At Slate's annual Movie Club, you have to weigh through several pages of nonsense (one of its perpetrators being, alas, the estimable Lisa Schwartzbaum) to get to Stephanie Zacharek's sober thoughts. Otherwise we get lines like "after an endless summer of limp, one-laugh-per-half-hour dude comedies (Pineapple Express, Stepbrothers), how big a relief was it to finally crack up at the pumped-up, joke-crammed Tropic Thunder?" and kudos for the "intelligence and technical dexterity of Frost/Nixon and Doubt."