I can appreciate a well-crafted work of Hollywood formula that gives the audience what it already knows it wants, at least up to a point, but I often come away feeling restless and unsatisfied. I’d almost always rather see the rare kind of pop spectacle that takes enormous risks, that reaches for grand themes, big ideas and operatic emotions, even if it makes indefensible mistakes along the way. That’s what “Cloud Atlas” is, the kind of oversize, overpriced movie that critic Stuart Klawans described in his book “Film Follies.” (The classic example would be D.W. Griffith’s silent epic “Intolerance,” which serves as a major model and influence here.) “Cloud Atlas” is arguably way too much of a good thing, with too many characters, too many stories, too many directors – Tom Tykwer of “Run Lola Run” and “Perfume,” and Andy and Lana Wachowski (né Larry) of the “Matrix” trilogy — and too much running time. But its too-muchness is also the source of its power; I was absolutely never bored, and felt surprised when the movie ended. It’s an amazing, baffling, thrilling and (for many, it would appear) irritating experience, and for my money the most beautiful and distinctive big-screen vision of the year.

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Happily, Ben's dictum about failure doesn't apply to movies. Failure itself isn't noble or heroic or innately interesting; it's just a human condition like any other. But because mainstream American cinema tends to cower in fear of any behavior it considers unsympathetic and any circumstance it considers unhappy, a film about failure possesses a small degree of nobility right out of the gate. You just don't see that kind of film every day. What such a movie does after that is, of course, up to the filmmakers and the actors. Luckily, "Solitary Man" is funny and absorbing, and it features a lead performance by Michael Douglas that's both hugely entertaining in itself, and fascinating for the way it illuminates the actor's long, colorful career. Ben Kalmen isn't just a worthy addition to Douglas' personal rogues gallery; he seems to contain bits and pieces of all of them.

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As millions of ordinary homeowners and investors all over the developed world have discovered over the last two years or so, the moral hazard associated with capitalism's boom-and-bust cycles can produce extraordinarily painful results. Stone's long-delayed "Wall Street" sequel will surely make news as the first major motion picture to dramatize the worldwide financial crisis, and to point the finger squarely at those who induced it, exacerbated it and lied about it.

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"We're all going to die someday," the realist tells us. "We get older and older, and eventually, we die."

"Jesus, could you stop being so negative?" we respond.

"It's really best to plan for it before it happens, so we have some control over how it goes," the realist counters.

"Plan for it? God, you're morbid," we say, turning back to our iPhones to tweet about the fantastic pastrami we had for lunch.

We actively divert our attention from death each day, and then one day, there it is, rudely interrupting our normal routines, and we're bewildered by how cruel and callous the world suddenly seems. Doctors who refuse to weep with us! Coroners who go about their business as if they do this several times a day! Funeral home directors who gesture gracefully to a plentiful box of tissue, pursing their lips in a grotesque affectation of heartfelt sympathy! It's all so macabre, yet so mundane! It's just so wrong.

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"Tenderness," based on the 1997 novel by Robert Cormier, did make it into limited release mostly based on the star power of Russell Crowe in a top-billed supporting role. Since most of us are seeing it on the small screen for the first time, here it is. Lori (Sophie Traub) is a confused 16-year-old who re-enacts previous sexual abuse by making out with an older man she picks up at a gas station or pulling up her shirt while her boss at the supermarket strokes himself. She's obsessed with Eric Komenko (Jon Foster), a kid who murdered his parents with his archery set but got off with a light sentence by claiming that anti-depressants drove him into a parricidal rage.

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Sure enough, among the 100,000 protesters gathered on the Mall Saturday afternoon, there really was a giant puppet of a devil and at least one "Free Mumia!" sign, and Jane Fonda and Tim Robbins put in appearances. But what was actually striking about the protest was how different it was from other, earlier Iraq war protests.

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In this remake of the 1997 Japanese film of the same name, Wells substitutes shtick for character -- an aging dance instructor secretly nips from a flask, a brash blond student wears tight outfits and instructs all the men to stop looking at her ass, and so on. So the flashes of charm we get from performers like Bobby Cannavale, Omar Miller, Richard Jenkins and the R&B singer Mya (whose lips and eyebrows curl like a cartoon kitty-cat's) have to suffice. There's just enough of Stanley Tucci as a lawyer who, with false teeth, flowing toupee and sequined clothes, moonlights as lord of the Latin dance, and too much of Lisa Ann Walter as that blond dance student -- she's abrasive where she intends to be brassy.

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Princess Diana may be in heaven, but they're still arguing about her on earth. Last week her butler revealed a letter from Di predicting her own death. This week it's Bryan Adams' ex-girlfriend saying he had an affair with the princess after the divorce from Prince Charles. The butler, of course, figures into this story too. Even though Adams denies the story, Paul Burrell has claimed that, after her divorce, Diana had nine suitors -- including "a Hollywood actor, a novelist, a sportsman, a politician, a lawyer, an entrepreneur, a billionaire, a surgeon -- and a musician." What, no Indian chief? (IMDB)

And, speaking of Chuck, the whole of his empire are on the edge of their seats awaiting word of what he supposedly didn't do. For weeks now, British newspapers have been saying they have a story that could "bring the monarchy down" but they're bunkered with their lawyers on what they can and can't print, due to tough libel laws. The Daily Mail was going to go to press this week with a story based on testimony from an ex-servant and was stopped by a lawsuit by another former servant. Last night, Charles sent his private secretary out to deliver a denial: "I just want to make it entirely clear, even though I can't refer to the specifics of the allegation, that it's totally untrue and without a shred of substance" -- anticipating a Sunday story in the Mail. Could this be more "Upstairs, Downstairs"? (MSNBC)

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If it weren't for their different shades of hair color and lip gloss, could anyone really tell the difference between Cameron Diaz and Kate Hudson, with their big goofy-gal grins? Jennifer Aniston may be a tasteful clotheshorse and a charmer on "Friends," but, along with her sunglass wearing, waif-boy husband, her real personality seems as textured as a bottle of Wite-Out. And Gwyneth? Get rid of the whimpering and the sham English trill and all you've got is a cheerleader who smokes.

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Speaking of cute, we love, love, love Robert De Niro but we hope he loses the long, long goatee (or whatever it is) on that chinny chin chin. He told Katie Couric on "The Today Show" this morning that he grew it for a role, and she wondered if he kept his keys in there. He sort of chuckled. Bobby is doing interviews to promote the second year of his TriBeCa Film Festival, which is drawing crowds -- and needed bucks -- to downtown New York. Bravissimo, Roberto. Now go grab a Gillette, babe. (Yahoo)

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We had heard that Stanley Tucci and Edie Falco might be an item, but hesitated to go with it. But now that they've been spotted dancing together at Tuesday's PEN America Center Gala in New York, we think it might be true. Other couples cutting the rug were Salman Rushdie and his wife, Padma Lakshmi, and Candace Bushnell and Charles Askegard. Also there to lend support to writers were Madeleine Albright and Jonathan Franzen, but we don't know if they danced together. (N.Y. Daily News)

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Dale Petroskey, though, the president of the Baseball Hall of Fame and a longtime Republican Party hack, I'm mad at for being a pigheaded boob.

Petroskey this week canceled a planned celebration of the 15th anniversary of the baseball flick "Bull Durham" because two of its stars, Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon, have spoken out against the war in Iraq and President Bush. "In a free country such as ours, every American has the right to his or her own opinions, and to express them," Petroskey wrote in a letter to would-be participants quoted by the Associated Press. "Public figures, such as you, have platforms much larger than the average American's, which provides you an extraordinary opportunity to have your views heard -- and an equally large obligation to act and speak responsibly."

Translation: Hey, I believe in free speech as much as the next guy, as long as the person speaking agrees with me.

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Tampa Bay says "No Thanks" to Susan Sarandon. The peace-loving Susan was to be the keynote speaker at a United Way women's leadership event but after they got "three dozen" complaints about Sarandon's views on the war, the plug was pulled. The theme of the event? "The role of women as leaders and contributors." (St. Petersburg Times)

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In other Michael Moore news, System of a Down's antiwar video for "Boom!" will premiere tonight on MTV2. The video features footage of war protests in London in February and is directed by the wide-bottomed one himself. (NME)

Poor Susan Sarandon ... it seems her mom is a Republican! The feisty 79-year-old told guests at her St. Patrick's Day party that she voted for George W. Bush and that "I simply agree with most everything he has said." We think that Thanksgiving at Mom's house with Susan and Tim and the gang would make a good documentary. (Washington Post)

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Meanwhile, a Division III women's basketball player in suburban New York has made national news just by expressing an opinion. Part of the news was how Toni Smith expresses herself -- by turning away from the American flag during the national anthem -- and how people have responded, by filling gyms for her games and chanting "Leave our country!" at her, for example. But the shocking thing, the real story here, is that an athlete, somewhere in America, has spoken out about politics, however innocuously.

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Did she leave anything out?

And while on the topic of semantics, the distressed diva tells Diane Sawyer in a "Primetime" interview airing Wednesday night, she really doesn't care for the a-word.

"I don't like to think of myself addicted," she says. "I like to think ... I had a bad habit ... which can be broken."

But food, she insists, is not an issue for her. All that eating-disorder talk that surrounded her in the wake of 9/11 is just a gross overreaction to her naturally slender physique.

"Let's get that straight. I am not sick. OK?" Houston says. "I've always been a thin girl. I am not going to be fat, ever. Let's get that straight. Whitney is not going to be fat, ever."

But Whitney might be married to a man with even bigger problems than she herself has.

Bobby Brown claims his marijuana use, while frequent, is strictly for medicinal purposes: It helps him with his bipolar disorder.

"Me and drugs. We're not friends. We're not friends at all," Brown tells Sawyer. "I'm a very high-strung person ... [Marijuana] seems to help me ... from going up and down."

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