Everything You Ever Wanted To Hear

...I'm really bored, and his books are really bad.

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By now, you have all most definitely read Angels & Demons.

No?

Sure you have. It may have been called Digital Fortress at the time, or perhaps Deception Point. More likely, you read it under the guise of The Da Vinci Code. But you’ve read Angels & Demons in some form or another, and thankfully the movie adaptations of Dan Brown’s novels (if you can pluralize the same story photocopied four times with altered character names and plot differences so minor that they aren’t even worth mentioning, really) are not nearly as similar to one another as their written counterparts. Even more thankfully, particularly for my wallet, Angels & Demons was actually something along the lines of what I would consider good.

Okay, let’s be honest here. It was better than good. Sure, you really have to suspend your belief to buy into this whole “giant, ancient, evil conspiracy theory existing anonymously under a tyrannical Christian rule” deal, but I think this is one of those times where you’re supposed to shrug and say, “It’s just a movie,” and distract yourself from all the technicalities that don’t really add up with another handful of popcorn.

I found the choice to exclude the romantic angle from the movie both smart and refreshing, especially considering how Professor Robert Langdon and Vittoria Vetra (played by Tom Hanks and Ayelet Zurer, respectively) had about half a second of actual screen time together. So had they chosen to include the romance that maybe sort of made sense in the significantly lengthier novel version (and even that’s pushing it), I probably would’ve ended up crying foul and making more references and comparisons to the depth of the relationship between my copy of Pokemon: Crystal Version and I. Still, a very good professional choice was made in ridding the movie of what would’ve been a painfully forced “romantic conclusion” of sorts, and I applaud the team behind this movie for doing so.

There was some truly solid acting from leads Hanks and Zurer, and Ewan McGregor lives up to his aesthetically-inspired hype, and I’m not just saying that because I have friends who would fully cut me in the face if I said otherwise. There wasn’t a second that I doubted his character truly believed that he was justified in actions, twisted though they might’ve been, and that speaks volumes of McGregor’s acting skills. Anyone who can convince me that he fundamentally believes that there was a distinct need to kill the Pope, as in, arguably the most powerful religious leader in existence, is deserving of admiration.

And don’t get all whiny and tell me that I’m spoiling the ending for you, because like I said before: if you haven’t read Angels & Demons or one of its literary duplicates, then you’ve been living under a rock that doesn’t have access to the internet either, and thus you’d have no way of reading my review. This brings me to the one major critique of the movie, something that was entirely unavoidable from the get-go: everyone knew how it would end. And while this seems like an obvious statement moreso than a legitimate complaint, I really do think this fact alone is highly detrimental the whole feel of the movie. Much of Camerlengo Patrick McKenna (McGregor)’s character development throughout the film is meant to gain our trust so that when the “Big Reveal” happens at the last moment, the audience is genuinely shocked when they find out this guy they’ve grown so fond of is actually a Pope-killer. Instead, I found myself disliking McKenna from his very first scene, simply because I knew that he was the culprit before we’d even established that the Pope had actually been murdered. And even though the movie’s ending was not exactly ripped directly from the text of the book, it was still similar enough for it to not reach its climactic potential.

But I fear that this is the unavoidable “Book to Movie Impossibility Complex”, and there’s really nothing to be done about it, except maybe praying that those Hollywood people will do something really crazy, like coming up with an original plot for a movie that isn’t based on a book/graphic novel/video game/other movie.

Speaking of which, who’s gonna be seeing The Megan Fox Bends Over Movie This Could’ve Been Written By a Particularly Hormonal Ten Year Old Boy on Ritalin Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen at midnight?

…Is it bad that I’m actually considering it?

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So here's the bottom line that I'm sure you're expecting when you saw this movie review with my name in the byline: Hannah Montana: The Movie sucked. Sure, it's not the worst movie I've ever seen (hi there, Twilight; yes, I was forced to see it and almost died laughing), but that doesn't change the fact that Hannah Montana officially broke the Fail Scale with this utter masterpiece of disaster.

The trailers effectively showcase the entire simplistic and unimaginative plot in a matter of minutes, but for those of you who were deprived (or blessed), I'll summarize: Hannah Montana/Miley Stewart/Schizopants Supreme is getting a little too big for her name-brand britches. So in a triumphant act of something resembling legitimate parenting (perhaps to make up for that whole selling-his-daughter-out-as-an-over-made-up-blond-wigged-bimbette thing), Miley's father tricks her into returning her birthplace, Tennessee, hoping that some family time and farm-related hardships will make Miley "normal" again,  or something. And by the movie's end, Miley is forced to make the ultimate decision: picking just one single persona and giving up her life as Schizopants Supreme for good. Of course, this is Disney, so it's hardly a spoiler for me to tell you that everything turns out just ducky. Have no fear; they're not quite ready to stop milking their number one cash cow just yet.

The style of the Hannah Montana: The Movie emulated that of its television counterpart, but it didn't translate very well to the big screen. Factor in the filmmakers' attempts to include more "dramatic" scenes in addition to slapstick comedy moments, and you just end up with a movie almost as supremely schizopants as its main character. Miley's brother Jackson only seems to exist to get physically injured in various ways that are entirely unrelated to the plot. At least in the show he would get a subplot, but unless getting attacked by various breeds of animal counts as a legitimate role, Jackson serves no purpose in this film whatsoever. But I think the thing that bothered me most was the fact that the "moral" was that you can't turn your back on your family and your friends and who you really are underneath that pound of makeup and blond wig, and yet every time they're trying to "demonstrate" this moral, Miley/Hannah/Schizopants is up on stage singing like the diva pop star she really is, completely undermining the whole point of the movie, if you could dare to say it ever had one. That, and you can?t help but feel like by the movie's end, the "epiphany" she has about friends and family only came to her because "Hot Boy" shows her the light. I call him "Hot Boy" because I never caught his name; the film was too focused on his hotness to mention it more than maybe once. I use quotes because his hotness is questionable, unless you're thirteen years old or a total cougar. Seriously, the kid looks young.

Surprisingly, the only thing I actually liked about this movie was a small handful of the songs. A couple of them were actually cute and fun, even (and please understand that saying this makes me cringe like you don't even know) good. But that's what a CD is for, and three catchy songs cannot salvage a sunken and buried ship. So if you want to see a bad movie, do yourself a favor and don't make it this one. Instead, opt for Dragonball: Evolutions. I mean, you're still watching something that's utterly failtastic, complete with butchered canon and inaccurate characters, but c'mon.

It's Dragonball.

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Alright, I’ll admit it: I’m a Whedonite. I follow Buffy, I adore Angel, and I worship at the holy alter of Firefly. So when Fox announced the premiere of Dollhouse, hyperventilating is a mild description of my anticipation.

The ever-reliable Wikipedia summarizes the plot as revolving around, “a young woman called Echo, a member of a group of people known as "Actives", or "Dolls”… [who] have their personalities wiped clean so they can be imprinted with any number of new personas, including memory, muscle memory, skills, and language, for different assignments … [such as] crimes, fantasies, and the occasional good deed.” It’s an incredibly original idea, as one would generally expect of Joss Whedon, inventor of the “sci-fi/western” genre to which only one show in existence actually belongs (his own Firefly), even if it sounds more or less (and has often been compared to) a show about a brothel. However, the assignments – referred to as “engagements” on-screen – are as diverse as the Dolls and their virtually endless potential personalities, which promises for a season that keeps you coming back for more.

If anything is made clear by the premise of this show, it’s that one must be an extremely adept and versatile actor to play a Doll. Unfortunately, I’m not sure Eliza Dushku really fits the bill in this regard. Her portrayal of Echo is dishearteningly detached, even in the full swing of an imprinted personality, and I find myself far more intrigued by side-character Dolls Victor and Sierra, even though Echo is the one who’s supposed to slowly become more self aware (and thus the most interesting) as the series continues. This problem was most apparent when both Echo and Sierra took on the same personality during the most recent episode “Grey Hour”. While Dushku made me like the tough-talking, fearless Taffy, the persona she’d been imprinted with, Sierra’s Enver Gjokaj made me believe she was Taffy.

Other characters include Paul Ballard, played by Tahmoh Penikett of Battlestar Galactica fame, and Topher Brink played by Franz Krants. The latter fills the role of the nerdy, amoral Dollhouse imprinter whom I am not so secretly in love with, while the former is an FBI agent assigned to hunt down the existence of the elusive Dollhouse more in hopes of keeping him off of other cases that he might blunder. Even with this knowledge, he takes the job seriously and sometimes comes off as seemingly desperate to find the truth.

No matter what the critics say (People Magazine can shut up, honestly, because it’s not like they’ve got any merit of their own to speak of), I’m holding out hope for this show, even if it takes itself a little too seriously (c’mon Whedon, where’s that quirky humor I  love so much?). There’s a complexity that’s already burgeoning with the omniscient and vaguely creepy threat of Alpha, the rogue Doll who went on a killing spree prior to the show’s opening, and Whedon’s propensity for feminist tendencies are readily apparent. It’s no Firefly, but it lacks the whining emo teenager quality that Buffy and Angel always seemed to exude in abundance, which is always a plus. Give it a shot; I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

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At this point, I’m sure most of you are aware that I’m a cynic by nature, so it should come as no surprise to you that I’m starting off with my now-habitual declaration of “I didn’t expect much from this movie”. Still, I needed to satisfy my romantic comedy fix, and since Confessions of a Shopaholic won’t be out for another week, I settled for what would appear to be the lesser He’s Just Not That Into You.

The film adaptation of a guide-to-men type of book that goes by the same name, He’s Just Not That Into You follows the lives of nine people in various relationships who intertwine in ways that are so coincidental that it borders on unbelievable. Still, the concern I had with this was not how the characters were involved, but how many. Nine supposed leads is a lot for one movie to focus on, and by the end I was left with the feeling that some subplots had been neglected and characters banished to their respective corners for prolonged periods of time in order to focus on the favorites. The problem is that these lesser characters were not nearly fleeting enough to be deemed insignificant, and yet they weren’t exactly primary either. They were just kind of…there, existing with a purpose only if you squinted your eyes and tilted your head and maybe had a seizure. So while the makers of this movie were certainly ambitious in their attempts to create a sprawling web of individuals with which to demonstrate their point, it just felt like too much for a two hour movie.

This brings about another bone I have to pick: the inability to appropriately convey their point. Though it boasts a promising start, the film ultimately fails to live up to its own name. Come on, it’s based on a book that’s called He’s Just Not That Into You, for God’s sake, described on amazon.com as “no-nonsense” and “a dose of tough love to women who need to hear it” in addition to less abrasive adjectives like “witty” and “charming”. And while I’ve never actually read the book (though I have every intention to in the near future), something tells me that it would not condone the almost dishearteningly cliché rom com “(nearly) everyone has found someone they truly love” ending. If anything, I was hoping this movie would deviate from the norm on this front, considering the title and supposedly subsequent subject matter. I’m not asking that all the characters be alone and crying by the time the credits roll, but I can’t deny that I felt a little cheated as the movie came to a close.

All that said, I actually really liked this movie. Despite straying into the land of the overly ambitious and falling headfirst into the rom com cliché pit, He’s Just Not That Into You is hilarious, sweet, and surprisingly insightful. If you’re into this kind of movie, it’s definitely a title you should see. Even if you’re not such a fan of the genre, consider giving it a shot because even though the film fell short of the actual title, it far exceeded my expectations (though it’s kind of hard not to). And while not a guy movie by definition, it certainly has moments that males will appreciate.

Besides, Bradley Cooper’s in it. Do you need another reason?

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I want to say that I liked Punisher: War Zone, but my original expectations were so incredibly skewed in the negative direction that it's hard to say that without questioning my fairness. The previews had me hoping for a film that I could later equate to crap on a stick on fire (hence why I sent to see it; I've been in a ravaging mood), so it's kind of hard to go downhill from there. Still, the movie really did appeal to me despite several shortcomings.

The idea was great (if badly advertised): Robin Hood-esque mercenary Frank Castle, in the process of massacring his usual hoards of gangsters and thugs in that theoretically endearing murderous vigilante way he has, accidentally kills an undercover federal agent and is forced to face his actions. It's an interesting concept that I genuinely like, but kind of falls flat in the presence of Ray Stevenson's truely generic acting. There was just something so unsettling about konwing that he's supposed to be a guy tortured because he slaughtered an innocent man, but his facial expressions and the tone of his voice just don't seem to possess the ability to convey what you'd expect to be innter torment. Rather, he spent most of the film looking as though someone had overcooked his steak, and he was mildly annoyed by this fact but didn't feel like making a fuss. Actually, none of the characters were particularly memorable or well acted, but I don't really think deep characterization or an intricate plot is what are what seeing this movie is about. Luckily, some decent writing (though butchered by bad delivery) and a few action scenes made of nothing less than pure, unadulturated win save this movie from being the complete flop the previews made it seem like it would be.

Seeing this movie is all about being in the right mindset. If you go in expecting a brainless action flick that you probably won't remember a month from now, or maybe the only film this year that looked worse than Punisher: Twilight, then you won't be disappointed. Just don't hope for the next Iron Man (and really, Tony Stark vs. Frank Castle? Please) or you'll just end up jumping on the Emo Train and crying yourself to sleep.

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On November 21, a movie called Twilight will be hitting theaters, causing teenage girls everywhere to swoon and faint dramatically. I will not be in attendance, needless to say, considering the surge of physical revulsion I feel every time the book upon which it is based is even mentioned in conversation. That’s right everyone, there’s probably nothing I hate more in the world than the Twilight series.

Still with me?

To summarize (and if you’re a fangirl, to make your pain brief), the entire novel is essentially a terribly written fanfiction that Stephanie Meyer somehow managed to blackmail a publisher into mass producing (and I know my bad fanfiction, believe me). But my words will never be enough to convince anyone of this fact, so I have chosen to extract some quotes from the text of the novel in hopes of explicitly demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that Twilight puts use of the English language to shame and should be burned on principle (and these are only a few of the reasons I hate it so much).

“He is unbelievably gorgeous.”

“There’s a lot more to him than that.”

Are you sure, Bella-kins? Because last time I checked, approximately 200 of the 498 pages that make up this heaping pile of word vomit are comprised entirely of you describing Edward Cullen’s perfect physic, facial structure, eyes, smell, skin, fingernails, elbows, pinky toes and all other things that can possibly be elaborated on to the point where it probably would’ve been easier to just put in a picture of him on every other page rather than allowing for a “three adjectives to every one time Edward is mentioned” ratio. This is a practice known as adjective rape, and is illegal in all 50 states last time I checked.

“Do I dazzle you?”

No, Edward. No, you do not. Rather, you make me vomit a little bit inside. See, I like my guys with something along the lines of oh, I don’t know, personality. Honestly, you shouldn’t really dazzle anyone with half a brain because everything you say feels like something out of an Instant Romance Phrase Generator (I’m sure there are plenty around the internet – hey Meyer, can you recommend a good one?) and there’s not a semblance of emotion behind anything you say.

“I’m not quite that delicate.”

But you are, Bella. It seems that as the story progresses, you go from fatally natural klutz (which I still fail to find endearing) to basically not being able to breathe without your beloved Edward’s assistance. I really don’t understand how you get up in the morning without him by your side…oh wait.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I’m naturally a tyrant.”

Edward, sweetheart, when you habitually watch someone sleep without them knowing about it, you kind of completely lose the right to say anything about whether or not you are a tyrant. You are not just a tyrant, you are a creepy, stalking tyrant, and if I ever find you in my room I will put a stake through your heart so fast you won’t even have time to dazzle me with your sparkling skin in the sunlight.

“I love you.”

“You are my life now.”

Dear God, a question to anyone who’s read this book: these two have known each other for how long? And no matter how long they’ve known each other, someone being anyone else’s entire life is nothing short of pants-on-head retarded. Now there’s a relationship bound for a mountain of problems in the future (and I don’t mean vampire issues). Except that oh wait, I forgot that Meyer doesn’t believe in reality. Still, it’s a revolting display of general stupidity and even an utterly hopeless romantic such as myself experiences a knee-jerk reaction at the sight of it.

Look, I understand if you like the Twilight series. There’s nothing wrong with a guilty pleasure or two. This opinion piece is simply that – my opinion. To each his (her?) own; I get that. But people need to realize that there’s a considerable difference between things that you like and things that are good. Believe me when I say that I’m the poster-girl for loving terrible things – teenage mermaid television shows? The current Titans comic run? Both atrocious at best, but I’m still a fan. What’s important is that I can admit when something is bad, even as I continue to tune in for a new episode or buy a new issue. But if someone even tries to point out a flaw in one of the Twilight books, it’s like the Meyer Militia vaults from the shadows, out for your blood (oh look, a pun) for insulting the. Most. Amazing. Book. Evar.

Please.

What I’m trying to get across is this: Twilight is not well written, the characters do not have anything even resembling personalities, it is entirely devoid of a legitimate plot, and even if you want to go the ‘Edward and Bella’s relationship is the plot!’ route, then it should probably be known that there’s more chemistry between me and my copy of Pokemon: Crystal Version than those two. These are the facts, do with them what you will.

You can go ahead and tell me that the only way I can fully appreciate Twilight is to read all the books that follow it, that it’ll get better as I go along, that basing my opinion of the entire series on Stephanie Meyer’s first attempt at a novel is biased and unfair, but I won’t listen. I’d still rather gouge out my own eyes with Edward’s sparkly vampire teeth than touch anything related to the Twilight series ever again (yeah, I know it’s just his creamy marble skin that sparkles like a thousand diamonds in the shimmering sun that accentuates the dramatic depth to his eyes and the statuesque perfection of his being or whatever, not his breathtaking and obscenely, beautifully white teeth. I. Still. Don’t. Care).

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In an effort to maintain a firm grasp on my sanity, I opted out of seeing the highly overrated High School Musical 3 in favor of a darker, grittier, and probably all around better movie on the night of October 24th, Pride and Glory. Sure, most of the draw was the fact that I’d be sitting in front of a screen displaying almost nothing but Edward Norton and Colin Farrell the whole entire time (in uniform, no less) and it really didn’t turn out to be all that spectacular, but I’d like to think that it was a better option than say, spending ten bucks on a movie ticket for the upcoming Twilight (which I have no intention of doing, but don’t start thinking the book is safe from my wrath).

Pride and Glory is the story of a family of New York cops investigating what is essentially a bloodbath of their fellow police officers. Three brothers (played by Edward Norton, Colin Ferrell, and Noah Emmerich) struggle with betrayal, lies, corruption, and being a family with a few skeletons in the closet, culminating in a relatively juvenile bar fight. And while I honestly understand that they were trying to portray how no matter the circumstance (dirty cops, nonexistent morals, etc.), brothers are still brothers and aren’t above a good tussle, there’s no denying that the brawl certainly disrupted the heavy, serious tone that the movie practically drowns the audience in throughout the rest of the movie in an unpleasant, even unwelcome way.

This movie is not light on the violence or swearing (hence the rating, I suppose), but it never seems as though the writers were going out of their way to be obscene simply for the sake of obscenity. I’d even go so far as to say that there was something terrifying about how this movie allowed me to believe this whole situation unsettlingly possible, and I’m not sure such a feeling could’ve been achieved without all the blood, torture, and cursing. And really, considering how everything turns out in the end, it could’ve been a whole lot worse.

I’d recommend waiting for the DVD to come out considering the truly generic plot, but I feel like that takes some of the intensity and shock factor away from a movie that heavily relies on both. After all, a beaten and battered man getting executed in a rundown apartment looks and sounds considerably more frightening when the images and gunshots are larger than life. Sure, Pride and Glory sometimes appears to believe it’s a special snowflake when I see it more as a twist on We Own the Night with a better cast (despite how I love Mark Wahlberg), but it’s a movie worth seeing if you happen to have some extra cash.

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Okay, I’ll say it right now: Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist was easily one of the cutest movies I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and thankfully not the kind that left me vomiting a bucketful of sugar onto the dance floor hours later. No, this movie was definitely the kind of sweet that I liked: tasteful, funny, and firmly grounded in reality. Where most romantic comedies need to really try to earn my respect, this one shined effortlessly with a truth and honesty about it that I haven’t seen in a teen-centric movie…ever, basically. And that in itself is what makes it so worth the ten dollar movie ticket.

Sure, this whole movie was a circumstantial improbability, if not an utter impossibility. The chances of a guy and a girl meeting, both desperate enough to kiss a random stranger, the guy’s friends being the nicest, most supportive gay guys to ever walk the planet (who just happen to have a box full of women’s clothing in the back of their truck), and the girl’s friend being a crazy drunk who is lost in the city and then subsequently found are far beyond ludicrous, to say the least.  Still, the realism of this movie doesn’t lie in the circumstance, but the human interactions during the events of one crazy New York night.

Everyone knows that Michael Cera has the “That Awkward But Nice Boy Next Door Who Would Totally Bring You Flowers If Your Mom Died” nailed (a fact that I don’t fault him for like everyone else seems to; the kid plays to his strengths), but throw in Kat Dennings and suddenly Nick and Norah really come to life as a guy who just can’t get over his ex-girlfriend and a girl who is looking for a way out of her father’s shadow. It’s the little things that make these two (as well as the rest of the cast) sparkle with something other than the typical Hollywood Teenager Sheen that’s taken over movies focused on young adults today. Girls are not always strong when they want to be. Guys are not always suave when they wish they were. Even Tris, the token Beautiful Mean Girl Ex, manages to show some cracks in the shiny, hard veneer of her personality from time to time. The beauty in Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist is that I believed every single conversation, human action (and subsequent reaction), and awkward moment the movie had to offer.

Too many people seem to want to compare this movie to Juno, and while I agree that they’re stylistically similar in that “cute, quirky indie” way, I really feel as though such an assessment is selling Nick and Norah's far short of the love it deserves. It really has its own unique charm to it, a little out there but altogether hilarious and touching as a result. If you’re not in love with (almost) every character and (almost) every situation and the way it was handled by the time the credits roll, you officially have no soul.

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I wasn't really planning to see Baby Mama when I entered the Santa Anita Mall a couple weeks ago. My personal inclination was to purchase a ticket to 21 and admire Jim Sturgess in all his gambling glory, to be quite honest. Unfortunately, my mom has something against a movie where kids count cards to win lots of money and then get beat up by casino bruisers later on, so we settled for Tina Fey's charming comedy that I knew very little about upon entering the movie theater. Luckily, I was pleasantly surprised by my mother'schoice. While not quite as gut-achingly hilarious as I remember Mean Girls being, Baby Mama sparkled in its own unique way, with a nice taste of realistic life lessons to go with the laughs a comedy is supposed to inspire.

Baby Mama is the story of a successful single business woman named Kate who is suddenly struck with the desire to have a child at the age of 37. Unable to conceive on her own, Kate decides to try an alternative method: surrogate birth. After negotiations with the agency, she is paired off with a working-class girl named Angie and her boyfriend Carl. Soon however, Angie decides to ditch Carl and moves in with Kate, causing their two very different worlds to collide in ways neither is ready to handle.

Although there is an undeniably questionable degree of believability as to certain aspects of the movie, and even if the ending all works out just a little too perfectly, it hardly throws off the overall good-feeling effect that the movie leaves you with when you exit the theater. Ultimately, the highlight of the movie is the myriad of quirky personalities, from less-than-high-end Angie, to tightly-wound Kate, to low-life Carl, to my personal favorite: Kate's off-kilter, passive-aggressively egotistical boss Barry, played by Steve Martin. As with real life, each of these individuals has their ups and downs of relationships and all the crazy that comes with childbirth, multipled by the comiplications of a surrogate mother, and that in itself is what keeps the movie grounded.

Barry's "great reward" of "five minutes of uninterrupted eye contact", bestowed upon Kate for finding a place worthy of his new health food store, still cracks me up every time I replay the scene in my head, and that alone is enough of a reason to go see this movie.

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