So, I'm sitting in the movies today, watching the coming attractions when I see the cutest friggin' thing I've ever seen in my life. Seriously. As in, "I squeaked so loud people were probably wondering just how old I was" cute.
Wall*E, Pixar's newest creation, is going to be solid GOLD. I guarantee it.
I really do want one.
I love a good satire, don't you? Especially when it comes in the form of a show so smart, so witty, and so reminiscent of the old school Hanna-Barbara shows.
From the genius minds of Cartoon Network's Adult Swim comes The Venture Bros., an animated series about Doctor Venture, a failed scientist fumbling in the footsteps of his genius father, Venture's two idiot sons, Dean and Hank, and their bodyguard, a blood-thirsty government agent named Brock Sampson.
This show is GOLD.
It's always the same formula: good guys + bad guy + conflict = showdown = GOOD GUYS WIN = Cheesy ending dialog + Laughter
Christ, it's like doing FOIL in Algebra.
The Venture Bros. takes this formula and turns it upside down, bringing with it villains that have real problems, razor wit and snark, and a dysfunctional family just trying to get along. The formula is an updated one, packed with plenty of laughs (real ones) and hysterically tragic characters that you can't help but love -- even the villains.
When you're not cracking up over Brock Sampson (voiced by Patrick Warburton)'s complete disregard for human life, or the poor, under-appreciated H.E.L.P.eR robot, or sympathizing with the Monarch's henchmen (who have personalities and bits of back story), you're pitying/laughing with the Venture Brothers and their fumbling attempts to be heroes and please their father, whom is never happy.
The show's animation is fantastic, a hip update of the old ways, and is aided by the old school jazz score (but with a 21st century twist).
The Venture Bros. is a triumph, and I can't wait for Season 3 to come out. Seasons 1 and 2 are available for purchase and I highly recommend them to anyone in need of some quality entertainment.
Now that finals are over, I have an entire month to post as much as I goddamn well please! Aren't you all glad? I thought so.
This weekend will hold much for me in the way of cinema. There's Sweeney Todd, Tim Burton's adaptation of the play to the big-screen, which is bringing in some fantastic praise from critics (who I don't tend to listen to as much anymore ever since they kinda panned The 5th Element, so fuck 'em), Juno, with my girl Ellen Page, National Treasure 2, which I want to see only because I saw and enjoyed the first one, and maybe Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story.
And despite Gerard Butler being in it, forget P.S., I Love You. There's just something about Hilary Swank that makes me want to take a page out of Eddie Izzard's book and go put babies on spikes.
However, as excited as I am for this sudden burst of cinematic goodness, these movies aren't what's getting everyone all up in arms. How sad is it when some 16-year old crazie goes and gets herself preggo by some kid who looks like he's lived in California all his life, rocking the ganj?
Yes, I'm of course talking about Miss Britney 2.0 Jamie Lynn Spears.
What is with the Spears family? Do they have a genetic predisposition toward the Stupid gene? I don't get why another girl with everything she could ever want -- a highly-rated show, a big fan following, and a bright future -- would just throw it all away for some unsafe sex. At 16.
As my friend Ken says, it boggles the fucking mind.
I really hope Jamie Lynn wakes up one morning, takes a look at her swollen belly, and realizes that she may have ruined the lives of hundreds of young girls who look up to her. The interview she gave to OK! Magazine gives off the impression that it's okay to get pregnant so young, as long as you're up front about it to your parents and the father of the child. Um, wrong message to send to impressionable, young girls. Every time I see a picture of her with a big grin, I want to shake her and ask her if it's sunk in yet just what lies ahead of her.
/end rant
Anyway, kids, listen to your Auntie R.C. and remember: USE A CONDOM. TWO, IF YOU MUST. AND THE PILL. I don't care if your minister says it's against the law of God; God ain't the one building more pews for your spawn to sit in.
Movie reviews this weekend, as well as a new Spotlight article.
So, after my mother took me out to dinner I took myself to the nearest Showcase Cinemas and saw the 7:30 showing of The Golden Compass. Going in, I wasn't sure what to expect, having not read the book (I wanted to wait to read it, that way I wouldn't be disappointed).
The movie was okay for the most part. The special effects were decent, but it was the acting that really shined. You know how in some movies, it's the cinematography or the script? This time, it was the acting.
For the six and a half minutes that he was on-screen, Daniel Craig rocked. He commanded everyone's attention, even when he wasn't yelling or giving the Council the 007 Glare. Nicole Kidman came to life for once and put in a stellar performance as Marisa Coulter, the head of the Magisterium, who was simultaneously sweet and poisonous... and had a real douche bag of a monkey for a daemon, or animal spirit. Sam Elliot was a cowboy... literally. He was SO good, what with his drawl and his jack rabbit daemon named Hester and his very shiny gun and his greasy hair and Gregory Peck eyebrow-mustache. Ian McKellen was BOMB as Iorek Byrnison, the armored bear, with his strong voice. Every time he got angry, or spoke, I was like, "bitch is gonna die."
EVA GREEN. I want to be you when I grow up. Why are you so pretty and so talented and pretty?
And last but not least, Dakota Blue Richards. She was fantastic as Lyra Belacqua, the protagonist. This is her breakout role and I do think that after this trilogy is done we shall be seeing more of her. I hope we do. She was the right amount of petulant and sarcastic and brave, never afraid to take charge of a scene, even among veteran actors. She was comfortable and genuine, and reminded me a little of myself when I was younger. You know, running through fields and talking to animals and hanging out with old men and gypsies on dirigibles.
However, as fun and fantastic as the acting was, the movie was terribly rushed. I do know some about author Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series, and even without reading the three books I could tell that his characters lost their nuances and the plot was simplified in order to appease a two-hour limit, which is a shame, because I would have loved to have learned more about the characters and the world. A lot of people complained that it was hard to keep up and that they didn't understand some of it. Understandable. Some things definitely got lost in translation while filming this.
But for an adaptation, it could have been worse. It was okay, although not as well thought out as the Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings films.
Go see it, though, if you've got 2 hours to spare and want to see two polar bears kick the ever-loving shit out of each other. And while you're there, kick a Catholic. They're protesting kids going to see this movie because they're afraid the kids will read the books and become atheists. That's right, Catholics, let's not allow our children to read. Have them turn on The Real World, instead.
I give The Golden Compass a 2.5 out of 5.
Well, I watched the 2-hour premiere of SciFi's new miniseries, Tin Man, which is a darker spin on Frank L. Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
The premise was interesting: Tomboyish D.G., played by Zooey Deschanel (whom I love), gets whisked into the O.Z. (Outer Zone), where evil sorceress Azkadellia (Kathleen Robertson) is searching for the Emerald and will use whatever means to get it. D.G. is accompanied by Glitch, the former advisor to the former queen whose brain was stolen, Raw, a humanoid lion who is empathetic as well as clairvoyant, and Cain, a former "tin man" or police officer whose family was taken from him.
Unfortunately, the premise, save for performances by Alan Cumming as Glitch, was really the only shining point of the program. The special effects were mediocre at best, and the script made me want to gouge my eyes out with a spork.
It makes me sad that this is kind of meh. I love Zooey, and I think she's a fantastic actress. The role of D.G. would have been perfect for her if only the script had been better.
Azkadellia is horribly cliché; she's every wicked sorceress you've ever seen, and aside from being able to suck the life out of people she's not all that terrifying. She really can't walk in the boots she's wearing, either.
I'm going to try and stick with it, because maybe it'll pick up, but I was so unimpressed that this might be finished for me.
Good try, though, SciFi. Maybe next time you'll get a better screenplay.
... I write this letter on your behalf.
As sure as the sun will rise and as sure as someone's going to rehab, the end of this semester is drawing nigh!
A good portion of this blog's readers (count: 3) are college students, or at least have friends/relatives that are, and they're probably beginning to stress. There are finals to study for, all-nighters, big papers to write. Red Bull's stock usually sky-rockets around this time.
However, every student can easily be distracted, as they are vulnerable and their attention spans drop to that of a sock.
Here are some ways to survive the next two weeks:
1. Make a list. Not like your Santa lists, unless swearing gets you going. List all the things you need to get done, ranging them from most important/time-consuming to least. And check off the things you do finish.
2. Strategize: Plan so that one subject doesn't take time away from another. If you have two papers to write before the end and one is due before another, don't invest ALL your time into the first one. Be sure to outline the second one and keep thinking about it.
3. For the love of all things good in this world (cake, Sean Biggerstaff, books by Terry Pratchett), get the fuck off of Facebook. Even the most well-meaning student can sit down with every intention of writing a paper and instead find themselves on Facebook with five other windows open, not entirely sure how it happened. Do yourself a favor: stay off of Facebook, stay off of AIM (or at least put up an away message that says you can only be bothered if someone's bleeding out their eyes or if the meadow is on fire), and don't text anybody. This is homework time.
4. Start early. The earlier start you get, the more time you'll have to laugh at everyone else for slacking. And believe me, there's no other ego-boost like it.
5. Metabolize! Eat snacks while you work to keep your energy up. Celery, carrots, cookie dough (or, well, don't)... Don't eat anything too sugary or you'll crash and find yourself watching a marathon of Project Runway. Not that I know from experience.
6. Don't be afraid to ask teachers or tutors for help. Too brain-dead to think of your own ideas? Need a kick in the right direction? That's what they're there for! And they usually get paid; teachers and tutors like to see this kind of proactive shit.
7. Take short breaks. NOW you can hit Facebook or Youtube, but limit your time to about 10 minutes or less. Don't get caught up adding stupid applications so you can make Christmas trees or commenting on EVERY picture someone tagged you in. Not only are you procrastinating, but you're being obnoxious.
8. Be proud of yourself! If you've managed to accomplish one of these things, then there's no stopping you! ... Unless, you know, you get hit by a mack truck or something, but why the hell would you be playing on the highway in the first place?
And remember! R.C. loves you. Sorta.
The Center for Marital and Sexual Studies in Long Beach, CA reported one anonymous woman volunteer as having 134 orgasms in the span of an hour.
I don't know whether to be jealous or slap on a chastity belt for all eternity.
The newest segment! Every week on Thursday I will post a song that I think you ought to be aware of. It will be a different genre, band, era, whatever every time -- or at least most of the time. Click the song title, download, and enjoy!
This week's song is Broken Social Scene's powerful Lover's Spit.
*THIS SONG WILL BE AVAILABLE FOR 7 DAYS ONLY!*
**If you download, I want to know your thoughts. So don't click if you don't want to share.**
I first heard this song in a (favorite) Queer as Folk episode and fell in love. Every time I listen to this, I feel an odd combination of depression, envy, and buoyancy.
Thoughts?
I'll admit, I got this in an email sent to me by my mother (who rocks, btw, and you're all super jealous because she isn't your mother), and I was so moved by it that I needed to post it:
Don't know whether you heard about this
but Denzel Washington and his family visited
the troops at Brook Army Medical Center , in
San Antonio , Texas (BAMC) the other day. This
is where soldiers who have been evacuated from
Germany come to be hospitalized in the United
States, especially burn victims. There are some
buildings there called Fisher Houses. The Fisher
House is a Hotel where soldiers' families can stay,
for little or no charge, while their soldier is staying
in the Hospital. BAMC has quite a few of these houses
on base, but as you can imagine, they are almost filled
most of the time.
While Denzel Washington was visiting BAMC, they gave
him a tour of one of the Fisher Houses. He asked how
much one of them would cost to build. He took his check
book out and wrote a check for the full amount right there
on the spot. The soldiers overseas were amazed to hear
this story and want to get the word out to the American
public, because it warmed their hearts to hear it.
I've changed the name of this blog to "Because Your Life Isn't Interesting". Because it's not.
♥
As sure as the sun will rise and as sure as Britney will run you over, X-mastime is upon us! Or Christmastime. Hanukkahtime. Kwanzaatime. Whatever you believe.
And as your host of this lovely site, it's my job to offer you ideas for gifts, whatever your delight may be. Is it for a lover? A parent? A sibling? A roommate? A person who's not really a friend but you'd feel bad if you didn't get them something?
WELL THEN HAVE I GOT SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR YOU!!!1. Get better friends
Treats
No matter how many new diets come out or how many people you know are on a no-carb, no-fat, no-good kick, everyone abandons their "routine" in favor of the holidays. It's in our blood to bulk up for the winter to hibernate, and what better way to do that than to eat junk food, or as I like to call it, good shit?
Here's a recipe that is bulletproof. And if the gift's for a guy or girl friend, it's sure to get you laid!
Wreath Balls!
You will need...
* 1/2 cup butter (if I hear anyone bitching about how many calories are in butter, I will come over there and beat you.)
* 30 large marshmallows
* 1 1/2 teaspoons green food coloring
* 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 4 cups cornflakes cereal (like Special K! ... Not the drug.)
* 2 tablespoons cinnamon red hot candies
1. Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat. Add the marshmallows, and cook until melted, stirring constantly. If you stop stirring for even a SECOND, it will rise up and slay you. Next, remove from heat, and stir in the food coloring, vanilla, and Ketamine cornflakes.
2. Quickly drop big, honkin' tablespoonfuls of the mixture onto waxed paper, and form into a wreath shape with lightly greased fingers (so for those who've always wanted to bathe in Crisco, now's your moment to shine). Immediately decorate with red hot candies. Allow to cool to room temperature before removing from waxed paper, and storing in an airtight container.
Congratulations to Sean Biggerstaff for winning the BAFTA Scotland Award for BEST ACTOR in TELEVISION. He won for his portrayal of Jeremy Wolfenden in Consenting Adults.
That's right, bitches. I told you he's going places.
Mystery Science Theater 3000. MST3k.
Probably the best show ever.
Do you hate B-movies? Or love to hate them? Would you like to watch a guy and 2 robots watch them and make fun of them all the way through?
Then this is the show for you.
All episodes can be found on Youtube. I recommend "Prince of Space", "Werewolf", and "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians".
Ridley Scott, I love you. You know why? Because you directed Alien, that's why. Because you directed G.I. Jane and Gladiator.
And I know you meant well with this film, I really do. But you didn't quite mean well enough.
For the first, oh, let's say 1.25 hours of American Gangster, I had only four thoughts enter my head:
1. Damn, Denzel's still got it, never lost it come to think of it, and will always have it.
2. Those damn kids in front of me better stop throwing shit at the moviegoers in front of them or I'm going to flip my shit, and why the hell are 10-year olds in this kind of a movie, anyway?
3. Wow, this is dragging.
4. Russell Crowe's going to throw a phone at somebody.
While the performances were nothing short of great (what can you expect from Denzel Washington and that guy who uses Nextel as his own personal WMD?), the movie itself was too long, too convoluted, and didn't have enough screen time for Chiwetel Ejiofor.
However, it did somewhat pick up during the second half, only to fall a bit short again. It wasn't until the climax (the police raid) that I really sat up and paid attention to something other than the performances and the dialog. This scene was so eye-popping and -- dare I say it -- real. For a film set in the 1970's, they didn't go all anachronistic and fit the squad with flak jackets and M-16's. They gave them rifles, boot-cut blue jeans, and mallets.
That was one thing I really enjoyed about the movie: they never let you forget what the time period was. Vietnam was always being talked about and being used for financial gain, people were driving cars I don't even know the names of, they were listening to 60's and 70's dance music, and a 20% tip for a full breakfast was $1.
Ridley Scott tried his best, but there was something about this film that fell flat, even among all the charismatic gangsters, the interesting drug ring, the family dramas, the police corruption.
American Gangster is a lot better than most of the movies out there, but it certainly isn't the best. But I recommend it to anyone who has 2.5 hours to spare and whoever wants to see the Denzel Washington at his high point.
Plus, I hear that Russell's buying stock in T-Mobile, so you'd better go if you value your face.
I give American Gangster a 4/5.
I was perfectly fine with disliking this season of Grey's. I've felt like it's lost a lot of its magic, especially when we take into consideration the whole thing with Eva (recycling the Denny Duquette storyline? C'mon, Shonda.) and this George-Izzie relationship that makes me want to throw up in my mouth.
So, after missing the first half of last week's episode and tuning in and out of the second half, I decided to sit down and watch last night's episode, "Physical Attraction, Chemical Reaction (4.07)".
And it was good.
::blink::
Did I miss a meeting? I mean, seriously, I was all good with Grey's going steadily downhill. I'd come to terms with it after the whole "let's crash a CRUISELINER INTO A FUCKING BRIDGE" hullabaloo, or whatever happened.
And today? I felt a spark while watching. The spark I'd felt back when I first started with Season 1. Maybe it's the Dr. Hahn replacing Burke as the Cardiothorastic guru, or maybe it's Derek and Meredith hopefully getting their shit together. Maybe it's Lexie Grey, Meredith's half-sister, and all of her adorable awkwardness.
MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE EVA'S FINALLY GONE!!!!
Whatever it is, life is slowly creeping back into this show. I do have a few complaints that ABC may soon fix:
1. You turned Callie from a kick-ass force of nature into a scatter-brained, incompetent, mopey incompetent. Um, stop?
2. I still think Kate Walsh needs to come back to the show. That Private Practice is wonderfully mediocre and she's squandering her talent there. But if she wants to bring Tim Daly with her, then by all means...
3. Izzie and George used to be likable. Now they're just annoying. And together, they make me want to go out and start lighting fires. Do whatever you have to in order to end this. Izzie'd already said she'd lost the love of her life when Denny died, and then two seconds later she's confessing her love to George? I don't buy it, and neither does the rest of the audience. CUT. THE. SHIT.
Conclusion: Looks like my Thursday nights are booked again. Damn.
The stairs groaned their displeasure as I walked up to the door that would lead me to my very first interview, two plates of home-made chocolate chip peanut butter cookies balancing in my hand. All I could think about was that I knew how it would go: he would listen to my questions, stifle a laugh, and then suggest I come back once I gained a modicum of intelligence.
It was almost enough to make me leave the cookies at the door and high-tail it back down the stairs.
But despite my worries I knocked and waited a moment until the door swung open, revealing Devon Scalisi, veteran actor of Salem State and first-time director. He smiled disarmingly and ushered me in, thanking me again for doing this (and for making cookies).
"This is my first interview," Devon admitted as we took our two-person party into his room. He sprawled out in his computer chair, the very picture of relaxed grace, and I sat stiffly on the edge of his bed, shuffling my questions and toying with the blue bedspread. His fingers tapped out a cigarette from a pack that materialized out of nowhere, deftly igniting the end. Devon took a drag from it and sighed at the rush of nicotine.
"That's good," I laughed, voice quavering. "This is my first interview, too. We can be horrible together!"
He snorted and I added 'suave' to the list of the things in life I've failed at being.
"Okay," I began, taking out my camera to film the entire conversation, and suddenly he sat up straight, all business now, eyes smoldering and mouth pinched into a thin line. "Why 12 Angry Jurors?"
Harmless question. Hopefully I would get an answer just as innocuous.
With a thoughtful noise, he tapped the accumulating ashes from his cigarette into a glass ashtray. "Why 12 Angry Jurors… when I first started to look for a play, I started to think about ensemble, something where no one would be hogging the spotlight. It was important to me to have everyone on the same page. When you have leads, for example: they have their bows at the end, and if you have something like A Doll's House, Nora and Torvald will undoubtedly take the last bow. As they should, for they're the two characters that move the story along. I didn't want to have [in 12 Angry Jurors] main characters that the story revolves around. Sure, there are characters that speak more than others in the show, but you need the 12 to move the story along. I wanted an ensemble piece where the characters would be on stage together, growing together, with no separation."
He trailed off and then smiled, satisfied, while I sat there gaping like a fool, wondering how I would ever edit something that in-depth, how I would be able to take anything out of an answer like that and still leave it whole.
"Cool," tumbled inadequately from my lips and I inwardly groaned. He must have thought I was the most life-challenged person to ever walk the earth. I drew in a shaky breath. "I, um, sorry." I glanced back down at the sheet of paper, at the second question which was horribly cliché. My career in journalism was looking dismal. And then I remembered that I wasn't a journalist.
I lifted my head and met his eye. He'd been acting all his life; I could act for the next half hour and make him believe I was Confidence incarnate. "You're an actor first, having performed in a great many plays (including William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Edward Albee's Zoo Story, John Guare's Six Degrees of Separation, and Samuel Beckett's Endgame), so when was it that you first started acting? What was your first actual performance?"
A grin lit Devon's face, and I relaxed. He was going to play along. " I first started acting -- my first actual play performance -- my senior year of high school. I had a teacher who, with the drama department, was putting on a musical, and I wasn't a musical guy, I still have problems with them but have learned to embrace them more now." He laughed and shrugged, tapping the ashes off his cigarette, quickly burning to the filter. "So, I didn't participate and my teacher wanted to know why. I told him I didn't have any interest. He asked me what I would like to do, and I said I'd like to perform gritty, little one-acts, grittier theater, because I had done some class work for Equus at the time and it really enticed me.
"So we turned a classroom into a make-shift, small little black box theater, and we would perform these one-acts for an audience who could fit into this classroom. I did three of them my senior year, one or two or three-person shows, and I loved it. That was my first real taste of theater."
His answers were so fluid, so natural, that I felt I was watching a really good movie, where it feels like no time at all passes. I was so enraptured with his words, absorbing them, that it took me a moment to realize he had finished and was now looking expectantly at me for the next question.
"When did you decide you were ready to direct?"
He chuckled. "Oh, wow… hm. That's a good question." I glowed under the praise. "I'd taken a directing class a year and a half ago, but because of my schedule I had to drop it, I had too much going on. Then I re-took it last year, but I mean… I knew I wanted to try it eventually. I like to think I have an organized mind, a grander scheme of a conceptual vision, but I would never actually label myself as a potential director. I've always been an actor-in-training. After being here so long, I felt I'd come to a point -- in my Super Senior Year," he broke off to grin, "and decided that in the setting of a student theater ensemble production (shows put on and acted by students) it would be the time to start directing."
It was time to reveal a secret no journalist would ever admit to: "So, I don't know all that much about the play" -- ouch -- "but I know that there's this idea of a mandatory death sentence, which couldn't be instilled in the current justice system. In what kind of world does the play take place?"
His answer was immediate. "1975. Catherine Bertrand (the artistic director) and I were deciding on a time for the play to take place, and we decided upon 1975 after some research. It was the year of Taylor vs. Louisiana, a case in which -- in the end -- his verdict shouldn't have been. It was also a time in which women didn't serve on a jury panel… actually, 1975 was the last year that this rule was present. Louisiana was the last state to get rid of it.
"1975 was a violent era. The social norm was changing; it was a post-hippie world, Vietnam was ending, Nixon resigned… people were turning to sex, drugs, disco as modes of escape while the reality was that things were extremely tense. Angry. It was an era of hostility. The Taylor vs. Louisiana case just added to it: a panel of white men deciding the fate of a minority."
Almost finished. "The play was originally titled "12 Angry Men", but there are women cast in some of the roles. What were your intentions behind this?"
A bright smile curled his lips. "Sherman Sergel wrote a version titled 12 Angry Women, but the dialog was softened. Women are normally written to be more sensitive -- I don't like that, and I didn't like that version, so I used the script from 12 Angry Men. I wanted the women to have language tendencies of men."
I grinned, his happiness infectious. "Do you plan on directing anything in the future?"
"Yes! In fact, the theater group I helped co-found, Counter-Productions Theater Company, is putting on a production of Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet at the Factory Theater in South Boston. It's another grittier play, another depiction of the raw side of the human equation. The violent deconstruction of man, and the greed of man."
Trying to think of a good segue-way into my last question failed, so I asked outright, staring at this man, a chameleon, a creator, a voice that spoke above most others. "Any advice for all the aspiring directors out there?"
"Know why you want to do a show. "Because I like it" doesn't cut it. Have a reason, know how you want to affect an audience. Theater exists for the audience, not for the glory of a director. Find honesty in the piece. You have to love a show to illustrate what it can do for everyone else."
12 Angry Jurors is playing at the Callan Studio Theater November 8th, 9th, 10th at 8pm and the 11th at 2pm.
Ben Affleck, I'm not a religious person by any stretch, but I mean it sincerely when I say that I forgive you your trespasses.
Ben's directorial debut was fan-f*cking-tastic, and I mean that. It's so nice to pay $10 and not see something that sucks. Gone, Baby, Gone was ridiculously good. There wasn't a bad thing about it.
Let's start with the synopsis: In the gritty streets of South Boston, a little girl named Amanda McCready goes missing, her disheveled mother begging on TV for whoever it was that took her to let her come home. Local private investigators and lovers, Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro, are asked by the little girl's aunt and uncle to assist in the case, already the police's top priority. Along with two detectives, Patrick uncovers a conspiracy that delves far deeper than mere police corruption.
Casey Affleck ("the cuter and better actor" Affleck brother) bursts into his first leading role with such genuineness and skill, you'd think he'd been an A-list actor for years. He was so quietly real, so hard as Patrick, both real man and character having been cultivated on the streets of Southie. On a scale of 1-10, his performance was a 10 to the 10th power.
Ed Harris played detective Remy Bressant, a man who's seen many things, who believes that sometimes you need to do the wrong thing in order to do the right. Harris, a veteran actor, was awesome, and not at all what he appeared. Bressant was the kind of anti-hero you love... only to find your faith in him shattered when you get too comfortable. There were moments where I felt like he was yelling at me, he was so into it.
The supporting cast was great, Michelle Monaghan as Angie, the idealist girlfriend and voice of reason. I loved her so much as Harmony in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, one of my favorite comedies, and I was glad to see her skill wasn't limited to just humor. Amy Ryan as coked-out Helene McCready was phenomenal, continually having me torn between cringing at her language and indifference to her child's disappearance and sympathizing with her as the reality of the situation came crashing down upon her. Amy Madigan as Beatrice was amazingly heartfelt, her desperation to find Amanda at any cost just tugged at me. Titus Welliver is a new face for me, but he was great, although his mustache was a bit distracting (it had its own life force, like Sam Waterston's eyebrows).
And Morgan Freeman is Morgan Freeman. 'Nuff said. There are no words for his greatness.
The cinematography, though, was what clinched it, the shots of Boston, of the real people who inhabit Southie, never sparing us from those who would be deemed ugly or disgusting. There would be shots of the sides of buildings, eroding with time and carelessness, graffitied, everyone leaving their mark. There was one shot of a quarry, surrounded by jagged cliffs, that reflected the sky in the water, and it was like looking up a well into the sky up-side down. I wanted that image hanging on my wall, it was so well captured.
The film itself always left you guessing until the very end, never revealing a thing. The viewer learned with Patrick, was a part of the investigation from beginning to end to after-end. It was a poignant piece that will definitely stay with me, cement Ben Affleck's career as a director, and open up a mess of doors for the littlest Affleck.
I give Gone Baby Gone 5 out of 5.
... that TV has a show THIS good. Seriously. I remember when I used to like Grey's Anatomy, but not even that or Heroes can compare to the love I have for Dirty Sexy Money.
Chester Comics was a series of short, semi-surreal comics about the people at my former college. They were quite the hit, but after I transferred I stopped making them. However, I decided a few weeks ago that I would continue them, only dealing with a much broader playing field, different people and subject matter...
And I bring them to you!
edit: I hate this blog template.
What day, you might ask? The day I got through about ten minutes of Heroes before I decided it'd be worth my time to make some eggplant parm and doodle.
AKA: I didn't care enough to watch it. The show is just so boring, and these "twists"... I'm passionately ambivalent about it all. Just like tonight. It's on in half an hour, I have an essay to write, and I really couldn't care.
TIM KRING, IT'S TOO EARLY FOR YOU TO START GOING DOWNHILL!!! GET RID OF MAYA AND ALEJANDRO, GET HIRO BACK TO THE PRESENT, AND TELL HAYDEN TO STOP FLAT-IRONING HER HAIR AND THEN WE'LL TALK!!!!
In other news, Dumbledore from the Harry Potter series is gay. If anyone didn't see that coming, please exit out of this window and never return. (see below)
Oh, for crying out loud. This so figures.
Thanks for dashing all my hopes and dreams, WGA.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21386389/
(+) 
= Well, I have to admit that I'm a bit disappointed in Maroon 5. I saw them last night at the Fleet Center (or whatever they're calling it this week) in Boston, along with 260,000 screaming 14-year olds.
I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was Adam Levine's awkward connections with the crowd, continually making innuendoes about feeling heat and being sexy. The only time I was interested in him speaking was when he introduced the band members.
They did play some of their best hits, but I was disappointed to find that they focused more on songs from Songs About Jane than they did from their new album, It Won't Be Soon Before Long. They never played "Not Falling Apart", which is one of the best songs on the album, nor did they play "Back At Your Door", which is my favorite song off of It Won't Be Soon...
And that 6 minute drum solo? Genesis's drum solo went for 11 minutes longer, and it was a lot better.
Because Genesis is better, but that's another story.
All in all, it was an okay concert. The Hives opened for them and I enjoyed their performance. I've never seen anyone so energetic on stage before, not even when I saw Bon Jovi. But if you have the chance to see Maroon 5, I suppose you can take the opportunity.
And then my mother (my concert buddy) told me that she could've gotten tickets for the Gone Baby Gone premiere (Ben Affleck's new movie), and didn't so we could see Maroon 5. I could've been on the red carpet asking Ben Affleck about his new directing career (which is being lauded by critics) but instead I was at a wonderfully mediocre concert.
Sometimes I wonder if my family members stopped getting oxygen to their brains.
Mysterious deaths, red carpet cat fights, and kick-ass transsexuals -- OH MY!
This show really has everything. I almost wish I was a part of the Darling family, if only because the entertainment factor goes up exponentially when they're around.
Episode 3 of Dirty Sexy Money was really good. Just like episodes 1 and 2.
In this episode, the conflict to be dealt with is one that we've suddenly seen an increase of ever since Paris Hilton made it popular: a sex tape. Nick is charged by Darling family publicist Rebecca Colfax (who's as cutthroat and hilarious as anything) to pay the man ONE MILLION DOLLARS (Austin Powers...? Anyone? No? Darn) who has the tape of Karen with her fianceé's caddy and is threatening to release it onto the internet.
That, and Nick goes to the police with the collection of all of the dealings (legal and illegal) of Simon Elder, which had been in his father's briefcase the day he died. Nick believes that Elder was definitely involved with his father's death. Despite Tripp (♥)'s warnings that the police won't be of any help, the police indeed prove to be useless (quelle surprise), as no one wants to tackle the world's richest man. Tripp pleads with Nick to let him help, but Nick isn't entirely sure that Tripp had nothing to do with the death, either.
Jeremy is going to find himself in hot water soon, involved in a relationship with twin sister's former best friend and now hated rival, Natalie Kimpton. Juliet feels (with her "twintuition") that something is up with her brother, despite his vehement denials. It culminates in a showdown between Juliet and Natalie on the red carpet the night of her brother's senate campaign kick-off. Jeremy sides with his sister in front of all the press, much to Natalie's chagrin, but he makes it up to her by giving her a diamond necklace.
Speaking of Patrick, he made me fume when he broke up with Carmelita, the transgendered woman he's been seeing. She stands up for herself and makes quite an exit. You go, girl! But Patrick laments the loss of her to Nick during a limo ride. ("She made me 30 pairs of underwear with my favorite Yankees on the butts... That's love. What kind of jerk throws that away?")
::melts::
Patrick kicks off his campaign by ending his speech with an epitaph of Nick's, "Tomorrow is another day, of opportunity, of chance." AND THEN HE GETS BACK TOGETHER WITH CARMELITA!!!!
Speaking of: 
THAT'S HER!!! Isn't she absolutely gorgeous?! Her name is Candis Cayne, and she's just beautiful. And a great actress, if Dirty Sexy Money is anything to go by. I actually got into a fight on IMDB's message board about her with some Bible-thumping bitch who kept saying that the child Candis and her husband adopted is going to grow up depraved, because Candis isn't a real woman and God hates her.
You can imagine my retort. Just let me say that it was good.
So, back to the sex tape debacle: Nick goes to pay off the man for the sex tape with the million he got from one of the family's MANY vaults full of money, but the man's girlfriend explains that someone made a better offer -- three million. She doesn't know who bought it. It turns out, at the end of the episode, that SIMON ELDER (gasp) bought it, but one of Elder's lackies gives it to Nick with all legal documents and copies.
The lacky warns Nick: "He's not the man you think he is, and neither is your boss."
DUM DUM DUUUUUUM!!!!!
Next episode? LISA GEORGE FINALLY TELLS OFF KAREN! That's right, Karen! You're annoying and Nick doesn't love you anymore. SO BEAT IT!
... but something happened on the way to the TV.
So, I'm at home, all geared up to watch Dirty Sexy Money before Grey's Anatomy starts at 9pm. My mother was kind enough to tape it for me, so I'm fast forwarding through the tape (which has all her shows on it) and I stop right at the beginning of the newest episode of Bones.
I used to watch Bones sporadically when it was in its first season. And if I happened to be in the room when it was on, I'd watch it. I really enjoyed the chemistry between David Boreanaz and Emily Deschanel; they reminded me of Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler from Law & Order: SVU. You were just DYING for them to get together. But I never really made the time for Bones.
NOW I'm wondering what the eff I've been doing!!
Right from the start of the episode (titled: "Death in the Saddle"), I was hooked. Some little kid on a field trip finds a dead body behind some bushes, maggots writhing in and dropping out of its eye sockets. I was like, "EWWWWW...... awesome."
So naturally I need to watch it and find out who did it. Another thing in common with Law & Order.
The body is missing its feet, which are found several, um, feet away. Severed with precision. Also during examination, raw oats and molasses are found in the victim's stomach... horse food. Dr. Brennan, or "Bones" as she's called, researches it and discovers that racing horses are buried separate from their feet. The feet get their own resting spot, as the feet of a horse represent power.
Which leads them to discover what the victim, Ed Milner, had been up to.
He was into "pony play", a sexual role-playing game derived from S&M where the submissive one is dressed up and assumes the identity of a horse, and the dominant one plays the rider, who commands the horse. The "pony" is treated exactly as a horse would be: saddled, bit in the mouth, led around on a lead, given commands, eat from troughs, and are rubbed down and placed into stables. When in the role of a "pony", the man or woman loses their real identity and truly becomes the horse.
The best part? Ed Milner's pony name is "Mr. Ed". I had to pause the tape and crack up for a good two minutes.
Agent Booth, played by David Boreanaz, is less than impressed. He's quick to judge and fly out with the snappy comments -- which I love.
While Booth and Bones investigate the mansion that houses these pony games, Angela Montenegro, an artist who specializes in reconstructing facial features and crime scenes and also Bones's bffl, is trying to undergo hypnosis to remember the name of the man she'd married one drunken night in Tahiti so she can divorce his ass and marry her boyfriend, Dr. Jack Hodgins, THE MOST SNARKY MAN ON THE PLANET AND AFTER MY OWN HEART.
I actually didn't pay much attention to this substory. I was too focused on my jealousy of how pretty Michaela Conlin (Angela) is and how much T.J. Thyne (Hodgins) rocks my skull.
Eric Millegan's Dr. Zack Eddy, the akward and neophyte GENIUS, is so hilariously tragic. He's so awkward. I love him.
Hodgins and Eddy are like the bffl's you see in every sitcom... except together they're COMEDIC GOLD.
"You really suck all the fun out of any moment of personal triumph." Hodgins wins at life.
But anyway, it turns out that Mr. Ed's (tee hee... "A horse is a horse, of course of course") rider, "Annie Oakley", killed him because she'd left her husband for him, but he wasn't prepared to leave his wife (who was divorcing him anyway after finding him in the stable being rubbed down by Annie). So, she buried him like a horse, complete with slamming a hoof knife into his forehead, which is how horses are slaughtered.
Okay, I need a second to get that image out of my head. And possibly take a minute to cry. I hate humans. We should pull a Caligula and elect a horse into the senate. I mean, we've already got a bunch of asses there, anyway.
But I digress...
I think after this smartly funny and interesting episode that I'm going to have to take time to continue watching it.
And don't even get me started on how House is still so cool. I didn't get to finish that episode... Grey's came on.
Conclusion: I STILL didn't get to see Dirty Sexy Money!!!
You like that? Yeah, I thought so.
Thoughts on the second part of "Five Days":
1. Wow, Matt. Just attack/walk out on everyone who says the wrong thing. That sort of behavior makes you look really innocent to the press.
2. Kyle's mom, you're the MAN. Sort of.
3. Kyle. Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. I have no idea what role you play in this whole thing, but you freak me out and therefore deserve to be arrested. Glad the police agreed with me.
4. ROSIE!!!! Safe... and totally physically unharmed? In your great-grandfather's trailer? Um. Quoi?
5. Dear wannabe journalist whose name I can't remember,
You're a fame-greedy, shameless whore and I hate you. And your mother wore stupid hats.
Not yours,
R.C.
6. PENELOPE WILTON, YOU WIN AT LIFE. "How did I get to be so old?"... your press conference... YOU. Oh my God, you are so awesome, even if you're playing a not-so-good mother. BUT YOU DO IT SO WELL. I LOVED YOU AS BARBARA IN SHAUN OF THE DEAD.
7. Tanya, stop talking. kthx.
8. STOP ENDING ON HORRIBLE CLIFFHANGERS THAT DRIVE ME SLOWLY INSANE WHILE I WAIT FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK TO PASS.
9. I have no idea what you're doing, Sarah Wheeler, but crying in your car after being told to leave the family alone was kind of sketchy. God, I hope you're not some crazy stalker/not planning on stealing Ethan.
10. Iain, you rock. Get down with your camera-shy self.
This show is so good. As a character drama, though. It ain't no Law & Order or CSI.
Of course when I start writing screenplays the Writer's Guild is threatening to go on strike. And now producers are telling writers that their services are no longer needed.
Did the boat leave and I just wasn't on it?
WTF!!!
Read it here: http://www.abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/story?id=3706514&page=1
Oh, Hollywood. GET IT TOGETHER!
And nobody in all of Oz
No Wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!
I am fortunate enough to have a mother who exceeds the definition of "AMAZING". Not only is she my best friend and loves me unconditionally, but she bought me tickets to see Wicked at the Boston Opera House last night (She also bought me Genesis concert tickets, The Police concert tickets, and Maroon 5 -- which is coming up next week, with a review).
After seeing Wicked for the first time, I can only say this: _______________.
That's right. I have no words.
The play was nothing short of spectacular. I was absolutely riveted... even when my sister spilled her sprite all over my foot. I've never seen anything like Wicked. The special effects were incredible, the costumes were beautiful and brilliant, and the performances? Oh man. I needed a cigarette when all was said and done.
For the unworthy idiots people who don't know, Wicked is the prequel to TheWizard of Oz. We learn how Glinda and Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, got to be who they are. AND OH MY GOD, WHAT A DELIGHTFULLY COMPLEX AND SURPRISING STORY.
I won't spoil it for those who haven't seen it yet, but let's just say that the whole thing about the Wicked Witch being evil...? TOTAL misunderstanding.
Victoria Matlock played Elphaba, and she was fantastic. She was wonderfully sarcastic and sharp, and she conveyed so much emotion into every word she spoke. I was so impressed by her.
But it was Christina DeCicco who stole the show as the self-absorbed and uproarious Glinda ("the 'guh' is silent"). She absolutely glowed. And she was SO. DAMN. FUNNY. Oh my God, she did this hilarious childish falsetto and acted like a spoiled brat through half of the play. Sometimes, you had to wonder if she was on Speed. Christine was the Captain Jack Sparrow of the entire play. Show-stopping and side-splittingly good.
I'm so happy that I got to go. Even though the cast will most likely be different (shame), I'd love to go again. I would have really liked to see Idina Menzel reprise her role as the original Elphaba on Broadway. Oh well.
Wicked is playing in Boston from 09.12.07 -- 11.09.07. I suggest you do whatever it takes to see it. You can get tickets on the Boston Opera House website or Ticket Master.
Note: I was made aware of this a year or two ago. If you're a student, you can present your student ID an hour before whatever show you want to see starts and get in for $25. Your seats might not be great, BUT STOP YOUR BITCHING BECAUSE YOU'RE SEEING THE PLAY.
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