JUNE '05 ARCHIVE

06/27/05

BUT HE’LL ALWAYS BE A SOLIDER OF ORANGE TO ME

Batman Begins holds at number one and in another diss to you people who like that first Michael Keaton version, Cillian Murphy as The Scarecrow shows you can be a good, crazy villain without chewing the scenery up in chunks and leaving the rest of the actors to try and clean up after you. It helps that this movie is more about Batman than any of the others were. Because they hired movie stars who demanded screen time rather than actors who play roles, they had to sacrifice literally half the movie to crap like The Penguin running for mayor and Burton using his origin to retell Edward Scissorhands. And the good casting continues with Linus Roache, once a contender for leading man status after Wings of the Dove (though I liked him as The Purifier in Chronicles of Riddick), is here as Bruce Wayne’s father and aside from being a good actor (though there’s no much even he can do with the homilies Thomas Wayne is given) he actually looks like Christian Bale. Also popping up is longtime science fiction and fantasy favorite, Rutger Hauer, as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Coincidentally, he also showed up on Smallville one year to give Clark Kent trouble (before getting plastic surgery and coming back as Patrick Bergin). He was also in Sin City a few months ago. See, geeks loved Blade Runner, so when they grow up, they hire him to be in their movies. Even I, who hated Blade Runner, will fully admit he was the best thing about it.

BLACK MAGIC WOMAN

Bewitched opens at number two putting Michael Caine in both the number one and number two spots this week, with one good movie and one that is absolute dreck. My appreciation for Nicole Kidman is an odd thing. I won’t see her in The Interpreter, which got decent reviews and looked interesting, but I will haul my ass out to see this, which got crap reviews and looked like shit. I can’t explain it. Maybe it was the presence of Sean Penn that put me off. In any case, this is another Nora Ephron disaster. How this woman continues to work with her ill-conceived and unfunny screenplays is beyond me. The supposed twist of this is that, rather than simply remaking Bewitched, it’s about a TV remake of Bewitched where a real witch gets cast in the role. Yes, I know. Let’s all strive to keep our brains from exploding with the billions of hysterical situations we know can result from something like that. Or shriveling up and dying because there’s nothing funny about that! It’s merely ironic! It toys with being a satire, but lacks the balls and the teeth to truly attack its subject matter, which are remakes of “Classic” TV shows. Most of the “Classic” TV really, reallly sucked, Bewitched being no exception. And you’d think in this post-feminist era, they might have something to say about an omnipotent woman married to a guy who was anything but (so lacking they replaced him without much notice or fanfare). But no, this is supposedly a romantic comedy about a witch who wants to be mortal who falls for a man who embodies all the mortal failings she desires. Um, that’s another movie in itself and grafting it onto this does no one any favors. Will Ferrell continues his status as the next Chevy Chase with yet another bad movie where he plays his idiot manchild role, this time as an actor whose career is on the skids, forced to turn to television. Sorry, but this is ripe with potential for satire and not a one is explored. Instead, we’re forced to sit through this chemistry-free romance between Will Ferrell and Nicole Kidman, which is only unique as he’s one of the few actors who are actually taller than she is. There’s a small role of a female writer (Heather Burns, who so deserves a starring career) who is very angry and potentially funnier than her co-workers and says things like “Samantha should have a job,”but nothing is done with her other than her making jokes about killing Will Ferrell, so if you want a movie that even hints at female empowerment, Nora Ephron and her equally talent-free sister are the last women in the world you should call. And aside from wasting the talents of Nicole Kidman and Michael Caine (who is actually funnier in Batman than he is here), also collecting a paycheck for nothing are Shirley McClaine, Jason Schwartzman, both Steven Colbert and Steve Carell of The Daily Show and Kristin Chenoweth who can almost be forgiven because this is just to subsidize her Broadway career (where she ironically played Glenda The Good Witch).

SEX & STORIES: MIA IN HOLLYWOOD SINCE 1979

Mr. & Mrs. Smith is down to number three and Hollywood needs to grow a pair of balls and then show them onscreen and stop this sex-free PG-13 nonsense. Not to mention stop listening to preview audiences, which is why you never got to see the “bad guys” behind all this. It was shot and you can even see Keith David (another Chronicles of Riddick alum) as the head of one of the assassination agencies in the commercials, but it was all cut because the audience wanted more of the nudity free relationship. I notice that final endless fucking shootout didn’t seem to bother anyone, but it had me checking my watch. And the plot is left unresolved. Their employers still want them dead, which means just more teams of hit men and more shoot-outs are coming. This is why a final showdown with their bosses is so important. Or rather would be important in a movie about the story and not just pretty people gettin’ it on---which they don’t really do either, so what’s the fucking point? I’m getting angrier about this film every week.

NO “FULLY LOADED” DOES NOT PERTAIN TO HER BREASTS

Herbie Fully Loaded opens at number four and I’ll never see this. I wasn’t going to see it anyway, but learning that Dean Jones shot a cameo that was cut sealed the door shut for me. How the fuck could you do that to Dean Jones!?! Come on, the poor parents dragged to this needed something, especially the fathers since Disney digitally reduced her breasts (the mothers say they complained because of their kids, but it was really because dad so eagerly volunteered to take the kids to see Mean Girls last year). When they tried to restart this series back in ’97, they at least had enough respect to have Dean Jones (as his Jim Douglas character that created Herbie) appear. That said, I do have vague memories of The Love Bug from my childhood, but even as a kid, I hated the fake driving backdrop scenes. Drove me fucking nuts even at eight. They were all just so fake! They weren’t even trying! Sorry, that’s thirty years of frustration coming up. Also, I wasn’t so stupid to believe that a bug could beat all those other racing cars. It was just too much suspension of disbelief, even for someone whose racing knowledge came only from Elvis movies and Speed Racer. And don’t think I’m not enjoying Michael Keaton reduced to playing the dad in a family film for the real star. I haven’t forgotten when he dismissed the righteous complaints of geeks everywhere that he was too short, ugly and bald for the role. Now look at you, dickface! Supporting role in a remake of 27-year-old Disney film! Also here for the kid film dollars is Matt Dillon. He was in Crash earlier this year and this is how he pays for that. But this is a huge step back for Lindsay Lohan after Mean Girls. If you’re trying to transition out of being a kid star, you have let the kiddie films go until you’re either so big it’s obviously and indulgence, or so desperate you don’t have any other choice---which brings us back to Michael Keaton! She should just camp outside of Tina Fey’s house until she writes her another movie. And for god’s sake, stay away from Nora Ephron.

APARTMENT 12B OF THE DEAD

George A. Romero’s Land of the Dead opens at number five and you’d think the recent spate of zombie films (including a remake of his Day of the Dead) whose success actually allowed for Romero to make this, would make him a little grateful. Oh, no, children. He didn’t care for them because he’d rather be getting paid to do it himself. Also, they declined to include his social satire along with the eating of guts, though I think making fast zombies is a scary innovation, improving on his work. Nevertheless, you gotta wonder where he’s going from here. He’s already jumped from time (Night, Dawn, Day) to place (Land), so does that mean the next one will be Island of the Dead? Great Plains of the Dead? Far Rockaway of the Dead? This is an unusual entry because Romero actually has somewhat established actors in this rather those wooden unknowns he usually turns to. And while it may be worth $10 to watch John Leguizamo die a horrible zombie death (I enjoyed watching him die in Assault of Precinct 13), I still don’t do the scary, not even the socio-political satirically scary like this. Besides, I want a fucking resolution. Why are the zombies flesh eating and what does the radioactive satellite that started this all back in Night of the Living dead have to do with this? Maybe it’s too much science fiction, but I need Dr. Brilliant Scientist to explain what caused the zombies, why they do what they do and how to stop them.

BUT AT LEAST SHARK TALE BIT IT

Madagascar is down to number six and the success of this is a plague on the part of humanity that actually has an imagination.

GET ME A WRITE, NOT JUST A REWRITE

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith is down to number six and in a fit of temp work boredom I tried to write a synopsis of all the three crap films to correct the errors, and you know what? They still suck. Even if you do something logical, like make the death of Princes Amadala the direct result of the Jedi so that Anakin goes crazy with grief and starts wiping them out without ever learning his children survived, they are still bad, boring stories. The first hinges on a point of fucking parliamentary procedure, which makes Lucas’s claim that “It’s a kid’s movie” total bullshit. You simply cannot turn a silk purse into a sow’s ear. The story of Darth Vader’s origin and the fall of the Jedi was simply not one that needed to be told. You don’t need to see how Prince John is in power at the beginning of The Adventures of Robin Hood to enjoy the movie and you don’t need this.

MIDDLE-AGED SELF-HATING LOSER COMES EASY TO HIM

The Longest Yard is down to number eight, followed by The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl in 3D at number nine and Cinderella Man at number ten, but look for it to return this fall for an Oscar campaign, but expect Max Baer Jr. to return right along with it to thwart them. And while I do feel he was cheated out of an Academy Award nomination for Sideways, the more I see of Paul Giamatti on talk shows, the more I realize he’s really not acting all that much to play a middle-aged schlub loser. His personality isn’t so dramatically different that he’s some sort of accomplished thespian.

SHE’D BUTTER MY BACON---LITERALLY, NOT SEXUALLY

So, Around The Way Girl’s roommates have a habit of throwing a cookout on hot days and this year was no exception. I didn’t go until after 5:00, but it didn’t help much. As usual, Around The Way Girl Wasn’t there, but I wasn’t about to give up free food and drink for that. While hanging out with a bunch of people I didn’t really know (outside of her roommates) I met a woman who could have been my wife. Forget that she’s an actress, because any woman who not only orders a double cheeseburger, but then puts a Dorito under the bun to eat it, has earned the right to meet mom. I won’t even get into pausing between eating the double-Dorito-cheeseburger to eat a brownie. Were she not in love with some doctor, it would be ring time, baby! This is a woman to grow old (and incredibly fat) with. Someone who’ll support cheese-covered nachos in bed. Too bad she’s so shallow as to need a man with an actual livelihood.

“SO WELCOME BACK, BABY, TO THE POOR SIDE OF TOWN…”

Yes, Oprah, once you leave the continental US, you return to just being another nigga. It’s sad what happened to Oprah at the Hermes store in France (they were closing and wouldn’t let her in to buy a bag for Tina Turner saying, “We’ve had a problem with North Africans.”), but every now and then we all need a cold, hard dose of reality. Oprah has been deified here in the states, but she’s got to realize the biggest TV star in America does not float overseas. Especially when it’s something like a talk show, which simply does not travel to other cultures. Even Prince Albert of Monaco is just some middle-aged, bald, closeted gay guy here. Better still is it means nothing to Hermes that some American talk show host hates them. They sell bags to the richest women on this planet. They sold bags to Princess Grace (where the “Kelly Bag” got its name, thank you Le Divorce). Who the fuck is Oprah to them? But what I hate is that racism is now being called a “crash” moment, after that fucking movie. I’ve got nothing against cultural shorthand (I once asked someone to “Yoda me up” when I was seeking advice), but pretentious movies should not enter the popular lexicon. Not to mention it’s differentiating the racism that rich and privileged black people suffer from the shit the poor and disadvantaged do. Oprah has a “crash moment” while Lawanda is simply told to get her black ass out of Bloomingdale’s because she looks suspicious (thought that would never happen, because Bloomingdale’s would love to get someone with no money on a payment plan that would last for a decade). She’s not having a “crash moment.”

TOO LATE FOR THE MEAN GIRLS SOUNDTRACK

Okay, so I’m obsessed with a new song (my preoccupation with John Waite’s “New York City Girl” was too brief to mention). This time it’s “Don’t Cha” by The Pussycat Dolls, whom I would normally despise, but their lead singer is rocking my world and I simply cannot help it. Her name is Nicole Kea and she was also in Eden’s Crush (where she was Nicole Scherzinger), that girl group created for that lame reality show Popstars a few years ago, so being in manufactured groups is obviously her thing. Nevertheless, I’d kill for her, despite her flat ass (she's Hawaiian, so the thighs are still nice and thick). Believe it or not it’s her smile. It’s killer. This is the type of mean-spirited song that only men write, but women love. I can think of at least a half-dozen women I know who would claim this as a personal theme song (“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me/Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me/Don’t cha/Don’t cha baby…”), because these are the kinds of bitches I call friends. But the song has a sordid history. If you were in a club last winter you probably heard it, or if you were one of the 12 people to see Beauty Shop you heard it there too. But that wasn’t the Pussycat Dolls. That was Tori Alamaze. She did it first, but somewhere down the line Universal (which has both her and Pussycat Dolls) and the writer and producer of the song, Cee Lo of Goodie Mob, decided they could make a lot more money if The Pussycat Dolls did it---and they were right. Sorry, but even though the songs are virtually the same (they added Busta Rhymes and some horns, but The Pussycat Dolls copy her line for line, note for note), Tori Alamaze isn’t as quite as attractive as Nicole and it’s works much better hearing “Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me” coming from someone actually hot. Besides, this happens all the time in the music business, the remake eclipsing the original. When he heard 16-year-old Aretha Franklin sing “Respect” Otis Redding sighed and said, “That little girl’s gone and stolen my song.” Which do you prefer, Bob Dylan doing “All Along The Watchtower” or Jimi Hendrix’s cover? Gladys Knight doing “Heard It Through The Grapevine” or Marvin Gaye’s? Just a few years ago, older, full-figured Trisha Yearwood recorded “How Do I Live” for the Con Air soundtrack, only to watch young, skinny Leann Rimes score a pop hit with it the same year. What makes this nasty is that Universal has pretty much shafted Tori Alamaze to push The Pussycat Dolls, thereby justifying more young women to develop eating disorders and get plastic surgery. And I can’t say shit, because I actually prefer the remake and the singer of the remake. But at least I know I’m wrong. And I didn’t pay for it anyway.

TIGGERS ARE WONDERFUL THINGS

Paul Winchell, the voice of Tigger died this weekend, as did Ronald Winans of The Winans gospel group and Chet Helms, the man behind “The Summer of Love”and Janis Joplin’s career so that death was forty years overdue. But apparently that’s not enough as Eleanor Mondale has brain cancer and James Earl Jones has pneumonia---for which I blame George Lucas. Don't ask how. I just do.

06/20/05

KNIGHT TIME, BABY!

Batman Begins opens at number one and the geek view is…it’s not bad. I liked it enough that I’m not going to quibble about such details as the Liam Neeson character not being a member of Ra’ Al Ghul’s group, but an amoral bounty hunter with whom Bruce Wayne studies. That Ra’s Al Ghul’s group is the League of Assassins, not the League of Shadows and Bruce Wayne trained with everyone but them. That Ra’s is an Arab and not Asian the way they pussy out and make him here. No, I’m not going to quibble about any of that because I enjoyed it that much. But I’m going to have to sue, as director Christopher Nolan and screenwriter David Goyer have been raiding my thoughts. I always thought that an Englishman should play Bruce Wayne because he’s patrician. Short, ugly, balding, chinless, no muscles Michael Keaton was anything but this. He’s the guy next door, the fucking plumber, fucking Beetlejuice, but he’s not Bruce Wayne, much less Batman. I also felt that if New York is Metropolis, then Chicago should be Gotham City (because Detroit is simply too nasty) and they create a Gotham City here using Chicago and adding some CGI. These are all my ideas and I want my money. The first hour suffers from a repetitive screenplay, because both the director and screenwriter thought that saying, “It’s all about fear” two million times wasn’t enough. We needed four million. I think every freaking character from Liam Neeson to Katie “Bride of Frankenstein” Holmes delivers a speech to Bruce Wayne about fear. There’s a scene where a guy delivers a pizza then talks for five minutes how he feared he wouldn’t get there in half an hour and how he’d mastered his fear of this to become “Pizzaman!” Okay, so that didn’t happen, but you feel like it did. Thankfully, once Bruce Wayne finishes his training in the Himalayas and returns to Chicago---I mean, Gotham City---things pick up. What this film gets right is what Spider-man and The X-Men got right: it’s not about the costume; it’s about the people in the costume. The Spider-man movies were about Peter Parker and this film is about Bruce Wayne. You don’t even see Batman until well into the second hour and you don’t really miss him that much, Christian Bale doing such a good job as Bruce Wayne. In addition to being taller, younger and better looking than Michael Keaton, he’s also a better actor. And actors like Tom Wilkinson, Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine as a great Alfred also support him. There’s also the top-notch casting of Gary Oldman, finally breaking out of the villain ghetto, as Sgt. James Gordon. Though I mourned when Chris Cooper passed on the role, there’s no way he could have rocked the mustache the way Oldman does, which makes him look exactly like Gordon in the comics. Liam Neeson seems settled into an “older mentor” groove, with this being the hat trick. Thankfully, however, he’s a not-so-nice mentor here, though with the worst fake facial hair you’ll ever see. $170M budget and they couldn’t get that right. Also disappointing are the fight scenes. You see nothing. On one hand this is good, because it could easily go silly quickly, a grown man dressed up like a flying rodent, but in this post-Matrix world, I can’t believe there’s not a stunt choreographer who couldn’t make it work. Like Bryan Singer in the first X-men movie, action sequences are simply not Nolan’s forte. Hopefully, like Bryan Singer in the second movie, he’ll get it fright (or simply let someone else do it).

LIFE SAVER

Mr. & Mrs. Smith is down to number two and did these two ever need this film. Brad Pitt hasn’t carried a film since the 90’s and Angelina Jolie has never, ever carried a film. Lara Croft barely survived and everything else she’s starred in (Taking Lives, Life or Something Like It, Original Sin, Beyond Borders) has tanked, despite all having good-looking if not downright pretty male leads as well (Ethan Hawke, Ed Burns, Clive Owen, Antonio Banderas). What does she have here? Well, it is a marginally better script, but most of all it’s an actual director this time around. Pitt’s own history is similar. His only moderate success over the last few years was been as a member of Ocean’s 11 (the sequel is bad beyond description, made odious by the stench of conceited arrogance permeating every single fucking frame), which, again, had a real director (Troy would have been Troy with or without him and didn’t do all that great). Not that people like Alan J. Pakula (The Devil’s Own) or Barry Levinson (Sleepers) aren’t good, but their work was lost in the movie star struggle. The other problem is Brad Pitt has a flair for comedy that gets lost behind his pretty-boy appeal. Unlike the tepid The Mexican, this film actually puts it to good use. Pitt could have had a nice career in romantic comedies, but it’s a little late to start that at 40, when people like Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock are actually wrapping it up. And did I mention that the sex scene in this movie is both brief and disappointing? Well, it is.

IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES, IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES

Madagascar is down to number three, followed by Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith at number four and The Longest Yard at number five and how much of a comedown for this is for Cloris Leachman, who when the original came out, was recent Academy Award winner, working with Mel Brooks and had her own show? But this is just more proof of the curse of Best Supporting Actress, which she won in 1971 for The Last Picture Show. Yeah, she worked with Mel after that and had her own TV show spin-off of The Mary Tyler Moore Show (Phyllis anyone?), won six Emmys overall and actually played Wonder Woman’s mother, Hippolyta, but each year brought a little less. What’s odd is that she was considered a beauty (even with that nose thanks to measurements of 37C-21-34) with brains when she started off back in the 50’s. She was a Miss Chicago and a Miss America Runner up who went to Northwestern and was a Gamma Phi Beta. This must have driven wannabe-beauty with brains, Sharon Stone, nuts when she was briefly Leachman’s daughter-in-law (her first marriage). And while most remember her from Young Frankenstein, my favorite Cloris Leachman role is from the uber-sleazy adaptation of Kiss Me Deadly from 1955, where she shows up naked, is gruesomely tortured to death right afterwards and Mike Hammer sets off on bloody revenge, because if you can’t kill for a naked woman you barely know, who can you kill for?

THAT UGLY TROLL ON SEX AND THE CITY WAS ENOUGH

The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl is down to number six and making an appearance in this as “the mom” is Kristin Davis who has flat out stated that she has never dated Steve Martin. Relieved sigh. Thank god. I’ve regained one of my fantasies, free from the thought that she ever let that creepy old bastard touch her. Sorry, but even at 40 she’s still twenty years younger than Steve Martin, who is so odious that he not only drove Anne Heche into homosexuality, but homosexuality with ugly women.

AIN’T NOTHING BUT HARD TIMES

The Perfect Man opens at number seven and how the hell did this ABC Family Film escape into the theaters of America? And I was only joking when I said this was Heather Locklear’s future. I had no idea she would take me seriously. Doesn’t Richie Samborra have enough money so that his wife doesn’t have to do this? No wonder Chris Noth is returning to the Law & Order franchise next year, if these are his choices. Couldn’t he get commercials like girls? Yeah, I saw him in a Lane Bryant ad but that speaks for itself and should have resulted in the immediate firing of an agent. Sorry, I know big girls need love too, but when you’re the sexy male lead on the hottest show in the country and the best you can get are ugly clothes for fat chicks, then your representation needs to be questioned.

YEAH, I’M USING CLASSICAL REFERENCES ON YOUR ASS!

The dying Oscar bait of Cinderella Man is down to number eight and will no one ever listen to producer Brian Glazer? Ron Howard’s long time producing partner (who I personally think is in love with him) whose hair makes him look like that guy in Beetlejuice who was burned to death, wanted to release this in the fall, but Universal refused. The same way they ignored Grazer, (who is an avid surfer) who said that his film Blue Crush should be released in June, because that was the prime time for surfers. That film died in August and this film died in May. He should call his company “Cassandra Productions.” And that’s a harsh reality check. After all he’s done, the money, the Oscars, even he has no control over his own film in the end.

ANOTHER PRETENDER TO THE THRONE

The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants is down to number nine, followed by The Honeymooners at number ten and Gabrielle Union’s time as “the young hot Black girl” is just about up, as she has no real hits to back it up. Go have a drink with Nia Long, sista, and let her tell you the facts of life and learn just how impressive Halle Berry’s career really is.

ENDING ON A HIGH NOTE

Not breaking the top ten is Heights, one of the last films from Merchant Ivory. It follows the lives of five people in New York over 12 hours and how their lives interconnect. It’s not that much a stretch considering Glenn Close is the mother to one of the characters and future mother-in-law to another. I was instantly predisposed to liking this because it’s a New York film made by people who obviously live in New York. Apartments are small and even the offices of Vanity Fair are far from huge. No fantasy Hollywood size here. Filmed unmistakably on location, cameos by Isabella Rossellini, Eric Bogosian and Rufus Wainwright help to give it an additional Manhattan aura. Though Glenn Close as is the biggest star and a lot of the film has to do with her character, who is a Hollywood and Broadway star (much like Close herself), the actual center of the film is Elizabeth Banks as her daughter who is engaged to James Marsden, who has secret in his past that’s connected to another character through a famous photographer whom his fiancée idolizes and who once wanted Glenn Close, despite his being gay. Well, the secret is pretty much given away early and it’s that James Marsden once slept with the photographer who is having a showing of nude photos of all his muses, of which Marsden is one. Also easy to guess is that an actor auditioning for a play Close is directing---whom she also wants to take as a lover---is actually Marsden’s lover, not to mention his upstairs neighbor. But realizing this doesn’t change anything. The film still holds your interest for all its 90 minutes as the circle of characters gets tighter and tighter. This is especially impressive when you realize not one of the characters is even remotely original. Not Glenn Close as the legend whose “open marriage” is falling apart because her less-talented husband has fallen for her understudy. Not James Marsden as the fiancée so pretty he must be gay. Not Elizabeth Banks as the WASPy daughter of New York privilege (who show what a New Yorker she really is by not being the least bit fazed that her pretty fiancée used to suck dick, instead remarking, “Of course he wanted you. Look at you.”). Not Jesse Bradford as the sensitive gay actor (and he needs to stop saying stupid things like how he was a little worried to play a gay character, all but saying he was afraid he’d go “gay” if he did, moron). Not Matthew Davis (the boyfriend from Legally Blonde) as the ex who tries to stop the wedding by offering Elizabeth Banks the career opportunity of a lifetime. The only cliché that failed for me was the rough-hewn Welsh artist (played by Andrew Howard who actually played Glenn Close’s son in Lion In Winter) who flirts with Elizabeth Banks by insulting her privileged lifestyle. And I’ve no tolerance for this ugly-sexy thing. He’s ugly and I didn’t find him the least big sexy and found myself rooting for her gay fiancée rather than him. Given how attractive everyone else is in this film, why couldn’t they have gotten a good-looking Welshman? They do exist. Ioan Gruffudd who was Lancelot in King Arthur and will be Mr. Fantastic in The Fantastic Four is one of them. Oh, and when I saw it, the screenwriter was there with her friends who screamed when her name flashed on the credits. Goddamn, I love this city.

DODGING THE CRUISE MISSILE

Okay, so Katie Holmes was actually number four on Tom Cruise’s list. In no particular order the other three were Kate Bosworth (whose career doesn’t need help now that she’s Lois Lane and what is Tom Cruise to compared to taller, younger, prettier Orlando Bloom?), Jessica Alba (whose career is white hot right now and her former fiancée was actually prettier than Tom too and still younger, though a decade older than her), and Scarlett Johansson (also in need of no career help, dating younger and taller in Josh Harnett, but actually met with him at the Scientology center before bolting). Hell, even Lindsay Lohan was up for the role eventually captured by Keri Russell (it’s supposedly the reason she lost all that weight, training for the role). As one website mentioned, it’s like he’s using Teen People as a catalog. And who are you people who believe this shit is real for a second? So they’re engaged. So what? Marriages and even children of convenience are as old as Hollywood itself. If you made every “arranged” marriage end, you’d kill half the pairings in LA and New York.

SAY IT WITH ME: HE “BEAT IT”

Who really thought Michael Jackson was going to jail? The same people who obviously thought Destiny’s Child would be together forever. Are you kidding me? He’s rich, he’s famous and he’s in LA. No wonder they used to physically assault the mob in order to keep them out. They knew they’d never be able to successfully prosecute them if they stayed. Hell, you can kill your wife in LA and walk away from it. What’s diddling little boys compared to that? How funny is it that, gay or straight, black or white, it’s a man’s world in of all places, California? Men can do whatever the fuck they want, while here in New York, we just sent a couple of multi-millionaires to jail in that Tyco trial (though both Puffy and Jay-Z did walk). By the way, I’m working for the broker who got him that $18M apartment. She actually had to testify for the prosecution.

GREAT CAESAR’S GHOST

Lane Smith, who played Perry White on Lois & Clark, is dead and so is the guy who played MacGyver’s boss. Apparently Death needs men of a certain age to play authority figures on some TV show in the afterlife.

‘CAUSE THEY COVER MY EARS WHEN I’M…AW, FORGET IT

Jessica Simpson looks like shit. She’s positively emaciated in that video. She’s so desperate for the success she’s seen Britney Spears have, she’s turning herself into a bad clone of her, even singing in a whispery voice, when she actually has a real one. If she thought a sex tape would boost her success, you’d see one out tomorrow. And she still doesn’t have the ass needed to fill out those Daisy Dukes. Nice big thighs though (or as I like to call them “ear-muffs”). But actually Catherine Bach didn’t have any ass either, so it’s true to the TV show.

WHEN I WAS YOUNGER AND LESS CRANKY

NewsRadio Seasons I & II and Godfather and Godfather II (stories of a third film are merely a myth) have been added to the DVD collection courtesy of a gift certificate from Movie Buddy ’98 as thanks for taking care of her dog. I almost feel guilty given how much I complained about wiping her dog’s ass, then I remember, I WIPED HER DOG’S ASS! Not to mention, I am poor and can no longer buy DVDs except on special occasions (am either drunk, depressed or both). Besides, if I got anything unworthy, like the Lois & Clark set that just came out, I know she’d come up to my apartment and kick my ass for wasting her money. I loved NewsRadio. It was the show that truly deserved the success that Friends received, but unfortunately it was too smart and prickly for that and refused to make its characters cuddly for all you sorry-ass fuckits. At least on the DVD NBC finally does apologize for how it treated the show. And the last time I had The Godfather in my house (on VHS) I actually threw a dinner party to watch it, where I made lasagna, pasta salad and we downed red wine. Don’t hold your breath waiting on that to happen again.

AMERICA’S REAL PASTIME: LAUGHING AT OTHERS

Fine. I won’t lie. I’m now addicted to watching Kept on VH1. Sorry, but it improves my self-esteem knowing just how fucking stupid so many other men are. Especially when they’re tall and good-looking. That’s right, being 6’2” and having a chiseled face doesn’t make you any less of an ignorant ass, pretty boy.

06/13/05

Mr. & Mrs. Smith opens at number one and let me just tell you what you really want to know: yes, there’s a sex scene, and no, it is not hot. In fact, it’s so freaking lame it hurts. It’s about thirty seconds long with absolutely no nudity. You actually get more these days on network TV (god knows Buffy The Vampire Slayer had serious humping going on and I’m still amazed they got away with it). This is especially disappointing when you consider how pretty they are and how much shit the director talked about shooting it. Goddamn PG-13! Goddamn PG13 to hell! And it needs the sex scene, people, because this movie is all about the chemistry between Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. And unlike most movie couples, they have it. Then again, this is before they started their Africa jungle-fucking, so there was still some tension there to be exploited. There’s a plot here, something about competing assassins, but why should you care when no one working on the film obviously did. There’s a very funny bit about Angelina Jolie’s division of her agency being composed entirely of hot women that goes totally unexamined and for a comedy that is unforgivable. On the other side, however, they make the most of Vince Vaughn, who not only still lives with his mother, but she works as his receptionist as well. For someone who started off doing indie, Doug Liman has proven himself to be quite an action director. Then again, Go did have a car chase (and Taye Diggs!). But since this is about the attractiveness of the actors I have to point out that while from the waist up, Angelina Jolie is uncanny perfection---even her voice is sexy---below the waist, it remains all too humanly flawed. She has no hips, no ass and legs like toothpicks. But if you recall, Brad Pitt’s history is all about the skinny. Juliette Lewis, Gwyneth Paltrow, even Robin Givens (who has a nice ass for suck a skinny girl) all very thin. And Jennifer Anniston tried, dropping all that weight, but it didn’t make her any prettier, or to Pitt’s eventual dismay, any more maternal.

THE FAVE OF MY ENEMY IS MY…NON FAVE?

Madagascar is down to number two and the voice of the only truly funny character in the film, the Lemur King, is Sacha Baron Cohen, better known to most of you as Ali G. I never watched the show, no matter who recommended simply because Madonna liked him so much. Sorry, but the woman just rubs me the wrong way so much, I’m instantly repulsed by anything she likes. In any case he makes the most of his role whileannoying merely with his ubiquitous presence is Cedric The Entertainer as his aide. I think Cedric must have the same agent as Samuel L. Jackson. The difference being, Samuel L. Jackson can improve most of whatever he’s in, whereas Cedric is just another anchor to what is usually an already moored project. So actually, it makes sense that he’s here in this.

YET ANOTHER REASON I’M KING

Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith holds at number three and the only thing worse than this movie is all the idiots who like it. This movie is a piece of crap. It’s poor written, directed and acted. How the hell can it be good by any definition? It’s not even a “so bad it’s good” like a Hudson Hawk, which means if you’re drunk or high you can have a good time. I can only see this being even more unbearable under the influence of something that makes time drag. Not to mention I see myself, drunk, challenging the legions of geeks to a fight. Especially that fat guy dressed up like Obi-Wan Kenobi. No, the one of the left of the fat Darth Maul. Yeah, that fat Obi-Wan. And I’m especially disgusted with Kevin Smith, who has become George Lucas’s personal ball washer, claiming that this shit movie is like watching Othello or Hamlet. He is the epitome of the worse traits of all geeks. Where once he was a bit of a geek hero, he has failed to use his success to rise above his geek origins, much in the way Mike Tyson has never used his boxing success to rise above his thug beginnings or Britney Spears failed to escape her white trash destiny. Success is supposed to take you away from all of that, but he can’t shake his sad geek mindset. This is why his wife is ugly, his movies now suck and he’s failed to develop the objectivity prevents him from loving everything that’s science fiction or fantasy. See, geeks are so happy to have something they can call their own, they put up with all kinds of shit other people would not (kinda how black people tend to watch every-fucking-thing on the UPN). But there’s no reason to any longer. There’s tons of science fiction shit in the world so you don’t have to worship or praise crap like these last three Star Wars films or Star Trek series any longer.

ADULTS NEED RITALIN TOO

The Longest Yard is down to number four, followed by The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl 3-D opens at number five, and speaking of George Lucas’s ball-washers, Robert Rodriquez is another one, but why shouldn’t he be? Like Lucas he’s a marginally talented control freak who answers to no one on his sets and while this does result in some entertaining moments, it rarely results in entertaining films. His salvation is that he makes his films so cheaply (in the tried and traditional way, by fucking unions) that they always make money, or at least, never lose any. By my count only the first Spy Kids and Once Upon A Time In Mexico hold together as complete pieces; everything else is a mess with some nice moments in it (action scenes and Salma Hayek’s breasts, because, unlike Lucas, he’s not afraid of girls). After the headache inducting mess that was Spy Kids 3-D there was no way in the world I was going to subject myself to this shit. It apparently was conceived by Rodriquez’s son. Newsflash, Robert, you need to rewrite it before you slap it onto the screen. This looks like some shit an 8-year-old thought up without the benefit of an adult filter.

JETHRO’S REVENGE

Cinderella Man is down to number six and apparently hitting the help in the face with a phone did nothing to boost this film’s take. Somewhere Max Baer Jr., aka, Jethro is laughing. What I don’t understand is why the guy simply didn’t try to kick Russell Crowe’s ass? This is New York, not LA. We’re supposed to be dangerous people. Yeah, I know he’s got a legal payday coming, but where are the balls in that? Unless he’s a wannabe actor, he should have tried get all up in some kiwi ass. Even more shocking is the porter was Latin. He attacked a Latino hotel porter in New York City and didn’t get killed!?! Sigh. Giuliani did succeed into turning New York into Disneyland after all.

BANG! ZOOM! STRAIGHT TO VIDEO NEXT WEEK!

The Honeymooners opens poorly at number seven and who’s bright idea was it to not only remake this, but make it all Black? First of all Black people do not watch The Honeymooners. Cedric The Entertainer flat out admitted he’d never seen the show before signing up to do this movie. I’ve seen it and hated it. Miserable looking black & white show about a bunch of losers one step away from poverty? Why the hell would I want to see that? Hell, the only reason I realize I ever watched Good Times was because it was about Black people. Now, I’d die before watching a rerun. And Eddie Griffin is no longer the least funny Black man alive. Mike Epps has taken his place and has the role as Ed Norton. Jackie Gleason and Art Carney are spinning so violently in their graves they threaten to turn back time and stop this from being made. The women are definitely improved upon with Gabrielle Union as Alice and Regina Hall as Trixie and a more imaginative person would have re-imagined this show about them rather than the idiots who strangely managed to land these women.

IRONICALLY, THIS IS HER “TURNING POINT”

The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants is down to number eight, followed by Monster-In-Law at number nine and this now only second to Maid In Manhattan as Jennifer Lopez’s highest grossing film (domestically speaking), pretty much sealing her fate as potential solo star. Obviously she cannot do it alone and now that she’s closer to 40 than she is to thirty, no one is going to risk any money on her again solo again. Eva Mendes, you’re up…

THE END

Finally, Crash closes out the top ten at number ten.

“UNDER MY THUMB IS A BOY/WHO WANTS FAME IN ANY WAY…”

As VH1 continues its journey to becoming an all reality network, they’re tapping into the market that has made America’s Top Model a success: women. The Surreal Life only came alive when learned to cast attractive men as well as women and made sure the women outnumbered the men. Now they’ve got these two shows about men humiliating themselves, Kept and Strip Search, each hosted by a skanky woman to whom they can feel superior . On Kept it’s Jerry Hall (who, unlike Madonna, has earned her semi-British accent), obviously channeling her decades of humiliation at the hands of Mick Jagger into humiliating some pretty boys she’s imported (because who wants to watch a bunch of limeys with bad teeth and accents thicker than Yorkshire pudding) to England for just that purpose, despite the supposed premise of it being a competition to be her boy toy. The other one, which is even sadder, and therefore more fun, has skank-du-jour, Rachel Perry (you can tell by her uber-trashy floral stomach tattoos) testing out men to become strippers. What makes that work is that all of them believe this is the opportunity of a lifetime for them and sadly, they’re not far from wrong. And no, I haven’t seen the Beauty & The Geek show. Why? Well, because I’ve spent my living it, that’s why. If I want the sad comedy of a smart, socially incompetent geek chasing after beautiful idiots, I’ll just replay some memories, not put money in Ashton Kutcher’s pocket. Besides, it’s a “good-hearted” show in that the socially inept geeks learn some social skills and the bimbos get smarter and they all get confidence. Who the fuck watches a reality show to feel warm & fuzzy. I’d prefer an Average Joe type of twist where they bring in good-looking geeks, like those hard-bodied physics professors who appear in college calendars. Now that would be funny.

BALLS = ASSES

Entourage started up again and while some were disappointed I love the show still and not just because they are giving every hot girl in LA between the ages of 18 and 28 a job. My buddy O.G. (Original Geek) doesn’t care for it because it’s about a bunch of guys acting like assholes. I hate to break it to him, but this is why we don’t hang about with a lot of guys. This is what happens when you do. Three is pushing it, but four causes an instant asshole factor to kick in. But what I love is how ruthless it is on the entertainment business and how willing people are to go along with it. Amanda Peet was on it last week and when she was introduced to Eric she barely looked at him. When she was told he was Vince’s manager, she was suddenly all warm smiles. As Homer Simpson says, “It’s funny because it’s true.” And funnier still that Amanda Peet would play herself like that. But as always, the weakest part of the show remains Adrian “The Wolfboy” Grenier. He’s a lousy actor. He’s fine at playing a slacker pretty boy, but whenever we see moments of his “acting” you have to wonder how this guy got that far. It’s like how the actress on The “L” Word who supposed to be a world class tennis player has no muscle tone whatsoever and can’t even run properly. He makes Tom Cruise look like Daniel Day Lewis. But I love the character of Eric. Any guy who can feels so much guilt he cannot enjoy hot sex with a beautiful girl is my kinda character .

BETWEEN FAMINE, ALCOHOLISM AND THE BRITISH, WHERE’S THEIR LUCK?

If you saw the recent article on Sinead O’Connor in Entertainment Weekly then you know she got ugly. Well, not so much “ugly” as more typically Irish-looking. Now she looks like everyone else on that freaking island (it happened to U2’s drummer too). All the delicate finery of her beauty that was actually emphasized when she shaved her head (not that she didn’t look damn good with hair too) is gone. And since she didn’t get fat or have a drug problem or look like this year ago, I guess it was simply a matter of age and time. So, to all the Irish women who loved and left me? Thanks, ‘cause I’m not spending the rest of my life with somebody who looks like Paddy down at the pub. Yes, I am that goddamn shallow. In fact, my first Irish woman (the Mean Little Redhead) was the beauty in the family. No one else had her sharp features. In my youth and stupidity, when she showed me a picture of them I blurted out, “Looks like a bunch of coal miners.” And so the mystery of my bachelorhood is solved.

NEKKID CHICKS: THE ETERNAL ART FORM

So, I finally got Peter Gorman’s second book of photography, Naked Rooms, just as his third, Stripped Naked, was released. His first was Naked in Apartment 7, where he took gorgeous black & white shots of nude women (mostly dancers) in his own apartment (with his wife there, so get over yourselves). According to the introduction, this new one has women from all walks of life in NYC, Wall Street Brokers, actresses (naturally), law enforcement , commercial pilots, etc (though they all scream “East Village” and “Williamsburg”). And you know you’re a New Yorker when you see a picture of a beautiful woman doing naughty things to herself and all you can think of is, “I wonder how much she pays for that place?” While the photos remain lovely, I much prefer his black & white work to the new color work. In this new book is he also told the women not to clean their apartments before he came over so he could capture who they really were and for better or worse, a lot of them didn’t clean up. Ew. I’m much too anal for that. I clean before I go to work every day because I cannot come home to a messy house. And I’m gonna make a wild guess that Peter Gorman’s wife is Asian, because there’s no other reason some non-descript Asian girl got 34 fucking pages to herself. The skinny lesbians I can almost understand, because two women equals twice the number of pages, but even they got less than twenty. Those 34 pages could a have been better put to use, most specifically with my favorite, the woman in the tub (whose face is not quite shown), who only got four pages or the Irish girl (shut up!) who apparently did multiple sessions, as the photos initially show her with just one Celtic tattoo on her wrist, then various Celtic tattoos all over her body, including a Celtic cross right above what Samuel L. Jackson called in Pulp Fiction, “The holiest of holies.” Ouch. Speaking of which, if I ever get a job, leave the apartment and find myself enjoying female company again, it’s good to know many women in New York still do in fact enjoy the presence of pubic hair. Even the type of exhibitionist that would pose nude for a book like this.

ARRIVEDERCI, AMORE

Anne Bancroft, one of the greatest of all Bridge & Tunnel girls (born Anna Maria Maria Louise Italiano in The Bronx), is gone. Poor Mel Brooks. You wanna talk Beauty and The Geek? Their forty-year marriage (she was representin’ The Bronx, he was raised out in Brooklyn) was the epitome of it. Okay, how many think he won’t survive the year without her, raise their hands?

SCREW THE O.C.

Okay, I added two categories to my links page. Stmarkscomics.com has gone upscale and gotten a professional person to do their webpage, but I kinda liked what I did, so I have it up in its entirety here. Second, I’ve put up my CMJ: New Music Monthly columns for all you cheap bastards who never bought the magazine. Ironically, in scanning the pages I finally read the magazine and began listening to the cd’s included and it’s a good little magazine. Too bad some of the bands I’m liking have probably broken up by now. Not to mention, had I read it back then I’d have known about, and disliked, Death Cab For Cutie back in ’02, rather than ’04.

THE FUTURE WILL BE FUN

I look forward to five years in the future when Katie Holmes is being questioned about this period in her life. She’ll be with her new age-appropriate husband and probably a baby and will speak only of it in embarrassed vague and ambiguous quotes (which are all the terms of her contract with Tom Cruise Inc. allow her to do). For a proper reference see “Anne Heche and Ellen DeGeneres.” But I’m loving his new path of self-destruction he’s on, pissing off all the women in America by telling them how they should treat post-natal depression. Let’s hope that War of the Worlds flops (relative to cost, since we know it won’t bomb outright) , because it will hasten the eventual demise of this “relationship” if his popularity seems to be shrinking. But what I wanna know is, what enterprising journalist is going to get Chris Klein drunk and get him to spill the beans about how (rumor has it) Katie Holmes simply wouldn’t have sex, which is why her relationship with Top Cruise is so ideal. She’s getting more attention now than Dawson’s Creek at its peak and she doesn’t have to worry about her boyfriend trying to fuck her. Now the big question is, is she just conservative or just a super-closeted lesbian?

LIKE A WHITE TIGER, NO MATTER HOW OFTEN YOU SEE IT, IT’S STILL STRANGE

Finally, the MTV Movie Awards were on this week and I said it when Mean Girls came out, I said it again when The Notebook came out, but the way she rocked those jeans on the awards show means I have to say it again: Rachel McAdams has got a seriously nice ass for a white girl. They were black jeans and you could still tell. And the way she and Ryan Gosling (whose ex-girlfriend, Sandra Bullock was also there) reenacted their Best Kiss was a welcome change from all the actors who seem to act like it’s some big task to do it again on-stage when they win it. This is a populist awards show, dumb ass. It’s for your fans so do it already. Jimmy Fallon put his patented SNL trip into obscurity into overdrive by lamely imitating Billy Crystal’s shtick of putting himself into movies. When MTV has to imitate the old-fogey Oscars, you know it’s over. And I’ve always resented the MTV Movie Awards, but I didn’t know why until now. It’s trying so hard to be hip and cool and irreverent , it merely drives home how hip and cool and irreverent it’s not, because when you’re really, hip and cool and irreverent, you’re not trying.

06/06/05

YOU DON’T SEE ADAM SANDLER DOING COMEDY SPECIALS

Madagascar moves into the number one slot, which is really sad, because it’s not that good. And the rules of animated films still apply. It’s either stars safely on top indulging themselves or those desperate to stop a sliding career. Ben Stiller is the only indulgent one here, as Jada Pinkett Smith got nothing from being in the last two segments of The Matrix (not to mention her “band” opening for Britney Spears), David Schwimmer is trying to slow his post-Friends slide into obscurity and Chris Rock, trying to recover from pissing away his heat of a few years ago---only watch David Chapelle slide into his slot of America’s Funny Black Man to greater acclaim , more money and all before 30 and without compromising his edge. Damn, you know that had to hurt. Comedians pretty much stop doing stand up once they make it over, but Chris Rock had to go touring after his lame ass movies failed (one more time: no one wants to see your ugly ass kissing anything, not even inanimate objects) and he’s been reduced to a show on UPN (the lowest of all the major networks). But he’s seemingly learned, because his success here comes from an ensemble and with The Longest Yard in the number two slot, he plays a supporting character. But his best line was cut. In the trailer you see a large convict yell out, “I hate my father,” to which Chris Rock replies, “I hate you too.” Easily the funniest joke in the entire movie and it didn’t make the final cut.

WAR OF THE GEEKS

Star Wars Episode III – Revenge of the Sith is down to number three and if there’s one good thing we can all look forward to it’s Lucas’s frustration that he couldn’t knock Titanic out of the number one slot. He can’t stand losing the number one slot. Don’t kid yourselves. The primary goal of the “Special Edition” back in ’97, to unseat E.T. which passed the original Star Wars. Spielberg did his own special ’02 release of E.T. to try and regain the top slot, but to no avail. But while Titanic was equally horribly written, it did have a top-notch director and a female character who actually did something. There was even---gasp---sex! So as long as those two things are needed to be on top, know that neither George Lucas or Spielberg will ever get there. And was I the only one distracted by that “thing” in the middle of Ewan McGregor’s forehead? You’re fucking millionaire. Get those ugly moles cut off. It hasn’t always been there, has it? And if it’s either new or growing, that cannot possibly be a good sign.

GOD’S CHOSEN DON’T PLAY THAT SHIT

Cinderella Man opens at number three and I will never see this. Again, I must drag out my “liver analogy.” I don’t like liver, so it doesn’t matter if the finest chef in the world makes the finest liver dish in the world. It will still make me vomit because I don’t like the taste of liver. Similarly, I have a dislike for heartwarming, true stories from the depression. Hollywood always tends to paint it in sepia-toned goodness, but there’s nothing warm and fuzzy about most of the nation sinking into poverty (while people like John F. Kennedy only read about it the paper and George Bush senior was chauffeured to school) . And this bullshit about Max Baer only validates my position. Max Baer did kill a man in the ring, but was haunted by the guilt and later put the man’s children through college. You won’t know that by this film, which shows him as some sort of monster and has pissed off his son, Max Baer Jr., a.k.a., Jethro of the Beverly Hillbillies, a.k.a., father of porn star Christy Canyon. You had better believe when Academy Award time comes around, he’s going to out in force denouncing this film. And considering Max Baer was also a hero to the Jews (he wore a star of David on his trunks and kicked the shit out of Hitler’s champion, Max Schmeling), there’s no surer way to shoot yourself in the foot in Hollywood. Yeah, I know it’s a stereotype but don’t kid yourself it doesn’t matter. And this isn’t the first time they’ve done it either. For a Beautiful Mind they left out the character’s experiments with homosexuality and cast Jennifer Connelly in the role of a Latina.

NOT TO MENTION THE TITLE SOUNDS LIKE A LESBIAN PORN FLICK

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants opens at number five and am I the only one who noticed the different commercials for this? In one the blonde is in her little, white panties and in the other, she’s wearing pants. I’m all for the latter, because I don’t need to see underage girls in their underwear, but obviously the filmmakers were not unaware as to the young boys or dirty old men (“No, honey, it’s not a problem at all for daddy to take you and your friends to the movie.”) they could pull by using the “panties version” in the advertisements. Obviously, they didn’t have to, because they had an alternate version, but chose to. But that’s the most interesting thing about this movie to me. Female bonding? Not unless it’s over cocktails in Manhattan while helping Charlotte decided whether or not to have anal sex. The only way this film could be more unappealing to me is if it were in Dutch and set in the 50’s (and if it were a European film, sex would be large part of it, at least one girl would hook up with a man twice her age, there’d probably a rape and at least one death). Not to mention what kind of bonding film can it be when all four of your characters spend most of the film apart?

YEAH, TONY HAWK, I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU TOO

On the other side of the teen gender fence we have opening at number six The Lords of Dogtown, the fictional version of the acclaimed documentary, Dogtown and Z Boys, because no one sees documentaries unless your director is a self-righteous asshole. Again, another film I’ll never see because I despise skateboard culture. It’s ugly and skanky and if it’s skanky and ugly now, imagine how skanky and ugly it was in the 70’s. I can practically smell the trailer every time it runs. And look at freaking Heath Ledger, already playing the Val Kilmer role. Hell, I thought that was Val Kilmer. Did any of the would-be young leading men of a few years ago ever deliver? Where are you now, Josh Hartnett?

AND THAT GUY WHO PLAYED POOTIE TANG IS A SECURITY GUARD

Monster-In-Law is down to number seven and also in this is Wanda Sykes as Jane Fonda’s sassy Black best friend and she’s yet another one whose moment of hotness was wasted. It’s only fitting that her boost was derived from Chris Rock and his show (though she at least got her failed sitcom on Fox). She should call HBO and see if she could get her job back on Inside The NFL. She was so much better than George Lopez and the lame round robin they have on it now.

TELL THAT TO THE INVESTORS WHEN THEY ASK FOR PROFITS

Crash is down to number eight and is considered one of the sleeper hits of the year. One more time: it cost $40M, so it just made budget. Now all it needs is another $40M to take care of prints and advertising and maybe, someone, somewhere will make some money.

THE END

Kicking and Screaming is down to number nine with Unleashed closing out the top ten at number ten.

AND THE CRADLE WILL ROCK

Not breaking the top ten and probably not making money because its director isn’t a self-righteous asshole is Rock School, a documentary about the real school of rock that lame Jack Black film was based upon. This is much better, though Peter Green, the founder of the school is no less outrageous, going on in angry fits (sometimes feigned) on his students on a regular basis and fully admitting his egocentric nature (best line: “Don’t look at your fingers. Girls look at their fingers. Do you want to be a Bangle?”). Of course, what makes this work is seeing the real kids in action, beginning with a 12-year-old guitar prodigy who opens with a note-for-note recreation of Santana’s “Black Magic Woman.” Needless to say, I had a sudden urge to go home and sell both my guitars and my bass on eBay. And it’s hard to feel better when the kid who can’t play literally had a head so large, he had to sleep upright for the first three years of his life or actually die, was thought to be retarded and has attempted suicide more than once. Of course even though he can’t play, Rock School helped him find a place, blah, blah, blah. To the film’s credit, this still doesn’t turn the movie into an afterschool special. The focus of the film is how Peter Green gets the kids ready for two shows, one about Black Sabbath and one is a Zappa festival in Germany. The focus of the Sabbath show are a pair of 9-year-old twins whose mother openly admits that she’s living her rock star dreams through them. Not to be cruel, but if someone is retarded in this film, it’s those two. Sorry, but I don’t recall 9-year-olds being quite so slow or inarticulate. But it is quite cute when they get on stage to do “Iron Man” in make up doing little devil signs with their fingers. Another student to receive a certain amount of screen time is actually the daughter of one of his instructors, but Green cuts her no slack over this. One of his regular digs is about her Quaker background. Before she went to rock school, she was quite content working in the community and helping the poor, not to mention hanging her friends, A QUAKER CHRISTIAN RAP GROUP! It’s even funnier than it sounds, as we are “treated” to seeing them perform amidst a group of “dancing” parishioners (just remember: this is how White people always look to Black people, no matter how down you think you are). Ultimately, Green’s barbs embarrass her away from all this (and I can’t say he was wrong). Finally, the group goes to Germany and of course, the sight of kids doing the incredibly difficult work of Frank Zappa wows the crowd and allows Peter Green to fulfill some of his own failed rock star dreams by going out on stage and working the crowd. We’re also treated to the somewhat sad sight of former members of The Mothers of Invention who play at these festivals with the tribute bands, waxing poetic on the impact and meaning of Zappa’s music. Please. Only sad devotees like Peter Green are even keeping that shit alive. If he’s serious about building a school or rock, he should teach his kids some music that actually matters. Sabbath is one thing, but Zappa? Fucking Zappa?

BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE: I’D DO HER TOO

Remember that lame-ass wanna be down English group Jamiroquai? Well, their lead singer confirms that not only has Winona Ryder continued her habit of fucking musicians (I swear the only way she could not have STD’s is that they went to war and killed each other off), but she pretty much fucked him to death. That would be more impressive coming from somewhat who wasn’t English. Notice no American ever made this complaint. He also said her breasts where bigger in real life than onscreen, which strangely sounded like a complaint. I’d say he was gay, but based on my neighbors, gay men fuck more than anybody (thank god Fire Island is now open so I can get some peace on the weekends).

NEXT THEY’LL BE SHOWING THEIR HOTEL ROOMS

I love Cribs, but they never really announce when they start running new episodes and when they do there are too many people who simply aren’t rich enough or settled enough to have an interesting home. Maroon 5 were living in a rented house that they fully admit to never having slept in. This most recent episode with Brooke Valentine was no better. Brooke Valentine is barely a star. Hell, she’s nobody. Who the fuck cares how she lives? And what the fuck is with keeping your guitar in the bathroom!?! Yeah, that’s where you want to keep a VALUABLE PIECE OF WOOD, WHERE THERE’S LOTS OF MOISTURE. Sigh. Damon Dash was showing what may or may not have been his home in London. Kanye West is actually there too, so you get two ugly egomaniacs for the price of one. Like any apartment in a major city, it’s surprisingly small, despite all the rooms. The worst part, however, had to be when he gets into the hot tub with the models paid to pretend they like him. I’m sorry, but if you were a multi-millionaire, wouldn’t you get a fucking personal trainer? Not Damon Dash. He’s very comfortable showing the world his ugly pot belly. Mick Jagger’s daughter, Jade, stops by. Why? Baby girl, you’re rock royalty. Why are you hanging with this fool? Tony Gonzales was a bit better, but Manhattan Beach must be pretty fucking expensive for a football player as established as himself to have something so relatively small, though like the English home, filled with lots of rooms. Special treat: Warren fucking Moon was in his house playing pool. Warren Moon!

“DON’T DROP THAT YELLOW CAKE!”

So, I had to break my DVD drought and get the second season of The David Chapelle Show. Obvious reasons aside, I had to take advantage of the $19.99 Best Buy new release price, because there’s no way in hell I can afford $40 (I’ve been unemployed for a full year now). I never got the first season because I was somewhat disappointed with it. It was the second year where he shone and deserved every single bit of his hype. Now, obviously the Rick James segment was pure brilliance, but for me the bits about Wayne Brady and “Black George Bush” (an underrated piece of political satire) were right alongside it and my personal favorite phrase was “Is Wayne Brady gon’ have to choke a bitch?” with “Mars, bitches,” coming in second. And even better, the DVD is uncensored (though the bleeps were half the fun). He’s got a right to go nuts under the pressure, because no matter how good the eventual third season may be, the backlash is coming and it will be ripped to shreds, especially by people who hopped on the bandwagon.

AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO RELEASE AN ALBUM EVERY FREAKING YEAR EITHER

My beloved Shelby Lynne (why does every woman look good in a red, white and blue bikini?) released another album and sadly the runner stumbles. Whenever an artist says, “I never had more fun than making this album/movie/whatever” it’s a bad sign, because good art does not come from good times. Some of the best work ever comes from the most miserable situations. Eric Clapton did Derek & The Dominoes in the middle of unrequited love and a heroin addiction (hell, his 80’s comeback was after burying his son). Shelby’s got a motherload of pain to mine (her father murdered her mother in front of her and then killed himself) and while I can’t fault her for trying to step away from it for awhile, she’s kinda boring without it. And while I love her, she’s a bit pretentious and she’s trying just a bit too hard on this one to go “back to basics.” Coupled with last year’s “Identity Crisis” this is still as reaction from the overproduced, swinging-for-the-fences-of-mainstream-success “Love, Shelby.” The album’s high point is the last untitled track where she does “Rainy Night In Georgia.” The best song is a cover? Bad sign.

HOW ABOUT “WORKING ON YOUR KNEE BENDS” YOU FAT BASTARD

I never thought it would be possible for me to feel sorry for Loverboy after he blamed Kurt Cobain for the death of his crappy band, but Hit Me Baby One More Time proved me wrong. There is more dignity in Starbucks’ Commercials (Survivor) and county fairs (Rick Springfield) than being on this show to attempt a comeback. First of all, there were only two out of a band of six. Second, the lead singer was such a fat, bloated bastard. Didn’t you know you were going to be on TV, chubby? Ease up on the backbacon, you Canadian fuck. Finally, his voice, never good to begin with, was shot. Flock of Seagulls was no better. It was the guy and the brother he hates, but apparently money bridges all gaps. We know where the other two are thanks to Bands Reunited and the bassist isn’t leaving that nice life in France for this shit. The leader singer also married some skanky groupie. She might as well have been wearing a t-shirt that read “Will Suck Dick For Riffs.” Why is CeCe Penniston here? Can’t she make a living singing at gay clubs? Only Tiffany came off well here. Her voice could only get better from her awful teen years and unlike all the others, she actually had a new album to promote, so for her this makes perfect sense. I mean, another Playboy spread isn’t going to happen (not unless she does a girl-girl layout with Debbie Gibson, whose layout did nothing for recent album either). But I can’t wish enough pain on Arrested Development. First of all, it’s not a group. It’s just that asshole, Speech. Second, he was a complete asshole who deserved his one-hit-wonder status. Dionne Farris was the original singer and you didn’t see her onstage because she hates his ass too (not to mention her own addiction to self-destructive career moves, despite a great one-hit of her own, “I Know”). But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Tommy Tutone (“867-5309 Jenny”) and The Knack next week. Okay, Wang Chung too (they actually had five hits: “Don’t Let Go” “Let’s Go” “Hypnotize Me” “Dance Hall Days” and that horrible one with their name as a verb) . All right! And The Motels (“Only The Lonely” rules). And Cameo. Not so much Irene Cara, but I know she got screwed on royalties, so I wish her all the best.

“LET IT FLY IN THE BREEZE/GET IT CAUGHT IN THE TREES…”

Finally, I’m in love with the hair of Liz Cho of Channel 7 news and I can’t explain why. Forget her. She could shave it off and give to me and I’d be happy.

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