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Most of the reviews of "Fuel" rave about Josh Tickell's entertaining presentation of solutions to our global addiction to gasoline and oil. Last night's screening couldn't have been much more serendipitous for the filmmaker. I mean, let's face it, 86 days into BP's rogue well catastrophe, and it was not surprising that Florida State's Student Life auditorium was packed with a diverse group of community residents and students. It was, after all, a free screening.

"Fuel" didn't offer any solutions that haven't already been publicly addressed in a variety of ways by a number of visionaries. Relying on the filmmaker's personal journey from an undergrad thesis project that escalated into a crusade, the film came across as a tad pedestrian. Tickell's experience with alternative fuel sources as a substitute for fossil fuels is indeed impressive. It would be difficult to criticize his passion, or his mission to encourage and nurture change.

BUT, "Fuel" was entirely too precious for me to rave like the other critics. Littered with proactive celebrities like Julia Roberts, Willie Nelson, Larry David, Cheryl Crow and many others, it occurred to me that "Fuel" was way too proud of itself, and way too involved with the idea of celebrity. For someone who is presumably an activist, I wondered about all of the air miles and fuel Tickell spent courting an Irish scientist in Cork, German engineers in Europe, etc. I thought about the air miles he used to attend celebrity-filled festivals.

After I viewed "Fuel" last evening I reread Henry Adams's "The Virgin and the Dynamo" and was reminded about the consuming nature of a contemporary society that has detached itself from the Aquinas-like faith of the middle ages. Adams penned his famous chapter after attending the Paris Exhibition at the turn of the last century. The internal combustion engine (a small dynamo) was featured at the exhibit. "Fuel" devotes a segment that addresses the 1900 event, and the historical context Tickell offers is particularly compelling. The Louisiana information was also edifying.

While "Fuel" had many successful segments, it could be edited and condensed into a more meaningful film that does not require nearly two hours of air conditioned airtime. It reminded me too much of one of those Sally Struther's "Feed the Children" TV campaigns.

If Warner Brothers and Disney Animation Studios had ever had a baby they might have named it Illumination. The machine behind "Despicable Me" takes the wacky bits from old school cartoons and applies 21st century animation technology to produce a hip and well articulated masterpiece. From start to finish, the film was absolutely captivating and sophisticated with an engaging narrative and imaginative characters.

All of the characters were well-voiced, but I found Jason Segal's "Victor/Vector" villain particularly inspired. The little yella fellas were uniformly charming and I expect they'll probably have their own aisle in toy stores very soon. Carell's crazy villainy was perfectly tuned, as was Julie Andrews whose new voice adds a delightful note as the Despicable mother. The juvenile vocals brought both sass and sweetness to the story, and Kristen Whiig was smarmy in a distinctly southern way.

The humor is rich, with winks at classic cinema like "Taxi Driver", "Apollo XIII", and others. The Bank of Evil is staffed by former Lehman brothers execs, and recurring motifs and jokes create a comic continuity that is sustained through the credits. "Dispicable Me" was my second choice, but now I'm very happy was running a little late this evening.

Like the very nature of the underground street art movement "Exit Through the Gift Shop" feels fresh and almost subversive. It doesn't matter to me if it is a conceptualized mockumentary, or a genuine attempt to record the outsider reality experienced by brilliant street artists like Shepard Fairey, Invader, and the infamous Banksy. "Exit Through The Gift Shop" is mischievous and immediate in the same way that street art is.

Mainly we watch the evolution of Thierry Guetta from an obsessive-compulsive videographer to a successful popular artist whose street credibility is quickly parlayed into the show of shows. Guetta takes contemporary icons and gives them Warholian emphasis, so we see a reinvention of Madonna, who once reinvented herself in a Marilyn-like way, and who we later learn commissions Mister Brainwash (Guetta) to design her cover art. Guetta's point-of-view is absolutely authentic in the way it synthesizes and skewers popular culture. Or is it Banksy's point-of-view? It doesn't matter. It's brilliant, provocative, charming, and completely entertaining.