1/27/2004 Tim Matheson, best known as Otter in Animal House, was the voice of
the original Johnny Quest, not to mention Jace on Space Ghost and Samson
on Young Samson and Goliath. John Vernon, who was Dean Wormer, was the
voice of Iron Man and Namor The Sub Mariner in the 60’s cartoons.
“TIME MAY CHANGE ME/BUT I CAN’T CHANGE TIME…”
The Butterfly Effect opens at number one,
confirming Ashton Kutcher as a star, because not only was this film trashed by
every single critic in the world, but not one of the ads clearly explained that
it was about a guy traveling through time trying to save his doomed girlfriend,
but only managing to make things worse. As an old school geek who once read science
fiction, I remember an old science fiction story by Ray Bradbury called “A Sound
of Thunder” about a travel service in the future that offers hunting trips through
time to kill doomed dinosaurs. One guy screws up and kills a butterfly and when
they return their entire civilization is gone. You think Ray’s getting a cut?
I don’t think so. Then again, it’s currently being made into a movie starring
Ed Burns and Catherine McCormack where the survivors try and undo the damage.
Reny Harlin was supposed to direct it, but wanted to take out the butterfly aspect.
I’m not kidding. He’s just that fucking stupid. That’s like wanting to
take The Ring out of Lord of the Rings. Ray Bradbury thought it was funny too.
In any case, that movie I will see, but not this one. I know what’s going to happen.
If they go soft, he’s going to eventually get to the point where he can only save
her if he accepts losing her---but they meet anyway. If they go hard, he has to
accept dying in her place. If they go in between he gives her up to live happily
ever after with someone else. No matter what, it all looks lousy, what with some
of the alternative futures ending up with him in prison or her being a whore.
Gee, could you be more fucking heavy handed? And funny how nothing else in the
world changes. Wouldn’t it be more interesting if one change turned the place
into Planet of the Apes? See, this is why I gave up reading science fiction. I
just couldn’t take this crap seriously any more. It only interests me as a comedy
or a big action adventure movie. Low key drama science fiction only works for
an hour on TV. That’s about as long as my suspension of disbelief can last. I
can’t do it even for ninety minutes, especially with fucking Ashton Kutcher. And
what’s up with trying to pretend even one person is going to see it because of
that fat guy?
ROBIN, BARNEY RUBBLE AND BOO-BOO ALL FEEL YOUR PAIN Along Came Polly is down to number two and after a moment of heat for solid supporting roles which resulted in a few indie film leads (which performed poorly even by indie film standards) Phillip Seymour Hoffman is back to doing what pays the bills: playing best friend of the lead. I can’t imagine anything other than money motivated him to do this cookie cutter film about a repressed guy who meets a free-spirited girl and changes because of her. Jesus, I’m getting bored just describing it. WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER OFF WATCHING THAT JASON PRIESTLY MOVIE Someone check the vaults at the ABC Family Film Library because one of their lame ass films escaped into national release and has entered the top ten at number three under the title Win A Date With Tad Hamilton. What makes this sad is that it fails even on its own shallow level. We know that when small town girl Kate Bosworth (with the prerequisite, horny, heavier best friend) meets big star Josh Duhamel, that she’s going to touch him somehow, right? Well, we never get that scene. We never get the big scene where they bond, but we get the results when he shows up in West Virginia---where no one has a southern accent. I suppose that spares me the horror of bad southern accents, but it’s still kinda stupid. They should have just set it in a small New England town. Also, what’s the point of a small town if we’re not going to see some “Big City/Small Town” contrast, not to mention small town eccentricities? It fails in all this, but sticks oddly to formula everywhere else. And then there’s the parenting issue. Only Kate Bosworth seems to have a parent and only one at that. We don’t get the big emotional moment where she touches Josh Duhamel about losing her mother. And Topher Grace, essentially playing the same role he plays every week on That 70’s Show, doesn’t have parents, which is never mentioned or explained. Ninety minutes of my life that I’m never, ever getting back. IF I CAN’T DO A SOUTHERN ACCENT, SOME GUY FROM JERSEY SURE AS HELL CAN’T Big Fish is down to number four and it’s filled with bad southern accents. Scotsman Ewan McGregor and New Jersey to the bone Danny DeVitto managed to caused me significant pain in just the trailers, so I can only imagine the movie being much, much worse. THE BIG SCREEN IS LIKE KRYPTONITE Lord of the Rings: Return of the King is down to number five followed by Cheaper By The Dozen at number six and I hope Tom Welling is enjoying this, because it’s doubtful he’ll ever be in the top ten again. Sorry, but history has not been kind to the men who would be Superman. George Reeves had his small part in Gone With The Wind and that was it. Christopher Reeve had no real success outside of playing Superman and Dean Cain never made it further than direct-to-video and made-for-cable movies. Hell, Tim Daly just did Superman’s voice in the animated series and can’t even get his career back up to the level of the lame-ass Wings (which was a truly godawful show, undeserving even of syndication). PRETTY VS. PRETTY SLUTTY Cold Mountain is down to number seven, followed by Torque at number eight and Jamie Pressly must see the writing on the wall. Your time to make it is just about over and now it’s time to start taking away soft-core porn role from Kari Wurher. Despite the fact that Maxim and Stuff and all those magazines can’t keep her off their covers, she’s not “The Girl” in this movie, which is the only kind of movie that would make her “The Girl.” Instead she plays the role of “Bad Guys’ Skank Girlfriend.” “The Girl” is played by Monet Mazur, who, unlike Pressly, is actually attractive, which is always a good way for the love interest to be. Pressly is sexy in that way that all slutty-looking women are and she has an amazing body, but pretty? Never. Ever. LIKE WATCHING A MOVIE WITH A LEAD WEIGHT ON YOUR BACK Something’s Gotta Give is down to number nine, followed by Mystic River, returning to the top ten at number ten and I probably will never see this they way I probably will never see 21 Grams. The fact that they are both “heavy, emotional death movies” is not the problem. The problem is they know they are “heavy, emotional death movies” and I can sense it in every frame. If I’m going to waste my life, it’s going to be in dumb romantic comedies, dumb science fiction movies and dumb action movies. At least on some level, no matter how cynical, they are trying to make me happy. ENTER THE DRAGON So, Movie Buddy ’98 got me to not only leave the house on Saturday night, but see movies at a museum. Yes, I wound up at the Lily May Wong retrospective currently running at the Museum of Modern Art theater in Grammercy. In case you don’t know who she is, Anna May Wong was Hollywood’s first Asian female star, starting way back in the 30’s and essentially created the role of “The Dragon Lady.” Needless to say, it was not a good time to be a minority in Hollywood and like her Black counterpart, Dorothy Dandridge, she enjoyed greater success overseas, played the same role over and over again and wound up dying alone and forgotten. As I told my friend, it’s a Golden Globe performance waiting to happen for either Lucy Liu or Ming Na. In any case, we saw two of her films: Daughter of the Dragon and Daughter of Shanghai. The latter was your typical potboiler but the first was based on one of the Sax Rohmer novels about Fu Manchu. In it, she played Fu Manchu’s daughter, who takes up his cause of revenge after his death and begins a romance with the son of Fu’s enemies in order to kill him. Needless to say, she falls for him and is unable to do it. Then there’s the Chinese cop working with Scotland Yard (played by a Japanese guy with a very heavy accent) who falls for her as well. Movie Buddy ’98 not only slept through it (she’d seen it before) but felt the need to apologize for it. Unnecessary. I loved it. It had the potential to be a camp classic and in the cab ride later I couldn’t help but tell her how it should be remade as a post-modern feminist story about a girl so desperate to be accept by her disregarding father that she follows his mad crusade and finds herself a caught between to men who don’t respect her either (the White Guy would never marry her and the Chinese Cop would never let her keep her career as a dancer). It would be great. And those lame 30’s fight scenes would now be full blown Hong Kong spectaculars. What really made me like it though, was a comic book I used to read called “Shang Chi: Master of Kung Fu.” Shang Chi was Fu Manchu’s son whose first assignment is to kill the man Anna May Wong falls for in the movie. After killing him, Shang Chi learns the truth about his father and joins MI-6 (and James Bond’s son) fighting him. Fu Manchu’s daughter was a regular character in the book, sometimes trying to take over the world herself and sometimes working for her father. Her name was Fah Lo Suee, but in the film they changed it to Ming Toy, for obvious reasons. Movie Buddy ’98 believes that if I can find a comic book connection, I can enjoy just about anything. Not true. I hated Daredevil and all the Batman movies. IF THE BED IS A ROCKIN’, DON’T BOTHER--- AH, WHO AM I KIDDING? IT’S NOT MOVING. EVER. So after 15 years, I finally replaced my goddamn futon mattress, which began its life as my couch, back when I lived in Brooklyn and actually had a living room. I’ve had a very slight back problem since I was teenager so I can’t sleep on anything too soft. I need firmness. This is why I disregarded all the complaints from various visitors over the years over its hardness (and, no, I don’t want to hear any shit from you now). It’s also why I didn’t notice how much it had flattened out either. At least not until last week when stepped on it and felt one of the futon slats under my foot as if the mattress itself was not even there. And even though it didn’t affect my sleeping habits, I knew it had to go. Because even after 18 years, I’m still not truly a New Yorker, it took me a while to accept that I was simply going to have to have the damn thing delivered. It kills me to have to pay $35 for that. But on the upside, I called and it was in my house less than four hours later. On a freaking Sunday no less. It’s queen sized and eight inches thick (with a foam center), which makes it the biggest thing in the room in more ways than one.
“REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD…”
Bands Reunited is a great, though terribly sad show. After all, living a rock and roll lifestyle is hardly conducive to aging well. I mean have you seen Robert Plant lately? He looks like a curly wig on top of a melted candle. It’s ten shows over ten nights and for the first week it was Berlin, Rome Void, Flock of Seagulls, Klymaxx and Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Berlin was first off and for me, though I loved “Sex “I’m A…)” and “Metro” my favorite song of theirs was “No More Words.” As would become a trend, the center and founder of the band was a bit of a dick about reuniting, taking himself much too seriously and not formally agreeing to perform until everyone else had come onboard. Needless to say, they’d either gone bald or gotten fat or both, but lead singer Teri Nunn actually looks better today than she did then. Then again, she never stopped performing under the Berlin name. Their performance was decent too and you knew they still had the chops when “No More Words” was done damn near acoustically. Romeo Void actually had two hits. Their classic “I Might Like You Better” and “A Girl In Trouble.” But their reunion was a bit sad because the saxophonist, who is so important on “I Might Like You Better” had suffered ear damage to the point where, not only could he not play with them, he couldn’t even be in the same room to listen to their performance. A Flock of Seagulls provided some amazingly painful moments of awkwardness, as the lead singer and drummer were brothers who did not speak. In every reunion, when the band members would see each other come into the room for the first time in years, they’d jump up and embrace. Not the brothers. The arrogant ass lead singer wouldn’t stop fiddling with the keyboards to greet his brother and his brother didn’t even try to touch him. They actually had three hits: “I Ran” “Telecommunication” and “Space Age Love Song” which was always my favorite. Bad Influence agrees with me and he loved the show even more than I did, watching it twice. Klymaxx actually had four hits: “The Men All Pause” “Sexy” “I Miss You” and “Man Sized Love.” Their episode was amazing painful, because one member had seriously screwed the others over by trademarking the group’s name and they were not having it. At one point, the lead singer and founder just up and walks out of the room. And when the traitor tries to apologize so she can be part of the gig, the lead singer leaves again. Needless to say, the traitor didn’t get to play (and was served with cease and desist orders against using the Klymaxx name). But just like the men, they all doubled in size over the last 18 years. With the exception of the lead singer/drummer, who hung on to her looks and was relatively the same size. What was really amazing was how good they still were---as audience member MC Lyte attested (a two-for-one special). Finally, it was Frankie Goes to Hollywood, which only had two hits I know of: “Relax” and “Two Tribes.” Again, we get the lead singer taking himself much too seriously. So seriously, in fact, that there is a reunion, but no performance. That’s right. The band is reunited after twenty years and over three continents, but no performance. And not one mention is made of the fact that the lead singer is HIV positive (and was once rumored to have died), so time isn’t exactly on his side. One thing I have to say about all these people is you can tell they still like the spotlight a bit, not simply because they all agree to this, but that they don’t react to being ambushed by a camera crew at their work and homes with violence the way I or any normal person would. One member of Romeo Void very accurately points out that the problem with the music business is that someone sits in a room and thinks of shit like that with no regard for the artists---which is exactly what VH1 did. But it sits firmly on top the throne as my favorite new show. I want so many more episodes, but they won’t be the same, because right now agents and managers and even band members are now plotting away to be on this show. Just as Behind The Music started fun and honest and quickly became just another PR tool (the Madonna episode was the turning point), so too will this turn. THE MAN MAY DIE, BUT THE DIRTY PICTURES LIVE ON Captain Kangaroo, Ann Miller and Helmut Newton. Jesus fucking Christ! Who isn’t going to die!?! Now, as a friend of mine has accurately pointed out, Captain Kangaroo was a bit creepy. You’ll notice the outcry after his cancellation died down rather quickly. Hell, I can’t even remember anything about Captain Kangaroo’s show. Ann Miller was, of course, a dancing legend, but I feel the greatest loss in Helmut Newton, who was a big old German pervert of a photographer, which is what made him so great. His work was stark, cold, sexy and perverse, but it was never, ever boring. Between him and Scavullo dying, the fashion world is reeling right now. Still, both men were in their 80’s and considering how they undoubtedly lived their lives (especially Helmut) it’s amazing they made it that far. What can you say about a Jew who escaped from Germany but had his wife pose as Hitler with Jerry Hall as Eva Braun!?! And Helmut was all about lesbian erotica long before it became the popular staple it is today. If you’ve ever seen The Eyes of Laura Mars, all that twisted photography was actually the work of Helmut and they really didn’t have to change it much (in the film, Laura Mars bases her fashion shoots on murderous visions she gets from a serial killer). Hell, the last time Playboy was even remotely interesting was when they gave Helmut a regular spot where he subjected the Playmates to his harsh style and quickly separated the wheat from the chaff, because without that plasticizing Playboy process a lot of them were very average looking people. But it obviously was too much for the frat boys and didn’t last long. Olivia Goldsmith, the woman who wrote First Wives Club also died---while getting her neck touched up. Now just how sorry are we supposed to feel for her? She died for vanity, period. It’s like when breast implants started going bad. How sorry can you feel for these people? You’re suffering because you’re shallow and weak-willed. There are people out there who can’t afford necessary surgery and you’re risking your life to try and halt the passage of time. Please. IT’S ALL ABOUT OSCAR, BABY. EVERYTHING ELSE IS LITTLE LEAGUE.
I really don’t watch the Golden Globes, but as I was waiting for my new
futon, I caught some of the red carpet…poor Evan Rachel Wood, your brother
is prettier than you are---which is going to be a problem considering
you’ll both be chasing the same guys…Kevin Costner’s daughter has blossomed
into the beauty we knew she’d be when she first popped up at the Academy
Awards a few years back and it’s all kinds of creepy that she looks a
lot like his twentysomething fiancée. And Joan Rivers was dead on about
the puny rock he gave her. When Britney Murphy shows up with a rock three
times the size that her nobody fiancée picked out BY HIMSELF, you know
you’re being cheap. Joan continued to mock that ring for the rest of the
night…Nicole Kidman, what is the point in wearing the super-plunging neckline
if you’re going to pussy out and wear a sheer material over the plunge?
And it was ugly anyway. It should have been all gold, not gold and gauze…Christina
Ricci continues to look very attractive in a very weird kind of way. But
what the fuck is she doing with butt ugly Adam Goldberg? No one who suffers
through an eating disorder to stay that thin with breasts that big needs
to settle…At the risk of sounding contradictory, Debra Messing doesn’t
good fat either. Sorry, her filled out face loses all its distinction…Alec
Baldwin and Kim Catrall onscreen together with no mention of the fact
he used to date Kristin Davis. But Catrall went out of her way to point
out that she was not with him. No, Baldwin came with some brunette with
cleavage for days…Sarah Jessica Parker’s dress would have been nicer if
it didn’t crush her breasts the way it did…Jessica Lange looked fucking
amazing. Where’s her movie where she gets naked at fiftysomething?...I’ll
say it one more time, Alicia Silverstone: eat a burger and get your tits
back. Not to mention your ass…We should hold Renee Zellweger down and
force to keep her weight up…Sarah Ferguson wearing her eye make-up so
heavily she looks like a prizefighter. Who lost…Johnny Depp looking like
a pimp, while his wife just looked like a nightmare…and I’m going to say
it every year for as long as this atrocity continues: black tie on a black
shirt DOES NOT WORK! IT’S WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! Cary Grant, David Niven
and Gary Cooper are spinning in their graves---where their corpses are
better dressed.
I CRIED WHEN APOLLO CREED DIED It’s comeback of Carl Weathers by not having any shame. First he pops up on SNL joining the joke about every cast member of Predator running for office. Now he’s popped on Arrested Development (my second favorite show) as himself as a D-list actor who’ll do anything for money. As Homer Simpson says, “It’s funny because it’s true.” OLD MAN BALLS
So after the Anna May Wong movies Movie Buddy ’98 and I attended a
charity ball thrown by a mutual friend. See, he was diagnosed with testicular
cancer two years ago, and now as a healthy survivor on the anniversary
of that day he has a party for charity. He calls it a “ball” for obvious
reasons. He’s ruthless in his humor. When a few people began backing out
because of the cold he sent an email out to every one saying, “Yeah,
the cold is bad. But you know what else is bad? Cancer!!!” Ruthless,
shameless and absolutely hysterical. In any case, I only know two people
there so I’m just biding my time until I can politely leave when I wind
up talking to a very attractive young lady and a guy from Liverpool who’s
been in this country about a week. Needless to say who I was really talking
to, but whatever. In any case after explaining just what it is that I
do, I ask her the same question. Her reply? “I go to NYU.” Ouch.
I’m talking to a girl attending a school I graduated from 16 years ago.
Man, I am so fucking old. I was out of there and on my way home about
five minutes after she said that. Grandpa needed his sleep. Besides, the
knee acts up in the cold. Not to mention the prostate trouble…
IT WON’T LAST
So the second season of David Chappelle show started and it’s filling
me with false hope about the future. Not only was the musical segment
gone, but it was funny for almost the whole show. I especially liked the
“Racial Draft” sketch, where people of mixed backgrounds were claimed
by one race or the other. Black people claimed Tiger Woods before the
Asians could, but they in turn claimed the whole Wu-Tang Clan. Jews claimed
Lenny Kravitz, Latinos claimed Elian Gonzales to prevent White people
from taking him like they tried to do the first time and White people
claimed General Colin Powell even though he wasn’t White, but only because
they agreed to also take Condoleezza Rice and keep Eminem---while Black
people were forced to keep OJ. Oddly enough one of the most interesting
things of the night was finding out that David Chappelle is married to
an Asian woman and it was their arguing over which half made Tiger Woods
great that inspired the sketch. Best joke: “Tiger Woods has been discriminated
against, sent death threats and dates White women. Sounds like a Black
man to me.” That’s almost as funny as the Bernie Mac joke that every
NBA rookie gets a White girlfriend because that’s how the White man gets
his money back. In any case, the opening episode of every season is always
above average. Let’s see what it’s like in a few weeks.
1/20/2004 In The Lion King, the song “Can You Feel The Love Tonight” was meant
to be sung sarcastically by Timon and Pumba, but Elton John was offended,
as he considered it one of the best songs he’d ever written and so the
scene was changed with Sir Elton now singing it as a straight ballad.
SOMEHOW ERECTIONS ARE NEVER BAD
Along Came Polly opens at number one and Ben Stiller has a virtual cottage
industry of these roles about a dweeb humiliated on the road to romance
(usually with anyone but a Jewish girl, but we won’t go there…for now).
Personally, I’m tired of them, but I seem to be alone in this. And between
this and Bruce Almighty, Jennifer Anniston is carving out her own little
niche as “girlfriend of star” and escaping the curse of Friends---which
that voodoo priest promised me would work and keep all these people on
the small screen forever. But even in the trailer she maintains her position
as the owner of the most prominent nipples in Hollywood. Either it’s very
cold on every single set she’s on or she’s simply very excited to be in
front of a camera. Even on Saturday Night Live, when she came out to do
the monologue, the headlights were on. Not that I’m complaining, mind
you, but it does seem a bit odd, especially when you consider she was
obviously wearing a bra. Whose nipples are that strong? And because
the internet is a scary, wonderful thing, if you want to see those shots
of her topless that she sued over, they’re pretty easy to find. And yes,
they are nice nipples. I think it’s God compensating her for not really
being pretty.
TRUTH IN ADVERTISING Lord of the Rings: Return of the King is down to number two and while the whole “Frodo stumbles” bit was the most annoying bit of forced drama in this movie, the question of Viggio Mortensen becoming king is the other. Hello, have we read the fucking title!?! At least we know where George Lucas stole it (even though his dumbass originally called it Revenge of the Jedi, completely ignoring the very essence of the characters he created). Imagine if all films were like this. Planet of the Apes: He’s Actually On Earth In the Future. Annie Hall: It Doesn’t Work Out In The End. The Sixth Sense: Ghost Shrink. The Maltese Falcon: She Killed His Partner For A Fake Bird. The Matrix Revolutions: It’s Lame Beyond All Imagining. Okay, maybe we needed it for that last one. VROOOM! VROOOM! Bigfish is down to number three, followed by Torque, opening at number four and nowhere outside of Hong Kong or a Warner Brothers’ cartoon will you see a greater disregard for the laws of gravity and physics, but I love this film. Why? Because it’s only 80 minutes, which is exactly how long a piece of crap should be. Empty, pleasurable things should never take up too much of your life. Bad food, bad music and bad women should only be brief excursions from the norm. The last film to get this right was The Replacement Killers, which clocked in at 84 minutes. This is pure eye candy. In fact, with its constant barrage of day-glo colors, everything looks edible from the bikes to the people. And apparently the work stopped there, because the script is more like an outline and logic joins physics in the trash bin. We know our good guys because they’re pretty, while the bad guys are not. And there’s something for almost everyone. Aside from the obvious White pretty-boy lead and his pretty blonde girlfriend, we also have his hot Latino (Jay Hernandez) and Asian (Will Yun Lee) best buddies. And in a rare occurrence, it’s the Asian guy who gets laid, and with a Latina (Christina Milian), no less! Sadly, the bruthas don’t come off as well. When Ice Cube is the best looking Black man around, you know you’ve got a problem. Granted, you might have had some credibility problems with someone like Taye Diggs or Shemar Moore as a gang leader, but in a film where a man jumps his bike onto a moving train and then rides along the top of it, who’s really going to complain? BEAUTY AND THE BEASTS Cheaper By The Dozen is down to number five, followed by Cold Mountain at number six and I still can’t find the three hours in my life it’s going to take for me to see this. The fact that Giovanni Ribisi and Jack White from the White Stripes isn’t exactly motivating me to see it either. I know Jude Law is pretty, but he’s gotta be a whole lotta pretty to make up for these ugly bastards. And no, I don’t think it’s weird he’s dating Renee Zellweger. I love her work, but she’s got a serious hatchet-face thing going on. Water seeks its own level, people. LOVE COSTS Something’s Got To Give is down to number seven and it just broke the $100M mark---which might mean something if it only cost $30M to make. But if How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, Maid in Manhattan and Two Weeks Notice all cost $50M, you know anything with Jack Nicholson and Keanu Reeves is going to cost at least that much. Then we tack on Diane Keaton, who, while not the star she once was, isn’t going to take chicken feed. Same for fellow Best Actress Oscar Winner, Frances McDormand, who uses films like these to pay for her indie work. Amanda Peet? Shit, she’s just lucky to be here. She should have washed Nancy Meyers’ car for this role. Amazingly enough, we’re talking at least $50M just to get the cast onboard. Now take on another $30M to make it. Yeah, we’re going to need another $100M before the back-slapping can start. SHE’S LIKE THE FEMALE MALCOM MCDOWELL
My Baby’s Daddy is still around at number eight with Calendar Girls popping
up at number nine. Despite my fear of old, English nudity (got nothing
against young, English nudity, having experienced it first hand---yes,
it was a woman!) I made my way to it and even though it bogs a bit down
in the final act, I did enjoy it. Again, like Diane Keaton, some noise
has been made about Helen Mirren getting naked, but Helen Mirren has been
getting naked since the 60’s! My first encounter with it was Excalibur,
when she played Morgana Le Fay, straddling Arthur in a black fishnet outfit
that surely didn’t exist in medieval England. In fact, it would be easier
to list the films where she isn’t naked, she does it so much (and
I’m talking full frontal here). But the Brits are like that. The last
people in the world who should be taking their clothes off, do it the
most. Besides, like Diane Keaton, when you look like that, even in your
50’s, getting naked is hardly scary. In fact, I was glad to see that the
difference between Helen Mirren’s bodies and some of the others is actually
addressed in the movie. A nice rack closer to the ground is still a nice
rack. Or maybe now that I have sagging man-teats of my own, I’m a little
more charitable. Based on the story of a real calendar in England, the
film follows the calendar from its small town inception to international
phenomena. Then for better and worse, it deals with some of the negative
fallout from the calendar’s success, and while this should’ve served to
give the movie a little depth, it’s dealt with in such a slipshod manner
that they would have been better off not bringing it up at all. For example,
Helen Mirren’s teen son is seen struggling with puberty only to turn around
and find his sexually confident mother naked all over the place. Is his
resulting rebellion dealt with or examined? Nope. It’s brushed off with
one line from his father at the end of movie. Better no depth than half-assed
depth.
EVERY TIME AN EGO-MANIACAL STAR BLOWS AN OSCAR CHANCE AN INDIE ANGEL GETS HIS WINGS Finally, only its last legs is The Last Samurai, down to number ten, and as some of you may well know, Tom Cruise was supposed to have the Jude Law role in Cold Mountain, but ultimately bowed out because they weren’t going to give him the kind of money he wanted. His people now say it was a matter of The Last Samurai or Cold Mountain, but Miramax and the director flat out tell you it was about money. This warms my heart, as even though The Last Samurai has outgrossed Cold Mountain, the latter obviously has more staying power and has gotten much better reviews, not to mention being Oscar bound, which is the only thing Tom Cruise really wants that he cannot have. Heh-heh-heh. THE SHOW THAT DARES NOT SPEAK ITS NAME
The L Word premiered on Sunday and if you’re a straight man or a gay
woman, your show has arrived. It makes an odd sort of sense now, considering
that the show for gay men and straight women (Sex & The City) is now leaving.
Like Sex & The City, this is pure fantasy. Six gay women with neither
a mullet or flannel shirt to be seen? Are you kidding me? Yes, I know
this is a stereotype, but it’s a stereotype you can see on the streets
daily in New York. What makes it really funny is that when they showed
one of the people behind the show, she turned out to be a short, stocky,
mulletted lesbian. Okay, so the skinny, femme, lipstick lesbian is everyone’s
fantasy it seems---or maybe this is just how it is in LA? I’d ask Chasing
Amy, but we’re no longer speaking and all my female friends who did play
both sides of the fence are married with kids now. This means I can’t
ask if gay women are actually no less predatory than anyone else. According
to this how “Hello” in a lesbian bar seems to mean “I’d like to fuck you”
just like it does every bar everywhere else. But the best part of this
is Mia Kushner. Why? Because if you’ve read any of her interviews since
she first popped up in Exotica all those years ago, she just won’t shut
up about how she likes women and how she thinks women are sexy and how
she’d like to be with a woman on a film. You know what that means? That
translates into: “I’d like to have sex with a woman, but I don’t want
to eat pussy.” Hey, who does? At least now that it’s her job to make
out with women, maybe now she’ll shut the fuck up about it. And when did
she get so hard looking? This is also a bit of a career saver for Jennifer
Beals, who’s actually admitting to being half-Black with Pam Grier being
cast as her half sister. Sorry, but I’m holding a grudge. When she was
on top, she was very vague about her ethnic origins (the way the half-Black
Vin Diesel is now), but now that she’s pushing 40, and grateful to be
on a cable TV show, that’s fallen by the wayside. The show itself really
doesn’t bear comparison to Sex & The City because 1) it’s not a comedy;
2) it’s not 30 minutes; and 3) IT’S ABOUT LESBIANS! Yes, Sex &
The City was really about gay men, but they pretended it was about women
and, as the show went on, women developed an equal voice (I still say
you can tell just by watching the shows when a guy did it an when a woman
did it). This is by lesbians and about lesbians. Straight boys like myself
may get a boner watching it (hey, I’m only human) but we can never say
“It’s really about us.” No, we only get shit shows like “Mind of the Married
Man.” In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize there’s no
good show for the straight guy about the straight guy. But honestly, as
long as there are shows where women get naked and have sex (Sex & The
City, The L Word) we really don’t care all that much. And while it’s hard
to judge a show by its first episode (if you did, Seinfeld and Sex & The
City wouldn’t fare very well), it wasn’t awful. Heavy handed to be sure,
but once the writers are they have steady jobs the writing should become
more relaxed. There’s nothing else to watch at Sunday’s at ten o’clock,
so I’ll probably be watching to see.
BUT SHE’S RUNNING THAT MOM BIT INTO THE GROUND Against my better judgment, I watched Margaret Cho’s performance movie, The Notorious C.H.O., and to her credit, she kept the politics to enough of a minimum that I wound up watching the whole show when I only planned on watching a few minutes. Though she’s got no business comparing herself to Richard Pryor (who was a fucking genius) she gets points for her joke that, if men had periods, the apartments of bachelors would look like murder scenes. Disgusting, yes. But she ain’t lying. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to have half the show not be about her sad sex life. Because I’m shallow and cruel I’m just going to come out and say that anything that even remotely pushes the audience to envision her naked is a bad, bad thing. YOU TOOK KATE, GREGORY AND JIMMY, BUT MICKEY ROONEY LIVES? Uta Hagen, Hope Lange, probably Spalding Gray and Ron O’Neal, Superfly himself. Death ain’t slowing down a bit for the New Year, now is she? Yeah, I know they haven’t found Spalding Gray yet, but given there was just an article in GQ about how he’d recently attempted suicide, I’m not saving up much hope.
ANYBODY CAN LOVE A SONG, ONLY A PRECIOUS FEW CAN PLAY IT TO DEATH
So for the last few weeks, I’ve been obsessed with the Damien Rice song “Volcano.” Yes, I know it came out months ago, but I make a rule never to listen to a song when I first see the video (I need to make up my own pretty pictures with my mind). Again, I taught myself to play it poorly on the guitar. It’s only a few chords, but they’re incredibly annoying. I’m also still obsessed with the “Defying Gravity” number from the musical Wicked to the point where I not only paid to download it, but I’m also thinking about actually walking the three blocks over to the theater and seeing it. But wait, it’s even more gay than you think. Currently, my man crush himself, Taye Diggs is currently appearing in the musical (the Wicked Witch of the West is played by his wife, Idina Menzel). Also, my recent excursion into dance/electronica has all but faded from memory with the exception of one song called “Deepest Blue” by the group Deepest Blue which was a club hit over the summer as well. Aside from the simple presence of actually lyrics, this is also notable because the group consists of two people, vocalist Joel Edwards and Matti Schwartz, who’s collaborated with the ever-great Massive Attack. Also, it uses the oldest dance bass line ever (it’s the same one you can hear in Kylie Minogue’s “Love At First Sight” which I liked more than “Can’t Get Outta My Head”) and it never, ever changes, not from the chorus to the verse or the bridge. Finally, the Young Girl who squealed with delight when I admitted to not only liking but buying Justin Timberlake’s album, and was beside herself with joy when I bought Britney’s new album, will now spontaneous combust when I announce that I also enjoy the work of JC Chasez (which actually means the work of Dallas Austin who does for him what The Neptunes do for Timberlake). It’s more Prince in the way that Timberlake’s work is more Michael Jackson, but that just makes it more interesting. Unfortunately, it makes it also less sellable in the way that Prince was never as successful as Michael Jackson---though also a freak and currently being sued in LA by one of the young, young girls he’s had over the years for forcing her into his decadent sexual lifestyle. What is it with singers and jailbait? At least Prince will wait for the legal age to come around. He met his former wife Mayte when she was 11 and Nona Gaye when she was 16. In any case, the JC Chasez song “Some Girls” is actually three songs in one. The verse, the bridge and the chorus are all completely different and don’t fit together at all. But I enjoy the oddness of it. Also, any song that both mocks girls who like make out with other girls in public while admitting a prurient interest has my vote. A PRETTY SKANK IS STILL A SKANK I was never a Naomi Campbell fan until I saw her Jamaica home on Cribs. Maybe it was the beauty of the settings that allowed me to overlook her hideous personality and see for the first time just how amazingly easy she is on the eyes. Either that or I was getting off the fact that it was originally Ian Fleming’s home and he wrote all the Bond novels there…wait, that is what was getting me off. Sorry, Naomi. Seems I can never overlook the fact that you voluntarily had sex with Mike Tyson. And Robert DeNiro. And Adam Clayton. And every eurotrash millionaire in Europe.
“DON’T DO THE CRIME/IF YOU’RE NOT WILLING TO BE RAPED IN PRISION/YEAH,
DON’T DO IT…”
So, Mystikal is getting six years for forcing his secretary to have sex with him. This warms my little heart as it signals good things for the new year. First him, then R. Kelly, then Michael Jackson. May all these nasty fuckers learn what “inappropriate sexual behavior” really means from a bunch of guys who also aren’t concerned with consent. IT’S NOT A TOP TEN UNLESS WE TALK ABOUT PORNOGRAPHY While we have yet to see new porn titles that equal the immortal “Splendor In The Ass” or my personal favorite, “Spankenstein” some performer names more than make up for it. While I’ve never seen her work (hell, I don’t even know what she looks like), her name entertains me enough. Ladies and gentleman, there is now a porn star going by the name Mary Kate Ashley. That’s even funnier than the girl who called herself Delicious Milano. 1/12/2004 George Raft turned down Casablanca, High Sierra, Dead End and The
Maltese Falcon, which all fell into the lap of Humphrey Bogart. John Travolta
turned down American Gigolo, An Officer and A Gentleman and Chicago, which
all fell into the lap of Richard Gere.
HE LIKES IT WEIRD AND NOT IN THE GOOD WAY Though it’s still in dispute, for now Big Fish has moved to the top spot and it’s going to take a lot for me to see this because I so hate Tim Burton. I have the sneaking suspicion that, despite this supposedly being about a son connecting with his dying father, what it eventually turns into is a well-shot chronicle of a bunch of oddities, which is a pretty accurate summation of Tim Burton’s entire career. Never will he choose a story or normal people over a look or a bunch of freaks. In retrospect, it was only Paul Reuben’s strong persona that allowed Pee Wee’s Big Adventure to be about Pee Wee and not the freaks around him. At least someone stopped him from his usual habit of casting ugly men in the leading roles. No, I will never, ever forgive the hideous casting of Michael Keaton as Batman, nor will I forget the casting of Nicholas Cage as Superman in that project that thankfully failed. What really bothers me about Tim Burton aside from his neglect of actually telling a story, is how he attempts to cling to his “freak” identity despite being a millionaire who dates skinny, large-breasted models (Lisa Marie) and actresses (Helena Bonham Carter, who just gave birth to their child). Sorry, but now you’re just a fucking poser. And an ugly one at that. LOOK OUT, HERE COME THE AMAZING SPIDER…WELL, JUST SPIDER
Lord of the Rings: Return of the King may be the number two movie this
week or it may remain number one. In any case, there are some very nice
special effects on hand here. More than just your simple CGI of weird
beasts, there are some shots of the city (whose stupid, made-up, pseudo
mythological name I’ve forgotten) that border on looking real, so nicely
is the blending of the real and the fantastic. Sad, but this is what I
think about when I think about what I liked in the movie. Oh, and the
giant spider. Listen, I understand the place of spiders in the world.
I understand that they kill all the other annoying bugs in the world,
so I’m never one to just kill them when I see them. But that doesn’t make
them any less creepy. They are, hands down, the creepiest bugs around.
And this movie has a giant one. Did I mention that it’s giant and INSANELY
FUCKING DETAILED!?! Did I really need that? No, I didn’t really need
that. That was the only sequence involving Frodo that didn’t have me checking
my watch. It was also the only scene where he wasn’t either whining, whimpering
or (yawn) fighting the influence of The Ring.
I LIKE TO PRETEND HE JUST DIED AFTER MAKING BOWFINGER Cheaper By The Dozen is down to number three and given that it’s crossed the $100M mark, Steve Martin will now be fighting Eddie Murphy for half-assed family flicks. I’m sure he was petitioning co-star Hilary Duff onset to play her father in virtually anything she does next. The only good thing I can say is that at least Bonnie Hunt’s worth is increasing. She’s been consistently funny for years now and got no reward for it, while Adam Sandler and his band of morons have been making millions upon millions. Too bad she had to whore herself out to stuff like this, though. Then again, she did write and direct the odious Return To Me (where she gave Jim Belushi a job as her husband), so maybe it’s just on TV where she’s good. LIKE FINE WINE Something’s Got To Give is down one notch to number four and who’d have thought a romantic comedy where the love interest is a 57-year-old woman would be knocking on the door of $100M? But don’t get your hopes up on a rash of “Older women” movies. This is going to be put down as fluke no matter how many times Nancy Meyers does it. She cast Helen Hunt as the love interest in the other wasted premise of What Women Want, but did you see her turn up in anything else as the object of someone’s desire? I don’t think Nancy Meyers is a good writer or director (she should just give her ideas to more talented people) but I will give her credit for consistently attempting age appropriate casting in her two times at bat as director. On the one hand, her success with this means she can continue. On the other, her success with this means she can continue to make her mediocre films. IN CHINA, A STAR; IN HOLLYWOOD, THAT WEIRD-LOOKING ASIAN GIRL Cold Mountain is down to number five and while this is the type of big-budget film Miramax makes to win awards, right behind it at number six is My Baby’s Daddy, the type of film Miramax uses to make money. Guarantee you Eddie Griffin doesn’t get the same kind of treatment Gwyneth Paltrow gets. But my question is where are Bill Cosby and Jesse Jackson to decry this film as being degrading to Black people (yeah, I know Michael Imperioli is in it, but that title phrase didn’t originate in Pennsylvania Dutch Country)? Oh, that’s right. Jesse Jackson is now actually “Some Baby’s Daddy” and Bill Cosby cheated on his wife and thought he was the same---until she tried to blackmail him and after two decades he broke down and took the blood test which proved she was not. But if you’re going to make this stupid kind of movie, why pussy out on the title? No one who is actually some baby daddy uses the apostrophe “s”. And if you doubt how men run the world, know that there’s no other way those ugly bastards could ever had impregnated the women playing their baby’s mothers. What must Bai Ling think when she looks at herself in the mirror now? Every time she returns home to China, there’s the chance will be thrown in prison for the rest of her life for daring to make a film critical of the government (Red Corner, which was hardly worth it) and this is her ultimate reward: having to kiss that ugly, fat bastard Anthony Anderson to pay the rent. A far cry from when she was banging Chris Isaak, to be sure. I’m sure she’s hoping being in the third Star Wars film will wash all this clean, but she probably had the same hopes for Wild, Wild West. Even more shocking is seeing Cheryl Dunye’s name as director, as she is a seriously indie minded director. I guess even artistes need plasma screen television sets. BUT WHO’S IN THE EDDIE ALBERT ROLE? Chasing Liberty opens at number seven and this could just as easily be called “Roman Holiday: American Style.” Yes, yet another variation of the princess who wants a break from being a princess and the handsome young man who knows who she is, but pretends not to. In this case it’s a secret service agent who strangely has an English accent. I’m a fan of Roman Holiday, so I considered seeing it---until I saw the runtime was close to two hours. Two fucking hours!?! This should have topped off at 90 minutes---including credits, commercials and trailers! Yeah, I know the real Roman Holiday topped off at seven minutes longer, but that was Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck directed by fucking William Wyler. This is a third rate Britney Spears, a poor man’s Hugh Grant and a sitcom director whose resume includes The Geena Davis Show, Quantum Leap and Platypus Man? And believe it or not, there’s another film called First Daughter coming up with Katie Holmes and chinless wonder, Michael Keaton as the president directed by Forest Whitaker---who also seeming also needed a plasma screen TV. AND NO ONE CRIES IN THIS ONE EITHER Paycheck is down to number eight and this is yet another lackluster result for John Woo and could this be it for his attempts to recreate his legend in Hollywood. Could it be that the people who rip him off now do it better than the master himself? It’s ironic considering that this is the one film where they finally stopped all that bullshit sentimentality (though he still managed to sneak in two fucking birds, at least they aren’t fucking doves) that they love in China, but we hate here, which is why we run the world and they now have to slaughter cats just to survive. His next film is about Chinese laborers in California in the 1800’s. How badly is that going to tank? Sad how neither he nor his star, Chow Yun Fat could really make it here. At least Woo has had the occasional hit with MI:2 and Face/Off. Chow never had even one. Heavy sigh. But I fucking loved The Replacement Killers. THE TWO LEADERS OF THE “I HATE TOM CRUISE CLUB” The Last Samurai is down to number nine and speaking of MI:2, the reason John Woo isn’t coming back for MI:3 is because he and Tom Cruise fought so much over it (these delays led to Thandie Newton being forced to give up the Lucy Liu role in Charlie’s Angels and Dougray Scott forced to give up the Wolverine role in X-Men). Cruise has gone back to directors he can control by hiring Joe Carnahan (the director of the amazing Narc, which Cruise co-produced) for the MI:3 after David Fincher committed to it for two seconds. Now that this has tanked, expect him to be extra-controlling. Heh-heh-heh. THE END Finally, Mona Lisa Smile closes out the top ten and every time a Julia Roberts crap movie fails, an angel gets his wings. TO CALL THEM AVERAGE IS TO BE KIND So Surrogate Sister loves the Average Joe, where they give a bunch of ugly guys a shot at hot girl who had no idea the guys were going to be hideous. If you think that’s cruel, it gets worse. Midway through the dating process, they bring in a group of actually good-looking guys to compete with them. This is why she feels sorry for them. Not me, baby. Aside from being a firm believer in not asking for what you cannot give (I don’t have a hard, flat stomach; I cannot insist upon a woman with a hard, flat stomach), it’s the simple fact that these morons so lack self-awareness. Geeks know that they’re geeks. Losers, however, have no clue that wearing a black suit with a black shirt is stupid (unless you’re in a band in 1984). I actually love that they bring in good looking guys to remind these fuckers just what they are, because let me tell you something, nothing is worst than a loser with delusions of grandeur. This I learned from the losers running comic book conventions when I was 13. Once these fuckers got one taste of power they turned in to a biggest, nastiest fascists you will ever see. Like the losers they were, they began to take out their frustrations on anyone they could. They totally justified all the shit they got during high school. Also, you could never do this show with one hot guy and a bunch of unattractive women. Unless booze or a wager is involved, no good-looking guy is going to do an ugly chick, period. And once they brought on the good looking people, it would so be over. He wouldn’t look at the ugly girls again. As a wise woman once said, “You can fall in love with a rich man just as easily as poor man.” Well, that works for looks too. Besides, being ugly doesn’t automatically make you smart or funny. I just happen to be that way, but your average Lord of the Rings fan is not. REAL MEAN HAVE SOFT SKIN AND SMELL NICE. WELL, THEY DO! So, Bed, Bath & Bodyworks had a sale and they were retiring one of my favorite body lotion scents (White Ginger & Amber), so I had to go (besides, I’m running low on Coconut Lime and Cucumber Melon). More than once have they taken away a nice lotion, never to be seen again, while shit that smells like Old Spice lingers on. This time I was going to stock up, even if it meant venturing out into the sub-zero weather. Unfortunately, it was a bit disappointing. Yes, I got my White Ginger & Amber at half price, but their regular lines had no sales. A visit to a second store allowed me to replenish my supply of Rice Flower & Shea, but Coconut Lime and Cucumber Melon were still at full price. Not to mention the ever-lovely, Rich Citrus Cream. And no, I don’t worry about this casting doubts upon my sexuality. First of all, few things are nicer than when a woman grabs your naked ass and is impressed by the softness of your skin. Secondly, nobody likes ashey (only Black people may get that). And finally, since the nut-crunching jeans incident, it’s pretty much a lock that I’m straight. I mean, obviously I can’t dress myself like I thought I could which is the ultimate sign of the straight man. Apparently, the gold Donna Karan duvet I just bought on ebay for my comforter (which was a room-contrasting Montgomery Plaid) is just some sort of weird fluke of good taste. But it doesn’t match the gold of my sari curtains. Sigh. NO MORE HOMEMADE PORN Despite my love of ebay, it has its drawbacks. First, when you sell, that means you have pack and ship. Always annoying. Also, ebay not only charges you a small fee to post, but takes a small percentage of your final selling price. It’s miniscule to say the least, but still… Also, if you use PayPal (which ebay wisely bought) it also takes a piece. With this in mind, I decided to try Craig’s List for selling my Mini-DV Video Camera. Sure enough, within a few days, it was gone for $250, cash munney to some filmmaker geek. No shipping involved. He hauled his ass to my apartment in the cold to get it. ebay can’t beat that. Now, what else is in this apartment that can get rid of cheaply? A PRETTY PICTURE OF…DEATH!
And the march of death continues into the New Year. The fashion
photographer, Francesco Scavullo, the man behind Cosmopolitan’s covers
for the last hundred years died. That super-cleavage look even on women
who have no cleavage? All him, baby. Also, Anita Mui and John Lone died,
showing that it’s not just America. Sneaking in just before the end of
2003 was Anita Mui, who was probably best known to most of you as the
annoying store owner in Rumble In The Bronx, but she was an action star
in her own right. She was one of the stars of The Heroic Trio, which also
starred eventual Bond Girl Michele Yeoh and Maggie Cheung (who ironically
turned down the Bond movie). John Lone, who is best known to most of you
as The Last Emperor---and that was it for him as lead roles go (Rule of
Hollywood: A Minority Actor’s Biggest Role Will Always Be In Bio-Pics).
He last popped up as the bad guy in Rush Hour 2. Not exactly how you want
your career to end, but it’s better than leaving on Bad Santa like John
Ritter.
1/5/2004
Trivia: You may know that Sigourney Weaver is Woody Allen’s date at the
end of Annie Hall and you may have recognized future Charlie’s Angel Shelly
Hack as the vapid girl in one of the scenes, not to mention Jeff Goldblum calling
about “losing his mantra.” You may even know that officer on the Dick Cavett
Show was Mark Lenard, who played Spock’s father, Sarek (not to mention a Romulan
and a Klingon), but very few people know the winner of the Truman Capote Lookalike
Contest was actually Truman Capote himself in an unbilled cameo.
NOW THAT YOU’RE GONE/ALL THAT’S LEFT IS A BAND OF GOLD… Lord of the Rings: Return of the King holds at number and all I can say is thank god it’s fucking over. I’m sorry, but even though I enjoyed all three films, there’s no reason whatsoever there needed to be three almost-three-hour films (and with all the cut footage that winds up on the DVD it’s literally over ten hours). So much of this shit could have been cut and never so much as here. I mean, when Frodo and Sam are falling down for the fortieth fucking time and lamenting about how they can’t go on, just who is so fucking dense to think they’re not going to get back up!?! They have to get back up! If they don’t, there’s no film! But you can’t tell this to those Tolkien geeks. Oh, no. “But it was in the book,” is their only reply. Well then the book needed a better editor because if it’s half as annoying on paper as it is onscreen… And how many fucking more times do we need to see Gollum argue with himself!?! I get that shit free on the streets of New York every day of the week! Dressing it up in a fantasy setting doesn’t suddenly make it entertaining. And while the battles are fun and I’ll undoubtedly watch them again on DVD, the thrill of them is long gone. And just how many men do these kingdoms have, because like the bad guys, they die by the dozens, but they never seem to run out. And if you hate saying goodbye to all these characters, then have no fear, because the filmmakers do too. There’s not one, not two, not three, but four fucking endings to this thing. What’s really sad is that it was cut from the book. I will never, ever read that shit. It’s one of the things that makes me King of the Geeks and not just another member of the rabble. Well, that and the fact I have seen pussy at least once since the day I was born. But only once. Girls are icky. ANIMATED, LIVE ACTION, REMAKES---THESE SLUTS WILL DO IT ALL! Cheaper By The Dozen holds at number three and Steve Martin has seemingly had the Eddie Murphy epiphany and decided he’d rather sell his soul to family films and be rich, rather than be well-respected and a has-been. Well, he’s still a has-been, but you get my point. To a certain extent, I can’t blame either one of them. Bowfinger was a damn funny movie but it tanked and soon afterwards Eddie Murphy did the equivalent of putting on a pair of cut-off, a tank top and some high heels and hit the Sunset Boulevard of box office success. Now Steve Martin is standing right beside him and you can hear Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls” throbbing in the background. And this is one soulless enterprise. From the casting of teen-bait Hilary Duffy and TV’s Clark Kent (Tom Welling) you can tell that. Not to mention the ultimate cheat of Ashton Kutcher. Soulless whore he now is, Steve Martin realized from working with Queen Latifah that no one was paying to see his ass and seriously stacked the deck. Hell, it could be Tom Selleck playing the father and this film would be doing the same (if not better, as at least you could believe he could be Superman’s dad and why Bonnie Hunt would let him knock her up so many times). THE TITLE COULD SUM UP HER CAREER GOALS AT THIS MOMENT Something’s Gotta Give is actually up one notch this week to number three and you know Amanda Peet has her fingers crossed this time. After all, she was supposed to be the next “hot young thing” four years ago when The Whole Nine Yards Hit, but nothing happened for her but a lame WB TV show called “Jack & Jill” which came before The WB got their “Dawson’s Creek-Smallville-Everwood” formula down pat, so it did her no good. Then she tried the indie route and now she’s back again for a rare second grasp at the brass ring (there’s also a sequel to The Whole Nine Yards coming). It’s definitely the last shot for her too, because I’m sure I’m not the only person who realized how sad it is that Moria Kelly is now playing the mother of a teen hottie on One Tree Hill. It was fucking yesterday when she was the star of every teenage girl’s favorite film, The Cutting Edge (which, coincidentally was directed by Paul Michael Glaser, who is also in Something’s Gotta Give). Now she’s someone’s mom? A chill ran down the spine of ever thirty-something actress in Hollywood when that got out. Also, Amanda Peet’s breasts, which were on generous display in The Whole Nine Yards, seem to have had that limited loan from gravity because they’re already sagging like no one’s business. When I saw her onscreen horribly braless in a t-shirt, part of me longed to scream out, “For your sake and ours, put on a fucking bra!” But her ultimate indignity is to wind up with the biggest loser in the world at the end of this film in one of its four endings. The guy they ultimately pair her off with is like the guy they call when David Schwimmer can’t make it. Yeah, that bad. I CAN’T GIVE UP 2 1/2 HOURS FOR BAD SOUTHERN ACCENTS JUST YET Oscar bait supreme, Cold Mountain is down to number four and I will eventually see this. If for nothing else, it will give me weeks of bitching material, because nothing so annoys me as cold, calculated Oscar bait. Besides, I hated The English Patient and this is from the same director who goes through the motions of making epics films, but fails to give them heart because he’s trying so hard to make them “look” right. I have the sneaking suspicion this will be no exception. Also, I like Renee Zellweger and I’m getting to the point where I’ll watch her in almost anything (almost meaning no holocaust movies or caper films). This is also Jude Law’s second big try at leading man status, made all the more urgent since his hairline quickly went the way of his marriage. It ain’t going to be getting any better, so he’s got to get his now. ODDLY ENOUGH, TOTAL RECALL WOULD HAVE BEEN A PERFECT TITLE Paycheck is down to number five and this joins Terminator 3 as an unlikely, big-budget science fiction movie that I actually enjoyed much more than things I was supposed to really enjoy (can you say Lord of the Rings?). Sorry, but it’s straightforward entertainment and pretty well done, with few of the annoying flourishes John Woo is know for (though the gun face off is here just like always. Granted, as certain amount of logic does say “bye-bye” from the beginning, but once you except that, it’s big fun. Also, it’s rare that you get his type of non-techno science fiction. No robots, no aliens and nothing that conceivably isn’t right around the corner technologically speaking. And while I hate to admit it, it’s got a bit of Hitchcock North By Northwest in it, all the way down to Ben Affleck’s very fifties type of suit. What it needed was a bit more humor as North By Northwest is almost a parody of chase suspense films. It does give you a blonde though, which Hitchcock would have loved. Unfortunately, Uma Thurman has seen better days, as she’s got some hard looking time on her face now. See what you’ve done, Ethan Hawke!?! Or maybe we can blame Quentin Tarantino for what he put her through making Kill Bill? The film is also burdened with one of the worst titles since Bowfinger. Nothing about “Paycheck” says science fiction suspense adventure. And the commercials and trailers suck on a equal level. Someone got paid to do that shit, while I crank this stuff out to you people for free. Life is just so unfair. UGLY WOMEN IN A BAD MOVIE Mona Lisa Smile is down to number six and I’m sorry, roommate, but I just can’t see this piece of shit. Not even for you. Yes, my roommate is somewhere in this as an extra, but I simply hate Julia Roberts and her throbbing temple vein (which lets you know she’s “acting”) too much to support her this way. Besides, I make all the theater gigs, so I think we can let this one go. Not to mention that aesthetics certainly weren’t a factor when they cast this, now were they? Julia Roberts, Julia Stiles, Kirsten Dunst and Maggie Gyllenhaall? No models in this one, baby. And I like Julia Stiles and Maggie Gyllenhaall. But I’m not going to confuse them with Angelina Jolie any day soon. They ain’t pretty. Get over it. So ugly chicks with Julia Roberts in what looks to be an incredibly clichéd, wannabe feminist treatise that’s almost two hours? I don’t think so. The ultimate crime of this is that this is what Mike Newell was doing when he should have been directing Love Actually. AND THERE’S NO SINGING IN EITHER---THANK GOD Peter Pan is down to number seven and what you’ve heard is true: adolescent sexuality hangs heavy over this latest version of the book. But unless you’re a moron, you know it’s always been there (the book is actually called “Peter Pan and Wendy”), only the constant casting of women in the Pan role have kept it under wraps (or took it in a direction only certain little girls understood…right, Ellen?). Oddly enough, the Disney version is seriously sexualized, especially when you remember what Tinkerbell and Tiger Lilly looked like. Casting a 14-year-old boy and 13-year old girl (with the kind of full lips women pay thousands to acquire) who are just two seconds away from getting their first pubes just leaves you no choice in facing the erotic undercurrent that’s always been there. The film is slow at times and the advances in special effects aren’t used to their fullest potential, but one thing they do get right is that despite his protests, Peter Pan chooses Wendy because he’s going through the throes of adolescent love and lust. Part of him actually wants to grow up, even though we know he eschews it in the end. And Tinkerbell has always been a jealous potential murderess. How that got passed off as “innocent” I’ll never understand. In fact, the author J.M Barrie stated that he wrote the book for adults, but when you make a film about fairies and pirates something gets lost in the translation. Also, no one ever got around to making a movie about how Peter Pan became lost to his parents in the beginning (Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens) and couldn’t go home. That’s hardly a happy fairy tale. I’D SAY HE WAS ALREADY ON HIS KNEES, BUT HE’S SO SHORT IT JUST LOOKS THAT WAY The Last Samurai is down to number eight and desperation has set in for this film, as the commercials are no longer about the film but are all Tom Cruise talking about how much this film meant to him. Simply put: he’s begging you to go see it. Heh-heh-heh. Time to crank up Mission Impossible 3, kids. It’s going to be killer at Oscar time if the better-reviewed Cold Mountain---in which he was originally supposed to star before choosing this---gets more nominations. SO IF THEY WERE YOUNG AND ATTRACTIVE IT WOULD MERELY BE PORN? Calendar Girls is down to number nine and this is based on a well-known calendar in England, where women of a certain age pose strategically nude in a calendar for charity. It became an unlikely hit and is now an actual “event” in England when it comes out every year. I hate to say it, but given how the English age, just how horrible is that calendar? Even though they carefully hide the valuables (supposedly with some degree of wit) it’s still 12 months of naked, wrinkled, pale flesh that no one not obligated by love, law or duty should see. Sadly, this has crossed the Atlantic and some ugly old men in New England have done it too. I know it’s a joke, but a joke lasts a few seconds. It doesn’t spend a year on your wall making you think about your own mortality and future with white pubic hair. LAST ROUND IN THE CHAMBER AND IT’S A DUD Finally, Bad Santa makes what is hopefully its final appearance in the top ten. For the sake of his memory, I hope John Ritter made at least one more film to be released after this. This is not the one you want to die on. Hell, Hero At Large would have been better. LIKE REAL SEX, SOME PEOPLE DON’T KNOW WHEN TO QUIT AND GET SOME SLEEP So, Sex & The City started it’s final eight episodes on HBO last night and it actually surprised me by dealing with the issue of Blair Underwood being unceremoniously dumped by Cynthia Nixon. Especially since he lives in the same building. The scene of the stairs was a bit much, but then again, not everyone follows my route of crying the fetal position in the wake of being dumped. They also vaguely touched on the single most annoying aspect of the show for the last six years; that Sarah Jessica Parker’s character is one of the most self-involved, narcissistic people ever to be on television. She essentially abandons her “blind” friend to buy new shoes for her date. Whenever you doubt her right to her Emmys remember how much you like the character, even though she’s actually pretty fucking horrible. But I’m glad it’s wrapping up. It should have ended a year ago, but at least they aren’t stretching it out like the fucking X-Files. I’m still scarred by that. ONE MORE TIME: YOU’RE PAYING FOR SEX, YOU LOSER! Cathouse 2 on HBO. Don’t tell me there’s a god now. Apparently the first special about the biggest legal whorehouse in America did pretty well for both HBO and the whorehouse, so here’s a second one. And it’s just a skin crawling as the first. Like a traffic accident, you know it’s going to be horrible, but still you look. I will never cease to be amazed by people who are willing to be on TV, no matter what. I mean, YOU’RE PAYING FOR SEX! YOU’RE LETTING THE WORLD WATCH YOU PAY FOR SEX! What the fuck is your problem!?! Then again, if you can’t get laid for the $2000 you’re paying these hard, tired-looking whores, you’re beyond the judgment of the average man. Hell, for under a hundred you can get some the best tequila ever made and then it’s only a matter of time. But this one guy is supposedly a financial advisor in Manhattan. How could he not get laid in this city full of unrepentant golddiggers (male and female)? Well, he’ll be wishing he saved his money after this one airs, because his clients are going to disappear. After all, who could take advice from a man so obviously stupid. I mean how dumb is he to pay for those nasty whores when some of the top hookers in the world work here? And if you thought the mom who bought her future serial killer a whore in the first one was bad, this time a dad buys his son some pussy RIGHT ALONG SIDE HIM! What. The. Fuck!?! Now, the old woman I had sympathy for, but the rest are freaks and losers. And lazy freaks and losers at that. The couple who wanted another woman to join them in a threeway? Since when has it been difficult to find another girl for that? Hello, it’s called Drunk Sorority Girl Desperate For Any Kind of Attention. Hell, even I could get that together. Also the real freaks who need hookers were never shown. Real couples who have to pay for threeways look like Rosanne and John Goodman. Not like the semi-normal looking pair shown. Even the male stripper looked old and hard. At the very end they mention that some of the people on camera were paid. In other words, money helped them overcome their very rational fear of being seen at a whorehouse. Horrible. Can’t wait for the third one. SO THE “E” I TOOK WASN’T A VITAMIN? So, thanks to my video games I’ve acquired a taste electronic and dance music and spent a few hours illegally downloading what was big over the past year (like “Deepest Blue” by Deepest Blue) and what I’ve heard on my games. What’s really weird is realizing that I’ve actually got shit like Groove Armada, Carl Cox and The Crystal Method already in my cd collection. That Paul Oakenfold is good goes without saying, but this guy B.T. is simply great I will actually pay money to buy his CD now. Maybe some Basement Jaxx too, but Fischerspooner simply leaves me cold. But make no mistake: it all sounds the same and definitely needs the affect of drugs to make it all complete. God knows you can’t fuck to it, which is why R&B will always be the greatest dance music in the world. No good sex is happening at 100 bpm like these drugged out club kids like their music. Thank god. It’s all that’s keeping them from reproducing. I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS---AND THE RIDICULE THAT FOLLOWS So, I went home for Christmas. As always I had a full head of hair and like always, the attacks on my person began almost as soon as I touched down. Last Christmas my parents gave me a black suede shirt that’s simply too good for me, so I never wear it. My Surrogate Sister (she hates that name, which is why it will never change) said I just need to get some “cool” jeans. So I made that request to my sisters for Christmas. Their response? To make me buy them myself when I got home. Gee, thanks. As it turns out, my sisters had been waiting a long time for me to do this. It seems my choice in jeans since I was 16 is a sore spot with them. Aside from the tapered legs (I swear I was simply trying to buy straight legs) they thought all my jeans were too tight in the crotch. “Nut-huggers” and “nut-crunchers” became the popular terms in use. I maintain my jeans are very comfortable to me. They have to be. I wear fucking boxers. I need all the room I can get. I simply have very large balls. That’s it (my penis, however, remains frighteningly small). Nonetheless, I relented and have now replaced all my jeans with the kind of shit I see when I walk past the high school in the morning. “Low rise” “loose fit” “boot cut” and “relaxed” now are on the label of virtually everything I own. I look at them and feel like one of those pathetic old guys trying to dress young. Like I should be skateboarding somewhere. That little experience aside, my visit was normal. Sleep 12 hours a day and spend my waking hours eating. One day I had a whole steak, followed a few hours later by leftover barbeque pork ribs and barbeque chicken and doughnuts and Lucky Charms to top it off. I went about five days without eating a vegetable. The only thing that kept me from ballooning up was the fact that half the time I was unconscious. I returned the same weight I left (not that I’m not still a fat bastard). As always, a trip to Georgia meant a trip to Birmingham to see my grandmother and eat with my family there. I’m both proud and dismayed that I’m not the only funny member of my family. Two of my cousins have grown into men with a dry, cutting wit. Even more disturbing are the four women who have replaced my four little girl cousins. One of whom is graduating from college next year and has set her sights on New York. Oh, god. I just got rid of a sister. Do I need this? But I’ve found my true spirit alive in one of my youngest cousins. She doesn’t like people and will look at you like you’re crazy if you suddenly start talking to her. She prefers to sit alone in her room and read. Also, she just got a guitar this year. Yes, the force is strong in that one. As always, there’s one moment funnier than all the others to mark the moment. This time, it was the assembled grandchildren discussing my grandmother’s dark side, revealed in her dislike of pretty much anyone any of her children or grandchildren dated. It seems none of you fuckers are good enough for anyone of her blood. I’m not saying she’s wrong, but it’s a shock to hear that your grandmother once lamented that you mother “trapped” your father and you were that trap. Okay. Suddenly the well-stocked liquor cabinets in everyone’s home was explained. In fact, I had a martini just writing this. ‘BEAT’S SO LONELY..” While shopping in The Gap for new jeans (I rue the day they ever gave me a Gap Card; it just makes it too easy to go there), I actually heard fucking Charlie Sexton playing. Charlie Sexton! If you kids don’t know him, don’t feel bad. For one hot moment in the 80’s he was going to be the next-big-thing, coming from the then-hot spot of Austin, Texas. Actually, he was simply another in a series of people imitating David Bowie, not realizing the original was still around to fill that gap. I’m sure he’s now working in a gas station somewhere, while the Thin White Duke is turning down knighthoods. SOMEWHERE BILL GATES IS SMILING In news that was warming my heart even before Bad Influence sent me a link to it, the Macintosh users of the world are uniting to file a class-action lawsuit against Apple for the pretty, yet trouble-ridden shit they make. Yes, my powerbook (Jennifer) is beautiful and nice and works wonderfully. But right out of the box it required over a thousand dollars worth of repairs and I didn’t have it for three weeks. And I hear ipods go to hell right after the warranty ends. Time to stop putting style above substance, people. Yes a thin, sleek computer is nice, but if it means overheating and breakdowns, then slap another inch on it for god’s sake. Size matters when it comes to performance! RENCONTREZ LES PARENTS Speaking of powerbooks, the woman who gave me my first Apple, my macgoddess, The French Woman, was in town this week and only for her would I venture into Rockefeller Center amidst all the tourists. It was last year I visited her in Connecticut and attended an actual party, and a few years ago I flew to California and went hiking, so she obviously has a very bad influence on me. She was there with her family who keep all those legends about the French being better looking than the rest of us alive. The first time I saw her dad he looked like he walked out of a Ralph Lauren ad, silver-haired with a denim shirt on. Her mother, I swear, just gets better looking every year (mom also owns a hair salon which is why she had no gray hair but her daughter did). They may make her crazy, but they’ve given her very good genes. With them I made my first venture in Cartier on Fifth Avenue. You know you’re of a lower class when million-dollar jewelry looks fake to you. The weirdest thing is, after a while, you get so used to the prices, that everything under a hundred grand starts sounding reasonable. My favorite part about the day was how when her parents tired of a place, that was it. The next thing you now they were out the door and you were chasing after them. “Okay, enough of Cartier,” and poof, she was out the door. Very amusing. Of course, it’s always funny when it’s not your parents. Which is why none of you fuckers are meeting my mom and dad.