Music makes the scene

I came away from Watchmen with 2 things:

1. I want to dress up as Silk Spectre I for Halloween.
2. The music supervisor referred to a list of "10 Overused Movie Tunes" instead of actually, I don't know, finding interesting and/or appropriate songs to use.

Those thoughts - expanded - and more to come.

Do NOT pass go

Monopoly is being turned into a Riddley Scott Movie [EW.com]

Monopoly the movie? Been there, done that, won me a spot in the Film Production I end-of-the-year showcase in '05. I want royalties, Ridley Scott!

Reservoir Bombers

So I saw this picture from this afternoon's Yankees beatdown of the Royals...

...and immediately thought of this shot, which I couldn't find exactly and had to screencap

Let's see: 

Jason Giambi is obviously Mr. Pink, the wisecracking loudmouth making inappropriate pop culture jokes and always good for a quote. Derek Jeter is Mr. White, the leader, the wise veteran. Bobby Abreu is Mr. Yellow, a brutal RBI assassin. And A-Rod? He's Mr. Orange. The guy everyone wants to like but, as it turns out, is playing for the other side. Cue "Little Green Bag" and imagine the Reservoir Dogs credits rolling...

Movies you should not pay for

You may think that Will Arnett can't sink any lower than Let's Go to Prison. You'd be wrong. Exhibit A: The Brothers Solomon. Thank goodness he parlayed the excellence that was G.O.B. Bluth into a primo reoccurring guest spot on current greatest comedy on TV 30 Rock...

Ladies love Bats too!

One of the best parts of Friday afternoons has always been reading a just-arrived Entertainment Weekly. This week's issue featured a cover story on The Dark Knight, fairly unremarkable until I got to this passage:

Despite all of the records being shattered, perhaps the biggest revelation about The Dark Knight's opening weekend was who was sitting in the audience... A reported 48 percent of The Dark Knight's audience was female, and that number probably would have been even higher had so many women not flocked to Mamma Mia!

Whether they were drawn by the rubberneck curiosity surrounding Ledger's last fully realized performance or simply felt that this comic-book movie had something to say to them, too, The Dark Knight's audience represents a huge demographic shift for studio marketers to wrap their heads around.

As a female moviegoer who had The Dark Knight's release date marked on her calendar for some time (although considering the fact that it coincided with my birthday, it was pretty hard to forget), I'm kind of offended, not to mention confused, by these comments. 

To review: people out there think that a movie starring Christian Bale, sex object since the days of Newsies* (oh come on, he was 18 then!), Aaron Eckhart, who emerged as a smart woman's sex symbol in Thank You For Smoking, and Heath Ledger, who stole every teen girl's heart in 10 Things I Hate About You, isn't going to attract female viewers?

And this is Batman we're talking about here. He's not some obscure superhero from the 70s resurrected from the DC Comics vaults in the hopes of squeezing out a few more dollars from the comic book cash cow. He's a part of American culture and mythology.

The writer of this article - a dude, of course - surmises that women either went to see the movie because of all the hype surrounding Heath Ledger's death or because they thought it might "[have] something to say to them too." I'm not exactly sure what that latter reason means, but why can't a girl go see this movie because she, too, wants to go see a big ol' summer blockbuster? Are blockbusters not so because EVERYONE goes to see them? Last time I checked, women were included in "everyone." And it's not like this was a shitty summer blockbuster like Armageddon or Transformers. There's Oscar buzz for this movie and quality films appeal to people regardless of gender. No debate necessary.

Maybe my point of view is so hopelessly skewed when it comes to film that I'm talking out of my ass here, arguing for naut. But I don't think that's the case. Come on, Hollywood. Women love movies just as much as men. Stop acting shocked when we show up to see them.

*I admit I have an ironic appreciation for Newsies whereas everyone else my age seems to embrace it sincerely. But it's an appreciation nonetheless, right?

Time to build a bomb shelter...

This just in from the signs of the apocalypse department:

1. MTV is remaking The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

This is so bizarre that I really don't know how to respond. Except with concern that the powers that be at the channel that ruined music might cast Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson as Brad and Janet. I shudder at the thought.

Although, I confess, I'd kind of like to see Jack Black play Eddie.

2. A Boston Globe columnist advocates the abolition of the "Yankees Suck" chant.

But I am a Red Sox fan, have been all my life, and so that means I don't like the Yankees. My two sons don't like the Yankees either. But here's the critical difference: I respect the Yankees, and I've taught my sons to do so, too. They are 14 and 11, love baseball, and know that Derek Jeter plays the game as well and as hard as anyone has. If I were picking sides in the schoolyard, Jeter is the guy I'd pick first.

Whoa. Logic and civility coming out of Boston. That did not happen in the 4 years I spent there...

Birthday Weekend = Epic Win

To review:

The Yankees sweep the A's (while the Red Sox get swept by the Angels) and I'm in attendance Friday night (that would be my birthday) to see the Moose pick up career victory number 262, a warm but enjoyable Saturday night on Broadway, and Sunday afternoon at the movies for the mind-blowing experience that is The Dark Knight.

Awesome. 

Extra bonus awesome: Picking up the Hold Steady's new album. If you're a Bruce fan, you owe it to yourself to check out these guys.

Doing My Patriotic Duty

3 ways I celebrated this overcast, occasionally rainy Independence Day:

1. Listened to Bruce Springsteen's "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)," the beautifully poetic ode to a girl (what else?) and a warm Jersey Shore summer holiday.
2. Watched Miracle, the Disney film about the 1980 US Olympic hockey team that made a lot of people proud to be Americans. The boys are "too pretty," as my dad noted while we watched it, but honestly, I can't find fault with that. USA all the way, indeed. Bonus BU alum pride included at no extra charge.
3. Watched some of the American pastime, baseball. Of course, that's really no different from my typical daily routine, but it seems fitting for the 4th. Unfortunately it was a Yankees loss, but I'm going for a double dose and holding out hope for a Phillies victory over the Mets.

I highly recommend all three. Happy Independence Day, everyone!

This is what it sounds like when doves cry

I stayed up tonight to watch Purple Rain which, surprisingly, I had never seen. My main thought, at the end of the film, is why doesn't weird shit like this get made today? I can totally see Fall Out Boy in a Purple Rain/Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey hybrid where faux punk rock saves the world from aliens or something. In fact, I might start writing that right now...

There was a barber and his wife, and he was beautiful...

At this point in my life, there is no other way to describe a Tim Burton movie than as a momentous event in my life. This sounds overdramatic, but bear with me. Burton was my first "favorite" director, before I started getting pretentious and and into foreign films and other things of that nature, and Edward Scissorhands was the first DVD I ever bought. Burton remains one of my favorite directors, and, as I confessed to a friend the other day, I so want his films to be good, I actually get a bit nervous when I go to see them.

Such a line of thinking seems to set one up for disappointment, and yet, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street was anything but. You surely know the story of Sweeney Todd - falsely accused barber gets revenge by slitting the throats of those who have wronged him while the woman downstairs turns their bodies into filling for her meat pies - and if you didn't, you do now.

It seems like fodder for a z-grade horror movie, not a Broadway musical, and yet, it's been both. It is composer Stephen Sondheim's masterpiece, and although he is quite the imposing figure, Burton manages to put his own stamp on the film, allowing it to be both a Tim Burton film and a Stephen Sondheim film.

The gory, darkly humorous musical is almost too perfect for Burton, the only musical you could ever imagine him directing. Blood and gore, a gaunt, pale protagonist, a bleak story with touches of equally dark humor - all hallmarks of Burton's previous works, especially the ones with his favorite muse, Johnny Depp. Depp does a surprisingly excellent job with the notoriously complex score, and Helena Bonham Carter, although not quite as good as Depp, does an admirable job as well.

Visually, the film resembles Sleepy Hollow - de-saturated with vividly colored flashbacks emphasizing the contrast between then and now, and gushing geysers of red, red blood, which, frankly, look amazingly cool against the nearly black and white background. Reflections are everywhere in Sweeney Todd, from puddles on the dirty London streets to Sweeney's beloved razor to the shattered mirror in his shop - and notably, all of these reflections are in some way distorted. Whatever they are supposed to reflect - Sweeney's own perception of himself as a pariah, the morally ugly person he's become since being consumed by revenge - they are pretty awesome solely on a visual level. And while that's occasionally been the case with Tim Burton's films - visually stunning but a bit lacking in other areas - Sweeney Todd doesn't disappoint in any way.

A note: I realize the importance of timeliness and relevance - and a review of a film that is neither nominated for Best Picture or playing for more than one showing a week is neither timely nor relevant. But I loved the movie so much and really wanted to make sure that I did it justice with my review, and I took my time. So there.

I still love ya, Tim!

Man, what does Tim Burton have to do to get some Oscar love? This year was a particularly strong crop of directors but... nothing for Ed Wood, nothing for Big Fish, and now nothing for Sweeney Todd.

Boo.

Yippie-kay-yay, motherfucker!

I think it bears repeating that Bruce Willis in Die Hard is way more attractive than you remember. Seriously. Also, this might be one of the funniest things ever:

61 in 61

What is it about baseball movies that always makes me emotional? I just finished watching 61* and even though I've seen it many times before, as Roger Maris hit homer number 61, I couldn't help but tear up. Of course, it's kind of ruined with the cut back to steroid man Mark McGwire breaking Maris's record, but still.

Well played, Billy Crystal. Your Yankees love has been put to good use.

After today's unsuccessful attempt to get Bruce Springsteen tickets, I decided to watch the concert DVD that came with the 30th anniversary edition of Born to Run. After all, watching the concert on a big screen TV with our surround sound setup probably gave me a better view (and less hearing damage) than I would have had with the tickets I kept pulling for Madison Square Garden this morning. But more on that in a later installment...

Anyway, that concert is amaaaaaazing. Vintage Bruce and an amazing performance of my all-time favorite Springsteen song "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)." Sigh. The tickets will be mine. Oh yes, they will be mine.

13>12

Of the many summer three-quels, Ocean's Thirteen is the best. Unlike Pirates and Spiderman, Ocean's Thirteen doesn't feel an hour too long or painfully self-indulgent or completely nonsensical. While the plot may not be much clearer than the air on a hot LA day, it makes enough sense to keep the audience engaged. Money needs to change hands (out of Wally Bank's and into Danny Ocean's) and casino games shall be rigged - the details don't matter. Especially not when Soderbergh (director and DP) photographs Vegas so wonderfully that you can't help but start planning a trip there as you watch Brad and George stroll along the Strip.

Al Pacino does some quality scenery chewing as this installment's villain, and Eddie Izzard gets more screen time (although not as much as he should) then in 12. All that being said:


Dear Steven, George, Brad, et. al.,

Thank you for making Ocean's Thirteen not suck. Granted, you didn't have to do much better to beat the lame excuse for a movie that was Party at George's Italian Villa Ocean's Twelve, but you realized that you fucked up and got back on your game. Kudos.

Love,
Christina

See You at the Grindhouse

Sometimes, you go to a movie and come out feeling enlightened, educated, like a better person for having seen it. Sometimes you admire the technical achievements of a film. And sometimes, you just come out thinking "Damn, that was fun."

Grindhouse is obviously the third option. It's been so long since I went to see a movie and marveled at how much fun I was having. I mean, Blades of Glory was funny when Will Arnett and Amy Poehler had center stage, Zodiac was gripping and thrilling, and Reno 911: Miami was entertaining but ultimately rather disappointing, to name a few recent movie escapades. But Grindhouse was just plain fun. Gross-out, jump-out-of-your-seat, grip-the-chair-arms-in-terror, laugh-your-ass-off-when-it's-done fun. It's clear that Tarantino and Rodriguez really love the genre to which they're paying homage.

I liked Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror for its sheer awe-inspiring intentional badness. The plot makes no sense (is there a plot?), the dialog is hokey and the movie is horribly underlit. But it's all in good fun, and when you're not cringing at the extreme gore, you're probably laughing at the absurdity of it. "It's a no-brainer," Josh Brolin says of a head that has... well, no brain. And even though it's quite possibly the most obvious pun on the planet, it's really fucking funny. Rodriguez only shoots on digital these days, and he used that to good effect, scratching up the "film" to an occasionally unwatchable degree, which just adds charm.

Death Proof, Tarantino's contribution to the film, could stand alone as an actual good film. Whereas Rodriguez's installment only really works as part of the Grindhouse gimmick, Death Proof is good - well-acted and genuinely suspenseful, with a great cast of characters. So what if Tarantino likes to have his characters sit around and talk? The banter is witty and engaging, and he writes interesting characters. The girls are sassy and feminine and assertive. Kurt Russell's "Stuntman Mike" is simultaneously seductive and scary, and then batshit crazy, in an awesome way, of course. And then when the car chases start... holy shit. The stuntwork and driving are mindblowing.

And then there were the faux-trailers. Would it surprise you to hear that Edgar Wright's was my favorite? Didn't think so. Plus, Will Arnett did the voice over for it. One of my favorite actors working with one of my favorite up-and-coming directors? I only hope they collaborate again in the future. The other trailers were good too, but I don't want to spoil too much of the amazingness.

Seeing Grindhouse at the movie theaters at The Grove - with their leather seats, stadium seating, and computerized snack bar ordering system - was probably antithetical to the whole grindhouse experience. Regardless, there's something about the shared moviegoing experience - the hushed whispers during the coming attractions, the smell of popcorn, the feeling of anticipation as the film begins - that makes me think that Grindhouse won't translate quite as well to DVD. The individual films, perhaps, especially Tarantino's. But Grindhouse as a whole is an experience that you've got to get off your ass and go to the theaters to see.