When Rob Zombie first appeared on the filmmaking scene with House of 1000 Corpses in 2003, I wrote that he was ” just a fan who’s made a film and is not actually a filmmaker.” While there’s a core of truth in that statement, it’s not one I would make today. Four Zombie movies later and a lot of revisiting and rethinking Corpses, I’m convinced that Zombie is a fan who is also a filmmaker.

We’re getting a little bit of a break this week—though it probably feels more that way to me, since I’ve already seen and reviewed three of the six movies opening this week for Wednesday’s Xpress: Bright Star, Not Quite Hollywood and Timecrimes. That, however, is part of the reason that I’m perfectly fine with getting a break.

A few days ago I happened to see a picture of LBJ on TV. For whatever reason, the image called to mind a dialogue exchange between John (Bruce Greenwood) and Bobby (Stephen Culp) Kennedy in Roger Donaldson’s Thirteen Days (2001). There’s no great significance in this—except that it’s the only thing I clearly remember from the film. I also remembered that I’d reviewed it, been favorably impressed and gave it four stars. Did it deserve those four stars?

It was the weekend from hell. I think we’ve had more movies lined up for a single issue before, and I know I’ve reviewed as many as nine, so it’s not just quantity. By judicious whining, I managed to fob off both Whiteout and Broken Hill on Justin Souther, leaving me a mere eight titles to wrestle to the ground, but what titles they were!

This is the week that the newly remastered, remonkeyed, repackaged and generally rejiggered Beatles box set hits record stores (and my CD player), but of course that’s not really a movie topic—or is it? In one sense, it very obviously isn’t, but in another sense modern film owes a debt to the Beatles just as much as music does.

We’ve already had District 9, so this week we get plain old Arabic numeral 9. And nearer Christmas we’re slated to get Nine. Number nine, number nine, number nine. Mere coincidence—or something more? And if you play them backwards do you get “Paul is dead” clues? That remains to be seen (and will likely be incomprehensible except to readers of a certain age).

I’d been planning on doing something on this topic for some time—at least as far back as last night when the stars aligned and brought an eventuality into being. In this case, the celestial line-up consisted of Orbit DVD offering a sale, me pointing this fact out to co-critic Justin Souther and Justin attending said sale.

Well, the dust has settled, and in a surprise move The Final Destination beat out Halloween II at the box office. Even allowing for the inflated figures on the former—spawned by the $3-3.50 surcharge (depending on theater) for 3-D—it was a clear victory for the grim reaper and company.

I was talking to an old friend about movie ratings. He mentioned that on military bases movies were rated in pre-MPAA rating days—something with which I was unfamiliar. I don’t recall the rating system, but I was interested to note that one of the “forbidden” movies was David Swift’s Under the Yum Yum Tree. What slightly surprised me was my immediate response, “And so it ought to have been,” and the realization that I find this movie offensive.

It’s Michael Myers vs. Death Incarnate at the movies this week for what should be the grudge match of the year. My money is on Michael Myers. He’s got the brand name and Rob Zombie at the helm. On the other hand, Death is all dolled-up in a nice 3-D suit. Should be an interesting bout. And if that doesn’t excite you, Ang Lee is on hand with a little 40-year-old nostalgia.

For reasons I can’t begin to fathom certain members of my family have been stricken with list-o-mania (as distinct from Lisztomania). It started innocently enough with lists of favorite books and favorite movies and other such things. This I understood because lists are fun, but then they moved from the safety of “favorites” into the realm of “bests,” which strikes me as definitely risky and possibly unnecessary.

This week it’s all about Quentin Tarantino, as his long-gestating, long-anticipated Inglourious Basterds arrives on the scene. Speculation runs high. Is this going to be a “great” film, another of the filmmaker’s trashy pop-culture masterpieces? Or is this going to be the mess that a lot of early reports have claimed? And even if it is a mess, will it be a glorious mess or just a plain old mess?

This is an evening (Thursday) I wouldn’t normally be at home, but owing to the onslaught of this ague, here I am in the company of Humphrey Bogart in In a Lonely Place (1950) on TCM. It’s not a favorite of mine, but it’s not an inapt choice simply because if anyone ever had star power Bogie qualifies, and star power is what I’m thinking about today. The question in my mind is whether or not it actually still exists—at least in anything like the form it once did.

Last week it was stuff blowing up, Meryl Streep trussing ducks, psychos in paradise and a quirky comedy romance. This week it’s all about aliens in a prison camp, time travel, an anime goldfish princess, car salesmen and high-school band high jinks. No, unfortunately, this isn’t all contained in the same movie—then they’d have something.

We’ve all had moments in our lives (at least I hope we have) when something or possibly someone we once regarded very highly suddenly doesn’t “do it” for us. And if we’re lucky we might have the reverse experience where something that didn’t work suddenly does.

As far as I’m concerned the big news this week is the opening of (500) Days of Summer, but for the blockbuster-minded it’s probably G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, one of summer’s last big openers. I suppose if something bearing a passing resemblance to a movie could be made using Transformers, it was inevitable that more toys would find their way into theaters.

Well, movie year 2009 is more than half over. Normally, at this time of year I find myself thinking that there’s no way in hell I’ll end up with a Ten Best list by year’s end. The January “white sale” of lousy movies—that often extends till March or April—that the studios dump on viewers who are burnt out after the frenzy of awards season rarely provide much in the way of “best of” material.

It’s a heavy week of movie offerings. Not only do we have three—well, two-and-a-half—mainstream releases and two not-so-mainstream ones, but there are four non-theatrical screenings in the offing. If nothing else, that gives viewers a pretty wide array of choices.

The whole concept of a list of kid-appropriate movies reminds me of when Frank Zappa testified at the Parents Music Resource Center hearings (remember those?). Much of his point came down to the idea that what was inappropriate for one child was not necessarily inappropriate for another, and that as a parent he objected to someone else telling him what his children were mature enough to process.

Thursday will mark the last day that both The Brothers Bloom and Easy Virtue—two of the very best films to come out this year—are in town at the Carolina Asheville. If you haven’t seen these movies, you should.

No, I don’t mean that moment that warms the heart of Woody Allen fans when Liev Schreiber’s foot makes contact with Mia Farrow’s face in the 2006 remake of The Omen. I’m after something else here. I’m curious about those things that give the act of watching a movie that certain something that elevates the experience beyond the movie itself.