Posted on June 29, 2007
Knocked Up
Meh. It has its funny moments, but I didn’t knock my socks off. Of course, I didn’t like The 40-Year-Old Virgin either. (The verdict: B-)
Ocean’s Thirteen
The perfect throwaway sequel. Two weeks after seeing it, I can barely remember anything about the movie other than the fact that I had fun watching it. Definitely an improvement over the dismal Ocean’s Twelve. (The verdict: B+)
1408
This was a halfway decent movie — literally. The tense build-up in the first half of the film was outstanding. I was fully prepared for Room 1408 to chew John Cusack up and spit him out. The second half, however, couldn’t deliver on the promise of the first. A psychological horror flick really shouldn’t get less compelling as it develops. (The verdict: C)
Posted on June 29, 2007
Stan Lee’s ten rules for comic book movies. He forgot the most important rule: no nipples on the Batsuit.
Posted on June 28, 2007
The Top 20 Ridiculous Action Movie Moments. So, wait — you mean it wasn’t awesome when Vin Diesel snowboarded down an avalanche in xXx?
Posted on June 27, 2007
With Live Free or Die Hard out in theaters today, now seems like as good a time as any to come clean with regards to my “movie buff” credentials. In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve never actually seen any of the Die Hard movies. I haven’t consciously avoided them through the years; I just never got around to watching them.
I haven’t seen The Sixth Sense either. Maybe it’s a Bruce Willis thing. Then again, there are plenty of ridiculously popular movies out there that I’ve never seen.
Top Gun. In fact, you can throw in most of the Tom Cruise filmography — Risky Business, Cocktail, Rain Man, A Few Good Men, and Jerry Maguire. I guess I didn’t like Tom Cruise before not liking Tom Cruise was cool.
The Jurassic Park series. I tried to watch the first installment on at least three occasions, but I managed to fall asleep each time before the dinosaurs actually showed up. There were dinosaurs, right?
The Lethal Weapon series. I really don’t know anything about these films other than the fact that Danny Glover was apparently getting too old for some shit.
The Terminator and T2: Judgment Day. I saw the third one, just never the first two.
The Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, and Halloween series. My mom forbade me to watch these slasher flicks when I was a kid, and I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations hasn’t run out on that yet.
The Goonies. Everyone assures me that this movie will change my life when I finally see it. Tragically, to this day, I still have no idea what the Truffle Shuffle looks like.
Silence of the Lambs. Do I really need to see it if I’m already familiar with the whole fava beans and chianti bit?
Pretty much anything based on the work of Stephen King. This list includes, but is not limited to, Carrie, Children of the Corn, Christine, Cujo, The Green Mile, It, Misery, Pet Sematary, Salem’s Lot, The Shawshank Redemption, The Shining, The Stand, and Stand By Me. In fact, if I hadn’t seen 1408 just yesterday, I could honestly say I hadn’t seen anything based on the work of Stephen King. How weird is that?
So, with that off my chest, what notable gaps exist in your movie buff credentials?
Posted on June 26, 2007
No matter how compelling an argument I advance, my wife simply refuses to concede that an air hockey table is not only more affordable than an expensive dining room table, but also superior in just about every way possible. “Imagine when you ask me to pass the salt,” I suggest, “and it comes gliding gently across the table on a cushion of air. How is that not better than your fancy walnut-stained, polyurethane finish?” No dice.
Why do I get the feeling that my plan to substitute a Galaga arcade machine in place of the proposed china cabinet isn’t going to fare any better?
Posted on June 22, 2007
Does anyone else remember a children’s show called Daily Special that aired on Nickelodeon back in the early 1980s? The series was set in a department store and starred Jeff, a mannequin who came to life each night when someone placed an enchanted hat on his head and said the magic words “Hocus pocus alimagocus!” Other major characters included Jodie (a store display designer with a penchant for unflattering pantsuits), Muffy (a mouse who spoke in rhyme), and Sam (the dimwitted security guard). Maybe the show’s rainbowtastic intro sequence will jog your memory.
Looking back, the whole “living mannequin” thing really creeped me out as a kid (this was before Kim Cattrall took the motif mainstream in 1987’s Mannequin, after all). What disturbed me most about Today’s Special was the fact that Jeff reverted back to being a mannequin whenever he removed his hat. And believe you me, Jeff lost his hat at least once an episode! In fact, I think at least three episodes during the series’ run were devoted entirely to Jeff being turned back into a mannequin just because he politely doffed his hat to a friend. If a brown plaid hat is the only thing keeping you alive, you’d think you could remember not to do that.
I’m pretty sure Today’s Special was supposed to teach kids about sharing, friendship, and all that good stuff, but the only thing it taught me was not to trust men wearing hats. For all I know, they could be department store golems animated by some sorcerer’s dark magicks. Thanks, Nickelodeon.
Posted on June 20, 2007
The scene: My wife and I are watching television when a commercial for alphabet soup airs.
Me: Hey, do you know how many letters are in the alphabet?
Her: This is a joke, right?
Me: No, I’m totally serious! How many letters are in the alphabet?
Her: Sigh…26?
Me: Wrong! It’s 24 — because E.T. went home!
Her: What’s wrong with you?
Me: I guess I’d be angry too if I just got totally owned by some classic third-grade humor courtesy of 1983.
Her: Yes, you’re right. I was totally owned. Can we talk about something else now?
Fin
Posted on June 19, 2007
Avant-garde garage rock fans, rejoice! The new White Stripes album, Icky Thump, is out today. What better way to mark the occasion than live-blogging my first listen?
To start off on a shallow note, I love the cover shot. The ornate mariachi costumes are awesome, and Meg looks downright adorable in hers. I’m just saying…
“Icky Thump,” the title track and lead single, is up first. Man, that’s a killer riff. I wasn’t so sure about this one when I first heard it on the radio a month ago, but it’s really grown on me since. It’s not quite “Seven Nation Army,” but it’s good stuff.
By the way, I love this lyric: “White Americans, what? Nothing better to do? Why don’t you kick yourself out? You’re an immigrant too.”
Track #2 is “You Don’t Know What Love Is (You Just Do As You’re Told).” It’s a catchy country western stomp, and the lyrics carry an anti-love sentiment reminiscent of Dylan classics like “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” and “Idiot Wind.” Really, the only thing that might prevent this track from becoming one of my favorites is the fact that it vaguely reminds me of Alabama’s “If You’re Gonna Play in Texas (You Gotta Have a Fiddle in the Band).” Maybe that’s just me, though.
“300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues” takes first prize in the album’s Best Song Title competition. Bonus points for actually including the phrase in the song.
“300 M.P.H.” evokes the bluesier feel of the Stripe’s early albums, but it also highlights just how much the duo has grown musically in the past few years. It’s not as immediately appealing as the first two tracks, but “300 M.P.H.” definitely shows off the richer, more robust sound the band has developed.
A lyric that caught my ear: “There’s all kinds of redheaded women that I ain’t supposed to kiss. And it’s that color which never fails to turn me blue.”
The fourth track is “Conquest,” and Jack and Meg have just made my brain asplode. The Patti Page cover opens with a bold Tijuana Brass trumpet and follows up with campy, completely over-the-top vocals from Jack. If you’ve heard the Stripes’ cover of Burt Bacharach’s “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself,” imagine that amped up a few notches and throw in a backing mariachi band.
Seriously, this track sounds like one of those bizarre pieces of music that Quentin Tarantino digs up to stick in his movies. “Ca-onn-onn-QUEST!”
“Bone Broke” is the fifth track on Icky, and it’s a little blah. The riff gets a repetitive, and the shouted vocals don’t really reach out and grab me. Next.
Next up is “Prickly Thorn, But Sweetly Worn.” Another great song title, by the way. After a trip to Appalachia with “Little Ghost” on Get Behind Me Satan, “Prickly Thorn” ventures to the Scottish highlands for a folksy little jig — complete with bagpipes and mandolin. A little annoying with the all the li-de-li-oh-oh’s in the chorus, but gutsy nonetheless.
And now “Prickly Thorn” fades into Track #7, “St. Andrew (The Battle Is In The Air).” Is it possible to get feedback on a bagpipe? Maybe an electric bagpipe?
I think that’s Meg doing a spoken-word bit over all the noise, but she sounds like a little kid. A little kid possessed by Satan and talking backwards. Only you can understand what she’s saying, so I guess it’s not backwards. Just weird.
Okay…”St. Andrew” isn’t making it onto the iPod. I need a Tylenol.
“Little Cream Soda” is the eighth track, and the bagpipes are thankfully gone (although I can still hear them wheezing faintly in the back of my head). I dig the dark, heavy guitar riff on “Little Cream Soda,” and there’s something appealing about Jack’s spoken-word vocals puctuated by the repetition of the phrase “oh well, oh well” throughout the song. It’s a fairly standard issue White Stripes rocker, but there’s nothing wrong with that.
Track #9 is “Rag & Bone,” and I already love it after twenty seconds. The song casts Jack and Meg as junk dealers, acting out little spoken-word dialogues between verses.
Jack: “Meg, look at this place. Well, this place is a like a mansion! It’s like a mansion! Look at all this stuff!”
Jack (again): If it’s just things that you don’t want — I could use ‘em. Meg could use ‘em. We can do something with ‘em. We can make something out of ‘em. We can make some money out of ‘em, at least.”
Yep, I love “Rag & Bone.”
My initial reaction to “I’m Slowly Turning Into You,” Jack’s ode to married life and the tenth track on Icky, is that it seems a bit underwhelming (especially after the exuberant “Rag and Bone”). Not bad, just nothing outstanding.
That being said, there’s some really sweet guitar and jazz organ going on in “I’m Slowly Turning Into You.” And the lyrics are fairly clever.
The eleventh track is “A Martyr For My Love For You,” a softer number that gets a nice little groove going without ever really paying off. This far into the album, it feels like filler. That being said, filler from the White Stripes is better than the average rock band’s best material.
“Catch Hell Blues” is Track #12. It starts off slow; the vocals don’t really kick in until well over a minute into the song. Jack busts out a few tasty guitar licks as the song progresses, but again, it’s nothing terribly special. At this point, the album feels like it’s running out of steam.
The final track is “Effect & Cause,” and it’s a fun send-off — a loose, acoustic throwback to previous White Stripes album-closers like “It’s True That We Love One Another” and “Your Southern Can Is Mine.”
You’ve gotta love lyrics like, “You can’t blame a baby for her pregnant ma. And if there’s one of these unavoidable laws, it’s that you can’t take the effect and make it the cause.”
Whoa…I just realized what this song keeps reminding me of. It’s the Dukes of Hazzard theme! I really hope that doesn’t end up ruining it for me. On the bright side, it reintroduces a bit of energy to the album that was missing in the last few tracks.
My initial impression of Icky Thump is that it’s a stunning album from a band that can seemingly do no wrong at this point in their career. It’s not as immediately accessible as Elephant or Get Behind Me Satan, but it clearly represents another major step forward for the duo. Of course, if you’re a die-hard White Stripes fanatic, you already own Icky Thump and I’m preaching to the choir. However, if you’re still on the fence when it comes to Jack and Meg, why not sample a few tracks online? Icky Thump isn’t perfect, but my first listen leaves me feeling like there’s probably something for everyone here. You might want to avoid “St. Andrew (The Battle Is In The Air),” though. It’s scary.
Standout tracks: “Icky Thump,” “300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues,” and “Rag & Bone.”
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Posted on June 18, 2007
So, I was out for a stroll in my new neighborhood this evening when I happened upon a rather curious gentleman. He appeared to be in his late fifties and was dressed in black from head to toe — black suit, black dress shirt, black tie, shiny black shoes. Curiouser still, this unusual chap was carefully adjusting a pair of black leather gloves while surveying with furrowed brow a nearby house. Mind you, it’s nearly 90 degrees outside. Yet, Mr. All-in-Black is wearing gloves. Like he’s concerned about — oh, I don’t know — fingerprints?
Call me paranoid, but as far as I’m concerned, that whole scenario basically screams, “Hey, look at me! I’m a hitman!”
Oh, I almost forgot the best part. His dark ensemble was topped off with a black fedora. Longtime readers may recall my bitter, months-long struggle against a certain Fedora-and-Pipe Guy. It seems only reasonable to assume that the two are somehow connected. Perhaps members of an secret underground fedora society? Maybe bent on world conquest? Or eliminating a certain blogger who knows too much?
The plot thickens.
Posted on June 18, 2007
The Good:
The Silver Surfer rocked my socks off. It was like this awesome character accidentally wandered into FF2 from some far better film playing a few screens away. By and large, the movie stayed true to the Surfer’s comic book origins, and the combination of Laurence Fishburne’s voice-over, Doug Jones’ movements, and the special effects team’s CGI work was just about perfect.
Speaking of special effects, FF2 looked great. As I already mentioned, the Surfer was a work of art; his somewhat “tarnished” appearance after being separated from his board was particularly impressive. Meanwhile, the CGI work on the Human Torch improved somewhat on the first film’s, and I’ve almost adjusted to the idea of the Thing as a guy in a rubber suit. Almost.
I can’t help but like Chris Evans as the Human Torch.
The film captured the unique family dynamic that separates the Fantastic Four from other Marvel supergroups like the X-Men or the Avengers. Sure, it plays out a little like a bad sitcom at times, but it’s an integral part of any adaptation of the Fantastic Four.
The Bad:
Where was the clobbering? When you have a character whose primary superpower is punching stuff, why not let him punch something? The Thing served primarily as comic relief in FF2 — a total waste of a beloved character. Just one or two swings at the Surfer or Dr. Doom would have been enough.
Ioan Gruffudd is still awful as Reed Richards. I think it’s the script as much as Gruffudd’s performance, but the film version of Mr. Fantastic comes off as a complete doofus. Even worse, he served up the worst bit of deus ex machina technobabble I’ve heard since every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation ever (”I can already feel your pulse slowing down, Reed.” “Pulse? You’re a genius, Sue! We need a tachyon pulse!”).
I understand the reasoning behind portraying Galactus as some kind of outer space tornado, but the comic geek in me really wanted a giant dude wearing a purple helmet to show up.
The Ugly:
Did someone in Marvel’s film division hand down a dictum that all future movies must include an embarrassingly bad dance scene? That’s the only reasonable explanation I can conjure up for Mr. Fantastic busting a move with a couple of nightclub floozies in FF2.
Why must the creative team subject us yet again to their truly awful rendition of Dr. Doom? Seriously, if you haven’t figured out the character yet, there’s no reason to shoehorn him into the sequel.
In a town chock full of blonde actresses, why cast a brunette as the Invisible Woman? I like Jessica Alba as much as the next guy, but her bad dye job and ridiculously blue contact lenses were downright distracting. Oh, and what was up with her bizarre eye makeup? If it weren’t for the fact that Alba wore glasses in a couple of scenes, I might really begin to question Sue Storm’s intelligence. That being said, I will admit that the oft-previewed scene of the Invisible Woman catching a crashing helicopter while wearing her wedding dress was a pretty cool visual.
Overall, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer was a mediocre movie that, with the exception of the Silver Surfer, failed to improve on the shortcomings of the first installment. Maybe if they keep flogging away at this franchise, they’ll eventually make the Fantastic Four film that the fans deserve. Until then, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a Silver Surfer spin-off.
The verdict: C-
Posted on June 15, 2007
If I were to die today — and the day is still young — I imagine my epitaph would likely read, “Here lies the author of ‘Eight Women Who Look Better Bald Than Britney.’ He really spent a lot of time on the Internet.” Touching, no?
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get cracking if I hope to achieve my childhood dream of becoming a globetrotting archaeologist/adventurer before the end of the day. Cake and ice cream for all!
(Except my enemies. You know who you are.)
Posted on June 14, 2007
“Your handwriting looks like a serial killer’s!”
– Lady at the DMV when I handed her my driver’s license application this morning
Bonus: For an added challenge, I took the vision test without the benefit of my glasses. And I passed! Suck it, corrective lenses!
Posted on June 12, 2007
By way of introduction, I’ve been asked to participate in the Pop Culture Supreme Court, a cadre of nine bloggers who have taken it upon ourselves to render verdicts on the pressing pop culture issues of our time. Our first case under consideration is whether or not Hollywood should place a moratorium on film remakes. My opinion follows. To find out the Court’s verdict and read the opinions of the other eight Justices, take a gander at the Pop Culture Supreme Court’s official blog.
Should Hollywood place a moratorium on film remakes? In other words, should filmmakers be forced to wait a certain number of years after a movie’s release before they’re allowed to remake it?
I firmly believe that such a moratorium would do little to address the actual problem we face today: putting a stop to awful, ill-conceived Hollywood remakes. I believe that the number of years that transpire between the release of a movie and its eventual remake has little or nothing to do with how well the remake turns out. Instead, the success of any film remake is the product of the skill and vision of the creative forces involved and the quality of the source material itself.
That’s not to say that remaking an earlier film is usually a good idea. MSN Movies’ list of the worst remakes of all time drives home that point rather clearly. Remaking a television show into a semi-watchable movie is even more difficult, as demonstrated in AOL Television’s list of the eleven worst movies based on TV shows.
Do terrible film remakes like 1998’s Godzilla starring Matthew Broderick (Rotten Tomatoes score: 25%), 2002’s Swept Away starring Madonna (Rotten Tomatoes score: 5%), or 1998’s Psycho starring Vince Vaughn (Rotten Tomatoes score: 37%) suggest that Hollywood should implement a mandatory waiting period between a film and its remake? No, they do not. Time is a red herring; poor filmmaking is the true culprit.
Consider Sam Raimi’s cult classic, The Evil Dead (1981). For all intents and purposes, Raimi remade this film as Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn six years later and improved on the original in almost every way imaginable. Yes, many fans still maintain that Evil Dead 2 is a sequel rather than a remake. If you ask me, though, when a director makes two movies in a row that feature the same main character going to an abandoned cabin in the woods where he battles various demonic forces with a chainsaw after someone inadvertantly unleashes them by reading from the Necronomicon, that sounds an awful lot like a remake. The point is, however, that Raimi waited only six years before remaking The Evil Dead, yet the remake turned out significantly better than the original. Consider also The Magnificent Seven, released a mere six years after Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai.
On the other hand, Peter Jackson’s King Kong was released a full 72 years after 1933’s King Kong. With a little over seven decades of turnaround between the original film and its remake, even as skilled a filmmaker as Peter Jackson was unable to create a movie that didn’t suck monkey ass. Waiting an extra ten years or even an extra fifty years isn’t the answer. Making a decent film — remake or not — is the answer.
For every regrettable remake like 2004’s Alfie or The Stepford Wives, there’s a worthwhile effort like 1991’s Cape Fear or 2001’s Ocean’s Eleven. Time, however, is not the driving force.
Therefore, Hollywood should not place a moratorium on film remakes as it would not address the actual problem of craptastic retreads of old favorites. Instead, Hollywood should consider instituting a system of harsh punishments for filmmakers who release bad remakes. I’m thinking maybe repeated forced viewings of Tim Burton’s “reimagined” Planet of the Apes and Ron Howard’s live-action version of The Grinch. Then again, that probably violates the constitutional ban on cruel and unusual punishment.
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Posted on June 11, 2007
After having spent the last few days surreptitiously pushing my swaddled laptop around the neighborhood in a baby stroller while searching for unsecured wireless signals to piggyback, my broadband connection at the new house is finally up and running. Normal posting patterns should resume tout de suite.
Posted on June 5, 2007
Expect the next few days to be fairly quiet here at Apropos of Something, as I’m busy packing up and moving all my earthly possessions (a few boxes of comic books, my computer, and a photograph of Elvis shaking hands with Richard Nixon) to our new house in The Middle of Nowhere, USA.
Posting will resume as soon as I’ve figured out how to rig up a broadband connection at the new Command Center using a couple of malnourished squirrels, a can of Pringles, and some chicken wire. In the meantime, take care!
