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star.gif "It's meant to be funny!"

Day four of the Toronto International Film Fest: So, I was wrong. Nick Broomfield's Battle for Haditha isn't a documentary. Hell, it doesn't even have any voice-over. It's a drama -- a docu-drama -- that reenacts a real-life Iraq war incident in which a roadside IED led to the death of one American solider -- and in turn, many Iraqi civilians (including children) shot to death by the fallen soldier's weary, emotional, and confused squadmates. Shot in Jordan, the movie goes for a Flight 93-style realism, using mostly non-actors who represent more or less the characters they portray (Al-Qaeda aside, I'm guessing.) After the doc Heavy Metal in Baghdad, Battle for Haditha is the second Iraq-themed movie I've seen at the Toronto International Film Festival, and there are others on the bill I won't have time to see, like Brian DePalma's Redacted. Iraq is totally trendy ... and timely. And in my festival-addled mind, I just realized tomorrow is September 11.

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Although Nick Broomfield is best-known for films like Kurt and Courtney and Biggie and Tupac, his latest is a fact-based drama, similar to his 2006 film Ghosts.

I know it'll be out in theaters within some reasonable time frame, but I had to check out Margot at the Wedding, directed by the always-incisive Noah Baumbach (and co-starring his wife, Jennifer Jason Leigh). Nicole Kidman, in adorable-neurotic mode, plays the titular Margot, a brittle Manhattanite who returns to her childhood home, where her sister Pauline (Leigh) now lives. Pauline's set to marry the rumply Malcolm (Jack Black), who explains away his moustache by saying "It's meant to be funny!"; bursts into fits of rage while driving -- and playing croquet; and has a moment of clarity where he realizes "I haven't had that thing yet where I realize I'm not the most important person in the world." The film doesn't quite reach the heights of The Squid and the Whale (which, to me, felt heavily influenced by Wes Anderson), but it's filled with the kind of uncomfortable moments only someone with a lovingly fucked-up family can truly understand. And yes, the motif of awkward kid-singing is carried on from Whale. Blondie never sounded so sweet.

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Nicole Kidman in Margot at the Wedding. For another movie where she plays a wacky sister, see Practical Magic. Er...or don't.

Had to see Johnnie To's latest, because -- speaking of reasonable time frames -- I saw his Exiled at Toronto last year and it just recently trickled into San Francisco. I love, love, love Lau Ching-wan; nobody does puffy-eyed aggression like he does, and he's a spot-on choice to play the title role in Mad Detective. Compared to the near-epic Exiled, though, Mad Detective, co-directed with Wai Ka-fai, feels pretty slight. Lau plays Bun, a cop whose unconventional crime-solving methods lead to much success in the field -- but eventually get him kicked off the force. He's a total wack job, is what he is -- claiming to be able to see people's "inner personalities," for one thing. He also saws off his own ear before the opening credits. When a young detective (Andy On) approaches him about helping with a tough case, Bun gets right back in the game, with shoot-outs, chase scenes, and hallucinations galore. Fun, but not essential To.

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This has nothing to do with the movie. But it made me laugh anyway.

Went totally commercial with my fourth film of the day, Renny Harlin's Cleaner. (Yeah, I said Renny Harlin.) It's a cop thriller with a few amiable twists and turns, with Samuel L. Jackson (star of Harlin's The Long Kiss Goodnight and -- lest we forget -- Deep Blue Sea) as a retired officer who's segued into a second career mopping up crime scenes. It's fine, whatever, middle-of-the-road and harmless. Of course, I kept thinking of that scene in Pulp Fiction:

Jules: [Vincent and Jules are cleaning the inside of the car, which is covered in blood.] Oh, man, I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit.

Vincent: Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits that he's wrong that he is immediately forgiven for all wrongdoings? Have you ever heard that?

Jules: Get the fuck out my face with that shit! The motherfucker that said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass.

Vincent: I got a threshold, Jules. I got a threshold for the abuse that I will take. Now, right now, I'm a fuckin' race car, right, and you got me the red. And I'm just sayin', I'm just sayin' that it's fuckin' dangerous to have a race car in the fuckin' red. That's all. I could blow.

Jules: Oh! Oh! You ready to blow?

Vincent: Yeah, I'm ready to blow.

Jules: Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly T.N.T., I'm the Guns of the Navarone! IN FACT, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOIN' IN THE BACK? YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO SHOULD BE ON BRAIN DETAIL!

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Sam Jackson may have done some shit movies since -- and I don't mean Deep Blue Sea, even though he's the best thing in it besides the LL Cool J song that plays over the end credits -- but I still love him. Tomorrow, my last full day in Toronto, I got the new flicks from Todd Haynes and Harmony Korine. Stay tuned!

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