I’m losing interest in reviewing this show week after week. In fact, I haven’t recapped the past couple (Gerard Butler, Taylor Swift). So I may look over Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s and give my two cents. I’ve already seen it a couple of times. Keep an eye out.
Perusing through the Sunday circulars led to isolated incidents of sudden nausea. Open up Best Buy or Target’s catalogues, turn to their DVD sales, and you’ll find something we haven’t really seen since Leo, JTT or N’Sync. Unless my eyes mistook the regrettable image, I’d swear they saw a new disc titled “Rob-sessed.” In fact, after several squints and slaps to the forehead, it was true.
Aren’t we passed advertising these repulsive, fan-pandering mixtapes in major circulars? These days, when it’s tough to turn a buck, I suppose it’s necessary. But let’s not apologize for cringing at the site of what ought to be internet fodder. Behold the power of “Twilight” and its Hollywood-manufactured star Robert Pattinson (I’m still not convinced he’s really British).
Given, I’m no 12-year-old girl, but I just don’t get it. Regrettably (not), I haven’t read more than three sentences of Stephanie Meyer’s colossally successful book series about angst-ridden teenage vampires, but I did get dragged into theaters to watch the first movie by my fiancé. She’s read all of the books and isn’t ashamed of it. An extremely well-read educator with a passion for English literature, she admits the writing itself is mediocre and even laughable at times. My question to her then is, “Then how did you read the entire 640-page third book (‘Eclipse’) while I watched last year’s Bama-Mississippi State football game?”
She might turn the tables on me and ask, “How could you sit through another stupid football game?” and fair enough. Many, like her, get whisked away into Meyer’s unadulterated simple romantic storytelling. Grammar and layered subtext be damned, repressed tweens and fanatical adults frantically choose between “Team Edward” or “Team Jacob” T-shirts like it’s their job. In fact, I’d wager that most guys are literally jealous of the hunky emo bloodsucker their girlfriends, fiancés and wives pine about all day and night when he’s nothing but a freaking fictional vampire.
“What do you see in that douche?!” they might scream as they threaten their partners with their relationships. It’s not even that stick-figure Brit Pattinson they lust after. It’s Edward Cullen. They’ll insist that they fell for this clown before they’d even heard the Quidditch pro from “Harry Potter” was cast in the first movie. If you believe them, then you’re a born sucker.
It’s a battle we’ll never win, fellas. Get over it. Stop asking why, and just roll with it. Maybe even pick up one of Meyer’s books, and see what the fuss is about. No one will judge or point and laugh. We promise. Remember, some of “Twilight’s” biggest fans are just as embarrassed as you would be.
Should we make fun of these fans, though? I watched a clip of Kevin Smith’s Q&A session at this year’s Comic-Con in San Diego where thousands in Hall H booed with the director mentioned the franchise’s panel. He silenced their cries and said he thought it was great how only at Comic-Con can a guy dressed as Chewbacca look over at a guy dressed as Spock and say, “Man, that guy is a f—-ing dork!”
We can boo, scoff, point, laugh and condescend, but we must remember that we’re outnumbered by an army of loyal geeks in their own right. You and I might not understand this unprecedented phenomenon of sullen vampires with relationship issues. But look into that mirror after you hopelessly stare at your “Star Wars” action figure collection. Resist your urges to snicker and patronize when you’re paying for your and your date’s ticket for “New Moon” tonight (unless you got dragged to last night’s midnight show). You’ve only revved up that machine even more. It’s too late. Now which team are you?
‘The Twilight Saga: New Moon’ at the Cobb Hollywood 16: Stephanie Meyer’s vampire book series phenomenon managed to translate pretty seamlessly to the big screen, and good for it. The first movie is pretty harmless, so extreme naysayers obviously have nothing better to do or rage issues due to closeted lifestyles. Outsiders ought to simply observe these “Team Edward” girls’ behavior at the site of their emo prince. I haven’t heard as many audible female gasps since I was in the Ed Sullivan theater when the Beatles played on national television.
’The Blind Side at the Cobb Hollywood 16: Convincing Nick Saban to play himself is the best casting move since Heath Ledger was tapped as the Joker. Honestly, this man was made for the big screen, and he’s got a future in acting if he ever up and quits coaching. Watching the trailer where Sandra Bullock unashamedly admits in front of her husband how handsome she thinks Saban is, you’ve got to think the coach only agreed to do the movie if that were in the contract. “Sandy B.’s gotta have the hots for me, aight? Otherwise, the deal’s of.” Seriously, though, this heartwarming depiction of former Ole Miss tackle Michael Oher’s rise from poverty should be solid cornball entertainment.
Chuck Leavell tonight at the Bama Theatre: Don’t miss a hometown boy who played keyboards for the Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, George Harrison and the Allman Brothers rock the Bama stage tonight. Often a background figure to some of rock and roll’s most legendary artists, Leavell gets the stage to himself tonight, and we should all benefit from the notes he’ll play and the stories he’ll tell that’ll continue to make us proud that he spent some of his best years in Tuscaloosa.
Props to the Cobb Hollywood 16 in Tuscaloosa for bringing this sooner than expected. Normally, we’re late to the Oscar buzz conversation.
If you can squeeze through Twilight mania this weekend, check this out.
Matt Scalici and I just recorded our first sports podcast. Click here and listen!!!
Subjects include: College football’s national championship and Heisman races, the UT arrests, NBA free agency, etc.
Ready to soak this in for the next few days. Several discs included. Will take a while. So far, so good. Rummaging through the teen years of Lennon and McCartney right now.
Oh, no! Not the Mayan calendar!
You’d better run. Fast. After all, the faster you sprint, the faster you outrun the Earth crumbling in on itself, as tidal waves and molten lava shred through humanity as we know it, and all is lost forever. In fact, don’t run. Hop aboard a single-engine plane and scurry through the air, dodging falling skyscrapers and crashing helicopters in this apocalypse.
Sounds like Roland Emmerich. The mad scientist behind “Independence Day,” “Godzilla” and “The Day After Tomorrow” (we’ll forget all about “10,000 B.C.,” Roland) thought of new and bigger ways to destroy our planet. This invisible force of nature moves at rapid speed, swallowing up mountains and city streets as John Cusack makes hurried escapes in station wagons and dingy planes. What’s a destructive chase without a one-liner, folks?
Emmerich seems a tad obsessed with ruining our beautiful world. With each film, he tends to up the ante in terms of how he can scare the teeth out of our mouths with just one two-minute trailer packed with enough CGI to re-ruin the “Star Wars” franchise. Granted, most of us will marvel at what precious little footage we see of Emmerich’s ridiculously over-the-top “2012” because massive carnage is cool. We likes our ‘splosions. We likes ‘em a lot.
But will we waltz into a theater for anything beyond those two minutes? These days? Raise your hand if you want to escape into a world that ceases to exist. Emmerich will at least help us forget about the troubled economy by conning us into a heap of fear, fear that our airplane will hurl itself into a shower of a million flaming meteors. He’ll dupe us into clicking on Wikipedia link after link to read whoever’s version of what exactly the Mayans predicted, er, warned.
We’ll go, though. We’ll pay good money to watch stuff blow up. Familiar stuff, that is. Remember 1996? That’s when Emmerich blew up the White House and Empire State Building (with Alex from “Saved by the Bell: The College Years” on top). Two years later, he sent a giant lizard (or dinosaur, according to your interpretation of the design) back into New York and tore apart as many buildings as he could. Six years after that, global warming also swarmed the Big Apple and even froze Lady Liberty up to her wrist.
What’s Emmerich got against mankind, anyway? Life as we know it must have given him noogies and swirlies in junior high or something. Otherwise, he might make Kate Hudson romantic comedies – that blow up.
I’ll confess that I’ve seen and liked several of Emmerich’s movies. I wouldn’t even call “Independence Day” a guilty pleasure at this point. It’s just fun. But the word “redundant” and “silly” often come to mind when reviewing the man’s résumé. No doubt, he has a knack for visual wonderment amplified by computer-generated effects. If you needed a metropolis destroyed in a matter of seconds by tangible or intangible being, you’d call him. It’s just old by now.
Granted, optimists often hope a repeat offender filmmaker manages to get it right after a few swings and misses. Emmerich doesn’t shoulder all the blame in the arena of redundancy. How often do we complain when Woody Allen tackles infidelity in New York City? True fans don’t, anyway. Emmerich just likes what he likes, and he gets lots of financial backing to do it. If only we didn’t feed that monster. We’re partially responsible, I’m afraid. Seven of his movies have grossed nearly $1 billion domestically, his highest grossers the annihilation specialists. Spectacle never hurt anyone. That’s a lie. It hurts our brains quite often.
But mindless fun tends to, gasp, entertain. Those of us who scoff at Emmerich’s “big, dumb” tactics might have lost that place in our hearts that allowed us to watch in awe and pump our fists at the sight of devastation. Perhaps some of the sometimes realistic imagery still resonates in an all-too-familiar way. Eight years later, crumbling skyscrapers don’t wow, they hurt. Movies certainly help us move on, and thankfully we have guys like Emmerich that push us forward.
You may not necessarily get a heck of a lot smarter if you see “2012” today, but you’ll at least say, “Whoa!” After years of seeing it all from Emmerich and everyone else, that tends to still mean something. Unless it sucks.
Big Gigantic featuring White Noise tonight at the Jupiter Bar and Grill: Electronic music surges its way through Tuscaloosa once again this fall, as these Boulder, Colo., natives continue their “Wide Awake” tour at the Jupiter. Featuring a DJ and live band setup, this should have your name written all over it. If you’re into fresh beats, that is.
Miroirs on Saturday at the Mellow Mushroom: Head out and hear a new local band. This subtly moody rock driven by soft guitar, piano and vocals should gain a nice following once the word gets out on them. Travel downtown tomorrow night for a taste of Tuscaloosa-produced music.
Yes, I watch MTV’s “Real World-Road Rules Challenge: The Ruins.”
I’m past the point of shame. It’s just good TV.
Don’t hate.
More analysis to follow. Hard to think someone other than Evan or Kenny will win the whole thing. Politics are the key.
Joining Andre Agassi this week is Jim Halpert, as seen on NBC’s “The Office.”
I still love the show. It’s good for laughs. But I can’t get behind this guy anymore. Early on, he was perceived as the most likable character on television, and now he’s arguably the most unlikable.
His smug, incredibly holier-than-thou attitude has completely turned me against him, and Pam is really following suit. He always talks down to his co-workers and obviously wishes he weren’t there at all times. He and Pam didn’t even want their colleagues to come to the wedding, encouraging them to send their regrets a few episodes ago.
His best moment, though, came during the wedding episodes when Pam called him while he was out drinking, and he said, “No, let’s talk for a long time” when she asked him if he was trying to get her off of the phone. Hilarious.
Still, I would never, ever want to work for this major douche who used to have potential. That is, if I were a Dunder Mifflin employee. Does anyone else find it strange that Pam’s boss is her husband?
Man.
“South Park” normally makes it a priority to shock, though they’re sort of past that “controversial” stage. Not much of its shock value really holds true because true fans expect the worst.
I’m not sure anyone anticipated what we saw on Wednesday night, at least during the first five minutes. I’ve caught flak for it from a few people, but I maintain that it was one of the show’s finest moments ever, based solely on laughs and surprise.
When the little ginger kid who reads the morning announcements is mistaken for a 42-year-old truck driver by a jealous husband, it just goes to an insane place, thanks primarily to Trey Parker’s unbelievable voice work. “SHYEAH RIGHT!!!”
Some say they crossed a bit of a line, given the recent history of school shootings, and that’s hard to argue. But it made me laugh…hard. I can’t apologize for finding it funny, maybe especially because they revealed it to be a ginger kid.
What I wasn’t crazy about this week: the Casey Miller kid. It was an easy gag that had its best moment at the end of the episode when he finally got to read the announcements. I knew the kid’s voice would be a great broadcasting voice, but I kind of wanted him to be more of a smooth baritone.
What really worked for me: the Smurf thing paid off in a big way. I honestly didn’t know where they were going with it, and it only finally hit me once Cartman was staring at the Avatar poster. I never even thought of James Cameron’s movie as “Dances with Smurfs” until this episode, and that’s brilliant. I do stand by my initial assessment of the blue things. They’re inspired by the Shawn Bradley Monstar in Space Jam.
The Glenn Beck thing was just so-so, but Cartman’s final line was a killer. Again, this was a case of Parker and Matt Stone making fun of someone that’s just too easy for them (like Michael Jackson). They’re better at catching us off guard, nailing a deserving figure who hasn’t gotten the treatment yet.
This mini-season has only delivered greatness sparingly, but it’s been sufficient. I’ve never really not liked an episode outright. There’s always enough material to merit a few genuine laughs. We got a really strong start to season 13, but its latter half has prevented it from reaching the heights of seasons 6-9.
Tomorrow’s column focuses on Roland Emmerich’s newest disaster orgy 2012 and whether or not that’s really what today’s America wants to escape to in a movie theater.
Who is losing more respect right now than Andre Agassi? I knew I was always a Pete Sampras guy, but I don’t need that gap to expand wider and wider by the second.
Isn’t Agassi rich? Didn’t he earn $31 million from playing tennis alone? Forget about endorsements. Unless he’s blown his money and is broke, I don’t see any other reason to admit crystal meth use than to sell copies of his new book.
Some say Agassi should pay back his winnings and titles because he admitted he used banned substances while competing. But that’s way too late. He should just shut up. Why? Because no one cares. The game has passed you by. Better players have come along, and more and more people are saying, “I was glad he left the game.”
The cocky athlete who claimed “Image is everything” (via advertisement) left the game with critical praise and a tennis audience’s universal embrace. But here he is with his startling admission, and for what reason? To sell books! Perhaps it’s therapeutic to get that information off of his chest, but why publicly disseminate it?
His image and legacy has been tarnished in one week.
The worst culprit, other than Agassi, is CBS. Their “60 Minutes” segment was a joke, especially when they spent significant time on Agassi’s “wig” incident. Poor little Agassi began going bald at an early age, and to preserve his young wildman image, he wore a disgusting long blond mullet wig.
So you went bald. You’re a millionaire. Who cares?
The fact that Agassi got teary-eyed during this part of the interview tells me what kind of guy he really is. He’s coming across as one thing: a douchebag.
Douche.
Maybe I’m wrong, but the local music scene here is in a major funk. I don’t doubt that there are plenty of talented musicians in Tuscaloosa, but they’re just not playing with enough frequency for us to consider our scene “thriving.”
There are always good and bad years, but I just don’t think this should be a bad one. What I think most bands lack is the motivation for self promotion. Some bands are better at that than others, and they’re not even necessarily that great musically.
Until someone unseats them, Baak Gwai still holds the title for best band in town. But I honestly wish they’d skip town and pursue something bigger. I just think they’re that good. Good enough to make real noise.
Who’s next? Doesn’t anyone believe in Tuscaloosa as at least a starting ground for budding musicians and bands? I know there are people out there who are trying to make a differences. I just want more than I’m getting. This town deserves it.
It might be a pretty good movie. Most signs point to that it will be (though I’ve never been a fan of Rhys Ifans; I guess it’s funny that he’s a slob and wears tacky clothes). But I just don’t get why this movie is getting a wide release in the United States.
I saw a trailer that said “In theaters everywhere this Friday.” I thought surely not. Great case, sure. Richard Curtis has had some success at American box offices. But if I’m a studio head, I don’t believe in the content of this movie to produce substantial revenue.
I also don’t believe in ANY of the actors’ box office appeal, though I doubt that they’re banking on any of them for that reason. This will rely on buzz and word-of-mouth.
But I don’t see it lasting in Tuscaloosa, Ala., for more than one week. Sorry.
I’d rather see A Serious Man in this town.
Just watched the heavily acclaimed television movie Brian’s Song, which clocks in briskly under 80 minutes.
Most call this one of the best football movies ever, and I’d agree. What kills most football movies is they never know how to shoot the actual football sequences. This movie didn’t even bother! Instead, because it’s about the great Gale Sayers of the Chicago Bears, they just used real footage of one of the greatest running backs ever, most of it from a long distance.
Great move on their part, especially since they probably had a small budget. Honestly, I would have rather watched the real Sayers completely break the ankles of NFL defenders instead of Billy Dee Williams attempt to emulate it. Sayers was a BEAST.
Given the tragic nature of the story, Brian Piccolo’s journey will drag some tears from your ducts, so don’t fight it. Allergy season isn’t an excuse either.
Watched this in preparation for my football section of my sports movies podcast series for FilmNerds.com, which will begin spotlighting sports-focused content. Keep an eye out for this series. Will be covering movies about baseball, football, baketball, boxing and others that make for great drama and comedy on the big screen. Don’t miss out on it.
Chatter is heating up about the pairing of these two future free agents in the upcoming off-season. ESPN.com’s Chris Broussard suggests that Dwyane Wade would stay in Miami with LeBron joining him.
I’ve heard that LeBron will likely narrow his choices down to three destinations: New York, New Jersey and Los Angeles. As for which LA team, that remains to be seen. Logic says he’d opt for the Clippers for more money and a chance to share West coast supremacy with Kobe Bryant. Lately, though, a lot of speculation suggests that a LeBron-Kobe teaming isn’t out of the question.
If LeBron wants to WIN, he can’t go to the Knicks or Nets. He might love NYC and Jay-Z, but those organizations can’t put any pieces around him in the near future.
Would it be fair?
