A wedding is usually one of the hardest passages a couple can expect to weather in a relationship. Having just gone through one myself, I can readily attest. But you don’t expect that trial to hold true for best friends — that is unless said friends plan simultaneous dream weddings at New York City’s Plaza [...]
As the vampire-version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer‘s Willow liked to say, ”Bored now.” Maybe that’s not completely true for every minute of Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant, but it certainly applies more often than not.
It feels like the fun wonderment of Where the Wild Things Are has been clobbered with a dirt clod and killed. What was once a fun and light-hearted story – at least to my childish mind – has been completely turned around to be a sad, melancholy story of losing innocence and growing up.
With the groundswell of support that’s spreading Paranormal Activity across the U.S. beyond its paltry initial distribution, the film is clearly going to the sleeper success of the year. And considering it’s mockumentary style and subject matter, not to mention to a painfully low budget of $15,000, comparisons to 1999′s Blair Witch are spot-on. Yet whereas Witch was a pretty disturbing affair and took audiences to a different level of cinematic experience, Paranormal Activity does not. The real phantom here is the idea that Paranormal Activity is the scariest film in recent memory, and good enough to deserve one million votes to expand nationwide. It’s not. Activity‘s meager roots make it a solid accomplishment, to be sure, but the film, aside from two choice scenes, is largely pretty boring and lacks the convincing nature that made the Blair Witch so ground-breaking.
In a cutthroat world where luck is just as important as skill, only a few survive. And when every day is a struggle, the hope of finding some happiness along the way just seems unobtainable. Yet it’s this one simple, common goal — wanting to make it in a world that’s harsh and unforgiving — that unites a group of strangers. No, they’re not a bunch high school kids at a performing arts school. In Zombieland, they’re the sole survivors of the human race when everyone else is either dead or the living dead.
Fame is fleeting. Even those who do get their fifteen minutes in the spotlight all too often find themselves back in the dark, only a faint memory in the minds of their once adoring fans. For the new cast of Fame, they barely get fifteen seconds and hardly justify a thought once the theater threshold has been crossed.
Scientific tales that take the thinnest threads of theories and stretch them to exotic ends can be a lot of fun. The Matrix taught us our world may not be as real as we think. Terminator warns of the dangers in advancing robotic technology. And Surrogates suggests that living life by mechanical-proxy may be a better way to go. Some of these stories are thorough and game-changing, and others like Surrogates, are just skin-deep. The Jonathan Mostow (Terminator 3)-directed film, however, does get a knod for supporting the idea that people truly are ugly on the inside.
Megan Fox may have been oddly cast as Sam Witwicky‘s girlfriend in Transformers, but the role nevertheless heaved the toe-thumbed hottie into men’s dreams and women’s fears. But as the co-lead in Jennifer’s Body, there is no better fit than Fox. Chalk that up to the young actress having a knack for playing an aloof, predatory vixen — go figure! — and writer Diablo Cody‘s (Juno) superb ability to give her characters the wittiest, sharpest of tongues (not to mention teeth). Less perfect is the overall story. While Jennifer’s Body will gift you with terms like “wetty” and “freaktard,” there’s less to take home from the narrative. Lesbi-gay (that’s another term for the film) director, Karyn Kusama (Æon Flux), succeeds at adding an excited style and pace to Cody’s story, which is BFF with the film’s one-liners.
Isn’t it nice when filmmakers are so excited about the final product that they add an exclamation point to the title? The Informant! It’s about a whistleblower! It stars Matt Damon! It’s going to be great!
If only that sense of excitement carried through the film’s entirety, but most scenes in The Informant! are punctuated by a couple good lines – maybe calling for some italics to indicate a key word or two – but then they just slowly… trail… off….
Writer and director Robert D. Siegel isn’t pulling any muscles with the broad themes at play in Big Fan: loser has one shot at something wonderful, but luck isn’t on his side. If it sounds familiar, perhaps it’s because Siegel is still coaching out of his old playbook – the one he used when writing The Wrestler. The change for Big Fan is that the loser isn’t trying to reclaim the spotlight, but rather he’s always outside the ring. Or I should say the stadium, since Paul (Patton Oswalt) can’t actually afford tickets and listens to the Giants play from the parking lot with loser pal Sal (Kevin Corrigan). When Paul gets a shot at meeting his favorite player ( Jonathan Hamm) it all goes terribly wrong. (In a strip club nonetheless; I kept looking for Marisa Tomei to strut on stage.)
Whiteout is a term commonly used to refer to a type of weather condition that severely impairs one’s visibility of the environment around them — say, a blizzard. Director Dominic Sena uses this force of nature to push around the characters in his new film, Whiteout, yet he comes across as the only one who has lost the ability to see. Why the studio didn’t put this film out in the cold to wander off and die is a mystery. What is clear is that Whiteout is a perfect storm of bad acting, bad direction and even worse writing. Sena and his cast are probably wishing for another kind of whiteout right about now — the kind that will remove this film from their resume.
A scorched, post-apocalyptic Earth has been the setting for many an epic blockbuster, but rarely an animated feature. Director, Shane Acker , carves a lonely rumbled path in his computer-generated debut film, 9 — a hauntingly magical yarn, spun more for adults and those with darker dispositions than innocent ankle-biters. The grunge patina and creepy cloth creatures (known as Stitchpunks) should be your first clue that 9 isn’t a happy tale to curl up with at night. While Acker’s plot is manifestly stitched together from other well-worn stories, his visual treatment is as pure and creative as they come.
You might wonder if Gamer and All About Steve are worth the cost of admission this weekend. You and us both. You see, Tim and I have a little confession to make. We’re not some powerhouse outlet drawing millions in advertising that allows us to lay back waiting for the next screening. Obviously, you would think that, right? We have day jobs, other commitments and hustle our pretty little asses off to make Popscorn a site you want to visit every week. So when an upcoming film screens just once at 10:30AM and the other doesn’t at all, you can see how bringing you an informative, appropriately salty look at that movie would be problematic. Instead, here’s an uninformed and overly salty opinion of these two illusive films we couldn’t see (and probably won’t).
Director Rob Zombie recently said that he would “never” bring audiences a third installment of his Halloween films, following the release of his sequel, Halloween 2, this weekend. Let us all take a moment to respond with a collective, “Thank You!” As reboots/re-imaginings/regurgitations go, Zombie’s Halloween of 2007 was a noteworthy effort, largely in showing a different, interesting perspective on the origins of Michael Meyers. Zombie carries that same narrative vision into Halloween 2, but frustratingly manages to butcher the story from beginning to end. Michael’s accomplished pursuit of nubile prey trails Zombie’s ability to ferret out and eliminate any residual value from his original, inspired direction. And not unlike many scenes in the film, audiences are left standing in a sad, bloody mess.
One hundred and forty minutes is an awful lot of foreplay for a 10-minute payoff. Yet that’s what Quentin Tarantino is requiring of audiences who commit to his latest film, Inglourious Basterds.
Set in Nazi-occupied France, Inglourious Basterds is Tarantino doing what he does: taking serious and bloody topics and approaching them with a quirky, irreverent eye. The “basterds,” besides being poor spellers, are a group of soldiers (many of them Jewish) with one mission and one mission only: killin’ Naatzis. Naughtzis? Gnat-zees? (It’s tough to phonetically spell Nazis the way Brad Pitt manages to drawl the phrase in the film.)
Exactly how would the world react if suddenly a spaceship carrying crustacean-like aliens took up residence in the airspace above a populated city? Most would probably imagine a battle for species supremacy like that seen in Independence Day. First-time director, Neill Blomkamp, pictures the scenario a bit differently. In District 9, aliens and humans manage to avoid a violent meet-and-greet and come to carve out some semblance of coexistence along the lines of South Africa’s apartheid. Blomkamp, who is originally from South Africa, embraces this theme of pervasive segregation yet applies a sci-fi sensibility that will surely surprise audiences. While the film touches on being overpopulated with irony and allegory, District 9 is one of the best films of its category in years — a stunning, seamless weaving of reality and fiction, complemented by a story-without-borders that will keep you wanting more.
When Cliff (Steve Zahn) calms his wife’s fear of the beach hike ahead by saying, “Nothing bad ever happens in Hawaii,” you know A Perfect Getaway is going to a pretty cheap trip. It’s doubtful one expects a genre-bending slick, sophisticated thriller considering the late-summer timing and Resident Evil mainstay Milla Jovovich at the helm, but you’d at least hope for something less eye-rolling and anticipated. Getaway is more of a roller-coaster afternoon at Busch Gardens on a hot humid day than a picturesque Hawaiian vacation. Director David Twohy wants to keep audiences guessing with blunt, repetitive misdirection. Instead, his jerky style just comes off as conspicuous and trying. Ultimately, you just have to sit back with full awareness of the lurching ahead and the expectation that the ride will be over in short time.
If there’s a secret ingredient, you can bet it’s butter. Butter makes everything better. And there is absolutely no substitute for it in cooking. Using something like I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter is a joke and an insult to cooks everywhere. So the fact that Nora Ephron’s latest concoction, Julie & Julia, doesn’t come out of the oven just right makes one wonder if the director didn’t somehow substitute oleo for the real deal.
Julie & Julia is based on two true stories, one following Julia Child’s rise to culinary magician and Julie Powell’s magical transformation, via the kitchen, from low-level bureaucrat to published writer. Rather than complement each other like fish and chips, the two stories are like pairing Kobe beef with a side of McDonald’s french fries.
Though it happens all the time in movies or in sitcoms, I’ve never actually known someone to make a deal with a cabbie that the size of the tip decreases every minute, meaning the longer the ride the smaller the tip. But a similar deal should have been struck with Judd Apatow about his new film, Funny People: The longer the film, the worse the review. And clocking in at over two and a half hours, Funny People loses a good rating.
Youngsters are often used in horror movies as disturbing devices because people naturally don’t expect evil to come from innocent, wide-eyed cherubs. The juxtaposition of cute and conniving is a palpable one, but it’s getting old. So much, in fact, you have to wonder when characters in film will finally get wise to the truth that nefariousness knows no height, especially when the ankle-biter’s name is Esther. Audiences certainly understand this, which is why Orphan, directed by Jaume Collet-Serra (House of Wax), is immediately recognizable and almost entirely predictable. Most of us have seen the likes of The Omen, The Good Son and Joshua — the list is a long one — and can readily dictate the tempo of such films. Orphan, like a Von Trap child, falls right in line with the rest. Nevertheless, the film surprisingly manages to push the convention in a number of interesting ways, which makes it worthwhile for any fan of the genre.
Here’s our ugly truth. Sometimes when watching trailers, Kevin or I will look at each other and say, “You can cover that one.” Sometimes, we both say it. And there was not enough vodka in the world to convince either of us to screen The Ugly Truth starring Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler (sans Brit accent of all things!). It’s currently wallowing in Rotten status over at Rotten Tomatoes, so we probably made the right decision.
But I’ll make a pledge that if it hits 20%, I’ll suck it up and see the film. However, I’m pretty confident that won’t happen.
Did you see it? If so, tell us what you thought.
Love. It can put a spring in your step and a smile on your face. Then it can come crashing down on your head like an avalanche of rocks that beat you to a bloody pulp while squeezing the very last breath from your lungs. Which is why the opening voice-over of (500) Days of Summer takes care to explain that the film is not a love story, but rather a story about love. An important distinction, avalanche wise.
It’s evident from the first moment, when a disclaimer flashes across the screen and sets the tone for the rest of the movie, that (500) Days of Summer is going to be both sweet and sour. Though the concept – and title – are a little too precious by half, director Marc Webb pulls it off with amazing deft. He weaves together a non-linear story so that the relation’s highs lead directly into the lows, so you experience the break-up an hour before the fight that precedes it. It’s smart, and it works.
Hogwarts homework assignment: Re-watch (or re-read) Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. If you don’t, you’re going to be utterly lost because there is so much to cram into Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince that there’s no room to cover what’s already happened.
Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) and his wizard friends Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) and Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) are back for year six of their Hogwarts education. And despite only vague memories of what transpired in the book, it didn’t take long to remember that this was the one with all the “snogging,” or, in other words, the year of sucking face. A pattern very quickly emerges in Half-Blood Prince: see something sinister, snog, fight off evil forces, snog, go on a dangerous quest, snog. Perhaps it’s because the kids are using too much horned-toad in their potions, but no amount of impending doom dampens their hormones!
What exactly is the expected reaction to watching a gay man mime blowing a ghost? Part of it might depend on the technique or the ghost — one half of Milli Vanilli, for instance — but it’s safe to say that either you find that sort of thing amusing or you don’t. There are small gradations on either end of the reactionary spectrum, but very little middle ground. That’s the test you should use in deciding whether to see Brüno this weekend, Sacha Baron Cohen‘s follow up to his 2006 hit, Borat. Don’t try to trick yourself into thinking it’s not that shocking, because giving an apparition oral — talk about ectoplasm — is one of Brüno’s lesser offenses. Cohen’s new film, which traces Brüno’s journey to be “the most famous Austrian since Hitler” and “the gayest since Schwarzenegger,” surpasses his landmark Borat by trading guffaws for dropped jaws. Cohen’s disruptive, guerrilla anthropology will have you out of your seat, either laughing hysterically or leaving the theater.
Michael Mann helming a crime thriller based on the notorious John Dillinger that pits Johnny Depp against Christian Bale may sound like a Hollywood sure-thing. But don’t be surprised if you get a sense that someone has been through your pockets when it’s all said and done. Public Enemies may not rob you completely, but it’s nowhere near the pay-off audiences might expect. The film’s muted palette intends to play to the feel of the 1930′s. Instead, it ironically better represents the film’s pervasive weakness — shades of beige as far as a nearsighted person can see. With such rich, historical material on hand, it’s disappointing that the most wanted thing in Public Enemies is some true depth and color.
Michael Bay certainly has his own style of film-making and is the industry’s veritable man-child director running amok with big budgets and even bigger explosions. And while Bay usually does what he does well (which says nothing of it actually being good), he’s overdone it with his latest, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. The preceding film in 2007 introduced audiences to Hasbro’s nostalgic toy-line in fitting blockbuster fashion, bringing childhood imaginations to life in a way few thought possible. That right first step, presumably, gave Bay the inclination to crank it up to 11 this time and overload Revenge of the Fallen with so much eye candy and fury you’ll walk out of the theater with ocular cavities and a general amnesia to the preceding two-and-a-half hours. We’ll call the condition “Bay Overdose,” which can be traced back to a number of the film’s afflictions.
Proposals for marriage are most always heavily orchestrated affairs. Despite considerable planning and meticulous execution, something usually goes awry. But what’s a fumbled word or an impatient fiance-to-be when you have love to fall back on? Margaret (Sandra Bullock) and Andrew (Ryan Reynolds) don’t have that luxury in Anne Fletcher (27 Dresses)-directed The Proposal, and a botched path to the altar means means one must leave the country — to the liberal netherworld of Canada. Theirs is a sham proposal, for sure; but the matter isn’t without a surprising degree of emotion. Like global warming kissing the Alaskan snow, your heart may reluctantly melt a little watching the matrimonial meanderings of Bullock and Reynolds. Solid writing and a genuine, convivial dynamic between the pair turns the otherwise artificial affair into an unusually enjoyable romantic comedy.
Year One goes back almost to the start of time. You know, back before there was laughter. And while Zed (Jack Black) and Oh (Michael Cera) learn all sorts of new things on their travels – like what wheels are and the definition of circumcision – they never really learn how to entertain an audience.
It’s quite a struggle to try and wrap one’s head around the plot of Year One, because it’s like trying to find logic in dribble, structure in chaos, or humor in crap. Granted, there is a scene where Zed eats crap, but there’s no humor in it (just some berries). Nor is it funny when Oh pees on his own face. Or when he has to rub oil into the High Priest’s (Oliver Platt) hirsute, distended belly. Or when Cain (Arrested Development’s David Cross) beats Abel (Paul Rudd) to death.
Tony Scott‘s new thrill-ride, The Taking of the Pelham 123, starts off set to the music of Jay-Z’s “99 Problems.” I doubt the Deja-Vu director intended the song’s key lyric, “Got 99 problems, but a bitch ain’t one” to prove an upfront, accurate summation of the film; almost like a warning label for what unfolds over the unduly extended affair. While pitting Denzel Washington against John Travolta seems like a promising ride, Pelham‘s plot and prose derails the film long before it reaches it’s intended destination. One curious theory picked up along the route, however, is that perhaps Travolta’s villain was homosexual. Maybe it’s simply the byproduct of a wandering critic’s mind during eye-rolling sequences, but the idea kept my attention better than Scott’s frantic cutting and music-video aesthetics.
Haven’t we all had a hangover that hits in the morning like a ton of bricks being dropped on your head one at a time? Over and over and over. You know how it happens — it starts with a toast, includes a couple rounds of shots, and ends with a vow to never, ever drink again. Even if you don’t remember the night itself, you almost certainly remember the feeling.
For the four hapless guys in The Hangover, that feeling is all too real. But the crazy happenings that took place also took one of their friends. Doug (Justin Bartha), the bachelor being celebrated, is M.I.A. on the morning of his wedding, which means his groomsmen are S.O.L. It’s what the groom does in Vegas that’s supposed to stay in the city, not the actual groom.
Recipe: Add one tablespoon of spittle from an old hag, three blond hairs from one young woman (preferable beautiful), and one fly with wings still beating to a stew of blood and maggots. Simmer for 90 minutes. Drain through a cursed handkerchief and allow to sit on counter until rotten. What you’ll wind up with is one hell of a good horror flick.
This is the recipe that Spider-Man director Sam Raimi cooks up for Drag Me to Hell and let me warn you, it’s going to give you heartburn. And it burns so good.
Who would have thought that salvation would come in the form of a man with the self-ascribed moniker McG? But it has. McG, who made angels fall from the sky (Charlie’s, at least), has resurrected a nearly terminated story and sparked life back into both man and machine.
It probably goes without saying that T2 was the best of the Terminator movies to date. Somewhere between the action sequences, the character development, and Linda Hamilton’s bulging biceps, nirvana was found. However, McG has created a fine addition to the series in Terminator Salvation, though he does explosive heat better than burning heart.
It’s been three years since Dan Brown’s wildly popular novel, The Da Vinci Code, jumped to the silver screen, angering the Catholic Church with its controversial topics. The wait for more is over, and while church leaders have less to take issue with in Angels & Demons, audiences certainly have more than enough reason to complain.
Much of the original team is back for the second installment, including director Ron Howard and screenwriter Akiva Goldsman, who is joined by David Koepp (Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). The three make liberal changes to Brown’s novel, which originally came before The Da Vinci Code, and re-craft it to continue the tale of Dr. Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) and his never-ending quest to dissect the church and its symbols. Langdon is part academic, part stud; he’s supposed to be brain and brawn all rolled into one.
J.J. Abrams may not be boldly going where no man has gone before, but he’s boldly doing what few have done before: creating a daring, kick-ass reboot of a cultural fixture.
When discussing Star Trek, it’s important to announce one’s level of Trekker-ness. On the scale of ”I was too busy getting laid in high school for Star Trek” to ”Trekker Conventions Rock,” I’m closer to the ”Too busy” side at ”Watching it was fun when there was nothing else to do.” In other words, I can get some of the inside jokes, but definitely not all of them. But one doesn’t need to get all of them to enjoy Abrams’ vision of the USS Enterprise.
What happens when the badass becomes the sweet and sensitive one? You lose the edge. And that’s exactly the problem with X-Men Origins: Wolverine. There’s no edge. Wolverine has been de-clawed.
The X-Men franchise, which seemed to have run its course with the high X-Men body count in X-Men: The Last Stand, has taken a page from Cher’s Farewell Concert(s): If there’s money to be made, just reinvent yourself and do it again.
The topic of illegal immigration from Mexico can be a pretty heated one at times. But if you put politics aside, it’s hard to deny the intrinsic hope and optimism that is often lost in the debate – that these people are simply striving and struggling for a better life. And by “these people,” I’m not just talking about immigrants directly from Mexico, but also those that come from deeper parts of Central America. When newcomer director Cary Fukunaga worked on his short film Victoria para chino in 2004, he learned that for many immigrants, crossing the border into the United States was in a lot of ways the least of their worries.
Back in 2007, Samuel L. Jackson starred in a movie called Cleaner, where he played the owner of a business that tidied up the biological mess of crime scenes. He was duped into helping cover up a murder, which kicked into gear the active and interesting plot. While Sunshine Cleaning leverages that same odd-but-curious career track, it’s an altogether different film. Not nearly as bright and fresh as the title would leave you to believe, Sunshine Cleaning is an overcast and melancholy film. Despite its grey tones, the film contains a spectrum of color thanks to the performances of Amy Adams, Emily Blunt and Alan Arkin.The plot is largely flat and humble, and shows a disjointed family simply trying to get by, together. It’s accessible material, to be sure, and portrayed in the most artful of ways, but some may still find Sunshine Cleaning too overly dramatic and dreary a stroll.
It’s springtime again — season of love, hope, budding bromance. That’s no typo, gang — bromance is the new romance. It’s all about the dude love, the hetero bonding of two guys, the (platonic) man-on-man action. A ”bro” is more than just a poker buddy, he’s the wing-man who’s always ready to ”suit up” and will be there for you when the chips are down. I Love You, Man pays homage to this strong yet often unspoken, and completely not-gay, connection between guys.
Poor Peter (Paul Rudd) has been flying solo for his entire life. He’s that sensitive, sweet guy who is more likely to curl up on the couch with his girlfriend and watch The Devil Wears Prada (his choice) than go out carousing with the guys (mainly because he wasn’t invited). So now that he’s met his dream woman (The Office’s Rashida Jones), who is going to stand up for him at his wedding?
There’s a poignant phrase that shows up often in Watchmen, simply, “Who watches the Watchmen?” The question has a clear purpose in the story, which is to call attention to the authority enjoyed by the 6-person superhero team. But the same query is surely on the minds of studio execs now that the heralded comic book series has finally made it to the big screen. Who will flock to the theater to watch a two-and-a-half hour journey into an altered ’80s reality? And does Watchmen truly deliver? While the film’s quality has incited debate, the short answer to this question is that, truly, everyone should watch the Watchmen.
Proving he’s not a one-hit badass, Liam Neeson leverages the fisticuffs he picked up as Ra’s al Ghul in Batman Begins to beat the sense out of some Algerian thugs who have kidnapped his daughter in Pierre Morel’s Taken. Clean-cut and unassuming, Neeson’s Bryan Mills is inescapably reminiscent of Matt Damon’s Jason Bourne. But anyone hoping for the next sensible spy tale to follow that ground-breaking trilogy should probably continue to hold their breath. Taken is admirably in-your-face, satisfyingly (if not surprisingly) blunt and lensed like the best of them, but it lacks in the nuance and depth that might turn it into a genre mainstay. Nevertheless, Neeson has clearly broken the mold for ass-kicking fathers.
The other period battle vying for your attention takes place in 709 AD, and involves an ancient Viking village, a downed space traveler and the beast he’s hunting called a Moorwen. While Outlander surrounds the hunter Kainan, adapting to his Old World environment and continuing his mission, what you really want is to see and learn more of the Moorwen — mainly because that’s the only part of the film director Howard McCain got right. Kainan bonding with the Vikings, the accessory special effects and the progression of the plot are all boring and at times disappointing. The film’s sole noteworthy accomplishment is bringing this intriguing alien beast into the genre. Interestingly, McCain was a writer on Rise of the Lycans, and that film’s director, Patrick Tatopoulos, worked on creature effects for Outlander.
Rise of the Lycans is certainly new territory for the Underworld story. Gone are the latex and leather trappings of the first two films, and in their place, chain-mail and armor. It’s less sexy and less urban this time around, which were two appealing hallmarks of the series. Lead actress Kate Beckinsale is gone, as well, though she’s replaced by the, dare I say sultrier, Rhona Mitra. The story and medieval setting is definitely a different taste, but something that we can gladly sink our teeth into all the same.
Well before the release of writer/director David Goyer’s The Unborn, the Dark Knight-scribe talked of a possible sequel to the dybbuk scare — an opportunity, he said, to go deeper into the origins of the spirit haunting lead Odette Yustman (Cloverfield). Now that the film has come forth, any idea of continuing the story should be aborted posthaste. With its [...]
A wedding is usually one of the hardest passages a couple can expect to weather in a relationship. Having just gone through one myself, I can readily attest. But you don’t expect that trial to hold true for best friends — that is unless said friends plan simultaneous dream weddings at New York City’s Plaza [...]
