No, No, No, No, No, NOOOO!!!!

At the sight of the trailer for the upcoming "Morning Glory" Vulture at NY Magazine has declared: "Let's start talking about how Rachel McAdams is like Julia Roberts already." To which I say - as stated previously in the title - no, no, no, no, no, NOOOO!!!!!

Over a year ago I covered the topic of who The Next Julia Roberts could be, should be, etc., and wrote "I think Rachel McAdams could do it but then she's more determined to be an Actress than a Movie Star (at least, I hope and pray she is)." In the midst of an inane rom com like "Wedding Crashers" she made you believe every single thing that happened to her. She single-handedly carried the completely implausible "Red Eye". She out-acted Russell Crowe in "State Of Play". In "The Notebook" she tracked down the tricky, nigh-impossible-to-find middle ground between melo & drama. In "The Lucky Ones" she took her weakly brewed Maxwell House of a character in the screenplay and turned her into a finely ground cup of Italian roast. I'm a little bit in love with her character from "The Family Stone". Ms. McAdams absolutely oozes mad acting skills and that is why statements like the one made by Vulture frighten me.

Please, please, please, Rachel, do not be The Next Julia Roberts. Be The Next Kate Winslet instead. You're the one who can do it, the one worthy of taking the baton. I believe in you. Make that belief come true.

A Digression: Saying Hello To An Old Friend

In the midst of trying to pay off my credit-paid plane ticket to Hawaii (turns out they're expensive - who would've thought?!) I have not purchased a new CD in (the following fact is not made up or embellished) four months. You cannot even begin to comprehend my agony. Imagine an alcoholic chain smoker who decides to quit drinking and cigarettes at the same time. That's kinda how I've been feeling. (Note: I will be buying the new Tift Merritt album on June 1, so help me God, and, thus, then this little CD detox will conclude.)

I've been able to survive mainly because my eight month infatuation with Lady Gaga still has not swayed even in the slightest (if anything, I'm getting more obsessed, which is great for me and bad for my friends & family & everyone who reads this blog) and I can listen to the first five tracks of "The Fame Monster" over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over....but you get the point. Still, a guy like me needs new music every now and then and recently, in a fit of complete desperation, I broke out The Box. The Box, if you don't know (and why would you?), is an ex-cuisinart box which contains well over a hundred CDs of music I used to adore and stopped listening to long ago or albums I purchased on an insane whim, did not like and never listened to again. Perusing the box one Saturday morning over coffee in search of something, anything, to quench my cravings, I happened upon all my old No Doubt albums.

Before continuing I should probably explain that I once loved No Doubt. I mean, I loved No Doubt. A lot. I loved No Doubt so much I once spent $35 on a No Doubt live import. I loved No Doubt so much I would get actively enraged with people who claimed I only liked them because Gwen Stefani was hot (not that she isn't because she most certainly is but people who think her hotness means she can't also be talented infuriate me). I loved No Doubt so much that during my brief tenure at the University of Iowa when my R.A. asked everyone on our floor at a meeting to name our favorite band I proudly said "No Doubt" which resulted in everyone - all of whom I recall giving answers of either Pantera or Snoop Dogg - sending me strange, judgemental looks (in retrospect that was probably a poor idea). I loved No Doubt so much that once when I saw my best friend's first college roommate for the first time in, like, two years he didn't open our conversation with "How have you been?", he opened it with: "So what do you think of the new No Doubt album?"

I came to them after the release of "Tragic Kingdom", between the time when "Just A Girl" broke and when "Spiderwebs" was about to break. And you know what? I loved the holy hell outta those songs. I don't care what anyone thinks. I think they are pop music perfection. And I loved "You Can Do It" (which I still contend should have been the hit "Don't Speak" was) and I loved "The Beacon Street Collection" (the album before "Tragic Kingdom") which despite its grabbag recording nature, was actually more cohesive than its mega-successful follower and I liked bits and pieces of their eventual beginning-of-the-new-decade follow-ups "Return of Saturn" (i.e. The Gavin Rossdale Album, i.e. Gwen Approaches 30 And Has A Massive Freak Out) and "Rock Steady" (i.e. No Doubt goes dancehall, kind of).

No Doubt was once my favorite band. You only have a very few favorite bands during your life. Not bands that were a passing fancy - or an extended passing fancy - or bands that you really liked and/or loved or even bands upon whom your world turned but bands that defined you for periods of your life. That's the critical distinction of a "favorite" band: defintion. The following are the only bands (or artists) I can honestly say have been "my favorite."

-Bruce Springsteen (duh).
-A Tribe Called Quest.
-No Doubt.
-The Arcade Fire.
-Lady Gaga (currently).

That's it. All the bands listed after Bruce Springsteen are bands that I can say for specific periods of time I have liked more than Bruce Springsteen. (For reference, even when I was going through, say, my most intense Lucinda Williams and Wilco obsessions I don't think I could have honestly said I liked either of them more than Bruce Springsteen.) And from the ages of 18-20 No Doubt was my favorite band. They ruled my world. They defined me. I was really happy at that time in my life and I think No Doubt was a reflection of it. Their sound is just so giddy. If Keith Richards' guitar is drenched in bourbon then Tom Dumont's guitar is drenched in chocolate from the Chocolate Factory. It's like being at the most bitchin' Rose Bowl Parade ever grand marshaled by Cyndi Lauper fronting Fishbone. Even during the songs that purport to be sad you can't help but feel happy. No, I didn't identify with most of Gwen's lyrics but sometimes the lyric isn't as crucial as how it's sung and I dig how Gwen sings - it's ecstatic angst. Consider the way she shrieks the word "parents" in "Different People" or her titillating vociferation of "Oooooh" at the end of "Spiderwebs."

It's not that I ever decided they sucked or turned against them, I just stopped listening. I moved on to other things. Heck, I'm a proud owner of both Gwen Stefani solo CDs. "Serious", if you ask me, is seriously good. But I had not busted out my No Doubt albums in years.

But then that Saturday morning it was as if "Tragic Kingdom" was a port in a gale. I put it on and it was like we never broke up. I played "Excuse Me Mr." and even though I hadn't heard it since I was probably 23 I still knew every word and could play every fake guitar chord (I'm not sure how - I think it was muscle memory). It was like I was back on my road trip with Jacob and Kris and I was driving the motor home at 5 in the morning through eastern Colorado keeping myself awake with Jolt and "Tragic Kingdom". It was like I just finished my shift at the movie theater and cued up "Open the Gate" as I turned onto venerable Hickman Road. It was like that 4th of July party where I was playing the version of "Spiderwebs" off a bootleg where it opened with the horn section playing the "Imperial March" and me expounding on its awesomeness as everyone fled the room. But there was one thing it wasn't like.

"Sunday Morning" had been a single (peaking at #35 according to "trustworthy" wikipedia) but I never dug that one so much. I'm not sure why. I really don't remember. Perhaps it just didn't strike me the right way or perhaps I didn't give it a proper chance. Who knows, but what I do know is that it never got played during my make-like-Hugh-Grant-dancing-to-The-Pointer-Sisters-in-"Love-Actually" No Doubt sessions. But listening to it now....it slams me over the head.

This might simply be that no real nostalgia hangs over "Sunday Morning". This sudden re-infatuation with No Doubt makes me very worried I'm having a second early mid-life crisis. But since I never listened to "Sunday Morning" when No Doubt was my favorite band I hear it now and don't have the "boy, this takes me back" context. Maybe that's it. Or maybe it's just that I had to wait 15 years to appreciate it. Or maybe the universe knew I was going to need it now and held it back from me then. I'm leaning toward the third one but of course I am. Whatever the reason, it's been nice. "Sunday Morning" has been racking up the plays on my Ipod like nobody's business. Joyful, joyful, I adore thee.

To borrow a few of Gwen's lyrics: "I thought of you again today/Reminded me how with time I've changed/If you only knew what you gave to me." This is my way of telling them. I missed these guys. They used to make me so happy and it turns out they still do.

Field Of Dreams = State Of Dreams

"Until I heard the voice I'd never done a crazy thing in my whole life." - Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner) Field of Dreams"

He says this in the voiceover that opens the film and it is significant. Ray was born in Brooklyn and went to school in Berkeley. He "marched" and "smoked grass." But he didn't do anything crazy until he heard the voice and he didn't hear the voice until he and his wife Annie (Amy Madigan) had moved to....Iowa.

Once when I informed a co-worker at my Chicago office that I was returning to my home state of Iowa for Christmas he said to me, earnestly: "What are you gonna do there? Party in a cornfield?" It still shocks me - the number of people I have encountered in Chicago, and in Phoenix too, who honestly assume Iowa is one gigantic cornfield, stretching from the Mississippi River to the Missouri River, nothing in between. You tire of having to explain that, no, Iowa has cities. Actual cities! When I go home for Christmas I drink in a real, live bar! In fact, when I'm home I often drink in one of Esquire's Top 100 bars in America! Yes! It's actually in Des Moines! We've got better coffee than anywhere in Chicago and we've got a better concert venue than anywhere in Chicago and, most especially, we've got Alma Burke and all the rest of you don't so suck it. (By the way, Donna Reed bequeathed the Oscar she earned for playing Alma Burke to....that's right....her hometown of Denison, Iowa which makes me so proud and happy I just headbutted the wall.)

My always getting defensive at the mention of Iowa's cornfields then is why I couldn't help but note how nostalgic I felt at the news of the sale of the Dyersville, Iowa farm where "Field of Dreams" was filmed.

"Field of Dreams", based on the novel "Shoeless Joe" by W.P. Kinsella, is, of course, the one where Kevin Costner is the aforementioned Iowa farmer who hears the voice in his cornfield recite "If you build it, he will come" and, in time, determines that "he" might just be Shoeless Joe Jackson (Ray Liotta), a famed member of the Black Sox - the 1919 Chicago White Sox baseball team accused of throwing the World Series. Of course, other reasons for this mysterious plight will arise, including a trip to find a reclusive author (J.D. Salinger in the book, the fictional Terrence Mann in the film) and an ex baseball player named Moonlight Graham who never got his chance to bat in the major leagues.

Oh, there are plenty of people who take this premise to task, like Boston sportswriter Charles Pierce (a man who had he been present at the Passover would have bitched that the bread was unleavened), and I could waste time taking on such worthless criticisms except that the esteemed Roger Ebert already did so in his original review when he wrote "'Field Of Dreams' will not appeal to grinches and grouches and realists." No. No, it won't.

"We walk in the world of safe people and at night we walk into our houses and burn." - Dar Williams, "Iowa"

I have always loved that lyric. Iowans walk in the world of safe (for the most part) people and we're nice and civil and polite and we chat about the weather and road construction or maybe something else, though it's precisely that - something else, not something about ourselves, and then at night we walk into our houses and burn. We burn for our dreams, whatever they may be. "Field of Dreams" is about someone who walks out of his house and burns. He dreams. And he knows having the dream is always more important than how you are perceived for having it.

Not that he acts all crazy. See, only a guy from Iowa could pull this off because only a guy from Iowa would so matter-of-factly go about building a baseball field with cornstalks for an outfield wall because only a guy from Iowa could hear voices and still be reasonable. Stoically passionate, one might say. A guy from New York hears voices and says: "If I build what, who comes? You tell me who comes or I ain't doing s---." A guy from L.A. doesn't even hear the voices when they speak because he's too self absorbed in that conference call while he's stuck in traffic on the Harbor Freeway.

Why do you think the Black Sox wanted to come play in Iowa? Because only the Iowans would leave them to themselves. You threw the World Series, you didn't throw the World Series, whatever. Who are we to judge? How about some lemonade? Shoeless Joe Jackson is swinging a bat in my backyard? Should I set up a turnstile and charge admission? Nah. That's not what they want. That's not polite. They just want to play a little ball in peace. We respect it. We respect other people's wishes. We respect other people's privacy.

"Field of Dreams" is a perfect poem to the Hawkeye State. So it's set primarily on and around a cornfield? So what? It's not like they could shoehorn a baseball diamond into Court Avenue. It's not like they could drop it down on top of Gray's Lake. Nope, it had to be out there, out there in the corn, and it had to be in Iowa. It had to be in Iowa because this story involves a giant dream and believe me when I say only a guy from Iowa would ever dare to dream so big.

Megan Fox Can't Act But We're Still Proud Of Her

So it's offical: Megan Fox will not return for the third installment of "Transformers" (i.e. The Movie Series Cinema Romantico Never Has And Never Will See). Naturally this turn of events is being blamed on the voluptuous Ms. Fox publicly bashing the "Transformers" auteur Michael Bay ("He wants to be like Hitler on his sets, and he is") over the head (which Cinema Romantico soundly supported at the time, and still does). After all, you don't piss off the man who made "Armageddon". I mean, really, Megan, you have no idea how high the guy who made "Armageddon" can fly.

Immediately a rep for Megan Fox indicated that, in fact, it was her decision to leave the series. Vulture at NY Magazine suggested this was Ms. Fox's way of "sav(ing) face." Really? Saving face? Are we sure? SHE'S NOT GOING TO BE IN "TRANSFORMERS 3." Shouldn't this be a happy day for her? Shouldn't she be popping some bubbly and binging on chocolate cake?

Perhaps Ms. Fox is more cagey than we assume. Perhaps this was her intention. Think about it. Did she want out of "Transformers" and simply ensure her own demise by flogging the film's director through the press?

I can't believe I'm saying this but today is the one day Cinema Romantico has more respect for Megan Fox than for Frances McDormand. (Also, she scores massive points for the Marilyn Monroe tattoo, which I didn't know she had.)

Macgruber

The Amish have rumspringa, wherein at the age of 16 children in the Amish community are allowed to explore the world outside the only one they have ever known, often leading to intense flings with alcohol, drugs and sex, and then deciding if they want to continue in the Amish civilization or leave it forevermore. "Macgruber" is a cinematic rumspringa. It is based on Will Forte's Saturday Night Live sketch which repeatedly found him playing the title character, a spoof on the old ABC show MacGyver, whose attempts to deactivate ticking time bombs would always go awry, usually due to his own idiocy. Being that the sketch was on NBC it had to adhere to strict PG-13 standards of comedy and now that it's made its way to the big screen for a whole hour-and-a-half, well, all bets are off. Oops. Excuse me. All f---ing bets are off. The kids - Forte, along with his fellow SNL scribes Jorma Taccone (who also directed) and John Solomon - have been let loose.

Here is my synopsis of "Macgruber": Swear Word. Swear Word. Swear Word. Will Forte's Butt. Will Forte's Butt. Swear Word. Swear Word. Will Forte's Butt. Swear Word. That's all you need to know to decide whether or not this is a movie you want to see. Oh, sure, the movie is about something, superficially, but really it's just a flimsy clothesline for profanity, vulgarity, all that which cannot be shown on network television.

The clothesline: an egomaniacal, ponytailed villain named Deiter von Cunth (Val Kilmer), whose name stops being funny after the initial 27 times it is said aloud in the first 15 minutes, has stolen a nuclear warhead. Thus, Colonel Faith (Powers Boothe) and Lt. Piper (Ryan Phillippe) attempt to enlist the now-retired (and supposedly dead) Macgruber to assemble a team and go after von Cunth, his longtime nemesis. At first, Macgruber resists, then he relents, then he assembles a team, after the first team has departed for reasons I will not reveal, comprised of Lt. Piper and Vicki St. Elmo (Kristen Wiig), who agrees to give up her musical dreams to help her old friend.

Is "Macgruber" funny? Well, sometimes. The opening credits are laugh-out-loud (if also a place for our first couple f-bombs). The movie score is actually quite well done and deserving of an Oscar nod. Honestly. It's a spot-on spoof of the sorts of scores we always get in these movies - over-embellished and providing emotional cues for everything. Do not be surprised to learn Matthew Compton has been hired to compose the next Michael Bay movie. Wiig is always good for a few understated moments of hilarity. And while Phillippe merely plays the straight man I did like how he kept calling Macgruber out on his obvious clueslessness. "That's the plan? We're just gonna wing it?" "There's a big difference between winging it and seeing what happens."

One peculiarity regarding "Macgruber" is how determined the "screenplay" seems to make him unlikeable. Frank Drebin of "The Naked Gun" movies was a buffoon, sure, but he was always acting out of the goodness of his heart, always falling on the proper side of right and wrong. Macgruber, though, consistently makes decisions that are, frankly, deplorable. In fact, when von Cunth's motivation for disliking Macgruber is revealed you find yourself sympathizing with von Cunth. That can't be right.

Which brings me to Val Kilmer. He is the reason I bought a ticket. Truly. I was excited to see what he would do with this role. If you want to see him chewing scenery, well, be more prepared for him elegantly dining on scenery and then politely wiping the corners of his mouth. It's rather low key. Lest we forget, Val is a madman, a maverick, and it's as if he knew people expected him to dial it up and, thus, he dialed it down, just to mess with them. It's not as if he's helped with his lines but I'll admit I was hoping for a little more Crazy Eyes Val.

So unless you want a monsoon of bad language, R-rated usage of celery stalks and a subdued Future Governor Of New Mexico, I feel safe saying "Macgruber" is not worth the ticket.

Iron Man 2

I have an admittedly radical idea for the filmmakers of "Iron Man 2" when they get around to making the inevitable third installment. Several years ago my friend Brad introduced me to a movie titled "The Specials" wherein a team of superheroes - giving the movie its title - consisting of Rob Lowe, Thomas Haden Church, Judy Greer, amongst others, is chronicled without ever showing the superheroes in action. Instead it is more a backstage drama as they deal with day to day matters, personal dramas, those sorts of things, and while the movie itself underwhelmed me I always found the premise immensely intriguing. And "Iron Man 3" needs to hijack that premise. I might be so bold as to proclaim "Iron Man 2" as my favorite superhero movie of all time if those pesky action sequences didn't keep getting in the way.

One person can only respond to a movie how he or she responds to it and, well, I'm just done with two guys in metal suits hitting each other and missiles flying all over the place and CGI explosions and more CGI explosions and all the rest. (My favorite action sequence in the whole film is when one character dispatches with maybe 12 bad guys in the time it takes Jon Favreau's bodyguard, employing only old school methods, to dispatch one. It's like a commentary on where action movies started and where they have gone.) Why waste our time with it when we have so many actors and actresses who are so alive in the roles, so clearly having a good time, so happy to come into work? It's wonderful line reading after wonderful line reading! Use it to your advantage! Robert Downey Jr., against all the odds, has found the role of a lifetime in Tony Stark, the egotistical, brilliant, billionaire "textbook narcissist", who fits into that Iron Man suit, and the movie is always - always - more interesting when we can see his face.

There is a scene here where Tony Stark has coffee with Samuel L. Jackson's Nick Fury, who runs a special superhero agency (or something) of his own, at a donut shop, the shop's logo visible in reverse in the window. Stark is wearing his Iron Man suit, sans helmet, which is propped next to his styrofoam coffee cup, and Fury is adorned in his trademark black trenchcoat and eyepatch, but - while they are discussing important matters - essentially they are just two dudes having a cup of coffee. I cannot describe how happy this made me. Yes, yes, you could argue "Mystery Men" played the same angle, but not really because "Mystery Men" was an obvious comedy with a heightened setting. The scene in "Iron Man 2" is played entirely straight, making it twenty times better and funnier. I want more of it! I want the whole movie to be like it!

But I know what drives Hollywood and it's summer movies. And a summer movie "Iron Man 2" is, thus it has a particular quotient to fill. As the movie opens (and the first 10, 15 minutes are just an absolute delight) Stark is summoned to Capital Hill to testify before Senator (wait for it) Stern (Garry Shandling) in regards to his very valuable Iron Man suit which the government - represented in part by Stark's longtime buddy Colonel James Rhodes (Don Cheadle)- wants for its own purposes, which is to say they want a weapons expert charmingly named Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell) to create an entire army of powerful Iron Men. Meanwhile our obligatory villain, Ivan Vanko (Mickey Rourke, taking laconically fearsome to dizzying new heights while still finding time to stay true to his roots with some Method toothpick chewing), plots revenge against Stark by putting together his own Iron Man-esque suit, complete with electronic tentacles (or something). Meanwhile back at the ranch Stark's trusted, red-headed sidekick Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) is now CEO of the company, meaning that she, and Tony, must deal with a buxom new assistant named Natalie Rushman (Scarlett Johansson, underplaying amidst the craziness around her), who might just have an agenda all her own. Meanwhile (and here the film gets its gravity) Tony Stark is slowly dying as the "palladium core" (or something) that fits into his chest is poisoning him - or, as the movie says, that which keeps him alive, is killing him. He must find a replacement for the palladium.

But all of that - and, good God, that's a lot - should merely be a trifle which allows our impressive stable of actors and actresses to cut loose and exchange witty repartee. You've got the romantic triangle in place with Tony, Pepper and Natalie, so let's roll with it, what do ya say?! Tony Stark can save the world without having to blow anything up, right? Andrew Sarris has said a screwball comedy is a "sex comedy without the sex" so let's turn "Iron Man 3" into the very first Screwball Action Movie - an action movie without the action. Please, please, pretty please?

In fact, it doesn't even have to be part of the "Iron Man" series. You don't have to call it "Iron Man 3" since we will never see Robert Downey Jr. with the Iron Man helmet on his head. We'll call it "Tony Stark"! It will be it's own thing, a one-off, an experiment! This will be the chance for something real and fun and inspiring in this god-forsaken business! So....

Who's coming with me? Who's coming with me?

Boy, This Movie Would Be Better With A Drink

My astute friend Dave passed along to me an article from the esteemed New York Times in which Wendell Jamieson opined on the virtues of pairing the proper drink with a DVD. A sample:

"There (Robert Mitchum) was early in one of my all-time favorite films, 'Out of the Past,' sipping bourbon in a little bar in Acapulco (or a Hollywood version thereof), waiting for the girl, thinking about how the day went away like a pack of cigarettes you smoked. But, baby, I didn’t care. I was thinking, man, that bourbon looks good.

So I paused Mitchum midsentence, went over to the liquor cabinet and then the freezer, and poured myself a Knob Creek on the rocks. And then another.

By the end of the film, whose labyrinthine, double-upon-triple-cross plot had baffled me with each previous viewing, I was even more hopelessly lost than usual. But so what?"

I could take this moment to re-advise Hollywood needs to get on the ball and put into production ASAP an "Out of the Past" remake with my official Cinematic Crush Sienna Miller in the Jane Greer role but that just seems like overkill. (Also, Hollywood isn't that smart. They would prefer to make the true story about the mythical Robin Hood. But I digress.) Instead I feel it necessary to follow Mr. Jamieson's lead. When it comes to movies and drinks, well, to quote "The Big Lebowski's" Karl Hungus: I am an expert.

"Casablanca." Paired with champagne. I mean, like, duh.

"Miami Vice." Paired with a mojito. I mean, like, double duh. (Also, during the film at least five times you have to say, in a Colin Farrell-esque gritty American accent, "I'm a fiend for mojitos.")

"Elizabehtown." To truly accentuate the southern flavor of this primarily Kentucky-based opus one might be quick to jump the gun and proclaim a mint julep as a suitable companion. Maybe it's because the mint julep takes so much effort or maybe it's because I'm off mint juleps after attending a Kentucky Derby party on the side of a Hawaiian volcano and sampling a mint julep I watched a gentleman concoct right in front of me in which he made like John C. Reilly in "Boogie Nights" pouring the bourbon - "Two-four-hmmmmm-whatever" - before adding a sprinkling of bottled water to the mix and then fixing me a glass which caused me to become intoxicated in 3.4 seconds. No, all you really need is a Maker's Mark (which presents itself on a tee shirt Kirsten Dunst wears in the film) neat. Specifically, neat, not the rocks, because "Elizabethtown" permeates warmth and drinking this bluegrass state bourbon sans ice will re-create that feeling in your stomach.

"Serendipity." A Jean Harlow. This "classic" romantic comedy is a bit too melliflouous for a gin/vodka martini so a rum martini will do just fine. It will also happily prevent you from wondering aloud where the hell John Cusack got that marker from in the middle of Central Park.

"Gone Baby Gone." The cheapest tall boy at the corner store.

"Lost In Translation." Brandy & ginger ale. Whimsical yet poignant this is the perfect cocktail to nurse on those secluded evenings when you most need this film. (Note: If no brandy is in the house a 4-pack of the Sofia mini blanc de blanc will do just fine.)

"The Life Aquatic." Campari on the rocks. I don't care if you don't like it. Drink it!!!

"His Girl Friday." A Manhattan. Preferably, two to three Manhattans, because the only way to ensure your mind reaches the same state as the dizzying, Olympic gymnastic-like conversations between Cary & Rosalind is to get soused via rye whiskey.

"To Have and Have Not." The Hemingway. When viewing this stone cold Bogie/Bacall classic what better to highlight the incomparable byplay between its two stars than with the drink named for the author who wrote the story upon which it was based?

"Last of the Mohicans." Over the years I have learned anything can pair with Michael Mann's masterpiece. Sierra Nevada, canned Busch Light, 18 year Glenfiddich, Bartles & Jaymes Raspberry Pomegranate, even SoCo and A&W root beer for times when you have nothing else readily available. Insert your favorite here. It all works.

So....what do you drink with your favorite films?

Ron Swanson: The One Reason You Should Be Watching TV

During high school I typically spent my Sunday mornings at youth group at the Lutheran Church I attended. We were a wacky mix of good-hearted ragamuffins who believed in the trinity of the Holy Spirit, sure, and yada and yada but were far more concerned with debating whether or not the MTV Unplugged version of "Layla" was better than the Derek and the Dominoes version. (Note: It wasn't.) One Sunday during my senior year, for reasons I forget, I did not attend and it just so happened this was the Sunday a member of our posse would be elected to the Church Council as the so-called "Youth Representative". No wanted this post, of course, and because of my absence I was nominated and elected. And needless to say I was not pleased. My predecessor had doubled as the student body president. I doubled as....uh....the villain in the high school play. And a kid who knew all the words to A Tribe Called Quest's "I Left My Wallet In El Segundo." What did I know - or, better yet, care - about the building and grounds committee? I would study for tests while others debated the merits of a new communion process. I would second motions to which I had not paid even the slightest bit of attention just so we could hurry up and get the hell outta there. I hated every single second of my servitude as "Youth Representative". Seriously, if ol' Jesus Himself had turned up at one of these meetings he would've looked at me after about twelve seconds and said, "Hey, Nick, let's fly this chicken coop and go watch selected scenes of 'Last of the Mohicans.'"

I mention all this because I can see that same sort of excessive apathy present in he who heads up (fictional) Pawnee, Indiana's Parks and Recreation department which gives the title to NBC's Thursday Night (7:30 PM CST, season finale tonight) sitcom. This would be Ron Swanson, portrayed by Nick Offerman in fluidly deadpan fashion with a voice that is riotous in its monotone lethargy, who in the show's Pilot declared: "I don’t want this parks department to build any parks because I don’t believe in government." In a later episode he reveals that when he becomes city supervisor - which he expects to be inevitable - his first order of business will be, simply, "To eliminate the parks department." Naturally this puts him at odds with Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler), unrelentingly earnest and upbeat, the deputy director of the department and the show's main character, though not as much as one would think since exhibiting too much initiative on the job would run counter to Ron Swanson's beliefs.

"I like saying no. It lowers their enthusiasm." - Ron Swanson

Consider the Pilot episode which reveals Swanson to be a big fan of Coach Bobby Knight, the same man who once expressed disappointment that his team's basketball season was continuing upon winning a tournament game, saying "I guess I won't be fishing now." This is no different from Swanson telling his just-as-apathetic assistant April Ludgate (a wonderous Aubrey Plaza, who is so dry she makes Death Valley seem like Oceans Of Fun), whom he describes as "the moat that (keeps) the citizen barbarians away from Swanson castle," he is out of the office when he isn't out of the office simply so he won't have to deal with anyone and when someone asks April if he can see him she states, of course, that he's out of the office even though he is standing, defiantly, coffee mug in hand, in full view in his office of the person asking to see him. All things considered, Ron Swanson would rather be fishing.

So too does his posture seem indicative of his attitude. Rigid, firm, unyielding, he spends an entire episode sitting completely still at his desk because of his "neglected hernia" - brought on by a mistaken sneeze - and, naturally, he accomplishes as much as he does any other day, which is to say he accomplishes nothing.

"After I got home, I drank six more glasses of whiskey and then I finished crafting this mall harp, using a bandsaw, a spokeshave and an oscillating spindle sander." - Ron Swanson

But don't presume his passivity leaves him humorless. Quite the contrary, in fact, as Ron Swanson brings his own definitive set of quirks to the buffet - that is, breakfast buffets which, as it happens, Ron Swanson loves more than strippers. Breakfast meats, in particular. On a picnic outing spearheaded by Leslie of the current and former Parks and Recreation Department directors she confides to Ron she brought him a trail snack in the form of bacon which Ron confides he had already sniffed out and eaten before declaring "And now it's gone and I hate everything!" and then running away like a petulant child. (Note: This is the funniest thing that has happened on television thus far in 2010.)

He moonlights as a skilled woodworker, master chair caner and, most importantly, possesses an alter ego - unbeknownst to most of his co-workers - in the form of jazz saxophonist Duke Silver ("It's been a pleasure making sonic love to you"). It is here that the show is at its most inspired. He may be a libertarian, he may keep keep a sawed off shotgun in his desk, he may order the death of a puppy, but Duke Silver suggests - as Jonah Weiner of Slate has noted - that Ron Swanson is also a sensualist meaning that despite his presence on a sitcom he is a character of the utmost complexity.

Leslie Knope: "Why would anyone eat anything besides breakfast food?"
Ron Swanson: "People are idiots, Leslie."

This complexity can also be glimpsed in his relationship with Leslie. They may possess opposing political views and their work ethics may be such polar opposites that when Ron is tasked to handle Leslie's job for but a single day he finds himself confused, frightened and overwhelmed ("There's a bunch of messages waiting for you about a bunch of things I don't understand") but that does not mean he cannot show her respect and treat her fairly. Consider the episode in which Leslie receives a gift basket from a local construction company from which she "brazenly" takes a bottle of wine later that evening after crashing the "boys club" beer drinking party of a few city planners. Weighed down by the guilt, Leslie promptly apologizes the following morning to every Pawnee Government official for her actions which leads to an ethics board to call for a displicinary hearing with Leslie. Ron's reaction is twofold. First, he lambasts Leslie for her chivalrous attitude and need to do good. Second, he lambasts the ethics board for going after Leslie, shuts down the hearing and angrily declares "Leslie has never broken a rule in her life, to the point that it's annoying." Heroism, indeed - agitated heroism.

Or consider Leslie's brief courtship with a lawyer named Justin, whose too-cool-for school vibe impresses everyone in and around the office until Leslie begins to worry about the direction of their relationship at which point we realize Ron is the only one able to not simply see Justin for Justin but to see whether or not Justin compliments Leslie leading him to tell her that Justin is "selfish" and not the right fit, a sentiment with which Leslie, thankfully, agrees.

In a recent episode we hear for the first time of the so-called Swanson Code. Ostensibly "The Swanson Code" refers to Ron's own lax variation on the zoning codes necessary for him to expand his home woodshop (example: oil covered rags hanging over a fire pit) but in reality The Swanson Code is a statement on Ron's defiant nature, which is to say he is defiantly himself. Human beings are typically mystifying mixes of contradictions (i.e. Me). Ron Swanson is no different. But the contradictions are never cases of lazy writing. Consider the Cosmo Kramer of "Seinfeld" who (as much as I love him) was always at the service of the writers, which was how he could go over the show's history from being someone who only took cold showers to someone who spent days on end in a hot shower to someone who only took baths to someone who openly loathed baths. Ron Swanson's contradictions, on the other hand, are his very essence, the fabric of his being.

I don't know that he and I would get along very well in a social situation but that doesn't mean I wouldn't respect him. If there is one thing Ron Swanson isn't it's this: fake. He may be on TV, but he's completely real.

Leap Year

(Note: After a couple unkind reviews from my colleagues I had no intention of seeing this movie except, in a tragic turn of events, it happened to be my in-flight film returning to the mainland and so I thought, hey, why not? At least I'll get a good blog entry out of it.)

One can only imagine the pitch of screenwriters Deborah Kaplan and Harry Elfont to executive producer Su Armstrong (there were, in fact, 12 producers on this film so we'll just use Su to condense things) went something like this:

Kaplan: "So there's this career oriented woman, Anna, who's had this boyfriend, Jeremy, for four years. And she's really excited because she thinks Jeremy is going to propose to her. Except then he doesn't!"
Elfont: "Twist!"
Kaplan: "And so Anna is, like, super depressed, right? Except then her dad - who could probably be played by some character actor who hasn't got much going on right now-"
Armstrong: "John Lithgow?"
Kaplan: "Perfect! He tells her that once every four years on February 29th it is accepted in Ireland for - get this - a woman to propose to a man!"
Elfont: "Twist!"
Kaplan: "So Anna decides she will propose to Jeremy!"
Armstrong: "Wait. How do we get them to Ireland."
Kaplan: "Uh...."
Elfont: "Jeremy get sents to Dublin for, heck, I don't know....a medical conference. We'll make him a doctor."
Armstrong: "Okay. Keep going."
Kaplan: "So Anna flies to Dublin. Except she doesn't make it to Dublin because of weather and her flight gets diverted to Cardiff."
Elfont: "Twist!"
Kaplan: "So Anna tries to take a boat but the weather is too bad and so the boat can only get her as far as a small town in Ireland called Dingle. So then she goes to this pub-"
Elfont: "Populated by colorful, wacky locals."
Kaplan: "-to hire a taxi to take her to Dublin. And it turns out the bartender at the pub - his name's Declan - doubles as the taxi driver! So he and Anna strike out for Dublin."
Elfont: "But not after Anna has accidentally shorted out the power to the entire town! So that right away they're at each other's throats!"
Kaplan: "So the trip is filled with hijinks, right? For instance, the road is blocked by cows and so Anna tries to shoo the cows off the road-"
Elfont: "And steps in cow poop! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!"
Kaplan: "-and then the car rolls off the road and into the lake so they have to walk-"
Elfont: "And Anna only has high heels."
Kaplan: "-and Anna buys a train ticket except the train won't arrive for two hours so Declan convinces her to take a hike up to this nearby castle which causes them to miss the train."
Elfont: "Twist!"
Kaplan: "And so they stay at this bed and breakfast where to please the owners they have to masquerade as a married couple-"
Elfont: "Drawing them closer."
Kaplan: "-and then the next day a hailstorm sends them scurrying to a nearby church where a wedding is taking place and then at the outdoor reception-"
Armstrong: "Hold it. Outdoor reception? Wasn't it just hailing?"
Elfont: "It was a freak hailstorm."
Kaplan: "Exactly. A freak hailstorm. And at the outdoor reception Declan reveals that he was once engaged but that his fiance ran off with his - get this - best friend."
Elfont: "Twist!"
Kaplan: "And then they get to Dublin by bus and meet Jeremy and Jeremy proposes and Anna says yes and Declan, disappointed, slinks off and then we're back in America and we learn Jeremy's really proposed just because the manager of the condo he was trying to buy called him out for not having proposed-"
Elfont: "Twist!"
Kaplan: "-and this devastates Anna and so she returns to Dingle and tells Declan she left Jeremy and she wants to them to get together but 'not make plans' and then Declan leaves the room and Anna, thinking she's spurned, runs away."
Armstrong: "Hold it a second. Declan just leaves the room? He doesn't say anything?"
Kaplan: "No."
Armstrong: "Why doesn't he say anything?"
Elfont: "Because....we need to get Anna and Declan to a spectacular spot along the Irish coast!"
Kaplan: "Exactly! And once they're there then Declan proposes to Anna!"
Elfont: "And then you have a title card that says 'The End!'"
Armstrong: "Hmmmmm....I don't know. Haven't I seen this movie before? Like, a lot of times before?"
Kaplan: "Did we mention we see Amy Adams as Anna?"
Armstrong: "Deb, Harry, I think you just sold your script."

Couples Retreat

There are many bad movies, of course, but there are varying categories of bad. There is Aggressive Bad, as in M. Night Shyamalan's "The Happening" - suffering not merely from poor concepts and wooden acting but from direction so proletarian it would have flunked Mr. Shyamalan out of the Colorado School Of Mines Film School - which, whether you want it to or not, forces you to stick your nose into the dung of its badness. There is So Bad It's Good, as in Ed Wood's noted camp classic "Plan 9 From Outer Space". There is Michael Bay Bad (self explanatory). And then there is Boring Bad, which brings me to last year's "Couples Retreat".

"Couples Retreat" isn't Aggressive Bad because during the course of watching it you never really feel overwhelmed by its awfulness. It isn't So Bad It's Good because it's incredibly boring and not funny, neither when it's trying to be funny nor when it's trying to be funny and failing nor when it's not trying to be funny and failing. It isn't Michael Bay Bad because nothing blows up. "Couples Retreat" is just....bad. When it ended I literally said aloud to myself, "God, that was bad." Then I thought about it and re-iterated, aloud, "Yeah. That was really, really bad." As it unfolds you will feel your eyes glaze over as you turn into a movie-watching zombie, bored stiff.

Wait, I should probably address its plot before going any further. Okay....so these four couples go on a retreat. Once they have arrived at their photogenic destination-

Reader: "Hold on! What couples?!"
Me: "Ugh. Do I have to? Can't you just look it up on IMDB?"
Reader: "Do you purport to be a movie reviewer or not?"
Me: "Fine."

Our four couples: Dave (Vince Vaughn) and Ronnie (Malin Akerman) are a couple at the stage where home renovations and their two rambunctious sons rule their lives. Joey (Jon Favreau) and Lucy (Kristin Davis) are set to get a divorce they are telling no one about as soon as their oldest daughter heads off to college. Shane (Faizon Love) has been dumped by his wife and now has taken up with 20 year old Trudi (Kali Hawk). Jason (Jason Bateman) and Cynthia (Kristen Bell) make public their plans to get a divorce but are hoping to stave off this course of action by taking a (ahem) couples retreat to a mystical island paradise called Eden West. The only problem - it is too expensive for them to go solo so they attempt to enlist the other trio because the rate would be half off. We learn what type of couple Jason and Cynthia are when they make this entire pitch to their friends via power point.

The problems here become obvious almost immediately, and not I'm talking about one of Vince Vaughn's sons peeing in a fake toilet at a home renovation store. (Apparently Vince's humor is getting more lowbrow with each passing movie. In "Four Christmases" comedy was "generated" by babies projectile vomiting. Now it's peeing in public. What's next? Dogs humping something?) After Jason and Cynthia have made their pitch we have to endure a passage where Dave and Ronnie have turned them down and so Jason shows up at their house in the middle of the night in an apparent attempt to break in (or something) and try to re-convince them and....what are they doing? Just get us to the damn island already! "Couples Retreat" is far too long for a wacky comedy.

Or is it a wacky comedy? I don't think it quite knows. The script here is by Vaughn and Favreau (and by Dana Fox, whose previous credits include - gulp - "What Happens In Vegas" and "The Wedding Date") and has several overlong passages that appear to want to address relationship dilemmas in a real way which exist only because the script could not determine how to dramatize these events, making them not only hollow but also rather boring. Not to mention everyone's issues get resolved in a single night at the singles resort across the way amidst body shots and roofies. If you want to make a serious comment on couples, well, sorry, but this can't be your final act.

Meanwhile the wacky quotient is supposedly handled by a gallery of supporting characters like Jean Reno slumming it as a new age couple skill building expert and the ever dependable John Michael Higgins as a therapist and the requisite guy (Carlos Ponce) in a speedo. (Memo To Vaughn, Favreau & Fox: Speedos Do Not Automatically Equal C-O-M-E-D-Y. You have to give the character something to do. Remember in "A Fish Called Wanda" when John Cleese is strutting around naked in the home that isn't his? Remember how the people whose home it really is enter to find him? Cleese's script knew that him just being naked wasn't funny all on its own. First, it had him get indignant and then have to recant.)

What is happening to Vince Vaughn? I just don't get it. I have mentioned before how Vaughn himself has commented that he wasn't responding to romantic comedy scripts coming his way and so he set out to start making his own which he has done, progressively getting worse with each one. (Vaughn acted as producer on "Couples Retreat".) Will someone stage an intervention on his behalf? Please? IMDB indicates his next film is set to be "Cheaters", directed by Ron Howard and written by a guy named Allan Loeb who - and stay with me here - is apparently writing a remake of the fantastic French comedy "The Valet". That film was everything "Couples Retreat" isn't. It refuses to insult the intelligence of its characters, mixes just the right amount of poignancy with hijinks and, rest assured, involves no children peeing in public places. I have no doubt the Americans will completely f--- it up. Especially if Vaughn, Favreau and Fox are hired for rewrites.

Also, I'd like to amend a previously made statement - "Couples Retreat" was the worst movie of 2009.

A (Brief) Digression: My Hero & My Heroine

"Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Relish Lady Gaga and Bruce Springsteen sharing a stage." - Ashley Smith

Okay, you got me. I made up the last sentence. Nevertheless....I apologize but I had to post this photo. I had to. You know I didn't have a choice. I mean, just look at it. What can I possibly say? All I know is that it makes my heart Riverdance with happiness. (This is what caused it and my only complaint would be that Sting & Elton & the others keep getting in the way.) Also, it replaced the worn, yellowed photo of The Arcade Fire on my refrigerator after a monumental three year, two apartment run. (Yes, yes, I'm insane. I know. And I don't care.)

My Great Movies: The Adventures of Robin Hood

"In these cynical days when swashbucklers cannot be presented without an ironic subtext, this great 1938 film exists in an eternal summer of bravery and romance. We require no Freudian subtext, no revisionist analysis." - Roger Ebert

Maybe it's because I have more hopelessness than even the most hopeless of hopeless romantics. Maybe it's because I'm too damn earnest. Maybe it's because CGI does absolutely nothing for me. Maybe it's because I was raised in a house with a framed black and white photo of Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland (see: directly above) displayed prominently. Maybe it's because of all these reasons and more that I still think "The Adventures of Robin Hood", filmed in Technicolor so sumptuous it should be served in a tumbler, stands as the definitive silver screen story of Sherwood Forest's most infamous outlaw, and one of the finest action/adventure films of all time.

No doubt it is of a much different era, an era when heroes needed no existential motivation and spent no time in despair, even in the most despairing moments, because, well, heck, they were the heroes. The Sherwood Forest of co-directors Michael Curtiz and William Keighley's creation is colorful, alive, a true reflection of its take on Robin of Locksley (Flynn) and his band of merry men, whimsy replacing torment, the lot of them so loyal to Richard the Lionheart that when they abscond with the treasure of Prince John's (Claude Rains) tax money they never think to take any for themselves.

Consider the sequence in which Robin and Little John (Alan Hale) do battle with sticks atop the log stretched across the winding creek. Robin bears no ill will, specifically stating he merely wants to see what Little John is "made of" and as the two joust Will Scarlett (Patric Knowles) sits off to the side and strums his lute. When the tete-a-tete has finished - Robin getting dunked in the water - the trio sits and laughs. Loudly. There is a plethora of laughter in this movie, deep, full-bore guffaws. Probably eighty percent of Robin's proclamations are met by the merry men's merriment. (Why can't extras in this day and age be allowed this sort of laughter to highlight the main characters?) Later, when Maid Marian (de Havilland) has been made the outlaws' captive - a captive to whom no harm is ever intended - she watches Robin bite boorishly into a cinematic turkey leg. He catches her look and she looks away, feigning disdain. But then she mimics his boorish bite and, seeing it, Robin roars with laughter so over-the-top that I roared with laughter. Modern day viewers might view this scene as outdated. Ah, and so it is, which is precisely why I cherish it so.

The now oft-told story is that the title character was set to be played by one James Cagney until Cagney - clearly at the insistence of the movie gods - stormed off the set and was quickly replaced by the rising Tasmanian star Flynn. He embodies the role to such an immense degree I dare say he has become how we perceive Robin Hood. Whatever the basis for this figure may have been - and that is up for debate - Errol Flynn re-wrote the rules so that they became hard and fast, so that all actors who followed in his footsteps would also loom in his shadow. Actors of the here and now simply could not - in any capacity - get away with this performance. Cary Elwes gets away with hauling a deer into Prince John's heavily guarded castle in Mel Brooks' 1993 "Men In Tights" specifically because it's a spoof. Flynn gets away with it in a dramatic film because he can convince us of it. To kill a deer is death - to enter that castle is death - but he projects such light-heartedness as he challenges Prince John and his cunning lackey Sir Guy of Gisbourne (Basil Rathbone), gladly dining across from them, openly telling them he will lead a revolt and standing up to Maid Marian's initial disdain.

Marian: "You speak treason."
Robin: "Fluently."

The romance. Oh, the romance. Sweet, simple, true. So true. My mom is a noted amateur Errol Flynn historian and my favorite story she ever told me in relation to the repeated pairing of Flynn & de Havilland (read about the de Havilland Decision at your leisure - that woman is/was stone cold cool, and she is why an actress like Kate Winslet, years later, could get to make "Hideous Kinky" if for no other reason than she wanted to) was how he would constantly and purposely mess up the makeout scenes simply so he could make out with her again. (Though they never actually hooked up in real life.) Look at the scene where he has ascended her balcony Romeo-style (which, admittedly, in the midst of a bold, beautiful long take has an awkward cut). That's not just chemistry, man, that's legitimate infatuation.

Robin: "Will you come with me?"
Marian: "To Sherwood?"
Robin: "I've nothing to offer you but a life of hardship and danger. But we'd be together."

Swoon.... But Marian remains at the castle because she knows she is the only one present who can keep an eye on vile Prince John and report his dastardly doings to those revolting against him. And that's what struck me most on my viewing of the film in preparation for this post - the fact that de Havilland's Maid Marian - despite being in a movie made all of eighteen years after women earned the right to vote - was no damsel in distress. It is she who thinks up the plan to rescue Robin when he is scheduled to be hanged after his capture at the redoubted archery tournament. She does not merely fall in love with Robin Hood because, you know, she's Maid Marian and he's Robin Hood, she is allowed to progress from scene to scene, outright dislike to cautious suspicion to hesitant flirtation to flickers of love to let's get married.

And when she figures out what Prince John and his cohorts are up to she does not stand around and wait for others to save the day. Nuh uh, she gets involved, she fights back, and she has a totally awesome scene that I realized was the precedent for Madeline Stowe's Cora Munro telling off her own father in my favorite movie ever fifty-four years later wherein Prince John discovers her treasonous aid of his prime adversary.

Prince John: "You'll be sorry you interfered."
Marian: "Sorry? I'd do it again if you killed me for it."

In short, this Maid Marian, the only Maid Marian that will ever matter, was kind of a bad ass.

That said, stories of this sort still require the hero to save the heroine at the end and so it will come to pass. With Prince John set to swear himself in as King with reports of his brother Richard out and about in the countryside and with Maid Marian locked up in the dungeon and waiting death when the swearing-in is done Robin, the merry men, Richard, and his knights will finagle their way into the castle for a large-scale stunt-laden showdown that purports to be between all the Normans and all the Saxons but really is just an imaginative excuse for Robin Hood and his arch nemesis Sir Guy of Gisbourne to face off with swords drawn and see what's what, who's who and exchange witty repartee ("Do you know any prayers?" - "I'll say one for you.") in the midst of thrusts and parries and climaxing with, first, one of the finest shots in the history of cinema as momentarily the dueling duo is seen only by shadow and, second, the conclusion atop the spiral staircase which only reinforces the notion that every swordfight (including Olympic fencing matches) should conclude atop a spiral staircase.

The latest incarnation of the story hits the big screen today. Director Ridley Scott has apparently said it will be the most historically accurate version yet. Russell Crowe, taking on the title role, has advised there will be no tights in the film since "They weren’t invented until quite a few hundred years after when the story takes place." Well, that's nice. Maybe that's what people want. Maybe it will be huge. If it is, good for them. But I won't be seeing it.

Pardon me very much but I'd prefer to hold on to the romantic myth.

Birthday Girl

So after a sun soaked afternoon on a Hawaiian beach followed by The Greatest Meal On Earth (i.e. blue cheese burger, fries, pale ale) there is, of course, only one way to top it all off - with a film starring Nicole Kidman as a Russian mail order bride. Or is that just me? Probably. The point here, though, is that I was in a fabulous mood when I watched "Birthday Girl" (2001) and, thus, take my review with a grain of salt.

The film opens with John (Ben Chaplin), a neat, nerdy bank clerk in England, creating a video greeting giving away his neat, nerdy persona that he will ship off to a service in Russia which, in turn, ships him a dutiful bride in the form of Nadia (Kidman) who, contrary to poor John's desires, smokes and can't speak English. Blimey. This upsets him. Strangely, it still seems to upset him even after Nadia appears in his bedroom in the middle of the night for reasons less than family friendly. It won't take too long, however, for John to warm to her presence and make a true effort to find a place for her in his admittedly otherwise empty world. Until, as they must, a cousin and his friend show up unannounced for Nadia's birthday.

The audience will glean trouble straight away and not simply because this is what the story calls for at such a juncture. No, it will be sensed because the cousin's friend is played by that smarmiest, snakiest of French actors, Vincent Cassel, and Vincent Cassel is always a bad guy. Sure enough, John will soon be up to his geeky haircut in trouble, not the least of which is thieving money from the very bank in which he works (what, you thought he was given a key to the vault at the start of the film for no reason at all?) which sends him on the lam, though the lam will take him on an adventure he never would have expected.

The mechanics of "Birthday Girl" are routine, sure, but what affected me in this film by the Brothers Butterworth (Jez, Tom & Steve) was what drove John to do the things he does - namely, he's a nice guy. "Birthday Girl" might be the first Nice Guy Thriller. You can call John a sap, a lamebrain, a daft pawn, but he eventually figures out what is going on and then proceeds to act based on the kindness of his foolish heart. Most men would dump Nadia along the side of the road once they determined her motives but not a guy as nice as John. Everything he does - however outlandish - is completely believable when taken within that context.

My only complaint with this device would be the end when John, for the first time all movie, steps up to the plate and acts like a not-so-nice guy. I wanted him to the be the first hero in movie history to never save his own bacon, to not do anything to deserve the title "Movie Hero". Alas. In spite of that misstep, "Birthday Girl" shows that nice guys don't always finish last because sometimes they get Nicole Kidman with a Russian accent.

7 Cinema Romantico Movie Facts

The infinitely awesome Castor of Anamolous Material has tagged me in an internet meme whereby bloggers are asked to respond to seven hard-hitting questions relating to our cinematic lives. There is no time to waste!

1.) What was your first movie-going experience? "E.T." I would have been, I guess, four or five. My dad has always said that at one point when something frightening happened I jumped into his lap and remained there for the rest of the film. I like this story because I think it establishes the fact that - even from the earliest age - I get invested in movies.

2.) How many DVDs do you own? 125. It is 144 if you count TV show and music DVDs. And I'm totally tagging my friend Brad to do this meme because I'm desperate to know how many DVDs he owns.

3.) What is your guilty pleasure movie? Oh, I'm fairly certain most of you already know the answer to this one. Cusack. Beckinsale. "Serendipity". I don't care what you think. My love of "Serendipity" is true and true love lasts a lifetime. What can I say? I'm a romantic and a sucker for destiny, karma and acts of "serendipaciousness."

4.) You have compiled a list of your top 100 movies. Which movies didn’t make the cut? I don't know that I will ever attempt the daunting task of compiling a Top 100 Movie list but if I did I know one movie that wouldn't make the cut - that is, the movie that generally lands in the #1 spot of most Top 100 Movie lists. "Citizen Kane." Don't misunderstand, I respect the hell out of it and I even enjoy it but it wouldn't crack my personal list.

5.) Which movie(s) do you compulsively watch over and over again? If I like a Cameron Crowe film I will beat it into the ground with viewings so relentless they would make your head ache. Compulsive viewings of "Jerry Maguire" gave way to compulsive viewings of "Almost Famous" which gave way to compulsive viewings of "Elizabethtown."

6.) Classic(s) you’re embarrassed to admit you haven’t seen yet? In the memorable words of Goose: "The list is long but distinguished." Let's see...."Vertigo", "Stagecoach", "The Searchers" (note: I don't think I'm a John Wayne fan, which I know amounts to blasphemy), "All About Eve", "Ben Hur", "Patton", "Shane". Also, this might be an opportune moment to admit I've never seen "Scent of a Woman." I mean, I'm happy Al got his Oscar and all but still....

7.) What movie posters hang on your wall? A total of six and they are all in the same room. "Last of the Mohicans" and "Million Dollar Baby", of course, and "Chinatown", "Once Upon A Time In The West", "Annie Hall", and "Bonnie and Clyde". Any wall with a double dose of Dunaway is a good wall, I always say.

So....to whom shall I pass on this festive assignment?

Rory (Movie Idiot) and Brad (Wretched Genius), naturally, in the hope this little listmaking activity might awaken them from their blogging hibernations. And, as noted, I just want to know how many DVDs Brad owns.

Louis at Obscure Movie Thoughts.

Sam at Film Intel.

Summer Movie Q & A

Recently the Hollywood trade paper "Film de Cinema" (founder: Jiff Ramsey) sat down with Cinema Romantico for a little question and answer period relating to the upcoming wannabe blockbuster ridden summer movie season. This is the full transcript.

Film de Cinema: So what you are most thankful for as we get set to undertake the next four months of movies?
Cinema Romantico: Certainly that "Transformers 3" won't be out until next summer. Any summer free of Michael Bay is a good one. Also, that "Transformers 3" won't be starring someone like, say, Frances McDormand.
FdC: Uh, actually it will.
CR: I hate everything.
FdC: Moving on....what movies set for release in 2010 are you most excited about?
CR: Definitely "Nottingham" with Russell Crowe.
FdC: Oops. Again, hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but the title of that one was actually changed to "Robin Hood."

CR: Why? What happened?
FdC: In (Director) Ridley Scott's own words: "If you're going to invest in a Robin Hood story, why call it Nottingham? You'd end up spending 80% of the publicity budget explaining why it's Nottingham, not just Robin Hood. It doesn't make any sense."
CR: Really? 80%? Don't most people associate Nottingham - as in, The Sheriff of Nottingham - with Robin Hood?
FdC: I suppose.
CR: But it doesn't make any sense?
FdC: Well-
CR: So is it no longer told from the point of view of the Sheriff of Nottingham?
FdC: 'Fraid not. Scott and Russell Crowe didn't like the script's original approach and decided to make it more traditional.
CR: Wait, wait, wait. Traditional? Or "real"?
FdC: "Real", probably.
CR: "Real", as in gritty?
FdC: From the sound of it. The Hollywood Reporter advised it was going to be "dark and brooding."
CR: Oh God. Two hours of Russell Crowe glowering.
FdC: I should probably mention, too, that it won't be starring your official Cinematic Crush Sienna Miller in the role of-
CR: Do not get me started.
FdC: Right. Sorry. They're also touting its historical accuracy.
CR: Historical accuracy? Based on what? The mythical Robin Hood? This whole thing's just gonna turn into that "King Arthur" movie "based on the true story that inspired the legend," isn't it?
FdC: You mean the one with Clive Owen?
CR: Exactly! That movie took itself so seriously I thought I was watching a Tom Cruise interview!
FdC: Maybe we should switch gears. How excited are you to see that new Tom Cruise movie, "Knight and Day?"

CR: Super excited!
FdC: Seriously?
CR: Hey, why can't I want to see a big budget potential crap fest? I might even buy popcorn for that one!
FdC: How about "The A Team?"
CR: How can you possibly have "The A Team" without George Peppard?
FdC: The same way you can have "The Karate Kid" without Ralph Macchio.
CR: Then you'd think they could at least make a movie called "Cyrus" without Miley.
FdC: They did! "Cyrus", by The Duplass Brothers!
CR: Really? The Duplass Brothers have a movie coming out in the summer? Is Mumblecore trying to go mainstream?
FdC: What's Mumblecore?
CR: Have you not seen "Quiet City?"
FdC: No. I haven't.
CR: For God's sake, see it. EVERYONE, see "Quiet City!"
FdC: Are you just shamelessly plugging one of your favorite films of the past decade?
CR: Yes. I apologize. I just can't help myself.
FdC: So....what else would you want to see this summer?

CR: "Inception", certainly, and I can't lie - I want to see "The Other Guys" too.
FdC: "Iron Man 2?"
CR: Oh, totally. Downey Jr. getting to talk more than he did in "Sherlock Holmes." Mickey Rourke as a villain. Even though I really like Scarlett Johannson in certain situations I'm a bit wary of her in action role but still....I'll be there.
FdC: Okay, we have to ask. After his recent catastrophe are you excited for "The Last Airbender", the new film from M. Night Shymalan? Do you think his action scenes will deliver the goods?
CR: Forget about the action scenes. The real question is did he go back to film school and simply re-learn how to correctly frame a standard shot?
FdC: How about the new "Twilight" movie?
CR: Next.
FdC: "The Sorcerer's Apprentice?"
CR: Next!
FdC: "Prince of Persia: Sands of Time?"
CR: Next!
FdC: "Toy Story 3?"
CR: Wake me when it's not animated.
FdC: "Marmaduke?"
CR: Oh, come on!
FdC: Okay, how about this? Your favorite actor, Billy Crudup, is set to star in the adaptation of "Eat, Pray, Love" opposite Julia Roberts. Your thoughts?
CR: "Eat, Pray, Love?" I'm still trying to figure out why "Pretty Bird" isn't available on Netflix.
FdC: You must have an opinion.
CR: Can we just call this the summer of my discontent?
FdC: But you said any summer without Michael Bay is a good one.
CR: That was until I found out Frances McDormand was in "Transformers 3."

Marie Antoinette (October 2006)

If you knew nothing of Marie Antoinette, knew nothing of her story or her fate, and sat down to watch Sofia Coppola's latest feature you would guess pretty much from the start that she is doomed. Taken from her homeland of Austria to France where she will marry the dauphin of France, she is initially stopped at the French border where she is stripped and put into French clothes before having her beloved dog taken away. "You can have all the French dogs you want," she is told. And it's at this moment you realize what's going on. Yes, she's going to be the queen of France but really she's just a 14 year old girl who wants to keep her precious dog, damn it.

Once she arrives at Versailles she meets he (Jason Schwartzman) who will be her husband, who cowers - hardly able to even look her in the eye. Her mornings consist of waking up to find 47 people in her room, getting dressed for the day and bowing. There is all kinds of bowing. I mean, they must have set aside 3 hours a day in this society just for bowing. She eats a lot. She drinks a lot. She throws lavish parties. But her primary occupation is attempting to procreate with the dauphin. It's not so much an arranged marriage as it is an arranged procreation except seeing as how his daily meals and hunting trips hold more importance than his wife, this arranged procreation takes a bit of time. And for this she gets immense pressure from back home in Austria. Not to mention the fact she is not attempting to further the cause of her home country within France.

This is a lot for a girl not yet 20 years of age to handle, yes? I'm 29 and I think at this age if I were the dauphine of France I too would be more interested in Parisian opera than politics.

When the current King passes on and the dauphin is made the new king he utters the most telling line in the film, "We are too young to reign." He's clearly not the smartest guy in the world but even he is in touch enough to know this. Yet, they reign anyway.

As the viewer you can see the French revolution coming from several miles away but the characters in the film do not. They are locked away in the world of Versailles. The King receives information from his advisors but has no idea what to do with it or probably what it even means.

Coppola chooses not to show anything in relation to the growing opposition toward the Queen and King. This is the correct decision. The story is told entirely within a contained world, that world being the palace at Versailles. There are scenes set at Marie's countryside retreat but even here we get no glimpse of the outside world - just as the Queen would have no glimpse of it. She is oblivious of the coming storm right up until the end.

Even when the mobs finally do make their way to the palace the people inside its walls don't seem to fully understand what is happening and what will happen. The King is out hunting when he is told a mob is headed for them. Marie Antoinette sits in her nightgown in bed listening to the people outside. They both sit at their dining table as their servants follow the same rituals, right down to the end. Like I said, doomed from the start.

As the title character, Kirsten Dunst is simply fabulous. I long thought she held a potential as a great actress but over the years I have come to see she does have - to some degree - a limited range. But here she is totally within that range and nails it. I don't think there are many actresses who could have accurately captured the young girl Marie Antoinette really was quite like Dunst.

Much has also been made of Coppola using modern music throughout the film but this decision feels right too. Marie Antoinette is from another world and never quite fits in with the French populace. The music underscores this fact.

The woman sitting next to me commented as the credits rolled, "They didn't even show the most important part." She was, of course, referring to the infamous beheading of our main character. But within the story Coppola was telling it would have been false to show this. Again, it's set within a contained world and once they leave the world the story ends. Plain and simple.

I really liked this movie, and I like it more and more the more I think about it. That's always a wonderful thing.

Ice Pirates (October 2005)

I first saw "Ice Pirates" with my mom at the luxurious Valley 3 Cinemas in Des Moines, Iowa. We were forced to sit in the front row because the film was sold out and every one of us in the theater knew as we watched this movie we were witnessing something special. It is rare in the cinematic universe that the stars align in perfect formation and create a constellaton of such beautiful awfulness but with "Ice Pirates" the universe blessed us and I urge you to partake in such an unusual blessing.

I can only assume at this point you're questioning the validity of a film existing with this title. But I assure you I do not jest. "Ice Pirates" is all too real.

The story concerns a motley crew of pirates - the heroic but scruffy leader, the bumbling sidekick who doubles as the token black guy, the fiery love interest, the tough-as-nails female, on and on - who live in a universe where almost all the water has dried up, leaving it as the most precious commodity. They survive by stealing it from the evil Templars (gotta love it). But, as it must, a persistent rumor of a mythical water planet exists.

As the movie opens our motley crew is hi-jacking water from a Templar ship and while doing so the heroic but scruffy leader happens upon the fiery love interest sleeping in some sort of sci-fi movie contraption and kidnaps her and her faithful servant. But the fiery love interest turns the tables on our motley crew by blackmailing them into helping her locate her father who has been on a quest to find the mythical water planet. Unfortunately, the plan goes awry, the pirates lose a video game (I'm still not jesting), the Templars take back the fiery love interest and sell the heroic but scruffy leader and the bumbling sidekick doubling as the token black guy into slavery.

From this point my head starts to hurt as I attempt to recall the wacky hijinks posing as a plot. Let's just say more mayhem ensues - including, but not limited to, a time warp, a masquerade ball, hench-women on unicorns, a jive-talkin' pimp robot, and a conveyor belt with a castrating machine.

Somewhere around the time Bruce Vilanch shows up you're probably going to crave turning off the TV and re-gaining your sense through whatever liquor is readily available. I urge you not to do it. Keep that DVD going, by God. You may have only thought you've seen the world's biggest afro. But if you survive to the finale of this, you'll realize how wrong you were.

The cast is headed up by the late Robert Urich in the type of role that usually translates to agents being fired. He is joined by the heralded Ron Perlman, the renowned Mary Crosby, and the revered Michael D. Roberts (perhaps now best known for his villainous turn as Roger Ipswitch on an episode of "Seinfeld"). Though let the record show Angelica Huston also co-stars.

Yes, an Oscar winner is in "Ice Pirates". I'm guessing she lost a bet over one too many whiskey sours with Robert Urich.

Now, by this point you may be asking why this review is being posted in conjunction with Halloween. An excellent question for which I have an excellent answer. Halloween is meant to frighten, is it not? It's meant to scare? I guarantee "Ice Pirates" will frighten you more than any vampire, werewolf or zombie ever could. The fact this movie somehow was allowed to be greenlit and then actually made without the production screeching to a halt will terrify you for days on end. You don't believe me?

I haven't even mentioned the space herpe yet.