Louisville's Finest
My Morning Jacket’s latest effort, Evil Urges, is the sound of a band becoming comfortable with fame and praise, and at the same time not letting it get to their collective heads.
382 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
My Morning Jacket’s latest effort, Evil Urges, is the sound of a band becoming comfortable with fame and praise, and at the same time not letting it get to their collective heads.
Weezer’s sixth studio effort and third self-titled release is half a great album and half a mediocre one. The first four tracks and the final track are among the best the band has ever recorded, but it’s unfortunate that tracks five through nine feel like Rivers Cuomo and company got a little lazy (and a whole lotta whimsical) behind the sound boards. Supposedly culled from "hundreds" of songs written by the band over the past three years, The Red Album feels like a mash-up between the mope-pop genius of 1996’s Pinkerton and the anxiety-addled quirks of 2005’s underwhelming Make Believe.
It's been 40 years since George A. Romero unleashed "Night of the Living Dead" on a far too unsuspecting public, and it's ownly ballooned in cult stature since, right along with 1978's arguably superior critique of consumer culture, "Dawn of the Dead." 1985's dark Cold War parable "Day of the Dead" and 2005's riff on class wars, "Land of the Dead," followed, and not once did Romero flinch or show noticeable weakness. Recognized as a master by those he inspired, Romero continues his sporadic reign with "Diary of the Dead," one of 2007's best horror films.\n"Diary" follows a group of student filmmakers over the course of several days as they document themselves during the emerging zombie crisis. Romero's political/social target here is our national/global obsession with having every last moment of our lives on film via YouTube. It's a fertile target, and Romero's satire doesn't disappoint. Less gory and in-your-face than "Land," "Diary" aims less for the jugular and more for the cerebrum. What at first seems like a silly romp with a ragtag group of kids turns out to be a harrowing escape tale documented in real time, and scenarios like the heroine's reunion with her parents and the dispirited ending are unforgiving and bravely shot.\nOn the extras front, this single-disc edition boasts a feature commentary from Romero playing his usual witty self, and a full-length documentary on the creation of the film that's worthy of praise. Both of these features warrant a purchase from anyone even remotely a fan of Romero's previous zombie ventures. Finally and amusingly, a series of five short zombie films culled from Romero's MySpace-hosted contest for amateur horror filmmakers are featured; some clearly better than others. While "Diary" may one day get the executive DVD treatment afforded "Night," "Dawn" and "Day," the features here are nothing to scoff at.\nRomero's latest film may not be as earth-shattering as "Night" or "Dawn," but it proves the director once again to be operating on another, higher level of horror filmmaking, both visceral and subversively political.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>When the creative team behind what is arguably the best show on television (“Lost”) announced last summer they were releasing a monster movie,, I was sold sight unseen. The viral marketing campaign that followed their announcement, which dragged on far too long and became far too cryptic for its own good, dampened my spirits a bit, but the movie itself ended up delivering on so many levels that the marketing had to be forgiven.This is the two-sided coin that is “Cloverfield,” now on DVD and far less likely to cause motion sickness than it did on the big screen. Marketing gimmicks have always plagued the “Lost” team by trying to speak for their products instead of the products speaking for themselves. “Lost”’s viral gimmicks and continual scheduling tweaks, while brilliant in their own sort of way, have always done nothing but distract from the meat of the show itself. “Cloverfield”’s viral campaign promised an epic monster clash with deeply-rooted mythology, instead of the intimate, character-driven clusterfuck that audiences ended up seeing. J.J. Abrams and his director Matt Reeves, along with a solid cast of newcomers, blended the first-person hand-held style of “The Blair Witch Project” with the disastrous goings-on of a Roland Emmerich movie, and it’s truly a love-it-or-hate-it affair. A monster, whose existence and motives are never explained, and who is rarely seen in full view, has a beef with New York City and its denizens, and our yuppie protagonists are there to film it all from street-level. It’s a simple concept, and one that’s pulled off deftly by all involved.The DVD release is peppered with enough extras to sate fans of the film, and also to explicate some of the information left out of the film, such as the monster’s possible origins and what happened after the camera stopped rolling. A feature commentary track with director Reeves is enlightening and occasionally funny, and featurettes covering production and visual effects are above average. Several deleted scenes are on display, mostly adding nothing to the film itself, and a couple of alternate endings are tacked on for good measure.The best advice I can give is to ignore the hype, grab some Dramamine, and let one of Hollywood’s most talented production teams show you how a genre can be reinvented with style.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>If you’re a video game studio, how do you follow up one of the best video games ever made in “GTA: San Andreas”? If you’re Rockstar, you follow it up with the best video game ever made. I know that ever since the gaming media got their hands on “Grand Theft Auto IV” a couple of weeks ago the superlatives have been flying faster and harder than a hail of bullets, but I can’t in good conscience not join the chorus after having logged over 24 hours of play having only had the game in my hands for five days.What makes “GTA IV” so far beyond any game currently on the market is the sheer level of realism and immersion to be found in Rockstar’s current incarnation of Liberty City. Based heavily on New York City and its outer boroughs, Liberty City is an organic, lived-in metropolis that’s free of load screens and ready to be made your own. You play as Niko Bellic, an Eastern European immgrant and gun-for-hire who comes to America striving for success and searching for “that special someone.” Niko is by far the most multi-dimensional video game anti-hero ever seen, and the game’s storyline is feature-film quality and will have players emotionally involved from the beginning.As always, Rockstar has loaded the game with a wealth of in-car radio stations ranging in genre from ambient electronica to reggae dub, and featuring artists as diverse as The Rapture and Fela Kuti. And if talk-radio is your bag, there are several talk stations that showcase the series’ trademark humor and wit. As for the heart of “Grand Theft Auto IV,” the vehicles are wonders of gaming physics, proving to be as destructible or deadly as you want them to be-and pedestrians (now equipped with ragdoll physics) best beware.As if all this weren’t enough to keep players’ heads spinning for months, Rockstar has added a fully functional online multiplayer with a dozen different modes and no noticeable lag times. You and 15 of your closest friends can tear Liberty City a new one in free mode, because some spectacular vehicular mayhem in the two race modes, or play as teams of cops and crooks in the aptly named Cops ‘N Crooks mode. It’s yet another added layer of immersion into an already impossibly dense game.“GTA IV” is a game worthy of a book’s merit of write-up, and in this limited space I have to reiterate that what Rockstar has created here is nothing short of monumental, and will be a game-changing moment for seventh-generation consoles, showcasing not just what a game should be but what a game can be when pushed to its limits. Like Niko’s hot-headed pal Brucie refers to him while on a bullshark testosterone-fueled rampage, “GTA IV” is genetically different.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>A wildly popular comedy with no Judd Apatow involvement? Really? “Juno” began its theatrical life sort of like 2006’s “Little Miss Sunshine” – blissfully under the radar and no doubt better off had it remained there. Alas, like “Sunshine,” “Juno” picked up a head of steam off its precocious script and honest performances, riding said steam all the way to a $200 million box office take and a congenial Best Picture nomination. Don’t get me wrong, “Juno” is an all right movie, but it’s not that good.The story is familiar to all by now. Our tragically hip 16-year-old heroine Juno MacGuff (an excellent Ellen Page) gets knocked up by a school chum (a deadpan Michael Cera) and must face the realities and decisions of young motherhood. To give up the baby, to abort the baby or to keep it? Director Jason Reitman’s supporting cast mostly sticks their landings, especially J.K. Simmons as Juno’s dad and Jason Bateman as the adoptive father of her baby. The movie’s weak link lies squarely in Diablo Cody’s Oscar-winning screenplay. Though at times effervescently hilarious, what Cody seems to be passing off as “realistic teenage dialogue” often sounds and feels overwritten and overwrought, leading one to believe that we’re hearing how the 29-year-old Diablo Cody would like to assume teens conversed rather than how they actually do.Even casual fans of the film would be wise to avoid the single-disc edition in favor of the double-disc Special Edition, primarily due to Reitman and scribe Cody’s feature commentary covering all the bases and divulging more juicy tidbits than one should ever want to know. Every other conceivable supplement base is covered, including a surreal gag reel, featurettes on direction, production, writing and some deleted scenes wisely excised from the finished product. Perhaps the most interesting supplement, though, is Ellen Page’s totally committed screen test, proving for anyone still unaware that there’s some serious talent brewing inside the spunky little Nova Scotian.There’s also a second disc featuring a rippable digital copy for portable media players; a move that could be construed as a little too hip for its own good, sort of like Cody’s dialogue.
Next month, a piece of art is predicted to sell for $35 million. It’s not a Warhol of Marilyn Monroe or an elongated Modigliani nude – but it’s a nude nonetheless. It’s a life-size portrait of a 280-pound civil servant.\nThe painter, Lucian Freud, chose his robust subject, Sue Tilley, most likely because of his “predilection towards people of unusual or strange proportions,” according to the UK Times. \nThe subject matter of the projected highest-selling artwork ever indicates a few things about our society. Despite our obsession with being thin, beautiful and superficial, we are intrigued by the sincerity of someone such as Tilley.\nPerhaps one of the most famous painters who glorified hearty women is Peter Paul Rubens. Back in his day – the early 17th century – big women were praised because heft indicated wealth. If you were skinny, you were probably just malnourished and poor.\nAt some point in history, society started believing that being a bit chubby was gluttonous. Eighteenth-century painter William Hogarth still used larger individuals as a sign of high social status, but he instead capitalized on their laziness and excess. \nThen again, even in the ’60s, Marilyn Monroe’s voluptuous body was idealized. \nBut Monroe was not quite as stout as Tilley, whom Freud painted in 1995, a time when thin ruled. Freud has also painted the likes of supermodel Kate Moss, but it was “Big Sue” he was enamored with portraying. \nWhile painting Tilley, he said he was “very aware of all kinds of spectacular things to do with her size, like amazing craters and things one’s never seen before.” \nThere’s something very honest about that portrait of a naked Tilley reclining on a sofa. She appears natural and hardly self-conscious. \nTilley possesses a rare quality. In the United States, it seems everyone is battling weight troubles. They’re either too caught up with dieting and starving or they eat so much that it has made them unhealthy. \nIt’s difficult to find someone in between. And of course, Tilley could have serious weight issues like everyone else. According to the Times article, she thinks Freud chose to portray her because of her “ordinariness.” \nBut what Tilley may not realize – and what Freud and the future owner of the painting might already know – is that her ordinariness is what makes her unique. \nFreud isn’t trying to make her particularly beautiful like Rubens would have done, or grotesque like Hogwarth would have tried to do. It’s just an accurate physical depiction of a body type.\nI certainly don’t think that our society will ever return to a Rubenesque glorification of voluptuous women – we are far too superficial for that. But what I do believe is that we might be close to reaching a maturity and sensitivity toward the human body. \nI’ve personally never lived in a time where anything but skinny women were commercially attractive, but I’d love to someday feel that the world is not looking at me and my jelly rolls at the beach.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>The first time I saw “Sweeney Todd,” Tim Burton’s revamping of Stephen Sondheim’s 1979 Broadway play, I wasn’t sure what to think. These aren’t trained singers, and several passages in the film come out of nowhere, then linger awkwardly. The small screen treats “Sweeney” more kindly, for me anyway, because it whittles down Burton’s vision from boisterous Grand Guignol spectacle to measured genre experimentation.Burton and Johnny Depp’s nearly two-decade history together has brought us two outright masterworks (“Ed Wood,” “Edward Scissorhands”), two eye-catching misfires (“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” “The Corpse Bride”) and one excellent but misunderstood horror exercise (“Sleepy Hollow”). “Sweeney Todd” ranks near the top half of Burton/Depp collaborations for two reasons: Dante Ferretti’s Oscar-winning production design and Johnny Depp’s complete commitment to the project. Unlike many characters in musicals, Depp rises above overloud caricature and makes us feel for his demon barber, even as he slits throats left and right. Alan Rickman and Sacha Baron Cohen are standouts on the supporting front, but Helena Bonham Carter’s screeching performance falls mostly flat.The two-disc edition of “Sweeney Todd” has enough features to satisfy fans of Burton’s movie and Sondheim’s original musical alike. Disc One offers a look at the professional dynamic between Burton and his oft-used actors, Depp and Bonham Carter, while Disc Two covers everything from the film’s art direction to the composition of Sondheim’s original songs. Perhaps the most interesting feature, though, is “Sweeney Todd Is Alive: The Real History of the Demon Barber,” in which the 160-year history of the character (first introduced in an 1846 collection of short stories) is explored. Anyone with more than a passing interest in the painstaking, and so rarely successful, process of translating Broadway to the big screen should spring for the double-disc over the single.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>As the latest in what is sure to be a long line of bands and artists self-releasing their music online in the coming years, Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails is soberly realistic about where the record industry is heading. Adopting Radiohead’s “screw you” attitude toward the major labels might be less comfortable for some lesser musical forces, but Reznor seems right at home not playing by the rules. He describes his latest collection of work, a sprawling four-part instrumental collection titled Ghosts, as “music for daydreams,” but don’t call it Muzak.Spread over 36 tracks. titled only by numbers, and nearly two hours of running time, the album presents a calculated mix of recognizable Nine Inch Nails styles (the creeping piano ballad, the industrial synth stomper, the soft/loud/contemplative/explosive longer piece, etc.) and more experimental noodlings, all of which are engaging and none of which are throwaways. Standout tracks such as “3 Ghosts I” and “28 Ghosts IV” are just begging to be transformed into vocalized album tracks on Reznor’s next traditional LP. Curious interludes such as “15 Ghosts II” and “25 Ghosts III” might feel like filler on a first listen, but reveal sonic details (kudos to Reznor for offering the download at 320 kbps) that warrant them being an integral part of the whole.Ghosts is available in multiple formats from NIN’s official Web site. There’s the free nine-track download of “Ghosts I” only, the $5 full download of all four parts along with a fully-produced PDF companion booklet (my recommended pick), a $10 two-CD set by mail (to arrive early next month) and a $75 deluxe package with the whole album on a Blu-Ray disc with other fancy extras. For longtime NIN fans or just those who get a rise out of subverting the major labels and procuring some great music at the same time, Ghosts is a carefully composed and dreamy must-listen.
Once most figures have reached a certain level of prominence and prestige, it often seems that they stop trying to do their job. Talk show host Larry King, for example, called Ringo Starr “George” when he interviewed the remaining Beatles members this summer. \nKing somehow still maintains his ego, however. During a Democratic debate aired on CNN last summer, he was caught on camera asking why Anderson Cooper received more air time for his panel than he did. \nOnce you make it to the top, it can often be hard to keep trying to do better. But judging from his lecture this past Sunday at the IU Auditorium, this was certainly not the case with Charlie Rose.\nHe has hosted his self-titled PBS program since 1979, and has interviewed everyone from Shaquille O’Neal to Sean Penn to Saudi Prince and Foreign Minister Saud al-Faisal. During his lecture on Sunday, Rose said journalist Bob Woodward once told him that he thinks Rose truly picks his brain when interviewing him.\nUnlike Woodward, who also spoke at the IU Auditorium this school year, Rose had a greater sense of connecting the past with the future. He also spoke with more fervor on topics as widespread as the individuals he interviews — from the art of Frank Gehry to the intricacies of the current U.S. presidential election. While Woodward’s speech was concise and organized, akin to a clean-cut newspaper article, it would probably not differ from any other lecture he would have given in 2007.\nRose, on the other hand, cited newspaper stories he had read within days, as well as a conversation he had earlier with an IU dean. \nRose was also the perfect individual to conclude IU’s ArtsWeek.\nWhat really impressed me was his ability to show how art reflects a nation’s given state, and he also stressed the importance of art in politics and the media. The world of arts and politics are often too isolated, and I am too often encountered with individuals on campus who are only interested in one or the other. \nEither political buffs believe that nothing is as important as our nation’s government, or art enthusiasts believe they can provide nothing to affairs of the state. \nIt is people like Rose who are capable of providing a cohesive understanding of arts and politics in his talk show and in his lectures. This can only further educate our masses. Rose did not boast of his high intellect on various topics, but he cited the people and sources he obtained his knowledge from gladly. \nIf you missed out on Rose’s lecture this past Sunday, his show has a wonderful way of surprising you in the wee hours of the morning. He was even referenced on the former teenage dramedy “The OC”, when Seth Cohen suggested what was perceived as a cradle-robbing affair might be something more innocuous: “Maybe they’re not having sex. Maybe they just go to spoon and watch Charlie Rose.”
I love reading obituaries. Not because I consider myself particularly morbid or fascinated with death, but because they are usually some of the most intriguing pieces of literature you can encounter. Obituaries are like condensed biographies. You get all the noteworthy matters of someone’s life and decide whether or not his or her biography, if they have one, is actually worth reading about. Earlier this month, Dorothy Podber, a 75-year-old former art-scene wild child, passed away. Her name might not mean much to us, but she contributed to one of Andy Warhol’s works of art that brought in a record-breaking price at auction.\nIn her New York Times obituary, she was noted as being most-well known for shooting a pistol through a few of Andy Warhol Marilyn Monroe’s portraits. She just asked Warhol “if she could shoot a stack” of them. The pop artist consented because he assumed she was referring to shooting photographs, not bullets. He later requested that she not return to his studio because she was “too scary.”\nOne of the wounded paintings, “Shot Red Marilyn” sold for $4 million in 1989. In May of 2007, Warhol’s painting “Green Car Crash (Green Burning Car 1)” sold for $71.7 million. The most expensive painting ever sold is Jackson Pollock’s “No.5, 1948,” sold for $140 million. When I read an obituary like Dorothy Podber’s, it makes me realize I want to have some impact on this world by the time I die. Reading obituaries can help one understand what they want to be remembered for. Perhaps even more importantly, it determines how one will be remembered. \nDo you want your obituary to boast your career, your family or your good deeds? Perhaps you want to have it all. Do you want to be remembered in your city, state, nation or throughout the entire world? \nPerhaps Dorothy Podber was a nobody who is only well-known for something she did on a bad acid trip. But she was somehow commemorated for her off-beat personality and unorthodox composure. In a 2007 picture of her, she is seated on a Native-American style sofa chair, decked in a cheetah print jacket, black pants and tube top. Not to mention she topped her ensemble off with a creme hat wrapped with a purple ribbon. Now that was a classy broad. \nAs insignificant a figure as Podber might have been, she marched to the beat of her own drum and left an impression on people. \nGranted, fascist dictators and infamous murderers get to be in the Times’ obituaries, as well. So let’s hope that you too would like to be remembered for having a positive impact on people.\nIf you ever find yourself lost in your hopes for the future, think of what you would want your obituary to say. Sure, you can always plan your funeral in advance and request to have your tombstone personally engraved beforehand. \nBut the obituarists of the world won’t sugarcoat your existence. Therefore, I strongly suggest you try to make something out of it while you can.
The difference between the female and male mind is not as difficult to figure out as everyone makes it out to be. The answer does not lie in “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus” or in any “Sex and the City” rerun. \nThe answer is this: Disney vs. Porn. \nMy whole adult life, I’ve been fairly accurate in defining individuals based on their tastes. It’s not a matter of prejudice, but of understanding. Little girls grow up watching Disney cartoons where princesses find their Prince Charming and live happily ever after. When little girls grow up, their Disney dreams evolve into romantic comedies, McDreamies and sappy love songs. And once little boys hit puberty, they discover the magical world of porn. \nBoth the Disney and porn franchises create false fantasies that will never come true. While the business of Disney is struggling, the porno industry, specifically in terms of the Internet, is only rising. This doesn’t mean women should concede to men’s porno dreams, or that men should look to become Prince Charming. The sooner everyone can acknowledge their fantasies are far from reality, the sooner the sexes might actually reach an understanding. It’s all about a sense of compromise between the two – a hope to establish a mutually beneficial relationship. \nBut that’s the hard part. Obviously, the resolution does not lay in Disney porn, or Jenna Jameson starring as the next Disney princess. \nNoted journalist and cultural critic Ellen Willis best explained this potential compromise when she described the difference between sex for men and women. After all, she was first to coin the term “pro-sex feminism,” two concepts that were previously contradictory. Willis stated there are two kinds of sex: classical and baroque. Classical is romantic, emotional and focused on a particular person. Baroque is playful, anonymous and “focused on sensation for sensation’s sake.” Classical is stereotypically feminine while Baroque is stereotypically male. She concluded that “The classical mentality taken to an extreme is sentimental and finally puritanical; the baroque mentality taken to an extreme is pornographic and finally obscene. Ideally, a sexual relation ought to create a satisfying tension between the two modes (a baroque idea, particularly if the tension is ironic) or else blend them so well that the distinction disappears (a classical aspiration).” \nI suppose there are a few lucky ones out there who get to live out their dreams of real-life fairy tales and erotica. Hugh Hefner’s got it pretty good, and millions of women pine for Prince Harry and Prince William. But idealistic souls too often face harsh disappointment. They can choose to keep up the optimism, settle for pessimism, or recognize reality. The latter always seems to be the hardest, even though it is the most efficient.
In the race of characters to populate your nightmares, Daniel Day-Lewis' Daniel Plainview surges past Anton Chigurh of "There Will Be Blood" by a nose. Equipped with a shrewd business sense, unending drive and an intense dislike for most of the human race, Plainview is at once sympathetic, perplexing and terrifying. Few actors could pull off such a towering performance. In a film concerned mainly with delineating the rise and fall of the American dream, Day-Lewis' Plainview embodies all that was admirable and terrible in an America bending toward modern industry in the early 20th century.\nEnough talk of Day-Lewis -- he'll get his Oscar. The mastermind behind this gloriously wacked-out film is Paul Thomas Anderson, a man known for coaxing memorable performances out of the great (Day-Lewis), the good (Tom Cruise in "Magnolia") and the mediocre (Adam Sandler in "Punch Drunk Love"). Anderson's cinematic sensibilities perfectly complement this tale of an oilman locking horns with a man of God and his cache of behind-the-scenes collaborators strives to complement its director's talents.\nCinematographer Robert Elswit evokes the spirit of Néstor Almendros and Haskell Wexler's work in Terrence Malick's "Days of Heaven," adding touches of the grimy and mechanical to an otherwise picaresque landscape. Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood's propulsive, wrenching score crawls up your spine and can't be shaken off. Neither can the societal commentary peppered throughout Anderson's screenplay, based loosely on Upton Sinclair's novel "Oil!"\nPaul Dano's Eli Sunday, the Evangelical minister of a small and oil-rich California settlement, plays both foil and victim to Plainview's inherently atheistic plans for domination of the oil business, and three separate scenes between the men define the story. By the time the seismic final confrontation arrives, both men are broken in their own way, and one asserts his dominance over the other in a manner both poignant and primal.\nAnderson has debuted with four stone-cold masterpieces in a row, each tackling a wide range of subject matter, and each of great import to the evolution of modern cinema. Warning lights typically start flashing when a current filmmaker is compared to the likes of Altman, Kubrick or Malick, but at this point, it's entirely apt to toss Anderson's name in the ring. With "There Will Be Blood," he has fashioned a new kind of epic -- born not just of the blood, sweat and tears of his actors and collaborators, but of the lifeblood of America itself.
Workaholics, alcoholics, sexaholics — they’re all the same. When something’s controlling your life and ruining everything else around you, it’s an addiction. Admitting it is up to the “holic” in question. If he or she chooses to deny it, that’s where loved ones come in.\nSometimes, you need an intervention. I’m not just talking about a Bahamavention or a trip to rehab. \nFirst aired in 2005, the A&E reality show “Intervention” follows various addicts while their friends and family attempt to give them one last ultimatum. The program provides a gripping and often disturbing look at the world of addicts. If A&E fails to get back to you in time, try to think back to a time before reality shows did all our dirty work for us and put matters into your own hands. \nThis is exactly what two of my friends did this past week to our “men-aholic” friend. After the men-aholic in question confessed to seeing a lowlife of a guy this past weekend, they both realized it had to stop. Because these two interventionists are also budding entrepreneurs and Kelley business majors, they set up a contract. \nNo sex, dates or booze until the end of the semester. If these guidelines are broken, the men-aholic must pay $100 to each interventionist. She must also knock on every door in her dorm, declaring to each one of her floormates that she is an idiot. If the men-aholic deceives the interventionists, she must pay an additional $500 for lying. There are two exceptions in this contract: The menaholic is allowed to consume alcohol during spring break, and she is allowed to date one interventionist-approved male. \nThis weekend, the men-aholic did not break any of her terms. On Friday evening, amongst the two interventionists and the menaholic, I told a group of our friends at a party of this experiment. These girls immediately began laughing — commending the men-aholic while claiming they could never sign such a contract themselves.\nCollege has more or less accepted sexaholism and alcoholism not as problems or addictions, but as social norms. There’s hardly such a thing as a casual drinker. And let’s face it, nobody’s drinking Kamchatka vodka for its refined taste. This is the way of life. \nAnd in a way, that’s what the social aspect of college is all about. When you’re not studying, writing papers or trying to find an internship for the summer, you want to unwind. It’s a means to get all the crazy out of us before we hit the real world. What young Hollywood socialites are being condemned for isn’t far off the social norms of college life. \nBut addictions, vices and bad habits don’t just disappear when we graduate. They are often self-perpetuating and then you end up with a bad case of syphilis and a worthless liver. \nSo, when you’re choosing to live free or die hard, try to use some moderation. If not, your best friends might creep up on you and stage an intervention.
On the day of Heath Ledger’s death, I found myself more than disappointed with the American masses and the media. While I think it is important to venerate his career after his death, it’s hard to believe that everyone and their uncle were always huge fans of the actor. \nOf course, I too was shocked when I found out about his death, and naturally felt troubled — especially when I recalled that he and Brokeback Mountain castmate Michelle Williams have a daughter. \nI guess everyone became a Notorious B.I.G. fan when he died, and a lot of people went out and got Aaliyah albums after her death. If Kurt Cobain hadn’t died at the prime of his career, his fans might have turned on him later on. People obviously feel sympathetic when it comes to death — especially when it involves such young people. But that doesn’t mean we should all pretend “10 Things I Hate About You” was our favorite teen flick of the 90’s. \nThe original 80’s teen satire “Heathers” truly depicted how people react to sudden death. When three of the most shallow high school archetypes allegedly commit suicide, the film suggests, “Suicide gave Heather depth, Kurt a soul and Ram a brain.” \nSometimes, immediate reverence is depicted in the worst taste possible. Take for example a Best Buy in San Diego, who constructed a display filled with Ledger’s DVDs — from “Brokeback” to “Lords of Dogtown” — and wrote “Remember a Great Actor Through His Great Performances.” \nIn even worst taste, Fox News host John Gibson mocked Ledger’s death. Gibson, who called “Brokeback Mountain” “a gay agenda movie,” incorporated clips of the film, and stated that Jake Gyllenhaal finally found a way to quit Ledger. He also called Ledger “a weirdo” who had “a serious drug problem.” \nPundits such as Maia Szalavitz of the Huffington Post chose to use Ledger’s death as a way to advertise against the perils of prescription pain killers — when it has yet to be established that this was the cause of his death. Tabloid magazines have used his death as a way to exploit his relationship with Williams and his possible drug abuse.\nBoth the media and the masses have chosen to handle the death of Heath Ledger in the worst possible ways. While some are becoming insanely upset, others fail to realize that this was the death of an actual human being. It’s unfathomable to imagine what Ledger’s family is going through. Suffering through the death of a loved one is traumatizing enough, but having to walk down the street and see tabloids about his troubles could only augment the agony they are going through. \nNo individual should change their opinion about someone simply because they died. And just because Ledger is a celebrity doesn’t mean he deserves to be scrutinized to such an extent, especially so soon after his death.
A television series about the lives of extras on TV and in film sounds about as exciting and funny as a series about the lives of nine-to-fivers at a paper company, and it almost is. Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant's follow-up to the uber-brilliant original British version of "The Office" transplants the quick-witted, often obscure but always spot-on humor of that series to "Extras," a show about a man, so says the tag line, "with small parts."\n"Extras" is a show wholly concerned with its main cast, disguised as a show featuring big-name guest stars. Though the guest stars, ranging from household names in America (Ben Stiller, Samuel L. Jackson, Daniel Radcliffe, Orlando Bloom) to people only very familiar to British folks (Ross Kemp, Les Dennis, Jonathan Ross, Ronnie Corbett), all perform at their self-deprecating best. The series' real hook, however, lies in the way Andy Millman and his tag-alongs coexist with such big egos, with consistently side-splitting results.\nThere are no additional special features in this set that weren't available on the original DVD releases of "Extras" (aside from the finale), but for the uninitiated, Gervais and Merchant prove to be even more irreverent and madcap in real life as they are on screen. The gag reels go on a little too long sometimes, but the rest of what's to be mined here is at least 14k gold. A note to fans of the show who already own the first two series (that's British for "seasons"): Unless you want to spend $30+ on the finale alone, it would be wise to wait until the finale is available as a separate DVD on February 26.\nHaving deservedly won a smattering of Emmys, British Academy of Film and Television Arts awards and a very recent Golden Globe for Best TV Series Comedy, Extras will go in the books as a second work of understated comedic genius from Gervais and Merchant. I'll surely miss Andy Millman and his platonic pal Maggie, but the show went out on top, which is less than can be said for a l ot of TV comedies that let quantity trump quality. I can only hope that the show is allowed to rest in peace and not revived in an inferior American version by NBC.
I’m not exactly the world’s biggest feminist. It’s not that I don’t condone some forms of feminism; it’s just never been my bag. \nBut when I picked up the February issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine, the self-proclaimed “#1 Women’s Magazine,” I became quite disappointed. My disappointment started as early as the cover. I was initially interested in reading about this month’s cover girl Katherine Heigl. Then I saw that three of the headlines mentioned “him”: “Arouse Him Like Crazy!” “45 Ways to Get Even Closer to Him” and “The Most Satisfying Sex Position: It Turns Him On ... and It Feels Awesome for You!” I did some research on the history of Cosmopolitan Magazine. According to its Web site, Cosmo started as a general interest magazine in the late 1800s, but it became a publication for independent, sexually-liberated women in the 1960s. Part of the reason for its popularity was the way it made women not feel guilty for having pre-marital sex and discussed the issues they cared about. For example, the first issue focused on the birth control pill — which was still new at the time. \nFast forward some four decades later — and my, how things have changed. Women no longer have to abide by Victorian-era sexuality, or lack thereof. Instead, plenty of women are having guilt-free, premarital sex. Which is great, but according to Cosmopolitan articles, the sex is mainly about pleasing guys, while women pleasing themselves seems secondary. And this seems quite contrary to Dr. Joyce Brothers’ statement that “over the years, the magazine has consistently given women permission to steer their own sexuality.” In fact, the only part of the magazine that seems to focus on women steering their own sexuality is the ads section, if you know what I mean.\nI’ve never stumbled upon any men’s magazines that focus so much on pleasing and accommodating women. And I’ve definitely never read a cover story about a guy that mainly focuses on his marriage, unless it’s a story about Keven Federline. Why should the #1 women’s magazine focus on pleasing men? It might be because women in their 20s or 30s feel like their biological clocks are beginning to tick, and nobody wants to marry a cougar. Men, however, can stay bachelors as long as they like, and it’s always acceptable. \nI was also disturbed to find a piece titled, “10 Subliminal Tricks that Make People Adore You.” Here’s a new one ladies: how about being yourself for once. \nI’ll admit, there were a few good things I got from this issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine. I found a quick and easy recipe for potato gratin, one of my favorite dishes ever. Sadly, this was under a feature titled “Dinner He’ll Love You For.” I also learned that Tommy Lee Jones was Al Gore’s roommate at Harvard and that Anne Hatthaway originally turned down Heigl’s role in “Knocked Up” because “the birthing scene was too graphic.” But if those are the only perks of Cosmo, I’d like a refund.
To anyone who cried foul over the first half of the third season of "Lost" -- what were you thinking? \nFrom its 2004 inception, "Lost" has evolved like an epic novel, with each episode acting as both a stand-alone chapter and an involving piece of an elaborate mosaic. No one, however, had the stones to balk at Season 3's concluding half. The ever-deepening mythology, biting humor and final fearless plunge headlong into the future witnessed during the show's March-to-May run still has fans and casual observers alike talking. With a temporarily shortened Season 4 about to begin, the excitement among those who have stuck with the show from the beginning is palpable.\nThe cast of "Lost" remains uniformly excellent, with Terry O'Quinn (Locke) and Michael Emerson (Ben) rising slightly above the rest. The season, which started away from the beach and deep amid the land of the mysterious "Others" (probably the reason some fans protested), eventually returned to the beach and ended up off-island in real time. It's some journey and, after all, that's what "Lost" has always been about: getting found. Where it goes from here is bound to polarize some, intrigue others and blow the minds of even serious fans.\nThe seventh and final disc of this set is chock-full of enough behind-the-scenes material and Easter eggs to keep die-hard "Lost" fans occupied for a full day. Along with featurettes on the lives of the mysterious "Others" and a host of never-aired flashback scenes for specific characters, there are also the traditional blooper reels and obligatory deleted scenes. Full-episode audio commentaries are sprinkled throughout the first six discs, but the meatiest material here comes in the form of multiple "Lost on Location" segments chronicling the macro and micro levels of production, as well as the exhausting "Lost in a Day" feature that documents a given 24-hour period when several different episodes go through various stages of creation.\nThe fourth season of "Lost" begins Jan. 31 after an eight-month hiatus, and with only eight of 16 episodes set to air pending the Writer's Guild of America strike's conclusion, fans may have to wait longer than expected for the remaining episodes. I'm thinking that being one of the best dramas in television history earns "Lost" and its creative team a pass on time.
In a recent case study, researchers have come to the realization that 87 percent of college parties will eventually play Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.” The song will not only be played, but it will also be enthusiastically lip-synced, sung or danced to by 92 percent of the party’s population.\nOK, by researchers, I mean me, so don’t hold me to those statistics. But “Don’t Stop Believing” has been a recurring anthem throughout my college career. The song itself is a vague enough description of a “small town girl” and “city boy” who practically any boy or girl could relate to. Or perhaps the subject matter and lyrics are universal. Maybe we’re all “living just to find emotion” and “born to sing the blues.” While the song touches on themes of loneliness and desperation, the title and overall theme are hopeful. \nFor a long time, I thought this song might just be a Hoosier anthem. It was not until I visited a friend at Middlebury College that I realized it might be a universal college phenomenon. For those of you unfamiliar with this college, Middlebury is a Vermont liberal arts school with an undergraduate population of about 2,350. In short, it shares few similarities with our dear old IU. When I accompanied my friend to her school’s formal, I found myself at an open-air dance with a cover band consisting of middle-aged men. The band tried its best to play classics as well as Top 40 hits, including Eminem. What got the biggest response from the crowd was, of course, “Don’t Stop Believing.” I couldn’t find a single individual not singing and dancing along.\nOf course, it’s not just college kids who love Journey’s power ballad. It was popular when it was first released in 1981 and has since passed the test of time. It’s been featured in movies such as the “The Wedding Singer,” “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” and “Monster.” It was even dubbed “the greatest song ever written” in the final credits of last year’s “Aqua Teen Hunger Force: Movie for Cinemas.” Kanye West recently performed a cover of the song in honor of his belated mother, Donda West. Shortly following the Sopranos series finale which closed with “Don’t Stop Believing,” the song became the No. 1 most downloaded song on iTunes. Although the finale itself received mixed reviews, it was clear fans didn’t want to stop believing. \nPersonally, I’ve always been impartial to the song. It was not until I realized its curious popularity that I became intrigued by its appeal. I understand the significance of artists like the Beatles, and even Boyz II Men. How many of their hits have become anthems of a generations? It is the longevity and quality of a song that makes it a classic, but I find this particular anthem more kitschy than anything else. This is why I ultimately believe we might need to stop believing and find a new anthem.
The decision to make another "Die Hard" movie was questionable to begin with. The decision to edit it into oblivion to achieve a PG-13 rating was just silly. Thankfully, without box-office returns to consider, Len Wiseman's "Live Free or Die Hard" feels more naturalistic, if not as entertaining or effective as John McTiernan's installments in the series. \nThe selling point here is the depiction of Bruce Willis' iconic John McClane character as an "analog hero in a digital world." Imagine Gary Cooper in "High Noon" with military-grade weapons and a potty mouth. There's the plot (terrorists, mainframes and general computer-induced disaster looming over a helplessly technology-dependent society), and then there's the action. Of course McClane saves the day, as well as his daughter, played by the arrestingly hot Mary Elizabeth Winstead, but not before blasting countless baddies and dodging flying cars, helicopters and an F-35 Lightning II. It's over-the-top, but at least it keeps you in your seat. \nIf you're a fan of the "Die Hard" series, there's no question that the two-disc unrated edition is the one to buy. It's better to forget the PG-13 cut ever existed, and the movie benefits in every way from what's added here. On the supplements front, the first disc features a so-so commentary track with Willis and Wiseman. Disc two has a standard making-of doc, as well as a slightly surreal interview with Willis and co-star Kevin Smith. Aside from that, there's not much else going on here to warrant a double-disc presentation. \nCartoonish though it may be at times, the fourth installment of the "Die Hard" series is suitable, throwaway popcorn fare, better than "Die Hard 2" but out of the league of the original and "Die Hard with a Vengeance." Bringing back John McClane, and especially all the intangibles Willis brings to the character, make this (hopefully) final installment worth the price of the DVD despite its flaws.