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(01/16/03 5:00am)
I'm pathetic. I'm a loser. I have failed. I am panicked. I've sold out. I am worthless."\nWelcome to the mind of Charlie Kaufman, folks.\nKaufman is the bizarre yet infinitely talented screenwriter du jour. He returns in both words and presence for his second collaboration with "Being John Malkovich" director Spike Jonze in the equally trippy "Adaptation."\nNicolas Cage headlines the flick as both the neurotic, socially inept Charlie and his dim-witted yet sweet natured twin brother, Donald (who shares writing credit despite being fictitious). Charlie is in the midst of adapting Susan Orleans' book, "The Orchid Thief," following his success with "Malkovich." Unfortunately, the book is a nonlinear piece of nonfiction that's entirely unadaptable. Charlie's writer's block is compounded by Donald's recent success with his dunderheaded novice script entitled "The 3" -- a cheesy thriller that he proudly declares as a "battle between motors and horses, like technology versus horse."\n"Adaptation" playfully bounces between present and past -- even going so far as to show the evolution of man. Much of the film is spent with the divergent twins, but viewers are often treated to Orleans' (Meryl Streep) experiences writing the source material concerning a toothless Florida-based flower breeder by the name of John Laroche (Chris Cooper).\nDespite some of its problems (i.e. a somewhat outlandish third act), "Adaptation" is a staggeringly original seriocomic marvel. Cage gives not one but two excellent performances as Charlie and Donald. Streep toys with her pristine image in a risky role that initially embraces and later subverts her onscreen persona, but the real acting champ of the flick is Cooper. His wiry bundle of heartbreak, hilarity, intelligence and scuzzy sex appeal is a revelation. Ron Livingston and Brian Cox also provide ample support in their respective roles as Charlie's horny agent and a foul-mouthed screenwriting guru. \nAs good as the actors are they'd be nowhere without Kaufman's brilliantly innovative and ultimately very personal script or Jonze's deftly comedic and frequently arresting visuals. This adaptation is a true original.
(01/16/03 5:00am)
Flicks such as "Clerks," "Mallrats," "Chasing Amy," "Dogma" and "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back" established writer/director Kevin Smith as one of the most important and entertaining independent filmmakers of the '90s.\nSmith's works represent our generation better than any of his contemporaries and as such, he's a natural choice to speak at college campuses. With the newly released DVD, "An Evening with Kevin Smith," five of Smith's "lectures" are encapsulated onto two discs running at 3 hours and 45 minutes. The Q-and-A's took place at Clark University, Cornell University, Kent State University, University of Wyoming and our own beloved IU.\nSmith covers a plethora of topics ranging from his brief stint as Prince's videographer to his stance on God. He also discusses homosexuality, the love and history he shares with "hetero-life mates" Jason Mewes, aka Jay, Ben Affleck and producer Scott Mosier and his first sexual encounter with future wife, Jennifer Schwalbach Smith (co-star of "JSBSB"). Other topics include his feuds with fellow auteurs Paul Thomas Anderson and Tim Burton and the unnecessary controversy that shrouded his Catholicism comedy "Dogma" ("The flick had a poop monster for chrissakes!"). \nSmith's funniest anecdote comes at the expense of movie producer Jon Peters (a man who broke into showbiz as Barbara Streisand's hairdresser), whom Smith worked with briefly in attempting to adapt "Superman Lives" (i.e. the death and resurrection of Krypton's favorite son) to the silver screen. He openly mocks Peters' ideas of including a polar bear battle, a gay robotic sidekick and giant spiders (later seen in the Peters-produced debacle "Wild Wild West") to hilarious effect.\nObviously, Silent Bob has picked up a thing or two from working with George Carlin and Chris Rock on his last two pictures, as the guy's hilarious as all hell. Honestly, he's as funny if not funnier than most comedians working today and he's doing it all with spontaneity. "An Evening with Kevin Smith" is a must-have for rabid fans of the New Jersey Chronicles or those who saw Smith last fall and dug what they heard.
(01/16/03 5:00am)
Mike Skinner is the sole member of the critically lauded hip-hop act, the Streets. The lanky Birmingham, England native melds U.K. garage, reggae and beatific faux orchestral strings with his own conversationally sing-song rhyming to a winning effect on his debut, Original Pirate Material. Skinner, only 23-years-old, is a hip-hop scientist and his garage a laboratory. The album personifies youthful exuberance; days getting blasted at the pubs, smoking phat sacks, gorging oneself with junk food and withering away before a Playstation. Though Skinner's rhymes are littered with cockney slang, his themes are universal -- boredom spurs youthful indiscretion. Skinner hits his stride with "The Irony of It All," an argumentative track that manages to one-up Eminem's "Guilty Conscious." Skinner plays both a violent soccer hooligan and a bud-loving engineering student in a biting social satire. Original Pirate Material stands toe-to-toe with the best hip-hop albums of the past year, i.e. the Roots' Phrenology, N.E.R.D.'s In Search Of… and The Eminem Show, and presents Skinner as the most formidable Brit-hop presence since Slick Rick.
(12/12/02 5:32am)
David Gray, a longtime musical mainstay in the United Kingdom, maintained relative obscurity among United States fans. That is, until the release of his 1999 album White Ladder, an instant classic that justifiably went double-platinum stateside.\nWhite Ladder is that rare breed of rock album that is predominantly entertaining from start to finish, propelled by the lovely balladry of "Please Forgive Me," "Babylon" (immensely overplayed, but nonetheless very good), "My Oh My," "This Years Love," "Sail Away" and "Say Hello Wave Goodbye." \nGray's latest, A New Day at Midnight, is quite the opposite. Made in the midst of the passing of Gray's father (to whom the album is dedicated), the enterprise carries a much heavier heart, and is not nearly as romanticized as his breakthrough effort. Sometimes Gray's newly found sense of melancholy pays off ("Easy Way to Cry" and "The Other Side" are very much indicative of this trend), but at other times they simply bog things down in heavy-handed sentiment, i.e. "Knowhere" and "December."\nA New Day at Midnight finds its footing mostly in written collaborations between Gray and his co-producer, an individual known simply as McClune. Beautifully romantic and unabashedly poppy tracks such as "Real Love" and "Be Mine," for which the two share writing credit, come closest to mining the magic of White Ladder.\nElsewhere on the album Gray shines with "Dead in the Water," the most techno-driven of Gray's tried-and-true folk/pop formula on A New Day at Midnight (a trend also reminiscent of White Ladder), and later on "Freedom," a long, lilting lament to the fleeting nature of love. Sure, it's whiney, but few do it better.\nGray should be applauded for venturing out and trying something new with A New Day at Midnight, as opposed to producing "Babylon III." But just because the album is less reliant on digital nuances and somewhat more introspective, doesn't make it better. Fans of Gray would be well advised to give the album a listen -- just because it doesn't measure-up to the masterful White Ladder doesn't mean it's not without its merits. For the uninitiated yet curious, check out White Ladder; it showcases the artist A New Day at Midnight only hints at.
(12/12/02 5:00am)
David Gray, a longtime musical mainstay in the United Kingdom, maintained relative obscurity among United States fans. That is, until the release of his 1999 album White Ladder, an instant classic that justifiably went double-platinum stateside.\nWhite Ladder is that rare breed of rock album that is predominantly entertaining from start to finish, propelled by the lovely balladry of "Please Forgive Me," "Babylon" (immensely overplayed, but nonetheless very good), "My Oh My," "This Years Love," "Sail Away" and "Say Hello Wave Goodbye." \nGray's latest, A New Day at Midnight, is quite the opposite. Made in the midst of the passing of Gray's father (to whom the album is dedicated), the enterprise carries a much heavier heart, and is not nearly as romanticized as his breakthrough effort. Sometimes Gray's newly found sense of melancholy pays off ("Easy Way to Cry" and "The Other Side" are very much indicative of this trend), but at other times they simply bog things down in heavy-handed sentiment, i.e. "Knowhere" and "December."\nA New Day at Midnight finds its footing mostly in written collaborations between Gray and his co-producer, an individual known simply as McClune. Beautifully romantic and unabashedly poppy tracks such as "Real Love" and "Be Mine," for which the two share writing credit, come closest to mining the magic of White Ladder.\nElsewhere on the album Gray shines with "Dead in the Water," the most techno-driven of Gray's tried-and-true folk/pop formula on A New Day at Midnight (a trend also reminiscent of White Ladder), and later on "Freedom," a long, lilting lament to the fleeting nature of love. Sure, it's whiney, but few do it better.\nGray should be applauded for venturing out and trying something new with A New Day at Midnight, as opposed to producing "Babylon III." But just because the album is less reliant on digital nuances and somewhat more introspective, doesn't make it better. Fans of Gray would be well advised to give the album a listen -- just because it doesn't measure-up to the masterful White Ladder doesn't mean it's not without its merits. For the uninitiated yet curious, check out White Ladder; it showcases the artist A New Day at Midnight only hints at.
(11/21/02 6:54am)
Oftentimes when discussing and/or critiquing cinema, many casual filmgoers, and yes, even critics such as myself, overlook the importance of music in relation to the overall enjoyment of a flick.\nModern cinema is nothing without music, and to keep this column concise, I'll focus primarily upon the influence of rock and pop within film. Sound isn't quite as important as the visual, but it's awfully damned close. When used properly, a piece of music can convey emotionally or thematically what not even the deftest of shot selections or an actor at the top of his or her game can in a pivotal scene. \nWith Eminem's big-screen debut in Curtis Hanson's "8 Mile," scoring a $50 million-plus opening, this relationship is more pertinent than ever. Despite being a rapper, Slim Shady is the closest thing many of us have to the modern day incarnation of a bona fide defiant rock star. \nMany of today's most admired auteurs gained their notoriety through impeccable rock selections. Just look at Wes Anderson. In the six years since his brilliant yet unheralded debut, "Bottle Rocket," he has become the college cult filmmaker de jour (yes, even supplanting fanboy favorite Kevin Smith). Serio-comedic gems such as "Rushmore" (1998) and last year's "The Royal Tenenbaums" did wonders in solidifying this reputation, as did his inspired use of mostly British Invasion-era rock. \nI mean, what other filmmaker has used the Rolling Stones better than this guy? Whether it be through the inclusion of "2000 Man" at the climax of "Bottle Rocket," Max Fisher's (Jason Schwartzman) unwavering lust for Miss Cross (Olivia Williams) being conveyed through the muted strings of "I Am Waiting" in "Rushmore," or Richie Tenenbaum (Luke Wilson) and his adoptive sister, Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow) making out in a tent to "She Smiled Sweetly" and "Ruby Tuesday" in "Tenenbaums," Anderson has done much to make Mick, Keith and the rest of the Stones proud. Also, Anderson's use of Elliot Smith's "Needle in the Hay" in "Tenenbaums" and the Kinks' "Nothin' in the World Can Stop Me Worryin'…" in "Rushmore," serve as some of the best implementations of rock in films of the last 10 years, if not of all time.\nThe relationship between rock and film has been cemented most clearly in the works of former Rolling Stone journalist Cameron Crowe, and most especially in his semi-autobiographical flick "Almost Famous" (2000). He's one of the few, if not the only, to score Led Zeppelin tracks for the soundtrack of his film (the use of Zep's "Tangerine" in the waning moments of "Famous" is sheer genius). And rarely has rock fueled cinema in such a direct manner as it did during the sing-along of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" in "Famous" (slightly reminiscent of the equally cool, narrative-breaking, sing-along of Aimee Mann's "Wise Up" from Paul Thomas Anderson's "Magnolia," released one year prior). Or in John Cusack's serenade via boom box of Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" from Crowe's first feature, "Say Anything" (1989). \nAlso, Crowe's film, "Singles" (1992), helped usher in the early '90s wave of Seattle-based grunge music, as it was released within a year of Pearl Jam's Ten and Nirvana's Nevermind -- both seminal works of the genre. The only misstep Crowe's ever made in merging rock and film was to pass Tom Cruise off as a Radiohead fan in "Vanilla Sky" (2001) -- the man's still in braces for chrissakes!\nThe relationship between rock and cinema is a long-standing one. Simon and Garfunkel helped make Mike Nichols' "The Graduate" (1967) what it is today (a cultural milestone, not to mention one of this critic's favorite flicks of all-time), as they both performed and Simon wrote much of that film's music. \nPop maestro Burt Bacharch composed the music for George Roy Hill's classic western "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (1969). Remember folks: this is a man cool enough to later collaborate with geek rock god, Elvis Costello, and to star in not one, not two, but three "Austin Powers" flicks. \nBut the correlation of rock and film has become most prominent in the past 10 years or so. Aside from both Andersons and Crowe, there are numerous other directors who've further forged this relationship. Aussie filmmaker Baz Luhrmann reinvented the big-screen musical (usually a breeding ground for boredom) with last year's surprise hit, "Moulin Rouge," using a template that was distinctly rock. \nAnd just try to imagine Scorsese's best film, "Goodfellas" (1990), without its concluding montage set to Derek and the Dominos' "Layla." Or for that matter, Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction" (1994) minus Chuck Berry's "You Never Can Tell" during that flick's beloved dance number. \nTake it from me, kids. I'm a dude well in the know so far as both music and movies go. After all, I'm the same guy who actually requested to review "Ballistic: Ecks Vs. Sever" this semester and bought a $50 ticket to, and traveled ungodly hours for, a Guns 'N' Roses show. And yes, I'm the same guy who, in his own misdirected leanings as a wannabe filmmaker, hopes to someday shoot a love scene set to either the Stones' "Wild Horses" or Neil Young's "Harvest Moon," or better yet, introduce a flashy black character via Berry's "Brown Eyed Handsome Man." Pretty pretentious, huh? \nDespite my own sordid idiocies, I think I've really stumbled onto something with this (probably obvious) correlation between rock and film. If you haven't seen the aforementioned flicks, what are you doing? Rent, borrow, rape and pillage -- do what you must to see these cultural artifacts of the none-too-distant past. You'll be cooler for having done so, and that in essence, that's what both film and rock are all about.
(11/21/02 5:00am)
Oftentimes when discussing and/or critiquing cinema, many casual filmgoers, and yes, even critics such as myself, overlook the importance of music in relation to the overall enjoyment of a flick.\nModern cinema is nothing without music, and to keep this column concise, I'll focus primarily upon the influence of rock and pop within film. Sound isn't quite as important as the visual, but it's awfully damned close. When used properly, a piece of music can convey emotionally or thematically what not even the deftest of shot selections or an actor at the top of his or her game can in a pivotal scene. \nWith Eminem's big-screen debut in Curtis Hanson's "8 Mile," scoring a $50 million-plus opening, this relationship is more pertinent than ever. Despite being a rapper, Slim Shady is the closest thing many of us have to the modern day incarnation of a bona fide defiant rock star. \nMany of today's most admired auteurs gained their notoriety through impeccable rock selections. Just look at Wes Anderson. In the six years since his brilliant yet unheralded debut, "Bottle Rocket," he has become the college cult filmmaker de jour (yes, even supplanting fanboy favorite Kevin Smith). Serio-comedic gems such as "Rushmore" (1998) and last year's "The Royal Tenenbaums" did wonders in solidifying this reputation, as did his inspired use of mostly British Invasion-era rock. \nI mean, what other filmmaker has used the Rolling Stones better than this guy? Whether it be through the inclusion of "2000 Man" at the climax of "Bottle Rocket," Max Fisher's (Jason Schwartzman) unwavering lust for Miss Cross (Olivia Williams) being conveyed through the muted strings of "I Am Waiting" in "Rushmore," or Richie Tenenbaum (Luke Wilson) and his adoptive sister, Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow) making out in a tent to "She Smiled Sweetly" and "Ruby Tuesday" in "Tenenbaums," Anderson has done much to make Mick, Keith and the rest of the Stones proud. Also, Anderson's use of Elliot Smith's "Needle in the Hay" in "Tenenbaums" and the Kinks' "Nothin' in the World Can Stop Me Worryin'…" in "Rushmore," serve as some of the best implementations of rock in films of the last 10 years, if not of all time.\nThe relationship between rock and film has been cemented most clearly in the works of former Rolling Stone journalist Cameron Crowe, and most especially in his semi-autobiographical flick "Almost Famous" (2000). He's one of the few, if not the only, to score Led Zeppelin tracks for the soundtrack of his film (the use of Zep's "Tangerine" in the waning moments of "Famous" is sheer genius). And rarely has rock fueled cinema in such a direct manner as it did during the sing-along of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" in "Famous" (slightly reminiscent of the equally cool, narrative-breaking, sing-along of Aimee Mann's "Wise Up" from Paul Thomas Anderson's "Magnolia," released one year prior). Or in John Cusack's serenade via boom box of Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" from Crowe's first feature, "Say Anything" (1989). \nAlso, Crowe's film, "Singles" (1992), helped usher in the early '90s wave of Seattle-based grunge music, as it was released within a year of Pearl Jam's Ten and Nirvana's Nevermind -- both seminal works of the genre. The only misstep Crowe's ever made in merging rock and film was to pass Tom Cruise off as a Radiohead fan in "Vanilla Sky" (2001) -- the man's still in braces for chrissakes!\nThe relationship between rock and cinema is a long-standing one. Simon and Garfunkel helped make Mike Nichols' "The Graduate" (1967) what it is today (a cultural milestone, not to mention one of this critic's favorite flicks of all-time), as they both performed and Simon wrote much of that film's music. \nPop maestro Burt Bacharch composed the music for George Roy Hill's classic western "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (1969). Remember folks: this is a man cool enough to later collaborate with geek rock god, Elvis Costello, and to star in not one, not two, but three "Austin Powers" flicks. \nBut the correlation of rock and film has become most prominent in the past 10 years or so. Aside from both Andersons and Crowe, there are numerous other directors who've further forged this relationship. Aussie filmmaker Baz Luhrmann reinvented the big-screen musical (usually a breeding ground for boredom) with last year's surprise hit, "Moulin Rouge," using a template that was distinctly rock. \nAnd just try to imagine Scorsese's best film, "Goodfellas" (1990), without its concluding montage set to Derek and the Dominos' "Layla." Or for that matter, Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction" (1994) minus Chuck Berry's "You Never Can Tell" during that flick's beloved dance number. \nTake it from me, kids. I'm a dude well in the know so far as both music and movies go. After all, I'm the same guy who actually requested to review "Ballistic: Ecks Vs. Sever" this semester and bought a $50 ticket to, and traveled ungodly hours for, a Guns 'N' Roses show. And yes, I'm the same guy who, in his own misdirected leanings as a wannabe filmmaker, hopes to someday shoot a love scene set to either the Stones' "Wild Horses" or Neil Young's "Harvest Moon," or better yet, introduce a flashy black character via Berry's "Brown Eyed Handsome Man." Pretty pretentious, huh? \nDespite my own sordid idiocies, I think I've really stumbled onto something with this (probably obvious) correlation between rock and film. If you haven't seen the aforementioned flicks, what are you doing? Rent, borrow, rape and pillage -- do what you must to see these cultural artifacts of the none-too-distant past. You'll be cooler for having done so, and that in essence, that's what both film and rock are all about.
(11/14/02 5:32am)
Sam Raimi's "Spider-Man" was released amid a sea of buzz this past May, following hot on the heels of Bryan Singer's "X-Men" -- both adapted from popular Marvel Comics. "X-Men" changed the company's cards, and "Spider-Man" blew them into another stratosphere, easily becoming the summer's most financially successful film. \nTobey Maguire headlines as Peter Parker/Spider-Man. Maguire, based on previously-inhabited dorky roles in "Wonder Boys" and "Pleasantville" and exhaustive pre-production workouts, is an ideal choice to fill-out the webhead's tights.\nWillem Dafoe co-stars as Spidey's nemesis, Norman Osborne/The Green Goblin, the scientist father of Parker's school chum, Harry ("Freaks and Geeks" alum James Franco) and inevitable harasser of Parker's two lady loves -- girl-next-door Mary Jane Watson (the very cute Kirsten Dunst) and his sweet-natured Aunt May (Rosemary Harris). Dafoe is excellent in the film, tackling the role of the Goblin much like he would one of his more serious roles. Playing opposite Maguire, there is an interesting dichotomy established between each man's alter ego and their positions as both superhero and super villain. \nAs lensed by Raimi, the film is wonderfully stylized, but never to the heights of his best work, "Evil Dead II," and is thematically reminiscent of Richard Donner's "Superman," with an hour dedicated solely to Spider-Man's origin story.\nThe DVDs boast a wide array of extras both cool (the documentary "Spider-Man: The Mythology of the 21st Century," featuring key comic contributors Stan Lee, Todd McFarlane and both John Romita Jr. and Sr.; and "Weaving the Web: Subtitled Factoids," which plays alongside the film like "Pop-Up Video") and lame (PR specials from HBO and E! and the Chad Kroeger music video "Hero").\nDisc one also sports two commentary tracks: the first features Raimi, co-producer Grant Curtis (i.e. Raimi's lackey), Dunst (who's kind of dumb) and producer Laura Ziskin (reminiscent of someone's annoying mother); the second is hosted by special-effects whiz John Dykstra and his crew. Raimi is the primary bright spot on the first track, as he recounts taunting his brother, and Dykstra and Co. enliven their track with plenty of info about the comic. (What do you expect? These guys are dorks.) \nIf you were one of the few who missed "Spider-Man" during its theatrical release, I'd highly recommend you check out the newly released two-disc widescreen special edition. If you've already seen it, pick these discs up. While not perfect, it's a solid flick.
(11/14/02 5:19am)
This Mexican gem, which in English translates to "And Your Mother Too," accounts the sexual goings-on of two immensely different friends. Many cineastes missed this bold masterwork during its limited run in Bloomington this past May, but now that it's available on DVD, filmgoers with more adventurous tastes would be well advised to check it out. \n"Y Tu Mamá También" concerns two Mexican teenagers Tenoch (Diego Luna) and Julio (Gael García Bernal), one from a rich family rife with political influence, the other the child of a lower-middle-class single mother. Both are preoccupied with sex in wake of their girlfriends departing for an Italian vacation.\nSummer begins inauspiciously for these foppish lads. They spend their days smoking copious amounts of weed and masturbating atop diving boards at a closed-off country club's swimming pool. That is, until they meet Luisa (Maribel Verdú), the wife of Tenoch's cousin. The two lure this mysterious older woman into a pilgrimage of sorts. Their destination: a fictitious beach the two have dubbed "Heaven's Mouth." Their intent: nothing short of getting laid.\nThe DVD comes up a little short so far as extras are concerned. Viewers are presented with the short film "Me La Debes" by Carlos Cuarón (co-screenwriter and brother of "Y Tu Mamá" director Alfonso Cuarón), which serves as a nice precursor to the film. \nThe disc also boasts three deleted scenes (none of which really add up to anything), a making-of featurette (slightly entertaining with lots of good behind-the-scenes footage) and an audio commentary with Bernal, Luna and Andrés Almeida, who portrays the boys' sexually and chemically curious cohort, Saba. I would imagine the commentary's pretty funny, as the actors seem to be laughing uncontrollably during their respective and/or shared sex scenes, but I can't understand much of what they're saying because it's in Spanish and the track lacks subtitles. \n"Y Tu Mamá También" is a road movie reminiscent of cult literary classics "The Catcher and the Rye" and "On the Road" mingled with soft-core porn and tinged with a distinct Mexican flavor. It's a brilliant coming- of-age film, albeit a slightly smutty one -- good, but not for all tastes.
(11/14/02 5:00am)
Curtis Hanson is a director of immense, eclectic skill. Whether spearheading a hard-boiled, '50s-era cop yarn, a drug-tinged tour of higher academia, or, in the case of his latest film, "8 Mile," the pseudo-biographical mythos surrounding hip hop's foremost purveyor of controversy, he infuses each work with a sense of class and precision.\nEminem capably headlines "8 Mile" as Jimmy Smith Jr., aka Rabbit, the disillusioned punch-press-operator son of an alcoholic, trailer-trash mother (a decent yet slightly miscast Kim Basinger). Rabbit moonlights as a rapper, oftentimes unsuccessfully, amid a seedy club lining Detroit's 8 Mile -- a stretch of road separating the inner city and white suburbs.\nAiding Rabbit in his quest toward hip-hop stardom is his crew: the good-natured Future (an especially solid Mekhi Phifer); the dim-bulb white boy, Cheddar Bob (Evan Jones); the chubby smart-ass, Sol George (Omar Benson Miller) and his skinnier, militant brother, D.J. Iz (De'Angelo Wilson); and the sweetly slutty Alex (Brittany Murphy, in a role tailor-made for her), a model wannabe who sees Rabbit as her ticket out of Detroit.\nLuckily, "8 Mile" far exceeds previous vanity projects in which "musicians" attempted to act, i.e. "Crossroads," "Spice World" and "Cool as Ice," but that's no feat whatsoever, as each of those flicks was complete and utter crap. Eminem's cinematic debut is essentially nothing more than a hip-hop hodgepodge of "Rocky," "Saturday Night Fever," "The Karate Kid" and "Good Will Hunting" -- albeit a rip-off staged with much style. \nHanson's direction is restrained yet duly gritty. Eminem, contrary to producer Brian Grazer's pre-release ballyhoo, does not churn-out an Oscar-worthy performance. And that's not to say he's not good -- he is, but where's the difficulty in playing a role that for all intensive purposes is you? The rapper shines most brightly in scenes with Phifer (the moment in which they rap alongside Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" is priceless), tender exchanges with his younger sister, Lily (Chloe Greenfield) and in the film's waning moments when his rap skills come to the forefront in a hilariously embittered freestyle battle.\n"8 Mile" is entertaining, but at times too slow moving. Fans of Hanson may be disappointed, as the flick doesn't hold a candle to "L.A. Confidential" and "Wonder Boys," and Eminem's fans may leave dissatisfied, as the film's pretty restrained. All in all, "8 Mile" is not bad, but ultimately, it's a pale comparison of what it could've been.
(11/14/02 5:00am)
This Mexican gem, which in English translates to "And Your Mother Too," accounts the sexual goings-on of two immensely different friends. Many cineastes missed this bold masterwork during its limited run in Bloomington this past May, but now that it's available on DVD, filmgoers with more adventurous tastes would be well advised to check it out. \n"Y Tu Mamá También" concerns two Mexican teenagers Tenoch (Diego Luna) and Julio (Gael García Bernal), one from a rich family rife with political influence, the other the child of a lower-middle-class single mother. Both are preoccupied with sex in wake of their girlfriends departing for an Italian vacation.\nSummer begins inauspiciously for these foppish lads. They spend their days smoking copious amounts of weed and masturbating atop diving boards at a closed-off country club's swimming pool. That is, until they meet Luisa (Maribel Verdú), the wife of Tenoch's cousin. The two lure this mysterious older woman into a pilgrimage of sorts. Their destination: a fictitious beach the two have dubbed "Heaven's Mouth." Their intent: nothing short of getting laid.\nThe DVD comes up a little short so far as extras are concerned. Viewers are presented with the short film "Me La Debes" by Carlos Cuarón (co-screenwriter and brother of "Y Tu Mamá" director Alfonso Cuarón), which serves as a nice precursor to the film. \nThe disc also boasts three deleted scenes (none of which really add up to anything), a making-of featurette (slightly entertaining with lots of good behind-the-scenes footage) and an audio commentary with Bernal, Luna and Andrés Almeida, who portrays the boys' sexually and chemically curious cohort, Saba. I would imagine the commentary's pretty funny, as the actors seem to be laughing uncontrollably during their respective and/or shared sex scenes, but I can't understand much of what they're saying because it's in Spanish and the track lacks subtitles. \n"Y Tu Mamá También" is a road movie reminiscent of cult literary classics "The Catcher and the Rye" and "On the Road" mingled with soft-core porn and tinged with a distinct Mexican flavor. It's a brilliant coming- of-age film, albeit a slightly smutty one -- good, but not for all tastes.
(11/14/02 5:00am)
Sam Raimi's "Spider-Man" was released amid a sea of buzz this past May, following hot on the heels of Bryan Singer's "X-Men" -- both adapted from popular Marvel Comics. "X-Men" changed the company's cards, and "Spider-Man" blew them into another stratosphere, easily becoming the summer's most financially successful film. \nTobey Maguire headlines as Peter Parker/Spider-Man. Maguire, based on previously-inhabited dorky roles in "Wonder Boys" and "Pleasantville" and exhaustive pre-production workouts, is an ideal choice to fill-out the webhead's tights.\nWillem Dafoe co-stars as Spidey's nemesis, Norman Osborne/The Green Goblin, the scientist father of Parker's school chum, Harry ("Freaks and Geeks" alum James Franco) and inevitable harasser of Parker's two lady loves -- girl-next-door Mary Jane Watson (the very cute Kirsten Dunst) and his sweet-natured Aunt May (Rosemary Harris). Dafoe is excellent in the film, tackling the role of the Goblin much like he would one of his more serious roles. Playing opposite Maguire, there is an interesting dichotomy established between each man's alter ego and their positions as both superhero and super villain. \nAs lensed by Raimi, the film is wonderfully stylized, but never to the heights of his best work, "Evil Dead II," and is thematically reminiscent of Richard Donner's "Superman," with an hour dedicated solely to Spider-Man's origin story.\nThe DVDs boast a wide array of extras both cool (the documentary "Spider-Man: The Mythology of the 21st Century," featuring key comic contributors Stan Lee, Todd McFarlane and both John Romita Jr. and Sr.; and "Weaving the Web: Subtitled Factoids," which plays alongside the film like "Pop-Up Video") and lame (PR specials from HBO and E! and the Chad Kroeger music video "Hero").\nDisc one also sports two commentary tracks: the first features Raimi, co-producer Grant Curtis (i.e. Raimi's lackey), Dunst (who's kind of dumb) and producer Laura Ziskin (reminiscent of someone's annoying mother); the second is hosted by special-effects whiz John Dykstra and his crew. Raimi is the primary bright spot on the first track, as he recounts taunting his brother, and Dykstra and Co. enliven their track with plenty of info about the comic. (What do you expect? These guys are dorks.) \nIf you were one of the few who missed "Spider-Man" during its theatrical release, I'd highly recommend you check out the newly released two-disc widescreen special edition. If you've already seen it, pick these discs up. While not perfect, it's a solid flick.
(11/14/02 4:44am)
Curtis Hanson is a director of immense, eclectic skill. Whether spearheading a hard-boiled, '50s-era cop yarn, a drug-tinged tour of higher academia, or, in the case of his latest film, "8 Mile," the pseudo-biographical mythos surrounding hip hop's foremost purveyor of controversy, he infuses each work with a sense of class and precision.\nEminem capably headlines "8 Mile" as Jimmy Smith Jr., aka Rabbit, the disillusioned punch-press-operator son of an alcoholic, trailer-trash mother (a decent yet slightly miscast Kim Basinger). Rabbit moonlights as a rapper, oftentimes unsuccessfully, amid a seedy club lining Detroit's 8 Mile -- a stretch of road separating the inner city and white suburbs.\nAiding Rabbit in his quest toward hip-hop stardom is his crew: the good-natured Future (an especially solid Mekhi Phifer); the dim-bulb white boy, Cheddar Bob (Evan Jones); the chubby smart-ass, Sol George (Omar Benson Miller) and his skinnier, militant brother, D.J. Iz (De'Angelo Wilson); and the sweetly slutty Alex (Brittany Murphy, in a role tailor-made for her), a model wannabe who sees Rabbit as her ticket out of Detroit.\nLuckily, "8 Mile" far exceeds previous vanity projects in which "musicians" attempted to act, i.e. "Crossroads," "Spice World" and "Cool as Ice," but that's no feat whatsoever, as each of those flicks was complete and utter crap. Eminem's cinematic debut is essentially nothing more than a hip-hop hodgepodge of "Rocky," "Saturday Night Fever," "The Karate Kid" and "Good Will Hunting" -- albeit a rip-off staged with much style. \nHanson's direction is restrained yet duly gritty. Eminem, contrary to producer Brian Grazer's pre-release ballyhoo, does not churn-out an Oscar-worthy performance. And that's not to say he's not good -- he is, but where's the difficulty in playing a role that for all intensive purposes is you? The rapper shines most brightly in scenes with Phifer (the moment in which they rap alongside Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" is priceless), tender exchanges with his younger sister, Lily (Chloe Greenfield) and in the film's waning moments when his rap skills come to the forefront in a hilariously embittered freestyle battle.\n"8 Mile" is entertaining, but at times too slow moving. Fans of Hanson may be disappointed, as the flick doesn't hold a candle to "L.A. Confidential" and "Wonder Boys," and Eminem's fans may leave dissatisfied, as the film's pretty restrained. All in all, "8 Mile" is not bad, but ultimately, it's a pale comparison of what it could've been.
(11/07/02 6:27am)
Television has gotten a bad rap. Often parents, professors and critics (like me) blame the old boob tube (or better yet, Joan Rivers) for a majority of the world's problems. \nSure, people are dumb, but this isn't a new concept. Just look at the first incarnation of man -- a bunch of Neanderthals scratching their hairy butts, drawing pictures of big-breasted women on cave walls (the equivalent to prehistoric television) and fighting amongst one another. Unfortunately, not a whole lot's changed -- just walk down Frat Row on a Friday or Saturday night. \nBut you can't honestly blame TV for our own sordid peculiarities. For many of us the television served as a third parent -- you had Mom, Dad and Sony. And while many of you have already blamed the 'rents for your numerous idiosyncrasies, don't go blaming the TV -- you'll just need to deal with the fact that you're a tweaked little wiener. Television has gotten worlds better since we were kids, and in many cases, it even supplants cinema in terms of sheer entertainment value nowadays. \nSure, theaters in Bloomington (and most certainly elsewhere) show a fair share of quality flicks, but nobody ever goes and sees them. "The Rules of Attraction," one of the year's best and most audacious films, played here for two weeks. "Igby Goes Down," a charming little indie with a startlingly good performance from Kieran Culkin, proving that the kid can do more than piss the bed à la "Home Alone." And what's he get for his efforts? Ignored during a week-long run in Bloomington.\n"I Am Trying To Break Your Heart," the new documentary about Wilco (one of today's best rock bands), was here for such a short period that I, the consummate movie (and to a lesser extent music) junkie, even missed it. And "Spirited Away," the new film from anime maestro Hayao Miyazaki, was released two weeks ago, but it remained unlisted from the show times until midway through last week.\nWhat are we doing with ourselves that we're too busy to take in culture beyond a six-pack and a Bruce Willis movie (though there's nothing wrong with that, either)? Sure, there's homework, social functions, extracurricular activities and other things of the like. But once you've completed all your homework, and there's nothing else to do, what then? If you've got seven bucks and two hours to spare, go see a movie. And not some hunk of crap like "Sweet Home Alabama" or "My Big Fat (Insert Ethnicity Here) Wedding," but something that's likely to challenge you and won't sugar-coat your already petrified brain, i.e. Paul Schrader's "Auto Focus," Brian De Palma's "Femme Fatale" or Curtis Hanson's "8 Mile."\nIf you don't have the cash, turn on the tube (it won't bite you) and watch something that's truly worthwhile. Avoid "Will and Grace" and other shows of its ilk like syphilis and watch something good. Watch "The Sopranos," "Curb Your Enthusiasm," The Mind of the Married Man," "Six Feet Under," "Boomtown," "The Shield," "24" or yes, even new episodes of "The Simpsons," which began airing last Sunday (and contrary to what your friends say or think, "The Simpsons" is still ingenious). All are good, quality shows that won't squash the remaining brain cells you haven't thrown about like confetti while at IU.\nSo, in summation, watch movies and TV in abundance. Just be certain that the entertainment you seek is truly worth your precious time. If you must succumb to the temptations of romantic comedy, go catch "Punch-Drunk Love." If you've already seen it, see it again. Or better yet, watch "Shipmates," the guilty-pleasure, ship-based, reality dating show in which romance occasionally blossoms (fleeting as it may be), but more often results in a Chuck Norris look-alike karate chopping his date off a dock.\nWhatever you do, don't see "Maid in Manhattan" hitting theaters this Christmas and starring J. Lo's bloated booty and a slumming Ralph Fiennes -- the trailer alone was enough to make me want to hang myself. And for those sadomasochists out there who must see this bile, do yourself a favor and get blitzed on spiked eggnog prior to entering the theater. \nIf you've got the scratch, subscribe to HBO (home of many of the aforementioned shows) and buy a TiVo (you'll actually watch less and much better television). And yes, it's also OK to occasionally pause your "Grand Theft Auto: Vice City" game (if you don't have it, buy it, borrow it or, better yet, steal it), and catch some of the finest comedic nuggets TV has to offer, i.e. "South Park" (new episodes began yesterday), "Insomniac with Dave Attell," "Adult Swim" on the Cartoon Network, "The Bernie Mac Show," "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" and Stu Scott-centered episodes of "SportsCenter."\nAll right folks, I'm stepping down from the pulpit. You can resume listening to your Christina Aguilera album or waiting in line for your tickets to "The Santa Clause 2" or re-watching your "Scorpion King" DVD for the third time this week or whatever the hell it was you were doing before reading this dreck. But just think: you were reading. This, my friends, is progress.
(11/07/02 5:00am)
Television has gotten a bad rap. Often parents, professors and critics (like me) blame the old boob tube (or better yet, Joan Rivers) for a majority of the world's problems. \nSure, people are dumb, but this isn't a new concept. Just look at the first incarnation of man -- a bunch of Neanderthals scratching their hairy butts, drawing pictures of big-breasted women on cave walls (the equivalent to prehistoric television) and fighting amongst one another. Unfortunately, not a whole lot's changed -- just walk down Frat Row on a Friday or Saturday night. \nBut you can't honestly blame TV for our own sordid peculiarities. For many of us the television served as a third parent -- you had Mom, Dad and Sony. And while many of you have already blamed the 'rents for your numerous idiosyncrasies, don't go blaming the TV -- you'll just need to deal with the fact that you're a tweaked little wiener. Television has gotten worlds better since we were kids, and in many cases, it even supplants cinema in terms of sheer entertainment value nowadays. \nSure, theaters in Bloomington (and most certainly elsewhere) show a fair share of quality flicks, but nobody ever goes and sees them. "The Rules of Attraction," one of the year's best and most audacious films, played here for two weeks. "Igby Goes Down," a charming little indie with a startlingly good performance from Kieran Culkin, proving that the kid can do more than piss the bed à la "Home Alone." And what's he get for his efforts? Ignored during a week-long run in Bloomington.\n"I Am Trying To Break Your Heart," the new documentary about Wilco (one of today's best rock bands), was here for such a short period that I, the consummate movie (and to a lesser extent music) junkie, even missed it. And "Spirited Away," the new film from anime maestro Hayao Miyazaki, was released two weeks ago, but it remained unlisted from the show times until midway through last week.\nWhat are we doing with ourselves that we're too busy to take in culture beyond a six-pack and a Bruce Willis movie (though there's nothing wrong with that, either)? Sure, there's homework, social functions, extracurricular activities and other things of the like. But once you've completed all your homework, and there's nothing else to do, what then? If you've got seven bucks and two hours to spare, go see a movie. And not some hunk of crap like "Sweet Home Alabama" or "My Big Fat (Insert Ethnicity Here) Wedding," but something that's likely to challenge you and won't sugar-coat your already petrified brain, i.e. Paul Schrader's "Auto Focus," Brian De Palma's "Femme Fatale" or Curtis Hanson's "8 Mile."\nIf you don't have the cash, turn on the tube (it won't bite you) and watch something that's truly worthwhile. Avoid "Will and Grace" and other shows of its ilk like syphilis and watch something good. Watch "The Sopranos," "Curb Your Enthusiasm," The Mind of the Married Man," "Six Feet Under," "Boomtown," "The Shield," "24" or yes, even new episodes of "The Simpsons," which began airing last Sunday (and contrary to what your friends say or think, "The Simpsons" is still ingenious). All are good, quality shows that won't squash the remaining brain cells you haven't thrown about like confetti while at IU.\nSo, in summation, watch movies and TV in abundance. Just be certain that the entertainment you seek is truly worth your precious time. If you must succumb to the temptations of romantic comedy, go catch "Punch-Drunk Love." If you've already seen it, see it again. Or better yet, watch "Shipmates," the guilty-pleasure, ship-based, reality dating show in which romance occasionally blossoms (fleeting as it may be), but more often results in a Chuck Norris look-alike karate chopping his date off a dock.\nWhatever you do, don't see "Maid in Manhattan" hitting theaters this Christmas and starring J. Lo's bloated booty and a slumming Ralph Fiennes -- the trailer alone was enough to make me want to hang myself. And for those sadomasochists out there who must see this bile, do yourself a favor and get blitzed on spiked eggnog prior to entering the theater. \nIf you've got the scratch, subscribe to HBO (home of many of the aforementioned shows) and buy a TiVo (you'll actually watch less and much better television). And yes, it's also OK to occasionally pause your "Grand Theft Auto: Vice City" game (if you don't have it, buy it, borrow it or, better yet, steal it), and catch some of the finest comedic nuggets TV has to offer, i.e. "South Park" (new episodes began yesterday), "Insomniac with Dave Attell," "Adult Swim" on the Cartoon Network, "The Bernie Mac Show," "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" and Stu Scott-centered episodes of "SportsCenter."\nAll right folks, I'm stepping down from the pulpit. You can resume listening to your Christina Aguilera album or waiting in line for your tickets to "The Santa Clause 2" or re-watching your "Scorpion King" DVD for the third time this week or whatever the hell it was you were doing before reading this dreck. But just think: you were reading. This, my friends, is progress.
(10/31/02 6:56am)
Cristopher Nolan followed up his indie film sensation, "Memento," with "Insomnia," an English-language remake of Erik Skjoldbjærg's widely acclaimed Norwegian thriller of the same title. The film was met with glowing reviews and moderate box-office success, but it didn't seem to garner the universal acceptance that many had anticipated. Those of you who missed "Insomnia" when it hit theaters this past May would be well advised to seek out the recently released DVD. \nAl Pacino gives his best performance in years as Detective Will Dormer (a role originally inhabited by "Good Will Hunting" co-star Stellan Skarsgård). Dormer and his partner, Hap (Hal Hartley regular Martin Donovan), are sent to Alaska to both avoid a scathing internal-affairs investigation back in L.A. and to assist local authorities in solving the murder of a teenage girl.\nWorking alongside Dormer and Hap is a wet-behind-the-ears rookie cop by the name of Ellie Burr (Hilary Swank), who idolizes Dormer yet also questions his ethics throughout the film. Mounting evidence inevitably leads the officers to a creepy author named Walter Finch (Robin Williams). Stress and moral ambiguities eventually take their toll on Dormer, who, in the midst of Alaska's midnight sun, suffers subsequent nights of sleeplessness, which affect both his work and psyche.\nThe "Insomnia" DVD isn't exactly loaded, but most of the extras are pretty worthwhile. Nolan's commentary is especially cool, unlike many other filmmakers; he's chosen to play scenes in the order in which each was shot. Though the film is way out of sequence, this technique is very effective because viewers/listeners are given real insight into the filmmaking process.\nThere are also scene-specific commentaries featuring Swank, production designer Nathan Crowley, editor Dody Dorn, cinematographer Wally Pfister and first-time screenwriter Hillary Seitz. While none of these are bad, they are nowhere near as compelling as Nolan's full-length track.\nFinally, there's "180: A Conversation with Christopher Nolan and Al Pacino," which is cool (especially when Pacino offers vignettes about his work with Lumet and Coppola), but the two occasionally fall into the pattern of blowing pretentious smoke.\n"Insomnia" isn't as revolutionary as "Memento" or even Nolan's debut, "Following," but that's okay -- it's a meticulous film that's far more concerned with emotion and performance. And on that level, it's well worth checking out.
(10/31/02 5:21am)
Paul Thomas Anderson (better known to fans as PTA) has cemented his name as one of the foremost writer/directors of modern cinema, with films such as "Boogie Nights" and "Magnolia." Adam Sandler has cemented his name as one of the most critically maligned, both rightfully ("Little Nicky" and "Mr. Deeds") and unrightfully ("Billy Madison" and "Happy Gilmore"), comedians of modern cinema. Put the two together and what do you get? -- "Punch-Drunk Love," an odd yet utterly captivating serio-comedic hodgepodge of both artists' styles.\nSandler stars as Barry Egan, a lonely and socially maladjusted plunger salesman, whose life is plagued by a barrage of taunts, insults and constant pestering at the hands of his seven bitchy sisters. On the exterior, Barry is a pensive, bland everyman, yet there is anger brewing inside, which is often released in private. Barry, in many spouts of pent-up rage, explodes, demolishing a public restroom, kicking through sliding glass doors and punching holes through walls. His anger is eventually quelled after meeting a lovely, soft-spoken woman named Lena Leonard (Emily Watson, who does wonders in an underwritten role). In an inspired moment of movie magic, the two are instantaneously smitten, and so begins Barry's emotionally taxing and oftentimes bizarre courtship.\nThis is a film far removed from any PTA has ever made. Unlike "Boogie Nights" and "Magnolia," which both hover around or exceed the three-hour running mark, "Punch-Drunk Love" clocks in at 89 minutes. And while all of PTA's works contain comedic elements, this is by far the closest he's come to making a straightforward comedy.\nSandler shines as Barry, a character that allows him to both expand and subvert his onscreen persona. PTA regulars Luis Guzmán and Philip Seymour Hoffman also excel in their brief, respective turns as Barry's good natured business partner and as a threatening, Utah-based, Mormon porno king. But the real stars of this film are PTA and his highly skilled crew. Cinematographer Robert Elswit, who shot all of PTA's previous films, again turns in top-flight work. Sound designer Gary Rydstrom, who usually works for big boys such as Lucas, Spielberg and Cameron, contributes an ingenious mix to a film that is highly reliant on sound -- almost as if it was another character. And musician Jon Brion follows up his magnificent "Magnolia" score with one that's as good, if not better, here.\n"Punch-Drunk Love" is that rare romantic comedy that pulls no punches. It's an odd little movie, but one that will reward viewers with open minds.
(10/31/02 5:00am)
Paul Thomas Anderson (better known to fans as PTA) has cemented his name as one of the foremost writer/directors of modern cinema, with films such as "Boogie Nights" and "Magnolia." Adam Sandler has cemented his name as one of the most critically maligned, both rightfully ("Little Nicky" and "Mr. Deeds") and unrightfully ("Billy Madison" and "Happy Gilmore"), comedians of modern cinema. Put the two together and what do you get? -- "Punch-Drunk Love," an odd yet utterly captivating serio-comedic hodgepodge of both artists' styles.\nSandler stars as Barry Egan, a lonely and socially maladjusted plunger salesman, whose life is plagued by a barrage of taunts, insults and constant pestering at the hands of his seven bitchy sisters. On the exterior, Barry is a pensive, bland everyman, yet there is anger brewing inside, which is often released in private. Barry, in many spouts of pent-up rage, explodes, demolishing a public restroom, kicking through sliding glass doors and punching holes through walls. His anger is eventually quelled after meeting a lovely, soft-spoken woman named Lena Leonard (Emily Watson, who does wonders in an underwritten role). In an inspired moment of movie magic, the two are instantaneously smitten, and so begins Barry's emotionally taxing and oftentimes bizarre courtship.\nThis is a film far removed from any PTA has ever made. Unlike "Boogie Nights" and "Magnolia," which both hover around or exceed the three-hour running mark, "Punch-Drunk Love" clocks in at 89 minutes. And while all of PTA's works contain comedic elements, this is by far the closest he's come to making a straightforward comedy.\nSandler shines as Barry, a character that allows him to both expand and subvert his onscreen persona. PTA regulars Luis Guzmán and Philip Seymour Hoffman also excel in their brief, respective turns as Barry's good natured business partner and as a threatening, Utah-based, Mormon porno king. But the real stars of this film are PTA and his highly skilled crew. Cinematographer Robert Elswit, who shot all of PTA's previous films, again turns in top-flight work. Sound designer Gary Rydstrom, who usually works for big boys such as Lucas, Spielberg and Cameron, contributes an ingenious mix to a film that is highly reliant on sound -- almost as if it was another character. And musician Jon Brion follows up his magnificent "Magnolia" score with one that's as good, if not better, here.\n"Punch-Drunk Love" is that rare romantic comedy that pulls no punches. It's an odd little movie, but one that will reward viewers with open minds.
(10/31/02 5:00am)
Cristopher Nolan followed up his indie film sensation, "Memento," with "Insomnia," an English-language remake of Erik Skjoldbjærg's widely acclaimed Norwegian thriller of the same title. The film was met with glowing reviews and moderate box-office success, but it didn't seem to garner the universal acceptance that many had anticipated. Those of you who missed "Insomnia" when it hit theaters this past May would be well advised to seek out the recently released DVD. \nAl Pacino gives his best performance in years as Detective Will Dormer (a role originally inhabited by "Good Will Hunting" co-star Stellan Skarsgård). Dormer and his partner, Hap (Hal Hartley regular Martin Donovan), are sent to Alaska to both avoid a scathing internal-affairs investigation back in L.A. and to assist local authorities in solving the murder of a teenage girl.\nWorking alongside Dormer and Hap is a wet-behind-the-ears rookie cop by the name of Ellie Burr (Hilary Swank), who idolizes Dormer yet also questions his ethics throughout the film. Mounting evidence inevitably leads the officers to a creepy author named Walter Finch (Robin Williams). Stress and moral ambiguities eventually take their toll on Dormer, who, in the midst of Alaska's midnight sun, suffers subsequent nights of sleeplessness, which affect both his work and psyche.\nThe "Insomnia" DVD isn't exactly loaded, but most of the extras are pretty worthwhile. Nolan's commentary is especially cool, unlike many other filmmakers; he's chosen to play scenes in the order in which each was shot. Though the film is way out of sequence, this technique is very effective because viewers/listeners are given real insight into the filmmaking process.\nThere are also scene-specific commentaries featuring Swank, production designer Nathan Crowley, editor Dody Dorn, cinematographer Wally Pfister and first-time screenwriter Hillary Seitz. While none of these are bad, they are nowhere near as compelling as Nolan's full-length track.\nFinally, there's "180: A Conversation with Christopher Nolan and Al Pacino," which is cool (especially when Pacino offers vignettes about his work with Lumet and Coppola), but the two occasionally fall into the pattern of blowing pretentious smoke.\n"Insomnia" isn't as revolutionary as "Memento" or even Nolan's debut, "Following," but that's okay -- it's a meticulous film that's far more concerned with emotion and performance. And on that level, it's well worth checking out.
(10/24/02 4:53am)
Hollywood's done it again, folks. Just when you thought those "sharks" in suits couldn't become anymore pansy -- they have. The geniuses at 20th Century Fox have decided to indefinitely halt the release of "Phone Booth," a high-concept thriller originally set for release around Thanksgiving, due to the recent attacks of the infamous D.C. sniper.\nWhen is this whole scenario of commerce designed as censorship and censorship designed as commerce going to stop? Within the past few years alone, many films of merit have been shelved because some exec's quaking in his or her panties.\nJust look at "O," the modern-day, high school-set adaptation of William Shakespeare's "Othello" starring Mekhi Phifer, Julia Stiles and Josh Hartnett (who turned in a career-best performance). Sure, students attacked and even killed their peers in the film, but that's the damned story! That's "Othello!"\nIt's tragic that two socially maladjusted screw-ups felt it was necessary to enter Columbine High School, pipe-bombing and shooting their way through the halls and corridors that fateful day of April 20, 1999. My heart goes out to the injured and deceased, as well as their families and friends, but does it truly warrant the misappropriation of a tried and true adaptation of a timeless classic by one of the foremost creative powers ever? I think not.\nOr what about Martin Scorsese's oft-delayed period piece, "Gangs of New York?" Miramax (a studio once heralded for its brass and bravado) halted the film's release in wake of Sept. 11 last Christmas.\nOK, I understand the flick takes place in New York City, and that it will undoubtedly contain an onslaught of violence (hence the title), but it's New York City circa the 1800s. The delay is hardly relevant.\nBob and Harvey Weinstein, the two brothers behind the new Disney-fied Miramax, assumed viewers wouldn't want to see a bold, bloody gangland drama that chronicled the inception of the New York City we know and love today.\nWrong. If buzz counts for anything, this is going to be the best thing Scorsese's done since "Goodfellas" and will finally break his string of crap, i.e. "Kundun" and "Bringing Out the Dead."\nThe shelving of "Gangs" draws some extraneous questions and quibbles. If Scorsese's film necessitated a delay, then why were a bevy of war films released last year? War was a subject far closer to home than the New York draft riots of 1863, and yet "Behind Enemy Lines," "Black Hawk Down," "Hart's War," "We Were Soldiers" and "Windtalkers" marched into theaters one after the other.\nWell, the logic behind this is quite simple: studios smelled the nationalism that matriculated through our society for all of three months, and they realized there was money to be made. And what's up with digitally removing the World Trade Center from movies, i.e. "Spider-Man" and "Zoolander," and recalling cool promotional materials such as one-sheet posters featuring the Twin Towers (again "Spider-Man")?\nStudios kept on saying that they were looking to respect the memory of Sept. 11 by shelving films like "Gangs," and yet they're unwilling to let the memories live on in eternity within the pantheons of pop culture? \nSo, returning to "Phone Booth," the flick's about a slimy New York P.R. man by the name of Stu Shepard (portrayed by hot up-and-coming Irish actor Colin Farrell) who picks up a ringing pay phone receiver only to be told that if he hangs up, he'll be shot and killed. To prove that he's not full of piss and vinegar, the assailant targets Stu with a laser sight via a sniper rifle.\nA vast majority of the flick takes place in that booth, a novel idea if I ever heard one. The film was shot in 10 days on a budget of 2 million bucks (cheap by Hollywood standards) … pretty cool, huh? As directed by the much-maligned Joel Schumacher (yes, the same man who put nipples on the Batsuit), the film looks interesting. This despite the fact that Schumacher single-handedly ruined the "Batman" franchise.\nBut he's also the man behind "The Lost Boys," "Falling Down," "A Time to Kill" (the best John Grisham adaptation to date) and "Tigerland" (the small-scale Vietnam saga that marked Farrell's American debut), this should be evidence enough that the man produces more than just clunkers.\nSchumacher has been ardently attempting to avoid the delay; he was quoted on IMDB.com as saying that comparisons between the flick and the real-life events are "different cases" and that he hadn't even thought about negative parallels. Schumacher says, "I mean, there are many serial killers that haven't been caught. Should they not release 'Red Dragon?'" The man's got a point.\nFor those pundits out there who blame films such as "Phone Booth" or first-person-shooter video games for the recent tragedies in D.C., I've got this to say to you -- quit using the entertainment industry as a scapegoat for societal difficulties, assemble whatever stones you have (measly as they may be) and grab yourself a clue.\nAs the homicidal momma's boy Billy Loomis (Skeet Ulrich) once told Neve Campbell's Sidney Prescott character in "Scream" (another film blamed for random acts of violence), "Movies don't create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative."\nHell, even the crazy kid's catching on.
