It's not like I don't see the reasoning here

Because I do. I get it. He just "won" on that deplorable show (top rated and one of the worst offerings by far), so putting him on the cover helps keep him and his probably soon to be available debut album in the public mind. But seriously? This guy? Wentworth Miller and Jake Gyllenhaal I get, but this is too much.

It's not like he's one of these two guys. Redford and Newman really aren't ones I typically go in for, although I do appreciate their old-school movie star charisma. But, let's not kid our selves: these two look damn good here.

A Prairie Home Companion (2006)

Premise: The last performance of an old fashioned radio variety show, hosted by GK (Garrison Keillor) and populated by such characters as 30s-style detective Guy Noir (Kevin Kline); singing sisters Rhonda (Lily Tomlin) and Yolanda (Meryl Streep), and Yolanda's suicidally minded daughter, Lola (Lindsay Lohan); and cowboy duo Dusty (Woody Harrelson) and Lefty (John C. Reilly). All are awaiting the appearance of the Axeman (Tommy Lee Jones), while Guy pursues the femme fatale (Virginia Madsen) he's been waiting for all these years.

Let it be known that I have never once listened to screenwriter Garrison Keillor's radio show. I hear good things, but, well, I wouldn't even know how to find it here. So, there's that.

But Robert Altman doing what only Robert Altman can? Being perfectly in his element? That's what film-making's about.

Metaphors for Keillor's voice and Altman's style abound, and I am wary of throwing my hat in for either. I will say that Altman excels in creating a feeling of camaraderie, of familiarity, of warmth, of kindness, and of family between everyone that crosses the screen from the bit players to once-rising starlets* to the Greatest Living Actress.**

*Now it's more like the star accidentally hit something and has veered tragically off course. Don't you realize that I wanted to like you?

**of Her Generation. The necessity of the caveat depends on who you ask.

To call the plot secondary to the characters is being generous (at least in this case), but it doesn't really matter when it looks like this much fun. Barely anything "happens," and Altman, through his tremendous cast, can move the viewer from hysterical laughter to tears in a split-second. Everyone seems so natural that even the occasional jar is quickly forgotten, replaced almost instantly by another beautiful memory. A-

P.S. At least one woman in the audience thought she should sing along. Hard to resist joining her. Must get soundtrack.

Oh, Bloomers

There's no love lost between Orlando Bloom and I, to say the least. I think very little of him as an actor and even less of him as an individual human being with feelings, except, of course, to further my theory that Orlando Bloom is a) a woman, b) possibly Keira Knightley, and c) a sign of the Apocalypse. I'd go into the whole thing, but it involves 16th century paintings and Virginia Woolf novels, and I doubt you'd appreciate the genius anyhow.

And yet, somehow, I feel compelled to follow his career. Worse yet, I seem to know an inordinate amount about "his" personal life. So when this story came to my attention, do you know what I did? Laughed. Laughed hysterical and repeatedly, as though I cannot return to the story without laughing again. It all seems so improbable and wrong, and, yet . . . hilarious. And that picture? Not only does one of those people look like he is on spring break and the other like she has been locked away from daylight for the last century, but it looks like Bloomers has thrown his mug up in the lens, unaware of the frightened woodland creature next to him.

So thanks for that, Bloomers. And while I'm in a rare grateful mode, let's all give thanks to those programming geniuses over at the TVtropolis network (formerly Prime). Everyday after work I can enjoy Beverly Hills 90210. Today Dylan threw a vase and a fit on his first date with Brenda, and soon she will have a lump on her breast and a pregnancy scare, and later she and Kelly will become frenemies, but she'll save Kelly when Kelly nearly dies from her diet pill addiction. Oh, I love this show.

Friends With Money (2006)

Brief: Olivia (Jennifer Aniston) doesn't have money or a husband, but her three best friends do. Franny (Joan Cusack) is happily married to Matt (Greg Germann) and sets Olivia up with her trainer, Mike (Scott Caan). Christine (Catherine Keener) is unhappily married to her screenwriting partner David (Jason Isaacs) and assists Olivia in her product sample hoarding scheme. Jane (Frances McDormand) has stopped washing her hair because her arms get tired, and her husband, Aaron (Simon McBurney), may be gay.

Or at least everyone else seems to think he is.

Oh, Nicole Holofcener, I wish I could be you. Seriously. You are not only one of the few female filmmakers I can think of off the top of my head, but you are also unparalleled in the way you deal with women. Women in the Holofverse are complicated mixes of strong, weak, beautiful, and vulnerable. In a word, they are real. More real than most women you see on the screen, far more real that anyone woman you find in a rom-com. There they are always reduced to stereotypes filled out by women so beautiful that suspending disbelief becomes a Herculean feat.

Perhaps the best part of Holofcener's are the way they only follow the bare minimum of a plot. Plot, you see, isn't something that happens in a real person's life, and it doesn't so much happen in her movies. They're more episodic: she gets such lived in performances out of her actors (the combination of her and her staple, Keener, is nothing short of film magic) that you get the feeling that you are being dropped in the middle of something. Holofcener leaves you in there a while, lets you get to know her characters, gives you a feel for the places, the smells, the people, and then she plucks you not at the end but simply further down the middle. Problems aren't so much resolved as pushed along. People don't undergo the seismic changes you see in more "Hollywood" movies, but you do start to see cracks along the fault lines.*

*I know nothing about such things. That metaphor may be even worse than I think.

I think even less of Aniston than you might presume, so I am pleased to report that she holds her own in the face such enviable talent. She almost, almost, almost nearly sheds her perfect pop princess image for long enough for Olivia to resonate. It's actually what the leads do around Olivia that fill in the necessary details of her performance, but it goes a long way to putting her sitcom days behind her. Of course, I understand that The Break Up undid most or all of this good work, but I still regard it as a start.

Right now the comment on IMDb is "So What?" "So what," kid? This is the "so, what" of life. It's the "so what" of being a woman. If this film is bold, the boldness is found in its honesty. Perhaps that's just too much for some. B+

Also, I recently screened I Love Your Work. I'm not sure I should have done that, and I'm not sure anyone else should either. Giovanni Ribisi leads a bizarre cast as a currently hot star married to another currently hot star (Franka Potente), has a sort of mental breakdown, and begins to remember a very different relationship with a very different girl (Christina Ricci). I spent the first 30-45 minute trying to figure out what the hell I was watching, the next half hour or so in a fugue state, and the final 30 wondering where co-writer/director Adam Goldberg was going with all of this and what was up with Rebel Without a Cause refs and red lighting. I'm left with nothing more than a dazed sensation and a generally vague response of "I guess I watched that." I'm still not entirely convinced that I did, but I must have.

The Lake House (2006)

No plot description as I have not seen The Lake House. It doesn't come out until next Friday, but I'm going to tell you about it anyway.

I'm going to tell you that . . . I hate The Lake House. I hate it. Every time I see a TV spot, which contains all I need to know about this monstrosity, I get worked up and yell at the TV.

Forget the fact I neither buy Keanu Reeves as an architect nor Sandra Bullock as a doctor (well, maybe a pediatrician. Is she a pediatrician in this movie?). Forget the fact that, because I am evil, I spent unaccounted-for minutes giggling at the sight of scores of publicity photos of Keanu Reeves sitting around reading letters and Sandra Bullock looking out the window looking pensive/sad, although I guarantee that those two things make up, like, 67% of the movie.

It's the following line that gets me every time: "We're living two years apart."

And Bullock sounds so horrified and sad at the prospect that you would think that she, a lady doctor, just found out that she has prostate cancer.

Because, seriously, if you are both that in love and are aware of this problem, then what is the big deal? Just have him meet up with you at the lake house at some future time after you have already fallen in love and get together in real life. And, you know, run through the obits from the last two years and make sure he doesn't die between now and then. See? Easy-peasy.

I mean, I saw one crappy-ass made-for-TV movie where the couple-in-love exchanging letters lived in the 1860s and the 1990s respectively, so there. That's way harder to reconcile and may have involved killing oneself and time travel. I don't think I watched the end.

So what I'm saying is thus: I know that romances are predictable, but I really shouldn't have been able to a) figure it all out during a commercial and b) come to a solution during that time. Seriously, took me 15-30 seconds, and now the industry wants me to spend ten Jack Trippers and one hundred-odd minutes suffering through more? No.

And, while we're here, Alison Gillmor asks, Whither the rom-com?

This is why the Interweb was created

So that stupid people like me could link to the stupid things that stupid people wrote and made available to the public.

Stupid thing of the moment: 50 Greatest Conservative Rock Songs.

What's that you say? Conservative rock? Well, then, let's get some Bob Dylan on that list! Some Sex Pistols! Let's tell people that Aerosmith's "Janie's got a gun" is a stirring anthem about a women's right to bear arms!

Yeah.

I know, I know, what about the movies, Elfin April? To which I say: if I could sort out my feelings about 3 Needles, I would surely share them with you.

X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)

Short: Having discovered a "cure" (Cameron Bright) for the Mutant X gene, mutants of all kinds must take a side, either with the Brotherhood led by Magneto (Ian McKellen), or with the X-Men under Charles Xavier (Patrick Stewart). Meanwhile, Jean Grey (Famke Janssen) emerges from her watery grave as her alter ego, Phoenix.

Comic books have to be the best example of marketing to your base. Seriously, think about the standard superhero model: a nerdy adolescent suddenly discovers that he has supernatural powers, finally gets the attention of the girl he's been pining for, saves humanity. It's the highly intensified equivalent of getting through high school, with added attraction for social outcasts of all creeds.

Of course, X-Men takes it one step further. Putting mutants on the fringes gives their stories a built-in allegorical base that draws from the Holocaust, slavery and segregation, homosexuality, disability, and whatever other maginalization you can think of. And the sad but true fact? The contemporary world never ceases to provide the story with fodder.

For me, the characters and the political undercurrent are part of what sets X-Men apart. The first movie, while not among my favourite comic book-silver screen adaptations, was practically a guidebook for how to do it right. By the time Bryan Singer made his way to the sequel, he set a heretofore undiscovered benchmark: a second movie better than the original.

So, when he walked away to helm Superman Returns (a movie which, to be honest, looks not so good), I thought the trilogy might have to take a little break. But, oh no, the studio had to bring in a scab: Brett Ratner. Yes, the very director that had vacated the chair for Bryan Singer on the Clark Kent front.

You know what? They should have waited. Though Ratner has a good handle on action, the rest of the movie feels cut off at the knees. All the wit, warmth, intelligence, and political savvy is dumbed down or removed entirely and replaced with macho bluster. The real Wolverine wouldn't have to make a dumb testicles joke because we already know what a big pair he has (confidential to Hugh Jackman: what do they stuff in those jeans?).

That's where this movie is aimed: groin level. Nothing for the head or the heart. Instead, let's focus on the animal attraction between Logan and Jean. That seems like a good idea.

As for the grade, it's somewhere in the B to C range. If you weren't that attached to the ideas to begin with and aren't looking for more than a popcorn action flick, you could do worse. But for those of us who care, well, we'd better hope that Magneto and Wolverine end up in more capable hands. C+

Okay, here's the part where I sort of dance around certain issues I have with the movie without trying to give them away entirely. A) He's the only one, really? Because I would think Rogue would be the better choice, if they could only get her close enough. There was ample time, too, while she was just standing around. B) I get why she would go that way, but that was always my problem with the movies. Her other powers at least gave her something to do. Instead we get an ending that make sense but fails to resonate because Ratner wouldn't give it time to.

P.S. Palpable lack of Ben Foster. Ben, remember when you were Tucker on Flash Forward? Me, too. Love ya!

Beowulf & Grendel (2005)

Brief: One fine sunny day, King Hrothgar (Stellan Skarsgård) and his men kill Grendel's father. Grendel (Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson) swears vengeance, and, when he grows up, seeks to take it against all of Daneland. Beowulf (Gerard Butler) hears of the king's troubles and leaves Gaetland with his men to rid the neighbouring kingdom of the violent troll. Beowulf begins to have his doubts about the troll's motivations, however, and his relationship with the witch, Selma (Sarah Polley), only adds to his confusion over the situation. Of course, by the time Beowulf discovers that Grendel's concerns are legitimate, he, too, hath incurred Grendel's wrath.

I still can't figure out whether it would have helped to read the epic poem on which this movie is based beforehand. I would have been able to comment on how closely it sticks to the source, and I would have been in a position to better understand the kind of story I was walking into. But I didn't read it, so I knew pretty much what I put in the plot description.

I can honestly boil down the entire experience into four reactions:
1. This is sad.
2. What the fuck? (giggles)
3. Oh, okay.
4. I hate this bitch.

A little more detail? Oh, alright. Just for you.

1. Because Hrothgar kills the troll daddy for no reason at all. And there are about eight or ten of them who take him on with weapons while he is unarmed. The trolls are presented as peaceful and family-oriented with these crazy horsemen of the apocalypse coming after them. So it's sad, okay?

2. Oh, man. In the first act, this movie is as earnest as it gets. And you know what's funny? A movie that really wants to be a grand epic tale. Dude, you already are an epic! Stop trying so hard. Stop with your over-the-top Gladiator style score, Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson. Stop with your panoramic scenery, Jan Kiesser. Personally, I would have gone with romanticizing the people who survive in a land so inhospitable over romanticizing the hinterland itself, but I guess we can't all see it that way.

3. Fortunately, the movie magically dropped its far-too-serious tone pretty much with the introduction of Beowulf, and it wasn't a nanosecond too soon. Butler appears with a baritone that makes people weak in the knees, confident without arrogance, smart withot condescension, a warrior with conscience and heart. And an impish grin. And charisma. And that voice.

And just like that! An pretty decent movie begins, with complex charterization and intelligence. Too bad it also had a bad case of Tourette's. Not to make fun of people with Tourette's, but I don't what else to call it. The script goes from lines like, "Where did that action have its birth?" to fucking this and fucking that in a matter of seconds. Never mind the four-letter word pottymouth Selma lets fly. Speaking of . . .

4. Hate. It's not you, Polley; I don't blame you one bit. But what exactly am I supposed to feel for this character? Sympathy? I get that Selma's got a lot to be bitter about, I do. I can see why she wants to stay away from everyone else and cares about the troll everyone else hates. It's just too bad that she's such a cryptic bitch. She may be weary of the effect she can have over someone's destiny (she sees people's deaths), but she also does all she can to make sure that the deplorable cycle repeats itself. And for no reason, really. Other than the fact that she's a cryptic bitch. Ugh.

If you forgive the earnest beginning and aren't squeamish, I suspect you'll like the 103 minute escape. I may be just be nit-picking, and it's not half bad. B

The Notorious Bettie Page (2005)

Idea: Following a series of less than desirable living situations, Bettir Page (Gretchen Mol) moves to New York to try her hand at acting. Discovered on the beach one day by amateur photographer Jerry Tibbs (Kevin Carroll), he introduces Bettie to the world of photography and the severe bang that became part of her trademark. Eventually, Bettie meets sister and brother team Irving (Chris Bauer) and Paula (Lili Taylor) Klaw, who produced some of Bettie's most famous work.

Once upon a time, I went to see a little movie called Rounders. There was this supporting actress in it, Matt Damon's on-screen love interest, and she was terrible. Take-you-out-of-the-movie-if-Edward-Norton-weren't-also-around-I'd-leave terrible. There was nothing there. Nothing. If this young lady was in a movie, I avoided it like the plague.

When Vanity Fair excitedly put her on the cover and her career promptly tanked, I was delighted. Not because I want to see others suffer (unless they are fictional) but because I wanted her to stop making me suffer.

Five years later, I saw her in another movie, and she wasn't too bad. Other people were better, but she didn't manage to ruin it for me. Mind you, I wouldn't have said I was open to giving her another chance. I just wasn't as actively against her career as I once was.

Naturally, I could only be talking about one person: Gretchen Mol. So why see this picture?

For one, pedigree. Mary Harron (director/co-writer) and Guinevere Turner (co-writer) are the exact team that so deliciously brought American Psycho to the screen. I already believed in Bale as an actor, and the movie helped put him on the map. (Sadly it would take another five years for him to step into the limelight, but I'm dealing with that.)

For two, everyone that I trusted was saying that this was a star turn for Mol. And you know what? It is. She nails the way Bettie could play naiveté and control in the same turn. Bettie managed to appear available and untouchable in her photographs, and Mol embodies that vixenish quality in her performance.

As such, it's a shame that Harron and Turner didn't make enough of a movie to back Mol up. They dance around their subject, vaguely filling in a few background details but never diving any deeper than Bettie's photo persona would allow. She was nude without every appearing naked, and the movie simply offers much of the same.

They do move it along at a good clip, though. That's something. And they had one helluva supporting cast. B+

I saw . . . this: Part I

IFC has these great commercials for fake movies that are obviously le suck, which eventually dissolve so that they can remind you that life's too short for movies that suck, so you must watch IFC. One of the great features of the commercials are pseudo-comments from non-reviews, including the one above.

Of course, that one kind of reminds me of my own rule regarding the review of classic pictures on this thing here. I like to tack a few sentences on from time to time to let you know that I am still watching and thinking somewhat critically. I decided that I could also string a bunch of them together to inform you that I had, indeed, seen this. So, here's my first whack at it.

All the President's Men (1976)

This was one of the best movies I have ever seen. The story of how two young reporters cracked Watergate is already well publicized (including in their book, which was the basis for the screenplay), so, really, how much could someone do with this movie? Well, director Alan J. Pakula could create the most tense film I have ever see. There's nothing particularly clever or innovative about the story-telling, camera angles, or lenses, but it forces you to the edge of your seat and keeps you there. It's not just one of the most relevant looks at the how of political cover-ups; its story of journalistic integrity and perseverance against a monolithic and faceless foe is the most relevant movie for today.

Barefoot in the Park (1967)

The Neil Simon play turned film may be a light confection, as free spirited as its female lead (played with wonderful charm by Jane Fonda), but it is also delightful, sort of the filmic equivalent of cotton candy: there one minute, dissolved the next, leaving no trace but not forgotten. Redford may exist is a bizarre charismatic chemistry vacuum, but it's a joy to see him try to hold his own against the force that is Fonda.

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974)

The problem with putting DVDs on one's Zip list and having months, perhaps even a year, lapse before they arrive in one's mailbox is as follows: one tends to forget the movie. See, I thought this movie, one of Martin Scorsese's earlier works that earned eponymous protagonist Ellen Burstyn a Best Actress Oscar, was about a woman who took her son and left her abusive husband, working as a waitress and singer to make money and provide a stable home for her son. They move around a lot, and her dependence on him grows. Eventually, he goes off to college, and she breaks down, losing all sense of her self, and spouting the title line.

Not so much. Her husband dies, and the moving and working stuff is true. But the growing up and going crazy stuff? Not so much. More like finding space for others in the life of a fiercely independent work in this intelligent pro-feminist tale.

Because I care. No, really. Well, at least more than you think.

My current supervisor, who rocks pretty hard, has 4 kids of, shockingly enough, varying ages. And (again, this may come as a surprise to you) not every movie is appropriate for each kid or any of them. I told her that there were online movie guides to help parents navigate the treacherous minefield that is modern movie going, and I decided to add a link in the sidebar to one I like. It's called Kids in Mind, and they rate the Sex & Nudity, Violence & Gore, and Profanity for each movie they review on a scale of 1 to 10. They also break down things like substance abuse and messaging on a case-by-case basis. All in all, it seems like a pretty comprehensive list and a good one at that.


I'm not under the impression that a lot of people with young children read my blog or that high minded young children themselves read it. Nonetheless, even people my age and older could do with a guide like this from time to time to help them stay away from their personal filmic sore spots.

"See this face? My over-the-moon face."

YES!!! Yes, yes, yes! I can't attribute this small but highly important victory to anyone in particular, but I have just read a bit of news that is cause for jubilation: My beloved Veronica Mars isn't going anywhere! That's my little show that could!

Yay to not being cancelled! Yay to Gilmore Girls being your lead-in, as predicted by one Elfin April. The quality of that show may have gone down the crapper, but I will keep watching it just for you, baby. Just for you.

Now I can only hope, pray, and continuously lobby for a Canadian network to pick you up for simulcasting in your third season. A long shot, I know, but so were you, sister.

Very special thank go out to Emily, Sarah, Madison, Kelsa, and anyone else who signed that petition. Again, can't be sure if that noise made a difference, but your help made one to me. Oh, look at me getting soft in the wake of such glad tidings.

The Year of Living Dangerously (1982)

Summary: Guy Hamilton (Mel Gibson) arrives in Jakarta on his first foreign correspondent post with ABS in 1959. The country is on the brink of civil war. He meets a Chinese cinematographer, Billy Kwan (Linda Hunt), who introduces him to the assistant to the British military attache, Jilly (Sigourney Weaver). As Billy engineers a romance between Guy and Jilly, the country crumbles, and death becomes an eminent possibility for all of them.

Listen, I may have gotten some of that world history stuff up there wrong. If there I is one thing I am not, it's a world history buff. Deal.

Let's talk about what a stupid lie the title is. They don't live dangerously for anything approaching a year. The movie seems to take about a year to watch, but the people in it only live dangerously for a whopping three weeks. Oooo! Tough!

And, to be honest, they don't live all that dangerously until the last three days or so. Again, what is the meaning of this? When you live that dangerously, it takes a year off your life? Girl, please. I live more dangerously than that when I forget to look both ways crossing the street.

As for the central romance, it doesn't start until two-thirds of the way into the movie, and it never really gets off the ground after that. And then suddenly crazy Billy's narration, whose creepiness only increased by just now learning that it was a woman in drag the whole damn time, is blathering on about Guy's "addiction to risk" and how he's going to lose Jilly by putting his career ahead of her. Again, girl, please. He's addicted to risk after three weeks? Two of which were boring and uneventful? My eye. The only one addicted to anything was Billy to his/her overwrought and unnecessary narration. By the time Billy was freaking out and going all The Shining on his/her typewriter, I was kind of hoping the rebels would round at least one of them up and shoot them.

Someone, after all, needed to put these people out of their misery. It's nice to have a fling when you are leaving the country, but must you be so dramatic about it? D

Mission: Impossible III (2006)

Roman numerals are always classier.

Story: Having found love with Julia (Michelle Monaghan), Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) has elected to train agents instead of being involved in active field work himself, but, when one of his recruits, Lindsay Ferris (Keri Russell) is kidnapped by her mark, Owen Davian (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), Ethan joins a team (Ving Rhames, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Maggie Q) to recover her. Lindsay reveals to Ethan that someone higher up in IMF may be in league with Davian.

Back before Em and I hit the theatres for M:I II, I read a review that began, "Anything James Bond can do, Ethan Hunt can do better." The statement pretty much said everything we needed to know about that movie that followed: John Woo had turned what began as an interesting and fairly intelligent movie into a cheese fest. In this case, it was a cheese fest so bad it parodied itself. (Confidential to John Woo: what's with the birds?)

What were we to do when we heard that M:I III was in the works? That Phillip Seymour Hoffman has signed on (pre-awards frenzy)? That JRM and Billy Crudup were going to be around? That that Felicity/Alias/Lost guy was going to direct the whole shebang?

Largely ignore it, it seemed. PSH alone was reason to see the affair, but it certainly wouldn't be enough to tell you about it.

Oh, but then, my friends, the media frenzy. The whirlwind courtship with a young starlet, the pregnancy, the crazed guest appearances, the alien baby. Tom Cruise has, in the space of a year, done something remarkable: he's become necessary.

Yes, you are at the right page. No need to rub your eyes in disbelief. Truth be told, I've never thought much of Tom Cruise as an actor. Mostly because, despite those elaborate back stories he creates for each character, the research he puts into his roles, the appearance on my beloved Inside the Actor's Studio, Tom Cruise is not an actor. Tom Cruise is a movie star. Tom Cruise has middling talent, accessible good looks, and screen presence. And, frankly, that's all he needed. So Tom Cruise climbed and climbed and climbed until he became the most famous and bankable movie star on the planet. He's Tom Cruise: Celebrity.

Of course, as far back as I remember, Tom Cruise also had another thing: one helluva press team. Tom Cruise had one of the most perfectly presented and meticulously well kept public persona of any celebrity ever. He was Tom Cruise: affable action hero. He was Tom Cruise: husband and father. He was Tom Cruise: most eligible bachelor. He was sweet and charming and down to earth. All-in-all, the kind of guy you could take home to your mother (minus the Scientology, natch).

Quite suddenly, he wasn't. He was Tom Cruise: full time crazy! And thus, my favourite celebrity was born. Not my favourite actor or public figure or personality, but my favourite celebrity. He's everything you want from a celebrity: a non-stop press party of wild insanity, one stunt topping the next. He's a movie come to life. That's dedication, my friend.

As such, I had an obligation to go see this movie. I had to support the career of my new celebrity best friend, Tom Cruise. M:I II was the first Tom Cruise vehicle I had ever seen during its theatrical run, but I knew it was time to bump that number up.

Of course, Em and I aren't complete idiots. We fully considered the possibility that this movie would suck. So we built on what we did last time. You see, we were able to learn some important lessons from the sequel (e.g. security guards all have motorcycles), and, by golly, we were going to learn some lessons this time around.

So, without further ado, we present our list of Very Important Lessons gleaned from M:I III:

1. Monaghan looks a little too much like Kat[i]e Holmes. I think Tom Cruise set out to warn the world about what would happen if they tried to mess with his girl. He does his own stunts, after all.
2. PSH cannot be reasoned with, and he does not negotiate.
3. JJ Abrams loves Greg Grunberg.
4. Tom Cruise hates parents.
5. All women want Tom Cruise.
6. Kids hate Tom Cruise.
7. Tom Cruise cannot refuse a damsel in distress.
8. Tom Cruise wants to recapture his Top Gun days on that motorcycle. True enough, I read somewhere that he was floating around sequel ideas. That's my boy!
9. The bad guy will only take you to a derelict warehouse. Do keep your shoes on, if possible.
10. Spin cameras make everything more exciting.
11. Tom Cruise has a strict limit on how many other pretty men may appear in the same movie as him, as well as on the screen at the same time. As such, at least one pretty man must be evil to diminish his prettiness.
12. Felicity is one tough bitch.
13. Felicity still hates Hannah. Scoop: I once read an interview with JJ Abrams about how difficult it was the plan one of the seasons of Felicity, and he thought it was much easier if Felicity was a secret agent who could fly off at a moment's notice, so the writers could deal with her problems later. Alias was born.
14. Bad guys hate clean, renewable energy.
15. Sprinklers are on in graveyards during interments.
16. SHAUN!
17. Tom Cruise hates Botox, which earned him a point from me.
18. Tom Cruise hates gravity.
19. Any priest can go anywhere in the Vatican.
20. Guards don't know each other.
21. All secret agents have great taste in eyewear. I think they have to take a course.
22. Tom Cruise doesn't fuck around.
* This one isn't really a lesson, but I had a thought. You know what I would like to see? 2 men enter, 1 will leave: Ethan Hunt v. Jack Bauer. Think about it.
23. Secret agents don't breathe oxygen nor are they susceptible to the changing pressure conditions at different altitudes.
24. There can only be one good black man at a time in the Impossible-verse.
25. Spray cheese is corrosive.
26. Tom Cruise has a steel spine.
27. Interrogatees don't get to talk.
28. Shanghai is in China.
29. JRM and obligatory female agent must have "sexual tension." They are, after all, of opposite sexes.
30. JJ Abrams loved M:I.
31. Tom Cruise loves Sister Sledge
32. Tom Cruise can only cry out of one eye. I wondered if the other one wasn't real.
33. Shaun rules!
34. Tom Cruise does the funky chicken.
35. If someone needs CPR, don't bother with compressions. Just start emotionally beating your first on his/her chest. Brings 'em back every time!

Sadly, there are two points that got lost due to the difficulty of writing in a darkened theatre.

Yes, I have failed differentiate between Tom Cruise and Ethan Hunt. Don't see the difference, really. I could point to evidence for each one of those points, by the by, but I'm not going to spoil it for you. Really, what you should do is print out the list and take it to the theatre with you. Make a game of spotting the points! Support Tom Cruise, the most necessary man of our time!

Oh, okay, so that's Jon Stewart. But it's close, people. Very close.

What's that you say? What about the movie? Oh, perfectly enjoyable, light-hearted popcorn fare. Nothing to take your five year-olds to (ahem, idiots who sat in front of us) for there is violence and swearing and sexiness, but there are much worse ways to spend a couple of hours. B+

P.S. Best credits song, right after V for Vendetta.

Brick (2005)

Premise: Brendan (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) receives a mysterious phone call from his ex, Emily (Emilie de Ravin), and he follows the trail to her body. With the help of The Brain (Matt O'Leary), he sets out to find her killer, getting mixed up with two femme fatales (Nora Zehetner and Meagan Good) and a handful of dealers on varying levels of the ladder.

Did I mention that it's set in a SoCal high school?

Truth be told, when it comes to topsy-turvy intrigue, melodrama, meta-referencing, off-the-wall pop culture references, indecipherable slang, and the strange interconnectedness of all things, high school is the perfect setting. As for a sleek noir thriller, well, that's where Rian Johnson (writer/director) gets bonus points for originality in his feature length debut.

I'd make some sort of Dashiell Hammett/Sam Spade comparison for our protagonist, but I've already read it in enough reviews to suspect it's in the press packet. Nonetheless, JGL makes good on his sensational turn in Mysterious Skin, providing another rich and deeply etched performance of the loneliest teenage boy, this time with more motivation and a more sinister streak.

Nathan Johnson's score threw me off my game at first (are those cowbells?), but it's quirky charms quickly grew on me.

That's another thing I'll say for Rian Johnson - unlike so many lesser films that populate cineplexs today, he didn't rely quirk to fill in the back story but did it through careful and subtle characterization and excellent shot choices. Score one for cinematographer Steve Yedlin as well.

And as for that final scene, watching his world silently implode, nothing short of brilliant. A-

The Red Violin (1998)

Premise: Nicolo Bussotti (Carlo Cecchi) prepares his finest violin for the birth of his son, as his wife, Anna (Irene Grazioli), has her fortune read. The violin passes hands over time and continents, to a wunderkind orphan (Kristoph Koncz) in Romantic Era Vienna to celebrated violinist Frederick Pope (Jason Flemyng) in Oxford to Xiang Pei (Sylvia Chang) during the Cultural Revolution before it settles in an auction house in present day Montréal to be authenticated by Charles Morritz (Samuel L. Jackson).

Before I go on, allow me to point out that above still isn't from the movie. I couldn't find one that I liked, so I just went with one that showcased the film's co-writer and director, an autere of the truest sort, François Girard. He had the idea of an object traveling through time and space, and this perfect violin was it. A film seven years in the making for which John Corigliano wrote the best movie score I have heard - one haunting theme slowly and uniquely developed as though it was meant to be with the violin always.

It's difficult to conjure up the words for a movie so perfect that even Bertha Rochester, try as she might, couldn't break its spell. It's astonishing and awe-inspiring and beautiful in all the best ways that a movie could be, from the opening shots of the violin schoolyard to the final frame of the credits. A+

Ask not what Elfin April can do for you

I know, I know. You hit up this blog everyday, maybe several times a day, and you think to yourself, "I want to do something for April. She's always freely dispensing her smart and sassy film advice, and what do I do for her? I'd like to do something nice that she'd appreciate. As long as it doesn't cost too much. And doesn't take too long. But otherwise, totally."

Well, gentle reader, have I got a deal for you: something that takes about 2 minutes and costs you nothing. It's free, baby! So! Easy!

See that image there at right? Well, that's my favourite show. It's called Veronica Mars. It's the new Buffy, only sadly, it doesn't even have Buffy's ratings. And here's the problem: now that UPN and the WB are merging, well, every damn show is up in the air. Especially this one. So, help me save it. Sign this here petition. That's it. If you're a speedy typer, you can do it inside of a minute.

I'm not exactly banking on this (do online petitions ever make any difference?), but it's not like I ask a lot of you. It's the best damn show on television, and it's my favourite, and I just want to keep watching such a wonderful collection of fine actors spouting clever dialogue and solving twisty mysteries. So, do me this props.

And, if you are feeling especially generous with your time, you can devote an entire hour to checking it out Tuesdays at 9 pm on UPN. There's only two episodes left this season, so you might get a little confused. Couch Baron will hook you up. He's good like that.

Woman's always got my back

I've been trying to figure out exactly what to say about a trailer so appalling, distasteful, and horrifying that I start squirming in my seat and wished the thing would swallow me whole. Those nice folks over at Slate are always quick with a word, but those words aren't enough for me. Trust Sobell to hit it once again:

I haven't the words for what I think of the impending United 93 movie, other than these: What do you think the entertainment industry thinks of you if they believe you'd prefer a manufactured narrative to the truthful reporting of events that aren't even five years old yet? (Click here for the source)

Or the only two words I can yet muster: too soon.

Tsotsi (2005)

Summary: When a young thug and leader of a small gang (Presley Chweneyagae), carjacks a woman and discovers her baby in the back seat, he decides to reform his life and raise the boy himself.

As much as I love movie trailers, sometimes they can really get in the way of things. This movie was great, but I had this slight problem. I could clearly remember one shot from trailer that kind of sucked all tension out of the movie for me. Had it not been so, though, than I would spend the rest of this review discussing how many layers of tension writer-director Gavin Hood weaves into such richly simple set pieces and sparse dialogue.

Perhaps what is most astonishing about Hood's direction is the stark performance he brings out in newcomer Chweneyagae. Chweneyagae makes Tsotsi so hard and unforgiving that it's easy to forget how young he is - younger than even yours truly. Yet he remains remarkably vulnerable, subtle, and, above all, sympathetic.

This film only has one strike against it. I have a hard time with movies that kill an animal or child just to advance the plot. I'm not talking Ordinary People-the-kid's-dead-and-that's-the-point killing a child or an animal; I'm talking about the Syriana-style lazy-writing-don't-know-how-do-this-otherwise. I'm not going to tell you which goes down here. It was painful to watch and wholly necessary.

Otherwise, compelling drama worth checking out. A-

Inside Man (2006)

Idea: Detective Keith Frazier (Denzel Washington) sees his chance to make first grade detective when he and his partner (Chiwetel Ejiofor) are assigned to a bank robbery turned hostage situation. Frazier thinks he's in control of the bank robber (Clive Owen) until the CEO (Christopher Plummer) hires Madeline White (Jodie Foster) to negotiate instead.

Of course, this movie could have just as easily starred Owen's voice, Washington's hat, and Foster's legs and had roughly the same effect.

Listen, I'm happy to get behind this whole "thrillers for adults" gambit. I'm happy enough to support a Spike Lee joint, especially if the critics seem to agree that it's a pretty savoury one.

Unfortunately, what this movie delivers could not be reasonably classified as "goods". Lee decided to direct like he had just graduated film school (which, wtf? I know you can do better than this), and the result was something so unfocused that it made me feel sick sitting in the back row. I mean literally unfocused. As in, the camera wasn't frequently in focus, the angles were all wrong, and the shots made little sense a lot of the time. You know the way Lee comes across as a smug prick in interviews? I never minded all that much before because it's not like I have to sit next to him while I watch the movie. Sadly, with this he appears to have finally figured out how to get that attitude to translate directly into his films.

Washington, et al, are their general well done selves, but I probably would preferred it if Owen and Washington had come off as reasonably matched. I'm not going to tell you who the movie favours, but I warn you that it comes across as ridiculously unfair to watch. Also, every once and a while I kind of wished that Ejiofor was the star.

Also also, the music was terrible. Yes, Terrence Blanchard, counterpoint is nice. Unfortunately, it has have a point other than one of distracting me from the movie given how out of place it is.

Just a disappointment. C