Now that the Cheese Fry’s knee-jerk approval (“I actually kind of liked it”) has slowly given way to incredulous disappointment (“Shouldn’t it have been better?”) and finally assured irritation (“They spent $200 million on that?”), forthwith are twenty pseudo-objective musings on Superman Returns, the box office blockbuster that wasn’t.
1. Kate Bosworth is no Margot Kidder. People (i.e. the media) sure do seem to love Bosworth, but why exactly? She’s one of those actors that feel pushed onto us by glossy Hollywood magazines – call it the McConaughey Rule – whether we like it/her or not. Her brittle, prissy Lois Lane walks a line between boring and annoying. What’s Superman see in her exactly? Kidder may not be as traditionally pretty as Bosworth, but at least Kidder projected a rough-and-tumble toyboy sexiness.
2. The best thing about the film is undoubtedly the opening titles that use the same zooming 3-D text effect as the first films. This sets up a giddy, retro expectation… that the film never meets.
3. Which brings us to a rather strange problem. On one hand, director Bryan Singer seems intent on linking Superman Returns to the first two Superman films with Christopher Reeve. He uses the same music. He puts a picture of actor Glenn Ford, who played Clark Kent’s father in the 1978 film, on a Smallville mantel. He uses the same production design for the Fortress of Solitude. Marlon Brando even shows up from the dead to play Jor-El. But at the same time, this movie is undeniably creating a different mythology and exists in a universe all its own. Singer can’t quite find a logical way to connect his film with the Reeve films on a fairly important narrative detail: Lois Lane’s Superbaby. All good geek fans know Superman and Lois did the Krypton Clinch in Superman II after he gave up all his powers in that weird plexiglass box. But then he wiped out Lois’ memory. So she’d have no recollection of her time with Superman. But in Superman Returns, Lois’ irritation (and Bosworth-esque petulance) with Superman’s 5-year departure carries with it a clear suggestion that they Had Something Going when he left. If this had been just a re-imagining of the story, then we’d assume they did before the movie started. But there’s a clear suggestion (if not in the film text, then in numerous interviews with Singer) that Superman began his 5-year absence shortly after Superman II ended. It’s not connecting.
4. There are homages and then there are rip-offs. Look closely. This movie shares similar story beats with the 1978 film. Luthor hatches a plot to kill millions (“billions” in 2006 in what seems to be the result of a sort of super-villain-threat inflation) so he can have real estate to sell. Superman takes Lois on a nighttime flight. Luthor has a female sidekick – their relationship seems too platonic to be romantic – that expresses sympathy for Superman and turns on Luthor as a result. It could be that the filmmakers are banking on the fact that the core audience of teenagers and 20-somethings never saw the 1978 film, in which case the Routh-Bosworth flight carries zing it cannot for those who saw Reeve-Kidder do it almost 20 years ago.
5. By the way, who the hell’d want to live on that craggy continent of onyx that Luthor wants to create anyway? What kind of evil genius plan is this? It’s cool that Luthor uses the green Fortress of Solitude crystal for evil and creates a kind of anti-Krypton of dull blacks instead of shiny whites, but a big plot turn like this needs to be more than just cool, doesn’t it?
6. From what’s on display in Superman Returns, it’s hard to imagine actor Brandon Routh having a long career beyond this franchise. He seemed like a nice enough guy on “The Tonight Show” but for the most part, he works as well as he does in the film mainly because he’s doing such a great Christopher Reeve impression. Especially in the Clark Kent scenes.
7. Was the character of Jimmy Olsen always such an annoying nerd?
8. Bryan Singer predictably hits hard the themes of alienation that served him so well in the first two X-Men films. And it works pretty well here, too. Superman is certainly not like us. He’s all alone, the last of his kind. No one understands him. But part of his angst is completely self-created. He’s the one who left for five years, remember. Did he think nothing would change? Again, if Lois Lane were at all likable and interesting, if we could get a handle on why Superman loves her so much, this part of the movie would probably resonate much more strongly.
9. It’s pretty cool that Lois Lane’s new boyfriend is a pilot. Nice detail. This is a girl likes guys who fly.
10. You’d think Kevin Spacey would have been better as Luthor. You also wonder why Batman has so many cool villains and Superman just has this one. Which is another reason why Superman II was so good – the villains posed a formidable threat to Superman because they shared his powers.
11. By the way, Superman II (“Kneel before Zod.”) doesn’t hold up so well. There’s a lot of cheese to be had. Not to mention the clumsy special effects. And as powerful a moment as it is when Superman gives up his powers for Lois Lane, it’s never clear just why has to do so.
12. The film delivers a powerful emotional punch when Superman’s weakened by kryptonite and Luthor’s thugs beat him to a pulp. Reminds you that drama comes from conflict – and it’s tough to manufacture conflict when your hero’s practically omnipotent.
13. The film has Luthor get out of jail on a technicality. Wouldn’t someone as smart as him come up with a more, like, interesting escape plan? Further points are deducted from the suggestion that Superman is somehow partly to blame for this – because he was gone for five years, he missed some kind of hearing that was apparently essential to keep Luthor in custody. Yeah, right. We’re not buying it.
14. It’s a goose-bump moment when Superman first appears on screen to save the only-in-the-movies shuttle/747 disaster. A wonderful popcorn moment.
15. A nice touch to show Superman basking in the yellow sun – recharging his Kal-El batteries – before exerting himself to lift out of the ocean Luthor’s craggy continent. As crazy as it is to see Superman lift a mountain (and yes, it's crazy), at least filmmakers tried to mitigate it by showing Superman soaking up the yellow sun rays.
16. There is something appealingly poignant seeing humans take Superman to the emergency room. What can they really do for him? But how can they not at least try? A nice moment.
17. Biggest plot hole: Luthor’s platonic sidekick Kitty diverts Superman’s attention from Luthor’s kryptonite theft by careening down a street in an out-on-control car. Superman predictably comes to her aid, which helps the plot… but doesn’t that seem like a pretty flimsy plan on Luthor’s part? Of all the crime in Metropolis, they’re banking on Superman attending to a moving violation. And he does. Not acceptable, people.
18. All in all, it’s really quite remarkable how brilliantly Sam Raimi and his crew have worked the first two Spiderman films.
19. A lot of right-wing pundits were chattering about the way the film dropped the last item in the familiar “truth, justice, and the American Way” line, choosing instead to have Perry White say “Truth, justice, and all that stuff.” Was it a liberal Hollywood decision motivated by international box office, to avoid draping Superman in the American flag at a time when the world sneers at the U.S.? Or was it an innocent story decision to make Perry White seem cynical and play with the line? Or should we all just get a life and stop worrying about stuff like this?
20. The Messiah metaphor isn’t very subtle here. We get Superman striking at least one crucifix pose. He hovers over the planet like some kind of god, listening to the cries and whimpers of what seems to be the entire population. There’s much debate about whether humanity needs a “savior.” And then there’s the awkward moment when the hospital staff checks on the sick Superman and finds him gone, the bed sheet tangled like a certain Someone’s tomb shroud. On one hand, these allusions add some interested depth to the story. On the other hand, it’s like, okay, we get it.
7.28.2006
"Apply Directly to the Forehead"
The Los Angeles Times' Dan Neil recently took a look at one of the more surreal TV ads running now: HeadOn. If you've seen it, you know what we're talking about.
Theoretically speaking, there is no bottom to the pop culture barrel, particularly as regards TV advertising. There will always be an ad that will sink lower and annoy more, always another commercial that will manage to limbo under our lowest expectations.
Wait . . . no . . . there is a bottom of the barrel! And welcome to it. I give you the ad for HeadOn, which has to be the worst, most irritating TV commercial ever made, that ever could be made. Compared to HeadOn, the awful Realcore diet pill ad ("Get rid of stubborn belly fat!") is a soaring aria to the nobility of Man.
The ad is simplicity itself, if simplicity reminds you of North Korean propaganda. A woman rubs her forehead with what appears to be a roll-on deodorant while a female voice shouts: "HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD! HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD! HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD! HeadOn is available without a prescription at retailers nationwide!" This is the 15-second spot. Because of the economics of basic cable advertising, the ad will often run back to back, so you get 30 seconds of "HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD!" etc.
This is the sort of thing that sends people into bell towers with rifles.
When I first saw this commercial, I thought I must be missing something. What, exactly, does the product do? It appears to be a balm of some kind, but for what ailment? How many people suffer from forehead pain? Perhaps it was for headaches. And then I began to spy a certain kind of genius about the ad. A headache remedy ad that causes migraines. Brilliant!
Indeed, I began to wonder if it wasn't maximally schlocky on purpose, the TV ad equivalent of outsider art. It has, after all, the surreal vertigo of some crazy piece of installation video or a Japanese blast ad, the kind accused of producing seizures. I also suspected the ad was supposed to be funny. For instance, there is this big yellow animated arrow pointing vigorously at the woman's forehead, next to the words "apply directly to the forehead." Wait, I'm confused. Where do I apply it?
This had to be some sort of spoof, some piece of carefully calibrated irony like the Old Navy or the Enzyte (natural male enhancement) campaigns. Perhaps it was a viral anti-ad that escaped the confines of the web somehow to reach legitimate TV. At least I wasn't the only one baffled. A quick google of "Apply directly to the forehead" returned hundreds of pages, with many bloggers howling for medieval tortures to be applied to the person responsible.
He was easy enough to find. HeadOn is made by a company called Miralus Healthcare, which has offices in Canada and Florida (the actual product is manufactured in Chicago). With a couple of calls I managed to contact Dan Charron, vice president of sales and marketing. I asked if he was aware of the buzz.
"We first knew something was up when we found all the web pages devoted to the commercials," he said. Did he also notice people saying it was the most awesomely awful commercial they'd ever seen? That surprised him. "Nobody in the focus groups said the ads were annoying," he said, a statement that made me feel very sorry for focus groups.
But, come on, this is some kind of postmodern gag, right, a parody of the hyper-hard sell? Alas, no. "We didn't intend it to be a joke," Charron said. "The idea is that all our competitors are pills. Our product you apply directly to the forehead. That's what makes it different. We wanted for people to remember it. It's the only product that you apply directly to the forehead." He kept saying that. This is the ad you get when Rain Man is your VP of marketing.
What about the peculiar anti-style of the commercial? The ad—which cost "almost nothing," said Charron—is actually an edited version of an earlier advertisement, recycling the same footage of the head-rubbing woman. At the request of the Better Business Bureau, HeadOn removed claims that the product provides relief from headaches, migraines and headache pain with sleeplessness.
Thus expunged of any claim of efficacy or benefit, what remains is, I think, unique in advertising: a commercial that says nothing about the product except how to use it. And this is where it gets weird. Because of its strange and evocative emptiness, the "apply directly" sound bite is catching on. There's now a web site that has laid it down behind a hip-hop dance mix. Another has converted it into a ring tone. How soon before we see T-shirts emblazoned with the phrase, above a picture of a frosty mug of beer? It's a tribute to pop's alchemical power that the most uncool commercial in the history of TV has somehow been rendered, well, cool.
Meanwhile, Charron and his company are working on the next round of HeadOn commercials. If you want me, I'll be in the bell tower.
Theoretically speaking, there is no bottom to the pop culture barrel, particularly as regards TV advertising. There will always be an ad that will sink lower and annoy more, always another commercial that will manage to limbo under our lowest expectations.
Wait . . . no . . . there is a bottom of the barrel! And welcome to it. I give you the ad for HeadOn, which has to be the worst, most irritating TV commercial ever made, that ever could be made. Compared to HeadOn, the awful Realcore diet pill ad ("Get rid of stubborn belly fat!") is a soaring aria to the nobility of Man.
The ad is simplicity itself, if simplicity reminds you of North Korean propaganda. A woman rubs her forehead with what appears to be a roll-on deodorant while a female voice shouts: "HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD! HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD! HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD! HeadOn is available without a prescription at retailers nationwide!" This is the 15-second spot. Because of the economics of basic cable advertising, the ad will often run back to back, so you get 30 seconds of "HeadOn, apply DIRECTLY to the FOREHEAD!" etc.
This is the sort of thing that sends people into bell towers with rifles.
When I first saw this commercial, I thought I must be missing something. What, exactly, does the product do? It appears to be a balm of some kind, but for what ailment? How many people suffer from forehead pain? Perhaps it was for headaches. And then I began to spy a certain kind of genius about the ad. A headache remedy ad that causes migraines. Brilliant!
Indeed, I began to wonder if it wasn't maximally schlocky on purpose, the TV ad equivalent of outsider art. It has, after all, the surreal vertigo of some crazy piece of installation video or a Japanese blast ad, the kind accused of producing seizures. I also suspected the ad was supposed to be funny. For instance, there is this big yellow animated arrow pointing vigorously at the woman's forehead, next to the words "apply directly to the forehead." Wait, I'm confused. Where do I apply it?
This had to be some sort of spoof, some piece of carefully calibrated irony like the Old Navy or the Enzyte (natural male enhancement) campaigns. Perhaps it was a viral anti-ad that escaped the confines of the web somehow to reach legitimate TV. At least I wasn't the only one baffled. A quick google of "Apply directly to the forehead" returned hundreds of pages, with many bloggers howling for medieval tortures to be applied to the person responsible.
He was easy enough to find. HeadOn is made by a company called Miralus Healthcare, which has offices in Canada and Florida (the actual product is manufactured in Chicago). With a couple of calls I managed to contact Dan Charron, vice president of sales and marketing. I asked if he was aware of the buzz.
"We first knew something was up when we found all the web pages devoted to the commercials," he said. Did he also notice people saying it was the most awesomely awful commercial they'd ever seen? That surprised him. "Nobody in the focus groups said the ads were annoying," he said, a statement that made me feel very sorry for focus groups.
But, come on, this is some kind of postmodern gag, right, a parody of the hyper-hard sell? Alas, no. "We didn't intend it to be a joke," Charron said. "The idea is that all our competitors are pills. Our product you apply directly to the forehead. That's what makes it different. We wanted for people to remember it. It's the only product that you apply directly to the forehead." He kept saying that. This is the ad you get when Rain Man is your VP of marketing.
What about the peculiar anti-style of the commercial? The ad—which cost "almost nothing," said Charron—is actually an edited version of an earlier advertisement, recycling the same footage of the head-rubbing woman. At the request of the Better Business Bureau, HeadOn removed claims that the product provides relief from headaches, migraines and headache pain with sleeplessness.
Thus expunged of any claim of efficacy or benefit, what remains is, I think, unique in advertising: a commercial that says nothing about the product except how to use it. And this is where it gets weird. Because of its strange and evocative emptiness, the "apply directly" sound bite is catching on. There's now a web site that has laid it down behind a hip-hop dance mix. Another has converted it into a ring tone. How soon before we see T-shirts emblazoned with the phrase, above a picture of a frosty mug of beer? It's a tribute to pop's alchemical power that the most uncool commercial in the history of TV has somehow been rendered, well, cool.
Meanwhile, Charron and his company are working on the next round of HeadOn commercials. If you want me, I'll be in the bell tower.
7.20.2006
Enough is Enough
1. "Desperate Housewives"
2. Star Jones vs. Barbara Walters
3. The term "baby bump"
4. Will Farrell
5. Keith Richards
6. George W.
7. TV ads for Carls Jr.
8. Jessicas Simpson and Alba
9. "The Sopranos"
10. Brad and Angelina
11. Trailers telling us not to pirate movies
12. $5 bottles of water at baseball games
13. Paris Hilton
14. Drivers who go 4 mph in parking garages looking for a space when there's plenty just two levels up
15. MIA Suri Cruise
16. The cult of Oprah
17. The witch hunt for Barry Bonds
18. Paula Abdul
19. The argument that Angels and Demons is a better book than The DaVinci Code
20. The space shuttle
21. The "War on Terror"
22. CNN's Nancy Grace
23. Gene Shalit
24. The weathermen on the network morning shows
25. Kobe Bryant
26. Lifetime movies
27. US Weekly and its tabloid magazine ilk
28. Heat waves
29. Jay Leno
30. Blogs
31. Motorcycle riders who don't install a muffler
32. "My Super Sweet 16"
2. Star Jones vs. Barbara Walters
3. The term "baby bump"
4. Will Farrell
5. Keith Richards
6. George W.
7. TV ads for Carls Jr.
8. Jessicas Simpson and Alba
9. "The Sopranos"
10. Brad and Angelina
11. Trailers telling us not to pirate movies
12. $5 bottles of water at baseball games
13. Paris Hilton
14. Drivers who go 4 mph in parking garages looking for a space when there's plenty just two levels up
15. MIA Suri Cruise
16. The cult of Oprah
17. The witch hunt for Barry Bonds
18. Paula Abdul
19. The argument that Angels and Demons is a better book than The DaVinci Code
20. The space shuttle
21. The "War on Terror"
22. CNN's Nancy Grace
23. Gene Shalit
24. The weathermen on the network morning shows
25. Kobe Bryant
26. Lifetime movies
27. US Weekly and its tabloid magazine ilk
28. Heat waves
29. Jay Leno
30. Blogs
31. Motorcycle riders who don't install a muffler
32. "My Super Sweet 16"
7.02.2006
Summer movie haikus
Mission: Impossible III
Tom’s franchise is back
Gadgets, stunts, hot girls, Ving Rhames
Please pass the popcorn
X-Men 3Wolverine’s still cool
Ratner’s pic is pretty good
Singer’s were better
Cars
Pixar’s always good
But this one goes on too long
It’s no Toy Story
The Lake HouseTime travel romance
Poignant? Yes. Chemistry? No.
We blame Keanu
Superman ReturnsGood, but should be great
Margot’s Lois Lane’s better
We waited for this?
The Devil Wears Prada
Your worst nightmare boss
But worse and played by Meryl
Anne’s the next Julia
Tom’s franchise is back
Gadgets, stunts, hot girls, Ving Rhames
Please pass the popcorn
X-Men 3Wolverine’s still cool
Ratner’s pic is pretty good
Singer’s were better
Cars
Pixar’s always good
But this one goes on too long
It’s no Toy Story
The Lake HouseTime travel romance
Poignant? Yes. Chemistry? No.
We blame Keanu
Superman ReturnsGood, but should be great
Margot’s Lois Lane’s better
We waited for this?
The Devil Wears Prada
Your worst nightmare boss
But worse and played by Meryl
Anne’s the next Julia
3.16.2006
The Best and Worst Films of 2005
1. Crash proved to be a curiously polarizing film, not so much for the raw, incendiary themes it’s exploring but more for the way writer-director Paul Haggis (and co-writer Bobby Moresco) explores them. Some embrace the film’s complex look at racial tensions and stereotypes and the implication that there is the capacity in all of us for both cowardly prejudice and color-blind fairness given certain circumstances. Others, though, can get past neither the film’s structure that allows a handful of characters to repeatedly (and, yes, sometimes implausibly) cross paths nor a preachy tone that sometimes feels a bit medicinal. Those snobbish people really should get over themselves. Crash is more parable than documentary. Viewed with the right mindset, it’s a powerful experience, thanks mostly to storylines featuring LAPD cop Matt Dillon and Hollywood player Terrence Howard. A must-see.
2. Brokeback Mountain reminds us that it’s often the languid, lyrical films that stick with you, the ones that take their sweet time and find big drama and meaning in the smallest of moments. There’s real poetry at work here – big credit for that goes to Gustavo Santaolalla’s haunting (and justly Oscar-winning) score and the spare screenplay by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana - in this tragic story of two ranch hands harboring a secret love. It’s easy to politicize a film that deconstructs so heterosexual a symbol as the American Cowboy, but this is really no more than a variation on the familiar story of star-crossed lovers held apart by social convention. You may have heard that Heath Ledger is a revelation as the more tormented and repressed of the two cowboys, but attention must also be paid to the silent heartbreak conveyed by Michelle Williams as a wife whose marriage is a sham. By now, no one can say that Ang Lee isn’t one of our most versatile film directors (check out his credits if don’t believe it).
3. A History of Violence has its story roots in a graphic novel (adapted here by Josh Olson) and the pulpiness shows. It’s a lean, mean story about a small-town business owner and family man who may or may not have once been a ruthless mob enforcer. Is his past catching up to him? If so, how will he respond? It’s been said Canadian director David Cronenberg saw this film as an exploration of America’s unique obsession with violence, which makes sense given the way his movie gooses you to cheer when the bad guys get what they deserve while at the same time delivering the blood in such gruesome detail that you almost want to look away. The last half-hour is quite the bloodbath. That complexity – violence hurts, but it sure can be fun and sexy – lends unexpected depth and intelligence to what could have been another man-protects-his-family thriller.
4. The Constant Gardener may be gussied up with flashy non-linear editing, stylishly loose cinematography, and a poignant romance between bookish bureaucrat Ralph Fiennes and firebrand activist Rachel Weisz, but make no mistake: this is an old-fashioned spy thriller. And, in the able hands of director Fernando Meirelles, it’s a deliciously good one. In an exotic land of intrigue (here, it’s Africa), no one is who they seem, greed costs lives, a naïve hero learns the world is an uglier place than he ever imagined, and there is danger at every turn. Weisz (whose rather tart on-screen persona isn’t always easy to like) rightly won an Oscar because she’s the soul of the movie - it’s her character, and the love and respect so many of the other characters have for her, that drives the whole story.
5. Syriana weaves a complicated, layered tapestry of disparate subplots and agendas and locales and characters, all of which connect and impact one another in unexpected ways. Writer-director Stephen Gaghan wants nothing less than to offer a glimpse inside the murky political and business machinations at work in the Middle East. If it’s an undeniably ambitious film, it’s also one that never for a moment underestimates its audience. If anything, the film is perhaps too literate: much of the dialogue is hard to follow and it’s not always exactly clear what’s going on or who’s doing what to do. But when was the last time a Hollywood film’s main problem was that it was too smart? Rest assured, if you pay attention in Syriana you will the gist and feel smarter in the end for doing so. All this plus a riveting (and now Oscar-winning) performance by George Clooney who finally forgoes his glossy movie star image.
6. Walk the Line is a fairly straightforward story as its core: haunted and tortured artist is redeemed through the love of a good woman. What makes the film sparkle, obviously, are the details. The uniqueness of the backdrop certainly helps as the story explores some dark corners of the Southern-fried American country/rock music scene of the 1950s and 60s. (There’s a whole lot of singing going on here and without question, this movie will work best for fans of country music.) There’s also a lot to be said about the surprisingly assured direction of heretofore B-list director James Mangold. But it’s really the caliber of the acting that elevates a story that could just have easily been a Sunday night movie for Lifetime. We always knew Joaquin Phoenix could play brooding and misunderstood, but the steely resolve shown by Reese Witherspoon as June Carter Cash is a complete surprise.
7. The Interpreter works as a welcome throwback to the slickly-made, post-Watergate paranoid political thrillers of the 1970s, which should come as no surprise since director Sydney Pollack directed one of the best of that era: Three Days of the Condor. All the requisite elements are here: an assassination plot that must be thwarted, a mysterious witness who may or not be trustworthy, a grizzled cop stumbling onto a vast conspiracy, a ripped-from-the-headlines political backstory (here, the bloody civil wars in Africa) that gives the action a global scope and ups the stakes. Stars Nicole Kidman (the mysterious witness) and Sean Penn (the grizzled cop) are predictably good, but it’s Pollack - with writers Charles Randolph, Scott Frank, and Steven Zallian – who delivers the real goods, particularly in a sweaty sequence involving a possible terrorist bombing. Top-notch.
8. Constantine reminds us that as tired as some genres might seem, they can always be revived with a skillful execution. The demons-and-hellfire supernatural thriller in which a lone hero must combat the forces of Satan (or some Satan-like power) is a cinematic staple, particularly on the lower shelves of the video store. But director Francis Lawrence, working from a script by Kevin Brodbin and Frank Capello – based on a graphic novel Hellblazer – gives the clichéd premise renewed life. There’s a lot of the expected mumbo-jumbo about demons and angels walking amongst us and the delicate balance of power between God and Satan, but the film ultimately works, believe it or not, because of a solid performance by none other than Keanu Reeves as a sad-sack sinner trying to win a spot in heaven by battling demons. It’s his universal dilemma – how can I redeem myself? – that makes the film about far more than just cool special effects.
9. Munich stirred quite a bit of controversy in its depiction of the Arab-Israeli conflict, which is far too volatile a problem to allow for a reasoned discussion by all parties. In exploring the fallout of the 1972 Olympic massacre (and subtly linking that conflict with today’s “War on Terror” thanks to a shot of a 1970s-era World Trade Center), director Steven Spielberg and writers Eric Roth and Tony Kushner have been accused of being either too sympathetic or not sympathetic enough depending on who’s doing the accusing. But it seems clear they’re less interested in taking sides than in exploring the ambiguity and slippery morals involved in eye-for-an-eye justice. How do you define justifiable murder? The film isn’t without its flaws, particularly a strange climax that intercuts a sex scene with the Munich massacre, but it remains a compelling – and probably necessary - look at the politics of revenge.
10. Hustle & Flow treads much of the same ground as the Eminem melodrama 8 Mile as it explores the hard-scrabble rise of a rap artist trying to break free from lower-class hopelessness. But there’s a much more palpable sense of desperation and urgency in this film. Things may have seemed dire for Eminem’s factory worker, but that’s nothing compared to the situation weary pimp D-Jay (a magnetic Terrance Howard) finds himself in as he starts to realize that unless he can turn things around, he’ll never be anything more than a back-alley pimp. Like Rocky Balboa, he just wants one shot at greatness. Extra credit to writer-director Craig Brewer for providing so infectiously compelling a look at the way D-Jay and his crew slowly create the rap anthem “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp.”
11 (tie). The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Wedding Crashers both deserve praise – as well as admiration - for delivering high-octane laughs. When was the last time you watched a comedy that was truly, consistently funny? Most supposed comedies these days are too creaky (the endless variations on girl-meets-boy romantic comedies) or self-aware (the shameless mugging of Adam Sandler and his minions) to draw more than a smile or chuckle from audiences. But these two films benefited greatly from the perfect marriage of clever premise (a 40-year-old who never had sex, two horndogs troll wedding receptions for easy conquests) and charismatic talent (the awkwardness of Steve Carrell, the wise-ass charm of Vince Vaughn). Yes, both films suffer from needlessly long second acts, but it’s hard to complain when they mostly succeed where so many mostly fail.
Honorable mentions: Batman Begins; The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; Cinderella Man; The Family Stone; Funny Ha Ha; Good Night, and Good Luck; Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire; In Her Shoes; Jarhead; Mr. and Mrs. Smith; Red Eye; Serenity; Sin City; and Zathura.
The Dukes of Hazzard couldn’t have gone more wrong. How an amusingly corny (though beloved) 1970s TV show got transformed into so painfully unfunny a feature film is baffling. The problem seems to be that the filmmakers weren’t sure what approach to take with it. Do you update it and make it hip and mod like Charlie’s Angels or satirize cheesy 1970s anachronisms like The Brady Bunch? Neither, it turns out. Instead, just offer some lame jokes, a few car chases, and hope it all works out. But it doesn’t. Just about every decision is the wrong one. This includes giving Bo Duke a creepy romantic fixation on the General Lee, making Roscoe T. Coltrane and Boss Hogg figures of intelligent menace (instead of idiot comic foils as in the TV show), and casting dim-bulb Jessica Simpson as Daisy Duke. A disaster.
War of the Worlds may take the record for worst flame-out in movie history. The first hour of the film – depicting a devastating attack from alien tripods with creepy echoes of September 11 - is about as tense and engrossing a set-up as you’ll see as Tom Cruise and his kids go on a desperate run for survival. The problem, as you’ve probably heard, is an ending that fizzles when it should have sizzled. Yes, the reason for the aliens’ demise stays true to H.G. Wells’ original, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good or satisfying reason. And you can’t blame H.G. Wells for a incongruously happy ending in which characters who should have died in the alien attacks suddenly turn up happy and whole in a neighborhood strangely untouched by the carnage we’ve just watched for two hours.
Flightplan reminds us that even Jodie Foster is mortal. The two-time Oscar winner typically has an impeccable taste in projects. She’s so discerning that her very presence in a film usually means it’s better than average. Not so here. This film boasts a pretty cool set-up (when a woman’s daughter goes missing during a long plane flight, no one remembers her having a daughter) in search of a second act. Foster – under the ham-fisted direction of Robert Schwentke – goes into full-tilt panic mode right away and there she stays for the rest of the film. They don’t get much more annoying than this.
2. Brokeback Mountain reminds us that it’s often the languid, lyrical films that stick with you, the ones that take their sweet time and find big drama and meaning in the smallest of moments. There’s real poetry at work here – big credit for that goes to Gustavo Santaolalla’s haunting (and justly Oscar-winning) score and the spare screenplay by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana - in this tragic story of two ranch hands harboring a secret love. It’s easy to politicize a film that deconstructs so heterosexual a symbol as the American Cowboy, but this is really no more than a variation on the familiar story of star-crossed lovers held apart by social convention. You may have heard that Heath Ledger is a revelation as the more tormented and repressed of the two cowboys, but attention must also be paid to the silent heartbreak conveyed by Michelle Williams as a wife whose marriage is a sham. By now, no one can say that Ang Lee isn’t one of our most versatile film directors (check out his credits if don’t believe it).
3. A History of Violence has its story roots in a graphic novel (adapted here by Josh Olson) and the pulpiness shows. It’s a lean, mean story about a small-town business owner and family man who may or may not have once been a ruthless mob enforcer. Is his past catching up to him? If so, how will he respond? It’s been said Canadian director David Cronenberg saw this film as an exploration of America’s unique obsession with violence, which makes sense given the way his movie gooses you to cheer when the bad guys get what they deserve while at the same time delivering the blood in such gruesome detail that you almost want to look away. The last half-hour is quite the bloodbath. That complexity – violence hurts, but it sure can be fun and sexy – lends unexpected depth and intelligence to what could have been another man-protects-his-family thriller.
4. The Constant Gardener may be gussied up with flashy non-linear editing, stylishly loose cinematography, and a poignant romance between bookish bureaucrat Ralph Fiennes and firebrand activist Rachel Weisz, but make no mistake: this is an old-fashioned spy thriller. And, in the able hands of director Fernando Meirelles, it’s a deliciously good one. In an exotic land of intrigue (here, it’s Africa), no one is who they seem, greed costs lives, a naïve hero learns the world is an uglier place than he ever imagined, and there is danger at every turn. Weisz (whose rather tart on-screen persona isn’t always easy to like) rightly won an Oscar because she’s the soul of the movie - it’s her character, and the love and respect so many of the other characters have for her, that drives the whole story.
5. Syriana weaves a complicated, layered tapestry of disparate subplots and agendas and locales and characters, all of which connect and impact one another in unexpected ways. Writer-director Stephen Gaghan wants nothing less than to offer a glimpse inside the murky political and business machinations at work in the Middle East. If it’s an undeniably ambitious film, it’s also one that never for a moment underestimates its audience. If anything, the film is perhaps too literate: much of the dialogue is hard to follow and it’s not always exactly clear what’s going on or who’s doing what to do. But when was the last time a Hollywood film’s main problem was that it was too smart? Rest assured, if you pay attention in Syriana you will the gist and feel smarter in the end for doing so. All this plus a riveting (and now Oscar-winning) performance by George Clooney who finally forgoes his glossy movie star image.
6. Walk the Line is a fairly straightforward story as its core: haunted and tortured artist is redeemed through the love of a good woman. What makes the film sparkle, obviously, are the details. The uniqueness of the backdrop certainly helps as the story explores some dark corners of the Southern-fried American country/rock music scene of the 1950s and 60s. (There’s a whole lot of singing going on here and without question, this movie will work best for fans of country music.) There’s also a lot to be said about the surprisingly assured direction of heretofore B-list director James Mangold. But it’s really the caliber of the acting that elevates a story that could just have easily been a Sunday night movie for Lifetime. We always knew Joaquin Phoenix could play brooding and misunderstood, but the steely resolve shown by Reese Witherspoon as June Carter Cash is a complete surprise.
7. The Interpreter works as a welcome throwback to the slickly-made, post-Watergate paranoid political thrillers of the 1970s, which should come as no surprise since director Sydney Pollack directed one of the best of that era: Three Days of the Condor. All the requisite elements are here: an assassination plot that must be thwarted, a mysterious witness who may or not be trustworthy, a grizzled cop stumbling onto a vast conspiracy, a ripped-from-the-headlines political backstory (here, the bloody civil wars in Africa) that gives the action a global scope and ups the stakes. Stars Nicole Kidman (the mysterious witness) and Sean Penn (the grizzled cop) are predictably good, but it’s Pollack - with writers Charles Randolph, Scott Frank, and Steven Zallian – who delivers the real goods, particularly in a sweaty sequence involving a possible terrorist bombing. Top-notch.
8. Constantine reminds us that as tired as some genres might seem, they can always be revived with a skillful execution. The demons-and-hellfire supernatural thriller in which a lone hero must combat the forces of Satan (or some Satan-like power) is a cinematic staple, particularly on the lower shelves of the video store. But director Francis Lawrence, working from a script by Kevin Brodbin and Frank Capello – based on a graphic novel Hellblazer – gives the clichéd premise renewed life. There’s a lot of the expected mumbo-jumbo about demons and angels walking amongst us and the delicate balance of power between God and Satan, but the film ultimately works, believe it or not, because of a solid performance by none other than Keanu Reeves as a sad-sack sinner trying to win a spot in heaven by battling demons. It’s his universal dilemma – how can I redeem myself? – that makes the film about far more than just cool special effects.
9. Munich stirred quite a bit of controversy in its depiction of the Arab-Israeli conflict, which is far too volatile a problem to allow for a reasoned discussion by all parties. In exploring the fallout of the 1972 Olympic massacre (and subtly linking that conflict with today’s “War on Terror” thanks to a shot of a 1970s-era World Trade Center), director Steven Spielberg and writers Eric Roth and Tony Kushner have been accused of being either too sympathetic or not sympathetic enough depending on who’s doing the accusing. But it seems clear they’re less interested in taking sides than in exploring the ambiguity and slippery morals involved in eye-for-an-eye justice. How do you define justifiable murder? The film isn’t without its flaws, particularly a strange climax that intercuts a sex scene with the Munich massacre, but it remains a compelling – and probably necessary - look at the politics of revenge.
10. Hustle & Flow treads much of the same ground as the Eminem melodrama 8 Mile as it explores the hard-scrabble rise of a rap artist trying to break free from lower-class hopelessness. But there’s a much more palpable sense of desperation and urgency in this film. Things may have seemed dire for Eminem’s factory worker, but that’s nothing compared to the situation weary pimp D-Jay (a magnetic Terrance Howard) finds himself in as he starts to realize that unless he can turn things around, he’ll never be anything more than a back-alley pimp. Like Rocky Balboa, he just wants one shot at greatness. Extra credit to writer-director Craig Brewer for providing so infectiously compelling a look at the way D-Jay and his crew slowly create the rap anthem “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp.”
11 (tie). The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Wedding Crashers both deserve praise – as well as admiration - for delivering high-octane laughs. When was the last time you watched a comedy that was truly, consistently funny? Most supposed comedies these days are too creaky (the endless variations on girl-meets-boy romantic comedies) or self-aware (the shameless mugging of Adam Sandler and his minions) to draw more than a smile or chuckle from audiences. But these two films benefited greatly from the perfect marriage of clever premise (a 40-year-old who never had sex, two horndogs troll wedding receptions for easy conquests) and charismatic talent (the awkwardness of Steve Carrell, the wise-ass charm of Vince Vaughn). Yes, both films suffer from needlessly long second acts, but it’s hard to complain when they mostly succeed where so many mostly fail.
Honorable mentions: Batman Begins; The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; Cinderella Man; The Family Stone; Funny Ha Ha; Good Night, and Good Luck; Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire; In Her Shoes; Jarhead; Mr. and Mrs. Smith; Red Eye; Serenity; Sin City; and Zathura.
The Dukes of Hazzard couldn’t have gone more wrong. How an amusingly corny (though beloved) 1970s TV show got transformed into so painfully unfunny a feature film is baffling. The problem seems to be that the filmmakers weren’t sure what approach to take with it. Do you update it and make it hip and mod like Charlie’s Angels or satirize cheesy 1970s anachronisms like The Brady Bunch? Neither, it turns out. Instead, just offer some lame jokes, a few car chases, and hope it all works out. But it doesn’t. Just about every decision is the wrong one. This includes giving Bo Duke a creepy romantic fixation on the General Lee, making Roscoe T. Coltrane and Boss Hogg figures of intelligent menace (instead of idiot comic foils as in the TV show), and casting dim-bulb Jessica Simpson as Daisy Duke. A disaster.
War of the Worlds may take the record for worst flame-out in movie history. The first hour of the film – depicting a devastating attack from alien tripods with creepy echoes of September 11 - is about as tense and engrossing a set-up as you’ll see as Tom Cruise and his kids go on a desperate run for survival. The problem, as you’ve probably heard, is an ending that fizzles when it should have sizzled. Yes, the reason for the aliens’ demise stays true to H.G. Wells’ original, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good or satisfying reason. And you can’t blame H.G. Wells for a incongruously happy ending in which characters who should have died in the alien attacks suddenly turn up happy and whole in a neighborhood strangely untouched by the carnage we’ve just watched for two hours.
Flightplan reminds us that even Jodie Foster is mortal. The two-time Oscar winner typically has an impeccable taste in projects. She’s so discerning that her very presence in a film usually means it’s better than average. Not so here. This film boasts a pretty cool set-up (when a woman’s daughter goes missing during a long plane flight, no one remembers her having a daughter) in search of a second act. Foster – under the ham-fisted direction of Robert Schwentke – goes into full-tilt panic mode right away and there she stays for the rest of the film. They don’t get much more annoying than this.
Guilty Pleasures: MTV
It’s fashionable for Generation Xers (weaned on Martha Quinn and reruns of “The Young Ones”) to complain about MTV these days and its reluctance to play music videos outside of a few snippets on TRL. Last the Cheese Fry checked, the M in their name still meant “music.” But the network now is more of a “lifestyle” channel that programs its schedule with an eye to exploiting the trendy, sex-obsessed, in-your-face sensibility of its target demographic.
Even so, if you choose wisely, MTV can still deliver the goods, even if it’s often a guilty pleasure that comes with a whole lot of Clearasil spots. The best of the bunch are these three:
1. Made. This show – a rather traditional one-hour documentary, though not something you’d ever confuse with “60 Minutes” – offers the kinder, gentler side of MTV, a channel that each year shamelessly broadcasts from the half-naked, drunken beaches of Spring Break. Each episode of “Made” follows one high schooler as he/she works to attain some dream or goal (which usually seems fairly arbitrary) with the help of a professional guide. See the school geek try to become a rocker, see the outcast try to join the basketball team, see the wallflower try to become a tough skateboarder. On its face of it the whole thing is rather silly, but these kids are far more real – full of doubt, worry, and a desperate need to fit in – than the plastic specimens you’ll see squealing on the Spring Break shows. Plus, the brutally clique-ish high school social scene on display in each episode in verite detail is sure to induce cringes in any viewer who managed to barely escape the 12th grade in one piece. It’s a John Hughes film come to life.
2. Next. The Dating Game for the ADD set. One contestant gets to meet five people to date (yes, there are same-sex episodes) and at any minute can say “Next!” to dump that person and meet the next one in the queue. When the contestant finally meets the date he/she likes, he gives them a chance to go on another date (without the camera crew) or take home one dollar for every minute they’ve been together. Whatever. The fun comes just from watching the cross-section calvacade of contestants and dates who come from all walks of life and all manners of style and dress, from surfer dudes to goth chicks, stripper chic to preppy nerd. Most of them are the kind of people you’d never in a million years want to date. Which is why it’s so much for see their egos deflated, either by being dismissed with a rude “Next” or by being the one cruelly saying “Next” for such shallow and pointless reasons. The flip side of this, of course, is that you end up rooting hard for the handful of genuinely decent-seeming people.
3. Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Gauntlet 2. All the punctuation (and that cheeky “2”) in the wordy title can be intimidating, yes, but this is the guiltiest of MTV guilty pleasures, an ingenious and addictive cross-pollination between “Survivor”-style elimination challenges and bratty 20-something psychodrama of “The Real World.” By now MTV has cultivated a fairly extensive stable of reality TV stars thanks to so many years of “Real World” and “Road Rules” seasons and the network treats the cast members like its own personal company of actors, each with his or her own role to play – some are villains, some are heroes, some can be counted on, some are hopeless flakes. Because no one cuts tape together better than MTV’s editors, you can’t help but get sucked into the petty jealousies, beer-soaked bravado, and snarky to-the-camera testimonials. Watch it once if only for the extremely over-the-top opening credits packed full of an inordinate amount of sexy pouts and sullen glares that’s apparently intended to be taken completely seriously. We kid because we love.
Even so, if you choose wisely, MTV can still deliver the goods, even if it’s often a guilty pleasure that comes with a whole lot of Clearasil spots. The best of the bunch are these three:
1. Made. This show – a rather traditional one-hour documentary, though not something you’d ever confuse with “60 Minutes” – offers the kinder, gentler side of MTV, a channel that each year shamelessly broadcasts from the half-naked, drunken beaches of Spring Break. Each episode of “Made” follows one high schooler as he/she works to attain some dream or goal (which usually seems fairly arbitrary) with the help of a professional guide. See the school geek try to become a rocker, see the outcast try to join the basketball team, see the wallflower try to become a tough skateboarder. On its face of it the whole thing is rather silly, but these kids are far more real – full of doubt, worry, and a desperate need to fit in – than the plastic specimens you’ll see squealing on the Spring Break shows. Plus, the brutally clique-ish high school social scene on display in each episode in verite detail is sure to induce cringes in any viewer who managed to barely escape the 12th grade in one piece. It’s a John Hughes film come to life.
2. Next. The Dating Game for the ADD set. One contestant gets to meet five people to date (yes, there are same-sex episodes) and at any minute can say “Next!” to dump that person and meet the next one in the queue. When the contestant finally meets the date he/she likes, he gives them a chance to go on another date (without the camera crew) or take home one dollar for every minute they’ve been together. Whatever. The fun comes just from watching the cross-section calvacade of contestants and dates who come from all walks of life and all manners of style and dress, from surfer dudes to goth chicks, stripper chic to preppy nerd. Most of them are the kind of people you’d never in a million years want to date. Which is why it’s so much for see their egos deflated, either by being dismissed with a rude “Next” or by being the one cruelly saying “Next” for such shallow and pointless reasons. The flip side of this, of course, is that you end up rooting hard for the handful of genuinely decent-seeming people.
3. Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Gauntlet 2. All the punctuation (and that cheeky “2”) in the wordy title can be intimidating, yes, but this is the guiltiest of MTV guilty pleasures, an ingenious and addictive cross-pollination between “Survivor”-style elimination challenges and bratty 20-something psychodrama of “The Real World.” By now MTV has cultivated a fairly extensive stable of reality TV stars thanks to so many years of “Real World” and “Road Rules” seasons and the network treats the cast members like its own personal company of actors, each with his or her own role to play – some are villains, some are heroes, some can be counted on, some are hopeless flakes. Because no one cuts tape together better than MTV’s editors, you can’t help but get sucked into the petty jealousies, beer-soaked bravado, and snarky to-the-camera testimonials. Watch it once if only for the extremely over-the-top opening credits packed full of an inordinate amount of sexy pouts and sullen glares that’s apparently intended to be taken completely seriously. We kid because we love.
3.12.2006
Lost “Maternity Leave”
Cool: There was something a little odd to the Cheese Fry the way Ethan (in the flashback) gave Claire water from a canteen that she described as sour. It's too strange a detail to be meaningless. A clue, perhaps, to some other secret?
Cooler: Zeke, the ostensible leader of the Others, isn’t a ragged bearded island man at all. We see him here as a clean-cut professional. (Kate later finds a locker full of Other disguises straight from the costume department at ABC.)
Huh?: Last week Jack was in full sanctimonious mode and resisted the idea of keeping Henry hostage for torture. This week, however, he’s intent on preserving the secret. Which is it? And where, for that matter, did Sayid disappear to in this episode?
Best Line: “I just don’t know why you let the doctor call the shots.” – Henry Gale trying to get under John’s skin and – surprisingly – succeeding. It’s a little hard to believe John is this fragile and so easily manipulated, but I guess his resentment to Jack is becoming harder to conceal.
Rising: Claire, who’s fiercely determined to follow Rousseau into the jungle in an effort to learn what happened when Ethan kidnapped her. Who knew she had this kind of guts and gumption (or whatever they call guts and gumption in Australia)?
Falling: Sawyer, who rather easily agrees to let three women go into the jungle alone to try and find Ethan’s lair. He acts like they're just taking an afternoon, no-big-deal stroll to gather coconuts. Yeah, he's a jerk, but one would expect he'd insist on tagging along, if only to protect psuedo-girlfriend Kate.
Cooler: Zeke, the ostensible leader of the Others, isn’t a ragged bearded island man at all. We see him here as a clean-cut professional. (Kate later finds a locker full of Other disguises straight from the costume department at ABC.)
Huh?: Last week Jack was in full sanctimonious mode and resisted the idea of keeping Henry hostage for torture. This week, however, he’s intent on preserving the secret. Which is it? And where, for that matter, did Sayid disappear to in this episode?
Best Line: “I just don’t know why you let the doctor call the shots.” – Henry Gale trying to get under John’s skin and – surprisingly – succeeding. It’s a little hard to believe John is this fragile and so easily manipulated, but I guess his resentment to Jack is becoming harder to conceal.
Rising: Claire, who’s fiercely determined to follow Rousseau into the jungle in an effort to learn what happened when Ethan kidnapped her. Who knew she had this kind of guts and gumption (or whatever they call guts and gumption in Australia)?
Falling: Sawyer, who rather easily agrees to let three women go into the jungle alone to try and find Ethan’s lair. He acts like they're just taking an afternoon, no-big-deal stroll to gather coconuts. Yeah, he's a jerk, but one would expect he'd insist on tagging along, if only to protect psuedo-girlfriend Kate.
3.05.2006
"78th Annual Academy Awards"
A chronological stream-of-consciousness reaction courtesy The Cheese Fry:
* What starts as a funny bit with past hosts rejecting the call to host this year's awards (beginning with Billy Crystal and Chris Rock in the Brokeback pup tent) ends rather weakly with Jon Stewart in bed with George Clooney in some strained attempt at a topical gay joke. Maybe it looked good on paper.
* Is it me or is Jon Stewart having trouble with his monologue?
* Clooney wins for Best Supporting Actor, which was fairly predictable.
* What's with this new element of playing music under the winners' acceptance speeches? Presumably, it's to keep the pressure on to prevent any needlessly long speeches, but it gives the show one more level of melodramatic cheese. This isn't a Lifetime movie.
* The Tom Hanks getting-hit-over-the-head with a viola bit is kind of funny.
* It's Ben Stiller who gets the first genuine laughs of the night with his shameless delivery of the visual effects Oscar wearing an unflattering greenscreen body suit.
* The two winners of Wallace and Gromit put on their new Oscars bow ties that match their own. A cute touch, but it robs them of humility - they must have figured they had a good shot since they went to the trouble of making the bow ties. And who likes people who let you know that they knew they'd win, even if they knew they'd win?
* Naomi Watts, usually smoking hot, looks decidedly un-hot in an ugly dress whose color matches her skin tone.
* Dolly Parton works the room like it's the Ryman and has the Oscar crowd clapping their hands. Weird.
* A nice change to preview the Best Picture candidates by simply showing clips during show bumpers, rather than wasting time to bring out a presenter to read some pithy lines about How Important the nominated film is and then introduce the clip.
* Stewart's Scientology joke flops, reminding one how very seriously these people take all of this. Hollywood doesn't have a sense of humor about itself.
* Luke and Owen Wilson sure are charming, aren't they?
* Why can't the Academy find some way to let audiences see the live-action and animated nominated shorts? It's a crime that it's so impossible to find these films.
* Also a crime? The unending insistence on inserting cartoon characters into a live-action award show. The same people who won't laugh at a Scientology joke seem to think this kind of Saturday-morning cable-access nonsense is clever.
* Will Ferrell and Steve Carrel are pretty funny in their bad makeup.
* Another joke flops as Jon Stewart tries to riff on Russell Crowe's bad boy reputation.
* Consider Rachel McAdams another perennially smoking hot actress who somehow doesn't look good in her Oscar get up. What's going on?
* Only Morgan Freeman can get away with wearing a suit with no tie.
* Rachel Weisz wins Best Supporting Actress, which is what the pundits seemed to think would happen.
* Lauren Bacall fills in one of Oscars' most coveted slots: Aging Star Who Can't Read the Teleprompter.
* Jon Stewart finally delivers the goods with his Best Actress campaign ads: Keira Knightley for "Acting While Beautiful," Reese Witherspoon and "crazy letters that make no sense," and Judi Dench is no dame. Hilarious.
* Terrance Howard sure is charismatic and could become the Next Denzel. You read it here first.
* Strange that the March of the Penguins winners didn't say anything about how their film had to be rescued from oblivion by an American distribution executive who made the wise decision to stick on the Morgan Freeman narration, thus helping pave the way to box office gold and the Oscar. Hmmm.
* Jennifer Lopez. At what point is her 15 minutes of fame up, anyway? Enough is enough.
* Dolly Parton had the stage all to herself but for the Crash song we get interpretive dance and a burning car.
* What is the deal with these pointless montages? First the biopic retrospective, then the film noir retrospective, and now a rather random collection of clips about films with social impact. Hollywood is always annoyingly self-congratulatory, but this is ridiculous. And this clip package ends with a musical flourish that borders on parody.
* The Cheese Fry just doesn't get the appeal of the Ms. Salma Hayek.
* Gustavo Santaolalla justly wins for his memorable score to Brokeback Mountain, the only one that sounded unique and not just the same old bombastic orchestral score you've heard a million times. It's so memorable, in fact, that (right or wrong) it's become shorthand for homosexual subtext.
* Stewart scores with a joke about Itzak Perlman finger syncing his violin performance.
* Another montage, this one about epics. Stewart jokes that they're all out of clips now. Ouch.
* The Cheese Fry really doesn't get the appeal of the Ms. Jessica Alba no matter how skillfully the Hollywood PR machine tries to force us all to like her. The lights may be on, but no one's home.
* Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep deliver the goods with an amusing and, in a pre-canned evening of plastic phoniness, very natural introduction to Robert Altman by paying tribute to his customary technique of sloppy, improvised, overlapping dialogue.
* "It's Hard Out There for a Pimp" gets the Sonny and Cher Hour treatment with writhing dancers and flashing disco lights. Subtlety has never met Oscar.
* Oops: the camera shows briefly a couple of tuxedoed stagehands moving a "Pimp" streetlamp prop off the stage.
* The annual "In Memoriam" montage ends - as always - with the heavy hitters sure to pull the biggest applause: producer Ismail Merchant, then director Robert Wise, and in the anchorman spot Richard Pryor.
* Stewart lands another hit when he notes Scorsese's got no Oscars and "Pimp" group 3-6 Mafia has one.
* Philip Seymour Hoffman wins Best Actor for a film no one's seen.
* Reese Witherspoon wins for Best Actress and delivers a cutesy, Reese-like speech, including a misty-eyed bit about how June Carter liked to say "I'm just trying to matter."
* Adapted screenplay goes to Brokeback Mountain, original screenplay to Crash. Very predictable. A pox on the houses of Oscar, however, for cutting off Crash co-writer Bobby Moresco. The show's already running past three hours - what's it matter now? Here's an idea: cut those stupid damn montages.
* Stewart's best line, in reference to Brokeback co-writer Larry McMurty's choice of pants: "I didn't know we could wear jeans."
* And now come the esteemed Hollywood royalty: Tom Hanks delivers the Best Director award to Ang Lee, Jack Nicholson (note: aren't we all a little tired of his sunglasses gimmick by now?) delivers Best Picture to Crash.
* It's not an upset of Shakespeare in Love proportions perhaps, but Crash definitely was a come-from-behind winner to topple favorite Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture. Cynics would argue it was the flood of free Crash "For Your Consideration" award DVDs into the Hollywood community that provided the growing momentum these last few weeks. Maybe Stewart was onto something with his TV campaign ads - that could be the next step.
* Further bad karma is assured when the producers cut off Crash producer Cathy Schulman. You just proclaimed her the producer of the Best Picture of 2005 but now you have to end her speech to run another "Sons and Daughters" sitcom promo?
* Final running time: 3.5 hours.
* What starts as a funny bit with past hosts rejecting the call to host this year's awards (beginning with Billy Crystal and Chris Rock in the Brokeback pup tent) ends rather weakly with Jon Stewart in bed with George Clooney in some strained attempt at a topical gay joke. Maybe it looked good on paper.
* Is it me or is Jon Stewart having trouble with his monologue?
* Clooney wins for Best Supporting Actor, which was fairly predictable.
* What's with this new element of playing music under the winners' acceptance speeches? Presumably, it's to keep the pressure on to prevent any needlessly long speeches, but it gives the show one more level of melodramatic cheese. This isn't a Lifetime movie.
* The Tom Hanks getting-hit-over-the-head with a viola bit is kind of funny.
* It's Ben Stiller who gets the first genuine laughs of the night with his shameless delivery of the visual effects Oscar wearing an unflattering greenscreen body suit.
* The two winners of Wallace and Gromit put on their new Oscars bow ties that match their own. A cute touch, but it robs them of humility - they must have figured they had a good shot since they went to the trouble of making the bow ties. And who likes people who let you know that they knew they'd win, even if they knew they'd win?
* Naomi Watts, usually smoking hot, looks decidedly un-hot in an ugly dress whose color matches her skin tone.
* Dolly Parton works the room like it's the Ryman and has the Oscar crowd clapping their hands. Weird.
* A nice change to preview the Best Picture candidates by simply showing clips during show bumpers, rather than wasting time to bring out a presenter to read some pithy lines about How Important the nominated film is and then introduce the clip.
* Stewart's Scientology joke flops, reminding one how very seriously these people take all of this. Hollywood doesn't have a sense of humor about itself.
* Luke and Owen Wilson sure are charming, aren't they?
* Why can't the Academy find some way to let audiences see the live-action and animated nominated shorts? It's a crime that it's so impossible to find these films.
* Also a crime? The unending insistence on inserting cartoon characters into a live-action award show. The same people who won't laugh at a Scientology joke seem to think this kind of Saturday-morning cable-access nonsense is clever.
* Will Ferrell and Steve Carrel are pretty funny in their bad makeup.
* Another joke flops as Jon Stewart tries to riff on Russell Crowe's bad boy reputation.
* Consider Rachel McAdams another perennially smoking hot actress who somehow doesn't look good in her Oscar get up. What's going on?
* Only Morgan Freeman can get away with wearing a suit with no tie.
* Rachel Weisz wins Best Supporting Actress, which is what the pundits seemed to think would happen.
* Lauren Bacall fills in one of Oscars' most coveted slots: Aging Star Who Can't Read the Teleprompter.
* Jon Stewart finally delivers the goods with his Best Actress campaign ads: Keira Knightley for "Acting While Beautiful," Reese Witherspoon and "crazy letters that make no sense," and Judi Dench is no dame. Hilarious.
* Terrance Howard sure is charismatic and could become the Next Denzel. You read it here first.
* Strange that the March of the Penguins winners didn't say anything about how their film had to be rescued from oblivion by an American distribution executive who made the wise decision to stick on the Morgan Freeman narration, thus helping pave the way to box office gold and the Oscar. Hmmm.
* Jennifer Lopez. At what point is her 15 minutes of fame up, anyway? Enough is enough.
* Dolly Parton had the stage all to herself but for the Crash song we get interpretive dance and a burning car.
* What is the deal with these pointless montages? First the biopic retrospective, then the film noir retrospective, and now a rather random collection of clips about films with social impact. Hollywood is always annoyingly self-congratulatory, but this is ridiculous. And this clip package ends with a musical flourish that borders on parody.
* The Cheese Fry just doesn't get the appeal of the Ms. Salma Hayek.
* Gustavo Santaolalla justly wins for his memorable score to Brokeback Mountain, the only one that sounded unique and not just the same old bombastic orchestral score you've heard a million times. It's so memorable, in fact, that (right or wrong) it's become shorthand for homosexual subtext.
* Stewart scores with a joke about Itzak Perlman finger syncing his violin performance.
* Another montage, this one about epics. Stewart jokes that they're all out of clips now. Ouch.
* The Cheese Fry really doesn't get the appeal of the Ms. Jessica Alba no matter how skillfully the Hollywood PR machine tries to force us all to like her. The lights may be on, but no one's home.
* Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep deliver the goods with an amusing and, in a pre-canned evening of plastic phoniness, very natural introduction to Robert Altman by paying tribute to his customary technique of sloppy, improvised, overlapping dialogue.
* "It's Hard Out There for a Pimp" gets the Sonny and Cher Hour treatment with writhing dancers and flashing disco lights. Subtlety has never met Oscar.
* Oops: the camera shows briefly a couple of tuxedoed stagehands moving a "Pimp" streetlamp prop off the stage.
* The annual "In Memoriam" montage ends - as always - with the heavy hitters sure to pull the biggest applause: producer Ismail Merchant, then director Robert Wise, and in the anchorman spot Richard Pryor.
* Stewart lands another hit when he notes Scorsese's got no Oscars and "Pimp" group 3-6 Mafia has one.
* Philip Seymour Hoffman wins Best Actor for a film no one's seen.
* Reese Witherspoon wins for Best Actress and delivers a cutesy, Reese-like speech, including a misty-eyed bit about how June Carter liked to say "I'm just trying to matter."
* Adapted screenplay goes to Brokeback Mountain, original screenplay to Crash. Very predictable. A pox on the houses of Oscar, however, for cutting off Crash co-writer Bobby Moresco. The show's already running past three hours - what's it matter now? Here's an idea: cut those stupid damn montages.
* Stewart's best line, in reference to Brokeback co-writer Larry McMurty's choice of pants: "I didn't know we could wear jeans."
* And now come the esteemed Hollywood royalty: Tom Hanks delivers the Best Director award to Ang Lee, Jack Nicholson (note: aren't we all a little tired of his sunglasses gimmick by now?) delivers Best Picture to Crash.
* It's not an upset of Shakespeare in Love proportions perhaps, but Crash definitely was a come-from-behind winner to topple favorite Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture. Cynics would argue it was the flood of free Crash "For Your Consideration" award DVDs into the Hollywood community that provided the growing momentum these last few weeks. Maybe Stewart was onto something with his TV campaign ads - that could be the next step.
* Further bad karma is assured when the producers cut off Crash producer Cathy Schulman. You just proclaimed her the producer of the Best Picture of 2005 but now you have to end her speech to run another "Sons and Daughters" sitcom promo?
* Final running time: 3.5 hours.
3.03.2006
The One with all the Episodes
Here's a pointlessly trivial listing of all of the episode titles from NBC's Friends. A nice way to reminisce about the pop culture phenom of the 1990s, including the evolving hairstyles of Rachel and Monica, the yo-yoing weight of Chandler, and the slowly dwindling likability of Ross.
2.20.2006
Lost “One of Them”
Cool: Kate’s dad makes an unexpected flashback appearance as one of the soldiers involved in the POW capture of Sayid during the first Gulf War. Presumably, it was footage he shot of Sayid then that makes its way onto his recruitment office TV set for the "What Kate Did" episode flashback.
Cooler: Sayid’s torture skills were in part developed because of the U.S. military’s decision to force Sayid to interrogate one of his superior officers.
Huh? (tie): 1. In looking for the noisy frog, Sawyer and Hurley walk for what looks like miles into the jungle, which begs the question of what kind of superhero frog is this with a ribbit that can be heard on the beach from miles inland. 2. Locke and Sayid rightly assume that Jack will have problems with the torture of Henry Gale, so why not undertake that bloody mission after Jack’s gone? Why do it while he’s still in the hatch and able to intervene?
Best Line: “My name is Sayid Jarrah and I am a torturer.” – Sayid’s matter-of-fact introduction to new character Henry Gale, who may be an innocent wealthy adventurer who travels by hot-air balloon or may be an Other spy like Ethan and Goodwin. By episode’s end, Sayid is convinced he’s an Other, a possibility also suggested to the audience with a rather chillingly half-smirk from Gale.
Falling: Sawyer, who kills a tree frog by crushing it in his fist. When he said he wasn't a good person in the last episode, he wasn't kidding.
Cooler: Sayid’s torture skills were in part developed because of the U.S. military’s decision to force Sayid to interrogate one of his superior officers.
Huh? (tie): 1. In looking for the noisy frog, Sawyer and Hurley walk for what looks like miles into the jungle, which begs the question of what kind of superhero frog is this with a ribbit that can be heard on the beach from miles inland. 2. Locke and Sayid rightly assume that Jack will have problems with the torture of Henry Gale, so why not undertake that bloody mission after Jack’s gone? Why do it while he’s still in the hatch and able to intervene?
Best Line: “My name is Sayid Jarrah and I am a torturer.” – Sayid’s matter-of-fact introduction to new character Henry Gale, who may be an innocent wealthy adventurer who travels by hot-air balloon or may be an Other spy like Ethan and Goodwin. By episode’s end, Sayid is convinced he’s an Other, a possibility also suggested to the audience with a rather chillingly half-smirk from Gale.
Falling: Sawyer, who kills a tree frog by crushing it in his fist. When he said he wasn't a good person in the last episode, he wasn't kidding.
Battlestar Galactica “The Captain’s Hand”
Cool: The Colonials have given the battlestars nicknames – Galactica is the “Bucket” and Pegasus is the “Beast.”
Cooler: Baltar completely torpedoes Roslin during a press conference by announcing that he’s running for president against her. He may have the Cylons on his side, but it’s very possible that we have yet to see the truly dangerous side of Laura Roslin.
Coolest: It’s a compelling debate about whether or not to outlaw abortion in a scenario where humanity is facing extinction and every birth takes us one step closer to survival. What would you do?
Huh?: It’s a little odd that in trying to find the two lost Raptors, everyone stays on the Pegasus sifting through paperwork like Woodward and Bernstein. Why not, like, send out a Viper search party?
Best Line: “I need to go down there. You have the conn.” – Commander Garner ceding control of Pegasus to Apollo and essentially acknowledging that he has no place at the top of the command chain.
Rising: Apollo, who may not be a weak-kneed milquetoast after all. He takes confident control of Pegasus and manages to keep the ship safe long enough for Garner to make his Wrath of Khan-style sacrifice down in engineering, killing himself but repairing the ship.
Cooler: Baltar completely torpedoes Roslin during a press conference by announcing that he’s running for president against her. He may have the Cylons on his side, but it’s very possible that we have yet to see the truly dangerous side of Laura Roslin.
Coolest: It’s a compelling debate about whether or not to outlaw abortion in a scenario where humanity is facing extinction and every birth takes us one step closer to survival. What would you do?
Huh?: It’s a little odd that in trying to find the two lost Raptors, everyone stays on the Pegasus sifting through paperwork like Woodward and Bernstein. Why not, like, send out a Viper search party?
Best Line: “I need to go down there. You have the conn.” – Commander Garner ceding control of Pegasus to Apollo and essentially acknowledging that he has no place at the top of the command chain.
Rising: Apollo, who may not be a weak-kneed milquetoast after all. He takes confident control of Pegasus and manages to keep the ship safe long enough for Garner to make his Wrath of Khan-style sacrifice down in engineering, killing himself but repairing the ship.
Battlestar Galactica “Sacrifice”
Cool: The discovery of a growing hotbed of wild-eyed conspiracy theorists who think the Colonial military is somehow in cahoots with the Cylons, which is a completely plausible wrinkle given the whispered rumors (and tabloid-style grainy photographs) of Adama’s meetings with Caprica-Boomer.
Cooler: It’s always good to see Colleen McMurphy-- er, Dana Delaney back on TV, here as terrorist ringleader Sesha Abinell. (Where do they come up with these names?)
Coolest: Unlike Adama and Tigh, Roslin was the only one seemingly willing to risk the consequences of not negotiating with terrorists... yet she was the only one who paid the price in losing Billy.
Best Line: “Billy, I can’t marry you.” – Dualla’s heartbreaking reply to Billy’s fumbling proposal. Once the terrorists take over the Cloud 9 bar, it’s easy to predict that Billy’s rejection must lead to a fatal sacrifice of redemption.
Rising: The writing staff, who’s cleverly employing movie clichés to form the spine of recent episodes. First we had the noir detective thriller, then the World War II-style ace pilot drama, and now a Die Hard-style hostage thriller complete with a shot of Apollo watching terrorists take over through a partially ajar door just as Bruce Willis did at Nakatomi Tower.
Falling: Starbuck, who must not have enough baggage to deal with so the writers now saddle her with the guilt of almost killing Apollo.
Cooler: It’s always good to see Colleen McMurphy-- er, Dana Delaney back on TV, here as terrorist ringleader Sesha Abinell. (Where do they come up with these names?)
Coolest: Unlike Adama and Tigh, Roslin was the only one seemingly willing to risk the consequences of not negotiating with terrorists... yet she was the only one who paid the price in losing Billy.
Best Line: “Billy, I can’t marry you.” – Dualla’s heartbreaking reply to Billy’s fumbling proposal. Once the terrorists take over the Cloud 9 bar, it’s easy to predict that Billy’s rejection must lead to a fatal sacrifice of redemption.
Rising: The writing staff, who’s cleverly employing movie clichés to form the spine of recent episodes. First we had the noir detective thriller, then the World War II-style ace pilot drama, and now a Die Hard-style hostage thriller complete with a shot of Apollo watching terrorists take over through a partially ajar door just as Bruce Willis did at Nakatomi Tower.
Falling: Starbuck, who must not have enough baggage to deal with so the writers now saddle her with the guilt of almost killing Apollo.
2.19.2006
Lost “The Long Con”
Cool: The complicated con Sawyer runs on hapless Cassidy in the flashback. She has no idea who she's dealing with.
Cooler: The suggestion that Sawyer may have had some genuine feelings stirring in his Grinchinan heart for sweet Cassidy.
Huh?: It was fun trying to figure out who was trying to make everyone think Sun had been kidnapped (was it Ana-Lucia? Jack?), but to find out it was just about Sawyer getting his hand on the guns so he could either A) tip the balance of power back to him or B) make sure people continued to hate him? That was the definition of unsatisfying. Another wasted episode.
Best Line: “I'm not a good person, Charlie. Never did a good thing in my life.” – Sawyer, explaining his world outlook and surely causing many female viewer hearts to flutter at the prospect of saving a bad boy like him.
Falling: Jack, who seems to be always angry these days. Didn’t anyone ever tell him you get more with sugar than with vinegar? Every encounter he has with another character seems designed to provoke and irritate. He couldn’t be more arrogant or brusque.
Cooler: The suggestion that Sawyer may have had some genuine feelings stirring in his Grinchinan heart for sweet Cassidy.
Huh?: It was fun trying to figure out who was trying to make everyone think Sun had been kidnapped (was it Ana-Lucia? Jack?), but to find out it was just about Sawyer getting his hand on the guns so he could either A) tip the balance of power back to him or B) make sure people continued to hate him? That was the definition of unsatisfying. Another wasted episode.
Best Line: “I'm not a good person, Charlie. Never did a good thing in my life.” – Sawyer, explaining his world outlook and surely causing many female viewer hearts to flutter at the prospect of saving a bad boy like him.
Falling: Jack, who seems to be always angry these days. Didn’t anyone ever tell him you get more with sugar than with vinegar? Every encounter he has with another character seems designed to provoke and irritate. He couldn’t be more arrogant or brusque.
2.14.2006
Battlestar Galactica “Scar”
Cool: We learn here that Vipers all come equipped with on-board cameras that allow pilots to later study dogfights. It’s chilling here to watch Starbuck analyze footage broadcast by a Viper moments before it was destroyed and the pilot lost. This dovetails nicely with the episode’s overall theme of “death becomes a learning experience.” Just as reincarnated Cylon Raiders learn from each successive death, so, too, do the Colonial pilots learn from each other’s dogfight deaths. This is great stuff.
Cooler: Another melancholic moment comes when Kat adds to the 9/11-style wall of the dead a picture of the dead Viper pilot’s girlfriend (whose name sadly no one can remember) who herself died on the 12 colonies. Her picture had been in the pilot’s bunk, but with him dead, there’s no one left to remember her. And so she’s added to the nameless masses lost in the war against the Cylons. It's grim moments like this that remind one how far this reimagined series is from the toothless, disco action-adventure of the original 1970s series.
Huh?: This episode’s flashback-heavy, non-linear structure is too confusing to add to the drama as seems intended. It’s tough to figure out when we’re in the past and when we’re in the present.
Best Line: “To BB, Jo-Jo, Reilly, Beano, Dipper, Flat Top, Chuckles, Jolly, Crashdown, Sheppard, Dash, Flyboy, Stepchild, Puppet, Fireball...” – Starbuck’s poignant toast to fallen Viper pilots, contradicting her earlier tough-guy assertion that she never remembers the names of the dead.
Rising: Kat, who’s a great foil to Starbuck, perhaps because she’s just as cocky, insubordinate, and talented in a cockpit as Starbuck.
Cooler: Another melancholic moment comes when Kat adds to the 9/11-style wall of the dead a picture of the dead Viper pilot’s girlfriend (whose name sadly no one can remember) who herself died on the 12 colonies. Her picture had been in the pilot’s bunk, but with him dead, there’s no one left to remember her. And so she’s added to the nameless masses lost in the war against the Cylons. It's grim moments like this that remind one how far this reimagined series is from the toothless, disco action-adventure of the original 1970s series.
Huh?: This episode’s flashback-heavy, non-linear structure is too confusing to add to the drama as seems intended. It’s tough to figure out when we’re in the past and when we’re in the present.
Best Line: “To BB, Jo-Jo, Reilly, Beano, Dipper, Flat Top, Chuckles, Jolly, Crashdown, Sheppard, Dash, Flyboy, Stepchild, Puppet, Fireball...” – Starbuck’s poignant toast to fallen Viper pilots, contradicting her earlier tough-guy assertion that she never remembers the names of the dead.
Rising: Kat, who’s a great foil to Starbuck, perhaps because she’s just as cocky, insubordinate, and talented in a cockpit as Starbuck.
Battlestar Galactica “Black Market”
Cool: Though the show’s producers reportedly weren’t at all happy with this episode (the in-media-res open was supposedly one way they tried to strengthen it), the detective mystery conceit works pretty well, with Apollo playing the part of a Raymond Chandler gumshoe getting in over his head in a complex criminal underworld. He even gets attacked and threatened by the bad guys (“You tell Adama to let it go”).
Cooler: Do-gooder Apollo’s realization that there are sometimes shades of moral grays. He decides to let the black market operate as a necessary evil rather than trying to stop it, knowing full well no one can ever stop the demand for such a service. Then he bravely defends that choice to newly-irritable Roslin (see “Huh?” below).
Coolest: The implication that perhaps Zarek was pulling the strings all along, manipulating Apollo into offing Phelan so he could get control of the black market ring.
Huh?: President Roslin’s seems to have gained some edge since her miraculous cancer cure in the last episode. Note here her abrupt handling of Baltar in asking/demanding his resignation. That moment is satisfying in that it’s good to see someone finally taking Baltar to the woodshed, but it doesn’t ring true for Roslin’s character.
Good Line: “It’s hard to find the moral high ground when we’re all standing in the mud.” – Black market kingpin Phelan suggesting Apollo not get too high and mighty since he’s been known to regularly visit a prostitute.
Better Line: “Did you really expect some utopian society to rise from the ashes?” – Zarek explaining to Apollo humanity’s penchant for corruption and greed.
Rising: Apollo, whose cold-blooded murder of Phelan is the kind of thing we’d expect from Starbuck, not a clean-cut goody-goody like him.
Falling: Phelan’s henchmen, who just stand there after Apollo shoots Phelan in cold blood right in front of them. What kind of bad guys are these? Is it that they’re just so stunned by Apollo’s decision that they can’t react? It seems strange that not even one of them tries to kill Apollo in revenge. They even step aside so Apollo can have a private “moment” with his hooker girlfriend Shevon. Weird.
Cooler: Do-gooder Apollo’s realization that there are sometimes shades of moral grays. He decides to let the black market operate as a necessary evil rather than trying to stop it, knowing full well no one can ever stop the demand for such a service. Then he bravely defends that choice to newly-irritable Roslin (see “Huh?” below).
Coolest: The implication that perhaps Zarek was pulling the strings all along, manipulating Apollo into offing Phelan so he could get control of the black market ring.
Huh?: President Roslin’s seems to have gained some edge since her miraculous cancer cure in the last episode. Note here her abrupt handling of Baltar in asking/demanding his resignation. That moment is satisfying in that it’s good to see someone finally taking Baltar to the woodshed, but it doesn’t ring true for Roslin’s character.
Good Line: “It’s hard to find the moral high ground when we’re all standing in the mud.” – Black market kingpin Phelan suggesting Apollo not get too high and mighty since he’s been known to regularly visit a prostitute.
Better Line: “Did you really expect some utopian society to rise from the ashes?” – Zarek explaining to Apollo humanity’s penchant for corruption and greed.
Rising: Apollo, whose cold-blooded murder of Phelan is the kind of thing we’d expect from Starbuck, not a clean-cut goody-goody like him.
Falling: Phelan’s henchmen, who just stand there after Apollo shoots Phelan in cold blood right in front of them. What kind of bad guys are these? Is it that they’re just so stunned by Apollo’s decision that they can’t react? It seems strange that not even one of them tries to kill Apollo in revenge. They even step aside so Apollo can have a private “moment” with his hooker girlfriend Shevon. Weird.
2.13.2006
Meg Ryan can be very scary
One Hollywood marketing exec ally of the Cheese Fry likes to use the adage "Sell it, don't smell it," which succinctly describes the willingness of marketing execs to do whatever it takes to get you into theaters whether the movie's good or not.
TomatoPatch.com underscores that adage with a clever trailer that sells Sleepless in Seattle as a Fatal Attraction-style thriller. Skillful editors can make anything look like... anything.
TomatoPatch.com underscores that adage with a clever trailer that sells Sleepless in Seattle as a Fatal Attraction-style thriller. Skillful editors can make anything look like... anything.
Lost “Fire and Water”
Cool: Hurley uses the term “tailies” to describe Ana Lucia’s new group of survivors (from the tail section), a term that seems to have originated in Lost internet fansites. A fun example of fandom influencing a show's writing staff.
Cooler: Sawyer gives romance advice to Hurley (“Your moment is now, hoss.”) about how to approach Libby.
Huh?: The only point to this episode seems to be to completely ostracize Charlie from the group. As admirable a goal as that may be considering how whiny and irritating Charlie can be, how the show accomplishes this is pretty bizarre what with Charlie’s religious visions and sleepwalking and his wild-eyed determination to baptize Aaron. In a show that’s over the top to begin with this, this episode was out there, man. It’s probably one of the show’s low points.
Best Line: “You hitting that?” – Ana-Lucia displaying the expected level of classiness in asking Jack about his relationship with Kate.
Falling: Locke, who’s fast losing his Zen calm and becoming really unlikable. First he gets all high and mighty with Charlie and his stash of Virgin Mary statues, taking over with an attitude very reminiscent of Jack at his most sanctimonious. And then he beats the hell out of Charlie for taking Claire’s baby. Yes, Charlie deserved rebuke, but Locke displayed an unproportional response here. Much of this is presumably driven by Charlie and Locke's shared feelings for Claire, who (alluring Aussie accent notwithstanding) is perhaps the least interesting and most dishrag-like character on the show.
Cooler: Sawyer gives romance advice to Hurley (“Your moment is now, hoss.”) about how to approach Libby.
Huh?: The only point to this episode seems to be to completely ostracize Charlie from the group. As admirable a goal as that may be considering how whiny and irritating Charlie can be, how the show accomplishes this is pretty bizarre what with Charlie’s religious visions and sleepwalking and his wild-eyed determination to baptize Aaron. In a show that’s over the top to begin with this, this episode was out there, man. It’s probably one of the show’s low points.
Best Line: “You hitting that?” – Ana-Lucia displaying the expected level of classiness in asking Jack about his relationship with Kate.
Falling: Locke, who’s fast losing his Zen calm and becoming really unlikable. First he gets all high and mighty with Charlie and his stash of Virgin Mary statues, taking over with an attitude very reminiscent of Jack at his most sanctimonious. And then he beats the hell out of Charlie for taking Claire’s baby. Yes, Charlie deserved rebuke, but Locke displayed an unproportional response here. Much of this is presumably driven by Charlie and Locke's shared feelings for Claire, who (alluring Aussie accent notwithstanding) is perhaps the least interesting and most dishrag-like character on the show.
Common sense vs. free speech
The Los Angeles Times' Gregory Rodriguez offers an interesting perspective on the recent turmoil over the Danish editorial cartoons depicting Mohammed:
MARK TWAIN once wryly observed that Americans had the great good fortune to enjoy the freedom of speech — and the good sense never to use it.
The violent protests that have erupted in the wake of the publication of cartoons lampooning the prophet Muhammad have sparked a profound debate throughout the Western world over external threats to, and internal limits on, freedom of expression. In both the United States and Europe, defenders of the newspapers that have published the cartoons have invoked the principle of freedom of speech as if it were an inviolable divine law that ought to protect them from all extremists. But the fact is, there is no such thing as free speech. Every time we open our mouths, write an article or draw a cartoon, we weigh the costs and consequences.
Because we live in an extraordinarily heterogenous society, Americans know this truth instinctively, if not consciously. Social etiquette dictates that we don't discuss religion or politics at a dinner party for fear of giving offense or inciting argument. Even before the invention of political correctness, we tended to be conscious of offending those from different backgrounds. Except for fervent racists, we generally don't share our thoughts and impressions about this or that ethnic or religious group in mixed company.
And then there's road rage. How many Angelenos have thought twice about honking at a wayward driver out of fear for their lives? While you have a right to yell obscenities at the jerk who cut you off on the freeway, you would most likely hold your tongue if you suspected the jerk would pull out a gun.
The sensibilities of newspaper editors are not all that different, although they're more concerned about losing subscribers and advertisers than their lives. Editors may think twice about the importance and newsworthiness of stories and opinions that are likely to provoke vehement reactions from ethnic, racial or religious groups in their audience. And when such articles are published, they generally receive greater editorial scrutiny and fact-checking.
Yet, despite all these self-imposed cultural checks and balances, many Americans still believe that constitutionally guaranteed freedom of speech means that they can say whatever they want, wherever they want, without incurring consequences. But the 1st Amendment doesn't protect you from an angry employer or vengeful fanatic; it simply prohibits the government from passing any law that abridges freedom of speech or of the press. And even that has its limits — libel laws, restrictions against speech that incites violence, rules against shouting "Fire!" in a crowded theater.
If you say something intemperate, politically insensitive, sexist or otherwise offensive while at work, you risk both legal and social consequences. You could lose your job or, God forbid, your multimillion-dollar endorsement contract with a large soft-drink company. Or you could get a co-worker's fist in your face. For more than a decade now, I have been writing about race, ethnicity and immigration, and as carefully as I tread, I've gotten my share of violent insults and threats from all sides.
So far, only a handful of American newspapers have chosen to publish the offending cartoons of Muhammad. It's not that we believe in freedom of speech any less than the Danes, but we are infinitely more attuned to the tensions between that freedom and the realities of a diverse society.
After all, Denmark is a remarkably homogenous country, new to the multicultural realities that immigrant nations such as the U.S. and Britain have known for years. Eighty-five percent of Danes belong to the Church of Denmark, although few attend weekly services. Muslims account for only 2% of the population. That means the Jyllands-Posten cultural editor, Flemming Rose, who commissioned the Muhammad caricatures, is the Danish poster child for a dawning reality check.
Rose says he didn't mean to offend the small, powerless Muslim minority in Denmark but instead wanted to prove his own right to publish whatever he wanted, no matter what. He was rebelling against what he considered a growing climate of self-censorship in a changing Denmark. Even after violence erupted, he told an Italian newspaper that he was happy to have started a "useful debate." But when people die, it isn't "dialogue."
In a perfect world, you and I would agree to hate what bigots say even as we defend their right to say it. In a perfect world, we'd abide by what our mothers taught us: "Sticks and stones may break your bones but words (or images) will never hurt you." But we don't live in that world, and neither do the Danes.
There is no excuse for the horrifying, extremist Muslim reaction to the Danish cartoons. But here in the West, even as we deplore belligerent victimhood in the Muslim world and defend the legal right to publish the cartoons in question, we should stop pretending that the freedom of speech is limitless.
MARK TWAIN once wryly observed that Americans had the great good fortune to enjoy the freedom of speech — and the good sense never to use it.
The violent protests that have erupted in the wake of the publication of cartoons lampooning the prophet Muhammad have sparked a profound debate throughout the Western world over external threats to, and internal limits on, freedom of expression. In both the United States and Europe, defenders of the newspapers that have published the cartoons have invoked the principle of freedom of speech as if it were an inviolable divine law that ought to protect them from all extremists. But the fact is, there is no such thing as free speech. Every time we open our mouths, write an article or draw a cartoon, we weigh the costs and consequences.
Because we live in an extraordinarily heterogenous society, Americans know this truth instinctively, if not consciously. Social etiquette dictates that we don't discuss religion or politics at a dinner party for fear of giving offense or inciting argument. Even before the invention of political correctness, we tended to be conscious of offending those from different backgrounds. Except for fervent racists, we generally don't share our thoughts and impressions about this or that ethnic or religious group in mixed company.
And then there's road rage. How many Angelenos have thought twice about honking at a wayward driver out of fear for their lives? While you have a right to yell obscenities at the jerk who cut you off on the freeway, you would most likely hold your tongue if you suspected the jerk would pull out a gun.
The sensibilities of newspaper editors are not all that different, although they're more concerned about losing subscribers and advertisers than their lives. Editors may think twice about the importance and newsworthiness of stories and opinions that are likely to provoke vehement reactions from ethnic, racial or religious groups in their audience. And when such articles are published, they generally receive greater editorial scrutiny and fact-checking.
Yet, despite all these self-imposed cultural checks and balances, many Americans still believe that constitutionally guaranteed freedom of speech means that they can say whatever they want, wherever they want, without incurring consequences. But the 1st Amendment doesn't protect you from an angry employer or vengeful fanatic; it simply prohibits the government from passing any law that abridges freedom of speech or of the press. And even that has its limits — libel laws, restrictions against speech that incites violence, rules against shouting "Fire!" in a crowded theater.
If you say something intemperate, politically insensitive, sexist or otherwise offensive while at work, you risk both legal and social consequences. You could lose your job or, God forbid, your multimillion-dollar endorsement contract with a large soft-drink company. Or you could get a co-worker's fist in your face. For more than a decade now, I have been writing about race, ethnicity and immigration, and as carefully as I tread, I've gotten my share of violent insults and threats from all sides.
So far, only a handful of American newspapers have chosen to publish the offending cartoons of Muhammad. It's not that we believe in freedom of speech any less than the Danes, but we are infinitely more attuned to the tensions between that freedom and the realities of a diverse society.
After all, Denmark is a remarkably homogenous country, new to the multicultural realities that immigrant nations such as the U.S. and Britain have known for years. Eighty-five percent of Danes belong to the Church of Denmark, although few attend weekly services. Muslims account for only 2% of the population. That means the Jyllands-Posten cultural editor, Flemming Rose, who commissioned the Muhammad caricatures, is the Danish poster child for a dawning reality check.
Rose says he didn't mean to offend the small, powerless Muslim minority in Denmark but instead wanted to prove his own right to publish whatever he wanted, no matter what. He was rebelling against what he considered a growing climate of self-censorship in a changing Denmark. Even after violence erupted, he told an Italian newspaper that he was happy to have started a "useful debate." But when people die, it isn't "dialogue."
In a perfect world, you and I would agree to hate what bigots say even as we defend their right to say it. In a perfect world, we'd abide by what our mothers taught us: "Sticks and stones may break your bones but words (or images) will never hurt you." But we don't live in that world, and neither do the Danes.
There is no excuse for the horrifying, extremist Muslim reaction to the Danish cartoons. But here in the West, even as we deplore belligerent victimhood in the Muslim world and defend the legal right to publish the cartoons in question, we should stop pretending that the freedom of speech is limitless.
2.09.2006
Battlestar Galactica “Epiphanies”
Cool: Turns out Laura Roslin was fired by the President just hours before the Cylon attack on the colonies. Does that make her ensuing emergency presidency somehow illegitimate? Discuss amongst yourselves.
Cooler: It’s a bit of cheat, perhaps, to have this last-minute rescue of Roslin with a miracle cancer cure borne of Cylon blood. Then again, it might be interesting to see how this plays out. How will she feel to be healed by the blood of the enemy? It's like a white racist soldier saved in the foxhole by a transfusion of blood from a black man.
Coolest: The show’s genius for exploring its premise from all angles is apparent again when we learn of an underground guerilla movement that demands peace with the Cylons. How exactly Royan Jahee and his followers expect to accomplish this remains unclear, of course. Extra points for Royan unwittingly working with an actual Cylon – Gina – to accomplish his pro-Cylon goals.
Huh?: How can Baltar continue to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes? Seriously. Whatever happened to his vaunted Cylon test? How can he still be faking it?
Best Line: “I will not be responsible for the destruction of mankind.” – Baltar’s greatest moment, when he seems to finally align himself with humanity... only to swing the other way and supply the Cylons with a nuclear frickin' warhead when gets his widdle feelings hurt by Roslin.
Falling: Billy – Why’d you have to give Baltar the letter from Roslin before she died. It’s her harsh words (and blatant mistrust of Baltar’s abilities to lead) that led him to give the warhead to the Cylons.
Cooler: It’s a bit of cheat, perhaps, to have this last-minute rescue of Roslin with a miracle cancer cure borne of Cylon blood. Then again, it might be interesting to see how this plays out. How will she feel to be healed by the blood of the enemy? It's like a white racist soldier saved in the foxhole by a transfusion of blood from a black man.
Coolest: The show’s genius for exploring its premise from all angles is apparent again when we learn of an underground guerilla movement that demands peace with the Cylons. How exactly Royan Jahee and his followers expect to accomplish this remains unclear, of course. Extra points for Royan unwittingly working with an actual Cylon – Gina – to accomplish his pro-Cylon goals.
Huh?: How can Baltar continue to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes? Seriously. Whatever happened to his vaunted Cylon test? How can he still be faking it?
Best Line: “I will not be responsible for the destruction of mankind.” – Baltar’s greatest moment, when he seems to finally align himself with humanity... only to swing the other way and supply the Cylons with a nuclear frickin' warhead when gets his widdle feelings hurt by Roslin.
Falling: Billy – Why’d you have to give Baltar the letter from Roslin before she died. It’s her harsh words (and blatant mistrust of Baltar’s abilities to lead) that led him to give the warhead to the Cylons.
2.08.2006
That's $66,000 a second
What’s $2 million buy you these days? About 30 seconds of TV airtime last Sunday.
The Best
1. FedEx – An instant classic. A caveman gets fired for using FedEx, even though it hasn’t been invented yet. Typical lazy-boss reaction. The spot comes with two extra jokes at the end: the caveman takes out his frustration by kicking a little dinosaur, then gets squashed himself by a big dinosaur.
2. (tie) Burger King and Hummer – These two spots are mesmerizing if only because they’re so fearlessly weird - like that deeply odd Snickers spot where a guy's called out at work for using Snickers bars for a toupee. Here, an elaborate Busby Berekley musical number with dancers wearing the ingredients of a Whopper is like a fry cook acid trip. And the disturbing union of two Japanese 60-foot-tall monster movie archetypes – the evil robot and the angry lizard – yields an unexpected baby: a red Hummer. Huh?
4. MasterCard – Dipping into 1980s nostalgia is a pretty familiar tactic at this point (the Cheese Fry thinks it heard Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” used in children's back-t0-school ads last fall), but recruiting actor Richard Dean Anderson to reprise his MacGyver personal to sell credit cards really is priceless.
5. Bud Light – There’s always a screwball beer spot and this is it: an employee’s decision to hide Bud Lights around the office turns the workplace into Lord of the Flies. Love the one guy punching holes into the drywall with his bare hands.
6. “Lost” – Another dip back into the 1980s pool, this one tweaking the lyrics to Robert Palmer’s hit so it sounds like he’s singing “Might as well face it you’re addicted to Lost.” Cheesy, yes, but it’s a clever valentine to fans of the show.
7. V for Vendetta – This buzz on this movie suggests it could be extremely kick ass. Consider yourself warned.
The Worst
1. Gillette – “Are those scientists unlocking the secrets of quantum physics with the use of a particle accelerator, colliding blue and green energy?” “No, they’re making a razor with five blades.” “...Oh.”
2. Pepsi – The continued inexplicable anthropomorphization of Pepsi products continues. First we had the New England Patriots “drafting” a Pepsi machine and now P. Diddy is turning a Pepsi can into a hip-hop star. The "brown and bubbly" tagline sounds just like the kind of thing a 55-year-old executive would think is cool and trendy.
3. ESPN Mobile – For the first few seconds, it was kind of fun to see this guy on his phone being passed on the street by all kinds of sports activities, showing us what ESPN’s new service provides. But then the commercial goes on. And goes on some more, without a trace of humor, just smug seriousness as if they were selling something important, like a five-blade razor.
The Best
1. FedEx – An instant classic. A caveman gets fired for using FedEx, even though it hasn’t been invented yet. Typical lazy-boss reaction. The spot comes with two extra jokes at the end: the caveman takes out his frustration by kicking a little dinosaur, then gets squashed himself by a big dinosaur.
2. (tie) Burger King and Hummer – These two spots are mesmerizing if only because they’re so fearlessly weird - like that deeply odd Snickers spot where a guy's called out at work for using Snickers bars for a toupee. Here, an elaborate Busby Berekley musical number with dancers wearing the ingredients of a Whopper is like a fry cook acid trip. And the disturbing union of two Japanese 60-foot-tall monster movie archetypes – the evil robot and the angry lizard – yields an unexpected baby: a red Hummer. Huh?
4. MasterCard – Dipping into 1980s nostalgia is a pretty familiar tactic at this point (the Cheese Fry thinks it heard Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” used in children's back-t0-school ads last fall), but recruiting actor Richard Dean Anderson to reprise his MacGyver personal to sell credit cards really is priceless.
5. Bud Light – There’s always a screwball beer spot and this is it: an employee’s decision to hide Bud Lights around the office turns the workplace into Lord of the Flies. Love the one guy punching holes into the drywall with his bare hands.
6. “Lost” – Another dip back into the 1980s pool, this one tweaking the lyrics to Robert Palmer’s hit so it sounds like he’s singing “Might as well face it you’re addicted to Lost.” Cheesy, yes, but it’s a clever valentine to fans of the show.
7. V for Vendetta – This buzz on this movie suggests it could be extremely kick ass. Consider yourself warned.
The Worst
1. Gillette – “Are those scientists unlocking the secrets of quantum physics with the use of a particle accelerator, colliding blue and green energy?” “No, they’re making a razor with five blades.” “...Oh.”
2. Pepsi – The continued inexplicable anthropomorphization of Pepsi products continues. First we had the New England Patriots “drafting” a Pepsi machine and now P. Diddy is turning a Pepsi can into a hip-hop star. The "brown and bubbly" tagline sounds just like the kind of thing a 55-year-old executive would think is cool and trendy.
3. ESPN Mobile – For the first few seconds, it was kind of fun to see this guy on his phone being passed on the street by all kinds of sports activities, showing us what ESPN’s new service provides. But then the commercial goes on. And goes on some more, without a trace of humor, just smug seriousness as if they were selling something important, like a five-blade razor.
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