APRIL '04 ARCHIVE

4/26/04

“Delay is preferable to error.” --- Thomas Jefferson

BURN BABY, BURN

Man on Fire opens at number one and is actually a remake. The first Man on Fire starred Scott Glenn and Joe Pesci and was set in Italy, but it was the same producer. I actually caught some of it on cable last month, but it’s got such an ugly look to it (a good portion of that ugliness being Joe Pesci and Joe Pesci alone), I couldn’t stay with it. This is much, much slicker, courtesy of Tony Scott, more proof that Mr. & Mrs. Scott should have practiced birth control. I swear the man does not have one single static shot throughout the film. Granted, if he decided the story wasn’t enough to hold someone’s interest he wouldn’t be far from wrong, but that means a rewrite, not drag out every single fucking camera trick in the book until you think you’re watching the most pretentious videos ever on MTV while on acid. Needless to say, if you throw enough shit at the wall, something will stick and what does work is the nice use of sub-titles (amazingly, they have people actually speaking Spanish in Mexico, rather than accented English). Rather than your typical “at the bottom” type of thing, they’re all over the screen and their size matches the urgency in which they’re used. And after the little girl is kidnapped, Denzel still “sees her” all over Mexico City, which could had been a nice, spooky effect had it been one of few effects used. As it is, it’s effect #716 out of a thousand. And goddamn if he isn’t using that same filter he’s been using since Top Gun, the crappy movie that served to inflict Tony Scott on us twenty years ago. The actors do their job well. Denzel as your typical “haunted ex-super soldier”; Christopher Walken as his well-adjusted buddy trying to help him, Marc Anthony and Radha Mitchell (showing she’s ready to play those icy, sexy blonde roles Sharon Stone is now too old and crazy for) as the parents and Dakota Fanning finally not creeping me out as the little girl at the center of it all. She’s playing a little girl this time instead of a 40-year-old trapped in the body of a little girl. Unfortunately, the film requires her to disappear while Denzel wreaks untold havoc on those involved in her kidnapping. Actually, this movie briefly becomes the movie The Punisher should have been. Denzel is also an ex-soldier with an impressive resume, but he actually acts like one. When he goes to war, he turns into a cold, calculating killing machine. In the film’s most harrowing scene, he questions a corrupt police officer involved in the kidnapping by taping his hands to the car’s steering wheel, separating them and then cutting them off one by one, then cauterizing the stump with the car’s cigarette lighter. DAMN! In comparison, in The Punisher only pretends to take a blowtorch to a guy. Pussy. Then there’s the guy who gets plastique explosive up his ass. I’m not kidding. But once the cold, bloody revenge stops and the stupid story of supposed redemption starts again, the story falters. You really can’t have a story about a man looking for redemption and rediscovering faith as he chops some guy’s fingers off. And there’s some bullshit about the girl giving Denzel a medallion of St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. How is using extreme violence to seek revenge a lost cause? It’s actually very effective way to see your ends met. Now, using love and compassion to fight kidnappers, that’s a lost fucking cause. There’s a twist at the end that you should see coming from a mile away and it ultimately makes no fucking sense at all if you think about it.

AND THEN THERE’S THE FACT SHE NOW HAS A “MONTHLY VISITOR”

13 Going On 30 opens at very close number two (and may actually be number one once the counting is done) and this very blatant take on Big makes me wonder why someone hasn’t sued? Believe it or not, but I was not a fan of Big because 1) that whole “mom thinks he’s been kidnapped” subplot ruined any attempt for it to be lighthearted for me; and 2) what’s with this bullshit view of how great it was to be young? Let’s face it, the best thing about childhood is that it fucking ends and 13 is the beginning of one of the worst periods of your life if you’re not lucky. This is when the hormones kick it, but the maturity only catches up a decade or two later. If a cure for AIDs could be had if only I would relive being 13, then you fuckers would still be wearing condoms (and running from sleazy people with strange coughs) tomorrow, because it ain’t gonna happen. Unlike Big, this seems to be a girl who wakes up 16 years later to discover she hasn’t quite become the person she wanted to be and it’s up to the 13-year-old in her to make it right. What. The. Fuck. Do these people actually know 13-year-olds? If anything, they would be meaner. The virtue/curse of children is that they don’t hold anything back. Hell, that’s how we tell immature adults, by their lack of foresight and impulse control. Not to mention I’m not a Jennifer Garner fan either. That’s a man, baby! This effort to place her as the new Julia Roberts is vehicle films only proves my Theory of Celebrity Mediocrity. America prefers its stars not to outshine them too much. Just as it loved the equine, untalented Juila Roberts, it now loves the equine, manly, more talented (yeah, I’ll give her some actual acting chops) Jennifer Garner.

BLONDE AGAINST BLONDE---AND NOT IN THE GOOD WAY EITHER

Kill Bill is down to number three and supposedly Uma Thurman and Daryl Hannah had to be kept apart during the promotional tour of this and at premieres. Well, I can see that. When you’re tall, blonde and considered desirable (sorry, but to me Uma looks like a fish and Daryl looks like a man, but I’m not some fratboy dealing with latent homosexual feelings), you don’t appreciate it when someone just as tall, just as blonde and considered just as desirable shows up. And in Daryl’s case, that person has larger breasts, is younger and actually scored an Oscar nomination. But I still think Daryl Hannah has the trump card. “Me, JFK Jr. You, Ethan Hawke.” Advantage, Hannah.

EVEN WORSE: NOVELS BASED ON COMIC BOOKS

The Punisher is down to number four and believe it or not, I’m actually happy when comic book movies fail because it means they’ll hesitate before trying another, especially when the character is lesser known, like a Daredevil or a Punisher. Also, when the movies succeed, they fuck the books over to make it match, as if your average moviegoer is suddenly going to venture into a comic book store and start buying. Please. I’m a comic reader and the stink of geek in the average store tends to give me pause. Trust me: nobody saw this and thought, “Hmm, I’d like to read further adventures of that intriguing character.” Too bad, because the one great thing from the comic books that was left out, perhaps for being too unsavory for this pussy-ass little movie, was that Frank Castle was always fucking crazy. When the character was first created in the 70’s, he was a Vietnam vet and stories about him in Vietnam show he wasn’t very different. The deaths of his family only threw him back in to killing mode. It didn’t create it. Besides, the people who’d read this kind of crap already read the character Marvel ripped off for The Punisher: Mack Bolan, The Executioner. It’s a series of books by Don Pendleton. Mack Bolan was also a soldier who lost his family to the mob and set off on a one man killing spree, keeping a “war journal” of his activities. I still don’t know why Pendleton didn’t sue. Probably because The Punisher didn’t make any money until the 80’s, and by then it was too late.

RUMORS OF ITS DEATH ARE GREATLY EXAGGERATED

Home on the Range is holding at number five, which is kind of odd considering it’s supposed to the movie signaling the death knell of hand-drawn animation. Hell, even the odious Brother Bear made $85M US and $189M worldwide, so don’t start throwing dirt on that coffin just yet. But if they keep casting people as annoying as Roseanne and letting Phil Collins do music, then you might want to order that headstone.

IT COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE. IT COULD HAVE BEEN LARRY DAVID.

Johnson Family Vacation is down to number six, followed by Scooby Doo 2 at number eight and Hellboy at number nine and what the fuck is Jeffery Tambor doing in this movie? Forget that his character is horribly written and defined (paranormal threats are real, but he hates his best weapon against them---yeah, that makes sense), it’s like having Seinfeld pop up in Blade (“Did you ever notice how vampires are never fat? What’s that about?”). I kept expecting him to say “Hey, now.”

YOU CHEAP, GODDAMN BASTARDS

Ella Enchanted cost about $35M and most of it had to go to the special effects in the film, not to mention buying the rights to use Queen’s “Somebody To Love” but I’m not gonna tell you shit about it. Go buy my goddamn reviews, you cheap bastards!

WELL, MAYBE THAT’S WHY HE’S CALLED “THE ROCK”

Finally, Walking Tall closes out the top ten at number ten and The Rock has fortunately chosen his next role more carefully: he’s going to be in the sequel to Get Shorty and he’ll be playing a closeted gay football player. This is good, because he’s not a bad actor and if his skit on SNL is any clue, he’ll pull this off. Not to mention his gay following will be thrilled. I’ve been told that his half-Back, half-Samoan background means one thing to the gay community: “horse cock.” Well, all-righty then, but I think you might get more women in the audience if you played that up. At least the women I know. Also, he’s just a supporting player, which means carrying the film is not his responsibility, so as long as he comes off well, it’ll be good for him. But he really needs to stay away from these dumb action movies.

STILL CRAZY AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

If you read Prince’s interview in Entertainment Weekly, you realize, sadly, that his grip on reality has not returned despite this so-called “comeback.” I guarantee you his accountants told him he could no longer afford to be as weird as he’d like. I haven’t bought the new album and I doubt I ever will if “Musicology” is a sign of what the rest of it is like. See, Prince finally lost his mind with the ascendancy of hip-hop. Why? Well, when it came to original music he one of the very best, so to be out-sold by guys recycling old music and talking over it just drove him crazy. First, he bad-mouthed it like every old fart in the world, then he tried his own horrible attempts to co-opt it. Does anyone remember the horror of “Kat, we need you to rap?” off the otherwise good album “Lovesexy”? Not to mention his own rapper “Tony M” from the days of “Diamonds & Pearls” and when he first started using that stupid symbol. And now he’s insisting that this isn’t a comeback. Well, actually he’s right. IT’S A FUCKING OLDIES TOUR! This is no different than the original Duran Duran lineup touring last year. In fact, Prince was one step away from state fairs and a VH1 special trying to reunite him with his original band. Speaking of which, I love the bit in the article where they talk to former members of the Prince camp and everyone is being diplomatic, though they’ve said worse in other interviews. But where’s Terry Lewis & Jimmy Jam, who Prince fired from The Time back in the 80’s because they missed a gig while off producing The SOS Band in Atlanta? Their success has totally eclipsed his so they don’t have to varnish their comments. And Andre Cymone, Prince’s childhood friend who was with him during the first three albums, before going off to marry and produce Jodi Whatley during her 80’s peak? He’s very, very bitter, claiming Prince stole from him. Yeah, that’s why I’m one of two people who remembers you, Andre. But I was excited to see Morris Day will have a new album coming out. If we’re lucky, it’ll be a mini-Time reunion, with Lewis & Jam contributing their services the way they did over a decade ago with “Fishnet.” Yes, I’m obviously a Prince fan and so it hurts me to see him like this. It was so much better when he didn’t give interviews. That way we’d be spared him whining about covers of his songs, when he’s done bad covers himself (“Betcha By Golly Wow” why?); his insistence than no one pushed the envelope further than he did (well, Prince, there’s this woman named Madonna…) his obsession with young artists who are now successful and just the fact that this great artist is past his prime and out of his fucking mind. Not since Woody Allen turned into a dirty old man who makes bad movies have I been so disappointed.

CRISIS AT PORN CENTRAL

So, I was asked why I didn’t mention the minor crisis in the porn business that was national fucking news. Well, I thought with the whole Christy Canyon story, it would have been overload. But since I was asked by man and woman alike… If you ever question just how big porn is, note how much coverage this incident got (I trust we all read the New York Times article), as well as a response from the state government in California. Also note that the reaction wasn’t “now’s our chance to get rid of it” but “we have to clean it up a bit.” Know why? I’ll give you 10 billion reasons a year why. I’ll give you more money than Major League Baseball why. And those are just the legit porn operations, not the underground shit. And almost all that comes out of Cali, which means those $10 billion dollars go into California. They are not going to fuck with that. Especially when it’s a recession proof industry. Basically what happened is, a male star went to do a shoot in Brazil, came back and tested positive a few weeks later on his monthly HIV test. Needless to say, in that time, he’d been working and not only was every girl he worked with at risk, but every man who’d worked with this girls. As it stands, only one girl was in infected, but it’s still horrible because she was only 19 and had only been working for four months. The way she was infected is especially sad. She showed up to work with the guy on something already unsafe (can you say simultaneous front and backdoor entry?) and was told she had to do something super-unsafe (can you say double backdoor entry, which is incredibly homoerotic and makes me wonder why the girl is there at all?) or not work at all. The guy directing, who was also in the scene, told her it was do the super-unsafe scene or she could take a walk (not that you can walk after something like that). Being young and stupid, she didn’t know that it was bullshit, because YOU CAN’T HAVE A SEX SCENE WITHOUT THE GIRL! Now, I blame that fucker more than the guy who actually gave the virus, because he really didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t know he was infected. It was the director who truly screwed the girl over, and now she’s got to redefine her life at 19. Shit, I couldn’t do that right now. And yes, Sharon Mitchell now has a PhD and runs the clinic that sees to the health concerns of porn stars. If you know who she is, not only are you dirty, but you’re old and dirty.

SPRINGTIME IN PARIS

So, I finally saw the whole 40 minute Paris Hilton tape, which is headed to a video store near you and I have to say I came away with some sympathy for the dumb bitch. Sorry, but once you see what a dumb fuckhead this guy really is, and realize he was 30 at the time, whereas she was only 19, you’ll see my point. We all do dumb things at 19. It’s the purpose of fucking being 19, to do dumbass things. The only difference is hers was taped. The person who doesn’t have an excuse is Shannen Dougherty, who married this moron and defends him on a regular basis. It’s one thing for a dumbass 19-year-old to mistake this moron as cool. It’s something else entirely for a 30-year-old woman to decide to marry him.

HOT FOR TEACHER

My attempts to shameless suck up to my Hot Yoga Instructor continue as I asked her for any book recommendations and bought the definitive text, called “Light On Yoga.” It’s a little denser than I’d anticipated (I was hoping for a big picture book just showing me forms), but I have to read it if I’m going to make small talk before and after class. And after taking every chance to study that ring on her finger, I’ve concluded it’s neither an engagement ring or wedding band. Just some dumb ring. But then I saw her get into a car with some guy and a drive off. Sigh. One step forward, two steps back. But this makes a full month I’ve been going to the gym regularly, swimming aerobics and yoga. I only missed one night of swimming to see Kill Bill Vol. 2. Do I feel better? No. Am I looking better? I don’t think so. I see myself naked and still think “mudslide.” Have I lost weight. Not really. I refuse to give up cheese and cake after midnight, so not much is happening. In fact, I lost more during my brief depression over alienating another friend. Will I continue? I don’t know. I think I’ve earned some slack time now. Not to mention Hot Yoga Instructor hasn’t been braless since that first time. Motivation is slipping.

I WANT CANDY

I have food obsessions. Not my cheese addiction, I mean phases where I eat the same thing daily until I burn out on it. Sushi, cupcakes, jambalaya…whatever. My new thing is courtesy of my roommate, who was given those Jelly Belly jellybeans for Easter. If you don’t know them, they’re the kind that come in unique flavors like Pina Colada, watermelon, cotton candy, lemon-lime, pear, French vanilla, orange cream, etc. They’re great and when something is great, it’s usually not cheap. These fuckers are $7 a pound and I can’t stop eating them. I ate all my roommate’s and when I replaced them, I bought some for myself…and quickly ate them. Then I bought some during the day…and quickly ate them. I had a few before going to yoga at 9am. I’m eating them as I write this. I’ve got a little carrying case with some in it. Sigh. Men who don’t go to the dentist can’t afford obsessions like this.

TELL ME LIES, TELL ME SWEET LITTLE LIES

Finally, if you don’t know what Kevin Spacey was doing in a park in the wee hours of the morning talking to a young man who stole his cell phone, or why he only takes his mother to the Oscars, then there’s not much I can do for you. Best you just keep thinking Rock Hudson was a babe hound, that Whitney Huston “just says no” to drugs and that’s Britney really singing in concert. You’re obviously not ready for the truth.

4/19/04

“To win a woman in the first place one must please her, then undress her, and then somehow get her clothes back on her. Finally, so that she will allow you to leave her, you’ve got to annoy her.” --- Jean Giraudoux

AT LEAST THERE’S NO MONOLOGUE ABOUT MADONNA

Kill Bill Vol. 2 opens at number one this week and it was improbable that it could ever hope to match the kinetic frenzy of the first volume, with it’s over-the-top fight scenes, animated sequences and neverending series of pop-culture references. Granted two of those three are here, but at fewer BPM. We finally meet and see Bill, the titular villain, but after Lucy Liu, he’s a bit boring, not to mention lacking an anime origin story and some really neat flunkies. Then again, Lucy Liu, Uma Thurman and the rest would have been his really neat flunkies once upon a time, so I guess there’s a reason. The best part of this film isn’t the final confrontation with Bill (of course she kills him; it ain’t called Fighting Bill), but the sequence where we learn where she got part of her training. The fight with Daryl Hannah coming in a close second (two tall, skinny blondes with swords; that’s someone’s nightmare or sexual fantasy and I can’t decide which). I, for one, would have preferred an origin as extensive as Lucy Liu’s, but it seems Tarantino only had one of those in him. This movie should have been cut down and simply one feature released. There’s a whole lotta useless shit that goes on that never should have left the page. I mean, in a movie about Uma Thurman’s quest for revenge, do we really need a ten-minute sequence about Michael Madsen’s troubles working as a bouncer in a strip club, featuring the son of Joey Bishop? I don’t think so. And if you saw the first you know her daughter is still alive and figures prominently in it and it’s not to the movie’s advantage. We also have our usual Tarantino riffs on popular culture, where a character suddenly displays an uncharacteristic in-depth knowledge of pop culture. In this case, you know a colossal waste of time is coming when David Carradine say, “You know how much I love comic books…” Sigh. And even though he used Superman in the analogy, it was still something we’d seen many, many times before and was out of place is what had been a rip-roaring action film. And Tarantino should stay away from children, as he doesn’t know the first thing about writing for them, though there is the very nasty suggestion that, if Bill didn’t turn their daughter into a sociopath, she was born one---like her mother. The one good thing I can say is that neither film has any sort of cameo by Tarantino himself, though another one of his alumnus does show up. I won’t ruin it for you. And that DVD is bullshit. There are scenes in the commercials that don’t turn up in the movie, so you know it’s gonna be on the Kill Bill DVD set that’s undoubtedly coming out later this year, so if you bought it last week, you got screwed.

HE COULD ALSO MAKE BAD GUYS WATCH THIS MOVIE

The Punisher opens at number two and sadly, this is no better than the first movie, made years ago with Dolph Lundgren. First of all, it suffers the same incredibly stupid casting flaw. The Punisher is Frank Castle, born Frank Castiglione. He’s Italian and not just any old Italian, he’s dark, swarthy Italian, but they keep hiring these mayonnaise White boys to play him and dyeing their hair black. After that it’s just a matter of execution of the story. The Dolph Lundgren version is actually better because it doesn’t waste the first thirty minutes giving you the origin of The Punisher. When we join the movie he’s already killed over 200 criminals and the police and the government are trying to hide the fact that it’s Frank Castle, ex-cop, doing all the killing and his origin is reduced to a thirty second flashback. Also, in that one, the story is about The Punisher getting in the middle of a Mafia/Yakuza (Japanese organize crime) gang war. This is just about The Punisher going after the dumbest crime family in the world. Well, they’d be dumb in the real world. Is this stupid movie (written and directed by the writer of Armageddon and Die Hard With A Vengeance, if that’s any clue as to his lack of talent) they murder not just Castle’s wife and son (in the comic book, his family is murdered when they stumble onto a mob it in Central Park), but 29 MORE OF HIS RELATIVES! Excuse me, but that’s going to bring down heat. You’d have school crossing guards coming after you if you killed a cop and 29 MORE OF HIS RELATIVES! But in this film, there’s barely a blip, which is odd given the hundred cops that show up to Frank Castle’s retirement party. It gets even dumber when Frank Castle shows up in front of a police station in front of the press and the first reaction isn’t to, I don’t know, ASK HIM WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!?! He shows up---dressed in full Punisher regalia, no less---then leaves and not one cop thinks, “protective custody.” Nothing happens. And supposedly he’s hiding, but he’s just in an apartment with some dumbass neighbors. Who the hell is paying to see The Punisher interact with his “wacky neighbors.” Granted, Rebecca Romijn (no more Stamos) is one of them, but she’s not the love interest and she doesn’t get naked, so who the hell cares? And apparently Tampa has no cops, because when The Punisher wreaks a little havoc, they never show up. And it never crosses their minds that maybe, just maybe, the guy killing criminals just happens to be that former cop, ex-special forces soldier whose entire family was just wiped out. Even in the Dolph Lundgren version his ex-partner was out to stop him. And when he did get caught, they arrested his ass. In fact, the more I think about it, the better the old Punisher movie gets. In that one, The Punisher lived alone underground and used the sewers to get around. And they knew enough to put it in a real city (albeit a Canadian one). The Punisher is a hard core urban character. Whose bright idea was to set it in fucking Tampa!?! Not even Miami. Tampa. Is it some hotbed of money and crime that’s otherwise escaped public notice? And for some strange reason, all the bad guys in John Travolta’s organization wear black all the time. IN FUCKING FLORIDA! Complete with long, black coats. That’s how dumb this movie is. Even the music is horrible. For some reason The Punisher has trumpet music playing when he’s in action. Hello, trumpets are bright and sing of heroism. This is a guy who cruelly and viciously murders mobsters because he’s tortured by loss. It’s supposed to be ugly and brooding music, not leftovers from Star Wars.

BETTER GET TO WORK ON HOLLYWOOD SHUFFLE 2

Johnson Family Vacation amazing holds at number three, sadly proving there’s a market for Black family films. I say sadly, because it’s obviously not good family films they’re looking for. And this will only encourage Cedric’s delusions of leading man status. The only saving grace is, somewhere Robert Townsend is seething, as he tried this whole thing long ago and the closest he came was The Parent Hood on the WB back when it was an ethnic channel and not a hot youth-oriented one.

IT’LL TURN A PROFIT…IN HELL!

Hellboy is down to number four and I don’t know why they’re talking about a sequel. This damn thing has only made $50M and it cost $60M. And that’s not even counting prints and advertising. It’s got make almost $200M to turn a profit and that’s just not going to happen. Just like Daredevil---another movie based on a comic book starring a red guy with horns on his head---it’s not really a success. It’s just not a colossal failure.

IF THEY REMAKE FOUL PLAY, YOU KNOW HE’S GOT A JOB

Home on the Range actually rises to number five, followed by Scooby Doo 2 at number six, followed by Walking Tall at number seven and how fucking creepy is that actor, Neal McDonough? He’s like one genetic step away from being an albino. On the other hand, this makes for very effective bad guys. How ironic that when most minority actors have to play bad guys, it’s the Whitest person possible who does it more effectively. He as also on the show Boomtown and said he was grateful his character was given no romantic interests because he didn’t want to have to explain to his kids why he was kissing someone other than mommy. Well, buddy, romantic lead is something you’ll never really have to worry about. At best, you’ll be asked to try and rape the hero’s girlfriend.

AND HE’S UGLY TOO. AN UGLY CAREER KILLER. WHY DO WOMEN LIKE HIM?

Ella Enchanted is at number eight and actually still hanging around, which is quite shocking given how it’s got one of the lowest distributions on this list. Guess The Princess Diaries gave Anne Hathaway a formidable fanbase. God knows, no one is seeing this to see Vivica Fox or Minnie Driver. Yes, that’s how far they’ve fallen. They’ve got roles barely above that of cameos in a freaking family film. What is it about dating Matt Damon that kills your career? Let’s look at the list: Winona Ryder, Minnie Driver and Penelope Cruz, who was saved only by being Tom Cruise’s new beard---uh, I mean, new girlfriend. He’s rumored to have hooked up with Eva Mendes on the set of Stuck on You. So long as she doesn’t formally start dating him she should be alright. Being a minority she’s already got one strike against her, I don’t care how much she looks like Cindy Crawford.

THE END

The Passion of The Christ is down to number nine followed by The Alamo closing out the top ten at number ten, proving my point that no one gives a flying fuck about the Alamo outside of Texas and in Texas they only want the myths.

MY BIG FAT CRAPPY MOVIE---THE SECOND ONE

Not breaking the top ten and filling my heart with glee at its failure is Connie & Carla. You couldn’t pay me to see this shit. Nia Vardolos is the heart of mediocrity and everything she creates will reflect that. Besides, if I wanted to see this story of a woman-playing-a-man-playing-a woman, I’d see it done right with Victor/Victoria…which I never saw. I can’t believe anyone gave her the money to do this. Did they really think she’d bring in some loyal audience of Big Fat Greek Wedding lovers? Hell, they wouldn’t watch the show for free on TV every week. Think they’re going to pay to see something totally unlike it? And David Duchovny must make films based on a dare since he’s got his X-Files money to live on. Why else would be in this?

I WONDER HOW LONG THE CREATOR OF SNICKERS LIVED?

Death continues its rampage with Jan of Jan and Dean, original VJ, J.J. Jackson, Marge Schott (whose suite in hell has been ready for years), Paul Winfield (who was very gay and had the same partner for 30 years), Robert Pastorelli (who died a dumbass death of a drug overdose and his dumbass girlfriend accidentally shot herself 5 years ago---their kid does not have genetics on her side) Carrie Snodgress (Diary of A Mad Housewife), Alistair Cooke (who died two weeks after leaving his job, making me think an English sense of responsibility was the only thing keeping him alive) and the great Peter Ustinov. But the death that really caught my interest is the death of the guy who created the Power Bar---at 52! What. The. Fuck? How can the athletic creator of a health bar be dead at 52 when the 300-pound fat guy at this Italian restaurant on 9th Avenue looks about 70? Granted he probably hasn’t seen his dick in fifty years, but guess what? Power Bar guy can’t see his either. This makes me think I should just cancel the damn gym membership. But then I wouldn’t see my yoga instructor anymore. Did I mention she’s a former dancer too? Oh, yeah. And how embarrassed was I when the guy leading the aerobics class asked me if I’d gotten the hang of it yet? In other words he was saying, “You’re severely lacking in rhythm for a brutha, so you need to stop embarrassing us and get it together.” Hey, it’s on a fucking mini-trampoline! That would mess up anybody.

NEXT TIME BRING THE COMEDY

The new Chris Rock special, Never Scared, was the worst one yet. It seems Bring the Pain was his peak, because the ones after that (I never saw the one before it, “Big Ass Jokes” and am grateful) haven’t come close to being as consistently funny. Bigger and Blacker was a great disappointment to me and this was even worse. First of all, that whole need to repeat a fucking concept seven times before starting the joke, needs to go. It’s right up there with the George Clooney Head Bob, of celebrity habits that need to be broken (Steven Soderbergh is the guy who stopped Clooney). Second, no comedian in the world needs 90 minutes. Only Richard Pryor was successfully funny for ninety minutes, but he’s the only one. Most comedians are pushing it at 60 (hell, I saw John Stewart at Carnegie Hall a few years ago and he couldn’t make 60 minutes without dragging material that was years old). At best, Chris Rock had maybe 30 minutes of good material. And the rest was crap. Especially the whole “The White American Government Is Out To Get Us” routine, which seemed to go on for-fucking-ever. And equating drug dealer with slaves who secretly learned to read made me want to punch him in the face. When your best joke is: “What’s in the tea?” “Water, bitch.” Then you know you’ve got trouble. And his rumored married troubles get more support in an especially bitter bit on the hell of marriage. And then you see these morons, not just doubling over with laughter but raving after the show. Just remember these are the same people who’d probably find Martin Lawrence and Eddie Griffin funny. And David Chappelle’s success has had an effect on him. Suddenly, Chris Rock is using the word “nigga” in place of “black.” He never did that before. In fact his routine included a bit on the difference between “niggas” and “Black people.” Thank god I had Chappelle Show reruns to wash my palate clean. And if you didn’t know, “I’m Rick James, bitch” has now been replaced with “Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a bitch?” And if you missed the episode where Wayne Brady took over the show and then took Dave Chappelle out for a night of drive-by shootings, running ho’s and cop killings, then you may have missed the second best episode this year.

IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IT’S TRUE

The Simpsons was in rare form with Edna Krobopple leaving Principal Skinner at the altar and taking up with the Comic Book Guy. The best line was about the comic book convention: “Is it romantic?” “Hey, most girls would put out just to get out of there.” Second best line: “They’re all too old to be dressed up like this.”

CALL ME, HELLBOY!

So, it’s been a long time since I’ve pissed off and alienated a friend, which I hope is a sign of my therapy actually working, but probably that those remain have skin so thick that I’m incapable of pissing them off. I’m also toying with the idea that I’m pure evil, like the stuff the dwarves were picking up at the end of Time Bandits. Not a Lex Luthor type of evil, where I’m out to please myself and will destroy anyone against me, but the kind of “natural evil” whose sole purpose is to bring chaos to order, darkness to light, and encourage weird pizzas without meat, sauce or cheese (that’s all we serve in Hell). The best part about that type of evil is I don’t even have to try. I can just sit on my ass and strangely bad things will happen to people. In any case, I actually managed to do it again recently and demonstrated such a degree of self-involvement and hubris that it shocks even me. Without going into great detail, I became so lost in stating my case over a matter that should have been dropped, that I neglected to notice that I was standing on my friend’s chest at the end (“Excuse me, is that my Nike on your heart?”). Needless to say, I didn’t come to this realization on my own (it took “Fuck off and die” to get that point across), but once I did I welcomed the return of an old friend: instant weight loss through great emotional pain. What makes this better than usual is that I continued to work out (took a swim after my yoga class, bringing me up to three a week). At this rate I may actually see my feet again before my 40th birthday. Also, these little instances send me scurrying for something to occupy my time and mind (you can only lay whimpering in the fetal position for so long) so I repainted my room. You remember the horrific heterosexuality-proving paint job I gave to my apartment to make it look like a giant Christmas box? While others minced around with, “It’s not so bad” only Around The Way Girl had the balls to flat out say, “It’s ugly. I can’t imagine anyone having sex in here.” Needless to say, this is the last thing you want to hear coming out of the mouth of a pretty girl. Well, to ease my troubled soul, I painted those green walls red. And I did it right this time. I primed the fuckers then I painted them as red as the other two. Now my room reflects me. I’m evil and this is a hell of my own making! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Taste my tofu pizza without sauce! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Plus, my antique gold DKNY duvet with matching pillows now looks great against the red walls. But I’m evil, I tell you! Evil!

DEEP INSIDE…JETHRO’S DAUGHTER!?!

Trivia of the week: former 80’s and 90’s porn star Christy Canyon (known for her incredibly huge, real breasts) is actually the daughter of Max Baer Jr., Jethro from the Beverly Hillbillies (Penthouse Pet Amy Lynn Baxter is his niece, so T&A runs in the family)! How could this not have been news back in the 80’s when looking back to the 60’s was all the rage? Not being a boob man, I was never a Christy Canyon fan (and she wasn’t what I’d call pretty), but when she did turn up in movies what was fun about her was that she was a pretty good trash talker. Well, it seems she still has a lot to say as she’s written an autobiography, “Lights, Cameras, Sex” that she’s publishing herself. She’s actually pretty smart realizing that, not only could she maintain creative control this way, but after the advance, she wasn’t going to see a dime if the book made any money (ironic, that, despite her intense rebellion, she still remains a self-made millionaire’s daughter, with her mind smartly and squarely on the money). She also has no illusions about her talent, has no desire to go mainstream, and always knew that she could leave porn when she wanted and her dad would sue the shit out anyone involved. What’s fascinating is that she wasn’t talking to her parents long before she got into porn and didn’t start talking to her mother again until mom approached her. Okay, how fucked up must that household have been for the daughter of a wealthy semi-celebrity (he invested $100K in the film Macon County Line and made $35M) to wind up sucking Ron Jeremy’s dick for the world to see to make a buck rather than go home? I can almost understand why she believes working at MacDonald’s would be more degrading than doing porn, but that stops at Ron Jeremy’s hideous form. That’s when it’s time to make some fries. I’m so curious about what her home life was like, I’m on the verge of buying her book, but I haven’t even read the Traci Lords book yet (which was a gift from someone who sadly knows me too well), not to mention all the other books I’ve bought that currently gather dust on my bookshelves (I swear I’ll finish that book on the history of sword duels, I swear).

THE PATTI LABELLE SHOW

Finally, what is it about the VH1 Diva shows that make them so boring so quickly? We open strong with Patti LaBelle screaming as usual, but quickly goes downhill when Jessica Simpson comes out and starts making weird faces. Somewhere Christina Aguilera is laughing her ass off. But at least Jessica’s breasts are real and still deserve their own credit. Always good to see Cyndi Lauper (who has also held up well over the years) and she’s a damn sight more interesting than Jessica Simpson. But why is it the real LaBelle never reunites for this? What the hell else is Nona Hendryx doing?…in these little pieces where they talk about divas, just what the fuck is Alicia Keys wearing on her eyes? She looks like a 70’s porn star. Sad, but she’s got no more fashion sense than Britney Spears…Debbie Harry still seems to have her wisp of a voice, which is still impressive and having Eve doing a rap is actually pretty inspired (though I’d have preferred the original). Debbie Harry looks great, but whoever told her to wear that thing tight across her stomach is not her friend. She looks pregnant. Not even fat. Pregnant…and I just don’t like Joss Stone. Another “soulful” White girl. Give me a break. Notice all those big sistas backing her up. And I don’t like that cover of “Fell In Love With A Girl” and I’m not even a White Stripes fan…Ashanti can’t sing, but she manages to work with what little she has. I give her credit for actually singing when all the other little girls lip sync in concert. She sings, then dances, but never at the same time. A tiny it of logic that seemingly escapes all the rest. But “I’m Coming Out” is nothing with out that amazing drum solo that opens it. Sorry, but it’s not. And then she just ruins it with the Puff Daddy version. Ugh…do I care about Patti’s new stuff. No. Gonna go make me a sandwich…I hear Cyndi Lauper singing from the kitchen, but it’s a cover. I stick my head in long enough to see Shelia E. on drums, but it’s still not enough. Back to the sandwich…I come back in time to see Patti LaBelle and Cyndi singing “Time After Time.” Sorry, but this is a subtle song, which means Patti’s got no business near it. And she even made Cyndi do a needless screech. Sigh. Then, of course, she touches my heart my mixing “True Colors” into it. Damn you, diva!…”Take My Breath Away” was a crap song the first time around. Did it really need an even crappier remake by Jessica Simpson? I think not. Normally, this is when I’d be turning to The L Word, but this season is over. Damn…Patti again? Is this Divas or Patti LaBelle and The Divas? And watch out for those boobs if you’re in the front row. Hell, even if you’re in the mezzanine…and what better way to undermine a show about female power than with the fucking Pussycat Dolls. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: only in LA could a bunch of B and C list stars dressing up like whores and singing show tunes and covers be significant. Thank god Tom Jones came out to show them what sexy really is. But he looks like shit. Stay out of the sun, Tom. You’re fucking Welsh…Daryl Hannah definitely lost that fighting shape she had in Kill Bill…Blondie. You know, there comes a time to let the band go. And she’s really looking like someone’s mom now. Standing next to one-third-her-age Joss Stone doesn’t help…Gladys is great. Why are they ruining her with these two White girls? You know what was overlooked and great? “License to Kill” the song to the Bond film she did. Yeah, it was a “Goldfinger” rip off, but still great…ah, the finale. I’ve been waiting all night for them to do their biggest hits, but as this point I just want it to be over. Still, I can’t help but smile when Shelia E. does “Glamorous Life.” Why the fuck is Ashanti doing Chaka Khan? Oh, that’s right. Her biggest hits are her singing hooks in rap tunes. And Joss Stone has no hits. And now Jessica Simpson is jerking her neck and ruining another song. End this please.

4/12/04

“Never let your morals get in the way of what’s right.” --- Issac Asimov

MOM, ARE THE GOING TO DO TO THE EASTER BUNNY WHAT THEY DID TO JESUS?

Back up to number one is Passion of the Christ, because nothing says “Let’s celebrate the resurrection of our Lord” like watching a film about the horribly gruesome death that led up to it. Put those chocolate eggs away, little Billy and Sally. Mommy and daddy are going to take you to an “R” rated movie. A move that will result in thousands and thousands dollars in therapy in your teen years, not to mention a total rejection of your religion by the time you’re adults.

WIT IS NOT A SUPER POWER---BUT IT SHOULD BE

Hellboy is down to number two and this movie gets a few points for actually building some of the monsters and not having them all be CGI. But that’s it for originality. There are plenty of jokes, but honestly, they aren’t that funny. Besides, wiseass remarks after every single action sequence gets annoying. I recently watched Total Recall and let me tell you, Arnold’s puns after every dismemberment or killing justifies the creation of both the “mute” button and the “fast forward” button. And let’s not get into the James Bond quips. Man, are those awful. They’re so fucking obvious they’re painful. Here’s a thought. How about losing one computer technician, having one less monster and hire a comedian to write decent jokes for the character? Everyone thinks they’re funny, but only a chose few of us are right.

NOW, IF BERNIE MAC HAD STARRED, YOU MIGHT HAVE HAD SOMETHING

The Johnson Family Vacation opens at number three and apparently someone found one of those old scripts for John Candy laying around and said, “Hey, is there a popular fat guy around now we can shoe-horn into this?” Sure enough, Cedric the Entertainer stepped up, thinking that Barbershop has made him into some kind of star. Uh, no. The irony is, Steve Harvey, who should be the lead actually plays a supporting role in this. Besides, I could buy Steve Harvey with Vanessa Williams as his wife a helluva lot easier than Cedric’s fat ass. Man, she must have really needed a check to sign up for this. Radio Shack must not be paying much. And some desperate casting occurs in a shameless attempt to win some kids. Why else would Lil’ Bow Wow and Solange Knowles (Beyonce’s ugly younger sister) be here? And why is Shannon Elizabeth here at all? Who says, “Hey, let’s cast one of those ugly girls from American Pie and maybe get some of those fans.” And because this is a Black film, one rapper must appear somewhere in a speaking role. Lil Bow Wow hardly counts to an older crowd so C-list rapper, Kurupt, is here to fill that void.

MAYBE THEY’LL MAKE JOHN WAYNE WATCH THIS IN HELL

The Alamo opens at number four and is there anyone outside of Texas who cares about this? Texans are violently prideful of their state to counteract the simple fact they know it was stolen. When the first American settlers arrived in Texas, which was then part of Mexico, they were told there were only two rules: 1) pay taxes, 2) no slavery. Guess which two rules those fuckers promptly broke? That’s right, Texas is the result of tax-dodging slave owners. This is why they’re so sensitive about this crap and why they cling to the story of the Alamo so virulently. It’s probably the closest thing to nobility that was going on at the time. Supposedly, this movie shows the “heroes” of the Alamo, warts and all, which is going to piss off a lot of Texans, which is always a good thing. Personally, I won’t be satisfied until we see a thorough investigation of the story of Emily West, “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” You say you don’t know that either? Well, let me tell you. Emily was an indentured servant, which means she was essentially a slave who was captured by the general of the Mexican army, Santa Anna, along with a young boy named Turner. Santa Anna took a liking to her and planned on making her yet another one of his women. Because he was so set on doing this, he ignored the other generals and set up encampment on a location that violated all the rules of wartime strategy. Emily helped Tuner escape and Turner then made it to the Texans under the command of Sam Houston and told them where Santa Anna was. They attacked his poor position and defeated the Mexican army (Santa Anna was literally caught with his pants down with Emily) and Texas became initially a separate country before becoming a state (in its constitution Texas reserved the right to secede at any time and separate into four separate states). Emily survived the battle, was freed from servitude and sent home to New York. The song’s actual lyrics are as follows: “There’s a yellow rose of Texas/That I am going to see/No other darky knows her/No one only me…” Anyway, I’ll never see this, because like most people, I could give a shit. Not to mention, as interesting as it is casting Billy Bob Thornton as Davy Crockett, your most noteworthy hero shouldn’t be played by the least attractive cast member. Especially not when Dennis Quaid plays Sam Houston and Jason Patric is Jim Bowie. And isn’t there some law that only Sam Elliot can play Sam Houston or is that just me?

SOMEHOW “WALKING JACKASS” DOESN’T SOUND APPEALING

Walking Tall is down to number five and who decided ads making this also about Johnny Knoxville “(Two Men are going to clean up their town.”) would bring in someone who might not otherwise see this? As if suddenly the movie was going to stop so The Rock and this guy could set their balls on fire or whatever the fuck they did on that Jackass show, which I’m proud to say I’ve never seen.

NOW YOU KNOW WHY DIE HARD 4 IS COMING

Home on the Range is down to number six, followed by Scooby-Doo 2 at number seven. But they still did better than The Whole Ten Yards, which opened at number eight this week. You couldn’t pay me to sit through this shit. First of all, that’s not even a real expression, whereas the first one was. And like the first one, IT HAS NOTHING WHATSOEVER TO DO WITH THE FUCKING STORY! This movie has been sitting on the shelf for almost six months, so you know it sucks. It must be especially galling for Amanda Peet, because the first one was supposed to make her the next big thing. Still waiting. And Bruce Willis is never funny in comedies. He’s funny in his action movies, but like Stallone and so many others, despite having excellent comic timing, they always over play in actual comedies. This looks no different. And Matthew Perry needs this like he needs air, considering his gravy train has come to an end with the end of Friends. Now, he shouldn’t need to work again given what he was being paid. For his sake, I hope so, because he probably won’t be working again. Not a lot of people casting chubby drug addicts. Say what you want about Robert Downey Jr., but at least he stayed presentable no matter how fucked up he was. The good thing about this failure is that it brings the beauteous Natasha Henstridge one step closer back to doing nudity, which is what first brought her to fame with Species. But now, since she’s had a kid, she’s filled out very, very nicely (oddity alert: tall, blonde white girl with an ass!), so it’s going to be much, much better. Unfortunately, it may also lead to her agreeing to a Species 3, but if she’s naked in it, I’ll support that too.

YOU CHEAP BASTARDS

Ella Enchanted opens poorly at number nine and I reviewed this for CMJ New Music Monthly, so cough up your money if you want to find out why it failed, because it did deserve to.

DEEP INSIDE A DERIVATIVE TEEN COMEDY

Finally, The Girl Next Door opens at number ten and why didn’t they just flat out call this Risky Business 2: This Time She’s A Porn Star? Let’s run down the checklist. Frustrated, college obsessed senior who never takes a risk? Check. Goofball friends whose bad advice he should ignore but does not? Check. Blonde girl who has sex for money? Check. But this time it’s someone very, very attractive, giving us two attractive leads rather than just the one. The difference between her and Rebecca DeMornay is the difference between night and day, but fate cruelly, cruelly gave Elisha Cuthbert one of the flattest asses ever seen on a human being. It wouldn’t be so bad if she weren’t otherwise perfect, but this is just…wrong. I haven’t seen anything this disappointing since I realized Cindy Crawford had no ass. Okay, back to the checklist: do we have a voiceover by the lead at the beginning and end of the movie? Check. Big school-related project he should be working on? Check. Is something valuable stolen from him that he has to replace? Check. Creepy guy from the girl’s sex-for-money life who comes after her? Check, but again, Timothy Olyphant is better looking, but hardly believable as a porn producer, whereas you bought Joe Pantoliano as a pimp easily. Do some of her co-workers show up to have sex with his loser friends? Yes. Do we have stylish direction with a synth heavy soundtrack? At the very beginning, yes. Is there a big money making plan involving the girl’s sordid business, even though she doesn’t do it herself? Check. Is there a “what the fuck” type of mantra bestowed on the hero that he learns to follow? Check (here, it’s “just go with it”). Finally, does Muddy Waters’ “Mannish Boy” show up? Check. Fuck, it’s been twenty-one years since Risky Business. Why not just remake it? At least then you could use its much better script and characters. In Risky Business, Rebecca DeMornay was as hard as you’d expect a hooker to be, even a young one. Every time she told Tom Cruise she liked him, you were never sure if she were lying, even at the end. Whereas fucking on film for money seeming created no such shell for Elisha Cuthbert (let’s not even address the ugly reality that most porn stars, male and females, usually suffer some sort of childhood sexual abuse). And the lead character not having a girlfriend is unbelievable. Even Tom Cruise’s character had opportunities, though being too timid to take advantage of them (remember the babysitter covered with water on the kitchen floor?). This kid is actually student council president and somewhat of an overachiever. No one who looks as good as this kid, who is obviously somewhat active is going to be without a girlfriend. Oh, she may be the wrong type of girlfriend, but he would still have one. Also, Risky Business has a plot, whereas this takes its premise (hot porn star moves next door to repressed teen) nowhere really, and takes far too long not doing it. Such a waste of the rare teen comedy that has the balls to go straight for the “R” rating and not pretend you can make a movie about horny teenagers and a porn star without it. But if you’re going to make a sex comedy, HOW ABOUT PUTTING SOME FUCKING SEX IN IT!?! And if you think star Elisha Cuthbert shows how perfect everything but her ass is, you need to save even your video rental money (and given how poorly this did, it should be out in about three weeks), because she doesn’t get even remotely naked. If I was 16 and I’d paid to see Home on the Range or Scooby Doo 2 and snuck into this, I’d be so pissed.

HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN

Holy Shit. Apparently Jesus has risen and is pissed about movies, because The Prince and Me, The Ladykillers and Jersey Girl are all out of the top ten just barely into their runs, Walking Tall, Scooby Doo 2 and Hellboy, which all had an equal or greater time there are still around. This is very noticeable people, because the top ten should be filled with above-the-titles, movie-carrying stars like Julia Stiles, Tom Hanks and Ben Affleck. Not a TV star (Sarah Michelle Gellar), a former wrestler (The Rock) and The Beast from the lame TV show, Beauty & The Beast (Ron Pearlman). Hell, one of the former sits unchallenged at the very top of the Hollywood food chain (and it’s not the one who got to fuck JLo, which is the better position in my mind). What have we learned from this, people? First of all, A-list stars and the Coen Brothers doing unoriginal material simply do not mix. This is their second disappointment this year with this formula, the first being Intolerable Cruelty. Time for them to go back to indie-ville, writing their own original-yet-derivative movies. Second, generic heroines with no edge simply do not work for young girls. Reese Witherspoon is currently the young blonde actress of choice and the characters she portrays are abrasive, have sex and their futures are not all about getting a boy. Someone should remind Julia Stiles that her first big hit as all about her being an unapologetic bitch (10 Things I Hate About You, which I recently watched and it’s still damn good) and her second had her fucking Black guys. Hardly the generic pap this film was. Finally Kevin Smith is nothing without an “R” rating and needs to stay away from the real world. Sorry, but like Mel Brooks, something special gets released in Kevin Smith with an “R” rating that compensates even for his poor direction. Also, all his more creatively successful films, hardly take place in the real world, so much as an odd universe where his distinctive type of profane dialogue is normal. Almost like the work of David Mamet.

LADIES, SAVE YOUR MAN’S LIFE: BLOW HIM AT LEAST EVERY WEEK DAY

According to a recent study by the American Cancer Institute, men who have 20 or more ejaculations a month have a 33% less probability of developing prostate cancer. See? I have to do this to save my own life. My grandfather died of prostate cancer (sneaking out of the hospital during the early stages rather than be treated didn’t help). I can’t take chances. I’m going to have to up my…um, routine to twice a day just to be sure. In fact, given that it’s now for my health, I wonder if I can get my insurance to pay for my porn? You know, the way some cover gym memberships? Hey, Penthouse Letters ain’t cheap, buddy. But what’s great is that we now have a new euphemism. Say goodbye to “spanking the monkey” and say hello to “protecting myself from prostate cancer.”

BUT STRANGELY I HAVE NO MONEY FOR FOOD

So the much vaunted goal of 300 DVD’s was reached, due in no small part to a free shipping sale from dvdempire.com. With it, I was finally able to fill in gaps in my collection. The underrated CQ, written and directed by Carmine Coppola, who is worthy of just as much attention as is his sister if not more; True Love a comedy about an Italian-American wedding in the Bronx starring Anabella Sciorra and Ron Eldard; Rapid Fire a barely serviceable action movie starring Brandon Lee, son of Bruce; and That Thing You Do, yet another one of the smaller films with Tom Hanks that I like. Now, I suddenly have no more urge to buy anything. I’m not buying The Matrix Revolutions, I’m not buying Kill Bill (you know there’s going to be a special set when the second comes out) and I’m not even going to replace my copy of Room With A View with the special edition (the original actually chopped off some of the film). Granted, I also have no more room, but I consider that just a coincidence. And I didn’t buy them all. 19 of them (the most expensive items in fact) were free. So there. And if you’re wondering why I never count the porn, it’s because the number keeps changing because I’m always selling them off on ebay. Every once and awhile I realize that you only need so many porn movies (the nice one you can watch with a girl, the filthy disgusting one that you watch alone, the supposed “classic” and the one everyone heard about because it was in the news) and I need the space for the 300 real DVD’s. Fucking Smallville takes up a lot of space, so “Backdoor Redheads Pt. 12” has got to go.

SO LONG AS IT’S NOT BRUCE WILLIS

Gina Gershon has her own little reality show on IFC called Rocked With Gina Gershon, which is about her touring with a band as a result of her role in Prey For Rock & Roll. And I had no idea she was Jewish. Why Jewish men are obsessed with blondes and Asians when you can claim someone Gina Gershon is beyond me. Her touring band was Girls Against Boys, who are an actual band. For them this was probably more exposure than they would get on their own, but there’s the humiliating aspect of supporting an actress and you can sometimes see it in their faces. But the best part is Drea DeMatteo, who co-stars in the film, shows up. Yeah, baby. And what’s funny is Gershon’s lesbian audience is still hanging in there too (though she denies it, rumor has it she once dated Gillian Anderson, which I’d pay to see). Can she rock? No. She’s just another wannabe. And those songs suck. It’s no coincidence that she went to high school with Lenny Kravitz. Apparently that was the “suck at music” high school.

AND ISN’T MATT LEBLANC A LITTLE OLD TO BE PLAYING A STRUGGLING ACTOR?

Speaking of Drea DeMatteo, I had no idea there was an entire episode about her character on The Sopranos last week. Why didn’t someone tell me? You fuckers know I don’t watch that show unless I turn to it and see her face. As it was, it just so happened that I turned to it, saw her and she never seemed to leave. Then I checked online and found out it was about her and had to do the Video On Demand to watch it. Who cares about the plot? All I know is that she was dressed in the wonderful rock chick slutty way that I so love and adore. And I’m filled with mixed emotions about her being cast in the spinoff of Friends. On one hand, it’s a huge break for her and I’ll be able to see her every week. On the other hand, Friends sucks. It’s sucked for ten years and if you disagree with me it’s because you’re an idiot. I’ll have to watch it the way I watched Lisa Bonet on A Different World: with the sound off (while I “protect myself from prostate cancer).

THE FORCE IS STRONG WITH THE CARTOON NETWORK

So, the Cartoon Network finally ran all the Star Wars: Clone Wars shorts together. In case you didn’t know, The Clone Wars are five minute animated shorts about what happens directly after Star Wars: Attack of the Clones and they’re done by the guys behind Samurai Jack. And, though I hate to admit it, they’re great. There are segments where Yoda and Mace Windu kick so much ass it’s not even funny. Not to mention a great duel between Anakin Skywalker and an assassin sent to kill him (at one point they fight in the rain, where light sabers hiss steam when the water hits them). But why wouldn’t they be? Fucking Lucas had nothing to do with any of it. There’s more action and character development in one of these five minute cartoons than there was in the whole of both of the last two films. Because I’m not some run of the mill geek, I was not going to watch these goddamn things for five minutes at a time at 6:00 they way they originally ran. Nope. I waited until there were two whole seasons and saw them all in one fell swoop. This is why I’m king, baby.

ASSUME THE POSITION OF “QUIETLY LUSTING GEEK”

So, we’ve had one full week of working out and now that the soreness has passed, the threat over overwhelming boredom has set in. You know, when I was horrifically depressed I was losing five pounds a week without even trying. Yes, I spent most of my nights weeping in the fetal position, but it was fair trade off. But whatever you do, don’t do one of those fitness calculators on line where you give your height and weight. According to them I’m 15 pounds overweight. Gee, thanks. It was losing 15 fucking pounds that made realize I had to get therapy. And while my yoga instructor remains as hot as ever (she touched me to adjust my form three whole times this week), she not only wore a bra this week, but also something that looked suspiciously like a wedding ring. Sigh. Oh, well. At least this frees me of any obligation to ever try anything, which is really how we geeks prefer it. Actual interaction is scary.

ONCE WE’VE SEEN BUSH, THERE’S NO TURNING BACK TO PANTIES

Okay, every time I turn around Pam Anderson is on the cover of one of those fake porn magazines. Who the fuck is buying this!?! Now, they wouldn’t constantly put her and Brooke Burke and Carmen Electra and any of those other skanks whose careers seem to be built on these magazines unless sales went up every time they were on the cover. I just want to know who’s still buying semi-nude pictures of Pam Anderson at this stage of the game. I mean you’ve seen her nude, you’ve seen her fucking, you’ve seen her with a dick in her mouth. How can you settle for anything less after that? It’s like saying you’re happy to just hold hands with the girl you used to sleep with. Let me tell you the names of the only couple who are happier holding hands now than dating: Will & Grace. Men don’t go backwards, so who the hell is buying these magazines!?!

“I THINK I’M TURNING AWAY FROM BEING JAPANESE/I’M TURNING AWAY FROM BEING JAPANESE/I REALLY THINK SO…"

Okay, so I’m back from the gym, not paying attention to the TV, otherwise I would have turned from an MTV special about an Asian girl getting plastic surgery to get a fold in her eyelid. Hosted, of course, by the Asian girl at MTV, who confesses to almost getting the surgery at one point. Though much of the blames is placed on society where it belongs, the real truth comes out for both girls: their mothers said something (both dads seem to be MIA). Yep, in both cases mom makes a comment about how the surgery would improve her looks. That’s just great. Bad enough you’re fucked up, but now you’re going to fuck up the next generation too? Hell, if you gotta get something done how about pumping up that flat ass! Better yet, how about spending that money (‘cause I know insurance ain’t paying for it) on a personal trainer or therapy? And if you want talk about sick, how about the way they all say they’re trying “look more American” when what they mean is “look more White.” I’m a fucking American. Bruce Lee was a fucking American (born in San Francisco). They ain't paying to look like us. White = American to them. It’s so fucking sad. But I have to tell you, Asians are strictly amateurs when it comes to self-hatred in America. They’re actually a distant freaking third. Sadly, god’s chosen, the children of Abraham, The Jews rule the top spot. There have been more noses broken by New York plastic surgeons, than by all the fights ever in the history of boxing. And we won’t even get into the name changes. That’s not John Solomon hosting the Daily Show; it’s John Stewart. And that’s not Winona Horowitz being busted for shoplifting; it’s Winona Ryder. Next, come my own people, who probably get a significant amount of plastic surgery though a bit more on the down low, the Jackson family not withstanding. And we won’t even get into the skin lightening and hair straightening. I can still remember the smell of burning hair when women in my family would use what was called a “hot comb”---a comb made of cast iron---heated on a stove, to essentially burn their hair straight. The first black millionaire in America was a woman who sold products to make the hair of Black people straight. The Johnson & Johnson fortune is also built on it. Maybe it’s the guilt of it that makes them publish so many insipid magazines like Jet and Ebony that preach ethnic pride even where they shouldn’t (Jet recommended Leonard Part 6, which even Bill Cosby hated). Our only saving grace is that at least we manage to attach some sort of stigma to it, but it doesn’t really stick. Next come our Asian brothers and sisters who suffered a unique form of self-hatred because they were taught it by the most evil race on the planet: The English. Needless to say, it’s mostly eye jobs. As my Japanese roommate pointed out to me, “Look in the back of any Asian magazine and you’ll nothing but ads for plastic surgery.” Even the great Jackie Chan got an eye job back in the 70’s when he was first trying to crossover to America in the Cannonball Run movies (you’d think the nose would have been the obvious thing to change) So the girl gets the surgery and she’s happy with herself. Her boyfriend (White guy) didn’t care but supports her decision. He’s a better man than I, Gunga Din. I would have dumped someone that pathetic and I’m not in a position to be dumping anybody.

SUDDENLY BRITNEY’S CONCERT DOESN’T SEEM SO BAD

Finally, the variety show died out for a reason. The Nick and Jessica Variety Hour shows us that reason. What kind of bet did Babyface and Jewel lose to have to do that show? Oh, that’s right, his last album tanked and hers died quickly after that one hit. But Jessica Simpson does have some really nice breasts, which were a third lead and probably should have a title credit.

4/05/04

“With money I’ll throttle the beast-blind world between my fingers. Without it I am strapped; weakened; my life is a curse and a care.” --- Thomas Wolfe

STRAIGHT TO HELL, BOY

Hellboy opens at number one and I’m shocked because I always found the comic book rather uninteresting. Hellboy is a demon brought to earth by Nazis to help them take over the world. Unfortunately, their little plan is interrupted by the Allies who take the baby demon and raise him to fight supernatural evil for the US Government. Yeah, and? I’m sorry but that premise holds no interest for me whatsoever. Not the least which is Hellboy is a big red demon with a stone right hand. So, there’s absolutely no way you can relate to the main character whatsoever. It would different if could look human some of the time and transform into a big red demon when it was time to fight, but this way, it’s off-putting. At the very least they could have added a sub-plot about him seeking away to become human. Also, he fights evil like it’s just job he does, like a plumber or exterminator. There’s no nobility in his battles, no honor. Just “kill the monster, go home for pancakes.” I think I read the first two or three issues (if that) and quickly dropped it. I was always shocked to see it still being published and even more shocked that someone wanted to make a movie about it. It looks great, of that there is no doubt. All the special effects are nice and Ron Pearlman looks good all made up as Hellboy. The refusal of a couple of studios to make it unless it had a star make no sense. You’re never going to see your fucking star under all that make up, so what the fuck does it matter who plays the lead? Save that money for your special effects. They also saved money hiring Selma Blair as a pyrokinetic (she makes fire with her mind), because honestly, she brings nothing but her trademark hirsuteness to the role. I think the most well-known cast member is David Hyde Pierce as the voice of the, well, aquaman. He’s some sort of amphibian man whose origins are never really explained and if they think there’s going to be a sequel to do it, they’re wrong. Sadly, the story never really takes off, which is understandable when it’s basically, “Stop Rasputin from Destroying the world.” Yeah, that’s right, it’s the Rasputin trying to destroy the world. Hell, I’m gettin’ bored just writing this. There’s a welcome amount of humor in the script, but given that you’re fighting a Joe Pantialano lookalike as Rasputin, you would have been better off going for much, much more. And you will never see a movie set supposedly in New York, look less like New York. Also, a great deal is set in Jersey and you mean to tell me they couldn’t afford to film in fucking Jersey!?! I mean, it’s not like you blew your budget on the A-list cast.

IF YOUR LAST NAME WAS “PUSSER” YOU’D HAVE TO LEARN TO FIGHT TOO

Walking Tall opens at number two and I’m so uninterested in this, I forgot I had a screening pass to see it. That’s right, I didn’t even care enough to see it for free. Even at 75 minutes and you know how I love the short movies. I remember the original series of Walking Tall with Joe Don Baker (who doesn’t even make the obligatory cameo in the fucking remake) and I remember that I didn’t care then. The Rock is quickly heading towards the biggest “shoulda been” in recent memory. He’s got charisma, but his vehicles suck. The Rundown was a fun movie stupidly released in the fall and this…why make this at all? Is there a big Buford Pusser fanbase of which I know nothing? But wait, it’s not Buford Pusser he’s playing this time around. That’s why the advertisements says, “Inspired by a true story” rather than “based on a true story.” Funny, because Buford Pusser came home, not from the army, but from trying to be a pro wrestler (and was actually bigger at 6’6”). Also, in the end, his wife winds up being murdered during an attempt on his life, which is a serious downer for a light-hearted action adventure movie.

AND WHO WANTS TO WATCH COWS ANYWAY?

Scooby Doo 2 is down to number three followed by Home on the Range at number four and if you want to keep people away from your animated film, then get the most annoying voices possible to be in it. Apparently, Disney wanted no one to see this. Why else would freaking Roseanne be the lead voice? That alone pretty much guaranteed that I would never see it and I see I’m not alone. Over 3,000 theaters, most of the adult male population not even at the movies because of the NCAA Final Four, and it still opens at number four. What makes it really sad is that freaking Judi Dench signed up for this (not to mention Steve Buscemi and Sarah Jessica Parker) and I can’t think of a great waste of talent. What really burns my geek ass is that fuck ups like this are what is killing hand drawn animation. They blame the format but not the decision to cast the most nasal, annoying voice in humanity in the lead role. And if that isn’t proof they wanted it to die, know that Cuba Gooding Jr. is also here. Case closed.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

The Prince And Me opens at number five and I almost blew this off too, because even though I loves them there romantic comedies, there was nothing particularly appealing about it. Then I saw that Martha Coolidge had directed it and since Valley Girl, I’ve been a fan, despite her numerous missteps. It’s just that when she’s on, it’s in the films you least expect it from, like Valley Girl, Plain Clothes and Real Genius. I’d hoped this would be such an instance, but it was not to be. As always it starts off with the script (a witty allusion to Hamlet is thrown away almost as soon as it’s introduced). Okay, so the set-up is tried and true. The semi Prince & The Pauper set-up (semi, because he’s just pretending to be the pauper without switching with anyone) has worked for over a hundred years now. No reason to stop now. The fact that he’s going to the college because of a Girls Gone Wild video is also a nice touch, but then the movie loses its balls, literally. When did any hint of sex get ripped out of the modern romantic comedy? This partying prince comes to a small college and the only girl he’s attracted to is Julia Stiles!?! No girls are attracted to him? Tall, blonde, good-looking, obviously wealthy with an accent (which is strangely English even though he’s from Danish)? They even discuss these very attributes at one point in the film! Wouldn’t it have been better indication of how he’s grown by having him start off partying his way through the college then settling down because of her? And because it’s all in the commercials, you see it’s actually two movies. The first is about a girl unknowingly dating a prince and the second is about an average American girl who’s going to marry a prince. Well, the second film is as incomplete as the first, but thankfully much shorter. It gains a few points by actually seeming to choose character over cliché at the end---but then tries to have it both ways, which is a total fucking cop-out. And when did Julia Stiles lose all that weight? She’s a beanpole now and her semi-decent ass is now all gone, which is kinda of a problem, ‘cause she ain’t no model. Not with that moon-pie face. Oh, shut up. You know I’m right.

WATER SEEKS ITS OWN LEVEL

The Passion of the Christ is down to number six, followed by The Ladykillers at number seven, and out of all the cast of Requiem For A Dream, the only member who got dick in terms of critical respect was Marlon Wayans. Maybe it’s because the three main stories weren’t really about him or maybe it was because in the horrific climax of the film, where everyone is made to suffer most horribly for their drug addiction, he suffers the least. Jared Leto loses an arm, Ellen Burstyn gets electroshock therapy, Jennifer Connelly has very nasty double-dildo lesbian sex in front of a room of screaming Wall Streeters and Marlon…well, Marlon just pukes and that don’t get you no respect from the New York Times. And while everyone else went on to do more respectable work (Jennifer’s turn in The Hulk notwithstanding), Marlon did Scary Movie, Scary Movie 2, Dungeons & Dragons (as “the Black sidekick who dies” no less) and you see where that’s going. But in the end, he may have the last laugh, as he was a producer on the $100+ grossing Scary Movies. But that only means he has the luxury to pick and choose his roles now, if not finance an indie as a vehicle for himself. He’s not doing this. Instead he and his brother will play two rich White girls in the movie “White Chicks.” I’m not kidding. They do the whole “Tootsie” thing with make-up and play White girls. Sigh. It’ll probably make a fortune because some of you fuckers are laughing at that even now.

SUDDENLY “MATT MURDOCK” SEEMS REGAL

Jersey Girl is down to number eight and it goes without saying that, if Ben Affleck has made a movie, much less one with Kevin Smith, then Matt Damon must be somewhere in it (he was in Chasing Amy and his cameo was cut from Sum of All Fears), and yes, he’s here in a cameo alongside another Kevin Smith alum, Jason Lee. Damon also had a cameo in the odious Eurotrip as the lead singer of the band with whom the lead character’s girlfriend has been sleeping (just the lead singer, not the whole band) and he writes a song about it called “Scotty Doesn’t Know”---which is actually quite catchy (“I can’t believe he so trusting/When I’m right behind you thrusting/Fiona’s got him on the phone/And she’s trying not to moan/It’s a threeway call and he knows nothing/Scotty doesn’t know/ Scotty doesn’t know…”) and performed by the band Lustra. And what’s with Ben Affleck and characters with dumbass names. In this he’s “Ollie Trinke.” In Gigli he was “Larry Gigli.” In Changing Lanes was “Gavin Banek.” In Pearl Harbor he was “Rafe McCawley.” In Chasing Amy he was “Holden McNeil.” And in Reindeer Games (which now has two Oscar winners in it), he was “Rudy Duncan.” Hey, here’s a thought: John Smith.

IT’S LIKE LISTENING TO A BEER TESTER COMPLAIN

Dawn of the Dead is down to number nine at and in the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly they do another one of those women & minority round tables where they gather up either a bunch of actresses or a bunch of minority actors (or both) and let them complaining about what’s wrong with the movie business today with its sexism and racism. Mekhi Phifer is part of this group because 1) he’s working steadily and 2) he’s got nothing to complain about with the roles he’s been given. As we’ve discussed previously, Mekhi Phifer has been paid to kiss Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba, Ming Na, Julia Stiles, Beyonce and Brandy. He can complain about NOTHING! If that’s oppression, then I’m a little too fucking free.

DON’T KID YOURSELF: THERE WAS SOME DAMN GOOD NEW WAVE MUSIC

Finally, Taking Lives and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind tie at number ten and here’s your big 80’s (actually 1979) test: do you remember a new wave group called The Korgis and their hit “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime?” Well, you’re a better man than I, because I’d pretty much forgotten it. Beck does a cover of it for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and where the original was very clean technopop, Beck sings it like a man who’s been trying to heal a broken heart with scotch and cigarettes. Needless to say I like his version a lot more. It’s used in the film when the recently dumped Jim Carrey is doing the “post-break-up-driving-around-in-your-car-listening-to-sad-songs” thing we all do. On the other hand, Polyphonic Spree needs to go down in a plane crash something awful. I hated that fucking song when it was used in that Apple/VW commercial and I hate it even more now in this movie. And truly hate the whole concept of their fucking band with this happy people bullshit. Again, happy well-adjusted people do not, simply do not make good art.

69 SONGS?…OH, NOW I GET IT. THAT’S DIRTY.

Speaking of music, John Mayer’s “Clarity” grew on me like a fungus, which sucks, because he is not a man for simple guitar chords. It doesn’t get much simpler than Seal and “Love’s Divine” is still pissing me off, so you can imagine what John Mayer would do to me. So, I didn’t bother trying to figure it out on my own and went and found the kind of lunatics online who live for deciphering guitar gods (like Mayer is evolving into) and, of course, they had it. I still can’t play it but at least I know what it is that I can’t play. I also used $40 of store credit (don’t ask how; just accept it) to get new albums from Zero 7, Stereolab and The Magnetic Fields. Zero 7 goes in the pile with Seal as “music to have sex to.” Yeah, you can chill to it as well, but who are we kidding? If you’ve broken out the wine and candles, this is what you’re going to have in the multiple disc cd player. There’s no single the equal of “Destiny” but it’s still a decent album. Stereolab is similar, but not quite so “booty friendly.” It’s more loungey. I know they’ve been around forever, but this is my venture into the pool. I may have to go back in their catalogue and try their more landmark albums, like “Emperor Tomato Ketchup.” Finally, The Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs Vol. 1 was bought because not one, but two evil redheads actually recommended it. Since they’re all out to get me, I know learn this music because it will most likely be playing the next time one of them tries to kill me. It’ll be like Jaws. I’ll hear “I Don’t Want To Get Over You” or “How Fucking Romantic” I’ll know an attack is coming. It’s okay pop. The songs often try a little to hard to be clever “Reno Dakota/There’s not an iota of kindness in you/You know you enthrall me/And yet you don’t call me/It’s making me blue.” I hate that shit. About a third are like that, another third are borderline and another third are good. So, you get either 31or 62 songs out of the three volumes. I won’t be getting the next two. It’s just not worth slogging through for me. Not when there are still Beatles albums I haven’t bought yet.

HOT FOR TEACHER

So, I broke down and did it. I rejoined Crunch. Sigh. Sorry, but age and an addiction to cheese were totally against me. Not to mention out-and-out laziness. Hell, on the day I signed up I’d planned to go but still wound up blowing it off. Luckily, I caught them during a sale, so it was even cheaper joining now than it was three or four years ago when I first joined. It’s also cheaper month-to-month, which means I’ll feel less guilty when I don’t work out for months at a time. Still, I not only went swimming the next night (I was the only man there without a lean, chiseled torso; the beginning of a trend), but I got up at 9:00 am on a freaking Saturday to go to my first aerobics class. It was one of those low-impact deals on mini-trampolines. Needless to say, I almost died, though occasional instructor, Barbara, who was just taking the class told me I did very well for a beginner. I had to fight the urge to point out, that I was slightly embarrassed as Black man to be so totally off-beat so often during the workout. Not to mention, I had the biggest thighs out of any man in the room. I have my mother’s thighs. Everyone else had lean and muscular legs. And I won’t even get into the shaven-headed, sculpted brutha leading the class. See, the simple knowledge that women will put up with love handles is why straight men will never look as good as gay men. We’re playing to different audiences and women are much too forgiving of imperfections. Look at Janet Jackson and Jermaine “Ratboy” DuPri. What’s my motivation to workout when rodent men can land women like that? When Halle Berry married Eric Benet, that was intimidation, but not this. So I then got up at fucking 8:00 am Sunday fucking morning (I don’t get up that early to go to fucking work) to go to Yoga Basics, so I can attend the normal classes without embarrassing myself. Fate was either very cruel or very kind to me at this moment because the new yoga instructor turned out to be horribly, horribly cute sista (and it didn’t help matters that she teaches class braless). Now I actually have genuine motivation to get my ass up and keep going back. Especially given how I’m hardly being caught at my best (my “Hell’s Kitchen” t-shirt, which was once my friend, now accentuates my belly like a push-up bra does a boob). Yes, men are sad fucking creatures. But I don’t have the same impetus with my other workouts, so who knows how long they will this last. If I make two weeks I’ll be impressed, but I’d like to be able to wear my gay-superhero shirts if and when it gets warmer (they’re just Captain America and Superman tank tops, but they’re ribbed and colored, which of course, means gay or guido, and I’m not Italian). Of course the real enemy is that I’m not changing my eating habits. Sorry, but if giving up cheese is part of the deal, then I’m just going to have to get used to looking down and not seeing my dick. Which now means that absolutely no one will be seeing it.

BUT MUCH LIKE THE PASSION, IT’S NOT REAL EITHER.

It’s that time of year again, when one of my favorite movies airs: The Ten Commandments. The epitome of the great Hollywood epic. And I do mean Hollywood. Glorious Technicolor with some of the greatest stilted dialogue ever written (“Are you a master builder or a master butcher?” “What the gods can digest will not sour in the belly of a slave.” “Am I to be bathed or drowned?”). And I love it, love it, love it! Charlton Heston, Yul Brynner, Vincent Price, Edward G Robinson. Scenery was never greater chewed and it’s got more ham than a sandwich made by Dagwood.

WHO NEEDS A GIRLFRIEND WHEN YOU’RE GOT THIS?

Geekboys around the world rejoiced when the fourth and final issue of Justice League of America/Avengers came out---three months late. The cover alone was worth it. And yes, I have seen the American Express Superman/Jerry Seinfeld commercials and yes, I do like them. There’s a five minute short on the website. Barry Levinson directed them all and they are pretty funny. You almost forget someone is schilling something. My geek problems aside (Green Lantern? It’s Batman who pisses Superman off and they now have a telepathic link courtesy of The Martian Manhunter, so he wouldn’t be calling anyway and…), I just don’t like that freaking “Puddy” from Seinfeld is the voice of Superman. What the fuck? You couldn’t throw Christopher Reeve a fucking bone!?! The man is paralyzed for god’s sake! It’s not like he can go on normal auditions. Insensitive AmEx bastards.

LET’S STEP IN THE WAY-BACK MACHINE

Finally, this was one of my very first reviews for CMJ: New Music Monthly and it gives you an idea of just how long this movie has been sitting on the shelf at Miramax. They truly fucked this up. Handled properly, this could have made a little money for them:

Initially, I thought the trailer for Shaolin Soccer was merely a short film satire. Imagine my surprise when I found out that not only was it real, but that it was the biggest hit in Hong Kong history. I can see why. If you know anything about Hong Kong martial arts flicks, you know that The Matrix was actually a bit mild and that Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was slow. Shaolin Soccer, however, takes all the over-the-top conventions of HK action films and puts them to maximum use in this comedy about a group of down and out former Shaolin students who use their martial arts skills to play soccer. If that wasn’t enough, throw in the occasional Steven Spielberg and John Woo parody, at least one dance number and a goalie that dresses and acts like Bruce Lee. This may be my favorite film of 2002. No kidding.