In theaters

GHOST RIDER, written and directed by Mark Steven Johnson, based on the Marvel comic book, 110 minutes, rated PG-13.

The tagline for the new “Ghost Rider” movie promises that “Hell is about to be unleashed!” Actually, that might be an understatement.

After seeing the movie, some might question whether it was the apocalypse that was unleashed.

By why split hairs? In this case, the unleashing of hell really means the unveiling of a new big-budget Nicolas Cage movie, which in the wake of the actor’s last movie, “The Wicker Man,” at least proves he’s on familiar ground.

Here, Cage takes the lead as Johnny Blaze, a lean, leather-clad motorcycle daredevil who, as a young man, signed his soul over to the devil (Peter Fonda) in an effort to save his father from terminal cancer. In spite of Johnny’s good intentions, doing so proves a disastrous move. Now, as an adult who at night turns into the fiery, motorcycle-riding skeleton Ghost Rider, Johnny is Mephistopheles’ go-to man when it comes to ridding the world of those demons trying to wrestle the devil out of power.

The chief demon leading this cause is Mephistopheles’ ungrateful son Blackheart (Wes Bentley), who has enlisted several other demons in a quest to bring his old man down. What Blackheart wants is a contract his father signed with the previous ghost rider, which presumably will allow him to consume enough lost souls to make him the most powerful demon of them all.

Key to this happening is Johnny’s relationship with Caretaker (Sam Elliott), a grave digger whose secret past will surprise few when it’s revealed.

Working hard in a romantic subplot are Eva Mendez’s breasts – there isn’t a shot in the movie in which they don’t dominate the screen or detract from her character, a television reporter once in love with Johnny.

Mendez is a washout here – one of Hefner’s Bunnies could have played the role to similar effect – but at least she doesn’t have to drink jellybeans out of martini glasses while listening to music by the Carpenters and watching monkey karate films, as Cage does.

The good news about “Ghost Rider” is that sometimes it’s just bad enough to offer dark moments of camp, which gives the movie an occasional lift. As written by the film’s director, Mark Steven Johnson (“Daredevil”), the dialogue is particularly atrocious – the man can’t write – though the special effects counter in that they are well done.

So, the result is a mix. This isn’t a movie you go to hoping for another “Spider-Man,” but a movie you go to if you agree there’s fun to be had in the occasional cinematic collapse.

Grade: C-

On DVD

SHUT UP & SING, directed by Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck, 93 minutes, rated R.

Free speech and its ramifications are at the heart of the Dixie Chicks documentary “Shut Up & Sing,” which recognizes that for the celebrity, engaging in a public exchange of ideas and opinions isn’t always without its costs. The price can be dire.

For the Dixie Chicks, the all-female group from Texas that includes bandmates Natalie Maines, Emily Robison and Martie Maguire, the backlash began in 2003. It was March, American troops were preparing to invade Iraq, Bush’s popularity was high, and outspoken lead singer Maines, in the heat of a sold-out London performance, unwittingly tossed a verbal grenade into the audience: “Just so you know, we’re ashamed that the president of the United States is from Texas,” she said.

Overseas, the crowd went wild. But here at home, the far right suddenly had an unlikely target in its sights: a hugely successful, beloved country group best known for its songs of broken hearts and infidelity than for creating a political scandal.

Directors Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck deftly chronicle the tumultuous fallout that ensued, with Chicks’ manager Simon Renshaw initially believing that it would all blow over in a matter of days. It didn’t.

Soon, country radio had banned the Chicks from play lists, death threats started to roll in, fans began smashing their CDs in amusing public gatherings (such anger!) and ticket sales for the group’s concerts started to tank. On camera, one Southern fan remarked, “I like their songs, but I wish they’d just shut up and sing.” Others chose to brandish the U.S. flag and wave it in protest while they stood in line for Dixie Chicks concerts. Apparently, tickets to the concerts weren’t refundable and few appeared willing to back their phony convictions if it meant losing money and missing out on a good show.

What’s so compelling about “Shut Up & Sing” isn’t just how it exposes some of the Chicks’ fans as frauds, but how it captures the Chicks themselves in a difficult time of transition. Here is a tight group of friends who literally had to regroup and rethink who they were as performers and as people. The film’s considerable tension comes from the worry, anger and frustration that seized them during that transition.

In the end, as we now know, the experience made the Chicks better, more accomplished artists and performers, with their music turning inward in an effort to comment on the controversy. For the first time, they began writing all of their own material, with the result of that effort being the defiant, Grammy Award-winning CD “Taking the Long Way,” which was released last May and, in a valentine from free speech itself, quickly sold more than 1 million copies in a matter of weeks.

Grade: A-

Visit www.weekinrewind.com, the archive of Bangor Daily News film critic Christopher Smith’s reviews, which appear Mondays and Fridays in the Lifestyle section and weekends in Television as well as on bangordailynews.com. He may be reached at

Christopher@weekinrewind.com.