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(01/12/07 5:00am)
Hell has frozen over. Sylvester Stallone has defied the gods and nature to make a sixth installment in the long-running "Rocky" film series, and even more shocking, it's a pretty good movie.\nIn "Rocky Balboa," everyone's favorite boxing underdog has finally retired to a quiet life in his home of Philadelphia. Instead of running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Rocky is much more content running his restaurant and regaling patrons with stories of his legendary career.\nOf course, "Rocky: The Golden Years" would make for a pretty crappy (if not unintentionally hilarious) movie, and it's not long before he starts to get the urge to get back into the ring. At first, he's just looking for a few exhibition fights, but it isn't long before the handlers of untested current champ Mason "The Line" Dixon come calling for a fight to put over the unpopular Dixon.\nThe beauty of "Rocky Balboa" is that Stallone gets the joke. He's old. The mere mention of a new Rocky movie has been a joke for almost 20 years now. They're practically running out of Roman numerals.\nBut instead of denying that idea and trying to play a younger character, Stallone embraces the older, more wizened Rocky, a character who now is not just fighting for pride but for the respect of his adult son, who feels like he still lives in his famous father's shadow.\nThough "Rocky Balboa" treads new ground for the character, it also sticks to a pretty traditional formula. You will see the aging boxer punch slabs of meat, run through the streets of Philadelphia and flashback to important conversations during the final boxing match as "Gonna Fly Now" periodically wails in the background. Sure, we've seen all this (five times before, in fact), but it still feels as inspirational as the 1976 film that started it all, and Stallone looks to be in damn good shape for a guy pushing 60.\nI, too, initially laughed at the idea of a new Rocky movie, but it appears that Stallone will have the last laugh on his critics by putting together an incredibly entertaining and believable sequel.\nSupposedly the final bell tolls for Rocky in this movie, but dare I say that by the time the credits were done rolling, I was kind of hoping for a "Rocky VII"
(01/12/07 5:00am)
Say what you will about Mel Gibson's drunken anti-Semitic ravings and positively batty television news-magazine interviews. The man is a born filmmaker. Even my own professed secularism won't prevent me from praising "The Passion of the Christ" as a blood-soaked masterstroke, and no overcooked media circus could've kept me from seeing "Apocalypto" on opening night.\nThe story focuses squarely on Jaguar Paw, played with muted ferocity by newcomer Rudy Youngblood, as he is kidnaped along with the rest of his villagers and taken to be sold or sacrificed. Set amongst a painstakingly recreated Mayan landscape -- and spoken entirely in Yucatec Mayan dialect -- "Apocalypto" shifts into fifth gear before and especially after Jaguar Paw escapes his captors, racing against time and enemy to save his pregnant wife and young son.\nMuch has been made of Gibson's penchant for gore, but, while "Apocalypto" boasts many a cringe-worthy money shot, it's certainly tamer than "The Passion." Still, the film isn't designed for the faint of heart or weak of stomach, especially during its last half, when the pace of the action matches the frequency of blood-letting. The gauntlet of obstacles awaiting Jaguar Paw and his pursuers on the way back to the village of the film's opening scenes is pure horror movie material, and Raoul Trujillo's performance as Jaguar Paw's primary pursuer, Zero Wolf, is one of pure, predatory madness.\nWhat Gibson has fashioned here -- and I commend him for doing so -- is a near-perfect action film: light on story and message, all frenetic pacing and finely tuned chase-scene choreography. Those who mine for a message might unearth some sort of warning about society's unfailing ability to destroy itself from within, but I found Gibson saving the only truly sobering scene for last, impressively depicting nothing less than the exact moment when Mayan society and culture was doomed to extinction.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
While many figured March's excellent Fishscale would keep Ghostface fans full for the current standard of two years, it turns out it was just an appetizer. Less than nine months later, Ghost is back serving up seconds on More Fish, an album that lives up to the expectations of its title. The album kicks off with "Ghost Is Back," an update of Rakim's classic "Know the Ledge." It's a bold move by Ghostface, attempting to compete with the lyrical mastery of someone who uses the last name "Allah." He sets the tone by boasting: "With more blubber than a Ruben Studdard, I grease the pan with rhymes and y'all can't believe it's not butter." From there, it's best to take Ghost's advice: "Chill and stretch all out like franks on the grill." \nThe rest of the songs range from tales of secret government assassinations, dice games gone awry, greedy women and the pains of growing up poor. Each one is rapped with the same ferocity and eccentricity that his fans have come to expect from albums like Supreme Clientele and Fishscale. There is even a song performed by Theodore Unit member Shawn Wigs that is a vivid description of a Texas Hold 'Em game that any WSOP fan is bound to love (and it also features the most ridiculous impression of a line from Rounders that could possibly exist). Other standout lyrics by Ghost include comparing the size of the jewels on his neck to other, more personal "jewels," and peeing on the neighborhood bully. Also, the single skit on More Fish is a noticeable improvement over Fishscale, one-third of which is devoted to skits.\nThis is the album that Jay-Z failed to make with last month's Kingdom Come. In an era dominated by Southern rap, Ghostface sets the tone for what a strong New York emcee should sound like. His trademark intense flow remains consistently engaging, and the gritty and soulful beats are a welcome reminder of the last decade of New York rap. The second half of the record is dripping with soul, as songs like "Josephine," "Gotta Hold On" and "You Know I'm No Good" all have smooth arrangements and great choruses. The latter features British newcomer Amy Winehouse, who adds what seems to be the sultriest voice of the last 20 years.\nWith that said, this album is not perfect. Noticeably absent is any contribution from fellow Wu-Tang members, which usually adds excitement to anything they do. Four songs don't even feature Ghostface at all and instead are performed by members of his Theodore Unit crew. Thankfully, Ghost's crew is more competent than most, and while they can't be compared to their leader, they are capable of holding their own on a song. This album is a great follow up to Fishscale, but it will really just get fans hungrier for the dessert to this meal, 2007's highly anticipated collaboration with MF DOOM, Swift & Changeable. Here's to hoping the third course is just as delicious as the first two.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
Switchfoot's Oh! Gravity is a frustrating album. Beyond being wildly uneven, it seems like the product of a Bizarro World in which experimental is mainstream and mainstream experimental. Just as the complaint against some of the more "out-there" indie acts (say, the Fiery Furnaces or Animal Collective) is that they alternate between pop perfection and artsy hooey, in Oh! Gravity, Switchfoot alternates between tracks of shockingly good garage rock/pop-punk and bland, by-the-numbers post-grunge dross. Perhaps, perched, one on each of singer/guitarist/chief songwriter Jonathan Foreman's shoulders, whispering in his ears, are a tiny Scott Stapp and Julian Casablancas (the Is This It? version, that is). Indeed, rarely will you hear an album so torn between rock good and rock evil. Thus, there's only one way to break it down:\n- Paradise: I must confess, based on my previous exposure to Switchfoot, I did not have high expectations. Quasi-Christian, adult alternative mainstream rockers who got their big break via the Mandy Moore film, "A Walk To Remember"? Oh, hell. But then I heard the first two songs. The title track, "Oh! Gravity," and "American Dream" are great, energetic, snotty, hooky pop-punk ditties true to the Buzzcocks' tradition. Then, later, Switchfoot unleashes their inner 'Stones in the terrifically fun ode to the frustrations of 21st century romance, "Amateur Lovers."\n- Purgatory: Being the realm of tracks that are satisfying, if not superb. Best of these is the slightly sappy, but nonetheless touching elegy "Yesterdays." Next are the better-than average, but contrived stabs at U2/Foo Fighters arena rock, "Awakening" and "Burn out Bright." Then a brave, but flawed experiment: the Eels-esque "4:12."\n- The Pit: Reigning in darkness are the awful "Dirty Second Hands" (imagine emo-screamo choruses grafted to the retro-blues of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's Howl), "Circles" and "Head Over Heels" (both examples of the Creed formula: sensitive-guy vocals plus slow, heavy, loud grunge instrumentals; standard quiet-loud-quiet-loud dynamic). Cringing in the corners: the dull, didactic tale of satanic temptation "Faust, Midas And Myself" and the clumsy, meandering, baroque ballad "Let Your Love Be Strong."\nPerhaps it's wishful thinking, but this album's schizophrenic nature gives me the impression of a band (or band members) dissatisfied with the strictures of lowest-common-denominator rock. Could something better be in their future? For now, though, Oh! Gravity represents just the sort of album that iTunes was made for: The type where you can buy three tracks and leave the rest.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
With his new album, Hip-Hop is Dead, Nas' flow is as gritty and raw as ever. His trademark interior rhyme scheme is here as well. With production by Will.i.am., Kanye West and Scott Storch, and guest appearances by Jay-Z, Snoop Dogg and The Game, how could this album not be an instant classic?\nFor starters, there are way too many mediocre tracks on the album -- recycled gansta' rhetoric that has plagued all this new hip-hop since the drrty South went mainstream. "Play on Playa" with Snoop Dogg is nothing more than an excuse to get Snoop on the album.\nPerhaps the biggest disappointment on the album is the long-awaited collaboration between Nas and Jay-Z on "Black Republican." The track samples a song from "The Godfather: Part II" and has really clean production. Unfortunately, the two emcees (who have both made millions off dis records of each other) have nothing groundbreaking to add to the album. Much like Snoop Dogg, Jay-Z appears on the album as a promotional tool (Jay-Z's Def Jam is responsible for the record). \nThe whole album is not a waste, however. The title track, "Hip Hop is Dead," features the production and vocal talent of Will.i.am. The song has a sing-along hook and features Nas pondering the history of hip-hop: "Everybody sound the same/commercialize the game, Reminiscin' when it wasn't all business/If it got where it started/ So we all gather here for the dearly departed."\nThe collaboration with The Game is the best song on the track. The Game's flow complements the flow of Nas' so well it's sad these two don't work together more often.\nWhile "Hustlers" is the best track on the album, my favorite is the very last track, "Hope." This a cappella song rapped by Nas serves as a eulogy to the now-departed hip-hop. I've always felt poetry is the original rap, and the music an afterthought. That's what makes this song so heartbreaking: There is no music to cover up the emotion in Nas' voice. I hope he tries some more a cappella in the future.\nWith an ambitious title like Hip-Hop is Dead, you better bring the goods, and overall, Nas did not. What is unfortunate is if this album were put out by a brand new emcee, it would seem refreshing in a genre that has gone stale. But Nas, who will never be able to top his debut album, ('94's Illmatic) is still in the shadow of that album a dozen years later. If as listeners we agree that hip-hop is dead, then we as listeners must also agree that this album isn't doing anything to awaken it.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
These weeks immediately after the holiday shopping season are a wasteland for new releases. So why not dig up something that slipped through 2006's cracks? And, indeed, what I'm recommending slipped so deep that seemingly only mp3 bloggers and mole men know about it.\nOriginally released in Britain in 2005, Art Brut's Bang Bang Rock and Roll didn't get U.S. distribution until mid-2006. Therefore, what publicity it received came before the album was widely available and, once available, folks had moved on. This is a shame, as it was not only widely acclaimed by those few who heard it (for instance, it was No. 3 on Pitchfork's Top 50 albums of 2005 list), but also because it's one of the best punk albums of the last 20 years.\nWhen I say that, don't expect Mohawks, super-fast guitars and calls for anarchy. Bang Bang Rock and Roll instead recalls punk's origin as an aesthetic (rather than political) movement based on the idea that rock needed to be rescued from prog-rock's bloated pomposity, that passion was more important than technical skill. This spurred The Ramones, The Clash, The Sex Pistols and The Buzzcocks to form, and Art Brut carries the idea forward, simultaneously attacking rock's pretensions while celebrating its essential values. And they do this with humor, heart and endlessly quotable lyrics.\nUnable to sing due to speech-affecting learning disability, lead vocalist Eddie Argos speaks/shouts like The Fall's Mark E. Smith except rather than spouting oblique poetry, he tells witty, sad-sack stories reminiscent of Pulp's Jarvis Cocker. This is supported by vibrant "three-chord" garage rock that provides the key subtext behind Argos' lyrics (not to mention that it'll get you bouncing up and down).\nThus armed, they display surprising range. For example, in "Formed a Band," "Bang Bang Rock and Roll," "Moving to LA" and "Bad Weekend," Art Brut attacks egotism, banality, elitism and general silliness in the rock world; while poking (sympathetic) fun at hipsterism in "My Little Brother," mocking their "art punk" classification in "Modern Art" and (rather literally) deflating rock machismo in "Rusted Guns of Milan." And yet, in "Emily Kane" and "Good Weekend," they manage to craft stirring pop-punk love songs worthy of The Buzzcocks or The Undertones.\nSo, check it out. You might find it's not for you but, then, if it were for everybody, it wouldn't be punk, would it?
(01/12/07 5:00am)
Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer? isn't due out until Jan. 23, but thanks to the generosity of the band and Polyvinyl Records, it's already available for listening on the Polyvinyl Web site, so, how about a preview? (And after reading this review, you don't have to just take my word on it, check it out yourself at www.polyvinylrecords.com/hissing.)\nIn its first track, "Suffer for Fashion," Hissing Fauna starts off with an explosion. The song's charging guitars, swirling synths and glitchy beat not only grip you by the ears, but set the tone for the rest of the album. Don't expect the sweeter, twee-er, Magical Mystery Tour-esque sound of earlier Of Montreal (say, The Gay Parade or Aldhil's Arboretum), Hissing Fauna follows directly from the sound-change begun in Satanic Panic in the Attic and manifested in The Sunlandic Twins. It's weird, hyperactive, candy-coated disco even more intensely so than Sunlandic Twins and this makes it great fun, if not as lovable as its predecessor.\nThe second track, "Sink the Seine," starts promisingly but is over in an eye-blink. However, afterward, Of Montreal gets on an absolute tear with "Cato as a Pun," "Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse," "Gronlandic Edit" and "A Sentence Of Sorts In Kongsinger." Lyrics about depression and loneliness contrast with bright, funky, danceable instrumentals in this terrific, and surprisingly consistent, four-song run ("Heimdalsgate" narrowly edges out the others to be the album's finest single).\nProblems arise, however, with "The Past Is A Grotesque Animal." Sitting smack in the middle of the album, and sounding like a brighter version of Public Image Ltd., "Past" seems to be building toward something and keeps building and building, and ultimately takes an absurdly long time to go nowhere. It's not that bad, but it breaks Hissing Fauna's momentum.\nFollowing tracks "Bunny Ain't No Kind of Rider," "Faberge Falls for Shuggie" and "Labyrinthian Pomp" are goofy fun but unfocused and lax. It isn't until the hooky dancefloor-burner "She's a Rejecter" that something matches the album's "Cato" to "Kongsinger" height. "We Were Born The Mutants Again With Leafing" concludes things nicely, but isn't as memorable as Hissing Fauna's best moments. Final score? Fans and more-adventurous types will be pleased, but the uninitiated might want to try out Sunlandic Twins first.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
I was very skeptical when I saw the trailer for "Snakes On a Plane" because it had Samuel L. Jackson in it, but didn't look that great. A couple words came to mind: stupid, idiotic, far-fetched. It's funny because I was exactly right. Those are just a few demeaning words that perfectly describe "Snakes On a Plane" one of the biggest pieces of trash in the past year.\nSamuel L. Jackson stars as FBI agent Flynn whose job is to transport a federally-protected witness from Honolulu to Los Angeles. The only problem is this witness, Sean Jones (Nathan Phillips), is the key to putting Eddie Kim, a national Mob boss, in prison and Kim has no intentions to let Sean reach Los Angeles alive. As a ploy to see that Sean is taken care of, Kim unleashes hundreds of deadly snakes all over the plane. It's then up to agent Flynn to see that Sean and the other passengers make it to Los Angeles alive.\nBeyond this terrible movie is actually a sensational DVD to help salvage some respectability. Beyond the normal commentaries, there is actually a hilarious gag reel to stand alongside some great deleted scenes.\nThe best parts of the special features are many featurettes and behind-the-scenes looks at the movies. There is one behind-the-scenes look at the movie as a whole, which is mainly composed of interviews with the cast and crew.\nThe most impressive of the three behind-the-scenes featurettes is the crew showing how they dealt with the presence of snakes on the set and how they chose the snakes to use in the movie. There is also something that shows how they created some snakes using visual effects, which is unbelievable to see how these filmmakers do their work. Last, but certainly not least, there is a feature where the crew and Web site owners talk about the buzz that got started over this movie long before it was released.\nThis movie unsurprisingly was incredibly unrealistic in terms of plot, acting and graphics. The fact that this movie would have such a terrible plot is not surprising, as it was quite evident from the moment "Snakes On a Plane" got lots of Internet buzz before opening that it was meant to be campy. Although it was even more cheesy and ridiculous than I previously thought, its story and acting is very reminiscent of cheap horror flicks from the '70s.\nThe only thing that kept me from throwing something and shouting obscenities at the screen is the fact that Samuel L. Jackson is in it.\nAs much as I love good special features, they usually aren't enough to make me want to rent or buy a movie and they shouldn't be for this movie either. If you are going to the video store this week and want to see some good special features, then I highly suggest you rent "Snakes On a Plane," but if you want to see a good movie stay away from this joke of a movie.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
One of the more original movies of 2006 has finally come to DVD shining as bright as its yellow cover. After receiving great acclaim for its character-driven plot, "Little Miss Sunshine" has lived up to all of the hype and is worthy of its two Golden Globe nominations, Best Musical or Comedy of the Year and Best Performance by a Female in a Musical or Comedy (Toni Collette).\nThis dark comedy is about Olive (Abigail Breslin), who is simply a girl with a dream of becoming Miss America. After being invited to participate in the Little Miss Sunshine pageant in far-off California, Olive's relatively unusual family rallies behind her in an attempt to see her wear the crown. The trip to the pageant in their old VW van is harder than they thought it might be, as they come across many roadblocks along the way. The Hoovers include her dad, Richard (Greg Kinnear), who is failing at his attempt to become a motivational speaker; her mom Sheryl (Toni Collette), who rarely sees eye to eye with Olive's dad; her grandfather (Alan Arkin) who is her cocaine-addict pageant coach; her brother Dwayne (Paul Dano), is nine months into taking a vow of silence; and her uncle Frank (Steve Carell) just got out of a mental institution after attempting suicide. Even after car trouble, feuds and life plan changes, this family sticks together for just one goal: to see Olive win the Little Miss Sunshine pageant.\nThe movie itself is relatively good, but the DVD is lackluster at best. It of course has the normal director and writer commentaries, which aren't a rare find on DVDs nowadays -- it's even more rare to find someone who regularly watches them. Then to cap it off, there are three alternative endings not even worthy of being watched. The directors admit that they stopped the filming one of the endings of halfway through because it was so horrible.\nAs far as a movie, this is quite a good one, but that's where it ends. "Little Miss Sunshine" isn't necessarily the funniest, but it is definitely something you haven't seen before. If you are at the video store, I suggest you pick up this movie off the shelves, but don't expect much in the special features.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
The Jackass guys -- you either love them or hate them. After the first flick made mad money at the box office while garnering terrible reviews from critics nationwide, it was only a matter of time until a sequel came around. Johnny Knoxville swears it wasn't for the money -- the only way another Jackass movie would be made were if enough absurd, death-defying stunts went from paper to successful performance on camera -- and damn, were they successful.\nDodging a bull atop a four-way teeter-totter, jumping a river via giant rocket/rocket wheelchair/rocket bicycle, catching anacondas in a ball pit and -- a personal favorite of mine -- medicine ball dodgeball in the dark are just some of the antics caught on camera. \nGranted there's a lot of comedic stuff going on here, there are plenty of segments that are just disgusting/unfunny after one viewing. Nobody wants to see Steve-O chug a beer into his ass nor watch Knoxville and Spike Jonze wander the Los Angeles streets in old people suits with fake breasts and testicles hanging out for the world to see. I laughed at first, but upon second viewing, I just hit the skip button on my DVD remote.\nLike I said, the guys wanted to raise the stakes this time around. People might remember Knoxville taking a riot gun-launched beanbag to the chest in the first movie -- this time he convinces Bam Margera and Ryan Dunn to stand by his side as they feel the wrath of an embassy mine loaded with hundreds of rubber balls. The end result? More bruises and welts than you've ever seen on a human body and one bawling Bam. \nOn the DVD, you can expect to find well more than an hour of additional and deleted scenes, some of which are quite hilarious (stun gun hot potato), others just downright lame (trash can cymbals). You also get a commentary with all the guys talking about how painful the whole experience was. \nWhat disappointed me the most, though, was the missing scene of Don Vito having a tooth removed via a wire attached to a muscle car. The scene was removed from the theatrical release because of Vito's apparent pedophile arrest and the scene is nowhere on the DVD. I'm sure it is hilarious in an awful kind of way, but because of legal matters, it'll probably never see the light of day. \nWill a third Jackass happen? Bam swears it won't, but given the sequel's box office success and Hollywood's obsession with trilogies, don't count it out of the realm of possibility. You can, however, count on people to cough up their $8 the next time around and the bar to be raised even higher.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
Remember that shitty '80s song by Loverboy? It sucked, didn't it? Well, if you could give me 400 words about why it sucked, I'd pay you $8. I'll up the ante. If you give me reviews like that every week, then you can get free discs, movie passes, concert tickets and get your picture in the paper. \nI'm running reviews this semester, and I need your help. Everyone has an opinion, and I want yours. Consider this my Coach Hep "I want you campaign." \nSo send me your scathing reviews of tired, Hollywood schlock. Help me get your poor indie bands struggling to breathe free into the scene. Compiling "The Scene" every week highlighting what's going on every weekend is a daunting task. Get in on the game. Let me know when your band is playing, when your artsy show starts and why people should go to it.\nA big complaint about WEEKEND is that we have grade inflation. And it's a valid one. The problem is that people only request to review things they think will be good. We need people who are willing to review every week and take risks on things they've never heard of. Reviewing a pathetic movie can be just as rewarding as reviewing one you loved. Giving "Clerks II" a D was almost as fun as raving about "Borat." \nEven if you don't want to write for us, you're reading this, and you probably have an idea about what we can do better. Let me know. We have tons of ideas on ways to expand the reviews. I'm looking to have a panel of reviewers giving their input so we can create our own kind of rotten tomatoes. We want people following TV shows week to week so we can keep you up-to-date on the intricacies of "Lost," the twists and turns of "24" and discuss the relationships of our favorite TV romances. \nThere's a lot of work to be done and we need more writers to do everything possible. \nSo send me a 450-word review of something you loved and something you hated, and we'll get you on the team. \nThis summer I got to go to Lollapalooza, Bonnaroo and got a ton of free discs to review just because I worked at the WEEKEND. Come on. Everybody's doing it.\nE-mail Zack at: Teibs84@gmail.com
(01/12/07 5:00am)
It's January and as Hollywood looks toward the upcoming year ahead, we offer some New Year's resolutions.\nBritney Spears: Come on Brit, at least try. You keep complaining about the media misrepresenting your life. I feel for you. If the paparazzi ever were to come down to Kirkwood and see the drunkenness of half our school, we'd be all over the headlines of Us Weekly, too. Try to look alive for the cameras. Regularly wearing underwear might be a good start.\nZach Braff: Don't aspire too high. "The Last Kiss" proved you're not the huge box-office draw people expected after "Garden State." Don't leave "Scrubs" after this season to pursue a movie career. It's been one of the few shows that improves every season and you won't realize how great a job you had until it's gone.\nUgly Betty: It's time to start dressing up. You've repeatedly proved your moral superiority over all those fashionista bitches at Mode Magazine, but that still doesn't mean you can't conform a little and buy something nice. Those second-grade picture-day sweaters look so damn itchy.\nNew Line Cinemas: Quit whining and just hand over the money supposedly owed to Peter Jackson for "The Lord of the Rings" movies. This way, he'll agree to direct "The Hobbit" and both regular and Middle-Earth will be happy.\nMTV: Stop offering sweet-ass magazine internships on reality shows like "The Hills" and "I'm From Rolling Stone." As an aspiring journalist, how the hell are people like me supposed to get our dream jobs when we're forced to compete with hot, insecure, alcoholic "Real World" rejects? \n"Grey's Anatomy": Calm down the insane medical scenarios. For once, it'd be nice to see a regular patient enter Seattle Grace, not conjoined twins or somebody with a tree through his stomach.\nNancy Meyers and Alejandro González Iñárritu: Trade places. Ms. Meyers, your films ("The Holiday") are always so uplifting and happy while Mr. Iñárritu's ("Babel) always leave the audience feeling like rape victims. Try each other's style for a change. Meyers can take on a darker story line, while Iñárritu learns not everything in the world has to be so depressing.\nKate Winslet: Gain some confidence. Stop taking all these ugly duckling roles. \nSuperman: Cheer up! 2006 was supposed to be your comeback year; instead you got schooled at the box office by a flamboyant pirate. It's understandable that with Bond turning vulnerable and Spider-Man about to get all dark, there's pressure for heroes to be deep and meaningful. But you're America's greatest hero. Pop some anti-depressants and stop being so emo. And ditch Lois' kid. Even if it is yours, the last thing you need is a son. Jor-El left you with so many father issues, by being a dad, you'll only overcompensate to the point that the kid will hate you.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
While many people were happy to see El Niño keep the weather warm enough to stop all the precipitation Bloomington has had this winter from turning to snow, not everyone feels that way. This year's unseasonably warm weather has put many of Bloomington's best winter activities on hold.\nOne person who has missed out on one of his favorite winter activities -- icefishing -- is Bloomington resident Aaron Barrow. Griffy Lake is a hot spot for winter activities when the weather has been cold enough to freeze the water on the lake, Barrow said.\n"It's usually a winter social event at Griffy Lake," Barrow said. "You can find people out there icefishing, playing hockey, walking their dogs or just walking around enjoying the winter."\nMost of the people icefishing on Griffy Lake are after pan fish, such as bluegill and red ear, Barrow said. For many, icefishing is the only type of fishing they do, Barrow said.\n"For a lot of people, that's the only fishing they do because when the water temperature is that low, there's no algae growing in the lake," Barrow said. "The fish don't taste as fishy as they do when they're in warm water."\nThe Department of Natural Resources Web site, www.in.gov/dnr, states that four inches of ice is needed for safe icefishing.\n"I'm not going out on any less than four inches. I prefer five," Barrow said.\nBarrow said he walks about five feet off the bank and drills a hole with his ice auger to see how thick the ice is. Indiana law limits ice fishing holes to a diameter of 12 inches, but it used to be eight inches, Barrow said. Barrow's seven-inch ice auger is well within the law.\n"It pretty much does it all. If I catch anything bigger than seven inches, I'm in trouble," Barrow said. "But I never have."\nIf the ice is thick enough, Barrow will drag his homemade ice sled equipped with a Coleman heater onto the lake. It's an all-wood sled without the metal runners.\n"I can pretty much stay out there no matter how cold it is," Barrow said.\nThe DNR Web site suggests icefishers wear plenty of warm clothes and a life jacket for safety and added warmth. Barrow said he usually packs plenty of food and something warm to drink as well.\nOther equipment needed for icefishing are rods and reels specifically for icefishing, which are simple and inexpensive, Barrow said. The bait normally used is beemoth, white larvae that come in small plastic containers with sawdust and can be purchased at any bait store, such as Buddy Bill's Bait Barn. Fishing licenses are also required and cost $17. They can be purchased almost anywhere, including Wal-Mart.\nBarrow also warns that icefishing can be habit-forming. Once you have the equipment, when fall comes around, you're checking your gear so you'll be ready to go, he said.\n"When everybody else is hoping for warm weather you're hoping for cold weather," Barrow said.\nBarrow is not the only person who enjoys cold Midwestern winters. IU sophomore Jacob Papp said he likes to find big, open parking lots to do donuts, drifting "and all that fun sliding around when it snows."\n"Building snow ramps is the shit, too," Papp said. "Or running out on the lake and seeing how far you can get before the ice starts cracking."\nThe dam at Lake Monroe is where it's at for sledding, Papp said.\nIU sophomore Isaac "Stone" Simonelli agrees that the Lake Monroe dam is the best place for sledding. It's a double hill, Simonelli said.\n"There's a sharp hill, then it cleans out for 30 or 40 feet and then another hill," Simonelli said. "If you get real compact snow, you can hit them both in one go."\nSimonelli also recommends doing the polar plunge into Lake Monroe. It feels good when you get out Simonelli said.\n"It's refreshing," Simonelli said.\nSledding is also a favorite pastime for IU senior Elise Headley.\nHeadley said she hasn't gone sledding in a few years, but she used to go to Bloomington High School North and sled on the hill by the soccer field.\n"But I was younger and it seemed bigger then," Headley said.\nNow Headley and her friends sometimes go to the Frank Southern Ice Arena behind Bloomington High School South off of Henderson Street.\nFrank Southern Ice Arena offers public skating times and during two sessions on Saturday nights, the arena turns out the lights for lunar skating.\nDuring the lunar skate sessions, the arena must adhere to a certain capacity of occupants for safety.\n"There hasn't been a night without cutting people off for a while," said Nicole Montembeualt, Frank Southern Ice Arena supervisor and an IU grad student.\nThe arena also offers stick and puck nights from November to February. People can drop in to a pickup game of hockey, Montembeault said. It's $7, but goalies get in free because players are always looking for more, Montembeault said. \nTimes can be found at the arena's Web site or by calling the ice information hotline at 349-3741. Public skate time is limited because the IU hockey team practices and competes at the arena.\n"The place really fills up and gets pretty rowdy during games," Montembeualt said.\nThe IU figure skating club also practices and competes at the arena.\nStudents looking for more traditional winter recreation activities such as skiing and snowboarding need to merely head south on highway 37 for about 45 minutes to find Paoli Peaks' full-service ski and snowboard resort. The resort offers a variety of terrain designed for any skill level from beginner to expert, said Brandy Ream, director of sales marketing and public relations. Lessons are available any time the resort is open and clothing rental is available on-site.\n"Students should take advantage of our college night specials," Ream said.\nCollege night specials are every Thursday for the rest of the season.\nStudents with a valid ID can purchase a $29 complete package, which includes a ticket, ski or snowboard rental, and a lesson. That package is normally $71, Ream said. Students can also visit the Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer Garden, which serves from 6 to 9 p.m. For more information, visit www.paolipeaks.com.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
As I peered over the rim of my paper Dixie cup, steam swirled playfully into my face as if I had charmed it from the cup. My drink was chocolate. Hot chocolate.\nThe only thing between me and the door was a large, stuffed camel. Behind me was a model boat. I was sitting at my first stop on the great hot chocolate crawl: Café et Crepe on Fourth Street. They make their hot chocolate with milk, Ghirardelli chocolate sauce and sometimes a shot of vanilla if it gets too dark. \nI usually think of hot chocolate as a beverage for children or adults with an unnatural aversion to drinking coffee. But it happens to be the signature drink of winter.\nWhen I was a kid, hot chocolate was a post-sledding ritual. After sliding down the same hill over and over again, my brother and I put our blue plastic sleds in the trunk of my dad's hatchback. At home, our hot chocolate came from the microwave. Sometimes the milk got that filmy skin floating on top from being overheated, but the hot ceramic mugs thawed our fingers.\nThe more accurate term for the beverage might be hot cocoa, but saying "cocoa" makes me feel like I'm either being pretentious or addressing a monkey. \nMy goal was to look for hot chocolate around Bloomington in places "off the beaten path." (In case you were wondering, the beaten path is Starbucks.)\nMy journey began on a Saturday morning with an empty stomach. I walked instead of driving between all my destinations in an attempt to work up the proper chill needed to truly appreciate hot chocolate. It was 47 degrees. I'll admit it could've been colder to maximize the hot chocolate effect. In between tasting, I cleansed my palate with a stick of Juicy Fruit.\nBefore Café et Crepe, I had tried to sample the drink at the IU Art Museum Café and Giftshop, but it was closed for winter break. My next stop was Café Ami, a cozy little house on Fourth Street, but it was temporarily closed. My next chocolate attempt was a new place I saw in the phone book called Crystal Parrot on Walnut Street, but it's so new it's not even open yet.\nI don't know what I did to anger the Hot Chocolate Gods, but their wrath was vengeful.\nFinally I arrived at Café et Crepe, where an earnest young man in a bright blue shirt made my desired beverage. He offered to add a flavor shot. He motioned behind the counter to a row of colorful bottles filled with syrups, but the first one read "Praline," a flavor that doesn't appeal to anyone under the age of 60, so I decided to stick with plain cocoa. It tasted like a Civil War re-enactment on a hot summer's day with rifles made of chocolate. Mild and tongue-tingling.\nI wandered to the Scholars Inn Bakehouse on College Avenue, where the atmosphere was lively and Panera-esque. A little girl in a lime green fleece started to cry to her mother because she was too hot. But her mother had just ordered her a hot chocolate.\nThe Bakehouse hot chocolate is made with chocolate syrup and steamed milk. I was surprised when the woman at the counter asked me if I wanted whipped cream. I eagerly said yes. From then on, every time I was offered whipped cream, I accepted. Calories be damned. Floating on top of the chocolate, the cream looked like a rose made out of soap. It tasted like skidding through a candy store on a Razor scooter made of chocolate. Sweet and rich.\nI strolled down to 10th Street to see if they had hot chocolate at Revolution Bike and Bean. I was excited to patronize a business that marries bicycles and hot beverages. The place is 75 percent bike shop and 25 percent espresso bar. The prices for bike repairs are listed on a chalk board right next to the menu for drink prices. It's not a place where you can sit down and drink, but the smell of rubber is invigorating. Bike and Bean's hot chocolate happened to be the cheapest and the tastiest yet, made from powdered Ghirardelli chocolate mix. It tasted like roadtripping from Boston to Philadelphia in a Honda Accord made of chocolate. Robust and exciting.\nThree hot chocolates in a row, though delicious, brought on nausea. I postponed the crawl for the following morning.\nSunday morning was 41 degrees and rainy. I began at The Copper Cup on College Avenue. This particular coffee shop gave me my very first opportunity to sit in a giant purple chair made of Ultrasuede. I almost wished I had something I needed to study. \nAs I sat in my purple chair, drinking my hot chocolate made from milk and chocolate syrup, I suddenly sipped something solid. It was unexpected, but delicious. I immediately removed the lid to see what was floating around in my cup. Chocolate shavings on top. Nice touch. It tasted like drifting down the Mississippi on a raft made of chocolate. Fun and stimulating.\nThe next stop on the hot chocolate crawl was Soma Coffee House just off Kirkwood Avenue. They, too, use powdered Ghirardelli chocolate mix, but the whipped cream has cinnamon in it. I grabbed my drink and crept into the back room where you could hear the rain hitting the windows. I felt at ease sitting with a green lamp to my left, a game of Yahtzee! to my right and my cinnamon whipped cream in hand. It tasted like watching your favorite movie on a couch made of chocolate. Cozy and scrumptious.\nThe last hot chocolate I tried gave me the opportunity to meditate by gazing out on a misty mountain landscape on the front of the box of Swiss Miss in my kitchen. Those little marshmallows never lose their novelty. But if tiny people were drowning in my hot chocolate, I doubt the buoyancy of those miniature marshmallows could save them. \nMy kitchen doesn't have an espresso machine to steam the milk. In fact, I didn't even have milk. The hot chocolate tasted like buying a gumball at 3 a.m. from a truck stop made of chocolate. Gritty, but satisfying.
(12/08/06 8:06pm)
Every Christmas people save up their money to buy things that will show their loved ones just how much they care. They sneak them into the house to wrap them up, and then they place them under the Christmas tree. On Christmas morning, people tear through wrapping paper to find exactly what they wanted.\nThat's what's supposed to happen, but it doesn't always work out that way.\nMany people have discovered that giving someone a gift doesn't always create the desired effect, and sometimes, people get stuck with things they don't really want. Twenty-one-year-old Bloomington resident C.R. Hoke discovered this truth firsthand when he was in high school. One day, Hoke was at the mall with his girlfriend. The couple eventually made their way to the pet store where Hoke's girlfriend cast her eyes upon a rabbit, and it was love at first sight. Seizing the opportunity to be able to buy his girlfriend a gift he was sure she wanted, Hoke decided to buy the rabbit for her.\n"I bought a cage, the rabbit, everything," Hoke says. "It was over a hundred bucks."\nHoke felt like the boyfriend of the year until he arrived at his girlfriend's house. When the couple arrived with the rabbit, his girlfriend's parents were less than pleased.\n"While my girlfriend and her parents were arguing back and forth, I'm just standing there holding this cage with a rabbit in it," Hoke says. "Then her dad was like 'Why did you do this?'"\nAfter that, Hoke began to get hot and felt like he was going to start sweating. Eventually, the arguing subsided, and it was decided that the rabbit could stay for one night in the garage, but after that, Hoke had to take the rabbit. Hoke attempted to return the rabbit to the pet store, but the pet store wouldn't take the rabbit back.\n"I was with my friend, and he started mouthing off to the guy, but that didn't do any good," Hoke says.\nHaving no other choice, Hoke took the rabbit home.\n"My parents were cool with it," Hoke says. "We let it run around in the backyard."\nUnbeknownst to him, Hoke's mother had just had their lawn treated by ChemLawn.\n"The next day my eight-year-old brother finds the rabbit stiff as a board lying on its side," Hoke says.\nThe rabbit was dead.\n"It broke my little brother's heart," Hoke says.\nGift-givers are not the only victims of bad gift-giving. Gift receivers can be victims, too, as freshman Michelle Hoover found out at a young age. Every year, about 25 or 30 of her family members would get together for Christmas, Hoover says.\n"I was about seven or eight years old, and I had just started wearing training bras," Hoover says. "My godmother asked my mom what she should get me for Christmas."\nOn Christmas morning, everyone was in the family room watching the children open their gifts. Hoover opened her godmother's gift and found a matching training bra and underwear.\n"I about crapped myself," Hoover says. "I was so embarrassed."\nThe kids had to hold up what they got so the adults could take pictures Hoover says.\n"I had to hold it up against my body and let them take pictures of me," Hoover says. "You have no idea how embarrassing it is when you first start wearing a bra to have it displayed to my entire family."\nBad gift-givers should remember that what goes around, comes around. Sophomore Griffin Lock and the rest of his family have been reminded of this every Christmas now for the decade. It all started when Lock's uncle asked his grandpa for turtleneck sweaters for Christmas.\n"My grandpa, an older man and not really with modern society, responded by giving my uncle a box containing about 10 dickeys," Lock says.\nDickeys are the neck part of a turtleneck and nothing else, Lock says.\n"Of course, my family, who gets off on comedic situations, lost it," Lock says.\nLock says the next year, his uncle decided to fight back. One year later, Lock's dad opened his Christmas present from his uncle.\n"There, to his surprise, was a red dickey from the gift package a year before, laughing him in the face," Lock says.\nLock's dad was not the kind of person to be one-upped and responded in kind by giving Lock's uncle a shirt the next year, but inside was the red dickey.\n"Every year since then, on Christmas, the dickey is passed back and forth between my dad and my uncle as a reminder of how horrible that was," Lock says.\nUnconventional gift-giving rules can help ensure that people get what they really want. Senior Christopher Meadows and a group of several friends decided one Christmas that all the gifts they gave to each other had to come from College Adult Books.\n"Among the gifts purchased were fuzzy pink handcuffs, edible body paint that caused the skin to tingle, erotic dice, magnum condoms and a plastic sheep," Meadows says.\nAnother stipulation for this particular gift-giving experience, Meadows says, was that all gifts must be used.\n"'Far as I know, everyone kept their words," he says.\nWaiting to find out what you're getting for Christmas can also set you up for unpleasant surprises. Freshman Jessica Quillen's sister found this out the hard way.\n"My family always bothers each other about what they're getting from everyone," Quillen says.\nSo one year when Quillen's sister asked what she was getting for Christmas, Quillen told her she was getting a box of rocks.\n"She didn't believe me, and she kept asking, and I kept telling her, 'a box of rocks,'" Quillen says.\nOn Christmas, when Quillen's sister opened a box filled with rocks, she found out that Quillen wasn't lying.\n"So finally, when she opened it up, she realized I was telling her the truth, until she saw the ring box, of course," Quillen says, referring to her actual gift of jewelry.\nThis holiday season will bring countless other gift-giving mishaps, but if you shy away from live animals and matching undergarments, you can greatly reduce your chance of acquiring a gift-giving horror story.
(12/08/06 8:05pm)
Mr. Big, professional midget wrestler, leaps off the top rope of the ring and tackles cruiser-weight wrestler Bobby Black in his signature move, the "drop kick off the top rope." All 4'9" and 135 pounds of Mr. Big knocks Black onto the mat with a slam, but soon Black and his tag team partner have managed to pin Mr. Big. \nEnter TVZ.\nThe tag-team comprised of brothers Tom and Troy Van Zant rushes into the ring, though whether it is to help Mr. Big or beat on their chief rivals, tag-team Bobby Black and Donny Idol, is unclear. The crowd cheers for TMZ and Mr. Big or boos their opponents, shouting "Opie" at Idol because of his baby face. Wrestlers fly out of the ring right and left, occasionally pausing to clobber each other on the way.\nDing, ding, ding — the bell rings and an early match of last Saturday's show is over for the time being. But at Hoosier Professional Wrestling, it ain't really over until founder Jerry Wilson says so. \nWhen I first set out for Wilson's wrestling ring in Columbus, Ind., I was a little nervous, given that I don't know the difference between any of the many acronym-ed wrestling associations. Nevertheless, Hoosier Pro Wrestling turned out to be entirely more entertaining than I expected. The wrestlers constantly interacted with the crowd. Usually the crowd insulted the wrestler's ability or his sister, while wrestlers responded with comments about the crowd's choices of hairstyle.\n"I'll knock the rest of your teeth out," one wrestler, Dr. Love, hollers at a heckling fan. \nOthers play to the crowd. "The Bouncer" emerges from behind the tarp marking off a "backstage" area carrying a keg of beer on his shoulders and yells, "Who wants some beeeeeeeer?"\nNot surprisingly, the fans approve of the Bouncer, who ends up winning his match. \nWilson has hosted fights in the Family Arts Center at the Bartholomew County 4-H Fairgrounds every month for almost the last nine years. He uses about 40-50 wrestlers every year and even fights them once in a while.\n"I occasionally get beat up," he corrects.\nAfter the Mr. Big-Idol-Black-TVZ fight, Wilson decrees that the best is yet to come. He orders Idol and Black to find a third partner and face Mr. Big and TVZ once more before the night is out. The crowd cheers, and Idol and Black snag Big John Wall as their partner. The challenge is on.\nAs more matches take place, I grow used to the loud smacking sound every time the wrestlers hit the ground. And I was growing to be just a tiny bit curious when suddenly someone noticed me flinching at each throw.\n"You don't know anything about wrestling at all, do you?" \nApparently not. But does that mean that it sounds a lot worse than it is, or that it isn't real? \n"We don't do fake," Wilson says. "It's real, the punches are good. If you aren't trained right and you fall wrong, you could break your neck." \nAfter I see one wrestler twist his knee, this seems fair enough. And the wrestlers? \n"It's as real as you believe it is," Mr. Big says. "If the crowd says it's real, it is. And I've had cracked ribs, a broken leg and a bruised kidney. I was in the hospital for 30 days, pissing blood."\nWalking through the crowd — and seeing two-year-old Jayden attempt to tackle his father, smack-down style — I start to feel more comfortable. I easily dash around scattering chairs as wrestlers tumble into the crowd, and I settle down next to a row of particularly intense fans to watch the melee.\n"I've been watching since childhood — I watch it on TV every Thursday and come here every month," Jennifer Eckiwaudah says. "I cheer for TVZ, always. Those other guys (Black and Idol) disrespected me personally."\nThe "show" — everyone is very careful to refer to it this way, not as a competition — is held in the Family Arts Center, which on other days holds activities such as the Saddle Club. And it certainly is a family event. Along one row sat four generations of a family, all screaming and heckling the wrestlers without mercy.\n"I've been watching since — shit — since the 1960s," Beverly Rumple, who attended with her mother, daughter and grandson, says. "I've been coming here every month. They have good matches." \nFor her part, Rumple, who is married to the son of wrestling legend Dick the Bruiser, says HPW wrestling is real. And a veteran of almost 50 years of wrestling fandom, she'd certainly be someone who'd know. \n"It's not like its fake, they're really wrassling," Rumple says. "Some places you go its staged. But to me, this is real."\nWhich brought up another point: the "wrestling" versus "wrasslin'" dilemma. As a wrestling (wrasslin') newbie, I have no idea what the difference is.\n"It's 'wrestling,' but down South you say it 'wrasslin,'" Wilson says. \nWilson also trains fighters, he says, and he has about four in training right now. He once trained Jillian Hall, a female wrestler who made it to "WWE Smackdown!" On this note, he mentions that he could certainly train me. An option I briefly consider before finding out that beginning wrestlers make about $30 per fight, which is only slightly better than a career in journalism and with considerably more pain involved. \nBut TVZ and company have returned for the three-on-three match, and I go back to paying attention. By this point, any semblance of rules have been abandoned, and though it is supposed to be one wrestler fighting at a time, soon all three are smacking each other. And apparently the ring was just a guideline, because most of them have totally abandoned it, fighting in the crowd and walloping each other with chairs. The more painful looking hits include Big John Wall — at least 300 pounds — jumping on top of the comparatively diminutive Van Zant brothers. \nBut ultimately, TVZ emerge as victors and seemingly all 185 members of the crowd erupt. Unfortunately for TVZ, however, Tom Van Zant twists his knee and is taken out of competition. Still, the show goes on as brother Troy teams up with someone else for remaining fights.\nMore fights follow, including a final "bloodbath" between Diceman Ronnie Vegas and Ox Harley, with Wilson himself getting involved. It ends in double disqualification after the contenders violently scattered most of the chairs and tables around the ring. But it garnered loud cheers — though one little girl hid in the bathroom to avoid the wrestlers. \n"'The Hammer' didn't show, but we gave them a good show anyway," Wilson says, mopping his forehead. "Nobody is leaving disappointed, and they'll be back next month."\nThe next show will be Jan. 6. Though I can't promise that I'll have committed to a future in professional wrestling by then, the important thing is that I have options.
(12/08/06 7:56pm)
1. My Chemical Romance -- The Black Parade\nMaking the biggest career leap forward in 2006 is New Jersey outfit My Chemical Romance, who by wearing their influences (Queen, Pink Floyd, Bowie) on their sleeves tackled a concept album about a teen dying of cancer and knocked it out of the park. That Gerard Way and his band threw on Sgt. Pepper costumes and pretended they were someone else for awhile is a notable coincidence. By jettisoning the occasional grating vocals of their debut and expanding the pop songcraft of their platinum sophomore release "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge," My Chemical Romance has matured into a band worth watching closely. \nStandout track: "Disenchanted"
(12/08/06 7:54pm)
Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. \nCase in point: The three Burger King-inspired video games on sale for $3.99 each with the purchase of a value meal at participating restaurants.\nEach of the games features a variety of soulless corporate characters for you to play as, including the always creepy King, Whopper Jr. and super model Brooke Burke.\n"Sneak King" is easily the worst of the bunch (quite an accomplishment), and the most terrifying video game since "Resident Evil."\nYou play as The King, complete with perfectly rendered never changing smile, as he wanders around such areas as a construction yard and a random neighborhood surprising people with artery-clogging Burger King goodness.\nThe more surprised people are the more points you score, and the more points you score, the more you die a little bit inside.\nIt's kind of like "Metal Gear Solid," if "Metal Gear Solid" sucked, and instead of shooting terrorists, Snake threw hamburgers at them with a dumb grin on his face.\n"Pocketbike Racer" features the aforementioned cast of Burger King rejects racing miniature motorcycles on a variety of inspired courses, including, and I swear I'm not making this up, the Burger King parking lot.\nIn theory, a "Mario Kart" clone featuring The King and his pals on bikes for a few bucks doesn't sound too bad, but when you quickly come to the realization that the controls were made to emulate the feeling of a Burger King extra value meal sliding down your digestive tract, the appeal quickly wears off.\n"Big Bumpin'" is the least offensive of these three horrible games, featuring some decent last man standing action with bumper cars and a genuinely fun hockey game that can be played over Xbox Live.\nIf you ever see these games sitting on your friend's shelf, they're worth putting in for a few minutes to gawk and say, "My God, someone actually thought this was a good idea!" and then laugh at your friend for buying such garbage, but otherwise they're not worth the effort, even at the bargain price of $3.99 each. You really do get what you pay for.
(12/08/06 7:54pm)
This movie should have never been made. Like Jay-Z announcing the Black album was his last, Kevin Smith assured fans he was done with his Jersey crew after "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back." Both Smith and Jay-Z should have known when to fade to black.\nThere's no reason to make "U.S. Marshalls" 15 years after "The Fugitive," and even less reason to bring back Jay and Randall a dozen years later for one more trip to the Quik Stop.\nThe original "Clerks" is wonderful. Made for under $30,000 in black and white, the humor is biting, offensive and captures the 90's malaise and ambivalence of early 20s guys. \n"Clerks II," on the other hand, ends with the line, "Today is the first day of the rest of our lives," with no sense of irony. It's that bad.\nIt's the second worst Kevin Smith movie. "Jersey Girl" is absolute Hollywood schlock without an interesting scene or idea. "Clerks II" is right above "Jersey Girl" on the Smith totem poll hovering two feet off the ground. A hundred feet up the poll are "Mallrats," "Dogma," "Chasing Amy" and "Clerk" wondering how Smith could go so soft in his old age. \nIn an excruciatingly long behind-the-scenes on the second disc, Smith said he had the idea to start the movie with the Talking Heads song "Nothing but Flowers" and end with the boys owning the Quik Stop. All he had to do was write the middle hour and a half. And he did so by inserting a pathetic love triangle, lame Star Wars vs. Lord of the Rings geek arguments and sex with a donkey. \nWhat makes this movie so bad is, well, a lot of things. It's predictable, but above all, else Smith has lost his ability to be cutting edge. His donkey sex and "porch monkey" jokes teeter on the edge of being offensive or shocking, but they produce few laughs.\nThe 2-disc DVD is packed with extras like three commentaries, deleted scenes, but more of a bad thing is bad. Even the bloopers are boring. \nThere was a Clerks cartoon that was quite good, worked on a lot of levels, and captured the spirit and hilarity of the original. But for now, Smith has got to figure out what made his movies so enjoyable, how to write a good love story like "Chasing Amy," and stop Jay and Silent Bob from making me nod off throughout "Clerks II. "\nIf these are the movies he chooses to make, Kevin Smith's whole perspective is whack. Maybe I'll love him when he fades to black.
(12/08/06 7:51pm)
At the time of my writing this, Incubus' has been getting fairly positive reviews -- from Allmusic.com, the Associated Press, the L.A. Times and so on. This has led me to consider and reconsider my initial reaction to this disc. But each successive spin has only reaffirmed my conclusion: Someone has to stand up to this madness -- to butcher the famous Edmund Burke quote, "All that is required for (mediocrity) to prevail is for good (critics) to do nothing."\nLight Grenades represents a conflux of two powerful currents of mainstream dullness -- the generic post-grunge sound that refuses to die out no matter the horrors wrought upon it (Candlebox, Creed, Nickelback); and the generic, feel-good, pop therapy lyrics most commonly associated with Coldplay's Chris Martin. Thus, Light Grenades is not merely generic, but hyper-generic -- like products in the 1984 cult classic film "Repo Man," its album artwork should be a plain white wrapper with "Rock Band" printed across the front.\nThis isn't to say that it's as notoriously dreadful as Creed or Nickelback -- Incubus brings the rock effectively, if familiarly, on tracks such as "Anna Molly," "Light Grenades" and "Rogues." The hooks are there, the energy's there and the lyrics play a decidedly secondary role to the spirited drums, blasting guitars and raw timbre of Brandon Boyd's voice.\nProblems arise when things slow and quiet down -- and for a nominal rock group, you'd be surprised how often this occurs on Light Grenades. With the instruments dialed back, you can't avoid paying attention to what Boyd is singing -- which is usually an unbearably sappy variation on "don't worry, things will be all right" (worst offenders: "Dig," "Love Hurts" and "Diamonds and Coal").\nLight Grenades is so powerfully bland, it'll probably sell a zillion copies. But please know that there's an abundance of exciting, original music out there -- you don't have to settle for this.