Posting individual threads for the films from Telluride and Venice that tickled my fancy or not was fine then, but with Toronto well underway with way more films to be screened, I’ve decided that a daily round-up post or two should suffice. Nothing will be different, except that, like I did with Cannes this year, reviews will be linked on one page only. Today we have two films that I am dying to see get rather iffy to mixed reviews, those being “Brothers Bloom” and “Nick and Norah,” and Guy Richie’s latest getting yawns from some and superlatives from others.

“The Brothers Bloom” by Rian Johnson

James Rocchi, “The truth is, as much as The Brothers Bloom may feel like it’s cribbing from other films at first, this is Rian Johnson’s movie, and even if my more dreary and discerning critical faculties told me the final act goes on, perhaps, a beat too long, my inner moviegoer was sitting.”

Noel (of the A.V Club), “I found it involving and occasionally dazzling, if too self-serious at times, and too airless throughout. For his follow-up to Brick, Johnson wanders through lands well-colonized by both major filmmaking Andersons (that would be Wes and P.T.), though in a way The Brothers Bloom is also the next generation of Brick as well, in that the characters in Johnson’s debut film were interpreting high school through noir archetypes, and the characters in The Brothers Bloom are aware that they’re living storybook lives, and are trying to find ways to change.” His colleague, Scott liked it a little less, giving it a B- instead of Noel’s B+, saying, “Films can have a strange alchemy sometimes: All the elements can be in place and the whole thing can still blow up in your face.”

Peter Sciretta,”One of the reasons why I love The Brothers Bloom, is because the film cons the audience. The Brothers Bloom is a story about two brothers, disguised as a love story, disguised as a con movie. The perfect con is where everyone involved gets what they wanted. By the time the credits roll, you will be happy to have experienced a film you weren’t expecting.”

Jeff Wells, “It’s ravishingly composed and oh-so-poised with a sense of old-world European train-car romance (as it once existed 50 or 60 years ago) , and yet so stuck on its cleverness that I wanted to reach out and strangle the movie — pull it right off the screen, leap on top of it like a 350 pound wrestler and choke the life out of the damn thing . I counted at least 22 walkouts before I finally gave up. When I left two volunteers said to me, “Is it over? There are so many people leaving!” We all had a good laugh.” Seriously? Seriously.

“Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” by Peter Sollett

Karina Longworth, “Nick and Norah may very well be a teen romantic comedy that plays not directly to teens, but to their two bracketing demographics. Its relative tameness may appeal most to tween girls who aspire to sleepless city nights (and who imagine “hooking up” as a long kiss followed by an ellipsis), while a certain segment of the post-collegiate class should relate (even if begrudgingly) to the completely sincere belief that the only things that truly matter in a mate are physical attraction and iPod compatibility.”

The Playlist’s Rodrigo Perez, “And then we saw it and we were left disappointed, deflated and we moved on, but a belated review is in order since the film premiere’s at TIFF this week. We’re not sure what we expected, it is a teen comedy afterall, but we suppose we were hoping for a teen comedy with a little substance and ‘Infinite Playlist’s featherweight touch really couldn’t supply any.”

John Anderson, “People with high blood pressure need romantic comedies, too, and their cardiologists will be very grateful for “Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist,” a scrubbed-up, somnambulistic night tour of teen-hipster Manhattan. This is the kind of sparsely plotted comedy that depends on compelling characters, but it stars two young actors defined by ironic detachment. Michael Cera and Kat Dennings may bring some young behinds to theater seats, but the number will be finite, as the pic’s energy level is too low for breakout B.O.”

“RocknRolla” by Guy Richie

Finn Halligan, “It’s a step back to basics and an assured return to form for Ritchie, leaving the viewer marvelling afresh about how a director this confident could have produced Swept Away and Revolver. Can he only make the one film?”

Joe Leydon, “After shipwrecking with ‘Swept Away’ and misfiring with ‘Revolver,’ Brit filmmaker Guy Ritchie bounces back to top form with ‘RocknRolla,’ a cleverly constructed, sensationally stylish and often darkly hilarious seriocomic caper.”

James Christopher, “The problem with Guy Ritchie’s entertaining caper RocknRolla is that it brings back too many jaundiced memories and fails to lay any fresh tracks. We are back in the only milieu in which he ever excelled as a writer, namely the cod-Hogarthian underbelly of London’s modern crime world.”

Alex Billington, “Guy Ritchie has done it again. RocknRolla is yet another Ritchie classic like we’ve seen twice before with Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels in 1998 and Snatch in 2000. It may not exactly top either of those two in content, but it’s certainly the best British gangster film in the last eight years, which says a lot.”

Kevin Kelly, “Well, the good news is that this marks a return to the London underbelly that was laid down by Lock and Snatch: RocknRolla could rightfully be called the third film in a Ritchie trilogy. The bad news is that it’s a whole lot of flash and not much substance. Not that people go to Ritchie’s films expecting a dissertation on the human condition, but his movies do at least require you to follow along closely due to their labyrinthine plots. RocknRolla is no different, and although Butler seems to be the face of the film, he’s simply part of a large ensemble cast, and not the strongest player.”

Peter Bradshaw’s one-star review is actually some funny shit, until it gets old, “That title of Mr Guy Ritchie’s new featcha. Means geeza. Or mobsta. Top bruisa. In his London manna. Sad to say, the film’s a shocka. A right depressa. Bit of a dispirita. For this directa, it ain’t exactly a departcha. And the title means as well as everything else Mr Ritchie’s become a dodgy spella. What a dismaying orthographical decline since his last pictcha. Which we must now think of as Revolva. This was influenced by the belief system known as Kabbala. Rememba? Espoused by his spouse, whose name may originally have been spelt “Madonner.”"