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(06/12/03 4:00am)
"Better Luck Tomorrow" is a curious and occasionally disturbing little gem. Following its 2002 Sundance Film Festival premiere, Roger Ebert rightfully defended the film when a fellow critic (also white) labeled it an "immoral" representation of Asian Americans. While the movie, which boasts an Asian American director and cast, doesn't present the group in the greatest of lights, it's certainly not immoral.\nDirector Justin Lin's breakthrough is a hodge-podge of Larry Clark's seedily pseudo-pornographic flicks i.e. "Kids" and "Bully," an after school special and Scorsese's "Goodfellas," only transplanted to Orange County, Calif., and featuring a small sect of stereotypically overachieving Asian American teenagers as its heroes and heavies.\n"BLT" focuses on Ben (Parry Shen, underplaying things nicely), a seemingly together honor student who busies himself with an excess of extracurricular activities: academic decathlon, JV basketball, maintaining his perfect GPA, perfecting his SAT score, volunteering as a Spanish translator at a nearby hospital, working at a mall-based hot dog stand and… the occasional bout of grand larceny.\nWhen the mundane nature of Ben's suburban lifestyle wears thin, he unites with Virgil (Jason J. Tobin, who's essentially an Asian Corey Haim, but with greater range), his goofy best friend, Han (Sung Kang, so cool, he's like the bastard lovechild of James Dean and Chow Yun-Fat), Virgil's tight-lipped tough of a cousin and Daric (Roger Fan), the only kid in school with more academic and extracurricular clout than himself, to form a "Chinese Mafia" of sorts. Together, the group schemes, smokes, snorts, screws and stomps its way through the rest of the flick.\nWhile stylish (slow-mos, speed-ups and 360-degree camera moves are the norm) and often equal parts sexy, scary and funny, "BLT" is a pissed-off film with an awful lot to say. Lin, who not only directed, but also co-wrote, produced, edited and co-stars, embraces stereotypes and later subverts them in his deconstruction of the "model minority." Despite the occasional snag (a boom mic is clearly seen in one of the film's pivotal sequences), "Better Luck Tomorrow" is an incendiary cinematic achievement that will spur thought and conversation, which also announces Lin as a singular voice to be reckoned with.
(06/12/03 4:00am)
The Deftones have set themselves apart from white bread nu-metal contemporaries Staind and Linkin Park by embracing art-rock conventions established by such acts as the Cure and My Bloody Valentine back in the '80s. This experimentation is a welcome change from the cookie-cutter alt-rock heard on modern radio, but also tends to jumble the overall soundscape of the band's records.\nPicking up where the beautiful metal excess of White Pony left off, the self-titled album doesn't so much expand the group's sound as it does tweak it. It's as if these guys are riding their own trench coattails, only this time, the volume is cranked to 11. \nThe Deftones most often succeed when straying from conventionality; "Lucky You" and "Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event" edge the band much closer to its art-rock forbearers. Though, the more traditional, anthemic pop of lead single "Minerva" also rocks, and if ever there was a tune just begging to be unleashed in stadiums across the country, this would be it. The Deftones stumble when grasping onto staples of the metal genre. Songs such as "When Girls Telephone Boys" are too damned loud, grating and meat-headedly stupid. A band as skillful and promising as the Deftones should be above such machismo bullshit posturing, albeit intermittent. Perhaps at 21, I'm just too old.
(06/12/03 1:53am)
The Deftones have set themselves apart from white bread nu-metal contemporaries Staind and Linkin Park by embracing art-rock conventions established by such acts as the Cure and My Bloody Valentine back in the '80s. This experimentation is a welcome change from the cookie-cutter alt-rock heard on modern radio, but also tends to jumble the overall soundscape of the band's records.\nPicking up where the beautiful metal excess of White Pony left off, the self-titled album doesn't so much expand the group's sound as it does tweak it. It's as if these guys are riding their own trench coattails, only this time, the volume is cranked to 11. \nThe Deftones most often succeed when straying from conventionality; "Lucky You" and "Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event" edge the band much closer to its art-rock forbearers. Though, the more traditional, anthemic pop of lead single "Minerva" also rocks, and if ever there was a tune just begging to be unleashed in stadiums across the country, this would be it. The Deftones stumble when grasping onto staples of the metal genre. Songs such as "When Girls Telephone Boys" are too damned loud, grating and meat-headedly stupid. A band as skillful and promising as the Deftones should be above such machismo bullshit posturing, albeit intermittent. Perhaps at 21, I'm just too old.
(06/12/03 1:10am)
"Better Luck Tomorrow" is a curious and occasionally disturbing little gem. Following its 2002 Sundance Film Festival premiere, Roger Ebert rightfully defended the film when a fellow critic (also white) labeled it an "immoral" representation of Asian Americans. While the movie, which boasts an Asian American director and cast, doesn't present the group in the greatest of lights, it's certainly not immoral.\nDirector Justin Lin's breakthrough is a hodge-podge of Larry Clark's seedily pseudo-pornographic flicks i.e. "Kids" and "Bully," an after school special and Scorsese's "Goodfellas," only transplanted to Orange County, Calif., and featuring a small sect of stereotypically overachieving Asian American teenagers as its heroes and heavies.\n"BLT" focuses on Ben (Parry Shen, underplaying things nicely), a seemingly together honor student who busies himself with an excess of extracurricular activities: academic decathlon, JV basketball, maintaining his perfect GPA, perfecting his SAT score, volunteering as a Spanish translator at a nearby hospital, working at a mall-based hot dog stand and… the occasional bout of grand larceny.\nWhen the mundane nature of Ben's suburban lifestyle wears thin, he unites with Virgil (Jason J. Tobin, who's essentially an Asian Corey Haim, but with greater range), his goofy best friend, Han (Sung Kang, so cool, he's like the bastard lovechild of James Dean and Chow Yun-Fat), Virgil's tight-lipped tough of a cousin and Daric (Roger Fan), the only kid in school with more academic and extracurricular clout than himself, to form a "Chinese Mafia" of sorts. Together, the group schemes, smokes, snorts, screws and stomps its way through the rest of the flick.\nWhile stylish (slow-mos, speed-ups and 360-degree camera moves are the norm) and often equal parts sexy, scary and funny, "BLT" is a pissed-off film with an awful lot to say. Lin, who not only directed, but also co-wrote, produced, edited and co-stars, embraces stereotypes and later subverts them in his deconstruction of the "model minority." Despite the occasional snag (a boom mic is clearly seen in one of the film's pivotal sequences), "Better Luck Tomorrow" is an incendiary cinematic achievement that will spur thought and conversation, which also announces Lin as a singular voice to be reckoned with.
(06/12/03 1:02am)
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.
(06/05/03 5:39am)
"The Italian Job" serves as yet another example in the longstanding trend of Hollywood bastardizing foreign films of merit. The 1969 original is a national treasure in its native England. This Americanization is more akin to a McDonald's hamburger. Sure, it goes down easily enough, but there's very little substance or nourishment contained within, and in all likelihood, you'll feel bad for having consumed it.\nMark Wahlberg fails to fill the shoes of Michael Caine in the role of Charlie Croker, a cock-sure, young thief on the brink of spearheading his own crew. Accom-panying Croker on his latest heist are snarky second-in-command, Steve Frezelli (Edward Norton), geeky techno whiz, Lyle (Seth Green), half-deaf demolitions expert, Left-Ear (Mos Def), suave ladies/wheelman, Handsome Rob (Jason Statham) and the paternal, ringleader retiree, John Bridger (Donald Sutherland). Their mark: $35 million in gold bricks from a safe housed in a building bordering stretches of scenic Venetian canals (hence the title). \nThe job goes off without a hitch. That is, until Frezelli gets greedy, pulls a gun, offs Bridger and leaves the rest of his accomplices for dead. Flash-forward one year, Croker reassembles the team and enlists the services of Bridger's safecracker daughter, Stella (a comely Charlize Theron), to exact revenge against Frezelli.\nIt would seem I've given a lot away. But as all of this information is clearly gleaned through the trailers and television commercials we've been bombarded by in recent months. Such treachery is not only obvious -- it's tiresome. And that's one of the film's greatest downfalls, if you've seen the commercials you've essentially seen the movie itself. \nThe other huge snag is Wahlberg's turn as leading man. When given the right material (i.e. "Boogie Nights," "Three Kings" and the unabashedly stupid "The Big Hit"), he is perfectly capable of being a captivating or at the very least entertaining onscreen presence. Here, he is a blank slate -- void of the charisma necessary to bed Theron's character nor the brains to mastermind a 7-Eleven stick-up let alone an elaborate sting. He seems to have channeled the acting chops of his "Boogie Nights" alter ego Dirk Diggler for the role of Croker, and the results are not only embarrassing, they're abysmal. Norton doesn't fare much better. He understandably half-asses his little screen time, as he was forced into the picture through contractual servitude. An actor of Norton's class shouldn't be subjected to this, nor should audiences.\nDespite major flaws, "The Italian Job" is not without its strengths. Green, Def and Statham make for a charming trio of foils. The three are so winning in fact that one wishes the movie were centered around them rather than the artist formerly known as Marky Mark. Theron manages to be both sexy and flinty in a rather thankless role. The car chases featuring the oft-advertised Mini Coopers (the only real correlation between this and the original) are slick, but do little to reinvent a genre staple. Lastly, the opening credits exude a collected cool that the rest of the film can only dream of mustering. Luckily, "The Italian Job" unfurls quickly as an exercise in mindless, soulless, commercialized, fast food cinema. It's not a bad film per se, just a thoroughly mediocre one.
(06/05/03 5:36am)
Sorry. That's all I've really got left to say. A few weeks ago we ran a feature on the Tuesday Concert Series in People's Park. Included within the article were some disparaging remarks directed towards inhabitants of the Kirkwood staple. \nMe, with my firmly established yet highly detatched sense of irony, found the remarks funny at first. Upon going to press, I realized that I'd made a huge error in judgment. In wake of the story running, I've been bombarded by outcries of a few park regulars. And rightfully so, the comments, while true to some circles, had no place in a news article. Had the piece been a review, the writer would've been more than welcome to include his societal commentary. As it was not. Such remarks (while not libelous were certainly in bad taste) should have been stricken. In my pursuit to make the Weekend an edgier, more forward-thinking magazine, I actually took us back a few pegs.\nWe look simply to entertain our audience, not offend or besmirch them. Comments relating to a lack of bodily hygiene or references to "gutter trash" (such as those found in "Concert series redefines perceptions of People's Park") don't entertain, they simply foster stereotypes and demoralize valued members of our community. This, in fact, is not our goal. To those hurt by such remarks, you have my sincerest apologies.\nOpinions are like assholes, everyone's got one. While my writer would have been best served by keeping his views to himself in this particular scenario, we welcome the views of you, our valued readership. Good or bad, we want to hear what you think of the magazine. After all, it's the reader who keeps this publication running -- none of us would be here if it weren't for your interest. \nIf you dug Jake Bilinski's review of "The Shape of Things," shoot him an e-mail, let him know. If you thought Mike Tapscott's review of the most recent Apes album sucked (which it didn't, but I'm grasping for a hypothetical scenario), let him know. If you think I look like a complete and utter douchebag in my mug shot, e-mail me, and in all likelihood, I'll come to your house with a baseball bat -- just kidding. \nThe fact of the matter is, we love to hear from our readers. We thrive and improve through your criticism and praise. Often, we're so busy skewering others, that when the gun's turned on us, it's weird -- weird but useful. If you want to comment about anything seen in this or any other issue, please e-mail us at weekend@idsnews.com. Just do so in a timely fashion -- it's far more difficult to remedy mistakes properly if you contact us three weeks after the fact. \nPeople's Park regulars, if you see me passing through your hallowed grounds, stop me, talk to me, bum a cigarette or pocket change off me, offer me lewd sexual favors or don't. Just please don't hit me... I look goofy enough as it is. I won't pass judgment upon you and hopefully you'll extend me the same courtesy. In all likelihood, you won't want to talk to me. As chance would have it, you've probably encountered a bar of soap far more recently than I have.\nDespite the flowery writing seen thus far, we still haven't lost our edge. Look for us to continue pushing the envelope. Mores and societal conventions be damned, both today and in future issues as well. We'll strive to be considerate and fair, but we will not resort to pandering -- we will not be neutered. Take this for what you will. If it troubles you, let me know. Something may be done about it and something may not, but at least we're communicating.\nHippies. Bums. Wiggers. Niggers. Rednecks. Spics. Kikes. Fags. Dykes. Micks. Polacks. Krauts. Limeys. Wops. Chinks. Slants. Beaners. 'Ricans. Yuppies. Dorks. We're all the same person. Sterotypes such as these have no place in this magazine, let alone the real world. While the aforementioned article didn't stoop to such racism, classism or general homophobia -- it didn't do a whole lot to deconstruct such preconceptions (albeit lesser ones) either. Here at the Weekend, you're all valued.
(06/05/03 5:33am)
In playing "Return to Castle Wolfenstein: Tides of War," childhood memories of drizzly afternoons spent shooting dastardly Nazis and rabietic hell hounds come to the forefront of my subconscious. \nFamiliarity is key as players once again assume the identity of one-man army B.J. Blaskowitz (whatta name!). To spice things up, gamers are treated to seven all-new, additional levels, in which Blaskowitz finds himself in Egypt gat-blasting hordes of Nazis sporting "Lawrence of Arabia" garb. \nTrue to form, the story is secondary. The primary focus is to aid gamers in blowing off steam by blowing away their Kraut competition. The tools of the trade are prototypical first-person shooter fare with a few bonuses; shotguns (not in the PC version), vast assortments of machine guns, John Woo-esque double pistols, flamethrowers, grenades and rocket launchers are all at your disposal. While it's cool to have so much firepower, it's also a drag while in the midst of a melee -- switching guns can easily get you killed.\nThe graphics, sound effects and gameplay are all top-notch. When zombies explode in a sea of blood and bone each grisly detail is captured in crystal clear pixilated detail. Bullets make differentiating sounds when striking either wood or metal. And the controls can be implemented skillfully within a half hour of first picking up the controller. Despite nostalgic bias and a few minor glitches, "Return to Castle Wolfenstein" is wholly diverting and all-together violent entertainment.
(06/05/03 5:32am)
Two Coen brothers DVDs were released recently. One is an overlooked gem, the other a highly lauded but somewhat over-praised exercise in mania. Both "Miller's Crossing" and "Barton Fink" are welcome additions to the format -- beautiful films that benefit greatly from anamorphic widescreen transfers. As such, if one has only seen the crappy VHS incarnations that were available up until now, or has yet to see these masterworks, they'd be well advised to at least rent both films.\n"Miller's Crossing" (1990) is the tale of Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne), a hard-knuckled Irish gangster who serves as an advisor to mob boss, Leo (Albert Finney). Problems arise as Tom's drinking and gambling habits amass, and Leo takes up with two-timing, femme fatale Verna (Marcia Gay Harden) and her weasel shyster of a brother, Bernie Bernbaum (John Turturro). Meanwhile, rival Italian gangster, Johnny Caspar (Coen Bros. regular Jon Polito) tries to sway loyalties in having bookie Bernbaum clipped. But Reagan, both astutely and heartlessly, plays the sides against one another to keep his hands and whatever shreds of conscious remain clean.\nMany complain that "Miller's" is an overwrought exercise in style over substance. I would have to disagree. While on the surface it's a '30s Prohibition era gangster flick, deep down it's the study of one man's soul. Sure, characters spout prototypically snappy Coen dialogue (i.e. "Take your flunky and dangle.") and action set pieces astound (Finney's Thompson sub-machine gun montage set to "Danny Boy" being the capper). But ultimately, it's as then-cinematographer Barry Sonnenfeld says, "a handsome movie about men in hats."\n"Barton Fink" (1991) was written as a remedy to the writer's block the Coens suffered while penning "Miller's." And it's apparent, rarely has a film been this claustrophobic. Turturro returns as a pretentious '40s playwright commissioned to scribe a "common man"-wrestling wrestling picture -- this, despite knowing next to nothing of the sport and harboring his fair share of contempt for the Average Joe. Essentially, it's an impossible task. \nMuch of the film's atmosphere comes as a result of being shot mostly within Fink's seedy hotel room, sparsely decorated aside from a pin-up of a buxom brunette sitting on the beach. Laughs and thrills arise from supporting characters -- a Louis B. Mayer-esque movie mogul (Michael Lerner, in an Oscar nominated turn), a Faulkner-like lush of a writer ("Frasier" staple John Mahoney) and a loutish galoot (John Goodman) with a dark secret. "Fink" is a slow and oftentimes frustrating film, which ultimately rewards patient viewers in its winning conclusion.\nNeither disc sports many extras -- both contain trailers for either film, as well as one for the Coen's earlier work, "Raising Arizona." "Miller's" has a nice, short Barry Sonnenfeld featurette, and "Fink" has some truly throwaway deleted scenes. Sadly, that's it. The Coen's don't really seem to participate. Ultimately, it will be the films themselves that draw cinephiles to these discs; luckily, they're both worth it.
(06/05/03 4:00am)
Two Coen brothers DVDs were released recently. One is an overlooked gem, the other a highly lauded but somewhat over-praised exercise in mania. Both "Miller's Crossing" and "Barton Fink" are welcome additions to the format -- beautiful films that benefit greatly from anamorphic widescreen transfers. As such, if one has only seen the crappy VHS incarnations that were available up until now, or has yet to see these masterworks, they'd be well advised to at least rent both films.\n"Miller's Crossing" (1990) is the tale of Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne), a hard-knuckled Irish gangster who serves as an advisor to mob boss, Leo (Albert Finney). Problems arise as Tom's drinking and gambling habits amass, and Leo takes up with two-timing, femme fatale Verna (Marcia Gay Harden) and her weasel shyster of a brother, Bernie Bernbaum (John Turturro). Meanwhile, rival Italian gangster, Johnny Caspar (Coen Bros. regular Jon Polito) tries to sway loyalties in having bookie Bernbaum clipped. But Reagan, both astutely and heartlessly, plays the sides against one another to keep his hands and whatever shreds of conscious remain clean.\nMany complain that "Miller's" is an overwrought exercise in style over substance. I would have to disagree. While on the surface it's a '30s Prohibition era gangster flick, deep down it's the study of one man's soul. Sure, characters spout prototypically snappy Coen dialogue (i.e. "Take your flunky and dangle.") and action set pieces astound (Finney's Thompson sub-machine gun montage set to "Danny Boy" being the capper). But ultimately, it's as then-cinematographer Barry Sonnenfeld says, "a handsome movie about men in hats."\n"Barton Fink" (1991) was written as a remedy to the writer's block the Coens suffered while penning "Miller's." And it's apparent, rarely has a film been this claustrophobic. Turturro returns as a pretentious '40s playwright commissioned to scribe a "common man"-wrestling wrestling picture -- this, despite knowing next to nothing of the sport and harboring his fair share of contempt for the Average Joe. Essentially, it's an impossible task. \nMuch of the film's atmosphere comes as a result of being shot mostly within Fink's seedy hotel room, sparsely decorated aside from a pin-up of a buxom brunette sitting on the beach. Laughs and thrills arise from supporting characters -- a Louis B. Mayer-esque movie mogul (Michael Lerner, in an Oscar nominated turn), a Faulkner-like lush of a writer ("Frasier" staple John Mahoney) and a loutish galoot (John Goodman) with a dark secret. "Fink" is a slow and oftentimes frustrating film, which ultimately rewards patient viewers in its winning conclusion.\nNeither disc sports many extras -- both contain trailers for either film, as well as one for the Coen's earlier work, "Raising Arizona." "Miller's" has a nice, short Barry Sonnenfeld featurette, and "Fink" has some truly throwaway deleted scenes. Sadly, that's it. The Coen's don't really seem to participate. Ultimately, it will be the films themselves that draw cinephiles to these discs; luckily, they're both worth it.
(06/05/03 4:00am)
In playing "Return to Castle Wolfenstein: Tides of War," childhood memories of drizzly afternoons spent shooting dastardly Nazis and rabietic hell hounds come to the forefront of my subconscious. \nFamiliarity is key as players once again assume the identity of one-man army B.J. Blaskowitz (whatta name!). To spice things up, gamers are treated to seven all-new, additional levels, in which Blaskowitz finds himself in Egypt gat-blasting hordes of Nazis sporting "Lawrence of Arabia" garb. \nTrue to form, the story is secondary. The primary focus is to aid gamers in blowing off steam by blowing away their Kraut competition. The tools of the trade are prototypical first-person shooter fare with a few bonuses; shotguns (not in the PC version), vast assortments of machine guns, John Woo-esque double pistols, flamethrowers, grenades and rocket launchers are all at your disposal. While it's cool to have so much firepower, it's also a drag while in the midst of a melee -- switching guns can easily get you killed.\nThe graphics, sound effects and gameplay are all top-notch. When zombies explode in a sea of blood and bone each grisly detail is captured in crystal clear pixilated detail. Bullets make differentiating sounds when striking either wood or metal. And the controls can be implemented skillfully within a half hour of first picking up the controller. Despite nostalgic bias and a few minor glitches, "Return to Castle Wolfenstein" is wholly diverting and all-together violent entertainment.
(06/05/03 4:00am)
Sorry. That's all I've really got left to say. A few weeks ago we ran a feature on the Tuesday Concert Series in People's Park. Included within the article were some disparaging remarks directed towards inhabitants of the Kirkwood staple. \nMe, with my firmly established yet highly detatched sense of irony, found the remarks funny at first. Upon going to press, I realized that I'd made a huge error in judgment. In wake of the story running, I've been bombarded by outcries of a few park regulars. And rightfully so, the comments, while true to some circles, had no place in a news article. Had the piece been a review, the writer would've been more than welcome to include his societal commentary. As it was not. Such remarks (while not libelous were certainly in bad taste) should have been stricken. In my pursuit to make the Weekend an edgier, more forward-thinking magazine, I actually took us back a few pegs.\nWe look simply to entertain our audience, not offend or besmirch them. Comments relating to a lack of bodily hygiene or references to "gutter trash" (such as those found in "Concert series redefines perceptions of People's Park") don't entertain, they simply foster stereotypes and demoralize valued members of our community. This, in fact, is not our goal. To those hurt by such remarks, you have my sincerest apologies.\nOpinions are like assholes, everyone's got one. While my writer would have been best served by keeping his views to himself in this particular scenario, we welcome the views of you, our valued readership. Good or bad, we want to hear what you think of the magazine. After all, it's the reader who keeps this publication running -- none of us would be here if it weren't for your interest. \nIf you dug Jake Bilinski's review of "The Shape of Things," shoot him an e-mail, let him know. If you thought Mike Tapscott's review of the most recent Apes album sucked (which it didn't, but I'm grasping for a hypothetical scenario), let him know. If you think I look like a complete and utter douchebag in my mug shot, e-mail me, and in all likelihood, I'll come to your house with a baseball bat -- just kidding. \nThe fact of the matter is, we love to hear from our readers. We thrive and improve through your criticism and praise. Often, we're so busy skewering others, that when the gun's turned on us, it's weird -- weird but useful. If you want to comment about anything seen in this or any other issue, please e-mail us at weekend@idsnews.com. Just do so in a timely fashion -- it's far more difficult to remedy mistakes properly if you contact us three weeks after the fact. \nPeople's Park regulars, if you see me passing through your hallowed grounds, stop me, talk to me, bum a cigarette or pocket change off me, offer me lewd sexual favors or don't. Just please don't hit me... I look goofy enough as it is. I won't pass judgment upon you and hopefully you'll extend me the same courtesy. In all likelihood, you won't want to talk to me. As chance would have it, you've probably encountered a bar of soap far more recently than I have.\nDespite the flowery writing seen thus far, we still haven't lost our edge. Look for us to continue pushing the envelope. Mores and societal conventions be damned, both today and in future issues as well. We'll strive to be considerate and fair, but we will not resort to pandering -- we will not be neutered. Take this for what you will. If it troubles you, let me know. Something may be done about it and something may not, but at least we're communicating.\nHippies. Bums. Wiggers. Niggers. Rednecks. Spics. Kikes. Fags. Dykes. Micks. Polacks. Krauts. Limeys. Wops. Chinks. Slants. Beaners. 'Ricans. Yuppies. Dorks. We're all the same person. Sterotypes such as these have no place in this magazine, let alone the real world. While the aforementioned article didn't stoop to such racism, classism or general homophobia -- it didn't do a whole lot to deconstruct such preconceptions (albeit lesser ones) either. Here at the Weekend, you're all valued.
(06/05/03 4:00am)
"The Italian Job" serves as yet another example in the longstanding trend of Hollywood bastardizing foreign films of merit. The 1969 original is a national treasure in its native England. This Americanization is more akin to a McDonald's hamburger. Sure, it goes down easily enough, but there's very little substance or nourishment contained within, and in all likelihood, you'll feel bad for having consumed it.\nMark Wahlberg fails to fill the shoes of Michael Caine in the role of Charlie Croker, a cock-sure, young thief on the brink of spearheading his own crew. Accom-panying Croker on his latest heist are snarky second-in-command, Steve Frezelli (Edward Norton), geeky techno whiz, Lyle (Seth Green), half-deaf demolitions expert, Left-Ear (Mos Def), suave ladies/wheelman, Handsome Rob (Jason Statham) and the paternal, ringleader retiree, John Bridger (Donald Sutherland). Their mark: $35 million in gold bricks from a safe housed in a building bordering stretches of scenic Venetian canals (hence the title). \nThe job goes off without a hitch. That is, until Frezelli gets greedy, pulls a gun, offs Bridger and leaves the rest of his accomplices for dead. Flash-forward one year, Croker reassembles the team and enlists the services of Bridger's safecracker daughter, Stella (a comely Charlize Theron), to exact revenge against Frezelli.\nIt would seem I've given a lot away. But as all of this information is clearly gleaned through the trailers and television commercials we've been bombarded by in recent months. Such treachery is not only obvious -- it's tiresome. And that's one of the film's greatest downfalls, if you've seen the commercials you've essentially seen the movie itself. \nThe other huge snag is Wahlberg's turn as leading man. When given the right material (i.e. "Boogie Nights," "Three Kings" and the unabashedly stupid "The Big Hit"), he is perfectly capable of being a captivating or at the very least entertaining onscreen presence. Here, he is a blank slate -- void of the charisma necessary to bed Theron's character nor the brains to mastermind a 7-Eleven stick-up let alone an elaborate sting. He seems to have channeled the acting chops of his "Boogie Nights" alter ego Dirk Diggler for the role of Croker, and the results are not only embarrassing, they're abysmal. Norton doesn't fare much better. He understandably half-asses his little screen time, as he was forced into the picture through contractual servitude. An actor of Norton's class shouldn't be subjected to this, nor should audiences.\nDespite major flaws, "The Italian Job" is not without its strengths. Green, Def and Statham make for a charming trio of foils. The three are so winning in fact that one wishes the movie were centered around them rather than the artist formerly known as Marky Mark. Theron manages to be both sexy and flinty in a rather thankless role. The car chases featuring the oft-advertised Mini Coopers (the only real correlation between this and the original) are slick, but do little to reinvent a genre staple. Lastly, the opening credits exude a collected cool that the rest of the film can only dream of mustering. Luckily, "The Italian Job" unfurls quickly as an exercise in mindless, soulless, commercialized, fast food cinema. It's not a bad film per se, just a thoroughly mediocre one.
(05/29/03 4:00am)
Spike Lee's latest joint, "25th Hour," went relatively ignored upon release, which is sad, as it's an amazing film that easily exceeds "Do the Right Thing" (his previous best).\n"25th Hour" tells the tale of Monty Brogan (Edward Norton), a recently convicted drug dealer enjoying his final day of freedom prior to serving a seven-year prison sentence. During this day, he will bid farewell to his good-natured girlfriend, Naturelle (an extremely hot Rosario Dawson), his sweet, sober barkeep of a father (Brian Cox), his childhood chums, Jacob and Frank (Philip Seymour Hoffman and Barry Pepper) and Doyle, the beloved mutt he once rescued.\nControversially shrouded by the memory of Sept. 11 (Frank's apartment overlooks Ground Zero, Monty curses Osama bin Laden during an obscenity-laced tirade against the cultural melting pot that is New York City), "25th Hour" is timely, thought-provoking and heart-wrenching. This mark of quality extends throughout the film -- Pepper and Cox nearly steal the show from a very adept Norton, the script by David Benioff (based on his book) is stellar and the stunning cinematography by Rodrigo Prieto ("Amores Perros") makes for one of Lee's handsomest flicks to date.\nWhile "25th Hour" is great, its DVD leaves a tad to be desired. First off, the theatrical trailer's not included, and that's a real shame as it's a doozy. Most of the deleted scenes are crap, aside from one entitled "Sway," which would've been Lee's most visually dynamic scene in the film. Otherwise, it's a pretty solid disc boasting two strong commentaries by Lee and Benioff, the cool albeit short featurette, "The Evolution of An American Filmmaker" and a sterling THX certified sound and picture transfer. Ignore the backlash, "25th Hour" is one of last year's best flicks and should be sought out now that it's available on DVD.
(05/29/03 4:00am)
When EA released "NBA Street" for PlayStation 2 and GameCube a couple years ago, it ushered in a second renaissance of arcade-esque hoops action in lieu of "Arch Rivals" and "NBA Jam." While those games were justifiably loved, "Street" upped the ante with flashier graphics, better music, funnier voices and all-around cooler gameplay. Now, along comes "NBA Street Vol. 2," and much like with its predecessor, a new era of b-ball balletics has been born.\nGamers will be preoccupied well into fall semester with what "Street 2" has to offer. Modes of play include Street School (nothing more than a tutorial), Pick Up Games, NBA Challenge and Be a Legend, in which you create your own player en route to street ball domination. In playing each mode, gamers amass reward points, which allow them to unlock classic greats (i.e. "Pistol" Pete Maravich, Dr. J, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Michael Jordan circa '85 and '96 and Dominique Wilkins -- among others). Points may also be used to improve created players, unlock classic jerseys or develop new, mind-bogglingly cool moves.\nWhile the game is similar in theme, it's certainly an improvement over the first installment. Character and level renderings are far cleaner, the announcer is less annoying, the music is better (this, despite the presence of Nelly) and the gameplay is faster and more furious than before. With the NBA finals coming to a close, "NBA Street Vol. 2" will give basketball junkies something worthwhile and wholly entertaining to do until next season rolls around.
(05/28/03 11:44pm)
Spike Lee's latest joint, "25th Hour," went relatively ignored upon release, which is sad, as it's an amazing film that easily exceeds "Do the Right Thing" (his previous best).\n"25th Hour" tells the tale of Monty Brogan (Edward Norton), a recently convicted drug dealer enjoying his final day of freedom prior to serving a seven-year prison sentence. During this day, he will bid farewell to his good-natured girlfriend, Naturelle (an extremely hot Rosario Dawson), his sweet, sober barkeep of a father (Brian Cox), his childhood chums, Jacob and Frank (Philip Seymour Hoffman and Barry Pepper) and Doyle, the beloved mutt he once rescued.\nControversially shrouded by the memory of Sept. 11 (Frank's apartment overlooks Ground Zero, Monty curses Osama bin Laden during an obscenity-laced tirade against the cultural melting pot that is New York City), "25th Hour" is timely, thought-provoking and heart-wrenching. This mark of quality extends throughout the film -- Pepper and Cox nearly steal the show from a very adept Norton, the script by David Benioff (based on his book) is stellar and the stunning cinematography by Rodrigo Prieto ("Amores Perros") makes for one of Lee's handsomest flicks to date.\nWhile "25th Hour" is great, its DVD leaves a tad to be desired. First off, the theatrical trailer's not included, and that's a real shame as it's a doozy. Most of the deleted scenes are crap, aside from one entitled "Sway," which would've been Lee's most visually dynamic scene in the film. Otherwise, it's a pretty solid disc boasting two strong commentaries by Lee and Benioff, the cool albeit short featurette, "The Evolution of An American Filmmaker" and a sterling THX certified sound and picture transfer. Ignore the backlash, "25th Hour" is one of last year's best flicks and should be sought out now that it's available on DVD.
(05/28/03 10:59pm)
When EA released "NBA Street" for PlayStation 2 and GameCube a couple years ago, it ushered in a second renaissance of arcade-esque hoops action in lieu of "Arch Rivals" and "NBA Jam." While those games were justifiably loved, "Street" upped the ante with flashier graphics, better music, funnier voices and all-around cooler gameplay. Now, along comes "NBA Street Vol. 2," and much like with its predecessor, a new era of b-ball balletics has been born.\nGamers will be preoccupied well into fall semester with what "Street 2" has to offer. Modes of play include Street School (nothing more than a tutorial), Pick Up Games, NBA Challenge and Be a Legend, in which you create your own player en route to street ball domination. In playing each mode, gamers amass reward points, which allow them to unlock classic greats (i.e. "Pistol" Pete Maravich, Dr. J, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Michael Jordan circa '85 and '96 and Dominique Wilkins -- among others). Points may also be used to improve created players, unlock classic jerseys or develop new, mind-bogglingly cool moves.\nWhile the game is similar in theme, it's certainly an improvement over the first installment. Character and level renderings are far cleaner, the announcer is less annoying, the music is better (this, despite the presence of Nelly) and the gameplay is faster and more furious than before. With the NBA finals coming to a close, "NBA Street Vol. 2" will give basketball junkies something worthwhile and wholly entertaining to do until next season rolls around.
(05/22/03 4:00am)
The Wachowski Brothers have returned four years after the immeasurable success amassed by "The Matrix," with a sequel, "The Matrix Reloaded." While the results are astounding, they pale in comparison to the earth-shattering cool exuded by the original.\n"Reloaded" opens with Neo (Keanu Reeves), Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne), Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) and newly anointed Nebuchadnezzar operator, Link (Harold Perrineau Jr.), landing the aforementioned ship upon the oft-discussed underground city of Zion. While there, viewers are introduced to a host of new characters: Niobe (Jada Pinkett-Smith) a fellow fighter and former flame of Morpheus', her current beau and superior, Commander Lock (Harry Lennix), Link's overprotective wife, Zee (Marvin Gaye's daughter, Nona) and the paternal figurehead of Zion, Councilor Hamann ('70s schlock actor, Anthony Zerbe).\nCritics and viewers alike have complained about the Zion-centered introduction and more extensively about a concurrent "rave"/sex scene. Personally, I feel that seeing people dancing with abandon or making love lends the fantastical world of "The Matrix" a sense of gravitas. Much of the other criticism is justified. Characters philosophize and pontificate endlessly to bookend mesmerizing action sequences. The worst offender is Fishburne's Morpheus—his bloated address to the people of Zion is laughably bad and serves as the bar none worst moment in either "Matrix" flick.\nThe best moments of "Reloaded" occur within the Matrix, much like its predecessor. Here, we're introduced to a cavalcade of interesting new villains; the Euro-trash power duo of the Merovingian and Persephone (a smarmy Lambert Wilson and a stunning Monica Bellucci), a pair of ghostly, dreadlocked, albino twins (Adrian and Neil Rayment) and an amusing onslaught of Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) clones. A new hero also emerges in the form of the Keymaker (Randall Duk Kim), an elderly Asian man who appropriately enough holds the key to mankind's survival.\nVisual delights are also aplenty -- from an astonishing 14-minute freeway chase to a stair-based sword skirmish to the much ballyhooed, and rightfully so, "Burly Brawl," in which Neo battles the hundreds of Agent Smith incarnations. The film's greatest ideologies are also gleaned in the Matrix. Neo has a subsequent encounter with the Oracle (the late, great Gloria Foster) that's quite the humdinger and a later meeting with the self-described Architect (Helmut Bakaitis) that's just too mind-blowingly intriguing to spoil.\nAesthetically, much has improved with this installment. Major kudos go to Moss, who's created the silver screen's toughest, sexiest action heroine to date, and Weaving whose Agent Smith persona is funnier, fresher and more furious than before. Reeves remains the perfect savior -- a take-charge badass when needed, but more often than not just a blank slate. The fights, as choreographed by Hong Kong legend Yuen Woo-Ping, raise the bar on karate cool, as do the stunning special effects supervised by visionary effectsman John Gaeta. \nAnd that's part of the problem. "Reloaded" is like that cheerleader you wanted to date in high school. Sure, it looks great, but ultimately doesn't have much to say. While perhaps "Reloaded" does, it goes about doing it in a rather convoluted manner. Structurally, the movie suffers from its repetitive philosophy-fight-philosophy-fight narrative -- smoother transitions between the two would have done wonders. As is, "The Matrix Reloaded" is an entertaining afternoon at the movies, a semi-intriguing second chapter in what's sure to be a revolutionary trilogy and really, not much more.
(05/22/03 4:00am)
Capatalizing on the rampant success of "The Matrix" and its sequel comes "Enter the Matrix," an inspired yet simultaneously frustrating video game.\nThe game, as "written and directed" by "Matrix" overlords The Wachowski Brothers, serves as a natural extension to the films. Replete with cut scenes and actual cinematics the game is inherently filmic. In many respects this is cool, but it can also be a drawback. Developers rely too heavily on these tricks, as gamers will often watch events unfold as opposed to actually playing through them.\nGamers have the option of playing as either Niobe (Jada Pinkett-Smith) or Ghost (Anthony Wong) -- two peripheral characters from "The Matrix Reloaded." While it's neat that the characters in the game are modeled after and voiced by the actors who played them in the movie, one will often long to play as the likes of Neo (Keanu Reeves), Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) or Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) -- who do nothing more than cameo. One cool feature is differentiated tasks and storylines dependent on character chosen -- Niobe is an expert wheelwoman, while Ghost is a skilled marksman.\nGraphically the game is pretty strong, though character animations are occasionally blocky. The fighting engine, which appropriately enough boasts bullet-time, has a fairly easy learning curve, and serves as a fun means of brutalizing one's opponents. Though, similar games featuring bullet-time i.e. "Max Payne" and "Dead to Rights," are as good if not slightly better than "Enter the Matrix." In many instances the game's a tad too easy, and at others (i.e. taking a chopper down with a single gun à la Steven Seagal) it's too hard. While flawed, "Enter the Matrix" is a trip worth taking.
(05/22/03 1:50am)
Capatalizing on the rampant success of "The Matrix" and its sequel comes "Enter the Matrix," an inspired yet simultaneously frustrating video game.\nThe game, as "written and directed" by "Matrix" overlords The Wachowski Brothers, serves as a natural extension to the films. Replete with cut scenes and actual cinematics the game is inherently filmic. In many respects this is cool, but it can also be a drawback. Developers rely too heavily on these tricks, as gamers will often watch events unfold as opposed to actually playing through them.\nGamers have the option of playing as either Niobe (Jada Pinkett-Smith) or Ghost (Anthony Wong) -- two peripheral characters from "The Matrix Reloaded." While it's neat that the characters in the game are modeled after and voiced by the actors who played them in the movie, one will often long to play as the likes of Neo (Keanu Reeves), Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) or Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) -- who do nothing more than cameo. One cool feature is differentiated tasks and storylines dependent on character chosen -- Niobe is an expert wheelwoman, while Ghost is a skilled marksman.\nGraphically the game is pretty strong, though character animations are occasionally blocky. The fighting engine, which appropriately enough boasts bullet-time, has a fairly easy learning curve, and serves as a fun means of brutalizing one's opponents. Though, similar games featuring bullet-time i.e. "Max Payne" and "Dead to Rights," are as good if not slightly better than "Enter the Matrix." In many instances the game's a tad too easy, and at others (i.e. taking a chopper down with a single gun à la Steven Seagal) it's too hard. While flawed, "Enter the Matrix" is a trip worth taking.
