Twilight

★★

The stars of Twilight thwart Stephanie Meyers' attempt to
take her story back.

Cards on the table - I'm a fan of the Twilight series. The books, the movies, the mass shrieking hysteria, all of it. I have a friend who chooses to pretend this piece of my personality doesn't exist, lest it cause a rift between our wonderful intellectual persons. But, friendship be damned, I get it. 

I've heard this series referred to as several things. "The story of a girl's struggle to choose between bestiality and necrophilia", Interview with the Vampire: The D-Bag Chronicles, etc. I've also heard Edward Cullen referred to as Queen of the Damned. Which, I admit, is kind of funny. But, as far as the story goes, there's a deeper meaning. Shades of Mormonism are completely founded, and the entire saga can be boiled down to a message about keeping your virginity until marriage. No matter how hot Edward Cullen is. 

And he is.

It'd be hard to talk about this film, pretending it hasn't become a bit of a cultural punchline. The boys at Mystery Science Theater 3000 even took a swing at it, to hilarious effect. But, I'll attempt to discuss this as the film that it is, and as if it stood on its own. 

As adaptations go, it isn't the most deft book-to-film translation out there. It's no Kubrick v King, but to call it a fair handle would be a stretch. Some films take artistic license, and some films take it too far. This, sadly, falls in the latter category. I'll reiterate that I'm a fan, but I'll also mention that I'm a Kristen Stewart fan and hopefully you can see the connection. I'm on Team Bella.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the story, outside of the Team Edward and Team Jacob fluff, here's the rundown. Bella (Kristen Stewart) moves to Forks, WA to live with her dad Charlie (Billy Burke). She runs into old childhood friend Jacob (Taylor Lautner) and meets a few new friends at school. Including the Cullen family. Most importantly, Edward (Robert Pattinson). He's a vampire, and he's immediately attracted to her, her to him, except that he's a vampire. So, he'll probably kill her if he stays too close and...

actually, boiled down to basic plot points, the story really is quite plain. It's all about the metaphor for Mormonism and virginity, I think. That's what has kept me interested over the last few years. 

On a technical level, the film is fairly impressive. The atmosphere of Forks, WA - the overcast, perfect place for vampires to live as they can't go out into the sun, town - is handled quite well, with the film being shot in hazy blue and grey tones. Unfortunately, the screenplay and direction halt the entire production. Near clinically insane, Catherine Hardwicke admittedly didn't put much thought into the film as she didn't think it would become such a giant success. We can see why she got fired from the sequel, can't we?

The performances are something to behold. Whether that's a positive or a negative statement is up to you. I, however, stand completely divided on the subject. I love the way Pattinson and Stewart play Edward and Bella. But, the rest of the cast, immune to criticism is Billy Burke, hams it up beyond belief. Bella's high school friends, one of whom is played by now Oscar nominee Anna Kendrick, aren't believable in the slightest, and Taylor Lautner seems like he's on peyote for most of the production. 

I think the most unfortunate thing about this film, as much as I enjoy it as a relaxer from time to time, is that even though the fans recognized that the production quality as it relates to the book is pretty damn bad, it was still a huge success. I could equate that complaint and stick it to the audiences, but I'm blaming Catherine Hardwicke for it. Mostly because I'm still not over Red Riding Hood yet. And my hatred for that film seems to consume me when this woman comes up. Oops. 

An Open Letter to Brett Ratner

"I asked for Doritos like ten minutes ago, guys..."

Dear Mr. Ratner, 

And I use the Mr. with great hesitation. 

I see your publicity stunt, and I raise you this one. And seeing as how I can guess you're the kind of man who sits at home Googling himself, in more than one sense of the word, I have no doubt you'll eventually run across this, love the attention, and carry on writing your next masterpiece. As a true auteur of Hollywood, that's just what people like yourself do. 

So, I'd like to offer you a piece of advice. Actually, several pieces. Put down the jar full of cookies and glass of whisky, sit up proper, and pay attention. 

1. Using the word "fag" in a Q&A? This isn't 1964. You can't just throw around slurs like that. If Rep. Larry Taylor (Texas, R) can't get away with saying "Don't Jew them down" to an insurance representative, even after apologizing immediately, what in the hell do you think you'd gain by waiting a few days after spitting out the word "fag" during an interview? When you are producing the Oscars? And you're the only reason Eddie Murphy was chosen? Because he hasn't been funny in about ten years? 

2. Don't do the Howard Stern show. It's a breeding ground for civil suits. 

3. If you do in fact go on the Howard Stern show, it's probably not the best idea to talk about having sex with Lindsay Lohan for a few reasons - one, she's being turned into a sex toy. way to go, player. two, you're producing the Oscars. three, apparently, she was "very young" when you two bumped uglies. Are we talking Parent Trap young or Mean Girls young? And on behalf of Olivia Munn, whom you falsely claimed to have sex with three times and then recanted a few days later kind of like your apology for saying the word fag during an interview, I'm going to imply that you Googled yourself during The Parent Trap. Multiple times. 

And I apologize for implying that Brett Ratner is, was, or will ever be a pedophile, and that he may or may not have but probably might have maybe masturbated to Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap. 

See? An apology right afterward. Should I not have said it? I shouldn't have said it. But, I did. And I can't take it back. But, I apologized immediately. My agent didn't have to bribe me with Reese's Pieces and Asian massages. 

from 16 year olds. 

God, I did it again. My b. 

4. You shouldn't be allowed to answer any questions about filmmaking after you put your name on X-Men: The Last Stand. I mean, really, dude. 

Really. 

5. And this is really more for the Academy's sake - why on Earth did you pick Brett Ratner? At least it's not too late to fire him and plead on your knees for Bill Condon and Jon Stewart?

Sincerely, I'd like to wrap this letter up with a well-wishing for Ratner. 

You've claimed many times that you don't like condoms, but that you now use them. Is it because of a certain Lohan that you apparently bagged when she was teething? Or because you've taken a page out of your own douche-book when it comes to being careful about STD's. Remember how you joked with Howard Stern recently about forcing women, or apparently, toddlers, to go to the doctor to get checked for STD's before they're graced with your noodley appendage (sorry, FSM, couldn't resist the pun)? Yeah. That's gross. 

Also, remember how you claimed publicly that a scene in New York I Love You where a kid loses his virginity in a tree was based on you? I totally believe that. It's kind of like how I had the time of my life at a dance camp in the Catskills. 

Wishing you nothing but the one girl you regrettably don't ask to get checked, 

'Scott

The Human Centipede - parts one and ew

Disclaimer - yes, these films have been given no stars. Are they the worst movies ever made? No. That honor belongs to Red Riding Hood and Pumpkin. However, are these films completely devoid of any merit, and bordering on the brink of Guantanamonian torture? Damn straight.

So, not since I was too lazy to post two separate articles for The Fighter and True Grit, I give you my second two piece review.

First Sequence - 0 stars. Why? Really?

100% Medically Made-Up

You know that series of movies that Lionsgate puts out? The "8 Films to Die For", or the off-shot "After Dark Films" series? This midnight movie wannabe sits comfortably in that zone of quality. And having seen a great handful of those films, I genuinely enjoyed two. I wish I had genuinely enjoyed this, but the lack of joy (even for his own craft) that director Tom Six - and apparently that's his actual name - injects into this experiment makes it absolutely unwatchable. I've no qualms with the darker side of independent horror. In fact, I consider it some of the best cinema around. It's the creation of neo-Grindhouse art that I so greatly appreciate. But, at least that has some joy in it. It isn't made solely to piss on its audience, nor is it made to make a point. Six, who seems to be channeling pre-Rampage Uwe Boll, takes what could have been a modern Grindhouse masterpiece and turnes it shock-theater piece of the worst kind - banal. 

Six has stated that he loves making movies that push boundaries and that pay no mind to political correctness. So, disregarding the film's World War II allegory, we'll take him at his word. Here, he has crafted a film so vile and yet so uninteresting, that he seems to not only be disregarding political correctness, but he seems to be disregarding his own mission statement - push boundaries. Do something that hasn't been done before. Be original. Two dimwitted American girls get a flat tire on their way to a club. They run through the woods and stop at a creepy German doctor's house. He poisons them and performs torturous acts. Boiled down - two teens get tortured by a crazy man. Even more boiled down - Saw, but with a pinch of Frankenweenie.

What follows past the basic plot is just as insulting to any given viewer: the cops come, people die. And, somehow, we're afforded room for a sequel? In which Tom Six promises to make this one look like My Little Pony? Okay. He's just trying to egg us on at this point, right? I hope so. What I'm hoping for in a subsequent viewing is a glimmer of tongue-in-cheek that maybe I just somehow missed this time. There's no way anyone involved could have been taking this so seriously. Except... Deiter Laser spent the entire film's production completely in character, a la Daniel Day-Lewis. And Six went so far as to apparently have a surgeon as a consultant so that the film would be "100% medically accurate", a claim that has been rightfully laughed at by anyone who has ever played Operation in their lifetime. It loses its reputation as "the sickest midnight move ever made" by showing little to no violence on camera. Attempting maybe to join the ranks of Scarface and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in Most Violent Movies of All Time, Except We Barely See Anything. The thing about those movies though is... the violence implied is frightening, and still palpable. This is just stupid. Ridiculous, and stupid.

The most frustrating thing about this movie, though, isn't the three teens making up the centipede, none of whom can act, nor is it Deiter Laser channeling the love-child of Klaus Kinski and Tommy Wiseau, nor is it the lack of passion Six seems to have for what he's doing. It's that the film really does seem to have an err of self importance. Like what its doing is necessary, rather than just needlessly repugnant on just about every human level. The film gives what it offers, if ever so slightly. And it, of course, comes complete with its own drinking game - every time Deiter Laser molests something off camera with his eyes, take a shot. So, it'll be a popular Halloween even. Count me out, though. I'd rather dig through my old VHS tapes from when I was a kid and watch that Mark Summer/Haunted Mansion movie that was on Nick.

Full Sequence - 0 stars. And here we go.

Porky's Revenge

When you're fifteen minutes into your movie, and your college thesis could be about how bad it is, you know you have a problem. When Police Academy 4 is funnier than your unintentional comedy, you know you have a problem. When the laws of physics, nature, or mankind don't apply to your film that doesn't take place in space or in the future, you know you have a problem. And when your film is directed by Tom Six, you've just wanted ten bucks. 

And you have a problem. 

Just like Tom Six does. I have a hard time digesting this man's career. I'd put career in quotes, but I like the quotes gag too much to degrade it. And his career is enough of a gag already. This man has built a cult empire on the premise that films don't actually need to hold artistic merit, nor do they need to even strictly be films, but more pastiches of everything black that can reside in a person's soul. Which is fair, and that can be considered art, I suppose. If done with artistic merit. And, pro-tip for Six - just because you say it's art, doesn't mean it isn't still The Human Centipede (Full Sequence). 

Here's a basic rundown of this film - there's a guy named Martin. He looks like a popover and is obsessed with the movie The Human Centipede. Also, he was raped by his dad as a kid, and his mother is physically and emotionally and verbally abusive. Martin finds his escape in Tom Six's "vision" (see when it works, kids?) and decides he's going to kill a bunch of people while trying to make his own 12 person-long human centipede. With a stapler. He even goes as far as to contact the star of the first film, the admittedly more-talented-than-she's-gotten-credit-for Ashlynn Yennie by telling her that she's in the running for a Tarantino film. But, in actuality (and this isn't a spoiler, merely because the poor scripting gives it away), she's in the running for head of Martin's centipede. And, one by one, Martin throws down.

And that's the movie. At least the first one had an actual plot. There's the aforementioned World War II allegories and everything. It can be talked about. This film, much like footage of a train wreck on Rotten.com, or even Two Girls One Cup, is meant only to be looked at, vomited over, and passed around like a naked picture of your hot math teacher in high school. Yes, hot math teachers do exist. Probably as some weird butterfly effect offset to balance out the existence of this film. I mean, God has to give us something, yes?

The film was banned in the UK simply because of the idea of the plot, and that it might actually happen. In public, Tom Six criticized the banning, stating that the film was art. Then, ten minutes later in a different public, drinks were on him because he got what he wanted. Which is kind of like when a sick kid coughs on a toy and then "shares it" with another kid. Mission accomplished, and Six's cooties were spread just like that. The film became a media bug zapper and once it was criticized, all he had to do was say "art" and then talk about the third one. Six's promise for the Full Sequence was to make the First Sequence look like My Little Pony. I can only imagine that the Final Sequence will make the Full Sequence look like the First Sequence, all while making me look like an amnesia patient for sitting through this cinemabortion a third go 'round. 

Yes, I'm a little bitter. 

I'd like to take a moment (just sit right there) to tell you (how I became the prince of a town called Bel-air) about some of the more... unspeakable moments in the completely uncut version. 

Deep breath. This is where it gets gross. And, yes, this is one fat spoiler.

Our villain masturbates with sandpaper. Up close and personal shots of teeth being knocked out one by one with a hammer. Peoples lips are stapled to other peoples anuses. Someone, like the first film, poops into someone's mouth. And that someone is forced to eat it, and repeat the cycle through 10 other people. Our villain wraps barbed wire around his genitalia and anally rapes a woman. Like... that doesn't even fit into the story. A woman gives birth, and then the newborn baby's skull is crushed by the gas pedal of a car. A skull is smashed in, and we see it and the aftermath, with a tire iron. After being stapled to someone's anus, someone has the foresight to rip themselves away from it. You ever have to pull a staple out of your skin (for some weird reason)? Imagine that, but it's about twenty staples and its your lips. And you're attached to some stranger's ass. 

And that's not all! 

We're also treated auditory flashbacks of child molestation! On screen blowjobs. Blood gushing gun wounds (in places where, realistically, blood really wouldn't flow like that). An actual centipede is placed in a man's rectum and he tries to fish it out. Throats are cut, hookers are shot, there's a skinhead, it's all a big mess. 

And I'll be honest - that's not even the most gruesome part. It's that the villain, Martin (Laurence R. Harvey) is practically naked for about 30% of his screen time. I'm not generally one to point out physical flaws to make a point about a movie. I generally consider that to be a cheap shot and it speaks volumes of the person writing the review. But, the goal of a horror film is to create atmosphere, right? We've all learned that together. So, part of the atmosphere is adjusting the presence of what you see on screen. The appearance, in other words. The film is shot in black and white, rightfully so. Six gets a point, there. Like, half a point. But, never mind. He shoots Harvey as the embodiment of sloth, and completely sinful. Harvey is asthmatic, blubber-laden, and sweatier than anyone has a right to be. His appearance has been adjusted with the sweat and lighting of the film, therefore, it's fair game. And seriously, Tom - you didn't have to have him be a sweaty, fat, naked loaf just for us to be uncomfortable. I mean, you crushed a baby in front of us. Think about it. 

The Room

★

ACTING.

If we're awarding stars based on sheer camp value and enjoyability, then this would have been the easiest four star review I'd ever written. But, we're not, and it isn't. Therefore, we treat this as we would any other film. 

As a critic, I think that the most important part of the job is to be able to assess a film's worth, piece by piece. That means the acting, writing, cinematography, directing, all the down the list until you hit make-up and the key grip. (pro-tip: a key grip is in charge of shadows and camera rigging, basically). Unfortunately, once you're at least 30-seconds into The Room, a now midnight masterpiece written, directed, starring, and produced by shaggy auteur Tommy Wiseau, you'll realize that even the key grip didn't show up for rehearsals. 

It's astute, really - making something so bad that it's perfect. Sometimes, movies are just plain bad. Take Pumpkin; the film that, for nine years, I championed (?) as the worst movie ever made. Or, even, this year's Red Riding Hood, which dethroned it. Barely, but damn. When I judge whether a film is truly awful, there's one factor I have to consider. Were the filmmakers actually trying? Wiseau himself claims that the film is an intentional black comedy, and that this was the reaction he was expecting. But, there have been, albeit anonymous, reports from cast members that Wiseau is genuinely a few french fries short of a Happy Meal and that this was a serious attempt at filmmaking. I don't think we'll ever know, to be perfectly honest. Consider - the original writer of The Rocky Horror Picture Show said the same thing. And look at it now. 

Our "film" centers on Johnny. He's a banker, apparently (we learn that about thirty minutes into the movie, I think). He's engaged to Lisa, who... is in computers? Or maybe she just plays on the computer, as she never leaves the apartment. But, Lisa is having an affair with Johnny's best friend Mark. Mark does nothing, even though he always tells people that he's busy. There's Lisa's mother, who has breast cancer, but is constantly told not to worry about it. There's Denny, Johnny's all but adopted weird kid neighbor who apparently sells drugs, I think maybe. And there's that one guy in the end. And that's all we know about that one guy. 

This movie, for all intents and purposes, was written on post-it notes, shredded in a moment of blissful realization, and then reassembled when the demons repossessed Wiseau's body. 

In all actually, it's hard to review a film like this. I can simply say "wtf" and leave it at that, but that almost wouldn't be fair. For a film as jaw-droppingly awful and near-blatantly infuriating, there has to be something more I could say. I could detail the film's excessive plot holes - such as the disappearance of a supporting character in the middle of a scene that is never explained. I could call it this generation's Manos: The Hands of Fate. I could denote the musical choices for the four sex scenes that take place in the same half hour. I could talk about Tommy Wiseau's nude shot. Or how Lisa is consistently called sexy and beautiful through out the film. Or how Johnny is the most. friendly. guy. ever. 

Or I could say the one positive thing I could about the film. While over the top as hell, that's pretty much what it feels like to be cheated on. They got that right. 

Everything else? Don't worry about it. 

Drive

★★★★

The Wheelman With No Name

If you watch Drive on an exterior level, you get a badass action film. A slow burning, tightly paced one, at that. But, if you watch Drive from a critical standpoint, you'll notice more than one polite tip-of-the-hat to Taxi Driver - slight turns from Martin Scorsese's directorial playbook by director Nicolas Winding Refn. Really, Drive could be viewed as a pastiche of action movies and westerns from the glory days of Hollywood. The 70's and 80's era from Hollywood, more specifically. 

Ryan Gosling has a skill - determining the darker aspects of characters that appear to be a little blank on paper. In 2001, he played a self-hating Neo-Nazi Jew in The Believer. In 2010, he was a feigning husband in Blue Valentine (I really hope you all saw that), and here, he's the wheelman with no name. He goes by "the kid", and that's barely a term of endearment from the man who took him in. He (Ryan Gosling) has a hell of a job - he's a stunt driver for the movies, by day, and a getaway driver at night. Of course, he's freelance all the way. When a producer needs a flawless car crash, he's the guy. And when a mob king needs a flawless getaway, there's nobody better. He works with a man named Shannon (Bryan Cranston) who gave him a job years before the movie (and the kid's criminal activity) started. 

He lives on his own, like any self-preserving young criminal might. But, to search his psyche is to destroy the character. He's the ultimate anti-hero - the bad guy going good. Recall Clint Eastwood's "Man With No Name" trilogy. Good, Bad, Ugly, complete with a fistful of dynamite for only a few dollars. Our story comes to a slow boil about half way through the film, when his beautiful neighbor (Carey Mulligan) takes a shine to him, and let's him into her life (slowly but surely), He gets attached to her little boy. The boy's father is released from prison, and contracted for the famous "one last job" to pay off a debt. The Kid agrees to be the getaway guy and get the father out of debt so he can be the dad he needs to be.

This isn't the film you might think it would be based on the trailer. I know people who went in expecting a Gone in 60 Seconds retread, but left disappointed because they were given something a bit slower and more thoughtful. It seems that some audiences these days just want explosions and gun fights. Well, here's a tip, this film is ultra-violent, without a single explosion or gun fight. What little action there is takes place in the last 45 minutes of the film, during which it doesn't slow down at all (kind of like the driver. get it?). Once the whole thing goes to Hell, it sets up to roost there. Albert Brooks, who steals the movie with his cold as ice and steel portrayal of movie producer turned mob boss Bernie, is the only fire in the film. He's a veteran comedian, but plays this role with the assurance of a man who has something to prove. This is among the best work of his career. Oscar? I hope so.

Lovingly, I'd call this one of the biggest sleepers of the year. Hopefully it garners the cult following that director Nicolas Winding Refn deserves, as his film Bronson seemed to. Will it be a contender for the Oscars outside of Brooks? Yes, it will. I expect big things. And we're approaching that time of year already. If you haven't heard of the film yet, and if you're a filmgoer (like this blog demands) then you will by the end of the year. I don't normally go out of my way to say this in a review, but if you're a film lover, go out of your way to spend the money and see this film. I doubt there will be another one like it any time soon. 

Real Steel

★★★

Boxing movies all have one thing in common. Especially boxing movies these days, in our generation. There's that moment of pure badassery that lets you know things just got real. The hero, our hard-boiled yet soft hearted fighter is getting beaten down, physically and emotionally, and you have every reason to believe it's over. There's no getting up off the mat, no getting out of the corner or off the ropes, and no closing those wounds. But, the motion will slow, the music will stop, and the boxer will look at his opponent and do something that you should be very afraid of. 

Smile. 

Things just got real.

That's probably in my top five movie cliches that don't actually put me off to the whole project. Real Steel, fortunately, has a moment like that. If you've seen one boxing movie, you've seen Real Steel. But, while this isn't Rocky or Cinderella Man with robots, it has the same idea. You have your rundown fighter on his last legs, trying to make it all work, while overcoming all sorts of adversity. In Real Steel, that adversity comes in the form of gambling debts and addiction, and a kid. Of course, his kid proves to be the one thing that holds him together. 

That's not a spoiler, that's a formula. Don't yell at me. 

The movie does follow a pretty strict formula. You can guess what happens, especially if you watch sports movies these days. Once Friday Night Lights came out, the rules changed quite a bit. Underdog sports movies have always been a huge seller, but now that the rule about the ending has changed, they aren't anything special anymore. It's all about "no matter whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game that counts". Which is fine, and true, and tried. But, still - surprise me again, Hollywood. I get tired of figuring out who's going to win based solely on whether the film came out before or after 2004. *shrug*

Charlie Kenton (Hugh Jackman) used to box. And he did quite well for himself. His late trainer was the father of Charlie's on-again/off-again girlfriend Baily (played beautifully by Evangeline Lily). Since his retirement from the human boxing ring, he's taken up "extreme Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots". Remember that odd Comedy Central show Battle Bots? It's a little like that, but, you know, real (!). Remote controlled robots get in the ring with each other and battle it out, sometimes, to the death. Which, to a robot, means the head is knocked off and their oil blood is spilled all over the place. Had this been a real boxing movie with this premise, an NC-17 would have been unavoidable. But, because these are robots, it's fine for the whole family. That's not even sarcasm. This is a family film. Yeah, the PG-13 rating makes sense, but I'd take my kid to it.

Which is exactly what Charlie does. He finds out this his ex-girlfriend has passed away and since he's the next of kin, he's in line to take care of his estranged little boy Max (played with gusto by Dakota Goyo). I've never seen this kid before, but he's a natural, and he's full of fire. I hope his career is long and fulfilling. Max's aunt (Hope Davis) and uncle (James Rebhorn) want custody of Max so they can buy him a new life, and agree to give Charlie custody for the summer. During which they travel around the country pitting their robot against other bigger robots and find out exactly what boding truly means.

The movie has more heart than any of the trailers would lead you to believe. Most action movies don't make me tear up during their touching scenes. But, the testament here is for the actors, specifically Hugh Jackman. He has a way of tapping into even the most ridiculous characters and making them easy to connect to. Thinking back to the days when Swordfish came out, I remember people in my school thinking it was the be all-end all action movie, and that John Travolta owned the world in a way he hadn't since Pulp Fiction. But, the surprise to me, other than Halle Berry's pointless topless shot, was Jackman's tender and genuine ability. Then we got the X-Men series and he was a star; rightfully so. He won't be getting any awards for this film, which is a bit unfortunate because he deserves recognition, but he will be able to say that he made a movie about robots that took the country completely by surprise and got an unexpected critical reception. People love it. And not just because they love him. It's a genuinely lovable movie. 

The Change-Up

★

"I don't know why we agreed to this either, Ryan!"

At seems that at least a few times a year, movies are released that test the attention span - and maturity - of their audience. I'll be the first to spoil the big surprise here - there's a projectile poop scene. And, I swear to God, the review almost writes itself. Take Jason Bateman, who seems to be one of the busier actors this year, and put him with Ryan Reynolds, who seems to be one of the busiest actors in general, and put them in a Freaky Friday rehash, and you might expect some comic gold, right? Well, your head is in the right place, but your expectations might be too darn high. What we're given instead is one of the raunchiest - for the mere sake of being raunchy - comedies I've seen in a long time. This makes Reynolds' Van Wilder seem like Elmo in Grouchland. 

And that's being kind. 

As I mentioned before, with the need to point it out again, there's a projectile poop scene. With no build up. That's how we're told what kind of movie this is - all of the intelligence of subtle comedy is thrown out the window for the chance to have a kid drop a deuce on Jason Bateman's face from across the room. The Exorcist never seemed more watchable, right? And I've never long for a Lindsay Lohan movie more than when I was watching this. Sure, the R rating for "everything under the sun" should have given the crudeness away. But, not the lack of intelligence. Nor the lack of faith in its audience. 

Our story begins with Dave (Jason Bateman) being a good guy. He's a father of three, a dutiful husband, and an excellent lawyer on the brink of the biggest corporate merger of his career. Inexplicably, his best friend is Mitch (Ryan Reynolds). A pot smoking, lecherous, struggling actor living the life of his dreams - no life at all. Our story really only begins when Dave and Mitch go to a bar to watch a game, as they haven't hung out in a while. Which makes enough sense; they're busy. Well, Dave is busy. But, never mind. They go to the bar and get far more drunk then men of their age should and Dave falls in love with Mitch's lifestyle while he listens to Mitch go on and on about the random women that he's sleeping with, including the enigmatic Tatiana. Sounds great, right? I'm not a saint, and I certainly understand the struggle of monogamous relationships - but Dave seems a bit more unhappy than he should. He avoids couples therapy with his wife and wishes for Mitch's life. Mitch, the same, wishes for Dave's life. As they pee together. In a fountain. Drunk. In public. 

They pee together in a fountain, drunk in public. 

This is our movie. There's a rolling black out, and by the time they wake up the next morning, they got their wish. Dave wakes up in his home next to his wife (Leslie Mann) and has to take care of the three children, while having Mitch's personality drive him. And Mitch wakes up, and has to go to his first big movie role as Dave. Which is the only funny thing in the film, as it's a "lorno movie". Or, a light porno for those of us not in the business. Now, I'm only a writer, but I make a decent living doing the things I do. And as bad as I want to work in film (it's the dream, yeah), even I wouldn't take a "lorno". Still, though, the scene is damn funny, mainly because Reynolds is a talented actor and mimic. 

One more thing that drives my distate in the story and film is that this is one of the films whose trailer contained all the funny moments. Trick is, the funny moments in the trailer aren't in the film. So, the film's funny content is belied to us and therefore not as funny as the trailer. Which isn't even related to the movie, in theory. There's the obvious outcome to the film where everything is set right and all is well again, as they learn to appreciate their lives. 

And they pee together in a fountain, drunk in public. 

Killer Elite

★

I guess Clive Owen saw Blitz, too. :/

It's amusing watching an actor not be able to say a line of dialogue without laughing. Sure, that might have been written into the script. But, given the intelligence and weight behind the dialogue in Killer Elite - the remake to destroy the good name of the remake - it was probably unavoidable. An example: a man describes to another man that one of the killings must look like it were unintentional. "Why?", basically. "That's why we're called 'The Feathermen'. Because our touch is... haha... light." Oh.

And this is what passes for a screenplay in 2011.

The story revolves around a book, which was actually written, and is apparently a true story. So, the trailer can get away saying that this film is based on a true story. When, in actuality, it's merely associated with a true story. That might not even be true in the first place. For all intents and purposes, this story could be as true as Fargo. But, we'll never know - the book is called The Feathermen (familiar?) and was written by Ranulph Fiennes about his experiences in the SAS (special armed services). The book was denounced by government, everything in it was denied, and it faded into nothing. Probably best, assuming that everything in the book was actually true. What we do know is that it's responsible for this film, and that's enough for me to deny everything as well. 

The film follows Danny (Jason Statham) and Hunter (Robert De Niro) as they assassinate people in 1981. We know it's 1981 only because the movie tells us so. What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a prime example of what I call "Yesterday Syndrome" in which the movie feels like it's taking place yesterday rather than its alleged time and place. There is nothing, and I mean that, that says 1981 except the title card in the beginning. And we can only assume it still takes place in the 80's one year later because, again, we're told so. Suspension of disbelief and suspension of time and space don't often go hand in hand unless you're watching a Kubrick film. 

There isn't much of a story, but rather, an idea. Hunter is Danny's mentor. Hunter is kidnapped, and even though Danny is out of the game, he has to go get him. Because that's what scraggly anti-heroes do. So, Danny goes to get him and gets wrapped up in the job Hunter didn't finish. For an Arab Sheik, assassinate three men who are responsible for his sons' deaths. But, make it look like an accident so there's nothing to trace back to anyone. Okay - that could be cool. But, it isn't. Sorry to ruin the surprise. *shrug* Danny starts killing people, and has a couple of friends come with him to help, and then they all get hunted by this guy named Spike (Clive Owen) who is assigned by the Feathermen to protect Danny's targets. And then some stuff explodes. 

That's basically it. 

I think the most disappointing thing about this film is that it comes on the heels of one of the better releases this year, also from Jason Statham - The Mechanic. In that film, Statham reclaims his right to actually be called an actor, and the film itself proves that action movies don't have to rely solely on action, nor do they have to pretend to be deep. They can be clever, ironic, and even cheeky while still maintaining a certain level of machismo that only an action movie can. It's a "guy" genre, in the same way that the Slasher movie is. Which means, it isn't. Follow me? Makes more sense than this story, anyway. The one leveling thing about Killer Elite is the fact that Clive Owen is too damn good for the film. He's a remarkable actor who manages to always rise above a lame script to deliver a performance light years beyond anyone in the cast. And when your cast includes the name "Robert De Niro", that should be impressive. 

Back in the 80's.

Don't Be Afraid of the Dark

★★★

Today's presentation is brought to you by the letters O, M, and G.

The haunted house movie is a staple in cinema. I would say modern cinema, as the genre has truly come into its own over the last twenty years or so, but that would discount far too many films from the early heyday. And as a film enthusiast of the highest order, I can't, in good conscience, do that. I've always held the beauty of a truly good haunted house film about all others. They have a way, when done correctly, of tapping into the true nature of the viewer, and raising many of the important emotional journeys a film should take you through into the forefront. Childhood fears, loss, love, abandonment, etc. A good haunted house film, and by that I point out The Others, El Orfanato, The House on Haunted Hill ('53), even Monster House to some extent, make us fearful of things that aren't there. Whatever it is that goes bump in the night, whatever it may be that causes our lights to turn off at the perfect(ly wrong) moment, whatever it is that moves something from one end of the room to another when we aren't looking. But, mostly, it's what goes bump in the night. 

They aren't pleasant films, usually. Especially in the case of Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. This film employs creepy gnome-like creatures that feed off children's teeth and collect the living to join their periodontal party. They are afraid of light, they hunt like vikings, and are small enough that they can't easily be seen. So, how do you fight them? Well, you can't, really. You can scare them away, but lights will always go out, and kids will always have teeth. In theory, it's the perfect set up. But, again, not exactly pleasant. 

Guillermo Del Toro has a beautifully twisted mind. He's able to take the most "Tim Burton"-esque sensibilities and carve them into something not alienating and "Tim Burton"-esque. And, interestingly enough, is able to do so without losing his vision as an artist, nor his culture. But that's a topic for a different article. Del Toro prodouces this film, which is a remake of the 1973 TV film of the same name. 

Our story follows young Sally (Bailee Madison) as she's shipped - for lack of a more appropriate word - to her father Alex (Guy Pearce) and his new girlfriend Kim (Katie Holmes). Alex and Kim have sunk their fortune into the creepy Blackwood Manor in hopes of remodeling and selling it for a high profit, also in hopes to kick start Alex's new business. He, as a father, is remote and distant. Calculated, almost, in the way he loves both Kim and his daughter. (notice that Kim comes first). He is self-centered in a way that no one seems to notice until his daughter starts having "episodes" and seeing things that can't possibly be real. Kim wants to be Sally's friend, first, and hopefully grow to love her as a mother might her own child. Sally wants nothing to do with either of them. It isn't until Sally stumbles across a mysterious basement filled with scary drawings and hints of things gone very wrong in the past that anyone seems to notice her as she really is. 

It's easy to dismiss a child as wondrous or sympathetic, but it's hard to take note of something that might be beyond your own adult reasoning. Such is the struggle presented in the film. If a child came to you and said "there's a man in my closet", you'll freak out, grab an ax, and go in swinging, clothes and toys be damned if they get in your way. But, if a child came to you and said "there's a swarm of tooth fairies in my closet trying to eat me", you'll medicate the kid and send them to counseling for the rest of the next twelve years. Such is another struggle of the film. Alex and Kim, mostly Alex, can't see past his own dinner party and dismisses these visions and acts of violence as a way for Sally to lash out and seek attention. 

The most distressing thing about this film, though, has nothing to do with the story. But, more so, on the technical side of things - remember back in the day when we didn't have CGI to rely on? When puppets had to be made and things had to be controlled by hand rather than BIOS? I officially miss those days. Think back to the wolf in The Never Ending Story. How half of it appeared on camera, and it was hand operated, rather than drawn in through numbers. That creature terrified me as a kid, and still makes my stomach turn even today. Watching it be killed and bleeding, knowing that in theory it wasn't just the puppet being killed, nor the character, but the man operating it. There's a strange sense of well-roundedness that comes from puppetry in movies. There's a man and his hands controlling everything you see. That's terror. Here, though the creatures are frightening, if not a little over-personified, it's CG imagery. And it takes longer than it should to get past it. 

The film is effective, though, which is all we should hope for from a horror movie. It delivers upon its promise to scare but do so in a creative way. Not too many "jump scenes", not too many brandished violins telling us when to be scared. But, it's left up to our imaginations, and the man behind the camera designing it for us. A good horror movie relies on atmosphere. And Troy Nixey has a handle on that, almost as solid as Del Toro (who co-wrote the screenplay).  And when a director can control the atmosphere, he can control the audience. Much like, dare I say it, old school puppetry. 

Midnight in Paris

★★★★

A Nebbish Jew in Paris

Woody Allen's films have always been soaked in sarcasm; even dripping with an understated sense of irony. The man has a hold on the human sexual condition, and is, at best, the consummate writer. Dating back even to the days of Take the Money and Run, Allen's keen observation on mankind's lack of a moral trust has driven his screenplays forward (thought, sometimes, right into the ground). With Midnight in Paris, he moves his characters forward and into the ground, simultaneously. There's a grimy sense of resolve to this film, that makes it seem less like a love letter and more like a middle finger, and the end of an era in Allen's career - his Euro-flavor of the decade might be wearing off. Or, at least, wearing thin. 

Gil Pender (an immaculate Owen Wilson) is an American writer trying to rediscover his voice in the midst of denial. Denial regarding his own depression, his failing engagement to the seemingly perfect Inez (Rachel McAdams), and his fledgling career as a novelist. He's worked as a screenwriter for Hollywood, at least that's how he'd say it, for quite some time now and has a feeling that's all he'll amount to. Though, there's something to be said for that. But, never mind. He's unhappy, and that's common in Allen's world. He's undersexed, and that's also fairly common. To say that the abstract version of the idea of "cheating" is a recurring theme in Woody Allen movies is to reiterate that he writes them next to a thesaurus. It is what it is, and that's enough for him. 

Midnight in Paris might be the most bitter and negative of his most recent films. Odd, pairing Match Point among the crowd, but the film flows like a long-winded backhanded compliment. There's a seething undercurrent of depreciation for France, and maybe Europe in general. Even worth noting that the realistically fictionalized characters that inhabit Gil's fictionally realistic world are American tinkers and tailors, most of those responsible for the make of culture we know today. Yes, there are those classical European poets and painters we would all recognize a mile away, but there's a sense of America in this version of Europe that can't be shaken. So much so that Europe and her makers are stereotyped and painted more broadly than Paris itself. An American's tourist perception of what these people, and these places, might be. They are accurate, as far as we know, but to those who were there, we might be just as broad a picture to them, now, as we were, then, to us. Make sense? Because that's the tone Allen takes with his audience in this picture. Hints of New York flow under the Parisian bridges, even in the way the film is designed. For the first time in Allen's Euro-genre, there's nothing European but the setting. Not even the cinematography. Even the music feels ironic. 

The film, however bitter, is a travelogue for those having never been to Paris. Mentions of Bordeaux and Giverny might not be enough for those who have fled the Eiffel to seek the refuge of their once forsaken Liberty Bell, though there's a remark in Allen's writing of this story that amuses me the most - everybody leaves but him. 

He walks the city streets at midnight (in Paris. Get it?) and stumbles across a time warp, taking him back to the 20's. He talks shop with Hemingway and Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates), he dines with Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel, he witnesses Picasso have a nervous breakdown, and meets F. Scott and the lovely Mrs. Fitzgerald. He lives a writer's wet dream, and several other writers' lives, in the span of only a few evenings. Obviously, there's no going back from that. But maybe that's what Allen has been trying to say all along? There's this time he's spent across the pond, trying to find a new voice in his career, but not matching the success he found in a different age (the golden age of film in the 70's, much like the golden age of literature and art in the 20's). It's all open to interpretation, much like fine literature and high art, but it's worth noting that Allen's films are getting more and more grim. 

In Theaters This Weekend

"You know how I know you have cancer?"

This isn't the biggest weekend for releases we could possibly hope for, and our "number one of the bunch" is fairly obvious, yeah? There's 50/50 starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen, the story of how a young man's life is changed for the better with his cancer diagnosis. We have Dream House starring Daniel Craig, Rachel Weisz, and Naomi Watts - a haunted house tale that might prove to be in the same vein as 2003's Cold Creek Manor (but, I really hope not). Then there's the weekly, obligatory romantic-comedy What's Your Number? in which which a girl does funny stuff to get a guy. It has Anna Farris in it. Finally, being released is a smaller film called Courageous - expect it to stay a smaller film, too. It's a "God Drama", in the same way that Fireproof and The Grace Card were, about four police officers who have to raise their new children in a God-honoring way. Is there box office potential in there? Well, father forgive me, for I am about to tell the truth - hell no. 

What better way to get to know our releases than to look at them individually? 

50/50. R.

What might be the best thing about a film like this is that it allows a certain kind of candor to come forth from the actors. Movies like this rely heavily on the honesty with which the material is displayed. So, being that it's pretty much a true story (taken from the screenwriter's own life experiences and then molded into a comedy for Seth Rogen), there's only so much dishonesty there can be displayed. We'll have to, as the audience, sift through what's real and what happened versus what isn't and what didn't, but it's safe to say that the story we'll see will be involving enough that we won't really give a damn. Here's hoping, anyway. Oh, and an early Oscar contender for Original Screenplay? Perhaps. This has an extremely Apatowian feel to it, and his screenplays generally get thrown into the mix come awards season.


What's Your Number? R. 

And what might be the saddest thing about a film like this is that even though this is destined for critical failure, and poised for box office slaughtering, at least thirty more of these movies will be made before the year's end. And the closer we get to the holiday season, at least half of those will be holiday themed, which guarantees they'll make a profit. I Don't Know How She Does It has blissfully faded into white noise, but Sarah Jessica Parker isn't as popular outside of the HBO crowd as Anna Farris is. Farris is like that funny girl in high school we all wanted to date and be friends with. And, granted, I do believe she's one of the funniest women in Hollywood. But her appeal carries her movies moreso than the movies she's in carry her.


Dream House. PG-13. 

Maybe less Cold Creek Manor than The Others, maybe more The Abandoned than we realize (but that's more than all right by me!) Maybe a little bit What Lies Beneath, too. Which, again, certainly cool in my books. Still, though - this trailer tells us everything we need to know going in, and most things we shouldn't know until maybe then end of the movie. And maybe you've realized that the key word to this paragraph and description is "maybe". And maybe that's because this whole project is one giant "maybe". Maybe it will suck, maybe it will be brilliant, maybe it will take the number one spot in the box office away from 50/50 or The Lion King. Maybe no one will see it. Maybe I will. Yeah, I will. There's no maybe there. I think it looks great. Another showcase for Daniel Craig, and another reason to stare at Rachel Weisz for two hours.


Courageous. PG-13. 

See, this is what sucks about these movies - and yes, I am a Christian. So, I'm more than allowed to say what I'm about to say. They keep getting better and better, but the producers are assuming one of two things first, they seem to be assuming that just because these movies are about God and holy values, that people will go see them. Or second, they think that if they shove this stuff down enough throats people will eventually go see them because they feel they have to. Like church. If you guilt them, they will come. That's the suckiest thing about projects like this. The films themselves are hardly ever bad. Even in the case of Fireproof (which is one of the most unintentionally funny movies of that year) it had some good moments. So did The Grace Card. This movie actually looks damn decent. But, too God-heavy for the common movie goer. That doesn't live in the south. Go figure.


What are you seeing this weekend? Did I miss something? Let me know in the comments section. Sound off! Enjoy your weekend! 

Captain America: The First Avenger

★★★

Cool  guys don't look at explosions.

It’s refreshing to see a film so inspired by its own patriotism. It’s also refreshing to see a film series such as these “Avenger” films that keep getting it right. Of course, they can’t all be perfect (insert Iron Man 2 jab here), but the series has what it needs; in spades. I read a few of the Avengers comics growing up, so I was a bit familiar with the story lines. However, I never knew too much of the mythology behind Captain America. I knew he was a World War II hero and he was the result of a science experiment gone right. He was the ultimate soldier, and he stood for truth, justice, and the American way. Essentially, he was Marvel’s answer to DC’s Superman. And cooler, to boot. But that’s beside the point. Captain America, for me, always held that feeling of what it meant to be American - standing up for what’s right, despite all costs. And that’s the feeling I was left with when this film ended. I was proud to be an American.

I also remember watching, in my youth, the first Captain America film. In my review for The Green Hornet, I noted that that’s the kind of film that makes me question the frailty of the genre. However, and thankfully, 2011’s Captain America - subtitled ‘The First Avenger’ - corrects the many vulgar mistakes of that film. I saw it as a kid, and even then I thought to myself “this is crap!”. There is one thing I took from it, though - the design of “Red Skull”, the film’s villainous Nazi commander. Rough, gritty, and ugly. Exactly what it should have been. Adult, and monstrous. The only thing missing from it was the performance behind the mask.

Captain America is really Steve Rogers (Chris Evans); a small, by all definition, kid determined to serve his country and make his father proud. His best bud Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan) tries to protect him and keep him safe, but eventually - at the local fair - Steve enlists again and is accepted. He doesn’t do as well as the other boys. He’s about 100 pounds soaking wet, 5’7”, and shy. He’s brave, though; when he thinks a grenade is about to blow up his squad, he jumps on it without a second thought. He’s the soldier who might make Dr. Erskine’s (Stanley Tucci), Howard Stark’s (Dominic Cooper), and Col. Phillips’ (Tommy Lee Jones) project complete. They have a serum, and all they need is a subject. Rogers is recruited, and turned into the unstoppable American hero - and he’s exactly what we would have needed at the time.

There is a neat twist in the movie’s mythology of the Captain America world. Director Joe Johnston slides in a wonderfully tongue-in-cheek montage of kids in the 40’s reading Captain America comic books and watching the Captain America movies. It’s a neat way to further connect the Avengers series with the real world, and loop the film around its own form of dirty truth. Note - dirty truth doesn’t necessarily mean that this origin tale is one of those “tell all, re-invent the wheel” movies. It’s just gritty for its own reality. There is war, and there are brave men dying for their countries.

Where the movie spends itself out, however, is the second side to the story. Red Skull is really Johan Schmidt (Hugo Weaving), and tried to get Erskine to give him his serum. Of course, like most mad villains do, he injects himself with the potion and becomes evil. Now he wants to usurp Hitler and take over the world for himself. The film seems less concerned with the design of Red Skull, almost as if banking on the fact that people still hate (or don’t remember) the visual forcefulness of him from the first film. And Hugo Weaving’s portrayal suggests he’s seen Inglourious Basterds several times.

Where the film doesn’t spend itself out, however, are the other performances. Mainly, in all areas, it’s wonderfully put together. There’s a touching conclusion to a mostly dramatic script, but even in the drama there are hilarious one-liners and fully fleshed out characters. Being a superhero movie, it is effects laden. For the first twenty minutes or so, Chris Evans is CGI’d into the body of a small weakling. And it’s completely seamless. There are loud action sequences, but it’s important to note that the film isn’t just action and noise. There’s a love story that’s fully believable, there’s the sequel set-up, there are excellent performances, and a smart screenplay fueling that action. Marvel knows that there really isn’t another way to do these movies. They have the formula down to a science.

Contagion

★★★★

Come on, seven. Daddy needs a new immune system.

Contagion (n): the communication of disease from one person to another by close contact. 

There isn't much to that definition, but the word itself holds weight - you touch your face, and then touch a doorknob without even realizing it. Seven thousand other hands touch that doorknob, and then touch their faces. Which then kiss their dogs, children, lovers, wives, husbands, and so on and so forth. Without even meaning to, we touch each other hundreds of thousands of times per day. Not just one person to another one person, but one person to all other people, be it through handshakes, hugs, or doorknobs. And the most fascinating thing about Contagion are the subtle points of contact that aren't even noted in the film. 

The film itself starts with a simple illness. Simple, but with devastating effects - essentially, the immune system is crashed and destroyed, and the brain made entirely useless. It is fatal, if you're lucky (it seems). The first victim we see in the film is a married woman from Minneapolis (Gwenyth Paltrow) after her affair with a man in Chicago on her way home from Hong Kong. She coughs. And after a bartender has handled her money, we already know that the virus is spreading. And the title card on the screen says "Day 2". These aren't the first people to be sick, nor will they be the last (mostly because we need a movie, never mind the virus spreading at lightening speed). 

Contagion is, at its core, a thriller and is appropriately marketed as such. What kind of thriller it is could be a debate for an entirely different article, but at the heart of it all, you could call it a techno-thriller like Roger Ebert does - there are technical patterns that lump it into the genre, sure. Title cards displaying the times and places of the day, as such. The cheating woman's husband Mitch (Matt Damon) is immune to the virus - his fate is to watch the ones he loves around him contract it. Alan Krumwiede (Jude Law) is a blogger spreading his fear and propaganda like a virus itself, to millions of "unique followers" of his website. 

One more hint to fully unlocking the film and understanding it beneath a surface level is that "contagion" isn't strictly meant to describe the influence(za?) of the disease, but the contagion of the emotional effect on the main characters, and how that spreads. Mitch, learning that his wife may have had an affair when she caught the virus, Alan spreading his own seething virus over the internet and television... And then there are the doctors - Cheever (Lawrence Fishburne), who heads a department at the Center for Disease Control and is working on developing a vaccine with Dr. Hextall (Jennifer Ehle). Dr. Erin Mears (Kate Winslet) is assigned out into the field to track down the last point of contact that bystanders might have had with recent victims, and Dr. Leonora Orantes (Marion Cotillard) tackles the field like guerrilla warfare, using security cameras and investigative research to track the moment the virus was first spread from person to person, in a casino, in Hong Kong, with Mitch's wife. 

Contagion gets under your skin (!) and never lets go of your nerves. It's a horror film, if you look at it from the right angle. Medical thrillers, legal thrillers, they all have one thing in common with horror movies - that obsessive hunt. Here, it isn't just a hunt but a race, and not even a race against the clock, but a race against our bodies. Cities are torn down by this virus in less than a year, millions of people are dead half way through the film, and yet Steven Soderbergh's scale of the film is so miniature and personal, that we can barely contain that knowledge at the sake of the four people we're supposed to care about when they keep touching doorknobs. The film operates on the ends of its given spectrum - small and calculated personal stories of survival matching with uncontrollable epidemy and fear. The contagion isn't just in the virus itself, but the footprints its leaves as it marches from host to host. 

In Theaters This Weekend

"I don't survive"

Three new films of note for the weekend. Well, two of them are of note. One is . . . well, it's a movie produced by Adam Sandler. So there you go.

Bucky Larson: Born to be a Star. R.

Being friends with Adam Sandler apparently has its benefits. I like Nick Swarsdon, but this film just looks awful. Awful. Don't care.

Warrior. R.

Rocky for MMA fighters? I know next to nothing about it, and that's exactly how I like going into some movies sometimes. I hear the acting, especially by Tom Hardy is great, and that the film has more heart than the subject matter would lead you to believe. I'm really looking forward to seeing what the hoopla is all about.






Contagion. PG-13.

I can't even make up any jokes about this film (aside from the one surrounding the fact that we see Gwyneth Paltrow dying in the film's trailer, of course). Sure, it seems like an Outbreak rehash, but it looks even better (and I love me some Outbreak). How can you go wrong with a film starring Matt Damon, Kate Winslet, Laurence Fishburne, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jude Law, Bryan Cranston, John Hawkes, etc., etc.? You can't. This movie is going to MELT FACES. Or at least just make them bleed from infection.

So what say you, faithful readers? Are you seeing one of these films this weekend? Yes, it's the 10th Anniversary of 9/11 this weekend, so of course pay your respects. Then go see a movie! What's more 'Merican than seein' a movie?

The Beaver, Win Win, TrollHunter, and Others on DVD Tomorrow

"What're you looking at, Sugar Tits?"

By Josh Amato

One day, our children will take off their Netflix Instant Viewing Googles and ask "Mommy . . . Daddy . . . what's a DVD?" It's the kind of question that you cringe upon hearing, hoping it was going to come when the kid was older. Your mind will scramble as you figure out where to start. VHS, LaserDisc, DVD, Blu-Ray . . . it's all so confusing. So first, you think of some examples of which films were on DVD.

You probably won't be using the following DVD releases as examples, but I just needed a segue that wasn't 100% crap (I usually settle for 90%).

The Beaver - Directed by Jodie Foster, this film was supposed to be Mel Gibson's street cred comeback, complete with a hot script and a humble, but showy, performance from Mad Max himself. Then some audio tapes were released with Mel ranting about blowjobs and burning down houses. Oh, and toss a handful of racial slurs in. This pretty much killed the film's chances in theaters, so here it is on DVD.

I haven't seen it yet, but I hear Gibson gives a FANTASTIC performance. So if you're a fan of the man and can put aside his personal life from his art, I'd say give it a chance. For FREEEEEEEDOMMMMMMM!!!!!!

(Also available on Blu-ray)

Win Win - Next up is the feel good indie of the year starring Paul Blart, sorry, Giamatti as a part-time wrestling coach. I haven't seen the film yet but it comes across as a white version of The Blind Side. Well, that film was pretty white, actually. Just take the big black guy everyone is using to excuse their white guilt and replace him with a troubled young teen. I only understand commentary that is in my face, so this is beyond me.

Anyway, haven't seen it but the reviews are great and writer/director Thomas McCarthy has an excellent track record so far.

(Also available on Blu-ray)

Pom Wonderful Presents: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold - Oh, man! Look out Corporate America, Morgan Spurlock is at it again! This time he's taking on brand names, advertising, and product placement. All while getting all of these companies to actually FUND the film by having it advertise for them. See what Spurlock did there? Shit's crazy.

(Also available on Blu-ray)

TrollHunter - The last good Troll movie was probably Troll 2. And given the massive critical and box-office success that film was, it's hard to see why they wouldn't have made Trolls 3-7. But we're just talking fiction with those films. TrollHunter is a real-life documentary, following a crew of filmmakers as they are investigating bear attacks. Things take a turn for the worst when they come across a real life giant troll. What? You didn't know trolls existed? Idiot.

(Also available on Blu-Ray)

So what say you, loyal readers? Have you seen any of these films? If not, are you considering renting any of them? All these answers and more can be posted in the comment section. And if you just feel like saying hi, well go ahead! Don't be shy. We won't bite (we're gentle nibblers).

In Theaters This Weekend

Hey guys, Josh Amato here and "In Theaters This Weekend" just got a whole lot fatter. Don't worry, I don't blog with my mouth full.

This weekend we're looking at FOUR new wide releases going up against The Help, a film that is destined to be the box-office champ of the bunch despite being in its second week of release. That's right, Conan The Barbarian will take a 3D swing at the competition, Fright Night will bare its fangs, Spy Kids will . . . spy. In 4D. And One Day will . . . wow, I'm really bad at this.


Conan the Barbarian. R.

The first remake of the weekend is also the first remake of an iconic Arnold Schwarzenegger role, with Jason Momoa stepping into some pretty big shoes. The trouble with this film right off the bat is that it's hard to imagine anyone but Arnold in the role. I don't know about you, but this film just screams RENTAL to me.



Spy Kids: All the Time in the World 4D. PG.

Besides the fantastic title, this fourth installment in the legendary Spy Kids series just has so much to off-- I can't do it. I just can't keep a straight face. It's a SPY KIDS movie, people, so that means it's just a way for Robert Rodriguez to make some quick cash to make his next film. I'm OK with that, actually.



Fright Night. R.

The second remake being released this weekend. The original 26 year old Fright Night is sort of a genre classic, but it's not entirely untouchable. Word on the street is that the film is a worthy re-do. Being a horror film buff, I'm actually excited for this one. Expect a review from either Scott or myself within the next couple of days.


One Day. PG-13.

I actually didn't know anything about this film except that it apparently stars Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess and is about people who went on a date and then Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.


Sorry. Dozed off a bit there. Anyway, what will you be seeing this weekend? Anything? If you answered 'no', you're lying unless you're blind. And if you're blind, how are you reading this? Feel free to answer all of these questions in the Comments section.

In Theaters This Weekend

The Stepford Maids

"In Theaters This Weekend" is back! Of course, it really never left, but... there was time off and whatever. It's here, so we might as well get it started! 

Rolling into the cinemas tomorrow, four movies that will probably be fairly divided in numbers - The Help, Final Destination 5 (5nal Destination?), Glee 3D (Gl3 D?), and 30 Minutes or Less. I'm thinking that it's between 5nal Destination and 30 Minutes or Less for the top spot; probably the former. But, we'll have to wait and find out. We'll know Sunday for sure, probably by Friday night. 

Personally, I was getting a bit annoyed with the constant churning out of the Final Destination films. But, this one takes an interesting twist. The kids figure out that they can cheat death even further by putting other people in the way when Death comes for them. So, we get a lot of violent accidents and murders, AND murders caused by other people trying to avoid violent accidents. Could prove to be pretty interesting. Of course, they might completely mess it up. But, time will tell. 

Final Destination 5. R.

Ehhhhhh. This really could be awful. But, I'm siding with the people who think it might be kind of awesome. It very well could be! The idea behind it is kind of interesting, even if the series has gone straight down hill after the opening scene of Final Destination 2 (Final Des2nation?). Even with 4nal Destination (... ana... never mind.), there were interesting ideas at work. However, knowing that the series has become something of a "slasher/torture porn" saga, maybe this is the breath of fresh air the series needs. The tone is a bit more malicious now, more than "survivalist" bouncing between 'dead teenagers'. Still, there is a very real possibility that this could flat out suck. I'm going to try and be optimistic, though.

whatever. this might blow. 50/50. We'll find out tomorrow!


The Help. PG-13. 

If you've never seen the wonderful Corrina, Corrina with Ray Liotta and Whoopi Goldberg, do so immediately. Preferably before seeing this. Of course, The Help sets itself up to be as wonderful as it possibly could be, especially with that cast. Emma Stone's career has skyrocketed past where most of us thought it would be four years ago, and Easy A proved that she's a genuinely talented actress. She has a huge talent and I'm glad she's surrounded by proven actresses like Viola Davis and Bryce Dallas Howard in this film - she's only going to get better the more she puts herself around talent of that caliber.


Glee: The 3D Concert Movie. PG. 

Honestly, it's Glee. That's really all I can say. I'm a total Gleek. Normally, I'm not one for concert films, and I'm sure this won't be the next Rattle & Hum, but... you know, it's Glee. I'm down.


30 Minutes or Less. R. 

I'm so glad Jesse Eisenberg has a substantial career. Yes, this is a huge departure from The Social Network, and, well... Rio. But, from the makers of Zombieland, he must be doing something right. And Danny McBride gets my money without question. Yes, Your Highness was horrendous and completely misguided, but McBride has a gift that can't really be denied. He's absolutely hysterical, and has the best comic timing in the business. Even in something as small as Fanboys, McBride steals the whole film. With only a couple of scenes, and only a few lines in them. Thank God David Gordon Green gave him a career. Otherwise, film would be losing a little bit of goodness. Still, this will probably be the top taker. Or the standard "number 1 comedy in the nation!" second place announcement. Hopefully not, but... we'll see.


That's it! Let me know what you guys will be seeing, and if you see one before I do, let me know what you think!