What’s playing in Madison theaters, Aug. 9-15, 2013

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All week

“Elysium” (Point, Eastgate, Star Cinema, Sundance) — Director Neill Blomkamp proved sci-fi action could be more than just mindless fun with “District 9,” a sly metaphor for racism and prejudice. He does it again with “Elysium,” in which the one-percenters live in a palatial space station high above a ruined Earth.

“Planes” (Point, Eastgate, Star Cinema, Cinema Cafe) — The weakest of the Pixar franchises gets co-opted by Disney Central in this high-flying “Cars” spinoff. I suppose “Boats” is inevitable at this point?

“Blackfish” (Sundance) — My full review is here. This sobering documentary looks at the way killer whales are treated at SeaWorld, in particular how one male whale has killed three trainers and still performs daily. Not for anyone who sees this film, though, I’ll wager.

“Dirty Wars” (Sundance) — My full review is here, and my interview with Jeremy Scahill is here. This powerful and engrossing documentary follows journalist Jeremy Scahill’s investigation into drone strikes and other covert ops performed in the War on Terror, in the shadows and unaccountable. Scahill will be at the 6:50 p.m. Friday and Saturday screenings.

Friday

“Beyond the Valley of the Dolls” (7 p.m., Marquee Theater at Union South) — There’s one movie in the UW-Cinematheque’s summer-long tribute to Roger Ebert that Ebert didn’t review, and that’s because he wrote it. “Beyond” is a gonzo Russ Meyer film that’s full of sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll and the occasional beheading, and has to be seen to be believed. Free!

“The Sandlot” (7 p.m., Duck Pond at Warner Park) — It’s the perfect marriage of movie and location, as Madison Parks and the Mallards screens this delightful ode to neighborhood baseball. Free, and concessions will be sold.

Monday

“Invasion of the Body Snatchers” (9 p.m., Memorial Union Terrace) — The Terrace’s “Out of this World” outdoor movie series wouldn’t be complete without this aliens-among-us classic, and kudos for showing the original ’50s black and white version in all its chilling, Red Scare-metaphorical glory. Free!

“Oblivion” (10 p.m. Star Cinema) — Tom Cruise is WALL-E, the last man on Earth. Or so he thinks in this stylish sci-fi action film. Admission is $3, with proceeds going to autism research.

Tuesday

“Epic” (10 a.m,, Point and Eastgate) — For a movie that features rapper Pitbull as a wisecracking frog, this animated tale of a teenage girl who gets shrunk and conscripted into a micro-battle for the forest ain’t half bad. Just $2.

“Oblivion” (10 p.m., Star Cinema) — See Monday listing.

Wednesday

“Epic” (10 a.m. Point and Eastgate) — See Tuesday listing.

“Dirty Dancing” (1:20 and 6:45 p.m.) — Sundance’s Summer Classics series winds up not putting Baby in a corner, in this beloved 1987 film starring Patrick Swayze at the peak of his open-shirted powers.

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“Oblivion” (10 p.m., Star Cinema) — See Monday listing.

Thursday

“Epic” (10 a.m. Point and Eastgate) — See Tuesday listing.

“The Fury” (7 p.m., 4070 Vilas Hall, 821 University Ave.) — UW Cinematheque director Jim Healy vividly remembers Roger Ebert raving about this Brian DePalma film about battling psychics on the old Sneak Previews and dying to see it. Now he can screen it, Free!

“Rifftrax: Starship Troopers” (7 p.m., Point Cinemas) — The guys at Rifftrax usually target bad old movies, but for the first time they’re doing a live takedown of a relatively new film, the immensely cheesy and bloody 1997 alien invasion movie starring Neil Patrick Harris and a lot of big bugs.

“Dirty Wars”: Jeremy Scahill looks into the shadows, and they look back

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“Dirty Wars” opens Friday at Sundance Cinemas in Madison. Not rated, 1;27, three and a half stars out of four.

Jeremy Scahill will introduce the film and host post-show discussions at the 6:50 p.m. screenings on Friday, Aug. 9 and Saturday, Aug. 10. Read my interview with Scahill here.

A Reuters report in this morning’s New York Times tells of three al Qaeda suspects killed by a U.S. drone strike in Yemen.  Who were they? What was the evidence against them? We’ll never know, most likely. All we’ll know is that they were killed, by us, for us.

For an investigative journalist like Jeremy Scahill, national security correspondent for The Nation, that’s not good enough. In his powerful film and accompanying book, “Dirty Wars,” Scahill digs into the human stories behind these anonymous covert actions being done in the War on Terror, trying to ferret out both the apparatus that allows it to happen and the real stories behind the victims.

Beginning with the killing of a police commander in Afghanistan who was seemingly sympathetic to the American cause, and then investigating drone strikes in Yemen and U.S.-sponsored warlords in Somalia, Scahill uncovers evidence of the Joint Special Operations Command, a secret unit that operates largely without congressional oversight and with vague, ever-expanding goals. “Dirty Wars” has the texture of a geopolitical thriller, as Scahill works his sources in intelligence, talks to the grieving and starts piecing together the intel he’s receiving.

And then the story gets ahead of him, as Osama bin Laden is killed — and JSOC is given the credit. (The head of the unit can be seen in that iconic “war room” photo, tellingly at the head of the table as Obama and Clinton crowd around.) The shadows Scahill has been chasing have come out into the light, and are applauded.

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It’s here that “Dirty Wars” becomes more than the sum of its facts, illuminating not just the secret wars but the emotional toll that trying to uncover them takes on Scahill. He realizes that the story he’s chasing has no end; it’s an endless cycle of attacks and reprisals, growing larger and more unaccountable by the day. Almost Kafka-esque is the tale of one moderate cleric, who called for peace after 9/11 but, after years of being harassed and detained by American forces, became radicalized. The U.S. made him the threat that they always feared he would be, so they killed him with a drone strike.

A few weeks later, they took out his teenage son with another drone. Were they afraid that his father’s death would someday radicalize the son? Because if so, we are moving into “Minority Report”-style pre-crime territory.

Some will question director Richard Rowley’s decision to put Scahill front and center as the film’s protagonist  rather than the facts themselves (Scahill would be among those questioning). But I think it works. Scahill’s presence and narration gives the film a narrative through-line as his investigation hops from one global hotspot to another, one clue to the next; at times it seems like Scahill is starring in the docudrama version of his own story.

And I think it works on emotional level to show the impact of that investigation on Scahill, the accumulating weight of tearful stories from victims’ families, the frustration that there’s always another layer to unpack. And the fear that, if he does finally get to the heart of the story, nobody will care.

“Blackfish”: Plumbing the depths of animal cruelty

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“Blackfish” opens Friday at Sundance Cinemas. PG-13, 1 hour 23 minutes, three stars out of four.

There are moments in “Blackfish” as suspenseful and scary as in any horror movie you’ll see this summer. Take, for example, the chilling sequence in which a killer whale takes a veteran SeaWorld trainer’s leg in his mouth and drags him down to the bottom of the tank. He looks like a beagle with a chew toy in his mouth — you can’t tell whether the whale is being malicious or being playful — and the whale surfaces just long enough for the trainer to catch his breath, his consciousness fading, before dragging him down below again.

That trainer survived, but others weren’t so lucky. Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s disturbing documentary isn’t meant to titillate us with such sequences, but to show audiences the moral and physical cost of keeping killer whales in captivity — a cost paid by both the whales and their trainers.

The movie centers around the 2010 death of another veteran trainer, Dawn Blancheau, who was dragged under water by a male whale, Tilikum, during a performance, mutilated and killed. (One trainer vividly remembers being told that day of her death, and then the chilling words, “He’s still got her.” SeaWorld insisted that the death was the result of an error on Blancheau’s part, first circulating the erroneous story that she fell in the water, then that Tilikum grabbed her by the ponytail.

Both stories are belied by the videotape (which “Blackfish” mercifully spares us), and the Department of Labor’s Occupational Safety and Health Administration successfully sued SeaWorld. Now, trainers have to be separated by a barrier when they work with orcas — SeaWorld is appealing.

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But “Blackfish” digs back into Tilikum’s history, and finds that Blancheau was the third trainer Tilikum had killed over a 20-year period. Contrasted with cheery promotional videos of SeaWorld from the ’80s and ’90s, we’re presented disturbing testimony of how Tilikum and other killer whales have been treated in captivity — held in concrete pools, separated from their parents, sometimes brutalized by the more dominant female whales.

Much of this testimony comes from OSHA, but much of it also comes from former trainers, once cheery spokespeople for SeaWorld, now feeling disillusioned and betrayed by the company. The upshot of the film is that killer whales don’t attack trainers because of some predatory nature, but because they’ve been psychically warped by such treatment.

SeaWorld declined to be interviewed for “Blackfish,” a decision they may be regretting, now that the company has tried to launch an aggressive counteroffensive against the film. It is undeniably true that millions of people have walked out of a SeaWorld park over the last forty years with a greater appreciation for marine life. It is also undeniably true that those people have also spent a lot of money at SeaWorld. The question that “Blackfish” provokes, viscerally, is whether the education and entertainment for visitors, and profits for the company, are worth it if the animals are mistreated and unhappy. After watching “Blackfish,” the answer is crystal clear.

“We’re the Millers”: The family that smuggles together snuggles together

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“We’re The Millers” opens Wednesday at Point, Eastgate and Star Cinema. R, 1:40, two and a half stars out of four.

There’s something almost refreshingly mean-spirited about the first few minutes of the raunchy comedy “We’re the Millers.” Our hero, David (Jason Sudeikis) is a Denver pot dealer who is utterly selfish and snarky. Our heroine, Rose (Jennifer Aniston) is a weary, flinty stripper who has seen too much. Add in Emma Roberts as a foul-mouthed homeless teen and you’ve got one of the least likable collections of characters since your average Todd Solondz movie.

“We’re the Millers,” which was co-written by DeForest native Sean Anders, successfully rides on that ill will for a while. David is hired by his drug supplier Brad (Ed Helms, playing a satisfyingly menacing version of his usual grinning goofball) to transport a “smidge-and-a-half” of marijuana from Mexico to Denver. The scruffy David is sure he’ll be caught at the border, but comes up with an idea. He’ll clean himself up and hire Rose, Casey and a sweet but dim teen named Kenny (Will Poulter) to play his family, a clean-cut All-American family taking the RV out for their summer vacation.

Of course, it doesn’t all go as planned — that “smidge-and-a-half” turns out to be two metric tons, crammed into every available space in the RV. And there are the usual comic setpieces involving a corrupt cop (Luis Guzman), a nasty tarantula, and most entertainingly, a fellow straight-arrow couple (Nick Offerman and Kathryn Hahn) who think they’ve found fellow suburban travelers in the Millers. Some of it works better than others — Hahn and Offerman are very funny as the naive Midwestern couple looking to spice up their marriage — but what carries it through is the sheer meanness of the Millers. Beneath their polo shirts and pastel skirts, they snipe viciously at each other along the way, and the best parts come when their fighting aligns with that of a real family, with Sudeikis as the harried dad and Roberts as the rebellious teen. “I will turn this RV around RIGHT NOW!” David thunders. “No drugs for anyone!”

But, inevitably, things have to turn sweet, and this fake family has to start appreciating each other as a real family. And that’s where “We’re the Millers” falters; trying to turn such acerbic raunch into a sweet redemptive comedy is like trying to negotiate an RV around a hairpin turn, and “We’re the Millers” just can’t make it. Sudeikis in particular does sour a lot better than he does sweet, and his attempts at the end of the film to keep his “family” together just do not ring true.

Up until then, though, “Millers” is good dirty fun. And if it in any way reminds you of your own family road trips, a little group therapy might be in order.

“Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters”: By gods, this is an unnecessary sequel

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“Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters” opens Wednesday at Point, Eastgate, Star Cinema and Cinema Cafe. PG, 1:49, two stars out of four.

And you think you’ve got daddy issues. What if you were the half-blood son of the Greek god Poseidon, ruler of the sea? Every time you needed to have a heart-to-heart with Pops, you had to go talk to the ocean. And, even more humiliatingly, the ocean never talks back.

That’s the predicament that Percy Jackson finds himself in in Rick Riordan’s wildly popular series of young adult novels, now being adapted for the movies. But the second film, “Sea of Monsters,” seems to be a downmarket version of 2010’s “The Lightning Thief.” While the highly similar Harry Potter books and films seemed to deepen and darken their themes with every film, Percy seems to be going shallower and flashier.

Percy and other demigod offspring are safely esconced at Camp Half-Blood, run by Dionysus (a hilarious Stanley Tucci) and centaur Chiron (Anthony Head, taking over for Pierce Brosnan from the first film.) Percy and his friends, including Alexandra Daddario as Annabeth and Brandon T. Jackson as a wisecracking satyr. But when the magical barrier protecting the camp starts to falter, Percy pulls his friends into a quest to find the Golden Fleece to heal it.

Which sounds exciting, but what “Sea of Monsters” really skimps on is 1. Sea and 2. Monsters.  Instead, there’s a lot of backstory and exposition as Percy and his team make their way to the sea, lots of stuff about destiny and sins of the fathers that you can’t believe couldn’t have been streamlined. One bright spot is a stop off to see Hermes (a witty Nathan Fillion) who runs sort of a UPS for Greek gods. (When he’s omnipotent, brown can do an awful lot for you.)

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The monsters include a cyclops, a mechanical bull and, most niftily of all, a werewolf-like creature with a scorpion’s stinging tail. But Percy spends more time fighting fellow half-bloods, especially the sneering Luke (Jake Abel), who wants to use the Fleece to raise a vengeful god to destroy Mount Olympus. There’s fun to be had here — the tone is much lighter and jokier than the Harry Potter films — but there’s never a sense of stakes, that any of this really amounts to anything more than a CGI distraction.

Which is too bad, because Lerman is a very likable and unassuming hero (he was great in “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”) and is clearly eager to go a little deeper into Percy’s emotions, to wrestle with the implications of having a deadbeat dad who rules the ocean. Tucci is also highly enjoyable, his Dionysus looking like a ’70s porn director, chafing under a curse by Zeus that turns all his beloved wine into water. “The Christians have a guy who can do this trick in reverse,” he bemoans. “Now THAT’S a God!” But they both seem stranded in a franchise that, for all its grand talk of destiny and omnipotency, seems to be trying to get away with doing it on the cheap.

By the way, I saw “Percy” in 2D, and hear that the 3D version is one of the worst 3D conversions since the first “Clash of the Titans.” It’s utterly unnecessary.

Instant Gratification: “Zodiac” and four other good movies to watch on Netflix right now

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Every Tuesday, I pick out five movies that have just become available for streaming on Netflix and recommend them for the Instant Gratification column. The start of a month usually means a whole lot of new movies on Netflix, and the start of August has brought a bevy of strong titles, both relatively recent and classic films.

Pick of the week: “Zodiac” — David Fincher’s exploration of the long, twisty, tortured investigation into the notorious San Francisco killer is a study in obsession, both in the killer’s mania and the dogged determination of detectives and reporters (including a tragic Robert Downey. Jr.) to find him.

Documentary of the week: “Tabloid” — UW grad Errol Morris’ account of a sleazy British tabloid sex scandal involves sadomasochism, kidnapping and cloned puppies. In other words, this isn’t serious “Fog of War” Morris, but a daffy and enjoyable look at some very offbeat characters.

Comedy of the week: “Running Scared” — This 1985 action-comedy gets both half of the hyphen just right, mixing some very funny camaraderie between cops Billy Crystal and the late Gregory Hines with some terrific action scenes, especially a car chase that ends up on the Chicago “L” lines.

Drama of the week: “Flesh and Bone” — This 1993 Texas noir features a fine performance by Dennis Quaid as a man haunted by his serial killer father (a chilling James Caan). The movie also features a breakout performance by a young Gwyneth Paltrow.

007 of the week: “The Living Daylights” — Netflix posted a bunch of Bond movies last week, so after certified classics like “Goldfinger” and “From Russia With Love,” may I suggest Timothy Dalton’s first outing as 007. The 1987 film features great action and a mostly believable plot, and Dalton’s simmering 007 points the way to to wear Daniel Craig would go decades later.

Blu-ray review: “Welcome to the Punch”

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Eran Creevy’s “Welcome to the Punch” is like a Hong Kong action movie set in London. The film’s look — all gleaming surfaces, blue lights and chrome — resembles Hong Kong or Shanghai much more than the grimy, gritty London we usually see in British crime films, like Guy Ritchie’s earlier movies. But a more central connection to Hong Kong cinema is the film’s preoccupation with the permeable, shifting line between good and evil, how cops and criminals can find more in common with each other than they expect.

Which is not to say “Welcome to the Punch” is particularly deep, but it is a lot of fun if you like that sort of thing. I kinda do. James MacAvoy, scuffing up his image between this and “Trance,” plays Max Lewinsky, a dogged London detective trying to catch master bank robber Jacob Sternwood (Mark Strong). In an atmospheric prologue, Lewinsky nearly nabs Sternwood and his masked, motorcycle-riding cohorts as they rob what looks like The First Bank of Tron. But Lewinsky gets shot in the leg, and Sternwood gets away.

Now it’s three years later, and Sternwood has been enjoying retirement in remote Iceland. But he learns that his grown son has been arrested and injured, and decides he needs to come back to London to help. Lewinsky, still bitter over his leg injury, sees this as the perfect opportunity to finally get Sternwood once and for all. But the pair find that Sternwood’s son may have been part of a larger conspiracy involving the police department, a fanatical mercenary (Johnny Harris), and a shipping container full of guns. Reluctantly, inevitably, they join forces.

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There’s not much new here, but the familiar material is elevated by an unusually strong cast. Strong gets cast as villains all the time (“Sherlock Holmes,” “Kick-Ass”), but he seems to relish the chance to give his baddies a little nuance, such as the fundamentalist torturer in “Syriana” or the exasperated drug smuggler in “The Guard.” (He finally plays the protagonist on the new AMC series “Low Winter Sun,” albeit a Detroit detective who kills a fellow cop.)

Here, he’s the classic criminal with a code, and his cool, controlled demeanor plays off well against MacAvoy’s vengeful hothead. Peter Mullan is funny and menacing as Jacob’s loyal sidekick, David Morrissey of “The Walking Dead” brings humanity to the typical police chief role, and Andrea Riseborough is very effective in a small role as Lewinsky’s partner. And Harris, who I had never heard of before, is terrifying as the sad-eyed mercenary, convinced his murders are part of a higher calling.

The movie is full of well-staged shootouts and car chases, in office buildings and nightclubs and shipyards. But the best action scene of all in “Welcome to the Punch” is a bravura four-way standoff inside an old lady’s tiny sitting room. in which the tension builds exquisitely, finally exploding in a shootout that takes about four seconds in real time, but is drawn out into epic slow motion. It’s a fantastic scene.

The shimmering London locations looks great on the Blu-ray edition, which also features a making-of featurette and several promotional interviews with the cast. “Welcome to the Punch” isn’t up to the level of the great Hong Kong action films, or the great British crime films, that it clearly admires. But it’s a successful and enjoyable melding of the two styles.

 

“The Canyons”: The movies are dead. Long live the movies!

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“The Canyons” is now playing on iTunes and other VOD services. 1:33, R, two and a half stars out of four.

Paul Schrader’s “The Canyons” opens with still shots of abandoned movie theaters in Los Angeles, their box offices boarded up, the seats oozing stuffing, the maroon carpets littered with trash. It’s as if Schrader expected that movie critics wouldn’t be engaged by the movie, and wanted to get us to tear up at the thought of the death of theatrical exhibition. Low blow, Paul.

But the irony of “The Canyons” is that, outside of its opening in New York and Los Angeles, most viewers aren’t seeing those decrepit images on the big screen, but on their televisions, laptops or iPads. “The Canyons” was released simultaneously on iTunes and other video streaming services on Opening Day, and Schrader, whose long career stretches back to “Taxi Driver” and “Light Sleeper,” seems to be mourning our new anytime, anywhere viewing culture even as he takes advantage of it.

The movie itself isn’t nearly as interesting as this frame, another Bret Easton Ellis tale of rich, soulless young people doing bad things to each other. Hollywood is the backdrop for their machinations, but we rarely see anybody actually working on a movie, or even interested in movies. It’s just something to do, a way to spend their money, in between expensive dinners and three-ways organized via text message.

Christian (porn star James Deen) is a prototypical Ellis antihero, a handsome, rich, completely amoral zombie who seems to live to inflict misery and humiliation on those around him. His main target is his girlfriend Tara (Lindsay Lohan), a struggling actress who Christian pulled out of studio-apartment desperation and into his spacious, antiseptic Malibu mansion. All she has to do is go along with his sexual proclivities, which involve other men and smartphone cameras.

But, not surprisingly in a movie like this, Christian is awfully possessive for a guy who professes to be such a libertine. When he learns that the actor hired for his movie, Ryan (Nolan Funk), used to date Tara, he psychologically taunts them both. But everyone is deliberately drawn by Ellis as a flat, shiny surface, so it’s impossible and probably inadvisable to care who ends up with whom. The chilly score by Brendan Canning, the deliberate artifice of Schrader’s staging (including having characters look directly into the camera as they say lines), the stiffly delivered dialogue — it all adds up to a deliberately vacuous portrait, a simulacrum of an erotic drama rather than the real thing.

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The wild card, in every sense of the expression, is Lohan. Her well-publicized troubles with the law and with herself have drawn plenty of rubberneckers to “The Canyons,” as did an immensely entertaining New York Times Magazine article full of salacious details about the troubled production of the film.

But whether Lohan was late to the set or not, I don’t think anyone can argue she’s not the best thing in the film. Looking simultaneously weary beyond her 27 years, while still retaining vestiges of her “Parent Trap” girlishness, she gives an astonishing live-wire performance, trembling and yet tough, fully engaged in every moment she’s on screen.

The other performers in the film (especially Deen, who is all smirks and poses) simply can’t keep up with her. It’s the difference between a movie star and others who pretend to be. “The Canyons” isn’t a good movie by any stretch of the imagination, but Lohan makes it highly watchable, and is the film’s best inadvertent argument that the movies aren’t dead after all.

What’s playing in Madison theaters, Aug. 2-8, 2013

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There’s only two movies opening in Madison this Friday, but I reviewed them both! (“The Smurfs 2,” which opened Wednesday, doesn’t count. “The Smurfs 2” never counts.)

All week

“2 Guns” (Point, Eastgate, Star Cinema) — My full review is here. Denzel Washington and Mark Wahlberg make an appealing duo in this throwback action film that features witty action and even wittier banter.

“At Any Price” (Sundance) — My full review is here. Ramin Bahrani (“Goodbye Solo”) aims for Shakespeare among this soybeans in this tale of a modern farmer (Dennis Quaid) juggling job pressures and a wayward son (Zac Efron).

Friday

“Ran” (7 p.m., Union South Marquee Theater) — Akira Kurosawa’s epic 1985 take on “King Lear” simply has to be seen on the big screen, with truly spectacular battle scenes and sense of tragic grandeur. Free!

Monday

“Little Shop of Horrors” (9 p.m., UW Memorial Union Terrace) — For some reason, lately I’ve been hearing people sing snippets of songs from this killer sci-fi musical about a boy, a girl, and a plant. This is the sing-along version, so I think lyrics will be printed on the screen for you extroverts. Free!

“G.I. Joe: Retaliation” (10 p.m., Star Cinema) — Channing Tatum doesn’t last too long in this cheesy sequel, but Dwayne Johnson and Bruce Willis pop in to pick up some slack. $3!

Tuesday

“Chimpanzee” (10 a.m., Point and Eastgate Cinemas) — The Kids Dream summer series continues with this cute DisneyNature documentary about a little chimp separated from his mom who gets adopted by an older ape. Tim Allen narrates, and yes, does that ape noise thing. $2!

“G.I. Joe” Retaliation” (10 p.m., Star Cinema) — See Tuesday listing.

Wednesday

“We’re the Millers” (Point, Eastgate, Star CInema) — A pothead (Jason Sudeikis) and a stripper (Jennifer Aniston) impersonate suburban parents in order to transport illegal substances in this raunchy comedy.

“Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters” (Point, Eastgate, Star Cinema) — The teen son of Poseidon heads out to retrieve the Golden Fleece in this adaptation from the wildly popular young-adult series. You had me at “and Nathan Fillion as Hermes.”

“Chimpanzee” (10 a.m., Point and Eastgate) — See Tuesday listing.

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“Ghostbusters” (1:45 p.m. and 7:10 p.m., Sundance Cinemas) — Get slimed all over again with the sci-fi comedy classic, and be grateful that Bill Murray has steadfastly refused to back a “Ghostbusters 3.”

“G.I. Joe” Retaliation” (10 p.m., Star Cinema) — See Tuesday listing.

Thursday

“Chimpanzee” (10 a.m., Point and Eastgate) — See Tuesday listing.

“Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia” (7 p.m., 4070 Vilas Hall) — The UW-Cinematheque’s Roger Ebert salute continues with this bloody, seedy Sam Peckinpah classic, starring the great Warren Oates as one of several lowlifes trying to achieve the titular mission of a Mexican warlord. Free!

“2 Guns”: Denzel and Wahlberg unleash a fusillade of banter

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“2 Guns” opens Friday at Point, Eastgate and Star Cinema. 1:49, R, three stars out of four.

I used to love the crime novels of the late Ross Thomas (no relation). Thomas set his novels everywhere from Washington, D.C. to the Philippines to a small Texas town, but no matter where they lived, all his characters were at least a little bit bad. His books were less thrillers than confirmers, confirming the reader’s darkest views of human behavior, and there was great fun to be had in figuring out which of his characters were evil and which were merely corrupt.

I thought about Thomas while watching “2 Guns,” which is almost cheerfully cynical about humanity, pitting some not-very-nice guys against several waves of much-worse guys. Add in a shifting, entertaining plot by Blake Masters (based on the graphic novel) and efficient, even witty action filmmaking by Baltasar Kormakur (“Contraband”), and you’ve got a nice, nasty late-summer surprise that’s a throwback to the action films of the ’80s and ’90s.

Bobby Trench (Denzel Washington) and Marcus “Stig” Stigman (Mark Wahlberg) are lowlifes working for a Mexican drug kingpin, Papi Greco (Edward James Olmos). When Papi stiffs them on a drug deal, they aim for revenge; they think Papi keeps a stash of $3 million in a border-town bank, and they aim to rob it.

Another movie would kick off with the heist, but instead “2 Guns” begins with the duo casing the bank from a diner across the street. Which is fitting, because the main draw of the film isn’t the guns, but the rapid-fire banter between Washington and Wahlberg. Both are playing about as loose as they possibly can, Bobby the laconic cool customer and Stig the excitable motormouth. Wahlberg is especially funny, like a hyperactive child positively bouncing in his seat at the thought of violence and mayhem.

But the first of many twists is that Bobby isn’t who he seems — he’s actually an undercover DEA agent trying to bring down Papi. And the second of many twists is that Stig isn’t who seems to be either — he’s working for U.S. Naval Intelligence. And the third twist? Neither guy knows this about the other.

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You’d think in a movie like this the bank robbery would go bad, but the problem is it goes too well — they score $43 million instead of $3 million, far more than Papi would ever have. And the real owners of the money (led by Bill Paxton in a stellar whack job performance) want it back.

There are several other nefarious characters after the money as well, and Kormakur keeps the pace nimble but never chaotic as the duo try to figure out who they can trust. (“Nobody” is a good place to start.) His action scenes are largely CGI free and often quite clever; my favorite is a game of chicken where Bobby and Stig end up smashing their trucks together, driver’s side window to driver’s side window — and then start punching each other through the open windows.

In a summer movie season where everyone is trying to top one another with ever more outlandish visual effects and IMAX 3D setpieces, there’s a relaxed confidence to “2 Guns” that’s refreshing. The film’s eagerness to offend is almost endearing, and the tone is kept so light that it’s hard to be offended. (Although, just to be clear — no chickens were harmed in the making of this motion picture, despite what we see.)