STARRY KNIGHTS

Space pilots race to save humanity in thoughtful epic 'Interstellar'

Nobody has ever accused Christopher Nolan of thinking too small. A  master of the brainy action thriller, his films are as crammed with ideas and concepts as vehicle chases, and explosions (are although there are plenty of those too).

From the brilliant intricacies of Memento and The Prestige, to The Dark Knight (the best and broodiest of his Batman trilogy, with its good/evil Doppelganger undercurrent), to the wildly imaginative Inception, Nolan knows how to deliver a feast of a film that keeps viewers chewing over it for days.

His latest, the sci-fi epic, Interstellar, is no exception—although in this case, it takes a lot longer for Nolan's cool, cerebral storytelling to start pulling the viewer in. Those who categorically dislike sci-fi will find much to protest here—like lengthy sequences of gigantic pieces of hardware lumbering through space while orchestral music swells on the soundtrack.

Surf's up on one wet planet in Interstellar.

 Placing star Matthew McConaughey front and center most of the time feels like a naked stab at down-home folksiness to soften the film's cold edges.

And yet, just when the ponderousness of it all threatens to take over the film, the prickly human element that Nolan and his co-screenwriter brother, Jonathan Nolan, have been seeding into the plot from the earliest scenes finally starts to pay off.

The relationship between engineer/astronaut-turned-farmer, Coop (McConaughey), and his daughter (played first by little Mackenzie Foy, and then as an adult by Jessica Chastain, as the narrative time-loops around) is especially nicely wrought.

This work of cautionary speculative fiction begins in a too-near future where climate change is eroding Earth's resources.  Coop  gets a chance to join a team of explorers who will be flying through a newly discovered wormhole on a quest to find another habitable planet for the human race. (Read more in this week's Good Times)

CLUB MEDS

McConaughey's crusading AIDS patient powers 'Dallas Buyers Club'

It's hard to imagine a less likely crusader in the fight against AIDS than Ron Woodroof. A coke-snorting, womanizing, blue-collar Texan, Woodroof was diagnosed as HIV-positive in the mid-1980s and given 30 days to live—a death sentence he defied for years to become a pioneer in making "unapproved" drugs from out of the country available to his local AIDS community.

It's a true story that unspools as a tale of bizarre alliances and unexpected heroism in the pugnacious, yet affecting drama, Dallas Buyers Club.

Directed by French-Canadian filmmaker Jean-Marc Vallée (switching gears from his best-know film, stateside, The Young Victoria), from a script by Craig Borten and Melissa Wallack, Dallas Buyers Club rests almost entirely on the frighteningly thin shoulders of star, Matthew McConaughey.

Over the last couple of years, the busy McConaughey has been rehabbing his screen image and reclaiming his career from the wasteland of action fare and light romantic comedies in challenging roles in Killer Joe and Magic Mike, among others. (He was exceptional in Mud, earlier this year.)

Playing Woodroof is the cherry on top, and McConaughey gives it everything he's got. His Woodroof is a brash, profane antihero who acquires shading, sympathy, even grace, in the process of rising to meet life's challenges. The actor lost thirty pounds for the role and it's a shock to see him so emaciated.

But he earns his (almost certain) Oscar nomination not for his diet, but for he unquenchable drive and cool chutzpah he brings to the role, and the film. And he's not the only one: co-star Jared Leto (with McConaughey, right) gives an equally bold and vivid performance as a sassy transvestite who becomes Woodroof's business partner.

Jennifer Garner is on hand as a compassionate doctor and low-key potential romantic interest. But the real love affair here is between McConaughey and the acting profession. His bravura performance keeps the movie alive. (Read more)