I MAKE TWO SHOCKING REVIEWS!-BENJAMIN BUTTON+VALKYRIE

Curious Case of Benjamin Button-
Step right up, kids, and see the world's first movie aquarium! Watch countless colorful characters float around aimlessly in a glass case!!! 'Cause that's what you get in "Curious Case of Benjamin Button", aka "The One Wear Brad Pitt Ages Backwards." And that's all the plot their is-Benjamin (Pitt, duh), ages backwards while his love Daisy (Cate Blanchett, the most beautiful actress alive today) ages forwards, and the two go off and see the ups and downs of the wide wide world while waiting for the day their biological clocks will meet in the middle. Sounds like a damned good plot, no?? Too bad it ended up in the wrong hands. David Fincher is a brilliant director, don't get me wrong. But the guy who directed "Se7en" and "Fight Club" helming a great romantic epic? Hellz no. Fincher almost seems embarrassed to be making something so heartfelt-he specializes in the cold, bruising, and shocking. So, afraid he might, you know, cause an audience member to shed a tear or something, he sucks the emotion out of his own movie. It always looks phenomenal-the opening, with Benjamin being born amongst a WWI peace-making celebration, is visual lead-in for the ages-and the actors given nicely organic performances-particularly Tilda Swinton as the British spy Button vents his sexual frustrations on. But what's missing is a sense of caring, of love, the love that the film celebrates so in its script, but that is lost in the final product. Oh, and did I mention this juggernaut feels every lazy second of its three-hour run time? This is the latest in a new era of modern film-one where emotion is out-of-vogue, replaced by a beautiful but frigid minimalism. It'll still win the Academy Award for Best Picture-but "Curious Case Of Benjamin Button" will also join the pantheon of the countless victors who didn't really deserve it. C+
Valkyrie-
On the flip side, "Valkyrie" came out of nowhere and blindsided me. It's the true story of a one-eyed wounded Nazi Colonel (Tom Cruise, not even trying for a German accent) who embarked on a blunt-force suicide mission to kill Hitler. In what could be called an anti-Button case, director Bryan Singer lets his film overflow with tension, emotion and white-knuckle, balls-out terror. Although we all know the outcome, enough suspense (never has a suitcase been such a scary object in movie history) is wrung from the ins and outs of the operation itself that one almost forgets what really did occur. A who's who of British thesps-Bernard Hill, Tom Wilkinson, Kenneth Branagh-pop up in small but smartly calibrated performances, and Bill Nighy (yes, Davy Joneeesssssss!), as a fellow anti-Hitler officer who doesn't see eye-to-eye with Stauffenberg, tears into the role with his typical head-spinning vigor. What's most surprising though is that, in the end, after all the missing limbs, explosives, shouted dialogue, backroom meetings, and detailed blueprints, it's an emotionally truthful spirit of passionate, motivated rebellion that ultimately defines this most surprising thriller. A-

I Make Movie Review :Doubting "Doubt"

So maybe I had my expectations too high. Okay, actually, with Meryl Streep and Phillip Seymour Hoffman sharing the screen, the Second Coming couldn't have met my expectations. What's so disappointing about "Doubt"-what is not a half-bad movie, mind you-is that the two's pairing is not as orgasmic and earth-shakingly as many imagined it would be-and the sad part is, it isn't the thespians fault. As members of the clergy in a power struggle concerning the well being of a 60's Catholic schools first black student, the two actors adapt handsomely crafted Bronx accents and steely stares. When the two clash (as they do on a handful of occasions), you sense that these two actors were excited to tear into the raw meat of such a beefy story. The problem is, director John Patrick Shanley (who directed from his own Broadway play), hasn't provided said meat for said Oscar-winners to munch on. Afraid that his little play won't live up to the big screen, Shanley makes the fatal mistake of slicing the careful structure of the story to ribbons and leaving the talented actors to sink their teeth into what little is left of his initially clever-sounding story idea-a sneaky bit of irony here, a fairly-strong line there. "Doubt" feels rushed, and we the audience never have a spare second to take sides or think about the goings-on. What remains is an unfocused string of well-acted, over-directed, and all too short scenes. Viola Davis, playing the mother of the abused boy, is getting all the Oscar buzz, but I truly am not feeling it. Instead, for moi at least, this film's saving grace is by and far Amy Adams. Playing an innocent young nun dragged into this mess, Adams seems almost eerily immersed in the part. She says more with a glance and a piece of gristle than the other actors manage to do with entire paragraphs of dialogue. When she finally does let loose, it's in front of Streep, and, against all odds, a twinkling of genuine emotion is brought out. In all fairness, this story is not an easy one to tell on film, and Shanley doesn't fail completely-his behind the scenes team is top-notch, and the final scene with Streep and Adams alone in a snow-covered garden is an indication of what could've been had Shanley sat back and allowed his actors to act. As it is, "Doubt" is never boring (even if it the pacing is blink-and-you'll-miss-it-fast) and the subject matter(handled evenly and tastefully I must say) leaves plenty of room for a truly fascinating after-movie debate. Ultimately, perhaps its appropriate that a movie about a guilt-based faith is both rewarding and frustrating in equal doses. B-

I Make Movie Reviews (Plural, bitches!): Slumdog Millionaire and Milk

Slumdog Millionaire
Half of it isn't in English, there are no major stars, and the main characters are waiters, whores, and hustlyers. So why should you give a rabid rat's ass about "Slumdog Millionaire"? Because it's a deliriously moving experience and the best film of the year, that's why. I know I toot my horn a lot about overlooked movies, but dammit, this one deserves to be seen. The story? Jamal (the scrappy Dev Patel), who serves tea for a living, goes on the Indian version of "Who Wants to Be A Millionaire", in order to gain the attention of his childhood sweetheart, who he was separated from at a young age and who knows leads a life of forced prostitution. The shocker is that he becomes an intellectual wunderkind who wins over the hearts of thousands of commoners as he inches closer to his goal of ten million rupees. It could be a hokey story, but what director Danny Boyle (working in tandem with the superbly expressive Patel) does brilliantly is make you fall madly, deliriously in love with Jamal and his quest from the moment you meet him. This is the first film I've seen in ages that prompted startled gasps, raucous laughter, and spontaneous applause, not just from me, but from the entire audience. It's also features the most straight-shooting, unabashedly tear-jerking romance of any film since Casablanca. If you love drama, romance, political intrigue, world history, slapstick humour, psychological intricacy, photography (India has never looked so good), Dickensian tragedy, gangster epics, globe-spanning thrillers, music videos (AR Rahman's score is a beautiful listen all by itself), or any of the above, then you will be fall just as hard for this delightful, breathlessly hopeful genre-bender of a film as I did. A

Milk
Dramatic gestures! Subway hook-ups! Gay sex! No, this isn't a summary of the average life in the theatre. This is what takes place within the first five minutes of "Milk". It's a chronicle of Harvey Milk (Sean Penn), the first openly gay man elected to public office. The movie itself is a heady, steamy mixture of ideas and agendas that often becomes frustrating and impenetrable. Having said that, set this one out and miss two modern day movie messiahs giving the performances of their careers. Even when the story veers off course, Penn always keeps us riveted with a performance that often feels more like a possession. This, we think, must be what it was like to see the real Milk speaking-to sense the fervid fire that burned steadily in an unexceptional Average Joe of a man who bravely crusaded for a cause simply because no one else would. The other astounding performance comes from Josh Brolin as Dan White, a homophobic co-worker of Milk's whose slow-burning insanity and confused ideals lead to the chain reaction of Earth-shaking tragedies that occur in the film's final act. Brolin never plays him as crude or evil, but instead as a man who refuses to change his shape to fit a progressing world, and who in fact believes it should work vice versa. Ultimately, these performers stir something in your soul, and you leave this imperfect but cleverly crafted, of-the-moment film with a desire to fight for something-anything, really-that deserves fighting for. A-

Musicals That Aren't "Gay": "Gypsy"

Too often musical theatre is identified with homosexuality or senility. Sure, lots of impotent old men and perfectly potent gays (I have nothing against either group) enjoy a good Broadway show, but believe it or not there ARE good, cutting-edge productions out there! You wouldn't know it though, because all you ever hear about are old, blah shows that can be lumped into the "old, gay" category! "Lil' Abner." "Oklahoma." Musical theatre my ass! Thus, occasionally I will present to you a truly great, timeless musical. You won't like 'em all. But someone in there I bet one will catch your eye, your ear, your heart. I WILL sell you on the power of theatre if I have to do the hokey-pokey in a puddle of piss.
TODAY'S SHOW:
"Gypsy"-
What it's about: Rose Hovick and her agent/sometime lover Herbie, are driving June and Louise, Rose's kids from a failed marriage, down the complicated road of showbiz. As time goes on, Rose becomes jealous of her children's talent and begins to obsessively manage their careers. Ultimately, June runs off and starts her own act, and Herbie leaves, tired of Rose's domineering personality. Louise becomes a famous stripper, and shuts her mother out of her life entirely. In the thrilling final moments, Rose is left alone on stage to perform a delusional fake striptease, exorcise old demons, and generally suffer a mental breakdown that leaves her capable of saying only the words "FOR ME! FOR ME!". Louise walks in on her mother in mental shambles and helps her up as the curtain falls, visibly shaken.
Why you'll hear it's "gay": The sad usual. Crappy community theatre productions and overdone movie versions have given "Gypsy" a bad rap.
Why it's great: "Gypsy" is an unusually complex musical. It starts off as a typical relationship drama, but it doesn't end where you think it would-how many shows end with their lead character on the brink of total insanity. The final breakdown, "Rose's Turn" is the most brilliantly constructed and surprising four minutes in the history of theatre. Several productions of the show have been put on professionally, but only the recent revival (I SAW IT) starring, in my opinion, the greatest living entertainer, Patti LuPone, managed to do the slam-dunk material justice.
The Scene: From the LuPone production. June has just run off, and Rose sings a disturbingly seductive (and oh so catchy jingle) to persuade her other daughter into the spotlight.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXl10a9gJwA&feature=related

I Make Movie Review: "Rachel Getting Married"

Early Oscar buzz tends to rape a film (anally, very hard) and leave it for dead. People get sick of the movie, pass it like a kidney stone, and forget it all together come awards time. It happened to "Dreamgirls" and "Atonement". And "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" and "Brokeback Mountain". Heaven forbid Oscar buzz kills the chances of "Rachel Getting Married", cause this one deserves some serious awards attention. Anne Hathaway is guaranteed some overdue love as Kym, a toxically self-absorbed nutjob released from rehab to attend her sister Rachel(Rosemarie DeWitt)'s wedding. Weaving a troubled tapestry of venal self-abuse and still reeling from a years-old family tragedy, Kym is out to rip open old wounds and get some vicarious kicks through the pain of the all-too-real, all-too-flawed wedding guests. Sound like a soap opera? Hell to the no. Screenwriter Jenny Lumet and director Jonathan Demme refuse to let you watch this madness unfold from a distance. With long takes and careful pacing, they insist that you involve yourself in this mosaic of very real family troubles, demand that you care. And care you do-thanks to the ensemble cast. There isn't a single weak link in the entire core group of actors, a rarity in this day and age. Particular stand-outs are Bill Irwin, subtly affecting as the girls doting dad, DeWitt, who can convey a thousand meanings with her simple but piercing smile, and Debra Winger as Kym's estranged mother, whose third-act temper tantrum is one of the most jarring scenes ever committed to celluloid. At the center of it all is Hathaway, who lets every quicksilver emotion play out on her face-and not just the obvious ones. Is it perfect? No. The climactic wedding is painfully drawn out, and the laundry list of troubled pasts becomes a bit of a bother to keep up with. Still, stick with this flawed gem, because "Rachel Getting Married" is what happens when a group of fearless artists get together to make something ballsy yet accessible. A-

The Overture (an explanation)

You don't like overtures. No one does. In fact, many would argue the overture was introduced simply to give a theatre going audience a chance to finish that candy, call the babysitter, or finish their bout of mental masturbation to a hot actress with windblown plastic hair whose photograph appears in the program. Believe it or not, the overture has a purpose; introduce the central melodies and motifs of the show, and get people in the mood for a helluva night at the theatre. Modern productions of shows cut overtures and I don't like it. The audience is baptized head on into this world of the stage,not primed for it and eased into it. "Gypsy" has the perfect overture-its wildly shifting keys, jazzy brass, and urgent drums prepare us for a night of glittery, old-fashioned showbiz delight paired with shrewd, deeply felt backstage drama. My point is, if you are willing to actually LISTEN, a well-done overture eases your mind out of the daily grind and filters it into a new world-the one a dedicated cast and crew has worked hard to create for you. Plus, by the time you have finished the overture, you should have a pretty solid idea regarding exactly what world you will be entering-I don't think anyone listens to the opening notes of "Les Miserables" and expects gold hats and dancing chorus girls. So before I plunge you head for into MY weird world, I think you deserve an overture of sorts-or at least a warning of what you're getting into.
I am an actor, a writer, a singer. These are the things I do.
I love often and easily.
I eat frequently and unhealthily.
I dance rarely and terribly.
I think, all the time and generally about meaningless things.
I philosophize, endlessly and at length.
And most importantly, I change, minute by minute, breath by breath.
In this blog I will try to sort out my own life and attempt to point you, the flabbergasted reader, towards art that needs to be appreciated, or ideas that need to be spread.
Or sometimes I will just let my thoughts bleed onto cyber-paper as if they came directly from the slit throat of an innocent, white-tailed bunny.
We shall see.
End Overture.
Curtain up!