It's a Man's World

Pop what? POP WHAT?

2011-05-13T10:25:00.001-07:00

Here’s a sentence I never thought I’d say: How much do I love Pierce Hawthorne? We both enjoy bottles of wine in our bathing suits and snazzy vests. But that's not the only reason I'm expressing my sudden adoration for the erstwhile villain of season 2.

Let me back up to the beginning of Community’s season finale, the end of the paintball standoff. When last the credits rolled, we learned that the Black Rider was a ringer hired by a certain Western themed ice creamery to win the paintball war and the absurdly large prize. This episode opened with the reveal that City College also has an effeminately voiced dean who enjoys wearing female costumes, but – more importantly – has been behind the contest the entire time. The whole thing was a ruse to get the all too eager students of his rival college to destroy their own school.

It would have been kind of awesome if they’d combined this episode’s sci-fi theme with last week’s western and gone full out Firefly. Did Troy’s tight pants and holsters give anyone else a Mal Reynolds vibe? Anyone? Bueller? Instead we got the iconic Star Wars title crawl and a rebel alliance, comprised of the last men standing and the intriguing campus personality Paradox. This group of misfits must band together to hit City College where it hurts (not their taint, Leonard) – their wallet. Troy proposes that they win the tournament for Greendale, but who cares, because Abed has gone into Han Solo mode. It amazes me how much hotter he gets when in character. He even makes Starburns’ vest look good.

Right when Troy manages to draw Jeff into the alliance and Jeff has managed to insert the term ‘thrust’ into the conversation, City College sends in a motorized paint bomb. Jeff confronts the still be-coned dean, who reveals the depths of deception he has sunk to in order to bring Greendale low. By doing so, he creates his own worst enemy, a put upon Jeff. But Jeff’s own nemesis has just reentered the arena – the City College Storm Troopers have captured one Pierce Hawthone, and that man carries a grudge that can only be soothed with pudding snacks.

Scenes from a battlefield: City College hunts down those still unpainted, and covers the butthole flag with their own appropriate and wholesome pennant. The new regime mocks the loser friendly atmosphere of Greendale at their peril – Han Solo and the Queen of Hearts are on the warpath, and Abed is in full flirtatious rogue mode. Kind of love it, not going to lie.

Troy and Jeff, meanwhile, continue to squabble over just who is leading this little insurrection. With some help from Han, Annie manages to convince everyone to combine the plans of the Super Plumber and Ballerino Hopeful. Troy’s squad lures the henchmen to the library, which has a sprinkler system rigged to gush orange paint, while Jeff’s team charges the Gatling gun hidden in the Creamery’s truck. Jeff even gets his trademark inspirational speech in and reminds everyone that regardless of the battle’s outcome, they will see each other again, at Denny’s (but only the winners).

It’s no use - City College’s defenses are too strong. Our study group sees their compatriots gunned down one by one, and Gareth’s girth has effectively canceled out Troy’s plan for escapay. Our intrepid and insistent hero goes down in a hail of pellets, but not after giving the kill order to Shirley.

And then: the paint flows.

The cleansing orange rain falls on the wounded Troy, takes out the bulk of City College’s troops, and washes away the last vestiges of Han (but only after he goes in for the kiss). Out on the wartorn quad, the paint-covered bodies of the fallen gather to watch the survivors make a last ditch charge at the ice cream truck. Shirley has killer aim, but even that can’t save her and Britta from an ambush. Greendale watches in horror as the last standing Storm Troopers high five in exultation. Twist! One masked soldier plugs the other two at close range, revealing Pierce as the unlikely hero. He dedicates the kill, and the win, to the Human Beings. Maybe now they can buy a less creepy mascot.

All is right at Greendale once again. The study group meets one last time to discuss their new class and Pierce’s involvement. Han is gone, to Annie’s chagrin, but the smell of Starburns lingers. Pierce, on the other hand, chooses to bow out of the suddenly welcoming group. Hopefully he’ll return for his thirteenth year at Greendale, because I can’t imagine this show without Chevy Chase.

Fully reverted to his meta self, Abed generously recaps the episode for the janitor, who wishes he had his time slot competitor Leonard’s sarcasm sign. Anyone want to take bets that next season’s finale will involve a fire hose of paint? Vive le Human Beings! See you all in the fall for a third season.

This Isn't a Game

2011-05-05T22:23:00.000-07:00

Joel McHale might not have given any Twitter love to my Annie Edison Halloween costume, but I'm still a die hard Community fan. As others who claim that title can attest, the show gets very little love from the big media outlets, and this won't do much to change that. If you never miss an episode of Troy and Abed in the morning or you've never visited a little Colorado community college, read on for a recap of one of the finest modern paintball games since Spaced.

Well I’m calling it. ‘A Fistful of Paintballs’ earned a spot in the all-time great pantheon of Community episodes, right up there with the first paintball war and that one with the blanket fort. This is especially welcome after a slightly uneven second season that owed more to the self contained references of Contemporary American Poultry than it did to the slice of Greendale life that defined the high points of a nearly flawless season one.

I doubt any viewers minded opening on Annie’s badass, smoky voiced gunslinger fending off Anthony Michael Hall and his homoerotic homies. The Queen of Hearts effortlessly dispatches Fat Neil, even after he begs her to spare him – after all, they did play D&D together (who could forget her turn as Hector the Well-Endowed? Do I have a bit of a girl crush? What’s going on here?). ‘That was a game,’ she smolders, turning away on her booted heel. Behind her back, Neil cocks the only pistol she left him. Annie blasts him with both barrels, finishing, ‘This is paintball’.

They spared no Western reference, in case anyone missed the theme of this episode during the paint drenched, Sergio Leone-esque credits. I particularly liked Shirley’s nun costume at the end of the year cowboy creamery sponsored picnic. While last year’s battle turned Greendale into an apocalyptic wasteland, this year’s $100,000 prize (what the hell kind of ice cream place is this?) sent our heroes back to the Wild West, when everyone’s nicknamed after a playing card, Asians banded together, and beans are a prized commodity.

Abed slipped past Annie’s defenses in the…Greendale saloon?...and the cowboy smack talk flew fast and furious. The ominous paint splatters on every surface and Annie’s lack of pants signify that much has transpired since the giant ice cream cone announced the prize and armed the ever-volatile population of Greendale. Abed proposes a truce with the gang holed up in the library. Chang, of course, turns coat within the first ten seconds, leaving the always popular Jeff Winger-in-a–cowboy-hat to fend for himself before Abed and his poncho come to the rescue.

After some vague forshadowing of Pierce’s legendary dickish tendencies, Josh Holloway makes the scene. The size of his gun provokes Abed to veer into that’s what she said territory, but I’m sure any males in the audience missed it while frantically rewinding Annie’s slo-mo sprint away from the well armed interloper. His ‘network TV good looks’ distracts the gang long enough for Britta, Shirley, and Oscar the Grouch to get the drop on them. Scratch that – Oscar would never light up like a birthday cake at the sight of his supposedly heterosexual life partner.

Apparently Cattle Baron Pierce has put a bounty on Jeff’s giant forehead. The captives are led into Fort Hawthorne, the only safe haven in the school. Starburns looks like he’d be more at home fetching brains for Fronk-en-steen rather than guarding the door to the idyllic and improbable stronghold behind the freezer where Vickie dances for Twinkies. Pierce might not have as much paint as a French kindergarten, but he knows where to get it, a move necessary to take out the Black Rider who doesn’t actually ride anything.

Annie continues her badass streak by taking down the entire cheerleading squad in an act of vengeance, before engaging in some serious sexual tension and the best exchange of the episode with the Black Rider.

After promising to shoot her in the foot – chivalrous, no? – the stranger is attacked by Jeff and Abed, who discover that Pierce loaded their guns with blanks. The other half of the study group find a splattered and Daisy Duke’d Dean hiding in his own cabinet and demand to know the whereabouts of last year’s stash. In the Paintball Cabinet, of course! Annie takes Chang’s old Tigre-patterned gun to rain down some multi-colored vengeance on the duplicitous Pierce.

Fort Hawthorne has been invaded, but Vickie dances on to the tinkly piano. Annie sets Pierce to dancing a merry tune before demanding that he stand and face her like a gentleman. He, of course, refuses. Troy is apparently a Western version of the Man with the Big Yellow Hat from Curious George. Pierce’s villainy – THIS TIME – is the direct cause of a card game several days prior, alluded to in crazy vague flashbacks, that he was not invited to. It wasn’t a game, Annie clarifies, it was a vote. A vote to determine whether or not Pierce would be invited back into the group next year. Annie and her red card caused a hung jury in his favor, but she’s done being nice.

The gunslingers stand at twenty paces, their hands at the ready. They are interrupted by the sound of spurs. Jeff, rankled that anyone could find the Black Rider more attractive than he, asks for clemency to let them duel. The Black Rider gives them a momentary reprieve, only to be taken in by Pierce’s heart attack diversion and takes a yellow bullet at close range.

Turns out the Black Rider is really an online student brought in as a ringer to win the prize for his boss. He peaces out to a Coldplay concert leading to my second favorite exchange-

Annie, Disney eyes all aflutter – “Coldplay?”
“Too late, Bean Allergy, you blew it.”

Chang, who has survived this long by a combo of epic treason and sheer dumb luck, is dropped by a Paintball SWAT team who answer to the giant mascara-wearing ice cream cone. Sadly, we have to wait till next week to find out what Operation Total Invasion entails, which makes resistance as pointless as a Greendale degree. I’d be pissed but it means that there’s another episode before this season comes to a surely awesome end. What, no Tranny Dance?

Maybe He'll Just Come Back

2010-11-29T11:46:00.001-08:00

Today is a sad day for comedy lovers throughout the world - the great Leslie Nielsen is now the late, great Leslie Nielsen. Sure, in his later career he was known as the president in the third and fourth installment in the execrable Scary Movie franchise, but before that, he was Frank Drebin, Dr. Rumack, The Captain of the original Poseidon Adventure, a guest star on the Golden Girls, and Dracula.

He was the king of spoofing movies before Seltzer/Friedberg ruined the genre entirely; he made the Shirleys of the world self conscious about their name; he saved the Queen of England with complete disregard to her dignity. The world is a colder place without his deadpan sense of humor and bug eyes.

As a child in the nineties, I wasn't interested in the topical, deadpan humor of movies like Airplane! and the Naked Gun series (although I appreciated the sight gags) until I got older, so my first real appreciation of Leslie Nielsen was in Mel Brooks' later work, Dracula Dead and Loving It. Not as classic as, say, Blazing Saddles or Young Frankenstein, but I could probably quote you the majority of the film from memory and in a variety of accents. To this day, all I have to say to certain of my friends is 'she's nosferatu!' for them to reply, 'she's Italian?!'

Sure its a ridiculous movie, but this was my introduction to both slapstick humor and the awesomeness of Mr. Nielsen. So raise a glass of wine - or whatever it is you drink - in memory of this great comedic talent. He will be missed.

It's a satchel! Indiana Jones has one

2010-11-24T22:57:00.000-08:00

Guys, I want a castle. And a pet chameleon.

If you’re going to see Tangled in theaters – and you should – go to a night showing to avoid at least a majority of the little children in pajamas (jealoussss). Unless, that is, you enjoy hearing ‘what’s happening to her?’ ‘what’s happening to her?’ ‘what’s happening to her?’ and ‘Mommy, when popcorn falls on the floor, can I eat it?’ True story.

But even with precocious rugrats and their adorable antics, the movie is totally worth a viewing. Good enough that I sincerely hope that this particular article is a case of inaccurate reporting. Luckily this quote from the Chief of Pixar and supervisor of Disney Animation, should help debunk some of that panic (simmer down, Kelsey, it’ll be all right).

"A headline in today’s LA Times erroneously reported that the Disney fairy tale is a thing of the past, but I feel it is important to set the record straight that they are alive and well at Disney and continue this week with Tangled, a contemporary retelling of a much loved story. We have a number of projects in development with new twists that audiences will be able to enjoy for many years to come." - Ed Catmull

I do have to disagree with the article at the link on the point that people don’t seem interested in princess-driven stories anymore. They’re using the box office returns for Princess and the Frog as proof, a movie that made a paltry $100,000,000. And while I really enjoyed that movie, I absolutely loved Tangled (a name that was altered from the original Rapunzel to sound more gender neutral).

First of all, the movie was visually stunning. The scenery, the characters, the…hair. The scene with the lanterns was absolutely breathtaking - and should qualify the film for an animation Oscar – fitting since this might be my favorite movie since Beauty and the Beast. And that’s saying a lot.

My roommate and I initially wanted to see it because – well, besides the fact that it’s a Disney movie and it looked amazing – because the hero, Flynn (or Eugene) is voiced by Zachary Levi, also known around our house as CHUCK, often followed by squealing and one of us sighing, ‘I love him’. If Adam Baldwin had had a cameo, it would have made it even better. We were less excited that Rapunzel would be voiced by Mandy Moore. Not by any fault of her own – she was fantastic in Saved! – but because she has a very distinctive speaking voice. Braced to try and separate the actress from the character, I was pleasantly surprised that she sounded completely unrecognizable for the most part, with the exception of her beautiful singing voice. Now I just want to know if Zach Levi did his own singing…

Special mention must be made of the evil witch, played by a woman I’ve never heard of named Donna Murphy. With her, we saw a return to form with the villainesses of old – the Evil Queen and Maleficent in particular. What made this lady truly sinister was the fact that she purported to care for Rapunzel, embracing her tenderly and cooking her favorite dinner when she visited the tower. All pretense was stripped away when Rapunzel defied her by leaving the tower, but eighteen years of illusion are hard to keep up so there must have been some affection for more than just Rapunzel’s magic hair. ‘The hair glows! Didn’t see that coming.’ No, really, it does. And it works, in story.

The traditional Rapunzel story has been given a few of the usual Disney twists – instead of stealing rampion from the witch, its her magic flower of immortality (uh huuuuh) that gives Rapunzel’s hair its powers. Robbed of the flower that had been keeping her young, the witch imprisons Rapunzel in the tower in order to access her gift. Even her healing tears come into play later in the story, although her pregnancy was, unsurprisingly, excised.

There’s not a lot to snark on in this particular movie – which isn’t to say that there isn’t plenty of humor, but the story is such an earnest and sincerely beautiful fairy tale that it’s impossible to break out the sarcasm. It was filled with a lot of genuinely touching moments and long montages of vibrantly steeped scenery, as well as a truly sweet love story that follows the traditional fairy tale rules and manages not to feel antiquated.

I already want to see it again, to recapture that wonderful feeling of being whisked away to a beautiful fairy tale land by a powerful story. There is something so thrilling in being able to immerse yourself in that kind of movie - touching, and funny, and exciting all at once.

I’ve already mentioned that my favorite Disney movie, and one of my top five all time favorite movies, is Beauty and the Beast. Partly because I love the story, partly because I love the heroine. Belle is definitely the Disney Princess that I most identify with – bookish brunette, would totally rescue my dad if he were trapped in a castle by a beast, big…brown eyes. Rapunzel is a blonde, (for most of the movie, at least) but I won’t hold that against her since she’s pretty awesome and multi-dimensional – not to mention, she wields a mean frying pan.

While I wholeheartedly agree that the era of helpless princesses waiting for their prince has passed, I am willing to fully embrace traditional fairy tales that give a girl something to do, an active role in their own happily ever after. On that point, and many, many others, this movie certainly delivers.

Credit where it's due - my roommate Justine leaned over to me at one point and whispered the awesome title of this post. I gave you credit - I totally get to do that lantern thing when I get married! Mwhahahah!

Back home

Deathly Hallows Part 1

2010-11-20T02:57:00.000-08:00

Last time a Harry Potter movie premiered, I bragged that I waltzed into a matinee showing on the day it opened without waiting in line. Well, this time I sucked it up and spent a good portion of my day hanging out on the street with a group of friends.

One of the things I’ve enjoyed the most about the Harry Potter experience is the incredible reactions it engenders in its fans. Everyone has a different draw or reaction to the story but it tends to grip fans tightly – maybe a little too tightly, if the girl in the homemade Weasley sweater and equally dubious accent on line with us was any indication.

Since the books were first released in 1997, I’ve read all seven at least once. I worked the release party for the 7th book at the Borders down the street from our camp chairs. I read the 5th book on the train from London to Cornwall and had to have my friends at our all-girl’s school in Plymouth explain ‘taking the mickey’ to me because I was shocked that Harry Potter would reference drugs. I’ve seen most of the movies in the theater but never gone the whole nine yards and waited in line for seven hours.

It was worth it. The lights went down on a crowd of excited people, some wearing cloaks and striped scarves, some with wands or stuffed owls. Some, like me, just came prepared for the cold and a good time, but were amped nonetheless. Some of us were die-hard fans of the books, anxious to see it translated on the screen; some had only seen the movies and didn’t know what the hell a Horcrux was. Others had been on the street since the previous night, which was fairly obvious if you were sitting next to them.

When the lights went out and the Warner Brothers logo came on screen, a building shriek rang out through the theater – then was extinguished as quickly as if someone had actually managed to get their twig wand to cast a silencing spell.

The opening sequence quickly indicated that these last two installments are taking the most faithful approach to adapting the books yet. There is a fair amount of pruning and condensing – for instance, showing Hermione erasing her parents’ memories of her before setting off to join Le Resistance rather than relating it via dialogue. Nice wandwork, Miss Granger, but won’t your parents wonder why there’s a bunch of empty picture frames on their mantle?

That key scenes are lifted almost word for word from the books will certainly help newcomers or the reading ambivalent actually understand the plot this time around, the team does have to deal with a number of plot holes left from previous adaptations. Was the mirror Sirius gave to Harry way back in book 5 ever mentioned before or will approximately half a given audience wonder why the hell Harry keeps consulting a shard of glass that he keeps in his sock? Will we ever find out why the Burrow was moved to the middle of a random ass wheat field? These are the questions that will baffle the casual Harry Potter fan.

Being somewhat more devoted myself, I picked up on the nearly word for word scene at Malfoy Manor, where the big bads have convened to discuss that pesky Potter kid – all color coded in black for your convenience. If the emo dress code wasn’t enough to indicate that this is not an all-together altruistic meeting, the man with no nose and the giant snake are a pretty good indication.

Voldemort rallies his troops with the supreme confidence that only a man in ~~an evil hospital gown~~ a position of unchallenged power can pull off. He has nearly taken control of the ministry and has a puppet Prime Minister ready to go as soon as Bill Nighy and his oddly Dutch accent are taken out. He also has the invaluable information of the foremost triple or quadruple agent in literature, Severus Snape. Snape must have spent his summer vacation brewing up some youth potion because the man seriously does not look - holy shit, Alan Rickman is 64?! Freakishly youthful appearance aside, Dumbledore’s murderer has some quality intelligence, and informs the depressingly garbed gathering that the Order of the Phoenix is planning to move Harry to a safe house soon. Voldemort confiscates the pimped out wand of a disheveled Lucius Malfoy – prison was not kind to that man – after revealing that his wand shares a core with Harry’s.

While his ultimate allegiance is still in question, Snape was right about the Order’s plans. Original flavor Mad Eye shows up on Privet Drive with a whole bunch of past characters and some Polyjuice Potion to get this show on the road. I’m convinced that David Yates recognized Daniel Radcliffe’s natural comic abilities and kept skewing the film towards humor, because the scene with six Harrys is hilarious. Also, when did the Weasley twins stop resembling the Monkees and turn hot? Sudden onset of repressed ginger fetish in 3…2…1

For a movie about literal soul killing, they’re taking the opportunity for sight gags at every turn – a besotted Fleur!Harry cuddled up against Bill earned a particularly big laugh from our theater. Then the mood whiplashes into awesome when the Order takes to the sky and are immediately set upon by a herd of Death Eaters (What’s the plural for Death Eaters? ‘Murder’ sounds appropriate but too obvious. Sorry foxes - ‘skulk’ seems like it fits). The real Harry is recognized, not by his propensity to disarm, which struck me as a missed opportunity for the finale, but by Hedwig’s devotion. Even braced for it, the majority of the theater gasped when his owl was shot down.

Voldemort floats on over once he’s pinpointed the O.G. Harry but any attempts to Avada Kedavra his ass are thwarted by Harry’s wand seemingly acting on its own. Lucius’ BAMF wand is destroyed by Harry’s, forcing Voldemort to take out his rage on some innocent power lines. Somewhere a town of Muggles is without electricity but also not dead, so it’s a toss up.

The Order regoups at the Burrow and, tragedy aside, I am thrilled that Fred and George’s ear conversation was left in its entirety. Next to Peeves, they were my favorite parts of the books and the poltergeist never made it onto the big screen, so thank you for that.

I’m still completely baffled by Bill Nighy’s accent, but the scene with the Prime Minister cleared up a long-time question of mine – apparently you leave out roughly half the vowels in his name and pronounce it Scrim-ger. Good to know. He hands over seemingly random but actually plot important objects a là Galadriel then removes himself and his Lady Clairoled hair from the Burrow so Bill and Fleur can get married.

Confession – the wedding planner in me dearly wants to be able to construct a reception site by magic. Is an enchanted tent too much to ask for? The wedding scene was too brief – for me – and lacking in Bulgarian men, but they managed to cram in the introduction of Xenophilius Lovegood, some good old Luna battiness, and key information about Dumbledore and Godric’s Hollow. The arrival of Kingsley’s Patronus and the verbatim line about the Ministry falling actually gave me chills.

I don’t remember the exact time in the film, but mention must be made of the awesomeness that is Neville Longbottom. When Death Eaters storm the Hogwarts Express, the Chosen One also-ran announced, “Hey losers, he isn’t here.” It’s a huge step up from soaking everyone in Stinksap. Can’t wait to see him take another level in badass in part deux!

The trio’s foray into Muggle London is where the film really takes off. Up until now the story has followed the traditional formula – a death defying end to summer vacation, then onto the next school year – but now they venture outside their comfort zone and have to sever ties with the wizarding world. There was a long, audible ‘awww’ when the camera lingered over Hermione and Ron’s hands after their first night in Grimmauld place. While the double reveal with Kreacher (and his shiv) and Mundungus was the most important to the overall plot, I wish they’d left in the letter and picture in Sirius’ room and Harry’s confrontation with Lupin. The moment in the books when Harry blasts his former teacher for thinking about leaving his pregnant wife struck me as a crucial turning point from adolescent to adult.

Instead we got a great sight gag of the trio as Polyjuiced Ministry workers. Harry borrowed a body belonging to a feared thug and slunk around with a hilarious look of terror while Ron masqueraded as a low level Ministry worker with a hot wife, and is apparently unable to remember even the most basic of enchantments. How did you make it through six years of wizard school, kid?

A brief foray into Umbridge’s office gives the set dressers another chance to use the absurdly expensive rug designed to accent her decorative kitten plates and newly procured Moody eye. Since there’s nothing of plot importance in that pink hellhole, Harry shuffles awkwardly off to the trial of Ron’s ‘wife’, where he finds Umbridge apparently unbothered by the evil bit of soul accessorizing her cat shawl. Never one to reflect on the slightest impulse, Harry Stuns Umbridge, allowing disguised Hermione to snatch the Horcrux and the trio to make their escape. Not before Ron gets a little sugar from his new wife, though.

A particularly gravel-voiced agent of Voldemort’s hitches along when the Disapparate, so Hermione abandons their hideaway and heads for the woods. We get a glimpse of the horrific side effect of Apparition when Ron leaves a good chunk of his shoulder behind. His recuperation, also known simply as The Camping Section, kicks off a travelogue of Places in the British Isles That No One Ever Really Wants to Visit. I seem to remember something about a Voldemortornado ripping through a Muggle trailer park in the book, so that particular location was a nice inclusion.

The upside of the interminable camping portion is that they’ve finally managed to find a Horcrux. The locket makes a toe curling skritching sound as the heroes make every attempt to blast that bastard to pieces. Invulnerable to everything but a basilisk infused sword, it emits a high grade PMS beam, causing tempers to flare in the enchanted tent. The Grint in particular devolves into a little bitch and storms out on his friends.

At a loss without their gingery comic relief, Harry and Hermione attempt to alleviate the tension with some awkward dancing. No one is fooled. They settle for a visit to Godric’s Hollow, Harry’s birthplace and the Dumbledores’ former home. No mention has been made of Dumbledore’s sister, a troubled witch who was tormented by Muggles and who just so happens to share my name. Would have been nice to have been name dropped in the biggest movie of the year, but what you gonna do?

They find the Potters’ tombstone after stumbling across a cryptic marking on a grave marked Peverell. Waiting at the entrance of the graveyard is a seriously creepy old woman. Call me crazy, but when one of the most chill inducing senior citizens that you’ve ever seen motions for you to follow, go the other way. No such common sense prevails, so they follow her to a hoarder’s dream. She pointedly ignores Harry’s questions about a photograph of the young man who’s starred in several of his Voldemort Vision nightmares, a thief who has taken something Snake Nose is willing to kill for. Not like that says much, but he’s pretty adamant about finding the guy if Harry’s constant visions are any indication.

Batty Bathilda lures Harry upstairs – another red flag if there ever was one – where she is revealed as Voldemort’s giant snake in an old lady suit. Reptiles have never particularly freaked me out, but this snake gives me the heebs. Hermione manages to zap it and get them the hell out of there, at the expense of Harry’s wand.

As if the loss of his magic tool wasn’t enough, Harry draws the Horcrux shift and sits angsting outside their tent until a glowing doe trots by. Because shining animals are always a good sign, he abandons Hermione to follow the doe into the woods and onto an iced over pond. Shining in the surely freezing depths is the sword of Gryffindor. Harry strips down for the umpteenth time to go polar bearing but nearly gets strangled by the Horcrux. Action!Ron leaps out of nowhere and drags both a nearly naked Harry and the sword to the surface. As a reward for his heroics, Ron gets to stab the evil piece of jewelry.

Before he can summon the balls to skewer the locket, Ron is treated to his greatest fear come to life – evil versions of his two friends telling him that he will always be second best to Harry. To drive the point home, Horcrux!Harry and Horcrux!Hermione start making out - wearing nothing but luminous paint. L’Awkward.

To save his eyes – and ours – Ron strikes, eliciting an enormous, powdery explosion and a huge burst of applause from the audience. He returns to the tent in triumph with the wasted locket and the sword, but gets a reception as chilly as the frozen pond. Despite his heroics, he gets a beatdown at the hands of a frustrated Hermione. In an attempt to get back in her good graces, he launches into a stilted monologue that wandered in from a Nicholas Sparks movie, about the lights moving inside his heart and leading him back to his friends or some shit. It fails to impress Hermione, but Harry urges him to keep repeating it. Chicks dig sentimental crap.

To keep things moving, and discourage Ron from going on about the lights, Hermione suggests a visit to the Lovegoods’ to investigate the symbol that’s popped up in several places including – more – jewelry, and Dumbledore’s book of fables. Rabbity babbity, amiright guys? No one?

There were a number of details that I wish they’d left in the visit to good old crazypants Xenophilius – Luna’s friendship mural, the as yet unmentioned Ravenclaw diadem, even the damn Erumpent horn – but instead we get treated to a seriously awesome animated version of the Three Brothers, a wizarding tale about three brothers who receive gifts from Death, items that make up the titular Deathly Hallows. They include an unbeatable wand, a stone that can bring back the dead, and an invisibility cloak that can fool even the Reaper. Together, the Hallows allow the bearer to cheat death. Harry realizes that his frequent viewings of Voldemort Vision signify his foe’s attempt to find the unbeatable wand as he follows a centuries old chain of murder and theft. Before Xenophilius can trade the trio for his kidnapped daughter, they beat a hasty retreat – right into the arms of a group of Snatchers, hooligans employed by the Ministry to round up Mudbloods or something.

Hermione’s hurriedly cast Swelling Charm only disguises Harry for the space of a conversation, and they find themselves in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor along with Luna, Ollivander, and a goblin. Enraged by their possession of the sword of Gryffindor, and Harry’s general Voldemort thwarting, Bellatrix settles in for a nice torture session with Hermione. As glimpsed earlier during the Board Meeting of Evil, her hair is in direct correlation with her level of crazy. Her ‘do is at humid Amy Winehouse levels now, resulting in a prison tattoo on Hermione’s arm.

Luckily that random slice of mirror in Harry’s sock has a purpose besides the ever-present threat of tetanus, and Dobby appears to their rescue. I’m curious what casual viewers think the mirror is all about, since it was never mentioned before this film and, oddly enough, has not been expositoried all over. My test for a successful adaptation is to determine whether or not my dad would have been able to follow the movie without having read the book or used me as Cliffs notes and I have no doubts that he would have had questions about this one.

He’d also have inquired about the cutesy elf spirited in from another story – and his styling boots. Dobby simply doesn’t fit in with the tone of Deathly Hallows, almost as out of place in this grim tale of a sinister scavenger hunt as singing elephants. He does bust the boys out of prison and spirit the other captives to safety, so I guess he can stay. He also unscrews the Malfoys' chandelier, probably out of pique at their former treatment of him. His attack gives Ron enough time to snatch Hermione from the point of Bellatrix’s knife and Harry to disarm Draco – not with his favorite spell but with good, old-fashioned wrestling. They Disapparate to relative safety, but don’t manage to outrun Bellatrix’s knife.

Another audible gasp ran through the audience at the reveal of the blade sticking out of Dobby’s chest. I actually found myself wondering if Daniel Radcliffe was cradling a dummy straight out of the Uncanny Valley when Dobby died in his arms, going out upbeat to the last. Harry gives him a proper burial before we shift to another, very different tomb.

I sort of doubt that Dumbledore would have been interred in such a postmodern monstrosity, but mine is not to wonder why. Either way, Voldemort thinks little of disturbing the dead and busts on in there to relieve Dumbledore of his wand, a knotted instrument that has featured heavily in a number of Harry’s visions. His almost immortal foe now possesses the Elder Wand, the most powerful of the Hallows. Bastard’s going to be nearly impossible to defeat now. But that’s a story for another time – roll credits!

The second installment isn’t due out until July, when the furor will start all over again for the last time. I’m not sure that I’ll sign up for another stretch of sidewalk camping when it does, but I loved sharing this experience with a group of great friends. To Kelsey, Emily, Ella, Neko, Caitlyn, Casey, and Trinity – and Matt, Justin, Justine and Jennifer for visiting those of us crazy enough to wait – thanks for making seven-odd hours fly by. If nothing else, let’s all get together and see DH part 2 midday on Friday – that worked really well last time.

To my wonderful father – I wish I could have shared this movie with you too. I miss explaining wizarding minutiae to you and I know you would have wanted to see Cowboys & Aliens.

Back home

Nolan's Dream Team (terrible, I know)

2010-07-20T14:54:00.001-07:00

If there’s a ridiculous looking movie coming out – one that I have no intention of seeing but am slightly intrigued by – I will spoil the shit out of it. I will put in time and effort to find out what the eff is going on even if – especially if – I have no plans to plunk down ten fifty to watch it. I know all about the plot of Splice (shudder) but I didn’t step foot in or near that theater.

If it’s a movie that I have the slightest interest in, however, I won’t go near the spoilers. I managed to walk into the theater for Inception without knowing any more than what was in the trailer. I frantically avoided articles, reviews, spoilers, you name it. Since I worked so diligently to keep myself unspoiled for the movie, I’m going to go ahead and warn you now – if you don’t want to know what goes on in Inception, don’t read on.

I can sum it up best by saying that – in the few moments throughout the movie when my mind wasn’t avidly soaking up every detail – I managed to think, ‘this is one of the best heist films of all time’. Stripping away all of the surreal and unusual details, Inception is, at its core, a heist film. It just happens to take place in the mind.

You have the standard cast of eccentric and essential characters, but where most heist films are populated with the mastermind, the demo expert, the master of disguise, etc. here you have a chemist, an architect, a forger. Ok, so the forger is an incredibly creative take on the master in disguise, but you know what I mean. These quintessential characters are turned on their heads, but you can sense their underlying presence.

Still, no heist film would be complete without that mastermind and, like all good characters, he’s got issues. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, my appreciation for Leonardo DiCaprio started with The Departed. I voiced my – disinterest? I guess – for Shutter Island, but he nailed it in this one, ambiguous ending and all (you were warned). The kicker here was the personal twist that he brought into each dreamscape – never his creation, never his subconscious – but always tainted by guilt.

If everyone’s guilt manifested itself as a capricious French woman, the world would be a better place, but DiCaprio’s Cobb’s guilt tended to take a homicidal turn, no matter whose mind he inhabited. Even without a weapon, his wife’s presence seemed to unmake the careful reality he and his team crafted, and she showed up without fail. Like I said, dude had issues.

The core of the movie wound through layers of storytelling and consciousness that kept me white knuckling my squeaky theater chair. I honestly don’t know what to say about the bulk of the plot without resorting to movie review clichés – a must see, the best movie you’ll see all year, a tour de force of cinematic magic, blah blah blah. But it’s the dénouement that I want to focus on: the top wobbles.

The rest of the movie was so well crafted that having an ambiguous ending didn’t bother me in the slightest, especially since there are so many ways to read it. It almost doesn’t matter which post-fade-to-black reality you subscribe to – all of the options are possible, satisfying, cathartic. If the top falls, the whole movie was a job well done, a pay off for the tension and intricately woven action that came before it. If it doesn’t – it constitutes a choice. Cobb didn’t wait to see whether the top spun on or fell; he didn’t care. He was happy to be there, reality or no. As the screen slammed into darkness in our theater, a multitude of reactions were voiced: appreciation, disappointment, surprise. I’d like to think that the viewers who evinced disappointment thought back on it after their initial response, that they were able to walk away with an ultimate sense of completion, of a movie that followed through on its intentions.

I think that’s one of the things I appreciated so much about Inception– the plot was as carefully crafted as the dreamscapes; the world and rules that govern these characters so fully realized. The actors were able to speak about layers and kicks and projections with such conviction that the viewer shouldn’t have a problem accepting the unusual terms, which could easily become gibberish in less skilled hands. Joseph Gordon-Levitt, a long time favorite of mine, is especially skilled as Arthur, one of the dream scavengers.

Even more importantly, Inception follows the rules of the world it portrays. The characters know that in order to achieve true inception – the act of planting an idea in a dreamer’s subconscious and having it take root as organic and natural, affecting the dreamer’s waking life and decisions – they have to start with a pure, simple idea. It must be easy to grasp in order to have an impact within the convoluted and complicated elements of the dream. And, much like a dream, the film carries that simple concept at its heart, enhanced and illustrated with fantastic performances and mind-bending effects. Like a dream, that singular concept is fluid, subjective, dependent on the viewer or dreamer for meaning.

Similarly, the concept must be presented in an emotionally fulfilling way, to both the dreamer and the audience. Cobb’s team used their subject Fischer’s complicated relationships with his father and godfather to create inception – they understood that even a foreign idea, like Saito’s plan to break up Fischer’s superpower, had to come from a recognizable, emotional source. Who knows how Fischer’s relationship with his godfather fared after Cobb’s foray into his subconscious, but at least they allowed him to take a sense of catharsis and completion from their act of corporate sabotage. In order to present the concept to the audience, they couch it in terms of Cobb’s relationship with his deceased wife, Mal (pronounced Moll, which has its own French implications). A complicated idea presented in terms of human, touching relationships.

By keeping the core elements of the film elegant in their simplicity, Nolan and his team retain the ability to go nuts with the concepts and effects without going overboard. The writing, the characters and their interactions, the vivid elements of the world of the dream are all so cohesive and flawless that the mind can dwell on the deeper implications of true inception without ever pausing to doubt the visual portion of the film.

There are many ways to read the film and it’s ending, but I am fully satisfied with the interpretation I took away. I certainly plan to watch it again to see what else I can pick up – augh, trains! – but I don’t imagine that it will change the emotional fulfillment that I took away from the initial viewing

Back home

Connect 4 Million

2010-05-18T17:50:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to lie, I completely thought this was a joke. The fact that its real makes it even better.

Way to look on the bright side, pseudo-deity and pissed-off smoke monster.

Back home

Iron Men: Explosions, Sexual Innuendo, and a Barrel of Daddy Issues

2010-05-09T18:38:00.001-07:00

Last night I walked into a friend’s art show excited about our post-show plans, a quick dinner then IRON MAN 2. Caps, mine. I bubbled about how much I was looking forward to it until one of the guys who was going with us asked, ‘If Robert Downey Jr. wasn’t in it, would you still want to go?” Oh, Matt. We’ll chalk that up to the fact that we haven’t known each other that long, and that my girlish geekiness has been somewhat dormant since last summer. But the answer is hell, yes. I would have waited in line to see that movie even if the producers had cast Sam Rockwell in the titular role (which they had originally considered. I know, right?)

Which is not to say that I don’t very much enjoy RDJ in the role. I do love that little bearded man. He was clearly having a fucking amazing time in the first one – I probably would have laughed at anyone else who said, in all serious, ‘I am Iron Man’. Actually, I know I would, my old boyfriend tried it.

Stark’s buzz was somewhat subdued in the second, due to pesky palladium poisoning from the implant in his chest (no, not like that). Even with his blood toxicity levels rising steadily, Stark managed to snark and flirt as epically as he did in his first outing, only with some humbling gravitas thrown in. This seems to be his year for growing up a little in roles, as I noted a similar trend in Sherlock Holmes.

Mickey Rourke seems to be having a grand ol’ time, that’s for sure, but I’m 82% sure that, questionable Russian accent aside, he was a bit type cast. The opening scenes with him crooning to his bird? Pretty sure that Rourke just said ‘you know what would really make this a menacing villain? A cockatoo.’ and the producers went ‘can…can someone get a bird for Mickey?’ That’s not even a euphemism – he’s really attached to his pet bird.

So the backstory is that Howard Stark was pretty much the Walt Disney of weapons manufacturing, but didn’t live to see his dream fulfilled, and passed the legacy down to his son. Also passing along the family business were the Vankos, the aforementioned questionably accented Russians, who were less about weapons and legacies than physics, carefully nursed grudges, and vodka. It took the one-two punch of his exiled father’s death and the announcement that Stark IS Iron Man, to get Ivan Vanko to stop swigging potato booze and dredge up some old Stark Industries blueprints. While his American counterpart is off drinking chlorophyll, flirting with ~~Scarlett Johansson(who has learned to breath through her nose, hallelujah!)~~Natalie Rushman and handing his company over to a woman with the nickname Pepper, Vanko decided that what he needed was portable lightning. I’m with you on the revolutionary weapons, Vanko, but can we discuss the weirdly frosted hair? Is there any wiggle room on the head suit?

Also entering the villain arena – or the vaguely annoying threat arena – is Justin Hammer, played by Iron Man also-ran, Sam Rockwell. You want non-threatening slime, think Sam Rockwell. Hammer is the secret weapon in the Senate’s attempt to get Stark to turn over the Iron Man ‘weapon’ to their greedy little hands. Actually, Colonel Rhodes, forced to read from his own testimony, is their secret weapon. In typical Stark fashion, Tony barely lets the pompous senator get a word in, and overrides their own technology to assuage the Senate’s fears that other countries are even close to creating their own manned suits. Even Hammer’s attempt is laughable, although he asserts, ‘that guy lived’.

Here’s where I admit that I actually like Don Cheadle as Rhodey. Terrence Howard’s weirdly effeminate voice always bugged me. Cheadle works a combination of Oscar-winner dignity and sarcasm, and I like that.

Anyway, back to the plot, Vanko decides to make Stark eat his words, and shows up at a drag race in Monaco with his homemade badassery. Perturbed by Justin Hammer – I can’t take you seriously with that name, man – and the Vanity Fair writer from the first film, Stark basically tells everyone to blow it up their ass and goes to drive his own race car. That’s where Vanko comes in. His lighting whips can basically slice cars into ribbons. I knew I loved Tony Stark when he decides to take on Vanko without his suit. I knew I had a grudging respect for Pepper when she makes Happy drive her into certain danger to take him the suit. Fittingly enough, its in the form of a suitcase. Lame pun, yes, but apparently it’s true to the comics.

Suitably powered up (sorry, I couldn’t resist), Stark commences kicking Vanko’s ass. His suit definitely shows the wear of battling with lightning whips, but it holds up better than what Vanko made IN RUSSIA. WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS. When he finally gets Vanko on his back, Stark rips out the homemade arc reactor. Vanko giggles.

Yes, I find it sexy when RDJ speaks French, as he does when he goes to visit the mad Ruskie in jail. Since he is crazy, or drunk, or possibly both, Vanko taunts Stark with their fathers' connection, and the hopelessness of the palladium in his che-GOOOOOOOOAAAL! Sorry. I’m watching the Sharks smash the Redwings. Ah, victory.

Where was I? Oh, right, Monaco. They must have very a helpful prison system in that principality, because Vanko gets a lump of C4 for dinner, a key, and a stunt double, all courtesy of Justin Hammer. You might have a five star restaurant in an airplane hangar, Mr. Hammer, but you have no idea how to apply self tanner. Seriously, you can afford the spray shit. Don’t be a cheapass. Since Hammer is basically inept, he decides that what his company needs to outshine Stark is a loose cannon with an ax to grind. Have at it, moron, I have a feeling this will be fun. Oh, and don’t forget the bird. No, that bird.

Digging into the truth about Vanko’s backstory is wearing out the palladium core of Stark’s mini arc reactor. Here’s where the major disparity between this film and the first kicks in. Iron Man 1 is pretty much what you expect a summer blockbuster to be – gleefully destructive and truly awesome – you walk out of the theater still riding on an adrenaline high. Which isn’t to say that Iron Man 2 lacks that quality, but the story at the core hits a somber note. Like I said, Tony Stark is growing up. And in his case, that means burning through palladium cores while slowly being poisoned by the artifact that is keeping him alive. Oh, cruel irony.

A little goading from Scarlett Johansson (kudos on the closed mouth breathing, but learn to emote, ok? Acting is more than reading off a page) produces one of the most jaw-droppingly awesome scenes in the movie: Stark, hammered on champagne and martinis and god knows what, hosting his own birthday party IN THE IRON MAN SUIT and playing draw with various thotchkes and his repulsor beams. That is, until Rhodey shows up and decides to fight iron with iron, leading him to don the Mark Whatever suit, immediately gifted with the knowledge of how to put it on and make it work, and go toe to toe with Stark. And now the awesome gets turned up to eleven.

During a fight that is equal parts whose suit is the mightiest and whose snark is the sharpest, Stark and Rhodey ~~cross the streams~~lock repulsor beams, resulting in a plasma burst that levels the house, and kills the party. Since putting on the suit already constitutes a huge betrayal, Rhodey decides to just continue severing his friendship with Stark, steals the suit, flies it to the airport base, and turns it over to Justin Hammer. No really. I am…a bit baffled by this. Sure, the dude’s a cocky bastard, but that’s no reason to beat him down, destroy his home, and turn over his brainchild to a cockier, more annoying bastard.

Enter Nick Fury. There is something so right about an eye-patched Samuel L. Jackson and a suited up Tony Stark sitting across a table, sharing donuts. Only in LA. It doesn’t do anything for me when ~~Natalie Rushman~~Natasha Romanoff struts in wearing her catsuit and poodle hair. Blah blah blah she’s a plant, working for Fury, blah. Since Fury is also head of the department of backstory, he fills Stark in on the problem with his chest and his ‘high tech crossword puzzle’. Turns out there is no element strong enough to wire the chest reactor without frying it and turning Tony into a cryptogram. Unless he fucking makes one.

Meanwhile, Vanko has basically decided that Hammer is dumb, and has rewired everything from the software to the suits, which are now unmanned. No, Hammer, that does not go on your head. Oh god, someone get the forceps, he got stuck again.

Since his mad Ruskie has lived up to the name I gave him and gone mad – even with the bird. Dammit, that’s the wrong bird – Hammer decides to invest in a backup plan, namely, the stolen Stark suit. He tries to trade his Hammertech items for the suit, pulling ever bigger and bigger guns from his arsenal. Rhodey is unimpressed. That’s one hell of a stone face you got there, War Machine. Finally, the ‘ex-wife’ missile cracks that façade and Rhodey agrees to the trade. The suit for the whole stockpile of weapons. What the mother fuck are you doing, man? You are screwing over your best friend for what – an itty-bitty dick metaphor? I’m disappointed in you, Rhodes2.0.

Meanwhile Stark has had an epic dues ex machina moment with his father’s world of tomorrow blueprint and succeeded in creating a new element. Yes, just like that. In his house WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS. And Captain America’s shield. Excited by his energetic domination of the world of physics, Stark refits his chest reactor with the new element and heads off to the Stark Expo.

And not a minute too late because who is that jigging his way across the stage? Justin Hammer. After taking away Vanko’s bird (and pillow. And shoes) and acquiring the suit from Rhodey, Hammer decided that what his epic weapons presentation needed was a little soft shoe. You realize that you’re not back in Charlie’s Angels, right, Rockwell? Just checking. He stops dancing long enough to introduce the squads of militarized Hammer drones and a souped up Mark Rhodey suit. Rhodey even has the grace to look a little embarrassed, but that might be because he can see Pepper giving him the stink eye from the audience.

Stark, who has finally caught up with the rest of the plot, crashed his rival’s presentation to inform Hammer that, when you team up with a man who frosts his hair, there are consequences. Namely, that Vanko has killed your guards, rigged your software, and commandeered your drones (and Rhodey’s suit) in order to wreak havoc on the Stark Expo.

*insert epic chase scene here*

While Tony is zooming over Queens with a platoon of droids and his best friend on his tail, Natalie and Happy head over to Hammer’s HQ to take out Vanko. Fanservice ensues, yadda yadda. I will say this – Scarlett Johansson’s martial arts training paid off well, and she kicks minion ass. Not having to do anything but look grim and put guys in a headlock works out well for her. Then she starts talking again. Happy, meanwhile, has taken out one henchman to her twelve, but hey, good job there.

Together they ~~fight crime~~override Vanko’s software, giving Rhodey full control of his suit. He and Tony land in some lush little meadow that was apparently part of the Expo and take out the droids that weren’t destroyed in the epic chase scene. Before they can congratulate each other in a manly fashion, Vanko swoops in wearing his very own super suit. It’s basically Iron Monger with the lighting whips, is what I’m saying. Clash, clash, its impossible to transcribe action scenes, especially when they’re awesome, so go watch the movie. Finally, Stark convinces Rhodey to cross the streams, so to speak, and manages to blow up Vanko. But not quite all the way, as he activates his failsafe, rigging his suit and all of the droids to blow.

Stark saves Pepper, the Expo goes boom, and then they kiss. Rhodey sees about as little chemistry as I do and makes some quip about ‘seals fighting over a grape’. I don’t know why, but in my mind, there are flippers. I have a weird mind.

You can’t a movie with only one (one? one.) scene with Samuel L. Jackson, so he shows back up to tell Stark that he’s narcissistic. Something about the Avengers that I’m just going to ignore because that’s going to be a whole different movie, and then medals with a side of vengeance. Vengeance!

Credits.

Credits.

More credits. Good god, how many people worked on this thing?

Hammer.

Ok, you can leave now

How to Write a Rom-Com

2010-03-09T19:30:00.000-08:00

The writer over at Filmdrunk posted a handy dandy, snarky as hell and yet, sadly accurate guide to writing a romantic comedy in ten easy steps. I plan on using none of them in my upcoming screenplay.

One of my favorites, regarding the hate/love relationship all rom-coms utilize - 'Maybe she’s an uptight career woman and he’s Matthew McConaughey.'

Acting's Highest Honor

2010-03-08T14:15:00.000-08:00

I didn't take a whole hell of a lot away from last night's Oscars - aside from the fantastic Hurt Locker victory - and my deep, abiding love for RDJ and his turquoise bow tie.

Last night's bloated telecast was very nearly made worth it for three things: the historic director win (and my own personal schadenfreude at James Cameron's expense), my beloved Steve and Alec, and the Iron Man 2 trailer.

I very nearly didn't watch it because I want to go into the theater on May 7th unspoiled and excited. They don't have to convince me any further; I'm already going.

But I succumbed and now I'm even more excited for the premiere. It has so many of my favorite things: jumping out of planes, snarky RDJ, and things blowing up. I'm even on board with the questionable Russian accent - I love questionable Russian accents (I do a great Natasha Badenov).

I'm on the fence about Scarlett's presence, however. I have never been a fan of her style of acting, which seems to consist of a lot of monotone and mouth breathing. I am a fan of kickass women, however, so I'm willing to give her a chance. I don't have a whole lot of love for Gwyneth Paltrow (even less after she started Goop and began encouraging women everywhere to stop eating white foods and carbs. Touch my sandwich and I cut you) and yet I have no problem with Pepper Potts. Some of this may be the healing balm of RDJ's presence, I don't know. Maybe it will work for ScarJo too. Either way, I plan on having fun.

Someone clearly has a lot of time on their hands

2010-03-06T17:22:00.001-08:00

But this is awesome!

This is a joke right?

2010-03-03T23:48:00.000-08:00

Or is this someone's idea of riding James Cameron's coattails?

Neil Patrick Harris has a TV-heavy resume. Now he's just landed the lead in Smurfs: The Movie for Sony. Harris won’t have to walk around as a blue-tinted Avatar, either. The Raja Gosnell-directed film is a mix of live action and animation, and Harris is the lead live action character. Filming begins in April, when he’ll be on hiatus from CBS' How I Met Your Mother.

Come on, NPH. You have more sense that that. Don't you?

Don't you?

I'm Easily Amused

2010-02-27T14:31:00.000-08:00

I don't post on here all that often, and its for two very good reasons. The first is that I'm lazy. And the second is that I write about a fairly specialized subject and there isn't always a whole lot going on in the world of manly movies. So now its time to improvise and just share some of the random ass things that I stumble across.

This is the last commentary I'm going to give on Avatar. Seriously, even if that thing sweeps the Oscars, I promise to try and find something else to say about the ceremony (failing that, I'll follow the old adage and won't say anything at all. And its going to be a goooood awards show - if only because my friend is throwing an 'I'm Oscar (dot com)' party and we're all dressing up as various Bluths. I've already been Lucille - suggestions?

CFV 426 - Avatar/Pocahontas Mashup FINAL VERSION from Randy Szuch on Vimeo.

Now I really want to go watch Pocahontas. (I also have 'Make a Man Out of You' from Mulan stuck in my head. Its one of those days.)

On an AD note:

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

This is sheer, ridiculous brilliance.

I think its perfectly appropriate to post this, given my inaugural post. Its included on the DVD and my roommate and I watch it constantly - not the movie, just the bloopers. If nothing else, skip to 5:15 if you want to see how a typical conversation around our house goes.

Next up is news of an all-new Broken Lizard movie that involves college. Ought to be a good time.

What else can I throw at you? Here, this is responsible for a lot of things I don't get done. I promise more on the next installment of I Have The Attention Span of a Goldfish.

What Happens When There's Nothing On...

2010-02-24T22:31:00.000-08:00

After Matthew Goode gave an interview in which he basically admitted that he was in Leap Year for the money and that it was shite, I figured, well, now I have to watch it. I already knew that it was a poor excuse for a romantic comedy – the trailers had little evidence of either romance, or comedy, so that was a bad sign.

I don’t know why they keep churning out these women-aimed movies that seem to have so little in common with real women. I mean, all right, I found a random thing or two to relate to in the film, but for the most part I felt like the filmmakers had no concept of causality and were basically playing movie mad libs.

Neurotic, marriage obsessed main character [Anna] doesn’t have a ring on her finger yet because [her boyfriend is lazy?] [nagged to death?] [doesn’t care?] so we have a basic premise. In this case [she takes matters into her own hands] and [flies to Ireland to propose to him (and my film teacher told me I was unoriginal!)].

Insert hijinks here…

The [clinically insane Irishman] realizes that he can’t live without her after having known her for precisely an hour and forty-two minutes, and proposes [on top of a cliff].

Done! Time for a pint.

Here’s my unrealistic/semi-relatable romcom bingo card.

I would never board a transatlantic flight (or climb a hill) in stilettos.

If a man gave me a suitcase – brand name or otherwise – I’d smack him. I honestly don’t think I could say ‘It’s a Vuitton’ with a straight face.

I’m perfectly capable of opening a trunk. Or ‘boot’, if you’re Irish.

I would never never deprive a man of his sandwich.

I have, however, flown a car. But I stuck the landing.

I have hitched a ride in Ireland.

I have never been to a dinner party that ended with everyone making out at the table, but maybe I’ve been hanging out with the wrong kind of people.

I have tried to travel in Ireland on a Sunday, and I can tell you – it is a bitch.

I’ve never worn a gay pirate’s shirt to a wedding.

I’ve eaten – many times – at Poppie’s in Enniskerry, and I can tell you that their beef and Guiness pie is to die for.

I can’t say I’ve never fallen for a clichéd Irishman – because I so have – but, while I couldn’t understand him half the time either, it wasn’t because his accent had traces of a vaguely Germanic supervillain.

I have been proposed to by a random Irishman in a pub. If you’re out there, Johnny McDrinky, I sincerely hope that you didn’t show our ‘wedding picture’ to your mother like you were planning to, because you were blitzed.

Anything else? Oh, I’VE NEVER BASED MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE AROUND GETTING A RING ON MY FINGER AND GONE TO BATSHIT INSANE LENGTHS TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN.

God, I will be happy when every female-oriented movie doesn’t revolve around weddings, or getting him to propose, or wondering why he hasn’t proposed, or any other variation of women’s lives solely depending on diamonds and validation. I think I’m going to write a movie about a woman that doesn’t want to get married. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go think up a plot.

Dammit, this is hard.

Back home

I'm Not Drunk Enough For This

2010-02-20T11:48:00.000-08:00

I should have gotten more liquored up before watching Shutter Island last night.

Now we know what happens when you read The Manchurian Candidate, watch Gaslight, take a few psycho-tropic drugs, and play Myst.

In a way, the movie is the cinematic equivalent of Lost. We all gathered in the lobby for a while, chatting about whether or not he was actually crazy and everything the psychiatrist said was the truth, or whether he was sane and they were trying to shut him up, or possibly some combination of the two. That seems to be the reaction Scorsese was going for - get people talking, theorizing.

I'm leaning more towards the second option - DiCaprio's 'partner' addressed him as 'Teddy' right before they led him off to the special lobotomy lighthouse (if that part is real, why not the rest of it?) which would seem odd unless it was truly his name. Why continue with the charade when they're just going to shove an icepick through his eye?

I believe my friend Ella put it best - 'I did my part: I paid ten dollars. Finish the damn movie, Scorsese!'

Back home

Men Becoming Wolves

2010-02-18T23:44:00.000-08:00

Say you’re one of the suits at Universal, the studio responsible for some of the truly great monster movies back in the day, and you’re in need of a new hit. Now, you could do what everyone else (cough *Fox*) is doing and reboot something, or sort through your kids’ toys until you get some inspiration.

Or, you could just go back to the well and redo what made you a great studio in the first place. And that, my dears, is how we got The Wolfman.

Now, you’re remaking a classic here, so there’s no need to veer wildly into new, original territory. In fact, that’s probably a bad idea. I mean, this is the rock upon which your studio was built, so let’s just stick with what we know works, ok?

Now, for that, you’re going to need some misty, ominous moors, preferably somewhere with an astronomical anomaly that causes at least four full moons within two hours. That’s key. If you can’t find one, a really bright, round light will do, but it’s not advisable.

Go ahead and kill someone before the opening credits – it’ll set the tone for the rest of the movie.

Next you need a decaying country manor, an eccentric lord, and a prodigal son. If you’ll turn to page two (2) of the Movie Trope Handbook you were given upon ascension to your current position as ‘producer’, you will find all of these. You can add an unexpected twist by casting Benicio Del Toro as the prodigal son of an English family, and making him speak with an American accent. Suggest that he breathe out of his mouth for the duration of the movie, and that he read his lines right off the page. Inflection is for pussies and art house flicks.

Now that you’ve established the plot, its time for a scene in a pub. Every classic horror movie has at least one scene set in a pub. Make everyone fall eerily silent while one mysterious man reveals the whole plot. Then have them ignore him. Blame the gypsies, if you can. It’s always the fucking gypsies.

Time to introduce the romantic interest! Its totes ok if she was engaged to the hero’s brother like five minutes ago. The Brits were weird like that.

Don’t worry about subtlety when it comes to foreshadowing. They didn’t even know what subtlety was when they made the original. Or foreshadowing. Don’t forget to utilize that English manor. You spent good money on it, money that could have gone towards corn syrup and red dye.

About fifteen minutes in is a good time for backstory – make it something nice and traumatizing, like the little boy seeing his mother’s body after she killed herself. Good. Back to the moors! If they aren’t sufficiently misty, rent a fog machine. And a really long extension cord.

Gypsies are always good for exposition, and they make great cannon fodder. Make sure your hero visits them on a full moon, for maximum angst potential. Now, bring in the beast. Lure the hero into the open; a defenseless kid with no sense of self-preservation is good. Since he’s a Hero with a capital H, he’ll run to the rescue and then you can maul him.

Find some way to make his recuperation interesti-AUUUUGGGHHH WHY THE FUCK IS GOLLUM IN THIS MOVIE? I didn’t tell you to do that.

Mix it up a little and bring in a van Helsing character. Hugo Weaving would be good, provided that he’s got facial hair and a drawl that would make Wyatt Earp proud.

FORESHADOW FORESHADOW FORESHADOW. Good, just like that. Now for a romantic interlude: skipping rocks is Victoriany, right? FORESHADOW. *clears throat* excuse me.

Give Anthony Hopkins something to do; he’s not used to playing calm and quiet. Let him frighten off the first iteration of the angry mob. He can either use his own Welsh accent or vacillate between that and vaguely Scottish. Its up to him.

No one’s died in awhile, so bring on another full moon. Make Anthony Hokpins act all shady, too. He’s good at that. Get him to monologue about being dead and then lock himself in a cell under his wife’s mausoleum.

Now its time for the transformation – you hyped this to death in the previews so make sure it looks like it hurts. Go ahead and start swiping extras’ limbs off – but make sure there’s plenty of gore. For added effect, how about a severed hand continues to fire the gun it’s holding?

Benicio Del Toro runs just like Bigfoot, yeah. Its an industry secret. It’s also time for a change of scenery, so haul him off to an asylum and pass the time with a delusional montage. Intestines and sideboob. If you bring Gollum back, I’ll cut you.

Now its time for Hopkins Explains it All. He’s British and they’re colonists, so you could blame it on the Indians or something.

You're three quarters of the way through now, so its time to step up the gore. Make sure this is an ensemble scene to ensure premium carnage. No one likes vaguely German psychiatrists, so make his death as ironic as you can. Let the wolfman roam wild in London – there’s already a catchy song about that. There has been buckets of blood and guts already, but if you really watch to squick out the audience, have him drink out of the Thames.

Send him to visit the romantic interest again. If you’ve done your job right, she won’t have any sense of self-preservation and will agree to harbor the wolfman and maybe make out with him a little.

You’ll need some expositional materials – all supernaturally star-crossed lovers research their mates. Luckily, ‘lycanthropy’ and ‘ancient gypsy curses’ are right next to each other in The Encyclopedia of Stock Horror Clichés.

Pick up the action as the lovers race back to the place where it all began – except that this is Victorian England so instead of racing, they’ll have to plod. Throw the law into the mix as well so that all pertinent characters are close to each other.

Let Hopkins quote literature before turning into a beast, commenting on the dual nature of man, how they’re both civil and wild. Or something. He should look more like a demented ape when he changes, rather than a wolf. Let the two creatures toss each other around for a while; it won’t look silly at all. Then blow up Hopkins. And decapitate him. Make sure the head keeps snapping and biting after it hits the floor.

Throw the romantic interest and the cop in the room with the wolfman and let them duke it out. She should take the gun with the only effective bullets and run in the opposite direction from where it might be useful, and he should get bitten. Go ahead and burn the house down; it wasn’t expensive.

For maximum dramatic effect, have the romantic lead run to the very edge of a cliff (or deep stream, whichever is closest) and plead with the wolfman. Telling him ‘don’t’ like a misbehaving dog is particularly effective. If all goes well, he should start purring. It should work, but only for a minute or two. Then she’ll have to shoot him.

Lull the audience into a false sense of security, then have him reach into the frame and grab her. This signals his transformation back into a man. A tearful romantic scene and then, dead.

Linger on the bitten inspector – maybe you can make a sequel where he meets Dracula.

Follow these easy steps for a foolproof blockbuster*.

*Following these steps does not ensure high box office receipts, positive reviews, or a sequel.

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The Substitute

2010-02-17T00:01:00.000-08:00

In tonight’s episode of Lost, Richard Alpert, he of the guyliner, did the unthinkable, and turned down the possibility of having all of his – and our – questions answered. When the mysterious being wearing the Locke suit offers to tell you everything, you say yes, Richard. If only for my benefit. Of course, the question then becomes, how much truth are you going to get out of him. And whose truth is it?

Another hour into the final season of Lost, and we still don’t know. I get the feeling that what comes out of FLocke’s mouth is a dangerous mixture of truth and lies, intended to keep the Lostaways, and the viewers, uncertain. So far, its working.

I wouldn’t mind traveling via smoke. It would make my commute so much easier. Does this mean I have to be ambiguously evil now?

Locke episodes always make me so uncomfortable. The character inspires such palpable pity that it makes me want to hide in the couch cushions until he’s done making an ass of himself, and tonight was no exception. It was interesting to see Terry O’Quinn play between masterful and sad. Seeing capable, optimistic Hugo was a treat, too. This version of Locke – the original flavor – does have some upsides in his life. He’s engaged to Helen and he’s got a lot of other Sideways islanders on his side.

Back on the island, even ol’ Smokey sees monsters. The ominous, pre-teen messenger informs FLocke that, per the rules, he can’t kill him. ‘Him’ in this instance is presumably Jacob, debunking my theory that the kid was the little towheaded spirit of the island’s seemingly benevolent deity. A theory made and refuted in a single episode? That’s a new record. It also causes FLocke, who shares his body’s habit of falling down, to take another page from original Locke’s playbook and scream ‘Don’t tell me what I can’t do!’ John, you in there, buddy?

The sideways version struggled with that concept as well, but a fantastic Rose, calm and accepting of her terminal cancer, basically bitchslaps him into getting over what he ‘can’t’ do, and forces him to focus on what he can. Which is yelling at teenagers, apparently.

Meanwhile, FLocke has failed to coerce Alpert to follow him down the rabbit hole on the thin promise of some sensemaking, so he went after a drunk and damaged Sawyer. What is with the filthy undergarments, man? That is the form that your grief is taking? Bitter and a bit sloshed, Sawyer agrees to go tromping around in the forest with a man he fully realizes isn’t Locke. He also decides to put a gun to his head, a la Lenny and George.

First I was shouting for Sawyer to shoot FLocke - SHOOT HIM DAMMIT, I WANT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS – until the scarred one started talking about feelings and being trapped and shit, and then promised to give Sawyer some answers. At that point I changed my tune – DON’T SHOOT HIM, I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON. Lost is interactive, the way I watch it.

Sidenote: In a bookstore last week, my roommate and I overheard a girl about our age loudly telling the unfortunate person on the other end of her phone that her professor had told her about some guy named John ‘Steenbeck’, and apparently he had lived just down the coast in Monterey and was kind of famous. We followed her, at a non-creepy distance, until she gave up looking for him in Local Interest, and asked a clerk where she could find books by Chelsea Handler. She and FLocke would have gotten on well, I think.

Whoserface, the leader of the recently arrived Jacob mercenaries, lets slip the information that FLocke is apparently stuck in his Locke suit. Trapped, you might say? They bury Locke in the picturesque seaside cemetery where so many Lostaways have already found their eternal rest, and let Googly Ben give his eulogy. It was actually pretty touching, without the murdering bit.

More emphatic yelling – DON’T BE A PUSSY, SAWYER, GET SOME ANSWERS. JUMP OF THE CLIFF IF YOU HAVE TO. And then - HOLD ON TIGHTER, YOU FLOPPY HAIRED BASTARD, YOU CAN’T DIE BEFORE THIS SHOW MAKES SENSE. At the bottom of the rickety ladders is a cave with – oh hello, thematic scales and yin-yang rocks. FLocke hurls the white one into the ocean – apparently ageless deities have inside jokes.

There’s more! Inside the cave is another cave (new theory: the island is a giant Russian nesting doll of confusing shit) with a bunch of chalked on – and crossed out – names covering its walls. Prominently displayed were ’16-Jarrah’ and ’42-Kwon’. Seat numbers? THE numbers? Even FLocke doesn’t know. First the list hidden within an ankh within a guitar case, now here’s a giant Jacob list in cave form.

I completely give up boggling over Locke teaching basketball to boggle over Sideways Ben harping about coffee grounds. Am I alone in this, or did it look like Locke was already planning on offing Sideways European History teaching Ben?

Flashbacks show us that the intact names inside the cave are people Jacob met at one point or another. Touched for the most part – but did he make contact with itty bitty Sawyer? Hard to tell. According to FLocke, all of these people were candidates – to take over Jacob’s position. I have a feeling that this wording will be significant: Jacob THOUGHT that he was the protector of [the island]. Whether he truly was, or whether FLocke is lying, remains to be seen. He ominously crosses out 4-Locke, implying that a touch isn’t enough to save one of Jacob’s chosen.

Here’s where the double-talk really picks up: he posits that there is nothing to protect the island from, that Jacob was an idiot who was just luring people into the new Bermuda for the hell of it. So Sawyer can either ignore this new mantle of power that he supposedly has been given, stick around protecting the island from ‘nothing’, or he can go home. With FLocke in tow. Because I’m willing to bet that whatever is inside that creepy shell needs a ‘candidate’ or other unsuspecting stooge to get him off the island. He has chosen wisely; bitter over the loss of Juliet and his own captivity on the island, Sawyer consents.

I didn't even miss those confused bastards hiding in the temple. More of this, less of the lovey dovey shit, eh?

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What Kate Does

2010-02-10T00:14:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of Horrify the Twilight Noob , tonight we played Baffle The Lost Noob. My roommate joined us for tonight’s episode and, as predicted, didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. We tried to cram in five convoluted season’s worth of explanation into the commercials, but of course each thread of conversation spawned at least three new questions and, in several cases, full on alternate timelines.

On alive-again Sayid:
How did he get shot?
Well, in 1977 they were trying to escape the Dharma compound to set off a hydrogen bomb...
Its all going to be like this, isn't it?

When they strapped Sayid to the table:
Are they going to waterboard him?
Actually, he’s usually the one who does that.
Uh-huh.

In the woods with the Others:
Hey! Its Mac from Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia!
Oh yeah, didn't he die back in season 3 or something?
Huh?
Rousseau is ALIVE?
Who?
Oh I guess not.
Eh?

As Claire shrieks in pain:
That’s not how you go into labor, actually. Just so you all know. That’s right, bitches, I’m a nurse.
Shhh, something might actually happen.

During the search for Sawyer:
There’s a village? I thought it was a deserted island.
They’re the Others – well, no actually, it was the Dharma Initiative first, then the Others killed them all and took it over.
O-ok

In the hospital:
Hey! It’s Ethan!
Who? Was he on the plane too?
No, he was with the Others but the island was blown up, but we don’t know when it was blown up, so its possible he never made it…
…then Karev slept with Little Grey but then Izzie came back and…
What?

Chatting on the dock:
Aaron’s the baby, right? Is he on the island?
No, he’s in LA.
Forget I asked.

On Kate and Sawyer:
Did those two hook up?
Yeah, in the polar bear cage.
The what?!
But then she got back together with Jack, and then Sawyer and Juliet started time traveling and ended up in the 70’s and moved in together and then she was blown up by a hydrogen bomb and…
Oh my god I stopped caring

Discussing the mysteriously absent Locke:
He is the Smoke Monster – the what? – but not the Man in Black – who?

I actually had to go back and watch this again, to see if there was any sense to be made. There wasn't - much - but there were a few key moments that were either entertaining or hopefully will have a payoff down the road.

I loved Sayid’s delivery of, ‘No, I am not a zombie.’ Immediately followed by Hurley’s, ‘…private talks kind of freak me out because they usually lead to me having to do something I don’t quite understand.’ The key to the whole show, right there.

The Kate-centric moments didn't actually seem like they went anywhere - unless it was to drive the wedge between her and Sawyer in even deeper, and toss out a moment with her and Jack. I'm less interested in island romances than I am in this thing making even the tiniest bit of sense, so let's focus on that, please.

Pretty sure Sayid is ‘fixed’ like Ben was fixed, way back in Season I Lost Track when time hopping Sayid shot pre-pubescent Ben and he was taken to the temple to be healed. Richard warned that the process would change him forever. Is that what happened to Not A Zombie Sayid? Because Ben was a creepy, bug-eyed kid before the attempted assassination so I’m not sure that much changed. But the Crazy Temple Hippie's attempt to poison Sayid after having let Ben live doesn't have a lot of logic behind it. Then again, this is Lost.

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Best Crossover Ever

2010-02-08T23:04:00.000-08:00

Ray Wise guest starred on the most recent episode of Castle. ~Spoilers after the jump~

Of course he's the killer. I called that the minute I saw his smug, orange little face. The dude is the devil, after all.

Memo to self: Get Reaper DVDs.

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Happy Super Bowl Sunday

2010-02-07T14:27:00.001-08:00

Presented without comment

Ok, with a little comment: WHOOOOO!

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LA X - Now with an official, spoilery update

2010-02-02T23:55:00.000-08:00

Well folks, we’ve come to the beginning of the end – of Lost, that is. I, for one, am kind of ready for it to be over, even though I only started watching it all of (checks watch) a year or so ago. All you die-hards can bitch and moan about how I haven’t been here from the start, how you’ve put in the long haul, but I just want to know what’s going on, dammit, so I can go on with my life. Because, like the late, and truly dead, John Locke – I don’t understand.

I do, however, have my very own Lost theory. I know, everyone does and they’re usually incomprehensible and completely batshit, but here goes:

They’re fucking with us.

Lost is a complex, six-year-long experiment to see how long an audience of intrigued/obsessive viewers will keep coming back to see what new fuckery they have in store this week.

As most of you probably know, tonight was the premiere episode of the final season of Lost; the season in which, presumably, alllllll the questions will be answered. Well, don’t hold your breath. It seems that they’re not done throwing mysteries at us quite yet.

Here’s what we do know:

We’ve got a secondary timeline going on now. This is great. It’s like the point in Back to the Future 2 where Doc breaks out the chalkboard and my head starts to hurt. So instead of the hydrogen bomb resetting the future (or just blowing a crater in the fabric of time/space), there are now two simultaneous timelines: one in which the Losties were catapulted into the present but remain on the island, and one in which Oceanic 815 not only makes it to LA, but a whole lot of other events fail to take place. Case in point, Desmond is on the plane, not languishing in the hatch.

Alive!Locke is definitely the Man in Black and the Man in Black is definitely the smoke monster. There you go. That’s actually one big mystery off the table. Dead!Locke is, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Jacob doesn’t let being dead stop him from roaming around the island, giving cryptic advice to Hurley.

Juliet made it – and then not so much. I spent much of the anguishing goodbye between her and Sawyer going ‘but Sayid! You’re going to let Sayid die to save the least consistent character in the show?’ My cat thinks I’m crazy. But seriously, first she was ruthless and evil, then she was trying to save her sister, then she was just misunderstood, a quick trip back to ruthless, and then she got all domestic with LeFleur. And she couldn’t act her way out of a polar bear cage the entire time. I’m done with Blondie.

Sayid died – then not so much. Hurley saved him, with the aid of some hippies that have taken up residence in the temple. Until Whatsernuts the Stewardess and the kids showed up, I was getting irritated by the introduction of yet another group of people kicking around on the island, adding to the already confusing roster of malicious jungle dwellers. So apparently they’re a splinter group of the Others? With a mysterious leader we've never seen before? Or something? Still, their sacred and sometimes malfunctioning pool saved Sayid, so good on them.

The Temple Hippies – and Richard ‘Possible Former Slave’ Alpert – are royally fucked now that Jacob is dead. Or ‘dead’. Or possibly the Man in Black wandering around in a Jacob suit to further his own ends. What? Conspiracy theories are all part of the fun, right?

Things aren’t going too swimmingly in the other timeline either. Kate’s still a fugitive, Charlie’s a junky, Locke’s a gimp, and Daddy Shepard’s body has gone MIA. Boone is as metro as ever – maybe more, even – and couldn’t convince his stepsister to leave the Aussie jerk she was shacked up with. Arzt (?) is alive and kicking. I mean, I’m sure that’s good for him, but he was really irritating before he got blowed up. Oh, and the island is under water.

I’m not even going to try and speculate about how they’re going to try and wrap everything up by the season’s end. I don’t know how much of their own crazy they will be able to coerce into making any vague semblance of sense, but I do know that life goes on, even after Lost does not. I’m sure there will be enough crackpot theories to keep people entertained if they miss having their minds messed with every week. This is one of those times when you just have to sit back, relax, and let the fuckery begin.

UPDATE

All right, well.

Last night the show's executive producers made an appearance on Jimmy Kimmel Live and gave out some revealing information - and mostly just messed up a lot of people's theories. Namely, that Locke is NOT the Man in Black. But he is the smoke monster. And who the hell knows what's up with Sayid.

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You can't sell horse tranquilizers to a midget!

2010-02-02T00:32:00.000-08:00

We got to the Legion showing really, really early – who knew there was nothing going on downtown on a Sunday night – so we had the pleasure of sitting through that First Look crap they play before movies these days. Which means we got to sit through the Death at a Funeral trailer twice.

I actually really liked the original, British Death at a Funeral, so I feel that it’s pretty unnecessary to take a movie that was already good and just make it louder.

Here’s the trailer for the original:

And here’s the reboot:

Judging by the bits I saw last night, they essentially held on to all the same jokes – and the gay midget lover – and just took them a bit further. You know, to make sure the Americans realized that it was funny.

This marks the first time American studios have remade a film done in English and released in US. While my initial presumption was that they were going to take it and make it barely recognizable, I was actually a little impressed by the restraint shown in the trailer and clips – especially by Chris Rock who stars and wrote the script. Plus, I enjoy pretty much everything Tracey Morgan does.

Aside from the Americanized cast and setting, they added in some more pratfalls and general ridiculousness (hopefully that Burger King line doesn’t make it into the theatrical release), but I hope they kept pretty close to the original for the overall plot. The nudity, drugged dwarf wrangling, and poo jokes were already there, so it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch to make it appeal to American (read: paying) audiences.

While I’m cautiously optimistic for the remake, I’ll keep defending and recommending the original. I’ve always been a fan of British comedy and I think this one stands on its own merits. Its entertaining even if subtle humor isn’t your thing – there’s plenty drug and family related ridiculousness and of course, the first ever small person rodeo. There are a number of things it has that the remake just can’t measure up to: Mr. Darcy, Colin the God of Sex, and the hilariously impaired Alan Tudyk. Seriously, it’s worth a viewing just to watch that man embrace a hedge.

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Mangels and Rednecks

2010-02-01T23:56:00.000-08:00

What do you do if you’ve recently moved and haven’t gotten your cable hooked up yet? If you’re my roommate and me, you get tired of watching DVDs on your 15” stand-in TV and head out to a late showing of Legion, then proceed to turn the nearly empty theater into your living room. To the other six people at the 10:10 showing on Sunday, weren’t you having any fun? That was not a movie to take seriously.

I’m not sure if the filmmakers intended it to be, but hopefully they’ll be mollified by the fact that we enjoyed it so much. I’d been intrigued by the bits of promos I’d managed to catch, but my roommate knew next to nothing and I was really hoping I wouldn’t blow all my cred by picking a crappy movie. Like that time in Vegas I said we should go to the burlesque show instead of Cirque du Soleil and we saw so very many nipples...but that’s another story.

Luckily Legion had a number of things going for it, besides my initial interest based on the whole ‘war on god’ thing. Which, as it turns out, wasn’t so much war on god as it was a minor disagreement with god that furthers the plot but never really goes anywhere besides a couple of epic battles.

The story follows a rag tag crew of diner patrons stuck in the middle of feckin’ nowhere, and one deposed archangel, a disobedient and armed-to-the-teeth Michael. (It might be blasphemous, but we giggled and sighed every time he did that brooding angel thing up on screen. Fallen angels: they’re the new sparkly vampires. Tell your friends.) So God decided that he was tired/bored with humanity, or following the trend of recent disaster oriented films, he was sick of the waste they’d laid to his precious planet and decided to do the Etch-a-Sketch end of the world bit. Rather than a flood, he goes with clouds of flies and angel-possessed humans.

These zombiesh sharp-toothed drones are after a chainsmoking waitress’s unborn and unwanted child because, as Michael vaguely explains, he’s the last hope for humanity. How and why is never fully explained, but the folks in the diner are pretty quick to dance to his tune with only minor exposition. They barricade the diner against the walking wounded before dying, one by one, at the hands of the freaks outside and one pissed off avenging angel - Kevin Durand of Lost and Wolverine with one hell of a voice synthesizer.

There’s not much more to the movie than that – some character development, some incredibly kick ass fight scenes (I mean, come on, an angel with an Uzi? Good times), and a number of intriguing prophetic bits. While I was able to quiet that critical voice in the back of my head and thoroughly enjoy the movie for what it was, I still came away with a few questions.

Why exactly was Michael so willing to throw himself from God’s grace and take on the Dogs of Heaven for humanity? You could make the argument that compassion was enough, but why was he the only angel affected by it? I was also intrigued by the collars the angels wore – when Michael cut free of his at the beginning, he lost his wings and angelic abilities. If they symbolized a bondage to God, why was he resurrected and shown wearing it again – especially if God was so keen on the apocalypse happening? What was the deal with the ‘instructions’, a set of cryptic angelic script tattoos that transferred to the human hero after Michael’s death, and were supposed to guide the baby to greatness? Why was the hero named Jeep?

These are the things I ponder, after I stop laughing and cheering at the outrageous action during the movie. They left it fairly open ended, so if there’s a sequel – and Bettany’s back – I’d give up another Sunday evening to solve those riddles.

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Dear Project Runway Judges

2010-01-29T01:19:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry, BUT ARE YOU ON CRACK?

You really picked Mila's Antarctic Jogger design as the winner of this challenge? I'm not even outraged on someone else's behalf, I'm just a little shocked that you praised her for being so innovative when it was clear that she blatantly ripped off THIS:

If she had been taken on a side trip to the aquarium for inspiration, sure, I could see this winning, but I thought that Morgan Freeman was about to narrate the runway show. Put this on any woman other than a statuesque model, and she is going to waddle as much as that little Magellanic up there.

Still, Michael, love your boots. If you feel inspired to send a Roslyn bag my way, it would save me from having to contemplate grand larceny.

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Obligatory Golden Globes Rant

2010-01-18T10:48:00.000-08:00

First – and most important – Robert Downey Jr. won Best Actor for Sherlock Holmes and accepted with his usual verve and insanity. Could I love him any more? I think not.

For the most part, however, the Globes were all about Avatar’s continuing quest to take over the world. At least have the grace to be surprised when they call your name, James Cameron. Everyone else seemed a bit put out that Kathryn Bigelow didn’t win for The Hurt Locker, but his Highness of the World up there is basically rubbing the award in his ex-wife’s face. Awkward.

I actually had no interest in seeing Avatar despite all the hype – changes the way movies are made, biggest film event in years, blah blah blah. Somehow I wound up watching it on New Year’s Day, possibly because I was too tired and hungover to resist.

Give the movie all the special effects awards you want, but I don’t think it should be in consideration for any kind of all-around movie award. You want to make a 3D Smurf version of Pocahontas, you go right ahead. But – and I’ve been bitching about this for a while – it doesn’t qualify as a total achievement when you blow your wad on day-glo rainforests and half ass it on things like, oh, plot and characters.

A lot of easily impressed reviewers have said that Avatar is a visual experience, that viewers should enjoy the amazing world they find themselves in and just appreciate it ‘cause its pretty. Sure, if one of the highest grossing movies of all time is a third-rate trophy wife.

I’ll stay over here in the pretentious intellectual malcontent camp because I think James Cameron should be held accountable for taking paper thin story lines and propping them up with flashy colors and overly long acid trip nature documentaries. Had he given as much thought to his plot as he did to the mating rituals of the blue cat people, I’d have been able to immerse myself in the fantastic world he created, rather than sitting there singing Colors of the Wind.

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Smarter Than Batman

2009-12-26T14:04:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas to everyone! I managed to fulfill my holiday ambition of going to see Sherlock Holmes and spend time with my family. All right, so I talked my mom into seeing it with me. It was our first Christmas without my dad, and we both felt like we needed to get out of the house for a bit.

How awesome is my mom? When a trailer warned that it contained ‘BLOOD GORE & VIOLENCE’ and opened on a full moon and a wolf howling, she asked ‘is that one of those Twilight movies?’ and started snickering. She did laugh at the trailer for The Bounty, though. STOP IT, GERARD BUTLER.

And now, the pièce de résistance, the movie I’ve been squealing over for months now: Sherlock Holmes.

This version of Holmes is the bastard child of Guy Ritchie’s rock ‘em sock ‘em movie making style and all the gritty, flashy superhero reboots we’ve been seeing over the past few years. It takes the mythos of the fastidious, meerschaum pipe smoking detective and turns him into a rock star. Not all of Ritchie’s characterizations are that off base: substance abuse? Check. Martial arts? Check. Codependent partner in solving crime? Check.

Robert Downey Jr. is clearly having a ball as Holmes, but he also manages to demonstrate master restraint (for him). He adheres to the Holmesian persona to an extent, holding onto a gravitas that the character needs while adding his own twists. While I’d probably have watched RDJ flail around with an English accent and a waistcoat for two hours and change, he’s going fairly legit with this one. The fact that he can say ‘ginger midget’ repeatedly and keep a straight face should put him in the running for an Oscar. Only a few minutes into the movie he manages to steal a bowler hat, predict a fight to the last blow, avert a murder, and steal my heart. I love this movie already. I want to marry it, honeymoon in Antigua, and start trying to get pregnant right away.

While his counterpart is off being a (somewhat) serious thespian, Jude Law gets to have a field day as Watson. I remember the character as well a somewhat staid foil for Holmes’s rapier wit. This incarnation gets the movie’s biggest laughs by playing opposite RDJ’s deadpan. He also gets to kick a lot of ass.

As this is basically a buddy cop movie set in Victorian times, Watson portrays the grizzled veteran, hoping to close his last case so he can retire and be free of the rule breaking shenanigans of his hot shot partner. The odd couple relationship hinted at in the trailers is in full force – Watson nitpicks, Holmes brushes aside his complaints while constantly trying to lure him back into the case, the mysterious death and resurrection of one Lord Blackwood.

Mark Strong (Blackwood) started working with Ritchie in Revolver but I would have adored him for the strength of his Lord Septimus in Stardust alone. He does dashing malevolence extremely well, which makes him perfect for this Aleister Crowleyesque baddie. The movie revolves around his grasp for power by reaching the pinnacle of a secret society similar to the Freemasons, which he then uses to try and take over Parliament. Blackwood’s menace is chiefly due to his seeming mastery of the dark arts – the movie opens on Holmes and Watson interrupting a ritual sacrifice, the sixth he has committed for reasons that aren’t really explained at any point during the film. They make even less sense once Holmes deduces the scientific methods used to stage his supernatural murders, but it’s a minor plot hole in an otherwise smoothly running story. Presumably the murders are to add to his mystique as a master sorcerer, which aids his ambition to take over the Temple of the Whatever. They certainly impress the unfortunately named Lord Coward, because he pretty much rolls over and becomes Blackwood’s bitch on the strength of a couple of virgin slayings alone.

Complicating Holmes’s investigation is the return of old flame and adversary, Irene Adler. I kind of love her. She’s the quintessential femme fatale: beautiful, devious, and irresistible to Holmes. One revealing flashback shows her handily dispatching a couple of men attempting to attack her, and she gets credit for being the only person to fool Holmes – twice. Of course, she has an ulterior motive in reappearing in his life, as evidenced by shady meetings with mysterious men. My mind immediately jumped to Moriarty, and I’m glad to say I was right.

The Lord Blackwood plot dovetails with the introduction of Professor Moriarty, setting up sequels that I’ll happily watch. Depending on the box office, this could easily become the next big franchise, the Batman Begins to the Moriarty sequel’s Dark Knight.

I probably would have convinced myself I liked it on the strength of Guy Ritchie’s involvement alone, but I’m thrilled to say I really enjoyed it for its own merits. That’s a relief, because it was actually a little difficult to recognize Ritchie's fingerprints on the finished product. Sure, you’ve got a bohemian Holmes, bare-knuckle boxing, and a number of twists and turns, but it wasn’t immediately recognizable as his work. There was a series of dizzying quick cuts that practically had me clapping because it was so obviously his trademark. I’m not disappointed that it wasn’t as Ritchie-esque as his other movies – it’s a movie with his style and blockbuster chops to boot. His critics will probably laud him for finally learning to make another kind of movie. I say he should find a balance in the next one – I hope there’s a next one – a blend of Sherlock and Guy will keep me coming back to the theater as long as he keeps making them.

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It's That Time of Year Again

2009-12-22T20:10:00.000-08:00

Now that we’ve reached the end of a decade, everyone is putting out lists of the 10 greatest whatevers of the past ten years. Or arguing over what to call them. I don’t care so much about what they’re called, and the best of lists are pretty done to death by now, so how about a little perspective for 2010 and beyond.

Here’s my Top 10 Movie Trends Its Time to Retire. Make that top however many I come up with. 10 is too many to commit to.

The Manboy
They’ve been a pervasive trope throughout most of cinematic history, mostly because they’re so true to life, but the Manboy really got off and running with Judd Apatow’s 40 Year Old Virgin. While Steve Carrell was adorable, most women who come into contact with these permadolescents are going to be waiting for many, many years if they’re holding out for the kind of self-realization Apatow leading men go through. They combine two qualities that make for the best movie characters: they’re both realistisic and aspirational, but that makes their real life counterparts all the more frustrating, as it doesn’t actually take 120 minutes of musical montages and Jason Segel to make them man up. Yes, I’m speaking from experience.

The CGI Mindfuck
I won’t deny that CGI has done some awe-inspiring things – there would be no Matrix franchise without it; debate amongst yourselves if that’s a good thing – but as technology has continued to develop, studios have paid increasing attention to special effects over other aspects of movie making like, say, characters and plot. While I’m thrilled with the advances they’ve made, and I can’t imagine this summer’s Star Trek reboot having as much of an impact if they were still throwing potatoes in front of cameras like the good ol’ days of the 70’s, I hope we’re nearing the point where studios have become accustomed to their cool new toy and are going to chill the fuck out and pay more attention to the script again. Confluence, I say. Get on that before people give Roland Emmerich any more money.

Back to the Hasbro Well
Seriously, stop making movies about brightly colored plastic shit from the 80’s. And board games. No one needs to watch a movie about Monopoly, a game my brother would drag out on rainy days and use to bore me stupid. I blame Michael Bay for this one entirely. He made a fairly crappy movie about toys that took more time to assemble than they did to entertain and now people are out there, scratching their heads about how to write dialogue for the stiff from Operation. Don’t tell me the industry is so strapped for ideas that they’re resorting to inspirational trips to Toys ‘R Us.

The Coldhearted Workaholic Shrew
Women get a rough shake in the movies to begin with. While men have been playing the adorable lunkhead since before Fred Flintstone, the nagging wife character has yet to meet her doom. What’s worse is that, with the rise of post-feminism and independent women, they’ve created a new persona for female characters, and she’s a bitch. If she’s successful, she’s ruthless and never gets laid. If she’s got a boyfriend, he’s miserable. If she doesn’t, she has a five-page checklist for the ideal man and probably some kind of personality disorder. And these are all in movies made FOR WOMEN. It’s called a chick flick and yet you’ve given more thought to the main character’s shoes than to her personality, content with making it as wafer thin as the actress playing her.

The Golden Goose is Dead
How many Land Before Time movies did they make? Eight? Twenty? Are they done yet? Once you’ve gone Direct to Video (I’m looking at you, American Pie) its time to move on.

The 120 Minute Long Ad
Dear people behind Sex and the City: in addition to your laundry list of crimes, you’ve managed to create a movie and ostensible sequels that are basically poorly written Manolo Blahnik commercials with some bland sex talk (I’m guessing; I didn’t see it so I don’t know if there’s a plot). XOXO now I have to go find an underground bunker before the horde of women with torches and pitchforks get to my door.

The Untimely Death
Once in a blue moon, an original, interesting idea manages to come out of Hollywood and is met with praise and adoration from critics and fans alike. The last few years alone brought us Arrested Development, Firefly, and Pushing Daisies. And where are they now? Six celluloid feet under in favor of revolving door reality shows. RIP, quality programming, we hardly knew ye.

The Rise of the Reality Star
Get Heidi and Spencer or Jon and Kate or whatever sad, lonely famewhores you are hawking out of my face or so help me Jebus I will turn the internet around and you will all go to bed without porn.

The Uncanny Valley, You’re in It
I am begging you, for the love of all that is good and pure, stop making CGI animals talk. Babies too. If it can’t talk in real life, make it a cartoon or you’ll force me to get the old priest and the young priest. This goes double for Alvin and the Chipmunks. Excuse me while I go wail over Jason Lee’s career.

There you have it, folks: the top (nearly) 10 things I hope Hollywood got out of its system in the last decade. I would like to end the list with an appeal to Steven Spielburg and Mattel to hurry up and release the hoverboard already. It’s been two decades. Now you’re just fucking with us.

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Its Fun Being Eternally Damned!

2009-11-27T21:23:00.001-08:00

Two posts in one day! I know - when did I suddenly get prolific?

Anyway, after the jump check out the Twilight RiffTrax which is the same as DVD commentary, but with 1000% more snark. And it actually got me to laugh with the movie. Not at it, with it. Enjoy!

I think my favorites were:

'She looks like she's wearing a rabbit's dentures'

and

'The cameraman is being chased by a badger!

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Twilight 2: The Sparkling

2009-11-27T15:55:00.001-08:00

In case the hoards of shrieking teenage girls (and their mothers) didn’t clue you in, this weekend was the opening of the second movie in the Twilight series: New Moon. This time the twinkly vampire faces off against the oddly chiseled werewolf to see who commands the heart of the whiny teenage girl they both inexplicably love. The scary part? Not the vampires – they sparkle! – but the fact that this indie-lite tween movie nearly had a higher grossing opening weekend than The Dark Knight – which currently holds the record at $152 million. New Moon grossed just under that, making around $140 million.

How did the sparkly vampire nearly overtake frigging Batman, you wonder?

Apparently, between the midnight opening on Friday and the box office estimates on Sunday morning, some die hard fans had already seen the movie four or five times. Four or five times? I’ve never seen any movie that many times in the theater, let alone in the space of two days. You really mean to tell me that some die hard women spent ten nearly consecutive hours watching the tepid drama between two supernatural creatures and their ~~prey~~ love?

Critics seem far less impressed with the second outing of the Twilight series, but they seem resigned that their opinions mean little to a demographic willing to shell out $50 of carefully hoarded allowance money on Team Whoever tees and movie jewelry replicas. Its crap, they write, but you – and we know who you are – are going to see it anyway. They do hold the movie up as evidence that audiences are willing to pay top dollar, in a recession no less, to see a movie fronted by a woman. Right, because anyone goes to these juggernauts, braving life, limb and sanity in a sea of shrieking fangirls, to watch Kristen Stewart bite her lip and mope.

I’ve expressed my disinterest and downright dislike of the series before, both on this site and frequently to my friends. One of the best of whom informed me last night that she had watched the first movie, gone to a theater to see the second, and promptly became hooked.

Below you can witness a text conversation in which Stephenie Meyer’s twinkly vampire opus nearly ruins a nineteen year long friendship. My responses are in green (click to enlarge).

I had to cut the conversation short because a.) any guy who tried to take me to see New Moon would not only not get any, but would never hear from me again and b.) I was going to have to go off into a long winded rant about how the ‘sparkly dude’ aka Robert Pattinson reeeeeeally doesn’t do it for me, vampire patina or no. The furry jailbait, I won’t even get into.

But having this conversation with one of my oldest and dearest friends, on Turkey Day, no less, had me wondering about why this series not only failed to draw my interest but actively turns me off.

I was one of those teenage girls who tended not to follow big trends growing up – I wouldn’t have categorized Younger Me as alternative or specifically trying to go against the grain – but there were some huge moneymakers that simply failed to draw my interest. I liked what I liked and occasionally that was what the marketing machine was pushing in my direction. After awhile the buzz and the assumption that, as a member of the target demographic, I must be obsessed with, say, N’Sync or Leonardo DiCaprio, began to turn my polite apathy into straight up disgust.

Boy bands never did it for me, although there was an occasional song I was ashamed to admit that I liked; I didn’t see Titanic until forced into the theater in sixth grade, and even then I only teared up when the captain went down with the ship and offended my friends by calling Leo ‘girly’ and cheering when he slid off the debris into the ocean – I’m seeing a pattern here.

The 90’s era boy banders, clean cut Leo, and even the male cast of Twilight are all spoon fed to young girls as appropriate teenage crushes because they’re safe. They’re effeminate, non-threatening, and in some cases, a bit androgynous.

Don't tell me Edward isn't a 'safe' boyfriend - his urge to eat her aside, Edward is constantly restraining Bella's urges, essentially saving her from her own desires.

Part of the draw of Twilight is that Edward is so concerned with Bella’s safety and both of their souls that he’s barely willing to slip her a little tongue until they’re married. You find me a normal, red-blooded teenage boy that’s willing to make the same deal, and I show you a closet case. Tom Cruise, possibly.

So here’s an entire generation of women – and in some cases, their moms – running around defining romance as the willingness to wait until marriage and a propensity for disabling your car so you won’t see other boys (who are willing to give it up). I won’t even get into the blood sucking part.

I hate to imagine their disappointment – sorry, chagrin - when chosen boy not only doesn’t want to lie motionless and stare into their eyes all night long, but actually tries to get into an Edward-worshiper’s pants. As of yet, there is no Twilight-brand pepper spray. That might be for the best, as Twihards would be liable to use it when confronted by your average teenage boy, rather than a vampire.

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Badger or Axe Murderer?

2009-11-04T22:00:00.000-08:00

As much as I love action and adventure movies, my interest has never really spilled over into horror movies. That might have something to do with the slew of torture porn releases that constitute the horror market today – apparently, statistics claim that women are more likely to watch horror movies than men these days. Really, ladies? – and the countless middle school sleepovers I attended that, without fail, included a double dare viewing of some classic horror movie. By the tender age of 13 I’d already been exposed to The Exorcist, Children of the Corn, and the Pit and the Pendulum. And The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It’s going to take more than buckets of red corn syrup to give me the heebs at this point.

There is one horror movie that I’m actually really looking forward to, however. And will be for the foreseeable future because it doesn’t have a release date as of yet, but hopefully getting the word out will speed that up. After the jump, check out the awesome trailer for Tucker & Dale Vs Evil.

It stars Alan Tudyk (I watched V the other night solely because he was in it. Think I’ll be watching the second episode, producers? Bring back Tudyk! Err sorry if you haven’t seen it yet) and Tayler Labine (I’ve mentioned my love for Reaper before and Labine stole the show as Sock). It spoofs the traditional horror trope of sexy but stupid teens who decide to go camping in the forest of Death and Blood and encounter a couple of rednecks. They seem to think they’re in Deliverance, but the rednecks turn out to be our heroes Tucker and Dale (Tudyk and Labine, respectively). Misunderstandings and, I think its safe to say, bloodshed and hilarity ensue. Hopefully, at some point, a bridge gets blown up by some squirrels.

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Space Cowboy

2009-10-27T11:23:00.001-07:00

Uh....yum

Holmes Poster

2009-10-27T11:17:00.000-07:00

I don't care if it has a lame tag line - I'm going to see it anyway.

Fangirl Squealing

2009-10-21T21:54:00.000-07:00

The new Sherlock Holmes trailer is up!

Here was my thought process:

Fuck yeah!
That's Archie in RockNRolla
Mmmmm RDJ
Questionable - but still sexy - British accent
Codependency!
What the eff happened to the dog?
Wait - Irene Adler is American?
Holmes and Watson are a Dickensian Bert and Ernie
And I kind of love it
That part with the hammer played the last time I saw a movie in the theaters - was it Harry Potter? It must have been, but it doesn't seem like a very Harry Pottery preview - and everyone burst into spontaneous applause. Even me.
This is so much better than sparkly vampires
Bitchslap!
I really have no idea what this is about but I'm so going to see it on opening day.

If nothing else, Robert Downey Jr. should be commended for having overcome his early career and going on to become Iron Man, Kirk Lazarus and Holmes, all in a few short years. Bravo sir. Also, I watched the Soloist with my parents and I would like a (personal, heartfelt, possibly naked) apology.

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Reason # 87645 I like to watch things blow up:

2009-10-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

I have the girliest job in the world: I plan weddings for a living. I spend all day listening to people discussing their first dance, their reception color scheme, and what kind of cake they’re going to stuff into each other’s faces. Trust me, you’d want to go home, curl up with a glass of wine, and watch people run from explosions in slo-mo too.

I have no problem with people planning out the minute details of a big, rocking party to celebrate their (supposedly) eternal bond to each other – obviously, or I’d be in the wrong field. No, my issue is with these women – anyone can freak out about their wedding, but its almost always the brides – is that they use their wedding as an excuse to morph into an unrecognizable bitch. With this in mind, here’s my promise to my future husband – whoever that lucky bastard turns out to be.

I, Ariana, vow that –

- I won’t expect you to keep a loving smile plastered on your face if I come walking down the aisle dressed as a five-and-a-half-foot mobile meringue. I promise not to swaddle myself in tulle and expect you not to burst out laughing. Similarly, I also promise not to OD on crystals and glitter to the point that you get bachelor party stripper flashbacks as we’re trying to say our vows.

- I promise not to pout if I don’t get a doorknob-sized engagement ring. Don’t spend months’ worth of paychecks on my rock. Seriously, that’s just a waste of money. Money we could use to go somewhere tropical for our honeymoon and have sex on the beach.

- I don’t really care if you don’t want to debate the relative merits of celadon versus sage linens (or all the other tiny details people lose sleep over). Be as involved in the planning as you want to be, or go watch the game while I negotiate the price of stargazer lilies. You might want to come along to register for gifts though; all I really want is a waffle iron.

- I promise not to insist on some fondant monstrosity for our wedding cake. It doesn’t have to be eight tiers with a frosting monogram and eerie china likenesses of the two of us on top. As long as it tastes good, I’ll be happy. As an addendum – I also promise not to pitch a hissy fit if you smudge my makeup while feeding it to me. If that lipstick lasted through the kiss, we’re doing something wrong.

- I vow not to suddenly grow a Type-A personality when it comes to details. I know just how easily it is for wedding plans to go awry and I have seen some unholy clusterfucks as the result of a simple miscommunication over seating charts or DJ location. The point of a wedding is to have a good time, not melt down into a ball of tears and rage if the napkins are folded the wrong way.

- I won’t insist on some schmoopy power ballad for our first dance. If you’ve asked me to marry you, you know my not-so-secret love for Elvis, but that doesn’t mean we have to sway awkwardly to ‘Fools Rush In’ (I wouldn’t mind, though). I might put my foot down if you want ‘Gold Digger’, but there is no way I’m going to beg for John Mayer either.

- None of this ‘no sex for a month before the honeymoon’ stuff. That’s ridiculous.

- I won’t drag you to wedding fairs. Sure, there’s a ton of free food and loot, but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I’m just going to make a few rounds of the table with the lobster puffs, score some free lipgloss, and laugh at the poor unfortunate souls trying on thousand dollar veils. Come or not; I’d offer to bring you back some cake samples but they’d never last the drive.

- I swear on my credit rating that I won’t buy a ridiculously expensive gown. I’m going to look spectacular, sure, but I don’t need to spend a mortgage payment on some tulle confection to do so. I’m going to go to a lot of boutiques and drink champagne with my girls while I try on the insane ones, but I can promise that I’m not going to follow in the footsteps of every other bride who swears she just wants a simple gown and then start crying at my lacy reflection because *sniff* I look like a princess.

- I’m not going to go into bridezilla mode the minute you get down on one knee. This doesn’t have to be the most stressful stretch of our life together; hell, it shouldn’t be. It helps that I know what I’m doing, sure, but I’m not going to eat, sleep and breath wedding plans until I finally, finally drag you down the aisle and we get the whole thing over with.

- Most importantly, I promise that I’m not going to drastically change the minute we get married. Just because there’s a Mrs. at the front of my name doesn’t mean I’m going to insist you skip Poker and Wings Thursday for Grey’s Anatomy and force you to go antiquing on the weekends. Sure there’s going to be bills to pay and laundry to fold, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do a 180 from the woman you asked to marry you. I don’t see why being a wife should be all that different from being a girlfriend – there’s just a really kickass party somewhere in the middle.

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Murder has never been so sexy

2009-10-05T13:41:00.000-07:00

I’m not so into crime procedurals. Sure, I’ll pass the time with one of the shows with an acronym for a title, but the moment I hear the iconic ‘doink doink’ of a Law & Order episode I scramble for the remote. So it came as a great surprise to me the first time I watched an episode of The Mentalist. And then proceeded to maniacally hunt down the rest of the first season in grainy streaming video and scream at my innocent laptop when the video would stop loading just before I found out who the killer was (hint: its always who Jane says it is! The fun part is watching how he gets there).

What am I talking about, you wonder? Who is this Jane? If you haven’t seen The Mentalist yet, run, don’t walk, to your nearest media outlet and buy the first season. Don’t order it online – the wait for delivery is killing me!

I'm fascinated by the way Patrick Jane (the very sexy Simon Baker. God I love a man who can wear a vest!) solves each case with a blend of Holmesian induction and knowledge that seems to border on psychic. His ability to cut through the layers of human bullshit and see the truth of the situation is brilliant - and I love watching the CBI team's incredulous reactions and eventual frustration that Jane is, once again, right on the money.

Simon Baker plays the role with a sort of childish glee - even his pronouncements of murder take on an excited note, as if he's just so darn happy to be right all the time. The only thing that can needle his composure is the mention of the serial killer Red John and what he did to Jane's family. Then, and only then, do we see a man who has lost everything, who has come out the other side, and who fails to see the importance in the little things that so often irk the rest of us. His flippant attitude is the mask he uses to hide his grief over the murder of his wife and daughter.

The show occasionally cuts away from the action to elucidate on Jane’s psyche with a flashback to his former life as a charlatan psychic. It’s hilarious to see how well he pulls off the slicked back hair and shiny suit. He displays a flippant and contemptuous attitude towards the people who seek out his ‘help’ until his act results in the death of those he holds most dear. While his post-trauma persona rarely takes anything seriously, he treats the grieving families of the victims he investigates with compassion and respect.

The harrowing experience caused him to end his charade as a psychic and to join the California Bureau of Investigation (no, I'd never heard of it either) as a consultant. He approaches each investigation with such a degree of detachment that it seems as if he's a different species altogether.

His coworkers certainly treat him like an alien. The CBI team constantly has to explain his offkey pronouncements and queries to grieving loved ones or baffled law enforcers. He comes up with outrageous schemes - there's no way actual criminal investigators allow their consultants to, say, waltz into a known mobster's house and trick him out of a famous painting - which are part of the charm of the show.

The team tags along behind him providing the traditional investigative aspect of a procedural, but for the most part they just turn him loose and let him do his thing.

I’ve decided I want to be Senior Agent Lisbon when I grow up. She’s tough, sassy, and knows how to handle a tazer. Plus, she seems to be the only person who has any influence over Jane. She treats him with a mix of amused bafflement and the sort of irritation you reserve for your younger brother. When he starts running his mouth off to suspects, she drolly tells them he’s a consultant and watches him flail around the room and make outrageous accusations. He yells for her with the same kind of abandon that a panicked kid calls for their mom.

Of course, I’m sure they’re going to sleep together, say, in the third season? We shall see!

Robin Tunney was looking good in the second season opener, which debuted on Thursday night. They gave her agent Lisbon a sleeker haircut and a bit more makeup – a subtle boost, but she still comes across as some one who, while more attractive than your average woman, is not so buffed and polished that you can’t actually see her fighting crime.

They gave rookie agent van Pelt a bit more of an active role – allowing the CBI newcomer to interrogate the suspects in the murder of the week and drive the van (whooo!) rather than just sit back at the office and Google bad guys.

Besides the routine murder investigation, this episode opened a new arc for the story by continuing with an old arc – Red John. The CBI is still pursuing him but after the disastrous events in the first season finale – go watch it because I’m not telling you nothin’ – the director of their unit is taking Jane and Co. off the case and putting on your average, hard boiled, straight-out-of-central-casting investigator. He doesn’t like Jane. He tells him so point blank over a loaded hot dog and cordially invites the consultant to kiss his ass. Then he proceeds to turn the game right back around and reads Jane like an open book, which our hero does not appreciate.

Jane doesn’t like being taken off the case and pouts like a baby, telling his team that catching Red John is his raison d’etre so he’s leaving them to do their useless murder solving and going back to helping people – by lying about their dead loved ones. Despite the fact that Jane can catch a killer before the opening credits – whereas it takes your average, un-psychic crime team an average of 42 minutes to nail the murderer – Lisbon shakes his hand, pats his ass, and sends him on his way.

Regardless of what their own personal Sherlock is up to, the team has a case to investigate – a woman who stole a million dollars and fled her family, including her cancer stricken son. Then she got dead. Turns out mommy dearest was having an affair, blah blah blah, stole from her employers (printing companies keep a million bucks in their petty cash? Damn, I’m in the wrong industry) and holed up in a crappy apartment a few towns away. Shadiness ensues.

Turns out, without Jane, this is just a show about dead people. Not nearly as much fun. Without him, the crew is stumped and the audience is drifting, so he smarms his way back into their hearts and – you guessed it – brings the killer to light with trickery, confusion, and a killer smile. No, I’m not going to tell you who did it. You have to watch it.

I’m curious to see where they’re going to go with this season’s new plot twist. Obviously, Jane is going to find a way to get back on the Red John case and, because they’re in the title sequence, the rest of his team is going to join him. It’ll be interesting to see if the show will drag out the Red John pursuit across multiple seasons – I’d like to see the killer and the mentalist get closer. Red John’s presence shakes Jane out of his complaisance, ruffles his unbelievably smooth demeanor. That’s when things get truly interesting – Jane gets unhinged and starts screaming for LisBAHN!

Regardless of what happens with Red John, I’ll keep tuning in to see Patrick Jane come up with ever more ridiculously awesome crime-solving shenanigans. Like the time he posed as the ghost of a vengeful arsonist who was slowly picking off his friends one by one – and managed to catch the killer. Or the time he reactivated a defused bomb in order to suss out the killer. Or the – hell, just go watch the show.

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I Have A Secret..

2009-08-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

Girly confession time!
I LOVE Project Runway and I'm thrilled its back.

We'll return to our regularly scheduled programming shortly.

Trailer Trash – ManBot Edition

2009-07-25T23:59:00.000-07:00

Before this, the summer of Really Big Robots and Things Blowing Up, my experience with the Terminator franchise was surprisingly limited for someone who grew up in the 80’s. I have a vague memory of watching Terminator II when my uncle was supposed to be babysitting the kids and interpreted that as ‘expose the little ones to liquid metal murdering rampage’.

Then came the Governator. I’m a proud California citizen but Ahnold in office and Prop 8 are testing that.

Moving on – like Star Trek, my interest in seeing this movie was cultivated mostly by the trailer. Christian Bale in no way hurts, but even I won’t see a movie I’m not interested in solely for a hot man (see: Ugly Truth, The).

I’ve made my disinterest in chick flicks pretty evident by this point, but writing about machismo on a regular basis has gotten me thinking about that aversion. Chick flicks are the cinematic version of romance novels – light and fluffy, and they always end with a wedding. Or an engagement. Or a baby. There’s a built in happy ending factor that can easily become formulaic and twee. I don’t want to see shopping montages or mugging into hairbrushes, thankyouverymuch.

Action movies, on the other hand, have a lot more at stake than romcoms. You know the good guy will most likely survive and the bad guy will most likely die a gruesome death. That’s fairly dependable. Its just that the stakes in these movies aren’t engagement rings or happily ever afters but the fate of the fucking world as we know it. Regardless of who lives or dies, at the end, everything has changed.

The previews for Terminator: Salvation depict a world that has already reached the brink of destruction. Judgment Day has passed, despite the efforts of three other movies. The stakes here are nothing less than the fate of the human race.

Christian Bale narrates in his gruff Americanized accent. He sounds like he’s talking through a mouthpiece and has to huff each breath out of his nose. It works best when he’s shouting, so this is a good role for him.

He explains to us that the rules of the game are changing, that Skynet is taking human prisoners. I’m kind of intrigued – what could the robots want with human prisoners…oh they’re making hybrids. Question answered, don’t need to see movie now.

Here’s a great example of giving away too much in a trailer – the Marcus Wright reveal would have been awesome, had it not been plugged in every trailer that preceded the release. Yes, you want to sucker people into coming to see your movie, but you want to leave a little for them to find out as well. If a preview is a two-minute-long spoilerfest, no one’s going to pony up the cash to watch your movie.

Content aside – the trailer is well put together. It favors a similar build as the Star Trek ones: moody music played over lingering expositional clips, then building tempo and speed until short action packed clips flash one after the other. Climactic explosion. Cut to black. Pithy line. Fade back out. This one uses a Punisher rip off by turning an exploding landscape into a Terminator face.

The tag line reads, ‘The End Begins’. Weirdly enough, Star Trek used one that said, ‘The Future Begins’. Don’t marketing people in Hollywood talk to each other? This is why there always seem to be similar movies coming out at the same time – the summer of asteroids, of sharks, of animated insects.

I went to see Terminator, so the trailer did its job – and some of the movie’s as well.

The movie delivers on what the preview set up – the humans are on the run, John Connor is leading the resistance, but the future of the world is looking pretty bleak. What could have been a big plot twist has already been revealed, so no shock there. Instead of stunned by Marcus’ origin, the audience goes ‘meh’. Any other knock your socks off moments fail to make an appearance.

The pacing of the movie is steady – there are very few dips or peaks in the action. There’s a rhythm to it – action, exposition, action, exposition. Every now and then they mix it up and have people yelling crucial information to each other while dodging maniac robots. It never gives the movie a chance to build suspense, to rocket from complacence into awesome. The battles between humans and machines are fairly satisfying in and of themselves, but they fail to lead up to anything truly worthwhile.

Despite his big reveal, I found Marcus Wright to be the most interesting part of the movie. I think they could have fleshed out his internal struggle between human criminal and resurrected robotic savior. He goes from death row murderer to selfless saint all too quickly.

Instead, the movie lingered on Bale’s Connor. We all know he’s going to be the Jesus of the future, so there’s little suspense there. Even the whole Kyle Reese subplot isn’t all that fraught with tension because the franchise has already wrapped the conception of the messiah in so much frickin time travel paradox that the audiences’ mind just skips right over it. Linger too long and you’re likely to fry a few synapses.

Besides, Connor makes for a fairly melodramatic leader in all of this. The man comes off more as a drama queen than as someone you’d trust to save the human race. I’d rather get that freakishly accurate action figure; at least it doesn’t bitch about Command not paying attention to his humanity saving good looks and stubble. It’s the end of the world, Connor, man up.

Throw in some uneven romantic sub-subplots and a *shocking* lack of tits, and then wrap it all up with an unsatisfyingly open-ended climax.

Dammit, were you not listening to me earlier? The world was supposed to have changed at the end of your movie. This is the formula you’re supposed to follow. Half the paradoxes in the earlier movies resulted because they had to untie the neat little bow the earlier installment tied around its conclusion, but they all had actual endings! You get a sense of resolution, of completion. Its possible to walk back into the series later and listen to them explain how the world got fucked up again, but if its not going to get fixed in the end, what’s the point?

Rather than celebrate the destruction of the machines, Terminator: Salvation basically guarantees that there will be further messing around with the space/time continuum for as long as the money comes in. For the next twelve summers, John Connor will systematically attack a different Skynet base around the world, losing a different body part at each one. The franchise will finally peter out around the time that they have to give him a robotic spleen and he becomes more machine than man and then he’ll start rebuilding all the bases he spent the past decade blowing up and we’ll have a whole new franchise to watch.

Final grade:

The trailer gets a B. It talked me (in a deep, gravelly voice) out of $7.25 and a couple hours of my life and was actually more dramatic and stimulating than the movie. The grade would have been higher but it ripped off what little thunder the movie itself had.

The movie gets a C-, for all the reasons I mentioned already. Had they left out the CGI Ahnold it might have been a little higher, but that disturbed me.

My prophecy of the inevitable conclusion to the franchise gets an A+ because I would totally watch that.

Thanks to Trailer Addict for the Hi-Res trailer. If you haven't seen the movie, feel free to run this on a loop and save yourself some money.

Back home

Take THAT Sparklepires! Wizards For The Win

2009-07-16T23:33:00.000-07:00

Last night a bunch of people dressed up in capes and red striped ties and sat on sidewalks around the country for the opening of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Today my friend and I – since we were done with work early and had time to kill before it was considered an acceptable hour to open a bottle of wine – waltzed into a 3:30 showing without having to wait.

After seeing the movie, I can’t really fault the people napping on the corner.

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince - or as the cool kids are calling it, HPHBP - was phenomenal.

The movie opens with the Chosen One as he was last seen at the climactic battle in the Ministry. Bloody and bruised but vindicated in his assertions of the Dark Lord’s return, Harry is photographed by a phalanx of photographers, not unlike the ones who follow the young stars of this franchise. No one mentions the death of his beloved godfather because this is a kid’s movie. The scene is beautifully set and scored, the camera playing slowly across Harry’s devastated face.

It cuts to a brisk flight throughout modern-day London, the black comet tails of flying Death Eaters accompany the sound of fabric in high winds. I immediately hear the plummet of the first few endless seconds of skydiving and shiver at the comparison.

Even Muggles take notice of the malevolent presence, especially after the Millenium Bridge spanning the Thames unravels dramatically in their wake. I mixed this bridge up with the Ha’Penny Bridge in Dublin the last time I was there and came off like a dumb American. ‘It’s relatively new, right?’ Cue a very nice elderly Irish woman I met on the bus staring at me like I’m an idiot.

Right. Back to the Chosen One, who inexplicably spends a lot of his summer vacation in train stations. I know his home isn’t exactly the most welcoming place, but train stations? With underground restaurants? How is that – oh, there’s a pretty girl. I got you.

Dumbledore doesn’t take the train, but he sure as hell knows how to make an entrance. He regretfully informs Harry that he won’t be getting any tonight, and whisks him off on a mind bending ride to go visit an old professor who has decided to spend the evening kicking it as a purple chair.

He morphs back into a professor, but the purple silk stripes? Totally keeps those. Snazzy pj’s, man. Turns out the professor is a bit of a fame whore so Dumbledore, like any good teacher, leaves his young charge alone with the strange man who likes to spend his evenings as effeminate armchairs.

Harry’s mere presence is enough to entice said armchair out of hiding to return to Hogwarts, because siding with a guy who is essentially Obi Wan will in no way piss off those on the Dark Side. I think he’s blinded by the glare of Harry’s fame. Sneaky introduction of Regulus Black there, folks.

Apologizing again for denying him the chance to get lucky, Dumbledore thanks Harry for his help and dumps him in a convenient swamp a couple of miles from the Weasley’s house. Walking builds character, I guess.

Did the Weasleys always live in the middle of Iowa, or did I just not remember that? Oh that’s a dramatic cornfield you say? Carry on.

Ginny immediately recognizes Harry’s owl (that’s how you know its love, kids) and then Ron and Hermione appear on suspiciously close parts of the stairway. Your mom is RIGHT THERE, Ron. You might want to cool it.

For reasons not entirely explained, Hermione has been hanging out at Ron’s house for the past few days. They weren’t even sure everyone would be going back to Hogwarts, you know with the return of the big bad and all, but how can you not trust Dumbledore’s beard? That’s a sincere beard, right there. His charred hand is another story.

Narcissa Malfoy, wife to an incarcerated husband and mother to a doomed son, goes stalking through the rain in some absolutely killer heels, her batshit crazy sister in hot pursuit. They turn up on Wormtail’s doorstep and Snape makes a dramatic entrance as only Alan Rickman can. Dumbledore’s not the only one with skills.

The two sisters do share some resemblance, as Narcissa has a Cruella De Vil hairdo going on that hints at a bit of the family crazy. She remains cool and grieving while Bellatrix oozes around the parlor, mocking Snape. Helena Bonham Carter is so perfect for this role – switching from sibilant to purring in a matter of seconds.

She taunts Snape into making an Unbreakable Vow to help Narcissa’s son, Draco. Bellatrix words it so that Snape has no choice but to agree to carry out the mysterious task or blow whatever cred he has with the dark side. Alan Rickman’s subtle horror at the realization of what she’s trapped him into is brilliantly underplayed. This man should be in every movie ever made.

Young Malfoy has managed to make a pretty good head start into the family business of being creepy, as the Hogwarts Scooby Gang sees him skulking around the seedy side of Diagon Alley. Despite being, you know, wizards, they climb up onto a roof just in time to get a glimpse of Draco stroking a cabinet. Whatever churns your butter, boy.

Harry, conspiracy theorist extraordinaire, is dead sure that Malfoy is up to something sneaky and dark. Having heard his suspicions about everyone from Snape to Peeves the poltergeist, Ron and Hermione just smile and nod until he shuts up.

Not discouraged by their lack of cooperation, Harry decides to use his invisibility cloak and spy on Malfoy, who appears to have heretofore unrevealed senses and detects Harry. He lets precious little vital information slip, but the kid’s pretty shady, so I’ll side with Harry. Especially when Malfoy knocks the invisible Harry off the luggage rack and breaks his nose.

Luckily Luna was on the trail of imaginary creatures and stumbles across the immobilized Harry. His friends are relieved to see him turn up in the Great Hall but as Ginny hilariously sighs, ‘why is he always covered in blood?’ Ron makes the excellent point that at least this time it appears to be his blood.

Dumbledore starts the school year off on a properly depressing note by going on and on about evil and how its favorite weapon just happens to be underage British school children and sends everyone off to what will surely be pleasant dreams.

The following scene in the halls, with Harry and Ron smirking at the short, clueless first years, reminds me strongly of the time I spent at a school in England. It was an all girls school, but I can easily picture one of the teachers ordering a student to force another to go to class because they look ‘far too happy’. Ahhh, sixth form.

In Potions class we’re introduced to two major plot points – the book of the titular Half Blood Prince, and Lavender Brown. Lavender is all jittery and looks like she’s making an O face at the boiling pot of love potion; I’d stick with the book. Its scribbled advice earns Harry another plot point: a vial of lucky potion.

In case you thought this movie would be about a hormone fraught year at wizard school, think again. Dumbledore ushers the plot back in, revealing to Harry that they will be witnessing memories that pertain to the rise of Voldemort in the hopes that they will find the key to defeating him. The Pensieve 2.0 is awesome and gravity defying.

Voldemort started out as a pasty, sickly looking kid named ~~James~~ Tom. How anyone doubted that this kid would grow up to be the terror of both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, I’ll never know.

Harry, who has caught on to how this whole ‘save the world from the bad guy before finals’ formula by now, also catches onto the fact that Slughorn is important for more than being overstuffed and comfortable. Time for some serious ass kissing.

But first: Quidditch! Ron and some blonde guy – who will probably go on to his own franchise and then have to cower from fans for the rest of his life – face off to see who gets to be the Keeper. Hermione doesn’t seem to have any scruples when sexual frustration comes into play, because she jinxes the blonde kid into missing a goal, securing Ron a spot on the team. Don’t worry, karma’s a bitch.

While everyone else is having fun on broomsticks, Draco – who has taken to wearing black, tailored suits because that is in no way suspicious – uncovers another cabinet in Hogwarts’ handy secret room. Either he’s developed a sudden interest in carpentry, or some inventive rule breaking is about to go down.

Ron’s head immediately starts swelling with victory, so he sits on the couch looking proud of himself while the rest of the Scooby Gang argue about Harry’s textbook and the edge its giving him in Potions class. Come on, the guy has to go head to head with Voldemort in nearly every movie. I think he deserves all the breaks he can get.

He sure as hell doesn’t have any in the romance department: after several years of following him like a puppy, Ginny has moved on and is now making out with boys in bars (that was fast). Harry forces down his rage just in time to schmooze a slightly tipsy Slughorn. Draco lurks around in his black suit some more. Nothing to see here, folks.

On the walk back, Hermione tries to distract the guys with seemingly boozy behavior but sobers up the minute they catch a glimpse of Katie Bell, another student writhing in the snow. She is suddenly whisked up into the air, mouth open in a silent scream, before plummeting back to the ground and lying deathly still.

Hagrid scoops her up and orders the others not to touch the necklace lying in the snow. Snape, who appreciates fine jewelry as only a sinister bad ass can, pronounces Katie lucky to be alive. Her friend confesses that the necklace was intended for Dumbledore, but it seems a little flamboyant for his tastes.

Harry has concluded that Malfoy’s lurking meant he was up to something, and accuses him on the spot. Even McGonagall, who is rocking some kind of power bitch wizard robe, tells him to stop being such a little McCarthy and shut it.

The entire point of the next scene is lost in the utter terror of watching the big blonde kid attempting to seductively lick chocolate off his finger. This is a kid’s movie!

Since it is, they circle back around to non-threatening Quidditch, a sport that just happens to be played while straddling a giant broomstick. What? Am I the only one who noticed that?

Ron, believing that Harry has taken up the tradition of every great coach and player and juiced him up with lucky potion, wins the match and discovers that being the hero comes with perks. And by perks, I mean groupies. The little blonde girl with the O face throws herself at him now that he’s successful and all. She’s annoying as all hell, but I’ve got a thing for gingers too so I guess I can’t blame her.

Hermione, who liked him even when he was just a doofus, tries to distract herself by conjuring up canaries. She and Harry have a heart to heart about loving unavailable people and watching them mack on others. In a single scene, the two of them manage to cover their romantic woes and comfort each other. The timing in this installment is impeccable. Sure, there’s a lot of lingering over teenage relationships but this is a movie about realizing what’s worth fighting for when there is such relentless evil in the world.

Since Hermione’s canaries failed to impress her feelings upon Ron, she goes with the oldest trick in the book and tries to make him jealous. She’s taking the big blonde kid (who is unfortunately named Cormac) to a party that Ron isn’t even invited to. That will show him! She warns Harry about girls that are only interested in him because of that whole thwarting evil thing and makes sure to keep his ego in check. I’m impressed with how all the kids have grown into their roles. Rupert Grint has the best reactions, and Daniel Radcliffe manages to make scripted speech sound organic and effortless. Emma Watson has been spot on for most of the franchise and just keeps getting better.

Humbled by Hermione’s emphatic – but loving – beating, Harry asks Luna to the party. Girl really knows how to rock the quirky. He finds Hermione hiding behind a gauze curtain almost immediately. She looks a little worse for the wear and it turns out Cormac’s other seduction tactics involve mistletoe and, it seems, a lot of tongue. She ducks out right as Cormac comes in. This guy could win a gold medal in douchebaggery.

Malfoy, decked out in festive holiday black, is hauled into the party. He claims he was lurking three floors and two wings away because he wanted to crash the party. Snape, who is also in holiday black, escorts him out and roughs him up a little. Malfoy refuses any aid, since he was chosen for this job. Champion eavesdropper Harry hears the whole thing because otherwise, there wouldn’t be much of a plot.

Ron earns the Captain Obvious tights when he explains the whole Unbreakable Vow thing to Harry. He proves that he’s not entirely oblivious by breaking up some kind of previously unknown mating ritual involving Christmas desserts that was going on between Harry and his sister. The word to any man’s heart is, of course, ‘pie?’ And the best cockblock is a brother wedging himself in between the two. It helps to soften the blow if said brother is also bearing pie.

Harry tries to convince the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, who like to gather at holiday celebrations, of his suspicions of Malfoy. Lupin writes them off as a grudge but, as Tonks explains, it’s almost his time of the month. Mr. Weasley provides some crucial information by telling Harry that he figured out that Draco was checking out a Vanishing Cabinet at the Evil Objects Emporium way back in the beginning, but they only have the one so clearly, he can’t cause any mayhem with that.

Harry just can’t seem to catch a break – his next encounter with Ginny involves her in a bathrobe, but this time they’re interrupted by Death Eaters storming the house. Bellatrix riles him up by shouting ‘I killed Sirius Black!’ While I understand that having Harry mope through the entire movie isn’t very visually interesting, he does spend most of the book tormented over the death of his beloved godfather. Other than the grieving expression on his face at the very beginning, Bella’s taunt is the only mention of this driving force of his need to best Voldemort. I thought this was a serious oversight on the part of the filmmakers. They needed to include some mention, some outburst of anger and grief and guilt on Harry’s part.

Despite being underage and horny, Harry goes charging into the wheat after them, dodging ghostly baseball players as he runs. Ginny tears off after him, leaving anyone that might be useful back at the house. Of course they get ambushed after much running around in the wheat, but the Order members track them down in time for the Death Eaters to double back and blow up the house. Back through the field!

Some people will gripe that this scene never took place in the book, but its an example of taking events that work really well in the structure of a something-hundred page long book and cinematically translating them. Here’s an attack by the Death Eaters, something that Harry only hears about in the book. By shifting the attack to Harry, the filmmakers keep the focus on him and move along the plot. They could have made the scene a bit more climactic, but there you go.

Dumbledore doesn’t seem fazed that his prize pupil and only weapon against evil almost got killed over the break, because he has more memories to watch. Riddle at sixteen was unimposing and not nearly as cute as he was the first time he attacked Harry. Then he opens his mouth and manages to give the audience the heebs. This is what Justin Long would be if he were evil. Harry watches young Riddle question Slughorn, who is having none of it. Of course, that’s only because Slughorn tampered with the memory. Because nothing says ‘innocent’ like messing with things in your own mind.

Harry returns to his dorm to find Ron staring dreamily at the moon. Again, Rupert and Daniel display incredible dexterity of expression and delivery. The sheer horror on Harry’s face when the love struck Ron climbs on to the narrow bed beside him is hilarious. Don’t worry, this isn’t that kind of movie. Ron got slipped a love potion intended for the Chosen One and Harry sees his in to the wary Slughorn.

He tows his addled friend to the office where Ron proceeds to basically dry hump everything in sight, including Slughorn. Fed up with the kid on wizard E, Slughorn puts aside his fear of Harry and his probing questions, mixes the ginger an antidote and offers the restored Ron a stiff drink.

Ron immediately starts frothing at the mouth. Slughorn wibbles to himself while Harry frantically rifles through the potion kit until he finds a bezoar, which only makes sense if you read the book or paid really close attention to the first movie. Here we get another instance of the tense timing in this movie, as the camera lingers on the choking Ron long enough to have the viewer holding their breath. He regains his – this is a kid’s movie – and blames it all on girls.

While Ron recovers in the hospital wing, we get CSI – Hogwarts edition as the staff tries to figure out just how Ron got poisoned under the watchful and alcohol providing supervision of Slughorn. Seems said professor got into a bottle of mead he was intending to give to Dumbledore. Before the headmaster can ask just why he was supposed to receive a bottle of poisoned booze for Christmas, Lavender bursts into the room and the teachers all boggle at the teen angst smackdown between her and Hermione. Rickman looks particularly disdainful and, maybe, a little intrigued.

Ron settles it all by murmuring Hermione’s name in his sleep, which he conveniently forgets when he’s awake. He does wonder why his ex girlfriend is staring at him like she wants to gut him with her soup spoon though.

Bravo to the filmmakers for their beautiful, brooding portrayal of Draco. Every scene or glimpse of him is desaturated, striking, and underscored by haunting music. There have been many scenes with him by this point but they’re so sensory it’s impossible to transcribe them. His visits to the Vanishing Cabinet have escalated his frustration and despair. This time, when the little yellow bird he sends through dies, he bursts into hopeless tears. Tom Felton, like the rest of the cast, has grown immensely as an actor. He balances determination and despair so keenly, managing to convey the utter dread he’s operating under without saying a word.

Katie Bell is back, alive and clueless as to who hexed her. Her return causes Draco to turn even paler, however, and the always suspicious Harry follows him from the dining hall.

Draco retreats to a lavatory to cry again – deep, wracking sobs that are not the product of a heartless killer – until he is interrupted by Harry. He downplays his antihero status by firing first, and the boys proceed to blow the hell out of the bathroom until Harry tries a spell he found in his mysterious potions book. It knocks Draco out cold as the pool of water in which he lies turns red with his blood.

Snape swoops past the stunned Harry and does his best to reverse the damage. Stricken, Harry agrees to his friends’ pleas that he get rid of the book. Ginny goes with him to hide it in the Room of Requirement. I was hoping for a glimpse of the tiara that proves pivotal in the final book, but they do hear an odd fluttering noise from within the vanishing cabinet. When Harry opens it, a small, sooty bird flies out.

Ginny orders Harry to close his eyes while she hides the book. With this on her side, she leans in and kisses him. They could totally take advantage of the fact that they’re in an unreachable room, but this is a kid’s movie.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for innuendo – Harry misunderstands when Ron asks if they ‘did it’. Hide the book, dirty mind. Slughorn stops dead at the sight of them and backtracks, which leads Ron to ask if he’s had any luck getting the memory.

Luck…leads Harry back to the little bottle of lucky potion he won. One swallow urges him down to Hagrid’s hut. He encounters Slughorn on the way and a combination of the buoyancy of his lucky attitude and a chance for Radcliffe to act rakish for once convince the professor to join him.

They’ve arrived at a particularly tragic time because Hagrid’s beloved, murderous pet spider has just kicked it. Slughorn sees the monstrous body and immediately his eyes light up with little Galleon signs. There’s a part about pincers here that you have to see. Radcliffe seems like he’s having a lot of fun and is basically playing ‘lucky’ as ‘a bit tipsy’. This sees to inspire the adults, who proceed to get sloppy. Slughorn’s inebriation allows Harry to pull the old ‘give me your memory or my mother – who gave you a fish – will have died in vain’ guilt trip. It works.

We see that Teen Dream Voldemort asked Slughorn about Horcruxes, which I could never figure out how to pronounce until now. Since you were wondering, a Horcrux is an object in which a wizard has concealed part of their soul. The only way to split your soul to create one is to commit murder. The angle of Riddle’s questioning is whether a soul can be split more than once, particularly into seven pieces, since it’s an important magical number. Slughorn, instead of being shocked by the line of questioning, just goes along until the talk turns to the act of creating a Horcrux. It’s purely hypothetical? Then speculate away, homicidal young man! While this conversation is going on, Riddle is caressing a black ring that’s especially significant to people who have read the book.

Dumbledore has the ring, now cracked, along with the diary Harry destroyed way back in movie two. It seems that these are two of the seven Horcruxes, and they now know exactly how many there are. All of them must be destroyed before Voldemort himself can die, so Harry has a lot of work cut out for him and only ~~one~~ two movies left to do it in.

They don’t explicitly make the connection between the ring and Dumbledore’s withered hand, but the moment Harry touches it, we see a flashback of the boy Riddle, as well as the ‘man’ he becomes. Prominently featured in the flashback is a postcard in his orphanage room of a craggy cliffside. I’m going to go with Wales. It seems sort of ominous.

Dumbledore tells Harry he can come with him on a Horcrux destroying mission, as long as Harry pledges to follow everything Dumbledore tells him, up to and including ‘hide ineffectually while I get killed’. Harry agrees.

They zoom off to the postcard cliff, and epic music swells so we know it’s important. There’s a cave in the rock that you have to injure yourself to get past, and everyone in the theater with me winces as Dumbledore slices his injured hand to pay the toll in blood.

The woman behind me rachets up the annoying at this point – she’s been explaining the plot to her husband so far but now she’s just talking to herself. My dad would wait to go to all the movies with me so he could lean over and ask me questions about various plot holes, but we wouldn’t go until the movie had been out for months so we wouldn’t bother anyone. Way to do it on opening day, lady. At this point she’s just going ‘Oh yeah!’, ‘Oh my gosh!’ and *GASP* any time anything happens.

‘Oh yeah!’ Harry helps Dumbledore pull a boat out of the lake, which takes them to a crystalline island in the center. There’s a large basin at the center, filled with liquid that Dumbledore determines must be drunk. He orders Harry to make him finish it and I start cringing in advance.

‘I forgot about that!’ Dumbledore starts whimpering and moaning as soon as he drinks the potion and Harry is forced to press the rest on him. This scene is as horrifying to watch was it was to read and our whole row is cowering behind their fingers. Except for Exposition Lady, who continues to narrate to her husband who is, apparently, blind and hard of hearing.

‘He has to finish it all. There’s a locket,’ she stage whispers over Dumbledore shouting ‘Kill me!’ Deep breaths, ignore her, focus on the movie. ‘Ooooooh, this is dramatic.’ Yeah, it is lady, so shut up!

Dumbledore begs for water but the moment Harry goes to get some from the lake, an emaciated arm grabs him. Everyone in the theater does the Carrie jump. From behind me, ‘that was scary!’ You’re paying for my ticket, bitch.

Harry wrestles with Gollum-looking undead creatures while Dumbledore continues to whimper pitifully. As Harry is dragged under the water, however, we see fire bloom on the surface, brilliant tendrils seeking below to incinerate the undead adversaries.

Topside, Dumbledore has conjured a firestorm, raging across the lake to destroy the Inferi and clear a path for them to escape. They’ve paired the action with the perfect music this time around: the scope of the scene is sweeping and dramatic.

Back at Hogwarts, Malfoy has made a full recovery and his sneaky plan is in effect. Death Eaters stream throguh the Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes, arriving at Hogwarts just as Harry and Dumbledore return.

Dumbledore, weakened and tired, sends Harry for Snape. Before he can go down the stairs of the astronomy tower, Harry hears people on their way up. Dumbledore orders him to hide. Apparently the Blind Allegiance Covenant is still in place, because Harry goes below without questioning.

He stands there patiently while Draco emerges and holds Dumbledore at wand-point. He kind of aims lamely through the floorboards while Draco monologues about his assignment to kill Dumbledore. He just waits while the Death Eaters storm the platform and surround his beloved mentor, and Snape appears and holds a finger to his lips. Sure, because you ever listened to him before.

And then – well, as a crazy man once told everyone before they had a chance to read the book – Snape kills Dumbledore. No really. He blasts him off the tower and everything. Dumbledore goes into a slo-mo fall. Bellatrix, exultant, casts the Dark Mark off the tower, a sign that murder has been committed. But he can’t really be dead, right? This is…a kid’s movie?

It takes his headmaster being blown off the tower to mobilize Harry, who chases the Death Eaters through the castle as they wreak havoc. Malfoy tags along, stricken with the reality of what just happened. Bellatrix, who wavers between gleefully evil child and purposefully evil adult, smashes everything in sight and cackles delightedly. When Harry attacks them at Hagrid’s hut, she only leaves petulantly after Snape affirms that ‘he is for the Dark Lord to deal with.’

Enraged, Harry tries the spell he used on Malfoy, only to have Snape turn it back. Furious but still ice cold, the erstwhile professor reveals himself as the Half-Blood Prince and the creator of the spell. Bereft of even the guidance of a school textbook, Harry lies in a defeated heap on the ground, allowing Snape to get away (where the hell was your back up, man? I believe an epic fight was scheduled for, oh, right around now).

Dumbledore lies at the foot of the tower, surrounded by his bereaved students and faculty. Harry makes his way through the crowd to Dumbledore’s side, where he finally succumbs to the horror he has witnessed. Ginny joins him, letting him cry onto her shoulder after he feels, in vain, for a heartbeat. One by one the watchers lift their lit wands to dispel the Dark Mark still hovering over the scene of the crime.

The last scenes only reaffirms what everyone thought was impossible: that Dumbledore is truly dead. His wand and spectacles lie on a table in his old office, and his slumbering portrait adorns the wall. Power bitch McGonagall softens enough to tell Harry that he meant a lot to Dumbledore who only wanted to keep exposing his top student to danger until he or his immensely powerful archenemy bit it.

Wondering about those loose ends? Here’s some exposition to tide you over until 7 part 1 and 7 part deux. The locket? Was a fake. Some asshat named RAB stole the original in the hopes of destroying it, but what he really did was kill Dumbledore. Jerk.

Harry announces his plan to skip school the following year in order to search for the Horcuxes. Without consulting Ron, Hermione signs both of them up. Hope you like camping, guys.

Fawkes the phoenix soars away from them, singing his last lament. Harry looks over the castle that has been his only home and remarks, with the heartbreak of one who knows they have to leave the place they love, how beautiful it is.

Fin

So I really, really liked this. The quality of the acting and cinematography made it easier to relinquish what had happened in the books and just appreciate what was on the screen.

In college I took a class on adapting novels into movies, and the final required us all to choose a short story and adapt it into a screenplay. That shit is hard! And those were only 50 some odd page stories, not seven hundred plus installations in a series in which seemingly off hand moments will turn out to be pivotal in the finale. Working with the Harry Potter material – and around the manic fanbase – must be a logistical minefield.

I can understand that edits were necessary to keep the movie under a five-hour running time. Deciding which scenes can be cut is one of the first steps in adapting a novel, but there were a few points that I thought were left out to the movie’s detriment.

I already mentioned the lack of attention to Sirius’ death. This is a major point in the book, as Harry is distant and angry even towards his best friends. Movie!Harry was downright cheerful. While I understand toning down the mourning in your family movie, there should have at least been a mention, a dramatic scene where Harry flips his shit and rages at the loss of the last member of his family.

Then there was the end: I realize that there’s a climactic battle at the end of the last book/movie, but without any sort of mention in this one, the Death Eaters just sort of wandered into Hogwarts because they could. The tension in the last scene between Harry and Snape was missing – he chases them down in a fury because he just witnessed Snape heartlessly kill an old man, and his friends surge into battle along with him. In this version, there’s just some running.

The biggest issue to me was the scene on the astronomy tower between Draco and Dumbledore. The dialogue, the tone were great except for one glaring exception – there’s no way that a freely mobile Harry would have watched while Dumbledore was threatened, cornered, and then murdered. There’s even less of a chance that Harry wouldn’t have tried to attack Snape the minute he saw him pointing a wand at his head, rather than stay quiet at his behest. The only reason Harry doesn’t act in the book is because he’s immobilized; having him stand around and watch Dumbledore die makes absolutely no sense.

Issues like that aside, this was by far one of the most visually striking entries in the series. I hope they keep the cinematographer for the next two, because every scene was crisp and flawlessly shot. The pacing and balance of the lighthearted developments with the darker elements of the plot were well handled, creating a movie that moved well and provided most of the crucial information. My dad would be totally lost, most likely, but I think he just likes having me explain to him about the wizards and wands and oh my god I feel nerdy.

Excuse me.

*Ducks into the next theater to stare at Ryan Reynolds' abs and regroup*

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Trailer Trash - Maiden Voyage Edition

2009-07-11T14:36:00.000-07:00

Ahhh summer…the perfect time to spend long, hot days inside a frigidly air conditioned theater watching things blow up. Summer is inarguably the domain of the blockbuster, a time when chick flicks and dramas don’t stand a chance against heroes, explosions, and a variety of homicidal robots.

Summer is when the studios make back all the money they lost on things with Jonas Brothers and Renee Zellweger, and as any Michael Bay hopeful worth his C4 knows, go big – or go home.

How do you get an audience jacked up enough to part with ten fifty and a gloriously sunny day? With the right trailer, of course!

The trailer has become nearly as much of an art form as the movie these days (argue about calling anything that has the potential to include Brett Ratner an ‘art form’ elsewhere), as they are responsible for filling seats and ensuring that every 80’s toy based movie gets at least six sequels to further dumb down the movie going masses. Somewhere a studio exec is rubbing his hands together and cackling with glee.

We’ve gone through half the summer already, which means half the big popcorn flicks have already opened, dominated the box office, and sold a shit load of merchandise. It’s time to see how they stack up against their short attention span counterparts, whether the movie lived up to the hype, or whether you’d be better off running the trailer on a loop on youtube for two hours and change.

Since it was the movie that spawned this blog in the first place, let’s start with Star Trek.

J.J. Abrams kicked off his rather genius marketing campaign with a teaser trailer of the construction of the Enterprise. All it took were some lingering shots of welded metal and a nation of Trek fans started salivating. It wasn’t until the feature trailer that the rest of America started paying attention.

This is a superbly crafted trailer. That might seem a tad overzealous, but it got me to buy a ticket and I’ve already confessed to being clueless about Star Trek, so well done there.

We’re immediately tipped off that this is an origin story and given snippets of the rise of two of the central characters: Kirk, and Spock. Already the newbies feel like they can watch this movie, that they can come into the series at this point without being hopelessly lost. Diehard fans will chuckle smugly at the references to the original series and dust off their Klingon forehead ridge for opening night. There’s the risk that they’ll be outraged by scenes of Spock kicking Kirk’s ass and cry ‘inconsistency’, but that didn’t seem to affect the take at the box office.

Whoever cut the trailer knows how to set the pace: they led viewers in with the extended Kirk sequence, building the narrative and introducing us to the brooding hero, and then quickly increased the pace. What follows are short, adrenaline packed clips of the film, ramping up the anticipation of the audience.

We catch a glimpse of an epic space battle and then – cut to black. ‘The wait is over’, Nero intones, the perfect, eerie counterpart to the frenetic montage that preceded it. The tone is set, the audience hooked.

What clinched it for me was Simon Pegg.

Another version of the trailer focuses on Kirk and his destiny.

Like the previous trailer, this one has a slow build up, but favors strung together moments that give an overview of the plot. When Nero’s voice over of the day of reckoning accompanies a shot of an imploding planet, the audience knows what the heroes are up against. This one doesn’t sacrifice action, but combines smoother transitions with haunting music that steadily builds the drama. I’m a sucker for music in trailers – the right music can make or break the entire tone and drama of the preview. Star Trek got it right.

Fans still hung up on breaks with the original story should take note of Nero foreshadowing the alternate timeline plot in the trailer.

Plus it has Kirk taking the captain’s chair. Mmmm.

So how does the movie fare compared to the trailers?

As I’ve already said, I thought the movie was an incredible example of a summer blockbuster. It didn’t sacrifice plot for action, or vice versa, and it managed to skillfully introduce a host of characters to newcomers and reintroduce them to diehards. It wasn’t necessary to be familiar with the origin to enjoy it, but it also contained self-referential moments that weren’t lost on the loyal fans.

The subtle reference to the alternate timeline was a masterful inclusion in the trailer. It wasn’t something I caught before, but by including it in the preview the plot twist feels less like it was thrown in to explain continuity errors. This was done purposefully to welcome in new fans and to open opportunities for a new series. Well-played.

The trailers accurately portrayed the grand destinies that both Kirk and Spock were struggling to meet, and gave us glimpses of the villain and his motives. The audience gets a sense of the movie going in and, based on personal experience and a host of reviews, did not leave dissatisfied.

The final verdict:

A’s for the trailers and the movie, as well as to J.J. Abrams and his crew for being the latest to reboot a beloved franchise without making anyone cry. I’ll see you at the next one.

Thanks to Trailer Addict for the Hi-Res Star Trek trailer.

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Everybody Loves A Bad Boy

2009-06-26T19:53:00.000-07:00

After a mysterious and not terribly illuminating turn as Lost’s Jacob, Mark Pellegrino is turning in his angelic white shirt (or wife beating fists and syringe, if you watch Dexter) for a pair of horns and a pointy tale as Lucifer on the CW’s Supernatural. I’m sure this is very exciting for fans of the show. I’ve never watched it, but cool. Most things that are possessed by the CW don’t terribly interest me.

Supernatural seems to be the masculine equivalent of Charmed, with a formulaic eye-candy-and-demons plot. It’s good eye candy – mmmm, Jensen Ackles, whoever you are – but I like a little more substance with my studly men. I’m probably in the lower percentile of women who think that because the show has been on the CW for roughly a lifetime in TV terms, so well done there.

Back to the point of this whole post, which is: Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Prince of Darkness, old Nick, my roommate John, take your pick.

The original fallen angel seems to feature a lot more in popular culture than his bearded, nightshirted counterpart. Maybe it’s considered less blasphemous (blasphemy, blaspheyou, blaspheverybodyintheroom) to give him a face and a personality and have him interact with mere mortals. Unless of course, this is Joan of Arcadia, in which case God is a hot guy, or a lunch lady, and then you get cancelled. Stick with the bad guy, is what I’m saying.

He’s appeared in countless books, movies and TVshows; he’s had more incarnations than Madonna, and (I think) he’s one of the most interesting characters to play around with. So what I’d like to know is, which one is your favorite? What incarnation of the ultimate bad guy is most interesting or appealing or spinetinglingly familiar?

There are two that particularly interest me.

The first is Ray Wise’s brilliant Devil in the recently cancelled series Reaper. Why, CW? Were there not enough sordid love triangles for you? Why?

Anyway. Pour one out for Reaper. Ray played Lucifer as a perpetually amused prankster, a ladies man who went by the ignominious cover ‘Jerry’, and occasionally, but only rarely, as a true bad ass. He made Sam Oliver’s life hell on earth, what with the soul bounty hunting, the frequent reality twisting field trips, and a constant crimp in his love life. This was all before the Darth Lucifer revelation that he is, in fact, Sam’s father. I was particularly amused by their aside that there are portals to the netherworld in places that are literally ‘hell on earth’. The most prominent one was the DMV.

If you’ve never watched the show, I highly recommend it. I was going to do a piece on it at the end of the series, but by the time I had nursed my grief, the moment had kind of passed. Aside from the gleeful demon running the show, Reaper featured a trio of loveable and ridiculous guys and a couple of bad ass girls. The three guys are so codependent they can barely tie their shoes alone, let alone hunt down souls, and Ben and Sock frequently joke about their 'relationship'. I have a weird soft spot for loveable and ridiculous men. I grew up around them. These guys know how to do it right. Andie, Sam's love interest and partner in demon catching, can pull of shenanigans with the best of them and really knows how to take down a demon. I'd be her friend on the strength of her work fort alone. These are people I’d like to hang out with, as opposed to say, the rumormongers on Gossip Girl. It was witty, it featured brilliant demons played by Michael Ian Black and Ken Marino, and Ray Wise was the effing Devil, and the stupid CW cancelled it. So consider this your swan song, Reaper. Stay fluffy, Sock’s hair.

*tear*

Moving on – other than the menacing comic genius that was Ray Wise, my absolute favorite take on the devil is whatever seems to come out of Neil Gaiman’s head. I’m talking the conflicted and musically talented Prince of Hell in Sandman, the inquistive and compassionate Morning Star in his short story Murder Mysteries, and the brief but truly awesome appearance of the original rebel at the end of Good Omens. Cheers to you, Gaiman, for your three incredible and varied takes on one very complicated deity. Out of those, my favorite is probably from Murder Mysteries, which is one of the most fascinating takes on the origins of love and the fall of Lucifer that I’ve ever read. Is it weird that that subject fascinates me? Talk about sympathy for the devil. Now I’m a little worried.

What do you think? Are you a fan of Jack Nicholson’s impish devil, eerie little Damian, or some demonic incarnation I’ve never even heard of? Sound off in the comments.

Honorable mention goes to Azrael in Dogma. Jason Lee is one hell of a ‘fucking demon’, and his performance – and the movie – is one of my all-time favorites.

And sorry, John, for mocking you about your weird little devil horn. I hope it goes away soon, but it makes for a good story!

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I'd Do Dirty Things To Harrison Ford (Earmuffs, Dad)

2009-06-23T00:33:00.000-07:00

Let’s go back to a simpler time in history, a better time, a time before the childhood-raping frightfest that was Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Yes They Are Actual Fucking Aliens.

So, like, last May.

One of my best guy friends is a lifelong devotee of Indy and his sexy explorer ways. Ok, the sexy part is my addition, but I think deep down, he agrees with me. We’re talking fedora-wearing, bullwhip-owning loyalty. The kid once staged an homage to Temple of Doom in a supermarket parking lot with shopping carts. Needless to say, we’ve set a wedding date.

In a move that might make me the best future wife ever, I got us tickets to the opening day of Indy 4. Or, as we dubbed it later, over many pitchers of Sam Summer, a word that can only be described as the phonetic pronunciation of deep rooted grief and despair. We never spoke of it again.

While wasting time on the internet last week, I come across the announcement that there will be an Indy 5. By announcement, I mean Shia LeBouf (? I don’t care about spell checking him) revealing that my worst nightmare is coming true and they’re fishing for a plot for the next movie. By god, if that plot somehow involves psychic space knights or sharks, I will end up in jail. Probably for burning an Ewok. They roam free-range on Lucas’s ranch, right?

While not quite as emotionally invested as Drinky McBullwhip up there (his loved ones will be sending you his rehab bills, Lucasfilm), I walked out of the movie with the desire to erase the past two hours of my life, preferably with a brick or other large blunt object.

Indy was my idol growing up. Besides the fact that I would absolutely go back in time and do dirty things to a Raiders-era Harrison Ford, I loved the adventure and mythical scope of the films. I watched them with my dad on lazy Sunday afternoons, first on grainy VHS, then on the crisp, four disk DVD set we got him one Father’s Day (I refused to buy him the new one this year for Christmas. The man has been through enough). My neighbor and I would watch them every time they came on TNT and then reenact them in our tree fort. We restaged them so every one included Marion Ravenswood. I refused to play Willie (shrieky) or Nazi Elsa (shrieky and evil), and Ravenswood was the only female worth bringing back, so at least they got that right in the bastard fourth.

Putting aside the young sidekick – step away from the fedora, Shia – and the effing aliens plot, the mind controlling skulls, Cate Blanchett’s Boris Badenov accent and the CGI monkeys, the biggest issue for me was seeing Indy age.

I’m not of the school of thought that believes actors past a certain age should only play inappropriate grandparents, straight-laced police chiefs or killjoy administrators, but seeing Indiana Jones, idol of my childhood, limp up a hill to gaze at a nuclear sunrise was traumatizing.

It might seem like overreacting, but the movie struck a different chord with me than most: in the space between the Last Crusade and that which we will not speak of, my dad was diagnosed with stage four prostate cancer. He’s aged over twenty years in the last decade and my family is still struggling to come to terms with the fact that he most likely won’t make it through this year, let alone another ten.

Watching Indiana creak up that hill had the same effect on me as watching my dad try to get up from the couch. In that moment, a man I worshiped throughout my formative years went from heroic to frail, from invincible to far too breakable. It symbolized for me just what I’ve lost – the abrupt shift from the prime of my father’s life to its twilight, in just a handful of years.

Doubtless I’m the only moviegoer that experienced this particular reaction to the film, but I believe the repercussions for the rest of the theater were similar. The bastion of strength and machismo we grew up with is now contemplating catheters and canes, a far different adventure from the ones we gleefully recreated during our childhoods (and maybe long after, Emil). Indiana Jones was never supposed to age – he was supposed to fade into legend with the artifacts he sought, a perfectly preserved folk hero that we in turn could hand down to our children. Instead I get to point to the penultimate film in the series and say, ‘that’s what your grandpa looked like when this movie came out’. It’s like a time capsule – fun!

So what is the next one going to be about? Indiana Jones and the Lost Kidney Stone? Will he set out on an adventure to heed the call of the porcelain god? My sincerest affections are still with Harrison Ford (I’m working on that time machine) and he deserves all the credit in the world for undertaking as many of his stunts as he could. But is it too much to ask that Spielburg and Lucas leave the remaining memories of my dashing explorer alone? Can they let a stunned nation write the last one off as an aberration and go back to exalting the virtues of the holy trilogy? Or – in true George Lucas fashion – are they going to milk the series dry, wringing the hearts of a nation of Indy lovers with it?

Sadly, they’ll probably go for the latter. Dad, can I borrow your cane? I need to go talk some sense into a plaid-wearing, sequel-destroying jackass. Call Ford for bail money. Love you.

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Why Do I Keep Getting Glamour In The Mail?

2009-06-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

I'm not paying for this shit.

That is all.

I Don't Do Vampires

2009-06-10T23:39:00.000-07:00

I was on a date over the weekend and somehow Twilight wormed its way into the conversation. The guy nervously asks ‘are you…are you into Twilight?’ Is this really an issue with twenty-something women these days? Do guys have to tiptoe around the sparkly vampire saga, not sure if their date will suddenly start squealing the praises of the undead virgin that spawned a million purity pledges, leaving them feeling inadequate compared to a guy that fucking glitters if he strips down in the sun?

The tragic answer: yes, yes they do.

I have never seen a man so relieved to see a girl get that disgusted on a date.

Then I came across this video and realized just why no man is safe from Stephenie Meyer’s literary wet dream.

Watch as much as you can stomach – it’s like car wreck fascinating.

At first I watched in horror, assuaged only by the assumption that I was witnessing a teenager escaping the brutality of high school in twinkly fantasies. But no. This person and I are the same age. I kind of want to cry.

(Seriously - she's 22. This article on Radar has the tragic facts)

Now, when said date asked me what I thought of Twilight, I had to admit that my opinion was, sadly, an informed one. I’ve read Twilight. I have read all of them. I’m not proud to admit it, but once I read the recaps on Cleolinda’s blog (I’ve mentioned her before – if you haven’t checked out her stuff, do it now. I’ll wait) I must admit that I was curious about the insane draw of the books. I worked at Borders during the height of the madness and was mostly just baffled by the amount of black-and-red hardcovers we sold each day to black draped teens with their mom’s debit card. To preppy college students who giggled at each other as I rang up two or three of them at once. To middle aged moms with dark circles under their eyes, eagerly reaching out for their copy of Eclipse, as if all their wasted dreams would be cancelled out by one whiny teenager’s love life. But it wasn’t until Cleolinda started laughing at vampire slumber parties that I had to know what was going on. I found ebooks and shamefully, so shamefully, read them.

Now, I’ve heard of a lot of women – sane, well-educated, well-read women – who read the books, smirked, and then admitted that Stephenie Meyer sort of owns their souls. They can write page after page of literary criticism about her writing, her abuse of a thesaurus, her squicky obsession with the chiseled chest of an eternal teenager, but in the end, a lot of them admit that they love the series. I finished it, kind of went ‘meh’, and then went on with my life.

I didn’t understand the big deal. Fine, I’ll just own up and say it: I don’t find Edward attractive.

*ducks*

I get the draw, on a very basic level. This man is unattainable, desired by everyone around him, and he only wants ~~the reader~~ Bella. She is a special snowflake. The books emphasize that, although so very, very flawed (she falls down a lot), she can attract the most desirable man in the world. Because he wants to suck her blood. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that doesn’t seem like a very healthy relationship. My dream man neither glitters nor spends countless pages smirking at me. He also has no interest in killing me. Maybe I’m abnormal, but these don’t seem like the most desirable traits in a suitor.

I know I should just be happy that people are reading – until I hear girls in college proudly proclaim that Twilight is the only book they’ve read. When I was the target demographic for this book, I read voraciously – mostly about strong females. I loved Tamora Pierce, Robin McKinley, and Phillip Pullman. My idea of chick lit these days is Sarah Addison Allen. By exposing themselves only to this Wuthering Heights-lite (all the dysfunction, none of the self-realization), my contemporaries are setting themselves up for epic disappointment. How many other first dates never make it to the second because the girl starts gushing about her vampire love? If that happens, run guys, run fast.

Despite my strong objection to the book, I see what Stephenie Meyer did right. She sold escapism of the headiest kind in an era when a few moments’ peace of mind is well worth the price of a hardcover (or four). During a recession, a grueling and stressful time for everyone, she gave a nation of overworked, undersexed women a fantasy that they can dive into and lose themselves. She created a narrator so devoid of a personality that any reader can project herself in Bella’s place, imagine herself the object of the emo vampire’s affection.

Enjoy your escapism Twi-hards. I’m going to be over here reading Emma for the umpteenth time, coming up with all sorts of dirty scenarios that involve me, Mr. Knightley, and his stern, but playful, resolve…crap, did I say that out loud?

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Have I Told You About My Wife?

2009-06-05T15:45:00.000-07:00

Gahhhh the wife made me watch He’s Just Not That Into You last night. And by ‘wife’ I mean friend that always makes me dinner and I argue about what movie to rent with. We’re pretty commonly referred to as married around here, and she gets to be the wife because:

She once got mad at me for not realizing she was wearing a new headband.
She wants to watch deep, thought provoking movies and I’m sulking over by the comedy section asking ‘Does anything blow up?’ ‘No.’ ‘Is it funny?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then I don’t want to watch it.’

She asks me things like ‘do you want to come to the grocery store with me?’ Why do some girls always phrase questions like this, especially when, faced with a ‘no’, they pout and say, ‘but I want you to want to.’ Agh the mind games. And then you go to the grocery store with them.

Normally I can get out of situations like this – we have a pretty equal ersatz homosexual marriage (thanks Big Bang Theory), but a guy friend of ours was hanging out with us and he wanted to watch the movie as well. He says it was for research. He claims that deep down, all girls have those same basic insecurities and issues, and now…he can exploit them? I regret this already.

Arguments and discussions ensue, more entertaining to us than the actual movie. Factions form, disagree, and split up to create new alliances. It comes down to Girl vs. Boy vs. Me. Read on for the final score.

Girl and I agree that Kevin Connolly is adorable, but any guy who doesn’t end a date with ‘we should do this again sometime’, or anything more than a peck on the cheek, well, check out the title of this movie. We both cringe at the montage of Gigi compulsively checking her phone to see if he’s called. The cringe is because, to a lesser (and sane) degree, we’ve both been there. Boy laughs at us. Points for him.

We all cringe at her overanalyzation of ‘the signs’. Boy asks if girls really do that. Girl and I admit that, yeah, we read into things, but we’re both annoyed at it being taken to this level. Negative points for femininity.

Boy drools over Scarlett Johannson in this scene, so he’s worthless. Girl and I aren’t fans of her croaky voice and flat acting but we can’t argue with those boobs so we’re voted down. We do agree that it was one of the lamest meet-cutes ever, and that both parties over stepped their bounds after the asshat Ben came clean about his marriage. Negative points for ScarJo.

Its unfortunate watching Jennifer Aniston plead for her boyfriend to marry her. Boy and I don’t think marriage is absolutely necessary to express your devotion to someone, Girl thinks it’s an important step for a couple, but that yeah, commitment is what really matters. We meet somewhere in the middle and conclude that Jennifer Aniston’s character needs to calm the hell down. It’s a tie.

We all agree that women should have an Alex to tell it to us straight and verbally bitchslap any woman who is as clueless and self sabotaging as Gigi. Boy reminds me that he’s been there for us before. Not the bitchslapping, the advice. Its true. Points for him.

Really Jennifer Aniston? You’re going to break up with your otherwise perfect boyfriend because some guy you’ve never met told your friend he’ll never marry you? Girl, Boy and I are all united on this one: no points are awarded due to sheer dumb.

Why are there so many stories about other women that things work out for? You’re going to base your relationship around hearsay? And a story that encourages ScarJo to try to her hand at wrecking a marriage? Lame. Negative points for Drew Barrymore for spreading propaganda.

Boy decides that he’d still go for Jennifer Connelly over ScarJo. Bonus points for brunettes!

We all nod approvingly when Ben turns down ScarJo, then hang our heads in disappointment when he backpedals and agrees to meet with her. All in favor of her being a hobag and him not being much better. It’s a tie.

Gigi dials up the crazy when a guy picks her up at happy hour with incredibly lame lines and she pushes him to tell her who will call first. Girl and I agree that it’s a good idea in theory because then there’s no guessing game, but the guy gives her the same ‘you crazy’ face we’re all giving the TV. She immediately calls up Alex who tells her she won’t hear from Mr. Happy Hour. She interprets that as ‘I should rip up his card to save myself from my own crazy’. Girl and I approve, but know it’s too late for her. We also know he won’t call. Boy gets a point because there are simply no redeeming females in this movie.

Jennifer Aniston (I know her character has a name, but she’s Jennifer Aniston!) gets the ‘haha, you’re single!’ treatment from everyone involved with her sister’s wedding. I’ve been there, but I wasn’t pushing forty and I got to flirt with the groomsmen and drink champagne with my new in-laws. Points for me!

Ben needs to stop telling ScarJo that he can’t cheat on his wife and then calling her hot in the same breath. ScarJo needs to stop jerking Connor around. She makes him give her foot rubs and kisses him but then sprints for the door. Bad form. Points for Girl and Me because Boy admits he’s been pussy-whipped.

Neil lives on a boat now, which sounds like more fun than cohabitating with someone who’s always bitching that you won’t marry them. We find out Ben only married Jennifer Connelly because she gave him an ultimatum, marriage or no relationship at all. Romantic. Points for Neil because he gets to live on a boat.

Going to ScarJo’s yoga class is not helping you not cheat on your wife, Ben. Neither is sending her mad flirty looks. Of course, she’s the one who strips down and jumps in the pool. Who’s he going to pick? The buxom flirt who invites him to skinny dip, or the shrew that harangues him for smoking the second he walks in the door. Of course, now it's his wife’s fault that he sleeps with ScarJo. All of us agree that it takes all people in a triangle to cheat. While some might accuse the other woman and the wandering husband, there has to be a problem with the relationship in the first place. We conclude that the responsible course of action is to reevaluate the marriage when your thoughts stray to infidelity and if you can’t keep it in your pants, own up and end things first. Points for no one, because everyone involved contributed to the adultery.

Gigi has finally managed to get into a guy’s home. I sense this will end badly. The guy starts setting up a safety net for himself, and Gigi amazingly has the foresight to recognize it for what it is. She interrupts Alex’s makeout session and what’s more, he stops kissing the other woman to take her call. No really: he STOPS KISSING ANOTHER WOMAN TO TALK TO THE CRAZY. Boy shakes his head. Whether its solidarity or shame, we’ll never know. Points to the girls, just because Alex is dumb.

Alex sets himself up for failure by setting Gigi up on a date that doesn’t show. Error 1. He goes to meet her. Error 2. He asks her to a party he’s having. Error 3. Gigi’s mind computes the data and interprets that he’s in love with her. Well done, Alex. Points for no one, because that easily could have been avoided.

At the party, Gigi decides to play hostess while Alex plays video games with another girl. Other girl leaves, and Gigi jumps him. Alex has to backpedal mightily. How did you not see this coming, man? How? Points for the girl that got out of there.

Jennifer Aniston’s dad has a heart attack and we all talk through this section because sick dads upset me. Points for Boy for the hugs. Oh and for Neil for getting in there and acting all husbandy when the real husbands are being dicks. I think that’s the point the movie’s trying to make, but it’s just so subtle.

Jennifer Connelly pulls the Spanish Inquisition on their contractor who swears none of his men smoked in her house. Why are all married women portrayed in movies as joyless harpies? Why do they not seem to care when their husband tells them he slept with another woman in the middle of Home Depot? Ben is looking for the easy way out here, but she brushes off his pleas for her to release him from their hellish marriages and keeps saying they’ll work it out. Points for Home Depot for gratuitous product placement.

Ben figures that her reaction was telling him its ok to screw ScarJo so the two start going at it in his office when suddenly, his wife shows up! Who saw that coming? After stuffing his mistress in the closet, Ben gets treated to the most awkward seduction in the history of life. It must have been as excruciating to listen to as it was to watch, because ScarJo storms out in her slip, seconds behind his tousled wife. Points to Boy because he got to see some lingerie while the girls hid their eyes in embarrassment at the horror of the striptease.

Alex has given into the crazy. He loves Gigi. She makes him feel alive, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll stop whining now. I called this about an hour ago, so points for me.

Jennifer Aniston makes a bargain with Neil. He can stop living on the boat if he gives up his ratty pants, and he doesn’t have to marry her. I don’t know who gets the better end of this deal, but probably not Neil. Boy asks Girl and me if we’d ever make our man give up his favorite article of clothing, and neither of us would. Our stipulation is as long as he didn’t wear it in public if its truly bad. Points to Girl and me because we’re better girlfriends than Jennifer Aniston.

Jennifer Connelly must have been in some hell of a state of denial until now because she goes off when she discovers a pack of cigarettes in Ben’s pants. It wasn’t that his dick was in another woman that worried her, but that he’s been smoking. Sort out your priorities, woman! The smokes are the final straw and she kicks him out. Points to no one because that was delusional and they were a horrible couple anyway.

Geared up from the closet sex, ScarJo goes to visit pussy-whipped Connor and finally, finally, gives him access to her vagina. He shows her a house he wants to buy, and she dumps him. I’m sure there’s a thread of reason in this movie somewhere but I’m just going to keep drinking wine until it shows up. Points to me for forward thinking!

Jennifer Aniston comes across the ratty pants of doom and gets all bitchy. Her boyfriend still tells her to check the pockets and she finds an engagement ring. Boy and I immediately start giving him a hard time for caving, but Girl starts saying that once she told him he didn’t have to propose, she proved she was ready for marriage and blah blah blah. Boy and I say that’s crazy. Points to us.

Then we get a montage of who got together and who broke up and if you tracked this movie better than me, congratulations. Apparently the moral is to listen to your heart not other people, and if you needed a schmaltzy movie to tell you that, you have issues, my friend.

The winner: anyone who didn’t sit through this.

And probably Boy, because he is now armed with a lot of insight into the crazy female psyche. Ladies, watch out!

Back home

For your drinking - and viewing - pleasure

2009-05-31T23:03:00.001-07:00

The logical way to spend a Sunday afternoon? Creating a Star Trek drinking game, of course! Some friends and I were reshashing the movie and decided that a drinking game needed to happen. Check after the jump for our picks!

Every time a Vulcan says logical – or someone says it to a Vulcan: 1 drink
Every time someone shouts to FIRE anything: 1 drink
Every time Chevok replaces a ‘v’ with a ‘w’: 1 drink (one each for multiple v’s in one word, e.g. ‘ewacuawte’)
Every time McCoy says ‘damnit’, ‘damn’ or any other derivative: 1 drink
Every time someone mentions the similarities between Romulans and Vulcans: 1 drink
Every time someone mentions that Spock is a human/Vulcan hybrid: 1 drink
Every time Kirk hits on someone: 1 sip (don’t want you to get hammered before the movie is over)
Every time someone insensitively mentions Kirk’s dad: 2 drinks
Every time Scotty yells at his walnut-headed assistant: 2 drinks
Every time Uhura inexplicably kisses Spock: 2 drinks
Every time someone brings up something that happened in an alternate timeline: 2 drinks
Every time someone sprints through the ship, shouting at the top of their lungs and the unnamed characters just stare in confusion: 2 drinks
Every time Kirk and Spock agree with each other: 2 drinks
Every time someone gives the Vulcan salute: 2 drinks
Every time you see a man/man/lady, or other pairing of your choice: 2 drinks

We can't decide if we're going to wait until it comes out and have a movie night, or just smuggle in drinks and go for it in the theater.

Enjoy!

Back home

Da Terminatah

2009-05-25T15:13:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it’s a given that I’m going to spoil this for you, but unlike the trailers, I’m going to spoil it good.

Terminator: Salvation opens in 2003, with one sexy, sexy convict about to get axed. What is it with movies killing the hot man in the first five minutes? Is that really the way to keep me in my seat? Bastards.

A cancer stricken Helena Bonham-Carter is pleading with him, in an oddly intimate way, to sign her release form before he gets fried. He’ll be part of something bigger than himself; he’ll have a second chance at life. But for the price of a kiss – which Carter jumps at and frankly, I can’t blame her – he signs the Cyberdyne release form. If you lived through the 80’s and 90’s, you know that this won’t end well.

Marcus Wright – So that’s what death tastes like. Sexy.

Well, the professionally named ‘Dr Selena’ got what she wanted and now they can go ahead and kill him. The execution scene is almost lovingly shot, the camera lingering on the needle inserted into his arm, the plungers slowly descending into the needles. A burst of white light carries us fifteen years into the future.

The Resistance, led by a scruffy John Connor who inexplicably managed to survive years of futuristic robots (how hard is it to kill one bratty teenager? Three movies worth of hard, apparently). He leads a raid on a Skynet facility and uses a terminator for his landing pad because, why not.

Apparently Skynet keeps their research labs at the bottom of a chasm. He rappels down and sets up a link to the Resistance Command, feeding them intel and creating the whole plot. The soldiers marvel at the human prisoners kept in cages, but don’t seem in a hurry to let them out. They find evidence of a new terminator with regenerating human tissue, and Connor demands to know what’s going on from the Resistance. When he begins to question their authority – apparently the Resistance thinks their messiah needs to shut up and look sexy – he gets sent topside to pout until its over.

The surface is littered with corpses, silver-toned and flesh alike. A transport filled with human cargo takes off in the distance. Connor starts spouting directions to a helicopter pilot until the man tips out of his seat to the ground. Commandeering the CHOPPAH, he undertakes a slow flight to nowhere, getting bombed back to the ground in a few, dizzying seconds. Half a terminator proceeds to kick his ass until he can blow its chip to pieces.

He calls for help. He’s the only one left, but they still send in the cavalry because, without him, there wouldn’t be a franchise.

Out of the chasm crawls a mud coated and very naked man. Hello there, strangely not dead Marcus Wright.

Connor, who hasn’t learned to take direction any better than when he was young, orders the pilot to take him to Command.

The higher-ups refuse him entry, but he bitches at the pilot until he gets his way. The man gets a grip on his gun, covers his mouth, and plunges into the angry trough of a churning sea.

Ah, because Command is a submarine. Crafty.

One of the pieces of intel they gathered is a signal imbedded in the communications sent to all terminators. This could be the key to winning the war, as it can shut down terminators. Connor asks to be the man to test it and since they just want to get him off their sub, Command goes along with it.

He’s got four days to get it figured out because whether or not they’ve got a weapon that can take down Skynet, they’re going in for the kill anyway. Sure, blunder blindly into the stronghold of the killer robots. Have fun.

Connor questions their decision – of course he does – and learns he’s number two on Skynet’s kill list for his trouble. Number One? Kyle Reese. If you don’t know who that is, you probably shouldn’t be watching this movie.

Marcus Wright, no longer wearing only mud but pretty close, goes meandering into the graveyard of a city.

Dude, you do not shout ‘hey!’ at a terminator. Not if you want to keep your face.

He gets his ass saved by Chekov and a tiny girl. He tells Marcus ‘come with me if you want to live’. It just sounds better with an Austrian inflection.

The little girl, despite being mute, is surprisingly badass, and helps Chekov take out the terminator and a Hunter-Killer, some hovering machine of death. The two of them comprise the LA branch of the Resistance. And Chekov – is a teenaged Kyle Reese. You grew up to father Christian Bale? Errrr, ok.

Connor returns to his own base, the sole survivor of his mission. Common does not take news of his brother’s death well, but Connor’s hugely pregnant wife is thrilled to see him. He tells her about the signal that can shut down terminators and she suggests testing it on a hydrobot.

Connor’s all for it, but first he has to make his brooding radio transmission to keep all the scattered freedom fighters pumped up.

Marcus repairs the derelict radio in Kyle Reese’s hideout just in time to hear Connor’s voice gravel over the airwaves. Upon hearing his message of sort-of hope (apparently you can disable the T-Somethinghundreds targeting system with a well placed knife to the neck. Can you sneak up on terminators?) they decide to go find him.

Connor has an expository conversation with his wife. He has a library of cassettes left to him by his mother, who reveals that the first two movies didn’t count because execs realized they could milk the franchise for more money and decided to speed up the production of the terminators. Yes, that is Linda Hamilton’s voice on the tapes. Yes, we had to avert a near disastrous bet by finding that out. Altered timelines seem to be the way to go this summer.

They capture a hydrobot, a snappy fanged technoworm, and kind of hold it down while Connor gets right up in its pincers. Smart move. They turn on the signal and it is immediately subdued. Until they turn it off again, and Connor nearly loses an eye.

Marcus appears to be a magically gifted mechanic, or Jeeps are wired exactly like radios, because he gets one up and running in no time. It starts blasting Alice In Chains, which freaks the bejesus out of Reese and his silent companion. Marcus tries to kick the little girl out of the car, but sadly can’t abandon her to her fate because the radio’s wailing has attracted some kind of bot. Does it matter which? They’ve all got the same objective.

They go speeding off in the Jeep, and Marcus takes the bot down with a well-flung wrench. Super mechanic!

Just before I start wondering how much gas is in the future, they pull into a wrecked 7-11 that bears Resistance markings.

They’re greeted with a face-full of guns until the head honcho (who’s a woman) shows up and all seems well until a giant robotic arm descends through the ceiling and grabs her.

The arm is attached to a three-story-tall terminator with a giant gun for a head and flamethrowers for arms. Everyone scatters, screwing other people over for cars that are quickly engulfed in flames anyway.

Marcus takes off in a fuel truck – straight for the terminator – and manages to blow the thing to hell. Well, he doesn’t on the first try because his shot fails to set the whole thing off, but the little girl came prepared. She hands him a flare. I like her.

They take off from the enormous roiling fireball, but the giant terminator just says fuck you, and walks out unscathed. It sends two weird motorcycle things down from its legs to catch our heroes while it makes off with its human cargo.

Chase scenes ensue. Innocent bridges get blown to shit. Reese and the little girl are taken and thrown into the human cattle car. Marcus doesn’t like that, so he flings himself on top of it and digs in with an axe like a makeshift Wolverine.

The fight takes it to the air when Resistance pilots show up. Its impossible to tell who is pursuing whom at this point, but all I know is Marcus drops into the river and just bounces along the surface. No, really.

One of the pilots managed to eject, and Marcus cuts her down from her tangled parachute.

Of course it’s a hot chick. Hi, Moon Bloodgood. Sorry, ‘Blair’. Looking forward to not seeing your tits. Stay away from Marcus, kthx.

I can immediately tell where they cut the scene. She starts to peel out of her top to dress a wound and – fade to black. Still, some random thugs must have liked what we didn’t see because first they try to get her antibiotics and then into her pants.

She takes them on, but it’s three against one and they throw her into the mud. A for effort.

Marcus shows up and beats them down. One guy socks him in the face, but it has the same effect as a nice, open palm slap.

All rescued, Blair starts eyeing Marcus appreciatively. She claims she’s cold, which is girl code for come snuggle. Guys mistake it as ‘give me your jacket’ but no, its ‘get your hands on me’. He doesn’t take the bait, so she moves in. He sits immobile while she gets all over him, telling him she loves the sound of his strong heartbeat. That’s postapocalyptic pillow talk right there.

Over at Skynet, the human transports have arrived and are herded like cattle beneath the bored gazes of the terminators. Explain something to me. Why, exactly, do robots want to run the world anyway? They don’t care about money, sex or private islands. What’s in it for them? Not being blown up? Shouldn’t have started killing people in the first place then.

Anywho, I’ll take my logic elsewhere. At lease Kyle Reese knows how to keep his head when everyone else is flipping out and getting shot down.

Just outside the prison, his future son is chilling with Common. They blow a car up to attract a Hunter-Killer and neutralize it with the signal. Connor’s happy dance is interrupted when he learns that, thanks to his testing, Command is going to go through with their plan to destroy Skynet and are going to bomb it with all the people inside.

But nooo! That would make them no better than machines!

Due to his bitching, Command (yup, as a single entity. One of whom is vaguely German) strips Connor of his post, but being good soldiers, his pals roundly ignore that. He starts transmitting to the rest of the Resistance, begging them as their messiah and the star of this franchise to not go bomb their target.

While he pouts about the inevitable loss of human life (This is WAR, Bale!) Marcus and Blair tiptoe across a minefield.

Don’t worry, says Blair; they’re all magnetic, says Blair. The mines shift ominously when Marcus passes. Then one jumps out, attaches itself to his leg, and Marcus gets blowed up.

Luckily they were right by the Resistance base, and Connor’s wife (again with the no name) rushes him to surgery, asking if he has a prosthetic leg. She rips open his shirt.

Gasps, shock, accusations. Common knocks him out with a rifle.

Connor interrogates a now chained Marcus. The camera is trained on Bale, giving us Marcus’ point of view. Hello there.

Marcus insists he’s human, he was born, not made. In a scene they completely gave away in the trailer, Connor unchains Marcus’ head, allowing him to gaze upon his exploded abdomen, flesh giving way to metal. He’s a hybrid, Connor’s wife explains, with a human heart but a whole bunch of machine parts too.

Marcus, understandably, freaks the fuck out.

Connor starts blaming him immediately for trying to kill his parents. His father’s name strikes a chord for Marcus, who immediately starts shouting that he’s trying save Kyle Reese, not kill him.

Blair, because she wants to jump that half-man half-machine, perhaps even more now that she’s seen his wiring, rambles about how he defended her, but everyone else tells her to save it, he’s the enemy.

She lets him go, because how is she supposed to have sex with him when he’s suspended over a pit?

Her crew immediately turns on them both, and a long game of cat and mouse ensues, with lots of shooting. Blair gets one in the leg, but Marcus drags her to safety. She gives herself up by posing as Marcus.

Another helicopter goes down, and this time Connor is threatened on all sides by vengeful hydrobots, kind of like robotic Shrieking Eels. A seriously shredded Marcus comes to his rescue, and as thanks, Connor sends him on a suicide mission to Skynet. He tells the other Resistance fighters the bastard terminator got away.

Not one to stay away from heroics, Connor decides to take off. When his wife asks what to tell the troops if he doesn’t return, he just says ‘I’ll be back’. Laughter ripples through the mostly empty theater before I catch on.

Command tries to initiate the attack but all the troops pretend not to hear the order. Way to underestimate the savior of humanity, Vaguely German Guy.

Marcus hides at the base of the Skynet facility. A terminator is roaming the walls, and has no problem with Marcus once he steps into the open. Disappointed, Marcus goes inside.

He syncs with the mainframe, and learns the truth about the program he donated his body to and his dying makeout partner. Once he finds Kyle Reese’s cell, he transmits the information to Connor.

After another white out, Marcus wakes up strapped to a table, his skin whole again. A computer with Helena Bonham-Carter’s face basically congratulates him for being the downfall of the human race. Turns out he did exactly what he was programmed for – he infiltrated the humans and brought John Connor to Skynet. Not only that, but they’ve been feeding the humans false intel – like the signal.

Then they blow up the Resistance Command.

Connor makes it inside and frees the humans while frantically searching for Kyle Reese. He comes upon a brand new T-800, its naked body covered with strategic steam. Hey, Arnold. That’s my governor, folks.

By blundering around, Connor manages to find Kyle and the girl, as well as the terminator factory. He rigs the fuel cells to blow, but drops the detonator. Kyle refuses to leave him, but Connor tells him he never did. Tear. Also, Kyle probably thinks he’s a lunatic.

Connor falls for the T-800 mimicking Kyle’s voice, but manages to pour magma onto it. That alone should have done it in – it worked in the past – but he hits it with freezing air, just in case. It stops long enough for him to get relieved, then bitch slaps him down and sinks its molten fingers into his face.

Marcus shows up and begins battling the now-fleshless-and-no-longer-bearing-any-resemblance-to-Schwarzenegger-T-800. It tosses him into a steel beam which curves into the shape of his spine.

Sensing its prey’s weakness, the T-800 delivers one punch to Marcus’ heart and he goes down.

Connor tries to jumpstart him, frantically screaming the staple of tense action scenes and Arrested Development, ‘COME ON!’

Marcus does, but only after Connor gets a steel rod shoved through his chest, probably to shut him up. Infuriated by the loss of his ‘friend’, or just pissed that it tried to kill him too, Marcus uses the rod to snap off the T-800’s head. He hauls Connor to the surface.

They succeeded in freeing the humans, but Skynet remains unexploded. Oh what’s that, useful little girl? The detonator? Thanks! BOOM.

Sadly, Connor isn’t going to make it. It’s – tear – his heart. Really gung-ho on that second chance thing, Marcus offers his.

Blair tries to talk him out of dying to save her commander because, well, she wasn’t going to get to sleep with him, but Marcus seems to care more about humanity. They share one hell of a boring kiss, and then Marcus steps forward.

The two men are prepped for surgery and share a long, long, bedside stare.

Connor regains consciousness on a CHOPPAH, monologuing about how they won the battle but not the war. Wait, what? Dammit, I thought that was the end of it. No more Marcus? Good luck getting me to sit through the sequels.

We go home and the guys proceed to put in Terminator II, bitching all the while. Sack up, boys.

Back home

Trust Me, I'm A Professional

2009-05-18T22:06:00.000-07:00

I’ve been a die-hard fan of Guy Ritchie since the first time I saw Snatch. My brother brought it home from his old job at Blockbuster and just told me ‘watch this, you’ll like it’. He’s usually right on the money so one quiet evening my mom and I pop it in. Midway through she gets bored of the Cockney accents and brutal violence and leaves, but I’m enthralled.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen Snatch since – it’s definitely on my all-time favorite movies list. It wasn’t the hot guys that got me hooked: Brad Pitt has always seemed more adorable than hot to me, and it took many, many viewings to gear up my complete and utter love for Jason Statham (and Death Race and Crank II to cool it). It was the quips, the dry but energetic British humor, the endorphins in the moody but elegant boxing scenes.

Snatch led me to Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, another deftly woven heist movie. I get the accusations that Ritchie essentially remade it to create Snatch, but both movies have vitally different characters, set-ups and schemes. They fit smoothly together for a British caper movie fest, to be sure, but they stand alone as well crafted movies.

Then came a long dry spell for my favorite director. There’s the movie he made starring his then-wife, of which we do not speak. I was ready to give up hope until I heard about the release of Revolver. It starred my favorite dry-as-a-good-martini gangster, and I figured Ritchie had gone back to his roots.

I was in London when the movie premiered in the UK, and tried to convince the guy I was dating to go. We were both big Ritchie fans, but he kept saying he’d heard it was awful and didn’t want to waste his time. We went drinking instead. I figured I’d catch it when it was released in the States, but it was a no go. The movie didn’t come out for ages, and then only on DVD.

The minute it was available, I got it from Netflix and settled in. I was hugely disappointed. While I had no problems weaving through his earlier tangled narratives, this was absurd. The patented Ritchie twist at the end felt like a bow wrapped around the plot, convoluted and contrived as it was. To be honest, I don’t remember much of it from that single viewing, but did read later that he’d tried to tie in a bunch of Kabbalah hoo-haw to appease his wife. I was despondent – until RockNRolla.

That movie restored my faith in Ritchie and made me pray the end titles weren’t lying – that there really was a sequel in the works. Gerard Butler didn’t replace Statham as Ritchie’s leading man, but he gave him something new and equally brilliant to work with, a fresh energy that revitalized his tried-and-true gangsters genre.

This was the movie I'd been waiting for during his long dry spell (I blame the ex). It was instantly recognizable as a movie in his oeuvre, but it didn't feel like the earlier ones rehashed or revisited. He'd moved into new territory, his gangsters moving up in the world as he did, but never straying far from their rough and tumble roots. Its almost poetic, the way he can tie so many plot lines and characters together, and this time it felt organic and unified.

It has his most recognizable elements: dry, lancing quips, quick cutting scenes, and gritty action. I’ve rewatched the fight between the Wild Bunch and the Russians so many times, I swear there’s a groove in the disc. There was even a woman who got to speak more than two lines! I love Thandie Newton and her purring line delivery, and Butler was right, those were some nice shoes. The two of them also have, quite possibly, the most ridiculously awesome sex scene ever committed to film.

RockNRolla had its slow, almost Kevin Smith dialogue moments, but they felt natural to the characters and served as a perfect counterpoint to the frantic, choppy action sequences. And the bit with Handsome Rob and One Two dancing? Sheer, unexpected brilliance. It also introduced me to Idris Elba, whom I feel is wasted as the joyless Charles Miner on the US Office. The Wild Bunch captured the frenetic energy of his ensemble gangs at their best - you stick together, you never rat each other out, and you take out anyone who does. And sometimes, just sometimes, a bro takes another bro slow dancing.

While I have yet to hear anything encouraging about a sequel (other than to pray that the box office was good enough to warrant one), I am incredibly excited about the new Ritchie movie in the works: an adaptation, and apparent reimagining, of Sherlock Holmes.

He got Robert Downey Jr. for the eponymous character, Jude Law as a mustached Watson, and Rachel McAdams as a femme fatale version of Irene Adler. It looks like McAdams even has an action scene or two that don’t take place between the sheets. This will be a first for Ritchie, since his female characters are usually background, if anything. There were more tits in the aptly titled Snatch than there were speaking females.

Adding to my excitement is the first trailer for the movie - check it out

This looks like a hell of a lot of fun. There were several genuine laugh out loud moments for me, and I doubt that seeing them in the trailer will ruin them in the movie. There also seems to be a heavy supernatural element, but that’s not unknown for Holmes (Hound of the Baskervilles, anyone?)

While the plot and the original books drawn from are not entirely clear (Adler appeared in A Study in Scarlet, so I’m guessing there will be some elements from that), the movie seems to blend the original Holmes mythology with some classic Ritchie elements. Bare knuckled boxing – need I say more? Slip an Irishman into that scene and I will be so happy.

There’s also more action and, it seems, more humor, in the movie than are traditional for Sherlock Holmes tales, but I understand the audience that they’re trying to reach. Personally, I will be happy if they nail his brilliant deductive (it should really be inductive, but whatever) skills as well as the relationship with Watson. They have an Odd Couple moment in the trailer that I found adorable and pretty spot on, given the unusually codependent nature of their interactions.

This heralds another break with Ritchie’s milieu, one that I feel much more confident about than That Castaway Movie. He’s sticking with his style while adapting it to the subject matter, twisting them together to create a hybrid that will appeal to his fans as well as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s. Purists are already up in arms about him helming the film, but I’m looking forward to the energy and excitement that already seem evident in the trailer.

Forget opening presents; I know what I’m doing on Christmas Day.

Back home

X-Men: A franchise that seems to be indestructible as well...

2009-05-13T16:55:00.000-07:00

Unlike Star Trek, this is a series I’m actually somewhat familiar with. By which I mean, I’ve seen the movies. A huge part of that was, of course, Hugh Jackman running around in a (pardon the term) wife-beater with crazy bulging muscles and some 70’s facial hair. I defy you to find me another man who can pull that off. I think part of the fun of it – and this holds true for most comic book movies – is that it already has an established backstory and mythology. And that’s where they hook me.

Of course – this movie is all about setting up Wolverine’s personal mythology. And the man with the muscles had a particularly incongruous origin – as a pasty, sickly kid named James. James?

Apparently, in Canada in the 18somethings it was totally cool for bastard half brothers to hang out – possibly plotting each other’s demise – until their angry father shows up and kills the man who is raising at least one of them.

Of course that other dude was Logan/James’ dad. Check out those muttonchops.

Seeing his not-father killed in front of him brings out the animal in Logan/James. He proceeds to grow unicorn horns out of his knuckles and with a Vader-esque “Nooooooooo!” stabs his real-father. Before dying, his real-father delivers the Vader-esque realization that they are, in fact, related.

The boys are chased off by angry villagers with pitchforks and torches.

By the opening credits, the half brothers have grown into their sideburns and are fighting in every war ever (which side was Canada on, is the question?)

You take a bullet at point blank range? Walk it off, man, walk it off.

Victor’s berserker tendencies finally land them in trouble circa Vietnam. I guess they didn’t like it when you killed the soldiers you were supposed to be fighting with. Who knew? They get sentenced to the firing squad, and relax in a post-execution cell until Stryker comes for them.

Stryker – So we killed you. It didn’t take.

He recruits them to be part of the Elite Mutant Squad. Role call!

The Hobbit Technopath!

Guns: the dude with all the muscles in his arms and none between his ears!

Ryan Reynolds – snarky and hot. Typecast!

Agent Zero

A…Black Eyed Pea? That can teleport?

Two dudes from Lost on one plane? This can’t end well.

They run off to…some African country to steal….something.

Reynolds goes into sword ballet mode and Matrix kills a whole roomful of people.

Turns out the something they were looking for was a sacred rock. Wait. Haven’t I seen this movie? That ripping the heart out of the chest thing colored my whole childhood.

When the locals refuse to lead them to the other sacred stones, Victor starts ripping their heads off because, apparently, he finds it therapeutic. Logan/James seems to have a conscience lurking under all that scruff. He flips the bird to the Elite Mutant Squad and goes back to Canada. Like you do.

Apparently appropriate attire for Canada is no shirt and clingy pajama bottoms.

Whoo there! That is quite the bulge. Is that…stunt junk?

Seems (Just)Logan has found domestic bliss with a woman who has the equivalent emotional range of his sideburns. I sense this won’t last long.

We find out that he didn’t want to be an Elite Mutant, he wanted to be…a lumberjack!

Cut back to the Hobbit Technopath, who has apparently spent the past six years turning a light bulb on and off. With his mind. He works as sideshow attraction at a carnival until Victor comes for him in his adorably nerdy trailer.

Seems like someone is killing off the Elite Mutant Squad, one by one (you can’t have a spin-off if you’re dead, Reynolds).

Seems like the killer is Victor – who grasps one of the myriad lightbulbs in his bag lady nails and…makes it flicker? I guess this is a sign of aggression among mutants.

The whole carnival goes dark.

Umpteen hundred miles away, Logan wakes up from a muscle-bulging, feral-shrieking dream.

There’s a sheet shredding joke in here somewhere. I bet they spend a fortune on linens. The little wife (she’s not important enough to have a name despite being, you know, his wife) has a nasty claw mark on her arm. She tells him its just a scratch – which makes it into that creepy it-doesn’t-matter-that-you-hurt-me-because-I-know-you-love-me Breaking Dawn moment.

Some not so subtle foreshadowing occurs when an arbitrary jackhole fight on a bridge is averted when Wolvey’s wifey puts her hands on the jackhole’s shoulder and suddenly all is resolved by her ‘feminine persuasion’. Sure.

His wife tells a legend about a wolverine in love with the moon, but all I can think about is the road rash you’d get from making out with Jackman. I’d buy stock in moisturizer and have at it.

Beheaded animals? Claw marks? Honey – my brother’s coming to visit!

Victor tracks down wifey, takes her out to a nice, sunny meadow, and murders her. There aren’t any visible signs, so I’m going to go with his favorite, snapped neck.

He decides to go for a tall, cold one while waiting for Logan to catch up with him.

The locals scatter when they see his claws come out to play. The brothers are considerate enough, however, to take it outside and proceed to beat the everloving shit out of one another.

It’s a bit reminiscent of the final battle in the first Pirates of the Caribbean – two immortals duking it out, until one of them or the audience tires first.

Still, Victor got stiffed in the claw department with his ‘bag lady nails’. It’s a bit like going to a saber fight armed with a butter knife.

The doctor Logan is delivered to thinks his staff is joking.

Stryker shows up before Logan can shiskebob the doc and promises him vengeance – probably just to get the bone claws out of his neck. He swears on his son’s life to give him the tools to defeat Victor. See now, I’ve seen the rest of the movies and I know that neither promise packs much of a punch. Sorry to ruin it for you, but Victor is still alive and kicking and vagranty enough to make an Olsen twin proud, and Stryker’s son? Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t put stock in any vow that man makes on his offspring’s life. He also admits that he’s the one who put Victor on this rampage by locking up the out-of-control bastard. Not taking well to confinement, Victor got out and started to slaughter the Elite Mutant Squad. But he didn’t really try to kill his brother, oh no. He just went for the wife for fun.

Then Stryker tells Logan he’ll make him indestructible – but first he has to destroy him. Whatever you say, Captain Opposite.

Turns out the ~~Shankara~~ stone they were looking for in Nigeria had something vague to do with adamantium, and now that they’ve found it, they’re going to coat Logan's skeleton in it. Fun. My computer doesn’t think adamantium is a word and I don’t blame it.

There is, however, a glimpse of upper Jackman butt, so I stop caring. Damn you, strategically placed restraint!

Stryker tells a whole roomful of people that they’re about to bond adamantium to ‘Weapon X’s’ skeleton. When Logan questions the term, Stryker oh so helpfully clarifies it as the Roman numeral for ten. They’ve tried this before? With non-indestructible people? I sense it did not go well.

They shove pinky-sized needles into Logan’s skeleton and give us a lovely view of the ones jammed into his head. We find out that Logan can feel pain but can’t be sedated. Sucks for you, man! They also considerately sum the entire movie up in flashback while Logan is thrashing in pain. Thanks for that update, I was starting to forget!

Flatline. I guess he wasn’t so tough after all. The doctors all hang their heads in defeat.

His skeleton is fully coated in adamantium, so it was a success. Except for the whole dying thing.

Which lasts long enough for Zero to start smirking.

Then a plaintive ping starts and everyone starts celebrating before Logan even takes a breath. Zero asks about taking him to an island (to be reunited with Charlie?) but Styker makes cryptic comments about using his DNA to create number eleven and orders his memory wiped. Dick.

Newly indestructible Logan doesn’t like that and rises from the tank – artfully blurred by steam (stop cockblocking me, Fox!), needles still stuck in him like bizarre acupuncture.

Zero must not have been paying attention to the whole last scene – he shoots Logan in the head. Logan shrugs it off.

He runs bare assed naked through the compound, Zorros the door open, and then hops down a waterfall. No seriously, there’s a loooong tracking shot of a very CGIed man sloooooowly crashing into the frothing water at the base of the cliff. I wouldn’t have minded except that we don’t get much of a view of the ass.

Stryker wants his head.

Clark Kent’s parents toodle through the mountains (nice Tolkien quote on the window there) until the wife is distracted by the sight of Logan’s naked ass vaulting fences and makes her husband stop the car.

I kid you not – she says, ‘I think there’s a naked man in the barn.’ Old man - ‘Yep.’

The old man makes Logan put it away so as not to scare the wife (I hate you) and invites him into the house.

We get an extended puberty metaphor with Logan elongating his claws. When startled, he starts accidentally slicing up everything in the bathroom. He shows up to dinner with half the sink.

The old man squints at Logan like a cockatoo in every scene. Seriously, he is adorable.

When he went to call Logan to dinner, you know he was thinking to himself, ‘do whatever you want in there, but by god, clean up after yourself.’

He warms up enough to give Logan his son’s leather jacket – and if you’ve seen the other movies, you know he wears it for the rest of them – and there are some touching scenes before Zero shoots the hell out of them. I’m not even kidding – one second the old woman is offering breakfast, the next everyone is dead. Then they nuke the barn.

Logan takes off on his miraculously unexploded motorcycle.

A chase ensures. Logan bats a gatling gun out of his face just cause it annoys him. He gets launched onto the top of the helicopter when they fire a missile at him, shredding the propellers and sinking his claws in for dear life before it blows the hell up.

They had this scene in all the trailers, but its still damn cool.

Everyone else got battered in the crash, but Logan’s silverplated wounds heal instantaneously. He uses Agent Zero’s radio to tell Stryker to go fuck himself, and uses his claws as a flint to blow up the remains of the chopper.

Styker tells some Colonel that the only want to take the newly minted Wolverine down is with an adamantium bullet. I don’t entirely get how that would work, but whatever, you’re going for a werewolf thing here. Some colonel points out what I thought was the major flaw in the plan – Logan is indestructible and you’re the one that did it. Well done. But its ok – they’ve found some other random mutant!

And – it’s a young, hungover looking Cyclops.

Logan knocks back a beer with Teleportation Guy and learns that his leaving set Victor on a beheading rampage and that the Elite Mutant Squad started hunting other mutants and taking them to the island.

To get information on the mysterious island, Logan has to box Guns, who’s turned into Bob Bitchtits. There is much CGIed punching of flab.

Logan basically compresses his head with one adamantium-packed punch and questions him about Victor.

Who – as it turns out – is after Cyclops. He takes out Cyclops; Cyclops takes out half the school, and we discover that Styker and Victor are working together and both run the island. Styker’s been taking mutants to the island so he can experiment on them and combine their powers to create one super mutant.

Logan, whilst pondering his knuckles, realizes they killed his wife so she’d act as a catalyst, spurring him to take part in their experiment and play into their game. Except now he’s got an indestructible skeleton, so I think they’re even.

Per Guns’ instructions, Logan heads to New Orleans to find an escapee of the island, with Teleporty in tow. They find Gambit gambling and if I ever saw someone basically making playing cards fly, I would not challenge them to a game. Despite Logan’s assertion that he wants to kill Victor, Gambit takes umbrage at Logan’s dog tags and starts flinging ordinary playing cards at him. You wouldn’t think that would do much to a man with an adamantium skeleton, but they fling him through a wall so you'd be wrong.

He lands in the alley where Victor has just killed Teleporty and – from what it looks like – harvested his DNA. They start in on each other again, but Victor wasn’t counting on Gambit.

Enlighten the Newbie, because I do not get his power. It looks like he can imbue objects with some sort of shock wave, am I right? He also doesn’t seem to get the whole ‘enemy of my enemy is my friend’ thing, though, because he keeps going after Logan.

Victor slinks off, leaving the two of them to duke it out. In a pretty sweet move, Logan slides two of his claws in to give Gambit the big, shiny finger.

He slices Gambit’s pimp cane in half, but that doesn’t stop the faux Southerner from running up and flipping off of walls. Seriously, what the fuck is his power. Let’s visit Wikipedia, shall we? Ok, so he can ‘manipulate kinetic energy’ and he’s charming. That’s a super power? Hokayyyy.

Back to the movie – Wolverine dices the fire escape Gambit was chilling on, and finally convinces him he’s trying to kill their mutual enemy.

In some cryo bank somewhere, Styker is working on Weapon Eleven, which creepily has its lips sewn shut. His plan is to neutralize the mutant problem before it happens by combining their strengths and leaving out their weaknesses. You can leave out the ability to flip cards, dude. That’s kind of lame.

Just as he’s starting to ramble about preemptive action in a Bush sort of way (hello lame duck political metaphor) Some Colonel (remember him?) tells him they know that his son is a mother-killing mutant. Can’t handle your mind controlling son? Can’t handle the rest of the mutants. You’re off the job! Oh but then Stryker brings the American people into it – leave me out of this, please – and lances Some Colonel. Weapon Eleven, back on.
Weapon XI just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

The island is…Three Mile Island? No polar bears?

Logan – who seems to have a greater propensity for jumping out of things than even I do – hops out of the plane without a chute and skips across the water like a rock. No, seriously.

Ugh, we get a shot of a lizard-looking Weapon XI with his eyes peeled back.

Stryker is in no way surprised to see Logan, and reiterates what we were told already – they’re building a super hybrid mutant, they just killed his wife to get him involved, yada yada.

And then they bring his wife back. My god, that’s one blank woman. Hey, wait a minute – is Stryker’s son doing this with his mind control? Is she a hallucination? I’m hoping that’s why she’s got the range of a robot. Oh, nope, she’s alive. But I was right about her being a mutant! She has ‘tactile hypnosis’. So she touches you, she can manipulate you – meaning that nothing in their relationship was real. Must be handy to have that power when you can’t summon any emotion to convince anyone. She doesn’t react, even as Logan walks out the door.

Turns out she was in it to save her sister. And her name is Kayla. You know what, I don’t care.

Victor is pissed that Stryker let Logan go – he’s got metal envy and doesn’t want to hear he wouldn’t survive the surgery.

He turns on Kayla. Turns out her scream is enough to galvanize even a betrayed husband to strip off his shirt and come to her rescue. Oh just kill her. I won’t miss her.

Once again, it’s metal against brute strength. Logan sinks his claws in to the hilt and they go crashing through a giant window for maximum drama.

He’s got Victor on this tip of his blades, listening to the angel and devil argue about whether or not he’s an animal. He opts to retract his claws and knock his brother out the good, old-fashioned way. A closed fist.

Kayla comes to him, bitching about her sister. Damn, I wish you were a hallucination.

Styker orders the activation of XI, codename: Deadpool. Because they pooled all the other’s powers and he’s deadly, yeah, yeah I get it (Apparently that’s not at all his origin in the comics. Thanks again Wikipedia!)

Logan comes upon the mutant zoo and frees them all.

Ah. They blindfolded Cyclops. I was wondering why he wouldn’t remember Logan.

Before they can escape they run into Deadpool. Who has…no mouth, peeled back eyes, and a single, adamantium saber blade in his knuckles. Gah. And it’s - Reynolds? Why Stryker? Dammit, he was so hot until you got a hold of him.

The sword ballet is back.

Kayla’s sister fucking sparkles when she activates her ‘diamond hard skin’? What am I watching – Twilight?

All it takes is one blast from Cyclops, and no more guards. The prisoners make their escape, taking cues from a suddenly psychic Cyclops. Seriously, he hears whispers and everything. But oh no! Kayla is bleeding. Tiny Violin

Logan and unsexy Deadpool start battling it out on top of a nuclear reactor. Like you do.

Of course, Deadpool can teleport now and basically kicks Logan’s ass. Oh fuck, Stryker can program him! Creepy.

Before he can follow through on the <\decapitate> command, Victor knocks his mutant ass off the reactor. Of course, he can teleport, so that buys you about sixteen seconds.

‘Nobody kills you but me.’ Aw, brotherly love.

He hauls Logan to safety and they square off against Deadpool, who teleports, flips, chops, dude stop it, you’re making me dizzy. All this as badly CGIed morning dawns.

The guys go for double penetration before Deadpool blasts the reactor with his Cyclops vision. Which…can be deflected off adamantium? Sure, I’ll go with it.

Logan slices Deadpool with his red hot, charged claws and kicks him into the reactor core.

His decapitated head continues to emit blasts as it falls into the core, slicing through the side of the cone. No, seriously. You can’t have a spin-off if you’re dead, Reynolds. Or headless.

It’s still the blind leading with blind over with the mutant escapees.

Stryker monologues a little to his admanatium tech/doctor lady. She reiterates what I thought – adamantium bullets can’t kill Logan, now that he's fucking indestructible! Ah, but they can kill his memories.

The brothers agree not to murder each other for the next few seconds while the reactor crumbles beneath them. Make up somewhere else, guys.

They get to jumping off the core in a hurry, but an enormous section is headed straight for a prostrate Logan.

No worries, Gambit shows up and deus-ex-machina’s it away with his staff. He goes off to save the kids, and Logan finds Kayla, who’s just now bleeding out from that whatever wound she received earlier. Are we sure SHE’S not CGI? I wouldn’t be surprised.

She tells him she loves him with the same tone I reserve for tax audits. Lucky bitch still gets to kiss him. She’s…so cold. Just die already! He won’t remember soon anyway!

He carries her into the nuclear sunrise. That is, until Stryker puts two adamantium bullets into his back. The brain! You’re supposed to aim for the brain! Damn, I thought you were military and you can’t fucking aim!

Oh well, until Logan helpfully launches his head about a foot away from the gun. And another one for good measure.

He’d thoughtfully saved one for the mannequin on the ground, but she grabs hold of his leg and makes him turn the gun on himself. If you had any target shooting skills, this wouldn’t have been a problem, man.

She makes him throw the gun away and start walking. So, he’s got about 1.5 miles before he drowns. Might as well have made him shoot himself.

The kids emerge into some misty forest (where the hell did that tunnel go?) to find Charles Xavier walking down from his chopper. Yup. Walking.

Logan wakes up, two bullets embedded in his forehead, and doesn’t have a clue who Gambit is. All he knows is what’s on his tags. Can I recommend Memento?

Logan notices Kayla, who is lying rigidly where Stryker left her. No, seriously, I think she’s playing Statue Tag.

He doesn’t know who she is.

Aaaaaaand: Credits.

The army finds the bloody soled Stryker and calls him in for questioning about that dude he sliced. Seriously? That was your follow up?

Ok, here we go. Logan ‘drinking to remember’ in an Asian country. Sure, because that works.

You know what? I really wanted to like this. I was excited about it – I told my friends I’d heard good things. Come to think of it, that might have just been about the opening weekend box office. But while Star Trek came off as a crafted, well put together origin story, this felt clunky and overwrought. Aside from a choppy and contrived plot, and choppy and contrived dialogue, it just didn’t have the awe-inspiring holy-fuck-this-is-awesome quotient of Star Trek, or even other big reboots, like last year’s Dark Knight and Iron Man. Granted, it’s by Fox.

I think part of the problem is that they lost focus. We’ve got a whole new franchise booting up here: the origin of Wolverine, and possibly alllllll the new mutants we were introduced to. They stretched themselves too thin. We’ve got the Elite Mutant Squad plot, the ice cold wife plot, revenge against Victor, then Stryker, then both. Make up your damn mind!

That said, you’d think it would have all the requisites for an enjoyable action movie (for me anyway): hot men, big explosions, a few really good fight scenes. And it did – and those were enjoyable. There’s just that element of a big, popcorn action movie that can’t help but be fun – so much adrenaline, so much happening on screen. So it accomplished that. But all in all? I’d go see Star Trek again.

Back home

Boobs - And My Thoughts On Them

2009-05-10T20:16:00.001-07:00

My all-time favorite blog is by author ‘Cleolinda’ Jones. She hit it big on the internet with Movies in Fifteen Minutes, amazing movie parodies that I could never even try to emulate so I won’t*. She’s started a new feature that involves dolls – mostly movie tie-ins, like Pirates of the Caribbean, or Lord of the Rings.

Yes, I realize that on a blog by a self-professed tomboy, there’s an entry about dolls. Bear with me for a moment.

A few months ago, she linked to THIS

That is the manliest doll in the history of men protesting that those plastic things they smash into each other are ‘action figures’. It has stubble. It has Christian Bale’s sneer. I want it.

There are a few things holding me back from whipping out my credit card. Ok, really, there’s just one:

I would have a postapocalyptic ‘action figure’ chilling in my room. And I’ve never really sat down and watched any of the Terminator movies, so its really just, ‘hey this is a freakishly lifelike representation of Christian Bale on a shelf near my bed. Wait, why are you backing away?’

This doesn’t mean I won’t actually go and see Terminator:Salvation - or however they’re punctuating it - but its not the mark of a die-hard fan but a wagon jumper who’s in it for the hot men. And the explosions. I really do like those.

On the other hand, I find absolutely nothing wrong with going to see a movie for the hot dudes running around in shredded fatigues, looking grim and seriously in need of a shower. God knows movie execs throw superfluous boobs around in movies that are already so packed with testosterone they kinda look like they’re overcompensating (The monster is right outside? Quick! Take off your top and…distract it? Yeah, that’ll save us from having to fix at least seven plot holes.)

I’ve read multiple accounts that McG, the director of the Terminator reboot, cut a scene where actress Moon Bloodgood takes off her top. He explained his action film’s shocking lack of nudity thus: “it felt more like a gratuitous moment of a girl taking her top off in an action picture, and I didn’t want that to convolute the story or the characters.” (You can read the interview here. Way to work ‘boobs’ into the title, SciFi)

My reaction to this was bemused surprise, rather than any sort of gratitude at being spared a shot of Bloodgood’s chest. I understand why breasts can be a bigger draw than fight scenes, and it doesn’t particularly offend my sensibilities to have them waved around. I have my own. I’m not terribly fascinated with them. There’s a shirtless man? Ok, producers, we’re cool. It’s Christian Bale? Here, I’ll show you mine!

*My Star Trek post was really intended to be more of a commentary, stream-of-consciousness sort of deal, lest you think I’m ripping her off, but I won’t deny that that’s where a lot of the inspiration came from. Now you know. P.S. Read her blog

Back home

Let's Blow Shit Up - A Star Trek Virgin's Take On The Reboot

2009-05-09T18:05:00.001-07:00

I’ve seen the ubiquitous trailers - there are hot men in jumpsuits; I’ll spring for a matinee ticket. Neither my girl friends nor I are terribly familiar with Star Trek, besides the sort of background noise that came from growing up in the late 80’s, early 90’s. But still, hot men, things blowing up good. I’m sold.

Mercifully there was no line, but the ticket guy made me repeat what movie I wanted. I cringed, and repeated ‘Star Trek’ as clearly as I could out of the corner of my mouth (my friend said the ticket seller made her repeat the film too, but only because she’d asked for one for the 4:30 Star Wars. Did I say Wars or Trek? I have no idea. At this point I’m not sure which has Klingons.)

Side note: I made a Klingon joke this afternoon, before we even brought up the movie, but it was from the Big Bang Theory and in no way my own.

The dude sitting in front of us in the (mostly empty) theater had a little tiny braid on the back of his head and my friend and I had the same reaction – ‘Jedi!’ Wow, nerd quotient met for the next year.

I ordered a medium coke slushie, but I’m fairly sure I could bathe in this thing. How the hell big is the large?

The Previews:

Summer at a glance. All the major blockbusters are represented:

Terminator – Christian Bale is rocking the Batman Growl, with a little less Eastwood, and whoever that half man-half machine is, I’d hit that. I’m liking the music too. Action movie trailers make me want to go run from explosions in slo-mo.

Transformers 2 – The only reason I saw the first one was because my boyfriend at the time was into it. He spent most of the movie detailing the roles of the various Transformers to me, and to this day I think it’s cute. Clearly, it was love.

G.I. Joe – I read enough movie blogs to call this one as soon as I see Sienna Miller in a wig. I like almost everyone more as a brunette – for her, I’ll make an exception. Still, Channing Tatum: yes please. I used to play with G.I. Joe’s all the time (what? I was not a Barbie girl) and I liked the story lines I came up with better than melting phallic monuments with bad CGI. My friend said she had no idea what it was, and I immediately told her. The title comes on screen. She stares at me until I look away.

Year 1: I’d see it. It looks goofy and adorable. I heart George Michael.

Finally, Star Trek

Which might as well have been called FIRE EVERYTHING! and would have still gotten the point across.

It opens twenty some odd years in the past. Or not quite as far into the future as the rest of it. Call it what you will.

Kirk’s dad is immediately recognizable, as he’s the hottest man on the ship and clearly has a crazy death wish. Even though I think he’s too hot to die, he does. He goes down with the ship in a fiery blaze of glory, giving Kirk something to live up to and thus creating the reason for this movie. And all before the title screen. Well done.

Tattooed Eric Bana – You killed hot older Kirk, and I still find you attractive. I always, always go for the villain in movies. And this one? Is sexy.

Disobeying authority AND driving regulations, young Kirk? I like you already. He drives a sweet muscle car into a gorge just for the hell of it. You know this dude is badass at like, 12.

‘Yo Mama’ seems to transcend cultural differences and gives us some young Vulcan-on-Vulcan action. (A few minutes after this alien interlude, my friend whispers something about the evil guys possibly being rogue Vulcans and I admit to not knowing what the hell that is. Despite the helpful title on the screen a few short scenes ago. Ah, yes. My femininity is intact. My memory, not so much.)

If Chris Pine were hitting on me in a bar, I’d absolutely go with it.

I want to feed Zoe Saldana a sandwich.

Ahaha even in the middle of a bar fight he goes for the boob grab. Well done, sir. I would probably not have minded.

The Starfleet cadets get shipped back to base while Captain Pike fanboys all over his idol's son and then dares him to enter Starfleet. And Kirk says yes because otherwise this would be a movie about going to a bar in Iowa.

As Kirk rides his motorcycle to the Starfleet base, my friend whispers ‘I bet he fucks great’. Me - ‘You already know he rides like a champ.’ The man in the next row hates us.

McCoy – not bad. Not bad at all, sir. I’m immediately reminded of the Eddie Izzard bit – ‘Jim Jim Christ Jim Jim me Bones Jim me McCoy how long have I known you? Jim me Spock Christ Spock Man Bones me Spock this boys dying of lurgy! Jim Spock me Christ me Bones’. Yes. Just like that. Look it up.

Heh. His ex got ‘the whole planet’.

Ah yes – I’ve heard of the green girls. Whatever, I know they have a name, I just don’t care. It’s a green chick in lingerie. I was under the impression that’s the whole point of Star Trek. The all-too-brief clip of Kirk sliding up her body is a bit of a let down after the trailers, as I’m sure Uhura efficiently stripping to her equally efficient underwear is disappointing to the men in the audience. Or not. They’re still boobs. And she does it while talking about Romulan frequencies so its not gratuitous at all. Still, whoever was in charge of picking underwear out for this movie had no imagination. And is Kirk in – tighty whities? No thank you, Captain! Still, underwear and a plot point in the same scene? Crafty.

We get some Starfleet Academy scenes. Really? Interstellar peacekeeping requires miniskirts? Really?

Kirk takes the apparently impossible captain exam, which is basically a simulation that you and your crew are all going to die. A little insensitive, no? Anyway, he fucks with the simulator, nearly causing Spock's pointy little ears to explode. Court martials ensue, and now Kirk can't go on the field trip into space. Rescue mission. Whatever.

Some great scenes occur once the action gets moving – McCoy injecting Kirk with some space disease to get him on the ship (sure, why not), another shot making Kirk’s hands swell like watermelons (Stop that!) another makes his tongue go numb (STOP THAT!) Still sexy. He has a how you doin’ moment while stricken with the space flu, and still manages to figure out the majority of the plot and save everyone on the Enterprise from destruction. Now THAT’S a man.

OH! The bad guys are Romulans! The what now?

The men go off to do manly things – like venture alone onto the Romulan ship, which is absolutely a trap. For your blatant machismo, Captain Pike, I salute you.

I would absolutely go atmospheric sky diving, except for the burning up on reentry part.

Even I know what a red shirt means. Olson is toast. Ouch, right in the parachute.

A fight ensues on the giant drill currently molesting planet Vulcan. Ooh sword fighting. I like that in my futuristic movies.

Oh sure, just like a man. Solve the problem by shooting the hell out of it. Eh, who am I to argue? It works.

The drill - and the Romulans - are toast, and now the Enterprise can warp. The damage has been done, however, and some antimatter looking shit causes Vulcan to start turning itself inside out.

More free falling, but this time with tangling men as Kirk tries to save the parachuteless Sulu. My friend – ‘I’d be in that man/man/lady.’

Chekov clearly spent a lot of time playing video games as a child. He’s got pasty skin and exemplary hand/eye coordination. You just know that kid knows how to handle a joystick. In his free time, I’m fairly sure he tries to get even with moose und squirrel.

Heheh ‘Wulcan’.

Captain!Spock deserts his ship to save his parents? Not very logical.

Despite being human, Spock’s mom, wrinkly Winona, seems to have a position of power on Vulcan, so that’s cool. And then she falls off a cliff. God, what is with the killing off parents in this movie? Oh yeah, it’s an origin story. Trauma ahoy!

Spock takes it like a man. A Vulcan man. He lost his mother and his planet to a big CGIey black hole? And still hasn’t cried? All we got out of his dad was a chagrined face.

At this point, I’m fairly sure the Vulcans are some sort of metaphor for uber masculinity – the cold logic in the face of absolutely everything, the detachment to emotional humans, who are the females of this scenario. And then you add ‘I’d hump the control desk’ Kirk. Hilarity ensues.

Uh, Uhura is macking on Spock? Bzu? Ahaha, she asks what he needs, he turns the elevator back on.

I think even Zoe Saldana has gone on record about being confused by this pairing.

There is zero chemistry between them, but then again, you know what they say about men with pointy ears.

Yeah, me neither.

All three of us cover our eyes when Nero brings out the brain leech to interrogate Pike. I’m not afraid to admit it. That shit is gross.

There is storming around in water and manly (Romumanly?) frustration but Pike DOES.NOT.YIELD. Until the brain leech, I don’t know. This doesn’t come back up (I learned while watching Superman Returns with an ex that you do not start pointing out plot holes in these movies).

Oh, that’s a handy way to placate anal fans that are shrieking about discontinuity: alternate timeline – shut the hell up. Sneaky, J.J. Abrams. You’d think you’ve had practice with this time travel stuff.

Spock orders a cowardly – but logical – retreat. Kirk begs to differ. He throws down with some red shirts (man those guys fold like tinfoil) until Spock does the pinchy thing.

As soon as Kirk gets dropped down onto Hoth I make a break for the bathroom – and miss him stumbling into Old Spock.

Hi Nimoy! I heard about you from the Big Bang Theory. This is in no way an implausible meeting. It’s a small universe after all.

They retreat to the cave of exposition and a few things are explained, like why the hell this in no way resembles the history of the original series. I’m guessing.

AlternateReality!Kirk knew his father. Sad face.

Ah, the Romulans were once peaceful, mining people who just happened to have a ship resembling a giant technosquid (At least there was one in a sci-fi movie this year. Yeah, I made a Watchmen joke. Yeah, I…watched the movie).

But then Nimoy!Spock failed to save planet Romulan but they decided he blew it up because, why not, and they swore revenge on him, even if it involved spending twenty-five years hovering around a time traveling black hole and blowing up innocent Kirks that got in their way. Yes. Let’s do that.

Then Nero gave Nimoy!Spock a front row seat to watch the destruction of Vulcan. That’s cold, man.

Ahhhh! Simon Pegg! I would have seen this for you alone. Scottish Simon makes me squeal. My friend – ‘I’d be in that man/man/lady.’ Me – ‘Fuck yeah…wait, not with Nimoy, right?’

AND he likes sandwiches. We’re soul mates.

Way to give him the equation, Nimoy!Spock. Not very logical. Could you be softening in your old age?

‘Yo mama’ makes a return and Spock throws down with Kirk. Aw yeah. I’d be in that man/man/lady.

Damn, Chris Pine even sits hot. Can I get a rewind? Please?

Spock begins to loosen up a little, leading to some nose nuzzling with Uhura. Kirk does a double take. Him?

It must take pointy ears to get into her sensible white undergarments.

Spock and Kirk go blundering onto the Romulan ship to stop the senseless consumption of Federation planets since Nero is, apparently, a vindictive little bitch and has decided that the only way he can grieve the loss of his wife and planet is by fucking over the rest of the galaxy.

There is much dramatic hopping from platform to platform.

Spock figures out the whole time travel/alternate Spock plot in about three seconds with his precise, logical mind. How many times have they said ‘logical’ in this movie? Is there a Vulcan drinking game?

He takes Nimoy!Spock’s ship – presumably to get it away from the Romulans – and then turns it around and drives it right back to them. Kirk, meanwhile, is getting his ass kicked as he is the only hero on the whole Romulan ship.

I want a medal for finishing that slushie.

‘Aha! I’ve got your gun!’ You’re so dumb, random Romulan, you deserve to die.

Kirk dangles by his fingertips. Again. Some more.

Red matter. Black holes. Those are so in this year.

Spock pulls a Kirk’s dad, but he has Scotty’s superior beaming power on his side and lives. Applause.

Nero’s ship blows up good and what remains is sucked into the lurking black hole. Gravity is thwarted (whatever, its space) and they all live! Yes, all of them. Some red shirts might have died, but they don’t count. Man, Starfleet insurance must be a bitch.

Really? The two Spocks meet and nothing apocalyptic happens? Did you use up your black hole quota for this movie already? Nimoy!Spock is practically cuddly at this point. Now he’s off, to restore the Vulcan race (how exactly? Wouldn’t the young, virile Spock be more useful at *ahem* restoring the race?).

My friend – ‘live long and shocker’.

Now it’s ‘Captain Kirk’ to you, bitch.

And thus history was made. And alternate history. Now, I need to go paint my toenails or something.

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