This film was directed by Werner Herzog and stars Nicolas Cage with support from Eva Mendes and Val Kilmer. It shares part of a title and the concept of a corrupt cop with the 1992 film The Bad Liutenent starring Harvey Keitel.

Herzog has stated he doesn’t consider this film a re-make. Check out this quote from Wikipedia about the reaction of Abel Ferrara, the director of the first film:

Abel Ferrara, director of the 1992 film, has been quoted by various media outlets as being very angry about this film. After the film was first announced, Ferrara was quoted as saying “As far as remakes go, … I wish these people die in Hell. I hope they’re all in the same streetcar, and it blows up.” When asked later for his response to Ferrara’s statements, Herzog stated that he does not know who Ferrara is, saying “I’ve never seen a film by him. I have no idea who he is.”^[13] At a press conference at the Venice Film Festival after the film’s premiere, Herzog said of Ferrara, “I would like to meet the man,” and “I have a feeling that if we met and talked, over a bottle of whiskey, I should add, I think we could straighten everything out.”

That said, Bad Lieutenent: Port of Call New Orleans is a good but not great film. The stand-out elements of the film are Nicolas Cage’s performance, which was really fantastic, and the cinematography, which I thought was excellent. On the negative side, the film needs some firm editing, and the ending is limp at best. There were parts of this film when I couldn’t decide if it was a comedy or not, and I think that edge is explored nicely for a chunk of the film.

All that said, I think this film is well worth seeing. By the way, there is an interesting musical highlight in the film – Sonny Terry’s incredible “Hootin the Blues” harmonica solo is used during a key scene.

On the 5-fish anchovy rating scale, I give this one a solid 3 salties.

For about nine years now, Val Kilmer has reached out to his neighbors in nearby villages  to provide wonderful Thanksgiving dinners for those who are in need.  We have three great accounts of Val’s generous nature. Check out Why Val Kilmer Bought Me a Turkey, Kilmer Kindness Act 2 and Another Turkey Story.  God Bless and Happy Thanksgiving. 

~ The staff of Val Kilmer the Real Deal.com

 “Vi a las mejores mentes de mi generación destruidas por la locura, hambrientas histéricas desnudas, arrastrándose por las calles de los negros al amanecer en busca de un colérico pinchazo,”, dicen los primeros versos de Aullido (traducción de Rodrigo Olavarría), poema emblemático del pontífice beatnik Allen Ginsberg. Una de esas mentes destruidas fue la de Jim Morrison (1943-1971), el último sex symbol, el último poeta, el ultimo chamán, el Rey Lagarto (the lizard King), el último bardo, el último Dionisio en pantalones de cuero, líder y vocalista de The doors (1965-1971).

Awake, shake dreams from your hair my little sweetheart. Choose the day, choose the sign of your day. The day’s divinity. Ver The doors (1991) de Oliver Stone es sacudir polvo de sueños que amenazan con destronar a la divinidad del día. De cualquier día. Vista en su momento de estreno resultó toda una experiencia sensorial. Verla ahora, con más calma, es poner a un documento visual donde debe de estar: es un homenaje sentido a un grupo emblemático de los sesenta, sobre todo a su líder James Douglas Morrison.

La entrada de The Rolling Stone Enciclopedya of rock and roll  (2003), en la página 278, tiene el siguiente preámbulo en las dos páginas dedicadas al grupo californiano: “Sexo, muerte, reptiles, carisma y una variante única de blues eléctrico dio a The Doors un aura de profundidad que no solo sobrevivió sino que ha durado más de treinta años después de la muerte de su vocalista. Las letras de Morrison se leían como delirios adolescentes pero muy cargados de sexualidad deliberada. El seco órgano de Manzarek y la guitarra jazzística de Robby Krieger se convirtieron en una leyenda poderosa con una música que era casi una invocación chamanística a fuerzas familiares y al mismo tiempo demoníacas, y en el caso de Morrison una obsesión por el exceso y por ende con la muerte”.

Nunca mejor dicho. Bien resumida el alma de este grupo paradigmático. Las letras de Morrison eran verdaderos poemas en un estilo simbolista que recordaba a Rimbaud y William Blake. De este último tomaron el nombre del grupo. En Matrimonio entre el cielo y la tierra Blake pregonaba que “si las puertas de la percepción se abrieran, cada cosa aparecería ante los ojos del hombre como son, infinitas. Pero el hombre se ha encerrado sobre sí mismo hasta que logre ver las cosas a través de las estrechas grietas de su caverna” (traducción de Marcelo Báez).

El encargado de la biopic  (biographical picture) de The doors es Oliver Stone, ex veterano de la guerra de Vietnam, terrorista por naturaleza, subversivo del lenguaje cinematográfico. Un experto en crear escándalos, un provocador profesional, eso es para algunos este cineasta de apellido de piedra. Su disección del asesinato de  JFK (1991) fue piropeado como “una relato político contado por Costa Gavras y montado por Eisenstein”. Su Peloton (1986) fue galardonada con cuatro Oscars de la Academia (lo que sea que eso signifique ya que dicho premio no es precisamente un honor en estas épocas). Fundamentales en su filmografía son Wall Street  (1987) con Michael Douglas y también Salvador (1986), con James Woods.

Asesinos por naturaleza (1995), escrita por Quentin Tarantino, fue celebrada como una narrativa alucinógena y una crítica acérrima a los mass media, sobre todo a los reality y talk shows.

Después de estos seis filmes (The doors incluido) la carrera de Stone ha ido cada vez más en picada con filmes insulsos carentes de la fuerza inicial de su carrera.

Revisada después de dieciocho años, el filme de Stone sigue siendo una apología no tanto del grupo sino de su vocalista de quien se incluyen poemas en el metraje. Se interpolan, además, imágenes surrealistas y realmente sugestivas. Loable el intento de aunar la lírica de Morrison con la poesía visual de Stone. El problema con esta biopic es el concentrarlo todo en el joven vocalista que siguió el precepto de James Dean: “Live fast, die young”. Comienza en las playas de California donde conoció a Manzarek (ambos eran estudiantes de cine de la UCLA) y termina en París, con aguacero, para ser enterrado en esa versión francesa del Olimpo que es Pére-Lachaise. La intención es darle al personaje esa aureola mítica pero el abuso resulta poco soportable después de casi veinte años de haberla visto. Hay cosas que realmente sobran como la apología de la satiriasis de Morrison. La responsabilidad mayor del filme recae en Val Kilmer (nominado al MTV award por este rol) quien se arriesga a cantar con voz propia algunos de los temas musicales. Igual sigue siendo el único filme de ficción, hasta la fecha, sobre el grupo que ahora tiene nuevo vocalista. Destacan Meg Ryan en el rol de Pamela, la esposa del cantante y Kyle McLahlan como Ray Manzarek. Vale.

Top Gun is one of my all time favorite movies. Maverick and Goose, Ice Man and Charlie, Cruise and Kilmer,etc. Near the end of the movie, shortly after the climactic dog fight, Kilmer and Cruise meet on the deck of the carrier. After a brief stare down, Kilmer tells Cruise, “you are still dangerous,” adding that he could still be his wingman. Then we have the macho man  hug and action continues.

According to some well-known folks, there is  a dangerous person running amok around the country today. She has been to Ft Bragg, to Roanoke,Va, to Columbus and Cincinnati, Oh among others. Organizing for America director Mitch Stewart calls her dangerous as does well-known style arbiter Martha Stewart, presumably not related. Ms Stewart, apparently with her verbal claws sharpened also threw in the descriptive words confused  and boring. Doubtless Tina Fey had something to say also, but I don’t care.

Of course, we speak of Sarah Palin as she tours the country to promote her book which sold some 300,000 copies on day 1. I will say up front that unlike a number of my conservative brethren, I am uncertain as to whether Ms Palin would make  a good president of presidential candidate even. But I am certainly enjoying the angst that is surfacing  among those who are not fans. Is she dangerous? Dangerous to what and to whom, don’t know. I don’t really think so. It was amusing to note Martha Stewart’s comments. I  am unsure how one can be boring and dangerous simultaneously. If you are dangerous, you are certainly not boring are you? Why does Martha even care?

Anyway, the Obamacare folks should applaud her media attention. She is probably diverting some attention from all the machinations and payouts occurring in the Senate to obtain the votes of wavering Democrats. Whatever it takes, though. Sen Schumer said, we can’t not succeed. Parse that phrase, all you grammarians.

Last note. McCain has read her book and liked it. Obama says he probably will not read it.

I’ve been frequently told that I think too much, tend to go overboard on the analysis of all things great and trivial. I torment myself and others with too many, “What does it all mean?”

Why are you looking at me that way?  Okay, I know. You are wondering how I am able to consume copious hours of reality television. The answer: I give brain a mini vacay from thinking with a promise to resume its usual task once the show, or in this most recent case, the movie,  Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, is over.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, which opened last Friday, starring Nicholas Cage, is quite predictable even in its unpredictability. But if you love your Nick Cage over-the-top and chomping on the scenery like El Chubracabra, this is the film for you.

Directed by Werner Herzog, the film has Cage (Terence McDonagh) as a not-so-great cop gone bad but still doing what he needs to do for the sake of the greater good even it’s bad. Get that?  Don’t worry, it’s not as complicated as it sounds.

Nicholas Cage and Val Kilmer in 'Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans' (photo: Courtesy of Fanscape)

You see, the story takes place in New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina. The levees have broken. The police station is flooding. In an effort to save a prisoner trapped in a cell in which the water is rising rapidly, Cage dives in. He saves the prisoner but injures his back.  To ease the pain, a doctor prescribes some medication. Cage takes it as well as his own self-prescribed meds. He particularly likes the kind that come in powder form — if you know what I mean. Cage uses rather unconventional means of scoring drugs. I don’t want to reveal anything. Let’s just say he has a gun and a badge and is not afraid to use it.

Although Cage, who was promoted to Lieutenant following the heroic rescue, pursues drugs like it was his job to do so, Cage’s real job is to investigate the drug-related, execution style murder of a Sengalese family.

Eva Mendes in 'Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans' (photo: Courtesy of Fanscape)

The film follows Cage as he attempts to keep it together enough to track down the criminals. Oh, if that wasn’t enough to keep him busy, he takes time to get a little loving and a hit of the good stuff from his high class hooker, addict girlfriend played by Eva Mendes (Frankie Donnenfeld). Mendes’ performance, a take on the hooker with a heart of gold — kind of, sort of — is top of the line B-movie quality…Now, wait a minute, I’m not saying she is bad. Not at all. She gives a good performance in a very limited role.

Xzibit, Nicholas Cage and Cohorts from 'Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans' (photo: Courtesy of Fanscape

Every cop film needs a villain.  Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans has one in rapper turned actor Alvin “Xzibit” Joiner (Big Fate), the drug lord sought in connection with the murders. He is surprisingly good, giving a calm, measured performance in contrast to Cage’s wild man antics.

Another surprise, a rather odd one, is the film’s supporting cast which includes noted actors such as Jennifer Coolidge, Irma P. Hall, Vondie Curtis-Hall, and Val Kilmer as Cage’s partner.  To say that they are underutilized, would be an understatement.  The truth of the matter is that it’s Cage’s film and everyone is there in service to him. Now is not the time for breakout performances.

I’m going to do a bit of thinking right now. I do have to say that I expected a better treatment of New Orleans as backdrop. There was no sense of place or reason why the story needed to take place in this particular location at this particular time.  As it is filmed, New Orleans looks like just another blighted American city, not one so keenly etched into our collective consciousness.

Well, enough of that.

Nick Cage fans. You get your man just like you like him – - bigger than life, wild, with a healthy dose of camp.

Enjoy.

Almost lost me, then it didn’t! One great lieutenant! 8/10 [IAN]

Buy it

Wow. I truly did not see this coming, but the new Nic Cage film is a “certified fresh pick” and (as of 11/23/09) has an 84% on Rotten Tomatoes right now. Of course, my initial thought was that the score must have only been pulling from five or so reviews…nope. Over 60 reviews have been submitted. Yes, folks. Nic Cage and his new film – 84%.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans – released this Friday:

Val Kilmer attended the 2009 American Music Awards with his buddy Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson.  Get the details at Val Kilmer The Real Deal.com

El día de ayer fueron los American Music Awards y, como ya es costumbre cada que hay alfombra roja, siempre hay gente que sólo llega para que le tomen la foto. Por ejemplo, aunque estoy seguro que muchos confundieron a este ser con Lady Caca, en realidad se trata de un wey de octava llamado Bobby Trendy cuyo único mérito es haber sido amigo de Anna Nicole Smith. Aunque merece un leve reconocimiento por captar tan bien la esencia de Caca, es más, me tomó un buen rato notar la diferencia.

Hagan click en leer más para ver más oportunistas y uno que otro famoso que llegaron al evento.

Aquí tienen a Val Kilmer luciendo como la hermana gemela perdida de Kelly Clarkson. Me resulta por demás triste ver a Val en este estado, si consideramos que este hombre fue bastante atractivo en su mejor época, fue Batman por el amor de Dios!. En cambio ahora podría audicionar para el papel del Pingüino. Ugh.

Y ya que mencioné a Kelly Clarkson, aquí la tienen muy coqueta mandando besitos, pero no crean que esas muestras de cariño eran para sus fans o para los fotógrafos, en realidad le estaba enviando besos a los del servicio de banquetes porque seguramente se la pasaría ahí TOOOOODA la noche.

Todavía no me decido si el vestido de Rihanna parece mantel de servicio funerario o una rebuscada pieza de origami, pero no me pareció nada bonito el atuendo.

Pete Wentz se tomó un descanso de sus actividades usuales (o sea, comer bananas y columpiarse en árboles) para asistir a la entrega de premios y llegó vestido como recién salido de The Matrix.

Por último aquí tienen a la translúcida Nicole Kidman acompañada de su esposo Keith Urban. Siento algo de pena por Nicole, porque estoy seguro que está tan estirada que cada vez que sonríe, involuntariamente se le abren las nalgas, así que por eso tiene especial cuidado para no sufrir ningún accidente.

Tras de haber actuado en varias cintas, e incluso haberse hecho ya de un lugar en Hollywood, el rapero 50 Cents está dispuesto a dar el próximo paso, ahora como guionista. La cinta en la que está trabajando llevará por título The Gun, que si bien apenas está en etapa preliminar, narrará el drama de dos amigos que se ven sumergidos en el mundo de las armas ilegales. Aunque aún no encuentra alguien interesado en producir la cinta – algo difícil sin tener el guión acabado – asegura que piensa ofrecerle el co-estelar a Val Kilmer. Tendremos que ver en que acaba todo esto.

What the hell happened last night at the American Music Awards? When did they become the new shock-you-silly awards show to replace the now-vanilla MTV Video Music Awards?

The new recipe for an awards show is this:

*Taylor Swift wins everything; no fewer than five statues.
*Lady Gaga performs in a weird getup after arriving in a weird getup.
*Someone does something shocking, either Lady Gaga or a surprise…like an “American Idol” channeling old Bowie/Madonna stuff.
*All hip-hop performers keep it clean and classy.
*Janet Jackson shows no skin. Ever. Again. America still hasn’t healed from the nipplegate backlash, although after Adam Lambert last night, we’ve moved on to Crotchgate.

Speaking of Crotchgate…

I understand Adam Lambert’s need to distance himself from the squeaky clean-ness of “American Idol.”  But is that really a need? I also understand the need to do something to keep his name prominent in the headlines today–the day his album “For Your Entertainment” drops.  There’s no such thing as bad press, after all.  Even if you mash a male dancer’s face into your crotch, caress a female dancer’s crotch, and make out with your male keyboard player–all after playing the sadomasochist part with two dancers on leashes–you still get press.  I get it; you’re playing both sides of the fence, trying to court both female and male fans with bisexuality and a cheesy but androgynous album cover.

But shouldn’t it be about the music?

I’m a fan of both Adam Lambert and Lady Gaga.  After last night’s AMA performances from both, I am SMH today.  Both artists can stand on talent alone.  Both can sing, both have a flare for performing.  I’m all for outrageous when it fits.  But when it becomes about being outrageous for the sake of being outrageous, that’s when it gets lame.  Contrived.  Fake.  Silly.  Annoying.

Don’t play the tortured artist bit on stage.  Gaga had gigs writing songs for others before she got her “Fame” and Lambert was doing pretty good for himself acting alongside Val Kilmer in the stage show of “The Ten Commandments.”  While either one was hardly pulling in millions, both were working artists.  I think that’s always the goal, right?  Both could have still been serving meals during their first showbiz gigs for all I know.  But hey, a gig’s a gig.

Just go on stage and perform.  Just show me your talent and remind me why I’m a fan.  Even a simple performance can be captivating.  It doesn’t always have to be outlandish.  I thought Jennifer Lopez’s performance of “Louboutins” was great.  It was creative and she pulled it off, except for the fall…  If I even think about Louboutins I fall down, so I totally understand.

You want simple?  Captivating?  Something that stands on the strength of the music alone?  Try watching Lady Antebellum’s performance at the Country Music Awards.  Has “Need You Now” not been the top single on iTunes (or near the top) every day since?

Or, from the AMAs last night, how about Whitney Houston singing “I Didn’t Know My Own Strength.”  That was amazing!  She was flawless.

Or Jay-Z and Alicia Keys who were just classy.

Look, I don’t need flames, crazy outfits, and controversy.  What I do want is music.  I’d love to have music with opulence.  Flash is OK, but just keep it in good taste.  We’re in a recession (duh).  People want less bullsh!t during a recession.  Flashiness and perky music isn’t popular during a recession.  Remember the 1990s?  It was a crap financial time that birthed Kurt Cobain and flannel shirts.  Remember the late 1990s as things turned around?  It was poppy, perky Britney Spears and N’Sync.  Glam rock?  New wave?  That was during the glory of the 1980s.  Artists should take a cue from the times we live in, maybe be inspired by…reality.

"Have your face set. I don't wanna end up just humping air."

After having my mind blown by Star Trek, I flipped over to the American Music Awards in time to see Jennifer Lopez’s comeback attempt performing a song whose name I don’t recall and am not inclined to look up.

While 1999-2000 really seems like just yesterday, the decade has, indeed, come to  a close and things are not what they once were, as evidenced by Lopez’s tumble after vaulting off the back of a dancer while wearing five-inch heels. She recovered from the tumble, gathering herself enough to ask the crowd (via lip-synch) “You miss me?” The resounding response seemed to be “Once upon a time.”

Now, I could go in on Jennifer Lopez about the tumble or the singing poorly and such, but I have to admit: When she fell I gasped. I clapped my hand over my mouth and actually felt bad. Seeing any performer stumble is cringe-worthy because it really is like dying a thousand deaths on stage, but this emotion had something more to it.

I imagine anyone who saw it thought to themselves “JLo woulda nailed that. Jennifer Lopez, mother of two out of the limelight for a few years, apparently cannot.” Watching great performers lose a step always kind of hurts a little.

A few more thoughts on the AMAs in no particular order:

- Adam Lambert has vocal talent, but I think seeing him perform last night proved that performing live in a concert setting takes a particular talent that plenty of people don’t nail their first time–if ever. As I watched him cavort about the stage as in his spiked suit get-up, face-humping dancers and, at one point, pulling at the crotch chain of a woman in leather underwear, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “This is one time when being gay is helping this dude.” There are things each group can get away with that other can’t e.g. Blacks and “nigga”; women and “see you next Tuesday”…and I feel like crotch-chain pulling is not something I could do successfully.

-Taylor Swift is a talented kid. I was aware of her Pre-Kanye and can say that she does her thing and moves units with pre-Napster-like efficiency. In the pop sense, she is the real deal. That being said, enough is enough. Her windfall from being the little (white) girl who had her moment stolen from the drunken (black) dude is without parallel. Her beating Michael Jackson at anything just looks terrible in the historical sense, but I frankly think it’s worse that she beat a living person by the name of Lady Gaga. This robbery was tantamount to whoever won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar over Val Kilmer for his role in Tombstone. Really. Twitterer @BlackCanseco summed it up nicely when he said, “Once again #TaylorSwift is gettin more sympathy/support than Rihanna. And dude neva laid a glove on her.”

-Gaga is a no-pants wearing beast. Just talented and terribly mesmerizing. Still, those who worship at her altar should keep in mind that she’s Cyndi Lauper with the benefit of the internet.

-HD doesn’t flatter anyone. That’s not even throwing shade; it’s a sad reality that really can’t help the ego of anyone who has cameras pointed at them all the time. Watching the various acts, I started subconsciously touching my own face and thinking “Damn, they’d see every possible ingrown hair scenario on my already big-looking head”. It’s just like one of those giant “Oh crap, I’m ugly!” vanity mirrors women have on their nightstands.

-Jermaine Jackson is eating this up. I’m sure he misses his little brother–I’m sure of it–but he’s eating this up.

-Whitney’s a cagey veteran who really does deserve credit for bouncing back as she has, but people who mention this should do so with a hint of context. Yes; she came back from the brink, but you’re not really ever on the brink brink when you’re a wealthy world-famous entertainer who wasn’t foolish enough to squander every dime you have and thus, have the resource to come back from whatever needs coming back from.

-No big deal Jay but…numbers lie all the time. In fact, they’re often skewed for the purpose of deception so…yeah.

-Eminem began “Crack a Bottle” announcing, boxer-style, his height and weight, then rattled off these statistics “17 rapes, 400 assaults and 4 murders.” Maybe I work too much in news and such, but I found that first part particularly Pelosi Face-inducing. In semi-related news, I’m convinced a lot of already-famous rappers are no longer interested in rapping altogether and are completely nonplussed at the prospect of having to do so live.

-Timbaland’s fatal mistake wasn’t coming on stage looking like he’d started Thanksgiving a few weeks early; his error was in going from round to fit to rounder. You just can’t do that. If you’re going to stay round, people will notice your expansion, but won’t think much of it unless you become morbidly rotund. If you get swoll and take pictures in just smediums and clearly want it to be known you’re getting it in physically, you have to stay somewhere in that range. You cannot come out looking like you just ate Rick Ross with a side of Jazze Pha. For good or ill, those are the rules.

-I don’t pretend to really, really know what happened between Alicia Keys and Swizz Beatz, but I’m disinclined to think it was on the level and feel funny whenever I hear her singing love and relationship songs. On a semi-related note, has any woman gotten to skate more on something as egregious? I’m thinking her only competition of famous famous people is Angelina Jolie and even she didn’t break up a home with a kid in play. Lots of women have tried to tread this ground before and ended up like the first dude who tried to find the grail in The Last Crusade.

I’m not a fan of award shows for their designated purpose per se, of giving the entertainment industry a ‘pat on the back’ for every semi-creative hiccup that comes out of their mouths.  But they’re great if you need to expunge the snarky within.  Because they’re so over-the-top these days, the opportunity to let out the inner bitchy critic is just too easy to resist.  So without further adieu, here I go…

I’m a fan of Kate Hudson. I think she channels the adorable and quirky just as good as her mama, Goldie Hawn ever did.  And I really do get that she’s a thin girl with little on top.  But man o man, take a look at this shot from the AMAs…

I mean – MY GOD – there’s nothing there!  Not even two little training bra bumps. Jesus, Kate…eat some sandwiches with extra mayo and grow a pair.  We’ve seen you with them before.  Remember when?

Ok, granted… you were pregnant in this picture.  But sans the baby bump, you probably had an extra fifteen to twenty pounds on ya.  Get what kitten…they look good on you.

Speaking of growing a pair, seems now that Adam Lambert’s out of the American Idol box, he wants to get his freak on, like, ten fold…

Here, he’s alerting the crowd that, yes, he does have a penis.

And here, he’s making sure we’re all painfully aware of what he likes done to his penis.

And that he doesn’t want any girl cooties near his magic mike…

“Eew! Don’t touch it! It’ll shrinky-dink back to its original size!”

Ahh….that’s better….

Boy meets boy….boy mauls boy. A classic love story.

Speaking of bro-mances…look who 50 cent brought to the AMAs as his date…

Wow, it’s the former hottie – now puffy -Val Kilmer.  It breaks my heart to see how badly he’s aged….

Anyway, a lot of boy love at the AMA’s this year, which is – ya know – fine.  But leave it to Rhianna to remind us what a woman looks like…

Mind you, a bullet-touting, S & M bondage loving, hospital tape-wearing woman. Takes a lot of something to have the balls to wear this…which incidentally makes Rhianna the one sporting the biggest dick at the AMAs this year.

Take that Chris Brown, 50 cent, Lambert and your Merry Men…

Anoche lucieron sus mas brillates ( o desastrosos ) modelitos sobre la alfombra roja de los AMA 09 los mas destacados artistas.En cualquier blog o foro podrás disfrutar de ellos pero desde Ciudad de Soul creemos que la imagen mas sorprendente es esta sin duda.

Val Kilmer x 50 Cent

P.D. : No hay duda,alguien se ha comido a Val Kilmer por obligaciones o no del guión.

Jazz2nite

An orphan from the tough streets of Cleveland, Irish Danny Greene (Ray Stevenson) rises from working longshoreman to union leader to mob ally. Forced out of the union by the feds, Danny starts anew as an enforcer for loan shark Shondor Bims (Christopher Walken), while still maintaining influence with mafia boss John Nardi (Vincent D’Onofrio).

With Detective Joe Manditski (Val Kilmer) in pursuit, Danny rapidly acquires his own power and places himself at odds with the Italians, who find him to be a very difficult man to kill. What follows is a bloody war that breaks out on the streets of Cleveland and gives it the name “Bomb City, U.S.A.”

Based on a true story, The Irishman is the saga of one man who embodied the Irish warrior mentality with a mixture of pride, brutality, ambition, and principle, as became a central figure in the 70s mob war that forever changed organized crime in America.

Directed by Jonathan Hensleigh (The Punisher, 2004)

Source: Collider

Inauguramos a partir de hoy una sección con monográficos sobre cine. Así, cada sábado hablaremos de algún film de culto, analizaremos alguna saga o criticaremos películas míticas. Hoy, vamos con el Batman fílmico…

Para empezar a hablar del cruzado de la capa, hay que remontarse a los mismos años 60, época en la que una serie Camp basada en el personaje, congrega a miles de fans ante la pantalla. Si, hablo de aquella mítica teleserie en la que las onomatopellas de los golpes copaban la imagen: Pow, Biff…

Viendo el enorme éxito que tuvo esta serie, el paso era lógico. Había que llevar a Batman Y Robin al cine. Y así, el productor William Dozier se decide a filmar un episodio largo con estos protagonistas de excepción. Pero claro, es una película y no un capítulo. Quieren tirar la casa por la ventana y fichan a todos los villanos importantes. Joker (Cesar Romero) Pingúino (Burguess Meredith) Enigma (Frank Gossin) y Catwoman (Lee Meriwether, sustituyendo a Julie Newmar, la catwoman de la serie, liada con otro proyecto). Batman (Adam West) y Robin (Burt Ward), deberán enfrentarse a tal atajo de viles y viciosos villanos.

El tono Camp de la serie está presente desde el principio, quedando para el recuerdo la escena de Batman corriendo con la bomba, o la del tiburón de cartón piedra que mordía la pierna del héroe.

En aquellos tiempos la imagen que la mayoría del mundo tenía de Batman, era ésta. Un Batman ciertamente tripudo y siempre metido en situaciones inversímiles y estúpidas. En DC Comics, la editorial que publica el personaje se llevaba las manos a la cabeza. Necesitaban devolver a Batman al origen. A las sombras…

Pasan los años y en las oficinas de Warner Bros se empiezan a oír entre susurros rumores sobre un nuevo proyecto con Batman. Tom Mankiewicz, asesor creativo en Superman the movie (Richard Donner 1978) propone un guión, pero no cuaja. Se parece más a James Bond, personaje del que había escrito libretos, que al propio Batman.

Se van sucediendo los rumores, hasta que el anuncio es oficial. Batman vuelve al cine. La gente del comic tiembla ya que durante años han estado dando una imagen oscura al héroe para que ahora lo arruinen con un film tan camp como aquel de Adam West. Pero pueden estar tranquilos. Se elige a Tim Burton como director. En aquella época, Burton tan solo había dirigido dos films y un puñado de cortos, acordes a un estilo que le va a caracterizar durante el resto de su carrera. Burton lo tiene claro. En su mente, ya sabe quién es Batman. Michael Keaton.

Los fans y el propio Bob Kane, creador del héroe ponen el grito en el cielo y empiezan a llover las quejas. Que si el tipo es bajito, que si ¿qué hace un actor de comedia en un proyecto como este? que si….. Pero da igual. Burton no cede. Lo tiene claro. Ya ha trabajado con el actor en Bitelchus, y le gusta cómo interpreta.

Por el camino, Keaton suelta alguna perla que deja al personaje en no muy buen lugar, lo que cabrea más al ejército de fans. Para el papel del villano parece haber más unanimidad. Alguien del estudio propone a Jack Nicholson. Nadie tiene nada que decir al respecto. Es el maldito Nicholson. Todo un puntazo. Hasta Bob Kane asiente al oir la elección. El actor de Chinatown, no lo duda. Acepta a cambio de fines de semana libres. Y así, junto con Kim Basinger, se empieza a rodar BATMAN.

1989 por fin es el año en el que Batman llega a las pantallas grandes. Tras ver el film, ya nadie recuerda a Adam West. El tono oscuro de Burton (presente en toda su obra) el genial Joker a medio camino entre un asesino psicótico y un payaso de feria, el tema musical de un Danny Elfman desatado y Keaton. Keaton calla a todos los fans. Es el mejor referente visual de Batman que existe. Y nadie puede negarlo.

El film revienta las taquillas de todo el mundo. Y da lugar a un fenómeno: La Batmanía. Mires donde mires, el símbolo del murciélago está ahí. En los cereales, en los refrescos, en las hamburgueserías…..

Burton se frota las manos. A pesar de los agujeros del guión y ciertos momentos tensos ha terminado. Lo ha logrado con nota, así que ya puede dedicarse a otros proyectos. Pero volvería a Gotham.

Con Batman por todas partes, y viendo el éxito del film, que Warner Bros quisiera una secuela era algo que estaba cantado. Así que nada, a llamar a Burton otra vez, que venía de dirigir Eduardo Manostijeras.

Para este nuevo film, se cambia todo el diseño de producción. La película no va a ser para nada un calco de BATMAN. Así, para este Batman Returns se crea un enorme set con la plaza principal de Gotham, el cementerio de la ciudad y el zoo. Todo ello cubierto bajo una espesura blanca causada por la nieve. Poco a poco va tomando forma un proyecto que estará llamado a ser el más Burtoniano de la saga.

Los papeles principales están cogidos. Michael Keaton vuelve a ser Batman. Kim Basinger lo deja en favor de Michelle Pfeiffer que va a ser la mejor Catwoman fílmica jamás vista. Por su parte Danny DeVito se une al cast para interpretar al Pingüino, villano de la función junto con Cristopher Walken que interpreta a Max Shreck (un guiño Burtoniano a Nosferatu).

Al ver el principio del film, se ve que todo es distinto. No tiene que ver nada con el Batman anterior. El film es Eduardo Manostijeras pero con Batman de protagonista. Hasta en la banda sonora, otra vez de Elfman, se nota que las garras de Burton han llegado lejos.

Finalmente la película triunfa, pero los resultados no son tan espectaculares como los de su predecesora. No obstante, en Warner están contentos. La secuela tiene luz verde.

Entre medias de lo que todavía se llama Batman 3, aparece Batman animated series, la mejor recreación del personaje en la pantalla pequeña y que durará cuatro temporadas y serviría para que se creara un universo animado en torno a los héroes de DC.

Las cartas están lanzadas. Batman 3 es una realidad. Pero no va a ser lo que se espera de ella. Burton se mantiene como productor, pero no como director, labor que recae en Joel Schumacher. En cuanto al papel principal, Keaton dice que ya no quiere ser Batman; el guión no le gusta, se vuelve sutilmente al Batman de los 60 y eso no va con él. Así que Schumacher le ofrece el papel a Val Kilmer que acepta, para luego dar mil millones de quebraderos de cabeza a todo el mundo en el set.

Se va viendo que la película tiene más colorines que las dos anteriores. Una cosa decisiva al respecto: En este film sale Robin. Chris O´Donell será el chico maravilla.

Todo es distinto, nada es igual. Se rediseña Gotham, con más colores, más pulp todo. Se cambia el precioso Batmovil que diseñara Anton Furst para BATMAN y se ridiculiza a los villanos hasta puntos insultantes. Dos Caras, interpretado por Tommy Lee Jones, es un estúpido, un calco del Joker, solo que con media cara desfigurada. El otro villano de la cinta, porque en esta película todo pretende ir a lo grande, es Enigma, al que da vida Jim Carrey. Probablemente Carrey es el único que está algo metido en el papel, pero no lo suficiente. Nicole Kidman hace las veces de chica en apuros con diálogos estúpidos como nunca vistos en el cine… Lo peor de todo, no hay duda, son los dichosos pezones. El Bat-traje tiene pezones!!!!! Sin duda un film para olvidar.

El film, estrenado como Batman Forever,  recauda lo suficiente para que Warner siga frotándose las manos. Quieren Batman 4. Lo peor está por llegar.

Schumacher hizo suya la franquicia de Batman. Pero lo hizo para mal. Si ya en este Forever, Gotham se teñía de colorines lo que está por venir, es el ridículo a la enésima potencia…

(Continuará…)

When Werner Herzog’s remake/sequel of Abel Ferrera’s Bad Lieutenant was announced, it gave Internet cynics fodder for an endless stream of articles chuckling over how absurd the whole project was. Was this ridicule triggered by the potential folly of recreating a project as uncompromising as Ferrera’s original? Was it the standard cineaste’s resistance to recycling older movies, or the thought of recycling something made so recently? Or was it that Herzog had cast Nicolas Cage? Without a frame being shot it was already being heralded as a disaster, as if Herzog’s legendary take-no-prisoners attitude had suddenly metamorphosed into some kind of dementia. When the trailer arrived the derisory laughter increased. Cage’s reputation as the bad movie actor du jour has become so entrenched in popular thinking that the obviously intentional humour of the trailer was treated as evidence that Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans was another Wicker-Man-style disaster waiting to happen. The reality is that Herzog’s crime drama will more than likely disappoint those who were hoping for a failure, but thrill everyone else.

Cage portrays Terrence McDonagh, a police detective who inherits the mantle of Bad Lieutenant after injuring himself during a post-Katrina rescue. After this quick origin story we see McDonagh in the grip of an addiction to painkillers and coke, deep in debt and stealing drugs from criminals. The only thing that separates him from the perps he chases is his dedication to the job, especially his determination to bring to justice the drug kingpin Big Fate (Alvin “Xzibit” Joiner) who he suspects is responsible for the murder of an immigrant family. So far, so Keitel. McDonagh, however, is lucky enough to have a girlfriend (Frankie, played by Cage’s Ghost Rider co-star Eva Mendes) who just so happens to be a prostitute on a downward spiral of her own. Though neither of them are particularly admirable people, they seem to care for each other. As they become more absorbed into a depraved world, this connection seems to be the one thing that might save them.

The similarity to Ferrera’s original is obvious, but whereas that movie was harrowing and dark, Herzog brings an unexpected sense of possibility and even joy to this tale. Avoiding the tortured and oppressive air of Catholic guilt that made the original so distinctive, Herzog gives McDonagh a chance at redemption that doesn’t revolve around appeasing an indifferent God, and thus generates a sense of unexpected uplift. Additionally, while Ferrera set his movie in a decaying New York, Herzog takes metaphorical advantage of New Orleans’ recent history and the attempts of the citizens to rebuild their city, efforts that echo McDonagh’s own. Even at its darkest Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is filmed in almost constant brightness, and it helps that Herzog has filled the supporting cast with amusing eccentrics played by terrific character actors like Vondie Curtis Hall, Jennifer Coolidge, Fairuza Balk, Michael Shannon, and Brad Dourif. Also included is a subdued and underused Val Kilmer as a cop lacking even McDonagh’s vanishing moral core.

All act as amusing foils for Cage, but special mention must be made of Shea Whigham as abusive mob goon Justin who appears midway through the film to abuse Frankie. His dopey attitude and woozily delivered threats are sure-fire crowd-pleasers. Perhaps that’s the most surprising thing about Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Even though the trailer featured a number of amusing moments, the refreshingly breezy tone of the movie is a surprise, even though it features murder, sexual abuse, drug-taking, and old-lady-menacing. While Ferrera was determined to send the viewer to hell with Keitel, Herzog takes a cue from William Finkelstein’s script and makes a movie that does all it can to send the audience home with a smile on its face. The lackadaisical approach does come at the cost of narrative momentum: several scenes in the movie meander without purpose, which is something you wouldn’t expect from a seasoned TV writer who has worked on L.A. Law, NYPD Blue and Murder One, though the demented elements of the movie seem to tally with his work on lost TV classic Cop Rock:

It’s possible Finkelstein was partly responsible for the unconventional plotting, but even so, Herzog has little interest in the usual rhythms of crime dramas, happily chasing diversions or playing genre conventions for absurd laughs. He’s smart enough to keep an eye on the needs of the plot — especially the question of how out of control McDonagh actually is, which leads to some satisfying surprises in the final act — and to make sure we see the depressed human behind the outrageous bad behaviour of our protagonist, but he also has a need to drop in random instances of The Weird, often involving animals. A crocodile gets a memorable cameo, but it’s the iguanas that will stay with you when you leave the cinema. Nothing can prepare you for the already legendary Iguana-Cam. Herzog will be pleased to know that this scene brought the house down at the London Film Festival screening we attended. It is a completely deranged moment, a perfectly timed comedic aside, and impossible to forget. (If you wish to experience this scene in its proper context, avoid this clip until you’ve seen the movie.)

Herzog’s unpredictable take on the genre would not work without a strong performance at the core of it, and he is lucky to have Cage on his side. Herzog has found an actor of almost Kinski-esque intensity to guide his movie, someone who understands exactly what he wants and can collaborate as an equal, if this interview is to be believed. It often feels as if each of these imaginative artists has goaded the other on to greater weirdness. Nevertheless, even when the movie threatens to disappear into a cloud of peculiarity, their intelligence brings us back from the brink. Even the most formally or narratively daring moments in the film feel right, as if the movie couldn’t have been made any other way; eccentricity without the desperate quirkiness of a lesser filmmaker like, say, Richard Kelly. Without Herzog the movie would probably have stayed on a familiar genre path, and without Cage Herzog would have been forced to work with someone lacking in the ability to fuse madness with sincerity. Their collaboration is truly fortuitous.

Much has been made of Cage’s manic scenes, which range in tone from darkly funny to troubling, and sometimes both simultaneously. (Again, skip this if you wish to remain unspoiled.)

Less has been said about the humanity of Cage’s performance. While never having a scene as memorable and cathartic as Keitel’s astonishing breakdown in church from the original movie, Cage litters the movie with panicky moments where we get a glimpse of a man who knows he has gone astray. While Harvey Keitel’s lieutenant seems barely aware of his soul’s need for salvation until he collapses in church, McDonagh seems to know things have gone wrong and tries to correct this. Fans of Ferrera’s movie might complain that the remake loses focus by showing a man consciously scrambling to get back to a state of virtue, but what would Herzog gain from replicating Keitel’s downward trajectory? McDonagh’s desire for absolution generates a tension between his goals and his actions that powers what would otherwise be a fragmented and unsatisfying movie.

Cage brilliantly portrays McDonagh’s regression into a state of adolescent impulsiveness. His colleagues and acquaintances seem baffled or annoyed by his delinquent behaviour — both his unintentional outbursts and the rare moments when he harnesses his weird energy to do good –and only Frankie seems to want to help him. Casting Eva Mendes — a naturally charming actress capable of more than she is usually given to do — is another of Herzog’s masterstrokes. Her chemistry with Cage was one of the few truly great things to come out of Mark Steven Johnson’s terrible Ghost Rider.

This is easily the most layered and entertaining work Cage has done since Adaptation — not to mention his most likeable performance — and is enough to trigger hope of a new great Age of Cage. Even some of his more eccentric choices — such as suddenly imitating Ed Sullivan for about twenty minutes and then stopping with no explanation — make a weird kind of sense by the end of the film. His work here runs the risk of being little more than a series of gimmicky outbursts, but it often transcends mere flash to become something more profound, both comedic and tragic. McDonagh has become possessed by something alien and primal — something so destructive it’s almost a form of demonic possession — and it is thrilling to see him battle against it to reclaim his soul. The final, unexpected image will warm even the hardest heart.

But hey, if that’s not enough to convince you to see the movie, just go for the iguanas. You’ll thank me.

The award winning documentary by Bryan Beasley and narrated by Val Kilmer will be featured at the Santa Fe Film Festival Dec 3 and Dec 5.

Get the details at Val Kilmer the Real Deal.com

The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is an upcoming film directed by Werner Herzog and starring Nicolas Cage. Filming began in July 2008 in Louisiana, and also around South Mississippi shooting some scenes at the Hollywood Casino in Bay St. Louis. The film will be released on November 20, 2009.

Drawing elements from the original film, The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans features a crooked cop (Nicolas Cage) who is a drug addict and takes sexual favors as bribes.

The main character is Terrence McDonagh, a New Orleans Police sergeant, who starts out as a good cop, receiving a medal and a promotion to lieutenant for heroism during Hurricane Katrina. During his heroic act, McDonagh injures his back and later becomes addicted to prescription pain medication. McDonagh struggles with addictions and finds himself involved with drug dealer Big Fate, who is suspected of murdering a family of African immigrants.

Cast

• Nicolas Cage as Terrence McDonagh, the bad lieutenant.
• Eva Mendes as Frankie Donnenfeld, a prostitute and Terrence’s love interest.
• Val Kilmer – Stevie Pruit
• Brad Dourif – Ned Schoenholtz
• Xzibit – Big Fate
• Fairuza Balk – Heidi
• Jennifer Coolidge – Genevieve
• Michael Shannon – Mundt
• Vondie Curtis Hall
• Shawn Hatosy – Armand Benoit
• Denzel Whitaker – James Brasser
• Shea Whigham – Justin
• Katie Chonacas – Tina
• Jamie Berry – Stars as the ‘Lieutenant’ as a young child.
• J. Omar Castro – Narcotics Detective
• Robert Pavlovich – Dr. Milburn
• Jeremy Johnson – Detective

Release Date: November 20, 2009

BLACK KNIGHT ?