I feel like the Helen Hunt character, Carol the waitress,  from “As Good As It Gets” which came out the same year Titanic did.  Both Jack Nicholson and Hunt deftly swept up the Best Actor and Best Actress award against all the other awards Titanic captured.  These two actors deserved it, I’ve watched this movie maybe about ten times.  The lines in AGAIG are quick, quirky and very funny.  The one simple line I especially like is delivered by Carol to Melvin, “Pay me a compliment, Melvin.”  Then she instructs him with, “A compliment is something nice.”  I’m waiting for some word of encouragement or even a compliment from my employers about my teaching these last two years at my “former” place of employment. 

The three misfits in this hilarious comedy are probably based on real life people in New York. It would be very difficult to make up these characters and their lines from one’s imagination. First is Melvin the neurotic, but very successful novelist. Next Helen, the cash strapped waitress who is also a single mom living with her mother. Finally, Simon, the gay guy who is an artist but has hit rock bottom, he is friendless and without money to support his lifestyle.

I claim to be similar to the Helen Hunt character of Carol and as a New York city waitress, she had a service mentality. She served Melvin his daily meals. I came to Kazakhstan to serve the people and was barely paid minimum wage after paying all the expenses of airfare and housing in high priced Almaty.  As a working Mom, Carol had to take care of her ailing son.  I taught academic English courses to my Kazakh and Kazakhstani students so they would not fail their classes in their future academic career.  Carol, the waitress, was uneasy about getting involved with Melvin because he was so rude to everyone and to her.  She regained her dignity when Simon made her feel good about herself.  He drew her from an artist’s point of view because he valued her beauty as a person.  Westerners are like that, identifying the individual for the gifts and talents they possess and reveling in that.

I see Simon as personifying Western ideas, he was accustomed to a fine lifestyle of luxury and the fine art.  However, that crashed in around him when his flat was broken into by vandals and he was beaten up very badly.  I see at our place of employment there is a fair share of America bashing going on since supposedly our institution was based on an American system of education.  Discrimination against Simon and at the same time against anything American seems to be in vogue for some people at my institution of higher learning.  Some say negative things to my face about how America has done this wrong or we as Americans aren’t correct on some other policy.  What do people say about Americans behind my back?  I shudder to think.  Well, Simon loves his little dog and that’s what helps get him through his ordeal.  Incidentally, the little dog plays an important role in this movie.  I believe he should have gotten an Academy award as well for bringing Melvin and Simon together as tolerant “friends.”

However, Melvin has an evil streak coursing through his cold veins.  At the beginning of the movie, he throws Simon’s dog down the garbage chute.  No reasonable explanation is given except that he seems to hate Simon and what he stands for.  Melvin is full of paranoia and he needs therapy.  Melvin has a huge ego and is a frustrated, demanding old man but paradoxically writes novels about romance. Yet he knows nothing about love and spends his life pretending there’s nothing wrong with him. He has to have everything completely sanitized and clean and he locks many doors to his flat because of his many fears. 

Enter Carol the waitress into the picture to encourage Melvin, the twisted old novelist, to re-enter the human race of compassion. She boldly helps confront his fears about relationships head on. The rest of the movie portrays how guy meets girl and with the help of a gay, the two finally get together all the while taking baby steps. There is “give” and there is “take.”

That is why I would love to say to my former employers, who have acted like Melvin sometimes, “Pay me a compliment…a compliment is something nice.”  I guess if there were a sequel to this movie, it would be that Melvin broke up with Helen. That part makes me sad.

Now that I look at it, is Mel Gibson really what women want?

Advertising executive Nick Marshall (Mel Gibson) is as cocky as they come. But what happens to a chauvinistic guy when he can suddenly hear what women are thinking? Nick gets passed over for a promotion, but after an accident enables him to hear woman’s thoughts, he puts his new found talent to work against Darcy (Helen Hunt), his new boss, who seems to be infatuated with him.

The premise for this movie is what actually at first attracted me to the film (other than my undying love for Mel Gibson). But it takes something that all guys want to have the ability to do, and that is read what’s going on in chicks’ minds. This films uses that exact idea very well, and gives us plenty of funny moments, where we hear some hilarious but also true things that women are thinking.

The film is more silly than it is actually funny. The film reminded me a lot about another film, Tootsie. They both have the same idea that these guys who are total jerks start to understand how women feel and are. Hoffman, dressed up as a woman, and Gibson hearing woman’s thoughts. He hears these thoughts and really he isn’t the guy he thinks he is. People hate him, and don’t find him that attractive, which provided plenty of laughs along the way.

Though I thought the film was at times very funny, it did fail at many points. First, it clocks in at about 125 minutes, which is simply far too long for a film trying to make it as a breezy romantic comedy. And make no mistake, you will notice the pacing, especially after you realize you had to sit through two completely superfluous subplots and an entire five-minute scene that simply had no business making it out of the editing suite alive.

When Mel Gibson gets the ability to hear what women are thinking, why are we spending an entire sequence 30 minutes into the film watching him try to get rid of his dubious gift? We know he’s going to fail because we’ve got 90 minutes remaining to kill, and the scene’s not even funny to boot, a fact which is only hammered home repeatedly when he pulls the same gags that got him into this jam in the first place. That kind of sloppy screenwriting and editing doesn’t bode well.

It was a surprise to see Mel Gibson in his first romantic comedy role as he does very well with his material. He just show a lot of charm and is a guy that you want to hate, but can’t really cause of how likable he actually is. The women in the cast also are very good, as they speak from their minds and you can sort of see their reactions on the screen of what their saying, and it all seems very realistic.

Consensus: With some hilarious moments and a charming lead performance from Gibson, What Women Want shines in some places but is brought down by some choppy editing, meaningless sub plots, and a time limit of over 2 hours that is very unneeded.

6/10=Rental!!

In this scene, Jack makes it clear that Helen will never do any better than Hank Azaria.

I’ve made a lot of dumb bets in my life.  But way back in aught three, I made the smartest wager of my life.

In 1998, I went to Israel with a couple of friends to participate in a month long archaeological dig, which basically wound up being a month spent at the beach staring at the half-nekkid Israeli women (who were much hotter than you’d think) and the even more nekkid Israeli men (who were much hairier than you’d think humanly possible – I felt like a modern day Dian Fossey).

At the end of our hirsute tour of duty, my friends and I languished in Tel Aviv for a few days, desperately awaiting the flight that would take us back to our homeland of Walmarts and Taco Bells.  We were all beached out and exhausted, and outside of the beach Tel Aviv was basically Crystal City with a Planet Hollywood.  So we went to the movies.

For years, my dear friend – for anonymity’s sake, let’s call her the future Mrs. Janet Reno – denied what was plain fact: on consecutive days spent in a foreign city we had seen first Armageddon, and then As Good as It Gets.  Now Mrs. Reno agreed we’d seen the former (How could anyone forget Bruce Willis’ tragic sacrifice?  How could anyone forget Ben Affleck’s horrible, horrible acting?)  But for years, she stridently denied having seen the latter.  And so confident was I in 2003 that I’d seen an octogenarian Jack Nicholson attempt to hook up with a totally unappealing Helen Hunt that I made a small wager with Mrs. Reno – for 500,000 American dollars.

(Am I wrong or does Helen Hunt look like a turkey vulture that stayed up too late?  I used to work with this dude who was OBSESSED with Helen Hunt – he spent his days writing Hunt-centric fan fiction and spec scripts for Mad About You.  He had also seen Twister eighty times…  in fairness –  on the Life Goes on Spectrum he was much closer to being a Corky than a Becca.)

I knew I was right (I’ve got a mind like a steel trap, people) but I never thought I’d have proof – the other friend in attendance at our movie marathon on the Mediterranean refused to confirm or deny my supposition.  But then this week, Mrs. Reno found undeniable proof – a ticket stub in Hebrew for As Good As It Gets.

Ladies and gentleman, before you stands a wealthy, wealthy man.  Now I’m not expecting all of this money right away – in fact I’m willing to work out some sort of payment plan or barter.  Perhaps I could trade in the 500k for a mere favor – I’ll take her aside on her wedding day and say, “Some day, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me. But until that day, consider this $500,000 a gift.”   I might get her a card, too – we’ll see.

Trancers

Not really alive, not dead enough

Jarv’s rating: 3 Changs out of 4.

Now this is why I watch these films. I wade through buckets and buckets of absolute rubbish and eventually a little gem like this one crosses my path. To say this came as a relief after the soul sucking run I’ve been on is an understatement. This is a sadly overlooked minor classic and thoroughly deserves rehabilitation.

I warn anyone now: this review is spoiler heavy, because of the nature of the film.

To be honest, I’m not sure it actually qualifies as a schlock movie. It’s, like Critters (which I reviewed ages ago here), far too accomplished, and although it is funny, all the laughs in it are deliberate (more on that later). Sure, Santa Claus does transform into a zombie to be despatched, and the main character is called “Trooper Deth” not to mention that it does tie itself in knots with time travel paradoxes, but the same could be said of any film that deals with time travel- causality is a bitch. The set design, especially in the future scenes does borrow heavily from other, better, films (noticeably Blade Runner), and the “present day” set is perfectly functional. The special effects, aside from the Trancer zombie effects) are utter crap (the first reason it doesn’t get 4 Changs), there’s a few cheesy lines and a bit of a groan inducing ending (which is the other reason it doesn’t get 4 Changs) but overall it’s just a downright good film. And I don’t see many of those.

It’s the 23^rd Century. Trooper Jack Deth is a cop/ bounty hunter on the trail of Whistler, a psychic genius that can enslave the “weak minded” and turn them into twisted zombie followers. He thinks he’s killed Whistler, and is now tiredly hunting down the last remaining Trancers. He hasn’t got that many to go, when he’s pulled unceremoniously off the job to be sent “back down the line” in time. Reason being, Whistler pulled a fast one and traveled himself intending to eliminate the descendants of the high council. Trooper Deth gets given a few tools to take with him, including a watch that stops time that you can only use once (which is a shit plot device- kind of a sci-fi get out of jail free card), a returning device, a big gun, and clues as to who the descendants are.

Obviously, things aren’t that easy, it turns out that you can only time travel into the body of your descendants, Deth’s is a journalist, and Whistler’s is a high ranking cop. Carnage, comedy and shenanigans ensue, there’s an excellent showdown, and Whistler is dispatched, although at the cost of Deth staying in the past.

I’ve started to explain why this is a good film, but I’ve not really covered it properly. Basically, although this had a tiny budget, they really squeeze every last cent out of it- you absolutely can see the cash on the screen. The locations have a sleazy, dirty feel to them and they wisely stay away from special effects for the most part. When they do go to a special effect (the disintegrating dead Trancers) it is always an epic fail, with a disintegration effect straight out of Flash Gordon- which I love, but will never be a bastion of good effects. It’s a shame, but I do “get” why they had to have a disintegration of some description. Having said that, the zombie makeup is always good, and as there is a lot more of this in it than the other effects, I give it a pass.

Secondly, this film is intentionally funny. Honestly, I know I say that these types of films are hilarious, but it’s usually accidental. Trancers deftly incorporates comedy into the action and many of the jokes in it are laugh out loud funny. It’s always funny when Santa gets battered, for example, but for a comic moment that doesn’t rely on such schlocky tastes: Trooper Deth is unceremoniously returned to the future, he’s about to get lucky, when he returns it appears that his descendant has got lucky. However, he’s not sure, so he lifts the covers and has a check. I’ve not described this very well, but it hinges on the performance and the look of disappointment on Tim Thomerson’s face is spot on.

Which brings me to the acting- and it’s all superb. Why haven’t I seen Thomerson in more stuff? He’s equally adept at hard boiled dialogue and the comic touches necessary for this film. It’s a sterling performance and I could easily see him in other cop roles. Helen Hunt is also good as the love interest, although I still don’t find her attractive- and I don’t know why.

Direction is unobtrusive, the score is of it’s period but fitting, and it’s just an unflashy but effective effort all round- there’s nothing to criticise in either of those areas.

Now, because I’m always honest, I’m going to own up to the “bad” aspects of this film. Firstly, time travel is always a bitch to do properly. Terminator 2 tied the whole series in paradox knots that it’s never recovered from, but they’re mere granny knots compared to the Gordian monstrosity that they tie here: Trooper Deth is told by whistler that Helen Hunt is his own grandmother. The first reaction is “Ewwww” as it’s turned out that he’s done the proverbial Futurama style “nasty in the pasty”. As if this wasn’t headache inducing enough, Whistler is eliminating the descendants of the high council which changes the future meaning that…….. (ad infinitum). Causality: don’t fuck with it unless you either don’t give a toss or really, really know what you are doing. Secondly, Trooper Deth gets equipped with the magic watch I talked briefly about earlier. I don’t mean to nitpick, but he uses it when they are ambushed, stops time, carries Helen Hunt to the car and starts driving away- why didn’t he use it to stop time, stab Whistler in the throat with back to the future device, then move Helen Hunt out of the line of fire. He’s even got to walk past whistler to get to his car. This kind of shit is irritating. Not to mention that they use the magic watch again later, and he  still doesn’t use it to put one on Whistler.

Then there’s the ending. Did they honestly have to engineer a situation whereby Trooper Deth gets stuck in the 80’s? Really? And what about the poor bastard who’s body he inhabits? Bah, bad call, and probably the only one they made in the whole film.

Overall, would I recommend it? I’m fucking happy to say that for the first time in absolutely ages, I do. It’s great.

Trancers is a great blend of punchy action, wry comedy, and intelligent science fiction. You can spend all day spotting references in it, if you must, but personally I think that the best way to watch this film is just to sit back and enjoy the ride. It’s funny, violent, exciting stuff that is ably acted by 2 willing leads. Simply superb.

I still don’t know if it counts as schlock, though.

Jarv

Kathy Griffin has pissed off a lot of people in Hollywood for outing their addictions, marital screw-ups, crazy family members and public failures.  And in her new book Official Book Club Selection: A memoir according to Kathy Griffin, she does more of the same – but the joke is usually on her. The always vivacious and opportunity-seeking Kathy has proven that she isn’t afraid of turning the tables on the major missteps and struggles she had clawing her way up the D-list.

Book Club is written in the same hair salon conversational storytelling language that Kathy is known for in her stand-up.  The title, alone, marks the attitude Kathy has trademarked – an idea that if I label it like an Oprah Book Selection then people will buy it and Oprah will have to recognize it: $$$.

Each, shocking and bluntly titled, chapter exposes more of the comedienne’s trials – from the difficulty of growing up as an awkward, gawky girl in rural Chicago (They Barked, They Laughed) and failing miserably as a stand-up comic (To Live and Bomb in LA) to cosmetic surgery mishaps (Nip/Fucked) and a pathological husband who stole a chunk of her wallet on the way out (My Marriage Ends). Kathy prepares for full disclosure and manages to poke fun at a celebrity or two in the process. Sorry Brooke Shields and Helen Hunt – what were you expecting?

Like any performer, the quintessential talk show question is, “When did you know you wanted to be in show business?” And Kathy isn’t shy about her ravenous thirst for attention at all costs.  She spent most of her early years telling neighborhood parents about the questionable discipline in her household and how she would host late-night talk shows in her living room.

But it was The Mary Tyler Moore Show that truly inspired Kathy to think about a life in the world of entertainment as a viable future.

“I’ll never forget that awesome apartment with the big M on the wall, and how beautiful Mary was.  But when Rhoda burst through the door in her Gypsy hairscarf, billowy caftan, and hilariously abrasive delivery, I was like, ‘Who is that? Oh my God!’ That’s when I fell in love with wanting to be a sidekick.”

A sidekick.  That would set the bar, questionably low – but attainable, for the ginger gal who would go on to become one of t.v.’s memorable sitcom comic reliefs.

Despite breaking through and becoming a name in show business, Kathy has become a regular inside-outsider.  She may have an IMDB page, but her ratings are never stealer. She gets invited to the Emmy’s, but she usually has to show up for the daytime show with the less renowned awards.  She is always one velvet rope away from the “real party.”  But that’s what keeps her sharp and honest to her fans.

Kathy is unapologetic about her disdain for actresses who are comfortably seated behind the elite velvet rope, equipped with ass-kissers and bottle service.  She doesn’t hesitate that her stomach turns at the sound of actresses re-telling their hardknock sob-stories to Oprah.  That means you Jewel. And you Hilary Swank.

“Cry me a fucking river, Hilary.  You star in a Karate Kid movie at nineteen, and win two Oscars by thirty. Go fuck yourself.”

She calls these performance gods out on the carpet and reminds them that they can’t weep poverty and hard times with gusto in Ferragamo and Dior.

While her tell-all book is surprisingly light on drug addictions, unplanned pregnancy or rehabilitation centers –especially for a mainstream comedienne, her story is truly inspiring and humorous. Hopefully she is taking notes for the follow-up which could undoubtedly be titled, The Pulitzer-Prize-Winning Memoir: According to Dr. Kathy Griffin. Hint, hint.

I think my 2nd All Freakin Night truly solidified my love for Olympia.  Drinking tepid rum and cokes out of Dasini bottles while leaning forward to throw trash off a 2nd floor balcony, all the time attempting to slur out a quip at a theater screen (as loud as fucking possible), which is playing a movie about space slugs that turn people into zombies; I even turned down taking mushrooms that night.  The funny thing is that there were at least four more movies afterwards.  What I’m trying to expertly transition into is my love for Night of The Creeps.

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This is one of those movies I always saw sitting up on the rack at the local video/liquor store when I was a kid.  I’d go into the stagnant shop once a week with my Dad to rent a NES game and if I’d been good that week I could maybe get a movie too.  When my Dad would browse the “walk-in closet” sized section of ever so fine spirits (always coming out with rum) I could be found gawking at whatever creepy or crazy VHS caught my eyes.  Some of my favorites that I can still remember today are:  Dead Alive, Evil Dead 2, and Nightmare On Elm Street 3. Of course I was never allowed to rent any of these movies and probably didn’t see most of them until I was 18.  My Mom told me about seeing The Exorcist in theaters when my oldest brother Andrew was a toddler (he just turned 40).  The movie fucked with my Mom so bad that she sped home right when the end credits started to roll, convinced my brother was most likely speaking in tongues and telling the babysitter that his/her mother sucks cocks in Hell (he does love Motorhead).  Anyways, it makes sense that I wasn’t priviliged these gems as a child.

Sci-fi horror is the basis of many of my nightmares growing up.  Once Andrew blossomed into the old brother that wished to enlighten/terrify his uncultured sponge of a sibling, I found – very bluntly – the ingredients to being frightened via film.  Let’s all give a hand for John Carpenter at his cinematic raping of the senses: The Thing. Even to this day I can’t think of a movie that hucks bundles of dynamite at the caveman side of human nature as his remake did.  I know at some point in my youth Andrew threw on what would become a film that rests comfortably in my top ten favorites and I couldn’t shit right for a week.  No joke; my Dad had to sit in on all my bathroom endeavors for a bit because I was afraid of Charles Hannahan’s detached spider fuck-me-I-never-ever-wanna-see-that-thing-whether-in-real-or-fucking-Oz head.

Aliens is right there with The Thing when it comes to a movie that caused me to always run and jump on my bed when it was lights out.  How was I to know there wasn’t a facehugger under the box spring;  didn’t fuck about.  It also spawned my HATE for Paul Reiser even though I know Burke was just a character, but I don’t care.  Every time I watched Mad About You (don’t even ask me why, I don’t even know) I would stare at Reiser and think, “You lied to Ripley and so many good people were killed because of it.  I wish I could have punched you to death before that alien got you… prick.”  Guilty by association:  I hate Helen Hunt too.  Whatever, she sucks.

So when my parents would leave me home alone I’d dig through the pile of copied VHS tapes (my favorite had The Great Mouse Detective, Wayne’s World, and Addams Family on it) and usually end up with Aliens because The Thing disappeared once Andrew left for college.  Between the releases of these two sci-fi horror titans I was missing out on the teen/college equivalent:  Night of The Creeps.

Doofy college freshmen – whose best friend has polio – attempts to take out his dream girl for the formal, but of course zombie jocks/bros who are afflicted with space brain slugs derail the evening.  Solution?  A shotgun, flamethrower, revolver, lawnmower, and Tom Atkins.  I know for a fact I would have grown up to be a better person if I had this movie in my possession as a youngster.  I probably would have been nicer to people with disabilities too, but my parents insisted I play t-ball.  Thus it’s not my fault that I love Christopher Reeves jokes, but Mom and Dad’s.

Horror is the genre that I can’t get tired of and am always willing to watch.  If I wanna have trouble sleeping I’ll put on The Changeling (I’m actually a little uneasy right now just thinking about it) and keep thinking I see something just out of my peripherals.  How about bad people getting exactly what they deserve?  Then it’s Sleepaway Camp, just make sure no one spoils the ending for ya.  What keeps horror fresh is the blending of genres.  I’m trying to stay on the subject of sci-fi horror, but what makes a film watchable over and over again for me is the humor.  Re-Animator is a rare title that I could easily watch every day because it’s funny as shit.  A roommate justifies hiding a dead cat in his mini-fridge because he didn’t wish to leave a sticky note that read “cat dead, details later”.  Dr. West is a gentleman and don’t you forget it.

I’ve heard “splatter comedy” tossed around when talking about movies like Creeps, but The Return of The Living Dead was the first movie to be labeled by this sub-genre to my knowledge.  Without going off the deep end about it, they’re films that use gore and violence – not just funny dialogue – to heighten the comedic qualities as the story pans out.  To someone who isn’t big on horror it can sound perverse that laughter can come from someone being blown up, but with the right line delivered, piece of music used, or sometimes even the lack of both, humor can come spilling out in bloody abundance.

The real appeal in Creeps is writer/director Fred Dekker’s stew of a tale that involves so many aspects in cinema.  You got two buddies who are bumbling around a college campus and all they really want is some lady-loving, which leads to partying.  Apparently getting into a frat gets you laid, so just like any “sex comedy” whacky antics need to ensue; a prank.  The prank brings us to a previous flashback of the cliche 50’s that is familiar as Hell because of old throwback black and whites.  An object jettisoned from an alien craft streaks over make-out point and of course it lands nearby; it MUST be investigated.  It’s a perfect catalyst to the ridiculousness that object – a singular space slug – will cause years later.

Once bursting heads start spurting out legions of wiggly-jiggles that dart across tile floors looking for an open orifice (my God that was fun to type) we need a hero and we get one:  Tom “Thrill Me” Atkins.  His character Detective Ray Cameron easily sits alongside dudes like Reggie, Peter, and Ash at the big boy table for bad asses in horror.  He’s full of one-liners, a fucked up past, and finishes every sentence with a shotgun blast (I’m on a God damn roll).  That’s the issue I have with many hero characters these days, is that they can’t be fun and kooky.  The ones that are a little odd-ball are typically very young characters, but rarely are they the old-timers with age in their face and stories to tell.

And don’t let me forget J.C. played by Steve Marshall (he was also on 21 Jump Street, so you know this guy is big time).  Now I always say he had polio in the movie – even though there’s no mention of it – so maybe I’ll just switch to “handicapped”… even though I wanna say “cripple”.  Having a character with a disability for no good God damn reason does add some realism to a film that is so far passed the limits of normality.  I hate when every actor in a film looks like they just got done tanning in the OC and are on their way to getting frap-a-fucking-chinos at some coffee shop before they zoom off to blow each other while watching Friends. The characters in this movie look like normal to partially awkward people, just like every other random you pass on the street.  Dekker threw in a guy who should easily be a shut-in, but J.C. turns out to be one of the better characters in the movie.  He pushes his buddy Chris (the actor Jason Lively was also on 21 Jump Street; P.I.M.P.) to actually talk to a woman and not be such a pussy that bitches about everything wrong in his life, but actually assists him in fixing all the bullshit.

I don’t think I ever wanna have kids.  I’m already too damn selfish as it is and if I have to fork out cash to some free-loader that can’t even walk or talk; don’t think so.  But if I ever become “responsible” and “stop peeing in the sink” which – God forbid – leads me into parenthood, my kid would get a VHS tape (yup, just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean I’m NOT poor) with three titles on it:  The Thing, Aliens, and Night of the Creeps.  Because isn’t the whole point of having kids so as not to be your parents or do I have that backwards?  I really don’t know.  Well I’m off to get a vasectomy; wish me luck.

Some people say that the difference between film and television are commercials. The argument generally goes that because television shows are made to get people to watch advertisements, they are less “artistic” than movies.  Movies intent on the other hand is… well for argument’s sake let’s just say it is to be artistic.  We are putting aside Tyler Perry’s entire portfolio, the intent of which seems to be to get me to watch innumerable advertisements for Tyler Perry’s portfolio.  We are also putting aside product placement, like in Twister when Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton (and even Philip Seymour Hoffman!) collect all the aluminum cans they can find from a the decimated exurb subdivision so their sensors can fly, and all the cans happen to be Pepsi cans.  The cans were in perfect shape too, I mean a tornado just hit her crappy little street!  I guess all the Pepsi cans make sense of why Aunt May is so fat when she seems to eat natural foods.  Maybe the whole town worked at a bottling plant.  But where is the neighbor that drinks a 12 pack of Budweiser a day?  So with all that off to the side, we have the real difference between television and film: longevity.

Movies are usually one-off events that an audience goes to for a few hours, and then digests.  Television shows are on weekly for months at a time.  Television shows have an opportunity to allow people to connect with characters, ponder problems, and speculate about next week.  Of course there are crossovers to each type.  Miniseries are uniformly bad, but are supposed to be similar to movie experiences I guess, while the Harry Potter movies are another beast entirely.  But I still refuse to count the last 23 Land Before Time as actual movies.  Anyway, while television shows are at their base level meant to create an audience for ads, the side effect of this is that it has allowed writers to create rich storylines and characters precisely to get us to come back each week (to watch more ads).  Movies (at least the best ones) are stand alone affairs.  We see them once (on average) and the best sequels can even be watched on their own.

That’s the main difference as I see it.  Television is meant to be a part of our daily routines, while film is meant to stand out.  That is not to say one is better than the other, merely to say that they are quite different.

Due to popular demand, here is it… Whatever happened to Lee Montgomery?

He was the tasty, all dancing, white vest wearing, drink of water in Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. And he was cuuuuuute! But what happened to him?

I mean, Helen Hunt and SJP went onto better things. Even Shannen Doherty had a pretty good run. But lovely little Lee? There isn’t even a picture of him on IMDB so that we can see what he looks like now!

Apparently, he became a musician and composer. Does anyone have any more information?

Viele Versuche brauchte ich, bis ich diesen Film nun schließlich von Anfang bis Ende gesehen habe. Bestimmt drei oder vier. Warum ich die ganzen anderen Male immer nach etwa der Hälfte eingeschlafen bin, kann ich mir auch nicht erklären. Denn schlecht oder langweilig ist der Film nun wirklich nicht. Ganz im Gegenteil! Besser geht’s nicht ist ein hervorragender Film. Man könnte fast sagen der Name ist Programm.

Und das liegt hauptsächlich an einem grandiosen Jack Nicholson. Er spielt einen zynischen Misanthropen mit so allerlei Zwangsneurosen, der im Laufe des Films eine wesentliche Veränderung seines Charakters durchlebt. Hauptsächlich hervorgerufen durch einen kleinen Hund und eine junge, hübsche Frau.
Nicholson ist derart grandios und authentisch in seiner Rolle, dass es eine wahre Freude ist. Er gehört ohnehin zu meinen Lieblingsschauspielern und zwar genau wegen solcher Rollen. Er hat damals dafür den Oscar als bester Hauptdarsteller bekommen. Völlig zurecht, meiner Meinung nach.

An seiner Seite sehen wir hier Helen Hunt. Ich muss gestehen, ich hatte sie bisher nie so recht auf dem Schirm, für mich war sie immer die neurotische Zuckerschnute aus “Verrrückt nach Dir”. Aber die Frau kann was und das zeigt sie hier auch. Auch für sie gabs damals den Oscar.

Besser geht’s nicht ist wirklich so ein Film, der von der ersten Minute an Spaß macht. Schon die Eröffnungsszene ist toll, als Melvin (Jack Nicholson) sich den Hund schnappt und ihn mit einem trockenen

This is New York, pal. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere!

in den Müllschacht befördert. Nicht dass ich so ein Verhalten gegenüber Tieren gutheißen würde, aber die Szene ist einfach zu köstlich.

Der Film hat vielleicht hier und da ein paar Längen, er ist mit knapp 130 Minuten auch relativ lang, und das war vielleicht auch der Grund, warum ich bisher meine Schwierigkeiten mit ihm hatte. Aber wenn man sich auf den Film einlässt, wird man definitiv belohnt. Und wiegesagt. Nicholson muss man gesehen haben.

Vanity Fair, which laid off journalists last week, is reportedly hiring actor Sean Penn to travel to Havana to conduct an interview with Cuban president Fidel Castro. The magazine is said to have assigned Penn to write a story about how the Obama administration has affected Cuba.

LBN-COMMENTARY By PETER BART: Mention Roman Polanski at a social gathering and you are likely to find yourself in a heated argument. With bail now formally denied by the Swiss (Polanski already has spent one month in jail) and with extradition to the U.S. seemingly inevitable, the debate will grow ever more shrill.

THE LIST RANT By ERICKA T. BASS: 1. If theres a bigger loser on the planet than Lorenzo Lamas, I haven’t found him.   2. Time-Warner can shove their awful customer service up their ass.   3. Men I would never sleep with, even for money: Obama, Kaddafi, Sam Zell, Bono, Monty Hall and, of course, Lorenzo Lamas.   4. Want to throw up at a restaurant – go to Buca di Beppo or the Olive Garden.   5. Blue Shield now sends me their notices in about ten different languages. Lucky me.   6. Thank God women like me broke out of their domestic cocoon, leaving their stupid mother’s circumscribed lives in the garbage heap.   7. Face it, friends – America is so obsessed with youth and looks even with an array of super-expensive cosmetic procedures that allow women to become their own Frankenstein Barbies.   8. Stupid female celebrities: Sarah Jessica Parker, Cameron Diaz, Helen Hunt, Pamela Anderson and last but certainly not least Lindsay Lohan.

an excerpt from Levine Breaking News

Clichês à parte, é óbvio que um filme com Diane Keaton e Jack Nicholson renderia várias indicações.

A primeira delas, é claro, só poderia sair da boca do Harry:

I have never lied to you. I have always told you…. some version of the truth.

Escolher a Melhor Revanche foi, contudo, difícil. A peça de teatro da Erica Barry é fantástica…

…mas vamos combinar que ela também deu um golpe de mestre quando arrumou o Keanu Reeves como namorado?  

PS1: Quem escreveu e dirigiu esse filme foi a Nancy Meyers, responsável pelos seguintes blockbusters:

- O Amor Não Tira Férias - já indicado por Melhor Frase.

- Do que As Mulheres Gostam – Melhor Dança.

- Operação Cupido – embora não contemplado nesse humilde blog, é um filminho bonitinho, bem Disney. Melhor: revelou Lindsey Lohan, uma fofa e casta (opa, será que eu vou entrar em apuros, como o Zé Simão, pelo emprego dessa palavra?) ruivinha.

PS2: O próximo filme da Nancy? It’s Complicated, com Meryl (I don’t wanna talk) Streep, Steve Martin e Alec Baldwin.

Preparem-se!

Drama | Romance

Rendezte: Mimi Leder

Írta: Catherine Ryan Hyde és Leslie Dixon

Zene:   Thomas Newman

Bemutató: 2000 Október 12

Hossza: 122 perc

Pár színész:

Kevin Spacey …         Eugene Simonet

Helen Hunt     …         Arlene McKinney

Haley Joel Osment     …         Trevor McKinney

Jay Mohr         …         Chris Chandler

James Caviezel           …         Jerry

Jon Bon Jovi   …         Ricky McKinney

Angie Dickinson        …         Grace

Trailer:

Summa: Trevor új tanára egyszerű házifeladatot hagy fel a kisiskolásoknak: Változtassák meg a világot. Mindenki találjon ki valamit és kezdjen is neki a megvalósításnak. Trevor ötlete viszont nagyon különlegesnek bizonyul. Arra gondolt, hogy ha ő segítene három embernek, valami nagy dologban, amit ők maguk nem tudnának megtenni és ők ahelyett, hogy viszonoznák a kedvességet inkább más három emberen segítenének. A gépezet elindult.

Duma: Leírhatatlanul gyönyörű ez a film. Annyira mélyremenően beszél az emberi szeretetről, a gyermeki tisztaságról és a jobb jövő lehetőségéről.

A történet kéyt szálon fut, az egyik, amelyet a summában elmesélte, a másik egy újságíró, akinek egy ismeretlen egy nagy szívességet tesz és elkezdi felgöngyölíteni a jó-tettek-szálát.

Trevor és édesanyja Arlene családi élete és Trevor tanárának Eugenenek a múltja is külön falatokat alkotnak a filmben és az egész egyesül egy egységes igaz történetté az ember életéről és félelmeiről, vágyairól és gátlásairól.

Oscar: Sehol semmi ?!?

Imdb trivia:

• Haley Joel Osment és a filmben játszott szerepe, Trevor McKinney, mindketten megünnepelték a tizenkettedik szülinapjukat a film forgatása alatt. Az egyik a filmben a családjával, a másik a stúdióban a stáb tagjaival.

P.S.: A már beharangozott végződal: Calling all angels.

Rating: Ismét és megint, újra meg újra!

A tornado touches down in "Twister".

(Jan de Bont, 1996)

October 11, 2009

by Joel Crary

“Twister” is less a film than an amusement park ride. It contains scenes that suit no other purpose but to thrill. Its protagonists chase tornadoes and often have to dodge debris, which consists of enormous pieces of farm equipment, 18-wheel tankers full of petroleum and cows. Indeed, flying bovine formed the basis of “Twister’s” advertising campaign when it was released back in 1996, around the dawn (or at least brunch-hour) of some nifty CGI.

I admit that calling a film an amusement park ride is nothing new in the realm of describing an action picture, but the likeness in “Twister’s” case is undeniable. Those of you who have been to Canada’s Wonderland and strapped yourself in for the latest theatre-ride version of a Paramount flick will understand. The first half of the movie is a complete run of adrenaline, with cameras pointed directly into the path of enormous computer-generated tornadoes. Members of the chasing team scream instructions into their headsets that make little sense to the layman but sound really, really important. They make obvious observations about the conditions of the surrounding area, such as “We’ve got hail” or “It’s gonna shift”. Of course they do, and of course it is. You know how a ride works. You just want to experience it for yourself.

In that vein, director Jan de Bont knew exactly where to place his cameras when filming “Twister”. In 1995, he made the transition over from an impressive list of cinematography credits with “Speed”, a film that changed the modern action genre. Both that film and “Twister” are unrelenting in their execution of harrowing events. “Twister” gives us stuff we’ve never seen before, like a truck driving through a house as though it’s roadkill, and a drive-in movie screen being torn to shreds as it displays the tensest moment of Stanley Kubrick’s “The Shining”.

The cinematography is excellent, with long, sweeping aerial shots that caress the farmlands and dark, pallid tones that cast an ominous shadow over the entire midwest. When Bill Harding (Bill Paxton) sifts the dirt through his fingers and squints off into the distance over the horizon as the winds increase, his poise and calm demeanor in the face of inevitable chaos make him the man to trust. He is counterbalanced by Jo (Helen Hunt), who at times would rather fight a tornado with her fists than stand back to study it. She’s driven by her father’s death at the touch of an F5 (referred to as “the finger of God” in the midst of an awed silence) and has been on the lookout for one since.

The team is comprised of kooks and weirdos, some played by now-identifiable actors such as Alan Ruck, Jeremy Davies and a boisterous Philip Seymour Hoffman, who seems incredibly happy to be there. In order to show the kind of damage the storms can do, the movie finds it necessary to sacrifice somebody it convinces us to loathe. Enter Jonas, who Cary Elwes plays with a southern accent and cocky attitude. His team has corporate sponsorship, though I wonder which corporations would benefit from such a niche area of scientific research. They drive around in black vehicles and sport the latest high-tech equipment, but they’re no match for Bill’s instinct.

The whole premise of rivaling tornado chasers is obviously ridiculous, but the actors have fun with it and the pace never slows. Paxton has a few overstuffed lines that he delivers with zero self-awareness. Hunt looks hangdog and open-mouthed much of the time, as though the tornadoes are an annoying upstairs neighbour. What keeps things cooking is the astounding visual work from the Oscar-nominated effects team and de Bont’s ability to keep his camera moving without treading into shots that are too dramatic to take seriously.

It’s a pity that de Bont has never really lived up to the promise he showed as a director after his first two films, instead putting out efforts like the dreadful “Speed” sequel and “The Haunting”, the effects work of which looked silly in comparison. “Twister” doesn’t take itself too seriously, looks appropriately atmospheric, is heart-stopping in its execution and knows that at the end of the day it’s about providing spectacle. It’s a film I toss on when I want to take a ride.

Companheiro, companheiro vem…

Alguém tinha dúvida de que estava falando do Wilson? Porque eles tinham umas DRs, mas…

…aposto que você também ficou com coração partido quando eles se separaram.

E você já imaginou o que o Wilson diria ou responderia? Bom, tem gente que já…

…e foi mais de uma pessoa.

Tem também quem tenha tido o seu dia de Náufrago.

PS1:  O Wilson fez tanto sucesso que todo mundo quis tirar uma casquinha – da Mad ao Todo Mundo em Pânico 2 e o Saturday Night Live.

PS2: Quer acabar com a solidão? Adquira já o seu Wilson na Amazon.

PS3: Afinal, como disse o Chuck Noland, I know what I have to do now, I’ve got to keep breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?

Qualcosa è cambiato (1997; James L. Brooks)

Nicholson è capace di fare dei film meravigliosi. Soprattutto è capace di rendere meravigliosi anche film tutto sommato modesti. Qualcosa è cambiato non è bruttissimo, per carità, diciamo che non ha un’idea di fondo particolarmente originale, questo sì. Ma poi arriva Jack e comincia a saltellare quando cammina per strada, cercando di non toccare la gente, e si lascia andare a una serie di idiosincrasie pazzesche che ti fanno passare dalle risate alla tristezza in un battito di ciglia.
E l’affetto del suo personaggio per il suo tavolo fisso e per la cameriera che lo serve, perché ne ha bisogno per vivere bene è quanto di più straniante e comprensibile ci sia al mondo – io, per dire, se vado spesso nello stesso posto, ho la tendenza a sedermi sempre nello stesso punto, a meno di impedimenti.
I personaggi di contorno, tra Greg Kinnear e Helen Hunt sono molto carini e si ha l’occasione di rivedere Cuba Gooding Jr., che un giorno capirò se è solo stato sfortunato, dopo l’Oscar per Jerry Maguire, o se è stato uno dei più clamorosi errori dell’Academy.

Helen Hunt

I thought it might be interesting for people to get a sense of what I’m doing these days.  I work for the major studios as a union story analyst when such jobs are available.  Most recently I was at Paramount but all of Hollywood seems shriveled by the worldwide economic slump and I haven’t had a studio gig in a year.  Hello Hollywood, I’m available!  Meanwhile I do consulting jobs for various companies and go around the world giving lectures and seminars on story structure and the “Hero’s Journey” pattern derived from mythology and the works of Joseph Campbell.  I am working closely with the Swarovski crystal company on a number of film projects, and I consult with directors and writers on their screenplays.  In recent times I had a hand in Roland Emmerich’s 10,000 B.C., Darren Aronofsky’s THE WRESTLER, Helen Hunt’s feature directing debut THEN SHE FOUND ME, and a couple of Will Smith movies, I AM LEGEND and HANCOCK.  I had fun on all these projects but am particularly pleased about 10,000 B.C. where I can find scenes in the trailer that I definitely influenced.  These were some of the big turning points in the movie and I’ve discovered one of the things I’m good at is identifying and magnifying the effect of these turning points.  In one case, at the climax of the movie, I was insistent that the gold capstone of a pyramid had to be toppled in order to fulfill the requirements of an epic movie, and there it is toppling spectacularly in the trailer.  Cool.

And I have my own projects.  My book THE WRITER’S JOURNEY is in its third edition and has sold over 250,000 copies.  I’m working on another book, working title BOILERPLATE, that will present essential concepts and principles for writers and creative artists.  I’m writing a historical novel set in a time and place I love, and I’m scheming how to revive the manga or graphic novel that I started, RAVENSKULL.  The first installment was published by Seven Seas but it didn’t perform well enough to continue the series.  I don’t feel too bad; the same thing happened to Patrick O’Brian after sales of his first Aubrey/Maturin novels were disappointing, but an American publisher saw merit in the series and revived it.  Ravenskull is a medieval fantasy written as a sequel to Sir Walter Scott’s IVANHOE and I had the time of my life collaborating with the artist, the talented Elmer Damaso.  The next chapter is all mapped out and I’d love to see it in print.  Maybe I’ll write it up in novel form.

Y no hablo precisamente de la comedia protagonizada por Mel Gibson y Helen Hunt en la que, aunque sí puedes pasar un buen rato, en hora y media es muy raro encontrar alguna situación en la que te identifiques. Y es que, a Dios gracias, las mujeres tenemos muchas más inquietudes de las que un romanticón film estadounidense muestra para asegurarse una buena distribución y sobre todo una buena taquilla. Y no es una crítica a USA ni mucho menos. Es un gran país que tiene la suerte de ser tan grande que puede contar con “grandes” y “pequeños” en casi todos los ámbitos: cine, política, gastronomía, literatura,…

Precisamente estoy leyendo un libro de una fantástica escritora de Carolina del Norte, llamada Lionel Shriver. Me lo recomendó una amiga que también sabe en qué piensan las mujeres en realidad, y que lo “receta” a menudo (aunque no es médico) pensando en que si no te “cura”, al menos “previene”.

Aunque todavía no he pasado de la página 100, y a medida que evolucione puede que cambie de opinión, de momento me recuerda mucho a una de mis pelis favoritas, “Los puentes de Madison” donde una fantástica Meryl Streep hace balance de su vida, de sus pensamientos, de sus deseos,… vía epístola a sus hijos, como imagino lo querremos hacer todos en el Día del Juicio cuando asistamos a la proyección de nuestra película, versión íntegra, de lo que nos ocurrió desde el momento en que nacimos. Y es que si en nuestras vidas se cruza un Robert (Clint Eastwood) o un Ramsey (en ‘El mundo después del cumpleaños’) cada una tendrá que decidir y, aún a riesgo de sufrir, de equivocarnos, de decepcionar a unos, a otros o a todos,… la sentencia será pública, pero los más profundos pensamientos, por mucho que se empeñen los hombres, nos son más que nuestros y para siempre.