596 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
(10/11/01 4:37am)
Louisville rock trio Days of the New returns to the fold with its newest self-titled album. The band has two previous self-titled albums (released in 1999 and 1997). \nHey guys, perhaps it's time to put a little thought into a new album title?\nTo hear the groups latest effort, one might think it is the vanity project of a widely regarded solo artist, which lead singer Travis Meeks seems to think himself. \nAfter breaking through with his debut, Meeks canned his high school chums Matt Taul (drums) and Jesse Vest (bass) in favor of a "tighter" unit. This came in the form of bassist Mike Huettig and drummer Ray Rizzo; these guys look and sound like a bunch of Pearl Jam posers. \nEarth to Days of the New: It isn't 1993 and you're not from Seattle.\nDays of the New reeks of pretentiousness. That's not to say the album's horrible, it's just a tad derivative, and Meeks' somber "look how badly my rock star life sucks" rants grow tired quickly.\nDespite these problems, this critic has to give credit where credit is due -- Meeks is tough. He has infused Days of the New with a bombastic and almost entirely too rich sound; songs layer complex orchestral arrangements atop middle-eastern instrumentals atop Meeks' Morrison-esque yelping and howling. He even goes so far as to rip off John Williams' "Imperial March" (Darth Vader's Theme) from George Lucas' "Star Wars" flicks during the inspired "Dirty Road." It's admirable for a band and a young artist such as Meeks to bite off more than they can chew, but it doesn't always make for a great listening experience.\nThe disc reaches its stride in a few places; the album's single "Hang on to This," the cheerily titled "Die Born" and the genuinely rocking "Where Are You?" all register particularly well. These tracks give listeners a glimpse into Days of the New's potential that may be reached in future efforts.
(10/11/01 4:33am)
enacious D, the self-proclaimed greatest band of all time, bursts onto the music scene in glorious fashion with its immensely raunchy yet infinitely funny self-titled debut.\nThe D is composed of gifted comedic film actor Jack Black and right-hand man Kyle Gass. The duo's lineage can be traced back to their short-lived self-titled HBO cult television show. \nBlack and Gass bring a manic comic energy to the music. Their lyrics could have derived from the salacious scrawlings strewn about the "classiest" of lavatory walls or perhaps the over-sexed gloats that echo through a high school locker room. Tenacious D matches its incessant obscenity-laced rants with spiked barbs chock full of sexual oddities and potent drug references in an orgy of poor taste. Despite the album's offensive nature, most listeners will still find themselves in stitches because of the sheer sense of absurdity of the music.\nAlthough The D is a primarily comedic venture, one can't dispute the musical craftsmanship that separates these guys from your run-of-the-mill novelty band. Both Black and Gass are strong guitarists and vocalists, as exemplified by Black's performance of "Let's Get it On" in the John Cusack comedy "High Fidelity." The D finds able assistance through the top tier production team of The Dust Brothers (best known for their work with the Beastie Boys and Beck), as well as Foo Fighter Dave Grohl, who plays guitar and drums on various tracks.\nMusically, the strongest tunes on the album include "Tribute," "Wonderboy," "Explosivo," "Dio" and "Friendship." These tracks mute The D's crude humor in favor of sharp musical stylings and storytelling technique. On a comedic level, the disc reaches its epoch with the none-too-subtly titled "Kielbasa" and the album's single "Fuck Her Gently." Black milks his cinematic jackass persona to perfection in a series of vignettes dispersed through the album including "Karate Schnitzel" and "Drive-Thru."\nTenacious D is not for all tastes, but for those of you who dig coarse humor and sharply crafted hard rocking grooves, The D should be right up your alley.
(10/11/01 4:00am)
enacious D, the self-proclaimed greatest band of all time, bursts onto the music scene in glorious fashion with its immensely raunchy yet infinitely funny self-titled debut.\nThe D is composed of gifted comedic film actor Jack Black and right-hand man Kyle Gass. The duo's lineage can be traced back to their short-lived self-titled HBO cult television show. \nBlack and Gass bring a manic comic energy to the music. Their lyrics could have derived from the salacious scrawlings strewn about the "classiest" of lavatory walls or perhaps the over-sexed gloats that echo through a high school locker room. Tenacious D matches its incessant obscenity-laced rants with spiked barbs chock full of sexual oddities and potent drug references in an orgy of poor taste. Despite the album's offensive nature, most listeners will still find themselves in stitches because of the sheer sense of absurdity of the music.\nAlthough The D is a primarily comedic venture, one can't dispute the musical craftsmanship that separates these guys from your run-of-the-mill novelty band. Both Black and Gass are strong guitarists and vocalists, as exemplified by Black's performance of "Let's Get it On" in the John Cusack comedy "High Fidelity." The D finds able assistance through the top tier production team of The Dust Brothers (best known for their work with the Beastie Boys and Beck), as well as Foo Fighter Dave Grohl, who plays guitar and drums on various tracks.\nMusically, the strongest tunes on the album include "Tribute," "Wonderboy," "Explosivo," "Dio" and "Friendship." These tracks mute The D's crude humor in favor of sharp musical stylings and storytelling technique. On a comedic level, the disc reaches its epoch with the none-too-subtly titled "Kielbasa" and the album's single "Fuck Her Gently." Black milks his cinematic jackass persona to perfection in a series of vignettes dispersed through the album including "Karate Schnitzel" and "Drive-Thru."\nTenacious D is not for all tastes, but for those of you who dig coarse humor and sharply crafted hard rocking grooves, The D should be right up your alley.
(10/11/01 4:00am)
Louisville rock trio Days of the New returns to the fold with its newest self-titled album. The band has two previous self-titled albums (released in 1999 and 1997). \nHey guys, perhaps it's time to put a little thought into a new album title?\nTo hear the groups latest effort, one might think it is the vanity project of a widely regarded solo artist, which lead singer Travis Meeks seems to think himself. \nAfter breaking through with his debut, Meeks canned his high school chums Matt Taul (drums) and Jesse Vest (bass) in favor of a "tighter" unit. This came in the form of bassist Mike Huettig and drummer Ray Rizzo; these guys look and sound like a bunch of Pearl Jam posers. \nEarth to Days of the New: It isn't 1993 and you're not from Seattle.\nDays of the New reeks of pretentiousness. That's not to say the album's horrible, it's just a tad derivative, and Meeks' somber "look how badly my rock star life sucks" rants grow tired quickly.\nDespite these problems, this critic has to give credit where credit is due -- Meeks is tough. He has infused Days of the New with a bombastic and almost entirely too rich sound; songs layer complex orchestral arrangements atop middle-eastern instrumentals atop Meeks' Morrison-esque yelping and howling. He even goes so far as to rip off John Williams' "Imperial March" (Darth Vader's Theme) from George Lucas' "Star Wars" flicks during the inspired "Dirty Road." It's admirable for a band and a young artist such as Meeks to bite off more than they can chew, but it doesn't always make for a great listening experience.\nThe disc reaches its stride in a few places; the album's single "Hang on to This," the cheerily titled "Die Born" and the genuinely rocking "Where Are You?" all register particularly well. These tracks give listeners a glimpse into Days of the New's potential that may be reached in future efforts.
(10/11/01 4:00am)
As each year goes by, it seems films have less substance. Therefore, it's a real shock to the system when a daring, edgy and immensely well done work is released amidst mainstream mediocrity -- a film that knocks you on your ass -- a film such as Larry Clark's "Bully."\n"Bully" chronicles the entirely true incidents leading up to and following the brutal, group-orchestrated murder of heinous bully Bobby Kent (Nick Stahl), which occurred in southern Florida in 1993.\nBobby and Marty (Brad Renfro) have been friends for as long as either could remember. But along with the friendship comes an unrelenting cycle of verbal, physical and sometimes sexual abuse that Bobby willfully exacts against Marty.\nMarty eventually falls in love with a shy wallflower named Lisa (Rachel Miner). Lisa can't stand the way Bobby freely belittles Marty, and she fears the constant threat of rape toward her and her friend Ali (Bijou Phillips).\nInevitably, Lisa suggests to Marty they should kill Bobby. Soon after, Lisa enlists the services of her lonely, videogame-addicted cousin, Derek (Daniel Franzese), Ali's drug-addled boyfriend Donny (Michael Pitt) and Heather (Kelli Garner), a recent rehab escapee. The group amounts to very little and seeks outside help from a hilarious Mafioso wannabe known simply as Hitman (Leo Fitzpatrick).\nIn wake of the killing at Columbine in 1999, "Bully" is an incredibly bold and brave film. Clark, the director of the somewhat similarly themed "Kids," should be applauded for the way in which he unrelentingly depicts the lives of aimless teens. As should the film's cast, especially Miner, who serves as a teenage incarnation of Lady Macbeth, Renfro, who brings a warped sense of sensitivity to his role and Stahl, who creates one of the most loathsome characters to have ever graced the screen.\n"Bully" is an incredibly powerful film, one that should be viewed and discussed by mature children and parents. Sadly, "Bully" was released with little fanfare, and will most certainly turn many off because of its pervasive sexuality and graphic violence. Hopefully, viewers can look past these baser elements and see the issues at hand. Without a doubt, "Bully" is the most socially relevant and thought-provoking film released this year.
(10/04/01 4:00am)
Georgia quintet Collective Soul, spearheaded by brothers Ed and Dean Roland, reached the public consciousness in 1994 with debut album Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid and the hard-rocking, chart-topping single "Shine." \nSeven years and four albums later, the brothers Roland and company have amassed enough material to release 7even Year Itch, a greatest hits album, and the results are primarily good.\nThe album's tracks appear in no certain order, but the selections made, at least for the most part, are quite apt and entertaining.\nInterestingly enough, the album's high points include tracks that are featured on two other releases. "She Said" originally appeared on the "Scream 2" soundtrack and later showed up as a bonus track on Dosage, the band's excellent 1999 release. "Run" was featured prominently on the "Varsity Blues" soundtrack, and was bar none this critic's favorite tune on Dosage. Both songs grapple with relatively sad issues and desperate figures. But skillful power-pop balladry and moving string arrangements easily mask these morose elements. What could have been a dual gloom-fest is elevated into thoughtful and inspiring meditations on the human condition.\nCollective Soul was wise in following the tried and true "greatest hits" formula by including its most popular songs, such as "Gel," "The World I Know," "Listen" and "December." These tracks sound as good today as they did the day of their release and are welcome additions to the album.\nThe boys were also smart in excluding a vast majority of their last album, Blender. Aside from first-class "Why Pt. 2," which is included on 7even Year Itch, the record blew pretty hard. Instead, they opted for stronger tracks such as "Precious Declaration" and "Forgiveness" off their 1997 effort Disciplined Breakdown.\nThe album isn't without its faults and a certain omission should have been made in "Next Homecoming," which doesn't begin to match the caliber of other tunes within the collection. \nDespite a few minor qualms, 7even Year Itch is a solid greatest hits album that should satisfy both seasoned fans of Collective Soul and the uninitiated who are simply looking for a capable rock album.\nRating: 7
(09/27/01 4:50am)
Chapel Hill's native son, Ben Folds, returns to the recording industry a little under a year after the disbandment of his ironically named trio, Ben Folds Five, with the inspired new solo album Rockin' the Suburbs.\nThe disc doesn't differentiate itself drastically from previous recordings made with his former collective. But Folds expands upon the comedic yet heartfelt elements, that made the previous works so winning, to churn out the best album of his already impressive career.\nListening to Rockin' the Suburbs evokes memories of piano men past. Folds certainly has the musical chops and pop sensibility of an early Billy Joel, while maintaining the sharp comedic edge of Randy Newman.\nRockin' the Suburbs finds its comedic footing on its title track. The tune skewers self-important, upper-middle class, white rockers with a dead-on Rage Against the Machine parody. Lyrically, the song is a self-deprecating piece exemplified by such lines as, "I'm rockin' the suburbs, just like Michael Jackson did, I'm rockin' the suburbs, except that he was talented." Essentially, the tune serves as a companion piece to "Underground," a blatant mockery of indie rock elitists, which appeared on Ben Folds Five's self-titled debut.\nFolds dismisses his trademark acerbic wit with the highly personal tracks, "Still Fighting It" and "The Luckiest," and in doing so, produces the best work of the album if not his career. "Still Fighting It" seems to stem from Folds' recent stint at fatherhood as well as his own relationship with his father. "The Luckiest" is an unabashedly romantic ballad that he penned for his wife. Both tunes are beautifully orchestrated ballads of both emotional and technical acuity.\nOther tracks which register particularly well, but to a somewhat lesser degree include: "Annie Waits," "Gone," "Losing Lisa" and "Not the Same." \nFolds produced the album alongside first time collaborator Ben Grosse, replacing longtime Folds co-producer Caleb Southern. Grosse -- best known for his previous work with Fuel and Filter -- and Folds prove to be a winning team. The collaboration spurs the cleanest, sharpest and most robust sound of all of Folds' albums. \nRockin' the Suburbs is an incredibly focused piece of power pop that proves Ben Folds as an immensely capable solo artist to be reckoned with.
(09/27/01 4:00am)
Chapel Hill's native son, Ben Folds, returns to the recording industry a little under a year after the disbandment of his ironically named trio, Ben Folds Five, with the inspired new solo album Rockin' the Suburbs.\nThe disc doesn't differentiate itself drastically from previous recordings made with his former collective. But Folds expands upon the comedic yet heartfelt elements, that made the previous works so winning, to churn out the best album of his already impressive career.\nListening to Rockin' the Suburbs evokes memories of piano men past. Folds certainly has the musical chops and pop sensibility of an early Billy Joel, while maintaining the sharp comedic edge of Randy Newman.\nRockin' the Suburbs finds its comedic footing on its title track. The tune skewers self-important, upper-middle class, white rockers with a dead-on Rage Against the Machine parody. Lyrically, the song is a self-deprecating piece exemplified by such lines as, "I'm rockin' the suburbs, just like Michael Jackson did, I'm rockin' the suburbs, except that he was talented." Essentially, the tune serves as a companion piece to "Underground," a blatant mockery of indie rock elitists, which appeared on Ben Folds Five's self-titled debut.\nFolds dismisses his trademark acerbic wit with the highly personal tracks, "Still Fighting It" and "The Luckiest," and in doing so, produces the best work of the album if not his career. "Still Fighting It" seems to stem from Folds' recent stint at fatherhood as well as his own relationship with his father. "The Luckiest" is an unabashedly romantic ballad that he penned for his wife. Both tunes are beautifully orchestrated ballads of both emotional and technical acuity.\nOther tracks which register particularly well, but to a somewhat lesser degree include: "Annie Waits," "Gone," "Losing Lisa" and "Not the Same." \nFolds produced the album alongside first time collaborator Ben Grosse, replacing longtime Folds co-producer Caleb Southern. Grosse -- best known for his previous work with Fuel and Filter -- and Folds prove to be a winning team. The collaboration spurs the cleanest, sharpest and most robust sound of all of Folds' albums. \nRockin' the Suburbs is an incredibly focused piece of power pop that proves Ben Folds as an immensely capable solo artist to be reckoned with.
(09/13/01 5:22am)
The Musketeer" is the most recent in a long line of renditions of Alexandre Dumas' literary classic, "The Three Musketeers," and comes in the form of this stilted yet mildly entertaining flick.\nFormer model Justin Chambers headlines the flick as D'Artagnan, a young wannabe Musketeer who has the insatiable urge to avenge his parents' deaths by murdering their assailant, a nefarious villain by the name of Febre (Tim Roth sans monkey make-up). \nFebre is currently under the employ of the equally evil Cardinal Richelieu ("Crying Game" star Stephen Rea). Together the two are collaborating to overthrow the King in hopes that France will soon be under the reign of the Catholic Church. Their quest to do so has been uncontested up to this point, seeing as how the King's personal guard and army, the Musketeers, have long since been disbanded.\nThe story, which is essentially the same as previous efforts, is pretty weak. The only thing that's worse than it's hodgepodge of a narrative is the even more excruciating dialogue. Screenwriter Gene Quintano, the "brilliant" scribe behind such masterworks as the third and fourth "Police Academy" outings and the Jean-Claude Van Damme hockey epic "Sudden Death," should be relegated to obscurity along the lines of former collaborator Steve Guttenberg. \nDirector and cinematographer Peter Hyams is not much better. While it is impressive that Hyams is pulling double duty with this film, it doesn't necessarily help matters. The action sequences, which should be this film's trump card, are a tad muddled. Shots are entirely too tight and choppily edited for viewers to even realize what is going on. Hyams, veteran director of the aforementioned Van Damme masterpiece and the Schwarzenegger mishap "End of Days," really had no business tackling a film of this scope and potential.\nThe film's acting for the most part is also pretty third rate. Chambers should stick to modeling, his performance as the presumably impassioned D'Artagnan is wooden and vacant. It's as though he's posturing during the entire movie. Faring even worse is Mena Suvari as D'Artagnan's love interest -- she does her valley girl shtick during this period piece. It's as though she stumbled into this mess after a long bender on the "American Pie 2" set.\nThe film's primary saving grace comes in the form of the ever-dependable Tim Roth. His performance as the malicious stock baddie with a more thoroughly ingrained malevolent streak must be seen to be believed. The action choreography of Hong Kong legend Xin Xin Xiong ("Once Upon a Time in America") also fares particularly well. Aside from these two class acts the film has the feel of a direct-to-video venture, which ironically is where I'd suggest you look for this low-grade actioneer.
(09/13/01 4:00am)
The Musketeer" is the most recent in a long line of renditions of Alexandre Dumas' literary classic, "The Three Musketeers," and comes in the form of this stilted yet mildly entertaining flick.\nFormer model Justin Chambers headlines the flick as D'Artagnan, a young wannabe Musketeer who has the insatiable urge to avenge his parents' deaths by murdering their assailant, a nefarious villain by the name of Febre (Tim Roth sans monkey make-up). \nFebre is currently under the employ of the equally evil Cardinal Richelieu ("Crying Game" star Stephen Rea). Together the two are collaborating to overthrow the King in hopes that France will soon be under the reign of the Catholic Church. Their quest to do so has been uncontested up to this point, seeing as how the King's personal guard and army, the Musketeers, have long since been disbanded.\nThe story, which is essentially the same as previous efforts, is pretty weak. The only thing that's worse than it's hodgepodge of a narrative is the even more excruciating dialogue. Screenwriter Gene Quintano, the "brilliant" scribe behind such masterworks as the third and fourth "Police Academy" outings and the Jean-Claude Van Damme hockey epic "Sudden Death," should be relegated to obscurity along the lines of former collaborator Steve Guttenberg. \nDirector and cinematographer Peter Hyams is not much better. While it is impressive that Hyams is pulling double duty with this film, it doesn't necessarily help matters. The action sequences, which should be this film's trump card, are a tad muddled. Shots are entirely too tight and choppily edited for viewers to even realize what is going on. Hyams, veteran director of the aforementioned Van Damme masterpiece and the Schwarzenegger mishap "End of Days," really had no business tackling a film of this scope and potential.\nThe film's acting for the most part is also pretty third rate. Chambers should stick to modeling, his performance as the presumably impassioned D'Artagnan is wooden and vacant. It's as though he's posturing during the entire movie. Faring even worse is Mena Suvari as D'Artagnan's love interest -- she does her valley girl shtick during this period piece. It's as though she stumbled into this mess after a long bender on the "American Pie 2" set.\nThe film's primary saving grace comes in the form of the ever-dependable Tim Roth. His performance as the malicious stock baddie with a more thoroughly ingrained malevolent streak must be seen to be believed. The action choreography of Hong Kong legend Xin Xin Xiong ("Once Upon a Time in America") also fares particularly well. Aside from these two class acts the film has the feel of a direct-to-video venture, which ironically is where I'd suggest you look for this low-grade actioneer.
(09/06/01 4:00am)
John Carpenter is bar-none one of the best genre directors working in Hollywood. He practically invented the horror film.\nThe pedigree of Carpenter's work makes his latest opus, "Ghosts of Mars" slightly disappointing. This is nothing more than a futuristic sci-fi/ horror riff on the traditional western narrative.\nNatasha Henstridge stars as Melody Ballard, a tough-as-nails cop who is in the midst of making a routine prison transport to a barren Mars outpost. Then all hell breaks loose -- decapitated bodies amass and gallons of blood are spilt.\nSomeone has to be held responsible for the massive bloodletting. Enter their infamous prisoner Desolation Williams (Ice Cube). Williams eventually sides with the officers in a battle for their lives against a group of former miners, transformed into crazed, self-mutilating monsters by a mythic spirit that inhabits the planet. More violence ensues, then the credits roll.\n"Ghosts of Mars" begins as a mildly thought provoking film, boldly addressing issues such as drug abuse, race relations and sexuality in its first quarter, but the social relevance quickly dissipates and carnage reigns.\nIce Cube turns in a schizophrenic performance in the film. He oscillates unnaturally between child-like innocence and bombastic action hero bravado. \nHenstridge gives her best performance to date, infusing her likeable character with a sense of honor. \nThe film is slightly reminiscent of Carpenter's early masterwork "Assault on Precinct 13," but to a greatly diminished degree. Viewers should familiarize themselves with this under-appreciated director's catalogue rather than trek out to view this mediocre glimpse at successes past.
(08/31/01 4:00am)
American Outlaws" is the latest in a string of teen-oriented westerns ala "Young Guns," fitting the formula to a tee. Here we have a bunch of vapid, yet aesthetically pleasing young stars in chaps, mounted on their trusty steeds. All this while spouting off poorly scribed dialogues of pride and love. \nRelatively unknown Colin Farrell headlines the film as legendary outlaw Jesse James. Farrell, who made such a triumphant debut in last year's far more capable "Tigerland," still registers well, but to a far more bland and muted degree. \n"American Outlaws" chronicles the misadventures of Jesse and his cocksure gang of desperadoes, which includes his older brother Frank (Gabriel Macht) and the obnoxious Cole Younger (Scott Caan). \nThese good ol' boys gravitate toward pilfering railroad loot from various different banks in hopes of deterring the suits from eyeing their fertile Missouri farmlands for future ventures. This band of hillbilly hooligan's form such a thorn in the sides of the railroad execs that they call upon the services of dastardly enforcer Colonel Pinkerton (former 1980s James Bond star Timothy Dalton) to vanquish the turds from this mortal coil. \nDalton walks away with the flick on the sheer unadulterated campiness. He adopts the thick Scottish brogue of a more reputable Bond actor to a hilarious effect.\nOther actors rounding out the cast include Kathy Bates as the James' boys doting, Bible-thumping mother and the striking Ali Larter as the bimbo on Jesse's arm. Both actresses bring a high cheese factor to the flick.\nLes Mayfield, the cinematic luminary behind "Encino Man," directed this misfire in a rather haphazard fashion. The action sequences are poorly edited and the film's dramatic moments are laughable at best. Perhaps Mayfield should hold off on his goal of resurrecting the great American western, and focus on more attainable tasks such as reigniting Pauly Shore's career.
(04/26/01 5:42am)
Following the current mold of innumerable UK-based, folk-laced rock acts is Turin Brakes. The band comprises highly talented singer-songwriters Olly Knights and Gale Paridjanian. The Optimist LP is its major label debut and a departure from the independent and heavier imports.\nMuch like its UK contemporaries such as Coldplay and Travis, or even forerunners like the now-dismantled rock gods the Verve or the pre-OK Computer incarnation of Radiohead, Turin Brakes has the ability to harmonize and churn out solid folky rock tunes unlike many Stateside musicians with the exception of indie rockers such as Stephen Malkmus or Lou Barlow and his collective that bears the apt title The Folk Implosion.\nThe Optimist LP contains 12 tracks, none of which lacks or disappoints. But the standouts among the bunch are most assuredly the thoroughly mellow, Travis-esque tracks "Feeling Oblivion" and "Emergency 72," a slightly edgy tune titled "Slack" and the infinitely catchy rock hymns "Mind Over Money" and "Underdog (Save Me)." \nTurin Brakes is a band of staggering ability and presence, yet somehow it seems to come up lacking. By comparison with its infinitely skilled contemporaries, the aforementioned Coldplay and Travis, the band just doesn't entirely stack up. Its album is truly great, just not quite as great as some other albums of a similar vein now in rotation.\nIt's interesting that Astralwerks, a label better known for releasing and later breaking esteemed techno-fueled artists such as Fatboy Slim and Basement Jaxx, has taken Turin Brakes under its tutelage and released The Optimist LP here in the States. With the right promotion, these guys could be just as commercially and musically viable as their more experienced and culturally accepted compatriots.\nThe Optimist LP is a fantastic way for a talented duo such as Turin Brakes to enter the U.S. stream of consciousness and a hint of the incredible works to come.
(04/26/01 4:00am)
Freddy Got Fingered" takes the gross-out genre to entirely new and immensely perverse levels. Despite this daring-do, the flick is still a mixed bag. Yet the mediocrity only resonates so far, and what remains is a ballsy and frequently hilarious, albeit strange, comedy.\nTom Green headlines the film as Gord, a 28-year-old skate punk who resides in his folks' basement and harbors dreams of becoming a professional animator. He inevitably makes the pilgrimage to Los Angeles to pitch his ideas to animation executive David Davidson (Anthony Michael Hall). Davidson quickly dismisses Gord's ideas as moronic and half-cocked, sending Gord home with his tail tucked between his legs and back to the confines of the basement.\nThe aforementioned plot points are the more traditional and mainstream elements of the film. Once Gord arrives home, all hell breaks loose, and the film, which was already bizarre, sinks farther into absurdity. Gord and his abusive father (Rip Torn) enter into mass hysterics and small-scale warfare, complete with obscenity-laced taunts and mock sexual advances. Gord hooks up with a wheelchair-bound nurse/rocket scientist named Betty (Marisa Coughlan) with a predilection toward oral sex. And bodily fluids ranging from blood to semen splatter across the celluloid-like confetti at a birthday party.\nThis is a comedy unlike any I have ever seen. The flick is violent, chock full of graphic images from a heinous broken leg to an inundation of cruel blows sustained to a young boy's face. Also, mildly disturbing images of bestiality intermittently find their way into the film. \nThe film's supporting cast is rounded out by a relative who's who in the realms of gross-out and slapstick comedy: Julie Haggerty ("Airplane"), Harland Williams ("There's Something About Mary") and Eddie Kaye Thomas of "American Pie" fame, the latter portraying the sodomized titular character. Cameos by Green's better half Drew Barrymore and an anonymous, pelvic-thrusting NBA superstar also add to the proceedings.\nFans of Green's unique brand of comedy will enjoy the perverse laughs during "Freddy Got Fingered," but those who dislike or are only lukewarm on Green and his shenanigans should avoid the film at all costs.
(04/26/01 4:00am)
Following the current mold of innumerable UK-based, folk-laced rock acts is Turin Brakes. The band comprises highly talented singer-songwriters Olly Knights and Gale Paridjanian. The Optimist LP is its major label debut and a departure from the independent and heavier imports.\nMuch like its UK contemporaries such as Coldplay and Travis, or even forerunners like the now-dismantled rock gods the Verve or the pre-OK Computer incarnation of Radiohead, Turin Brakes has the ability to harmonize and churn out solid folky rock tunes unlike many Stateside musicians with the exception of indie rockers such as Stephen Malkmus or Lou Barlow and his collective that bears the apt title The Folk Implosion.\nThe Optimist LP contains 12 tracks, none of which lacks or disappoints. But the standouts among the bunch are most assuredly the thoroughly mellow, Travis-esque tracks "Feeling Oblivion" and "Emergency 72," a slightly edgy tune titled "Slack" and the infinitely catchy rock hymns "Mind Over Money" and "Underdog (Save Me)." \nTurin Brakes is a band of staggering ability and presence, yet somehow it seems to come up lacking. By comparison with its infinitely skilled contemporaries, the aforementioned Coldplay and Travis, the band just doesn't entirely stack up. Its album is truly great, just not quite as great as some other albums of a similar vein now in rotation.\nIt's interesting that Astralwerks, a label better known for releasing and later breaking esteemed techno-fueled artists such as Fatboy Slim and Basement Jaxx, has taken Turin Brakes under its tutelage and released The Optimist LP here in the States. With the right promotion, these guys could be just as commercially and musically viable as their more experienced and culturally accepted compatriots.\nThe Optimist LP is a fantastic way for a talented duo such as Turin Brakes to enter the U.S. stream of consciousness and a hint of the incredible works to come.
(04/13/01 1:49am)
Who would have thought that Robert Rodriguez, director of such blood-letting epics as "Desperado" and "From Dusk till Dawn" and the pro-drug, teen sci-fi opus "The Faculty," would direct a PG-rated action adventure directed at the grade school set? \nBut "Spy Kids," an irreverent but original children's film, is a combination of a James Bond flick and "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."\nThe film focuses upon a married pair of former special agents, Gregorio (Antonio Banderas) and Ingrid (Carla Gugino of "Snake Eyes") and their two young children, Carmen and Juni (newcomers Alexa Vega and Daryl Sabara). \nAfter a nine-year absence from the espionage game, Mom and Dad are drawn back into the fold by Fegan Floop (Alan Cumming), a children's television host suspected of abducting agents and transforming them into mutant sideshow attractions. Gregorio and Ingrid are captured by Floop and his henchman Minion (Tony Shalhoub), and their rescue falls into the small hands of their progeny.\nRodriguez is every bit the filmmaker he was nearly 10 years ago during the premiere of the $7,000 "El Mariachi." Serving as the writer, director, producer and editor, Rodriguez is the personification of efficiency. Hence "Spy Kids" is a $35 million production that looks as though it should cost twice that. Rodriguez creates a surrealistic world in which great implausibilities occur, but these qualities are wrapped in a glossy veneer with style to burn, so it hardly registers. \nVega and Sabara are capable child actors, adding grace and charm to roles that could have led to annoyance. Banderas and Gugino are slightly underused, but good in their respective roles. The supporting cast is rounded out by talented, familiar faces including Cheech Marin, Robert Patrick ("Terminator 2"), Teri Hatcher and the infinitely cool Danny Trejo ("Heat"). Despite great performances all-around, "Spy Kids" belongs to Cumming. Floop is a revelation, a Willy Wonka on crack.\n"Spy Kids" is a visceral action flick with few problems (minus its occasional bouts with cheesiness and over-sentimentality) that should entertain kids and kids at heart alike.
(04/12/01 4:00am)
Who would have thought that Robert Rodriguez, director of such blood-letting epics as "Desperado" and "From Dusk till Dawn" and the pro-drug, teen sci-fi opus "The Faculty," would direct a PG-rated action adventure directed at the grade school set? \nBut "Spy Kids," an irreverent but original children's film, is a combination of a James Bond flick and "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."\nThe film focuses upon a married pair of former special agents, Gregorio (Antonio Banderas) and Ingrid (Carla Gugino of "Snake Eyes") and their two young children, Carmen and Juni (newcomers Alexa Vega and Daryl Sabara). \nAfter a nine-year absence from the espionage game, Mom and Dad are drawn back into the fold by Fegan Floop (Alan Cumming), a children's television host suspected of abducting agents and transforming them into mutant sideshow attractions. Gregorio and Ingrid are captured by Floop and his henchman Minion (Tony Shalhoub), and their rescue falls into the small hands of their progeny.\nRodriguez is every bit the filmmaker he was nearly 10 years ago during the premiere of the $7,000 "El Mariachi." Serving as the writer, director, producer and editor, Rodriguez is the personification of efficiency. Hence "Spy Kids" is a $35 million production that looks as though it should cost twice that. Rodriguez creates a surrealistic world in which great implausibilities occur, but these qualities are wrapped in a glossy veneer with style to burn, so it hardly registers. \nVega and Sabara are capable child actors, adding grace and charm to roles that could have led to annoyance. Banderas and Gugino are slightly underused, but good in their respective roles. The supporting cast is rounded out by talented, familiar faces including Cheech Marin, Robert Patrick ("Terminator 2"), Teri Hatcher and the infinitely cool Danny Trejo ("Heat"). Despite great performances all-around, "Spy Kids" belongs to Cumming. Floop is a revelation, a Willy Wonka on crack.\n"Spy Kids" is a visceral action flick with few problems (minus its occasional bouts with cheesiness and over-sentimentality) that should entertain kids and kids at heart alike.
(04/05/01 4:00am)
Tomcats," the latest in a long slew of mindless gross-out comedies, focuses on the exploits of fledgling cartoonist Michael Delaney (Jerry O'Connell), Kyle Brenner (the immensely sleazy yet inexplicably funny Jake Busey) and their eclectic cronies (including Steve, a proctologist portrayed by "SNL" regular Horatio Sanz). During the first of their friends' weddings, this motley group of frat rats amasses a cash pool that will inevitably be doled out to the last bachelor standing.\nFlash-forward to the present and the Las Vegas wedding of Steve, and only two men remain single. Michael places himself in a rather precarious situation through an ill-advised bout of gambling and finds himself $51,000 in the hole. The men of "Tomcats," akin to a vast percentage of actual men, seem to do a great deal of their thinking through the main vein.\nMichael has a month to pay off his debt or he will inevitably sleep with the fishes. Enter Natalie (Shannon Elizabeth), a thwarted, former flame of Kyle's and a vice cop to boot. She's pissed about the way in which she was discarded and eagerly sides with Michael in an attempt to marry off and screw over Kyle to collect half the cache.\nThe greatest problem with "Tomcats" lies in the divergent acting styles. O'Connell is a bland leading man with awkward comedic timing, but he is likable enough in a scrubbed, preppy sort of way. Elizabeth seems to have entered a competition with Denise Richards to figure out who is the worst actress. Busey churns out a performance oozing with machismo sleaziness, and he's funny. Bill Maher as a Jewish gangster registers nicely in a cameo that gives the proceedings much-needed class and style.\nJokes run from cancerous testicles to lactating nipples, and the sperm bank standard recently seen in "Road Trip" and "Way of the Gun" is also displayed, albeit to lesser success. Much of the film's humor is hit and miss, mostly miss. The flick is an utterly mixed bag. Imagine "Porky's" or "American Pie" displaced into the post-collegiate years minus the breasts and much of the humor and what remains is "Tomcats," an unoriginal and predominantly unfunny turd of a movie.
(04/05/01 3:55am)
Tomcats," the latest in a long slew of mindless gross-out comedies, focuses on the exploits of fledgling cartoonist Michael Delaney (Jerry O'Connell), Kyle Brenner (the immensely sleazy yet inexplicably funny Jake Busey) and their eclectic cronies (including Steve, a proctologist portrayed by "SNL" regular Horatio Sanz). During the first of their friends' weddings, this motley group of frat rats amasses a cash pool that will inevitably be doled out to the last bachelor standing.\nFlash-forward to the present and the Las Vegas wedding of Steve, and only two men remain single. Michael places himself in a rather precarious situation through an ill-advised bout of gambling and finds himself $51,000 in the hole. The men of "Tomcats," akin to a vast percentage of actual men, seem to do a great deal of their thinking through the main vein.\nMichael has a month to pay off his debt or he will inevitably sleep with the fishes. Enter Natalie (Shannon Elizabeth), a thwarted, former flame of Kyle's and a vice cop to boot. She's pissed about the way in which she was discarded and eagerly sides with Michael in an attempt to marry off and screw over Kyle to collect half the cache.\nThe greatest problem with "Tomcats" lies in the divergent acting styles. O'Connell is a bland leading man with awkward comedic timing, but he is likable enough in a scrubbed, preppy sort of way. Elizabeth seems to have entered a competition with Denise Richards to figure out who is the worst actress. Busey churns out a performance oozing with machismo sleaziness, and he's funny. Bill Maher as a Jewish gangster registers nicely in a cameo that gives the proceedings much-needed class and style.\nJokes run from cancerous testicles to lactating nipples, and the sperm bank standard recently seen in "Road Trip" and "Way of the Gun" is also displayed, albeit to lesser success. Much of the film's humor is hit and miss, mostly miss. The flick is an utterly mixed bag. Imagine "Porky's" or "American Pie" displaced into the post-collegiate years minus the breasts and much of the humor and what remains is "Tomcats," an unoriginal and predominantly unfunny turd of a movie.
(03/29/01 5:00am)
Games in the "Final Fantasy" or "Zelda" series were the basis for which THQ created its flagship PS2 role-playing title, "Summoner." \nThe game picks up where the others left off and expands upon their concepts and game play through the vast technological advances provided by the PS2's immensely powerful hardware. \n"Summoner" has a cinematic quality to it. The game is chock full of dialogue, beautifully rendered graphics and story clips. There are even intricately produced credits that roll before game play starts. These qualities suit the game seeing as how it, like numerous others of the genre, is essentially a narrative the player controls.\nThe game's story focuses on a young farmer named Joseph. But Joseph is no ordinary farmer; he possesses the immense powers of a summoner, an individual with the uncanny ability to cast spells. Joseph, alongside fellow warriors Rosalind, Flece and Jekhar, must battle with sword and spell the demonic forces that are inundating their homes, murdering their friends and destroying their lands. In a dire mission to annihilate their most capable foes, the heroes must embark on a mythic journey to various villages waging grand-scale warfare and dissipating the monstrosities. \nThe game play is a tad too linear for my personal tastes. It would have been nice to have more control over the heroes' actions, especially during battle, and what control is available is hard to master and overly complicated. Also, the narrative serves the game so well that in many respects it's also very inhibiting. It's as though the narrative carries the player instead of the player carrying the narrative. No matter the action you take, the outcome seems to remain the same, and that's incredibly frustrating. \n"Summoner" is an involving strategy game that will keep gamers occupied for hours on end, and fans of the genre will most certainly be happy with the game. Despite strong graphics and an elaborate story line, the game was inevitably a disappointment. But it's definitely worth at least a rental and possibly purchase because of a side-splittingly funny RPG spoof contained within the disc. "Summoner" is essentially nothing more than a flashy testimonial to the power contained within the PS2 console and a hint of the greatness looming in future titles.
