AUGUST '05 ARCHIVE

08/29/05

MEAT PUSHIN’ IN THE SEAT CUSHION

Holding at number one is The 40-Year Old Virgin and no matter how many times I hear it, “I hope you’ve got a big trunk ‘cause I’m puttin’ my bike in it,” is still funny. Partially because of the reaction of the actress who seems delighted at the prospect of sodomy, but mainly because it’s one of the funniest metaphors for sodomy I’ve ever heard---and I’ve heard a lot. Too many, in fact (damn those nuns). This was directed by and co-written by Judd Aptow, a frequent Ben Stiller collaborator (they worked on late, great Ben Stiller Show) and the man behind the incredibly painful Freeks & Geeks and the moderately painful, Undeclared (which is now also out on DVD). He’s a master of putting the most painful memories of growing up onscreen in excruciatingly accurate detail. Your skin crawls, you can’t sit still, depression rolls in and suddenly you’re weeping uncontrollably because he and his team of writers have managed to drag up an embarrassing experience you’ve spent 20 years trying to repress. When he had a character show up to school in an outfit he thought was great, but was actually so horrible his friends had to rush him to safety, I was forced to once again deal with my pistachio-colored, rhinestone-embedded jacket and pants suit from the 6th grade---and just writing that required almost all that was left of my vodka. Supposedly, there are scenes in this movie that also come from life, but it’s not hard to guess what they are. Trying and failing miserably to hide the fact that you’re the only person at the table with little-to-no sexual experience? The truth of it stings. The easy girl you’re about to have sex with suddenly vomiting? On you? In your face? Stinks of authenticity. A wrong move during foreplay resulting in someone having a bloody nose? Yep, heard that story before. Hanging on to your virginity far too long because there’s just not enough time to collect comics and romance women? Who among us hasn’t been through that? I said, who among us hasn’t been through that!?!

ONCE UPON TIME THERE WAS A TALENTED FILMMAKER…

The Brothers Grimm opens at number two and I’d like to say I couldn’t get to see this because of an uncharacteristically busy weekend, but the simple truth is I was disappointed in what this movie turned out to be. When I initially heard that Terry Gilliam was doing a movie called the The Brothers Grimm, I had visions of him telling the Grimm Brothers fairy tales in all their brutal glory fueled by his imagination. Instead, we get this story about the Grimm Brothers being con artists running through the European countryside pretending to protect people from magical beings and then wind up fighting real magical evil, which I’m sure forms the basis of their stories later. My idea is soooo much better. Just tell the fucking stories. They haven’t survived centuries because they aren’t good. And just when the hell did Heath Ledger turn into Gary Oldman? Last time we saw him, “Colin Farrell 1.0” had somehow turned into Val Kilmer on a bad day for Lords of Dogtown. Is our former “It” boy, another victim of the Curse of the Vanity Fair cover (other victims promoted as “The Next Big Thing” include Colin Farrell, Gretchen Mol, Josh Hartnett, Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson), going to metamorphosize into every middle-aged actor in Hollywood? Will he look like Kevin Costner next? He’s got the receding hairline for it. Hell, he always had it, even with A Knight’s Tale. While Terry Gilliam holds on to much love thanks to his Monty Python days and such great movies as Time Bandits and Brazil (which I admit, I don’t love like everyone else simply because it was depressing because we all know the reality is his girlfriend was shot in the face and he goes insane), he’s pissing it away with each new film. 12 Monkeys? I’ve got your 12 Monkeys right here if you didn’t know the ending within the first five seconds (plus it was told from the wrong point of view). Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas? I don’t think even Hunter S. Thompson saw it. Fisher King? I know I saw it. I know I enjoyed it. Why can’t I remember it? Why doesn’t anyone remember the movie that gave Mercedes Ruehl an Oscar (Best Supporting Actress, which of course, led to the end of her career)?

CAREERS ARE KINDA CRAZY WITH A SPOOKY LOOKING ACTOR LIKE YOU…

Red Eye is down to number three and Cillian Murphy is apparently on his way to becoming the next great movie bad guy. After all, Christopher Lee is damn near a hundred, Christopher Walken is almost 60 and when was the last time anyone heard from Dennis Hopper? He all but stole Batman Begins this summer and now here he is in Red Eye and he also played a murderous soldier in Cold Mountain. He’s got some seriously freaky eyes that will prevent him from ever being a leading man in Hollywood, but will allow him to play the romantic lead in an indie film about someone emotionally fragile being led into love by a woman who doesn’t know how delicate he is. You only thought you could get enough of that story.

WATER SEEKS ITS ON LEVEL, PRETTY SEEKS ITS OWN REFLECTION

Four Brothers is down to number four, followed by Wedding Crashers at number five and that rumbling you felt was the universe righting itself. Pretty Brad Pitt is with the pretty Angelina Jolie and not-quite-pretty Jennifer Anniston is now with her physical equal in Vince Vaughn, who lost his barely-passing lizard looks almost immediately after Swingers allowed him to eat three meals a day and drink all night. Then again, I can understand why she might be a little wary of pretty boys right now. Still, when you’re recovering from a year like the one she’s had, you should be looking for some severely decadent fun, like the lead singer of a band or one of the millions of young pretty boys that find work on The WB. But I guess is comforting for her to finally be the best looking person in the bed with the best body after years of being in 2nd place.

ARE YOU SECRETLY DYING OF AN INCURABLE DISEASE? DEAD.

The Cave opens at number seven and yes, this falls not only under the “I don’t do the scary” rule, but also “I don’t do Ten Little Indians” rule. A Group of people fight monsters in an enclosed space to be killed one by one. You know the most original thing you can do with that idea? Have everyone survive. Otherwise it’s the same old game of identifying who’s going to die first? Is he arrogant? Dead. Is he evil? Dead. Is she aggressively sexual? Oh, so fucking dead and probably naked to boot. Is he the hero’s best friend? Dead. Is he stupidly optimistic? Dead. Is she pathetically crying fearing death? Dead. Is he/she a minority? Hmmm, that’s 50/50. You don’t wan to be accused of racism. Are you one of two minority members and is the other female? Dead.

FINALLY, THE TRUTH

March of the Penguins drops to number seven and who the fuck are we kidding? I’ll never see this.

KISSING LIAM NEESON IS NICE, BUT IT DON’T PAY THE BILLS

The Skeleton Key is down to number eight and apparently after years of being an indie “It” boy, Peter Sarsgaard has decided he needs a Lexus and some cheese on his Whopper to be doing something as painfully mainstream as this. Didn’t he learn anything from being in K19: The Widowmaker?

DUKES OF HAZZARD II: FINDING DAISY SOME ASS

Valiant is down to number nine followed by The Dukes of Hazzard, closing out the top ten at number ten, but it still managed to squeeze out damn near $75M despite dropping like a rock after the first week. I don’t know how this will translate overseas, but given a $53M production budget, it’s not a total failure and will probably turn a profit once everyone below the Mason-Dixon line can buy it on DVD. I can tell you my mom will want one. This doesn’t make anyone in it an A-list star, but they can definitely up their price for their next film and yes, this sadly means Jessica Simpson will have another film.

FOR THOSE ABOUT TO ROCK---DON’T FORGET YOUR HOMEWORK

Gene Simmons School of Rock started on VH1 and I had to see it. Putting him in an English school that would oppose him was a stroke of sheer genius, and the commercial where one of them is telling him off in the most proper tones guaranteed my time. If this show has any real flaw it’s Gene Simmons himself. Someone smarter, not to mention more talented, could have made this a genuinely good fish-out-water show because he would have earned and deserved the respect of the kids in the end, whereas, like Jack Black and the film which inspired this show, Simmons does not. And what could be more rock, not to mention heavy metal than their own school uniforms!?! Those things fucking rock! Going cliché with their clothes was just another indication Gene Simmons was the wrong man for this job. A better choice? Peter Townsend. That would have been amazing. Maybe I’m just getting old, but I would have preferred a much more intelligent and heartfelt show about kids and music (especially since Save The Music is the VH1 charity).

BEST LINE: “THE CUNNY IN ENGLAND IS THE BEST.”

So, I also had to watch Rome, because the only thing that rocks more than Englishmen playing Nazis, is Englishmen playing Ancient Romans. It’s not “rome” but “rahome.” I loved how brutal and bloody it was. Gone was all that white marble without a speck of dust or dirt on it. You could practically smell what was going on onscreen. This incredibly developed, but brutal society pretty much formed the basis of most of the western world. And Polly Walker is getting a second chance at stardom in her balls-out portrayal of Atia, after coming in second place to Liz Hurley in the hot English brunette contest of the early 1990’s. Damn HBO. Just when I think I’m out (with Entourage ending next week), they pull me back in.

CRANKY OLD MAN WATCHING YOUNG PEOPLE’S TV

I’m old. How old am I? Too fucking old for MTV, that’s how old. Maybe it’s just because I know it’s just an excuse to have a lot of hot parties in Miami. Parties I’m not invited to and even if I were, I’m too fucking old to attend. I TIVOed the Video Music Awards, but when I started running it back, I not only failed to stop it much, but I doubled the fast forward speed. The preshow was bullshit. And how fucking old is John Norris? Seeing him made me think of that episode of Will & Grace where they gave him nonstop shit for trying to wear a sleeveless t-shirt at his age (“Hey, Will. Your youth called and wants its t-shirt back.”) And unlike John Norris, Will has all his hair. And you know that opening shit with Puff Daddy (fuck P. Diddy and Diddy) just worked my last nerve, but did anyone notice how much his jacket looked like was from those Battlestar Galactica episodes where they went all white? I wish I could pretend I didn’t want one. But I saw a glimmer of amusement at how unamused Gwen Stefani was by Lindsay Lohan and it’s not hard to guess why: jealousy. Yes, Gwen, that’s what a real teenager looks like, not a middle-aged woman who strangely acts like one. I love Gwen, but that “I still feel like I’m 16” bullshit never ceases to annoy me…I hate Kanye West. He’s an asshole. Don’t care how talented he is. He’s an asshole…I think Kirstin Dunst would burst into flame if you forced her to wear a bra. And Orlando Bloom is so much prettier than she is…I think Grandmaster Flash went to high school with my dad…poor Luke. No one remembered who the fuck he was…and now Hammer? If Grandmaster Flash, Luke and Hammer are here, who’s watching the game with my dad?…The Simpson sisters show what Hilton sisters would be with marginal talent, actual morals and even less fashion sense. And Texas is not in the South, you morons…Shakira’s hip action makes me once again glad I am a man…I’m sure Missy is thinking of Aliyah all this time…Eric Roberts being a good dad and embarrassing the shit out of his stepson while trying to help him…why isn’t R. Kelly in jail? Seriously. Chicago is not LA. He should be in jail…Hilary Duff has turned into another big head on a stick. It’s basically going to take one of these little girls dropping dead to stop this….I love The Killers, but that’s because I’m old and they sound like an 80’s band…Jeremy Piven has flat out stolen Entourage from the four central characters…I’m starting to think Puffy’s constantly mentioning of Biggie might be real. It’s just too relentless and annoying to be a sales tactic…look, I know it’s Miami, but if we don’t do Spanish on MTV in New York or LA, where there are arguably more Spanish-speaking people, then we don’t need to do it here…I see Puffy’s tribute to Biggie didn’t jog Missy’s memory of Aliyah…I still don’t like Coldplay, but I like them even less when he can’t sing his own damn song. Thank god for fast forward…Joss Stone and Ricky Martin. A has been and never was and Kelly Clarkson has more hits than the two of them combined. Glad to see she held on to her ass despite getting smaller on top…Kayne West with a song called “Golddigger.” Don’t you just love it when ugly men sing about women only wanting them for money and forgetting they only want the same woman for her looks…Eva Longoria squeezing out every second of her 15 minutes…rumor has it Mariah Carey assistants have to replace size 12 labels in her clothing with size 6 labels like some dysfunctional Seinfeld episode…OOOH EVERYTHING BUT THE GIRL IN A HUMVEE COMMERCIAL! GET PAID BEN & TRACEY!…Fergie from Black Eye Peas is like Carmen Electra’s harder, less attractive older sister…I’ve always found 50 Cent boring. Nothing has changed…thank god the recording cut off at the three-hour mark. Where are the VH1 Award shows? That’s more my speed.

I CAN ALMOST FORGET THEY’RE FRENCH

Got the new Telepopmusik off eBay since it hasn’t been released in this country yet. They’re the people who did the song “Breathe” which was used in that car commercial a year or so back. It’s more of the same, but that’s hardly a bad thing.

08/22/05

“My love was so hot as mightly to nigh to bust my boliers.” --- Davy Crockett

WE ARE THE FEW, THE PROUD, THE STD FREE…

The 40-Year-Old Virgin opens at number one and I had to see this to make sure they got plight of the middle-aged virgin correct, since I was not consulted. Granted, I didn’t make it to 40 (some slut tripped me up at 35), but nonetheless, I know of what I speak. Sadly, someone working on the film also knew my plight, because there’s no other explanation for the large white boxes filled with comic books, stacks of video games and practical museum of science fiction and comic book figures throughout his home. No one getting pussy on a regular basis lives like that. Trust me on this one. The only thing missing is a large collection of porn, because without regular and thorough self-abuse, he would be the serial killer one of his friends suspects him of after 40 years of no sex. Also missing is his incredible bitterness over his situation. Pleasant and resigned defeat? Well, that’s how you know it’s a fictional movie, because the moment one character says to him, “I’ve actually avoided nice guys like you all my life,” he would have erupted into a bitter, vicious tirade about how the habit of women knowingly continuing to sleep with losers while not even bothering to give a nice guy a hummer contributed to his condition!!! I mean, what's wrong with you btiches!?! I, mean…um. Where was I? Oh. And he works out? Please. But while a little long for a one joke sex comedy, 40-Year-Old Virgin is actually quite funny and sweet, which makes the scatological bits (vomit, urine in the face) standout as totally unnecessary and awkward. But the graphic language is dead on and used to great affect, never really going overboard as vulgar for the sake of vulgarity, because let me tell you, this is how men talk about sex. While women go into painful, painful detail about sex (time, date, temperature of the fucking room), men eschew this for as much colorful vulgarity and hyperbole as possible (“She had tits bigger than the moon and I hit that ass for a hundred years!” as opposed to “It was Friday night about 11:20, I was wearing the skirt you saw that day but with a different top, the green one with the flowers? And we’d come from that Chinese place on Thompson where I had the….”). This movie is totally carried by Steve Carell and for lack of a better description, he’s a nicer version of Ben Stiller and because longtime Stiller buddy and co-writer, Judd Aptow wrote (along with Carell) and directed this, you can sometimes see Ben Stiller in this role, but he wouldn’t have been nearly as sympathetic (there’s always a certain amount of subdued anger in all Ben Stiller does because he’s never forgiven fate for not making him taller). Carell is aided in this by an assortment of sexually dysfunctional friends and co-workers who tend to make him look almost healthy in comparison. Paul Rudd chooses celibacy because he can’t get over a girl he dated for three months two years ago. Seth Rogan is surprised at how depressing watching a bestiality show in Tijuana really is. And Romany Malco (the Black guy) cheats on his girlfriend so much, he ultimately comes home drunk one night with a condom still on. Then there’s their Amazonian boss who terrifies him by asking to be a “fuck buddy” with detailed reminisces about her family’s Guatemalan groundskeeper who serenaded her with soccer anthems in Spanish when he seduced her as a teenager. And to show you just how kindred the spirit is behind this, the amazing Catherine Keener winds up his primary love interest in this film. Like Diane Lane, Keener openly wears her age onscreen and in this case it helps to make her the sexiest grandmother in the world (her 21-year-old son has a 1-year-old). And any romantic comedy (which this is in the end) that sets its climatic one-lover-in-the-pursuit-of-the-other scene to Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” gets props in my book.

AND NOTICE I DIDN’T MENTION HER ASS ONCE!

Red Eye opens at number two and to surprisingly good reviews, continuing Rachel McAdams’s rise from “that girl in the Lindsay Lohan movie” to “Lindsay Lohan was in her movie.” For this to get decent business and reviews in August when everyone knows, the real shit is released, is a feather in her cap. Besides, with a $44M budget, making almost a third of that on the opening weekend is pretty good. Rachel McAdams (or her more accurately, her agent) is also smartly adding different genres to her resume with each passing film. Teen comedy, romantic drama and now suspense thriller, which is, as we all know, the true female action movie. It fulfills the basic requirement of the “estro-thriller.” In action movies, men are usually professionals avenging something, while women in the “estro-thrillers” are just normal people pushed into protecting their families (Jodie Foster in Panic Room) or surrogate families (Jennifer Lopez in The Cell). Like action movies, this is also seen as a quick route to box office success in a leading role for an upcoming star like McAdams, or salvation for a falling star like Lopez (Enough), pre-Oscar Charlize Theron (Trapped) and Ashley Judd fruitlessly going back to the well (High Crimes, Twisted). In this one, her father is the target and she subsequently begins to unexpectedly kick the ass of her would-be tormentors. I like Rachel McAdams (despite of how much I hated The Notebook) enough that I actually considered seeing this, but for me it was a bit ruined to learn in the commercials that half the movie takes place off the plane, as a claustrophobic setting is integral to a good thriller. I’m more making an excuse for my sheer laziness, but that did dampen my enthusiasm. Not to mention ruining the great creepy poster art which shows one hand in distress against an airplane window.

I TRIED TO MAKE IT A DRINKING GAME BUT…

Four Brothers is down to number three and speaking of having a smart agent who helps you vary your roles, Mark Wahlberg is actually helped by real-life versions of “E” and “Ari” that you see on Entourage and you can pretty much guess which one pushed him into things like I Love (I won't put that little heart symbol there) Huckabees and which one pushed him into The Italian Job (and its upcoming sequel, The Swiss Job) and how they both might have joined forces on the big budget payday of Planet of the Apes, just as Ari and “E” fight over indies but join forces to work with a name director (in real life Tim Burton, on the show, James Cameron) on a mainstream film to get the money. In fact, looking over Walhberg’s resume now becomes a guessing game of “Ari vs. E.”

CURIOUS GEORGE MANAGES AN ACTOR’S CAREER

Wedding Crashers is down to number four and knocking on the door of $200M and what’s the saddest thing about this? Out of half a dozen films over the last two years, it’s the most successful film in which Will Ferrell has appeared. Yes, he has a cameo in this the way Ben Stiller, Luke Wilson and Vince Vaughn all turned up in Anchorman in the film’s funniest scene. And yes, with his star is already sinking he’s already taken that very obvious step to save it: he will be the voice of The Man In the Yellow Hat for the Curious George animated movie.

I’VE TRADEMARKED THAT PHRASE SO YOU HAVE TO PAY ME TO USE IT

The Skeleton Key is down to number five and to show you how fleeting fame is in Hollywood, this opened last week at less than Red Eye opens to this week, so now, Rachel McAdams moves ahead of Kate Hudson on the “Young Female Lead” list despite a shorter resume, because on that resume are two hits in the last two years, something Hawnspawn cannot say. Kate Hudson was also supposed to be in the I Dream of Jeannie movie, but now it’s supposedly Jessica Alba. Ouch. In fact, Hawnspawn fails on TV as well as theatrically, as Goldie’s son, Oliver Hudson has failed in two TV shows already and looks older than he is (not a positive attribute). Oddly enough, she carried him for 10 months (born at 11 pounds) and he began breathing while still in her womb, leading to massive bacteria in his lungs. I guess that ages you. Unlike his sister, his pretty looks never come across as nice and he needs to stop playing the nice guy lead and resign himself to what he really is: the new Steven “Wings” Webber.

ANOTHER ONE OF MY EMPTY PROMISES

March of the Penguins is actually up to number six and I will see this! I swear it!

ROBERT CARLYLE ISN’T THE ONLY ONE HOPING FOR THAT TRAINSPOTTING SEQUEL

Valiant opens poorly at number seven and there are free drinks at Pixar tonight as Disney fails once again without them. And this give Ewan MacGregor his second failure of the summer and let’s face it, outside of Star Wars, his career has been one massive disappointment after Trainspotting and the underrated and wonderfully dark and mean-spirited, Shallow Grave. And if you try throwing “Yeah, but he’s still got Star Wars” in my face let me throw two words right back at you: Mark Hamill. And he got the good ones! And outside of MacGregor, this reads like a “Who’s Who That Didn’t Get A Job In Harry Potter” with Ricky Gervais, Tim Curry, Jim Broadbent, John Cleese, Hugh Laurie, John Hurt and Olivia Williams all doing voices.

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS, STAYS IN VEGAS---EXCEPT THE DEATH OF ONE’S CAREER

The Dukes of Hazzard is down to number eight, which puts a massive damper on any ideas that anyone involved had on actual stardom. In fact, Jessica Simpson was supposedly up for a Vegas contract. Sign it, girl! Sign it quick! It’s good money and steady employment and quite frankly, you’d be lucky to get it. And one thing I do have to give them credit for in this movie is leaving the Confederate flag on the roof of the car. Yes, it’s offensive to some, but honestly, growing up in the south I can tell you, it can mean everything or nothing at all and in this case, it means nothing at all and the car simply wouldn’t look right without it.

ACTUALLY SOME PEOPLE DID LEARN FROM DAVID CARUSO

Charlie & the Chocolate Factory is down to number nine and Sky High closes out the top ten at number ten and the teenage son of Kurt Russell in this film, who is technically the lead, also plays Jack’s son on Will & Grace and oddly enough this gives him the biggest success outside that show of anyone on it, as The Wedding Date only made $33M and no one else had any illusions about even carrying a film.

“THIRD PRIZE IS YOU’RE FIRED.”

Yes, the rumors are true. I am now a licensed real estate agent. In New York City, this makes me an agent of the devil because real estate is such a precious commodity. To some, this may seem long overdue, as I’ve been temping at this real estate place since February. To others, it’s a major shock, as I am not the sales type. Believe me, this was never part of “The Plan” but since “The Plan” hasn’t been right since I was 26 maybe I should just let that go. All I know about real estate is what I learned from Lex Luthor in Superman The Movie (“…people are no damn good, but they will always need land and will pay through the nose to get it.”), the first five minutes of Panic Room (“It would be delightful if I could show the property.”) and Glengarry Glen Ross (“It takes brass balls to sell real estate”). I looked for job, believe me, but it’s finally dawning on me that no one wants to hire a guy who’s almost 40, especially in anything even remotely entertainment related, where youth is the key. Also, I pissed away my youth and have dick amount of experience for anything even remotely interesting. I was actually set off on this by Surrogate Sister who tried to talk me into taking the salesman courses with her. I refused but did the research for her---which piqued my interest. After weeks of hedging and discussing it with practically everyone I know, I finally decided to take the plunge, but I didn’t tell Surrogate Sister, which is admittedly a dick thing to do, but I refused to let her take credit for it (which she didn’t really deserve, because her mother told her to do it). There are literally dozens of course choices in Manhattan, but I had to take location and cost into the matter (goodbye NYU) and wound up at the New York Real Estate Institute on 35th Street across from Macy’s. It’s a 45-hour course, with classes seven days a week, day and evening courses and you don’t have to take them in any particular sequence. The classes were plenty full, a result no doubt of the current “bubble” (which will, of course, pop now that I’m part of it) filled with dozens of dissatisfied people all looking for some salvation in real estate. My brother joked that not only had I gone from being “Jerry to George” (George Costanza started off in real estate if you remember), but it was the occupation of the bored housewife. And I did see those there. I also saw what looked like doormen looking to advance, older career people looking for a second chance, get-rich-quick kids and some of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen outside of a professional pretty (actress, model, dancer) setting. I should be used to it, because not only do women succeed more in real estate (when it comes to selling homes, both men and women trust women more), but more attractive women do better for obvious reasons. When that acting/modeling/dancing career doesn’t seem to be working out or paying the bills, this is the move to make. Even Dorito Cheeseburger Woman who is an actress/slash model mentioned she’d been looking into it. Yes, this is New York City and seeing beautiful women everywhere is part of our daily lives (hell, one just overdosed on heroin last week), but it never ceases to be a pleasurable experience. I did a weekend of 9-5 classes and the lovely Chinese girl sitting next to me for my first four-hour class, was replaced by a lovely Vietnamese girl for my second four-hour class. But they paled compared to the large-breasted, flat-stomached, Asian girl who sat next to me on my final class. Not because she was prettier, but because smelled like a bar (stale booze and cigarettes), which meant she was probably kinda slutty. We spoke briefly and when I asked her why she was doing it she replied “Because I can’t think of anything better to do.” In other words, one of her friends told her that a hot Asian girl with big tits and a flat stomach could make a killing selling real estate and they were right (some women I know would call her “Jewish kryptonite”). There was also the beautiful sista who kept telling horror stories about the racism and apparent near prostitution at the commercial real estate firm where she worked (she her hear boss openly describing how she looked on the phone) but none held my attention like the woman who looked exactly like the Mean Irish Redhead I once dated (yes, I realize “mean redhead” is redundant). She was platinum blonde, but otherwise in face and body looked just like her and it drove me crazy because it would be just like that bitch to sit there and pretend she didn’t know me. I was done with the classes in about three weeks of nights and weekends and took a two-week break before the school and state exam to study. Needless to say, I did absolutely no studying during those two weeks and read the entire textbook the weekend before my exams. And just so you know, there were pretty boys in class too---don’t get me started on the idiot who doesn’t know what uranium was---and the one next to me on the exam was cheating like a madman, which ain’t going to help him on the state exam because they have people walking up and down the aisles. I passed them both and only then did I tell the people at my real estate firm that I’d done it at all. Sorry, but the last time I told people of what I was “planning to do” I wasn’t done for another two years, so now I give up nothing until I’m finished. But even then it took me two weeks to finally get the big boss alone to ask her and she told it would be great to have me. So now I’m sales agent at as well as a temp who happens to work there. You know what this means, right? You sorry muthafuckas who didn’t support me when I was writing for CMJ: New Music Monthly had better come across with the contacts now. Think of it as an investment in your future. Help me now so I can help you later when you’re looking for a place. And don’t forward me the article from The New York Times about agents. It’s been done.

I’M SOOOO GOING TO HELL FOR THIS NEXT PARAGRAPH

What’s worse than a young person dying of drugs at the very beginning of their lives? Someone young and hot dying of drugs at the very beginning of their lives. If you’re a freshman male at NYU this fall there is no greater tragedy than seeing that a beautiful, Cindy Crawford-looking, 17-year-old Columbian girl who liked to party, died from bad heroin this week. And also her slightly-less-attractive-therefore-more-likely-to-put-out, best friend! But this bad heroin story? Wasn’t this on Law & Order? CSI? Forget “ripped from the headlines.” It’s more like “ripped from the reruns.” Who knew it really happened? And while you can feel nothing but pain for the parents, who should never, ever have to face burying a child, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the friends who insist they were somehow “tricked” into doing it. Obviously, you didn’t know them at all. Even her mother knew she was a party girl. I’m well aware of the casual drug habits of my friends and while I obviously don’t approve, the only thing that would shock me about a drug related death would probably be what they were wearing at the time. “Heroin? Well, I get that but what’s with the shoes from Nine West? Someone must have tricked her into putting those on.”

WHO WEARS SHORT SHORTS? CLERGY FUCKING WOMEN WEAR SHORT SHORTS

One more look at the monsignor and his lady. She knows the world is watching them, but when she goes to church does she dress conservatively? A nice ankle-length sundress? No. SHE’S WEARING SHORT SHORTS! Why not just wear a shirt that reads, “NO ONE KNOWS I’M A HO”? I predict she’ll be nude in some magazine before all this is said and done.

AND ACTORS WONDER WHY PEOPLE LOOK DOWN ON THEM

Courtney Love violated her parole by doing drugs when she swore she wasn’t. Jenny McCarthy is getting divorced from the husband she stole. And Mena Suvari is divorcing that middle-aged man she married. Exactly who is surprised by any of this? And who gives a fuck that Tom Sizemore has sex tapes? Especially when they’re not with Elizabeth Hurley, whom he was dating while Hugh Grant was still in England and she was here making such films as Passenger 57 and…well, that’s it. And if you want to know the difference between Black rappers and White rappers, this is it: Black rappers cancel tours because of prison for violent crimes. Eminem just canceled his European tour because of addiction to sleeping pills. Man, what a pussy drug addiction. So much for his street cred. If I was his publicist I totally leak a heroin or coke rumor, because this will sell no albums. “Yo, my boy is down because of Excedrin PM” is simply not working.

TAKE IT! TAKE ANOTHER LITTLE PIECE OF MY HEART, BABY!

Okay, so I couldn’t wait for the weekend to begin the comic book cleaning. In fact, I worked on it every night this week. The end result: about five boxes are going to go, which averages out to be about 1,500 comic books. Not much when you consider I started with over 6,000, but to drop a fifth of my collection is something. And it would actually be more, except for the fact that the rest of my collection is home with mom and dad, who will no doubt be delighted at the direction this has taken. Hell, I’m always amazed when I go home and my parents haven’t sold them off in my absence.

SAVING ME MONEY ON RENTALS WITH EVERY NEW SINGLE

Gwen Stefani continues to make porn in three-minute films. First, she dressed up like a cheerleader for me in “Hollaback Girl” and now she apes a 50’s pinup queen in her retro video for “Cool” and when she rocks that brown hair, she could easily be Jennifer Esposito’s sister, which is alright by me (which means she also resembles Janet Jackson choreographer Tina Landon).

08/15/05

NOT LOOKING FORWARD TO THAT URBAN VERSION OF “RED RIVER”

Four Brothers opens in the number one slot and I don’t see John Singleton films any more. I said he sucked when Boyz N The Hood opened and after over a decade of on the job training, he has yet to change this way of thinking. He and Fantastic Four director, Tim Story are hell-bent on showing that Black directors can churn out the same hack shit as any White guy. This time he’s made a loose remake of The Sons of Katie Elder, where four brothers reunite to avenge a slain mother and I didn’t even care for John Wayne’s version, so I would hardly be interested in an urban remake. And what’s up with Detroit being the home of the new “gritty”? Apparently, New York, LA and Chicago have a little too much culture and class, so if you want to get seriously real, you have to go to Detroit (The Upside of Anger not withstanding, but that was actually filmed in England, though set in Detroit). In recent memory it’s been 8 Mile, Narc and Assault on Precinct 13 (which was itself a remake of Rio Lobo) and it’s never depicted anyway less than the ultimate in urban blight. And while I admit Mark Wahlberg does have a certain charm and charisma, Tyrese makes me want to punch things. Mostly him. And let us once again pity the poor actors of the world, who study, train, sacrifice and audition again and again---only to watch rappers take their jobs. Yes, Andre Benjamin of Outkast is here, denying yet another real actor a job. And if you want to be accurate, so do Mark Wahlberg and Tyrese, both having started in the music business, but having all but left it behind now. And poor Terrance Howard. More people will see his supporting role in this than will ever see his bid for stardom with Hustle & Flow. Hell, it’s already made more money in one weekend than Hustle & Flow has made in the entirety of its release.

AND YOU THOUGHT ALL IT TOOK TO BE A STAR WAS BLONDE HAIR & CONNECTIONS

The Skeleton Key opens at number two and speaking of actors who can’t seem to break through to leading status, we have poor little rich girl, Kate Hudson, who seems to be confessing at every turn that maybe, just maybe, marrying a B-list rocker 15 years her senior and having his vile seed may not have been the wisest decision in the world---but all the while insisting she’s happy. Now, as we know in the Angrygeek School of Film, children’s films are the province of A-list actors indulging themselves or former A-list actors trying to halt a career slide. Let’s add to this list horror films. Same type of thing. Indulgence for A-list actor, attempt to halt a career slide for everyone else. And by horror, I mean ghosts, monsters, etc. Not suspense films. Now, Kate Hudson has been anointed a star for half a decade now according to the press (and by men who find her mother now simply too old to beat off to), but where she hasn’t been is the box office. Her only hit was How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days, which was only saved by overseas results. Everything else has tanked. So here she is trying to take the horror movie shortcut to the top, because this genre has a built-in audience who’ll see just about anyone (see “Campbell, Neve”), as the real draw is the scare and not the star. Even so, it couldn’t beat Four Brothers, thus confirming that Kate Hudson is simply not a star and will soon be following Heather Graham to television, where she should have started off like her mom. And it doesn’t help that the commercials give away what seems to be a vital plot twist, in that it’s not an accident that her character winds up in the haunted house. Isn’t that typically a plot twist at the end of the second act? Why the fuck is it in every commercial? Well, you know I’ll never see this. Aside from my rule of “We don’t do the scary,” it takes place in New Orleans and my memories of The Big Easy, while fond, are also of crotch-drenching heat and while I’m also suffering through it hear in New York, I don’t need to see it onscreen as well. I swear it’s like we’re living in Satan’s Asscrack. Hot, moist and smells like hell.

CATHERINE BACH NEVER HAD ANY ASS EITHER, BUT NOBODY CARED

The Dukes of Hazzard is down to number three and, now I feel a little guilty about ragging on Jessica Simpson’s non-ass. Why? Well, because no one, not even her should have a cover story about your physical limitations, which is exactly what The Star did to her. I’m standing in line at the grocery store, getting my pound and a half of cheese for $5 (Food Emporium’s sales are why I’m a fat bastard) and I see on the cover “What Happened To Jessica Simpson’s Butt?” I look inside and there’s no less than a six-page article about her lack of an ass and whether or not they padded it for Dukes of Hazzard (they did) or went for surgery (obviously not since it’s gone). There’s even a timeline of ass shots over the years, showing that the only time she ever had even a bump was while wearing the special Dukes of Hazzard costume shorts. Now, it’s one thing for me to go on about it for the eight or nine people who read this every Monday morning to remind themselves their lives could be worse (you could be me), but for it to be on the cover of millions of magazines in millions of stores all over the country? That’s like a Jennifer Anniston level of humiliation. All I can say is, apparently some bruthas have taken over The Star and are intent on setting the record straight for all the frat boys out there hiding their latent homosexuality behind a love of flat-assed women like Jessica Simpson, Cameron Diaz, Angelina Jolie…we could be here all day.

BUT ADD “HO” TO ANYTHING AND IT’S FUNNY

Wedding Crashers is down to number four followed by Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo opening at number five, and while I’ll never see this, never saw the original and hate Eddie Griffin, the phrase “man-ho” does make me giggle.

BEARD BENEFITS

Charlie & The Chocolate Factory is down to number six, followed by March of the Penguins down one notch to number seven and Sky High down to number eight, and Kelly Preston is also in this, but who the fuck cares? I mean seriously, who cares? How does this woman still work? Apparently, John Travolta has come back so much, everyone feels that another is inevitable, so they want to remain on his good side. You know, I’d rather see Rita Wilson, Tom Hanks’s wife. Her breasts are equally as nice and she’s not a batshit crazy scientologist.

THERE’S OBVIOUSLY SOMETHING IN WATER OUT IN GREENPOINT

Must Love Dogs is down to number nine and also in this Elizabeth Perkins, of whom I’ve always been a fan. She and Mary Louise Parker were like two sides of the same coin back in the late 80’s, early 90’s when they first popped up on the scene. Mary Louise Parker had that sexy girl next door thing going on, whereas Elizabeth Perkins was like her older, uptight Valedictorian sister who always looks like she just bit into something sour. But I like ‘em mean, so that’s no problem for me. She was never really able parlay the heat from Big into something more, but never went away either. And does it surprise anyone that, if I like her and she’s mean, that she’s from Queens? And how happy am I that they’re together on a show on Showtime? I mean, the only way it could get better is if they have scene where they get a little high and decide to experiment…but that’s the only way. I haven’t seen it yet, but that’s to my now-working DVR (I’m on my third), I can watch it any time I get ready.

DID ANY GOOD GUYS DIE IN WORLD WAR II?

Finally, after years on the Miramax shelves, The Great Raid finally finds its way to theaters as they continue what amounts little more than a fire sale of shit Miramax has made over the years, never to see the light of day because the Weinstein Brothers fucked it up by so interfering with production. This is yet another based-on-a-true story from World War II and you know what always shocks me about these movies? How the real-life guys are usually still fucking alive! I’m serious. They’re always alive and living in Seattle and shrug off any hint that the incredibly brave and self-sacrificing thing they did was in any way brave and self-sacrificing. They were just soldiers following orders and doing a job (which, ironically was also what all the Nazi soldiers said at the end of the war). And what the hell is John Dahl doing behind this? Was it work-for-hire or is he yet another closet WWII buff? This is the man who was bringing us some of the best modern film noir with stuff like Kill Me Again, Red Rock West and the amazing, The Last Seduction. After that, however, he was swallowed up by the studios, making stuff like Unforgettable (which might have worked as a smaller indie film) and now this.

SOMEWHERE, DON JOHNSON DOESN’T GET WHY PEOPLE ARE LAUGHING

Not breaking the top ten is Broken Flowers, the latest from indie god, Jim Jarmusch. Starring Bill Murray, this is the story of an aging Don Juan who receives and anonymous note that he’s got a son from twenty years ago. He then sets off on a road trip to see the possible mothers. Now, the virtue of indie film happens to occasionally be its biggest liability: nothing happens according to formula. Sometimes this can be refreshing, especially after your most recent paint-by-numbers romantic comedy shit fest, but doesn’t it become a problem when it’s too much like life? I mean, isn’t why we go to the movies to see stories that have a beginning middle and an end, unlike real life where stories start before you know it and you seem to just wander aimlessly in the middle until it’s suddenly over? This is not to say some conventions aren’t the same in both mainstream and indie film. The always great Jeffrey Wright is nothing less than “The Wacky Neighbor” complete with accent (he’s Ethiopian), a brood of cute kids and eccentricity (he loves detective novels and pushes Bill Murray into solving “the mystery” of his unknown son). And the very set-up is contrived. I mean, why not just call these women up and ask them? Why travel? One of the problems is that we never know Bill Murray’s character, so we never know why he’s really willing to go on this journey. You can make any number of odd guesses, but you never really know. And what we do know about him is delivered with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. We first see him watching a movie about Don Juan. His latest girlfriend, Julie Delpy (another one who never quite made it here, despite her hype) leaves him, calling him “an aging Don Juan”, Jeffery Wright also calls him Don Juan and his name is Don Johnston (which also gives way to a running gag about Don Johnson). HAVE YOU GOTTEN IT YET!?! Not exactly setting the world on fire with artistic subtly here. But the encounters with the women of his past are on the good side of the difference between indie film and mainstream. None are the same and are hardly sentimental clichés the way there would have been if this had been a Hallmark made-for-TV movie. The very first is played for humor between him and widow Sharon Stone and her daughter Lolita, who lives up to her name, but manages to give it an edge by walking out in front of Bill Murray totally naked (it’s indie, so it’s full frontal, kids) within moments of meeting him and then saying goodbye in the smallest of bikinis. In between, Sharon Stone obviously bears him no ill will and is happy to have an old lover back, even if it’s just for one night. Contrast this with Tilda Swinton who hates him and he gets beaten up for upsetting her. And that’s it. He dusts himself off and leaves. In a mainstream film, there would have to be some sort of reconciliation for them. Not here. In fact, of the four encounters, only one seems happy to see him (a fifth doesn’t count, because he just visits her grave). The others are surprised, surprised with a hint of resentment and finally utter hatred. Throughout the film we also have two reoccurring backgrounds. The first is obviously women. Attractive women are everywhere and we notice them while they notice him, thus confirming that his Don Juan persona is legit and innate. The second is his noticing of every late teen male as a potential son and by the end of the film, it’s obvious this is something he as come to desperately want. Does he get it? Well, this is an indie film so what do you think? Oh, and the indie film habit of making every thing longer than it needs to be is still in full effect.

I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO LOOK AT MY LITTLE PONY THE SAME WAY AGAIN

Okay, remember when I told you about that guy in Seattle who died while fucking a horse? If you’re like me, you assumed he must have had a stroke. Why else would fucking kill you? Well, he didn’t die from a stroke. He died from “acute peritonitis” which means his colon was perforated. By what you ask? Think about it. Yeah, that’s right. Let it sink in. Yes, THE HORSE WAS FUCKING HIM! ARRRAAAGGGGHHHHHH! I HAVE TO WASH MY SOUL NOW! Of course now, they’re getting ready to make a bestiality law in Washington State. Oh, and by the way, Catherine The Great died from pneumonia. Just so you know. She was a nymphomaniac, but she did not die while trying to fuck a horse. Interesting fact: the real nympho was her lady in waiting, who personally tried out every man for Catherine and only letting the best through. How no one has ever made a movie about her is beyond me. I mean, not even a soft-core film, like the kind that were all the rage in the 70’s giving people like Sylvia Kristel and Dayle Haddon work. Remember Dayle Haddon and her classic Spermula about sperm-seeking vampires? Her daughter is Christian Slater’s soon-to-be ex-wife who throws bottles at his head.

THE OSTRICH BURGER WOULD HAVE BEEN $12

So, I decided to try Good Burger, the supposedly healthy burger place which just opened up in my neighborhood, hammering home the point that this is now a yuppie paradise. It wasn’t bad, but when I pay $10 for a burger, fries and a soft drink simply because it’s healthier, then I’d better leave the place five pounds lighter, two years younger and another three inches on my dick (giving me the seven I’ve always wanted) , because otherwise it’s not worth it.

FORGIVE ME, FATHER, I HAVE SINNED…BUT YOU KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT THAT, RIGHT?

How much do we love the story of the monsignor and the woman whose first marriage he used his contacts to have annulled, but also presided over her second!?! Of course, in true Catholic form, he’s a self-righteous prick who lectured on the evils of homosexuality and Hollywood, while himself living out the plot of a Christopher Reeve movie from twenty years ago. But here’s the rub: you can understand why someone would want to bone Christopher Reeve in a priest’s collar---in fact, that’s what makes it so hot---but this guy is an old, ugly, flabby man. Ew. Who wants this on top of them? But what really gets me is, in the wake of all this no one has notice this man HAS A 2 MILLION DOLLAR ESTATE! WHAT THE FUCK!?! HOW DOES A SERVANT OF GOD ACQUIRE A $2M HOME!?! Didn’t Jesus have a bone to pick with the rich and with the existence of poverty? And lets not forget her salary of $70-100K a year, with trips to Rome, Libson…The Bahamas? Sigh. Even when they stop fucking little boys, the church still manages to screw it up.

SUDDENLY EXISTENTIALISM MAKES MORE AND MORE SENSE

Speaking of Christopher Reeve, what’s the reward for nursing your paralyzed husband for a decade before he finally dies? Why, lung cancer of course! I foresee a sudden interest in Buddhism for poor Dana Reeve, because obviously this Christ thing is not working for her. But someone monitor the phones in case Tom Cruise calls. Also on the near death horizon is Rob Cohn taking a bullet to the head and living. Apparently Death can’t decide just how much she really wants to hear “Walking In Memphis” live. But I think this automatically qualifies him to work with Dr. Dre. But Death is clear about her love of southern rock as the lead singer of Molly Hatchet died a few months ago. Where was I? I personally know no Molly Hatchet songs, but growing up in Georgia, I saw the t-shirts constantly. And the Dallas matriarch, Barbara Bel Geddes died, almost 20 years after Donna Reed, who briefly took her place on the show when she had health problems. Yes, kids. That is what we call irony.

LAY DOWN WITH DOGS, WAKE UP WITH FLEAS…AND GOD’S OWN JUSTICE

God continues to kill boy scouts and those near them. This time he killed a Girl Scout at a Boy Scout first aid camp. He’s not kidding around, people. You’d better start being nicer to homosexuals.

BEER GOGGLES

Last week I kept calling Maggie Cheung “Joan Chen.” I cannot think of a more grievous mistake---except for when I called Catherine Bach “Barbara.” Hey, I usually write this drunk, so you’re just gonna have to learn to give a little when it comes to details! While attractive and wonderfully nude throughout her career, Joan Chen is nothing compared to Maggie Cheung who is a goddess and quite frankly a little crazy. Which is why we like her.

WHEN I WAS CHILD, I USED TO SPEAK AS A CHILD, THINK AS A CHILD, REASON AS CHILD; AS A MAN I TOOK THAT CHILD OUT BACK AND SHOT HIM

Finally, adulthood has hit me like a rock and I’ve made probably the hardest decision of my life. Based on my lack of space, money and continuing comic book habit, I’m going to start getting rid of some of the six-thousand+ comics now occupying my closest (twenty boxes, 300 per box filed alphabetically and chronologically and a few hundred as yet unfilled). Wait…getting dizzy…hard to breathe….room spinning… Okay, where was it I? Yes, preparing to do the unthinkable. But this will take some time. First, I must cherry-pick through the 6,000, which leads to reading, which leads to 12 hours later, I’ve accomplished nothing. And there’s no way in hell I’m giving up anything with Superman, Captain America or Dick Grayson (who started as Robin but grew up and became Nightwing), but do I really need a Lex Luthor mini-series from 1996? I think not. Okay, first, obviously, we will turn to our old standby of eBay. Then we’ll try Craig’s List, until finally, just giving them away. Damn, there goes that pain in my chest again…can’t feel my legs…everything’s getting dark…I see a bright light…Jack Kirby? Is that you?

08/08/05

BESIDES, WAYLON JENNINGS IS DEAD AND HE WAS HALF THE SHOW

The Dukes of Hazzard opens at number one and I couldn’t bring myself to see this. It’s been a long summer and I simply couldn’t take giving up two hours of my day for something that would only further drain my soul. Not to mention, I’ve got a serious problem with bad southern accents in movies. Out of the three leads, only one actually southern and that’s Johnny Knoxville who is from---take a guess---Knoxville, Tennessee. Also, I don’t like Jessica Simpson and her famewhore self. She’ll do anything to be famous and the stench of desperation fills her every appearance. The success of this has only pushed the “leaking” of her sex tape by another six months. And why the hell is she not a brunette? Daisy Duke was not a blonde and neither is Jessica Simpson, quite frankly, so who are we kidding? I also couldn’t stand the idea of being in a theater full of idiot frat boys going on about how hot her flat, flat ass is. Jessica Simpson herself says her ass if flat, but you can’t tell these homoerotic morons anything. They love that boy-booty but can’t accept the reasons why. Not that Barbara Bach had one either, but it was more about her legs (and that bikini is supposed to be fire engine red too). The only things that briefly tempted me about this movie were fond memories of the show (on the night it premiered, I’d stayed home sick from school and that night my mom propped me up in front of the TV to watch it with her while she took care of me) and the fact that it comes from the guys in Broken Lizard, who did the amazing Super Troopers, where the cops were more like the Dukes of Hazzard than this seems to be (they’ve got a serious jones for Lynda Carter as she was also in Super Troopers). But between this and Club Dread, I’m getting the feeling that Super Troopers was a fluke, because you’re not supposed to start sucking so quickly once you get a little money. But because the good lord does not close a door without opening a window, the success of this is a nice slap in the face of Ben Jones, the idiot who played Cooter on the show and has been calling for a boycott because he considers it “smutty.” Get. A. Fucking. Life. Bear in mind, he was trying to get a role in it and was turned down. Speaking of which, where are the obligatory cameos by the surviving members? I’ve heard nothing. Then again, it took them five freaking years just to reunite the Duke boys on Smallville (Tom Wopat will finally be on this season), so it obviously doesn’t come easy. Both John Schneider and Tom Wopat have spent years on Broadway trying to earn some respect and aren’t going to simply let it slide at the drop of a hat. Not for Superman and not for Jessica Simpson…and her flat ass!

WHOM THE GODS WOULD DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE STARS

Wedding Crashers is down to number two and now Owen Wilson is saying Hollywood is the reason he can’t settle down and get married. Yeah, because that’s the only place in the world with pussy and the only thing better than that: new pussy. He’s also becoming quite the little asshole diva so it’s going to be fun watching him fall.

AMAZON (AM’E-ZON’)“A TALL, AGGRESSIVE STRONG WILLED WOMAN”

Charlie & The Chocolate Factory is down to number three, followed by Sky High at number four and this gives Lynda Carter (aka, Linda Jean Cordova) two films in the top ten and recently she confessed to having longtime problem with alcohol. Wonder Woman was a boozer!?! Oh, man. Talk about having your childhood illusions shattered. I haven’t been this disappointed since I found out she was only 5’9” and her husband was one of the sleazebags involved in the S&L scandals (remember them?). There’s a new Wonder Woman film in the works and she is the standard by which all others shall be judged. Yes, the show was silly and cheesey, but she damn sure looked the way Wonder Woman should look and it makes my stomach turn to even hear the name Mischa Barton mentioned. How anyone other than some fuckwit corporate knob could even possibly mention this pipe-cleaner of a girl in connection is beyond me. Excuse me, but SHE’S A FUCKING AMAZON! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!?! That does not mean 5’6” and 92 pounds. I’m already concerned because writer/director Joss “Buffy The Vampire Slayer” Whedlon is already covering his ass with bullshit statements like, “Women can make themselves seem taller than they really are.” Which means, “When I’m forced to cast Lindsay Lohan by the studio, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” This is utter crap. X-Men was filled with unknowns and B-listers. Spider-man, the most successful superhero movie ever, was headlined by non-star. Batman Begins had a B-lister and Superman Returns will have a total unknown. Why this insistence on talking to fucking Sandra Bullock is beyond me. Forget that she’s too fucking old. How about she’s too fucking short! Now, I can almost see Catherine Zeta Jones despite the height issue, but she’s also too old and I’m glad he at least had the balls to admit that. You wanna see what Wonder Woman should look like? There was a show called Xena where Lucy Lawless essentially played Wonder Woman for six fucking years (and Renee O’Conner did a pretty good Wonder Girl).

I’M NOTHING IF NOT PREDICTABLE

Must Love Dogs actually holds at number five, so somebody’s going to see it. Also in the cast is Dermot Mulroney (aka, Mr. Catherine Keener), this time playing Mr. Not-So-Perfect, as opposed to the Mr. Perfect he played in The Wedding Date, another formula romantic comedy I had to go see because I loved the female lead (Debra Messing that time). And if you’re wondering just why this character sounds like all of John Cusack’s other characters, it’s because director and co-screenwriter, Gary David Goldberg (the man behind Family Ties and Spin City, making him Michael J. Fox’s best friend) let him write his character’s dialogue. What the fuck? How about making the fucker act for his goddamn dollar? Did you let Christopher Plummer change his dialogue? Suppose if he’d wanted to play his character as a renegade former IRA Colonel plotting the downfall of the English government (which would have been damn funny) instead of the sentimental poetry spouting Irishman you see here (I swear at any moment you think he’s going to lapse into a rendition of “Danny Boy”). And knowing that Gary David Goldberg is behind this explains why it doesn’t have the edge needed to be exceptional, but still has a goodly amount of one-liners.

STOP THINKING

March of the Penguins jumps up to number six and you would think if I was blowing off seeing Dukes of Hazzard, I’d instead find the time to see this. Well, you’d be wrong.

“WHO’S THE BEST PILOT YOU EVER SAW?”

Stealth is down to number seven and the casting irony of this film is that, in this movie about pilots, Sam Sheppard is cast as the head of the project and gulf of manliness between the man who once brought Chuck Yeager to life and Josh Lucas, who is supposed to be our hotshot hero couldn’t be crossed by a jet moving at mach 10 for a full year. In fact, if you were even remotely thinking of seeing this, go buy The Right Stuff on DVD instead and rent Summer Catch with Jessica Biel to see an equally nice bikini scene. It would cost about the same (I’m going to assume you can get a date).

HEY, WHO’S THAT GUY?

Fantastic Four is down to number eight and yes, Stan Lee does make his obligatory cameo. In case you’re wondering, he plays the Fantastic Four’s longtime mailman, Willy Lumpkin. And if you knew that, then you also saw this dateless.

NEXT WEEK THEY’LL ALL BE WORKING FOR JOHN SAYLES FOR $100 A DAY

War of the Worlds is down to number nine, followed by The Island at number ten and also in this is Steve Buscemi, who is also obviously looking to pay for his indie career with this shit. So we’ve got not just the two leads whoring themselves out, but the supporting cast as well. He’s the nice guy who helps Ewan McGregor out when he escapes. Guess what happens to him? Yep, “the imagination factory” must have been on overload to create the character of the friend who dies helping. Then there’s the idiocy that the US Military wouldn’t help them keep a cover up like this a secret because they were having soldiers cloned. Please. They would have worked harder than anyone else and damn sure wouldn’t have cared about the morality of it all. But when I say “imagination” you know I’m being facetious, because obviously no one with an imagination worked on this film.

A BETTER ASIAN SCIENCE FICTION ROMANCE DRAMA YOU’LL BE HARD-PRESSED TO FIND

Not breaking the top ten is 2046, the unofficial sequel to Wong Kar Wai’s In The Mood For Love. It was just released this week in the US, but I bought it in Chinatown this spring after failing to get tickets to see it at the Tribeca Film Festival. If you’re going to see this, I recommend a Saturday or Sunday, because you’re going to need a full day’s recovery from all the heartache and longing. When we last left Tony Leung, he’d run into Maggie Cheung in Cambodia, where she was with a tour group. He’d gotten a divorce from his unfaithful wife, while she not only remained with her unfaithful husband, but now had a child. Now we find him in Singapore trying to get Gong Li to go to Hong Kong with him. She refuses, so he goes alone and runs into one old girlfriend, also incapable of getting over a lost love, who happens to be staying in a hotel room numbered 2046, which was the number of the room where he briefly stayed while not-with Maggie Cheung (they never consummated their relationship). Infatuated by the number, he tries to take the room when he learns she’s gone (he learns later the room wasn’t ready because she’d in fact been murdered in it by a jealous boyfriend), but has to take 2047. Zhang Ziyi (named Bai Ling, who is not in this movie) moves into 2046 and they begin an affair. She’s a hooker (not exactly, but there’s money in exchange for time and sex, so who are we kidding), but falls in love with him, but he can’t recover from Maggie Cheung and who can blame him? Zhang Ziyi is uber-cute and does the tempestuous sexy thing very well, but she’s still just a little girl. While in the hotel, he also witnesses the love affair between the owner’s daughter and Japanese man of which her father disapproves (all the Asian races hate each other because they’ve all tried to conquer each other; this will be on the final). All the relationships in his life find their way into “2046” stories that he writes, which are set in the year 2046 and we see glimpses of them (2046 is also when mainland China’s agreement to leave Hong Kong as the British left it expires). Given top Chinese stars can’t do nudity, there’s a butt-load of sex in this is, some of it fairly explicit between Tony Leung and Zhang Ziyi, which isn’t bad because they’re both good looking. My only problem is that he looks best either clean shaven or rocking the goatee he had in Hero (where again he loved Maggie Cheung and boned Zhang Ziyi, such hard life this man has), but in this he wears that pencil thin mustache the entire time. The whole movie is pretty much about love and longing and love affairs that rarely work out. Both Zhang Ziyi and Gong Li offer Tony Leung a chance at new love and possibly happiness. All he has to do is get over Maggie Cheung. If you’ve seen the deleted scenes from In The Mood For Love (where we’re shown him in the 70’s, with an even uglier mustache) you know what happens. The film jumps constantly in time. We begin in the future of one of his stories, then into his actual past and then jump forward at intervals and in and out of the stories. Some times it’s 10 minutes, other times its 100 days, and there are reoccurring jumps to Christmas Eves from 1965 to 1969. Also, at the very end, we get the full story between him and Gong Li, when he goes back to Singapore on Christmas Eve 1969. I enjoyed it enough to desire a third entry, but I don’t think my heart to take any more of this lost love and longing. Just give the man Maggie Cheung already! And do you really need me to tell you it’s absolutely stunning to see? And you gotta long Wong Kar Wai’s love of putting women in 60’s dresses so tight and heels so high it looks like even Chinese women have asses.

“WE’RE OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD…AND FERMENT A REBELLION AGAINST HIS VILE TYRANNY.”

So I finally started reading Gregory Maguire’s “Wicked” a year after I bought it. If you remember, I was briefly infatuated with the musical Wicked because of the song “Defying Gravity” (and no, not simply because the Wicked Witch of the West was played by Idina Menzel, a.k.a., Mrs. Taye Diggs). I tried to get lottery tickets, but soon gave up and after playing the song 500 times, I tired of that as well. Well, commuting has me reading again, so I’m going through all the unread books in my library (that I didn’t sell) and got to Wicked. In case didn’t know, it’s the untold story of The Wicked Witch of the West, who is finally given a name: Elphaba. Also it tells you where flying monkeys came from, the origin of the Cowardly Lion, Tin Man and Scarecrow; the story of Ruby Slippers (which were Ruby only in the movie, but Silver in the original book) and why the Witch of The East wore them, where Elphaba got her hat and broom, where The Wizard came from and just why the Witch was green. But if you’re looking for light-hearted fun, look elsewhere. And if you plan on reading it STOP NOW! I’M GOING TO GIVE AWAY PLOT SECRETS! This is pretty much the story of Elphaba’s miserable life all the way up to her miserable death. I can’t the say the book isn’t well written or captivating (I was up till 5:00 am reading it), but it’s not happy either. Elphaba suffers pretty much from the day she’s born until the day she dies. Her mother is a slutty princess who had three children from three different fathers, none of whom was her husband, a holly-rolling minister. Elphaba is born green because a stranger pretty much drugged her mother with a green exlir and raped her (if you hump a drugged woman, even though she probably would have done it anyway, it’s still rape to me). That stranger turns out to be none other than The Wizard himself, putting a new spin on his struggle with The Witch. Her sister, The Wicked Witch of The East second daughter is from a glass-blower with whom her husband is also a little bit in love and is born armless. The ruby slippers have an enchantment from Glinda that allow her to walk steady. Their mother then dies giving birth to a son, but at least he’s normal. Did I mention the glass-blower is also murdered by a mob? Having fun yet? Elphaba grows up rebellious and more than a little paranoid, and while she’s our protagonist and we do care for her, we can never really like her because she remains prickly throughout. When she goes to college she winds up rooming with none other than Glinda (whose name begins as Galinda) and is a social climber and doesn’t like her green roommate. They do eventually become friends, but because this book isn’t about happily ever after (I mean, we know what happens to her in the end) it doesn’t last long. The cruel headmistress not only murders Elphaba’s favorite professor and Glinda’s nanny, but after Elphaba drops out of college and become part of a rebel underground against The Wizard (who is a despot here), and actually finds a brief happiness with a lover, the headmistress has the lover murdered. Elphaba goes into shock for a year and when she finally regains her senses, she’s part of a convent and has given birth to a son. A son she’s indifferent to at best until the day she dies. There’s more death and pain to be found, complete with a confrontation with The Wizard where he reveals he could care less for all the death and pain he’s caused in Oz because he’s actually from another world (Earth) and only came there to get a magic book that had been hidden in Oz specifically from him. Unfortunately Maguire---who specializes in revisionist fairy tales having done books on Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Cinderella--- never fully explains any of this and the story ends soon after. To see this type of conceit done right, you need to read The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart. It’s the final book in her King Arthur series, but told from the point of view of Mordred. Unlike Elphaba, whom is never really likable and is finally giving into the insanity she’s been on the verge of her entire life when Dorothy mercifully kills her, Mordred is a likable character but a victim of fate. His version is cleverly told so that you can see why in his case, evil is a point of view, something Wicked strove for, but failed to accomplish since The Wizard is so obviously evil and The Witch for the most part is not (though she does kill a child, he almost killed her son first). Stewart has Mordred the loved son of Arthur though most know him only as Arthur’s nephew. Arthur does in fact make Mordred his heir and when he’s thought to be dead, Mordred assumes the throne, but must re-negotiate treaties and alliances that died with Arthur and unlike Arthur, he cannot dictate terms. When King Arthur returns alive to reclaim his kingdom, Mordred has no choice but to oppose him because his sworn oath in the new treaties requires him to. It’s a greater sense of tragedy, because it could have ended “happily ever after” but for inches. In Wicked, Elphaba pretty much screws up every good thing she has (she fails to even kill the evil headmistress in time and only winds up mutilating her corpse), so you’re never the inches away from happiness necessary for a story to be truly tragic. She’s pretty much cursed from birth and we just watch her go through it to the bitter end. Needless to say, the musical is drastically different from the book, because there’s no way in the world rubes from Kansas are paying Broadway prices to be depressed by, of all things, The Wizard of OZ. In fact, I may have to really see it now to get this depressing taste out of my mouth, to know that somewhere The Wicked Witch of the West did live happily ever after.

A SCOUT IS BRAVE, LOYAL AND TRUE…AND NOW TERRIFIED OF STORMS

God hates the Boy Scouts. He must. He keeps killing them. And you can’t say it’s not god because it’s always lightning. How much more divine can you get? Next it’s going to be Seven Plagues. Let the gays in, people. How much clearer do we have to make it?

GUESS WHO’S DEAD THIS WEEK?

Peter Jennings dies and while news is not technically entertainment, it’s not purely news either and never really has been. And if you don’t believe Death wants every body, she even took Neil Simon’s brother. So, if you’re even the least bit entertaining, your family is also at risk.

08/01/05

"HOT TIME SUMMER IN SUMMER IN THE CITY/SWEAT IN MY DRAWERS MAKING ME FEEL ICKY...”

Did I mention that as much as I’m happy winter finally fucking ended, the one thing that made it bearable was the absence of that inescapable by-product of a hot summer’s day: sweaty crotch. Sorry, but I can’t stand it. I’m hyper aware of it at all times and it kills me. I’m feeling a tad fortunate that I’m not having sex with someone, because then comes that awkward moment when you have to pretend taking a shower beforehand is some sort of sexy foreplay and not merely to escape sticking your face down there, in that dank cauldron of sweat and crotch and ass funk that’s been cooking since set foot outside your apartment at 8:00 am this morning. Not even booze can let you get past that. And this whole hipster rule that you aren’t supposed to wash your jeans, especially if they’re the trendy “treated” kind, comes under serious review, because two blocks in Manhattan in jeans leads to so much crotch and thigh sweat it feels like a waterfall into your socks. Do what I do: wash them inside out and hope for the best, because when you can smell you own crotch without the benefit of a contortionist position, it’s time to sacrifice being hip.

SO IN A FEW YEARS, SHE TOO WILL BE “ACCIDENTALLY” KNOCKED UP BY A BILLIONAIRE

I’ve just realized Sienna Miller is the new Liz Hurley. A nobody-actress who becomes a media darling because her pretty boy movie star boyfriend cheats on her. Suddenly, where every woman was jealous of her and resented her thin-blonde pretty (for an English girl) life, they’re now all sympathetic and sisters in the “All Men Are Dogs” club. Liz Hurley suddenly warranted a one-on-one interview with Barbara Walters when her only claim to fame before was that Versace pin dress and the role of “Hot Terrorist” from Passenger 57. Sienna Miller just got back the lead in the Edie Sedgwick story that she’d lost to Katie Holmes---who is suddenly realizing there was an easier way to jump to the head of the line besides selling your soul to a crazy gay guy to be his beard. All she needed was to date some movie star whom she knew would cheat on her. Oops. Hindsight.

MOM SAYS…

I tend to “sigh” a lot when I’m writing emails or instant messages (‘cause you muthafuckas drive me crazy). Some people even make fun of me for it. Well, recently I made the mistake of doing it to my mother who replied, “You don’t get to sigh. I’m your mother and only I get to sigh.” Okay, so now it’s two things I can’t do: 1) cook in my mother’s home, and 2) sigh in front of her.

AND HE WAS NEVER HEARD FROM AGAIN!

Finally, this is late because I had important “me” shit to do. Not because I NOW HAVE TIVO! Well, not TIVO exactly, but the DVR offered by Time Warner Cable. I had to replace my cable modem and now they let you just come down and exchange the equipment, not wait for a guy to come to your house. So while I was down there, I upgraded. Just in time for the new fall season! Speaking of which, do you smell it? It’s right around corner. Yes, it’s getting close to FOOTBALL SEASON! And while, of course, my first devotion is to my Falcons, I’m fascinated by the whole Ricky Williams story and how Miami isn’t even pretending there’s anything more important than and no one is asking them to.

Home