To My Surprise, Just The Thing I Was Looking For

     1982's The Thing, directed by John Carpenter and starring the great Kurt Russell, can easily be classified as one of my favorite horror films. Its cold, claustrophobic story mixed with entertaining characters and cool creature effects gel together to create an icy horror great. Thankfully, 2011's The Thing pays homage to the original ideas without disrespect, and although the story is more-of-the-same (technically, the new film chronologically is a prequel), it shoves enough scares and gore down the throats of the audience that any horror-freak's blood lust would be satiated. And although the film relies on a bit too much CGI as it chugs along to the semi-questionable ending, it always provides enough tension to make you forget you're not watching real effects like the 1982 version.
     A thought that passed through my head about a year ago: Hollywood executives decided to remake Carpenter's The Thing (which is already a remake)? Sounds like a fucking terrible idea to me. A thought that passed through my head about a month ago upon witnessing the first trailer for the new version: Hmmmm...that actually looks sort of cool. Slick and scary, similar to the Americanized Let Me In (a remake of the slightly superior Swedish film Let the Right One In). A thought that passed through my head last night: I'm officially surprised. The filmmakers told a new version of the story with successfully adding worthwhile horror and scares, and although they relied on too much CGI, it was still pretty damn effective. 
     The story of The Thing (any version) has the potential to always be entertaining and worthwhile. It's about an Alien life form that can manipulate its cells to imitate any living creature. No one is safe, and it's very hard to determine who has the "virus". Eventually, "the thing" that is living inside the human or animal it is mimicking reveals itself, and that reveal is always totally horrific and generally disgusting and vomit-inducing. It's got just about any appendage that is able to penetrate human flesh and bone, it seems like a spider and lobster's love child and it lets out a piercing scream that would send shivers down the most skeptical of spines.
     It helps that the last couple of film versions take place in a very uncomfortable and claustrophobic place: The South Pole. Some scientists and general laborers find an ancient spacecraft and the body of an unknown creature enclosed in ice nearby. The Ice thaws. General hysteria ensues. You see, all of the humans are in an isolated research base and major storm is blowing through. (Isn't it always when you need it the least?). Anything that comes into contact with The Thing or its blood could be infected. Who is who, and could anyone still be human? That is the basis for these films, and it serves up paranoia and tension at an extremely quick pace. There's no reason to speak about the actors: Scientist #1, Bad-ass #1, and Frightened Female #2 play their roles with the grace and honor of a total pro.
     This most recent incarnation of The Thing is a great concept with cool moments but is also a little overblown at times in regards to the excessive use of CGI effects instead of more natural looking creatures. However, that fact doesn't particularly hurt the overall enjoyment. When watching The Thing, you take the story for what it is and accept it without much of a sense of disbelief. Characters blow shit up with flamethrowers and slowly creep down dark, narrow corridors, and the viewer watches between the tiny cracks of their closed fingers, hoping they don't end up like many of the film's stars: eaten, half-digested, spurting blood and pieces of skin, shrieking that terrible scream.     (B)
   

Primary Pressure: The Ides of March Review

     I know what you're thinking. Another blog post with a few paragraphs about how wonderful an actor Ryan Gosling is. It's not my fault that his movies seem to be the only ones worth watching lately: after seeing the incredible Drive a few weeks ago, no new release seemed to spark my interest enough to get into my car, shift into drive, and head on down to the local Cinemagic. That is until The Ides of March was released this past Friday. Even still, my interest was barely sparked: a political drama that looked solid if unspectacular, starring great actors but looking like a less interesting version of 2010's great book Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime. Unfortunately, my suspicions were more confirmed than denied. The Ides of March, though a very well-acted and sometimes absorbing drama, is a been-there-seen-that story that is good but not great and oftentimes tells a lesson that most people know: politics can and do corrupt more often than not.
     The Ides of March tells the story of Governor Morris (portrayed by George Clooney, in a typical George Clooney fashion), a Presidential hopeful that is full of ideas that many liberals wish Obama would produce, myself included (basically atheist beliefs, pro-gay marriage, etc). Stephen Meyers, a junior campaign manager played by the aforementioned Gosling, is what you would call Hot Shit. He works hard, has great ideas and is fully invested in his commitment to Morris and his beliefs. Meyers' boss, the main campaign manager, is a hardened and experienced man played with typical vulgar cleverness by the always amazing Philip Seymour Hoffman. You might think that with Clooney's real life political beliefs (Democratic) that the film tears Republicans apart. Fortunately, it doesn't: the entire picture deals with one Democratic primary, and Republican ideas are barely mentioned and the entire film is enclosed the state of Ohio's Democratic primary bubble.
     Morris is going against Senator Ted Pullman, though we don't see too much of him. What we do see is plenty of his campaign manager, played with a rat-like cockiness by the great Paul Giamatti. The film deals with many issues that plenty of Presidential hopefuls must face: betrayal within your own team, unforgiving hatred toward the other side, and different types of scandal. Above all, it shows us something. Something that isn't a new idea but it still worth questioning: can any Presidential hopeful rise above the dregs of the political process and win without sacrificing an aspect of themselves that totally defines why people love and believe in them? The answer, though a complicated one, seems to be a resounding No.

     The problem, you see, is that this question had an obvious answer. Between the plethora of books, magazine stories, television shows, and documentary films that deal with the subject, it's pretty clear that the political process is as ripe with betrayal and scandal as much (if not more so) than any other profession. No candidate can follow through on all of their promises: it's virtually impossible. There is no clear hero or villain in The Ides of March. Every character evolves in one way or another, and they nearly always act out of their own self-preservation instead of the greater good. You can hate and love each character, even in the same scene.
     The George Clooney-directed The Ides of March is a wonderfully-acted story dealing with behind-the-scenes whispers and wild allegations. It just didn't surprise me enough to love it. The title, however, is quite appropriate. In modern times, the term Ides of March refers to the death of Julius Caesar in 44 B.C., where at least 6 conspirators took it upon themselves to stab Caesar 23 times in an unbelievable act of betrayal. Clearly the metaphor is more than fitting: in politics, its kill or be killed, whether it's with words, back-stabbing actions, or a very sharp knife.      (B-)

A Stylish Drive with Major Acceleration

     You don't need to know much about Ryan Gosling's character in Drive, the third great film in a row (after Bronson and Valhalla Rising) by Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn. Hell, you don't even need to know his name. You see, he's a driver, just with two different occupations. By day, he's a part-time stunt driver for the sorts of movies that call for police cruisers to flip at wonderfully over-the-top angles. By night, he's for hire for the sorts of jobs that call for dangerous robberies and tension-filled chases. It doesn't matter which job he is attending to at the moment; Driver succeeds at each with the same looking-straight-ahead determination and steely resolve.
     Driver is smart, though: when we first meet him, during one of his occasional criminal drives, he outsmarts police cars and helicopters with a sneaky, quiet swagger that would make any Grand Theft Auto player squeal with delight. As other reviewers have mentioned, Gosling's character (Driver) evokes the "man of few words" style and all-around badass-ness of (most notably) Clint Eastwood's 1960's westerns. He does something, We see it, and he doesn't feel the need to talk about with anyone.
     That's not to say that Driver is emotionless. There are a myriad of moments that define who he is in Drive that don't need to be said aloud. Drive, ultimately, is a stylish, slow-burn story about doing what you think is right and being loyal to the ones you care for. Driver lives in a shitty, dark apartment and helps out down at the local garage owned by Shannon (played by Bryan Cranston, in a thankless role that doesn't really mean much). Occasionally, Driver runs into his neighbor Irene (portrayed by the always-cute Carey Mulligan) and soon they become to grow fond of one another. Here is a major aspect of how Drive and other Action/Chase movies differ: Refn's superb direction of the quiet moments: instead of unrealistic dinner dates and quick cut scenes to tops coming off, the director captures the quiet moments that happen during the zygote-stage of a relationship. Every expression, smile and tear is captured in intimate detail, aided by the always wonderful music selection of Refn (becoming a great signature of his work). It's extremely realistic, and it succeeds it making you feel like you're in the scene instead of watching it.

     In fact, everything in regards to the film making is realistic. This is an adult film with adult emotions, tension and violence. A Michael Bay film this ain't. Driver learns that Irene's husband is in jail, and he's getting released right on the cusp of Driver and Irene's potential love. Surely this is going to change the dynamic of Driver's recent relationships. There's no sense to go too far into the plot, but soon enough the slow ride of the film turns into a quick-turning roller coaster filled with thrills and chills that evoke recent and great Japanese revenge films and some of Stanley Kubrick's controversial masterpieces. Danger lurks everywhere, and nobody seems safe.
     Drive is based on a novel by James Sallis, and surely he must be pleased with the result. The film feels like a novel, with a great buildup that is rarely achieved in cinema nowadays. Instead of mindless car chase after car chase and mind-numbing shootouts with quick cuts and fast violence, Drive's scenes linger. They linger on shy smiles and I-mean-business looks, they linger on the intricacies of driving a car to its full potential, and they linger on ruthless acts that are committed in the name of loyalty. Consider me a loyal follower of Drive.     (A)
   

Crazy, Stupid and Highly Lovable

     I have no trouble admitting that Steve Carell's shtick grew tiresome for me soon after he really hit it big. After the wonderful The 40-Year-Old Virgin, there were not many directions to go instead of down. I watched the first episode of the American version of The Office and since have never witnessed another minute (not that it could ever compare to the British version anyway, as entertainment hardly ever does). He's a schmuck in Dinner for Schmucks, and he's his normal shitty self in Date Night and Get Smart. But--like most things in life--there are exceptions: he was good on The Daily Show and was likable in Little Miss Sunshine. A romantic comedy that came out last weekend is another one of those exceptions. Crazy, Stupid, Love, anchored by a super comedic performance from moist-pantie-inducing Ryan Gosling and Carell's slight variation of his character from Virgin, is a heartwarming little tale that is at times highly amusing and always worth watching.       (B)

My blog just lost about 3 paragraphs of this review. God fucking damn it.    (F, for this blog post)        

Cliché Cowboys and Aggressive Aliens

     I've always had a soft spot in my heart (along with a soft-on) for the wonderful slow-burning stories of the Western genre. The basic plots are always timeless, and they evoke a time past where everyday life was much simpler and you settled debts with coins or a revolver. Between Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman in the amazing Unforgiven, Guy Pearce in the incredible and surreal The Proposition, and Jeff Bridges in last year's remake of True Grit, Westerns have had a resurgence in quality and awards potential during my lifetime. This is why I had such high aspirations for Jon Favreau's Cowboys and Aliens, which I was hoping would be some of the best summer entertainment I'd see this year. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be: Cowboys and Aliens, although entertaining enough for the general public, left me wanting much, much more. Filled with Western and Alien genre cliches and I've-seen-it-all-before action sequences, Cowboys and Aliens tastes like the leftovers of a tasty but underwhelming concoction.
     None of the fault lies on the actor's shoulders, that much is sure. Daniel Craig plays a "stranger" who has just woken up and isn't quite sure who he is, where he is, or what his purpose in life is. But he does have a mysterious bracelet around his left wrist, and he's one bad-ass mo-fo (that part is quickly known, as he dispatches three or four cronies armed with guns in the first five minutes). The Stranger (whose name is Jake), saunters towards the nearest town, presumably to find out what has happened to him. While there, he manages to embarrass a cocky little prick named Percy, the stereotypical my-father-runs-this-town-so-I-can-do-what-I-want cowardly piss ant, portrayed by Paul Dano, who was incredibly more effective in the western-themed There Will Be Blood. Percy's dad, played by a gruff Harrison Ford, doesn't take no for an answer, especially when he learns that Jake is a wanted criminal that has harmed him in the past. This first bit of story has plenty of potential, with some interesting bit characters (Sam Rockwell's Doc and Keith Carradine as the Sheriff come to mind), but the story falters once the Alien ships start causing trouble.

     The film's problems begin with the Aliens (which is basically the story and screenplay) and end with Jon Favreau's competent yet straightforward direction. Just as you think Jake might be totally screwed in regards to his situation, Aliens show up (the townsfolk call them Demons, because what else could it be when the notion of extraterrestrials doesn't even exist), and his bracelet kicks into action, revealing itself to be a powerful weapon against this inhuman foe. Jake and his once-enemy townsfolk go on the run, tracking a creature far from town and ultimately coming up with a plan to try and destroy this unknown, ruthless force. Along the way, they clash with native Indians and Jake's old criminal crew (one of which is portrayed by the wonderful Walton Goggins), but--ultimately--none of this really matters, because Jake's mystic bracelet always seems to kick in when he gets into trouble. Part of this is why the screenplay could use some tweaks: you never really get to know these characters past their stereotypes. Jake is mysterious and powerful, and obviously has a soft heart buried beneath his confusion and sadness. Ford's character is old and battle-worn, but you just know that he's looking for a chance to show his tenderness, especially with a young boy who has recently lost his grandfather. Even (the great) Sam Rockwell's arc is predictable: throughout the film he's sort of a bumbling and incompetent man, who tries to be accurate when practicing his rifle but never hits his target. Do you think he hits his "target" when it counts?
     The Aliens, in regards to their look and ruthlessness, are pretty cool, but the battle scenes involving them failed to stir much excitement or emotions in me. And that's mostly Favreau's fault: in both Iron Man's (specifically the first one), he staged action set pieces with equal parts humor and pomp. Here they're just same old shit. Aliens were scarier in Alien and War of the Worlds, and Cowboys were more realistic and entertaining in Unforgiven and 3:10 to Yuma. Overall, that's the main problem with Cowboys and Aliens: its bits and pieces never cohere into one complete, fun unit. All of this has been done better before, and with the talent involved in this film, any ol' gunslinger could call Cowboys and Aliens a mild travesty.     (C)

Thoughts on Harry Potter's intense climax, that same climax flying at your face in 3-D, and the unfortunate plight of this blog for the next 6 months

     I have never read a word of any of the Harry Potter books. No, not because I think they are pussy or poorly written or only for children. It's because I watched the first few films in the series without having read the books, and the trend just continued from there. I'm sure they are good enough, and maybe someday I will read them with my kids, but for now, I'm satisfied with the most successful (monetarily) franchise in film history. It's also why I don't really feel the need to write a full review of the final chapter. Instead of writing paragraphs full of back story and character names that I can't even spell without looking up, keeping it simpler is pertinent: I'm not sure if I ever loved any Harry Potter movie, but every single one of them was entertaining enough. And the final chapter was the darkest and most emotional of them all. If Deathly Hallows Part 1 was a film filled with travel and set-up, Part 2 is a two hour epic battle between Harry and Voldemort that does not disappoint. It's fun. It's sad. Above all, it's a satisfying ending to an epic film franchise.  (B+)

     I will tell you one thing though: I am getting fucking sick and tired of 3-D. From this day forward, I am boycotting any 3-D film that wasn't originally filmed in 3-D (Such as the latest Jackass or Avatar). 3-D--in the majority of films--leaves the image blurry, dark and muddy. I'm tired of it, and many others are too. Throughout the country, there's an underground movement of cinema lovers that refuse to see films in 3-D due to the sub-par image quality and hassle of having to wear bulky, dorky-looking glasses. After seeing the 3-D IMAX Harry Potter (a week after seeing the latest Transformers in 3-D), I'm taking a stand; and you should too. Stop letting film companies charge extra prices for lesser image quality just to make an extra buck. It doesn't and never has improved anything. That is, until 3-D porn starts entering the market. That's something I'm willing to see.

     On a final note, the day is here: the NFL lockout is finally over! It's been a nerve racking few months for professional football fans, but it's official. Correspondingly, I just joined my 5th league today. Consequently, I will be spending a lot more time reading and analyzing anything football for the next 6 months, and one of my hobbies is going to take a hit. There's never enough time to do everything when outside of the hell that is a 40-hour work week. Some of what will be sacrificed will be the time I spend on this blog. I will still write a review for every film that I see in the theater, and you can count on my top 10 list at the end of the year, but other than that, who really knows? The time has come to see if Vick and the Vaporubs can 3-peat.

Netflix This:

Last Cup

     Documentaries are great for a myriad of reasons: they tell the story of an interesting person's life, an important political or social issue, the savagery of war, or a world-changing event in history. Last Cup: Road to the World Series of Beer Pong is a documentary about an obscure (in the eyes of many non-college goers) sport that involves drinking copious amounts of beer and throwing ping-pong balls into cups. Like any entertaining documentary, Last Cup takes a subject that the majority of the world population doesn't give a shit about and makes it exciting, funny, and emotional. And that's mainly due to the human touch: similar to the wonderful King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (which followed the underdogs and the champion at professional arcade Donkey Kong playing), Last Cup tracks a select few twosome groups as they vie for the top spot in the  World Series of Beer Pong (which, at this point in time, pays out $50,000). That's the simple plot. Cameras follow these people who have decided to make it their life's mission to travel around to various bars and events, training to reach the apex of plunking ability.
     For the uninitiated (any old people who are reading this) the basics of Beer Pong (also known as Beirut) are pretty straightforward. They need to be, since after a few games your buzz may outweigh your hand-eye coordination by a large margin. You have a table with two distinct sides. You have a team of two on each side. You line a pyramid of cups half full with beer in each and take turns throwing a pong ball into the the other team's cups. Drink the beer in the cup when a ball is made. If you and your teammate both make the ball, you get to shoot again. And boy are the characters in this film awesome at it. You've got Tone from New Jersey, a roided freak with rage to match his passion for making clutch shots and playing shirtless. You've got The Iceman, a morbidly obese Jonah Hill-lookalike (seriously, he looks exactly like him) who makes a risky decision to take an eccentric rookie partner to the World Series. Shawn takes it to another level of obsessiveness: a skillful computer engineer, he designs a program and tracks every single shot and analyzes his statistics for hours after every match.
     These people and their unbelievable love of the game is entertaining enough, but add the beer and things get really interesting: spectators get in for free, and as time passes, beer and emotions flow. Crowds scream at competitors as they shoot, and they especially take a cruel (but funny) heckling to the shirtless Tone. It isn't all just fun and games though--there is real drama here. These guys have been training for months for this moment, and they act as if their livelihood depends on it. And that's ultimately what Last Cup is about: although some may find the plight of these men pathetic and joke-worthy, it's better to be the best at something than be the best at nothing.

No Transformation for the Transformers Franchise

     Are you feeling bored on this lazy Sunday afternoon? Maybe you've got some free time after a long 9-5 workday at some point this week? Maybe you're thinking about going to your local cinema to check out the new (of course in "glorious" 3-D) worldwide hit, Transformers: Dark of the Moon? My advice: don't. Instead, grab a group of friends, head to the nearest scrap yard and spend $15 each (the price of IMAX admission) on various pieces of jagged, big and colorful junk metal. Head home, go out to your back yard, and smash these pieces together as fast and as loud as you can. It'll help if you utter tired, cliche catchphrases in a deep, booming voice. Have your hottest female friend run around looking stupid, preferably in a pair of sexy panties or a low-cut shirt that exposes most of her perfect breasts (not that you'll actually get to see them; this is "family" fun after all). That would be money more smartly spent. Transformers: Dark of the Moon--though better than the atrocious Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen--is an overlong and incoherent mess of a film, stuffed with a who-cares-plot, hilariously unfunny humor and a confusing assortment of action set pieces.
     Things begin in the past: we learn that mankind's mission to the moon was actually a secret plot to investigate an alien crash landing that occurred on the "dark side" (hence the film's title). We get a lot of old and real news clips intersected with the alternate version of what really happened on the moon. This alternate history plot starts off cool enough, but things go quickly downhill from there: this crashed ship was carrying the "good" transformers away from their home planet so they could continue their struggle against the evil bots. The human beings, led as always by the annoying Sam Witwicky (a role that Shia Ladoof must be dead tired of playing by now) are as disposable as ever: there's his new supermodel girlfriend (forget the Transformers, to watch these films your biggest suspension of disbelief has to be this little shit getting chicks this hot), the hard-ass government agent played by Frances McDormand (clearly just waiting for a call from the Coen brothers), a couple of elite warriors portrayed by Tyrese and Raylan Givens' twin brother, and Patrick Dempsey in a villainous role. Actin' class this ain't.
     Enough about the humans. Clearly, they are not what these films are about. They are about millions of special effects dollars spent on intricate transformations of robots and the big metal battles that ensue. Unfortunately, these battles are as emotionless as Sam's new girlfriend's Botoxed face. (Sometimes I wonder why these films make hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office, but then I remember that millions of people watch Fox News on a daily basis.) Obviously, a lot of the problems with the huge Transformer fights fall right into the lap of director Michael Bay. This dude, who used to make entertaining action films such as The Rock, has clearly got an enormous ego to match his rock-hard erection for gigantic explosions, bangs and clangs. His trilogy of Transformers films are as predictable as his tiring and head-scratching fight scenes. Step 1: show hot girl or Sam with his cringe-inducing parents, usually with a terrible rock ballad playing in the background. Step 2: have important people or government agents talk about the fate of Earth and how it is in peril for one reason or another, usually reasons that don't make much sense. Step 3: Show a loud action set piece showing any combination of humans, good and bad Transformers, and exploding cars and buildings. Repeat.
     These movies actually had potential to be entertaining. With a little more narrative coherency, a more emotional and original way to portray each machine's plight and battle, and actual, real humor, the Transformers franchise could have been taken in a much more rewarding direction. Transformers: Dark of the Moon, like its predecessors, left me feeling empty. Lately, internet rumors have stated that this will be Michael Bay's last journey into the Transformers universe and that Jason Statham may take over the lead actor role, two sparks that might ignite a fire into this franchise (we can hope). But for Bay, his trilogy involving Transformers was a massive success. He's wiping his ass with $100 bills, and I'm stuck in the theater's public restroom using one-ply.     (D+)

What You'll Want to be Watching:

                                                   
                                                Drive

    The originality and exciting nature of Nicolas Winding Refn's direction has been discussed before: starting with the Pusher trilogy and following with the great and insane Bronson and Valhalla Rising, Refn's films are (from now on, especially) films in which I totally get excited for. This won't change anytime soon when on September 16th, Refn's film Drive gets released into cinemas. It is easily one of my most (if not the most) anticipated picture of 2011. Early word is that it should be one of yours too. But the direction clearly isn't the only thing to get pumped for: it's Tobias Grindal I mean Ryan Gosling in an action-movie role. Lately, Gosling has been showing us all what it's like being a fucking great actor who can make any film better, something that anyone would be well aware of if they had seen 2001's The Believer when it was released. 

      If you've seen Refn's other work, it's easy to surmise that the plot of Drive has potential to be exciting and ultra-violent: based on a 2005 book of the same name by James Sallis, Drive deals with a Hollywood stunt driver (played by Gosling) who moonlights as a getaway driver for criminal activity. Things get crazy when he realizes a contract has been put on his life after a heist has gone wrong. It definitely has some potential in the right hands; this film is clearly in the right hands. The novel, at only 158 pages, was a fast, noir-ish thriller with mystery and extreme violence. Some say Gosling's character reminds them of old school movie heroes, who don't talk much but speak with their actions. Early reviews say those actions are totally badass and shocking. I've tried to stay away from specific plots points about the film, because I want the suspense to be totally unspoiled. Like many old westerns and Samurai films, the action is supposed to unexpected and brutal.

     I am expecting to be in love with Drive when it is released. Every aspect of it sounds great. Take a look at the co-stars: one is Bryan Cranston (known around these parts as Walter White). Another is Christina Hendricks, better known as the big-titted, huge-assed Joan from Mad Men. The seedy underbelly of Los Angeles looks to be another "co-star". They are intense images that are not often seen in films. Since many of the scenes take place inside of a car, Refn employs a "biscuit rig", which is a camera system that allows its actors to focus on acting instead of driving. Drive opened at the 2011 Cannes film festival to significantly rave reviews, with many saying the film has potential to become an international hit instead of just a noir geek-gasm that it will definitely be. I'm pumped. You should be too. See you September 16th. 

Netflix This:

Buried

     The granite-hard abs of Ryan Reynolds are undeniably super sexy, and though I am "Interested in: Women", even I can admit that if I were a budding young broad my panties would become drenched just thinking of him. This some-would-say-disgusting, others-would-say-funny statement is interesting for a couple of reasons: what's the first thing one thinks of when hearing the name Ryan Reynolds? Most women and 'mo's would state his bangin' bod (and clearly some hot-blooded American heteros such as myself would say the same thing). This makes 2010's film Buried even more impressive. It's a great movie, an intense thriller, it showcases a wonderful performance by Reynolds, and it does not feature his stomach in a prominent role!
     I feel like there are probably some major misconceptions about this film: since Reynolds is such a fantasy for women and gays, the title can be a bit misleading. Women: this movie is not about Reynolds burying his freshly-shaved Brut-slathered face in your tits, as much as you would like it to be. Gays: this movie is not about Reynolds burying his enormous (you hope) package deep inside your rectal cavity. Now, I love gays and women as much as the next socially-liberal intelligent person, and I'm sorry to burst your bubble about what's getting buried in this film. You see, Reynolds himself is buried (not in the nude either).

Randomly throwing this in here for my gay and women readers (all 3 of you?):

     If you could boil Buried down to its basic elements, it plays like the great scene in Kill Bill Volume 2 where The Bride is buried alive inside of a coffin. Only in Buried, it's for the entire run time. Reynolds spends the whole movie inside a coffin. There are no background or flash-forward scenes that take place outside of the small wooden box that is (maybe) 6 feet underground. He is buried alive with a few items (not sex toys), one if which is a cell phone that barely can make calls (due to the obvious of being inside of a coffin). Now I know this sounds like a dream come true for many of you, trapping R. R. alone inside of a dark space with nothing but the stench of his sweat and his labored breathing, but get your mind out of the gutter because this film is intense (not in a sexual way). 

     Years ago, I watched Van Wilder when it came out, and I thought it was hilarious. Maybe I wouldn't appreciate it as much on repeat viewings, but it clearly shows that Reynolds can be entertaining. Since then, his choice of roles has left something to be desired for film lovers--unless you count co-starring with Sandra Bullock in a romantic comedy a good thing (which I don't). Buried is different. It's exciting, claustrophobic and it doesn't cop-out at the end. The fun is unraveling the mystery of why he is in the coffin, the phone calls he chooses to make with a dying cell, and his dealing of an unwanted visitor. Some might say the film is just a worthless stunt, and others might say it's just a film that shows Ryan Reynolds can carry a non-romantic comedy film on his own (which he actually does). I say it's a discomforting, anxiety-filled nightmare of a situation that is portrayed beautifully onto film due to its acting and direction--perfect for a dark and rainy weekend evening. 

What You'll Want to be Watching:

                                               
                                       Hell on Wheels

     In my humble (but usually correct when it comes to film and television) opinion, the series Hell on Wheels sounds like an absolute perfect fit for AMC network. I've discussed my love of Breaking Bad and Mad Men before this moment, but with the network's recent good-on-first-watch The Walking Dead and the occasionally brilliant The Killing, with its sure to be surprising season finale this Sunday, AMC has easily solidified second place in the television station battle of great dramas. Surely they will continue nurturing their strengths with this potential gem: Hell on Wheels is set just after the Civil War, and it portrays the story of a former Confederate soldier (played by Anson Mount, a newcomer to a stage this big) who is on a mission of revenge--a mission that takes him to the building of America's first Transcontinental railroad.

     Who doesn't love a good Western? I know I do: throughout the past few years, westerns have been some of my favorites; last year's True Grit was obviously great, and 2007's There Will Be Blood is one of my favorite films of all time. A 10-episode series set in the Western time period on one of the most exciting networks today? Consider me fucking pumped. Early word is that it's a modern-style thriller set in the West, and apparently the revenge involved deals with the former soldier tracking down the Union soldiers who murdered his wife, presumably by working on the railroad in the same area in which they live. 

The Badass trailer:

     The trailer isn't the greatest quality, but it's fairly easy to see that the show has potential to be essential Sunday night (I'm assuming Sunday night) entertainment. There's no word yet on a release date, but I'm assuming in the fall, maybe in the 10 P.M. slot after The Walking Dead. Many would say that I am stating this due to the fact that I am alive and viewing shows during this time period, but in my eyes the last 10 years have been the Golden Age of Television. Never before have there been so many stellar television series that continue to push the boundaries in terms of quality and boner-inducing moments. After the great final season of Big Love, the solid Game of Thrones, the upcoming seasons of Breaking Bad and Boardwalk Empire, and the soon-to-be airing Hell on Wheels, here's hoping the quality continues. I'm confident it will. 

A Monster Summer Movie: Super 8

     Thirty years ago this weekend, Steven Spielberg hit his stride with directing the first Indiana Jones film, Raiders of the Lost Ark. As we all know, that great film combined action, adventure, humor and danger to form two hours of pure fun. It's fitting then, that J. J. Abrams, a Spielbergian protege, steps up to the plate decades later with Super 8 to take his swing at creating a summer blockbuster that reminds us of watching films when we were younger, when the world was at our feet and our eyes were filled with wonder over what was transpiring on the large screen. Tony Soprano once said that "'Remember when' is the lowest form of conversation." Thankfully, that does not apply to movies: Super 8 is like remembering that essence of childhood that adults barely remember, and above all, remembering what it's like to witness a wildly exciting and touching summer film.
     And it is like those old Spielberg films, such as Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T. But it's a new and exciting take that uses all of the advances in film technique, style, and story to tell a completely new tale. Kids riding around on bikes and making movies with old super 8 cameras, the first feelings of being fascinated with girls, the terrifying excitement of witnessing a disastrous event--these things transpire with an attentiveness and awe that is hardly ever reached for most other take-your-entire-family summer entertainment. Mentioning films that are similar to a new film is usually a detriment, but here it actually works, and it's like watching The Goonies for the first time as a child.
     I'm deliberately not going to delve too far into the story, so here are the basics: set in a small town in the 1970's, a group of friends (all with vividly different personalities and interests [all of which come into play in creative ways later in the film]) are making a short film to enter into a local contest. These are hardcore future movie makers, not unlike Abrams and Spielberg were as children, and they take their job very seriously, so when a train is about to pass through one of the pivotal scenes in their homemade film, they are excited about the added production value. Thing's don't go as planned when the train is derailed (accidentally or intentionally?) and explodes in front of them.

     From this point on, Hell breaks loose in the lives of the kids involved. At this young point in his career, J.J. Abrams is already very adept at creating new and exciting ways for Hell to break loose: his previous two directing efforts were the action-packed (and best of the trilogy) Mission Impossible: III and the awesome reboot of Star Trek that I would watch any day over the dated and shitty old versions, and he also was the co-creator at the beginning of ABC's Lost, when it was just great network television and hadn't gotten all alternate reality/purgatory on us. That's not to say that Abrams is only a one-trick pony, executing cool action scenes with ease: quite the contrary. Some of the best parts of the film are the realistic portrayals of relationships--the relationships between teenage boys and girls, their friends, and their parents, whether they're still on this Earth or not. The film slowly unravels the mystery of the crushed train's cargo on a backdrop filled with boyhood's love of summer, girls and butterflies in the belly.
     Super 8 edges out Source Code as my favorite movie so far of 2011, and the way that the year is shaping up in regards to future releases, I can easily surmise that it will be near the top in the end. Like many reviewers have said, it's like watching an early Spielberg film for the first time. The key word is Nostalgia, something that I'm not usually a sucker for but works wonders when it's done correctly. Super 8 does it correctly. As Don Draper once said: "Nostalgia: it's delicate, but potent."     (A)

A Pretty Kickass First Class

     Plenty of good things are inside the 131 minute run time of X-Men: First Class, director Matthew Vaughn's second major studio film after Kickass. However, there are two great things: Michael Fassbender's wonderful acting, which is at times over-the-top (in a good way) but is always powerful, and Betty Draper's (January Jones) luscious--with a size that I never would have imagined--tits. It's safe to say that January Jones is a wooden actress, who is generally bad at showing emotion (which is why her bitch character on Mad Men works so well), and it's also safe to say that there is a reason why most of her scenes are in bras or bikini tops that seem two sizes too small: her acting may be wooden, but that won't change the fact that most of the male audience will be wooden in a different way. As in they will have wood. (Boners.) But I digress: First Class is a fun movie with a 60's feel, it has many interesting and exciting performances from great talent, and although it may not be the best comic-based film to be released this year, it's still a fun time with new takes on old characters.
     Speaking of that 1960's feel, the film's plot puts the tensions of the timeline into good use; its major catastrophe deals with the missile crisis. As anyone who has seen the trailer should know, First Class takes place before the decades of all of the X-Men films that have been released to theaters. It's an origin story for certain characters, taking a look at the beginnings of two of the old-as-we've-seen-them main characters: Magneto and Professor X. We see Magneto (Fassbender) as a child, as he learns to move metals with his mind. In a different part of the world, Oxford, we meet Professor X (James McAvoy), who is a genius when it comes to genetic mutations and creatively uses this knowledge to try and pick up attractive girls at bars. Once the two characters meet, they realize they have a common (and ruthless enemy): a man by the name of Sebastian Shaw, in a role that Kevin Bacon looks like he is having fun with. With the way Shaw acts, shooting unarmed women and using his genetic mutation to absorb energy around him to powerful effect, it's no wonder that the CIA finds him to be an essential threat. So when the CIA recruits Xavier and the mutants that he has found to help stop Shaw (along with Magneto), high-tech gadgetry, violence, and humor ensue on a backdrop dealing with a potential world-ending event.

     Much of First Class deals with a young high-school to college age group of mutants that X. and Magneto recruit to train and let them know that they are not alone in the world--they can use their amazing powers for good causes.  Unfortunately, this is also where the film falters: yes, some of these young freaks have cool powers that are used in the great climax action sequence in the film, but overall, I was wishing that I was watching Fassbender ham it up as Magneto. The young glances of love and the immature nature of the childish characters was more like watching X-Men: Twilight instead of a badass summer comic book movie. Maybe I'm overreacting a little bit, and maybe it's just a testament to Fassbender's screen presence: after his heart-breaking turn in Hunger, his small but brilliant role in Inglorious Basterds, and his charming yet frightening characterization in Fish Tank, I wonder how many times I will have to mention him before people realize that he is one of the most exciting actors to watch and will be for a long time to come.
     As I stated before, director Matthew Vaughn's previous film was last year's Kick-Ass, which was my 6th favorite movie of 2010. First Class isn't nearly as good as that film, but it is still packed with action, explosions and witty humor--just of the PG-13 variety. It's a serviceable comic-book action movie with flashes of brilliance, mainly due to the two lead actors and their respective acting prowess. But it also has moments of eye-rolling, with some of the interactions between the younger characters, the stupidity of the government portrayal, and the acting of January Jones coming to mind. But with a scandal breaking that director Matthew Vaughn had an affair with and impregnated Ms. Jones during filming, it sort of makes sense: who needs acting when you have a pair of tits like that?     (B)

The Bridesmaids Review

     I'm not one of those guys that refuses to see a film with a female-driven story with actresses talking about their menstrual cycles and relationship problems. I refuse to see films with female-driven stories with those issues that suck, which--unfortunately for many women and their poor men who get dragged to these piles of feces--is the majority of movies about weddings and finding your one true love. Thankfully, I could tell that Bridesmaids was one of the good ones, one of the ones that was made for the viewer's benefit and not the economic bottom line. Starring and partly written by SNL's Kristen Wiig (who is starting to turn heads in films such as Paul and MacGruber), Bridesmaids is a great success for a few reasons: the film shows the true comedy, emotions and insecurities that all women feel when their friends are getting hitched, it does an amazing job of dealing with the entire eclectic mix of women that get introduced (and keeping them distinctly original and separate in character), and Wiig's performance, which is both emotional and physical, is one of the most honest I've seen in a comedy.  Above all, Bridesmaids solidified my thinking in that most weddings (and more specifically wedding planning)--no matter the who/what/where--bring out the worst in people.
     Wiig portrays a girl named Annie, whose cake shop has gone under since the beginning of the economic recession. She's been best friends with Lillian for years and years, and they get together often to drink wine, read Us magazine and talk about how weird penises are, especially when a man rests them on their face while sleeping. Annie's also involved in a one-sided relationship with Jon Hamm, who beautifully plays a rich, douchey, even more sex-obsessed version of Don Draper. She's down on her luck, stuck in a limbo of emotionless sex and a dead-end job at a jewelry store (the setting for some great scenes due to her brash honesty about relationships and friendship to love-drunk customers). What could be Annie's rock bottom? That is a question that constantly gets raised and then one-upped throughout the film, starting with her best friend Lillian's engagement.

     You see, Lillian has been best friends with Annie forever, but ever since meeting her soon-to-be-husband, Lillian has also becomes friends with Helen (her husband's employer's wife), a rich bitch that is clearly trying to drive a wedge in between Annie and Lillian's long-term friendship. Helen, portrayed in an extremely cunty (but effective) way by Rose Byrne, needs everything to be perfect. She is also in the wedding party (Annie is the maid of honor), but she is one of those people that loves planning every little detail of any major event. As Helen consistently tries to steal Annie's ideas about the engagement party, bachelorette party, and the wedding itself, drunken jealousy, dirty looks, insecurities and anger reach a boiling point of hilarious hijinks.
     Back to Wiig: the movie is great because of her. Yes, there are many highlights from the other members of the bridal party, but they are usually a little more obvious and over-the-top than Wiig's honest and insecure performance of a woman who feels left behind in a world of successful careers and loving relationships. The key is that both men and women can relate to her plight. Every human experiences some form of jealousy and self-consciousness during major events (like a wedding), and sometimes we just want it to be over and done with. And although, as the film reaches a higher and higher minute in runtime, the movie does subscribe to some of the same old tired tropes that many women- or wedding-centric films rely on (specifically Wiig slowly realizing she wants a sweet and generous man instead of just a misogynistic fuck-buddy), Bridesmaids puts smiles on faces and warmth into even the most skeptical of hearts.     (A-)

Netflix This:

Blue Valentine

     Realism is unbelievably important when making a good film about the highs and lows of a marriage or relationship. To raise above the general bullshit chick-flick films about empowered women and princely men, a filmmaker must tap into much deeper emotional wells to make sure that the viewer relates to the man or woman--the good aspects or the bad. I'm talking about the tiny things that occur during an argument, a joyous occasion, or spontaneous sex: a disappointed look that hurts much worse than a punch to the head, an exclamation of tearful laughter, or the slight breath that escapes during a moment of pleasure/pain. Blue Valentine, a film by Derek Cianfrance and starring the great Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams, succeeds not only because the wonderful actors involved, but particularly because of these small moments that truly make you feel like you're witnessing the full spectrum of events in a relationship, including make-ups, break-ups and cunnilingus.
     The film basically portrays a marriage that maybe wasn't meant to be. It isn't told in chronological order, so the scenes skip between before, after and during the courtship. Blue Valentine starts off close to the end chronologically, and it's a great way to begin because of all of the questions that are raised: you see, normally we see Gosling as a hip, slick, well-dressed gent in nearly all of the films he is in. But from the first moment we see him in Blue Valentine, he's chubbed up, has a receding hairline, wears glasses that resemble a pedophiles, and--best of all--wears a black sweatshirt with a picture of an eagle on it, similar to something a 5th grader or a mildly-retarded amateur bass fisherman would throw on in the morning.  Clearly, the love between Dean (Gosling) and Cindy (Williams) is not what it once was. They have a daughter, and are just going through the motions, with Dean being a house painter who starts drinking The King of Beers around 8 A.M. on weekdays, and Cindy working as a nurse with a sketchy Doctor co-worker. The film then jumps back in time from there, depicting many events throughout their once loving now hating relationship.

     This film works much better than other similar films because of one reason (a reason that causes all of those little realistic moments that the viewer can relate to): the improvised nature of the script and the film in general. Much of the film was unscripted, with Gosling and Williams improvising their dialogue between each other on many occasions. Many of the fights seem extremely honest and real (and may be tough to watch for some people); for instance, there is a great scene that includes an incredible back-and-forth between Dean and Cindy about a former lover that Cindy sees in a liquor store that is especially poignant. Also, one of the better scenes of the entire year of 2010 involves Dean and Cindy both losing their shit inside Cindy's workplace. There's a reason for this naturalistic approach: prior to filming some of the more intense fights between the couple, the director had Gosling and Williams rent a home for a period of time and only have the money that their character's income would produce. They had much more time to represent a real couple with real problems than many other actors.
    One of the small problems with the film deals with the question, "what exactly went wrong?" Maybe it's my sexist subconscious speaking, but I feel like Dean didn't really do anything wrong to deserve the hatred that Cindy feels for him in specific scenes during the movie. And if you agree with his point of view, it's hard to see what more he could do. Blue Valentine, although clearly about a relationship, can more specifically be described as a cautionary tale about some people who can just, simply, fall out of love. The excitement that is felt at the beginning of a relationship can quickly morph into something more destructive: the slow decline of hope of what is still to come.

Netflix This:

The Staircase

     How do we really know is someone is guilty or innocent of a murder when looking at a blood-filled crime scene, if evidence does not exist? What if there was no murder weapon? Is it time to reexamine our justice system? Is it time to reexamine the faith we put in the intelligence of a random jury to come to the correct conclusions? These are just a few of the questions that are raised in this intense and immensely entertaining documentary. The Staircase, consisting of eight 45-minute episodes (a commitment, I know), is one my best Netflix finds in a very long time. Directed by Jean-Xavier de Lestrade (who won an Oscar for best documentary in 2001), the film follows the life and murder trial of author Michael Peterson, who in 2001 called 911 and hysterically screamed that his wife Kathleen had fallen down the stairs.
     To fully immerse yourself in The Staircase, it's best not to know too much about the specifics of the trial and absolutely incredible information, finds, and coincidences that happen throughout the long process of the investigation. So I will avoid too much information here, and if you're interested in seeing the 6-hour documentary, avoid information about it everywhere. A 6-hour documentary about the mysteries and suspicions of a man tried for murder may not seem like that great of a time, but you would be wrong. The Staircase's 6 hours were culled from 300 total hours of footage and basically offers a full purview of the defense's preparations and intricate strategies in defending Michael Peterson. It also shows the influence of the press in regards to their biased opinions on aspects of the trial.
     It's pertinent to know the basics: Michael Peterson calls 911. His wife has supposedly fallen down the stairs. Her blood alcohol content is .07, and she also has Valium in her system. The problem, as you can see in the picture to the left, is the severe injuries that Peterson's wife sustained in the supposed fall (and yes, the film does show every aspect of the trial, including graphic crime scene and autopsy photos of Kathleen). She has a fracture of the thyroid neck cartilage and extremely severe lacerations on the top of her head. Much of the film deals with the competing conclusions from two separate blood pattern analysts. (Where's Dexter when you need him?) Obviously, the prosecution uses the vivid and graphic images of the injures and poses the question, how could these injuries be from a fall down the stairs? The defense's opinion is the she fell backwards coming up the turn in the stairs and repeatedly continues to fall while slipping on her own blood. Michael Peterson has no blood splatter on his clothing, there is no cast-off  blood from swinging a weapon up and down or side to side, and there is no murder weapon to be found. As I stated before, these are just the basics. Numerous insane happenings and coincidences dig the mystery deeper and deeper, and they involve the the home life of Peterson and their many children, the missing murder weapon, the questionable motives and sexuality of the people involved, and another similar death that turns the case on its head. By the time Episode 8 starts (titled "The Verdict"), your nerves will be on edge, whether you think that Peterson is guilty or not. Above all, it's about a case that goes far beyond whether a man killed his wife on a narrow and dark stairwell, and it rises to a war between the defense and prosecution and the truths and lies they use to influence a jury.

A Short Update

     

     Here's a quick blog update for any of you two or three people who read these film-based writings: as you may know, right now I do occasional blog posts about Netflix movies that you can stream instantly to your computer or device. I have found this to be too limiting when deciding what film to write about. Yes, there are obviously some good--and even amazing--films on Netflix instant, but it's just extremely hard to find the time to seek them out when I also get 2 hard discs at a time as well (not to mention going to the actual movie theater and watching Movies On Demand).
    So from now on I have decided not to restrict myself to just instant movies (and probably people didn't even notice anyway), and I will be recommending any movie that I see from any format that suits my fancy. It should make for write-ups on much better films than previously, since I am no longer confined to the chains of  the movie prison that is Netflix Watch Instantly. Expect a new post soon...

Already Craving More Thor

     It seems that in this great country that we live in, summer blockbusters have been arriving to our cinema screens earlier and earlier every year that passes. This year's first huge hit, Fast Five, was released on the 29th of April, and it's fair to say that its huge opening weekend numbers signified the beginning of a long and prosperous summer blockbuster season. And this means one thing: we're going to be seeing a plethora of previews and clips that show men (or creatures) from comic books (and graphic novels) kicking ass and saying sometimes-cool-usually-lame catchphrases into the (probably 3-D) camera lenses. If you're more niggardly (that word is not a racial slur, my less-intelligent readers) than I am in regards to what films to see in the movie theater, trying to decide what superhero-based film to see can be like wading through a river of shit with the occasional fresh and scrumptious corn kernel. Luckily--I am here to report--Thor, with the title character portrayed in a star-making turn by Australian Chris Hemsworth, is more tasty morsel than piece of shit.
      I was excited to see Thor in the sense that I hadn't been to the theater in about 14 days, which for me is an extremely long time; however, after witnessing the trailers, I wasn't sure how great the movie would be. But what happened is the best thing that can happen when one pays $9.50 to see a film: pleasant surprise. It's all a bit confusing at first if you are not familiar with the mythology of Thor. The film starts out on Earth, where Thor is discovered after he is transported by some sort of Terminator-style portal. Fortunately without Arnold's naked ass. Thor switches gears quickly, after just a few minutes, to show us a long sequence of events that lead to him landing on Earth. You see, Thor is from another realm called Asgard (a porn film title parody in the making), where the Asgardians have been waging war with the Frost Giants for centuries. The Frost Giants are scary, big, badass creatures who can freeze people and things in place and then shatter them, which makes for some extremely cool special effects. Thor's dad, Odin (acted beautifully by Anthony Hopkins), is the king of this realm, and basically sends Thor to Earth in an act of humility (Thor had recently attacked the ice creatures in an act of aggression), to show him that being cocky and aggressive isn't the right way to be King, which Thor is first-in-line to become. He also strips Thor of his legendary weapon, a hammer, as it is also sent to Earth, and Thor must earn the right to wield it again. Rereading this paragraph, I know it sounds kind of lame and corny. But with the Shakespearean themes of love, humility and troubled families, the incredibly cool, loud and original special effects, and the interesting direction of Kenneth Branagh, Thor's quality rises above the poo wave of previous below-average superhero incarnations.

      What Thor is, at it's quickly beating heart, is a fish-out-of-water story that is both humorous and light-hearted. Thor gets banished to Earth, but he has been living in the realm of Asgard, where people talk in a form of arrogant-royal-English. It adds up to great comic relief when he is found by three scientists, the most important of which is played cutely by a pre-preggers Natalie Portman. When Thor's stomach growls, he states, "I need sustenance!" When he's done with a coffee in a diner, he shatters his mug on the floor and states that he needs another. He's a strong and cocky man that thinks he deserves whatever he wants at any given moment, due to the fact that he is royalty in the other realm. That's not to say he can't be sweet and lovely when he wants to be: the film switches back and forth between Thor's family troubles in Asgard and the budding relationship between Thor and the smitten Natalie Portman. It shows that Thor has human qualities that all of us have experienced, and it grounds the film in at least some sort of reality that is relatable.
     I haven't even explored the family drama between Thor and his brother that is the essence of much of the plot, and I won't here. To watch the drama is better than to explain it. Thor is just the fourth movie that Marvel has produced on their own (after the two Iron Man films and the lesser The Incredible Hulk). They have clearly hit their stride. Thor hits you like the blunt head of a hammer: it's interesting, original, and the special effects are unlike anything I have seen recently. Branagh's direction, specifically the friction of family that echoes his previous Shakespeare efforts, works much better than expected in the superhero genre. Above all, it's entertaining, which is the key to creating successful summer blockbusters.     (B+)

What You'll Want to be Watching:

                                                     
                                              Wilfred

      Upon my weekly viewings of Season 2 of Justified, one of the better televisions shows to be released within the past 2 years (also with its Season 2 finale in a few days, and we all know Raylan is gonna bring some Hell to Mags and the Bennett clan), I have seen a number of advertisements for a quirky little comedy called Wilfred. The ads are short but amusing and funny. FX network's new comedy starting this summer, Wilfred, come to find out, is actually an American remake of a semi-popular Australian show, which--after HBO's amazing Australian series Summer Heights High--is just what viewers should be asking for: a show that's funny while also interesting and weird, something that could be called the anti-Two and a Half Men.
     The story is simple but has plenty of potential: Ryan is a young man trying to be successful in today's world to no real effect. He is depressed and feels like there is no point anything at all. (I swear this isn't about me...).  Ryan forms a promising relationship with his neighbor's dog, Wilfred.  Unfortunately (or fortunately) for Ryan, the entire world other than him sees Wilfred as the cute little dog that he is, but Ryan sees Wilfred as a vulgar and brash Australian man dressed up in a cheap dog suit. Hopefully, Hilarity ensues. According to many different synopses of the series, Wilfred leads Ryan on many different funny and existential adventures that help him discover the humor and happiness of life.
     It's quite easy to be skeptical. As one can see from the picture at the top of this blog post, Frodo himself (Elijah Wood) is the main star other than the dog. But I think that Wood gets a bad wrap as a little pussy hobbit with homo-erotic tendencies. Did you see him stand up to the scary Macaulay Culkin in 1993's The Good Son?  He was also creepy as fuck as cannibal killer Kevin in Sin City. I think he can pull off sad and depressed, due to the state of his career as a whole. Some might say that remakes of shows are never as good as the original, and that's generally a true statement (For instance, the British The Office is far superior to the dumber, less clever American version starring the one-note Steve Carell). But this remake also stars Jason Gann as Wilfred, who co-created and starred in the original series. So the talent is still there. Let us hope that the laughs are, too.