The Year of the Squirrel

Now, I hate to disagree with the Chinese (as I am surrounded by them in Richmond), but this is not the Year of the Dog. This is the Year of the Squirrel. Specifically, the animated squirrel. No fewer than five films have been made this year that feature a CGI squirrel, usually hyperactive.

Don't believe me? Think I'm some sort of delusional moron going on an anti-squirrel vendetta based on a childhood trauma involving peanuts and an umbrella? Well here's some proof for all you nay-sayers out there. Stop saying nay!

First there was Scrat (above right), from Ice Age 2. He was voiced by the director, Chris Wedge, and was one of the reasons the movie did so well.

Then there was Twitchy (second right), the fast-talking photographer from Hoodwinked. He was also voiced by the films' director Cory Edwards.

Then there came Benny (centre right) in The Wild. He was voiced by Jim Belushi, and played the part of the best friend to a lion. Talk about your mismatched buddy movie.

Following almost immediately was Dreamworks' Over The Hedge (which is next on my list to review), with Hammy (Steve Carell), the hyper helper to the group (fourth right).

And coming up soon is Open Season, about a tamed bear (Martin Lawrence) and a deer (Ashton Kutcher) who are surviving in the woods. They encounter this batch of surly looking characters in a tree (below right).

So there you have it. This year we will be bombarded by a buttload of squirrels. Maybe I should be getting in on the ground floor on this bonanza and invest in some sort of plush squirrel company before the fad is over and dogs or cats take over again as top animal for the kiddies affections. I remember just a while ago, everybody wanted a hippopotamus for Christmas, and that was just because of one Telus ad. Imagine the rush on squirrel merchandise there should be from five films full of them. Do you hear me Corparate America? Of course you don't. But you're missing out on a golden opportunity here and who knows when squirrels will be back in fashion again. Maybe in 12 years, when the Year of the Squirrel comes round again.

Review: X-Men: The Last Stand

It takes a certain amount of intestinal fortitude to adapt a beloved comic book series on to the big screen. The fans of the comics are so nit-picky about every aspect of the production, from casting, to plotlines, to histories. No comic book yet adapted has had a wider background of characters and stories than the X-Men. Superman, Batman, Spiderman or even the Hulk are singular characters, with well-established origins and simplistic storylines. But with the X-Men, there is an ever-expanding universe of mutants, each with their own personalities and quirks. So you can imagine then the ulcers which plague the creators of the X-Men series of films. They began with a select few, and during the course of the sequels, added many more. But each new character they add dilutes the plot of this third installment, X-Men: The Last Stand. The title itself is misleading, as there were too many signs that pointed to an unfinished story that would need to be told. And besides that, Wolverine and Magneto are each set to have their own spinoff film. The fan reaction to the new movie has been largely positive but still clamouring to see the inclusion of such characters as Gambit, Havoc, Jubilee or Apocalypse. Personally, I couldn't get past Kelsey Grammer in blue fur. And Angel, one of the original X-Men, is relegated to standing around in the background and being generally useless. Plus, I really enjoyed Nightstalker in X2, and missed him here. But the point of this third film was to wrap up certain storylines of the first two films. One, the ultimate resolution of Jean Grey's powers. Two, the political ramifications of Magneto's war on an unsympathetic human populace. Three, the student population of Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Children reaches maturity.

After Jean Grey's (Famke Janssen) "death", both Cyclops (James Marsden) and Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) are taking it very hard. This forces Professor X (Patrick Stewart) to look to Storm (Halle Berry, who only agreed to return after getting a larger part) for leadership. Meanwhile, Rogue (Anna Paquin) is beginning to regret not being able to touch her boyfriend, Iceman (Shawn Ashmore), who is showing an interest in Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page, a Halifax native who played Treena Lahey on Trailer Park Boys). Mean even more while, the US gov't has captured Mystique (Rebecca Romijn) and interrogates her to find the whereabouts of Magneto (Ian McKellan), while Hank McCoy (Grammer) looks on as Sect. of Mutant Affairs. Meanest of the whiles yet, a lab in San Fransisco, led by a man whose son (Ben Foster) is sprouting a set of wings, has developed a mutation suppressant based on the powers of a mutant named Leech (Cameron Bright, from Nanaimo). Phew, and that's just the important characters. The "cure" outrages Magneto, who begins amassing an army of mutants to fight back. At the same time, Rogue believes the cure may be the answer to her problems. Prof X receives a distress call from Alkali Lake (the site of the last movie's climax) and sends the team out find that Jean Grey is alive, but Cyclops may not be so lucky. Jean's ordeal may have led to the release of a secondary personality, a stronger, more powerful alter ego called the Phoenix. It may have overridden Jean entirely and may ultimately destroy her. The psychic blockage was placed there by Prof X as a child and stunted her uncontrollable abilites. Now that the Phoenix has been released, she rejects Prof X and the X-Men (boy, does she ever) and aligns with Magneto's Brotherhood. Their attack is directed towards the lab making the cure, and it's up to the remaining X-Men and the students to stop them.

Some of the events and characters may bother some of the purists who hold the canon near and dear, but remember that the producers are trying to fit nearly 50 years of X-Men history into 6 hours of celluloid. They have to pick and choose what makes sense to weave into the script. Sometimes the particulars merge into glossed over bits of information, be it two distinct characters who appear fused into one more powerful mutant, or events which may occur way outside of the canonical timeline. So we must give them credit, they have made three very good movies (and will probably make a fourth (opinion based purely on speculation)) that have taken the lives of a great variety of interesting characters and played them out onscreen. And believe me when I tell you to stay to the end of the credits, you won't regret it.

∆∆∆∆ of 5

Review: The Da Vinci Code

Boy, that con of man, could it be any darker? This film, sorry, this quote-unquote blockbuster, The Da Vinci Code, is poised to be the runaway hit of the summer, if it can stand up to X3 this weekend. I mean, look at what it has going for it. The last movie Ron Howard made about codes and intellectualism, A Beautiful Mind, won Oscars. Tom Hanks can play both sides, the big budget and the smart money. The book has been on the New York Times bestseller list for God knows how long, and it has been pored over by the airplane readers and the deep minded literati alike. It has spawned controversies, documentaries, tours and plenty of merchandise. It has religious zealots urging the public not to see it (like it worked so well for The Passion of the Christ). With all of this going for it, how could a film like this possibly fail? The good news is, it doesn't... not really. If you liked the book, you'll like the movie. If you thought, like I did, that the book was full of stilted dialogue and cheesy prose, then you'll find that hasn't changed. No doubt about it, Dan Brown wrote a well-researched and carefully crafted novel about the possibility of the continued bloodline of Christ (sorry if that spoiled anything, but really, who doesn't know what it's about, have you been in a cave, blindfolded, with your fingers in your ears? C'mon!), but some of the events come across as flimsy pretenses to move from location to location. The controversy that has met this story has come from the Catholic Church, other authors with similar theories and even albinos (who hardly ever get to protest things, so it's nice to hear they're getting their moment in the sun... oops, sorry). What everyone fails to accept is that this is a work of fiction, even if it is based on historical events. At best, this movie should be taken with a grain of salt, along the same vein as, say, National Treasure. Obviously there isn't a massive gold-filled chamber hidden under Philadelphia, just like there is no sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene hidden under yada yada (in case you haven't read that far yet). But somehow, religious types are denouncing the film as blasphemy and heresy, making outrageous accusations and wild hypotheses (wow, that was about 70 bucks worth of words there). So please, stop your picketing, as it is pointless. If anything, you will make more people see it, just to see what all the fuss is about. Save your outrage for a more appropriate target, like the next time some pop star feels she needs to be on the big screen.

Anyways, this is probably all just retread for most of you, and please don't write angry letters if I get some details wrong, I'm just a casual observer. Robert Langdon (Hanks), the eminent Harvard professor of symbology, or some such nonsense, is in Paris giving a lecture on the interpretation of symbols, when he is asked by a police officer to go to the Louvre, where a murder has been committed. The victim, Jacques Saunière, the curator of the museum, has been shot and displayed in a strange, ritualistic fashion. He has marked on himself and the floor around him. He has written an odd code in UV ink beside him, including the phrase, "O draconian devil! O lame saint." What Langdon doesn't know is that Capt. Fache (Jean Reno) already believes him to be the killer and is ready to force a confession from him, when a pretty young police cryptographer, Sophie Neveu (Amelie's Audrey Tautou), intervenes and explains the situation to him. She explains that she is Saunière's granddaughter, and tells Langdon there is more than meets the eye. They throw the police off the trail and begin solving Saunière's trail of riddles, which lead to a key that belongs to the Priory of Scion, a group dedicated to protecting the Holy Grail from the Church, who would have it destroyed rather than see it made public. To that end, an albino monk named Silas (a powdered and bleached Paul Bettany), does what he must to find the Grail for his Bishop (Alfred Molina), a member of the Opus Dei council, an ultraconservative sect of the Catholic Church. Confused yet? I don't even understand what I just wrote. The key brings them to a safety deposit box, which yields a cryptex, a simple, yet effective way to keep your secrets safe. To solve it, Robert and Sophie visit and old friend, Sir Leigh Teabing (Sir Ian McKellen, so that's appropriate enough), an expert on all things Grailistic. Their quest, and their escape from the authorities, bring them to London, where everything is up for grabs. I'm not going to go into more detail about the "truth" that is discovered, since you should try to be familiar enough with the information in the book before you try to see the movie. Newcomers may find themselves lost in a sea of flashbacks and monologues about historical coverups and biblical injustices. But hey, if you thought seeing a car chase with Mini Coopers was good in The Bourne Identity, you'll enjoy seeing a SmartCar drive backwards through traffic. That was about the most action you can expect in this rather slow-paced adventure.

I have no problem with religious folks, as a whole. I was raised by a Christian family, but we were never really the God-fearing type. And nowadays, I find myself to be too rational to believe some all-encompassing being created and controls all aspects of life in the universe for the past six thousand years. There's too much scientific evidence to the contrary. But I'm not going to argue about it with someone. That's what you believe, fine, this is what I believe. I believe Jesus was a good man, who spoke of love and brotherhood, who was killed for being uppity. That doesn't mean he was sent here by God to cleanse us all of our sins. I have no idea what lies beyond my death. I'd like to believe that there will eternal happiness for good people, but rationally, I just can't. I'm getting off-topic here. The point is that whatever may or may not have happened between the years of 0 BC and 0 AD, shouldn't stop people today from enjoying a fictional account of the aftermath. I mean, in all seriousness, isn't it mostly fiction to begin with? Well, that's my piece, now bring on the death threats!

∆∆∆ of 5

Review: Poseidon

I felt a little apprehensive about seeing the new disaster flick about an overturned cruise ship, since I'm going to be on one in February, but after seeing Poseidon, I don't think I'll have to worry about it anymore. The best disaster movies, like say, Deep Impact (one note about the film, I love the fact that the big meteor, the one that was eventually blown up, was poised to land in Western Canada. BC gonna make some noise!), try to show us what could happen in the event of a major catastrophe, and what we, the regular people, can do to protect ourselves and our families. The not-so-best ones are like, say, The Core, where a bunch of improbable things happen and then a bunch more happen and then we all feel cheated. So, where do you draw the line between the limits of reality? When The Day After Tomorrow came out, there was a lot of jaw-wagging about global warming and how the events of the movie were not only possible, but probable. Yeah, like I'm sure the polar ice caps will all melt in the space of three days, followed two days later by a new ice age. I'll start stocking up on spam and toilet paper. The point is that these films are about "the unlikely event," as in, "In the unlikely event that a meteor is heading for Earth, how would you stop it?" So that brings us to Poseidon, which asks the question, "In the unlikely event that a rogue wave flips over a cruise ship, how would you escape?"

That question was first posed in 1972 in The Poseidon Adventure with Gene Hackman, Ernest Borgnine, and Shelley Winters, which I assume back then was a star-studded cast. It was posed again last year on TV, but I won't go into that. This time, the answer is given by Josh Lucas, a McCaughnahey lookalike getting some real street cred here. Maybe now people will know him by his name, rather than "that guy from Sweet Home Alabama who's not Matthew McCaughnahey." And I hope I'm spelling his name right, because it's easy to get it wrong. That's another thing Josh Lucas has going for him. Anyway, Josh plays Dylan, a poker swindler making some money on a London-New York cruise on New Year's Eve. Joining him at the high-stakes table is Kurt Russell as Robert, a former fireman and mayor of New York. The movie spends a little time setting up the characters, but don't worry, because only 15 minutes in, the rogue wave slams into the ship from out of nowhere, flipping it upside-down and turning every thing not nailed down into a weapon. In the ensuing panic, a plan is hatched by Dylan, who mentions it in passing to Connor, a precocious little tyke, who tells his mother Maggie, who yells at Dylan, allowing everyone in the vicinity to hear the plan. That includes Robert, who is looking for his daughter (Emmy Rossum, who is already a veteran disaster flick actress), and Richard (Richard Dreyfuss), a gay architect who's just been dumped, and Marco (Freddy Rodriguez), a waiter with a secret. So this ragtag group of survivors starts heading upstairs, or downstairs or whatever, until they reach the hull. Along the way, they make and lose new friends. The good thing about the film is that you can't always predict who will and who won't survive, and sometimes you care if they make it, and sometimes you cheer if they don't. There's not a lot a character development at work in this film, and often you find yourself wondering how they all became so close so fast. But just do what I do, hit yourself in the head with a mallet, and just look at what's happening next.

I'm not going to go into detail about the hardships they endure, but suffice it to say, they remain wet for the entire time. When you take into account the fact that the director is Wolfgang Petersen, who also did The Perfect Storm and Das Boot, it's amazing anyone survived at all. And on a bright note, if you've ever wanted to see the Black Eyed Peas' Fergie hit by a wall of water, you'll get your wish, your dark and twisted wish. Ultimately, Poseidon is a film about sacrifice and dare I say it, the human spirit. I nearly gagged just typing that out. How far would you go to protect the ones you love, in the unlikely event?

∆∆1/2 of 5

Review: RV

The other night, if you recall from my last post, I was out with my roommate Greg and his sister and her friends. If you didn't recall, well then, I just recapped it. One of her friends, Veronika, mentioned she was in a movie recently. I assumed it would be some crappy Canadian indie film, but she said it was actually RV, the new Robin Williams family comedy. I was taken aback, and immediately set out to see it, just to see if she was bullshitting me. Well, there she was, 10 minutes in, throwing some goo into Will Arnett's face (see right). See, she plays the friend of Bob Munro's (Williams) daughter, Cassie (JoJo, the singer). They are at a party thrown by Bob's boss (Arnett) and she confronts him about the unhealthy effects of his company's soda, Pure Vibe. That's about the extent of her appearance, but it sets up the rest of the film.

Bob, under orders from his boss, has to cancel his trip to Hawaii to make a presentation in Colorado to the head of Alpine Soda, in order to merge with them. But rather than just explain the situation to his family, he decides to change those vacation plans to drive to Colorado in a rented RV. This doesn't sit well with his wife Jamie (Curb Your Enthusiasm's Cheryl Hines, a definite MILF, if I do say so), his daughter, who'd rather be surfing or his son Carl (Zathura's Josh Hutchinson), who'd rather be lifting weights. But they relent, and after a few false starts and damaged property, they are off. Leaving from Malibu, their first stop is in Arizona, where the RVets get a kick out of Bob's style of dumping the septic. It's here that the Munros meet the Gornickes, headed by Jeff Daniels, a traveling troupe of folk-singing, home-schooling, roadkill-stew-making bumpkins. Of course, the Munros can't handle that kind of family togetherness, and quickly hit the road again. So it goes, with the RV taking all kinds of damage that I'm certain the insurance won't cover, and the family getting ever closer, while Bob tries to put together the presentation of his life to save his job. Wacky hijinks and crazy misunderstandings ensue, and everyone learns a lesson about who they are and the important things in life. Pretty standard stuff, really.

The TV trailers for the movie don't really do it justice, to be honest. I thought, "Oh God, it nothing but crazy raccoons and goo flying through the air," but there's a lot more here than meets the eye. The family messages about staying close in this era of e-mail and iPods are very applicable and not too heavy-handed. There aren't many moments where you kind of slap your head and roll your eyes. And it proves that Robin Williams can be funny without resorting to the gay hairdresser and black preacher routines.

∆∆∆ of 5

Mother Nature is a dirty whore!

I apologize for the invective, but why can't we get some decent weather on May Long Weekend? This is the second year in a row that we have had our fun rained out at Cultus Lake. And last year, at least I was in a trailer. So, let me lay out the weekend for y'all so's I can set the mood.

Friday night, rather than heading up to the lake, the boys and I went out with Greg's sister for her birthday (21!) and we hit the town with some of her friends, ending up at the Caprice downtown. Now this is my first time at this 'upscale' nightclub, and what an experience it was. For one thing, since we were a birthday group, VIP line-skipping, baby! What a feeling to be on the other side of that velvet rope for once. We get in, grab some drinks, and hit the floor. The DJ's popping out Top 40 and teh-te-techno, and the groove is solid (if only Canada's other official language was 70's jive-talk). So, we're all having a good time, and then this lovely little lady in a blue tank and a glo-stick necklace comes up to me and says, "I'm Joyce," to which I, of course, reply, "I'm Chest Rockwell." Then the dancing began. The DJ played 'Billie Jean', which if you know me, is my kryptonite. We continue to dance, closer and closer, she's staring into my eyes and I'm staring right back. She stares at my lips, and I lick them, reflexively. She spots a friend of hers, waves and says, "I've gotta go." I reply, "Uh, okay, I'll be right here," and wait, dancing to myself, and getting high-fives from my friends. Fifteen minutes go past, so I head upstairs with the group, thinking I'll spot her necklace from the lounge. And I do spot her, making out with some guy in a cheap tan suit. Sigh. I guess I was too much of a gentleman for her, not immediately going for the throat. So, to sum up, I was ecstatic, then disappointed. Good night overall, usually I'm just disappointed.

Next day, I realize, "Holy shit, I'm supposed to be in a rush to go camping!" I made a mad grab for everything I could think of (remember this rushed-ness later, as it's important). I got clothes, a flashlight, my beer helmet (so practical), and my cooler of alcoholic beverages. I cruised to the parental base to grab my camp gear, tent, table, tarps, mattress, and zipped on up to the lake, all the time recalling all the shit I had neglected to pack. "Dammit! I was gonna bring Balderdash" (best board game ever when you're drinking). "Crap! I left my camera sitting on my desk, didn't I?" "Did I even bring plates and bowls and cups? No!" And then the big one hit me when I was setting up my tent: "Where the hell is my sleeping bag, you idiot!?" I'm very self-deprecating out loud. So right away, a mental damper is layered on me as I'm remembering all the things I was too rushed or stupid to bring. But that was nothing next to the meteorological damper that was left to play it's part on Sunday. This was Saturday, though, and the group had all brought shooters to pass around that night. I, in all my wisdom, had brought Southern Comfort, recalling a night a few years ago when several shots of SoCom hit the spot just right after a Corona and a Rum & Coke. But memory did not serve, and it burns! We did not do many shots of SoCom (1 if I recall). Then we stood around the fire and made subtle fun at the expense of the youth group camping next to us. We even offered them drinks, but they politely declined. I guess they were high on 'the Lord', cause they often sounded like they were have too much fun for it to be all-natural. Erica, Jess and I closed out the evening at 1:30 in the morning, when the bike-shtapo rolled up and told us that fires were to be out at 11 and that we were audible from the beach, to which my first thought was, "Who's living on the beach?" Then we were asked if we would like to be given a $50 fine, so I stumped off to get some water. When I returned, the fire had already been doused by the Rent-A-Jerks. So the night was basically over, just Erica and I, chatting crouched beside the slowly dying embers. [Just a special note, Erica is the only person who actually reads anything here, so Hi, Erica!]

Sunday, it started to rain. It began so innocently, but we all knew it wouldn't end there. Eight of us were enjoying a game of Extreme Bocce, played over roads and roots and rocks (and in one glorious moment, I landed my ball on an empty beer bottle on a picnic table, smashing pieces in a 360-deg. radius), and the sprinkling came down. I picked this time to grab by beer helmet, as I now needed a hat. I brought it out empty, but was quickly razzed into kitting it out with a pair of Kokanee's. Now I was basically double fisting at 4 in the afternoon, armed with a blunt object. It was a very tightly contested match, ending with the score 11-9-9-8. The sprinkling became a drizzle, and the giant tarp went up over our little common area, with the suddenly strong wind refusing to cooperate. Once the tarp was up, the party moved under it. I grabbed a prime bit of dry ground early, and stuck there like gum under a Denny's booth. Then we celebrated B-rad's b-day with a cake. I had two pieces handed to me in my seat, so I knew I was doing something right. The circle I was sitting in, with myself, Erica, Angie, Brad and Jess, decided a drinking game was in order, but not something with a lot of unnecessary rules. Something uncomplicated. Then Angie suggested a spirited (emphasis on the spirits) game of 'RPS', or Rock-Paper-Scissors for the uninitiated. The rules are simple: You lose, you drink, you challenge. That was fun for a while, then we got bored. Luckily, Leanne and Rita got locked out of their camper van, so we all got to help break in. I held the flashlight, and got to climb on the roof. It's not real camping unless you climb something. Dougie Fresh managed to finagle the door loose enough to poke a wire through and push the door release button. After that, the excitement started to die down, and with Gordie passed out in his trailer, it looked like Larry wouldn't have a partner for Midnight Bocce (it's like Extreme Bocce, but at mid... well, you figure it out). So people began to shuffle off to bed at one o'clock. But I'm not satisfied by this evening, and neither are Doug and Amoria. So we decide to build a fire at quarter after one, knowing full well that the cutoff time was two hours earlier. It was tough going, with wet wood and an uncooperative lighter, but eventually, we got a pretty damn good blaze going. We enjoyed it for an hour and a half, until Mr. Have-Cocky-Sense-of-Self-Superiority-Will-Travel showed up. This time, I made a play to half-douse the fire, then we waited til he was out of sight, then got it going again. "We tried to put it out, but it won't go without a fight," we reasoned. By the time he returned, we were basically ready for bed anyway, but we resented the fact that our now-decimated fire could be considered a risk after every available surface in a hundred mile radius was soaked by rain, so after splashing it again, I reignited it and went to bed, just as a subtle "fuck you" to the establishment.

Monday, it rained. We packed our shit and went home. We thought maybe, just maybe, Ma Nature would let the sunshine in, just to throw it in our faces, like last year, but this year, she decided to let it rain down on us the whole time. Today's highlight for me was watching the electrifying two-hour finale of 24. They all worked together to take down the President, and now Jack is on a slow boat to China. Who's gonna rescue him? Audrey? Curtis? Chloe? Kim? An Aaron Pierce-Wayne Palmer tag-team? I can't wait to find out. Then I was treated to a positively hysterical finale of CSI:Miami, where they uncovered who the mole was (who cares?) and found the man responsible for Marisol's murder (pthbbt) and left us with this gem, "Eric, we're going to Brazil," as a plane is reflected in his everpresent sunglasses. I tell you, it's not worth it anymore, other than for the comedic value. I may have to drop it from my schedule next season, if something better comes up on Monday nights.

There's good news...

...And not so good news. The good news for me is that now that the networks have all announced their lineups for next fall, and none of my favourite shows have gone belly-up. Sure, I miss Arrested Development, but that hurt was months ago, and the pain is subsiding. Besides, we were treated to a great wind-up of the plot, and we can all sleep soundly knowing that Michael Bluth and his son are safely on their way to Mexico. Some of the other shows I'll miss are That 70's Show and Malcolm in the Middle, but they both had good runs, and the reruns will last forever. Joey won't see a new season, but we all saw that coming. I'm happy to say that Veronica Mars has found a spot on the new CW following Gilmore Girls, which will help it's visibility. FOX seems to be clearing house on all the comedies that don't appear on Sunday nights. The only survivor I can see is rookie offering The Loop, a fairly decent single-cam about a young airline exec juggling a career and a wild party life. I was disappointed to hear that CBS will be moving Without A Trace to Sunday nights, and I hope it can survive without the strong lead-in that CSI provides, because now the preceding show will be the low-key Cold Case. And before that will be The Amazing Race. Sunday's will be my busiest night of the week, taking over for Wednesday. Speaking of the Race, I am happy to congratulate The Hippies, BJ and Tyler, on winning the cool million. I had hoped they would since the beginning, since they just seemed to be having so much fun out there, while everybody else was bickering and being sneaky. So nice guys finish first at last.

The bad news for me is that I am a terrible bettor when it comes to hockey. I went 0 for 4 in the semis and thoroughly embarrassed myself. I thought it would be San Jose, Colorado, Ottawa and New Jersey. It ends up being Edmonton, Anaheim, Buffalo and Carolina. I haven't even checked my hockey pools in days, because there's just no point anymore. Okay, for traditions' sake, I will predict Buffalo over Carolina and Edmonton over Anaheim. So, obviously, the Stanley Cup finals will actually be between Car and Ana, and they will be the lowest rated finals in years. I mean, at least Edm and Buf are hockey towns, so there's some urgency there, but Car and Ana? That will be like Tampa Bay winning... oh wait, they did last time, and the league shut down for a year.

More good news, I'll be spending the weekend at Cultus Lake, where I hope and pray we will have sunshine, because last year, the rain came in perpendicularly and ruined the whole thing. I knock on wood as I write this, so as not to jinx it. For the next four days, I will be in a drunken stupor from which I may never fully recover, so please don't fret if I neglect this for a while. The summer of Steve begins now!

Until next time, I may not be the best looking guy, but I hold my own... and I frequently do.

Review: The Wild

The animal kingdom is making a comeback. Not in the real world, unfortunately, more species are being endangered and extinguished every day. But on our movie screens, animalia has never been stronger. With films like The Wild, Over the Hedge, Barnyard, Ice Age 2, Open Season, Flushed Away and The Ant Bully coming out this year, kids won't be able to get away from the cute and cuddly creatures, other than Pixar's Cars. With so many creature features, there's bound to be some overlap, plotwise, but the competition between Disney and DreamWorks is getting a bit ridiculous. First, there was the year of A Bug's Life and Antz. Then, there was Finding Nemo and Shark Tale. Then there was Madagascar, and now there's The Wild. Now, of course, there are some subtle differences, but the fact that there are two CGI movies about a group of animals from a New York zoo who run loose in the city, only to wind up on a boat to Africa to have crazy adventures should be unacceptable to people. The main character in each one is a lion, with a giraffe friend. Okay, fine, I can accept all that, but when I hear that Warner Bros. is in the process of creating The Zoo, about animals with a New York attitude, I start to twitch. Are there no more ideas left in Hollywood, that our animated movies have to constantly cannibalize each other for ideas. It's really unbelievable that we put up with it. But, having said my piece about that, let's talk The Wild.

The story at the heart of the movie is more compelling than that of Madagascar. Samson (Kiefer Sutherland), the big lion on campus at the Central Park Zoo, is raising his son, Ryan (Greg Cipes) in captivity, while regaling him with stories of his life in the wild. His friends from his turtle curling team include Benny (Jim Belushi), a slick squirrel with a misguided crush on...; Bridget (Janeane Garofalo), a giraffe whose only purpose seems to be to act as a means of conveyance for...; Larry (Richard Kind), a boa constrictor who appears to have constricted blood from reaching his own brain; and Nigel (Eddie Izzard), a koala from the London Zoo, with the hooligan attitude to match. One lovely touch for us Canadians, the commentator for the turtle curling is a penguin voiced by Don Cherry. I wonder if the folks at C.O.R.E., the Toronto studio that produced the animation, insisted upon it. So, Ryan, upset that he isn't the lion that his father is, hides within a crate heading for the wild. Upon finding out, Samson puts together a rescue mission that leads them through the sewers to the port, where they commandeer a vessel and follow the container ship to an African island (whether or not it is Madagascar is unconfirmed). They discover the ship is preparing to rescue the animals of the island from a smoking volcano. But Ryan escaped into the jungle, and Samson must rely on his instincts to find him, but does he still have them? Did he ever? Meanwhile, Nigel (the source of comic relief) finds himself the object of worship among a misguided group of wildebeests determined to hoof their way to the top of the food chain.

If it helps you, you can think of The Wild as Madagascar meets Finding Nemo meets The Lion King, but that's a generalization. This movie has it's own style, pacing and tone. Obviously, there are times where you will notice things lifted from other movies, but consider that this movie idea was picthed to Disney studio heads nine years ago. So that may explain the similarities between it and others, but make no mistake that this movie stands fine on it's own. The kids will enjoy it, and adults won't get bored. That will happen sometime during the next movie.

∆∆∆ of 5

You may say I'm a dreamer

Ahh, the cover band. The chameleons of music. By taking the appearance of a successful band, they are able to enjoy success without any origniality of their own. Usually, a cover band is nothing but a bunch of guys who lack the talent or wherewithal to create anything of their own, so they usurp the material of musicians they admire. More often than not, the result is a sad retread, as the players perform 'tributes' to their idols, and ruin those songs for fans. But other times, when the band has so much respect for the material, you get to see something special. I went to see Rain: The Beatles Experience on Saturday night at the Orpheum Theatre, and those boys know how to pay tribute. The band has been around in different forms since the mid-70's, doing cover performances. The members of the Broadway production Beatlemania joined up and with just one change since then, the current lineup has been together since 1997. The band includes Joey Curatolo, a Brooklynite who taught himself guitar at 10, and portrays Paul McCartney. Steve Landes, from Philly, does a dead-on John Lennon, and also taught himself guitar at the age of 10. Joe Bithorn, from Manhattan, makes his guitar weep as George Harrison, and is also a self-taught guitarist at a young age (I sense a pattern). Ralph Castelli, a Los Angelino, played drums at 6 years old, and now masters Ringo Starr's brand of precise, cadenced drumming. The band was started and kept on track by keyboardist Mark Lewis, who plays piano and inserts whatever background instruments are necessary, like orchestral violins or the sound effects on "Day in the Life". We'll call him the George Martin of Rain.

Not only does the band painstakingly recreate the music, chord for chord, but they also recreate the atmosphere of the time periods. For example, when they do their first set, they are dressed like the Fab Four as they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, and they play songs like "Twist and Shout" and "That Boy". Then they changed into different suits to play their next set, the 'Shea Stadium set', with hits like "Day Tripper" and "Ticket to Ride". Then they were transformed into the Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Tribute Band, neon silk suits, mustaches and all. They played songs like "Day in the Life" and "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" while a modified version of the famous album cover graced the screen above them. Following a short intermission, they play the 'Summer of Love set', when the boys were transformed by spiritual reawakening, playing songs like "All You Need is Love" and "I Am the Walrus". They played a short acoustic, "jam session" where songs were bandied about, like "Blackbird" and "While My Guitar Gently Weeps". Then they changed again into their more demure Abbey Road outfits to play the rest of the show, including "Come Together" and "Here Comes the Sun". They played a whole slew of songs. I didn't keep track during the show, but I think I can remember this list. Keep in mind that the list is not perfect, and far from ordered correctly, but here you are, nonetheless.

Set 1:
"All My Loving"
"I Saw Her Standing There"
"Twist and Shout"
"That Boy"

Set 2:
"Day Tripper"
"Drive My Car"
"Yesterday"

Set 3:
"Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band"
"With a Little Help From My Friends"
"Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds"
"Day in the Life"

Set 4:
"Penny Lane"
"Hello Goodbye"
"I Am the Walrus"
"Blackbird"
"While My Guitar Gently Weeps"
"All You Need is Love"

Set 5:
"Come Together"
"Something"
"Here Comes the Sun"
"Across the Universe"
"Revolution"
"Get Back"
"Golden Slumbers medley"

Encores:
"Imagine"
"Let It Be"
"Hey Jude"

I'm pretty sure I got most, if not all of them, and let me tell you, it's a pretty solid playlist to hear in concert, considering the last single the Beatles played in concert was 1966's "Paperback Writer". They never had the headache of trying to adapt the complex sounds of Sgt. Pepper's into a live performance. But Rain did, and did admirably. The crowd was a mixture of aging hipsters and the under-20 set, with a liberal sprinkling of Gen-Xer's for good measure. The band kept things going between songs with light banter, in perfect Liverpudlian accents, and kept people enteratined between sets with footage of the changing eras. It's amazing how much the world changed within the eight years the Beatles were together. From the button-down straight-laced early sixties, to the Summer of Love, to Vietnam. They also played some ads from back then, including one hilarious one, where Fred and Barney, who can't stand to see their wives working so hard, decide to take a break in the backyard, and light up some Winston's, with their smooth menthol flavour.

The key to a good tribute band is the level of commitment. When you see some subpar musicians in full KISS getups, you have to give props for the effort, but it's still crappy sounding. When I saw Micheal White and the White, they didn't give two shits about looking like Led Zepplin, but they rocked so hard, nobody cared. The boys in Rain have it down on both counts. They play the Beatles music tighter than the Fab Four themselves would, I'd wager, since these guys are trying so hard to nail the studio sound, whereas John would come on stoned and wank his way through it, while George would just be put out by the whole thing. Plus, they have the look and performance down pat. It's like a dream world, where Lennon wasn't shot, and Harrison wasn't stabbed and everybody got along and just played their bloody hearts out. And that's the greatest tribute of all.

Summer Movie Preview

Every summer, Hollywood comes to the conclusion that it must be far too hot out to think very deeply about plot and character. So instead of original material, we are given sequels, remakes and adaptations. But, cynical as I am, I'll see the lot of them (a couple of weeks later) because I can't help it, it's too damn hot to worry about. Here's some of the one's I wanna see this year.

• Poseidon (May 12) I've never seen the original film (or the made-for-TV version last year, for that matter), but I've gotta have at least one disaster film this year. Wolfgang Peterson (Perfect Storm) directs a wide cast with Kurt Russell and McCaughnahy lookalike Josh Lucas. Looks like fun.
• The Da Vinci Code (May 19) How could this possibly fail? Take the literary phenomenon of the past year, add Tom Hanks, apply Ron Howard liberally and stir with recent controversy. My prediction? $80-million in the first weekend.
• Over the Hedge (May 19) Not the first animal-based animated movie of the year (The Wild) nor the last (Open Season), this movie is not a sure thing. The voice cast is eclectic to say the least (from Bruce Willis to Steve Carell to Avril Lavigne?), but it should tide the kids over until Cars opens.
• X-Men: The Last Stand (May 26) So maybe we're all a little fatigued by the righteousness displayed the second one, but come on, who's not going to see this? I don't know how to feel about Kelsey Grammer as Beast. On the one hand, he has the voice and class to lend credence to Hank McCoy, but can Frasier really swing around with Beast's agility? I'll find out when everyone else does.
• The Omen (June 6) This is another 70's remake, this time about a little boy who may just be the spawn of Satan. This version stars Liev Schreiber and Julia Stiles. What I really love though, is the fact that the film is being released on 6/6/6. How long have they been waiting for that?
• Cars (June 9) Everything Pixar has touched up until this point has been solid gold. They could digitally animated a cold moose turd for 88 minutes and the kids would still ask for the Happy Meal toys. The characters in the film look ridiculously cartoony and something doesn't feel right, but it won't matter. This film will clean up like a Puerto Rican maid (ouch, Steve, watch the slurs).
• Nacho Libre (June 16) Jack Black is back to comedy in this film about a priest who joins the Mexican wrestling circuit to save an orphanage. Napoleon Dynamite director Jared Hess holds the reins on this one, and I couldn't be happier.
• Click (June 23) Adam Sandler plays the wielder of a magical, or technologically superadvanced, I don't know which, universal remote that can pause, rewind, or slow down moments of his life. High-concept comedy meets low-brow actor. Summer movies are full of them.
• Superman Returns (June 30) This movie has had more people come and go than a Vietnamese whorehouse (jeez Steve, again with the slurs). But it's ready now, with former X-Men director Bryan Singer behind the lens, and newcomer Brandon Routh in the red cape. Apparently, Superman has been gone for a while, and comes back to find Lex Luthor (Kevin Spacey, I'm happy to say) back to his old tricks, and Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth) perhaps moving on. I hope they finally answer the question of Clark Kent's glasses which make him completely unrecognizable somehow.
• Pirates of the Caribbean (July 7) 2003's hit summer movie has spawned two sequels. One is being released now, the other next year, I can only assume. Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom and Keira "Twice" Knightly are all back and ready for more action. I can safely say that swashes will be buckled.
• Lady in the Water (July 21) Here's hoping M. Night Shyamalan got his groove back after the disappointing Village (I figured the twist out 30 minutes in). What if we're too expectant of his films? Does he have to have a mind-bending twist in each one? We'll see, as Paul Giamatti stars an apartment super who rescues a woman from his pool, but is she what she appears to be?
• My Super Ex-Girlfriend (July 21) Uma Thurman is a superhero, whose alter-ego is dumped by Luke Wilson for being too needy. Big mistake, as he will soon learn. Meh... it could be funny.
• Miami Vice (July 28) Crockett and Tubbs are back, now as Colin Ferrell and Jamie Foxx, in Michael Mann's film adaptation of his own 80's TV series. This production was plagued by problems on set, so I wonder if that will translate to onscreen interest.
• Barnyard (July 28) A CGI-film that, rather than focus on zoo animals going to the wild (The Wild, Madagascar) or woodland creatures in civilization (Over the Hedge, Open Season), deals with barnyard animals that have to protect their home when the farmer takes leave. Voices include Kevin James, Courtney Cox and some real voice talent like Maurice LaMarche and Rob Paulsen, so my expectations are raised.
• Little Miss Sunshine (July 28) A small flick with a great cast, this could be the indie hit of the summer. Steve Carell and Toni Collette are the parents of a young pageant hopeful, who road trip in a VW van to get to the finals. Carell can do no wrong for me.
• Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (August 4) Try to find something wrong with this scenario: Will Ferrell (hilarious) is a NASCAR (megapopular) driver facing competition from a French driver, Sacha Baron Cohen (awesome!) in a movie by Adam McKay (Anchorman). Plus the product placement alone probably covered the cost of the movie, so everything it makes (and it'll make a lot) will be mostly profit.
• World Trade Center (August 11) No subject requires more finesse and light-handedness than 9/11, as United 93 so ably proved. So why hand the reins over to Oliver Stone, who has never been either of those things? Nicolas Cage stars as a firefighter who survived being trapped in the wreckage. Hoo boy. Dey's goin a-hell for dis one.
• Snakes on a Plane (August 18) It's just what it says. An assassin releases a crate of poisonous snakes on a flight carrying a federal witness in the care of Marshal Samuel L. Jackson. They refilmed parts of this wildly buzzing movie to bring the rating to an R. "Get these m-----f---ing snakes off mym-----f---ing plane!"
• Beerfest (August 25) The Broken Lizard comedy troupe is back in (hopefully) fine form. I still contend that Super Troopers is one of the funniest movies ever. In this one, two brothers visit Oktoberfest and compete in ancient "beer games". I am psyched.
• Idiocracy (September 1) Average American Luke Wilson is sent 1000 years into the future, where the dumbed down society considers him a genius. Mike Judge's follow-up to Office Space, another of my funniest flicks. I am super-psyched.
• Crank (September 1) Jason Statham (Transporter) is a hitman with 24 hours to save his girlfriend before he succombs to a poison, so he goes on a tear. Statham is a British ass-kicking machine. I am ultra-mega-psyched.
• Employee of the Month (September 29) The fact that Dane Cook is in this far redeems the fact that Jessica Simpson is also. Simpson is a Costco associate who mentions she will date the employee of the month, causing slacker co-workers Cook and Dax Shapard to try and out-do each other. Dane Cook is my comedic hero. I don't have a level of psyched for this.

Okay, so I know I pushed it a bit by going into September, but I want everyone to start salivating about Dane Cook. Did that sound creepy? I don't care. He is my own personal Jesus. I'm sitting outside his window as I write this. I have to go, I think he just called the cops.

Review: M:I:III

Or as Stephen Colbert calls it, "Miiiih". Tom Cruise takes a lot of abuse. For his belief system, for his love life, for his crazy antics and rants on psychotherapy. He may have created the career equivalent to a TV show "jumping the shark" by being the basis for the phrase "jumping the couch". But, like him or not, the little guy can really make a blockbuster. Time and again he has proved his mettle on the big screen with the big effects. So here it is, ten years after the original M:I movie, a kinder, gentler, family oriented Ethan Hunt. He has taken a step back from his career in order to be close to his fiancée Julia, a diminutive brunette nearly twenty years his junior, who he falls head over heels for... wait, is this still the movie, or People magazine? Anyway, in this case, the brunette is Michelle Monaghan, who showed up in four big movies last year, although you may not remember her from any of them. Ethan and Julia have just gotten engaged when a mysterious call comes in telling Ethan he's just won a trip to Mexico, if he's interested. Making an excuse, he excuses (do you mind if I do that?) himself and heads to the local 7-11, where he is given instructions for his next Impossible Mission by his former IMF (Impossible Mission Force, who'd have guessed) agency supervisor, Musgrave (Billy Crudup). That mission? To extricate Hunt's former protegé from her captors. Apparently, Lindsay Ferris (former Felicity Kerri Russell) has information that will lead to a notorious arms dealer Owen Davian (reigning Best Actor Philip Seymour Hoffman) and his plans for selling the Rabbit's Foot, a plot device that is never fully revealed.

So the game is afoot, and Ethan is joined with a team, including series stalwart Ving Rhames as Luther Strickell. After they 'rescue' Agent Ferris, she begins to have a splitting headache, which turns out to be an explosive charge implanted in her head. I don't want to spoil it, but we don't see her for the rest of the movie, so draw your own conclusions. What follows is non-stop action and adventure, as Ethan and his team go on unauthorized missions to invade the Vatican, where the sale is being made, and Shanghai, where Ethan must recover the Rabbit's Foot, and rescue his lady love, all the while uncovering clues that lead to a mole within IMF. Cars explode and flip over, helicopters make narrow escapes, people jump off buildings and scale walls, standard stuff designed to bust the block, and first time feature director J.J. Abrams does it with all the style and mystique that have shown up on his prime-time series' Alias and Lost. I mean it, all the style and mystique. You can literally pinpoint scenes within the movie that hark back to those shows. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. I bet fans would really enjoy an Alias movie to tie up loose ends. I know X-Files fans are still waiting for theirs. It's a pretty auspicious debut for Abrams, getting to spend $185 million (that's a made-up number, but it sounds true) on his first movie. The next one is sure to be a letdown, normally. But when the next one is a rumoured eleventh Star Trek flick, who knows, maybe he's managed to skip low-budget resumé fillers altogether.

Anyway, you can start applying your sunscreen and leave your brain at home. Summer movie season has begun. With nothing but sequels, remakes and adaptations on the slate, no longer will we have to apply our grey matter to anything more complicated than why the Wayans Brothers are still allowed near cameras. I'll be back soon to run down some of the summer movies I'm looking forward to seeing (and dissing). But take this to heart, Tom Cruise, although I don't care for him as a real guy, can still sell me on Ethan Hunt and his take-few-prisoners style of justice.

∆∆∆1/2 of 5

Birthday Madness!

Over the last week, four significant people in my life have celebrated birthdays. On May the Fourth (Be With You), it was my brother James' 11th up in Quesnel. I can't believe that somehow they are aging at the same rate as me. On the Sixth was my sister Tenniele in Langley. She just turned 10, and was sick all through it, poor thing. And just yesterday, on the Ninth, was my roommate Lorenzo's 25th. I and my two buddies chipped in to get him a nice leather desk chair, as he had been floundering in a Brokeback Taskchair, (in that the back was broke, not that there was some sort of unsettling relationship between him and the chair) and he was thrilled. We celebrated by getting drunk on Jack n' Cokes and watching the explosive finale of Veronica Mars. I lost count of the times I said, "Oh, snap!" It's crazy to see the three bad guys go down all at once. "Wait Steve, didn't you say four people?" Oh right, thanks, I was getting off track. The Ninth was also my good friend Kristy's 21st birthday. There was a party on Saturday that lasted long and loud at her new place. But as an added bonus, I'll be taking her to see Rain: The Beatles Experience this weekend. The tickets were a birthday gift from my mom, back in March. And coming up on the 16th is my cousin Ashley's 25th birthday. Hmm, so many May birthdays... people must be getting busy in August-September. Maybe the end of summer is some kind of aphrodesiac.

Ennyweigh, must dash off to buy more wrapping paper. Happy birthday everybody!

Review: The Sentinel

Two fine actors were typecast in this new movie, but we got to see what Eva Longoria can do when she's not showing off her breasts all the time, so it's a tradeoff. The Sentinel follows the formula of the 'wrongfully accused' film, like The Fugitive or The Bourne Identity. This time though, the accused is a top level Secret Service agent who once took a bullet for President Reagan. The aging agent, Michael Douglas, is typecast as a guy who wears a suit in every movie. Seriously, when was the last time he did not appear wearing a tie? I guess it was 1996's Ghost and the Darkness, and then before that, 1984's Romancing the Stone. Those are the only ones. Every other film, he's either a detective, a lawyer, a professor, a businessman, or in one movie, he was the President. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Anyway, Douglas plays Pete Garrison, a veteran agent who plays by his own rules, and incidently is having an affair with the First Lady, Kim Basinger. The secrecy surrounding their torrid affair puts Pete in the spotlight when a plot to kill the President is revealed to involve a mole inside the Secret Service. Leading the investigation is typecasting victim numero two, Kiefer Sutherland as Dave Breckinridge, Pete's former protege who broke off ties when he suspected Pete of conducting and affair with his wife. Whew, enough information for you? Kiefer, known to all as 24's Jack Bauer, plays the American patriot with such aplomb, it may be hard to reconcile the idea that he's a Canuck. And while he plays it very understated most of the time, we still get glimpses of Bauer, when Breckinridge mutters, "Damn it," or yells, "Holster your weapon!" and, "I don't have a visual!" Dave's rookie partner in the investigation is Ms. Longoria, as Jill Marin, trying to look demure, while other agents are trying to look down her blouse.

So, all the major players are known now, so let the mayhem begin. The evidence gathered by Dave and Jill starts to point at Pete, who fails a polygraph, while protecting his relationship with the First Lady. In order to find the real culprit, Pete goes on the run, staying one step ahead of his pursuers. His own investigation leads him to suspect that the assassination attempt will happen at the upcoming G8 Summit in Toronto (Go Canada!). Whenever something happens in Canada in an American movie, I worry. I worry that the stereotypes will be further perpetuated, and that everyone will say "Eh?" and be fighting through snow drifts. I have to say that for the most part, they were very respectful, the only naughty part I caught was a blink and you miss it visual. Luckily, I have a picture (right). There's Pete, in a Toronto fingerprint lab (that looks very state-of-the-art, I'm impressed), looking for clues to a culprit, and there on the lab counter is four bottles of beer. Like the Canadian forensic squad can't function without alcoholic assistance. Oh well, they had to get their jabs in. Soon, our dollar will be stronger, and we shall rule the world.

So, while Dave tries to bring in Pete, Pete is trying to bring in the real assassins. We've seen it before, and we'll see it again. Douglas and Sutherland are totally at ease in their roles, but Longoria probably just took the first halfway decent script that was handed to her. It almost felt as though her part was just sort of scribbled in during production. Her character really doesn't play much of a role, and appeared to be given plot points that would have otherwise been delegated to a variety of secondary figures.

All in all, a pretty decent impostor to the 'wrongfully accused' throne, held by The Fugitive. It was fairly suspenseful, with a modicum of action sequences. Maybe it would have played better during the summer or fall, when we don't get to see Kiefer running around, being all-around superagent Jack Bauer. He plays more effective on TV, when you can see the weariness and resolve on his face, while playing out scenarios. And Michael can still wear a suit better than most, so he's still got a few years. And here's hoping Eva can get that nice romantic comedy she wants, opposite... oh, I don't know, let's say... Matthew McConaughey.

∆∆∆ of 5

Biking for MS

I mentioned in an earlier post that a good friend of mine, Andrew Kristoff, was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis three years ago. Since then, his condition has steadily worsened, and it's been hard for his family and friends to see him suffer, as he is one of the nicest young men you're liable to meet. I recently particpated in the Annual Walk for MS as a support team and we raised over $6000 as a group for research. In that spirit, Andrew's brother Carl (pictured right) and his best friend Sean Macalister (left) are biking across Canada to raise money and awareness for MS. Please visit their site, http://www.coasttocoastbiketrip.com and check out their progress. They started in Tofino, BC (my old stomping grounds) on May 5th and made it back to Vancouver on the 8th for a final dinner with their families, before heading out for the summer tomorrow.

This is a fantastic thing they're doing, and for a great cause too. Good luck to them, and we're all rooting for you back here, guys.

Brilliant Ideas for Hire #2

Since I've been talking about vidja games lately, I'd like to sell you on a sweet game idea I had some time ago. I don't know about you, but I used to be a huge fan of Battle Chess. Not so much of the actual strategizing and whatnot, but the fact that when you made a move to take out your opponent's piece, there was an animated sequence of say, the bishop moving over to the knight, there would be a short skirmish, and the bishop would hit him with his staff, and he would go down. Now, I haven't kept up with recent chess games, but other than the mini-game on Mortal Kombat: Deception, I haven't seen anything like it since.

Which brings me to my idea. Rather than just having plain ol' knights, rooks and pawns, why not have thematic groups, each with their own fighting styles and weaponry, but with the same rules as chess, obviously. The teams could include groups such as samurais/ninjas, soldiers, pirates, athletes, aliens, robots, animals, gunslingers and whatever else. Imagine going King's Rook to f8, and a hockey goalie runs out onto the battlefield and bludgeons a ronin to death with his stick after they dueled for a bit. The camera would swoop down from above and capture the epic sequence, ending with the goalie affecting a victorious stance. The board itself could be a grassy meadow, with lighter and darker shades, or perhaps a sandy desert. Every character would have two specific ways to encounter each other one, a winning fight, and a losing cause. The coding would be enormous, but that's why it's just an idea right now. If anyone wants to use my idea, go for it, just give me a shout out and send me a copy (for PS2 or the Mac). Welcome to World of WarChess. Or maybe EverChess? It'll be huge someday. You'll see. You'll all see!

The possibilities are endless

While discussing Silent Hill the other day, I was struck by the poor quality of movies that are spawned by vidja [read: video] games. But really, what can we expect from them. The reason we love these games are because the action and excitement is determined by us, not some Hollywood hack who tries to infuse the characters of Street Fighter with back stories and relationships. Seriously, E. Honda as a news cameraman? Dhalsim as a scientist? But would the movie have been better if it was just 90 minutes of random ass-kickings, I ask you. Would you have felt better about Super Mario Bros. if Bob Hoskins and John Leguizamo just ran around, jumping on mushrooms and turtles, finding coins in pipes? I doubt it. The reason these movies got made was so that producers could trade on the built-in audience that the games already had, and make some easy money. Can you imagine if they had made a Pac-Man movie? What if, instead of a yellow pie shape, he was a detective, who ate fruit and hunted ghosts in maze-like buldings. That would have sucked big-time, no doubt, but more importantly, it would have soured people on the game, even though it would share nothing in common other than the name.

But rather than dismiss the genre altogether, I believe there may yet be hope for the VGM (video game movie), but it depends on the property. Here now is a (by no means comprehensive) list of games that could theoretically become successful adaptations:

• The Legend of Zelda. This is one of the oldest franchises out there, and ripe for the picking. Get Orlando Bloom as Link (he already has the ears), and away you go.
• Prince of Persia. Skip along to Sands of Time or Two Thrones, and you've got a high-concept adventure film set in a currently fascinating land.
• Jak and Daxter. I mentioned this in the earlier post, but this could make for a great family film that doesn't sink down to a kid's mentality. Guy and his cute yet snarky animal friend save the day. Box office gold.
• Metal Gear Solid. With a Matt Damon-like guy playing Solid Snake, this could be the next Bond-esque franchise, or that honour could also go to...
• Splinter Cell. I have heard rumblings about a film based on the stealth game, which could add up for some thrilling suspense, and then when he finally goes berserker, watch out!
• God of War. This game was so cinematic by itself, I'm not whether a film version could even do it justice, but I'd love to see them try.
• Grand Theft Auto. I have heard that there is indeed a film in the works, but how faithful will they be. It would be interesting if they did GTAIII (the first one worth doing) and had, say, Clive Owen as the protagonist, not say a word throughout the whole film, and just being this heartless killer, pulling folks out of their cars and shooting AK's into police choppers.
• Final Fantasy. This long-standing franchise deserves a real adaptation, not that crazy-as-hell (although gorgeous to look at) Spirits Within dealie.
• Ratchet and Clank. I may be reaching here, but maybe as a direct-to-video CGI film it could draw some sales. There's plenty of story to mine for inspiration.
  
• Half-Life. One of the most engrossing titles of the last few years, this mutation/alien storyline is the stuff Hollywood eats up with a spork.
• TimeSplitters. Also mentioned before, this is a game that isn't afraid to have fun with carnage, and spread across three games is enough time-jumping adventure to pad out at least one movie. Vin Diesel would have to play Cortez. There can be only one.
• Fatal Frame. I don't know much about this spooky series, but I'd be willing to sacrifice it to Uwe Boll's altar of shite VGM's.
• Killer7. The game itself may have appeared simplistic, but the idea behind it could make for great VGM fodder, with a team of seven assassins, who may just be one schizophrenic man.
• Driver. An undercover cop who works as a hired wheelman for the mob? Good stuff. I see Joachin Phoenix as the conflicted driver.
• Max Payne. There's no detective stories like film noir detective stories, and this was a doozy.
• Dead to Rights. Another straight-up cop story, this time with a dog and bullet time sequences.
  
• Metroid. A female assassin in outer space? I'm looking at you, Jennifer Garner.
• No One Lives Forever. This 60's era spy game took the Bond mentality and applied it to the Austin Powers milieu.
  
• Perfect Dark. Three female centered games in a row? Coincidence? Maybe. Here's a story of revenge that audiences eat up.
  
• Syphon Filter. Maybe the whole stealth shooting thing is getting old, but you could still get one movie out of this title. And that's all anyone can ask for, right?
• Myst. This series of games offer some of the most dramatically breathtaking scenery offered and some top-notch mysteries to be solved. Sign up Peter Jackson.

That's all I can come up with, or dutifully type out, for now, but I'm sure I've missed some important ones, so let me know what great games could become mediocre to okay movies. Here's hoping SpyHunter doesn't suck too hard with The Rock (can we stop calling him that yet? He hasn't been a wrestler for years now. Let's call him Dwayne Johnson... actually, I guess The Rock suits him more) and that Halo will break the bad adaptation trend for good.

Until next time, may all your viewer discretion be ill-advised.

Review: American Dreamz

Call me old-fashioned, but I believe music belongs on the radio. I don't watch MTV or it's bastardized Canadian cousin, MuchMusic, I don't watch musicals (and I have a lot to say on that subject, believe me) and I don't watch American Idol. I don't need to see the people who are singing to me. Musicians don't need to prove to me that they are pretty. That's false talent, and helps people like Britney Spears and *N*Sync* (I don't care where it goes) become musical sensations. If your music is good, that's plenty good enough for me. Unfortunately, I am but one person, and everybody else seems to just loooove American Idol. They love the "drama", the "excitement", the "unpredictability" of reality TV, although we all know in our hearts that everything dramatic that happens is staged and edited together. The editors of these shows are the real heroes. Having to sit through hours of uninteresting footage to splice together 44 minutes of useable, gasp-inducing television can't be an easy job, and I don't envy them. But Steve, you say, American Idol is done live, how can that be faked? By pushing the audience towards the intended winners. I'll bet that all the winners had, during the audition process, been interviewed and featured long before they got to Hollywood. I couldn't tell you for sure, as I already mentioned, I don't watch the show. Never have, never will.

American Dreamz is a satire so broad in scope, yet so minutely detailed, I'm surprised the producers haven't been sued for copyright infringement. It tells a few simutaneous stories. The first is of a President (Dennis Quaid), who has lost touch with the world after winning re-election, and relies on his wife (Marcia Gay Harden) and Chief of Staff (Willem Dafoe) to keep the country running. The next is of an Iraqi (Sam Golzari) who is such a failure as a terrorist, he is sent to Orange County to live with his indulgent cousins where he sings show-tunes and waits for a sleeper cell to contact him. The third is of a middle class Ohio waitress (Mandy Moore) who has waited he whole life to be a star, leaving her sensitive boyfriend (Chris Klein) behind her. All of these stories converge on American Dreamz, the hottest show in America, with a 92% share rating, hosted by the crass and charming Martin Tweed (Hugh Grant). In order to remain on top of the ratings game, Tweed orders his minions to find him some "freaks". People to laugh at, cry with, masturbate to (his words, not mine). He wants an Arab and a Jew on his show, the former being our Iraqi, Omer, who is mistakenly invited on after producers see him singing show tunes in the basement. Sally Kendoo (Moore) is brought on after Tweed sense a kindred spirit within her Kendoo-can-do attitude and borderline sociopathic desire to win at all costs. The President is scheduled to appear as a guest judge on the season finale, in order to boost his approval ratings. Omer is contacted by his sleeper cell, having pieced this together, and tell Omer he must make it to the finals so he may martyr himself and blow up the President. "What if I don't make it to the final round?" Omer asks. "Folks don't call me 'The Torturer' because I don't like to torture people," he is told.

Meanwhile, Sally is being whipped into a media human interest tornado, with her boyfriend, freshly returned from a stint in Iraq, back in the picture, and ready to have heart-rending songs dedicated to him. And everybody is glued to their sets to see who "WHO!" will be crowned the next American Dreamer. Even the terrorists watching from tents in Iraq. Many current affairs are poked at in this film, not the least of which is the cold heartlessness of American reality TV. Also satirized to the breaking point is the idea that the President could somehow be manipulated by the people around him, because he is unable to make decisions for himself. Where did they get that notion, I wonder. The movie sometimes smacks of an overlong SNL sketch written by Jon Stewart. But at other points, the film is a spot-on look at everything that other countries must see when they look at America. The good and the bad. Nobody gets away scot-free here, and most compassionate character is the would-be Iraqi terrorist. There is much animosity surrounding this movie, people who don't like things pointed out to them that should be obvious. This movie took two things I don't like, American Idol and the U.S.'s foreign policy, and put them together somehow, allowing me to vent my frustrations in a tidy efficient manner. Thanks Paul Weitz, director of American Pie and About a Boy, you've saved me from all reality shows (except The Amazing Race, which is probably the guiltiest party in terms of creative editing, but I can't help it) past and future.

∆∆∆ of 5

Nostradamus I Ain't

I'm really not good at this predicting thing. I went 5 for 8 in the first round of the playoffs. Every top seed in the west is gone, every top seed in the east continues. Now that Anaheim has picked off Calgary, thus proving that you need more than Miikka Kiprusoff to win the Stanley Cup, the west looks wide open. So now, Edmonton faces the Sharks, and Anaheim will battle the Avs. Now, my gut says to take San Jose with their powerhouse lineup, but seeing how the Oilers shut down Detroit's overwhelming offense by employing the trap, gives me pause. Meanwhile, Colorado's doormatification of Dallas says that they will win out over the Ducks' suddenly unMighty Giguere.

In the East, my record is intact 4-for-4 (444?) with all the teams that should have won... did have won. Ottawa will play host to the Sabres, while New Jersey and Carolina have at it. The former series will be the exciting one, with Ottawa's 23 goals in 5 games versus Buffalo's 27 in 6. Experience says that Ottawa will now choke magnificently, but I firmly believe this is the Sens' year, now more than ever since the West is so depleted. Devils and Carolina? This series will be decided by who can hold slim leads longer, since neither team lit up the scoreboards, with Jersey's 17 in 4, or the Canes' 15 in 6. The smart money is on NJ's Brodeur, who has done it before and will do it again.

So, summing up: Sharks will be victorious over Oilers, in a long drawn out 7-game series; Avs will continue to dominate, wiping out Ducks in 5; Senators will prevail over Sabres in grand goals-aflying series in 6; and Devils will lock out suddenly impotent Hurricanes in 5 games.

Then, being cocky for no reason, Sharks will find solution to Avs within 6 games, and Sens' will come out the victor in the battle between goal scoring and goaltending.

Finally, the Sharks' Cinderella season (because after defeating Edmonton and Colorado, only team left for that honour) will come to and end as Ottawa's Cash Line (Alfredsson, Heatley, Spezza) will overrule the as-yet-unnamed line (can I suggest Hammerhead Line?) of Thornton, Cheechoo and Ekman.

Ottawa will stand tall as Canada's first Stanley Cup winner since Montreal in 1993. And the country will be proud once again after the unholy ass-whupping at the Olympics.

That's just my prediction anyway. Once I'm proven wrong in two weeks, I'll update it again.

Review: Silent Hill

Movies are fun and exciting, where we are transported into new worlds and watch interesting things happen to other people. Video games are fun and exciting, where we are transported into new worlds and make interesting things happen to other people. Somehow, these two similar media are completely and utterly unable to intersect. Many video games based on movies are lame retreads of the films' plot, with some extra stuff thrown in for good measure. Lately, these have been getting much better, like King Kong, or Star Wars, or whatever. But movie based on video games? They can't get their act together to save their lives, and for Uwe Boll, he might have to, after a string of crappy-ass game adaptations. Consider this: The best video game movie ever made, according to most, was 1995's Mortal Kombat. And that was not a good movie, by any stretch of the imagination. Gamers have been subjected to such pain and misery when it comes to seeing their favourite games up on the big screen, with such cinematic abominations as: Super Mario Bros., Double Dragon, Street Fighter, Resident Evil, Tomb Raider: Lara Croft, BloodRayne, Doom and Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within. There may have even been hope for some of these, had they stuck more closely to the events of the games, but probably not.

Which brings us to Silent Hill. The film is based on the first two games of what is now a four-part series. Now, as a disclaimer, the only contact I've had with the Silent Hill games was a demo of SH3 that scared the bajeezus out of me. So forgive me if I base my views on that. Having said that, here goes. This is a pretty good video game movie. It stuck to the overall premise of the game without being a step-by-step plot summary. It was not a horrifying experience that counted on gore and violence to wow the crowd, although it did have a healthy dose of both. It was a nightmarish, suspenseful piece of filmmaking, that, while it didn't scare the bajeezus out of me, it had me properly spooked. The visuals appeared to be a close match to those found within the game, and that's important. It hit pretty much everything you should have in order to have a successful adaptation... everything that is, except the acting.

Radha Mitchell, who you might know from... something, I don't know, plays Rose, a family woman whose adopted daughter has serious issues with sleepwalking and yelling out, "Silent Hill!" Well, it doesn't take long for Rose and Sharon to take off on a day trip. Much to the dismay of her husband, Sean Bean (006 and Boromir), they head off to the site of a catastrophic coal fire, which wiped out the town of Silent Hill, W. Va. 30 odd years ago. On the way, they pull into a gas station where they catch the attention of a motocop, who decides to pursue them. An accident on the road knocks out Rose and awakes to a sky so ashen, you can barely see 20 feet in front of you. But what's that Rose? Sharon's gone? and you need to go look for her? Good thing that cop is there to help out. Basically what follows is a succession of scenes where both Rose and her husband (in different scenes, obviously) discover clues about the fate of the people of Silent Hill, and the creepy goings-on within. Even more basically is a succession of scenes where Rose runs around yelling, "Sharon? Sharon!" Yet more basically still is a succession of scenes.

The acting was kinda goofy, the ending was both frustrating and 'Huh?'-inducing, the visuals were creepy and weird and it didn't leave room for a sequel. All in all, a moderately successful video-game movie. Why can't we have great ones? We may never know, although there are some promising ones in the works, and I can think of a few good ones. Grand Theft Auto is in production, as is SpyHunter, and Halo has Ridley Scott attached. Why not a game of Splinter Cell, or HalfLife, or WarCraft? Maybe a TimeSplitters game with Vin Diesel, or Jak and Daxter with Orlando Bloom and Mike Myers as the voice of Daxter. Maybe not, but the genre can only get better, it can hardly get any worse. Unless Uwe Boll is allowed to keep making movies.

∆∆1/2 of 5

Another Week Gone By

Hola amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped atcha, so here's another weekly update of what's been a-going on.

Big news item #1: This past weekend marked the 12th Annual Bill Bader Golf Tournament in Osoyoos, BC. Every year the Baders, Chadseys, Johnstons and whathaveyous, all trek from their respective corners of North America to play golf in the warm Okanagan sun. Only this year, we played some golf in the thunderous Okanagan rain. Well, maybe not that bad, but we almost packed it in. I love the weekend because it gives me the chance to catch up and hang out with my cousins. Derek and his girlfriend Yvonne came up from Denver and I drove them up to Canada's Desert Wine Country (as they like to call it up there). But it was (from my perspective anyway) kind of a bust, as most of my cousins were no-shows. Out of a possible 15 cousins, only six were there, and three of them were from one family. So the fact that the partying quotient went down, coupled with the rainy golfing (and I'm not a good golfer to begin with {although I did sink a beautiful 20-foot chip shot [is it okay that I'm nesting parentheses?]}) cast a shadow over the whole thing. But I still had as much fun as I could. Plus, when we came back on Sunday, we went out and tracked down my cousin Ashley and her b-f Graham, a local legend to all that know him. So we cruised downtown and drank some fermented hops at Limerick's Junction, then headed back to a place they're housesitting in Horseshoe Bay. That's when I got stoned...

Big news item #2: I was invited to a wedding for some friends of mine, Doug and Amoria. I got a call two Fridays ago asking if I had gotten their e-mail. I said I hadn't. They said do I want to come to their wedding. I said I'd love to. They said it would involve going on a cruise to the Caribbean for a week. I said oh, that's different then. They said yeah. I said I'd have to think about it. They said I had a week to decide. I said hmm. They said yeah. I said what's the damage. They said $1423 CDN. I said whoa. They said yeah. So I said I'd think about it. And I did. I thought about it this way and that way. It basically came down to a few things. On the one hand, I'd love to do it and I could realistically afford it. On the other hand, I just spent 3 g's on a Europe trip six months ago, and would it be totally irresponsible to do it, with so little disposable income coming in. So I woke up Friday morning, the day I had to decide, and then drive to Osoyoos (or The Big Day) and made this deal with myself: I will go on this trip, but I will throw myself back into getting the all-important Good Job. Because this is a once in a lifetime thing for me. I would probably never think to myself, "Jeez, I should really get on a boat for a week and just sit around." When I go on vacations, I'm a culture sponge. New York, London, Paris, famous cultural centres all. But on a cruise ship, I'll be partying with friends every night, getting laid in the shade (or in direct sunlight, whatever), drinking mojitos and pina coladas, soaking up some rays on my winter-whitened frame (since the cruise is next February). So, good times will be had, but I've got to kick my ass into action.

Hockey pool update: I suck at this. But seriously, who would have thought Edmonton would beat Detroit? Anybody pick that one? Or Colorado picking off Dallas, thanks to Marty Turco and his amazing folding meltdown. I also thought the Rangers would put up a decent struggle. Thank god Carolina's making a comeback, or else my rosters will be full of losers and Senators. I'm afraid to even look at my standings now.

TV update: I think 24's First Lady Martha Logan will overdose next episode, and it will be up to Mike Novik to save the day, with Aaron Pierce driving the getaway car. I hope the Hippies, BJ and Tyler win The Amazing Race, they just have so much fun out there, although the Frat Boys certainly deserve to win it, dominating as they have been. Lost has been slowly building up to a major conflict with the others, and I can't wait to see how it plays out. Methinks there will be some cast changes blowin' in the wind. Also, with the season coming to a close, I will be on the lookout for new shows. Last summer, I discovered Veronica Mars, and I have a few candidates for my Summer Rerun Show 2006. These include Prison Break, Medium and House. Shows I didn't get into at first, maybe because of scheduling conflicts, maybe because of personal bias, but may get a second lease during the off-season.

Stay tuned for more boring updates of crap nobody is reading. See y'all.