Film Review - NEW IN TOWN: ...But Same Ol' Story...

There are few actresses harder to dislike on-screen than Renee Zellweger. With her blond hair, perpetually pursed lips, and innocent doe-eyes with just a hint of mischief, she calls to mind Walt Disney’s classic depiction of Peter Pan’s Tinkerbell. In films as dissimilar as Bridget Jones’s Diary, Nurse Betty and Cold Mountain she’s shown a durable knack for mixing dramatic weight with a spot-on talent for comic timing that puts many of her peers to shame.

So what is she doing in a romantic comedy as exhaustedly formulaic and insipid as New in Town? Really, I want, no wait, make that DEMAND to know!

Initially set in sunny Miami, Zellweger’s Lucy Hill is a fashionable, business-minded consultant with a love of the fast-life and single-minded dreams for professional success, who tirelessly works for a powerful, faceless corporate entity called Munck Foods. Overshadowed and out-numbered by her male co-workers, Lucy is unanimously nominated to travel to a small Minnesota town (actually Winnipeg according to the film’s credits) and, in preparation for the company’s new line of “Rocketbar” energy bars, oversee the reconfiguration of their local manufacturing plant.

Arriving in the sleepy frozen burg of New Alms, however, Lucy quickly finds her assertive, domineering attitude at odds with the jovial, scrapbook-making, tapioca-eating, Jesus-worshipping town residents. Even more troubling is her constant conflicts with the local union leader, a tough but lovable single-father named Ted (played by Harry Connick Jr.). Over time, though, Lucy finds herself warming to her strange new friends (and Ted in particular), but when the new line fails, and the corporation demands the factory be closed, Lucy must decide what is more important: her friends or her work.

By now, you can probably easily connect the dots to figure out the ending, as well as every single possible plot development with the film, and therein lays the predicament. It’s as if the filmmakers simply tossed Notting Hill, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, Welcome To Mooseport, Groundhog Day, You’ve Got Mail, Picture Perfect and Fargo (I’ll get to that part very shortly) in a blender and hit “goo-ify”. In fact, New in Town is so by-the-books predictable that had it been made in the forties or early fifties, and a variant of the blueprint likely was, it would’ve starred Doris Day or Jean Arthur. And still felt stale.

It’s hard to say whether writers Ken Rance or C. Jay Cox were attempting to add a touch of edginess to their floppy script by including blatant references to the Coen Brothers’ Fargo, or whether it was a last minute directorial decision, but either way it stinks. Not content to simply give all the characters cartoonish accents and cutesy-pie lines - which often recall Kathy Bates’ character in Misery - the filmmaker’s even cast an irritating Frances McDormand look-alike (Siobhan Fallon Hogan) in a carbon-copy role of McDormand’s Oscar-winning Fargo character. Hell, they even give her the same last name! (Gunderson, for those short of memory) Oy vey!

...And yet these self-conscious attempts to be endearing could be forgiven had the film bothered to come up with a single original idea. Even the romance between Zellweger and Connick Jr. is strangely under-developed and ill-fitting. She seems too prim and intelligent for him, while Connick Jr. just seems to darn weird and off-putting. The actor has a strangely unsettling look in his eyes, like he’d rather be hunting human beings for sport than romancing this adorably uptight cutie.

So, okay, the romance doesn’t work. But neither does the comedy, which relies on really awkward pratfalls and extended “naughty” comedy bits. Watching Zellweger furiously attempt to find a way to pee through a suffocating snowsuit is painful at best, while a bit featuring, ahem, the effects of cold air on a certain part of the female anatomy has the comic timing of a two-bit narcoleptic stand-up.

Regardless of its countless flaws, it’s hard to truly hate New in Town (although the use of “Walking on Sunshine” on the soundtrack pushed me ever closer!) due to the sheer good intentions behind it, and because of Zellweger’s effortless lovability. This is a square, junky, banal effort of minimal ability that will probably still manage to mildly entertain a certain demographic of middle-aged female viewers. But I’d urge that their friends, families and significant others would be significantly well-served in skipping Town.

2 out of 5

*Originally printed in SFU's The Peak: Feb. 2nd, 2009.

Epi-cast: Episode 4 - "Clash Of The Eurotrash"

Yep. It's here again. Despite the many deadlines, assignments and chores which fill my daily life to the brim on any given week, there is ALWAYS time for another righteous slice of Epi-Cast. So, yes, once again my unhinged vocal co-host Tom Wytrwal and I attack the big film issues and topics for your collective amusement. Laugh at us, or with us. We don't care.

...Maybe Tom does...

Epicast: Episode 4 - "Clash of the Eurotrash."
In this stalwart return to form after last week's truncated tomfoolery, Cam and Tom contemplate a duo of European-set action extravaganzas: Underworld: Rise of the Lycans and Liam Neeson's Taken. You'll never guess which one almost sends Cam over the edge into a raving cacophony of rage. As well, they get in touch with their feminine sides discussing the Renee Zellweger vehicle New In Town, Woody Allen's Hannah And Her Sisters, and Tom finally reveals his feelings towards The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Ed Harris' retro-western Appaloosa is also mentioned, along with your favourite hosts-with-the-mosts' opinions regarding the Oscar nominations. It's fun for the whole dysfunctional flesh-eating family!

To download, right-click and save on the green episode title above and then listen/suffer to your heart's content.

P.S.: We are also now available on iTunes as well. Simply do a store search for "Epi-Cast" and lo and behold we're there. Oh, but we're not the Christian blither-blather one.

Film Review - MY BLOODY VALENTINE 3-D: Three Dimensions of Gory Bad-Assery!

Is there any film-making technology rifer with possibilities for cheesy excess than the 3-D format? While Hollywood has recently made multi-million dollar efforts to rehabilitate the once bastardized film-making technique with semi-classy experiments such as Beowulf, Journey to the Centre of the Earth and Bolt, these efforts have been met with mixed critical and commercial response. For sure the improved filming process allows for more clearly rendered images, and the immersive quality of the technology thrills ADD-addled ankle-biters, but where’s the goofy audience-jolting fun that the format once offered? When nasty characters like Jason, Freddy and Jaws leapt ferociously off the screen and into the popcorn-stuffed faces of packed houses of screaming teenage movie-goers?

Spotting the chance to exploit this desire for eye-popping cinematic cheese, Lionsgate films bought up the rights to a little-remembered 1981 Canadian splatter-house epic and set out to create the mother of all 3-D Slasher pictures. Fortunately for gore-hounds and carnage-connoisseurs of all ages, the resulting film, My Bloody Valentine 3-D, is both a playfully amusing throwback to the Dead Teenager classics of yesteryear, as well as a rapturously entertaining exercise in three-dimensional grisliness.

Set in the small mining community of Harmony, where a tragic mining accident recently left five dead and one man in a coma, MBV 3-D opens in spectacular fashion with the surviving victim abruptly awakening from his hospital bed with blood-thirsty vengeance running through his fractured psyche. Donning a sinister black gas mask, hard-hat and jumpsuit, he goes on a Valentine’s Day mass-murder spree which results in roughly twenty sorry individuals being impaled on his merciless pick-axe. However, after being seemingly shot down by police, and left to die in a crushing mine collapse, life is once again allowed to revert back to normal in the once-peaceful town.

...For ten years at least. Unfortunately, with the sudden reappearance of the former mine-owner’s son Tom Hanniger (Jensen Ackles), who’s returning after a decade-long, soul-searching sabbatical with plans to sell the prosperous mine, the amount of pick-axe-related homicides begins to drastically rise. Doggedly in pursuit of the slayer’s identity is the shady Sheriff Axel Palmer (Kerr Smith), a stubble-faced womanizer who is now married to Tom’s High School sweetheart Sarah (Jaime King). As the horrifically butchered bodies begin to pile-up, all suspicions begin to fall on Tom, who, with the aid of the conflicted Sarah, must attempt to clear his name and unravel the mystery behind who exactly is hiding behind that ghastly wheezing mask.

While My Bloody Valentine 3-D’s plotline seems undeniably ripped from a thousand other horror tales featuring marauding masked executioners, it seems doubtful that anyone will truly care. Rather, it’s infinitely more important to spotlight the brilliantly seamy methods in which director Patrick Lussier utilizes the flick’s state-of-the-art 3-D effects. With gleeful sadism which recalls Alexander Aja’s The Hills Have Eyes remake, Lussier fills his frames with countless sordid sights, including a multitude of merciless acts of pick-axe slaughter, horrendously graphic glimpses at dismembered corpses and even a five-minute chase scene featuring a nubile blonde wearing nothing but a look of terror.

For all the credit – or perhaps blame – Lussier deserves for delivering such an unapologetic visual disgustathon, his actors do a good job in keeping the audience involved when heads, eyeballs and jawbones aren’t rolling. Kerr Smith, of Dawson’s Creek fame, is a compelling jerk, while Jaime King is nicely understated and natural playing the prototypical Slasher film heroine. Jensen Ackles is charismatic and likable, yet also displays a nice level of torment which aids considerably in underscoring the ambiguity of the character. Also, it’s great to see the legendary Tom Atkins, star of The Fog and Halloween III, back on the big screen as the town’s tough-talking, hard-assed former Sheriff.

It can’t be stressed enough, though, the importance in seeing this film in its intended 3-D projection, inside a theatre packed with like-minded patrons. My own experience, which featured a gaggle of screeching teenagers – some of whom proved to be under-age, and were loudly removed by humourless theatre staff members - mixed with unkempt middle-aged men who likely hadn’t bathed since Jason took Manhattan, added a delicious layer of amusement park joviality to the whole event. Indeed, every squirt of blood, jutting blade and flash of nudity was met with celebratory gratitude.

Ultimately, MBV 3-D lives and dies by its gimmick as, in terms of its respective genre, the film is only slightly above par. However, as a wickedly rowdy three-dimensional roller-coaster ride, it’s a much-appreciated reminder of the tasteless excitement offered by the grossest of B-movie delights. Before seeing the film, logic told me that there was a limit on how many three-dimensional pick-axe murders one could see before becoming bored. To my surprise and relief, My Bloody Valentine 3-D proved me dead wrong.

The Movie: 3 out of 5

The 3-D Experience: 4 out of 5

Over-all: 3.5 out of 5

*Originally printed in SFU's The Peak: Jan. 26th, 2009.

Epi-cast: Episode 3.5 - "Rourkes, Reichs and Mac Tonights!"

Yup, you begged, you pleaded, and yet we still ignored you all and have continued to crank out these half-witted verbal travelogues of the inner workings of our film-plugged psyches. So strap on your stupid-hats and get ready for another slap-tastic journey with your iron-fisted overlords/podcast hosts: Cam Smith and Tom Wytrwal.

Epi-Cast: Episode 3.5 - "Rourkes, Reichs and Mac Tonights!
In this abbreviated quickie entry Cam and Tom strap on their jock-straps and chin-guards and get all oiled up and, um... they, er... Oh right, they enter a cage match of death in attempting to review and analyze Darren Aronofsky's Mickey Rourke vehicle The Wrestler. They also kick around a few choice thought-provoking films including The Unborn, Downfall, The Golden Compass and American Pie 2(!?). And just when you thought they were burrowing down and getting all professional-like, they wander off on a ten-minute tangeant in which they mourn the absence of out-dated McDonald's mascots. Seriously.

To download, right-click and save on the green episode title above and then listen/suffer to your heart's content.

P.S.: We are also now available on iTunes as well. Simply do a store search for "Epi-Cast" and lo and behold we're there. Oh, but our's is the film show, not the Christian talky one.

Film Review - THE WRESTLER: A Gripping Grappler Drama.

While very few memories of my early childhood still remain present in my increasingly over-taxed frontal lobes, I still hold preciously vivid memories of attending the WWF spectacular at the PNE Coliseum in the now distant year of 1986. Over the course of an enchanting evening, which surely put my mom’s infinite patience to the test, the audience was treated to a litany of unforgettable sights such as Bret “The Hitman” Hart, in his ever-present hot pink tank top, sneering and spitting on a rowdily appreciative crowd, as well as Jake “The Snake” Roberts lugging his trademark python around the ring to mass applause and adoration.

While silly in retrospect, those unforgettable sights over-powered my 6-year-old imagination like a Flux Capacitor on a DeLorean, and as I’ve grown older they’ve remained encapsulated in a hazy golden glow of nostalgia. Yet, watching Darren Aronofsky’s new film The Wrestler, which arrives on a tidal wave of goodwill for newly resurrected comeback kid Mickey Rourke, I found those wistful childhood memories frequently dragged kicking and screaming into the present.

Playing Randy “The Ram” Robinson, a once great superstar in the WWF tradition, who is now a lonely trailer-park denizen with bad knees, a hearing aid and an over-reliance on prescription medication, Rourke disappears under a cloak of physical and emotional pain. As he travels to beat-up gyms and dingy community centres to perform in violent low-level wrestling matches for cash and perhaps one last chance for glory, Randy’s disappointment and understanding of his rapidly dwindling celebrity is reflected through the battered eyes of Rourke, a once-great talent also very familiar with lost potential.

For all his flaws, injuries and emotional shortcomings however, Randy remains a sadly loving individual who yearns to connect with those around him. Between visits to a scuzzy local strip club, where he pines for a middle-aged pole dancer named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), he clumsily attempts to repair his broken relationship with his rightfully resentful daughter (Evan Rachel Wood). Captured with near-documentary precision by Aronofsky and cinematographer Maryse Alberti, these relationships and affecting encounters, as well as Randy’s quest for relevance, form the central narrative of The Wrestler, a film which eschews typical Hollywood story-telling in favour of in-depth character study and profound emotional truths.

With his long, tacky bleached blonde hair, as well as an imposing stature and craggy features which bring to mind Marvel Comic’s The Thing, it’s amazing how winning Rourke comes across, and how he manages to convey the experience of living within Randy’s skin to the audience. From the exhilaration of standing in front of a crowd of enthusiastic screaming fans, to the humiliation of being forced to work for low wages at a measly deli counter job, there is an uncanny sense of transference at work, washing Randy’s joys and sorrows over us in unstoppable waves. To call the performance a masterwork is to sell it short; Rourke is the pulsating exposed heart of The Wrestler, delivering a performance so steeped in reality that it’s often difficult to separate the creator from the creation.

Rourke’s co-stars prove to be equally up to the daunting challenge of matching his go-for-broke portrayal. Tomei, an actress who seems to be hitting her professional stride in recent years, is a fine counterpart to the commanding star. A mirror reflection of Randy’s own battle to remain viable in a youth-driven field, her stripper character walks a fine line between loving and distant. She recognizes as much good in him as bad, and Tomei’s brave performance allows us to sympathize with her at the same time we crave for a solution to Randy’s crippling loneliness. Similarly Evan Rachel Wood creates an honest and gripping three-dimensional portrait of bare childhood wounds in just a few short but invaluable scenes.

The performances would be for nought though, if it weren’t for Aronofsky’s steady directorial hand, unobtrusively revealing the layers of Randy’s world and allowing his actors supportive free reign over their environment and performances. There isn’t a single clumsy moment or false sentiment in The Wrestler, and Aronofsky’s effortless mastery over the film’s key scenes, such as Randy’s heartbreaking beach-side walk with his daughter or a gruesome extreme wrestling match featuring staple-guns and barb wire, further solidifies him as one of our most important of new directors.

For all of his dreams, virtues and faults, Randy “The Ram” Robinson goes on the short-list of the greatest of modern film characters, an individual who I felt strangely richer for having been able to be introduced to. The Wrestler is a stirring exploration of the human spirit, as well as a painful reminder of one of life’s many tragedies: that our heroes, no matter how romanticized or forgotten, are ultimately destined to grow old along with us.

5 out of 5

*Originally printed in SFU's The Peak: Jan. 19th, 2009.

Film Review - THE UNBORN: Kill It! Kill It!

When reviewing a truly stupid and clunky film, it’s often tempting to avoid critical thought and instead simply hurl an endless assortment of pithy puns and one-liners in a self-conscious attempt to feel superior to the lame subject at hand. For example, in dealing with the Michael Bay-produced The Unborn I could simply snidely refer to it as being “poorly conceived”, “labourously delivered” or, perhaps more crudely, “a messy afterbirth”. But I shan’t let these alluring temptations sway my course in properly informing you of how truly pitiful and dunderheaded The Unborn truly is.

Set in a very murky looking Chicago, The Unborn opens with that most treasured standby of hacky horror scribes: the surreal dream sequence. In this particular nightmarish-reverie, young Casey Beldon (Odette Yustman – last seen playing monster fodder in Cloverfield) strolls uneasily through a lonely, foreboding suburban street where she encounters a paper-masked dog and a blue-eyed demon-child. Despite her friends’ and families’ dismissive attitudes toward these nocturnal terrors (not to mention her sudden change in eye colour), it becomes swiftly apparent during a particularly hellish babysitting gig that otherworldly forces are at fiendish play.

With a little light research, Casey discovers two vitally important facts: that she is of Jewish ancestry, with familial ties to Nazi concentration camps and experimentation, and more importantly, that she once had a twin brother who died while still in utero. In bringing these shocking revelations to light, our intrepid heroine learns that she is being supernaturally hounded by a dybbuk, a malevolent spirit famed in Jewish folklore, who yearns to enter into our world through her. With the aid of slumming special guest star Gary Oldman, playing a friendly neighbourhood rabbi, young Casey must valiantly attempt to exorcise the pesky demonic nuisance and forever close the book on her family’s own frighteningly tumultuous past.

Now, in theory, the concept of a Jewish variation on The Exorcist is a great idea. Why should the Catholics have all the fun in banishing paranormal trouble-makers and kicking undead ass? Unfortunately though, writer/director David S. Goyer (the screenwriting guiding force behind Wesley Snipes’ Blade trilogy, who also acted as a collaborator of increasingly dubious importance on the recent Batman films) is unquestionably not the man to accomplish so noble a task.

From the outset, in failing to establish a compelling canvas for his characters, Goyer bungles the whole project. The best atmospheric horror flicks, like The Shining or Poltergeist, depend on well-established relatable characters who involve us in their day-to-day lives, drawing us into a false sense of comfort before the screaming starts. The Unborn, unfortunately, ditches this philosophy and utilizes the Slasher film motif, which calls for one-dimensional Calvin Klein models who speak solely in the robotic type of teen-speak best known by forty-year-old Hollywood writers.

In addition, Goyer fails to create an interesting environment or back-story for Casey, his bland heroine. It’s hard to feel much empathy or fright when we’re asked to spend 87 minutes with frequently underwear-clad nonentity. Yustman, a pleasant Megan Fox lookalike, may possess talent but, judging from her often laughably overly sincere performance, lacks the charisma and skill to carry a film. (Yes, even this one!) Her limited range is especially apparent when acting opposite Gary Oldman, a pro even under the direst of circumstances, who understands the importance in adding dimension and idiosyncratic flair to tone-deaf dialogue and flat characterizations.

While Goyer fills his oddly self-important horror show with some creepy visuals, such as a dog with an upside down head and a freaky twisted-up old man who walks like a crab, he too often relies on annoying shots of his generic evil child antagonist shrieking. At this point, after sitting through umpteen Ring and Grudge clones, the days of finding well-dressed demonic children frightening are well behind me, not to mention endless chase scenes through moonlit abandoned gothic sets.

The fact that The Unborn is so cheerlessly dreary and persistently dull makes it almost impossible to really fire up much critical wrath over it. This is the type of artless quick-buck scary movie created to win a slow box-office weekend before vanishing into the nether realms of your local video store’s dusty horror section. You could almost pronounce it “stillborn” upon arrival... Not that I ever would, of course.

1 out of 5

*Originally printed in SFU's The Peak: Jan. 19th, 2009

Epi-Cast: Episode 3 - "The Curious Case of Bigoty Clint."

Hey guys, gals and that very specific group of weirdo degenerates that classify themselves as "other". Just dropping you all a quick note to clue you in on myself and co-host Tom Wytrwal's latest blast of aural pleasure: the newest, screwiest Epi-Cast yet!

To download, right-click and save on the green episode title above and then listen/suffer to your heart's content.

Epi-Cast: Episode 3 - "The Curious Case of Bigoty Clint."
Cam and Tom search their inner selves for an answer as to whether Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino manages to out-offend even their own combined ignorance, as well as nitpick, high-five and sternly approve of the film itself. As well, they journey well outside of their respective comfort zones both in debating President Obama's potentially unfortunate effect on Hollywood, as well as deciding whether Tyler Perry's movie output is an insult to his intended audience. When not inflaming race riots, they discuss films such as: Revolutionary Road, Amazing Grace, Watchmen, X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Body Of Lies and Cape Fear (1962).

The Bottom-10 Worst Films of 2008

Howdy folks, here's the companion piece to my "Best of" list from last week. Unlike that particular list, it was not an awe-inspiring task to find ten cringe-inducing films to fill out a proper compilation of cinematic suck-fests. It actually pains me to exclude Hancock and Eagle Eye from the main body of the list, but what can you do? I should also mention that I never got around to checking out The Love Guru or Twilight, I'm content with the amount of dreck which I did manage to witness. As an aside, I'd just like to throw out my opinion that Revolutionary Road was the worst of the Oscar-bait flicks this year, but was obviously nowhere near as awful as what follows. Enjoy, for I sure didn't...

1) "YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN." aka "Adam Sandler Hates Us All!". No single film on this list was anywhere near as unpleasant a viewing experience as Sandler's latest crime against humanity. A dismal attempt at mining humour from animal cruelty, groan-worthy sex jokes and flippantly irresponsible racism, Zohan is a black hole of comedy which over and over again attempts to earn laughs through sheer mean-spiritedness. There's truth in the title though, as sitting in the theatre for what felt like eternity, I realized that life would have been better had I not messed with Zohan at all.

2) "10,000 BC." Remember the famous scene in Stanley Kubrick's 2001 where a prehistoric man continually beats his fallen opponent over the head with a bone until he's dead? Stretch that scene out to 109 minutes, and you can imagine the agony of enduring director Roland Emmerich's latest patience-tester. Featuring a cast of wooden model-types in fur outfits and bad wigs battling ravenous giant ostriches (!) and poorly rendered mammoths, the film would be a kooky riot if it didn't take itself so flippin' seriously. Instead, it's a gloomy reminder of how completely empty a slap-dash CG-fuelled action epic can be.

3) "MAX PAYNE." It would seem that, among other things, 2008 was truly the year for wretched Mark Wahlberg performances (See entry #9 as well), as evidenced by this lobotomized video-game adaptation. Seemingly impersonating a corpse, and communicating only through grimaces and mumbles, Wahlberg wades sullenly through a Sin City-on-downers universe filled with inexplicable demonic angels and an all-too-perky Mila Kunis. I'm not sure what director John Moore had in mind when pasting this schizophrenic, catatonia-inducing mess together, but the film's eye-rolling bullet-time action scenes had me almost wistfully yearning to revisit the Matrix sequels. And that is just plain wrong!

4) "RIGHTEOUS KILL." Geez, who peed in Robert De Niro's high-fibre breakfast cereal? The once fiery talent of Raging Bull and Taxi Driver conceals his once amazing vitality under a blanket of sour, dour glumness in this dreary cop thriller co-starring a David Lynch-haired Al Pacino. From the now-bloated De Niro's stomach-turning rough-sex scenes with the gorgeous Carla Gugino, to a hilarious little moment where the 68-year-old Pacino inexplicably springs into ninja mode, Righteous Kill packs all of the tediousness and bungling production values of a late night made-for-cable sleep-aid.

5) "THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: PRINCE CASPIAN." It seems unthinkable that Disney, a studio famed for unbridled creativity, could produce a two-and-a-half hour fantasy epic devoid of a single original idea or second of fun. Rather, Prince Caspian is a badly acted, overstuffed bore which rips all of its ill-fitting parts from better films such as Lord of the Rings, 300 and Shrek 2. The Mouse House made a smart move in unceremoniously dumping this soggy franchise, as another trip to Narnia would all but guarantee fewer trips to theatres.

6) "DECEPTION." What would happen if you made an erotic thriller pairing neurotic, sleazy men with bedraggled women who looked as if they had just escaped from a tacky Southern Californian porn set, and gave their dalliances all the sinful sizzle of a Zeller's lingerie advertisement? The answer, of course, would be Deception, an almost hilariously unbearable sludge through post-Basic Instinct drudgery. As Ewan McGregor whines and twitches like Woody Allen, and Hugh Jackman leers like a particularly unsavoury gym teacher, the film devolves into a series of predictable twists, double crosses and repellent close encounters of the lurid kind.

7) "PROM NIGHT." Who was the MENSA genius that concocted the bright idea of producing a PG-13 rated slasher flick bereft of scares and, well, slashing? Watching the "film", it's hard not to pity the attractive and usually talented Brittany Snow, who is made to look like a High School drama drop-out. As she braves an endless series of false scares, insipid, tone-deaf dialogue exchanges and encounters with a very oily Johnathon Schaech -whose inexplicably odd eyebrows are far more disconcerting than any of the bloodless (off-screen) slayings – we begin to realize that the most gruesome aspect of the film lies in the sheer number of career suicides simultaneously occurring on-screen.

8) "DIARY OF THE DEAD." It appears that George A. Romero, the horror icon behind the fright classics Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead, has become infected with the same mind-rotting virus which produces his shuffling, brain-dead zombies. How else to explain this pathetic and shallow attempt at satire which features an annoying band of unconvincing film students, who spit an endless barrage of childish, leaden criticisms relating to media culture, all the while capturing a zombie invasion on hand-held cameras. By the end of this stagnant snoozer, one can't help but be bored as stiff as one of Diary's many undead antagonists.

9) "THE HAPPENING." Mark Wahlberg's second entry on this prestigious list comes courtesy of once great, now disgraced director M. Night Shyamalan's gloriously campy killer-plant blockbuster. Featuring stunning moments of camp-tastic excess, such as arm-eating lions, a sputtering, hand-slapping, head-smashing Betty Buckley and numerous shots of mannequin-like characters musing about hot dogs and attempting to outrun the wind, The Happening is a momentous achievement in so-bad-it's-good cinema. As well, between this film and Nic Cage's The Wicker Man, it's safe to say that a moratorium is officially now in effect against any and all film dialogue which dares to mention, reference or pertain to bees or bee-related activities.

10) "STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS." As a long-time Star Wars apologist, watching George Lucas' latest perversion of his once revered space opera series was akin to being successfully reprogrammed after escaping the warped confines of a brain-washing cult. After being subjected to this cheap animated bottom-feeder, which features slug-like homosexual caricatures, jailbait Jedi's and a wailing Hutt baby referred to as "Punky Muffin", I now recognize the true horror and perversity that the disenfranchised masses had long seen seeping into their beloved universe. It's tragic that, unlike Darth Vader, Lucas has proven that one doesn't require a Death Star to destroy a galaxy...

Dishonourable Mentions (In no particular order): "THE SPIRIT", "HANCOCK", "EAGLE EYE", "JUMPER", "THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL", "BE KIND REWIND", "LEATHERHEADS", "THE MUMMY: TOMB OF THE DRAGON EMPEROR".

*Main content originally printed in SFU's "The Peak": Jan. 12th, 2009.

The Top-10 Best Films Of 2008!!!

Ahhhh, what a year 2008 was. Of all things, it will likely be remembered as a time when summer blockbusters were at their highest peak - intelligent, well written and technically superb - and fully deserving of the cacophony of hype leading up to them. Iron Man? The Dark Knight? Incredible Hulk? Wall-E? Fuggedaboutit. I imagine impending summer 2009's strong slate (Wolverine, Transformers 2, G.I. Joe, Star Trek) will more than meet these high standards (Eye-roll). Curiously, however, this passing year will also be recalled as one of the weakest of Oscar-bait years, with disappointing wannabe award's winners like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Reader and Australia fumbling their chance for the greatest of glories. Oh well, here is my top ten of the year, selected from the 85 films I wasted my precious hours attending. Hope you enjoy, and please note that at the time of this list's compiling, Gran Torino, The Wrestler and Revolutionary Road have yet to reach my neck of the woods. I also didn't see Twilight, though that's probably neither here nor there...

Without further adieu...

1) “THE DARK KNIGHT.” Even though the backlash (Batlash?) is well underway, there’s no getting around the fact that five months after first viewing, Christopher Nolan’s dense, disconcerting superhero crime epic continues to amaze. Heath Ledger’s darkly comical performance as the preening Clown Prince of Crime aside, the key to The Dark Knight’s brilliance lies in its seemingly effortless weaving of pulse-pummelling action and intriguing moral conundrums into a world made troublingly familiar. The Caped Crusader’s latest epic tale is a stunning reminder of what the magic of the movies can achieve, and hopefully inspires future comic-book adaptations to think a little more outside the panel.

2) “SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE.” Director Danny Boyle’s kinetic and life-affirming story of a young Bombay orphan, whose journey of self-discovery leads him to true love and a chance for financial windfall on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. In following the film’s young hero, Jamal, from childhood to maturity amidst settings alternately grimy and arresting, Boyle and screenwriter Simon Beaufoy never shy away from the ugly truths of the boy’s reality. Their commitment and unique personal vision has created an exhilarating coming-of-age film and a gorgeous filmic fable destined to inspire viewers for many years to come.

3) “MILK.” Just when you thought you had Sean Penn nailed down, he shows up in a film like Milk and completely blows all expectations to smithereens. This triumphant and moving biopic, which follows the life and career of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay U.S. government official, is a sincere and touching examination of an individual’s power to create change, and a sincere plea for tolerance and understanding for all human-beings. Lovingly directed by acclaimed director Gus Van Sant, and featuring great character work by Josh Brolin, James Franco and Emile Hirsch, Milk is an inspiring story told at precisely the right time.

4) “THE ORPHANAGE.” While technically a cheat, due to an international release and assorted film festival appearances at the tail-end of last year, first-time director Juan Antonio Bayona’s ghastly, ghostly horror fable is too spookily brilliant to go unrewarded. Coated with a thick atmosphere of unrelenting dread, the film follows a grieving mother, powerfully played by Belen Rueda, who journeys into the world of the supernatural in search of her missing son. Featuring the most suspenseful supernatural séance put to film, The Orphanage is a relentlessly gripping bone-chiller that, surprisingly, may actually bring a tear to your eye before the final fade to black.

5) “THE VISITOR.” No man has eyes as alternately sad and hopeful as actor Richard Jenkins, who gave one of the year’s best performances in this criminally overlooked gem. Playing a withdrawn economics professor, whose newly-formed bond with an illegal Syrian immigrant (the effortlessly charming newcomer Haaz Sleiman) is threatened by the U.S. immigration department, Jenkins’ Walter Vale is a refreshingly honest and heartbreaking portrait of frustration and helplessness in the face of overbearing bureaucracy. Writer/director Thomas McCarthy has a wonderful eye and ear for human truth and, through examining Walter’s relationship with actress Hiam Abbass, also fashions one of the most authentically stirring adult romances in recent memory.

6) “HELLBOY II: THE GOLDEN ARMY.” The astonishing success of 2006’s Pan’s Labyrinth thankfully allowed visionary director Guillermo del Toro to run rampant with this follow-up to his 2004 demonic superhero sleeper. Following the further exploits of Ron Perlman’s surly scarlet badass, Hellboy II immerses viewers into a rich universe of voracious tooth faeries, ominous troll markets and gleaming mechanized clockwork armies. Employing a skilful mastery of adventure and off-beat humour, as well as an unwavering dedication to the power of fantasy, del Toro crafted one of the year’s most vivid transportive experiences.

7) “FROST/NIXON.” While Batman and the Joker may have been 2008’s definitive duelling duo, second place surely goes to Frank Langella’s wily fallen president and Michael Sheen’s underdog journalist in Ron Howard’s riveting semi-fictionalized historical recreation. From spot-on period detail, to a cavalcade of searing performances from a cast which also includes Sam Rockwell, Oliver Platt and Kevin Bacon, Frost/Nixon manages to take the most uncinematic of concepts – the static interview form – and conjures up one of the year’s most intelligent and provocative films.

8) “WALL-E.” C-3P0 and R2-D2’s mantle has officially been passed, as the diminutive binocular-eyed star of Pixar’s latest is the new ambassador for lovable robotic beings this galaxy and beyond. His movie isn’t too shabby either, a poignant and amusing underdog tale with an adorably sweet love story, which mixes in surprisingly provocative classic sci-fi concepts, inspired by films such as 2001 and Silent Running, to rapturous crowd-pleasing effect. From Wall-E’s lonely trash-filled planet, to his and EVE’s enchanting dance amongst the stars, Wall-E proves that when it comes to creating unforgettable visuals, Pixar continues to reign supreme.

9) “RACHEL GETTING MARRIED.” Sometimes momentous failure leads to great things. After releasing a duo of cinematic turkeys, Oscar-winning director Jonathan Demme regrouped and seized hold of first time screenwriter Jenny Lumet’s brilliantly acidic and perceptive examination of middle-class dysfunction under pressure. With captivating performances by Anne Hathaway as a bitter recovering addict, and Bill Irwin as the conflicted family patriarch, Rachel Getting Married is captured with virtuosic near-documentary precision by Demme, a sharp directorial talent hungry to prove his worth again. Fortunately for the viewer, his triumphant success is our great pleasure.

10) “CHOKE.” This filthy little triumph, all but ignored in its theatrical run, is a smutty, filthy little valentine for film-fans exhausted and infuriated by off-the-shelf Hollywood rom-coms. Sam Rockwell stars as a sex-addicted ne’er-do-well with serious mommy issues (though with the slyly cruel Angelica Huston as his mother, it’s not hard to see why...), an adorable but nutty girlfriend (Kelly Macdonald) and, quite possibly, a divine lineage. Choke’s cleverness lies in its ability to mix its off-beat attitude and perversions, wacky plot-turns, and sweet love story into a truly original entertainment that manages to mix some “awww’s” amongst the gags.

Honourable Mentions (In no particular order): "RAMBO", "FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL", "RELIGULOUS", "MAN ON WIRE", "IRON MAN", "THE INCREDIBLE HULK", "IN BRUGES", "SNOW ANGELS", "DOUBT".

*Main content originally printed in SFU's "The Peak": January 5, 2009.

Jan. 11th Edit: Gran Torino and Revolutionary Road are well out of Top-10 contention, but The Wrestler would have likely ended up in the upper 5 had it been released at a more opportune time. Sorry Mickey, you'll have to settle for an Oscar...

Epi-Cast: Episode 2 - "Tilda Swinton On Da Brain."

Peace to the geese! Despite the fact that I've yet to write up anything even approaching substancial (other than a weirdo Punisher: War Zone review that was written when I'd forgotten to take my meds. Don't ask...), I'm giving you all another free podcast featuring myself and my jovial co-host Tom Wytrwal. This one's a bit less over-stuffed, and definately more concise and on-par. Hope you all enjoy it.

To download, right-click and save on the green episode title above and then be aurally satisfied to your heart's content.

Epi-Cast Episode 2: "Tilda Swinton On Da Brain."
In this sleeker, tighter follow-up to a true classic original, Cam and Tom find themseves frequently distracted by Tilda Swinton's overwhelming sense of oddness. When not pontificating on their middling attractions to her, they delve deeply into Tom Cruise's comeback vehicle Valkyrie, muse about Brad Pitt's value as an actor and movie star, and discuss films ranging from The Reader and The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button to Make Mine Music and The Wind That Shakes The Barley. It's a full hour of politically incorrect info-tainment guaranteed to get a rise out even the staunchest Tilda Swinton fanatic. Perhaps even the alien lady herself...