I don’t ask for much from summer popcorn movies. Give me some car chases and explosions, some romance, and a nasty villain who meets a nastier end, and I’m happy. I had high hopes for “The Fast and the Furious” to be a classic of this genre, but it turned out to be a major disappointment, not a good bad movie-as-video-game but a bad bad movie-as-brain-numbing-waste-of-celluloid. In fact, it is a bad bad bad bad bad movie.

Paul Walker plays Brian O’Connor, a loner with a fancy racecar who wants to get into the hidden world of street racers, and if you don’t guess that his motivation is more than getting close to Mia, the pretty sister (Jordana Brewster) of the fastest driver of them all, then you have never seen “Point Break,” one of several much better movies that this movie steals from shamelessly. The street racers swoop down to take over a quarter mile stretch for races that last less than 10 seconds, then disperse before the police catch up with them.

Brian challenges Mia’s brother Dom (Vin Diesel) and loses both the race and his car to the jeers of the onlookers. But he rescues Dom from the police and sticks with him through an encounter with a rival gang. Soon, he is a member of Dom’s rag-tag “team,” a family of outcasts that includes brilliant but attention-defecit-mechanic Jesse (Chad Lindberg), brooding Vince (Matt Schulze), and tough girl Letty (Michelle Rodriguez of “Girlfight”). Races and chases in various locales and several product placement moments later, it turns out that neither Dom nor Brian has been telling the truth and that both will have to put what they care about most on the line before it is all over.

This is one of those movies that cannot even fake authenticity. It is not about what is cool or about what the people in the audience think is cool. It is about what people in Hollywood think that the people in the audience think is cool, and it is about as cool as the fake rock music they used to play in “Brady Bunch” episodes when Greg and Marcia went to school dances. There is a lot of posing and attitude, and people say fake-tough and fake-profound things like, “It’s not how you stand by your car — it’s how you race your car” and “It doesn’t matter whether you lose by an inch or a mile – winning’s winning.” Nearly every line is a cliché, spoken without any sense of irony, tribute, or transcendence. There is some flashy photography (but doesn’t it defeat the purpose to make a 10-second race last for a minute onscreen?) and a lot of blasting faux-hip rap music, very fine cars with a button on the dashboard like that thing in “Star Wars” that makes them go into hyperspeed, and sprays of automatic weapon bullets that manage to miss all the main characters. The last fifteen minutes is genuinely, deeply, infuriatingly stupid. Diesel and Rodriguez are talented and watchable, but this movie insists on interfering with our ability to enjoy them. There is more tension and excitement in the one 10-minute “chickie run” segment of “Rebel Without a Cause” than in any race in this movie.

Parents should know that the movie is as close to an R as it can be and remain a PG-13. It is very violent, with shoot-outs that leave one character dead and another seriously wounded. A character takes one risk that appears suicidal. Characters drink and smoke. Corona beer seems to be an especially obvious product placement, and giving someone a beer is a gesture of honor and acceptance. There is a same-sex kiss and some skanky behavior. A woman offers one of the racers a threesome if he wins, then insults him when he does not. A man tells his girlfriend, “You’re my trophy.” Women appear in scanty clothing, including a thong. There is a non-graphic but explicit sexual situation. Characters use very strong language, including the n-word and other racial slurs. We see some gross photographs of an injured man. Characters are in extreme peril, both in racing and in shoot-outs. Robbing and shooting are sympathetically portrayed, and Brian’s ultimate decision is a serious betrayal. And someone needs to get the message to Hollywood that making a couple of the female characters strong and smart does not mean that the rest of them can be sexist bimbos.

Families who see this movie should talk about the way that even outcasts create families, as where Dom presides over a barbecue dinner that is like a cover illustration from Tatooed Biker done by Norman Rockwell. They even say grace. They should also talk about the people who do not tell each other the truth, and those who make the decision to violate the law to make things easier for themselves.

Families who enjoy this movie will also enjoy “Gone in 60 Seconds” and “Point Break.”

Jim Carrey has been brilliant in flamboyant, comic roles and in quieter, subtler roles, but both kinds of acting have come from the same source inside him – the kind of anger that fuels a lot of actors and comedians. He uses his hostility brilliantly. One of his best performances was in “The Truman Show,” because he could draw on his own conflicts about the pressures of being constantly watched and the struggle to maintain a respectable surface despite an increasing passion to be iconoclastic. “The Mask” and “Batman and Robin” gave him roles that expressed both sides of the duality that is the subtext of many of his performances.

For the first time, in “The Majestic,” Carrey opens himself up to draw from a more vulnerable part of himself as he plays a character who literally does not know who he is. It is not a great performance, but it is a moving one, within the context of the story and as an invitation to share some of Carrey’s own journey to a broader maturity as a performer.

“The Majestic” shares this double layer of meaning because it is as much about the movies and the role they play in our lives as it is about the characters and the story. The movie begins in a Hollywood story meeting in the early 1950’s. Before we see anything we hear a group of studio executives (hilarious vocal cameos by some of Hollywood’s top directors) eviscerating a script by casually throwing in every possible movie cliché. As they call out “How about a dog!” and “The kid should be crippled!” the screenwriter sits there, stunned into silence. Finally, he musters up a diplomatic, “That’s….amazing.”

The screenwriter is Pete (Carrey). His first screen credit, a formulaic B-movie, is about to arrive in theaters, and the starlet who appears in it is his girlfriend. A script he really cares about has been accepted for production. He feels like he is on the brink of achieving not only his dreams but the ultimate dream of every American. What could be more of a dream come true than the movies?

But dreams have a way of turning into nightmares. Pete’s life is turned upside down when his name comes up in the investigations into communism in Hollywood being conducted by the House of Representatives. Pete is so upset that he gets drunk, and then he goes for a long drive.

Pete has an accident and his car goes off a bridge. He is washed up on shore and is awakened, in a sly reference to the studio executives’ suggestions, when a dog licks his face. Pete has been so shocked by the accident that he has lost his memory. The dog’s owner takes him back to town, a community so idyllically Norman Rockwell that all the men call him “son” and the waitress at the diner asks “What can I do you for?” and serves him up some delicious scrambled eggs.

Everyone in the town says that Pete looks familiar. And Harry Trimble (Martin Landau) says he knows who Pete is – Trimble’s son, Luke, a war hero reported missing in action. Harry seems so sure that Pete begins to be persuaded. The town has lost many young men in the war, and his return is cause for celebration. Harry is so excited he even pledges to reopen the family business – a movie theater called “The Majestic.”

As Pete tries to figure out who he really is, he meets people from Luke’s past, including his girl, Adele (Laurie Holden). Meanwhile, FBI agents, convinced that Pete’s disappearance is evidence of his participation in a Communist conspiracy, resolves to track him down.

The freedom from a past allows Luke/Pete to think about what his dream really is. Still the screenwriter, he “fills in the blanks” to understand the lives of the people in the town. But in rebuilding The Majestic and connecting to Harry and Adele he achieves a greater authenticity of feeling and spirit than he had before.

Harry says that in a movie the good guy should always win, and this is a movie that Harry would love. It has enough of the guaranteed elements for warming the heart to please both the fictional studio executives in the movie and the real-life ones who got this made. And it presents these homespun values with enough sophistication (and a little bit of “just-kidding” ironic distance) to make it work. It plays with history and gets a little corny, but the movie itself has such a good time with it that the audience does, too.

Parents should know that the movie has brief strong and vulgar language, mild sexual references, a scary accident, and a sad on-screen death. Many characters are mourning sons killed in the war. One returning soldier is disabled and bitter. Pete responds to bad news by getting drunk and he drives while he is drunk.

Families who see this movie should talk about the Red Scare of the 1950’s that blacklisted many Hollywood writers and performers. As recently as 1999, when distinguished director Elia Kazan received a special Oscar, there were protests because he cooperated with the House Committee, as Pete is urged to do here. Some of those called to testify refused to cooperate. What were the different pressures that Pete had to reconcile? What were the priorities that made him decide what he did? How did his ideas about himself change? Why?

Families who enjoy this movie will enjoy some of the movies that inspired it, including “Hail the Conquering Hero” and “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” They should also see some of the other movies about the Red Scare, like “Tail Gunner Joe” and “The Front.”

Dex (Donal Logue) is a fat, irresponsible, pot-smoking slacker with no ambition. But he is so charming that women cannot resist him. And neither can the viewers. Dex may have no ambition, but he has no pretention, either. He has a wonderful command of repartee covering everything from Lao Tzu to Josie and the Pussycats. And he has a system for seducing women that is just about foolproof. As he explains to his friend Dave, there are three rules. First, “Eliminate your desire.” Women cannot let down their defenses as long as they sense that a man is trying to get them into bed. Second, “Do something excellent in their presence, thus demonstrating your sexual worthiness.” Third, “Retreat.” This is the titular “Tao of Steve,” named for Dex’s three polar stars, $6 million man Steve Austin, Hawaii 5-0 cop Steve McGarrett and the greatest Steve of them all, Steve McQueen. Channeling these Steves allows Dex to feel cool. And smoking marijuana every morning and having a lot of one-night stands allows him to feel less purposeless, or maybe it just allows him not to feel very much at all.

Then, he attends his 10th college reunion, where he has sex with a classmate’s wife, makes a date with a student tending the bar, and is re-introduced to Syd (co-screenwriter Greer Goodman). She has come to town to design sets for a production of “Don Giovanni” (Don Juan). Dex begins to think that he might be a little like Don Giovanni, who “slept with thousands of women because he was afraid he wouldn’t be loved by one.” He tells Dave to ignore all of his advice: “I’ve been trying to turn you into me and I’m not sure even I want to be me anymore.”

This is a classic “the love of a good woman inspires a man to grow up at last,” but it is a sweet, funny romantic comedy with appealing characters and witty dialogue. Logue, a character actor in movies like “Steal this Movie,” “The Runaway Bride,” and “The Patriot,” is wonderful. According to the credits, the screenplay is “Based on a story by Duncan North” which is “Based on an idea by Duncan North,” which is “Based on Duncan North.” North appears on the movie’s website answering questions about love and relationships.

Parents should know that the movie has drug use and a lot of drinking and smoking. Dex has an affair with a married woman, the wife of a good friend. Although the resolution of the movie has Dex becoming more mature, the movie makes immaturity (to the point of hedonism) seem very appealing. Dex cites St. Augustine’s famous, “Lord make me chaste — but not yet.” Although it is clear that Dex’s behavior does not make him very happy or proud of himself and it hurts the woman he seduces, teen-agers may come away with the same conclusion.

Families who see this movie should talk about why Dex went from the brilliant and promising student his classmates remember to a philosophy that “doing stuff is overrated.” Talk about his quote: “the sage, because he never does anything, never ruins anything,” and ask whether that is possible. Why is it that Dex’s behavior does not make him happy, and why doesn’t he change? What is he afraid of? Why does he feel differently about Syd? Why does she put up with him? Is Dex right when he says that romance is our national religion?

Families who enjoy this movie will also enjoy “Next Stop Wonderland.”

People will react very strongly to this movie – they will either love it or hate it. And after some consideration, I’ve decided that I love it.

Those who will enjoy it are people who have a lot of tolerance for all-night college dorm discussions of the meaning of life, because this entire movie is a series of monologues and dialogues that are variations on that theme.

It does not really tell a story. It is just a journey by an unnamed main character (played by Wiley Wiggins) who wanders through an Alice-in-Wonderland-style journey that may or may not be a dream, meeting all kinds of very odd people, many of whom tell him their views on consciousness and the purpose of existence.

It recalls director/screenwriter Linklater’s first film, “Slackers,” which showed us a series of loosely linked people expressing views on everything from Madonna’s pap smear to the assassination of William McKinley, and his later film, “Before Sunrise,” in which a young couple meets on a train and spend the rest of the movie walking around Vienna and talking about just about everything.

The couple from “Before Sunrise,” Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke, reprise their roles in one scene in “Waking Life,” lying in bed talking about consciousness after death. Other actors and characters from Linklater’s earlier films flicker through this one as well, their out-of-context familiarity adding to the dreaminess and disorientation.

But there is a crucial difference between this film and Linklater’s earlier works. This film is animated. Actually, it is rotoscoped, which means that it was originally shot on film (digital film, in this case). Then, instead of creating animation cells or computer pictures from scratch, animators paint over the photographed images of real people. Each scene or character had a different group of animators, though the overall look of the film is very consistent.

The combination of the floating animation on top of real images also adds to the dreamlike quality of the film, especially in contrast to the very authentic-sounding audio. Animated films, highly artificial, usually have pristine, tightly controlled audio (with rare exceptions, like the pioneering John and Faith Hubley). But in “Waking Life” we get an extraordinary sense of documentary, even hyper-reality from the ambient noise of the audio and the fact that many of the monologues are delivered by people who are not actors. For example, some of Linklater’s college professors deliver portions of their lectures. This “real”-sounding audio contrasts with the vibrating fluidity and impressionism of the visual images.

At times, shapes shift to reflect the discussion. As a man says he would rather be “a gear in a big deterministic physical machine than just some random swerving,” his face briefly turns into a purplish gear. Another character briefly turns into clouds or smoke. But mostly, the images stay close to their original form and shape, except that the settings around them float, shift, and quiver, perhaps like “some random swerving.” Animation serves the dialogue in this movie as it served the music in “Fantasia.” Instead of Mickey Mouse carrying buckets or hippo ballerinas, we get a literally red-faced prisoner threatening the direst revenge on just about everyone and a man in a captain’s hat driving a boat on the road.

The monologues themselves are like jazz improvisations, wildly playful, bringing in an astonishing assortment of references and concepts. I think the secret to enjoying this movie is not to engage too much with the individual arguments and points of view but just to allow your ears and spirit to enjoy the fact that there are people who feel passionately about these ideas and who are willing to talk about them to other people with an openness that is both humbling and touching.

I enjoy that kind of talk, whether I agree with it or not, and it is a pleasure to see language used to create such intimacy and connection. The Delpy-Hawke scene shows how purely sexy conversation can be, something pretty much lost to movies since they started permitting nudity. The people who want “real human moments,” or “holy moments” of genuine connection come across as authentically vulnerable. Of course, other characters come across as people who talk all the time and barely notice if anyone is listening, but most of the people Wiggins meets want to help him in their own way.

Parents should know that the movie has some very strong language and scenes of cartoon violence, including a shoot-out and a self-immolation. Some teens may be upset by the discussions of death.

Families who see the movie will want to talk about their own views on the meaning of life and which, if any, of the characters are closest to their own thoughts about dreams and reality. Is it possible to create “lucid dreams?” Is there a reason that a film-maker might be particularly attracted to this idea – could film be a kind of generalized lucid dream? When you are dreaming, are you aware that you are dreaming? How do you know? What does it mean to say that there’s only one moment or to talk about the eternal yes? Does this movie make you want to know more about any of the authors or ideas it raises?

Families who see this movie will also enjoy “Everyone Rides the Carousel” with animation by Faith and John Hubley, based on the works of Erik Erikson.

Plot: John MacReedy (Spencer Tracy) gets off a train in a tiny, dusty little Western town. It is rare for any stranger to come to the town; it is the first time the train has stopped there in four years. The town residents move from suspicion of the one-armed man in a suit to open hostility when MacReedy enters the local hotel and asks about a local farmer named Komoko. Pete Wirth (John Ericson), the hotel manager, refuses to give him a room, saying they are all booked. When MacReedy takes a key anyway, a bully named Hector David (Lee Marvin) insists that it is his room. MacReedy takes another room. Hector and most of the rest of the town report to Reno (Robert Ryan). When he tells them to push MacReedy without giving him information, they are happy to oblige. But the town doctor (Walter Brennan) tells MacReedy how to get to Komoko’s farm, and Liz Wirth (Anne Francis), Pete’s sister, rents him a jeep to get there. MacReedy finds the farm deserted. Coley Trimble (Ernest Borgnine), another of Reno’s henchmen, chases MacReedy back to town, driving him off the road and slamming into the jeep with his truck.

MacReedy realizes that Reno will never let him get out of town alive. He tries to make a phone call or send a telegram, but Reno has cut him off. When Trimble harasses him at the diner, he refuses to fight, then finally, when Trimble persists, MacReedy devastates him with a karate chop to the neck. That buys him some time, but MacReedy is cornered and he knows it. He persuades Liz Wirth to drive him out of Black Rock. But it is a trap. Reno is waiting for them. As Liz runs to Reno, he shoots her; he no longer trusts her to keep his secret. MacReedy puts the jeep’s leaking gas into a bottle, stuffs it with his tie, lights it, and throws it at Reno, who is killed.

MacReedy had come to Black Rock to give Komoko the medal his son had been awarded by the U.S. Army for heroism. Komoko’s son had saved MacReedy’s life before he was killed in battle. But Komoko was also dead. Reno and his henchmen killed him at the start of World War II because he was Japanese.

The doctor asks MacReedy if he will leave the medal in Black Rock. MacReedy gives it to him, then puts out the flag so that the train will stop in Black Rock again, for the second time in four years.

Discussion: “A man is as big as what makes him mad.” MacReedy says this to Reno in one of this movie’s key scenes, and it is a concept children (and parents) should think about. It is also interesting that Reno killed Komoko after he was found ineligible to enlist in the Army. His hostility toward Komoko was based on displaced of his anger and frustration as much as it was based on racism.

MacReedy did not choose this battle, but he never turns away from it. A man who had no direction, and no goal beyond the presentation of the medal to Komoko, becomes a man who will not allow Reno and his thugs to win. He is fighting them not just for Komoko, but for himself, and in doing so finds a pride and dignity that enables him to go on.

This is a good movie to use for a discussion of prejudice, not just about race, but also about disabilities.

Questions for Kids:

· What does it mean to say, “a man is only as big as what makes him mad?” Think about a time you got mad. How big was the thing that made you mad? How do you measure?

· The people in the town had different reasons for obeying Reno. What were they?

· How did MacReedy change? What did he learn about himself?

Connections: Compare this to “High Noon,” another movie about a lone force for justice. Anne Francis, known to baby boomers as television’s “Honey West,” plays opposite Robby the Robot in the science fiction classic “Forbidden Planet.” In both movies, she is the only woman in the cast.

Interestingly, MacReedy’s handicap, so central to the story, was a last-minute addition in order to make the character challenging enough to attract Tracy to the role.