Iron Man opens this week, and thus the summer movie season has officially arrived. I love a good summer movie as much a the next guy, but this morning I found myself looking back at some of the little films that cropped up during the summer; some of them managed to get a "summer" feel on a much lower budget and without all the advertisement and hype. My absolute favorite summer art house movie has to be Tom Tykwer's Run Lola Run (1999). I saw it three times that summer, and each time I clutched my seat, my heart pounding. I was amazed at how brilliantly Tywker had mapped out his three possible storylines and how lovely the small, quiet interludes were. I loved Franka Potente, and I loved his throbbing score, which practically entered into your bloodstream and pumped up your adrenaline by hand. Every color, movement and cut was designed for maximum effect (I've always been puzzled how Tykwer's movies since have seemed so long and sluggish.)

Also that same summer, John Sayles delivered his baffling adventure/suspense film Limbo, which had several people trapped on an island awaiting rescue and stalked by bad guys. The ending had everybody in an uproar and caused the film to die a quick death. The summer before that one, Darren Aronofsky's debut feature Pi gave me a good dose of sci-fi thrills, as well as a few head-scratching puzzles (which were actually real). 2000 was a particularly bad summer, but John Waters' Cecil B. DeMented provided a mischievous little oasis in the middle of it all. In that film, renegade filmmakers kidnap a Hollywood starlet and force her to be in their indie production; each team member has a tattoo of a maverick filmmaker's name. (I've often wondered which filmmaker's name I would pick for a tattoo? Maybe David Cronenberg...)

Every once in a while, we will be inevitably thrown by news of a young actor's death. It happens, but thankfully, not all the time. This month, however, just one shocking week apart, we lost two -- Heath Ledger and Brad Renfro. I don't want to weigh this down with discussions of their death, any pain they might have been dealing with, or the loved ones who mourn them. Instead, let's focus on the footprints they made in the world of film. I could cite the serious achievements of both -- Ledger's Brokeback Mountain or Renfro's Apt Pupil -- but we've had enough pain over the last 10 days. Instead, I want to focus on something happier. Tonight, in memory of two talented actors taken too soon, I give you: 10 Things I Hate About You and Ghost World.


10 Things I Hate About You



Sure, I have a soft spot for The Taming of the Shrew, but with or without Shakespeare's classic play, 10 Things I Hate About You hit the right spots and helped catapult Heath Ledger into stardom. He starred as Patrick Verona, a supposed bad boy who turns out to be the coolest guy in school...well, after he comes to his senses and realizes that a bribe isn't the way to a girl's heart. Nevertheless, he breaks through Kat Stratford's (Julia Stiles) tough exterior and steals her heart while her fluffy sister Bianca (Larisa Oleynik) tries to figure out if she wants Joey (Andrew Keegan) or Cameron (Joseph Gordon-Levitt).

While all play their parts well, it was Heath who made the most impact. He made the hokey stuff seem less goofy, and he knew how to portray the cocky, irresistible sparks of the original Petruchio. He made paintball sexy, and over-the-top musical numbers seem devilish instead of desperate. Even Roger Ebert was charmed by Heath's performance.

Patrick Verona serenades Kat Stratford.

Poetry for Patrick.

Bloopers!

I wanted to stick with Heath bits, but I can't resist the flick's beginning, with Allison Janney's sexy writing.

Talk about getting mileage out of a metaphor. On our Sundance video podcast, James Rocchi cracked that last year's Sundance hit Saw reminded him of David Fincher's Seven ... as performed by the Max Fischer Players, the grade school company spearheaded by the protagonist of Rushmore. I tried to come up with my own analogy to bring to the table, in discussing Art School Confidential, Terry Zwigoffs latest collaboration with Ghost World creator Daniel Clowes, but James' framework just seemed so very apt. So, in 25 words or less: Art School Confidential is exactly what would happen if the Max Fischer Players tackled Heathers. In other words, it's a stilted satire of teenage passion and apathy, sex and death and crime. And like a classic Max Fischer production (if such a thing exists), it's so concerned with aping style that it never bothers to consider its characters as people.