SALTY'S TOP TEN FAVORITE REVIEWS OF '07

Mike Nichols' film, "Charlie Wilson's War," was released, as was murder-musical extravaganza "Sweeney Todd," on December 21st. And "The Great Debaters" had a December 25th release. But, this year, the winner of the coveted Best Picture Oscar will be... "There Will Be Blood," released on December 26th. As I write this, the closing credits of its first showing are still rolling and won't end until the second chorus of Auld Lang Syne. In Hollywood, that's what's called, "a shoe-in." The least forgettable is always the most recent, they'd have us believe.

The best movies are the most memorable, and, if up to snuff, should be resilient enough to withstand a release date anywhere between July and January. The best film reviews, however, tend to be, in this humble Critissassin's opinion, the least memorable. The way to judge a film review isn't by its in-depth analysis, by its quotable, witty look-at-me writing, or even by its interpretive ingenuity. The sole purpose of a review, unfortunately only in theory, is to get you off your lazy ass and into a movie theater. If it does that, it's a winner (unless the review was a merciless pan, intended to keep you at home and out of that theater seat). While I cannot give you The Best Film Reviews Of '07 (subjectivity, yada...), I will provide you with a list of my Top Ten Favorite Film Reviews Of 2007.

TOP TEN FAVORITE FILM REVIEWS OF 2007 (in no particular order) :

1. "Juno" - Great Movie, 13 November 2007

Author: dougiejr3 from Houston, TX

I saw this movie and was really looking forward to it, because I liked the director's last offering, "Thank You For Smoking". I was completely knocked off of my feet! The humor was completely entertaining and didn't dwindle into a perverted cuss fest like some other comedy offerings of late (Superbad). The actors did a tremendous job - J.K. Simmons (no longer will he just be remembered for Spiderman), Ellen Page was incredible (finally a movie to like her in - Hard Candy was just too creepy, sorry), and Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner are paired up once again (also paired in The Kingdom) and play the embattled parents to be of this new child while facing their own demons in their struggling marriage. The movie was just very real, and also gives anyone hope that good things can come out of seemingly bad and insurmountable odds. Go and see this film!

Why can't they all be this straightforward?!?! Thanks, Dougiejr3 from Houston.

2. "No Country For Old Men" - Cleaning up pieces of brain and skull around theater after my head exploded, 21 November 2007

Author: judiquer from Canada

Amazing acting, cinematography, sound, and plot development. This movie has it all going off. Drink it like a 25 year Scotch. Slow and deliberate. It's not so much about finishing it as it is enjoying the tastes, smells, sounds, and sights along the way. Can't wait to watch it again. It comes at a time where Hollywood is content soaking us in a stagnant pool of mediocrity. Breath in this fresh air people, take comfort in the fact that there are still those out there that care deeply about making great films. The Coens use of lesser known actors for pivotal roles can only attest to their vision. Big name actors playing leads can often be the Achilles heel of a potentially epic film. Past performances have a way of bleeding into the project. The Coen brothers tread carefully here ensuring that no compromises are made in the telling of this gripping story.

Intelligent, heartfelt, and, but for its title, no nonsense. I know it sounds pretentious - ME, putting a foreign film review in my top ten, but great is great. Two words: Oh, Canada! I didn't read this critique until after I'd seen the film, but it made me want to see it a third time (I'd already planned on seeing it a second time).

3. "Because I Said So" - It's just fun :), 3 February 2007

Author: molkath17 from United States

I don't want to lie to you, I'm not a Diane Keaton fan, nor am I a Mandy Moore fan. Besides asking yourself why I even saw this movie, you should wonder how it managed to get a 9 from me despite my tastes.

Well, I went because my friends wanted to see it. And I gave it a 9 because I thought it was surprisingly good. It's not intense, it's not fast-paced, it's not a mind-bender. It's just a fun thing to watch. Diane Keaton is energetic and so much fun - and I promise you that by the end of the movie, she'll have (in some way or another) reminded you of your own mother. And Mandy Moore is very good as the quirky daughter who is, in reality, very much like her mother. It's just a sweet tale - most likely for women only - that reminds girls and their mothers that they're not alone in the battles. (Though viewers be warned - there's a little sexual content. And a little more conversation about sexual content...)

There's nothing terribly unique about it, but the writing is good and the plot is entertaining. There aren't going to be any surprises, it's just entertaining, lively, and very sweet.

Judging from the trailer, the subject of this movie review looked like a run of the mill bad comedy. I haven't seen it, nor to I plan on seeing it. I imagine it's probably not as funny as "Dan In Real Life," but I don't plan on seeing that either. Professional critics despised the former, and embraced the latter. But, after reading Molkath 17's review, I am more likely to see the worst-reviewed film of the year, "Because I Said So," than the Dane Cook movie. Check out Molkath's other succinct bad review of "Black Dahlia," just in case you think he/she likes all shitty movies.

4. "Norbit" - Murphy brothers have a hit!, 9 February 2007

Author: gfygoober17 from Illinois

*** This comment may contain spoilers ***

Eddie Murphy has put out the best movie of 2007(as of yet anyways). was a bit leery of going to see Norbit, but glad i did now. While seeing trailers in the theater i envisioned another meet the Klumps but Eddie solidified this movie by casting some great supporting roles, ala terry crew(longest yard, click) Cuba Gooding Jr(for once not playing a sweet and innocent character), Kat Williams, Eddie Griffen(undercover brother). Im sure I'm forgetting some but these supporting roles help solidify Norbit. Norbit not only has a good cast of black actors, but the story line is Definitely Original and funny. Norbit had me laughing so loud that i actually missed some lines in the movie. Eddie's character Mr.Wong steals the show, just wish there was a little more from Charlie Murphy. Don't know many actors that can pull off multiple characters in one movie, that is definitely Eddies talent.

Okay, this is one is a guilty pleasure. This must've been a studio-bought review. Not only is this the only entry at IMDB by its author (a clear indication of a phony critique - for now, anyway), but then there's the obvious "let's not be too obvious 9-star instead of 10-star rating." This review gets me everytime. Whenever I'm feeling down in the dumps, I read it and it makes me remember why I got into the criticiding business in the first place. A must-read for anyone suffering from clinical depression.

5. "Transformers" - Best summer flick of 2007., 27 June 2007

Author: Liquid47 from Auckland, New Zealand

I watched this film at an advanced screening in New Zealand. I loved Transformers as a child, but was not a die hard fan, so I did not complain over the changes. However, I had decent expectations for this movie as people were saying it's better than expected.

I can say that I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. However, it did fall a little flat on what I expected it to be. It's Michael Bay, ladies and gents, don't expect anything more.

Transformers begins with the reason for the alien robots' existence. How the all important AllSpark (essentially the life giver) was lost into the vacuum of space after the robots divided between good and evil. Falling onto Earth, a handful of these entities travelled the galaxy to find this all important device. Great premise, but how about the execution? Visually, the film is astounding. ILM have outdone themselves once again and have created top notch visuals for others to measure up to. The robots look real, feel weighty yet elegant, and with every Bay movie, there are explosions. And what beautiful explosions they are. This is complemented with a hit-and-miss musical score. At times, the score is cinematic brilliance. At other times, you wonder why Linkin Park was included, when sequences with emotional pieces are suddenly juxtaposed with the current Billboard Hot 100.

The acting is competent. I thought that with a cast mostly compromised of underwear models and hip hop artists, I would be disappointed. Shia LaBeouf (Sam Witwicky), Josh Duhamel (Cpt. Lennox), Tyrese Gibson (Sgt. Epps), and even Megan Fox (Mikaela) delivered surprisingly well. Even with Jon Voigt in the cast, you cannot see a distinct line in ability between the seasoned vet and relative new comers. But although the acting was top notch, it was severely hampered by the script.

The script, to put it frankly, does not take itself seriously. At all. Firstly, there was a lack of story. Autobots and Decepticons want the AllSpark. One wants to defend it. The other wants to use it. Battle. Fin. Secondly, I could not remember one scene that did not have some humorous one liner put in to make the audience laugh. Even in the most grave of sequences, did some joker blurt out something (admittedly) funny, making you wonder "Wait.... Earth's in danger, and you're cuing for a crash on the drums?!" Some of the script was clever, and in the parts which were appropriately funny, hit the nail on the head (Shia LaBeouf is a child prodigy in comedy).

Transformers. Everyone wants to know "What about the Transformers?". Well, personally, they were simply awesome. They could have been more 2D than they were and I still would have liked them. Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Jazz, Frenzy, Ratchet... Megatron, Starscream, Bonecrusher, Barricade and Ironhide -- they were masterfully put on film.

However, only two of those actually got a decent amount of character development -- Bumblebee and Optimus Prime. Bumblebee, being the first Transformer Sam sees, and Optimus, of course gets plenty of screen time being the Autobot leader. It's a shame that the Decepticons were only there to be the "bad guys", even Megatron. It would have definitely benefited the movie if all the robots were fleshed out and given some emotional attachment to the crowd. It doesn't, and this does have a few repercussions towards the end of the movie. Nevertheless, it was enjoyable to see them wreak havoc in different countries, and with the inevitable sequel, one can only hope that we get to know more about these "loveable" mechanical beings.

It is definitely the must see summer flick of the year, and whilst not Oscar material, it is one of the best 'popcorn' movies of recent times.

While I will probably die before recommending a Michael Bay movie to anyone, I will recommend this review to anybody with a closed a mind as mine when it comes to Mr. Bay's life's work. It actually, for once, made me feel like a jaded, old, wet blanket for pre-judging. Then, it made me angry for feeling that way. For me, this review was an emotional rollercoaster. Maybe not my favorite Liquid47 review, but it spoke to me on a personal level.

6. "Lucky You" - Part chick flick, part poker story; a failure at both, 2 January 2008

Author: ntsci from canada

*** This comment may contain spoilers ***

To sum this mess up "Lucky You" is 1 part chick flick, 1 part poker story and it is a miserable failure at both.

Who is the intended audience? My wife and I watched it together, I fast forwarded at 1.5 speed (where one can still here the vocal track) through the chick flick bits (they even managed to make sex boring) and she wanted to fast forward through the poker bits. But neither of us thought much of the film.

The poker in the film is lame. This is not a film for poker fans!!! Seeing real bets by real players, for stakes in the millions can be exciting. Watching well staged hands in seedy card club where life hangs in the balance (e.g., Rounders, Cincinatti Kid) can also be exciting in a film. But watching actors mess it up with fake posturing in a fake tournament, and folding out of sympathy (to his hated dad!), just isn't exciting to watch. To make matter worse nothing is really riding upon the game. Big deal if he make up with his dad, nothing in the film makes us care one way or the other.

I give it a two because the stupid lengths that Huck the gambler goes through to get his cash may educate someone. I told my daughter, you meet a guy like this dump him. But the movie unfortunately has a happy ending for the lovers (til they get the next rent if due notice). I'd have given it a 4 if she had dumped the loser and found someone more reliable to get it on with (his dad for example).

Overall, the film is one unrelentingly boring film.

Being a die-hard Texas Hold 'Em addict, I am naturally interested in poker movies and have seen every American film about the subject. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to this namby-pamby, watered-down-looking bullshit movie. Robert Duvall or no Robert Duvall. But, I had to see it, I thought. Then, after reading this review of "Lucky You" and the favorable review in The L.A. Weekly by some jackass critic who actually had the audacity to put it in the same league with the films of Preston Sturges, I decided, "No, I will not waste two hours of my life." In Gambler's Anonymous, they teach you that the money you have lost is not as important as the time you have lost. I saved both my time and my money. Lucky me.

7. "Sicko" - Before your criticize it, watch it, 19 June 2007

Author: slimfan from United States

Some of you posting here are a little confused. Michael Moore is as patriotic an American as there is. Let's not forget that a TRUE patriot is someone who will speak out against injustice -- even when perpetrated by his government. The big lie promulgated by the radical Right is that Socialized Medicine = Socialism/Communism. The unsophisticated and uneducated masses in this country believe it: they think that waving the flag and "supporting the President" mean they love America. But America is not the President. America is not the Administration. Think for yourselves. Michael Moore has debunked the LIES spread by the insurance industry: the Canadian system works and ALL Canadians like it. Same for the Brits and the French. Someone wrote, "...I disagree with his facts..." and that makes NO SENSE -- a fact is a fact and is not open to interpretation. The FACT is that thousands of our fellow Americans die unnecessarily every year because they cannot afford medical treatment. It's not because they would rather spend their money on recreational drugs. It's not because they're "livin' large" at the taxpayers' expense. It's because there's no money left for insurance after rent, food, clothing, transportation to/from work, student loans and taxes (mostly used to fund the war in Iraq). It's because we live in a country that values corporate profits over human lives. It's because there is no such thing as a corporate conscience. It's because we allow the un-Christian, Undemocratic, IMMORAL practice of "for profit" health care. When a doctor working for a health insurance company is awarded bonuses for rejecting the most legitimate claims, there is something very wrong with that company -- and the industry. Wake up America. The insurance industry hopes you're stupid. The Bush Administration thinks you are. Don't be a sap.

Don't usually like reviews about documentaries, but since I'm a liberal loony, I have to make an exception for a positive critique of a Michael Moore film, if only to spread my virus-like, lefty philosophy throughout the world. Make no mistake, we will get to you.

8. "The Bucket List" - You don't need to know the plot, 30 December 2007

Author: lancedulak from United States

You don't need a fancy overly wordy review. You just need to go see this movie. If you don't you will have missed out on one of the true works of beauty in this lifetime.

The Bucket list is the finest work either Jack Nicholson or Morgan Freeman have ever done, and that says volumes. Its a movie that made a 40something southern truck driver laugh while his heart broke and cry while his heart filled with joy.

Two things happen to those who see this movie: They want to talk to someone they never thought they would. They vow to do something they never thought they could.

Go see this movie.

Yes, this review may be shocking to some who enjoy egghead condescension and overly thought out opinions, but talk about a tearjerker. When the author revealed himself as a 40 something truck driver who could laugh and cry, I went through an entire box of kleenex (and NOT for the usual reason!!!). While I have yet to see the film, as Lancedulak insists we all should, I personally feel that should I ever have the urge to laugh or cry, which is highly unlikely, I could just re-read this review and save a few bucks.

9. "Atonement" - Stunning, 15 September 2007

Author: Phoebe Inglis from Grimsby
I had been so excited to see Atonement since the first time I saw it advertised. Now that tonight I have finally been able to see it I have been left stunned, and now it is all I can think about. The romance between Cecelia and Robbie..is amazing, the chemistry that the two actors have together is captivating and every time they were together I felt pangs in my heart. The two younger actresses who play as Briony are amazing. As I live in Grimsby and I knew that one of the scenes is played in Grimsby I wanted to look out for it, but I was so captivated by the film that I completely forgot to look out for Grimsby. Though I would be glad to see it again, and this time I will try to tear my eyes away from the beauty of the scenery, and acting, and look out for Grimsby. Though this film is a 15 certificate, I begged my mum to buy me tickets, as I am only 14. All I can say is this film is beautiful, and will have you crying, I'm sure of it.

How charming is that? A 14 year-old kid - from Grimsby of all places. I never knew of Grimsby until I read this review. And now, I'll be looking out for Grimsby myself - in all kinds of movies. I'm glad Phoebe is actively taking part in the revolution to put professional critics the world over... OUT OF WORK! Honorary Critissassin Phoebe, keep up the good work.

10. "The Number 23" - Lame, 3 March 2007

Author: The_Defiant1 from United States

This movie has no respect for the viewer's time. It takes a 15 minute story and stretches it into 95 minutes. In order to achieve this, they have to use a very slow narration and have everyone run around with some implausible frantic angst. By the time this movie showed anything interesting in the plot, I just didn't care. The problem is not in the acting, but instead the pacing. The story is just weak. Jim Carrey is a capable actor, but his attempts to inject light humor into a serious role is just out of place. His style of humor is not generic, so he comes across as a watered down version of himself. The number 23 causes great grief and frustration to the people in the story, but the justification for this is never logical. At most it's just mildly interesting. Jim Carrey has far more ability in a serious role than this movie reveals. Don't waste your money seeing this in the theater. Rent this movie if you've had problems sleeping. If you are still wide awake after 10 minutes, then you liked it more than I did. I was not fond of the lighting and artistic aspects of the film making either. A lot of passive visual eye candy was thrown at the viewer with lighting or effects and it did little to enhance the already weak story.

Hate to close on a downer, but I couldn't resist the forthright dislike TheDefiant1 had for the Jim Carrey stinker. Somehow managing to paint a portrait without using the spoiler brush, TheDefiant1 is an artist who can get his point across without resorting to humor, that is unless he was joking about the film's sleep-inducing properties, but I don't think he was. I actually did start to watch this movie and fell asleep about ten minutes into it. Amazing. Power of suggestion? Maybe. All I know is I bought a bootleg and threw away the Nytol. Thanks, The.

EIGHT CRAZY ANTI-SEMITES

Today is the last day of (this year's) Hanukkah, and I'd like to leave you all with a long overdue gift. Below, I have listed eight anti-Semitic film critics, most if not all of whom are still making decent wages in the business of opinion-whoring. How do I know they're anti-Semitic? Who else but ignorant haters of Judaism would print such nasty, vicious things about the first Hanukkah movie, Adam Sandler's 2002 animated holiday masterwork, "Eight Crazy Nights," now on DVD. Surely, these excerpts will convince you that my allegations are not completely unfounded:

1.

"The innocence of holiday cheer ain't what it used to be."
- Sean Axmaker, Seattle Post Intelligencer

Mr. Axmaker apparently seems to think a movie (EVEN JUST ONE MOVIE) about Hanukkah ruins holiday cheer for "the rest of us." Ah, yes, remember what it used to be like when there were NO Hanukkah movies?!? "8 Crazy Nights" was a long time coming and I personally hope there's a sequel in the making.

2.

"This animated abomination is so desperately awful that one walks away amazed at the power Sandler must wield in Hollywood to get it released at all."
- Dawn Taylor, Portland Tribune

Oh, I see. The Jews run Hollywood. That old chestnut that's been roasting on an open fire for the last 85 years. If that's the case, why has the world had to wait this long for one, single, solitary movie revolving around "The Other Holiday?"

3.

"Goes on and on to the point of nausea."
- Gary Brown, Houston Community Newspapers

It seems pretty clear that Mr. Braun is not talking about any feature-length cartoon, but the real Hanukkah, which lasts over one week long. Shame on him for showing such little respect for a holiday he knows little or nothing about and the chosen people whom he chooses to continually misunderstand. Without the Macabees, we'd all be using PCs.

4.

"A bigger holiday downer than your end-of-year 401(k) statement."
- Scott Craven, Arizona Republic

Man-O-Manishevitz. Did he really bring up an accountant reference for the stereotypical Jews and money tie-in? Wow, Scotty must've been a real hit at the 2002 Flagstaff-branch Ku Klux Kristmas Party for that one.

5.

"The most ill-conceived animated comedy since the 1991 dog Rover Dangerfield."
- Bruce Fretts, Entertainment Weekly

Two Jews with one stone. Happy Holidays, brought to you by yet another egg nog-swilling schmuck.

6.

"The Hanukkah spirit seems fried in pork." - David Elliot, San Diego Union-Tribune

What unmitigated gall. To ridicule a time-honored tradition and religious custom during the holidays (It was during Hanukkah of '02 when he wrote the article). By the way, does anybody know if reindeer is kosher?

7.

"Unlike Trey Parker, Sandler doesn't understand that the idea of exploiting molestation for laughs is funny, not actually exploiting it yourself."
- Stephen Himes, Film Snobs

Comparing Trey "The Gentile" Parker to Adam "The Jew" Sandler is like comparing a Christmas fart to a Hanukkah dump and saying Christmas is better. And since when did anything Trey Parker ever produce anything suitable for children?

8.

"It leaves a far worse taste in your mouth than that old holiday fruitcake in your freezer." - David Levine, Filmcritic.com

The worst kind of anti-Semite. A Jewish anti-Semite. Unless he's a goy who changed his name. And what's this about Mr. Levine keeping an old holiday fruitcake in the freezer? I mean, didn't Jeffrey Dahmer do time for that?

There you have it. The Menorah From Hell. All eight candles have been blown out, but unfortunately these cretinous hatemongers continue to parade their narrow-minded, bigoted opinions in the name of free speech, not unlike the nazis who marched in Skokie, Illinois several years back. Only you can stop them. Write letters. A lot of 'em. To the the JDL, to the Anti-Defamation League, and to the critics themselves. Maybe by next Passover, these intolerant foot soldiers for the Christian agenda will have no platform but the blogosphere from which to spew their venomous rage.

SANTANIC VERSES

A few weeks ago, Time Magazine's film critic Richard Corliss conjured up malice in his bowels and shat out a whopping two-page turd, a requiem for the Holy Day and all it represents. The title of his article is "The Claus That Wouldn't Fly." The crucified party? "Fred Claus," the new X-mas movie starring Vince Vaughn and Paul Giamatti.

"Emitting a stale odor from the first reel, Fred never engaged the audience of kids and adults that I saw it with. There were neither big laughs nor the kind of warmth you can feel when moviegoers are connecting with the stuff on-screen."

That's a fair jab, assuming Mr. Corliss did not view the film in question at a NAMBLA-sponsored screening. Otherwise, consider this: It's a given that victimized children are not the best judges of comedy. Some of them might not even find Woody Allen movies funny. Not only that, they generally tend to have a certain amount of disdain for the chubby man who invites children into his lap for photos, if only once a year.

As for Corliss, since when did the opinions of others, especially fucked-up kids, amount to a hill of diddly-squat to him? And why is he shoehorning words such as "phallic" and "pornographized" into an article about a Holiday movie for kids? That takes some twisted gonads, let me tell you. All right, taken in context, his implication is that behind "Fred Claus," there's a nasty, nasty writer. I don't know how anyone could write such a thing about Dan Fogelman, who wrote "Lipshitz Saves The World," but okay. Could be true, I guess. I haven't seen the film. But it's more likely, I think, that a nasty, nasty critic is working overtime to spread joylessness by campaigning against the true meaning of Christmas.

The Scrooge-y screwball then winds up for the pitch:

"I have a scenario for the never-to-be-made Fred Claus II: the elves unionize, realizing that they get paid even less than the 12-year-old Chinese girls who paint lead onto American kids' toys. If Willie and his pals were to call a work stoppage this Dec. 23, the labor movement could score its first quick victory in decades."

In addition to trivializing the labor movement (and especially the WGA Strike) with utter stupidity, Corliss also seems to think it's okay to mock victimized 12-year-old Chinese girls. Again, this is a review about a holiday movie for kids! Did somebody say Ho-Ho-Ho Chi Minh?

Now, here's an excerpt from an article posted by Joan Walsh on Salon.com several weeks ago:

"On Tuesday I blogged about Rush Limbaugh's claim to have threatened a journalist at a national magazine into writing a more positive story about him. On Wednesday, New York magazine film critic David Edelstein (writing on his blog) suggested the journalist Limbaugh intimidated was Time's Richard Corliss, who wrote a 1995 cover story on Limbaugh (Salon reader Jim H. had also guessed the magazine in question might be Time)."

Infighting amongst film critics? Christmas has come early this year. Mind you, I've never been an advocate of naming names (and there's a few I'd like to call Edelstein, believe me), but anyone who rips on a film critic, even if he himself is a film critic, is helping our cause. For that, Mr. Edelstein deserves a thank you wrapped in a neat little bow and stuffed in his waiting coffin. Much appreciated.

Let's say Mr. Corliss speaks the truth when he says that he was never threatened by Mr. Lamebaugh. If we rule out any sort of pay-off, this means the glow-job he gave America's most popular evil-doing, fart-mouthed shock jock was intentionally sycophantic. Maybe they're on the same page politically. Maybe, during pillow-talk, they discuss how much they hate "the gays." Maybe they go to the same church, I don't know. One thing is for sure. If Corliss is in league with a fat man in a red suit, it certainly isn't Santa.

ISHTARRED AND FEATHERED AGAIN

This month, Edgar Wright (director of "Shaun Of The Dead" and "Hot Fuzz) is hosting a series of his personal favorite films at the legendary New Beverly Cinema. Last Sunday, three of us Critissassins were fortunate enough to have been present for the tail end of his tribute to songwriting icon Paul Willams, who was in house for the occasion. Or perhaps the occasion was in house for him. I'm not certain. But I do know there was a camera crew and a sign on the front door: "You are being filmed for a Paul Williams documentary."

First, "Bugsy Malone" was screened. Then, "Phantom Of The Paradise." I came just in time for the third feature, a secret after-midnight showing advertised in the papers - with a wink and a nod - as "Dangerous Business." The actual title of the secret movie, I guess, was not unleashed on the masses for fear that it might keep even the "BM" and "Phantom" fans from attending. The film, one of the most critically-maligned comic masterpieces in cinematic history, is the prescient, hilarious political satire/paean/homage to Hope-Crosby road pictures, "ISHTAR," starring Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman, Isabelle Adjani, Charles Grodin, and Jack Weston.

Before the lights went down for the third time that night, Mr. Wright and Mr. Williams took the stage to introduce the film. Soon after, The Divine Edgar confessed that he had not yet seen the film and was looking forward to it (I guess that's the real reason he didn't advertise it as one of his favorite films).

"But, somebody else in here has seen it (or words to that effect)... Quentin?"

Suddenly, sideways baseball hat-wearing "Ishtar" superfan Quentin Tarantino power-walked down the aisle like he'd just won the palme d'or. Grabbing the mic white hip-hop artist-style (sans the bling), the winded Quarantino professed his unwavering support for the mother of all box office bombs.

One unfunny utterance after another. Quel response? Laughter from the pews. He reminisced about how when he saw "Ishtar" for the first time, at a screening, he was seated directly behind its writer-director, the great Elaine May. "Miss May," he had the gonads to call her, as if to say - She belongs in a magazine, not in a director's chair. She should show us her beaver and shut the fuck up !

He claimed that during that screening, she laughed through the whole of "Ishtar." Why bring that up? Was there ever any doubt that she has a sense of humor?!?!

Then, Mr. T did the unthinkable. He actually sang one of the delightfully (and DELIBERATELY bad songs from the film. The song, "Hot Fudge Love," only has eleven words in it, but he couldn't even manage to get them right. Big fan. Big joke.

After the song and the audience appreciation, Quentin asked Mr. Williams why the soundtrack was not ever made available to the public. Williams said something about Warren Beatty, then suggested that a fully produced soundtrack with Warren and Dustin (as Lyle and Chuck) could surface should a talented hot director consider... doing a remake!!!! At this point, my fellow Critissassins and I booed and hissed. I'm sure Williams didn't mean to add insult to the already insulted and injured "Miss May," but really. It's like suggesting Tarantino remake that other classic dud, "Citizen Kane," which also initially succumbed to the mercy of film critics nationwide.

Finally, the lights dimmed. And did they show "Ishtar?" Yes, but not before bombarding everyone with trailers of lousy movies that cost a lot of money to make. Like critics or Goebbels, the involved parties pre-conditioned the mush-minded with squeaky-wheeled propaganda - lumping together an underrated comic gem with "Hudson Hawk," doing exactly what the critics did in 1987, ensuring a flop. Of course only five or six of us in the audience were in stitches while the rest sat idly waiting for a face that mugs or a cockney accent. In their defense, I will say this. Though silent throughout, most stuck it through to the end, which was pretty late. About 3:30.

And what did they do as the credits rolled? Surprisingly, and inexplicably, after hundreds of minutes of dumbfounded silence, they applauded. Loudly. Sometimes, under the right circumstances, the public can be every bit as mind-bogglingly infuriating as professional film critics.

Mist Opportunity

As it has already been documented on this blogosphere, Roger Ebert gets a pass (most of the time) from criticassassination on account of his ability to present good, fair and balanced reviews, packaged in interesting and well crafted prose. He’s not flawless—but then again, being a professional critic of any art form sort of dictates that. But, more than anything else, there is a sense of nobility that comes with Ebert, which is why, even when he’s wrong, you never get the impression that he’s been influenced by anything other than his own cinematic conscience.

While it’s bad enough that Richard Roeper has carved out a national profile for himself riding Ebert’s coattails on his nationally syndicated show, At the Movies with Ebert and Roeper, what's worse is in the wake of Ebert’s sick leave his chair has been filled week after week by guest-critics who are more concerned with tossing a studio’s salad than making a genuine contribution to the craft of film criticism.

The most recent culprit: Michael Phillips of the Chicago Tribune

The film in question: The Mist

Anybody who has seen The Shawshank Redemption knows what sort of wonderful filmmaking Frank Darabont is capable of, so his most recent movie, The Mist, can’t be seen as anything less than a disappointment (it can’t be a good thing when the movie poster is more entertaining than the movie). As always, Roger Ebert finds just the right way to put it all into perspective. Michael Phillips, on the other hand, finds just the right way to get it wrong.

Darabont himself admits that he didn’t try very hard on this film, even if he couches his admission in director jargon. Says Darabont:

“I always wanted to approach [The Mist] with a different hat on as a filmmaker and get out of my comfort zone of a more painstaking kind of filmmaking.”

Darabont is better than this and I can’t help but think that this lazy adaptation was a convenient way for him to cash a check.

What’s worse is when a film critic, like Michael Phillips, regards a throwaway film as better than it actually is. The funny thing is that, despite his 3 ½ out of 4 star rating, you would be hard-pressed to find anything particularly glowing in his review. Phillips is more interested in taking stabs at Saw and Hostel, then actually backing up his near-perfect rating. Says Phillips:

“Good and creepy, ‘The Mist’ comes from a Stephen King novella and is more the shape, size and quality of the recent ‘1408,’ likewise taken from a King story, than anything in the persistently fashionable charnel house inhabited by the ‘Saw’ and ‘Hostel’ franchises…. People get torn apart and beset by monsters in ‘The Mist’ but not enough, I’m guessing, for the ‘Saw’ folk, who prefer grinding realism to the supernatural.”

Ebert, who gave The Mist a generous but reasonable 2 out of 4 stars, spends much more time actually analyzing the movie, which is ironic since he apparently didn’t like it nearly as much as Phillips. Says Ebert:

“Combine (1) a mysterious threat that attacks a town, and (2) a group of townspeople who take refuge together, and you have a formula apparently able to generate any number of horror movies, from ‘Night of the Living Dead’ to ‘30 Days of Night.’ All you have to do is choose a new threat and a new place of refuge, and use typecasting and personality traits so we can tell the characters apart.”

Ebert hasn’t even gotten to The Mist yet and still you get the impression you’re in the hands of somebody who wants to give you (gentle reader) a genuine review of a below average movie.

Darabont, at this point in his career, has made a name for himself as the guy who adapts Stephen King stories, but good. Nothing wrong with that. His most recent King adaptation before The Mist was The Green Mile. One need only watch five minutes of either film and it is clear which is the superior effort.

Right?

While sitting in Ebert’s chair, Phillips says:

“Darabont’s adaptation [of The Mist] is so much better than The Green Mile, which to me I think is still going on.”

While less emphatic in his written review, the sentiment is still same, when he writes:

“…with ‘The Green Mile’ [Darabont] stretched the adaptation beyond the three-hour mark. For all I know, it hasn’t ended yet. (‘The Mist’ is a full hour shorter, for the record.)”

Because, in Phillips’ world, shorter movies equal better movies.

Notice how in plowing the same terrain, Ebert’s criticism simply comes off as more genuine and more in the spirit of what his job description calls for when he writes:

“If you have seen ads or trailers suggesting that horrible things pounce on people, and they make you think you want to see this movie, you will be correct. It is a competently made Horrible Things Pouncing on People Movie. If you think Frank Darabont has equaled the ‘Shawshank’ and ‘Green Mile’ track record, you will be sadly mistaken.”

Phillips was given a great opportunity when being given a seat across Richard Roeper, who makes anybody in his presence look brilliant by comparison. Unfortunately, Phillips got greedy and was too anxious to please the studios so that they will keep inviting him to their screenings and giving him extra butter on his popcorn.

What a shame.

Throwing Stones At Plastic Bubbles

I'm not big on movies. I mean, they're cool, I guess, and a few have gotten under my skin, but for the most part I prefer reading.

Comic books.

Archie, mostly.

Don't judge.

I also have an enormous fear of being shot in the back of the head in a darkened movie theater. Seriously, why hasn't that happened yet? Has there ever been a movie theater massacre? Because it's the perfect place to kill people. It's dark, it's loud, your victims never see it coming... unless your victim is me. I expect to be murdered every time I set foot on that sticky, smelly carpet. That's why I'm sure to make eye contact with every person in the theater before the movie starts. I want to see who looks shady or nervous or distracted so I can be sure to sit far away from them. If they have a backpack or a large coat, I'll actually start to perspire a little. If they get up to go for popcorn during the movie and leave their backpack behind, I start reciting Hail Mary's until they return, just in case there's a bomb in the bag. (I have to say, the Hail Mary's do work. I have yet to be shot or blown to bits in a movie theater. Someone did throw a toilet paper roll at my head once, but that was during a midnight showing of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." And it was actually the one time I wished someone would shoot me during a movie. But I digress.)

Today's review is of a review of a movie I've watched for years in the comfort (and non-violence) of my bedroom -"The Boy In The Plastic Bubble" starring John Travolta. If you haven't seen this masterpiece, you are missing out. Definitely one of the best made-for-TV movies of 1976. And the competition was fierce back then, let me tell you. (Helloo, ABC's "After School Special"). But who cares what I think? Let's see what Randy White of Common Sense Media thinks.

Whatever it's original goofy charm, the movie hasn't aged terribly well. One 13-year-old viewer ridiculed the show and Travolta's performance. She felt that the story and the acting were "too melodramatic" and the long, highly charged pauses overly sensational. She certainly didn't like the girl next door, who she claimed was "nasty, conceited, and too dumb to be a good catch." She also found the haircuts and clothes unattractive.

Randy White don't know shit.

And what's he doing asking a thirteen year old to do his job? Hi, LAZY.

So, now... what? I'm reviewing the review of a review of "The Boy In The Plastic Bubble?" Ugh, I'm over it already.

If you're still reading, here's what I'll say to that anonymous thirteen year old (who is probably Randy White hiding behind an "alias" because what thirteen year old uses the word "melodramatic?" Um... NONE):

Anonymous thirteen year old (AKA Randy White)... were you raised by wolves? You wish you were as cool as the bubble boy. He goes to school via video teleconferencing... in 1976! When's the last time you attended class over an 11" black and white Zenith TV? (Don't even try to say you have, bitch.) He also wears really tiny, tight shorts... and that is hot. He has long feathered hair. Need I say more? No, I needn't. But I must. Because I haven't even mentioned the coolest thing ever... he is allergic to AIR. That is so cutting edge it's, like, embarrassing. (Note to Randy: "like embarrassing" sounds way more tweener than "too melodramatic"... for future reference.) And lastly, thirteen-year-old (AKA Randy White)... girls who are "nasty, conceited and too dumb" are ALWAYS the best catches. Or don't you watch "The Hills?"

So, in closing, I would have to surmise that Randy White's review of a thirteen-year-old's review of "The Boy In The Plastic Bubble" leaves a lot to be desired. In his attempts to be cool (i.e. consulting a "teenager" for his research) the Randster is incredibly uncool. In fact, his commentary reeks of dorkdom. In FACT, in a word, Randy's review is just plain wrong.

I know what you're thinking. Why so harsh, Critty? People are entitled to their opinions.

Yes, they are.

But not if they differ from mine.

Being Franz Kafka

(Note to reader: In my consolidated sympathy with the clan of WGAers and their attempt to fight the good fight, I’ve decided not to write about an actual movie or any of its actual critics. Instead, I will be reviewing a movie that doesn’t exist.)

If there were a single filmmaker roaming the land of dreams capable of committing Franz Kafka’s surreal masterpiece, “The Metamorphosis,” to celluloid, then it would have happened a long time ago—which is why it should surprise nobody that a cinematic super group comprised of Ron Howard, Clint Eastwood, Steven Soderbergh and David Lynch were brought together under the watchful eyes of Brian Grazer and the brothers Weinstein in order to take on the daunting task.

As it’s been well documented in blogs and film forums all over the net, Miramax/Paramount/Warner Bros had one heck of a time getting a filmable screenplay on paper. Grazer had the out-of-the-box idea of bringing in a novelist to adapt Kafka’s short story, settling on Tom Robbins (author of a number of books loved by hippies and hated by most everyone else.) “He’s as close to Kafka as I’ve ever seen in print,” Grazer said, before later admitting to never having read any of Robbins' novels. But Robbins' insistence on adapting Kafka’s short story “from memory” and his refusal to travel outside of Seattle convinced Bob and Harvey Weinstein to excuse him from the project and go with the more obvious choice of Charlie Kaufman. While Kaufman made for a natural fit, negotiations stalled when he refused to sign on to the project unless he was allowed to collaborate with Tom Robbins’ non-existent twin brother, Rob Robbins. The Weinsteins eventually agreed and pre-production was under way.

There is much to be admired on the part of The Filmers of Cinema (as the filmmaking quintuplet was named by Grazer, after a secret tree house meeting with Ron Howard) in the casting of Gregor Samsa, the stories protagonist. Jim Carrey would have been the easy choice, especially after he lobbied for the role by dressing up as a cockroach on every late-night show that would have him. And despite Soderbergh’s insistence that George Clooney would be ideal for the role, because “he’s actually willing to morph into a cockroach to prove his ability as an actor,” it was Lynch who managed to get The Filmers of Cinema to agree on a less obvious choice: Dakota Fanning.

I couldn’t possibly write this review if I didn’t at least acknowledge the much publicized on-set fighting that went on between Ron Howard and Clint Eastwood. The most notorious fight came on the first day of shooting when Howard showed up to the set and Eastwood said, “Hey, who invited Happy Crap to the party?” To which Howard replied, “Yeah, well at least my boxing movie didn’t kill off the main character!” This was met with silence from everybody, except for an out-of-sight Brian Grazer who was heard high-fiving himself behind the crafts service table. The silence was broken when Eastwood retorted by calling Howard a nerd, causing the entire crew to erupt into laughter.

This is a film not to be missed! It’s an extravaganza of cinematic treats! If my eyes were any happier, I would have had to leave them alone with a bottle of lotion and tissue! The world of film has been rocked off its axis and it will take a Herculean effort of dubious proportions to set it back right! I can’t wait to see it!

Cast & Credits

Gregor Samsa: Dakota Fanning
Grete: Natalie Portman
Gregor's father/Gregor’s mother: Adam Sandler

Miramax/Paramount/Warner Bros presents a film directed by The Filmers of Cinema. Written by Charlie Kaufman & Rob Robbins and Tom Robbins. Based on the short story “The Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka. Running time: 302 minutes. Rated R (for intense sequences of violence and some sexual material with insects).

NO JOB FOR OLD MEN (OR WOMEN)

I hate two-fers. Not only is lumping together two movie reviews into one an exercise in laziness, it's insulting to the film makers of both films being reviewed. No movie, not even a feature starring Dane Cook, deserves having to share the stage with another in a half-baked write-up. Like a cut-rate Universal Life Church minister, 79-year-old Andrew Sarris of The New York Observer has officiated the wedding of Sidney Lumet's "Before The Devil Knows You're Dead" and The Coen Brothers' "No Country For Old Men" in his article, "Just Shoot Me! Nihilism Crashes Lumet and Coen Bros."

After giving "Before The Devil" an unenthusiastic hand tremor, not to be confused with the uncontrollable tremor of his other hand, Sarris turns to "No Country," ceremoniously giving it his "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" before high-horsing into the sunset to collect his Big Fat Greek Paycheck. Some wedding, huh?

The fact that Sarris disparages both films (and Cormac McCarthy's novel, "No Country For Old Men") because they are Nihilistic, and therefore some kind of ideological threat to the universe, is even more offensive than Nihilism itself. That level of closed-mindedness has no place in a film review, and is surely a signal of how he'll be voting next November. Talk about a threat to the universe!

I personally believe Mr. Sarris' near-octogenarianism might be the determining factor in the loss of his critical thinking skills and his inability to put forth a convincing argument built on a foundation of quicksand. This is something every professional critic should know how to do and do well, either to flesh out a thin critique or to give a studio-bought review the desired result (yea or nay). He used to be a crackerjack at it. Don't get me wrong, he's still sharp with the bon mots, but there's no meat and potatoes.

In the "No Country For Old Men" portion of his article, Mr. Sarris does acknowledge the great performances by Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, and Kelly MacDonald. Strangely, though, he describes the film's insane, murder-mad villain (the Bardem character) as "a subhuman killing machine with a touch of whimsy." Doesn't that sound like the job description of a movie critic?

The Javier Bardem character is not the only kindred spirit Mr. Sarris has found on what he cynically calls "this reportedly endangered planet." He is married to fellow critic and author of "From Reverence To Rape: The Treatment Of Women In The Movies," feminist Molly Haskell. As of late, MRS. SARRIS(!) has been de-balled, not unlike Janet Maslin, and has gone from being a film critic to being a book critic for The New York Times. It is unusual for me to review book reviews, as I think books are jive-ass, but since she is a "once was" and is married to a "still is," I'll make an exception.

Between authoring books such as "Love and Other Infectious Diseases: a Memoir" and "Holding My Own in No Man's Land: Women and Men and Film and Feminists", Miss Molly writes about one review every fifteen years - probably because she chooses only to write good reviews, and probably specifically for her female writer friends.

In one of her more recent reviews (written in the year 2000), "High-Wire Artist," she does a fine job of not reviewing Kate Buford's biography, "Burt Lancaster: An American Life." But for a single blurb-friendly line where she calls the 400-plus page monster a "splendid biography," Haskell instead reviews Burt Lancaster the man, choosing to treat the article more like a book report than a critique, more like an advertisement than an analysis.

Perhaps she has finally grown a conscience after years of abusing imaginationeers in her film reviews, subscribing now to the "If you have nothing nice to say" philosophy. Or perhaps, and more likely, she has become one of those voiceless, powerless women without opinions - the kind she obsessively writes about in her books - a victim of her husband's success and egomania. With no point of view to call her own, Haskell is a failure as a critic, but at least she's a human being.

Her spouse, on the other hand, has opinion-eggs crawling out of his bony ass. And even with his teeth in a glass by the bed, he's got more bite than she has ever had and probably ever will have. He is a God-fearing, God Complex-having Nihilist-hater who seems determined to piss on creative people for the rest of his days.

How can we stop him? Depends.

DON'T HONK IF YOU WANT SCREENPLAYS WRITTEN BY HENRY SHEEHAN!

Two weeks into the strike and still no sign of an act break. This one's shaping up to be an epic. The kind you don't want to watch. A Michael Bay epic. Black Hats Vs. White Hats, plenty of explosions, and unbelievable dialogue. Of course, there might be a plot twist. Just imagine Armageddon with an unhappy ending.

This may sound far-fetched, but I believe screenwriters may one day find themselves in the ironic position of reviewing their own films. Should the strike last as long as many fear it will, some TV and film writers may end up looking for work wherever they can find it. Whether it's writing for Paramount or cranking out movie reviews for "The Sacramento Bee," writing is what writers do best. In most cases, it's the only thing they can do.

And who will be left to take the screenwriting jobs? I'll give you a hint. We'll probably be seeing a lot more American films with English subtitles, sympathetic child-molesting protagonists, and inside jokes that only Gene Shalit gets.

UNREEL

HONK IF YOU LOVE WRITERS!

A funny thing happened to me yesterday. So racked with guilt about the previous day and how I ducked out on the picketers after only thirty minutes of support, I decided to return and give it another whirl. This time, I brought earplugs.

But when I got there, no one was striking. Probably not the first time any of these writers started the weekend off early, I thought. But, during a labor dispute? How bourgeois. Just as I was about to leave, I looked up to notice, across the street, a billboard staring down at me like some scowling Biblical dude from the top of a mountain. I had to do a double-take. It was an ad for The L.A. Times featuring a photo of their illustrious opinion-whore Kenneth Turan alongside one of his quotes - "It's Hard To Imagine A World Without Films." One last cynical thought before heading to the Mac Store - In the immortal words of John Lennon, "It's easy if you try."

Overcome with a sudden sense of melancholy, I made my way to a laptop at The Grove's Mac store, hoping to discover that a minor miracle had taken place. No such luck. The WGA Strike was, in fact, not over. I felt awful. I wanted to make amends with those young Comedy Central writers I had taken to task in my Thursday post. I wished I hadn't written it. I wanted to take back every nasty jab. Yes, I would love to live in a world without film critics, but not if it means living in a world without films. We need our writers, young and old. The annoying and the curmudgeonly. The good, the bad, and the smugly. This is not the time for infighting. Something bigger than all of us is going on here. All creatives MUST stand together stoically against the Greed Machines who are trying to keep every last one of us at bay.

Where was I? Oh, yes. So, anyway, drastic action was called for. Somebody had to cover for these lazy 3-day-weekending scribes. Like a bat outta hell, I ran home, got out a sharpie, some cardboard, and made my own sign - "HONK IF YOU LOVE WRITERS!" After fashioning a make-shift picket sign, I ran back to CBS and picketed for about 45 minutes... all alone. During this time, I did not get so much as one honk. Derisive laughter, yes. Pointing and headshaking, looks of pity, you bet! Maybe the occasional thumbs-up by a passing trucker, but not one toot. When the tape came loose and the sign fell apart, I was so forlorn that I just walked home with my head hung low. As I was approaching my apartment with that brokedown sign under my arm, some smartass neighbor of mine honked her support and had a good laugh before speeding off to her Friday night yoga class. After entering my humble abode, I plopped myself down at the 'puter to check my e-mail.

After opening my server, I noticed a news story had recently broken - "THOUSANDS RALLY AT 20TH CENTURY FOX."

NOTE TO ALL WGA MEMBERS IN GOOD STANDING:

PLEASE DISREGARD THURSDAY'S POST. YOU ARE ALL WELCOME TO JOIN CRITICIDE AS HONORARY CRITISSASSINS. HOWEVER, DUE TO THE EXPECTED HIGH VOLUME OF RESPONSES, WE WILL BE CAREFULLY SCRUTINIZING ANY AND ALL MATERIAL SUBMITTED. IF WE DO NOT ACCEPT YOUR MATERIAL IMMEDIATELY, DO NOT BE DISCOURAGED FROM TRYING AGAIN. A RESPECTFUL LETTER OF REJECTION IS NOT AN INDICTMENT OF THE QUALITY OF YOUR WORK. THERE MAY BE A VARIETY OF REASONS WHY YOUR POST IS NOT PUBLISHED THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR SHORTCOMINGS AS A WRITER.

IF YOUR SUBMISSION IS CONSIDERED FOR PUBLISHING ON CRITICIDE.COM, YOU WILL BE ASKED TO SIGN A RELEASE FORM FOR YOUR OWN PROTECTION. IN ADDITION, YOU WILL ALSO BE ASKED TO SIGN A BINDING AGREEMENT WHICH ABSOLVES YOU OF ANY LEGAL RIGHTS TO YOUR OWN WORK. SHOULD WE SUDDENLY ATTRACT SPONSORS DUE, IN PART OR ENTIRELY, TO YOUR CONTRIBUTIONS, YOUR ANONYMITY WILL BE PROTECTED UNDER FEDERAL LAW.

DON'T HONK IF YOU HATE WRITERS!

Today, I did the unthinkable. With the best of intentions, to show my solidarity with the thousands of unemployed scribes here in Hollywood, I infiltrated the WGA's Writer's Strike. But only for half an hour. That's all I could take.

There I was, at the front entrance gate of one of the major television studios, marching alongside a bunch of twenty-somethings who don't know dick about shit. Yes, there were a handful of gung-ho over-fifties who seemed invigorated by this ordeal, thrilled to be duking it out with Goliath. These righteous elderfolk with their heated passion and unsinkable vitality should have been an inspiration to their younger counterparts, the latte-drinking mopers in expensive ratty clothes. Did these cool whippersnappers take the opportunity to co-mingle with the older-but-wisers? Of course not. Just as most children who go to public school today tend to have no respect for their instructors, these dumbass know-it-all kiddies missed a great opportunity to learn from the "out of touch" Methuselahs, choosing instead to pitch their latest works of genius to each other. It was all too surreal. A couple Comedy Central writers refused to pitch any good ideas, but they spoke endlessly about, well... being Comedy Central writers. Shameless self-plugging, networking by the not-working. They were kind of funny, actually. You know, like Jerry Lewis is funny when he's serious. I mean, for me to know that these guys were Comedy Central writers within five minutes of picketing with them speaks volumes. You gotta hand it to 'em, though. They've got to keep it up for four hours a day. Mind you, verbal viagra hasn't even been invented yet.

Ah yes, then there were the brooding loners, in their own heads, silently pitching their own works of genius... to themselves. I even wanted to tell them to shut up. I kept moving to different parts of the picket line, hoping to escape the sounds of the mono-syllabic word-slingers and their kindergarten logic.

Finally, I met a very interesting lady. She was the lone African-American woman in the crowd. Side by side, with our picket signs held high, we walked and talked. She was by far the most down-to-earth person in the group - talkative, but not obnoxious. Charming and cute. Funny, but not phony. Wouldn't you know it, she turned out to be an actress, a SAG member just showing support for a worthy cause.

I am not rescinding my invitation to striking writers. Criticide needs Critissassins. The offer still stands, but now there's a qualifier: TO JOIN US, YOU MUST BE AT LEAST FORTY YEARS OF AGE. If you're younger than that, you know what an internet is. Congratulations. Now leave the writing to people with experience, wisdom, and genuine self-loathing.

HONK IF YOU HATE CRITICS!

To our creative brothers and sisters, WGA members in good standing -

Sloped shoulder to sloped shoulder, if only in spirit, we stand with you during these trying times. Yesterday marked the first day of the writers strike. There hasn't been a WGA-backed walkout since 1988. The world, what with the emergence of the internet and DVDs, has changed since then, but you know all about that. What you may not know is that a conspiracy theory has already surfaced regarding the actual reason behind this year's strike: Could it be possible that the corporations backing the studios and networks are intentionally forcing the current situation? Yes. How else can one explain their ludicrous proposal to "overhaul" the residual situation that's been in place for over twenty years? Did they really expect your union to roll over on that? No, of course not. They expected what they got - an angry reaction, an unwillingness to negotiate.

Mark my words, ultimately they will sit down and deal with you, but not until they are forced to deal with the actors at next year's scheduled SAG Strike. Or perhaps they'll hold out until Giuliani is elected President. I'm not implying that the corporations and media moguls who are beholden to the Bush administration are doing everything in their power to keep Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert off the air until then. I'm shouting it from the rooftops! As you know, the REAL news on TV comes to us from the satirists, each of whom will be rendered politically impotent in this particular medium, increasingly so as time goes by. How effective will Bill Maher's "OLD RULES" be next November? Think about it.

Anyway, I'm writing to you not entirely for altruistic reasons. I cannot speak for all of the resident Critissassins here at Criticide, but I will say this... you have my support and my sympathy. Four hours a day, networking with other writers when you should be in a plush Starbucks chair reading the paper and kvetching about the state of the world. It's probably even worse than it sounds. Now, while your resistance is low and you have a little extra time on your hands, I would like to appeal to your sense of justice, which may or may not be recently acquired. We are Criticide. We take down professional critics, some of whom might have slighted you in the past. Those of you who are not accepting scabwork and are sympathetic to our cause are cordially invited to join us as honorary Critissassins, helping us fight our fight - a fight, not unlike your fight, worth fighting.

CROSSING CROSSWALK

Crosswalk.com is an unholy mess. A Christian-based website dedicated to film criticism makes about as much sense as a Muslim-based website dedicated to Judaism. As a fence-sitting agnostic, I was both shocked and horrified to hear that such an internet hotspot actually existed. Thought it would be nothing but good reviews, following the "If you have nothing nice to say..." credo, but man was I mistaken. The facts are even more disturbing than I'd imagined. Recently, contributing writer to Crosswalk, Christa Banister, cast more than just a few stones at the new baseball flick "The Final Season" :

"Although they’re both set in Iowa and they’re both about baseball, let’s get something straight right off the bat (no pun intended): The Final Season just can’t compete with Field of Dreams. Sadly, with a screenplay that is more mediocre and a sappy musical score, you might think you were watching a subpar, made-for-television movie."

She ends her article with the final word on "The Final Season?" Nothing you wouldn't find in the final chapter of the Book Of Revelations:

"Ultimately, it’s these jarring twists and turns in the storyline, not to mention the lackluster acting and poor editing, that cause The Final Season to strike out from the first pitch. In what’s already a formulaic genre, it would have been better to offer more than a line like “How do you want to be remembered?” during a crucial moment. Instead, perhaps taking a cue from its Iowa-set predecessor would have helped. When Kevin Costner’s character finally plays catch with his father in Field of Dreams, one can’t help but tear up. But if you’re doing so during The Final Season, it’s only because you’re hoping it will end sometime soon."

If all this Hell, Fire, and Brimstone (not the law firm) weren't enough, this review was paid for (thanks to the religious ads), which is only one of several of MY Ten Commandments that were broken by Miss Banister. What's more, I'm pretty sure that someone speaking on the Lord's behalf, especially when it comes to film, is blasphemous.

Dear Believer,

Jesus, Christa, what's with the crucifying? Where's the love? Do the words, "Judge not, lest ye shall be judged" mean anything to you? While this brand of Christianity, wrought with hypocrisy and mean-spiritedness, defines the religion itself for some people, it is sinful to real Christians the world over. I suggest you put down the poisoned pen, pick up a hammer and go build some houses for the poor with the other J.C. (Jimmy Carter). You cannot simultaneously be a true Christian AND a critic, unless you share the same morally ambiguous values of the hate-mongering, limousine-escorted soldier of the Christian Righteous, Pat Robertson.

Salty Milkduds

THIRTEEN GHOSTS' QUOTES

On this Halloween, the Ghosts Of Critissassins Past have come out to play. Leaving their usual haunts - bars, film studios, castles, gay bath houses, etc. They've e-mailed their own quotes to us from the Kinkos on Vine just below Sunset Boulevard here in Hollywood, Cal. These thirteen folks may be dead, but their brainy bon mots continue to linger, like a tasty Pink's hot dog breeze - effervescently, fighting off the stench of rotting film critic brains that waft throughout this putrified forest.

"Critics are like eunuchs in a harem; they know how it's done, they've seen it done every day, but they're unable to do it themselves."

- Brendan Behan (February 9, 1923 - March 20, 1964)

"Criticism is prejudice made plausible."

- H. L. Mencken (September 12, 1880 - January 29, 1956)

“Don't pay any attention to the critics-don't even ignore them.”

- Sam Goldwyn (August 27, 1882 – January 31, 1974)

"If criticism had any power to harm, the skunk would be extinct by now."

- Fred Allen (May 31, 1894 - March 17, 1956)

"You know who critics are?--the men who have failed in literature and art."

- Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield Disraeli (1804-1881)

"I love criticism just so long as it is unqualified praise."

- Noel Coward (December 16, 1899 - March 26, 1973)

"If I had listened to critics, I would have died broke in the gutter."

- Anton Checkov (1860-1904)

"Criticism is a study by which men grow important and formidable at a very small expense."

- Samuel Johnson (September 18, 1709 - December 13, 1784)

“What critics call dirty in our pictures, they call lusty in foreign films.”

- Billy Wilder (June 22, 1906 – March 27, 2002)

"There is no defense against criticism except obscurity."

- Joseph Addison (May 1, 1672 - June 1719)

“The lot of critics is to be remembered by what they failed to understand.”

- George Moore (1873-1958)

"Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative, a friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger."

- Franklin P. Jones (1887 - 1929)

"Pay no attention to what the critic says; there has never been set up a statue in honor of a critic."

- Jean Sibelius (December 8, 1865 - September 20, 1957)

Pan in Real Life

There seems to be a cynical sentiment in the world of film criticism that if a movie attempts to make its audience feel good, then that movie is somehow fraudulent and not worthy of your time. Further more, if said movie succeeds in making its audience feel good, then not only is the movie fraudulent, but the audience who enjoyed it simply doesn’t know what’s good for them.

The latest example of this strange phenomenon is the Steve Carell vehicle, Dan in Real Life. If I were to sum up the consensus amongst those film critics who didn’t like it, it would sound like this: “How dare a film try and make me laugh and warm my cold, robot heart?! I’m going to have to watch Saw IV to cleanse my palette!!!!!!”

(Notice how my composite film critic uses six exclamation points to show how exclamatory his/her statement is? What an asshole.)

Perched atop my favorite ledge, concealed by the shadows of a concrete gargoyle, I let my crosshairs roam, looking for the most deserving hater in need of popping, when I noticed a very interesting pattern—they’re all cribbing from the same hater-handbook.  

Geoff Berkshire of Metromix Chicago writes:

[Dane] Cook demonstrates yet another talent he doesn’t have when his character ‘sings’ Pete Townsend’s ‘Let My Love Open the Door.’ At least in this case he’s supposed to be bad.

So, while he admits that the character isn’t meant to sing well, he still uses the opportunity to grind his out-of-context axe.

Josh Bell of the Las Vegas Weekly also jumps into the fray, with his remark that “Cook is a failure at pretty much everything.”

Nick Schager of Slant Magazine also piles on by referencing “the casting of the reliably insufferable Cook—who, admittedly, is a tad less unbearable than usual…” While Schager eludes to the reality that Cook isn’t bad in this film (and, actually, he’s pretty good) he still paints his back-handed compliment with a negative hue.

But Sean Burns of the Philadelphia Weekly truly takes the cake, when he writes:

As Mitch is played by the odious Dane Cook, we must first take a moment to face the prospect of a universe so cruel, godless and unfair that Juliette Binoche would willingly spend more than 40 seconds in the presence of a loutish, noisy MySpace comedian who tells other people’s jokes.

Rather than talk about the movie in its own context, Burns (along with his hater cohorts) can’t help but shoehorn his unwarranted criticisms of Dane Cook’s career into his review, thereby demonstrating the most rampant symptom of bad film criticism—an acute inability to be unbiased.

Another peculiar similarity that popped up amongst the cold-hearted naysayers was an insistence on comparing Dan in Real Life with a far more inferior film.

Robert Wilonsky of the Village Voice (who most notably made an extended stay in Roger Ebert’s chair) writes:

One could fill this entire space with the titles of films from which writer-director Peter Hedges nicks his story, but for the sake of expediency, we'll narrow it down to a desert-island handful [including] The Family Stone.

The aforementioned Geoff Berkshire offers this:

The end result resembles a slightly warmer version of ‘The Family Stone’ with crossword puzzle contests, talent shows and group aerobics substituting for fleshed-out characters.

James Berardinelli of reelviews.net has this to say:

Dan in Real Life feels like a bad flashback to The Family Stone. However, where that one had some charm, wit, and genuine romantic impulses, this one has none of the above.

The Family Stone, if I’m not mistaken, was a comedy that didn’t work on account of its unfunny take on a dysfunctional family, while at the same time asking the audience to sympathize with an ice queen “protagonist” who had no redeemable qualities, aside from starring as Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City (whether or not that quality is actually redeemable is up for debate).

The truth is that the haters prefer a darker view of the archetypal eccentric America family, because it’s more “real” and that should tell you everything you need to know about the well from which they dip their critical buckets.

At least Chris Kaltenbach of the Baltimore Sun is upfront about it when he writes about the narrative conflict between the two main characters:

There's really no reason [the Carell and Binoche characters]…can't be upfront about their nascent relationship; in fact, they could simply tell everyone about their entirely innocent meeting and laugh it off. Or they could not laugh it off and watch the tension grow—now that could have made for an entertaining dark comedy, watching the family unravel.

Maybe this criticider comes from a simpler place, but when did it become such a cinematic sin to spend an hour-and-a-half in a movie theater smiling?

ABNORMAL COCK: UPDATE

Land sakes alive!

Thanks to you, our loyal readers, Criticide.com is now the #3 Google Search Result for "Abnormal Cock!"

The coveted top slot is well within our grasp, Criticitizens*, so don't stop now. Tell your friends/grandparents/clergyman to keep Googling abnormal cock until we're #1. We can do this... but not without your help.

Don't go soft until Criticide.com is the head of Abnormal Cocks!

*Criticitizens? Hmm... not sure if I like that. Comment with suggestions for what will be your nickname.

ABNORMAL COCK: Criticide Needs Your Help!

As Criticide's resident Cleaning Woman, you might imagine that I see some pretty, er, interesting stuff. Well, goodness gracious, were my little Crittersassins over the moon about my latest discovery. Now let me tell you, folks find our humble little site lots of different ways, but this one takes the cake... As the above screen grab of our Feedburner stats page clearly shows, it appears that last night someone Googled the words "Abnormal Cock" and it led them right to us. You're probably wondering, as I was at first, what on God's Green abnormal cocks have to do with Criticide. Then it hit me, what a darned clever way to find articles about film critics!

So your friendly neighborhood blood mopper, Yours Truly, decided to have a look-see for herself on the Googles. I tell you what, our
latest reader must have bushels o' patience, because I stopped looking for Criticide by page 24 of the search results. Who knew there were so many pages dedicated to film critics?

Then I gots to thinkin' - Page 24?! That will never do. I'll bet there's nothing my little Crittersassins would love more than to be at the very top of page 1. So be a dear and Google "Abormal Cock," then click on the link that shows up for our site. With your help, Criticide can be tops in cocks!

THE UNTALENTED MR. RIDLEY

The following is the beginning of Jim Ridley's film review of "Gone, Baby, Gone," a modern-day hard-boiled detective film directed by Casey Affleck's brother, Ben, who co-scripted with Aaron Stockard. Mr. Ridley is one of the many voices of Village Voice media and is a spoke in the wheel engulfing the cog that is Criticide.

“ 'Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid,” Raymond Chandler wrote in 1950’s The Simple Art of Murder, smacking the ascot off the drawing-room mystery and all its crime-solving dilettante dandies. 'He must be... a man of honor, by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it.' ”

While I admire the ode-like nature of Ridley's cold-open, I'm frankly shocked at the confidence and bravado with which he spews out a mind-numbing inaccuracy. Raymond Chandler wrote "The Simple Art Of Murder," an essay, not in 1950, but in 1944, when it was first published in The Atlantic Monthly. The lesson here: Hire a fact-checker. Even Wikipedia got this one right. Ridley continues...

"Chandler was laying down the archetype of the hard-boiled detective, the hero with a thousand trench coats. He might as well have been summoning Patrick Kenzie, the dark-city crusader of Ben Affleck’s Gone Baby Gone, who hails from the broken glass of Boston’s hard-knock Dorchester district."

Weak on creative observation, strong on formulaic structure, the on-line review goes on... and on... and on. Of course, his review, like some of the best crime novels and film noirs, closes with a callback, creating the intended, if clunky, unwanted reach-around. But Ridley fails to deliver, missing the opportunity to write the review in the style of a crime novelist. Yes, it might've been annoying, but at least it would've produced some kind of emotional reaction from this reader.

"The ending resonates cruelly in this time of war, as our national susceptibility to clear-cut options of good and bad keeps us from frankly considering (or avoiding) likely choices of bad or worse. But that is the scorched earth the detective walks. “It is not a very fragrant world,” Raymond Chandler wrote, 'but it is the world you live in.' "

Open and shut. By the book. One-two-three. With "Film Criticism For Dummies" in one hand, and a reprinted 1950 copy of "The Simple Art Of Murder" in the other, Jim Ridley has read but learned nothing from either. Struggling to be wise, Ridley seems to have read far too much how-to-write literature, killing whatever creativity he may once have had. Which brings me to this quote by the master of crime fiction:

"Everything a writer learns about the art or craft of fiction takes just a little away from his need or desire to write at all. In the end he knows all the tricks and has nothing to say."

- Raymond Chandler

WHO ARE PETER TRAVERS?

Rolling Stone's Peter Travers just might be the closest thing we have to William Shakespeare... or Carolyn Keene. It's only a theory, but I believe Mr. Travers is not one person, but at least three people with widely varying thoughts and ideas, as well as diversely different styles of writing.

Excerpt from Peter Travers' review of James C. Strouse's "Grace Is Gone" -

"Simplicity -- four-square, not sappy -- is rare in film. James C. Strouse had it in his script for Lonesome Jim. As writer and first-time director, he gives Grace Is Gone the quiet power to sneak up and floor you. A reserved father (John Cusack in a devastating change of pace) drives his young daughters, the wondrous Shelan O'Keefe and Gracie Bednarczyk, to a Florida theme park, unable to find words to tell them that their soldier mom has been killed in Iraq. That's it. No politics, no pleading. No artifice."

That was the entire review. Concise, straightforward, and very masculine. With the exception of the words "wondrous" and "artifice," it reads like somebody who writes copy. Or some hard-boiled smoker/alcoholic type non-writer who wears a fedora in public. An old-timer. Somebody who goes to the racetrack and coughs a lot. You get the picture. A sportswriter, maybe. Or somebody's dad. But definitely not a professional film critic.

Now let's look at "his" review of Shekhar Kapur's "Elizabeth: The Golden Age" -

"Cate Blanchett can do anything, even play Bob Dylan, but she can't save this creaky sequel to her star-making 1998 biopic of Elizabeth I. Fie on director Shekhar Kapur's visual and aural bombast and the script's soap-opera heart. Though the sixteenth-century queen is facing her greatest challenge -- from an armada attack by King Philip of Spain (Jordi Molla's performance comes direct from the Ministry of Funny Walks) -- she mostly moons over Sir Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen), who'd rather unbuckle his swash for lady-in-waiting Abbie Cornish. Ugh."

"Fie on director Shekhar Kapur's visual and aural bombast?" Snarky, girlie even - a completely different voice from the author of the "Grace Is Gone" review. A chick definitely ran this through her pink Underwood. Notice the choice to include the word, "Ugh." My guess? Fucking Sandra Tsing Loh was behind this one.

Next, let's turn to an excerpt from Travers' piece on James Gray's "We Own The Night" -

"With long takes and overhead shots that reduce humans to playthings of destiny, Gray's reach is daringly Shakespearean. For some critics, it's just conventional TV pap with delusions of grandeur and a lazy regard for period details. Or even more risible: fascist propaganda for a police state. You be the judge. Gray's first two films, Little Odessa and The Yards, threw me at first. It might take a second or third viewing to see what he's after. It's worth the effort."

"You be the judge?" Now, we're supposed to spend hard-earned cash to see a movie three times to decide if it plays more like a TV MOW or early Leni Riefenstahl? This doesn't read like any Peter Travers review I've ever read. But, then, neither do any of the others. The wordsmith who spit this one out never leaves his flat without a powdered wig. Either a barrister or a cabaret singer.

Dear Peter Travers,

If you are, as I suspect, several writers writing under one pseudonym, shame on you and you and you... If you do exist and are simply hiring ghostwriters to do your work for you, it is only a matter of time before you are outed as a charlatan. Repent now or prepare to suffer the slings and arrows of Criticide in the near future. We will find out!

If there really is just one of you and all of your reviews come from you and you alone, then I urge you to seek the help of a mental health professional immediately. There are medications out there that have done wonders for people with your condition. True, Multiple Personality Disorder cannot be cured, but it can be treated.

Salty Milkduds