Oscar buzz abounds for "Solitary Man," a stone cold accurate portrayal of a person consumed with fear, drowning in a rapturous midlife crisis. 

He casts aside every life vest that is tossed to him in favor of the next, young Madison Avenue blonde at the bar. The solitary man is a man who has it all and, yet, turns on himself at the first sign of stormy weather and embarks on a self-destructive path that will surely lead to him dying penniless and alone.  

The ironic part is that the audience isn't exactly sure if he's doing anything wrong--the pain his actions inflict on his family not withstanding.

He's an imperfect man living an imperfect life, blazing a trail that he truly believes with all of his heart is the path of no regrets, endulging in sinful fulfillment, free from responsibility and guilt.  

Michael Douglas is Ben, a bull of a man who isn't scared of anything or anyone. That is, until Death comes to his door to introduce itself. 

It isn't tragedy or hard luck that has befallen this once great man, but the mere thought of tragedy. Just the thought of dying becoming a realistic possibility is enough to paralyze him from the realities of life and send him into a delusional and self-destructive tailspin.  

Douglas boldly forgoes the Hollywood magic, aka tons of makeup, for the sake of the character and the film. It is startling to see the man who brought Gordon Gekko to life, (and who will do so again sometime in the very near future), looking so...tired.  

Past characters aside, Douglas is at his best in "Solitary Man." He forces the audience to see and respect what Ben was as well as what he is, easily swaying back and forth between a strong, loving family man and a selfish, delusional lothario. 

The ease and reality with which Douglas depicts Ben is matched scene for scene by the stellar supporting cast. Danny DeVito, as lifelong friend Jimmy, and the up-and-coming Jesse Eisenberg, as Cheston, the son Ben never had, are both amazing and low key at the same time.  

However, the women are the true foundation that prop Ben up. They are the true on-screen revelations and the ones who, for disappointingly limited screen time, very nearly steal the show. 

Susan Sarandon is ravishing as the loving ex-wife whose empathy is matched only by her luscious silhouette and traffic-stopping curves. The casting of Sarandon is spot on, bringing extra star power to the film while purposely making the audience wonder what the hell Ben was thinking when he betrayed her. 

Jenna Fischer is her usual doll-faced self, while also getting to shed that image a bit and flex her acting muscles as Ben's daughter Susan, who rightfully refuses to go down his dark and lonely path with him. 

Star-in-training Imogen Poots is electric as Allyson, the forbidden fruit daughter of Ben's girlfriend, Jordan. 

And last, but certainly not least, Mary-Louise Parker, most recently of "West Wing" and "Weeds" fame, triumphantly returns to the big-screen scene, masterfully depicting Jordan, while thoroughly matching Douglas' and Fischer's character duality, if not showing them how it is truly done.  

In the end, writer, director, genius Brian Koppelman's masterpiece firmly establishes that denial is a bit like alcohol: Awesome in moderation and brutally unforgiving and tragic when overdone.