Oh, no. He did it again.

Angels and Demons-Tom Hanks, Ewan McGregor

Director-Ron Howard



SEE?


Okay, sure. It's my own fault. I saw The Da Vinci Code. I even read the book. Did not like either one. So why, you ask, would I go see Angels and Demons? Same author. Same star. Same basic religious mystery premise. Did I go simply to have fodder to write about? Did I lose my long term memory of the previous movie experience? Did someone put a gun to my head and force me? Nope. I went to see this movie because it was free; I had the time; and everyone deserves a second chance. Even Dan Brown. And guess what. I didn't look at my watch! Not once. Okay. I didn't wear a watch. Still. I was reasonably entertained for the price I paid despite the fact that Robert Langdon is perhaps the most boring hero ever brought to the screen. Honestly. Couldn't you guys incorporate cross-dressing or a cocaine habit or being a serial killer into this role? Anything to make Robert Langdon interesting. Or was that too much of a stretch for Tom and Ron? Vanilla sauce on your vanilla ice cream? Okay, there's nothing wrong with playing a normal guy, but when enough people are getting mutilated, drowned and burned to make even Bloody Mary (look it up, people) cringe, even a normal guy oughta take a step back and have a drink or a snort or some sex. Am I wrong?

Hear me out about the boring part. We don't know anything about this guy other than he is a professor of an obscure subject who writes little known books and is forever entangled with the Catholic Church although he doesn't even believe in God. Okay, maybe we know a little bit about him, but still, is he married? Does he wear boxers or briefs? Does he have kids? Does his have a vacation home I can sublet? Give me a reason to care if he lives or dies-other than I really hope he gets into the Vatican's secret vaults so he can finish yet another book that no one will read. I guess we just have to go with the Tom Hanks card. (What's that, you ask?) Tom Hanks is a really nice guy; therefore, the audience must not see him die or do anything mildly controversial. Maybe I'm making that up.

On the other side of the spectrum from being absurdly boring, we have just plain absurd. How many more movies will subject us to mystery after mystery being revealed through inane or obscure clues that no professor could possibly unearth no matter how brilliant he or she is? (Thank you Nicholas Cage for popularizing this trend.) I mean , Tom, the centuries-old angels are pointing the right direction to find the Vatican's missing priests? Really? Even you had to find that a bit of a stretch. Oh, and I'm not even going to justify the superconducter antimatter bomb subplot by joking about it. Sure it drives our timeline, but wouldn't a regular bomb or a dirty bomb work just as well?



EAT.


The man's in Italy for 24 hours. He doesn't eat and neither should you.





SHOP.




Just when you thought you were out, he pulls you back in. Oh, no, ladies and gentleman-Dan Brown is not done with Robert Langdon, the world's most drab protagonist. The Lost Symbol, a new Dan Brown novel, will be released in September. (Remember it's not about the book, it's about the movie. Heaven help us. Oh wait, heaven let us live through these first two movies.) Look for it if you dare. Maybe the angels will point you in the right direction.

What was old is new again.

Star Trek-Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto




Director-J.J. Abrams

Spoiler Alert!!



SEE.







The nice thing about having low expectations is that you are usually pleasantly surprised. As I was here. Not as kitschy as your father's Star Trek is how I would describe this film. The story (a simple revenge tale, nothing extravagant) fairly well told. By fairly well told, I mean that the we, the audience, genuinely want to see what happens, not because of the history of the franchise, but because the initial setup creates interest in our lead characters. (No. Movies do not always accomplish that part.) This story also turns what we know about Star Trek on it's head-Spock as captain?! What the hell! (Sadly, Zachary Quinto is not quite as cool as Leonard Nimoy, but thanks to that tricky space-time continuum,we get to enjoy the nuanced eyebrow-arching of Nimoy as well.) Now let the photon torpedoes fly. But first, a word from our casting office.



Chris Pine as William Shatner, um...I mean as James T. Kirk actually surprised me a bit. I won't lie. I was thinking just another pretty face. In fact, this movie was dubbed Star Trek: 90210 by some of my geekier friends (Sorry, boys. You know who you are.) Frankly, Mr. Pine left me a bit cold after his work in Bottleneck. Yet in Star Trek, Pine exhibits rather astute comic timing and a Steve McQueenish charm that make him a much more appealing Kirk than I would have ever imagined. Low expectations lead to surprisingly positive results. Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about the dramatic moments, however. This is Star Trek for cryin' out loud not Hamlet (Nope. No Jean-Luc Picard in this one. Sorry, people.)

But enough glowing reviews. It's not all roses. Why, for example, in the whole wide universe would any nation, nevermind an entire planet give up their defenses for a few lousy spaceships? Kinda sucks when all the spaceships leave your planet and get destroyed, don'tcha think? Maybe you should have a backup plan just in case an alien from the future comes back in time to destroy your homeworld. I know, I know. You can't plan for every contingency, but you can try.

Finally, a word about villains. Again, as you know, I am very particular about my villains. There will never be a Star Trek villain as ruthless and menacing as Ricardo Montalban's Khan. (I personally attribute his menace to his curious accent.) I love Eric Bana, but it's just too hard to induce empathy as a villain if the explanation for your revenge-seeking is left too late in the story. It is too hard to create a visceral desire to see the villain destroyed if the guy who should want to destroy him doesn't quite seem to care. For some strange reason, Spock gets all the play here. "Oh, Nero destroyed my homeworld. Oh, I don't know how to control these all too human emotions that have supplanted the Vulcan control I've known all my life." Boo hoo.

Hello? What about Kirk? Nero does kill Kirk's father after all (albeit when he's a newborn.) Yet, Kirk just doesn't seem as motivated by a desire to see his father's murderer brought to justice. He'd rather punch people and make cute jokes, I guess. What the hell? You almost want to see Spock inherit the Enterprise instead of Kirk. I blame all of this on the villain. If you have a truly hateable villain, it all falls into place. I don't care if you shave Eric Bana's head and tattoo his whole body, he's still not hateable (except in Hulk.) Better luck with the villain next time, J.J. Maybe pull a page out of Alias.

EAT.

Yeah. There's a Star Trek Cookbook. Not the cool Star trek though. This one is conjured up by Ethan Phillips (of Star Trek Voyager fame as well as Benson) and William J. Birnes (I don't know what he is famous for.) No, I don't think you're really gonna cook from this book, but if you're feeling super spacegeeky check out http://www.sfsite.com/03a/cook52.htm.

SHOP.

So, J.J., what gives? You go from a kickass female heroine on Alias to a gaggle of not particularly interesting mini-skirt wearing chicks who are marginally intellectual. Gee, thanks. Um, did these chicks not go to the same Starfleet Academy that the boys who get to jump out of spaceships and enter a planet's atmosphere went to? (Jump from a spaceship? Enter a planet's atmosphere? In spacesuits? I don't think so.) I'm truly disappointed, J.J. Just for that failure to execute, I'm going to suggest you buy season one of Star Trek: The Next Generation. The season of Deanna Troi walking around in that way too short skirt trying to empathize (or whatever her talent was) with people. Poor girl was probably freezing out there in space with no clothes on. Suffer, J.J., suffer. And then realize why God (and the Next Generation costume department) created pants.

Ghosts of Movies Past

Ghosts of Girlfriends Past-Matthew McConaughey, Jennifer Garner


SEE.



Matthew McConaughey was put here on earth to teach me how to love. (Sadly, he does not know that. Yet.) Sure Tom Hanks was the king of romantic comedy in the eighties but Tom doesn't sport those fabulous Lone Star abs, anymore now, does he? Matthew's romantic comedy style seems perpetually hitched to the idea of a guy with serious flaws who meets the "one," and is, subsequently, dragged kicking and screaming to a happy life of true love. That may be why I watch these films over and over. I, too, need to overcome something in me that resists love. (Mostly the fact the Matthew is not available to me, I think.) No matter how stupid the premise or poorly executed his films are, I always have something to learn from him about how to open myself up to love. And let's face it, he ain't a bad teacher to have. Although, sadly, I don't recall McConaughey giving us a full-on view of his abs in this one.



Enough about abs. Ghosts is actually creatively executed despite some blandness of spirit. Jennifer Garner does that strange and painful looking "shoulders back, chest forward" alien-like walk that she does. Alas, she doesn't sparkle like she did in Thirteen Going on Thirty. Perhaps, because Garner doesn't believe that a man who has slept with enough women to rival Wilt Chamberlain will change his ways, settle down with "the one," and stay faithful! (Forgive me, I'm a cynic). I'd say that ranks right up there with me being more likely to be hit by lightning than get married at my age.


Still, there are more than a few bright spots in the picture. For what it's worth, Breckin Meyer actually pulls off a fairly touching speech about brotherly love (still no substitute for Matthew's abs.) But the true star of this vehicle is Michael Douglas. (Anne Archer and Robert Forster are pretty much wasted here.) Few men can pull off seventies-era chauvinism with style and humor that makes it seem almost charming instead of humiliating and demeaning to women. I said almost. I mean no one actually operates like that in real life, right? Riiiight. Anyway, what I learned from about how to love from Mr. McConaughey is to continue to withhold sex until the bastard marries you or gives up and leaves. Love is war, people. Love is war.



EAT.




What is with wedding cakes? Are they really the be all and end all of a wedding? What if you just didn't have one? Go with frozen yogurt instead. Okay, clearly I've never been a bride. Still, what are you gonna do if the largest, most frightening looking wedding cake known to man gets destroyed by a cynical womanizer who doesn't believe in love? Well, before you kill the bastard, visit http://www.wedaholic.com/archives/discover_great_alternatives_to_the_traditional_wedding_cake.php.
You might just thank him instead.




SHOP.




How about a winter coat, Matthew? Sure you look great in a leather jacket and that frou-frou scarf, but seriously?! It's thirty below. There are snow drifts. Be realistic. Rico Suave doesn't live here. Dress appropriately. In the real world, a man dressed like that in winter in the northeast would have hypothermia. In fact, that may explain the delusions about ghosts of girlfriends past that Matthew was experiencing in the film. A warm winter coat might have saved everybody a lot of grief. http://www.bluefly.com/Designer-Mens-Coats-Jackets/_/N-7q6/list.fly?referer=Rgoogle&cm_mmc=EF-_-Google-_-Out_G_A_M-_-Mens_Winter_Coats&ef_id=1852:3:s_a2674e6c1d7ab1166141cb9635b49e1a_2528779568:PBCfLdB6MjYAADSiNrkAAAAC:20090525055351
And, they're on sale 'cause not all of us can have extremely wealthy relatives and be successful fashion photographers. Capiche, screenwriter-types?

Music Man

The Soloist- Jaime Foxx, Robert Downey, Jr.





SEE.






Picture a moving tableau of Los Angeles with a semi-linear storyline about an L.A. Times writer (Robert Downey, Jr.) who stumbles across a homeless schizophrenic named Nathaniel Ayers (Jaime Foxx) who just happens to be a talented classical cellist. The day-to-day details about Los Angeles as observed by British director Joe Wright are interesting. At least they were to me. What people tend to see when they look at this city are the big, beautiful areas like Malibu and Beverly Hills. Or else the really scary areas like Malibu or Beverly Hills. Nobody looks at the simple beauty of a newspaper being delivered in Echo Park at 5 in the morning. The view of Dodger Stadium through the palm trees. The diverse mess that is the "new' downtown which is still plagued by unbelievable condition of the city's homeless population. Wright touches on all of these things as well as the complexity of trying to help a single individual who possesses a, perhaps, singular talent when thousands upon thousands of people still need help. And what do you when that one special person does not want the help he needs to function "normally" in society?





Who knows? I'm a person who likes answers. Sure. It should be a great story. Ayers, a former Julliard student whose mental illness robs him of what could have been a promising musical career, roams the streets of downtown L.A. dressed like a wizard from the black version of Harry Potter. However, there are no answers to schizophrenia. Is there a trigger in Nathaniel Ayers past that we can point to as the root cause of his illness? (Not really unless you count having a semi-comfortable basement room as a bedroom and watching a flaming tire rolling by a window because of a riot.) Nothing in Ayers' life is illuminated by the film and that leaves me feeling kind of empty and helpless, the way Steve Gomez probably felt when he realized that Nathaniel Ayers was never going to get better. At least not the way he wanted him to.




I also have to wonder, despite generally addressing the city's alleged commitment to helping the homeless (actually a Guiliani style roundup of the homeless haunts of downtown), is this a story about a helping someone whose "worthy" of saving because of his talent as opposed to helping the thousands of homeless people with nothing redeemable about their lives except that they are human beings? Don't look for an answer here. None to give.

EAT.

Watching these characters interact on the mean streets of downtown L.A. made me think...hmmmm...anyone outside of Los Angeles watching this movie will never...ever...come to downtown L.A. "There are crazy homeless people playing cellos with only one string. I'm never going there!" Well, too bad for you chickens 'cause there's a lot of good eatin' if you can pick your way around the homeless. What I loved most about this movie was the perspective on downtown L.A. (from the ground not by helicopter) and, nearby Echo Park. The Pershing Square of the movie is a little scarier than I remember, but, hey, all good things have a price. Come to downtown. Surf these sites for the ultimate dining experience in downtown L.A. -
http://www.losangeles.com/restaurants/ or http://los.angeles.diningguide/. Eat, drink and be wary.

SHOP.

The real Nathanial Ayers plays a lot of instruments despite what some might call a debilitating mental illness. Most of us who are "right in the head," however, cannot. With a lot of free time and practice, however, you, too, could play Beethoven. (Not really. But hope springs eternal.) To get you started on your musical journey, I suggest you read two books. Don't just go out and buy that electric guitar you been fantasizing about since your were sixteen. That would just be crazy. Read Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. This book supports a theory that "greatness" whether musical, athletic, financial or intellectual begins from an individual's disciplined approach to practicing his or her craft. For years. Also, pick up Practicing: A Musician's Return to Music by Glenn Kurtz, a memoir about a musician's fall from and return to classical guitar buffeted by the discipline and commitment of merely practicing the instrument. Through practice, Kurtz's finds a new definition of musical success not predicated on the ego of supposed innate giftedness. Who knew being musical could be that simple? Certainly, not Nathaniel Ayers.

Never say die.

X-Men: Origins-Hugh Jackman, Liev Schrieber, Danny Huston





SEE.







Sorry, people, but we all know that Hugh Jackman's Wolverine was the best thing about the X-Men series. That movie made Hugh Jackman after all. At least it did here in the United States. So, my question is, "Do I really care about the origins of the other X-Men characters?" Nope. Maybe some other comic book fanatics might argue that there are oodles of X-Men heroes to explore but as a non-comic book fan who was totally drawn in by his character, I say "bull-puckey." Yeah, you heard me. Wolverine is the s**t, and while I'm not digging his new CGI claws, I still like his the story (Simple. You know me.) I like his brother-the big, bad wolf-played by Liev Schreiber. The movie's problems only surface when other mutants are introduced to us and then quickly dispatched to get back to the Wolverine story which is the reason we all came to the theater.





Maybe I want to get to know Gambit or Wade Wilson (Wade is getting his own

X-Men movie-Deadpool.) But, nooooo, this is Wolverine's story. I'll just have to wait for the sequels/prequels/spinoffs and, believe me, they are being developed faster than you can say box office receipts. Look on your IMDBpro, you freaks! Wolverine 2 and Magneto are already lining up to pick your pocket. (No offense but the guy playing Magneto better be freakin' hot to hold my interest.) Anyway, as far as this movie goes, I was entertained if not enthralled. There certainly were twists and turns in the plot but still, at base, this is just a good ol' revenge tale. Who doesn't like that kind of story? My question is who decided that the only element that could debilitate Wolverine is named after either an eighties pop-star or a cartoon character. (Yes. There may an actual debate about this somewhere. I'm going with eighties pop-star.) Adamantium.?Really?! I'll leave it at that.








EAT.








Mutants are people, too. They eat what you eat. I think.








SHOP.








Wolverine, as the name suggests, has wolf-like tendencies-creepy claws, fangs, an overabundance of facial hair- but, he also does not (apparently) age or die. I don't know how Hugh Jackman plans to pull that off for the next ten years while he makes sequels to these movies. I mean, sure, he's a good looking guy, but he ain't Dick Clark.





My recommendation, some serious anti-aging cream. Rub on http://www.wrinklecreamreviews.com/. Beauty ain't forever, Wolverine! I mean we aren't making Harry Potter, are we now?

State of Play-Russell Crowe, Rachel McAdams, Ben Affleck



SEE.



I'm one of five people in the U.S. who knows this was a British miniseries first. I didn't get through that whole miniseries (sorry, BBC) so I can't make comparisons. What I know is this-the age of the shocking conspiracy theory movie which leads us to find corruption in the hallowed halls of power, well, that age is over. Americans are no longer surprised by what people are capable of whether they are ordinary people, businessmen, public officials or serial killers. The lengths people will go to to cover their asses are, well, boundless. Sadly, this fact means that when the audience arrives at the end of a film we are generally beset with disappointment about the big reveal of the motivation behind all the deaths/car chases/overacted scenes that have been occurring throughout the movie. I know I was.



That is not to say, that the road to the big reveal was not fraught and interesting and even clever. Ben Affleck does his best to carry the weight of an up-and-coming congressman who has an affair with an intern who inconveniently turns up dead. Russell Crowe is Russell Crowe. Always good if not terribly endearing. How I long for the Russell Crowe of Gladiator. It's okay to be pretty, Russell! C'mon. Rachel McAdams does it. Not every reporter in America is aoverweight, long-haired, Celtic music loving cynic. (As far as I know.) I'm just saying I like a little eye candy with my brain candy. I mean really, what do I get? And don't say Ben Affleck. The superhero chin does nothing for me.





EAT.





Um. Please don't.





SHOP.





So, apparently reporters still use the trusty pen and pad. . How passe. Why not use a pen that records? (It's a rhetorical question.) Use a pen that records, silly. It's 2009 for cryin' out loud. Who still uses a pen and pad? Type this address, would ya? http://www.livescribe.com/smartpen/index.html.