Pop Culture Round-Up: January 10 - 16

Criticism in crisis is back in full force: LA Weekly's theatre critic shifts to "Critic-At-Large" [shudder], and LA's Daily Breeze has dropped their theatre critic as well. Is there no theatre in LA? That doesn't sound right.

But what if you are in the target demo, and you don't watch any of those shows? Who's targeting me?

What? Do I really have to reconsider my slight obsession with returned Nazi art? Mind, I would like there to be some sort of condition that requires the art to be donated to a period of time to the museum of the rightful owners choice. Being too poor to go around buying expensive art, I never saw the point of keeping it locked away.

I'm not looking forward to many of these. Surely 2009 has more to offer?

Adieu.

That's true -- what did happen there?

There should be more rapping about that show.

When Gossip Girl asked us on Monday, "Does anyone remember Georgina?", the correct answer was, "Yes, the writers." Girl better get hooked up with Agnes and stir that shit up.

"A couple of songs this year, we wanted to do particular styles, like a club tune, and we wanted to do a West Side Story-type musical song." I can only hope this leads to the return of angry dancing, which is only a step away from dance fighting.

Pretty much anyone associated with Supernatural already has a good reputation with me.

People, do not deny yourselves Slumdog Millionaire. Even if you don't like it.

What the hell? That's a mistake. This, however, is not. Actually, it might be. If Spider-Man 3 taught me anything, it's that having multiple villains doesn't always work. Mind you, it worked just fine for Batman Returns.

I am going to see this one.

There's nothing about this that isn't funny.

For our tough economic times.

Huh, what? Actually, I think that's alright.

Ooo, I think I might like that. Of course, I'd like it a lot better if the stupid fuckers at the alphabet network weren't such stupid fuckers to begin with.

Oh, what the hell? Grow up, Parents Television Council.

I'm not sure how exciting a LINCOLN SMASH-less TV season will be, but I'm okay.

Yay! But why isn't it about Eric?

I'm all about 2, 7, 14, 15, and 17. As for five, it's occurred to me recently that it might be a better soundtrack than it is a movie.

GAH! Is there nothing this man can't or doesn't do? I'm beginning to think that he thinks that he's Peter the Great reborn.

Phew.

Okay, I've keep silent over this one because when your favourite (living) actor quits acting, it's little like your (movie) boyfriend breaking up with you from out of nowhere. I had some stages of grief to go through. I'm (mostly) okay with it now. He remains a prime candidate for my burgeoning celebrity interventionist* career with news like this, though. What kind of crap friend is Casey? He doesn't stop him from going out in public looking like Vincent Gallo, and he can't even be bothered to help him figure out right from left.

'Tis the season:

LAFCA winners.

BAFTA nominees.

Golden Tomato Awards.

*N.B.: This isn't for the type of problem that would land you on Intervention. We deal with more celebrity-specific issues like how to style your hair for public viewing, considering pants, and, apparently, when to keep your dreams of becoming a rapper to yourself.

The Reader (2008)

Brief: A chance encounter leads to an affair between a teen, Michael Berg (David Cross), and an older trolley worker, Hanna Schmitz (Kate Winslet). Years later while at law school, Michael attends a war crimes tribunal to find Hanna on trial for her time as a guard at Auschwitz.

If I tell you that the performances are uniformly excellent -- particularly Winslet as a woman who holds steadfastly to her belief that one does one's job as best as one can without questioning and who's great shame lies not in something that can never be undone or forgiven but in something she knows not how to change -- can we move on to why this story doesn't work best on screen?

Despite having never read it, I feel almost certain that the book must be better than the movie. Kate Winslet as a sexy older lady having an affair with a kid half her age and who happens to secretly be a Nazi certainly sounds like a pulpy premise, doesn't it? But in his effort to focus on the psychic scars that haunt post-war Germany to this very day (or at least to 1995 where Ralph Fiennes, as the oldest iteration of Michael Berg, reflects back on them), director Stephen Daldry presents us with another deadly dull literary adaptation. (Sidebar: Can you believe he directed Billy Elliot?)

Before you point out that perhaps the post-war Germany bit is more important than the sexy-Nazi bit, let me remind you that there are sexy movies about post-war Germany. It can be done. I am certain that there are stories about that time in that country's history that can and should be told, but this movie isn't the place I would look for one if I were you. There's a scene late in the movie between Fiennes and Lena Olin, as a survivor who wrote a memoir about her time in the camps and whose testified against Hanna, that would be a good starting off point. It carefully maintains a balance between wanting Fiennes to spell it out and wondering what good that would do. It put me in mind of My Own Private Lower Post, a powerful short about the psychic scars that reservation schools have unto the second and third generations.

While Winslet can't win enough awards in my opinion,* I would also hand one over to Bruno Ganz. He so perfectly embodied the role of a special seminar professor that it nearly took me by surprise.

My greatest surprise, however, came in the form of Nico Muhly's score. It relied, of all things, on the oboe. I had a professor who told us that we do not trust the oboe (or any instrument with a double reed) because it reminds us instinctively of the snake in Eden. There is something lovelorn about it and Muhly's work.** If only the movie could have maintained the same tone. Well, and moved a bit quicker. And maybe have been a bit shorter. B

*After all, working with Daldry and donning a prosethetic won Kidman an Oscar.

**It reminded me of nothing so much as the score for Sweeney Todd, to be honest.

Doubt (2008)

Story: A young nun, Sister James (Amy Adams), brings her suspicions to the school's principal, Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep), that the parish's new priest, Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) may be interfering with the school's lone black student Donald Miller (Joseph Foster).

If for no other reason than it's set in 1964, I kept waiting for someone to revive the euphemism "interfering." No one did, so I shall take up the cause.

If I tell you that the performances are uniformly excellent -- particularly Viola Davis as Mrs. Miller, who in her scant screen time really makes you desperate to know the entire story, to know what she means by "character," and deeply sad -- can we move on to why this story doesn't work best on screen?

There's a lot of business about the opening and closing of doors and windows, and it's a theatrical conceit. It's not that it doesn't work or that it doesn't contain meaning; it's that it's constrained by stage business. On the stage, you need to have people both explaining what they are doing with doors and windows as well as actually doing with said doors and windows. It's a question of angles and sets for the theatre audience.

In a movie, you need to show not tell. It was late in the movie that I realized that this is what was missing - writer-director John Patrick Shanley, who adapted his own play, wasn't doing enough with the language of cinema to tell the story. Someone closes a door, and it's a Big Fucking Deal, this closing of the door, only we watch it happen solely from the inside of the room with the person's back to us. What we needed, though, was the repetition of watching this door close from the outside. Inside the room is one thing; outside the room is just as important. Would the door latching echo in the hallways or would it be silent? None of this would give anything away, but it would help layer meaning into what's meant to be a complex take on truth, reason, doubt, objectivity, and subjectivity. Again, it is all those things, but it's closed off, at a remove.

What happens inside the room I won't reveal. I will tell you that it's meant to be the Big Confrontation, and that doesn't really pan out either. Whether it's the product of the movie's airless quality, whether it was some resistance or hesitation on the actors parts, or whether it's a natural by-product of knowing that you won't get any answers there, I couldn't say for sure, although I'm leaning toward the second option. Traditionally, Shanley tells only the actor playing Flynn if Flynn is guilty, and I wonder if that hampers his performance in anyway. You have to play it straight down the line no matter what, so what good does it do to know?

Sidebar: Howard Shore wrote a score for this movie. I don't remember hearing any non-diegetic music. What does that mean? Also, I love Alice Drummond's voice.

All of this is pretty negative, I know. I'm not suggesting that this is a bad movie. It's obviously an outstanding play, and, I suspect, a better play than movie. Maybe a few more drafts or a different director would have taken it further. Then again, maybe those changes would have ruined it. B

Pop Culture Round Up: December 20 - January 9

I'm still getting all caught up, you know?

Inglorious Basterds finally gets a release date.

Sort of to the side of Criticism in Crisis, but still good to know.

More Criticism in Crisis reactions.

"Normally, a picture is worth a thousand words. But during blurb season, the laws of nature are reversed." Which is why I head to the movies and see giant Rolling Stone reviews in the place of cardboard cutouts.

Yay, Lauren Graham on TV again!

Speaking of, this reminds me of that Gilmore Girls episode where the town loner wanted to hang a giant sign from the bell tower.

Heh. This list is so curmudgeonly.

What if the movie is the only way you are going to get to see it?

Gak! Brain pain!

Check the slide show.

Gah, this bugs. Won't they at least need him for the before scenes?

They certainly don't seem as inventive as they could be.

Wouldn't be against it!

Why is this news to me? Also, is it just me or does Pegg look particularly foxy in that photo?

Do NOT take this away from us, Judge.

More art to be returned.

Sad.

But scientists, Army, and Al Gore got in the way.

Yes, but are they ideal for a certain song by Spinal Tap?

Not the point: Possession is finally coming out? Dude, I wrote about that last February.

Also not the point: In answer to your last question, no, but maybe he should consider it.

Listen, while that is the best part of Fantasia, what the hell? Just . . . why? Maybe it will be cool. I have my doubts, but maybe.

How cute is the "why am I marrying him?" gallery? (Psst, you have to click on the left to get to it)

I misread this headline and thought one crazy movie was in store.

And in honour of my best friend's most recent birthday.

'Tis the season:

National Society of Film Critics Awards.

PGA nominations.

WGA nominations.

DGA nominations.

Nice of CBC to put all their top 10 lists in one place.

Dana Stevens' Top 10.

Stephanie Zacharek's Top 10.

Vulture's Critics' Poll Ballots and Results.

The best of the AV Club.

TWoP's most disappointing movies of the year, favourite movies of the year, and most hated movies.

MOVIE CLUB! Yes, I was yelling. I loves me some Movie Club.

Slumdog Millionaire (2008)

Premise: Poised to be the first person to win 20 million rupees on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, Jamal (Dev Patel) is hauled into questioning by the police (led by Irrfan Khan) who want to know how a slumdog who serves chai at a call centre knows all the answers. Jamal tells them about moments in his life with his older brother Salim (Madhur Mittal) and true love Latika (Freida Pinto) that furnished him with what he needed to know.

I've read quite a few things along the lines of "if it wasn't set in India" or "if it weren't told in flashback" or "if not for this cast," and you know what I say? Fuck that. With Hollywood's War on Original Ideas (tm the Vulture) still on-going, what's wrong with doing anything we can to take a basic premise (guy bests unbeatable odds to win dream girl) and turn it into something fresh? If we can get something funny, heartfelt, and uplifting in the process, why are we looking a gift horse in the mouth?

That's what this one feels like, at any rate: a gift. 2008 isn't going to go down in the books as one of this decade's better years for movies (sucks to have to follow 2007), and I've been hard pressed, at this point in the game, to name what I think the best movies of the year have been so far. If co-directors Danny Boyle and Loveleen Tandan want to hand us this thrilling and ultimately sweet gift, why say no?

Working in tandem with gorgeous, sensual, and richly textured work from cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle (he also did Boyle's amazingly shot 28 Days Later . . .) and the surprisingly subtle screen adaptation from Simon Beaufoy (who apparently invented the love story that both anchors the plot and sends it soaring), Boyle and Tandan have nothing short of magic on their hands. Every scene is alive with motion, colour, and energy; even the subtitles (the movie is partially in Hindi) dance across the screen, highlighted by different colours for each speaker.

It's hard to single out one performance in a movie filled with pitch perfect ones (the youngest versions of Jamal, Salim, and Latika are particularly endearing), but attention must be given to Patel nonetheless. There's very little that's universal in a story so particular, and it falls on his shoulders, as the oldest version of Jamal and as the storyteller, to make it personal. Patel succeeds by turning Jamal inward, making him quiet and conscientious but still bright. His ability to imagine a life for himself is limited to one that involves Latika, and his singular devotion to that vision is what gives him (and thus his performance) its strength.

There was another movie that I recall that had a lot of "if not for this" and "if not for that" comments about how beat out very narrow odds to become excellent. It was Shop Around the Corner, and you know what they called such movies back then? Lightening in a bottle. Why can't we still have lightening in a bottle? A

The Short Take: 2008 Round Up

It's not 2008 anymore, I know, but I still have quite a few 2008 movies that I have yet to tell you about. It seems obvious at this point that they're not going to get full reviews. I still want to acknowledge them, though, so they get the paragraph treatment instead. Hurrah!

Blindness (2008)

Bearing in mind that Julianne Moore and Mark Ruffalo are pretty much always going to be good, this has to be one of the worst movies I have ever seen. A metaphor for the break down of communication in modern society, huh? How does that work, exactly? Let's go back to grade five and remember that a metaphor is a comparison not using like or as. So everyone loses their sight and only one seemingly ordinary woman (Moore) can still see but pretends to be blind in order to stay with her husband (Ruffalo). Okay . . . still waiting for someone to explain to me how the metaphor works. I'll give José Saramago the benefit of the doubt and guess that it works in the novel, but it doesn't come across in screenwriter Don McKellar and director Fernando Meirelles adaptation. Basically, this movie has an overlap of self-consciously arty crap (it's white blindness, so the theatre would occasionally fill with bright white light from the screen, which achieved nothing so much as taking the audience directly out of the film) and over attention to gritty details (people stopped using the washrooms and just used the hall, and not a single scene that involved walking down the hallway failed to include someone slipping in shit. I'd like to say points for continuity, but We. Get. It). We also got it when you stayed on the stray dog eating a dead person in the street for two minutes. Shut up, moive. D

Passchendaele (2008)

This movie had a lot going for it. The opening sequence was shocking. Then the movie zigged when you thought it would zag, taking you back to Alberta and focusing instead on an older officer (Paul Gross) wooing an emotionally unavailable younger nurse (Caroline Dhavernas). This part I liked. It was a little boring at times, but you could understand why he kept at it even as she pushed him away. But the movie's called Passchendaele, so you knew they had to get back to the front eventually. It was at this point, the third act, that the movie got bad. Out of nowhere, a small, well developed, character driven story became a sweeping war movie in the worst way. Now it was about CANADA, and CANADA deserves to have its story told. I'm not saying that that's not true; I'm saying that it didn't jive with what came before and was done in something of an embarrassing manner. Oh, well. I suppose writer-director-star Gross isn't perfect. C+

Zack and Miri Make a Porno (2008)

I'll just tell you how it is: I don't really get Kevin Smith. I don't dislike him or want him to come to any harm, but when I'm watching his movies, it's sort of a big meh. Part of it is that people just don't talk like that. Not in that Sorkin way where we wish we were all that erudite but in that "If I hear the words 'make love' or any derivation thereof one more time, I'm going to lose it" way. I don't believe that Zack would talk that way, and I wanted to stop such things from coming out of Seth Rogen's mouth. He's a good actor; they would sound ridiculous no matter what. And that's all it is, really: that two best friends would think making a porno is the best way to solve their financial crisis, that having sex could reveal deeper feelings, that it does, it's a workable premise. But then you throw all these other layers of shit (sometimes literal) on top of the thing, and it becomes shallow. There's humour there, but the fundamental lack of emotionality prevents the movie from ever being more than okay. B-

Changeling (2008)

Remember when Angelina Jolie got really skinny back in there? See this movie if you need a refresher. Not only does her collarbone practically cry out "feed me!", but all the veins in her hands stand out, giving her the effect of seeming fragile. Which is great when you are playing a character like Christine Collins. The trailer may give you the impression that this movie's about a lady looking for her lost son, but it's really about a lady learning to toughen up. She just also happens to be looking for her lost son. Jolie's great, but her out sized public persona prevents her from ever really disappearing into a role. It's hard to believe that she wouldn't start kicking some ass. John Malkovich is cast fantastically against type as Reverend Gustav Briegleb (I think you could get a solid short film out of him just saying that name), a firebrand so intent on taking down the corrupt police department that it's possible he only sees Christine as a means to an end. This, unfortunately, is all the nuance any character in the movie is allowed. Jeffrey Donovan, as the captain who gives Christine the wrong boy, gets all of fifteen seconds to register any doubt or remorse. No one else gets even that much. It gets the point where you want to tell the nice detective (Michael Kelly) to go easier on these kids. This just isn't it, Clint. C-

Australia (2008)

This not so much a movie as a child's fever dream of what an epic movie should be. It's bookended by a movie about the Stolen Generations, turns into a fish out of water love story about an Englishwoman (Nicole Kidman) who inherits a cattle farm in the outback and the Drover (Hugh Jackman) who helps her save the place from financial ruin, and then turns into a war drama. While there's plenty of material there, it's not convincingly much of any of these movies. Kidman's really got to stop doing whatever it is she's been doing to her face (woe is the day when I go back to The Others to discover that it was like that all along), Jackman's Jackman (he seems an affable, gregarious fellow, and you can pretty much take it or leave it with him), and they have some lovely friendship chemistry but not much else. And if I were Brandon Walters, he of that lovely mane, I would turn tail and run before I ever took on another Magic Aboriginal role like that again. A child who refers to his adoptive parents as Boss and Mrs. Boss? Where do we draw the line? For a man who has supposedly left his red curtain trilogy behind, Baz Luhrmann is awfully fixated on a literal swinging one. It's pretty, but there's not much else to this one. C

Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008)

I've said it before, but it bears repeating: one of the problems rom-coms is the tendency to demonize the love interest the audience shouldn't want the lead to end up, and this problem tends to be ratcheted up when said love interest is a woman. So you can imagine my surprise writer and star Jason Segel remembered happy, funny times with his eponymous ex (Kristen Bell) and even allowed her valid points about the difficulties in their relationships (I'd balk at someone wearing the same sweatpants everyday for a week, too). When he starts to remember the downsides to their relationship (a montage of events where he stood back and held her purse, for one), it feels earned and as natural as it would in any break up. Everyone knows from the outset that he'll end up with the lovely Mila Kunis, but it's a pleasant surprise that Bell feels like a contender. At least until a couple of reveals undo all that nice work, but you'll forgive the movie it's only real misstep. It's still got hilarious turns from Russell Brand and Kenneth the Page, after all, and you totally would go see a Dracula puppet musical. A-

Made of Honor (2008)

I watched this as a double bill with Marshall, and, while it's the worse both by comparison and in point of fact, it's not as bad as you might think. It is what you think, a sex-reversed My Best Friend's Wedding, and the sex reversal guarantees an ending reversal as well. Because I stopped watching Grey's Anatomy several seasons back, I'm free to find Patrick Dempsey, all floppy hair and twinkling blue eyes, charming again (Fun fact: I started watching Grey's for Dempsey, kind of like how I started watching House for Robert Sean Leonard. There are a handful of early 90s movies that mean a lot to me, okay?). I like Michelle Monaghan as well, and they are pretty cute together. Nothing about this movie is fresh or interesting, but sometimes being middling isn't the worst thing in the world. C

Tell No One (2006)

It's all in the tagline: "8 years ago, Alex's wife was murdered. Today, she emailed him." This French thriller, adapted by writer-director Guillaume Canet from the novel by American Harlan Coben, is exactly as exciting as you find that premise. At the very least, it's mildly intriguing, right? François Cluzet goes on the hunt for the truth about his wife's murder, loosening the foundations of several people's lives in the process. Though neither the direction nor the writing are perfect (particularly egregious is the music video early on that disrupts the flow of the movie), Cluzet is fantastic as the still grieving widower, and Kristin Scott Thomas (perhaps practicing her French for I've loved you so long) is particularly welcome as his only supportive friend. Having never read the novel, I can't speak to the adaptation, but, as a movie, it's pretty good. B

Stop-Loss (2008)

While I'm certain that there's a story to be told about soldiers who get stop-lossed (that is, called back to duty just when they are set to be discharge based on the needs of the service) and Kimberly Pierce may even be the director to do it, Ryan Phillippe and Abbie Cornish aren't the actors for it. Cornish's attempts at an American accent and her man voice do nothing to alievate her lack of affect, and Phillippe's never been the most expressive actor (although he does seem the right type to solider). Perhaps subing out Phillippe for Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who handles the film's most compelling plot with the aplomb we've come to expect, would have produced better results. Aside from her imperfect leads, Pierce's film tends toward the obvious, but it's also smart, patriotic, and occasionally quietly moving (the digital collages made by the soldiers themselves are perhaps the movie's pinnacle). B+

Kung Fu Panda (2008)

I probably wouldn't have seen this at all if we weren't already at the theatre and all in the mood to see another movie, but there you have it. What all the celebrity voices bring to the table I couldn't tell you (will a six year old even recognize Jolie, much less David Cross?), but it's fun and funny, necessary components for any worthwhile kids' flick, as well as beautiful to look at, smart, and just a little smart-mouthed. It's got a simple message (boiled down, you could call it "be yourself") that it handles with a fair amount of subtlety. In short, if your niece or nephew wants to rent it, you could do worse. A lot worse. A-

Drillbit Taylor (2008) could be one of those worse things. My hopes were briefly raised after my nephew put it on when I saw both Stephen Root and Danny R. McBride's names go by, but they petered out shortly thereafter. They scored their sole laugh from me in a cameo from Adam Baldwin that surely went over every head but my mother's. There's just something unfunny and downright creepy about a homeless man who tries to swill abused teens out of their money. It could be darkly funny, but the movie doesn't set that tone, and it's all downhill from there. C

"What you see are the things in its path -- objects and particles and dust --, and you see them because they reflect the light."

Want to reflect on the year that was in cinema? Let me help you out with my list of things to remember in my latest Culture article.

Over in the advice column, Miss Smartypants tackles Twilight Moms, Canadian spelling, and job opportunities. Keep sending your questions to advice@culturemagazine.ca.

Pop Culture Round Up: December 13 - 19

Zombie romances and rock'n'roll vampires? Sign me up!

Yay! Who's up for a road trip?

That just seems silly. If you're getting paid, what's the point?

I'm telling you, it follows me around! This one appeared in an email that I was legitimately forwarded at work. And someone sent me this one. Good points, though.

I remain dubious.

Excellent. I can think of a good number of movies that would be improved by drinking.

Gak!

Could our criticism in crisis series be drawing to a close or is this an anomaly?

That makes sense.

Sure, if you live in the U.S.

Aw. Well, maybe. Nah, it's Rudd and Segel. Aw.

This is news?

I'd go to that.

Is that it? Really? Should I feel bad?

Sad.

'Tis the season:

The Guardian's most ridiculous plots.

There's always one.

Toronto Film Critics Association Awards.

AV Club's Year in Film. And their worst of the year. And a bonus crosstalk! I've missed crosstalks.

SAG nominees.

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (2008 - ?)

Last TV Thursday I told you about one of two shows competing for my Monday at eight attention. Now I shall tell you about the other.

Terminator (or T:TSCC, as I sometimes call it) came on at the exact right time: pretty much every other show that I watched and loved had disappeared thanks to the writers' strike (remember that?), and, hey, we all loved T2, didn't we? Plus, Lena Headey was in 300, Thomas Dekker played Zach on the only good season of Heroes, and Summer Glau rules. Should be alright.

And it is. It's exactly okay enough that you can watch comfortably without anyone (either the audience or the writers) taking anything too seriously. But there's always been something a little off about it, and it's not just the way that Cameron's (Glau) ability to act human varies wildly from episode to episode to suit the plot's needs.

At first, I thought it was Dekker. I didn't like his emo bangs or the whiny "Mommy, save me from the apocalypse!" attitude that went along with them. I can't imagine it's pleasant to have the weight of the world on your shoulders, but man up already. I never got why it was considered a good idea to put John in school, much less Cameron there "for his protection," and I honestly wondered how the writers were going to turn the little git into the warrior he was meant to be. Finally this season, John killed a guy (which they waited to confirm for several episodes as though it wasn't obvious), cropped his hair, and decided he was done with school. It looked like they were getting on the right track, but instead the development turned into John Connor - Least Likely to be a Hero.

In the midst of all this, though, I realized that my problem isn't John or Dekker as John at all. My problem is right there in the title: Sarah. It's not Headey as Sarah either (although her occasional wounded-bird body language can be distracting). It's the way they write Sarah and, specifically, the fact that she can't kill a man. Back in season one, Derek (Brian Austin Green) rolled in and totally shot some guys. Sarah was all, "Oh, no, you couldn't possibly kill that sweet nerd who was totally building Skynet, could you?" And Derek said no, but he so did.

And that's the trouble with Sarah. She doesn't get, no matter how many times over it is demonstrated, that burning down people's houses and stealing their hard drives isn't enough. Sometimes you've got to man up and put a bullet in their heads. Cameron gets that because she's driven by her mission, Derek gets that because he's a solider first and foremost, and John gets that because it's his only chance for a future. But Sarah just doesn't and the writers won't do a thing about it. Part of the premise they are asking you to buy is Sarah as a total badass, and everything about her - her clothes, her hair cut, her walk, her dialogue - is meant to convey that fact. But how can you believe in someone as a badass when she can't kill someone even to protect her son?

That said, the show's not all bad. At worst, you get explosions and cool robot fights. At best, you get Cameron and Derek heavy episodes. I never thought I'd be saying this about anything involving the former David Silver, but there it is. He's grown up hot and surprisingly well acted. It's even worth putting up with Jesse (Stephanie Jacobsen, and, no offence to the actress, it's again the way she's written) just to check in with Derek. As for Glau as Cameron, she's the show's strongest element, and the best episodes are built around her ever evolving humanity. We're forced to put all of the show's philosophical and pseudo-religious underpinnings into question whenever we see her form a connection with the world around her, and it's smart of them to do so. It's just that sometimes it's too bad it's not Terminator: The Derek and Cameron Chronicles.

Milk (2008)

Premise: Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) leaves New York with his boyfriend Scott Smith (James Franco) for San Francisco. He opens a small camera shop on Castro. Little by little, he becomes more political involved, fighting for gay rights in the city. Eventually, he wins a seat on city's Board of Supervisors, making him the first openly gay politician in America.

I think I might see this again.

Is there a word for the movie version of a memoir? You know how the movie version (not adaptation, mind) of a biography is a biopic? What's the word when it's just a memoir? I sense a linguistic gap here.

I love that director Gus Van Sant and writer Dustin Lance Black chose to focus on less than a decade of Milk's life. We don't need to know what Ma and Pa Milk were like. All we need to know is what got Milk to San Francisco and what happened once he got there. That's the story: the Mayor of Castroville. He picks up Scott in the subway, he offers to show him New York's gay scene (which bars to hit, which bars to avoid). Scott tells him to quit living in the closet, and -- just like that -- he does.

If you're not already a little in love with Harvey and with Harvey and Scott together by that point, I don't know what to do with you. There's something so sweet and innocent and daring about a man who can look at his life at 40, thinking nothing of it, and decide to do something about that. All of that comes across in Penn's full-bodied performance. As good as he is, for years we have been suffering under the weight of his Big Performances, all mannered and brooding, full of actorly tics. When he breaks free of that, allowing himself to childlike, passionate, and, yes, gay, Penn gives us the performance we never realized we were waiting for all along. It's exactly who he was always meant to play.

Everyone else seems equally well cast from the dedicated but tenuous Franco as Scott to Diego Luna as Latino drama queen Jack Lira to Alison Pill as Milk's tough as nails lesbian campaign manager Anne Kronenberg. The scenes in their ramshackle campaign office (Milk's camera store, which was never much of a store to begin with) flow like quicksilver, and it's hard not to get caught up in the heady rush of just trying to make a change. But then they do (finally, finally), and we run smack into Dan White (Josh Brolin).

Brolin's been a revelation in the last year or two (Goonies never say die), and he's another walking miracle here. He takes White's little boy haircut and carries it right on down into every element of his performance: an easily angered young man who tried to steadfastly hold on to tradition when the tide decidedly turned against him. It's the kind of thing that would be noble if it weren't so evil.

All that, and it was actually Emil Hirsch's big hair, big glasses, and adorable little twink walk that captured my attention. Cleve Jones must be a force of nature.

The combination of Van Sant and Black is a special gift: in the midst of telling this deeply person-specific story, they find time for sympathy for White and room to develop the minor characters. Most of all, they make narration seem not only necessary but also right. It's Harvey's story. Why shouldn't he be the one to tell it? A-

Pop Culture Round Up: December 6 - 12

I don't rightly know what happened here this week. I had movies to review but didn't. I'll get them in sometime soon, I hope.

So long as shows are still canceled for poor ratings, yes.

I think the point is to draw a line between good natured ribbing and out-and-out teasing.

What the hell? Not only do I think Hardwicke deserves greater credit than the studio is willing to give (sounds like they want to get a sequel out so fast that they are willing to sacrifice any attempt at quality), but also do they really think this guy is going to do better? You know what? I think a woman is better suited to helm the franchise, and I find it sexist to kick one out and then call her irrational. Is there a petition I can sign?

Heh. There's just something so fabulous about Schnabel.

Download the PDF today!

Dude, I think, although those are some pretty hefty cons. Ah, who am I kidding. Someone get me a subscription for Christmas, won't you?

It's spreading. I think my earlier estimate of two years is a little on the short side, though.

I would go so crazy during the chat thing! I would forget to look up at the movie.

A) Why haven't I heard of this book before? B) Why don't I own it? C) Why hasn't anyone hired me to adapt it? I already have some great, Wizard of Oz inspired ideas.

What the crap is this? I want the one with the sweet bitchface, people.

The obsession continues: More stolen art returns.

Great because he is one of those actors that you want to break out in a big way.

This looks cool.

Generally, I use the term black list to refer to something bad, but this works, too.

Sad.

Would these things ever not work on me.

It's kind of hard not to love him. Besides, Speed is a really good movie.

I think this might be a good idea.

How nice!

Send some e-cards, then watch the puppets. I defy you not to laugh.

'Tis the season:

David Edelstein's 10 best surprised me.

Critics' Choice Award nominees.

Golden Globe nominations.

New York Film Critics Circle Awards.

Los Angeles Film Critics Awards.

Pop Culture Round Up: November 29 - December 5

I can't say I'd put many of these on my list if I took the time to make one, but I can tell you that there are some great ones in there like 48 and 15. They've even got the same quote I used last January in my Culture article!

Recently I was reminded of this glorious thing, which I stumbled upon years ago for legitimate work reasons. That job was terrible, but at least it had that.

Part of me thinks that this is terrible, and the part of me motivated by scheudenfraude hopes this blows up like David O. Russell did awhile back.

If I tried this challenge, I wouldn't need new reading material for a solid two years.

The more we learn from Anton Chigurh, the better.

The first person to get me one of these wins top prize. For reals.

This never would have happened on Slings & Arrows.

I'm a little concerned that this will be awful, but I'm going to try to hope for awesome. Or at least not sucky.

"Viva Las Vegas meets Tommy?" How have I not heard of this before?

Yay! Really yay!

Alex Kingston would be an excellent Doctor. Lobby hard!

"TIME TO SPARKLE" is my new sign off.

I was unconcerned with this rivalry this summer, but now I am jazzed about the re-release. I am going to go see it again.

Holy shit! You know who they should centre this around, don't you? Eric.

Feel free to read this if you want to bring yourself down.

Go to the source and read the entire thing if you need a laugh after the above link.

And, because it is that time again: Independent Spirit Award Nominees and National Board of Review Winners.

I know, I know you are sick of my weird love-loathe thing with Twilight, but I clicked on over to The Old Hag because I used to love it and now haven't been there in, like, for-EVAH, and what do I see? A Twilight review. I don't make a point of linking reviews, but, hey, I love what she's got to say, and I can't wait to read her linked article.

Gossip Girl (2007 - ?)

I think by now my feelings about Gossip Girl may have come across on ye olde blogge. They are simple: I love this show. I acknowledge that it's not for everyone (though I'm still working on accepting that fact).

I had heard pretty good buzz about it when it premiered, and I kept an eye on Jacob's recaplets when the show started last fall. While channel surfing one day, I discovered that the CW was rerunning episodes Sundays at six, and I watched "Dare Devil." I was completely, horribly entranced from the word go.

I am going to confess something to you now that some people know about me, some people don't, and everyone treats like it's crazy, although I think it makes about as much sense as anything else: I watch soap operas. There was a crazy time when I was juggling four; there was a low time when my combined effort added up to one. I watch about two now. My love of soap operas is threefold: 1) only the least likely thing is allowed to happen on a soap opera, 2) they are always on, and 3) I'm something of a narrative junkie. As long as there is something to read/watch/follow that mildly holds my interest, I will do just that.

Now, what does any of this have to do with GG? It's simple really: I love it because it's so perfectly insane. It's a soap opera on mescaline. Blair (Leighton Meester, she of the impeccable instincts and questionable headbands) can lose her prized virginity to the sluttiest guy she can find (Chuck, played to such unbelievable perfection by Ed Westwick that you might lose your mind), go through a slut spiral, fall in love with Chuck, sleep with Nate (Chace Crawford, to whom we'll come back), and have a pregnancy scandal that reveals the entire sordid affair to everyone and dethrones Queen B in one fell swoop inside of seven episodes. A lesser show would draw this out for an entire season or even longer but not GG. They've got coke whores who sell their horses for blow and murder to get to before the season's out.

Before you start thinking that that is all crazy and weird and you want none of it, don't front with me. From Les Liaisons Dangerous on down, we plebes have been obsessed with what happens when you can afford to buy not only everything you need but also anything you want. All GG does every episode is look at a bunch of people who have wealth and power and say, "Now what?"

Of course, none of this would work if you couldn't believe that any human being, real or imagined, would do any of the crazy shit that goes down from week to week, and that is exactly where Josh Schwartz, Stephanie Savage, et al. got it right. Teens treat pretty much everything that happens to them as life or death, so you've got to find actors who will play things that way without ever once winking at the camera, and, in that respect, this show is perfectly cast. Perhaps even more than perfectly because everyone pretty much goes for broke all the time. When you look at a wildly crazy construct like Chuck, your instinct would be to play him for laughs (as Em said, that's what happened with some of Edward's intensity in movie-Twilight). Instead, despite the deliciously deranged get ups and the insane lines, Westwick plays him like this is what would naturally happen to you if you were brought up the way Chuck was. Somehow you find yourself thinking that yes, this is just how I would have turned out if that had happened to me.

Even when you think you can pinpoint the weak link (say, Crawford or Taylor Momsen as Jenny), if you pause to consider who that character is and who that character is supposed to be, you end up believing that someone as blank as Crawford can be plays Nate exactly the way Nate should be played. He's fiercely loyal when it comes to his family, he was raised to basically not go around embarrassing them, and everything else just sort of falls by the wayside. When he plum forgets the girl that he and Dan (Penn Badgley) had a total threeway with weeks earlier and then laughs it off, you realize that Crawford is playing it exactly right. And as for Momsen, last season was sort of touch and go, but this year she is hitting it out of the park. Jenny believes that every chance is her last chance, and Momsen plays that urgency so well that even as you are like, "Damn, Jenny, get a hold of yourself," part of you still thinks, "Shit! Make it work!"

It doesn't help that Chris and Jessica are completely obsessed with the show to the point where they renamed the tag "The Greatest Show of Our Time." Nor does it help that Jacob refers to it as the same in his philosophical, mood-altering, possibly life-changing recaps. It's hard to imagine that you could dislike anything that Jacob writes about given the way he writes. He pours so much passion and imagination into simply trying to explain to you what he sees happening and how that may or may not be exactly what's going on in your life that I think if the show went off the rails to the point where I should hate it, Jacob's recaps would completely blind me to that fact.

To be honest, as much as I want to tell you about this show I love so much, I have struggled massively not to repeat that which Jacob has already said in more detail and with a better vocabulary. Think of it this way: everyone is pretty and crazy and only the most deranged shit happens in any given episode, but it's always ground in real, accessible, believable human emotion. If anything, it's exactly the show that Heroes pretends it is.

"Actually, Billy Idol stole his look from . . . "

As promised, part two of my daring foray into telling you which movies to see continues in my latest Culture article, "December Movie Guide." (Blew your mind with that title, didn't I?)

Because I know you are all dying to read more of my opinion on the subject of Twilight, I also have a Book vs Film up in the Books section.

On the downside, Miss Smartypants took a little early holiday vacation this month so no new advice column. Keep sending your questions to advice@culturemagazine.ca. She'll be back before you know it.

JCVD (2008)

Summary: While at home in Belgium, Jean-Claude Van Damme (self) is taken hostage along with several others in a daylight post office robbery.

This movie is cool. It's not perfect, it's not even particularly substantial, but, for a mediation on fame and responsibility, it's cool.

The movie makes a point of drawing a direct parallel with Dog Day Afternoon (Zinedine Soualem is styled to look exactly like John Cazale) though it's unclear where it wants to go with that parallel, which is pretty much the problem. I found the jumbled time line, lighting, and photography closer to Before the Devil Knows You're Dead.* It's a good movie to ape, although I think the time line (i.e., release date to release date) makes it unlikely that that's what co-writer and director Mabrouk El Mechri and co-writers Fédéric Bénudis and Christophe Turpin had in mind. Too bad.

What happens to a person when you become less of a box office draw and more of a punchline is enough fodder for a movie to begin with, so you'd think that adding the hostage twist to the story of a former action star would be over the top. Somehow, though, it's not. Somehow it feels just right.

Van Damme plays the role just right as well. It's not something you could imagine happening to Stallone or Segal. There's a certain resigned air that he carries from the outside world into the situation that suits him there. He worries for his own life, he wonders how he can use a robber's fan worship against him, he tries to help the other hostages inasmuch as he can. But mostly he takes it all in with a kind of sighed, "I suppose it was always going to be this way." It's effecting, so much so that even as your rational side recognizes the obvious manipulations behind his big monologue, you find yourself moved. By his "oh, yeah, that" head tap at the end of the movie, it's hard not to smile wryly in agreement. B-

*Huh - those are both Sidney Lumet movies. Wonder what that's about.

Pop Culture Round-Up: November 22 - 28

Ha. There should be more awards like this.

I have a hard time with reruns generally, but I am known to allow Seinfeld to run in the background.

Ooo, I wish I could go to that exhibit.

Whoo, NPH! Alright, so the article isn't about him, but, if there's an openly gay man we can all agree on, it's NPH.

I don't know what to make of these stories anymore. So people watch things online. So what? The question isn't how do we stop them; it's the same questions people always ask: how do we turn a buck off it?

"We are becoming people of the screen."

Lists like this are kind of depressing, particularly 15 and 18.

This sounds like it ought to be good.

Aw, just like on Slings & Arrows!

Now that's cool.

That's all well and good, but how is it going to work? It's mostly a book about being depressed, deviating only for craziness and suicide. Can you tell it's my least favourite?

I don't even need to know what this is about to know that I want to see it.

I think Jason Stratham might be hilarious. To whit: "Listen, I've always liked boxing, I've always liked kickboxing, K1, Pride Fighting, UFC, men's Pancrase [hybrid wrestling] from Japan." He's always liked them, okay? Always.

At what point do I need to check myself re: my possibly-not-mild interest in seeing stolen art returned? Because I read this, and I thought, "Ha! It's always the Nazis." Did I just "gotcha" the Nazis?

Supernatural (2005 - ?)

Recently, a friend and I got to talking about how the last two episodes of Supernatural hadn't really lived up to the bar none spectacular season the show has been having. It got pretty involved (as it often does), and I started thinking about this show I have come to love. Truly, it is one of my favourites.

My first taste was a preview recap that Demian wrote of the pilot. It sounded alright. I like Jensen Ackles; I like Jared Padalecki. I had asked Emily, after Angel was cancelled, where we were going to get our "supernatural fix." Still, it wasn't appointment viewing for me until "Home." It was a great episode for a variety of reasons: excellent work from the leads, solid Monster of the Week (MotW), tie-in to the series myth-arc. It was exactly the kind of episode that you want to use to hook viewers (like the season one episode of Buffy "Angel"), and it certainly worked on me. After that, I made a point of getting caught up and staying on track.

Of course, it wasn't always pretty. A scant four episodes later, "Route 666" was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the worst episode of the entire series. It's so bad that I can say, "So, I was watching the worst episode of Supernatural . . . ," and another fan will interrupt to yell, "Racist truck!"

But look at it this way: how good does a show have to be that (a) I can easily point to one episode and call it the worst without any hesitation and (b) it happened three seasons ago? Supernatural is like Veronica Mars in reverse: it gets better with every passing season. Minus the last two episodes (but including the last five minutes of the latter one), this season, the fourth, is the best one that the show has ever had. It feels like everything is finally falling into place.

For seasons past, the majority of the episodes were MotW. There's nothing wrong with that. "Tall Tales," "Heart," "A Very Supernatural Christmas," and "Mystery Spot" are among my favourite episodes. The myth-arc centric episodes, while they were often very good, had a tendency to raise more questions than the show seemed interested in answering most of the time. It didn't much matter once you got used to the formula: hot guys, gore, and bittersweet endings. Good times!

Then at the end of last season, the writers went all in. Dean (Ackles), having sold his soul to Lilith in exchange for Sam's (Padalecki) life, actually went to Hell. There are two main characters on the show, only two, and they killed one and sent him to Hell. How ballsy is that? Sure, we knew there had to be a way for him to get out of there, but still. They went there.

That's when things got even crazier. On Buffy and Angel, they were sure about demons, the devil, and all manner of other supernatural being. God? The jury was out. Supernatural was also quick to sidestep that particular televisual landmine. Sam had faith, Dean didn't, they weren't sure where you went after you died, just that there was some place other than Hell for good little boys and girls.

All of that changed when the gorgeous Misha Collins stepped onto our screens in a blue suit that could have only been chosen to highlight his striking blue eyes and uttered, "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." No vomited up snakes or dark magic for our gang. An angel named Castiel marched into Hell on God's orders and pulled Dean out. Seems the Lord's got a plan for our boy, and it's got something to do with the coming Apocalypse.

This end of the world stuff is new territory for our writers, and, amazingly, they haven't (completely) botched it. Things are starting to make sense as they pit angel against demon, brother against brother, and Dean against Armageddon. What if we finally bottomed out Dean's self-loathing? What would be left? Apparently startlingly compelling viewing.

Dean goes from hating himself just about as much as anyone could, to finding out that God has a purpose so big for him that He’ll send an angel into Hell to pull him out, to both Sam and Dean thinking that angels are made of stone (in terms of their wills), to finding out that angels are far more human than they could have ever imagined (starting with Castiel’s confession that having faith can be hard and continuing into Anna’s reveal that she was willing to damn herself in order to give being human a whirl).

Guest recapper Cindy has compared the myth arc this season to racism, and it’s a comparison that holds. It starts out with this instant hate of the Other (Dean is automatically assumes that every supernatural being is bad news), moves othering the Other (they might not be bad, but they are certainly different), and has now started to reach an understanding that the Other is just Another You (but not in a cheesy “Angels: They’re just like us!” Us Weekly/Star magazine sort of way).

We know that Lilith has to break 66 seals, and the writers could have easily used that to fill out three more seasons of episodes without a second thought. I don't want to sound too ridiculous here, but they've boldly decided to put that aside in favour of deepening the mythos in a way that previous seasons would not have indicated that they were either interested in or capable of. They're reaching for grand and epic, and they're bound to fall a little short once in a while.

The show's not perfect, mind. It's not the bends in the time-space continuum, the circuitous dialogue, or the way that Sam and Dean seem to trade off days being stupid that really bother me. It's the anti-feminist current that seems to be at the root of every MotW. Women are either T&A, damsels in distress, or lambs for the slaughter, and usually they get to be all three. Rare is woman who is smart and capable in her own right, and even rarer is the one who is smart, capable, and gets to survive through to the end of the episode. I don't need all the fingers on one hand to count these women, and the only one to get moved up to recurring status (the totally bitchin' Ellen Harvelle as embodied by Samantha Ferris) mysteriously disappeared at the end of season two.

Still, you've got Ackles as the goofy brother who can summon heartbreaking depths of emotion week in and week out; Padalecki is the upright brother and talented physical comedian; and Jim Beaver, our erstwhile Ellsworth and now deadpan Bobby Singer, a brilliant character actor and the show's greatest resource. Even if the last two episodes went right off the rails, there's been enough A material this season to trust the show to right itself when it's back in the new year. And a show that's earned your trust? That's something else.

Twilight (2008)

Brief: Bella (Kristen Stewart) moves to small town Forks, Washington with her dad, Charlie (Billy Burke), after her mom gets remarried. She gets instantly obsessed with Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson), who seems repulsed by her but saves her from a car accident. Turns out that thing about Edward is, well, he's a vampire.

Rarely have I read the book before I've seen the movie. Sometimes I read the book afterwards (e.g. Bridget Jones's Diary, Little Women, Gone with the Wind), but, if I haven't read the book before hand, I usually never do. Twilight is a special case: two friends read it in anticipation of the movie, and I followed suit.

I can see why Stephenie Meyer's series is so popular with the pre-teen and teen set: smart ordinary girl, Adonis vampire-boy. It's the kind of doomed, helpless romance that would have had me in tears at 12, and you can burn through it in a weekend. Meyer taps into teen angst deftly, and vampirism as a metaphor for sex has been popular with teen girls for some time. It works because it has all the big scariness of sex (desire/danger/intimacy) without any of the actual scariness of sex (sex). Edward's filled with an overwhelming desire to drink Bella's blood (sex!), but he resists (chastity!). Dreamy, right?

Except that Edward and Bella are easily the least interesting characters in the book. Meyer's does her character and the audience a disservice by making Bella so obviously depressed. Nothing matters to her save Edward, and it makes Bella seem boring and silly (although realistically teenage). Her depression, and the suicidal tendencies that go along with it, go unaddressed. The worst sections of the book are devoted to the time that Bella spends thinking alone and to Edward and Bella's declarations/arguments of love.

Forsooth, I can see how Edward would develop an OME following. On the surface, at least. He's exceptionally good looking, smart, and charming, and he spends all his days struggling against his near-overwhelming natural inclination in order to be with the woman he loves. Once you get past those qualities, though, you can see that he's selfish (according to him, he loves her so much more than Bella loves him), controlling (it works in life or death situations, less so in the cafeteria), and a lunatic drama queen. The latter is actually my favourite quality for its unintentional hilarity. Edward never says anything; he prefers to whisper, chuckle, or roar. Edward's not Edward unless he's freaking the fuck out over one thing or another.

Going into this, I worried for Pattinson and Stewart. If Bella's to be taken as a reliable narrator (and let's just say she is, given her attention to Edward), Pattinson's got his work cut out for him: impossibly beautiful, graceful, and eerie, Edward's mouth doesn't match his eyes 90% of the time. Bella's less a character than an audience stand-in (another reason girls love this stuff), so she's got to be all things to all people: depressed without being off-putting, smart without being arrogant, a crafty manipulator of her peers without being condescending. Oh, and believably klutzy. That's my favourite of Bella's characteristics, actually, because it makes her seem more real and more likely to notice how gracefully the vampires move.

What a wonderful surprise it was, then, to see how well Pattinson and Stewart pull it off. Stewart makes Bella a little more sassy and a lot more present, and she has a winning way of pacing certain lines so that they seem more natural and less crazy. She immediately follows up one of Bella's more ridiculous lines, "I'm only afraid of losing you," with another line almost directly on top, playing the scene as though Bella's embarrassed to have said that out loud. It works because her choice makes it feel genuine.

Pattinson's saddled with the more ridiculous character, so it's fortunate that screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg chose to sidestep a lot of Edward's worst characteristics. As written, Pattinson's free to play Edward as teen-in-love first, vampire second. He nails the first scene in the bio lab: we can see how Bella could easily read his reaction as repulsion and how it's obviously (to the audience) an overpowering desire to kill. Later, in the car, when he turned red and let out a high pitched laugh, I totally bought that as a moment of flat out panic. Mostly he toes the line between sexy and creepy, but there are occasions of overacting. At least the chemistry between Stewart and Pattinson is there, though. Damn.

I've liked director Catherine Hardwicke for a while now, and she certainly seems like a natural to take on this tale of teen angst. It wasn't until I started noticing the visual clues she put in (Edward proffers an apple, he sports an arm cuff with the Quileute symbol for cold one) that I started to think of her as clever. Well played, Hardwicke. As much as I thank Rosenberg for reeling the story in, Hardwicke's the one who pushed it out into the lush surroundings (stunning work by DP Elliot Davis) and past the essential whiteness of Meyer's story into colour blind territory. She even has us meet the trio of bad vamps (Cam Gigandet, Rachelle Lefevre, and Edi Gathegi) early, erasing the inertia of the source text.

All in all, it's quite the successful translation. Now if only they could have made it not quite so silly, and given the Cullens more to do. Kellan Lutz nails Emmett in few moments he has on screen, but I always want to spend more time with Carlisle (an unfortunately dyed but otherwise great Peter Faccinelli), Esme (a well-cast Elizabeth Reaser), Rosalie (a well turned bitch in Nicki Reed's hands, although the blonde hair makes her look more like Isla Fisher), Alice (total badass Ashley Greene), and Jasper (an oddly played but still adorable Jackson Rathbone). At least that baseball scene totally fucking rules. Of course they would wear those outfits. B

Also, I don't know if you know this, but Twilight coverage is hilarious. I mean, "Edward Cullen is a dreamboat Nosferatu for Hannah Montana times."? Funny stuff. Very funny.