Clint Eastwood's upcoming 'Letters From Iwo Jima' was pronounced Best Film by the National Board of Review this week, a film most of us won't get to see until February. Could Oscar gold go to a movie almost no one watching the telecast has viewed?

They also called 'The Devil Wears Prada' one of the best of the year, which I can't back - it was mildly enjoyable, but pretty generic in a lot of ways, and made charicters do things seemingly out of their established personalities for the sake of the story's contrivances.

I made it to Harvard Square on the afternoon of Dec. 8 to see the first showing of David Lynch's new movie, Inland Empire. Three hours of Lynch surrealism? It was an exhausting, frightening, amazing experience.

So the movie begins with a troubled young prostitute who, after, uh, "servicing" her, um, "customer," turns to the television to escape her nightmarish life. On TV, she watches an odd sitcom about some rabbits, which then transforms into the story of Nikki, a successful actress about to start work on an important new film. As things progress, Nikki eventually starts to become the character she's playing. From there, reality just keeps on unraveling, as Nikki finds herself in one unsettling predicament after another.

What we've got here is a film with several layers of story going on at once. The trick to it is to know which parts of which story belong to which layer and...

OK, I'm going to stop right there and not even bother trying to analyze the plot. As with most of Lynch's films, this one's going to take repeated viewings before eventually getting a sense of just what is happening. The first time you see a Lynch film, you don't focus on the story, you focus on the mood and the atmosphere. This one's got all sorts of dark, creepy imagery, as well as that dreamlike feel that Lynch is so good at creating. It's not as "out there" as Eraserhead, but it's more oddball than Mulholland Drive. I'd say Inland Empire's closest kin would be Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me, in that even though there's all sorts of bizarre unexplainable stuff happening on screen, Lynch never loses sight of where the characters are emotionally. You might not know what's going on, but you'll still be able to relate to the characters.

Speaking of which, Laura Dern was great here, playing several different characters (or, perhaps, one character with a very fractured psyche). I know a lot of folks are pushing for her to get an Oscar for this role, but I felt that her performance was genuine, and not just weepy Oscar bait. Justin Theroux, Jeremy Irons, Grace Zabriski, and perpetual weirdo Harry Dean Stanton were all excellent as well.

I left the theater feeling excited, in a way. Seeing this movie got my creative juices flowing, and, as weird as it all was, it reminded my why I love movies in general. So, yeah, I recommend that everyone make the effort to go see this one at the theater. Even if "art" movies aren't your thing and you'd rather see something like ninjas fighting dinosaurs, I say go see Inland Empire anyway, and see where the journey takes you.

When did moviegoers, including those in the so-called critical class, get so stupid? When, exactly, did they decide to turn off their brains, sitting back mindlessly and demanding that everything in an entertainment be explained to them? Was it when marketing became master of the cinematic domain, when test screenings and focus groups stole creativity out of the hands of the artist? Maybe it was during the days of the high concept, when narrative didn't need to be deep or intricate - it just needed to connect instantly with an audience. Home video definitely drove a stake in the heart of cinematic intellectualism. Once everyone had access to the world's wealth of film, the backseat scholarship began, and as a result, the creation of false perception. Granted, viewing a masterpiece like 2001 on a 13" screen is not the proper way of determining Kubrick's overall approach to science fiction, yet such an aesthetic has long since become the norm. As a result, all of these factors have fooled faux cinephiles into believing they understand the nature of movies. Unfortunately, if they did, they wouldn't now be bellyaching about Darren Aronofsky's latest masterwork.

At its core, The Fountain is a film about accepting death. It's about losing someone you love and learning to cope with the pain. It's mortality as viewed through the central characters of the story, each one presenting their own position on the afterlife in ancient (Izzy) and futuristic (Tommy) terms. For our heroine, the sudden arrival of the end (in the form of an inoperable brain tumor) represents a time of reflection and peace, a chance to put all her most precious thoughts down on paper to share with the man she adores. For our hero, cancer is a pariah, a conquest to overcome, a macho measure of his manhood that will either confirm or corrupt his entire world. As portrayed by Hugh Jackman (batting a big two for two this year after Christopher Nolan's amazing The Prestige) and the radiant Rachel Weisz, Tom and Izzy are drifting apart, at cross-purposes about her oncoming mortality. He's a research scientist obsessed with saving her. She's learning to cope. He can see nothing outside his potential role as savior. She just wants attention. All throughout the story, Tom has opportunities to really connect with his wife, to make her last few months (Weeks? Days? Hours?) of life seem serene. Instead, he is Hellbent on battling her disease – both as a way of saving her life, but also as a way of avoiding the issue in himself.

Jackman does a very interesting thing here, as does Aronofsky. This is not a big picture film, no matter the amazing vistas (Mayan temples, outer space) we end up visiting or the universal emotions being explored. No, both actor and director keep the movie very insular and internalized. Sets are restricted to rooms, corridors, halls, and dense jungle glens. Feelings are set within the barest of basics - happiness and sadness, success and failure. The intriguing Inquisition sequence that starts off Izzy's book (which gives the film its title) is perhaps the sole circumstance in which the world we are experiencing does not come as a direct reflection of our lover's lives. Indeed, Aronofsky seems to be using the set-up to suggest that traditional spirituality – read: religion – is so restrictive in its positions (post-modern or otherwise) that such an outward investigation of the afterlife is warranted. Indeed, the fictional Spanish Queen is seeking such salvation. Her conquistador tempts its fate. Similarly, our interstellar traveler puts his faith in an ancient Mayan myth. His goal seems as strange and evocative as the entire process of dying.

Yet, somehow, this is all baffling to filmgoers. They see Aronofsky jumping through time and the cosmos and consider this the narrative equivalent of Billy Pilgrim – unstuck in the epoch and equally confused. But it's all so obvious, if one merely gets involved in the story. There is no "real" Mayan storyline – it is the tale Izzy tells in her book. There is no space bubble traveling to Xibalba – it's just part of Tommy's interpretation of how Izzy's tale should end. Between the daily struggles to deal with the disease, this couple is losing its grip, grabbing onto fantasy as a way of finding fulfillment and peace. If you simply view all the fantasy material in light of the individual's producing it, Aronofsky's purpose becomes crystal clear. Then, the depth of his designs, and all the little details that go with it, turn something internal and emotion driven into an epic of universe-like proportions. You don't need a perfect score on some Mensa movie maven test to understand this. There are no hidden signals or symbols one must decipher to draw this conclusion. If one would simply switch on their inherent intellect, they'd see the truth behind the tricks – that is, that The Fountain is an astonishing, evocative experience.

9.5 out of 10

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I suspect some of you might also visit CNET and enjoy its many great articles & podcasts on technology. Regardless, you likely heard about CNET's Senior Editor James Kim, who was found today after spending 11 days in the Oregon wilderness. He had left his wife and two daughters, who were located alive and well earlier this week, to get help after spending a full week stranded with their car. James died a hero.

Those interested should check out the memoriam video available at www.cnet.com.

Last week, Jared Padalecki of Supernatural was invited to a Bodog celebrity poker tournament in Vancouver. Thanks to the lovely folks over at Bodog, we have some fun footage to view.

See Jared jump, smile, sneak a peek, cheer, bump and go "all in" at the BodogFight pre-fight poker tourny.

I do love the boys of Supernatural.