Recently in Movies Category

"There's something very familiar about all this." - BIFF TANNEN, AGED 77

Roger Ebert defined a sequel as "a filmed deal," and it's amazing how accurately the truly odd Back to the Future Part II reflects that definition. The supplemental materials on the movie's DVD are surprisingly candid in laying out why the movie exists and why it took the form that it did. When the first Back to the Future was released in 1985, it was anything but a sure thing. The film's star, Michael J. Fox, was not a household name yet, and the film's co-creators (Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale) had failed to attain mainstream success with their two previous films, I Want to Hold Your Hand and Used Cars. Worse yet, the Zemeckis/Gale-scripted 1941, directed by Steven Spielberg, had been a financial disaster for Universal Pictures. So another Zemeckis/Gale comedy with Spielberg as producer was a risky proposition. In fact, the film could easily have turned out to be another embarrassing boondoggle for Universal.

But, of course, the first film was a massive worldwide hit, the top-grossing American film of 1985. A sequel was inevitable, and Universal informed Zemeckis and Gale that one would happen whether they were involved or not. So they were now "locked in," so to speak, as were most of the members of the first film's cast. Strangely, though, it was the holdout of one of the supporting players, Crispin Glover, that provided the catalyst for the sequel's plot in which his character (loveable nerd George McFly) is mysteriously killed off, creating another "time travel" problem for the heroes, Doc and Marty, to solve.

I don't think I'm making any kind of an Earth-shattering revelation when I say that I was a comedy junkie for most of the '80s. I didn't distinguish between good comedy or bad comedy, high or low humor; if it meant to be funny, I would watch it. This is why, in addition to the collective works of Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker, I've also seen movies like Morgan Stewart's Coming Home multiple times and Johnny Dangerously was considered must-see viewing in the Clark household whenever it came on television, which was often. ("You shouldn't hang me on a hook, Johnny. My father hung me on a hook once. Once!") The holy grail for me, though (until I saw Monty Python and the Holy Grail, that is), was just about any film that starred an alumnus of Saturday Night Live -- despite the fact that I was too young to stay up and actually watch Saturday Night Live at the time. The ones that I gravitated to the most were Dan Aykroyd, John Belushi, Chevy Chase and Bill Murray, the breakout stars of the original cast who had gone on to great success (individually or in various pairings) in films like Animal House, The Blues Brothers, Caddyshack, Stripes, National Lampoon's Vacation, Trading Places and Ghostbusters. Sure, not all the movies they made were gems (Modern Problems, anyone? If not, would you prefer a house call from Doctor Detroit?), but I watched them regardless. As long as they made me laugh once or twice, I wasn't too particular.

If I respected any one of them more than the other four, it was definitely Dan Aykroyd, largely because he had a hand in writing many of the films he was in, which I felt gave him a leg up over the likes of Chevy Chase, who seemed to be content to do whatever happened to come his way. (This is how a misfire like Under the Rainbow happens.) When the two of them teamed up for 1985's Spies Like Us (which Aykroyd conceived with the original intention of co-starring with Belushi), I was delighted to finally see how they would play off each other. (I didn't get to see any of their work together on Saturday Night Live until years later, so as far as my 12-year-old mind was concerned, Spies Like Us was the first meeting of their comedic minds.) And while I had yet to become a full-blown auteurist, I was aware that the director, John Landis, had also been the guiding force behind Animal House, The Blues Brothers, Trading Places and the first segment of Twilight Zone: The Movie (the prologue for which had featured Aykroyd). In short, I was ready-made to love Spies Like Us and love it I did. I even bought the 45 of Paul McCartney's theme song, which in all fairness shouldn't be considered an indication of its quality. After all, for a time I was also the proud owner of the single "City of Crime" from the movie Dragnet. (I'm sure that's something Tom Hanks would like to wish out of existence.)

(NOTE: I am going to kill the suspense immediately by telling you in the first sentence that I loved this film and watched it twice just in the process of preparing for this review.)

In case you haven't figured it out, Craig and I have been alternating movie picks for this project. (Yes, I am the one who selected Killer Klowns from Outer Space. Insisted on it, really. I don't remember why.) For my second pick, I wanted to choose something more prestigious because, after all, this is Oscar season. When I thought about respectable, award-caliber movies from the 1980s, my mind immediately went to David Lynch's The Elephant Man, a serious, fact-based 1980 drama whose DVD cover proudly announces the fact that it was "Nominated for 8 Academy Awards." It won none of those, but still... honor just to be nominated, right?

I was first introduced to this film -- no lie -- by Joe Bob Briggs, who showed The Elephant Man as part of his long-gone, much-missed TV series, MonsterVision, in the 1990s. Doesn't showing The Elephant Man on something called MonsterVision kind of miss the whole point? Not exactly. To me, The Elephant Man has the look and feel of one of the old Universal horror films. The ghosts of such Universal directors as James Whale and Tod Browning hover over The Elephant Man.

Joe Dante holds something of a rarefied place in film fandom since he's one of the dreamers who was able to break into the industry and put his own fantasies on the screen. He started out by writing reviews of genre films for fan magazines (which were later reprinted in Video Watchdog) and eventually got a job cutting trailers for Roger Corman's New World Pictures, which led to directing gigs like Hollywood Boulevard and Piranha. It was after he went out on his own to make The Howling that he was tapped by Steven Spielberg to direct one of the better segments of Twilight Zone: The Movie (the gonzo reimagining of "It's a Good Life") as well as Gremlins, which was such a major hit that it allowed him to develop a more personal project. That turned out to be 1985's Explorers, a feature-length wish-fulfillment fantasy for sci-fi geeks everywhere.

Best known today for marking the screen debuts of Ethan Hawke and River Phoenix, Explorers is mostly seen through the eyes of Hawke's pop-culture obsessive (obviously patterned after Dante), who gravitates to science fiction epics like War of the Worlds and This Island Earth, much like I was drawn to this film and watched it repeatedly when I was an impressionable young lad. Phoenix is much more down-to-earth, the rational proponent of science fact who is able to translate an image from Hawke's recurring flying dreams (which feature some Tron-like landscapes) into an actual circuit capable of creating a force field that he can control with his 128K Apple computer (an obvious hand-me-down from his computer-scientist father). To complete the trio they enlist gearhead Jason Presson, the product of a broken home who helps build and christen their spacecraft, the Thunder Road, which quite appropriately has a television screen as its main window. This is because when our three young explorers finally make it into space, they find that television has most emphatically preceded them.

Lots of science-fiction and horror films have been built around seemingly ridiculous high-concept gimmicks, particularly when it comes to totally improbable and impractical monsters. We've had killer elevators, killer laundry-folding machines, killer tomatoes, killer beds, killer penises, etc. What makes Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1988) so special is that the movie fully makes good on the promise of its extravagant title. If you want a rollicking, highly enjoyable movie about murderous extraterrestrial harlequins, look no further.

The Chiodo Brothers -- director Steven and his siblings Charles and Edward -- have worked together and separately on a variety of film and television projects for the last 20 years or so, generally as creature designers, puppeteers, and art directors. (All three toiled on Team America: World Police.) Killer Klowns is the Brothers' one big chance to run amok in a feature-length film, and they do not waste this golden opportunity. The film feels like the kind of thing a group of brothers might come up with in giggly, late-night brainstorming sessions.

STEVEN: So our villains are evil alien clowns, right?

EDWARD: (snorting) Yeah, and maybe their spaceship looks like a big circus tent!

CHARLES: And their weapons are popcorn and balloon animals! (sprays Mountain Dew out his nose)

If the movie can be reduced to a formula, it would be: The Blob times Gremlins minus the actual monsters from those movies minus budget plus clowns plus terrible sweaters plus Dean Wormer from Animal House. That's a lot to absorb, so let me break it down.

Greetings, Unloosen reader(s), and welcome to what promises to be a bright, shining and -- for lack of a better term -- new decade. According to Arthur C. Clarke, 2010 is the Year We Make Contact, which raises the hope that this will be the year that Unloosen reaches a wider readership. To that end, Joe Blevins and I have chosen to set aside the more esoteric fare that we're known for (so to speak) and start reviewing movies people have actually seen. And so we have settled on the storied decade known as the '80s, one which is beloved by countless VH1 commentators and is known for any of a number of high-profile motion pictures. Just don't think we're doing this out of some misplaced sense of nostalgia. Sure, most of the films that we plan on writing about on a biweekly basis (starting this Thursday) are ones that one or both of us saw -- in some cases, multiple times -- during our misspent youths, but we intend to look at them afresh with critical eyes. Will Johnny Dangerously be as funny as I thought it was before I reached puberty? Do the special effects in Weird Science hold up after two and a half decades? And does one really need to sit through Ghandi more than once in a lifetime? Stay tuned to find out.

Well, it just goes to show you can't get a good project down. As I write this, it has been close to 15 months since NBC took ratings-challenged horror series Fear Itself off the air in favor of the Summer Olympics (who are the programming wizards who made that decision?) and almost as long since Joe and I reviewed the putrid horror anthology Trapped Ashes as a way of sustaining interest in "Project: Fear Itself" until the Olympic Games were over and the show could be returned to the schedule. Alas, this was not to be for the five unaired episodes remained in NBC's vaults despite the perfect opportunity to burn them off that October, which by happenstance had five Thursdays in it (just as it did this year). It seemed we would have to wait for the inevitable DVD release to finish what we (and NBC) had started, which brings us to now.

Editor's Note: Since NBC's Fear Itself is on hiatus during the Summer Olympics, Joe Blevins and Craig J. Clark have taken it upon themselves to review the direct-to-video horror anthology Trapped Ashes, which was released on DVD in July, as a stopgap measure. Their observations follow.

My fellow freedom-lovers:

Let me set the scene for you, citizens. It's Friday night [August 8 -ed.], and I'm sitting on the couch in my apartment watching a movie called Trapped Ashes. Screwy title, huh? Sounds a bit like Slapped Asses, which would also be a pretty screwy title but would not sound quite as gloomy and high-toned as Trapped Ashes. I'd been watching the Opening Ceremonies from Beijing earlier in the evening, but the Parade of Nations soon got to be monotonous, a seemingly endless procession of people dressed up like Century 21 agents, smiling and waving to the crowd in the manner of hometown beauty queens. Snoo-zers! So I succumbed the siren song of Trapped Ashes, which comes billed as a gore-riffic horror anthology, just the thing to substitute for my beloved AWOL Fear Itself. Anyway, the disc starts with previews, and normally I would automatically skip those but I figure, "What the hell? All the better to recreate the true experience of seeing a real movie in a real theater. Let the trailers commence!"

Greg, don't let this happen to you. Seriously.

On a scale of 1 to Club 11, 40 Year Old Virgin gets a 7.

I have mixed feelings about this film. It’s a nice documentary, but there’s not much of a “movie” feeling to it. If you watch the National Geographic Channel on a big TV it’s nearly the same experience. Also, the pacing is intentionally deliberate. It’s understandable, but that allows my mind to wonder. I couldn’t stop thinking of the poor cinematographer who froze off his junk just to bring me the mating ritual of a beanie baby I once had. I also couldn’t help but wonder what the hell I was doing in that theater. What has happened to me? I used to enjoy things as men do. Yet, I just paid money to watch some French guy’s interpretation of penguins getting it on. That’s not good. Tonight I'll be drinking beer while watching porno. Don't want to turn queer. DE-FENSE! DE-FENSE! On a scale of 1 to Club 11, March of the Penguins gets a 7.

My wife thinks Johnny Depp is dreamy. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I think he looks like Captain EO. In spite of his appearance, Depp puts together another interesting performance, and Tim Burton (also in spite of his appearance) has given us a visual feast. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t have the same subtle insanity of the original. On a scale of 1 to Club11, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory gets a 7.

I’ve taken some heat recently for my review of Batman Begins. Some believe that I should take a more in-depth look at films rather than spew a rant. For those who share this opinion, bite me. I don’t feel the need to explain my art to you.

The only reason I bring this up, is because War Of The Worlds is so completely uninspiring that I don’t even have the passion for a rant. Your disappointment is tasty.

Spielberg has made another movie that starts well and goes nowhere (Saving Private Ryan, A.I., Minority Report...), and Tom Cruise has made another movie in which he runs. At least I wasn’t expecting much going into the theater. I was just hoping that it would be fun. It wasn't. If you’re going to make a disaster flick, at least make it fun.

On a scale of one to Club 11, War Of the Worlds gets a 4.

Who says Hollywood is in a slump? With Batman Begins the studios have outdone themselves. They didn’t just create a gay ninja flick. No, they figured out a way to make it a comic book prequel horror action movie with bad dialogue that only started as a gay ninja flick. Watching this convoluted piece of crap is one of the most unpleasant three hours I’ve spent in years, including my colonoscopy and Lord of The Rings. The theater was packed with chatty couples, crying babies with pagers, and morons laughing at the fodder (I hate people). But even with all of that, the movie was the worst part. It was that bad.

The acting and direction were fine, but the story and script were such a bastardized mix of focus group crap that it was well beyond saving. And the worst part was that I was expecting a good movie. The critics, and even some of my EX-friends, said this was an interesting character piece. Shame on you! I went in expecting a thoughtful journey into a tormented soul and I left with only a headache and a loathing for mankind. All I’m saying is don’t promise me the world and then dump on my face. On a scale of 1 to Club11, Batman Begins gets a 3.

We Star Wars fans have tried so hard to hide our disappointment over Episodes 1 & 2 that we’ve actually convinced ourselves that they didn’t suck. I even dishonored Club 11 by giving them positive reviews. For this, I am deeply sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I have no objectivity when it comes to Star Wars. I grew up on the originals and I wanted to be Luke Skywalker (and then Han Solo when I started growing pubes).

Today was my liberation day. I can now admit that the last two movies blew the solar wind because Lucas has finally delivered a film worthy of the "Star Wars" name. Episode III is dark, unrelenting, and heartbreaking. Most impressively, even with the end of the story exposed over 25 years ago, the film never once loses its intensity.

Unfortunately, Episode III is not without its faults. It still has some painful Lucas dialogue and a Frankenstein scene that makes one cringe. Yet, after the last two crapathons, the faults of this episode seem minor.

I can see why those with no attachment to Star Wars may not like this film. Obviously, they are all dirty communists and have no valuable input for our society. Any true American Star Wars fan will be happy and relieved that Lucas finished the series with a classic.

Living up to the expectations of dorks like me may have been the greatest challenge of Lucas’s career. It is now his greatest accomplishment. Thank you George. Thank you for having the balls to make everything right again. And thank you for making sure that 30 year old virgins can blame a woman for all of the problems in the Universe. BEST PREQUEL EVER! On a scale from 1 to Club 11, Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith gets a Club 11.

I know that my 5 or 6 loyal readers are hoping for me to make a glorious return to Club 11 by blasting some piece of self important crap. Unfortunately, I have grown since the days of Pork Pony. Years of domestication have chilled my hostility, and I no longer subject myself to movies that I know will make me vengeful (I now have politics for that). As a result, I don’t see many movies.

Fortunately for Club 11 fans, I never watched most of the movies that I reviewed anyway. Do you really need to see Hope Floats to know that it sucks? Also, my tremendous ego is still alive and well. I continue to believe that all films should be tailored to my individual tastes.

In this instance, if you want me to enjoy a movie with characters that have supernatural powers, it needs to be either silly or foreign. Kung Fu Hustle mixes the two, and therefore touches me deeply. It has all of the ass kicking fun of the original Matrix movie with none of the sci-fi loser crap. It’s heavenly. It also gives new meaning to the term “palm maneuver.”

Those of you waiting to hear me go off on the flavor of the month will have to wait until the ripe summer season. On a scale of 1 to club11, Kung Fu Hustle receives a Club 11.

I really didn't like the opening credits of this movie. They were kinda dull and had no stylistic relevance to the story. There's nothing I hate more than starting a train of thought and then dropping it for no apparent reason.

Signs is the type of film that Hollywood rarely makes anymore. It takes a simple approach to a complex issue, relying on pacing and acting rather than explosions and bootie. Not that there's anything wrong with either explosions or bootie, its just a nice change of pace.

Without ruining the ending of the film, don't go into the theater expecting The Sixth Sense. I was afraid that M. Knight Whatshisface was going to go all "queer" on us (industry term) and pull out some ridiculous ending. Instead, he relies on the subtleties of the films message to resolve the story. It may not be the ending that you want, but it's nice to know that he isn't just "yankin' your crank" (non-industry term). On a scale of 1 to Club11, Signs gets an 8.

The first 1 1/2 hours rocked! It had great action, an interesting story, and wonderful direction. It was Speilberg at his best. Unfortunately, he cocked it up.

Instead of making a dynamic story from a complex issue, Speilberg "dumbed down" the last 45 minutes to make it accessible to the cinematically challenged. I'm sure that this approach helped him at the box office, but people who love movies will be disappointed.

When you turn subtext into dialogue, you've taken the easy way out. Speilberg knows this, making the film all the more upsetting. When a great story is made into an average film, it's a failure no matter how much money it makes. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Minority Report gets a 6.

This movie was so uninspiring that I don't even have anything clever to say about it. I loved the first MIB, but the sequel seemed more like a parade of action figures than a coherent story. Will Smith put together a good performance, but he had absolutely no help. The characters were flat, the story was muddled, and film felt like a collection of meaningless scenes.

The trailers made this film look like it would at least be a lot of fun. Unfortunately, it was a tremendous bore. If they continue this saga, I sincerely hope that they focus more on the relationship between "J" & "K" and less on marketing toys with nuts on their chins. On a scale of 1 to Club11, MIB II gets a 4.

If I were still in 8th grade, this would be the greatest movie ever made (other than missing a gratuitous boobie shot). Austin 3 is filled with more disgusting humor than the first two movies combined, and not five minutes go by without a dick or fart joke. Obviously, I liked it a lot. Don't get me wrong, but this film won't win any awards that aren't distributed by MTV. The new villain, Goldmember, sucked and the story wasn't anything special... but damn it if I didn't laugh a lot.

Austin Powers 1 was a great movie. Austin 2 was fun, but it failed at trying to be like the first movie. Austin 3 is just plain retarded. Not bad retarded, good retarded. By not sticking to a coherent story like the first film, the Austin Powers series has reinvented itself. Mike Myers is a genius, and I'll gladly give him my $8 every couple of years to feel like a stupid kid again. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Austin Powers: Goldmember gets a 7.

From the makers of Fried Green Ovaries and Snow Falling On My Fallopian Tubes comes the new menopausal thriller, The Divine Secrets Of Ya Ya Sisterhood. Ladies, please don't ask your men to see this movie. Men, if you see this film, there are some things to be careful of: you may feel an uncontrollable urge to lay an egg. You may begin to crave pickles or chocolate. You may even begin lactating on your inner child. All of these symptoms are normal for a man forced to watch this crap.

I don't care if this movie is good. It's obviously not meant for me or anyone else who doesn't feel a pressing need to give birth. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, The Divine Secrets Of Ya Ya Sisterhood gets an egg-shaped 0.

The dryer at my apartment is a piece of shit. It takes at least two cycles to dry one load, and they raised the price to $.75 a cycle. That's $1.50 to dry each load! Worse still, since I ran it more than twice in one day, it began to smoke. My entire wardrobe now has a mesquite flavor that is hard to ignore. Tomorrow, I have to re-wash my clothes at the laundromat. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Juwanna Mann gets a 4.

Ba baaa, ba ba ba Star Wars ba ba ba Star Wars ba ba ba baaaa. As a 25 year old male, I'm required to give any Star Wars movie a Club 11 rating (yes, even Episode I). No matter how bad it is, I will love it. Fortunately, this film is actually worth seeing even for a casual Star Wars fan.

Episode II does have many of the same flaws as the other four movies. Mainly, the dialogue is awful. Also, Lucas isn't helping his virgin following with the ladies. Even fans who haven't had a date since Episode I will roll their eyes at how awkward this romance becomes.

Even with it's obvious problems, Episode II is still a kick ass flick. First of all, Yoda is an intergalactic pimp! There's no longer a question as to why he runs the show. Also, the art direction and set designs are some of the best that I have ever seen. Most importantly, however, Episode II isn't afraid of it's dark side (pardon the pun). The story is complex, and many of the characters show depth that is often missing from Star Wars films. If you can get through the nerdy dialogue, you will begin to see how well crafted the entire Star Wars saga really is.

After Episode I, I my expectations for the new trilogy plummeted. After Episode II, however, I now believe that the final Star Wars film, Episode III, may also become its best. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Star Wars Episode II gets a mandatory Club 11.

Boy, that rain sure was cold. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Spider-man gets an 8.

There isn't much to say about this film. It's Kevin Smith, it's very self aware, and it has a five minute long set up for a fart joke. If you can appreciate that, then your Citizen Kane has finally arrived. For added enjoyment, see it with your parents and watch them weep for your soul. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back gets a 7. Bong!

Since I can't bring myself to pay $9 to see Blade II, I'm going to begin renting movies that I might actually enjoy reviewing. Hopefully, these intermittent older reviews will help us all get through another long summer of crappy movies.

The first movie that I rented was Magnolia, a film that shakes the Club 11 rating to it's core. I want to give it a "9" because it's extremely well-done. The acting, directing, cinematography, and comedic timing are all phenomenal. With the exception of the character relation between the little boy and his father, I felt that this movie was flawless in it's execution. However, I also want to give Magnolia the first Club 11 "0" because it is absolutely pointless. People are dying, abused, and unhappy, and we get to watch for three hours. Surprisingly, it's not as much fun as it sounds.

For whom was this movie made? If you don't already know that horrible things happen in this world that affect the way people act, then chances are that you're not bright enough to tie your shoes, let alone appreciate this style of filmmaking. Strap on your protective helmet, put your head on your desk, and check out for the next 30 years because you are a moron. Also, if you are an intelligent person who enjoys spending three hours basking in the misery of those who have been subjected to a lifetime of abuse, then you too should wear a helmet. This will help to protect you from the thorough beating that you so very much deserve.

Ultimately, Magnolia proves my theory that some art is just stupid. After watching this film, Blade II is actually starting to sound pretty good. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Magnolia is pointless.

Honestly, you couldn't pay me to sit through this movie. Instead of jiggling her hooters in front of a giant neon Pepsi sign, Brittany Spears is shaking her self worth on the big screen. Why pay for the cow when she exposes herself for free? Besides, we all know that pop music movies reached perfection with Disorderlies, and, despite the title, Bone Thugs and Harmony have nothing to do with the musical score.

The release of Crossroads does, however, allow me to discuss a very important theory. Brittany Spears is not human. I assure you, the evidence is overwhelming and can no longer be ignored.

1) Alien eyes. If you take a good look at a close up of Brittany's eyes (yes, she has eyes), you will see that they are spaced very far apart. When superimposed against the cover of that Communion book, the theory begins to take shape.

2) The Magical Mystery Boobs. If you were going to send an alien to take over a planet, wouldn't you do it with a saucy temptress? Spears is a pop star with boobies that magically switch from an "A" to a "C." In her videos, she's packing heat, but in the previews for Crossroads, there is a profile shot of Brittany in a bikini where she is melonless.

3) The word on the street. I'm not the only one who knows that something just isn't right with Brittany. While shopping at Target one day, I passed a young girl who was being scolded by her mother. "I don't want to hear you call Brittany Spears a whale penis ever again!" shouted her mother. I salute that young girl for her bravery in questioning the status quo.

Whether Spears is a whale penis or an alien, I will continue to fight for the truth. On a scale of one to Club 11, Crossroads gets a 2 (one for each of it's stars).

Bone bone bone bone bone, bone bone.

Finally, someone tackled the difficult subject of early 1900's British snobbery. I'm not really sure if British food or British humor is more plain, but strangely enough, I'm drawn to both.

Gosford Park is kinda like Clue on quaaludes. It is a beautifully made mystery with enough plot twists to keep you interested (and slightly confused) until the very end. Maggie Smith is brilliant, and Robert Altman does a wonderful job of directing. Not only is Altman's mastery of character development very impressive, but he is also able to use the word "fag" in a completely innocent way. What an auteur. On a scale of 1 to Club 11, Gosford Park gets a 9.

I know that everyone will be disappointed, but I don't have anything bad to say about Moulin Rouge. I have a massive film ego, so I'm always impressed when I see a film that I'm not talented enough to make. Baz Luhrmann did an amazing job, and I feel very strongly that he should have been nominated for a "Best Director" Oscar.

I'm not even gay and I loved this musical. The explosion of color, music, & Shakespearean tragedy was enough to leave me awestruck. I think that my friends said it best when they described the experience as being hit over the head by a loud velvet hammer. That may sound odd, but anyone who has seen the film knows exactly what they mean. Hopefully, for the sequel, they will throw in a little P. Diddy and possibly the "Hey Mickey" song. On a scale of 1 to Club11, Moulin Rouge gets a CLUB11.

I'm not sure, but I think that this movie has something to do with Dawson. On a scale from 1 to Club11, my sister gives A Walk To Remember a 6.

Neeeeerrrrrrrrrdddddddssssss! Will somebody just throw the friggin' ring into the volcano and end this damn thing! I hated this movie with a passion that I rarely feel for movies. I even hated the people in the theater who didn't hate it. I felt like I was being forced to watch that Marines commercial for about three hours, and I was actually praying for a game of Magic to break out so that I'd have something else to watch.

I know that 2001 sucked in every way imaginable, but I honestly can't believe that this film is being recognized as one of the best films of the year. How hard was it to tell this story? Didn't anyone see a pattern? A) Computer generated landscape of Dorkville B) Discussion about how we are torn between loving and hating the ring C) Fight scene Repeat for 3 damn hours.

Since I hadn't read any of the books prior to seeing the film, Lord of the Rings offered me nothing for the first 2 1/2 hours. I never cared about the characters because I never got a chance to know them. All conflict seemed to be predetermined by the evil of the ring. It wasn't until the final half hour that characters made choices of their own free will, finally allowing us a glimpse at their true nature.

This film, however, did have several laughs. The fact that the wizard's only power seemed to be to tell everyone to "run" was very amusing. (Honestly, he gets his ass kicked by another old wizard, runs away whenever there's danger, and when he finally did do some magic, his cane turned into a sparkler. Big freakin' deal.) Also, because this movie had more glory shots than your average porno film, I found the redundancy of these sweeping shots to be very amusing by hour three. But the funniest moment in Lord of the Rings had to be when Frito Bag got stabbed for the second time and they show his reaction in slo-mo. I swear, it looked like the dwarf was taking a dump. On a scale of 1 to Club11, Lord of the Rings gets a 3.

Why is playing a SPED the key to winning an Oscar? How hard can it be? I talk to myself all the time. Also, will somebody please tell Opie to stop spinning the damn camera! When you rotate the camera in back to back scenes, it's not dramatic, it's annoying.

Ultimately, A Beautiful Mind is a good movie that pissed me off. It has great acting, beautiful music, and a really interesting subject. But instead of taking risks, it relies on standard story conventions to tug at your heartstrings. As a result, it gets sappy, repetitive, and it oversimplifies what must be a horrible affliction.

Russell Crowe was much better in The Insider, but because he twitches and stutters in A Beautiful Mind, he'll win the Oscar. That's retarded. If you really want to take a journey into the mind of the mentally ill, watch Mulholland Drive. That movie had the balls to be crazy. On a scale from 1 to Club11, A Beautiful Mind gets a 7 1/2.

Which is more entertaining? A. Watching this movie B. Laughing at the lady in the Capri pants who keeps bitching about how she "doesn't get it?"

Which is more revealing? A. Knowing that this is the funniest movie that I've seen all year. B. Realizing that most people don't understand why.

I could feel sorry for the wench in the fourth row who doesn't understand why this movie is so funny. I could, but the hard truth is that I want to be her. Not so much or the fact that she's a woman, but more for the fact that she seems to have much simpler tastes.

I wish that I could summon a belly laugh when Becker calls his patients "morons," or when I receive forwards about Bin Laden... but I can't. My sense of humor has been so horribly warped that I have to resort to movies like The Royal Tennanbaums to make me laugh. Sadly, I didn't even like the movie all that much. Gene Hackman was brilliant and I laughed a lot, but the constant back and forth between ridiculous and serious gave me the runs.

Well, I guess this is my lot in life. Instead of enjoying reruns of The Fresh Prince, I'm stuck hunting for movies made by weirdoes... movies that will further isolate me from those I hold dear. Damn those who did this to me! Damn you PorkPony! Instead of making fun of you, I have become you. You suck the royal tennanbaum. On a scale from 1 to Club11, The Royal Tennanbaums gets a 7 1/2.