The first two minutes and 46 seconds of David O. Russell‘s The Fighter told me — gave me a signed, notarized guarantee — that it would be really good. The brotherly stuff, the swagger, the neighborhood, the music…you just knew. What other films have grabbed you from the opening with some kind of special-ass design and energy and saying “Are ya feelin’ it? We’re doin’ this right off the bat.” Robert Altman‘s The Player, of course. Mike Nichols‘ The Graduate — Simon + Garfunkle plus the robot on the walkway. Martin Scorsese‘s Mean Streets (guilt, church, cop sirens, “Be My Baby”), Raging Bull, Goodfellas, The Wolf of Wall Street. Others? And what great or really good films have really slow, sleep-inducing beginnings?

I can smell shit from a mile away with a bad cold, but WildLike (9.25) might be okay. Frank Hall Green‘s direction feels measured and moderate. I can’t put my finger on it but British actress Ella Purnell seems a couple of cuts above. From The Hollywood Reporter‘s Justin Lowe: “By turns both tough and vulnerable, Purnell conveys Mackenzie’s inner turmoil and frequent desperation with both empathy and economy, skirting the ever-present pitfalls of over-emoting. Green’s realistic, efficient script avoids capitulating to the melodramatic treatment that so often plagues this type of material. And Bruce Greenwood’s quiet, assured performance conveys volumes of unspoken emotion with well-tuned facial expressions and body language that replace any number of unnecessary speeches or confrontations.”

About six hours ago I dropped by this morning’s Four Seasons press conference for Baltasar Kormakur‘s Everest (Universal, 9.25), which will open the Venice Film Festival next Wednesday (9.2). I can’t say anything until then but it was a good thing to attend. I can say this without tipping my hand: The major studios have been out of the business of making gripping thrillers that actually adhere to the laws of physics and other natural-world constraints. You know…gravity, adverse weather, getting tired, etc. Superhero, fantasy, comic-book, James Bond, Jason Bourne and Mission: Impossible movies have made a point of ignoring that stuff to death. It theoretically follows that it would seem like a huge shock to run into a film that actually respects the rules of nature and plausibility and takes your breath away all the same. Right? That would be a helluva thing if a movie did that. Theoretically, I mean.

Everest costar Emily Watson, director Baltasar Kormakur at this morning’s Four Seasons press conference. One addresses Kormakur as “Balt.”

John Hawkes, Jake Gyllkenhaal.

Josh Brolin, Michael Kelly.

The gang minus Kelly.

Watson, Kormakur, Jason Clarke.

Sam Newfield‘s The Lost Continent (’51) is a disposable low-budget dinosaur movie with some of the most inept miniature effects shots you’ve ever seen in your life. It costars Cesar Romero, Hillary Brooke, Chick Chandler, Sid Melton, Hugh Beaumont (Leave It To Beaver‘s mellow, laid-back dad) and John Hoyt. But it has one stunning shot — just one! — that I’ve never forgotten since seeing this stupid thing on…what was it, “Mystery Science Theatre 3000” 20 or 25 years ago? It’s a shot of poor Whit Bissell falling backwards off a rocky cliff and his body disappearing through a cloud bank. The shot comes at precisely the 49- or 50-second mark in the trailer. It says something for the super-prolific Newfield (who directed over 250 features from the ’20s through the late ’50s) that he at least delivered one penetrating moment in an otherwise mediocre film.

Craig Zobel‘s Z for Zachariah (Roadside, 8.28) is a parable about racial harmony (or a lack of) in a hidden-away, radiation-free valley in the wake of a nuclear holocaust. Or about survival skills in this realm. Try again minus the blah-blah. It’s a racially-attuned romantic triangle film focusing on the last three people to survive a nuclear war — a conservative, simple-minded, God-fearing farm girl (Margot Robbie), a resourceful, atheistic scientist who knows to how make and fix things (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and a local conservative guy (Chris Pine) who’s a perfect match for Robbie. Except Chewy hooked up with her first and is wary of being elbowed aside or whatever. Still not really it! Why can’t I just spit it out?

Z for Zachariah is a 21st Century The World, The Flesh and the Devil — a story about two whiteys and a fellow of a different ethnic origin, and about who gets to bond and have kids with the pretty girl. And, of course, who the pretty girl likes better and for what reason. Or if she even wants to have kids with either of these guys in the first place. I finally said it!

You can slip on your shiny Fred Astaire pumps and clickety-clack all around the dance floor, but that’s what Z for Zachariah is about.

I smiled when I watched this video of Amy Schumer and Jennifer Lawrence dancing to “Uptown Girl” during last night’s Billy Joel concert in Chicago. Two days ago Schumer and JLaw revealed that they’re working on a screenplay together — cool. But until the proof is in the pudding, I’m going to process this as a bonding exercise and let it go at that. Getting a screenplay to really sing is a murderously difficult thing. Sidenote: I’m not saying that people who shoot phone videos vertically (i.e., declining to respect the universal reference factor of 16:9 horizontal framing) deserve to spend eternity in the ninth circle of hell, but they certainly deserve two dozen lashes. “Not sure if I’m from the lower end of the gene pool or not? Well…here’s proof!”