Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Heath Ledger's Last Movie

Heath Ledger's Friends Complete His Last Movieby Jonathan Crow · October 7, 2009

Heath Ledger was on a break from shooting the fantasy film "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" when he tragically died in January of 2008. It was the latest and saddest unexpected turn of events for the movie's director, Terry Gilliam, who has a legendary track record of seemingly cursed film productions. In 1984, Universal Pictures refused to release the his masterpiece "Brazil" until critics dubbed it the best movie of the year. His next movie "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen" was crippled by studio politics and a shiftless producer. More recently, the production of "The Man Who Killed Don Quixote" suffered one disaster after another until it was shut down after only a week of filming.
So when the star of his latest effort died after only about a third of the film was completed, "Imaginarium" looked like yet another casualty to Gilliam's freakishly bad luck. Yet he pulled it off, earning raves at this year's Cannes International Film Festival.
So how did he do it? If Gilliam made quiet domestic dramas, the movie would have been completely derailed. But as it happens, Gilliam makes films that are so hallucinatory and surreal that he can even change the actor playing the lead character and still make the story work. In this case, he enlisted Ledger's friends Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell to step into his role. The three A-listers not only jumped at the chance to make sure Ledger's final work made it to the screen, but they also donated their salaries to Ledger's young daughter, Matilda.
The movie tells the story of the titular Dr. Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), a thousand-year-old traveling showman who invites audience members to venture into an alternate reality through his magical mirror. He gained his unusual abilities and eternal life through a bet with the Devil (Tom Waits), and when the evil one tries to collect, a mysterious figure named Tony (Ledger and friends) comes to save the day.

The one bit of luck that Gilliam did have during the making of "Imaginarium" was that he shot all of the "real world" scenes before Ledger died. So when the character of Tony steps through the magic mirror into a fantasy world he is transformed, allowing Depp, Law and Farrell to take over the role.
It's a bold and risky way to salvage the project. The question with "Imaginarium" becomes, will these shifts between Ledger and the other actors will feel natural or they will feel forced? According to Gilliam, the transition happens so smoothly that a sound mixer who worked on the movie assumed it was always intended to be that way.
Gilliam has clearly taken out all the stops, making "Imaginarium" as visually wondrous and bizarre as anything he's put on the screen since "Baron Munchausen." To get a look at the movie's startling images, and to see how Heath Ledger's pals look in his role, watch the exclusive trailer below. "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" opens on Christmas Day.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

#2.
Lie About Who The Star Is

So you're a studio exec, and you just greenlit a $70 million movie called Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow to be shot entirely in front of green screens. You're planning on using CGI to fill those screens with giant robots trundling around 1930s New York. Unfortunately, your focus group results just arrived, and the majority of the audience tells you all they really wanted to see was a sexy hamburger.


Where's the fucking beef people?

As you're preparing to clean out your desk, you notice that one of the focus group members mentioned Angelina Jolie for some reason. After re-watching the film, making sure not to blink the second time, you confirm that Jolie does in fact make a brief cameo. But since she's the most bankable star in Hollywood, you release a trailer that uses that cameo like Native Americans used a buffalo carcass.

She isn't kidding when she tells Gwyneth, "It's a pleasure to finally meet the competition," as they meet an hour and two minutes into the movie, resulting in Angelina getting slightly more screen time than Sir Lawrence Olivier, who was cast as the villain using stock footage recorded before he died.


Can we imply that Angelina has sex with the dead guy?

Using a star's brief cameo as bait in a cinematic bear trap is nothing new. The trailer for Star Trek: Generations seemed to promise Kirk and Picard standing shoulder to shoulder saving the universe, like a galactic 48 Hours if Eddie Murphy was also old and white. Of course, in the actual film they unceremoniously drop a bridge on Kirk so fast he might as well be wearing a red shirt.

But devotees of the Star Trek and Angelina Jolie's remarkable boobs have nothing on the apparently sizable, and oft-mislead talking-animal fanbase. The trailer for the 2002 movie, Snow Dogs, featured Cuba Gooding Jr. playing second fiddle to a team of wise cracking sled dogs to the strains of "Who Let the Dogs Out." Look Who's Talking fans marked their calendars, while the rest of us wondered just how the fuck Cuba Gooding, Jr. had gone from Best Supporting Actor to comedic foil for a team of jive talking huskies.

Well, he didn't. The scene with the talking dogs is actually from a brief dream sequence. The film is a zany comedy, sure, but it's a zany comedy about Gooding's emotional quest to find out who his real parents are. As mortified as Gooding must have been when he saw the trailers had hidden him behind CGI animals, imagine how depressed he was when the dogs opened at #1 in the box office. Actually, that makes us a little depressed too.

That, by the way, reminds us of the single most annoying thing trailers do...

#1.
Just Completely Lie About What Kind of Movie It Is

As should be clear by now, Hollywood hates new things. They might reluctantly let a successful enough filmmaker take on a movie that's a little different than the ones he's made in the past. Just don't expect the trailer to tell you that.


Just your typical Spielberg awesomeness, folks.

When E.T. was released, the trailer used a creepy POV shot to make it look like Jaws and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, the hit supernatural thrillers that Steven Spielberg was known for churning out up to that point.


Marketing magic.

Of course, E.T. went on to become bigger than all of his previous films, so when Gremlins was released four years later with Spielberg as the Executive Producer, the campy horror film was made to look like a tale of a little boy and his furry alien friend.

It works the same way for stars. Giving Robin Williams some coke and setting him loose in a light-hearted family comedy used to be one of the few ways a studio could ensure their movie would shit solid gold at the box office. However, Williams's desire to play dramatic roles has led to an incredible resume of lighthearted trailers for depressing films:

But what if nobody in your movie has ever made anything good before? What sort of movie are you supposed to pretend you've made then? In 2004, Jerry Bruckheimer was pitching around an R-rated buddy comedy as Midnight Run in Australia, which would have been an apt description if the stars of Midnight Run were Kush from Jerry Maguire and that fat comedian nobody likes.


No, the black one.

Frantically searching for an unoriginal idea to steal, Bruckheimer found his answer in a Cuba Gooding, Jr. film that had tricked audiences into theaters with talking huskies. A dream sequence was added featuring a rapping CGI kangaroo wearing shades and performing "Rapper's Delight" with a sassy Australian accent. Then the ads for the movie featured basically nothing but that.

The film's name became Kangaroo Jack, a play on the slang term "to steal" that was clearly meant to trick audiences into thinking the Kangaroo was the star. Fans of talking animals, most of them under five-years-old, were duped once again. But where Snow Dogs had tricked them into seeing a light-hearted family comedy, Bruckheimer had tricked them into seeing a raunchy, boob and gay joke-centric action movie.


The results? Kangaroo Jack took the #1 spot at the box office its opening weekend, Jerry Bruckheimer's balls got a little closer to bursting forth from his scrotum and everyone in Hollywood once again learned that no matter how much the Internet bitches and moans about their evil trickery, that shit works.

5 Things Movie Trailers Need to Stop Doing

5 Things Movie Trailers Need to Stop Doing

By Conrad Schickedanz, Jack O'Brien July 29, 2009 457,037 views
article image

At a movie studio, once the pesky task of actually making a movie is out of the way the guys in the suits go to work. Their job is to bend and manipulate the movie footage into a short trailer that will tell you exactly what they think you want to hear. And it should be noted at the outset, they think you're retarded.

Here are five things we'd ask them to kindly stop doing, and why we know they never will.

#5.
Show Scenes That Are Not In The Movie

Superbad's 30 second trailer promised that "Every generation has one iconic movie that is... quoted non-stop... Superbad is that film." That's high praise for movie producers; while we might mutter "douchebag" when a grown man emerges from a public restroom, fans his crotch and says, "Do not go in there!" in his best Jim Carrey inflection, the marketing community considers that shit free advertising.


What makes less sense is why, in a movie that's chock full of quotable nuggets, they chose "McLovin, sounds like a sexy hamburger!" to be the one line that turned up in the trailer that bragged about quotability. You know, since that line was so memorable that the filmmakers left it out of the movie altogether.

It didn't matter that the line was in no way quotable since it was a response to a name that doesn't exist anywhere outside of the movie, nor did it matter that both Jonah Hill and Michael Cera had funnier TV-friendly lines that were actually in the film. The studio wanted a line by Seth Rogen since he was in the previous summer's "once in a generation" quotable movie, Knocked Up. So the suits rifled through the footage left on the cutting room floor until they found a Seth Rogen line that didn't contain the word fuck, and we got a preview that did a great job hiding the fact that Superbad was actually pretty funny.


"This is a line in a movie!"

But what happens when marketing folks don't have an over abundance of good material to discard in favor of a deleted scene? The trailer for Black Christmas got around that problem by featuring a few moments that were shot just for the trailer. And by a few moments, we mean just about everything you see in the trailer was shot just for the trailer.

According to the IMDB page, the list includes:

An unknown caller saying, "All is calm, all is bright, who is in my house tonight?"

A woman rubbing the snow off her car and a hand reaching through it.

A woman falling off the roof tangled in Christmas lights.


A woman being dragged through the snow by a Christmas lights machine.

Melissa in the hallway with a flashlight while Billy is on the ceiling ready to strike with an axe.

For all of the actual film footage the trailer shows us, Black Christmas very well could be a remake of A Miracle on 34th Street starring Danny Glover and Webster.

#4.
Use The Same Damn Songs Over And Over Again

Soon after it was released in 1989, Ton Loc's "Wild Thing" was put to use in the trailer for Uncle Buck, which actually made sense because the movie was about a wild man played by John Candy, and also because it was still 1989.

Since that time, Mr. Loc's anthem has been used in trailers for every fish out of water comedy that has been released in the last 19 years, including Undercover Brother, Garfield: The Movie, Bedazzled and the Rob Schneider vehicle, The Animal.

So why continue to use a song that had quickly become shorthand for "No matter how low your expectations, get ready to lower them!" Well, Hollywood thinks you need to be told exactly what sort of movie you're going to be getting. When you need to communicate that the main character is a live wire, why use cliched dialogue when you can use a cliched Ton Loc song instead?


The voice of several generations, apparently.

If the comedy has a big enough budget, they might even go with the nuclear option: Smash Mouth. Hollywood loves the shit out of some Smash Mouth; presumably because their songs are genetically engineered to get stuck in your head like some sort of incurable mind-AIDS. Also, they all sound the same, so instead of using that "All-Star" song like Shrek (and Mystery Men, Inspector Gadget, Shrek 2 and Shrek 3), you can get the exact same effect by using one of their many other identical-sounding songs; like in Made of Honor, Can't Hardly Wait, the two shittier Dr. Suess Movies and the shittiest Austin Powers.

In fact, every comedy genre has a preset approved-for-trailer list that runs about two songs deep. Romantic comedies get The Cranberries "Dreams" or the Spencer Davis Group's "Gimme Some Lovin.'" Feel good comedies almost always use "Walking on Sunshine" or the most overused song in movie trailer history.

Yes, the only way to communicate that your film is the "feel good comedy of the summer" is to play James Brown's "I Feel Good." Apparently, Hollywood believes that you not only need to be trained like a Pavlovian dog to know what kind of movie to expect, you need the lyrics to literally tell you how to feel.

#3.
Just Go Ahead And Ruin The Entire Goddamn Movie

When they're not lying to audiences, trailers are telling them too much. Hollywood has been known to treat films with a unique plot, or a surprising twist ending with all the delicacy of Lenny in Of Mice and Men.


"I see dead people...wink."

Take, for instance, one of the first genuine twist endings in the history of Hollywood cinema. The studio knew they had a twist that would leave audiences head spinning if they could just get them to watch it. The whole trailer teases you with the mystery at the heart of the film's mind blowing ending, asking "What is the secret of Soylent Green?"

You'd just have to watch the movie to find out. Or, you know, keep your eyes open for the part of the trailer where Charlton Heston breaks into the factory and sees all the bodies moving down the conveyor belt. If you caught that, then don't worry about showing up, you can probably put it together from there.

With time, this became common place. The trailer for Ransom was geared around a dramatic scene in which Mel Gibson's character announces that he is offering his own ransom as a bounty on the kidnapper's head, a plot twist that kills any suspense you might have felt during the first half of the movie. The trailer for Wild Things ruined the first half of that movie by giving away the fact that the sexual harassment suit against Matt Dillon is a hoax.


A sexy hoax.

And of course there's Cast Away's trailer that shows the plane crash that lands Tom Hanks on the island...

Tom Hanks battling the elements, and then Tom Hanks being rescued by his friends who tell him, "You've been gone for four years."

They actually end the trailer with the final shot of the film, but commendably show the restraint to cut things off before the credits start to roll.




continued below...


Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Karl Malden dead

FILE - In this Feb. 22, 2004 file photo, actor Karl Malden accepts the life AP – FILE - In this Feb. 22, 2004 file photo, actor Karl Malden accepts the life achievement award at the …

LOS ANGELES – Karl Malden, the Academy Award-winning actor whose intelligent characterizations on stage and screen made him a star despite his plain looks, died Wednesday, his family said. He was 97.

Malden died of natural causes surrounded by his family at his Brentwood home, they told the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences. He served as the academy's president from 1989-92.

While he tackled a variety of characters over the years, he was often seen in working-class garb or military uniform. His authenticity in grittier roles came naturally: He was the son of a Czech mother and a Serbian father, and worked for a time in the steel mills of Gary, Ind., after dropping out of college.

Malden said he got his celebrated bulbous nose when he broke it a couple of times playing basketball or football, joking that he was "the only actor in Hollywood whose nose qualifies him for handicapped parking."

Malden won a supporting actor Oscar in 1951 for his role as Blanche DuBois' naive suitor Mitch in "A Streetcar Named Desire" — a role he also played on Broadway.

He was nominated again as best supporting actor in 1954 for his performance as Father Corrigan, a fearless, friend-of-the-workingman priest in "On the Waterfront." In both movies, he costarred with Marlon Brando.

Among Malden's more than 50 film credits were: "Patton," in which he played Gen. Omar Bradley, "Pollyanna," "Fear Strikes Out," "The Sting II," "Bombers B-52," "Cheyenne Autumn," and "All Fall Down."

One of his most controversial films was "Baby Doll" in 1956, in which he played a dullard husband whose child bride is exploited by a businessman. It was condemned by the Catholic Legion of Decency for what was termed its "carnal suggestiveness." The story was by "Streetcar" author Tennessee Williams.

Malden gained perhaps his greatest fame as Lt. Mike Stone in the 1970s television show "The Streets of San Francisco," in which Michael Douglas played the veteran detective's junior partner.

During the same period, Malden gained a lucrative 21-year sideline and a place in pop culture with his "Don't leave home without them" ads for American Express.

"The Streets of San Francisco" earned him five Emmy nominations. He won one for his role as a murder victim's father out to bring his former son-in-law to justice in the 1985 miniseries "Fatal Vision."

Malden played Barbra Streisand's stepfather in the 1987 film "Nuts;" Adm. Elmo Zumwalt Jr. in the 1988 TV film "My Father, My Son;" and Leon Klinghoffer, the cruise ship passenger murdered by terrorists in 1985, in the 1989 TV film "The Hijacking of the Achille Lauro."

He acted sparingly in recent years, appearing in 2000 in a small role on TV's "The West Wing."

In 2004, Malden received the Screen Actors Guild's Lifetime Achievement Award, telling the group in his acceptance speech that "this is the peak for me."

Malden first gained prominence on Broadway in the late 1930s, making his debut in "Golden Boy" by Clifford Odets. It was during this time that he met Elia Kazan, who later was to direct him in "Streetcar" and "Waterfront."

He steadily gained more prominent roles, with time out for service in the Army in World War II (and a role in an Army show, "Winged Victory.")

"A Streetcar Named Desire" opened on Broadway in 1947 and went on to win the Pulitzer Prize and New York Drama Critics Circle awards. Brando's breakthrough performance might have gotten most of the attention, but Malden did not want for praise. Once critic called him "one of the ablest young actors extant."

Among his other stage appearances were "Key Largo," "Winged Victory," Arthur Miller's "All My Sons," "The Desperate Hours," and "The Egghead."

Malden was known for his meticulous preparation, studying a script carefully long before he stepped into his role.

"I not only figure out my own interpretation of the role, but try to guess other approaches that the director might like. I prepare them, too," he said in a 1962 Associated Press interview. "That way, I can switch in the middle of a scene with no sweat."

"There's no such thing as an easy job, not if you do it right," he added.

He was born Mladen Sekulovich in Chicago on March 22, 1912. Malden regretted that in order to become an actor he had to change his name. He insisted that Fred Gwynne's character in "On the Waterfront" be named Sekulovich to honor his heritage.

The family moved to Gary, Ind., when he was small. He quit his steel job 1934 to study acting at Chicago's Goodman Theatre "because I wasn't getting anywhere in the mills," he recalled.

"When I told my father, he said, `Are you crazy? You want to give up a good job in the middle of the Depression?' Thank god for my mother. She said to give it a try."

In 2005, the U.S. Postal Service honored Malden by putting his name on a post office in Los Angeles to honor his achievement in film and his contributions to the Citizens' Stamp Advisory Committee, which meets to discuss ideas for stamp designs.

Malden and his wife, Mona, a fellow acting student at the Goodman, had one of Hollywood's longest marriages, having celebrated their 70th anniversary in December.

Besides his wife, Malden is survived by daughters Mila and Cara, his sons-in-law, three granddaughters, and four great grandchildren.

___

Associated Press writer Polly Anderson in New York contributed to this report.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Farrah Fawcett Dead

Farrah Fawcett dead at 62 after long battle with anal cancer

by Vicki Hyman/The Star-Ledger
Thursday June 25, 2009, 12:45 PM

Farrah Fawcett and Ryan O'Neal at the 1989 premiere of 'Chances Are.' Fawcett died after a 3-year battle with anal cancer today.

Farrah Fawcett, the 1970s jiggle icon known equally for "Charlie's Angels," her feathered hair, that skimpy red swimsuit, and her stormy love life, died this morning after a long struggle with anal cancer, Entertainment Tonight reports. She was 62.

Longtime love Ryan O'Neal, who recently promised to marry Fawcett, and her friend Alana Stewart, who filmed a documentary about her cancer battle, were by her side when she died at 9:28 a.m. PST at a Los Angeles hospital. Her only child, Redmond O'Neal, is in jail on drug charges, but did receive permission for a final visit with his mother a few weeks ago.

The Star-Ledger's Alan Sepinwall looks back at Fawcett's career.

Fawcett in the front row at New York Fashion Week in 2004.

Fawcett was diagnosed with anal cancer in 2006, and though it went into remission, it reappeared last year. She wanted to keep her struggle private, but the National Enquirer published stories about her health, apparently gleaned from hospital employees who illegally pried in her records. Fawcett even cooperated with a sting operation to flush out the prying employees.

As of a few months ago, Fawcett still had hope that she would beat cancer. Her doctor said in April that Fawcett "remains in good spirits with her usual sense of humor. She's been in great shape her whole life and has an incredible resolve and an incredible resilience."

Not long after, O'Neal confirmed that Fawcett hadstopped treatment, was bed-ridden and has lost most of her famed locks.

Barbara Walters said on "Good Morning America" this morning that Fawcett had received last rites, and that she had been too weak to marry O'Neal, as he had promised. Fawcett and O'Neal dated through most of the 1980s and 1990s, then reunited after O'Neal's own cancer scare a few years ago. Fawcett was previously married to "Six Million Dollar Man" star Lee Majors in the 1970s.

Farrah Fawcett, right, Kate Jackson, left, and Jacyln Smith were the original 'Charlie's Angels.' Fawcett only spent a season on the show, but she's inextricably linked with it.
Jackson, Fawcett, and Smith were reunited at the 58th Annual Primetime Emmy Awards in August 2006.

Friday, June 5, 2009

How Many Balloons to fly a house?

How Many Balloons Would It Take To Lift a House?The physics of Pixar's Up.

Up. Click image to expand.In the new Pixar film Up, a crotchety old man named Carl ties thousands of balloons to his house and proceeds on an awesome flying adventure to South America. This left several Explainer readers wondering: Just how many balloons would it take to lift a house?

Between 100,000 and 23.5 million. The lower figure comes from the Wired Science blog, which took a crack at the calculation last week. After consulting with a house mover, Wired estimated that Carl's home in Up would be about 100,000 pounds. (Most houses weigh between 80,000 and 160,000 pounds.) Given that 1 cubic foot of helium can lift 0.067 pounds, it would take 1,492,537 cubic feet of helium to lift the house—or about as much as would be contained in 105,854 balloons, each 3 feet in diameter.

This figure doesn't account for the weight of the balloons themselves, however. A 3-foot latex balloon—which is bigger than your average party balloon but smaller than the ones used in the extreme sport of cluster ballooning—might weigh about 1 ounce. So 105,854 of them would add 6,615 pounds to the weight of the house. The weight of the strings also needs to be taken into account. (A Wired Science commenter estimates that "non-optimal rigging" would require about 1,800 pounds of rope.) The Wired piece noted that it would take more balloons to lift Carl's house above the cloud cover, but according to experienced cluster balloonists, that's not necessarily true. If the balloons are made out of an elastic material like latex and haven't been fully inflated beforehand, they'll expand as they rise into the thinner atmosphere, which should keep the house rising steadily.

If Carl were trying to use regular old party balloons to fly his house, he'd need a whole lot more. A typical party balloon—11 inches in diameter, with 26 inches of curling ribbon—can lift 4.8 grams, or about 0.17 ounces. Assuming these flimsier balloons could withstand the strain—and not counting the extra string that would be involved—it would take more than 9.4 million balloons to lift Carl's house.

Meanwhile, Up co-director Pete Docter recently told Ballooning magazine that technicians at Pixar estimated it would take 23.5 million party balloons to lift a 1,800-square-foot house like Carl's, though it's unclear exactly what size balloon they were using to make their calculations. (In the film, the animators used 20,622 balloons for the liftoff sequence, but most of the other floating scenes have just 10,297.)

These figures all assume that Carl's house is simply being lifted off the ground. In the movie, however, Carl's house rips free from its foundation, which would likely require a dramatic increase in the number of balloons needed. (Consider that in a storm situation, shifting a house clean off its foundation requires wind speeds of around 120 mph, which is what you'd find in a Category 3 hurricane.) Plus, if the cluster were big enough to have that much lifting force, the house wouldn't leisurely float away after being unmoored, as it does in the film—it would shoot off like a rocket. Another physicist has taken issue with the manner in which the balloons were deployed in the film, noting that Carl didn't seem to have factored in the need for an anchor to keep the house weighed down until he was ready to unleash his balloons.

Bonus Explainer: Is it legal to set off in a flying house? Not without the proper certification. Most cluster-balloon systems, which carry a solo flier in a harness or chair, are considered ultralight vehicles, like hang gliders or para-gliders. Under Federal Aircraft Regulations, the pilots of these vehicles must follow certain rules, such as flying only during daylight hours and staying out of particular airspaces. But Carl's house would clearly surpass the 155-pound cutoff for unpowered ultralight vehicles, which means he'd need to have his house certified as an airworthy experimental aircraft by the Federal Aviation Administration. Inspectors would probably use guidelines designed for "manned free balloons" to determine whether Carl's house was safe for American skies.

Got a question about today's news? Ask the Explainer.

Explainer thanks Rhett Allain of Southeastern Louisiana University, John Ninomiya of Clusterballoon.org, and Jonathan Trappe of ClusterBalloon.com.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Bruce Campbell on NPR

I somehow came across NPR and stopped to listen to a different news story. Suddenly, NPR started this interview and I was able to catch the whole thing. I'm glad I didn't change the channel. Bruce is the best!

Bruce Campbell, King Of The B Movie

Listen Now [17 min 19 sec] add to playlist | download

Bruce Campbell
Andrew Walker

Bruce Campbell last March in New York. Getty Images

Talk of the Nation, June 4, 2009 · As Sam Axe on cable channel USA's Burn Notice, Bruce Campbell plays the disreputable sidekick to the hero. In conversation with Neal Conan, he said he's enjoying being on a show "that has ratings."

You may also remember Campbell as the star of numerous B movies — think Man With the Screaming Brain. He's now directed and produced his own B movie, My Name is Bruce. He built the Western town featured in the film on his own property out of dead timber, and calls it "a very Little Rascals affair."

Of the film, which didn't hit most movie major theaters, he says "it wasn't released, it escaped."

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Is this a real movie!


... if so, Awesome!

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Ewan McGregor won't do "Porno"


McGregor won't do 'Porno'
5 commentsMay. 27, 2008 12:00 AM
BANG Showbiz
Ewan McGregor will not make a sequel to Trainspotting.

The Star Wars actor has ruled out ever starring in a follow-up to the 1996 film because he isn't a fan of Irvine Welsh's Porno, the sequel to Trainspotting.

Ewan, who played heroin addict Renton in the original movie, said: "There has always been talk of a sequel but I was disappointed with the book that Irvine wrote afterwards, Porno. It was like he wrote a sequel to the movie.
"I would hate to damage Trainspotting. It would be awful to damage the reputation of that film."

Despite his reluctance to reprise his role, the actor said starring in Trainspotting was a fantastic experience.

"It was mindblowing. I remember seeing it for the first time and thinking, 'Yeah, here we go!' It was extraordinary for lots of reasons, but I remember it being great because I was in my early 20s in the mid-90s when it came out."

Saturday, April 5, 2008

The New Cult Canon: Clerks

By Scott Tobias
April 3rd, 2008

Welcome to Cult On The Cheap month, where we celebrate the DIY outsiders who maxed out their credit cards, sold their plasma, participated in medical experiments, or did whatever else they could to scrape together the paltry sum needed to share their irrepressible vision with the world. Many of these Cinderella stories are a master class in resourceful and innovation, with first-time filmmakers stretching budgets so shoestring that they wouldn't cover craft services on other cheapo independent productions. In the absence of money, these scrappy little movies made the most of things that are free—making bold choices in the editing room, taking advantage of viewers' imaginations, and advancing big ideas over expensive special effects.

Kevin Smith's Clerks is not one of those movies.

Clerks may be the only $25,000 movie ever made that leaves people wondering where all that money went. There's the film stock, of course, but next week's NCC entry, Primer, was shot on 16mm a decade later for a third of the cost. Presumably, the surplus was spent on hookers and blow, because there isn't much to the film—a couple of locations, a small troupe of rank amateurs, no complicated setups, and a mise-en-scène that's only a hair more sophisticated than a day's worth of surveillance-camera footage. And it's not as if Smith's ideas were carrying the day, either: Aside from a thoroughly juvenile treatment of male sexual hang-ups, the film is just a crude assemblage of comic vignettes. Cut one away, and nothing's lost but a few minutes off the running time, which may or may not bother you, depending on how much you'd miss throwaway gags about an egg-obsessed guidance counselor or a virulent pro-gum lobbyist.

So why was Clerks such a sensation? Back in 1994—the first and last time I saw the film until this week—I had no idea. It was just after college, and I was in the perfect mindset to appreciate the film: Much like Dante Hicks, a reasonably intelligent guy mired in a dead-end job, I was logging time doing grunt work at a stone quarry outside Toledo, Ohio. (This is what that Bachelor's Degree in Literature will get you, kids: $8 per hour shoveling limestone sand from under the conveyor belts.) Whenever I had the chance, I'd drive an hour north to Ann Arbor to take in all the arthouse cinema I could (Hoop Dreams, Oleanna, Spanking The Monkey, et al.), and I remember heading up there on a weeknight to see Clerks, knowing full well that I'd pay for it in the morning. The film had come out of Sundance with tremendous momentum, and earned even greater cachet by winning its David vs. Goliath battle with the MPAA, which originally slapped it with an NC-17 for foul language alone. Reviews were good, the theater was packed, and…

I don't think I laughed more than a couple of times. And for the past 14 years, all I could remember about the film was the pick-up hockey game on the roof and the big punchline about Dante's ex-girlfriend's encounter in the bathroom. In the years that have followed, the cult of Kevin Smith has waxed and waned but mostly endured, spinning off into comic books, diaries, and concert appearances, several well-trafficked websites (and many other fan sites), and other assorted merchandise and pop-cultural flotsam. His "View Askewniverse" builds on a mythology not unlike that of the Star Wars movies, only much, much punier—akin to George Lucas basing two sequels and three prequels around the goofy creatures in the Mos Eisley Cantina. Yet for all his lingering deficiencies as a filmmaker, Smith has been expert at finding a cult audience and nurturing it like a delicate flower, one strong enough to weather the cold winter frost of Jersey Girl.

So again, why was Clerks such a sensation? Kevin Smith, obviously. There have been plenty of inspiring DIY success stories in independent film past and present, but Smith remains a special case. He's a true outsider: a Jersey boy who's down-to-earth and fundamentally unpretentious; who likes Star Wars, comic books, and dirty jokes; and who could never be mistaken for a Hollywood phony. Throughout the years, he's been remarkably accessible to friends and foes alike, unchecked by the usual phalanx of agents and publicists who keep artistes away from the common man; say something about Kevin Smith, and damned if the man himself doesn't turn up, Rumpelstiltskin-like, on the message boards to mix it up. Even this non-fan finds him likeable, and trusts that his "one of us" persona isn't a pose.

It isn't as catchy as "May the Force be with you," but there's a line in Clerks that defines Smith's philosophy in a nutshell: "Title does not dictate behavior." As spoken by Randal (Jeff Anderson), the more unruly of two clerks running adjacent convenience and video stores, the line is meant to inspire his mild-mannered cohort Dante (Brian O'Halloran) to break the rules a little. Clerks are supposed to be subservient to the customer, but Randal isn't one to believe that the customer is always right; just because the customers aren't logging time behind the counter at a video store doesn't mean they're superior to the hump who is. And if, say, a mother annoys Randal by asking him about some kid's video for her daughter, he isn't shy about ordering Ass-Worshiping Rim-jobbers in front of them. Dante, on the other hand, is so used to absorbing the petty abuses of his customers that he's come to believe that being a clerk is his sorry lot in life.

"Title does not dictate behavior" also helps explain the Clerks phenomenon, which now seems as revolutionary in its own way as Reservoir Dogs did two years before. Once the province of earnest, buttoned-down indies and imports, the arthouse seemed too hoity-toity a place for movies this rude and ill-behaved. But Clerks, with an assist from the Weinsteins, muscled its way into theaters anyway, creating an audience that hadn't existed previously, and challenging people's expectations of what an art film could be. The odd thing about Smith is that unlike Quentin Tarantino—who legitimized genre pictures for arthouse consumption—he's really just opened the door for himself. It's possible that mainstream American comedies have gotten cruder in the Smith era, but it's hard to think of a single Clerks-inspired independent film that has made it past the straight-to-DVD market.

Plot-wise, there isn't much of consequence to Clerks. It takes place over a day in the life of Dante and Randal, and the only story arc concerns Dante's screwed-up relationships. He's currently seeing Veronica (Marilyn Ghigliotti), a ball-buster who castigates him about not doing more with his life, but is devoted enough to bring him lasagna and make him one of only three men she's bedded. (Unless he cares to count the 36 others she's blown, including "Snowball," the bearded goofball who likes to taste his own ejaculate after a BJ.) But Dante can't stop thinking about Caitlin (Lisa Spoonhauer), an ex-girlfriend who appears poised to marry an Asian design major. Will Dante keep chasing Caitlin, whom he's idealized out of proportion to the real thing, or settle for Veronica, who ignites his Madonna-whore complex?

The sexual politics in Clerks are dubious, to put it mildly. It's true that men often have a hard time dealing with their girlfriends' sexual history—a subject that Smith tackled more thoroughly with Chasing Amy, if not necessarily with more maturity. (Noah Baumbach's underrated Mr. Jealousy, made the same year as Amy, did the job with a deftness and wit that seems beyond Smith's capabilities.) But the women in Clerks are broadly sketched, in part because the film spends so much time spinning its wheels with Dante and Randal (and Jay and Silent Bob, for that matter) that it doesn't have time for them. Dante's choice is between The Whore Who Brings Him Lasagna or The Whore Who Fucks The Dead Guy In The Bathroom. To me, the latter is a prime example of sacrificing too much for a joke; rather than find a more subtle way for Dante to deal with his romantic past and present, Smith makes the choice easy by turning his ex-girlfriend into an unwitting necrophiliac.

As a portrait of male friendship, Clerks isn't much better. The dynamic between Dante and Randal isn't that far off from buddies like Dane Cook and Dan Fogler in Good Luck Chuck: The hero is a base, sex-addled doofus, but compared to his Neanderthal best buddy, he's the sensitive guy who deserves our affection. O'Halloran and Anderson aren't skilled enough as actors to serve as more than mouthpieces for Smith's lowbrow gags and bits of philosophy, and they often choke on his reams of dialogue. (Smith has always been praised for his tart screenplays, but to me, he's a writer much too in love with his own voice; his films are littered with scenes that are allowed to drag on several beats longer than they should.) That said, even Anderson can't trample over this fine monologue about the destruction of the Death Star in Return Of The Jedi:

As Star Wars theory goes, that speech is second only to Patton Oswalt's recent riff on the prequels ("At Midnight I Will Kill George Lucas With A Shovel"). It also establishes Smith as a champion of blue-collar types like the poor roofers, aluminum-siders, and other wage slaves who paid the price for their boss' tyranny. A second viewing didn't bring me around to liking Clerks, but Smith's scrappy, workaday roots provide the film's best touches: filling up the newspaper rack with Asbury Park Press papers stolen from the box; the shoe-polish sign assuring customers that the store is open in spite of the gummed-up shutters; the litter box set on the countertop; the pile of change for coffee-and-paper buyers to serve themselves; and the fact that guys like Dante will do anything to keep people from disrupting the numb, dead-eyed inertia that propels him from one day to the next. It's when the movie starts running off at the mouth that things go awry.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Eddie Murphy's Funnies Movie...20 Years ago

Bark like a dog! 'Coming to America' turns 20

Coming_to_america_2 Anyone wondering why Eddie Murphy's "Coming to America" has been playing non-stop on cable movie channels lately? It's celebrating its 20th anniversary this year!

I'm going out on a limb here by saying this: "Coming to America" might be Eddie Murphy's best film ... period. Sure, you want rationale -- in list form, of course.

10 REASONS WHY 'COMING TO AMERICA' IS EDDIE'S BEST FLICK:

10. HELLO AGAIN AND GOODNIGHT: After two slightly subpar showings (Golden Child, Beverly Hills Cop 2), this movie is almost Eddie's swan song. So far, Eddie's only watchable flick after "Coming to America" is "Boomerang" (1992). It's also the last great flick by director John Landis.

Eddie_saul 9. MULTIPLE PERSONALITIES: This would be the first time Eddie played more than character, tackling Prince Akeem, Clarence the barber, Saul (the old white guy in the barber shop) and Randy Watson, the singer of the band Sexual Chocolate.

8. A NOD TO HIS HERO: Richard Pryor was a big influence on a young Eddie Murphy. So when it came time to pick a name for his fictional African country, Eddie chose "Zamunda" -- a name Pryor used in an old comedy bit.

7. BEST FAKE PRODUCT EVER: "Just let your Soul-Glo!" I dare say just about anyone who ever saw this movie can still sing along to the TV commercial. "Feeling all so silky smooth!" [Watch it again]

6. THEY CAN BE FUNNY TOO: Still not convinced? What about James Earl Jones playing a comedy role? Or future "E.R." moper Eriq La Salle as the "Soul Glo" heir? Brilliant. And you gotta love the cameo performances by Samuel L. Jackson and Louie Anderson. (And the kid getting his hair cut in the barber shop -- Cuba Gooding Jr.)

Arsenio 5. ARSENIO CAN ACT: Even Arsenio Hall, the Bud Abbott of the '80s, shows some rare acting skills here. Whatever happened to him?

4. THE FORCE IS STRONG WITH HIM: Star Wars freaks out there, did you catch James Earl Jones' "Darth Vader" homage? When King Jaffe Joffer comes looking for Akeem, he tells Mr. McDowell, "Do not alert him to my presence. I'll deal with him myself."

3. THE SEQUEL FACTOR: Our fond memory of two other great Murphy flicks -- "48 Hours" and "Beverly Hills Cop" -- is tainted by the criminally awful sequels they spawned. Thankfully, at the end of "Coming To America," everyone lives happily ever after -- sequel-free.

Trading_places 2. "WE'RE BACK!" One of the funniest scenes: The "Duke Brothers" -- Randy and Mortimer -- from 1983's "Trading Places" are bums on the street until former co-star Murphy hands them a bag of money.

1. THE GREAT LINES OF COURSE: "There is a very fine line between love and nausea" ... "Bark like a dog -- a big dog!" ... "My buns have no seeds" ... "The royal penis is clean, your Highness."