Coffeerooms On DVD

Nothing But the Truth

2009-06-25T13:32:36Z

Nothing But the Truth
Kate Beckinsale, Matt Dillon
3 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Ripped from the headlines... Is it another episode of "Law and Order?" No, it's "Nothing But the Truth," a thriller centered around a reporter's sense of integrity and the high price she pays to keep it. The truth is, "Nothing But the Truth" is a taut, tense political puzzle with bravura performances by Kate Beckinsale, Vera Farmiga, and Noah Wylie, as well as judicial journeyman Floyd Abrams.

The plot bears a striking resemblance to the government's case against C.I.A. agent Valerie Plame, whose identity was outed by New York Times reporter Judith Miller. Miller's articles claiming Iraq had WMDs (weapons of mass destruction) were cited as a catalyst for Bush's decision to turn Iraq into a Middle Eastern sinkhole. Complicating Plame's plight was her husband, Ambassador Joe Wilson, who had written an op-ed piece for The New York Times accusing Bush and his cronies of trumping up information in order to justify the "war" against Iraq. When questioned about her source, Miller refused to name Plame, even though Plame's involvement was considered a fait accompli. Wilson claimed the Bush administration had exposed his wife's identity as payback for the article he'd written, and the steadfast journalist wound up doing time in order to protect her source.

Writer/director Rod Lurie has taken the "Plame Affair" and flipped the details. In "Nothing But the Truth," reporter Rachel Armstrong (a focused Beckinsale), is told that Erica Van Doren (vexing Vera), a seemingly innocuous soccer mom who spends her spare time reading to children, is really a C.I.A. operative. To Rachel, it's the equivalent of finding out Natasha Fatale from "Rocky and Bullwinkle" is your kid's den mother. Digging deeper, Rachel discovers that Van Doren was sent to Venezuela on a fact finding mission following a failed assassination attempt on the President. Van Doren was the only agent to determine the Venezuelans had nothing to do with the botched presidential hit. Rachel realizes that if Van Doren is correct, the President's order for retaliatory air strikes inside Venezuela was a colossal international blunder. The government is more concerned there might be a traitor in their midst than who's right, and they want someone's skin, whether they're the security risk or not. Coincidently, Van Doren's journalist husband, Oscar Van Doren, has been critical of the President's regime. Oscar, Oscar, Oscar. Nice way to deflect attention from your spouse.
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DuBois: It's been my experience that Ms. Armstrong will tell us.
Agent O'Hara: She's never had her Vassar ass in jail. She'll crack.
Van Doren: I don't know. I met her. I looked her in the eye. She's a water walker.

The plot may be telegraphed, but there's plenty of mental ping pong as Rachel's fortitude gets tested like that of a judicial Jobe. The battle lines between Rachel and Patton DuBois don't blur as much as writer/director Lurie claimed in interviews. He clearly manipulates the action so the audience is sympathetic toward Rachel being strong-armed by single-minded DuBois. So be it. DuBois is a certified cold-blooded conservative government droid with the heart of a prune who revels in torturing Rachel, so he deserves the audience's contempt.

It doesn't take the mind reading skills of Karnack to figure out that once the ink is dry on Rachel's article the judicially naive reporter is going to get nailed by the government's vengeful hammer. You'll also surmise pretty quickly that Rachel is going to dig her heels in and stand by her principals and not name her source, even if it means ankle bracelets and three squares a day for a few years. But Beckinsale's performance transcends the obvious choices her character makes. The resolute expression on Beckinsale's face as she walks down the cold prison hallway bound for another discouraging meeting with her lawyer and DuBois says she immersed herself in the role. Her skin is blotchy and pale, her eyes rimmed red with fatigue, yet there's not an ounce of waver in her voice or a hint she'll capitulate, and Beckinsale perfectly personifies Rachel's political persistence. Beckinsale also manages to suppress her aristocratic British accent, sounding all American. (Yet another talented Brit who can sound like they were raised in New York at the drop of a crumpet.)

Matching Beckinsale's solid Jesus-on-the-cross performance is Vera Farmiga as exposed C.I.A. operative Erica Van Doren. Rachel Armstrong's article ruins Van Doren's career and her life, but she's not going down without letting everyone know she doesn't like getting screwed. Van Doren's invective filled scene at Rachel's house is one of the film's most tense moments, as is Van Doren's meeting in a graveyard with her boss and an upstart fellow female agent who revels at her being eight balled. Viva Vera.

I love liberals, but I don't like Alan Alda. I quickly tired of his smart alecky career-making character Hawkeye Pierce on "M.A.S.H." Since "M.A.S.H" he's played a series of educated even-tempered, know-it-all bores. (See if you can stay conscious during his pasteurized performances in "Crimes and Misdemeanors" (I'll avoid the obvious joke), and "Sweet Liberty," which he also had to take the blame for writing.) Burnside is a slight variation, although having him be a clothes horse is a welcome tweak. Alda is unexciting; fortunately the role nearly fits his workmanlike performance.

What's also surprising about Alda's Burnside is his high degree of failure. He completely underestimates DuBois' McCarthyesque power. Burnside fails to keep DuBois from condensing Armstrong's inquiry to trial process from a week to a day; he loses his appeal to keep Rachel from being jailed, repeatedly fails to spring her, and fails to protect her when the judge releases her out of sympathy. When the judge then pointedly tells both him and DuBois that the charges against Rachel will be dropped unless she's officially charged and arrested, you can practically hear DuBois warming up the Hummer, waiting to arrest Rachel the moment she steps through the prison gate. And Burnside doesn't see this coming? Guess that's what you get when a lawyer is defending you pro-bono.

Rod Lurie purposely cast pug Matt Dillon in the role of Patton DuBois because he wanted someone out of the ordinary to play the part. He should have gone full out and hired the unintelligible Sly Stallone or the incomprehensible John Claude Van Damme (or is it John Dam Van Claude?). Watching Dillon squirm and parade stiff-legged in a suit and mumble his lines is like taking in Al Capone reciting Shakespeare. Dillon adapts one of those lagging a George Bush Texas accent that suggests he's a buffoon, but like our ex-Pres, his unlimited power makes him a dangerous dumbass: "You're going to be asked to appear before a grand jury to identify your source. I'll be doing the asking. If for some reason you don't identify your source, you'll be held in contempt and that may mean jail time, and we're not talking about some Martha Stewart cell with some butler nonsense."

As Rachel's boss, Bonnie Benjamin, Angela Bassett hound is square-jawed, cut and determined. It doesn't hide the fact that like Dillon, the harder she tries, the less educated and convincing she sounds. David Schwimmer was the least likeable "Friend," and his years separated from Monica, Rachel, Chandler and the others haven't endeared him to the public. Playing Rachel's husband (How's that for a "Friends" irony?), he still comes across as a schlub, a whiner. For a man with a wife who's prolonged incarceration is crushing their family and has caused him to stray, he lacks any kind of emotional fire. He must've gone to the same acting school as Matt Dillon. Judging by what you see on the screen, neither of them graduated.

A few other actors leave lasting impressions. Angela Bassett hound's real-life husband, Courtney B. Vance ("Hunt for Red October"), has a small role as the hot-headed F.B.I Agent O'Hara; and Jamey Sheridan, who starred with Vance in "Law and Order: Criminal Intent" has a brief cameo as Vera Farmiga's writer husband, Oscar Van Doren. (Aha, six degrees of "Law and Order" separation.) The most satisfying and unexpected performance comes from Noah Wylie (wimpy Dr. John Carter on "E.R."). Wylie plays lawyer Avril Aaronson with the type of anger and passion Alda's Burnside should have had. Lurie drafted Floyd Abrams, a lawyer who specialized in first amendment cases, to play Judge Hall and to serve as a consultant to the film. I have no objections, your honor. Even though he has no previous acting experience, Abrams is much more believable than Dillon or Bassett are in their roles.

Can You Handle the Truth? The Extras...

In the feature "The Truth Hurts: The Making of the Truth," Rod Lurie and his actors delve into the film's point of view and what each character represents. He's most appreciative of Vera Farmiga, calling her "One of the great acting beings on the planet." Lurie also states prophetically that the most surprising actor in the film is Wylie (and he is), and he's enthusiastic about the dead-wrong casting of Dillon, but at least had the right blueprint in mind for his character: "Patton is a posturing bully who takes his assignment personally, but he's smart, vengeful and patriotic."

Some of the most interesting and informative comments come from lawyer turned actor Floyd Abrams, who's litigated first amendment cases and seen the damage done by overzealous prosecutors.

As Rachel Armstrong rots in prison and even takes a major beat down from a fellow prisoner over who gets the top bunk, you'll still ask yourself, "Good Gawd, is all this suffering worth protecting someone's identity?" The film's sneaky, seemingly innocuous final scene in which Rachel's source is finally revealed will undoubtedly leave you thinking, "Yes, it's worth everything she had to endure." And that's the truth.

Passengers

2009-06-18T13:29:26Z

Passengers
Anne Hathaway, Andre Braugher
3 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

"Passengers" is a fulfilling ride, but I'll warn you -- it's also a slow one. (Ironically, "Passengers" passed through theaters faster than the snack cart on a Jet Blue flight.) It's been pigeonholed into the suspense/thriller genre - but most of the action is psychological, although the nail-biting airline crash is retold in a series of Dragon Coaster rides that will leave you clutching the arm rests on your Barcalounger. "Passengers" is more the story of love transcending life, and it has a supernatural twist at the end that outshines anything M. Shalmar Night has concocted lately.

Therapist Claire Summers (elegant Anne Hathaway) is asked by her mentor Perry (benevolent Andre Braugher), to treat a group of survivors from a fiery plane crash. One of the passengers, Eric (bland, Patrick Wilson, purely on display as eye candy for the ladies), doesn't display the typical damaged emotions of a survivor. Unlike the others, he's euphoric, intent on turning his second chance at life into a series of suicidal stunts. The flashbacks Eric has been having of the crash are responsible his irrational behavior and have lead him to the realization of where he is and what's happened to him. His fears are supported by several appearances by a haunting, blue-eyed Husky:

Eric: That's my dog.
Claire: What?
Eric: That dog. He's buried in my back yard. He died when I was six.

When Claire's patients tell her conflicting stories about the crash she questions Arkin, an airline official (a deceitful David Morse), who emphatically blames pilot error. As Claire's patients begin to disappear one by one, she starts to believe the airline is hiding the cause of the crash and wants the witnesses wasted. The answers that Claire unearths about the crash shake her to her core and will take you on a twisting ride into Twilight Zone territory.
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As Eric, Patrick Wilson has to balance his euphoria with his hidden wounded psyche. Wilson handles Eric's troubled side, but can't upgrade to champagne when he's asked to access his character's playful Miller Lite personality. He rides his motorcycle without a helmet, jumps into a freeze-your-butt-blue river, and plays chicken with a moving train. His hell bent on dying young thrill seeking will make you wonder why Claire would risk her rep to bed such a disturbed cretin. When Eric's upset, he's like Porky Pig on a caffeine drip, a cartoon character so jumpy you might want to say: "Tha...Tha...Tha.. That's all folks..."

...But hang in there for David Morse's appearances. Morse ("The Green Mile," "The Negotiator," "The Crossing Guard" - lotsa "The's" in his resume) is one of those studied character actors incapable of giving a bad performance. For most of the film you'll want to smack Morse's Arkin, who appears to be heartless, divisive, and uncaring. At the end of the film, when all the twists and turns connect, your heart might just go out to him. When an actor can turn his character inside out, that's a great performance.

Andre Braugher (Detective Frank Pembelton in "Homicide: Life on the Street") maintains his guise as Claire's mentor, and you probably won't realize the motives behind his actions until the plot's other worldly threads are neatly bound together. The same could be said of Diane Wiest's character if she wasn't so dippy, annoying, and too knowledgeable about so many personal tidbits in Claire's life that Claire hasn't shared with anyone. Diane is a waste. Clea DuVall's rebellious slacker, Shannon, falls into the adversary becomes ally role, but she's so nasty in the early going you won't care what happens to her, despite her sob story childhood. Sadly, wrinkled William B. Davis (the "X-Files'"malevolent "Cigarette Smoking Man") who plays Eric's grandfather, is little more than a two cameo apparition with no lines.

Get Your Ticket for the Extras...

"Passengers" has a full manifest of extras, including, deleted scenes, a "making of" documentary, and the special effects spotlight, "Analysis of the Plane Crash."

There's a trio of deleted scenes, "Claire Finds out the Truth," "Claire at Norman's House," and "Claire's Dream Sequence." Claire's conversation with Eric at his apartment kite dream sequence at her sister's house were likely dropped because they revealed too much of the plot with all the subtly of a kamikaze attack. The scene with Norman (one of the group of survivors Claire's treating) should have made the flight. It's a revealing moment of clarity for Norman that foreshadows Claire's awakening.

The documentary "Manifest and Making of Passengers" profiles the stars, producer Judd Payne writer Ronnie Christensen, and the film's M.V.P., production designer David Brisbin. It's clear from the actor's observations that they took crash courses on their character's behavior: "A lot of this movie is about there being more to life than just being safe," Hathaway says of Claire. Reflecting on Perry, Braugher adds, "Perry is the person who challenges Claire (and) guides her. He's a father figure."

Okay, I'll admit it. I love Anne Hathaway - probably for all the wrong reasons. She was a heterosexual haven in "Brokeback Mountain" and a breath of bitchy, self-destructive wit in "Rachel Getting Married." She's well on her way to eclipsing other famous acting Anne's, including Brancroft, Francis, and Baxter. When she does, "Passengers" may disappear from her manifest like Amelia Earhart over the Pacific, so now's the time get your boarding pass. "Passengers" is an econo class thriller with first class performances by Hathaway, Morse and Braugher that makes it worth the price of a ticket. Fasten your seat belt.

Will and Grace

2009-06-17T17:37:08Z

Best of Friends and Foes 3.5 out of 5 stars
Best of Love and Marriage 2.5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Boy meets girl... Boy meets boy? Doesn't sound like the basis for a hit show. But "Will and Grace," a sitcom about the misadventures of two best friends living together as roommates in New York City, ran for eight laugh-filled years.

What separated "Will and Grace" from other shows was not only its witty one liners, but its controversial, nontraditional story line. Roommates Will Truman (Eric McCormick) and Grace Adler (Deborah Messing) were a sexual yin and yang; he was a gay lawyer, and she was a straight interior designer. The show also showcased Will's unfettered gay lay about buddy Jack McFarland (Sean Hayes), and Grace's caustic, pill popping privileged assistant, Karen Walker (Megan Mullally). Throw in Karen's bulldog maid, Rosario Salazar (Shelley Morrison) to keep Karen in check, and stir in generous portions of over-the-top guest stars, and you have the makings of a self-sustaining hit series.

Lionsgate has released two 2CD compilations, "Best of Friends and Foes" and "Best of Love and Marriage." There aren't any extras and the episodes don't run in chronological order (so a lot of ex-boyfriends get to be ex-boyfriends again), but the cutting dialogue between the deliciously neurotic Messing and the amply endowed Mullally shows they were as potent a comedy team as Lucy and Ethel.
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Hetero in real life, McCormick does a credible job of playing a gay man without turning into a screaming queen along the lines of Harvey Fierstein or Boy George (pre-hard time). Sean Hayes? Now he's a raging queen. As jumpin' Jack McFarlane, Hayes is usually on screen just long enough to not be annoying. Hayes is a gay Jerry Lewis, full of boundless energy and quirky bon motes. The writers wisely let him take Jack's self-absorbed narcissism (or is it nar-sissyism?) to the extreme (remember the autobiographical musical "Just Jack?").

Despite Messing, Hayes, and McCormick, "Will and Grace" would be a run of the mill without helium-voiced, bountifully bosomed Megan Mullally as Karen Walker. She keeps Grace on constant fashion alert, making fun of her hair, wardrobe, and ironing board figure, while willingly accepting and promoting comments about her pill-popping, partying and pulchritude: ("I don't think that I've ever been stressed out. Why would I be? I've got practically no responsibilities, my job's a breeze and I've got a killer rack.") On the surface, Karen's a self-centered, pampered lush who can pump out insults faster than Don Rickles on bennies, and she's siphoning cash from her humongous husband, the unseen Stan. But a heart does beat beneath that generous chest - she's got a soft spot for "Poodle" (Jack) and considers him her closest friend, despite her ignorance and abhorrence of his lifestyle; and when Grace is so distraught over her failed marriage or an unexpected pregnancy that even Will can't cheer her up, Karen drops her acidic modern May West guise to give Grace the righteous wisdom of her experience. Jack may be Karen's confidant, but her laconic maid, Rosario, (Shelley Morrison, who starred as Linda Little Trees in "Laredo" in the 60s with my favorite actor, William Smith) is Karen's acerbic zoo keeper who can match her insult for insult and pile on the put downs.

"The Best of Friends and Foes" has a roster of rowdy stars who dive into the zany plots with the zeal of pre-schoolers pulling apart Play Dough. "Saturday Night Live" alum Molly Shannon shines as Val, a divorcee with a warped wit who takes over as Will's new best friend in the episode "Grace Replaced." Grace and Val's tug-of-war for Will's attention ends up in a comedic cat fight that hilariously overshadows Shannon's return in "Fagel Attraction":

Val: You're looking at a totally new me.
Grace: Why? Are you working as a team with the people in your head?
Val: No, I'm on a new psychotropic drug. Sure, I have no sex drive and I'm always dizzy, but I think I can be a really good friend.

Cher shares the episode "Gypsies, Tramps and Weed" with Constance Manheim, who plays Psychic Sue, a seemingly phony baloney huckster whose predictions, much to Will's dismay, keep coming true:

Will: Psychic Sue said I was going to spend my life with a guy named Jack.
Jack: Jack who?
Will: Jack you.
Jack: Jack me?
Will: No thanks!

Cher wears a smug smirk throughout her only scene, but it's most likely because she was on the verge of breaking up. She had to keep a straight face, but you don't have to - and you won't be able to. Despite a face lift that makes her look like her own wax figure in Madame Toussaint's, Cher is all aggression and attitude - no stretch since she plays herself, and Hayes does a great impression of her. Do you believe in love...ho! Jack's encounter with Cher winds up sounding like the battle of the network Cher's, and it's a real hoot because he mistakes her for a drag queen rather than the flesh and botoxed real deal.

Ellen DeGeneres is on board as Sister Louise, a holy entrepreneur who runs "What a Friend We Have in Cheesecake" in the episode "My Uncle the Car." (For those of us old enough to remember a TV series once referred to as the worst of all time, the title tweaks Jerry Van Dyke's short-lived 1965 series "My Mother the Car," about a talking car. Hmm...That'll never work.) DeGeneres is her usual coy, clean self. Compare her appearance to that of Minnie Driver, who appears as Stan's new lover, Lorraine, in the episode "Homojo." A bigger concern for Karen than losing her corpulent husband is Lorraine's determination to steal Jack away from her. I've always thought Driver was a plain-looking, middling talent. Slap her in a negligee and let her carry on in cockney and I stand corrected.

You gotta love an actor who can poke fun at himself. Kevin Bacon's guest slot as a pompous and greedy version of himself brings out the laughs in "Bacon and Eggs," which finds Jack stalking the star, then finagling a job as his assistant. On the other hand, Madonna displays the numbing sense of timing, flat delivery, and overstated facial expressions that made her a box office smash in "Shanghai Express." She takes up too much camera time in "Dolls and Dolls" as Karen's new roommate, although watching Karen trying to figure out how to open up a can of soda is a priceless sight gag.

Demi Moore must be Dorian Grey's sister because she's ageless. Her role as Jack's babysitter in "Women and Children First" is a bit disconcerting and way out even for a show that flaunted ridiculous situations. But watch for Rosanna Arquette in a cameo and Leigh-Anne Baker in the reoccurring role of Ellen, who frequently pops up to extol the evils of marriage.

A quartet of guests brighten "I Do, Oh, No You Di-Int," which features Monty Python's John Cleese as Karen's squeeze, a surprisingly funny Harry Connick as Grace's husband, and Jennifer Lopez making her entrance coming out of a toilet. Lopez is unexpectedly sharp as she trades quips with Karen. Tim Curry (Dr. Frank N. Furter in "The Rocky Horror Show") bursts on the scene in a flurry of lip locks and energy, proving once again he can be funnier in 30 seconds than most actors can be in half an hour.

Someone needs to cut Brittany Spears some slack, the girl can act. She plays "Amber Louise from the great state of Alabama," a rival for Jack's position of host of Jack's cable show in "Buy Buy Baby." However, in the same episode, George Takei is stiff as Romulan ale playing his recently proud and outed self. And you'd think bold and brash Wanda Sykes would dominate a guest shot that called for her to be Karen's surrogate mom, but Wanda's psyched out - a timid and hesitant actress.

Whoever cast he-man paisan Bobby Carnivale as Will's self-conscious boyfriend should turn in his Dell; Carnivale just can't play a weakling convincingly, although in the same episode, "Will and Grace and Vince and Nadine," charming Kristin Davis (wasted in "Sex in the City") shows she can play an edgy, okay, crazy character and generate laughs.

The biggest "What the?" bit of casting goes to Michael Douglas, who guest stars in "Fagel Attraction." Douglas' character has a crush on Will and will go to any lengths, including posing as a detective investigating the theft of Will's laptop, to get a date with him. Douglas is a great actor and is given some snappy (and snippy) lines, but you can practically see him squirm when he's slow dancing with Eric McCormick, and he's often wide-eyed, a telling sign of discomfort. He's as believable as a flim flam man with a bridge to sell.

The second 2CD set, "Love and Marriage," isn't as laugh packed as "Friends and Foes," but it still has its moments. As my redneck would friend would say, "Love can be funny, and even 'funny love' can be amusin'." But how many boyfriends can pop up in the storylines like squeaky jack-in-the-boxes before their routines seem well, routine? Depends on your quotient for whiny men -- and that goes for Grace's boyfriends too.

The roster of guest stars includes the late hoofer Gregory Hines, 60s cinema virgin Debbie Reynolds, Tin Pan Alley pianist Harry Connick and man-i-quin Taye Diggs. Hines plays Will's self-made, mordant first-class only boss Ben Doucette in "Ben? Her? (Pts. 1 & 2)." Ben goes from being Grace's harshest critic to her Daddy Warbucks lover over dinner. Connick has more on-camera savvy than his creaky swing albums would lead you to believe, displaying comedic charm as Grace's husband, Leo Markus, despite being written in when the show had jumped the shark and was gasping harder than marathon runner with a three pack a day habit. The real hoot is Debbie Reynolds, who plays Grace's brassy, Broadway show tune belting mom, Bobbi Adler. She steals every scene she's in: "Grace dear, I hear you're marrying a gay black man. Wouldn't it have been easier just to run me over?"

Ahem. Will and Grace... You'll have a gay old time.

The Day the Earth Stood Still

2009-05-06T12:34:53Z

The Day the Earth Stood Still
The Remake
2.5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

"Klaatu Barada Nikto..."

Those words, uttered by British actor Michael Rennie in the 1951 science fiction classic "The Day the Earth Stood Still," remain one of the most instantly recognizable movie catch phrases. The fact that the fabled phrase is garbled and has been rendered unintelligible in the 2008 remake sums up the new version's overall effect. The remake has enough stunning special effects to occupy the eye, but not enough plot to placate the mind. In an attempt to be separate itself from the original, yet pay homage to a movie that defined a genre, "The Day the Earth Stood Still" winds up resembling a film version of a comic book. The script is dumbed down, and instead of characters from the fourth dimension, we get a stiff, one dimensional Keanu Reeves in the title role.

The original film played into America's fears of a doomsday cold war with Communist Russia (then the U.S.S.R.). Michael Rennie played Klaatu, an alien emissary from the United Federation of Planets sent to earth with a warning: stop your flirtation with atomic energy or you'll be "eliminated." Klaatu is shot by a soldier before he can deliver the message to the United Nations. Gort, a metallic robot built to protect Klaatu, demonstrates his superior technological power by liquefying the Army's guns and tanks, then mysteriously shuts down, keeping everyone on the planet wondering when the silver sentinel will wake from his slumber and strike again. Klaatu is taken to a hospital under heavy guard, but is eager to learn more about the human race and to find out for himself if we're worth saving. He escapes, assumes the name "Mr. Carpenter," then takes a room in a boarding house run by working mom Helen Benson (Patricia Neal) who has a young, inquisitive son, Bobby (Billy Gray). "Carpenter" attempts to keep his identity a secret, but his ignorance of earth customs (and being observed going into his spaceship), leads to his being chased down and killed by the Army. Gort exacts his revenge and reanimates Klaatu, who warns earth to stop the violence or risk retribution: "The decision rests with you."

Instead of atomic energy, the cause for concern this time around is the earth itself, which is dying from our abuse and neglect. Instead of a flying saucer, Klaatu emanates from a luminescent blue ball that looks as if it belongs getting kicked around a public school playground in the Bronx. As in the original, Klaatu is shot just as he is about to make contact with the scientists assembled at the landing site. The act of unprovoked violence activates mile-high robot Gort, who aggressively seeks retribution until he's stopped by Klaatu. While recovering from his injuries, Klaatu is questioned Regina Jackson, the Secretary of Defense (an overbearing and annoying Kathy Bates). Jackson believes Klaatu is part of an invasion force. She later changes her mind (aha, a true politician), convincing herself that Klaatu is an intergalactic Noah sent to gather us up two by two. (Here's some Hollywood irony for you. As a favor to Jonathan Harris, who co-starred with Michael Rennie in the "Harry Lime" adventure series from 1959-65, Rennie played a character called "The Keeper" on Harris' hokey Sci Fi TV series "Lost In Space" in 1966. The Keeper, who collected animals from around the universe, was a veiled version of Klaatu.) ]]>
So what makes the remake of "The Day the Earth Stood Still" so different from the original? Aside from the spaceship to glowing ball upgrade and nuclear threat to environmental disaster switch, an important subplot is the modernized Helen/Jacob/Klaatu dynamic. "Father Knows Best" kid actor Billy Gray portrayed Bobby in the original as a wide-eyed, gee willickers, wholesome 50s kid who liked baseball, respected his mom and was fascinated with Mr. Carpenter, the mysterious border. The remake calls for the old stepson disobeys the step mom because daddy's dead conflict, but it's a nice twist having Jacob dislike, distrust, and betray Klaatu. It's also interesting that the writers chose the more hip name Jacob over Bobby, which would have made the kid sound like one of the Brady Bunch. The conflict between Jacob and Klaatu ultimately doesn't deliver because Reeves' Klaatu is hollow emotionally, so he's oblivious to Jacob's bad intentions, but it does set up a tense scene in which Helen is literally yanked from where she stands, which forces Jacob to rely on Klaatu for his survival. Another new development is Klaatu and Gort's ability to let out a high pitched squeal that brings humans to their knees. No word on how dogs react to it, however.

There's also a slam-bang interrogation scene that runs the gamut from dynamic to amusing in which Klaatu zaps his interrogator, then turns the tables on him:

Interrogator: Are you aware of an impending attack on the planet Earth?
Klaatu: You should let me go.
(Klaatu then shocks the interrogator.)
Klaatu:   What gate did you use to enter this place?
Interrogator: The east loading dock.
Klaatu: How do I get there?
Interrogator: One hundred yards left from the back of this building.
Klaatu: Is there a security code?
Interrogator: Four-four-Bravo-three-0.
Klaatu: What size is that suit?
Interrogator: Forty-two long.
Klaatu: Take it off.

Keanu Reeves has the impossible task of trying to top Michael Rennie's iconic performance in the original. (Even Rennie couldn't do it. He was so good as Klaatu that he kept getting offers to portray similar benign and malignant aliens like Klaatu up until his unexpected emphysema-induced death in 1971.) Rennie's Klaatu was gentle and gentlemanly, with an aristocratic accent that suggested he'd been to finishing school instead of Alpha Centauri. Reeves has the disadvantage of playing a character that has to mature physically as well as emotionally during the early part of the film. His Klaatu is stiff, measured and unemotional, which plays right into Reeves limited acting range. He's good at projecting a convincing, blank, non-blinking stare that's robotic and dead as road kill and suggests only pre-programmed brain activity. You half expect him to say, "Dude, where's my robot?" As I've said before, I have a soft spot for Michael Rennie because his niece remains my favorite ex-girlfriend and best friend. A few months ago I said Reeves had better be good in the role and he is - but he's still light years away from Rennie's performance.

Jennifer Connolly is an accomplished actress, having starred in "A Beautiful Mind" and "Blood Diamond." De-glammed for the role, she sports eyebrows as thick as Groucho Marx and appears to have been a subscriber to a bread and water only diet. As Klaatu's (and earth's) guardian angel, Connelly is well intentioned, but unexciting. Although she's the film's moral compass, at times she's as mechanical and cold as Klaatu. Connelly holds her own with what she's asked to do (which isn't much), but she's scuttled by her character's analytical personality, and her awkward relationship with her late husband's son is so superficial Helen and Jacob come across as bickering strangers rather than two people needing two work out deep seeded problems. So Patricia Neal's working mom portrayal in the original easily wins the leading lady comparison contest. The whiskey-throated Neal thought the original film was a hoot, so she reportedly was on the verge of laughing most of the time, but you'd never know it on her performance. Given more of an opportunity to display wonderment, fear, and shock at what's happening, and despite the high heels, Neal comes across as the superior action hero.

Making Gort a CGI monster as tall as a three story building? Bad idea. Having him transform into a death dealing, landscape disintegrating swarm of locusts? An even worse idea. Gort should have been allowed to run amuck, squishing buildings like a galvanized Godzilla and melting tanks into Tonka Toys with his death ray vision. In the original, Gort was played by Lock Martin, a 7' 7" giant in a metal suit. The problem was Martin wasn't a well man, so he couldn't lift Michael Rennie or Patricia Neal as required, which lead to dummies or children being used as stand ins. In the scene when Gort carries Klaatu into the spaceship, Martin pushed Rennie on a dolly and the scene was shot from behind. Martin was further weakened by the lack of ventilation and the weight of the suit, so much so that in some scenes you can see his arms shaking. Martin's suit had a zipper near the neck that was visible in one scene and his knees crinkled when he walked, but the eerie Theremin soundtrack and death-dealing laser vision made Gort one of sci-fi's scariest creatures. In the remake Gort is just tall; a motionless monolith, a lost opportunity.

The idea of having Reeves hatched from a placenta-like space suit is a plus. The time he spends "acclimating" to his new body is not because it allows Kathy Bates to bulldog her way across the screen and make the action stand still. I'll admit it - I cursed out loud when I saw Bates' name in the credits. I always confuse her with the more talented and infinitely more graceful Kathy Baker. (They're both Kathy's okay?) Having Reeves questionable talents on board is daunting enough; giving Bates the opportunity to display her overrated, overbearing buzz-killing abilities is another. Bloated, blustery and bullying, Bates is a bitchy battleship, bossing and beating everything and everyone in her path when she's on screen. In some scenes she doesn't even bother to interact with the other actors and even steps on their lines. She just bellows, berates, and bye-bye. There's no moderation. She's an obnoxious, unbearable puffed up windbag with the mannerisms of John Candy in drag. I know the role of Regina Jackson was written that way, but I've yet to see Bates give a performance where she wasn't annoying, abnormal, or alien. Maybe she should've played Gort.

I don't like child actors (except for breakfast), and Jaden Smith's bratty performance is child abuse. Smith is the sainted son of superstar Will Smith and Jada Pinkett (see if you can spot their cameo appearance), which kind of makes him nouveau riche Hollywood royalty, but doesn't excuse his ineptitude or give him the right to stink up the screen. Smith pouts, sputters, and mumbles his way through his lines. With his generous Jeri curls and puppy dog eyes, Smith is going to be a stunning photo op when he gets older. But in the pure talent department, Billy Gray wins the moppet comparison showdown big time.

In a plot twist borrowed from "Men in Black," veteran character actor James Hong (vicious villain David Lo Pan in "Big Trouble in Little China") plays Mr. Wu, an alien who's been living on earth masquerading as a human. (Why are all Asian badmen these days named Wu?) Wu meets Klaatu at McDonald's to give him his report on mankind and his opinion that we're worth saving. (Maybe one of Mickey D's apple pies would have helped.) The scene also borrows from "The Hunt for Red October," with Klaatu and Wu speaking in Chinese (subtitles are provided). The dialogue switches to English so we don't have to strain our eyes, but you get the feeling the characters are still conversing in a foreign tongue. The scene and the character of Wu are a pleasant addition to the original script. Too bad the originality isn't sustained.

Hong only appears in one scene, as does John Cleese, who takes over the quirky role of Dr, Barnhardt, the brilliant scientist first assayed by Sam Jaffe (Dr. Zorba in "Ben Casey"). Cleese gave a credible dramatic account of himself as a liberal-minded but tough sheriff in "Silverado," but he's too zany here, too scattered, and speaks as if he's trying to break a record for most vowels uttered in a minute. It's impossible to take him seriously. In the original, the conversation between Jaffe's professor Barnhardt and Klaatu was conducted as if the two were intellectual equals, or at least were operating within the same mental universe. Cleese is so A.D.D.'ed and unhinged that Klaatu should've been pressing the "destroy the earth" button with the speed of light.

The remake also suffers from a few continuity problems...When Klaatu's gunshot wound begins to bleed, he pulls back his jacket to reveal to the audience that he's bleeding on the left side of his chest. When he applies the magic placenta goop to repair himself, he dabs it on the surgery scar on the right side of his chest. Hmmm. Bates' Regina Jackson certainly seems convinced of her own omnipotent powers and self-importance, but the Vice President or the President couldn't put in a cameo with an alien wandering around Central Park? And who's the genius that decided to leave a potentially dangerous emissary from another planet all alone in a room to be interrogated by someone who looks like Woody Allen's weakling cousin? They placed guards down the hall, but not inside the room? As for the film's timeless phrase, "Klaatu barada nickto," see if you can figure out when it's uttered. Can you imagine Dirty Harry without "Make my day," or Arnold without "I'll be bock (back)?" There are better ways to be differentiate the new model from the original than by cutting out or garbling the film's most legendary line.

The remake also undercuts any attempt to build tension by altering the original's soundtrack. Granted Theremin "music" may be a bit dated, but when you hear its eerie sound effects, in the original your body gets the chills.

It's the special effects that make the remake of "The Day the Earth Stood Still" worth a little time travel. The script is slapdash and has plenty of holes, but it's hard to live up to the perfection of the original. Reeve is no Rennie; but he's spooky enough to make you believe he's not from East L.A.

Doubt

2009-05-03T14:28:45Z

Doubt
Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams
4 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

No doubt about it, this is one powerful film.

"Doubt" is a no nunsense tale of morality played out by a troupe of actors blessed with divine talent. The script occasionally lags under the weight of Catholic guilt, but it's not hard to see why "Doubt's" four leads were blessed with Oscar nominations.

"Doubt" takes place in 1964, the year after John F. Kennedy's assassination, in the midst of The Beatles' ascension, when the winds of social change were slowly beginning to blow. At St. Nicholas in the Bronx, Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman, projecting a man-of the-people image), is a liberal-minded priest respected by students and faculty alike for his progressive ideas, topical sermons, and pleasant demeanor. Sister Aloysius, the school's principal (Meryl Streep, effectively portraying every Catholic student's nightmare), rules through fear, believing that transistor radios, ball point pens, and a loosening of the school's strict rules of conduct will erode the very fabric of the nation. Neophyte Sister James (a wonderfully astonished Amy Adams) notices Father Flynn is paying an usual amount of attention to Donald Miller, the school's first and only black student (who's also an altar boy). She shares her concern with Sister Aloysius, who concludes Father Flynn is a pedophile in priest's robes. She seizes the opportunity to rid herself and the school of a man she believes to be a free-thinking fraud. Is Sister Aloysius championing a witch hunt, or a righteous crusade? A war of wills ensues between Father Flynn and Sister Aloysius that tests both faith and fortitude:

Father Flynn: I will fight you.
Sister Aloysius: You will lose.
Father Flynn: Where's your compassion?
Sister Aloysius: Nowhere you can get at it.

What brought "Doubt" so eerily close to my heart were my own experiences in a Catholic School in the mid-60s as their lone "Negro." I attended public school, but our administrators got the bright idea to start an exchange program - some of the Catholic school kids would get to experience the freedom of a public education, while some of us commoners were selected to try and deal with the terror and rigidity of St. Francis of Assisi. My experiences during that year weren't exactly like Donald Miller's, but there were enough similarities to make me wonder if writer/director John Patrick Shanley had probed my mind for his plot.

Like Donald, I was granted the privilege of being an altar boy. I lost my prestigious position when my fellow altar boy and I decided to experiment with the house wine. We nearly faked our way through the service until my partner practically flattened Father O'Brien with a six foot cross. Both of us were terminated after the service -- in the midst of being questioned, my partner deposited his portion of the wine on Father O'Brien's buffed Brogans.

]]> Like Donald, I had a mentor, Sister Michael, who was determined to look after her "shining star." Some of the other kids razzed me after she gave me a generous hug in the hall -- similar to the one Donald gets from Father Flynn, although I can't stress enough that I was hugging a woman and enjoying it. Fortunately for me, the other kids embraced me rather than ridiculed me, but there was no doubt Catholic school was a far stricter environment than this heathen was used to.

Bravo to John Patrick Shanley for recreating the sights and sounds of his childhood that prevailed in his Bronx neighborhood. From the solid steel sedans, to the ankle-length skirts, tenements with clothesline strung out like high wires, Brylcreemed boys and Donna Read coiffed girls, every image and accent says 1964.

The acting is uniformly brilliant. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is at his best when he projects the "new Catholicism," displaying a kind heart and a friendly, outgoing countenance toward his students. His good guy sheen takes a hit when he grows uncomfortable with Sister Aloysius' accusations. Then he acts like a blacklisted 50's Hollywood writer battling Joe McCarthy's Communist accusations - did he, or didn't he molest Donald Miller? The closer he thinks Sister Aloysius is getting to the truth, the more he sweats, chuffs and looses his composure. You never know for sure if he's telling the truth, or Sister Aloysius is. Genuflect to the talented dude with the white collar.

Meryl Streep continues to cement her reputation as one of filmdom's best actresses. Sister Aloysius is downright frightening, the type of yardstick wielding, bitter harpy who ruled the hallways of Catholic schools in the 60s. Chew gum in her presence and it'll wind up on your nose, talk in class and you get ejected, and the number of Hail Mary's you're forced to write will be based on the severity of your offense. She enters the film like a poisonous gas, seeping onto the screen, telling students listening to Father Flynn's sermon to sit up or shut up as she breezes past them. Streep also gives Sister Aloysius a tough Bronx veneer complete with a gun moll's accent - if her actions don't demonstrate she's no shrinking violet, then the tone of her voice will. She's The Wicked Witch of the West in a habit, so obsessed with fulfilling her personal campaign to have Father Flynn kicked from the pulpit that she's willing to break her most sacred vows.

Amy Adams plays naive, innocent Sister James. With her eyes wet with wonderment, Adams makes you want to give poor confused Sister James a hug. As the bystander who unwittingly sets the power play between Father Flynn and Sister Aloysius in motion, she's a Greek chorus, the audiences' eyes, ears and conscience. Like the viewer she's torn between the two characters, believing Flynn's sincere claim of innocence one moment and Sister Aloysius' single-minded determination the next.

Viola Davis is in two scenes - and the second time she appears in a crowd and doesn't speak - yet her presence hangs over the film like the scent of burning candles at a confirmation. Her small scene with Meryl Streep as Donald Miller's mother is the film's most singularly moving moment. Davis' hardworking mother has sacrificed her own life to get her son into St. Nicholas because she hopes graduating from the school will be a stepping stone to a better life. But she also harbors the secret that Donald is damaged goods - he's puzzled sexuality, depressed by his father's lack of love and physical abuse and he's treated like a pariah at school. Mrs. Miller knows Donald is crumbling and sees Father Flynn as his savior, as the only man who's ever cared about him. Davis packs an emotional six-pack into her scene, ranging from being quietly cagey to indignant and protective. Oscar worthy? No, she's not on screen long enough. If you leave the room for popcorn you'll miss her appearance. But any actress who can pull your attention away from Meryl Streep playing a character as frighteningly memorable as Sister Aloysius certainly deserves all the praise that was heaped upon her.

I've already commented in other reviews that child actors make me wish I was watching their performances live so I could pick them off with a howitzer like clay pigeons in a circus shooting gallery. The kids of St. Nicholas were competent enough to keep me from wishing I could sacrifice them at the altar. The character of Donald Miller is little more than a suffering siphon; but Joseph Foster has a way of misting up or making his features droop that hits you in the gut. Mike Roukis plays class tormentor William London with confidence and defiance. The smile that slides across his playboy features in his last scene proves that as in real life, bullies aren't always brought to task for their transgressions.

There's very little to complaint about... but here I go! Donald Miller is seen, by seldom heard. He looks properly petrified, confused and abandoned, but we never really get to gauge the passage of events through his point of view or his words. Even the wine guzzling that seals his fate as an altar boy takes place off camera, and there is precious little dialogue between Donald and Father Flynn that's revealing. But as I noted in the previous paragraph, Joseph Foster has the ability to look like Christ suffering on the cross. It's also impossible to ignore Shanley's heavy-handed usage of the weather, particularly the wind as an allegorical symbol, i.e. "wind of change," "a cruel wind," or his employing a sudden clap of thunder when a meaningful point is being driven home. C'mon John, we don't need divine intervention. The ending is a bit too tidy and abrupt as well. After the moral tug of war between Sister Aloysius and Father Flynn that spawns several harsh no holds barred confrontations, one of the characters is quickly shuttled off screen, while the other suffers a hitherto unthinkable attack of conscience.

You have to love a film that sets you up to draw you own conclusions. "Doubt" may leave you questioning your own faith or the piety of those who tell us to trust their judgment - and maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Make 'Em Laugh

2009-04-01T14:16:01Z

Make 'Em Laugh
The Funny Business Of America
4 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

The funniest joke ever told? It's here, along with a century's worth of prat falls, parodies and punch lines. Rhino's "Make 'Em Laugh," a 6-episode 3-DVD set, traces comedy in America from Chaplin to Carlin and beyond. A fast-paced funfest, "Make 'Em Laugh" is the Sistine Chapel of comedy - the more you look at it, the more you notice its intricate beauty. Or as comedy writer Anne Beatts says, "Make 'Em Laugh goes beyond the 'pie in the face' to the 'face behind the pie.'

Billy Crystal hosts the series, and it's painfully obvious from his first routine - a lampoon of Ken Burns' cinematic style - that he could have used some help from Mel Brooks, Neil Simon or Carl Reiner, three of Sid Caesar's writers. Amy Sedaris serves as narrator but she's incidental, never saying anything worth remembering. But don't worry about Billy's jokes not being crystal clear or Amy being less than amiable. It's the clips that count. Thankfully, they're plentiful.

The segment that doubled me over the most was episode three, "Slip On a Banana Peel: The Knockouts." I know, physical comedy is sophomoric. It plays off of someone getting clobbered or embarrassed to the point they need psychiatric help or a suit of armor. But after a humorless day staring into the mechanical glow of my Dell computer, someone falling off a ladder into a fountain is a helluva lot funnier than trying to decode Jon Stewart's political puffery. Sometimes you want an immediate payback without having to fire up too many dormant neurons to figure out what's going on -- and guys like Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Laurel & Hardy, The Marx Brothers and The Three Stooges were masters at delivering punches as well as punch lines.

Chaplin is rightfully recognized as the foundation of comedy as we know it. As ageless talk show host Joe Franklin, the king of nostalgia notes: "At one time people didn't say 'Let's go to the movies." They said, 'Let's go see Chaplin. Chaplin was the movies.'" Buster Keaton never smiled in his movies, but his audience did, and his death-defying scenes - done without the benefit of a stunt man - such as having a building collapse around him, or falling head first off a water tower, are still worth marveling at. Keaton was the Jackie Chan of his day. He broke nearly bone in his body for the audience's amusement.

Actor Michael McKean ("Spinal Tap") accurately paints a picture of Laurel and Hardy by saying, "Ollie was the dumbest man in the room, and Stan was his stooge. They were two minds without a single thought." Clips of the rotund southern gentleman and the clueless, baffling Brit trying to push a player piano up an endless flight of steps or battling comedic foil James ("DOH!") Finlayson are as fresh and funny as they were 70 years ago. As for The Stooges, few comedy teams were funnier or more destructive on a pure visual level. True, they owed much of their appeal to Joe Henry's sound effects, but they also made "soitinely," "numbskull," and "why you, I oughtta," part of our daily dialogue (okay I grew up with a rough crowd), and they gave a certain redhead who later teamed up with a Cuban bandleader a part in one of their short films.

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Rochester: Brace yourself. Your car's been stolen.
Benny: Stolen? When did it happen?
Rochester: Two hours ago.
Benny: Two hours ago! Why didn't you call sooner?
Rochester: I just stopped laughing.

Benny is credited with delivering "the biggest joke of all time," and if other noted comedians, including the exalted Jerry Seinfeld think its funny, then chances are you will too.

Among "The Wise Guys" segment's sharpest swordsmen are Don Rickles, W.C. Fields, The Marx Brothers (specifically Groucho), Phil Silvers, Paul Lynde and Redd Foxx. There's a clip of a thinly disguised Jack Benny appearing on Groucho's "You Bet Your Life" game show, where he introduces himself as "Ronald Forsythe." "Funny, it was Roger Forsythe during rehearsal," Groucho quips.

How much of the real W.C. Fields was incorporated into his inebriated imitations is left to the audience, but as many of the interviewees point out, Fields wasn't a happy man in real life. He loved the bottle and hated children, and his on screen battles with both are painfully priceless.

Paul Lynde may be underappreciated today, but he was one of TV's most snide, snickering, scathing, and likeable wits, an unspoken gay man who thrived as "center square" on the game show "The Hollywood Squares":

Peter Marshall: What's the one thing Paul, Dear Abby says you should never do in
bed?
Paul Lynde: Point and laugh.

Red Foxx made his name playing a junk dealer on TV, ironically using his real last name, "Sanford." Viewers may not be surprised at how salty and salacious his act was, but among the tidbits that will raise an eyebrow are stories of his close friendship with Malcolm X (they ran and robbed together), the popularity of his potty-mouthed party records, his battles with the I.R.S. and his I-dare-you-to-mess-with-me attitude. Comic Reynaldo Rey, who often performed on the chitlin' circuit with Foxx and Slappy White, provides a chilling portrait of Foxx patiently waiting for White to pay him back the $500 he owed him. Like many funnymen, Foxx was anything but off stage. Foxx carried a two shot derringer with him at all times for "protection." When he finally cornered White, he took a bullet out of the gun and threw it at White's head, saying, "If you don't give me my money, the next one will come at you much faster." Slappy paid up before he got beat down.

"When I'm Bad I'm Better: The Groundbreakers" honors the comedians and the satirists who stuck their necks out to make us laugh and often paid the price by being publicly drawn and quartered. Mae West battled the censorship code of the 30s and eventually was sanitized out of the movies ("I used to be Snow White, but I drifted."). Among the other ribald rebels are Tom and Dick Smothers, whose radical 60s variety show was smothered by CBS, and fellow political satirists Mort Sahl, Shelly Berman, and the team of Mike Nichols and Elaine May. The Mort Sahl I watched growing up was a government conspiracy obsessed nebbish who often spoke over the audience's head; he's more caustic and quicker in his youth. Forty years down stage, Sahl obviously still harbors some resentment toward Lenny Bruce being held up as a political martyr. He feels Bruce was a funny, blue comedian who got swept up in his own headlines and drug addiction, but Richard Beltzer disagrees, saying, "Lenny took it on the chin for all of us." The black and white clips of Bruce in his heyday and during the period where he spent as much time in jail will help you judge which man's perspective is closer to the real Lenny Bruce.

Richard Pryor and George Carlin, two comedians who not only were groundbreakers but also trendsetters, provide the chapter's highlights. Some of Pryor best work is
revisited - including jokes about his heart attack. You'll also get a glimpse of his tense "Saturday Night Live" skit with Chevy Chase, and see him deliver self-aggrandizing jokes about setting himself on fire. Carlin opens his own segment with a joke about Pryor: "I'd like to give you an update on the comedian death sweepstakes...As it stands right now, I lead Richard Pryor in heart attacks two to one...However, Richard leads one to nothing in burning yourself up." Carlin admits he loved crossing the line, and his piece, highlighted by his routine "The Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television," is a reminder of how clever he was at breaking the shoes of convention.

The remaining episodes, "Honey I'm Home: Breadwinners and Homemakers," "Sock it To Me: Satire and Parody" and the opener, "Would You Hit a Guy With Glasses: Nerds, Jerks and Oddballs" are sporadic, but still weigh in with their share of rare clips and guffaws. In addition to profiles of Burns and Allen, Jackie Gleason, Dick Van Dyke, Bill Cosby and Rosanne Barr, the sitcom-focused "Honey I'm Home" is highlighted by segments on two of TV's immortal sitcoms, "I Love Lucy" and "All in the Family." The genius of Jackie Gleason is revealed in the extras by producer/director Garry Marshall, who relates how "The Great One" once pulled off a hilarious scene without having read the script; and although Lucille Ball was looked upon as completely humorless off stage (even by herself), she was viewed as assiduous on camera - she got Red Skelton to teach her mime, and recreated Harpo Marx's famed mirror scene on her show with Marx.

"Would You Hit A Guy With Glasses" skimps a bit on Bob Hope, but offers some very pleasing profiles of other comic jerks and oddballs, including Jonathan Winters, Winter's clone Robin Williams, Woody Allen, Cheech and Chong, Phyllis Diller and Joan Rivers (pre-cat woman surgery, and prior to when her funny bone was removed). Allen's herky-jerky geek bit was never more than null and dull for me, but fans will be treated to early footage of him spazing his way through several routines on TV. Winters may be a mess mentally in real life, but he's still quick to ad lib, and Jack Parr's assessment of Winters accurately sums up his talent: "If you were to ask me who the funniest twenty five people are, I'd say Jonathan Winters." One of the episodes uncovered gems is seeing Cheech and Chong on "The Dating Game" competing with an All-American square for the affections of singer Helen Reddy.

"Sock It To Me" doesn't quite have the punch of the other episodes, but it does have some knockout moments, including a high-energy Sid Caesar, Carol Burnett (with a clip of her penultimate parody of "Gone With the Wind"), Richard Nixon's appearance on "Laugh In," (which he claimed got him elected), and Jim Carrey carrying "In Living Color."

There are many profiles of comics who deserve more recognition spread over the three discs. Silent film giant Harold Lloyd, who played against his good looks by donning a pair of tortoise shell glasses and portrayed gullible, green college freshmen, is interviewed in the 60s, along with footage that attests to his athleticism; Gertrude Berg (who? star and director of "The Goldbergs"), gets her due as a pioneer of early TV -- she wrote over 10,000 scripts. Jackie "Moms" Mabley's "Grandma" character comes across as more smutty than she did when I was an innocent 10 year-old wishing she'd get off the stage so I could see The Dave Clark Five on "The Ed Sullivan Show": "I've been accused of liking young men...I'm guilty...And I'm gonna get guiltier!"

The name George Burns brings to mind a doddering Macanudo sucking centenarian who puffed out one-liners and got to play God in a movie with John Denver, but not enough people remember his wife and partner, Gracie Allen. Gracie played the endearing ditz to George's gruff curmudgeon, and the clips of the couple display their punch line per second timing as well as Burns' intuitive ability to play the clueless straight man: "To be a straight man you have to have talent, and you have to develop that talent. Then you have marry her like I did."

I'm sure there are a few people who'll take issue with some of the comics that are either in or out. There's no mini-tribute to "Mr. Television," Milton Berle, and where's Shecky Greene? (Just kidding. I just like the name Shecky.) Fred Allen, whose satirical wit was a perfect match for Jack Benny during their comically rigged feuds on radio and TV, is briefly seen but not heard, and I found it ironic that there's a clip of Richard Pryor taken from the "Flip Wilson Show" with the host coming to the stage, but there's no mention of the man who created Geraldine Jones. I get that some folks think Andy Kaufman was hysterical (I just think he hysterical in a mentally defective manner), but the clip showing Jerry Lewis lip synching to a record -- and doing so in a much more laughably creative manner, renders much of Kaufman's act moot. Watching Kaufmann challenge women to wrestle was a worn out bit in the 80s that was as ripe as Bruno Sanmartino's tights, and anyone who's was taken in and amused by his guise as obnoxious lounge singer Tony Clifton deserves to sit through his frustratingly dull segment.

Make 'Em Laugh Some More...The Extras

Each chapter offers extended interviews with the likes of George Carlin, Billy Crystal, Carol Burnett, Rosanne Barr, Garry Marshall and Dick Gregory, who relates how close a young Richard Pryor came to blowing his career because he literally exposed too much of himself on stage. Burnett tells a risqué remembrance of Lucille Ball, who realized she had a lot to learn about producing when she took over Desilu from ex-husband and partner Desi Arnaz. You'll also find out how punk rocker Elvis Costello inspired a "Saturday Night Live" sketch, how a conversation with Bill Cosby moved Jeff Foxworthy, and what Billy Crystal learned from Groucho Marx.

The best part of "Make 'Em Laugh?" It lives up to its name.

In The Electric Mist

2009-03-31T14:49:59Z

In The Electric Mist
Ned Beatty, John Goodman
2.5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Strange things seem to happen down New Orleans way... I once dated a beguiling bayou beauty whose brother discreetly told me if I broke her heart, what was left of me would be hauled out to the swamps for the gators to feast on. Guess he must've been a consultant for "In the Electric Mist," because that's one of several potentially absorbing plots that sinks deeper than a shrimper's net.

Dave Robicheaux (the always riveting Tommy Lee Jones), is called to the scene of a murder. The victim has been sliced and diced, and the local law enforcement admits her death may be another in a long string of killings by a serial swamp slasher. Robicheaux lines up his suspects. At the top of his list is his old baseball buddy, the local gumbo godfather, Julie "Baby Feet" Balboni (John Goodman, having a bayou blast). Baby Feet recently invested in a film being shot in the area, and Robicheaux's convinced his old teammate is up to something more than just being a patron of the arts.

Award-winning actor Elrod Sykes (a totally miscast Peter Sarsgaard), is the seldom on set star of the local film project. Sykes is a barfing, irresponsible mess who's somehow managed to win the love of his co-star Kelly Drummond (Kelly Macdonald, so disposable they didn't bother changing her first name), who wants nothing more than to save Sykes from himself. Much to Robicheaux's dismay, Sykes also happens to be his daughter's favorite actor.

Robicheaux first encounters Sykes and Macdonald when Sykes' nearly crashes his expensive sports car into him while trying to negotiate a routine turn. Robicheaux threatens to hang a DWI charge on Sykes until he blurts out he saw a skeleton wrapped in chains submerged in the swamp. Sykes' tall tale brings Robicheaux back forty years... When he was young, he saw a black man, bound in chains, being chased into the swamp and shot... You should be able to see through the mist immediately - somehow the young woman's murder and Robicheaux's suppressed memory of seeing the black man's demise are going to connect.
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Baby Feet: What's going on, Dave?
Robicheaux: Had a long night last night. Found a girl last night in a barrel down in St. Martin's parish. She was covered up in blue crabs.
Baby Feet: Oughtta run her again. We'll have gumbo.

Levon Helm, the last living lead singer for The Band, plays Confederate General John Bell Hood. (Huh?). Since Hood died in 1879, he may be a manifestation of Robicheaux's conscience, or the result of Dave having been slipped an LSD mickey at a party. The idea of Robicheaux having a cordial chat with a Civil War general is ludicrous, even if he is Robicheaux's hero, but Helm gives his ghostly philosopher more compassion and wisdom than the script affords the living characters. I'm loath to give anybody credit for playing a Confederate, but Helm's as good an actor as he is a drummer and a singer, and that's mighty good. The guy who sang "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," "Up on Cripple Creek" and other Band classics has carved out a handsome second career as an actor, having snared major roles in "The Right Stuff," and "Matawan." (He starred with Jones once before, playing Loretta Lynn's father in "Coal Miner's Daughter.") He can add his portrayal of John Bell Hood to his impressive body of work.

Helm's voice is still sandy from his bout with throat cancer, giving Hood genuine grit. There's no mistaking he's a genuine rebel. Dressed in a mud and blood spattered Rebel uniform, Helm's Hood deals out measured parables about sticking to one's guns. Sadly, Helm only appears in a few scenes. The first time he appears, he issues out of the ghostly amber of a campfire like swamp gas:

Robicheaux: Am I dead?
Hood: You don't look like it to me.
Robichaux: You're at Gettysburg. The war's over.
Hood: It's never over. I would think you'd know that. You were a lieutenant in The United States Army weren't you?
Robicheaux: My head hurts...My head hurts...
Hood: Venal and evil people are destroying the world you were born in. It's us against them, my good friend. Don't compromise your principals or abandon your cause.
Robicheaux: Do you know what's waiting for me down the road?
Hood: For one reason of another, I find I have more insight into the past than into the future.

Mary Steenburgen steams up her scenes as Robicheaux's wife, Bootsie. Along with General Hood, Bootsie is the film's calming conscience. Characters named Boostie seldom get much to do, but Steenburgen's warmth will make you believe that she and Jones have been a couple for nigh on to twenty years. John Goodman gets to enjoy playing a nefarious, not necessarily villainous character, cussin' up a blue streak. (With all the variations of accents being tossed around I actually thought his name was "Baby Fat," which believe me, suits him.) Goodman's character runs red herring interference for the film's real bad guy. The problem is Robicheaux spends so much time pointing a finger at Baby Feet, trying to intimidate him and even set him up, you'll figure out pretty quickly Baby's elevation to prime suspect is a rather transparent device to fatten up the plot. As one character with an I.Q. of a crawdad points out, Baby Feet would order a killing, but he wouldn't dirty his hands carrying one out.

Ned Beatty ("Deliverance," "Nashville," "Network") is one of Hollywood's busiest character actors. His role of Twinky LaMoyne, the owner of the town's sugar plant, is a series of brief walk ons he could do in a catatonic state. (Twinky...sugar plant...I get it.) Ned's screen time consists of denial - he denies being partners with Baby Feet, denies being partners with ex-cop Murphy Doucet, whose security company is watching over the film, then denies being the type of person he is:

Beatty: A lot happened between the races back in that era, but we're not the same
people, are we?
Robicheax: I think we are.

It's a waste to throw a blanket of boredom over an actor like Ned Beatty. Ned may be in the bayou, but he barely breaks a sweat.

Musician Buddy Guy plays Sam "Hogman" Patin, who throws Robicheaux a few clues to crack the identity of the black man found chained in the swamp - and how he got there. "Hog Man" is a real old school southern black man, proud, but wary of the white man and his wrath. Guy is as stiff as Jeff Davis' moldering corpse. Stick to the guitar, Buddy.

Although it's set in New Orleans, "In the Electric Mist" could have been shot anywhere. The only sights that separate the area from the rest of the south are the air boats, hanging kudzu, and stock footage of the devastation left behind by Katrina - including the shocking sight of a house resting on top of a truck.

There are no jolts or tricky turns. The only surprise is the anti-climatic reckoning meted out to the real villain who isn't all that scary, just sleazy. (He's so incidental to the action you'll be hard pressed to find the actor's name in the credits.) There's also a real cornball ending involving Robicheaux, Hood and Robicheaux's daughter, Alafair. Might've worked for an episode of "Kolchak: The Night Stalker" (in fact that's where I first saw it), but not for a film with so many series issues. Another unnecessary practice is the annoying habit adopted by some of the actors of not making eye contact with Robicheaux when they talk to him, as if they're lost in a fugue or reciting some southern fried Shakespearian soliloquy.

So why did "In the Electric Mist" disappear from screen as quickly as a mint julep on an August afternoon? The plot, kids, the plot. It's telegraphed. Atmosphere can not mask atrophy. When Robicheaux sets out on the trail of not one, but two killers, he's followed by a mysterious dark car and set up for the murder of a witness. Duh, I wonder who's doing that? But "In the Electric Mist" is worth watching for the cast's worthy performances, particularly Helm and Jones. Jones is electric and Helm deserves every medal he wears on his chest. If the south ever does rise again, I want to be as dead as General Hood. But if it does, I hope Helm leads the charge.

Quarantine

2009-03-31T14:44:34Z

Quarantine
Jennifer Carpenter, Steve Harris
2 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Fans of "The Blair Witch Project" and "Cloverfield" can now rejoice. "Quarantine" continues the tradition of wobbly, hand-held "You are there" fright films. Depending on whether or not you've taken your Dramamine, you'll think either think "Quarantine" is a fast-paced hair-raiser, or a stomach churning, frustrating mess. As far as I'm concerned, "Quarantine" should be buried beneath the set's fake cobblestone floor with a "do not dig up until hell freezes over" sticker on it.

"Quarantine" is never dull; it's just difficult to follow. The premise is a good one, but the film isn't. It's lifted from the Spanish film "Nec." Well, senorita, mucho cohesion was lost in the translation.

It all beings innocently enough (as most horror films do) with television reporter Angel Vidal (Jennifer Carpenter, whose performance degenerates as people's vitals are being torn out) is filming a documentary about a fire company in New York City. It's all risqué jokes about poles and hoses until the company responds to an emergency call in an apartment building. Mrs. Espinoza (Jeannie Epper, growling like a distempered Terrier), a reclusive old woman, was heard screaming in her apartment and her neighbors fear she's hurt. High-strung cop Danny Wilensky (Columbus Short, successfully alternating between don't-f-with-me and hysteria), leads a police/fire department detail into Mrs. Espinoza's dimly lit living room to find out what's going on. Mrs. Espinoza attacks an officer, tearing at his neck as if it was a pork chop, leaving Wilensky no recourse but to shoot her. Wilensky rounds up the tenants, who rapidly begin to exhibit the same signs Mrs. Espinoza displayed before she turned into a foaming at the mouth buzz saw. It's not long before the vestibule looks like a Bronx ER on a Saturday night.]]>
The tenants are offed one by one, only to return as flesh-craving zombies -- hardly an endorsement for apartment living in the Big Apple. The building turns into a slaughter house as the tenants, firemen and police treat each other like appetizers. The survivors run from room to room in an effort to escape from being devoured, with every chomp and retaliatory crushing blow caught on tape.

There are a lot of familiar faces in "Quarantine," but most are on screen just long enough to be on the menu. Dana Ramirez (Maya Herrera in "Heroes") is spunky Latino lady Sadie; frequent "Law and Order" guest star Dennis O'Hare plays an obstinate, drunken tenant, and Greg Germann (Eric "Rico" Moyer on "Ned and Stacey," and Richard Fish on "Ally McBeal") is the concerned veterinarian who diagnoses the symptoms that are turning the shut-ins into frothing, flesh eating zombies. The stuntman's stuntman, Doug Jones, who played the Silver Surfer in the last Fantastic Four flick and Abe Sapien in "Hellboy," oozes onto the screen as "Thin Infected Man." He deserves a Gold Card hospitalization plan from the Screen Actor's Guild for suffering through the film's final backbreaking scenes while resembling a breaded chicken cutlet with eyes.

I usually quote a passage of dialogue from each movie I review. Quarantine's best line is first uttered by Mrs. Espinoza: "AHHHHGGGGHHHH!"

Marin Hinkle, (uptight Judith in "Two and a Half Men"), plays a mom protecting her hollow-eyed, hacking daughter. Her hysterical rants help dial up the tension. One look at Marin bear-hugging her blonde-haired, pasty cherub and you know it's not going to end well for her. Pity, she's good at neurotic roles and deserved a more fleshed out character. (Yeah, I know. Get thee to a pun-ery).

Steve Harris (Eugene White in "The Practice") is seldom seen as cameraman Scott - a mistake since he's instantly recognizable. On the other hand, Jennifer Carpenter (Debra Morgan on "Dexter") should have had her screen time cut more harshly than Marie Antoinette's bouffant. In the early scenes at the fire house she's a watchable Gen X entertainment sleuth, jesting inappropriately with the guys. When the doors are locked, she's courageous, probing, still worthy of her star/heroine status. When her character begins to crack under the stress, Carpenter becomes a babbling, blubbering child. By the end of the film all she does is shake like she's doing the Watusi and screaming at a level that's so annoying her voice should have shattered the windows, setting everyone free. Granted, faced with the same set of circumstances, I probably would have soiled my trousers and gone fetal, but Carpenter's mono-syllabic monster melt down during the last twenty minutes of the flick will leave you crying out for subtitles. Having your lead actress collapse like Dow Jones puts too much pressure on unknown Jay Hernandez, (as fireman Jake), who skedaddles through his role as if he's speeding to a three alarm blaze.

What ultimately sickens "Quarantine" is its dark, claustrophobic camerawork. Having the early playful and less important scenes at the fire house filmed with one camera is enough to prove to the audience that we're supposed to be watching a piece of discovered history. Too much of what goes on in the apartment building is obscured by bad lighting, cock-eyed angles or jostling, jerky and just plain bad camera work, so much so that I missed Dennis O'Hare's undoubtedly bloody exit. But, Mike, doesn't the hand held camera give the film a sense of urgency? More authenticity? Nope. After squinting my way through a hemoglobin hurling happening (I could tell the zombie's dentures were doing damage because the victims were screaming), and trying to follow the bouncing bodies, I got sea sick and gave up. Two or three cameras would have preserved the plot's claustrophobic dread and allowed the audience to actually see what the heck was happening.

Extra Eats...

There's enough extra footage to make "Quarantine" seem like a reputable project, but if you want to know how the film ended up in a financial body bag, look no further than writer/producer brothers John Erick and Drew Dowdle, who come across as X-Box geeks who were given too much money to waste.

The extra features include "Locked in: The Making of Quarantine," and "Dressing the Infected," a profile of make up artist John Hall's creepy special effects and ingenuity. Hall admits he got one of the movie's most horrifying effects from actress Stacy Chbosky, a Tea Leoni look-alike and sound-alike who played "Elise." Chbosky ate Bromo Seltzer powder before a scene. (Mix it with saliva and you get quite a mouthful of yucky foam.) Chbosky gives a hilarious description of how she was able to make a long string of drool almost seemingly at will. You won't remember her being in the film, but you won't forget her frivolity in the extras.

"Quarantine" is "Ten Little Indians" for the digital age. Because so many of the cast are nothing more than zombie fodder, the repetitious panicking, screaming, neck biting, more screaming, head crushing, more running, becomes an all too predictable pattern. The only neat twists are the veterinarian's explanation as to what's infecting everyone and how the CDC traced the outbreak to the building.

"Quarantine" is like your favorite chocolate snack. It's good; but gorging yourself on it will make you sick.

Appaloosa

2009-03-27T16:36:57Z

Appaloosa
Ed Harris, Viggo Mortensen, Renée Zellweger
4 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

The American western is a dying art form. Once the cinematic canvas for red-blooded heroes like John Wayne, Kurt Douglas, Burt Lancaster, Clint Eastwood, and Trigger, the world of men of few words, dead-eye shootin' sheriffs and sanctimonious sodbusters ran smack into the reality of the turbulent 60s. The public's thirst for characters reflecting the imperfections of the human condition turned the humble, aw shucks cowpoke into hard-drinking, icy killers and damaged loners. On television, cowboys went from the clean-cut Cartwrights to the F-bomb slinging Al Swearengen in "Deadwood."

Every so often a western comes along that combines the thrilling shoot 'em up action and white hat morality of the genre from yesteryear mixed with the reality based dialogue that harnesses the good, the bad and the ugly in all of us. Well, pardner, "Appaloosa" is such a film. It's sagebrush bonding without the uncomfortable touchy-feely undertones of "Brokeback Mountain." Even if you don't like westerns, the dynamic between old pal peace officers Virgil Cole (veteran character actor Ed Harris, who also wrote and produced the film) and Everett Hatch (Viggo Mortensen, conveying cowboy cool), will leave you glued to your saddle.

It may surprise you to know that my litmus test for westerns is a relatively modern one - 1993's "Tombstone," which starred Kurt Russell as Wyatt Earp, ubiquitous western character actor Sam Elliot as Virgil Earp, Val Kilmer as Doc Holiday and Michael Biehn as Johnny Ringo. (For the record, I'll mention that some of my other favorite westerns are "The Gunfighter" with Gregory Peck in a rare bad guy turn as...Johnny Ringo; "The Ox-Bow Incident" with Henry Fonda and Harry Morgan; "The Magnificent Seven," the inaccurate, but entertaining "O.K Corral" with a hearty Kurt Douglas as the tubercular Doc Holiday and a pre-"Star Trek" DeForest Kelly playing Morgan Earp; and Clint Eastwood's "The Outlaw Josie Wales." Please note there are no John Wayne films mentioned, pilgrim.) "Tombstone" had the rare quality of being true to the events leading up to the gunfight at the O.K. Corral as well as the consequences that followed. Unlike Kevin Costner's leaden, angst-ridden American hero portrayal of Earp the same year, Russell imbued his Wyatt with the hint of a sense of humor and let the audience see one of our most celebrated peace officers wasn't very peaceable after all. Biehn was a tortured, vengeful villain, and Kilmer gave Holiday an authentic Georgia accent as well as a sense of tragic humanity Dennis Quaid's excellent but bloodthirsty portrayal of Doc didn't have.
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Set in the New Mexico territory in 1882, the familiar plot rides in on the notion that the beleaguered, bullied townspeople of Appaloosa, who've been kowtowing to above-the-law brash Brit Randall Bragg (erudite Jeremy Irons), want their freedom. They hire two veteran lawmen, quiet but deadly Virgil Cole and his loyal deputy, Everett Hatch. Cole wastes little time enforcing the law - my town, my rules. He pistol whips an unruly drunk who insults a woman, knocks out the front teeth and confidence of one of Bragg's hired hands, and promises Bragg he'll hang for gunning down his predecessor. Bragg snorts at the idea he'll be tried, much less convicted, until one of his own men offers to become the prosecution's main witness against him.

Every hero needs a distraction, and Cole's rides into town one day on the afternoon train in the form of Allie French (Renee Zellweger, proving blondes don't always have more fun - or talent). Cole immediately falls for her, and the couple makes plans to settle down, building a house in town.

As Cole and Hatch prepare for Bragg's trial, Cole is surprised by the sudden appearance of Ring Shelton (deliciously treacherous Lance Hendricksen), and his brother, Mackie. As the saying goes, Ring and Cole "have history,' and although they rode together as friends, they parted as adversaries. Cole knows the Shelton Brothers claim of being in town for Bragg's trial is a lie, but can't figure out what they're up to.

Much to Bragg's surprise, he's convicted and put on a train to Yanqui, where he's set to be hanged. The Shelton Brothers stop the train, having been hired by Bragg to spring him. They have Allie as their hostage, and promise Cole they'll kill her if he doesn't release Bragg. Cole is forced to comply. He and Hatch track Bragg and the Shelton's into Indian Territory. Cole and Hatch both knew a day would come when Allie would come between them, Bragg would have to be dealt with, and they'd have to settle up the Sheltons. How these traditional western elements subtly come together is a major part of "Appaloosa's" attraction.

If Viggo Mortensen has ever given a bad performance, I haven't seen it. He's the film's narrator, but you get to see as much of Cole's guarded personality as his. He's Cole's right hand man, and is comfortable in that role, even serving as his cowboy Cyrano De Bergerac when Virgil courts Allie. Hatch appears to be an efficient, gentlemanly bookend to Virgil Cole's straight arrow silent authority, and other unsaid differences between the way the two men approach the law and life become more apparent as the film progresses. The two guns for hire have been together for so long that Hatch finishes Cole's sentences:

Cole: Killing is what happens sometimes. It's a by...by?
Hatch: By-product.

Viggo's cannon-sized buffalo gun is an ever present extension of his personality. Yes it's a variation of the gun as penis routine, but it's handled with tact.

There are other top notch actors ridin' the range. Ed Harris had enough on his plate as co-producer and screen writer, but he also gives a bravo performance in the Gary Cooper, Randolph Scott virtuous-but-sensitive lawman mold as the tight-lipped, determined Virgil Cole. Like Everett Hatch, he has a high moral compass and a low tolerance for law breaking bullies like Bragg:

Bragg: I told you you'd never hang me, Cole.
Cole: Never ain't here, yet.

What separates Cole from Hatch is how they're affected or unaffected by friendship and love. Hatch allows himself a modicum of compassion, and acknowledges his fear or lust. Cole says, "Feelings will get you killed." Cole seldom lets his guard down, even after he meets Allie. Watching Harris' character wrestle with his feelings for Allie is one of the film more layered and interesting plots. Cole is torn between his friendship for Hatch, his duty to clean up the town, and his love for Allie.

Lance Hendrickson has made a name for himself in Grade B Sci-Fi films playing troubled loners (Frank Black in the "X-Files" spin-off "Millennium") compassionate androids ("Alien") and chum for mutants ("Pumpkinhead"). He has the perfect craggy features, thousand yard steely stare and devious intent for Ring Shelton. He's the flip side of Virgil Cole; a back shootin,' lying, do-anything-for-a-dime mercenary; yet he's as devoted to finishing his mission as Cole is to completing his. He maintains a bit of old west honor by calling out his old friend for a shootout rather than bushwhacking him. Listening to Hendrickson's gritty voice and watching him chew up the desert when he walks is a cinematic treat. He knows how to cowboy up.

Whoever thought it would be a good idea to have a sophisticated, educated villain was as wrong as Custer at the Little Big Horn. Jeremy Irons is plenty churlish, but frankly I was more impressed with the more base anger displayed by his underlings (like Hendrickson). Irons just doesn't do villains all that well. His turn as Simon Gruber, uber villain Alan Rickman's brother in "Die Hard With a Vengeance" was Hans lite. Irons' Bragg threatens with words and bluster. Sure, he ruthlessly guns down the sheriff in his opening scene, but he's reluctant and ineffective at administering the same punishment to Cole and Hatch. Simon says stick with parlor dramas, Jeremy.

Renee Zellweger acts as if she's in another picture, or two, or three. The road map to make her character multi-dimensional is laid out adequately enough - she admits to sharing Ring Shelton's bed roll in order to save her life, and says she's been everything from a piano player to a prostitute in order to survive. Her fickleness and willingness to betray anyone with the patience to fall in love with her should have been enough to make Allie an interesting, edgy character. Instead Zellweger pouts, preens, bats her eyelashes like she's the heroine in a silent movie, and wraps her misguided movements around a whiny voice that drifts between Southern Belle and South Philly. She exists only to get in the way. Because she two-times Cole two times she's not a likeable character.

Perhaps Zellweger gave such a harrowingly horrible performance because she was signed to replace Diane Lane. Lane would have been better in the role; not only is she more purdy, she would have brought a toughness to Allie that Zellweger can't pull off. Zellweger's cartoonish when she's angry, like Betty Hutton grinning her way through a rootin' tootin' western musical. And let's not get into the fact that Zellweger is made up like some macabre cupie doll, her rosy chipmunk cheeks in direct contrast to her blotchy alabaster skin and Neanderthal eyebrows. Sometimes making someone look too authentic can make them look like they're auditioning for "Freaks." That aside, maybe Zellweger just doesn't have enough saloon girl saunter for a straight dramatic role.

On the other hand, Ariadna Gil lights up the screen as Kate, Hatch's saloon girl love interest. Her relationship with Hatch is upfront, honest, and taken for what it is -- two ships passing in the night that have found a temporary common berth.

Horsing Around With the Extras...

Appaloosa corrals a posse full of extras: "Bringing the Characters of Appaloosa to Life," "The Historical Accuracy of Appaloosa," "The Town of Appaloosa," "Dean Semler's Return to the Western," deleted scenes, and commentary by Ed Harris and screenwriter/producer Robert Knott. When you hear Harris' earnest observations in "Bringing the Characters of Appaloosa to Life," you'll marvel at how he was able to use the silence and unspoken understanding between Cole and Hatch as a device to carry the plot. "The Accuracy of Appaloosa," highlights Harris' attention to the period's look, how everything represented on screen, the clothes, weapons, spurs, even Harris and Mortensen's badges were as historically accurate as possible. Mortensen also gives a short dissertation on his eight gauge shotgun, and how it became a character unto itself. "The gun is either in my hand or right next to me," Mortensen says. "Because it's huge and heavy, it makes an impression."

"Appaloosa" is a horse of a different color, a western that delivers both barrels: it's got the traditional theme of good versus evil and strong performances by its lead characters. Saddle up kids - you'll enjoy the ride.

Linewatch

2009-03-27T15:22:59Z

Linewatch
Cuba Gooding Jr., Omari Hardwick
2 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

What's happened to Cuba Gooding, Jr.'s career?

Does winning a supporting actor Oscar automatically condemn an actor to obscurity? Ask the immortal George Chakiris, Haing S. Nor, or Brenda Fricker. Yep. It looks like "Linewatch" is going to push Gooding further down the frickin' road to obscurity alongside Brenda. In "Linewatch," Gooding plays non-nonsense border cop Mike Dixon, a devoted family man. In a previous life he was "Mad Dog" Dixon, a deadly L.A. gangbanger. Even though he's lording over a vast, desolate and sleepy expanse of the U.S./Mexican border, far away from L.A., you can bet anybody two Gila monsters and a cactus cocktail the plot centers around his past catching up with him.

Dixon and his overanxious partner, Luis DeSanto (under utilized Omar Trujillo), come across a van of nine dead men, women and children who tried to sneak across the border. The pair begins a pursuit of the "coyote" (broker/dirtbag) that arranged the ill-fated attempt. The subplots -- the pursuit of the coyote, the hassles and dangers faced by the border patrol, and the confrontation between border crossers and vigilantes posing as homemade homeland security would have made a much better picture. Instead, we get a weary drug smuggling plot dressed up as something new because the bad guys are fish out of water inner city black gangstas making a drug deal in the desert.

Dixon and Luis track their "coyote" travel agent to a trailer. Luis offers to rush the door and gets a chest full of lead for his enthusiasm. Dixon plugs two heavily armed dealers who suddenly lose their ability to shoot straight when he they fire at him. The remaining reprobate, a razor thin, skitterish black man with jagged teeth, escapes from the side of the trailer. Dixon and the dealer in need of a dental plan lock eyes, but neither one fires. Whaaa?

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"Linewatch" degenerates into a struggle for Little Man's soul with "Mad Dog" and Kimo vying for psychological control of their post-pubescent puppet. In between there's animosity between a group of rednecked desert rats masquerading as a version of a citizen staffed homeland security, which berates and beat a group of border crossers. The scruffy self made militia doesn't fare as well when they try to disrupt Kimo's deal with some heavily-armed local hombres.

The rest of the plot is as familiar as a "Starsky and Hutch" rerun and less original. Blackmail, drugs, thugs. Altruistic hero, villain as vain as Nero, accomplices with I.Q's of zero.

Kimo and his cohorts would have a hard time scaring Spanky, Alfalfa and the other juvenile members of "Our Gang," let alone a real assemblage of assassins. They act more like a laid back group of cricket players out for a Sunday drive rather than a hardened bunch of thugs from L.A. toughest streets.

Before he helps Kimo cop his kilo in the desert, Dixon goes into the precinct office and photographs the other cops' patrol routes and work schedules. It's the perfect opportunity to tell his Captain he's being blackmailed and his family is being held captive. Since they're the police, you might think they'd be pretty good at sneaking around undetected and could bust Kimo and his Keystone criminals without firing a shot. But Dixon decides to go it alone. Credible? Nah, but I suppose this wouldn't be much of an action flick if Mad Dog's selfless, stupid bravery made sense.

Gooding's acting is borderline. There's no explanation how his character earned the nickname "Mad Dog." Did he eat a bar of soap before knocking off a bodega and froth at the mouth as he was looting the cash register? Did he get bitten by a pit bull and bite back? Get rabies from some bad Spam? So, without a defined past, Gooding is forced to imitate a border patrol Bruce Willis - he's a determined, single-minded, mostly silent hero. Show me the money, Cuba! It's another case of a credible actor forced to push his talents to the point of absurdity because of a borderline script.

The rest of the cast is made up of rookie actors -- and it shows, but Omari Hardwick's slick turn as hip hop ringleader Kimo bears watching. He's not your typical insane inner city idiot who ices his foes indiscriminately. Hardwick slithers into scenes, smiles slyly and speaks with steely resolve, seldom raising his voice. He won't hesitate to shoot you in the head, but he'd rather play head games. His Achilles heel is the joy he takes in torturing Dixon by flaunting his hold he has over Mad Dog's nephew. As the movie marches on, Kimo seems to lose points off his I.Q., falling for the old let the underling kill the hero bit (which never works). He's let down by the stale script, but Hardwick deserves credit for not playing a New Jack criminal caricature.

Snaggle-toothed, slight and stoopid, Malieek Straughter (Cook) is the film's malevolent comic relief. His foil, stocky, studious Stokes (Amg) is "Linewatch's" passive comic relief. The two play off of one another like a hip hop version of Laurel and Hardy, trading ad-libbed quips. Straughter infuses Cook with a multitude of personality traits; he's uneducated, a conniving coward, yet can hold his own in a verbal joust and talks a convincing game. You get the feeling the actor put a lot of himself into the role. Amg admits in the extras that he did - he patterned Stokes after a number of thugs he knew in the hood. Nice job of research, Amg. Can we get you a last name?

The rest of the cast is as stable as a desert tumbleweed. Evan Ross ("Little Man") comes off more as a man becoming a boy than vice versa, and is too fresh faced and suburban for the role. When he talks about gangbangin' and poppin' a cap in someone's posterior, he sounds like he just stepped out of a finishing school instead of a threatening thug who just skipped reform school. Sharon Leal (Angela Dixon) plays role of the tough black woman like a desert Bonnie Parker, slapping Cook, dissing Kimo and going Rambo when her daughter is threatened. She's too soft around her husband and too much of a maternal grizzly bear when threatened; there's no balance -- so she's more of a chess piece than an actress. Dean Morris (Warren Kane) adds some stability as Dixon's Captain, but like Dixon's partner, Luis, he's not on screen long enough. It's a particular shame that Omar Trujillo's Luis is knocked out of the picture early - Dixon has more of a rapport with Luis than he does with his wife, and their bantering has all the friendly elements of partners who know, respect, and rely on one another. Luis gives Dixon's character his sense of humanity. Without Luis, Dixon's a desert Rambo.

More Line to Watch...The Extras

"Linewatch's" extras are brief, but worth taking in. The extras include "Crossing Borders: Behind the Scenes if Linewatch," with casual comments from producer Bard Krevoy, writer David Warfield, director Kevin Brag and the actors. Gooding's stunt double offers revealing inside info on how the fight scenes were staged, and has an amusing cache of stories from his fifteen years as the man who takes his lumps for the star. Gooding relates an amusing tale of having visitors to the set think he was a real border patrol officer, and Straughter's story involving a door knob and his own on the set intensity will leave you laughing.

The plot may be lukewarm, but the cinematography is hot. "Linewatch" was shot in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and the colorful mesas and long single-lane highways add to the film's sense of loneliness and lawlessness. And let's face it; most cop stories take place in L.A. and New York City, home to sky scrapers and homies. "Linewatch" is set in the forgotten land of double-wides, sagebrush and poverty stricken Native Americans, which may not make it exciting, but does make it different, no country for good men with no budget.

"Linewatch" clocks in at an economical 86 minutes. Despite nice turns by Hardwick, Straughter and Amg, this isn't a movie you need to stand in line to watch. Wait for it to come to cable.

The Lucky Ones

2009-02-23T17:03:01Z

The Lucky Ones
Tim Robbins, Rachel McAdams
3 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Road trip!

Although this may sound contradictory, "The Lucky Ones" is an uplifting movie about getting shot to pieces, going home to find out your once stable home life has crumbled, picking up the pieces, and learning how to grown from your mistakes.

When a blackout forces the cancellation of all flights out of New York City, recently discharged Iraqi war veteran Sergeant Fred Cheaver (consummate everyman Tim Robbins), agrees to share a ride home with fellow soldiers Sergeant T.K. Poole (Michael Pena, compelling in 2006's "World Trade Center"), and Colee Dunn (annoying but endearing Rachel McAdams). Although they come from diverse backgrounds, the soldiers share the bond of having been wounded in the service of the country, as well as a common compulsion to return to the shelter of a secure home. Instead of rediscovering their pasts, the three comrades wind up taking a journey of self-discovery that impacts their futures. Among their many discoveries: Don't turn around to talk to someone in the back seat when you're driving; don't wait until your naked and compromised to ask someone where their spouse is, and don't assume your dead horn dog boyfriend was a saint.

Poole received his 30-day ticket home when he was wounded in the "upper thigh." (It would have been too ironic if he played a private wounded in his private parts.) T.K. is confident, the man with a plan, and according to everyone else, he's one of the luckiest guys on the planet. Guess so - the shrapnel that wounded him should have killed him, but most of it lodged in the rifle standing by his side. When the trio has an accident in their rented van, a metal rod slams though the window and into the seat inches away from T.K.'s head. Yep, T.K.'s lucky, but he doesn't feel blessed. He's on his way to see his fiancé, but is concerned his little general won't be able to salute, and there's no plan or scheme that can save him from that embarrassment.

Colee Dunn is a naive trailer park grunt with a heart of gold, a mountaineer's sense of devotion to faith, and the temperament of a bantamweight boxer. Wounded in the leg, Colee's life was saved by her lover, Randy, who gave his life for her. Colee's on a mission to return Randy's most prized possession to his family, a rare acoustic guitar once owned by Elvis that's worth more than $20,000. She's deluded herself into believing if she returns the guitar, Randy's parents will adopt her. ]]>

Cheaver: A port-a-john fell on me.
Colee: Was it full?
Cheaver: No. I loved that port-a-john because it saved my life. A week after it fell on me my unit was shipped out and got shot to pieces. If I have another kid I'm gonna name Port-a-John Cheever.

A realist, Cheaver's seemingly attainable plan is pick up his family life where he left off two years earlier. But his wife (a bravo cameo by versatile character actress Molly Hagan), flips Cheaver's world upside when she announces she's moved on and wants a divorce. His loving son has received an invitation to a prestigious college, but is short $20,000 for tuition. The collapse of Cheaver's American dream puts him back on the road to Las Vegas with T.K. and Colee. He intends to win the money his son needs at the tables, but doesn't have T.K.'s skill or Colee's blind faith.

Robbins, Pena and McAdams are in nearly every scene together. They're able to make the audience believe that these three incompatible characters can not only get along, but grow and change in the process. Robbins is an expert at playing uncomfortable put upon types, and Pena is believable as the slick T.K. McAdams has the difficult task of playing a redneck innocent who yaks nonstop. She's particularly irritating in the early going, but at least manages to make Colee a sympathetic simp.

Whenever the story gets too claustrophobic, a recognizable character actor pops up to prop up the action. Molly Hagen (Sue Singer in "Unfabulous," Herman's sensitive side in "Herman's Head") is solid resolve and determination as Pat Cheaver, who's outgrown her husband. John Heard ("Home Alone," "In the Line of Fire") spits venom and frustration in his cameo as "Bob," a party-goer angered over the stagnancy and waste of the Iraq war. John Diehl (Detective Larry Zito in "Miami Vice") and Anne Corley (a familiar face on "Law and Order") play Randy's parents, and Howard Platt (Officer Hoppy Hopkins on "Sanford and Son") is the anti-Bob, a church-going businessman so appreciative of the soldiers he invites them back to his sprawling mansion to celebrate his birthday.

Neil Burger and Dirk Wittenborn's script is rife with predictable predicaments -- while picnicking in a deserted park with Cheaver, Colee convinces T.K. that it's time to test his damaged equipment and magically, an R.V. of experienced courtesans shows up; Cheaver, on near suicide watch, meets a gorgeous woman at a party who finds him irresistible; and Colee happens to have something in her possession that can solve Cheaver's financial dilemma. Because most of the action takes place in a van, the actors are given the opportunity to provide more soliloquies than a Shakespearian play, which helps backfill their character's lives. It's nothing you haven't seen or heard before, but the plot moves along at a pleasurable pace and ties all the characters bothersome problems up in a neat bow.

You're In Luck, There's Extras...

The extras may not be bountiful, but "A Look Inside The Lucky Ones" is like a pleasant hotel stay after an arduous road trip. Writers Burger, Wittenborn and producer Rick Schwartz discuss the actor's ability to populate their characters; "You want to cast the person who is the person; Rachel was breezy, Michael is good at things, at improving himself, and Tim is sort of a paternal character." The actors expand on the idea of the film's message of self-discovery and growth. "It's about real people, about a certain amount of tragedy," says Robbins. "But it also deals with the indestructible spirit of compassion."

You'll also get to see the nifty trick director Burger employed to make it look like the cast members were really operating their van. I wouldn't have liked to explain where the driver was if they'd been stopped by the cops...

If you're fortunate enough to have 115 minutes to spare, then you'll find "The Lucky Ones" to be a pleasant theatrical version of a feel good made for TV movie.

Pride and Glory

2009-02-22T22:55:06Z

Pride and Glory
Edward Norton, Colin Farrell, Noah Emmerich, Jon Voight, Jennifer Ehle
2.5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Ah, corruption. Some of the best police dramas ("Touch of Evil," "Training Day," "The Departed" to name a few) revolve around reprehensible detectives on the take. "Pride and Glory" isn't on the same level as any of those movies, but there's plenty of wrongdoing by guys who are supposed to protect and serve. Whether or not you'll be able to stomach a plot you've seen done better dozens of times before is another matter.

Set during the Christmas season, "Pride and Glory" opens fire with the murder of four cops sent to raid a dingy drug den in Washington Heights. The shooter, Angel Tazo, thrives on killing, leaving a trail of riddled bodies that's as easy to follow as tracing the bread crumbs dropped by Hansel and Gretel. Nice action, riveting tension. But there's no way the film can maintain such a fever pitch.

Chief of Detectives Francis Tierney, Sr. (hammy Jon Voight) the booze-addled patriarch of one of New York's most revered family of Irish policemen, asks his son, Detective Ray Tierney (Edward Norton, sullen and sleepy as usual) to investigate the killings. Ray's been taking zero risk assignments for the past two years as he continues to try and recover from the traumatic loss of his partner and the slow dissolution of his marriage. Out of a sense of duty to his father and older brother, Fran (a sincere performance by relative unknown Noah Emmerich), he allows his father to guilt him into taking the assignment. Since the rub outs took place in Fran's precinct and Ray's initial findings suggest a cover up is being perpetrated that's as rotten as three day-old mackerel at the Fulton Fish Market, he knows if starts peeling away the levels of corruption, his actions will derail Fran's fast track promotion to Inspector:

Ray: When we were kids we talked about being cops. How the f**k did we end up at this?
Fran: I don't know, Ray. What are you going to do?
Ray: Get this f**king blood off of me.

(Oh, yeah, there are a lot of F-bombs tossed about to the point of absurdity. If a censor had a squelch button he'd break his finger pressing it. In one of the opening scenes every other word Norton tosses out is a paint peeling adjective or verb, and he spits them out faster than candy from a Pez dispenser.)
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Jimmy's crew of miscreants is made up of impetuous, knuckle-dragging lowlife Eddie Carbone (Frank Grillo, interpolating his own brand of macho Piasanics), who treats the local bodega like his own cash machine and the owner like his personal punching bag; Kenny Dugan (wiggy Shea Whigham), Jimmy's most loyal cohort, and corn-rowed Sandy the only moke with a conscience (John Ortiz, who played business-like villain Jose Yero in the rancid remake of "Miami Vice.")

As Ray digs deeper, Jimmy digs in his heels. Jimmy is a loyal family man, and he knows if he fails to quell the investigation, a dozen thugs worse than Tazo will be taking pock shots at his wife and daughters. But he's equally loyal to his adopted family of barrio beating rogue cops, and he'll do anything to protect them as well. See how long it takes you to figure out that Jimmy and Ray are headed toward a showdown that'll rival the likes of a barroom brawl at McSorley's on St. Patty's Day. It should be apparent some time after the opening credits.

I guess Edward Norton is one of those actors I simply don't get. (Harrison Ford is another.) He was huge in "American History X" playing a repentant Nazi, but has been a siphon since. His heavy-lidded hound dog face lacks a range of expression, remaining frozen somewhere between a slight pulse and sorrow. Adding a scar to his cheek roughens his look somewhat, but his puffy eyes are as glazed as a diabetic cop after his fifth Dunkin' Doughnut.

Bless his villainous heart -- Colin Farrell's portrayal of Jimmy Egan is the opposite of Norton's Ray. He's a full-barreled explosion of raw emotion one moment and an icy, commanding killer the next. Farrell stokes the fires of intensity throughout the film. His blistering performance is a throwback to the tough guy roles played by Cagney, Bogart, Edward G. and George Raft in the 30s - mess with him and you'll be erased in a most unpleasant manner. You gotta love that 1,000 yard stare Farrell projects when he beats Tazo's lieutenant for information and then threatens to disfigure his baby with an iron when he doesn't get the answer he wants. It's an unpleasant scene to watch, as chilling as seeing Richard Widmark push a woman in a wheelchair down a flight of steps in "Kiss of Death." You won't want to watch it, but you won't be able to look away either, and you won't forget it. It's the type of disturbing moment that leaves a mark.

Jon Voight pushes more ham than a midtown deli owner. His overacting is shameless. When his character hits the bottle, Voight staggers and slurs like Foster Brooks at a Dean Martin celebrity roast and is about as funny, although he's not supposed to be. The rest of the time he's busting his lungs in order to out shout the other actors. You're not getting paid by the number of speakers you blow out, Jon...

Too many potentially interesting subplots are left unexplored and unresolved. Fran's wife Abby (an emotional performance by Jennifer Ehle), is dying from cancer. We're thrown a couple of teary scenes - there's the initial jolt of seeing Abby, bald from her radiation treatments, putting on a bold face for her relatives at Christmas; we also see Abby break down as she kneels next to her son's bed, realizing she may not see his next birthday; and our hearts go out to Fran and Abby when Fran gives her a ring with an inscription in Gaelic that translates to "My love eternal." But that's the sum total of what learn about Abby. She's inserted into the story to make us cry, to give us a respite from the blood, bullets and F-bombs.

Not enough is made of Ray's pending divorce except the obvious: she's black and didn't fit into the close nit Irish family, and when Ray was shot he withdrew from life, ruining his marriage. That's it. We don't even know at the end of the film if Ray's heroics have helped him win back his wife's heart, or if she's hired a more expensive lawyer. And the idea that a powerful crooked cop would go to any lengths, burning evidence, beating bystanders, even threatening to permanent press a baby, has been a standard plot device since the days villains twirled their moustaches in silent films. Colin Farrell's acting rises above the clichés, even if his character falls heavily into the same traps that doom all bad
guys -- such as aligning himself with weak kneed minions, then acting surprised when they fail him; or dropping his weapon to fight mano a mano with the hero when it would have been easier to just ventilate him. And I didn't buy for a moment the notion that Ray could do anything in a fight against Jimmy other than let Jimmy hit him repeatedly. Regardless, the climatic bottle smashing, eye gouging, bar-wrecking knuckle session is one of the most ridiculous fight scenes ever filmed. The haymakers thrown by Farrell and Norton are so telegraphed they seem to have been launched the day before. The only way either character should have been hurt was if they died laughing.

Part of what's wrong with the film is what's right with it. The characters are designed to fit together like pieces in a puzzle: Fran's honorable tortured soul, Jimmy's morally bankrupt baddie, Frances Sr.'s whiskey and water dinosaur, and Ray's scarred, self-righteous hero... Too bad there's no glue holding the pieces together. No one seems to be able to handle acting in the same hemisphere with Farrell - his character's just too full blown to be dampened and engulfs the others. The only character that's not a caricature is Emmerich's Fran, who fesses up that he turned a blind eye while Jimmy was lining his pockets, cares for his cancer-riddled wife, and tries to mend his fractured relationship with Ray. The other characters main concerns are avoiding bullets or jail time.

You've seen "Pride and Glory" before under a thousand different names: "Night in the City," "NYPD Blue," "The Wire," "We Own the Night..." An audience will buy a string of familiar story lines if the plot is absorbing and entertaining. If you like gritty cop stories where the bad guys know no bounds and the good guys curse like it's an art form, "Pride and Glory" will entertain you. But the many subplots that only scratch the surface and go nowhere while leaving wanting much more. If the writers had taken more pride in the script, they might have covered themselves in glory.

The X-Files: I Want To Believe

2009-02-22T22:31:04Z

The X-Files: I Want To Believe
David Duchovy, Gillian Anderson
1out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

It's official: the "X-Files" is now the ex-files.

I believe "I Want to Believe" the second X-Files movie, is the last you'll ever see of the once vaunted science fiction series. It's protracted, pedestrian, and worse, predictable - an unpardonable sin given the TV show's originality.

Unlike the first X-Files film, "I Want To Believe" doesn't focus on the series preoccupation with alien abductions, aliens amongst us, black oil, shadow government agencies or conspiracies. None of it. And there's no two timing by Alex Krycek, no comic diversions by the Lone Gunman, no dire threats by Cigarette Smoking Man, no sightings of the series sacred Shroud of Turin, Mulder's martyred sister, Samantha. "I Want To Believe" is a stand alone plot (although it staggers rather than stands). It's a throwback to the show's "monster of the week" approach, eschewing the more appealing and engrossing mythology the series spent seven years building up.

The thread-bare plot has Mulder and Scully pursuing the trail of what appears to be a serial killer. Actually he's a serial kidnapper, because he's snatched an FBI agent and a young woman whose sole function is to be as dispensable as a security guard on "Star Trek." All signs point to the ladies having been ripped into portable pieces like spare parts in a Bronx chop shop. But to quote Monty Python: "She's not dead yet!"

With the aid of defrocked pedophile priest Father Joseph (yeah, you really want this guy's help), agents Dakota Whitney (Amanda Peet, in need of a new agent) and Mosely Drummy (rapper Xhibit - exhibiting no talent whatsoever), track down dismembered body parts that may or may not belong to the missing women. Since discarded body parts in a frozen lake qualify as bizarre, agent Whitney comes up with the inspired idea of bringing in the semi-sedentary Fox Mulder (David Duchovy, taking a siesta throughout) to help Father Joseph interpret his visions. He's also drafted in case Father freaky is involved in the killings. (I guess the F.B.I. had a hard time believing a psychic priest can travel across five miles of frozen ice and go to the exact spot where a murder victim is stashed not once, but twice!) ]]>
Scully: What is it that you were praying for in there, sir?
Father Joe: For the salvation of my immortal soul.
Scully: And you think God hears your prayers?
Father Joe: You think he hears yours?
Scully: I didn't bugger thirty-seven altar boys.
Mulder: That's a pleasant way to put it.
Scully: I have another word I can use, if you'd like.
Mulder: I'm sure you do.

Are aliens conducting experiments on humans, chopping them up and discarding the empties? Naaaah. That would have required writer Chris Carter to strain a few brain cells and come up with an original plot. Instead he steals one of the most worn out stories in horror fiction - the story of Frankenstein's monster - grafting it to a few chase scenes resembling a sub zero Daytona 500.

Janke Dacyshyn, a Russian immigrant employed as an organ donor transporter, is quickly revealed as the no goodnick nicking women from lonely dirt roads and isolated homes. He brings them to his hideaway in the backwoods of Virginia so their parts can be harvested to save the life of his lover, Franz Tomczesyn, who just happens to be one of the many boys Father Joe molested. Dacyshyn is a perpetually violent Cossack crash dummy who enjoys using his pick up truck to induce blunt force trauma and doesn't bother covering up his tracks, which leads one to wonder why it would take a tactical force comprised of the local flatfoots, F.B.I, and a fallen Father to track him down - since there doesn't seem to be anything else going on in the small town on inbreeders.

The scenes at Dacyshyn's hideout are straight out of a Mel Brooks horror movie parody. The only thing missing is a cross-eyed assistant with a hump or Tomczesyn breaking into a chorus of "Puttin' On the Ritz," or in his case, "Sittin' On A Ritz." One of the film's unintentionally laughable moments occurs when the surgeon begins sawing off Tomczesyn's head. We never learn for what purpose, but it appears he planned to put it on the abducted girl's body. This certainly wasn't what baseball great Ted Williams had in mind when he had his head cryogenically frozen. With a woman's body and scarred up bald man's head, Tomczesyn would be the scariest transgender since Rosie O'Donnell. Guess that's what you get when you hire Mickey Rourke's plastic surgeon.

The action all comes down to whether Mulder can stop comrade Frankenstein, and whether nice Catholic girl Scully can come to grips with receiving help and guidance from a defrocked priest.

You can see every twist and turn coming, especially when Father Joe says to Scully "Don't give up" (an obvious reference to the sick child that everyone but Scully and Mulder seem to get). The most disingenuous moment occurs near the end, when Scully calls in another prominent character from the series to ride in on his white bronco (actually in his white Bronco truck) to save the day.

What really makes "I Want To Believe" so unbelievably bad is it's limp-wristed plot. It's no more than a bad boogeyman story, a modern day Frankenstein with a homosexual twist.

David Duchovny drones through his role as Fox Mulder, smirking and wise-cracking as if he's preparing for his next gig as an oversexed writer in "Californication." Get your head in the game, Dave.

If Duchovny is sleepwalking, then Billy Connolly is perpetuating a walking coma. Pulling off his self-flagellating pedophile priest character would have been hard enough with an excellent script, but Connelly's does little more than twitch upon command and mumble in a brogue like a Johnny Walker doused Barry Fitzgerald.

Gillian Anderson is one of the few actors that embraced her character. She's able to rise above the worthless subplot involving Scully's moral battle to save the life of a terminally ill kid. (The only thing missing is a young, dew-eyed Ricky Schroeder and a maudlin soundtrack orchestrated by Ray Conniff) She also navigates the Scully/Mulder lovechild issue with dignity, as opposed to Duchovny, who inexplicably smiles like a mischievous teenager let loose at a girl's school whenever he and Scully share a private moment. Scully's the movie's stabilizing force. Anderson knows it, and her eyes burn with purpose. She's focused and says her lines with genuine emotion. And unlike Duchovny, who looks tired and bored, Gillian's been taking care of Gillian. She's less emotionally constipated than was in the TV series, and thanks to her years of acting in Indie productions, seems to have picked up on the subtleties that separate good actors from hacks picking up a paycheck.

Pity Amanda Peet. The perky actress showed a lot of comic moxie in "The Whole Nine Yards" as Bruce Willis' gun moll-in-training girlfriend and had a three-year run on the sleeper series "Jack and Jill." But it seems every time she tries to stretch out in a drama she's get trod on like peat moss. She's efficient and determined as agent Dakota Whitney, but is needlessly sacrificed early in the picture to play upon the audience's sympathies. The problem is, Whitney's got her wits about her in the other scenes, so not only is her fate a gyp, she's one of the few characters worth watching and caring about. After she exits, you should too.

If you believe as I do that rap artists are not only bad singers, they're bad actors, than look no further than Xzibit, who play's Whitney's partner, Agent Mosely Drummy. He's mostly dummy, the type of horrifically heinous actor tomatoes were invented for. As the film's "disbeliver" he's called upon to condemn and criticize Mulder at every turn:

Agent Drummy: I don't believe this.
Mulder: You know, that's been your problem from the very beginning.

And you won't believe Xzibit's ineptitude either. Xzibit's Drummy exhibits a harsh, unyielding attitude that never changes. We don't get to see him get his comeuppance through enlightenment because there's no reason to accomadate him after Amanda Peet gets shafted. Drummy's just there to bully Mulder and crease his brow while doing it. Oh yes, Xzibit also provides "Dying To Live,' painful proof that rap = crap.

The "villains" are virtually silent, so the one-note motive of one lover trying to save the other by piecing together a new body for him is never fleshed out (no pun intended). Canadian actor Callum Keith Rennie (now in "Californication" with Duchovy, can you say "payback?") plays Janke Dacyshyn, the Russian nut job donor delivery boy. With little dialogue to work with, he's forced to froth like Rasputin and display typical sci-fi moments of angry inhuman strength. Rennie is intense, but he's bogged down by his poorly written boogeyman role. The same can be said for Fagin Woodcock (you're kiddin' me with that name, right?) who plays Franz Tomczesyn, the film's Frankenstein's monster and Janke's love interest. He has to react to getting slashed in the opening scene and spends the rest of the film gurgling through tubes and air bags while on his back in an operating room. His acting is equally comatose.

If Chris Carter set out to pick up where the television series left off he succeeded. By its seventh and last season, "The X-Files" was a spent force. Duchovny wasn't even a regular on the show anymore. He should have remained an ex-cast member.

Xtras...

Extras include Carter doing what amounts to an infomercial about the film's "green production." The actors and crew used hybrid cars, and many of the sets were cannibalized from other films. It's a noble cause and a nice sentiment, by hardly scintillating, but it's still more interesting than Xzibit's ridiculous rap. You'll have to content yourself with "Body Parts,' a segment on the film's special effects, and the gag reel, which shows that Peet and Anderson are good natured good sports who don't mind falling on the ice or mugging for the camera if it helps keep the crew loose.

With "I Want To Believe" the X-Files has finally jumped the shark. Its degenerated into a grade Z laugher that makes "Plan Nine From Outer Space" look like "The Godfather." Maybe if we could cryogenically freeze Chris Carter's noggin and go back in time to the moment he thought of creating this Frankenstein facsimile we could stop thousands of X-Files fans from crying out for his head. Probably not.

Spin City - Season One

2009-01-19T14:13:39Z

Spin City
Season One
4 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

So when Alex Keaton of "Family Ties" grew up, he changed his name to Michael Flaherty and became the Deputy Mayor of New York City.

The first season of Michael J. Fox's second hit sitcom, "Spin City" has been released on DVD by Universal Music and Video Distribution. The satire of a deputy mayor and his staff trying to halt strikes, keep the lid on scandals, sandbag the press and balance their love lives proves fictional politics can be just as funny as real life headlines.

"Spin City" follows the daily routine of Deputy Mayor Michael Flaherty (supercharged Michael J. Fox). Flaherty briefs his staff, guides Mayor Randall Winston (hysterically oblivious Barry Bostwick) through the latest crisis, and removes the Mayor's foot from his mouth whenever Winston's honesty is less than politically correct. The Mayor may be the big cheese in the Big Apple, but Flaherty is the one in charge. Flaherty's staff includes hedonistic Chief of Staff Stuart Bondek (sarcastic Alan Ruck), who feels Flaherty got the job because he has better hair; Carter Heywood (comic thesaurus Michael Boatman), the staff's conscience, a gay black man in charge of Minority Affairs; relationship challenged financial administrator Nikki Faber (quick witted yenta Connie Britton); bumbling, neurotic Press Secretary Paul Lassiter (rubber-faced Richard Kind) and naive staff writer James Hobert (whose comic timing improves as his character matures). Flaherty also tries to balance his love life with Ashley Schaeffer (a game but superfluous Carla Gugino), a savvy newspaper reporter.

You won't be disappointed by any of the two dozen episodes on the 2 DVD set. "Spin City" takes a forearm shiver when Gugino unexpectedly departs after a dozen episodes (as if the writers were caught off guard -- and they probably were), but recovers after a short stagnancy.
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Woody Harrelson is the people's choice in the episode "Meet Tommy Dugan," playing a janitor who wins an essay contest for kids and becomes a member of the staff for the day. His honesty charms the press, who've tired of Flaherty and Lassiter's double-speak. Naturally, his talent for telling the truth frustrates Flaherty.

As a favor to Carter, Flaherty pretends to be his lover and kisses a sure thing goodbye in "Kiss Me Stupid," and the guys try to prove to Nikki they can handle father hood by babysitting napkins in "The Competition," the result being a comic wipe out.

My favorite episode was "Dog Day Afternoon." In an effort to make peace between The Mayor and the Police Commissioner, Flaherty stages an elaborate funeral for Bingo, a heroic German Shepherd. When Paul and Carter loose the dog's body, Flaherty's back up plan shepherd's in the belly laughs.

The show, which ran from 1996-2002, works because of the jousting between characters. Each character has his/her own comic foil (or two). For Flaherty, it's virtually all the staff members, but his main targets are the Mayor and Lassiter. Carter and Stuart fight like a married couple -- an ironic pairing between an advocate for gay rights and a slobbering heterosexual. Writer James has a crush on Nikki who uses him as a sounding board for her haphazard love life, while the socially and publicly challenged Lassiter finds his match in Claudia (a cloying, annoying Faith Prince), the president of his one-woman fan club.

The cast is well chosen and the players have an obvious rapport with one another. I hated Michael J. Fox's mini-Trump character of Alex Keaton in "Family Ties," and I could only get through a few minutes of "Back to the Future," despite being an ardent fan of Christopher Lloyd. Additionally, Fox's one-step-ahead-of-everyone-else Mike Flaherty had his work cut out with me because he's one of those tightly-wound Type A control freaks I so often encountered when I worked in Public Relations. Given the opportunity, I'd pummel a gnat like Flaherty, but business etiquette (and the need to eat) required my giving a relentless tornado like Flaherty a wide berth -- and being rewarded with a good laugh whenever one of his breed crashed and burned. Personal vendetta's aside, I applaud Fox for taking a potentially despicable character and filling his lungs with biting, funny lines, as well as executing some original physical comedy. Fox is part Charlie Chaplin, somersaulting over beds as he removes his pants (you'll have to see it to believe it), and as lightning-fast with a barb as Groucho Marx:

Carla Gugino has given a number of commendable dramatic performances ("American Gangster," "Chicago Hope") but she's no comic. Her character of Ashley Schaeffer and Fox's Flaherty are already dating when the show begins and quickly move in together. Once that happens there's nowhere for their relationship to go, and little for her character to do except complain that she and Mike don't see each other often enough. Plus she's now faces the moral dilemma of having to embarrass her boyfriend in print in order to do her job. The writers must've realized very quickly that the Ashley/Flaherty relationship was a dead end because the opening scenes that took place between Ashley and Mike were dropped in favor of Flaherty's daily staff meeting. Carla realized she was an anchor too - she quit the show halfway through the first season.

Barry Bostwick's dullard Mayor Winston is warm, genuine and clueless. Much is made of his height (he really does appear to be twice as tall as Fox), but what makes Bostwick's character lovable and sympathetic (aside from his innocence) are his occasional moments of clarity:

Flaherty: Do nothing. Sir, it's inspired.
Mayor: Let it be, Mike, and the path will reveal itself.
Flaherty: You're a very spiritual man, aren't you sir?
Mayor: I'm part Chippewa.

As the series progresses, so do the hilarious exchanges between the supporting characters. Michael Boatman ("Arlis$$") and Alan Ruck ("Ferris Bueller's Day Off") are superb as Carter and Stuart. Ruck's drooling, pleasure-seeking Stuart was a groaner even back in '96, but watching him get his come uppence or deliver an over the top inappropriate line is a guilty pleasure.

Boatman agreed to take the role as long as he didn't have to play the stereotypical lisping, sashaying gay man, and the show's brain trust, Gary David Goldberg, Bill Lawrence and Michael Fox, got more mileage out of Carter trying to prove how normal he really is. The clashes between Carter and Stuart are among the funniest moments in the show:

Stuart: Dan Donalson is brilliant. He's the real estate developer. Did you read his
book? Dan I Am?
Carter: Brilliant. Except for the title, which he clearly ripped off.
Stuart: From who?
Carter:Think about in your chair. Think about it anywhere.

Richard Kind (who once played a character named Harvey Corman on "Scrubs," get it?) is Press Secretary Paul Lassiter. Having served as a Press Secretary I can tell you anyone as incompetent as Lassiter wouldn't have lasted more than an episode, but of course it's his ineptitude, gullibility, and bad luck that makes him the perfect comic patsy:

Paul: I see you're supposed to be meeting with the lesbian activists tonight, and I've got Sister Margaret. So I was wondering. What do you say we trade my nuns for your lesbians?
Carter: Paul, they're not baseball cards.
Paul: What do lesbians know about me? And besides, what do you know about
lesbians? This could be a great opportunity.
Stuart: So we can remind them why they're lesbians?

Connie Britton ("Friday Night Lights") is Nikki Farber, the staff's red-haired, brainy beauty with horrible taste in men (nice how that balances out, eh?). During the first year she was Stuart's able adversary until Carter took over. Unfortunately, the writers jumped the shark in later years, cooking up an office romance between Nikki and Mike that hastened Britton's departure mid-way through the series six-year run.

Alexander Chaplin plays shy, virginal staff writer James Hobert. Guess I'm sympathetic to his occasionally pathetic character because he graduated from nearby John Jay High School. The nature of his character means he'll be as whiny and needy as Flaherty's is in-your-face and confident, and he's often on the short end of Carter, Stuart and Mike's caustic comments:

James: Nikki asked me to buy her a drink. What do you suppose I should get her?
Carter: How about a drink.
James: That's the thing. She said surprise me.
Carter: Serve it to her naked.

As Janelle, the Office Administrator, Victoria Dillard is the show's "magic negro" (hey I didn't coin the phrase). It's a small role, but it's obvious that next to Flaherty, she's the most informed and steadiest personality on the staff - and one of the few characters that can strike fear in min-Mike. Taylor Stanley has a lesser role as Karen, the always smiling and constantly upbeat intern who's even more trusting and naive than James, and naturally has a crush on him. She was given little else to do but say "Okey-dokey," but I swear every time she said it I howled. Too bad Stanley was written out after 8 episodes.

Carla Guigino's departure opened the door for a series of guest girlfriends for Flaherty. Some of the actresses were virtual unknowns when they appeared on the show, like Daphne Zuinga, (who plays the edgy Carrie, who's so ready to have a child she freezes Flaherty's "guys") and Amanda Pete, who promises Flaherty a spin-dizzying one night stand just as a blizzard cripples the city. All fall for mini-Mike (it is, after all, a comedy) with riotous results. Courtney Thorne-Smith ("The World According to Jim," "Melrose Place") pops in for two episodes as a lawyer who has the misfortune of meeting Flaherty when he's an emotional wreck still pining for Ashley, while Cynthia Watross ("Titus," Libby on "Lost") appears to be the perfect woman for love-starved Flaherty, despite her elusiveness about her job.

Other guest stars provide comic grist for the show. Riding the success of "Cheers" George Wendt ("Norm") and Woody Harrelson ("Woody," how creative) appear in successive episodes. Although I didn't buy Wendt as a ruthless land baron modeled after Donald Trump - he's still too cuddly and his smile remains too warm - his battle of wits with Flaherty still amuses, and as I said, Harrelson shines as Tommy Dugan.

Other guests to keep an eye out for are then-unknown Jennifer Garner, who impresses as James' innocent, dewy-eyed girlfriend who shows up in New York just as he decides to dump her; Gretchen Mol ("Donnie Brasco") a reporter with a crush on country boy James; Luke Perry, suave and snappy as Carter's often talked about ex-lover Spence, who drops a bomb on his old beau; and Marlee Matlan ("Children of a Lesser God"), who appears as an advocate for the deaf determined to take Mike and the Mayor down for a perceived slight. Toward the end of the first year's run, Marin Hinkle (now on "Two and a Half Men") shows up as Stuart's exceeding pleasant and loving girlfriend. Of course none of the others can understand what such a wonderful woman is doing with such a hedonistic rat like Stuart. Kim Dickens ("Deadwood") sports a scary dominatrix hairdo and an equally intimidating attitude as a maneater who actually turns Mike down. And see if you can spot Stephen Colbert who makes a brief cameo in "The Competition."

Additional Spinning...The Extras

The extras include "The Making of Spin City" with comments from the cast and creators. The cast, to say the least, looks very relaxed, as if they were filmed mere minutes after waking up. (Check out Richard Kind's exclamation point hairdo, or Fox's scruffy jaw line.) The actors comment on their roles (Kind: "I was the Press Secretary who was supposed to know everything. Yet I was always kept in the dark.") as well as their admiration for Fox, who continued to work as long as he could without complaint while fighting a losing battle against advanced Parkinson's Disease. It's a lovefest, and pleasant memories abound.

"Spin City" is well written, wonderfully acted biting political sarcasm. The next time you need some laughter in your life, cast your vote for "Spin City."

The Tudors Complete Second Season

2009-01-13T14:20:14Z

The Tudors
Complete Second Season
4 out of 5 stars
Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

I'm Henry the Eighth, I am!

The second season of "The Tudors" is fit for a king or queen. What makes this 16th Century soap opera worth ten plus hours of ye precious tyme are the delicious moments of self-promotion and avarice provided by the show's supporting cast of lascivious lords, conniving courtesans, naughty knights and pompous papal pundits.

The DVD release of "The Tudors" gets the royal treatment with all ten hour-long episodes on 4-discs, plus special features including a pair of featurettes, cast biographies, candid on set photos and as a bonus treat - full episodes of four other popular Showtime series, "Dexter," "Californication," "This American Life" and "United States of Tara." All this opulence will make you lose your head.

The second season follows the ascension of Anne Boleyn to throne as Queen of England and the banishment of Catherine of Aragon, King Henry VIII's first wife. Smitten by Anne's beauty and her fiery outspokenness, and painfully aware that the pious Catherine, who gave birth to his daughter, Mary, may not be able or willing to produce the son and heir he craves, Henry seeks a divorce. But hold onto your knickers Hank -- the Roman Catholic Church, honchoed by Pope Paul III, disapproves of the idea of your divorcing Catherine. Infuriated by the refusal, as well as the Pope Paul's influence over his crown, Henry decides to break the powerful stranglehold the Roman Catholic Church has over him and his people. He names himself head of the Church of England, declaring it a separate entity not beholding to the whims of Pope John. Then he strips Catherine of her titles and sends her packing off to a desolate dank corner in More Castle. Fearing his daughter may conspire with her mother and loyalists overseas to overthrow him, he forbids Catherine to have any contact with Mary. His next in-your-face move is to name Anne Boleyn queen and declare that since his marriage to Catherine is annulled, making Mary illegitimate and thus unable to rule.

When the Archbishop of Canterbury goes to his great reward, Henry quickly steps in, naming Thomas Cranmer, an obscure cleric, to the position. Surprisingly, the Pope agrees with Henry's choice: "What better way to please the King of England than to make a nobody Bishop? What harm can a nobody do?" Unfortunately for Paulie, he's going to find out the hard way. Cranmer is Henry's puppet, and the King's got his hand right up Cranmer's backside and his moving his lips. In order to further cripple the Church, Henry charges Cranmer with drawing up a list of wealthy churches and monasteries he can tax out of existence. "The Reformation" has begun. ]]>
None of this Reformation stuff sits well with Sir Thomas More, Henry's loyal and highly spiritual Chancellor, who insists that only God can be the head of the church. More opposes the separation of church and state in a polite, dogmatic manner. Such opposition sets up the possibility that Henry's will end the dispute by separating Sir Thomas' head from his body. He insists More take the oath of loyalty, which More politely refuses all the way up the steps to the executioner. His act of protest makes More a martyr, and moves yet another Thomas (Cromwell) into a position of power. Cromwell and Cranmer form a profitable and eventually powerful alliance. Cranmer is initially uneasy; Cromwell causes people to be ill at ease. As Cranmer finds his feet, Cromwell forces others to bow at his.

These decisions not only cause Pope Paul's papal hat to start spinning on his head, they also draw up the battle lines within Henry's court. Even with Catherine and Mary exiled, Anne Boleyn's approval rating makes George Bush's look positively golden. She has a number of set-to's with Cromwell, the facilitator of Henry's ruthless reforms, gets Henry's wilding buddy Charles of Suffolk (who implied she was less than pure) temporarily booted from court, and chides Henry for his indiscreet affairs. She also fears that her lady-in-waiting, Anne Seymour, is waiting to become queen. But as long as Anne has the capacity to bear Henry a son, the King is willing to overlook the whispers in his court that the Queen is less than chaste...

It's Anne's dwindling inner circle that precipitates her downfall - her greedy, power hungry father, Thomas (another Thomas!); her brother George, who has the innocent face of a babe, the sexual perversions of Oscar Wilde, and the temperament of Jack the Ripper; her fiddle flailing friend Mark Smeaton, brother's lover; and her busty, bubble-brained cousin Madge. Lining up against the Boleyn's are Sir Charles, a patient, but vengeful Cromwell, The Pope, the King of France, Mary, and Henry's Groom William Brereton, who's already taken a pock shot at Anne and missed. (If only Lee Harvey Oswald had his aim!)

But Anne is pregnant with Henry's son, so he'll still forgive her anything. Then she miscarries. Is that the bell in the Tower of London calling?

The series utilizes the vast landscape of Ireland and its chilly castles. The costumes, customs and dialogue will send you back to the 16th Century. The episodes are like Lay's Potato Chips -- if you watch one, you'll have to watch another. I know. I sat up until 2 a.m for three solid nights devouring three episodes at a clip! Even if you've figured out what's going to happen you'll still be bolted to the TV. The storyline takes a few liberties with history as we know it (such as Henry being the same age as Anne when he was actually twice her age, and Brereton painting a bully's eye on Anne).But as you know, fiction is often more entertaining than the truth.

In an attempt to attract a young audience, "The Tudors" overflows with young actors who look like they belong on a runway rather than running away from lances and arrows. I understand that actors are often at the mercy of their scripts, but Jonathan Rhys Meyers is a very one-note Henry VIII. He pops his eyes, snorts, muscles dudes twice his size into walls, and unzips whenever he sees a lady of the court scurry by. He's short-tempered and in a constant state of agitation - hey, it's supposed to be good to be the King! He's hardly the enlightened despot history has made Henry out to be. In short, he's a bodice ripping Tony Soprano, a thug. When he's not shouting or shoving, he looks distressed, as if he's sucking on a lemon in order to ward off scurvy. There's nothing to like about him, and that makes seeing Meyers in virtually every scene tough. Even when he's called upon to finally show his sympathetic side as he beats himself up over whether to send his friend Sir Thomas More to the chop shop, Meyers can't scare up enough tears or emotion to make his agony convincing. His Henry is disconnected, diabolical and despicable. If that's what was intended, bravo. In 1972, Keith Michell starred as Henry VIII in the BBC's excellent mini-series "The Henry VIII and His Six Wives," which also featured perpetual bad guy Donald Pleasance as Cromwell, randy Charlotte Rampling as Anne and Paul McCartney's ex-girlfriend Jane Asher (sister of Peter Asher of Peter and Gordon). I'll take Keith Michell's more rounded portrayal of King Henry over Meyers. Meyers' biggest role before playing the King of England? Playing Elvis Presley. Thank yew very much, but no thanks.

At least Henry is feared and respected by the other characters. Anne Boleyn is reviled by most everyone, which makes Natalie Dormer's task of rising above her villainy and turning in a credible performance that much harder. But she succeeds in capturing Anne's fiestyness and ambition. She's at her best obsessing about Mary becoming Queen ("She is my death and I am hers.") or teetering between sanity and hysteria when she realizes her world is crumbling, lashing out at Henry and Cromwell and finally standing up to her status hungry dad. Dormer is no door mouse in a demanding role.

But it's the supporting actors who are worth a king's ransom...

Although there's no Duke of Earl or Duke of Ellington, there is a Duke of Suffolk, played with forthright gentlemanly elegance by GQ handsome Henry Cavill, who deserves his third billing. Sir Charles is the series equivalent of Errol Flynn, dashing, always on the side of the righteous, and an expert swordsman unafraid to stand in front of his men as he leads them into battle. Apparently the Duke was a bit of rogue during the series first season, bouncing through wheat fields, haystacks and bedrooms with his best buddy, King Henry. Now he has a 17 year-old wife and a young son and has left his days of corset collecting behind him. He's the show's noble moral center, a quiet supporter of Catherine of Aragon, which makes him Anne's natural enemy. She campaigns for his banishment and whines to the King, "He hates me." "But he loves me," Henry replies. Even tyrant has to have a friend, and Charles is loyal to Henry. Charles is one of the show's true heroes and Cavill brings his sense of honor and duty to life.

If it's good to be the King, then it's great to be the Pope. Peter O'Toole plays Pope Paul III with the élan of a cagy, toothless, but still dangerous lion. His dialogue issues from his mouth with the perfect diction of a poet, and whenever he speaks there's always a mischievous glint in his hollow eyes and his sallow skin takes on a lively glow. He acts circles around the other players, and why not? He's Peter O'Toole for chrissakes, and his Pope Paul stirs up memories of his portrayals of the honorable Lawrence of Arabia, heroic Lord Jim, stubborn King Henry II and suave Alan Swan. The list of impressive roles he's played is longer than all the other actors roles put together, and all that experience is right there for you to enjoy on the screen. He loves playing an omnipotent fop, and you'll love watching him steal the show.

Jeremy Northam pays homage to the martyred Thomas More with a measured, pious performance. Hard to believe Sir Thomas could remain so steadfast in his resistance to swear to the oath of allegiance, though. After all, his stubbornness cost his family their lands, as well as his head. As his wife suggests, all he has to do is say he'll take the oath, he doesn't have to mean it. But puffy-eyed Northam does an admirable job hammering home More's rigid, regimented religious lifestyle, and turns him into a sympathetic character done in by his own blind faith.

Pip pip and cheers to Maria Doyle Kennedy. She's so convincing in conveying Catherine's piety that she'll make you forget in real life she's the same flakey singer who recorded a song called "F***kability." Your heart will go out to Catherine, who never wavers in her belief that she's the true Queen of England, and she remains Henry's loyal supporter and wife, despite being treated like a leper with the plague. My only complaint with Maria's performance is that she's so good at masking her Irish brogue with a Spanish accent that when she's at her most virtuous or in failing health (which requires her to whisper), she's occasionally as indecipherable as a sloshed Fernando Lamas. But her regal performance will certainly inspire you to turn back your hourglass and pick up Season One of the series, when she was more of a featured player.

James Frain's take on the cold blooded Cromwell is a study in low-boiled subtlety and stealth - the exact opposite of the blustery, bullish Rhys Meyers. You'd don't want to try and out-scheme the Chancellor with the Moe Howard haircut. Hans Matheson is equally fabulous as the callow, cowardly and malleable Cranmer who tries to stamp out corruption through corruption. His two scenes with his strong-willed German wife are droll and offer an amusing respite between Henry's bouts of bullying. Cranmer's wife is an illegal alien who's forced by law remain incognito. She travels from Germany to England in a box (yeah, pulled by an ox), and when Cromwell invites the Cramner's to dinner, she's forced to travel in the same box to get there. Whoa, 16th century Fed-X! When she begins to give a dissenting opinion on how to cripple the Roman Church and her husband begs her to be quiet, she demands to be heard, saying she's tired of being shut up (metaphorically and physically) in a box. The look on Cromwell's face says he approves whole-heartedly of her suggestion. "Good," she says, "now I'll get back in my box."

James Gilbert as the King's groom, Brereton, bears a striking resemblance to Jeremy Irons. He also resembles Henry Cavill, which led to some confusion figuring out who was who in the early going. Brereton is a bit like Spy vs. Spy or an inept Inspector Clousseau; he's determined to off Anne Boleyn, but muffs his best shot at killing her; then stands idle, spitting venomous lies and dreaming of assassinating her. Gilbert is a regal actor who's character should have been fleshed out more. The same can't be said for Jaime Thomas King, who plays playwright/poet Thomas Wyatt. He's an outwardly happy go-lucky lothario who's actually a sad sack who can't do much right - When was the last time the woman you loved hung herself? And when Anne Boleyn is accused of infidelity, he says in her defense that he's the only person who actually slept with her - and no one cares or believes him. His character should have been sent to the gallows before his second appearance. The same can be said for Nick Dunning, who plays the power-starved Thomas Boleyn. I can't exactly put my finger on what's wrong with Nick except to say he seems a bit too coarse for the part.

As for Anita Briem, who plays Jane Seymour (no, not Dr. Quinn the Medicine Woman, Henry's third wife) -- I can't wait to see more of Jane Seymour.

A Kingdom Of Extras

Showtime has come up with a brilliant method of self-promotion by including complete premier episodes of "Dexter" (Season Three), "Californication" (Season Two), "This American Life" (Season Two) and the first two episodes of the new series "United States of Tara."

If that wasn't enough, there are several other royal featurettes: "The Tower of London," and "Descendants of Henry," photo galleries (it's interesting to see the Duke of York smoking a Kent). and informative bios. The bios are more enlightening than the usual one of two paragraphs you find in standard issue DVDs; some go on for several pages. You'll pick up tasty tidbits, such as Maria Kennedy Doyle's CV as a recording artist - I for one was surprised to learn she was in "The Commitments" and has recorded three solo albums.

Natalie Dormer and Tom Stammers, the Tudor's historian, tour the Tower of London and talk about its connection to Anne Boleyn's life. Boleyn received her coronation at the Tower of London; three years later, she was imprisoned in the same room as she awaited her execution. Stammers also discusses the journals of Sir William Kingston, who oversaw the operations at the Tower. Kingston wrote extensively about Anne Boleyn and his opinions of her are reflected in the script.

"Descendants of Henry" tracks down some of the modern day descendants of Henry VIII, some of whom are unaware of their royal lineage. Amusing snippets from the series are interspersed with the interviews.

"Californication" is the story of a sex addict - starring a sex addict - David Duchovny. The former "X-Files" cult king stars as Hank Moody, a writer who tries to juggle his fractured relationship with his ex-girlfriend, the drug-drenched California lifestyle and his insatiable sexual appetite. It's lewd, crude, racy and not recommended for Republicans:

Doctor (giving Hank a vasectomy): Wanna see the section of the vas deferens I cut out?

Hank: Vas definitely not.

Pope Paul may not approve, but you will if you like ribald humor. What was more shocking for me was coming across two child actors who have grown definitely grown up. Madeline Zima, who played the neurotic Grace Sheffield on "The Nanny" plays Mia, a 16-year-old party girl deflowered by Hank who gets her revenge by stealing his manuscript, putting her name on it and getting a big payday. (For what it's worth, Zima is a youthful twenty-three, so sicking the Special Victim Unit's after Duchony won't help.) Zima will make you go zooma.

The other scene stealing child actor is Pamela Adlon. You might remember her as Pamela Segal (no relation to George). Standing a massive five feet tall, she was often cast as tomboys, biker chicks, or the spunky best friend on shows like "Night Court" and "The Facts of Life." As she got older, Pam got into voice overs and has been portraying Bobby on "King of the Hill" for the past 13 years. The sandy-voice actress plays
Marcy Ruckle, a coke-huffing dynamo who's producing X-rated features starring her husband, Charlie. (Pudgy, chrome-domed Evan Handler, who's credits include playing Larry Fine of the Three Stooges, plays Charlie. We're not talking John Holmes here. Sherlock or Larry perhaps, but not sex symbol material.)

"This American Life" is a visual magazine that covers a different theme each week. The two segments featured on the DVD focus on "escape." The first segment follows a bunch of inner city children who've taken up horseback riding. As one kid puts it, riding a horse is "ghettofabulous." One of the most striking visuals is a group of riders crossing an overpass above a congested highway, but the best part is seeing the freedom horseback riding affords the kids.

The second segment introduces the audience to Mike, a 27 year-old victim of SMA (spinal muscular atrophy) who's disabilities require 24-7 medical care. Bed-bound, speechless Mike's been under his mother's constant care virtually all of his life, and it's reached the stage where their relationship and nerves are strained. Mike wants more independence, Mom needs more vacation. Mike may have a virtually useless body, but his mind remains sharp, thanks to his ability to tap out messages on a computer keyboard (sentences can take up to three minutes to type), and the code of facial expressions he's developed. Exercising his independence, Mike also placed an ad on Craig's list for an assistant attendant to spell his Mom. One of his volunteers became his girlfriend, a story that's astounding on its own, but watching Mike conquer the simplest of tasks we take for granted as he tries to spread his wings is inspirational.

One of Showtime's newest series, "United States of Tara" stars Toni Collete as woman with multiple personalities. Having dated a young lady who was Marilyn Monroe one moment and Marilyn Manson the next, I can tell you Collete's performance is a lot funnier.

As for those of you who haven't discovered "Dexter" a show about a serial killer who helps cops put the cuffs on other killers, what chu waitin' for? The third season opener, included here, is a killer.

"The Tudors" is a crown jewel... And you don't have to swear an oath of allegiance in order to watch it.