Saturday, February 28, 2009

The Shortest Month of the Year

Yes, tomorrow begins one of the longer months, spring break-time notwithstanding (2 weeks until Disneyland, only 2 more weeks!). Today was one of the few days that I seriously thought about getting a new cat, after stopping at Petco for cat food. Still, I'm fairly certain I didn't miss out on anything extra-special. Not to say the cats we saw for adoptions weren't all quite adorable (or as adorable as a cat can be when staring out the cold bars of a small metal cage), but with both of our cats, when we spent less than one minute with them, we knew.

Of course, I'm not supposed to have a favorite cat, but I do; our younger cat, a three-year old named Crookshanks. Yes, my wife and I have now fulfilled our small fanaticism to the Harry Potter series by naming both cats after characters from that world. With Crookshanks, it was an almost automatic connection, mostly because she was smart enough to suck up to me just the right amount. This was almost 2 and a half years ago, at the sole PetsMart in Flagstaff (is it PetSmart or PetsMart? You know what I mean, either way). Originally, we had just one cat, a Siamese named Hermione (her first name was Lolly, but what kind of name is that?). My in-laws were intending on giving us one of their cats, a Russian Blue named Tarot, but due to medical problems, Tarot passed on in late October of 2006.

The day after that sad news, I went to the pet store and, as I did all the time, walked over to the adoption center to look at the available cats and saw one named Fluffy. And she was a pretty big fluffball of a cat, and surprisingly similar-looking to Tarot, though the Russian Blue doesn't have wild fur like this Fluffy did. She looked quite playful in her little cage, but I was only able to do then what I always did: leave the adoption center. That night, however, my wife and I ended up going back to the pet store, where I pointed out Fluffy to her. Within a few minutes, in part because of my wife's cooing and in part because I was very close to wanting the cat more than my wife did, we wound up in the back of the adoption center, where the pet store employee opened up Fluffy's cage. She, I'm sure, didn't recognize me from earlier, but as soon as the cage opened, she began purring up a storm, rubbing against both of us. So, it was love.

And now we've had these two for quite a time, happy as clams are we all. But, you never know, maybe another cat is on the way. All depends on how they strike our fancy.

And with that, I close out February at this blog. Next month brings movie reviews and Disneyland. Be here or, as Apu said, kindly be square.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Some Miscellaneous Musings for a Friday Night

Hey, it's Friday night, and I know you've got nothing better to do than read this blog, so get your asses ready...

--I'm going through the British TV comedy "Spaced" for the first time. For those of you unaware, "Spaced" is the first major collaboration between Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright, along with Nick Frost and Jessica Stevenson. It's not a great laugh-out-loud comedy, but I realized a couple of episodes ago that I felt like I was in the same room with the characters; not that I wanted them to succeed, but that I felt like I was there. This show is awesome.

--Rick Santelli, Mr. Fat Cat Fool, will be on "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" next week. When it comes to potentially controversial figures, Stewart's either a very fierce and unforgiving interviewer or a very bland and uninterested interviewer. In this case, I hope sincerely he's the former; in the past, he has accurately argued that his show is not and should not be a bellwether for legitimate news sources, but in this case, I posit that Santelli's only guesting on the show because of his wacky rantings on CNBC and their popularity. Hopefully, Stewart brings out the metaphorical boxing gloves.

--I cannot wait to go to Disneyland. Just about two weeks left. Cannot wait.

--As truly dorky as it makes me sound, I still do harbor a deep love for the "Redwall" series of books, even though they are all flawed. In the same that "Spaced" makes me feel like a part of the proverbial family, so it goes for "Redwall," a series about, if you're unaware, woodland creatures often fighting weasels, rats, foxes, and stoats. Not sure why it works so well, but I really want to re-read the books. Also...there's going to be a movie in 2011? Why am I skeptical?

--I can't wait to rewatch Let The Right One In on Blu-ray when it comes out on the 10th of March. Why can't time go faster?

--As I mentioned on my Twitter feed yesterday, I seriously think that Ghost Town was the most underrated mainstream movie of 2008. Expect a review soon.

--Expect, also, a review of Toy Story 2 very soon, a look back. I'd go week-to-week here, but then there'd be a long gap in between my last Look Back and the May 29th release of Up. In fact, once I get through the Look Back at Bourne, I may begin another series, either of James Bond films or of Walt Disney features. Depends on my mood.

--Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is absolutely the best movie musical I've seen in a long time. Far better than anything else that came out this decade.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

How Quickly Did You Forget?

Just a quickie here, but for all the people like Rick Santelli, the ones raging against that evil fat cat Barack Obama and his plan to get people out of the housing crisis, or the banking crisis, or the next crisis coming up, let's not forget something: Obama walked into this firestorm, but did not start it.

When people like Rick Santelli go on television and accuse the White House Press Secretary of threatening him for his idiotic rantings on CNBC, they seem to forget that it's about time we realized that George Bush and his ilk got us into this mess. I appreciate civil debate, but the best people like Santelli can come out with is shouting about bad business and the potential of rewarding those who practice it. Not going to happen, idiot.

Read Me!

Here's a link to my inaugural A-List column at Box Office Prophets:

http://www.boxofficeprophets.com/column/index.cfm?columnID=11395

Enjoy!

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Quickly...

"We're not going to Guam, are we?" That was the best line of last week's fine installment of Lost. Five minutes can't go by quickly enough. Bring on more show!

A Final Thought or Two

I love how people champion an idea that essentially says "Opposing and/or critical thought is bad! Let's be sheep!" Congrats for sticking your heads even deeper up your own asses, folks. We're all allowed to have differing opinions, hence our own fucking nature.

Also, if the Oscars ceremony was meant to tell a story about how a movie is made, from pre- to post-production, why was the first award given out to the Best Supporting Actress nominees? Do they bring something similar to the art direction process I wasn't aware of?

Monday, February 23, 2009

Sigh...

Oh, the Oscars. I'll make this as quick as I can, but I wanted to add some thoughts to the proceedings from last night. I had presumed, incorrectly, based on the rumors coming out of Hollywood, that last night's 81st Academy Awards ceremony would be either the best or the worst the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences had to offer us. And, of course, it was neither of those things, despite what you may see elsewhere (no, David Poland, it was not that great, calm down).

Hugh Jackman was quite good, or at least much better than I and my lowered expectations assumed. However, the material was far less entertaining, even though the opening musical number was charming if a bit frenzied. Unfortunately, the lengthy sequence at the halfway point of the ceremony, choreographed by Baz Luhrmann (bad Baz, bad!), was about as bad as it gets. No, it wasn't Rob Lowe and Snow White bad, but Hugh Jackman should politely refuse to perform with five or six other people who are all performing other songs while he sings from "West Side Story" next time.

What's more, producers Bill Condon and Laurence Mark apparently felt it was more appropriate to award unoriginal music and stuff three completely original songs into a four-minute montage, capped off with three people singing three completely different songs at the same time, with no harmony at all. Oh, and also? Just because Mamma Mia made a lot of money in the UNITED KINGDOM does not mean the musical is back in the UNITED STATES. What a desperate point to make (especially when there has been at least one musical released in the United States since 2001's Moulin Rouge, including a Best Picture winner).

The Best Original Song montage was a true mess, not helped by the fact that no one seemed to care that having a song from a futuristic animated film set to Indian dance just doesn't make any goddamn sense. Also, though not having Peter Gabriel (who did the right thing by backing out, by the way) singing his own song is bad, having someone as usually talented as John Legend is bad, if that talented someone can't remember the lyrics to the song he's supposed to sing on national television.

Before I get to my final Stephen Colbert-esque wags of my finger, I do want to say that a great idea, one I hope is used in ceremonies to come, is having past acting winners honor the current year's nominees. Most people have not and will not see Melissa Leo's Oscar-nominated performance in Frozen River, so they will learn far more from having a past acting winner go over her immense talents. Also, I found Tina Fey and Steve Martin quite witty (my guess is that they took a crack at their section, writing-wise, and went to town), and the same for the short film starring Seth Rogen, James Franco, and Janusz Kaminski, who's at least game for kidding around.

Back to the negative. Having Queen Latifah sing over the In Memoriam segment is, at best, questionable. She's a fine singer and was very tasteful in her presentation; her talents are not my problem, but her presence during a somber scene is. Just show the damn slideshow, no flash, no glitz. Also, next time, try to actually SHOW THE FUCKING SLIDESHOW. Who could recognize Cyd Charisse's name or the face of Ned Tanen without squinting? Just hook up the slideshow to the main camera, let the audience at home see it fill their TV screens, and do nothing else. For shame, guys.

Next, I had particular anger directed towards Sean Penn and Bill Maher. Maher first. I'm a liberal, and I sometimes watch Maher's show; I also did see his comedic documentary Religulous, and you know what? Not a great documentary. Even if it was, the right time to bitch about not getting nominated is not when you're presenting an award for Best Documentary Feature. What's more, who thought it was a wise idea to have him present the award for which he was eligible and did not get nominated? Smart move, folks. Even still, Maher was inappropriate and, even worse, not funny (did he leave his comic timing at home?).

Sean Penn. Sigh, Sean Penn. Your opinion does not matter any more than mine does. Don't let all those cameras fool you. I don't care what you think about gay rights. I agree with your stance, but I do not care. No one outside of Hollywood cares. That you won is not great, but not undeserved. Your acceptance speech is not a platform for your opinions. I do not care, and the more you talk, the more people who may be swayed to your opinion will sway themselves away from you. So, Sean, do me a favor and don't forget: you were once Spicoli. You are now a fine actor, but you were once Spicoli.

In regards to the actual awards, there were few surprises, fewer great speeches. I've already said my peace in terms of that, so let's just move onto 2009 and, hopefully, a far stronger batch of movies. That said, I am now officially done being bilious and vitriolic about an awards ceremony. I feel like I need to wash the Nikki Finke bitchiness right outta my hair, don't you think?

Fanboys Redux

Take a look at the Fanboys review on a fancy website!

http://www.boxofficeprophets.com/column/index.cfm?columnID=11382

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Fanboys

Copyright 2009, The Weinstein Company

So much of a struggle and for so little. I'm almost sorry to have to say that Fanboys, the movie that some thought would never be released, is just not that funny. I did laugh at this movie, more than I thought I would, actually, but it will end up being more memorable for its long and hard battle to get to mainstream movie theaters than for its actual content. In short, Fanboys is a 90-minute mess, but the actors are so charming and likable, and the cameos are so plentiful and random, it's almost worth giving a pass.

First, a bit of history for the unaware. Fanboys, a road-trip comedy set in late 1998 about four Star Wars geeks trying to break into George Lucas' Skywalker Ranch to see an early version of Episode I: The Phantom Menace, was meant to be released on August 17...of 2007. Once reshoots were scheduled, the release was put back to April 2008. However, by that time, news had broken that the film's original director, Kyle Newman, was taken off the project and replaced by Steven Brill (the great auteur behind Little Nicky and Without a Paddle); what's more, the driving force of the road trip--one of the geeks had cancer and would be dead before the official release of Episode I--was being taken out. Of course, a storm of fanboy and fangirl anger arose and, eventually, Brill was taken off and Newman came back in to finish the project. Still, The Weinstein Company, the distributor, waited until February 2009 to show the movie, and only in a few major markets.

After having seen Fanboys, the question I've got is this: why? Why would the Weinsteins, Harvey and Bob, wait so long to release this movie? No, it's no great shakes, but still, with a cast of familiar actors (Kristen Bell and Jay Baruchel, both regulars of Judd Apatow comedies, are two of the geeks) and enough Star Wars references in pop culture, why didn't the Weinsteins just release this movie last year, and not hide it? Of course, Fanboys won't be raking in much money, thanks in part to that strange releasing strategy, and thanks in part to the complete lack of advertising (unless you happen to have seen some ads for it on TV, in which case you are a rare and lucky person).

Unfortunately, with the extended amount of post-production, it's obvious that the current iteration of Fanboys is a far truer definition of the concept of a film designed by committee than most recent projects. The storyline about Linus, the geek played by Christopher Marquette, having cancer remains, and is somewhat of a driving force, but Linus never acts or appears sick, and the illness itself is almost never mentioned; once the character passes on at the end, no one seems to act as if he's gone forever, but as if he's just gone to the bathroom and will be back soon. Another subplot with Eric (Sam Huntington), the sole geek who's trying to become a normal, non-geeky, car salesman but really wants to be a comic-book artist, is rarely talked about, also, except during a strange and psychedelic dream/drug sequence.

Yes, I know what you're saying. "Why is there a drug sequence?" Well, think of it this way: if there wasn't, would we have the random cameo by Danny Trejo? I mean, the man has to eat, and if Robert Rodriguez doesn't start making more movies, Trejo will be on the street. His cameo appearance is one of many and one of the least memorable. The largest role by one of the big cameo stars is given to Seth Rogen, who actually plays three different characters, two of whom fight each other at one point. Even though Rogen's obviously having a lot of fun (especially as a die-hard Star Trek geek), you have to wonder if he owed someone on the film some money for showing up so often in the film. Other big cameos come from Ethan Suplee (playing Ain't It Cool News' founder, Harry Knowles), William Shatner, Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams, Will Forte, Danny McBride, Kevin Smith, and Jason Mewes (the last two are in the same scene, which is quite funny even if it feels completely out of place).

Yes, the cast is large and filled with lots of funny and/or self-aware people (how else could Lando Calrissian himself agree to play a police official named Judge Reinhold?), and it's basically because of their hard work to make the weak script, by Ernest Cline, Dan Pulick, and Adam F. Goldberg, seem funnier than it is that Fanboys is enjoyable and bearable at the same time. Also, one of the themes that keeps trying to make itself heard--the pure love people have for not just Star Wars but a true moviegoing experience--is strong enough that I couldn't help but want these geeks, from Linus and Eric to Dan Fogler's Hutch and Baruchel's Windows, to get to Skywalker Ranch, to get to see the movie. Despite this movie's messy structure, wanting these characters to reach their goal is a far better outcome than the filmmakers could have imagined.

Fanboys isn't a great movie, but let's be honest: if you've gotten this far in the review, you probably know if you want to see it. Hell, you could probably answer the many Star Wars trivia questions posed in the film without any hesitation, and name how many references and quotes are thrown around. For the rest of us (or at least those of us who aren't as quick to answer those questions), let's just say that Fanboys is a funny if predictable movie featuring actors who do their best to elevate the material, even when they're not arguing if Luke always had a thing for Leia (the answer there is that he sure did, until he found out they were related, of course).

Three stars out of four


Oscar Predictions 2009

Copyright 2009, AMPAS

Well, there are only a few hours left, so I believe it's about the right time to pull my seat up at the table and make my Oscar predictions. Oh, sure, the table I'm sitting it is filled with about a billion other people, throwing their two cents in, but hey, I must get points for being last, right? Either way, take these with a grain of salt, and do expect some wishful thinking and snark in these predix. Enjoy.

Best Picture

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Frost/Nixon

Milk

The Reader

Slumdog Millionaire

Will Win: Slumdog Millionaire. Though this is not a category that can be defined as "sure thing," the idea that this movie will not win would be a major surprise, even if it doesn't remotely deserve the award.

Should Win: The Dark Knight. No, wait, that wasn't nominated. OK, WALL-E. Oh, sorry, also not a nominee. Thanks a lot, Academy! Make sure to continue alienating yourself from the people you make movies for as the years continue, folks. Seriously, though, this category has next to no movies I want to see again, so it's hard to make a decision. However, if you forced me, the movie that should win, of these five, on a solely shallow level, is Frost/Nixon. As much as that movie doesn't deserve to win among the best five of the year, it's the best of the five that were nominated.

Best Director

Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire

Stephen Daldry, The Reader

David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon

Gus Van Sant, Milk

Will Win: Danny Boyle. Though I'm not a fan of his film, there's no two ways about it: his flashy techniques coupled with the great cinematography made this movie go a lot quicker than it should have. Its flaws aside, Boyle's style wins out here.

Should Win: Boyle, for the reasons above.

Best Actor

Richard Jenkins, The Visitor

Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon

Sean Penn, Milk

Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

Will Win: Rourke, I hope. Honestly, it's between Penn and Rourke; any other of the nominees accepting the award tonight would be a huge surprise, on the same level as a surprise in Best Picture. The only one here who doesn't deserve a damn thing is Pitt, who's usually good but quite passive in the epic Button. My hope is that Rourke will win out with voters, though, as he absolutely deserves it most and delivers the best performance of all.

Should Win: Rourke, of course. Penn's great, but Randy "The Ram" is a great character that will last for years. Here's to hoping.

Best Actress

Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married

Angelina Jolie, Changeling

Melissa Leo, Frozen River

Meryl Streep, Doubt

Kate Winslet, The Reader

Will Win: Winslet, probably. Her better performance in 2008 wasn't nominated, and there's a possibility that her role as an ex-SS guard shouldn't be considered a lead, but she's long overdue, and politics will probably trump quality.

Should Win: Hathaway, for giving a great performance in a mediocre movie filled with mostly unrealistic people.

Best Supporting Actor

Josh Brolin, Milk

Robert Downey, Jr., Tropic Thunder

Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt

Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight

Michael Shannon, Revolutionary Road

Will Win: Take three guesses, and the first two don't count. If Heath Ledger does not win, well...it was nice knowing the Oscars, but I'd never watch them again. Why waste my time? It's his, or it damn well oughta be.

Should Win: Ledger.

Best Supporting Actress

Amy Adams, Doubt

Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Viola Davis, Doubt

Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler

Will Win: This is a toss-up category, truly. All five nominees are worthy and none are frontrunners, so who knows? Davis might win, Adams, or even Henson. My money right now is on Tomei, making another surprise victory; at least this time it'd be deserved.

Should Win: Cruz, actually, in an Anne Hathaway scenario: great role, mediocre movie.

Best Original Screenplay

Dustin Lance Black, Milk

Courtney Hunt, Frozen River

Mike Leigh, Happy-Go-Lucky

Martin McDonagh, In Bruges

Andrew Stanton, Jim Reardon, and Pete Docter, WALL-E

Will Win: I'm sticking fast with this one: WALL-E. It's likely going to be this or Milk, but I have probably misplaced my hopes that the voters won't choose the movie with the issue, just because there's an issue movie. And, anyway, the environment's a damn important issue, too.

Should Win: WALL-E, even if some idiots think that when a movie has little dialogue, it has no worthy script. If you think this about WALL-E, you are a moron.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Simon Beaufoy, Slumdog Millionaire

David Hare, The Reader

Peter Morgan, Frost/Nixon

Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

John Patrick Shanley, Doubt

Will Win: Beaufoy, no question.

Should Win: Like Picture, this is a hard one, but I'm leaning toward Morgan. Unlike Shanley, he didn't feel the need to literalize every idea in the movie, he kept things well-paced, involving, engaging, and so on. So, Morgan.

Best Animated Feature

Bolt

Kung Fu Panda

WALL-E

Will Win: As with Supporting Actor, let's just cut the crap: WALL-E wins or I walk and so do many film fans. Let's hope these folks aren't influenced by the idiots at the Annie Awards.

Should Win: WALL-E.

I'm going to stop here; the rest are technical awards and the two music awards. My final guess is this: the film with the most awards will be WALL-E, winning all six of its nominated categories. You heard here first. Coming up later today is a review of Fanboys, which is not a great movie, but you should support it anyway, to stick it in Harvey Weinstein's face. Otherwise, enjoy the show tonight, which, based on the scuttlebutt, will either be a great ceremony or on the same level as Rob Lowe and Snow White singing "Proud Mary." See you back here afterwards.


Saturday, February 21, 2009

Battlestar Galactica: Season 2

Copyright 2009, Universal Pictures

It took a long time, much longer than I predicted, for me to realize exactly how great Battlestar Galactica is. Yeah, I know, I made a massive mistake in missing the show to begin with (but can you forgive me? That miniseries is awfully slow and exposition-heavy). However, with most shows that hook me in completely, it doesn't take until the end of the second season to make me drop my jaw, to understand how cool a show can be. For Lost, it came in the fourth episode, when we all found out that John Locke was in a wheelchair before crashing on the mysterius island. For Veronica Mars, it came around midseason, when we found out that Logan, the resident jackass on the show, was living with a truly horrible father. For The Wire, it came when Kima got shot and everyone rallied around to find out who brought her down.

But, for this show, it came not with that glorious, shocking caption--"One Year Later"--but with the realization that the show was not going to end with that. Ronald D. Moore, the show's new executive producer, took the show to a new level. At least, I finally grasped how much these characters felt real to me, from my shock that Chief Tyrol is now a union organizer and is married/engaged/sleeping with Cally, who's pregnant (and this is all after Tyrol beats her face to a pulp because of a heated nightmare); that Apollo is still commander of the Pegasus, with Dualla at his side, while he gains a lot of weight; that Starbuck is married to Anders and has had a major rift with Apollo; that Baltar's president, but with as many hookers as possible.

OK, yes, the two-part finale of season 2 is what's really getting me going here (why isn't season 3 on Netflix's Instant Play? Why?). Still, the entire season was stronger, and felt more complete than season 1. My only real problem with season 1 was the inclusion of a character who felt like he was just there to cause trouble without having a solid, organic reason for existing. Yes, that character pops up plenty in season 2, the ex-terrorist Tom Zarek (Richard Hatch), but he feels more ingrained with the show. It could help that his first line of the season, a sarcastic jibe about democracy aimed at Col. Tigh (the great, gruff Michael Hogan), made me laugh, or it could help that his shady backdoor dealings made a lot more sense this time.

Yeah, there weren't perfect episodes, but the show is overall incredibly entertaining and fascinating. Shows like Battlestar Galactica don't come along a lot, but I'm glad that the show's been able to last through as long as its creators feel necessary. I'm even gladder about the fact that a prequel, Caprica, is on its way next year. This is one show I'll watch from the beginning; here's hoping it's worth it, but my guess is I have nothing to worry about. With regards to the big show, though, I'm willing to say that, with its layered characters, strong acting (as weaselly as Gaius Baltar is, James Callis does everything possible to make the character human, believable, and even funny), especially from the two biggest names (Edward James Olmos and Mary McDonnell, both fantastic), action setpieces, and big twists (I mean, Cally's pregnant!), Battlestar Galactica may be as good as Lost, which remains the best show on television. As long as the conclusion to this big finale (Baltar surrendered to the Cylons!) doesn't screw the pooch, I expect the show to be a classic in my book.


Friday, February 20, 2009

Oh, What a Fool am I

Baltar becomes President. A year passes. A year! He surrenders to the Cylons. Tyrol's a union leader and with Cally. Apollo's fat and with Dualla.

How stupid I am for missing this show when it first aired. How brilliant it is. More tomorrow.

A year! How frakking awesome is that?

Thursday, February 19, 2009

3 Days

3 days until the Oscars. In the next day or so, I'll add in my predictions, making me the billionth to do so. I doubt there'll be many surprises, but it's good for me to put it out there, if only so I can actually put it out there.

Elsewhere, even though I am going to see Watchmen, I honestly have little hope for this year's movies. It's a bad year for movies, I say; early, yes, but I have a bad feeling. Finally, I am officially an idiot for not watching The Wire and Battlestar Galactica when they originally aired. It sucks to catch up on DVD.

Don't you believe me more about the year in film now that you've learned that last part? Yeah, I thought not.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

A Tiny Thought

Someone over at Fox has some serious brass balls to crow about putting an ad for a summer movie during the most popular show on television. I mean, it's as if they just realized that when 25-odd million people watch a program, they sometimes pay attention to the commercials! What a crazy invention. Morons.

Monday, February 16, 2009

A Look Back at Pixar: A Bug's Life

Copyright 1998, Walt Disney Pictures

For many people, A Bug's Life is the movie that didn't happen. OK, that might be a bit dramatic, but the honest truth is that this is Pixar's least-remembered movie, despite all of its many charms. Yes, 2006's Cars was, perhaps, more successful at the box office (making almost $90 million more than this story of ants vs. grasshoppers), but the story there was just as weak while the animation was just as colorful. Does A Bug's Life get a bad rap? Is this a forgotten gem?

Well, yes and no. I don't think I'm alone in stating two things here: Pixar hasn't made a bad movie, but their weakest effort is Cars, even if it was especially successful in its merchandising. A Bug's Life absolutely has flaws, some of which are similar to those in Cars, but its humor and action are far more entertaining and captivating, especially in the lengthy, rain-drenched climax. The most interesting shared flaw between the films is that they both crib plots from previous movies, moreso than others. For Cars, the idea of the hotshot learning to appreciate small-town values isn't unique to one movie, but Michael J. Fox's starring turn in Doc Hollywood is the film I always think of, with regards to Lightning McQueen. For A Bug's Life, the film is Seven Samurai or its American counterpart, The Magnificent Seven. Having the plot twist of making the "warriors" not warriors at all is also not too unique to this movie.

In watching this film again, though, I found it interesting to note a flaw in A Bug's Life I'd never noticed before: for a movie that runs less than 100 minutes, there's too much going on. The main character, an inventor ant named Flik (voiced by Dave Foley), has a love story with Princess Atta (voiced by Julia Louis-Dreyfus), and has to deal with being thought of as inadequate in his colony, and has to get to warrior bugs, and has to lie about them not being warrior bugs. Then, the circus bugs that get roped in as warriors have storylines, whether it's the masculine ladybug Francis (voiced by Denis Leary, a very inspired pick) learning to accept his feminine nature or Slim (voiced by David Hyde Pierce) dealing with always being typecast. No, they wouldn't make up an entire movie, but with the actual story (of ants choosing to fight against the bullying grasshoppers who hoard their food every summer) hovering around, it's hard to decide what John Lasseter and friends wanted to focus on.

Still, I do love this movie, despite its flaws and my hopeless wishes (why couldn't Kevin Spacey, as the villainous Hopper, have more to do here?). Most of the choices the filmmakers made were inspired, such as having the raindrops sound like missiles and seeing the thought process behind bugs being attracted to those deadly blacklights. When the film comes out on Blu-ray, I'm definitely picking it up. Story aside, this film is a huge jump in animation for the folks at Pixar. I mentioned last time, when talking about Toy Story, that the animation was small-scale, even when venturing outside a house. A Bug's Life, however, is nothing near small-scale, as the animators utilize the backgrounds of nature to the best of their abilities. Though Pixar would make more colorful films in the future (because of the environment they've chosen to animate here, much of the background is tan-colored), the innovation of the venture is clear, even in scenes where color is nowhere to be found; a great example of that is when Hopper and Flik make a final ascent into the black and rainy sky.

One final note about A Bug's Life: this was the first film that helped define Pixar as more clever than anything else, as the fake outtakes appeared first here, lasting until 2003's Finding Nemo. I've never really been sure about why Pixar did this for only a few films (I'm not counting the John Ratzenberger jokes in the end credits of Cars here, as funny as those were), but kicking the outtakes to the curb have helped establish Pixar as a far more serious group of people. That's not to say the outtakes aren't funny (posing Hopper-the-actor as a prima donna is a smart joke), but they're not missed. Next time, though, we'll be looking at some more outtakes in what is one of the best sequels ever: 1999's Toy Story 2.


Sunday, February 15, 2009

A Look Back at Jason Bourne: The Bourne Identity

Copyright 2002, Universal Pictures

I have to confess something bad: I do not like the Jason Bourne series. Or, rather, I'm not particular to the trilogy of films starring Matt Damon as an amnesiac CIA black-ops trying to figure out who he used to be pre-memory failure; so much am I not a Bourne person that I've only seen the first two films, 2002's The Bourne Identity and 2004's The Bourne Supremacy, and the latter I saw twice in theaters.

However, I'm a human, so I'm imperfect. For example, the first film I saw the weekend of my high school graduation with my father, uncle, and my uncle's girlfriend. So I can safely say that I was distracted a bit when I noticed that, for a good half of the film, my uncle (well into his forties in 2002) and his girlfriend were making out like two kids fresh out of ninth grade. That is honestly all I remember from the first film; that and noticing that Clive Owen and Julia Stiles must have good enough agents to have their faces plastered all over the film's marketing despite being in about 15 minutes, each, of the actual product.

The second film I saw twice over its opening July 2004 weekend. The first time, I was in the second row and focused more on craning my neck, and I fell asleep on the lap of my soon-to-be girlfriend (and future wife) the second time I saw it. It's fair to say that none of these viewing experiences were helpful to my enjoyment of these movies. With the success of those films and, especially, 2007's The Bourne Ultimatum, I feel like I definitely missed out on Jason Bourne and his attraction to so many people. Like with Battlestar Galactica, whose second season I will finally start watching this week, I feel the need to start over with a fresh slate; having the Bourne series released on Blu-ray as a box set helped, so I'm taking a look back at the series, starting at the beginning.

To those on the edges of their seats, hoping I won't dash their hopes by sticking to my original summation, take a breath. I most certainly enjoyed The Bourne Identity. No, I didn't love it, but considering that I pretty much disliked it upon first viewing, this is a major step up. I realized about 25 minutes in, as Bourne stealthily climbed down a U.S. Consulate building in Zurich, that I was hooked. Still, I'm curious to see how much of a tonal shift (let alone the change in cinematography) will come with the final two Bourne films, both helmed by Paul Greengrass. Doug Liman's the director of Identity, and proves more than able in filming most of the action, though it seems that Bourne's hand-to-hand combat, at least in the early going, has some sped-up photography, making it clear that Damon probably wasn't involved.

The plot is something you're probably familiar with: a man washes up next to an Italian fishing boat and, when revived, has no memory of who he is. However, he is fluent in multiple languages and has a bank account number embedded in a chip found on his hip and, once he visits that bank, realizes that he has lots of money, lots of fighting skills, and lots of passports with different names. Taking the most popular name on the passports, Jason Bourne, he tries to figure out who he was while taking on a sidekick-cum-love interest, Marie (Franka Potente, a little calmer than in the 2000 classic actioner, Run Lola Run). Meanwhile, a CIA agent (Chris Cooper) tries to wipe Bourne out, with the help of three top assassins.

What surprises me most about The Bourne Identity is how little action there is. It's not a negative, certainly, but aside from a Parisian car chase in the middle of the film and a couple short shootouts (including the incredibly cool final battle in an apartment building), it's hard to classify this as an action film, despite how much Universal Pictures tried when originally marketing the movie. There's more here about the ins and outs of spy work and the soullessness of the job (Owen, who plays one of the assassins, gets in a good line in his final scene, reflecting how much he and other assassins--Bourne, for example--are asked to give for such dark work). Bourne, of course, wants none of his past once he realizes that he wasn't involved in shipping. Though I'm not too clear on how he gets back to fighting off government agents and the like in the sequel, I know exactly how successful his dreams of living in Greece with Marie will be.

The shock is that Liman and screenwriters Tony Gilroy and William Blake Herron make the drama work and don't make the audience restless for action. What action there is impresses, but doesn't bring on a sense of overkill. Potente and Damon have a solid chemistry and never seem forced, even when undressed. If there's any flaw in the film, it's that the villains, especially Cooper, seem underdeveloped. We know that Cooper and his superior, played by Brian Cox, want Bourne taken in, we know that Cooper was part of a black-ops mission to kill a power-mad African dictator (hey, Mr. Eko!), but there's very little more to it. In fact, the Treadstone group seems a bit slow in trying to capture Bourne, appearing only when it's truly a threat, not when it's surprising; the only time there's any real surprise in the story is when Mr. Eko (OK, it's not his real name, but you know who I mean) is taken out. I hope that the government's position will be strengthened and spelled out clearer in the final two films.

I realize that most of you, if not all of you, will read this and wonder why it's taken me six years to figure out that The Bourne Identity is a damn good movie, when everyone else came to that decision a while back. Well, it's hard to move off a first opinion, even when the consensus is otherwise. Despite my dislike of the first two films, it's a testament to Damon and Greengrass that, when ads for Ultimatum started popping up, some part of me was genuinely curious to see what happened, even if I had no solid memory of what happened previously. Though I've made that mistake once, I won't make it again. If, however, you're like me, someone who wasn't swayed by Jason Bourne the first time around, take my advice: rent this, Netflix it, or even buy it...just don't turn your back on this series yet. By the time The Bourne Identity was over, I felt exactly as Paul Rudd had in The 40-Year Old Virgin: "You know, I always thought Matt Damon was a Streisand, but he's really kicking some ass here." And, hey, Rudd wasn't even referring to the first Bourne movie, so I'm actually pretty excited to see what comes next for the beleaguered CIA spy.

Check back next week for the next installment of "A Look Back at Jason Bourne." For those interested, "A Look Back at Pixar" will continue tomorrow with 1998's A Bug's Life.




Saturday, February 14, 2009

And I Do Believe...

Robin Williams was in town last night, and is again tonight. Why, for just over 900 dollars, you and your sweetheart can see him tonight in the first five rows, and even have a "meet-and-greet" with the legendary comedian...you, your sweetheart, and the other 75 people in those five rows.

Before I get to that truly disturbing idea, let's talk about the actual show that went on last night in downtown Phoenix at the Dodge Theatre. Williams is...well, he's Robin Williams. No one went in last night expecting the rat-a-tat funnyman to be anything unlike what he exudes on talk shows, on TV, and in film, and no one left disappointed. If you like Robin Williams' style, you're likely going to enjoy his new material (which appears to be headed for a DVD release, if last night's show--featuring shots of audience members laughing on the two video screens hanging over Williams--is any indication), which is exactly like his old material. Pop-culture references? Check. Jokes about recent news figures like Michael Phelps and Barack Obama? Check. Rampant profanity? Check. Sex jokes? Check. It's all there. Of course, if you don't like Williams, stay away.

As a kid, I loved this guy. Even when I was a teenager, I caught his show in Cleveland and was duly impressed. Last night, however, I felt like picking apart his flaws, even though the show was consistently funny. Only a few times did I laugh out loud because of something truly unexpected (his comparison of Dick Cheney at Obama's inauguration to Old Man Potter in It's A Wonderful Life was the first time I did so); otherwise, I smiled and chuckled. Oddly, Williams' final 25-30 minutes was his strongest, including a lengthy section on what it would have been like if people actually did design the human genital region. The first hour was filled with lots of good jokes, but some stumbles and plenty of segues that never make any sense (such as the title, even if that one didn't pop up into his repertoire). Overall, a good show.

Was it worth 75 a pop, for tickets in what amounted to the 35th row? Not so much, counting the squashed-in seats and parking snafu. But, I didn't spend 442 a seat to sit in the first five rows, and get an autographed pic of Williams, and get a meet-and-greet. First of all, what would a meet-and-greet be? Aren't the best celebrity encounters the unplanned ones? Even getting some kind of backstage pass is different. Part of the show, for this man, is meeting complete strangers, doing some kind of riff (presumably), and signing a picture of himself. Considering that the tickets right behind the VIP seats were 95 a pop, Robin Williams apparently presumes his time is worth over 300 of my dollars. I love his movies (well, most of them), but give me a break.

For those unlucky enough to see him yet, just wait for it to pop up on HBO or DVD soon enough. Better keep that money in your pockets.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Coraline Redux

Read my review of Coraline on Box Office Prophets:

http://www.boxofficeprophets.com/column/index.cfm?columnID=11343

Do it now!

Spider-Man 3

Here's how disappointing a filmgoing experience Spider-Man 3 was for the second time: no picture. This one deserves no visual aid for you. The question I have after the slog on Blu-ray is what justification anyone can provide for this awful, awful movie. It runs nearly 150 minutes long, has two action sequences set around a construction site, two musical numbers, and it just never seems to stop.

How do you justify this mess? Sam Raimi, he who created the two masterful previous Spider-Man films, chose to take what good he'd done and completely screw it up with this film. The end of the second movie left us with Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) and Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst) in love and knowing it, and Harry Osborne (James Franco) knowing that Peter was not only Spider-Man, but the man responsible for his father's death. So this film, obviously, screws up the Peter-Mary Jane relationship and throws Harry into a coma for one hour of the movie, so he can conveniently forget why he's got a bone to pick with his pal.

Moreover, every major plot of this film could take up its own movie. Instead of having Peter deal with his celebrity and Venom, the mysterious outer-space ooze, or just have Spidey fight the Sandman, or have Spidey just fight Hobgoblin, we get everything and we get nothing. There's nothing but rushing going on here, as Raimi rushes to give us bare-bones exposition on Flint Marko (a wasted Thomas Haden Church), the escaped convict, who-killed-Uncle-Ben-but-he's-good-really, who becomes Sandman; and Eddie Brock (Topher Grace), who apparently likes being angry despite never proving it until he becomes Venom, the slimy photographer in love with Gwen Stacey (Bryce Dallas Howard, proving very good in yet another piece of garbage). Oh, and then there's Mary Jane's Broadway career, Peter turning into a disco duck (seriously, who saw that dancing footage and thought it was a good idea?), and Bruce Campbell as a French waiter. OK, the French waiter bit is almost kind of funny, but the rest is awful.

And all that time on the script apparently meant no time for special effects. It's rare to see a big-budget action movie so blatantly ballsy about how fake it is. At no point does anything on the screen, with the exception of the Sandman, at times, look even remotely real. Yes, there's not a guy suited up as Spider-Man, swinging webs around New York City. But, there's a way to make me believe it in the movie. Especially on Blu-ray, this is a film that looks incredibly fake and is, in many more ways than one.

One star out of four

More Reason to Not Watch the Oscars

According to Variety, Peter Gabriel will not perform his song "Down to Earth" from the brilliant WALL-E, because the new producers only wanted him to perform a minute of the song in a medley of the THREE nominated songs. Gabriel thought he'd perform the whole thing and is, thus, protesting by not showing up.

Though I am massively disappointed, if the producers of the Oscars can't fit 10 minutes in for three songs....they're crazy. I hate to be childish, but...this sucks.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Groundhog Day

Copyright 2009, Columbia Pictures

There's a scene in 1993's classic comedy Groundhog Day that helps solidify its status as one of the best ever, and certainly the film with Bill Murray's finest performance. Phil Connors (Murray), a once-jerky Pittsburgh TV weatherman stuck repeating February 2nd over and over in the small town of Punxsutawney, PA, is in the local diner. Sitting next to him is Rita (Andie MacDowell), his folksy producer. He's gone through Groundhog Day thousands of times, and is now telling her the truth. To prove it, he walks her through the diner, pointing out incredibly personal morsels of various patrons' and waitresses' lives. Then, he sways Rita by predicting when her cameraman, Larry (Chris Elliott), will enter the diner and what he will say.

So the scene keeps going, and Phil and Rita spend the entire day together, talking and becoming far closer than she, at least, could have ever predicted in so short a time. That night, they lie on his hotel bed and, as she falls asleep, he bares his soul and reveals his feelings for her. He loves her and always has, even if he's afraid to admit it now. She's been groggy the entire time, but wakes up at the very end of his monologue to wish him a good night. He nods and then slowly falls asleep. The clock buzzes and...it's still February 2nd. Rita is gone and will have no memory of what happened. Most movies would end here, present a schmaltzy romantic climax and send Phil and Rita off into the February 3rd sunrise. Not this film.

What makes this movie work so well still, after over 15 years? Yes, having Bill Murray in peak form, snarky even when he reforms, helps magnificently, as does the expert yet understated Harold Ramis at the helm as director. But there's something else, something universal. It's not just that everyone wonders, once or twice, what it would be like to go back and live a day over again. It's the stages that Phil goes through that relates to us. He goes from denial to frustration to hedonism to suicide to acceptance. Phil takes a long time to accept the town he's surrounded by, even after he knows all its secrets. Before then, we can only marvel, even in the dark moments, about what Phil's doing. Wouldn't we all love to do things more than once? Wouldn't we want to perfect our skills at something? And wouldn't we, after a time, want to kill ourselves from the monotony of doing it all over again?

Despite that section of the movie where Phil tries to kill himself to finish everything going on again and again, Groundhog Day is one of those great movies that you can always go back to. If, one day, February 2nd became a day when TBS or TNT showed this film for 24 hours straight, much like A Christmas Story on Christmas Day, would it surprise you? This film is like a warm blanket, something comfortable to put on. We laugh at Phil's initial irritation at the Punxsutawney locals, we chuckle at his foolish choices, we very nearly cry as he falls in love with a woman who can't fall in love with him. Murray pulls it off, proving here, for the first time, of his capability as a dramatic actor. The comedy's easy, but his calm yet firm begging to Rita--"Please believe me. You have to believe me."--is what silences us into realization that, in the second act of his career, Bill Murray found his calling as a great actor.

Even though it won't be another year before I watch Groundhog Day again, I'll still find new things to love and cherish the old, whether it's Ned "Bing!" Ryerson, the diner scenes, or the snow angels. As silly as the holiday may be, Groundhog Day is worth celebrating for this movie alone.


Monday, February 9, 2009

Read Me Elsewhere!

No ranting plus Kate Winslet looking just fine:

http://www.boxofficeprophets.com/column/index.cfm?columnID=11342

Mini-Rant #2

OK, technically, this will be three mini-rants placed into one post. All involve my aversion to celebrity news and the media that will not let me forget about the pointlessness of it all. You have been warned.

So today I found out that Nadya Suleman has a publicist. I hope that most of you are asking this question: "Who is Nadya Suleman and why should I care if she has a publicist?" Bless your hearts if you thought this or even spoke it aloud. If, however, you are now like me and, at the very least, know who Nadya Suleman is, you can't ask that question. Ms. Suleman is the woman who is now mother of 14 children, including octuplets. Seriously...14 CHILDREN, including OCTUPLETS. Are you aware of it now? Can you now understand why NBC News sent Ann "Good morning, good morning" Curry to talk with Ms. Suleman, so she could share her story of delivering eight babies upon the six she's already got to the world? Can you now understand why ABC News paid a Web site for interview footage and pictures taken with Ms. Suleman's mother, who has been helping her daughter take care of the six kids she's already got?

Well, of course you can. For the most part, I'd been able to avoid this ridiculous bullshit story for a while; last week, I heard that Ms. Suleman had already been blessed with the six little ones before deciding to go back to a Beverly Hills fertility clinic to get knocked up again. I then heard she was also single and unemployed. In the words of Steve Martin in All of Me, "Ah, good plan!"

Before I get to the meat of my rant about Ms. Suleman and the media lapdogs tailing this idiot, let me just say this: I'm a relatively liberal person in my politics and my thinking. So even if Ms. Suleman was Mrs. Suleman and had a husband who was taking in six or seven figures, I'd say the same thing, which is that having 14 children is stupid. Having 14 children by accident, as Ms. Suleman did, is stupid. Having six children is one thing. But going back for more is stupid. Going back for more when you have no job is extra-special stupid. Having six embryos implanted in you every time you go to a Beverly Hills clinic (and how the fuck is she able to afford that clinic on no job?) is a dangerous risk, and choosing to repeat that risk after six kids is one of the most moronic, brainless things I've ever heard. I don't know this woman from Adam, but she's a hugely irresponsible person. Even though the octuplets have wrongly given her tons of media attention, it's a shame for those children, because they will not be raised by a smart woman.

Speaking of, the real reason why I'm writing this is the article I foolishly clicked on and read today. The headline on Yahoo was "Octuplets' grandmother disses daughter." I was curious enough to read it, and curiosity done killed this cat when it comes to Nadya fucking Suleman. It turns out that, according to the AP story, Ms. Suleman's mother is of pretty much the same mindset as me, albeit with less swearing and capital letters. She feels it's irresponsible for anyone, even her daughter, to have octuplets after already having six kids. Fair enough. From the article, it sounds like these comments were among those paid for by ABC News to show on their programs. What caught my eye was the sentence where the writer mentioned having asked Ms. Suleman to comment. Her publicist declined.

HER PUBLICIST? The woman with 14 kids has a publicist? The woman with 14 kids and no job and no one to support her has a publicist? What is going on here? Like the clinic, how can she afford this? Who's paying her? NBC has said that they didn't pay Suleman for the interview, despite rumors to the contrary, and I hope they're telling the truth. Though I won't go so far as Larry King did last week in asking if Suleman's the most hated woman in America (way to be relveant, Larry), it seems apparent with each day that Suleman may just be using a bit of this attention to help her own situation out and get a few minutes in the spotlight. So, she's potentially fame-starved. She's potentially manipulative. I say "potentially" because there's just as much chance that she's not. She's irresponsible no matter what, but we don't know for sure if she's actually craving this attention.

But shame on the media for giving it to her anyway. She gave birth to eight kids. I don't care. She gave birth to eight kids and has six more. I don't care. She gave birth to eight kids, has six more and has no job. And I still don't fucking care. But now I'm angry because the media is telling me that I should care by inundating me with this story. This woman's life should be her business. I shouldn't know what her mother thinks of this choice. I shouldn't know if she has a publicist. That is not my business. Why is the media so hell-bent on distracting me with this petty bullshit when there are two wars going on and a deepening recession/depression? When jobs are lost every day, why do I care? Why doesn't the media care about enlightening people?

I suppose it's because the media knows what some people like. Not everyone reads the newspaper or magazines in the old-fashioned way anymore, but still I get to stare at US Weekly in the grocery store. Still I get to see stories about Nadya Suleman and others. The US Weekly, for example, that caught my eye today had this month's magazine-cover darling Jessica Simpson on the cover, with a headline talking about being bullied because of her weight gain. Forgive me if I'm about to sound like Ricky Gervais during his climactic rant in the series finale of Extras, but the only reason Jessica Simpson is being bullied about her weight is because magazines like US Weekly are BULLYING JESSICA SIMPSON ABOUT HER WEIGHT.

So she does a show and looks like she gained a few pounds. I guess she's a human after all, huh? That's the end of the story. I don't care why she gained the weight. That's the end of the story. I don't care if she's getting a trainer. That's the end of the story. I don't care about any of the details. I care about the American media treating its readers like idiots. I care about the media talking about stories that matter. Yes, I know US Weekly just did a cover on Michelle Obama and the First Kids (why do I know that?), but Jessica Simpson gaining some weight isn't worth the paper they print it on. Why do we care? I was even slightly annoyed about the Christian Bale ruckus, but even he pointed out that it was worth making fun of, and let's be honest, it's pretty funny stuff.

But why should magazines write this drivel? Why does anyone actually care? I see the headlines, I rail against them, but Jessica Simpson is a drop in the bucket. People buy these magazines. People buy them to read them. Who buys them? Who cares about this? Are you out there? Are you human? I honestly don't know who would care about this.

And, finally, who gives a flying fuck if Michael Phelps, a 23-year old, acted like a 23-year old. I hate when people act exactly like people. Oh, right, I forgot, since he's an Olympian, he's not allowed to be human. He can swim really fast, so he should definitely not be taking any kind of drug, especially not marijuana. And if he does do that, for shame on him. How dare he ruin our ridiculous ideal of him? Apparently, he's not allowed to make mistakes.

What annoys me most about this story is that people are now proud that he's apologized for making a mistake. Though I've never taking drugs like that (or any recreational drugs), is it a mistake? Is it that horrible that he did a drug used for medical purpose? A drug that should be legalized? We're not talking ecstasy or cocaine. Moreover, it's not something he used to enhance his performance (A-Fraud finally earned his nickname!). If he apologizes, that's his choice (I know, it's really not his choice, but it should be). If he apologizes, we should move on, not applaud him for his courage. Instead, we should say the same statement said on NPR today: if only the Bernie Madoffs of the world apologized. Actually, we should ask why the media isn't pressing on the Bernie Madoffs instead of the Michael Phelps. Michael Phelps was stupid, if only for doing marijuana at a college party where plenty of cameras were probably right next to his face. Bernie Madoff is a horrible criminal. And we don't talk about him. We talk about Michael Phelps and Jessica Simpson and Nadya Suleman.

And we wonder why the rest of the world thinks we're idiots.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

The Foot Fist Way

Copyright 2008, Paramount Vantage

Danny McBride has become a staple in the Judd Apatow stable of late, popping up in Drillbit Taylor, Pineapple Express, and others. Hell, he's about to have his own HBO comedy, so McBride's star is as high now as it's ever been. In every way, that success is likely thanks to his starring role in the extremely low-budget black comedy The Foot Fist Way, where he plays Fred Simmons, a crude and mean Taekwondo instructor in North Carolina.

There's little actual plot here, as McBride uses his brusque and brutal talents to good use here; sometimes his Simmons is funny, sometimes he's awkward, sometimes he's just wrong. I can't say I laughed a lot at this movie, but I'd bet that co-writer/director Jody Hill doesn't want me to laugh nonstop. Imagine if Ron Burgundy had no friends, no real friends. He might be something close to Fred Simmons. Simmons is married to a buxom blonde who doesn't love him that much, or at all, as her indiscretion early in the film launches Simmons into a downward spiral. We have seen him working at Taekwondo with his students, young and old. This he loves, but much else in life is pointless, with the exception of the movies starring Chuck "The Truck" Wallace, a Steven Seagal-esque cheeseball star who's capitalized on his fame by making appearances at rinky-dink hotel conventions for far too much money. When Simmons and the Truck meet each other, they certainly clash, but not in the expected ways.

The Foot Fist Way is extremely hit-or-miss, but it's funny, mostly because McBride is charming, kind of. Depending on your build, he might kick your ass, but that's only if you do or say anything he's against...which is pretty much anything. Either way, this is funny enough to watch, but not funny enough to watch, as producers Will Ferrell and Adam McKay say they did, 20 times. But, hey, everyone's got their cult comedy; this one's not a bad choice.

Three stars out of four


The Duchess

Copyright 2008, Paramount Vantage

Boy, is The Duchess silly. Yes, I used the word "silly," not good or bad. How else to describe a film that gets a chance to set Keira Knightley's hair on fire? OK, technically, it's her wig, but I was too busy gaping as Ralph Fiennes follows up that disaster by saying, as matter-of-factly as possible, "Put the Duchess' hair out." Really? How did director Saul Dibb find time to place that in the film?

Why focus on such ridiculousness instead of the strange love quadrangle that makes up the majority of this film's plot? I suppose it looks more visually impressive (as this entire film does, to its credit) than a simple storyline, but that's a major fault of this movie. The story, focusing on the Duchess of Devonshire (Knightley, of course), the Duke of Devonshire (Fiennes, stiffer than ever), Charles Grey (Dominic Cooper), and Bess Foster (Hayley Atwell), and the love that binds them all, to a certain extent, is as bland as most costume dramas are these days. Knightley and Fiennes, in particular, are good, but not marvelous. The design of the film is indeed quite luscious and grand (especially on Blu-ray), but the ostentatiousness and sumptuousness comes at the expense of the film being any...you know, good.

What makes the story somewhat frustrating is the idea that Knightly's Duchess is being persecuted for her affair while everyone else is allowed to cavort as much as possible. But, this was the time when the Duchess' sole duty is to provide a male heir for her husband. The Duke, an awkward but lusting man, wants his wife to produce a son; nothing else is good enough, and even then, it's just another part of a life not worth living. At the end of the day, this film's positives are far outweighed by the negatives; the love affair with future Prime Minister Gray doesn't work not because of a lack of chemistry between Knightley and Cooper but because they're given so little time to work their feelings out. They say they love each other, but how can we be so sure of it? You can say something as much as you like, but it doesn't work without enough sufficient evidence, and there's little here.

Most costume dramas are given the stigma of being stuffy and boring, as the characters exude those qualities. It's not always true, but movies like The Duchess do not help eliminate that stereotype, only enforce it.

Two stars out of four


Coraline

Copyright 2009, Focus Features

For the most part, since its creation, 3-D filmmaking has been used simply to shock audiences. "Look at that! There's a huge bug trying to attack you!" "Hey, there's a knife being thrown at the screen!" "Well, how do you like that? Brendan Fraser's spitting out his backwash at us!" In the last few years, though, it's been more apparent that 3-D can and should be used for immersion. The recent re-release of Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas in 3-D proved that a film didn't need to have showoff effects to impress audiences. This year, there will be far more 3-D viewing options than in most years at the theaters. Most have been made specifically to be seen with 3-D glasses, such as next month's Monsters Vs. Aliens, spearheaded by Dreamworks mogul Jeffrey Katzenberg, a fan of the technology. However, the first shot of 2009 comes from author Neil Gaiman and director Henry Selick (also the helmer of Nightmare Before Christmas) with Coraline.

Based on the Gaiman novel, Coraline is set in Portland, Oregon, as the title character, a girl with adventurous tendencies voiced by Dakota Fanning, adjusts to living in a 150-year old mansion now split into apartments owned by some real oddballs. Coraline's loneliness is compounded by the fact that her parents (Teri Hatcher and Daily Show resident expert John Hodgman) are too focused on their writing to pay any attention to her. All Coraline has for company is her imagination, a stray cat, and the landlord's grandson, who annoys her constantly. Her imagination, however, is what gets her into serious trouble.

One day, Coraline finds a mysterious and tiny door that, once night falls, opens up into a portal leading to her "other" parents. In fact, the portal leads to a mirror image of the life she lives and her new house, except everything seems more colorful, more exciting, and more fun. The only problem? Everyone except for Coraline has buttons for eyes. What's worse, Coraline's other mother would very much like for Coraline to have buttons as eyes...or else. Coraline spends the rest of the film discovering exactly who her other mother is and how dangerous the mirror image of her life could be for her and for everyone around her.

No matter what else, Selick has created a beautiful world in Coraline. Gaiman's unique vision certainly helps this out, but Selick's skewed look on something as simple as a cat (seen here as a raggedy, thin, almost bug-like creature) excites the eye. The 3-D here is amazing; rarely do we ever get shocked because of the technology, though one of the few times it happens (a needle jumps out at the audience) occurs during the opening credits. Just as he proved in Nightmare, James and the Giant Peach, and sections of The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Henry Selick is a visionary in animation, even if he's using one of the most primitive types available.

What's more amazing here is that, either because of the 3-D or just because of more modern means, the stop-motion animation is rarely noticeable. In Nightmare, it was much more clear that a character like Jack Skellington was herky-jerky, to a point. Here, though, everything is fluid, especially during the sequences set in the other apartments in the mansion, focusing on a pair of elder actresses (voiced by Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders) and a tall and muscular circus ringmaster (voiced by Ian McShane). What Henry Selick proves here is that the scope of 21st-century animation doesn't have to be simply 2-D animation and computer animation: stop-motion has a place.

The voice work is somewhat spotty, however, as the actors' vocal cadences are somewhat altered for the quirky tone and script. It took me a bit of getting used to John Hodgman talking slowly or to character actor Keith David (as the stray cat) not sounding his usual baritone all the time. Fanning and Hatcher, though, in the two biggest roles, are quite good. Hatcher in particular has the most difficult work to do: as Coraline's real mother, she's got to sound weary and tough, but not too evil; as Coraline's other mother, she's got to sound ultra-lovable and cutesy one moment and viciously cruel the next. She does, though, pull it off quite well. Fanning, sounding more grown-up, is appropriately prickly and defiant as the title character.

Coraline manages to be impressive on many levels, even when there's no color on screen (as when Coraline finds out what happens if she strays too far from the other mansion). It may not be as timeless as The Nightmare Before Christmas, but as a first attempt at making a 3-D film that doesn't seem gimmicky, it's a damn good start.

Three and a half stars out of four


Blue Velvet

Copyright 1986, De Laurentiis Entertainment Group

What an odd person David Lynch is. I'd say "must be" in place of "is," but when the guy has his own website and announces the daily weather in his slightly off-kilter voice, it's not really up to me to guess, but for us to know. Even before 1986's Blue Velvet, Lynch had shown a predilection for the weird with movies like Eraserhead, The Elephant Man, and Dune. Despite those films' strenghts (and the latter film isn't chock full of those), it was Blue Velvet that got Lynch into the mainstream.

This extremist pitch-black satire works on a lot of levels and fails on just as many. That Lynch had the idea for the film, that the idea was written, that the script was made, that the film was distributed: all of this goes to Lynch's credit. Could a film such as this be made today? Wouldn't there be an outcry over Isabella Rossellini's painful nude scene? What of the famous sequence where Kyle MacLachlan watches Rossellini get vilified by Dennis Hopper, the villain of the film? So, again, that this movie was made is worth applauding. No, it may not be your cup of tea, but let's be honest: this kind of audacity is rarely seen in movies anymore, and it's good to be reminded of the dark possibilities of film every once in a while.

That said, the film is wildly overwrought and not without its flaws. The first 45 minutes of the film, the pre-Hopper scenes, move slowly, almost too much so. Yes, MacLachlan's Jeffrey Beaumont (a classic 1950s-style name, no?) finds a severed human ear and sneaks his way into Rossellini's apartment, but once Hopper, as Frank Booth, comes onscreen, peeked at through the slats of a living room closet, the movie kicks into high gear. Up to this point, the audience can't be too sure of what's going on, what's to come. Even when Hopper first arrives, can we predict that, in 30 minutes' time, we'll see Dean Stockwell in kabuki garb lip-synching to Roy Orbison? As ridiculous as that sounds, that scene in particular is a highpoint the film doesn't reach ever again.

Maybe it's Lynch choosing to be linear that's a failing of the story. It's obvious that he revels in the vulgarity that Booth represents, he's intrigued in having a clean-cut American boy like Beaumont potentially be tempted, seducted into perversity. And yet we still have to find out who the owner of that severed ear is, and Booth must be captured for his hideous wrongdoings. In his later works, specifically Mulholland Drive, Lynch isn't interested in a straight-line plot. Yes, if you take the time to think it through, Mulholland Drive makes some kind of sense, but the experience of that film is far more powerful than the experience of this film, aside from a few shocking scenes and Hopper's galvanizing performance, one that probably saved his career from obscurity. For that, watching Blue Velvet is worth it, but there's not much else aside from ambition and the promise of something darker and more layered from an auteur like David Lynch.

Two and a half stars out of four


Friday, February 6, 2009

A Look Back at Pixar: Toy Story (1995)

Copyright 1995, Walt Disney Pictures

"This isn't flying. It's falling...with style."-Buzz Lightyear (voice of Tim Allen)

On June 23rd, 1995, I paid witness to the continuation of the second Golden Age of American animation dominance. That was the opening day of 1995's tepid Disney entry Pocahontas. The romance about a Native American and one of the first English settlers is one we'll get to in months to come (and to tie in to recent news: Christian Bale co-starred!), but not what I'm talking about. No, on that day, at the Holiday 6 Theater in Buffalo, New York, I glimpsed the first look at a computer animated film. Having seen previous Disney films such as Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, I had seen some bits and pieces here and there, but nothing so thrilling or captivating as the quick scene portrayed in the teaser trailer for Toy Story, one depicting two soon-to-be classic characters, Woody and Buzz Lightyear, squaring off in their first meeting on their owner Andy's cowboy-festooned bedsheets. And so Disney dominance continued.

What's fascinating in watching Toy Story now, comparing its script, its direction and, most importantly, its animation style to Dreamworks' Kung Fu Panda or Pixar's most recent film, WALL-E, is how far Pixar has come and how far they'd come to begin with. Yes, there are certainly flaws. The design of the human characters in Toy Story is realistic, too much so. It's obvious that director John Lasseter and his crew wanted to make the real people as believable-looking as possible, since the toys wouldn't seem anatomically correct (and why should they?). However, by going down this path, they created characters like Molly, Andy's baby sister, who looks very much like a squishy-faced toddler; especially on an HDTV, this is not a pretty sight. Of course, it's clear that Lasseter and company didn't want the focus to be on the human characters; frankly, the villainous Sid gets more face time than Andy and, thus, looks more like an animated human than anyone else.

Still, the animation from over a decade ago looks crisp and clear, especially in outdoor scenes like the climax, which begins in Sid's backyard and ends high in the sky, as the two heroes soar up above suburbia, enjoying one second of strangely undeserved and unwelcome freedom. What's more, the Blu-ray player I own heightens the details in each shot, carefully and lovingly composed. How many hours did it take for the subservient toys in the Claw game to be given all-encompassing ridges? How long did it take to create the just-right reflections in the gleaming metal at Pizza Planet and in Sid's bedroom? Consider this and you will consider exactly how much craft and how many man-hours must go into the creation of a single minute of footage of any computer-animated film, Pixar or otherwise.

And yet, despite all of this, it's still shocking to know that there was a time when Toy Story was going to be scrapped by its distributor, Walt Disney Pictures. To go quickly into the behind-the-scenes story, early versions of the film had Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks, reliable yet a touch ornery) as far less likable, far more desperate in his attempt to stay in power as the top toy in Andy's bedroom. These traits are still present in Woody--it is he who knocks Buzz out of the bedroom and, though it wasn't exactly how he planned it, the local sheriff was hoping to put Buzz down a peg or two--but he's the character who anchors us in the story. Though he and Buzz both get chances to have story arcs, it's Woody who we see first and identify with until the last shot of two friends nervously chuckling. Woody's imperfection as the main character, though, is part of what makes this film last so well, still work after so long.

Pixar Animation Studios wasn't exactly the same in 1995. I was merely 11 when this first film of theirs came out and have found that, as I age, so does the studio. So it matures. How to explain the line from two (and soon to be three) stories about toys with lives of their own to a neurotic clownfish looking for his son in the ocean to a rat who wants to cook in Paris? The maturation of the story begins here and has stayed true. Though the screenplay here, by Andrew Stanton, Joel Cohen & Alec Sokolow, and Joss Whedon (!), has its share of snappy lines, we're also given such moving scenes as when Woody bares his soul to Buzz, explaining that there is such a thing as being too good, and he's been the victim of that. And Buzz's arc, from cocky believer to humbled hero, is all the more impressive because of how quickly it happens. Toy Story is only 81 minutes long, and when you take away the opening sequence and final credits, that gives the audience only about an hour or so to become fully acquainted with Buzz Lightyear. Credit should go to Tim Allen here for pulling off both the arrogance and the modesty the character exudes. Even though his post-reaction moment of insanity with Woody, pretending to be a proper English lady at a tea party held by Sid's sister, is played for laughs, his initial act of shock, disappointment, and defiance is more powerful than you might expect, coming from a movie that begins with sheep being hoarded by an evil one-eyed potato.

Such, though, is the Pixar way. These are the people who are able to pull off ridiculous plots with aplomb, with humor, with emotion. And through all of this, they're able to thrill also. The climax, where crises upon crises upon crises are piled onto Buzz and Woody's shoulders, still has the power to make you gasp, when Scud the dog chases after Woody and the moving truck, when Buzz and Woody hang onto Slinky Dog for dear life as they sail down neighborhood roads to the tune of "Hakuna Matata," and, most of all, when Buzz and Woody soar up in the sky and the cowboy finally lets go for a second, marveling at what his friend has done.

Friendship, of course, is a universal principle of mankind. To see it so baldly represented as the main theme of this film is, still, a little surprising. Friendship is a common theme throughout most Pixar works, from the friendship of Buzz and Woody, to the duo of Marlin and Dory, or Mike and Sully, or even Remy and Linguine. To compare with previous Disney films, friendship is often not considered as important as relationships of love, from Snow White all the way to Simba and Nala. Pixar, though, chooses to focus on friendship as the driving force of life. It's friendship that saves Woody, friendship that saves Buzz, friendship that keeps them going. Hell, it's even the idea behind the Oscar-nominated song by Randy Newman (who does a fine job of the music here, quirks and all). That it took a computer-animated toy cowboy and spaceman to bring the idea of friendship up close in the mid-1990s is saying something. Pixar, I imagine, wouldn't have it any other way.

Next week, a look at the jumps made by this studio when they made a story of miniature proportions...A Bug's Life.


Sad News

James Whitmore, the great charactor actor, has passed on at 87. For many my age, he'll always be Brooks Hadlen, the prison librarian at Shawshank, looking after his crow, Jake.

Easy-peasy Japaneasy. RIP Brooks.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Miscellaneous Musings

So I've decided it's not just going to be an analysis of Pixar movies; let's just do every feature-length Disney animated film. No direct-to-DVD/video sequels (even the mildly entertaining third entry in the Aladdin series), because, let's be honest, they're around so Disney can make boatloads of money off kids who don't yet know well enough to stick with the originals. In fact, I'm just going to start doing series of films. Pixar is first. Disney is next. That much should take me through the year, what with there being almost 40 of the latter. After that, the sky's the limit. Hopefully, by that time, requests will be made. If not, there are enough series of films to look at.

Elsewhere, I feel conflicted. I like Christian Bale as an actor; in fact, he's one of the select few whose name likely means me buying a ticket. An example is next May's Terminator: Salvation, a movie that I would avoid at all costs because of its director, McG (also known as get a real fucking name, not a nickname, you supposed adult). However, with Bale and Bryce Dallas Howard, among others, being in the main cast, and the Terminator series itself, I'm going to see it. So, I feel conflicted because I like Bale as an actor, but I can't help myself from listening to that rant of his. And the techno remix. And the Stephen Colbert-Steve Martin version. And the James Lipton reenactment. And it came from TMZ. How much of my soul am I losing by perversely enjoying it? Not enough to buy a shirt that says "You and me are fucking done professionally," or whatever, but...enough, I'd bet.

Last night's episode of Lost was quite good, but it would have been far better if I cared enough about the Jack-Kate-Sawyer love triangle. Unlike some folks who watch the show, including the missus, I don't care about whether Kate ends up with Jack or Sawyer, or so on and so on. For what it's worth, though, Josh Holloway is up to the task for the angsty stuff. That plus the amount of non-lovey-dovey stuff meant last night was a win. But when will Daniel start getting nosebleeds? He's gonna have to start doing that soon.

Finally, the next current movie review is going to be for the 3-D version of Coraline, a movie I first saw previews for over a year ago. Anything with Henry Selick involved makes me very excited, for I am one of the ten people who actually enjoyed and, yes, own Monkeybone. I still say the last 30 minutes of that movie is ridiculously funny, far funnier than most comedies have in their entirety.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Tone-Deaf...Again

I feel like this is going to end up being a weekly feature or, at the very least, something I don't just forget until six months have passed by us. Once again, I'm going to look at some politicking and some frivolity. Politicking, unlike last time, first.

As you should know, President Obama ordered a limit on the pay of executives of banks and other businesses that are now partly in the ownership of our fair government today, capping that pay at only a cool half-million dollars a year. And, already, I have heard about complaints from those execs who are now no longer going to be millionaires, based on their per-year. First of all, I say should as in "You should know," because really...you should. I've been harped on for not reading newspapers, but, as I'll get into further down here, newspapers are not the be-all and end-all. The people who run newspapers should be doing us a good service, but sometimes get a little drunk on their presumed powers. Let's be honest: even though the Internet can be a haven for unadulterated bullshit, there are also plenty of outlets of good, honest information. This story has been all over newspapers and the Web today, and if you don't know, shame on you.

Onto the real tone-deafness. Executives...complaining about only getting 500 grand a year. I'd thank every deity in existence if that was my situation, not complain. Moreover, shouldn't we, the taxpayers, the people putting our money into these people's pockets to begin with (thanks a lot, bailout bill!), be judging these morons on their performance? I'd want these people fired or, at the very least, given a massive pay cut for their major-league fuckups. And where's the money going? To corporate jets. Why the fuck should these assholes be flying anywhere right now? You know what, guys? Take the fucking train. Take a bus. Carpool, but don't you go anywhere fucking near a corporate jet.

What pains me most is the lack of self-awareness. I've been, to this point, lucky enough to skirt under the banking mess, being a member of a bank that hasn't completely folded. I'm well aware of the fact that, come this time next year, I might not be so lucky. Do these people realize how lost their shareholders are? Are they aware that, as they live high on the hog, in their jets, going to parties, all that jazz, people are struggling to make a living because of their mistakes? No, of course not. Why would they? Why bother them with the problems of the people who are paying them? Bullshit.

Also bullshit? The media. This one comes up apropo of nothing, really, except for my choice of listening to the very entertaining /Film podcast (that's slash Film) during my work day. One of the older episodes, from late May, discussed how Variety and the Hollywood Reporter, the two main trade magazines in Hollywood, refused then (and still do) to give any credit for stories they "break" to the Web sites and blogs that do the heavy lifting for them. If Latino Review, for example, breaks a story about Ellen Page being in a roller derby comedy (and that wasn't a joke, though it's about as funny as that movie's likely to get), it doesn't matter to Variety. They'll run the story as if it's their own. No credit to Latino Review, no credit where it's due. Why? Because, as the astute podcasters pointed out, the folks over at those two magazines don't understand blogs, for the most part, and are all vehemently angry and scared at them.

Angry because it used to be that only a select few people wrote professionally, wrote seriously, and now everyone's doing it and trying to be the best. Scared because some of those people, some of the supposed losers, are actually pretty damn good and are beating the print folk at their own game. Even more than in May, the story on /Film had resonance, with newspapers and magazines going the way of the dodo much faster than they were 9 months ago. And yet the newspapers still fight against the Internet. The thought that some people at newspapers are still asking why they're being left behind in the 21st century is as dumb as it gets. Why does Variety have to focus on advertising from outside sources, why do they need more Oscar ads than ever? Because the Internet is leaving them behind.

As pointed out many other places, too many to mention, it's simple. Newspapers cost money to make. Newspapers cost nothing to read. I can go to most newspaper Web sites and read all the day's content for free. Why buy an actual paper in lieu of the free way out, especially in this economy? What's the point of shelling out that dough where I could use it better somewhere else? And yet, people don't yet understand. The print people are scared. Some can adjust to the Internet revolution, but most can't. Most won't. I think they should just accept they're doomed to either be an Internet zombie or be as stubborn and gruff as Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

All Quiet on the Western Front

Today was just one of those days, a day that feels post-less, so let's just promise to have something up tomorrow and a lengthy look back at Toy Story coming up on the weekend. In the meantime, why waste this time reading me? Why not waste an hour trying to deal with blurry 3-D glasses to watch TV? Seriously, can NBC do any actual favors to its own shows?

P.S. I'm glad I watch Lost as opposed to, say, Heroes, a show that NBC pimps out for truly awful ads, whether advertising football or lip-syncing. Yeesh.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Oh, Just One More Thing

Actually, two. First of all, talking babies are NOT FUNNY. They are creepy. It is massively disturbing to see babies talking like adults. Babies do not talk like adults. Even if they did, they wouldn't talk about a fucking financial trading service. Even Bruce Willis stuck to baby-minded stuff in that idiot movie 20 years ago. Talking babies? Not funny. Creepy, yes. Disturbing, yes. Funny? No.

Second...Steve Martin? You listening? It's HAMBURGER. Not Armada, not Amburgeredere, not anything else. Hamburger. Oh, and it's also not funny to anyone who's ever seen this franchise when it was funny. Idiot.

Groundhog Day!

For absolutely no reason whatsoever, I figured I'd fill this post with a few miscellaneous musings of the day...

...Season tickets may have sold out, but exactly how many people still care about the Arizona Cardinals, the team with the most fair-weather fans?

...I want to love 3-D technology, I do. I'll go see Coraline, I'll see Up, and because of the hip TV cast, I'll even see Monsters Vs. Aliens. And if the folks in Hollywood want people to think of 3-D as something other than cheesy and B-movie, they need to update the technology of the glasses. I tried to find the 3-D glasses being distributed to watch the 3-D ads and tonight's new episode of Chuck (and I did find them, thankfully), but for a long time, there were none in my area. Then, when I found them the day before the Super Bowl, they were in a tiny display that could be easily passed by and was barely full. Even more, I had to take a sheet of paper holding four sets of glasses. Yes, these are the cheap-o paper glasses. If the movie technology has advanced why can't the normal glasses be better than paper?

...The Super Bowl ads, for the most part, sucked. I know everyone loved the Alec Baldwin Hulu.com ad, but....aliens? Eating my brains? If I didn't enjoy watching shows for free, I'd stop going to the site, but...well, my brain IS feeling mushy.

...Now I remember why I'm not psyched for Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen (and by the way, seriously? What kind of self-serious bullshit subtitle is that? It's about robots that turn into cars, not a fucking war movie). I enjoy watching movies where I can discern what's happening on the screen instead of a chaotic shot-after-shot sequence of big car-robots doing God knows what.

...So Christian Bale was shouting at the DP of the new Terminator movie. No, it's not my business, but thanks to those scumbags at TMZ, I know what he sounds like angry. I'm sure Bale could beat me up, but it'd be worth it....he's funny when he's angry! I mean, I still think he's a great Batman but...five minutes of shouting? Maybe he just realized he's starring in an unnecessary Terminator sequel directed by McG. I'd be angry, too.

...The post-Super Bowl episode of The Office was, overall, very funny, but I'm certain that, to date, the pre-title sequence of the show was the funniest thing the show's ever done. "The fire is shooting at us!"

...Here's the problem with our society: less than 12 hours after the Super Bowl ends, the local news asks, "Is this the best Super Bowl ever?" Well, of course, you've had enough time to figure things out, right? I'm not saying the game wasn't great (though part of that is because no one expected the Cards to be so competitive), but best ever? No Ice Bowl? No Scott f'in Norwood missing the field goal? No Eli Manning? Let's be honest.

...I love the movie, but what is the point of Groundhog Day? The actual holiday, I mean...what's the point? Winter goes until March 21. That's it. The groundhog (and let's be frank, there's been plenty more than one) doesn't predict the winter. And it's a top news story every year. We live in a stupid country; this is a minor offense, but it's the top of the iceberg.

...Why couldn't Pixar have done a new ad for Up? Like I said, I can't wait to see it (it is my current number-one of the year in terms of anticipation), but the ad last night wasn't anything new. Still, I can't wait for it.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Step Brothers

Copyright 2008, Sony Pictures

So, you're 40 years old, and you've been making money by acting like a child for at least a decade, in TV first and film later. Do you grow up and make adult movies, do you go the route of Bill Murray or Jim Carrey, or do you continue making an ass of yourself? Well, though I hope that Will Ferrell will soon choose less goofy roles (or maybe fewer of them), I can't argue that his latest film, Step Brothers, did make me laugh a lot.

The gold standard for Will Ferrell and his co-writer/director Adam McKay is 2004's Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, which is one of the best comedies of the decade, tied, for me, with The 40-Year Old Virgin. This new movie, co-starring John C. Reilly (who appears to have gone the opposite route of comedians, choosing to be serious first instead of second), is not nearly as funny as Anchorman, but is far better than 2006's Talladega Nights, a film that was a big disappointment for me, as I had expected greatness.

The big plus here is that, unlike Ricky Bobby and pals, the story in this movie is not a carbon copy of Anchorman. Also, this is a film with far fewer big stars and far fewer Judd Apatow regulars (Seth Rogen makes a cameo here, but that's about it). Step Brothers, about two man-childs who start out as enemies and wind up as best friends when their divorced parents marry, manages to be funny while also dealing with unsuccessful marriages and the idiots in those unions (both, in this case, are the men). Oh, this is no analysis of marriage, but when you watch two folks in their golden years (Richard Jenkins and Mary Steenburgen) enter a marriage based solely on the similarities of their lives and sex appeal, and see also two thirtysomethings in a hollow and loveless marriage filled with harmonic singing, Dane Cook on pay-per-view, and helicopters, it's hard to ignore what McKay and Ferrell attempt to do with the otherwise ridiculous and silly comedy they've got here.

Unlike Anchorman, Step Brothers does best when played in front of an audience. It's still funny on a TV screen, but not nearly as funny. The lines are not as memorable, but the film as Ferrell and Reilly doing what they do best together: riffing. Some works, some doesn't, but overall, the hits are more than the misses. Even more, this was the funniest comedy of the summer, against the slightly more disappointing Pineapple Express and Tropic Thunder (Robert Downey, Jr. aside, the latter film was consistently chuckle-worthy, not laugh-out-loud). And, hey, you never know; Will Ferrell might choose to grow up soon...well, I'm not holding my breath, but it could happen.

Three stars out of four