385 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
(02/01/07 3:38am)
Most long-time Nintendo supporters live by their own special calendar, punctuated not by days, weeks and months, but by the release of producer Shigeru Miyamoto and Eiji Aonuma's "Legend of Zelda" games. The three milestones on this calendar, all designed as flagship games for their respective consoles, are 1992's "A Link to the Past" for the Super Nintendo, 1998's "Ocarina of Time" for the Nintendo 64, and now "Twilight Princess" for the Nintendo Wii.\nThe difference with "Twilight Princess" is that not only is it the premiere launch title for the Wii, but it's also sort of a final epitaph for the underappreciated Nintendo Gamecube. Having played the game on both consoles, it is an unquestionable work of genius, as it plays to the strengths of both systems.\nIt all boils down to a player's preferred control scheme, as the Wii and Gamecube versions of "Twilight Princess" are essentially identical otherwise. Having owned and beaten the Gamecube version, I must confess to preferring the more traditional controls, but "Twilight Princess'" masterful implementation of the Wii's nunchuck and motion sensing controllers is an accomplishment of which every Playstation and Xbox game developer should be rightly jealous.\nThe story, certainly the darkest and most ominous of all "Zelda" games, establishes a dichotomy between the real world and the world of twilight. As Link tiptoes between both worlds, taking the form of both his hero self and that of a nimble wolf, you'll tackle the toughest dungeons and trickiest puzzles in any "Zelda" title, and enjoy innumerable side quests and a brilliantly realized and expansive incarnation of Hyrule.\nGraphically, "Twilight Princess" stands tall over every previous console generation title, but, even on the Wii, falls slightly short of current generation standards. Fortunately, this is only a minor quibble when the overall scope and execution of "Twilight Princess" is taken into account. The Wii's utilization of widescreen and high-definition capabilities is impressive, but Miyamoto and Aonuma's vision feels right at home on a 4x3 tube TV as well.\nTowering atop the shortlist of 2006's best video game achievements, "Twilight Princess" is an unparalleled marriage of nostalgia and technology. With the next Wii-only "Zelda" installment, "The Phantom Hourglass," already visible on the horizon, this is a time for celebration for all "Zelda" enthusiasts.
(02/01/07 3:23am)
If the initial media reaction to Ang Lee's "Brokeback Mountain" was any indication, you'd think homosexuality was as foreign a concept in 2005 Los Angeles as it was in early-1960s Wyoming. Tune out the faux-horror gasps at the story of two part-time cowboys finding unspoken affection on the range and what you get is an essential human drama where the oft-clichéd concept of forbidden love is updated for a new era. \nAnchoring the film is Heath Ledger in a relatively fearless performance as Ennis del Mar, a sometimes ranch hand often painfully lost for words. Strong supporting roles are afforded Michelle Williams, as Ennis' bewildered wife, Anne Hathaway, as a rodeo-performing spitfire turned bitter spouse, and Jake Gyllenhaal as Jack Twist, the emotive yin to Ennis' inward yang. \nIn retrospect, "Brokeback Mountain" hasn't been forgotten a year later, however, little time has passed since its awards-season buzz machine was silenced. Unfortunately, the reason for this release amounts to little more than a hodgepodge of featurettes and a snazzy package with postcards. While loyal proponents of the film will enjoy mini-docs on everything from Ang Lee's dedication to the project to a peek into the composition of Gustavo Santaolalla's beautiful guitar score, there's only so much affirmation of "Brokeback's" speaking to the harsh nature of love, regardless of sexual orientation, that one needs. \nWhile roughly hewn featurettes on pre-production, screenwriting and filming are of interest to some, they don't make up for this set's most glaring omission: The lack of Ang Lee feature commentary. Insisting on one of the docs that "Brokeback" speaks for itself, it's hard to disagree with Mr. Lee, but his Spielbergian aversion to DVD commentary tracks remains frustrating. \nRevisiting "Brokeback Mountain" nearly a year after its controversial Oscar loss, I'm reminded of why its failure to win Best Picture was so shocking then. The hype surrounding Ennis and Jack's homosexual courtship was effective only at shifting the spotlight from a piece of pure, peerless filmmaking rarely seen these days. Conservative pundits had their time in the sun, and their film won, but its director/screenwriter's persistent, gratuitous moral ejaculations and white guilt keeps nudging it ever closer to the $7.50 bin. "Brokeback"is a great film because it doesn't let us off the hook so easily.
(01/26/07 5:00am)
As usual, 2007's Grammy nominees are an extremely mixed bag. Playing as a kind of semi-discerning alternative to the NOW! That's What I Call Music compilations, this particular mix showcases both a tiny bit of the best and a whole mess of the worst of what 2006 had to offer, with everyone from Paul McCartney to the Pussycat Dolls chipping in. As with any record-exec-arranged mix, especially one that's been hastily compiled by a label dubiously known as "Strategic Marketing," it's best to separate the good from the bad and the bad from the just plain ugly. \nThe Good:\nGnarls Barkley kicks the album off on a high note with "Crazy," a song so good it's virtually hater-proof. The Dixie Chicks' cathartic redemption song "Not Ready to Make Nice" is the year's hottest fuck-you. John Mayer is no friend of the dwindling Bush crowd either with his passively anti-war "Waiting On the World to Change," and The Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Dani California" and Keane's "Is It Any Wonder," both infectious pleasures that are anything but guilty, remind us that rock 'n' roll isn't quite dead yet. \nThe most inspired choices here are also the easiest on the ears. Imogen Heap's seductive, electronic "Hide and Seek" is a rare gem, and Death Cab for Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" is an old-fashioned acoustic respite amid a jumble of radio hits. Sir Paul McCartney makes a brief appearance with "Jenny Wren," the best track from his last solo record. \nThe Bad:\nJustin Timberlake's overplayed and over-quoted "SexyBack" is the best of the bad, but that's not saying much. James Blunt's cloying, syrupy "You're Beautiful" is here, too, just in case you wanted to hear it 50 more times, and Pink's "Stupid Girls" was cool the first time I heard it, but there are certainly far better songs on her latest album to choose from. Of course The Fray is here, representin' the safety-sealed corporate rock stable with "Over My Head (Cable Car)." Advice for The Fray: If you really want to be the next Coldplay, start by writing good songs. Also, I apologize to her legion of fans in advance, but I wish Mary J. Blige and her formulaic "Be Without You" would just go away. \nThe Ugly:\nOnly three of the 23 tracks could be categorized as unlistenable. The Pussycat Dolls' trudging R&B yawn-fest "Stickwitu" is even worse than its title would suggest, and American Idol-winner Carrie Underwood's paean to the Bible Belt, "Jesus, Take the Wheel," is odiously skippable. Bringing up the rear is possibly the worst song in recorded music history, The Black Eyed Peas' painfully awful "My Humps." \nIt's always hard for me to recommend an album that's essentially comprised of cherry-picked hits, but like it or not that's what the Grammys have always been about, or at least the parts of the Grammys that are televised. For a year that saw brilliant LPs by the likes of Bob Dylan, The Decemberists, My Chemical Romance and TV on the Radio, this year's nominee list, as always, just feels thin. At least the Chili Peppers finally get their due.
(01/26/07 5:00am)
As usual, 2007's Grammy nominees are an extremely mixed bag. Playing as a kind of semi-discerning alternative to the NOW! That's What I Call Music compilations, this particular mix showcases both a tiny bit of the best and a whole mess of the worst of what 2006 had to offer, with everyone from Paul McCartney to the Pussycat Dolls chipping in. As with any record-exec-arranged mix, especially one that's been hastily compiled by a label dubiously known as "Strategic Marketing," it's best to separate the good from the bad and the bad from the just plain ugly. \nThe Good:\nGnarls Barkley kicks the album off on a high note with "Crazy," a song so good it's virtually hater-proof. The Dixie Chicks' cathartic redemption song "Not Ready to Make Nice" is the year's hottest fuck-you. John Mayer is no friend of the dwindling Bush crowd either with his passively anti-war "Waiting On the World to Change," and The Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Dani California" and Keane's "Is It Any Wonder," both infectious pleasures that are anything but guilty, remind us that rock 'n' roll isn't quite dead yet. \nThe most inspired choices here are also the easiest on the ears. Imogen Heap's seductive, electronic "Hide and Seek" is a rare gem, and Death Cab for Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" is an old-fashioned acoustic respite amid a jumble of radio hits. Sir Paul McCartney makes a brief appearance with "Jenny Wren," the best track from his last solo record. \nThe Bad:\nJustin Timberlake's overplayed and over-quoted "SexyBack" is the best of the bad, but that's not saying much. James Blunt's cloying, syrupy "You're Beautiful" is here, too, just in case you wanted to hear it 50 more times, and Pink's "Stupid Girls" was cool the first time I heard it, but there are certainly far better songs on her latest album to choose from. Of course The Fray is here, representin' the safety-sealed corporate rock stable with "Over My Head (Cable Car)." Advice for The Fray: If you really want to be the next Coldplay, start by writing good songs. Also, I apologize to her legion of fans in advance, but I wish Mary J. Blige and her formulaic "Be Without You" would just go away. \nThe Ugly:\nOnly three of the 23 tracks could be categorized as unlistenable. The Pussycat Dolls' trudging R&B yawn-fest "Stickwitu" is even worse than its title would suggest, and American Idol-winner Carrie Underwood's paean to the Bible Belt, "Jesus, Take the Wheel," is odiously skippable. Bringing up the rear is possibly the worst song in recorded music history, The Black Eyed Peas' painfully awful "My Humps." \nIt's always hard for me to recommend an album that's essentially comprised of cherry-picked hits, but like it or not that's what the Grammys have always been about, or at least the parts of the Grammys that are televised. For a year that saw brilliant LPs by the likes of Bob Dylan, The Decemberists, My Chemical Romance and TV on the Radio, this year's nominee list, as always, just feels thin. At least the Chili Peppers finally get their due.
(01/26/07 1:35am)
As usual, 2007's Grammy nominees are an extremely mixed bag. Playing as a kind of semi-discerning alternative to the NOW! That's What I Call Music compilations, this particular mix showcases both a tiny bit of the best and a whole mess of the worst of what 2006 had to offer, with everyone from Paul McCartney to the Pussycat Dolls chipping in. As with any record-exec-arranged mix, especially one that's been hastily compiled by a label dubiously known as "Strategic Marketing," it's best to separate the good from the bad and the bad from the just plain ugly. \nThe Good:\nGnarls Barkley kicks the album off on a high note with "Crazy," a song so good it's virtually hater-proof. The Dixie Chicks' cathartic redemption song "Not Ready to Make Nice" is the year's hottest fuck-you. John Mayer is no friend of the dwindling Bush crowd either with his passively anti-war "Waiting On the World to Change," and The Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Dani California" and Keane's "Is It Any Wonder," both infectious pleasures that are anything but guilty, remind us that rock 'n' roll isn't quite dead yet. \nThe most inspired choices here are also the easiest on the ears. Imogen Heap's seductive, electronic "Hide and Seek" is a rare gem, and Death Cab for Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" is an old-fashioned acoustic respite amid a jumble of radio hits. Sir Paul McCartney makes a brief appearance with "Jenny Wren," the best track from his last solo record. \nThe Bad:\nJustin Timberlake's overplayed and over-quoted "SexyBack" is the best of the bad, but that's not saying much. James Blunt's cloying, syrupy "You're Beautiful" is here, too, just in case you wanted to hear it 50 more times, and Pink's "Stupid Girls" was cool the first time I heard it, but there are certainly far better songs on her latest album to choose from. Of course The Fray is here, representin' the safety-sealed corporate rock stable with "Over My Head (Cable Car)." Advice for The Fray: If you really want to be the next Coldplay, start by writing good songs. Also, I apologize to her legion of fans in advance, but I wish Mary J. Blige and her formulaic "Be Without You" would just go away. \nThe Ugly:\nOnly three of the 23 tracks could be categorized as unlistenable. The Pussycat Dolls' trudging R&B yawn-fest "Stickwitu" is even worse than its title would suggest, and American Idol-winner Carrie Underwood's paean to the Bible Belt, "Jesus, Take the Wheel," is odiously skippable. Bringing up the rear is possibly the worst song in recorded music history, The Black Eyed Peas' painfully awful "My Humps." \nIt's always hard for me to recommend an album that's essentially comprised of cherry-picked hits, but like it or not that's what the Grammys have always been about, or at least the parts of the Grammys that are televised. For a year that saw brilliant LPs by the likes of Bob Dylan, The Decemberists, My Chemical Romance and TV on the Radio, this year's nominee list, as always, just feels thin. At least the Chili Peppers finally get their due.
(01/26/07 1:22am)
As usual, 2007's Grammy nominees are an extremely mixed bag. Playing as a kind of semi-discerning alternative to the NOW! That's What I Call Music compilations, this particular mix showcases both a tiny bit of the best and a whole mess of the worst of what 2006 had to offer, with everyone from Paul McCartney to the Pussycat Dolls chipping in. As with any record-exec-arranged mix, especially one that's been hastily compiled by a label dubiously known as "Strategic Marketing," it's best to separate the good from the bad and the bad from the just plain ugly. \nThe Good:\nGnarls Barkley kicks the album off on a high note with "Crazy," a song so good it's virtually hater-proof. The Dixie Chicks' cathartic redemption song "Not Ready to Make Nice" is the year's hottest fuck-you. John Mayer is no friend of the dwindling Bush crowd either with his passively anti-war "Waiting On the World to Change," and The Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Dani California" and Keane's "Is It Any Wonder," both infectious pleasures that are anything but guilty, remind us that rock 'n' roll isn't quite dead yet. \nThe most inspired choices here are also the easiest on the ears. Imogen Heap's seductive, electronic "Hide and Seek" is a rare gem, and Death Cab for Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" is an old-fashioned acoustic respite amid a jumble of radio hits. Sir Paul McCartney makes a brief appearance with "Jenny Wren," the best track from his last solo record. \nThe Bad:\nJustin Timberlake's overplayed and over-quoted "SexyBack" is the best of the bad, but that's not saying much. James Blunt's cloying, syrupy "You're Beautiful" is here, too, just in case you wanted to hear it 50 more times, and Pink's "Stupid Girls" was cool the first time I heard it, but there are certainly far better songs on her latest album to choose from. Of course The Fray is here, representin' the safety-sealed corporate rock stable with "Over My Head (Cable Car)." Advice for The Fray: If you really want to be the next Coldplay, start by writing good songs. Also, I apologize to her legion of fans in advance, but I wish Mary J. Blige and her formulaic "Be Without You" would just go away. \nThe Ugly:\nOnly three of the 23 tracks could be categorized as unlistenable. The Pussycat Dolls' trudging R&B yawn-fest "Stickwitu" is even worse than its title would suggest, and American Idol-winner Carrie Underwood's paean to the Bible Belt, "Jesus, Take the Wheel," is odiously skippable. Bringing up the rear is possibly the worst song in recorded music history, The Black Eyed Peas' painfully awful "My Humps." \nIt's always hard for me to recommend an album that's essentially comprised of cherry-picked hits, but like it or not that's what the Grammys have always been about, or at least the parts of the Grammys that are televised. For a year that saw brilliant LPs by the likes of Bob Dylan, The Decemberists, My Chemical Romance and TV on the Radio, this year's nominee list, as always, just feels thin. At least the Chili Peppers finally get their due.
(01/18/07 5:00am)
Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant, several years removed from creating one of the few funniest shows ever to grace television screens, return with "Extras," a much subtler triumph. The team's original U.K. incarnation of "The Office," so vastly superior to the current U.S. knockoff it cannot be overstated, featured Gervais as much-maligned office manager David Brent, a character not very dissimilar from "Extras"' downtrodden quasi-actor Andy Millman. Gervais portrays both men as hollow jokesters screaming for pity and finding none. \nMuch of the humor in "Extras" is deeply rooted in British social norms and spiked with quick barbs of witty dialogue. Each episode focuses on Millman's "background artist" work on a particular film or television show, and co-stars celebrities like Patrick Stewart, Kate Winslet, Ben Stiller and Samuel L. Jackson as themselves in self-deprecating fashion. \nMaking the most out of their supporting roles are the Scottish-accented Ashley Jensen as Maggie, a kind-hearted, unlucky-in-love extra who is Andy's only friend, and Merchant himself as Andy's hapless agent who is largely reminiscent of "The Office's" Gareth Keenan. \nA possible pitfall of "Extras"' appeal to stateside audiences is that a fair amount of the cultural references herein are so obscurely British that they can elicit confusion, but the majority of Gervais and Merchant's writing is still spot-on. With season one consisting of only six 30-minute episodes on two discs, common among British series, there is an obvious focus on quality over quantity, a lesson most television comedies could learn from. \nSupplements on this set include giddy deleted scenes and outtakes, as well as a featurette called "Finding Leo" chronicling the search for an elusive guest star. Lastly, the amusingly titled behind-the-scenes doc "The Difficult Second Album" is a peek into Gervais and Merchant's initial apprehensions with trying to match the critical reception and accolades afforded "The Office." \nI'm sorry to say that Gervais and Merchant didn't succeed, but what a tough order. Instead, "Extras" is more like the What's the Story (Morning Glory)? to "The Office"'s Definitely Maybe, and, all things considered, that's far from faint praise.
(01/18/07 5:00am)
Functioning as the "Empire Strikes Back" of the as-of-yet-unfinished "Pirates of the Carribean" trilogy (dark, anticlimactic, at times\nunnecessarily complicated), "Dead Man's Chest" showcases most of the best and some of the worst in its genre. Not that "Empire" has any flaws, mind you, but those Dagobah scenes are a test of patience.\nOne part rousing, gorgeously shot and choreographed action and one part laborious, overwrought plot progression, "Dead Man's Chest" works primarily because of its two award-worthy lead characters. Already with a Golden Globe nod, Johnny Depp's iconic Jack Sparrow retains his standing as the only heart and soul of director Gore Verbinski's trilogy, and Bill Nighy's performance as the malevolent Davy Jones (with significant assistance from Industrial Light & Magic) guarantees "Dead Man's Chest" the visual effects Oscar.\nThe finer points of Terry Rossio and Ted Elliott's screenplay are tedious enough on paper, suffice it to say that Jack Sparrow's blood-debt to Davy Jones is the crux of all things. What ensues is a series of action set pieces as over-the-top as anything in "Temple of Doom" punctuated by more talky bits and tonal shifts than almost any movie to surpass $400 million at the U.S. box office.\nOne-disc and two-disc DVD editions are available, with the single disc containing a standard blooper reel and, ironically, full-length audio commentary by Rossio and Elliott as they attempt to explain themselves. The two-disc version features pre-, during and post-production diaries, as well as detailed looks at the character design and motivations of both Jack Sparrow and Davy Jones. Most of the supplements feel either forced or perfunctory, but at least they're all still more interesting than the Disney ride on which the movies are based.\nWith the third and final installment, "At World's End," due this summer, Verbinski's trilogy remains a unique phenomenon in Hollywood: movies with enough adult themes and loving shots of Depp, Orlando Bloom, and the stunning Keira Knightley to keep mature audiences in their seats, and sufficient sophomoric humor, amazing production design and visual effects to keep the kiddies clamoring for more.
(01/18/07 5:00am)
In the loaded pantheon of drug cinema, Richard Linklater's "A Scanner Darkly" falls somewhere in the purgatory between "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle." Based on a Philip K. Dick novel, "Scanner" is the story of Substance D, a sort of crack-on-crack hallucinogen with as many slaves as pushers and quite a reputation in government and law enforcement circles.\nKeanu Reeves is Bob Arctor, a D-addicted divorcee hired by the local police force to rat out his D-addicted buddies, Woody Harrelson, Rory Cochrane, Winona Ryder and a never-punchier Robery Downey Jr. As the film progresses, the opening scene's sense of humor gives way to a melange of paranoia, espionage and the maze of withdrawal. As with many drug films, "Scanner" occasionally takes bigger bites into the drug culture than it can handle, but Linklater does his best to keep everything relatively grounded.\nDespite the quirky performances (especially Downey's hyperactive turn) and Linklater's literate screenplay, "Scanner's" real star is the rotoscoping process. The sole reason we can't take our eyes off the screen as the characters delve ever deeper into their own humorously twisted minds is the graphic novel-esque animation (if you're unfamiliar, think of those unsettling Charles Schwab investment firm commercials) which covers every frame. The effect of this process, which took nearly 500 hours per minute of film to complete, has a trippy quality all its own.\nThe DVD boasts a mostly valuable commentary track with Reeves, Linklater and Dick's daughter Isa, as well as a curious look into the principal live photography of the film. A feature that could've benefitted from further fleshing out is the mini-doc, "The Weight of the Line: Animation Tales," where the painstaking rotoscoping process is briefly detailed, but not afforded an in-depth treatment.\nWhen the credits roll, we're not filled with the sense of redemption and grace of "Trainspotting" or the cathartic jolt of "Fear and Loathing," but more of the lingering malaise that plagues Pink Floyd over Disc 2 of The Wall. For Arctor and the addicted friends upon which he spies, there's no comfort in numbness.
(01/18/07 12:43am)
In the loaded pantheon of drug cinema, Richard Linklater's "A Scanner Darkly" falls somewhere in the purgatory between "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle." Based on a Philip K. Dick novel, "Scanner" is the story of Substance D, a sort of crack-on-crack hallucinogen with as many slaves as pushers and quite a reputation in government and law enforcement circles.\nKeanu Reeves is Bob Arctor, a D-addicted divorcee hired by the local police force to rat out his D-addicted buddies, Woody Harrelson, Rory Cochrane, Winona Ryder and a never-punchier Robery Downey Jr. As the film progresses, the opening scene's sense of humor gives way to a melange of paranoia, espionage and the maze of withdrawal. As with many drug films, "Scanner" occasionally takes bigger bites into the drug culture than it can handle, but Linklater does his best to keep everything relatively grounded.\nDespite the quirky performances (especially Downey's hyperactive turn) and Linklater's literate screenplay, "Scanner's" real star is the rotoscoping process. The sole reason we can't take our eyes off the screen as the characters delve ever deeper into their own humorously twisted minds is the graphic novel-esque animation (if you're unfamiliar, think of those unsettling Charles Schwab investment firm commercials) which covers every frame. The effect of this process, which took nearly 500 hours per minute of film to complete, has a trippy quality all its own.\nThe DVD boasts a mostly valuable commentary track with Reeves, Linklater and Dick's daughter Isa, as well as a curious look into the principal live photography of the film. A feature that could've benefitted from further fleshing out is the mini-doc, "The Weight of the Line: Animation Tales," where the painstaking rotoscoping process is briefly detailed, but not afforded an in-depth treatment.\nWhen the credits roll, we're not filled with the sense of redemption and grace of "Trainspotting" or the cathartic jolt of "Fear and Loathing," but more of the lingering malaise that plagues Pink Floyd over Disc 2 of The Wall. For Arctor and the addicted friends upon which he spies, there's no comfort in numbness.
(01/18/07 12:41am)
Functioning as the "Empire Strikes Back" of the as-of-yet-unfinished "Pirates of the Carribean" trilogy (dark, anticlimactic, at times\nunnecessarily complicated), "Dead Man's Chest" showcases most of the best and some of the worst in its genre. Not that "Empire" has any flaws, mind you, but those Dagobah scenes are a test of patience.\nOne part rousing, gorgeously shot and choreographed action and one part laborious, overwrought plot progression, "Dead Man's Chest" works primarily because of its two award-worthy lead characters. Already with a Golden Globe nod, Johnny Depp's iconic Jack Sparrow retains his standing as the only heart and soul of director Gore Verbinski's trilogy, and Bill Nighy's performance as the malevolent Davy Jones (with significant assistance from Industrial Light & Magic) guarantees "Dead Man's Chest" the visual effects Oscar.\nThe finer points of Terry Rossio and Ted Elliott's screenplay are tedious enough on paper, suffice it to say that Jack Sparrow's blood-debt to Davy Jones is the crux of all things. What ensues is a series of action set pieces as over-the-top as anything in "Temple of Doom" punctuated by more talky bits and tonal shifts than almost any movie to surpass $400 million at the U.S. box office.\nOne-disc and two-disc DVD editions are available, with the single disc containing a standard blooper reel and, ironically, full-length audio commentary by Rossio and Elliott as they attempt to explain themselves. The two-disc version features pre-, during and post-production diaries, as well as detailed looks at the character design and motivations of both Jack Sparrow and Davy Jones. Most of the supplements feel either forced or perfunctory, but at least they're all still more interesting than the Disney ride on which the movies are based.\nWith the third and final installment, "At World's End," due this summer, Verbinski's trilogy remains a unique phenomenon in Hollywood: movies with enough adult themes and loving shots of Depp, Orlando Bloom, and the stunning Keira Knightley to keep mature audiences in their seats, and sufficient sophomoric humor, amazing production design and visual effects to keep the kiddies clamoring for more.
(01/18/07 12:39am)
Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant, several years removed from creating one of the few funniest shows ever to grace television screens, return with "Extras," a much subtler triumph. The team's original U.K. incarnation of "The Office," so vastly superior to the current U.S. knockoff it cannot be overstated, featured Gervais as much-maligned office manager David Brent, a character not very dissimilar from "Extras"' downtrodden quasi-actor Andy Millman. Gervais portrays both men as hollow jokesters screaming for pity and finding none. \nMuch of the humor in "Extras" is deeply rooted in British social norms and spiked with quick barbs of witty dialogue. Each episode focuses on Millman's "background artist" work on a particular film or television show, and co-stars celebrities like Patrick Stewart, Kate Winslet, Ben Stiller and Samuel L. Jackson as themselves in self-deprecating fashion. \nMaking the most out of their supporting roles are the Scottish-accented Ashley Jensen as Maggie, a kind-hearted, unlucky-in-love extra who is Andy's only friend, and Merchant himself as Andy's hapless agent who is largely reminiscent of "The Office's" Gareth Keenan. \nA possible pitfall of "Extras"' appeal to stateside audiences is that a fair amount of the cultural references herein are so obscurely British that they can elicit confusion, but the majority of Gervais and Merchant's writing is still spot-on. With season one consisting of only six 30-minute episodes on two discs, common among British series, there is an obvious focus on quality over quantity, a lesson most television comedies could learn from. \nSupplements on this set include giddy deleted scenes and outtakes, as well as a featurette called "Finding Leo" chronicling the search for an elusive guest star. Lastly, the amusingly titled behind-the-scenes doc "The Difficult Second Album" is a peek into Gervais and Merchant's initial apprehensions with trying to match the critical reception and accolades afforded "The Office." \nI'm sorry to say that Gervais and Merchant didn't succeed, but what a tough order. Instead, "Extras" is more like the What's the Story (Morning Glory)? to "The Office"'s Definitely Maybe, and, all things considered, that's far from faint praise.
(01/13/07 5:21am)
Say what you will about Mel Gibson's drunken anti-Semitic ravings and positively batty television news-magazine interviews. The man is a born filmmaker. Even my own professed secularism won't prevent me from praising "The Passion of the Christ" as a blood-soaked masterstroke, and no overcooked media circus could've kept me from seeing "Apocalypto" on opening night.\nThe story focuses squarely on Jaguar Paw, played with muted ferocity by newcomer Rudy Youngblood, as he is kidnaped along with the rest of his villagers and taken to be sold or sacrificed. Set amongst a painstakingly recreated Mayan landscape -- and spoken entirely in Yucatec Mayan dialect -- "Apocalypto" shifts into fifth gear before and especially after Jaguar Paw escapes his captors, racing against time and enemy to save his pregnant wife and young son.\nMuch has been made of Gibson's penchant for gore, but, while "Apocalypto" boasts many a cringe-worthy money shot, it's certainly tamer than "The Passion." Still, the film isn't designed for the faint of heart or weak of stomach, especially during its last half, when the pace of the action matches the frequency of blood-letting. The gauntlet of obstacles awaiting Jaguar Paw and his pursuers on the way back to the village of the film's opening scenes is pure horror movie material, and Raoul Trujillo's performance as Jaguar Paw's primary pursuer, Zero Wolf, is one of pure, predatory madness.\nWhat Gibson has fashioned here -- and I commend him for doing so -- is a near-perfect action film: light on story and message, all frenetic pacing and finely tuned chase-scene choreography. Those who mine for a message might unearth some sort of warning about society's unfailing ability to destroy itself from within, but I found Gibson saving the only truly sobering scene for last, impressively depicting nothing less than the exact moment when Mayan society and culture was doomed to extinction.
(01/12/07 5:00am)
Say what you will about Mel Gibson's drunken anti-Semitic ravings and positively batty television news-magazine interviews. The man is a born filmmaker. Even my own professed secularism won't prevent me from praising "The Passion of the Christ" as a blood-soaked masterstroke, and no overcooked media circus could've kept me from seeing "Apocalypto" on opening night.\nThe story focuses squarely on Jaguar Paw, played with muted ferocity by newcomer Rudy Youngblood, as he is kidnaped along with the rest of his villagers and taken to be sold or sacrificed. Set amongst a painstakingly recreated Mayan landscape -- and spoken entirely in Yucatec Mayan dialect -- "Apocalypto" shifts into fifth gear before and especially after Jaguar Paw escapes his captors, racing against time and enemy to save his pregnant wife and young son.\nMuch has been made of Gibson's penchant for gore, but, while "Apocalypto" boasts many a cringe-worthy money shot, it's certainly tamer than "The Passion." Still, the film isn't designed for the faint of heart or weak of stomach, especially during its last half, when the pace of the action matches the frequency of blood-letting. The gauntlet of obstacles awaiting Jaguar Paw and his pursuers on the way back to the village of the film's opening scenes is pure horror movie material, and Raoul Trujillo's performance as Jaguar Paw's primary pursuer, Zero Wolf, is one of pure, predatory madness.\nWhat Gibson has fashioned here -- and I commend him for doing so -- is a near-perfect action film: light on story and message, all frenetic pacing and finely tuned chase-scene choreography. Those who mine for a message might unearth some sort of warning about society's unfailing ability to destroy itself from within, but I found Gibson saving the only truly sobering scene for last, impressively depicting nothing less than the exact moment when Mayan society and culture was doomed to extinction.
(12/08/06 7:56pm)
1. My Chemical Romance -- The Black Parade\nMaking the biggest career leap forward in 2006 is New Jersey outfit My Chemical Romance, who by wearing their influences (Queen, Pink Floyd, Bowie) on their sleeves tackled a concept album about a teen dying of cancer and knocked it out of the park. That Gerard Way and his band threw on Sgt. Pepper costumes and pretended they were someone else for awhile is a notable coincidence. By jettisoning the occasional grating vocals of their debut and expanding the pop songcraft of their platinum sophomore release "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge," My Chemical Romance has matured into a band worth watching closely. \nStandout track: "Disenchanted"
(12/08/06 5:00am)
1. My Chemical Romance -- The Black Parade\nMaking the biggest career leap forward in 2006 is New Jersey outfit My Chemical Romance, who by wearing their influences (Queen, Pink Floyd, Bowie) on their sleeves tackled a concept album about a teen dying of cancer and knocked it out of the park. That Gerard Way and his band threw on Sgt. Pepper costumes and pretended they were someone else for awhile is a notable coincidence. By jettisoning the occasional grating vocals of their debut and expanding the pop songcraft of their platinum sophomore release "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge," My Chemical Romance has matured into a band worth watching closely. \nStandout track: "Disenchanted"
(11/16/06 5:00am)
Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe's second project together has none of the same energy or vitality of their last project, "Gladiator," and the pair's upcoming "American Gangster" looks to pack serious heat. For now, though, we have a relatively lighthearted melodrama in "A Good Year," a movie with a concept worthy of a Lifetime Original, but with a unique performance by Crowe that nearly transcends the simple, standard formula.\nThe plot, based on the novel by Peter Mayle, finds Russell Crowe's Max Skinner, a profit-driven British stockbroker, inheriting an expansive vineyard in France from his late uncle (a typically moving Albert Finney). Max is your average power player; obsessed with money and in disregard of the simple, nuanced things in life for favor of the hard bottom line. You might think you know where this is going, and you'd be right. After inheriting the vineyard, where he spent much of his youth, he becomes slowly enamored with life's simpler pleasures, and quaint life lessons are learned as Max begins to favor the big picture over the day's market closing numbers.\nThe film's saving grace is Crowe, who, for all the reasons audiences have to dislike his character, exudes a presence and star quality that make sense of why he's such a sought after actor these days. Carefully balancing Max's despicable qualities with a subtle humor and wit that make him alternately pathetic and sympathetic, Crowe delivers a fully realized character in the midst of a partially realized film. Also delivering is cinematographer Philippe Le Sourd, who makes a case for the south of France as the most aesthetically gorgeous spot on Earth.\nThere are those who argue Scott should stick to action epics, and "A Good Year" mostly proves them to be correct. The movie is allowed to slip into a predictable pattern that films like Scott's own "Gladiator," "Kingdom of Heaven" and "Black Hawk Down" never ventured near, suggesting that Scott weaves his best tales amidst the blood and strife of man's conflict against the violent nature of mankind, not one man's conflict against himself.
(11/16/06 4:13am)
Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe's second project together has none of the same energy or vitality of their last project, "Gladiator," and the pair's upcoming "American Gangster" looks to pack serious heat. For now, though, we have a relatively lighthearted melodrama in "A Good Year," a movie with a concept worthy of a Lifetime Original, but with a unique performance by Crowe that nearly transcends the simple, standard formula.\nThe plot, based on the novel by Peter Mayle, finds Russell Crowe's Max Skinner, a profit-driven British stockbroker, inheriting an expansive vineyard in France from his late uncle (a typically moving Albert Finney). Max is your average power player; obsessed with money and in disregard of the simple, nuanced things in life for favor of the hard bottom line. You might think you know where this is going, and you'd be right. After inheriting the vineyard, where he spent much of his youth, he becomes slowly enamored with life's simpler pleasures, and quaint life lessons are learned as Max begins to favor the big picture over the day's market closing numbers.\nThe film's saving grace is Crowe, who, for all the reasons audiences have to dislike his character, exudes a presence and star quality that make sense of why he's such a sought after actor these days. Carefully balancing Max's despicable qualities with a subtle humor and wit that make him alternately pathetic and sympathetic, Crowe delivers a fully realized character in the midst of a partially realized film. Also delivering is cinematographer Philippe Le Sourd, who makes a case for the south of France as the most aesthetically gorgeous spot on Earth.\nThere are those who argue Scott should stick to action epics, and "A Good Year" mostly proves them to be correct. The movie is allowed to slip into a predictable pattern that films like Scott's own "Gladiator," "Kingdom of Heaven" and "Black Hawk Down" never ventured near, suggesting that Scott weaves his best tales amidst the blood and strife of man's conflict against the violent nature of mankind, not one man's conflict against himself.
(11/09/06 8:42pm)
As someone who used to listen to The Who's 1971 album Who's Next once a day for about a year, I can tell you that their first studio effort since 1982's It's Hard is, in fact, hard. Hard in a good way, though. Contrary to 1969's rock opera "Tommy," which consisted of a smattering of excellent full-length compositions stitched together with small fragments of tracks that served the purpose of gelling the narrative, Endless Wire is frontloaded with full songs, saving its own mini-opera for tracks 10 through 21.\nThere are many factors that make Endless Wire both a frustrating and rewarding experience for longtime Who fans. The most frustrating factor is the most unavoidable. The band's frenetic drummer, Keith Moon, passed away in 1978, and 2002 saw the untimely passing of one of the most lyrical bassists in rock history in John Entwistle. Remaining members Pete Townshend (guitars, lyrics, music, backing vocals) and Roger Daltrey (lead vocals, theatricality, gravitas) are left virtually on their own to bring the compositions to life. Along with competent assistance from session bassist Pino Palladino and drummer Zak "Ringo's kid" Starkey, Townshend and Daltrey make a spirited go of it.\nAs for the songs, many of them are Townshend's best since the Who By Numbers era. "Fragments" commences with synth blips reminiscent of "Baba O'Riley" and brings to life Townshend's new kind of antithetical wasteland. The rest of side one finds Townshend flexing his impressive but rarely seen acoustic chops on "A Man in a Purple Dress," "God Speaks of Marty Robbins," and "Two Thousand Years," and recalling The Who's glory days with the stunners "Mike Post Theme" and "It's Not Enough." The only real clunker among the first nine tracks is the bizarre "In the Ether," which finds Townshend taking over on vocals with a bizarre, croaking delivery.\nAt album's end, the most rewarding aspect of the whole experience is having heard an album 24 years and its own share of tragedies and triumphs in the making. While it doesn't hold even half a candle to Who classics like Quadrophenia and The Who Sell Out, Endless Wire is an impressive, cerebral and forward-looking collection. In an age where other dinosaurs like The Rolling Stones, U2 and Springsteen seem to be stuck in their own personal holding patterns, The Who continue to at least suggest innovation in their twilight years.
(11/09/06 5:00am)
As someone who used to listen to The Who's 1971 album Who's Next once a day for about a year, I can tell you that their first studio effort since 1982's It's Hard is, in fact, hard. Hard in a good way, though. Contrary to 1969's rock opera "Tommy," which consisted of a smattering of excellent full-length compositions stitched together with small fragments of tracks that served the purpose of gelling the narrative, Endless Wire is frontloaded with full songs, saving its own mini-opera for tracks 10 through 21.\nThere are many factors that make Endless Wire both a frustrating and rewarding experience for longtime Who fans. The most frustrating factor is the most unavoidable. The band's frenetic drummer, Keith Moon, passed away in 1978, and 2002 saw the untimely passing of one of the most lyrical bassists in rock history in John Entwistle. Remaining members Pete Townshend (guitars, lyrics, music, backing vocals) and Roger Daltrey (lead vocals, theatricality, gravitas) are left virtually on their own to bring the compositions to life. Along with competent assistance from session bassist Pino Palladino and drummer Zak "Ringo's kid" Starkey, Townshend and Daltrey make a spirited go of it.\nAs for the songs, many of them are Townshend's best since the Who By Numbers era. "Fragments" commences with synth blips reminiscent of "Baba O'Riley" and brings to life Townshend's new kind of antithetical wasteland. The rest of side one finds Townshend flexing his impressive but rarely seen acoustic chops on "A Man in a Purple Dress," "God Speaks of Marty Robbins," and "Two Thousand Years," and recalling The Who's glory days with the stunners "Mike Post Theme" and "It's Not Enough." The only real clunker among the first nine tracks is the bizarre "In the Ether," which finds Townshend taking over on vocals with a bizarre, croaking delivery.\nAt album's end, the most rewarding aspect of the whole experience is having heard an album 24 years and its own share of tragedies and triumphs in the making. While it doesn't hold even half a candle to Who classics like Quadrophenia and The Who Sell Out, Endless Wire is an impressive, cerebral and forward-looking collection. In an age where other dinosaurs like The Rolling Stones, U2 and Springsteen seem to be stuck in their own personal holding patterns, The Who continue to at least suggest innovation in their twilight years.