Welcome Back Mr. Pottaaah!

Harry Potter returns in The Order of the Phoenix

I haven’t read the Harry Potter books beyond the first, so when I finished watching the Order of the Phoenix I still had a plethora of questions: What was this new prophecy all about? Who is Luna Lovegood and why am I attracted to her? What is happening to my body? Is this normal? In a surprising display of initiative I decided to mount my own investigation and drum up some answers.

I happen to think being clueless is sexy. Being under-aged? Not so much.

First I put on some pants because apparently it’s the law. Next, I ate a sandwich. Then I spoke to a few friends who had actually read the Harry Potter books and asked them to interpret what the hell happened in The Order of the Phoenix. I listened to their answers and then, regretfully, ate another sandwich.

That was probably not the review you were anticipating so let me go into a little more detail. But first, please excuse me while I make myself more comfortable.

[Cue Mister Rogers music]

[Removes pants in manner eerily reminiscent of Mister Rogers]

It was a little known fact that underneath his Cardigan and pants,
Mr. Rogers was naked

Ah yes, much better. Now we can begin.

The Order of the Phoenix (to hereafter be referred to as TOP) marks director David Yates’ first showing in the Potter series and he has his work cut out for him. Legions of rabid Rowling-ites want to see their beloved Harry and friends re-enact their favorite scenes from the book while legions of rabid movie goers who have not read the books (or possibly even seen the previous movies) will expect to be entertained with magic, mayhem, and a plotline strong enough to stand on its own. Yates clearly chose to side with the legion of Rowling-ites and left the muggles who neglected the books to make-do. This isn’t to say that TOP is a bad movie, merely a disjointed and incomplete one for anybody who hasn’t read the books.

In the first scene, Harry sits alone on a swing as the sky slowly darkens into night. Several large young men approach him and begin verbally tormenting him, even going so far as to ridicule Harry’s dead mother. The bullies are vulgar and hateful and their words are almost shocking in their unexpectedness. Both the bullies’ appearances and actions are not the lighthearted gags of previous Potter movies and instead set the stage for a darker, moodier film than its predecessors.

Harry quickly loses his temper and prepares to fight back against the bullies. Before he can strike, however, the sky turns completely back and an unnatural storm descends upon them. Harry and the lead bully, who is actually his cousin (I think), are separated from the others and take shelter under a bridge. The air freezes around them and Dementors (death-like wraiths) appear. Harry manages to fend them off, but not before his cousin is injured. It’s an exciting scene that promises a film brimming with energy and violence. Unfortunately, the rest of the opening act - and the majority of film - slow down considerably.

Immediately after this energetic opening sequence, Harry is introduced to several of his old friends. While they’re being reacquainted, explanations begin to fly and quickly threaten to overwhelm the unprepared viewer.

And this is the crux of the problem. TOP wants to be a dark, moody film. It wants to have valiant struggles between wizards and warlocks. It also wants to follow the powerful forces warring in Harry Potter’s troubled conscience. But the over reliance on retelling its source material frequently breaks up the flow of the movie and leaves the audience struggling to find a rhythm.

From what I’m told, TOP the book focuses most of its attention on Harry Potter’s inner thoughts as he comes to terms with his impending standoff against arch-nemesis Lord Voldemort (played by a creepy and nose-less Ralph Fiennes). After all, he is dealing with an enemy who killed his parents and, furthermore, has never truly been defeated. And while Harry seeks an end to Voldemort’s machinations, he struggles with the knowledge that more of his friends may suffer or die as a result of their involvement in his crusade against the evil wizard.

Harry’s fears also play a key role throughout the film. Even as political intrigues rage on Hogwarts campus, Harry is continuously locked in battle within his own mind. All of this means you’d better get used to the sight of Harry waking up in a cold sweat because you see it a lot in TOP. A lot. Director David Yates frequently seemed at a loss as to how to express Harry’s growing fears. As a result, we are hit over the head time after time with the sight of Harry sweating profusely, shrugging off his friends and generally feeling sorry for himself.

If it sounds like I’m complaining too much about seeing Harry’s inner demons, it’s because I am. The problem is that there really isn’t much else going on in TOP. Yes there’s an entire plotline about Professor Dumblddore losing control of Hogwarts and some more development of other students but none of it is all that compelling. And besides, it's not really the director's fault.

Even for people like myself who haven’t read the books, we know there is no conclusive battle in TOP. How can there be when the entire series hasn’t even been published yet? Obviously there are a couple more books to go and neither Harry nor Voldemort will die. It is unfortunate, but TOP feels less like a continuation of an adventure and more like a placeholder. It is anti-climactic from beginning to end and the only compelling reason to keep watching it is to catch a glimpse of the occasional display of magic.

Watching TOP can make you pale and confused

My friends did their best to explain to me what actually happened in TOP the movie. Maybe it’s just my thick skull but I still don’t believe much happened at all. If you want to know what really transpired during The Order of the Phoenix, then I suggest you read the book because this Harry Potter movie doesn’t have many answers.

Michael Vick is not the Dog Whisperer

Despite the fact that I feel the way Rosie O'Donnell looks, news that NFL star Michael Vick is being indicted for a dogfighting conspiracy has been a source of some relief. Yes indeed, a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. Now I finally have an answer to that age old question:

Who let the dogs out?

Well played, Baha Men

Warning: Natural Disasters

I was writing my Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix review yesterday when my tummy made like old faithful and ralphed all night. Turns out eating an entire grilled cheese sandwich while being lactose intolerant (as previously noted) is not such a good idea. I'll be back to finish the job either today or tomorrow or whenever the vice-like grip on my colon is relaxed.

Until then, I will be accepting prayers for my anus.

That is all.

World Series of Pop Culture

If you like the kind of useless information I tend to post here then you'll probably enjoy VH1's World Series of Pop Culture (check your local listings for airtime since I haven't a clue). I've been playing along at home and hot damn if it doesn't make me feel like that non-moustachiod stud Alex Trebec.

Shown: Clean-shaven visage
Not shown: Ridiculous mane of pubic hair

The show pits teams of 3 people against one another in one-on-one single category face offs with the loser eliminated (the team that loses all its members first, naturally, is also eliminated). The categories usually focus on movies, music, and television shows of the 70's through 00's. Whenever the movie category comes up, I can sometimes be mistaken as Bill Murray in Groundhog Day but Mexican and with more hair.

Most of the teams know their stuff but Lori Miller of the team White Russians (you know, from the Big Lebowski) committed the unpardonable sin of completely blanking on an entire set of 80's music questions and blaming her inadequacy on "not being born." Geez, the lack of respect in today's sports just about makes me sick. I wasn't born yet in 82 either but I certainly know the lyrics to When Doves Cry (editor's note: apparently Lori wasn't supposed to be a contestant but still).

The questions are fun, the nostalgia is great, and putting all of your useless knowledge to use is vindication for those long hours putting a dent in your couch. Check out the competition and let me know what you think.

Adventures in Working

I was doing my job today, all innocent and fancy-free, when a pair of Gary Coleman-sized cockroaches attacked me. Fortunately my feline reflexes saved me from actually touching the killer insects. However, the commotion startled some nearby customers but I think my quick rendition of "the robot" convinced everyone I was just dancing. Dancing with no warning or music like in Footloose except for two huge cockroaches playing the part of Lori Singer.

Stick some antennae on this guy and you've got one bad ass cockroach

The two cockroaches seemed to be working in tandem to mess with my head so I named them Oprah and Dr. Phil. Oprah and Dr. Phil were worthy adversaries and I knew immediately that they would not be easy to defeat. No amount of machismo or movie trivia knowledge was going to intimidate these two killing machines.

I grabbed some bug spray and gleefully took to spraying down the roach infested workspace. Oprah and Dr. Phil may have checked into my hotel, but they damn sure were not checking out.

My foes must have sensed my approach with insect cunning since neither could be seen. I knew Oprah was ordering Dr. Phil to hide since Dr. Phil is dumb and cannot be trusted to think for himself.

But Dr. Phil was too dumb for even Oprah to control. While I was moving a stack of books, Dr. Phil jumped from his hiding spot and full on bum-rushed me. I countered once again with "the robot" just in the nick of time.

Note my impeccable form and buns of steel

At this point I was about as jittery as Michael Biehn in the Abyss. I tapped every chair and every stack of books once, twice, three times before trusting my delicate flesh to touch it. Every flicker in my peripheral vision triggered an immediate and emphatic karate chop.

Alas, I had scared off Oprah and Dr. Phil.

I finished my task and went off to eat lunch, careful to wash my hands of cockroach spray and fear. When I came back, I found out my little, 60 year old female boss killed one of the bugs. I didn't see the corpse myself, but I'm assuming it was Dr. Phil's since he's too dumb to live.

Oprah remains at large.

Transformers is a spanking good time

I don’t usually look at other reviews when I want to write about a movie, in fact I often go so far as to cover my eyes and ears and hum “Na Na Na Na. Hey Hey Hey,” to myself before quietly whispering “goodbye.” But in the case of Transformers, there are just too many opinions out there to ignore. Here are a few examples.

Readers at IMDB have given Transformers a hearty 8.1 rating with many glowing reviews like, “Best Cartoon Adaptation Ever!!!” and “2 ½ hours of Power Rangers (at least, I think that’s a positive review).” On the flip side are the negative reviews such as “Disappointmentron” and “A Noisy Mess.”

Readers are more critical at Rotten Tomatoes where the average score is 57%. And even that number pales in comparison to the ongoing discussion that the success of Transformers director Michael Bay is proof that God does not, in fact, exist. While This Distracted Globe makes some very astute observations about Bay’s preference for Satanism style over substance, I’ve swallowed this amalgam of reviewing madness and produced a very simple theory for the polarized opinions on this summer's newest blockbuster:

Transformers is robot porn.

Admittedly, this photo of Megan Fox isn't from Transformers but
I still think it supports my claim. And I like it. Grrrrrr

I did not arrive at my porn conclusion lightly. Far from it. Many hours of deliberation were spent whilst squatting on the toilet and groaning. Groaning in deep, deep concentration.

If you consider the film’s composition, I think you’ll agree with my pornographic analysis. Transformers is about robots. Robots that fight each other and get very sweaty (obviously not with normal human sweat, but with DW 40 and other artificial lubricants) and grunt and “get physical” with one another. Frequently these robots interact with humans in interracial scenes, if you will. And like many other Michael Bay/porn productions, the plot merely serves to create semi-plausible scenarios for said robot action. It’s also plausible that you’ll want to take a nap after this orgy of robot action replete with multiple fighting partners, occasional tag teams, back door attacks and bondage. The only thing this movie is missing is light petting and – oh wait, even that’s in Transformers too.

This one's for the ladies

Watching this kind of movie will no doubt separate people into different camps.

One of these camps is for people that don’t want to admit any interest in a Michael Bay/porn flick. These types of people are liable to say things like, “I hardly ever watch these kinds of movies,” and “I didn’t want to see this at all but my finger must have slipped on the wrong 3 button sequence while my other hand was simultaneously scratching a very strong itch on my upper thigh.”

The other camp enjoys the thrills and isn’t ashamed to scratch their itch in public.

The third and final camp just doesn’t like this movie.

Of course, these camps are only filled with adults since Transformers seems innocent enough to kids who don’t know anything about the birds and the bees. But everyone not regularly watching Dora the Explorer will know that they are seeing pure, unadulterated, orgiastic action that is simply not interested in producing genuine emotion or character development.

Maybe my analysis still seems far-fetched. I offer one final quote from Michael Bay.
“I make movies for teenage boys.”

And what do teenage boys want to see? That’s right, robot porn.

Television Spotlight: Burn Notice

USA aims for the lighter side of espionage in its newest spy television show Burn Notice. After watching a couple of episodes, I’d say it’s more or less on target.

The spy in this spy show is played by Jeffrey Donovan (who incidentally was not in Mumford). Donovan is Michael Westen – a US Government agent who is unceremoniously fired, beaten up, and discarded in Miami without so much as a pink slip or explanation from his former agency (I’m assuming this is the case. I missed the beginning of the first episode so I’m going with the commercials on this one). To make matters worse for Westen, his money’s gone, his history’s been erased and he’s stuck in the same city as his possessive mother and combative ex-girlfriend who also happens to be a spy. It’s now Westen’s job to figure out how things went wrong and then put them right again.

Jeffrey Donovan has a severe case of puppy dog eyes

Burn Notice has a difficult mission. It wants to be two parts James Bond to one part Remington Steele. It’s a fine line to be edgy, dangerous, and comedic and I have strong suspicions that Burn Notice will end up falling on the softer side of Remington Steele.

For one thing, leading man Jeffrey Donovan isn’t quite suave enough to be Bond (or even Steele, really) but he fits smoothly into the role of an everyday nice guy caught in a jam -who just happens to be an ex-spy. And in many respects, Donovan’s acting is a lot like his character’s personality; he wants to be a tough guy but deep down inside he’s all softie. Sure, he may help immigrants and little old ladies because he needs the money and information, but we know it’s really because he’s a decent guy who can’t ignore a genuine plea for help.

That’s not to say that Michael Westen is a wuss. Donovan is sleek and muscular enough to be a credible killing machine even if his puppy dog eyes (I may be a dude but I do notice these things) convey an inner good guy-ness. It’s only when Donovan tries to be cold and conflicted that he instead comes out sounding stiff and stilted.

It’s still early in the show’s career, but the simplistic plotlines also keep Burn Notice out of Bond territory. Westen quickly meets a wronged victim and sets out to help them in exchange for some cash or helpful intel. The bad guys are then identified within the first ten minutes and the remaining time in the hour long show is spent going through the espionage motions of bugging, shadowing, and general tomfoolery. This could get formulaic real fast except for the key additions of some excellent co-stars.

Gabrielle Anwar is the trigger-happy ex-girlfriend and she manages a solid performance despite an Irish (?) accent that makes her sound like a female version of Colin Farrell. By the second episode, some actual chemistry exists between her and Donovan and the makings of a relationship that isn’t quite “love-hate” begins to emerge.

The real scene-stealer, however, is good old Bruce Campbell. Brisco County Jr. has aged considerably since the last time I saw him, but he’s still got that same loveable charm and goofball wit. Campbell plays washed out ex-agent Sam who is Westen’s energetic foil and reluctant ally. Sam looks like he’ll be a frequent partner for Westen and bringing in Bruce Campbell already looks like the smartest move Burn Notice has made.

Visually, this is unmistakably a beach show. It doesn’t have the crazy colors of CSI:Miami (or David Caruso’s baby lips), but the washed blues and beiges remind me of Pacific Blue from back in the day. And perhaps I’m simply spoiled on high-definition television, but the film quality on Burn Notice seems grainer than most shows.

If a baby were aged 50 years and forced to pose relentlessly, then that baby's name would be David Caruso

Burn Notice is set to live and die by the performance of its relatively small cast. While the early episodes already show the beginnings of an Investigation-of-the-week formula, it’s up to the ex-spy and his friends to keep the action fast and light. With any luck, they’ll tighten some plots, throw in a few new characters and survive for a little while longer. Burn Notice is a spy show that’s more comedy than killer but it’s already captured my attention.

Primal Fear is best described by adjectives

A lot of words get thrown around in movie reviews that I generally don’t agree with. Words like “thrilling,” “taut,” and “great ass.” Few movies can live up to such lofty descriptions but Primal Fear is one of them.

Primal Fear is indeed a taut, thrilling courtroom drama filled with sweet lines and a great ass. Richard Gere supplies said ass as hotshot defense attorney Martin Vail – a man who has made a career out of massaging the law for his mafia and thug ridden clientele.

Few men command as much attention from women and gerbils as Dick Gere

Nobody is surprised when Vail talks his way into defending the number one suspect (played by Eddie Norton) in the brutal slaying of a popular local bishop. But while Marty Vail thinks he’s riding a bullet train to Publicity Town, he’s completely unaware of the planned detour in What-the-hell-is-going-on-here-Ville. That's right, this slick plot is filled with scandalous twists and mephitic turns, but it’s the acting that really drives this film.

Ed Norton contemplates the horror of his Italian Job 'stache

Gere is shrewd, arrogant, and impossible not to love. He’s the kind of guy who can stay out all night chatting up women in bars and messing around with his gerbils and then kick ass in court the next morning. But before you get too excited, I should probably note that the gerbils only have a minor role in this particular film.

Laura Linney also stars as Martin Vail's lawyer ex-girlfriend. In a move that shouldn't surprise anyone, she gets assigned as Gere’s opposing prosecution/love interest. Linney brings a certain intelligent foxiness that makes her more than adequate in both roles though I still liked her more in Congo (Just kidding. Ugh. Excuse me while I dry heave on my cheese nips).

I saw Congo once. And now I'm probably sterile

Linney is good and Gere is better but there’s no doubt that Edward Norton is the true star of the film. “How good is he?” you may ask. He’s so good that it’s impossible not to be caught up in his performance. This is the role that shot Norton into the limelight and for good reason. I could describe his performance in greater detail but I won’t - so you’ll just have to see it for yourself.

Primal Fear is a little dated with its stuffy wardrobe and lack of cool gadgets (case in point: they use VHS) but that serves to keep it true to its Film Noir roots. Every once in a while you’ll hear some trumpet belting out a sad tune and you’ll think “oh yeah, I’m feeling me some Film Noir up in here.” And the dialogue is just crisp enough to keep that hard-boiled feeling going strong from beginning to end.

Primal Fear is a smart, well-crafted movie that is captivating right up until the very last scene. It may not be the deepest movie, but it’s definitely got a thrilling, taut ass. I suggest you stare at it intently and be prepared to drool a little.

Life Free or Die Hard of Shame

While I was on my way to a clothing store today, my little brain idly wondered if I'd once again run into the same gay asian dude who works there. I have nothing against gay asian dudes or any combination thereof, but this particular gay asian dude had been both very helpful in the past and also a little too forward if you know what I mean. And I think you do.

As soon as I entered the store, I immediately conducted a code yellow reconnaissance sweep for the GAD (gay asian dude) to assess the necessity for evasive maneuvers. I sneaked my way to the back of the store unobserved but the GAD was sneakier and ambushed me from a rear employee door. At this point I temporarily lost control of my body, which proceeded to give the gay asian dude a very unmasculine, sideways, "ta-ta" hello wave. I think the guy said hello back to me but I can't be too sure since I was busy scuttling away. I still bought a shirt, but I have yet to forgive my arm for disobeying orders in a time of crisis.

Oh yeah, I also saw Die Hard 4.

Tooling is Cool

I've been doing some tooling around these last couple of days. One of my goals is to rock some new graphics all up in here, because while I love my baby, I think it's time for him (her?) to grow up and quit being such a damn baby.

Also, I'm debating whether I should start using an iPhone or not. On the one hand, I don't want to send the message that I'd rather spend money on a new toy than on beautiful women who want to feed me pomegranates and call me Tattoo. And on the other hand, I could watch videos like this one about the band Flight of the Conchords. They're funny.

More Hot Movie Awards

True Story: A friend once said I look like Matthew McConaughey.
Not True Story: Money was not exchanged.

What? - you thought I was finished with my hot movie reviews? Oh no you di'int. Here are some more Hot Movie Awards I had baking in the oven.

[Cue Drumroll]

Winner of the “Movie that convinces me – once again – to never mess with Anthony Hopkins” award.

Fracture

Winner of the “Movie that best teaches young children why you should never, ever run with scissors” award.

Mr. Brooks

Winner of the “Funniest British comedy of the year starring the exact same cast as Sean of the Dead” award.

Hot Fuzz

Winner of the “Best lapdance involving a one-legged stripper with a wooden peg leg and Quentin Tarentino’s viscous naughty bits” award.

Grindhouse

Winner of the “Hey that’s a cast member of the Office not named Steve Carell!” award.

Blades of Glory

Winner of the “Movie that somehow manages to show two hours of shooting (duh) and violence without any of it being disturbing until the final two minutes” award.

Shooter

Winner of the “Movie you should never go to see at 1am in an empty theater except for one creepy dude sitting DIRECTLY BEHIND YOU” award. Trust me on this one.

Zodiac

Winner of the “Best use of nipples in a whale explosion scene” award.

Reno 911!:Miami

Winner of the “Movie that inexplicably shows Nicky Cage in such ripply good shape that you suddenly feel like Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation” award.

Ghost Rider

Hot Movie Awards

I saw a few movies over the past couple months. None of them knocked my socks off which was probably a good thing for the rest of the audience - my feet are silent but deadly. Anyhoo, in the spirit of summer I’ll give every movie a deserving award.

Drumroll please...

Winner of the “Movie that most weirds me out based on the fact that the central character spews an inordinate amount of goo without the aid of supplements or donkey hormones” award.

Spiderman 3

Winner of the “Movie that makes me question my own masculinity the most” award. (Obviously I need to work on my six-pack and ability to draw blood with verbal barbs)

300

Winner of the “Movie that makes me want to be the fifth member of the Fantastic Four and have daily access to the Invisible Woman’s under thingies” award.

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer

Winner of the “Movie that most needs some good Mormon comic relief” award. (Those guys are hilarious)

Evan Almighty

Winner of the “Best Ocean’s 11 Movie not titled ‘Ocean’s 12'" award. (God that movie sucked)

Ocean’s Thirteen

Winner of the “Movie with the most attractive leads with the worst hygiene” award.

Pirates of the Caribbean 3

Winner of the “Movie that is most likely to inspire penguin bestiality” award. (I like that Zooey Deschanel. A lot.)

Surf’s Up

Winner of the “Hottest Ogre on Ogre action” award.

Shrek the Third

A Treatise on The Spoon and Nakedness

Loyal Reader Sadie recently commented on the perplexing paucity of posts present in pthis phumble pblog (true fact: alliteration is always pretty.) All I can say is that when you have wrists as delicate as Barbaro’s ankles (which I do) then you have to rest up when you can or risk being ridden by small hairy foreign men. Or something.

What I’m trying to say is that I’m like Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally and this blog, The Spoon, is Meg Ryan (but funnier and with a less iconic haircut). So me and Meg Ryan have really hit it off in the past, but we haven’t achieved that wonderful stage of our relationship where we feel comfortable making orgasm sounds together in public. But then something happens and we don’t see each other for a while. And then bam! – we run into each other again and the flame is reignited. Except now I’m divorced and I really like to play topless beach volleyball with my dude friends and Meg Ryan is still grieving over her dead fighter pilot husband. Or was that Top Gun? Aw, screw it, you know what I mean. I’m back baby!

Except for the Scientology, I could be looking in a mirror. Topless.

To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure what direction The Spoon is headed. I still like writing movie reviews but it isn't really enough for me. Writing nothing but reviews is like having an all meat diet. Sure, meat gives you all the nutrients you need for a thick, healthy stool, but sometimes you want some greens to clean up the plumbing. So you can probably expect a few off topic posts. However, I will absolutely do my best to NOT spend ten paragraphs describing last night’s dream in which my mom dropped me off at work and I had a really big piece of gristle stuck in my teeth and nobody told me the entire day. And also I was naked. So, don’t expect to hear long-winded tales of my naked-dream-gristle-exploits because that’s what my psychiatrist is for. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. And you can also be naked if you want.

Hats are optional

Congratulations!

The Spoon is happy to announce that Sadie from Sadie, Sadie, Married Lady is our Name That Movie Champion!

I'm very impressed with Sadie's resourcefulness as the contest picture was not only just a head shot, but not even an attractive head shot either. That's like an automatic two strikes against figuring out the answer. But Sadie perserved and deserves mad, wicked, sick props. Or something.

For those of you not in the know, The Hunt for Red October was the big budget movie based on political thriller writer Tom Clancy's first published novel. Here's how Red October met my previous hints:

Hint#1: Our hero (not shown), probably wishes he just wrote a memo.
Red October centers around the actions of CIA analyst turned super badass agent (kind of) Jack Ryan (played by some dude named Alec Baldwin - never heart of him). This movie (and book) marks Ryan's first of many apperances in the Clancy universe. It also follows him as he uncovers the secret motives of a Russian captain who may or may not wish to defect to America with a super bad ass submarine named Red October.

Hint#2: Brought the term "caterpillar" back into the water.
What makes the Red October so special is it's underwater propulsion system which is able to use state of the art technology, code named: caterpillar drives, (that don't actually exist) to run almost completely silent. This is a major bonus to submarines that want to kill stuff without being killed in return. It's also a big reason why the Russkies do not want the Americans to get access to its technology.

I will grow this flower to be a flawless symbol of our love. I will nurture it each day with fresh soil and water and sing Scottish love songs to make it strong and vibrant. When it is fully grown I will rip it from the ground and f*** it.

Hint#3: Features the most Scottish Russian ever.
Sean Connery is the captain of the sub, instantly raising the Red October's hotness rating by a factor of 10.

Version 2.o

I'll admit it. The last version of Name That Movie! was dang hard, so naturally I'll do the same one again - but with two more hints. (By the way, good try Squish but not quite right.)

Hint#1: Our hero (not shown), probably wishes he just wrote a memo.

Hint#2: Brought the term "caterpillar" back into the water.

Hint#3: Features the most Scottish Russian ever.

The Picture:

I'm impressed. Really. I admire the restraint you all are displaying by not flooding the comments with praise and reckless displays of virtual nookie. I've therefore come to the conclusion that some form of release should be organized for your reading pleasure.
And so to that end, I hereby begin the next installment of Name that Movie!

You all know the rules, and if you don't then here they are again because I'm such a nice guy.

The Rules:

1)Guess the movie title of the displayed picture.
2)Write said movie title in comments section.
3)First correct answer receives recognition and adulation.
4)Second correct answer receives Miss Congeniality Award

The Picture:


The Hint:
Our hero (not shown), probably wishes he just wrote a memo.

Your Horoscope is Back!

Take a glimpse into your near-future but be warned - you may not like what you see. Also be warned, I totally made this up.

You will run into an old friend from high school and spend at least fifteen minutes catching up on each other's lives. After you leave, your "friend" will spend another twenty minutes trying to remember who the hell you are.

Pan's Labyrinth keeps it real

(as far as fairy tales can keep it real)

This may come as a shock to some of you, but today’s fairy tales are for wusses. Not only is there a disturbing lack of violence in most modern tellings of fairy tales but very often there is also a distinct lack of torture, death, bestiality, and character development. Fairy tales are also the putative vessels of morals and life lessons but they’re in sore need of some updating. For example, if I followed the lessons taught in Jack and the Beanstalk and traded my “heifer” for another man’s “beans” I’d probably end up with a sore butt and a weepy appearance on Cops. Thankfully, we have Pan’s Labyrinth to rectify this sorry situation.

Pan’s Labyrinth has been billed as a fairy tale for adults and as we’ll see, this is a key distinction for its success as a modern fairy tale. Of course, “adult fairy tale” conjures images of bound and gagged fairies and little hairy fauns with an appetite for tickling (at least for me), but the “adult” tag instead describes a darker, more subtle style of storytelling that eschews happy talking animals in favor of freaking huge goat men with cryptic motives and Nazis. This turns out to be a very good move for audiences with the exception of small children who will probably become confused and perhaps more than a little afraid of the woods, the dark, and authoritarian military regimes.

A hairy faun with a penchant for tickling or the director of Pan's Labyrinth?
You be the judge.

As most fairy tales go, the set up is simple: during the ominous period of World War II, a young girl (played by Ivana Baquero) and her pregnant mother move into the Spanish countryside to be with her militant stepfather (Sergi Lopez). The young girl’s name is Ofelia and her new home is full of surprises as she is soon approached by creatures of the underworld (ie: the freaking huge goat man/faun) who promise her the eternal life of a princess if she is able to complete a series of tasks. Admittedly, this may sound a bit blah, but there’s much more going on beneath the idyllic surface because as it turns out, the stepfather isn’t just your run-of-the-mill-abusive-man-of-the-house (whew), but a Nazi general tasked with the destruction of the region’s anti-fascist rebels. And it isn’t long before little Ofelia’s quest for princess-hood throws her smack dab in the middle of this very real and very violent conflict. With princesses and fairies, freedom fighters and Nazis, we certainly have the makings of a modern fairy tale and fortunately Pan’s Labyrinth looks like one too.

Little Ofelia and her horny friend

Visually, this is a stunning movie. The settings range from the vibrant green forests to a flickering-candlelit dinner party of death (check, please?) and they all look faaaabulous. The lack of computer-generated effects is also a strength as the fauns and creepy baddies prowl and lurk with a realism that will keep you awake at night (or so I’m told - ahem). Even during gunfights and torture scenes (oh yes, there is torture) the lights and colors are appropriately bright and cheery or dark and threatening. Everything on the screen is just a little more beautiful and a little more haunting as befitting a fairy tale.

I may be creepy and wrinkly but I have the heart of a little boy. In my fridge.
I'm saving it for a potluck.

What sets Pan’s Labyrinth apart form other fairy tales (and other movies) is its ability to put shades of gray into every character. Ofelia may appear as your average young princess-in-training, but only over time does it become clear whether her dreams are purely selfish fantasy or perhaps something more altruistic. There are several scenes in which Ofelia puts herself and those around her at great risk and the audience is constantly left to wonder what she is thinking. The combination of excellent dialogue, cinematography, and acting make every character, including the monstrous stepfather, more than just a cardboard cutout.

And the acting really is top notch. Ivana Baquero deftly walks the fine line of innocence without falling off the edge. Sergi Lopez also stands out as the loathsome stepfather/dictator. There isn’t a weak link in the cast and Pan’s use of Spanish lends the entire film a sense of exoticism that further serves the film’s fairy tale roots.

If I were a smarter man with a larger ego (mine is actually small, humble, and modestly gorgeous), I might argue that Pan’s Labyrinth could be seen as an allegory for that troubling passage between childhood and a full blown case of adult-itis. I’ll leave you, my beautiful readers, to draw your own conclusions, but it is thanks to Pan’s layered nuances in both plot and design that this interpretation is even possible. You may ultimately agree or disagree with my deductions here, but you will also thank me for seeing this film.

Pan’s Labyrinth is a haunting, beautiful film that deserves to be seen on the big screen. If you haven’t seen it yet, go now. Otherwise, go see it again. If you haven’t guessed by now, I’ve awarded Pan with a John rating (4 out of 4 stars).

Reports of my death...

Contrary to what you may have heard, I am either dead nor have I been secretly recruited by the FBI as an undercover agent, codename: Littlenips, in a clandestine operation in conjunction with Smokey the Bear to prevent forest fires.

Smokey doesn't like forest fires - or your face

Actually, I've been doing a lot of reading while simultaneously exploring the wonderful world of suppositories. Suffice it to say, I've been doing a good deal of bathroom reading and in the process I've climbed onto the Christopher Moore bandwagon, one chaffed butt cheek at a time.

I'm nearly fully healed now and back in the theaters so expect some upcoming reviews and tidbits about Pan's Labyrinth (good), Ghost Rider (okay), and hopefully Reno 911!:Miami after tonight.

What doesn't kill you only makes you remember those times your nuts were grabbed

Ever since I started working again, I've had a little less time for movies and more time for another much less satisfying event: death. Ok, I'm exaggerating, but when I perch myself atop our bookstore's rickety wooden ladder, my feet struggling to find purchase like a free climbing monkey, random questions and events actually do flash before my eyes. Here are some of the more interesting ones.

Nice balls

-Back in 10th grade, I was leaving school when some random dude ran up to me, grabbed my junk with his right hand and then began to roll them around like chinese exercise balls. It hurt a lot and I was too shocked to reteliate beyond a fierce whimper. Immediately afterwards, the guy looked sincerely apologetic for applying the kung-fu grip to my balls and said, "I'm sorry man. If you want, you can do it to me too." I croaked out a negative and never saw him again. I wonder how he's doing these days.

-In Anaconda, what kind of accent was Jon Voight trying to do? And in a somewhat related note, if Futurama were ever made into a movie, I think a young Jon Voight would make a superb Zapp Brannigan.

I am one helluva stud

-Occasionally when I hack up a loogie, I get an eyelash in there. I recently learned that these aren't eye lashes after all. Why did I ever have to learn the truth?

-How do they keep making Species movies?

-Remember in The Shining when Jack Nicholson (or was it the wife?) runs up the stairs and sees the dude in the bear suit "performing" on the other dude? That was the creepiest thing ever.

That'll be $1000. Biatch.

-You know how tons of people get hired in movies because they're really overweight or unattractive. How does a casting director tell an actor that they've just won the role for "Fat ugly broad #4?" And when the actress is finally in her one scene, does the director say, "Now stand over here and just let your belly hang out. Let your gut explore the space, I really want to see some expressive jiggling."

-Did Keyser Soze have previous practice urinating on a moving target? I'd like to think that I could extinguish a trail of gunpowder with my own modest urine, but writing my name in the toilet can't possibly be adequate preparation.

Gloating Denied!

I was all set to get my gloat on over my first victory in Name That Movie! when Ian ups and wins! Again!

Yes, that dastardly Ian (of Adventures of the S-Team fame) has foiled my plans by correctly identifying The Adventures of Baron Munchausen.

I remember watching this adventure flick way back when I was just a wee little boy. I was forever traumatized by the image of death, which was offset somewhat by lovely nubility (if that's not a word, it should be) of Uma Thurman. Other positives include a man with enough wind to blow down an army and another dude not named Superman who can run faster than a speeding bullet. And of course there's the Baron, played by John Neville, who exudes the exact brand of bravado and dashing derring-do that you want from a hero not named Chuck Norris. And he really knows how to make it with the ladies, if you know what I mean.

This one's for the ladies

And one for the men

And for everyone else into the kinky stuff. You know who you are

Congratulations again to Ian and enjoy watching The Adventures with my blessing.

And I apologize to squish for his continued failure. Better luck next time!

Name That Movie!

The first thing I did this morning was hack up a gob of phlegm roughly the size of Stephen Hawking's brain, and we all know what that means:

It's time for another rousing edition of Name That Movie!
to be immediately followed by a trip to the doctor.

Due to my three toed sloth like slowness, everyone is eligible to participate and win in this week's contest. Remember: I'll show a picture and hint from a movie and all you have to do is guess the movie's title in the comment section. You'll win fame, respect, money, and hot boys/girls to do naughty things to you, but mostly you'll get your name emblazoned here (and isn't that what we all really want anyway?).

Here's the picture:

And here's the hint:

This movie displays some incredible speed, strength, and superhuman hearing.

Now get to it!

A Day in the Life

Since nobody shared their deserted island movies with me, I have no choice but to write about my poops.

Now that I have a job, my poops are no longer my own. I must dole them out carefully when I’m not helping customers or daydreaming about Elisha Cuthbert and tartar sauce.

Mmmmm... Tartar sauce....

I’ve realized that poops can be a highly valued commodity in the workforce; they’re kind of like brown, stinky tokens that can be exchanged for a free break. I mean, given a choice, every boss in the world will want you to take a dump in a toilet instead of on a customer’s chest. That’s just good service. And by carefully timing your bowel movements, you can effectively double your break time. Granted, you’ll be spending that time perched on a toilet straining your little heart out, but beggars can’t be choosers.

The unspoken rule of customer service

My personal bowel movements are pretty regular. Meaning they regularly come when I’m helping three different customers at the same time and there’s nobody around to help me. My poops are particularly attracted to stress, I think, and arrive as soon as I feel pressured. Maybe it’s nature’s way of telling me to “hurry up” and get rid of these other people so I can take care of my own “business.”

I work with a lot of women so I’m particularly careful of leaving incriminating poop stains on the toilet seat. I figure that I will be the prime suspect in any bowel chicanery since men naturally have the dirtiest butts. To avoid unsightly smears I always create a makeshift seat cover using spit and toilet paper. The single bathroom stall is so small that it’s impossible to sit straight down and instead I have to move down at a left to right angle. But if I move too quickly then the resulting air-flow knocks over my MacGuyvered seat cover and then the risk of smear stains rises exponentially. To combat this I have to hover my butt mere inches from the seat at a roughly 45-degree angle. That’s when I snap my butt down with the speed of an attacking cobra snake.

I'm so fast, I just pooped right now while you were reading this

I’d tell you about the rest of my day, but it’s pretty inconsequential compared to this.

Martha Stewart's Deserted Island Living

Being stuck on an island can make you go a little crazy, such as starring in a bad movie with a worse haircut

The deserted island scenario is no laughing matter in my mind. If Survivor has taught me anything, it’s that being stranded on a deserted island may help you lose weight and look better naked (positive), but it will also convert your body into prime residential housing for the nastiest fleas, gnats, and lice ever to explore a sphincter (negative). It’s therefore extremely important to keep your morale high. Being able to watch a movie on this deserted island (pretend there’s a Swiss Family Robinson contraption that can operate a single dvd player and tv screen and nothing else) could mean a quiet, peaceful death (positive) or a cruel, unhappy death (negative). It all depends on which movie you choose.

The following are my top five deserted island movies:

5) Groundhog Day
This comedy gem has all the components of a timeless flick, and it better if it’s supposed to keep me from going crazy and prancing around my deserted island in Speedos and boots. Bill Murray is on top of his game and his egotism is as refreshing as it is hilarious. Also, Andie MacDowell provides just the romantic spark that’ll keep me warm inside.

4) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Probably one of the most well rounded adventure movies in the last thirty years. One of the best leading men, ever, in Harrison Ford gives the Last Crusade the kind of inspiring heroism that can make every challenge seem a little more manageable. The lack of a “good” leading lady is probably the one element I’m not crazy about while on my island fortress of unwanted solitude. But this is the best of the Indiana Jones series and, “I even like the color.”

3) Singing in the Rain
I used to make fun of my friend for liking such a sissy movie. Then I saw it and immediately fell in love (platonically of course) with this fun, witty, and great sing-a-long film. I’m a fan of the dancing and Gene Kelly knows how to hoof around and he’s not a bad singer either. With the incredible soundtrack as my guide, I’ll also be able to stun pigeons with my caterwauling and keep myself well fed.

2) Roman Holiday
Gregory Peck is five kinds of smooth, but we all know it’s Audrey Hepburn who will keep me "sexually healed.” Yeah, that’s right. Somebody has to keep me satisfied and I choose sweet, innocent, nubile Audrey Hepburn.

Princess Jasmine has what the Arabians called "a nice rack"

1) Aladdin
I know I could watch Aladdin forever because I practically have. Growing up I was a little, how do you say, obsessed with Aladdin. But can you really blame me? It’s got humor, action, adventure and a fairy tale romance with a male lead that I can not only admire, but occasionally look like if the lighting is bad enough. And don’t get me started on Princess Jasmine. Plus, the songs and happy ending could keep me entertained and well-fed (read: confusing stunned pigeon reference) for a long, long time.

That’s my list and I’m sure yours is different. Please share your deserted island picks so I can admire your choices, or gently poke fun at them, whichever is appropriate.

The Good Shepherd is good, but remains poor substitute for Prozac

A couple days ago my dad and I were talking about which movie we’d like to have while stranded on a deserted island. We agreed that the ideal movie should be:

1) Entertaining (to help you forget about the friendly parasites setting up shop in your boopity-boops)
2) Timeless (so you can watch it over and over like a pre-stroke Dick Clark on New Year’s Eve)
3) Uplifting (to stave off the crazies a la Cast Away’s Wilson the anthropomorphic volleyball with a heart of gold)

We also agreed that while The Good Shepherd has enough plot and visual flair to meet the first criteria, it’s also too long by half and depressing enough to make you want to grab a coconut and bash in your own skull. In other words, don’t take The Good Shepherd on any three-hour tours.

You talkin' to me? Well, I'm the only one here, but maybe you got a wireless headset

Fans of The Mole will be happy to note that The Good Shepherd marks Robert De Niro’s second stint in the director’s chair. Apparently, De Niro wanted to direct a film about the CIA and the resulting personal and political turmoil that marked its creation. After watching the finished product I would say he succeeded almost too well.

De Niro obviously has a strong eye for the visuals and composes many excellent shots throughout the film. Foggy boat rides and gloomy London streets stand out with bold shadows and silhouettes and even the ubiquitous office scenes contain a symmetrical sterility that play a strong counterpoint to the twisting plots and machinations.

But if you’re not a fan of the spy games, consider this a big ole red flag. The Shepherd is bursting with codes, ciphers, bluffs, double bluffs, and I’m not positive, but maybe even triple bluffs. It’s never clear exactly who can be trusted and part of the film’s shine comes from the many pieces that never quite come together without a little mental work on your end. Some people will enjoy connecting the dots while more people will probably get frustrated and put off by the continued mind games.

The main participant of said mind games is CIA Operative Edward Wilson, played by Matt Damon. Wilson’s codename is Mother; it’s a silly code name for a man who probably has the smallest sense of humor, ever. Damon will get some serious award consideration for this role since it’s not easy making such a methodical, introspective individual into a watch-able and sympathetic “hero.” But Damon somehow succeeds in doing so with a stony face and the body language of a brick wall.

My main gripe with The Good Shepherd goes a little more fundamental than the visuals and acting, however. De Niro clearly wanted to show the dangerous power wielded by the upstart CIA during the Cold War and the moral dilemmas they faced. Unfortunately, all too often in The Shepherd these dilemmas are acted out as personal tragedies in Wilson’s home life. He is trapped in a loveless marriage with a strange and quiet child and these relationships are stretched beyond breaking in the course of Wilsons’ secretive work. But the extended focus on Wilsons’ home life diminshes its import and pretty soon the string of tragedies seem more like calculated plot devices than anything else. By the end of the film, I couldn’t help but feel that The Good Shepherd was doing its best to make me cry and I resented this feeling of overt manipulation.

This baby has just seen The Good Shepherd

In the end, my complaints of The Good Shepherd are really only about too much of a good thing. This is a finely crafted movie that simply tried too hard to make its point. As a result, The Shepherd runs at least 20 minutes too long and remains very, very depressing. For those of you who have the time and the interest, this can be a very rewarding film that will leave you with strong images of a confusing chapter in American history. But if you don’t have an extra 3 hours to spare or a resilient volleyball with a heart of gold to keep you from de-braining yourself, you’ll probably have a better day by skipping The Good Shepherd.

The Shepherd is well made, no doubt about it, to the tune of a Paul score (3 out of 4 stars). However, the content is so damn depressing that I only recommend it to the heartiest folk.