Cinema Hype

Okay, everyone. Let’s get something straight. Just in case nothing in the last eight years has tipped you off—you’ve been in a bomb shelter, or trapped under something heavy, or whatever—the 1990s are officially over. Gone. They took their cloud of Gap khakis and enormous cell phones and went home. How do we know we’re in a new decade? A new century? A new millennium? Here’s how: Kevin Costner has a movie coming out this weekend, and nobody even noticed.

The movie is Swing Vote, starring the Prince of Thieves himself, plus the little girl who played Ben’s childhood sweetheart that one time on Lost, as an apathetic Ohio resident whose vote will determine the Presidential election. It’s small. It’s domestic and political (which you know is a winning combination at the box office). It’s the kind of movie that’s going to be dated as soon as it hits theaters, or at the very latest, the first Wednesday after the first Monday in November. But it’s a bit of a milestone for Costner anyway, and we at CH applaud his efforts. Don’t give up, Kevin!

How did this happen? How is it that one of the most marketable film stars of the last decade doesn’t even register anymore? Was it…the string of bad movies connecting 1991 to 2007? I think we can all learn something here. Note to self: In the event of international fame for acting (which is totally going to happen aaaaaany day now), make at most one terrible, bloated “epic” per five-year period. Kapisce?

Ultimately, though, Costner’s sudden under-the-radar status may be the best thing that ever happens to him: a chance to build up some equity in smaller films, remember what it’s like to play a person in the current, living universe, and shift from A-List Adventure Guy to Person Who Isn’t Always On A Horse (as he ages, Orlando Bloom might consider the same transformation. Are you listening to me, O?). He generated some positive buzz in The Upside of Anger, and although Rumor Has It… was a travesty of filmmaking, it wasn’t his usual lead-balloon fare, and that’s something. He is bringing back his famed Midwest Guy persona, a la Field of Dreams, but that’s forgivable. Baby steps, after all. Maybe this is just the beginning of new Costner, someone who’s slightly less cringe-y, has a little more sense about the roles he accepts, someone who’s scaling it down a little. We can hope. Good luck, Kevin.

Swing Vote, Kevin Costner, Madeline Carroll, Orlando Bloom, upcoming movies, new releases

This just in: official trailer for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince! If you’ve lost count (as I had), this places us at number six of eight, with Deathly Hallows split conveniently into two separate movies to squeeze everything in. And this, well, how cool does it look? Thumbs up for Young Tom Riddle, and how about that effect at the end, with Tom *flash* Voldemort? Very sneaky, you crazy trailer-editing kids.

Readers, what do you think?

Well, that’s over. The summer movie season, I mean. Unless you count The Mummy, which I’m not sure I do, the time for overblown shoot-em-up/superhero/adventure movies is finished. Kaput. Lost and gone away. It’s still July, and it might as well be Labor Day.

But say you’re done with blockbusters. Say you’re looking for something a little smaller, with less fire power and more words per minute. In that case, August is your month! It’s all you’ve been waiting for! Here are some selections for upcoming weekends:

Pineapple Express: Okay, when I said “less fire power,” I meant “…than Iron Man.” Seth Rogen and James Franco star in this stoner action comedy(!), written by Rogen and Evan Goldberg (Superbad) and produced, unsurprisingly, by Judd Apatow and Co.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2: And now for something completely different, the chickiest of chick flicks (part two!) revisits four very different friends as they part ways for the summer, passing a pair of very dirty but very magical pants between them. Good thing they squeezed this in before all of the actors turned 30, thereby entering the Land of 90210. (For those playing the home game, this second movie is an adaptation of the fourth and final book in the series.)

Tropic Thunder: Epic flop or brilliant box-office success? Who can tell? Ben Stiller and Jack Black seem, sadly, to indicate the former, but wait! Add Robert Downey Jr. in blackface, and all bets are off. Anything could happen in this war-movie-within-a-comedy; plus, we hear there are guerillas. Awesome.

Henry Poole is Here: Well, this sounds nice. Believing that he’s going to die soon, Henry Poole (Luke Wilson, who is less famous but in many ways more likeable than his brother) leaves his life to spend his last days in solitude, only to find himself surrounded by people who won’t let him. Awww.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona: Woody Allen’s latest, described by the studio like so: “Vicky and Cristina, two young Americans, spend a summer in Spain and meet a flamboyant artist and his beautiful but insane ex-wife. Vicky is straight-laced and about to be married. Cristina is a sexually adventurous free spirit. When they all become amorously entangled, both comedic and harrowing results ensue.” Sounds like…fun? I don’t know, but it’s got Javier Bardem and Scarlett Johansson, and I’ll let you guess whether she’s the straight-laced girl or the “sexually adventurous free spirit.”

So, you see, don’t give up on summer. Find yourself something weird and wacky, settle in with some popcorn, and we’ll check in again around Labor Day.

[tags]summer movies, august movies, pineapple express, seth rogen, evan goldberg, judd apatow, stoner comedy, sisterhood of the traveling pants, sisterhood of the traveling pants 2,

There’s a certain poetic quality to the new X-Files sequel, I Want to Believe. Maybe a well-written, sense-making tour de force would have been the best possible outcome for devoted fans and new viewers alike, but then, maybe a scatterbrained, non-sequitur-laced mess of a B-movie (i.e. the actual film) is more appropriate in the long run. After all, this is an adaptation of a show that, for many years, thrived on pulling the gross and the spooky out of a thin-air budget. Perhaps we’ll see I Want to Believe on some future edition of Mystery Science Theater 3000, being lovingly excoriated by generations of righteously indignant (yet strangely affectionate) X-philes to come. For all we know, that’s what writer/director Chris Carter’s hoping for. He meant to do that. Yeah.

The foundation of many of the movie’s problems lies in the decision to make this movie, which takes place six years after the series, a stand-alone story, unrelated to the long and Byzantine arc of the show. In a certain light, starting “fresh” makes some amount of sense: only the most well-versed and persistent fans are likely to remember the details of a story that began fifteen years ago, ended six years ago, and was never all that clear to begin with. Adding new information to the old show would probably require re-working existing plot points, changing the canon of the show retroactively. Furthermore, people unfamiliar with the series are unlikely to pick up the plot so far in, and therefore also unlikely to spend $300 on a DVD box set. However, abandoning the conspiracy plot saps the series of its energy and its focus. A stand-alone X-Files movie is like James Bond without MI6, or Indiana Jones taking a vacation in Manhattan: sure, maybe those extraneous adventures exist, but there’s a reason nobody makes movies about them. Without the old gang—Cigarette-Smoking Man, Krycek, gray aliens, black oil, the evil evil government—we’re left with a garden variety organ-theft/psychic/Russian gay marriage thriller, and not even a very good one, at that. If the story’s not about the quest, what’s the point? Furthermore, if Mulder and Scully are no longer about the quest, who have they become?

The movie ultimately attempts to answer this last question, with mixed results. We catch up with Scully (now a pediatric neurosurgeon) and Mulder (now a recluse), and it’s good to see them. Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny are still appealing onscreen, and maybe a nice follow-up “a day in the lives of Mulder and Scully” would have been good for everybody. Closure, and all, like a check-up episode of a reality show. But Carter tries to scale their relationship up for the big screen, and it’s like he’s forgotten how they work: the tried-and-true dynamics of their relationship feel repetitive, and attempts at new territory come out left field. Discrete scenes between them work out fine—again, thanks to Anderson and Duchovny and the general fannish ability to enjoy good things when they come—but the sweep of their story doesn’t move them or change them or deepen what we’ve always known about them.

This is the kind of movie that people will hate to love (newcomers, critics, people with no emotional attachment to the series) and love to hate (fans; people who still resent Carter; people who love Mulder and Scully too much to notice the rest of the movie), and rightly so—it’s uneven; it doesn’t make sense; it’s hilarious in places, without meaning to be. It’s nothing to be taken seriously. Brace yourself and enjoy.

X-Files, X-Files: I Want to Believe, I Want to Believe, Chris Carter, Gillian Anderson, David Duchovny, Mulder, Scully

The scene is 2:00 a.m., May 20, 2002, a small house in Washington state. A young woman dozes on the living room sofa, remote control in hand. In the darkness, a bright light flashes. It’s a messenger from the future! What can she possibly want? The messenger’s mouth opens, and…

2008 Liz: Greetings, 2002 Liz! Do not be afraid, for I bring tidings of great joy, which shall be for all people.

2002 Liz: (Waking up, confused) Jesus? Again?

2008 Liz: Only if by “Jesus” you mean the next best thing—Mulder and Scully—and by “coming” you mean to a theater near you!

2002 Liz: But…this cannot be! For The X-Files hath just ended this very night!

2008 Liz: I tell you the truth: For six years our heroes will remain under cover of darkness, hiding in the shadows of crappy hotels, bathed only in the warm glow of their undying love and the soothing rattle of the Magic Fingers. But in the last days of the rule of Bush the Younger, a voice shall rise from the wilderness, saying, “It’s time for a stand-alone X-Files mystery, and we ain’t gettin’ any younger!”

2002 Liz: Surely you jest. For what powers would allow such a film so long after the show has lost its relevance?

2008 Liz: Behold the future, where the despot Carter recalls the glory of his faded kingdom. Spurred by nostalgia and his studio-heart’s yearning for greater DVD sales, there shall be a period of great hope and rejoicing. For Grand Vizier Spotnitz has worked his wiles for the good of the people.

2002 Liz: You don’t mean…

2008 Liz: Smoochies, without the evil menace we call “bees”!

2002 Liz: Be still my heart!

2008 Liz: And lo, the fandom will be cranky, but will descend on the theaters like locusts; the rulers will be as kings, and the fandom will be as mosquitoes satiated after a meal, even as they pull the guts of the new story apart with their sharp probosci.

2002 Liz: But who can abide such a wonderful world, where The X-Files can rise again after six/eight/nine years of darkness?

2008 Liz: Fear not, my child. For there is still plenty to fear between the rising of the sun and the setting of the moon. Two words: “Reality TV.”

Finis

X-Files, XFiles, X-Files I Want to Believe, X-Files: I Want to Believe, I Want to Believe, Mulder, Scully, Mulder and Scully, Mulder and Scully kissing, Gillian Anderson, David Duchovny, Chris Carter, Frank Spotnitz, silliness, fiction

Okay, everybody. I can’t keep this up, this parade of Hollywood manliness. You know I love Christian Bale as much as anyone, but can’t we at least talk about his chiseled jaw and sensitive eyes for a bit? We can go back to the testosterone-soaked summer lineup tomorrow; today, it’s Ladies’ Night at CHHQ. Bring on the plucky heroines and dashing young gentlemen. Give me true love preceded by silly antics and misunderstandings. I want to meet the wacky best friends and even the guy who always gets dumped, and don’t forget the pop song at the end.

Speaking of pop songs (did you like that smooooth segue?), tonight’s Fantasy Film Festival is pop-centric. All the oohing and aahing over a certain winged and pointy-eared hero has, for some, drowned out the synthesizers and enthusiastic harmonies from the weekend’s other major release, Mamma Mia!. And if you think disco-dancing Swedes don’t lend themselves to triple-header movies, you’d better stand corrected, because I’ve got not one, but three ABBA films for your viewing pleasure.

There must be a bad ABBA pun I can make here. “S.O.S.”? “Take a Chance On Me”? You get the idea. Fill it in as you see fit, but don’t forget to watch:

Mamma Mia!: You’ll have to wait a few months until it comes out on DVD, but if you’re into disco and dancing and lots of giggly wedding antics, this may be all you really need.

Muriel’s Wedding: Remember when Toni Collette was obscure? And Australian? And was hopelessly single and obsessed with ABBA, until she got married and was still kind of obsessed with ABBA? Man. Those were good days.

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert: Who knew Australia was such an ABBA-happy place? Consider this: Terence Stamp, Hugo Weaving (yes, that would be King of the Elves), and Guy Pearce, of Memento fame, as two drag queens and a transsexual on a road trip. With ABBA songs. WIN, obviously.

Fantasy film festival, film festival, disco, ABBA, abba, Mamma Mia!, Mamma Mia, Mama Mia, Muriel’s Wedding, Toni Collette, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Hugo Weaving, Terence Stamp, Guy Pearce

I know what you’re all thinking. Man, Christian Bale is a big guy. He’s a cowboy. He’s a knight. (He’s also a newsie, but forget I said anything.) He wears a kevlar suit, and swoops in on all the bad guys, and he’d beat Jack Donaghy in a talking like this contest any day of the week. But come on. When’s he going to quit pansying around Gotham City and act like a man?

Well, you’re in luck. If you’ve seen The Dark Knight, you’ve seen the teaser trailer for Bale’s next big release, and it—as Stephen Tobolowsky would say—is a dooooozy. A post-apocalyptic, post-Schwarzeneggerian doozy. A Terminator Salvation doozy. Yep, the thinking woman’s man’s man (heh) is picking up the fourth installment of one of the best, and best-loved, action series of all time.

Even better, the director (McG, whom I always thought was more accomplished than his IMDB entry indicates) keeps a blog. Want to know the details of Terminator Salvation filming drama? Check here. Apparently we’re dealing with John Connor after the nuclear holocaust (…naturally), plus an unidentified visitor from either the past or the future, and rumors of Josh Brolin taking over the role of the Terminator. You know, because the old one’s too busy not signing the budget of the state of California.

Frankly, it’s hard to believe that the Terminator series will continue to thrive. There’s got to be a Temple of Doom in there somewhere, right? Or even worse, a Jurassic Park XVIII? It seems like the odds of making a consistently excellent robot-apocalypse series seem low, especially with the number of writers and directors who’ve worked on the first three—surely there must be a difference of purpose, some inconsistency of voice and style, that will sink the whole thing? And yet here we are, with three good movies behind us and another potential winner in the offing.

You know, not that there’s any pressure, or anything. All we can say here is, good luck, McG. May the force be with you.

Don’t screw it up.

Christian Bale, Batman, The Dark Knight, Dark Knight, Newsies, 3:10 to Yuma, Reign of Fire, Terminator, Terminator 4, Terminator Salvation, McG, Josh Brolin, Stephen Tobolowsky

Remember the 90s? That mythical time when Clinton was in office, cell phones were like bricks, and future governor of California put on hockey skates, painted himself silver, and appeared in a Batman movie? What a difference a decade makes: Bush hijinks (if that’s what you can call them) and Zoolander communications aside, we’re in a new era. Comic-book movies are suddenly serious business, and the newest Batman movie, The Dark Knight, may just be the biggest and baddest (and possibly best) of them all.

The Dark Knight isn’t so much the story of Batman—Christian Bale, as Bruce Wayne/Batman, gets surprisingly little screen time—as it is the story of the Batman Universe. And what a large and complex universe it is: villains galore, a network of good guys and bad guys and in-between guys all striving for control of Gotham City. Writer/director Christopher Nolan says that he takes his material seriously, and it shows. He takes his time, building his story from the foundation up—every detail addressed, and nothing wasted, despite the length and density of the movie. Eventually, size translates to momentum, and it’s a sprint to the end.

As far as action/comic movies go, The Dark Knight is an anomaly of pacing and style: slow and precise to start, then branching into two plotlines with separate climaxes. I originally believed that this was The Joker Movie Plus Harvey Dent, and that the next Batman installment would be The Two-Face Movie. In fact, The Dark Knight covers both stories, which makes it pleasingly complex but also obnoxiously long. Nolan does have a point—a thesis by which the movie’s title becomes clear—and it’s a really good one, but it takes a long time to get there. Could the film have been divided into two movies and still retained its integrity? It’s hard to say, and it depends on the link between the Joker and Harvey Dent. Nolan could have delivered a tighter, shorter movie and given Two-Face a film of his own—more on that later—but I suspect that Nolan didn’t want a tighter, shorter movie. He’s an epic guy, and he wanted an epic movie, highlighting the direct link between the Joker and Dent’s transformation.

Whether a direct consequence of Heath Ledger’s death earlier this year, the marketing campaign for The Dark Knight has billed it as Ledger’s movie more than anybody else’s. His disheveled clown face is everywhere; there’s talk of a posthumous Oscar nomination. Ledger’s performance is indeed excellent. He’s everything you thought he would be: manic and brutal and nearly unrecognizable, absorbed by the role (except, possibly, for that telltale ripply forehead). As the movie points out, the Joker doesn’t play by the rules—by any rules, not even his own—and Ledger plays his unpredictability, unpredictability for the unpredictability’s sake, with his whole body—face, voice, asymmetrical posture, dangly limbs. Maybe this is the kind of role that inherently makes actors look good, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Ledger didn’t coast. He’s excellent and terrifying.

However, if Ledger is the front-runner in The Dark Knight, he steals the spotlight from another masterful performance, the hidden jewel of the film: Aaron Eckhart as District Attorney Harvey Dent, who later becomes the villain Two-Face. Eckhart’s an ideal choice for Dent, swinging between hero and villain with alarming ease: he is absurdly, upstandingly good-looking, milking that cleft chin for all it’s worth, but with a palpable menace just beneath the surface. Dent is probably the most interesting character in the Batman universe thus far, and Eckhart doesn’t cut any corners—he is equally believable and equally intense as both the ultimate good guy and the enraged revenge-seeker. This is another potential reason that The Dark Knight might have survived major script surgery: as it is, Eckhart gets lost in Ledger’s shuffle. In a Two-Face-centric movie, his performance might have gotten the admiration it rightly deserves.

The Dark Knight will probably go down in history as a (or possibly the) zenith of this comic-book movie renaissance: Nolan is one of the best in the business when it comes to large, dark, complicated stories, and he’s pulled out all of the stops here. This second Batman film is darker, scarier, more complex, and more emotional than any we’ve seen before, yet it also sets up the character and the universe for the next chapter. Where that next installment will go is anybody’s guess—but if this is the new road for Batman, sign us up.

Dark Knight, The Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan, Chris Nolan, Batman, Christian Bale, Joker, The Joker, Heath Ledger, Aaron Eckhart, Two-Face, Two Face, Twoface, Harvey Dent

It’s not hard to see how the original Mamma Mia! came about—how you’d go from a well-loved 78 of ABBA Gold to a Broadway musical. You’re listening, and you’re thinking, “Man, wouldn’t it be great if all of these groovy ABBA songs made a story?” And then you’re in your beanbag chair, concentrating really hard, and you write it all down in your favorite spiral notebook, and then you grow up and become a famous Broadway producer, and you finally make the ABBA musical, because…well, because how can you not?

It’s not as easy to see exactly how the Mamma Mia! movie happened, how the flattish story and unconnected plot points made it to two hours on the big screen. Except that, well, everybody loves ABBA. Don’t they? We’ll make an exception for people who don’t like harmonies and hooks, and for people who don’t like silly dancing, and for people who don’t like Swedes, but then, we don’t really want to hang out with those people anyway. Everyone in Hollywood must love ABBA, because here we are. Wouldn’t you have loved to have seen those pitch meetings? I mean, come on.

So, nothing much happens? Correct. Character arcs don’t make any sense? Not really, no. Pierce Brosnan makes silly faces when he sings? Absolutely. If these are things that bother you, go see Space Chimps instead (or, better, learn to blame the musical). If you’re ready to put things like “depth of character” (pish!) and “realistic relationships” (tosh!) behind you, get thee to a multiplex, and bring your tallest shoes—platforms, obviously; what is this, Sex and the City?

Because this movie is all about the silliness and the music and the dancing, and in those areas, it excels. Just try not to fall in love with this particular rendition of “Dancing Queen”—it’s one of the best moments, sweet and funny and infectious and inspiring in a way that doesn’t totally make sense, which is maybe one of the hallmarks of a great musical. And maybe Meryl Streep wasn’t totally necessary here, but she’s always a welcome addition; she comes on a little strong—“manic hippie” suits her disturbingly well—and pulls her own weight musically, though she’s no virtuoso (virtuosa?). Of the three potential (former and future) love interests, Colin Firth is by far the least ridiculous, because he plays the guitar and can actually sing; Brosnan looks pained, and what’s happened to Stellan Skarsgard over the last decade is unclear. But it doesn’t matter: they’re there, and they’re shaking their things, and it is funny and sexy-ish, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into. And anyway they’re eclipsed by Christine Baranski and Julie Walters, scene-stealers both, and so all is forgiven. It seems like only the lovely future-mega-star Amanda Seyfried is playing the straight woman, but she’s up to the job (not that she can’t play silly; she does, after all have psychic boobs). It’s big and it’s rollicking and it might cause you—or others—to jump up and dance around the theater.

And THAT is when, as a musical producer, you know you’ve won.

Mamma Mia!, Mamma Mia, Mama Mia, ABBA, Abba, Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, Stellan Skaarsgard, Amanda Seyfried, Christine Baranski, Julie Walters, musicals, movie reviews

Can we talk for a minute about The Dark Knight? Actually, no. Not so much The Dark Knight. Let’s talk about the Joker. Let’s talk about how he’s everywhere, and how he’s FREAKING ME OUT.

Even before Heath Ledger’s death, this was his movie. Early production chatter and photos have been circulating on the internet since day one—practically since Batman Begins—and the spotlight of The Dark Knight has never been on Batman (Christian Bale). The buzz has always been that Ledger’s Joker is a Joker for the ages, a Joker true to the comic tradition, the Joker that will wipe Jack Nicholson from our collective consciousness. Since Ledger’s death, the chorus has only grown louder and (pardon my cynicism) more obvious in its lobbying for a posthumous Oscar. Bale doesn’t even appear on the posters anymore; even if he wasn’t originally, Batman has become a supporting role in his own movie.

As the Joker-ly fawning has increased, of course, so have audience expectations. The predictions for this Joker are astronomical, and the teaser clips are promising (which is a relief—how awkward would it be if they weren’t?). Ledger is scary. His hair is stringy; his haphazard clown face is strangely unsettling. He neither looks nor sounds like himself—the Joker’s voice is reedy and deliberate (even without the trademark laugh), whereas Ledger’s was low and mumbly. Where the old Nicholson Joker was over-the-top dapper, this new Joker is a mess, but that only makes him scarier. He looks, if not real, exactly, at least plausible. You know, in a serial-killer kind of way.

This is no To See Or Not To See; Cinema Hype wouldn’t miss this. It’s new Chris Nolan Batman; it’s Bale (my personal favorite Batman); it’s Maggie Gyllenhaal instead of Katie Holmes. Even without scary posthumous Oscar-bait Ledger, we’d be there, and with scary posthumour Oscar-bait Ledger, sign us UP. We might just, you know, hang out in the back. With our fingers in our ears. And leave the lights on for a few nights. You won’t judge, will you?

The Dark Knight, Dark Knight, Heath Ledger, Joker, The Joker, villains, Christian Bale, Batman, Oscar, Academy Award, posthumous Oscar, Christopher Nolan, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Katie Holmes, Jack Nicholson

Man, you guys. What a week we’ve got, film-wise. So much to look foward to: Drama! Suspense! Random bursts of musical hilarity! What have we got? The Dark Knight? Transsiberian? Mamma Mia!?

Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog. OBVIOUSLY.

Teaser from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog on Vimeo.

Today’s a big day for Whedonites and possibly for the internet film “industry” alike–on this auspicious Tuesday, writer/director/cult deity Joss Whedon brings big names to the small, small screen in the form of Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog, his three-act musical short film, and just might jump-start a nascent corner of online movie-making and movie-watching.

For Whedon fans, this is a crumb of sustenance to stave off starvation between Serenity, his last big-screen release, and Dollhouse, his ridiculously well-hyped series on FOX, due out this winter (pre-fans are already pre-planning to pre-save it, natch). It’s got everything fans of Buffy, Angel, and Firefly require: thrilling heroics (or possibly thrilling antiheroics), Nathan Fillion’s very existence, and a satisfyingly non-network-related venue on which to definitely not be cancelled.

Dr. Horrible is also something of a red-letter event for the less Whedon-obsessed, or at least it should be. It’s not that nobody’s ever made a movie for the internet before; it’s more that nobody with any name recognition has ever made a non-advertising-related film for the internet and had anybody actually watch it. The final product is short—eighteen minutes total—but it’s a precedent. Will other writers and directors ditch the studios and turn to the internet to fulfill their own creative visions? If there’s enough money—both in funding and in capital—maybe. And that could be the dawn of a new age.

Look for Dr. Horrible in three installations: Act I today, July 15; Act II on Thursday, July 17; and Act III on Saturday, July 19. All three acts will stream for free until midnight on July 20 and will later be available for download and on DVD.

Dr. Horrible, Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-long Blog, short film, Joss Whedon, Nathan Fillion, Neil Patrick Harris, musicals, Buffy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly, Serenity

Now, this is just too much.

Robert Downey Jr. has been doing so well for himself the last few years—he’s clean, he’s rebuilt his resume with a slate of critically acclaimed and financially successful films, and he was the much-adored, not-really-beating heart of the summer’s most popular movie thus far. But this? This is going to be more awesome than we at CH HQ can really handle: Downey to star as Sherlock Holmes.

I mean, really. Parallels of drug use aside, who is wryer, dryer, and less sentimental than Downey? Who would you rather have solving your case, pointing out your most embarrassing secrets based on the condition of your shirtsleeves (and using the word “shirtsleeves”), whatever they may be? Nobody else has been cast for the film, but then nobody else really needs to be cast, do they? Holmes. Downey. Brilliant.

Incidentally, the Downey Holmes’s October filming date places it before another upcoming Sherlock Holmes adaptation, one that’s offbeat but also potentially excellent, cast-wise: say what you will about Will Ferrell as Dr. Watson, but Sacha Baron Cohen as Holmes (directed by Guy Ritchie) might be worth a look. Cohen certainly knows how to disappear into a role (very single one of his acting awards for Borat was perfectly justified), and he’s got a certain way with a few demographics that might not normally flock to see Victorian mysteries: teenagers and men, aged 18–20. Depending on how the Downey adaptation turns out—drama-to-hilarity ratio—maybe these two movies can bring us all together. It’s a Holmesian revolution! Mystery for all! We can keep our eyes open and see what we can see.

Sherlock Holmes, Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert Downey Jr., Sacha Baron Cohen, Dr. Watson, Watson, Will Ferrell, upcoming movies

My ten-year high school reunion has been cancelled. Or maybe it never existed. Either way, my surprising desire to find a show-offy dress and pay $50 to revisit the Benicia High School class of 1998 has been squashed, and all too soon.

It’s too bad, really. I made a pact with a friend that we’d go together. She even has a built-in date, and she still said she’d come with me. We were just dying to show up and tell everybody that we invented Wite-Out (Post-Its being taken, obviously), only to be caught in our web of lies and, as a result, create our own fashion line. You know, like Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion? Anyone? Bueller? Ah, well. I guess we’ll have to save our plans for the twenty-year.

It’s too bad that Romy and Michele never picked up much of a cult following, as far as I can tell; the average “I’m the Mary! I’M THE MARY!” reference just doesn’t get the same recognition as a garden-variety “I think I’ve got the black lung, Pop.” You’d think the smart-girl demographic would have picked it up somewhere between Troop Beverly Hills and, say, Mean Girls, but it seems to have been wrongly relegated to Saturday Afternoon TNT Land (as opposed to Saturday Evening TBS Land, which is a gold mine, though I suppose those with lives might see things differently). The truth is that these blondes have been unfairly maligned, or at least ignored–they’re smarter than they look, with a plot and some actual jokes and a pleasingly silly perspective on the eighties, as well as a killer ballet rendition of “Time After Time.” Who doesn’t love “Time After Time”?

And so I’m here to say: Come on! Love the shiny dresses with marabou trim! Revel in the mean, popular girls getting their comeuppance! Order the Businesswoman Special! If you don’t have your own high school reunion, you can at least attend Romy and Michele’s. I think I will.

Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion, Lisa Kudrow, Mira Sorvino, Time After Time, reunions, high school reunions, Troop Beverly Hills, Mean Girls

Tonight, CH HQ stands silent and empty. Silenter and emptier, anyway. College roommate, partner in crime, and all-around freakishly close friend Al has been living (appropriately) in my living room for the last nine days, and now she’s gone. Al and I met on our freshman camping trip, just like the college brochure said we would, and bonded over a mutual love of The X-Files and…well, that’s about it. But the Mulder Connection can’t have been too bad; that fateful day hike to Dungeness Spit was nearly ten years ago, and she’s still my favorite dumb-conversation partner and road-trip buddy.

So wouldn’t you all like our filmic highlights? Of course you would.

When Harry Met Sally: I say this not because it’s our shared favorite movie or because we’ve seen it eleventy thousand times (though it is and we have), but because of Sally’s best friend Marie (Carrie Fisher), who probably taught us both to say, “You’re right. You’re right. I know you’re right.”

Bring It On: Public service announcement: When you and your roommate find yourselves at the video store, and you want to rent an overrated “dance” movie about a boy who hates boxing, and your roommate wants to get a cheerleading movie with the finest opening sequence in all of filmdom, and many excellent moments throughout, GO WITH THE CHEERLEADERS. (Addendum: Still working her magic, Al bought me Bring It On: All or Nothing for Christmas. Let me say that it is no competition for the original, but it is fabulous nonetheless, both ironically and kind of genuinely. How many “critically acclaimed” “theatrical releases” can say that?)

I Love Lucy: Okay, not a movie. But if we’re going with screen friends, nobody’s got our vibe more than Lucy and Ethel—the famous chocolate-factory scene? We could totally do that, and more. Just ask us about the time we locked her car in a parking garage overnight. Constant fun, we two.

Charlie’s Angels: Why are there so few girl-buddy movies these days? Don’t friendships come in pairs anymore, or has the bathroom-pack instinct spread? Anyway, Al and I saw this movie at least twice in the theater, and I completely believe that she could execute a Lucy Liu roundhouse kick on any troublemakers. Either that, or she’d poke them in the boob. True story.

Keeping the Faith: I had it wrong before. We’re not Lucy and Ethel, we’re Brian Finn and Jake Schram! Except that we’re girls. And neither Catholic nor Jewish. But, you know. We’re FRIENDS. We WORK TOGETHER. Do you see where I’m going, here? Stop being so detail-y, you.

See you soon, Al. The air mattress awaits, always.

friendship, friendship movies, friends, movies, When Harry Met Sally, Bring It On, Bring It On: All or Nothing, I Love Lucy, Lucy and Ethel, Charlie’s Angels, Lucy Liu, Keeping the Faith

BEEP!

Sorry for the long absence, folks–technical difficulties at the mother ship. It’s a relief to be back up, but please bear with CHHQ just a little longer, as I’m on vacation through the end of the weekend. I’ll be back and in fine posting form Monday, July 7. See you then!