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(07/17/03 4:00am)
Boston-based rockers Guster have returned following a four-year hiatus with the intermittently entertaining and ultimately unchallenging Keep It Together.\nThe trio, best known for its simplistic acoustic guitar and bongo-driven sound, has diversified by integrating pianos, banjos and the occasional flirtation with all instruments electric into the mix. This broader sonic palette makes Keep It Together a moderately more interesting listen than its predecessors, and yet, Guster seems unable to lift itself into the higher echelons of the pop pantheon. \nThe collective shines when performing bittersweet songs named after chicks i.e. "Diane" and "Ramona," or guiltily enjoyable dribble like "Come Downstairs and Say Hello," and that's about it. Lead-off single, "Amsterdam," is moderately if not moronically catchy, and sounds as though it was cribbed from Third Eye Blind's latest record (no, this is not a compliment). A guest appearance by the infinitely talented Ben Kweller on the album's closer, "I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today," shows these dudes as the minor hacks they most assuredly are. The track left me wanting to hear Kweller's new album as opposed to a bonus track by these Beantown boobs. With Roger Moutenot (Yo La Tengo) producing, one would understandably expect more from Keep It Together. As is, it'll certainly get heavy rotation come September when the frat rats return.
(07/10/03 4:00am)
Martin Scorsese is perpetually being robbed. After having directed such classics as "Mean Streets," "Taxi Driver," "Raging Bull" and "Goodfellas," it's mind-boggling to think the man's never won an Oscar. And so the story goes again with Scorsese's latest effort -- his dream project -- "Gangs of New York." Hailed by critics and abandoned by audiences, "Gangs" is a near-masterpiece that should have taken home a slew of golden boys, including Best Costumes, Best Set Design, Best Actor and Best Director, but alas, didn't.\n"Gangs" centers on Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio), an Irish immigrant vowing revenge on Bill the Butcher (an awe-inspiring Daniel Day-Lewis) for having murdered his father (Liam Neeson) when he was a boy. This personal vendetta is set against the backdrop of New York's Five Points during the Civil War era, which also hosted the oft forgotten Draft Riots. Entangled in this battle of wills is Jenny (a horribly miscast Cameron Diaz), a pickpocket and the woman loved by both men. \nThe DVD is chock-full of cool special features that enhance the viewing pleasure of the flick itself. Highlights include the Discovery Channel's short yet utterly informative documentary, "Uncovering the Real Gangs of New York," a passionate feature-length commentary by Scorsese and a 360 degree tour of the sets given by Scorsese and his ingenious production designer Dante Ferretti. Sound and picture are both top-notch. The only thing that would have helped the disc would be the inclusion of Scorsese's rumored four-hour director's cut, which, in all likelihood, will be released sometime down the line to bilk more money from consumers.\nFlaws and all, "Gangs of New York" is an amazing film, and will probably be seen as an unadulterated masterpiece within the next 20 years or so. Cinephiles need this disc in their collection. Casual film fans with strong stomachs (the flick spares no amount of ketchup) should at least rent and watch "Gangs," if for no other reason than to see Day-Lewis's tour de force performance. Either way, it's a bloody good time at home.
(07/10/03 4:00am)
After the cinematic maelstrom that was "Jingle All the Way," "Batman and Robin," "End of Days," "The 6th Day" and "Collateral Damage," it's amazing that Arnold Schwarzenegger still has a career. His last certifiable hit was "Eraser," all the way back in 1996, and even that flick was proceeded by the half-assed turd of a movie, "Junior." Suffice it to say, the '90s were primarily a wash for the once untouchable musclehead who reigned over multiplexes with an iron fist during the "Me" decade. Well, lock and load -- the Austrian Oak has smartly hearkened back to his badass '80s action roots with "Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines."\nThe question remains: is the flick any good? The answer: absofuckinglutely, this, despite a few snags. Sure, "T3" doesn't boast the gritty, low-budget overachieving spirit of James Cameron's original, nor does it shine with the pop culture artistry of "T2," this latest entry to "The Terminator" mythos is more akin to "The Little Engine That Could." Minus series veterans Cameron, Linda Hamilton and Edward Furlong, director Jonathan Mostow revokes the hack status he established with previous efforts, "Breakdown" and "U-571," by making a shrewd, suspenseful, surprising and stripped-down (yes, in spite of the $170 million budget) sci-fi action opus.\n"T3" opens on John Connor (as played in grand form by indie vet Nick Stahl), who at 23 is already a broken shell of a man. He lives off the grid, working odd jobs here and there, cruising from town to town on his bike, no phone, no credit cards -- the only thing he harbors is a drinking problem. Memories of being a pseudo-messiah and the threat of Judgment Day are far behind him. That is, until a souped-up lady Terminator known as the T-X (sexy newcomer Kristanna Loken), or as my buddy Hooju dubbed her, "The Herminator," is dispatched to off Connor and bring about the apocalypse. Enter Arnie, in full-on biker regalia, fresher and funnier than he's been in years -- his mission: to once again protect Connor from cyborg-spurred assassination attempts. Also caught in the onslaught is young veterinarian Kate Brewster (a startlingly good Claire Danes) -- Connor's former make-out buddy and future spouse. Action ensues -- cars are smashed and blown up, folks are capped by the dozens, robot on robot action is the norm and hence, I emerged from the theater with a shit-eating grin smeared across my face.\nOkay, I've heaped enough praise on the flick -- where are the faults? First, the film's a tad slow toward the beginning. Secondly, while the movie is humorous and jokes often hit their marks, when they miss it's groan inducing at best (i.e. a stereotypically faggish male stripper tells Arnold to "Talk to the hand," sadly, he does and later dons the man's star-shaped sunglasses). Lastly, "Singled Out" and "Shipmates" host Chris Hardwick cameos as an engineer, while he's not on screen long, it's distracting and unintentionally funny. \n"Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines" isn't as good as its predecessors, but with the heart and gravitas infused by Stahl and Danes, the humor and hulkishness of Schwarzenegger, the scary sex appeal of Loken and Mostow's mastery of action set-pieces it's one hell of a night at the movies. And better yet, it left me yearning for a "Terminator 4"
(07/09/03 11:38pm)
Martin Scorsese is perpetually being robbed. After having directed such classics as "Mean Streets," "Taxi Driver," "Raging Bull" and "Goodfellas," it's mind-boggling to think the man's never won an Oscar. And so the story goes again with Scorsese's latest effort -- his dream project -- "Gangs of New York." Hailed by critics and abandoned by audiences, "Gangs" is a near-masterpiece that should have taken home a slew of golden boys, including Best Costumes, Best Set Design, Best Actor and Best Director, but alas, didn't.\n"Gangs" centers on Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio), an Irish immigrant vowing revenge on Bill the Butcher (an awe-inspiring Daniel Day-Lewis) for having murdered his father (Liam Neeson) when he was a boy. This personal vendetta is set against the backdrop of New York's Five Points during the Civil War era, which also hosted the oft forgotten Draft Riots. Entangled in this battle of wills is Jenny (a horribly miscast Cameron Diaz), a pickpocket and the woman loved by both men. \nThe DVD is chock-full of cool special features that enhance the viewing pleasure of the flick itself. Highlights include the Discovery Channel's short yet utterly informative documentary, "Uncovering the Real Gangs of New York," a passionate feature-length commentary by Scorsese and a 360 degree tour of the sets given by Scorsese and his ingenious production designer Dante Ferretti. Sound and picture are both top-notch. The only thing that would have helped the disc would be the inclusion of Scorsese's rumored four-hour director's cut, which, in all likelihood, will be released sometime down the line to bilk more money from consumers.\nFlaws and all, "Gangs of New York" is an amazing film, and will probably be seen as an unadulterated masterpiece within the next 20 years or so. Cinephiles need this disc in their collection. Casual film fans with strong stomachs (the flick spares no amount of ketchup) should at least rent and watch "Gangs," if for no other reason than to see Day-Lewis's tour de force performance. Either way, it's a bloody good time at home.
(07/09/03 11:28pm)
After the cinematic maelstrom that was "Jingle All the Way," "Batman and Robin," "End of Days," "The 6th Day" and "Collateral Damage," it's amazing that Arnold Schwarzenegger still has a career. His last certifiable hit was "Eraser," all the way back in 1996, and even that flick was proceeded by the half-assed turd of a movie, "Junior." Suffice it to say, the '90s were primarily a wash for the once untouchable musclehead who reigned over multiplexes with an iron fist during the "Me" decade. Well, lock and load -- the Austrian Oak has smartly hearkened back to his badass '80s action roots with "Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines."\nThe question remains: is the flick any good? The answer: absofuckinglutely, this, despite a few snags. Sure, "T3" doesn't boast the gritty, low-budget overachieving spirit of James Cameron's original, nor does it shine with the pop culture artistry of "T2," this latest entry to "The Terminator" mythos is more akin to "The Little Engine That Could." Minus series veterans Cameron, Linda Hamilton and Edward Furlong, director Jonathan Mostow revokes the hack status he established with previous efforts, "Breakdown" and "U-571," by making a shrewd, suspenseful, surprising and stripped-down (yes, in spite of the $170 million budget) sci-fi action opus.\n"T3" opens on John Connor (as played in grand form by indie vet Nick Stahl), who at 23 is already a broken shell of a man. He lives off the grid, working odd jobs here and there, cruising from town to town on his bike, no phone, no credit cards -- the only thing he harbors is a drinking problem. Memories of being a pseudo-messiah and the threat of Judgment Day are far behind him. That is, until a souped-up lady Terminator known as the T-X (sexy newcomer Kristanna Loken), or as my buddy Hooju dubbed her, "The Herminator," is dispatched to off Connor and bring about the apocalypse. Enter Arnie, in full-on biker regalia, fresher and funnier than he's been in years -- his mission: to once again protect Connor from cyborg-spurred assassination attempts. Also caught in the onslaught is young veterinarian Kate Brewster (a startlingly good Claire Danes) -- Connor's former make-out buddy and future spouse. Action ensues -- cars are smashed and blown up, folks are capped by the dozens, robot on robot action is the norm and hence, I emerged from the theater with a shit-eating grin smeared across my face.\nOkay, I've heaped enough praise on the flick -- where are the faults? First, the film's a tad slow toward the beginning. Secondly, while the movie is humorous and jokes often hit their marks, when they miss it's groan inducing at best (i.e. a stereotypically faggish male stripper tells Arnold to "Talk to the hand," sadly, he does and later dons the man's star-shaped sunglasses). Lastly, "Singled Out" and "Shipmates" host Chris Hardwick cameos as an engineer, while he's not on screen long, it's distracting and unintentionally funny. \n"Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines" isn't as good as its predecessors, but with the heart and gravitas infused by Stahl and Danes, the humor and hulkishness of Schwarzenegger, the scary sex appeal of Loken and Mostow's mastery of action set-pieces it's one hell of a night at the movies. And better yet, it left me yearning for a "Terminator 4"
(07/03/03 4:00am)
For those of you not in the know, Kerasotes is Bloomington's sole theatrical film chain. Sure, it, like any other corporation has its strong suits. Hell, Kerasotes hooks your film-reviewing buddy, "Tenacious A," up with free passes when at the theaters on "business." And Showplace 12 does boast some of the comfiest movie theater chairs I've ever plunked my lazy butt onto. So, perhaps I should stop being a whiny, little pud and avoid biting the hand that feeds me? No, screw that, I'm in the right this time.\nAm I being irrational? No, I think not. Just look at some of the recent cinematic atrocities committed against the Bloomington community by these monopolistic mofos. \nSpike Lee's latest joint (Did I just pull that off, despite being the honky I most admittedly am?) "25th Hour" was released locally some three months after its initial theatrical release this past winter. For Pete's sake, the film was released in Lafayette two months prior. And that says something, folks. I'm from West Lafayette; our idea of high culture normally involves sniffing glue in a parking lot and pilfering our neighbor's lawn gnomes. If IU can bring a respected filmmaker like Lee to campus, why can't Kerasotes do so much as release his latest work in a timely manner? Worse yet, the company only exhibited the flick for a week. \nSpeaking of timeliness -- what's up with these cats bringing flicks to town that'll be available on DVD a few weeks later? A recent example of this disconcerting trend is the Terry Gilliam-centered documentary "Lost in La Mancha." The film was given a limited, one-week engagement a few weeks ago and the DVD is already available. C'mon guys and gals, is this any way to run a respectable business? If you can't release something in a timely fashion, don't release it at all. Let film fans watch the flick in a civilized manner -- at home, in their boxers or preferred undergarment, a bag of Funyuns in lap and beer in hand on the barcolounger. Please, show us the respect we're likely to show ourselves.\nThe crowning jewel in Kerasotes' monetary and cultural dump on Bloomington is the kung-fu grip the compay nretain on Kirkwood's beloved and currently defunct Von Lee Theatre. The place has sat dormant since May of 2000, and Kerasotes refuses to sell fearing competition from prospective buyers. Essentially, they're pissing away profits that were theirs to begin with.\nHere's an idea. Why not sell the dive to me? I'll get loans from the bank, and transform the joint into Bloomington's very own little grindhouse that could. Better yet, I'll turn the place into a movie theater/bar. Seating would consist of ratty couches retrieved from dumpsters and papisan chairs stolen from dirty hippies. I'll show movies that only like 10 people or so would want to see (Sadly, most of them would be buddies of mine.), and in all likelihood I'd drink away any profits I made. \nSee guys, I'm not competition -- I'd be a joke! A cautionary tale told to IU business majors. After my business went belly-up, I'd likely burn the place to ashes and rubble, collect the insurance money, buy a Kia, drive to Utah, hit the hash pipe and start-up a Kool-Aid swigging cult comprised of co-eds and cornholios. \nHere's the long and short of things. There's no need for a blowhard IDS lackey such as myself to badmouth what could be a decent chain in ill-advised columns such as this one. Kerasotes should simply give the Von Lee up. Not necessarily to a chucklehead like me, but to someone who'd use the facility for educational and/or constructive purposes. And while it's great that art films are being shown locally, release more and better ones when given the opportunity. \nSure, I wanted to see an anorexic Cameron Diaz jump kick Demi Moore in her fake tits just as much as the next guy or misguided feminist. But do we really need something like four screens of "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle?" I've seen this abomination, and the answer's a resounding "No." Use additional screens to bring more movies like the Brazilian powerhouse "City of God" to town. Or better yet, even bother with releasing Christopher Walken's new flick "Poolhall Junkies" or Jonas Åkerlund's highly-touted feature debut "Spun." And do so when school is in session, so people can actually see them -- I'm officially off the soapbox.
(07/03/03 4:00am)
Admittedly, I found the first "Charlie's Angels" flick to be a superficially entertaining guilty pleasure. Its sequel, "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle" is not. Sure, each film boasts overly wire-assisted fight sequences, scantily clad leading ladies parading about in fetishistic slut gear and a thorough catalogue of '80s cheese metal. What separates the two, however, is that one is imbued with some sense of character, plot, humor, heart and smarts -- no matter how thin -- and the other is not. Sadly, "Full Throttle" doesn't have a brain in its pretty little head.\nNormally, this is where I'd go about describing the plot, but as this latest "Angels" vehicle has none, it's relatively fruitless. Suffice it to say, our three heroines (Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu) reunite for some sort of malarkey involving the retrieval of two rings containing a database revealing the names and locations of those protected by the FBI's witness relocation program. This inexplicably leads to a showdown between the Angels, one of their fallen comrades, Madison Lee (Demi Moore, augmented breasts and all) and Dylan's (Barrymore) Irish stereotype of an ex-boyfriend ("Mulholland Dr." star Justin Theroux). \nAs written via committee by the married and all-together talentless duo Cormac and Marianne Wibberley (yes, the same idiots responsible for scribbling the equally moronic "The 6th Day" and "I Spy") and John August (usually a solid screenwriter, what with a comedic gem like "Go" and the original "Angels" flick under his belt), "Full Throttle" has no focus. Essentially, its "Lord of the Rings" meets a Russ Meyer movie, only dumber and strung together by a series of lame-brained vignettes and musical numbers as opposed to an actual story.\nThe screenwriters cannot accept all the blame, though. MTV-weaned director McG apparently knew he had nothing to work with, and therefore litters the film with unneeded cameos (Bruce Willis, the Olsen Twins and rapper Eve -- amongst many others), poorly rendered special effects and enough edits to make Michael Bay's head spin. His actresses aren't much better, as each willfully rests upon her respective laurels. They primp and preen and do little else of note. In wake of such vanity, the talents of Bernie Mac, Robert Patrick (aka T-1000 in "Terminator 2"), Luke Wilson, Matt LeBlanc, Crispin Glover and John Cleese go to roost.\nWhat little "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle" does right (i.e. a visually arresting motocross sequence, a surfing montage set to the Beach Boys' "Surfer Girl" and Moore's few moments as a sexy villainess) is squandered in excess. This is a franchise truly running on fumes.
(07/03/03 2:26am)
Admittedly, I found the first "Charlie's Angels" flick to be a superficially entertaining guilty pleasure. Its sequel, "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle" is not. Sure, each film boasts overly wire-assisted fight sequences, scantily clad leading ladies parading about in fetishistic slut gear and a thorough catalogue of '80s cheese metal. What separates the two, however, is that one is imbued with some sense of character, plot, humor, heart and smarts -- no matter how thin -- and the other is not. Sadly, "Full Throttle" doesn't have a brain in its pretty little head.\nNormally, this is where I'd go about describing the plot, but as this latest "Angels" vehicle has none, it's relatively fruitless. Suffice it to say, our three heroines (Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu) reunite for some sort of malarkey involving the retrieval of two rings containing a database revealing the names and locations of those protected by the FBI's witness relocation program. This inexplicably leads to a showdown between the Angels, one of their fallen comrades, Madison Lee (Demi Moore, augmented breasts and all) and Dylan's (Barrymore) Irish stereotype of an ex-boyfriend ("Mulholland Dr." star Justin Theroux). \nAs written via committee by the married and all-together talentless duo Cormac and Marianne Wibberley (yes, the same idiots responsible for scribbling the equally moronic "The 6th Day" and "I Spy") and John August (usually a solid screenwriter, what with a comedic gem like "Go" and the original "Angels" flick under his belt), "Full Throttle" has no focus. Essentially, its "Lord of the Rings" meets a Russ Meyer movie, only dumber and strung together by a series of lame-brained vignettes and musical numbers as opposed to an actual story.\nThe screenwriters cannot accept all the blame, though. MTV-weaned director McG apparently knew he had nothing to work with, and therefore litters the film with unneeded cameos (Bruce Willis, the Olsen Twins and rapper Eve -- amongst many others), poorly rendered special effects and enough edits to make Michael Bay's head spin. His actresses aren't much better, as each willfully rests upon her respective laurels. They primp and preen and do little else of note. In wake of such vanity, the talents of Bernie Mac, Robert Patrick (aka T-1000 in "Terminator 2"), Luke Wilson, Matt LeBlanc, Crispin Glover and John Cleese go to roost.\nWhat little "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle" does right (i.e. a visually arresting motocross sequence, a surfing montage set to the Beach Boys' "Surfer Girl" and Moore's few moments as a sexy villainess) is squandered in excess. This is a franchise truly running on fumes.
(07/03/03 2:23am)
For those of you not in the know, Kerasotes is Bloomington's sole theatrical film chain. Sure, it, like any other corporation has its strong suits. Hell, Kerasotes hooks your film-reviewing buddy, "Tenacious A," up with free passes when at the theaters on "business." And Showplace 12 does boast some of the comfiest movie theater chairs I've ever plunked my lazy butt onto. So, perhaps I should stop being a whiny, little pud and avoid biting the hand that feeds me? No, screw that, I'm in the right this time.\nAm I being irrational? No, I think not. Just look at some of the recent cinematic atrocities committed against the Bloomington community by these monopolistic mofos. \nSpike Lee's latest joint (Did I just pull that off, despite being the honky I most admittedly am?) "25th Hour" was released locally some three months after its initial theatrical release this past winter. For Pete's sake, the film was released in Lafayette two months prior. And that says something, folks. I'm from West Lafayette; our idea of high culture normally involves sniffing glue in a parking lot and pilfering our neighbor's lawn gnomes. If IU can bring a respected filmmaker like Lee to campus, why can't Kerasotes do so much as release his latest work in a timely manner? Worse yet, the company only exhibited the flick for a week. \nSpeaking of timeliness -- what's up with these cats bringing flicks to town that'll be available on DVD a few weeks later? A recent example of this disconcerting trend is the Terry Gilliam-centered documentary "Lost in La Mancha." The film was given a limited, one-week engagement a few weeks ago and the DVD is already available. C'mon guys and gals, is this any way to run a respectable business? If you can't release something in a timely fashion, don't release it at all. Let film fans watch the flick in a civilized manner -- at home, in their boxers or preferred undergarment, a bag of Funyuns in lap and beer in hand on the barcolounger. Please, show us the respect we're likely to show ourselves.\nThe crowning jewel in Kerasotes' monetary and cultural dump on Bloomington is the kung-fu grip the compay nretain on Kirkwood's beloved and currently defunct Von Lee Theatre. The place has sat dormant since May of 2000, and Kerasotes refuses to sell fearing competition from prospective buyers. Essentially, they're pissing away profits that were theirs to begin with.\nHere's an idea. Why not sell the dive to me? I'll get loans from the bank, and transform the joint into Bloomington's very own little grindhouse that could. Better yet, I'll turn the place into a movie theater/bar. Seating would consist of ratty couches retrieved from dumpsters and papisan chairs stolen from dirty hippies. I'll show movies that only like 10 people or so would want to see (Sadly, most of them would be buddies of mine.), and in all likelihood I'd drink away any profits I made. \nSee guys, I'm not competition -- I'd be a joke! A cautionary tale told to IU business majors. After my business went belly-up, I'd likely burn the place to ashes and rubble, collect the insurance money, buy a Kia, drive to Utah, hit the hash pipe and start-up a Kool-Aid swigging cult comprised of co-eds and cornholios. \nHere's the long and short of things. There's no need for a blowhard IDS lackey such as myself to badmouth what could be a decent chain in ill-advised columns such as this one. Kerasotes should simply give the Von Lee up. Not necessarily to a chucklehead like me, but to someone who'd use the facility for educational and/or constructive purposes. And while it's great that art films are being shown locally, release more and better ones when given the opportunity. \nSure, I wanted to see an anorexic Cameron Diaz jump kick Demi Moore in her fake tits just as much as the next guy or misguided feminist. But do we really need something like four screens of "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle?" I've seen this abomination, and the answer's a resounding "No." Use additional screens to bring more movies like the Brazilian powerhouse "City of God" to town. Or better yet, even bother with releasing Christopher Walken's new flick "Poolhall Junkies" or Jonas Åkerlund's highly-touted feature debut "Spun." And do so when school is in session, so people can actually see them -- I'm officially off the soapbox.
(06/26/03 4:00am)
"Narc" is one of the best cop flicks I have ever seen. As such, it went woefully ignored during its all-too-brief theatrical run this past winter. Now that the film is available on a jam-packed DVD, it'd be a crime for any cineaste worth his or her salt to miss it.\n The movie kicks off in jolting Grand Guignol-fashion with Nick Tellis (Jason Patric) pursuing a violently drug-addled perp via foot. Eventually, the chase escalates towards tragic violence. In lieu of the bloodshed, Tellis is stripped of his badge, and what remains is the drug-induced shell of a former narcotics officer. Flash forward a year: another narc is killed. Tellis is commissioned to rejoin the force alongside the slain man's disgruntled partner, Henry Oak (Ray Liotta). Together, these scruffy, hard-edged Detroit cops break protocol and all else in bringing the killer(s) to justice.\n What reads as a third-string plotline to some retread cop show pilot, unfurls as something much deeper. "Narc" is a meditation on ethics, love, racism and other weighty issues. The flick also boasts the finest performances of either Patric or Liotta's already impressive careers. This mark of quality extends well beyond the film itself. \n The DVD is loaded with cool, informative special features. Writer/director Joe Carnahan and his skillful editor, John Gilroy, team-up for a surprisingly light and funny commentary track given the movie's dark nature. Additionally, there's a collection of short yet interesting documentaries aptly titled "Making the Deal," "Shooting Up" and "The Visual Trip." Though, my favorite is entitled "The Friedkin Connection," in which prolific '70s auteur William Friedkin praises and draws parallels between "Narc" and his own seminal cop flicks i.e. "The French Connection" and "To Live and Die in L.A."\n "Narc" is a film that both embraces and subverts its well-worn genre conventions. Fans of police yarns such as Friedkin's aforementioned flicks, as well as "Serpico," "Heat," "L.A. Confidential" or TV's "The Shield," would be well-advised to seek out this arresting piece of cinema.
(06/26/03 4:00am)
Rockstar Games has become a major player within the video game industry these past few years, as its "Grand Theft Auto" series has blown-up into a full-fledged cultural phenomenon. "Midnight Club II," the sequel to one of its lesser, but nonetheless entertaining games, continues the proud, deviant tradition set forth by the label. "MCII" is edgy fun, but it lacks the grit and perversity that made "GTA III" and "Vice City" so damned cool.\nGamers man souped-up cars and bikes in a series of illegal street races stretching across Los Angeles, London and Tokyo. While no licensed vehicles are featured, the programmers over at Rockstar are astute enough to churn-out convincing and easily decipherable rip-offs. Luckily, "MCII" boasts numerous play modes i.e. cruise, circuit race and two variations on capture the flag, which deepen and differentiate the gaming experience. The controls are easy to pick up. Levels are vast, chock-full of sick jumps and feature top-notch graphics. Certainly, it's a handsome and utterly playable game. \nDespite the apparent craftsmanship, my mind wanders back to "GTA" -- the "gold standard" in gaming. Sure, you can hit pedestrians, but there's no bloody tire streaks. Often, I yearned to mow down a bevy of pimps and street hustlers via a crotch rocket drive-by. No such luck. Worse yet, your opponents are a string of grating, trash-talking racial stereotypes begging for such vile treatment.\n"Midnight Club II" is an improvement over its predecessor. The inclusion of motorcycles, nitrous oxide boosters and the ubiquitous hit-and-runs helps considerably. The game is well-worth a rent and world's more entertaining than the similarly-themed recent flick, "2 Fast 2 Furious." For the more depraved gamers out there: just stick with "GTA"
(06/26/03 4:00am)
It's an unseasonably cool summer night. Ascending upon a local Chinese eatery following an endless car ride, I'm tired and not the least bit hungry -- Starbucks is needed, not Schezuan. The purpose: interviewing Colleen Jankovic and John Landis (no, not the director of "Animal House"), the brainchildren behind Sprocket to the Moon -- Bloomington's brand-new, first of its kind independent film distributor.\nI walk into the restaurant exactly on time, and yet, Jankovic and Landis are already seated. She's a spritely bundle of energy with geek chic glasses, thrift store threads and a charmingly unwieldy mass of raven locks. He's her mellowed-out, dressed-down and all together down-to-earth counterpart. Immediately, things are set at ease and the interview progresses naturally as we munch on Crab Rangoon and sip hot tea.\nAmid the prototypically chintzy decorum of the Chinese restaurant -- everything's cloaked in deep burgundies, mint greens and cream corn yellows -- the two tell me of their aspirations. Essentially, Sprocket to the Moon is looking to bring local filmmakers opportunity, profit, exposure and a community forum. For now, it's all being done from the confines of a table adorned with Chinese Zodiac placemats adjacent to a dragon-emblazoned wall. Odd, as the two seem far more cinema verite as opposed to kung fu.
(06/26/03 2:12am)
It's an unseasonably cool summer night. Ascending upon a local Chinese eatery following an endless car ride, I'm tired and not the least bit hungry -- Starbucks is needed, not Schezuan. The purpose: interviewing Colleen Jankovic and John Landis (no, not the director of "Animal House"), the brainchildren behind Sprocket to the Moon -- Bloomington's brand-new, first of its kind independent film distributor.\nI walk into the restaurant exactly on time, and yet, Jankovic and Landis are already seated. She's a spritely bundle of energy with geek chic glasses, thrift store threads and a charmingly unwieldy mass of raven locks. He's her mellowed-out, dressed-down and all together down-to-earth counterpart. Immediately, things are set at ease and the interview progresses naturally as we munch on Crab Rangoon and sip hot tea.\nAmid the prototypically chintzy decorum of the Chinese restaurant -- everything's cloaked in deep burgundies, mint greens and cream corn yellows -- the two tell me of their aspirations. Essentially, Sprocket to the Moon is looking to bring local filmmakers opportunity, profit, exposure and a community forum. For now, it's all being done from the confines of a table adorned with Chinese Zodiac placemats adjacent to a dragon-emblazoned wall. Odd, as the two seem far more cinema verite as opposed to kung fu.
(06/26/03 2:11am)
Rockstar Games has become a major player within the video game industry these past few years, as its "Grand Theft Auto" series has blown-up into a full-fledged cultural phenomenon. "Midnight Club II," the sequel to one of its lesser, but nonetheless entertaining games, continues the proud, deviant tradition set forth by the label. "MCII" is edgy fun, but it lacks the grit and perversity that made "GTA III" and "Vice City" so damned cool.\nGamers man souped-up cars and bikes in a series of illegal street races stretching across Los Angeles, London and Tokyo. While no licensed vehicles are featured, the programmers over at Rockstar are astute enough to churn-out convincing and easily decipherable rip-offs. Luckily, "MCII" boasts numerous play modes i.e. cruise, circuit race and two variations on capture the flag, which deepen and differentiate the gaming experience. The controls are easy to pick up. Levels are vast, chock-full of sick jumps and feature top-notch graphics. Certainly, it's a handsome and utterly playable game. \nDespite the apparent craftsmanship, my mind wanders back to "GTA" -- the "gold standard" in gaming. Sure, you can hit pedestrians, but there's no bloody tire streaks. Often, I yearned to mow down a bevy of pimps and street hustlers via a crotch rocket drive-by. No such luck. Worse yet, your opponents are a string of grating, trash-talking racial stereotypes begging for such vile treatment.\n"Midnight Club II" is an improvement over its predecessor. The inclusion of motorcycles, nitrous oxide boosters and the ubiquitous hit-and-runs helps considerably. The game is well-worth a rent and world's more entertaining than the similarly-themed recent flick, "2 Fast 2 Furious." For the more depraved gamers out there: just stick with "GTA"
(06/26/03 2:10am)
"Narc" is one of the best cop flicks I have ever seen. As such, it went woefully ignored during its all-too-brief theatrical run this past winter. Now that the film is available on a jam-packed DVD, it'd be a crime for any cineaste worth his or her salt to miss it.\n The movie kicks off in jolting Grand Guignol-fashion with Nick Tellis (Jason Patric) pursuing a violently drug-addled perp via foot. Eventually, the chase escalates towards tragic violence. In lieu of the bloodshed, Tellis is stripped of his badge, and what remains is the drug-induced shell of a former narcotics officer. Flash forward a year: another narc is killed. Tellis is commissioned to rejoin the force alongside the slain man's disgruntled partner, Henry Oak (Ray Liotta). Together, these scruffy, hard-edged Detroit cops break protocol and all else in bringing the killer(s) to justice.\n What reads as a third-string plotline to some retread cop show pilot, unfurls as something much deeper. "Narc" is a meditation on ethics, love, racism and other weighty issues. The flick also boasts the finest performances of either Patric or Liotta's already impressive careers. This mark of quality extends well beyond the film itself. \n The DVD is loaded with cool, informative special features. Writer/director Joe Carnahan and his skillful editor, John Gilroy, team-up for a surprisingly light and funny commentary track given the movie's dark nature. Additionally, there's a collection of short yet interesting documentaries aptly titled "Making the Deal," "Shooting Up" and "The Visual Trip." Though, my favorite is entitled "The Friedkin Connection," in which prolific '70s auteur William Friedkin praises and draws parallels between "Narc" and his own seminal cop flicks i.e. "The French Connection" and "To Live and Die in L.A."\n "Narc" is a film that both embraces and subverts its well-worn genre conventions. Fans of police yarns such as Friedkin's aforementioned flicks, as well as "Serpico," "Heat," "L.A. Confidential" or TV's "The Shield," would be well-advised to seek out this arresting piece of cinema.
(06/19/03 4:00am)
"Old School" desperately wants to be "National Lampoon's Animal House," and it will go to any lengths to elicit a full-on, piss-your-pants laugh attack to prove it. Rightfully, it was a big hit in theaters. With a new unrated DVD, it's that much better. Well mostly, viewers are "treated" to additional helpings of Will Ferrell's bare ass.\nLuke Wilson headlines as the likeably mellow Mitch. After returning home from a business trip, he's startled to find his girlfriend (Juliette Lewis) hosting an orgy in their bedroom. Soon thereafter, he moves into a new pad bordering the local college campus. Alongside buddies, Frank (Ferrell) and Beanie (Vince Vaughn), Mitch conspires to foil a bullshit zoning clause brought about by their former object of scorn and the university's current Dean (Jeremy Piven). Their solution: start a multigenerational fraternity. Unsurprisingly, drunken hijinks and hilarity ensue.\nSo, the flick's plot is thinner than Lara Flynn Boyle on Dexatrim. But comedies such as "Old School" succeed primarily through casting -- and man, what a cast. The DVD works much in the same way. Wilson, Ferrell and Vaughn, alongside co-writer/director Todd Phillips, participate actively on the disc. \nThe aforementioned are all featured on a rather entertaining commentary track dominated by a self-deprecatingly self-involved Wilson and a prototypically goofy Ferrell. Strangely, Vaughn barely registers, and he's best known for his loud-mouthed shtick. Everyone also takes part in an "Inside the Actors Studio" spoof where Ferrell reprises his James Lipton caricature ala "SNL." Much like its source material, the skit's damned funny. Lastly, there's eight deleted scenes, most of which are hilariously propelled by Vaughn's smooth-talking jackass persona.\n"Old School" is the best comedy I've seen this year. As such, the DVD is the perfect complement to a night of couch-bound drinking with the buddies.
(06/19/03 4:00am)
Perry Gilliam is a director of immense skill. Churning out works of sheer brilliance ("Brazil," "The Fisher King" and "12 Monkeys"), or at the very least flawed yet fascinating filmmaking i.e. "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" -- the man's a master (albeit a strange one) of his field. That's part of what's so disheartening about "Lost in La Mancha," the documentary chronicling the rise and fall of Gilliam's Don Quixote-themed dream project.\nWhat presumably began as DVD filler evolved into a cautionary tale of vision and ambition gone awry. Gilliam arrived in Madrid in August 2000 to lens his now unfinished rendition of the Cervantes classic. "The Man Who Killed Don Quixote" would have starred French film luminary Jean Rochefort as the titular character and co-starred Johnny Depp as a modern man transplanted in both time and place, who finds himself acting as a Sancho Panza-esque figure. Glimpses of what the film might have been are seen through storyboards and dailies.\n"La Mancha" serves as an oftentimes fascinating and revealing glimpse behind the filmmaking process. Gilliam's stumbling blocks weren't of his own making, budgetary and scheduling conflicts plagued the production from the get-go. Also, extras weren't properly rehearsed by fellow crewmembers, F-16 fighter planes frequently flew overhead ruining take after take, a flash flood destroyed sets and equipment and Rochefort suffered two herniated discs -- removing him from filming entirely.\nThe mood is lightened by screen tests taken of three obese Spaniards auditioning for the roles of confrontational giants and by Gilliam's obscenity-laden tantrums (rightful, though they might've been). But it would take world's more than a few sets of cellulite man-boobies and some interspersed "fuck's" to brighten these proceedings. Sure, "La Mancha" is informative, but it's depressing as all hell. Essentially, viewers are watching one man's dream flushed down the toilet.\nNot as funny as Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine," nor as heartfelt as Steve James's "Hoop Dreams" and certainly not as bizarrely intriguing as Terry Zwigoff's "Crumb," "Lost in La Mancha" is a mediocre documentary concerning what could've been a great film.
(06/19/03 12:19am)
Perry Gilliam is a director of immense skill. Churning out works of sheer brilliance ("Brazil," "The Fisher King" and "12 Monkeys"), or at the very least flawed yet fascinating filmmaking i.e. "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" -- the man's a master (albeit a strange one) of his field. That's part of what's so disheartening about "Lost in La Mancha," the documentary chronicling the rise and fall of Gilliam's Don Quixote-themed dream project.\nWhat presumably began as DVD filler evolved into a cautionary tale of vision and ambition gone awry. Gilliam arrived in Madrid in August 2000 to lens his now unfinished rendition of the Cervantes classic. "The Man Who Killed Don Quixote" would have starred French film luminary Jean Rochefort as the titular character and co-starred Johnny Depp as a modern man transplanted in both time and place, who finds himself acting as a Sancho Panza-esque figure. Glimpses of what the film might have been are seen through storyboards and dailies.\n"La Mancha" serves as an oftentimes fascinating and revealing glimpse behind the filmmaking process. Gilliam's stumbling blocks weren't of his own making, budgetary and scheduling conflicts plagued the production from the get-go. Also, extras weren't properly rehearsed by fellow crewmembers, F-16 fighter planes frequently flew overhead ruining take after take, a flash flood destroyed sets and equipment and Rochefort suffered two herniated discs -- removing him from filming entirely.\nThe mood is lightened by screen tests taken of three obese Spaniards auditioning for the roles of confrontational giants and by Gilliam's obscenity-laden tantrums (rightful, though they might've been). But it would take world's more than a few sets of cellulite man-boobies and some interspersed "fuck's" to brighten these proceedings. Sure, "La Mancha" is informative, but it's depressing as all hell. Essentially, viewers are watching one man's dream flushed down the toilet.\nNot as funny as Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine," nor as heartfelt as Steve James's "Hoop Dreams" and certainly not as bizarrely intriguing as Terry Zwigoff's "Crumb," "Lost in La Mancha" is a mediocre documentary concerning what could've been a great film.
(06/19/03 12:16am)
"Old School" desperately wants to be "National Lampoon's Animal House," and it will go to any lengths to elicit a full-on, piss-your-pants laugh attack to prove it. Rightfully, it was a big hit in theaters. With a new unrated DVD, it's that much better. Well mostly, viewers are "treated" to additional helpings of Will Ferrell's bare ass.\nLuke Wilson headlines as the likeably mellow Mitch. After returning home from a business trip, he's startled to find his girlfriend (Juliette Lewis) hosting an orgy in their bedroom. Soon thereafter, he moves into a new pad bordering the local college campus. Alongside buddies, Frank (Ferrell) and Beanie (Vince Vaughn), Mitch conspires to foil a bullshit zoning clause brought about by their former object of scorn and the university's current Dean (Jeremy Piven). Their solution: start a multigenerational fraternity. Unsurprisingly, drunken hijinks and hilarity ensue.\nSo, the flick's plot is thinner than Lara Flynn Boyle on Dexatrim. But comedies such as "Old School" succeed primarily through casting -- and man, what a cast. The DVD works much in the same way. Wilson, Ferrell and Vaughn, alongside co-writer/director Todd Phillips, participate actively on the disc. \nThe aforementioned are all featured on a rather entertaining commentary track dominated by a self-deprecatingly self-involved Wilson and a prototypically goofy Ferrell. Strangely, Vaughn barely registers, and he's best known for his loud-mouthed shtick. Everyone also takes part in an "Inside the Actors Studio" spoof where Ferrell reprises his James Lipton caricature ala "SNL." Much like its source material, the skit's damned funny. Lastly, there's eight deleted scenes, most of which are hilariously propelled by Vaughn's smooth-talking jackass persona.\n"Old School" is the best comedy I've seen this year. As such, the DVD is the perfect complement to a night of couch-bound drinking with the buddies.
(06/12/03 4:00am)
Warren Schmidt, as played by Jack Nicholson in a career redefining performance, is a loser. "About Schmidt," the highly acclaimed yet commercially maligned glimpse into this Midwesterner's scorched psyche is not.\nAs co-written and directed by Alexander Payne -- one of our generation's greatest satirists -- the film skewers the elders of Middle America in a fashion akin to his treatment of high schoolers in the equally entertaining "Election." Here, his focus remains on Schmidt (hence the title), a recently retired/widowed insurance actuary Winnebago-ing across the country to attend, and possibly even put to a hault, the impending nuptials of his daughter (Hope Davis) to a mullet-headed numbskull (Dermot Mulroney). \n"Schmidt" is rife with humor via the spot-on performances of Nicholson, Mulroney and Kathy Bates, as the groom's sexually aggressive mother. Though, it also has its fair-share of heartache, as both viewers and Schmidt himself realize that his is a life unfulfilled.\nUnfortunately, the DVD can't stack up to the flick itself. The transfer and sound mix are adequate, as a film of this sort doesn't demand flashier treatment. Viewers are treated to a healthy selection of deleted scenes (most of which are pretty good), along with lengthy text explaining each exclusion. Lastly, there's a small collection of short films/alternate credit sequences commissioned by Payne. These have little to nothing to do with the movie and come off as rather amateurish. Sadly, there's no commentary, which is a shame -- a track shared by Nicholson, Payne and co-writer Jim Taylor would've been killer. Despite a lack of features, this funny flick about one sad bastard should be sought on DVD.
