Archive for the ‘Sgt. Angle's Cinegasms’ Category

82nd Oscar Telecast: Sgt. Angle’s Angles

Tuesday, March 9th, 2010

Sgt. Angle Reporting for Duty!

The Oscar telecast is over, which means it’s time for people to remark freely on all things Hurt Locker and Avatar for the next few minutes, and hopefully a Basterd or two will appear.….

Got that out of your system? Good. As your Sgt., I feel it is my duty to brief you on the telecast. There’s so much to discuss, but I’ll break my report into two sections: 1) The Awards — the worthy and the shocking; 2) The production — the useless and the touching. Sometimes, they blend.

AWARDS:

(By the way, I turned out to be spot-on with my predictions, even with Cinematography(Avatar?) )

  • HURT LOCKER MADNESS: Not a lot of surprises in the main categories. The Hurt Locker picked up SIX awards out of nine nominations, a strong haul for a film that barely made it into 600 theaters in America and was made for 1/250th (give or take) the budget of Avatar. Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing, and Film Editing. I don’t have a problem with most of these awards, but the editing of the intertwined storytelling in District 9 should have emerged victorious, and Inglourious Basterds showcased better writing than any film in recent memory. The Hurt Locker had the momentum of winning nearly every major award this season, and the “David” angle in the “David vs. Goliath” scenario that Avatar created. Happy or not, like it or not, The Hurt Locker is the victor. (Screenplay?!)

(*Note: I’ve gone on and read some other pundits and reporters write-ups who say that Hurt Locker will be forgotten ten, twenty years from now, but that Avatar will be the one film remembered. To them I say…okay. When Annie Hall beat Star Wars in the 70s, people were saying the same thing; when Forrest Gump beat Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption, people, again, were saying the same thing. And look how well the “losers” have withstood the test of time. But we’re not talking about twenty years from now, we’re talking about NOW — or, to be more specific, last year.*)

On to other awards and items of interest…

All acting awards were predictable and mostly worthy. Kudos to Sandra Bullock, who won for a mediocre role in a less than mediocre movie, but who gains “classy points” because she picked up her Razzy Award the night before the Oscars (the Golden Razzies, for those uninitiated, are handed out every year for the “worst in film.”) It’s her sense of humor…that’s why they like her.

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Fisher Stevens has an Oscar. Let that marinate.

Fisher’s Oscar: 20 years in the making.

Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire surprisingly beat Up in the Air for longest unnecessary title Best Screenplay. Also defeated:  District 9. I like how Geoffrey Fletcher’s reaction was honest-to-God shock. That’s how you accept an award.

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Someone needs to explain, and I mean right now, how Avatar wins for Best Cinematography.…I’ll wait.

It’s a shame that District 9’s visual effects achievements got overshadowed by Avatar, but what can you do?

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THE PRODUCTION:

  • Hosts: Twice the hosts, twice the fun. You’re producing the Oscars, you decide to have TWO hosts this year: Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin. What do you do? Give them a semi-comical monologue and then pull out the magician’s hat and make them disappear for the rest of the show. Seriously, were it not for an occasional quip by Martin when introducing a presenter, I wouldn’t have known the show had a host this year, let alone two of them.

(Watch their monologue here.)

Angle’s Angle: More screen time for any host, one or two!

  • CONSTANT CONTACT: Meryl Streep and George Clooney were the two major cutaways all evening, a fact recognized by Clooney when he waved the camera away at one point.

Angle’s Angle: I appreciate the cutaway to an audience member as much as the next person, but give us some variety, give us some change. I don’t want to see Clooney wave us away, but I also don’t want to watch him watching the show for three hours.

  • JOHN HUGHES TRIBUTE: The class of the simple introduction by Molly Ringwald and Matthew Broderick became lopsided and dull when, after the montage of Hughes’ classic scenes, members of the Brat Pack appeared on stage to say one thing each…and then walk away awkwardly like high school kids at a dance.

Angle’s Angle: Bring out the Pack first, then the clip reel. Move it right along.

  • VISUALS: Best Cinematography Award is presented…without images or clips of the nominees. Best Actor/Actress awards are presented as follows: a brief montage of all nominees’ performances, five other actors talk up each nominee for not only acting well but being great people, then the presenter comes out, the presenter lists the nominees, the winner comes up and gives a speech which absolutely obliterates the :45 second rule. Total time to present Best Actress: ten minutes. Total for Best Actor: ten minutes. Total time wasted: eight minutes.

Angle’s Angle: SHOW A PIECE OF THE FILM’S NOMINATED. In an awards show dedicated to the visual medium, WHERE WERE THE VISUALS?? The chat-party that was featured last night did many things, all of them negative: Wasted time, deflated the energy in the latter half of an already body-less show, disrespected actors in the supporting categories by not giving them the same treatment earlier, and disrespected the audience at home who tuned in to WATCH a show, not listen to people TALK about how great things were last year. Also disrespected Cinematographers, who GIVE US THE IMAGES that later become iconic.

  • BEST SONG: Perhaps one of the wisest decisions in this year’s Oscarcast, the show did away with live performances for each nominated song, instead crumbling the category into a simple presentation, featuring a ten-second clip of each song in the context of the movies they were in.

Angle’s Angle: Good choice.

  • BEST ORIGINAL SCORE: Nothing tops the appearance of Yo-Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman at the Academy Awards in 2001, playing themes from all nominees. Lasted five minutes, and was very moving. This year, as in a few years past, we got to sit through dancers interpreting all of the scores, no doubt from the mind of choreographer and co-producer of this year’s telecast Adam Shankman. Dances were okay, the music was moving.

Angle’s Angle: Shorten the dancing, lengthen the clips and celebrate the music. Itzhak returned four years ago for a solo run at this idea, but it wasn’t the same without Yo-Yo.…

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That’s all for this year’s Oscar Telecast! Despite my disagreements with the way the producers produced, and the way the awards are awarded…I will still tune in next year, and the year after that, and I’ll continue to watch the films, the winners and the “happy just to be nominated.” Because that’s a Sgt.‘s duty.

Permission to speak freely in the comments below: Granted.

Sgt. Angle

http://www.oscars.org/video/watch/82aa_monologue.htmlWat

82nd Academy Awards — Sgt. Angle’s Picks!

Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010

Sgt. Angle reporting for duty!

Shape up and sit down this coming Sunday, March 7, for the 82nd Academy Awards ceremony, live on every coast imaginable. I’ll tell you my predictions for who will emerge victorious in a bit, but first a quick briefing about this year’s ceremony — what makes it “different” from recent years, what makes it similar, and the moments you need to look out for the most.

This year’s creative team and show producers are Adam Shankman and Mustache Man Bill Mechanic. Shankman’s work as a director is known by you, though you may not realize it: The Wedding Planner, A Walk to Remember, Cheaper by the Dozen, Hairspray. He is also a well-respected choreographer in both movies and theater, and promises to bring a light-hearted sense of humor to the proceedings (he also hired Good Charlotte’s Joel Madden to DJ the party during commercial breaks…yeah).

Bill Mechanic is former Chairman/CEO at Fox Studios, who was allegedly fired because Fight Club “flopped.” He has since produced The New World and Coraline.

Bruce Valanche is a veteran writer of the Oscars’ patter. He is back.

The show is bouncing off of last year’s mildly successful broadcast, which had the highest ratings in three years and was produced by Dreamgirls director Bill Condon. Condon declined to return, wanting to focus on his upcoming projects. Maybe it’s a good thing, but his decision could also prove fatal as Shankman and Mechanic are aiming to bring in the “younger crowd” by having the likes of Taylor Lautner, Kristen Stewart, Zac Efron and Miley Cyrus present a few awards.

Oscars are for closers.

The problem with the Academy’s aim for younger viewers is that the intentions are immediately contradicted in the choice of host — or, for this year, hosts — in Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin. Martin has hosted before, and Baldwin has seen a recent resurgence of popularity and exercising of his comedic chops on 30 Rock (an NBC program, you can be sure). Nevertheless, both are more familiar to an older crowd.

Rumors swirling in recent weeks have it that the Academy Board turned down the idea of Borat and Bruno star Sacha Baron Cohen as host of the Awards show, worrying that his brand of humor would somehow bring down the show’s pedigree. Because when you’re having the stars of Twilight and the non-acting-actors Zac Efron and Miley Cyrus present an award, you’re really turning up the talent factor.

For the record, Baron Cohen joins Tina Fey, Steve Carell, Ben Stiller, and Jason Bateman as presenters — all of whom are also potential hosts for future broadcasts.

There are other ways the producers are trying to bring in the audience this year — including an online vote to choose a designer for the outfit worn by the Award Escort — and these tactics only go on to prove that the Academy is now less concerned about actually honoring the best in the industry than they are about scoring ratings for the broadcast. Here’s hoping they don’t repeat the Round Robin of Super Compliments which plagued last year’s awards (five people to TALK about a performance without SHOWING us why Penelope Cruz deserved to win, or Heath Ledger, etc. This is a VISUAL MEDIUM!!!!!) Seriously. It took about 4 minutes to present each acting category, and there was nary a clip to show us why.…

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But I digress.

On to the predictions!

You can get a full look at the nominees here. I will only cover a few select categories below, in the interest of space and time. Feel free to chat back below and tell me who you think should win. I want a full briefing on your reasons.

1. Best Actor: Jeff Bridges.

  • Jeff Bridges in “Crazy Heart”
  • George Clooney in “Up in the Air”
  • Colin Firth in “A Single Man”
  • Morgan Freeman in “Invictus”
  • Jeremy Renner in “The Hurt Locker”

Dark Horse: Jeremy Renner — An adrenaline junkie who diffuses bombs in Iraq, tuned perfectly to the material and setting, one with his environment.

2. Best Actress: Sandra Bullock

  • Sandra Bullock in “The Blind Side”
  • Helen Mirren in “The Last Station”
  • Carey Mulligan in “An Education”
  • Gabourey Sidibe in “Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire”
  • Meryl Streep in “Julie & Julia”

Dark Horse: Helen Mirren — up against two rookies and Meryl Streep, who now gets a nomination because she woke up in the morning, Mirren has the strongest shot against the inexplicable front-runner that is Sandra Bullock.

(**Note that I won’t go into the supporting categories. If Christoph Waltz and Mo’Nique do not win — for Inglourious Basterds and Precious, respectively — then I will eat my boots.**)

3. Best Animated Feature: UP. Up actually has a strong chance of winning best picture, but enough Academy members will still vote for it here. Secret of the Kells is the nominee out of nowhere, here, a little film that has yet to be released wide in the U.S.A. You can find the trailer here.

  • “Coraline” Henry Selick
  • “Fantastic Mr. Fox” Wes Anderson
  • “The Princess and the Frog” John Musker and Ron Clements
  • “The Secret of Kells” Tomm Moore
  • “Up” Pete Docter

Dark Horse: Fantastic Mr. Fox. As amazing as Coraline looked, the throwback style of Wes Anderson’s Fox is enough to impress even the most adamant Pixar fan.

4. Cinematography: Though Inglourious Basterds featured some of the best camera work in recent memory, Avatar’s pioneering new 3D technology and dedication to world creation gives it the advantage here.

  • “Avatar” Mauro Fiore
  • “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” Bruno Delbonnel
  • “The Hurt Locker” Barry Ackroyd
  • “Inglourious Basterds” Robert Richardson
  • “The White Ribbon” Christian Berger

Dark Horse: Inglourious Basterds. Because there’s never a Tarantino film that fails to show you something unique.

Bigelow with her DGA Award.

5. Best Director: Bigelow all the way. She has the momentum, the DGA award, and The Hurt Locker is a strong film because of its’ direction more than anything else. Cameron certainly proves that dedication can make anything beautiful, but it’s not enough in a year where Bigelow can become the first woman to receive this Oscar. Standing ovations abound.

  • “Avatar” James Cameron
  • “The Hurt Locker” Kathryn Bigelow
  • “Inglourious Basterds” Quentin Tarantino
  • “Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire” Lee Daniels
  • “Up in the Air” Jason Reitman

Dark Horse: Tarantino. In a weird way, voters might cancel each other out in the duel between Cameron and Bigelow. Tarantino could emerge the deserving victor.

6. Best Picture: The Hurt Locker. It currently has the momentum, and voters may feel that Avatar’s technical achievements greatly outweigh any overall story or feeling in Cameron’s opus.

  • “Avatar”
  • “The Blind Side”
  • “District 9”
  • “An Education”
  • “The Hurt Locker”
  • “Inglourious Basterds”
  • “Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire”
  • “A Serious Man”
  • “Up”
  • “Up in the Air”

Dark Horse: Up. Seriously. Precious is too bleak and lost steam in the recent campaigns. Up in the Air is highly regarded, yet is recognized as a manufactured film (made for awards), A Serious Man is a nod to the respected Coen Bros., An Education is similar to Up in the Air in its’ intentions, District 9 remains a genre pick, though its’ presence here is definitely worth something, and I’m still under the belief that The Blind Side is the result of a huge practical joke. Inglourious Basterds re-wrote WWII history, and, though it’s Tarantino’s best since Pulp Fiction, it hasn’t got the regard that Hurt Locker does. Up, being only the second animated film nominated for Best Picture in history (first was Beauty and the Beast) is very well-respected, very entertaining, and people most remember the first ten minutes as pure genius storytelling in pictures — no dialogue needed!

Enjoy the show, and until next time,

You are dismissed!

Sgt. Angle

TVgasm. What to watch.

Saturday, February 27th, 2010

Sgt. Angle Reporting for Duty!

Recent television news has sparked my interest in spreading my own preferred programming. Pilot news: Shit My Dad (William Shatner) Says based on a Twitter feed (as I wrote about a while back), Kathryn Bigelow directing the pilot “The Miraculous Year,” a drama revolving around a New York family as seen by a charismatic Broadway composer, and Frank Darabont’s adaptation of the comic “The Walking Dead”.

Darabont and Bigelow have directed television before — he an episode of “The Shield” and the pilot for the short-lived and fun Jeff Goldblum detective show “Raines”, she a few episodes of the great “Homicide: Life on the Street”. “The Walking Dead” will prove to be right up The Mist director’s alley in terms of character and microcosmic town environments over a grand scale, and the source material provides more than enough foundation for a series to last several years. Meanwhile, for Bigelow’s “The Miraculous Year”…not much to be said at the moment, other than it’s written by John Logan (Gladiator, The Aviator).

The recent rise of filmmakers transitioning to television should excite you, but in no way should it prevent you from enjoying great television from years past. Here are some TV shows that, if still on the air you need to get addicted to, and if no longer on the air then you should speed watch DVD box sets with no remorse.

Streets of Baltimore never felt so real.

1. “The Wire” — Creator David Simon wrote “The Wire” as a love song to his hometown of Baltimore, and like any great love song, the meat is in the heart of the series, the incredible cases, the layered and complicated stories, and the diverse plots which converge into one stream at the end of each season. Season one is a detective story, on the trail of an inner city drug kingpin who evades capture while claiming territory, and the pawns who are the drug dealers. Season two brings us a virtually all-new cast as we head to the port of Baltimore — where all the drugs come in. Each character’s tale is gripping, from the detectives and their murder cases, to the police commissioner’s ongoing political strife; to a young mayoral candidate and his political aspirations, to a school classroom’s deterioration in the face of the drug world. All is not well in Baltimore. But, as the threatening rogue Omar would say, “It’s all in the game.”

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In the game of television, “The Wire” is proof of the power that television can hold, and the educational value of watching something you love fall apart. Too bad the audience never grew too large, but perhaps that was a blessing to those of us who watched all five seasons on the edge of our seats. From Variety: “Whatever its commercial fate, however, “The Wire” has secured its place as one of the most demanding and thought-provoking series ever to grace television”

Sorkin's Finest.

2. Sportsnight — For anyone who didn’t have a chance in the 90s to catch hold of Aaron Sorkin’s A Few Good Men or The American President, “Sportsnight” came along and wiped the floor clean for all television sitcoms of the future. It’s too bad that converging elements brought out the hook all too soon for this gem of a show. Here’s the stage as it was set: The behind-the-scenes relationships and happenings of a late night sports news show a la ESPN’s Sportscenter. A strong female lead producer (Felicity Huffman), two charming yet arrogant sportscasters (Peter Krause and Josh Charles), the young rookie (Joshua Molina) and the sage, wise protector of his staff (Robert Guillaume). Directed by the great Thomas Schlamme, “Sportsnight” was the first of its’ kind to have a complete, fully operational set built on a soundstage — all four walls. This meant the camera can go anywhere it pleases, and because it was set behind-the-scenes ON a soundstage, the camera could film a lighting crew or a boom op and it would all be a piece of the scenery.

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Steadicam chews up the halls as characters walk and talk through 50-page scripts reading Sorkin’s breakneck dialogue. He gave an interview in which he stated that he sold the pilot before writing the script, and wrote it the day before he was to pitch it. Of course, it sold at the same time as “The West Wing,” a pilot script that was once considered the best pilot ever written in Hollywood. After season one fazed out the network-imposed laugh-track and shifting time-slots, Sorkin split his weeks — and his brain — between “Sportsnight’”s comedy and “The West Wing’”s social relevance. Writing both shows each week, ABC decided to suck all the air out of “Sportsnight” because of low-ratings and expenses. Were it not for “Sportsnight“‘s innovative set design and directing, single-camera techniques, etc., perhaps we wouldn’t currently have “The Office”, “Arrested Development”, or any number of other single-camera comedies on the air now.

3. Deadwood — David Milch is one of those creators who won’t stop, and doesn’t seem to care that his brake lines have been cut and he’s barreling at us at 100 MPH’s. And that’s just what makes for great television. Set in the late 19th Century US Midwest, Deadwood was a real town with real characters — including the grungy, manipulative, and perhaps mad Al Swearengen (Ian McShane) — that David Milch turned into a dirty place where dreams die quick, guns are drawn quicker, and saloons become meeting rooms as much as they are festering dens of thieves.

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HBO canceled the series all too early, a decision which Milch was devastated by, but understands. Everything has an end, and even episodes by themselves must come to a conclusion. But whatever we’ve missed in the deleted season four we can make up for by watching Wild Bill meet Swearengen, and Calamity Jane’s grief in a bottle over and over again.

4. Breaking Bad — Perhaps one of the greatest first seasons in television in the past twenty years, Breaking Bad started off with a terrific pilot episode and concluded its’ first season in just seven episodes, all taking place over just three weeks in the timeline of chemistry teacher Walter White (Bryan Cranston), who says so much by doing much and saying little (fathom that!). Walter is already struggling to support his wife and teenage son, taking on a night job to wash cars in his New Mexico town. After getting diagnosed with cancer, Walter doesn’t want to break the news — or the costs -  to his wife, and joins his brother-in-law on a drug bust. The suspect, a meth dealer, escapes, but Walter recognizes his former student’s car, and comes up with a proposition: Walter cooks, Jesse (Aaron Paul) deals, and they keep doing so until Walter can save up enough for his family after he dies. Walter uses his insanely brilliant skills as a chemist to cook the finest, purest form of meth that the southwestern US has seen — bringing him unwanted noteriety in the criminal world, a slew of dealers to contend with over territory, and the heat of the DEA — including his brother-in-law.

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And that’s just the first two episodes. “Breaking Bad” hands you, the viewer, in a meth-covered glass dish, the chance to watch a good man go bad — for good reason. No matter how much you fight it, you want Walter to win. He’s a character built out of failure and circumstance, out of devotion to his family rather than his passions. Is it too late to make things up for your past mistakes, even if it means breaking the law? Season three begins in March…catch up now, and catch on. “Breaking Bad” airs on AMC.

5. Friday Night Lights — I know, who cares enough about high school football to want to watch a show about it? What’s in it for me? Well, if you’re a soldier like I am, then you know how discipline and dedication play into all aspects of your breathing existence we’ll call life. That’s what :Friday Night Lights” is about. It’s not about the game, it’s about the in between — those moments alone when you think you have failed, the moments you have with your family you wish you could get back, those moments when you think you’re in love and happy forever only to discover that life finds a way to step in. “Friday Night Lights” focuses on the Texas town of Dillon and the high school football team, the players, the coach and his family, and the town citizens who love nothing more than watching their team play and win. But it’s more than that. It’s about the people behind the players, the fans, and the coaches.

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Season four just wrapped up on the DirectTV channel a few weeks ago, and over the last few years, the show has tackled the following topics: love, death, birth, divorce, affairs, paralysis, abortion, religion, steroids, racism, one-night-stands, broken promises, deteriorating friendships, reconciliation, and gangland shootings. That’s just on the surface. Featuring one of the top (dare I say) three actors on television today as Coach Taylor, Kyle Chandler, Friday Night Lights should not be missed.

6. Battlestar Galactica. I don’t need to mention this modern masterpiece of a show, because if you haven’t heard of it by now, you’re clearly not of this planet. It’s not just a science fiction program. This is a genius work of art, a steady, worthy contribution to the history of television, and one of the best shows you will see, as a fan of sci-fi, solid acting, strong characters, and good television. Need I say more? See below for my final argument: Edward. James. Olmos.

You are dismissed!

Sgt. Angle

Film Creator Spotlight: Rick Baker

Tuesday, February 16th, 2010

Sgt. Angle Reporting for Duty!

Tighten up your uniforms and strap into your Humvees, soldiers. We’re gonna get ourselves into the makeup chair today and have our faces remodeled while our minds are blown by the work of Special Makeup Effects mastermind Rick Baker.

You’ve seen him on the big screen before, much the same way you’ve seen John Williams or James Cameron. Rick Baker has given us creatures to be scared of, and faces to be scared for. From Men in Black to Harry and the Hendersons, from The Wolfman to An American Werewolf in London, Rick Baker has created the most memorable, realistic, and innovative cinematic sequences and looks of the last thirty years. He stands on the shoulders of Jack Pierce (The Wolfman, the original) and Dick Smith (The Godfather, The Exorcist) , and continues the tradition of great movie makeup.

In high school, Baker changed his life goal from wanting to be a doctor to wanting to do makeup for movies. His parents were luckily supportive, and Halloween became the “Rick Baker Holiday” in the neighborhood. But for Rick, Halloween lasted all year long. Naturally, any makeup guy is going to have a “blood and guts” period as a teenager, but this quickly came to an end for Baker when he painted his friend with third-degree burns, and the kid’s father became hysterical at the sight.

Later, Baker located Dick Smith in New York City. He wrote Smith a letter and included photos of his work. Smith took the young Baker under his wing, just as he was finishing up his latest picture, Little Big Man, with Dustin Hoffman. Throughout the 70s, Baker refined his craft on B-movies and even a couple of A-listers, including some uncredited work on The Exorcist, and second unit effects on Star Wars.

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In 1981, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences finally decided to add a Best Makeup Award for the Oscars. The first winner in this category was Rick Baker, for his incredible human to wolf transition design in An American Werewolf in London — clearly the new bar set for human-creature effects work of the last thirty years in filmmaking.

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Baker worked several times with Michael Jackson, most notably on the greatest music video of all time (sorry, Kanye), Thriller (also directed by American Werewolf’s Jon Landis). Later came Harry and the Hendersons, featuring a family friendly Ron Perlman Bigfoot design, and bringing Baker his second Oscar for Best Makeup.

Hellboy and the Hendersons.

With the 1990s came three more Oscars for Baker — for classic monster makeup and aging prosthetics to make Martin Landau the unforgettable Bela Lugosi in Ed Wood, for redefining a classic film, for redefining Eddie Murphy’s career in The Nutty Professor, and for alien-to-human transitions in Men in Black.

But along with these finer achievements came some minor work, yet no less considerable on any makeup artist’s resume: Gorillas in the Mist, The Rocketeer, Coming to America, Wolf, and even Batman Forever. He won his sixth and record-holding Makeup Effects Oscar for green-ifying Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and was able to bring the Oscars to a new low by getting nominated for his makeup work on Norbit. He visualized the imagination of Guillermo del Toro in Hellboy, scared countless Americans out of their chairs with The Ring and The Ring Two, and made Robert Downey, Jr. into a funny Eddie Murphy black man in Tropic Thunder.

Wasn't there a Michael Jackson song about this, too?

Most recently, Rick Baker was able to pay homage and put his own stamp to the original makeup work of Jack Pierce’s classic design of The Wolfman. Luckily, Benicio del Toro is a very hairy man, which no doubt made Rick Baker’s job that much easier. Asked why he would revisit werewolves despite having jumpstarted the genre in American Werewolf in London, Baker said: “It’s The Wolfman. It’s one of the films that made me the strange man I am today. I could do nothing but horror movies and be happy. I hate what’s become of them, with all these slasher films, and any chance I can get to do an old-fashioned gothic horror movie, I’m going to take it.”

Del Toro, 2010; Chaney, 1941

In the same interview, Baker says his favorite monster-movie as a kid was actually Frankenstein. Unversal execs take note, because you have your monster-makeup-man right here. Steal him away before he is obligated to take on Norbit II. Seriously. Even Benicio del Toro threatened him…

No more Norbit!!!

At ease.

Sgt. Angle

Wrongfully Exposed Celluloid

Tuesday, February 9th, 2010

Sgt. Angle reporting for duty!

Last week, we got a taste of the worst of the worst, namely that the lamest movie to come around in a while is Legion, as declared by Mr. Wolff. This assertion was quickly followed up by Ben and his “Wasting Ink” blog about horrid comic book characters of the past.

Here, then, are wasted bits of celluloid. Keep in mind, when I say “wasted” in this context, I’m not saying that these movies should be lined up against a brick wall and that I order for each to be hit with a flamethrower. I’m simply saying that there are betters ways to expose film when on these film sets than the resulting footage. Also, I’m avoiding the trap of choosing entire films and shoving them into this column, essentially creating a crappy movies list. Instead, I’m aiming for different elements of different films — an actor that was just entirely wrong for the part, and over-written script for an otherwise decent director, or an entirely over-the-top editing style that would drive an epileptic sane.

The poster for childhood nightmares across America.

Jackdirector, Francis Ford Coppola. What was he thinking? Here we have one of the most legendary directors of all time, king of the 70s Golden Age of American Cinema (Spielberg and Lucas hold the trophy for biggest blockbusters, and ushered in a new era, but the art of the decade came from Coppola), fell into a trap of Hollywood greed by directing this Robin Williams starring flop about a ten year old boy who ages four times as fast as regular people, and thus is cursed to resemble Robin Williams. The movie is sappy, ridiculous, and a childish waste of talent (Diane Lane…oh no), veering into typical childish slapstick humor with no other point than to offer kids a casual chuckle, rather than explore the deeper question of when we learn to grow up as people. One wonders if Coppola took an Ambien and slept throughout production and simply woke up to the resulting footage amidst a pile of Williams’ chest hair. Indeed, Jack seemed to be a detour somehow necessary for Coppola to bankroll his next film, The Rainmaker, starring Matt Damon.

Reshoots: Get Robin Williams out of it, and bring in a more serious actor who might be able to practice comedic chops, not the other way around. Also, should’ve brought in a writer with a bit of grace in handling deeper thematic issues — John Sayles, for instance.

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The Lawnmower Man — Unreasonable adaptation. There are certain adaptations of stories, books, and plays which are utterly unacceptable and not necessary. In this case, it happened to Stephen King’s short story “The Lawnmower Man,” the creepy short story about a dude who hires a mysterious lawnmowing company, and discovers a terrifying truth about the company’s owner — who turns out to be a satyr working for Pan, and who devours cut grass while nude and kills his client before the truth can get out. The movie, starring ‘James Bond’ Pierce Brosnan, is about a dude who uses a mentally retarded lawnmower for virtual reality experiments, only to watch the poor guy’s evil increase with his intelligence. The ridiculous adaptation was so bad that Stephen King sued to get his name off the final film. Take your rifles and blast a hole in this celluloid monster.

Reshoots: None. Change your damn title and be done with it. Keep Jeff Fahey, though.…

The heat is so on.

Beverly Hills Cop III - Director John Landis and Eddie Murphy. Again, the sound of silver suitcases opening with wads of cash attracts the talent who created “Thriller,” and one of the best comedians of the 1980s, to the end of the better parts of their careers. The film has pieces of comic gems — Judge Reinhold’s hilarious reign as the head of the JDOJSIOC (“The JGjo-josee”), the random George Lucas cameo — but as far as films that represent turning points for anyone in showbiz, BHCIII is that point for Eddie Murphy, when nearly every film that followed carried a lighter, fluffier style (other than, of course, Vampire in Brooklyn), and his raw combination of violence, humor, and relevance just exited stage left.

Reshoots: Fine, keep your Wonderworld amusement park. Now add some blood and violence, and get a director who is able to handle something other than campy, classical horror. I’m sorry, Landis. I love American Werewolf in London, but this sort of thing ain’t your bag. At least, not in the tradition of Axel Foley’s finest work.

Oh, snap! What decade are we in?!

The Good GermanGood idea, poor execution. Steven Soderbergh ventured into Post-WWII Vienna with his black and white homage to films like Casablanca a few years ago, and the results of his amalgam of talent and dedication to the craft took a turn for the worse around the moment when Tobey Maguire smacks Cate Blanchett in the face. The elements were all there: Using cameras and film from the era, hiring a great cinematographer who knows how to shoot black and white (Steven Soderbergh), good editing (Steven Soderbergh…again), a classic score (Thomas Newman), a smart script (Paul Attanasio). The problem is the dense story mishandled by great actors who, other than George Clooney, could not understand the basis of the filmmaker’s intentions. That, and the fact that Tobey Maguire was horribly miscast to play an enraged soldier who beats his girlfriend and screams bloody murder at any other soldier who chose today to breathe. Too small, and too soon for TM to try on the shoes of the villain. Pick something smaller, more unique (certainly not this past year’s generic Brothers).

Reshoots: How about recasting? How about re-writing so the plot is not as dense, and how about casting someone other than Tobey Maguire and Cate Blanchett? Cate lacks chemistry with any of her male counterparts in this one.

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Dracula: Dead and Loving It - Mel Brooks. If you’re a good soldier,  you grant Mel Brooks your undivided attention from his early days as a performer on “The New Steve Allen Show” as the 2000 year old man, up through and including Robin Hood: Men in Tights. That being said, Spaceballs represented the last great Brooks film, and also the beginning of the Brooks Decline in comedy. RH:MIT is saved not only by Cary Elwes’s English accent, but also bites with humor from Dave Chappelle and a clear comedic target, that being the overuse of classic characters and the resulting effect on the genre itself. With Dracula: Dead and Loving It, Brooks had the chance to exploit the melodramatic forces at play in the vampire genre, and to create a spoof of the soul-sucking nature of monster movies — just as Spaceballs mocked the science fiction blockbuster, and Blazing Saddles taught us that even the most classic of movie storytelling genres was fodder for more jokes than beans in a burrito. Leslie Nielsen couldn’t even save the Dracula spoof’s nightmare of a humorless script. In fact, the one laugh-out-loud moment is featured in the trailer: “She’s Nosferatu.” “She’s Italian?”

Reshoots: More Steven Weber, less Leslie Nielsen.

Stand at attention!

Date Movie - The death of Hollywood dignity. Perhaps a deeply troubled step-child, or third cousin, to Dracula: Dead and Loving It, Date Movie is the representative of the last 12 years of Hollywood spoofs, second generation knock-offs courtesy of Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer. Films such as Scary Movie 3 & 4, Meet the Spartans, Disaster Movie, Epic Movie. These “films” are loaded with slight references and brief moments of familiar, recent movies, trying to cram every ounce of pop culture in between the most bare-bones of familiar plots. Take a lesson from Young Frankenstein: Build your characters, and keep your references subtle. Or from Airplane: Load us up with SMART jokes in the subtle way, and hit us over the head with slapstick humor of the irrelevant kind. Don’t just rely on the casting of Alyson Hannigan in your lead to attract our confidence in your otherwise colorless, odorless product.

Reshoots: I think we could — nah, nevermind. Burn it. Eliminate the last six years of horrible, pop-culture spoofs, and maybe my platoon will learn to laugh again.

You are dismissed!

Sgt. Angle

Academy Award Nominations — Brief thoughts

Thursday, February 4th, 2010

Sgt. Angle reporting for duty!

Oscar nominations were announced this past Tuesday at 5:38 AM PST. Yours Truly wakes up at the late hour of 4:30 every day, so with my morning routine already in the bank, I decided to watch the chuckly Anne Hathaway and the what’s-his-face President of the Academy spout out the nominees in “top categories” for the awards. What defines a top category, in this instance, is the showiest titles, the big cheeses of actors, the “most important, flashiest bits” of the movie — the actors, the writers, the directors, the pictures themselves, and the foreigners. What you need to understand is that the Academy members — or, more precisely, the folks in charge of the Oscar Telecast — are more interested in generating buzz and viewership for the telecast than they are for honoring the latest-greatest contributions to the art form.

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I won’t ask you to forgive my foul-ish mood today regarding Oscars, and won’t even pretend to chalk it up to the fact that Mr. Wolff ate away at our regularly scheduled blog-time this week because of his timely chomp-up of the Grammy Awards. I can only ask you to read YUKI, the #3 BIRTH issue of MYTHOI, written by a fella named James Ninness, and worthy of every iris in the states to see and download.

Folks, lend me your ears, and your time, and I’ll tell you a little something about the missing piece of the Oscars, something that has left a void since 1952, and shall perhaps one day — through the genius and respect that is Martin Scorsese, or perhaps even from another writers’ strike — return to show us the way. I’m going to tell you about actual respect towards a craft, and how Television Killed the Triumph of Awards.

The Academy Awards are the oldest awards ceremony in the media. In 1929, the first Oscars were given to celebrate the excellence of film professionals in the years 1928 — 29. The awards show was conceived by Louis B. Mayer, head of MGM studios.  Key word there is “excellence” — not celebrate, but excellence. After the LA Times leaked the award winners in 1940, the names were thereafter sealed in an envelope and revealed only during the ceremony, which was first televised in 1953 with Bob Hope as Master of Ceremonies. It is perhaps the decision to televise the show which has brought the most criticisms to the awards themselves.

No longer are voters or Academy members interested in honoring timeless classics or films that will go on forever to be known as the greatest in the pantheon of the art of film in general. Tim Dirks, editor of AMC’s filmsite.org, has written of the Academy Awards, “Unfortunately, the critical worth, artistic vision, cultural influence, and innovative qualities of many films are not given the same voting weight. Especially since the 80s, moneymaking ‘formula-made’ blockbusters with glossy production values have often been crowd-pleasing titans (and Best Picture winners), but they haven’t necessarily been great films with depth or critical acclaim by any measure.”

Make no mistake about it, the Academy Awards are still the most prestigious award ever to win as a filmmaker. But you must be cautious when you win it, think about what you’ve done to deserve it. Should you be given the award as a gift because of your family relations (Sofia Coppola, “Lost in Translation” writer)? Or how about because the Academy forgot to honor you for a prior piece (Russell Crowe for “Gladiator” instead of “The Insider”)? What if you just had something important to say, despite your film being mediocre at best (“An Inconvenient Truth”)? The point is, because of the commercialization of the Oscars themselves, the awards and honors encapsulated by them have become less prestigious over the years, more about popularity or politics than actual excellence.

Twelve years ago, one of the best films of the 1990s (a fantastic decade for films, despite what anyone else says to you), “L.A. Confidential,” was virtually shut out at the Oscars by the Billion-Dollar-Baby “Titanic.” The monster that slipped on an iceberg offered smooth sailing into Awards History for James Cameron, and somehow captured hearts and minds of moviegoers across the US, and around the Globe — most notably, Academy members were swept up in the wave of apparent heaping praise for the film. And that became the problem. Advertising. Campaigning for an award that SHOULD be given on artistic merit and excellence in the craft, was instead doled out to those who could afford to buy it.

Enter Harvey Weinstein, Stage Right. In case you don’t recall, Weinstein was behind one of the greatest coups in Academy Awards history when he sold members on the idea that “Shakespeare in Love” offered a more historically and artistically brilliant film than “Saving Private Ryan” and “Life is Beautiful.” Even Spielberg stood backstage, holding his still warm Best Director Oscar, wondering how the mighty Miramax Man managed to flatten Ryan’s privates.

And lo, the Awards themselves were pushed back, from late March to late February, to hopefully collapse the campaign season and bring forth honorable films rather than wide wallet films. But that still wasn’t enough. Gone are they days when films released any time before May of the year (“Silence of the Lambs”) are even within radar of Academy members — or marketing wallets. This year, for instance, the only film to be nominated for Best Picture and released before June of 2009 was Disney-Pixar’s “Up.”

And that was released on May 29.

Look, I’ll still watch the Awards, and hey, if I could, I would go to them. But the thing about Awards is, once you start spreading them around, giving them to the moneybags rather than the talentbags, you start to lose sight of why they exist in the first place. You shouldn’t make movies to make money, and you shouldn’t make movies to win awards. You make movies to make a piece of Art, whether it’s a 3-hour character piece exploring the existence of love, or it’s a 3-hour action piece creating a new world, using new technology, and still somehow exploring the existence of love.

I’m as hard-assed as the next soldier, but when it comes to executing your job properly, I’m hoping you don’t spend the most money on the most expensive gun to hit the target; I want to see you hit that target with the cheapest man-made rifle you can find. That’s where real talent lies, and that’s where real inspiration comes from.

That’s just the type of soldier I wanna see on my set.

Let me know what your reactions are to this year’s awards nominations, and next week we’ll ramble on about celluloid history — the type that should disappear from history.

You are dismissed.

Sgt. Angle.

OPEN LETTER TO THE ACADEMY re: SAM ROCKWELL

Tuesday, January 26th, 2010

Sgt. Angle Reporting for Duty!

Dear Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Voting Members:

Consider this a filmmaker spotlight, as well as an open letter For Your Eyes Only (I’m talking to you, internet!). What follows is the case for Sam Rockwell’s nomination and eventual victory at the Academy Awards ceremony to take place on March 7, 2010, for excellence in filmmaking for the year 2009.

Over the last few weeks, countless awards shows (both live and taped, both televised and non-televised) have featured one of two actors receiving the award for best actor in a motion picture: Jeff Bridges, for his incredibly subtle and heartfelt, down-and-out country singer in “Crazy Heart”; and George Clooney’s introspective, reflective, and Oscar-engineered downsizing expert in “Up in the Air”. Both are very worthy gentleman, as are “The Hurt Locker”’s Jeremy Renner, Colin Firth in “A Single Man”, and (debatable) Morgan Freeman playing Nelson Mandela playing Morgan Freeman from “Invictus”.

And, just as any of these men are worthy, if not downright perfect, for the Oscar this year, one actor stands out above all the rest: Sam Rockwell. This guy.

straight outta your dreams.

No, I’m not talking about his stunning voiceover in G-Force. Nor do I mean to imply his Son-of-a-Deniro in “Everybody’s Fine.” I’m talking “Moon”.

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I must warn you, here and now, that there may well be SPOILERS ahead, however subtle. If you have not seen MOON already (how dare you, movie fans and filmmakers alike!), then you will have some of the plot and interactions ruined by the below comments. However, I will try to refrain from revealing anything past the halfway mark of the film.

Ready?

OK.

Taking from Roger Ebert’s fine review: “At some point in the future (we can’t nail down the story’s time frame), this station on the far side is manned by a single crew member, Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell). He’s working out the final days of a three-year contract and is close to cracking from loneliness. Talking to loved ones via video link doesn’t satisfy. The station is largely automated; it processes lunar rock to extract Helium-3, used to provide Earth with pollution-free power from nuclear fusion….

”The station is large and well-appointed, has entertainment resources and adequate supplies. Sam communicates frequently with the home office … and so does GERTY [the on board A.I. computer]. Sam doesn’t do any actual mining, but his human hands and brain are needed for repairs, maintenance and inspection. One day he’s outside checking up on something, and his lunar rover smashes up. He’s injured and awakens in the station’s medical facility. And that, I think, is all I need to say.”

Sgt. Angle again, here we go. Sam Rockwell plays Sam Bell as an exhausted, blue collar fella who is waiting for the last days of his contract to come to a close, but what he faces is a harsh wake up call, as he confronts himself in more ways than one and forces us, as film viewers and as human beings, to recognize our own faults and fears, our own desires as overshadowed pipe-dreams, and the very true, very real scenario that, however alone we might feel, we will always have to contend with ourselves.

As filmmaking is concerned, MOON is at an expert level. Made for roughly $5 Million, MOON is the debut film of director Duncan Jones (featured in last week’s Cinegasm), son of David Bowie and director of many small music videos. Jones knows how to shoot for cheap – and to shoot cheap well. He used miniatures and practical effects for the “outdoor” scenes on the moon, and intense planning and execution for the green screen / Sam-and-Sam scenes that showcase Rockwell’s ability to play off himself (aka play off of no one else). The resulting commitment of Jones to his source material and Sam Rockwell to the character, to the project as a whole, are worth the 2 hours, and worth the little Golden Man in March.

Sgt. Angle attended an early screening of MOON, at which Duncan Jones was present post-screening for a Q & A. At the time, he said that Kevin Spacey read the script and liked it, but was scared at the low-budget. Fearing cheesy effects, Spacey waited until the film was shot and edited. He then watched the film, and recorded all of his voiceover scenes in one day. The resulting voice for GERTY is cold, dry, yet somehow more touching than any of Sam’s personas.

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Likewise, the film’s look and feel, from the setting to the camera angles, are reminiscent of older Science Fiction films of the 70s and 80s, most notable Alien and 2001: A Space Odyssey: Modern rooms, soft, cushioned white and off-white walls, nothing shiny or spectacular. Just the way a space station should be. (*BONUS* Clint Mansell, of Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain, wrote the music for Moon!)

As part of the case for Sam Rockwell’s nomination for MOON, here’s a brief history of the actor:

In the 90s, Rockwell’s acting career gathered momentum with small roles on television and in movies (“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles”, for one). He starred in a few choice indie films, even one with a young (as in TEN) Mischa Barton called “Lawn Dogs.” Many recognize him as the killer “Wild Bill” in Stephen King’s “The Green Mile”, where a particular scene will make Moonpies forever undesirable across middle America.

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After a few more showy supporting parts (“Galaxy Quest”, “Charlie’s Angels”), Rockwell broke free critically with his role as The Gong Show host Chuck Barris in George Clooney’s “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind”. He bounced from this exceptional lead role directly into another critically acclaimed film, “Matchstick Men”, directed by Ridley Scott, and held his own against “the Head” known as Nicholas Cage.

What to do when you realize you have to make Ghostrider 2.

In “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford”, Sam played brother to the coward himself (Casey Affleck), disturbing, dark, brooding. In the world of critics and cinephiles, Sam Rockwell could be known as the poor man’s Christopher Walken – but take away the poor man, and add “new generation”. Just before MOON, Rockwell starred in the latest daptation of a Chuck Palahniuk novel, CHOKE, playing a sex addict who learns about his mysterious origins while fooling people into believing he’s choking, in order to make them feel better about their own existence.

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It should be noted that, according to Jon Favreau, Sam Rockwell was considered for the lead in “IRON MAN” before the studio finally caved and cast Robert Downey, Jr. Rockwell will star in the sequel as Justin Hammer, signing on for the role without reading the script or knowing anything about the character.

Surgery works wonders these days.

Sam Rockwell is a fine character actor with lead capabilities, a true independent hero who has mass appeal, is able to charm audiences with his offbeat style and wit. He’s a new form of Steve Buscemi, with a touch of Christopher Walken’s abilities, and a hint – just a hint – of Robert Downey, Jr.’s all around charm. A thrill to watch, anticipate, and observe, Sam Rockwell is truly the Best Actor of 2009.

Buy MOON here, and get thrown for a circular loop.

Until the next invasion…

Sgt. Angle

Golden Directors of 2009

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010

Sgt. Angle reporting for duty!

Welcome back from a glorious three-day tribute to MLK, Jr. Hope you’re rested and free from all that holds you down. Me, I’ve got a bone to pick with the Hollywood Foreign Press.

Anyone living under a rock may not be aware, but I expect the rest of you to be with me on this. The Golden Globe Awards played out live on the flopping fish known as the NBC network, and all was well until the end disaster, the hat trick of bizarre choices to carry home the shiny orb: Sandra Bullock for Best Actress Drama (The Blind Side), James Cameron as Best Director and for Best Picture (Avatar).

Now, Sandra Bullock is a fine lady, and in The Blind Side she shows off a bit more emotion than in her typical romcoms — but that’s because she’s starring in a picture that belongs on the Hallmark channel. But Carey Mulligan held more than just a smile and a coupla tears in An Education, more than enough to clean the floor with the Bullock of today or the Bullock of Demolition Man days.

Likewise, James Cameron more than executed his masterpiece, he delivered a pleasurable reel of unmatched visual grace from any such film this year or of the last decade. That being said, the story was choppy, some fight scenes were predictable, and there wasn’t much in the way of character growth or development. The Hollywood Foreign Press Association is known for running their own awards show for ratings and star-studded evenings, rather than true accolades. But sometimes you need to learn to draw the line between “chasing ratings” and “artistic integrity.” This is a line which the HFPA failed to even indulge on Sunday night.

As far as complete and utter film execution in the year 2009, here are the best choices for Directing in 2009, some nominated the other night, others just below any “common moviegoers’” radar:

Yes, this is really Kathryn Bigelow.

Kathryn Bigelow — The Hurt Locker. What this film lacks in arcs and A — Z storytelling, it makes up for in spades with the tension and editing of the bomb diffusion scenes. Cap on that the harsh performance of Jeremy Renner, and you’ve got a technical achievement to match wits with the best of earth, or Pandora.

Duncan Jones — Moon. A budget of $5 Million and a lunar landscape second only to our Moon itself, Duncan Jones’s feature debut features the best performance you won’t read about last year: Sam Rockwell. And yes, Duncan is David Bowie’s son.

Quentin Tarentino — Inglourious Basterds. War meets spaghetti Western meets the pop-culture infusion of Tarentino’s mind. No one can handle scene structure and the suspense of a long take like him, and it doesn’t hurt that he writes his own material, too.

The Coen Brothers — A Serious Man. Seriously, the Coens pull no punches in their bizarre slice-of-life story of a MidWest professor in the late-60s whose life unravels when his wife has an affair. Dark comedy ensues. A little lighter material for the Coens since No Country for Old Men (not counting the quirky Burn After Reading, of course).

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Wes Anderson — The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Stop motion animation done the way it hasn’t been done for sixty years, Anderson takes his sophisticated style to the world of Roald Dahl’s classic children’s story. He apparently took his voice actors out on location (out in the forest, in a sewer) to record their dialogue, which added to the sudden reality to talking animals.

Spike Jonze — Where the Wild Things Are. Overall a bit underwhelming, Jonze’s dedication to the source material and the hopefulness penetrating each scene should be enough to invoke that frog in the back of your throat feeling in any parent, or child. Plus the monsters are all invited to my next mission, wherein I invade another country to build forts out of trees, and a command post for future Angle Operations.

Soon we review the year’s writing accolades, wherein I breakdown the travesty that is the WGA (Writers Guild of America) and their omission of Inglourious Basterds from this year’s nominations (place taken by Avatar. Explain, good sirs).

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Signing off.

Sgt. Angle

January — Beer and a Movie Month

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010

Sgt. Angle reporting for duty!

Well rested and faith in humanity reassured by Mr. Wolff’s cunning attitude, I am back with a vengeance to encourage faithful readers and watchers of the night to take part in a tradition sweeping the cinemas of our nation, namely, beer and a movie month — January.

February is filled with lovey-dovey date movies, June — August is a hat trick of summer blockbusters, sex, violence, and popcorn munching, while the latter months of the year for American film-goers inspires creativity and intellectualism in the best of us, a sugar-coated safety net for the rest of us. January is typically relegated to a “month of dead weight” in movies, a time stuck between the glory of award-winning masterpieces (Avatar, Precious) and gobbledygook kid movies (Hotel for Dogs, Paul Blart: Mall Cop).

Two years ago, while on leave from a herpes-ridden war-torn state, I ventured into the wild-blue-mist of a cinema near me, complete with a six-pack of PBR (award-winning, no matter what century) and a mind raging for blood. I sat in a sold-out theater at a midnight showing of RAMBO, Stallone’s return to the character who could kill Rocky in a fist fight with the guns AKA arms. Sucking down can after can of PBR I realized, sure, I’m not supposed to be doing this, but Rambo shouldn’t be tearing a dude’s throat out with his bare hands. Let’s live a little.

2009 brought us Liam Neeson shooting old friends and kicking new enemies in the balls, and with him the fine tradition of Samuel Adams Winter Lager. Such sweet tastes on my tongue, and bitter regard for the human race.

This year, we have a few choices for Beer at the Movies January. So grab a six-pack and enjoy:

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The Book of Eli. Might be a bit depressing to be guzzling hops while watching an apocalyptic future, but the Hughes Brothers directed this film, their first since From Hell many year ago, so the visions within might just save your taste buds for the coming End of Days.

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Edge of Darkness. Mel Gibson is back as a Boston cop investigating the murder of his daughter. Hard-boiled kick-assery is ignited, as is can number two of your PBR six-pack.

I will accept the end of her world.

Legion. Paul Bettany, heavenly Bettany, is a priest who betrays church law to track down vampires who killed his niece…no, that’s not right. That’s actually the summary of his next film, PRIEST. Actually, in LEGION, Bettany drops down to earth as an archangel to save mankind from God’s wrath. Again, spray your foamy PBR can across the aisles along with the blood of old ladies.

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Youth in Revolt. How can you watch Michael Cera and not laugh a little inside, also feel awkward that you are laughing WITH Michael Cera instead of AT him? In YIR, Cera devises a plan with his alter ego to lose his virginity, because for teens in America there is no finer past-time. Other than swigging your brew, of course.

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Daybreakers. Vampires rule the world — but only for another month unless they find a cure for the bloody blues. Ethan Hawke stars, and Sam Neill creeps like a raptor. Try to shotgun your bevvy before the blood starts to spill.

For your last can of delicious beverage, we’re going off the board for a moment to a movie I’ve just discovered, and you  should drink to the title alone: Chance pe Dance. Step Up 3D has nothing on the pe Dance.

Riding the crimson wave.

Until next time, FilmSoldiers. Rifles out!

Sgt. Angle

Mr. Wolff’s Cinegasm (bwahaha!): Avatar

Tuesday, January 5th, 2010

You hoes knew this was coming.

Sgt. Angle asked me to write for him this week while he takes over a small country in the South Pacific so here I am.  Now I know Sgt. Angle usually writes about concepts or ideas in film-making, but that’s not what Mr. Wolff is about.  So today we’re going to talk about the movie on EVERYBODY’s top-ten list for last year: AVATAR.

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One of my courtesans is a beautiful blond with a firm butt, a six pack and a rack to make babies drool — malady is gorgeous, to be sure.  She’s also incredibly intelligent; not smart, intelligent — there is a difference and we’ll avatar_poster_2get to that.  If my car needs fixing or one of my many cyborg parts breaks down, she can get in there and fix it something quick because she knows science.  The  only problem with this buxom beaut is that in all other areas of life she is a recycled cliche of just-forgotten plot lines and bad dialogue.  I love to lay with her, I appreciate her intelligence, but I would never call her awesome because she’s so fucking stupid.  Her name is AVATAR.

By now most of you probably know about AVATAR’s history.  Cameron found the script twelve or so years ago and held on to it because the technology wasn’t around to make the film he wanted to make.  Brilliant.  The patience paid off because this movie is nothing short of a visual masterpiece.  I thought I was crying both times I saw it, but I quickly realized that it wasn’t a stream of tears rolling down my face, no: my eyes were cumming.  The render time for the CG is incredible, something like a frame every 30–50 hours.  Think about that for a second.  Yeah.  Awesome.

Yes.  I would have relations with an alien.

Yes. I would have relations with an alien.

Okay, so it’s pretty.  Nobody in their right mind will debate that fact.  What else is impressive?  The science.  Cameron hired sombody to create a fucking language.  I hold little doubt that while perusing through the halls of the San Diego Comic Con this year I will see somebody dressed as a Na’vi kickin’ it with a Klingon while they trade secrets on how to learn fictional languages and preserve their virginity.  You know it’s going to happen.  I bet somebody is reading this right now, translating the whole blog into Na’vi just to spite me.  Translate this: You’re going to die alone.  I’ve come across a few articles (like this one and this one) that defend the science behind AVATAR and you know what?  I’m in.  Sure, the film (mostly) works on an intellectual level.  I think avatardthat’s pretty cool, so chalk up another point for AVATAR.

Now this is when things go south, quickly.  Let’s talk for a moment about the plot of AVATAR.  Ex-military guy with baggage befriends would-be, tree-hugging enemies until he finds himself more comfortable with them then with his own kind.  Oh, you mean Dances with Wolves? Um, no.  This film has mechanical soldiers and advanced technology, like futuristic style shit!  Oh!  Soldier with Kurt Russel? No no, you see this takes places in an exotic rainforesty setting.  Okay, like Ferngully: The Last Rain forest? The indigenous people are big and blue.  Oh.  Well that’s neat…

The plot is tired, unoriginal and reeks of other movies that were, in their time, more original.  The message of Avatar_movie_stillthe film is a bit more complex.  Some people say it’s anti-war.  Others are claiming it’s an environmental preservation piece.  Still some claim that it is all about cultural acceptance.  Well, I say it’s about all that without being about any of it specifically.  I think the fact that the film so vaguely clings to a message persay is both admirable and deplorable.  Admirable that it seems to serve more to entertain than to preach, and deplorable in its ambiguity so that people can attach their own agendas and claim camaraderie with the film itself.  I’m reminded of a politician who will avoid definite answers in order to capture votes from both sides.  AVATAR, you dirty Demopublican bitch!

The writing overall is just, well, bad.  The dialogue is comes off as half-cocked and ill-improvised in several A-22339moments, which, to be fair, could be to do with the actor’s delivery (when Michelle Rodriguez uses a big word like “martyrdom” I know immediately she’s acting and it takes me out of the film).  Then there were the plants and payoffs: predictable and poorly implemented.  When [SPOILER ALERT] Sigourney’s character fails to fuse with her Na’vi hybrid and dies I wondered, couldn’t our hero do that?  And guess what?  He totally did — shocker!  When we are told about the union of Na’vi through the Last Shadow Rider, I thought, well hell, I wonder if we’re gonna need to unite some bitches.  And when we did need to unite, guess what happened?  Our hero rode the Last Shadow!  Oh Shnap, didn’t see that coming did you?  [END SPOILER AND SARCASTIC SURPRISE]

I think it’s worth mentioning that James Cameron is brilliant.  Yeah, I said it: Brilliant.  The man has revolutionized cinema several times: Terminator 2 anyone?  The Abyss?  Titanic?  I don’t want you to think I’m anti-Cameron.  You see, I’m actually just anti-good-directors-forgetting-about-directing-a-film-in-an-effort-to-break-ground.  That’s all.

So here’s my final judgment:  Avatar is a very pretty, very intelligent retard of a film, like a hot autistic chick that has no business in the company of greater films like The Hurt Locker or Let The Right One In.  Go see it and be impressed (either 2D or 3D will do), but ask your local theater manager to do you a favor: mute it.

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Mr. Wolff

PS: We might get some hardcore Na’vi action on the DVD!

PPSS: PAPYRUS is the SHITTIEST FONT EVER!  Bad choice Cameron, bad choice.

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