Long Lost Uncle

In another life, Tom Waits was a drunken uncle of mine who showed up to Thanksgiving, arguing politics.

I'm Sorry, What?

My short review: Witchcraft. Kung-Fu. Jet Packs. Midgets.

Do what?

Technology vs. Horse

"I'm putting in a chase sequence. So the killer flees on horseback with the girl, the cop's after them on a motorcycle and it's like a battle between motors and horses, like technology.... vs. horse."

I want to write something this brilliant one day.

Let's Get Together

Watching Parent Trap last night reminded me of what it was like watching this as a little girl. That powerful moment when you realize that there's only one Halley Mills. Movie magic had me believe that she had a twin. She does not!

Even as a little girl, I felt a certain twang of sadness upon realizing this fact. They looked like they had so much fun together! I remember my dad explaining the use of trick photography to me. Much to my protesting, I wasn't able to reason out why Hollywood could do such a thing.

Even though I would go on to watch Parent Trap over and over, I somehow couldn't quite jump that hurdle of acceptance. Wasn't Halley Mills totally depressed at the end of this film realizing she didn't have a twin who was also her best friend? I would've been.

Thanks, Hollywood. I'm going to go talk to myself in the mirror now. Try that duet on for size.

What's the Deal, Ramis?

It's been a long time since I made it a point of seeing a movie on opening night. The vain promise of the next buddy-film Superbad had me chomping at the bit for another harmless hands free comedy. Year One, however, left something to be desired. Strike that, I'll just say it. It was awful.

We follow Zed (Jack Black) and Oh (Michael Cera) on their even-absurd-for-fiction journey through the ancient biblical fables of the desert. One bad hunter and one bad gatherer do not equal comedy gold, unfortunately. To challenge the notion of their useless villager facades, Zed and Oh attempt to rescue their love interests from the clutches of slavery.

The cameos you hoped would float the plot only work against itself. Zed and Oh soon stumble upon Cain and Able. Able (Paul Rudd) is killed off in less than five minutes while Cain (David Cross) is somehow found at every stop along the way providing useless commentary and continually making reference to a joke that died well into the second act.

And yup, you guessed it, that dorky McLovin' appears as a biblical version of that dorky McLovin'. It was, I believe, at this point I began to accept that the movie just wasn't going to get any better. Abraham (Hank Azaria) managed to provide fuel for the only laugh the movie got out of me with a snarky remark regarding circumcision.

One stop at Sodom and Gomorrah later, we've reached the climax of the film. Add a dash of a creepy High Priest, a touch of a hot princess waiting to rule, and the threat of Oh's love interest burning as a virginal sacrafice and you've got a biblical mutiny on your hands.

I won't spoil the ending, but come on...they win.

Perhaps it's unfair to judge the plot of any buddy-comedy. It seems they all tend to work off the same blue prints... Guy loses girl, guy works to get girl back, guy makes hilarious observations along the way while meeting other hilarious acquaintances, guy gets girl. I'm fully satisfied with the way these comedies tend their course. What I'm not satisfied with, is the laziness on the writers behalf.

It begs the question: What's the deal, Ramis? I've waited for your comeback. You gave us Ghostbusters, you gave us Groundhog Day. All this time I've been expecting you to be cooking up the next big comedy. I know Michael Cera and Jack Black are the newest go-to in comedy gems, but you could've stretched your horizons a tad more.

I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Harold. But next time I want to see less talk more rock.

Rain, Rain, Shoot Me in the Face.

It's been two weeks and this rain hasn't stopped falling. Either the earth really needs this moisture or nature is just out to coax me into a submissive and dismal ball of misery.

Ball of Hellfire

Purchased for Father's Day: Nun Bowling. What dad wouldn't want ten nun pins and a ball of hellfire?

Upon further inspection, I noticed that my set didn't come with the ball of hellfire. Here's a question for you: Do I take it back? If so, what is the polite way to phrase their mistake?

I can't really ask my dad to bowl without the ball of hellfire. It wouldn't be right.

Oh, Hey.

The Salad I Didn't Know I Wanted

While New York City may be known for its lousy service, New York City delis are of another breed entirely. While exploring my new work neighborhood in search of the perfect salad, I found a deli that seems to pride itself on its multi-tasking.

Delis that offer a 'Build your own salad" bar have always intimidated me. First of all, you're not building your own. You're telling someone else to pick up your chosen vegetables and mix them together for you. There's always a line of people waiting behind you, ready to pounce on their crisp accoutrement of choice.

Before I've even handed over my plastic container of untainted spinach, they're already asking me what I want.

"Uh, chicken--"

"Yes?"

"Cherry toma--"

"Yes?"

"Uh...Uh... Chees---"

"Yes?"

"Green pepp--"

"Yes?"

"Uh--"

"Yes?"

"Wait, I--"

"Yes?"

Before you even have the choices out of your mouth, they're throwing it into the large silver bowl with tongs. And the choices are overwhelming. Before I knew it, I was debating between hot tamales and grape leaves. All of a sudden I've reached the vegetable finish line. There's no going back. The salad attendant has flung the bowl at the next attendant who's waiting with a curved blade.

The guy with the blade dumps your salad out begins hacking it into little pieces. I mean, just really going for it. Everything you've just ordered has been diced into vegetable confetti and placed back inside the plastic container you started with, then thrown at the next salad attendant. The next guy then puts your dressing of choice on and mixes it for the second time.

Finally. Salad confetti. I made eye contact with a guy in line in front of me who looked equally perplexed and overwhelmed by this process. All I could say to him was, "I'm freaking out."

Alas, my $10 dollar salad proved to be fresh and delicious. Who knew it took battling a panic attack to get a good salad in this town?

The Best Part of My Day

Township to the Stage: A Comic Journey

Greg's buddy from college is finishing up film school at USC. The following is a promo of his thesis: "Township to the Stage: A Comic Journey." It's following stand up comedians from South Africa.

Check out this awesome project and if you're so inclinded, you can donate!

Township to the Stage: A Comic Journey - Promo from David Meyer on Vimeo.

More Fun Than Food Poisoning

Okay, Oscar, I get it... I should have seen these films when you said they were worth watching. Maybe if I had, I would've been more inclined to join the others in favoring it.

In the past week, I sat down to watch Rachel Getting Married and a few days later to watch Revolutionary Road. Aside from the general sense that I should no longer be living, they were great movies.


Considering I spent four hours of my past week, right on the edge of despair, I don't know that I can muster up enough concentration and emotion to give a decent review on each. So I'll keep it simple.

Rachel Getting Married -- Anne Hathaway deserved every bit of recognition for her portrayal of a recovering drug addict trying to make amends with her family during an emotional weekend of nuptials.

Verite style cameras really helped capture to immediate emotions that pushed this story along. Any second, I expected Anne Hathaway's skin to come apart. Aside from the heartbreaking jaunts down the most miserable memory lane ever written, and the quirky wedding guests that seemed to crawl out of the fictional woodwork, it was a lovely ceremony.

Revolutionary Road-- Richard Yate's epic novel was one of my favorite's in college. How it came to warrant a screen debut, I don't know, I'm still perplexed. One of the greatest challenges of translating a novel to a film is being able to incorporate all of the back story and subtle details that filled the pages and outlined the characters in the book.

Add a dash of two renowned actors, it still doesn't help fill in the gaps of sour American Dream heartache that the book held. I thought surely Sam Mendes would add a little pizazz to this piece, but I came away with absolutely nothing. Like the book, the movie is straight forward and unbelievably honest. It still holds true to the end, with a no resolution and zero pay off. If I had cared more about the onscreen characters, maybe I would've raised more of a fuss when the picture abruptly faded to black. Honestly, I was just glad it was over.

I still have one more Oscar pick to view... The Wrestler. If the credits roll and I still want to jump out of the window, I think I'm going back to involving myself in straightforward 90's romcom's for the rest of my days.

"When the cool night shakes you like a chandelier..."

Dear Friends,

Wilco has a new album due to hit shelves June 30th. They were streaming their album on their website for awhile. I'm not sure if it's my computer that can't take happiness anymore, but don't know that it's still streaming. Regardless, you can get a listen to one of my favorite's here.

That little duet you're listening to is between Jeff Tweedy and Feist. I don't care if you think it's just too cute, I think it's just too awesome. The closer it gets to the end of the album, the more it begins to sound like a promise to a lover. Each song, upon Katie's review, becomes epic. "Country's Disappeared" and "I'll Fight" especially.

Take a listen. Fall in love.

Oh, To Be 18 Again and Constantly Alert

This weekend, I gained a lot of insight as to why I'm not 18 anymore. For starters, beer hurts now. Staying awake past 3am: also painful. These days I'm perfectly content to end my nights by midnight in the presence of comfortable pants.

It was only fitting that I sit down to finally watch Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. I was interested in this movie when it was out in theaters. But one of the drawbacks, (or benefits?) of no longer being a teenager, is the ability to prioritize where my hard earned paychecks go. I learned that lesson when I paid $12 to be completely and dismally let down by last Indiana Jones.

Nick and Norah proved both to be entertaining and thoughtless. If I were 18, I would've been all over this movie. From the heartbreak and immense angst over a relationship that you're not suited for, to the complimentary meandering and sweet nature to be found in an often overlooked counterpart; we can all relate to why being 18 was terrible and wonderful.

I was able to overlook the seemingly ridiculous way in which the pacing of this movie deliciously fell into step. Anytime there was a problem presented, a phone rang immediately with a solution. If you're able to blindly accept the ironic and sweet way the characters took part in an Easter egg hunt around Manhattan, all for separate yet equal hunts, you'll be fine. Lest I forget, this wasn't written for me. It was written for my 18 year old self.

In fact, this exact scenerio was something I'd probably wished would happen to me at 18. A chance to tag along with a dopey yet attractive scraggly-haired male to discuss our favorite music all while he discovered the beauty I was too blind to discover in myself. I think I wrote this and I think Time Travelers have stolen this from me.

I don't know that I'd recommend Nick and Norah to anyone other than a girl who's bent on spending an evening alone, followed by a hefty read-through of an old journal from high school. Regardless, it's had me thinking quite a lot about my inefficiency to churn out stellar mix tapes. An art that I have, tragically, not carried with me into my, (ahem) late twenties.

Basically, Nick and Norah just adds to the already growing number of teenage flicks that prove that the dorky guys really do get the girls in the end. Keep it up, dorks. You're making us old folk look good.

"You Sure Do Kiss Like a Cowboy!"

Last night, we gathered around the television to take part in our newly functioning Bad Movie Night Club. This club is just getting off the ground, with such hits as Silent Night, Deadly Night and Doctor Detroit starring a young Dan Akroyd.

This time around, we went with something slightly more iconic than the norm. I'm assuming we're all aware of the street tough Sylvester Stallone and the triple-threat herself, Dolly Parton? They team up in biggest flop of '84 to create the masterpiece Rhinestone.

Jake Farris (Parton) finds herself desperate to break her music contract with her sleazy club owner, (played by Ron Leibman, best remembered for his role as Rachel Green's dad on Friends.) The owner will do anything to keep his money making songstress in his clutches, until she up's the stakes with a bet. Jake boasts that she can turn anyone, she means anyone, into the next hit country music sensation. If she wins, she gets to break her contract. If she loses, she has to finish out her contract, tack on five extra years of servitude and allow her manager to have his way with her in the sack.

The manager picks out rough and tough cab driver Nick Martinelli (Stallone) as her next protege. As seemingly monolithic as he is and as determined to never step outside of the boundaries of the five boroughs, Nick easily agrees to let Dolly shape him into a country music sensation. What you think would be a simple "Eliza Doolittle gets a cowboy hat" story, it quickly becomes the musical journey of a New York man defending his state's honor by channeling the down home nature of Tennessee state.

This was no simple story. Rhinestone contains layers upon layers of back story, relationship struggles, gender, family ties, loyalty and stereotypes all with musical accompaniment. But the main message I seemed to pick out of this cinemagraphic hodpodge, was the issue of North vs. South. How many stereotypes can these writers, (ahem, including Stallone) make in such a short amount of time? Answer: Quite a few.

From Nick's Italian, speghetti-eating family, ("Papa lov'a da' meat-a-balls!") to Jake's toothless neighbors, we are face to face with a war yet to be settled and only music can pave the resolution. Featuring the hit song, "Stay Outta My Bedroom" and the dark and unsettling gem, "God Won't Get Ya," Dolly really spreads her wings to let us inside.

The film can basically be categorized as having two separate climaxes and lessons. Act 1: Defending the honor of your heritage through the power of music. Act 2: Coping with overnight fame and defending the honor of your lover. As you can imagine, Nick and Jake win at both music and love.

The final interpretation I'll make is this: North and South prove friends as made evidence by the final climax of the film. Stallone dresses as a shimmering silver cowboy and rides a galliant white horse through the streets of Manhattan to reclaim his love. City vs. Country meet in the middle long enough for the heartfelt duet, "Be There;" the perfect blend of what we love about both.

Proving, yet again, that love really does conquer all, Rhinestone will go down in my book as another optimistic jaunt through life. Only this time, Dolly made it look good.