The Molson Canal Concert Series was transformed into a good old-fashioned hoedown on Friday night as the attendees were treated to a rousing 90 minutes of Southern-fried rock courtesy of the Charlie Daniels Band. The heat was on, the drinks were cold and the vitality of Daniels’s fiddle playing was enough to entice music lovers to endure what felt like the most sweat-soaked evening of 2009. People may not have known the name of every song, but they sure knew the lyrics once the opening riff hit, so needless to say there was no shortage of audience participation.
At 72 years young, Daniels displays more zest on stage than I would expect and has the innate ability to turn any number into a riotous jam session whenever the mood strikes. Songs like “The South’s Gonna Do It” and “Long-haired Country Boy” showed tremendous bite as the band lost itself in the groove and even the lesser-known tunes were able to bring the crowd to a roaring applause. They could’ve come out and played a country-infused version of “The Nutcracker” and fans would’ve been into it, because the group was exceptionally tight and it’s not everyday that a legendary musician gives a free show in the unassuming city of Lockport.
Then again, it didn’t take much to rile this crowd, because first opener Ransomville delivered a commanding, well-received set that, to me, resembled more hard hock than country. Guitarists John Rosini and Rob Burgio (both former members of Seven Day Faith) each treat the instrument like their own personal playground and somehow find a way to make country music seem less predictable.
Their spirited take on Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” was impressive, while the original material worked even better than on the album. It might sound strange, but a few of their heavier tunes came off as a twangy Buckcherry at times, so I’m interested to see how they progress in the future.
Second opener Her and Kings County was just as lively as radiant vocalist Monique Staffile led the band through a series of whimsical party tunes that showcased how diverse the event really was. The combination of a unique stage presence and her dynamic vocal ability set the tone for an entertaining set featuring some killer work on both the banjo and steel pedal guitar.
As someone who doesn’t even like country music, I can’t deny the stellar array of musicianship offered by all three groups and wouldn’t mind if they wound up on next year’s schedule. It was the perfect alignment of music, ambiance and weather, so here’s hoping this Friday’s finale with Randy Bachman is up to the challenge.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
A Tribute to John Hughes
I thought long and hard about how I wanted to do this, but what can really be said about writer/director John Hughes that hasn’t already been put forth? He was the impassioned voice of a generation, a pensive, level-headed auteur who brought the plight of the American teenager into the mainstream without all the sneering condescension. He shunned the “young and stupid” cliché by treating youths with the respect they deserved and rarely fashioned a script that didn’t contain a surplus of downcast yet quotable anecdotes reflecting the human condition. His characters were one-of-a-kind in their eccentricity which, to me, only makes his death more difficult to swallow, because we’ll never know what oddball creation he might have introduced next.
After all, we’re talking about the same guy who scoffed at authority in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” tackled class differences with “Pretty in Pink” and made the phrase “neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie” part of the pop culture lexicon. Furthermore, I don’t think there’s a guy between the ages of 25 and 45 who doesn’t get excited just thinking about Kelly LeBrock standing in Wyatt’s doorway toward the beginning of “Weird Science,” so the impact Hughes had goes beyond mere entertainment value.
His success was the product of a Reagan-controlled universe in which kids either acquiesced to the corporate lifestyle or risked being called a “burnout” the rest of their life.
Some call it exploitation, but that implies a degree of mean-spiritedness on Hughes’s part that didn’t exist in the slightest. He simply constructed a cinematic world where high-schoolers could be themselves and not have to be ashamed of going against the grain. For once, someone in the media wasn’t treating them like second-class citizens and they loved every minute of it.
Instead of doing a full-on retrospective, I’ve decided to highlight five films and quotes that I feel best define the legacy of this beloved filmmaker. If your favorite doesn’t appear on the list or you’d like to add your own thoughts to the mix, feel free to comment at your leisure. I’m always looking for a good debate, so bring it on…
*I love “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” as much as anyone, but it’s been talked about to death, so I decided not to include it here.
Films –
“National Lampoon’s Vacation” – Hughes didn’t direct this instant classic, but he did pen a script that showcased Chevy Chase’s ability to elicit a laugh from any situation imaginable. Whether it’s the picnic scene or the babbling father-son talks, it’s difficult to watch without emitting even the most temperate giggle.
“The Breakfast Club” – Since this happens to be my personal favorite, I’ll defend its quality to no end simply because of the filthy one-liners that spew out of Judd Nelson’s mouth at every turn. His rugged exterior makes for an array of laugh-out-loud moments and the fact that everybody knows he’s full of it only adds to the hi-jinx. If you’re one of the few people on Earth who hasn’t seen it, consider it a must, because Hughes’s ability to blend humor with irascible parental issues has never been better.
“Pretty in Pink” – Once again, he only wrote the script, but with a cast featuring Molly Ringwald, Jon Cryer, Andrew McCarthy, James Spader and Annie Potts, how can you possibly go wrong? The age-old tale of forbidden love is played out expertly as Ringwald and McCarthy pursue a relationship despite coming from opposite ends of the economic spectrum, while Cryer creates a character sure to live forever in the minds of women who wish they had a “Duckie” to turn to in times of despair. Great stuff.
“Planes, Trains and Automobiles” – The pairing of Steve Martin and John Candy is pure genius from beginning to end. Enough said.
“Uncle Buck”/”Home Alone” – Both films feature John Candy and Macaulay Culkin and they’re both hysterical works that have a high-volume of repeatability. I love both of them dearly and feel they should be staples for any budding film fanatic young enough to idolize Kevin McAllister.
Quotes –
“Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?” – John Bender (The Breakfast Club)
“Drinking and driving don’t mix. That’s why I ride a bike.” – Duckie (Pretty in Pink)
“Will milk be made available to us?” – John Bender (The Breakfast Club)
“How 'bout a nice greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray?” – Chet (Weird Science)
“Can I borrow your underpants for 10 minutes?” – The Geek (Sixteen Candles)
After all, we’re talking about the same guy who scoffed at authority in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” tackled class differences with “Pretty in Pink” and made the phrase “neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie” part of the pop culture lexicon. Furthermore, I don’t think there’s a guy between the ages of 25 and 45 who doesn’t get excited just thinking about Kelly LeBrock standing in Wyatt’s doorway toward the beginning of “Weird Science,” so the impact Hughes had goes beyond mere entertainment value.
His success was the product of a Reagan-controlled universe in which kids either acquiesced to the corporate lifestyle or risked being called a “burnout” the rest of their life.
Some call it exploitation, but that implies a degree of mean-spiritedness on Hughes’s part that didn’t exist in the slightest. He simply constructed a cinematic world where high-schoolers could be themselves and not have to be ashamed of going against the grain. For once, someone in the media wasn’t treating them like second-class citizens and they loved every minute of it.
Instead of doing a full-on retrospective, I’ve decided to highlight five films and quotes that I feel best define the legacy of this beloved filmmaker. If your favorite doesn’t appear on the list or you’d like to add your own thoughts to the mix, feel free to comment at your leisure. I’m always looking for a good debate, so bring it on…
*I love “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” as much as anyone, but it’s been talked about to death, so I decided not to include it here.
Films –
“National Lampoon’s Vacation” – Hughes didn’t direct this instant classic, but he did pen a script that showcased Chevy Chase’s ability to elicit a laugh from any situation imaginable. Whether it’s the picnic scene or the babbling father-son talks, it’s difficult to watch without emitting even the most temperate giggle.
“The Breakfast Club” – Since this happens to be my personal favorite, I’ll defend its quality to no end simply because of the filthy one-liners that spew out of Judd Nelson’s mouth at every turn. His rugged exterior makes for an array of laugh-out-loud moments and the fact that everybody knows he’s full of it only adds to the hi-jinx. If you’re one of the few people on Earth who hasn’t seen it, consider it a must, because Hughes’s ability to blend humor with irascible parental issues has never been better.
“Pretty in Pink” – Once again, he only wrote the script, but with a cast featuring Molly Ringwald, Jon Cryer, Andrew McCarthy, James Spader and Annie Potts, how can you possibly go wrong? The age-old tale of forbidden love is played out expertly as Ringwald and McCarthy pursue a relationship despite coming from opposite ends of the economic spectrum, while Cryer creates a character sure to live forever in the minds of women who wish they had a “Duckie” to turn to in times of despair. Great stuff.
“Planes, Trains and Automobiles” – The pairing of Steve Martin and John Candy is pure genius from beginning to end. Enough said.
“Uncle Buck”/”Home Alone” – Both films feature John Candy and Macaulay Culkin and they’re both hysterical works that have a high-volume of repeatability. I love both of them dearly and feel they should be staples for any budding film fanatic young enough to idolize Kevin McAllister.
Quotes –
“Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?” – John Bender (The Breakfast Club)
“Drinking and driving don’t mix. That’s why I ride a bike.” – Duckie (Pretty in Pink)
“Will milk be made available to us?” – John Bender (The Breakfast Club)
“How 'bout a nice greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray?” – Chet (Weird Science)
“Can I borrow your underpants for 10 minutes?” – The Geek (Sixteen Candles)
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Angels and Demons, Brüno and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
When Ron Howard’s “The Da Vinci Code” hit theatres in May of 2006, I called it a “wildly entertaining story full of twists and intellectual intrigue guaranteed to make devout followers of Christ gasp when presented with such nonsense.” Sure, it had its issues regarding chemistry and a demented, self-mutilating Paul Bettany, but at least it provided two-plus hours of harmless summer entertainment that kept me breezily entranced.
With “Angels and Demons,” however, I got the feeling that Howard was riding high on the heels of “Frost/Nixon” and made a conscious decision to mail in an effort void of all vigor and narrative cohesion. I struggle to think of one aspect that genuinely moved me, because it felt more like a third-rate, ecclesiastical scavenger hunt than a popcorn flick deserving of so much undivided attention.
The film flat-out stinks worse than the time Chris Matthews tried to bust a move on “Ellen” and I’d hate to think that, at age 53, Tom Hanks has resigned himself to this type of cookie-cutter production. The film moved along at such a humdrum tempo that I had to propel myself to keep watching because, in the end, the story tacked on one crooked clergyman too many and could’ve used about 20-30 minutes worth of cuts to make things less convoluted.
Oy vey!
- * ½ out of 4
Sacha Baron Cohen takes “Bruno” to places that I never thought I’d see in a mainstream comedy. Actually, he takes the contemptible mockumentary to places that I never really wanted to see in a mainstream comedy but, then again, it’s that utter disregard for taste and societal acceptance that makes him one of the funniest comedic artists on the planet. The humor in this shameless saga of a gay Austrian fashionista provides a few of the craziest laugh-out-loud moments I’ve seen from any medium all year and will likely end up as the most divisive movie of 2009 not called Lars Von Trier’s “Antichrist.”
Does he go too far? Probably, but did anyone expect him not too? Whether it’s Bruno or Borat, the whole point of Cohen’s shtick is to make both the participants and the audience feel as ill at ease as possible while highlighting the idiocy of people from all walks of life. I can’t really say any more than that because, if seeing is believing, this is one shocker that needs to be seen before the censors decide to kill the first amendment indefinitely.
- *** ½ out of 4
Rather than rail on director David Yates for taking a few audacious liberties with J.K. Rowling’s beloved source material, I’ll just say that “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” is, to me, the most humanistic (If that’s even possible) film yet to be made about the world of Hogwarts.
For the first time, the three main characters are allowed to be compassionate, full-fledged teenagers who are just as concerned about romance as they are wizardry and somehow that little bit of muggle savvy provides the missing piece of the Potter puzzle. The capricious element is balanced beautifully against the newfound backdrop of teen angst and the only thing that keeps it from being the finest of the series is the gross overuse of Nicholas Hooper’s dreary musical arrangements.
Luckily, Jim Broadbent was available to liven things up, because his Oscar-worthy portrayal of Professor Horace Slughorn radiates with the kind of manic irreverence that keeps the story from becoming too much like an episode of “Degrassi: The Next Generation.”
He’s the idyllic antidote to Severus Snape’s über-deathly disposition and I can’t say enough about the luminosity of his work here. One can only hope that the next guest they bring in can match his level of pub-induced gusto, because the secondary players are often the most interesting to watch.
As for the story itself, Yates picks up the action directly where “Order of the Phoenix” left off as Harry is reeling after the murder of Sirius Black by Bellatrix Lestrange (My personal favorite) as well as beginning to ease into his role as the so-called “chosen one.”
He’s absolved himself of the whole Cho Chang debacle and now has his sights set on Ron’s younger sister Ginny, who is just as eager to move forward with the relationship. His gravest challenge remains figuring out how to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all with Ron and Hermione prepared to help him every step of the way.
Daniel Radcliffe makes strides in his sixth stint as the title character, but his performance doesn’t demand your attention the way some of the unsung people do.
Personally, I’m more entertained watching Helena Bonham Carter unleash the zaniness as the aforementioned Lestrange and Evanna Lynch exude the most endearing presence of all as Luna Lovegood. These are the people I come to see because, with the laundry list of talent these movies tend to boast, it’s easy for the three leads to get pushed aside when the showier roles take center stage.
In theory, this installment had the potential to be the best yet, but ultimately suffered from a botched final act that packed the emotional punch of a National Enquirer cover story. All the darkness that had been building up through the years never quite manifested itself the way I hoped it would so, if Yates wants to redeem himself, he needs to make The Deathly Hallows as close to the book as possible. I’ve read the final installment and, if Yates does it the right way, we could be looking at something that’ll force the Academy to finally take notice.
- *** out of 4
With “Angels and Demons,” however, I got the feeling that Howard was riding high on the heels of “Frost/Nixon” and made a conscious decision to mail in an effort void of all vigor and narrative cohesion. I struggle to think of one aspect that genuinely moved me, because it felt more like a third-rate, ecclesiastical scavenger hunt than a popcorn flick deserving of so much undivided attention.
The film flat-out stinks worse than the time Chris Matthews tried to bust a move on “Ellen” and I’d hate to think that, at age 53, Tom Hanks has resigned himself to this type of cookie-cutter production. The film moved along at such a humdrum tempo that I had to propel myself to keep watching because, in the end, the story tacked on one crooked clergyman too many and could’ve used about 20-30 minutes worth of cuts to make things less convoluted.
Oy vey!
- * ½ out of 4
Sacha Baron Cohen takes “Bruno” to places that I never thought I’d see in a mainstream comedy. Actually, he takes the contemptible mockumentary to places that I never really wanted to see in a mainstream comedy but, then again, it’s that utter disregard for taste and societal acceptance that makes him one of the funniest comedic artists on the planet. The humor in this shameless saga of a gay Austrian fashionista provides a few of the craziest laugh-out-loud moments I’ve seen from any medium all year and will likely end up as the most divisive movie of 2009 not called Lars Von Trier’s “Antichrist.”
Does he go too far? Probably, but did anyone expect him not too? Whether it’s Bruno or Borat, the whole point of Cohen’s shtick is to make both the participants and the audience feel as ill at ease as possible while highlighting the idiocy of people from all walks of life. I can’t really say any more than that because, if seeing is believing, this is one shocker that needs to be seen before the censors decide to kill the first amendment indefinitely.
- *** ½ out of 4
Rather than rail on director David Yates for taking a few audacious liberties with J.K. Rowling’s beloved source material, I’ll just say that “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” is, to me, the most humanistic (If that’s even possible) film yet to be made about the world of Hogwarts.
For the first time, the three main characters are allowed to be compassionate, full-fledged teenagers who are just as concerned about romance as they are wizardry and somehow that little bit of muggle savvy provides the missing piece of the Potter puzzle. The capricious element is balanced beautifully against the newfound backdrop of teen angst and the only thing that keeps it from being the finest of the series is the gross overuse of Nicholas Hooper’s dreary musical arrangements.
Luckily, Jim Broadbent was available to liven things up, because his Oscar-worthy portrayal of Professor Horace Slughorn radiates with the kind of manic irreverence that keeps the story from becoming too much like an episode of “Degrassi: The Next Generation.”
He’s the idyllic antidote to Severus Snape’s über-deathly disposition and I can’t say enough about the luminosity of his work here. One can only hope that the next guest they bring in can match his level of pub-induced gusto, because the secondary players are often the most interesting to watch.
As for the story itself, Yates picks up the action directly where “Order of the Phoenix” left off as Harry is reeling after the murder of Sirius Black by Bellatrix Lestrange (My personal favorite) as well as beginning to ease into his role as the so-called “chosen one.”
He’s absolved himself of the whole Cho Chang debacle and now has his sights set on Ron’s younger sister Ginny, who is just as eager to move forward with the relationship. His gravest challenge remains figuring out how to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all with Ron and Hermione prepared to help him every step of the way.
Daniel Radcliffe makes strides in his sixth stint as the title character, but his performance doesn’t demand your attention the way some of the unsung people do.
Personally, I’m more entertained watching Helena Bonham Carter unleash the zaniness as the aforementioned Lestrange and Evanna Lynch exude the most endearing presence of all as Luna Lovegood. These are the people I come to see because, with the laundry list of talent these movies tend to boast, it’s easy for the three leads to get pushed aside when the showier roles take center stage.
In theory, this installment had the potential to be the best yet, but ultimately suffered from a botched final act that packed the emotional punch of a National Enquirer cover story. All the darkness that had been building up through the years never quite manifested itself the way I hoped it would so, if Yates wants to redeem himself, he needs to make The Deathly Hallows as close to the book as possible. I’ve read the final installment and, if Yates does it the right way, we could be looking at something that’ll force the Academy to finally take notice.
- *** out of 4
Monday, July 13, 2009
The Cult delivers despite placid crowd
From the moment frontman Ian Astbury said “Let’s show these Americans how to rock and roll,” you could feel the crowd starting to pull away. Whatever frenzied goodwill he and the rest of The Cult generated seemed to evaporate with each anti-American slip of the tongue and, believe me, there were plenty of ill-advised pot shots to go around. One could say that his remarks were in bad taste, but judging from the attendees’ overall lack of enthusiasm; I can’t really blame him for trying to ignite their nationalistic fire.
Opening with a fiery rendition of “Lil’ Devil,” The Cult immediately let people know that they’re still a force to be reckoned with in the rock universe. Astbury’s soulfully operatic vocal styling hasn’t lost one iota of its passion and lead guitarist Billy Duffy tears through the fretboard as if the guitar said that his mother wears army boots. Every power chord more torrential than the last, every solo navigated with the utmost attention to detail. The only thing absent was a little Mac and Jack’s Wonder Potion to get the crowd’s energy levels peaking (That’s my only Michael Jackson reference, I promise), because then the band would’ve had something palpable to feed off of.
About halfway through the set, Astbury began to imitate the comatose audience members by standing still with his arms folded to the side to signal the apex of his consternation. How they managed to put together 70 minutes of exuberant hard rock is a mystery to me, because it just didn’t have the anarchic vibe usually present at shows of this nature. Had it been 1988, things may have turned out differently, but I guess we’ll never know.
Highlights of the evening include an exquisite “Edie (Ciao Baby),” a boisterous “Fire Woman” and an immaculate one-two punch of “Love Removal Machine” and “She Sells Sanctuary” to cap off a perfect summer evening.
Usually, you need to be Christian Bale in “The Machinist” just to maneuver your way through the mess, but not on this night. On this night, the gaps were just begging to be filled by fans who know a killer rock show when they see one. Those who were there should cherish it, because if Friday’s tepid overtone meant anything, The Cult might never set foot in Lockport again.
Opening with a fiery rendition of “Lil’ Devil,” The Cult immediately let people know that they’re still a force to be reckoned with in the rock universe. Astbury’s soulfully operatic vocal styling hasn’t lost one iota of its passion and lead guitarist Billy Duffy tears through the fretboard as if the guitar said that his mother wears army boots. Every power chord more torrential than the last, every solo navigated with the utmost attention to detail. The only thing absent was a little Mac and Jack’s Wonder Potion to get the crowd’s energy levels peaking (That’s my only Michael Jackson reference, I promise), because then the band would’ve had something palpable to feed off of.
About halfway through the set, Astbury began to imitate the comatose audience members by standing still with his arms folded to the side to signal the apex of his consternation. How they managed to put together 70 minutes of exuberant hard rock is a mystery to me, because it just didn’t have the anarchic vibe usually present at shows of this nature. Had it been 1988, things may have turned out differently, but I guess we’ll never know.
Highlights of the evening include an exquisite “Edie (Ciao Baby),” a boisterous “Fire Woman” and an immaculate one-two punch of “Love Removal Machine” and “She Sells Sanctuary” to cap off a perfect summer evening.
Usually, you need to be Christian Bale in “The Machinist” just to maneuver your way through the mess, but not on this night. On this night, the gaps were just begging to be filled by fans who know a killer rock show when they see one. Those who were there should cherish it, because if Friday’s tepid overtone meant anything, The Cult might never set foot in Lockport again.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Summer Movie Catch-Up
"Drag Me to Hell" - *** 1/2 out of 4 (I was too tired to review it)
As someone who’s never seen a minute of the original “Star Trek” television series, I found J.J. Abrams’s frenetically paced update to be extraordinary in every facet of the game. The action is incendiary, the script is refreshing and the cast gels together as well any Best Picture winner in recent memory. I, for one, don’t think it’s a stretch to call it the most rewarding Sci-Fi experience since 1999’s “The Matrix,” but I’ll save that argument for a later date. If you haven’t seen it yet, I suggest going soon, because it just wouldn’t be the same without the chaotic magnitude of your local multiplex.
- **** out of 4
“The Hangover” takes what classics such as “Animal House” and “Bachelor Party” did to a level that is almost guaranteed to make the audience keel over in a way that most comedies can’t even imagine. Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms and Zach Galifianakis are the perfect trio of impetuous misfits, because they actually buy into the “what happens in Vegas” philosophy to the point that not even the most morally repugnant behavior is off limits. Their escapades lead them to an emergency room, a police station and even Mike Tyson’s living room, where Galifianakis experiences first-hand what it feels like to get decked by the “Baddest Man on the Planet.” Every scene is pitch perfect in its mirth and even the most prudish individual should find something to crack a smile at because, in the end, it’s pretty effing hilarious.
- *** ½ out of 4
Tony Scott’s remake of “The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3” is the kind of breezy, snarling hostage flick you’ve seen a thousand times. Denzel Washington is the calm, cool and collected city employee whose ethical veracity is tested as he tries to put his kids through college. John Travolta is the intelligent, overconfident ex-convict who thinks that everything will play out according to his wily little plan.
When their lives intersect, the plot thickens and allows both of them to indulge in performances that are essentially predictable by their standards. Washington has played the devoted family man before and Travolta has been living off the slimy, silver-tongued criminal persona since “Face/Off,” so while their sardonic banter is fun to watch, the overall product would be best served on DVD.
- ** ½ out 4
*For the record, in no way, shape or form was this review based on Hasbro Action Figures
Comedian George Carlin used to spend countless hours ranting and raving about the manufacturing of American bullshit and I can’t help but think that his contempt was inspired by Michael Bay’s brazenly haphazard approach to movie making. I say this not because of some misplaced sense of animosity I have toward Bay, but because I didn’t buy one second of his latest commercial mind eraser “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.”
Seriously, am I the only one who thinks a five-year-old in his bedroom could’ve come up with a more compelling narrative?
Then again, why should I even bother exhausting so much vitriol on a film that rakes in money faster than a prostitute at the Bunny Ranch? It seems that whenever audiences lock on to something, they throw all rationality to the wind and convince themselves that a bloated, wasteful excuse for a summer popcorn movie is worthy of their devotion.
Personally, I approach a Michael Bay picture like something from M. Night Shayamalan in that I never let hope get it in the way of something I know will be more bologna than filet.
Anyway, back to the task at hand. I know I might be violating some fanboy law by saying this, but I don’t find the “Transformers” mythology to be the least bit interesting.
To me, the robots are predictable, the plot takes itself too seriously and the actors have nothing to do except run around screaming bloody murder. There’s no inherent drama in the story, because Bay has yet to figure out how to stage a scene of genuine emotion. He can, however, explore the heavenly anatomy of Megan Fox with expert precision, so I guess he’s not too far gone in that respect.
Shia LaBeouf tries like crazy to hold the film together, but the objective is really just to blow up as many things as possible and leave the audience in awe over American military technology. I was constantly reminded of those navy commercials with Godsmack blaring in the background, which is okay to a certain extent, but I could’ve easily stayed home and watched the commercial on YouTube without spending $7.50 on a ticket. Had Spielberg directed, I think he could’ve made this work, but Bay’s vision feels like someone vomited their imagination all over the screen and called it a day.
I’d like to think that with a little focus and professionalism, Bay can return to being a must-see director, because “Bad Boys,” “The Rock” and “The Island” were all quite good in their own hyperactive way. I would also put forth the notion that the audience is as much to blame as anybody, but that’s something I’ve touched on many times before, so I won’t delve into that here. That’s enough for now. I need to go find a tighter shirt.
- * ½ out of 4
As someone who’s never seen a minute of the original “Star Trek” television series, I found J.J. Abrams’s frenetically paced update to be extraordinary in every facet of the game. The action is incendiary, the script is refreshing and the cast gels together as well any Best Picture winner in recent memory. I, for one, don’t think it’s a stretch to call it the most rewarding Sci-Fi experience since 1999’s “The Matrix,” but I’ll save that argument for a later date. If you haven’t seen it yet, I suggest going soon, because it just wouldn’t be the same without the chaotic magnitude of your local multiplex.
- **** out of 4
“The Hangover” takes what classics such as “Animal House” and “Bachelor Party” did to a level that is almost guaranteed to make the audience keel over in a way that most comedies can’t even imagine. Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms and Zach Galifianakis are the perfect trio of impetuous misfits, because they actually buy into the “what happens in Vegas” philosophy to the point that not even the most morally repugnant behavior is off limits. Their escapades lead them to an emergency room, a police station and even Mike Tyson’s living room, where Galifianakis experiences first-hand what it feels like to get decked by the “Baddest Man on the Planet.” Every scene is pitch perfect in its mirth and even the most prudish individual should find something to crack a smile at because, in the end, it’s pretty effing hilarious.
- *** ½ out of 4
Tony Scott’s remake of “The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3” is the kind of breezy, snarling hostage flick you’ve seen a thousand times. Denzel Washington is the calm, cool and collected city employee whose ethical veracity is tested as he tries to put his kids through college. John Travolta is the intelligent, overconfident ex-convict who thinks that everything will play out according to his wily little plan.
When their lives intersect, the plot thickens and allows both of them to indulge in performances that are essentially predictable by their standards. Washington has played the devoted family man before and Travolta has been living off the slimy, silver-tongued criminal persona since “Face/Off,” so while their sardonic banter is fun to watch, the overall product would be best served on DVD.
- ** ½ out 4
*For the record, in no way, shape or form was this review based on Hasbro Action Figures
Comedian George Carlin used to spend countless hours ranting and raving about the manufacturing of American bullshit and I can’t help but think that his contempt was inspired by Michael Bay’s brazenly haphazard approach to movie making. I say this not because of some misplaced sense of animosity I have toward Bay, but because I didn’t buy one second of his latest commercial mind eraser “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.”
Seriously, am I the only one who thinks a five-year-old in his bedroom could’ve come up with a more compelling narrative?
Then again, why should I even bother exhausting so much vitriol on a film that rakes in money faster than a prostitute at the Bunny Ranch? It seems that whenever audiences lock on to something, they throw all rationality to the wind and convince themselves that a bloated, wasteful excuse for a summer popcorn movie is worthy of their devotion.
Personally, I approach a Michael Bay picture like something from M. Night Shayamalan in that I never let hope get it in the way of something I know will be more bologna than filet.
Anyway, back to the task at hand. I know I might be violating some fanboy law by saying this, but I don’t find the “Transformers” mythology to be the least bit interesting.
To me, the robots are predictable, the plot takes itself too seriously and the actors have nothing to do except run around screaming bloody murder. There’s no inherent drama in the story, because Bay has yet to figure out how to stage a scene of genuine emotion. He can, however, explore the heavenly anatomy of Megan Fox with expert precision, so I guess he’s not too far gone in that respect.
Shia LaBeouf tries like crazy to hold the film together, but the objective is really just to blow up as many things as possible and leave the audience in awe over American military technology. I was constantly reminded of those navy commercials with Godsmack blaring in the background, which is okay to a certain extent, but I could’ve easily stayed home and watched the commercial on YouTube without spending $7.50 on a ticket. Had Spielberg directed, I think he could’ve made this work, but Bay’s vision feels like someone vomited their imagination all over the screen and called it a day.
I’d like to think that with a little focus and professionalism, Bay can return to being a must-see director, because “Bad Boys,” “The Rock” and “The Island” were all quite good in their own hyperactive way. I would also put forth the notion that the audience is as much to blame as anybody, but that’s something I’ve touched on many times before, so I won’t delve into that here. That’s enough for now. I need to go find a tighter shirt.
- * ½ out of 4
Friday, June 19, 2009
The Girlfriend Experience and Terminator Salvation
If you’ve ever wondered how call girls have weathered the economic collapse, Steven Soderbergh’s “The Girlfriend Experience” is the film for you. It follows the mundane day-to-day operations of a high-priced escort (Sasha Grey) who continues to rake in the dough while her clients complain about the stock market’s cataclysmic demise. She’s your typical materialistic pod person, motivated by a desire to have enough money to escape the world she finds such an utter disappointment. The relationship with her live-in boyfriend feels more like a fiscal arrangement than a genuine partnership and most of the picture consists of boring anecdotes surrounding their longing for social independence.
For an adult film star, Grey doesn’t bring much to the table in terms of acting and I couldn’t care less about another story diarizing the “woe is me” lifestyle of an upper echelon prostitute. I admire Soderbergh’s willingness to experiment with alternative techniques, but it doesn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know about the profession. It assumes we’re actually interested in a joyless hooker with a heart of stone and I wasn’t about to let it draw me in with its flashy camera angles. If you ask me, it’s a snoozer just waiting to be discovered on DVD.
- ** out of 4
My biggest issue with McG’s “Terminator Salvation” is that it feels more like a “Transformers” scrap heap than the “Terminator” we’ve come to know and love. All the horror and menacing obscurity is ditched in favor of gawky, earsplitting battle scenes designed to make you forget about the nonexistence of drama and sense of direction. Not even the halfhearted presence of Christian Bale could make things more engaging and, when that happens, you know you’re in for a long evening.
I remember feeling chilled to the bone following my first viewing of “Terminator 2: Judgment Day” (I was seven), but walking out of this I just felt distraught that such a riveting concept could be reduced to another overproduced summer let-down. I’ll admit that a few of the action sequences were outstanding and I did think Sam Worthington did his best with the limited development he was allowed. In the end though, everything seemed too hollow and diluted for my taste, so I guess all I can say to McG is better luck next time.
- ** out of 4
For an adult film star, Grey doesn’t bring much to the table in terms of acting and I couldn’t care less about another story diarizing the “woe is me” lifestyle of an upper echelon prostitute. I admire Soderbergh’s willingness to experiment with alternative techniques, but it doesn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know about the profession. It assumes we’re actually interested in a joyless hooker with a heart of stone and I wasn’t about to let it draw me in with its flashy camera angles. If you ask me, it’s a snoozer just waiting to be discovered on DVD.
- ** out of 4
My biggest issue with McG’s “Terminator Salvation” is that it feels more like a “Transformers” scrap heap than the “Terminator” we’ve come to know and love. All the horror and menacing obscurity is ditched in favor of gawky, earsplitting battle scenes designed to make you forget about the nonexistence of drama and sense of direction. Not even the halfhearted presence of Christian Bale could make things more engaging and, when that happens, you know you’re in for a long evening.
I remember feeling chilled to the bone following my first viewing of “Terminator 2: Judgment Day” (I was seven), but walking out of this I just felt distraught that such a riveting concept could be reduced to another overproduced summer let-down. I’ll admit that a few of the action sequences were outstanding and I did think Sam Worthington did his best with the limited development he was allowed. In the end though, everything seemed too hollow and diluted for my taste, so I guess all I can say to McG is better luck next time.
- ** out of 4
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Days 2 and 3 - Jazz and Indian Cuisine
I've really had nothing to complain about for the last two days, so something unusual must be in the air.
Thursday - I went to see former Yankees outfielder Bernie Williams perform a four-song set at Borders, which was quite a departure from my hard rock affinity, but very entertaining nonetheless. His approach to the guitar is cordial rather than in-your-face, so each song's Puerto Rican mystique translated beautifully to the unplugged format and left the audience wanting more. Despite the electric disdain I have for waiting in lines, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet one of my childhood heroes, so I decided to stay after and weather the storm.
Friday - Not much to report other than my first experience with Indian food, which was surprisingly pain free. I don't know how eager I am to give it another go but, for one night, the Tandoori chicken with white rice and spiced broccoli definitely hit the spot.
Also, I went to see Todd Phillips's new comedy "The Hangover," which I'll delve into at a later date, so stay tuned.
Thursday - I went to see former Yankees outfielder Bernie Williams perform a four-song set at Borders, which was quite a departure from my hard rock affinity, but very entertaining nonetheless. His approach to the guitar is cordial rather than in-your-face, so each song's Puerto Rican mystique translated beautifully to the unplugged format and left the audience wanting more. Despite the electric disdain I have for waiting in lines, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet one of my childhood heroes, so I decided to stay after and weather the storm.
Friday - Not much to report other than my first experience with Indian food, which was surprisingly pain free. I don't know how eager I am to give it another go but, for one night, the Tandoori chicken with white rice and spiced broccoli definitely hit the spot.
Also, I went to see Todd Phillips's new comedy "The Hangover," which I'll delve into at a later date, so stay tuned.
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