“Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music cry ‘Caesar!’ Speak. Caesar is turn’d to hear. Beware the ides of March.” Be careful out there today, y’all.
Month: March 2005
Spin, Spin Sugar.
It’s been Extreme Makeover time lately for the GOP, with Antonin Scalia acting chummy in hopes of landing the Chief Justice spot, Boss DeLay dismissing the recent allegations of incessant boondogglery, Karen Hughes coming out of mothballs to sell the Islamic world on Dubya, and the administration trying to sell the rest of us on pre-packaged news. I’m not buying any of it.
Everybody’s a Comedian.
“It’s interesting the kind of issues that first raise their head, really. How do you deliver the Citizen Kane of comic books to screen? That is basically the problem. It’s a bit intimidating to be honest.” Director Paul Greengrass talks with CHUD on preproduction of — and transformations to — The Watchmen. Update: Here’s Parts 2 and 3.
One Step Beyond — Madness 2005.
“Tell me, ‘friend,’ when did Saruman the Wise abandon reason for Madness?” Why, in Mid-March, of course…another year has gone round, and it’s time once again for The Big Dance. I’ll admit, I’ve been following this year’s college scene even less than usual, so I expect my picks to be highly suspect. Still, ya never know…
Without DeLay.
“‘If death comes from a thousand cuts, Tom DeLay is into a couple hundred, and it’s getting up there,’ said a Republican political consultant close to key lawmakers.” Wait, isn’t he with you? As the ethics charges mount, including another recently unearthed boondoggle paid for by gambling interests, GOP leaders start looking askance at The Hammer. It’s all murmuring right now — in public, the Republicans are circling the wagons. Still, these things have a way of turning quickly…
Have your cake and eat it too.
Big doings for the cast and crew of Layer Cake, a Guy Ritchie-like London crime film coming out this summer. Its director, Matthew Vaughn, will take Bryan Singer’s place in the X3 director’s chair, and its star, Daniel Craig, is apparently on the short list for the new Bond (along with Nip/Tuck‘s Julian McMahon.) Of those two, I’d go with Craig.
Look, up in the air!
Speaking of Bryan Singer, he’s apparently decided to take a page from Peter Jackson and offer a series of online production updates for Superman. Not much to see so far, but keep your eyes skyward.
Inflated Currency.
Hmmm. A million dollars sure doesn’t go as far as used to. (And you’d think with that kinda cash Clint could have invested in a few more lights around the set.) At any rate, I’m willing to bet I might have thought more of Million Dollar Baby if I had seen it before the hype machine kicked in (and before I knew the twist, since I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.) But, well, MDB was a harmless helping of manipulative schlock, I guess. But even if I hadn’t seen Aliens of the Deep just beforehand, this film would have come off as a woefully two-dimensional enterprise.
At this late date, you probably know the story. Grizzled archetypal trainer Clint Eastwood and his grizzled archetypal sidekick Morgan Freeman run a dark and dilapidated boxing facility, without benefit of loyal title contenders or fluorescent lighting. Into this duo’s endless Who’s More Grizzled repartee steps Hillary Swank, a plucky, gosh-darned-don’t-that-girl-have-heart boxer-wannabe from the wrong side of the tracks, who’s burdened with the scariest, goofiest redneck family this side of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. (And don’t even get me started on Cletus, or Forrest, or Danger, or whatever that gimpy kid’s name was.) Soon enough, plucky Swank has even managed to thaw the heart of frosty ole Clint, and together they make that long-awaited title run, until…ack!
Like I said, MDB was ok enough as a hammy diversion, but I’d say its emotional resonance wasn’t too far removed from the Touched By an Angel melodrama of last week’s The Jacket. It’s a by-the-numbers boxing movie that turns into a by-the numbers Lifetime movie-of-the-week. Sure, the acting is polished across the board, but I thought the characters were for the most part shallow and cartoonish. (In fact, Morgan Freeman is barely even playing a character — he’s a Shawshank voiceover tinged with a touch of Bagger Vance.) And the plot barely holds together — I’m sorry, but, Evander Holyfield’s ear notwithstanding, you’re just not going to get away with that many sucker punches in a title fight.
I’m probably being a bit too hard on this flick — it made for a reasonably engaging two hours, sure. Perhaps it even works as an homage to the Hollywood of yore — at times this felt like a Karl Malden vehicle from 50 years ago. But, simply put, this was in no way the best film of last year — I’ll take Eternal Sunshine, The Aviator, Sideways, The Incredibles and a host of others over MDB any day of the week and twice on Sunday. This isn’t even the best Clint film in recent years – Mystic River was much more well-realized, and obviously Unforgiven is head-and-shoulders above this drek. How MDB won the Oscar bout is beyond me…Call McCain — the fix was in.
King of the Underworld
Despite feeling kinda rotten, I did venture out to the movies on Saturday night (armed with a hefty bag of throat lozenges) for an impromptu double feature. At the top of the bill was James Cameron’s IMAX extravaganza Aliens of the Deep and, all I can say is, if Cameron wants to make Battle Angel Alita using this funky 3-D technology, hail to the King. Granted, I haven’t seen a 3-D movie since the days before Captain Eo. Nevertheless, the effect was much improved, and made what could have been a staid underwater documentary comprised of what look to be outtakes from The Abyss into a riveting, jaw-dropping wonder.
I’ll admit, I was also fond of Cameron’s central conceit here, which is that our best bet for finding life in this solar system — at Europa, say — would be of the kind inexplicably thriving around thermal vents in the darkest, deepest parts of the ocean, where the sun never shines (and thus photosynthesis never takes place.) And what strange life it is! Innumerable swarming shrimp scuttle between ice-cold and boiling-hot water with nary an antenna twitch. Strange symbiotic tube worms ensnare food for their inner bacteria, which digests for them. Ethereal jellyfish float by, improbably yet undeniably alive. And, thanks to the 3-D, it seems you can reach out and touch all of these creatures just before your eyes — in fact, you can see them better in their natural habitat than any human being possibly could. It’s really quite amazing.
Like I said, I don’t know if Aliens of the Deep would be everyone’s cup of tea — most of the film just involves young astrobiologists and underwater explorers enthusing over their wild and crazy jobs in tiny little subs. But, whenever a strange new animal popped up on the screen, and particuarly when the camera hurtles past the moons of Jupiter on its CGI-way to far-flung Europa, I thought to myself, “Now, that’s Edutainment!”
Sick to Deadwood.
“You take the blue pill: the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill: you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.” Or, if you’re feeling as under the weather as I have, you just take ’em both: DayQuil when you get up, NyQuil at bedtime. Fortunately, I’m feeling a bit better today, and at least I got to catch up on the first season of Deadwood over the weekend. I know I’m generally a late-comer to quality TV, and this is no exception. Still, it’s a great show.