Give (Alien) Peace a Chance: I am Number Four

There is a lot of unnecessary hate out there for this film. Then again, teen movies aren't favorites with everyone. The dialogues are usually campy and (st)uttered by inexperienced players. The sexual tension gets old fast. The plot lines (virgin has relations with apple pie; vampire falls in love with uncoordinated tomboy; redheaded sophomore's birthday goes unnoticed; etc.) are far-fetched and sometimes silly. In this regard, D.J. Caruso's I Am Number Four  blends in perfectly, because on some level (and older viewers might do well to remember this) ALL TEEN FILMS ARE RIDICULOUS. So if you're okay with a little bit of ridiculousness, are able to appreciate the nostalgia of teen-dom, and enjoy science fiction, this film is for you. 

First off, don't be fooled by dismissive comparisons to The Twilight Saga; this film is actually nothing like Twilight except for the teenage characters and the sharpness of the enemies' teeth, but that's honestly reaching, a lot. If the film was influenced by anything, it was by the science fiction/thriller aspects of television shows like The Twilight Zone, The X-Files, and if I want to reach some more, evenLOST or The Matrix. The film opens with an unseen creature chasing a young man (Number Three) through a jungle. The star of the story, Number Four, has unnatural physical powers (legacies) that becomes stronger when his emotions flare. And throughout the film, verbal homages are paid, "You mean those 'truth is out there' freaks?" and "my entire childhood has been an episode of X-files." Even the title fits in on a very basic level among Twilight Zone writers' selections---Richard Matheson's I Am Legend and Charles Beaumont/John Tomerlin's Number Twelve Looks Just Like You.

This film works because of two things: the casting and the effects. The length (only 109 minutes) and the music didn't hurt, either. The entire production was extremely well cast, but topping the list were the two principals, Pettyfer and Agron. They both gave their characters an almost subtle, hesitant charm, choosing eye-rolls and smirks over stuttering or squinting (there were a few neck-clenches, however). The first kiss between them strikes a chord by providing the words every lovesick teenager wants to hear; "All I think about is you." Also well cast was Timothy Olyphant (Go, Deadwood, Justified), who, while a little young for a father figure role, is always a good business decision. His first scene shows him wonderfully shaggy-haired and in beach bum attire, looking very much like a version of LOST'S famed pilot, Frank Lapidus. Speaking of LOST, alum Kevin Durand (who plays the lead Mog) just can't get a break. If playing awful commando Martin Keamy wasn't a plague on his soon-to-be-typecast-as-a-disgusting-villain-for-the-rest-of-his-life house, then I don't know what is. All the sneering, inhaling, and delight in the causing of pain suit him perfectly; Durand is a legitimate fright. 

sick! 

The story is about Number Four (played by Alex Pettyfer), an alien from the planet Lorien living on Earth with his protector, Henri (played by Timothy Olyphant). Forced to leave their home because of enemy attacks, the two are on the lam from the Mogadorians or Mogs, who are searching for Four and the others like him (the first three have been destroyed already bringing Four's number up on the hit list). Henri tries to convince Four (or John, as he's called in public) to keep a low profile but Sarah (Glee's Dianna Agron), a blossoming young photographer catches his eye and things start to get difficult. Loriens mate for life, you see. Sarah used to date the star quarterback, who is a bully. The bullying happens mostly to a young underclassman who believes his father was carried off by aliens, which turns out to be correct. All this drama causes Four to often lose control of his powers and open a little kick-ass from time to time, allowing the Mogs and another mysterious number to easily track where he's hiding through web postings and Youtube. There come slightly awkward scenes. Explosions. And an extremely stylized ending (where Michael Bay's hand in production becomes evident), but you know something? It all works.

Yes.

In terms of the effects, everything flowed really well and was impressive. The Mogadorians looked scary, Four (and Six) could do cool tricks, and the Matrix-calibre end battle was well done. Yes, a lot of what happened was far-fetched and at times a little silly, but this picture was never meant to be an exercise in reality. If you ask me, the kids did just fine. Sequels? See you there.

Spartacus Vengeance Finale

Friday is the season finale of Spartacus, Vengeance on Starz. I was feeling very lukewarm about the entire season until last week's episode, Monsters, set almost everything right again.

1. Gannicus and Oenomaus finally make peace. Unfortunately it comes out of of Oenomaus losing an eye and probably most of his hand, but their feud, though legitimate, concerned me all season.

2. Monsters (ha) Glaber and Illthyia are for the moment, back in business together. This needed to happen. I love those two as an awful, scheming, couple of hate and death. Good luck raising Spartacus, Jr., though.

3. The secondary stories of Mira and Naevia are done. Thank God.

4. Someone please get rid of Ashur. I can barely help throwing up every time he comes on screen. I hope Lucretia takes care of this creep, once and for all. YUCK.

5. Gannicus. As always, DAMN. His survival pretty much is the deciding factor in whether or not I keep watching the show . . . so far, so good. May the odds continue to be in his favor (!) There would be something oddly thrilling if in the end, he could hook up with the blond German girl, too; she's kind of annoying but seems lively.

No love for the honest man: Coriolanus

Coriolanus, 2011. Directed by Ralph Fiennes
Starring: Ralph Fiennes, Gerard Butler, Brian Cox, Jessica Chastain, Vanessa Redgrave

"A banished hero of Rome allies with a sworn enemy to take his revenge on the city." (IMDB).

This is a film for lovers of
-Shakespeare
-Ralph Fiennes
-violence

Lucky, lucky you are if you love all three, because it was quite an amazing production. The violence was gritty and disturbing. The performances (in verse) were beautifully inspiring. Hell, even the location titles (A PLACE CALLING ITSELF ROME, ANTIUM, CORIOLES, etc.) got me a little giddy. It just really came together well, and was actually quite well-suited for a modern adaptation. Colin Covert (Star Tribune) said in his review that Coriolanus (Fiennes) was a hard guy to understand, and used the word "bipolar," and maybe that's fair. But if you're able to see this man for who he truly is----a general who is extremely good at his job but has no desire to kiss ass or self-promote himself and who loves his mother above all else, his actions will make perfect sense. I saw him as a rare, honest, man who refused to play games; clearly, this does not make things easy for him and causes one hell of a lot of upset. Also impossible to ignore in this story is the mother aspect, which is played magnificently between Fiennes and Redgrave---it's pretty powerful. (MOTHER IS THE WORD FOR GOD ON THE HEARTS AND LIPS OF ALL LITTLE CHILDREN) Et, tu, Martius? Yeah, I'm a broken record.


The only real criticism I have is something minor, and more of a silly annoyance for me, personally----there are some hand-held camera segments, very wobbly, very close and jumpy, that are effective in illustrating the chaos and out-of-control feelings being experienced by the characters, but if you're prone to motion sickness or discomfort, just be warned; it gets intense and lasts for quite a while. Mercifully, when these shots end, they are immediately countered by long, wide, empty landscape shots, but the bad parts almost bothered me enough to want to either leave or close my eyes (having felt as though someone just beat the hell out of me while simultaneously slipping me some fast-acting rufies.)

Eye candy: I happen to think Ralph Fiennes is extremely hot, and always have. He's better with hair, and unfortunately he's bald in nearly all of this, but there are some cool, modern segments where his baldness and later, re-shaving of his head along with that ridiculous barber's chair become a sort of initiation to the guys on the other side who eventually wind up following him (at their own general's implied expense). Yeah, and speaking of the other guy? I'd only seen Gerard Butler in that stupid flick he did with J-Aniston, which is a shame, because he's quite decent, and damn, an extremely hot Aufidius. Bonus for accents and tatts.

See? All you have to do to get more people interested in Shakespeare is to get some hot looking actors to sign on. But aesthetics aside, it's very much worth seeing.

News, Updates.

Andy Whitfield died yesterday after a battle with non-hodgkins lymphoma. This is incredibly sad; not just because he was so remarkable in his role in the television show Spartacus or that he was very young, but because cancer is just awful. I'll take a page from my favorite little Twilight Zone freak, Anthony Fremont's book and WISH CANCER INTO THE CORNFIELD. I hate it.



Secondly, I'll be doing a little Spartacus re-watch as a tribute to Andy very soon. Before I get to it, I have 5 more films left of your recommendations, it's been extremely slow going without a computer, but it will happen. I swear I've been reading the same Henry James book of short stories in the bath for the last three months, but you know, better late than never, I guess.

Looking good, Stackhouse.

True Blood ended last night; I think it needed to because if it got any more ridiculous I may have just cancelled HBO. You know things are pretty bad when JASON STACKHOUSE has been given the best story line, but I liked what happened with the vamps for the most part and wish there would have been more of just them, being vampy. Best scene by far was when Bill and Eric, uh, reacted to Nan's little using-Sookie-as-blackmail business, I was like, FINALLY! Heads off, 1, 2, 3, and Nan staked on the ground in a slippery mess (unfortunately no jar was available). Speaking of Talbot, the resurrection of Russell Edgington? Hell YES! Get that old Kraut up and kicking again! (I can say Kraut because I am one; he called Sookie a bitch in German last season so I'm guessing he's one, too). Anyway, the more vampires, the better.

For fall television, there are actually quite a few shows on my roster---Dexter, of course, Pan Am, Person of Interest (Hello, Ben Linus), and maybe the most exciting, American Horror Story, starting in October. Have you seen the ads for it? Nice leather suit creep in the red room! Between this and Insidious (back in March) I'll never be able to sleep with the lights off, again. And if I ever get time, I need to catch up on Mad Men and start Sons of Anarchy, The Walking Dead, and The Killing.

Damn. 

Thursday Treats

There's a new Spartacus trailer out, so I've been told. . . my hopes are that somehow, Gannicus might find his way back to the Ludus, even if Batiatus has fallen.

In the meantime:

HOLD. THE. PHONE.

What's this? JOSEPH FIENNES IS IN CAMELOT? Did I say I had absolutely no interest in this show? Strike that. See you there, Very-Fine-Juices. You're nearly as hot as your Voldemort-y brother.
Damn.

 

Newsworthy Items

1. Check out my review of Once Upon A Time in the Midwest On Examiner.com (by Minnesota director Matt Kowalski.)

2. I know I've gone on and on about this before, but Pirates of the Caribbean, At World's End? MY FAVORITE OF THE SERIES. Open up the floor for some debate, people, because I'm willing to go down with the proverbial ship (ha ha) that this is the best of the lot of them. Yeah, I'm a sequel bitch.


Look at Will's jaw as he kisses Elizabeth! It almost made my heart stop (and I hate Elizabeth)! Wow.







And look at THIS! That build-up to Will taking the helm after The Dutchman goes under the surface, the crew's ocean residue just falling off in glops because he, Captain Will Turner has taken over the ship and given them all a second chance, a new purpose? A-mazing.




3. Speaking of amazing, GUESS WHO I DREAMED ABOUT LAST NIGHT? I always thought that if I was going to dream of a firefighter from Rescue Me it'd be Tommy, but hey, I'm not complaining. Welcome, Franco! You, George Clooney, Viggo Mortonson, and Brett Farve compose a highly elite and celebrated group inside my head. . .

Casino

Yeah, I know. This was supposed to be Mafia March, right? Better late than never.

"A Half-a one-a these! A HAAAALF!"

Casino, 1995, directed by Martin Scorcese.
Written by Nicholas Pileggi.
starring: Robert DeNiro, Joe Pesci, Sharon Stone.

"Greed, deception, money, power, and murder occur between two mobsters." (imdb).

Jeez, that was a pretty lackluster description! If you can believe it, this was the first thing of Marty's I saw, and back then, I thought it was amazing. I still think it's worth watching, but knowing what I know now, I can safely say it's hardly the best of his films. This time I found it kind of over-long, bloated, and drowning in pop music. And Sharon Stone was decent, I guess, (nominated for Best Actress Oscar for this) but this time around I just kept envisioning KATE GOSSELIN the whole time, especially with that chopped 80s mop . . . thanks, reality TV. It was kind of sickening.

Also, there wasn't much *fun* in this film, it was pretty much all fights and not-nice people. What Goodfellas or The Sopranos (on deck tonight and tomorrow) did well, this film tanked at---and that's getting us to like the crew. Sam Rothstein (DeNiro) was good at his job and I kind of liked his constant pointing, arm gestures, and smoking, and clearly I'd still hit that a million times, but other than that he was kind of stuffy. Ginger (Stone) had a great wardrobe but was just not likable, at all. So that basically leaves Nicky Santoro (Joe Pesci) and Lester Diamond (JAMES WOODS!). Yes, I just said that James Woods was one of the best things about this film; he's a douche, but a well-done douche, and good for a few laughs at least. I think the best way to describe this film is a good (albeit long) introduction to Scorcese. If you like this, you'll *love* his other stuff. The clip below uses what I thought was the best song of the film, and slow-motions the in-the-end-they-all-get-whacked bit. And just to be clear, the cornfield scene shown is the G-rated version, compared to the actual film experience, length, sound of bats, etc. So if you do choose to see it, be aware. And don't let kids see this, either.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

News Events and American Psycho.

This month has already been a crazy one, and I'm trying to keep some semblance of organization going inside my head, therefore, you can consider this kind of a little newsletter/game plan post, as well as the send off to the Locked, Loaded, and Laid list, ended appropriately enough, with Patrick Bateman and American Psycho.

The biggest news this month is probably that I started officially writing (official, no-profanity) film reviews for Examiner.com! It's fun, so far, and quite a test of discipline since I've basically written first-person, foul-mouthed, devil-may-care "reviews" for four straight years; I had no idea how rusty I'd gotten at actual *writing.* Anyway, I'm still planning to keep up on Television Lady, here, but will be altering my format a little bit, just for consistency's sake. TL will still focus on television, and older release/cheese films, just like always, but new film releases will be covered on Examiner.com. Additionally, in order to keep local (which is what I've told them that I'll do), I'm going to be grabbing one film a week from Kowalski's Red Box and one from Washburn Library down the street, two places from my neighborhood. So I'm not leaving, I'm just . . . expanding. See you over there?

Also: I would like to open the floor to anyone who has anything to say, good films, bad films, television, guest blogging, and so on, let me know! Talk to me! Let's get something going, yeah?

And lastly: film vs. book.
American Psycho, 1991, by Bret Easton Ellis.
 Beginning on April Fools' Day 1989, American Psycho spans roughly three years in the life of wealthy young investment banker Patrick Bateman. Bateman, 26 years old when the story begins, narrates his everyday activities, from his daily life among the upper-class elite of New York to his forays into murder by nightfall. (wikipedia)

"These are terrible times." This obviously a very personal, very dark, hate-Valentine to the eighties from Ellis; someone just doesn't sit down and create a story like this out of thin air. If you were a child, like I was, during the eighties, it's possible that you too were unaware of just how bat-shit ridiculous the materialism and superficiality was, but clearly, it must have been massive. The descriptions of peoples' clothing labels, shoe and jewelry designers, costs of furniture, luggage, handbags, restaurant names, locations, menu offerings, costs, and fucking SKIN CARE ROUTINES literally go on for minimum, three pages each time there is a new setting and situation. The musical reviews (Huey Lewis, Phil Collins, Whitney Houston) also go on for days, but are somehow funnier than everything else because the artists are divorced from all the materialism, if you can imagine. As with any story with a million characters, some of who are mentioned once and never again, you start to filter out many of the names, but in this story, this faceless transparency business---everyone looking the same, everyone mistaking someone for someone else, and there being no real meaningful exchange about anything--is obviously the point of Patrick Bateman's issues. He wanted to fit in, but now that he has, he can't control his murderous rage at the world around him. And despite this, no one notices.

" . . . where there was nature and earth, life and water, I saw a desert landscape that was unending, resembling some sort of crater, so devoid of reason and light and spirit that the mind could not grasp it on any sort of conscious level and if you came close the mind would reel backward, unable to take it in . . . Fear, recrimination, innocence, sympathy, guilt, waste, failure, grief, were things, emotions, that no one felt anymore. Reflection is useless, the world is senseless. Evil is its only permanence. God is not alive. Love cannot be trusted. Surface, surface, surface was all that anyone found meaning in . . . this was civilization as I saw it, colossal and jagged."
Ending: THIS IS NOT AN EXIT. Fucking amazing.

American Psycho, 2000, directed by Mary Harron.
Written by Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner (screenplay)
starring: Christian Bale, Jared Leto, Reese Witherspoon, Justin Theroux

The film is a much different experience from the book, but a good one, too. Pretentious, violent, sexual. It's amazing to me just how much work it must have been for the screenwriters to cut into a novel like this (399 pages), sort through the meaty parts and then throw out a film that still seemed to capture what was at the heart of the novel. I dig Mary Harron, a lot. Bale was a great Bateman; everyone was actually well-cast. And you get that everyone is superficial, doesn't really have any loyalty to anyone else, mistakes names and faces constantly, and are silly tools with money, but the book explains this *way* more, like, to the letter. Regardless, the film had a very specific look to it---tons of blacks, whites, and reds; a really great soundtrack, and big hair!. The aesthetics were amazing, even above and beyond Bale's many, many skin scenes (FTW). There were a lot of little dialogue things that obviously weren't meant to be funny, but became funny just because of Bale's stiff, banana-in-the-tailpipe delivery: "I was probably returning videotapes." "No Lewis, it's not me, you're mistaken." "Do you like Phil Collins?" "Your name is Kristie. You are to respond only to Kristie."
Fun and ridiculous.

Rescue Me, Season One.

First off, this may just be my new favorite show. I am supposed to wait for Matt to watch any more episodes but I am considering being a big cheater and rolling through as many as I can at nap time . . . I used to do this with 24 and The Sopranos, too, and then I'd have to stay mum about having already seen the episodes, since I would (of course) watch them all over again a second time with Matt (cheater cheater cheater).

And secondly, I have developed a unnaturally obsessive case of lust for Tommy Gavin (Denis Leary). I cannot be the only one this has happened to, right? RIGHT?

The show is really, really (sarcastic, sexual, hilarious, tense, exciting) excellent. It's not at all politically correct, and that will kill it for probably a lot of viewers, but hey, there are all kinds of people in this world, and many of them have issues and aren't perfect but they're human beings---this show is a prime example of just that. My favorite thing about Tommy Gavin is probably his crazy obsession over his wife (from whom he's separated) and the way he parents his kids---"WHOEVER GOES TO BED RIGHT NOW GETS $20!"

It's not all sarcasm of course, there are some major events happening with these guys: Tommy's wife is seeing a douche-y investment banker and threatens to move out of state with their children; Lou still has trouble dealing with 9-11 so he secretly writes poetry which helps him to cope; Franco suddenly gets saddled with a daughter he didn't know he had; the Chief's wife might have Alzheimer's, and so on. Also there's the small issue of Tommy constantly seeing dead fire victims, most regularly, his dead cousin and fellow fire fighter, Jimmy. Denis Leary handles the dramatic parts of the show amazingly, making them almost more interesting than the snappy meanness he delivers for the majority of his scenes; vulnerability is a hard thing to capture but the show nails it, a lot, usually when you least expect it. Also contributing to this obsession over the show is the fact that Leary (together with Peter Tolan) wrote 84 episodes during the show's run between 2004 and 2010. Not exactly a lightweight.

Season 2: full steam ahead.

Something Wonderful.

You would think that by the fourth year of doing this blog I would somehow figure out how to not always be the last to know about good television, right? I just started watching Rescue Me.

I realize that not everyone is into Denis Leary's particular brand of crazy (I am), but this show is *amazingly* well written. I am hooked after three episodes. It wasn't just the sarcasm or the quickness or the extremely hot dudes, although these things were all really sweet; I think it was the scope of what was actually happening with these guys, Tommy Gavin (Leary), especially. I know people who do this, and just seeing a fraction of the stuff that happens inside a burning building was really worrisome. And impressive. And a total turn-on. Wow. 

I would *totally* hit that. Seriously.

Spartacus Finale, Oscars, Contest Winner.

I'll miss you, G.

1. Gods of the Arena Finale:

Congratulations, cast, crew, and creators of Spartacus, GOTA, your prequel was every bit as enjoyable as Blood and Sand, and the finale one of the best things all winter. I won't spoil anything about the ending, but really, I didn't see that one coming at all. Swoon, Gannicus (Dustin Clare). You're no Andy Whitfield, but you're something else, and you done good, son.

Oenomaus and Crixus? Looking forward to seeing you in 2012. And for the record, I loved the scenes in the finale when Lucretia first mentions shaving his beard and cutting his hair, then moments later just before the final battle, "CRIXUS! YOU'RE FIRST!" and we get a delicious look at the results . . . (!) Nicely done.


2. The Oscars.

As many of you probably already know, nothing pains me more than having to be a Debby Downer, (!) but was last night's award ceremony some sort of experiment in an Intro to Writing Awards Show class or something? Jeeeeesus Christ (as my old man used to say), would it kill you to hire an actual writer for something this major, or maybe some *experienced emcees?* I think Anne Hathaway was actually really trying quite hard, so, you know, good job there, but she and James Franco were horribly dull, not funny, and annoying all at once. Who wrote those intros? They were awful. If I were an emcee I would have complained. "We are fortunate to be able to breathe the same air as our next guest?" (! ! ! !) I doubt you'd come across anything that cheesy in a Stephanie Meyer novel! Those vignettes (opening segment where James and Anne are inserted into each Best Picture nominee, the auto-tune shit? The final Best Picture montage)---I've seen student films that had more talent and know-how.

What an enormous boner-kill. But congratulations to the winners, not only for nabbing the awards but for surviving that despicable program. Boo.

3. Oscar Fun Contest Winner: Elyssa Castillo, who correctly predicted *all* winners! (My husband also predicted all winners, but Elyssa submitted her answers first, so the prize is hers). Nice Job! I'm thinking of another contest for Mafia March, coming up, so stay tuned!!!!

Sin, Zero, Laura Palmer.

Yes, Yes, YES! I'd hit that for sure!

Sin City, 2005, directed by Frank Miller and Robert Rodriguez.
Written by Frank Miller
starring: Bruce Willis, Jessica Alba, Mickey Rourke, Jamie King, Clive Owen, Brittany Murphy

"A film that explores the dark and miserable town, Basin City, and tells the story of three different people, all caught up in violent corruption." (IMDB).

This is enjoyable; visually, narratively, viscerally, all. I'm not a huge graphic novel reader, but I loved the look and feel of this film--all the black and whites (with reds and yellows thrown in for accent), splattering blood, how everyone was strikingly beautiful, even most of the hoodlums. And for some reason, the voiceover narratives really got me, I liked them a lot. I think probably because of all the sarcasm (precursor for Dexter's?)

My favorite section was Clive Owen (Dwight) joining forces with the professionals of Old Town: ("she made him into a pez-dispenser!") And the bit with the limb-devouring Elijah Wood was also good. Bookend scenes with Josh Harnett really made for a great open and close, it's a visually skillful, fun film. I think this might be the best thing on the LLL list; I recommend it highly.

No, no, NO!

Less Than Zero, 1987, directed by Marek Kanievska.
Written by Bret Easton Ellis (novel) and Harley Peyton (screenplay).
Starring: Andrew McCarthy, Jami Gertz, Robert Downey Junior.

"A college freshman returns to L.A. for the holidays at his ex-girlfriend's request, but discovers that his former best friend has an out-of-control drug habit." (IMDB).


This is so uncomfortable. I don't know which is worse, Jami Gertz's acting, the absolute legitimacy of RDJ's playing the addict, Julian, or FUCKING ANDREW MCCARTHY'S SWEATY, TONGUE-Y SEX SCENES. He was the same in St. Elmo's Fire, you'll probably remember. Stop it.

I actually welcomed the always-slimy James Spader just because it meant the other fools would shut up for 30 seconds. And literally had to look away for fear of heaving each time Clay (McCarthy) and Blair (Gertz) would start making out. . . YUCK.

The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer, 1990, written by Jennifer Lynch.

Yeesh. I hadn't read this in forever and then picked it up after FWWM last week; I don't think I can find anything nice to say about it. I guess it was interesting finding out the initials of all the people Laura slept with, but the characterizations of everyone, BOB, Leland, Bobby Briggs, and especially Jacques and Leo really seemed random and choppy, not at all like the characters we got to know in the series.

So I don't think it's exceptional writing, like, at all, and it's almost giving too much away, but this doesn't stop me from treasuring the two I own. . . it's about Twin Peaks and it's a book (!)

Anna Quindlen and Spartacus.

Strange bedfellows, I know, but I don't want to be one of those annoying bloggers that posts things every 30 seconds. My annoying bits will come all at once, thank you.

1. Rise and Shine, by Anna Quindlen, 2006.

I don't really know why I had this; maybe my mother left it here. In any case, I was trying really hard to make it through my Thomas Mann Reader (that I started back in October) but seeing as my nightly routine usually involves at least a couple alcoholic beverages after I eat and come down here to try and write, and then a bath with whatever book I'm reading; the concentration factor was a little lacking these last few weeks . . . I kept zoning out in the tub and then squinting and trying really hard to concentrate on Death in Venice, telling myself that I owe it to myself to have read this . . . Finally I just said FUCK IT this is too heady right now. I'll come back to it again later. And then I picked this up instead.

It was fine, I guess. Not exactly my cup of tea, but competent. She seems to be very descriptive and good with words, so good job there, but here's my thing: Wordy people need to be either funny (Diablo Cody) or I don't know, edge-y (Quentin Tarantino) for me to really say I enjoy their writing. She was just wordy. That's all I can say.

2. How Reading Changed My Life, 1998, by Anna Quindlen.

See? This is probably an example of what will happen to me someday. I'll absolutely shred myself trying to roll out decent, intelligent fiction or media criticisms but people will really only want to hear about my non-ficitonal past and a day in the life of four kids and the 3493898988 fecal incidents that accompany such a lifestyle. People love writers with a flare for describing fecal incidents.

I liked this a lot. I LOVE TO HEAR PEOPLE TALK ABOUT BOOKS, it just makes me happy. And I love reading lists. It could be a complete works of Larry the Cable Guy list and I would still love it just because it was a list of books. And what I was getting at up there before was that fiction writers are usually really gifted at telling their own stories, and I was far more interested in this (of Quindlen's) than the other title.

3. ON BATIATUS: (spoilers, a lot).

So clearly, I've had a little wine, there's a full moon, and I love *everyone* right now, but I've been meaning to say this for a while, now.

Spartacus has really excellent emotional exchanges.

-Lucretia loves Quintus enough to murder his disapproving father. "Tell me I was wrong about you."
"You were wrong. I am far worse."
-Quintus loves Lucretia enough to leave the Ludus with nothing, to give up everything to be with her.
-Gannicus! Being champion gladiator and engaging in drunken three ways fall to the wayside once he falls in love with Melitta. That whole relationship shift between them completely gives me chills. (RIP, Melitta).
-in Blood and Sand, Spartacus OVERTAKES THE HOUSE OF BATIATUS to avenge his wife's death. "Was she really such a woman?" Mira asks him. "She was the sun."
-in Blood and Sand Crixus, the former champion gladiator cries openly to Naevia, "I have ruined us!"
This entire show is an exercise in denied love.

Hot, Crixus, but please do *something* with that mop. . .

Finale next week. :(

Fire Walk With Me

Fire Walk With Me, 1992. Written and directed by David Lynch.
starring: Sheryl Lee, Ray Wise

This is by far my favorite of Lynch's films; like Twin Peaks but with nudity, bludgeoning, and swearing. RIGHT ON. What I like best about this film is the utter comedy thrown in (with all the jazz music, love for blonds, and fear of the elderly). I don't think I've laughed so hard in months as during the first hour of this film. Just ridiculous.

-Gordon Kohl's voice, "GET ME AGENT CHESTER DESMOND IN FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA!" and uncomfortable beat with secretary before she walks out. And pretty much Gordon Kohl's voice anytime, anywhere.

-The whole Lil production. Seriously. "CHET! YOUR SURPRISE!"

-The entire scene from start to finish in the diner. The flashing lights in the front room together with Jack's explanation about Irene. Irene herself. "Are you talking about that little girl that got murdered?" "I KNOW SHIT FROM SHINOLA!" Once again, "Are you talking about that little girl that got murdered?"

-Carl (played by Harry Dean Stanton). The sharpie-written threats on the door. "This is all just the way she left it, I ain't touched a GODDAMNED THING!" Good Morning America = coffee. And all the creepy random people wandering in and around Carl's trailer: WHERE'S MY GODDAMNED HOT WATER? HOT WATER, CARL!" he replies, "I'm gonna get you a Valium."
Harry Dean Stanton is a genius.

This is where we live, Shelly!

The comedy factor obviously goes down from there, but it's a lovely ride. David Lynch is an extremely strange man in his own little world, but seriously. The man loves blondes and can write awkward/funny; aces in my book.

One final note: Once while discussing this film, at the part where Laura is doing lines in her mismatched lingerie up in her bedroom, I said, "WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE WEARING?" My brother in law responded (completely deadpan), "Nothin' but the best for Jacques and Leo. . . "

Bobby Briggs: I would so hit that.

I just love it. After LOST, Twin Peaks has got to be my very favorite television event. And I'm glad (for my own health and safety) that I didn't see this in high school. Bobby Briggs would have done me in. This has all gotten me into a very Twin Peaks kind of mood. (Laura Palmer? See you later!)

Spartacus Love Triangle

Oenemaus? How you doin'?

Is anyone else watching Gods of the Arena? Hot, hot, HOT!






Despite the fact that I love the fighting, love the debauchery, and I love Quintus shouting, "HOUSE OF BATIATUS" every thirty seconds, the thing that's got me hooked is the love triangle between Oenomaus (Doctore), Mellita (his wife), and Gannicus.


Man, they were friends! This is serious!

It's so extremely well done that I'm scared for how it's going to end, and actually sitting here obsessing over it now. And as much as this pains me, I won't spoil it for anyone else by revealing any of the details, just know that it's really excellent.

Alexander.

Alexander, 2004. Written and directed by Oliver Stone.
starring: Colin Farrell, Val Kilmer, Angelina Jolie, Jared Leto, Anthony Hopkins.

"Alexander, the King of Macedonia and one of the greatest military leaders in the history of warfare, conquers much of the known world." (IMDB).

As far as epics go, this was fine. Not the greatest, but definitely not the worst, either (as anyone who's seen Lawrence of Arabia will probably agree). Oliver Stone knows how to lay out a film, but I do think it was slightly too long. Furthermore:

1. This needed to be gay-er. The only tender moments in the film happened between Alexander (Farrell) and his friend, confidant, and lover, Hephaistion (Leto). If you're trying to convince me that these two truly loved each other (which was a major part of the story and the way it ended), you're going to have to do better than putting eyeliner on Leto and having them hug each other a little longer than necessary. It wasn't enough. I'm not saying there needed to be Taxi Zum Klo-calibre sex going on, but come on, you gotta at least lay a realistic foundation! Homosexual relationships between men were common and not hidden during the period this film occupied, why shy away from it? Stone is no stranger to controversy, so this sterile, dolphin-friendly sort of brotherly love really seemed like a cop-out. Maybe the director's cut was better about this, I don't know.

2. Just as I will only see Juliette Lewis as Mallory Knox for the rest of her life, I only see Angelina Jolie as Olympias. This role was perfect; it just fit her. And this is by far the hottest she's ever looked in anything.

3. Speaking of hot . . . check this out (right). DAMN.

4. There were some really impressive shots. The charging battle lines on horseback? The aerial shots of the eagle flying between the two sides? Elephants charging? The world turns red once Alexander is wounded? Excellent, really excellent. When they come into Babylon it was almost as if they were stepping into Willy Wonka's factory, with all the color and spectacle. That was fun.
. . . is there an online moratorium on any images of the red shots during the final battle scene or something? This was a major part of the film and there is not one image to be found, COME ON! Now I'm pissed.

This is the perfect film to watch upon the birth of a new baby, stuck on the couch in silence for about three hours. Or laid up with some sort of injury. Other than that, it will probably feel like an extremely long amount of time to devote to something when there are things like Spartacus or Chicago Code to be watched. . .

5. For further pontification on the films of Oliver Stone, visit My Friend Donald's Blog

Happy V-Day.

This is the kind of thing I like. And for my money, there is not anything cooler in the world than Slash stepping up onto that grand. (swoon).

Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Sliver.

Forgive me, but we've had quite an unpleasant few days around here. And the logo is just in case anyone wanted warning (about explicit content), so there you go.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith, 2005, directed by Doug Liman.
Written by Simon Kinberg.
starring: Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt.

"A bored married couple is surprised to learn that they are both assassins hired by competing agencies to kill each other." (IMDB).

I liked this the first time I saw it and thought it was clever and funny. Yesterday, I was ready to give it a second go, made it to the part where John Smith (Pitt) does his fist-pump/kick as he gets out of his dune buggy (as Poison's Nothin' but a Good Time finishes)--which was the only part I truly enjoyed, until then, and then my 1.5 year old son decided that he was just going to omit his afternoon nap and all hell broke loose. I spent the remainder of the afternoon driving at a snail's pace around Harriet, Calhoun, and Isles trying to squeeze any number of minutes sleep out him. Which was a  FAIL.

I never finished the film and will probably now forever have negative feelings toward it because of the surrounding frustration. I like Doug Liman, by the way.

Sliver, 1993, directed by Phillip Noyce. Written by Ira Levin (novel), and Joe Eszterhas (screenplay).
starring: Sharon Stone, William Baldwin, Tom Berenger.

"Sliver Heights has everything a girl could want. Panoramic views of the city, a fully functional gym and a voyeuristic landlord with a minor oedipal complex and psychotic tendencies..." (IMDB).

I was still in a terrible mood when I opened this up hours later; after watching it I arrived at the decision that this was without a doubt the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen. I saw this during my junior year of high school and thought it was *awesome.* Shows just how clueless I used to be. Nearly 100% of Sharon Stone's deliveries were worse than community theater: "The psychology of the lens!" "Caffeine withdrawl! That'd do it to me!" "Do I look like a . . . girl who would be . . . frightened of you?" It's pissing me off right now just thinking about it.

The only reason to watch this is for the intercourse, which like everything else in the film is weirdly creepy and awkward. Netflix sent the unrated edition (OOOH!) and the only thing added to the original is an extra scene in bed (shot from above) that was basically William Baldwin's ass, thrusting, while Sharon Stone does her best to look uncomfortable and as if she's trying to escape, and then during the infamous "pillar scene," (see left) they show it full length instead of from above the waist, which makes it all the more ridiculous because the only things that are moving are their torsos. STUPID. I'd still hit that, though.

Another one of my favorite moments of ridiculousness came at the end, as Zeke (Baldwin) tells Carly (Stone) to "open this cock-sucking door, now!"

Seriously.