All you have to do is study the image below, a close-up bit of the original poster for a famous movie. Then just enter the correct title of the film in the comments section below this post.
I won't post any of your guesses until I put the answer up and announce the winners tomorrow.
Take a look and take your best shot:
Johnny Depp is. (Edward couldn't win anyway, he's not ALIVE, nor is he technically a man. You Twihards can stop sending your hate mail to the magazine now.)
But what about Edward's alter-ego, RPattz? Well, after rumors reached a fever-pitch this week that Robert Pattinson was going to be given People magazine's highest honor (there were fake covers circulating and everything...), Twilight fans were devastated to learn that another ageless vampire -- er, I mean, the always-youthful Captain Jack Sparrow nabbed the coveted title -- for the second time. Pattinson did, of course, still make the list of the "hottest guys on the planet" and his face was still on the cover -- People isn't that stupid -- they are in the business of selling magazines, after all.
What do you think of People avoiding the obvious choice and NOT picking the rising star who everyone thought was a shoo-in?
I saw the poster for Crazy Heart a few days ago and thought, "What in the heck is this?" The title reminded me of Untamed Heart -- you know, the one where Christian Slater claims to have baboon parts? -- and so my initial reaction was one of skepticism. The cheesy tagline, "The harder the life, the sweeter the song," didn't help matters, either.
However, I can't ignore all of the Oscar buzz that's been building this week for both Jeff Bridges and the film overall, which many critics are deeming "a country-music version of The Wrestler." I've also learned that the less than stellar title is due to the fact that this film is based on a novel of the same name by Thomas Cobb, and Fox Searchlight apparently felt that they should just stick with it.
Crazy Heart tells the story of Bad Blake, a down-and-out Willie Nelson-like character who is trying to get his life back on track. And even though you know that I have absolutely zero issues with attempting to judge a movie's potential based on its trailer, I don't feel quite as comfortable with making Oscar predictions based on two minutes of clips. So while I'll refrain from weighing in on Bridges' odds (he is a four-time nominee, though, so he might have the "Aww, just give it to him, already!" factor going for him), I still have to give my two cents on the preview. You better watch it first, though:
Yep, it does look extremely Wrestler-ish. Even the song playing throughout -- "The Weary Kind" by T-Bone Burnett -- seems like a twin of the track The Boss wrote for Mickey Rourke's comeback vehicle last year. And while I admit that Crazy Heart certainly has all the makings of a critical darling, can I just say that I'm so, so, so sick of seeing older, screwed-up men somehow managing to woo young, pretty little things (Maggie Gyllenhaal, in this case -- who's 27 years younger than Bridges, in case you were wondering) on the big screen? (I know it's based on a fictional book, but still.) How can this chick fall for him when it's nearly impossible to understand what he's saying? And when is the last time he's showered?
On a completely separate note, did you catch Colin Farrell in there? He was shown twice, but each time was just a split-second... and he wasn't listed at the end, either. Strange. Anyway, regardless of some of my nitpicks, I know I'll try to see this one when it opens in limited release on December 11 (in order to be considered by the Academy). Will The Dude get another shot at the gold? That, my friends, will remain a mystery until February 2, when the list of nominees is announced.
I'm pretty sure that even shamans living deep in the Amazon are well aware that New Moon hits theaters on Friday. It simply wasn't possible to avoid all of the marketing and hype surrounding the Twilight sequel, especially with coverage kicking into high gear last night because of its red-carpet premiere in L.A.
What everyone might not know, however, is that there are actually two other films opening this weekend as well. One is The "based on a true story, sure to make you shed a tear" Blind Side starring Sandra Bullock, which Locke will be reviewing for us. As for the other... well, it should come as no surprise that if there's one group who thinks they can take on both vampires and werewolves, it the aliens. Enter Planet 51, which I think looks fairly cute. Not as cute as RPattz, mind you, but you get what I'm saying.
Ah, so we are the aliens. Hardee-har-har! And what'd you think about the not-so-subtle use of The Killers' "Spaceman"? Oooh, they're just so clever!
But seriously, I do think this one seems like it should be a great option for families, though I am kind of creeped out by the look of the aliens -- their shade of green and those antennae seem to be blatant rip-offs of Shrek, and their no-nose faces are a little unnerving. Hopefully those are things that are easy to get used to after a few minutes. Also, didn't you think that the robot who "peed" at the end seemed to be very Wall-E-ish? And I would've never guessed that Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was the voice of the deserted astronaut. It might have helped if they made the character look like him a little more -- but then again, you know how I feel about celebrity voicework overall, so it really doesn't matter if the voice fit the animated face.
While Planet 51 is clearly not going to win this weekend's box-office race, I do believe it will enjoy a steady and successful run until Disney's The Princess and the Frog hits on December 11. I also think it has the potential to drain even more of your cash reserves once you've left the theater -- you know the kiddies are going to want all of the action figures available at Burger King, the video game, and Lord knows what other stuff the merchandising elves have dreamed up. Good thing the holidays are right around the corner, huh? (Surely that's not why they chose to release this film right before Thanksgiving...)
THE FOLLOWING IS A REPRINT OF THE REDBLOG REVIEW OF STAR TREK ON ITS THEATRICAL RELEASE. STAR TREK IS NOW AVAILABLE ON DVD THROUGH REDBOX.
Other redblog Trek pieces:
Erika Olson's Non-Trekkie Review of Star Trek
What We Talk About When We Talk About Star Trek -- Locke reminiscences on what Trek has meant to him since childhood.
UPDATE: When I wrote this review last May, I was still somewhat tentatively circling J.J. Abrams' Star Trek reboot, soaking it all in, processing the new shininess. Since then I've come to flat-out, unequivocally love the new Trek film--it'll no doubt make it on my top 10 list for 2009.
If can you get past young Jimmy Kirk taking a '66 ‘Vette for a
23rd-century thrill ride while jamming to The Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage,”
then you should be okay with the rest of J.J. Abrams’ hyperactive, pop
explosion refit of the Star Trek franchise.
Sure, there’s a lot of energy-drink-fueled teen giddiness and slapstick to the proceedings—at times you’d think it was Stardate 90210. And while it’s true Old Trek sometimes spent too much time sitting around talking, this new version feels a like a kid on a sugar rush, running circles around the room until you want to scream “Just STOP for a moment! Stand still and take a breath!”
But hey, I love me some Beasties, and overall, this is one helluva fun Trek--Star or otherwise. Maybe it’s a little too obsessed with hooking in younger, non-Trekkie viewers (product placement in a Trek film feels a lot like billboards at Wrigley Field), but considering all the hoops it has to jump through to get its origin story off the ground… while pleasing both newbies and devotees… and while introducing a very young, fresh-faced cast playing pop-cultural icons… well, this is a fine, fine start. One that not only leaves you breathlessly entertained, but giddy with anticipation for where Abrams and his co-creators can go next now that they have the hard part out of the way.
There is a plot—it involves Nero, a Romulan miner (Eric Bana) on an avenge-the-dead-wife mission (not the last shade of Khan the new film offers up) that involves going back in time almost two centuries and putting a serious hurt on the core systems in the budding United Federation of Planets. (An entity I’m not sure is ever mentioned in the film.) Nero's first pounce comes just as Baby Kirk is being born (in space, not Riverside, Iowa—although he'll grow up there and the town still gets a nice shout out).
In what is a surprisingly touching moment amid the chaos, baby Jimmy Kirk is named and then left a fatherless rebel-to-be. (One critic noted that as the shuttle carrying Momma Kirk and her newborn waif retreats from Nero’s attack, it is literally the last time in his life James T. Kirk will back away from anything.) The Romulan with the Tyson face tattoo then pops back up 25 years later to continue his rampage, rushing the newly commissioned Starfleet flagship Enterprise into action with a crew comprised almost solely of cadets. (More Khan echoes.)
All of this, however, is pretense. Star Trek’s true goal is two-sided: Get young James T. Kirk (Christopher Pine) into the captain’s chair of the Enterprise and get his friendship with his Academy rival, Spock, started.
The ship, its captain, and its first officer will become legendary in time, but Abrams’ Star Trek wields a double-edged sword. The new film benefits from most of us already knowing—directly or indirectly—who these characters are. But that advantage cuts the other way as well, as comparisons to the original actors and their hard-earned dynamic are inevitable.
To everyone’s credit, they all hold their own nicely. Unlike the woe-begotten Hayden Christensen, Pine hits the ground running on his way to Movie Stardom—his lack of intimidation by the boots he needs to fill perfectly echoes Kirk’s own reckless confidence. There are plenty of times when Pine’s New Kirk comes off as an annoying jerk (the infamous Kobayashi Maru test is sadly tossed off as a smug, cocky joke) and his spastic womanizing feels more Van Wilder than Virile Leader.
But then you realize that’s the point. This is young Kirk, all impulse and swagger—he has 30 to 40 more years to season into the Kirk we last saw. Though it is unfortunate the film almost completely skips over his years at Starfleet Academy—Kirk appears to come out of the experience utterly unchanged from the unfocused horndog he went in as. (And yep, he beds a green-skinned Orion lass.)
Behold the power of social networking: The Mad Hatter is on Facebook... and set up a Twitter account to boot. That's right, he joined Facebook at the end of July and already has over 67,000 "fans." He's also been busy doling out little teases for Alice in Wonderland. So far, he's given his followers -- or rather, his "disloyal subjects" -- a sneak peek at the invite-only traveling exhibit for the film, and three new posters to admire:
Stunning, as expected. See how they work together over the jump...
Here’s one for ya: I didn’t actually love Love Actually the first time I saw it in the theater back in fall 2003. I thought it was unbelievably corny and hokey (and it is) and that it jumped around too much to ever get much traction with any of its plot lines or characters. I can’t recall exactly when or how a second viewing turned my head, but these days I love the movie for the corny and hokey, and it’s become one of my favorite rom-coms of all time.
(Another is About a Boy, which I also didn’t think was all that great on a first viewing and now adore. Maybe I’m just too cynical to let sappy romances sink in right away. Or I have a not-so-secret weakness for Hugh Grant.)
Point is, I fully understand why my co-redblogger James Rocchi and many other critics didn’t buy into everything Love Actually director Richard Curtis is selling in his newest film, Pirate Radio. By now, from James’ review and my interviews with director Curtis and star Tom Sturridge, you should know the basic premise of Pirate Radio (aka, The Boat that Rocked, its UK title): It’s Britain, 1966. Rock ‘n’ roll is barely played on the official BBC radio stations, so rock-minded entrepreneurs and true-believer DJs take to the North Sea to broadcast the music 24-7 from old converted freighters; even as the evil, uptight government plots to shut them down.
I’m easily seduced by the effective use of music in films, and the Pirate Radio soundtrack is stuffed full of excellent songs from the era. (All except the Beatles, thanks to licensing costs—but even that works in the film’s favor, allowing less-familiar gems to shine.) And the movie’s cast is a non-stop delight, from Bill Nighy doing his usual perfect lizard-like languor, through Philip Seymour Hoffman reprising his Lester Bangs routine from Almost Famous, to Rhys Ifans’ preening Jagger peacocking. The supporting tier of comic performances are also spot-on, including those of Nick Frost (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz), Chris O’Dowd, and Rhys Darby (Flight of the Conchords' moronic manager Murray).
Having seen it twice now, I’m fully aware of all of Pirate Radio’s obvious flaws: Its choppy, even lazy narrative structure full of contrivances; its reliance on the music to boost its energy and carry it along; its shallow misuse and abuse of its few female characters; its facile Us Vs. The Man politics; and of course Curtis’ deep love for grand, shameless, cornball gestures.
Curtis, who wrote Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill, and Bridget Jones’s Diary, is still learning the ropes as a director—and as much as he wanted Pirate Radio to play like MASH or Animal House, you can feel his heart isn’t really in the requisite scenes of silly hijinks and casual sex. (Even in Love Actually, when he tried to write a casual sex gag with Colin flying to Wisconsin to get laid, Curtis couldn’t help turning it back into a love connection.)
And yet, as James pointed out, if you go with all this and let the film’s glaring flaws wash away, Pirate Radio is exuberant, ecstatic fun. I could do that in this case, James couldn’t. I know exactly where he’s coming from: There are many, many supposed “feel-good” or “just-for-fun” movies where I just didn’t “feel” it or have “fun” and could not forgive them their failings. But frankly, I’m much more comfortable giving in, going with it, and letting blatantly manipulative charms smooth over weaknesses when the aimed-for end result is Curtis’s trademark brand of laughter and joy in service of his love for music—rather than, say, Hasbro’s cynical peddling of CGI cartoon violence and faux “honor” and “patriotism” in order to sell more Transformer or G.I. Joe toys.
I admit it, I’m ashamed at the guilty fun I had watching at least the first couple hours of 2012. Getting off on the spectacle of destruction and drawing glee from the death of millions is probably nothing you want to brag about. But I don’t apologize at all for loving Pirate Radio. It probably won’t end up on my Watch Every Year DVD shelf like Love Actually, but I’m already itching to see it again.
It’s cold, gray November in the Midwest, and having come off a month of nihilistic Halloween-y fright flicks, the theaters are now filling with smart-excellent-but-bummer films like Precious, The Road, and A Serious Man. So right about now, it’s nice to have Curtis’s huge-hearted film--with its unrelentingly giddy, chaotic love of rock--to take a bit of the chill off.
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