11/29/04
“Lookin’ sharp, huh?” “As sharp as you can look without turning into a nigga.” --- exchange between Double J and Bobby C from Saturday Night Fever
MAYBE A SCHNOONER BUT NOT A THOUSAND SHIPS
National Treasure holds at number one and launching into every model’s movie career as “Generic Pretty Girl” is Diane Kruger, better known as Helen from this year’s Troy. Yes, because when you think the prettiest woman in Greece, you naturally think “blonde.” Sigh. She’s playing essentially the Allison Doody role in this. Don’t know Alison Doody? Yes, you do. She was the Generic Pretty Girl in Indiana Jones and The Lost Crusade who slept with both Indy and his father. Ironically, she was playing German, while Diane Kruger is German and playing the head of some antiquities branch of the government, accent intact, because lots of foreign-born nationals are allowed access to our greatest treasures. And I don’t know who to blame more for the lame romantic sub-plot, the writer or the director, but given how lame the film is otherwise, I’m sure it’s a combination of two guys who are really afraid of girls.
YO, BRUTHAS GOT TO SAVE THE WORLD IN STYLE OR NOT AT ALL
The Incredibles is up to number two and I maintain this could have been a funnier, if much less profitable movie if Samuel Jackson had been allowed to curse freely in his role as Frozone (“Goddamnit, woman, where the fuck is my supersuit!?!”) But come on, a Black superhero calling himself “Frozone?” If you know anything about Black people, you know the highest compliments pertain a low temperature. It was Black people who created the term “cool” or “that’s cold” for an insult. Not to mention the immortal phrase, “Cooler than the other side of the pillow.” With that in mind it’s inconceivable that a Black guy---especially one like Samuel Jackson---would call himself “Frozone.” Nope. It would be straight up “Ice.” Or “Chill” with EMPD’s “You Gots Ta Chill” (which sampled “More Bounce To The Ounce” and “Jungle Boogie” for twice the funkiness) playing when he went into action.
THIS IS WHY ELF SEEMS SO GOOD
Christmas With The Kranks opens at number three, and the only thing less funnier than the commercials for this film is footage from the war. Tim Allen is not funny. He has never been funny. One of the punishments on The Seventh Level of Hell is being forced to watch his sitcom, films and stand-up for the rest of eternity (along with Eddie Griffin). And given the semi-comeback Jamie Lee Curtis seemed about to have after her great turn in Freaky Friday last year, this is two giant steps back. And it makes her look like shit to boot. She was never typically pretty to begin with, but did herself a true disservice with the plastic surgery she openly regrets. Cinemax has been running The Vikings, which starred her parents, Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis at their peak and it’s a cruel twist of fate she got none of that beauty (but she did get mom’s rack). And the presence of Dan Ackroyd is as sure as sign of a film’s misery as Tom Arnold.
MOVIE BUSINESS 101
The Polar Express is holding at number four, thanks in no small part to the rising holiday tide. No matter. There’s no way it’s going to make the money it needs to be profitable until it hits DVD. See, all the estimates we do for box office (3x budget) are now out the window, because for studios, DVD is where the money is finally made. To a certain extent, theatrical venues are becoming little more than giant commercials for DVD’s. A recent article in The New York Time Magazine reports that now up to 63% of a film’s total revenue now comes from DVD. So these sillly box office calculations are little more than gravy. The real meat won’t be until Best Buy and Wal-Mart serve it up to the public. This why they’re planning sequels to such mediocre performing films like The Punisher, Hellboy and even The Hulk. With that in mind, sadly, this film will probably turn a profit, especially if they release it on DVD next Christmas. Every parent will buy it for their kids to keep them quiet during the holidays and that ugly fucker Bing will get more money to have more illegitimate babies from movie stars like Liz Hurley and Nicole Kidman, who are obviously willing to trade looks for financial security.
LUCKY IT’S NOT NATALIE PORTMAN
The SpongeBob Squarepants Movie is down to number five and Scarlet Johansson is one of the voices for this film. I’m sorry, but she’s essentially got a fucking monotone like her genetic offshoots, Laurie Prepon (That 70’s Show) and Angela Lindvall. What could she possibly bring to an animated film other than the geek need of the filmmakers to meet her? At least when the South Park guys had Natasha Henstridge on their show they admitted it was just about meeting her.
OLIVER THE OVERRATED
Alexander opens at number six and I swore long ago to never again see an Oliver Stone film. I just can’t handle the misogyny and pretension any more. I was all set to ignore this one too----until I found out that Rosario Dawson was going to be naked in it. Not just naked, GLORIOUSLY NAKED! This had me thinking maybe, just maybe. Then I saw the almost three hour running time. Oh, hell no. Not for a movie so obviously bad by a filmmaker so consistently disappointing with a star with no real justification for his stardom. It’s time to shut down the “Colin Farrell is a star” PR machine. He’s had nothing but opportunities to prove himself and failed miserably in every venue. From indie film to big summer blockbusters, at best they just haven’t been too bad. At worst, they’re Daredevil (in which, ironically, he was the best thing). This is obviously another in the “miss” column and even it’s a megabudget, A-list film, we need to just let it go. He’s simply not a lead actor. Like Jude Law, it doesn’t matter how much people want to fuck them, they simply cannot open films. And how obvious is it that Colin Farrell is simply not a fucking blonde. He looks horrible! And that’s your first fucking step! Not to mention there’s no great historical resonance in the story of Alexander to warrant this film. Yeah, yeah, he conquered half the world before he as twenty-six, but at that time, people barely lived into their 30’s, so technically he was a middle-aged man when he did it. Joining Colin Farrell is Angelina Jolie (playing his mom), another actor with no hits to justify her A-list status (aside from the fact that nearly every man and woman alive wants to fuck her), and Val Kilmer completing the hat trick (his last official hit was Batman Forever…in 1995!). But it’s no real surprise seeing Anthony Hopkins here. He’s worked with Stone before, but outside of that he’s pretty much a whore of an actor these days (from the Michael Caine School of Acting Prostitution), so he’d probably here regardless.
NOT WITH A BANG, BUT A WHIMPER
Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason is down to number seven and this piece of crap may be Hugh Grant’s swansong. He’s been bitching about how boring he finds acting for years, but now it seems as though he means it (dating an heiress makes it easier to quite working). Personally, I think he just had his first rejection by a young actress, because offscreen, the man was seriously about pussy. All of you thought he was joking, but as Cary Grant said in The Bishop’s Wife, “I’m at my most serious when I’m joking.” And the great Cary saw the end of his career in a mediocre film, Walk Don’t Run. It would be sad if Hugh Grant did the same. Come on, one more film with Richard Curtis (the writer of Love Actually, Four Weddings & A Funeral, Notting Hill and the Bridget Jones’ Diary screenplay). Hell, even Two Weeks Notice would have been a better end than this.
LEWIS CARROLL WAS EVEN CREEPIER
Finding Neverland enters the top ten at number eight and I have no fucking interest in this whatsoever. Why on earth would you make a fictional story about a real event? If the story is so damn interesting, then fucking tell it! Why change things? I mean, obviously there’s no need to go into how the boys Peter Pan was based upon all seemed to meet horrible ends (one died in WWI, two others committed suicide including the one named “Peter”), but why eliminate the fact their father was still alive when J.M. Barrie met them (and was understandably annoyed by the attention paid to his sons by this man who liked to take photos of nude boys)? Or the incredible bullshit idea that his play before this one was a flop to generate false drama. This total manipulation of events only shows a contempt for the audience (“Oh, they won’t accept his surrogate father role if we show the real one.” “We need him to struggle professionally”). I mean, was it too fucking hard to keep all five boys that they had to make it four!?! I could almost understand this with a mainstream audience, but this is the fucking arthouse crowd! They’re supposed to sophisticated enough to accept this! To their credit, the Brits ripped this fairy tale from day one, forcing Miramax to adapt the line that this is a fictional story based on real events. It seems they’re a nation of freaks who can accept that a literary idol can be a flawed, three-dimensional human being.
THE END
Ray is down to number nine and After The Sunset closest out the top ten at number ten and not even DVD sales will save this piece of shit and for that I rejoice---but I will watch those Salma Hayek scenes on cable, because DAMN! Did I mention the woman is fine as hell!?! And you know who once made a film with Pierce Brosnan? Allison Doody. The circle is now complete.
SEX ON THE BRAIN…AND NOWHERE ELSE
Not breaking the top ten is Kinsey, the bio of sex research pioneer, Alfred Kinsey starring Liam Neeson and my girl, Laura Linney. It took every ounce of motivation I had to see it, because oddly enough, I’m not all that interested. Yeah, I know it’s sex, but it’s a bio pic and they’re all the same: fudged details, forced drama, old actors in young makeup or young actors in old makeup, and the most incomprehensible convention two characters combined into one (how the fuck do you do that?). In any case, I don’t know enough of Kinsey to pick this apart, but it’s still your average bio pic. The content notwithstanding, this looks like it could be a made-for-TV movie. Granted it, only cost about $10M and looks like it cost three times that, but for a movie about sex, it’s oddly very clean. It’s as by-the-book as an episode of Dragnet (you can almost see Joe Friday doing the sexual questionnaire: “You like it hard?” “Yeah.” “Real hard?” “Yeah.” “Well, that’s why they call it a hard on.”), without even the hint of a stylistic flourish. Then again, it’s about the intellectual pursuit of sex, not about gettin’ some. Unlike Finding Neverland, this film does go into some aspects of Kinsey’s dark side, such as his total detachment from his subject matter to the point where he not only sleeps with one of his male assistants (indie boy of the moment, Peter Sarsgaard), but allows him to sleep with his wife (Laura Linney) and ultimately cultivates wife-swapping amongst all his assistants (which include Chris O’Donnell and Timothy Hutton) and insisting that it shouldn’t get emotional. Not to mention interviewing a career pedophile and not reporting him to the police. Let’s face it, Kinsey was a bit of a freak, but it takes freaks to break down doors. Normal people don’t tend to go where no man has gone before, be it to the top of a mountain, across a sea or into the bedrooms of an insanely repressed America. In recent years, some of his research has come under justified scrutiny (his pedophile studies seeming came from just one man), but there would be no studies at all if not for him. But at the same time, Kinsey could not have done what he did without support from, of all bodies, Indiana University. Not to mention support from The Rockefeller Foundation, so obviously the winds of change were in motion, but little if any examination is given to this because it might serve to lessen his importance in grand scheme of things.
LIKE SUNDAY MORNING
Also not breaking the top ten is Easy, the story of slightly slutty girl looking for love in the big city with a platonic Black guy friend. Should I sue? Wait. The Black friend is tall and good looking (D.B. Woodside, who played the principal in the final season of Buffy) and it’s set in LA. Still, I think I have a case here. Remember when I said the difference between a bad corporate film and a bad indie film is at least the bad corporate film is trying to please you, but at least a bad indie film may still be interesting? Well, while this film does have some interesting moments (sex scenes with no music and some honest discomfort therein), it’s essentially the writer/director whacking off and expecting you to pay for it. Let me put it this way: the main character’s name is Jamie and the writer/director is Jane Weinstock (and I’ve got five bucks says she’s at least 20 pounds heavier than the actress she chose to play her). Jamie winds up sleeping with her former professor from college (Naveen Andrews, best known as “That Indian guy from The English Patient” and is currently on Lost), but then his ex returns suddenly and as a result of this latest disappointment she takes a 90 day vow of celibacy---just as she meets a nice Irish guy with his own show on Comedy Central. And here’s your big problem. Neither one of these guys is worth a shit as the script depicts them. The Professor is a boring poet and the Irish guy is supposedly funny, but you’d never know it from his dialogue. This is bad indie film. Actually, it’s worse. It’s mediocre indie film. This script needed no less than at least three more drafts before it was fit to be shot (the contrived way everyone she knows winds up in bed with each other should have been the first to go, especially when it’s her sister and her ex-boyfriend, which is so contrary to the characters, it borders on science fiction) and even on digital video I have no idea who’d put up money for it or how it saw the light of day when so much other product seeming goes straight to DVD or cable. I like Marguerite Moreau, who starred in my guilty pleasure, Queen of the Damned, but she’s still not enough to carry this the way say, Parker Posey carried Party Girl on her back.
LOOKING GOOD IS A STRUGGLE
So my struggle to get a new overcoat wasn’t quite over. You know how girls with eating disorders “see” something in the mirror that doesn’t exist in reality? Well, I was like that with my coat. For some strange reason, I kept telling myself I wore a 42S, when anyone who’s met me could tell you my scrawny ass could never fit into that. Not to mention, that’s not the size of my suits (yes, I actually have two). Well, for whatever reason, it took Surrogate Sister to come over and tell me, “What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s too big!” This is when light broke through the clouds and I realized I’d bought a coat two sizes too large for me. So I went back the next day and exchanged it for a coat exactly my size. The only problem with that is you’re supposed to buy an overcoat ONE SIZE LARGER SO IT CAN FUCKING GO “OVER” SOMETHING! Sigh. This means I had to go back, but the next day was Thanksgiving, so not only would the stores be closed, but the day after that was the busiest shopping day of the year, so when I did get there, most likely nothing would be left. This meant left only one alternative. This is how I wound up in Burlington at 7:00 am. Sigh. But I was hardly the only one there (and I won’t even get into the people in the Best Buy across the street). This time I wore a nice Black, wool sportscoat I strangely seem to own to test the size. There were none of the cashmere/wool blends in my size left, but ironically, I got the coat I’d wanted to begin with, which was much more traditional and goes down below my knees (“The Matrix has you”). This was $20 cheaper and since they only do credit, I applied it to my new winter boots. The total cost of all this was offset by mom’s birthday gift and yes, eBay sales of, yes, DVD’s (I thought about reducing my cable service to just HBO and my modem, but that only takes off $12 lousy bucks). Yes, Movie Buddy ’98 convinced me that I don’t need all of it, so some of it’s going. It’s like cutting off an arm, but I realized, so long as it’s not the arm I jerk off with I’ll survive. Besides, some porn got sold too, so I won’t be doing that anyway.
WHAT? NO TOOL?
I couldn’t sleep one night, so I found myself watching The 40 Most Awesomely Bad Metal Songs Ever. It was truly some funny shit, especially the commentary ripping these songs. One thing I must take exception to was “Du Hast” as one of the worst foreign language metal songs. Sorry, but “Du Hast” kicks ass. However, I will admit that one of my guiltiest pleasures, “17” by Kip Winger, is a piece of shit. But let’s not kid ourselves. Aside from his candyass nature (he once studied ballet), the real reason so many metal-heads hate Kip Winger was because he was so pretty, when metal has an even higher component of ugliness than basic rock (which explains a lot of the anger; gangsta rap is similar). He was even prettier than Bon Jovi (who was thankfully not even included as metal, so none of his crappy songs could take up at least 20 spots) and there’s nothing more men hate than pretty men. That “pretty boy” is used as a derogatory term amongst men more than proves this.
I GUESS “I KISSED A GIRL” DIDN’T MAKE THAT MUCH MONEY
So, in unloading CD’s I opted to trade rather than take cash, which is how I wound up with the new U2 and Gwen Stefani’s solo album. I haven’t listened to them enough to make a final decision, but the U2 is fine. The glory days are over, but at least they’re aging well unlike so many other groups who can’t seem to accept that being rich and middle-aged has pretty much drained them of inspiration. Poor Gwen Stefani, though. First, her husband has a lovechild who’s a model and now this album is getting panned. She’s an 80’s kid and her solo album is rich with it. And if there’s anything the world didn’t need it’s yet another person sampling the Isley Brothers’ “Between The Sheets.” And for a fucking song! It’s one thing for rap, but nothing annoys me more than people who sing over old songs! And it’s not like she’s not totally capable of writing a good song. There’s just no excuse for this kind of shit. My fave is the song “Hollaback Girl” which has the oh-so-Black refrain, “Oooh, this my shit/this my shit” and a cheerleader chant, which makes me envision Gwen Stefani in a cheerleading outfit. Suddenly, this becomes a good album. But an unexpected pleasure was the Vanity Fair Music Sampler from a month back. Believe it or not, there’s some good music on that from people like Loretta Lynn, Sonic Youth, and Jamie Cullum. The Ryan Adams song justifies some of his hype and cut by The Roots succeeds in cementing their rep, but the Jill Sobule’s “Freshman” is a canker sore of a song, meaning it hurts me to hear, but I can’t stop listening to it. Why does it hurt? Well, it’s about someone living like a fucking college student in New York because they’re trying to live a dream and envying someone who lives comfortable in the suburbs because they chose not to. Most painful lyric? “I live like a freshman/I still have a roommate/I even moved to Brooklyn/I still need a roommate.” Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch…
BUT IT AIN’T NO MAN-CRUSH. HE’S TOO UGLY.
Why do I love Jay-Z? In an interview, he was asked why he started wearing button-down shirts. His reply? “You can’t be running around in jerseys when you’re 30.” Holy shit. Is that maturity? From a fucking rapper? Finally, I can accept Beyonce being with his ugly ass. The man now has my total respect. In fact, his only mental flaw seems to be a need for her (how can an obvious mature adult spend so much time with a fucking child), but her thighs could make anyone compromise a principle.
11/22/04
“I swear they are all beautiful, everyone that sleeps is beautiful.” --- Walt Whitman
NEXT: A MOVIE ABOUT THE TRI-LATERAL COMMISSION
Opening at number one is National Treasure, and this is essentially an old-fashioned Disney type of film, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I remember enjoying that crap growing up. And given that I have a friend who is a resource when it comes to conspiracy theories and the Masons are a favorite topic for him, I kinda enjoyed that whole aspect of the film. And to top it off, there was a time when I was huge on the whole Founding Fathers thing, so I was actually somewhat primed for this film. So you’d think I’d enjoy this, right? Wrong. It’s as mediocre as mediocre can get. I mean, the only thing separating this from a made-for-TV movie are the production values---and they aren’t all that, it’s just that Washington D.C. always looks impressive onscreen. This should have been cut by twenty minutes and had its pace more than doubled, not to mention being given more than just a greedy bad guy, which Sean Bean has done so much, he could practically do it in his sleep and seems to be doing here. It really doesn’t make sense to have a movie about a secret society wherein the secret society isn’t a protagonist in the film. I mean, what fucking fun is a benevolent secret society? Both the good guy and the bad guy should have spent half this film fighting off evil Freemasons out to protect the treasure. Nicholas Cage also sleepwalks through his latest run as the uber-geek turned reluctant hero. It’s actually the hat trick of warmed-over acting, as Jon Voight appears here as well as Nicholas Cage’s dad. He was also the father of treasure hunter Lara Croft in the first film and again a secret society was part of it (perhaps the most famous secret society, The Illuminati, which is a very ironic statement). Jerry Bruckheimer just showed up to all of them with a check and said, “Look, you’ve done it before. We’ll knock it off in a couple of weeks and you can all make a little something to give your ex-wives. No big whoop.”
KID STUFF
The SpongeBob Squarepants Movie opens at number two and I’ve never watched the SpongeBob TV show. Ever. This another one of those things completely off my radar and beneath my interest level. It doesn’t matter how many articles I read about this being the new hip cartoon that even adults love, I still don’t care. Now I have a film to ignore. Yes, the trailer was pretty funny, but no. Nothing.
HE’LL ALWAYS BE BRODY FROM MALLRATS TO ME
The Incredibles is down to number three and as the voice of the bad guy is Jason Lee, who needed this like he needed air. Whatever small heat he got from Chasing Amy disappeared along with his hairline. And not only did he lose his hair, but he adopted the middle-aged male combover, rather than acting his age and buzzing it short. Also, he really can’t act. He just does that shouting thing. I mean, he does it well, but how many shouting misanthropes can you play? Actually, considering that’s exactly what he’s playing here, I guess one more.
THIS ALMOST MAKES UP FOR THE ELECTION. ALMOST.
The Polar Express is down to number four and I am taking no end of pleasure in watching this die. I can’t stand Robert Zemeckis and every time one of his films dies an angel gets his wings. And this makes two dead films in a year with Tom Hanks and his “go-to” directors, the other being Steven Spielberg. More joy in Mudville. But Hanks remains the nicest guy in show business. Why? Because yes, Peter Scolari has a role in this too.
I’D WRITE SOMETHING MYSELF, BUT I’M BUSY
Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason is down to number five and as it turns out, the Hugh Grant character isn’t in the book at all! Hah! I knew something was horribly wrong. If they really wanted to do something new with Bridget Jones they would have had him come to America for his job and she follows. Sigh. People are making millions for being morons and I’m sitting here giving stuff away for free.
THIS ALMOST MAKES UP FOR THE ELECTION, PART II
After The Sunset is down to number six and between this failure and the failure of Polar Express I’m almost giddy at the sight of my most hated directors failing so miserably. But can you believe this fat bastard, who deflowered Rebecca Gayheart and dated her for years, is now dating Serena Williams? And until you’ve seen a glammed up Serena Williams, you have no idea the severity of this crime. This fat turd is so unworthy of such an Amazon it hurts. And did I mention how fucking amazing Salma Hayek’s body is? Did I!?!
IT ALSO MEANS SHE WEARS TWICE AS MUCH UGLY GOLD
Ray is down to number seven and if all the Black people who bitched about there not being enough films with minority leads actually went to all the movies with minority leads, this film would have little more than just $4M more than its cost. I guarantee you more Black people saw The Grudge than saw this. And despite good reviews for both this and Collateral, it’s money that talks, so Jamie Foxx’s career as a leading man is pretty much over just as it’s begun. Good. ‘Cause I can’t stand his ass. And how the fuck is he dating Leila Arcieri? Don’t know her? She’s the green-eyed, half-Black, half-Italian (which means she’s lucky not to be in jail for something) girl who was on Son of The Beach.
GUESS KILLING VAMPIRES BURNS OFF BODYFAT
The Grudge is down to number eight and there are seemingly four TV shows always playing on some channel, somewhere: Seinfeld, Law & Order, Friends and now Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I swear, it’s on all the fucking time. What makes it sad is the painful difference between her body then and now. I’m talking breasts, hips and maybe even a little ass. But not anymore.
HALLOWEEN’S OVER, KIDS
The Seed of Chucky is down to number nine, followed by Saw, closing out the top ten at number ten.
SO FIRED THEY NEED A NEW WORD FOR IT
So, apparently I’ve lost the non-paying reviewing job I had too, so finally you cheap fucking sons-of-bitches have an excuse for not reading it. I knew it was in danger in July, when not only did I stop receiving my copies, but my editor told me that they were actually having problems even publishing the fucking magazine. In addition, when pages were cut, the section I was in (Quick Fix, because I know none of you fuckers ever saw it) was one of the first to go. Finally, my emails to him started bouncing back and his name disappeared from the masthead. Oh, well. IF it got published at all, this would have been the last column from September:
Stop me if you’ve heard this one: a scion of a wealthy family is running for office. His father was a successful politician, but he’s a doofus who speaks English like a second language. Yeah. That one. What’s sad about this very obvious take on our current president is that is comes from the talented hand of John Sayles. But this heavy-handed characterization is the closest thing to a flaw in his latest work, the political satire, Silver Town. Fortunately, even Sayles seems to know it’s pretty much a one-joke character (his name is “Dicky Pilager” for god’s sake) and doesn’t beat you over the head with it, just bringing the character in a regular intervals for a quick laugh and them pulling him out before it wears on you. The rest of the humor is much more deft and sly. Like most Sayles’ films, this is more like a novel, with many different, fully realized characters all tied to one event---and in this case that event is the dim politician (Chris Cooper) hooking a dead body in a river during an environmental photo op. The handlers (led by Richard Dreyfuss) scramble and hire a disgraced reporter-turned-investigator (Danny Huston), not to find out about the body, oh no, but just to threaten people they think might have staged it, one of whom happens to be the politician’s own sister (Daryl Hannah). Needless to say, he inadvertently starts finding out things about the candidate that they never wanted to surface. As with any Sayles’ film, you have a who’s who of indie actors present. Longtime alums Chris Cooper and Kris Kristofferson (the money behind the man) are joined by newcomers Thora Birch and Richard Dreyfuss. Also along are Maria Bellow, Billy Zane, Tim Roth, Daryl Hannah, James Gammon and Miguel Ferrer.
JUNGLE FEVER THREATENS A TERRIFIED NATION
So, ABC and the NFL issued an apology for a promo that involved a naked Nicolette Sheridan jumping into the arms of Terrell Owens, saying it was inappropriate for family viewing. Yeah, I’m sure none of the complaints were about the Very Blonde, Very White Nicolette Sheridan jumping into the arms of the Big Black Football player (6’3”, 226 lbs and not one ounce of fat). But you know what’s funny? The most racist states have the highest demand for interracial porn. The very same people who’d kill you in the day for it, are whacking off at night to it. America is a very strange and scary place. Ironically, something similar occurs in Britney Spears’ new video. It seems they salvaged something from the shoot where Britney Spears’ knee collapsed (precipitating the collapse of her tour and then entire career) for her “Outrageous” video. In that, she jumps into the arms of, perhaps, the one brutha you’d want her to be with less than Terrell Owens---no, not O.J.---Snoop Dogg. She then licks his lips. If you’re a White guy with sexual insecurities, this is not your week (I won’t even get into Lenny Kravitz boning Nicole Kidman earlier this year). But don’t worry. I swear that whole “sexually-insatiable-huge-penis-don’t-eat-pussy” thing just a myth (especially that part about not eating…never mind). I’d rather eat cheese and watch Justice League cartoons than ravage Mister Charley’s Woman.
ONE STEP CLOSER TO BLESSED SENILITY
So, I had a birthday last week (38). Don’t worry about forgetting it. I’d forget it if I could. Unfortunately, the closest to me won’t let me. By closest I don’t mean emotionally, I mean geographically. Around The Way Girl is a block away and Surrogate Sister is three blocks away and they harassed me more than anyone. Surrogate Sister called me no less than four times that day alone. Yes, I was avoiding her calls, but then she threatened to come cover. Besides, she offered me food. Cheese even. Sigh. I’m so weak that way. So, we started off at her place with a wine named after me (“Fat Bastard”) and some cheese, then we went to a place in Chelsea for tapas. It was nice place, the definition of cozy. An ideal place for a good date, but hell if it’s a lousy one. There we had dinner and a pitcher of so-so sangria. Next, we walked over to Flatiron Lounge, making phone calls along the way inviting friends. I took the opportunity to investigate strange numbers on my phone. Don’t ask why. I’d been drinking. In any case, Around The Way Girl met us there where we indulged in Surrogate Sister’s new favorite drink, French ’75, which is some sort of lemon and champagne concoction. Champagne is dangerous. There’s a reason it’s only indulged on certain occasions. If we drank it all the time, it would kill us. It goes down easy, gets you drunk quick, but the next morning that sugar will fucking kill you. I had two of those, (okay, maybe three) and a martini. It led to bad things, such as personal secret being inadvertently revealed and me calling my mom from the bathroom. Again, don’t ask why. I was drunk. But I wasn’t alone. Alcohol led to my ersatz version of Charlie’s Angels (Surrogate Sister’s friend also joined us, so there was a girl in every flavor) to decide they wanted to go dancing. So we walked up the block to a place I believe was actually called Discothèque. Being the only male with three women has its advantages. We got in free and there were free drinks, but I only had water from this point. Now, I’m old and haven’t been to club in forever, so I don’t know how “good” this particular club was, but I wasn’t impressed. It lacked an “atmosphere” and felt just like any other space. Believe it or not, but I was not “The Old Guy In The Club.” I know this because I saw him. And that sight alone pretty much guaranteed this would be my last club visit, because I refuse to be him. Thankfully, the girls all had to work the next day, so we weren’t there long. Around The Way Girl vanished first and we were soon to follow. Because my mother unfortunately raised me a certain way, we took a cab to Surrogate Sister’s place and I walked home from there (I can just hear my mother’s voice, “What do you mean you didn’t make sure she got home!?!”). On my drunken stroll home, I ran into another group of drunks on Restaurant Row singing “Rocking Robin” only they didn’t know the words, so I stopped to help them because I’m that kind of drunken, old, fat bastard. There were no cheese burgers this time, so there was no purging at 5am, but the sugar in champagne came along to kick my ass to the point where I couldn’t get out of bed until 1:30---when I realized I had a date at 2:30 with Movie Buddy ’98, who was buying me cake at The Little Pie Company on 14th St in the currently chic Meatpacking District. She brought her beautiful little baby girl, so between that and the cake, it was more than worth it. Now, normally a birthday often requires a stupid “gift to self” that one can ill afford. Being that I’m unemployed, that meant virtually anything I chose to buy could fill that category. I was actually looking for cheap boots when I went into Burlington Coat Factory (where you can smell the poverty), but somehow I wandered into the leather coat section (my leather coat is dying too) and then into the overcoat section (mine is a size too large for me and not black, which is inexcusable in NYC) where I fell in love with a very classic, black, single-breasted, wool overcoat (which could either be Humphrey Bogart or “My name is Neo”). I tortured myself with how I was going to afford it now (especially when I need new shoes more), when sad providence took a hand. Yes, because I am a pathetic middle-aged, unemployed man, I got a check from my mommy on my birthday. Sigh. So this allowed me to go back to get the coat, whereupon I noticed the wool cashmere blend for a little more. Because I’ve been so fucking crippled by my sisters (those my parents gave me and those I gave myself), I had to make phone calls for advice. These bitches have crippled my ability to make style decisions on my own between their “Those are nutcrunchers” and “I could never have sex in this room” and other digs and criticisms too numerous to mention. Finally, I chose one of two cashmere blends (it’s a touch modern, but fit better than the other) and headed out to engage the beast of buyer’s remorse. It’ll keep me busy until Surrogate Sister---who apparently now has veto power over my entire wardrobe---can see it and decide whether or not I’ll be returning it. Sigh. I used to be a man.
SHE CAN STILL BE MY BOSS
Okay, here’s reason #7163 why men run the world. That Apprentice show. I’ve never watched it, but I’ve seen the commercials and the Maria woman with short hair is prime wife material. She’s free to conquer the world while I take care the house and kids. I will be her househusband. That said, I was nonetheless disappointed to see her and a few others looking like skanks on the cover of Maxim. WHY!?! Isn’t the point of it all to prove your good business sense? What possible good can come out of your ass hanging out on the cover of a national magazine!?! Don’t get me wrong, part of me loves seeing her that way, but I was also very disappointed. She’s obviously not smart enough to make the kind of money I’d need to be comfortable in Manhattan. Now, I understand the whole male mentality of needing to reduce strong women to tits and ass. They’re threatened, so they want to bring them down. But why the fuck would the women go along with it!?! “Oh, I just wanted to show you could be strong and sexy” is probably the bullshit response you’ll hear. WHY!?! First of all, you were already sexy. Second, you don’t see men worrying about if anyone thinks they’re sexy so long as they have a lot of money. Notice the guy whose dick you’re all trying to suck, they guy you're all trying to work for, has never taken his shirt off to be on the cover of a magazine. Again, this is reason #7163 why men run the world. Oh, by the way, has a woman won that stupid show yet? No? Gee, I wonder why.
DEATH MAKES A MUSICAL
So Death takes another creative person in the form of Cy Coleman, who not only composed such musical as Sweet Charity, but also wrote songs like “The Best Is Yet To Come” and the incredible “Witchcraft.” He was 75, so it wasn’t all that shocking, but the man was still going strong and gearing up for the revival of Sweet Charity with Christina Applegate. Apparently the afterlife needs a lot of new entertainment. I’m telling you, if I’m Quincy Jones (71) or Lena Horne (87), I’m getting out of the tub very carefully these days and always wearing a hat when it’s cold.
A GEEK BREAK
If you haven’t seen the ESPN Sportscenter Star Wars commercial, you’re missing something damn funny.
YEAH, I’VE GOT BATMAN ON THIS
So, because I’m obsessed with my iPod now, I was looking to create a playlist of superhero songs. There are more than I imagined, but most of them suck outright. On a very short list are Stereo Fuse’s “Super Hero”; 3 Doors Down “Kryptonite”; XTC’s very nice “Supergirl” (“That's really super Supergirl/How you're changing all the world's weather/But you couldn't put us back together/Now I feel like I'm tethered/Deep inside your Fortress of Solitude/Don't mean to be rude/But I don't feel super/Supergirl”), and my new fave (which is actually old) Brian McKnight’s “Superhero.” He stole the riff flat out from School of Fish’s “Three Strange Days” and the guitar is mixed in poorly with a very lame solo, but it has great lyrics like “Kal El son of Jor El/All my secrets/You can never tell/And you know what/Especially about the kryptonite/And by the way/I can fly.” I’m sorry, but the geek in me just loves that shit! I have mixed feelings about Crash Test Dummies “Superman’s Song” and Herbie Mann’s disco flute classic “Superman” but they’re still better than 90% of all the other stuff.
11/15/04
“[Sex is] like money…not important until you’re not getting any.” --- Debbie Reynolds
BAD SUSHI INSPIRES SOMETHING LIKE SHARK TALE
Holding at number one is The Incredibles, and in an interview with Entertainment Weekly, writer/director Brad Bird takes a swipe at DreamWorks (they, on the other hand, released Shrek 2 the day this opened), pointing out that they seem to think all it takes is a couple of stars and some sitcom writers, whereas all the Pixar stuff comes from the imagination of writer/director. The Incredibles is based on Brad Bird’s own conflicts as a parent, while Finding Nemo is based on writer/director Andrew Stanton’s concern over being an over protective parent and his son’s love of fish. Even Monsters Inc., was inspired by that director’s wondering on where do the monsters in your closet go? It’s genuine inspiration versus assembly line filmmaking. And unlike the losers at DreamWorks, Pixar directors also appear in their films, usually in scene stealing roles. Andrew Stanton was the turtle in Finding Nemo and the funniest character in The Incredibles the costume designer for superheroes, Edna Mode, a very obvious riff on fashion icon Polly Mellon crossed with eurotrash. It’s voice by Brad Bird. In that context, it makes sense he also gave himself the funniest joke, which is how capes lead to superhero fatalities.
THERE’S A REASON WE DIDN’T SEE THAT DAMN KID MUCH IN TOY STORY
The Polar Express opens at number two and the Mighty Mediocre Team Up of director Robert Zemeckis and Tom Hanks happens again and am I the only one who finds the humans in this completely and utterly creepy? Sorry, but computer animation is still not at the level it needs to be to convey humans effectively. Stylized people, sure, but normal people? Ugh. I can’t see how any kid in the world could watch this for more than two seconds and not be terrified. This freaking thing cost $270M to make (and god knows how much more on prints and advertising, but figure the total is about $300M) and doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting it back. Unlike other films, this won’t have a built-in overseas market because not everyone celebrates Christmas, not to mention no life whatsoever after the holidays. And guess who partnered with Warner Brothers to create this disaster? The unwitting sperm donor to Elizabeth Hurley, Stephen Bing. The man doesn’t know what to do with his money or his dick. He spent $135M on this thing. How many indie films could he have made with that? Films that might actually be worth remembering, rather than one which is going to torture us two months out of the year for the rest of our lives. Compare this to say, Elf, which cost $32M (another $30M on prints and advertising, pushing it up to $62M, but still a fourth of this thing) and made $173M in the US alone ($218M worldwide, showing you just how Christmas doesn’t travel).
DID I MENTION SHE’S HOT?
After the Sunset, a.k.a, The Adventures of Thomas Crown’s Twin Brother With A Hotter Girlfriend, opens at number three and can we talk about just how amazing Salma Hayek’s body is? Oh. My. God. It’s just so freaking spectacular I can barely find the words. And I’m not alone, because this movie is 50% about her in tight jeans and cleavage…and her in a bikini…and her in lingerie. It’s a sight that makes me wonder why all women aren’t lesbians and explains why gay men still love beautiful women. She’s just so perfectly proportioned. Full breasts, flat stomach, tiny waist, round hips and an ass to put your drink on. I disagree with plastic surgery, but if you told me you were getting it because Salma Hayek made you feel inferior, I’d understand. I’d still think you were stupid and weak, but I would understand. For Josh Lucas not to be dating her anymore, he must have really fucked up, or she must be hell on wheels to date. Okay. I’m done with that. On to the movie. Well, there’s not much to discuss. It’s a piece of crap that can’t decide what it is, a light-hearted caper or dumbass buddy flick that tries to find laughs in adolescent homophobia. Either way, it blows. And let’s face it: everyone involved only did this for the money and a free trip to the Bahamas. They’re all sleepwalking through previous roles, killing time until it was time to go hang out on the beach with their families. Pierce Brosnan phones in the palest aspects of the much superior Thomas Crown Affair (and obviously didn’t bother to see a physical trainer before taking his shirt off). As mentioned before, Salma Hayek is just here to look good in various states of undress (and goddamn if she doesn’t at thirty fucking eight), probably saving her energy for one of her own projects. Don Cheadle also does a pale imitation of his great Snoop character from Out of Sight. I don’t know what the fuck Woody Harrelson is doing here at all. I hate to say it, but the roles he once played are now all played by Owen Wilson, and while I despise Owen Wilson, I could have very easily seen his brother in this role and at least he would have kept the aesthetics up a bit and made the romantic subplot with Naomie Harris a bit less gruesome to bear (watching an ugly, bald 40-something on top of an attractive 20-something is not what I pay for). But the ultimate reason this movie sucks can be summed up in four little words: directed by Brett Ratner. This no talent hack resides on the list with Andrew Bay of creatively bankrupt filmmakers whose entire existence is a plague on cinema. It’s no wonder he couldn’t get the actors to do anything but what he’d seen other, more talented directors had done. I wouldn’t be surprised if his “directions” consisted solely of “Do what you did in that other movie. That was cool.” Stupid fat bastard. The only thing he got right was put Salma Hayek in as little clothing as possible.
YOU KNOW CHARLIE BROWN WOULD HAVE ONE DEPRESSING JOURNAL
Bridget Jones The Edge of Reason opens at number four and I love the first Bridget Jones movie so much, I couldn’t bear to see this obviously inferior sequel. Your very first clue is if the original director doesn’t return, which is the case here and apparently Renee Zellweger had something to do with that. Yeah, that’s smart. The director who gave you your biggest hit as a leading lady and a well deserved Oscar Nomination (I still say she should have won because comedy is harder than drama) is the person you get fired. Now, I know not every movie is as bad as the trailer makes it out to be, but honestly, in terms of storytelling, where exactly was there to go with this character? How many times can you watch her make a fool out of herself without it bordering on Charlie Brown/Ben Stiller type of sadomasochism? And just how the hell do you manipulate the story that Hugh Grant shows up again? He was a freaking co-worker! She only knew him because they worked together! Yes, I know this is based on the book, but the book obviously made the same mistakes. Ironically, the only point of interest the film held for me was Hugh Grant, but not enough to make me pay to see him.
NEXT: CHUCKY THE SERIES…RIGHT AFTER WILL & GRACE!
Seed of Chucky opens at number five and I can’t believe they’ve managed to keep squeezing money out of this character. In fact, these movies stopped being horror films after the third. This is the second comedy installment. And do we pity Jennifer Tilly or no? Granted, when you’ve got a voice like that, you don’t have as many options as other actresses, but Melanie Griffth was doing pretty well for awhile there in the 80’s and Jennifer Tilly’s prettier and has real breasts. Unfortunately, Meg Tilly was the one in her family and she is to her what Randy Quaid is to Dennis.
BY THE WAY, “WHAT THE FUCK” ACTUALLY DOES GIVE YOU FREEDOM
Ray is down to number six and yes, that is Curtis Armstrong doing as nice turn as Ahmet Ertegun, the man behind Atlantic Records. If you don’t know who he is, know that most of the great modern music in the 20th Century is a result of this man’s love of music and willingness to let artists do their thing. In any case, if you don’t know Curtis Armstrong, know that he gave the great “what the fuck” speech to Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Though most of you know him as “Booger” from Revenge of the Nerds, a movie I’m proud to never having seen.
WHERE STARLETS GO TO DIE
The Grudge is down to number seven, followed by Saw at number eight and making an appearance in this is one of my favorite B&T actresses, Dina Meyer. It seems that now that she’s too old to play the “hot girl” roles she once did, Dina’s making a stab for some indie cred. Also along is Monica Potter, whose claim to fame is that she looks like a prettier, blonde Julia Roberts. Gee, I can’t imagine why that didn’t work out for her. But she put necessity before pride and now has a gig on Boston Legal.
NOW THAT I’M
Down to number nine is Shall We Dance and now Jennifer Lopez has decided she’s ready to have a kid. Now. Now when she’s with the man whose ugliness is only exceeded by Puffy Daddy’s. Yeah, because there aren’t enough ugly people in the world. I’m not saying Ben Affleck is the best looking man in the world, but he’s a damn sight better than this. Not to mention his genes look fairly weak, so hers would have won out in the end. Also, interracial kids do tend to come out on the attractive side no matter what mom and dad look like. I don’t why that happens. Also, this movie didn’t do that well. Think if it had been a hit she’d be talking kids? No, me neither.
HOW ABOUT WE DON’T LIKE THE ENGLISH DOING OUR WOMEN?
Finally, Alfie closes out the top ten at number ten and blame is trying to be assigned for its failure, with one of the moronic producers blaming Bush’s re-election. How lame is that? Grow up, you little wuss. How about JUDE LAW IS NOT A STAR! How about YOU CUT OUT ALL THE SEX! And YOUR MAIN CHARACTER IS A JERK! Maybe they should have played up that Geddy “Long Duk Dong” Watanabe plays a small part in the film and get all those Sixteen Candles fans in there. Ultimately, this film is more style than substance and never more proves it than the closing credits, which gives us glossy black and white photos of not just the cast, but the writer, director and producers. Yeah, those are people we need to see. There’s a reason they weren’t in front of the camera.
IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCEED…
So Death made another pass to get Arafat and while he was around, he decided to take care of some other long overdue business. No, not Mickey Rooney, but Ol’ Dirty Bastard. No, I don’t feel any sympathy for this disgusting waste of space. If he were an animal the state would have put him down years ago. Sorry, but when he collected welfare on MTV FROM THE BACK OF A FUCKING LIMO (!) he became persona non grata to me. Also lost this week was Harry Lambert. Only hardcore geeks will know what that means, as Harry was the co-creator of the original Flash from the 40’s. You know, the guy who wore the little sliver helmet of Mercury? That’s a much bigger loss Ol’ Dirty Bastard. Harry created something that has entertained millions for over sixty years. Hell, we’re now on to the third Flash, Wally West (nephew of the second Flash, Barry Allen, who is dead) and the fourth Flash (Barry Allen’s grandson, Bart, who was transported from the future to save his life) just popped up on Smallville two weeks ago. What that other fuckwit will be remembered for is beyond me.
THESE KIDS AND THEIR VIDEOS WITHOUT TABLES BEING OVERTURNED
Because I’m old, I don’t see many new videos (too busy watching VH1 Classics). Not to mention that, whenever I turn to MTV all I see is that Real World chick with the huge breasts yelling at someone. I got lucky last week and actually caught some of the Destiny’s Child video, “Soldier.” Now, normally I’d question a mega pop star singing about wanting to date a street thug, but she has been with Jay-Z for a few years now, so I guess it’s kinda true. No, what got me was the inclusion in the video of her ugly, dumbass, got-knocked-up by a jock sister, who looked like she was ready to drop any second and the idiot who was forced to marry her at gunpoint. Yeah, I’m sure mom and dad are proud of this union, when it was practically a given that she was going to join Destiny’s Child when they reformed and had actually been shoehorned into movies. And knocked up by a jock! Who the hell over the age of 16 gets knocked up by jock unless he’s a freaking millionaire!?! I saw the Gwen Stefani video too, but again, since I’m old, I remember when Tom Petty did the Alice in Wonderland thing and he did it a whole lot better and sure as hell didn’t drag the video out for ten minutes. But if you have to look at someone for ten minutes, Gwen Stefani is a good choice. And while I could care less about the actual rap in Eminem’s new video, it was fun watching the little White girl and the little Asian girl from Missy Elliot’s video still puttin’ their thing down. How sad is it that the Black girl from that video was the worst dancer? But this is what makes America great.
WHAT NEXT, THE FREAKING JO-BOXERS?
So my favorite show, Bands Reunited, return with a few episodes, but they were obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel. Information Society? Were they even a real band? Vixen I’ll give you, and even Scandal, but Information Society? This should be the end of this series. When you’re going after Information Society, it’s all over but the shouting. Even Scandal was pushing it. Who really cares? Weren’t they always nothing but a supporting for Patti Smyth, who’s nothing to shout about either. Even Berlin had a better track record, not to mention more interesting songs. What was funny and sad was that all the men in the band had aged better than she did. But what I loved about Vixen was that the drummer knew exactly who he was and why he was there! Finally! Do these people live under a fucking rock!?! After the first season they should all know this fucker on sight and probably be expecting him.
THE OLD IN AND OUT
So, HBO has another show about the making of porn, but that’s all I know, because seeing it actually wasn’t on my priority list. Sorry, but what else is there to say? It’s all the same. Porn is made in non-descript buildings in San Fernando Valley. Porn makes more money than Major League Baseball. Women make more than men. It’s more mainstream than ever. That’s barely one fucking show, much less a five part series. And none of them ever really get into the dark side of it that explains how normal people can fuck on film for money, much less some of the acts these girls perform that border on freak show material. And they only talk to the people on top who make the big money working with actual directors and crews. They never talk to the 19-year-old girl fresh out of a trailer park in Des Moines who was stripping at 16, did her first movie the day after her 18th birthday (having set it up three months earlier) and is doing double-anal gang bangs because she’s not pretty enough to make the big money, but needs a lot of it to support her crystal meth addiction. Strange how that story never makes it. Or that most of the men have done time. Or that most of these girls are also hookers. Yes, I know you’re shocked, but it serves to reason that men will pay more to fuck their favorite porn star than they ever would your average hooker. But I will give them credit. This time they actually cover gay porn. In any case, when it stops conflicting with The Daily Show, maybe I’ll catch it.
11/08/04
“Alcohol is like love: the first kiss is magic, the second intimate, the third routine. After that you just takes the girl’s clothes off.” --- Raymond Chandler
BECAUSE THE INCREDIBLE FOUR WOULD HAVE GOTTEN THEM SUED
Opening at number one to no one’s surprise is The Incredibles, and if you’re a geek this film will put you in heaven. It’ll mean nothing to normal folks, but geeks will see influence from the Silver Age of Comics (the 50’s to the rest of you), the obvious Fantastic Four inspiration (a family of super-heroes, one who stretches, one who’s strong and one who turns invisible), The Flash (a speedster), The X-Men (see Iceman depicted the way he is in the comics and not the X-Men movies), and the Justice Society of America (who were forced into retirement in the 50’s by Joe McCarthy). Sporting a sleek mid-century design style, The Incredibles tells the story of a forcibly retired pair of superheroes now raising their super-kids in the suburbs. In a super-Cheever type of characterization, Mr. Incredible hates his new life and continuously looks back to his past the point where he forces his buddy Frozone (voiced by Samuel L. Jackson, and when I think of how much funnier this film would be if they let him curse…) to monitor police bands and secretly rescue people. The film’s not so subtle subtext is that mediocrity is celebrated while genuine exceptional behavior is literally made illegal. Even the villain’s (and you have to have one) ultimate plan is a world where everyone is on the same level. As an old geek, to finally see the powers of superheroes fully realized in a way live action never could almost brought me to tears. The writer/director, Brad Bird showed his comic book love in his first film, Iron Giant, wherein Superman actually played a vital emotional component, in this film we get it fully unleashed. And it’s not just old school stuff, but some darker components of modern comic books also make an appearance (there’s a hysterical black humor segment about the danger of capes). In the late 60’s Bond films were so successful, some comics emulated them, like Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and even Captain America. He obviously also read those comics too, because at one point the movie turns into one of better Bond films, complete with a mad scientist, secret island, femme fatale and dozens of henchmen to have their butts kicked when The Incredibles go into action---which brings up my one geek complaint: they kill these henchmen at times just like Bond does. This is a problem because the film so embraces the old fashioned fun spirit of superheroes who never, ever took a life. Here, you see bad guys’ ships being destroyed left and right without even the slightest hint that they bailed out in time. Some even done by the kids! It may seem silly to be concerned with this, but it’s very logical within the confines of the initial concept of old-fashioned superheroes with names like Mr. Incredible and Elasti-Girl.
SISTAS ARE DOIN’ IT FOR THEMSELVES
Ray holds at number two and continuing her career as the “go-to-supporting-sista” is Regina King and you are not a Black male actor in Hollywood if Regina King has not played your sister, girlfriend or wife. From Eddie Murphy to Ice Cube to Will Smith, she is the Anne Archer of Black Male Leads. She’s not the hottie you want, but she’s the homemaker. Ironically enough, in this she’s not the homemaker, but one of Ray Charles’ many affairs (and mother to his illegitimate child). It’s actually cute little Kerry Washington who is the wife. You know her best from Save The Last Dance as the sista to Sean Patrick Thomas (goddamn, why are Black people so fucking Irish?). And for all you geeks out there, she will be in the Fantastic Four movie as Alicia Masters. Yes, Alicia Masters, the blind sculptress lover of The Thing---who eventually winds up with Johnny Storm (and I’m not sure just what she was to The Silver Surfer).
AND DAMN IT, I LIKED LAKE PLACID!
The Grudge is down to number three and appearing in this is Bill Pullman, who apparently he couldn’t parlay his While You Were Sleeping/Independence Day bounce into genuine leading man status. I think it’s those weird-ass teeth. Otherwise, he’s perfect for all the roles Harrison Ford doesn’t want. It’s no wonder he played the Han Solo parody in Spaceballs, because that’s what he is, a bargain basement Harrison Ford. The K-Mart-Target-JC Penny Harrison Ford. It’s too bad, because he does shady well. He can play that devoted family man who’s also sleeping with his son’s girlfriend or wife’s sister. Probably his best work is a film called The Guilty, which I caught on cable one night. He plays a successful, ruthless lawyer on the rise who rapes his not-quite-innocent secretary, and when she threatens his career, he unknowingly tries to hire his illegitimate son he never knew about (who has actually come looking for him) to kill her. The son becomes enamored with the girl and then finds himself in the position of having to protect her from his psychotic pal who is in debt to the mob and willing to kill them both to get the money. Also starring in his is Gabrielle Anwar (who was the Hot Young Thing for two seconds) and Joanne Whalley (who was The English Brunette before Liz Hurley and now Kate Beckinsale). What makes the film work is that Pullman actually feels guilt over the things does and works to protect his son from the trouble he got him into. And while Anwar is the victim of a sexual assault, beforehand she’s more than prepared to sleep with her married boss and be his kept mistress. Even her best friend doesn’t like the way she uses sex to control men. But after the assault, she doesn’t blackmail Pull for money. What she wants is his resignation from his recent appointment to the Federal Bench, because she thinks it’s wrong for him to have it in light of what he’s done. Also, Joanne Whalley is Pullman’s wife who’s having an affair, but is prepared to end it when she thinks her husband needs her. No one is a saint, but no one is two dimensionally bad either. But in the end, out of the three “bad” people, two are dead and one wishes they were. Needless to say, it ain’t no comedy.
BOOTY IS WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT, SO STOP ASKING HIM
Saw is down to number four, followed by Alfie, which opens at number five and this is a guaranteed get-you-laid movie despite its dark tone. Like Sinatra in the 40’s and Elvis in the 50’s, seeing Jude Law looking great, in great clothes, having sex for an hour and forty-five minutes should arouse any woman enough to get you some (if you don’t fuck it up by doing something stupid…like talking). When I was going to see it, a mother who was taking her son to see The Incredibles (she was able to read my geekiness well enough to ask me if I were going to see it) remarked wistfully she couldn’t take him to see it. It was very obvious she was dying to see the pretty, pretty man. She might as well have been wearing a shirt that read “Hey Jude, Make This Better” with an arrow pointing down to her crotch. A remake of the film that made Michael Caine a star (apparently every classic film he ever made is being remade these days), Alfie is the story of an unrepentant womanizer and the damage he causes to others and to himself. I’ve never seen the original, mainly because I could never overcome the idea of ugly-ass Michael Caine as a successful womanizer. Now, Jude Law I buy, even though I get irritated with movies that suggest men should be like kids in a candy store because of all the gorgeous women that are here. Yeah, New York is a treasure chest of beautiful women---IF YOU FUCKING LOOK LIKE JUDE LAW!!! For the rest of us, it’s like walking through Neiman Marcus when you’re a public school teacher. So many pretty things you will never, ever have. The film takes place during a winter in Manhattan (though filmed partially in Liverpool, which explains a lot), which suits the chilly emotional reserve of Alfie. This ain’t no romantic film. In fact, it’s more anti-romance. And in an oddly refreshing turn, ain’t no happy ending neither. Oh, no one dies, but if you’re expecting Alfie to have a typical “oh-I’m-going-to-change-my-ways” moment, followed by a montage of him feeding orphans, you’re going to be disappointed, my friend. Personally, I could have used a little more graphic sex. I mean, you’ve got the “R” rating, why not make the most of it? The most sensual scene has to be Jude Law and Nia Long smoking, drinking, listening to The Isley Brothers and eventually going at it on the pool table. Sorry, but when you have two people this hot (Jude Law shows why the ribbed tank top t-shirt remains sexy after all these years and Nia Long is just…damn), you owe it to us to show as much of them as possible, not some fade away to “…next morning.” And as un PC as it is, these people make smoking look sexy. Unfortunately, I’ve had too much experience with tequila to find it erotic. Watching them do shots only made me queasy (not helped by the unnecessary jump cuts which threaten to kill the mood). The other women are Marisa Tomei (hot, single mom), Jane Krakowski (Long Island Wife), Susan Sarandon (older, Female Alfie) and the infamous Sienna Miller (crazy hot girl), who shows just how she broke up Jude Law’s marriage (oh my god, actual nudity). Ironically, she comes closest to the most fully realized relationship with Alfie, (before the fact she’s bi-polar comes out), but it’s the most visually shallow scene, looking more like a Vogue or GQ layout come to life. And if you’re looking for any reason behind Alfie’s shallow behavior, again, disappointment awaits you. I get the feeling a lot was left on the cutting room floor, but I don’t need to have every little detail explained. He’s a jerk and that’s just how it is. I can live with that. Actually, the film’s need to give him a kind of closure with every woman he sleeps with is probably the most forced aspect about it. They should just disappear, like real life, not pop up again when you’re out on the boardwalk or stopping at a café.
IT’S THE RED HAIR THAT MAKES HER EXTRA ANNOYING
Shall We Dance is down to number six giving Susan Sarandon two films in the top ten (back-to-back in fact) where she shows how hot she still is in her 50’s, but is she on the cover of GQ? Nope, we’ve got a fucking adolescent. Yes, I’m still pissed about that. While Susan Sarandon is one of those celebrities who needs to shut the fuck up and enjoy living in their bubbles of privilege, I do enjoy her onscreen---except when she breaks out that awful fucking southern accent. And she never stops doing it! It’s awful! Even in Bull Durham, which I adore, it’s awful.
SUITIABLY, THIS MOVIE BIT
Shark Tale is down to number seven and while I hate Disney, I’m looking forward to The Incredibles’ grosses smoking this like a pack of Kools. Hell, it’s already done half the business of Shark Tale in the first weekend. If I were Michael Eisner I’d anonymously send Jeffery Katzenberg a collection of the positive reviews for The Incredibles and the negative reviews for Shark Tale (then again, he probably already did it when Shark Tale came out, sending Finding Nemo’s clippings along with a picture of the Oscar it won). Disney is evil in its practices, but Dreamworks is evil in its mediocrity, which is so much worse.
STILL WAITING TO SEE WHO’LL BE THE FIRST IN PORN
Friday Night Lights is down to number eight, followed by Ladder 49 at number nine and what the fuck is that MTV chick doing in this movie? Hell, in any movie? The totally non-descript broad from Real World England somehow managed to land a role in this, pissing off every woman everywhere who ever took an acting class. I said before that White actors never have to worry about competing with rap stars for work, but apparently they do have to worry about Reality TV stars. And she’s not even that pretty (which would have made it partially understandable). What next? Is that really slutty drunk from the Vegas one going to have her own sitcom? Is the angry Black chick with the huge breasts going to get her own talk show? And notice it’s only the women. Judd Winnick is now a lousy comic book writer, driving me off my favorite characters because he thinks it’s really “cool” to have superheroes fucking, but that’s about it. None of the other men amount to shit. Then again, only an idiot would agree to be on this show in the first place.
THE END
Finally, Team America: World Police closes out the top ten at number ten.
WHAT’S WORST THAN LOSING? LISTENING TO LOSERS WHINE ABOUT IT.
Okay, so they lost. While I’m disappointed I can’t say I’m surprised. Voting “against” someone never really works, because it means you don’t care about the person you’re voting for and if you don’t care, why vote at all? And let’s face it, Kerry didn’t really give people much to care about. And despite Puffy’s “Vote of Die” campaign, young people still sat on their asses for the most part. Shocked? Don’t be. In 1971 the voting age was lowered from 21 to 18 (the 26th Amendment to the Constitution). Now you’d think in the wake of Vietnam and the social revolutions of the 60’s, the young people of the time would jump at the chance to change America, right? Wrong. A little less than half of them (49%) actually bothered to vote. And Nixon, who---like Bush---insisted that most of the country was actually conservative and hated those long-haired hippie freaks, was reelected in 1972 by a landslide. And yes, I do take a dark pleasure in it. The simple knowledge that Michael Moore and his ilk have been shown just how little they fucking matter takes some of the sting out of it for me. Right now the Democrats are questioning just how much of a liability Hollywood is---something anyone, anywhere could have told them months ago. Gee, you think being associated with pretty, rich, prievleged people without real jobs and holier-than-thou attitudes might be a liability for you? Do ya, Sherlock!?!I mean, hell, at least Gore won the popular vote. Not this time, baby. Sigh. When are the Democrats learn you can’t pussies in an arena filled with dicks? If you aren’t fucking someone in politics that means you’re getting fucked. I actually came away liking Edwards in the end because he was just being a dick by insisting Kerry not concede until the Ohio counting had been done---which wasn ‘t going to be for another 13 days! He knew they’d lost, so making people sweat that out was merely to piss the Republicans off---and exactly the kinda spiteful thing I would have done. Yes, I am that asshole coach who demands a review of a play even when my team is being crushed 48 to 3 in the fourth quarter. I still won’t win, but I’m going to spit in your face all the way down. What’s even more fun, was that it was also him jockeying for 2008. Which is why Hilary Clinton criticized him for it, because she’s looking at ’08 as well! Yes, they’re already fighting for 2008 now and if there’s someone who knows about getting fucked in politics, it’s Hilary. And be careful what you wish for, Mr. President. Second terms have always been notoriously perilous, especially since Eisenhower. Nixon got a second term, which ended in Watergate and disgrace. Reagan got a second term, which ended in Iran-Contra. Clinton got a second term and almost got impeached. Given that the FBI is already investigating Halliburton, this could be one curse that continues. And if you’re really, really bitter, know that Ohio and Florida will suffer the most under a bad economy and any mistakes made to social security, respectively. But god forbide we just grow up, accept it and move the fuck on. See, this is how you can tell most of us on the left don’t play sports, because sports teaches you HOW TO FUCKING LOSE!
I DON’T WANNA WORK/I JUST WANNA BANG ON THE DRUM ALL DAY
So, I actually had a job interview last week and you know what I realized? I don’t want to do anything (even this job which literally required me to watch TV and then write about it). I hated that I had an appointment at noon. That bothered me more than Kerry losing the day before. I love having my days completely and utterly free and resent any intrusion by anyone, anywhere. But damn if I didn’t look good in that suit. It’s my blue Cerrutti and you can’t get better than an Italian designer who is French. All of the style, but none of the tacky excess (yes, Versace, I’m talking about you). To top it off I had my iPod and as I walking down the street Mark Morrison’s “Return of The Mack” came up and the slight limp I still have from my foot being hurt suddenly became a bounce and I worked that shit all way down Park Avenue.
ALLIES IN THE WAR AGAINST CHEESE
So the cursed lasagna was hardly the foe it was years ago thanks to my eager recruits. Surrogate Sister, Around The Way Girl and Star Trek Woman all came around to help me battle the beast, and before I knew it, the dish was more than half gone. Around The Way Girl, whose arm had to be twisted into order to get her to eat it, quickly informed me that I would be feeding her at least once a week from them on. Not until I see a ring on this finger, baby. Not until I see a ring. And a promise that I will not have to work. I froze a large chunk of it, not just to protect myself, but also for Surrogate Sister, who was called off to Mexico on business to work on a shoot with Heidi Klum. Yep, she’s got it like that. I knew years of putting up with these silly bitches---I mean, years of rewarding friendships with these wonderfully complex, intelligent women would pay off for me in the end. On top of it, Around The Way Girl is preparing to go to business school, while my baby sister is now in grad school, so I expect to be kept in my old age. In any case, she really didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. I never doubted for a second that Heidi Klum wasn’t a rocket scientist (or that she had even a single pubic hair). Nor was I surprised that Seal was there and was a nice guy, taking care of the baby that is his in every way but biologically. And do you think Heidi Klum isn’t thrilled? I mean, who would you want as your baby’s daddy? Seal or the 50-something Eurotrash you fucked to get it?
HE WAS THE BLACK GUY WHO DIES IN ENTER THE DRAGON
That is Jim Kelly in that LeBron Nike commercial! And after thirty years, he seems to be an even worse actor than he was before, which is kinda scary, because even bad actors learn at least to play themselves well onscreen. But all the best commercials now are sports related. My favorite is the NFL Channel’s faux commercials for the “Big Man Dance Off” where they have huge fucking defensive linemen dancing. It’s so fucking funny it should be a real show. The next is the MasterCard commercial with Peyton Manning and defensive linemen on a retreat---where they can’t stop planning to hurt him. Hey, what can I say? Big guys are funny.
I KINDA ALWAYS KNEW I’D END UP YOUR EX-WIFE
So apparently Gavin Rossdale has a 15-year-old daughter who is a model, by a woman he swore up and down to Gwen Stefani that he was never involved with. Oboy. You can start the egg-timer for this marriage right now. He’s been a godfather to the girl, but we don’t know if he really knew if she was his child all along. Either way, trust is dead in that house. Dude, you said you didn’t sleep with her, but then it turns out that you did and the child is a fucking model, and your wife, who wants a family so badly she wrote a whole fucking song about it (“Simple Kind of Life”) has nothing? Oh, yeah. That marriage is all but over. Unlike Britney, Gwen Stefani wouldn’t be a stripper in trailer park if she wasn’t in music, so this “baby’s daddy” crap simply will not slide with her. Luckily, it comes out right when her solo record is released so she can bury herself in the promotional tour (on which I doubt Rossdale will now be joining her).
WE ALSO HAVE THIS LOVE OF UGLY, UGLY GOLD JEWELRY
VH1 took a break from porn to show Leah Remini having her baby. It was kind of a sequel to the show about her wedding, which was also on VH1. It reinforced my belief that Italians, Puerto Ricans and Blacks are all the same. Why? Because after the baby was born, her 40-something Puerto Rican husband either got a tattoo with both her name and the baby’s name or had the baby’s name added to the tattoo of her name. Either way it’s something only Black people, Puerto Ricans and Italians do---no matter how much money they have. Johnny Trailerpark may do it too, but once he’s moved into a mansion he might not. Not so with our people.
I GUESS THAT BIG BAND IN HEAVEN NEEDED SOME MANAGEMENT
Death marches on, taking Howard Keel (my lack of concern about this verifying my heterosexuality), but can’t seem to seal the deal with Arafat, who is holding on to every last inch of his life despite the fact that everyone, including his own people, want him to just die already. There was also a near miss when Bo Diddley was hospitalized, but seems to be okay. One. More. Time. If you’ve ever entertained anyone, anywhere, you’re a target, no matter what age. Hell, even the people around you are in trouble, as witnessed by the death of the manager of Grand Funk Railroad. Killed by his dumbass daughter’s boyfriend. Yep, there’s gonna be plenty of therapy needed there. Your father is dead because of your shitty taste in men.
11/01/04
“God forgives the sin of gluttony.” --- Catalan Proverb
BUFFY THE B-LIST STAR
Holding at number one is The Grudge, but does this make Sarah Michelle Gellar a movie star? I think not. While she does fit into my theory of “Great American Mediocrity” wherein Tom Cruise and Julia Roberts can make mediocre movies and be movie stars while better actors and actresses fail all around them, still she’s lacking even that “movie star quality” that they still have. And she’s had all the time in the world to get it, considering she’s been working since she was a kid. She’s had all the time in the world. Unfortunately she seems to have learned from Susan Lucci only how be the best “almost star” in the world. For some reason, no matter how much success she seems to otherwise achieve, she’ll never truly cross over into “A” list territory. “B+” at best is her future. I mean all three Scary Movies have made $100M, but can you tell me the female star of all three? Exactly. There’s a reason the peak of her career was a TV show on The WB and The UPN.
I DIDN’T FORGET “CRIMINAL TYPE” ‘CAUSE THAT’S A GIVEN FOR EVERYONE
Ray opens at number two and I have to join the chorus: Jamie Foxx is amazing in this. He fucking becomes Ray Charles and doesn’t let up for a second for two and a half straight hours. I hate him and I was still impressed. It works because not for one fucking second is he allowed to be his typical annoying self. Unfortunately, the film lets him down with some very annoying, very patronizing flashback sequences. The straight story about his rise to fame and fortune, dealing brutally honest with his drug use and womanizing is the real meat of the film and subsequently its best part. If I had one quibble with it, it would be the total lack of any sort of musical perspective. If you went by this film, there was apparently no such thing as rock & roll to arrive in the 50’s and even if it did, it sure as hell didn’t change the world of Ray Charles. And apparently Quincy Jones (miscast horribly here as Larenz Tate) is the only other musical celebrity Ray Charles ever met. I mean not one of his contemporaries makes an appearance in this film to give you a better sense of his place in the world, which is sad because there truly was a time when the greatest musicians of modern music were all alive and working together. This will undoubtedly get Jamie Foxx an Oscar nomination and given the sad movies out there, maybe even the award itself, but that’s the beginning of the end for him. Sorry, buddy, but America has rules about minorities and the rule is “one type at a time.” Currently it’s this: Taye Diggs is Young Black Guy (no, not Mehki Pefifer), David Chappelle is the Young Funny Black Guy, Will Smith is The Action Black Guy, Denzel Washington is the Dramatic Black Guy, Samuel L Jackson is The Badass Black Guy and Morgan Freeman is the Old Black Guy (Eddie Murphy has oddly transcended this into Family Black Guy, killing off Bill Cosby). And honestly, only two of those guys can get a film made. Hell, maybe only one (Will Smith) now that American Gangster, which reteamed Denzel with his Training Day director, Antoine Fuqua, has been shut down. When was the last time you heard of that with an “A” list White actor? After they won a fucking Oscar!?! Exactly. I hope you’ve saved up more of your unfunny jokes, Jamie, ‘cause you’re gonna need them again real soon. Granted, you may be the guy they start threatening Denzel and Will Smith with to get them to lower their rates, but that’s about as far as you’re going to get.
SHUDDER. THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY.
Saw opens at number three and this is one of the number one reasons I don’t do the scary. A movie where people have to saw their own legs off? I think not. It was a great ending to the first Mad Max movie, but not something I want to see innocent people subjected to. Not to mention something like this has to be done supremely well in order to pull it off and I just don’t get that vibe from this. Like Open Water a few months ago, the buzz is more about aspects outside the actual film---in this case, the grisly prospect of it---than the film itself. And you have to have it happen at least once in the film, otherwise you just wussed out. Sorry, but I don’t even want to see it implied even once. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Uh-uh. Yet another film I’ll avoid even on cable. And speaking of Black guys in films, is this what it’s come too for Danny Glover? Sigh. Remember what I said, “Only One Type At A Time” and Danny’s too old for most of them, still too young for Morgan Freeman roles, not good looking enough for Denzel and not edgy enough to take away anything from Samuel L. Jackson. This is why he’s reduced to supporting fucking Cary “Lost My Beauty To Jowls” Elwes in an indie horror movie.
NO, CAMERON DIAZ DOES NOT COUNT AS A MINORITY
Shark Tale is down to number four and this is sadly one of the few successful movies Angelina Jolie is attached to. Oddly enough, the source of her career is her beauty and it’s nowhere on display here. Not to mention a family film for someone who hasn’t had a successful film in forever signals the beginning of the end (you don’t think Geena Davis wanted to do those damn Stuart Little movies, do you?). And given that our theme this week is minorities in films, you think Will Smith is now going to be the new go-to guy for animated films over Eddie Murphy, who has ruled this since Mulan? I doubt it, because Eddie Murphy made Mulan and carried the first crappy Shrek movie on his back. The second, ironically enough, was again stolen by a minority actor: Antonio Banderas, whose success is even more amazing considering he’s a minority actor with a thick accent. Then again, he be pretty. Real pretty.
ASK SHEMAR MOORE WHO JUST RETURNED TO SOAPS
Shall We Dance is down to number five and there’s an actress here, Lisa Ann Walter, whom Bette Milder should be suing for copyright infringement. It’s as if the script read, “Play Bette Midler.” Yeah, that’s also a kind way of saying she’s not pretty. Also appearing in this film in the smallest of roles is Nick Cannon who may be the Teen Black Guy, given his record and any attempt to break out of that (as he toys with here) will be met with brutal disappointment for him. Sorry, but you should work your category to death while you can, because there’s no guarantee you can be the next Denzel and once you leave, there’s no going back. Also here, in what can only be called “The Forrest Whittaker Role” is that big guy from 8 Mile. Forrest is now a director and recently helmed First Daughter. Yeah, that’s your future, big guy. Personally, I think you’re better off playing drug dealers and rappers, but that’s just me.
WATER IS BAD, BUT FROZEN WATER IS WORSE
Friday Night Lights is down to number six and what bruthas do we have here? I mean it’s a sports film and unless it’s hockey or swimming, there should be bruthas. Oh, it’s Derek Luke, who was poised to enter the fray in Antoine Fisher and Biker Boyz, but since both films didn’t do that well, was last seen as “The Black Partner Who Dies” in Spartan. Yeah, there was that indie film appearance as Katie Holmes’ boyfriend in Pieces of April, but that was just a joke role in my mind. It was little more than “Hey look, Joey from Dawson’s Creek is doing a black dude.” He’s not bad, but I hope he enjoyed his two leading roles, because they won’t be happening again. He just lacks that spark of the leading man.
AND HIS SISTER IS FUGLY TOO
Ladder 49 is down to number seven and let’s say it again: Morris Chestnut could give a class on how maddening it is to be a minority actor. He good looking, works regularly, but almost never in the driver’s seat (he’s the Black Esai Morales). How much can it suck watching fugly-ass Joaquin Phoenix get the lead here when he’s never carried a film in his life and half his career is based on his dead brother? He should be having brunch in a Hollywood diner with Don Swayze, Jim Belushi and Kevin Dillon discussing how to find work, not starring in major motion pictures. Hell, does anyone remember Chestnut as one of the trainees in G.I. Jane with Demi Moore? Yeah, he was there. Know who else was in that film? Viggo Mortensen as the Master Chief, in shorts so short and tight, it was obvious the real reason his character didn’t want women in the SEALs was because of the competition for the boys. If the Pentagon is go concerned about gays in the military, their first stop might be uniform design, ‘cause no straight guy picked those shorts.
DR. BOBBY “THE CLAMP” DENUNZIO, D.D.S.
Team America: World Police is down to number eight, followed by Surviving Christmas at number nine and while there are not official minority stars in this there is an Italian and don’t kid yourself, being Italian is barely more than being a minority. When was the last time you saw an Italian guy playing anything outside of a cop or a crook? How many dentists or pediatricians have you seen whose last names end with a vowel. And even if they did do it, it would still probably wind up being a stereotype (“Yo, I’m Dr. Jimmy “The Spanker” Donetti and what da fuck is wrong wit your fuckin’ kid? Looks like he needs a beatin’.”) James Gandolfini may play a variety of roles, but his most famous one is still a mob boss. Yeah, Nicholas Cage is Italian, but notice he ain’t going by his real name of Coppola.
BEATING A DEAD HORSE FOR THE TENTH AND FINAL TIME
Finally, Taxi is closing out the top ten at number ten and hey look, Jennifer Esposito is playing a cop. How unusual. But if you think the roles for Black men are limited, the women don’t have even that much, making Queen Latifah’s success (before this) all the more extraordinary. Well, maybe not so much, considering she entered the game as a rapper and everyone from Nia Long to Samuel Jackson has complained about being forced to compete with rap stars for roles. After all, Julia Roberts has never worried about losing a role to Madonna. Still, for Black women, there’s pretty much only one role and it belongs to Halle Berry and Halle Berry alone. Gabrielle Union can just stop kidding herself now. Her future is like that of virtually every other minority actress save Asians: best friend to the White girl. Asian women have the sad double-edged sword of being the regular love interest of White men, but not much beyond that. It’s either Lotus Blossom Lover or Dragon Lady and that’s about it. But they’re still working more than your non martial arts male and at least they’re sexual beings. When was the last time you saw an Asian guy even kiss somebody in Hollywood? Compared to this, Black actors have an embarrassment of riches. I mean, I couldn’t have done this whole top ten about Asians or Latinos and have someone to talk about in virtually every film. And Arab or Indian actors? Forget it.
COMEDY IS CREEPY PLUS TIME AND A RESTRAINING ORDER
Not breaking the top ten, but oddly interesting to me is Birth, which is about a ten-year old who claims to be a woman’s dead husband. Now, obviously it should have been a comedy, but the line between comedy and creepy is thinner than the line between love and hate (I base this on all the times I thought I was being funny only to have the police become involved). Believe it or not I dig Nicole Kidman’s hair that short. It makes her look like a latter day Mia Farrow, which adds to the film’s creepiness, not to mention the comedy factor, because most people tend to forget Rosemary’s Baby is partially a black comedy (don’t tell me you can watch all those old farts start screaming “Hail, Satan” and not laugh your ass off, or that the husband sold his wife to further his career isn’t blatantly satirical). But I still didn’t make it to theater (Surrogate Sister’s fault, but I’ll explain later) and neither did many other people based on this low gross. Not that New Line threw any weight behind it, opening it in little over 500 theaters…ON FUCKING HALLOWEEEN! How dumb is this? How can you not take a big swing with your suspense movie ON FUCKING HALLOWEEN!?! Why else do you think The Grudge is still number one and Saw opened at number three? These people knew this was the weekend to take a shot with your horror flick. I mean, it’s FUCKING HALLOWEEN! But how long can Nicole Kidman keep coasting on these failures? Forget the Moulin Rouge bullshit. It was not a hit, just not a total failure. Same for Cold Mountain, making $169M worldwide and costing $80M to begin with. Let’s not forget The Stepford Wives, The Human Stain, or Birthday Girl. In fact, she’s had three hit movies her whole career: The Hours (cost $25M, made $91M worldwide), The Others (cost $17M, $201M worldwide) and yes, Batman Forever. I’d like to think my favorite Nicole Kidman film, Malice, did well, making $45M in 1993 (today it would be $67M), but no budgetary info can be found, but how much could it have cost? This is proof of just how fucking huge Tom Cruise is. She’s still “A” List purely because she was his wife for ten years. No, it’s not the Oscar. Hilary Swank has an Oscar, but she’s married to Rob Lowe’s ugly brother, so she’s lucky to have that Calvin Klein ad, much less a movie. And sorry, but I don’t think the “A-List = Everyone Wants To Fuck You” rule applies here either. I mean, who wants to fuck Nicole Kidman, really? She’s got cold bitch written all over her. Granted, this actually attracts me more, but you notice it still didn’t get me into Birth, so imagine what your average Angelina Jolie fan thinks.
STILL WAITING FOR ALEC BALDWIN TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY
I couldn’t be more glad the fucking election is finally happening and while I am a Democrat and voting for my guy, I kinda dread a win by him because of the number of assholes who will take credit for not fucking shutting up about it for the past year. P. Diddy, Russell Simmons, Sarah Jessica Parker, Janeane Garofalo, every rock idiot out on tour right now…it’s enough to make me vote for Bush just to show these assholes how powerless they really are. IT’S THE WAR, STUPID! IT’S THE ECONOMY! IT’S THE FACT THAT THE TALLER CANDIATE ALWAYS WINS! IT’S BECAUSE THE REDSKINS LOST, BUT WHATEVER IT IS, IT’S NOT YOU! I voted for Gore, but I have to admit taking a certain pleasure in his defeat because the man oozed arrogance and never let you forget for a second how he was the best man for the job. I don’t want Kerry to lose, but if he does, the look on the faces of fucking David Cross, Janeane Garofalo and Margaret Cho and all these other idiots might be worth it. Besides, I’m too old to be drafted.
RENEWING MY FAITH IN WOMEN PAINTED BLUE WITH RAY GUNS
There are many great things about being unemployed, but one of the most recent was the running of every single Farscape episode every day for two weeks, leading up to Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars. Farscape is easily one of the best science fiction shows ever made. It’s right up there with Star Trek and The Twilight Zone and leaves shit like Star Trek: “Fill In Your Crappy Derivative Version Here” in the dust. One great thing about it was that it was kinda dirty. No one was perfect. Everyone had great, sometimes nasty flaws and there was plenty of suffering to go around. You’re not going to see the son of one of your main characters sleeping with his father’s fiancée on Deep Space fucking Nine. Not to mention the great pop culture references made by John Crichton, including a neverending series to science fiction movies and TV shows, including Star Trek. And being on basic cable cheated Ben Browder out of an Emmy for his work. If David Duchovny deserved one, then Browder did too. You’re not going to see Captain Kirk shedding a tear of anger and frustration when the man who’s been trying to kill him and his friends for two years tries to apologize. Browder did it and made it work, not to mention his near nervous breakdown over possessing the most dangerous weapon in the universe. And then there’s the sex. The best women ever on a science fiction TV show, hands down. And since they shot in Australia, they all had those great accents. Yeah, I was bummed when they actually killed Dargo, who was the heart of the team, not to mention Jool. Now, normally I’d just say but this is science fiction, people, there’s no such thing as death, but on Farscape, the dead stayed dead, which is one of the reasons it was so great. The other was obviously the stories and the way it wrapped up. So many of the various, seemingly unconnected episodes were eventually revealed to part of one great tapestry. It was amazing. Yes, there was geek wood aplenty for me
LET US NOT FORGET LISSETTE MELENDEZ’S “GOODY GOODY”
So, the housecleaning continues. 87 cd’s left my house on Saturday and while reorganizing the collection I found another four. Why? Well, some of it has to do with daddy’s new iPod. Shut up! It required no money out of my pocket. But it was a trial to get it. First, it get stolen by a FedEx worker. I know this, because FedEx fucking called me first! They called to ask me if I’d gotten it, which means they knew some shit had gone down. So, a week or so later I call Apple about my replacement and apparently they were embarrassed because it came from freaking China in three days flat. My inscription? “Angriest Geek In The World.” Yeah, baby. In any case, I went through my collection and if any album only had one or two hits on it, I put those songs on my hard drive and then it was history. So, goodbye Ralph Tresvant with only one song, but Bell Biv Devoe and Bobby Brown stay (SHIT! I forgot to get rid of Johnny Gill). All The Cranberries albums were gone with nothing uploaded, but I got a total of three songs off my two Cardigans albums. So many one hit wonders. Remember Shai? Brownstone? Jade? Patra? Sneaker Pimps? Quad City D.J’s? Portrait? The Bogmen? Lit? Nice & Smooth? Freedy Johnston? Black Sheep? Aswad? Joe Public? SWV? All gone, baby. All gone. And it was no big loss because working at Columbia House for 12 years meant I’d gotten most of them for free to begin with (which is why I had all The Cranberries albums to begin with). Besides, I look at it as taking $80 off the cost of my iPod. In addition, I’ve been somewhat successful in selling off books on eBay. Considering I was merely going to give them to The Salvation Army, anything is a victory. Now I just have to figure out what’s in that damn trunk and empty it out. How embarrassed will I be if there’s a body in there that I simply forgot about?
LET THE CONTEMPT BREED
So, Surrogate Sister finally moved into the city. After whining for years, it finally happened. I told her not to move near me, so of course she does. Aside from the obvious annoyance, this obligated me to moving in duty. This is why I couldn’t do a movie on Saturday morning like I normally do (sorry, I just don’t like going with people). Luckily, there were others and since she’d been somewhat successful with partial moving during week (that table left my apartment earlier during the week), the actual heavy lifting was done in less than an hour. I hung around with mom and dad because I had to set the computer up, but that’s it! I’m done. My seclusion will continue no matter what. And don’t think I’m afraid to continue my porn renting either! I don’t care who I bump into in the video store. Ask me what I’ve got in my hands, and I’ll happily show you I’m renting a collection of interracial anal porn called, “Down Wit Whitey” or finally trying out Spankenstein. I’m a cranky old man losing all since of shame.
BECAUSE GRILLED CHEESE ISN’T KILLING ME QUICKLY ENOUGH
So, you should have know my weight loss would be brief. Last week saw World Pasta Day finally getting some notice in the carb-fearing US. This made me think of how long it had been since I’d really indulged in soaking up some nice red sauce with a piece of buttered bread. This lead to me making two tons of lasagna. Sigh. I had to. I just had to. But as always, I overdid it. I mean, does everyone put a pound and a half of mozzarella in theirs? Granted, I wussed out a little and got low-fat ricotta (don’t do it—it’s too stiff for spreading properly), but made up for it with too much parmesan and so much meat sauce I had at least two cups left over. This was later poured over the finished meal making it even richer than before. So now I’m trying to push it off on both Surrogate Sister and Around The Way Girl because I will eat it everyday (with red wine and buttered bread) until it’s gone and make all my swimming useless. I succeeded in getting Surrogate Sister over for dinner, but she snuck out without taking any and Around The Way Girl continues to duck my calls, but it is to no avail. I’m going to make her pay for making me drink when she knew I was hurting. My lasagna and I are as patient as death itself.