>>            

Read These First
One Hand Clapping
By Chris Ryall
RSS Channel
For anyone with an RSS Newsreader
The Old Site
From the Movie
Film Columns
Film Flam Flummox
By Michael Dequina
From Print to Screen
By Matthew Savelloni
The Good, The Bad & The Ugly
By Matt Singer
International Intrigue
By Alison Veneto
Lights! Cameras! Zombies
By John McLean
Nocturnal Admissions
By D.K. Holm
Strange Impersonation
By Kim Morgan
Trailer Park
By Christopher Stipp
Theater
From Screen to Stage
By Kevin Hylton
DVD
DVD Diatribe
By D.K. Holm
DVD Late Show
By Christopher Mills
Poop Shoot Entertainment
Game On!
By Ian Bonds
The Inner View
Celebrity Interviews
Kentucky Fried Rasslin'
By Scott Bowden
Mail Shoot
By Us and You!
Squib Central
By Joshua Jabcuga
Toy Box
By Michael Crawford
TV Pilot Review
By Chris Ryall
TV Recommendations
By Chris Ryall
Movie Poop Shoot Web Comics
Spook'd
By Stevenson and Damoose
Brat-Halla
By Stevenson and Damoose
Power Hour
By Odjick and Austin
Enchanted Mayhem
By DeBerry and Cunard
Femme Noir
By Mills and Staton
Captain Capitalism
By Brad Graeber
Comics
All Ages
By Tracy (& Shelby & Sarah) Edmunds
Comics 101
By Scott Tipton
Preachin' from the Longbox
By Britt Schramm
Should It Be a Movie
By Marc Mason
Music
Music for the Masses
By M.C. Bell
Books
Back to Movie Poop Shoot
Home - back to the Poop Shoot


Week of March 13, 2006

You can take "The Peacemaker," "Deep Impact," and "The Tuxedo." We'll take "Gladiator," "American Beauty" and anything else that didn't suck.

Emilio's 17

Yeah, like he needed all that overpriced crap anyway...

This lawsuit's going to make 'House Party' look like 'House Party Two!'

I told you... don't call me SENIOR!!

Maybe this is all a bad dream too?

Thanks Sharon, but I think I'll wait until this one comes out on DVD (so I can freeze frame of course)

There is absolutely, positively no nepotism in Hollywood. None.

You're good, baby, I'll give you that... but me? I'm magic.

This band will go down like a lead balloon

Well, Goodbye there Children...

They can't sell the Capitol Records building! What will be left to destroy in the next crappy 'end of the world' movie?

Same old Courtney - still sponging off Kurt

Panic on the streets of Austin

You're a fat, Botox faced, wig-wearing ninny! Oh yeah? Well your band has a dirty H addict as a lead singer!

Black Sabbath, Blondie, Miles Davis, The Sex Pistols, Lynyrd Skynyrd Enter Rock Hall



01 THE BREAK-UP $39.17
$12759/av

02 X-MEN: THE LAST STAND $34.02
$9159/av

03 OVER THE HEDGE $20.65
$5170/avg

04 THE DAVINCI CODE $18.61
$4953/avg

05 MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III $4.68
$1756/avg

06 POSEIDON $3.49
$1283/avg

07 RV $3.20
$1469/avg

08 SEE NO EVIL $2.04
$1607/avg

09 AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH $1.36
$17615/avg

10 JUST MY LUCK $855K
$892/avg









 


 
Windmills

 

I don’t know what I expected to feel after my first 24 hours of the Toronto Film Festival…but I'm not feeling it, whatever that might be. When a brief but impassioned argument over a documentary with the sometimes tyrannical and intolerant David Poland (of www.thehotbutton.com) amounts to the only truly vivid festival experience thus far, you know something's missing.

The argument happened after a screening early this afternoon (Friday, September 6) of Keith Fulton and Luis Pepe's LOST IN LA MANCHA: THE UNMAKING OF DON QUIXOTE, the fourth film I've seen since hitting the festival circuit and which I've probably enjoyed the most so far. It concerned the movie itself, which is about director Terry Gilliam's ill-fated attempt to film THE MAN WHO KILLED DON QUIXOTE, a riff on the Don Quixote legend with France's Jean Rochefort as Cervantes' bearded septuagenarian dreamer and Johnny Depp as a time traveler from the 21st century.

The plug was pulled on Gilliam's movie roughly two years ago, and was caused by one thing -- Rochefort's 70-year-old aching lower back. His inability to return to the Spanish set from his home in France after only a week's worth of shooting, apparently due to genuine medical concern on the part of his doctor (but which may have also been partly caused by psychosomatic stress, or so Gilliam suggests at one point during the film), answers the question posed by the title. Rochefort is that man.

But after listening to Rochefort's reading of a few lines of dialogue, I realized it was actually Gilliam who killed THE MAN WHO KILLED DON QUIXOTE … since it was he who hired Rochefort, who instantly struck me as being visually and perhaps emotionally perfect for the role, but linguistically impossible. He's supposed to be playing, after all, an aged Spanish character in an English-language film, and speaking, of course (since he had only begun to learn to speak English a few months earlier), with an accent gunkier than melted Brie.

On top of which Rochefort bears more than a passing resemblance to John Neville, who starred in Gilliam's 1988 financial fiasco THE ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. I decided seconds after seeing a trailer for that film I didn't want to see it, and this was largely because I didn't find the idea of an ornate, fantastical film starring the then-fiftyish, beady-eyed Neville very appealing. Thousands must have had a similar impression, or the film would have sold more tickets. You'd think Gilliam would have learned something from this and perhaps thought twice before casting Rochefort, who looks like he could be Neville's grumpy French uncle, in yet another lavish blend of kitsch, whimsy and historical fancy.

Anyway, Poland tried to shout me down for having the ignorance and the impudence to advance such an opinion. I don’t get Gilliam, I wouldn't have gotten the film if it had been released, I have the tastes of a Philistine, and so on. The fact is that I'm sometimes able to muster the courage to render an honest, blunt opinion that doesn't necessarily conform to the elitist mode of processing movies that some critics subscribe to, and this sometimes infuriates Poland. I don't know why. Sometimes a little common sense is a good thing.

The theme of both Cervantes' DON QUIXOTE and Fulton and Pepe's documentary centers on the tension and conflict between dreams and reality. To be a good director, the documentary says, you have to be an impossible dreamer, to some extent. Gilliam is quoted in the press kit that making a film "is essentially about two things -- belief and momentum." What happened on THE MAN WHO KILLED DON QUIXOTE is that momentum stopped when Rochefort's back went out, and then belief withered away. Reality beat the fantasy.

Bottom line: If someone had talked Terry Gilliam out of hiring Jean Rochefort and his aching lower sacroiliac, the $32-million film would have probably been produced and seen by now. It might have tanked financially anyway (I don’t believe there's any way audiences would have put up with an impenetrably French-accented Don Quixote in a medieval Spanish milieu, speaking English-language dialogue) but at least it wouldn’t have shut down and Fulton and Pepe wouldn't have had such good material to work with.

What this all amounts to, aside from considerations about David Poland's personality when he's tired and irritable, is that LOST IN LA MANCHA is a stirring, thoughtful film about filmmaking. It is sometimes sad and sometimes hilarious, and definitely worth seeing.

Briefs

The other three I've seen so far have seemed either pretty good or slightly better than that. None quickened my pulse, exactly, but two seemed relatively sturdy and respectable, and they haven't yet faded upon reflection. Yet.

Pedro Almodovar's TALK TO HER is basically about a couple of sentimental guys who cry very easily and probably love too deeply, and have both been unfortunate enough to fall in love with women who've slipped into comas. It has some lovely ballet dancing sequences that will be, once it opens, easily worth the price of admission. They're probably the most haunting, ripely sensuous dance sequences in any Spanish film since Carlos Saura's CARMEN.

Neil Jordan's THE GOOD THIEF, a Mediterranean caper flick starring Nick Nolte and Ralph Fiennes, is the least of the lot thus far, but has at least a somewhat more layered and intriguing approach to thievery than OCEAN'S 11.

Peter Kosminsky's WHITE OLEANDER (Warner Brothers) is a fairly strong domestic drama about a teenage girl (Alison Lohman) who is shunted from one dysfunctional living situation after another by the state after her histrionic, self-involved artist mother (Michelle Pfeiffer) is imprisoned for poisoning her boyfriend. Pfeiffer is especially strong and commanding in what will probably turn out to be one of the biggest scores of her career.

Funkitudes

Like the Detroit-rooted ‘60s soul music it celebrates, STANDING IN THE SHADOWS OF MOTOWN is a pulsing, heartfelt high. The Artisan release will play at the Toronto Film Festival on Wednesday and Thursday, 9/11 and 9/12, and hits screens on November 15.

Formatively, it’s a documentary tribute to the Funk Brothers -- a group of heretofore unsung studio musicans (seven surviving, 13 overall) who not only provided the instrumental alchemy on nearly every Motown pop tune recorded from the early ‘60s to early ‘70s, but in fact created that mix of funk, spirit and intoxication most of us hear in our heads when we think of the word "Motown."

You name 'em, they played 'em -- “Heat Wave," "I Heard It Through the Grapevine," "Reach Out (I'll Be There,)" "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," "Cool Jerk," etc.

Berry Gordy, the still-reigning king of that famous music-generating empire, says the Funk Brothers were “indispensable” in creating the sound that he and numerous Motown performing artists -- Smoky Robinson, the Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, and the Supremes, to name but a few -- got famous with and made lots of money off. Of course, if Gordy had been in a similarly gracious state of mind in the '60s and spread the credit around when it mattered, no one would've made a Funk Brothers documentary. Producer Allan Slutsky's 1989 tribute book, also called STANDING IN THE SHADOWS OF MOTOWN, would probably never have been written because music fans would've known about the guys all along, and so there would've been no point in a movie asking its audience, "Say, have you heard of these guys … because they were really on it back when, and they still are."

Don’t expect to see any finger-pointing at Gordy or anything else of a bone-picking nature in this almost excessively good-natured film. If it had been me instead of producer-arranger Slutsky and director Paul Justman pulling the controls, SHADOWS would have offered up a bad guy or two, or at least some element to hiss at.

The simple mission of this movie is to alert every music lover within earshot about how good and special these guys were, and still are. Honor them, it implores -- give them their due. I can’t imagine anyone exposed to this tender-hearted history film resisting any part of this message.

Structurally it tells the history of Motown, introduces us to each of the seven survivors ("Black Jack" Ashford, Bob Babbitt, Johnny Griffith, Joe Hunter, Uriel Jones, Joe Messina, Eddie "Chank" Williams), reminisces about six who've passed on (including the legendary bassist James Jamerson, who was inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame a couple of years ago), and punctuates with fresh concert footage of the guys cranking out the oldies with Joan Osbourne, Bootsy Collins, Chaka Khan, Ben Harper and other singers.

I was invited to a small concert given by the Funk Brothers last Tuesday evening, following a screening of the film at the American Cinematheque's Egyptian Theatre. The show was awesome -- one of the most rousing and joyous live performances I've ever witnessed. The raw power of the music -- the boomy bass tones, the perfectly calibrated harmonies, the simple liveness of it all -- was a major turn-on. Lamentably, the Funk Brothers won’t be playing in Toronto next week, but they'll be going on tour starting in early '03.

Cheers to everyone involved in the making of this film, but especially to Slutsky, who's been nurturing the project for decades, almost. Everyone owes a round of thanks, also, to consulting producer Jonathan Dana, who's been engineering the selling and promotion of SHADOWS since late last year.



 

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR | ARCHIVES

Email Jeffrey
Got a comment or tip? Send it in!

Archive
Want more Hollywood Confidential? Check out our archive.
Speculation that the New York Film Festival "snubbed" Wes Anderson's The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou is untrue, according to a spokesperson. The festival committee saw Aquatic last June, in tandem with plans to open the sea-faring comedy-drama in October or thereabouts. And while "they liked it and wanted it," a decision was later made for Touchstone to open Aquatic in December, and the notion of a NYFF debut didn't seem quite as desirable.
Aquatic's opening is set for 12.10 in New York and Los Angeles, and 12.24 wide. I would normally be scratching my head over the title expansion (i.e., adding with Steve Zissou), as this sort of thing usually indicates indecision and therefore trouble on some level. But here the addition sounds droll and all of a piece, as with all things Anderson. I also imagine that Anderson, like any director from Spielberg on down, welcomed the extra time to tweak and fine-tune.
A suggestion that may not save the James Bond franchise, but will at least halt its downhill slide: arrange for producers Michael Wilson and Barbara Broccoli to be gently but firmly kidnapped and then taken to an undislcosed location (somewhere in Southeast Asia would be best), where they will be kept in two lavish homes under house arrest, with allowances for family visitations. Once this is done, all serious interest in Eric Bana playing the new 007 will cease and Wilson and Broccoli's successors can look at other options.
One of these options should, of course, be to shut the series down. Just because the Bond movies continue to make money doesn't mean they're dead inside, and that one of most compassionate acts anyone could do would be to fire a bullet into the skull of this outdated, cliche-ridden franchise and walk away proud....like Pierce Brosnan has done. Bana is said to be unsure about stepping into the 007 series, according to London's Evening Standard. The tabloid says an offer has gone out to him but that Bana is "currently deciding whether it's something he really wants to sign up [for]." Translation: he's heard the Wilson-Broccoli stories. Eric Bana would be to the 007 tradition as Lex Barker was to the Tarzan series in the 1950s.
A suggestion that may not save the James Bond franchise, but will at least halt its downhill slide: arrange for producers Michael Wilson and Barbara Broccoli to be gently but firmly kidnapped and then taken to an undislcosed location (somewhere in Southeast Asia would be best), where they will be kept in two lavish homes under house arrest, with allowances for family visitations. Once this is done, all serious interest in Eric Bana playing the new 007 will cease and Wilson and Broccoli's successors can look at other options.
One of these options should, of course, be to shut the series down. Just because the Bond movies continue to make money doesn't mean they're dead inside, and that one of most compassionate acts anyone could do would be to fire a bullet into the skull of this outdated, cliche-ridden franchise and walk away proud....like Pierce Brosnan has done. Bana is said to be unsure about stepping into the 007 series, according to London's Evening Standard. The tabloid says an offer has gone out to him but that Bana is "currently deciding whether it's something he really wants to sign up [for]." Translation: he's heard the Wilson-Broccoli stories. Eric Bana would be to the 007 tradition as Lex Barker was to the Tarzan series in the 1950s.
Hold up on that rumble about the conniving heavyweight behind Ted Griffin's firing off the Graduate-sequel flick not being Jennifer Aniston, but costar Kevin Costner. The Fly on theWall guy claimed in an 8.16 posting, using quotes from an anonymous crew member, that Griffin's dismissal "was totally Kevin's fault, not Jennifer's."
But now another guy who was right in the thick of the situation says this account is "completely false," due to the fact that "Costner hadn't started working" on the film at the time Griffin's dismissal went down. Hey, I'm just passing this along.
The Entertainment Weekly cover (#779-780) asks if Johnny Depp's performance as J.M. Barrie in Finding Neverland (Miramax, 10.22) will deliver a Best Actor Oscar...and in so doing indicates an obvious rooting interest on the part of EW staffers (film critics Owen Gleiberman and/or Liza Schwarzbaum, it's safe to presume) in at least helping Depp land a nomination. In the face of such a boldly-put suggestion, I think it's fair to offer a counter-opinion, which is that Depp's acting in this tenderly composed biopic may be too exacting for its own good.
In other words, Depp seems to really "get" the eccentric Scottish playwright who wrote Peter Pan , who, according to the press notes, was said to have a quiet, puckish personality and always spoke in a low burr. And that's Depp in the film. The problem is that his Barrie seems so internal, so into his own quiet determinations and oddball kindnesses, that you feel a strange urge to strangle him after a while. Plus there's something too actorly about his Scottish accent; it sounds at once uncertain and overly studied. In short, Depp did everything right...and in so doing created a character and a vibe that feels curiously wrong.
You like a filmmaker, you find him/her intriguing, you try to show interest and support and....test pattern. I became curious about Abel Ferrara's supposed next film, Mary, in which Vincent Gallo will play an actor playing Jesus Christ in a film-within-the-film. (This, at least, is what the Brown Bunny star-director-producer told me last week.) The focus of Mary, says Gallo, is the actress who plays the mother of Christ, and who experiences a kind of spiritual satori as a result of immersing herself in the part. The film, Gallo adds, is supposed to shoot in Rome in late September or early October.
But of course, there can be no contact whatsoever with Ferrara. The guy almost never calls back anyone, I've heard. It's always, "I'll call you." An e-mail to Ferrara's Rome-based producer resulted in zip. Ferrara's New York attorney, Jay Julien, professed a general ignorance about Mary, and couldn't direct me to anyone with a history of replying to phone calls who might. I've learned that whenever it's this much trouble to get hold of someone, it's usually not worth the effort in the first place.
Sofia Coppola is set to direct a period costume drama about Marie Antoinette and husband King Louis XVI for Columbia. Wigs and hoop gowns, the French revolution, let 'em eat cake, the guillotine...all that good stuff. This is a joke, right? The reasonably talented Sofia hasn't shown a glimmer of the kind of commanding, exacting vision that the lensing of any historical drama of this sort would require. I mean, presuming Columbia wants something at least half as good, say, as Barry Lyndon, which they probably couldn't care less about.
But I am looking forward to watching Kirsten Dunst, who will play Antoinette, get her head cut off. And you have to admire the sense of humor that Coppola and her casting director have shown in choosing Jason Schwartzman ("Max" in Rushmore) to play her husband Louis. If they stick to history, he'll also lose his head. Valor, Max...valor! You won't feel a thing. A tickling sensation, your head falls in the basket, everything turns numb, and then blackness. You can do that standing on your head. Oops..sorry.
Regarding the recent death of King Kong star Fay Wray, Move City News' David Poland wrote that Peter Jackson, director of an all-new King Kong flick, "wanted Ms. Wray to close his film with the 'Twas Beauty That Killed The Beast' line, but, ever the lady, Ms. Wray was unwilling (though attempts at persuasion continued) because she felt it would be arrogant to call the character she played -- and thus, herself -- a beauty."
Apart from the utterly nonsensical thinking conveyed in Wray's alleged view, the item is another worrisome indicator that Jackson's King Kong is going to be way too Jackson-y. (Which is to say movie-mucky to the point of suffocation.) Can you imagine a line as important as that one -- the big closer! -- given to a 96 year-old woman as an affectionate gesture, however heartfelt on Jackson's part? Art is art and emotions are emotions, and never the twain shall meet. If Jackson is handing out cameo kicker lines as tokens of respect to grand old ladies, forget it....it's over. John Ford once told Nunnally Johnson that to be a good director you have to be a bit of a bastard. This, conversely speaking, may be Jackson's problem. He's too mushy, too much of a sweetheart.
This is old news now, but those people who described Collateral's box-office performance last weekend as "so-so" or " middling" or whatever were being a tad dismissive. Unfair, really. A movie as dark as this one, with a gray-haired Tom Cruise playing a cold-hearted assassin, is doing great by taking in $24 million during its first weekend. Only three other Cruise films -- Minority Report and the two Mission Impossible's -- have had better openers.
And Exhibitor Relations' Paul Dergarabedian must have been smokin' some strong stuff before telling the New York Times' Sharon Waxman that Collateral "is not a movie that can be supported by teenagers." He's saying...what? That teenagers can't deal with urban thrillers about cops and hit men and what-all? That beautifully rendered mood and ace dialogue don't impress them? I should add there was a different reaction to the film when I saw it with a paying crowd last weekend. They didn't applaud, but the two industry crowds I saw it with earlier did. Hmmmm.
Ben Affleck was his usual glib self during his hanging-out-in-Boston segment with Katie Couric a couple of days ago...same-old, same-old...but something different happened when he did a chat thing with Hardball's Chris Matthews on Tuesday afternoon. He was focused, sharp, and quick, and had some very cogent things to say about Kerry-vs.-Bush, voter sentiments and the general lay of the land.
In other words, he did himself a huge favor. For the first time in a very long time Affleck was suddenly about something besides Bennifer, chasing girls, iffy movies and gambling sprees. He said he might want to jump into politics down the road, since the movie career thing has its limits in terms of feeling fulfilled or spiritually nourished. He also told Matthews he'd like to have his job, and Matthews said in response, "I do fear you."












Addicted to Bad
by Patrick Keller

International Intrigue
by Alison Veneto

Nocturnal Admissions
by D.K. Holm

Strange Impersonation
by Kim Morgan

Trailer Park
by Christopher Stipp




New DVD Releases
for April 11, 2006

DVD Diatribe
by D.K. Holm

DVD Late Show
by Christopher Mills




Preachin' from the Longbox
by Britt Schramm

Should It Be a Movie?
by Marc Mason

New Comic Book Releases
for April 12, 2006, 2006




New CD Releases
for April 11, 2006

Music for the Masses
by M.C. Bell




TV Recommendations
Boob toob picks of the week by Chris Ryall

Kentucky Fried Rasslin'
by Scott Bowden

TV Pilot Review Archives
by Chris Ryall



                        © Copyright 2002-2006 Movie Poop Shoot