Review: Cars

Everybody had their doubts that Pixar could do it yet again. No way, after Toy Story, A Bug's Life, Toy Story 2, Monsters Inc., Finding Nemo and The Incredibles, could they strike gold once more. How is it possible that one company keeps making great movies when so many others are making drivel like Garfield 2 (seriously, who decided the first one was so loved that a sequel was necessary? He should be taken out and shot). Well, I am pleased to report that Cars, once feared to be Pixar's Waterloo, is a fine film in the grand old tradition. It's colourful and low-brow for the kids, with plenty of hidden jokes and references for the astute adults in the audience. Don't get me wrong, this is not up to the same standards as Finding Nemo, which may go down as the finest animated film ever (take that, Beauty and the Beast!) but there's only so many times you can keep improving on greatness. It was bound to happen that eventually, one film would not be better than the last. But even the low end of the Pixar scale is usually pure genius. I apologize if I keep jumping back and forth between calling this great and not as great, but rest assured, Cars is a great movie.

It tells the story of a rookie NASCAR named Lightning McQueen, voiced with all the slacker aplomb that Owen Wilson can muster. He and his rivals, the veteran near retirement The King (Richard Petty) and the rough-riding also-ran Chick (Michael Keaton), are tied for points in the series, and the deciding race, The Piston Cup, will determine who will snag the championship, as well as the new face of the largest sponsor, Dinoco. When the race ends in a three-way tie, the kind that only happens in movies, a deciding race is scheduled in California in a week's time. Lightning (Ka-chow!) is loved by fans and cameras. Coupes scream his name and RV's blow their air horns when he drives past. But, sadly, he is a lonely guy who fires his crew chief and believes he can win races solo. The closest things he has to friends are his truck driver Mack (perennial Pixar voice John Ratzenberger) and his agent Marv (perennial agent portrayer Jeremy Piven). So when he gets lost along the drive to California, he gets really lost. He winds up causing a asphalt-load of damage in a small town called Radiator Springs. For his behavior, he is sentenced to fix the road before he can leave. During that time, he meets the inhabitants of the town (top right), including a pair of Italian tire merchants (Tony Shalhoub), a redneck tow-truck (Larry the Cable Guy), a low-riding paint job artist (Cheech Marin), a surly mechanic/judge (Paul Newman) and the requisite displaced city girl (Bonnie Hunt). He learns the value of slowing down to appreciate life, and grows to love the town's laidback appeal. But that's not all he learns, and he still has to get to California in time for the big race! How will he do it?! I ain't tellin'.

If you go to Cars, expecting it to be better than the last Pixar film, you may be a tad disappointed, but if you go see it expecting it to be better than any other animated film this year, I'm sure you won't be. The characters are colourful and cute, begging to be made into McDonald's Happy Meal toys. They basically look like Fisher-Price toys. It's a marketer's wet dream. But the backgrounds are bloody-well spectacular, and really give the sense that you stepped onto Route 66. You put these cartoonish characters onto photorealistic backgrounds, and you think it won't work, but hey, it's worked well for anime for all these years. Go see the film with the kids, and if not, go see it wearing sunglasses and a hat. Just go see it.

∆∆∆∆ of 5

Review: The Omen

Horror films have never really done it for me. I guess that comes from not seeing many until I was really old enough to not be affected. I mean, this is a guy who watched Basic Instinct with his parents, no less, at the age of 10. The only films that I recall scaring me were Jurassic Park (shut up, like you didn't jump when the velociraptor came out of the pipes) and Blown Away (I freaked out at the thought that anything could be a bomb. I had to sleep with a volleyball, just so that I could wake up and go, "What reason could I possibly have for holding this volleyball?"). Now that the parentheticals are out of the way... I watch movies like The Exorcist or The Grudge and I don't see what the fuss is about. I watched Hostel, the so-called, "Scariest movie in years" - some guy who wanted to get his name on TV, no doubt - and I was laughing. So forgive me if I didn't hide my eyes and scream in fright at the spawn of Satan in The Omen. The original, from 1976, came during the heyday of the horror genre, and starred Gregory Peck, one of the greatest actors of his generation. It was tense and disturbing, and gave many a parent the HeBGB's (or heebeejeebies).

The remake stars Liev Schreiber, whose best work was in The Manchurian Candidate (but did anyone see that?) and Julia Stiles, as Robert and Katherine Thorne, a political family on the rise. Robert, the godson of the President, is an ambassador (I'm generalizing, but it's a long story, and you can get it from the film). The movie begins promisingly enough, with the Vatican council scrutinizing Revelations and their correlations to recent world events. It's a whole montage of "Too soon?" imagery, featuring New Orleans, the Columbia shuttle and the Twin Towers. Their conclusions: that the day is nigh for the coming of the Anti-Christ, and he shall be born at 6 am on June 6th. Meanwhile, across town in a small Roman hospital, Robert arrives to find out his pregnant wife has just given birth, but lo and behold, the child has perished. The priest on call explains that another child had been born as well, to a mother who did not survive. So rather than face his wife with the heart-breaking truth, Robert decides to live a lie, since that never comes back to bite people in the ass. They raise little Damien (and here's a quick question, does anybody ever name their child that anymore?), a narrow-eyed, scowling little munchkin who barely says twenty cohesive words the entire film. But then, things start happening that make his parents believe he may not be the little prince that all parents believe their child to be. They hire a nanny, Mrs. Baylock (Mia Farrow, in a neat bit of stunt casting) to watch over Damien, but perhaps she has other, more insidious references thn just what's on her resume. What's more, the bizarre "accidents" seem to be foreshadowed by a politico paparazzo, Keith (played by David Thewlis, of Professor Lupin fame), who follows the American Ambassador to Great Britain with his high-speed camera, capturing everything and everyone around Robert. The deaths appear to be premonitioned (or whatever) by light effects on his photos. This leads him to seek out Robert, who, after being accosted by a bishop (Pete Postlethwaite), is becoming more and more suspicious of his little scamp. Robert, and his new friend, go on a quest to find out Damien's history, and maybe, just maybe, find out why his teacher said his social skills "need improvement" (psyche).

The movie is by all accounts, a pretty faithful adaptation of the original, which leads me to ask why it was necessary. The reason? The marketing was too perfect not to do it. It opened on June 6th, 2006, or for you morons out there, 06/06/06. They've probably been sitting on this for years, just waiting until the time was right. The movie itself is fine, I suppose. Schrieber has but one face, blank, and uses it in all situations. Stiles is sort of whiny and shrill. Farrow makes the most of her screen time by looking deliciously creeptastic. The scares? Mostly come via editing and nightmares. The death scenes are fairly elaborate, but you'd get more enjoyment out of Final Destination if that's what you're after. All in all, the film was pretty unnecessary, but it proves that marketing is the most important part of the movie business.

∆∆ of 5

Booze, News and Reviews

Howdy y'all. I've been a tad neglectful in my "duties" to inform you of whatsa goin on. So, I've got three quick movie reviews and a party recap.

Let's begin with the party. It was my good friend Erica's b-day (bidet?). Sorry, I'll write it out: birthday. So the whole gang (13 of us) crowded onto a party bus, which was in reality, a leather seated "special-ed" bus. Erica kindly provided us with some Jello shooters (there's always room for tequila), and we were promptly inebriated. The bus took us out to Maple Ridge, to a little place called Roosters. $3 Corona's and Double Margarita's were the order of the night, and soon we were all dancing to the strains of country's biggest stars. Of course, I don't go for country music, but when the rhythm is hot and so are the ladies, I can't help but hit the dance floor. It kinda went cyclical from there. Just going from the dance floor to the beer, and back again. They wouldn't let me sit for long. While Brad was trying to pass me off as the heir to the Sims Snowboard empire to every girl who'd listen, Amoria was keeping me busy, until Doug came down and took over for me. But every good thing must come to an end, and we hopped back on the bus to take us home, or at least, our home away from home, Doug's place. We debated on the way home about ordering a pizza, or taking the bus to a drive-through, but we eventually settled on BBQ'd burgers. And damned if they weren't the best burgers we'd ever tasted. It must have something to do with your blood alcohol level. So there you have it, another successful party. Happy bidet, Erica!

Moving on, I've seen three films that I've yet to get up here. One of them was a scathing commentary of amateur sports, one was a poignant look at environmental issues, and one was a comedy that depressed me to no end. Give up? They are Stick It, Over the Hedge, and The Break-Up.

Stick It, from the makers of Bring It On, is about the cut-throat world of gymnastics, and the shoddy scoring system, that threatens it's future. Do you care? Well, you can stop, because although it makes plenty of good points and features plenty of top-rate ass (I didn't research this, so forgive me if you find out that those asses belong to a bunch of fifteen-year-olds. They shouldn't even be in there!), the film offers no real redeeming value to casual moviegoers. The only recognizable actor in the film is Jeff Bridges, and you can almost see the bulging pockets... from the money! The money, I mean! Jeez Louise you people are sensitive. Let me roll it up for you here: Tomboy gets in trouble, gets sent to gymnastics school, makes friends with former enemies, goes to finals, yada yada yada, everybody's in spandex. ∆1/2 of 5

Over the Hedge is a Dreamworks film about a group of critter who wake from hibernation to find that their habitat has been turned into a sprawling Levittown-style suburb. They turn to a street-wise raccoon (Bruce Willis) to teach them a new way to forage. This grinds the gears of the group leader, a methodical (is there any other kind) turtle, voiced by Garry Shandling. The movie features a top-rate voice cast (William Shatner, Steve Carell, Alison Janney, Wanda Sykes, Eugene Levy, even Avril Lavigne) and takes full advantage of the CGI effects, with plenty of jokes and levity for the kids. But at the heart of the story is the reality of the human population explosion, and the effect it has on other species. But it quickly drops the heavy-handed message for mad-cap excitement, so you don't have to spend hours explaining to the children why there are no squirrels in your backyard. ∆∆∆ of 5

The Break-Up was hyped as the romantic comedy of the summer, featuring two golden geese who may or may not be entwined in real life. Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston (or Vaughniston as they prefer to be called [inner side note: Why not Vinnifer, like Bennifer?]) are two likeable people who pair up and are living what appears to be the good life, according to the candid photos in the credits. But as always happens, things are not as they appear. She is tired of doing all the work in the relationship, and he is a douchebag. So, she impulsively breaks up with him, following a dinner party. He is shocked but moves on, or so he would like her to think. The problem is that they are both part-owners of a lovely condo, and neither one wants to leave. They mark their territories in increasingly obnoxious ways, by inviting a men's choir to practice, or by throwing a strip poker tournament. Then by the time the true feelings surface, you're about ready to break up with your own significant other for bringing you to this downer. But I won't say anything more, lest I be sued for slander. ∆∆ of 5

Tune in next time, when my panel and I will be discussing the film, Thank You for Smoking. Goodnight from all of us here, the monitor is closed. Doo-doodoo doo-doo doo doo-doo.