Nolan's 'Dark Knight' is a Cinematical Experience

The hype surrounding this movie is so huge that more than two weeks after its premiere, we still had to wait in line for a 7:30 p.m. showing on a Tuesday night. Bought tickets the day before. If we hadn't arrived 45 minutes early, there would have been slim picking for seats. The movie was showing at staggered intervals in three different mini theaters. By 2:00 p.m., all three were entirely sold out.

Nothing like getting a taste of the true Dark Knight phenomenon.

Generally, I avoid first run theater showings. Don't like crowds, the annoying munching of popcorn, or the guy behind me kicking my seat at odd intervals. Heck, I don't even like comic book super heroes. They're so ... well ... cartoony.

But something about this movie was different. Couldn't wait for the DVD debut. Like a beckoning Svengali, it infiltrated my psyche and wouldn't leave. I was completely enthralled, like putty in its hands. The psychological desire to be part of a mass experience became irresistible. Seeing it at home for the first time wouldn't do.

I hate spoilers more than plopping down eight bucks for a movie, so I'm not going to go into any detail about the plot. Yes, through jam packed action and wowzer special effects, the plot shines like a beloved two headed coin. Anything less would have been a true downer.

Acting and direction also shined, making the movie well worth the price of admission. If Heath Ledger doesn't win a posthumous Oscar, it will only be because a living contender came darn near close to his flawless performance. Ledger, R.I.P., is the embodiment of insanity. At one point in the film, I forgot he was acting. Unpredictable and psychopathic as any evil villain could possibly be, he had me transfixed by his kooky mannerisms, terrified of the next plot twist, honestly not knowing who or what would crumble under the weight of his lunacy.

Believe all the hype, the movie's great.

Two minor criticisms. The film is too long. It could have easily ended about two hours in, saving the remainder for the sequel. The old adage "sell 'em less but give 'em more" sometimes doesn't work when it comes to the movies. This was one time I wanted less, probably because I eventually became uncomfortable. At home I have the luxury of changing positions, stretching out, or hitting the pause button for a trip to the bathroom. Not so when joining the masses.

I also have a pet peeve about manipulative sound effects and background music. The movie went overboard on the former. No, I do not enjoy jumping in my seat due to booming effects. I suppose these have somehow become mandatory date movie material, in which case definitely bring along your hot significant other for gratuitous nooky.

Other than these trifling complaints, I've got nothing bad to say. Sheer entertainment approaching masterpiece. But make sure to buy tickets ahead of time and go early for choice seats.

Ours were midway center.

Don't you hate people who gloat?

Margot at the Wedding: A Movie Review

Abusive parenting. Inappropriate relationships. Absence of personal boundaries. Fractured personalities. Budding adolescence. Stunted personal growth.

Good foundations for an hour and a half exploration of the human condition, especially during a pivotal milestone such as a sibling’s impending nuptials. Even more so when a good chunk of the plot unfolds at the point of origin, her waterfront childhood abode. Unfortunately, these building blocks don’t coalesce into a believable movie going experience, making the storyline from this fascinating cast of characters a futile mishmash of gestalt.

Margot is in the midst of a life crisis, much of it her unconscious undoing over which she has very little control. To make matters worse, she wreaks havoc on the lives of those around her, some of them quite vulnerable and unable to defend against her insidious nature of attack. This has always been her modus operandi, but coupled with her personal dilemma, her gears seem to have switched into overdrive. Her sister’s unemployed fiancé isn’t good enough for her. Her son is becoming too angular. She goads dinner companions to test their seemingly normal son for autism, and viciously scolds her estranged husband when he transports an injured animal from the highway to the hospital.

Margot is not a monster, just showing a pair of horns. Her exploits are more palatable because she frequently changes her mind, and Nicole Kidman’s attractive physical exterior helps explain why she still has an inner circle of love and support. But the sum of these parts isn’t enough to buy into the dichotomy of Margot at the crossroads. And with a cast this good, the movie ends up being a terrible waste of talent.

So much of Margot at the Wedding is extrapolating the meaning between the lines. If it didn’t emphasize the climax with pictures, the laborious ending would be a complete waste of time. Come to think of it, much of what happens here is an eh, who cares?

The real problem is the story doesn’t make much sense. Her tweenage son should be trying to distance himself from a mother slowly going off the deep end. Instead, he clings to her for dear life. Her sister feuds with neighbors over a tree she envisions in her wedding, then makes her fiancé cut it down on the day before the ceremony. These essential plot movers are more like Claude screaming at the top of his lungs between moving trains than the signposts of life going bad. With a family this dysfunctional, I want to fully immerse myself in the angst and pathos. For much of the movie, Margot and her loony bin kept me at bay questioning the swirl of disaster from outside.

Go rent Margot at the Wedding for a touching debut from child actor Zane Pais. Great movie making from writer/director Noah Baumbach will have to wait for another time.

Disturbing "I Am Legend" Played Me Like A Violin

Hate gory sadistic horror films and not exactly a fan of futuristic sci-fi either, but something about I am Legend and the critical reviews grabbed my attention.

Love the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, mega huge fan of Baltimore-bred-and-educated wife, Jade Pinkett Smith (not the hair; sorry, hon), adore the blatant nepotic casting of young family members in this and his last flick (hey, if you've got it, flaunt it). Like other armchair critics (spoiler alert), I had no idea what to expect. Figured I would roll the dice and rent the DVD.

Yah, so now that it's over and I'm shaking like a leaf, I'll sum up in one word the voyeuristic experience of living only four years into the future stalked by humanoid carriers of a genetically engineered virus wreaking havoc on the few remaining strands of humankind, transforming the city of New York into a desolate hell hole, and punctuating almost every scene with an eerie fatalism of cure or be eaten: Disturbed.

Can't fault people (spoiler alert) for thinking this one is a masterpiece. This film has blockbuster (more spoiler) written all over it. Shooting locations unheard of in average run-of-the-mill fare. Recurrent themes of racism, beacons of light in the face of darkness, faith and ultimate redemption (bonus: the music of Bob Marley plays a pivotal twisted role in plot development). Butterflies and pathos. It's all there.

Yet, the sum of the movie's parts was frightening enough to make me cry, not from sheer horror, but from deaths of characters with whom I had briefly become attached. No, not the freaky mannequins, although Smith's performance in his second trip to the video store should have been nominated for an Oscar. Let's just say when the whole shebang climaxed, I felt drained like a played violin. I should have recognized standard movie ploys and kept my distance instead of allowing myself to connect with these incarnations of the human condition.

But don't go by me. I'm a marshmallow in the face of most horror and science fiction. Mind games I can handle. Cataclysmic destruction, not so much.

Impressive Sixty Second Videos from the 2008 Orange British Academy Film Awards

I'm a sucker for awards events. The swirl of glitterati, red carpet bursting in a thousand bulbs of flash, paps shouting "Over here! Turn left! Give me a smile!", stars gently nudging along at the behest of their nondescript handlers with an occasional entourage in tow, wannabes clamoring for interview crumbs. When awards season hits the scene, so does my inner stalker. Luckily for all involved, a big screen TV and cable are more than enough to send my demons packing.

Of course with all the Hollywood upheaval, this awards season is shaping up to be a hot steaming bath of dung. Case in point: The 65th Annual Golden Globes. I don't know about you, but if I glanced away from the screen just to scratch my foot, Mary Hart and whats-his-name had already announced a category winner and were racing on to the next. Yes, there is something to be said for condensing what used to be at least a three hour telecast into thirty or less minutes, but if I had my druthers I'd take fashion and glitz.

No wonder the announcement of 2008 nominees for the Orange BAFTAs left me pinging with excitement. The name itself is rather intriguing...don't you think? Orange? Is there a Purple BAFTAs too (as a Ravens fan I had to ask)? The event's location in the UK is huge! No striking writers or picket lines and unlike the Oscars, fans will not have to contemplate possible letdown.

Normally, I would not give the Orange BAFTAs a second thought, but now everything is different. Now, stars are hungry to walk a red carpet in glam. Now, gobs of people need a celebrity stalker fix. Now, plenty troll videos of last year's award shows just to gossip about Jack and Johnny. If I had known last summer what I know today I would have paid far more attention to the MTV Movie Awards. Bring back the snark!

Over to BAFTA's website I traveled.

Since my modus stalkerendi is not the Orange BAFTAs, I have no idea whether their traditional format includes an award for Short Film Making Iniative. If not, it should. This is an amazingly cool category tailor made for the web. Aspiring film makers submit sixty second videos embodying a pre-chosen theme. This year's theme is "unite." Visitors can rate and vote for their favorites. The Academy chooses fifteen regional winners to rub elbows with real tinsel at the February 10th telecast. A grand prize winner is announced at the ceremony.

There's even something for the little people. More Magazine is running a contest with Nicky Clarke to style one lucky winner's hair. Benefits include grazing with the A-list on the day of the show.

I don't know how many sixty second shorts the British Academy received. Probably thousands. Could be millions. At sixty seconds a clip, I could afford to view some. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending upon one's point of view, new job responsibilities prevent me from fully devouring this cinemagraphic cornucopia. If you have a lot of time on your hands, I strongly urge you to run -- not walk -- to their website and begin watching. Online voting starts on January 28, 2008 and ends midnight on February 3, 2008. You may need the January 28th lead time just to view all the entries.

While you're there, don't forget to vote for the Orange Rising Star Award. My spyware program popped a phishing warning, so you may not want to divulge your true e-mail address with your vote. Don't tell anyone, but I made something up and voted anyway.

If you don't have time to kill on videos, here are ten fairly impressive film shorts with something for everyone in no particular order:

The Photo Man - Clever use of cinematography reaffirms the power of love.

Santa's Unite - Engaging mockumentary on the herding rituals of Santas.

Lady Peaceful - Horror noir lives happily ever after.

Love Hurts - A brief encounter between a robot and cactus produces something beautiful.

Common Ground – A single photograph unites the heartbreak of women.

Peek-A-Boom - Worlds play cat and mouse, then collide in a burst of brilliance. My nomination for best make-up.

Directions - Souls collide in an unexpected manner.

Hound(ed) - A man struggles to understand why society seems united against him.

Red Herring - Excellent use of the color red leaves much to the imagination.

number 88 – Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Jonathan Ross will host this year's Orange BAFTAs at London's Royal Opera House on Sunday, February 10, 2008.

Bridge to Terabithia Brings Children's Book Classic to Life

My children must be the few left on the planet who’ve never read the book, Bridge to Terabithia, either because their teachers never assigned it, or Nickelodeon never made it into a full-length feature cartoon.

On one of my rare nights out at the movies, the trailer splashed across the big screen. I tucked the fantasy images into the back of my mind but, as always, awaited the critical reviews. These days, only top of the line films can coax me into a movie theatre.

Despite all the promise of a new Disney film classic, the movie barely passed critical muster. A tepid C+ rating from the Broadcast Film Critics Association. Combined worldwide box office receipts and DVD rental fees hovering under $200M. Only the lead actress, AnnaSophia Robb, received any critical acclaim. By conventional standards, the film was a big yawn.

Now, having finally screened the DVD, I am puzzled by the laisez-faire critical reaction. Certainly, the themes of Katherine Paterson’s book -- imperfect home lives, being an outcast, building relationships, learning tolerance and trust, appreciating ourselves for who we are, discovering our own place in the world, and striving to be one’s best -- are vividly brought to life. Where did the adaptation go wrong?

The story unfolds through a child’s eyes when the world was an oyster waiting to be cracked. Jesse Aarons is a talented young artist locked in the body of a fifth grade boy. Like most children, he lives in a world where others define his identity. His blue-collar parents mean well, but are too busy making ends meet to give him the special recognition he craves. Other kids pick on him. Older sisters torment him. Teachers barely notice him. Jesse is a wooden soldier who barely dares to dream.

Then, quirky Leslie Burke moves next door. The only child of well-to-do writers, Leslie effortlessly creates a world of her own through the power of imagination. She sees life the way others can only dream. Jesse is drawn to the way she handles adversity. No matter what you do, the eighth grade bully will try to put you down, so have fun with it, Leslie advises. A stick of gum can make life taste better. Helping another person is a way to help your self. The two rapidly become fast friends.

Leslie’s life affirming perspective turns possibilities into reality. Jesse slowly begins to follow her lead. Together, they transform a swath of land behind his parents’ property into the fantasy kingdom of Terabithia. “We rule and nothing crushes us” becomes their motto of invincibility. Life as Jesse knows it begins to change.

In Terabithia, Leslie teaches Jesse to do for the sake of enjoyment rather than outcome Together, through the power of collective imagination, the two share whimsical and magical adventures. Terabithia is everything the fantasy life of kids should be. When the heartbreak of reality rears its ugly head, Jesse is left with a life altering decision. Will he vanquish the unwelcome intruder or will he retreat back into his mind-numbing world? Ultimately, Jesse must decide which bridge to cross. By doing so, he chooses his own identity.

If you haven’t read the book, don’t expect a spoiler. Also, do not be deceived by the film’s PG rating. Its life lessons are unsuitable for younger children. The Disney classic, Old Yeller, immediately comes to mind. Finally, do not expect to be wowed by the special effects of WETA, the studio created by Peter Jackson of Lord of the Rings fame. Critics were understandably unimpressed by the animation hype. Perhaps that’s the reason they considered the film such a disappointment.

If so, the critics got the movie all wrong. Bridge to Terabithia is not about the special effects. It’s about the story. Really look hard and keep your mind wind open. If you do, anything is possible. The message may not be unique, but the journey is sure worth the ride.

First Trailer Tease for Sex and the City Movie

It's he -ere. The first trailer tease of the Sex and the City Movie!



Oh -kay, then, yah. This is the film I've been anxiously anticipating? The one that seemingly went on hiatus on account of diva battles and hissy fits? If SJP didn't plant a big wet one on Noth, there would be no incentive whatsoever to catch this sorry splice of Manhattan fashion. Sorry, people, you'll have to do better.

SATC fans want fashion excitement. That big fat white hibiscus? Over! I've already seen it on so many web sites, by the time it appears on the big screen, it'll signal little more than a good time to hit the bathroom.

What about romance? Sexual tension? Did the promo people think inconsequential snippets of dialogue would suffice?

Is the entire movie a dream? Is Carrie stuck in a delusional sweat inducing fever resulting mass hallucination? The background music seems more than mere coincidental innuendo. Oops. Am I giving away the plot?

I'll lay odds in Vegas this flick will not be released in the spring.

Clunker or blockbuster? Too early to decide? Give us a clue. The producers of this film certainly aren't.

Evan Almighty is a Likeable Fantasy

Do you believe in miracles? Do you have faith in a higher power (a/k/a God)? Do you believe politics is fraught with corruption? Say it with me now, “Thou shalt do the dance!”

The critics were wrong about Evan Almighty, nominee for MTV’s Best Summer Movie You Haven’t Seen Yet 2007 Award, starring Steve Carell, Morgan Freeman, and Lauren Graham. Genesis 6:14 is lovingly brought to life in this updated fable of change and redemption. The actors are physically pleasing and sufficiently expressive, the plot relatively easy to follow, the cinematography is at times breathtaking … what is not to like?

In his day, Noah was the ultimate rebel, a testament to belief in a higher power doing what God commanded by building a gigantic ark. All the while, he endured the taunts of disbelievers who eventually perished in the ensuing flood. Likewise, Steve Carell is newly elected Congressman, Evan Baxter. His prayers land him in the unenviable position of constructing a biblical sized ark in modern day suburbia. Morgan Freeman, in the role of an affable human God with bad teeth, prods Evan along, despite criticism from his family and work staff, camera crews parked outside his newly acquired McMansion, and the prying lens of C-SPAN. Nobody drowns in this likeable comedy from Director Tom Shadyac, although John Goodman, playing a greedy congressional blowhard, suffers a final comeuppance some might liken to a fate worse than death.

A few gags are laugh out loud funny, provided your taste in humor is one brow short of high. The closing credits alone are to die for BUT do not fast-forward or scene select if you want to get the full impact. Animal lovers will also appreciate the film’s prominent inclusion of furry, scaly, and feathered beasts. One scene in particular has Carell covered in head to toe birds. Animatronics or not, the display is impressive, if only for the two undeniably real creatures who flutter on board before the cut. In a later scene, cute raccoons break bread with their caretaker. Cameo appearances by lions, snakes, skunks, and alpacas, along with stellar performances by Wanda Sykes, Molly Shannon and Jonah Hill of Superbad fame round out the cast.

Throughout the film, perhaps not so subliminal messages suggest lofty goals. Spend more time with family. Don’t focus on outer appearances. Do what is right even in the face of obstacles. Reach out and help your neighbor. We’re all in this together, whatever this is, whether we want to be or not, so act for the greater good.

Luckily for Evan Baxter, God steers him in the right direction and yields little room to wiggle out. If the rest of us mere mortals want to change the world, however, we'll have to aspire to one "ARK," roughly translated as one act of random kindness at a time. With the right amount of belief and fortitude, miracles can and do happen. An uplifting message hard to come by in this day and age and isn’t that the magic of movies after all?

Now everyone get up and dance.

BlogWorld: An Equal Opportunity Random Celebrity Encounter Provider

Las Vegas continues to amaze and delight this small town girl. It's probably one of the few places on the planet where odds of randomly encountering a celebrity increase exponentially relative to the amount of time spent in public gatherings. The caliber and quality of random celebrity encounter, however, is a completely separate matter.

For example, anyone signed up for the Executive and Entrepeneur session of BlogWorld had the option of attending a private screening of The Kite Runner on Wednesday night. Not many did. Don't get me wrong, the event was well attended. It just wasn't a theatre filler. Too bad for the ones who missed out. Celebrity film critic, radio talk show host, political blogger, and all around media entrepeneur Michael Medved acted as master of ceremonies. The organizers didn't publicize Mr. Medved's participation, nor did they dangle the possibility of meeting the film's lead actor, Khalid Abdallah. To say I had my socks knocked off not only by the movie, but also the opportunity to press flesh with these celebs is an understatement. Afterward, Mr. Abdallah and I spoke briefly outside. Very impressive actor who really knows his craft. He's waiting for the next good project to come along. This is a guy who can afford to be choosy.

Last night, BlogWorld hosted a happening party at the Hard Rock Hotel. My chance meeting with celebrity satirist, comedian, Letterman guest, political commentator, and all around funny guy Evan Sayet was definitely a highlight. I'm not too proud to admit, Evan did not immediately register on my celebrity radar. Something about the way he looked me in the eye and said, "Don't you know me?" made me think if I didn't know him, then I certainly should.

We chatted for a while over at the slot machines. When I told Evan I liked to make fun of celebrities, he was a little reluctant to spill about himself. Luckily, I managed to steer the conversation over to politics and family. That's where he began to open up and show his more meaningful side. I don't have enough time this morning to reveal every nook and cranny. Suffice it to say, Evan is a charmer who understands the error of his youth. To sum it up in one sentence, self-indulged Americans of his era refused to acknowledge the tried and true maxim of actions have consequences. I'd say that maxim continues to hold true today, wouldn't you?

Then, there's the mysterious red bus "from Mexico" with continuously running video parked outside the Hard Rock at about 12:30 a.m. I use the quotations because who knows the true origination of this vehicle. A slew of black suited men piled out as I left the casino, leaving the impression of an impending celebrity appearance. I asked one of them who remained inside, but couldn't get a straight answer.

"Just someone from Mehico," was all he would venture in a charming Spanish accent.

"Who?" I anxiously replied. The guy stayed mum and walked away.

Must be someone really big, I imagined. With nothing better to do and no one prodding me along, I decided to stand there and wait -- all night if that's what it took -- to glimpse the big name celeb inside. Needless to say, after 15- 20 minutes, no big name celebrity debarked. In fact, the bus eventually packed up and pulled away. Either the person inside is of such high caliber celebrity they can afford to be completely full of themselves, or I'd just randomly encountered some Mexican show girl too shy to show off her ill-fitting cheap red dress and spiked heels. Either way, the experience left me feeling slightly unfulfilled, like I had just been robbed of some exciting story to tell my eventual grandchildren.
Or not.

Hey, I hear O.J. is in town for the second day of hearings on his armed robbery charges. Hmmmmm. Courthouse or BlogWorld? BlogWorld or the courthouse? Where should I go? For someone as fascinated with all things celebrity, is there really any question?

O.J.'s a hack. Everyone who's anyone is going to BlogWorld. See you people over at the Convention Center.

No Reason to Hate Catherine Zeta-Jones

Catherine Zeta-Jones is a superstar. So proclaims Jeanne Wolf in "A woman you’d love to hate," Parade magazine, July 15, 2007. Can’t articulate why I delayed posting my reaction to this shameless plug, but knew I would do so eventually. The eagle has landed.

Catherine Zeta-Jones may look good in a mask and a tight flirty dress. I agree she deserved the 2002 Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance as Velma Kelly in the movie version of Chicago. But superstar? Come on. When was the last time the current Mrs. Michael Douglas opened a blockbuster or lined investor pockets by starring on Broadway? Anybody?

Certainly, no one can claim her current film, No Reservations, will be anything more than a modest success. Haven’t seen it and after perusing reviews, don’t plan to. She’s not exactly the first actress who comes to mind when I think about Hollywood heavy weights.

The point is, Parade's piece of fluff goes so far overboard it’s treading open seas. Talk about pandering. This doughboy achieves a whole new level of obnoxious.

"I Never Expected This Life," gushes Catherine in the hard copy headline. If average folk like myself believed everything we read, we would sell our souls to the devil to trade places with her. "Charmed" does not do justice as a descriptive adjective for the life of Ms. Superstar Zeta-Jones.

Naturally beautiful. Two gorgeous healthy children. Amazing body. Paid millions to work in a career she loves. Married to a Hollywood power player. Crazy in love. Close relationships with parents and in-laws. Four luxury homes. Spends most of her time on the family’s Bermuda estate.

I could go on, but if I do, I may have to satisfy an irresistible urge to stick my finger down my throat. That would require stuffing my whole fist in my mouth, a feat I have yet to accomplish.

I hate this woman!

Not really. The truth is, I think Zeta-Jones is very talented. Generally, I enjoy her performances. I just can’t get over the level of envy this article engenders. No one’s life, not even Santa Clause's, is that blessed. Surely, she must suffer some degree of problems. Surely, she must put on her Manolo Blahniks one very luscious leg at a time. Surely, Ms. Wolf didn’t omit juicy tidbits alluding to the less than fab aspects of Catherine’s existence because there aren’t any.

For those who are similarly minded, look no further. What follows is my own inimitable conjecture gleaned from between the lines:

1. The relentless flash of American paparazzi left her with no choice but to plant her children in Bermuda, far away from the Hollywood buzz. As evidenced by her latest flick, being out of the loop prevents her from landing roles of substance.

2. Although her husband, Michael Douglas, is still very attractive, he looks like her grandfather and is probably older than her own father. That has to be a big turn off in the bedroom.

3. At age 62, it’s unlikely her children, ages 7 and 4, will have their father to guide them through the majority of their adult lives. Catherine will likely be single or remarried when the time comes to spend holidays, birthdays, and special occasions with any grandchildren.

4. I've never see her pictured with stepson, Cameron, who I hear has a drug problem. She also has to contend with ex-wife, Diandra. Family functions can’t be very pleasant.

5. She’s too famous to live in Great Britain, her native country. The large distance between her places of residence and the residence of her parents, with whom she says she is very close, has to at times be painful.

6. She is "always thinking something could happen" to her children when they engage in normal activities like climbing or jumping. Most famous people are also on guard for kidnappers and stalkers. She must worry every time her children are out in public or just plain out of sight.

7. The life her family leads is not in any sense “normal,” even though that’s the kind of life she says she wanted her family to have.

8. Her own husband says she’s a nightmare in the kitchen (to Wolf’s credit, the article briefly suggested as much).

9. She fights with people who cross her. This means there must a lot of people who don’t like her. I never hear about the Douglas’ friends or people who regularly hang around. Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure Cat and Michael have oodles friends. I just can’t help but think hers are of the phony persuasion.

10. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks." After describing a litany of fears primarily concerning her children and Michael’s driving, she emphatically declares, "I don’t live afraid." Hah! Having signed a prenup paying more in the event Michael cheats, along with other valid concerns, I’d say she has plenty more to fear than the average bear.

The Future for "Premonition" is Bleak

I just finished watching the movie, Premonition, starring one of my favorite actresses, Sandra Bullock. A riveting premise taking a wrong turn down to the place of no return.

Get off at the nearest exit.

I don’t know who is more responsible for this clunker, the writer or the director. My bet is on the latter. I don’t care if he and Sandy shared little German moments on location, this movie did not gel.

For starters, which part is the premonition and which part really happened? Don’t just expect the audience to know. Presenting the days out of order is a brilliant disorienting device, but the plot still has to tie together at the end. Once the progression of days appears illogical, the movie can’t possibly work unless when unfolding sequentially, the days convey some sort of rhyme and reason. Otherwise, the audience is left with a “Huh?” or their lips, kernels of popcorn in their teeth, and nothing to write home about.

Second, like an unwrapped present accidentally discovered in a closet recess, Premonition never delivered the goods. Even after watching the bonus features, I couldn’t understand why on Thursday, Sandy couldn’t remember how her kid cut her face on Tuesday, and to add insult to injury, got carted away for it on Saturday. Even if her character suffered a complete mental breakdown, the two girls should have remembered how the accident occurred and told their story to the men in little white coats, or at the very least, to their grandmother.

Third, I cannot stand when music is purposefully injected into a film to manipulate the audience. Over the years, I have grown immune to such cheap ploys. Cut the violin from the shower scenes. It doesn’t work. Ditto the long pauses. Sandy looked ridiculous. Two seconds – at most – is long enough for the meaning behind her wonderfully expressive facial features to register in the minds of village idiots.

As the plot became more intense, the movie simply spiraled out of control. Loose ends hung so miserably, someone ordered an alternate ending. The original ending must not have tested well in California, because the alternate ending became the real one in theatres. How sad.

Both endings were such a disappointment no matter how many ways sliced. Here I thought the plot was working its way toward something very powerful, like the pay off in The Sixth Sense, but it never materialized.

While lamenting the choice of directors in this film, I came up with my own alternate ending, one I believe works much better with the disorienting technique, and which makes much more sense to the plot. Get this. Her daughters die with their father in the horrific crash, but this is too traumatic for Sandy to process, so she continues to imagine them alive. At the outset, we see she has grown disoriented. Like Nicole Kidman in The Others, she can’t come to grips with her misfortune. As she works with the shrink, the painful memories come flooding back. She cannot forgive herself for failing to recognize the signs of her daughters’ death in her premonition, only that of her husband. In the end, she becomes insane.

Movies like this are largely responsible for my decision to rent most movies rather than pay obscene amounts of money in theatres. My alternative was to find a job as a full-time movie critic, but I probably would have quit after a few weeks. Love the thought of being paid to watch movies; cannot imagine the torture involved in reviewing turkeys like this.

Thankfully, Sandy was in just about every scene or the movie would have been unbearable. Ever since Vanished, I have loved that little crinkle in her nose, the little skip in her step, and the way she eyes the camera with those slightly parted lips. Those who croon, “But you’re married,” please simmer down. I’m merely praising the woman, not wooing her.

Finally, the last outtake in the bonus features blooper reel is hysterical. If anything, rent the DVD just to see that.

The rest of this flick you can throw in the shower.

Can't Get Enough of those Simpsons

Sorry. I've been away on vacation. It's hard to keep blogging when you're away and having fun. I'll admit, the articles from last week were a little...meh....so what? At least now the whole world can understand why.

I first caught Life in Hell, a highly intelligent, avant-garde comic strip, in Baltimore's City Paper around 1989, give or take. Authored by Matt Groening, slightly dark, but funny as all get out, I could really relate to those rabbits. I remember being very disturbed when the paper stopped carrying it. After some digging, I found out why. The paper didn't drop the strip, rather, the strip dropped off the face of the earth. Groening stopped writing it. I was all set to start a letter writing campaign, you know, like the fans did with Jericho. Then The Simpsons came along. The rest, shall we say, is history.

Haven't caught the movie, but heard it is LOLF. In lieu of a review, here's my little tribute. The Simpson character is my own, courtesy of Matt and Fox head honchos. Special thanks to Zackkim.com. The featured guitar player is quite astounding.

Just one teeny tiny request to Matt (if I am ever so lucky for he of comic lore to drop by): Please bring back the bunnies.