Jun
30
“Quantum of Solace” Trailer
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“The Dark Knight” has begun screening for critics. Full reviews aren’t up yet, but the buzz is that director Chris Nolan still can’t shoot action sequences. Nolan’s one of a handful of directors who doesn’t use a second unit. Every shot in “Batman Begins” was in fact directed by Christopher Nolan. It may sound weird, but most directors don’t “direct” every scene in a movie. It’s the second (and third and fourth) unit directors who handle the big action setpieces. The first-unit directors — the ones who get all the credit — call the shots on the quieter, more character-driven scenes.
The upcoming James Bond film, “Quantum of Solace,” has one hell of a second-unit director. The trailer is up on Moviefone, and once they feed the hamster in the wheel that powers their servers, you might actually get to see the whole thing.
I love “Casino Royale” so much, I plan on marrying it once it turns 18. “Quantum” is supposed to be a direct sequel, a first for the Bond franchise. It appears to pick up right after the previous film, with Bond and Judi Dench’s M interrogating the recently-hobbled Mr. White. Coming off “Royale,” Daniel Craig’s fair-haired and well-toned Bond is batting 0-2 with Bond Girls who live to see the end credits. “Quantum of Solace” appears to have another pair for him to maybe or maybe not save from the clutches of new villain Dominic Greene. From what I saw in the money shot montage during the final third of the trailer, it looks as though the producers weren’t kidding when they said this film would double-down on the amount of action in “Royale.” As long as it’s coherent, I’m fine with that.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
29
Dear Hollywood,
Verne Troyer has a sex tape. When I stumbled on this bit of non-news the other day, I thought I was reading an article from “The Onion.” But, no, Mike Myers’ favorite piece of prop comedy actually filmed himself having sex with his girlfriend. TMZ — the site that represents everything I hate about infotainment — hastily posted a short clip of the kissing scenes, but a judge made them take it right back down again by issuing a temporary restraining order. Porno distributor SugarDVD is also blocked from selling the 50-minute film to the masses. According to Troyer’s publicist, who I like to imagine is knee-high to a caterpillar and has a small, squeaky voice, “Mr. Troyer is extremely distraught by the recent exploitation of his private life.”
Fun fact: All of this could have been avoided if Troyer hadn’t gotten the bright idea to film himself having sex in the first place!
When I Googled “sex tape,” one of the results was from the celebrity sex tape page on Wikipedia. Good heavens! I’m surprised Lassie isn’t on the list. These are very same B- and C-listers that come to blows with the paparazzi for taking pictures of them in a supermarket parking lot, but they’re happy to hit the “Record” button before beginning a round of poorly-lit bedroom gymnastics. Hypocritical much?
Now I’m not a fan of paparazzi photos, nor do I dig sex tapes. I hate them both with equal aplomb, mostly due to the lack of craftsmanship. What I hate more are celebs acting all butt-hurt when self-produced videos of their butts emerge on the web. These simpletons live in multimillion-dollar estates with 24-hour security patrols, guard dogs and machine gun turrets. But somehow, a sex tape manages to grow a pair of legs and make its way off the premises and into the manicured hands of the salacious scumbags at TMZ.
Here’s a nickel’s worth of free advice, Hollywood: Turn the camera off when you turn yourself on. You’re not even being paid for your performance, nor do you get a per diem, a hair and makeup stylist or even a percentage of the back-end — the back-end grosses, anyway. If you absolutely must watch yourself having sex, your narcissitic creepos, buy a mirror.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
28
iO West Now Has a Drive-Thru
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Last Wednesday marked the end of my Level 1 improv class at iO West. Last Thursday marked the end of iO West’s front entrance when an SUV bounced onto the sidewalk, skittered over Chris Farley’s star on the Walk of Fame, and plunged through the glass doors. I don’t believe al-Qaeda have been ruled out as suspects. But I still think we should invade another Middle Eastern country just to be sure.
It looks as though the bar was completely destroyed, another reason to blame al-Qaeda; Islamo-Fascists don’t drink! Shows have been postponed until July 7th, but classes will remain on-schedule. I hadn’t signed up for Level 2 classes before the events of 6/26 (never forget!), having put my improv comedy studies on hold so I can spend the summer in Europe. I’m not physically going to Europe, but there are some foreign films at the top of my Netflix queue. “The Dirty Dozen” counts, right?
Seriously, folks, out of all the places in Hollywood that could’ve been hit, I am saddened that it had to be iO. There’s a Popeye’s Chicken a block over from iO on Cahuenga that looks like a truck already drove through it. But that’s why they’re called “terrorists.” They don’t enjoy improv comedy like you or I. And they drive gas-guzzling SUVs — all the more reason to hate them.
The only way we can fight these monsters is to keep buying stuff, like tickets to upcoming iO shows once their doors reopen. You should also vote for John McCain or we’ll just get hit again. Maybe next time it’ll be the Groundlings or Second City. I’m willing to make the “ultimate sacrifice” by driving to Hollywood on a weeknight(!!!) to check out an iO show. But I won’t have to worry about parking now that they have a drive-thru.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
27
“We are Tonight’s Entertainment!”
Filed Under Blockbusters, Comics, Movies | 2 Comments
I’ve fallen a little behind on my blogging this week, mostly because there’s not a whole hell of a lot going on the world of entertainment worth talking about.
There’s the pre-release confusion fanboys seem to be having about this weekend’s “Wall-E,” a film with a pro-environmental message that’s completely unintentional — at least, according to the film’s oblivious director, Andrew Stanton; it’s hard to get behind a movie that the filmmaker doesn’t seem to understand himself. But I’m not going to see “Wall-E,” so I couldn’t care less about uncertain fanboys who give Pixar too much credit anyway.
“Wanted” is also dropping today. The reviews seem to be generally more kind than I’d anticipated. But this film’s jettisoned its core in favor of something more commercial. And frankly, I’m sort of over Angelina Jolie. I’d rather she take a long break from acting and instead pursue her endless campaign of adopting children from third world countries while continuously hatching a couple of her own every year or so. Seeing her play another stone-faced and excessively tattooed action goddess is not on my priorities list. She’s simply horrible in these kinds of roles, like a female Dwayne Johnson. Invincible movie action heroes haven’t been popular since parachute pants.
The only movie I got a ticket for this weekend is a movie that won’t be out for another three weeks — “The Dark Knight.” You may be somewhat familiar with this movie already. I’m not going to suggest that if you are unaware of the film, you’ve been living in a cave because that’s one of my all time least favorite cliches bandied about by sanctimonious entertainment writers. What’s more, with our current foreclosure crisis, living in caves might actually become more commonplace, and as a result, people are going to miss out on some industry buzz. But I digress.
For over a month, I’ve been on the ArcLight Cinemas website like ugly on an ape. I knew that advance tickets for “The Dark Knight” would become available sooner or later. It was just a question of when. Advance tickets became available last week at the Century Theaters, the best place to go in Los Angeles if you like annoying audiences. The midnight screening in IMAX at CityWalk is already sold out. So what took the ArcLight so long to start selling tickets? That I don’t know. But this morning, they were, they finally were.
The Dome was almost completely sold out for the 12:01 a.m. show. I like the Dome. It has a concave screen, so when you sit in the front row, it fills your peripheral vision. But the ArcLight, like at a ball game or rock concert, has reserved seating, and all the good seats were already taken. Reserved seating is the number one reason why I go to the ArcLight for mega-movie openings. I’m sick of waiting in line for an hour outside a theater to get a mediocre seat in the auditorium before being asked to move over to a slightly more mediocre seat so a couple can sit together — aww. I like knowing exactly where I’m going to sit when I get my ticket. And I know I’m going to have a reserved seat — front row, center — for the 12:15 a.m. screening in one of the ArcLight’s “black box” auditoriums; I imagine that if a plane crashes into the ArcLight and you’re in one of their black box auditoriums, you will survive.
So while most people are buying tickets for the two crummy movies opening this weekend, I’m looking ahead — three interminable weeks ahead — to watch the most anticipated movie of the summer…about a guy who lives in a cave.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
24
Comic-Conned
Filed Under Blockbusters, Comics, Conventions, Movies, TV | 1 Comment
The San Diego Comic-Con is a month from now. I’m not going. I’ve never gone. I probably will never go. I don’t desperately need a Charlie Brown bobble-head, even if it is a convention exclusive. The truth of the matter is, Comic-Con has sold out. It’s gone Hollywood. It’s just a bloated, over-extended and smelly press junket. Dozens of hungover actors and filmmakers — the ones who couldn’t contractually get out of going to this monster — sit on panels and field inane questions from wheezing dweebs. Footage is screened from movies that are a year or so away from being released. That shot of Iron Man outmaneuvering fighter jets — it was first shown at last year’s Comic-Con. And it was also in pretty much every trailer for the movie until it was released last May. Some people got to see it before I did. I guess they win at life.
Now, I like comic book conventions. Make no mistake. There’s one at the Shrine Auditorium in Downtown L.A. every month or so, and I almost always go. And Wizard World L.A.? I’ve been to it the past three years. You can find some great deals, fill in any gaps in your collection, and smell 32 different flavors of body odor all under one roof when you go to a convention.
At the Shrine, it’s dizzying how many different items are on sale: comics, action figures, DVDs, movie posters, pornography, Happy Meal toys, more pornography, bootlegs and still more pornography. Comic book creators, C-list actors and obscure pinup models are always on hand to sign autographs — sometimes for a fee, sometimes for free crack. It’s creepy, it’s seedy, it’s a horrible place to bring a girl you’re trying to impress. But that’s kind of what I like about it.
Comic-Con is a convention that’s like Tim Roth after too many injections of the super-soldier serum and being exposed to Bruce Banner’s gamma-irradiated blood. It’s an Abomination, is what I’m saying. I don’t like lines, and from what I’ve read, that’s all Comic-Con is — one enormous line. You wait in line to get in, you wait in line to see a panel, you wait in line to buy a convention exclusive (Charlie Brown bobble head — w00t!), you wait in line to get free swag, you wait in line to smell the smelliest convention attendees. You have to begin doubting your patriotism when you go to an event that people line up for hours in advance. Lines are for Communists.
That said, you won’t see me queuing up at Comic-Con this year, or next year, or ever. Bugger that. I have Internet, I have an eBay account. Anything momentous that happens there — I’ll read about it soon enough online. Any bit of swag there that you can’t get anywhere else — it’ll be up for auction on eBay before you can say, “Why would anyone buy a Charlie Brown bobble head?” All the footage and previews and clips that are shown there — it’s guaranteed to be coming soon to a theater near you. So why do people keep going to this thing in droves? Well, they fell for the biggest Con of them all.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
23
Marvel Team-Up, Not Featuring Spider-Man
Filed Under Blockbusters, Comics, Movies | 1 Comment
Spider-Man’s never been much of a team player. He was in “Marvel Team-Up Featuring Spider-Man” with various and sundry guest stars over the years, but his pairings never led to a full-fledged partnership. Recently he joined the New Avengers after the events of “Avengers Disassembled.” Then the Civil War broke out, and Spidey sided with the pro-Registration Iron Man…before he flip-flopped and joined up with Captain America’s anti-Registration side. He’s currently on the run with the few remaining members of the New Avengers, the ones who haven’t registered or been killed. But that’s more out of necessity than Spidey’s willingness to be part of a team. I think he’s still smarting from the very first issue of “The Amazing Spider-Man” when he tried to join the Fantastic Four and they snubbed him.
Producer Laura Ziskin has announced that the fourth “Spider-Man” movie should hit theaters in May of 2011. That’s the same summer Marvel Studios has earmarked for their “Captain America” and “Avengers” films to drop. Now here’s where things get confusing. Marvel Studios doesn’t produce the “Spider-Man” movies in-house, like they did with “Iron Man” and “The Incredible Hulk.” Sony Pictures holds the rights to the “Spider-Man” franchise. And although Spider-Man and Iron Man are both characters published by Marvel Comics, it’s unlikely that their movie counterparts — whose rights are owned by two separate companies — will have any screen time together in the upcoming “Avengers” film.
So maybe it’s a good thing that Spider-Man’s a bit of a lone wolf. He’s not like Wolverine is to the X-Men. Non-readers might be confused about Spidey’s absense from the ranks of the “Avengers” when the movie opens, but studio chiefs are not rabid fanboys. Even if Spider-Man were a prominent member of the Avengers, I doubt Sony would loan him out to another studio for a team-up film.
When Warner Bros. was trying to get a “Justice League” movie ramped up before the WGA strike, they were planning on recasting the roles of Superman and Batman. This is the same studio that has the rights to the Justice League and Superman and Batman, not to mention three picture deals with Brandon Routh and Christian Bale, who play Superman and Batman, respectively.
To understand how things work in the entertainment business, you have to remove your brain from your head, kick it around on the floor for awhile then put it back in your skull upside-down and backwards. It’s amazing that movies get made at all, considering how stunningly idiotic the decision makers can be.
At any rate, when Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury is picking his Avengers team, he can only draft members that are part of Marvel Studios’ in-house projects. That includes Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, Ant-Man and Captain America. Spider-Man’s unfortunately the unpopular kid on the block who won’t get picked. But that’s the old Parker luck for you.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
23
George Carlin: 1937 – 2008
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I remember when I was 12 or 13, I taped a George Carlin special on HBO during one of their free preview weekends. We didn’t have pay cable when I was a teenager. The stand-ups I mostly saw were the toothless variety on “A&E’s An Evening at the Improv.” But I still loved stand-up comedy when I was a kid. I remember cooking up a game with my friends in which I pretended to be stand-up comedian. I got up on their porch, and holding a cylindrical block like a microphone, I made jokes about a wife I didn’t have and rattled off bits of observational humor about the other kids in the neighborhood while my friends stared at me blankly. We never played that game again. But if I’d ripped off George Carlin’s routine from his hour-long “Jammin’ in New York” HBO special, I’m sure it would’ve gone over better.
I must’ve watched that special a hundred times. In it, he riffs on the then-recent Persian Gulf War (“It’s the first war we ever had that was on every channel, plus cable.”), the prefix “pre,” a magazine called “Walking,” getting caught talking to yourself and airline travel. Airline travel’s a common theme among comics, but Carlin made it his own: “About this time, someone is telling you to get on the plane. ‘Get on the plane. Get on the plane.’ I say, ‘F*** you, I’m getting IN the plane! IN the plane! Let Evil Knievel get ON the plane! I’ll be in here with you folks in uniform! There seems to be less WIND in here!’”
Carlin was a comedian known for his bad language, having rattled off the “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television” early in his career, but his gift for deconstructing the English language is what elevated him above comics who just spout obscenities for effect. He provided insight beyond the simple, “Do you ever notice…?” banality so many stand-ups have built their sitcom careers upon.
With Carlin’s passing, now all my favorites of the form are gone. He’s joined the other greats — Rodney Dangerfield, Richard Pryor, Sam Kinison, Bill Hicks and Andy Kaufman — but left a wealth of performance material that will never seem too dated, too out-of-step. I could watch or listen to any one of his performances a hundred times more and find it just as funny. He was always ahead of his time, operating from a different plane of reality; you still can’t say those seven words on TV. With that in mind, I’m not sure if we’ll probably never make it to the same plane that Carlin was on…or in.
May 12th , 1937 – June 22nd, 2008
-Brad Lohan
Jun
22
So I went to the movies this afternoon to give “The Incredible Hulk” another shot at impressing me, but before the film began, I had to sit through a dippy commercial for Coca-Cola, the one with political pundits James Carville and Bill Frist. Have you seen this unholy nightmare? If not, let me explain. See, at the beginning of the commercial, they’re bickering with one another on some talking head show. Then they both say the same thing at the same time. Frist calls, “Jinx!” and for some reason, they go on a Coke-fueled tour around Washington, D.C.
I hate this commercial. I hate that I’ve seen it enough times that I can describe it in detail. I hate going to the movies and having to sit through commercials on top of being annoyed by people sending text messages and saying stupid things to their companions.
Now I understand that it’s expensive to own and operate a movie house. When I was working at the Regal Cinemas in college (“The ass-end of the entertainment business,” I lovingly referred to it at the time), I remember my boss told me once that the movie studios demand a ginormous percentage of the opening weekend box office take. That percentage shrinks in the weekends that follow. Movies with “legs” — ones that play longer than a month, like “Juno” or “Little Miss Sunshine” — are actually more profitable for theater chains than those that open big and die out quickly.
But studios don’t care if their movies are making money for the theater chains. Those same movie houses need to keep making room for the fusillade of more flickershows. More films with more huge openings means more money for the studios. Paramount’s put out four movies in less than two months: “Iron Man,” “Indiana Jones,”"Kung Fu Panda” and “The Love Guru.” That’s just one studio.
And so, now I’ve got to watch James Carville and Bill Frist doing Coke every time I catch a flick. Can I just add that as a registered Democrat, I disavow James Carville as a representative of the party with which I am affiliated? I’ve always thought he was a sneering little creepazoid. If anyone could turn me on to Pepsi, it’s that dome-headed weasel and this ad campaign.
At any rate, movie chains are desperate to eke out a profit any way they can. It sure as hell isn’t from summer blockbusters that usually have a dropoff of 50% or more at the box office in their second weekend. That’s why concession prices are so steep, and no, the zit-faced goofus behind the counter isn’t getting a piece of the action. He makes less an hour than you spent on your ticket. I think that in unadjusted dollars, I was making a little north of $5/hour when I was at Regal. So yeah, movie chains pay their employees bupkiss to help with their bottom line. Remember that when you’re needlessly being a jerkstore to one for not having in stock whatever esoteric brand of candy you like.
There are two ArcLight Cinemas in the L.A. area — one in Hollywood and another in the Valley. They’re a little pricier than AMC or Landmark. Tickets hover around $13 or $14. My matinee ticket for “Hulk” this afternoon was less than half of that. But the ArcLight has better picture and sound quality than most venues. Even when I saw “The Aviator” on Christmas day and the film broke about midway through, it looked and sounded phenominal while breaking. What I like best about the ArcLight is that they don’t show commercials before movies. On top of that, they only show four trailers — sometimes just one or two. By the time the actual movie begins, you haven’t forgotten whatever it is you came to see.
But I still have a soft spot for the theater chains. Even though I hate the commercials, there’s just something about being in a dimly-lit auditorium. I can’t replicate that at home, not on my 27″ analog TV with a PS2 for playing DVDs. Personally I prefer the older venues, theaters that have been around for decades, not the newer ones with stadium seating for all the dwarfs who didn’t eat their vegetables. I love movie houses with some history to them and restrooms with the sharp cherry-flavored smell of a half-dozen urinal cakes. I like to imagine myself being in the same auditorium that’s shown hundreds — thousands — of great movies over the years…especially before James Carville and Bill Frist got turned on to Coke.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
21
Actors’ Gang: “1984″
Filed Under Books, Theatre | Leave a Comment
I don’t see enough plays. A few years ago, I used to go all the time. There are so many great theatres in and around the L.A.-area. I prefer the smaller venues. The ticket prices are a tad steeper than a movie — usually around $15 – $18 — but you’re pretty much guaranteed solid performances across the board and maybe a famous face or two.
This afternoon, I went to see a stage production of “1984″ at the Redcat in Downtown L.A.
I’d somehow managed to get through high school without having read George Orwell’s novel. Only last year did I get around to finally reading it and loved every prescient page. Shortly after, I tracked down the out-of-print DVD of the film, starring John Hurt and Richard Burton and Suzannah Hamilton’s naughty bits. I found the movie entertaining, but a fairly dry and straightforward adaptation. The trouble with realizing the book on film is that so much of Winston Smith’s conflict is internal. He spends a lot of his time reading and writing, somewhat boring activities on film. But all the sex and torture scenes manage to spice things up a bit.
The stageplay, directed by Tim Robbins, retains the spirit of the novel, but strips everything down to one location — a holding cell in the bowels of the Ministry of Love where Smith stands accused of his numerous thoughtcrimes. Shaved bald, looking half-starved and wearing blood-stained undergarments, the actor portraying Smith is shackled to the floor and harangued by four party members as well as the booming, omnipresent voice of Big Brother. Passages from his diary are read back to him and key scenes from the novel are reenacted. Ultimately, Smith is hauled into room 101 and tortured further by O’Brien, where he learns that two plus two equals five and to stop worrying and love Big Brother.
The stage has its own set of limitations, but unlike film, allows for the audience to use their imagination to a greater degree. I was sort of disappointed that all the action was limited to the holding cell. I would’ve liked the structure of the novel to have remained in place and more locations to have been used: Winston’s apartment, his cubicle at the Ministry of Truth, the room in the Prole district where he and Julia meet in secret, O’Brien’s apartment, etc. The same backdrop of the holding cell could’ve remained part of the background (thematically it would’ve worked brilliantly), but a few tables and chairs and the audience’s imagination could’ve gone a long way in building a larger world.
With the story being described more or less in series of flashbacks, the conflict doesn’t necessarily rise and the character beats seem much more anecdotal. Stretching out Smith’s interrogation over two hours is also a bit exhausting with all the yelling and screaming and electrocuting that’s going on.
Robbins does bring a few contemporary touches to the production. The party members are wearing Oceania lapel pins, and the words “terrorist” and “homeland” find their way into the script several times. Yet I’m surprised Smith wasn’t wearing an orange jumpsuit, and I guess waterboarding was too messy. Despite my nitpicks, I did in fact enjoy the stage version of “1984.” You could say I had a plus-good time taking in a little theatre this weekend.
-Brad Lohan
Jun
19
Hot or Bot: The Mating Habits of Transformers
Filed Under Blockbusters, Movies, TV, Toys | 1 Comment
In “Transformers: The Movie” — the animated one from 1986, not last summer’s live-action ‘roided up bug-bot noise fest — several new characters are introduced, the film being set in the far-flung future world of 2005. Hot Rod, Kup, Ultra Magnus, Wheelie and Arcee are some of the fresh new faces among the ranks of the Autobots. It’s not established where these ‘bots came from exactly. I believe that the original batch of Transformers were created by the floating, egg-shaped, five-faced Quintessons. But among the noobs, Arcee is clearly a female Robot in Disguise. She’s voiced by veteran actress — and Jason victim in “Friday the 13th: Part VII” — Susan Blu; she has a slender waist, birthing hips, even a bustline; and she’s pink. Pink equals girl in cartoon shorthand.
All that being said, if Arcee is equipped with an approximation of the female form (right down to her lipstick), it begs the question, “Can — uh — Transformers reproduce sexually?” Arcee appears to be part of the cast of Michael Bay’s upcoming “Transformers 2: First of the Fallen,” so now’s as good a time as any to explore this topic before every other mouth-breathing Internet blogger and Transfan pounces on it, too.
Assuming that the mechanics of the sexual act between male and female Transformers mirrors that of humans’, what sort of ‘bot-ily fluids are exchanged exactly? Blueprints, technical schematics, auto parts? Then within the womb of the female, is there a small factory that takes the design specs and accessories and customizes a baby ‘bot? Can I possibly wring another couple paragraphs out of this?
Or it could just be that Arcee’s a token female character, a half-hearted stab at luring in young female viewers. Maybe all the Transformers do simply roll right off the Quintessons’ assembly line, and Arcee’s lady parts are just for decoration, mooting volumes of hardcore Transformers fan-fic.
Whatever purpose Arcee’s naughty bits may serve, she’s treated as an equal among her fellow Autobots — all of whom have ginormous codpieces straight out of “A Clockwork Orange.” She’s portrayed as a capable warrior and one of the few characters in the ‘86 film that isn’t blown to Kingdom Come during a battle scene cut to hair metal. Maybe she’s capable of carrying Optimus Prime’s baby, but Arcee’s not built for fitting into a traditional gender role.
-Brad Lohan