tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56587308571711231462024-03-05T06:21:59.609-05:00A Slice of GriceMy Mini Movie BloggleMorganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.comBlogger188125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-13434939258059910402013-08-15T16:42:00.001-04:002013-08-15T16:45:40.459-04:00Guest Blogger: He's back ... Papa G<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;">A Close Brush with death</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></u><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">My poor daughter with Juvenile Alzheimer's (ME), mis-shared a legendary tale of great trepidation I once shared with her so here it is in its less abridged and corrected form....</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To realign and refine....</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It was sister Jenny and I, 11 and 15 at the time, on one side of a 50's looking gold-glitter flecked, beige tiled bar - on the den side of it. On the other was my very serious, oft-angry and very-brilliant father tidying up the kitchen. His cigarettes sat perched on the counter quite near to her and I (as luck would have it, que lastima!).</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had in my possession a cute little red-and-white round tin of what were lovingly called "cigarette loads". These were very cool little wooden spikes about a fifth or so of the diameter of said cigarettes. I slowly opened my hand and uncapped them as I motioned from Jenny towards the cigs with my chin. Her eyes truly widened as she nodded: "No." </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I really felt somewhat possessed, as to proceed. May well have meant certain death but it was out of my hands and in the hands of a greater (much) power. It seemed to take hold of her, as well, wondrously enough, as SHE reached for the pack and handed me a cig. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I inserted the load. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Evidently, she, and I confess, I, did not want to miss the 'fun' so....when he reached for another, she said, "Here, Dad, let me," passing him the possible fuse of our demise. I think MY eyes widened in shock of her incredible bravery and audacity as this would seal her fate as a known co-conspirator.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The nails of my fingers dug into the bottom of the swivel chair's naugahide as he lit up the cigarette, turned ordinance.... </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What amazingly LOUD crack there was! Who, mind you, WHO would have thought that little bitty piece of wood (coated with some white shiny powder) would have the power to make 4, perfect, evenly spaced and sized, strips of cigarette paper dangle half way back to his super-surprised lips!! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">But, voila, there his two small eyes sat gazing at the end where once there stood a cigarette as we were collapsing in admission to our grave and perhaps last, sin.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not to besmirch, belittle or diminish...but the scene was VERY reminiscent of some I had seen on MANY a cartoon...the RoadRunner comes to mind - he the wily coyote and me having a growing desire to be saying "beep beep" and disappear into a cloud of smoke. Just on the other side of our guffaws (raucous, I'm sure) lay, in terror.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His response?....THAT WILL BE 10 CENTS! - such novel MUSIC to mine ears. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With a different set of characters his directive would have had me digging into my pockets for 20 cents - maybe even a dollar so as to engage a reenactment or two...or 10...however, far closer to my thoughts was the feeling of great fortune to have escaped with our lives.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next, Walt and my purple chicken.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-- I take a meaningful bow to My Papa G for this contribution. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've always loved that story. And love you, sir.</span></div>
Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-16640424867088663802013-08-06T17:34:00.000-04:002013-08-06T17:39:40.932-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://l3.yimg.com/bt/api/res/1.2/ltJGgHNPbZJLhEdQD5QBoA--/YXBwaWQ9eW5ld3M7Zmk9ZmlsbDtoPTI4NztxPTg1O3c9MjE1/http://media.zenfs.com/en_us/Movies/PhotoG/list-farm-team-hollywood-reporter-2010-chris-pine-53158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://l3.yimg.com/bt/api/res/1.2/ltJGgHNPbZJLhEdQD5QBoA--/YXBwaWQ9eW5ld3M7Zmk9ZmlsbDtoPTI4NztxPTg1O3c9MjE1/http://media.zenfs.com/en_us/Movies/PhotoG/list-farm-team-hollywood-reporter-2010-chris-pine-53158.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Chris Pine, my new crush.</i> </div>
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Is it possible that I haven't bloggled in almost 17 months? I've been able to keep my restless fingers from trying to embarrass me online for such a long spell?<br />
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I'm impressed with myself.<br />
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There's no point in picking a "rational" start in the egregiously long list of films I've seen of late, so I'll just blather about the first that come to mind.<br />
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I adored "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBn5dgXFMis"><b>Frances Ha</b></a>,"a Noah Baumbach movie starring Greta Gerwig as a tragically clueless, if endearing, late-20s New Yorker who can't really get her life in order. She is an aspiring / struggling dancer whose best friend is actually rounding the corner to becoming a true "grown-up," whereas dear Frances is still bouncing from apartment to apartment, boy to boy, job to job, etc.<br />
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I fear that my true adoration of the movie might stem from me finding her character sadly recognizable. Not in myself. Of course. Ahem.<br />
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It is one of my favorite movies of the year thus far.<br />
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To keep up the movie-industry optimism, I will move to "<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8atscK-3SpE">Mud</a></b>," which I saw three times in the theater. The film stars Matthew McConaughey as a scraggly-haired, chipped-teeth drifter hiding out on an island in Mississippi. He's killed a man to protect the love of his life (a very down-and-out-looking Reese Witherspoon), and bounty hunters are out to get him.<br />
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Two boys befriend Mud after finding him on the island and going on big and small adventures for Mud to help him win his Lady Love and avoid being knocked off. The two little boys, Tye Sheridan and Jacob Lofland, are ones to watch in the future. And, the last couple Matt McConaughey movies I saw were "Magic Mike" and "Killer Joe." It was nice to <b>not </b>have to see his naked behind magnified on the big screen (Magic Mike) or watch him ruthlessly kill people (Killer Joe) this time.<br />
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Also, with characters named Mud, Ellis, Neckbone and Juniper -- I was in love before I knew it. <br />
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A huge let down was "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kv6JWoVKlGY"><b>Before Midnight</b></a>," the third installment in Richard Linklater's "Before..." series starring Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke. The three films have followed the fictional couple since 1995 (<b>"Before Sunrise"</b>) when the two were young and idealistic, traveling independently in Europe. They meet on a train and fall in love, of course, during their one night together. They plan to meet up in a year, but they miss each other and don't meet until nine years later (<b>"Before Sunset"</b>) when they re-fall in love.<br />
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This time around, it's 9 MORE years later and they have settled into married life, replete with all of the bickering and mundane problems that come along with it.<br />
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But, whereas in the first two "Befores..." they were lovable and endearing in their immaturity and foibles, now they are just unlikable people. She's become a controlling mess and he's become a huge pushover, which is so very unattractive.<br />
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They need to get divorced and spare future audiences from their depressing vacuity.<br />
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Next up: <b>"The Conjuring," "This is the End," "Crystal Fairy," "The Purge," "Star Trek."</b><br />
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And, I owe it to my old Texas nemesis to promote his pretty awesome new movie blog.<br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>http://skynetandebert.com/</b>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-40392161951816426562012-03-28T14:16:00.005-04:002012-03-28T16:39:33.390-04:00The Kid with a Bike - A Return<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/KidWithABike.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 399px;" src="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/KidWithABike.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQejATCOpgJpv5VSaGegUTzHEm29CN2zyWH_Dc8ixPgyyRcvSJiM2rV7iEsGuSrQOEgPuGYK2lJ0AdsQAcrAAQMFCROSYLJOO-Z8gOo8mH13sLO3oXMD04d27YE299hyikeVmns88166Zg/s1600/kid"><br /></a><br />Due to a <span style="font-weight: bold;">dear Colombian friend </span>of mine (names have no place here), I've decided to saddle up and get back on the old blog horse. His entreaties rang true: "Don't you miss it?" I suppose I do.<br /><br />So, well, I've seen perhaps 50 gazillion movies since I last wrote, but I'll highlight the latest one.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"The Kid with a Bike" </span>-- directed by Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne<br /><br />Yes, a foreign film for those few who don't like to read subtitles. It's worth it.<br /><br />There I was, fully prepared to see this film alone, having had to drag my Friend from some Brooklyn/writer-induced gloom to the netherland that is IFC theater in Greenwich Village. Oh, I could feel through the phone how desperately sorry he felt for himself for having to get on the MTA and stand through a film he was not "in the mood" to see.<br /><br />Poppycock, is what I'd say.<br /><br />He came, we went, and afterward ... what do my bewildered ears hear?<br /><br />Me: "So, what'd you think?"<br /><br />"I thought it was great!" Brooklyn Sir exclaimed.<br /><br />Don't distrust me when I suggest a movie, fool.<br /><br />The story starts off simply, if sadly: an 11-year old boy is denounced by his father in the most inhumanely way. The kid doesn't really get it -- he thinks his dad's just on a break, or is away to make some money for home for a bit. Well, no. Dear old Dad just doesn't want you, the child quickly learns.<br /><br />Enter a quiet, compassionate hairdresser from "just down the road," her empathy for the little boy supersedes any thoughts toward her own happiness. She takes him in ...<br /><br />Yet, our little abandoned boy is still a terror, and she has to determine whether he's worth it.<br /><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0201095/" itemprop="director"></a>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-20782415943461915592011-11-04T11:28:00.004-04:002011-11-04T11:42:23.745-04:00In Time, Justin Timberlake: Cheated.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.upcoming-movies.com/movie-news-images/in-time-movie-poster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 541px; height: 755px;" src="http://www.upcoming-movies.com/movie-news-images/in-time-movie-poster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My bud and I saw "In Time" last night, the new Justin Timberlake movie. It was, perhaps, one of the worst movies I've ever seen. So bad that I now will probably see it again just to torture myself.<br /><br />Story goes a little something like this: You pay for everything (from coffee to cab rides to hitmen) with minutes of your life. Or "minutes, hours, months" and then you grab hold of whomever you're paying's wrist and you exchange time through some Total-Recall-like function. AND, everyone lives only until they're 25 -- or, that's when everyone stops aging. So, some dude on the street will say, "How old are you?" "I've been 25 for the past 175 years."<br /><br />WHAT?<br /><br />It reminded me of a Christopher Nolan interview I read way back when, where he said that he thought of the concept of "Inception" when he was a kid. And I had the thought back then, "Uhhhh, yeah, when I was about 7 I was thinking about worlds upon worlds upon worlds, too. Why are you wasting my time?"<br /><br />This was a horrific movie, and I never, ever want to see Justin Timberboots running around through the streets of a made-up town as if he were a real movie star. And, it was really sad because all the previews they played beforehand were of some great-looking action movies (new "Mission Impossible"!) that made you think that this stupid movie might be ok. It was not, those cheats.<br /><br />I will have to see something good tonight.<br /><br />That said, I will definitely be buying "In Time" because bad movies are also awesome movies. And watching people slump to the ground as a Timekeeper comes running toward them is never a bad thing.<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/efNzhEKm3w4" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-37405949887828534292011-09-29T10:57:00.003-04:002011-09-29T11:16:10.213-04:00Paul Newman, Revisited, Part 2.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.latimes.com/includes/projects/hollywood/portraits/paul_newman.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 350px;" src="http://www.latimes.com/includes/projects/hollywood/portraits/paul_newman.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I've been thinking a lot about it, and it's bothering me that I didn't mention in my last bloggle post a very big deal this past summer.<br /><br />I went on a date in early June -- something Ms. Grice never does, or doesn't like to do. This boy took me to the Museum of the Moving Image. In Astoria, Queens! It was such a trek that I thought to myself, "Well, self, if this boy doesn't get that making me go all the way up here is a big to-do, we know where he stands."<br /><br />However, I got there and holy Toledo. This was a palace. If I could've found a nook to sleep where I wouldn't be found, I'd have been sleeping there every night for the past 4 months.<br /><br />Best part was, I ran up to the ticket-taker, and he gave me the paper listing out what exhibitions were on display.<br /><br />The guy says: "Yuh know, it's Paul Newman week."<br /><br />My jaw dropped down to the floor and I swallowed many mosquitoes.<br /><br />"Ahbadabada, whaaaaaaat?"<br /><br />"Yeah, we're playing The Hustler and The Color of Money tonight. For free since you already paid for your entrance ticket. [$10!]."<br /><br />I felt like I had stumbled into my Heaven.<br /><br />The date after half an hour of bumbling around said: "So, let's go get dinner?"<br /><br />Me: "Uhh, no. Yeah right. Did you hear that guy? The Hustler AND The Color of Money?"<br /><br />He looked at me curiously; I stared back, my Texas spine finally putting itself to use. "Nah, good to know you," as I furrowed my brow. "But, I gotta go see Paul."<br /><br />In between films, I called Mama G and told her about my good fortune. She was so excited for me -- until I told her I gave up on a date. Then: "MORGAAAAAAAAN!!!!!"Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-84664057023801468532011-09-27T10:26:00.003-04:002011-09-27T10:49:08.514-04:00Paul Newman, Revisited.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKySmgVIkoggO8nLyPYAUHaYxely6p3nMs2t6N_Eo1MlUfMWGJAGUDXBAdvkb2zcx7FRecOqe_-haZcLUWftiYY_mdVsJg3JyeK1-tmyMN-xyhNKX9Bbby01S_3CjXgAGTzUsvqSsXD-NV/s1600/paul.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 360px; height: 480px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKySmgVIkoggO8nLyPYAUHaYxely6p3nMs2t6N_Eo1MlUfMWGJAGUDXBAdvkb2zcx7FRecOqe_-haZcLUWftiYY_mdVsJg3JyeK1-tmyMN-xyhNKX9Bbby01S_3CjXgAGTzUsvqSsXD-NV/s1600/paul.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />A couple weeks ago, I was tossing and turning in my bed, per usual, thinking about something inevitably inane. I was probably trying to think about the efficiency of euphemisms. Or something. All the sudden, something struck me. No, not "struck me" -- came hammering down on me like a ton of Anna Karenina-sized bricks.<br /><br />What I remembered was that it was mid-September and: Yesterday was the third anniversary of Paul Newman's death.<br /><br />If I'm honest with myself, and you, my lone reader, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Paul Newman. Maybe I'll watch a movie of his (my first born will be named Lucas); someone will joke about my love for PN, thereby reminding me; I'll glance at my a/c and see his handsome face smiling at me from an autographed still from Cool Hand Luke -- doesn't matter. Each and every day, something comes up where I'll stupidly reference a phrase from his movies or dote on him, just because.<br /><br />I'll just re-post my first, initial <a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2008/09/paul-newman-died-i-already-talked-to.html">reaction</a>:<br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px;"><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Now. I’m wiping the sleep away from my beady eyes and jolt upright in shock. My lips start to quiver, my jaw starts trembling – and it happened. I cried thankless, shameless tears as I sat there on my little air mattress in my new room (which is finally coming together, by the way).<br /><br />I’ve joked a thousand times about how I’d cry when PN died. I </span></span><a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2008/09/paul-newman-and-upset-google-can-cause.html" style="color: rgb(85, 136, 170); text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">wrote</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> about it on this silly bloggle (and jinxed it? Believe you me, that was the first reaction I had … Hell hath a place for me now, I’m sure) but I didn’t think I actually would workout the old tear ducts, like some </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kqmOrI26K0" style="color: rgb(85, 136, 170); text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">love-stricken fan</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> who wanted to impale themselves after the loss of a Beatle.<br /><br />It takes some pretty heavy things to make me cry; and it just made me realize how much I really did, and do, admire PN – everything from his early career and movie choices, to his lifestyle, and – perhaps most selfishly – how handsome and righteous his roles most often were. He will be an everlasting love.</span></span></blockquote></span></div><br />Then, there was last year's <a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2010/09/breaking-bloggle-hiatus-remembering.html">post</a>:<br /><br /><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></b></div><blockquote><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today is the second anniversary of Paul Newman's death</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. Crestfallen.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'd been thinking about this day all month, ever since I visited a friend in Westport, CT for a few days, where Paul Newman lived until his death. As we drove from the train station to my friend's home, he pointed out the window through the trees to the </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Westport Country Playhouse</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, where Newman's wife Joanne Woodward was artistic director and where Newman himself was part-owner of the restaurant next door. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It took a dozen swallows to loosen the knot in my throat.</span></span></b></div></blockquote><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span></b></div><br />And, now it's year 3 of no more Paul Newman. "Just passin' time, Boss."<br /><br /><object height="360" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GHf7TD4qwjk&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GHf7TD4qwjk&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="360" width="640"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-43015291559659614112011-08-22T07:57:00.009-04:002011-08-22T09:33:49.095-04:00Quadruple Feature: Final Destination 5, etc.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z46YTVFDgwttEZXOahkLVFwPykpLsh0o0JOjvvku-ImrWHxbfE7VFmp333CWLyK0VUS3G9ZZ0WVWvT4W2BelSzyYv9NLY_1C22acdo3lUiWkW7H_YTpdqOhhoEy45M-CtPeytRfi9VG2/s1600/Final+Destination+5.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z46YTVFDgwttEZXOahkLVFwPykpLsh0o0JOjvvku-ImrWHxbfE7VFmp333CWLyK0VUS3G9ZZ0WVWvT4W2BelSzyYv9NLY_1C22acdo3lUiWkW7H_YTpdqOhhoEy45M-CtPeytRfi9VG2/s1600/Final+Destination+5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>
<br />Just when I think that my existence sounds depressing enough on paper, I manage to push it just a <i>little</i> bit further. This weekend, <b>I deigned to see four films in the theater on one bright (and thunderous) day, and I succeeded. </b>A quadruple feature! It really loses its ring after "triple feature," I fear.<div>
<br /></div><div>The day started like any other. I clumsily smacked at my face in the morning to make sure it was still there; I looked out my un-curtained windows to see if others were stirring across the building (always a good measure of what time it is in the morning);<b> I yawned heavily, scooping any residual drool off my chin </b>-- and thought: "Wait, no work today! Wonder what time the first movie starts?!" (10:45 a.m.) The West Village likes old people, or those who eat and sleep like they're old (me).</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Now. Mama G wonders where she went wrong with me. Why, say, didn't I think -- let me go shopping! Or, I bet there's a great exhibit at _______. That Borders is going out of business, how 'bout some new books, Grice? Nope. Just movies. <b>Can't change what we are, I s'ppose.</b></div><div>
<br /></div><div>So, I saw: Final Destination 5 (yup); One Day (Nick Sparks knock-off); Harry Potter 77k (should've watched the last one again right before this one ... those names are so hard to keep up with); and, Clash By Night ('52 at Film Forum -- got to keep up with the hipsters).</div><div>
<br /></div><div><a href="http://finaldestinationmovie.warnerbros.com/">Final Destination 5</a>. Well, what can I say? <b>After I saw the flick, I went to Best Buy and bought the four preceding films; </b>I figured that if I were going to write anything about the movie, I might as well do my research since my knowledge had some gaping holes since my 16-year-old dreamy girl's crush on <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0195714/">Devon Sawa</a> in Final Destination (one), ca. 2000. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>In this latest iteration on the same take of the first film's premise, a bunch of young 20-somethings are headed off on a corporate retreat; once they reach the suspension bridge that holds their wilderness-bonding in its grips, our protag, Sam Lawton (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0194900/">Nicholas D'Agosto</a>) has a vision, err, a premonition, a feeling, a sense, a notion that something's off? Well, he sees the traveling bus toppling into the ether, his friends not spared by gut-splintering boat masts or neck-breaking falls -- all delightfully depicted on-screen. Perhaps it's his imagination. <b>We don't know! We haven't seen any Final Destinations before this one!</b></div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>I will say that this was the most enjoyable FD since the first one</b>; I actually almost wish I'd seen it in 3D - the opening credits, which consist of a series of shattered glass pieces, cigarette butts, pieces of trash, etc. lobbed at you, probably would have been neat - and, there was one set of projectile lower intestines that clearly would have looked cooler in 3D than on my thankless 2D eyes. </div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>The prize of the show was third-billed <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0279702/">Miles Fisher</a>, </b>who plays the business-jerk kid amongst his friends, Peter. He's the guy who slaps you on the back and says "Good job!" all the while telling your boss that you're a lout. It's not giving anything away to say that he sticks around for a good 95% of the movie (such is the formula for FD), but, his charm and ability to channel a multitude of personae is very apparent here. I'd dare say, he's one to watch. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Most people on the gods' green earth have seen <a href="http://youtu.be/6cPuaqGZGro">him here already</a> <b>as Patrick Bateman in American Psycho; or, here as Tom Cruise, the Crazy</b></div><div>
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<br /></div><div>And there's a newer installment of Mr. Fisher's inimitable charades: <b>Saved by the Bell, Final Destination-style. Here's "New Romance,"</b> a studio-funded track that let MF and cohorts kill each other in a very Final Destination-way, while acting out our favorite themes of SbtB. Very catchy.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>More on the yes-I-have-feelings, sigh. "One Day" later.</div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-74006512853536770032011-08-19T02:42:00.005-04:002011-08-19T04:02:11.130-04:00Double Feature: Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Conan the Barbarian<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.perezhilton.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/rise-of-the-planet-of-the-apes-friday-box-office__oPt.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 409px; height: 607px;" src="http://img.perezhilton.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/rise-of-the-planet-of-the-apes-friday-box-office__oPt.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<br />After about a week and a half of a most awful illness, my Friend took me to the Union Square cinema to celebrate my return to the world of the living. On the agenda were two films I'd had no real intention of seeing, certainly not at the cineplex for fourteen bucks a pop: <span style="font-weight: bold;">Rise of the Planet of the Apes </span>and, much (much!) more unfortunately,<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Conan the Barbarian.</span>
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<br /><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1318514/">Rise of the Planet of the Apes</a> features actor/oddball <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0290556/">James Franco </a>as the idealistic geneticist dead-set on beginning human trials for his Alzheimer's-curing drug, after it's proven to stimulate previously deteriorated parts of the brain in chimpanzees--or enhance healthy apes' brain power without <span style="font-style: italic;">any</span> side effects whatsoever. Of course, as with any movie miracle drug, we learn early on that there may be a few latent side effects after the star experimental chimp bursts into a board meeting, in which Franco is wooing greedy investors to green light the next stage of the drug's development.
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<br />After exterminating all remaining apes and closing down the trials, we find that a tiny baby chimp is still alive; Franco takes the little guy home, where he lives with his Alzheimer's-afflicted father (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001475/">John Lithgow</a>), names him Caesar, and begins to raise him as his intellectually accelerated son. Cute scenes ensue as Father Franco bonds with the baby and for a while, the three are a pretty happy, functional family unit. It's all relative.
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<br /><a href="http://s1.daemonsmovies.com/mov/up/2011/07/rise-of-the-planet-of-the-apes-movie-photo-09-e1311729286460-550x302.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 195px;" src="http://s1.daemonsmovies.com/mov/up/2011/07/rise-of-the-planet-of-the-apes-movie-photo-09-e1311729286460-550x302.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<br />The film wastes no time watching Caesar go through his nascent years, and we fly through the first three years, then five years, until the tyke is a ripe 8 years old--though, it's clear that ape-years are something equivalent to dog-years because Caesar is now at least an adolescent if not something of a testosterone-filled, volatile young man of his early 20s. He's beginning to ask questions (<span style="font-weight: bold;">he can sign words with Franco, of course</span>), he doesn't want to be treated as a pet, and he evinces some feelings of jealousy when Franco strikes up a relationship with the beautiful veterinarian, played by <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2951768/">Freida Pinto</a> of Slumdog Millionaire.
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<br />After a particularly egregious show of protectiveness, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Caesar lands himself in the ape pound</span> (a thinly veiled ape prison), where he faces bullying by the other apes (who don't like that he wears human clothes--how un-apelike!) and faces some torture at the hands of the ape-prison's sadistic floorwalker, played by <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0271657/">Tom Felton </a>(aka Draco Malfoy). And, then the movie follows its few storylines, incorporating the sentimental, the sad, the humorous, the somewhat scary, and, of course, the utter ridiculous.
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<br />I must say that my friend and I both giggled the moment we saw a stern-looking Mr. Franco in his white lab coat in the first minutes of the movie. While I think he is a fine--and at times, great--actor, I was unsure if I'd be able to take him seriously as a genius geneticist, albeit in a summer blockbuster about an ape revolution. But, after a while, I got used to Franco, that slight condescending smirk he typically wears replaced with a lot of furrowed brows and angst-ridden faces.
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<br />Though she doesn't say too much or steal too many love-romance scenes in the movie, I have always thought Freida Pinto is so gorgeous that it's almost distracting; she doesn't disappoint here.
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<br />And, the CGI was extremely impressive. I was very skeptical going into the film, imagining a bunch of apes whizzing around the trees a la <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0367882/">Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull</a> (admittedly Apes would be spared the ever-annoying presence of Shia LaBeouf); but, the scenes of apes scaling massive redwoods and flipping about were quite stunning. There is a scene of a score of the beasts swinging about the Golden Gate Bridge that is particularly pleasing to watch.
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<br />Though the film is ultimately choppy and sometimes a bit emotionally hollow, I had a great time and the movie made me want to sneak into the Bronx Zoo and free all the monkeys, or at least listen in on their conversations.
<br /><a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/conan_the_barbarian_2011/">
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Conan the Barbarian</span></a> was one of the worst movies I have seen in a long time. Period.
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Welcome back, blog!</span>
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<br />Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-91402869268570975302010-09-28T16:51:00.018-04:002011-01-07T15:39:13.214-05:00Guest Blogger Returns: Thoughts on "The American"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcPCoiqoxK5qAn-KisOovBLtHlFsTxSW1gQOs0gF8MOA2p-mX_ntO2H6nwaGpBz8isbQ-WiNsrX3RhFOsFvlt3VJczSLFiJiMPmdra4zS4onrDUVJXx_XJo9921WLMl6hAHNLTs7o12cq/s1600/american.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcPCoiqoxK5qAn-KisOovBLtHlFsTxSW1gQOs0gF8MOA2p-mX_ntO2H6nwaGpBz8isbQ-WiNsrX3RhFOsFvlt3VJczSLFiJiMPmdra4zS4onrDUVJXx_XJo9921WLMl6hAHNLTs7o12cq/s400/american.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522078588283431314" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">As the eight or so of you remember, <b>Papa Grice has had the mind to pass on to me some of </b><a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2010/05/guest-blogger-and-thoughts-on-utility.html"><b>his film reviews</b></a>; they're <b>better-written</b>, have a better historical take on film <i>v.</i> society, <b>considering he's old</b> [Happy recent birthday, again, Pops!], and are typically more viewed than my own. So, <b>he's sent me his take on "The American."</b></span></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Having seen this film a few weeks ago with a buddy of mine -- the two of us hoping that we'd appreciate the slow, dawdling nature of the film we'd both heard or read about -- I can say <b>I almost wholeheartedly agree with Dad Grice on this one. </b>It near-put me to sleep, and <b>I didn't like seeing Clooney's "chicken-wings"</b> -- as Pops puts it below -- enough to counterbalance<b> the lack of original story</b>.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I should say that when editing Pops' piece, <b>I took out a small rant about Clooney's politics</b> -- in short, my dad thinks his (Clooney's) Leftist inclinations cloud his film choices (to put it nicely). <b>He didn't like "Men Who Stare at Goats," </b>and he thought <b>"Up in the Air" was overrated (as did I)</b> -- soooo, I think that about covers it. :-D There has to be something left to argue about over Christmas.</span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">On to the soapbox!</span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">-----------------------------------------</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">In most of our pedantic pasts there exists a <b>Big Book of Storytelling, planted over time</b>. Be it by a series of English teachers or, simply, <b>the intuit influence of common sense</b> – likely a combination of both -- we learn from it what makes a good story. </span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It speaks to such things as "character development," "protagonists," "antagonists"; "plot development"; "conclusion." All things lead to </span></span></span></span></span><em><span><i><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">caring</span></span></span></i></span></em><em><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></span></em><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">about the characters, discerning a </span></span></span></span></span><span><i><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">coherent</span></span></span></i></span><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> plot and, wonder of wonders, <b>having a scintilla of </b></span></span></span></span></span><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>interest</b></span></span></i></span><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b> and desire to know how to goad attention</b>. </span></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>“</b></span></span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>The American” director Anton Corbijn</b> must have missed those lessons. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"The American" starts nebulously with our hero and hit-man, <b>Jack (George Clooney)</b>, engendering some real goodwill with us viewers <b>as he shoots what </b></span></span></span></span></span><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>appears</b></span></span></span></em><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><b> </b></i><b>to be</b>, as we are later tangentially made aware (kind of), <b>a love interest in the head </b>in some snowy, Siberian-esque landscape. Such is his need for remaining surreptitious as a couple of faceless thugs lay waiting to ambush. This leads to his escape into the wilds of Olde Italy, as Jack's wary of a double cross, </span></span></span></span></span><em><span><i><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">possibly</span></span></span></i></span></em><em><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, </span></span></span></span></span></em><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">for wanting “out”?</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This theme, <b>that of putting together a box of parts with directions written by an English as-a-fourth-language writer, becomes clear early on</b>. [Editor's note: Perhaps this is why the movie is so conspicuously devoid of dialogue?] Jack makes some attempt at hiding, though not really...again, it would </span></span></span></span></span><em><span><i><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">appear?</span></span></span></i></span></em><em><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></span></em><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Huge amounts of <b>slow, </b></span></span></span></span></span><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>slow</b></span></span></i></span><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b> moving footage intertwines all</b> and, adding insult to injury, it isn't even set in an attractive part of Italy, so our scenic cinematography is lost on one vacant-seeming village upon another.</span></span><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ChQB0vpCQWw?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ChQB0vpCQWw?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></span></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In watching the unfolding of <b>one half-baked subplot after another</b> – say, the footsy played with Jack's compadre hitwoman Mathilde (Thekla Reuten); <b>a tangential brush with spirituality</b> (?) via the start of a never-shaken-out relationship with the town's Good Father (Paolo Bonadelli) and his illegitimate son; the pursuit of those from Jack's last job now resulting in a shift to <b>Jack-as-target based on </b></span></span></span></span></span><em><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>probably</b></span></span></i></span></em><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b> </b></span></span></i></span><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>some good reason (that we're unaware of)</b>; Jack's noticing a “rare” butterfly, I guess, in shorthand to demonstrate his “sensitivity” -- we hope these ever-slow sideshows coalesce into the semblance of order and sense.</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"><b>Alas, they do not.</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">One point that is finally made clear is that Jack wants out of his line of business.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">This awakens our sensibilities like an alarm clock via the <b>strangely, awkwardly juxtaposed red-hot love scene with local prostitute Clara (Violante Placido)</b>, with whom Jack has been dramatically smitten; he has found an urgency for his escape <b>(this movie, clearly, could have used more Clara-facation)</b>. [Editor's note: “Zing!” And/or, “Gross,” if taken the wrong way.]</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">Without spoiling the end, Sensitive Jack, now with two feminine notches on his gun, and that rare, annoyingly symbolic butterfly, are faintly shown in the final scene to be sadly sympatico. </span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"><b>At least that is what I think I saw.</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">I was left with a couple of overriding observations.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>George shows off his physique via push- and pull-ups, reminding me of the newly arrived football season</b> – unfortunately not for muscley appearance, but because of the <b>chicken wings</b>. [Editor's “Zing!”] Body-double time approachin', Georgie. </span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">George further cements his cinematic image as lady killer (though, also literally), seemingly to set him sail for James-Bond land. While this isn't all bad, I would hope he finds more introspective and/or eclectic roles where he can better utilize his gifts.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">Finally, <b>could the book upon which this is based possibly have been as bereft of essential story elements as was reflected here? </b>Or, was the problem with the scriptwriting and direction?? It really should not have been difficult to spot the <b>lack of coherence/dissonance.</b> Next time, at the very least, Anton should send his scripts over to the local high school creative writing club for a second opinion before unfurling <b>such a mess.</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">--------------------------------------------------------</span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I received a text message from Dear Old Dad, saying that he "Wanted to add that <b>it wasn't a total loss.</b> It did spawn a saving system of sorts. </span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>I would give it 2 "dry heaves": Wretched, but sans substance.</b></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">--------------------------------------------------------</span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Editor's post-post-note, I should say that I doubt Papa G has seen Corbijn's awesome "Control," which is why I went into "The American" wanting more than I got. Know what to get Dad for Christmas, just to settle the Corbijn CV.</span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7c2_B_cWK_M?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7c2_B_cWK_M?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></p>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-70360007425651435692010-09-26T12:45:00.013-04:002010-09-26T16:37:30.101-04:00Breaking the Bloggle Hiatus and Remembering Paul Newman Two Years Later<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKySmgVIkoggO8nLyPYAUHaYxely6p3nMs2t6N_Eo1MlUfMWGJAGUDXBAdvkb2zcx7FRecOqe_-haZcLUWftiYY_mdVsJg3JyeK1-tmyMN-xyhNKX9Bbby01S_3CjXgAGTzUsvqSsXD-NV/s1600/paul.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKySmgVIkoggO8nLyPYAUHaYxely6p3nMs2t6N_Eo1MlUfMWGJAGUDXBAdvkb2zcx7FRecOqe_-haZcLUWftiYY_mdVsJg3JyeK1-tmyMN-xyhNKX9Bbby01S_3CjXgAGTzUsvqSsXD-NV/s400/paul.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521282649128031490" /></a><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">When I awoke this morning, I had a most unusual feeling -- one I hadn't felt in months: </span></span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I really want to write today</span></span></b></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. </span></span></b><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Considering my </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">short stories from the past few years have all but fallen by the wayside</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, as I sink ever quickly into the acknowledgment that I may never be a </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">real</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> writer, I figured that maybe I'd </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">unlock the old bloggle</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> and toss some words out into the Interwebs. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But, still, it was curious that I had such a hankering. I've been seeing more movies than ever lately; the past couple of movie weekends have included triple features. </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">First, there was "Machete," "Scott Pilgrim vs. The World," and "The American."</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Then, </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"The Town," "Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps," and "Easy A"</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> (couldn't help myself on the last one). </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And, a couple weeks ago, </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I wrote a </span></span></b><a href="http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2010-09-03/drew-barrymore-canoodles-with-grunt-broadway-s-hustling-prince-movies.html"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">few film reviews for Bloomberg</span></span></b></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, my old </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">favorite</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> place of employment. Yet, while I had -- as always -- much to say about the films, I thought maybe I'd </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">outgrown the little bloggle</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> (several of my jerk friends would be relieved!).</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As I sat down to tip-tap away about how </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">amazing Danny Trejo is in "Machete"</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> and how I relished director </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robert Rodriguez'</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">s racist treatment of my people (The Mexicans) -- and treatment of my other people as trigger-happy racists (The Texans); or, how disappointed I was with </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">George Clooney</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> for making me want to stick toothpicks in my eyes to stay awake during </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"The American"</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">; or, how </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">overrated "The Town"</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> is, just as </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Gone Baby Gone"</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> (Affleck's directorial debut) was three years ago -- my </span></span><a href="http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2010-09-22/mangeoire-s-120-bouillabaise-mocks-french-riviera-ryan-sutton.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Favorite Food Critic</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> signed on and reminded me what today is.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today is the second anniversary of Paul Newman's death</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. Crestfallen.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'd been thinking about this day all month, ever since I visited a friend in Westport, CT for a few days, where Paul Newman lived until his death. As we drove from the train station to my friend's home, he pointed out the window through the trees to the </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Westport Country Playhouse</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, where Newman's wife Joanne Woodward was artistic director and where Newman himself was part-owner of the restaurant next door. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It took a dozen swallows to loosen the knot in my throat.</span></span></b></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GHf7TD4qwjk?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GHf7TD4qwjk?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But, somehow</span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> I'd forgotten the significance of today </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">this morning, or how I felt two years ago when Brother G called to tell me the news. I was in such a sad place at the time</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">, that the blow of my One True Idol dying made me more depressed than I'd have imagined.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">From the </span></span><a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2008/09/paul-newman-died-i-already-talked-to.html"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">morning of Paul Newman's death</span></span></b></a><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: </span></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Now. I’m wiping the sleep away from my beady eyes and jolt upright in shock. My lips start to quiver, my jaw starts trembling – and it happened. I cried thankless, shameless tears as I sat there on my little air mattress in my new room (which is finally coming together, by the way).<br /><br />I’ve joked a thousand times about how I’d cry when PN died. I </span></span><a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2008/09/paul-newman-and-upset-google-can-cause.html" style="color: rgb(85, 136, 170); text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">wrote</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> about it on this silly bloggle (and jinxed it? Believe you me, that was the first reaction I had … Hell hath a place for me now, I’m sure) but I didn’t think I actually would workout the old tear ducts, like some </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kqmOrI26K0" style="color: rgb(85, 136, 170); text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">love-stricken fan</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> who wanted to impale themselves after the loss of a Beatle.<br /><br />It takes some pretty heavy things to make me cry; and it just made me realize how much I really did, and do, admire PN – everything from his early career and movie choices, to his lifestyle, and – perhaps most selfishly – how handsome and righteous his roles most often were. He will be an everlasting love.</span></span></blockquote></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Thankfully, I'm much happier than I was two years ago, but as my all-time favorite </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Cool Hand Luke"</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> plays in the background -- the beloved scene where Dragline beats poor Paul into a pulp, but he won't stay down ... because he's Luke -- I'm sure I'll cry a few quiet tears throughout the afternoon.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8n0mgkaEGQc?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8n0mgkaEGQc?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And, for anyone interested, </span></span><a href="http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2008/09/you_wild_beautiful_thing_you_c.html"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Roger Ebert's article on Newman</span></span></b></a><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> is amazing</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. Upon reflecting on his obituary, Ebert writes: </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I never really thought of him as an actor. I regarded him more as an embodiment, an evocation, of something. And I think that something was himself. He seemed above all a deeply good man, who freed himself to live life fully and joyfully, and used his success as a way to follow his own path, and to help others.</span></span></div></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And, of his third meeting with Newman, he writes:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"></span></span><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Never mind what happened in 1969. I'll dig up the old magazine and put it on the web site. Let's move forward to 1995, and listen very carefully. When I walked into his room, he said, "Aw...it's you again." The point is </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">not</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> that he remembered me. The point is how he said "aw..." Imagine it in Paul Newman's voice. It evoked feelings hard to express in words. The "aw" wasn't "oh, no," as it sometimes can be. To me it translated as, "Aw, it's that scared kid, grown up." Whatever it meant, it put me right at home.</span></span></blockquote></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Oh, no, the tears. At least it gave me a reason to write. Silver-linings.</span></span></div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-46349779508907723052010-06-20T06:14:00.002-04:002010-06-26T08:54:59.129-04:00"You Don't Know Jack [Kevorkian]" ... HBO, You're Genius.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blog.mlive.com/entertainment/detroit_impact/2009/07/large_090709-al-pacino-jack-kevorkian.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 453px; height: 307px;" src="http://blog.mlive.com/entertainment/detroit_impact/2009/07/large_090709-al-pacino-jack-kevorkian.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I thought I should put out a few words about<b> "You Don't Know Jack," </b>the new (well, April, "new") HBO-released movie about<b> Dr. Kevorkian.</b> It's got several actors we all know and love, playing out a debate that is near and dear to my heart.<div><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/suOl27sWwKE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/suOl27sWwKE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /></div><div><div>It's a biopic about <b>"Doctor Death,"</b> starring Al Pacino as Kevorkian, Susan Sarandon as real-life Janet Good, a trusted, <b>integral participant in the aiding of right-to-die medical lawsuits back in the 1980s-90s</b>, and John Goodman and Brenda Vaccaro as Kevorkian's right-hand men in the video-taping and documenting of assisting suicides to patients who had no will to live. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>By many accounts, people have the right to be put out of their suffering</b>, so long as they are cognizant and, actually, suffering; Kevorkian has always been played out in the media as a masked-murderer cloaked in doctor's garb.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the end of the movie, and after endless chats with Mama G on the issue, jury's out? Which, <b>for this type of film, is interesting and successful.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>It's rare that I take movies <i><b>actually</b></i><b> seriously.</b></div><div><br /></div><div><b></b>I mean, my favorites involve <b>gunmen having showdowns, gangsters being awesome, spies stealing intel, vigilantes (the real favorite!) wreaking revenge </b>on any and all who deserve it...or Tom Hanks falling in love with ladies I'd like to be (embarrassing, but true). </div><div><br /></div><div>In short, I run the gamut, in terms of taste ... but <b>I always just love </b><i><b>tales</b></i>, not the idea we should really think of the parables with regards to our own lives.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sadly, in this life, I doubt I'll ever own a gun, be a gangster (sigh), be a spy (bigger sigh), go vigilante on someone (biggest sigh) and ... love's for the birds (no sigh needed, there).</div><div><br /></div><div>But, this film really got to me. <i><b>Got</b></i><b> to me.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I grew up in a family of <b>rational scientists, healthcare professionals, cynics, agnostics</b> -- some <b>crazier</b> than others, sure -- but ... it was formative. No one liked that I graduated with a lib-arts degree, but everyone cheered when I started working at Popular Science, even as a grunt.</div><div><br /></div><div>And, I grew up with a Mama G who has always told me: "<b>Morgie, when I'm old and sick ... you just pull the plug. Pull it."</b> -- she's seen too much in her 30-some-odd years of helping the sick and decrepit to imagine herself being kept alive for the sake of her kids not wanting to see her pass. </div><div><br /></div><div>I always respond: <b>"In yo' dreeeeeams! </b>I couldn't do that ... you don't have enough dollars to leave me for me to let you go and not be able to gossip with you! Even if you're just laying there, <b>I can still chat </b><i><b>at</b></i><b> you."</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I kid, kind of. But the principle of believing that, in theory, you should relieve someone of their insufferable pain by telling them how to "go," painlessly -- which can be argued is part of a doctor's duties -- it's quite unthinkable to think about doing to a loved one unless you're in that situation.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The film really makes you think</b> -- you watch how Kevorkian's ego, his pride, his honest-to-the-gods belief in progressing medical-history informs his logic; how he challenges current medical practices in the name of ushering in a transformative period of medical assistance against odds.</div><div><br /></div><div>To me, it was pretty eye-opening.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, when I discussed it, again, for two hours with Mama G, she said: <b>"Well, now, sheesh, I'll have to watch it</b>; don't go pulling the plug on me too soon!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Never, and mission accomplished on the movie front!<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div></div><div><br /></div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-18247022679798993652010-06-13T05:14:00.006-04:002010-06-25T18:34:07.111-04:00Cyrus: "I Will Knock You Out."<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.impawards.com/2010/posters/cyrus.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 505px; height: 755px;" src="http://www.impawards.com/2010/posters/cyrus.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">A couple weeks ago, I dragged an old Favorite Friend of mine from school out to Crooklyn to the New York premiere of <b>"Cyrus," the new film starring Marisa Tomei, John C. Reilly, Catherine Keener and the ubiquitous Jonah Hill.</b></div><div><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mbdNSCQ-qHI&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mbdNSCQ-qHI&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Tomei and Reilly, Brooklyn natives, were<b> introducing the film at the opening of the </b><a href="http://bam.org/view.aspx?pid=1193"><b>BAMcinemaFest</b></a>; post-viewing, they were to be mingling in the crowd with us plebes, where beer and scotch sponsors gave us all free drinks and hot dogs and sugar-coated peanuts. </div><div><br /></div><div>There were so many hipsters there that I think <b>my bud and I were the only two who had circulation to our feet.</b></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://re1000.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/hipster1.jpg"><img src="http://re1000.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/hipster1.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b>It was awesome.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>A <a href="http://www.popsci.com/science/article/2010-06/offshore-operations-crossing-atlantic-pursuit-stem-cells">PopSci</a> colleague gave me the tickets after he heard me chewing the fat about how much I wanted to see the film, and how <b>I'd likely die if I ever saw Marisa Tomei in person</b> -- the tickets were very much appreciated.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure we've all seen the <b>trailer for </b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbdNSCQ-qHI"><b>Cyrus</b></a><b> </b>by now, and the premise is pretty original. I'd been waiting months to see Hill play Tomei's son (not to be impolite, but ... such a spawning could never happen, I'd dare to say), and <b>John C. has been a favorite for years</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Reilly plays the Loserville guy, John, who meets the woman of his dreams, Molly (Tomei)</b>. Suddenly, he's rapt by love, his life is going to go somewhere, he's head over heels.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>There's Cyrus (Hill)</b>, and he's rather Hell-bent on his Oedipal Complex; he's not too keen on having the likes of some guy moving in on his mother.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Catherine Keener plays Reilly's ex-wife</b>, Jamie, in a weirdly amicable divorced situation - she champions Reilly to plug on after Tomei, and if you can suspend reality enough (or just wish that it was always that peachy), they have an endearing relationship that helps you root along Reilly/Tomei.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Jonah Hill is hilarious, </b>as always, in his weirdo persona as a 21-year-old son who's too protective of his hot mother; Tomei is just ... breathtakingly gorgeous as always, and endearing to boot; and, <b>we always root for John C. because -- he's got a root-for face.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I really loved the movie -- kooky, weird, unbelievable, sure ... but, fun.<br /><br /></div><div><b>I leave you with a favorite Tomei scene from "My Cousin Vinny."</b></div><div><b><br /></b><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y-L_bJAJA-E&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y-L_bJAJA-E&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-1351441038012446052010-06-11T13:51:00.006-04:002010-06-12T19:20:36.520-04:00"Splice": Oh, What You Could Have Been.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.scifimoviepage.com/upcoming/photos/splice/splice-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 466px;" src="http://www.scifimoviepage.com/upcoming/photos/splice/splice-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br />Oh,<span style="font-weight: bold;"> "Splice," </span>what you could have been.<br /><br />I <b>saw this sci-fi flick Opening Night, last Friday</b>. Because I am an unabashed watcher of MTV, I'd seen the Splice trailer some 17,000 times while watching a <a href="http://www.mtv.com/shows/truelife/series.jhtml">"True Life"</a> marathon the previous Saturday (some really sick phenomena take place on that wonder of a show -- kind of <b>makes you feel better about your own dysfunctions, such as watching "True Life" </b>for hours on end when the sun is out and shining.)<br /><br /><b>I was quite floored about the movie</b> -- I figured it would be a schlock-filled horror/thriller film that'd make me cringe at puss and goo, while telling a good story about corporate n'er-do-wells, trying to stymie some important genetic research - a pet issue of mine.<br /><br /><b>Buddy, was I wrong.<br /></b><br />Adrien Brody stars as Clive Nicoli, <b>an egotistical geneticist</b> who's been (somewhat) successful at breeding blobs of gooey <b>flesh via multi-hybrid animal DNA</b>. The blobs are supposed to be critical to solving livestock health issues, amongst sundry other vague health conditions of science-fiction lore.<br /><br />Clive and love-interest partner Elsa Kast <b>(Sarah Polley, notable in "</b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0139239/"><b>Go</b></a><b>" and for writing/directing "</b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0491747/"><b>Away From Her</b></a><b>")</b>, who is also a NERD -- that's <i>actually</i> the acronym for the corporation they work for, and fitting for her geeked out character -- decide to take matters into their own hands when the higher-ups dictate that <b>the two are not allowed to mix in a few human ova into their animal genetic mix.</b><br /><br />This, after one of their blobs explodes on stage after a press conference,<b> spurting out goo-junk onto all the </b><a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-june-7-2010/thank-you--south-carolina---the-race-to-replace-disgrace"><b>Helen Thomas's</b></a><b> in the science world.</b> Perhaps the old NERD higher-ups considered liability or, oh, ethics, when they decided not to let these two make an animal-human hybrid.<br /><br />What results is "Dren" (NERD spelled backwards) - <b>a hilariously conceived part-human that has the legs of a horse, wings of a ... dragon? ... a pointy tongue, fish lungs, a weird crevice in the skin that runs down the symmetrical vertical of her face </b>-- and some G.D. crazy incestuous plot lines that make you want to hug your knees to your chest, even though you're laughing at the ridiculousness of it all at the same time.<br /><br />I will say that I was entertained; much like everyone in the audience, I was chuckling at each and every new horrible plot twist. When we find that Dren is aging like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0421715/">Benjamin Button</a>, my only question was: <b>Does this mean the movie ends sooner? One can only wish.</b><br /><div><br /></div><div>I ruin nothing in talking about the plot, because - the moment these guys get on screen, the stilted acting, the early twists, the ... everything ... spells the movie out before it even gets going. Director <b>Natali does, however, drop in a couple last-minute twists that are hard-to-bear and not fit even for <i>this</i> genre.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I'll keep those to myself, though.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next up, "Cyrus," (awesome) and "The Karate Kid" (mini-Fresh Prince is so great).</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZv1-Xr5gVTLJd9Kfy4XP3X7NsK0F3Fx8Vs_Vra5NHlGTm1kE2y-bEFNUeyJKyyV4oBK2H47lMc9r3_ehgLysmp6b0MHCzy26bFwW94sJYdqSzE9NW90P4PrZVWnTaInpHwR6wI_MR3lJo/s1600/smiths.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZv1-Xr5gVTLJd9Kfy4XP3X7NsK0F3Fx8Vs_Vra5NHlGTm1kE2y-bEFNUeyJKyyV4oBK2H47lMc9r3_ehgLysmp6b0MHCzy26bFwW94sJYdqSzE9NW90P4PrZVWnTaInpHwR6wI_MR3lJo/s400/smiths.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482029491190099170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-58125279109219570902010-05-21T08:23:00.018-04:002010-06-26T06:31:16.200-04:00City Island and Misconceptions on North v. South<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://caffeine-headache.net/blog3/poster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 444px;" src="http://caffeine-headache.net/blog3/poster.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#551A8B;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">This week, <b>one of my best Dude Friends from high school has been hanging his hat with me</b> in Crooklyn. He's done with his fourth semester at grad school (a <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/poet">Syracuse poet</a>, la-dee-da), so he ambled on down to my neck of the woods to keep me company and visit our other jerk high school friend who's just graduated law school.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2hEh8XqUNQyfnRMc7OONO5XaA4KdZAJyOMQXLEbAwb3GemfULLuhdkezkhB6tzIsd9ycmEOfQ2_KFv_IfM9klikBW4sgCpbsgZIGU1dhU8drQv9npNtLjh7e4WNXVTZHenMFFbCtmD0G/s1600/high+schol.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2hEh8XqUNQyfnRMc7OONO5XaA4KdZAJyOMQXLEbAwb3GemfULLuhdkezkhB6tzIsd9ycmEOfQ2_KFv_IfM9klikBW4sgCpbsgZIGU1dhU8drQv9npNtLjh7e4WNXVTZHenMFFbCtmD0G/s400/high+schol.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473711543795512066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 332px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Other Jerk" High School Friend, Rusty, Me, Ashlee, Carmen, Jaclyn, Cheryl Crabb ;-)</span></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2hEh8XqUNQyfnRMc7OONO5XaA4KdZAJyOMQXLEbAwb3GemfULLuhdkezkhB6tzIsd9ycmEOfQ2_KFv_IfM9klikBW4sgCpbsgZIGU1dhU8drQv9npNtLjh7e4WNXVTZHenMFFbCtmD0G/s1600/high+schol.jpg"></a><div><br /></div><div>(When I look in the mirror, all I see is: <b>Underachiever.</b>) <div><br /></div><div>When we three buds are hanging out with our Northern friends, I think we feel remiss if we don't talk about the <b>greatness of the South</b>. Somehow, every conversation comes back to the <b>wonders of Texas</b>, even though we have no plans of living back there any time real soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>Food? We speak of Southern specialties, and bask in our ability to tell the difference between good Tex-Mex and, well, pitiful Northern knock-offs.<b> We've got a hold on all good music and writers, too. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>As much as we three'll gossip til everyone in the room's ears are ringing, we've also got the <b>sweetest Southern hearts </b>(ahem); too bad <i>you</i> [Northerner] weren't lucky enough to grow up with the cows, spending every weekend trying to figure out how to have a guilt-free amount of fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, it goes. And, I'm sure <b>we're insufferable</b>. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I guess the <b>Northern-folk do have </b><b>some</b><b> pride</b>, as well. And, after I saw "City Island" a few weeks ago, I realized that while I've lived in New York for all-too-long now, when someone makes a movie about a fictional place nearabouts where you grew up, no matter if it's North or South, we all have loyalties. If you feel a movie slights you and your community, you might take umbrage. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601099&sid=aNv7KMhRWEy4&refer=dine">Food Critic</a> thought "City Island" encapsulated much too many stereotypes of Long Island culture to whet his palate. </div><div><div><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1V8ldV0jSdY&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1V8ldV0jSdY&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I thought City Island was pretty great; after I saw it, <b>I called Mama G/Brother G to tell them to get to the nearest theater because they'd surely appreciate the film</b>. It was on limited release at the time, so there's the (one-and-only) knock against the South, but I gave them the gist of the movie.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Andy Garcia</b> plays Vince Rizzo, a corrections officer (he reminds us of the titular distinction between "corrections officer" and "prison guard," or, I don't know, "clink manager" multiple times) during the day, an aspiring actor by night. <b>Julianna Margulies</b> plays Vince's suspicious wife, Joyce. And, for a former "ER" devotee (ca. 1994), it was nice to see her on the big screen.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Emily Mortimer</b> plays Molly, a lady who's in Vince's acting class -- and, she's really sweet as can be and <b>it was comforting that her friendship with Vince doesn't lapse into a typical philandering affair </b>(because I don't like feelings). Rather, the joke falls more on the Vince/Joyce relationship--they have a tightly-knit family (dysfunctional, of course, but still close) yet Vince is too embarrassed to tell his wife that he's taking acting classes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Their son, <b>Ezra Miller</b> (of TV's "Californication," "Royal Pains"), is endearing in his horrible awkwardness; his best line, with regards to his infatuation with obese young ladies, pertains to wanting to feed his next-door Love donuts. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.elle.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/elle/fashion/street-chic/street-chic-tribeca-film-festival/04-ezramiller/3436895-5-eng-US/04-EzraMiller.jpg"><img src="http://www.elle.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/elle/fashion/street-chic/street-chic-tribeca-film-festival/04-ezramiller/3436895-5-eng-US/04-EzraMiller.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 410px; height: 513px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Ezra, "Donuts," Miller</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I don't normally chuckle at those scenes, but in this case, it was out-of-the-blue and the chuckles were certainly warranted.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The film really spins a good little tale about family dysfunction that dissuades you from being cynical, yet lets you sigh in relief about your own familial troubles.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>While on the job in the jailhouse, Vince discovers a son whose whereabouts were a mystery; he brings him home, and that beauty of an actor (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1711829/">Steven Strait</a>, or Tony Nardella in the film) is someone who'll--crossing my toes--be gracing my dreams in some fictional future.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought the movie was pithy, cute, dysfunctional (<i>not</i> in a "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1234654/">Greenberg</a>" way) and overall "real."</div><div><br /></div><div>That said, if I were from the NY-area, I might feel how I felt when "Varsity Blues" came out, years ago. That is, I might feel that they got the whole story wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, for me, [Northern family-dynamics] <b>ignorance is bliss</b>.</div></div></div></div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-50999369841691394262010-05-13T16:14:00.014-04:002010-05-15T21:19:28.118-04:00Guest Blogger, and Thoughts on the Utility of Bad Directors<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_O-haVHr2Vv5sZcXGT22WS5cD-EwvPqFgLdKDjJefi7zGOWY3MdkwWzfmyTtYQqyZMysUzfWr2zM_2JA1I-UXiWB7o4P3UAXhfGkCjfmrRSKcCB9nejvsJXLG8z1vIHGqTWAyS-2Lfm_t/s1600/jc.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_O-haVHr2Vv5sZcXGT22WS5cD-EwvPqFgLdKDjJefi7zGOWY3MdkwWzfmyTtYQqyZMysUzfWr2zM_2JA1I-UXiWB7o4P3UAXhfGkCjfmrRSKcCB9nejvsJXLG8z1vIHGqTWAyS-2Lfm_t/s320/jc.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470856067232088530" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Young James Cameron, trying to put a choke-hold on himself</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.infoaddict.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/james-cameron-king-of-the-world1.jpg"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Papa Grice e-mailed this morning. </b>I sighed, readying myself for whatever political debate he was trying to trick me into (ahem). But, no! <b>Pops G </b><i><b>bloggled</b></i><b> into my inbox</b>, Slice of Grice-style. Having just recently seen "<b>Avatar,</b>" he needed to get some things off his chest.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I was almost as <b>appalled by the fact he was </b><i><b>just </b></i><b>seeing Avatar </b>as I was by the movie itself. This, from a guy who sees almost as many movies a week as I do. But, I forgive, just won't forget. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He had some <b>musings on Cameron</b>, his oeuvre (cough), and the appreciation gained from suffering through bad directors. On to the <b>soapbox</b>! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.infoaddict.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/james-cameron-king-of-the-world1.jpg"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">-------------------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>That <b>James Cameron. The man with the Midas Touch</b>, his alchemy this time turning mere straw into wood—much as with Titantic, where an ordinary seashell was turned into granite. While I think he was aiming for gold, both resulted in something far less, far more forgettable and far more uninspiring.<br /><br />Though, if the end desire is huge monetary largesse, the products were both diamonds.<br /><br />Once you have arrived into the rareified climes that he has reached, I would think that you desire more—<b>to leave a true imprint that will make you happy in your very old age</b>. It should be that feeling that <b>Hitchcock, Scorcese, William Wyler (Funny Girl, Ben Hur) must have—or, have had.</b> But Cameron seems to either be bereft of the potential to stir up new ground or just satisfied with the tweaking, albeit with huge bells and whistles, of old, banal themes.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9p7AQa-vyBpoXXn8nbgSJxY0OAD4-kGG-waLPD9vZxH06K0vQPWs72nPH04Da4FWvP-kNEwiZ7bxINa0GNrE61tu1ySv0jEf6A3TwpZNKM1ChrM945nhARiRMgYQ8r_zS2E5qt5GIsGd9/s400/Dad+Blog3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470970022182136018" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 132px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Alfred Hitchcock, Martin Scorsese, William Wyler ... James "Unworthy" Cameron</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><br /><b>I felt like I was back in the roaring 70's</b>, where the big, bad, heartless, misanthropic corporation discarded all that represents real life in <b>its scorched earth march towards a higher EPS</b> (earnings per share) [Editor's note: "Yeah, I know, <i>Dad</i>."]. It seems futile to keep alive the delusion of a runaway, new industrial state that, unfortunately, does seem to dovetail with the Left's lean that has become pervasive--though rapidly unclothed. [Editor's note, "Boo."]<br /><br />Be that as it may, the insipid, <b>banal theme did provide an easily-understood </b>and, hence, an oft-sold package that has satisfied the masses. With the inclusion of very special, special effects, it was a doozie that had the <b>American Idol mentality all aglow</b>. The formulaic love-hate-love pattern of the designated Love Situation was equally uninspired. <b>The device of duality in time was a tweak on, and on loan from, Terminator et al</b>, but did make for a slight bit of <b>intrigue</b>.<br /><br />But overall, <b>this movie was a yawner</b>, one that made me so appreciate the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Merchant_Ivory_Productions">Merchant-Ivory's</a> and those who <b>spin great stories that inspire</b>. It is similar to the glitzy, easy-patterned top 40 songs of the past which just do not have the “stuff” that makes them “stick to the ribs.” Instead of shooting for "Dizzy"—though it makes you rich— why not aim higher?<br /><br /><b>Cameron has shown no real spark that would lead one to imagine such a thing, ala the Coen's or Tarantino</b>, so I expect his bag’s to remain full, getting fuller, as he feeds the dumbed-down masses more of his forgettable fodder.<br /><b><br />So as this uninspired trickery will serve as a good contrast and base to judge the more unforgettable directors, this too has its value.</b><br /></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">-------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Amen, Pops.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXcX-VTT_sxJjn5iWROJ0P2yZhM1hhEpt6IMiGC7YX4gqhF0S__M1Ep47Mx1J7BdUlEXoKai92PMj_RrTdSvoxEg1jpGuJslstFouroRIBihHi7GPNaqY3xdf1ofIvNEtNZ4cXKE0mvnq/s1600/for+facebook.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXcX-VTT_sxJjn5iWROJ0P2yZhM1hhEpt6IMiGC7YX4gqhF0S__M1Ep47Mx1J7BdUlEXoKai92PMj_RrTdSvoxEg1jpGuJslstFouroRIBihHi7GPNaqY3xdf1ofIvNEtNZ4cXKE0mvnq/s400/for+facebook.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471670478430568882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 279px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Mama G, Brother G, Papa G, Me.</span></div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-53223309703371535502010-05-11T19:40:00.020-04:002010-05-12T15:13:25.186-04:00Iron Man 2 and the Power of Charm<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZaGMQStExflB8bajlBMsME8ozW6gsDoJFu1fTSEImu-LIvqc3t4fRQ4gDGVunNm5rlnCyHK8GIVqDgRyVDdjpppTZ8hBM3m4ApN65M1B83_EpcgJOtyWv8rHv8XGoGSqrIMgwvLpNFXF/s1600/iron+man.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZaGMQStExflB8bajlBMsME8ozW6gsDoJFu1fTSEImu-LIvqc3t4fRQ4gDGVunNm5rlnCyHK8GIVqDgRyVDdjpppTZ8hBM3m4ApN65M1B83_EpcgJOtyWv8rHv8XGoGSqrIMgwvLpNFXF/s400/iron+man.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470277350541915730" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></u></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Ever since I worked on a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><a href="http://www.popsci.com/technology/article/2010-05/new-software-can-assemble-army-overnight-making-human-bosses-obsolete">PopSci piece </a> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">about </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the making of the new Iron Man 2 suit</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> (that doesn't link to the article, but the linked article has such a dreamy headline), I'd been </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">waiting anxiously for May 7 to arrive</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. When friends or strangers wondered aloud when the film was coming out, I'd snap "May 7th!" often without even looking up. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Then I'd sigh, audibly, and think to myself "God, what </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">dolts</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">!" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Sometimes I forget that people have other things to think about.<br /><br />So, bright and early Saturday, </span></span><b><a href="http://preview.bloomberg.com/news/2010-05-12/eco-hip-abc-kitchen-s-more-cardboard-gray-than-green-food-buzz.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Food Critic</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> and I skipped on over to the Kip's Bay</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> theater for some awesome afternoon movie action, in the front row of the IMAX theater, no less.<br /><br />Was all that </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">anticipation energy well spent? Correct, sir.</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /><b>My love for Robert Downey Jr.</b>, as Tony Stark/Iron Man, marches on; <b>Mickey Rourke</b>, as Ivan Vanko/Whiplash -- who I was told is <b>"one of The Ugliest Men"</b> my friend has ever seen in person (ouch.) -- with his betattooed body, speaking in a scary-sounding Russian tongue while wielding electric whips, joins the long list of people I'd like to be </span></span><a href="http://z.about.com/d/tvdramas/1/0/I/l/justified.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">in my next life</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Scarlett Johansson</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, as sexy Natalie/Black Widow, </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">had remarkably few lines</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, so I had little to cringe at (she also proved that she can pull off some really awesome martial arts, roundhouse-flipping-wall-climbing fight scenes); </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Gwyneth, returning as Pepper Potts</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> and the new head of Stark Enterprises, </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">was, well, annoying</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, but she </span></span><a href="http://goop.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">always is</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, so what's director </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0PUrNwvvBk"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">John Favreau</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> supposed to do?</span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 26, 139);"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></u></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><a href="http://www.shockya.com/news/wp-content/uploads/iron_man_2_scarlet_black_widow1.jpg"></a></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Oh, and Sam Rockwell. Rockwell was </span></span></b><span style="font-style: italic;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">brilliant</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">-- and briliantly cast -- as Justin Hammer, the wonderfully sleazy weapons maker who smells opportunity now that old </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Tony Stark (swoon) is off promoting peace <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">and trying to survive his curious health condition caused by his suit</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. Honestly, <b>Rockwell's ability to channel sleaze is rivaled only by Gary Oldman.</b><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Oldman in "The Professional"</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /><br /></span></span><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MrTsuvykUZk&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MrTsuvykUZk&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As the film opens, Stark walks out onto a stage in front of roaring fans; </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">he's got sweet shades on, he walks with a strut and swagger only a superhero's alter ego can pull off</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, and, at that, I knew I was already a little in love with a movie that certainly packs in some </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">unnecessary mini-plot points and lacks a bit of the last script's bite.</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The gist: </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The U.S. government wants Tony to turnover his secret Suit's technology. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">A walking, talking specimen of Cool, w</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">e're treated to a delightful court scene where Tony tells the senator (Garry Shandling) demanding the tech to go jump in a lake, donning his ubiquitous sunglasses, and bowing out with a "But, </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I </span></span></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">have</span></span></b></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> successfully privatized world peace</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">." Bam.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At that, Hammer (Rockwell) recruits Rourke to help develop new technology; conveniently, the Russian has old scores to settle with the Stark family.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Enter, more villains, several sequences that involve Whiplash working on a fleet of new robot suits, many, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">many</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> close-ups of </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Johansson's ridiculously pouty lips</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> that are pretty to look at, and, of course shots of Whiplash using those wonderful electric whips to slice cars in half. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia,serif;"><a href="http://www.shockya.com/news/wp-content/uploads/iron_man_2_scarlet_black_widow1.jpg"><img src="http://www.shockya.com/news/wp-content/uploads/iron_man_2_scarlet_black_widow1.jpg" alt="" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 397px;" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I thought </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">it was very, very fun</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, and rarely did my mind wander during the action scenes, something it's prone to doing.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There's a great little piece</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> over at </span></span><a href="http://movie-critics.ew.com/2010/05/10/iron-man-2-robert-downey-jr-fanboys/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Entertainment Weekly</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> that discusses the film's notably high appeal to starry-eyed ladies like myself and why they flocked to IM2 and walked out with a smile: The power of the film's characters' overwhelming charm. (And, having talked to many males about the subject, </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I don't think the seduction of the charm-laden film</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> is limited to ladies.)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">According to a studio distribution exec, EW quotes, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“</span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You would expect such numbers from a film like</span></span></b><em style="font-style: italic;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Sex and the City 2."</span></span></b></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The author then puts into words better than I could've mustered what I, and most everyone I've talked to about it, seems to agree with:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><em style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"></span></span></em></span></div><blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><em style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Iron Man 2</span></span></em><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> succeeds on the charm of its characters</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> rather than on the </span></span><em style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ka-chunk, ka-chunk</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> of its warfare and impersonal CG action sequences. And chicks like charm. </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Heck, </span></span></b><em style="font-style: italic;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">everyone</span></span></b></em><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> likes charm</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, real charm. Which is why </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robert Downey Jr. is currently the master of his domain</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. It also helps that in </span></span><em style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Iron Man 2</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, Gwyneth Paltrow is spunky-charming, Sam Rockwell is smarmy-charming, Mickey Rourke is psycho-charming, Scarlett Johansson is slinky-charming, and Samuel L. Jackson is eyepatch-charming.</span></span></span></div></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">For someone who claims </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">RDJ as one of her first loves</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> (</span></span><a href="http://blogs.ajc.com/radio-tv-talk/files/2010/01/ferris.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Bueller</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> may have come first, and </span></span><a href="http://www.whataboutclients.com/archives/Paul-Newman-Photograph-C12142732.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Newman </span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">certainly later surpassed him -- but just like with all real loves, some part of it never dies.), it warms my Ice Cold Heart (let's be honest, the only "real loves" I have exist on-screen) to know that </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">RDJ is once again "master of his [charm] domain."</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As for the </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">PopSci article on the IM2 suit</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, the top half of it was engineered by some very high-tech designers who told me in detail about the intricacies of his gloves, down to how many metal braces went around each of his digits; </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the bottom half of the suit was CGI. </span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Iron Man/RDJ was pants-less in the filming -- or, at least he wasn't wearing the Iron Man legs throughout. That also kind of warmed the Ice Heart, and made me giggle at the idea of him </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">protecting world peace in his undies</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><b>Movie Trivia: Sam Rockwell was the "Head Thug" in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, back in 1990 (ripe age of 22). Awesome.</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><b>TMNT trailer:</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3Urnzz-eXO8&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3Urnzz-eXO8&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-77568854350747845832010-04-17T10:23:00.005-04:002010-04-17T10:55:33.743-04:00"Date Night": That's a Kill Shot!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://jessiwhitt.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/datenight1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://jessiwhitt.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/datenight1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Now for a bit more optimism. <div><br /></div><div><b>"Date Night" -- the two belles of the TV ball get together (Steve Carell, Tina Fey)</b> to make a very Matthew McConaughey/Jennifer Aniston-type movie. You get what you pay for.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>I'm a sucker for these types of movies</b>, especially when put on by two of the wittiest sitcom folks of our age. To not like it would be like knocking a Belushi flick, or a Steve Martin movie, or a John Candy send-up. Sure, <b>the material could've made their lights shine brighter</b>, but those two are golden, and the movie was entertaining enough to warrant many second-viewings on cable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Claire and Phil Foster are <b>two average Joe-Americans</b>, living in New Jersey and looking to spice up their married life a little. Claire (Fey), after hearing of her good friend's marriage's demise, decides she should wear a hot number on her date (with her husband, Carell). He notices, dresses up himself, and <b>they venture into Manhattan for a nice date at "Claw." </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>"Claw" is the stand-in for any swank restaurant that anyone has ever tried to get a table at</b>, at the last minute, only to be rebuffed by a well-groomed man who thinks his position at the podium gave him a nod to be a Jerk.</div><div><br /></div><div>Carell decides to go for someone else's reservation (an enduring joke throughout the film), and while the couple is eating risotto and drinking wine, a couple of thugs roll on up and<b> take them out to the alley for "a talk."</b> The Fosters think they're being taken to task for being sneaks on the reservation; the thugs have a case of mistaken identity that they don't believe. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yadda, yadda.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Hijinks ensue, laughs are had, and, who'd've thunk it, but we all end up safely in our beds. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Best line of the movie: "That's a Kill Shot!" -- when the <b>Bad Guys turn their guns horizontal, Carell claims it the "kill shot," which was very on-point.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing was ruined, but nothing was gained.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">O</span>ne thumb up, one sideways.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uSV4Y2l7JQg&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uSV4Y2l7JQg&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-55342034725384168692010-04-17T09:34:00.005-04:002010-04-17T10:12:58.613-04:00"Kick-Ass" ... I Wish.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.anomalousmaterial.com/movies/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/675898-kickass1_super.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 414px;" src="http://www.anomalousmaterial.com/movies/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/675898-kickass1_super.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />"At some point in our lives, <b>we all wanted to be superheroes." </b><div><div><br /></div><div>So began what I thought was going to be a new favorite Stupid Movie: <b>Kick-Ass.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I walk around the streets of New York, <b>twiddling my thumbs</b>, staring up at the sky, <b>stepping over cracks</b>, mostly pretending that I'm a spy. Might as well be a "superhero." I've never grown out of that sense of "What would it be like, if ...?" It's how I get through the day, when not seated in a theater or whatnot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, <b>"Kick-Ass" promised to be a spy-lover's dreamer like me's </b><i><b>raison d'etre</b></i>. I envisioned "Wanted" (fraternity of assassins) with a sprinkle of Zombieland, Eagle Eye (awful), Superbad, whatever.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought it would be good.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let the record state: <b>I hated this movie</b>. </div><div><br /></div><div>With an opener like "...we all wanted to be superheroes," I put down my popcorn, curled up my legs and was ready to let the movie take me wherever it wanted to go.</div><div><br /></div><div>But, instead of taking me somewhere awesome, <b>I got super flat jokes, the most obnoxious voiceover the ENTIRE TIME</b> -- and, I'm amenable to some V.O. when it's Cera or Eisenberg eking out their measly awkward lines for the sake of humor -- and just wounded stunts over and over.</div><div><br /></div><div>This <b>New Guy, </b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1093951/"><b>Aaron Johnson</b></a><b>,</b> really felt like a <b>poor man's Michael Cera</b>. He's not as cute/endearing, and when he voiceovers, it's like you can see him sitting in a studio reading out his lines. Not good. When he dons his "Kick-Ass" suit -- because he feels like <b>there are no Samaritans left in this world</b>, as people are just desensitized to all the cruelty and violence on the NY streets, these days -- he mugs for the camera a few bazillion times and then hits the pavement to take on villains. </div><div><br /></div><div>The movie was the pits.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Clark Duke (of "Hot Tub Time Machine") is fine</b> in it; Nic Cage is ... skinny, reminiscent of his "Raising Arizona" days, but the man's career choices should still -- as always -- be put into question. </div><div><br /></div><div>The <b>foul-mouthed 12-year old, "Hit Girl," Chloe Moretz, (and Cage's "daughter") is cringe-worthy</b>; I'm biased there because I'm a Texan, and anyone speaking like that deserves a big old slap in the face -- but, more importantly, the only other mentionable thing this child has done thus far is <b>"Diary of a Wimpy Kid"</b> -- and that I cannot get behind.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two big, old <b>thumbs DOWN</b>.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div></div><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DrKHu2UX1vA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DrKHu2UX1vA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-56883461231345239112010-04-03T09:24:00.010-04:002010-04-10T15:23:46.774-04:00Movie Glut: "Hot Tub Time Machine," "Diary of a Wimpy Kid"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thefilmstage.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/hot_tub_time_machine.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 311px;" src="http://thefilmstage.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/hot_tub_time_machine.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I've seen a few movies in the past couple weeks (Surprise!). Maybe <b>I've seen seven</b>, but two were repeats ("Shutter Island," and <b>"How to Train Your Dragon"</b>) -- eh, who's counting, anyway?<div><br /></div><div>Some<b> high-lights/-lows:</b></div><div><br /><div><b>"Hot Tub Time Machine"</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>The title was insidious. The trailer was awful. <b>I saw it opening night. </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>I guess <b>I was never one for transitive logic.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>When <b>John Cusack</b> headlines something, and <b>Steve Pink</b>'s behind it ("High Fidelity," "Grosse Pointe Blank"), there's no point in pretending I have free will -- even if the plot is: three near-middle aged men and an agoraphobic 20-year-old go to a ski resort for a doldrums-curing weekend reprieve, only to<b> find themselves whisked away into the 80s after falling into some wormhole of a hot tub. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Even then, <b>opening night.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>We meet Adam (Cusack), Nick (Craig Robinson) and Lou (Rob Corddry) in present day, the three of them just about <b>as miserable as Kevin Spacey in "American Beauty."</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Adam's <b>long-time lady has just left him</b> (we learn from an outraged answering-machine message, which, come to think of it, is more 80s than present-day, but, I digress.); Nick works at a pet store, where we find him having to reach into a dog's rear-end -- our first of many, many foul potty-humor jokes; and <b>Lou's an alcoholic lunatic whose near-death is what brings the three old friends back together again.</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>They decide to take a jaunt up to an old ski resort to relive their youthful, glory days, bringing along Adam's basement-dwelling, unwilling nephew, <b>Jacob (Clark Duke)</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, once we arrive at the ski resort, the romanticized place of parties, booze, and hot women is a dilapidated, depressing old lodge.</div><div><br /></div><div>But, they charge forward; fueled by a lot of booze, they can still make it a fun night. And, hey, there's <b>a hot tub fit for four grown men to squeeze into!</b></div><div><br /></div><div>After passing out, the four fools awake to some startling realizations. One, their reflections look strikingly smooth-skinned and young; two, <b>people downstairs and on the slopes are dressed really ... 1986.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>"Dude is rocking a cassette player... Leg warmers!"</b></div><div><b><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4DCFPS58KYY&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4DCFPS58KYY&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I typically <b>balk at bad -- err, off-color -- humor.</b> The first time I saw "Superbad," I felt myself blush throughout the entire penis-drawings scene -- ever since, I skip over it. I can't even really get through normal conversations that involve (what-I-consider) "grody" things -- and <b>this movie had some of the most raunchy lines, and some otherwise, very off-putting stunts</b> I've seen in a long while. Or, maybe it just had such a glut of them.</div><div><br /></div><div>But, somehow, it worked.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it's because <b>Cusack plays his normal-guy role</b>, and most of the raunchy jokes are left for Corddry and Robinson, so <b>I wasn't </b><i><b>so</b></i><b> grossly offended</b> and old Cusack gets to remain a shining, do-no-wrong celeb Love in my eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe. </div><div><br /></div><div>Or, maybe I'm just getting so desensitized to this type of humor that my knee-jerk blushing and embarrassment is becoming minimized?</div><div><br /></div><div>Nah, I don't think that's it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Really, <b>what kept me so engaged in this completely manic movie </b>was the deference and homage it paid to so many movies that came before it (I can't believe I'm using "deference and homage" with respect to HTTM, but ... it's somehow deserved.). The allusions and straight references to "Back to the Future" (down to <b>Crispin Glover's role in the movie -- who </b><i><b>was</b></i><b> George McFly</b>) kept me giggling throughout. The writers preempt the viewer from over-thinking the trouble with time-travel movies by addressing "concerns" (ha.) in dialogue and through referring to old movies ... all those questions you inevitably think of:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Wait, what about ripples in time if you change something?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Wait, what if you see yourself, and your old self sees the new you, and then ..." </div><div><br /></div><div>"Wait, what if I Biff buys an Almanac and ..."</div><div><br /></div><div><b>For instance, Glover (or, G. McFly)</b> <b>plays a one-armed bellhop</b> who greets the quad when they arrive at the lodge in present day. He's been there since they were younglings. When the group time warps back into 1986, he's got both his arms -- so, it's one of Corddry's missions to see just how he lost one; it makes room for plenty of jokes -- some side-splitting, some just stupid.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Overall, I really enjoyed it </b>- despite many flaws.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>"Diary of a Wimpy Kid"</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>I won't bore any of the five of you with a review on this movie. It was Awful. Awful. And, it's the last time <a href="http://www.thecrimson.com/article/2005/7/8/me-and-mini-me-there-she-sat/">Little Morgan</a> gets to choose a movie when we have our Movie Dates. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also, it's too nice out in New York to be sitting around bloggling. </div><div><br /></div><div>The next few reviews: "Greenberg," "How to Train Your Dragon," "Date Night."</div><div><br /></div><div>One of those is my favorite movie since Daniel Plainview drank our Milkshakes.</div></div><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HHpM5US2HDs&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HHpM5US2HDs&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />[Edited Addendum: A good buddy just reminded me that the Milkshake Scene is one of the best of the decade ... I responded that, yes, it is. The close second is "Call It" from NCFOM -- so, I figured I should gratuitously link it. YW.]<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wkh6if8TL2U&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wkh6if8TL2U&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-11357817049221695892010-03-11T02:21:00.007-05:002010-03-17T11:21:45.408-04:00Alice in Wonderland, Home -- Then Excuses for Poor Movie Choices<div style="text-align: center;">Houuuuuston for nearly 2 weeks. :-D</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mtv.com/movies/photos/a/alice_in_wonderland_trailer_090724/06_alice_in_wonderland.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 365px;" src="http://www.mtv.com/movies/photos/a/alice_in_wonderland_trailer_090724/06_alice_in_wonderland.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><b>We sat in the second row of the theater, our three heads cocked back at an uncomfortable angle. </b>There were 7 lbs. of diet sodas in our laps, and an aching urge to throw the 3-D, IMAX lenses at the screen, due to the unsettling effects brought about by the first few minutes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yet, they looked so cool that <b>by the time we left the Times Sq. theater, we'd deigned to thieve the theater eyeglasses.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Thus was how we three (me, and two lovely Irish sisters) entered the land of Alice -- err, Tim Burton -- world of wonderment. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'd only ever seen one other movie in 3-D, <b>the wretched "Avatar," </b>and I realized rather quickly, that had we chucked those shades at the screen, we'd have missed out on some of the movie's most awesome aspects.</div><div><br /></div><div>The movie was brilliantly done, and I am certainly no across-the-board Burton-lover. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Some of the criticism I've read (couldn't help myself) calls it soulless or not true to the original text. </b>These jokers chide Burton for his preoccupation for visual greatness, while overlooking a more jointed, sequential story line. <b>These folks are fools.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>There's no denying that <b>Burton deviates from the original text.</b> But, in a way similar to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rhfywi5Y8TM">"Where the Wild Things Are,"</a> Burton (like Jonze -- who had Sendak's live approval) took a text with themes and tales so incredibly open to interpretation (<b>"Alice" </b><i><b>is</b></i><b> an archetypal piece of "literary nonsense" after all -- so, in my book, nonsensical things should be interpretive</b>) and embellished, but remained true to the spirit. </div><div><br /></div><div>All that aside, the performances were fantastic, in every sense of the word.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Johnny Depp was awesome as Mad Hatter. </b>From the previews, I thought we were going to see a repeat of "Willy Wonka," but Depp had more gravity about him in this role, which I appreciated.</div><div><br /></div><div>New Girl, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1985859/">Mia Wasikowska</a>, was beautiful and endearing -- one of my movie dates compared her to "what we <i><b>thought</b></i><b> Kirsten Dunst was going to be after 'Interview with a Vampire'," which was incredibly apt.</b></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.askmen.com/celebs/women/actress/mia-wasikowska/large_image-1.jpg"><img src="http://images.askmen.com/celebs/women/actress/mia-wasikowska/large_image-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 376px; height: 490px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>She also looks to me like a young <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000588/">Martha Plimpton</a>:</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nndb.com/people/239/000026161/martha-plimpton.jpg"><img src="http://www.nndb.com/people/239/000026161/martha-plimpton.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 325px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then, there was <b>Helena Bonham Carter (as the "Red Queen") and Anne Hathaway ("White Queen")</b>, and Alan Rickman ("Blue Caterpillar"), Crispin Glover ("Stayne" -- Knave of Hearts) ... and, <b>Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry) -- pictured above. Cheshire was maybe my favorite character.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>They were all so good. There were moments I felt like I was watching "<b>The Neverending Story,</b>" "<b>Beetlejuice,</b>" and several other fantastical movies I grew up loving -- except nowadays things come flying out at you from the screen and you feel like you can touch the leaves falling from trees within the Rabbit Hole. Awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was frabjous.</div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-66050491678752673622010-03-08T08:24:00.009-05:002010-03-08T09:21:26.235-05:00"The Yellow Handkerchief," Kristen Stewart<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUceAuz_rUjNdx8ZCZYeWJGvBMmU6OmAeZoIrPPdd9L7LeEjefVJWuE11aGHxkntbOr8CxZPc319_xjwfnovOOzUiapNhC0VHCGQeheuFU7N8waRlb1DyZVRhSxgg_c5SYC7C1VcG-zvgp/s1600-h/small+kristen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUceAuz_rUjNdx8ZCZYeWJGvBMmU6OmAeZoIrPPdd9L7LeEjefVJWuE11aGHxkntbOr8CxZPc319_xjwfnovOOzUiapNhC0VHCGQeheuFU7N8waRlb1DyZVRhSxgg_c5SYC7C1VcG-zvgp/s400/small+kristen.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446264439646214978" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">I've always known <b>I can't walk past a movie theater without finding an excuse to duck in.</b> Even broke as a joke, I find a way to rationalize: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"These old guts could use a good few days without eating," I think.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yesterday, the excuse was to see "<b>The Blind Side</b>" because it was the only film I hadn't seen for <a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-heart-goes-out-to-movie-humanity.html">The Oscars</a>; only, it wasn't playing at Lincoln Cinemas.<div><br /></div><div>So, while <b>I was twiddling my thumbs round the theater, </b>three very zealous ladies approached me and asked if I could take their picture in front of the poster for <b>"The Yellow Handkerchief."</b> I hadn't heard of the movie, and while I obliged their picture-taking (for near-on a dozen photos), I became intrigued.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>"It's supposed to be an am</b><i><b>a</b></i><b>zing movie," one said.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>"I've heard it's supposed to be greeeeaaaat," said another.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I waltzed into the theater they slapped my shoulder and said, "We convinced you! <b>We're here to support Kristen Stewart."</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I should've left right then and there; but, I didn't -- <b>William Hurt</b> is in the movie, so I thought it might turn out fine.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>It did not.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>This <b>horribly disjointed movie</b> made me cringe and get unwarranted goosebumps multiple times. That means, manipulative. I'm all for goosebumps and girlish feelings, but when you goad me along in your story, thinking I'm going to find some big pay-off -- <b>don't play me for a fool, especially when you're taking my Ramen-noodle budget with you.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Premise: Brett Hanson (<b>William Hurt</b>) gets let from prison, and <i>all</i> he wants is to feel the free air on his hands and get himself a beer. He does so -- he goes to a <b>local Southern (yes!)</b> diner and sits down to some food and a beer ... but then.</div><div><br /></div><div>He looks out the window and sees Martine (<b>Kristen Stewart</b>) getting into a tiff with her assumed-beau; then we start the flashbacks to Hanson's perpetration and things get a bit eerie. We see toes that are feminine and wonder if his wrongdoing was r@pe; we wonder if his jail-time was due to his primal nature, as they show so many flashbacks making us want to think that.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fileserver.tinker.com/tinker/events/3/3554_main_image_1244241620.jpg"><img src="http://fileserver.tinker.com/tinker/events/3/3554_main_image_1244241620.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>But, he seems like <b>a good guy.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Then, enter "Gordy" (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1519666/">Eddie Redmayne</a> -- who I haven't written about since <a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2008/08/savage-grace-shocks-with-decadence.html">"Savage Grace"</a>) who's his same <b>unbelievably gaunt-looking weird-guy character</b>; but this time, he's ostensibly trying to look after Martine. The three of them -- Hurt, Stewart, Redmayne -- have to deal with being alone (really alone ... think: post-Hurricane Katrina/Zombieland) for a few days. </div><div><br /></div><div>The problems with the movie were plenty. <b>I love apocalyptic-sensation, zombies, and non-linear timelines</b>; but this movie didn't get it right. They try to trick you, but you're so bamboozled already by the close that you're predicting a sedate ending. Which is what you get.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Two big Grice-thumbs down.</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span></div><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UcLQepMAnvc&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UcLQepMAnvc&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-52434781422345892522010-03-08T06:31:00.012-05:002010-03-08T08:05:52.671-05:00The (Inexcusable) Oscars, and Cyrus: "It's Like a Crippled Tree, Reaching for Heaven."<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1cj9VGpyzAQdUzPJrtEvDBLjUy_4Qc01yHCnHd9apEG6yZo4JELf_9pcRiv2ZmE9GwmMRZsmb13UqtWrSrK7sn3fMgH-0VwQSiL7rRbmtzVDLbgOFCQWBCNdnamVNtlVoSc0am5pPzYl/s1600-h/hurt+locker.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1cj9VGpyzAQdUzPJrtEvDBLjUy_4Qc01yHCnHd9apEG6yZo4JELf_9pcRiv2ZmE9GwmMRZsmb13UqtWrSrK7sn3fMgH-0VwQSiL7rRbmtzVDLbgOFCQWBCNdnamVNtlVoSc0am5pPzYl/s400/hurt+locker.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446234281927180338" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Well, that was supposed to be a fun night. <b>Sure, we all knew 2009 had been a year of movie mediocrity, a crime against our collective sensibilities.</b> But, I'd been awaiting Oscar night since the turn of the year -- and, now I'm going to have to hesitate each time I fork over my $12 to see <i>anything</i>.</div><div><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><br /></span></u></div><div>That was <b>the most piss-poor performance of hosting I've ever had the (un)privilege of watching.</b> In the past few days, I'd watched "Parenthood," "My Blue Heaven," "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles," and "The Jerk," in homage to Steve Martin; I've always been caught up on "30 Rock" (for Mr. Baldwin) but, I even re-re-<b>re-watched "Beetlejuice."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://michaelsmoviemania.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/beetlejuice.jpg"><img src="http://michaelsmoviemania.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/beetlejuice.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>All those hours of being glued to the screen, just so I was sure I'd catch any movie-references and/or jokes that were going to be put forth on stage.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>And, what'd we get? Nothing.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>To jab/twist the knife further, <b>"The Hurt Locker," really?</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Sandra Bullock in <b>"The Blind Side," </b><i><b>REALLY? </b></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Perhaps the <b>Academy of Jerks </b>is waiting to give Meryl a Sidney Poitier-esque Honorary Award in the years to come when she's an old lady, but ... Wow, to snub her Julia Child performance in<a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2009/08/little-morgans-evil-games-julie-julia.html"> "Julie and Julia"</a> to laud Ms. Bullock? -- even I, with the heart of ice, doesn't approve.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>82nd Oscars, thumbs down </b>-- just like all the sh*t movies 2009 presented.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Disclaimer: Thank the gods that <b>Jeff Bridges won for "Crazy Heart," and Cristoph Waltz for "Inglorious Basterds"</b> -- else, all would be wrong in the world.)</div><div><br /></div><div>To get our minds off of this travesty, let's watch a trailer I saw yesterday at the moofies. <b>"Cyrus":</b></div><div><br /></div><div>"What are you doing here in the forest, with Shrek?" -- "It's like a crippled tree, reaching for Heaven." -- <b>"I will knock you out."</b> Awesome.</div><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0G0bYpMQ-fI&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0G0bYpMQ-fI&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-24766276664970510972010-03-06T12:14:00.006-05:002010-03-07T18:52:18.304-05:00A Needed Winter Triple Feature: Third, Cop Out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.impawards.com/2010/posters/cop_out.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 511px; height: 755px;" src="http://www.impawards.com/2010/posters/cop_out.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />When I was 10, <b>I went on my first secret-date with a boy at the Dollar Cinema</b>, the esteemed place which I've written about on this here bloggle <a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2009/11/little-morgan-movies-first-chapter.html"><b>many times before</b></a><b>.</b> We saw <b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u62iecPH6Gg">"Loaded Weapon 1,"</a></b> and I hated it. My next secret date was to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTd9VS-avKA">"Blankman"</a> (in the same cinema: we were kids and broke ... oh, how things have changed... [cough]). <div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>I hated that one, too. I was a cynical little jerk, looking back.</b><div><br /></div><div>I'm all for spoofs, irony, parodies, mocks, whatever -- but as a little kid, I had no time for it. I thought those rung stupid and too silly; I guess I was a tiny snob.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Because "Cop Out" was pretty awesome. </b>Maybe my sensibilities have regressed over the years - or, maybe I've just been yearning for a silly buddy-cop movie and hadn't realized it. I thought this movie was pretty hilarious, and so refreshing for the movie environs we're given right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>I went with a movie friend of mine, and <b>we both entered with extremely low expectations.</b> Over dinner, we thought if the food took too long, it might be better, in fact, if we <i>didn't</i> make it to the picture. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, we scarfed down our nachos and sauntered over to the theater -- as we walked out,<b> we were both still chuckling.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I don't need to describe the movie premise in any detail; it's Bruce Willis (as Jimmy Monroe) and Tracy Morgan (as Paul Hodges) playing <b>bumbling police partners</b> who are looking to take down some bad dudes. Within the first five minutes, we see Paul (Tracy Morgan) interrogating a perpetrator; <b>his method is to use every line in every movie involving bad/good guys in pop culture to get the guy to squeal.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I was grabbing my guts from laughter, and testing myself internally to make sure I got all the references at the same time. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>The self-referential stuff goes on throughout the movie</b> -- and for someone like me - someone who tends to speak <i>in</i> movie lines because she's incapable of normal human interaction - it was so great, if incredibly stupid.</div><div><br /></div><div>When we walked out of the theater, my friend and I both agreed that <b>if you haven't seen every movie under the sun in the past 50 years, it likely might strike the viewer as too slapstick or off-the-wall.</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>If you <i>are</i> a movie geek, it's quite the little riot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ahhhhhh, Oscars in less than two hours! </div><div><br /></div><div>Just saw "The Yellow Handkerchief" on my walk home from my best friend's apartment on a whim. Probably should've saved those 12 bones.</div></div><br /><br />Again, for giggles, <b>"Loaded Weapon 1"</b><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u62iecPH6Gg&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u62iecPH6Gg&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />And, <b>"Cop Out"</b><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2lmIoU1OSfk&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2lmIoU1OSfk&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-66872155635656120762010-03-05T08:52:00.006-05:002010-03-05T10:24:28.332-05:00A Needed Winter Triple Feature: Second, Shutter Island<div style="text-align: left;">Oh, Martin Scorsese. How my heart is torn.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>After seeing </b><a href="http://bit.ly/9ZWwuw"><b>"The Crazies"</b></a><b> the other night,</b> I steeled myself and looked suspiciously around at my fellow movie compatriots and wondered what airborne infectious disease I was going to catch if I ventured back into the theaters to see "Shutter Island."</div><div><br /></div><div>I figured, "Go hard, or go home," and at 10:40pm, I certainly wasn't going home without a fight.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>So, off I went. "Shutter Island" it was.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>(I should give a disclaimer that <b>I was one of those 14-year-old girls who saw "Titanic" in theaters 9 times back in the day,</b> so DiCaprio has always been sort of a pet-idol of mine, not like <a href="http://sliceofgrice.blogspot.com/2008/09/paul-newman-died-i-already-talked-to.html">Paul</a>, but still, even when his career was waning. And, per Scorsese, I'm also a sucker for pretty much all he does, minus the "Cape Fear" remake of '91.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.jockboymusic.com/photos/uncategorized/2008/02/29/titanic_movie_leo_kate_kiss_2.jpg"><img src="http://www.jockboymusic.com/photos/uncategorized/2008/02/29/titanic_movie_leo_kate_kiss_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 477px; height: 475px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Enough disclaimers.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>"Shutter Island" </b></div><div><br /></div><div>The assumed premise is easy: Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) are two U.S. Marshals sent to <b>an island holding the criminally insane to investigate the disappearance of a very dangerous and disturbed lady.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Once on the sequestered sands of old Shutter Island (near Boston), <b>Dr. Crawley (Ben Kingsley, awesome) begins to put weird obstacles </b>in front of Teddy and Chuck's investigation. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, you want to access patient files? Hmm, I don't think that's allowed. At the Marshals' protest, Crawley and cohorts invoke obsolete chapter 3.06.11.9 rules of some handbook that gives them seniority over even the <i>most</i> top officials' queries.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Teddy (DiCaprio) is given some pills; we have some hallucinations of his dead wife </b>(<a href="http://l.yimg.com/l/tv/us/img/site/12/10/0000001210_20060919144316.jpg">Michelle Williams</a>), some head-spinnery, and the appearance of George Noyce (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0355097/">Jackie Earle Haley</a>, who I hadn't seen since <b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IiJLJd7cH1c">"Little Children"</a></b>), the man that DiCaprio has a seemingly-rightful vendetta against.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, there's the mysterious and creepy<b> Dr. Naehring</b> (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001884/">Max von Sydow</a>), who is the man in the trailer <b>who asks DiCaprio: "Going somewhere?" Yikes.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>So as not to spoil it, just know that <b>you get distracted by the staginess of the movie</b> -- which is clearly <b>an intentional Scorsese move</b>. The allusions to the old noir-ish days of long takes and very-conscious camera glances are palpable; but, for me, they worked so well. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>You get Hitchcock, "The Shining," and an awesome mystery that makes you remember the days of </b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHEpuz_gUGM"><b>"Clue"</b></a><b> all in one. </b>I know I'm the movie geek, but ... even just writing that sends shivers down my spine.</div><div><br /></div><div>And, <b>by the end, I had the same feelings I had from "A Beautiful Mind" and "Vanilla Sky."</b> As I walked out of the theater chucking my popcorn in the trash and sighing, it was the first time in a long while that strangers asked me if I knew what the true ending was.</div><div><br /></div><div>That made me smile.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thumbs up! </div><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HYVrHkYoY80&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HYVrHkYoY80&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />And, for sh*ts, <b>"Clue"</b>:<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NHEpuz_gUGM&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NHEpuz_gUGM&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5658730857171123146.post-90409629336172097572010-03-05T01:31:00.010-05:002010-03-05T08:29:15.137-05:00A Needed Winter Triple Feature: First, The Crazies<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://honoluluweekly.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/film-thecrazies.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 450px;" src="http://honoluluweekly.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/film-thecrazies.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></div><br />Over the past couple days, I've managed to stuff into my very (un)busy social schedule <b>three movies that sent me reeling back into the awesomeness of the 90s/early 2000s.</b> <div><br /></div><div>On one night, <b>I saw "The Crazies" and "Shutter Island."</b> The next night, I found myself clutching my ever-growing gut as I giggled at<b> Bruce Willis and Tracy Morgan in "Cop Out." </b>Yes, I willingly saw "Cop Out" and quite liked it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I haven't had that much unabashed fun at the movies in quite some time.<div><br /></div><div><b>"The Crazies"</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Back in 2002, I'd just moved to New York from Houston and hadn't a friend in the world within 1,000 miles. <b>I went to the movies everyday</b> and somehow sauntered into <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBZnuUZIbBQ">"28 Days Later"</a> as tiny teardrops eked from my eyeballs, wishing I were home with friends instead of alone in a theater. Yet, as soon as the <b>Infected individuals</b> of the movie graced the screen, I realized I was watching an <b>effective zombie movie of yore</b>; I relaxed and the world was right again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Little did I know that when I waltzed into "The Crazies" this week, I was about to see the same movie -- and love it all over again.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Crazies stars <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0648249/">Timothy Olyphant</a> (of TV's "Damages" and "Deadwood") and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0593664/">Radha Mitchell</a> ("Henry Poole Is Here" and, awesomely, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uWjMrxnWDI">"Phone Booth"</a>) as a Midwestern couple, David and Judy Dutton, respectively, who are <b>about to watch their Midwestern brethren become bloodthirsty human-demons with a will to kill.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.filmofilia.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/the_crazies-535x356.jpg"><img src="http://www.filmofilia.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/the_crazies-535x356.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 535px; height: 356px; " /></a></span></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>It all starts off nicely enough. He's the sheriff, she's the town doctor -- both are well-revered within the community, and she's expecting a baby. David Dutton (Olyphant) has a chummy sidekick deputy sheriff (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1725848/">Joe Anderson</a>) who'd just about lay down in front of a bus before his boss got hurt. </div><div><br /></div><div>One day, the whole small town is watching a little-league baseball game, when <b>the Town Drunk walks out onto the field with a glint of Crazy in his eyes</b>, wielding a shotgun no less. Olyphant scurries out onto the diamond and admonishes the drunk to put the gun down; no one wants to get shot out on the green.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Well, that glint of Crazy gets Old Man Drunk shot dead, right there on the field.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>After an autopsy, we quickly learn that <b>the town drunk had been sober for months</b>; there was something infectious in his blood that drove him to be a wavering, zombie-like psychopath. </div><div><br /></div><div>When Mrs. Dutton encounters a patient with the same look in his eyes shortly thereafter, we realize <b>we have a Situation on our hands.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>I thoroughly enjoyed this movie.</b> I was a balled-up block of angst the entire time (blood, guts, gore, thrills, etc.), but there were some <b>surprisingly sweet twists</b>, and the <b>dynamic between the three protagonists wasn't without some clever quips.</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>The only problem I had was my mind not being able to turn off the internal: "This is just like '28 Days Later," "Village of the Damned," "I Am Legend," "Outbreak," "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," "Last House on the Left," etc. -- <b>but, those are all good throwbacks in my book.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Next up, <b>"Shutter Island"</b> -- fantastic, and awful, at the same time.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>"The Crazies" </b>trailer:</div></div><div><br /></div><div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/J7w9uWFIMBs&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/J7w9uWFIMBs&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>PS: Any movie trailer that includes that "Mad World" music from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6LkdL8THFo">"Donnie Darko"</a> gets me every time.</div>Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04486639127292055564noreply@blogger.com2