Cinema Hype

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!

Just in case you couldn’t tell—you’ve been living in a Luddite community, say, or have been trapped under something heavy in the recent past—2008 may be the Year of the Superhero. Or, if studio news is to be believed, it’s just the birth of an era. Either way, you know where we’re going with this. Flight! Super-strength! Insect fluid shooting conveniently from wrists! Lassos of truth!

But no superhero is all superhero. There’s got to be a person in there, someone for the rest of us, in all our ordinariness, to connect with. Otherwise, as much as we fawn over flawless CGI and effortless action, we frankly don’t care. Which is why I bring you, today, Cinema Hype’s Top Five Superhero Film Alter Egos. (Not a very elegant name. Maybe titling and acronyms aren’t my power; I’m more of a spelling prodigy. Can I have a cape?)

1. Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark, Iron Man
He’s not square of jaw or deep of voice, but that’s exactly the point. Downey’s weathered persona and wry line delivery make him the ideal counterpoint to big-chested heroes and nice-guy alter egoes like Clark Kent and Peter Parker, and possibly—time will tell—one of the best-loved alter egos of all time.

2. Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne, Batman Begins
Maybe Christopher Nolan’s script gave him the extra boost previous Batmen didn’t have, but Bale’s Wayne is deftly balanced between the wounded soul and the playboy aristocrat, lifting him above all other modern Batmen (Michael, Val, and even Intern George). Bale’s got gravitas, or maybe just a self-destructive streak. Either way, it works.

3. William H. Macy as the Shoveler, Mystery Men
Yes, Hank Azaria’s funnier in costume. And yes, his power—talent, whatever you want to call it—is unusual. But he shovels well. He shovels very well.

4. Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker, Spider-Man
Peter Parker’s the nice-guy alter ego we were talking about earlier, and he really sells it just to the limits of attractiveness. Sure, he follows Mary Jane around when she totally doesn’t deserve it—more puppy than spider—but he’s brilliant, loyal, and brave. So, so lovable.

5. Violet Parr, The Incredibles
Every girl is Violet at some point in her life—wanting to be invisible and wanting to be seen, all at the same time; the only difference is that Violet Parr can actually turn invisible. Voiced by the very smart and very funny Sarah Vowell, she’s a great representation of adolescence and of the promise of the end of adolescence, and let’s face it: she could totally take Wonder Woman.

Top Five, superheroes, alter egos, alter egoes, Iron Man, Ironman, Robert Downey Jr., Tony Stark, Batman, Batman Begins, Christian Bale, Bruce Wayne, William H. Macy, The Shoveler, Mystery Men, Tobey Maguire, Spider-Man, Spiderman, Violet Parr, The Incredibles, Sarah Vowell

A lot of people seem to be talking today about this New York Times story comparing the first American Girl movie, Kit Kittredge: An American Girl to Sex and the City: The Movie. It seems the two have a few points in common, from shared punctuation to the financial failure (and subsequent dissolution by Time Warner) of the studios that made them. Both could be considered chick flicks, though the chicks in question may vary wildly (or not; ostensibly, some Sex and the City viewers will also accompany children to Kit). They both have the potential to draw very specific, but very lucrative, niche markets. But in the middle of all this, one question remains: do girls actually need a Sex and the City of their very own?

I would argue that, while need is an awfully strong word, the answer is yes. Nobody’s condoning Samantha Jones joining the Big Sisters/Big Brothers—that’s a kind of education most kids won’t need for awhile yet—but pretty much all adolescent and pre-adolescent girls could use positive models of female friendship. And if there’s an example of women being there for each other, celebrating and confiding and fighting and making up and ultimately showing up when it counts, it’s Sex and the City.

And that’s the thing: before they hit High School Musical and the first half of Mean Girls, where the world revolves around Zac Efron and, well, mean girls, girls could use something that’s just about girls—about how to tell a friend the honest truth, about how friendships change and grow, about girls having adventures, about how sometimes hanging out with the girls is really the best medicine. And when you take away the Manolos and the constant stream of good-looking men—they’re secondary anyway—that’s what you’ve got in Sex and the City. Lots of other pre-teen girl movies are strikingly individual, from girl sleuths to random animal movies. This is something different, something striking and specific: girls in groups succeeding because they’re in groups. This is gives a whole new meaning to the term Girl World.

Kit isn’t the first tween-girls-against-the-world movie, just like Sex and the City isn’t the first women-against-the-world movie—but there are fewer of the former than you’d think. If they’re willing to make some use of the Wayback Machine, today’s pre-adolescents could check out Troop Beverly Hills or Now and Then, and maybe The Parent Trap (original or re-make; take your pick), but after that it’s all post-puberty. Even The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, a mainstay of the pre-Steel Magnolias set (with a sequel coming out this summer), starts at age 15. Maybe tween girls don’t have the spending power of their older sisters, though Hannah Montana and her sisters seem to prove otherwise. Maybe they’re just not interesting without the promise of any kind of romance. Maybe tween girls in groups are just too hard to wrangle on set (don’t think I don’t know; I was eleven once, myself). Who knows? But it seems like a few more girl-power movies for the younger set might not be such a bad plan.

After all, we can save them Cosmopolitans for later.

Sex and the City, Sex in the City, Kit Kittredge: An American Girl, Kit Kittredge, American Girl, American Girls, Abigail Breslin, chick flicks

NOTE: THIS POST CONTAINS MAJOR, SERIOUS, SURPRISE-RUINING-TYPE SPOILERS FOR INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED.

Let me get this out there: I really liked the new Indy movie. It was fast, it was fun, it was totally ridiculous in places, all of which I’ve come to expect from the Lucas-Spielberg-Ford triumvirate and their jaunty hat and whip. I especially liked the 20-minute jungle boat-car chase—you know, as you do—and the way that Shia LaBeouf managed to be kind of charming instead of head-smackingly obnoxious. Well played, all.

But I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Say what you will, focus on the sweet motorcycle chase or the “I have a bad feeling about this” moment, but eventually it’s going to come out: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is an alien movie. Lots of people seem to be avoiding the truth, but it’s there. Those are some seriously elongated heads and some seriously big eyes, people.

Now, to those still reeling, I’d like to offer some help. Some support for those still adjusting their schema, if you will. Here are three reasons we should not be surprised about the aliens:

1. Steven Spielberg. If anybody is obsessed with aliens in the movies, it’s this guy. Hello? Close Encounters of the Third Kind? E.T.? Twilight Zone: The Movie? Give this man an “I Want to Believe” poster and get it over with.

2. The scene inside the throne room or captains’ bridge or whatever you’d call it was very 21st century, what with all the melding and universal consciousness and CGI trickery. But the idea is sheer 1950s—recall the beginning of the movie, where nuclear testing, Cold War paranoia, and alien visitation is the name of the game. An older Indy places us smack in the middle of that scenario, and Lucas ran with it, to good effect, I think. If Raiders of the Lost Ark was a reference to the serials of the 1930s, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a reaction to the post-Roswell world. Little green men are the logical choice, here.

3. Only something like this could get the X-Files fans in the audience suitably riled up before the big day of July 25. (Oh, come on. Don’t lie. You know you inserted Mulder into that scene, too. “Scullyyyyyyyyy!”)

See? It’s a tough process, but you’ll get there. Acceptance can be yours. Just go with it.

Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Raiders of the Lost Ark, X-Files, The X-Files, I Want to Believe, Fox Mulder, Steven Spielberg, aliens, alien movies

All right, I’ll admit it. If the monthlong gap between Project 501 posts hasn’t been enough of a tip-off, you should know: I’ve been putting off The Life of Emile Zola. In the long parade of Best Picture winners, French writers’ biopics are like the local-business floats: you know they’re coming, but you’re not really all that excited about them. Luckily for me—and I really should learn this lesson someday—Zola easily surpassed my expectations. This is no insurance company banner. We’re talking high-school drill team, at least.

The most striking thing about Zola is how relevant it is, even—or especially—today; it’s full of dialogue that could easily come straight from current American news footage. Public discourse on the acceptability of torture? Deep animosity between a shady government and an inconveniently nosy press corps? A military bent on denying responsibility, headed by a leader blinded by his own personal authority? Any of this sounding familiar?

As a biopic, Zola isn’t all that complete or all that effective: aside from his ascent from starving writer to national voice and his touching friendship with his artsy roommate, some guy called Paul Cezanne, director William Dieterle glosses over Zola’s personal life. As a courtroom drama, however, it’s pretty fantastic: the retelling of the Dreyfus affair, in which Zola purposefully had himself arrested and tried in order to clear the name of a Jewish soldier wrongly exiled, is far more interesting than anything going on in the Zola household. The coverage of Zola’s trial is long and loving, complete with plenty of corrupt and politicized judicial action, some truly hilarious judges’ uniforms, and an appropriately satisfying final speech by Zola (Paul Muni) himself. The crowd in the courtroom is rowdy, hooting and hollering and crying out when anything happens, but they’re a great representative of the real-life audience: this is dramatic and emotional, the kind of thing that deserves the attention and the buy-in of the people. Even considering the few cheesy touches Dieterie works in (personal favorite: the camera panning from Zola’s face to an enormous painting of the crucifixion of Jesus), the movie is enough of an emotional force that it works.

Good on you, 1937 Academy voters.

Next up: You Can’t Take it With You (1938)! For more on Project 501, click here; to read past Project 501 posts, click here.

The Life of Emile Zola, Project 501, Best Picture winners, Oscar winners, You Can’t Take It With You

It seems to me that May 2 was a perfect, and perfectly metaphorical, release date for Iron Man. Aside from rescuing us all from the movie wasteland that was spring of 2008 (and thank goodness for that), this is a movie that’s trying to have things both ways: character and action, exposition and explosions, hero’s journey and summer blockbuster. Maybe, in the end, the movie can’t have it all, but it sure makes a good effort.

If anything, the movie errs a little on the side of seriousness: the first half of the film is almost pure plot and character, with surprisingly little of the flying and shooting we’ve come to expect. Director Jon Favreau starts things off with a bang, literally (to stave off Ang Lee Hulk-itis), and then hits the brakes, cutting back in time to introduce the audience to Robert Downey Jr. as our hero, Tony Stark. It’s not boring—electromagnet in the heart, terrorists, some fancy work with an iron forge, etc.—but there’s a lot of set-up; Iron Man as we come to know him doesn’t even appear until somewhere around the halfway point. It’s a risky move, exposing us to all that careful narration and character development (!), but it works because Favreau knows what he has in Downey: a stellar alter ego. Tony Stark is the kind of role Downey was born to play, and has played so well in so many movies over the years. He’s snarky and mildly tortured, with a heart of (electromagnetized) gold beating underneath, and just watching him and his pitch-perfect line delivery makes the delayed gratification of the Iron Man suit totally worth it. And after that halfway turning point, well, all bets are off: let the clanking, zooming shoot-em-up begin!

It’s not just the Iron Man movie that’s straddling a few fences. Iron Man himself is a bit of an amalgam of some of his more famous super-buddies, combining Batman’s wealthy-playboy alter ego and reliance on a suit (i.e. no actual super-powers) with Spider-Man’s philosophy regarding great power and great responsibility. The latter is, in fact, the backbone of the movie—Iron Man has always been political (he started out as an anti-Communist superhero in 1963) and he’s now been brought into the 21st century, specifically post-9/11 Afghanistan. In the end, Tony Stark is the kind of guy we all wish were really behind the U.S. weapons trade: a patriot with a passion for truth and transparency, somebody who embraces both the perks and the ultimate weight of his position. The movie does an interesting job of combining the comics’ tradition of patriotism with the postmodern Hollywood tendency towards pacifism (except, of course, where urban action scenes are concerned).

Iron Man is only one of several comic-book movies in the last decade to attempt something deeper than pure escapist entertainment (see Batman Begins), but it’s certainly a role model for future adaptations, especially if audiences get used to a certain level of sophistication. And, well, it really is a little bit of rocket science.

Iron Man, Iron Man reviews, Ironman, Robert Downey Jr., Jon Favreau, comic books, comic book movies, Marvel Comics, Marvel Universe

So, it looks like George Clooney’s thinking about switching sides of the camera on a permanent basis.

To this I say: 1) Aww, George, you’re so sweet and self-deprecating. Tired of seeing you in front of the camera? We love you for thinking of us, but really. You don’t have to worry. 2) I guess it’s not such a bad idea, if that’s what you want.

See, here’s the story: in my high-school years, my friends and I went to several concerts featuring a band who will remain nameless. The requisite Band Hottie was named Kevin, and during the concerts, the crowd would pepper the band with shouts of “We love you, Kevin!” from the audience (which now seems kind of insensitive to the other guys, but whatever. Kevin was hot). Now, whether out of a sense of propriety or or a genuine distaste for his looks (…yeah) or just a desire to be different, my group started a tradition of shouting, “We appreciate your music, Kevin!” Not just a pretty face, you know? We were waaaay ahead of our time. Trust me.

This is how I feel about George. I see that he’s attractive. I agree that he’s attractive. But mostly, I like what he does and I like the way he behaves (and I want him to give me a job, especially if it’s alongside John Krasinski. Introduce us, George?). So, although I love Ulysses Everett McGill and all further Clooney roles, I think I’d be just as happy with his directing work as I am with his acting. He’ll still be all suave and debonair on the red carpet, so it’s not like he’ll disappear completely. And that’s really all I need.

In related news, don’t forget Leatherheads! Out this weekend at a theater near you! I’ll be there (at my theater, not necessarily at yours).

George Clooney, Leatherheads, John Krasinski

April 1st is a big day for movie blogs. It’s almost expected: “Damon and Affleck sign on for Police Academy XIII!” and that kind of thing. (CH scrupulously avoided such tomfoolery, and by “scrupulously avoided” I mean “totally flaked.” And anyway, I’m a terrible liar, even in print or pixel or whatever it is we’re calling it.) The worst thing is, though, that sometimes real, honest-to-goodness casting news slips through on April 1st, only to be roundly mocked.

And so, in the spirit of the day, I give you a few announcements (past and present) that should have been April Fools Day jokes…but weren’t:

Travolta, Whitaker Bring Scientology’s Roots to Big Screen!

Ricci to Don Pig Nose for Penelope

…Someone (?) Makes Deaf Vampire Movie Entirely in ASL

Denise Richards Earns Fake Ph.D. for Bond Film

Michael Jackson to Make Film, Grab Crotch

Hulk Hogan to Ditch Sleeves on Santa’s Suit to Better Show Off Guns

And one more, opening this month:

Morgan Spurlock to Ditch McDonalds, Find Bin Laden

Here’s to April, folks.

April Fools Day, April Fool’s Day, April Fools’ Day

Scene: CH Headquarters. Early afternoon. Sun streams in the window; the TV is paused and has been for some time. LIZ reclines on the sofa, typing on laptop.

Liz: Pop music and Moulin Rouge…surprisingly effective…clickity clackity…

Tivo: I will not be ignored! Someone Like You must either be recorded or watched in real time! DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU. This program will self-destruct in five…four…three…two…

Liz: Oh, fine. [Pushes play. Movie on screen resumes.] I can totally write with this on in the background. I’m a woman of the twenty-first century! I have forsaken Christine and taken Multi-tasking as my legal middle name!

Ashley Judd: I am sooo cute! Don’t you miss my short, sassy hair and my charming and recognizably crazy ways?

Liz: Yes, but I’m not watching you right now. I’m writing about Moulin Rouge, remember? So could you keep it down over there? [Beat] That’s better. Let’s see: whatever happened to Baz Luhrmann, anyway? Clickity clackity.

Hugh Jackman: I look amazing in a black t-shirt.

Liz: I know. And you probably sing better than Ewan McGregor, too, but don’t distract…hey, you know, you’re kind of a jerk. I think Ashley Judd’s right about you. Always looking for a new cow to satisfy the biological imperative to sow your seed!

Hugh: Gotcha.

Liz: No. No you didn’t. You are always looking for a new cow, but good old Ewan just wants his old cow to not die of consumption. So there. Why don’t you sing?

Hugh: I’m Manly Hugh in this movie. Sorry.

Ashley: Isn’t my Burberry coat totally cute? Though it seems that I also own a satin evening coat, and who does that? Anyway, I would say men are pigs, but actually they’re more like bulls. Same difference.

Liz: No! Ashley, they’re not. Or maybe they are, because it definitely seems like Hugh is a bull, but you’re obviously going to end up together anyway, which is confusing since, let’s face it, he’s the man in this movie most likely to break your heart after it’s over. But, you know, I’m ignoring you and writing about Nicole Kidman’s porcelain complexion instead. [sings] Ignooooring you…

Hugh: Put the laptop down.

Liz: No. I’ll never join you!

Hugh: …or you could just turn us off.

Liz: No, because Ashley might choose the wrong guy if I’m not here to supervise.

Ashley: You’re right. I might.

Liz: See?

Hugh: Fine. What were you writing about, again?

Liz: ….

Hugh: Told you.

Liz: Okay. But I am NOT WRITING ABOUT YOU INSTEAD. [puts laptop down]

Hugh: I totally should have worn leather pants in this movie. Get it? Leather pants?

And….scene.

Someone Like You, Tivo, Moulin Rouge

I’ve got to hand it to Justin Timberlake: somewhere between ditching Britney and making me dance around my living room, he’s gone and become a movie star. Or, well, a star who’s in movies, anyway.

I think it all started with having a sense of humor, which isn’t such a bad place to start, and which is frankly a bit of a rare commodity around the male pop/R&B circuit. Someone must have said to him, “Hey, J, how about ‘Dick in a Box?’” A few good turns around Saturday Night Live and a few thousand Youtube hits later, suddenly there was Alpha Dog and Black Snake Moan—expanding his repertoire to “Southern/California rough,” apparently—and now he’s got a legitimate IMDB profile and everything. This year I kind of expect him and his blond afro wig to be the only good things about The Love Guru, and he’s signed on to a road drama with Jeff Bridges. These are, like, real movies in real theaters. I did not expect this.

And to this I say, good on you, Justin Timberlake. Yes, I may have mocked you before, but that was in college, when we were both young and foolish (you: the Cameron years; me: an unfortunate Dave Matthews phase), and in my own defense, some of your colleagues deserved it. Now we’re both grown up and I feel that we’ve reached an understanding: you make music I can sing to in the shower, and I confess that you’re a legitimately talented pop star. I may even see a movie of yours one of these days, if you play your cards right. In any case, I’ll stand by and be suitably impressed with your quiet but consistent career growth. Deal? Deal.

I’m glad we had this little heart-to-heart.

I was talking with Sarah the other day, and we fell into one of those really important conversations in the life of a friendship—you know, you’re talking about the meaning of life or the presence or absence of a deity in the universe, and without warning, the subject turns to something truly integral. Something like actors with naturally great hair. We’re not talking about Ryan Seacrest, here; these are the guys who wake up in the morning like it’s their job to awe us with the luxuriance, shine, and general touchability of their hair. These are the guys who should be on Pantene commercials, all, “Don’t hate me because I use conditioner.” These are guys like:

Matthew Perry:

Has recovered from the mid-90s floppiness nicely. Older Matt Perry goes for spiky but unassuming. Quirky, yet mature. We like. CH Official TV Girlfriend (and Matt Perry Official Actual Girlfriend) Lauren Graham agrees.

John Corbett:

A paragon of great 90s “hey, it’s not the 80s anymore, and don’t I look comfortingly/unnervingly like Jesus?” hair who also pulls off the short look nicely (see Aidan, Sex and the City). Never mind that he tries to look like Chuck Norris in all recent photographs. (Don’t we all?)

Naveen Andrews*:

Such luxuriance! Such length! Such manly ponytails! Andrews has such perfect ringlets that half of the Lost commentaries are dedicated to a play-by-play of his hair (whether this also reflects on his acting has yet to be determined).

Joseph Gordon-Levitt:

Set the bar high (as the long-haired boy on 3rd Rock from the Sun); has since gone (hotly) shaggy (for Brick) and (again, hotly) super-short for something else, and pulls it all off. He’s like one of those girls who looks great in everything, only he’s a guy and we’re talking about haircuts.

Seth Rogen:

Kind of ironic that a guy with this much hair has a name so close to “Rogaine,” isn’t it? He probably could have made some money off of that. Too bad his name isn’t Harry.

Gael Garcia Bernal:

GGB’s hair is like the Philip Seymour Hoffman of hair, melding seamlessly with the mood of the day, and always with that air of “oh, yeah, I just woke up” insouciance. Maybe his hair will someday win an Oscar? One hopes.

So that’s the starter list. Thoughts? Additions?

*Do we believe that Naveen Andrews rolls out of bed each morning with perfect ringlets? Not really. But he could. And that’s enough.

actors’ hair, actors’ hairstyles, hairstyles, guys with great hair, matthew perry, lauren graham, john corbett, joseph gordon-levitt, seth rogen, gael garcia bernal, naveen andrews

It’s hard to say anything really bad, these days, about a romantic comedy that tries to do something different. This is a genre built on an established structure, for sure, but sometimes what hangs on that structure is decidedly lacking: boring, not funny, not romantic, utterly nonsensical (i.e. Wimbledon, which was—surprise!—written also written by Adam Brooks). Anybody who’s willing to take a good hard look at romantic comedy, put some thought into it, and come out with a decent script should be commended. Definitely, Maybe is a romantic comedy that tries to bend the rules and makes it work…sort of. It acknowledges and promptly dispenses with a few conventions; it brings the genre closer to what actual people might experience; it also fails to leave much of an impression. Basically, it’s better than it looks and not as good as it could have been.

The facts (as we know them) are these: after a sex-ed class at school, a young girl named Maya (the lovely and talented Abigail Breslin) demands to know how her soon-to-be-divorced parents met. The girl’s father, Will (Ryan Reynolds), agrees to tell her the story, but won’t tell her which of his three previous girlfriends ends up being the woman she knows as her mother—if she’s so smart, he says, she can figure it out on her own. Most of the movie takes place in flashbacks as Will’s love life unfolds, bouncing back and forth between the three women, with the Clinton administration (and the rest of the 90s) as a surprisingly interesting backdrop. Who is Maya’s mother? And how can the movie have a happy ending when we already know that the romance doesn’t? These are things that both Maya and the audience have to sit tight to find out.

The best thing about Definitely, Maybe is the way it acts out its own thesis. Love is messy and complicated, the movie tells us, and even the story of love is full of meanderings, criss-crosses, and u-turns. Here there are not one, but three convincing love interests, who come and go and loop around again, a little differently each time. There are flashbacks, pauses, rewinds and fast-forwards, clues and red herrings, places where romantic-comedy tradition holds and places where it breaks down completely. There’s a lot going on, and it’s not always organized quite like you’d think. It’s refreshing to see a romantic comedy with so much going on and so much willingness to be a little ungainly. The downside here, of course, is inherent: a messy, complicated movie about love may be truthful, but it’s still a messy, complicated movie.

Definitely, Maybe succeeds mostly in showing the ebb and flow of life and love over a period of time, the unexpected turns and the ways people and their needs and desires change. It’s a patient movie that, because of the mystery element, promises a payoff to those willing to stick around, and the ending doesn’t disappoint. On the other hand, it’s a tad frustrating: as true as the major themes are, and as convincingly as it plays out, there’s not much in this movie that pops. It’s not particularly funny; the dialogue meanders; as a main character, Will is just the tiniest bit bland. And maybe that’s the way it has to be. Maybe, in writer/director Adam Brooks’s world, snappy dialogue and smarter humor would undermine the complexity and chaotic feel of the movie—but probably not. It seems like a little punch-up might make this from a pretty good movie to a really good movie.

Definitely Maybe, Ryan Reynolds, Abigail Breslin, movie reviews, romantic comedies, romantic comedy

Well, that’s over. The day of—depending who you ask—love and affection or chocolate and bitterness has come and gone, for better or for worse. And we at CH escaped with barely a scratch: a cupcake here, a card from mom there, a few friends over for the evening. But movies? In the movies, it’s always the day of love. So much romance! Someone’s always falling in love, always rubbing it in, whether it’s the utterly satisfying to a subtle and well-crafted love story or two siblings who just don’t know which way is up. And so, since we are nothing if not dutiful about exploring cinema (and the hype surrounding said cinema), we’d like to present the good, the bad, and the ugly of movie romance.

Best Movie Kisses, Guaranteed, No Really:

1. Renee Zellweger and Colin Firth, Bridget Jones’s Diary
I stand firm on this, the Platonic (but clearly not platonic) movie kiss. So perfect.

2. Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher, The Empire Strikes Back
He’s a scoundrel and she’s Her Worshipfulness, but they’re in looooove.

3. Robin Wright (Penn?) and Cary Elwes, The Princess Bride
“Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. The End.”

4. Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom, Pirates of the Caribbean
This one’s really a double nominee: How cute are they at the end of Curse of the Black Pearl, when they’re all young and innocent and running on the adrenaline of screwing the Man? But then there’s the swordfight/wedding kiss in At World’s End, and clearly we can’t leave that out. What’s a girl to do but include them both?

5. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal, When Harry Met Sally
One of the finest romantic comedies ever written, easy. Also one of the best kisses? You decide.

PDA That Could Have Been a Little Less P:

1. Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst, Spider-Man
It’s like she’s kissing Ziggy.

2. Jon Heder and Jenna Fischer, Blades of Glory
Bad on purpose, and totally effective. Heh.

3. Zach Braff and Natalie Portman, Garden State
We at CH love a good sappy kiss, but this…this will make your blood turn to syrup. In a bad way. With the garbage bags, and the little hug? Ugh.

4. Kirsten Dunst and Jesse Bradford, Bring It On
It’s hard to articulate why this one’s so off-putting, but trust us. Is the Kirsten Dunst theme indicative of anything, we wonder?

5. Mark Hamill and Princess Leia, The Empire Strikes Back
They know not what they do. But we know, and that’s enough.

Happy February 15, Day of Leftover Chocolate, everyone.

Valentine’s Day, movies, romance movies, kisses, movie kisses

Dear writers,

Congratulations. Congratulations on toughing it out: fourteen weeks of walking in circles, of explaining over and over why not getting paid for your work isn’t really fair, of diminishing public sympathy and growing public impatience, of awkward awards “ceremonies” with Queen Latifah and an empty sound stage, of cold and rain and bizarre physical assault. You did it! You stood up, you shouted yourselves hoarse, and you got what you wanted. I hope you’re all celebrating; you deserve it.

But you weren’t just out there marching for yourselves; you set a precedent. It seems this series of tubes might actually make some money, and someday, the WGAF (Writers’ Guild of America, Future) will owe you folks big time. And that’s why this isn’t just a letter of congratulations; it’s a thank-you note. Thank you for your forethought, for your class in responding to the situation, for your willingness to buckle down and wait. Those of us at home can’t really put a finger on how difficult it must have been to be without paid work this winter—surely not as hard as being without new TV, right?—but to future generations of writers, what you’ve done is nothing short of heroic. So thank you, and we’ll see you in a few weeks.

Sincerely,

Liz
CinemaHype.com

P.S. Can we have the full 16 episodes of Lost? Please?

wga strike, writers’ strike

I’m about to say something that will probably get me a virtual snowball in the face: IS IT SUMMER YET? I’m done with winter. And yes, I do live in California, and yes, it was 56 degrees and sunny-ish today, and no, I expect no sympathy from the “I live in Chicago and it’s 436 below” camp. But that doesn’t mean my toes haven’t been cold since November, and it doesn’t mean all my strappy sundresses aren’t shooting me rueful looks from the back of the closet. Are cotton sheets, bare shoulders, and long evenings too much to ask?

And so I say: CHers, let’s go on vacation. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. Who needs a popsicle in February, anyway? I need some paradise movies, and I need ‘em fast. For starters:

One Night in the Tropics: Because all you need at the are Abbott and Costello to bicker you into oblivion. Sure.

Blue Crush: For those who might occasionally look up from their beach reading. Surfing, or something.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Pirates, yadda yadda, but hey! Look at all that crystal-clear water and imperialist architecture. Start with the first one and go from there.

50 First Dates: Because we all like to go on vacation and forget everything we ever knew. Or is that just me?

You know, after reviewing all the choices, it seems like paradise movies are a bit of a trap: movies about the tropics are all about things going wrong. Paradise lost, and all. Pirates, dinosaurs, ape hunting, guys kicking sand in your picnic. Maybe we just can’t handle that much sunny goodness. Maybe we need winter to show us how good we have it. In that case, I think I’d rather know a little less.

movies, vacation movies, hawaii, the caribbean, travel movies