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By shimes, June 4, 2010 7:43 am

We're going to be the most gorgeous couple in rehab after this whole vampire fad blows over.

July 2^nd

The Last Airbender:  It looks like the Slumdog Millionaire guy does battle with a bald kid wearing a burlap hooded robe doing a Darth Maul impersonation with a kendo stick in a circle of candles.  M. Night Shyamalan tries to shed the “Twist Ending Guy Who Made a Great Movie Twelve Years Ago, But Has Only Done Crap Since” rap and remake his career as the director who…I don’t know, made a movie that looks a lot like Bulletproof Monk without Stifler?  Well, whatever we might say about Night (though nobody’s tossing this around anymore, are they?), he doesn’t make lazy movies.  Night believes he’s a great filmmaker, even if his ideas are half-baked Manicheaism wrapped around pseudo-profound modern mysticism.–Steve

Twelve:  Crap-teur Joel Schumacher heads to the Upper East Side for this Gossip Girly caution tale about a drug deal gone wrong.  Chase Crawford and Rory Caulkin are the rich white kids, 50 Cent deals them the drugs, and Emma Roberts tries to prove she’s Anne Hathaway by starring in cute tweener flicks, then skanking out to show that she’s a real actress.  It got hooted out of Sundance, but Ebert liked it, so there’s that.  An interesting alternative to…     –Steve

The Twilight Saga: Eclipse:   There’s plenty of things to hate on about the adaptations of Stephanie Meyers’ Mormon-infused retooling of the vampire mythology.  For instance, the absurd notion of making “nice” vampires who don’t have to suck the blood of their victims, which undermines the dangerous seductiveness of the entire vampire concept.  But there is also plenty to like: the appeal of the main performers (despite Kristin Stewart’s lockjaw) and the really impressive and distinctive visual style of each film—a believable portrait of small towns painted on an angst-dripping canvas, which makes this ridiculous story palatable.  I am sure this makes me a complete “tweener” ripe for your criticism. But standing in line for opening night (with my girlfriend, in case you were wondering), I felt like I was waiting for an estrogen-fueled version of “Star Wars”, suggesting a pop culture phenomenon deserving of examination rather than derision. Regardless, the new version features a blown-out war between vampires and werewolves (which sort of sounds like the unfortunate “Underworld” series) where Bella (Stewart) has to make that ultimate choice between Team Edward (embodied by emo-dreamy Robert Pattinson) and Team Jacob (embodied by the dreamy dud Taylor Lautner). Hey, that sounds like “New Moon” on a larger scale.–James

July 9^th

Despicable Me:  An animated movie about the only guy in the ‘burbs with a dead lawn (Steve Carrell) who is going to attempt to steal the moon with equipment stashed in his underground lair.  Three orphans take kindly to this weirdo (probably because they’re the only ones whose property values he’s not destroying) and a crisis of conscience ensues.  This is the first offering from NBC/Universal’s new animation branch, which is headed by the former president of Fox Animation Studios.  This probably explains why the teaser trailer feels like the wordless teaser trailers with Scrat from Ice Age.  The voice cast is pretty impressive—not only James’ favorite Russell Brand, but the ubiquitous presences of Kristin Wiig and Ken Jeong, and Danny McBride, Will “Gob Bluth” Arnett, and Kenneth the Page and Mindy from “The Office” as “Tourist Parents.”–Steve

Predators: I am not totally 100% sure what producer/developer Robert Rodriguez is going for in this remake/sequel (that line is becoming so much harder to distinguish this days) where Oscar-winner Adrian Brody (?!) and Topher Grace (????!!!!) take the place of sensitive skinny boys like Arnold Schwarzenneggar and Jesse “The Mind of the 9/11 Conspiracy Theory” Ventura. But throw Danny Trejo and Alice Braga into the mix and I’m in. This time, it appears that the typical group of ragtag mercenaries is tracked by at least more than one Predator. I mean, I can only guess that from the “s” at the end of the title.  Sadly, the alien won’t be here to follow the continuity of “Alien vs. Predator: Requiem.” Which is too bad. Really. I mean I saw it and you didn’t, so you don’t really know, do you?.–James

July 16^th

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice: When the IRS comes a knockin’, it’s time to head back to the Jerry Bruckheimer teat for Nicolas Cage.  Yes, Cage has reteamed with the director of the “National Treasure” films (which easily ripped the lid off the whole Masons-really-run-the-country conspiracy) to do some sort of grand adventure that is really just trying to capitalize off of “Harry Potter” in some form or fashion. Specifically, Cage has to fight Alfred Molina and somehow must recruit Jay Baruchel in order for to really harness the power of good in order to defeat evil. Uh…did you see “She’s out of My League”? Yeah, me neither. But if buying a ticket for this gets Cage to work with Werner Herzog again for another “Bad Lieutenant” movie, then I will take five adult tickets, please.–James

Inception:  “What’s the most resilient parasite?  An idea.  A single idea from the human mind can build cities.  An idea can transform the world and rewrite all the rules.”  Look, I trust Christopher Nolan (the Batman films, Memento, Insomnia), but shouldn’t he have called for a rewrite?  Building cities, transforming the world, and rewriting the world doesn’t sound like parasitic behavior.  I get that the science-fictioniness of the movie is that an idea is like a living organism, but I still don’t get the parasite thing.  I also think Leo is underrated, but he seems very close to stepping off of Serious Actor Cliff and landing in Pretentious Schlock Ravine.–Steve    

July 23^rd

Salt:  Agent Jolie flips out when a Russian gangster accuses her of being a Russian spy, so she goes rogue to prove her innocence to Important Guy Standing Behind a Computer Bank Looking at a Huge Screen Liev Scribner.  Salt colors her hair and starts kicking ass, as if Valerie Plame morphed into Lara Croft.  I guess that puts Scribner in the George Tenant role…anyway, Salt looks rather inconsequential, a return to The Saint and Clear and Present Danger movies for Phillip Noyce, after a series of somewhat successful serious films (Rabbit Proof Fence, The Quiet American, and Catch a Fire).  Perhaps this is the one for “them” before he does one for himself again.–Steve

Dinner for Schmucks:  The director of the Austin Powers and Meet the Parents movies brings us a Trading Places-like scenario with Paul Rudd as the handsome rich guy and Steve Carrell as the loser.  Well, at first it seems like Trading Places, but John Landis’ movie was about class, race, and elitism.  It was Wall Street as a comedy.  This movie, however, seems to be about making fun of weirdos.  In fact, that’s what the whole purpose of the Dinner for Schmucks.  Am I missing the point?–Steve   

Ramona and Beezus:  Beverly Cleary’s books describe the complex and difficult relationship issues children deal with as they grow from elementary school to teenagers.  This movie features a Disney-manufactured Selena Gomez telling her little sister that she’s “her own person.”–Steve    

July 30^th

Charlie St. Cloud:  Burr Steers directs this adaptation of a Ben Sherwood novel that looks like it has a Sparksian sappiness (Playing catch with his little brother?  He gets killed on his way to the ballgame?).  Still, Steers directed a very good movie about a Northeast old money kid dealing with messed up family issues in Igby Goes Down, so there’s hope here.  Also, I’m cheering for Zac Efron for the reasons outlined in my review of Me and Orson Welles, his first “serious” film.  We’ve already confirmed that Miley is a bust, but Zac still has a fighting chance.  Even though it looks awful, I’ll give it a chance.–Steve 

Beastly:  A teenage American Psycho meets Dorian Gray who then runs into Beauty and the Beast.  The telling moment of the trailer is at the 2:04 mark when Neil Patrick Harris fake vomits in his mouth after Alex Pettyfer says something about making something beautiful from something ugly.  Or something like that.  Anyway, when the trailer gives you the impression that the film is aware of its own banality, perhaps that’s a red flag.–Steve

Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore:  This might be pretty awesome if Kitty Galore is actually Mr. Bigglesworth playing Dr. Evil, perhaps some sort of Bond parody?  If anybody gets stuck taking the kids, email me and let me know.  Apparently I’m going to be at the Zac Efron movie that weekend (see above).–Steve

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By shimes, June 1, 2010 7:00 pm

Hollywood has said the same thing, Sly.

August 6^th

The Other Guys: After “Step-Brothers”, I am pretty sure I would never want to sit through another Will Ferrell/Adam McKay teaming. How do you lose your nerve after making two of the most perfectly absurd comedy blockbusters of the past ten years with “Anchorman” and “Talladega Nights”?  But “Step Brothers” celebrated arrested development in a way that would make Adam Sandler blush and seemed to show that these two guys had nothing else in the tank. However, the idea of Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg playing a detective pair who becomes obsessed with being just like another duo played by Samuel L. Jackson and Dwayne Johnson is too good to pass up. Plus, could this be the Michael Keaton comeback we’ve been hoping for since the disappointment of “Herbie: Fully Loaded”? Yes, probably.–James  

Step Up 3-D: Nothing says “awkward white guy” like sitting through the trailer for this very “urban” flick and yelling out, “That looks cooler than ‘Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo”! Yes, I really said that. But here’s a film that has no trouble telling you what it is with the title: Another dance competition where some talented youngster has to “step up”. This time, the studio gets to gouge you for another two bucks just so you can watch “mad hands” and animated squiggly lines come right off the screen. Rest assured everyone will learn about life, love, and wicked skills by the end of this mess.–James

August 13^th

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: Edgar Wright gets away from Simon Pegg and Nick Frost to adapt this comic-book epic about a young man (Michael Cera) who falls for a woman (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) only to learn he has to fight off all seven of her ex-boyfriends to win her heart. Expect lots of cool music, enough pop-cultures references to make Wright’s girlfriend Diablo Cody’s head spin, and lots of fast editing that simluates the paneling of the graphic novel. But don’t expect Wright to treat any of those things with the least bit of awe and wonder. There’ll be enough cynicism and snarkiness to be cool, but enough heart and depth to make the film a nifty little classic. Don’t give up on Cera…yet.–James 

The Expendables: Sylvester Stallone gets behind the camera again and—you can say whatever you want about the unhinged rebooting of “Rambo”—he always has some interesting ideas rolling around the seemingly thick skull of his. This time, he assembles a ragtag group of mercenaries (presumably not the same one from “Predators”) that includes Jason Statham, Jet Li, and Dolph Lundgren to overthrow a ruthless South American dictator (Please let it be a Hugo Chavez stand-in!). Of course, things don’t go as planned and all sorts of double-crossing and back-stabbing commence, all of which involves Eric Roberts and “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. Certainly Stallone will make a compelling flick with a dash of odd-ball international politics involved, the real trick will be figuring out how Bruce Willis and Ah-huld fit into all of this. They’re pretty prominent in the trailer but not so much on the cast sheet. Surely Stallone isn’t harboring some sort of mid-80’s Planet Hollywood resentment in an early plot rub-out. Or…is he?–James 

Eat Pray Love:  Into the Wild for bored housewives.  Privileged American white woman goes on a journey to exotic lands to “work on herself” and “let the universe in” and be enlightened by Indian yoga and be moved spiritually by pasta.  To be fair, Elizabeth Gilbert is an engaging writer, even if her journey seems too self-conscious and, frankly, made up.  The problem here is that the funny and reflective Gilbert simply cannot be embodied by the sassy and angry Julia Roberts.  There is nothing about Julia Roberts that was, is, or ever will say “meditation.”  A classic casting misstep: assuming that if you throw a hit book at a megastar, it has to work.  See Hanks, Tom.–Steve

August 20^th

Takers:  A cavalcade of former “it” guys thrown into a heist movie for no real discernible reason.  Or have you been clamoring for Paul Walker, Jay Hernandez, or Hayden Christensen since, oh, 2002?  Mix in some rappers and Matt Dillon as The Detective, and you’ve got yourself a $3 million dollar late August opening weekend.–Steve

Nanny McPhee Returns:  Oh, does she now?  There’s a lot of talent in this movie that’s boxing below their weight:  Oscar winner Emma Thompson as the crusty old nanny who acts mostly with a mole and a tooth, Dame Maggie Smith as her agent (she-pimp?), Maggie Gyllenhaal and Ewan McGregor as English pig farmers with a litter of kids, Ralph Fiennes as some sort of official-type person, and Rhys Ifans as “Uncle Phil.”  Then again, Mr. Magorium and his assistant have eight Oscar nomination and a slew of BAFTAs between them.–Steve   

The Switch:  This could be interesting.  Jennifer Aniston is getting a sperm donor; Jason Bateman is the best friend who can’t figure out why he’s not the one.  After a few too many at her “I’m Getting Pregnant!” party, Bateman switches the sperm cups…or does he?  This could land in annoying quirky rom-com territory, but there’s some top-shelf quirk here: not only Bateman, but Jeff Goldblum, Juliette Lewis, and Todd Luiso.  If Michael Cera were playing the wacky nephew, I’d be all-in.–Steve

Lottery Ticket:  Perhaps a PG riff on this Chappelle sketch (“I bought this whole truck of Kools!”).  I like Lil Bow Wow.  Roll Bounce is a very charming, if inconsequential, movie, largely on the likeability of its lead.  Here, Bow Wow wins the lottery, and the whole neighborhood wants a piece.  Looks like a wacky ensemble comedy for name-brand character actors like Mike Epps, Bill Bellamy, and Charlie Murphy—wait, did this movie get big-timed by Nick Cannon?!   Ice Cube appears to be cast as the elder statesman of the group, which begs the question:  Is Chi McBride busy?–Steve 

August 27^th

Piranha 3-D: If nothing will turn you off to the 3-D phenomenon (which is never going to work as long as the technology is being tacked on in post-production), then give Alexander Aja’s take on the schlocky horror classic. Aja started out with some sort of nonsense ultra-gross avant garde piece of Eurotrash back with 2005’s “High Tension,” since becoming just as lazy as any backward-capped idiot Michael Bay would hire to wreck a perfectly good horror film. Here, a bunch of pretty (obnoxious) college kids get chewed up by some ancient fish with nasty choppers. Somehow, Christopher Lloyd and Richard Dreyfuss (wearing on outfit that depressingly evokes Matt Hooper) get dragged into the bloody waters of Lake Victoria during an uncommonly stupid Spring Break. Watching nasty CGI fish prey upon hapless victims is a little more fun that watching some anonymous masked killer mercilessly butcher a hapless victim. But, honestly, these fish look pretty stupid. What else would you expect the last weekend of August?–James  

Going the Distance:  Justin Long and Drew Barrymore (Are they back on again?  I can’t keep up.) meet cute and end up in a long distance relationship.  Jason Sedekis and Christina Applegate are the advice dispensing BFFs.  This is documentarian Nanette Burstein’s first fiction piece; perhaps this is better than it looks on paper.  The trailer doesn’t feel as stupid and obvious as the usual rom-com; if John Hodgman makes an appearance as the TSA security guy at the airport, you’ll know you’re in good hands.–Steve

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By shimes, May 19, 2010 7:31 am

Not the A-Team, no hot tub time machine

June 4^th 

Killers:  Two pseudo-stars in a “marriage is like war, look we’re shooting at each other” movie.  Mr. and Mrs. Smith worked, if it did, because you had two genuine big stars with big personalities (Brad Pitt in non-romantic leads counts).  Katherine Heigl and Ashton Kutcher simply don’t move the needle, no matter how much shooting and making out making out while their shooting they’re going to do in this movie.  The only hope is that Tom Selleck walks away with the movie in a supporting role as Heigl’s dad.  Who doesn’t want to watch Selleck give Ashton Kutcher the DeNiro/Stiller treatment, but with more hard-ass old-guy butt-stomping?–Steve

Marmaduke:  I understand that we should be sensitive about Owen Wilson and all, but looking back on Bottle Rocket, was there any clue that it would end up like this?  Owen trying to kill himself before playing the lead in Marmaduke, and a doughy Luke pitching cell phone coverage in sweat pants?–Steve   

Splice:  Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley are rebellious (and hot) young scientists who splice together human and animal DNA.  It doesn’t go as planned.  Brody has been very questionable since The Pianist (his best work is probably struttin’ to Lyrics Born in this Michel Gondry-directed Diet Coke commercial), and Sarah Polley hasn’t had a role of note in years.  Still, I’ll give Splice the benefit of the doubt only because Polley directed, at the age of 28, the best film ever made about Alzheimer’s:  Away From Her, for which Julie Christie was nominated for an Oscar.  That hasn’t nothing to do with Splice, but hey, handing over your hard-earned cash for a movie is about trust, and I trust Sarah Polley.  What can I say?—Steve

Get Him to the Greek: Nothing made me hate Hollywood more than the rumor from a few years ago that MTV Films was going to “re-imagine (or suck the life out of) “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” with Russell Brand in the Tim Curry role. Is there anything duller than a “cringe comedian” who thinks talking about heroine and his abs is shocking? Oh, I know: A film that presents such a comedian as daring and edgy is duller than that. “Get Him to the Greek” is (not) a sequel to “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”, a great film with some weaknesses. Like Russell Brand. Here Jonah Hill – who isn’t playing the same creepy loser from “Sarah Marshall” – plays a creepy loser who has to babysit some audacious rock star. With Judd Apatow’s star beginning to fade, hanging his hat on someone like Brand seems to be a good way to land a film where Leslie Mann is the biggest name. What I am saying is I hate Russell Brand.–James 

June 11^th

The A-Team:  This was always going to happen, it was just a matter of finding the right B.A.  Thankfully, the emergence of MMA made that possible.  Alas, Joe Carnahan, who gave us the amoral shoot-em-up Smokin’ Aces, may not be the sophisticated ironist necessary to elevate The A-Team beyond forgettable one-weekend blockbuster.   You see, in Smokin’ Aces, the target of the hit men was named Aces, and they were trying to smoke him.  This premise requires a more refined sense of humor…somebody to convince Liam Neeson that the only way to play Hannibal is as if he’s really leading a reconnaissance squadron, and that Bradley Cooper needs to be so arrogant that his arrogance is charming.  For Murdock, I was hoping for the same kind of marriage to actor and role that Matthew Lillard brought to Shaggy.  The guy from District 9 doesn’t have a track record, so we’ll see.—Steve

The Karate Kid: Beware! Will Smith is starting to franchise. Little Jaden Smith takes over for Ralph Macchio (or perhaps for Hillary “The Next Karate Kid” Swank) as the fish-out-of-water who has to take on the Art of Jackie Chan in order to beat up the Mean Kids, be Popular, and to Learn Life’s Important Lessons. Like back-end profit sharing (Thanks, pops!). For all of you holding on to some sort of misplaced nostalgia, remember this: (1) The first one stunk so get over it. (2) This story has been done so many times anyway they could have called it “The Bad News Bears Step It Up While Suffering Varsity Blues” and no one would have cared. In fact, they could have called it “Karate Kid: The Next Generation” and made it a straight-to-video sequel without anyone complaining about remaking “classics”. (3) No one has a VCR to play their “Karate Kid” video tape anymore.  So just go see it already.–James 

June 18^th

Toy Story 3:  This is the true test of 3-D.  I’m in the Ebert camp.  I don’t really care for it—I’m wowed by special effects when they help tell a story, not when they try to wow me with special effects.  If Pixar can’t pull off a decent “I-MAX 3-D Experience,” consider it a fad.–Steve

Jonah Hex:  A comic book movie western with Megan Fox as the saloon girl and John Malkovich as the bad guy.  Is there any way to redeem this, and if so, is the director of Horton Hears a Who the guy to do it?  Godspeed, Josh Brolin.  We won’t forget that you’re on an incredible run in your non-Megan Fox movies (Grindhouse, No Country for Old Men, In the Valley of Elah, W., and Milk).  If you’re interested in a Josh Brolin western, the Coen Brothers’ remake of True Grit is a much better bet.  I have a feeling that there may be less “upholding the rule of law” and more “the badge justifies vigilantism” in that one.  Oh, was I supposed to be talking about Jonah Hex?  Sorry about that.–Steve

June 25^th

Grown Ups:  Since none of the Happy Madison crew can carry a film by themselves anymore, Sandler’s solution is to throw them all in a movie at once—as if ten thirty watt bulbs can light up a stage better than one klieg light.  Seriously, they’re all here, clear down to Colin Quinn.  I will admit that I’m cheering for Kevin James, who has been anointed the fat-guy replacement for Chris Farley.  Don’t get me wrong, Farley is Premiere League to James’ MLS, but Paul Blart’s grace on a Segway was something to behold.  Still, this movie has no hope—the majesty of Hot Tub Time Machine casts a long shadow.  They’re going to need more than a fat guy on a rope and Rob Schneider making out with old ladies.–Steve

Knight and Day: The summer’s second “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” rip-off.  Everyone who dismisses Tom Cruise as “crazy” forgets that anyone who pretends to be other people for a living can’t be totally “with it.” Whatever we may think of him, Cruise may have found a second, comedic wind with his explosive performance in “Tropic Thunder.” Cameron Diaz seems washed-up, though she has somehow developed a reputation as a “funny actress” (despite Sir Hitchens’ theory about the fairer sex) while remaining sexy and alluring. Plus, someone who was the lead in two films last year is hardly running on empty. As a couple, they will bat their eyes and flirt as they bounce around the globe and see things go “boom” around them. Hopefully writer-director James Mangold can give this enough weigh to keep it floating off the screen.  Oh…but the haters will still have their day.–James

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By shimes, May 13, 2010 8:02 pm

Movie Fans, I’ve got a bunch of new material for you over the next week or so.  Reviews of the newest releases, a layman’s analysis of the Arizona Immigration Law, a breakdown of Elena Kagan’s softball stance, and my favorite thing all year:  The Summer Movie Preview.  For such a big occasion, I thought it might be fun to get the band back together.  That’s right–James Owen, my partner from the glorious and groundbreaking (yeah, why not) Filmsnobs.com is back in the fold!  He graciously offered to help dish out some trash talk on this summer’s newest remakes, reimaginings, sequels, and blowing-stuff-ups.  James will also be contributing to Movie Day at the Court, so you’ll be getting twice the content for the same low price of free.  And who says the internet is killing real journalism?  So, let’s get to the movies!

May 7^th

Iron Man 2: I know…I know. You’ve already seen it. Even though, by Deadline Hollywood Daily standards, the $130 million it grossed opening weekend makes it a “disappointment”. Because these days, if you don’t gross “Avatar”’s global numbers by the Saturday matinees…your movie totally sucks! Anyway, what you already know is that Capitalism’s has an answer to the selfless, patriotic, not-for-profit Superman/Clark Kent hero.  His name is Iron Man/Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.), who returns to the heavy suit not to fight for world peace or to handle inner demons, but to struggle with Sam Rockwell over a defense contract and to deal with rote Daddy issues. Perhaps the infusion of a morally conflicted bad guy would have made the film as dynamic as the first. Instead, we get Mickey Rourke with his “moose and sqeerrel” routine and Scarlett Johansson as some ill-defined mystery woman whose interesting bits (easy there!) seems to be saved for “Iron Man 3”. At least this keeps director Jon Favreau away from teaming up with Vince Vaughn. Blech!–James

Babies:  Have you ever seen some funny YouTube video in an email sent by your weird aunt and thought: I wish this had better production values and I could spend eight dollars at the local art house to watch this while I drank overpriced mirco-brews? Well, “Babies” is the answer to your prayers! 
Oscar-hunting documentarians follow the first year of an infant’s life in various cultures around the globe.  But seriously, it is very cute and, if you didn’t take your mom to see this on Mother’s Day, you are a movie-hating Communist.–James

May 14^th

Robin Hood: As though I’ve died and gone to Heaven, director Ridley Scott and leading man Russell Crowe have teamed up for another helping of epic craziness. We’ve gone a long way from Scott’s “Body of Lies” where fat ole Russell sat at his kid’s soccer game as he let Leonardo DiCaprio go into dangerous Middle East situations until he’s tortured as though he were living out a Mel Gibson fever dream. Whew! Excuse me. Anyway, our Dynamic Duo is back to do some sort of “origins” story about the famous bandit and Sheriff Nottingham’s dastardly plot to bring him down. Seemingly, when this was announced, this story was going to tell the legendary tale from Nottingham’s view. Perhaps the marketing is being sneaky but, in the AIG and Goldman Sachs era, even Ridley couldn’t make that work. Besides, this is the Robin Hood we’ve been waiting for since enduring Kevin Costner’s “accent”, Kevin Costner’s “mullet”, and Bryan Adams “singing” at the mall multiplex back twenty years ago or so. It also stars Cate Blanchett and that’s never a bad thing.–James  

May 21^st

Shrek Forever After: Paramount, having pillaged the Dreamworks stable until there’s nothing left except for horse tears, goes back to the “Shrek” well to revisit our green ogre (voiced by Mike Myers who  is probably just relieved he hasn’t been dropped from the contract for being impossible to work with) trying to get back to being his normal self. But, after striking a nasty deal with Rumpelstiltskin, he somehow lands in an “It’s a Wonderful Life” scenario where he sees what Never, Never Land would look like if….oh has anyone really cared since “Shrek 2”? Did anyone really care about that except for Antonio Banderas channeling Zorro the Gay Blade into the voice of Garfield? I didn’t. But, hey, you’ve got kids and can’t take them to “The Human Centipede”.  (Please don’t take your children to “The Human Centipede”).–James

MacGruber: I must admit to being very intrigued.  If Lorne Michaels and crew go after some sort of combination Die Hard parody with MacGruber has Jack Bauer in an 80’s style vest, they could be onto something.  Really, if Cheney-ite Republicans insist that the ticking time bomb scenario justifies torture, then they deserve to have this idea mocked by Will Forte and Kristin Wiig.  If Val Kilmer waterboards Christopher Hitchens, I’ll nominate it for Best Picture at the KCFCC Awards in January.  And it’s got a bunch of non-The Rock wrestlers, including Chris Jericho, whose appearances on “I Love the 80’s” merit more mainstream tv time.–Steve

May 28^th

Prince of Persia:  The Sands of Time:  Nothing makes me laugh more than when people talk smack on the new Jerry Bruckheimer Awesome Machine © by saying it looks like a poor man’s “Pirates of the Caribbean”. Sure, because nothing trumps a movie based on a video game like a movie based on a THEME PARK RIDE! Yes, it’s loud and incoherent. But that never stopped anyone from seeing a movie on Memorial Day. What might stop them is any attempt to make Jake Gyllenhaal into an action star. That’s almost as crazy as attempts to make his sister Maggie attractive. Hey-o! Burned her!  But it’s the same wham-bam excitement you would expect from Mike Newell, the director of “Four Weddings and Funeral” and “Pushing Tin”. Oh and he also did one of the “Harry Potter” movies. So, no hate mail about how mis-accurate I am.–James

Sex and the City 2: So I figured Candace Bushnell’s tactic of taking placing crude, sexist stereotypes in trite situations with other cartoonish, under-developed characters, then spouting off “truisms” and “insight” that would make the characters in an 80’s sitcom groan, would have died out with the HBO finale. (I tend to think of “Sex and the City” like “Entourage” for women with no Ari Gold-type character keeping the proceedings from being a total, vapid bore.) But then, appletini-fueled audiences pushed the film version into blockbuster status, so those sassy gals Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), Charlotte (Kristin Davis), and Mae West (Kim Cattrell) all come together to obsess over irrelevant fashion and even more irrelevant men. I hear ladies say this doesn’t look as good as the first. How they can tell is beyond me.–James

Survival of the Dead: Maybe you’d prefer to spend this holiday getting another heaping of George A. Romero’s paranoia riffing on the military-industrial complex through blood and guts. This time, Romero drops his brain-loving zombies in the middle of a family feud that’s been going on decades. The trailer mixes period costumes and art direction suggesting some sort of historical or social ambition. But that’s really confusing, so let’s just say it’s about Afghanistan and the zombies are…Allied troops? Sure.   It stars no one and looks like it will be subjected to the art house ghetto. Summertime!–James

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By shimes, March 3, 2010 11:02 pm

He'll have more fun than you on Sunday night...unless you participate in the Movie Day at the Court 2010 Oscars LiveBlog!

Big news, all!  Longtime Friends of the Blog will remember Filmsnobs.com, mine and James Owen’s website from 2001-2008.  Well, the Filmsnobs are reuniting on Sunday, March 7th at 6:45 for an Oscars LiveBlog!  James Owen will be making his glorious return to the web for 3+ hours of online snarkiness in all its snarky glory!  Join us during the Oscars by clicking at the link below.  We’re doing a Cover It Live event, so we’ll be able to field your questions, publish your comments, participate in our online polls, and basically have something else to do while you’re plowing through hours of awkward intros, weird dance numbers, the Debbie Downer “Who Died This Year” montage, and a bunch of shots of Drunk Nicholson in the front row.

Click Here to Enter the Movie Day at the Court 2010 Oscars LiveBlog!

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By shimes, February 22, 2010 8:53 pm

That's for you, Commies! Takes your socialized health care and shove it! USA! USA! USA!

Screw you, whatever, that’s a good pun.  U.S. goaltender Ryan Miller stood on his head and catapulted the Americans to the top seed in the knock-out round of the Olympic tournament.  This is a big deal:  Basically, we have to beat (probably) the Swiss and the Finns to make the gold medal game.  Miller’s performance only proves that ice hockey goaltender is the single most important and most demanding position in all of team sports, rivaled only by quarterback.  (Yes, the author of this blog is a former goalie.  He is now considering retiring into curling.)

Though this victory was not anywhere near the Miracle on Ice, I was reminded of the movie Miracle, which you probably remember as that Disney hockey movie.  True enough, but Miracle is also a subtle political statement and the first film to really understand goaltending.  Director Gavin O’Connor (whose only movie to date was Janet McTeer’s Tumbleweeds) Miracle opens with a montage of ’70s political moments, Vietnam protests and Nixon’s “I am not a crook” speech, Gerald Ford’s “Whip Inflation Now” speech. From here, O’Connor displays cultural absurdities of the decade (disco, streaking, the Coneheads, Billy Beer) as the natural outgrowth of the confusion and disillusionment of the era’s political failings.  This leads us to the troubles of the late ’70s: recession, the oil crisis, the Iranian hostage crisis and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. The montage ends with Jimmy Carter’s famous “Crisis of Confidence” speech. Then, as if heeding this call to action, a ragtag bunch of skaters works to replenish the national spirit in a little rink tucked inside Rochester, Minnesota.

O’Connor’s montage doesn’t just give context, but it also raises larger questions about America: Why were we failing?  Were the Soviets winning the Cold War, and if so, why?

In the first scene after the montage, Coach Herb Brooks (Kurt Russell) is asked why the Soviets beat the hell out of the NHL All-Stars in a recent exhibition:  “It’s not because you weren’t good enough. All-star teams don’t succeed because they rely on talent. [The Russians] take that talent and mold it into a system that’s designed for the betterment of the team.”

This is a coaching cliché, of course, but in context, O’Connor suggests that the Me Decade attitude eroded America’s ability to act collectively and achieve greatness—in short, to win the Cold War.    

O’Connor puts aside the political subtext to deliver the sports-movie goods.  After a lazy performance against the Norwegians, Coach Brooks skates the boys until they puke to get them to understand the team concept, while the assistant coach stares at Brooks as if he’s insane.  Of course, Coach Knows Exactly What He’s Doing, and he’s got the clichés to prove it: “Be prepared to grow through pain.” “Great moments are born from great opportunity.” “Maybe if they’re all hating me, they won’t have time to hate each other.” 

Just how much of a “psychological mastermind” is Coach Brooks? His first assignment for the team is a 300-question psych exam, which he administers because the real test is to see if his goaltender will refuse to take it. And how beautiful is Brooks’ hockey mind? Well, he devises defensive zone breakout options on the rink glass like John Nash figuring out Reimann’s Hypothesis from inside Princeton’s library.  

In fact, Kurt Russell paints Herb Brooks as complex portrait of an American working man, father figure, and ambitious, ingenious opportunist — a unique American icon in answer to Carter’s challenge.  The temptation here is to turn Brooks into Lombardi on skates, but Brooks has to maintain emotional control for the audience to buy that he “does everything for a reason.” He only has a few outbursts (strategically planned, to wit), so Russell has to build the performance from the inside out. Russell has gotten more interesting as he’s gotten older:  He has an older man’s bulk that’s intimidating, but he’s also developed active, inquisitive eyes that project understanding rather than anger or stoicism.  He scowls, he lectures, and he’s tough enough to skate out there and snap some bullet wristers at his keeper — but Russell has a deadpan sense of humor and a deft touch with the young boys’ emotions. Brooks achieves the spiritual ideal of his sport, forming a bond between a group of men with razor blades strapped to their feet flying into each other at 30 mph:  “hockey team” is a state of mind.

Not only does O’Connor understand the psychology of the sport, he is the first director to understand what differentiates hockey from the other major team sports.  The skating element makes hockey truly dangerous, yet skating gives it a speed and grace unmatched by traditional running sports.  O’Connor understands that this flow is what makes the game great, yet hard to follow on television.  So, he places the camera at ice level, moving at hockey speed, then dramatically cutting and stopping with the players.  O’Connor also captures the constant flow of players shuttling on and off the ice—and, not only does he avoid slow motion (which would completely undermine the whole point of filming hockey), he also avoids dramatizing high speed collisions.  Rather, O’Connor focuses on the beauty that emerges from chaos.

More impressively, O’Connor shows remarkably the difficulty of goaltender Jim Craig’s job. As Craig himself describes in an interview with Eddie Cahill, who plays him in the movie, “When a person comes up the ice, there are 10 things a person can do, then there are seven things a person can do … you’re eliminating things as a person comes at you. You are eliminating options.” This is exactly what a goaltender calculates as the action comes at him.  In a few remarkable sequences, O’Connor flows the camera backward down the ice; we see the options narrow, then—wham!, the goalie anticipates the next movie, beating the puck to the spot to make the save.  This is the essence of the most difficult job in sports, where a man has to take himself to a place where he cannot think, only anticipate and react.  In short, O’Connor films goaltending as athletic meditation.   

As the Olympics approach, O’Connor’s movie regains its political bent. Brooks agonizes over the team’s final cut while the Iranians are burning American flags over his shoulder on television; the boys even give Brooks a nameplate that says “Ayatolla.” To lead into an exhibition with the Soviets at Madison Square Garden three days before the Olympics, O’Connor boldly plays the Twin Towers card, showing us the skyscrapers when the team lands in New York. At first, this seems like a shameless ploy, but O’Connor’s first internal shot of Madison Square Garden is the Americans skating out underneath a banner reading, “Soviet Union: Get the Puck Out of Afghanistan.” We finally meet the Red Army, who rules the ice by intimidation and fear. O’Connor shows us, without demonization, that the Soviets’ arrogance is as much a part of the “miracle” as the Americans’ can-do attitude and relentless training.

During the Miracle game itself, Soviet coach Viktor Tikhonov’s pulling of goaltender Vladislav Tretiak (generally thought of as the greatest goalie in history) after the first period remains one of the worst coaching moves in modern sports — yet in the movie, O’Connor lets Tikhonov off easy; he calmly strokes his wing-tip eyebrows after the Americans sneak into the Russian zone and steal a goal at the end of the first period. Thus, O’Connor’s juxtaposition of the scrappy Americans and the indomitable empire is a story that reaches back to Lexington and Concord: The Red Army simply were not expecting a guerilla attack or for this ragtag militia to withstand the siege.

This is where O’Connor makes a sly political statement. The movie ends with Brooks delivering a monologue about what that victory meant to America. “A few years later, the USOC decided to send pro teams to the Olympics … ‘Dream Teams,’ they call them. But now that we have ‘Dream Teams,’ seldom do we get to dream.” Here, Miracle — for all its Disneyishness — does something quite daring: The movie suggests that the same arrogance that drove the Soviets to send its Red Army team to international competition is the same arrogance that America projects with its Jordan-and-Kobe led squads.

Looking back on the film now, Miracle poses more tough questions about this victory than it provides answers about its legacy. The Soviets were so hated because they imposed their will on the world, whether invading Afghanistan or forcing world-class goaltender Tretiak to renounce his desire to play in the NHL. But then O’Connor boldly shows us the Twin Towers to remind us that they aren’t there anymore.  He uses the Olympics to gauge the rise and fall of two empires; Miracle shows us who we were then, and then asks who we are now.

Are we still a nation that values those old ideals of sacrifice, hard work and perseverance in times of national trial, as we were called to during the Cold War? What do our leaders ask of us in these trying times—and, more importantly, if they ask for sacrifice, are we willing to give it? What have we done to replenish the American spirit, as goaltender Jim Craig and the boys did over two decades ago? As a nation, can we still celebrate minutemen if we have become the world’s ruling empire?  Are we as arrogant today in Afghanistan and Iraq as the Soviets were then?  Will it be our undoing? As Herb Brooks says, there will never be another Miracle for America. It will be someone else’s miracle when they finally topple the mighty Dream Team — all the while telling us to get the puck out of Afghanistan.

Unless, of course, Ryan Miller comes up with fifty saves in the gold medal game against the Russians.  That would be another miracle.

Comments (0)

By shimes, February 19, 2010 3:47 pm

You didn't vote for Pedro? But you said Napoleon Dynamite just NAILED IT! at the assembly!

While watching last night’s epic figure skating smackdown between Evan Lysacek and Evgeni Plushenko, I was reminded of one of the most brilliant sports announcer cameos in the history of movies:  Scott Hamilton in Blades of Glory.

Most sportscaster cameos simply don’t work because the filmmakers don’t use them right.  The cameo usually serves one of two purposes: “authenticity” or comic relief.  Too often, the cameo is asked to do both, creating a problem of contradiction:  the comic relief undermines the authenticity.  Even in comedies, the announcers are there to create the illusion of authenticity; otherwise, why not just have Stephen Colbert call the Nascar race in Talledega Nights rather than make Ken Jenkins read lines about an invisible fire and pay Darrell Waltrip to say “boogity boogity boogity.” The worst case scenario is that Joe Buck comes off even lamer than normal, which somehow happens at the climax of Fever Pitch when he’s SHOCKED that Drew Barrymore would just take off across the Fenway outfield.  Worse, you could have sports announcers do something other than announcing sports, witness the recent failure of Jim Nantz straining for hipness by breaking down Barney’s “Perfect Week” on How I Met Your Mother.

Occasionally, the sportscaster cameo almost works.  In The Longest Yard, Jim Rome pretty much sounds like he’s in The Jungle.  He strains a bit to drop in a “Travis” as a shout-out to the Clones at the multiplex, but Rome avoids the fatal mistake of sounding like he’s reading his lines off a movie script.  Rather, he sounds like he normally does, which is reading his lines off his computer screen on his radio show.  Still, the Rome cameo doesn’t really add anything to the film—Rome is there because of the crossover between his and Sandler’s audience, and it’s a bit of a reach to think that these games would even be broadcast, nonetheless by a $50 million man. 

Thus, the perfect sportscaster cameo meshes a spontaneous feel, like a sportscast, with the internal logic of the film.  The Abdul-Jabbar-in-Airplane! of sportscaster cameos is Howard Cosell covering the consummation of the Fielding marriage in Woody Allen’s Bananas.  As are most of Allen’s comedies, Bananas is an absurdist projection of the mind of the neurotic New York Jew.  Allen’s great fear is that he won’t measure up as a performer, so, in his mind, the wedding night is broadcast by Howard Cosell as if he’s calling the Thrilla in Manilla. Cosell sounds somewhat scripted, but he drops in some trademark Cosell SAT vocab, telling us that Mellish is “buttressed” by his manager and trainer, and in the post-sex interview with the wife, she tells Cosell that her husband’s “timing is a little off.”  Funny stuff.

Scott Hamilton’s cameo in Blades of Glory, on the other hand, is one of those standard-issue “authenticity” roles that doubles as comic relief because the network guy says something rude or non-PC.  Hamilton’s comedic insight is that he doesn’t need to movie-ize his performance.  When you’ve got a fat guy in cowboy vest skating ass-first to “The Stroke,” you don’t need to embellish anything about your usual “Oh, he just nails the triple axel!” call.  “Flawless!” and “Textbook Perfection!” are more hilarious than any beefed up script lines because the joke is that you’re taking this seriously. 

Still, listen a little more closely, and there’s something else going on here.  What makes Scott Hamilton one of the most enjoyable, if not especially insightful, ex-athlete color commentators is the unadulterated joy he has in watching athletes perform.  Granted, during this Olympics, he’s taken to groaning after falls and slight moans when the jump comes up a bit short, but he’s always genuinely engaged in the action on the ice.  He also seems to understand that his audience may not perceive the distinction between an excellent and simply very good triple lutz, so he tells the audience they should be excited because he’s excited.  Figure skating is an artistic medium as well as athletic, and Hamilton is prone to the artist flourish—or, if you will, a total freak-out after, say, a skater lands the quad.  And he’s not afraid to do a Three Stooges “Whoo Whoo Whoo” to describe a recovery after the triple toe.

In Blades of Glory, Hamilton perfectly captures the substance and feel of his own ridiculous commentary:  “This cowboy is cracking his whip on the haunch of this crowd, and they love it!” sounds exactly like a Hamiltonism about, say, Brian Boitano.  His description of Jon Heder’s “galloping peacock” might as well have been about Johnny Weir’s Torino outfit.  Hamilton isn’t exactly deadpan, but he plays the cameo as if he’s actually broadcasting figure skating.  The exaggerated nature of his commentary is even funnier because he doesn’t exaggerate it further for laughs. 

Like a great skating routine, the performance must seem effortless.  Because Scott Hamilton doesn’t try too hard for laughs, he gets them.  In fact, he’s more insightful in Blades of Glory than he’s been in Vancouver:  “Male figure skating is different than female figure skating.  We’re not America’s sweethearts. “ In the words of Scott Hamilton, he just NAILS it!  Textbook Perfection!