Lisa's Film Archive

Hail the Half-Blood Prince

2010-02-21T22:45:00.007-06:00

Happy 64th birthday, Alan Rickman!

I would call and leave you a message, but I think your answering machine is full:

Anyway, you rock, Professor. Way to make villainy oh-so-cool. And thank you for your first line in this clip, which may be my favorite line reading of all-time:

I love you, you sexy old man, you.

Golden Gabbing

2010-01-18T14:57:00.009-06:00

I was a total cinematic slacker in 2009. I admit it. But it was a really, really, really tough year for me. 2009, I'll see you in hell. Anyway, back to the matter at hand... I didn't see much last year, so maybe I have no business yakking about the Golden Globes and the fairness or unfairness of it all, but guess what? I'm going to shoot my mouth off regardless.

I don't know much about the workings of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, which is responsible for choosing the winners of the Golden Globes. What I do know is that it's a relatively small, "exclusive" (less than 100 members) group of foreign journalists who cover Hollywood for the rest of the world. These journalists/members are based out of the United States but write for foreign audiences, and they themselves are not native to the United States. I could be wrong about all of this, and please feel free to correct me if I am, but this is what I've gathered from my admittedly very rushed researching. For your consideration, here's a list of the members, the people you either want to praise or blame for the winners.

So, when it comes to movies, there are blockbusters, and there are...non-blockbusters. I know it might be over-simplifying, but that's essentially how it breaks down all year long. There are those that are made to make money and those that are made to win awards...sometimes, a movie does both and gets the audiences AND awards (Titanic and, apparently, Avatar). There's mainstream, and there's not. Just because something bombs at the box office doesn't automatically put it into the non-blockbuster category, though...if it looks like a blockbuster, clucks like a blockbuster...you get the picture. But just because something is artsy doesn't mean it can't also be mainstream, and just because something is mainstream doesn't mean it can't also be artsy. I kind of feel like I'm digging my own grave right now, so I'm going to try to stop babbling. (Sheesh, can you tell I haven't done this in awhile? Yikes...) In conclusion, the movies I'm calling non-blockbusters, in the context of this piece, are what I would consider typical awards fodder (generally end of the year releases, but not exclusively), stuff with substance that deserves to be seen but generally doesn't find the biggest audience or a ton of money, "the good stuff" if you want to be snotty, or independent or arthouse or whatever...basically, you're not going to find Transformers 2 in this category.

Now, all that being said, I don't ever remember there being such a distinct division between blockbusters and non-blockbusters at the Globes as there was this year. I've already been having a blast discussing this on various Facebook status messages (I LOVE talking about this stuff!), but it's especially fascinating and disconcerting this year. There's just such a rift. The 67th Annual Golden Globes was a total popularity contest. I know, I know, people are going to say that it's always a popularity contest, but I don't necessarily agree with that. My point is that it's painfully obvious this time around. If there was the option to go with a commercial choice, the Hollywood Foreign Press took it and ran with it. This is like high school; it could very well be an episode of Glee! Take the Best Actor in a Comedy/Musical category: there's the jock (Robert Downey, Jr., Sherlock Holmes), and then there's the geek (Michael Stuhlbarg, A Serious Man). On what planet would Michael Stuhlbarg NOT deserve this award? Well, this one, apparently, if you ask the HFPA. The cool kid won out. But really, doesn't it make sense when you think about who's voting? Would foreign, globally-conscious voters vote for the flashy Downey, Jr. in a holiday blockbuster or the seriously subtle Stuhlbarg in an under-the-radar gem? Hmm. Downey, Jr. is the more familiar choice, the safe choice and, I propose, the cowardly one.

But I never really thought about this or felt so cynical about it until this year. Have the members of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association been blinded by the bling? This show just seemed so glaringly commercial. I mean, I have a love/hate relationship with awards season (don't we all? We love to hate them!), and whether I agree with the winners or not, I have always LOVED watching the Globes (something about celebrities and booze...). It's maybe my favorite out of all the shows - I love the combination of film and television. Anyway, I feel like the Globes have gotten it right a LOT over the years, so I'm not going to let this year's show muck up its reputation overall. But yeesh...what happened tonight? Well, the box office owned it. The wins for Robert Downey, Jr., Sandra Bullock (I'm sure she's lovely in The Blind Side, but really?? Best Dramatic Actress over all those others?), The Hangover, and Avatar prove that. The box office told credibility and artistry to suck it. That may be a little harsh, but it's how I see it. Since Avatar is a global phenomenon, and the Globes promote, for lack of a better term, global-ness, it makes sense that Avatar won Best Motion Picture Drama. Why would the foreign press care about a film about the Iraq war (The Hurt Locker, which I would have called a lock to win)? Hollywood proper will care when it comes time for the Academy Awards. But globally? Nah. To put it simply, this year's Golden Globes ceremony was a slave to the box office. Or maybe whore is more apt...

Now, some other random thoughts on the show in a segment I'm calling "Things I learned from watching the 67th Annual Golden Globes" (I'm not going to list all the winners or nominees; for a comprehensive list, go here):

Evidently, I need to start watching Glee and Dexter. I'm not being facetious either.

Neil Patrick Harris and Jane Krakowski talked about not being suited for drama because of their enormous foreheads...um, Quentin Tarantino's is still bigger. Than both combined. Sorry, guys.

I still hate the combo Musical/Comedy category. The only reason Nine got nominated is BECAUSE it's a musical - it certainly didn't deserve it otherwise. I think the "musical" label should be cut out completely, and musicals should be placed into whichever category is the most fitting, be it dramatic or comedic. Nine would be a drama. Ray was considered a musical, and thus Jamie Foxx robbed Paul Giamatti of his Golden Globe for Sideways because he was unfairly placed in the same category as Giamatti. Jamie Foxx's portrayal of Ray Charles is not a comedic/musical performance - it is dramatic. And just because the movie is about a singer and has songs in it, that doesn't make it a musical! See also: Walk the Line. At least Nine actually IS a musical, even though it's not a very good one. But where would the brilliant Chicago land - comedy or drama? It's a very dark comedy, certainly, but I would probably come down on the side of drama. Any thoughts on this?

If I'm going by the nominees for Best Comedy (or Musical - arg!), then 2009 was a very, very bland year for comedies. I guarantee you that no one would have even given It's Complicated or Julie & Julia a second thought, much less any nominations, if not for the prestige that Meryl Streep brings with her everywhere she goes. Don't get me wrong, I love her with a fiery passion, but they'll nominate anything she does. Nine, by default, had to be in this category, (500) Days of Summer, from what I hear, is worthy of its nomination, but is The Hangover really all that? What about the brilliant and hilarious Zombieland?

Apparently, The Hangover IS all that, as it racked up yet another award - Best Motion Picture, Musical or Comedy. Well, okay then. I guess I have to see it.

The standard for nominated comedies seems to have plummeted. I can't imagine something like The Hangover being nominated any other year. Why wasn't Superbad nominated in its year? What, that was too low-brow for the Globes, but The Hangover isn't? No, I'm not bitter...

Combining adapated and original screenplays into one category is stupid. And Quentin Tarantino should have won for Inglourious Basterds. Just saying.

Ricky Gervais rules. I especially liked his jab at Mel Gibson. While holding a beer, he introduced Gibson, "I like a drink as much as the next man...unless the next man is Mel Gibson." Ba-zing.

Alec Baldwin needs to go away and give someone else a turn (namely, Steve Carell).

The more time that passes, the less I like Up.

The more often that ludicrously long subtitle to Precious pops up, the more ridiculous it sounds, and the more it, unfortunatly, hurts the credibility of the film. Let. it. go.

Mo'Nique's well-deserved win tonight brings her one step closer to the Oscar. She gave a beautiful speech, too.

Christoph Waltz's well-deserved win tonight brings HIM one step closer to the Oscar.

I love Colin Farrell more every day. His Best Actor (Musical/Comedy) Globe win last year for In Bruges was one of the most wonderful and unexpected surprises that the show has ever given me. It might just be my favorite Globe win of all time. Farrell was back tonight, as a past winner, to present an award. I don't remember exactly what was said verbatim, but Ricky Gervais talked about how film brings people together and shatters stereotypes, something like that. He solemnly segued, "One stereotype I hate is that all Irishmen are just drunk, swearing hellraisers." Without skipping a beat, Gervais promptly introduced Colin Farrell. Farrell came out and took it like a champ. He even hugged Gervais. He then said, in a playful sing-songy voice, "Oh, I once was a cliché." He continued, "I heard Ricky had specifically asked to introduce me, and I thought...'Oh, balls.'" It was glorious.

And finally, speaking of glorious, or inglourious to be precise...I absolutlely LOVE Christoph Waltz's thematic, custom-tailored-for-the-occasion acceptance speeches. It's really rather marvelous. The other night at the Critics' Choice Awards, he spoke of the series of "choices" that brought him to that moment and that award. Last night, at the Golden Globes, because it was a global award involving our whole planet, he went with an astronomical theme (and I don't mean "astronomical" in the sense of being huge, I mean it literally, as in pertaining to astronomy). Waltz talked about his "globe," being exposed to the gravitational forces of Quentin Tarantino, and being a part of the bigger constellation of this film...oh hell, just watch it, it's great:

I think his approach to these speeches is so adorable and totally refreshing. Most people just recycle the same thing over and over; Waltz is actually thoughtful enough to recognize and appreciate each honor in its own right by expressing his gratitude in terms of the award itself. I think that's just extraordinary. What a sweet, humble, gracious, beautiful man. Christoph Waltz, you're a hell of a guy, you deserve every bit of this, and I can't wait to hear what you do with your Oscar speech.

Blood Lust, Caution

2009-11-16T21:04:00.006-06:00

“So the lion fell in love with the lamb,” vampire Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) tells Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart). “What a stupid lamb,” the smitten Bella pants at him. Edward wryly and tenderly counters with a half-chuckle, “What a sick, masochistic lion.” Ladies and gentlemen, behold the wonderful awfulness of Twilight. Funny, I felt kind of stupid and masochistic for watching it. I always knew that I would watch it, though. I haven’t been consciously avoiding it (hmm, maybe I have been a little - I‘m a Harry Potter girl, so I think there‘s a little spite there), but it took me awhile to get around to it. But what perfect timing! I took the plunge less than a week before the next installment hits theaters. I (masochistically, perhaps) signed up to review New Moon for a site I’ve been writing for, so this was my necessary homework. I mean, I’m sure I could have managed the sequel without seeing this one first, but alas, it was just my time for Twilight. It was just my time. I’m not going to lie or make excuses - I’ve been dying to see it. Part of me is always going to be a squealing teenage girl. I’ve been so curious about the phenomenon. Signing up to review New Moon was no accident; it was my motivation, my way in, at long last.

Twilight isn’t a great movie by any means. In fact, the more I think about it, the more glaring the problems become. In the moment, though, I enjoyed it quite a bit. For sheer, mindless entertainment - and let me stress the mindless part - it’s good stuff. Her mom wants to go on the road with her new husband, so Bella Swan, a high school junior, decides to leave Phoenix and go live with her dad in middle-of-nowhere Forks, Washington, a rainy, dreary place (ideal if you’re a vampire). The town is very small, so the new girl is exotic and instantly popular, even though Bella doesn’t particularly give people any real reason to like her. She’s pretty bland, actually, but I‘ll talk more about that later. Bella is intrigued by the independent Cullen clan, especially broodingly gorgeous Edward. You know from the instant she sees him that the two are destined to fall in love. They’re partnered up in biology class, but it seems like Edward can’t stand the smell of her. Bella thinks that she repulses him. It turns out that her scent was just too intoxicating to him. He craved her blood more than he had ever craved human blood before. She was irresistible to him; he even calls her “my own personal brand of heroin.” Insert eye roll here. Even after saving her life superhero-style (he has super-strength and super-speed), he insists that they stay away from each other, but of course, that’s not going to happen. She won’t let it.

Bella is fascinated by Edward; he’s a mystery, and she needs to solve him. We know that Edward is a vampire, but it takes Bella about half of the two-hour running time to figure it out. Once it was out in the open, I enjoyed the movie a lot more. I just found their interactions much more interesting when they could talk about it. Overall, I think Twilight is a bit long. It was a little too slow on the set-up, and since this is the first in a series, there’s a ton of set-up. Oh, before I forget, there’s a lot more going on plot-wise: Edward‘s vampire family (I found them delightful - they have some great scenes, including a very awkward, refreshingly unconventional, and funny dinner visit with Bella at their home), rival vampires who actually do kill humans (Edward’s family sustains on animal blood), Bella’s developing relationship with her estranged father, and Native Americans with an ancestral connection to wolves who have a legendary beef with Edward’s kind (one young man named Jacob, played by Taylor Lautner, is especially interested in Bella - cue impending love triangle!). The other plot elements aren’t superfluous, per se; it’s just that nothing else matters except the love story between Bella and Edward. Director Catherine Hardwicke doesn’t care about anything else, and consequently, neither do we. But it’s okay, because the swooning love story is the best part.

I haven’t read the books by Stephenie Meyer, and I’m not sure if I ever want to. I think the movies (yes, that’s plural - it’s a visual potato chip, you can’t watch just one) will be enough for me. I suspect that the books might make me want to throw things, that her flowery, seemingly aimless prose would grate on me. More importantly, I’m really angry with Meyer for wasting a critical opportunity to give the young masses a female character with strength and substance. There’s nothing strong or substantial about Bella whatsoever! Instead, Meyer has given young girls a simpering heroine whose identity is totally and inextricably linked with a man. Edward IS her identity. And he’s all protective of her, which sounds sweet, but it’s just his way to control her. He owns her, and she seems fine and dandy with being a possession. Bella also rather easily makes up her mind that she wants to become a vampire so that she can live forever with Edward. Is that all that she aspires to, really? Doesn’t she want anything else out of life? I know that not every book or movie has an obligation to be a shining beacon of powerful womandom, but come on, Bella is absolutely ridiculous. She’s weak and pitiful. And what makes the whole thing even more abominable is that this is a movie directed by a woman, written by a woman, and based on a book by a woman…tsk tsk, ladies. Way to represent. I feel sorry for all of the young girls who are undoubtedly looking up to Bella as a role model. They deserve better. Shame on you, Ms. Meyer.

Not only does Bella make me ashamed to be a woman, she’s not even interesting as a character. I don’t get why people like her, and I certainly don’t understand Edward’s instantaneous, undying devotion to her. What does she have to offer? What does she bring to the table? She’s totally devoid of personality, but she’s pretty, so therefore she has value, and everyone fawns all over her. Great message. I think Meyer and screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg have confused mopiness with depth. Seriously, why are we supposed to care about her? Edward doesn’t have much going on other than constant brooding and good looks either, but he’s not the protagonist, Bella is. Bella being so boring is unforgivable. Ugh. She kind of makes me sick.

Twilight and Harry Potter don’t really have much in common, but they’re definitely compared, and it annoys me, because Twilight doesn’t deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Harry Potter. They’re both global phenomenons aimed at a certain age group and dealing with the extraordinary (magic, vampires), but the similarities end there. I’ve always asserted rather emphatically that Harry Potter, in whatever incarnation, is far superior to Twilight, and after finally exposing myself to Twilight, I was right. Twilight is nothing compared to Harry Potter. For starters, the target demographic is obviously totally different. I can’t imagine many young males picking up a copy of Twilight. In fact, I don’t see many males reading Twilight at all, no matter what age. Actually, I don’t even think Twilight would appeal to women over a certain age (what that age is, exactly, I’m not sure - I’m a writer, not a sociologist). Twilight is smut (tame smut, but smut nonetheless) for teenage girls. Harry Potter, while maybe more popular with females and younger readers, is kind of a gender leveler that appeals to all ages. Also, with Twilight, what you see is exactly what you get. There’s absolutely nothing else going on there, no subtext or deeper meaning, nothing at stake (ha, pun totally intended). And even though Harry Potter takes place in a more fantastical world, the way the material is written in the books (J.K. Rowling is a genius/goddess) and approached in the films makes it feel relatable and real, way more than anything in Twilight. Both series also deal with growing up and the angst that process entails, but Harry Potter does it far more successfully, with intuitiveness and intelligence and resonance. I could go on and on about this subject forever, possibly even in a thesis, so I have to stop myself now. In short: yay Harry Potter, boo Twilight.

As far as the filmmaking in Twilight goes, it’s a mixed bag. The special effects are cringe-inducingly awful, pedestrian really, but the cool cinematography (cool as in lots of blue) by Elliot Davis is quite striking. The film has a gorgeous look to it, but the script is abysmally cheesy. Granted, I haven’t read the book, so I don’t know how much of it is simply adapted cheese versus organic (my gut tells me the onus falls primarily on Meyer). The score by frequent Coen-collaborator Carter Burwell (what are you doing, man?!) is ominously beautiful, but the directing by Catherine Hardwicke (capable of insight and greatness, i.e. Thirteen) is negligible at best. The acting is decent but nothing terribly special. Some performances are definitely better than others. For instance, I found the supporting actors comprising the Cullen clan vibrant and engaging (especially the earnest Peter Facinelli and the spunky Ashley Greene). Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson…eh, what can I say? To be fair, they’re not required to do much except for heave at each other and brood, and I guess they do that well enough. They both have a strong presence, for sure, and they look good on screen, but that’s about it. I don’t foresee a whole lot of growth in their performances throughout the rest of the series, which is probably largely due to the fact that their characters are so glaringly one-note. Still, I don’t think these two young actors will be challenging themselves much here. It’s a shame, because I know both are capable of better, especially Stewart.

The vampire lore is so ludicrous. I thought vampires were supposed to burst into flames in the light, not sparkle like diamonds. It’s truly Vampire Lite. And for all of its smuttiness, Twilight is actually pretty tame. There’s a lot of heavy breathing but very little follow-through. It’s all talk, all foreplay with no consummation. It’s really kind of juvenile. So…why did I like it so much?What’s wrong with me?! I’ve talked forever and a day about all of its problems, but when it comes down to it, I was really, really into Twilight. It got under my skin, deep, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I even dreamt about it! Logic be damned, I enjoyed the smut, the absurd melodrama, and the swooning romance. Oh, it’s so achingly, unabashedly romantic! I was enraptured by Bella and Edward, sucked in by the intensity of their heaving, whimpering, creepily dependent love. Stewart and Pattinson have smoldering chemistry, and it’s dizzying, hot even. And I never thought I would say this, but I thought Robert Pattinson was positively dreamy! I feel like I’ve gone into arrested development or something. As a woman, I’m affronted by its misogynistic, anti-feminist implications; as a person with a brain, I’m appalled by its idiocy. But so help me…I liked this silly, stupid movie…a lot. On some sick level, I might even love it. I feel like a hypocrite, and I kind of hate myself for it, but there it is. Twilight is mesmerizing nonsense, the guiltiest of all guilty pleasures. I was intoxicated by it.

I can’t wait to see the sequel. I need more. Twilight has become my own personal brand of heroin, I guess. In voice-over, Bella says about Edward, “I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” Well, that’s how I feel about Twilight. I’m in now…unconditionally and irrevocably. Sigh. What have I done?

Rating: ***1/2 (out of 5)

Reviewland

2009-10-07T15:46:00.018-05:00

Over the past five months, I’ve seen a handful of films in theaters: Up, Public Enemies, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Cold Souls, and Inglourious Basterds. With each one, I was determined to make a comeback. And then, one by one, they all faded away. It’s not that they weren’t memorable (quite the contrary, actually); I just failed in my attempts at writing. Too much time passed, and I was convinced that the next film would be the one, and so on. Well, I’m not reviewing any of those films today. The film that has brought me back from the dead (so to speak, of course) is…drum roll, please…Zombieland. My first review of a 2009 release and my first blog post in over 6 months, and I’m talking about zombies? Go figure. As unexpected as this review is, though, I'm embracing it. I don’t know why this film is the one, it just is. Zombieland is a thrilling surprise. I thought I would like it and that it would be a lot of fun, but I had no idea just how phenomenal the experience would be.

Zombieland is a fantastic film from start to finish. I would even call it a masterpiece. It’s so much more than just a zombie movie. In fact, I wouldn’t even put it in that genre. This is a coming-of-age comedy, and a witty, exhilarating one at that. The apocalyptic story centers around Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), a college-aged loner with phobias and issues galore, as he survives in what he dubs “Zombieland.” Basically, humanity has been ravaged by a virus (some advanced form of Mad Cow, hilariously enough) that turns people into zombies. Columbus is one of the few humans left on the face of the earth, and he has survived this long because, well, he was never much of a people person to begin with, so it was easier for him to remain uninfected. He also has a set of rules that he follows obsessively (these include: “don’t be a hero" and “beware of bathrooms"). He meets up with Woody Harrelson’s Tallahassee, a zombie killing machine, and the resourceful Wichita and her little sister Little Rock (they‘re all given geographical names). The four of them become bonded together, reluctantly and inextricably.

Everyone is on a quest for something (that‘s great screenwriting): Tallahassee wants to find a Twinkie and destroy as many zombies as possible (he has an understandable chip on his shoulder), Wichita wants to keep Little Rock safe and to bring her to an amusement park in California so that she can be a kid again, Little Rock wants to stick with her sister and go to said amusement park, and Columbus is initially searching for his parents and his home, but when he meets Wichita, he starts looking within himself and embarks on a journey of romantic/sexual awakening and self-discovery. They all find home in each other. Isn’t that sweet? I’m not being sarcastic either, I really mean it. Zombieland is wonderfully sweet without ever being sappy.

All sweetness aside, there is a TON of violence and blood in Zombieland. It works as a parody of zombie flicks, as well as a zombie movie on its own terms. It’s uncompromisingly gory and unabashedly silly. The visual effects are astounding, from the zombies themselves to the stunts to Columbus’ rules intermittently popping up on the screen and moving around. Michael Bonvillain’s cinematography is gorgeously muted and at the same time vibrant and visceral. David Sardy’s score really got under my skin, in a really good way. It’s very insistent and powerful, and at times seriously beautiful, especially during the climax of the film. The only problem I have with it, actually, is that it isn’t available to the public to buy or download. That needs to be fixed immediately. The production design by Maher Ahmad and set decoration by Gene Serdena are exquisite. The world is so amazingly believable. I was especially blown away by the look of the amusement park. The running time is perfect; it doesn’t overstay its welcome, and it doesn’t waste any time getting into the story. Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick’s script is impeccably brilliant, and Ruben Fleischer’s direction is relaxed (he lets the actors explore their characters), yet purposeful and confident, with great flair. Zombieland is pretty much the total package.

The cast is incredible. I loved seeing Abigail Breslin holding Woody Harrelson at gunpoint and then later describing Hannah Montana to him. She really holds her own here and challenges herself by doing something different. I’ve been a fan of Emma Stone since Superbad, and I think she’s poised to become a big star. She has an ease about her that instantly elicits the viewer's empathy. And she’s a strong, kickass female presence. Her performance as Wichita is multi-faceted and memorable. Jesse Eisenberg is similar to Michael Cera in persona and acting style, I don’t think anyone will deny that, but Eisenberg is more likeable, doesn’t seem as needy, and has more going on than just the persona (I'm not sure that Cera does, though he does do his shtick extremely well). I think Eisenberg has significantly more depth and range than Cera. He’s adorably loveable as neurotic, geeky Columbus, and he has that quality that just makes you want to root for him. Even though this is totally an ensemble effort, Woody Harrelson stood out the most for me. He’s hot (really? did I just say that?), hilarious, and moving - he's just awesome. There’s also an epic cameo, but I’ll let you discover that on your own. *wink*

I absolutely LOVED Zombieland. I honestly can’t find a single thing that I didn’t like about it. It does exactly what it sets out to do. It’s funny as hell, smart, sweet, suspenseful, romantic, touching, exciting, exuberant, and emotionally engaging - it’s perfect. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Well played, Zombieland. And thank you.

Rating: ***** (out of 5 stars)

Question: Would a Rose by Any Other Name Smell as Sweet?

2009-03-16T12:23:00.022-05:00

Answer: When the rose is an iconic building, no. No, no, no. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! NO!!!! No.

Le sigh.

Chicago is experiencing an identity crisis, courtesy of the egomaniacs at Willis Group. Who? Exactly. Our beloved Sears Tower is soon to become the Willis Tower. And I thought the British stopped colonizing a long time ago...

I'm very much of the opinion of this editorial piece from the Daily Herald (originally here):

"Let this be a lesson to whomever buys Wrigley Field. The name matters.

Apparently, Willis Group Holdings of London thought they could just march across the pond and rename an iconic building and no one would notice or care.

Granted, we in the Chicago area don't have as much history as England boasts, but, hey, three decades of calling the tallest building in the United States the Sears Tower means something to us.

'With the Sears Tower name having international cachet, you could argue that imposing a new name might be kind of cheeky on their part,' Tim Samuelson, Chicago's cultural historian, told The New York Times.

Perhaps Willis should have done a little homework first and talked to some Chicagoans. Instead, their chief executive told the Chicago Tribune he was surprised at the uproar. And its spokesman told our reporter Jamie Sotonoff that 'This is a new day, and over time, Chicagoans may come to embrace the Willis name.'

We wouldn't count on it. And we wouldn't count on most of us ever calling the building anything but Sears Tower.

As Sotonoff detailed in a story Saturday, we cling to the name we know even when politicians or business execs try to foist new monikers on us.

Granted, United had an easier time getting buy-in on the new United Center because the old Chicago Stadium was demolished. The same could have been said for U.S. Cellular Field, but even tearing down the old Comiskey Park has done nothing to get regular usage of the new name.

Politicians think it's honorable to rename our tollways for politicians and do-gooders. And that's well and good. But the directionally challenged or those who like using numbers for their roads still are in the majority, so the Reagan Tollway, for example, is still the East-West Tollway or I-88 to most of us.

We know Willis has every right to rename the building. They paid $2 million for 140,000 square feet of office space for 500 employees and got the naming rights thrown in. Normally, that would be great news, especially in these trying times. And most of it is.

But as noted earlier, the name counts. Nothing against Macy's really, but it's still hard for many to embrace the store that took over Marshall Field's. That's probably not as evident in the stores Macy's built since they came to town, but it certainly is for the venerable department store building they took over on State Street.

Macy's has had to spend a lot of money overcoming those obstacles in Chicago. But Willis, a global retail insurance broker, has no direct dealings with consumers. They have no image to build up. So why?

'It's ego,' Bob Killian, CEO of Chicago-based Killian Advertising, told Sotonoff.

Yes, we can hear them denying that all the way from London: 'Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis,' they might say.

Hmmm. We might say that too."

Step off, Willis. When you mess with Chicago, you mess with Chicagoans. We're bloody pissed. And not like you'd care, but our rich history is full of much more than just buildings...perhaps you've heard of Al Capone? I'm just saying...

Readers, please help preserve Chicago's heritage and sign the petition at: http://www.itsthesearstower.com/.

Disorder of the Phoenix

2009-03-12T14:00:00.009-05:00

Is it performance art? Is it mental illness and/or drug addiction? You decide!

Whatever it is...wow. I...I'm just...speechless. Holy hell, Joaquin...

A Knight's Tale

2009-03-06T00:19:00.035-06:00

"I'm not good at future planning. I don't plan at all. I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow. I don't have a day planner and I don't have a diary. I completely live in the now, not in the past, not in the future.” - Heath Ledger

Hey folks, remember this?

And then my full-blown homage for the midnight screening? (Taken in the bathroom by myself, thank you very much.)

Newcomers to my blog, that is me. Maybe it’s not the best first impression, but oh well. I embraced my inner freak in honor of Heath Ledger. This is me before the midnight screening of The Dark Knight, some time during the 11 p.m. hour on July 17, 2008. I was, surprisingly, one of very few people who dressed up or otherwise made themselves really visible in a crowd for the sake of the film. I was damn proud, though. And I looked good. In fact, I believe I was the only female with Joker make-up on at all. I was certainly the most drastic. How cool of a chick am I?

It’s over 7 months later. In that time, The Dark Knight became the second highest-grossing film of all time and an instant classic (check its prestigious place on the IMDB Top 250), and Heath Ledger posthumously OWNED awards season, capping it off with his much-deserved Oscar on February 22nd (exactly 13 months from this death). And…we get to the heart of this ridiculous review postponement…literally. When I typed out Heath Ledger’s name, my heart skipped a beat, and it feels like a bunch of bats are flapping around in my stomach. I had to accept that he was really gone a long time ago. I did it in the form of a written tribute, which you can check out here. It took me awhile to write that after he died, but nowhere near as long as it’s taken me to write this review. To write this review, I would have to face it all over again…rip off the still-fresh scab and mourn him once more in a major way. Every letter I type is a knife to my heart. Once you see how long this review is (and maybe that’s your warning to get out now if you’re not up for it), you’ll understand why my heart has more holes than Shia LaBeouf.

I saw The Dark Knight a few times in theaters (once in IMAX - it was I-MAZING). No review. And then time passed. Well, it had to be totally fresh in my mind, so I wanted to wait until I could see it again before writing about it. I owed it to the film and to Heath. So, I waited until December, when it was released on DVD. I watched it again. No review. I saw more movies and didn’t believe I could write the review and do it justice until I sat down and watched it AGAIN. It continued this way for awhile. I wanted to watch it on the one year anniversary of Heath Ledger’s death, which, incidentally, was also the day he was nominated for an Oscar for his role in The Dark Knight. I thought it would be perfect to post my review that day. But it didn’t happen. At the very least, I wanted to post something, even just a picture of him and a few words saying how much we still missed him a year later, that he had never left my thoughts or my heart, to congratulate him on his achievement, and to thank him for being him. I couldn’t even do that. I couldn’t even put up a simple post. I regret it so much. I feel like I failed him. I’m sorry, Heath.

I don’t know how many times I’ve seen The Dark Knight at this point. Almost ten maybe? Like Rachel Dawes and her legal briefs, I know this film backwards now. I kept insisting that I couldn’t write my review unless I had JUST watched it, so I was able to procrastinate for a long time. I really wasn’t doing it consciously. I sincerely believed that it couldn’t be done any other way. I still believe that my multiple viewings will help this review, but I probably could have done it just as well long ago. Who knows? It doesn’t matter. And I HAVE, incidentally, watched it recently (most of it anyway), just before the Oscars. I haven’t finished it, but you know what? I think I’m ready anyway…if the tears will only stay out of my eyes long enough. I was mainly re-watching it so that I could document Heath Ledger’s performance as vividly and with as much detail as he brought The Joker to life. But honestly, every second of Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight was indelibly burned into my very being on that first viewing at midnight over 7 months ago. Well, this one’s for you, Heath. Now, a deep breath, and here…we…go.

The Dark Knight is not a “superhero movie”; it is a film drama that contains action and suspense and just happens to have a superhero in it. It is a transcendently perfect, and dare I say the only, example of the fusion of blockbuster and art. Titanic had the numbers but not really the elements of a blockbuster. The Dark Knight looks like a blockbuster, sounds like a blockbuster, and continues to have the success of a blockbuster, but it also has serious artistic credibility. You’re a wizard, Christopher Nolan. Tim and Joel who? Nolan’s Batman films are THE definitive Batman films, and The Dark Knight easily surpasses the didn’t-think-it-could-get-any-better superbness of Batman Begins. As for a third film…well, it will be hard for Nolan to top The Dark Knight, let me just put it that way. I don’t know if he should even try, but that’s a discussion for another time and place. In The Dark Knight, the stakes are higher. People and things matter, souls are bruised, damaged, and constantly at risk, and there’s enough pathos and neuroses to fill, nay, overflow Lake Michigan. It is worthy of what is perhaps my favorite adjective to describe a film. It is…wait for it…delicious.

Initially, I thought the plot was unnecessarily convoluted and a tad boring. I am no longer of this opinion. When you see a midnight screening, or any packed screening but especially the midnight one, you have to be prepared to miss about 55% of the dialogue due to boisterous audience reaction. And it’s okay, it’s just part of an experience that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Usually, though, this necessitates a second viewing. If you care enough to see the midnight showing, you’re probably not just going to see the movie once in theaters anyway. The Dark Knight has a lot of dialogue that explains the plot, so if you miss a significant portion of it, you have a problem. You‘re bored, lost, or screwed. On that note, I have to congratulate Nolan and company, yet again, for making a blockbuster in which the story challenges you and rewards diligent watching. They so could have been lazy about it. The story could have been total crap, and the film would have made just as much money. I appreciate the effort so much, and with each subsequent viewing, I’ve only admired the story more and more. Everything clicks together in gloriously labyrinthine fashion.

Since everyone has seen The Dark Knight (I heard Osama bin Laden got a Blu-Ray player just to watch this film) and given my description of the plot as “labyrinthine,” I’m going to do something that is against every fiber of my being as a critic and NOT summarize the plot. Stop it, nagging stomach monster! I just think my time is better utilized elsewhere in this review. The themes that are explored within the plot are epic, timeless, and rooted in the deepest literary traditions: good versus evil, sanity versus insanity, law versus anarchy, order versus chaos, morality (“Know your limits, Master Wayne”), corruption, greed, mortality, honor…just to name a few. I love how deep this film goes, and how brazenly it does so. See? It IS possible for a summer blockbuster to make you think.

I think Chicago is the greatest city in the world; the fact that it also doubles as Christopher Nolan’s Gotham City is simply icing on the cake. The Dark Knight utilizes Chicago to previously untapped awesome potential. I don’t think anyone has ever captured its essence on film better than Christopher Nolan. I practically burst with pride knowing that I can look at the film and go, “That’s MY city.” I recognize the landmarks. I’ve seen those views. I’ve been to those places. Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Christopher Nolan…they were HERE. My feet have walked the same ground. I’ve probably stood in some of the very same spots. I remember stalking this one desolate shooting area a couple summers ago for HOURS, taking more laps than a NASCAR driver, waiting oh-so-hopefully for someone to emerge from a trailer, and being okay with it when no one did because I could feel them there. I was a part of it, even for the smallest moment in time. What a rush. Christopher Nolan, director of photography Wally Pfister, production designer Nathan Crowley, set decorator Peter Lando, and a team of art directors turned Chicago into a Gothic Gotham wonderland worthy of F.W. Murnau or the most Expressive Germans. Sweet home Chicago, baby.

If the film didn’t look good enough already, check out the visual effects. The chase scene with The Joker (in a semi), Batman (in the Batmobile-turned-Batpod), and Harvey Dent (in an armored police truck) is one of the best action sequences ever. Period. It’s SO exciting and masterfully choreographed. The seamless blending of visual effects trickery and actual stunt work (That’s a real truck that flips over! And I KNOW that street!) is mind-blowing. This is the power of moviemaking, its ability to inspire awe and create magic. The truck flipping over and barreling down the street at the screen is the Lumière Brothers’ 1895 film The Arrival of the Train: Redux. You can witness the history of cinema unfolding as you watch The Dark Knight, and it’s thrilling.

The editing looks effortless (though I know it couldn’t have been easy!), the sound design is impeccable (the sounds of Gotham penetrate the darkest recesses of your mind), the script by Christopher Nolan and his brother Jonathan Nolan (with story by Christopher Nolan and David S. Goyer) is marvelous and should have been nominated for an Oscar, just like Christopher Nolan (especially) should have been for his directing. Let’s be real - The Dark Knight got the shaft at the Oscars (The Lord of the Rings but NOT The Dark Knight? Come on, people!). Christopher Nolan is present in every frame of the film, and his command of this massive project is nothing short of Herculean.

For me, though, the most egregious Oscar snub against The Dark Knight was the random disqualification of Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard’s brilliant and innovative score from contention. It wasn’t even eligible to be nominated! I don’t know what stupid reason the Academy came up with this time, nor do I care. They’re idiots no matter what reason was given. This score should have been recognized. It’s dark, twisted, and ominous at times, heroic and soaring at others, and always a powerful driving force that is integral to the film’s overall success. The track they created as The Joker’s theme had to do Heath Ledger and his performance justice, and it does. Man, does it. Listen:

They got it so right. All of it. What magnificent work from two amazing composers.

Acting: the final piece of the astounding puzzle that is The Dark Knight. Now, I need to make it clear that Heath Ledger is the focus of this review. For me, it can’t be any other way. I apologize to the other cast members (main and supporting); this is not a slight on you by any means. This cast has electrifying chemistry and is one of the strongest and best ensembles of the year. I don’t want to dismiss the significance and brilliance (some more significant and brilliant than others, but I’ll get to that) of their performances. I’m sorry, but the enormity of Heath Ledger and his work as The Joker eclipses the cast, crew, and the entire film. That’s where I’m at with my review, and I honestly don’t think his “Dark Knight family,” as Gary Oldman called them, would have it any other way either.

So, let me try to run through the other performances as non-dismissively as possible. Eric Roberts admirably and smarmily steps in for Tom Wilkinson as slick, charming mob boss Salvatore Maroni (Never fear, Mickey Rourke! Eric Roberts IS getting work!), Cillian Murphy (love him!) makes the psychotic most of his far-too-brief cameo as The Scarecrow. Maggie Gyllenhaal...ugh. You ARE the weakest link. Goodbye. Seriously, she sucks. She normally doesn’t, so I don’t get what happened here, but she really is terrible. Way to represent for the ladies, Mags. But Gotham is a man’s world, right? And I’m okay with that.

I feel a bit sad for Christian Bale because I think Batman is sort of a thankless role. Don’t get me wrong, in Nolan’s films, Batman/Bruce Wayne is a trillion times better than the shmuck in the other movies (especially Michael Keaton - LORD, is that man dull…). He’s a compelling character, and we got really involved in his evolution in the stellar Batman Begins (an impressive origin story, indeed), but The Dark Knight is back to being all about the villains. It’s inevitable, perhaps. Anyway, Bale’s Batman is pissed all the time (after the release of his tantrum on the set of Terminator: Salvation, maybe it wasn‘t a stretch). He punches really hard and growls more than Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino. But his rage is palpable, ferocious, and utterly believable. He’s equally good when he’s self-doubting, tormented Bruce Wayne. Bale’s worthy of being called the Dark Knight.

Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman are, well, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman. They’re great, of course! Both are sassy and sincere in their roles. Caine brings such a dignified, compassionate, melancholy gravity to Alfred, and Freeman is commanding and noble as the smart as hell Lucius Fox. If I can be superficial for a moment (and I think I’ve done enough analysis to earn it!), could Aaron Eckhart BE any more good-looking? What a dreamboat. He has the most genuine, trustworthy face, and to play Harvey Dent, it's ALL about the face...right? The casting of Eckhart as Gotham’s White Knight is spot-on (I can’t see anyone else in the role). He can disarm you as soon as look at you (I mean, swoon! Who WOULDN’T believe in Harvey Dent?), but watch out when he dabbles with his dark side. He’s downright frightening (and he has to compete with Heath Ledger‘s terrifying-ness, so it‘s even more impressive). But Harvey struggles with his choices and morals, and Eckhart makes us care deeply about the character. Eckhart undergoes a startling transformation with Harvey Dent that is something to behold. His character has, without question, the biggest and most dramatic arc. Aaron Eckhart easily could have gotten nominated for Best Supporting Actor. He hasn’t gotten enough credit.

Speaking of not getting enough credit, I want to hug Gary Oldman for his work in The Dark Knight. What he does with Jim Gordon is nothing short of a miracle. And he totally NAILS that Chicago accent. Oh, to hear him say, “Da Bears,” just one time… I adore him. Even more than Aaron Eckhart (marginally, though - it’s a tough call), Oldman does award-quality acting in this film. I would even argue that Gary Oldman SHOULD have gotten a nomination for Best Supporting Actor. He takes my breath away in The Dark Knight. He’s the ultimate good guy, but he's never a wimp. I totally agree with Peter Traver‘s assessment that he "is so skilled that he makes virtue exciting." He’s the film’s moral backbone and a pillar of strength every step of the way. Gary Oldman is so amazing that he makes me want to weep. Seriously. He infuses Gordon with such earnestness, integrity, and hope that he made my heart swell and actually did bring tears to my eyes. I just wish I could bottle Gary Oldman’s goodness in The Dark Knight and carry it around in my pocket. Is that creepy? I don’t care. He’s SO wonderful! Apparently, he’s that wonderful in real life, too:

How moving and lovely. He rocks. Gary Oldman, will you marry me?

I’m going to continue my unorthodox approach to this review by finishing the review of the film before the review as a whole is actually over. How’s that for labyrinthine? Basically, I want to conclude my thoughts on The Dark Knight as a film before I move on to Heath Ledger (gulp). Please, I don’t want this to be interpreted as me dismissing the film. I mean, go back and read, it’s all there! The Dark Knight is not one of the ten best films of all time (as IMDB users seem to think), nor is it even the best film of the year (although it’s up there). It is, however, the best superhero film/film about a superhero ever made, and a masterpiece in its own right. It lived up to the hype…and then some. Now that’s super.

Heath Ledger, it’s your turn now, sweet prince.

I think this short clip of an interview done with Heath Ledger shortly before his death is a good starting point. I’m not sure why. It feels right. It’s about how his daughter changed his life and how he feels about death. He displays remarkable sensitivity and wisdom (far beyond his years), and it’s so eerily cryptic…it just blows me away.

Heath Ledger…sigh…cinema is in your debt forever. His Joker is already being hailed by many, and rightfully so, as the best movie villain of all time. Before Ledger redefined what a villain was, Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter topped many lists (including the, um, illustrious AFI list of villains). Strike me down if you must, but I have always thought that The Silence of the Lambs, Hopkins, and the character of Hannibal Lecter were WILDLY overrated. The top 5 of the AFI list of best villains continues as follows: 2) Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates in Psycho (this is Heath’s time now, but let me just say that I could probably write a dissertation about the inaccuracies or, as Norman would say, “falsities,” of that categorization in which I would tear apart that haphazard, reductionist labeling of a character as complex as Norman Bates - ugh, you test me, AFI); 3) Darth Vader in Star Wars (I get that); 4) the ever-creepy Margaret Hamilton as the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz (I TOTALLY get that, and so does my childhood); and 5) Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher) in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (meh, okay, but I wouldn’t put her that high).

Here are a couple of the criteria that the AFI used when compiling their list:

Cultural Impact: Characters who have a made a mark on American society in matters of style and substance.
Legacy: Characters who elicit strong reactions across time, enriching America's film heritage while continuing to inspire contemporary artists and audiences.

Maybe Heath Ledger doesn’t have the longevity yet, but he will. In terms of cultural impact, well, he truly created a monster. Here’s what the AFI thinks of villainy: “For voting purposes, a ‘villain’ was defined as a character(s) whose wickedness of mind, selfishness of character and will to power are sometimes masked by beauty and nobility, while others may rage unmasked. They can be horribly evil or grandiosely funny, but are ultimately tragic.” Despite their grammatical ineptitude, I think they’ve got something there. The Joker’s wickedness of mind, selfishness of character, and will to power definitely rage unmasked. He is, at times, grandiosely funny, but ALWAYS horribly evil. Heath Ledger is mesmerizing and terrifying in The Dark Knight. Just like he owned awards season, he completely owns this film. He didn’t hold anything back with his performance, a performance that, ultimately, MAY have led, in some way, to his far-too-premature death.

I figured now would be a good time to take a little breather (there's a lot coming up still) and listen to Heath talk about playing The Joker, in his own words. I love this clip so much. I think it's quite poignant, and I simply adore hearing and watching him talk.

Before Heath Ledger died, people were already geeking out about his work in this film. This was a side of Heath Ledger that no one had EVER seen. You can say that about all of his work (and I love that), but this was a doozy. The first non-teaser trailer set the internet (and myself) ablaze with anticipation. Check it:

I still have the urge to squeal with cinematic glee when I watch that. And I STILL get chills when Heath growls, “Come on, hit me!“ Soon after (god, so soon…too soon), he died, and expectations skyrocketed. His death shook pop culture to its core. The Dark Knight would now be, officially and unequivocally, the biggest movie event ever in the history of cinema. It was a phenomenon long before it was released, and now, 7 months later, phenomenon is too weak of a word to describe it. Honestly, I don’t know how things would be if Heath Ledger hadn’t died. I think about it a lot, even though I hate doing it. Would the movie still be as big? Not quite, I don’t think. Would he still have cleaned up during awards season, won the Oscar and, in fact, been the surest thing the Oscars have ever seen? I have to believe that the reaction to his work in this film would have been exactly the same. I have to believe in the raw purity and brilliance of his performance. He deserved the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. I don’t understand how anyone can say otherwise. It’s insanity. If you disagree, bring it. I’m ready for you. There were some stunning performances this year, and I’m not going to pit Heath Ledger against the Best Actor contenders. It’s just not fair or productive. But in the broader scheme, in terms of impact on pop culture and cinema, 2008 belongs to Heath Ledger. He took us by storm, and oh, what a ride.

This is so hard for me to write. If you want to get an idea of how hard, please read the tribute I wrote to Heath Ledger a year ago. I have wrestled for seven long months with how I would write about his performance in The Dark Knight. I’m not ready to do it. To wrap it up. To close it. I’m actually about to cry right now, but I have to keep going. Ledger is the most primal of forces in this film. I’m a HUGE fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the TV show), and in one season (fittingly, the last), Buffy must grapple with The First. The first what, you ask? The first EVIL ever, dating back to the beginning of time. THAT is Heath Ledger as The Joker. There is no good in this character. He is only evil and darkness. What guts Heath had to take it so far (sorry, calling him “Ledger” feels cold and weird). I’m so inadequate as a writer to describe his revolutionary work in The Dark Knight. This isn’t just faux-modesty; I really am. I can type and type until my fingers fall off, and I still wouldn’t come close to capturing his genius. And that’s what I fear I’m in danger of doing - typing forever. The best way to appreciate Heath Ledger as The Joker is to watch him as The Joker. Here are two clips that give you the glorious idea (I don’t want to give away too much for anyone who might not have seen it, otherwise I would TOTALLY be including a clip of the hospital scene, as well). The quality of these videos is not worthy of Heath’s talent, but it was unbelievably difficult to find embeddable clips from this film. Anyway, please watch them. They speak volumes. Plus, they’re two of the best acted and most intense scenes of this year or any other.

(Update, July 15, 2010: Since I posted this, these specific videos have been removed or disabled. I couldn't find an embeddable version of the first clip, so click here to watch it. The second clip can't be watched embedded, but if you click on it, it'll take you to YouTube to watch it. Do it!)

This is the kind of method power that would make even Marlon Brando stand up and cheer….or curl up on the floor and weep…or both. This is unparalleled acting. The depths he plumbs, the heights he climbs, from one moment to the next…it gives me goosebumps. Heath Ledger is unquestionably one of the greatest actors of this or any generation, but the potential he shows here makes my heart shatter. In my tribute, based on only the trailer, I said that he was acting out of every pore. It’s more than that; he’s acting out of every atom. Just look at these next two pictures and you can see it. From the core of his soul to the top of his head to the ends of his crazed hair follicles to the tips of his fingers and toes…he IS The Joker.

The facial tics, the vocal inflections, his piercing eyes, the erratic mood swings plastered on his face along with the sloppy, devil-may-care make-up, the total disregard for sanity or goodness in every word and in every gesture, and the dazzling myriad of other things that comprise his acting IN ANY GIVEN SCENE, IN ANY SHOT…tell me he doesn’t deserve the Oscar. Go on. TELL ME. Sentimental, shmentimental! He EARNED that Oscar. Come on, hit me. I dare you. Ahem… Anyway, even though my heart continues to break for him, it also soars because I am so immensely proud of him. And that’s what I want to cling to - my overwhelming awe and pride, not my sorrow.

Heath Ledger still has one film coming out (hopefully), Terry Gilliam’s The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, but he died before shooting was finished. The Dark Knight, then, is essentially Heath’s last role. I’m not dismissing his work in Dr. Parnassus AT ALL, so don’t mince words with me. You know what I mean. It’s unspeakably tragic that he died, but if he had to go, man…what a way to go out. To say that this is one of the greatest performances of all time (not just in cinema) is like saying that William Shakespeare kind of liked to write or that the Harry Potter franchise is a little popular or that people sort of need oxygen to live; it’s a gross understatement the likes of which my hyperbolically-inclined mind can’t even begin to fathom. His Joker is the stuff legends are made of, and even if his mortal light was extinguished painfully early, his star will continue to burn brightly as long as people watch movies (so, forever). He is a supernova, and he will be with us always. He is in my heart every second of every day. I’m sorry he wasn’t around to bask in the praise and accolades he so richly deserves. Somewhere, I know he’s been watching, and he is humbled and grateful. I imagine him looking down shyly, a small, sheepish, stunning grin on that gorgeous face. He might even jest, “Why so serious?” Because we miss you, Heath. I miss you and love you so much and can never thank you enough for enriching my life, the lives of so many others, and cinema. Alas, this has been my attempt. I did the best I could, and while I can’t ask for more than that, nothing will ever be enough to thank him. Even so, I want to say the words: Thank you, good sir. Thank you. And congratulations.

Oh, and you didn't think I'd leave this clip out, did you?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jrt2xoy5UHo

Heath, what would we do without you? I hate that we’ve had to find out. Why so serious? Because you…complete us. And like The Joker says to Batman, so I say to Heath Ledger: “You’ve changed things…forever.”

So, in honor of Heath Ledger, his little angel Matilda, who I know still feels his love every single day and who will be so proud of her daddy once she‘s old enough to understand, and this beautiful monster of a film called The Dark Knight, let’s put a smile on that face. Cheesy? Maybe. But how could I end this any other way?

The Dark Knight: ***** (out of 5)
Heath Ledger: Priceless

Ocular Misadventures

2009-03-02T07:09:00.009-06:00

I've been looking for this clip online for SO long. Finding it was something that I desperately needed on this cold and lonely Monday morning in Chicago.

Check out the clip here.

That...is...perfect. Thank you, Family Guy.

P.S. "That's pie."

Year of the Ram

2009-02-24T22:12:00.014-06:00

I don’t know why everyone is so surprised that Darren Aronofsky was able to make a subdued character study like The Wrestler. Is this so different from Requiem for a Dream? Not really. Think about it. They’re both about people, their addictions, loss, pain, regret, and loneliness. Okay, so his films are kind of depressing, but give me depressing, aesthetically innovative, and emotionally engaging over happy-go-lucky, artistically bankrupt, and forgettably vapid any day. If you have any semblance of a heart whatsoever, The Wrestler will break it. It will make you sad. This is a tough film. But it will also make you cheer: for the spirit of Randy “The Ram,” for Mickey Rourke’s glorious victory, and for the beauty of filmmaking at its finest. The Wrestler is a film that is not easy to shake. It’s easily one of the year’s very best.

I came away from The Wrestler with a huge amount of respect and appreciation for professional wrestling. Aronofsky is so meticulous in his recreation of this world. The details are painstaking and fascinating. In fact, I’m not sure there IS another sports-based film that honors its subject so well. There is so much skill and planning involved, and the wrestlers are so dedicated to the sport and to each other. I was incredibly moved by the overwhelming sense of camaraderie that Aronofsky captures in the wrestling community.

The Wrestler is the ultimate underdog film: it immortalizes the comeback of fallen and, arguably. past-his-prime actor Mickey Rourke playing (BEING) the comeback of fallen and past-his-prime wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson. I can’t think of another role that is so inspiringly autobiographical, or if one exists at all. Randy works weekdays at a grocery store and weekends in the ring. Even though he is still wrestling, and the other wrestlers respect and admire him tremendously, it’s clear that his time has past. 20 years ago, he was on top of the wrestling world. Now, he does shows, but he also appears at fluorescent-soaked, echo-y community centers for autograph signing sessions with a bunch of busted old-timers in which barely any fans attend (but those that do adore him - see why this film is so interesting?). He takes all the wrestling work he can, and while he still has skills, I wonder if he’s being included in these events partly out of pity.

Randy gets the chance of a lifetime when he is offered to headline a major upcoming wrestling bonanza in a re-match of his career-defining defeat of his arch-nemesis, The Ayatollah. Randy enthusiastically, and gratefully, accepts, but in the meantime, after a particularly brutal match involving a staple gun, Randy has a heart attack in the dressing room and requires bypass surgery. He wakes up in the hospital to his doctor telling him that his life is essentially over. His body, ravaged by steroid use and the very real blows in the ring for so long, just can’t wrestle anymore. Hopelessly alone, Randy seeks comfort in Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), a stripper at the club he frequents, and Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), the daughter he estranged. He gives up wrestling for as long as he can, but it’s in his blood. He fights the big fight at the end. How could he not? A lot of stuff, surprising and wonderful, happens in this film; I promise I’m not giving anything away. But just in case, I’m going to refrain from doing any more plot regurgitation so that I don’t ruin the purity of the experience for you.

Darren Aronofsky confounded many people with his incomprehensible-yet-beautiful film The Fountain, including myself. But with The Wrestler, he, like Rourke, is back on top. He is truly one of the greatest filmmakers we have and, I would wager, THE most visceral. Even if you don’t understand The Fountain, you feel it. Then there’s the wrenching Requiem for a Dream, an emotional anvil of a film, and one of the greatest masterpieces in cinematic history. God, I love this man. He brings such a visual vibrancy to this story. His style is bold and distinct, he constantly takes risks, and he never compromises his startling and unique vision. He uses the camera as a character to create a sense of claustrophobic isolation. There’s this authentic, documentary-style aura about the film that transcends aesthetics. You are an active part of this world. The aesthetics, though, are astounding: the gritty and gripping cinematography by Maryse Alberti, the powerfully naturalistic and humanistic writing by Robert Siegel, the intricate and essential sound design (Aronofsky utilizes sound as well as Paul Thomas Anderson), and the soul-piercing melancholia of Clint Mansell’s score…when you factor in the acting…it all adds up to perfection.

So, let’s talk acting. WOW. Evan Rachel Wood is intensely moving as Randy’s daughter. She is one of the most gifted young actresses out there. Marisa Tomei should have won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. She is divine. Her performance is so brave. She’s an aging actress in Hollywood portraying an aging stripper that no one desires anymore. Talk about tough. This is one of the best women’s roles I’ve seen in years. Cassidy is such a strong, compassionate character, and the fearless way Tomei throws herself into this part is mind-boggling. She has to do all of these scenes nude or mostly nude (and she looks fabulous), playing a woman who is being rejected and humiliated by scum whose money she needs. That is some SERIOUS stuff. Women today are under more pressure than ever to maintain a certain (unrealistic) body image, and I admire Marisa Tomei more than I can express for doing such a beautiful job, for the confidence and class she exudes, and for exposing much more than just her body.

Mickey Rourke. What can I say that could possibly be adequate? He’s officially back, and he IS this film. He is its throbbing, beating, bleeding heart. I could see his soul in that weary face. Like Tomei, he is brave and totally fearless. He is utterly unflinching in his commitment to this role. He’s so many different superlatives that there’s no point in me just rattling them off. They’re not good enough, even if they’re all true. The only word that I hope can come close to describing his work is “heroic.” It’s rare to care this much about a character…or an actor. Rourke IS “The Ram.” He’s so astonishingly real that I often felt physically uncomfortable, like I had to turn away from the excruciating loneliness and humiliation that he personifies so relentlessly. Mickey Rourke is primal; he almost looks like an animal. He's got this sexual aura, this rawness, that actually unnerved me at times. He's almost off-putting in the way he looks, but then he's also just a big, adorable teddy bear that I wanted to rock in my arms. I think I kind of fell in love with Mickey Rourke while watching The Wrestler. He made me weep with the beauty and genuineness of his performance. When Rourke enters the arena at the end for the big fight, I got chills all over that were so intense, it felt like my whole body was on fire. I can pay no higher compliment than that.

I’m outraged that he didn’t win the Oscar. A great injustice has been done. Years from now, people will have forgotten all about Sean Penn in Milk, but future generations will always remember and cherish Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. Perhaps that’s his real award, and the greater one at that.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

Thunder Blunder

2009-02-21T22:15:00.006-06:00

Tropic Thunder is a movie about a group of self-congratulatory assholes MADE by a group of self-congratulatory assholes. This alleged comedy has been nearly universally lauded by critics and audiences. Everyone seems to think it’s the funniest thing since a kick to the groin (which, by the way, is akin to the maturity level of this movie’s “humor”). Merely imitating, or imitating with a bit more raunch, is NOT satire. If you’re looking for a humorous skewering of the big-budget war movie, skip Tropic Thunder. I mean, skip it anyway, but see Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse, the documentary chronicling the making of Apocalypse Now. No, in all seriousness, Tropic Thunder is not the brilliant satire that everyone seems to think it is, and which IT thinks it is, and certainly its filmmakers and cast think it is. Ugh. Let me say this loud and clear: Tropic Thunder is NOT good, and it’s NOT funny.

Honestly, this movie isn’t worth much of my time, so I’m going to rip off the critical band-aid as quickly as possible. Tropic Thunder is about the making of the making of the making of a war movie, or something like that. At any given point, it’s various levels of real for random characters. It gets old really fast. This painfully unironic macho fest (no, this is not just because I’m some man-hating feminist) is the immature mind ejaculation of writers Etan Cohen and Justin Theroux and writer/director Ben Stiller. The predominantly male cast includes: Ben Stiller (who is actually pretty good), Jack Black, Brandon T. Jackson, Robert Downey, Jr., Jay Baruchel (he‘s so annoying that I wanted to smack him), Nick Nolte (redefining “grizzled” and reprising his mug shot, though not unfunny), Danny McBride, Steve Coogan (wasted and irritating as Damien Cockburn - get it? teehee), Bill Hader (always funny), Matthew McConaughey (Ben Stiller’s character’s agent, goes by “Pecker” - oh, how droll), and Tom Cruise, who I will not say one snide word about, because he rocks this movie in surprising and unrecognizable fashion as chunky, angry, crude studio head Les Grossman.

So, it’s not all bad. I’ll make some concessions. The movie LOOKS good. It looks like it cost a lot of money, so that equals good, right? Sorry, that was snarky. It does look good. And the selection of music is pretty rocking. It was mildly funny and even very funny sporadically. Tugg Speedman (Stiller’s character) and Simple Jack? Hilarious. Tom Cruise is a RIOT. He should have gotten the Oscar nomination if anyone from this movie was to get one, and even then, no one deserved to get one. The cast is decent, some much better than others (Stiller, Cruise…um, thought there would be more…I guess Downey, Jr. and Black), but there are definitely some talented comedians here. However, they know it, and it’s obvious. I could appreciate the concept. I got where they were trying to go with it. And it did work occasionally. The experience wasn’t a totally miserable one. There were fleeting moments of brilliance (SO fleeting, though), which made me even more disappointed because I saw that it had potential. Too bad Stiller and company (I’m looking at you, RDJ) couldn’t put their egos aside for the greater good. They just think they’re really cool.

And come on, really? An Oscar nomination for Robert Downey, Jr.? Like that guy needs his head inflated any more. Yes, he’s a great actor, and yes, he’s really darn good here, but this performance is ultimately nothing. It’s not memorable or special. It’s cheap and wrings the hell out of a joke (Kirk Lazarus is SO method…how method is he? He’s so method that…you get the idea…GAG) that isn’t very funny to begin with. The whole movie feels that way. Everything is drawn out to the brink of insanity - MY insanity for having to endure it. Also, Jack Black is so randomly used in this movie as a heroin addict. I laughed at his scenes more out of disbelief than anything else. If all that wasn’t enough, the movie is too long, the pace is often agonizingly slow (like that insufferable climax), the narrative is disjointed, it’s one of the most self-indulgent things I’ve ever seen, and oh yeah, it’s NOT FUNNY.

The movie is a totally self-serving project. It left me completely unsatisfied. Tropic Thunder is impotent. Sorry, fellas.

Rating: ** (out of 5)

A Tale of Two Men

2009-02-21T14:43:00.006-06:00

Just when you thought you had seen everything about Richard M. Nixon, along comes Ron Howard with Frost/Nixon making the subject all fresh and topical and, well, brilliant. I think Frost/Nixon is THE quintessential Nixon film. I scoffed when it was nominated for Best Picture, but I humbly retract. It deserves to be nominated. It’s probably the most solid piece of throwback filmmaking of 2008. When I say that, I mean that it’s just good old-fashioned storytelling of the highest order. There’s nothing particularly fancy about it; it’s just a well-made studio product. But don’t let that fool you - Frost/Nixon is one helluva film.

The decision to focus on the interviews between recently-disgraced Richard Nixon (Frank Langella) and desperately-seeking-fame British talk show host David Frost (Michael Sheen) was a stroke of genius, both on the part of screenwriter Peter Morgan (who adapted his own stage play, which had also starred Langella and Sheen) and Ron Howard. I don’t know about the general public, or at least my generation, but I didn’t know these interviews existed before this film.

There were four televised interviews that took place in 1977 between these two psychically similar (the connection is gloriously Shakespearean) men, both with nothing and everything to lose. Richard Nixon had just resigned the Presidency after the shame of Watergate. After he received a full pardon from Gerald Ford, people were outraged. He had gotten away with it on a legal level, and on a moral level, he slickly never admitted fault. David Frost, a British talk show host who had fallen from grace in his own way (his career was floundering; he longed for his former fame in the U.S.), marveled at the ratings for Nixon’s resignation and decided that he could revive his career by doing an in-depth interview with Richard Nixon. His producer, and most everyone else, thought he was insane. What could he, a mere “performer,” do? No one took him seriously, not even his inner circle. He didn’t have the chops or the credibility to get this project going.

And yet, somehow he did, hiding his struggles beneath a trained emcee’s gleaming smile, raising the funds at any cost, using his own money, never knowing if the interviews would ever be aired and all of his efforts would be for naught. He would have been worse off than ever had these interviews failed. David Frost wanted to elicit a confession from Tricky Dick. Richard Nixon wanted to set the record straight, to remind people that more happened during his administration than Watergate, to regain the public’s acceptance and to enter political life again. These interviews with Frost were viewed by him and his camp to be nothing more than fluff, an easy opportunity to get back into the limelight. It was a chance, the last chance, for both men. That's good drama.

The Nixon in this film is unlike any other portrayal of Nixon I have ever seen. Frank Langella plays him as half god/half mortal, a smooth operator, very powerful and intelligent and charming and funny, but also as someone who is deeply bitter and full of pain, anger, regret, and guilt. I just couldn’t believe how much I liked Richard Nixon when I was watching it. I was almost cheering for him. Both men are sort of equal parts relatable and pitiable, which makes the experience so rich. You can identify with them, and I did. The parallels between the two men are striking. It seems like their livelihoods are almost inextricably linked. They’re inversely proportionate: as one rises, the other falls, and that’s the only way it can be. This is a duel to the death. And it’s so thrilling to watch! I was riveted the entire time. It’s epically engaging.

I’m not quite sure why, but Frost/Nixon reminds me a lot of one of my favorite movies ever, Howard Hawks’ fast-talking His Girl Friday (1939). I think it’s the really great balance between humor and tragedy, and the frank tone. I just love it.

Frost/Nixon is the perfect example of how a good script serves the film, the story, its characters, and its actors. Milk could have been this good, maybe, with a better script. Peter Morgan’s witty and insightful script for Frost/Nixon is nothing short of astounding. It brings you inside the minds of these men like few things I’ve ever seen. Sean Penn can only do so much work on his own, you know? With Frost/Nixon, EVERYTHING comes together, and it’s spectacular.

The acting in Frost/Nixon is universally amazing, from the supporting cast (Kevin Bacon, Sam Rockwell, Oliver Platt, an underused Rebecca Hall) to the main giants (Sheen and Langella). Michael Sheen has gotten a bum rap with this film. His fantastic performance has been so overlooked that it’s ridiculous. He makes smarminess seem genuine, and he guides his character through a remarkable arc that is always believable. His face is an ever-changing canvas of emotion and likeable humanity.

And speaking of canvases of emotion, Frank Langella is like Leonardo da Vinci, and his face the Mona Lisa. Holy crap is he good in this film! It’s unreal. His Oscar nomination was a given. I actually think, at this point, that he should take home the trophy. I have to see a couple performances still, but it’s going to be damn hard to top him. He’s in a league of his own. The turning point in the film is a killer scene in which Nixon makes a late night phone call to Frost. He’s a little drunk with a lot of candor. We know that these are Nixon’s deepest-buried feelings. Every word Langella utters of what is basically a ten minute monologue is palpable and rich. It’s one of the best acted scenes in the history of cinema. Frank Langella practically redefines nuance with this role.

There’s a moment near the end of the film, in the last interview, when Frost asks Nixon about the American people, and before he answers, there’s about twenty seconds of silence as we stare into Langella’s face in close-up….it’s like we’re looking into Nixon’s very soul. Watching his face in those moments of silence, I actually got chills. There is so much going on that we can read his subtle and skillful face like a map. Frost/Nixon made me want to bow down in awe of Frank Langella. It’s a mind-blowing performance for the ages.

Frost/Nixon: the little movie that could…and did. Outstanding.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

I dropped a Peanut M&M, and it rolled over here...

2009-02-19T19:43:00.007-06:00

I love you, Christian Bale, but this is too funny. And you, Family Guy, you complete me.

A Sunshine Valentine

2009-02-14T20:44:00.003-06:00

For as sensitive as I am, you'd think I'd be more into Valentine's Day. I'm not terribly, and yet somehow, I find myself brimming with romantic sentiment. Shrug, I say. Shrug.

I can solve a bit of the mystery, as I know I was definitely inspired by the lovely Missa's cinematically-inclined V-Day shout-out on her amazing blog. It doesn't get much more real, beautiful, or romantic than Jesse and Celine in Before Sunrise/Before Sunset.

And speaking of real, beautiful, and romantic, it just doesn't get any better than Joel and Clementine in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. This is the film that immediately popped into my head after the wheels o' love were set a-spinnin' after seeing the clip of Before Sunrise. Joel and Clementine...swoon.

Happy Valentine's Day, my lovelies.

War, Tarantino-Style

2009-02-12T10:06:00.012-06:00

We finally got our first look at Quentin Tarantino's war epic (four words I never thought I'd string together, but hey, why not?), Inglourious Basterds. It looks like so much campy fun. Saving Private Ryan, it is not, but war often gets taken too seriously in films. To me, Inglourious Basterds (the snobby speller in me cringes every time I type that title, but I sort of dig the unconventional spelling in this case) is reminiscent of Paul Verhoeven's campy, brilliant, and emotionally engaging Black Book, which I absolutely adore. I'm not sure how emotionally engaging Basterds will be, but I'm hoping it's a true return to form for the egomaniacal auteur, meaning that we will actually care about the characters doing the nutty things, unlike the vapid Death Proof. So, bring it on, I say!

Kudos to Tarantino for having the longest teaser trailer ever, clocking it at almost 1:45. The more I watch it, the more intrigued I get. I feel the cinematic adrenaline rushing through my body. To put it simply, it looks seriously badass. And oh, Brad Pitt, how do I love thee? He gets better all the time. This, for sure, is going to be the iconic performance that Coen-lite Burn After Reading should have been for him. Brad Pitt is going to end up being known as one of the greatest actors of all time by the end of his career. You'll see.

Anyway, the trailer:

You've got Eli Roth, Ryan from The Office (B.J. Novak), the only Freaks and Geeks alum yet to make it big (Samm Levine), Brad Pitt rocking a 'stache and a redneck accent (and still looking damn good, may I add) while delivering this killer monologue and OWNING the entire 1 minute and 43 seconds, Nazis, Hitler (in a hilarious trailer cameo), war, and violence galore.

I'm not sure how it will all add up, but I eagerly and glouriously await the final result. Quentin Tarantino, you basterd, you.

Grindhouse/Dollhouse

2009-02-10T12:07:00.009-06:00

I hope everyone is getting pumped up for Joss Whedon's new show, Dollhouse, starring long-time muse Eliza Dushku and premiering Friday the 13th on Fox at 8 pm central. I know I sound like a TV promo, but a new Whedon project is like nerd crack. And as Joss Whedon is a muse of MINE, I owe it to him to do my part to get the word out.

I don't want to jinx the show, but I have a bad feeling about the decision to air it on Friday night (TV wasteland) after the already-struggling Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. In fact, I'm surprised you can't already pre-order the DVD set with all of the unaired episodes.

However, I feel hopeful as I am LOVING the new grindhouse-y ad campaign. I think whoever thought it up (I'm betting Joss had a hand in it) really knows and understands the target audience. It's spot-on.

They're going with the "double bill of hot babes" angle, and it rocks. Check it out:

Brilliant. Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino would be proud (though the commercial is already better than Tarantino's Death Proof...).

Support Joss Whedon. Please watch Dollhouse. Let's give it a fighting, ass-kicking chance.

Old Car, Old Star

2009-01-26T02:07:00.016-06:00

The success of Gran Torino has left me totally angry and bewildered. Critics and audiences rarely agree so enthusiastically, but such is the curious case of Gran Torino. The Metacritic critics give it an average rating of 72 out of 100. According to Rotten Tomatoes, Gran Torino is 76% fresh. You can find it on the IMDB Top 250 at position 82. That means that viewers have ranked it as the 82nd best film of all time. Some of the films that Gran Torino is, apparently, better than: Billy Wilder's 1960 masterpiece The Apartment (#89), Stanley Kubrick's polarizing-yet-undeniably impressive Full Metal Jacket (#93), the Coens' Best Picture winner No Country for Old Men (#95), Orson Welles' trippy Touch of Evil (#94), the exquisite Life is Beautiful (#87), a little film called 2001: A Space Odyssey (#84), and, most egregious to me, Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator (#98). It's creeping up way-too-quickly, like within the next ten, on comedic milestone Some Like It Hot (#81), Singin' in the Rain (#79), Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times (#78), Metropolis (#77), All About Eve (#75), and yet another brilliant Chaplin film, City Lights (#71). What is this? Is Clint Eastwood trying to pick a fight with Charlie Chaplin?

Two weekends ago, Gran Torino went wide (couldn't it have stayed narrow?) and took in $30 million at the box office to become the number one movie in America. Last weekend, it fell to number two but still scooped up over $20 million more. This weekend pushed the total gross all the way up to $97 million! I can't believe this movie is going to pass the much-coveted $100 million mark! Gran Torino has also been named one of the best films of the year (National Board of Review). It has been nominated for awards and even won a couple (Best Original Screenplay and Best Actor - the screwy Board of Review again). I'm so grateful that the Academy shut it out, but still, all the accolades and the overwhelming public and critical love... Okay...how do I put this...

HAS THE WORLD GONE MAD?!

Seriously! What kind of topsy-turvy hell is this? Is this a cosmic joke? Am I part of an experiment, à la The Truman Show? Alas...no. This is reality. Welcome to it. And yes, the melodramatics WERE necessary.

So, just in case people don't know, Clint Eastwood actually released two films in 2008 - prestige project Changeling starring Angelina Jolie and Gran Torino. Oh, how I WISH all the hullabaloo was about Changeling, but it's not. It should be, though! Changeling is an astronomically better film and one that has been horribly passed over and forgotten. But hey, who cares about substance and pesky things like "plot" when you can see an almost 80-year-old Clint with a gun? I was surprised that he was releasing two films in the same year again, but as the two projects were unrelated (no Flags of Our Fathers/Letters from Iwo Jima here), I suspected that the SECOND one, Gran Torino, would suffer from hasty production (it did) and fade away (it didn't). I saw the trailer for Gran Torino for the first time, oddly enough, right before Changeling. It was the last trailer before the film started. I laughed heartily on the inside. It looked so absurd and, well...bad. Certainly no one would take it seriously. And putting it immediately before Changeling made it look even more ridiculous. A couple months later, Gran Torino came out of nowhere and starting getting rave reviews and awards buzz. I remained skeptical for as long as I could until my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to give it a shot. I kept my mind wide open, though my instincts proved correct.

I know I sound really livid, and don't get me wrong, I definitely am in the broader scheme of things, but the movie itself doesn't especially anger me. It's really too inconsequential to let it be that significant. What does anger me, however, is that I watched it two and a half times in preparation for this review. Anyway, here's the thin plot: Clint Eastwood is Walt Kowalski, disgruntled Korean war vet, the last white guy holding his ground in a neighborhood that has become a melting pot of Asians, Hispanics, and other random minorities that Walt doesn't like. So, Walt is old, and he's angry. And he has a 1972 Gran Torino. A Gran Torino is a car.

The movie begins with Walt at his wife's funeral. Walt scowls and growls at his ungrateful, estranged, and incredibly annoying family. Walt growls a LOT. His family wants to put him away in a home (naturally eliciting a growl from Walt) because they're afraid he'll get into trouble in the "old neighborhood." Well, yeah, seeing as how Walt has a loaded shotgun (a throwback weapon? connection to the past and his roots and such?) on hand at all times, I'd be concerned, as well. His family members are such one-dimensional monsters, though, that all they really care about is their inheritance and the eternal question: who will get the Gran Torino when the old bastard croaks? Walt is more insistently pestered by possibly the most irritating character of the year, a barely legal baby-faced priest who babbles on and on about how he was close with Walt's wife (why? isn't that odd to anyone? and does Walt seriously think that she would be cool with the vigilante stuff?) and that she made him promise to watch out for Walt after she died. Walt, of course, scoffs...until he doesn't anymore. Do you doubt that they become pals?

Right on cue, an Asian family (of Hmong origin) moves in next door to Walt. As he's insanely racist, especially toward Asians (Korea, ya know), this isn't good. The teenage lad next door that Walt will inevitably mentor is Thao, a sensitive introvert who washes dishes and gardens and doesn't do the manly things his family expects of him. His gang member cousin wants to recruit him. So, Thao is standing on the precipice of life: will he succumb to gangbanging or transcend his social status and make something of himself? Gee, I wonder.

Thao gets pressured into giving the gang a try. To prove his worthiness and his manhood to the other gang members, they give him an initiation task: steal the old man's Gran Torino. He tries, gets foiled by Clint with a gun, and flees. The gang comes to Thao's home to rough him up, and the brawl spills over onto Walt's lawn, prompting the catchphrase du jour, grunted down the barrel of a shotgun: "Get off my lawn." Because of this, the neighborhood hails Walt as a hero. He wants none of it. Thao's sister Sue drags him into their lives. Thao is forced to pay penance for his attempted robbery by working for Walt (by his maternal figures, one of several instances of Walt being conveniently guilted into doing something by Asian customs).

After an hour of excruciating build-up, Gran Torino turns into Tuesdays with Morrie. Walt and Thao (or Toad as Walt ignorantly calls him) hang out and fix things, Walt teaches him how to be a man, and they form a bond that Walt doesn't have with his own sons (I don't blame him, they're awful). In the third act (the script structure is embarrassingly visible), Walt cares enough about Sue and Thao that he wants to make sure that they can live in peace without the influence of gangs (isn't this futile? won't more keep moving in indefinitely?). This is Walt's penance, his big redemption (for being a nasty foul-mouthed SOB and killing people in Korea). Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that Walt periodically coughs throughout the movie? That's cinematic code for fatal illness. Ugh, it's so painfully obvious. If you can't see the ending coming, this is probably your first movie ever. I will concede that while the ending is wildly and messianically predictable, I was surprised by the WAY the final events went down. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. It doesn't make the movie better, just slightly less boring.

The first hour of Gran Torino is some of the worst cinema I've ever seen. I was laughing hysterically at its badness. It's basically just Eastwood growling and spewing racial slurs amidst terrible dialogue, appalling acting, and atrocious pacing. I wouldn't say it gets "good" in the second hour, it just gets less bad. It becomes tolerable and mildly amusing. I couldn't pinpoint what I was feeling until my fellow viewer likened it to watching your kid in a school play. "Oh, bless his little heart." I knew I had this dumb smile plastered on my face, as if I had been lobotomized. Clint Eastwood gives a decent performance, but it's nothing special. The National Board of Review awarded him Best Actor for this movie. That is royally fucked up. Pardon my language, but I guess Walt's constant cussing wore off on me. Eastwood claims this is the last acting he'll ever do, which is like catnip to critics and awards voters who will want to bestow what I call a "nostalgia award" upon him. He's old, he's had a long career, and he's paying homage to the badass persona he created decades ago. I would have been furious if he had gotten an Oscar nomination.

That being said, he IS a badass. I fully admit that. He's almost 80 and has his slacks hiked up, but no one is going to mess with him. I guess there's this primal part of all of us (correct me if I'm wrong) that gets an adrenaline rush from that type of machismo. It's just...cool. And I can get into it, although I do have some feminist guilt about it. Anyway, Clint does a good enough job, but the character is so pitifully developed that by the time you're supposed to care about him, you're still ten steps behind where the screenwriter wants you to be in the arc of identifying with this character, and you don't. At least, I didn't care. How can you care about a cartoon in an allegedly real world?

And then there's the racism. I have never heard the word "gook" more in my life, and I've taken two semester-long classes on Vietnam and read tons of literature and saw lots of films. There's a line that separates a character being racist from the movie as a whole being racist. Gran Torino crosses that line. The racist remarks are so putridly pervasive that it just gets obscene. Feel free to disagree, but I think Gran Torino, and by association Eastwood, come off a bit racist.

Gran Torino is so messed up. Everything is skewed; nothing happens as intended. The tone is inconsistent. Is this a shoot 'em up? Is this a Lifetime movie? Is it a redemption drama? It's kind of all of those, but also none of those. The cliché-riddled script by Nick Schenk isn't even palatable enough to qualify for remedial screenwriting; it's that awful. Bee Vang is actually really good as Thao, but all of the other acting is misery personified. Special awards go to the actors playing Walt's family (not even worth mentioning their names), Ahney Her (Sue) with her awkward over-enunciation, whiny screechiness, and memorably terrible recitation of the inherently hideous and stupid line "Booga booga booga," and the abysmal, perpetually dumb-looking, flatter than all holy hell Christopher Carley (the priest) for making Stanislavski roll over in his grave and weep with their assaults on the craft of acting. Carley is the worst, though. You shouldn't want to punch the priest.

I have a huge problem with the ending (I won't reveal, but if you've seen it and want to discuss it, I'd be happy to do so). The ending, and again this is Walt's influence on my language, pussies out. Gran Torino is exorbitantly self-indulgent, but Eastwood pushes it beyond that, and what you get is pomposity. Not digging it, Mr. Eastwood. Not digging it.

And then there's the song. Oh, the song. The theme song of Gran Torino is "Gran Torino." How creative. The song, sung by Jamie Cullum, is overall pretty lame. But the special part of its use in the film is that we are graced by the heavenly, dulcet tones of Clint Eastwood's 80-year-old voice. And if you haven't figured it out, I'm being totally sarcastic. Eastwood's singing sucks! I have spent so much time trying to come up with an apt description for his sound that someone else hasn't already said, and this is the best I've got: When he sings, Clint Eastwood sounds like a Muppet with emphysema.

Now, for your visual/aural pleasure, I've assembled three video clips to give you an idea of what his singing sounds like. I implore you to watch all of them in their entirety, as I believe it will make this experience more rewarding, and it means a lot to me, but if you really can't watch them all the way through, watch at least 30 seconds of singing, enough to get a good feel for it.

So, I hope that was informative as well as fun. It was a happy trip down memory lane for me. Hey, a good way to travel down memory lane is in a Gran Torino! Ahem. Anyway, his voice is kind of an amalgam of those three voices.

And now, prepare yourself for the real thing. Luckily, Eastwood only croaks the first verse. Break out the cotton balls and enjoy!

That pretty much says it all, doesn't it?

Clint Eastwood shot Gran Torino in 32 days. In 37 days, Alfred Hitchcock shot Psycho. Clint Eastwood is no Alfred Hitchcock.

Rating: ** (out of 5 stars)

Last Minute Predictions

2009-01-22T01:32:00.003-06:00

Okay, so it's 6 hours before the Oscar nominations are being announced, and I'm so stoked and high on a rush of adrenaline that I decided to post my predictions for the nominees. I seriously live for this time of year. I love it! I made this list really fast purposefully so that my gut feelings would guide me, and my choices would be pure and free from second-guessing. I want to be clear that these are the films/people that I believe WILL be nominated, not necessarily the ones that I personally think SHOULD be nominated. That being said, here are my predictions for the Oscar nominees in the six major categories:

Best Picture:

The Dark Knight
Milk
Revolutionary Road
Slumdog Millionaire
The Wrestler

Best Director:

Darren Aronofsky, The Wrestler
Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire
Sam Mendes, Revolutionary Road
Christopher Nolan, The Dark Knight
Gus Van Sant, Milk

Best Actor:

Leonardo DiCaprio, Revolutionary Road
Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn, Milk
Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

Best Actress:

Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
Sally Hawkins, Happy-Go-Lucky
Kristin Scott Thomas, I've Loved You So Long
Meryl Streep, Doubt
Kate Winslet, Revolutionary Road

Best Supporting Actor:

Josh Brolin, Milk
James Franco, Milk
Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
Dev Patel, Slumdog Millionaire
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt

Best Supporting Actress:

Amy Adams, Doubt
Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis, Doubt
Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler
Kate Winslet, The Reader

Ta-da! Yikes, I'm really putting myself out there. This could be disastrous, but I really hope I made some good and maybe unorthodox or unexpected calls.

Super Special Bonus Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire will receive the most nominations with 12.

Fingers crossed! I'm so excited! And a little nervous! But mostly excited!

Man, I love what I do.

Quaffable, but uh...far from transcendent.

2009-01-09T18:39:00.003-06:00

This post exists for no reason other than that I adore Family Guy and think this is one of the funniest and most random parodies I've ever seen. Hopefully it'll bring you a chuckle.

The original:

Family Guy greatness:

That makes me so happy.

Oh, and pop quiz: What's the origin of the title of this post?

Bitch Wars

2009-01-09T02:44:00.005-06:00

The end of the year spoils us, movie-wise. Even if you don't put much stock in awards season, you can't deny the quality of the Oscar bait films. It's a sweet time...a better time.

Alas, welcome to January, where cinema goes to die. And with Bride Wars, it looks like we're right on schedule. In this nauseating-looking exercise in female bitchery, Anne Hathaway, determined to erase any cred she earned with Rachel Getting Married (think Halle Berry with Catwoman and Eddie Murphy with Norbit), and Kate Hudson, who hasn't done anything worthwhile since Almost Famous over eight years ago, star as childhood best friends who have always dreamt of having their weddings at the Plaza and, of course, being the other's maid of honor. But oh no, their weddings accidentally get booked on the same day. Whatever will they do?

Since they're women, they'll have an epic catfight, naturally. As you know, we women are totally irrational and WILL shatter a lifelong friendship and turn into shrieking, backstabbing, tantrum-throwing, superficial she-beasts at the drop of a hat, especially if you mess with our weddings. We'll resort to calling each other fat, we'll dye each other's hair blue and ensure the other gets a bad orange tan, and we're willing to throw feminism and our self-respect out the window. What decade IS this? GAG.

I'm not the only one who finds this appalling, right? Worse yet, Bride Wars has a PG rating, so every little girl can aspire to being this petty and bitchy when she grows up.

I hope I speak for all women when I say:

Ladies, please, you're embarrassing us.

Guy Ritchie Killed RocknRoll

2009-01-02T21:38:00.013-06:00

I think it's safe to say that Guy Ritchie has a pretty decent following, some ardent defenders, and has received considerable, if cultish, acclaim. Can anyone tell me why? His body of work is so small and the quality in that tiny quantity is so poor that I'm left bewildered and a bit angry.

Ritchie's RocknRolla, a British crime caper, is one of the worst movies of 2008. It's atrocious. Absurdly, almost impossibly bad. Watching it was pure misery. And I paid $10 to see it! My only defense is that I was duped by this awesome-looking trailer:

See? Deceptive! Looks cool, right? It's not. There's nothing interesting, exciting, or comprehensible about RocknRolla (ugh, it's annoying to type that stupid title - I die a little on the inside each time). The plot is just awful. It's rambling, nonsensical, and dull as all bloody hell. RocknRolla is unnecessary, overcomplicated, and self-indulgent. It's a hideous waste of good actors (Gerard Butler, Jeremy Piven, and Ludacris) and an egregious waste of a great one (Tom Wilkinson).

Butler and Wilkinson are the only two things separating RocknRolla from a zero star rating. Wilkinson for his mere presence, really, but Butler is actually charming and quite funny (the only humorous aspect of this glaringly UNfunny alleged comedy, aside from its laughable wretchedness, of course - although, there isn't much laughter as it's honestly too bad to derive even that simple pleasure granted by terrible movies). Gerard Butler is like a way less interesting and talented version of Colin Farrell in In Bruges, but he's the best thing in this assault on cinema and humanity, so I'm grateful to him. He's very entertaining and, to be superficial, he's really hot. Still, there's no compensation, no relief, and no excuse. I loathe this movie.

2008 saw some serious duds in the action/thriller department, but RocknRolla really bites the bullet.

Rating: 1/2* (out of 5)

You Gotta Give 'Em Hope

2009-01-02T13:46:00.015-06:00

Milk is a disappointingly conventional biopic about a gloriously unconventional man. Harvey Milk (Sean Penn), based in San Francisco, crusaded tirelessly for gay rights and became the first openly gay public official (City Supervisor) in the late 70s. Harvey Milk is an inspiration, and his story blew me away. The film itself is uninspired. Milk could have been great, and it's a tragedy that it's not.

Milk is basically a series of vignettes highlighting different periods of Harvey's life during the 70s - numerous failed attempts to win public office, romantic relationships with men, his eventual triumph, and the shocking and tragic events that followed it. The film never flows together in any cohesive way. There's an ongoing narration by Penn (Harvey's cryptic tell-all into a microphone at his kitchen table) that appears and disappears at random. The structure of the film is so disjointed that I think it could have been disastrous without the heavyweight acting of the ensemble. Milk jumps around so much that the result, narratively, seems surface. There should have been less quantity and more quality.

Most of this is the fault of Dustin Lance Black's painfully amateurish, formulaic, and repetitious script. He was in way over his head on this project, which was his first screenplay. He will get an Oscar nomination, but he won't deserve it. The script is a mess. The subplot involving one of Harvey's two main lovers, Jack Lira (Diego Luna), is annoying and superfluous. Jack is selfish and terrible for Harvey, but Harvey just can't resist him. This storyline screams, "Look, Harvey has flaws and weaknesses!" It's a pitiful attempt to add more dimensions to the character. We don't need to be TOLD that; Sean Penn makes us feel and believe that Harvey is fully human, someone who makes mistakes and suffers from self-doubt as much as he triumphs and perseveres. He is not meant to be a messiah (although I think the film leans that way at times). There's the random introduction of some random kid in a wheelchair calling Harvey as he's about to commit suicide. Things happen too conveniently (life-summation phone calls before pivotal plot moments, one boyfriend exiting and another entering almost instantaneously, a terrible, cliché oversymbolization of opera), the film lingers too long, and it was even a bit boring here and there. It's frustrating, because Harvey Milk and all the actors who are working their method butts off deserve a better screenplay.

It's interesting to see Gus Van Sant going the mainstream, traditionally narrative route. This is a total departure from mood outings like Paranoid Park (and thankfully light years away from the atrocious Psycho remake - shudder). I'm happy that he's getting such widespread recognition. His directing is quite good, and the story is obviously coming from a very personal place. I believe he did the best job possible with the script he had, but I think he was more concerned with the message than the structure. Pity, because the message would have been stronger if the film had been stronger. Milk is a sprawling epic of sorts, and Van Sant manages to hold it all together. It's a lot to keep under control, and I admire his efforts and his passion for the project. I've certainly come a long way from despising him for desecrating Alfred Hitchcock.

None of the aesthetics of the film are particularly noteworthy. The film has a nice grainy 70s-ish look to it (cinematography by Harris Savides) and is interspersed with some stunning real footage from the past. Only Danny Elfman's brilliant score really stands out. He just keeps on proving that he's one of the best composers we've ever had, and one of the most versatile. There's an operatic, powerfully emotional, and swooningly gorgeous quality about his layered melodies. It's a knockout. And it does precisely what a score should do, which is complement the film and elevate it to another level.

I'm not sure if Milk has THE best ensemble of the year (The Dark Knight, In Bruges, and Slumdog Millionaire come to mind), but it's definitely a top contender. Diego Luna - the poor guy - does what he can to make an annoying caricature charming. Allison Pill is fantastic as tough and cool Anne, Harvey's campaign manager and the lone female in his universe. Josh Brolin is just exploding off the radar lately, and I'm thrilled for him. He's getting a lot of acclaim for his role as Dan White, Harvey's nemesis on the supervisory committee. He's great here, bringing humor, gravity, and emotional nuance to a character who could have been a stereotypical mustache-twirling baddie (if he had a mustache, that is), but his best work this year was in W. as the titular fool. Emile Hirsch impresses me more all the time. He's equal parts hilarious and intense as Cleve Jones, a wayward teen who joins Harvey's crusade.

I don't know what happened to James Franco, but somewhere between Spider-Man 3 and now, he turned into a really amazing actor (yes, I know he apparently did good work on Freaks and Geeks, but his film career has been dismal at best). His performance in Milk is so sensitive and beautiful that it makes my heart skip a beat and a few tears come to my eyes just thinking about it. He has the most heart-melting and sincere smile and such a gentle disposition that it's no wonder Harvey is so in love with him. He plays Scott Smith, who I firmly believe was Harvey's one true love and soul mate. Franco deserves a Best Supporting Actor nomination. This is his best performance to date, and I'm excited to watch him in the future. He also sort of reminds me of Heath Ledger in this film. I can't really explain it, maybe it's how he looks or just his spirit, but it's lovely.

Sean Penn is stunning as Harvey Milk. He IS Harvey Milk. It's a staggering, electrifying, profoundly touching performance. He's riveting from start to finish, whether he's giving powerful Barack Obama-style speeches or breathtakingly and exquisitely exposing Harvey's heart and soul to us. He draws us so completely into Harvey's life that script problems seem trivial compared to his awesome talent. It feels like he's speaking to only you and to the whole world at the same time, and always intimately and passionately. Honestly, I think this is the best work of Sean Penn's career. Who knew it was possible for him to get better? Well, here's the proof. He's one of this year's strongest and most deserving Oscar contenders.

With Proposition 8 still looming over us, Milk is more relevant than ever. It's a serious film about a serious issue, gay rights, that has somehow broken into the mainstream, and I think that's amazing. I'm sure his story will inspire revolutionaries of today to continue and hopefully one day finish his work. Milk has more than its share of flaws, and I can't dismiss them (I wish I could), but the acting is so transcendent, the story is so moving and inspirational, and the message of perseverance, tolerance, and hope is so potent and so essential to the advancement of society and humanity that it deserves to be seen and celebrated.

After Harvey Milk was elected City Supervisor in 1977, he asserted, "It's not my victory, it's yours and yours and yours. If a gay can win, it means there is hope that the system can work for all minorities if we fight. We've given them hope." And, after all, as Harvey says in the film, "Without hope, life's not worth living."

Rating: **** (out of 5)

Are You There, Blog? It's Me, Lisa

2008-12-16T23:56:00.007-06:00

I don't know how to start this, my 200th post on this blog and my big comeback, other than to say that I have no clue how to start it. I haven't written anything on here or at all since that Sarah Palin post on October 13th, and that was nothing more than snarky fluff. So, it's been well over four months since I've written anything substantial with any regularity. And for the majority of that time, I barely saw any movies. I never wanted to take a break from writing or film (especially not film), but it just turned out that way. The universe had me in a choke hold. So much happened during my time away that I don't even recognize myself or my life anymore, and I'm still trying to work out if that's a good thing or not.

I don't want to get all melodramatic; this isn't a pity plea. But I do feel a sense of loyalty to this blog and to my readers, and you deserve to know what's been going on to keep me from being here. So, I'm just going to rip off the band-aid and give you a list. Here goes, in no particular order: moving out of the home that I'd lived in for over twenty years for the first time and dealing with the accompanying trauma and the constant missing, moving a second time after only one month in the new place, leaving behind family, leaving behind my beautiful dog Molly (one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make), finding new homes for my sun conure Buster and my darling rats, getting new pets, life with a puppy, relationships ending and beginning, isolation from friends, futile job hunting (the hours I spent...), getting and losing two potentially awesome, though not related to my career, jobs (SO complicated), health issues, not being able to find a job ever, being jerked around in the job search, severe psychological distress, financial woes (like, being broke all the time), losing faith in myself, losing faith in my ability as a writer, feeling like I'll never make it or fulfill my dreams, reevaluating my dreams, chronic Writer's Block, feeling like a stranger in my own body, and deciding that things needed to change. See? Painless.

In a way, I feel like I've been buried alive (but barely alive), and I'm only now trying to claw my way out of the grave. But it's still a long way up. I got proactive about a month ago by hurling myself full throttle back into cinema. I saw 10 films in the first two weeks of this catch-up project, and then I saw some of those again, bringing the total of individual showings in two weeks to 15. After that, I saw some more, but it dwindled considerably. I was exhausted. I still have a list of about 10 in theaters now that I have to see, and Santa is bringing us like a dozen more films on Christmas Day, most of which look really good. And then there are all the reviews I still need to write, from mid-summer on. It's overwhelming. And I haven't been able to write worth a damn. I didn't know if I would ever be able to write again, and I wasn't sure that I should even try. It's been terrifying.

Then, I wanted to come back to the blog so badly and write anything, just to get the gears moving again, but I felt the need to write an "explanation post" first, and thus I agonized over that process. The self-imposed pressure was suffocating. I wanted it to be perfect, but nothing ever is. As I'm writing now, it feels awkward. I'm rusty, I know it. But I had to do an explanation post of some significance, so here it is. And here it will stay. I don't want to read this ever again. I want to leave all of the negativity behind and start fresh from this very moment. I just needed to get it out - not all of it, but enough to be able to move forward and be meaningful and do meaningful things again. I know emotions and catharses aren't particularly professional, but if I can't do it on the internet, where millions of people could, in theory, read my private thoughts, than where else can I do it, right?

Before I end this, let me say that I'm really, really sorry that you had to see that horrid Sarah Palin picture every time you came here for the past two months. Please forgive me.

Oh, and hey, President Barack Obama - how about them apples? :) It's nice to be proud to be an American for once. And I'm extra proud to live in Illinois! Well, except for that whole "most corrupt state in the nation" thing and the illegal shenanigans of our buffoon's ass of a governor...that's not so good. Not surprising either. But I'm still going hold my head up high as an Illinoisan. It's the Land of Lincoln, and now it's the Land of Obama. Hell to the yeah.

Anyway...I'm not where I want to be yet, but I'm eager to start the journey again. Giddy up, boys and girls.

Killer Body Barbie

2008-10-13T00:17:00.013-05:00

Kathlyn and Gay Hendricks' BRILLIANT article, "Body Politics: Sarah Palin's Body Language And Why It Should Worry You," from The Huffington Post totally made my day. It tickled me, and I hope it tickles you, too.

Since our last post, we've been asked many times to comment on Sarah Palin's mannerisms. Her Body-Talk is not as blatant as her running mate, probably because she has a background as a performer in beauty pageants and television. She has learned to conceal the smirks and clenches that play so openly across the countenance of John McCain.

In our work we call body language the Five Flags, because there are five major ways human beings react when they're not speaking the authentic truth. Twitches and jaw-clenches are examples of Flag #1, Body-Flags. To understand Sarah Palin, though, you need to understand Flags #2 and #3, Voice-Flags and Attitude-Flags. The English word 'personality' comes from two Latin words, per and sona, "through sound." The Romans knew that the personality comes through in the tone of voice and other vocal aspects.

From thirty-five years of clinical experience, we can tell you a lot about Sarah Palin's real personality and why it makes many people even more nervous that John McCain's.

Attitude-Flag #1: The Aggressive Confidence Of The Con-Person

Sarah Palin has mastered one fundamental requirement of a Republican president: she can smile and look you directly in the eye while telling an outrageous lie. At least when John McCain lies, his body screams his discomfort by putting on an eye-catching display of twitches, phony smiles and robot moves. McCain's body language is so strange that it's easily observable; he appears to be operated by a puppeteer who is a couple of triple-espressos over the line. That's a good thing, though. We'd much rather have a presidential candidate who reads like a comic book when he's lying than one who conceals those whoppers under a grin and a wink. Sarah Palin belts out her deceptions and distractions with a radiant confidence we usually only see in sociopaths and infomercial pitch-persons. The last public figure we saw who could grin and lie with that kind of sunny confidence was O.J. Simpson.

Voice-Flag #1: The Exaggerated Folksiness Of The Huckster

Our partisan colors may peek through subtly from time to time, but we do our best to be non-partisan lie-catchers. We cringed when Bill Clinton did his famous "I did not have sex..." line. We immediately looked at each other and said "uh-oh," because his body language let us know loud and clear that he did indeed have sex with "that woman." About ten minutes after Clinton's declaration, our phone started ringing from producers of talk shows wanting us to comment on Clinton's body language. They knew they'd seen something, but they couldn't figure out exactly what.

More recently, we cringed when we heard Sarah Palin start using more of those pseudo-folksy expressions such as "You betcha" and "doggone-it." She was droppin' so many g's on-stage at last week's debate that the janitorial staff may have had to work over-time pickin' 'em up, by gum. The last eight years have taught us all a sobering lesson: you don't have to be smart to be the President of the United States. However, we hope that America is smart enough to see Palin's exaggerated folksiness for what it is, a cheap trick to cozy up to us so they can sell us four more years of Bush Lite. We hope America will hear those "You betchas" and send Mc Cain/Palin a message right back: Just because you pretend to be dumb and folksy, you don't automatically get to live in the White House.

Voice-Flag #2: The Metallic Shriek Of The Fear-Monger

To emphasize certain points, Sarah Palin takes her voice up the tone scale to a metallic shriek. This tone will be familiar to many of us: it's the voice your mother employed as a last resort to get you out of bed when you were a teenager. It's designed to scare you, to rake fingernails across your inner chalkboard. She often uses this voice when she first takes the stage at a rally. It works quite well there, because it cuts like a knife and jolts any of the faithful who might be dozing to sit up in their seats. We hope Americans are not so sleepy as to vote in favor of hearing this tone of voice for four years.

Here's the bottom line: The McCain/Palin campaign strategy is based entirely on stirring up fear. It's a classic way to distract people from thinking about real issues and to cover up the lack of any real solutions. Their thinking goes like this:

• If we can get people scared that Obama might secretly be a Muslim or a terrorist, maybe we can get them not to think about the real issues.

• If we can get people scared that Rev. Wright might turn the inaugural benediction into an anti-American rant, maybe we can get them to believe America's economic problems are just something cooked up by the elite media as a way to play "Gotcha" on poor Sarah and John.

• If we can scare people into thinking Barack HUSSEIN Obama is going to put Louis Farrakhan in charge of the annual White House Easter egg hunt, maybe people won't notice that we have absolutely no solutions to the real problems they face.

Barack Obama has so far opted to run a positive campaign based on hope and thoughtful solutions. It's our fervent desire that he continue to do so, because it's about time we turned our national attention to positive possibilities. Over the past eight years we've had enough fear-mongering to last a lifetime.

(Stay tuned! In our next post we'll look at two more important bits of body language that we all need to be paying attention to during the campaign. We've noticed these flags at play in both Joe Biden and John McCain, and they spell trouble for all of us.)

I'll stay tuned indeed! Watching that vice-presidential debate...ugh. I saw all of this as clear as the Alaska sky before shooting a polar bear or a wolf. How can so many people be so blind?! Oops, gotta go - reckon that doggone polar bear over yonder is looking to rassle. You betcha. Lock and load.

Oy.

A Beautiful Man

2008-09-28T12:10:00.006-05:00

We knew he was sick, we knew he didn't have much time left, so we should have been prepared for Paul Newman's death, right?

Sigh. Wrong.

I was moving all day yesterday, so even though I was deeply upset, I really didn't have time to process the devastating news until now. And the verdict? I'm heartbroken. Paul Newman is truly one of the greatest of the greats, one of the tallest of the towering cinematic giants, and the golden boy of Hollywood's golden age. He was also a phenomenal human being. He will be missed terribly.

I didn't cry until I went to IMDB this morning and saw the tribute on the home page. That was when I first felt the sting. All my love and thoughts are with Joanne Woodward and their family.

Mr. Newman, you will always be in my heart. Not even death can dim the light in those radiant blue eyes.

She's the Cheese to His Macaroni

2008-09-08T23:37:00.004-05:00

A picture is worth a thousand words. So...enough said, right?

Happy Birthday, Preston Sturges!

2008-08-29T21:18:00.008-05:00

Today marks what would have been, and still is for those who celebrate him and his work, the 110th birthday of cinematic legend Preston Sturges.

I bring him up on this blog as often as I can (if it's even remotely possible to relate something to Sturges, I WILL make the connection, guaranteed), but for those who don't know, Preston Sturges is one of the best writers who ever lived, one of the most gifted and important writer-directors of any time or any medium, an extraordinary human being, and my hero. He occupies a very special, and sizeable, place in my heart.

Preston Sturges is a constant source of inspiration for me. Not a day goes by that I don't look to him for artistic, literary, or personal guidance. Every time I think about writing something, every time I look at a blank computer screen waiting to be filled, every time I place my fingers on the keyboard, and every time I experience the exhilaration that surges through my mind and body when the gears click and the words start flowing, he's there. He is my muse.

Happy birthday, Mr. Sturges, and thank you.

Bob Kabob

2008-08-15T16:22:00.011-05:00

This upcoming Sunday, August 17th, Comedy Central is airing a roast of Bob Saget (who's looking GOOD, by the way), everyone's favorite obsessive-compulsive, ultra-tidy, oft-hugging, speech-over-sappy-music-giving TV dad, Danny Tanner.

I am ridiculously excited about this.

Harry Potter and the 8-Month Wait

2008-08-15T09:14:00.022-05:00

I was half-paying attention to the WGN Morning News today until the words "Harry" and "Potter" caused my head to snap up from the computer. The release date of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, originally scheduled for November 21, 2008, has been moved to July 17, 2009.

Summer of 2009?! Merlin's pants!

I understand the greedy reasoning behind it, and I at least respect that they're not even trying to hide their motive ("Warner Bros., a unit of Time Warner Inc, said it had decided to make the change to bolster its release schedule for the lucrative summer moviegoing season -- a period that can account for as much as 40 percent of Hollywood's annual box office receipts"), but COME ON. They finally released a legit trailer, and it's SO tantalizing, and now we have to wait a full year from that first glimpse?! That's just cruel.

Eight months is a bloody long time.

How I'm Taking the News: A Photo-Roman in Two Parts

It's Finally Happened

2008-08-15T06:52:00.006-05:00

Oddly-named celebrity children are speaking out. First up, Rumer Willis!

"Rumer Willis was taunted by high-school bullies because of her bizarre name.

The daughter of former Hollywood couple Demi Moore and Bruce Willis hated her name, insisting she 'got screwed' by her famous parents' choice."

See, stars? There are repercussions for your bizarre whims. Gwyneth, I'm looking at you...

Sell-Out (n.): see George Lucas

2008-08-15T06:31:00.005-05:00

My favorite Metacritic blurbs this morning:

"The Clone Wars is the last nail in a coffin that has been propped up ever since George Lucas sold his creative soul in the quest for a few more pieces of gold." - James Berardinelli, ReelViews

"At what point might animators be arrested for doing work so ugly it causes aesthetic blindness in millions of younglings?" - Michael Phillips, Chicago Tribune

"The whole thing feels like a continuation of Lucas' experiments to see how much sh-- his dwindling supporters will take before finally saying "enough" and moving on to adult pursuits." - Pete Vonder Haar, Film Threat

Don't mistake this next statement as joking or affectionate:

George Lucas, you filthy, filthy whore.

Happy Birthday, Hitch!

2008-08-13T13:43:00.007-05:00

On August 13, 1899...

...the Master was born.

And cinema could never know what was about to hit it.

So, grab your binoculars, dial "M" for murder, outrun that crop duster, put on your best necktie, do whatever strikes your fancy to celebrate the life and career of Sir Alfred.

You can even take a shower...if you dare.

She's Got It, Dude

2008-08-12T20:02:00.007-05:00

I unearthed a link of this random news article from a month or so back about Jonathan Levine's film The Wackness and the on-screen sexual chemistry between Sir Ben Kingsley...and Mary-Kate Olsen. Bizarre pairing, n'est-ce pas? Well, even weirder than the mere idea of them acting opposite each other, they make out.

From the article: "He's a screen legend – heck, he's even been knighted! But Sir Ben Kingsley isn't above a little kiss-and-tell when it comes to his on-screen smooch with 22-year-old Mary-Kate Olsen in The Wackness. 'She was completely in charge,' the actor, 64, tells PEOPLE of their enthusiastic make-out scene in a telephone booth."

And weirder still...it's kind of hot.

Aww, little Michelle Tanner's all grown up and kissing knighted British actors.

Movie Moods: The Ladykillers

2008-08-12T07:08:00.005-05:00

Despite my love for the Coens, I hated The Ladykillers (2004) so much that I walked out on it with about 20 minutes left. I don't EVER do that. Alas, the movie fits my mood for the morning.

Professor G.H. Dorr (Tom Hanks): "Madam, we must have waffles! We must all have waffles forthwith!"

There's a brand-new waffle maker sitting in the kitchen, and I'm about to make me some waffles for breakfast! Mmm mmm.

In the spirit of waffles... it HAS been 4 years - I think it's about high time I gave The Ladykillers another chance.

They Shoot Pretty People, Don't They?

2008-08-11T14:05:00.013-05:00

I saw Shoot 'Em Up in theaters last year and absolutely loved it. It was a blast (no pun intended, but I'll take it). Most critics hated it. They thought it was too violent. Well, yeah, that's the point; however, it seems like they all missed it. Writer/director Michael Davis exaggerates the violence and exploits the clichés of the action genre for comic effect. It's clear that Davis loves the genre that he's mocking, so it's an affectionate homage as well as being a very intelligent, entertaining movie in its own right.

I think Shoot 'Em Up is the movie that Wanted aspired, and failed, to be. I saw Wanted, directed by Timur Bekmambetov, a long time ago (opening weekend, actually), and as I predicted then, I have mostly forgotten it. From the trailer and the ads, Wanted seemed to be in the same parody vein as Shoot 'Em Up. I mean, obviously, the massive quantities of curved bullets and the ridiculous scenarios couldn't be serious, right? Wrong. Well, mostly wrong, anyway. There were moments that were downright farcical, as well as some playful "breaking the fourth wall" stuff that I liked a lot. But ultimately, Wanted takes itself too seriously, and that's the fatal blow.

Oh, sure, Wanted is entertaining enough sporadically. The special effects are pretty cool...the first thousand times or so. Really, does everything need to be in slow-mo? It's too show-offy, and since Wanted kind of drags, maybe it's not the best course of action to prolong that feeling. And WE GET IT - the bullets curve! Learn a new trick!

The acting is enjoyable. Morgan Freeman gets to play a badass bad guy for once (whoops, spoiler? I can't remember if that's a huge secret, but trust me, it doesn't matter) and has some hilarious lines. Angelina Jolie is back in badass form herself. She's hot, sexy, aloof eye candy, but not much else, although to be fair to Jolie, who I respect a lot, her character isn't really required to be more than that.

On that note, Angelina Jolie and James McAvoy are beautiful, beautiful people. They're hot. Easy on the eyes. So, let me pause to include some gratuitous pictures:

Pretty people with guns. God bless America.

[Insert segway back to the review here.]

James McAvoy stole the show for me. I loved seeing him playing an assassin-in-training so soon after seeing him in a weepy melodrama (Atonement). His character in Wanted is Wesley, a corporate cubicle drone (the Office Space vibe is perfect because he really sells it). McAvoy brings nuance to the role and actually made me care (a little) about Wesley's conflict - should he stay at his humdrum job and be a nobody all his life, or, don't laugh, should he follow his destiny, become an assassin, and be a part of something bigger?

The fact that McAvoy made me care at all is a triumph for him as an actor, because the plot is rather stupid and unremarkable. This fraternity of assassins, which is centuries and centuries old, was started by, I guess, weavers. They take their orders from the - are you ready for it? - Loom of Fate. The Loom...of Fate. Sigh. The loom literally weaves out a name, and they kill that person. Right, I'm sure fabric is never wrong. The Loom of Fate is perhaps the lamest plot device/prop ever. Stick a curved bullet in this movie. It's done.

Pop quiz, Hot Shot: what do you get when a movie isn't smart, thrilling, or inventive enough to be a great action film, cleverly over-the-top, insightful, or committed enough to be a parody, and has no substance or story to fill in the gaps?

Answer: Wanted.

Rating: ** (out of 5)

P.S. The Loom of Fate has just produced a name for me: Danny Elfman.

How I could have neglected to mention him in this review confounds me. Danny Elfman composed the score for Wanted, which, honestly, I don't remember one bit. And I don't plan on refreshing my memory. Sorry, Danny. I wasn't really paying attention to the score because I didn't know it was him until the end credits rolled. When his name popped up, I was stunned. I guess the score's adequate for what it needs to be. Whatever, though. I highly suspect that this was a paycheck movie for him and the main actors.

That being said, I somehow found my way to the score on iTunes because I did recall a killer song over the end credits. To my surprise and considerable delight, the song, entitled "The Little Things," one of the best alt-rock tracks I've heard in years, was written and performed by...Danny Elfman! Songwriting, in the lyric-y sense, is rare for him since he gave up his music career to focus on compositional work, so I cherish this song because I know how special it is coming from him now. His voice is smooth, melodic, commanding, sexy, catchy perfection. He hasn't lost his rocker touch one bit over the years.

This song is the best part of Wanted. Download it.

Phew. I'm glad the Loom of Fate had my back on that one...

Windy City Tragedy

2008-08-09T10:33:00.004-05:00

Bernie Mac died this morning at age 50. I'm not a huge fan of his by any means, but I was struck by the news and felt compelled to write something. I respected him as a performer, I always thought he was funny, and he was a good guy (good guys wear black - right, Mr. Mac?). I feel really sad losing one of Chicago's own so abruptly, and so young. The gloomy day outside is fitting.

Bernie Mac, you're a fellow Obama supporter (sorry you won't be around to see how it plays out), a fellow White Sox fan (hell yeah!), and a fellow Chicagoan. You will be missed.

Rest in peace, Mr. Mac.

I Sold My Soul for $3.99

2008-08-08T16:30:00.004-05:00

Yes, Lady in the Water was on sale at Best Buy for $3.99, and I bought it.

Shocked and/or confused? Does reading this review make me seem like a hypocrite?

Well, I did it, I'm admitting it publicly, and that's that.

I just love Paul Giamatti THAT much, and I think he's THAT damn good in it.

Case closed

Meet Brad as Chad

2008-08-08T12:45:00.008-05:00

Here's a brief yet great introduction to Brad Pitt's character in the Coens' Burn After Reading. Oh, and after that video, there's an intro to George Clooney's character, too, if you want to watch that. While George is great with the Coens, my focus here is totally on Brad.

I predict that this is going to be an epically iconic performance. Caliber-wise, we're talking Jeff Bridges, a.k.a. The Dude. Brad Pitt's character Chad also answers to His Chadness, El Chaderino...

Ooh, I can't wait! I heart Chad already. And I really, really, really heart Brad.

Seriously?

2008-08-07T12:05:00.005-05:00

I was lazily scanning the "news" (I hardly think Desperate Housewives' James Denton not wanting more children constitutes as news, nor does the story I'm about to mention, really, but I'm fascinated by it nonetheless) articles on IMDB yesterday, and I came across this:

Blair Wants Acid Trip

6 August 2008 9:06 AM, PDT

Actress Selma Blair has confessed she wants to travel to Amsterdam and take acid - to feel better about herself.

The Hellboy star admits she is always criticising her looks, and the only thing she likes about her body is her hands.

And when filmmaker Guillermo Del Toro suggested that taking drugs would boost her confidence, she agreed.

Blair says, "You know what Guillermo thinks? That I should go to Amsterdam and take an acid trip and it would fix my head. I think he could be right you know.

"You know, I've done some things to excess but I hate pot and I've never done acid or ecstasy. But if I was in the right frame of mind, in a pleasant, creative, chilled-out space, with just the right amount delivered by an Amsterdam technician, that would be incredible."

And, asked about her plans for the future, Blair adds: "I'll be happy and say something nice about myself for a change, I'll have gone to Amsterdam, done acid, done some amazing theatre in London. Beautiful!"

Wow.

Okay, Guillermo del Toro promoting acid trips - that explains a lot.

But seriously, Selma? SERIOUSLY? I know it's legal in Amsterdam and all, but is this really something she wants to tell the whole world about? Doesn't she have a filter for this stuff? Isn't this what publicists are for?

Perhaps she should try therapy or psychoactive drugs first. But, I guess therapy is for schmoes, right? Why be that constructive? If you have the money, by all means, fly to Amsterdam on a whim to take an acid trip and possibly fry your brain even more. If she's suffering from mental illness (like her dangerously low self-esteem, desperation to share this information, and general manner of speaking seem to indicate very strongly), I really don't think the best idea is to play around with brain chemistry like that. It could potentially make her problems worse, not solve them like she believes it will.

Sheesh, when did I turn into Nancy Reagan?

Anyway, I'm really quite open-minded about life and the things people do (it's their business, after all), and I'm extremely reluctant to pass judgment, but come on, this was stupid of her. It's not something you should tell the press, and she sounds like an idiot to boot. And it's not news-worthy either.

TMI, Miss Blair. TMI.

Feminine Intuition

2008-08-05T14:47:00.010-05:00

Quite a few months back, I wrote a rather cheesed-off post about the remake of George Cukor's The Women (1939), in which I basically condemned the new movie and called it a bitch slap to the face of the original. This was perhaps a premature judgment, but come on, going off of that cloying, condescending initial poster and what I believed then was uninspired casting (or, at least, my difficulty imagining these contemporary actresses trying to fill those stylish classic shoes), can you really blame me? But, I can admit when I'm wrong, and I think I was wrong about The Women, version 2008. This is very much a foot-in-mouth moment for me. Granted, the movie could still turn out to be a complete disaster, but I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt (it's a new thing I'm trying these days).

The trailer is what converted me:

It was after viewing this the first time that I said to myself, "Hey, this actually doesn't look totally repugnant." And believe me - that, at the time, was the highest compliment that I could possibly give it.

Eva Mendes looks delicious, Annette Bening could very well do Rosalind Russell justice, and Meg Ryan already looks a hundred times better than whiny, doe-eyed, nobody-can-really-be-that-earnest Norma Shearer. I also dig the racial diversity, something that wasn't exactly peachy keen in 1939.

They've also wisely adopted a new poster. They went from this gag-inducer...

...to this fun and much more tolerable model:

So, here's to the original film, to the memory of the glorious George Cukor, to Roz and Joan (Crawford, not Fontaine), to a new generation of women, and to the possibility of some intelligent feminist satire in the seriously-lacking present day.

I'm on board now, ladies. Don't make me regret it.

My Brain Revisited

2008-08-04T13:41:00.006-05:00

I don't remember when it was exactly, but the first time I became aware of the existence of the now-playing Brideshead Revisited, a British period melodrama, I thought it was a horror film. Yes, it stars Emma Thompson and Michael Gambon, not innately scary actors in the slightest, but I didn't know they were involved then. For some reason, the name alone made my mind go there, to the horror realm.

This is somewhat disconcerting, no? Did this happen to anyone else? Or, if not, doesn't it sound like it COULD be a title for a horror film?

Validation is welcome.

Additionally, I would now like to see this film.

One Ticket to Barcelona, Please

2008-08-01T12:21:00.005-05:00

Below, you will find what is, in my opinion, one seriously scorching hot, hot, hot movie poster. Woody Allen, you devil! I like this side of you.

I strongly suspect that I will love this film. Is it really coming out on August 15th? Can it be true? I thought that was the limited U.S. release date, but IMDB doesn't list any other U.S. dates. Well, I better not have to wait long just because I don't live in New York or L.A.! *shakes fist*

Did I mention that the poster is really hot? One might even say, given the ethnicities of two of the beautiful actors on the poster, that it's muy caliente! And, with that statement, I have now filled my lameness quota for the day, thank you very much.

Ode to a Clown

2008-07-27T16:48:00.013-05:00

I apologize for my AWOL-ness lately, but I took an unintentional and, it turns out, a much-needed hiatus from blogging. Rest assured, people, I'm back now.

What better idea for my first entry in a week and a half than to post the pictures of myself Joker-ized for the midnight screening of The Dark Knight? I got really into it (how often can a lady in civilized society purposely smear lipstick all over her face?), and I was quite pleased with the results, but I admit that I'm a bit shy all of a sudden about sharing them. Considering I haven't posted very many pictures of myself on this blog, I'm a bit embarrassed that the bulk of them now consist of me looking a bit psychotic ("a bit" may be an understatement - you be the judge!). Well, it is what it is, right? I was honoring Heath Ledger, and I'm really proud that I executed it successfully.

"See, I'm not a monster...I'm just ahead of the curve." - The Joker

And Into That Dark Knight I Go...

2008-07-17T16:53:00.010-05:00

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We're tonight's entertainment!"

This will be my last pre-Dark Knight post. Wow. I never thought this day would come. To all of you seeing it tonight, or whenever, happy viewing! Live it up. There will never be a cinematic event like this ever again.

Not in the spirit just yet? Well, I ask all of you: "Why so serious?"

For the cast and crew, for this undoubtedly amazing film, and especially for Heath Ledger, let's put a smile on that face.

Some last words...

Batman: "Why do you want to kill me?"

The Joker: "I don't want to kill you. What would I do without you?"

And, when words are no longer adequate to describe your state of euphoria and sweetly agonizing anticipation...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Use lots and lots of exclamation points.

As the Joker might say, I love this job.

"And here...we...GO."

Idle Hands Are the Joker's Playground

2008-07-17T15:26:00.004-05:00

This is what happens when you're so excited out of your mind about the screening of The Dark Knight in about 8 hours that you're totally non-functional unless it's Batman-related and you literally can't do anything else with your time...

Well, it's what happens to me anyway. Besides, after posting my doctored Facebook graffiti photo, this seemed like a natural progression.

I promise to post my pictures from the screening tonight, with the look all complete and perfected (this was my first try, mind you). Maybe it's not much, but this is my loving homage to Heath Ledger.

Now, I just hope I'm not the ONLY one who looks like this. But if I am, so be it. I'll hold my creepy head high in honor of Heath.

Let's Put a Smile on That Face

2008-07-16T20:09:00.007-05:00

Thanks to the wonders of Facebook and its many, many applications...

For those who don't know, that's me. Yes, I painted Joker graffiti on myself. And it makes me smile.

Wicked awesome.

Going Batty

2008-07-16T08:59:00.004-05:00

Gone batty is more like it. I'm totally and completely GONE. I can't believe I'm going to see The Dark Knight tomorrow. It's going to be the experience of a lifetime. And finally getting to witness Heath Ledger's Joker, after waiting for so long and mourning his death... Wow. It's surreal. I'm still mourning, and this will rip open the wounds and make them fresh again, of course, but I plan on celebrating him, his life, and his career in the moment tomorrow night. Sure, I'll cry. I might be the only person doing so, or maybe not. I could very well bawl my eyes out. But I promise that the tears will be mainly those of joy and awe at his achievement, with obviously some melancholy and pain thrown into the mix (I'm only human). I'll deal with my sadness at another time; tomorrow, I plan on savoring the film, having a hell of a great time, cherishing Heath Ledger's tour de force performance, and cheering him on...all the while imagining him somewhere, watching and smiling.

In the meantime, check out this amazing compilation of all the TV spots and trailers for The Dark Knight. It's orgasmically good.

Hello, WALL-E!

2008-07-15T17:27:00.009-05:00

I'm not sure if Pixar is even trying to make films for kids anymore, and I love them for that (as a non-child). They're definitely still advertising for kids, though, because I was totally blindsided by the scope, beauty, and social resonance of WALL-E. The commercials made it seem kind of goofy, like all WALL-E did was run into things in a cute fashion. While he does run into a lot of things, and very cutely at that, the clumsiness is only one facet of WALL-E's personality. Ironically, a robot who communicates mainly with noises is more three-dimensional than most humans in films today. In that same vein, WALL-E is much, much better than most films released today, animated or otherwise. I don't think of WALL-E as an animated film, or a kids' one - I just think of it as a film, a true piece of art. And that's maybe the highest compliment I can give it.

Watching WALL-E, I felt like I was seeing a film for the first time. It's a completely transcendent experience. I've rarely been gripped by such a palpable sense of awe. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Here's the plot: It's 700 years in the future, Earth is a post-apocalyptic wasteland (with visuals worthy of something like Children of Men) unable to sustain life, the complacently clueless surviving humans are living on a huge space liner somewhere in the galaxy, turned into drooling androids by their total dependence on technology, and WALL-E has been left behind on Earth, totally alone. Well, he has a cockroach friend, and we all know the implications of that. There are plenty of Twinkies, too, and as the myth goes...well, we know that what happened to Earth was catastrophic. WALL-E's function is to compact trash and make it into tidy little boxes. Then, he stacks them and creates buildings out of the garbage. He's been there long enough to have his own metropolis. This is all WALL-E knows, what's he been programmed to do. But somewhere during the course of those 700 years, WALL-E developed a personality and a desire to want more from his existence. While compacting, he picks out the items he likes and hordes them, very much like Ariel from The Little Mermaid. "Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?" Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

So, one day WALL-E is dutifully going about his work, which is lorded over by the ghosts of a mega-company called Buy N Large (stores, billboards, talking ads loom over the city), and a spaceship lands, leaving behind a robot. This robot looks fancy (WALL-E is falling apart), exhibits some aggressive tendencies, and is focused on her (yes, her) objective - scanning Earth for vegetation to see if it's okay to repopulate. Her name is EVE, and the survival of mankind hinges on her discoveries. Pretty brilliant, huh?

WALL-E falls instantly in love with EVE, and she kind of likes him, too. Well, it turns out that WALL-E did find a tiny plant, and when he shows it to EVE in his efforts to impress her with his loot, she scans it, gets the green affirmative symbol, puts the precious proof of life inside of her, and locks down. WALL-E is crushed and continues to care for EVE even though she's turned off (literally) and can't respond. It's incredibly romantic. Soon, EVE's ship comes back to reclaim her, and WALL-E, smitten, tags along on the outside of the craft. They then end up at the Axiom, the luxury liner in outer space housing the humans. The rest of the film follows the fate of that one plant, and ultimately the fate of humanity. That's heavy stuff for ANY film, but even more impressive because it's in this one.

I can't imagine how kids have reacted to WALL-E. Even I couldn't wrap my mind around all of the things that the film was saying. I continue to vigorously ponder its messages. I've seen it twice, and I know there's still more untapped brilliance waiting to be found on subsequent viewings. All I can say is that I think they'll appreciate it when they get older; for now, they're just happy with the slapstick and the adorable merchandise (and WALL-E is a total cutie pie). Speaking of the slapstick in the film, it's on par with anything Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, or Harold Lloyd ever did. I've heard that after seeing Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Chaplin bestowed a standing ovation upon it. He would for WALL-E, too, and it would be even longer and more exuberant. WALL-E contains some of the most intricately choreographed and marvelous physical comedy I've ever seen (Pixar also plays around with it quite a bit in the fantastic magic-themed short preceding WALL-E, Presto). The film contains very little dialogue (Jeff Garlin as the ship's captain and Sigourney Weaver as the voice of the ship's computer get the most to say, and do a great job at it - the rest of the communication is in "robot speak", which I'll explain later), but there's always something going on that no doubt had to be elaborately described in the script, which is why I think this would be the ideal screenplay for film students just starting out and making silents (as I did at Columbia) to study.

WALL-E is a masterful specimen of filmmaking. Technically, it's flawless. The animation is staggering, as you would expect, but don't take it for granted. The visuals are the perfect blend of tasty and nutritious. I felt like I was devouring the screen. The score by Thomas Newman is simultaneously grave and gorgeous and sure to be nominated for an Oscar (if Ratatouille got a nomination for a totally forgettable score, WALL-E is definitely worthy of a nomination and should, justice provided, get one, the latter depending on what other scores pop up as the year goes along, of course). I am, however, POSITIVE that Peter Gabriel's hauntingly catchy tune o'er the end credits, "Down to Earth," will be nominated for Best Original Song. The script by Andrew Stanton and Pete Docter, like I already mentioned, is a triumph. Stanton also directs, proving that he is Pixar's resident genius (sorry, Brad Bird), the force to be reckoned with around the studio. He confidently conducts WALL-E like a symphony.

The robotic voice work is stunning. WALL-E and EVE only communicate by saying their names, making sounds, or repeating a few choice words. Yet, more is expressed with the simplest "EVE" or "WALL-E" in this film than with the most articulate, long-winded soliloquy. Ben Burtt is the sound design maestro responsible for WALL-E (and other characters, including the spunky cleaning bot M-O). Elissa Knight, an actual human, provided the voice for EVE, but it was digitized by Burtt. WALL-E is the result of no human voice whatsoever - only noises mind-blowingly created and mixed together by Burtt. It's unbelievable how much emotion is packed into WALL-E's voice. If WALL-E doesn't get some kind of sound Oscar or recognition for Burtt (through the techie Oscars, at least), then I'll have beef with the Academy...and we all know that's unusual for me.

WALL-E is truly one of the most endearing and complex characters ever created. I adore his dedication and loyalty (to EVE and to his work), indomitable spirit, selflessness, hopefulness, belief in the power of love, and even his anxiety and neuroses. His relationship with EVE is exquisite. WALL-E is seriously one of the most romantic films ever made. One particularly breathtaking scene involves WALL-E, EVE, the stars, and a fire extinguisher. It's a lover's ballet. I was rooting for these two robots to get together more than I do for most live action pairs. And it didn't seem the least bit silly, not even when WALL-E's sole romantic inspiration, his only basis for love, is a worn-out VHS of Hello, Dolly! that teaches him how to court, dance, kiss, and hold hands (the most important gesture of affection and devotion for WALL-E).

Without telling you what happens, WALL-E is perhaps the single most subtle, beautiful, and effective cautionary tale about humanity's greed, over-consumption, all-encompassing reliance on technology, lack of interpersonal connections, and disregard for the environment and Earth, all of which allows them to continue their mindless self-destruction. Does that sound harsh? The sad part is that it's not inaccurate. I'm a cynic (frankly, any American not after 8 years of Dubya deserves a Nobel Peace Prize or something), and WALL-E gave me hope that things could change, but not without shaking my soul first. WALL-E is quite a dark film, but it's disguised so well that you might not even realize it until it's over. I was enthralled from the first second, but even then, it managed to sneak up on me and hit me hard.

I've heard people say that all of the humans on Earth were saved and are now living on the Axiom liner. I don't know when the last time you counted was, but last time I checked, we were hovering around six billion people on the planet. There are not six billion people on that ship. Not even close. Most of humanity is extinct. And of the people on the ship, most are white (not sure if that was intentional, but it probably was). They're also all really fat due to the comforts of technology (space gravity is an issue, as well - bone loss and what not), and they don't know how to function or interact without it. The passengers float around (literally) in a totally clueless, comatose state. It's very pod people-esque, as evidenced by the captain's proclamation after snapping out of it: "I don't want to survive! I want to live!" I think the sheep-like, sedated state of the people on the ship means two things: 1) humankind needs to cool it with the technology, escape its clutches, and learn to live without it, and 2) the remaining government wants the people rendered helpless so they don't ask questions. That's scary in its feasibility.

So, since we see that cockroaches and Twinkies are still around, we know that there was some huge nuclear crisis that caused destruction of the planet as well as a holocaust. Whether this happened before or after the rampant pollution, I'm not sure, nor does it matter. Earth is completely covered in garbage. In fact, since there's no room for it on Earth anymore (despite the compacting efforts of WALL-E and his colleagues), trash is being projected ("disposed of") into space. The general climate of the film also leads me to believe that global warming eventually lived up to the hype. Apparently, a lot happened, and it was all our fault. I'm not being facetious either. Earth didn't destroy itself - we did. WALL-E deals with these issues deeply, sensitively, and movingly without reducing the severity of its moral and social messages one bit. And despite all of the horrible stuff that happens to humanity in the film, the real beauty of WALL-E is that it's not nihilistic. How refreshing and remarkable.

There have been rumors about WALL-E getting a Best Picture nod, and I wouldn't be surprised. It deserves it. I'm not sure what'll happen if it ends up getting nominated for Best Picture AND Best Animated Film (I mean, whether it'll split the votes and tragically get nothing), but I'd like to at least see. Here's my predictions for WALL-E's Oscar nominations: Best Picture, Best Sound Design, Best Animated Film, Best Score, Best Original Song, Best Screenplay. We'll see how right or wrong I am in about six months.

I have never liked 2001. Yeah, yeah, I know. Cue the throwing of the rotten fruit and vegetables. I just think it's boring as all heck. BUT, I respect it tremendously. It's the benchmark that started science fiction as we know it now. I would even call it the quintessential science fiction film. WALL-E is also worthy of that title. It's just as significant historically, socially, and cinematically, but I find it fascinating and enchanting as a story to boot. WALL-E displays as much reverence toward the beauty and bigger-than-us quality of outer space and life as 2001, and it's truly as powerful, profound, and philosophical as 2001, or any other science fiction film for that matter (I recently compared Danny Boyle's Sunshine to 2001 in its awe-inspiring nature, divine visuals, and poignancy, and I stand by it). That's darn good company to keep.

WALL-E moved me so deeply and stole my heart. It made me laugh, it made me think, and it made me cry. As generic as those last statements of mine might be, I promise WALL-E is anything but.

In the increasingly impressive Pixar pantheon, WALL-E is the best. It's also the second best film I've seen in 2008 so far.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

Random Dark Knight-Ness

2008-07-15T07:42:00.005-05:00

So, here's a screenshot of my own countdown clock. Yes, I am a nerd, but come on, all the numbers line up, it's fun! What's even more fun is that there's now less time than that, and the wait is only getting shorter as we colloquially speak. Hey, I'm just doing what I can to ease the sweet pain of anticipation.

Smile...You've Been Jokerized!

2008-07-15T07:35:00.010-05:00

Remember these links to the official websites for The Dark Knight that I posted awhile back? Well, I hope you checked them out then, because they've officially been Jokerized in preparation for the film's release. Too cool, man, too cool. This advertising campaign is so inspired that it almost makes me want to jump professions.

Doesn't it all just put a smile on your face?

Let's Pretend This Never Happened

2008-07-08T08:42:00.010-05:00

*The following review may or may not have happened. Read it and see what happens. Is something happening yet? Well, what did you expect to happen, really?*

Sigh. Can you guess what movie I'm reviewing? That's right: M. Night Shyamalan's The Happening! I know, I know... In all fairness, I admitted in my review of Lady in the Water that I couldn't promise to stay away from The Happening, though. I need to be "in the know," what can I say other than that? I also mentioned in my Lady in the Water review that I loved James Newton Howard's way-too-good-for-the-material-or-filmmaker score and that I was considering buying it. Well, I did buy it, and I'm thrilled because it's so exquisite. Anyway, I was on iTunes and decided to check out and sample Howard's score for The Happening. One track title stood out: "You Eyin' My Lemon Drink?" Really? REALLY? Hmm. This didn't bode well for The Happening. Still, I kept my mind open, as always.

And, well, I never thought I would say this, but...

The Happening is worse than Lady in the Water.

Process that sentence. Absorb its impact. The Happening just so happens to be worse than Lady in the Water. Way worse. And if you're curious, yes, I plan to use some variation of the word "happen" in this review a lot, à la Mr. Shyamalan in his dreadful screenplay. We get it already! We KNOW what the title of the movie is - it's not clever to simply repeat it over and over.

The Happening is one of the worst movies ever made, and surely the death knell of Shyamalan's career. How did this...HAPPEN? Let's examine some dialogue, shall we? As we happen down this treacherous path, I'll intersperse my snarky commentary. (Oh, by the way, this review will contain spoilers. But, really, how can you spoil a movie that spoils itself with its lousiness or that is just one big, appalling spoiler in the truest sense of the word? Also, the quote origin won't be revealed unless it comes from a major character.)

Alma (Zooey Deschanel): "Can you believe how crappy people are?"

I don't remember why she said this, but trust me, it was horrifically lame when she did. Who calls people "crappy"? Certainly there must be a better adjective available. Everyone's dying, and she lashes out with that? Me-ow. Stay away from that kitty until she retracts her claws.

Train Conductor: "The train service has been discontinued. This will be the last stop for all passengers."

Elliot Moore (Mark Wahlberg): "Hey, what do you mean? Where are we?"

Train Conductor: "Filbert, Pennsylvania."

Elliot Moore: "Filbert? Does anybody know where that is? Why are you giving me one useless piece of information at a time? What's going on? Hey, why would you just stop? You can't just leave us here!"

Train Conductor: "Sir, we lost contact."

Elliot Moore: "With whom?"

Train Conductor: "Everyone."

I tore this scene apart in another post. It's so wrong on so many levels. First, Wahlberg's character is ridiculously belligerent. What's with the barrage of questions? I mean, concern is one thing, but harassment is another. Bad acting doesn't help either. "Filbert? Does anybody know where that is?" Well, yeah, apparently, that's why the train stopped there. Also, I bet the residents of Filbert would be highly offended. Elliot's not running for mayor anytime soon, I guess. "Why are you giving me one useless piece of information at a time?" To clarify, this is the first time the two have spoken. One useless piece of information at a time? The implication in Elliot's question is that the conductor is hurling words at him, chock full of facts, at a rapid rate. The conductor couldn't be more calm, and he only said ONE thing.

"What's going on? Hey, why would you just stop? You can't just leave us here." He continues to get more aggressive. Actually, it's more whiny, like a baby with anger issues (ah, it must be an autobiographical character). The use of "just" two sentences in a row is just bad writing (ha...my "just" is justified, though). The nearly-comatose conductor responds: "Sir, we lost contact." Elliot: "WITH WHOM?" AHH! That phrasing bothers me to no end. It's a dealbreaker. Yes, it might be grammatically correct, but it doesn't sound right. People don't talk like that. And while he's screeching it, Wahlberg looks like he was the victim of bad Botox. If he's not careful, his face will freeze like that. My face was certainly frozen at the movie - in horror...and not in the way Shyamalan desired that reaction.

Elliot Moore: "You're not interested in what happened to the bees?"

[Jake shakes his head]

Elliot Moore: "You should be more interested in science, Jake. You know why? Because your face is perfect. The problem is, your face is perfect at 15. Now if you were interested in science, you would know facts like the human nose and ears grow a fraction of an inch each year. So a perfect balance of features now might not look so perfect five years from now, and might look down right whack ten years from now."

[students laugh]

Elliot Moore: "Come on, buddy. Take an interest in science. What could be the reason bees have vanished?"

Jake: [after a long pause] "An act of nature, and we'll never fully understand it."

Elliot Moore: "Nice answer, Jake. He's right. Science will come up with some reason to put in the books, but in the end it'll be just a theory. I mean, we will fail to acknowledge that there are forces at work beyond our understanding. To be a scientist, you must have a respectful awe for the laws of nature."

[Jake raises his hand]

Elliot Moore: "Jake?"

Jake: "How much does the human nose grow each year?"

Elliot Moore: "It's miniscule, buddy. Okay? Don't worry about it. You're going to be a heartthrob your whole life. I was just messing with you."

Again, so much wrong, so many levels. This is an exchange between high school science teacher Elliot and one of his students. At least he'd stopped calling them "honeybees" by this point. Elliot's majorly homoerotic rationale for why Jake should be more interested in science is horrifying. I don't think teachers are allowed to talk like that to students. Two words: child molester. "To be a scientist, you must have a respectful awe for the laws of nature"? Isn't "respect" a part of "awe"? It's not a necessary modifier, but such is the awkward screenwriting of M. Night Shyamalan, a man who has apparently never heard people talk in real life. But the more important part - Jake will be a heartthrob the rest of his life. Like, say, until he's 18, Elliot? CREEPY. "Hello, School Board?"

To continue with the quotes, I need to briefly explain the plot, and ruin it by telling you what...happens. Elliot (Wahlberg), a high school science teacher, is married to Alma (Deschanel), but their marriage is strained. She's cheating on him (sort of) with a guy named Joey (Shyamalan in his, thankfully, only cameo, and he's just heard through the phone for one line). An event happens in Central Park, New York City. Here's the secret: the plants are conspiring to kill us. We've been mistreating them, and boy, are they mad. They're releasing a toxin that causes people to commit suicide with whatever implement happens to be handy at the time. Word gets around, causing people to evacuate, but wherever they go (in the realm of the northeast, at least), it's still happening. Elliot, Alma, and a random sampling of Americans, including Elliot's colleague, a Math teacher named Julian (John Leguizamo) and his young daughter Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez) flee. Julian soon kills himself (a total relief - no more math problems or nasally accent), so Elliot and Alma, who stereotypically don't have kids because there are "issues," have to adopt Jess for the day. Um, what else? Suicide abounds in graphic and increasingly uninventive ways. The ending is ridiculous, but I'll deal with that later. I guess that's it. Resuming excessive quoting:

Principal: "Alright, there appears to be an event happening. Central Park was just hit by what seems to be a terrorist attack. They're not clear on the scale yet. It's some kind of airborne chemical toxin that's been released in and around the park. They said to watch for warning signs. The first stage is confused speech. The second stage is physical disorientation, loss of direction. The third stage...is fatal."

I'm not sure what I'd call this catastrophic phenomenon, but it certainly wouldn't be an event (if I happen to slip and say it in this review, it's just a matter of convenience). "Event" makes it sound like a cocktail party or a benefit. Is this event that's happening and making people kill themselves black tie? Hey, if it is, the tie can double as a fashion accessory AND a suicide tool. Awesome!

Okay, the warning signs are stupid. Confused speech is such a norm in Shyamalan's films anyway - how can anyone tell the difference? The physical disorientation and loss of direction lead to paralysis. Then, they become un-paralyzed and kill themselves. That struck me as terribly odd. It doesn't make sense to go from paralysis straight to suicidal. It's just a dumb excuse to have a bunch of people stand eerily still in the middle of a crowded public location. As I heard the stages being described, I thought, "Maybe the whole film is an experiment." You know, the speech is nonsensical, I felt disoriented, the film seemed to be paralyzed by its own ineptitude, and the result was fatal. If Shyamalan was a better filmmaker, or at least a more audacious one (like Michael Haneke, even if his efforts don't always pay off), I would believe that the whole film was an experiment, thus reflecting those stages through cinematic techniques. But, that's not the case. How do I know? Have you heard Shyamalan blather on about this movie? And besides, I just know. He's not that interesting.

Alma: "It makes you kill yourself. Just when you thought there couldn't be any more evil that can be invented."

Is evil really invented? ARG. What a horrible way to phrase it.

Weird Plant Guy: "We're packing hot dogs for the road. You know, hot dogs get a bad rep. They gotta cool shape, they got protein."

A "cool shape"?! Seriously, Shaymalan writes the worst filler dialogue. It's so unrealistic. I don't think he's had an actual conversation in years.

This next passage is from one of the worst scenes in the movie (and there were so many that you know this must be a doozy). Context: Elliot, Alma, and their group has separated from another group in a grassy field, thinking that larger clumpings of people were causing the plants to act up.

Elliot Moore: [shots are heard firing in the distance] "Oh no..."

Alma Moore: "What 'oh no'?"

Elliot Moore: "The toxin? The toxin's affecting them?"

Woman in Group: "Are those people killing themselves?!"

Realtor: "You were with the Private, what do we do?"

Alma Moore: "We need to do something!"

Elliot Moore: "Just let me think..."

Alma Moore: [as shots continually fire in the background] "They're dying!"

Elliot Moore: "I need a second..."

Realtor: "They released it? We're not near the roads!"

Alma Moore: "We can't just stand here as uninvolved observers!"

Elliot Moore: "I need a second okay? Just give me a second!"

Alma Moore: "We're not gonna be one of those assholes on the news who watches a crime happen and not do something! We're not assholes!"

Elliot Moore: "Just a second!"

Woman in Group: "There were children in that group!"

Alma Moore: "Elliot please tell us what to do!"

Elliot Moore: "I need a second okay? Why can't anybody give me a goddamn second?! [talks to himself] All right, be scientific, douchebag. Identify the... rules... design the experiment... careful observation, measurements, that's what I'm trying to do, interpret the experimental pattern, interpret... What if it IS the plants? That group was larger than ours. This thing's been escalating all day. Smaller and smaller populations have been setting this off. They react to human stimulus. Maybe people are setting off the plants?"

Alma Moore: "What are you saying? That guy was crazy! We have to save them!"

Elliot Moore: "They're already dead! What if they're targeting us as threats? This part of the field may not have been set off. Something in this field could be releasing the chemical into the air when there's too many of us together. Let's just stay ahead of the wind!"

And...scene. Riveting stuff, huh? It was agonizing for me to even read it. On the Hitchcock Suspense-o-Meter, this scene, and movie, gets a ZERO. First of all, Elliot is kind of nuts. There's reason to panic, sure, but he's practically having a panic ATTACK. Chill out, dude, they're just looking for some guidance, a position which you sort of took upon yourself, Mr. Alpha Male. His "I need a second" tantrum is pretty uncalled for and really melodramatic. How he comes to his conclusion, utilizing the steps of scientific investigation that he was conveniently teaching his students somewhere during the honeybee lecture, is irritatingly lame. He calls himself a douchebag? Who does that? Oh, and I beg to differ, Alma. You ARE assholes. What a stupid couple lines of dialogue she spews with that asshole mini-diatribe. It's just, yet again, something that doesn't sound natural in the real world or in whatever world this movie happens to be taking place in. People criticize a film like Juno for how the characters talk, but when they say it in the film, we believe it. It fits the world they inhabit. So, dialogue doesn't have to be realistic - it just has to make sense in context. It's not a lot to ask. And it doesn't make sense in The Happening, or in any of Shyamalan's recent films.

How Elliot and Alma reconcile the fact that she had freaking tiramisu with a guy ONCE:

Elliot Moore: "If we're going to die, I want you to know something. I was in the pharmacy a while ago. There was a really good-looking pharmacist behind the counter. Really good-looking. I went up and asked her where the cough syrup was. I didn't even have a cough, and I almost bought it. I'm talking about a completely superfluous bottle of cough syrup, which costs like six bucks."

Alma Moore: "Are you joking?"

[Elliot nods his head]

Alma Moore: "Thank you."

HUH? She didn't even really do anything to begin with, but it somehow causes Alma a huge amount of grief, Elliot gets unreasonably upset, and then this ties it all up in a pretty little bow? Wow, they should run a couples therapy group. What's superfluous was that passage of dialogue.

Crazy recluse lady: "Why are you eyeing my lemon drink?"

As per the track title on the score, I believe she actually said, "Why you eyin' my lemon drink?" or "You eyin' my lemon drink?" Whatever it is, it's absurd.

Julian: "Don't look outside. Stop it! Stop it! Just look at me. Just keep looking at me. Close the vents. I'm going to give you a math riddle, okay? And you're going to tell me the answer."

Panicked Woman in Car: "What?"

Julian: "How much...how much would you have if I said I would pay you a penny on the first day, and then two pennies on the second, and then four pennies on the third, and then it just kept doubling and it did this for a month. How much money would you have at the end of the month?"

Panicked Woman in Car: "Ten dollars?"

Julian: "Higher. Just keep looking at me. Just keep looking at me."

Panicked Woman in Car: "Twenty dollars?

Julian: "No. Keep going. Keep going."

Panicked Woman in Car: "Thirty. It's thirty dollars."

Julian: "I'll tell you the answer. It's over ten million dollars. You'd have over ten million dollars at the end of the month. Want to hear another one?"

NO! We don't. Math riddles?! Come on! What the hell, man? What kind of writing is this?! Yeah, math riddles are just about the worst way to distract someone from impending death ever.

Weird Plant Guy: "You know plants have the ability to target specific threats. Tobacco plants when attacked by heliothis caterpillars will send out a chemical attracting wasps to kill just those caterpillars. We don't know how plants obtain these abilities, they just evolve very rapidly."

Alma Moore: "Which species is doing it if you think it's true?"

Weird Plant Guy: "Plants have the ability to communicate with other species of plants. Trees can communicate with bushes, and bushes with grass, and everything in between."

Can they? How fascinating. That last bit of explanation from WPG was one of the most cringe-inducing moments in the entire movie, and certainly some of the worst screenwriting.

Elliot Moore: "Can this really be happening?"

Unfortunately, yes.

So, I did things a bit differently to start off this review, but now it's back to paragraphical prose. Geez, where do I go from that, though? Well, The Happening does not work at all. I'm sick of making concessions to him by saying that it's technically competent. It is. I expect most movies of this stature to be. James Newton Howard again extends himself for Shyamalan the life-draining leech by producing a score that's too good for The Happening. He manages to adapt his style to the tone of every film he does without losing his signature compositional voice. It's quite mind-blowing. The score is great, even though I barely noticed it because I was so appalled the whole time...that, or giggling uncontrollably. It's a chilling, eerie, poignant score for a movie that is none of the above. Tak Fujimoto's cinematography is consistently great and often stunning. But I feel sad for the two of them, because none of it really matters. Nothing makes this movie redeemable.

The acting is some of the worst I've ever seen in a mainstream movie. Mark Wahlberg should be stripped of his Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination for his atrocious work in The Happening. Let me see how I can put this - in terms of his competence and skill, it's like he's been catapulted back to the womb. He's totally helpless. To be fair, though, even a fetus could deliver a better performance than Wahlberg's, which truly is one of the most awful I've ever had the misfortune of witnessing. As I said before, Wahlberg looks like he's had bad Botox or something. His face is frozen in this idiotic mask of confusion throughout the entire movie, his eyebrows raised too high, wide eyes totally vacant...just the poster child for complete befuddlement. Zooey Deschanel is no better, but she's certainly not worse. Wahlberg is by FAR the worst, but Deschanel is excruciating to watch with her wispy voice, doe eyes (beautiful blue gaping voids of nothingness), and automatron-y behavior. I don't want to get into the other actors because, frankly, none of them are any good. And it's not just the material. Look at what Paul Giamatti did with Lady in the Water. An unispired project makes motivation difficult to find, but a real artist (lead, supporting, or extra) should be able to make it work. It doesn't even seem like the actors expended any effort whatsoever. In fact, I'm not sure they weren't drugged. Maybe they tried to get the hell out of Dodge, and Shyamalan had to drug them to keep them around, hence the comatose states of the leads.

There's something seriously wrong in the universe when a movie makes me think FONDLY of Lady in the Water. That's what The Happening did. I still stand by my review and my rating of LITW, but I was definitely feeling a twinge of nostalgia after I escaped the theater. I missed Paul Giamatti and his transcendent acting. It made me appreciate him even more.

Like I said (or at least distinctly alluded to), The Happening is worthless. It's not scary or suspenseful in the slightest. It doesn't function as entertainment in any capacity, and it's a pitiful cautionary tale that answers its own questions. It doesn't provoke thought or inspire change. It only tells us what we already know, in a very nihilistic way. Yes, global warming is a problem, we need to be nice to nature. Thanks for the memo, Shyamalan. There's this ridiculous news footage near the end of a professor or some other authority talking about why what happened, happened. I liken it to the psychiatrist scene at the end of Psycho, but way more out of place and even insulting to the intelligence of the audience. Oh yeah, I said I was going to discuss the ending. Well, I thought it was going to end about five different times. I briefly found religion just to pray for it to be over. It's a relatively short movie, only a little over an hour and a half, but why did I feel like I lost a year of my life in that theater? So, here's what happens (have you been keeping track of how many times I've used a form of "happen"?): Alma, Elliot, and little Jess are the only people alive. I guess the "event" took place over the course of a day, getting exponentially more harmful as time progressed. They're at the farm house of the crazy old lemon drink lady. I don't remember why, but the trio gets separated. Alma and Jess are in a shed, and he's in the house. Ah, but never fear (seriously, there's nothing to fear in this movie except for how bad it is), there's an Underground Railroad-era tube that serves as a rudimentary telephone between the structures.

So, Elliot and Alma are all lovey-dovey and weepy. If they go outside, they'll die. Then, Elliot decides that if they're going to die anyway (if they had just been patient and stayed inside, maybe they wouldn't have... worth a shot, right? PLOT HOLE!), he wants to die with her. I thought he was just going to go to their building, but I guess if he opened the door, they'd be exposed. Still, no one thought staying inside was the best option? Hello? Little girl with you, remember? Save your reconciliation for if you survive. Elliot comes outside, and Alma brings Jess with her outside to meet him in the middle of the field. They stand out there, it's windy, and then nothing happens. Fade to black. As it's fading, Elliot says, so faintly that I had to ask my companion later what the heck he said, "The event must have ended before we came out today." That's a rather important piece of information. Enunciation, louder sound on the dialogue, avoiding a long shot, perhaps not fading out to detract from it - all would have helped.

It could have ended there. However, it did not. Fast forward some months later to Philadelphia where Alma and Elliot are raising Jess. Alma finds out she's pregnant. This would be wonderful if we even remotely cared about the characters. Alma goes to greet Elliot in the street with the baby news. They embrace. NOW it must be the end, right? Wrong. At Alma and Elliot's, the TV is on, featuring the awkward news footage I mentioned earlier. Basically, the naysayer heavily suggests that this "event" was the result of the government. If it was really an enviromental problem, wouldn't it have happened in more places than just the northeast United States?

Well, sir, M. Night Shyamalan anticipated your skepticism, and he has designed a twist especially for you! After the hug in the street, cut to France. The scene exactly bookends the opening scene from Central Park, in which everyone starts talking crazily, freezing, and then killing themselves. Uh oh! It really is happening. We're all doomed. Finally, that was the end. And then I had to pick my jaw up off of the floor before exiting the theater.

Something else that really bothers me about The Happening is how Shyamalan sets up all of these plot elements early on that are supposed to be rewarding when they come back around, but instead, they make you roll your eyes and groan due to the sheer lameness of it all. It's so obvious that he's doing it, too, and that he thinks it's clever. A couple examples: the token sentimental object, a mood ring given to Alma by Elliot, which ends up being too prominent a part of the movie; Elliot giving his student a crash course in the scientific method only to be pressured into using it himself.

Also, the R-rating is the very definition of cheap. The violence is gratuitous and exploitative. It was all a shameless marketing stunt. You know what else is shamelessly offensive and presumptuous on Shyamalan's part? Naming Deschanel's character Alma. Coincidence that Alma is the name of Alfred Hitchcock's wife? I think not. What an ego.

Appeal to the studios: Please stop giving M. Night Shyamalan money until he figures out what he's doing with his career! Unfortunately, that won't...happen...because The Happening made a surprising amount of money on opening weekend, somewhere in the neighborhood of $30 million. It's disheartening, because that's enough to greenlight another project of his.

There was a pronounced sense of irony surrounding my viewing of The Happening. All the people in the movie talk gibberish, experience paralysis, and then commit suicide. Well, Shyamalan's script is gibberish, the movie felt like it was made by someone in arrested development with creative paralysis, and I felt like I was watching him commit cinematic suicide. What a twist, huh?

Ooh, hey, how about this: The Happening made me doubt M. Night Shyamalan ever had any abilities as a filmmaker at all. Now there's a major twist that I didn't see coming.

Rating: ZERO STARS

Coen Country

2008-07-07T10:37:00.002-05:00

The Coen Brothers are superheroes. I'm convinced of it. They're tragically underappreciated as filmmakers, despite the No Country for Old Men Oscar recognition (about damn time). Their versatility excites and inspires me. They can make an epi-tragedy like No Country, a poignant folk story like O, Brother Where Art Thou?, the raucous, raunchy ride that is The Big Lebowski, or a classic screwball throwback like The Hudsucker Proxy. The Coens are definitely boss. The cheese to my...eh, you get the point.

Somewhere in the midst of the brilliant creation of No Country for Old Men, the Coens concocted Burn After Reading (to be released theatrically less than a year later - SO impressive, especially given the quality of No Country and the apparent quality of BAR). Burn After Reading is definitely more in the vein of something like Lebowski (the "hell of a lot of fun" Coen sub-genre), but it looks much better (I like Lebowski but don't have a shrine erected to it). I can't WAIT. Check out the two trailers (redband and regular). By the way, I totally heart Brad Pitt.

Whee!

The Fireworks Just Don't Sparkle As Brightly Anymore...

2008-07-04T08:33:00.005-05:00

This is really for Heath Ledger, not America. They merely happen to coincide today.

I miss him...so very much.

"W" Is For "Warmonger"

2008-07-02T02:37:00.012-05:00

Oliver Stone's new film, W., stars Josh Brolin as George W. Bush and Elizabeth Banks as Laura Bush. I don't get how this is not a comedy, but it's listed as a drama on IMDB. It also runs three hours and ten minutes (typical Stone, with four director's cut sets to follow, no doubt). I'm not sure what to make of this project.

However, I saw this poster for it.

Out of the mouths of idiots, right? Well, just one big idiot in this case.

I don't know what kind of shenanigans you're up to, Oliver Stone, but I think I'm digging them.

Talk Cinema: The Parody Problem

2008-07-01T18:00:00.003-05:00

The following is a transcript of what I felt was a rather amusing conversation that I had with a long-time friend the other day via instant message. It was prompted by an admission through his Facebook status that he watched the Disaster Movie trailer out of morbid curiosity:

Me: "the disaster movie trailer?? tsk tsk"
Him: "it's like a car crash or physical deformity - you don't want to look but you're drawn to it anyway"
Me: "I understand"
Him: "god those movies are the harbingers of our societal destruction"
Me: "can I quote you on that some time?"
Him: "go for it"

And I did. I thought it was a hilarious and brilliant statement.

Him: "that's their second one this year. they 'parody' movies that aren't even fucking out yetand they make almost the exact same amount at the box office each time. I think it's the exact same assholes going to see each one."
Me: "yeah, I bet"
Me: "they're like 15"
Me: "and boys"
Him: "the remedial 15 year olds"
Me: "carmen electra's career is certainly doing well because of them"
Me: "how much do they gross?"
Him: "hey, i can't fault the talentless or struggling people in the movies, make your money where you can...the writer/director duo are the ones who need punishment"
Me: "true"
Him: "those two guys though...i'm irrationally angry about these things"
Him: "these movies don't even have jokes"
Me: "no"
Me: "what movies do they spoof that aren't out?"
Him: "pop culture has completely collapsed inward on itself like a dying star, where the mere reference to something qualifies as funny"
Him: "hancock"
Me: "ugh"
Him: "but yeah, have someone dress like will smith does in the movie, have him fly and hit his head on somthing and fall down - there's your joke"
Him: "have a cow fall on iron man...COMEDY"
Me: "lol" (not a fan of the internet acronyms, but sometimes the situation calls for it)
Him: "I wish I was making these things up"
Me: "iron man is in this one?"
Him: "yes"
Him: "and a cow falls on him"
Me: "isn't he a superhero?"
Him: "the hulk's pants fall off"
Me: "aren't they mixing their genres?"
Him: "i guess they're upset they didn't get to do superhero movie first"
Me: "is batman in it?"
Me: "so they make these shitty movies and can't even categorize them correctly?"
Him: "no, but juno fights sjp from sex in the city"
Me: "in DISASTER movie?"
Me: "what, fashion disaster?"
Him: "i think the main 'plot' is based on either day after tomorrow or cloverfield"
Him: "hence the title"
Me: "but everything else is taken from wherever they feel?"
Him: "oh yes"
Him: "like the princess from enchanted being hit by a car"
Him: "or a boulder falling on hannah montana"
Him: "COMEDY"
Me: "that isn't even the right genre!"
Me: "can't they do one thing right?"
Me: "how old are these guys?"
Him: "ooh, there's a character called McLover"
Him: "GET IT?"
Me: "sadly"
Him: "so anyway"
Him: "all you can really do is let out a long, defeated sigh and move on"
Me: "how old are they?"
Him: "dunno"
Him: "old enough to be castrated"

Indeed.

Sex and the Blockbuster

2008-07-01T12:27:00.009-05:00

As corny as this might sound, seeing Sex and the City: The Movie was like reuniting with old, cherished friends. At the first glimpses of our four girls in the opening credits recaps, time just melted away, a smile lit up my face, and a warm sensation of familiarity washed over me. Had it really been four years since the show ended? Boy, did I miss them.

The film picks up three years after the series left off. Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) and Big (Chris Noth) are still dating (of course, not married yet - typical Big - and no, I can't call him by his real name, it's too weird), Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) and Steve (David Eigenberg) are raising their son Brady in Brooklyn, Charlotte (Kristin Davis) and Harry (Evan Handler) are raising their darling adopted daughter Lily, and Samantha (Kim Cattrall), in undoubtedly her longest relationship, is living in LA, thousands of miles from her best friends in NYC, representing her beau, Smith Jerrod (Jason Lewis), in his acting career.

*Now, there will be spoilers. You've been warned.*

Carrie and Big decide, in a pretty unromantic fashion, to get married. They even find a lush apartment complete with Carrie's dream closet (first time I ever heard people gasp at a closet in a movie theater). The girls have not been keeping in touch as often, and so whenever they get back together, I almost wept with joy at their sheer euphoria. Samantha makes frequent trips to NYC. She isn't happy in LA, despite a tasty morsel of a neighbor who likes to shower outside naked and have wild sex in front of open windows (Samantha and Smith have hit a rut, so she, ever the eager voyeur, gets her thrills vicariously). The wedding plans ensue, and Carrie poses in a bunch of fab designer gowns for an issue of Vogue in which she's proving that women can still work it in their 40s. Meanwhile, Steve tells Miranda that he cheated on her. At the rehearsal dinner, Miranda makes some drunken, bitter comment to Big about how stupid he and Carrie are to go through with it. Big, ever-impressionable and flaky, lets his doubts consume him. He tries to call Carrie all the next morning, but her phone has been misplaced. Still, not the best way to tell her the news. The girls show up at the huge, lavish wedding, all decked out, and Big cowers in a limo outside. Carrie finally confronts him, and surprise, he calls it off, which leads to a really powerful, moving moment when Charlotte attacks him, viciously telling him to leave her alone.

The foursome goes to Mexico on what would have been the honeymoon. Carrie mopes, understandably, and the other three provide comfort and support and try to cheer her up. While there, Charlotte reveals that she's pregnant, which is huge because they thought she was infertile, hence the adoption. Okay, I'm going to try to wrap up the plot, because I have a lot to say about this film. Let me oversimplify: Miranda and Carrie are both holding grudges against their men (the men are groveling, Big through e-mails, lamely) and trying to figure out whether to forgive, Jennifer Hudson randomly shows up as Carrie's personal assistant and offers sage advice, Samantha gets a horny female dog that likes to hump everything in her path, Samantha's depressed because she feels like she's lost herself and overeats to compensate, she gets a little chubby, more significantly, she decides that she doesn't want her life to center around a man and declares her grand single independence (you go, girl!), Charlotte runs into Big and gets to confront him with her long-prepared "I curse the day you were born!" (it got one of the biggest laughs), her water breaks, Big takes her to the hospital, she gives birth to a baby girl that they name Rose, Carrie and Big meet up there, they get back together, she wears a frumpy, non-designer white suit-outfit to their unceremonious court wedding, and the whole gang celebrates with a reception at a diner. And I win for writing the longest sentence ever.

Before I delve into analysis, I will say that the film is really well-made. It sparkles visually, and Michael Patrick King, resident series genius, establishes a nice, sleek style and does a great job writing and directing. I'm glad they didn't hand it off to someone unrelated to the show. I think he did the best job he could.

I wish I thought this was the perfect film, but I don't. I have major issues with how it all turned out. So, I'm going to start with my negative reactions. Jennifer Hudson was pointless. It was nice that she was helping Carrie, but that's a job for Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda. They can take care of her just fine.

Okay, I'm just going to say this: I don't like how Carrie's "fairytale" ends. I don't like Big. I never got the appeal. Certainly Carrie could do better than a guy who takes her for granted, walks all over her, and treats her like crap. But, there are women who like that. I guess Carrie's a bit of a love sadist. Does that make me love or respect her any less? No. She's a real human being with real flaws. That makes her stronger to me. Still, I want more for her in the love department. Big calling off the wedding was inexcusable. Carrie taking responsibility for it by saying "I let the wedding get bigger than Big" is pathetic and just the kind of thing society would want a woman to think. It's not her fault. She should have her dream wedding if she damn well wants to, and he should be understanding and loving enough to give it to her, especially after all the grief he caused her over ten years.

And then, how Big grovels is to send her e-mails containing love poems written by other people. He didn't even find them himself; he only knew of these poems because Carrie was dreamily reading them to him one night in bed. The e-mail that seals the deal for Carrie isn't more than a couple lines. I can't remember exactly what it says, just something about him screwing up, and then, from a poem, the words, "Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours." Please. He should be writing her the most gushing love letters ever, in his OWN words. I do believe that Carrie is happy and that she loves him, so can I really fault her? Well, yes, I can, and I will. But on the other hand, I support her decisions as if she was my best friend. I mean, despite their happy exteriors, I know Charlotte, Samantha, and especially Miranda were biting their tongues. And Carrie getting married in court, not wearing a label? That's just not Carrie. I feel like she's compromising too much of herself for the dud that is Big. And if anyone tries to compare him to Cary Grant, I will personally hunt you down. But, given how the show set it up, I guess there wasn't any way she could end up with anyone else. And, as Carrie says, "It wasn't logic, it was love."

Now, on to the overwhelming positives. Even if Carrie's choices are questionable and her feminist integrity is a bit shaky, she's still a pretty amazing heroine - smart, successful, comfortable with her femininity and sexuality, and resilient. All four women are successful, self-sufficient, and strong, and I know that scares men. As for the other men in the group, Harry and Steve are great guys, so they kind of make up for Big. Steve did cheat on Miranda, but he actually has feelings and was always totally devoted to Miranda, so her forgiveness not only makes sense, we demand it.

And then there's Ms. Samantha Jones, a true pillar of feminism. I worship her. I had honestly forgotten how wonderful she is. Samantha breaks up with Smith because she refuses to let her life revolve around a man. She rightly asks, "Is a relationship saying his name fifty times more a day than my own?" Samantha is selfish, yes, but she's not ashamed of it. She loves herself more than any man, and I think that's a great message. We should all love ourselves that much. We don't need men, no matter what anyone says. Women are completely capable of being self-dependent. Samantha is an inspiration.

By the way, the acting is astounding. It's great to see Sarah Jessica Parker in a movie worthy of her talent. She hasn't lost one iota of that Carrie magic. She makes us root for Carrie with her touching, funny, and subtly beautiful performance. Kristin Davis and Cynthia Nixon are back in top form, but the real stand-out for me is Cattrall. She just rocks this movie. Every line she said brought down the house. She's such a scrumptious delight. And she still looks amazing. They all do.

Without question, though, the best part of the show is the best part of the film: the camaraderie between the four women. The film was satisfying because I got to spend two and a half hours with them again. In fact, my biggest problem with the film was that it ended. I instantly missed them again. Their friendship is so empowering. They're always there for each other. In fact, they've referred to each other as soul mates, and I agree with that assessment. You know, when it comes down to it, the men are rather incidental. It almost doesn't matter who they end up with, because the love that matters is the love that Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha share. Nothing can ever break them up. That's the real fairytale ending.

The midnight screening of Sex and the City that I attended was exhilarating. The place was swarming with women. I was practically moved to tears by the sight of women of all ethnicities (seriously, all ethnicities - it was the U.N.) and backgrounds banding together and collectively celebrating our gender and this remarkable show that itself has given us so much to celebrate and be proud of over the years. It was truly inspiring.

Sex and the City is the first female blockbuster, and as such, it deserves respect. This is such an important milestone in feminist history. I'm honored to be a part of this phenomenon. Step back, men. It's our moment. And you know what? That's just fabulous.

Rating: ****1/2 (out of 5)

Why So Serious?

2008-07-01T01:23:00.006-05:00

It's here! We have officially entered the month of July. And you know what that means...

HAPPY DARK KNIGHT MONTH!

Oh, Peter Travers, How Do I Love Thee?

2008-06-27T13:38:00.005-05:00

Peter Travers has written an early review of The Dark Knight that has set me on fire:

"Heads up: a thunderbolt is about to rip into the blanket of bland we call summer movies. The Dark Knight, director Christopher Nolan's absolute stunner of a follow-up to 2005's Batman Begins, is a potent provocation decked out as a comic-book movie. Feverish action? Check. Dazzling spectacle? Check. Devilish fun? Check. But Nolan is just warming up. There's something raw and elemental at work in this artfully imagined universe. Striking out from his Batman origin story, Nolan cuts through to a deeper dimension. Huh? Wha? How can a conflicted guy in a bat suit and a villain with a cracked, painted-on clown smile speak to the essentials of the human condition? Just hang on for a shock to the system. The Dark Knight creates a place where good and evil - expected to do battle - decide instead to get it on and dance. 'I don't want to kill you,' Heath Ledger's psycho Joker tells Christian Bale's stalwart Batman. 'You complete me.' Don't buy the tease. He means it.

The trouble is that Batman, a.k.a. playboy Bruce Wayne, has had it up to here with being the white knight. He's pissed that the public sees him as a vigilante. He'll leave the hero stuff to district attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) and stop the DA from moving in on Rachel Dawes (feisty Maggie Gyllenhaal, in for sweetie Katie Holmes), the lady love who is Batman's only hope for a normal life.

Everything gleams like sin in Gotham City (cinematographer Wally Pfister shot on location in Chicago, bringing a gritty reality to a cartoon fantasy). And the bad guys seem jazzed by their evildoing. Take the Joker, who treats a stunningly staged bank robbery like his private video game with accomplices in Joker masks, blood spurting and only one winner. Nolan shot this sequence, and three others, for the IMAX screen and with a finesse for choreographing action that rivals Michael Mann's Heat. But it's what's going on inside the Bathead that pulls us in. Bale is electrifying as a fallibly human crusader at war with his own conscience.

I can only speak superlatives of Ledger, who is mad-crazy-blazing brilliant as the Joker. Miles from Jack Nicholson's broadly funny take on the role in Tim Burton's 1989 Batman, Ledger takes the role to the shadows, where even what's comic is hardly a relief. No plastic mask for Ledger; his face is caked with moldy makeup that highlights the red scar of a grin, the grungy hair and the yellowing teeth of a hound fresh out of hell. To the clown prince of crime, a knife is preferable to a gun, the better to 'savor the moment.'

The deft script, by Nolan and his brother Jonathan, taking note of Bob Kane's original Batman and Frank Miller's bleak rethink, refuses to explain the Joker with pop psychology. Forget Freudian hints about a dad who carved a smile into his son's face with a razor. As the Joker says, 'What doesn't kill you makes you stranger.'

The Joker represents the last completed role for Ledger, who died in January at 28 before finishing work on Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. It's typical of Ledger's total commitment to films as diverse as Brokeback Mountain and I'm Not There that he does nothing out of vanity or the need to be liked. If there's a movement to get him the first posthumous Oscar since Peter Finch won for 1976's Network, sign me up. Ledger's Joker has no gray areas - he's all rampaging id. Watch him crash a party and circle Rachel, a woman torn between Bale's Bruce (she knows he's Batman) and Eckhart's DA, another lover she has to share with his civic duty. 'Hello, beautiful,' says the Joker, sniffing Rachel like a feral beast. He's right when he compares himself to a dog chasing a car: The chase is all. The Joker's sadism is limitless, and the masochistic delight he takes in being punched and bloodied to a pulp would shame the Marquis de Sade. 'I choose chaos,' says the Joker, and those words sum up what's at stake in The Dark Knight.

The Joker wants Batman to choose chaos as well. He knows humanity is what you lose while you're busy making plans to gain power. Every actor brings his A game to show the lure of the dark side. Michael Caine purrs with sarcastic wit as Bruce's butler, Alfred, who harbors a secret that could crush his boss's spirit. Morgan Freeman radiates tough wisdom as Lucius Fox, the scientist who designs those wonderful toys — wait till you get a load of the Batpod — but who finds his own standards being compromised. Gary Oldman is so skilled that he makes virtue exciting as Jim Gordon, the ultimate good cop and as such a prime target for the Joker. As Harvey tells the Caped Crusader, 'You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain.' Eckhart earns major props for scarily and movingly portraying the DA's transformation into the dreaded Harvey Two-Face, an event sparked by the brutal murder of a major character.

No fair giving away the mysteries of The Dark Knight. It's enough to marvel at the way Nolan - a world-class filmmaker, be it Memento, Insomnia or The Prestige - brings pop escapism whisper-close to enduring art. It's enough to watch Bale chillingly render Batman as a lost warrior, evoking Al Pacino in The Godfather II in his delusion and desolation. It's enough to see Ledger conjure up the anarchy of the Sex Pistols and A Clockwork Orange as he creates a Joker for the ages. Go ahead, bitch about the movie being too long, at two and a half hours, for short attention spans (it is), too somber for the Hulk crowd (it is), too smart for its own good (it isn't). The haunting and visionary Dark Knight soars on the wings of untamed imagination. It's full of surprises you don't see coming. And just try to get it out of your dreams."

I'm actually shaking.

Paging Doctor Horrible

2008-06-27T09:13:00.004-05:00

Joss Whedon makes me all giggly and incoherent. I worship the man behind Buffy, Angel, Firefly (and Serenity), the upcoming and fantastically intriguing Dollhouse, and now this, the incredibly awesome-looking Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog (best title ever? yeah, it just might be). Doctor Horrible is a 3-part film/production for the internet, starring Neil Patrick Harris (NPH!) and Nathan Fillion. Swoon.

The teaser just got released, and my goodness, what a teaser it is. I am certainly teased. Oh, Joss, you sly, brilliant man, you.

Now Dig On This, Emo-Man

2008-06-26T14:06:00.007-05:00

I loathed the first Spider-Man movie, loved Spider-Man 2, and didn't think Spider-Man 3 was as awful as people say it is. I've never read any comics, so maybe I'm easier to please when it comes to superhero movies, but then again, there is a caste system even with superhero movies (Spider-Man is higher up on the ladder than Ghost Rider, for instance), so I am at least somewhat discerning. I enjoyed Spider-Man 3, at least enough to recommend it.

That being said, there is so much wrong with the movie. Was Tobey Maguire always a terrible actor, or did something happen to him in between Spider-Man 2 and Spider-Man 3? I swear he was really good in Spider-Man 2. In Spider-Man 3, I just wanted to punch that idiotic, gaping smile off of his pudgy, dumbly glazed face. Anyway, more about him later. The plot is the movie's biggest problem. I'll try to keep it simple (like the filmmakers should have): Peter Parker (Maguire) and Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst) are officially together (or are they? yeah, they basically are) after his long-overdue revelation to her that he's Spider-Man. There's tension between Peter and Harry Osborn (James Franco), who also found out that Peter is Spider-Man and believes that Peter killed his father, the Green Goblin (Willem Dafoe). As Harry plots his turn to the dark side, somewhere across town Flint Marko (Thomas Haden Church) escapes from prison to see his dying daughter (roll eyes here) who gives him a locket (the token sentimental object). Flint Marko (worst comic villain real name ever) runs from the cops and gets trapped in a demolecularizer, which reduces him to sand. Hence, he becomes the Sandman. Oh yeah, Captain Stacy (James Cromwell) tells Peter and Aunt May (Rosemary Harris) that, by the way, Marko is the guy who killed Uncle Ben, but whoops, he neglected to tell them that before.

Meanwhile, Peter is still working at the Daily Bugle for fast-talking, straight out of a Howard Hawks film J.J. Jameson (the funnier-than-all-heck J.K. Simmons). A new guy, Eddie Brock (Topher Grace), comes onto the journalism scene and tries to sell photos of Spider-Man and basically take Peter's job, even if he has to manipulate the pictures to do so. Once his deceit is outed by bad Peter (wait for it), Eddie gets unreasonably upset and eventually turns into the villain Venom. Mary Jane is dealing with a struggling Broadway career (who cares?!). Harry does turn into Goblin, Jr., and during a pretty awesome fight with Spider-Man, Peter knocks him to the ground, which puts Harry into a coma (I think?). When he comes to, he's lost his memory, therefore forgetting anything unpleasant, like his vengeful plotting, and is as nice and plucky as can be and is bestest friends with Peter and MJ again. There's, randomly, the appearance of Gwen Stacy (Bryce Dallas Howard), the Captain's daughter. She sort of dates Eddie and then serves as a piece of ass (an extremely sweet, kind piece of ass, though), a plot device really, to come in between MJ and Peter somehow. Also, there's this black, evil goo that follows Peter around and eventually turns him into mean, black-suited Spider-Man...and into mean, Emo Peter. So, that's the plot put as concisely as possible. See the problem?

It's so convoluted and way overcrowded with characters. Not just one villain, but three! More villain for your buck, I guess. It would have been way more interesting to just focus on one instead of watching these cartoonish figures hop around wreaking havoc. They're pitifully developed. I was really excited to see Thomas Haden Church get a role in a blockbuster, and you can tell he was raring to go, but he's given nothing to do but lumber around (to his credit, he lumbers well). Most of the time he's a CGI creation. The Sandman is a pretty cool villain special effects-wise (the detail of the sand is incredible), but then he just becomes this huge Hulk-like creature pounding on Spider-Man with his big, grainy fist while Venom holds him down. "Sandman mad. Sandman smash!" And really, Venom? That's how you help? Yawn.

Harry's ordeal is just ludicrous. His loss of memory is the equivalent of a lobotomy. He's so annoyingly happy all the time. It's desperate: "Look, Harry is a decent guy! Look! Look! We swear!" At one point, when MJ and Peter are fighting (when AREN'T they?), MJ calls up Harry and, no joke, Harry is painting. PAINTING. MJ is all, "Are you busy? I need some company." And he's all, "No, come on over, just putting the finishing touches on my oil painting of a vase." Well, to paraphrase... And then, she comes over, and there's an unironic montage, set to "The Twist," of them making OMELETTES. Oh, how wacky! Wacky, wacky fun! Puke. What, exactly, is the mood of this movie? How do omelettes and Chubby Checker fit into the plan?

Spider-Man 3 is basically "Mary Jane and Peter: The Married Years." Bicker, bicker, bicker. The excitement of their romance is the chase, and once they're together, you're tired of them. I didn't care about them one bit. They wrung that relationship totally dry. If there's another movie, which I hear there will be, it'll be "Mary Jane and Peter: Couples Therapy."

Now, it's time to skewer the best (read: worst) part. Oh, it's so awful. So, so awful. Peter embraces the black goo because he's upset about the news regarding Uncle Ben. We know that he embraces it because after a fight with, I think, the Sandman, he walks outside, sees his reflection, and...prepare yourself...pulls his hair down over one eye. GASP! How terrifying! Well, it is terrifying, but not the way it's supposed to be. This triggers Emo Peter, possibly the most hilariously atrocious character in the history of cinema. Emo Peter is more horrifying than any disaster the villains throw at Spider-Man. Ugh. I can't even describe it. I was so appalled, albeit amused, that I could only watch through my fingers or clasp my hands to my mouth in shock. Let me just say: Tobey Maguire is NOT sexy. Ew, ew, ew. Take a look at Emo Peter:

NASTY. GROSS. Blechh. Not sexy! Don't dance, Tobey, PLEASE. Remember the brilliant "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" sequence from the second film? Yeah, that was clever and knew when to quit. This Emo Peter business is totally pointless and seemingly endless. It's funny in the wrong ways. And it gives me the creeps! EW. Poor Dylan Baker, Bryce Dallas Howard, and Kirsten Dunst for being dragged into these segments. "Now dig on this." THAT will give me nightmares. This montage actually leaves out one of my favorite parts, when Peter tells Gwen before they enter the club, "Love that little giggle." Ugh. I wish I could pretend that this whole fiasco never happened, but it's burned into my memory. Forever. Yikes...

Okay, let's take a moment to compose ourselves. Ready? All right, moving on...

As I said before, Maguire's acting is criminally bad. No one is worse than him. Kirsten Dunst looks like she's half-asleep the whole time. Well, she's probably bored, and rightfully so. Both of them look like they're just going through the motions. However, James Franco is actually really good. He's Brando compared to Maguire. I could tell he was having fun with the lameness of his character, and I was pleasantly surprised that he mustered up energy and emotion and made me care. Simmons is so engaging and hilarious, and Elizabeth Banks is perfect as his gal Friday, Betty. You can definitely tell the new actors from the regulars, though. They just have a vitality and freshness about them. Bless them for trying so hard. Church does a valiant job with the Sandman, and it's wonderful to see Bryce Dallas Howard have an expression on her face and smile (cough, cough... Lady in the Water, The Village... cough, cough). She's really quite beautiful. I thought Topher Grace stole the movie. I wish he had been the only villain or that he could have been in it more. He just made Maguire look even more bland by comparison.

There are some amazing fight sequences, and the special effects are simply outstanding. The sound design is also insanely impressive (I notice and appreciate that so much more in movies after making my own sound films in school). The plot of Spider-Man 3 is ridiculous, and there are so many things wrong with the movie, but I was never bored. I was actually pretty entertained. I wouldn't watch it again, but I enjoyed it enough as an escapist exercise to help pass a couple otherwise dull hours.

Spider-Man 2 is as good as a superhero movie can get. This franchise will never be that good again. My advice? Stop trying. But, if Spider-Man 4 does happen and Tobey Maguire signs on, I have some more advice: get dance lessons.

Rating: **1/2 (out of 5)

Ride the Dark Knight

2008-06-25T19:34:00.005-05:00

Er... I mean, The Dark Knight ride. Freudian slip?

Ahem.

So, my favorite theme park, the lovely Six Flags Great America in good old Gurnee, IL, is one of the lucky few Six Flags locations to gain a special new ride this season - The Dark Knight Coaster. Of course we get one. First of all, our Six Flags is the best. It's simply a proven fact. And second, Gurnee is just north of Gotham City herself, Chicago. I love living here.

I'm not sure how long this exploratory feature will be available on Great America's home page, but to check out the coolness of the ride, go here. Watch the quick intro, turn on the sound, click on the flying bat signal, and roam free.

The Dark Premise:

"The Dark Knight coaster catapults you onto the front lines of all-out war between good and evil in an indoor coaster experience that combines hairpin 180 degree turns and breakneck speed with hallucinatory nightmare imagery."

Additional Dark Description:

"The Dark Knight Coaster transforms guests into citizens of Gotham City — caught in the middle of a city under siege and torn apart by The Joker.

With The Dark Knight Coaster, guests experience the ride of their lives. Venturing through demented hallways of twists, turns and hallucinatory images, they are tormented by The Joker himself. Then as they set foot onto a distressed, vandalized train platform, they can only guess at what awaits them as they speed through six 180-degree hairpin turns, climb unseen hills, plunge into pitch darkness and dip into unforeseen danger. As they attempt to escape the terror, their only hope is that Gotham's Silent Guardian - Batman - can save them."

Dark Stats:

Ride category = thrill (or, as the guys in Harold & Kumar would say, EXTREME)
Length = 1,213 feet
Duration = 120 seconds

So, I need to go to Great America right away. This ride beckons me. It also gives me an excuse to spend exorbitant amounts of money on Dark Knight merchandise. Ahh, I'm so excited!! I'll definitely go before the film opens. Actually, The Dark Knight Coaster is almost reason enough for me to buy a season pass. Hmm... Where's my wallet?