Underdogs: Semi-Pro, The Other Boleyn Girl, The Counterfeiters, City of Men

By Brian D. Johnson - Friday, February 29, 2008 at 12:06 AM - 0 Comments

This weekend there’s a coin toss between two Hollywood offerings: a dumb-guy sports comedy with Will Ferrell and a girly melodrama with royal pedigree. My gender notwithstanding, I’d go for The Other Boleyn Girl over Semi-Pro—preferring to watch Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman engage in a lavishly-costumed Harlequin romance of a cat fight, than watch Will Farrell spin more shtick from what’s becoming his own private formula franchise.

The other new releases I’ve seen are foreign language films opening in limited release. I highly recommend The Counterfeiters, which won the Oscar last week for best foreign film. Brazil’s City of Men, a sequel to City of God, is a disappointment.

Semi-Pro

Another Wednesday night, another Hollywood promo screening. Taking the long escalator ride up the Mayan temple heights of Toronto’s Scotiabank multiplex, towards a giant poster of Will Farrell looming at the top, I was bracing myself for the usual promo nonsense, a tacky trivia contest for free t-shorts handed out by some loudmouth radio jock at the front of the theatre. But when I reached the top of the escalator, I did a double. There was Will Farrell, in the flesh. Talking to TV reporters on a red carpet. I didn’t even know he was in town. I stood there and gawked at him, like a civilian seeing a celebrity in the wild, before remembering I’m supposed to be a blasé professional, immune to that sort of stuff.
Farrell made a brief appearance to introduce the film. Reminded us that Canada is the birthplace of basketball, “even though you guys don’t excel in basketball, still.” Then he thanked a couple of the media sponsors, with one exception. “I don’t want to thank the Toronto Sun—it’s a rag.” That’s the perk of being a movie star; you can insult the local sponsor and get away with it.
And the movie? Well, it’s funny in fits and starts, but mostly succeeds in achieving the mediocrity it sets out to parody. Farrell seems to have settled into a sports comedy niche, recycling his persona as the garrulous idiot with an exaggerated sense of his own prowess.
In Semi-Pro, he plays Jackie Moon, the all-too-inspirational owner/coach/player/promoter of the Flint Tropics, an American Basketball Asssociation team that’s on the verge of extinction in the mid-1970s. With the help of a former NBA benchwarmer named Monnix (Woody Harrelson), Jackie tries to leads his hapless squad into a fourth-place finish, with the hope of finding a place for them in an ABA merger with the NBA.
In the double-jointed satirical style pioneered by SCTV, Semi-Pro parodies at least two things at once. Jackie, the semi-pro with a ‘fro, made his name as a chart-topping soul singer, a one-hit wonder who’s still dining out on his signature song, Love Me Sexy, an overripe bedroom ballad with lines like “lick me” and “suck me” undercutting the heavy-breathing romance.
The white soul stuff is so funny it made me wish I were watching another movie, a funk version of This is Spinal Tap. But despite a few hilarious bits of sketch comedy, Semi-Pro succumbs to the sports comedy formula it’s sending up. There are at least two movies trying to get made here. Ferrell flies over the tops as the gonzo star of a reckless goofball farce in which nothing matters. Harrelson plays his role as straight drama, without a wink of irony, as if he’s a hero in a Oliver Stone movie. I guess that’s supposed to be funny. But Semi-Pro, a first feature directed by Kent Alterman, seems stuck between two styles. The story, which gives Harrelson the most token lip service of a love interest, is half-baked. A lot of the comic devices feel stale, including the local play-by-play broadcast duo, who are right out of vintage SCTV. And as boredom set in, given the setting of Flint, Mich., I found myself looking forward to a Michael Moore cameo, which never materialized.
Semi-Pro is, to put it charitably, semi-good. And I’m sure it will make a load of money.

The Other Boleyn Sister

There was no time to be bored in this breathless period piece about royal misbehavior, although I was often bewildered and confused. Based on the Philippa Gregory bestseller, The Other Boleyn Sister blazes through a great swath of history in well under two hours. As the sisters who become rivals for Henry VIII’s affection, Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman are like the Betty and Veronica of the Tudor court—Scarlett as the sweet blonde good girl and Portman as the devious brunette bitch. Between them is Eric Bana, who almost succeeds in turning Henry VIII into the world’s grooviest wife-killer. All three actors are eminently watchable in this brisk, torrid drama, which I’d be tempted to call a bodice-ripper if it were not so sexually tame. Taking wild fictional license with history—with a feat of compression as efficient as the MacBook Air—The Other Boleyn Sister is a compelling costume drama. But it could be hotter. If you’re going to ride roughshod over history, why not go all the way. Maybe this I’m just a guy looking for perverse kicks in a chick flick, but this movie almost cries out for ménage-a-trois.
For more on The Other Boyleyn Sister, and an interview with it’s author go to my piece in the magazine, TKTKTK.

The Counterfeiters
This is the first Austrian feature to win an Oscar. Although it’s not as strong as some films that failed, inexplicably, to get a nomination (notably Romania’s 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days), it’s strong stuff, a Holocaust drama that that hinges a prisoner’s classic moral dilemma—the choice between survival and resistance. Based on a true story, it’s about Salomon “Sally” Sorowitsch (Kark Markovics), counterfeiting genius who is arrested by the Nazis and sent to the Mauthausen concentration camp. Soon he is transferred to Sachsenhausen, and given country club treatment as he’s drafted into masterminding an operation to counterfeit British and American currency for the Nazi war effort. One of this team, Adolph Burger (August Diehl) works to sabotage the operation as an act of resistance against the fascists. But if the inmate team of counterfeiters don’t produce results, they face execution. Salamon negotiates these impossible strait with a criminal pragmatism that, in the end, salvages nobility from compromise. And the operation’s Nazi commander (Devid Striesow), who’s stuck in his own marriage of convenience with the Nazis, knows what’s going on and brokers the whole situation like an odd mix of humanity and ruthlessness.
What makes this film a must-see is Markovics, who plays Saloman. Not just his performance, but his face—a long, dour, hound-dog face that suggests a cosmic shrug, splitting the difference between resignation and resistance. It’s the kind of face that could have starred in silent movies.

City of Men
This sequel to Brazil’s City of God offers another vivid taste of gang violence in the favelas of Rio, but lacks the raw power and virtuosity of the original, which was directed by Fernando Meirelles. Directed by Meirelles’ longtime collaborator, Paulo Morelli, this film is based on a 19-episode TV series, which ran on Brazil’s TV Globo from 2002-05, drawing some 35 million viewers. It’s a story of fathers and sons anchored in the friendshp of two brothers who are just turning 18: Ace (Naima Silva) and Wallace (Darlan Cunha). Ace is stuck with caring for his young son while his mother goes to work in another city. He never new his father, who who was gunned down when he was a child. Wallace, meanwhile, is obsessed with tracking down his deadbeat dad, who split before he was born. This personal drama takes place against the action of a g
ang war for the high ground in the hills of Rio.
The actors are strong, the sense of location is vividly authentic, but the script is disjointed. The exposition is crudely spelled out, the characters thinly drawn. It does feel like something that’s been distilled from a TV series. I found the hyper-kinetic, shoot-em-up of City of God too lurid for comfort. City of Men is much quieter, more palatable fare, mixing gang warfare with postcared panaromas of Rio. There’s virtually no bloodshed for the first hour. But after a while I was starting to miss the vertigo-like violence of the earlier film.

Dream campaign, not dream ticket

By Mitchel Raphael - Thursday, February 28, 2008 at 3:55 PM - 0 Comments

Democrats across America have to be ecstatic about the campaign for the nomination of their party. Record turnouts, well financed campaigns among the frontrunners, an impressive array of candidates, and the identification of issues that resonate with the electorate all contribute to make this a dream campaign. The current showdown between Clinton and Obama only add to the drama and the excitement of an already memorable race.

Many Democrats have openly expressed the wish these two candidates become the Democratic ticket in November. In my view, this is wishful thinking and would be a less-than-desirable outcome. Both candidates need running mates that correct weaknesses in their respective candidacies. Clinton needs a running mate who is likable, appeals to independents and brings a geographical balance. It is possible after this campaign that she may need to look for a candidate who also plays to certain demographics. And we must not forget being able to live in the shadow of Bill!

Obama needs a running mate who has experience and has played an executive role in government. Obama’s strengths with independents, various demographic groups and his performance in “Red states” requires a candidate less inspirational than he, but reassuring to an electorate that will be choosing a president in times of uncertainty and risk. We must not forget the Republican opponent: the experienced John McCain.

This campaign has been long and arduous and it will leave scars. The recent attacks by Clinton on Obama will be used by the Republicans in the fall election should Obama win the nomination. It is also clear from the debates that Obama has labeled Clinton as the candidate of the status quo and the past. It would be difficult for Obama to maintain the momentum of transformational change by asking Mrs. Clinton to be his running mate. Hillary Clinton cannot suddenly choose Obama as the man who will be standing a heartbeat from the presidency when she has labeled him as untested as George W. Bush was in 2000. So we may be observing a dream campaign but we are nowhere close to the dream ticket.

Great Moments in Leadership

By Scott Feschuk - Thursday, February 28, 2008 at 6:17 AM - 0 Comments

Regular blogging will resume next week, but until then…

“We will not defeat the government on this budget, but we will not support this budget. We will find a way to not defeat the government and express our disagreement with the budget.” – Stephane Dion, Super Genius

Imagine how Canadian oratorical history would have been improved if only some of our previous leaders would have had the courage of Dion’s convictions:

Laurier: “The nineteenth century was the century of the United States. I think that we can claim that it is Canada that shall fill the twentieth century.”

Dion: “The nineteenth century was the century of the United States. I think that we can claim that it is Canada, or possibly Norway, that shall fill the twentieth century. Norway’s looking solid. And I’ve got a good feeling about Germany. I guess what I’m saying is that Canada’s definitely in the top three of countries most likely to fill the twenti— hang on, forgot Japan.”

King: “Conscription if necessary, but not necessarily conscription.”

Dion: “Conscription if necessary, but not necessarily conscription if necessary.”

Trudeau: “The state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation.

Dion: “The state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation. It does, however, have a place in the bedrooms of the nation. [Awkward silence.] What?”

Mulroney: “You had an option, sir. You could have said no.”

Dion: “You had several options, sir. You could have said no. Or ‘Yes.’ You also could have said ‘Maybe.’ You could have said all these things simultaneously. You could have said, ‘Let me get back to you on that. How’s never? Is never good for you?’, which would have been very clever, or ‘Hey, look over there, isn’t that Catherine Bach from Dukes of Hazzard?’ – and then you could have rushed to your car and driven quickly away. You could have said words that aren’t even words, like ‘Bleergh’ or ‘Woonf!’ and used the ensuing confusion to adopt a smug expression. You could also have hummed.”

Oscar Night: Live from the Living Room

By Brian D. Johnson - Sunday, February 24, 2008 at 7:58 PM - 0 Comments

6:55 pm. Typing without a net for the first time, making my live blog debut. So indulge me while I get the hang of it—this notion of journalism as one of the performing arts. Or performance art, given that I’ll be typing in an living room of full Oscar watchers. I’m at an Oscar party hosted by Helga Stevenson, former director of the Toronto International Film Festival. Most guests haven’t arrived yet.I’ll be doing this, somewhat non-stop, for almost as long as a flight from Toronto to Vancouver.

We’re watching Ben Mulroney and Jeanne Becker. Jeanne was actually here last year, watching the show at Helga’s house. Ben has hair that looks like it’s been laminated, a hemet that makes Stephen Harper’s look like Mick Jagger’s.

“It’s Juno’s world and we’re just living in it,” Ben Mulroney tells Juno director Jason Reitman.

“I don’t have a speech ready,” says Reitman. “I’m not going to win tonight. There’s a certain joy in knowing your not going to win. I still can’t believe I’m here. It never creeped into my mind.” When Ben says he’d like to see Juno nominated for a Juno. I guess he means a Genie, or that’s how Reitman interprets, as he asserts the CanCon of his film, although it’s not considered a Canadian production for Genie purposes. “We’ve made a Canadian film,” he says, “and its time for Canada to realize that.”

***

Handicapping Oscar: No Academy For Young Men

By Brian D. Johnson - Thursday, February 21, 2008 at 1:02 PM - 0 Comments

If you’re hoping I can help you win your office pool, stop reading right now. I’ve never won an Oscar pool. Someone who’s seen all the movies tends to vote with his heart, which is fatal. In fact, a number of the movies I’d like to vote for are not even nominated.

So first a moment of silence for those left behind. As much as I appreciate Juno, it’s a crime that Into the Wild was overlooked and its director, Sean Penn, was not recognized rather than Jason Reitman. David Cronenberg and Eastern Promises should have been recognized, in addition to Viggo Mortenson’s best actor nod. And Frank Langella deeply deserved a best actor nomination for his heartbreaking performance in Starting Out in the Evening. So who would I drop from the list to make room for him? How about Johnny Depp? Sure, he did a swell job in Sweeney Todd, achieving sinister elegance and proving he could carry a show tune, but this was not an exceptional performance. It was a feat of style, not emotion. Everyone loves Johnny Depp, myself included. But he used to be the Hollywood outsider, the underrated genius risking obscure roles; now he’s Mr. Movie Star and he can do no wrong. Just as Angelina Jolie’s unpopularity may have prevented her from being recognized for her brilliant portrayal of Marianne Pearl in A Mighty Heart. She was robbed.

Other Oscar crimes include the failure to nominate Romania’s 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days or France’s animated Persepolis. Neither even made the long list of the year’s best foreign-language films, which are chosen by committee. That only reaffirms that the Oscars are not the Olympics of film—that role still falls to Cannes. The Academy Awards are really the American Movie Awards, which of course includes Canada (the studios actually consider us part of the their domestic market.)

With that grumbling out of the way, let’s look at the nominees. I’m not going to bother with the technical categories—even though Oscar pools are won or lost on them—because your guess is as good as mine. We’ll start in the reverse order of the show.

Best Picture
No Country for Old Men should and will win. The past year saw a renaissance of revisionist westerns and the Coen brothers’ faithful adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel is the best of the bunch. And in a year of dark, violent movies about terror and retribution, it was also the most emblematic, the one that put its finger on the zeitgiest. There Will Be Blood, Oscar’s other nominated West Texas epic, pales in comparison. It’s a virtual one-man show by Daniel Day Lewis, who gives a gusher of a performance that’s hugely impressive but sucks the air out of the movie. And for all its momentous drama, There Will Be Blood is a strangely bloodless gothic comedy. Give me the ensemble acting and reflective emotion of No Country any day. Michael Clayton and Juno, they’re too lightweight to win. As for Atonement, it looks and feels like a classic Oscar-pedigree film, a sweeping wartime romance with seven nominations. But it didn’t exactly set the world on fire. Besides, the Academy is dominated by old men; No Country speaks to them where they live.

Best Actor
Daniel Day Lewis has a lock on this one. Oscar loves British actors and big showy performances, and he provides both. My favorite of the nominees is Viggo Mortensen, whose dead-cool but intensely physical role in Eastern Promises offers the antithesis to Day Lewis: a masterpiece of understatement. In the Valley of Elah’sTommy Lee Jones will get a sentimental vote, for playing the old man with no country in two films. Clooney and Depp are both popular. But Day Lewis looks invincible.

Best Actress
Julie Christie is the front-runner for playing an Alzheimer’s victim who forgets she’s married in Sarah Polley’s little miracle, Away From Her. I expect her to win: there’s nothing quite like seeing a great screen icon emerge from semi-retirement to play a woman with a disease, and transcend the potential pitfalls of that Oscar cliché. Blanchett’s vote will be split by her supporting nomination for I’m Not There. Laura Linney was wonderful in The Savages, but the movie and the role are too slight. There’s a strong campaign pushing for Marion Cotillard’s brilliant performance in the otherwise pedestrian Edith Piaf biopic, La Vie En Rose. She could win in an upset. As for Canada’s sweetheart, Ellen Page, she’s the hottest actress on the planet right now, and everyone loves her in Juno. But it’s very unusual for Oscar to give Best Actress to someone so young—newcomers usually win only in the supporting categories. I’m not even sure if it would be good for her to win. That puts a lot of pressure on a tender career. But stranger things have happened.

Best Director
I’d go for the Coen brothers on this one. They won the Directors Guild of America award, which is usually a reliable predictor of the Oscar. If there’s a wild card here, it would be Julian Schnabel for The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which many might feel was unfairly shut out of best picture and actor categories, although it drew nominations for editing, cinematography and adapted screenplay. Jason Reitman should be happy, and surprised, to be in this company

Best Supporting Actor
There’s no question that Javier Bardem will win for his powerful turn as a deadpan psychopath with an inscrutable moral code in No Country For Old Men. Bardem has created a character that transcends villainy. He’s also the only nominated actor from the film, representing an ensemble of superb performances. Casey Affleck would be the runner up for his fine-tuned, beautifully skittish portrayal of a fan/assassin in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, a film I liked more than most critics. And Phillip Seymour Hoffman was a hoot as a renegade CIA guy in Charlie Wilson’s War, but it was “only” comedy, Oscar awards visible effort, and he makes it look like he can do it in his sleep.

Best Supporting Actress
My vote goes to Cate Blanchett for her androgynous tour de force in the Bob Dylan six-pack, I’m Not There. I loved this movie more than most people, but almost everyone seems taken by her performance. If there’s a Blanchett backlash, or if not enough voters saw the film, the two contenders who could displace her are Atonement’s Saoirse Ronan and Gone Baby Gone’s Amy Ryan.

Best Original Screenplay
Expect Juno’s Diablo Cody to take this prize. But I thought her screenplay, while inspired, wasn’t terribly strong. Riddled with showy and rather unnatural one-liners, it adopts an idiosynchratic youthspeak that seems inauthentic. In an Oscar pool I’d vote for Juno, but if I were an Academy member, I’d choose Ratatouille, one of the wittiest and most inspired movies of the year.

Best Adapted Screenplay
The favorite here is No Country for Old Men, and it will probably win. But the Coens’ adaptation of McCarthy was straightforward and fairly literal. Hardly rocket science. So there could be surprises. Atonement is a literary epic, a picture about writing that’s full of writing, the kind of film you can watch and say—now that’s writing! Even the score employed a typewriter. And don’t underestimate Sarah Polley’s chances for Away From Her. She’s immensely popular. The Los Angeles Times just ran a massive article on her, pointing out that what she has achieved is unprecedented. And she’s a star, a writer with a personality voters can recognize and root for. More to the point, Away From Her’s version of Alice Munro’s short story is a singular feat of adaptation, one that expands rather than shrinks the source material. And sheer nerve of choosing to make a film of such an unlikely story, landing Julie Christie, and pairing her with Gordon Pinsent—it all cries out for recognition. In my Oscar pool, I think I might just vote with my heart. Go Sarah, go!

Best Documentary Feature
It’s a toss up between No End in Sight and Sicko. Although Michael Moore has won before, he has a strong constituency of fans and he’s made a movie about a health care, an issue that Americans can take to heart regardless of their partisan views. And although Moore takes his usual poetic license for the sake of satire, for once he’s not mean-spirited, and this happens to be the best, and fairest, documentary of his career.

Best Animated Film
A no brainer. Ratatouille.

Best Animated Short Film
I’ve included this category because it has two Canadian contenders: I Met the Walrus and Madame Tutli-Putli. They’re both terrific. Madame Tutli-Putli, a 17-minute thriller about a ghost train is like Hitchcock on acid. It’s a scary, exquisite little masterpiece, and the most cinematically accomplished of the two. But I Met the Walrus, which animates a 1966 audio interview John Lennon gave to a 14-year-old Jerry Levitan in Toronto, is also witty and inspired. Plus it’s got novelty and stardom on its side, both important when it comes to awards. I haven’t seen the other nominees, but if the category comes down to a contest between these two Canadian gems, I’d say I Met the Walrus will win.

Best Foreign Language Film
I haven’t seen a single one of them. They haven’t been released yet. And the most obvious contenders were shut out. Go figure.

Phat Actress

By Scott Feschuk - Wednesday, February 20, 2008 at 7:06 AM - 0 Comments

People magazine is reporting “exclusively” that Kirstie Alley is stepping down as a spokesperson for the Jenny Craig Company and plans to launch her own line of weight-loss products in 2009. Alley has released a lengthy statement explaining her decision (the ever-reliable National Enquirer says she was actually fired because she’s getting really fat again). The statement is reprinted below, along with my explanatory notes and elaborations in bold.

Statement from Kirstie Alley:

After lengthy negotiations, regretfully, the Jenny Craig Company and I did not come to an agreement to continue as their spokesperson.

My relationship with the Jenny Craig Company was nothing short of extraordinary. The people I worked with at Jenny were first rate [except for that bitch who’d raise her eyebrow judgmentally when she weighed me].

The program spoke for itself as the world watched me lose 75 pounds [people in Kenya and the Federated States of Micronesia were particularly enthralled by my dieting.] The last three years have been a win-win for all involved, especially all those other Jenny clients who took the journey alongside me [and the defenceless children I did not dip in chocolate and swallow whole while watching Days of Our Lives].

Just having [Jenny Craig clients] there with me was an inspiration and a motivation to continue. Thank you to all of you from the bottom of my heart [which doctors can now find again without a map and a trench shovel].

J.C. now has two talented pros on board, and I have no doubt that Valerie Bertinelli and Queen Latifah, along with the excellent products in the J.C. program, will steer the ship to continuing success. I personally wish them the same excellent results and amazing adventures that I experienced as the J.C. spokesperson. [Memo to Valerie and Queen: Fat people will hug and cry on you. Wear something washable.]

Somehow, I’ve also fallen into the position of “accidental” role model for, apparently, millions of people out there losing weight by whatever means. This was something I did not bargain for, or foresee happening [or have the ability to fully exploit financially on account of Jenny taking all the profits]. Nevertheless, it is something I’ve grown to embrace and something I intend to continue to pursue [eventually… hang on a minute… just gotta catch my breath here and… mmm! Cookie!]

As for me, I am from the school of “you may not be able to reinvent the wheel but you can sure try to better it” [is that in the Ivy League?] which has proven to be a very successful attitude for Michelin tires [Whaaa??]. Even my own mentor left a major weight-loss company when she was 51 years old and struck out on her own to create her own brand that we now know as “the Jenny Craig weight-loss program.” I had not intended to make this announcement at this time, but after an online PEOPLE magazine article ran last Friday, announcing that I had stepped down as Jenny’s spokesperson, I found myself bombarded with inquiries from the media and fans [Two qualifies as a “bombard,” right?]. So I guess it’s as good of a time as any to announce that I intend to develop and pilot my own weight-loss brand that I hope to launch in 2009. [Until then: Keep eating, fatties!]

The weight-loss field is wide open and not immune to new ideas and improved solutions for the fat problems that plague many of us Americans every day [One of the fat problems that plagues Americans: Rosie O’Donnell]. I want to create something new that will help millions of people end the seemingly never ending fatty-roller coaster ride.

Other rides, besides the ‘fatty-roller coaster,’ available at the Fatty Amusement Park:

• Ferris Wheel of Cheese

• Yule Log Ride

• Deep-fried Octopus

• White Chocolate Canyon

• Pirates of the Caribbean Lime Steak

• Fun House of Pancakes

• Guilt-a-Whirl

I am especially passionate about seeing to it that our next generations are not struggling with the same weight issues that my generation has struggled with. [Although it would be great if just the very next generation could struggle so that I can afford that house in the south of France.]

There was a time when America was not fat, and that was in our not-so-distant past [In fact, it was March 12, 1997, at the precise moment a plane carrying Star Jones crossed out of American airspace]. I’m confident that I can create something exciting and innovative: something that if all goes well, will help change a fat America back into a fit America and will offer this country the healthiest, yummiest, easiest and most effective weight-loss program on the market. [Step One: Don’t eat so much. Step Two: Uhh, that’s it.]

If not, I’ll see you at Central Casting.

Oh, but hey, don’t “Call Kirstie” just yet. You’ll be on hold too long. Call me next year. [Just don’t call me late for dinner!]

Liveblogging PROC: His point – and he *does* have one … (From the archives)

By kadyomalley - Thursday, February 14, 2008 at 4:22 PM - 0 Comments

11:03:20 AM
Well, this
meeting has a lot to live up to, as far as the standard set by Ethics.
Bang goes the gavel, and the Conservatives lose no time in proposing
that the committee proceed “immediately” to Bill C6, the veiled voter
bill. (Incidentally, my entirely unsolicited recommendation: kill it
with fire.)
Continue…

Definitely, Maybe. . . Not!

By Brian D. Johnson - Thursday, February 14, 2008 at 1:10 PM - 0 Comments

One of the cardinal rules for surviving Valentine’s Day is to avoid “celebrating” your relationship with a batch of other couples in a fancy restaurant offering that “very special” menu. The other is to avoid that very special romantic comedy that Hollywood has decided to release as the ideal Valentine date movie.

I would love to love Definitely, Maybe, if only because it stars Canadian actor Ryan Reynolds—who seems like a smart, decent human being in spite of his matinee idol looks and ability to date Scarlett Johannson—and because it’s is written and directed by Canadian filmmaker Adam Brooks. But I can’t find it in my heart to even give this movie even a mixed review. It’s a clunker.

Guys beware. Although Reynolds plays the central character, this is a romantic comedy that panders to the opposite sex in the worst way. He plays Will, a perfect dad in mid-divorce, who unravels his early love life as a G-rated bedtime story,for his daughter (Abigail Breslin, who’s getting a little too old to be pushing the cute, precocious button). Will is a sensitive, unthreatening, largely docile hunk of good intent. A vision of manhood as a champagne truffle. The only thing that could make him more abjectly eligible is if her were a widower.

In a ponderous series of flashbacks, Reynolds serves as a confused and strangly placid leading man befuddled by a choice of prospective mates—Isla Fischer, Elizabeth Banks and Rachel Weisz. The narrative is framed as a guessing game: as we work our way through this tale of romantic trial and error, his daughter, and the audience, try to figure out which woman will turn out to be the girl’s mother.

What gives the story some timely resonance is that it’s set against the backdrop of Bill Clinton’s first primary campaign, but the politics just serves as so much wallpaper, and a device to reinforce the notion that Will starts out as a naïve idealist who (like America) has his illusions tarnished once he’s been around the block.

Romantic comedy is a delicate form, the thoroughbred of Hollywood genres. Ideally it should clock in at under 100 minutes. If you let it sprawl beyond two hours, as this one does, it better have enough laughs, and enough dramatic tension, to sustain the length. Definitely, Maybe doesn’t sustain its running time.

I’m not sure this fiasco is Reynolds’ fault, aside from the fact that he decided to do it in the first place. The script lacks wit. The danger of gift-wrapping the story in the pink gauze of a little girl’s bedtime story tends to drain any sexiness right out of it. And as a clueless guy beset by circumstance, Reynolds simply isn’t given enough to do. It’s as if he’s playing the gormless chick in a more conventional romance. In the name of converting this comic actor from smart-ass frat boy to mature leading man, his sharp edges have been sand-blasted away, and there’s not a whole lot left. He doesn’t even look good in this movie. Somehow director Brooks has managed to shoot him so that he appears blank, small-eyed and bland. If you can’t deliver a devastating close-up of your romantic lead in a film like this, you’re in deep trouble.

So is Ryan Reynolds destined to be a Canadian answer to Ben Affleck—in other words, will Definitely, Maybe sink his career as a romantic lead? Well, definitely maybe. But I feel there’s an untapped talent here that still hasn’t found the right role. But, without being so cruel as to suggest that his latest movie is a disaster, I talked to Reynolds recently for the magazine. I found him charming, intelligent and candid. You can find that interview, along with some other thoughts about Definitely, Maybe, by clicking on Walking the Hollywood high wire.

New National Pastime

By Scott Feschuk - Wednesday, February 13, 2008 at 7:12 AM - 0 Comments

Accused drug cheat Roger Clemens appears before Congress today. What can we expect?

• The most crotch-grabbing seen on Capitol Hill since days of Clinton impeachment.

• Clemens enters ornate committee room by crashing through wall like Kool-Aid guy, casting doubt on ’roid-free claims.

• Claims mysterious mid-career weight gain came not from illicit substances but from eating delicious batboy.

• Brushes back aggressive senator by hurling his lawyer high and inside.

• Insists he gave “human growth” hormone to wife only because he thought that’s how you make a baby.

• Had no idea guy sticking needles in his ass was actually injecting anything – just thought it was fun.

• Consults not with attorney but with large talking mass growing on his left shoulder.

• Admits 60 Minutes appearance a failure in that he never got to meet Andy Rooney.

• Keeps saying: “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

Liveblogging PROC: Bustafila! Round Three (From the archives)

By kadyomalley - Tuesday, February 12, 2008 at 4:22 PM - 0 Comments

11:00:13 AM
An oddly serene atmosphere in the room, given the tensions simmering at
the table. On the agenda today: an opposition-backed motion to sidestep
any further attempts at filibustering by the Conservatives, and finally
get down to the business of debating whether or not to investigate the
‘In and out’ controversy.
Continue…

Beaver Tales

By Scott Feschuk - Tuesday, February 12, 2008 at 9:03 AM - 0 Comments

The new Bell commercial features a couple of forlorn dudes staring out the window of their luxury dude pad. They’re gazing across at another building – into the window of a condo where two hot babes are hanging out at what we’re led to believe is the swanky dude pad of a couple other dudes.

Forlorn Dude No. 1 inquires forlornly: “What do they got that we don’t?” (ie. Why are them rival dudes scoring hot babes while we’re sitting here being all forlorny?)

Cut to the women. One is watching TV and marveling at the number of HD channels. The other is using a laptop computer and marveling at the download speed of the Internet connection. (Fun girls.)

Subsequently, it is revealed that the rival dudes, the dudes who have landed these fine, fine babes, are… Frank and Gordon, the computer-generated beavers who have been inflicted upon a defenceless TV-viewing public since the 2006 Winter Olympics.

Okaaaaaaaay.

So what are we to take from this commercial? What are we being led to believe happens after the commercial ends?

I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re being led to believe these two hot babes screw Frank and Gordon.

I don’t see how you can take it any other way. The beavers are clearly romancing the chicks (they’ve even prepared food for them, presumably on the hair- and feces-covered 20-inch-high stove they have in the kitchen). The chicks are clearly charmed and there of their own accord. All that’s left for this abomination of nature to take its course.

What an oddball way to market your company as a reliable go-to source for high-definition television and high-speed Internet.

Hey, honey, we need to get an HD provider for our new high-def plasma. Should we go with Rogers?

No, the one with the beastiality ads. Human chicks on semi-aquatic rodents. That seems like a company we can trust.

I look forward to the next series of Bell ads, where Frank and Gordon discover their, uhh, special feelings for each other.

Liveblogging PROC: We'll stop blogging when he stops talking – the return of the killer filibuster (From the archives)

By kadyomalley - Thursday, February 7, 2008 at 4:22 PM - 0 Comments

10:58:45 AM
It’s baaack -
the Procedure and House Affairs committee, that is, after an enforced
time out that sent opposition parties into a collective fit of pique.
The morbidly curious can read the original posts for details; suffice it to say that no one knows exactly what’s going to happen today.
Continue…

Liveblogging the Procedure and House Affairs Committee: Filibuster ahoy! (From the archives)

By kadyomalley - Tuesday, February 5, 2008 at 4:22 PM - 0 Comments

11:03:27 AM
Order, order! Actually, it was far less dramatic than that. The chair just gavelled his way into control of the meeting, which we’re joining already in progress. The meeting was in camera ’til now, so the reporters who have shown up — and there are a surprising number of us — will have to catch up via deductive reasoning and/or tipoffs from members’ staff.

Michel Guimond is making disturbing half-references to something that sounds suspiciously like a possible filibuster. He’s discussing what happens if there are no “motions to adjourn” when 1pm rolls around. Basically, the committee keeps going, and going, and going, and going, and eventually, a committee made up of the great-great grandchildren of today’s members, as well as superintelligent robots, will find our dessicated bodies, still wearing earpieces.
Continue…

Like the Super Bowl, But Even Superier

By Scott Feschuk - Tuesday, February 5, 2008 at 11:13 AM - 0 Comments

Welcome to the Mailbag on Monday (on Super Tuesday), where we are still trying to come to grips with the words chosen by Maria Shriver to endorse Barack Obama. “I thought, if Barack Obama was a state, he’d be California,” Arnold Schwarzenegger’s wife said to an L.A. crowd of 9,000. “Diverse, open, smart, independent, bucks tradition. Innovative. Inspirational. Dreamer. Leader.” That’s great, Maria, except you left out: “Parched, shallow, chronically anorexic. Viewed with detached amusement by the rest of America. Surgically enhanced. Somehow involved in the porn industry.”

As ever, these are actual questions from actual readers. You can send questions to scott.feschuk@macleans.rogers.com or just click on the Sympatico e-mail link above.

Dear Scott: Did you watch the big Obama-Clinton debate? Could you believe how nice they were to each other? – F.G., Waterloo, Ont.

Nice?! Hillary and Barack weren’t just nice. At one point during the “debate” I calculated there was at least a 5% chance they were going to start making out (at which point Wolf Blitzer would have interjected to say, “I just want to be precise here – can I get in on this?”) The best part was when Wolf asked each of them if they’d serve as the other’s running mate. A black man serving in the White House alongside a white woman: I was watching CNN but I swear I heard Bill O’Reilly’s head explode four channels over.

Dear Scott: Today I saw Robert DeNiro introducing Barack Obama. It seems like all the cool celebrities are going with Obama and staying away from Hillary Clinton. What gives? – B.D., Montreal

Hang on there! Sure, Obama’s got DeNiro and Oprah and George Clooney – but Clinton has secured the support of Barbra Streisand, Steven Spielberg and, uhh, does the guy who played Arnold Schwarzenegger’s genetically inferior brother in Twins count? No? Okay, then, Hillary is clearly going to have to come up with a bigger name to headline her team of celebrity endorsers. Let’s take a look at the field of potential names:

Judge Judy
Pros: Well-known across the country. Family-friendly, law-abiding image. Small but loyal fan base.
Cons: Bill might hit on her.

Dr. Phil
Pros: Well-known across the country. Could probably score bucketloads of Xanax for campaign team. Such a big prick that he’d make Hillary look sweet and decent by comparison.
Cons: Bill might hit on him.

John F. Kennedy
Pros: Fondly regarded as America’s sassiest president. Way more popular and horny than the Kennedys who are supporting Obama.
Cons: Dead – but then again so is Reagan and that hasn’t stopped every Republican from seeking his endorsement.

Britney Spears
Pros: Endorsement would get scads of media coverage. Probably has some delicious pork rinds trapped in her cleavage.
Cons: Mentally unstable demographic officially withholding political support in anticipation of Ralph Nader’s entry.

The Huge Killer Monster from Cloverfield
Pros: Intimately familiar with New York. Thick skin renders it invulnerable to most character, and all airborne missile, attacks. Record of public service includes merciless killing of annoyingly bland twentysomething hipsters who never should have gone back into the city anyway, the stupid idiots.
Cons: Easily mistaken for Ted Kennedy on a bender.

Dear Scotty: I’ve been reading the Couch Boys football blog you did with [Scott] Reid. With the NFL season over with, I’m going through big-time withdrawal when it comes to wagering on games. Any betting opportunities for Super Tuesday? – P.I., Calgary

Vegas has set the over-under at 17.5 for televised utterances of the phrase, “It’s going to be a long night.” Take the over. And I just don’t see how you can resist betting a few bucks on I Can’t Understand What James Carville is Saying (plus 6.5) vs. I Wish Ann Coulter Would Shut the Hell Up.

Dear Scott: I read that Britney’s father has been granted “control of her affairs.” What does that mean exactly? What responsibilities does he have? – G.V., Brampton, Ont.

The tasks differ in each case of this sort, depending of course on the life and work obligations of the incapacitated individual. In this case, in addition to having full authority over the pop star’s fortune (currently estimated at $40-million plus empties), Jamie Spears has been assigned by the court to exercise several other duties on behalf of his daughter:

• Must feed invisible hamster, Mr. Sequins.

• Those hours of late-night television static aren’t going to videotape themselves.

• Now legally obligated to flash his vagina at paparazzi.

Dear Scott: On the front of your magazine’s website, Paul Wells is described as a “celebrated Maclean’s columnist.” Who celebrated him and what was the party like? – F.F., Ottawa

Balloons, streamers, music, booze, naked dancing girls – you should have been there, F.F.! Come to think of it, we probably should have invited Wells.

Dear Scott: So on a snowy campaign trip through somewhere impossibly snowy like Vermont, it so happens that Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama are stranded…together…alone together…on a luxurious campaign bus. It is so impossibly snowy and blustery outside that they tie into a few bottles of bubbly. They then tie into some Louis XIII. All of a sudden Hillary is looking all kinds of hot, and they get real nice and acquainted-like, if you know what I mean. Nine totally normal and shameless months later, under heavy epidural, out pops a little product of their union. Describe the life and characteristics of this child. – J.G., Saskatoon

Fluent in English and bullshit by the age of three days, William Jefferson Obama was a precocious child prone to soaring oratory and inexplicable crying jags. His was a happy childhood as little Willie scampered playfully through the halls of the White House, where his mother worked as President and his father parked cars. Unsurprisingly, William evinced a keen interest in public service and at the tender age of 15 launched a maverick bid for student council president, losing handily to his Uncle Bill.