Author: KcM

Take a pass, Rush.

See, this is why you don’t hire right-wing throwbacks to cover football games…Rush Limbaugh invokes the “black quarterback” canard during an Eagles game, claiming that Donovan McNabb has been overhyped because “the media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well.” I presume he also thinks the media was behind the respective successes of Randall Cunningham, Kordell Stewart, Steve McNair, and Michael Vick (currently the most exciting QB in the game.) In keeping with his jackass nature, Rush is naturally standing by his comments. (For their part, Clark, Dean, and Sharpton have also weighed in.) ESPN should do the right thing and let Limbaugh dangle, but I doubt that’s going to happen…even with whatever dirt the Enquirer‘s drudged up on him. After all, as this story notes, “Limbaugh once said he felt guilty about telling an African-American caller to ‘take that bone out of your nose and call me back.’ He still uses the mock dialect ‘ax’ instead of ‘ask’ when discussing black leaders on his syndicated radio show and often plays the theme song ‘Movin’ On Up’ from ‘The Jeffersons’ when referring to Carol Moseley Braun.” Does this racist buffoon have any business covering the world of sports? Update: Well, that’s then…Rush resigned. Smart of him to try to nip this Lott-sized bud now before everyone starts taking a closer look at his long history of questionable racial remarks.

Return of the King.


Well, I really wish I could report that Bubba Ho-Tep, in which Elvis Presley [Bruce Campbell (!)] and JFK [Ossie Davis (?!)] team up to save their East Texas retirement home from an ancient soul-sucking mummy, is as hilarious as the premise. But, sadly, once you get past the high-concept comedy, you’re left with a bunch of low-brow buffoonery and a stalled story that moves slower than even these aging convalescents. For his part, Campbell swings for the fences, and does a surprisingly wistful turn on the King, but unfortunately he has very little to work with here. It seems the writers never got very far past the founding conceit of having these two icons team up, so neither do we.

As a comedy, Bubba Ho-Tep is only intermittently funny. The best two scenes both involve Reservoir Dogs-style slo-mo hero shots – you’ll know ’em when you see ’em. The rest of the jokes are scattershot and many, particularly the ones involving the two undertakers, are just D.O.A. As a horror movie…well, this isn’t scary at all. Ho-tep and his flock of giant scarabs are played for laughs. (So, of course, was all of Evil Dead 2, — Campbell’s finest hour — but I’ll submit that the mother-zombie singing the Mockingbird song at the basement door is genuinely creepy.) Surprisingly, Bubba Ho-Tep probably works best as a meditation on aging. Entirely too much of the narrative is propelled by an Elvis/Campbell voiceover, but his twilight ruminations do occasionally add a touch of poignancy to this story of legends laid low by the ravages of time. Not enough, sadly, to recommend the film, though. Campbell is good, but Bubba Ho-Tep is all set-up and no follow-through.

Space Cadet.

General Wesley Clark stumps for faster-than-light travel in New Hampshire. “I still believe in e=mc², but I can’t believe that in all of human history, we’ll never ever be able to go beyond the speed of light to reach where we want to go. I happen to believe that mankind can do it…It’s my only faith-based initiative.” Well, I guess he’s up on Dubya, who’s still trying to work out evolution. At the same rally, Clark introduced Professor John Frink as his potential National Science Advisor. “Suppose we extend the square beyond the two dimensions of our universe… along the hypothetical Z axis, there…”

War Chests.

In other campaign news, Bush outtpaced Dean — the leading Democratic fund-raiser — by a factor of three in the past three months, and has now raised $82.5 million for his 2004 campaign. No money for jobs, no money for rebuilding Iraq…but plenty to go around for Dubya’s re-election. Go figure.

Immigrant Song.


So, in my abortive attempt to catch the RotK trailer Friday night — Sony Lincoln Square wisely put Secondhand Lions in the basement theater to stop people like me from sneaking in for the previews…well played, y’all — I ended up seeing Stephen Frears’s Dirty Pretty Things, starring Chiwetel Ejiofor and Audrey Tautou. Worth seeing (although I preferred Lost in Translation), DPT is a tale of immigrant woe that starts very strong and gets weaker as it goes along. Holding down a number of dead-end jobs and chewing qat to stay awake at all hours of the day, a Nigerian-born doctor in London (Ejiofor, in a captivating, star-making performance) finds a hotel toilet clogged by a human heart. While this grisly discovery is never satisfactorily explained, it nevertheless propels him into an underworld organ-selling network that thrives on London’s most desperate new arrivals.

Ejiofor is great throughout the film, and DPT strikingly portrays how his character Okwe can get pretty much anywhere just by acting like the help. That being said, I thought the narrative lost its considerable momentum when the denouement becomes obvious, and when Frears made the implicit “invisible immigrant” theme too explicit. (He gives Ejiofor some pithy bon mots near the end about the plight of the unseen, just in case you’ve somehow missed the point thus far.) Plus, once you get past Okwe and arguably Tautou’s Senay, you basically end up with a lot of stereotyped characters straight out of Central Casting — the drunk and fun-loving Russian, the hooker with the heart of gold, the Asian morgue-worker who plays chess and ruminates on the Afterlife, the two INS guys who inexplicably take an interest in Tautou (and equally inexplicably follow her from job to job – How exactly did they find her at the sweatshop, and why did they care so much? Just a sentence or two of explanation would’ve satisfied me.) Still, while the film may never deliver on its early promise, it is enjoyable and thought-provoking throughout, and Ejiofor is very, very good – I hope to see more from him in the future.