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by Bill Gibron

5 Jun 2008


It’s been interesting to watch the youth-ification of martial arts. Sure, kids have always been the major market when it comes to karate lessons, video games, and other media oriented kung foolishness, but it seems slightly surreal that the under 10 set would be the primary demographic for such obviously adult aggression. Remember, for every lesson about loyalty and duty, there’s a series of roundhouse kicks and face-destroying punches provided. While it preaches an anti-antagonism stance, violence still sells these spectacles. It’s the same with the latest CGI effort from Dreamworks and Paramount. Entitled Kung Fu Panda, this candy coated compendium of cartoon idioms may look loveable, but it’s all about the butt kicking in the end.

Poor Po. He has a dream that, as a panda, he will probably never fulfill. Longing to imitate his heroes, the five masters of the main martial art styles (tiger, monkey, crane, mantis, and snake), he hopes to be a kung fu icon himself. Sadly, he seems stuck following in his father’s noodle vending footsteps. Then the Jade Temple announces the choosing of the newest Dragon Master, and Po is excited. He wants to see who gets the honor. In a bizarre turn of events, elder Oogway selects….our amiable overweight bear. This infuriates Shifu, teacher of the five masters. He must now prepare this pudgy ‘loser’ for the ultimate challenge - long exiled panther Tai Lung has escaped from prison, and is headed for a showdown with the newest handpicked hero.

If the Shaw Brothers had access to CGI and the post-modern voice talent, Kung Fu Panda would have definitely been part of their stable of wuxia epics. Glorious to look at and exhilarating to experience, this is the best that such genre-defying efforts have to offer. Far surpassing the pleasant but paltry visuals presented by such stale 3D showcases as Shrek and Ice Age, this combination of anime, action, and ancient Chinese scrollwork is captivating from the opening dream sequence. We also get clever character design, a true depth of field, and a phenomenal attention to detail. Then directors Mark Osborne and John Stevenson up the Asian ante, meticulously recreating the carefully choreographed fight scenes that make martial arts movies so addictive.

Indeed, Kung Fu Panda is a feast for the fanboy as well as the eyes. Immerse yourself long enough in these films and you start to see patterns - folklore forged into a viable entertainment. The Shaws, more than any other studio, followed these formulas to the letter. While no one expects authenticity from what is, by all accounts, a kiddie film, Panda provides enough archetypes to stand solidly alongside the category’s very best. Even better, it delves deep into the varying kung fu formats, allowing the characters named after certain fighting styles to effortlessly illustrate said forms. This means monkey boxes the way a student of said discipline would. The same applies to all the others, creating a real sense of respect and recognizability within the differing skill sets.

Of course, there are jokes for the wee ones as well. Lots of Kung Fu Panda‘s humor is of the physical shtick/fat guy variety. Po falls down a lot, and his girth causes him problems all along the way. There are gags about food, eating, and our hero’s uncontrollable appetite. When he’s not gorging on snacks, he’s falling down long flights of stairs. The standard issue crudities are also available (a blow to the crotch offers the exclamation “My tenders!”) with, luckily, none of the random pop culture referencing. Indeed, one of the best things about this movie is its desire to avoid type to traverse its own eclectic territory.

Speaking of the talent involved, all the voice work done on behalf of Kung Fu Panda is excellent. Jack Black does little more than channel his own chaotic yet huggable personality, and it works wonderfully. He’s very endearing as the portly Po. Equally amazing is Dustin Hoffman, refusing to fall into some manner of caricature. Instead, he makes Master Shifu appear real and authentic. Of the five main fighters, Angelina Jolie gets the most screen time as Tigress, though her character is quite irresponsible at times. Jackie Chan may be barely recognizable as Monkey (as is Seth Rogen as the miniature Mantis), but David Cross does a great job as Crane. His slightly sarcastic delivery plays perfectly to the post-adolescent crowd.

Yet the most memorable thing about Kung Fu Panda is its sumptuous look. It’s the main reason why the Shaws would gladly call it there own. There is a lavish quality to the illustrations, a real artistic aura that grows richer and more refined as the film moves along. The landscapes are breathtaking, the fights lightning quick without being too busy. Obsorne and Stevenson even deliver a memorable melee of their own, as when Po and Shifu fight, chopsticks in hand, over a plate of dumplings. It’s the kind of brawny ballet the genre is known for, and why Kung Fu Panda fits within it perfectly.

Certainly there is little drama in whether Po will defeat the evil Tai Lung, and the message about finding the truth outside the obvious is unsatisfactory in its blatancy. Yet Black and company are having so much fun, refusing to fall into self-parody or spoof, that we instantly forgive these minor flaws. In fact, by the time of the final send off, we happily celebrate the entire storyline. Kung Fu Panda is probably the biggest surprise of this already above-average Summer season. CGI loves to cannibalize itself in ways that undermine the inherent joy in the artform. This is the kind of film that completely reinvigorates your faith in the format.

by Bill Gibron

5 Jun 2008


It’s Thursday, and that means someone, somewhere, in the great big world of film criticism, is sitting on pins and deadline-breaking needles. It’s the one word that strikes fear into the heart of any respectable journalist. Deadline! In the old days, beat pounders would drum up sources, track down leads, build their clever and sometimes incendiary copy, and manage that last minute factual additions/subtractions, all before the boss bellowed for the presses. In the realm of film criticism, this meant that a newspaper or magazine scribe sat in a screening, developed his or her opinion, and put it down in black and white for cultural posterity to enjoy (or ignore).

Nowadays, thanks to a little thing we like to the call the Internet, deadlines no longer really matter. Granted, there are websites who pride themselves on a sense of editorial ethos and strive to keep fresh content available in a judicious and dependable manner. But in the blogsphere, a domain undaunted by the needs of standard publishing, information is metered out in a constant stream. There is no longer a need to offer up traditional availability. Whenever you think of something, or have an event/effort worth discussing, all that’s required is the time to post and a way to do so. And in the overly protective realm of movie marketing, studios are well aware of this.

At first, it was easy to handle the online community. It was more or less a case of “out of sight, out of consideration.” With print media making up the vast majority of those needing access to upcoming films, a wise representative simply didn’t invite the web writer to their press opportunities. Sure, the industrious ‘net critic would figure out how to attend a public showing or “word of mouth” advance, grabbing a free ticket and enjoying the experience as part of the rabble. But for the most part, if they weren’t a card-carrying member of the so-called ‘legitimate’ leg of the Fourth Estate, they were ignored.

Of course, money changes everything, and with financial considerations always key in any corporate dynamic, big businesses looking to cut costs did as many school districts do - they kept sports and other high end profit margins and slashed the arts. At present, a day doesn’t go by where a major newspaper or periodical doesn’t announce “buyouts” and layoffs. And many in the accountant’s sites are part of the film/TV/theater arena. Some will argue that it’s simply a matter of dollars and sense/cents. Others will point to the marginalized status of the critic (a discussion for another day) and simply sit back and count their savings.

Naturally, as a direct result of such belt-tightening, the online scribe has stepped up in import. Smart studios, recognizing completely free publicity when they see it, have started catering to the blogger and the webmaster. But without the principles that print sought so hard to protect, the inevitable backlash has begun. You see, most of us writing online do so for places that stress a sense of publishing ‘morals’. From checking facts to sustaining “style guides”, we mimic those who came before. But there are others more interested in scoops than scope, and so the long established rules get bent for the benefit of one, not all. And the studios have started to strike back.

Originally, a Thursday Night Screening was indicative of one thing - a piece of crap. A movie a company had little or no faith in would be offered up the day before it opened as a courtesy to the critic, but there were no expectations. Studios didn’t anticipate a review - at least not during the film’s first week run - and they understood that any take on their acknowledged bomb would be bad. It was a wink and a nod between professionals, a way of keeping the media happy while colluding to maintain the easily persuaded public’s gullibility to pay for junk. Sure, there were times when a proposed stinker actually became a sleeper, but for the most part, waiting until Thursday was just as bad as not screening a film at all.

All that changed, however, with the new ‘meta media’. With websters able to attend those last minute showings, the conspiratorial kibosh was countermanded. Remember, most studio previews today are open, public presentations in connection with radio station promotions, newsprint ad campaigns, and other pre-buzz marketing ploys. Embargoes mean nothing to someone not purposefully invited to follow them (meaning, not forced to comply with the old ways of the traditional media) and soon, Thursday evening reviews were available, whether Hollywood liked them or not. Extrapolate that backward, and we have the current system in place with sites like Ain’t It Cool News and Dark Horizons offering “first looks” at films that may not be opening for months.

Tinsel Town was, understandably, in a tizzy. The online community was already considered a pariah, with even the legitimate web critic cobbled together with the blogger and the news-groupies. Secretly, A-lists and B-lists were drawn up, and in a very sneaky manner, print personnel found themselves invited to clandestine screenings while the Internet was lied to, or just ignored. No matter their status as a member of a professional organization like the OFCS, they were kept out of the loop. Of course, that led to an even bigger counterattack by those on the ‘Net. Spies purposely tried to crash these confabs, defying bans and other restrictions to get the word out to their so-called readers.

Today, a kind of truce has been brokered. Studios understand the power of online publishing - and with it, the advertising possibilities - and with the death of print, they see no way of avoiding us former undesirables. But that doesn’t mean that they’ve given up. Not at all. Most marketers assume that human endurance guarantees a Thursday night screening will not equal a Thursday night review. So they continue to keep their marginal movies in such a state. Yet, oddly enough, some even drag out their big time blockbusters in such an unmanageable manner.

Take Disney, for example. Over the last few months, every one of their major releases - from The Game Plan and National Treasure 2 to this Summer’s Prince Caspian and the upcoming Wall*E - have been, or will be, screened on Thursday ONLY. That means that everyone from yours truly to the longstanding scribe for the Creative Loafing either sees the movie the night before, or not at all. Now, in the case of the first three films mentioned, such a strategy may seem like standard operating procedure. Those flailing fluffballs aren’t going to be around come awards time. But in the case of Pixar’s latest, early word has it pegged as a potential masterpiece.

Remember, none of this applies to the major markets. Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, etc. will all have Wall*E press days, with the House of Mouse courting favor with the long established critics. A few newbies will fall into the mix, but for the most part, it will be Uncle Walt’s way, and not the information superhighway. Smaller media outlets - like Tampa - will be treated to a ‘like it or lump it’ public sneak, and that’s it. The reps have even warned us; get there early or there may not be a seat. One could argue that Disney is just responding to the notion that audiences no longer listen to critics, that their supposedly learned opinion is passé and unimportant. But to avoid potentially GOOD publicity for your film (just look at Ratatouille) seems counterproductive.

And you know there are writers who take every opportunity to strike back at such strategies. Locally, one of our more important papers ran a piece about Disney’s embargo on reviews of last year’s Oscar winning rat restaurateur. It wasn’t a review, just a mention that as much as he liked/disliked the movie, he couldn’t write about it until after his deadline. ZAP - he has now been blackballed. It’s been a year, and he has yet to receive another screening invite from the studio…and he’s a print journalist, someone the studios still cater to.

Of course, the movie makes the argument. No one is decrying the ‘night before’ acknowledgement of Rob Zombie’s Halloween, or James Wan’s Death Sentence, and some, like those involved in the Saw franchise, simply avoid a screening all together, knowing they can’t win against a community prejudiced against horror. But as the online realm slowly consumes the long standing traditions of its fish-wrap predecessors, studios seem set on making everyone’s life as untenable as possible.

This means that, in a couple of weeks, I will be anxiously awaiting my chance to see the latest CGI epic about an amiable automaton interacting with a similarly styled alien species - and then come home and try to come up with something salient to say as quickly as possible. No matter how good, or groan-inducing it turns out to be, readers do turn to sites like PopMatters to gauge their interest in what, at this time of year, is a weekly onslaught of popcorn product. As long as they feel it maintains some manner of commercial control, studios seem willing to wait until the night before to unleash their latest offering. It threatens to become more and more common. Unfortunately, it seems antithetical to what either side is trying to accomplish.

by Bill Gibron

4 Jun 2008


The old adage that actors want to be rock stars (and visa versa) has produced some equally clichéd results. No one is championing the cringe inducing drunkness of Bruce Willis’ lame ‘Bruno’ alter ego, nor are the Blues Brothers well-placed in their genre defying (or desecrating) dopiness. There have been some successful crossovers - at least to fans of Jared Leto - but for the most part, such efforts are seen as the product of pure and unapologetic vanity. And without a thriving ‘musical’ movement to keep the vocally astute performer happy - or employed - we will probably see more of these medium-traversing mash-ups. 

The latest entry in the star as chanteuse dynamic is Scarlett Johansson. Frequently voted one of the most beautiful young actresses working today, the starlet has quite the resume. From a small part in the notorious Rob Reiner bomb North, to her recent successes in efforts like Lost in Translation, The Girl in the Pearl Necklace and The Prestige, at 23 she’s considered a burgeoning superstar. While she gets glowing critical notices, some can’t get past her basic blond aura (and accompanying curvaceousness).

So the question of her cutting a record might seem ridiculous, until you do a little research. As a graduate of the Professional Children’s School in Manhattan, Johansson had a fair amount of training. She was even considered for the role of Maria in the recent UK revival of The Sound of Music. She appeared on the compilation Unexpected Dreams – Songs from the Stars (singing “Summertime”) and even added back-up for an unexpected Jesus and Mary Chain reunion at Coachella 2007.

Yet no one could have expected Johansson to head off to Maurice Louisiana, hook up with a ragtag group of marginal to mainstream musicians, and cut a collection of Tom Waits covers. Any one of those factual statements sound suspicious at best, specious at the very worst. It’s the oddest sonic amalgamations since Soft Cell’s Marc Almond recorded an entire collection of Russian romance ballads. Yet when viewed outside of the entire movie star/surreal subtext argument, Anywhere I Lay My Head is actually pretty great.

The album starts off, oddly enough, with an instrumental. “Fawn”, derived from Waits’ 2002 work Alice, sets the mood of what’s to come effortlessly, the 12 piece combo creating a noise that’s both melancholy and mad. Highly reminiscent of David Lynch’s sonic statements, there’s a real calm before the storm quality to the aural backdrop. Yet when you consider the subtext here - the track was written for a stage play version of Alice in Wonderland, the appropriateness for what Johansson is aiming for is clear (even the cover art seems symbolic). We’re about to go down the rabbit hole with the heretofore unknown diva, and anything can happen.

“Town With No Cheer” begins the entire Dietrich dilemma. If Johansson has a vocal muse, a personality she filters her fragile yet throaty lilt through, it’s the magnificent Marlene. Though the setting sounds suspiciously like an outtake from Julee Cruise’s catalog, our star sells Waits’ words (from Swordfishtrombones) in a clipped European call. It’s a style she will revisit often throughout the course of these songs. “Falling Down” draws on the actress’s openness and fresh faced allure, especially when matched against David Bowie’s bravura backing vocals and Sean Antanaitis’ banjo. It’s the closest the album comes to mimicking a certain genre or type - call it countried folk.

Rain Dogs is represented next, and the organ-heavy title track to this collection comes across as a solid statement of defiance. Waits’ lyrics, reflecting the inner strength of someone struggling against the traumas of life, fit the actress naturally. So do the rambling travelers blues of “Fannin Road”. Bowie returns to add his own ephemeral grace, his well honed pipes producing a nice contrast to Johansson’s more mercurial tones. With its drone like instrumentation and air of uncertainty, it’s a fine musical moment.

Next up is Anywhere I Lay My Head‘s sole original, a track written by Johansson and project guiding light David Andrew Sitek (from indie rockers TV on the Radio). Named for the actress, “Song for Jo” struggles against the might of Waits’ work. But with its fancy flute trills and distorted thunder guitars, it embraces the implied drama present in the rest of the recording. Things wander directly back into Waits’ aesthetic with “Green Grass”. Its clunky percussion and off time tendencies definitely doesn’t offer the sincerest form of flattery. Yet when a similarly ambient take on Alice‘s “No One Knows I’m Gone” shows up, the gentle guitar wash and machine beats provide a wonderfully weird setting. Here, Johansson’s tiny timber works to her - and the material’s - advantage.

If the album has a pure genius stroke, it’s the reimagining of Small Change‘s “I Wish I Was in New Orleans” as a sad, salutatory lullaby. Composed in 1976, the current post-Katrina aura infuses Johansson’s pretty picture pouting with all manner of meaning. Such a strategic switch-up doesn’t quite work for the synthpop silliness of “I Don’t Want to Grow Up”. The Bone Machine effort, flawlessly covered by the Ramones after Waits’ own semi-successful interpretation, barely survives the Samantha Fox teen queen revamp. Johansson’s reading of Machine‘s other contribution, “Who Are You” comes off much better. Sitek’s vocals add a nice maturity, complementing the lead lines effortlessly.

Overall, one has to give this actress credit. She didn’t need to take such strategically difficult sonic subject matter and threaten her promising reputation over it. In interviews, she’s claimed a legitimate fear of what Waits would think, and while reports indicate he’s been very “supportive” and “quite pleased” with the results, a direct comment from the man has yet to arrive. It may not be the kind of support Johansson is looking for, in the long run.

Sometimes, it’s better when an artist can stand on their own, outside the sphere of influence created by their creative mentor. In this case, Anywhere I Lay My Head stands solidly outside what Tom Waits managed with this always engaging material. Scarlett Johansson may not have a future as a rock star, but there’s nothing to be embarrassed about here - unless you consider the frequent riches this LP contains.

by Bill Gibron

3 Jun 2008


Don’t let anyone tell you differently - cinema is cyclical. Ever since the initial barrage of old school Hollywood studio glitter, films (and their maverick makers) have been finding a way to rebel, and then revolt against said aesthetic uprising over and over again. Fantasy like fiction gave way to neo-realism, while the old techniques of static shots and journeymen direction mandated a whole ‘New Wave’ of experimentation. All throughout the ‘70s, French filmmaking was going through its own post-modern movement. Movies focused on the problems of real people, presented in a manner that accurately - and often uncomfortably - mimicked life.

In 1981, first time filmmaker Jean-Jacques Beineix decided to radicalize his approach to the medium. Drawing on deliberate artificiality - and a novel by Daniel Odier (under the pseudonym Delacorta - Diva was the result. It gained instant worldwide acclaim, and even managed to become a certified cult hit in America. It announced a new approach in French cinema, labeled Cinema du look, and introduced the talents of Beineix, Luc Besson, and Leos Carax. While some saw a thread of political relevance inside the style - the subject matter usually centered on the disillusioned youth of the era - many felt this new form was more flash than finesse.

Oddly enough, it was a similar argument used against the burgeoning US independents of the mid ‘90s. Wunderkind directors like Quentin Tarantino, David Fincher, and Darren Aronofsky were considered brilliant visionaries whose efforts carried a gloss of uneasy emotional detachment - again, all technique and no import. Yet their influence guided cinema for the next decade, swaying many who felt that film needed a swift kick in the creativity to remain vital. After getting his start in the art video circuit, Canadian filmmaker Francois Girard applied his passion for classical music toward an intriguing biography of a legendary pianist. His 1993 opus 32 Short Films About Glen Gould brought instant notoriety, its unusual conceit reflecting this newfound desire to reinvent the form of cinema. Five year later, critics would complain about his vignette heavy time trip, The Red Violin.

Thanks to Lionsgate, who is introducing a new line of important DVDs under the “Meridian Collection” tag, we get a chance to revisit both films to see if their particular era-oriented vision still holds up over the decades. In the case of Beineix, Diva still derives a great deal of its pizzazz out of elements that now seem sort of dated. When one thinks about camera trickery and directorial flare, a film like this instantly comes to mind. On the other hand, The Red Violin is like a lush lesson in ephemeral emptiness. There are times when the movie seems so lightweight and puffy that you wait for it to simply vanish into the ether and disappear from the screen. This does not mean they are bad films - far from it. But in a format friendly dynamic that gives even the most unsung work a chance to shine, both Diva and The Red Violin have been bypassed by other, more daring deconstructions.

As a starting point for all this filmic flare, Diva has one of the more straightforward stories. A young mail courier named Jules (Frédéric Andréi) enjoys his pseudo-slacker life on the fringes. He particularly loves opera, and the vocal work of American soprano Cynthia Hawkins (Wilhelmenia Wiggins Fernandez). So taken is he with the ‘diva’, that he makes an illegal recording of a recent recital. Somehow, his tape gets mixed up with that of a recent police sting, and the mobsters at the center want all evidence eliminated - including Jules. Thus begins an extended chase with both police and criminals after our hapless hero.

The Red Violin, on the other hand, takes the Glenn Gould approach to narrative, using the title instrument as a thread linking several divergent storylines. When a rare example of a ‘Bussotti’ is auctioned off, flashbacks fill in the gaps in the item’s history. We see the creator perfecting his creation, watch as it finds its way into the hands of a child prodigy, and witness its part in China’s Cultural Revolution. In between, there are stop offs with noblemen, nonentities, and a particularly intense historian (Samuel L. Jackson). Not surprisingly, the delicate object has one final secret to reveal.

One of the great things about the digital format remains the ability for filmmakers to defend their work. Sometimes, the most difficult offerings have the easiest of explanations. That is clearly the case with both Diva and The Red Violin. On the Lionsgate DVDs, both Jean-Jacques Beineix (in a scene specific overview) and Francois Girard (a full length discussion with co-writer Don McKellar) are present to contextualize their craft. Of the two, the latter is far more informative. Beineix is all shot selection and memories, not so much a defense of his highly ostentatious outing as it is a primer of possibilities. Girard is more forgiving. He underscores his motives, making sure listeners understand the allusions and mythos he was employing.

Even better, we get added material that makes both films feel less calculated and more manageable. Beineix’s baby draws on a wonderful documentary revisit entitled “Searching for Diva”. In it, cast and crew expand our knowledge of the movie while making clear how much of the style was purposefully premeditated. Violin relies on more indirect guidance. One short piece outlines the auction of a rare “Red Mendelssohn” Stradivari (clearly an inspiration for the film), while another allows the Oscar winning composer of the sensational score - John Corigliano - to discuss the movie’s main theme. Certainly, obsessives will wonder why there isn’t more material here. Yet Lionsgate gives each disc just enough heft to warrant a reissue. Besides, the newly remastered transfers look terrific.

This doesn’t address each movie from a critical standpoint, however, and this is where both Diva and The Red Violin suffer, if ever so slightly. For the earlier effort, the passage of almost three decades has been almost deadly. What was fresh and reinvigorating then is now harshly kitschy and borderline camp. This doesn’t take away from Beineix’s way with an action scene - the motorcycle chase through the Paris streets is still exciting, it’s jump cut skill reinvigorating the then dying action element. Yet some of the moments where characters mope about in pre-Goth gloom, or worse, run around like refugees from a camp revival of A Clockwork Orange, come across as cheesy as an Adam Ant video. Diva still delivers a great deal of pleasure within its now noticeable knottiness, and the performances are excellent and quite accomplished. Yet this is the kind of experience that makes one wonder how current cinematic turning points (CGI, the ‘found footage’ first person POV genre jolts) will play 30 years from now. 

If The Red Violin is any indication, style doesn’t always need substance to succeed. In fact, sumptuousness can trump depth with a carefully constructed composition. The broad scope of Girard’s canvas - he moves through the centuries as effortlessly as a virtuoso’s fingers along the frets - definitely allows for a more hit or miss approach, but here the director delivers more times than he fails. The material centering on the child prodigy is highly engaging, as are the moments in Communist China. Jackson’s story may seem the weakest, but watching the actor outside his element (we keep waiting for him to break out into a string of venomous epithets) and underplaying his part is highly entertaining. There are those who’ve complained that Violin violates the whole ‘image over import’ ideal. Sadly, they seem to be missing many of the movie’s more noticeable attributes.

Indeed, it’s easy to dismiss either film for what it offers visually vs. how it plays as a thriller or a detailed drama. Diva can never shake its Cinema du look logistics, but ignoring the calculated bells and whistles, it is still a satisfying experience. So what if The Red Violin appears deeper, and less deliberate. There is still enough visual privilege to make those inclined to criticize apoplectic. Just remember that this is all part of film’s recurring reboot and all your concerns will be calmed. Diva and The Red Violin definitely deserve continued recognition, and Lionsgate Meridian Collection is a perfect way of preserving them for future debate/consideration. And there will be a great deal of both.

by Bill Gibron

2 Jun 2008


Coens Get the Red Band Treatment
The trailer for Burn After Reading, the latest film from the Academy Award winning duo of Joel and Ethan Coen, got the restrictive “Red Band” treatment this week. This means that the preview is not appropriate for all audiences, as the standard MPAA “Green Band” adverts allow. You can find it on Apple’s main page, or by following this link


Hamlet 2 Also Gets the Crimson Call
The comedy smash of the 2008 Sundance Film Festival (set for release this August), centering on a failed actor-turned-worse-high-school-drama teacher (Steve Coogan) as he rallies his Tucson, AZ students and stages a politically incorrect musical sequel to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, also gets the R-rated distinction. Click on over to the official site to see it.


Gore Goes Opera - from the AP
With Summer here and global warming on everyone’s mind (especially in those areas prone to hurricanes) we learn that Al Gore’s Oscar (and Nobel) winning, An Inconvenient Truth is going to be made into a opera. You can read about the aria-based revamp here
 

Brooks Closes (and the Reopens His) Production Company - from New York Post
Similar to those old jokes about the rumors of someone’s death being greatly exaggerated comes word that the story last week about Mel Brooks closing his long running BrooksFilms Production Company appears to be false. The New York Post‘s Page Six ran this story indicating that the cinematic shingle responsible for David Lynch’s Elephant Man and David Cronenberg’s The Fly, among others, was shutting down. Now Brooks is setting the record straight via The Hollywood Reporter.


Dawn Goes Back to Where It All Happened - Literally
As part of their ever popular Rolling Roadshow, Austin, Texas’ Alamo Drafthouse will be offering a screening of George A. Romero’s 1978 horror masterpiece - Dawn of the Dead - in the Monroeville Mall. That’s right, after the facility closes on 21 June, 500 lucky fans can now actually see the classic creepshow in the actual suburban Pittsburgh location where it was filmed. All proceeds will be donated to the Make-a-Wish Foundation! Toe Tag Pictures will be doing zombie make-up on guests all day leading up to the screening to help make this evening all the more memorable, as over ten Dawn alumni will be on-hand during the screening to ensure the night’s authenticity. More information can be found at this link

Porno Gets a Teaser
Kevin Smith’s latest, the quick sale comedy Zack and Miri Make a Porno, got its own kind of teaser this week at the director’s Quick Stop Entertainment site - check the “not appropriate for work” sneak here.
 



House of Mouse Branches Into Comics
From the official press release:
The Walt Disney Studios has signed a multi-year deal with Ahmet Zappa, Harris Katleman and Christian Beranek to oversee the newly christened Kingdom Comics, an innovative new venture of developing graphic novels to create new film projects for the Studio as well as re-imagining and rejuvenating motion pictures from the Disney live-action Vault, it was announced today by Oren Aviv, president, Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures Production.

Kingdom Comics will soon announce some of the top graphic novelists and artists in the genre who will collaborate on upcoming projects.  Disney Publishing Worldwide, the largest distributor of comic books in the world, will have the first opportunity to distribute publications created by Kingdom Comics.


Obituaries:

Sydney Pollack (1934 - 2008): Read the SE&L Obit Here


Harvey Korman (1927 - 2008): Read the SE&L Obit Here
 

DVD releases of Note for 3 June

Heroes of the East: Read the SE&L Review Here
Come Drink with Me: Read the SE&L Review Here
Control: Read the SE&L Review Here
The Red Violin: Read the SE&L Review Here
Diva: Read the SE&L Review Here
Semi-Pro: Read the SE&L Theatrical Review Here
The Eye
Meet the Spartans


Box Office Figures for Weekend of 30 May

#1 - Sex and the City: $56.1 million
#2 - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: $45.8 million
#3 - The Strangers: $20.6 million
#4 - Iron Man: $13.9 million
#5 - The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian: $13.1 million
#6 - What Happens in Vegas: $6.9 million
#7 - Baby Mama: $2.2 million
#8 - Speed Racer: $2.1 million
#9 - Made of Honor: $2.0 million
#10 - Forgetting Sarah Marshall: $1.0 million


Films Opening This Week:

General Release:
Kung Fu Panda - Jack Black stars as a bumbling bear that dreams of being a martial arts master. Rated PG
You Don’t Mess with the Zohan - Adam Sandler is an Israeli Anti-Terrorist Agent who fakes his death to move to the US and become… a hairdresser. Rated R

Limited
Mongol - Oscar nominated story of Genghis Khan, as told through the eyes of his wife. Rated R
The Promotion - two managers vie for a coveted position at their job. Rated R
When Did You Last See Your Father? - with his parent dying, a distant son tries to resolve his conflicting emotions. Rated PG-13

//Mixed media
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