8 posts tagged “movies”

So, I took a break for August. Well, I didn't so much take one as it just kind of happened. I've been writing and editing more lately, and that means I want to write and edit and read even less for kicks and giggles. I started a few posts but didn't get a chance to make them public (although I vowed not to revise-revise-revise any more or delete posts nearly finished, so I will make them public). To get back to posting regularly, here's another pop culture List of Lasts.

Last movie at a theater: The Dark Knight. I wanted to see it the week it came out, but that didn't happen. So I waited a bit and made it a Matinee Escape. So what can I say that hasn't been covered by everyone else in the Free World (although, evidently, it's not doing as well in Japan)? Heath Ledger went above and beyond and he elevated this character, this film, this genre. Check. Christian Bale is the best Batman ever. Check. Even though his over-compensating batvoice takes me out of the moment and makes me want to smack him in the batmask. Check. Maggie Gyllnehall was so much better than Katie Holmes could ever have hoped to be. Check. Okay, on that note, I was also grateful to see Maggie Gyllenhall (who I generally like as an actress but don't love because I've become annoyed by her simpering although it was still fabulous to see a film where her bare breasts don't deserve a co-starring credit) playing Aaron Eckhart's love interest instead of Mrs. Tom Cruise. After watching Thank You for Smoking many times, I don't think I could sit through that lack of chemistry again. And although I do love me some Aaron Eckhart, I felt his Harvey Dent was kind of hollow in spots, but then maybe that's the point. Or maybe Heath Ledger's Joker was just so powerful it sucked all possible depth from the atmo on set. My only real complaint was that it felt a bit too long but I am not sure where even ten minutes could have been cut, unlike The Incredible Hulk. So, yes, it really was all that and a bag of butter drenched popcorn, and is not only a great superhero flick, but also just a good film. Yet I think I enjoyed Marvel's Ironman more, which I wish I could blame on how I gravitate more toward Marvel's characters, but to be honest, it's all about Robert Downey Jr., no use denying it.

Last movie on the cable: On a Clear Day. A little British film starring Brenda Blethyn. Peter Mullan plays Frank, a Scottish metal worker who is laid off and decides to swim the English Channel in order to deal with his frustrations and depression brought on by unemployment. As he starts to train with the help of friends, it is obvious he also needs to work on strained relationships with his family, especially his son, a stay-at-home dad with twin boys. It's a lovely story, and if you have a deep abiding love of little UK films like I do, definitely check it out. 

Last episode of Insomia is a Bitch Theater: Bret Michaels now "hosts" the new infomercial for Time-Life's "Hard & Heavy" CDs comprised of "152 of the hardest and heaviest hits from artists like Poison, Whitesnake, Alice Cooper, Heart, Kiss and many more!" Oh yeah, bang your heads to the hardest and heaviest Top 40 songs Time-Life would pony up cash to pay for licensing rights. But that's not all, it gets worse! The nine-CD set includes a disc of cheesy power ballads that made fourteen-year-old girls in 1989 swoon and/or roll their eyes (I'm here to testify, sad but true). But, wait, it gets even worse! The set also comes with an "exclusive" bonus DVD "Hard & Heavy Confidential with Bret Michaels" featuring  masterpieces that changed the world including "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" and "Something To Believe In," played live and acoustic in the Time-Life studio. With no audience. Just Bret with a camera crew. Because that's totally natural (as if, you need twenty skanks who didn't make the cut at the podunk Hooters and thirty cases of Bret Brew for it to be natural!). I don't know what my favorite part of the infomercial is: Bret playing his soulful tunes like he's rehearsing for Rock of Love 3: Team Syphilis vs. Team Gonorrhea; the co-hostesses trying not to ask him if he gets his hair extensions from India or Mattel; or the testimonials about how this unbelievably awesome CD-set truly rocks at parties thrown by white Midwesterners knocking on 40!

Last scripted TV show: Mad Men. Because I do love it, but it is the only new show on (until tonight--I've missed Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass). The second season seemed to start a little slowly but it matched the pace of Don's life, how it had changed as he tried to reform his bad hubby ways, so it felt necessary and natural. I geek out over character development and the writers manage to give each character in a very large cast dimension. What I truly adore about it is that just when you think you've figured out how one character ticks, you find out he/she actually tocks, which adds a startling dose of realism while maintaining creativity.

Last time I watched the finale of Generation Kill : That would be last night when the repeat of the final episode aired. Even though the final two were maybe my least favorite episodes of the series, it still owned me. (As did Jacob's recaps on TWoP, and GK ended just in time to get him back to analyzing the kids of the UES--I love recappers who make it worth reading even if you've seen the episode). It's the best description I have for David Simon's shows. And when I talk about geeking out over character development, well this show is a prime example. It may have been about First Recon's experience at the start of (the later named) Operation Iraqi Freedom, but it was truly about characters. First, let me say, I do realize that these stories are based on one reporter's perception, which has been through many filters, from article to book to screenplays, so everything may not be 100% accurate. But no tale is ever completely accurate based on someone's perception of events. Unless it was recorded and then just transcribed, it never will be. It's not like we watch John Adams and wonder where they found transcriptions of the conversation between Adams, Ben Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson about the draft of the Declaration of Independence. It's called writing. And creative license. Just stay as true to the story as possible, get fabulous technical advisors, and tell the tale. If it's wrong, folks will speak out. However, many say it's as close to the actual experience of being in Iraq as possible for a television show. So it's based in reality, and not in a James Frey "Well, maybe it wasn't a million little pieces" way, or the non-reality of the unreal lives portrayed on shows like The Hills. Anyway, I've read several blogs or recaps along the way and it seems difficult to relay what happened in some episodes and keep it interesting. Although not as stagnant and bored as those waiting-waiting-waiting in Jarhead,  these guys were often waiting for a mission, or on the way to their mission, or having their mission changed, etc. But this is where character development comes into play. This story wasn't just about the mission, it was about the men carrying it out, the men giving the orders, and the dynamic between them, how they coped, how they worked, how they lived. And when they are in the middle of a mission, it all clicks into place, even when it seems all is going to Hell fast. I found it truly fascinating and enthralling, and although there are characters who shined, I still liked watching the characters who pissed me off for being assholes, idiots, and cretans because it still felt very true. And seven episodes was the perfect length to tell this tale without characters outstaying their welcome and the impact of it being lessened. Is GK as good as HBO's previous war mini-series Band of Brothers? Yes, but the two are so different in terms of storytelling, purpose, intent, events, culture, and character, they really shouldn't be compared. It's not quite like comparing apples and oranges, more like an M1 Garand to an M16.

Last time I grumbled about GK's Alexander Skarsgård being in True Blood: That would be every time I see the promo. I was planning on catching the first episode of Alan Ball's new show because I have a love-hate relationship with Six Feet Under and I generally like vampire tales (nope, haven't read the books though). Even though reviews for the pilot are wretched. Even though it sounds like it wants to be campy but doesn't stretch enough to accomplish it. Even though Anna Paquin is supposed to have a Southern accent worse than Kyra Sedgwick's in The Closer. So, I didn't exactly have high hopes for it. But now, dammit-to-hell, they cast Alexander Skarsgard. Yes, he is oh-so-pretty, but his talent as an actor is what makes him magnetic, so damn watchable. He's Stellan Skarsgård's son, for Pete's sake. Remember my Paul Walker Principle? Pretty doesn't matter in the long run if there are no acting skills to back it up. Skarsgård sweats skills.

Last book: I just started the Generation Kill book. Since I had already read the articles, I waited until the show was complete. I actually have a couple books going, but that's the last added to my pile. How long it will take to finish, who knows? I still have Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince only half-read (but in my defense, I figured out with Azkaban that I prefer to read them a few months prior to the movie premiere, and, well, it looks like this one may be half-read for a while now).

Last magazine: This week's Entertainment Weekly. So predictable, I know. Eh it let's me bring up Michael Ausiello's blurb about the possibility of a Veronica Mars movie. Or Mars 2.0. Which is kind of a misnomer considering she was proudly Mars 2.0 in season one, going from Veronica the Sweet to Badass P.I. Veronica. Anyway, I'm divided about the idea of a movie. I loved the show, even though the intensity of my love faded with each season. I still adore season one, can handle season two until previous plot points were retconned or forgotten, which takes me to tolerating season three because I clung to the hope that maybe in the next episode those characters would stop acting out-of-character and the show would be the little Noir show it once longed to be. Oh, and would stop retconning important events from the first season. Grrrrr. Sigh. Grrrrr. So, the prospect for a movie still has me hoping it could be badass again but history tells me it might be otherwise. Doesn't matter, I'm a glutton, so I'll pay to see it even if it is crap. However, knowing that Rob Thomas wants to keep it in Neptune, with the same characters and the crime-solving on the Hearst campus, really does help (although at this pace, by the time it gets made, will the young 'uns still look like college students?). Because the VM:FBI pitch was painful to watch and did not resemble the spirit of the show. And the idea that Veronica would make it in the FBI, with her run-ins with the law, issues with authority, and problems following rules, regulations, and laws, felt very unrealistic to me. I like her better dealing with the seedy side of Southern California.

So, I never finished my upfront post. Yeah, it kind of seems irrelevant now. I am stoked about both Fringe and Dollhouse, but fear cancellation-happy Fox. Tired of hearing about 90210:The New Klass, the CW still seems to miss the mark, renewed One Tree Hill. Amazingly, ABC renewed According to Jim. CBS is trying to tempt me with Simon Baker and Rufus Sewell, but not sure I'm buying. And what happened to shunning the upfronts, Zucker? No mention for you, NBC. Um, how's that?

I haven't been really inspired to blog in the past few weeks. I usually don't get really personal here, but a few weeks ago, I found out my grandmother's "maintenance chemo" didn't do its job. Kind of the opposite, her cancer has spread big time, and since there aren't really any other options left, hospice has taken over. My grandfather has had health issues lately too. We've all been dealing with her illness (chemo, doctor's appointments, nursing home) for almost two years, so it's not like a surprise, still doesn't make it easier to accept. The strange thing is that I've since decided to actively try to be more optimistic about my life, which is not the reaction I expected. It's not easy for me, a lifelong pessimist, but I'm tired of wasting energy on negativity. Hopefully that will last longer than a week.

Anyway, I decided to do a little post about my entertainment lasts.

Last movie seen in a theater: Iron Man, my last Matinee Escape (that post has yet to be written). Robert Downey Jr. is the man. May my teenage crush on him never wane. And who knew Gwyneth Paltrow could be so animated and likeable? It's the first time I've enjoyed watching her in anything in a very long time. Maybe Sliding Doors?

Last movie seen on dvd: There Will Be Blood. Daniel Day Lewis, holy hell. And that scene with the fire? Sigh, I wish I had seen that on a big screen. It must have been an amazing project to work on. I also saw Dan in Real Life, suprisingly charming. Steve Carrell in funny, warm, depressed yet huggable mode. I like him best in smaller films, but hope he rocks Get Smart even though I'm starting to suffer Apatow burnout. And The Savages, which I related to a lot, found quite funny while still very honest and poignant without being depressing, but nursing home humor has a very select audience so it might not be quite as humorous to others. Finally saw Lars and the Real Girl. Heaven help me, my adoration of Ryan Gosling has no bounds.

Last movie watched on the cable: Serenity, but does it really count on the umpteenth viewing? Knocked Up. I found it hilarious in the theater, but less amusing on second watch. Didn't really help with my dislike of Jonah "JFH" Hill either. Just like FSM, I chuckled at only one of his lines. Did I ever post my little ghetto-photoshop of horrors where I put his face on the front of a talking urinal cake as an example of Superbad overpromotion? (long story) I'm still grumbling about 21 Jump Street: The Movie. For the love of Tom Hanson, please just don't. It's so very wrong.

Last movie watched on the pay-per-view: Juno. Liked it more the second time I saw it. Still have the impulse to bitchslap someone during the first fifteen minutes though. And I don't mean Ellen Page, although I didn't enjoy her as much on second viewing. I appreciated the supporting cast a lot more which I would say is strange, but the B-players are so damn strong. I'll follow JK Simmons anywhere. He and Allison Janney are so perfectly cast.

Last TV show watched:
Unscripted? Top Chef and I call bullshenanigans on it this week! Antonia packing her knives definitely feels like producer interference. You know, they don't want what happened on Project Runway, all that friendly competition in the finale, people respecting each other and being civil, if not supportive, no screaming or throwing insults (seen the recent "villain" promos for season four? Obvious much?). Must have someone play The Asshole! And Lisa shall rightfully claim that title. It should've been Dale, who admitted he was one but at least (usually) backed it up with skills in the kitchen. Lisa has been in the bottom so often, I can't believe she's still there. I should've known when Richard said early in the episode that he was surprised Lisa was in Puerto Rico. They love to try to give reality television a little foreshadowing with editing. At least Antonia got some good exposure for her new restaurant, and I hope she gets to have a little finale fun like Brian did last season. Oh, Top Chef, we've had a good thing so far, don't make me dump you.
 
As for a new episode of a scripted show, Greek. Have you tried it? Because it's much better than I expected. And I was a GDI at a college with an infamous greek system drenched in beer, old old old money, Jack Daniels, and archaic Southern traditions, in that order. Anyway, I caught a marathon after the first season and was charmed by it. I've seen ten minutes of a Wildfire, so my expectations were quite low. Sure, it's a little light, but fun and often funny, there are some excellent lines and good characters. It's just no fuss, enjoyable telly. Jed Seidel, a producer/writer during season one of Veronica Mars, is on staff now. And currently Max Greenfield, VM's Deputy Leo D'Amato, is guesting, as is Alan "Cameron Frye" Ruck this season, although my favorite was when Thomas Calabro, Melrose Place's Dr. Michael Mancini, showed up as Rebecca's lecherous senator father. Exxxxcellent.

Last TV finale watched: Dur, Lost. I still need to re-watch it though. If not their best season, definitely my favorite, I think. I am still too bitter about previous seasons. If I don't think about season two, then I don't start overthinking the writing again. I enjoy it most when I just let it be.

Last magazine read: Entertianment Weekly. Ooh, and I borrowed the latest copy Geek. Toy Fair! Did you know you can buy a replica Flux Capacitor? For $275. If I could go back to 1985's gas prices, though, it would be worth it. 

Last book read: How about currently reading? Heroin Diaries, Nikki Sixx's book chronicling the height of his heroin addiction while in Motley Crue. Mia loaned me her autographed copy (said since we've been friends since first grade she trusts me with it, yikes!) because she figured it would be good distraction reading. So far it's a twisted tale told by a junkie, full of sound and fury, and mania and depression, signifying, um, well, I haven't gotten to that part yet. Diary entries have additional comments from Nikki, his friends, and family members that offer current points of view and memories of that time. Those are pretty illuminating. I also like reading about the origins of songs on the Girls album. Their music was a huge part of the soundtrack to my early adolescence. And a book with a soundtrack? Nikki's such the businessman now, he's the Gene Simmons of Motley. The HD soundtrack is pretty solid if you dig that brand of hard rock.

Last song that randomly played on WMP: "Only Happy When it Rains" by Garbage. Which reminds me that Shirley Manson has been cast in the next season of The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Okay, so that's the only reason I mentioned what was playing. But that, my friends, is Bad. Ass. I mean, she's badass, and the show is badass, so unless her acting sucks ass, it could be a winning combo. 

Last time I made fun of Bret Michaels: It's actually been a few days. Which may be a new record for me. His new solo cd hit stores Tuesday which also happened to be my friend Stacy's birthday. So he just had to send her an e-mail, using my addy for some weird reason (I'm bored with e-cards), inviting her to listen to his meditative, soul searching, boner inducing lyrics over on VH1's site. Actually, if you skeedaddle over there, there's a video for "Go That Far," the song that is sampled for the Rock of Love theme. Yeah, that gem really needed to be stretched to three minutes. Oh, and he's "writing" a book. The true story of a boy who had nothin' but a dream and diabetus who grew into a man having nothin' but a good time while marching into middle age still wearing tons of makeup and bedazzled bandannas over his Barbie hair extensions.

So life has been kind of kerflooey. I have a few posts in progress that I hope to make public before they are pointless. Because of the kerflocity of my life, I decided last Friday afternoon that I needed a Matinée Escape (see my profile), aka an ME because it's all about me! When I require a Matinée Escape, there is no denying it, I must go to the cinema asap. Which is why I saw Forgetting Sarah Marshall on opening day. I started a review but I'm not in the mood right now to edit my rambling about why Jack McBrayer and Jonah Hill are unnecessary filler even though I do love me some Kenneth the Page (as for Jonah, well, my friends know I only refer to him as JFH and guess what the F stands for!). I will not comment yet on the abuse of The Rudd.

Anyway, I don't hate on Apatow flicks. Like that mysterious chocolate in the middle of a Whitman's sampler, I am usually surprised by how much I like the soft, chewy, possibly nougaty center. Unless it's coconut, or Talladega Nights. So it's not one of the greatest comedies of the decade (is Richard Roeper crushing on Jason Segel too?), but I really enjoyed it, a good movie experience. Quite simply, I love it but I am just not in love with it. Actually, it may be the other way around, visa versa that last statement. I will forever hold it in high regard, though, for the dinner conversation that included a meta joke about Sarah Marshall's murder-by-cell-phone movie. I laughed so hard my eyes began to tear when Kristen Bell gave her very same "metaphor for technology's role in modern life" song-and-dance from the Pulse press junkets. Now that was a crap ME.

It really was inevitable then that I drag out my Freaks and Geeks dvds this week. Apatow, Segel, Linda Cardellini's break up with Segel supposedly part of the Sarah Marshall composite. I couldn't stop myself from visiting Nick Andropolis, his infatuation with Lindsay, the humiliation of being dumped by her mother, and, of course, Lady L.

The Academy Awards. Overhyped. Boring. Self-indulgent. Pretty much the opposite of the Saturday's laid back Independent Spirit Awards. On top of that, 2007 was a year of lackluster cinema and the show was cobbled together in only a few post-strike weeks. Oh, Jon Stewart, may the gods of comedy be with you.

Come on, you know you're going to watch. If you don't, you can't bitch about how long they are, how much you disagree with the Academy's choices, how Bjork wore that damn swan dress because she's Bjork, so back off already and stop with the seven-year-old jokes. It's like voting: if you didn't vote, you can't gripe about that elected official. I used to see all Best Picture nominees for the same reason but not so much any more. This year I did see three out of five, though.

So to make things fun, I took Oscar Bébé to Target for a little retail photo shoot  My oldest friend Mia was the photographer with her new stealth camera phone (mine is old school and I didn't want to drag my Canon digital around) and I was the "photo stylist," posing him with objects related to the nominated flick. For some, easy peasey; for others (coughAtonementcough), it involved a little creativity.

Let's start with the two I haven't not yet seen . . .

Atonement
I just haven't been in the mood to pony up cash for a sweeping, epic kick in the heart, even for James McAvoy. For Oscar's picture, it wasn't easy to find anything that related to a British period piece at Target (I had even solicited ideas from friends who have seen it). But there was some Valentine's Day stuff left on a discount shelf. These puppies claim to "[mend] a broken heart."  Eh, works for me.

No Country For Old Men
No secret, I love the Coen brothers. I enjoy their offbeat comedies as much as their twisted dramas. I've had e-mail dialogue battles with their films (message back and forth until someone runs out of lines, it makes a dull work day fly by). This was my first choice for my Thanksgiving day escape. The acting was stupendous. The breathtaking scenery tugged at my heart, conjured memories of road trips through New Mexico on my way to visit my  family in southwest Colorado. I left the theater with more questions than answers, which isn't always a bad thing. Still think Woody Harrelson could be cut from the film without notice, but it gave us a few minutes of Stephen Root, so alright (Jimmy James fan? Check out this A.V. Club interview). It wasn't until a few weeks later when I was talking about it with Mia, an actress with a keen cinematic eye, that I realized something important. As much as I loved the movie at the time, it was kind of forgettable. Maybe it was my holiday headspace when I saw it, key aspects stand out, but many details were just forgotten. She even had to remind me of Llewelyn's white socks. So, although I think the film is beautifully shot, wonderfully acted, there is a flaw somewhere in its execution. I want to see it again to figure it out.

Juno
Ah, this year's indie darling that Oscar pats on the head to seem like the Academy understands viewers. I have mixed feelings about Juno. I found it to be utterly charming, even though the first fifteen minutes were excruciating. I repeatedly cringed and wanted to cite Diablo Cody and Jason Reitman for Rainn Wilson abuse. Those scenes felt like a caffiene-induced late-night writing session, typing away in the wee hours, one-liner after snappy one-liner, obscure pop-culture references, and it's all genius that will make you a quirky dialogue god. Then you read it a day, week, month later and realize the reins need to be yanked on your snarky muse, nobody naturally speaks like Lorelai Gilmore on crack for three pages straight, and what it provides in hilarity, it certainly lacks in heart. Anyway, as the movie began to settle, and the non-stop pop culture attack felt a little more organic, this little film began to shine brighter. For me, it just wasn't enough to be the film the hype has created. First and foremost, though, Ellen Page is sublime, pint-sized perfection, lovely and wry, prickly and vulnerable. The cast was a TV-geek's dream (Jennifer Garner surprised me with the depth she gave Vanessa, love J. K. Simmons, The Bateman, Michael Cera), a wealth of talent perfectly cast, possibly crafted to market to a key demo. The dialogue, although sometimes entertaining, usually provided an emotional disconnect from the story for me. Juno's tale had heart, but I didn't feel that it was always front and center. Finally, I can't get one random message board comment out of my head. The commenter suggested that he would like to compare an original draft of the screenplay and a shooting script because that would be incredibly telling about Cody's writing. If those pages were pretty much unchanged and the rest of the script had obviously been heavily revised, by a script doctor or just with expert guidance, then maybe Cody might want to consider picking up one of those screenwriting books that she shuns. I'm not a hater when it comes to this film. I just think it, well, it is what it is, nothing more or less, and shouldn't be made into something it isn't by the media machine. Geez, how ambiguous was that? Maybe I should be in politics. Oh, and there are shots of Oscar Bébé with a pregnancy test and Sunny D but the TicTacs, well, had a little heart.

Holy hot ham water, Steve Holt! Arrested Development Goes to the Cinema isn't just a sweet geek daydream fueling rumors on the wide world of webs. Jason Bateman confirmed that Mitch Hurwitz and Ron Howard have started "sniffing" around, placing calls to actors about taking the Bluth family to the big screen. I read a blurb about this over the weekend, but didn't get the chance to look into it until now (should've known Kristin Dos Santos would have it). First, there's positive news that the end of the WGA Strike is at least on the horizon. On top of that, a show I still mourn may get the Firefly feature treatment. Sigh, if only I could go to the Paley Festival, this chick would fly past cloud nine. I think it's time to fill the TV void with a dvd-trip to Sudden Valley.

"Now the story of a wealthy family who lost everything and the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together."

Happy Halloween!

I'm not superstitious. Creepy crawlies don't scare me. I hate rats but that's more of a vendetta than fear. I like horror flicks and they can put me on edge, but it takes a lot for one to make me scream at the screen. So what does get to me?

What creeps me out? Power Mullets. A few years ago, I saw an entire family of mullets. Mom, Dad, two boys, all with Hysteria-era Joe Elliot mullets. I heard them say something about waiting for Granny but I didn't stick around to see if she had a rattail.

What grosses me out? Candy Corn. It's rank. And don't even try to trick me with those cute little candy corn pumpkins. Shape shifting still doesn't make it tasty. It's just a bigger orange glob of gross.

What freaks me out? Mariah Carey's Hello Kitty bathroom. I actually have no words.

What gives me the heebie-jeebies? That I was right about Rock of Love 2. I still haven't shaken the nasty case of heebie-jeebies the first season gave me.

Here are some timekiller treats:

• Jump over to TV Squad to find out what's spooky on the small screen for Oct. 31.
•  Entertainment Weekly's Halloween section includes gore lists galore, an interview with John Carpenter, and a slide show of what movies freak out Exorcist director William Friedkin.
• Check out the A.V. Club's list of 23 Ridiculous Horror Movie Adversaries.
• Bravo's running the entire 100 Scariest Movie Moments countdown today.
  

The Four Word Film Review

In case you hadn't noticed, I can be a very wordy chick. Editing others, no problem; editing myself, oy. So I was intrigued by the idea of a film summed up in four little ol' words. I haven't spent a lot of time on the site, but I did check it out. Some are funny, some are spot on, some are a stretch, some are lame. But the idea of summarizing anything in four words kind of changes the way you look at things. Maybe I'll try it in my TV reviews. Hey, I could do it. Okay, no I couldn't. This wordy chick likes to bitch too much. Hee.

Danny Butterman: Ever fired your gun in the air and yelled, 'Aaaaaaah'?

So, I can prattle on about television shows, but summarizing and reviewing movies is not my strong suit. However, I want to get better at it and for Hot Fuzz, I'll give it a whirl.
 
Last Wednesday I went to see Hot Fuzz. Side note: why does it always seems so out-of-the-ordinary to see a movie mid-week? I guess because my cheap-ass usually prefers matinees, which means I end up smuggling in snacks to my favorite theater only on the weekends.

Anyway, Hot Fuzz is brilliant. This tribute to action films is about Sgt. Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg), a London super-cop transferred to the small village of Sandford because he keeps the city's streets so damn clean his fellow officers look like oafs. He takes his job so seriously he's even lost his love, Janine (Cate Blanchett in an uncredited cameo). Sandford was named the Model Village, virtually free of crime and filth, and the entire station is wary of Nick's big-city ways. The Inspector's son, Danny Butterman (Nick Frost), becomes Nick's partner, although he's more like a sidekick. Danny may learn a lot from Nick about being a police officer (not policeman), but Danny is an expert in beer and action movies, so Nick learns the beauty of a good pint after a hard day's work as well as how to properly scream while firing one's service weapon into the air. After several citizens in this sleepy little town die, Nick refuses to believe they are all just bizarre, gruesome accidents and begins to investigate.

Hot Fuzz is fast-paced and fun. You will laugh out loud. A lot. From the team of the hilarious zombie flick Shaun of the Dead, the writing is spot-on and fresh. The editing and sound is pitch perfect parody, but off-the-charts loud so take earplugs if you have sensitive ears and the theater cranks the volume to eleven. (Mine likes to simulate the experience of sitting directly in front of an amp at a Motley Crue show circa 1987.) There are taglines, explosions, steely gazes, and gunfights. Director and co-writer (with Pegg) Edgar Wright nailed the genre while drawing the audience to the characters and the story. Pegg and Frost are excellent as a buddy-duo again, and still manage to be different from their characters in Shaun. To call this film a parody is a disservice because it really does stand on its own. And I will probably see it again. Probably a matinee though.