Dreamgirls establishes one thing and one thing only, with no debate: American Idol-reject Jennifer Hudson can sang. And her rendition of And I Am Telling You rivals Jennifer Holliday's performance of that signature song in the Broadway version, filling it with the power and soul that this power ballad deserves.
Jennifer Hudson's portrayal of Effie White, the diva deemed too bold and black and heavy-voiced by manager Curtis Taylor to be lead singer, is the heart of this movie, and Hudson imbues White with a sultry sensuality as well as a break-your-heart vulnerability.
But the rest of the movie, driven as it is by strong performances by nearly everyone, just doesn't have that spark.
Unlike the jazzy Chicago, for which director Bill Condon wrote the script, Dreamgirls wilts its way from stage to screen. The freshness that marked the Broadway show seems outdated some 20 years later.
Its strengths, however, are still evident in the film version. The issues surrounding black music are just as relevant now as they were when the play premiered Dec. 20, 1981. Curtis Taylor has big dreams and makes bold and controversial moves to put a black all-girl group on the pop charts (i.e. making Deena (played by Beyonce Knowles) the lead singer instead of Effie White. And going pop also means diluting the gospel-tinged sound that the group initially had.
In the background, you see bits and pieces of the times in which Dreamgirls is set. You see a record of Martin Luther King's iconic I Have A Dream speech being pressed. Riots rage throughout the country after King is assassinated. And the cold-hard reality of what it takes to make it big and all the compromises that entails are ever-present.
After all, this is a movie about dreams and about the choices we make to make those dreams possible. And it is about pain, when those dreams begin to turn into harsh nightmares.
That pain is etched into the performance of Eddie Murphy as James "Thunder" Early, a James Brown-like singer. Thunder's wild and crazy performances enliven the film, and you'll get a kick out of seeing Murphy sing something other than "Party All The Time." But it is in the moments when Early begins to realize that his time in the spotlight is rapidly fading that you see a depth in Murphy that you haven't seen before.
It's not a performance that knocks you over, and much of what you see in this film is not too much different than what Murphy has done in the past. But it is nice to see Murphy tackle a challenging role like this.
By far, the most disappointing performance in the movie comes from Beyonce Knowles. Much has been written about how she lost weight and worked on this character. But the end result is just as vacant and wooden as anything she has done before this film. You never get an idea of what's going on inside Deena. Beyonce tries to act with her eyes, which would be fine if her eyes weren't open so wide all the time.
The only time we get some goosebumps is when she sings "Listen."
As for the film, Condon moves the action along pretty quickly, a major achievement for a movie that runs more than two hours. The musical set pieces are well done, and there are some nice moments. Jamie Foxx gives Curtis Taylor a nice snake-oily charm and shows good chemistry with Hudson's Effie White.
But none of this is enough to elevate Dreamgirls from being a good movie to being a great one.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Friday, December 15, 2006
The Pursuit of Happyness
Chris Gardner's life was all about pursuit of happiness, that little phrase found in the Declaration of Independence. There was never any guarantee that he was going to get happiness, but he sure went after it with all he had.
Gardner's pursuit is at the center of the new movie, The Pursuit of Happyness, with Will Smith starring as the real-life Gardner. Jaden Smith, Will's son, plays Gardner's son in the movie.
This is a Horatio Algiers-type story, a tale of the great lengths a man will go to achieve greatness.
And though we know what the end result will be, the story is in the journey. And what a journey it is.
As played by Smith, Gardner is a bright man who makes boneheaded decisions, like the one where he puts his family's savings into selling a bone-density scanner that doctors actually don't need. The IRS is after him, he's two months behind on rent and his car is towed away for unpaid parking tickets. Plus, his wife, played by Thandie Newton, is about to leave him.
Could things get any worse? Yes, they do. But the silver lining is an intership at Dean Witter, where Gardner hopes to become a stockbroker.
Obstacle after obstacle falls in his path. Gardner loses his wife and his home and he's working as an unpaid intern, so no money is coming in. The burden of raising his son amid all of his failures as a man is seen through Smith's nearly crumbling face.
This is by far one of Smith's most serious roles. His charm and good looks do him no good here. Smith gives a powerful performance as a man who struggles to make a better life for himself and his son.
Smith disappears into his role, though glimpses of what has made Smith such a likable star over the years can be gleaned. Jaden Smith is a natural on the screen, effortless in his performance.
The ending.... well, we all know that Gardner's pursuit is not in vain, but that beautiful moment of tear-filled joy feels well-earned.
Gardner's pursuit is at the center of the new movie, The Pursuit of Happyness, with Will Smith starring as the real-life Gardner. Jaden Smith, Will's son, plays Gardner's son in the movie.
This is a Horatio Algiers-type story, a tale of the great lengths a man will go to achieve greatness.
And though we know what the end result will be, the story is in the journey. And what a journey it is.
As played by Smith, Gardner is a bright man who makes boneheaded decisions, like the one where he puts his family's savings into selling a bone-density scanner that doctors actually don't need. The IRS is after him, he's two months behind on rent and his car is towed away for unpaid parking tickets. Plus, his wife, played by Thandie Newton, is about to leave him.
Could things get any worse? Yes, they do. But the silver lining is an intership at Dean Witter, where Gardner hopes to become a stockbroker.
Obstacle after obstacle falls in his path. Gardner loses his wife and his home and he's working as an unpaid intern, so no money is coming in. The burden of raising his son amid all of his failures as a man is seen through Smith's nearly crumbling face.
This is by far one of Smith's most serious roles. His charm and good looks do him no good here. Smith gives a powerful performance as a man who struggles to make a better life for himself and his son.
Smith disappears into his role, though glimpses of what has made Smith such a likable star over the years can be gleaned. Jaden Smith is a natural on the screen, effortless in his performance.
The ending.... well, we all know that Gardner's pursuit is not in vain, but that beautiful moment of tear-filled joy feels well-earned.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Bloody Diamonds
Some might say diamonds are a girl's best friend, but after watching the brutally violent Blood Diamond, the new film starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Djimon Haunsou, you might start thinking otherwise.
DiCaprio is DannyArcher, a diamond smuggler from Zimbabwe. Haunsou is Solomon Vandy, a man who is forced to work in the mines after his family is taken by rebels. One day, Vandy finds a large pink diamond, which becomes his only bargaining chip once he finds out his son has been taken to become a soldier in the rebel army.
Director Ed Zwick, who has made a reputation for making politically-conscious movies, tackles the issue of conflict diamonds.
Conflict diamonds are diamonds that are mined in areas controlled by rebel groups trying to overthrow a government. Those diamonds illegally find their way into the marketplace, and the money from the trade goes toward buying arms and other things that help keep a civil war going.
Archer cares about getting paid and he doesn't much care, at least not initially, that the diamonds he smuggles are funding wars. Maddie Brown, played by Jennifer Connelly, does care and pricks at Archer's conscience and charms him in helping her to expose the whole mess.
Vandy, however, is at the center of it all, with his pink diamond and his all-consuming search for his family.
As with all things, the personal is the political, and it is through the prisms of these three people that Zwick peels back the carnage and exploitation created by conflict diamonds.
The movie's title is a literal one. Blood is spilled from the first frame to nearly the last. The most disturbing part of the movie is seeing children brainwashed by rebels into becoming cold-blooded killers. Their innocence is sucked out of them bit by bit and replaced with a horrifying numbness to murder.
DiCaprio gives one hell of a performance, proving once and for all that he is no longer that fresh-faced kid in Titanic. He is a grown-ass man, rough and reckless and ultimately decent.
Hansou is both strong and vulnerable, risking his life and that of others as he goes to the heights of sheer nuttiness to save his son. And Connelly's Brown is passionate and headstrong with just enough tenderness to make you still care.
Zwick keeps a quick pace throughout, which is remarkable for a movie that is over two hours long. He would have, however, done well to shave off maybe a half-hour instead of having such a corny ending.
But that's a minor complaint to a movie that delivers a truly powerful story about the price we pay for the sparkles on our fingers and around our necks.
DiCaprio is DannyArcher, a diamond smuggler from Zimbabwe. Haunsou is Solomon Vandy, a man who is forced to work in the mines after his family is taken by rebels. One day, Vandy finds a large pink diamond, which becomes his only bargaining chip once he finds out his son has been taken to become a soldier in the rebel army.
Director Ed Zwick, who has made a reputation for making politically-conscious movies, tackles the issue of conflict diamonds.
Conflict diamonds are diamonds that are mined in areas controlled by rebel groups trying to overthrow a government. Those diamonds illegally find their way into the marketplace, and the money from the trade goes toward buying arms and other things that help keep a civil war going.
Archer cares about getting paid and he doesn't much care, at least not initially, that the diamonds he smuggles are funding wars. Maddie Brown, played by Jennifer Connelly, does care and pricks at Archer's conscience and charms him in helping her to expose the whole mess.
Vandy, however, is at the center of it all, with his pink diamond and his all-consuming search for his family.
As with all things, the personal is the political, and it is through the prisms of these three people that Zwick peels back the carnage and exploitation created by conflict diamonds.
The movie's title is a literal one. Blood is spilled from the first frame to nearly the last. The most disturbing part of the movie is seeing children brainwashed by rebels into becoming cold-blooded killers. Their innocence is sucked out of them bit by bit and replaced with a horrifying numbness to murder.
DiCaprio gives one hell of a performance, proving once and for all that he is no longer that fresh-faced kid in Titanic. He is a grown-ass man, rough and reckless and ultimately decent.
Hansou is both strong and vulnerable, risking his life and that of others as he goes to the heights of sheer nuttiness to save his son. And Connelly's Brown is passionate and headstrong with just enough tenderness to make you still care.
Zwick keeps a quick pace throughout, which is remarkable for a movie that is over two hours long. He would have, however, done well to shave off maybe a half-hour instead of having such a corny ending.
But that's a minor complaint to a movie that delivers a truly powerful story about the price we pay for the sparkles on our fingers and around our necks.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Casino Royale
Bond, James Bond.
Those words are the trademark phrase of debonair secret service agent James Bond, played over the years by Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan and now blond-haired Daniel Craig.
Consternation ensued when Craig was chosen as the next James Bond. Forget his intense ocean-blue eyes. Critics, instead, focused on his blonde hair and less-than-smooth look.
Could this be the James Bond of the 21st century? Indeed, he could be, as Craig ably shows in Casino Royale.
As directed by Martin Campbell, this movie reimagines James Bond, strips away the boring invincibility and replaces it with a skin-scrapped vulnerability.
This Bond is much darker and more human than we have ever seen him. He gets tortured; he gets his heart broken; and he fouls up big time.
We see a man primed to kill slowly and painfully learn the sophisticated art of being a British spy.
Eva Green is the love interest and she is no mere Bond girl. Green bristles with intelligence, and the chemistry between her and Craig is hot and more importantly, believable.
And unlike other Bond movies, their relationship is the emotional core of the film.
What Campbell has done is ground Bond in a bit more reality. No huge special effects are found here, thankfully.
And they are not needed. The action sequences are well-done, Campbell putting enough suspense to keep interest.
But it is Craig's Bond that you can't take your eyes off, a refreshingly darker Bond who we see just finding his fit in a tuxedo.
Those words are the trademark phrase of debonair secret service agent James Bond, played over the years by Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan and now blond-haired Daniel Craig.
Consternation ensued when Craig was chosen as the next James Bond. Forget his intense ocean-blue eyes. Critics, instead, focused on his blonde hair and less-than-smooth look.
Could this be the James Bond of the 21st century? Indeed, he could be, as Craig ably shows in Casino Royale.
As directed by Martin Campbell, this movie reimagines James Bond, strips away the boring invincibility and replaces it with a skin-scrapped vulnerability.
This Bond is much darker and more human than we have ever seen him. He gets tortured; he gets his heart broken; and he fouls up big time.
We see a man primed to kill slowly and painfully learn the sophisticated art of being a British spy.
Eva Green is the love interest and she is no mere Bond girl. Green bristles with intelligence, and the chemistry between her and Craig is hot and more importantly, believable.
And unlike other Bond movies, their relationship is the emotional core of the film.
What Campbell has done is ground Bond in a bit more reality. No huge special effects are found here, thankfully.
And they are not needed. The action sequences are well-done, Campbell putting enough suspense to keep interest.
But it is Craig's Bond that you can't take your eyes off, a refreshingly darker Bond who we see just finding his fit in a tuxedo.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Stranger Than Fiction
I love Will Ferrell. I never saw much of him on Saturday Night Live but in his movies, he has this lovably sweet innocence. And it doesn't matter that he might be running naked, as he famously did in Old School. You forgive him and laugh right along with him because he just seems like a nice guy.
That helps him a great deal in his new movie, Stranger Than Fiction. Ferrell plays Harold Crick, an IRS agent who lives his life by the numbers. He gets up at the same time every morning and goes to bed the same time every night. He even times his coffee breaks.
He is alone and he just so happens to be a character in somebody's book. That someone is Karen Eiffel, played by Emma Thompson. Eiffel is a reclusive author plagued by writer's block.
Her problem: She can't figure out how to kill Crick. And Crick can't seem to get Eiffel's eloquent narration out of his head.
Yes, this is all rather odd, and the movie never seeks to explain how Crick could be a character in Eiffel's novel.
But the good thing is Crick is a fully-fleshed character. Ferrell restrains himself. No wilding-out antics here.
Instead, Ferrell brings a certain level of pathos to the character. Here's a guy who suddenly has to confront his own death and he finally decides he really wants to live. Plus, he has love in his life.
Thompson just literally sinks into her character. She has a gaunt and desperate look about her throughout the whole movie, her character driven almost to the point of insanity with writer's block.
Queen Latifah, Dustin Hoffman and Maggie Gyllenhaal all bring their enormous talents to bear as supporting actors.
Yes, the ending is corny but somehow you don't mind, especially when the journey has been such a fun ride.
That helps him a great deal in his new movie, Stranger Than Fiction. Ferrell plays Harold Crick, an IRS agent who lives his life by the numbers. He gets up at the same time every morning and goes to bed the same time every night. He even times his coffee breaks.
He is alone and he just so happens to be a character in somebody's book. That someone is Karen Eiffel, played by Emma Thompson. Eiffel is a reclusive author plagued by writer's block.
Her problem: She can't figure out how to kill Crick. And Crick can't seem to get Eiffel's eloquent narration out of his head.
Yes, this is all rather odd, and the movie never seeks to explain how Crick could be a character in Eiffel's novel.
But the good thing is Crick is a fully-fleshed character. Ferrell restrains himself. No wilding-out antics here.
Instead, Ferrell brings a certain level of pathos to the character. Here's a guy who suddenly has to confront his own death and he finally decides he really wants to live. Plus, he has love in his life.
Thompson just literally sinks into her character. She has a gaunt and desperate look about her throughout the whole movie, her character driven almost to the point of insanity with writer's block.
Queen Latifah, Dustin Hoffman and Maggie Gyllenhaal all bring their enormous talents to bear as supporting actors.
Yes, the ending is corny but somehow you don't mind, especially when the journey has been such a fun ride.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Sawing through another sequel
I turned away from the screen more than watched it when I went to see Saw III today. Here's the man chained to the walls of a small room with hooks piercing his arms, legs, ankles, sides and chin. A bomb will blow in a minute and some change and he must rip those hooks off to get out in time.
A woman trapped in a contraption hooked into her ribcage must dip her hand into acid to retrieve a rapidly dissolving key at the bottom.
And a naked woman is chained in an ice room as freezing water is sprayed on her. And all of this is the work of our villain played ably by Tobin Bell.
The first movie had one hell of a devilish twist, and Saw II boasted a nice performance by Danny Walhberg, but the third, while at times clever, shows that this series may have run its course.
After all, you know what you're going to get: a series of nasty little tests that end with somebody's head crushed or arm twisted almost clear off. And though it might be fun to think what you might do in any of those crappy situations where you have to decide between screaming your head off or smashing your foot in to get out of an ankle chain, you don't want to keep seeing the same thing over and over again.
Bottom line: for all of its twists and turns, Saw III is horrifying only in its predictability. The graphic violence is not meant to scare but to shock.
Nowhere is there any sense of tension. Nowhere is there any investment in character. Nowhere is there much good acting, unless you count Tobin Bell's skin-crawlingly creepy performance.
A co-worker couldn't believe I liked Hostel. She thought it was close to pornography with all the gratuitous nudity. And yes, there is gratuitous nudity.
But I will argue that the movie's second half is thick with suspense, and the first time I saw it, I didn't know what was going to happen. I squirmed, I jumped and I was completely undone by the movie's final beyond-intense 15 minutes.
From Saw III, all I got was a tease for another sequel. I think it's time to put an end to this franchise. Please. This can't go on like Friday the 13th.
A woman trapped in a contraption hooked into her ribcage must dip her hand into acid to retrieve a rapidly dissolving key at the bottom.
And a naked woman is chained in an ice room as freezing water is sprayed on her. And all of this is the work of our villain played ably by Tobin Bell.
The first movie had one hell of a devilish twist, and Saw II boasted a nice performance by Danny Walhberg, but the third, while at times clever, shows that this series may have run its course.
After all, you know what you're going to get: a series of nasty little tests that end with somebody's head crushed or arm twisted almost clear off. And though it might be fun to think what you might do in any of those crappy situations where you have to decide between screaming your head off or smashing your foot in to get out of an ankle chain, you don't want to keep seeing the same thing over and over again.
Bottom line: for all of its twists and turns, Saw III is horrifying only in its predictability. The graphic violence is not meant to scare but to shock.
Nowhere is there any sense of tension. Nowhere is there any investment in character. Nowhere is there much good acting, unless you count Tobin Bell's skin-crawlingly creepy performance.
A co-worker couldn't believe I liked Hostel. She thought it was close to pornography with all the gratuitous nudity. And yes, there is gratuitous nudity.
But I will argue that the movie's second half is thick with suspense, and the first time I saw it, I didn't know what was going to happen. I squirmed, I jumped and I was completely undone by the movie's final beyond-intense 15 minutes.
From Saw III, all I got was a tease for another sequel. I think it's time to put an end to this franchise. Please. This can't go on like Friday the 13th.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
The Departed
Martin Scorsese doesn't make movies easy to watch. You squirm in your seat, but just like a car wreck on the road, you can't turn your eyes away. In fact, you slow your car just to get a better look.
And Scorsese's new movie, The Departed, is that way. In many ways, this is vintage Scorsese, a movie that delves into the grittiness of life and finds poetry.
The Departed is actually a remake, or better yet a reimagining, of a Hong Kong movie called Infernal Affairs.
Leonardo DiCaprio, who has appeared in Scorsese's past two movies, is Billy Costigan, a kid from South Boston whose family upbringing wasn't the best. Nevertheless, he wants to become a cop and ends up going undercover to infiltrate mob boss's Frank Costello's inner circle.
Matt Damon is Colin Sullivan, another ambitious cop who is also a rat for Costello, played with eye-brow raising bluster by Jack Nicholson.
Costigan and Sullivan have never met but their lives are destined to collide, as Costigan borrows deeper into the Costello and Sullivan is entrusted to find the undercover cop Costello suspects is working against him.
This is a movie about corruption that runs deep and wide and rips apart everyone in its path, even those who try to do the right thing.
The performances are raw and the language vibrant, tought talk masking vulnerability.
And Jack Nicholson, as he always does, is hilarious and sinister all in the same time, snarling out his lines with gusto.
No, there is no happy ending in this movie, but with most Scorsese movies, there rarely is.
But the journey is one well worth taking because with Scorsese, the beauty lurks in the ugly.
And Scorsese's new movie, The Departed, is that way. In many ways, this is vintage Scorsese, a movie that delves into the grittiness of life and finds poetry.
The Departed is actually a remake, or better yet a reimagining, of a Hong Kong movie called Infernal Affairs.
Leonardo DiCaprio, who has appeared in Scorsese's past two movies, is Billy Costigan, a kid from South Boston whose family upbringing wasn't the best. Nevertheless, he wants to become a cop and ends up going undercover to infiltrate mob boss's Frank Costello's inner circle.
Matt Damon is Colin Sullivan, another ambitious cop who is also a rat for Costello, played with eye-brow raising bluster by Jack Nicholson.
Costigan and Sullivan have never met but their lives are destined to collide, as Costigan borrows deeper into the Costello and Sullivan is entrusted to find the undercover cop Costello suspects is working against him.
This is a movie about corruption that runs deep and wide and rips apart everyone in its path, even those who try to do the right thing.
The performances are raw and the language vibrant, tought talk masking vulnerability.
And Jack Nicholson, as he always does, is hilarious and sinister all in the same time, snarling out his lines with gusto.
No, there is no happy ending in this movie, but with most Scorsese movies, there rarely is.
But the journey is one well worth taking because with Scorsese, the beauty lurks in the ugly.
Monday, October 02, 2006
No Flavor in Love
I try not to watch Flavor of Love. But I can't help it. Same thing with The Bachelor. Both shows have pretend-to-be ladies nearly falling out of their dresses (okay, on Flavor of Love, the women most times have barely anything on in the first place) for some guy.
Now on The Bachelor, the guy is reasonably good looking.
On Flavor of Love, the guy is Flavor Flav, once the best hype man any politically conscious rap group like Public Enemy can have. Now, the 47-year-old recovering drug addict is an enemy to himself, a has-been who has morphed into a caricature.
But who cares what the guy looks like. This is reality television and viewers are lulled into believing romance is women acting like fools for some guy they just met, that soulmates will be found when relationships from these reality television shows wither the moment the cameras vanish.
Of course, this is a guy's fantasy, to have dozens of women clamoring for the chance to be his bride forever, or at least for the moment. And we in our living rooms have great fun laughing at the women snipe and bitch and claw at each other like dogs fighting over the last chicken bone.
And I wonder as I look at all of this what these shows say about women. Of course, some will argue that these women choose to go on this show, for whatever reason. It could be that they really dig the guy (hard to believe, I'm sorry to say, about Flavor Flav). Some hope this will be their big break. Or they think this will be something to tell the grandkids when they're older.
Regardless, the fact is that these women are in a sense degrading themselves. Yes, that's a strong statement but what else can you call it.
What woman, in her right mind, would voluntarily give away all the power in the dating situation that she has in real life?
See, in real life, the guy is supposed to ask the girl. He's supposed to brush off that nagging fear of rejection and talk to that girl in the bar, the bookstore, wherever, talk to her and get her number and call her later and ask her out and try to kiss her, knowing all the while that the woman has the right and the power to say no. And the guy has to pick his ego off the floor when "no" in whatever polite way the woman says it comes from her lips and he has to move on to the next woman and the next woman until he gets that "yes."
I mean, that's what real life is. Real life isn't a man having a pick of 25 women and he gets to eliminate half the first night and the remaining 11 have to smile, bat their eyes, shake their behind, and laugh at bland jokes until they get their man. What crap.
A female friend of mine nagged a boyfriend by being a real bitch. She ignored him ruthlessly for weeks and when she finally did give the guy a chance, she wouldn't let him kiss her for a long time.
Okay, maybe that's a bit too far but you get the idea.
I want a woman who I feel comfortable approaching but I also want a woman who leaves me wanting more. So sorry, the girl who has her breasts falling out so much you can see nipple or who has the tip of her thong hanging out of her too-tight pants ain't going to get any play. Smells desperate.
Now on The Bachelor, the guy is reasonably good looking.
On Flavor of Love, the guy is Flavor Flav, once the best hype man any politically conscious rap group like Public Enemy can have. Now, the 47-year-old recovering drug addict is an enemy to himself, a has-been who has morphed into a caricature.
But who cares what the guy looks like. This is reality television and viewers are lulled into believing romance is women acting like fools for some guy they just met, that soulmates will be found when relationships from these reality television shows wither the moment the cameras vanish.
Of course, this is a guy's fantasy, to have dozens of women clamoring for the chance to be his bride forever, or at least for the moment. And we in our living rooms have great fun laughing at the women snipe and bitch and claw at each other like dogs fighting over the last chicken bone.
And I wonder as I look at all of this what these shows say about women. Of course, some will argue that these women choose to go on this show, for whatever reason. It could be that they really dig the guy (hard to believe, I'm sorry to say, about Flavor Flav). Some hope this will be their big break. Or they think this will be something to tell the grandkids when they're older.
Regardless, the fact is that these women are in a sense degrading themselves. Yes, that's a strong statement but what else can you call it.
What woman, in her right mind, would voluntarily give away all the power in the dating situation that she has in real life?
See, in real life, the guy is supposed to ask the girl. He's supposed to brush off that nagging fear of rejection and talk to that girl in the bar, the bookstore, wherever, talk to her and get her number and call her later and ask her out and try to kiss her, knowing all the while that the woman has the right and the power to say no. And the guy has to pick his ego off the floor when "no" in whatever polite way the woman says it comes from her lips and he has to move on to the next woman and the next woman until he gets that "yes."
I mean, that's what real life is. Real life isn't a man having a pick of 25 women and he gets to eliminate half the first night and the remaining 11 have to smile, bat their eyes, shake their behind, and laugh at bland jokes until they get their man. What crap.
A female friend of mine nagged a boyfriend by being a real bitch. She ignored him ruthlessly for weeks and when she finally did give the guy a chance, she wouldn't let him kiss her for a long time.
Okay, maybe that's a bit too far but you get the idea.
I want a woman who I feel comfortable approaching but I also want a woman who leaves me wanting more. So sorry, the girl who has her breasts falling out so much you can see nipple or who has the tip of her thong hanging out of her too-tight pants ain't going to get any play. Smells desperate.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
United 93: A Journey into pain and heroism
On Sept. 10, I finally sat down to watch United 93, a raw journey into the confusion and surrealism of Sept. 11.
Paul Greengrass, in almost documentary style, paints a portrait of those moments before the planes hit the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, and it is a chilling one.
What hits you is how normal everything is. You see people yapping on the phones as they wait to board the plane. And while on the plane, you see them eating, working on their laptops and talking with each other. You see the two pilots, one who hopes to see his children and wife soon and another who can't wait for an upcoming vacation.
These were people who, like many of us on Sept. 11, were going about their day, never knowing that this would be the day that they died.
And as the plane finally takes off, you also see the news of the attacks come into focus slowly. One plane and then another suddenly veer off course, and you can hear someone saying something about a hijacking, but the message is garbled.
You see the disbelief in people's eyes as they see first one plane and then another crash into the Twin Towers.
You see the news begin, in bits, to make its way to the passengers on United 93, who have already watched four hijackers kill the pilots and take over the plane.
And as you watch, you wonder what you would do if you knew that the plane you were on was going to crash on purpose as part of some terrorist act. You wonder who you would call and what you would say in those last moments before your life ended.
You wonder if you would have the courage to do something to prevent the terrorists from succeeding in their plans, even if you knew that doing so would result in your death.
Greengrass is not interested in political sloganeering in this movie. What he does do is immerse you in the confounding reality of that day, where you couldn't quite believe what was happenening, when you were trying desperately to dig out of this tragedy some greater meaning.
This is a difficult movie to watch, precisely because it only happened five years ago. You still remember where you were and what you were doing when you learned about the attacks.
United 93 is a vivid reminder, a tale of both pain and awe-inspiring herorism.
Paul Greengrass, in almost documentary style, paints a portrait of those moments before the planes hit the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, and it is a chilling one.
What hits you is how normal everything is. You see people yapping on the phones as they wait to board the plane. And while on the plane, you see them eating, working on their laptops and talking with each other. You see the two pilots, one who hopes to see his children and wife soon and another who can't wait for an upcoming vacation.
These were people who, like many of us on Sept. 11, were going about their day, never knowing that this would be the day that they died.
And as the plane finally takes off, you also see the news of the attacks come into focus slowly. One plane and then another suddenly veer off course, and you can hear someone saying something about a hijacking, but the message is garbled.
You see the disbelief in people's eyes as they see first one plane and then another crash into the Twin Towers.
You see the news begin, in bits, to make its way to the passengers on United 93, who have already watched four hijackers kill the pilots and take over the plane.
And as you watch, you wonder what you would do if you knew that the plane you were on was going to crash on purpose as part of some terrorist act. You wonder who you would call and what you would say in those last moments before your life ended.
You wonder if you would have the courage to do something to prevent the terrorists from succeeding in their plans, even if you knew that doing so would result in your death.
Greengrass is not interested in political sloganeering in this movie. What he does do is immerse you in the confounding reality of that day, where you couldn't quite believe what was happenening, when you were trying desperately to dig out of this tragedy some greater meaning.
This is a difficult movie to watch, precisely because it only happened five years ago. You still remember where you were and what you were doing when you learned about the attacks.
United 93 is a vivid reminder, a tale of both pain and awe-inspiring herorism.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Idlewild is indeed wild
Andre 3000 and Big Boi, who make up the rap duo OutKast, have always lived up to their group name, stretching what we consider hip-hop to far-out extremes. And here's the thing: they manage to sell millions of record by predictably being unpredictable.
Which brings us to their new movie, Idlewild, a brilliant mess of a movie.
Andre is Percival, a piano player who is a mortician by day, slaving away for his dad, played by an underused Ben Vereen. Big Boi plays his friend, Rooster, who spends his nights running "Church," the local jukejoint, cheating on his wife and drinking way too much hooch.
Into all this enters Trumpy played by the always mesmerizing and menacing Terrence Howard (a friend wondered how he is so good at playing bad) who is the film's villain.
Percival and Rooster now have to figure out how to keep from getting killed.
Now, all of this is set in the 1930s Prohibition era, though you may have a hard time believing that with all the rapping Big Boi does in the movie. Yes, there's rapping but again what else would you expect from an OutKast movie.
Horns blast, Big Boi raps, Andre gets drenched in rain and men and women jitterbug all over the place. And somehow, this movie works, with visual treats provided by first-time movie director Bryan Barber, who infuses his debut with all the tricks of the trade he learned while making music videos.
As my friend and I walked out of the theater, we had a hard time describing exactly what we saw. But we liked it. We were never bored.
Again, what else would you expect of OutKast?
Which brings us to their new movie, Idlewild, a brilliant mess of a movie.
Andre is Percival, a piano player who is a mortician by day, slaving away for his dad, played by an underused Ben Vereen. Big Boi plays his friend, Rooster, who spends his nights running "Church," the local jukejoint, cheating on his wife and drinking way too much hooch.
Into all this enters Trumpy played by the always mesmerizing and menacing Terrence Howard (a friend wondered how he is so good at playing bad) who is the film's villain.
Percival and Rooster now have to figure out how to keep from getting killed.
Now, all of this is set in the 1930s Prohibition era, though you may have a hard time believing that with all the rapping Big Boi does in the movie. Yes, there's rapping but again what else would you expect from an OutKast movie.
Horns blast, Big Boi raps, Andre gets drenched in rain and men and women jitterbug all over the place. And somehow, this movie works, with visual treats provided by first-time movie director Bryan Barber, who infuses his debut with all the tricks of the trade he learned while making music videos.
As my friend and I walked out of the theater, we had a hard time describing exactly what we saw. But we liked it. We were never bored.
Again, what else would you expect of OutKast?
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Snakes on a Plane
Snakes on a Plane was and is one of most hyped movies ever and even better, the movie actually lives up to the hype.
Of course with a movie in which the plot is summed up perfectly in the title, how could the movie not exceed expectations.
This is not Shakespeare -- not even close.
Snakes on a Plane is good, squirm-in-your-seat fun, the kind of movie made for screaming at the sceen while eating buttery popcorn.
Samuel L. Jackson does what he does best: exude cool. He's certain to be the coolest 57-year-old in the world who is blessed with the jealousy-inducing ability to say a particular profanity with a potent eloquence, one honed by years of practice.
The movie is cheesy, no doubt, with at least one scene of gratutuitous nudity and lots of gore and sight gags.
Yet, the movie works, mixing in humor with suspense.
And judging by the audience I saw the movie with recently, the fans loved every minute of the movie. They cheered when Samuel Jackson said that line everyone had waited with baited breath throughouth the movie: I've had enough of these mother(bleep) snakes on this mother(bleep) plane. That line, thanks to the power of the Internet, has become a cult classic long before the movie even came out.
Is this the future of moviemaking, where fans have the power to shape a movie? Don't know. But Snakes on a Plane works and it works well.
Of course with a movie in which the plot is summed up perfectly in the title, how could the movie not exceed expectations.
This is not Shakespeare -- not even close.
Snakes on a Plane is good, squirm-in-your-seat fun, the kind of movie made for screaming at the sceen while eating buttery popcorn.
Samuel L. Jackson does what he does best: exude cool. He's certain to be the coolest 57-year-old in the world who is blessed with the jealousy-inducing ability to say a particular profanity with a potent eloquence, one honed by years of practice.
The movie is cheesy, no doubt, with at least one scene of gratutuitous nudity and lots of gore and sight gags.
Yet, the movie works, mixing in humor with suspense.
And judging by the audience I saw the movie with recently, the fans loved every minute of the movie. They cheered when Samuel Jackson said that line everyone had waited with baited breath throughouth the movie: I've had enough of these mother(bleep) snakes on this mother(bleep) plane. That line, thanks to the power of the Internet, has become a cult classic long before the movie even came out.
Is this the future of moviemaking, where fans have the power to shape a movie? Don't know. But Snakes on a Plane works and it works well.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Descending into Vice
Miami Vice, the series, epitomized style. You may not remember the story lines but the pastel suits that Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas wore on this 1980s series were unforgettable.
Thankfully, Michael Mann, the mind behind that series, decided to do something too many directors don't do: He went about as far from remaking the series for the big screen as he could.
The movie of the same name might bear some outlines of similarity but that's about it.
Instead, Mann has created a dark world in which good and evil blur, where doing your job and living your life has little to separate them from each other.
A few critics have blasted the movie, but I found myself drawn into the world Mann is creating here.
Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx don't do much here, and you wish Naomie Harris, so good in Pirates of the Carribbean: Dead Man's Chest, had more time on screen. But the minimalism works, and the action set pieces have the power and the ability to shock you out of your senses.
And the mix of music and gorgeous cinematography puts you into the queasy underbelly of undercover police work, the compromises and sacrifices you make to get the job done.
It is a compelling piece of work, one I want to revisit soon.
And then there's The Descent, your basic horror flick. But it is also something more, thank goodness.
Here, we follow six women into the mountains after one has suffered a tragic loss. They go spelunking into the caves and find themselves trapped, squeezing themselves through small passageways as they look for a way out.
One by one, they fall victim to blind flesh-eating monsters.
Yet, as the movie slowly sets up in the beginning, the women are victim to much more than monsters. They have little pent-up demons of their own, secrets they have that will devastate them more than the monsters will.
And the slow beginning sets up for a psychologically tense finale, one you don't often seen in slasher flicks such as this.
What a sweet surprise.
Thankfully, Michael Mann, the mind behind that series, decided to do something too many directors don't do: He went about as far from remaking the series for the big screen as he could.
The movie of the same name might bear some outlines of similarity but that's about it.
Instead, Mann has created a dark world in which good and evil blur, where doing your job and living your life has little to separate them from each other.
A few critics have blasted the movie, but I found myself drawn into the world Mann is creating here.
Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx don't do much here, and you wish Naomie Harris, so good in Pirates of the Carribbean: Dead Man's Chest, had more time on screen. But the minimalism works, and the action set pieces have the power and the ability to shock you out of your senses.
And the mix of music and gorgeous cinematography puts you into the queasy underbelly of undercover police work, the compromises and sacrifices you make to get the job done.
It is a compelling piece of work, one I want to revisit soon.
And then there's The Descent, your basic horror flick. But it is also something more, thank goodness.
Here, we follow six women into the mountains after one has suffered a tragic loss. They go spelunking into the caves and find themselves trapped, squeezing themselves through small passageways as they look for a way out.
One by one, they fall victim to blind flesh-eating monsters.
Yet, as the movie slowly sets up in the beginning, the women are victim to much more than monsters. They have little pent-up demons of their own, secrets they have that will devastate them more than the monsters will.
And the slow beginning sets up for a psychologically tense finale, one you don't often seen in slasher flicks such as this.
What a sweet surprise.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Lady in the Water
M. Night Shyamalan is mystique personified, or at least that is what the acclaimed director sees himself as. His first major movie, The Sixth Sense, was a near masterpiece with one mind-bogging twist of an ending. And his second film, Unbreakable, contained a quiet, controlled beauty that revealed a director who had confidence in the narrative and didn't resort to little tricks of the Hollywood blockbuster trade.
This was a director who had vision and stuck stubbornly close to that vision at whatever costs. He never felt the need to condescend to his audience, who he felt was intelligent enough to get what he was trying to convey.
But soon, as Signs and The Village showed, Night became a slave to convention, even if he told himself he wasn't. Audiences came expecting the twist, and his latter movies lost a little bit of that magic found in his first.
He tries to capture some of that magic back with his latest offering, Lady in the Water, a movie based on a bedtime story he told his children.
Thankfully, there's no twist here, even if you do find yourself out of habit waiting for one.
But the problem this movie has is Night is trying to be too fanciful, too trusting in his audience to simply suspend belief.
In this movie, Paul Giamatti, who is always a dependable character actor, plays a superintendent of an apartment complex who finds a young woman swimming nude in the apartment pool. Turns out the woman, played by Bryce Dallas Howard, is a narf from the Blue World who has come to find a writer, who happens to be played by the director in the largest role he has carved out for himself in one of his movies. This writer is composing something that has the potential to change the world.
That's pretty heady stuff, right? And guess what, Giamatti's character and everyone else buys the whole story by Story, the name of the narf.
This is a little too easy, because even though there have always been supernatural elements in Night's movies, Night has always made way for some of that natural skepticism to creep in before the audience gives over to believing the unbelievable.
Not this time. We're expected to take the big leap of faith in the whole story, and though this is a fairy tale, there's no grounding for the audience.
The characters are barely fleshed out, though Giamatti does give a powerful performance. Howard hardly says a word; she just stares with those big beautiful eyes of hers as if that's acting.
Night doesn't give the audience anything to invest in, so we just don't care.
He does, however, gives us some good scares (those scrunts are just darn creepy with those red eyes and gnashing teeth), and there is a nice scene with the film critic played by Bob Balaban.
Yet, in the end, the movie just didn't deliver. It didn't move me; it didn't make me feel anything, not like that last scene in The Sixth Sense, with Haley Joel Osment and Toni Collette, where I admittedly choked up just a bit.
Instead, I left the movie theater hoping that Night comes back with something a lot better than this tepid fairy tale.
This was a director who had vision and stuck stubbornly close to that vision at whatever costs. He never felt the need to condescend to his audience, who he felt was intelligent enough to get what he was trying to convey.
But soon, as Signs and The Village showed, Night became a slave to convention, even if he told himself he wasn't. Audiences came expecting the twist, and his latter movies lost a little bit of that magic found in his first.
He tries to capture some of that magic back with his latest offering, Lady in the Water, a movie based on a bedtime story he told his children.
Thankfully, there's no twist here, even if you do find yourself out of habit waiting for one.
But the problem this movie has is Night is trying to be too fanciful, too trusting in his audience to simply suspend belief.
In this movie, Paul Giamatti, who is always a dependable character actor, plays a superintendent of an apartment complex who finds a young woman swimming nude in the apartment pool. Turns out the woman, played by Bryce Dallas Howard, is a narf from the Blue World who has come to find a writer, who happens to be played by the director in the largest role he has carved out for himself in one of his movies. This writer is composing something that has the potential to change the world.
That's pretty heady stuff, right? And guess what, Giamatti's character and everyone else buys the whole story by Story, the name of the narf.
This is a little too easy, because even though there have always been supernatural elements in Night's movies, Night has always made way for some of that natural skepticism to creep in before the audience gives over to believing the unbelievable.
Not this time. We're expected to take the big leap of faith in the whole story, and though this is a fairy tale, there's no grounding for the audience.
The characters are barely fleshed out, though Giamatti does give a powerful performance. Howard hardly says a word; she just stares with those big beautiful eyes of hers as if that's acting.
Night doesn't give the audience anything to invest in, so we just don't care.
He does, however, gives us some good scares (those scrunts are just darn creepy with those red eyes and gnashing teeth), and there is a nice scene with the film critic played by Bob Balaban.
Yet, in the end, the movie just didn't deliver. It didn't move me; it didn't make me feel anything, not like that last scene in The Sixth Sense, with Haley Joel Osment and Toni Collette, where I admittedly choked up just a bit.
Instead, I left the movie theater hoping that Night comes back with something a lot better than this tepid fairy tale.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Pirates of the Caribbean
The sole reason a female co-worker wanted to see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest was Johnny Depp. She wanted to wallow in the sheer irresistable hotness of Depp.
Now, I may not share in her drooling admiration of Johnny Depp but I will say this: The only reason to see this over-the-top sequel is to witness the nutty and brilliant performance of Mr. Depp, an actor known for his odd but critically acclaimed choices.
Many a critic has made note that Depp is not one to star in such an obvious summer blockbuster as this movie, with eye-popping special effects, swashbuckling action and the photogenic Orlando Bloom and the stunning Keira Knightley.
No, Depp has always zigged while others have zagged. And this movie, as surprising a move as it may appear, may be Depp's own way of zigging.
His performance is an uncompromising one. He switches with a feminine swagger and speaks with a drunken slur, his eyes a little crazed and a little sane all at the same time.
And it is his performance that saves this sequel from totally sucking, for whenever Depp is on the screen, the movie feels a bit fresher than the cog in the Hollywood machine that it really is.
That's truly an achievement.
And let's be honest. It's nice to see Depp kick loose and have fun as Jack Sparrow, throwing all notions of what a pirate should or should not be out of the proverbial window.
Okay, I'll say it. Johnny Depp is pretty hot.
Now, I may not share in her drooling admiration of Johnny Depp but I will say this: The only reason to see this over-the-top sequel is to witness the nutty and brilliant performance of Mr. Depp, an actor known for his odd but critically acclaimed choices.
Many a critic has made note that Depp is not one to star in such an obvious summer blockbuster as this movie, with eye-popping special effects, swashbuckling action and the photogenic Orlando Bloom and the stunning Keira Knightley.
No, Depp has always zigged while others have zagged. And this movie, as surprising a move as it may appear, may be Depp's own way of zigging.
His performance is an uncompromising one. He switches with a feminine swagger and speaks with a drunken slur, his eyes a little crazed and a little sane all at the same time.
And it is his performance that saves this sequel from totally sucking, for whenever Depp is on the screen, the movie feels a bit fresher than the cog in the Hollywood machine that it really is.
That's truly an achievement.
And let's be honest. It's nice to see Depp kick loose and have fun as Jack Sparrow, throwing all notions of what a pirate should or should not be out of the proverbial window.
Okay, I'll say it. Johnny Depp is pretty hot.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Superman Returns
For me, Christopher Reeve will always be Superman, his chest bearing the "S," that nice piece of curly hair fronting his forehead.
But more than 20 years later, Brandon Routh wears the blue and red suit, flying around saving the world in Superman Returns.
Routh is no Christopher Reeve, and you miss the chemistry Reeve had with Margot Kidder, who played Lois Lane.
But Routh and Kate Bosworth, who has taken over as Lane, has none of the flirty fun Reeve and Kidder had in the original.
However, that's more than made up for in the eye-popping special effects and the bravura performance by Kevin Spacey, who portrays villain Lex Luthor.
This Lex Luthor is darker, more maniacal than the one Gene Hackman played. Luthor still has wit, but Spacey gives Luthor an edge, a cruel streak that is oblivious to having a conscience.
In a sense this is a movie that overall is darker, stripped away from the innocence of the 1978 version. We are not innocents anymore in a post-911 America, and the story picks up where Superman II left off, with the caped crusader disappearing for five years and returning to find Lois Lane with a five-year-old son and a fiancee who has won a Pulitzer for an editorial entitled "Why The World Doesn't Need Superman."
Here, the Superman as Christ-figure motif is impossible to miss, from the late Marlon Brando as Jor-El speaking of sending his son to save mankind to the crucifixion-like beating he gets near the end by Luthor's goons after he has been exposed to Kryptonite.
Sometimes, Bryan Singer, the director, lays that Christ symbolism on too thick, and the movie suffers for it, sucking the fun out of what Superman has always been.
And the movie is way too long for your typical action blockbuster, as if Singer doesn't know when to end.
But somehow, despite those flaws, you get caught up in the Superman saves the world wonder of it all, and you can see why people might want Superman to return...for real.
But more than 20 years later, Brandon Routh wears the blue and red suit, flying around saving the world in Superman Returns.
Routh is no Christopher Reeve, and you miss the chemistry Reeve had with Margot Kidder, who played Lois Lane.
But Routh and Kate Bosworth, who has taken over as Lane, has none of the flirty fun Reeve and Kidder had in the original.
However, that's more than made up for in the eye-popping special effects and the bravura performance by Kevin Spacey, who portrays villain Lex Luthor.
This Lex Luthor is darker, more maniacal than the one Gene Hackman played. Luthor still has wit, but Spacey gives Luthor an edge, a cruel streak that is oblivious to having a conscience.
In a sense this is a movie that overall is darker, stripped away from the innocence of the 1978 version. We are not innocents anymore in a post-911 America, and the story picks up where Superman II left off, with the caped crusader disappearing for five years and returning to find Lois Lane with a five-year-old son and a fiancee who has won a Pulitzer for an editorial entitled "Why The World Doesn't Need Superman."
Here, the Superman as Christ-figure motif is impossible to miss, from the late Marlon Brando as Jor-El speaking of sending his son to save mankind to the crucifixion-like beating he gets near the end by Luthor's goons after he has been exposed to Kryptonite.
Sometimes, Bryan Singer, the director, lays that Christ symbolism on too thick, and the movie suffers for it, sucking the fun out of what Superman has always been.
And the movie is way too long for your typical action blockbuster, as if Singer doesn't know when to end.
But somehow, despite those flaws, you get caught up in the Superman saves the world wonder of it all, and you can see why people might want Superman to return...for real.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Do The Right Thing
Most films don't matter much beyond the first viewing. Instead, they begin to fade soon after the ending credits start.
But two films I saw this past weekend are as relevant today as they were when they opened more than a decade ago: Do The Right Thing and Boyz In Da Hood.
Both established the careers, resepectively, of Spike Lee and John Singleton. Singleton earned Oscar nominations for best director and best original screenplay, notable achievements considering Singleton was in his early '20s when the movie came out in 1991.
And no one ignored Lee's third film, Do The Right Thing, a searing exploration into race relations on a sweaty-hot summer day on a street corner in Bed-Stuy.
Each movie was a well-textured look at an aspect of black life full of unforgettable characters and poignant moments. Each also was a launching pad for a number of actors: Samuel L. Jackson, Martin Lawrence, Giancarlo Esposito, Laurence Fishburne, Angela Bassett, Cuba Gooding Jr., Morris Chestnutt, Nia Long and of course, Ice Cube.
To see the trajectory of these people's career since these movies reveals what the eye for talent Singleton and Lee had.
Even more important, Lee and Singleton made Hollywood take notice and widened the doors for black people in the movie business.
But two films I saw this past weekend are as relevant today as they were when they opened more than a decade ago: Do The Right Thing and Boyz In Da Hood.
Both established the careers, resepectively, of Spike Lee and John Singleton. Singleton earned Oscar nominations for best director and best original screenplay, notable achievements considering Singleton was in his early '20s when the movie came out in 1991.
And no one ignored Lee's third film, Do The Right Thing, a searing exploration into race relations on a sweaty-hot summer day on a street corner in Bed-Stuy.
Each movie was a well-textured look at an aspect of black life full of unforgettable characters and poignant moments. Each also was a launching pad for a number of actors: Samuel L. Jackson, Martin Lawrence, Giancarlo Esposito, Laurence Fishburne, Angela Bassett, Cuba Gooding Jr., Morris Chestnutt, Nia Long and of course, Ice Cube.
To see the trajectory of these people's career since these movies reveals what the eye for talent Singleton and Lee had.
Even more important, Lee and Singleton made Hollywood take notice and widened the doors for black people in the movie business.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
The Break-Up
Hate the romantic comedy where boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boys gets on his knees and begs for girl's forgiveness, and boy and girl kiss at the end?
The Break-Up, thankfully, isn't that romantic comedy.
And for a movie that centers on the aftermath of a couple ending their relationship, there's not much romance.
This might not be an easy date movie. The chemistry between Jennifer Anniston and Vince Vaughn is there. The movie is funny most of the times. But it is also unbearably painful.
No one likes to see two good people spend most of their time yelling at each other or doing awfully hurtful things to each other.
Here you laugh to keep from crying because oh boy, Jennifer Anniston and Vince Vaughn declare war, with Jennifer walking around nude as a way of getting Vince back, and Vince acting like a man and pretending he doesn't care.
Yes, it is juvenile, but sometimes, love, or the loss of it, causes us to revert back to children. We forget how to be mature because we don't want to be mature. We're just mad because so and so doesn't want to be with us anymore.
This is what this movie explores in a fairly realistic way. There's no magic moment at the end where all is forgiven because life doesn't work that way.
Sometimes, a relationship is too broken to repair, and this movie is not just about the pain of losing someone you love; it's also about the strength it takes to truly walk away and let go.
Yeah, breaking up is hard to do.
The Break-Up, thankfully, isn't that romantic comedy.
And for a movie that centers on the aftermath of a couple ending their relationship, there's not much romance.
This might not be an easy date movie. The chemistry between Jennifer Anniston and Vince Vaughn is there. The movie is funny most of the times. But it is also unbearably painful.
No one likes to see two good people spend most of their time yelling at each other or doing awfully hurtful things to each other.
Here you laugh to keep from crying because oh boy, Jennifer Anniston and Vince Vaughn declare war, with Jennifer walking around nude as a way of getting Vince back, and Vince acting like a man and pretending he doesn't care.
Yes, it is juvenile, but sometimes, love, or the loss of it, causes us to revert back to children. We forget how to be mature because we don't want to be mature. We're just mad because so and so doesn't want to be with us anymore.
This is what this movie explores in a fairly realistic way. There's no magic moment at the end where all is forgiven because life doesn't work that way.
Sometimes, a relationship is too broken to repair, and this movie is not just about the pain of losing someone you love; it's also about the strength it takes to truly walk away and let go.
Yeah, breaking up is hard to do.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
The Last Stand
The first movie my friend, Camille, and I saw was X-Men, so it was only fitting that we see X-Men 3: The Last Stand.
As we nestled in our seats, we ate buttery popcorn flavored by multi-colored M&M's. My friend has done this for years but, this was a taste adventure for me, one well worth having.
The movie: I gave it three stars out of four. I had worried that Brett "Rush Hour" Ratner would ruin this franchise. Bryan Singer had done such a good job with the first and second one that I didn't want Ratner to mess things up.
And to my pleasant surprise, Ratner didn't.
All your favorite characters are here: Wolverine, Jean Gray, Charles Xavier and Magneto (played deliciously by Ian MacKellan).
In this film, a mutant "cure" is introduced. So mutants have the choice of whether to keep their powers and continue to be discriminated against or lose their powers and live normal. As in the previous movies, this one raises some questions applicable to debates swirling around now on issues such as race and homosexuality.
Magneto, a Holocaust survivor, sees the cure as a way to exterminate mutants and rallies other mutants against it.
But there are some who more than think about it. Rogue, who has the power to absorb the life force out of anyone she touches, is one of them. After all, she can't make out with her boyfriend, and to be a teenage girl who can't get it on with her man has to be a real bummer.
Also, Jean Gray, who supposedly died in the last film, is back, only this time she's as nice. In fact, she can be downright destructive when her "Phoenix" personality takes over.
The action is cool and much more violent than the last two. And the film is darker, with some major characters getting killed off (you'll have to see the movie to find out).
Afterward, my friend and I debated whether this would really be the last stand. Considering how well the movie did at the box office and how Hollywood operates, I doubt it. I'm sure plans are being made for an X-Men 4, 5 and 6 in the near future.
As we nestled in our seats, we ate buttery popcorn flavored by multi-colored M&M's. My friend has done this for years but, this was a taste adventure for me, one well worth having.
The movie: I gave it three stars out of four. I had worried that Brett "Rush Hour" Ratner would ruin this franchise. Bryan Singer had done such a good job with the first and second one that I didn't want Ratner to mess things up.
And to my pleasant surprise, Ratner didn't.
All your favorite characters are here: Wolverine, Jean Gray, Charles Xavier and Magneto (played deliciously by Ian MacKellan).
In this film, a mutant "cure" is introduced. So mutants have the choice of whether to keep their powers and continue to be discriminated against or lose their powers and live normal. As in the previous movies, this one raises some questions applicable to debates swirling around now on issues such as race and homosexuality.
Magneto, a Holocaust survivor, sees the cure as a way to exterminate mutants and rallies other mutants against it.
But there are some who more than think about it. Rogue, who has the power to absorb the life force out of anyone she touches, is one of them. After all, she can't make out with her boyfriend, and to be a teenage girl who can't get it on with her man has to be a real bummer.
Also, Jean Gray, who supposedly died in the last film, is back, only this time she's as nice. In fact, she can be downright destructive when her "Phoenix" personality takes over.
The action is cool and much more violent than the last two. And the film is darker, with some major characters getting killed off (you'll have to see the movie to find out).
Afterward, my friend and I debated whether this would really be the last stand. Considering how well the movie did at the box office and how Hollywood operates, I doubt it. I'm sure plans are being made for an X-Men 4, 5 and 6 in the near future.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Tsotsi
With a friend, I ventured to see Tsotsi, not quite knowing what to expect. The movie, based on a novel by Athol Fugard, won an Oscar, and I had heard good things about Fugard from my friend, who had recently seen a play of his.
What I saw was a textured film about a young man finding humanity within himself and within others.
Tsotsi means thug, and in the film, the name is tied to a young man growing up in South Africa.
He roams the streets with a group of young men. Their existence is bleak and their moral code is corrupt. Their mode of survival is from taking, often brutally, from others.
That fact is established quickly in the first few minutes of the movie as we witness a simple mugging turn violent and bloody.
Then in a later scene, we see Tsotsi shoot a woman and steal her car. At that point, I wasn't sure whether I would ever sympathize with Tsotsi. I feared him to be a monster.
But behind even monsters is a human being, and slowly, Tsotsi's past of abandonment becomes clear. No one truly cared about him so he learned not to care about anyone else.
His world is changed, however, when he discovers that the backseat of the car he stole is not empty. It contains an infant. He ends up taking the infant home, struggling to figure out how to take care of someone so small.
His burgeoning relationship with the child transforms him. He begins to care. He begins to see another way.
And before you know it, you become invested in Tsotsi. You start to root for him to do the right thing, to be the man he was never taught to be.
The ending is a mixture of hope and bleakness, as is the rest of the movie. You don't quite know what might happen to Tsotsi after this experience. All you know is that he is not the same person you met at the beginning, and maybe there's hope in that.
What I saw was a textured film about a young man finding humanity within himself and within others.
Tsotsi means thug, and in the film, the name is tied to a young man growing up in South Africa.
He roams the streets with a group of young men. Their existence is bleak and their moral code is corrupt. Their mode of survival is from taking, often brutally, from others.
That fact is established quickly in the first few minutes of the movie as we witness a simple mugging turn violent and bloody.
Then in a later scene, we see Tsotsi shoot a woman and steal her car. At that point, I wasn't sure whether I would ever sympathize with Tsotsi. I feared him to be a monster.
But behind even monsters is a human being, and slowly, Tsotsi's past of abandonment becomes clear. No one truly cared about him so he learned not to care about anyone else.
His world is changed, however, when he discovers that the backseat of the car he stole is not empty. It contains an infant. He ends up taking the infant home, struggling to figure out how to take care of someone so small.
His burgeoning relationship with the child transforms him. He begins to care. He begins to see another way.
And before you know it, you become invested in Tsotsi. You start to root for him to do the right thing, to be the man he was never taught to be.
The ending is a mixture of hope and bleakness, as is the rest of the movie. You don't quite know what might happen to Tsotsi after this experience. All you know is that he is not the same person you met at the beginning, and maybe there's hope in that.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Tom Cruise: Mission Impossible Action Star
Tom Cruise isn't getting much love lately. He deserves it. From public spats with Matt Lauer and Brooke Shields to his overexposed love affair with Katie Holmes, Cruise has had a rocky ride with his fans the past year.
And the opening box-office take for Mission Impossible III doesn't bode well for his future movie star career.
So when I saw the movie recently, I had low expectations for how good the movie is. How pleased I was to find that during the course of the two-hour plus movie, I forgot about TomKat.
That is not necessarily due to Cruise. J.J. Abrams, creator of Alias and Lost, layers the non-stop action with some emotion. This movie felt more visceral and personal than the previous incarnations of Mission Impossible.
Granted, the story is a little cliched. Good guy's woman is in peril.
But, here's the thing. The set-up works.
With so many frenetic action sequences intermingled with lovey-dovey kiss-kiss scenes between Ethan Hunt and his beautiful girlfriend, you don't have much time to think about Tom Cruise and his troubled year.
Even more wonderful is the presence of Laurence Fishburne as the head guy. He's smart, menacing, the kind of guy you don't want to mess with. The dialogue is sharp and witty, and the pacing now slacks.
So, in a sense, the real mission impossible, forgetting Tom Cruise, ends up being accomplished in a very winning way.
And the opening box-office take for Mission Impossible III doesn't bode well for his future movie star career.
So when I saw the movie recently, I had low expectations for how good the movie is. How pleased I was to find that during the course of the two-hour plus movie, I forgot about TomKat.
That is not necessarily due to Cruise. J.J. Abrams, creator of Alias and Lost, layers the non-stop action with some emotion. This movie felt more visceral and personal than the previous incarnations of Mission Impossible.
Granted, the story is a little cliched. Good guy's woman is in peril.
But, here's the thing. The set-up works.
With so many frenetic action sequences intermingled with lovey-dovey kiss-kiss scenes between Ethan Hunt and his beautiful girlfriend, you don't have much time to think about Tom Cruise and his troubled year.
Even more wonderful is the presence of Laurence Fishburne as the head guy. He's smart, menacing, the kind of guy you don't want to mess with. The dialogue is sharp and witty, and the pacing now slacks.
So, in a sense, the real mission impossible, forgetting Tom Cruise, ends up being accomplished in a very winning way.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
United 93
9/11 was barely five years ago, but here we have United 93.
I haven't seen it. There are movies where you have to be in the right mood to see it.
Or maybe that's an excuse not to go through the emotions that will likely come from watching it.
United 93 is not going to be one of those romantic comedies where the two love birds kiss at the end.
In this movie, the heroes and the villains die at the end because that's what happened in real life when flight United 93 crashed in Pennsylvania.
I wonder how long you wait until you dramatize a tragic event such as 9/11 on the big screen. Is this too soon, or is it just the right time, if you approach everything with a seriousness and respect.
I feel I have to see this movie. I just wonder if I will get anything beyond the sadness organically comes from seeing the worst day in our country's history on the movie screen.
I haven't seen it. There are movies where you have to be in the right mood to see it.
Or maybe that's an excuse not to go through the emotions that will likely come from watching it.
United 93 is not going to be one of those romantic comedies where the two love birds kiss at the end.
In this movie, the heroes and the villains die at the end because that's what happened in real life when flight United 93 crashed in Pennsylvania.
I wonder how long you wait until you dramatize a tragic event such as 9/11 on the big screen. Is this too soon, or is it just the right time, if you approach everything with a seriousness and respect.
I feel I have to see this movie. I just wonder if I will get anything beyond the sadness organically comes from seeing the worst day in our country's history on the movie screen.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Akeelah and the Bee
This movie, Akeelah and the Bee, is a must-see.
Not just because Laurence Fishburne and Angela Bassett are in the movie, though that could be reason enough.
It's because this simple tale of a young black girl competing in the National Spelling Bee is a wonderfully different slice of black life than what we are used to seeing on the screen.
Rare is the movie in which the protagonist is a smart black girl. Her struggle and what I would presume eventual triumph are the core of this picture.
I haven't seen this movie yet, but what makes it compelling for me is that it appears that the movie recognizes that black life is richly complex and full of nuance.
The problem with movies about the lives of black people is the frustrating narrowness in which Hollywood sees us. We're either good or bad, black or white (metaphorically speaking).
But the truth is that we are human, that we come against not only the subtle pressures of race but also the every day pains of living life.
We are more than what Hollywood says we are, more than what some of us say we are (i.e. Soul Plane).
Movies such as Akeelah and the Bee and Eve's Bayou reveal that black people aren't here just to make white people laugh. And the problem with movies such as Soul Plane is that there aren't enough movies like Akeelah and the Bee to balance things out, to show the full range of black life in all its different forms and features.
The truth is we are flesh, and I want to see more of that flesh on screen.
Not just because Laurence Fishburne and Angela Bassett are in the movie, though that could be reason enough.
It's because this simple tale of a young black girl competing in the National Spelling Bee is a wonderfully different slice of black life than what we are used to seeing on the screen.
Rare is the movie in which the protagonist is a smart black girl. Her struggle and what I would presume eventual triumph are the core of this picture.
I haven't seen this movie yet, but what makes it compelling for me is that it appears that the movie recognizes that black life is richly complex and full of nuance.
The problem with movies about the lives of black people is the frustrating narrowness in which Hollywood sees us. We're either good or bad, black or white (metaphorically speaking).
But the truth is that we are human, that we come against not only the subtle pressures of race but also the every day pains of living life.
We are more than what Hollywood says we are, more than what some of us say we are (i.e. Soul Plane).
Movies such as Akeelah and the Bee and Eve's Bayou reveal that black people aren't here just to make white people laugh. And the problem with movies such as Soul Plane is that there aren't enough movies like Akeelah and the Bee to balance things out, to show the full range of black life in all its different forms and features.
The truth is we are flesh, and I want to see more of that flesh on screen.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
No Brokeback in Prison
This is like manna from heaven for comedians and late night talk show hosts. But seriously, if punishment is what is needed for these Massachussetts prisoners, show "Showgirls" by all means. Paul Verhoever sought to push the boundaries of how much sexual content you could throw on the screen and call it art. He ended up making a movie in which seeing Elizabeth Berkley naked became yawn-inducing. Who would have thunk?
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Sharon Stone's Basic Instinct
Sharon Stone's most famous performance was as Catherine Trammell in 1992's Basic Instinct, where she played a sociopathic bisexual novelist who was handy with an icepick. And of course, there's that interrogation scene.
Now, maybe we can assume Sharon Stone's basic instinct is getting paid. Why else would she reprise her role in a trashy sequel of a movie that didn't have much going for it to begin with?
Basic Instinct 2 is better than I thought, given the low expectations I had for it.
The plot is just an excuse for Sharon Stone to romp her way through a movie. Catherine Trammell is a woman Sharon Stone was born to play: a highly intelligent woman who manipulates men through the not-so-subtle art of seduction. Her sexuality is her weapon, and she uses it with a boldness and confidence that leaves men weak and confounded.
Trammell knows her power, and she walks with a swagger that leaves men such as the psychiatrist played by David Morrissey spellbound.
Unfortunatley, long stretches of this movie drag. You wonder where the movie is going, and as much as Stone talked in interviews about how she has no problem with nudity, Stone stays clothed through much of the movie. It is as if director Michael Caton-Jones pulled back instead of diving head on into the sheer trashiness and absurdity of the material.
If there is a sequel that really didn't need to be made, it is this one. Basic Instinct was a movie for its time, and this one doesn't add anything new.
Well, there's one thing. You can say what you want about Sharon Stone but for someone who's 48, she still looks good.
Now, maybe we can assume Sharon Stone's basic instinct is getting paid. Why else would she reprise her role in a trashy sequel of a movie that didn't have much going for it to begin with?
Basic Instinct 2 is better than I thought, given the low expectations I had for it.
The plot is just an excuse for Sharon Stone to romp her way through a movie. Catherine Trammell is a woman Sharon Stone was born to play: a highly intelligent woman who manipulates men through the not-so-subtle art of seduction. Her sexuality is her weapon, and she uses it with a boldness and confidence that leaves men weak and confounded.
Trammell knows her power, and she walks with a swagger that leaves men such as the psychiatrist played by David Morrissey spellbound.
Unfortunatley, long stretches of this movie drag. You wonder where the movie is going, and as much as Stone talked in interviews about how she has no problem with nudity, Stone stays clothed through much of the movie. It is as if director Michael Caton-Jones pulled back instead of diving head on into the sheer trashiness and absurdity of the material.
If there is a sequel that really didn't need to be made, it is this one. Basic Instinct was a movie for its time, and this one doesn't add anything new.
Well, there's one thing. You can say what you want about Sharon Stone but for someone who's 48, she still looks good.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Spike is Back
"Spike is back," my friend said as the credits to Inside Man came up.
Indeed, he was.
This is one of Lee's most commercial movies in years, one about a bank robbery heist in the spirit of Sidney Lumet's Dog Day Afternoon.
But it still retails that Spike Lee edge, those little touches that Lee sprinkles throughout his movie.
The movie draws you in from the beginning when we are introduced to Dalton Russell, played by Clive Owen. Russell introduces himself and says he is pulling off the perfect bank robbery.
And from there, you spend the rest of the movie figuring out how Russell does that. Denzel Washington plays a detective facing an Internal Affairs investigation and Jodie Foster is a powerful woman who specializes in "fixing" things, in this case the bank president played by Christopher Plummer who has a secret hiding in the bank vaults.
There's a lot of waiting around in this movie, but Lee never lets the pace slacken. Instead, he shows off multi-ethnic New York, and the dialogue is sharp and funny. Seeing Denzel Washington work is a treasure in itself.
And the payoff in the end is satisfying. Your face breaks into a smile as you discover the nice treats that Inside Man offers.
Is there a message? Isn't there always one in a Spike Lee Joint? But Lee doesn't let his need to make a point get in the way of telling a good story.
As my friend said, this film comes across as the work of a veteran director, as if all the lessons he has learned over his more than two decades of work came together on this movie.
Spike Lee is back. Thank God.
Indeed, he was.
This is one of Lee's most commercial movies in years, one about a bank robbery heist in the spirit of Sidney Lumet's Dog Day Afternoon.
But it still retails that Spike Lee edge, those little touches that Lee sprinkles throughout his movie.
The movie draws you in from the beginning when we are introduced to Dalton Russell, played by Clive Owen. Russell introduces himself and says he is pulling off the perfect bank robbery.
And from there, you spend the rest of the movie figuring out how Russell does that. Denzel Washington plays a detective facing an Internal Affairs investigation and Jodie Foster is a powerful woman who specializes in "fixing" things, in this case the bank president played by Christopher Plummer who has a secret hiding in the bank vaults.
There's a lot of waiting around in this movie, but Lee never lets the pace slacken. Instead, he shows off multi-ethnic New York, and the dialogue is sharp and funny. Seeing Denzel Washington work is a treasure in itself.
And the payoff in the end is satisfying. Your face breaks into a smile as you discover the nice treats that Inside Man offers.
Is there a message? Isn't there always one in a Spike Lee Joint? But Lee doesn't let his need to make a point get in the way of telling a good story.
As my friend said, this film comes across as the work of a veteran director, as if all the lessons he has learned over his more than two decades of work came together on this movie.
Spike Lee is back. Thank God.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Take The Lead, or Just Follow
Take The Lead, which made its premiere Friday night at the RiverRun International Film Festival, is an entertaining piece of crap.
Sounds harsh for a movie that was such a crowd pleaser. But Hollywood trots this treacle every few years, the often-told tale of an idealistic teacher who goes to the inner-city school determined to inspire the students and change things for the better.
Well, I saw that movie. It was called Lean on Me, starring Morgan Freeman. And there was that other movie of whose title I can't remember that starred Michelle Pfieffer and featured that Coolio song.
What bothers me is there's a condescending "oh, those poor ghetto kids" white liberal sentiment that runs through those movies. And unfortunately, this movie suffers from it.
The characters are flat, and you never understand the motivations of Antonio Banderas' ballroom dance teacher Pierre Dulane. You just assume he decided one day he wanted to teach the waltz and the tango to a bunch of inner-city kids.
I know, this is based on a true story, and I'm sure the true story is much more interesting and complex than what's portrayed in this movie.
And that's the problem. You could figure everything out before the first credits to the movie end.
There aren't any surprises, and you hardly learn anything about Banderas' character, just that his wife died five years ago and he may possibly have had a rough life.
As for the kids, well, you have the tough but sensitive girl (played convincingly enough by YaYa, who some may remember for America's Next Top Model) and the hard-headed punk who really is trying to do the right thing.
Oh, there's also the white guy who wants to be black, and the awkward white girl from the suburb who feels more comfortable with the ghetto kids than the stuck up rich kids from her ballroom dancing class.
Now, I know this movie will make money. There's dancing. There's Antonio Banderas. But Take The Lead is simplistic and lacks soul.
Sounds harsh for a movie that was such a crowd pleaser. But Hollywood trots this treacle every few years, the often-told tale of an idealistic teacher who goes to the inner-city school determined to inspire the students and change things for the better.
Well, I saw that movie. It was called Lean on Me, starring Morgan Freeman. And there was that other movie of whose title I can't remember that starred Michelle Pfieffer and featured that Coolio song.
What bothers me is there's a condescending "oh, those poor ghetto kids" white liberal sentiment that runs through those movies. And unfortunately, this movie suffers from it.
The characters are flat, and you never understand the motivations of Antonio Banderas' ballroom dance teacher Pierre Dulane. You just assume he decided one day he wanted to teach the waltz and the tango to a bunch of inner-city kids.
I know, this is based on a true story, and I'm sure the true story is much more interesting and complex than what's portrayed in this movie.
And that's the problem. You could figure everything out before the first credits to the movie end.
There aren't any surprises, and you hardly learn anything about Banderas' character, just that his wife died five years ago and he may possibly have had a rough life.
As for the kids, well, you have the tough but sensitive girl (played convincingly enough by YaYa, who some may remember for America's Next Top Model) and the hard-headed punk who really is trying to do the right thing.
Oh, there's also the white guy who wants to be black, and the awkward white girl from the suburb who feels more comfortable with the ghetto kids than the stuck up rich kids from her ballroom dancing class.
Now, I know this movie will make money. There's dancing. There's Antonio Banderas. But Take The Lead is simplistic and lacks soul.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Pimping Ain't Easy
For the past week, the Oscar win of rap group Three 6 Mafia for its song "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" has been praised and panned. Praised because the win was a historic moment for hip-hop, the first all-black rap group to perform at the usually unhip Academy Awards and to win the golden statue.
Panned because some were embarrased that a song about pimping (i.e. the sexual exploitation of women by men) was rewarded.
Part of me did cringe when the winner was announced. Too much of mainstream rap music glorifies pimping; the music videos are filled with booty flesh and the lyrics are full of sexual boasting at the expense of women.
But another part of me was thrilled. It was a genuine surprise and an indication that hip-hop has truly entered the mainstream. The culture cannot be dismissed or ignored anymore.
That says to me a couple of things. Hip-hop has been and continues to be a powerful force in the world. And hip-hop artists have a responsibility to bring balance to the music.
See, I don't expect every song that comes out to be self-righteous and consciousness-raising. Not every rock-and-roll song is that all the time. Never has been.
What I do demand is that rap music doesn't become bogged down in monotony. Spoken-word artist Saul Williams said it best when he said he simply wants to hear something different. Enough with the ice and the women and the guns and the beef.
Rap about something real. Rap about you, not what the corporate suits think is you or what they think the public will buy.
But in the end, what Three 6 Mafia won is an award. That's all it is. Cuba Gooding Jr. won one of those golden statues for his performance in Jerry Maguire. What the hell happened to his career?
Adrien Brody won for The Pianist. You see he didn't get any nominations for his recent turn in King Kong.
Awards don't change anything. People do.
And one final thought. The song, "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp," fit the movie, Hustle & Flow. The movie is predictable, your basic Rocky formula, except that Rocky is a pimp. But Terrence Howard's performance elevated the movie a bit, made DJay human, complex and real when he could have easily turned that role into caricature.
Howard may not be a pimp in real life, but let's just say he really pimped that role, and it wasn't easy.
Panned because some were embarrased that a song about pimping (i.e. the sexual exploitation of women by men) was rewarded.
Part of me did cringe when the winner was announced. Too much of mainstream rap music glorifies pimping; the music videos are filled with booty flesh and the lyrics are full of sexual boasting at the expense of women.
But another part of me was thrilled. It was a genuine surprise and an indication that hip-hop has truly entered the mainstream. The culture cannot be dismissed or ignored anymore.
That says to me a couple of things. Hip-hop has been and continues to be a powerful force in the world. And hip-hop artists have a responsibility to bring balance to the music.
See, I don't expect every song that comes out to be self-righteous and consciousness-raising. Not every rock-and-roll song is that all the time. Never has been.
What I do demand is that rap music doesn't become bogged down in monotony. Spoken-word artist Saul Williams said it best when he said he simply wants to hear something different. Enough with the ice and the women and the guns and the beef.
Rap about something real. Rap about you, not what the corporate suits think is you or what they think the public will buy.
But in the end, what Three 6 Mafia won is an award. That's all it is. Cuba Gooding Jr. won one of those golden statues for his performance in Jerry Maguire. What the hell happened to his career?
Adrien Brody won for The Pianist. You see he didn't get any nominations for his recent turn in King Kong.
Awards don't change anything. People do.
And one final thought. The song, "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp," fit the movie, Hustle & Flow. The movie is predictable, your basic Rocky formula, except that Rocky is a pimp. But Terrence Howard's performance elevated the movie a bit, made DJay human, complex and real when he could have easily turned that role into caricature.
Howard may not be a pimp in real life, but let's just say he really pimped that role, and it wasn't easy.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Capote and Freedomland
Philip Seymour Hoffman deserves an Oscar. That was evident after seeing Capote recently.
The movie follows Truman Capote as he insinuates himself into the lives of people in a small town in Kansas to report on the brutal murder of a family of four in 1959.
Capote has a whiny voice but a big ego, and he sees his literary breakthrough in telling this sordid tale.
Hoffman shows a man who ever so slowly builds a trust between him and one of the convicted murderers over a number of years and who grows to care about him. But he never lets that get in the way of his ultimate ambition. He's using this man as a way to catapult himself into the success he has always pursued.
It's this tension between ambition and compassion that drives the movie as Hoffman peels away the layers of Capote, making you cringe in one instance and sad in another.
The performance also make Freedomland, a searing mediation on race based on the critically-acclaimed novel by Richard Price.
The book is better but the movie does a good job of getting the book's message across.
Julianne Moore plays Brenda, a mother who stumbles into a hospital with bloody hands. She says she has been carjacked. Det. Lorenzo Council, played by Samuel Jackson, waltzes in to interview her.
Only then does she allow that her 4-year-old son is in the backseat of that car.
Brenda is white. The neighborhood she says her son was kidnapped in is black.
Those facts set off a chain reaction, as the largely white police force of Gannon, a neighboring town, descends onto the predominantly black neighborhood of Armstrong.
Residents there are mistreated. Anger grows. And Council becomes increasingly doubtful about Brenda's story.
The script could have been better, but the chemistry between Jackson and Moore is palpable, and Edie Falco, as a parent of a missing child, gives a solid performance.
And the final few scenes with Moore are amazing. It's a performance that keeps your allegiances at bay, for you don't know whether to care for her or to hate her. But you always feel her. What better compliment is there?
The movie follows Truman Capote as he insinuates himself into the lives of people in a small town in Kansas to report on the brutal murder of a family of four in 1959.
Capote has a whiny voice but a big ego, and he sees his literary breakthrough in telling this sordid tale.
Hoffman shows a man who ever so slowly builds a trust between him and one of the convicted murderers over a number of years and who grows to care about him. But he never lets that get in the way of his ultimate ambition. He's using this man as a way to catapult himself into the success he has always pursued.
It's this tension between ambition and compassion that drives the movie as Hoffman peels away the layers of Capote, making you cringe in one instance and sad in another.
The performance also make Freedomland, a searing mediation on race based on the critically-acclaimed novel by Richard Price.
The book is better but the movie does a good job of getting the book's message across.
Julianne Moore plays Brenda, a mother who stumbles into a hospital with bloody hands. She says she has been carjacked. Det. Lorenzo Council, played by Samuel Jackson, waltzes in to interview her.
Only then does she allow that her 4-year-old son is in the backseat of that car.
Brenda is white. The neighborhood she says her son was kidnapped in is black.
Those facts set off a chain reaction, as the largely white police force of Gannon, a neighboring town, descends onto the predominantly black neighborhood of Armstrong.
Residents there are mistreated. Anger grows. And Council becomes increasingly doubtful about Brenda's story.
The script could have been better, but the chemistry between Jackson and Moore is palpable, and Edie Falco, as a parent of a missing child, gives a solid performance.
And the final few scenes with Moore are amazing. It's a performance that keeps your allegiances at bay, for you don't know whether to care for her or to hate her. But you always feel her. What better compliment is there?
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Something New
Today I, a 33-year-old black man, walked into a movie theater full of black women who had come to watch Sanaa Lathan fall in love with a white guy in the new movie, Something New.
Considering what a wonder Sanaa Lathan is to behold, it was tough watching her and a white guy get it on. I can say this: Simon Baker is much more handsome than Billy Bob Thorton, with whom the luscious Halle Berry got it on in "Monster's Ball."
But going beyond that superficial stuff, I found Sanaa Hamri's debut a delight to watch, a movie that celebrated love but also took into account the challenges of an interracial romance.
There's a nicely done scene in the middle of the movie in which Lathan's Kenya lashes into Baker's Brian. Brian had a hard day and he doesn't want to hear Kenya complain about the white client who cannot take her seriously because she's black.
Kenya counters that she can't take a break from being black. It's a heart-wrenching and uncomfortable scene but one that feels real.
Also real is the struggle that some single black women have in finding the so-called IBM (Ideal Black Man). One startling statistic that starts off the movie is that 42.4 percent of black women have never been married.
It is a reality that Kenya, as a successful black woman, is acutely aware of, and the introduction of Brian into her life forces her to examine her deeply-held dreams and beliefs (such as her preference for black men).
What happens when what we want in life is changed and challenged by our circumstances. What if what we want limits what we could have, ostensibly love.
The weakness in the movie, however, comes in the late introduction of the Ideal Black Man, as portrayed by Blair Underwood. It's the movie's attempt at a fair balance to show that Kenya does have viable options. But it's clear from the get-go that Blair's character is not the right man for her; Brian is.
Near the end is when the movie devolves into the predictability of romance comedies, where our hero or heroine realizes that he or she has made a horrible mistake. Kenya finally realizes that Brian is her man.
And everyone lives happily ever after.
But the journey to that cliched moment is worth taking. Chemistry, smart dialogue and an often funny and intelligent script.
Yeah, it's something new.
Considering what a wonder Sanaa Lathan is to behold, it was tough watching her and a white guy get it on. I can say this: Simon Baker is much more handsome than Billy Bob Thorton, with whom the luscious Halle Berry got it on in "Monster's Ball."
But going beyond that superficial stuff, I found Sanaa Hamri's debut a delight to watch, a movie that celebrated love but also took into account the challenges of an interracial romance.
There's a nicely done scene in the middle of the movie in which Lathan's Kenya lashes into Baker's Brian. Brian had a hard day and he doesn't want to hear Kenya complain about the white client who cannot take her seriously because she's black.
Kenya counters that she can't take a break from being black. It's a heart-wrenching and uncomfortable scene but one that feels real.
Also real is the struggle that some single black women have in finding the so-called IBM (Ideal Black Man). One startling statistic that starts off the movie is that 42.4 percent of black women have never been married.
It is a reality that Kenya, as a successful black woman, is acutely aware of, and the introduction of Brian into her life forces her to examine her deeply-held dreams and beliefs (such as her preference for black men).
What happens when what we want in life is changed and challenged by our circumstances. What if what we want limits what we could have, ostensibly love.
The weakness in the movie, however, comes in the late introduction of the Ideal Black Man, as portrayed by Blair Underwood. It's the movie's attempt at a fair balance to show that Kenya does have viable options. But it's clear from the get-go that Blair's character is not the right man for her; Brian is.
Near the end is when the movie devolves into the predictability of romance comedies, where our hero or heroine realizes that he or she has made a horrible mistake. Kenya finally realizes that Brian is her man.
And everyone lives happily ever after.
But the journey to that cliched moment is worth taking. Chemistry, smart dialogue and an often funny and intelligent script.
Yeah, it's something new.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Climbing Brokeback Mountain
Finally, I trudged up Brokeback Mountain and found I enjoyed the view.
The movie lives up to the hype. This is a film of small moments that build to emotional payoffs sprinkled throughout.
Ang Lee takes his time so you can invest in Ennis and Jack, watch as their relationship evolves over quiet mornings and cold nights in Brokeback Mountain, herding sheep.
And we see how one night of unexpected passion matures into a steel-like bond that endures their need to hide the truth of their love.
You see Ennis bowed down by pain the first time Jack leaves him, and you see his wife, played by Michelle Williams, whose bottled-up rage boils as she realizes that her husband's true love is not her.
The lush scenes of the two cowboys in Brokeback Mountain is laid out against the harsh confines of their lives with their wives and children.
And you see how their existence, where they can only steal a few weeks a year together, crushes them.
Brokeback Mountain, as critics have noted, is not self-righteous; it simply tells a story, one about two men who try to love each other in a world that does not accept them together.
This is a good movie, and to just call it a gay love story does no justice to it.
The movie lives up to the hype. This is a film of small moments that build to emotional payoffs sprinkled throughout.
Ang Lee takes his time so you can invest in Ennis and Jack, watch as their relationship evolves over quiet mornings and cold nights in Brokeback Mountain, herding sheep.
And we see how one night of unexpected passion matures into a steel-like bond that endures their need to hide the truth of their love.
You see Ennis bowed down by pain the first time Jack leaves him, and you see his wife, played by Michelle Williams, whose bottled-up rage boils as she realizes that her husband's true love is not her.
The lush scenes of the two cowboys in Brokeback Mountain is laid out against the harsh confines of their lives with their wives and children.
And you see how their existence, where they can only steal a few weeks a year together, crushes them.
Brokeback Mountain, as critics have noted, is not self-righteous; it simply tells a story, one about two men who try to love each other in a world that does not accept them together.
This is a good movie, and to just call it a gay love story does no justice to it.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Oprah flogs James Frey
Don't make Oprah mad. James Frey didn't heed the advice. Today, he looked rather sheepish.
He should. He lied. And Oprah has every reason to be angry, embarrassed, whatever.
Like I said, don't make Oprah mad. I sure wouldn't.
He should. He lied. And Oprah has every reason to be angry, embarrassed, whatever.
Like I said, don't make Oprah mad. I sure wouldn't.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
The Downfall of Flavor Flav
Flavor Flav's clock-wearing mug, his gold-encrusted teeth blaring, saved Public Enemy from being too self-righteous. He was the fun that balanced Chuck D's baritone protestations against political corruption and racism.
That was then; this is now. Flavor Flav, desperate for money, stars in The Flavor of Love, a pathetic, low-down piece of crapola reality television show that features a dozen women vying for the hype man's attention.
This is his third show, after making his debut on The Surreal Life a couple of years back.
We see women cry, actually cry, because they might not have the chance to be the one for our man, Flavor Flav, a has-been who is far from handsome and who certainly doesn't have much money. Ah, the things people do for money.
Chuck D, your friend needs help, like now.
That was then; this is now. Flavor Flav, desperate for money, stars in The Flavor of Love, a pathetic, low-down piece of crapola reality television show that features a dozen women vying for the hype man's attention.
This is his third show, after making his debut on The Surreal Life a couple of years back.
We see women cry, actually cry, because they might not have the chance to be the one for our man, Flavor Flav, a has-been who is far from handsome and who certainly doesn't have much money. Ah, the things people do for money.
Chuck D, your friend needs help, like now.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Why Straight Guys Don't Want to See Brokeback Mountain
No, I have not ventured to see Brokeback Mountain. I like to think of myself as enlightened and so I've said to myself that I won't see Brokeback Mountain because the movie has gotten too much hype. But maybe the reason is really this.
Guess I should just man up and see the movie, imagining Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger are really Jessica Alba and Halle Berry. Yep, I'm such a guy.
Guess I should just man up and see the movie, imagining Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger are really Jessica Alba and Halle Berry. Yep, I'm such a guy.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
A Million Little "Fake" Pieces
The extent of James Frey's lies in his best-selling memoir, A Million Little Pieces, is astounding.
And the response from his publisher is, well, sad and predictable.
Then again, Random House is making money so why should the higher-ups care about the truth.
But I deal with truth every day as part of my profession. And while it might be hard to get to an objective truth in a memoir, I do expect that the central facts an author lays out in his memoir are substantially accurate.
Frey, by his own admission, made up most of what's in his book. He didn't embellish.
He lied. And he's being awarded by selling more books and having the chance to see his life story told on the big screen.
Thanks to Oprah, Frey has gotten national exposure, selling his fiction as testimony designed to inspire people struggling with their own alcohol and drug addictions.
I haven't read his book, and the latest revelations make it highly unlikely that I ever will. But from what I heard, Frey spins a great story.
Too bad it's not truth.
And the response from his publisher is, well, sad and predictable.
Then again, Random House is making money so why should the higher-ups care about the truth.
But I deal with truth every day as part of my profession. And while it might be hard to get to an objective truth in a memoir, I do expect that the central facts an author lays out in his memoir are substantially accurate.
Frey, by his own admission, made up most of what's in his book. He didn't embellish.
He lied. And he's being awarded by selling more books and having the chance to see his life story told on the big screen.
Thanks to Oprah, Frey has gotten national exposure, selling his fiction as testimony designed to inspire people struggling with their own alcohol and drug addictions.
I haven't read his book, and the latest revelations make it highly unlikely that I ever will. But from what I heard, Frey spins a great story.
Too bad it's not truth.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Hostel
The movie "Hostel" is gross. Not just gross but the squirm-in-your-seat gross, the kind of gross that has you either looking away or putting your hands over your eyes.
And I loved it.
This is what a good horror/slasher movie is supposed to do.
"Hostel" starts off as a "Porky's in Amsterdam" kind of movie. We have three guys backpacking in Europe, all looking to get smashed and laid.
And when a nerdy looking guy shows them pictures of beautiful naked women who can only be found in Slovakia, they hop a train and head for what they think will be nights of debauchery.
They do. For awhile, fun is had by all.
Then, as in movies like this, something goes horribly wrong. Toes are chopped off. Heads become detached from bodies. Drills go into flesh.
Nasty stuff.
Helming this is Eli Roth, who made the cult classic Cabin Fever a few years ago. I never thought much of "Cabin Fever," but Roth blesses this movie with gorgeous cinemotography, believable acting and teeth-clenching suspense.
"Hostel" is simply put an adrenaline rush. This is a good gory mess.
And I loved it.
This is what a good horror/slasher movie is supposed to do.
"Hostel" starts off as a "Porky's in Amsterdam" kind of movie. We have three guys backpacking in Europe, all looking to get smashed and laid.
And when a nerdy looking guy shows them pictures of beautiful naked women who can only be found in Slovakia, they hop a train and head for what they think will be nights of debauchery.
They do. For awhile, fun is had by all.
Then, as in movies like this, something goes horribly wrong. Toes are chopped off. Heads become detached from bodies. Drills go into flesh.
Nasty stuff.
Helming this is Eli Roth, who made the cult classic Cabin Fever a few years ago. I never thought much of "Cabin Fever," but Roth blesses this movie with gorgeous cinemotography, believable acting and teeth-clenching suspense.
"Hostel" is simply put an adrenaline rush. This is a good gory mess.
Monday, January 02, 2006
The Ho in Hip-Hop
Sexism in hip-hop is nothing new, but as this article makes clear, some rap artists have taken misogyny to rauchier and degrading lows.
Some question whether hip-hop, a cultural movement that began in the South Bronx more than three decades ago, should take the full blame for the depiction of women, black women in particular.
After all, take a quick look at the cultural landscape. Sex sells, and exploiting women has been refined into a sick kind of art. Witness Paris Hilton splaying her half-naked wet body to sell hamburgers.
Watch Jessica Simpson in a skimpy two-piece bathing suit prancing around in a country music video to promote that Dukes of Hazzard movie.
It ain't just hip-hop. But in many ways, it is. And as a black man, I wince when I watch the images of black women in too many rap videos and songs.
And I struggle to see black women as human beings when all I see in mainstream hip-hop are parts of women, a breast here, a butt cheek there. None of those parts speak.
And for me, that speaks volumes.
Some question whether hip-hop, a cultural movement that began in the South Bronx more than three decades ago, should take the full blame for the depiction of women, black women in particular.
After all, take a quick look at the cultural landscape. Sex sells, and exploiting women has been refined into a sick kind of art. Witness Paris Hilton splaying her half-naked wet body to sell hamburgers.
Watch Jessica Simpson in a skimpy two-piece bathing suit prancing around in a country music video to promote that Dukes of Hazzard movie.
It ain't just hip-hop. But in many ways, it is. And as a black man, I wince when I watch the images of black women in too many rap videos and songs.
And I struggle to see black women as human beings when all I see in mainstream hip-hop are parts of women, a breast here, a butt cheek there. None of those parts speak.
And for me, that speaks volumes.
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