Wanted

So, here's a confession that likely won't shock anyone. . . I never really liked the Matrix. The first film, sure, it had that distopian, bleak, yet highly evolved view of the future that's interesting to contemplate. Plus it was sleek. But sleek is nothing compared to the fact that Wanted is both sleek AND sexy. It is both post-modern and contemporary. It has a formalist edge that made Fight Club sexy as fuck; and carries the signature gloss that Timur Bekmambetov brought to Night Watch and Day Watch (two Russian horror/action films that MUST be watched).

Wanted appealed to me on so many more levels than I ever expected it would. It begins as a cubicle rat named Wesley (my beloved James McAvoy) goes about his daily life. This is Jack from Fight Club multiplied, bleached of sarcasm, and 3 times as grim. This is what Jack would have been without a Tyler Durden. His girlfriend is a bitch who is gleefully fucking his phony as hell best friend. His boss is an evil fat cow who wields her Swingline stapler in a manner Office Space's Milton would consider a wet dream. Wesley is a nobody, who is not satisfied to be as such, but has no initiative to change it.

Until he meets Fox.

She, very aptly named, is played by Angelina Jolie, who might have been just slightly too skinny in this role, but is otherwise her typical hot as hell self. She approaches Wesley in the pharmacy one day and tells him his father (whom he never knew) is dead. This propels them both into one hell of a shoot out/car chase scene between a Dodge Viper and bread truck. Pretty slick stuff, really, with poor Wesley squirming and wailing the whole time.

Turns out Wesley was born to be one of a brotherhood of assassins known as The Fraternity. His father was among them, and now he must kill them man who murdered his father. He is rigorously trained, gets his comeuppance against those who wronged him in his boring days, and participates in some pretty amazing action sequences.

Plus, Anton from Night Watch is in it! (small cheer from the Russian fandom section)

Basically, if for no other reason, this film is worth it for the final shoot out action sequence, which rivals and surpasses most anything I have seen in recent memory.

**** out of *****
4 out of 5

PS -
For the Danny Elfman sung "The Little Things" which plays over the end credits, a solid 5 out of 5. Man needs to put out a rock album.

One Foot in the Grave

It's sometimes nice to be in the particular position of being able to read more than one book in a series back to back. It's the reason I've held off on reading The Night Watch and Twilight series' all the way through, because I really wanted to read them ALL the way through.

When I started reading the Cat Crawfield series, there were only two books available, and after reading half of the first, I bought the second, and read them back to back. Where the first novel left off, Cat had abandoned Bones to protect him, and had gone to work for the FBI as a special agent in charge of hunting vampires in top secret cases.

Yea, it's basically as silly as it sounds.

And of course, Bones shows up. . . as a surprise groomsman no less (a subplot with Cat's friend, Denise, and Denise's impromptu fiancee was left a little bare and I thought it could have been developed into something a little better.) Furthermore, if Cat views any of Bones' ex lovers and "voluptuous" with "bouncing" breasts, I'm going to heave.

The one major sex scene in the book was a little bit overboard as well, and Frost has begun to dip into the unnecessary bisexual overtones, with Cat being flirted with and manhandled by a female vampire.

It was decent, but didn't live up to either the tone or expectation of the first. The third comes out today, and will hopefully regain some momentum.

**.5 out of *****
2.5 out of 5

Halfway to the Grave

There's no secret. . . I love paranormal romance novels. I'm writing a paranormal romance novel. I understand they are silly, cheesy, and implausible. I know that most of them (I'm looking at you, Laurell K. Hamilton) fall off the edge into the abyss of bad taste. That's why I like to look for new, fledgling series, where they haven't had time to jump the shark (or perhaps, I should coin a new term, like "fuck the swan king.")

Anyway, since Anita Blake fucked the swan king a long way back, I decided to try out Jeanine Frost's Cat Crawfield series. In the first book, you definitely need to grimace your way past the first several chapters, where the writing and heroine leave a lot to be desired. Cat in naive, and hardheaded. She's a half-vampire, who is taking out her rage on those of her kind by hunting and killing male vampires who believe she's make an easy meal. Cat, needless to say, has some Daddy issues.

And Jeanine Frost clearly has a literary hard on for Spike from Buffy, because her main male character IS Spike. A lean, fiercely jaw boned, British, platinum blonde vampire named Bones. It's both irritating and distracting that she couldn't even disguise the character in the slightest.

Once you make your way past the first few painful chapters, though, you can get into the book a little better. Cat is fighting herself not to fall in love with a creature she was raised to hate, and she also learns how to better combat those very creatures. It's a fun, frivolous book that doesn't overdo it on the sex scenes (though there's a relatively well written one that brought a flush to my cheeks on the bus).

It takes a lot of the annoyance out of reading the Anita Blake series, while maintaining the simpler aspects of the action and the romance. As the book draws to a close you even find yourself hard pressed to put it down.

*** out of *****
3 out of 5

The Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am

Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not is one of those debut albums that gets the music nerds really, really excited. Before "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" made it big as a single, a friend sent me a version of "Red Light Indicates Doors are Secured" and I was a little bit hooked.

When the album came out in 2006, it was came during a point in North America when UK bands were on an upswing again and as a result is was something of a hit.

Much like my love of The Strokes' Is This It, I almost feel guilty for liking the Arctic Monkeys simply because they represent a phase of sheer popularity of a genre for no good reason. And it's not their fault, because they deserve their success. Whatever People Say I Am is a solid, upbeat, pop-rock album with Cockney attitude thrown in for flavour. It would be great to hear in a small club atmosphere, and certain songs would be equally welcome on a dancefloor.

Standout tracks: "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor," "Red Light Indicates Doors are Secured" and "Perhaps Vampires is a bit Strong, but. . ." (they also followed the trend of ridiculous and unnecessarily long song titles that was abundant in that era).

***.5 out of *****
3.5 out of 5

Spaced (The Complete Series)

I love Simon Pegg.

Before watching Spaced, in its entirety in about 4 days (no small feat when you work 7 days a week and spend a total of about 8 hours at home in any given day, 6 of which should ideally be spent sleeping), I really, really liked Pegg.

Now I kind of want to move to England and birth his children.

Pegg is probably best known for his role as Shaun in the hit rom-zom-com Shaun of the Dead (a film which is on my Perfect Movies list). He was also fantastic in the follow-up action parody, Hot Fuzz. Pegg, and his regular sidekick/co-star Nick Frost, both have a knack for fully embracing the genre which they are satirizing, so you end up with a movie that could just as easily join the ranks of it's source material, as much as is could be considered a comedy twist.

With Spaced, we see Pegg's comedic starts, and you can certainly see where the clever, hilarious, pop-culture steeped roots of his later films began. Pegg partners with Jessica Stevenson, a slightly pudgy "everywoman" type, who just happens to be a gifted comedic writer and a great actress as well, and together they play Tim & Daisy.

Tim has just been chucked by his live in girlfriend, and Daisy is at her wit's end living with her stoner flatmates. They meet at a coffee shop, and over the course of several weeks of failed searching for apartments, they agree to pose as a couple in order to secure the perfect flat. Thus is the premise of Spaced established.

The supporting cast is made up of Tim and Daisy's respective best mates Mike (a weapon's expert, played by the hilarious Nick Frost) and Twist, a ditsy, rude blonde who works in fashion (aka a laundromat). In their new flat they meet Marsha, their middle-aged, alcoholic landlady (Julia Deakin is fabulous in this role), and the fidgety, socially awkward artist Brian, who lives below them (Mark Heap, as Brian, has created one of my absolute favorite supporting characters of all time).

As the two 8 episode seasons unfold, so to do the multitude of movie and television references, and more than that, the relationships between the characters deepen and become exponentially more real. Tim and Daisy are versions of people we all know, they are versions of ourselves.

The show has many strengths, but I primarily appreciated their sense of continuity. When Daisy gets Collin, her dog, it is not a one episode gag. Collin sticks around for the long haul, and become a slight character unto himself. Marsha's nearly invisible daughter Amber is never seen as more than a pair of legs running away. Mike and Tim's troubled past is always documented through a flashback sequence to two children together, one with Mike's signature mustache, before being interrupted; and by season 2 you know exactly what to expect when someone asks what Brian paints (anger. . . sadness. . . rage)

The show is witty, charming, and abundantly fun. My only complaint was that the series finale lacked the conclusion I was hoping for, and that it didn't last nearly long enough (where's the movie like we got with Extras or the Office?)

Keep your eyes peeled for the Ricky Gervais cameo in season 2.

**** out of *****
4 out of 5

Jens Lekman - "When I Said I Wanted to Be Your Dog"

In a chat conversation while listening to Jens Lekman for the first time, I made the following comments:

""you are the light" is like a smiths song covered by a lounge singer"

"if richard cheese had a better voice and played for indie kids, and covered the smiths, that would be jens lekman."

And while, as the album progresses, it becomes apparent that Lekman has more in common with the Smiths themselves than a Richard Cheese (especially on tracks like the haunting "Silvia" and the moody melancholy of "The Cold Swedish Winter"). Lekman sort of sneaks up on you. The second track on the album almost sweeps by before you realize he's singing "Happy Birthday," and then "You Are the Light" is a surprisingly upbeat tune about getting arrested.

It's entirely refreshing to hear an artist who is more than just what they seem like on the surface.

**** out of *****
4 out of 5

Matt Mays - Matt Mays

If I'm going to be honest, there are two very specific reasons why I like Matt Mays (and additionally Matt Mays & El Torpedo):

1.) Matt Mays reminds me of Ryan Adams (and, additionally, Ryan Adams & the Cardinals)
2.) Matt Mays is the kind of music you would listen to on a night highway when you are in a car driving away from something important towards something new.

Neither of these two reasons should take away from the fact that Matt Mays is a talented and very impressive artist. The guitar riffs are solid, the lyrics are decent cowboy-poetry. It is Marlboro Man indie rock. It's music sung by the disheveled looking guy in a plaid shirt drinking herbal tea at Starbucks but scoffing the "Establishment." He will drink straight whiskey in concert, but take home a girl who shops at American Apparel.

Standout tracks, "Your Heart" which might as well be a Ryan Adams b-side from the recording of Jacksonville City Nights, and "Where Am I Going?"

Matt Mays' self-titled album lacks the rock quality of an album like Terminal Romance, but it certainly has its own quality to offer. It's a quality indie-rock album that turns into a quality alt-country album by the end. It's a little ADD, but a lot of good music.

***.5 out of *****
3.5 out of 5

Duffy - Rockferry

Duffy belongs to a category I refer to as "The Sober Winehouses." The other singer that gets this classification is the lovely and adorable Adele. Both of the UK singers have a similar sultry jazz style to Amy Winehouse, but neither suffers from the media spotlight that goes with being a raging alcoholic/drug addict.

Rockferry is potentially one of the best albums of 2008. It is slow, smooth and sexy. But at a turn it can be upbeat and danceable. Duffy's voice is smokey and perfectly suited to the material she is recording. I don't know if it's because she's Welsh and English is her second language, but there is something very different and alluring about the sound of her voice.

Duffy is the kind of singer you put on the stereo when you're with someone who you have dangerously conflicting motives towards. You want to hold their hand and share a milkshake, but you'd also like to rip off all their clothes and know them in a carnal capacity. That's what listening to Duffy is like, because either way, the soundtrack fits.

Standout tracks will obviously include the megahit "Mercy" which, yes, is now stuck in your head; as well as the titular "Rockferry" and, well. . . the whole damned record is standout.

****.5 out of *****
4.5 out of 5

Upcoming Reviews for the Week of December 1

Halfway in the Grave by Jeaniene Frost

Dark Horse by Nickelback (a song by song review)

Spaced (the Complete Series)

Twilight (film)

My public opinion of Stephanie Meyer's novel "Twilight" never made it to this page, as it fell during the lazy 10 months I was not updating this blog. The bonus of not having a book review to reflect upon while reviewing the film adaptation is that I am not going to be made to look silly by my previous statements. However, I will admit, I did enjoy Twilight the novel a great deal, and when I re-read the series from book 1-4 as I intend to do either this month or come January, I doubt my opinion will have changed much.

The thing I liked the most about Twilight, both the book and the film, is that they satisfy a part of me that craves more innocent fare. It's the part that thinks Taylor Swift is a swell kid, and believes that "Lovebug" by the Jonas Brothers is a sweet, unabashed puppy-love anthem. That part of me that would rather read the November Glamour article "70 ways to restore your faith in love" rather than Cosmo's "70 sex positions to blow his mind." Twilight, much like the Harry Potter series before it, is a "literary" serial intended for tweens, that has embraced by a much wider audience.

Without treading too much on the strengths and weaknesses of the book, as that is for a different review, I will say that Twilight lacked the deeper complexities of the Potter books. It was a simple, fun read. It was an epic love story for the 14 and under set. Buffy and Angel for a new generation, only the heroine was significantly less kick ass. Not bad. . . but, you know, not exactly a masterpiece (which I genuinely believe that the Harry Potter series is. . . Chronicles of Narnia for the aughts.)

Twilight, the film, is a very true adaptation of the book. In fact, I very rarely see film adaptations so close to the source material. I'm sure die-hard Twilighters will scoff. They will point out that Bella's blood related pass out in Biology was missing; that they added murders not present in the novel to make the the plot a little tighter; and that the dialogue was not precise.

Oddly, my first annoyance was that the high school in Forks was presented as one solid building, rather than a compound of smaller ones. So I guess, deep down, there's a bit of a Twilighter in all of us.

The story, if you've been living under a rock, revolves around selfless, accident prone Bella Swan. I say selfless and accident prone, because these are Bella's ONLY character traits. They, along with her devotion to Edward, are the only things to define her, and it's one of my biggest annoyances with the books. And the movie. Although, I will say, Kristen Stewart brings a level of charm and likeability to Bella that is simply absent from her written counterpart. Furthermore, she is simply beautiful. She is not Bella as Bella sees herself, but she is exact to Bella as I imagined Edward would perceive her.

Ah, yes. Edward. Edward Cullen. Edward is the character Stephanie Meyer created in order to attempt her hand at our generations Angel meets Mr. Darcy. He is complicated, he is broody, he is arrogant and demanding. Often I also find him overbearing and stalkerish. However, hundreds of thousands of women aged 13-53 would expose their jugular to this imaginary man in a heartbeat, so perhaps Meyer was a success.

Edward, played by Robert Pattinson (Cedric Diggory in the HP films, so the lad has his hands in many an epic series), wasn't quite what I had anticipated. At first, he was not PRETTY enough, his hair not red enough, blah blah blah. But I was drawn in by Pattinson, and ultimately found his performance more than acceptable, and in fact was definitely "Team Edward" by the time the credits rolled.

The casting director, for their part, did an excellent job. I found myself saying "That's Mike" "That's Jessica" before they were formally introduced. My only wtf moment was "Wait. . . Eric's Asian?" But honestly, the supporting cast barely matters, as this is, and always will be, the Edward and Bella show. (Though props to Billy Burke who made me like Bella's dad about 200x more)

The film is often preposterously silly. I found myself giggling hysterically at the most inappropriate moments (most notably the scene where Edward shows his glittery skin for the first time). But, honestly, the book was pretty eye-roll inducing at times too. And toward the end of the film, I found both giggles and eye-rolling to become reduced, and that I was actually drawn into the love story, and the 15 year old girl inside me was a little exposed.

Sure, it left me behaving like a 15 year old for several hours after, but it was sort of worth it.

With all 4 books now optioned, and production under way on the sequel "New Moon" I don't see this fad fading any time soon.

*** out of *****
3 out of 5

Amy Winehouse - Frank

Today, while playing Amy Winehouse's Frank in my store, an older gentleman inquired as to who was singing. He'd never heard of Amy Winehouse, knew nothing about her rocky marriage or her consuming addictions to drugs and alcohol. All he knew was that she was "fabulous."

And listening to Frank, you realize that he's absolutely correct. Before all the bullshit, and the media frenzy, and the world watching to see just when Winehouse would go too far, there was a young women with the voice of a 60 year old jazz singer.

There are no songs on this album to recall the catchy pop of "Rehab" or "You Know That I'm No Good" from her sophomore release Back to Black. Frank is just an old school jazz voice over electronic beats. It's such a simple concept, and it's wildly effective. Frank is an exceedingly listenable album because it DOESN'T get stuck in your head. It swims through and leaves you nodding unintentionally, and longing to listen again, but it doesn't stick.

It's not to say that Frank lacks for single material. Songs like "You Sent Me Flying," "Fuck Me Pumps," and "What is it About Men" are all excellent stand-outs. But this is not an album about songs, it is an album that is most effective as a whole, and is certainly worth listening to as such.

***.5 out of *****
3.5 out of 5

Freaxxx

There really are no words. So I don't know if it's a review or not. . .

But if you don't get to the 2 minute mark, where they start choking a bored looking dancer while they scream "liar" at her over and over, then you've only cheated yourself.




let's get freaky now, let's get freaky now. . . (I don't waste my time with lesbians)


* out of ***** for sheer necessity to keep watching it.
1 out of 5

Taylor Swift - Fearless

Today at work, I was accused of having bad taste in music. The primary argument being that I like Matthew Good, which I hardly think is an argument at all. In my defense, I did point out that one of my accusers didn't even KNOW what kind of music he liked. I, at least, am able to acknowledge and admit what I enjoy.

And, yes, I like Taylor Swift.

My cousin Kim warned me that Swift's live show will typically engender mostly disdain, and proves that she likely employs the kind of melody enhancing, pitch perfecting post-production that transforms artists like Fall Out Boy from pure shit live, to something listenable recorded (and believe me, it only takes one track off the FOB live album to know they suck live).

I like Taylor Swift primarily because there is something sweet, and wholesome, and genuine about her. She's an 18 year old girl who sings about life and love and high school, and things that are within the realm of knowledge of an 18 year old girl.

Fearless was the much anticipated sophomore effort, following her hugely successful self-titled debut. While there are no tracks on Fearless that stand out in the same way that previous singles like "Tim McGraw", "Teardrops on My Guitar" or "Picture to Burn" did, it's still a very solid country-pop album.

Excellent tracks worth a listen are: "Fearless", "Fifteen" and "Love Story".

Swift may be young, but it is remarkable to see a girl her age writing her own music and being successful at it. Swift certainly has a bright future ahead of her. . . even if it is just because of sweet lyrics and excellent production value.

***.5 out of *****
3.5 out of 5

James Blunt with Luke Doucet (Live in Concert)

November 24, 7:30pm, MTS Centre.

Ohhh, I really wanted to be super cool and say "yea, whatevs dudes, James Blunt is super lame." And to be honest, if we were just talking about his music, I'd call it schmaltzy but catchy love-pop. But a friend of mine scored 4th row tickets to see Blunt live, with one of my favorite local acts opening for him, so who was I to refuse?

I am really glad I went.

I would never have expected to use words like "dynamic" or "high energy" or "spectacle" to describe a James Blunt concert. I honestly anticipated he would sit at a piano for 90 minutes and wail his standards like "You're Beautiful" while flashing his crazy eyes at the audience. And while that DID happen, it happened amid a 100 foot wall of video screens, Blunty running wild into the audience to do a session in the round, and a genuinely very charismatic performer (he embodies my favorite portmanteau: charmisma). He ended the encore with his major hit 1973, and rode a piano like a surf board under a giant disco ball before the ceiling exploded with confetti. It was CHEESY, but damn it was a good time.

Luke Doucet, who was a surprising opener, was incredible live, and did an honest-to-god autograph signing, where I met him and his incredibly talented wife Melissa McClelland, who deserves better than being his lead guitar. She opened for Matt Good's solo tour for Pete's sake.

All in all, it was an incredible, and surprising show.

***.5 out of *****
3.5 out of 5

The Guilty Pleasure Television Trifecta

There's a moment, half way through the first (and hopefully only) season of "Paris Hilton it my New BFF", where the titular heiress is reclining in a velvet chaise, her 4 inch heels propped up just so, and with the hint of a smile she asks "I wonder how bad this could get?"

Thusfar, the season has offered us Roller-coaster glam shots; frenemy make-unders; a wildly effeminate Asian boy named Onch who was basically Nicole Richie's Eastern, gay, male counterpart; and potentially my favorite quote of the television season: "It's sweet that you have feelings!" The bid-adieu line is "ttyn" which means "talk to you never" and it said by a half-bored Hilton while she sits in a white throne and holds a diamond scepter. Meanwhile her would-be BFFs clamor around her, and bitch out those "up for discussion" in their Sunday best, while someone will invariably tell Paris "nice dress."

My favorite contender, by far, is Brittany, who is a loudmouthed, sassy girl who seems to be in on her own joke. But there's also Corrie, the Anna Farris look-a-like who once, tearfully, announced "back home they call me Bikini Corrie because I. EARNED. IT." This is how she argued why she should stay. Then later confessed her good luck charm was a tiny gnome. Not to be overlooked is Vanessa, the Rachael Leigh Cook double-take who CRIES EVERY EPISODE at the drop of a hat.

I hate to admit it, but just because it's not quality television doesn't mean it isn't fun as hell to watch.

But "Paris Hilton is my New BFF" is by no means the extent of Star!'s guilty pleasure viewing. No, no. It is merely one part of their mighty trifecta.

The two other all-important parts are America's Next Top Model (up to it's staggering 11th "cycle") and TMZ.

ANTM this season was just too brilliant to avoid. It featured many wildly unattractive girls who photographed "really editorial." Also, its claim to fame was Isis, the series' first transgendered model hopeful. Honestly, in the past, enough of the girls looked dude-ish enough that Isis wasn't really that jarring. (Cycle 10's Marvita? Even 11's Marjorie had her man-moments). There were all the ANTM standards: Cover Girl photo shoots; the obviously bitchy girl (Elina, who was GORGEOUS, but could never relax), and the girl you WANT to win, who doesn't (Analeigh, who was basically the cutest, most talented of the lot, but lacked McKey's redonculous legs and her "tough" poses). ANTM has really NOTHING of value to offer. . . yet I still needed to know who would photograph best in the theme "red carpet disasters."

And lastly, as for nothing to offer, is TMZ, the icing on the guilty pleasure cake. It's a show, based on a WEBSITE, that basically just has a bunch of people sitting around a news room yelling gossip at each other. The TMZ camera crew is notorious for asking the dumbest questions possible to celebrities such as "Hey, Will Farrell! What are your thoughts on Val Kilmer running to by mayor of Mexico?" [Kilmer is, in fact, considering running for governor of New Mexico]. Harvey Levin is TMZ's ring leader, and he basically leans against a cubicle wall and sips what I can only assume is straight scotch out of a coffee thermos with a straw (which my mother is convinced he will one day poke himself in the eye with). It's train wreck TV, and it is SPECTACULAR.

For a good 3 hours every Saturday I cannot move from my couch. It's dangerous, yet it's sort of awesome at the same time.

Paris Hilton is My New BFF: *** out of ***** (3 out of 5)
America's Next Top Model (Cycle 11): ***.5 out of ***** (3.5 out of 5)
TMZ: *** out of ***** (3 out of 5)

Quantum of Solace

Two things:

1) Triple the number of occurrences of truly well-fitting khakis. Fuck yes.

2) Daniel Craig is the BEST BOND EVER.

**** out of *****
4 out of 5

Zack and Miri Make a Porno

There's an argument among film fans that basically says Kevin Smith started to go downhill following Dogma. These are the people that write off how smarmily meta Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back was; or don't appreciate the turn Smith tried to take with Jersey Girl. Clerks 2, for the most part, was a bit of a filmic jerk off, but it was fun.

So depending on what camp you're in, Zack and Miri could have either been much anticipated or much dreaded.

It is, undoubtedly, a Kevin Smith film. It is perverse, crass, clever and funny as hell. It's smart, but smart enough not to rub it in your face, and more than anything, it accomplishes what he tried to do in Jersey Girl. It tells a sweet and genuine story, in the guise of tit and shit jokes (and oh, mercy, does Smith deliver the mother of all shit jokes in this movie).

Aside from being just a Smith movie, it is also a very Apatowian (though without any actual Apatow involvement). The film features Seth Rogen, playing Seth Rogen, and Elizabeth Banks who I now have a massive girl-crush on. If you ever wanted to see what happened in the 40 Year Old Virgin after Rogen joined Banks in the bathtub? This is not that movie.

What it is, however, it a laugh out loud comedy, with utterly perfect portrayals by Rogen and Banks, not to mention an incredible cameo by Justin Long, and great supporting roles played by The Office's Craig Robinson, and Smith alum Jason Mewes (with short hair, and some off-putting full frontal nudity) and Jeff Anderson. Even real-life porn stars Traci Lords and Katie Morgan turn in decent and believable performances.

Having now seen the film twice, I feel secure in announcing it as a return to solid form for Smith. All the director standards are there: hockey, Star Wars, but somehow it all feels fresh, and when you take the shock value of the title away, what remains is a clever and sweet romantic comedy. . . with a lot of fake boobs and didlos.

****.5 out of *****
4.5 out of 5

The Harlequin (Anita Blake Book 15)

I don't think it's unfair to say that when I discovered Laurell K. Hamilton in high school, I was at just the right age and maturity level to appreciate her work. Anyone who reads the current incarnations of Hamilton's work, specifically the later Anita Blake novels, and the whole Merry Gentry series, would probably find such a statement a bit shocking. As time has passed, Hamilton's works have gone from being fun paranormal mysteries, with high tension romance, and some smatterings of Harlequin (no pun intended in this specific review) sex scenes, but nothing too overboard. . .

Looking back, I recall that the first novel in the Anita Blake series, my beloved Guilty Pleasures, had naught but one single kiss in its pages. The necromancer, zombie raising, vampire executioner heroine didn't even have sex with anyone until probably book 4 or 5. Instead Hamilton focused on crimes, and mysteries, and the books were hella fun to read. Then, some time following Obsidian Butterfly (my first encounter with the series, but the 9th actual book in the series) something began to change.

Anita got a little. . . slutty.

But dedicated as I was, I kept right on reading, I even bought several of the books in hardcover because I wanted to know so badly how things would progress. And sadly, they progressed poorly. By book 14, Danse Macabre, I was getting more than a little annoyed with Hamilton and her over-sexualized series. So much so, that I said enough was enough, and swore to never venture into the series ever again.

Then people began to tell me "no, Ashley, we swear, it's gotten better." I scoffed and argued that Danse Macabre's actual plot could have been compressed into 2 chapters of the 50 chapter novel. The remaining 48 chapters had been largely smut, and most of the prose therein was overwhelmingly purple. But they kept insisting, and so I caved. I coughed up $9 and bought book 15, The Harlequin, in paperback.

And you know what? It wasn't bad. It was at least 1/3 into the book before ANYONE had sex. It by no means lived up to the expectations set by the original Blake novels (I suggest reading books 1-9 and then stopping, or venture forth at your own risk). There was, however, one thing that bothered me INTENSELY.

With about 1/4 left in the book, just prior to the confrontation with the novel's "big bad" (to borrow a Buffy phrase), Hamilton suddenly and without warning, changes the name of her villainess from Mercia to Columbine. Not only does it demonstrate poor editing, but for such an error to pass from hardcover into paperback just seems sloppy. Worse, still? It's not the first time it's happened. In Blue Moon (Book 8) she makes a similar error, changing a character's name from Betsy to Betty. It is a frustrating and jarring error. However, I was willing to forgive it somewhat because of Hamilton's return to focus on plot over porn.

Hopefully Book 16, which I refuse to buy in hardcover, will carry on the trend.

**.5 out of *****
2.5 out of 5

Guns n' Roses - Chinese Democracy

So. . . it's finally out!

And everyone in America is entitled to free Dr. Pepper!

And it arrived before ACTUAL Chinese Democracy.





oh. . . the music?



meh.

*** out of *****
3 out of 5

Je Retournee!

That's right, I'm re-igniting my effort!!! With a new resolution to read more, and a new motivation to listen to my music thanks to iTunes cover-flow, I am going to make a brave and possibly foolish effort to start posting daily reviews.

Steve McQueen Week: The Getaway

"Punch it, baby."
- Doc McCoy

My journey through the filmography of Steve McQueen continues with The Getaway, a heist flick from 1972, co-starring Ali MacGraw (best known for her sappy Love Story role.)
I have yet to be disappointed by any of the McQueen films I've seen so far, and The Getaway was no different. A great action movie, I think the thing I really liked about this movie is that it never dumbed itself down for the audience. So much of the plot goes unspoken, that the twists are genuinely surprising, and the movie takes more than one watch to really capture the nuances of exactly what is happening. If the films maintain the caliber, I may have to take back my negative comments about movies from the 70s.

McQueen plays Doc McCoy, a down on his luck convict who just can't catch a break. When he is refused parole, he sends his devoted wife Carol (MacGraw) in to negotiate his release with a high level official. Doc's plan was that Carol would offer his services as a talented bank robber, however Carol also sleeps with the official, which leads to a great deal of friction later in the film. Doc is released, and sets up a bank robbery that will net the prison boss a cool $500,000. But when things go awry, he and Carol end up on the run from the law, from one of their partners in crime, and a slew of other problems they can't seem to shake, including their own crumbling relationship.

McQueen, as usual, is spot on as Doc, even in the moments where he's unexpectedly raw in is inability to fully readjust to life outside of prison. He is subtle enough to pull it off with real gusto, to the point that when Doc smacks Carol around on the side of the highway, you aren't shocked but rather accepting of it as what he feels she deserves at the time. MacGraw, on the other hand, did nothing to win me over. She had none of the charm of some of McQueen's other leading ladies (especially Natalie Wood). She was inclined to overdo it a bit too much, but she was pretty. Boney as hell, but pretty. McQueen must have agreed, because this was the film that caused both he and MacGraw to leave their spouses and marry each other. A young and exceeding thin Sally Struthers is also featured as the irritatingly slutty Fran, and when she gets her comeuppance from McQueen in a stairwell, it's incredibly satisfying.

Overall, The Getaway works as one hell of an action flick. It's bloody and intense, and the action sequences are a marvel. It also has a sense of humour to keep from getting too overwhelming. There's a great scene where Carol is trying to get the car in gear, and nearly backs over Doc before they can make a getaway.

The movie was remade in 1994 featuring Alec Baldwin and Kim Basinger. I dimly recall seeing it years ago, but it lacked any of the punch of this one. Highly recommended, but only if you can handle a fair amount of violence, some of it directed towards women.

***.5 out of *****
3.5 out of 5

Steve McQueen Week: Love with the Proper Stranger

I don't know what it is. First time in my life I come to see a girl, I feel like I'm 14 years old. Even when I was 14, I didn't feel like that.
- Rocky

There is a very definite difference between romantic comedies today, and those of the 60s and earlier. There was a sense of immediacy to the early rom-coms that is missing now. In modern romantic comedy, it is acceptable to allow the passing of weeks, months, even years, before there is any real finale or resolution. Whereas their early counterparts tended to show the classic whirlwind romances, that spanned mere days. I think, ultimately, the difference was that in the 60s, the belief in the real possibility of love was very genuine. It did not seem like a stretch for people to meet cute, and then fall in love through a series of ridiculous circumstances (see: Bringing Up Baby for the perfect definition of this). In a way I vastly prefer this form of romance because it is more whimsical, and more. . . romantic.

I was watching my new favorite channel (Turner Classic Movies) this weekend, while suffering through a bout of pink eye, and the announcer informed me they would be airing Love with the Proper Stranger, a movie I had never in my life heard of. And honestly, what made me want to watch it was the alusions made to Knocked Up one of my favorite films of 2007.

The plot is pretty basic. A scoundral jazz musician, Rocky, played by Steve McQueen (the role I will always now attribute to teaching me that I loved McQueen), had a one night stand with the lovely Angie, played by Natalie Wood, which resulted in her becoming pregnant. Rocky has no immediate recollection of their time together, when Angie comes to inform him of the outcome. All she asks him for is a doctor. (Bear in mind that in 1963, abortion was still a big scandal, and didn't happen out in the open). Angie's family is strict Italian-Catholic, so the entire event is clouded in shame for her (pre-marital sex, pregnancy, abortion). Rocky, for his part, is equally conflicted by the situation. He foolishly asks his live in girlfriend Barbie if she theoretically knows of any doctors, but she of course sees through it and kicks him to the curb.

Thus begins the series of events that bring the two together romantically rather than physically. Angie and Rocky get together the money for the abortionist, and while waiting to meet the doctor, are spotted by her protective brothers, and led on a chase through Manhatten by foot. They end up in an old factory, and spend time actually learning about each other as people, and find that the connection between them remains, in spite of their sordid past, and Rocky's questionable present. When they eventually reach the abortionist, the situation becomes quite frightening, as Rocky realizes the dangers that face Angie in the unsterile and unprofessional environment.

Rocky decides to make an honest woman of Angie, after the situation becomes apparent to her brothers. But Angie, to her credit, wants nothing to do with it. She refuses to marry Rocky simply out of a sense of duty. It is touching to watch McQueen especially in these scenes, where he is exposed as a genuinely emotional man. Of course, it's a romance, and you know they are meant to be together, but the bulk of the movie is their attempt to push each other away.

Wood is luminous. She is understated when necessary, and melodramatic when it is called for. She is beautiful beyond words in a refined Hepburn-esque manner, but it is her strength that is so refreshing. She faces everything alone, but with her head held high, and I believe Angie's character represents a truly engaging independent woman for her era, in spite of the connections she insists upon keeping.

McQueen, in my biased opinion, is perfect. He embraces the cheese necessary to make the film and character function. Every second he is on screen makes you aware of why they called him the King of Cool. He is. Self-aware and certain, even when he plays it unsure. He pulls off the roll of romantic lead just as easily as he plays a big action hero. He and Wood are both a joy to behold on screen.

The film isn't terribly unique by today's standards, but was likely well ahead of it's time in 1963. It is a genuine and warming love story, that happens in a hurry, but makes you believe that perhaps love is not so impossible after all.

(as a fair warning, Love with the Proper Stranger is NOT currently available on DVD, but if you have one of those old fashioned VCR-things, you can still get it on VHS)

***.5 of *****
3.5 out of 5

Steve McQueen Week: The Towering Inferno

Chief O'Hallorhan: No no, too dangerous, stay out of those elevators.

Flaker: Well then, sir, we'll just trot right up the stairs.

Chief O'Hallorhan: Yeah, you'll just trot right up to 79, huh?

Flaker: [chastened] Standing by in the lobby, sir.

I'm typically one of those people who believes that there is something generally kitschy about movies from the 70s. The bad hair, the ugly clothes, and the oddly washed out colour of the film. It lacks the romance of the still black and white movies of the 60s, and doesn't have the full flair of "technicolor" the way current movies do. I am aware how closed minded this makes me, and there are obviously going to be exceptions to the rule, such as this.

To kick off my newly minted "Steve McQueen Week", I need to discuss how awesome The Towering Inferno was. From my understanding, the 70s was a pretty big decade for disaster movies. Inferno was in the company of The Poseidon Adventure, Earthquake, Andromeda Strain, and a slew of sci-fi disaster dramas. I can't really make a direct comparison, as I have yet to see any of the other above listed films, but MAN did I love Towering Inferno.

The premise is pretty basic, and not unlike something that could be easily see in a mediocre disaster flick today. In San Fransisco, the world's tallest high rise is ready to celebrate it's dedication, which of course calls for a party. A few hours before the gala, Doug Roberts (Paul Newman) the well meaning architect, discovers that the contractor (Richard Chamberlain, of The Thorn Birds fame) has taken certain liberties with the quality of his building materials. Electrical shorts are causing concern, and then right before the party, a fire starts on the 81st floor. Doug insists that the party be cancelled, but James Duncan (William Holden), the wallet behind the "Glass Tower" will hear none of it, insisting that a fire on the 81st floor won't impact the party on the 135th floor.

What follows, of course, is pandemonium. The cast is an impressive who's who, including Faye Dunaway as Doug's girlfriend; Fred Astaire as a charming elderly con-man; O.J. Simpson as a righteous security guard; and Robert Wagner as a business executive.

Steve McQueen is fire chief O'Halloran, the smart, no-nonsense leader of the fire squads who appears about 1/3 of the way into the film. McQueen is simply mesmerizing to watch. His performace, as I'm beginning to see it the norm for him, lacks any of the overindulgent melodrama favoured by many actors of his generation. He is subtle and genuine. His role calls for him to play the tough guy hero, but he manages with only looks and gestures to provide O'Halloran with imense humanity, sympathy and dare I say emotion. You can see it when he looks over the bodies of his fallen men, he doesn't cry, he doesn't make a grand speach, rather he pauses and takes it in, his eyes speaking volumes, and then he carries on with his life, as he must do.

McQueen was originally offered the Newman role in the film, but fought for the O'Halloran part instead. He also insisted that he and Newman have the same number of lines, because he believed his performance would be good enough that the critics would appreciate it for it's quality, rather than because he had more screen time. And in the end, he was right. Newman, who is undisputedly one of the great actors of his generation, is dwarfed by McQueen at every turn. Where Newman is acting, McQueen IS O'Halloran. Watching the film it is easy to see how the two could have such a fierce Hollywood rivalry. Two rugged, handsome, blonde-haired, blue eyed men. But McQueen, far and away, embodies his roles more than any other actor of his time. And yes, he is sinfully cool. He, and you'll pardon the pun, smolders on the screen for every second he's there.

But the film does not necessarily need McQueen to be a quality piece of entertainment. He merely takes a good movie and turns it into an excellent one. Inferno is involving and well paced. It is long, without feeling so. Characters that you develop affection for do die, and often gruesomely. The special effects, for their time, are excellent, and the constant roar of the fire is intimidating and genuinely frightening.

Towards the end of the film, when it becomes apparent that there is only one resolution that will put out the fire, and it puts both Newman and McQueen in very genuine peril, I found myself short on breath and wrapping my hoodie around my head for some protection from what was going to happen. The Towering Inferno is just plain excellent, involving entertainment, for any decade.

Now let's just hope Hollywood doesn't feel the need to remake this one.

**** of *****
4 out of 5

still here

Hello all my readers (I believe there are, perhaps, three of you)!

I have not abandoned the blog. Rather, I did catch conjuctivitis, which is NOT sexy, and has totally thrown my weekend for a loop.

Fear not! Reviews will be plentiful soon. I went to the Frank Warren PostSecret lecture tonight, which was awesome, and I'm seeing Juno and Cloverfield this weekend, as well as 27 dresses next week. Woo! Nearly finished Jane Austen's Love and Friendship and am also working on Dead Souls and Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block. So plenty to look forward to.

I'm also thinking of doing an episode by episode recap/review of Lost when it comes back on. Perhaps.

Sunday Picks

Reading: Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol

Hearing: Weezer's Blue Album

Watching: Nothing, currently.

Starter for 10

"Just promise me you won't become a wanker." - Spencer

Starter for 10 is an adorable British rom-com that really takes the 80s influence very seriously. Set in 1985, it tells the story of Brian, a young man who has resolved all of his life to be as clever as possible. This mission has resulted in him knowing a slew of useless knowledge, lacking some equally important knowledge about life, and a general direction towards Bristol university and a turn on "University Challenge" a televised trivia show.

Along the way, things get thrown for a bit of a loop, as is prone to happen, when Brian meets Rebecca. Rebecca is beautiful, but not in a way that draws attention. She is smart, and funny, and motivated. Brian is drawn to her and everything seems like it should work out beautifully, only then the movie would last about 24 minutes. Instead, while trying out for University Challege, Brian gets his first glimpse of Alice. Alice is a drama major. She is stunning, and blonde, wearing miniskirts everywhere, and using her sexuality to get whatever she wants. Of course, Brian decides he loves Alice. What follows is a comedy of errors, where Brian learns that knowing a lot of facts is not the same thing as knowing a lot. From a disastrous trip to Alice's cottage for the New Year, to the dramatic show down on live television, it is incredibly engaging to watch Brian discover what he really has to offer, and how that new knowledge ultimately changes what he wants, as he learns that it's ok to be who you are, rather than who you dreamed of being.

Brian is played by my current "It" boy James McAvoy (I'm not even going to be subtle about how much I simply ADORE James McAvoy, it can't be helped). Is a sweet, well-meaning kid. McAvoy plays him perfectly. Brian begins the movie awkward, difficult to watch. He is much like a more educated Anthony Michael Hall from Sixteen Candles only less self assured. As the movie progresses, however, you are drawn in to how nuanced McAvoy's performance really is. Brian's earnest looks, his deep sadness, his moments of confusion and joy, they are all true to form. Watching the movie both confirms exactly why I love McAvoy, but at the same time makes me wonder. He's such an awkward looking man, not typical of the Hollywood mold, and yet he is alluring. He is genuine and he is really a person you can relate to. A guy you'd want to date, if only you weren't too busy paying attention to the good looking jerk next to him.

The supporting cast is equally excellent. Rebecca Hall, who plays Rebecca Epstein, is positively the coolest chick I've seen in a movie recently. She bears a faint resemblance to Molly Ringwald, which makes her perfect for the idea of an 80s romantic comedy, but more than that, she just comes across as so relaxed in herself and in her character, that you shake your head at how foolish Brian could be to overlook her. She's a scarf and sweater, Converse wearing post-punk-beat-poet kinda girl, and there's something intensely likable to her aloofness. When she tells Brian sarcastically "I will learn to love again." with an eye roll for emphasis, you know she wants to believe it herself, more than she needs him to think she doesn't care. Alice Eve, who plays (shockingly) Alice, makes it difficult to hate her character. You realize, after awhile, that Alice doesn't mean for Brian to fall in love with her, she is just simply unable to behave any differently towards a boy like him than she always has. And Dominic Cooper, who plays Brian's rough-around-the-edges mate Spencer, spends much of the film looking like a greaser, or a Shark/Jet, but provides a certain sensitivity to his underprivileged character. Spencer is afraid of losing Brian as a friend now that he's swimming in the big pool, but finds it difficult to explain this and maintain his tough guy image. So he struggles throughout the film to maintain his friendship with Brian, without being fully able to express to Brian why it is so important.

Starter for 10 (a phrase which refers to the scoring system on "University Challenge" - starting question worth 10 points), should not be overlooked as merely another romantic comedy. It is smart, big hearted, and sometimes very sad. It is very much a movie about life, that is made more comfortable by pushing the setting back 20 years and creating some romantic turmoil. Brian is what many of us are, someone who is trying to claim a place for themselves, trying to be extraordinary, when satisfactory was meant to be their place in life. And more than just giving hope for romance, like most romantic comedies falsely do, Starter for 10 gives the hope that by embracing who we are is how we may truly become spectacular.

**** of *****
4 out of 5

Is This It?

"Is this the Killers?"
- Some guy in my store

I am perfectly aware that this is not a new album. I never promised you reviews of new and exciting music, I simply promised you reviews. And honestly, as I have now been listening to this album on a loop for roughly 6 hours (there's simply nothing better to listen to without searching around), I felt it would be the ideal time to throw out another music review.

Is This It? is not a great album, and I honestly think that's what works for it. I know that sounds strange, but realistically, I think albums that don't grab your attention are just as important as the ones you can't help but be distracted by. I was able to listen to the CD about 12 times today, and I'm still not sick of it. Really, how many albums can you say that about. Sure, their first major album doesn't include "Reptilia" which all you Guitar Hero/Rock Band gods drool for (reasonably, it's a fun song), but it's sort of a hidden gem of an album.

I get that it was HUGE when it first came out, during that initial garage rock movement of 2000/2001. I know everyone loved "Last Nite" (which is certainly a stand out track), but I think this album has a lot more to offer than that. It's just poppy enough to remain listenable time after time, and just rock enough not to drive you absolutely fucking mental. The vocals are unique (and no, I do not get the Killers connection at all).

The best songs of the album would likely be: "Is This It?", "Last Nite", "Soma", and "Barely Legal". Though, in all seriousness, there are no bad tracks on the disc.

Honestly, if you're looking for a good rock album that surpasses the genre in which is was created, and just want a really strong album that you can listen to again and again, I stand by Is This It? as a fantastic stand-by album, when you get bored of listening to what's new and exciting. And if that makes me uncool, then I don't care.

***.5 of *****
3.5 out of 5

Necklace of Kisses

"It's been so extraordinary," said Weetzie. "And I never use that word! Like a magical-realist book or a Fellini movie. I haven't this way in about ten years."

One of the remarkable things about reading almost any Francesca Lia Block novel is the way she is able to make Los Angeles and the Hollywood Hills seem to appear as a place of genuine magic. In spite of what we tend to know better, about smog and violence, pollution and a typically unromantic city, Block is able to make it beautiful.

The book is sequel of sorts of Block's Dangerous Angels series, featuring the punk-rock pixie Weetzie Bat and her diverse cast of friends, lovers and children. Weetzie, as heroine's go, is well meaning and kind. She is simple and self-involved the way most romantic heroine's are: her world is the only thing she needs to know about. But in Necklace of Kisses the world which she has carefully constructed is forced to confront reality. Her boyfriend of 20 years, Max, has spent the two years following September 11, 2001 in a deep funk, and it has literally drained their relationship of joy, love, and kisses. So Weetzie packs the essentials, thinking "what would Audrey [Hepburn] do?" and heads off to a pink hotel in search of her missing kisses. She is chasing a prom night memory, and isn't sure herself what she expects to find.

What does happen is possibly one of the first meta-magic-realism novels I've ever read. In her quest for discovery Weetzie meets a mermaid who has made herself into a Pamela Anderson look-a-like, she meets a fairy, a faun (named Pan, no less), an angel, a spider-woman, a genie and twelve dancing princesses. Many of the characters she meets are manifestations of references that Weetzie herself has made in previous chapters, and almost all of them are exactly what you expect them to be. With each kiss, Weetzie collects a physical gemstone (hence the title). There are very few surprises in Necklace of Kisses, but it doesn't make the book bad.

Necklace of Kisses is far from a perfect book. It is charming and sweet, and takes full advantage of the senses, like any good magic realism novel should. But Weetzie's own awareness of the magic realism aspects of the story in which she is involved are overwhelming, and almost make it not magic realism at all. The entire point of magic realism is that extraordinary things occur, and do not seem so impossible. By the end, Weetzie is resolved to the magic, however.

The book is an easy read, and is both fun and visceral. However a better option for those unfamiliar with Block's work would be to start with Dangerous Angels.

***.5 of *****
3.5 out of 5

Garden Spells

"Like every person who had ever fallen in love, Tyler Hughes wondered what the hell was wrong with him."

I had every intention of at least waiting a day before writing this review.  I just finished the book 15 minutes ago, and being that it is 3:30 in the morning it seems like a relatively crazy time to write a review, but I simply can't wait.

I'm afraid if I keep choosing my own book selections to read and review, we're going to have some difficulty coming up with negative reviews for this blog.  However, I am mightily proud of myself for finishing two books less than a week into the year.

I felt really apprehensive about this book in the first few pages.  From the description, and the expository detail, my skin prickled and my brain shouted "Practical Magic!"  Yes, Garden Spells shares an eerily similar premise to the Alice Hoffman novel/Sandra Bullock film (I will admit, I have not read Hoffman's novel, so I only have the film to base my comparison on).  The story centers on Claire Waverley, a mysterious and solitary woman who lives in a small Southern town and makes her living off of making food (with a specialty in edible flowers) that is known to make things. . . happen.  Furthermore, the aged apple tree in her back yard allegedly shows someone the most important event of their life after consuming one of the apples.  Waverley women are understood to be magical, and while their gifts are coveted, they themselves are not embraced by the town as a whole.

Claire's sister Sydney chose to escape from the small town scrutiny and left when she was eighteen, only to return 10 years later with a daughter, Bay, after escaping an abusive relationship.  

A story about magical sisters in a small town, sharing a big old house?  That's about where the parallels to Practical Magic end.  The women in Garden Spells are not witches.  The word is never even used once in the book.  They are merely women blessed with peculiar gifts, who learn with age how best to wield them.  The novel itself, is a lovely investigation of the human condition, entwined in a story full of magic realism.  The Waverley's apple tree is a character unto itself, hurling apples for attention, or dropping them in neighbours yards, delivering the unexpected invitation of "eat me" without ever speaking a word.

It is a book about life, told beautifully.  A story about the ability people have to both hold onto, and also release their most private hurts.  It's a story about healing, growing, compassion, and most importantly, it is a love story.  It manages to be a love story in the classic sense, illustrated in the dynamic between the chronic bachelorette Claire and her enticing new neighbour Tyler Hughes, a local art professor.   It is a love story also, about the bonds of family.  Whether it is Claire and Sydney's deep affections for their elderly relative Evanelle (whose Waverley gift is to deliver mysterious presents to people, whose purpose is revealed much later), or the growing bond between Claire and Sydney themselves.  Separated for a decade, and never close before that, the two sisters learn about their connection anew when Sydney reappears in Claire's life.  And lastly, it is a love story about self.  It is about learning to let go, and trust what was always there, and about learning fresh who you really are.

Garden Spells is Sarah Addison Allen's first novel, and is a triumph.  It is the best magic realism novel I've read since finding The Time Traveler's Wife two years ago, and left me holding my breath in anticipation for her sophomore effort.  The book is charming and elegant, like the Southern ladies it depicts.  Allen's attention to detail is inviting, leaving no taste or smell unrepresented.  I haven't felt this welcome in a book in ages, and it genuinely moved me to tears on more than one occasion (part of that could be the incredible connection I felt to Claire, sharing many of her fears).

This book was utterly enchanting, and will likely be the most lovely book I read this year (as sad as that is, considering that there are 360 of reading ahead).  I wasn't left sad at the end of the last page, as I often am after the end of a good book.  Rather, I felt lighter, and liberated.  I look forward to reading this book again, when I have need of a smile and the warmth of something sweet and familiar.

***** of *****

5 out of 5

Party Monster & Party Monster Shockumentary

"I'm not addicted to drugs, I'm addicted to glamour!"

When I first saw a clip of Seth Green wearing a blood spattered wedding dress, shrieking into flashing camera bulbs, all while listing off the sure-fire ways to make yourself famous (in the Paris Hilton sense), I thought. . . "oh! a comedy!"

Party Monster unfortunately, is no comedy. Is it funny to see Dylan McDermott in an eye patch? Yes. Is it hilarious to watch Macauly Culkin run around in platform shoes and little more than a hospital mask. Absolutely. But it's not funny in the classic sense of humour, so much as it's funny because you're too shocked to really be appalled.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think that Party Monster is a BAD movie, per se. Did I think the acting was terrible? Yes, I don't care how many critics lauded these performances. I don't care if it was meant to be over the top, or avant garde. To me it was just much too much to come across as even the least bit convincing. It was hypersexualized to the point where even I, the most outspoken fag-hag I know, actually felt the movie was a little "too gay." It seemed like straight actors doing their most outrageous impressions of the gayest men they knew. It was gay to the power of 1000.

More than anything, it was the best advert for anti-drugs that I've watched since Spun. I don't expect to find myself in a k-hole any time soon, probably moreso now than when I first watched the movie. It's a grim depiction of excess, and the fallout of a lifestyle devoted solely to seeing, being seen, and doing it all while as high as humanly possible.

The ridiculous lifestyle of New York's "Club Kids" are further investigated in Party Monster: the Shockumentary, the video on which Party Monster is based, both films having been directed by the same pair. Watching the documentary it is easy to see that very little creative effort needed to go into the film. Dialogue is taken directly from footage of Michael, James St. James and the rest of the Club Kid revolutionaries. Scenes are created frame by frame exactly as they were (the illegal subway party, for example, is almost impossible to differentiate between reality and fiction). The characters have been made better looking, one expects so it was easier to show to a mass audience, but the story remains unchanged.

These outcasts created a disturbed and grotesque environment, in which they were their own underworld gods. Morphing themselves into creatures barely human, often blurring lines between male and female, between gay and straight, they seemed to appeal to the outside world because of the freedom, and carefree winsome attitude they all seemed to possess. But the truth seems to be that they were all equally trapped, trading old internal demons for the chains of vice, and in the process turning their utopian club world into a hell on earth.  If you want the full experience, skip the movie and watch the shorter, more intense documentary instead.

Party Monster:

**.5 of *****

2.5 out of 5

Party Monster: Shockumentary

*** of *****

3 out of 5

Songs About Girls

Songs About Girls by Will.i.am

Yeah baby we'll be
High on love darling
We don't need to take drugs
Put away the alcohol
Kissing got us feeling buzzed
When you're next to me
It's like I'm on ecstacy
We be at it automatic sex like triple x movies
You a naughty lady
And sophisticated
I'll be honored baby
If you have my baby

- She's a Star

You know how you'll hear a new Black Eyed Peas song and about a day later you not only know all the lyrics, but you also can't get the damned thing out of your head? It's a pretty basic musical science that makes that possible:

- simple lyrics
- catchy tune
- incessant hook

Whether it's Fergie gurgling "no no no no. . . don't phunk with my heart" or "no no no no baby don't lie." (there's usually the presence of a "no no no no" line in later BEP songs. . . not to mention the dropping of the band's own name) the formula remains the same. And while Fergie took that formula and applied it with masterful success to the relatively crap-tastic, but incredibly listenable The Dutchess, her solo album, band mate Will.i.am has not had the same luck.

Will.i.am seems to have gotten a little perplexed by the formula, combining the "simple lyrics" and "incessant hook" parts of the formula into one. And when I say that I mean. . . the songs largely consist of nothing BUT a hook. Most hip hop and pop songs currently on the radio (and I have a lot of trouble separating the two of late), have a formula similar to the BEP standard: sing, pop-happy rap breakdown, hook, repeat.

What hurts Will.i.am's solo is that he forgets to SING. I'm not sure if he ever could, given that the Black Eyed Peas, prior to Fergie, were a rap group. And if he had opted to stay true to those roots, he probably could have made a great solo album. Instead, he seems hell bent on transitioning the existing BEP fan base to get behind him, and most of those fans have become acclimatized to the formula.

So, for the most part, you listen to the record, and in each song you suffer from overwhelming deja vu. There's a very specific hook in each song ("baby, where'd you get your body from. . . I got it from my momma (x300)"), and on either side are the overwrought rap lyrics. I'd say they were mysoginistic, but they don't even quite get there. Do they make women into objects. . .? Sure. But in this case, women are just being used as a weak thread to connect the songs together. There are heartbreak songs (about Casanova Will, breaking the hoochie hearts), and there are songs about pawing off the dozens of eager ladies always present. And then the hook shows up. . . and repeats. . . and repeats. . . and repeats.

The album does have some decent tracks, not ones that so much break free from the pattern, but rather make it work for them (and for this success I credit the producers of the album, rather than the artist). "I Got it From My Momma" the massive first single, and "The Donque Song" (which for the life of me sounds like it's saying "she's got a donkey. . . she's got a donkey") are surefire workout/dancefloor hits. But that's about all this album is good for.

** of *****
2 out of 5

Thursday Picks

Currently. . .

Reading: Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen

Watching: Grey's Anatomy - Season Two

Hearing: Song About Girls by Will.i.am

I Love You, Beth Cooper

I Love You, Beth Cooper by Larry Doyle

At that moment, Denis realized he hadn't planned for his plan to lead to conversation. Violence, sex, either way he had a plan (both defensive). But chitchat.

So Henneman must've given you major shit.

RESPOND

"Some shit," Denis responded, with simulated indifference. "Little shit. A modicum of excreta."

I know I promised you hard-hitting, occasionally nasty reviews, but I simply cannot do that in this case, because I just really loved this book.

One of the most overused, yet often truest, slogans in the writing world is to "write what you know."  It's sort of a misleading phrase, because all too often people connect it to the old saying "I know what I like, and I like what I know." which results in many writers penning what they like rather than what they know.  In the case of I Love You, Beth Cooper it becomes difficult to determine if Larry Doyle is lacquering a thick veneer of comedy over his own uncomfortable adolescence, or whether it is that the author just knows a hell of a lot about the teen comedy film genre.

Because what you end up thinking more often than not while reading this book is that you are reading an incredibly detailed and lovingly crafted movie script.  Indeed, the book is so much like a movie it is hard to believe that Doyle didn't write it with a film version already in mind (to his credit, Larry Doyle's previous writing credits include episodes of the Simpsons, and the clever teen commentary animation. . . MTV's Daria).  Doyle is well aware of the book's influences, opening each chapter with a topical quote from dozens of teen comedies from The Breakfast Club to Clueless.

The book opens on the humid graduation ceremony of a small town high school that could have been in any John Hughes movie.  It is there that we meet our hero, the meek and sweaty valedictorian Denis ("a vertical stroke from penis") Cooverman.  Denis is not cool.  Denis is not popular.  And though Denis is smart, he could use a pretty big dose of common sense and real life experience.  He decides, mid-speech, to tell his fellow classmates that this would be the ideal time in their life to say everything they have been meaning to say, whether it is to confess their secret sexuality (a pointed comment to his flamboyant best friend Rich "Dick" Munsch) or about eating disorders or abuses.  Everything Denis says at this point makes his classmates both uncomfortable and in some cases violently vengeful.  And then Denis discloses his biggest secret with the titular confession.

Beth Cooper, the beautiful head cheerleader, has sat in front of Denis in almost every class since they were children, and has two memories of him.  One involves an open fly in math class, and the other involves his book-opening confession.

What follows is a hilarious, outrageous, often violent, mostly unbelievable series of events.  In his quest to prove himself to the girl of his dreams I Love You, Beth Cooper takes Denis through a several death threats from Beth's coke-fiend Army boyfriend, to crashing the biggest grad party ever, to a shower rendezvous in the abandoned high school.  In the end, Denis has not only gained more knowledge of Beth Cooper, but he has learned more about himself than he ever could have imagined.  

Doyle's writing is not particularly transcendent.   It is easy to read, and suits to the tone and content of the story, though, so it's difficult to find fault with.  The book taps in to Doyle's animated past by including a chapter-by-chapter depiction of Denis's devolving physical condition, as well a smattering of drawings that guide the story along.  The supporting cast of characters, particularly the is-he-or-isn't-he gay Rich and the chubby, dumb, slutty but well intentioned Treece are everything one could ask for in movie sidekicks, written down and put inside the best movie I've read all year.  

While it includes far too many pop culture references to remain culturally relevant to generations to come, I think it will have the same feeling of fun to it in twenty years as we feel by watching Pretty in Pink decades later.  The clothes are awful, but it still tells us something familiar, something true.  And so does I Love You, Beth Cooper.

**** of *****

4 out of 5

Start of a New Year

It seems like every year I start a new blog.  Last year it was the photo blog that barely made it a month.  This one, I think, may be a bit of a better fit for me.

Books & Bones. . . what does that even mean?  It means I'll be doing reviews that get right down to the core of things. . . often harsh, overlooking the pretty stuff that may not have anything to do with the quality of a book, or movie, or album.  Getting down to the bare bones of what something is.

Music and Movies won't pose much problem. . . I work in a store that supplies me an infinite number of both (I'll be reviewing everything from the Criterion cuts of I Am Curious - Yellow & Blue to Transformers to terrible trailers. . . even TV on DVD. . . heck, even TV on TV when it comes back).

Books, on the other hand, my undeniable passion (I do have an English Literature BA after all), well, in 2008 I want to get back to reading as much as possible.  Not a difficult task with the seemingly neverending writer's strike threatening the future of my mid-season favorites Lost and Battlestar Gallactica (eep!)

Basically, anything pop culture and media related is fair game.  Upcoming reviews will include:

I Love You, Beth Cooper by Larry Doyle

Flight of the Conchords - Season One

The Frank Warren Lecture (creator of Post Secret, presenting at the Winnipeg Art Gallery)

and many. . . many. . . MANY CD reviews.