The Screengrab

Sequel to "Donnie Darko" Is on the Way, to Much to the Dismay of the Creator of "Donnie Darko"

2008-05-12T21:30:00Z

Donnie Darko (2001), the long-gestating cult hit from writer-director Richard Kelly, is about to get an ugly little brother. Or maybe a stepbrother, or just somebody who got ahold of its social security number and is charging pizzas to its account. The planned sequel, S. Darko, begins shooting next week and is going to be shopped around at the 2008 Cannes Film Festival. The film's title refers to the character of Samantha Darko, who was Donnie's sister in the original film and was played by Daviegh Chase. The plot will involve a road trip the now- eighteen-year-old Samantha takes with a friend, a trip that becomes complicated when they begin to experience "bizarre visions." (Spoiler alert: Donnie, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, did not survive the conclusion of the first film.) Daveigh Chase will reprise her role in the new film, and that's as close as it has to an actual, breathing connection to the original Donnie Darko. The $10-million production will be directed by Chris Fisher, who directed and co-wrote Dirty, a crooked-cop drama starring Cuba Cooding, Jr., and horror flicks about real-life murderers Richard ("Night Stalker") Ramirez and the Hillside Strangler. (Fisher says that "I am a great admirer of Richard Kelly's film and hope to create a similar world of blurred fantasy and reality.") Simon Crowe, of the production company Velvet Octopus, chimes in: "I think there is a new generation of cinema-goers who will be very excited to see this film."

Whatever generation he has in mind, it does not appear that Richard Kelly is among them. Cinemascope reports on Kelly's official reaction: "Over the last couple of days, a few people have asked me what’s up with 'this Donnie Darko sequel.' So to set the record straight, here’s a few facts I’d like to share with you all - I haven’t read this script. I have absolutely no involvement with this production, nor will I ever be involved. I have no control over the rights from our original film, and neither I nor my producing partner Sean McKittrick stand to make any money from this film."Reaction from fans has been swift, too: there's already a petition on-line devoted to shutting the damn thing down. (Quick, somebody call Sprite Gum!) It's not clear that Kelly can do anything to prevent his baby from being defiled; he owns no rights to his own property. And it's not exactly the first time that some hack has threatened to grind out a string of sausage movies "based" on an original that deserves to be treated with more respect. (Can you say The Stepfather II: Father's Day?) But it's definitely a cheeky move to try this sort of thing with such a beloved art-cult object, especially given how long it took for Richard Kelly himself to start reaping some benefits from Donnie Darko itself. Or, as Cinemascope's Peter Sciretta puts in, in a line worthy of Dr. Van Helsing: "damn the buyers that will pour money what seems on the outset as a blasphemous and disrespectful project".

Keira Knightley Wants to Be an Actress When She Grows Up

2008-05-12T20:00:00Z

You want to talk about life experiences? Keira Knightley is twenty-three years old and has already starred in three very long movies based on a Disney theme park ride. "I mean, it was really fucking embarrassing and we all thought it was going to be total shit anyway," she told Matthew Rhys. "But then suddenly I was kissing Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom and bang, there you go, instant bloody stardom. I'd always wanted to be an actress, always dreamt of it, but I don't think you're ever quite prepared for being a movie star." Maybe not, but it's probably a good sign that she recognizes that the two positions are not the same, though they sometimes overlap. "I know that when Bend it like Beckham came out and it was quickly followed by Pirates, suddenly people were looking at me and thinking, 'Well she's not very good, she's just a pretty face, don't know what all the fuss is about'. But I wasn't really ready to be scrutinised. I wasn't any good at my job yet. But with Pride and Prejudice, yes, I was at least trying to say: look, see, I can learn, and I can do this, or at least give me the right director and I'll give it my best shot. So since those first films, I've always been looking to be stretched - it doesn't always mean I'm going to be good, but I'm trying to become a good actress, really I am."

Knightley, whose acting in the Jane Austen picture and for that matter in Bend It Like Beckham the Pirates movies was actually pretty good, really it was, is growing up, and she'll soon be seen playing the "childhood sweetheart" of Dylan Thomas (Cillian Murphy) in "a very sexy piece", The Edge of Love. (Sienna Miller co-stars as Thomas's wife, who is presumably the edge of the title.) The role called for her to do a little singing, and to help psych herself up for it, she turned to Marlene Dietrich, "She couldn't really sing, not properly, but she had such a ballsy, fuck-off quality to her voice that it didn't matter if she hit the right notes, so I thought well I'll try that approach." Dude, Keira Knightley just said "ballsy, fuck-off quality." Can youn imagine what she's going to sound like after she's had a couple of husbands and stints in rehab behind her? Honestly, if more Hollywoos starlets woulf talk this way in interviews instead of saving it for the hired help, it would make it so much easier to forgive so much.

Video(s) of the Day: Short Films by Guy Maddin

2008-05-12T19:00:00Z

Earlier today, I posted the trailer for Guy Maddin’s latest feature, entitled My Winnipeg. So it seemed like as good an excuse as any to revisit two of Maddin’s best-known short films. First, here’s his 2000 masterpiece The Heart of the World, which was originally commissioned for the Toronto Film Festival that year and ended up being one of the most raved-about films of the fest, short or otherwise. It’s a Soviet-style epic in miniature, full of grandiose camera angles and plenty of phallic imagery, and climaxing in an orgasmic celebration of… well, see for yourself:

Now, from the sublime to the oh-so-ridiculous, here’s Maddin’s infamous 1995 short Sissy Boy Slap Party. While hardly a masterful work like The Heart of the World, it’s still a lot of fun, and just as un-PC as the title would suggest. Check it out:

All-Night Mockbuster Marathon

2008-05-12T18:30:00Z

It’s time for another all-night marathon, so put on a pot of coffee, find the sweet spot on the couch and join me for a nocturnal journey into the shadowy world of the mockbuster. (If you’re not sure what a mockbuster is, here’s a handy primer.)

12 midnight. We begin with the latest mockbuster from the good people at the Asylum, Allan Quatermain and the Temple of Lost Skulls. I’ll bet you can guess which blockbuster-in-waiting occasioned the release of this one. Although the character of Allan Quatermain actually predates the creation of Indiana Jones by nearly a century, his reappearance now is a case of history repeating itself. Temple of Skulls is based on H. Rider Haggard’s 1885 novel King Solomon’s Mines, as was the 1985 film starring Richard Chamberlain, a mockbuster before they had a word for it. (Back then, we charitably called it a Raiders of the Lost Ark ripoff.) This doesn’t stop the producers from claiming that Allan Quatermain inspired Indiana Jones, which is partially true but certainly misleading in this context. In any case, there is no temple of skulls in the movie, so you can bet it was retitled once Lucasfilm announced the name of the latest Indiana Jones flick. Anyway, as Temple of Skulls begins, two rugged prospector types in South Africa find the map to King Solomon’s mines. Not trusting each other, they split it in half to ensure they’ll stick together. Shortly thereafter they are attacked by Zulus and the map pieces blow away. Some time later, rugged great white hunter Quatermain (Sean Michael) gets his hands on one half.

12:20 am. I’m trying to figure out when this movie is set. We’ve got coal-burning trains, ladies in frilly frocks, black dudes in hip-hop hats and Nazi references. So I guess…some time in the last 70 years or so? Anyway, Quatermain has teamed up with Sir Henry and Lady Anna, a wealthy couple with the other half of the map. They are being pursued by Quatermain’s arch-nemesis, a scenery chewer straight out of an old Hammer horror movie.

12:30 am. Here we have a five-mile-an-hour chase between a truck and a locomotive engine. It’s like someone stuck a Monty Python sketch in the middle of the movie.

12:45 am. Our heroes dodge CGI bugs, then encounter a (real) rhino. This scene is edited Survivor-style; we have no idea if the rhino is even in the same hemisphere as Quatermain and the gang.

1:00 am. In fine National Geographic tradition, Quatermain and company are captured by bare-breasted natives. There is a bizarre CGI Zulu head-removal ritual.

1:15 am. I was expecting pretty much constant action and zero plot from Temple of Skulls, but that’s not actually the case. For all I know, it’s a reasonably faithful adaptation. I must give the Asylum credit for scenery at least; the movie is purty to look at.

1:40 am. Let us move on to King of the Lost World, another literary adaptation posing as a recent blockbuster. It’s loosely based on A. Conan Doyle’s The Lost World, with the addition of “King” to the title and a picture of a big scary ape on the cover to fool drunk people at Blockbuster into renting it. The box also trumpets an appearance by Bruce Boxleitner – star of Scarecrow and Mrs. King! Well, that’ll bring the kids into the tent. Anyway, King opens with a plane crashing onto an island, announcing its intentions to rip off not only King Kong and Jurassic Park but also Lost. This is confirmed when we see a stewardess trapped up in a tree. Three minutes into the movie, a giant gorilla snatches her. We won’t be seeing him again for a while.

2:00 am. Giant bug attack!

2:10 am. There’s a glitch in the DVD and I have to jump ahead five minutes, at which point maggots are being used to heal a woman’s wound. So glad I didn’t miss that.

2:25 am. Our heroes find a fighter jet with an active nuke. The mysterious Bruce Boxleitner knows how to hot-wire it.

2:40 am. Things are happening now! One dude gets impaled by a giant scorpion. The others are taken hostage by skull-face painted natives. There are boobies! And lesbian natives!

2:50 am. A flurry of terrible CGI: we’ve got pterodactyls, plus the giant ape finally returns, though he looks blurry and pixilated. (Another reason CGI must die: think about how much progress in giant robot ape technology could have been made by now.) Boxleitner reveals he was sent to disarm the nuke, which really makes no sense, especially once he explains that the bomb has a limited range of 300 yards. Anyway, they blow up the ape real good. Okay, I’m lying. It’s not real good.

3:00 am. It’s time for The Da Vinci Treasure. Here’s how you know these folks at the Asylum aren’t completely shameless: the film concerns a forensic archeologist and his search for the Da Vinci codex. See – they could have called this The Da Vinci Codex! Maybe they didn’t quite have the grapes for that (though they did make The Transmorphers, unreviewed here – I’ve got my limits too, junior.)

3:15 am. Anyway, the main players here are a haggard C. Thomas Howell as our hero Michael Archer, an earring-sporting Lance Henriksen as the villainous Dr. John Coven, and Nicole Sherwin as your typically hot linguist/theologian. Throughout the movie, director Peter Mervis (Snakes on a Train) employs an annoying effect that kept making me think there was something wrong with my DVD player. It’s a sort of freeze-frame/flash/jumpcut deal – like someone mentions Jesus, and suddenly there’s a flash of light, a whoosh, quick shots of a crucifix and the Last Supper, and then back to the scene. I guess this pumps up the excitement level, as if looking for hidden clues on the Shroud of Turin weren’t exciting enough!

3:20 am. We have our first mention of the Knights Templar! Also, the Shroud of Turin is apparently kept in the basement of the Alamo.

3:30 am. And Da Vinci invented 3-D glasses, in case you were wondering.

3:45 am. In what must be the most expensive scene in any of these Asylum movies, there is a smash-em-up car chase through the streets of London (or San Diego, whatever) involving a tour bus. Fortunately they didn’t have to pay the guy playing the Casio on the soundtrack too much.

4:15 am. Apparently I nodded off during the big revelation scene in The Da Vinci Treasure. I’m sure it changed the face of Christianity forever, but there’s no time to go back! Let’s wrap this up with an old school mockbuster to cleanse the palate, shall we? Of course I’m talking about 1988’s timeless E.T. ripoff, Mac and Me. We begin on another planet, where a family of aliens is accidentally sucked into the vacuum hose of a rover from Earth. The aliens, I guess, are meant to be cute, but to me they look like giant sea monkeys or very confused burn victims.

4:30 am. After the alien family is brought to Earth, the smallest alien, or Mysterious Alien Creature, or MAC (you see?), hitches a ride with a single mother and her two sons moving to California. They don’t notice him, but he keeps getting into mischief, and the youngest, wheelchair-bound brother Eric keeps getting blamed for it.

4:45 am. Eric plummets off a cliff in his wheelchair and is rescued by Mac. When he tells the doctor what happened, the doc diagnoses him with “schizofreakia” and decides to dope him up. Ah, the 80s.

5:00 am. Breakdancing! At McDonald’s! With Ronald McDonald and football players and – don’t take my word for it, see for yourself:

5:15 am. By now everyone believes Mac exists, and they help reunite him with his family members, who are trapped in a mineshaft out by those windmills from Rain Man. The kids nurse the aliens back to life with nourishing sips of Coca-Cola. I tell ya, this movie is Morgan Spurlock’s worst nightmare.

5:30 am. Of course, government agents are in hot pursuit of Mac, and in their attempts to capture him they manage to blow up an entire mall and kill Eric in the process. Fortunately, Mac and his family are able to suck the death right out of him. Apparently the aliens don’t hold their ill treatment by the agents against their government, as the movie concludes with the whole family becoming U.S. citizens. A final ominous title card claims “We’ll Be Back.” We’re still waiting. And by “we,” I mean “not me.” Good night.

Previously: All-Night Bigfoot Movie Marathon

CGI Must Die: 5 Reasons Why

2008-05-12T18:00:00Z

Plastic surgery is a good metaphor for CGI (a.k.a. "computer-generated imagery"): it works best when you’re least aware of it, adding value without calling attention to its glaring, unnatural fakery. A little and you’re marveling at the natural, age-appropriate sexiness of Susan Sarandon, Helen Mirren or Meryl Streep, wondering “did she or didn’t she?” with regard to nips, tucks and nose jobs. Too much, and you’re recoiling in horror at that freakish Cat Lady lady, gasping in shock over missing noses and airbag lips, or wondering why Nicole Kidman keeps wearing that creepy Nicole Kidman mask.

Hollywood has developed an unhealthy addiction to both plastic surgery and CGI, preferring the obviously fake to the convincingly real, whether in the form of grotesquely disproportionate rock-hard breasticles or pixilated atrocities like Speed Racer, the cinematic equivalent of watching other people's birthday brats play video games at Chuck E. Cheese for an endless 135 minutes.

Did Jar-Jar Binks teach us nothing? Call me old-fashioned, but I still prefer a little special in my special effects: cinematic images that make me go, “Oh my God, how’d they do that?” rather than, “Dude, that reminds me of this awesome World of Warcraft battle I just posted on YouTube!”

If you’re one of the CGI addicted who think all non-pixelated movie effects are inherently “cheesy,” consider the following clips an intervention as we here at the Screengrab present five examples of amazing movie moments that had (almost) nothing to do with computer-generated imagery.

Just about any Buster Keaton movie

See that car falling apart while Buster Keaton is driving it? See the front of that house falling and nearly crushing him? See that bridge collapsing with the train on it? All that shit actually happened in real life, not in post-production!

The Road Warrior

Why are high speed car chases with actual cars (and trucks and motorcycles and gyrocopters) better than computerized car action? Gee, I don’t know...maybe the same reason sex with an actual human being is better than internet porn?

The Thing (1982)

Sure, the shape-shifting alien action in John Carpenter’s The Thing may look as fake and unbelievable as CGI...but the viscous, tactile ooze has an icky, organic quality that's very hard to duplicate in the shiny world of greenscreen ones and zeroes.

Altered States

CGI scenes all tend to have a similar look, not unlike the legions of aging Hollywood starlets sporting “trout pout” and Spitting Image puppet faces after one too many visits to the neighborhood Botox dispensary. Directors and special effects coordinators forced to get a little more creative, however, may come up with distinctive, fucked-up and memorable images like those found in this one-of-a-kind Ken Russell phantasmagoria.

Star Wars

And speaking of tactile...one word: models. The star destroyer in the opening scene of Star Wars (along with all the nooks and crannies of all the ships in 2001, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Alien) were and remain more iconic and dramatic than all the CGI pod-racers, Naboo royal cruisers or Trade Federation frigates the computers at Skywalker Ranch have ever rendered.

Don’t get me wrong. CGI has achieved some amazing things: the bullet-time sequences in The Matrix, Gollum and that buck naked Angelina Jolie in Beowulf. But enough is enough, people. It’s time for Hollywood to go cold turkey.

For the betterment of all humanity...CGI Must Die.

Mike Tyson Speaks: Lend Him an Ear

2008-05-12T17:00:00Z

“I love addicts. I love these guys. That’s the people I want to be around. You know, former users. And I think that’s really crazy.”That's Mike Tyson talking to Tim Arango in The New York Times. Now 41 and, one assumes, or maybe hopes, Tyson still has his own peculiar addictions, and one of them seems to be to the filmmaker James Toback. Tyson supplied Toback with the most memorable scene of his 2000 improvisational jam session Black and White when he turned up as himself in a party scene and gets cruised by Robert Downey, Jr., a scene that ends with the unnerved Tyson ("I'm on parole, brother, please") ringing Downey's bell. (After Downey goes down, Brooke Shields, playing his wife, rushes over to see if he's all right, and then she hits on Tyson. "“They say I raped a woman,” Iron Mike tells her politely. “They put me in the penitentiary. I don’t need no white bitch coming on to me.” At the time, there was some indication that Tyson was unhappy with how he came across onscreen and felt that Toback had set him up--not an unreasonably paranoid reaction to Toback, a self-styled provocateur who likes to surround himself with celebrities and stir up some shit. But Tyson came back for an appearance in Toback's little-seen When a Man Loves a Woman, and now he's the star of Toback's new film, a documentary simply called Tyson, "which interposes interviews of Mr. Tyson conducted last year while he was in rehab, with fight clips," and which premieres at the Cannes Film Festival.

“I look at it now, and I’m embarrassed I did it,” Tyson, currently trying to keep a low profile in Las Vegas, says about the film. “There’s a lot of information people didn’t need to know.” His claims to feel shame over his past is believable. But Tyson, who spent the first half of his career easily dominating his opponents in the ring (and the second half showing a complete inability to deal with it when he could no longer easily dominate, so that he'd do anything--go down fast, aim below the belt, turn cannibal--to just make it stop) now seems to be a glutton for this kind of punishment. (He's also working on an autobiographer with a professional ghostwriter.) This focus on sifting through his past may not be entirely based on his having nothing else to peddle. He may be hoping to educate himself. “I don’t know who I am,” he told the Times. “That might sound stupid. I really have no idea. All my life I’ve been drinking and drugging and partying, and all of a sudden this comes to a stop.” Maybe that's why he likes hanging around Toback, who recalls that when they first met back in the 1980s, “somehow the subject got on to madness. I told him about an LSD experience I had as a sophomore at Harvard. We talked about losing the self, and the difference between dread and fear.” (It's too bad that Toback's movies aren't more like his interviews.) Why Toback wants to be around Tyson, in good times and bad, is less mysterious. “I didn’t know how to be any other way," Tyson says now about his free-spending, sometimes lunatic-seeming behavior when things were good, or at lest profitable. "I felt like one of those barbarian kings just coming to conquer the Roman Empire. I was crazy.”

Trailer Review: My Winnipeg

2008-05-12T16:00:00Z

Of all the movies I wasn’t able to see at last year’s Toronto Film Festival, one of my biggest regrets was missing the latest film by Manitoba’s mad genius Guy Maddin. Of course, only part of my regret has to do with the film itself- it would have been a blast to see it narrated live by the director, who has always been a fascinating character. But the film itself, which has received almost unanimously positive reviews, should be more than compelling enough on its own. Like many of his earlier works- in particular Tales From the Gimli Hospital, Cowards Bend the Knee, and Brand Upon the Brain!- Maddin appears to be re-imagining his own childhood here through a prism of frenzied Freudian melodrama and wicked, film-saturated satire to create an unmistakably Maddin-flavored cocktail. Nice to see Ann Savage, the infamous “dame with claws” from Detour so many years ago, turn up again here as the Maddin family matriarch. I’m not sure how all of this strangeness- like a “man pageant” just around the corner from Sissy Boy Slap Party- but I’m eager to find out.

List-o-Mania: “Ten Bad Dates with De Niro”

2008-05-12T15:30:00Z

You know we love our lists here at the Screengrab (tune in later this week for the 10 Greatest Colostomy Bags in Movie History), but even we bow before Richard T. Kelly, creator of Ten Bad Dates with De Niro. First Kelly edited the book of that name, subtitled A Book of Alternative Movie Lists. It’s chock full of great ideas for us to steal, from “The Mighty Apoplexies Of Pacino – Ten Scenes Where ‘Shouty Al’ Shows Up” to “Capital Offences – Ten Places You Wouldn't Expect To Find A Severed Head.” It’s also got some guest stars we haven’t been able to nab so far. Mike Figgis (Leaving Las Vegas) weighs in with “A Surprising Intimacy – Ten Films That Have Interesting Sensuality,” while the Coen Brothers offer up “Ripe For Remake - Five Films We’d Like To See Remade.” (Among their choices is Koyaanisqatsi: “We have not seen the original but suspect it could be interestingly remade with Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher.”)

The book was only the beginning, however – Ten Bad Dates with De Niro is also a blog, complete with daily lists! Well, that’s the claim anyway; in reality, the last list was posted on February 15th (10 Favorite Roy Scheider Roles). Still, there are some items of interest to be found. For instance, “Lights! Camera! Vomit! 10 Great Up-Chucks.” We can go along with Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life edging out The Exorcist, but I’m not sure we would have thought of Husbands: “John Cassavetes somehow ennobles on screen vomiting, thus making a mockery of the genre. Still he also manages to make it kind of funny.” Truly, this is the essence of cinema.

Speed Racer Bombs! Screengrab Two For Two!

2008-05-12T15:00:00Z

So, according to Perez Hilton, the $100 million jalopy Speed Racer is the "first bomb of the 'summer' box office season," with a dismal $20 million take over the weekend...and some insiders are voicing doubts that it grossed even that much.

Woo-hoo! Sad news for the Wachowski Brothers, Emile Hirsch, Christina Ricci and Chim Chim the monkey, perhaps...but it does mean we here at the Screengrab currently have a perfect batting average with regard to our predictions for the Top 5 Hits and Misses of the 2008 Summer Movie Season.

Speed Racer was #4 on our "Miss" list, and the gazillion-dollar grossing Iron Man was #4 on our "Hit" List. The only dark cloud on our prediction horizon is the recent bad buzz about our #3 "Hit" pick.

Considering the disappointments of Temple of Doom and The Last Crusade, my own expectations of Crystal Skull are already, shall we say, pretty well managed...but it remains to be seen whether or not the bad buzz translates to disappointing box office when Indiana Jones premieres on May 22.

Indiana Jones and the Internet Critics' Pre-emptive Strike: Ain't It Cool News Sandbags Spielberg and Co.

2008-05-12T14:30:00Z

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull makes its official debut with a press screening at the Cannes Film Festival on May 18, four days before it opens wide theatrically. The picture has been immersed in a protective bath of secrecy; Steven Spielberg likes his intended surprise to, you know, surprise. But, perturbingly enough, the first reviews have started trickling in, thanks to that bastion of cutthroats and jacka;s known as the Internets. The initial "quick reaction" was posted to Ain't It Cool News last Thursday evening by "ShogunMaster." The spoiler-heavy review reports that Harrison Ford "has a few lines that work and a million that don't", trashes the other performers, laments the last of tension or suspense "During the whole of the movie, there was not a single moment that I thought our hero ... was in any sort of peril or even significant inconvenience. In most cases, you were so many steps ahead of the characters that it was really just an arduous wait for them to get through it.. He just never shows signs of worry or distress."), and sums up the proceedings with the judgement that this is "the Indiana Movie that you were dreading."

Not having seen the movie ourselves, we have no way of verifying these claims, but the truest thing in the review (which has since been joined on the site by what Michael Cieply describes as "two other less critical, but less than sparkling, reviews") is probably its author's admission that "it doesn't matter what I say, you will see this movie regardless." Still, you have to wonder who the fellow is and how he managed to be one of the first people on Earth to see the movie. Now Cieply reports that "ShogunMaster", "reached via the Web site, said he is a theater executive who saw the film at an exhibitors’ screening this week." Cieply notes that "Such screenings are required in about two dozen states that have laws against blind-bidding, a practice in which theater owners were once asked to bid on films they had not seen. As a practical matter, there is little or no actual bidding in the contemporary theater business, which relies instead on negotiations between distributors and theater owners. But distributors continue to hold screenings for theater company executives in the weeks before a film’s release, whether as a courtesy or as a way to avoid conflict with a patchwork of state laws. Theater executives may have an incentive to play down a movie’s prospects after such a screening, to get better terms." If that's what ShogunMaster is all about--trying to dampen the perception of public enthusiasm for a sure-fire hit as a negotiating ploy--then Ain't It Cool News' participation for the sake of a scoop might threaten the good name of on-line film criticism, if it had a good name. As everybody keeps reminding me, it kind of doesn't, but still!

The Screengrab Highlight Reel: May 3-9, 2008

2008-05-09T21:30:00Z

This was the week that was at the Screengrab:

We offered free career advice to the 21st century Steve McQueen and Ali MacGraw, Scarlett Johansson and Ryan Reynolds.

We watched Nicolas Cage, Michael J. Fox and Bruce Willis debase themselves in the Five Most Embarrassing Celebrity Commercials.

We compared two versions of The Thomas Crown Affair, two versions of Lolita, and the two faces of Aaron Eckhart.

We climbed The Towering Inferno and floated down the Apocalypse Now river.

We saw a naked Bo Derek drenched in honey and milk in Bolero, the latest entry in the Unwatchable series of 100 worst movies ever.

We expressed concern for Christina Ricci, hailed Jonathan Pryce and looked forward to seeing Bardot’s ass in high definition.

We told you about the 12 Greatest Movies Based on TV Shows and you told us we forgot about Serenity. Sorry about that.

And finally, we got sweet, sweet revenge.

What a week, no?

Take Five: Sweet Revenge

2008-05-09T21:00:00Z

Responding to criticism that a review of his had unfairly given information about the ending of a thriller, the late film critic Gene Siskel is said to have replied: "Here is the ending of every thriller ever made -- the bad guy dies." So when, in this week's Take Five, we talk about revenge thrillers, we're not talking about movies where some power-tool-wielding misogynist more or less accidentally gets it in the neck after two hours of tormenting co-eds and/or mapless vacationers. We're talking about movies like Xavier Gens' Frontiers, opening in limited and highly disgusting release this Friday; movies where evildoers show up at the doorstep of innocents only to have the tables turned upon them fairly early on; movies where, for at least a third of their running time, the bad guys aren't in control, and the thrills come from wondering how far those who have been wronged will go to get even. While the revenge flick has a pretty shoddy history, and while Frontiers doesn't look like it's going to bring much more than grosser-than-usual levels of violence and some hamhanded political commentary to the mix, not every movie in the tables-get-turned genre is an exploitative dud. The concept may have reached its nadir with flicks like I Spit On Your Grave, but that doesn't mean you can't savor a pretty tasty dish served cold from time to time.

KEY LARGO (1948)

One of Hollywood's first, and finest, attempts at subverting the conventions of the innocent-people-beseiged-by-evil chestnut was this powerful, terrifically acted quasi-noir. When exiled gangster Johnny Rocco holes up in a Florida resort to wait out a storm, after which he looks to make a triumphant comeback, he doesn't count on two things: the presence of embittered but hard-as-iron vet Frank McCloud (played with icily ironic contempt by Humphrey Bogart) and his own terror at a coming hurricane. As the movie progresses, Edward G. Robinson turns from utterly unflappable master manipulator (as in his famously cruel scene with alcoholic gun moll Claire Trevor) to cowering paranoiac, and the desperate sense of terror is ratcheted up to unbearable levels by director John Huston, at the peak of his powers.

THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (1972)

Wes Craven announced his arrival as a forced to be reckoned with in the world of horror with this, his feature film debut. Too cheap, too raw and too frankly disturbing to entirely escape the exploitation-flick label, this direly unnerving story about a gang of hoodlums who opportunistically murder a pair of teenage girls only to find themselves, a short time later, staying at the home of the father of one of their victims, has far more going on emotionally, dramatically and philosophically than you might expect. But even if it were just cheap horror, it would be one of the most effective cheap horror films of its era. Powerful, creepy, and almost unbearably tense. Bizarrely, Last House on the Left is based on Ingmar Bergman's masterful medieval drama of 1960, The Virgin Spring!

THE VIRGIN SPRING (1960)

Tellingly, this would be the last of a fertile period in the legendary Swedish director Ingmar Bergman's career where he explored his characters' relationship with God. He'd never make another movie like it, and though it netted him an Oscar for Best Foreign Film, its shockingly open depiction of rape and revenge caused waves of controversy at the time of his release. Bergman's favorite actor, Max Von Sydow, gives one of the best performances of his career as the father of a young girl who is attacked and killed by bandits who, through empty fate or inexplicable divine intervention, arrive in his home looking for charity. They find only a bloody end. Bizarrely, The Virgin Spring is based on Wes Craven's groundbreaking revenge-horror film of 1972, The Last House on the Left, through reverse time warp technology!

STRAW DOGS (1971)

Perhaps no revenge thriller in the history of cinema has been more controversial than Sam Peckinpah's brutal meditation on masculinity and cowardice. Easily as vicious and manipulative as the worst grindhouse exploitation flick, it dresses up its blackly beating heart in such undeniable artistry that it leaves even people who have seen it and assessed it time and time again not knowing exactly how to react to it. The film features Dustin Hoffman, in an emotionally exhausting performance, as a mild-mannered professor whose good nature is taken for granted once too often by local bullies; it caused incredibly extreme reactions on its release (with Pauline Kael writing one of the most memorable reviews of her long career in startled reaction to it) and continues to do so even now, nearly forty years down the road.

CAPE FEAR (1962/1991)

This effective psychological thriller, based on a terse little novel by John D. MacDonald, has been made twice -- once in a taut quasi-noir version in the early '60s by J. Lee Thompson, and once in a much darker and more provocative way by Martin Scorsese. The particular twist of both versions of Cape Fear is who, exactly, thinks revenge needs to be taken: the protagonist, Sam Bowden, thinks he needs to take revenge against Max Cady, a vicious criminal who's gunning for his family. Cady, on the other hand, thinks he's the hero of the movie -- he's the one looking for revenge against Bowden, who failed to properly defend him in court years before and doomed him to years of harsh imprisonment. The first is too little seen by modern eyes, and the second is wrongly reviled; both are worth a good look for their tense ambiguity.

Which Came First? "Poultrygeist" vs. "Blood Freak"

2008-05-09T20:00:00Z

Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead, a film directed by Troma's Lloyd Kaufman, opens in theaters this weekend. Which is kind of weird, because it already opened in New York a couple of Christmas seasons back, and then had a belated general opening last year. Apparently the always-innovative Kaufman has decided to keep opening it at periodic intervals until somebody notices. (We noticed, Lloyd. You can stop now.) What's also unusual about Poultrygeist is that, by making a film about "chicken zombies," Troma has opted to make a movie that will probably not be the worst movie of its kind ever made. With the Toxic Avenger series, Troma all but cornered the market in bad franchise films about a superhero born of toxic waste. No sorrier examination of the phenomenon of fat guys going nutzoid exists than Fat Guy Goes Nutzoid; all surf Nazis films are surpassed in lousiness by Surf Nazis Must Die. But without having seen Poultrygeist--a state of virginal innocence that I fully intend to maintain for the remainder of my days on Earth, so that it'll be a fresh experience for me if they want to show it to me in Hell--I feel confident in my belief that his film will pale in ghastliness to the immortal Blood Freak, co-directed in 1972 by Brad F. Grinter and the picture's star, Steve Hawkes. Lloyd is getting on in years and has been at this a while now, and certain things benefit from the enthusiasm of youthful amateurism.

The film opens with a monologue delivered by Grinter, seated at a desk, smoking, and creepy enough that Larry Flynt would decline his offer of a lollipop. Looking seedy and pissed off--maybe he didn't want to appear on camera but had no choice but to jump in when Brando pulled out at the last minute--he stresses the instructional nature of the passion play we are about to behold. Enter Hawkes as the burly, massive-haired Herschell, who crashes a pot party held by the well-tanned Ann (Dana Cullivan) and settles in for a good, all-night theology discussion. Unfortunately, the combined power of Ann's sultry wiles and her addictive wacky weed prove too much for Herschell, and he's soon violating his Christian vows right, left, and sideways. Blood Freak is available in an impressively bonus-packed DVD from Something Weird Video, and it would be wrong of me to give away too much of the plot even if I understood it, but suffice to say that after Herschell, his internal defenses weakened from too much free love and hemp, takes a job as a test subject for some pointy-head scientists working on an experimental turkey-breeding drugs, it's only a matter of time before crazed bloody homicides and a big papier-mache bird hand are in his future. The trailer below can give you a hint of the awful wonders that are to come in this film, which is unusual for its mixture of proselytizing for the Christian-message market and its unrestrained use of the blood pump. This is especially notable in a scene involving a circular saw, for which the filmmakers hired the services of a man with a false leg. The scene is all the more remarkable for how unconvincing it is, due to the man's agonized screaming, which is not of Actor's Studio quality. I guess that if you're making a Christian poultry zombie splatter flick on a very tight budget, you figure you can't just say to the first one-legged man who shows up at the audition, "Listen, physically you're what we're looking for, but we're going to hold out for a one-legged guy who really needs the fifty bucks and who can act!" But still...

When Good Directors Go Bad: The Darjeeling Limited (2007, Wes Anderson)

2008-05-09T19:00:00Z

Wes Anderson is something of a polarizing figure among cinephiles. For every one who believes he’s a gifted filmmaker with an irresistible comic sensibility, there’s another who finds his work too self-satisfied. There doesn’t seem to be any middle ground, and Anderson seems to be fine with this, as his style has become quirkier and more eccentric with each film he makes. For years I’ve been in the pro-Anderson camp, and I’ve often found myself defending movies like The Royal Tenenbaums and The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou against those who found them insufferable. But when I first saw The Darjeeling Limited, I had to admit that the naysayers had a point.

Still, at the time I was reluctant to write off Darjeeling as a failed effort on Anderson’s part. Yes, I didn’t respond very well to it, I wondered if my reaction was based on my disappointment at the film being somewhat less than totally awesome. I decided to give the film a little distance and revisit it after it was released on DVD, so that I might be able to approach it with some perspective. And so I watched it again this past weekend, and this second viewing mostly confirmed my initial misgivings. The Darjeeling Limited isn’t a total botch, but it’s definitely the least of Anderson’s films, and the one in which the limitations of his style really come through most clearly.

One of the most common objections that’s raised to Anderson’s work has to do with his visual style, in which he situates his characters in storybook-style tableaux. In Anderson’s films, there’s always some curious knick knack or peripheral detail at the corner of the frame. But while in previous films, all of these sly little jokes added up to create convincing and original environments for the characters- remember the underwear painting in Eli Cash’s house?- here they just become oppressive. Anderson and production designer Mark Friedberg let their imaginations run wild in creating a colorful version of India, but the small bits of design business don’t really add up to anything, so instead of creating a delightful world for the film, the style instead becomes oppressive, like it’s been art-directed to death.

Of course, some of this problem might have been alleviated had the world created by Anderson been populated by vivid characters, but sadly, it’s not. Darjeeling focuses on the travels of the Whitman brothers- played by Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, and Jason Schwartzman- as they venture across India in an attempt to reconnect with each other and have a shared spiritual experience. However, none of the characters is drawn with very much depth, with each being defined primarily by his quirks. Faring worst is Schwartzman as little brother Jack. Jack is meant to be a sensitive writer who is still reeling from the disillusion of a longstanding relationship (part of which we see in the film’s companion piece Hotel Chevalier), but I never felt a thing for the guy. Part of the problem is Schwartzman’s performance- perfect as he was for Rushmore, he’s not a very expressive actor, certainly not soulful enough to pull off a character who should by rights be an emotional linchpin for the film.

All of Anderson’s recent films are in some way or other about family, whether the bond is one of blood or, more commonly, a surrogate family arrangement. The Darjeeling Limited is no exception, but what it lacks is a character who stands outside the family unit, grounding the more whimsical and dysfunctional aspects of the family unit. Frankly, Darjeeling needs a character like this, because without it the story becomes a parade of quirkiness. Even Adrien Brody’s Peter, who appears most likely to become the pragmatist of the group, ends up getting caught on the wavelength of the other characters.

But perhaps most annoying is how on-the-nose certain elements of the film are. Anderson has always had a tendency to use symbolism in his work- like the shark that represents death in The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou- but never have the symbols clanged so loudly as they do in The Darjeeling Limited. For example, as if Owen Wilson’s bandaged head doesn’t make it clear enough that he’s been psychologically scarred, Anderson includes a scene in which Wilson removes his bandages in front of his brothers, looks at his scars, and says, “I guess I’ve still got some healing to do.” The train itself is pretty clearly meant to symbolize life, which Anderson makes explicit in an admittedly pretty neat scene in which various supporting characters are shown living their own lives in individual train cars. But the most egregious use of symbolism gone haywire is the use of the Whitmans’ dead father’s custom-made monogrammed baggage, which they carry along with them. The film’s climactic scene finds the boys chasing down a departing train and finally having to leave behind their baggage in order to catch it. Needless to say, the thundering obviousness of the scene is sort of insulting.

All of this is not to say that The Darjeeling Limited is without any merit whatsoever. Anderson is too talented a director to make a worthless, uninteresting film, and Darjeeling contains its share of delights. For one thing, its opening scene is brilliant, so much so that the rest of the film is all the more disappointing in comparison. In addition, the film has another of Anderson’s characteristically wonderful soundtracks, this one packed full of music from films directed by James Ivory and Satyajit Ray. However, these delights are modest compared to the film’s many faults. Hell, I haven’t even gotten around to mentioning the parallel scenes in which Wilson is taken to task for ordering dinner for his brothers, and the one where the boys’ long-lost mother (Anjelica Huston) does exactly the same thing. Hardly subtle, and sadly, all too typical of Anderson’s approach here.

Most filmmakers have a comfort zone as far as style and material are concerned, and many of the films I’ve written about so far in this series have failed because their directors have stepped too far out of this comfort zone. But The Darjeeling Limited is exactly the opposite- everything about the film resides so squarely in Anderson’s wheelhouse that it practically feels like an inside joke. I still believe Anderson is a gifted filmmaker, but if he wants to grow as an artist he needs to find new wrinkles for his style, because if The Darjeeling Limited is any indication, diminishing returns have begun to set in, which if you’re an artist is the last thing you want to happen.

Democracy in the Western: Charles Taylor on "Rio Bravo"

2008-05-09T18:00:00Z

"To the left, Wayne has always been close to a comic-book version of American power in all its swaggering crudeness. That his screen persona was neither swaggering nor crude hardly mattered." So writes Charles Taylor in the latest issue of the pinko-liberal publication Dissent. While the above statement can be taken as definitive proof that Taylor has never seen McQ, it'll stand for the performances that Taylor cites as among Wayne's best, such as those in Stagecoach, Red River, The Searchers, and the one he's here to preach about tonight: Howard Hawks's Rio Bravo. As Taylor writes, "The inspiration for Rio Bravo came from perhaps the most praised of Westerns, Fred Zinnemann’s 1952 High Noon. High-Minded Noon it might have been called. Existing for no other reason than to impart a lesson in good citizenship, High Noon was a transparent metaphor for the failure of Americans to stand up to Joe McCarthy. Hawks hated it. Narratively, Hawks felt it made no sense for Gary Cooper’s sheriff to spend the movie soliciting the townspeople’s help to fend off the killers coming for him only to prove, in the end, that he didn’t need help. Hawks was offended by the idea that a sheriff would endanger the lives of the people he was meant to protect by trying to recruit them to save his skin. So Hawks made a movie in which Wayne’s sheriff turns down the help offered him, and needs it at every turn... Part of the beauty of Wayne’s performance here is the way, even when Chance is refusing help, he never undervalues others. When Chance’s friend, the cattleman Wheeler (the inevitable Ward Bond), derides his deputies by asking, 'A bum-legged old man and a drunk—that’s all you’ve got?' Chance answers, 'That’s what I’ve got.' It’s the single best line reading of Wayne’s career. There’s a world of respect in the weight he puts on that one word, 'what,' an irreducible sense of people’s worth as individuals."

Rio Bravo's open affection for its characters--characters that we, the viewer, spend a lot of time cooped up with in small, confining spaces--helps to account for its status as, in Quentin Tarantino's terminology, one of the greatest hang-out movies of all time. Wayne's John T. Chance "is the heroic figure whose self-sufficiency inspires the others to rise above their shortcomings. But because this is a celebration of democracy, the result isn’t a race of isolated heroes but a community in which the strength of each individual buoys up everyone else. Even Chance, the strongest person in the movie, can’t do without those people." Indeed, because without Dean Martin fumbling with the last shreds of his self-respect, Walter Brennan lurching and gabbing, and Rick Nelson leading the camp sing-along, there woule nothing to watch except for Claude Akins complaining about the quality of the jail food until Wayne went back to his cell to bludgeon him to sleep, not that this wouldn't have been something to watch. As it is, it is a film that, in Taylor's eyes, "justif[ies] the idea of America." It is good to know that a film that justifies the idea of America has a scene in which Angie Dickinson appears wearing fishnet stockings.

Forgotten Films: "Night Tide" (1961)

2008-05-09T17:00:00Z

Some movies experience the theatrical-release equivalent of a still birth yet never seem to stay dead. Such is Night Tide, written and directed by Curtis Harrington and completed for release in 1961, though it didn't get full distribution until 1963. It quickly slipped into obscurity but began to be revived in the 1990s after its star, Dennis Hopper, enjoyed a comeback after wrecking the career he only started to build years after this, his first leading role in a movie. (It's since been issued on DVD with a commentary track featuring both Harrington, who died last year, and Hopper. Last week, a restored 35-mm. print was shown at the Tribeca Film Festival.) Hopper, wearing an Eminem hairdo and a sailor suit that makes him look like part of the male chorus singing behind Fred Astaire and Randolph Scott in Follow the Fleet, plays a sea-farin' man who wanders into a boardwalk carnival reminiscent of the one where Ray Dennis Steckler stopped living and became a mixed-up zombie. There he meets Mora (Linda Lawson), dark-haired beauty whose blank gaze stops the camera cold in the middle of a dolly shot. She's sitting in a beachfront hangout listening to a jazz combo, and Hopper introduces himself by asking if he can join her at her table because, from where he was sitting, he couldn't see the band. She nods yes, and in response, he sits down facing her, with his back to the musicians. It's little things like this that explain why Dennis Hopper's Smooth Moves Guide to Meeting Girls sold so poorly.

Such details as that jazz combo and several long, wordless montage sequences help to stamp Night Tide as an independent American production of the pre-indie scene, studio era. Like such early-'60s oddities as Irving Lerner's Studs Lonigan and Leslie Stevens's Incubus, the 1965 horror film starring William Shatner (and with dialogue written and performed in Esperanto), is a a faintly bohemian-flavored production with one foot in the world of traditional genre movies and one (underfunded) foot in what used to be called "personal" filmmaking. The story involves the possibility that the enticing Mora is a supernatural sea creature--a siren--who "can never have relations with an ordinary human being," though it's not clear what that has to do with her having them with Dennis Hopper. Many people have claimed to find that Night Tide itself exerts a strange, siren's-song pull, though some of us think it's like a Twilight Zone episode stretched three times its natural length and run in slow motion. Without much story or dialogue (or much means of paying for the sound recording if he had more dialogue), Harrington puts a lot of weight on Hopper, who's called on to do a lot of silent emoting--and to do it in the character of an uncomplicated, lovelorn nice guy, not the best look for him. (I mean no disrespect to Admiral Kirk when I say that when it comes to giving the audience something to stare at when not much is going on around him, Hopper, at this stage in his career, was no William Shatner.) Harrington, who had worked in experimental short films back in the 1940s, would go on to direct studio horror films, such as Games and the matched set Who Slew Auntie Roo? and What's the Matter with Helen? as well as a bust career in TV. Whether one finds it exhilarating or soporific, this early cult favorite of his will always retain its fascination as one of the missing links of indie genre moviemaking.

OST: "Fight Club"

2008-05-09T16:30:00Z

The soundtrack portion of David Fincher's 1999 cult-favorite adapatation of the pseudo-subversive Chuck Palahniuk novel Fight Club receives its fair share of praise, and justifiably so. It features great songs like Tom Waits' "Goin' Out West", terrific vocals courtesy Persian electronica songstress Azam Ali in Vas' "Svarga", a brilliant detournment of Andre Previn's main theme from Valley of the Dolls, and, of course, the stunning post-credits blast at the end of the Pixies' "Where is My Mind?". Unfortunately, you won't find any of those songs on the movie's official soundtrack release; fortunately, what you will find there -- the movie's score, perfectly realized by the Dust Brothers, is even better.

The Dust Brothers -- known to their moms as Mike Simpson and John King -- started out as Los Angeles-based DJs with a keen sampling sensibility and a knack for deftly combining the best qualities of hip-hop and rock. It was this quality that followed them throughout their successful careers producing huge hits for everyone from Tone-Loc to Hanson to Young MC to the Rolling Stones, and nowhere was it better realized than on their innovative and memorable production of the second Beastie Boys album, Paul's Boutique. But the Fight Club soundtrack -- their first full-length solo effort -- was a different animal altogether. Sounding much more like their rivals (and onetime namesakes), the Chemical Brothers, it was much more saturated in techno and electronica than most of their previous work, and given that it was meant to set the mood for one of the blackest, bleakest comedies of the 1990s, they couldn't rely on the sunny, open feel they usually brought to the hits they produced for other artists. Faced with the biggest challenge of their careers, the Dust Brothers came through like champions, putting together an insanely tense, claustrophobic record of unstoppable beats barely hemmed in by dark, sinister synthesizer buzzings and clangings, and schizophrenic ambient noises that perfectly suited the movie's nasty, crooked-grin postmodernism. In many ways, it was literally the peak of their career -- they never put out another solo record, concentrating instead on production, and possibly admitting to themselves that nothing they'd ever do could possibly top the creeping death of the Fight Club score's innovative blend of dance, ambient, trip-hop and drum 'n' bass mayhem.

BEST TRACKS: The third track on the album ("What is Fight Club?", often referred to as the "Fight Club Theme") is the standout of an excellent album, with a simple, relentless beat pushing forward unsparingly as a wobbling, unnerving synth line drops in and out of view around it -- in its own way, the track is as perfectly representative of the film as can be imagined. The epic album opener, "Who is Tyler Durden?", is almost as iconic, with a slashing dance drum line being undercut, interrupted and cruelly undermined by a titanic use of samples; the two tracks together (even though they're seperated in sequence by the less impressive "Homework") are a killer one-two punch. Later in the record, keep an ear open for the massive, crushing "Medulla Oblongata" and the deadly tandem of "Stealing Fat" and "Chemical Burn".

Trailer Review: The Happening Full Trailer

2008-05-09T16:00:00Z

Just last week, we predicted that M. Night Shyamalan’s The Happening would be one of the summer’s biggest flops. But Night’s not going down without a fight. As always, Shyamalan has followed a tantalizing teaser with an equally promising trailer, one that firmly establishes the premise for the film while leaving us guessing where the movie might go. If nothing else, the director’s visual sense is as assured as ever. But then, has the directing ever really been the problem with Shyamalan’s films? For me, the problem has almost always been in the fact that after a promising setup, he tends to have trouble ending his films in a satisfying manner, either because he feels the need to include a “twist” or because he just can’t figure out where to go. Still, I hold out hope for Shyamalan and for The Happening, and wonder if this might be the movie where he finally manages to stick the landing again.

Turning the Anime of the Past into the Bad Movies of Tomorrow

2008-05-09T15:30:00Z

Scott Bowles reports that the opening of the Wachowski brothers' Speed Racer may herald an exciting new wave in rehashed entertainment: already, Hollywood is snatching up the rights to anime properties, just in case that Iron Man opening weekend was a fluke and the bottom is about to fall out of the superhero market. On the horizon: Hollywoodized versions of Akira and Ghost in the Shell (that last one to be directed by Steven Spielberg) and M. Night Shyamalan's movie adaptation of the anime-style Nickelodeon series The Last Airbender. Anime itself has been a cult object in the U.S. going back some fifteen to twenty years (back when we used to call it "Japanimation" around the college dorm, on the occasions when we'd been away from out bongs long enough to approach words of more than three syllables), but unless you count the Pokemon films, it's never really crossed into the major markets. As Zac Bertschy of Anime News Network puts it, "Generation X is very familiar with anime. But if you're not in that age group, there may be a learning curve."

That which Hollywood cannot make a buck on in its pure form, it will attempt to absorb and recreate in its own image. The Wachowskis may well placed to wield the hammer in forging a live-action/CGI anime hybrid because they're already understood to speak the fans' language. Based on the influences shown in The Matrix, they're recognized as fellow "fanboys" who have an investment in the genres they play around with rather than vultures trying to cash in. ("You know they still play Dungeons and Dragons?" says Speed Racer star Cristina Ricci, with what I hope is a touch of awe in her voice. "You'll be sitting around on set, listening to them go on and on about why they hate the concept of time travel.") In the words of their erstwhile producer Joel Silver, "They aren't smirking when they made this." That might not be the best news in the world; it wasn't exactly a lack of self-seriousness that brought the Matrix sequels crashing down to Earth. One hopes that the brothers have regained a sense of playfulness along with their way-cool "computer world" of this film. ("It was a little like living in the Matrix." says star Emile Hirsch. For some of us old farts, reading lines like these is a little like re-living the publicity campaign for TRON.) If Speed Racer crashes badly enough to chill Hollywood's interest in anime, where will the suits turn instead? Movies based on breakfast cereal box tops? Mentos commercials? Maybe I shouldn't have taken the blue pill...

John Waters + Johnny Knoxville + Parker Posey = Fruitcake!

2008-05-09T15:00:00Z

What with the new Broadway version of his 1990 Johnny Depp vehicle, Cry-Baby, and the hit film of the hit musical of his 1988 indie hit Hairspray keeping him busy, John Waters hasn’t had a chance to actually write and direct a new movie since 2004...and considering said movie was A Dirty Shame and the one before that was Cecil B. Demented, I haven’t exactly been holding my breath.

But Perez Hilton blogged Thursday that Johnny Knoxville and Parker Posey are now attached to Waters' next project, the Christmas comedy Fruitcake.

According to Perez and THR.com, the film (originally set up at Waters’ alma mater, New Line) is being produced by Killer Films, That Is That Productions and, possibly, ThinkFilm. The plot has something to do with “a boy named after his favorite dessert” who “runs away from home during the holidays after he and his parents are caught shoplifting meat, then meets up with a runaway girl raised by two gay men and searching for her birth mother.”

After more than four decades in the film business, it’s astonishing how amateurish Waters’ recent cinematic output has been, but here’s ho-ho-hoping the Christmas motif of Fruitcake will inspire him to raise the bar at least as high as Pecker (1998), arguably his last truly coherent film.

At the very least, Waters' talk-show P.R. tour should liven up the holidays considerably...so, God bless us, every one!