20th Century Fox has suddenly sent Oliver Stone’s “Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps” to a Sept. 24 opening instead of its planned April 23th release.

There are two reasons for this: one is that they’ve submitted the film to the Cannes Film Festival and are awaiting word. It’s more than likely that Cannes will take it, especially with Michael Douglas, Susan Sarandon, Josh Brolin, Shia LaBeouf, Carey Mulligan, and Charlie Sheen in the Oliver Stone cast. What a group for the red carpet !

Second, Fox feels that Sept. 24th is a better bet for Oscar nominations. This may be true, but as long as I’ve been writing about Hollywood, September has been a toss off month. Last year these were the movies released during that week: “Capitalism A Love Story,” “Rage,” “Fame 2009,” “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell,” “The Boys Are Back,” “Coco Before Chanel,” and “Paranormal Activity.” Only the latter had a pulse, but it was a genre film. No Oscar touted film is released in September. Period.

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Peter Jackson’s adaptation of “The Lovely Bones” is the kind of stunning failure we don’t often get to see.

Last night Jackson brought the film and his cast to the Paris Theater for a premiere, and took his chances with an invited audience. For a few minutes, it all seemed okay. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad: the 14-year-old girl who narrates the story, played by Saoirse Ronan, was alive and well. Mark Walhberg (who is very good at creating empathy for his character) and Rachel Weisz were her parents; the latter seemed miscast. Susan Sarandon was the feisty 1970s cool grandma. “The Lovely Bones” had potential.

But then the bottom drops, the shark jumps, a cup of crazy is served, and Alice Sebold’s beautifully wrought, tightly constructed narrative is thrown out. In comes choas in the form of CGI, psychedelic computer graphics, and nightmarish hallucinations that are also stunning to behold but totally and completely irrelevant. You needn’t bring drugs to this movie; you feel as though you’ve taken them. And so “The Lovely Bones” becomes the Unwieldy Mess, a victim of its own overreaching ambitions.

What’s interesting about the novel is that you could give it to five different directors and get five different films. Oliver Stone would do the conpsiracy version, David Lynch would emphasize the creepy small town killing, David Fincher would follow the investigation, and so on. Giving the book to Peter Jackson, whose fanciful spirit made possible the epic “Lord of the Rings” series meant this is what you were going to get: heaps and heaps of Susie Salmon’s teenage fantasies broadcast from heaven. The movie splits between the reality of Susie’s murder and very mannered, brightly rendered graphics. Some of it looks like the Tele-Tubbies, and a lot of it resembles album art from the 1070s. The latter may be intentional since this was the period. Maybe all of Susie’s thoughts are expressed that way because of the time. But one would have been enough.

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It’s been nine years since Michael Douglas has made a really good movie. Nine years — yup — it was in 2000 that “Wonder Boys” and “Traffic” were released. And then, well, it wasn’t such a good decade, except that he married Catherine Zeta-Jones and she won an Oscar for “Chicago.”

But all it takes is a good script, as it turns out, and people who are paying attention, to breathe life into a great movie star’s career. Brian Koppelman wrote “Solitary Man” and directed it with his partner David Levien. They’re the same duo who resurrected “Ocean’s 13″ after “12″ was an unlucky number, and have lots of other good credits. After seeing “Solitary Man” open last night in Toronto, I think Douglas should be sending them a case of Champagne.

“Solitary Man” is no easy film with easy answers. It’s funny and it’s tragic, but it’s beautifully written, directed and acted. Douglas’ Ben is an irredeemable womanizer who had it all: a Harvard education, millions of dollars, and a thriving BMW business, a wonderful family and friends. And then a mid-life crisis causes him to throw it all away, operatically, sensationally and ferociously. It’s a wonder anyone’s talking to him. Actually, few are.

Ben is surrounded by potential support from a doting daughter (Jenna Fischer, from “The Office,” is a total revelation — not the monotone Pam we’ve come to know), ex-wife (Susan Sarandon — splendid as always), best friend (a philosphical Danny DeVito), protege (Jesse Eisenberg), Mary-Louise Parker (ex-girlfriend). But it doesn’t matter. He’s determind to trash everyone’s lives.

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