William Powell stars in My Man Godfrey as a Depression-era derelict who is hired to butler (“buttle”?) for a rich family. Screwball comedy ensues. Carole Lombard, Powell’s real-life ex-wife at the time, co-stars in this delightful 1936 film. I’m inserting links to both Google and YouTube because the picture quality seems to vary. Click here for Google’s version, or click here for YouTube.
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by Jason Zinoman
If you are a horror-movie fan, and I am certainly one of them, Zinoman’s biography of the men behind Hollywood’s second “golden age” of horror, the 1970s, is an essential read. Shock Value is a nice blend of explaining what makes guys like Wes Craven and George Romero tick – and how those ticks show up in their movies. But I’m sure every fright-flick aficionado will have nitpicks with Zinoman’s critique, and so here are two of mine: Zinoman points out that most of these directors flamed out after initial success, but he doesn’t offer much of an explanation for why that happened. William Friedkin (The Exorcist), Tobe Hooper (The Texas Chain Saw Massacre), Romero (Night of the Living Dead) … what the hell happened to these guys?
My other complaint is more subjective. I happen to believe that Bob Clark’s Black Christmas was the most terrifying movie of the decade, and that John Carpenter (who, incidentally, comes off as a Grade-A jerk in this book) shamelessly stole concepts and techniques from that movie to use in his blockbuster Halloween. Zinoman touches on this directorial “borrowing,” but inexcusably devotes little text to Clark’s woefully underappreciated, eerie masterpiece.
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Ugly Politicians Edition
But first …
Idiot of the Week: Dr. Sanjay Gupta
This clown masquerading as a journalist doesn’t know whereof he speaks when it comes to headaches. Reporting on Michele Bachmann’s migraines, Gupta told the world that migraine headaches can be “easily treated,” and then doled out bogus information about the duration and causes of these killer headaches.
Speaking as someone who suffered from migraines for ten years, let me assure Gupta that they are definitely not “easily treated.” Nothing works — at least not for cluster migraines, the variety I was lucky enough to have.
Idiot of the Week Runner-Up: Some clueless joker named Dr. Marc Siegel, who echoed Gupta’s bullshit: “Migraines are very easily treatable,” Siegel said, causing me to almost suffer a relapse.
*****
Politicians are movie-star wannabes who are just too damn ugly for Hollywood. They have movie-star egos but are not photogenic. So these cosmetically challenged egotists go into politics, where the rest of us have no choice but to keep an eye on them, lest they destroy the nation.
Only in the political world could pasty-faced, chubby Bill Clinton be described as sexy. Only in politics could scrawny, hook-nosed Caroline Kennedy (and her mother, Jacqueline) be hailed as “glamorous.” Michelle Obama is anointed “the new Jackie Kennedy,” but our First Lady is horse-faced and has hips as wide as Kenya. Our charismatic current president has ears like Alfred E. Neuman’s.
As for Republicans, just two words: Newt Gingrich. The GOP beauty bar is so low that geeky-looking Paul Ryan is considered a “stud.” Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann are “babes.” Yeah, move over Angelina and Megan, these middle-aged mothers want to use your mirror.
Herewith, a gallery of hideous politicians:
Al Franken: The picture speaks for itself.
The glamorous Kennedys: Hard to say which picture is sexier, Caroline bathing in blue (see above), or mom Jackie in the buff (below).
MILF Sarah Palin.
Chris Christie will beat you up … if only he could run fast enough to catch you.
Expensive gifts from Tiffany’s? Nah, Newt’s wife was obviously attracted to his rugged good looks.
Mitch McConnell, making John Boehner’s eyes water.
Above, Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie in an outtake from The Tourist? Perhaps not.
Carla Bruni needn’t feel threatened.
Donald Trump: No comment.
Henry Waxman, above, wants to ban my cigarettes. I want to ban Henry Waxman.
Well … maybe someone Photoshopped this one. Or maybe she is having a migraine.
*****
Now we know of (another) reason why rich old farts get trophy wives. Geezers like Rupert Murdoch are too feeble to defend themselves, but their much-younger wives can sometimes throw a nasty hook. Or was this incident staged to throw sympathy at scandal-ridden Murdoch?
*****
Norwegians — even their terrorists are good-looking.
*****
This column by the New York Times’s Frank Bruni is a great piece of social observation.
*****
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Seeing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 isn’t like watching a movie; it’s like watching eight of them. The Potter franchise carries so much baggage – good and bad, but mostly good – that when you finally get to the end, it’s impossible to see the denouement as simply a two-hour entertainment.
So how does the grand finale stack up? It was better than I suspected it might be. Director David Yates, who somehow managed to remove much of the fun and magic of J.K. Rowling’s saga from the preceding three Potter films, partly redeems himself in this last chapter. The whimsy of Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets is still missing, but Yates sets a brisk pace, avoids sentimentality, and stages one hell of an assault on Hogwarts.
What tripped up last year’s Part 1 is the same kind of thing that occasionally bogs down Rowling’s novels: tedious exposition. If the books have a flaw, it’s Rowling’s obsession with silly plot points. Who really cares about the history of the Horcrux? In this last movie, Yates and longtime scenarist Steve Kloves largely dispense with Rowling’s back story, instead concentrating on the final battle between Harry and Lord Voldemort.
Normally, I rail against the over-reliance on special effects in action movies; computer graphics all too often are the movie. But in Part 2, the lengthy, elaborate confrontation between the forces of evil and our Hogwartian heroes is visually stunning.
Longtime friends are killed, long-anticipated kisses are played out in the blink of an eye, and a movie I feared might be one drawn-out yawn is instead a satisfying wrap-up to an uneven but often enchanting film series. To paraphrase someone famous, “All ends well.” Grade: B+
Director: David Yates Cast: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Ralph Fiennes, Michael Gambon, Alan Rickman, Evanna Lynch, Helena Bonham Carter, Clemence Poesy, John Hurt Release: 2011
Watch Trailers and Clips (click here)
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Here’s another classic movie that I haven’t seen – but you should watch it. You should also brush your teeth three times a day, donate to charity, and be nice to your dog. But seriously … Cinema Paradiso, winner of the 1989 Oscar for best foreign film, sounds like a real charmer. I plan to watch it soon. You can watch it now by clicking here.
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by Janet Evanovich
More of the same from the Evanovich moneymaking machine that is the Stephanie Plum series. There are some very funny bits involving the goofball “Mooner,” but otherwise this entry is interchangeable with the 15th book, or the 14th, or the 13th ….
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Say it ain’t so! Bad news for fans of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum books: Debbie Reynolds has been cast to play Grandma Mazur in the film version of One for the Money, the first novel in the series.
Nothing against Reynolds, but I’ve always pictured Grandma Mazur as a spindly, geriatric dynamo, much like “Granny” in the old Playboy cartoons (above). Reynolds (below) looks like a well-fed, glamorous movie star — because that’s what she is.
Also, the former Mrs. Eddie Fisher annoys me. She spends too much time on talk shows either upstaging daughter Carrie Fisher or denigrating her deceased ex, Eddie. Not classy.
*****
I love Netflix. It was great to get unlimited DVDs and streaming video for ten bucks a month. But man … a sixty percent price increase? That reeks of a company thinking, “We dominate the market, so we can squeeze the hell out of our customers.”
*****
Fox News carries on its tradition of “fair and balanced” programming by pitting one lonely liberal (Bob Beckel) against four conservatives on the new talk show, The Five.
Fox used to do this on Hannity & Colmes, booking conservative guests so that they and Hannity could gang up on Colmes. Apparently even one liberal was one too many for that show, which eventually dumped Colmes.
I hate to admit it, but The Five’s hook-nosed Andrea Tantaros is sexy, in a bitchy, chubby-thighed sort of way. Tantaros instills an urge in me to buy duct tape, handcuffs, and a paddle — just for play, mind you. Co-host Greg Gutfeld is funnier on his other Fox show, Red Eye, than he is on The Five, where he comes off as a narcissistic little turd. Bush press secretary Dana Perino does her best heartless mannequin/Stepford wife impersonation, and the fifth guy on the panel … who is he?
If The Five catches on, it will be thanks to the opposites-detract interplay of Beckel and Gutfeld. That and the gams of whichever female is seated in the “legs chair.”
*****
Speaking of “fair and balanced,” Fox News has been all over the Rupert Murdoch scandal, hasn’t it? (You too, Piers Morgan.)
*****
Just when you thought the news was all bad, something comes along to make Butt Men rejoice:
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I smiled a lot during Annie Hall, but I never really laughed. I liked the main characters, New York comedian Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) and Midwestern transplant Annie Hall (Diane Keaton), and they kept me amused, but when the two lovers eventually broke up, I can’t say that I was particularly sad (or surprised).
I suspect that the more you personally relate to Allen’s autobiographical Alvy – i.e., you are a) a New Yorker; b) Jewish; c) nerdish; d) intellectual; or e) a neurotic artist-type – the more you’ll enjoy his signature film.
Alvy is the kind of guy who is entertaining in small doses, but a complete headache for any prolonged period of time. This is what Annie eventually comes to realize, but not until after she endures a rocky relationship that comes under the psychoanalytic microscope of professional shrinks and – incessantly – Alvy himself.
Keaton is adorably quirky in the title role, but the movie should really have been called Alvy Singer. Annie is on hand to serve as a sounding board for Alvy’s constant ruminations. He has choice barbs for Los Angeles, the Midwest, pseudo-intellectuals, love, sex, and fame. His best pokes come when he’s deflating pompous, left-wing intelligentsia.
But I didn’t blame Annie for wanting to escape. There’s not a whole lot of emotional sustenance to be gotten from a neurotic know-it-all, and this odd couple was mismatched from the start. Alvy/Woody amused me for the film’s 94-minute duration but, like Annie, eventually I felt that enough was enough. Grade: B
Director: Woody Allen Cast: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Tony Roberts, Carol Kane, Paul Simon, Shelley Duvall, Janet Margolin, Colleen Dewhurst, Christopher Walken Release: 1977
Watch the Trailer (click here)
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No, this story has nothing to do with Quentin Tarantino’s alleged foot fetish. And no, I have not seen it, myself. But you should watch it because it has a perfect, 100-percent “fresh” rating from critics at rottentomatoes.com. It’s the true story of a man afflicted with cerebral palsy, and it snagged a Best Actor Oscar for Daniel Day-Lewis. If you like it let me know, and maybe I’ll watch it, too. Click here to watch it for free.
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I didn’t pay much attention to the Casey Anthony trial until this past week, but holy hot-tubs, this courtroom drama is making the O.J. Simpson trial look like a routine episode of Judge Judy. It’s going to make one helluva book and movie.
Winners and Losers:
No winners. Not even Casey. O.J. managed to avoid the wrath of an angry public after his acquittal, so Anthony should, too. But what kind of life will she lead? I predict one of two futures for her: a one-way ticket to a foreign country, or more infamy in the world of porn.
Losers: Cable’s HLN. What an embarrassment of unprofessional, whining babies. When the Not Guilty verdict was announced, HLN’s assortment of anchors, lawyers, and other fools reacted as if they’d been kneed in the collective crotch. These TV “experts” did not sit on the jury, yet five minutes before the verdict they felt qualified to assure the nation that Anthony would be found guilty. Five minutes after the verdict they assured the nation that they could explain exactly what had gone wrong.
Worst Offenders: HLN’s Mike Galanos, Jane Velez-Mitchell, and Nancy (dis)Grace. Honorable Mention goes to Fox resident egomaniac Bill O’Reilly who, after admitting to paying scant attention to the trial, stated unequivocally that he knew what really went down, and that the jury was composed of fools.
This is what I learned from the trial:
And finally, no one knows who fathered Caylee Anthony. Is it any wonder that the jury found reasonable doubt?
*****
Thank goodness we have another kind of “reality TV,” the kind that actually makes sense. I am referring, of course, to the new season of CBS’s Big Brother. There is much suspense to be found in the fake backyard of the BB set: What will happen if the houseguests run out of cigarettes? Who will be the next houseguest “accidentally” caught undressing by the CBS cameras?
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