The Notorious Bettie Page (Mary Harron, 2006). I'm glad Mary Harron gets to make a movie every once in a while. I just wish the finished products were better. Like her prior efforts, I Shot Andy Warhol and American Psycho, Bettie Page is an interesting concept in need of some structure, some consistent tone, something to keep it from feeling like aimless meandering. Gretchen Mol does do nice work in the title role, embracing the verve of Page's self-assurance and pragmatic liberation in her modeling work. The very make-up of the film prevents her from digging much deeper as the bulk of Page's personal life challenges are reduced to cameo appearances. It's as if Harron is including the material of true biography out of dispirited obligation. The problem with that approach is that it's just as demeaning and reductive to Page as those who saw her as little more than the queen of the pin-ups. Page actually had some success on the New York stage and minor fame in the early days of television, but you'd never know it from Harron's film which depicts her interest in acting as little more than a futile hobby. In a way, Harron's film duplicates the very indignity it was intended to exculpate. It discards Bettie Page as a person just as callously as those who cast her aside when the pin-up era ended.

An Unreasonable Man (Henriette Mantel/Steve Skrovan, 2007). Another movie that winds up at cross-purposes to itself. This documentary about the life and career of Ralph Nader seems to serve primarily as a corrective to those on the left who vilified him after the disaster of the 2000 election. Mantel and Skrovan allow plenty of screen time for those who still want to excoriate Nader for diverting left-leaning voters away from Vice-President Al Gore (in particular, Eric Alterman is so vehement in his beliefs that he winds up bereft of reason and logic and comes across as a mild psychopath), but their intention is clearly to repair the longtime consumer advocate's legacy. After making a compelling case for his impact on American life by tracking the triumphs of his early career, the filmmakers spend so much time on the elections of 2000 and 2004 that they wind perpetuating the same crime that they're combating, considering Nader largely through that lens. Still, enough of the film is a solid documentary tracking one man's lifelong crusade to prove that true, committed citizenship can change the nation to make it vital viewing.

Waitress (Adrienne Shelly, 2007). Like the other 2007 comedies about unexpected pregnancy, the backstory of this film threatens to become its most compelling aspect. While Knocked Up and Juno came loaded with the happy tales of an offbeat leading man and a screenwriter who followed an unconventional trajectory, respectively. Waitress, on the other hand, is shaded in tragedy. It's hard to watch the feature directorial debut by Adrienne Shelly without thinking of her untimely end. The temptation is to be charitable, but the film is ultimately a middling effort. It has some endearing low-rent weirdness that recalls the work of director Hal Hartley, with whom Shelly notably worked at the beginning of her acting career. That weirdness has been tempered, though, leaving it sitcom safe and approachable. There are few real surprises and little that's challenging. Keri Russell does fine work as the expert pie-maker and titular server who discovers that she's carrying the child of her hated husband. She plays the role with a barbed impatience that is refreshing in its unvarnished petulance. There's also a nice supporting turn by Andy Griffith, which serves as a reminder that he was considered a fairly crafty actor before his time as Sheriff Andy Taylor effectively cast his persona in bronze.

A World Apart (Chris Menges, 1988). During the 1980's, Barbara Hershey was consistently phenomenal in a series of admirable films. You wouldn't know that from studying the history of American awards shows. She got more love on other shores, most notably those where the Cannes Film Festival annually played out. There, she won Best Actress honors in consecutive years, a unprecedented feat that still hasn't been matched. This was the film that earned her the second honor and she's certainly strong as anti-Apartheid activist Diana Roth, playing scenes filled with temptation to lapse into showiness with a more moving quiet power. The film has other significant problems, though, not the least of which is that it fits perfectly into the overly full category of films that examine the injustice wrought upon blacks by focusing on the troubles endured by their white supporters. It's also painfully staid. I'll concede that the film probably carried more impact when it was released since the horrible practice of Apartheid still ruled over South Africa.

The Host (Bong Joon-ho, 2007). After films that deal in part with the exploitation of women, corporate indifference to consumer well-being, abusive relationships and smothering Apartheid, sometimes you just need to watch a big, carnivorous monster chase screaming Asians through the street. It's like a cleansing dose of Pellegrino after a series of especially complex pinots. This Korean film is zippy genre fun. Bong has a keen eye and an expert sense of timing. He's especially strong with shrewd use of offscreen space, one of the most vital and yet often neglected aspects of turning a film like this into a rousing success. Even when the script tends towards dippy details (such as the opening when develops the obligatory "scientific" explanation for the creature), there are beautiful visuals to bask in, thanks to the sharp, gorgeous cinematography by Kim Hyung-ku.