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(10/26/06 7:20pm)
Before those who presume themselves moral authority figures engage in a holy crusade against a video game, they ought to be required to understand the game's true content. Decried by fraudulent watchdog groups like Focus on the Family as a "Columbine simulator" before it even had a playable demo, Rockstar's "Bully" is actually an endearingly funny, thoughtful -- and yes, at times, mean-spirited -- take on life at a New England private school through the eyes of Jimmy Hopkins, a precocious 15-year-old trying to survive his freshman year.\nAs tempting as the analogy might be, this is not "Grand Theft Auto" in high school. Whereas other Rockstar titles like "Manhunt" and "Red Dead Revolver" turned wanton violence, gore and profanity into an art form, the most dangerous instruments of warfare in "Bully" are M-80s and itching powder, and the deadliest weapons are the taunts of Jimmy's peers.\nImmersion has long remained Rockstar's speciality, and "Bully" depends on a strong, nuanced story line even more than "GTA: San Andreas," so much so that "Bully" ends up feeling more like a role-playing game than an actioner. By the end of the lengthy Chapter 1 tutorial (roughly four to five hours in), players will have a deep knowledge of the Bullworth Academy campus and what makes it tick. Not long after, a gate to the surrounding towns is unlocked, expanding "Bully's" scope five-fold.\nGraphically, "Bully" isn't the industry's most polished product, but its slightly rudimentary look serves as quirky a purpose as its story line. The gameplay resembles "Grand Theft Auto" in terms of dynamics and physics, but in many ways Jimmy Hopkins feels more alive and organic than Carl Johnson ever did.\n"Bully" relies heavily on a throng of voice actors, and while a few seem to be phoning it in, the vast majority take their roles and run with them. Also of particular note is the original score by Shawn Lee, which synchs effectively with all the game's elements.\nIgnore any pre-release controversy and play the game for what it really is: an impressive effort by Rockstar Vancouver that's yet another installment in Rockstar's near-perfect track record. Jimmy Hopkins' freshman year at Bullworth Academy is one of the most lively and compelling stories told on consoles in quite some time.
(10/26/06 4:00am)
Before those who presume themselves moral authority figures engage in a holy crusade against a video game, they ought to be required to understand the game's true content. Decried by fraudulent watchdog groups like Focus on the Family as a "Columbine simulator" before it even had a playable demo, Rockstar's "Bully" is actually an endearingly funny, thoughtful -- and yes, at times, mean-spirited -- take on life at a New England private school through the eyes of Jimmy Hopkins, a precocious 15-year-old trying to survive his freshman year.\nAs tempting as the analogy might be, this is not "Grand Theft Auto" in high school. Whereas other Rockstar titles like "Manhunt" and "Red Dead Revolver" turned wanton violence, gore and profanity into an art form, the most dangerous instruments of warfare in "Bully" are M-80s and itching powder, and the deadliest weapons are the taunts of Jimmy's peers.\nImmersion has long remained Rockstar's speciality, and "Bully" depends on a strong, nuanced story line even more than "GTA: San Andreas," so much so that "Bully" ends up feeling more like a role-playing game than an actioner. By the end of the lengthy Chapter 1 tutorial (roughly four to five hours in), players will have a deep knowledge of the Bullworth Academy campus and what makes it tick. Not long after, a gate to the surrounding towns is unlocked, expanding "Bully's" scope five-fold.\nGraphically, "Bully" isn't the industry's most polished product, but its slightly rudimentary look serves as quirky a purpose as its story line. The gameplay resembles "Grand Theft Auto" in terms of dynamics and physics, but in many ways Jimmy Hopkins feels more alive and organic than Carl Johnson ever did.\n"Bully" relies heavily on a throng of voice actors, and while a few seem to be phoning it in, the vast majority take their roles and run with them. Also of particular note is the original score by Shawn Lee, which synchs effectively with all the game's elements.\nIgnore any pre-release controversy and play the game for what it really is: an impressive effort by Rockstar Vancouver that's yet another installment in Rockstar's near-perfect track record. Jimmy Hopkins' freshman year at Bullworth Academy is one of the most lively and compelling stories told on consoles in quite some time.
(10/24/06 9:18pm)
The sixth and best studio album of Bruce Springsteen's 33-year recording career contains none of the anthemic grandeur present in his previous five records. There are no sax solos or rousing hymns to the working man, and there's nary a hit single to be found. In fact, the only thing on display during Nebraska's stark 41 minutes is Springsteen's voice, harmonica and the forlorn ripples of an acoustic guitar.\nThe usual cast characters (honest, sincere men and women trying to weave their way through a world of hardships occasionally punctuated by fleeting moments of pleasure, release, redemption or transcendence) that populate Springsteen's songs are replaced here by a sordid, suspicious and more downcast lot. The title track recounts the story of the Charlie Starkweather/Caril Ann Fugate murders also dramatized in Terrence Malick's 1973 film "Badlands," and "Johnny 99" tells the tale of a man who drunkenly murders a convenience store clerk only to receive 99 years in prison. "Atlantic City" focuses on a criminal for hire, and both the epic "Highway Patrolman" and ghostly "State Trooper" dive into the tortured psyches of murderers and those who care for them despite their misdeeds.\nNot all the songs deal with criminals, however. The somber "Mansion on the Hill" depicts a simple man living in a town overshadowed by an imposing mansion atop the hill outside of town, and how the goings-on around the house inspired in him a mix of awe and fear as a child and still today. "Used Cars" might well be the most emotional track on the record, with Springsteen detailing a low-income family's search for a suitable automobile, while "Open All Night" is to Nebraska what "Prove It All Night" was to Darkness on the Edge of Town; a desperate ode to getting home to your girl.\n"My Fathers House" and "Reason to Believe" are poignant album closers, the former painting a surrealist dreamscape as its protagonist fights his way through the branches and brambles to find his fathers home, only to discover it, in reality, vacated. The latter, despite its imagery of dead dogs and graveyards, represents a flicker of daylight penetrating the darkness of the rest of the record.\nNebraska is a testament to Springsteen's awe-inspiring deftness with characterization, lyricism and song craft, as well as to the singular austere quality of his voice. Regardless of all the murderers and hopeless characters found on Nebraska, the albums final lines echo with hope in the face of the impossible.\n"Congregation gathers down by the riverside / Preacher stands with his Bible / Groom stands waitin' for his bride / Congregation gone / The sun sets behind a weepin' willow tree / Groom stands alone and watches the river rush on so effortlessly / Wonderin' where can his baby be / Still at the end of every hard-earned day people find some reason to believe"
(10/19/06 4:00am)
Three episodes into its third Season, ABC's "Lost" is showing no signs of becoming the next "X-Files." Sure, the show has its share of mysterious happenings, quirky characters and purposely unexplained plot devices, but, along with being one of the consistently highest-rated (Nielsen, as well as critically) shows on television, "Lost" has finally cemented in place a cult fanbase as in awe and reverence of the show's undeniably attractive cast as it is with its ever-deepening lore.\nStill, there are many "Lost" fans for whom the constant pileup of new unanswered questions has become more frustrating than intriguing. So far this season, we've learned Henry Gale's real name, that James Ford possesses less mechanical knowledge than an average polar bear, and most importantly, that the Others hold regular book club meetings. But what about all the questions, most still lingering from Season One, that the producers and writers have chosen to leave unanswered? Below are 10 of the show's most puzzling, unexplained mysteries, followed by my most educated guess as to their solution as a loyal member of the cult of "Lost."\nQuestion: What exactly is that scary monster made of black smoke prowling the island, killing pilots and ripping trees out of the ground?\nLikely answer: The black smoke is a function of island security that's been given the name Cerberus (as seen on Locke's blacklight map, in reference to the three-headed dog that guarded the gates of Hell in Greco-Roman mythology). As for its composition, Cerberus is made of metallic particles controlled by the island's electromagnetic properties. It was engineered by the Hanso Foundation's Electromagnetic Research Initiative, but its reasons for discretion in choosing victims is unknown.\nQuestion: What is the real significance of Hurley's infamous numbers? 4 8 15 16 23 42... 4 8 15 16 23 42... 4 8 15 16 23 42.\nLikely answer: The numbers are part of the Valenzetti Equation, a mathematical theorem proposed by a Princeton University mathematician named Enzo Valenzetti. Essentially a doomsday equation, Valenzetti designed his theorem to predict the exact number of years until the extinction of the human race. Used in conjunction with the Dharma Initiative's and Hanso Foundation's experiments to elongate and enhance human life, the numbers have become a mantra to those who understand their significance.\nQuestion: Why is there a giant stone statue of a disembodied four-toed foot on the other side of the island? Was there an ancient civilization there at one time?\nLikely answer: The foot is the remainder of a much larger statue built by an ancient civilization wiped out by a extinction-level event in the island's past. The statue was broken apart and mostly washed out to sea by the same tsunami that brought the Black Rock (a slave ship from Season One) to rest in the Dark Territory.\nQuestion: Concerning the Others, what exactly are these people up to, anyway? Are they members of the Dharma Initiative, or is that project defunct, leaving these poor souls behind?\nLikely answer: As recently explained by Ben Linus, most of the Others have lived on the island for their entire life, yet remain connected to the outside world via media outlets. They have no formal connection to the Dharma Initiative, yet understand the importance of the Initiative's experiments, and have continued some of them in its absence. They live in their own village or villages around the island, and have taken it upon themselves to initiate some of the "good" crash survivors into their attempt at a utopian society. Their experiments on those like Walt and Claire are extensions of former Hanso projects, and done presumably to better (and populate) their own society.\nQuestion: How are the Others so connected to the outside world when no one in the outside world can find the island (except when the occasional cataclysmic discharge of electromagnetic energy is released)?\nLikely answer: Once the Dharma Initiative participants abandoned their posts, they kept up communication with the Others and fed them information from the outside world in order to further assist what projects the Others were continuing. Powerful corporate figures such as Charles Widmore, having access to personal information about anyone they chose to investigate, provided the Others with information about the castaways. The Others know how to leave the island if they desire, but would rather live their lives free of the constraints of the modern world. They understand the implications of the Valenzetti Equation, and would rather ride out the end of human existence on their own island.\nQuestion: Does the island have the ability to heal people? If so, why was Rousseau so concerned about the island's ability to make people sick? Is there a correlation between the power that returned Locke the use of his legs and the property that wiped out Rousseau's entire team?\nLikely answer: As told to Rose by Isaac of Uluru, there are places on Earth that emanate a certain energy that can be used to heal sickness and injury. The island is one of those places, and it's powerful electromagnetic fields somehow healed Locke's legs, Rose's cancer, and Jin's sterility. As for the "sickness," it is a false threat concocted by the Dharma Initiative to keep its subjects in check. Rousseau's insistence that it killed her team is due to her evidenced mental instability.\nQuestion: Looking roughly 90 episodes into the future, how can "Lost" possibly come to a satisfying and coherent end?\nLikely answer: It can't, at least not for everyone. There's no way to end a confounding, detailed series like "Lost" without pissing off a certain contingent of its fans. What the writers can do is tie up as many loose ends as possible, conclude as many multi-season character arcs as time will allow and go so far as to either prove or disprove the Valenzetti Equation's forecast. "Lost" will end either with the resolution of each remaining character's validation as a "good person," or with the end of the world as we know it. The former sounds like the best way to end a series of this type, but the latter should never be removed from the realm of possibility.
(10/19/06 3:47am)
Three episodes into its third Season, ABC's "Lost" is showing no signs of becoming the next "X-Files." Sure, the show has its share of mysterious happenings, quirky characters and purposely unexplained plot devices, but, along with being one of the consistently highest-rated (Nielsen, as well as critically) shows on television, "Lost" has finally cemented in place a cult fanbase as in awe and reverence of the show's undeniably attractive cast as it is with its ever-deepening lore.\nStill, there are many "Lost" fans for whom the constant pileup of new unanswered questions has become more frustrating than intriguing. So far this season, we've learned Henry Gale's real name, that James Ford possesses less mechanical knowledge than an average polar bear, and most importantly, that the Others hold regular book club meetings. But what about all the questions, most still lingering from Season One, that the producers and writers have chosen to leave unanswered? Below are 10 of the show's most puzzling, unexplained mysteries, followed by my most educated guess as to their solution as a loyal member of the cult of "Lost."\nQuestion: What exactly is that scary monster made of black smoke prowling the island, killing pilots and ripping trees out of the ground?\nLikely answer: The black smoke is a function of island security that's been given the name Cerberus (as seen on Locke's blacklight map, in reference to the three-headed dog that guarded the gates of Hell in Greco-Roman mythology). As for its composition, Cerberus is made of metallic particles controlled by the island's electromagnetic properties. It was engineered by the Hanso Foundation's Electromagnetic Research Initiative, but its reasons for discretion in choosing victims is unknown.\nQuestion: What is the real significance of Hurley's infamous numbers? 4 8 15 16 23 42... 4 8 15 16 23 42... 4 8 15 16 23 42.\nLikely answer: The numbers are part of the Valenzetti Equation, a mathematical theorem proposed by a Princeton University mathematician named Enzo Valenzetti. Essentially a doomsday equation, Valenzetti designed his theorem to predict the exact number of years until the extinction of the human race. Used in conjunction with the Dharma Initiative's and Hanso Foundation's experiments to elongate and enhance human life, the numbers have become a mantra to those who understand their significance.\nQuestion: Why is there a giant stone statue of a disembodied four-toed foot on the other side of the island? Was there an ancient civilization there at one time?\nLikely answer: The foot is the remainder of a much larger statue built by an ancient civilization wiped out by a extinction-level event in the island's past. The statue was broken apart and mostly washed out to sea by the same tsunami that brought the Black Rock (a slave ship from Season One) to rest in the Dark Territory.\nQuestion: Concerning the Others, what exactly are these people up to, anyway? Are they members of the Dharma Initiative, or is that project defunct, leaving these poor souls behind?\nLikely answer: As recently explained by Ben Linus, most of the Others have lived on the island for their entire life, yet remain connected to the outside world via media outlets. They have no formal connection to the Dharma Initiative, yet understand the importance of the Initiative's experiments, and have continued some of them in its absence. They live in their own village or villages around the island, and have taken it upon themselves to initiate some of the "good" crash survivors into their attempt at a utopian society. Their experiments on those like Walt and Claire are extensions of former Hanso projects, and done presumably to better (and populate) their own society.\nQuestion: How are the Others so connected to the outside world when no one in the outside world can find the island (except when the occasional cataclysmic discharge of electromagnetic energy is released)?\nLikely answer: Once the Dharma Initiative participants abandoned their posts, they kept up communication with the Others and fed them information from the outside world in order to further assist what projects the Others were continuing. Powerful corporate figures such as Charles Widmore, having access to personal information about anyone they chose to investigate, provided the Others with information about the castaways. The Others know how to leave the island if they desire, but would rather live their lives free of the constraints of the modern world. They understand the implications of the Valenzetti Equation, and would rather ride out the end of human existence on their own island.\nQuestion: Does the island have the ability to heal people? If so, why was Rousseau so concerned about the island's ability to make people sick? Is there a correlation between the power that returned Locke the use of his legs and the property that wiped out Rousseau's entire team?\nLikely answer: As told to Rose by Isaac of Uluru, there are places on Earth that emanate a certain energy that can be used to heal sickness and injury. The island is one of those places, and it's powerful electromagnetic fields somehow healed Locke's legs, Rose's cancer, and Jin's sterility. As for the "sickness," it is a false threat concocted by the Dharma Initiative to keep its subjects in check. Rousseau's insistence that it killed her team is due to her evidenced mental instability.\nQuestion: Looking roughly 90 episodes into the future, how can "Lost" possibly come to a satisfying and coherent end?\nLikely answer: It can't, at least not for everyone. There's no way to end a confounding, detailed series like "Lost" without pissing off a certain contingent of its fans. What the writers can do is tie up as many loose ends as possible, conclude as many multi-season character arcs as time will allow and go so far as to either prove or disprove the Valenzetti Equation's forecast. "Lost" will end either with the resolution of each remaining character's validation as a "good person," or with the end of the world as we know it. The former sounds like the best way to end a series of this type, but the latter should never be removed from the realm of possibility.
(10/12/06 4:00am)
Rummaging through my DVD collection to pick out the best films of the past decade, a few heavy-hitters become apparent. "Saving Private Ryan," "Magnolia," "Eyes Wide Shut" and "The Thin Red Line" come immediately to mind, but besting all comers is the Coen brothers' black comic masterpiece "Fargo." Supposedly based on actual events, "Fargo" is nothing if not surreal, yet it anchors itself among the mundane world of the Midwest, showing how murder and greed can corrupt even the most genial locales.\nThe plot is deceptively simple. Mild-mannered car salesman Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy), in dire financial straits, opts to have his wife kidnapped by hired thugs. They believe the ransom is $80,000, while Jerry tells his rich father-in-law Wade Gustafson (Harve Presnell), who will be paying the sum, that the total demanded is far more. Jerry plans to pocket the remainder after giving the thugs their share. Once the first of many bodies piles up, none of this matters.\nSteve Buscemi and Peter Stormare play Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud with a criminal-mindedness that rivals Travolta and Jackson in "Pulp Fiction." While not nearly as likable as that pair, the duo play perfect foils; Carl, a high-strung, loquacious opportunist, and Gaear a calm, silent murderer. Our hero, though, shows up half an hour into the film with morning sickness. Marge Gunderson, a local police chief investigating a few mysterious murders, exudes a totally sincere Minnesotan charm that led Frances McDormand to an Oscar for Best Actress.\nThere are several sequences in "Fargo" with an impact that ranks among the best of modern cinema. The kidnapping of Mrs. Lundegaard is dark comic gold, and Marge's meeting and subsequent revelation involving an old high school friend are positively queasy. Carl's demise via axe and wood chipper, as well as unanswered questions concerning the eventual fate of Wade's body and the Lundegaards' son Scotty, are gut-twisting. Carter Burwell's modestly epic orchestral score and the snowy cinematography by Roger Deakins complement most scenes unforgettably.\nDespite its dark subject matter, "Fargo" has a huge heart by way of Marge and her husband, Norm. During Marge's final exchange with Gaear, she postulates, "There's more to life than a little money, ya know. Doncha know that? And here ya are. And it's a beautiful day." None of the bad guys know that. Jerry, Carl and Gaear are metaphors for a world consumed by its own passive-aggressiveness, and Marge is the ever-elusive panacea. "Fargo" will stand the test of time as an iconic example of when black comedy, social commentary, a pitch-perfect casting job and screenplay all come together.
(10/12/06 4:00am)
When describing his life's work, director Martin Scorsese once made the astute observation that cinema is "a matter of what's in the frame and what's out." After seeing his latest masterwork, "The Departed," thrice already, I think I can better understand what he meant.\nDon't fret. This is not a glowing review of "The Departed" from a longtime Scorsese devotee. I'll leave that to my esteemed colleague in this issue's Reviews section.\nThis is, however, my attempt to decipher what exactly makes Martin Scorsese, after more than 20 feature films and 40 years in the business, the greatest American film director alive today.\nFace value would suggest this is an easy task. He makes great films, and why not leave it at that? Many of Scorsese's peers, from Spielberg to Malick to Altman, are alive and making great films, too, and yet these directors' films, despite all their inherent style and impact, don't feel quite as vital and organic as a Scorsese picture. This is a filmmaker whose relative failures ("Bringing Out the Dead," "Cape Fear," "Kundun") still runneth over with their maker's wellspring of talent and ideas.\nMy knowledge of Scorsese's filmography begins in the mid-to-late 1970's. I've never seen "Boxcar Bertha" or "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore," and it's been years since I watched "The King of Comedy." After watching "The Departed" last weekend, I was inspired to revisit the majority of my Scorsese DVDs. What I began to notice after re-watching "GoodFellas," "Mean Streets," "Casino," "Taxi Driver," Raging Bull," The Aviator" and "Gangs of New York" is how so many aspects of those films showcase Scorsese's personal filmmaking flair in such a way that it resonates with audiences long after they leave the theatre (or power off the DVD player).\nIf anyone deserves as much credit for making Scorsese's films tick, it's his longtime editor, Thelma Schoonmaker. From her dizzying, almost schizophrenic work in "GoodFellas" to the wonders she works in "The Departed," Scorsese and Schoonmaker's work over the last quarter century has defined the pacing of modern films. Rather than simply editing scenes together in a coherent, logical way, Schoonmaker, instead, cuts for a specific aesthetic effect; often interpolating multiple scenes at once to highlight their combined correlated effects. Working on her first feature film with Scorsese, 1980's "Raging Bull," her cutting of Robert De Niro's boxing scenes made the viewers feel like they were the ones being beaten bloody. In short, the editing in a Scorsese film often achieves that rare effect of making audiences feel the action and the emotions of the characters, for better or worse.\nAlways responsible for the soundtrack selections and music cues in his films, Scorsese has an ability surpassing any director other than Quentin Tarantino for using music as a means to enhance scenarios that would otherwise be mundane or perfunctory. From the traditional Irish immigrant songs used to further authenticate "Gangs of New York" to the drug-fueled amalgam of classic rock that accompanies Henry Hill's run from a helicopter in "GoodFellas," every song is chosen for calculated effect. The cathartic usage of the Dropkick Murphy's Woody Guthrie cover "I'm Shipping Up to Boston" in "The Departed" is further proof that when it comes to making the most of music's massive effect when combined with film, very few if anyone has as sharp an ear as Scorsese.\nMost modern directors use violence for exploitative purposes. Scorsese, contrarily, employs his bullets and blood with operatic effect. When Travis Bickle in "Taxi Driver" finally reaches his breaking point, his rampage against a pimp and his brothel plays out like a Greek tragedy of gore. The depiction of Howard Hughes' plane crash in "The Aviator" uses the eccentric icon's own blood as a metaphor for his grandiose failures, and the opening battle in "Gangs of New York" is the closest thing Scorsese has ever filmed to a pure bloodbath; the red vino spurting from the immigrants' veins becoming part of the foundation on which New York City was built.\nBuilding strong relationships with actors must be in the repertoire of any great director, and Scorsese's aptness for this has been evidenced by his close relationships with both Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio. Aside from coaxing brilliant performances out of these men at every turn, he also built their careers, for which they both owe him major debt. Based on his turns in "Mean Streets," "Taxi Driver" and "Raging Bull," De Niro went on to a legendary career that only led him back to Scorsese for his best roles of the 1990's in "GoodFellas" and "Casino." DiCaprio, once given credit only as a teen idol, used roles in "Gangs of New York," "The Aviator," and his finest performance ever in "The Departed" as a springboard to a seriously respected dramatic career. With his ability to draw memorable performances out of all of his stars, as well as forge lasting relationships with the best of them, Scorsese has proven himself an actors' director of the highest order.\nMuch has been made of "The Departed" being a return to form for Scorsese, as if to say his only great films are crime yarns. While the crime genre is where he appears to feel most at home, it is certainly not his fallback. Whether working in the realm of biopics ("The Aviator," "Raging Bull"), comedy ("The King of Comedy," "After Hours") or documentary ("The Last Waltz," "No Direction Home: Bob Dylan"), Scorsese brings the same intensity to every project, and can truly be called a renaissance man in the filmmaking realm.\nMy search to pinpoint what makes Martin Scorsese our greatest living American director seems to, after all aspects of sight and sound have been analyzed, come to a halt more so in the realm of the intangible. What he brings to each and every one of his films can be felt, seen and heard on the screen, but at that same time it's sensed as more of a cumulative effect of all those things, with no particular single aspect rushing to the fore.\nIt could simply be supposed that, more than any living American director, Scorsese's deep love of the filmmaking craft finds its way into the frame most successfully. The difference between Scorsese and his contemporaries -- the single aspect of his films that elevates them above the level on which most other directors are working today -- lies in what's in the frame and what's out. \nWhen reminiscing about his youth, Scorsese is often quoted as saying "I just wanted to be an ordinary parish priest." For the sake of the film-going community, let us give thanks that he ultimately chose a different career path.
(10/12/06 3:06am)
When describing his life's work, director Martin Scorsese once made the astute observation that cinema is "a matter of what's in the frame and what's out." After seeing his latest masterwork, "The Departed," thrice already, I think I can better understand what he meant.\nDon't fret. This is not a glowing review of "The Departed" from a longtime Scorsese devotee. I'll leave that to my esteemed colleague in this issue's Reviews section.\nThis is, however, my attempt to decipher what exactly makes Martin Scorsese, after more than 20 feature films and 40 years in the business, the greatest American film director alive today.\nFace value would suggest this is an easy task. He makes great films, and why not leave it at that? Many of Scorsese's peers, from Spielberg to Malick to Altman, are alive and making great films, too, and yet these directors' films, despite all their inherent style and impact, don't feel quite as vital and organic as a Scorsese picture. This is a filmmaker whose relative failures ("Bringing Out the Dead," "Cape Fear," "Kundun") still runneth over with their maker's wellspring of talent and ideas.\nMy knowledge of Scorsese's filmography begins in the mid-to-late 1970's. I've never seen "Boxcar Bertha" or "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore," and it's been years since I watched "The King of Comedy." After watching "The Departed" last weekend, I was inspired to revisit the majority of my Scorsese DVDs. What I began to notice after re-watching "GoodFellas," "Mean Streets," "Casino," "Taxi Driver," Raging Bull," The Aviator" and "Gangs of New York" is how so many aspects of those films showcase Scorsese's personal filmmaking flair in such a way that it resonates with audiences long after they leave the theatre (or power off the DVD player).\nIf anyone deserves as much credit for making Scorsese's films tick, it's his longtime editor, Thelma Schoonmaker. From her dizzying, almost schizophrenic work in "GoodFellas" to the wonders she works in "The Departed," Scorsese and Schoonmaker's work over the last quarter century has defined the pacing of modern films. Rather than simply editing scenes together in a coherent, logical way, Schoonmaker, instead, cuts for a specific aesthetic effect; often interpolating multiple scenes at once to highlight their combined correlated effects. Working on her first feature film with Scorsese, 1980's "Raging Bull," her cutting of Robert De Niro's boxing scenes made the viewers feel like they were the ones being beaten bloody. In short, the editing in a Scorsese film often achieves that rare effect of making audiences feel the action and the emotions of the characters, for better or worse.\nAlways responsible for the soundtrack selections and music cues in his films, Scorsese has an ability surpassing any director other than Quentin Tarantino for using music as a means to enhance scenarios that would otherwise be mundane or perfunctory. From the traditional Irish immigrant songs used to further authenticate "Gangs of New York" to the drug-fueled amalgam of classic rock that accompanies Henry Hill's run from a helicopter in "GoodFellas," every song is chosen for calculated effect. The cathartic usage of the Dropkick Murphy's Woody Guthrie cover "I'm Shipping Up to Boston" in "The Departed" is further proof that when it comes to making the most of music's massive effect when combined with film, very few if anyone has as sharp an ear as Scorsese.\nMost modern directors use violence for exploitative purposes. Scorsese, contrarily, employs his bullets and blood with operatic effect. When Travis Bickle in "Taxi Driver" finally reaches his breaking point, his rampage against a pimp and his brothel plays out like a Greek tragedy of gore. The depiction of Howard Hughes' plane crash in "The Aviator" uses the eccentric icon's own blood as a metaphor for his grandiose failures, and the opening battle in "Gangs of New York" is the closest thing Scorsese has ever filmed to a pure bloodbath; the red vino spurting from the immigrants' veins becoming part of the foundation on which New York City was built.\nBuilding strong relationships with actors must be in the repertoire of any great director, and Scorsese's aptness for this has been evidenced by his close relationships with both Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio. Aside from coaxing brilliant performances out of these men at every turn, he also built their careers, for which they both owe him major debt. Based on his turns in "Mean Streets," "Taxi Driver" and "Raging Bull," De Niro went on to a legendary career that only led him back to Scorsese for his best roles of the 1990's in "GoodFellas" and "Casino." DiCaprio, once given credit only as a teen idol, used roles in "Gangs of New York," "The Aviator," and his finest performance ever in "The Departed" as a springboard to a seriously respected dramatic career. With his ability to draw memorable performances out of all of his stars, as well as forge lasting relationships with the best of them, Scorsese has proven himself an actors' director of the highest order.\nMuch has been made of "The Departed" being a return to form for Scorsese, as if to say his only great films are crime yarns. While the crime genre is where he appears to feel most at home, it is certainly not his fallback. Whether working in the realm of biopics ("The Aviator," "Raging Bull"), comedy ("The King of Comedy," "After Hours") or documentary ("The Last Waltz," "No Direction Home: Bob Dylan"), Scorsese brings the same intensity to every project, and can truly be called a renaissance man in the filmmaking realm.\nMy search to pinpoint what makes Martin Scorsese our greatest living American director seems to, after all aspects of sight and sound have been analyzed, come to a halt more so in the realm of the intangible. What he brings to each and every one of his films can be felt, seen and heard on the screen, but at that same time it's sensed as more of a cumulative effect of all those things, with no particular single aspect rushing to the fore.\nIt could simply be supposed that, more than any living American director, Scorsese's deep love of the filmmaking craft finds its way into the frame most successfully. The difference between Scorsese and his contemporaries -- the single aspect of his films that elevates them above the level on which most other directors are working today -- lies in what's in the frame and what's out. \nWhen reminiscing about his youth, Scorsese is often quoted as saying "I just wanted to be an ordinary parish priest." For the sake of the film-going community, let us give thanks that he ultimately chose a different career path.
(10/12/06 3:01am)
Rummaging through my DVD collection to pick out the best films of the past decade, a few heavy-hitters become apparent. "Saving Private Ryan," "Magnolia," "Eyes Wide Shut" and "The Thin Red Line" come immediately to mind, but besting all comers is the Coen brothers' black comic masterpiece "Fargo." Supposedly based on actual events, "Fargo" is nothing if not surreal, yet it anchors itself among the mundane world of the Midwest, showing how murder and greed can corrupt even the most genial locales.\nThe plot is deceptively simple. Mild-mannered car salesman Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy), in dire financial straits, opts to have his wife kidnapped by hired thugs. They believe the ransom is $80,000, while Jerry tells his rich father-in-law Wade Gustafson (Harve Presnell), who will be paying the sum, that the total demanded is far more. Jerry plans to pocket the remainder after giving the thugs their share. Once the first of many bodies piles up, none of this matters.\nSteve Buscemi and Peter Stormare play Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud with a criminal-mindedness that rivals Travolta and Jackson in "Pulp Fiction." While not nearly as likable as that pair, the duo play perfect foils; Carl, a high-strung, loquacious opportunist, and Gaear a calm, silent murderer. Our hero, though, shows up half an hour into the film with morning sickness. Marge Gunderson, a local police chief investigating a few mysterious murders, exudes a totally sincere Minnesotan charm that led Frances McDormand to an Oscar for Best Actress.\nThere are several sequences in "Fargo" with an impact that ranks among the best of modern cinema. The kidnapping of Mrs. Lundegaard is dark comic gold, and Marge's meeting and subsequent revelation involving an old high school friend are positively queasy. Carl's demise via axe and wood chipper, as well as unanswered questions concerning the eventual fate of Wade's body and the Lundegaards' son Scotty, are gut-twisting. Carter Burwell's modestly epic orchestral score and the snowy cinematography by Roger Deakins complement most scenes unforgettably.\nDespite its dark subject matter, "Fargo" has a huge heart by way of Marge and her husband, Norm. During Marge's final exchange with Gaear, she postulates, "There's more to life than a little money, ya know. Doncha know that? And here ya are. And it's a beautiful day." None of the bad guys know that. Jerry, Carl and Gaear are metaphors for a world consumed by its own passive-aggressiveness, and Marge is the ever-elusive panacea. "Fargo" will stand the test of time as an iconic example of when black comedy, social commentary, a pitch-perfect casting job and screenplay all come together.
(09/28/06 4:00am)
It's hard to believe that four years have passed since the "Jackass" boys last graced movie screens with their outlandish stunts, but the boys are back, finally, with a new stable of even grosser, cruder and more death-defying gags to please their core audience. \nSince the boys' last appearance in theatres, Johnny Knoxville has fostered a modest movie career, Bam Margera made "Viva la Bam" his own and Steve-O and Chris Pontius lorded over the circus that was "WildBoyz." Neither of those shows held a candle to "Jackass," and their new movie "Jackass: Number Two" makes fans long for the glory days of the MTV series.\nA cautionary note should be afforded to those with a weak stomach because if you thought the first "Jackass" movie was nauseating at times, you're probably unprepared for the onslaught of vomit, blood, feces and horse semen in this second installment. From the first scene, involving Pontius' penis and a hungry snake, to the last skit, featuring Ehren McGhehey as a terrorist with a beard made of pubic hair, this movie must have gotten an R-rating by the skin of its teeth.\nEvery cast member takes his fair share of punishment during the course of the film, but the majority is doled out to Margera. Always the merry prankster in the first film, Bam ends up in tears not once but three times in "Number Two," and by the end credits, he pleads for there not to be a third installment. Also taking some serious punishment are Dave England and McGhehey, with the latter enduring the most intense mental gag this crew has ever pulled off. Steve-O is his usual masochistic self, squaring off with a fish hook, a beer bong, a leech and Preston Lacey's flatulence with equal abandon.\nAn obvious difference this time around is that all the primary cast members are rather well-off financially. Since 2002, most of the cast members have become millionaires, yet they're still willing to put their lives on the line for the good of the franchise. Knoxville, the richest of the bunch, comes out of the gate here as the most enthusiastic, making himself the gracious victim of an anti-personnel mine while England has an anxiety attack after watching a demonstration of the device. The only scene in the movie that falls flat is the grand finale, an homage to Hollywood musicals complete with the movie's most benign stunts.\nMost "Jackass" fans will know what to expect from "Number Two," but the intensity of much of the material here might still be surprising. If this is the last project the boys undertake together, it'll be an impressive send-off. If they choose to make a trilogy, somebody's bound to die during the filming.
(09/28/06 2:42am)
It's hard to believe that four years have passed since the "Jackass" boys last graced movie screens with their outlandish stunts, but the boys are back, finally, with a new stable of even grosser, cruder and more death-defying gags to please their core audience. \nSince the boys' last appearance in theatres, Johnny Knoxville has fostered a modest movie career, Bam Margera made "Viva la Bam" his own and Steve-O and Chris Pontius lorded over the circus that was "WildBoyz." Neither of those shows held a candle to "Jackass," and their new movie "Jackass: Number Two" makes fans long for the glory days of the MTV series.\nA cautionary note should be afforded to those with a weak stomach because if you thought the first "Jackass" movie was nauseating at times, you're probably unprepared for the onslaught of vomit, blood, feces and horse semen in this second installment. From the first scene, involving Pontius' penis and a hungry snake, to the last skit, featuring Ehren McGhehey as a terrorist with a beard made of pubic hair, this movie must have gotten an R-rating by the skin of its teeth.\nEvery cast member takes his fair share of punishment during the course of the film, but the majority is doled out to Margera. Always the merry prankster in the first film, Bam ends up in tears not once but three times in "Number Two," and by the end credits, he pleads for there not to be a third installment. Also taking some serious punishment are Dave England and McGhehey, with the latter enduring the most intense mental gag this crew has ever pulled off. Steve-O is his usual masochistic self, squaring off with a fish hook, a beer bong, a leech and Preston Lacey's flatulence with equal abandon.\nAn obvious difference this time around is that all the primary cast members are rather well-off financially. Since 2002, most of the cast members have become millionaires, yet they're still willing to put their lives on the line for the good of the franchise. Knoxville, the richest of the bunch, comes out of the gate here as the most enthusiastic, making himself the gracious victim of an anti-personnel mine while England has an anxiety attack after watching a demonstration of the device. The only scene in the movie that falls flat is the grand finale, an homage to Hollywood musicals complete with the movie's most benign stunts.\nMost "Jackass" fans will know what to expect from "Number Two," but the intensity of much of the material here might still be surprising. If this is the last project the boys undertake together, it'll be an impressive send-off. If they choose to make a trilogy, somebody's bound to die during the filming.
(09/21/06 4:00am)
John Mayer narrowly avoided being a teen pop idol in 2001 by virtue of the fact that he actually wrote and recorded a set of great songs on Room for Squares. He distanced himself even further from the teen fandom cesspool with his sophomore album, Heavier Things, on which he matured beyond his years to deliver a truly great record. His third album, Continuum, falls somewhere between the previous two, finding Mayer's wide-eyed soul and competent lyricism both at odds and in harmony with his nearing age 30.\nFor whatever reason, Mayer decides to get political on the opener "Waiting on the World to Change." It's a mostly apathetic protest song, but he gets a few good digs in at the crossfire media and the Bush administration. It feels more like an intro than a true album opener, and the album truly kicks in with track two, where Mayer wonders whether his current girl loves him or the thought of him. This may sound like simplistic rom-com soundtrack material, but the immaculate production by Mayer and Steve Jordan, along with Mayer's own songwriting chops, make it something more relevant.\n"Belief," a track clearly inspired by his John Mayer Trio pals (drummer Steve Jordan and bassist/journeyman Pino Palladino), coaxes the album into a faster tempo for the
(09/21/06 3:07am)
John Mayer narrowly avoided being a teen pop idol in 2001 by virtue of the fact that he actually wrote and recorded a set of great songs on Room for Squares. He distanced himself even further from the teen fandom cesspool with his sophomore album, Heavier Things, on which he matured beyond his years to deliver a truly great record. His third album, Continuum, falls somewhere between the previous two, finding Mayer's wide-eyed soul and competent lyricism both at odds and in harmony with his nearing age 30.\nFor whatever reason, Mayer decides to get political on the opener "Waiting on the World to Change." It's a mostly apathetic protest song, but he gets a few good digs in at the crossfire media and the Bush administration. It feels more like an intro than a true album opener, and the album truly kicks in with track two, where Mayer wonders whether his current girl loves him or the thought of him. This may sound like simplistic rom-com soundtrack material, but the immaculate production by Mayer and Steve Jordan, along with Mayer's own songwriting chops, make it something more relevant.\n"Belief," a track clearly inspired by his John Mayer Trio pals (drummer Steve Jordan and bassist/journeyman Pino Palladino), coaxes the album into a faster tempo for the
(09/14/06 4:00am)
It's no simple task to evaluate tragedy from a critical perspective. It's even harder for me to admit that two of my favorite films of 2006 both deal with the events of September 11th, 2001. One of them (Oliver Stone's "World Trade Center") comes straight from the heart, while the other goes straight for the gut. Just as Stone's film strives for uplift amidst inconceivable circumstances, Paul Greengrass' United 93 achieves a documentary-like realism combined with an unflinching look at the madness of suicidal extremism.\nGreengrass and his cinematographer Barry Ackroyd chose to film "United 93" in an erratic, handheld style to heighten the sense of realism, and it's an extremely effective device. The decision was also made not to focus on any one or two particular characters as heroes, thus saving the film from any tired Hollywood action cliches. What we get is a dizzyingly candid look into the demise of Flight 93 and the utter confusion of the FAA and military on the ground. Once Flight 93 is in the air, the film unfolds in real time, and the drama is delivered simply by knowing that everyone on that plane has less than an hour left to live.\nAs the final moments approach, Greengrass delivers some of the best scenes on film this year. Once the passengers and flight attendants realize that New York City has been hit, they know what has to be done. Their attack on the hijackers is presented not as a glamorized takeover attempt but as a chaotic jumble of guttural screams, broken limbs, and spraying blood. It's almost too much to watch, yet the passengers' resolve to save their own lives is inspiration enough to render it worth watching.\nHonoring Flight 93's victims and their loved ones is the primary focus of the extras on this single disc, and the many interviews with family members add another level of emotion to the film itself. There is also an incredible amount of biography text on every one of the passengers and crew. Finally, Greengrass' full-length commentary track highlights the difficulty in bringing this story to the screen amidst constant criticism of it being "too soon" after 9/11 to do so.\nIt wasn't "too soon," however, as both United 93 and World Trade Center have proven. With all the books, television specials, and various other forms of media produced about 9/11 in the last five years, it's curious to me why only feature films based on the event seem to face such backlash against their production. 9/11 changed the world for the worse in so very many ways, and the vital impact of Greengrass' film is that it strips away all politics, patriotism, and pretense in order to present these events as they happened, in the context of a far more innocent world.
(09/14/06 3:11am)
It's no simple task to evaluate tragedy from a critical perspective. It's even harder for me to admit that two of my favorite films of 2006 both deal with the events of September 11th, 2001. One of them (Oliver Stone's "World Trade Center") comes straight from the heart, while the other goes straight for the gut. Just as Stone's film strives for uplift amidst inconceivable circumstances, Paul Greengrass' United 93 achieves a documentary-like realism combined with an unflinching look at the madness of suicidal extremism.\nGreengrass and his cinematographer Barry Ackroyd chose to film "United 93" in an erratic, handheld style to heighten the sense of realism, and it's an extremely effective device. The decision was also made not to focus on any one or two particular characters as heroes, thus saving the film from any tired Hollywood action cliches. What we get is a dizzyingly candid look into the demise of Flight 93 and the utter confusion of the FAA and military on the ground. Once Flight 93 is in the air, the film unfolds in real time, and the drama is delivered simply by knowing that everyone on that plane has less than an hour left to live.\nAs the final moments approach, Greengrass delivers some of the best scenes on film this year. Once the passengers and flight attendants realize that New York City has been hit, they know what has to be done. Their attack on the hijackers is presented not as a glamorized takeover attempt but as a chaotic jumble of guttural screams, broken limbs, and spraying blood. It's almost too much to watch, yet the passengers' resolve to save their own lives is inspiration enough to render it worth watching.\nHonoring Flight 93's victims and their loved ones is the primary focus of the extras on this single disc, and the many interviews with family members add another level of emotion to the film itself. There is also an incredible amount of biography text on every one of the passengers and crew. Finally, Greengrass' full-length commentary track highlights the difficulty in bringing this story to the screen amidst constant criticism of it being "too soon" after 9/11 to do so.\nIt wasn't "too soon," however, as both United 93 and World Trade Center have proven. With all the books, television specials, and various other forms of media produced about 9/11 in the last five years, it's curious to me why only feature films based on the event seem to face such backlash against their production. 9/11 changed the world for the worse in so very many ways, and the vital impact of Greengrass' film is that it strips away all politics, patriotism, and pretense in order to present these events as they happened, in the context of a far more innocent world.
(09/07/06 4:00am)
The funniest and most bizarre show on television got even funnier and more bizarre in its third and final season, going out with a bang and not a whimper. Enough fuss has been made about Fox's decision to cancel Arrested Development midstream, but what more can be expected from the same roundtable that keeps the Fox News Channel going 24/7? The best that can be done is to celebrate the show for what it was, which was much, much more than any comedy currently on air.\nAside from a steady staff of amazing writers, the heart of the show (as with all the greats) is its cast of memorable, if not always likeable, characters. Jeffrey Tambor and Jessica Walter play the patriarch and matriarch of the Bluth family with witty abandon, while the deadpan Will Arnett and gleefully pathetic Tony Hale bake sons Gob and Buster to golden-brown perfection. Portia de Rossi and David Cross always impress as Lindsay and Dr. Tobias Funke, and Jason Bateman deserves special note as Michael, the family's constantly bedraggled moral center.\nEpisode after episode, the writers and cast of Arrested Development continued to outdo themselves with labyrinthine plots, rapid-fire dialogue exchanges, and some of the best physical comedy since the silent era. If Season One kept things on a relatively even keel, and Season Two jolted everything way off-kilter, then Season Three is a balls-out spectacle of ridiculousness, where necrophiliac nurses, killer hair plugs, and Scott Baio all coexist in the same twisted O.C. (but don't call it that).\nExtras gracing this two-disc set include a cache of often-amusing deleted and extended scenes, selected episode commentary tracks with creator Mitchell Hurwitz and the cast, and an appropriately bittersweet look at the last day of location photography for the series. Also featured is another in the series of hilarious Arrested Development blooper reels, which are wasted on most comedy series but sparkle with a hint of mad genius in the hands of a cast and writers this talented and tuned-in to one another.\n285 minutes is far less time than Arrested Development deserved to bring a sense of closure to its legion of diehard fans, but that's all Fox allowed it. Instead, we've been blessed with three more years of The Simpsons and another shitty season of Family Guy to choke down. Negativity and resentment will get us nowhere, however, and at least we have this final, brilliant season of the Bluth family's madcap, acid-tongued exploits to remember them by.
(09/07/06 2:21am)
The funniest and most bizarre show on television got even funnier and more bizarre in its third and final season, going out with a bang and not a whimper. Enough fuss has been made about Fox's decision to cancel Arrested Development midstream, but what more can be expected from the same roundtable that keeps the Fox News Channel going 24/7? The best that can be done is to celebrate the show for what it was, which was much, much more than any comedy currently on air.\nAside from a steady staff of amazing writers, the heart of the show (as with all the greats) is its cast of memorable, if not always likeable, characters. Jeffrey Tambor and Jessica Walter play the patriarch and matriarch of the Bluth family with witty abandon, while the deadpan Will Arnett and gleefully pathetic Tony Hale bake sons Gob and Buster to golden-brown perfection. Portia de Rossi and David Cross always impress as Lindsay and Dr. Tobias Funke, and Jason Bateman deserves special note as Michael, the family's constantly bedraggled moral center.\nEpisode after episode, the writers and cast of Arrested Development continued to outdo themselves with labyrinthine plots, rapid-fire dialogue exchanges, and some of the best physical comedy since the silent era. If Season One kept things on a relatively even keel, and Season Two jolted everything way off-kilter, then Season Three is a balls-out spectacle of ridiculousness, where necrophiliac nurses, killer hair plugs, and Scott Baio all coexist in the same twisted O.C. (but don't call it that).\nExtras gracing this two-disc set include a cache of often-amusing deleted and extended scenes, selected episode commentary tracks with creator Mitchell Hurwitz and the cast, and an appropriately bittersweet look at the last day of location photography for the series. Also featured is another in the series of hilarious Arrested Development blooper reels, which are wasted on most comedy series but sparkle with a hint of mad genius in the hands of a cast and writers this talented and tuned-in to one another.\n285 minutes is far less time than Arrested Development deserved to bring a sense of closure to its legion of diehard fans, but that's all Fox allowed it. Instead, we've been blessed with three more years of The Simpsons and another shitty season of Family Guy to choke down. Negativity and resentment will get us nowhere, however, and at least we have this final, brilliant season of the Bluth family's madcap, acid-tongued exploits to remember them by.
(08/31/06 4:00am)
The only way to fairly critique Paris Hilton's debut album is to assume that there is no such person as Paris Hilton. Paris had about as much to do with the writing, recording, and production of her debut LP as Brian Jones had to do with the writing, recording, and production of the Stones' "Let it Bleed," which is not too damn much. She's there. You can hear (a reasonably vocoded facsimile of) her voice on each track, but her presence is about as heavily sensed as that faint fecal stench on a freshly cleaned toilet. No, Paris is not to blame for the relative disaster that is "Paris." Her songwriters, producers, and record label are.\nParis' commitment level to this project should be evident immediately by the album's cover. Wearing a cocktail dress and sporting that same bored, entitled look in her eyes that was on display during the entire Rick Salomon sex tape, her gaze reflects her singing. Most listeners will sense from track one onward that Hilton spent a grand total of three hours in the studio, resolving to let the producers clean up her mess for the final mix.\nThe producers do their best, but alongside Hilton's record label, they're just acting as enablers. Scott Storch and Rob Cavallo, normally reliable behind the boards, can only scribble a set of competent backbeats and hope Paris' voice doesn't crack. Though I suppose the synthesizers could correct that, too. Lyrically, "Paris" is negligible to the point of words being a non-issue. It's no surprise, then, that Paris is actually credited in co-writing many of the wannas and gonnas herein.\nTracks of special note include "Nothing in This World" and the aptly titled "Screwed," both of which are musically enjoyable enough to forgive. On the other end of the spectrum, a hideous cover of Rod Stewart's "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" comes off as a snotty rhetorical question to affirm Hilton's own faux-celebrity.\nMuch like Lindsay Lohan's 2004 and 2005 albums, and perhaps more like William Hung's "Inspiration," "Paris" is pure empty product. The beats are sometimes infectious and the hooks can be catchy, but as with Paris herself, there doesn't seem to be anything below the surface. After 11 tracks of breathy, synthesized warbling from Miss Hilton, we can only hope that her dreams of success in the music business will fade away quickly.
(08/31/06 2:43am)
The only way to fairly critique Paris Hilton's debut album is to assume that there is no such person as Paris Hilton. Paris had about as much to do with the writing, recording, and production of her debut LP as Brian Jones had to do with the writing, recording, and production of the Stones' "Let it Bleed," which is not too damn much. She's there. You can hear (a reasonably vocoded facsimile of) her voice on each track, but her presence is about as heavily sensed as that faint fecal stench on a freshly cleaned toilet. No, Paris is not to blame for the relative disaster that is "Paris." Her songwriters, producers, and record label are.\nParis' commitment level to this project should be evident immediately by the album's cover. Wearing a cocktail dress and sporting that same bored, entitled look in her eyes that was on display during the entire Rick Salomon sex tape, her gaze reflects her singing. Most listeners will sense from track one onward that Hilton spent a grand total of three hours in the studio, resolving to let the producers clean up her mess for the final mix.\nThe producers do their best, but alongside Hilton's record label, they're just acting as enablers. Scott Storch and Rob Cavallo, normally reliable behind the boards, can only scribble a set of competent backbeats and hope Paris' voice doesn't crack. Though I suppose the synthesizers could correct that, too. Lyrically, "Paris" is negligible to the point of words being a non-issue. It's no surprise, then, that Paris is actually credited in co-writing many of the wannas and gonnas herein.\nTracks of special note include "Nothing in This World" and the aptly titled "Screwed," both of which are musically enjoyable enough to forgive. On the other end of the spectrum, a hideous cover of Rod Stewart's "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" comes off as a snotty rhetorical question to affirm Hilton's own faux-celebrity.\nMuch like Lindsay Lohan's 2004 and 2005 albums, and perhaps more like William Hung's "Inspiration," "Paris" is pure empty product. The beats are sometimes infectious and the hooks can be catchy, but as with Paris herself, there doesn't seem to be anything below the surface. After 11 tracks of breathy, synthesized warbling from Miss Hilton, we can only hope that her dreams of success in the music business will fade away quickly.
(08/24/06 4:00am)
When the Internet buzz over "Snakes on a Plane" started this past spring, most everyone assumed the film would either be so totally over-the-top it would rival "Bad Boys II" for pure popcorn ridiculousness, or be just another formula horror flick that somehow managed to grab a big-name actor to generate box-office revenue. David R. Ellis' much-hyped "Snakes" actually manages to be a little bit of both, with a healthy dose of "Scream"-style self-deprecation thrown in for good measure. Think Jules Winnfield meets "Anaconda" at 40,000 feet.\n As for the particulars, Samuel L. Jackson is an FBI agent in charge of escorting a critical witness (Nathan Phillips) on a flight from Hawaii to Los Angeles to offer his testimony in court. Those he plans to testify against are none too happy about it, and decide to release several hundred ill-tempered snakes on- you know it - the plane. The snakes are released, passengers are attacked and Jackson goes into hero mode. From there on, "Snakes" plays on two of humankind's greatest post-9/11 fears: commercial air travel and deadly serpents\n The fact is that without the presence of Jackson in the lead role, this movie wouldn't work, nor would the massive hype have surrounded it in the first place. Sans Sam, we'd have just another Sci-Fi Channel original movie of the month to grapple with. Jackson, as Neville Flynn, bleeds the same intensity that made some of his most memorable characters (Zeus Carver, Elijah Prince, Mr. SeZor Love Daddy) memorable, and you can tell he's having a damn good time starring in a movie with no critical expectations.\nIt's also thankful that, once the buzz began to overtake this movie, Ellis and Jackson decided to reshoot for an R-rating, since it's difficult to imagine "Snakes" at PG-13. It would be like watching "Friday the 13th Part V" on TNT; all machete swinging and no gore or bare breasts in sight. At least now we have snakes biting every conceivable body part and couples eagerly joining the mile-high club.\nSpeaking of the snakes themselves, the special effects don't look nearly as bad as one might assume, though Industrial Light & Magic they are not. Some of the snakes look more realistic than others, and a few look as cartoonish as the shoddiest work Roger Corman ever puked up. Fortunately, the limitations of a grainy theater screen give most of this a pass, but DVD should be far less kind.\n In many ways, "Snakes on a Plane" is the perfect cult movie that people might still be watching years from now. In other ways, it's the perfect straight-to-video cable original that could end up on shelves beside such classics as "Boa vs. Python," "Mansquito" and "Chupacabra: Dark Seas." The difference, heightened production values aside, is Sam Jackson, and while his claim at this year's MTV Movie Awards that "Snakes" will win Best Movie in 2007 are doubtful, he's a virtual lock for Best Male Performance.