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(01/23/06 5:38am)
It's still January and I'm getting pumped out over spring break early this year.\nEvery March, carloads of undergraduates caravan to Panama City, or max out a parent's credit card on Cancun plane tickets. Maybe everybody else knows something I don't. Maybe they're going down there to meet the fun bus. I doubt it though. You can drink anywhere, I say. No use spending all that cash on travel when there's plenty of beer at home.\nSee, my budget doesn't allow me to go too far. So I try to see something I've never seen before, but will keep me under $300. Sometimes this works, sometimes not. \nLike, dude, check it out: three years ago? Went home. Hung out with Mom, which was an abject spring break failure. I love Mom, but I've seen Valparaiso before.\nTwo years ago, my roommate and I surprised my cousins in Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. And believe me, nothing says "relaxation" like the role of the unexpected house guest. Regardless, this wielded better results.\nThen last year, I drove to Vegas. Alone. You wouldn't know this by looking at a map, but it's a long way across the plain states and there's plenty of stuff to do along the way. I saw the International UFO Museum in Roswell, N.M., and Monument Valley in the Navajo Nation. And yeah, granted I slept in my car a night or two, but I still saw the Southwest on the cheap. \nEach year, I've tried to up the ante. But I've hit a roadblock. What if there's nothing better to do than load up my car with non-perishable food and drive to the point of no return? A friend of mine just bought a ticket to France. My sister is going to Alaska. You can't do France or Alaska on 300 bucks. If you're cheap, and I am, you've got to find a viable solution.\nWell, turns out, there is a viable solution running right through campus, between 12th and 13th streets at about 30 mph.\nThis year, everyone, I'm going train hopping. \nTrain hopping is pretty much what it sounds like: finding a train, "hopping" on it, and riding it to a not necessarily determined destination. Kind of like being a hobo, only for recreation. \nBut as simple as it may be, it's quite an involved endeavor. First off, it's dangerous: riding aboard a freight train that's sole purpose is to transport freight (not bored youth and transients) can get a little dodgy. Secondly, it's illegal. Union Pacific doesn't exactly invite train hoppers along, and they do prosecute. \nBut most importantly, it has the propensity to be very fun. Seeing America from an open boxcar (which I'm told is the luxury suite of the freight train) could provide for a trip that most won't experience. It involves camping (fun), travel (fun), and mildly illegal activity (fun). I like all of these things. The rails call to me.\nSo armed with a sleeping bag, 50 in cash tucked in my nether regions, and a warm change of clothes, I'm setting off this March. I will consult a map, and I'll call home to Mom. But no one will say I won't have a spring break worth remembering. And it'll be fiscally responsible, if I manage to avoid any court costs.
(01/19/06 5:00am)
Jerry Bruckheimer (producer "Pirates of the Caribbean") is one slick son of a bitch. His movies always look good. Production value is always high. No one ever goes cheap on his films. You've gotta give him that, at least.\nIn his latest endeavor, he's decided to tackle the genre "inspirational semi-historic sports movie" that Walt Disney Pictures seems to like so much. But doing that isn't so hard, because the story you're working with is already written out with a fairy tale ending. I mean, it's historic. Somebody already did it. \nI'll tell you what you would need to make a film like this one. You get some game footage, and some '60s NCAA records books. Condense a half a decade of a coach's tenure into two hours. Add some awkward "I ain't never seen a black man before" moments so the white guys can show a little racial tension. Shoot in El Paso. Then, after its been shot, hire some orchestra to play soul-stirring music at the appropriate cues, and acquire the rights to half a dozen Motown hits. Dump all of this into the chute of the Disney machine, along with some sugar, spice and everything nice, and crank the handle. After a couple of minutes, "Glory Road" will fall out the other end. \nWrite all that down. Only a half-awake idiot could mess that up.\nBruckheimer and first-time director James Gartner, even when fully awake, aren't anything to write home about. But they do make a decidedly average popcorn flick. \nYeah, so "Glory Road" is the story of the 1966 Texas Western Miners, led by coach Don Haskins (Josh Lucas), which pulled the unprecedented move of starting five black guys against the white bread Kentucky Wildcats led by Adolph Rupp (Jon Voight) in the NCAA championship game. \nThey won. \nNow that you know how it ends -- and that was never in question, of course -- you can fill in the necessary sports movie clichés. There's a couple of attitude problems. One guy doesn't show enough heart, and has to find "it" within himself. And another guy has to sit because of a medical condition. In the end, everyone finds their role and gels, and they roll over a bunch of crackers in tight athletic shorts on their way to a 27-1 season.\nThe movie wasn't bad in its execution. It's just tired, and I guarantee you've seen it before. It's formulaic, and that's a death sentence for any movie that claims to be about bigger and better things. That's not to say what the Miners did that season wasn't spectacular. That yes, a fully integrated college basketball team was unheard of in the '60s, and it's no secret that they put up with an extraordinary amount of bullshit because of that. Racists, apparently, were big basketball fans. \nBut that doesn't mean we need a movie made about it.\nI mean, honestly. If you're going to take something as culturally important as the civil rights movement and make a retread of every "Hoosiers" the world has ever seen, then why bother at all? \nThey could have tried something a little more fresh; like, say, a dark comedy. When the Miners' Goliath center catches his teammate's pass off the backboard, jams it, and hangs for a second while his nuts slap against the awkward white boy defender's face, that's funny. That makes for good comedy. God, if only they had gone to me for the screenplay. There could have been a hundred of similar moments.\nToo bad they didn't. "Glory Road" is "Remember the Titans" on the basketball court, and while it's well made, there's no reason to see it again. Don't waste your time.
(01/19/06 1:29am)
Jerry Bruckheimer (producer "Pirates of the Caribbean") is one slick son of a bitch. His movies always look good. Production value is always high. No one ever goes cheap on his films. You've gotta give him that, at least.\nIn his latest endeavor, he's decided to tackle the genre "inspirational semi-historic sports movie" that Walt Disney Pictures seems to like so much. But doing that isn't so hard, because the story you're working with is already written out with a fairy tale ending. I mean, it's historic. Somebody already did it. \nI'll tell you what you would need to make a film like this one. You get some game footage, and some '60s NCAA records books. Condense a half a decade of a coach's tenure into two hours. Add some awkward "I ain't never seen a black man before" moments so the white guys can show a little racial tension. Shoot in El Paso. Then, after its been shot, hire some orchestra to play soul-stirring music at the appropriate cues, and acquire the rights to half a dozen Motown hits. Dump all of this into the chute of the Disney machine, along with some sugar, spice and everything nice, and crank the handle. After a couple of minutes, "Glory Road" will fall out the other end. \nWrite all that down. Only a half-awake idiot could mess that up.\nBruckheimer and first-time director James Gartner, even when fully awake, aren't anything to write home about. But they do make a decidedly average popcorn flick. \nYeah, so "Glory Road" is the story of the 1966 Texas Western Miners, led by coach Don Haskins (Josh Lucas), which pulled the unprecedented move of starting five black guys against the white bread Kentucky Wildcats led by Adolph Rupp (Jon Voight) in the NCAA championship game. \nThey won. \nNow that you know how it ends -- and that was never in question, of course -- you can fill in the necessary sports movie clichés. There's a couple of attitude problems. One guy doesn't show enough heart, and has to find "it" within himself. And another guy has to sit because of a medical condition. In the end, everyone finds their role and gels, and they roll over a bunch of crackers in tight athletic shorts on their way to a 27-1 season.\nThe movie wasn't bad in its execution. It's just tired, and I guarantee you've seen it before. It's formulaic, and that's a death sentence for any movie that claims to be about bigger and better things. That's not to say what the Miners did that season wasn't spectacular. That yes, a fully integrated college basketball team was unheard of in the '60s, and it's no secret that they put up with an extraordinary amount of bullshit because of that. Racists, apparently, were big basketball fans. \nBut that doesn't mean we need a movie made about it.\nI mean, honestly. If you're going to take something as culturally important as the civil rights movement and make a retread of every "Hoosiers" the world has ever seen, then why bother at all? \nThey could have tried something a little more fresh; like, say, a dark comedy. When the Miners' Goliath center catches his teammate's pass off the backboard, jams it, and hangs for a second while his nuts slap against the awkward white boy defender's face, that's funny. That makes for good comedy. God, if only they had gone to me for the screenplay. There could have been a hundred of similar moments.\nToo bad they didn't. "Glory Road" is "Remember the Titans" on the basketball court, and while it's well made, there's no reason to see it again. Don't waste your time.
(01/12/06 5:00am)
Kristanna Loken ("Termninator 3") has nice breasts. \nThat is the one and only reason you should go and see the horror/adventure/vampire flick she stars in, "BloodRayne." She pulls them out and bounces around on top of some mulleted vampire hunter for about two minutes. You get to see them. It's kind of nice. But, although they may not be hers, I'm told you can see all sorts of boobies for free on the internet. So that kind of cancels out the film's only draw. Beyond that, I'm at a loss. There's hardly anything to tell you; it's just really, really bad. Really.\nBut okay. Because someone is bound not to listen to me, Loken leads as Rayne. She's a -- what do you call it? -- a dhampir, which means she's half human/half vampire, and I guess totally super strong. She's the daughter of a powerful vampire named Kagan played by Sir Ben Kingsley ("Gandhi"), who raped and killed Rayne's mother. I think the raping resulted in Rayne, but that's not really explained. Either way, she hates him, and the rest of the movie is spent running around some generic European country that's populated by all sorts of folks. \nFolks like vampire killer Michael Madsen ("Kill Bill"), whose excuse for this turd of a performance is probably a massive coke habit the public has yet to hear about; Meat Loaf ("Fight Club"), apparently a vampire pimp who wants to get up on Loken during his ten minutes of screen time before he eats it in a CGI fire; and Billy Zane ("Dead Calm"), whose character is explained as the exiled leader of an anti-vampire hate group called the Brimstone Society. From what I gathered, he's also girl vampire hunter Michelle Rodriguez's father -- but I'm not really sure what that has to do with anything, as he disappears without any explanation about 45 minutes into the movie.\nI'd like to break here to apologize if this seems rambling and incoherent, but that's what I'm going for. "BloodRayne" is very hard to follow, thanks in no small part to some incredibly unnecessary jumps in its internal timeline. I sleepwalked through the second half of the movie, but I did keep thinking how much better it would have been if they had just cut it correctly in the first place. \nBut, alas, they didn't. I'm proud to say that this is the first Uwe Boll-directed movie I've sat through, because untrained monkeys could better handle a camera. I've heard he sucks, and he delivered. "BloodRayne," besides Kristanna Loken's boobs, is horrible. Everyone involved should be ashamed. And if given the choice, I'd rather burn myself with a curling iron than view it again.
(01/12/06 12:42am)
Kristanna Loken ("Termninator 3") has nice breasts. \nThat is the one and only reason you should go and see the horror/adventure/vampire flick she stars in, "BloodRayne." She pulls them out and bounces around on top of some mulleted vampire hunter for about two minutes. You get to see them. It's kind of nice. But, although they may not be hers, I'm told you can see all sorts of boobies for free on the internet. So that kind of cancels out the film's only draw. Beyond that, I'm at a loss. There's hardly anything to tell you; it's just really, really bad. Really.\nBut okay. Because someone is bound not to listen to me, Loken leads as Rayne. She's a -- what do you call it? -- a dhampir, which means she's half human/half vampire, and I guess totally super strong. She's the daughter of a powerful vampire named Kagan played by Sir Ben Kingsley ("Gandhi"), who raped and killed Rayne's mother. I think the raping resulted in Rayne, but that's not really explained. Either way, she hates him, and the rest of the movie is spent running around some generic European country that's populated by all sorts of folks. \nFolks like vampire killer Michael Madsen ("Kill Bill"), whose excuse for this turd of a performance is probably a massive coke habit the public has yet to hear about; Meat Loaf ("Fight Club"), apparently a vampire pimp who wants to get up on Loken during his ten minutes of screen time before he eats it in a CGI fire; and Billy Zane ("Dead Calm"), whose character is explained as the exiled leader of an anti-vampire hate group called the Brimstone Society. From what I gathered, he's also girl vampire hunter Michelle Rodriguez's father -- but I'm not really sure what that has to do with anything, as he disappears without any explanation about 45 minutes into the movie.\nI'd like to break here to apologize if this seems rambling and incoherent, but that's what I'm going for. "BloodRayne" is very hard to follow, thanks in no small part to some incredibly unnecessary jumps in its internal timeline. I sleepwalked through the second half of the movie, but I did keep thinking how much better it would have been if they had just cut it correctly in the first place. \nBut, alas, they didn't. I'm proud to say that this is the first Uwe Boll-directed movie I've sat through, because untrained monkeys could better handle a camera. I've heard he sucks, and he delivered. "BloodRayne," besides Kristanna Loken's boobs, is horrible. Everyone involved should be ashamed. And if given the choice, I'd rather burn myself with a curling iron than view it again.
(11/17/05 7:42pm)
Movies revolving around scandalous affairs seem to play well with the public. "Fatal Attraction" brought Oscar nominations and "Fear" brought a very angry Mark Wahlberg. Both brought in audiences. \nThe success of this little genre is fascinating. When you get down to it, watching some jerk suffer through all his bad decisions for our amusement is a creepy but ultimately very human form of entertainment. The idea isn't to suffer and sympathize with him, but rather to see how far he'll fall. \nMaybe it's a way of projecting our guilts upon the screen, a reaffirmation of all that is indecent and punishable. The protagonist is there to hit every branch on the way down from the top of his tree, just to remind us what not to do. We're not in his corner; we just paid the ticket price to see him get reamed. \nWell, in "Derailed," it's Clive Owen on that crucifix taking one for the team. He plays Chicago advertising executive Charles Schine, who decides to relieve some midlife stress with a quick fling (Jennifer Aniston, projecting the screen presence of celery). But then, it all goes horribly wrong. A villainous thug with a French accent (Vincent Cassel) starts slapping him around and sucking his bank account dry, and the movie spins out of control. Schine, in scenes that could be called darkly comedic, becomes more and more desperate to right his wrongs, but only makes things worse. After a few predictable twists and turns, the movie ends, and you'll sigh: just another mediocre night at the movies.\nAs far as the acting goes, it's nothing special. Owen is solid. He's likable, he's got screen presence and you know he could be doing more worthy things with his time. And it should be noted that I could have played the part of Aniston's seductress; she brings nothing special to the role, and I'm just as good-looking. \nThe rest of the supporting roles are oddly cast. Xzibit shows up as Cassel's henchman, the obligatory intimidating black guy with cornrows. Melissa George is filler as the perpetually cranky wife. But the choice of RZA as the streetwise mail guy in Owen's office was especially strange. He's a good character actor, and he makes his limited role interesting, but there's too little of him to enjoy. \nAll in all, there's not much here. Just a familiar plotline, and if you're surprised by the ending, you weren't paying attention. So wait until it comes out on video. Then, wait until you're really bored or feeling really guilty about something. Then, fine, give it a shot. You have my blessing.
(11/17/05 5:00am)
Movies revolving around scandalous affairs seem to play well with the public. "Fatal Attraction" brought Oscar nominations and "Fear" brought a very angry Mark Wahlberg. Both brought in audiences. \nThe success of this little genre is fascinating. When you get down to it, watching some jerk suffer through all his bad decisions for our amusement is a creepy but ultimately very human form of entertainment. The idea isn't to suffer and sympathize with him, but rather to see how far he'll fall. \nMaybe it's a way of projecting our guilts upon the screen, a reaffirmation of all that is indecent and punishable. The protagonist is there to hit every branch on the way down from the top of his tree, just to remind us what not to do. We're not in his corner; we just paid the ticket price to see him get reamed. \nWell, in "Derailed," it's Clive Owen on that crucifix taking one for the team. He plays Chicago advertising executive Charles Schine, who decides to relieve some midlife stress with a quick fling (Jennifer Aniston, projecting the screen presence of celery). But then, it all goes horribly wrong. A villainous thug with a French accent (Vincent Cassel) starts slapping him around and sucking his bank account dry, and the movie spins out of control. Schine, in scenes that could be called darkly comedic, becomes more and more desperate to right his wrongs, but only makes things worse. After a few predictable twists and turns, the movie ends, and you'll sigh: just another mediocre night at the movies.\nAs far as the acting goes, it's nothing special. Owen is solid. He's likable, he's got screen presence and you know he could be doing more worthy things with his time. And it should be noted that I could have played the part of Aniston's seductress; she brings nothing special to the role, and I'm just as good-looking. \nThe rest of the supporting roles are oddly cast. Xzibit shows up as Cassel's henchman, the obligatory intimidating black guy with cornrows. Melissa George is filler as the perpetually cranky wife. But the choice of RZA as the streetwise mail guy in Owen's office was especially strange. He's a good character actor, and he makes his limited role interesting, but there's too little of him to enjoy. \nAll in all, there's not much here. Just a familiar plotline, and if you're surprised by the ending, you weren't paying attention. So wait until it comes out on video. Then, wait until you're really bored or feeling really guilty about something. Then, fine, give it a shot. You have my blessing.
(11/10/05 5:00am)
I remember the first time I heard about Pokémon. \nMust've been seven or eight years ago. On the evening news they said some cartoon show in Japan was causing seizures in epileptic children. Lots of flashing lights, everything moving at a hyperactive pace. \nAnyway, while watching "Chicken Little," that newscast came to mind. And if that doesn't say something about the film, I'll be more blunt: anything as frenetic as this movie should come with a warning label from the Surgeon General. One in every handful of kids is bound to flip out while watching it. \n"Chicken Little" is Disney's first in-house-produced computer animated feature, and you could write a book about how it matches up visually with other 3-D films like "Shrek," or the Pixar cash machines "Finding Nemo" or "The Incredibles." But that would be missing the point. No one is going to walk into an animated Disney feature and ever comment that it doesn't look up to snuff. \nThe problem here is what's actually on the screen. So much is jammed into an hour and a half that it's nearly impossible to take it all in. The movie barely lingers on one thought before bouncing off to the next. There's no way the five-year-old to which it's marketed caught it all if I'm missing most of it. Trust me, I'm sharp like that.\nThe movie is slightly based on the fable "The Sky is Falling," but beyond using its cast of characters, it's a new story. In this version, Chicken Little (voiced by Zach Braff... yes, that Zach Braff) notices the sky is falling. No one believes him until it turns out to be an alien invasion -- which makes for enough set pieces for the film to thrash through in the allotted time you can expect to keep a kindergartner in his/her seat. Anyhow, throw in a morality tale about father-son communication, and it's ready to rock. \nBeyond that, it's nothing special. I will acknowledge it's got one of the most impressive voice casts I've seen in an animated film. I counted Don Knotts, Fred Willard, Steve Zahn, Joan Cusack, Adam West, Katherine O'Hara, the inconceivable Wallace Shawn and Patrick Stewart, among many others.\nBut I'll bet your five-year-old has never seen "The Princess Bride," and he won't be too impressed. So skip the 90-minutes of Disney hysteria; take him to a playground instead. He could use the fresh air.
(11/10/05 1:10am)
I remember the first time I heard about Pokémon. \nMust've been seven or eight years ago. On the evening news they said some cartoon show in Japan was causing seizures in epileptic children. Lots of flashing lights, everything moving at a hyperactive pace. \nAnyway, while watching "Chicken Little," that newscast came to mind. And if that doesn't say something about the film, I'll be more blunt: anything as frenetic as this movie should come with a warning label from the Surgeon General. One in every handful of kids is bound to flip out while watching it. \n"Chicken Little" is Disney's first in-house-produced computer animated feature, and you could write a book about how it matches up visually with other 3-D films like "Shrek," or the Pixar cash machines "Finding Nemo" or "The Incredibles." But that would be missing the point. No one is going to walk into an animated Disney feature and ever comment that it doesn't look up to snuff. \nThe problem here is what's actually on the screen. So much is jammed into an hour and a half that it's nearly impossible to take it all in. The movie barely lingers on one thought before bouncing off to the next. There's no way the five-year-old to which it's marketed caught it all if I'm missing most of it. Trust me, I'm sharp like that.\nThe movie is slightly based on the fable "The Sky is Falling," but beyond using its cast of characters, it's a new story. In this version, Chicken Little (voiced by Zach Braff... yes, that Zach Braff) notices the sky is falling. No one believes him until it turns out to be an alien invasion -- which makes for enough set pieces for the film to thrash through in the allotted time you can expect to keep a kindergartner in his/her seat. Anyhow, throw in a morality tale about father-son communication, and it's ready to rock. \nBeyond that, it's nothing special. I will acknowledge it's got one of the most impressive voice casts I've seen in an animated film. I counted Don Knotts, Fred Willard, Steve Zahn, Joan Cusack, Adam West, Katherine O'Hara, the inconceivable Wallace Shawn and Patrick Stewart, among many others.\nBut I'll bet your five-year-old has never seen "The Princess Bride," and he won't be too impressed. So skip the 90-minutes of Disney hysteria; take him to a playground instead. He could use the fresh air.
(11/03/05 5:00am)
Dave Spritz is a Chicagoland news weather guy. He's got a nice apartment, a nice car and an unbelievably easy job. For better or for worse, he's got local fame. And a national morning news program (and its substantial pay increase) is looking for a new Willard Scott, and they think it might be him. They've seen his work, and they're impressed. \nBut outside the studio, he's a total wreck. He's estranged from his wife and his kids would just as soon not talk to him. So what gives?\nDavid's biggest problem is he's fallen into a job that takes no effort at all. He's no meteorologist; he's a smiling face who works well in front of a green screen, puts in less than a half day's work and pulls in six figures. There is no real substance to what he does. \nBut this lack of effort has made him lazy. You can imagine he expects life to be as calming and cheerful as the chirpy morning television his professional persona inhabits -- and the film catches him just as he comes to the inevitable conclusion that it's not. \n"The Weather Man" is a pretty solid film all around. It's directed by Gore Verbinski, the guy behind the "Pirates of the Caribbean" series and "The Ring." His latest would not seem fitting at all in this series, but if anything, that's a credit to his ability. \nVerbinski gets a lot of help, too, from his star. What makes Nicolas Cage's performance so lovely is that it would be easy to call Spritz pathetic. But if the film teaches us anything, it's that nothing comes easy, and that includes generalizations. So, in the spirit of that, he isn't so much pathetic as he is exasperated. He doesn't understand how to make his kids (Gemmenne de la Pena and Nicholas Hoult) talk to him, he can't figure out a way to please his father (Michael Caine) and he can't make ground with his ex-wife (Hope Davis). But it's not that he can't, it's that he simply doesn't know how. \nThere's a scene midway through the film where David, after dropping his daughter off, sits in his car in front of the house where he used to live. She's overweight, shy and picked on by other kids at school, but he looks at the mansion his carefree morning show has allowed him to purchase, and all he can think to himself is "she's supposed to be happy." As to why she isn't, he's baffled. He'd fix it if he could, and that's what he spends most of his time doing -- trying to figure out how to fix his problems. \n"The Weather Man" doesn't answer anything. If you go into this movie looking for resolution for Dave's problems, you're in the wrong theater. It merely points them out and comments on them. He may get a few of them figured out, but it's not so much answering his questions that is his conflict as it is learning to deal with them. Whether he does or not is what makes this film worth watching.
(11/03/05 1:15am)
Dave Spritz is a Chicagoland news weather guy. He's got a nice apartment, a nice car and an unbelievably easy job. For better or for worse, he's got local fame. And a national morning news program (and its substantial pay increase) is looking for a new Willard Scott, and they think it might be him. They've seen his work, and they're impressed. \nBut outside the studio, he's a total wreck. He's estranged from his wife and his kids would just as soon not talk to him. So what gives?\nDavid's biggest problem is he's fallen into a job that takes no effort at all. He's no meteorologist; he's a smiling face who works well in front of a green screen, puts in less than a half day's work and pulls in six figures. There is no real substance to what he does. \nBut this lack of effort has made him lazy. You can imagine he expects life to be as calming and cheerful as the chirpy morning television his professional persona inhabits -- and the film catches him just as he comes to the inevitable conclusion that it's not. \n"The Weather Man" is a pretty solid film all around. It's directed by Gore Verbinski, the guy behind the "Pirates of the Caribbean" series and "The Ring." His latest would not seem fitting at all in this series, but if anything, that's a credit to his ability. \nVerbinski gets a lot of help, too, from his star. What makes Nicolas Cage's performance so lovely is that it would be easy to call Spritz pathetic. But if the film teaches us anything, it's that nothing comes easy, and that includes generalizations. So, in the spirit of that, he isn't so much pathetic as he is exasperated. He doesn't understand how to make his kids (Gemmenne de la Pena and Nicholas Hoult) talk to him, he can't figure out a way to please his father (Michael Caine) and he can't make ground with his ex-wife (Hope Davis). But it's not that he can't, it's that he simply doesn't know how. \nThere's a scene midway through the film where David, after dropping his daughter off, sits in his car in front of the house where he used to live. She's overweight, shy and picked on by other kids at school, but he looks at the mansion his carefree morning show has allowed him to purchase, and all he can think to himself is "she's supposed to be happy." As to why she isn't, he's baffled. He'd fix it if he could, and that's what he spends most of his time doing -- trying to figure out how to fix his problems. \n"The Weather Man" doesn't answer anything. If you go into this movie looking for resolution for Dave's problems, you're in the wrong theater. It merely points them out and comments on them. He may get a few of them figured out, but it's not so much answering his questions that is his conflict as it is learning to deal with them. Whether he does or not is what makes this film worth watching.
(10/27/05 4:00am)
I remember when I was a moody adolescent, I'd go over to my buddy's house where he and I would spend hours playing a popular, ultra-violent video game on his dad's computer.\nThis summer, when I was a much more well-adjusted college student, I sat in front of my television for hours playing a similarly popular, ultra-violent video game by the same name on my Xbox. I guess some things never change. You can imagine my surprise when the powers that be decided to grace us with a live action version of countless hours wasted.\nAnd it's more or less just like the game series it's based on -- only the film version has The Rock and an unnecessarily confusing plotline. Regardless, anyone who enjoyed the games will enjoy the movie, and it might pick up a few other fans along the way.\nThe games were quite straightforward: in the future, some jerks open up a portal to hell on a Martian Marine base. Everybody but the protagonist gets iced, so it's up to that lone Marine to mow through every sort of ghastly beast some geeks with an early nineties graphics engine can dream up. \nThe movie, also set on Mars, replaces the demons with genetically engineered mutants and throws in some bullshit about archaeology and an ancient Martian civilization. This story is spoon fed to us by the token beautiful scientist (Rosamund Pike) and after that's out of the way, it gets down to the real point -- which is putting half a dozen heavily armed personality types, led by the Rock and a tormented battle hardened vet (Karl Urban), in a confined space with vicious monsters with the mission objective of "nothing gets out alive." Organized chaos ensues.\nDirector Andrzej Bartkowiak ("Romeo Must Die," "Exit Wounds") got the look of the film down ice cold. Aesthetically, it's perfect: long corridors, dark corners and no clear shot of the mutant demon you know is staring Private Hamburger in the face. It all really adds to the tension of the movie. Like the games (especially "Doom 3"), it leaves the viewer helpless and at the mercy of the elements, just like a good horror movie should. \nHowever, Bartkowiak seems to have a hard time walking the fine line between of development and action. For something like "Doom," this should be a no-brainer: keep the back story simple and use the chainsaw and shotgun profusely. Oh, it's got plenty of that, don't get me wrong, but I can think of a few different times where someone launches off on a monologue, or Urban frowns a little too long in self-loathing, and I thought to myself, "Really, who cares? Somebody kill a demon!"\nAll in all, though, the film realizes what it is, and sticks to its roots. It has enough action to keep the average viewer entertained for two hours, and there are enough references to the video game to keep the hardcore fans happy.
(10/27/05 1:32am)
I remember when I was a moody adolescent, I'd go over to my buddy's house where he and I would spend hours playing a popular, ultra-violent video game on his dad's computer.\nThis summer, when I was a much more well-adjusted college student, I sat in front of my television for hours playing a similarly popular, ultra-violent video game by the same name on my Xbox. I guess some things never change. You can imagine my surprise when the powers that be decided to grace us with a live action version of countless hours wasted.\nAnd it's more or less just like the game series it's based on -- only the film version has The Rock and an unnecessarily confusing plotline. Regardless, anyone who enjoyed the games will enjoy the movie, and it might pick up a few other fans along the way.\nThe games were quite straightforward: in the future, some jerks open up a portal to hell on a Martian Marine base. Everybody but the protagonist gets iced, so it's up to that lone Marine to mow through every sort of ghastly beast some geeks with an early nineties graphics engine can dream up. \nThe movie, also set on Mars, replaces the demons with genetically engineered mutants and throws in some bullshit about archaeology and an ancient Martian civilization. This story is spoon fed to us by the token beautiful scientist (Rosamund Pike) and after that's out of the way, it gets down to the real point -- which is putting half a dozen heavily armed personality types, led by the Rock and a tormented battle hardened vet (Karl Urban), in a confined space with vicious monsters with the mission objective of "nothing gets out alive." Organized chaos ensues.\nDirector Andrzej Bartkowiak ("Romeo Must Die," "Exit Wounds") got the look of the film down ice cold. Aesthetically, it's perfect: long corridors, dark corners and no clear shot of the mutant demon you know is staring Private Hamburger in the face. It all really adds to the tension of the movie. Like the games (especially "Doom 3"), it leaves the viewer helpless and at the mercy of the elements, just like a good horror movie should. \nHowever, Bartkowiak seems to have a hard time walking the fine line between of development and action. For something like "Doom," this should be a no-brainer: keep the back story simple and use the chainsaw and shotgun profusely. Oh, it's got plenty of that, don't get me wrong, but I can think of a few different times where someone launches off on a monologue, or Urban frowns a little too long in self-loathing, and I thought to myself, "Really, who cares? Somebody kill a demon!"\nAll in all, though, the film realizes what it is, and sticks to its roots. It has enough action to keep the average viewer entertained for two hours, and there are enough references to the video game to keep the hardcore fans happy.
(10/20/05 4:00am)
At one point in the middle of this loss of eight bucks, Selma "I'm only in it for the paycheck" Blair asks an intriguing question: "What kind of fog goes against the wind?"\nI know the answer. The kind of fog that sucks. Hard.\nLater, after a bunch of extras die in incredibly unimaginative ways, she figures it out. There's something about this here fog that ain't right: "There's something in the fog!" she wails. \nShe's right. There is something in the fog. And it sucks. \nAre you getting the point?\n"The Fog" is a remake of a John Carpenter film of the same name, only this time it's directed by Rupert Wainwright, the cinematic genius behind "Stigmata" and "Blank Check." I haven't seen "Blank Check" since my testicles descended, and "Stigmata" was overdone, but if this is Wainwright's idea of a horror movie, he shouldn't be allowed near a camera again by court order. \nIt's really not fair to compare the remake to the original film. Carpenter is considered by many to be a god of the horror genre, and while "The Fog" was never considered his masterpiece, it was still well received by fans. This movie, on the other hand, exists on an entirely different level of horrid. \nBut hey, what the hell, let's summarize. Nick Castle (Tom Welling) is an attractive twenty-something who runs fishing charters from quaint Antonio Island, Oregon. He's got a sidekick (DeRay Davis) who's supposed to provide comic relief, and a love interest (Maggie Grace), and lives in a stunningly beautiful seaside village, but still manages to hate his surroundings. Why? Who knows; the movie doesn't bother to explain.\nAnyway, it turns out that the town's founding fathers did some shady business with a bunch of lepers back in the day, and now the lepers' CGI ghosts are back to take revenge on their descendants. That's your premise.\nOh, and they do it all in the fog. The ghosts arrive and move through the fog. Carpenter used it to add to suspense, but now it just looks like a garage band smoke machine. It's weak-looking, not creepy and there's no point -- save the fact that they had to call the movie something, and "This Movie Was Totally Half-assed" was vetoed by the studio.\nSo yeah, the fog and the ghosts start offing the cast. But you won't care, because it's painfully obvious that the cast doesn't either. They're as aware as the rest of us that the script sucks, and so does the effort. If a film attempts to raise tension because a character can't drive manual, there's something wrong. That happens here. Seriously.\nThrow in a head-scratching ending to completely muddle whatever it was that "The Fog" was trying to accomplish, and you've got one of the worst movies of 2005. And, as of last Friday, it's playing on two screens at the local theater, which means that Hollywood thinks the public actually enjoys this kind of stuff.\nProve them wrong. Please, please, please don't see "The Fog"
(10/20/05 3:01am)
At one point in the middle of this loss of eight bucks, Selma "I'm only in it for the paycheck" Blair asks an intriguing question: "What kind of fog goes against the wind?"\nI know the answer. The kind of fog that sucks. Hard.\nLater, after a bunch of extras die in incredibly unimaginative ways, she figures it out. There's something about this here fog that ain't right: "There's something in the fog!" she wails. \nShe's right. There is something in the fog. And it sucks. \nAre you getting the point?\n"The Fog" is a remake of a John Carpenter film of the same name, only this time it's directed by Rupert Wainwright, the cinematic genius behind "Stigmata" and "Blank Check." I haven't seen "Blank Check" since my testicles descended, and "Stigmata" was overdone, but if this is Wainwright's idea of a horror movie, he shouldn't be allowed near a camera again by court order. \nIt's really not fair to compare the remake to the original film. Carpenter is considered by many to be a god of the horror genre, and while "The Fog" was never considered his masterpiece, it was still well received by fans. This movie, on the other hand, exists on an entirely different level of horrid. \nBut hey, what the hell, let's summarize. Nick Castle (Tom Welling) is an attractive twenty-something who runs fishing charters from quaint Antonio Island, Oregon. He's got a sidekick (DeRay Davis) who's supposed to provide comic relief, and a love interest (Maggie Grace), and lives in a stunningly beautiful seaside village, but still manages to hate his surroundings. Why? Who knows; the movie doesn't bother to explain.\nAnyway, it turns out that the town's founding fathers did some shady business with a bunch of lepers back in the day, and now the lepers' CGI ghosts are back to take revenge on their descendants. That's your premise.\nOh, and they do it all in the fog. The ghosts arrive and move through the fog. Carpenter used it to add to suspense, but now it just looks like a garage band smoke machine. It's weak-looking, not creepy and there's no point -- save the fact that they had to call the movie something, and "This Movie Was Totally Half-assed" was vetoed by the studio.\nSo yeah, the fog and the ghosts start offing the cast. But you won't care, because it's painfully obvious that the cast doesn't either. They're as aware as the rest of us that the script sucks, and so does the effort. If a film attempts to raise tension because a character can't drive manual, there's something wrong. That happens here. Seriously.\nThrow in a head-scratching ending to completely muddle whatever it was that "The Fog" was trying to accomplish, and you've got one of the worst movies of 2005. And, as of last Friday, it's playing on two screens at the local theater, which means that Hollywood thinks the public actually enjoys this kind of stuff.\nProve them wrong. Please, please, please don't see "The Fog"
(10/13/05 4:00am)
"Waiting..." is about youth in limbo. It's about that feeling you get when you're twenty-something, a couple years past (or shy of) a college degree and you have no idea what to do with your life. It's about the feeling as if you have no point. No direction.\nI'm not sure the director was pushing for the same listlessness when he made the movie, but that's how it turned out. And that's perfectly fine. Waiting tables isn't about hopes and dreams and moral climaxes; it's about the here and now. And consequentially, a movie about waiting tables can succeed without deeper meaning or a sense of purpose. \nThe film (or, more descriptively, collection of one-liners) was written and directed by a Rob McKittrick -- who apparently has never written or directed anything before. This is one hell of a start. While the film doesn't really go anywhere, much like its characters, it's quite funny -- and you'll never want to eat at a "neighborhood bar and grill" again.\nThe barebones plot follows a team of overworked social and sexual deviants through a shift in a suburban strip mall hell called Shenanigans, which is the culmination of every Chili's or TGI Fridays you've ever been to. Waiters Monty (Ryan Reynolds pulling off Van Wilder successfully again) and Dean (Justin Long) treat their work as an inevitability more than an opportunity. What gets them (and us) through their shift is an incredibly sick sense of humor. Which, of course, leads us to "the Game."\n"The Game" was brought to Shenanigans during a time of low staff morale by short order cook Raddimus (Luis Guzmán) and is pretty straightforward: find a creative way to flash your genitals at your coworker. Based on the uniqueness of the flashing, you get to kick him in the ass up to three times, then call him gay. The women on the staff refer to this as "an exercise in homophobic futility." I refer to it as "funny." I'm shallow. \nBeyond this running joke that peppers the film with dick jokes, the cast is rounded out with other colorful miscreants: Dane Cook takes a turn as knife-wielding kitchen staff, Andy Milonakis appears as a perpetually stoned bus boy, Chi McBride as a dishwasher and shrink for his coworkers and Patrick Benedict as a guy who just really, really can't seem to urinate in a public bathroom. You wouldn't think that last subplot would eat up fifteen minutes of the movie successfully, but McKittrick wrote a very funny script.\n"Waiting…" will not appeal to everyone. It's very crude, doesn't have much of a point and appeals to the lowest common denominator. Fortunately, people tend to go for that kind of thing. Go check it out; it'll definitely make you wonder what's going on in the kitchen.
(10/13/05 2:12am)
"Waiting..." is about youth in limbo. It's about that feeling you get when you're twenty-something, a couple years past (or shy of) a college degree and you have no idea what to do with your life. It's about the feeling as if you have no point. No direction.\nI'm not sure the director was pushing for the same listlessness when he made the movie, but that's how it turned out. And that's perfectly fine. Waiting tables isn't about hopes and dreams and moral climaxes; it's about the here and now. And consequentially, a movie about waiting tables can succeed without deeper meaning or a sense of purpose. \nThe film (or, more descriptively, collection of one-liners) was written and directed by a Rob McKittrick -- who apparently has never written or directed anything before. This is one hell of a start. While the film doesn't really go anywhere, much like its characters, it's quite funny -- and you'll never want to eat at a "neighborhood bar and grill" again.\nThe barebones plot follows a team of overworked social and sexual deviants through a shift in a suburban strip mall hell called Shenanigans, which is the culmination of every Chili's or TGI Fridays you've ever been to. Waiters Monty (Ryan Reynolds pulling off Van Wilder successfully again) and Dean (Justin Long) treat their work as an inevitability more than an opportunity. What gets them (and us) through their shift is an incredibly sick sense of humor. Which, of course, leads us to "the Game."\n"The Game" was brought to Shenanigans during a time of low staff morale by short order cook Raddimus (Luis Guzmán) and is pretty straightforward: find a creative way to flash your genitals at your coworker. Based on the uniqueness of the flashing, you get to kick him in the ass up to three times, then call him gay. The women on the staff refer to this as "an exercise in homophobic futility." I refer to it as "funny." I'm shallow. \nBeyond this running joke that peppers the film with dick jokes, the cast is rounded out with other colorful miscreants: Dane Cook takes a turn as knife-wielding kitchen staff, Andy Milonakis appears as a perpetually stoned bus boy, Chi McBride as a dishwasher and shrink for his coworkers and Patrick Benedict as a guy who just really, really can't seem to urinate in a public bathroom. You wouldn't think that last subplot would eat up fifteen minutes of the movie successfully, but McKittrick wrote a very funny script.\n"Waiting…" will not appeal to everyone. It's very crude, doesn't have much of a point and appeals to the lowest common denominator. Fortunately, people tend to go for that kind of thing. Go check it out; it'll definitely make you wonder what's going on in the kitchen.
(10/06/05 4:00am)
Never before has a film mixed class warfare and golf so seamlessly. Then again, there probably aren't a lot of options for that choice.\n"The Greatest Game Ever Played" is a classic underdog story, in the same vein as "The Match of their Lives," "Miracle," "Cinderella Man," "Seabiscuit" and every other "cellar dweller-to-champion" movie you've ever seen. That's not to say it's bad, though. Any flick that can make one of the most mind-numbingly boring spectator sports halfway interesting deserves recognition.\nThe movie is set during the 1913 U.S. Open, an event that saw 20-year-old amateur Francis Ouimet (Shia LeBeouf) triumph over British champion Harry Vardon (Stephen Dillane). That's not a spoiler, that's historical fact. It's in the record books. And now, since we already know how it's going to end -- we know Ouimet will eventually be crowned the year's champion -- where's the conflict going to come from?\nIf you ask me, it doesn't really matter, because the movie rides on great directing by Bill Paxton and some strong performances from the cast. LeBeouf is a lot more likeable in his leading role than he has been in past ones. He played the same tagalong teenager in both "I, Robot" and "Constantine," and in both he was grating, but redeems himself as Ouimet. Dillane's seasoned champion plays a convincing middle-aged mirror to society outcast Ouimet. A rotund little Josh Flitter provides humor as the protagonist's elementary-aged caddy, and Elias Koteas is solid as his blue collar immigrant father who warns him to "give up this fool's game and learn a real trade or you're out of the house." \nAnd incidentally, that's where the conflict comes in: apparently, classism was rampant in turn of the century American society. Who knew? \nA pre-movie guess would have most going with Vardon as the bad guy, but that's not the case here. Paxton and company spend quite some time showing he's the victim of the same rigid caste system as Ouimet, and it doesn't take much for the audience to identify with him. \nAnd while the bourgeois gentlemen's club overlords who serve as the film's ultimate villains do get a little heavy-handed -- it is a Disney film, after all -- they probably won't lean too much on most audiences. Through their arrogance, the point is made: golf isn't about exclusivity; it's a sport everyone should enjoy. Even when it's being played on three different sports channels on a Saturday afternoon and there's nothing else on.
(10/06/05 1:32am)
Never before has a film mixed class warfare and golf so seamlessly. Then again, there probably aren't a lot of options for that choice.\n"The Greatest Game Ever Played" is a classic underdog story, in the same vein as "The Match of their Lives," "Miracle," "Cinderella Man," "Seabiscuit" and every other "cellar dweller-to-champion" movie you've ever seen. That's not to say it's bad, though. Any flick that can make one of the most mind-numbingly boring spectator sports halfway interesting deserves recognition.\nThe movie is set during the 1913 U.S. Open, an event that saw 20-year-old amateur Francis Ouimet (Shia LeBeouf) triumph over British champion Harry Vardon (Stephen Dillane). That's not a spoiler, that's historical fact. It's in the record books. And now, since we already know how it's going to end -- we know Ouimet will eventually be crowned the year's champion -- where's the conflict going to come from?\nIf you ask me, it doesn't really matter, because the movie rides on great directing by Bill Paxton and some strong performances from the cast. LeBeouf is a lot more likeable in his leading role than he has been in past ones. He played the same tagalong teenager in both "I, Robot" and "Constantine," and in both he was grating, but redeems himself as Ouimet. Dillane's seasoned champion plays a convincing middle-aged mirror to society outcast Ouimet. A rotund little Josh Flitter provides humor as the protagonist's elementary-aged caddy, and Elias Koteas is solid as his blue collar immigrant father who warns him to "give up this fool's game and learn a real trade or you're out of the house." \nAnd incidentally, that's where the conflict comes in: apparently, classism was rampant in turn of the century American society. Who knew? \nA pre-movie guess would have most going with Vardon as the bad guy, but that's not the case here. Paxton and company spend quite some time showing he's the victim of the same rigid caste system as Ouimet, and it doesn't take much for the audience to identify with him. \nAnd while the bourgeois gentlemen's club overlords who serve as the film's ultimate villains do get a little heavy-handed -- it is a Disney film, after all -- they probably won't lean too much on most audiences. Through their arrogance, the point is made: golf isn't about exclusivity; it's a sport everyone should enjoy. Even when it's being played on three different sports channels on a Saturday afternoon and there's nothing else on.
(09/29/05 4:00am)
It's official: Bow Wow is no longer lil'.\nNo one with moves like his in the roller rink can be anything less than a man. \nIn "Roll Bounce," Bow Wow, who -- seriously -- is no longer called "lil'," plays X. X lives in an unrecognizable south Chicago with his widowed father (Chi McBride), and spends all of his free time at the local skating rink with his friends. When their hangout closes its doors, they take the bus uptown to Sweetwater, a newer rink with an arcade, tons of chicks in hot pants and at least half a dozen disco balls. They skate. A lot. Which is good, because it's the best thing this movie has going for it.\nIf there were ever a case for quad skating, this movie is it. Bow Wow and a dedicated group of stunt doubles can really tear up the hardwood, and there is a certain magic to be caught in that. There are more than a few moves that will have you saying, "I didn't know you could do that on wheels." \nOutside of the rink, however, the movie falters. \n"Roll Bounce" is a film that tries, very hard, to capture the aura of the late seventies. And it does. Director Malcolm Lee (cousin of Spike) spends a lot of time on the details: Ataris. Bell bottoms. Lots of split-level ranch homes. Plenty of Yoo-Hoo. And afros -- oh, the afros... \nSo his film looks the part; that's not the problem. The problem is its focus. \nWhen I read an early synopsis of "Roll Bounce," it was described as a dramatic comedy. I guess that's because it tries to do both. You've got your "Bow Wow and his goofball friends cracking dumb jokes all summer" storyline on one hand, and the "proud but unemployed father trying to keep the family together after mom dies" on the other. Coming-of-age movies aren't easily balanced, but they can be done. "Sandlot" did it with baseball. But "Roll Bounce" can't seem to find its footing on skates.\nThe movie works when it's trying to be lighthearted. Nick Cannon appears, looking like a holdover from the Jimi Hendrix Experience, as the rink's rental desk jockey. Wayne Brady makes a late appearance as the film's climactic skate-off emcee. And Mike Epps and Charlie Murphy are hysterical as the neighborhood garbage men, particularly Murphy's unexpected monologue about back alley prostitution. \nWhen it has its serious face on, though, "Roll Bounce" becomes a drag. The movie weighs in heavy at two hours, which is about half an hour more than we need. If you were to cut out the weepy-eyed "father and son coming together" plot, you'd be right at an hour and a half. So maybe when the DVD arrives, that's right where it'll be.