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Let me start with some wild hyperbole: I'm not sure I've ever seen a better Western than The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

And I've seen (and loved) a lot of Westerns. From John Wayne as Chisolm to Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday, from the grit of Sam Peckenpah's Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid and Eastwood's Unforgiven to the comic puckishness of Support Your Local Sheriff and Maverick.

But this one -- this one has it all. A strange, heartbreaking script that is at once timeless and topical. A knockout cast of some of my favorite actors (Brad Pitt, Sam Rockwell, a career-making turn for Casey Affleck). Great cameos (Nick Cave, James Carville). Beautiful, stunning cinematography. Brilliant, spooky direction.

And, beyond all that, it does not spare one of the greatest strengths of any authentic film of the genre: the ubiquitous weirdness of the Old West.

[SOME SPOILERS AFTER THE JUMP]

Went to see "Saw 4" with my little (18-year-old) sister this weekend.

And man did it make me feel old.

Saw Sweeney Todd this weekend, and enjoyed it much more than I'd expected to.

Here's my thing about musicals: I don't hate them. I just hate it when they take themselves too seriously. When there's dancing and singing involved it's very easy to go of the tracks of drama and into melodrama. And, though I know this makes me awful and closed-minded, I have a really hard time not laughing when people burst into a song in a way that I'm supposed to find moving rather than mirthful.

So -- Guys and Dolls I like. Les Miserable, not so much.

I dug Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Dreamgirls was too much.

Like Chicago, I feel like Sweeney Todd split the difference pretty well. I never saw the stage show, so I have to assume that most of the credit for the movie's tone should go to director Tim Burton, who has spent decades mixing the dramatic and the hilarious to great effect (Beetlejuice, Batman, Ed Wood).

The plot seems tailor-made for Burton -- a strange alchemy of Dickensian morality play and morbid, surreal storytelling worthy of Edgar Allan Poe. Which is a perfect playground for Johnny Depp (who seems almost preternaturally attracted to the weird), Helena Bonham Carter (who seems to have made a career of playing kind of creepy goth chicks) and Sacha Baron Cohen (who, with Borat under the belt, took to the sliminess and ambiguous nationality of his character like a fish to water).

I won't ruin any major plot points for you, but I will say this: if you're hoping for a happy ending, you might be better off seeing PS. I Love You.

Just saw Iron Man.

I had high hopes, so I was a little scared of being let down.

But, long story short: one of the best super-hero movies I've ever seen, and the best one Marvel has produced in a long while.

Last week columnist Jeri Rowe stopped me in the newsroom with a huge grin on his face.

"I've got something for you," he said. "It's for the blog, but I'm going to need it back."

"Okay," I said.

"No, really," he said. "I'm going to need it back."

"Fair enough," I said, a little curious now.

That's when he hit me with this -- an advanced copy of Chuck Palahniuk's new novel, Snuff.

Jeri needn't have worried: I finished it in one night.

So it's official: Wanted was pretty awful.

I think it's rare that the experience of watching a movie is so boring and frustrating that even some brief Angelina Jolie nudity (or that of a body double, I'm not sure) doesn't make up for it.

This was that experience.

But here's the thing: I didn't think the effects were bad or ridiculous. I just thought the script was crap, the original work was tweaked just enough for it not to be as interesting and it was carried out poorly. Also, the soundtrack was just awful.

Ech.

Went to the midnight showing of The Dark Knight last night and am dead on my feet today as a result.

The above picture? That's me today, minus the smile.

But it was worth it.

My brief assessment after the jump (minor spoilers ahead, nothing major).