The Screengrab : eddie murphy

Unwatchable #36: “Daddy Day Camp”

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 13 May 2009 19:30:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Or is he? Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

I’ve got good news and bad news, Unwatchable fans. The bad news you probably already know. There’s no way I’m going to be able to complete my march to the top of the IMDb Bottom 100 list before the Screengrab shuffles off this mortal coil. The good news is that, despite this devastating setback, I am determined to complete the Unwatchable project one way or another.

Wait – that’s the good news? Well, it may not be good news for me or my psyche, but I’d hate to leave you all hanging. I’m searching for a new home for Unwatchable (make me an offer!), so be sure to check my blog frequently for updates.

There’s no time for eulogies just yet, however! Unless we’re talking about eulogies for Cuba Gooding’s career. Perhaps you dimly recall Daddy Day Care, one of Eddie Murphy’s more insipid family-friendly vehicle of recent vintage. Murphy opted out of the sequel – probably to make Norbit or Meet Dave or some other ungodly piece of shit – and the producers were left to rack their brains for a replacement. Could they possibly find an even more shameless, milquetoast, edgy-as-a-marshmallow African-American actor than Murphy has become over the past fifteen years? Who better than the star of Snow Dogs, Rat Race and Boat Trip – yes, none other than Radio himself, Cuba Gooding, Jr.

Gooding reprises Murphy’s role of affable dad Charlie Hinton, while some random fat white guy takes over for Jeff Garlin in the role of Charlie’s fat white guy friend, Phil. Having achieved tremendous success as the owners of Daddy Dad Care, Charlie and Phil face a new challenge when they take over the rundown summer camp they attended as youths. Camp Driftwood is facing foreclosure thanks to the popularity of the upscale camp across the lake, Camp Canola, run by Charlie’s childhood tormenter, Lance Warner (Lochlyn Munro).

Once the kids arrive at camp, we’re treated to two of the highest forms of humor: adorable tots who all speak like Catskills comedians, and emissions both gaseous and tangible emitting with increasing frequency from every bodily orifice. There’s a recreation of the famous Blazing Saddles campfire scene, except with belching instead of farting. But don’t worry – there’s also farting! Also vomiting, pooping, nut-punching and balloons filled with piss. All the classics! Gooding brings his usual dignity to the proceedings, which means his face is perpetually plastered with the same expression my dog sports whenever he’s left a special present hidden somewhere in the house. Speaking of which:

Previously on Unwatchable:
37. Bad Girls from Valley High
38. Chairman of the Board
39. The Invisible Maniac
40. Son of the Mask
41. Troll 2

Screengrab Predicts: The Top 5 Bombs of Summer 2009 (Part Three)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 22:00:00 GMT

And now, the bombs...though, to be honest, with no Love Guru or Speed Racer in the running, this category (with one consensus exception) is a lot more of an open race for Summer 2009, with ties in the 4th and 5th place spots pretty much decided by coin-toss...well, it was a little more scientific than that, but not by much...

5. YEAR ONE (June 19)

Nick:
Barring The Flintstones suddenly becoming fashionable again, Harold Ramis’ caveman comedy starring Jack Black and Michael Cera will sink like a stone.

Scott:
Maybe this has one good weekend in it, but I’m not seeing a lot of staying power here. If you check your list of successful cavemen comedies, I think you’ll find it’s a bit shorter than you remember.

Andrew:
Oh, I dunno...I remember at least one really good gag in Ringo Starr’s Caveman, and I expect Year One to at least double that batting average...which might be just enough to get me into an air-conditioned theater on some muggy June afternoon. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, true...

4. IMAGINE THAT (June 12)

Scott:
Imagine what? Another toothless “family-friendly” Eddie Murphy comedy larded with sugary sweet life lessons? All too easy to imagine.

Paul:
Dear Eddie Murphy,

It’s been a decade since Bowfinger. Ever since then you’ve made lousy action comedies, lousy family comedies, and computer-animated comedies in which you provide the voice of a talking donkey. Pleasepleaseplease be funny again, both for your own sake and the sake of those who remember when you could still make people laugh. Thank you.

Sincerely,
The Screengrab

Andrew:
Okay, you guys convinced me...I kinda wish I’d put this on my own list of “bombs” now...but I put Transformers in its place on my list instead out of sheer malice.

3. X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE (May 1)

Nick:
Each X-Men film has made more than its predecessor, and this prequel cost more to make than any prior series entry. The Internet leak won’t affect its business, but Star Trek – opening one week after it – will, causing Wolverine to make less than X-Men: The Last Stand and thus be viewed as a modest failure.

Andrew:
For what it’s worth, I’ve seen and dug all the other X-Men flicks, and for some reason I could give a wet fart about this one, which looks to me like the bad Halle Berry Catwoman of the series. Now maybe if there were some musical numbers...

2. THE TAKING OF PELHAM 123 (June 12)

Nick:
With little action-thriller opposition around its June 12th release date, Tony Scott’s remake may open reasonably well. Yet given how blah it looks and how little buzz it’s attracting, it should quickly disappear from the nation’s overcrowded multiplexes.

Scott:
Speaking of ruining the ’70s (see below)...a gritty, grimy little New Yawk thriller with Walter Matthau at his hangdog finest is given the Tony Scott treatment. It looks as though puffy John Travolta and his wacky facial hair have already chewed some of the scenery, but expect him to devour the rest of it when this one hits theaters in June.

1. LAND OF THE LOST (June 5)

Scott:
I have an idea. Let’s completely ruin the ’70s for those of us who spent our childhoods there! Oh wait, we’ve already done that, haven’t we? Then what the hell, we might as well turn a quirky, beloved Saturday morning staple into another crappy Will Ferrell comedy with plenty of dopey sight gags and gobs of CGI effects.

Nick:
Will Ferrell and Danny McBride are inspired comedians, but Brad Silberling’s update of the 1970s TV show seems like the latest action-comedy hybrid destined to be neither exciting nor amusing. Expect a big-time bomb.

Paul:
Who is this movie for, exactly? Will Ferrell isn’t the box-office juggernaut he once was, and the ticket buyers who yearn for him to deliver Ron Burgundy-style laughs probably won’t go for the second-rate Jurassic Park-style dinosaur storyline. Meanwhile, the kids will probably be too busy watching Up and Night at the Museum 2 to care about this one. Does the original series have that many fans clamoring for a big-budget version of the story? I highly doubt it.

Andrew:
I have to say I actually feel bad about Land of the Lost winding up as our runaway number one consensus pick for top bomb of the summer, since I’m a fan of the original TV series and I have every intention of going to see the Will Ferrell version...and yet, my colleagues all make excellent points, plus the promotional stuff has a distinctly low-rent, Brendan Fraseresque feel to it...on the other hand, I wouldn’t be completely surprised if this one bites us on the ass, prediction-wise, and turns into a surprise hit...oh, wait, the budget was $100 million? Uh...never mind.

Click Here For The Hits (Parts One & Two), The Toss-Ups (Part Four) and The Honorable Mentions (Parts Five & Six)

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Nick Schager, Scott Von Doviak, Paul Clark

Eddie Murphy, "Dreamgirls" Director to Collaborate on Richard Pryor Biopic

Phil Nugent — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 20:30:00 GMT

It's been reported that Eddie Murphy is prepared to waive his usual fee for the chance to play Richard Pryor in Is It Something I Said?, a biopic of the late comic that's being planned by Bill Condon; Condon's last movie, Dreamgirls, earned Murphy the first Oscar nomination of his 25-year-old movie career. It's not the first time that Pryor and Murphy's names have been uttered in the same breath. In the early 1980s, when both men were at the height of their box office appeal, the freshly hatched Murphy was featured on the cover of People magazine alongside Pryor and often described as his comedic heir, and in 1989, the two co-starred in Harlem Nights, the only movie that Murphy has ever directed. Pryor himself took directing credits on two features: his final stand-up performance feature, the 1983 Here and Now, and the autobiographical Jo Jo Dancer...Your Life Is Calling, in which Pryor played a comedian who rises from being the son of a Peoria, Illinois prostitute to a rich and beloved celebrity entertainer who can't manage his love life or his taste for addictive substances. A shapeless mess that restages, to diminishing returns, many scenes from Pryor's life that he had already turned into comic gold in his stand-up act, the movie is perhaps most notable for portraying the calamitous 1980 event when Pryor suffered life-threatening over more than half his body, as a suicide attempt, with Pryor's character lighting himself on fire after dousing his clothes with rum. Pryor's injuries had been officially reported as having been the result of a freebasing accident, but some ten years after Jo Jo came out, Pryor, in a book and in interviews, would describe it in much the same way it was shown in the movie. By that time, the comic had been physically waylaid by multiple sclerosis.

The idea that Eddie Murphy is the best possible fit for the role of Richard Pryor may be one of those ideas that seems so obvious that the first thing that should be done with it is to re-examine it. Even back when the two of them were sharing magazine covers, it was clear that they had little enough in common in terms of presence, image, shared experiences and preferred subject matter that the talk of Murphy as being "the new Richard Pryor" seemed redolent of a bygone era when it was thought that America could only handle one black superstar in any particular medium at a time. Whatever was going on in his personal life, there was always something childlike about Richard Pryor, whereas Murphy could credit his fast rise to the fact that, even when he was barely out of his teens, there seemed to be a forty-year veteran of the Vegas club circuit inside him. In the age of Reagan and Rambo, he had his biggest success in what were essentially action pictures (48 Hrs., Beverly Hills Cop and its sequel) in which he functioned as both the gun-waving hero and the wisecracking comic relief; he may have been willing to double as a thief (in 48 Hrs.) or dress down (in the Beverly Hills Cop movies) if it would help audiences relate to him as an "underdog", but he was still an authority figure at heart, compared to Pryor's eternal outsiders. In this week's "Random Roles" feature in The Onion, Margot Kidder says that the key to the much-married Pryor's great appeal was partly his "vulnerability"; that's not a quality that ever turned up much in Murphy's character descriptions.

Pryor himself had a long-cherished, off-and-on plan to star in a bipic about Charlie Parker, who would eventually be portrayed by Forest Whitaker in Clint Eastwood's Bird, which came out in 1988, around the same time that Pryor's movie career wa winding down. (Pryor's last starring role was in the 1991 Another You. He later contributed cameo roles to two movies, Larry Bishop's 1996 Mad Dog Time and David Lynch's 1997 Lost Highway, made after M.S. had him firmly in its grip, which might not have been the greatest idea in show business history.) We'll never know whether Pryor, under ideal laboratory conditions, would have been able to get far enough outside his own very powerful persona to convincingly play Charlie Parker, though another lacerating stand-up comedian, Dick Gregory, gave a performance, as a character based on Parker in the 1967 Sweet Love, Bitter, that compares quite favorably to the one Whitaker gave in Bird. One thing that Pryor, Gregory, and Parker had in common was that they had all spent their young adulthood struggling to make it in a tough business; it's no insult to Murphy's talent or imagination as an actor that, having achieved superstardom at twenty on Saturday Night Live, he may not be able to really imagine what drove someone like Pryor, who worked him way up from performing in strip clubs and neighborhood bars to mainstream success in Vegas and on TV, only to dynamite and rebuild his career from scratch because he felt that his early success was a betrayal of what he really knew. There's also the fact that, at 47, Murphy is already much closer to being the age where Pryor's career began rolling itself up than the point at which he was firing on all cylinders and shooting off sparks. I'll keep my fingers crossed, but I'd be more interested in seeing him played by someone like Dave Chappelle--someone who's not just funny and talented, but whose concept of show business success has traps and demons in it.

Trailer Review: Imagine That

Paul Clark — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 17:00:00 GMT

The career of Eddie Murphy strikes me as one of the bigger missed opportunities in recent Hollywood history. Here’s a guy who had seemingly boundless potential- capable of being both bitingly-funny and old-movie-star charming, he’s got what studio executives call “across-the-board appeal.” Yet he practically seems allergic to making solid career choices. There was some hope a few years ago that his supporting role in Dreamgirls might portend some further artistic growth for Murphy, but alas, it wasn’t to be (ahem, Norbit). So it seems like we’re stuck with the same two Eddie Murphy vehicles until the end of time- scatological makeup-heavy comedies (should we consider Rick Baker an enabler?) and shticky kids’ movies. This one falls into the second category, and as far as movies like this go, this one looks OK, although Murphy appears to be doing the same old routines again, and the premise- awwww, the career-driven single dad gets more successful at work by spending time with his little girl- would be cloying and far-fetched even without the magic blanket. Still, I can’t help but wonder what kind of work Murphy might be doing if he wasn’t so damn afraid of stepping out of his comfort zone.

Your 2008 Razzie Nominees

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 16:30:00 GMT

Getting the jump on the Oscar nominations by 24 hours, the contenders for this year’s coveted Golden Raspberry Awards have been announced. It should come as no surprise that The Love Guru leads the pack with seven nominations, including Worst Picture, and Worst Actor (Mike Myers). (The Love Guru has already suffered the disappointment of being named the Screengrab’s Worst of the Year, so this should be a cakewalk.)

Check out the major nominees after the jump.

WORST PICTURE

Disaster Movie
The Happening
The Hottie and the Nottie
The Love Guru
Meet the Spartans

WORST ACTOR

Mike Myers (The Love Guru)
Eddie Murphy (Meet Dave)
Al Pacino (88 Minutes and Righteous Kill)
Mark Wahlberg (The Happening)
Larry the Cable Guy (Witless Protection)

WORST ACTRESS

Jessica Alba (The Eye and The Love Guru)
The Cast of The Women
Cameron Diaz (What Happens in Vegas)
Paris Hilton (The Hottie and the Nottie)
Kate Hudson (Fool’s Gold and My Best Friend’s Girl)

The Worst Career Achievement award goes, of course, to Uwe Boll. The full list of nominees can be found at the official Razzies site.

Strangers In A Strange Land: Screengrab’s Favorite Fish-Out-Of-Water Stories (Part Two)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 21:30:00 GMT

2 DAYS IN PARIS (2007)

I've been an Adam Goldberg enthusiast since Dazed and Confused, but if you don't appreciate the actor's neurotic, hyperarticulate humor, then 2 Days In Paris may not be your cup of Pernod. On the other hand, even Hebrew Hammer haters may find themselves charmed by Julie Delpy's performance (in a movie she wrote and directed) as the distaff half of a bi-national couple facing relationship meltdown during the titular 48-hour period. After all the France-bashing during the (still not over yet!) Bush administration, it's interesting to see Delpy's warts-and-all depiction of The City of Lights, while her lived-in, heartfelt insights into love and family breathe fresh life into the ill-used romantic comedy genre. But Goldberg is the fish-out-of-water focus here, in a performance for anyone who’s ever been sick and disoriented on vacation while desperately wishing for the comforts of home.

COMING TO AMERICA (1988)

Probably Eddie Murphy's finest moment. Also, one of those big box office-y 1980s comedies — like Back to the Future — that, while seemingly silly, get at the very heart of America. Hard to say how much of it is intentional but damn it, it works. Eddie Murphy doesn't just star as the pampered Prince Akeem of Zamunda ("The royal penis is clean your highness"). He also wrote the story. One imagines his train of thought went something like this: if the enslaved Africans brought to America were once kings and queens, then what would an African king seeking a wife in Queens think of America? Natch, hilarity ensues.

THE LAST MOVIE (1971)

The director-star Dennis Hopper's follow-up to Easy Rider (1969) begins with a Hollywood crew shooting a Western in Peru. Hopper plays Kansas, a stunt man who continues to hang around after the movie wraps. The film is insanely overedited, and Hopper the auteur got more than a little carried away with the possibilities of movies within movies and illusion versus reality games. To the degree that the movie has a plot, it seems to involve the Peruvians getting so excited from having watched the moviemakers at work that they build their own (non-functioning) cameras and other equipment out of bamboo and use them as an excuse to stage violent scenes, which in turn may be real. Hopper himself seems to have rendered the movie unintelligible because, out there on location, he got so into the heady atmosphere (and, it's said, some of the local mushrooms) that he couldn't stop tinkering with his baby, cutting and re-cutting it and throwing more and more monkey wrenches into its motor. His movie about the deranging effects of a clash of cultures thus also became an example of it. Luigi Pirandello would be proud. Jeff Spicoli might want to tip his hat, too.

THE THIRD MAN (1949)

Strangers in a strange land is something of a pet theme of Graham Greene, whether he's charting the course of the well-meaning but destructive title character of The Quiet American in Indochina or the crooked international financier of "Across the Bridge" who finds himself stranded in a dusty Mexican town. This classic may serve as his most enduring movie exploration of his mixed feelings about the good man -- in this case, American pulp Western writer Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) -- who thinks he's being a nobly stalwart hero when he's really just in way over his head. Martins arrives in Vienna after World War II, at a time when the city is divided into zones ruled over by representatives of four different countries and corruption runs rampant, only to be informed that the friend who summoned him there, Harry Lime (Orson Welles), was recently killed in a lorry accident. Naturally, Holly recognizes that something must be up and raises hell trying to find out what it is, until his friend, who faked his death to evade the consequences of his horrible crimes, comes out of the shadows and threatens his life. It would seem that Holly has been running himself ragged to avenge the death of a man he hadn't known at all. But the girls in Heavenly Creatures had his number.

PEPE LE MOKO (1937)

The strangers here are multiple: there's Pepe himself (Jean Gabin), a mythical French criminal hiding out in Algiers' Casbah, the police detectives sent over to track him down after his many successful years of hiding, the visiting woman Pepe seduces with a combination of his criminal allure and knowledge of an area off-limits to tourists, and — not least of all — director Julien Duvivier and his crew. Pepe Le Moko isn't entirely location-based, but there's very real exterior footage — especially in the opening sequence above — frequently from cameras far shakier and more obviously documentary and on-the-fly than most '30s narratives would allow themselves. Pepe is some kind of classic, at least in part because its relationship to its status as colonial filmmaking is constantly unsettled. "Algiers isn't Pigalle" announces a local cop before giving an overview of the area — including people "descended from barbarians, honest traditionalists but a mystery to us." Pepe's more at home with the natives than the French authorities pursuing him, and not in a way that's condescending or self-conscious either. Rough filmmaking at times, but containing more ideas than most movies know what to do with. Many of the same locations were used for The Battle of Algiers, if all that isn't weird enough for you; those traditionalists wouldn't remain a mystery for much longer.

ACE IN THE HOLE (1951)

Albuquerque. NM: into town comes a man so urbane he reads a newspaper while sitting in the car he's being towed in. The man is Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas), a veteran reporter already fired from 11 metropolitan dailies. Tatum's here to give the sleepy little town the shot in the arm it needs and thereby rebuild his disgraced career, but Albuquerque won't give him the material for the yellow journalism he practices. Tatum's an urban hustler in the land of rural innocents — until a man's trapped in a cave and Tatum brings him to the world stage. Deliberately endangering Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict) by needlessly delaying his rescue for a bigger story, Tatum transforms the area around the cave into the kind of oppportunistic carnival land of free-floating capitalistic enterprise and gaudy spectacle he's used to. Buried for years after its initial brutal reception, a recent restoration and release on Criterion have brought one of Billy Wilder's greatest films back into the spotlight it deserves.

Click Here For Part One, Three, Four, Five & Six

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Sarah Clyne Sundberg, Phil Nugent, Vadim Rizov

Tom Cruise, at Midlife, with a Freaking Eyepatch

Phil Nugent — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 16:00:00 GMT

Valkyrie doesn't open until the end of the week, but the movie has already been taking a pasting, much of it in the form of open mockery of its star, Tom Cruise, so scathing that the question of just what has gone wrong with the wonder boy's career, and how might it be righted, is likely to continue for quite some time. Some people may have problems remembering that, for a very long time--we're talking decades here--it was as hard to find someone in the mainstream entertainment press or the industry itself who was prepared to question Tom's magnificence as it's been, since around mid-2005, to find someone not eager to question both his appeal and his sanity. How did it come to this? Stephen Metcalf at Slate thinks he has it figured out. He has a theory that involves a close read of the movie that made Cruise a star, Risky Business (1983), and how it played its part in saddling the now 46-year-old Cruise with an image that leaves him no room to mature as an actor. Recognizing Cruise's movie-star image as "the '80s incarnate" (and accurately summing up his acting range in four words: "bark, glare, seethe, repeat"), Metcalf recalls how Risky Business's "distinctive pathos derives from its first half, from the nocturnal weirdscape emanating out of Joel's jumbled libido. As this Joel, Cruise allowed himself to be everything the publicity team has tried to convince us, for 25 years, he isn't: insecure, sexually confused, and as Brickman's camerawork takes no pains to hide, physically small. We are meant to dislike—or at least, feel queasy—in the presence of the strutting superabundant charmer of the second half of the film, as he bursts forth from, and destroys, the chrysalis of Joel Goodsen. When Joel's parents go on vacation, he teams up with Lana to bring his horny friends together with her scheming colleagues, and in Joel's transformation (into a pimp, but also into Tom Cruise), we see the emergence of the '80s as the '80s."

"The '80s," writes Metcalf, "did for money what the '60s did for sex. They told a miraculously tempting lie about the curative powers of disinhibition. It took AIDS, feminism, and sociobiology a while to catch up to our illusions about free love. It has taken cronyism, speculation, and manic overleveraging a while to catch up to our illusions about free money. Now that Ponzi capitalism is collapsing in on itself, the perverse disjunction, of saying 'what the fuck' and thereby securing your 'future,' is simply no longer tenable." What this has to do with the Tomcat and his present situation, is that "The Cruise persona, like a junk bond, was never meant to reach maturity." It is possible to agree with the broad outlines of this and still find a way to argue with many of the specifics. I think that Metcalf, perhaps infatuated with the notion that something "beautiful and authentic" was lost when Cruise found his path to public super-success, is way too inclined to give Risky Business credit for being what its writer-director, Paul Brickman, has always claimed he wanted it to be. Brickman, who at the time was best known as the writer of Jonathan Demme's Citizens Band (and who in the quarter-century since, has directed only one other movie, the 1990 dud Men Don't Leave), has made no secret of the fact that he thought he was making a movie about the power of corruption, and that the Geffen Company pressured him into changing his original, downbeat ending, in which Joel emerged less than triumphant. Working from a blueprint of one of Brickman's interviews, one can now make out what a dark, troubling piece of work it was supposed to be.

But the millions of people who loved it because they thought it was the kick-ass party movie of the '80s weren't missing anything; Brickman did agree to the changed ending, and from the evidence onscreen, whatever he felt before and after making the movie, during the all-important shooting schedule, he was less interested in realizing his cruel vision than in showing that he had the slickest, most hyped-up visual style this side of a month of MTV. No one in the summer of 1983 was wrong for thinking the movie was just what it looked and felt like: the Flashdance of suburban pimp movies. As for the sexually inexperienced, awkward, not-yet-cocky Cruise of the first half of the movie, it may be that this was not the "authentic" acting of a talented young actor playing a human being but rather the way that a cunning self-promoter knew he had to come on before he could win the audience over and make his transformation into a strutting cocksman asshole seem like a happy ending rather than a sad comment on all humanity. It's true that in every other performance Cruise would give in his golden age, he would pick up where he left off at the end of Risky Business, playing the asshole from frame one, and never looking back. It could be argued that, since the point of Top Gun and Cocktail and all the rest was to give Cruise a chance to play the asshole, it showed a kind of respect for the audience that, once he had "evolved" once and turned from sweet boy to asshole in one movie, he never really had to do it again, just as Clint Eastwood didn't pretend to be Destry and act as if his characters were reluctant to draw their guns. (For Cruise, a "prestige" acting job was something like Born on the Fourth of July, where he started out as a cocky, swaggering, pro-war asshole and then got to chance into a different kind of self-dramatizing, anti-war asshole.)

In the go-go '80s, movie heroes in Hollywood blockbusters were defined as winners. It's not just that they were different from heroes of other movie eras, who were defined by their rebelliousness or their romantic charm or their inclination to question society or whatever, but that, at their purest, they had no characteristics besides their winningness. The Reagan years at their ripest were defined by a shiny, Crest toothpaste grin that seemed to be doing its best to hold up under tremendous, unacknowledged stress, and the biggest movie stars in those years were those who seemed dumb enough or sufficiently full of themselves to sell this. Cruise was the biggest movie star of the '80s because he was the one who best typefied the image of the Winner. He wasn't alone: Stallone was the winner with the big muscles, and Eddie Murphy, the big "comedy" star of the time, had his biggest successes in what were essentially action movies in which Murphy, when he wasn't winning by shooting people, killed time by insulting and otherwise lording it over bit players who hadn't been provided by the writers with any comebacks. (To remind you that you were watching a comedy, Murphy would frequently double over with hysterical laughter at how hilarious the movie was, meeting the audience halfway by serving as his own laugh track.)

If Cruise was bigger than his competition, it was partly because he seemed to embody these pictures more than his white-bread competition, maybe because he needed his success more than any man alive, and partly because he had no special talents or peculiarities like Murphy or the steroid freaks Stallone and his usurper Schwarzenegger. For the young dudes who bought movie tickets for themselves and their dates, he was as easy to project onto as Sarah Palin was for some trailer park mom with her hair in curlers and with two kids in her arms and one in the sink. He had no special qualities to distract the half-buzzed frat rat looking to pretend that was him up there on that screen drivin' that plane. There was a memorable moment in The Color of Money where Paul Newman tells him that he's "a natural character" and then has a good chuckle at the expense of his ignorant young sensei, who, misunderstanding, thinks that he's being paid the compliment of being told that he has character. The double-edged joke of this exchange is that Cruise wasn't even an unusual enough actor to successfully play a "character." But by then, the audience, knowing what to expect from him and what not to bother hoping for, understood that he was meant to seem like more of a live wire than usual because his hair looked weirder.

The real question is how Cruise managed to stick around so long, maintaining a pretty steady top-of-the-line career for so long that both Murphy and Stallone and flamed out and had comebacks, and Schwarzenegger went into politics, in the time it took him to experience his first real signs of career turbulence. Let alone how he earned all those good reviews--at least one critic, Georgia Brown of the Village Voice, actually got indignant back in 1990 when Daniel Day-Lewis won a critics' award instead of Cruise for having sat in that wheelchair in Born on the Fourth of July. The widespread incredulity in the face of his even having taken the role in Valkyrie is probably must greater than it would have been if Cruise's pretensions to being seen as a real actor hadn't been tolerated for so long. It's as if the world had just woken up from a collective fever, one made all the more confounding for just what they found themselves in bed with when sanity returned and the beer goggles came off. On a personal note, it kind of puts me in a funny place, because I could never stand Cruise when I was one of those college guys buying the tickets but have sort of warmed up to him since he went publicly batshit. (The movie in theaters when people started jumping off Cruise's bullet train was The War of the Worlds, and his performance in that was a lot better than some of the roles he's racked up raves and award nominations for. It was perfectly in his best range: he had to express resentment, run like hell, and convince you that he'd prefer not to be incinerated by alien death rays. And he got to share the screen with Tim Robbins, always a good choice if you want to remind people that sometimes, a "real" actor can be a hundred times more annoying than a movie star.) What next for Cruise? It may be a learning game, finding out what he can and cannot get away with now. As of 2008, the stats seem to be: Fat suit and bald wig yes, Nazi uniform and eyepatch, check please!

DVD Digest for November 25, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 15:00:00 GMT

This week, a surprisingly small selection leading into the so-called “biggest shopping day of the year.”

Recent releases coming to DVD include Will Smith and Charlize Theron in Hancock (Sony, also Blu-Ray), Vince Vaughn making a grab for your Christmas cash in Fred Claus (Warner, also Blu-Ray), Eddie Murphy inside Eddie Murphy in Meet Dave (Fox, also Blu-Ray), and Andy Samberg going from talking to animals as Mark Wahlberg to playing a talking animal himself in Space Chimps (Warner, also Blu-Ray).

In classics this week, Criterion releases two seminal nineties films, Wes Anderson’s debut effort Bottle Rocket and Wong Kar-wai’s awesome and Tarantino-approved Chungking Express. But don’t fret, Blu-Ray fans- they’ll be coming out in that format in December, so don’t cross them off the Christmas list.

In TV on DVD, this week brings the season-bridging special 24: Redemption (Fox), plus everyone’s fake wingnut in A Colbert Christmas: The Greatest Gift of All (Paramount).

Finally, this week’s Blu-Ray only releases are a Jamie Foxx double feature, Jarhead and The Kingdom (both Universal).

Morning Deal Report: “School of Rock” Rolls Again

Scott Von Doviak — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Hellboy II: The Golden Army raised hell at the box office over the weekend, taking in an estimated $35.9 million. The public’s appetite for digitally rendered Brendan Fraser proved larger than I would have guessed as Journey to the Center of the Earth garnered $20.6 million, good for third place behind Hancock in its second weekend. Eddie Murphy made Mike Myers feel better about things as Meet Dave crashed and burned with only $5.3 million, one of the worst opening weekends in the history of the Murphyverse.

Richard Linklater should really have better things to do than a sequel to School of Rock, shouldn’t he? (I won’t even suggest that screenwriter Mike White does.) Nevertheless, the director is attached to School of Rock 2: America Rocks, as is original star Jack Black as rockin’ substitute teacher Dewey Finn. Variety reports that White’s screenplay “picks up with Finn leading a group of summer school students on a cross-country field trip that delves into the history of rock 'n' roll and explores the roots of blues, rap, country and other genres.” Could be worse, I guess. Linklater could be remaking The Bad News Bears Go to Japan.

In even less surprising news, Jon Heder will play “a Napoleon Dynamite-like oddball who becomes contaminated with a substance that gives him what might arguably be considered superpowers” in Loudermilk, per the Hollywood Reporter. The comedy was pitched to Universal by Heder and his brother Doug, and will be rewritten and directed by Craig Zobel (Great World of Sound). In the funniest sentence I’ve read this morning, Doug Heder proclaims, “Loudermilk is definitely intended to set the tone for Greasy Entertainment.”

Related:
Hellboy: The Letting Go
Eddie Murphy Exhumes "Beverly Hills Cop"

Eddie Murphy Exhumes “Beverly Hill Cop”

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 29 May 2008 14:30:00 GMT

There must be some sort of misunderstanding. See, the other day I wrote about reviving another '80s action hero in the wake of successful return visits from Rambo and Indiana Jones. But I was talking about Mad Max. Some signals must have gotten crossed because I definitely didn’t mean Beverly Hills Cop.

Yet here it is in Variety: “On the heels of the successful revival of the Indiana Jones franchise, Paramount has set in motion a fourth installment of Beverly Hills Cop. Eddie Murphy is attached to reprise his role as Detroit detective Axel Foley, and Brett Ratner is negotiating to direct.”

Whose bright idea was this? Unsurprisingly, it was the star of Norbit and Meet Dave himself. “Murphy approached the studio about reviving the franchise that cemented his status as a B.O. mega-star.” With such announced upcoming projects as The Incredible Shrinking Man and Untitled Eddie Murphy/Romeo and Juliet Project, you’d think his plate would be full, but hey, lucky us. Now we can only wait and wonder if Judge Reinhold is available.

Meatheads at the Mike: The Scarlett Johansson-Leonard Nimoy Connection

Phil Nugent — Wed, 21 May 2008 17:00:00 GMT

On the occasion of the release of Scarlett Johansson's debut album, Matthew Oshinsky has assembled a handy wrap-ups of actors, or at least professional camera subjects, turned vocalists. It comes divided into categories: "the teenyboppers" (Annette Funicello, David Cassidy, Hillary Duff); "former child stars" (a category that, perhaps surprisingly, seems to be the likeliest to yield an actual recording career, along the lines of those enjoyed by Janet Jackson, Phil Collins, and Alanis Morissette); and my personal favorite, "former soap stars" (including Rick Springfield, who Oshinsky notes "was already a popular singer in his native Australia when he suddenly found himself on millions of afternoon TV screens in 1981 [on General Hospital] and learned that he didn’t know what popularity meant"). For those fully fledged adult mainstream celebrities who decide that this is their big chance to show that they've still got what they had at the high school talent show, Oshinsky favors the label "Meatheads." Here we find your Russell Crowes, your Eddie Murphys, your Steven Seagals (no shit, really!?), and Bruce Willis, whose 1987 Motown release The Return of Bruno (with backup work by Booker T. Jones and members of the Temptations) tried to hedge its bets by presenting itself as a "soundtrack" to an HBO special in which Willis pretended that he was pretending to be a legendary white soul singer on the comeback trail. He thus hedged his bets in a way that, in this specialized field, passed for clever, inviting people who noticed that his music sucked to treat the whole thing as a joke. His hideous, malformed cover of the Staples Singers' "Respect Yourself" made it to number five on the charts anyway. If I live to be a thousand, I will never understand how anyone could miss the 1980s.

Oshinsky names Jennifer Lopez and David Hasselhoff the queen and king of this niche of pop cross-pollination, noting that Hasselhoff's second album, the 1989 Looking for Freedom,” "shot to No.1 in Deutschland on the strength of the title track, which was embraced by thousands of Germans looking for something American and easy to understand." (This may be closest that anyone has ever come to describing David Hasselhoff's career as being easy to understand.) But he also knows that anything touched by William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy just has a special magic to it. "It is unknown if Mr. Shatner intended for his 1968 recording of poetry and pop covers, The Transformed Man, to be the galaxy’s funniest album, even 40 years later, but it’s a serious contender. Mr. Nimoy’s 1969 record, The Touch of Leonard Nimoy, was his fourth and last until 1995’s wistfully titled You Are Not Alone, which presumably referred to someone other than him being with us." I have no idea just what to make of the fact that the author seems to have gone out of his way to snub every crossover pin-up who earned my sister's devotion when we were living under the same roof: namely, David Cassidy's brother Shaun; John Schneider, of The Dukes of Hazzard; and David Soul, who before attaining stardom on Starsky and Hutch used to appear on talk shows singing in a ski mask so that his devastating good looks wouldn't distract viewers from admiring the beauty of his music, and whose big hit, the tender ballad "Don't Give Up on Us Baby", would be rediscovered by disk jockeys with sick senses of humor every time he was arrested again for beating up a woman. Unless I hallucinated all that, but I don't think I did. Drugs of that quality never made it into the Walthall County school system back in the day.

Unwatchable #99: “The Honeymooners”

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 17:30:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

The kernel of almost any bad movie is a really terrible idea, and at first glance it appears that 2005’s big screen version of The Honeymooners fits the bill. It reeks of a concept dreamed up in a corner cubicle at Paramount Pictures by a junior development executive desperate to hang onto his job. “I’ve got it!” he shouts, jumping up from his chair and dumping his coffee all over his never-used keyboard. “The Black Honeymooners! Eddie Murphy IS Ralph Kramden! Chris Rock IS Norton!”

Alas, the junior executive’s dream cast fails to develop, and eventually it is Cedric the Entertainer who tries to fill the Great One’s shoes, with Mike Epps as his long-suffering sidekick. As The Honeymooners opens, it is 1999 and Brooklyn bus driver Ralph Kramden (Mr. Entertainer) is putting his “Bustin’ Loose” moves on passenger Alice (Gabrielle Union). He unveils the first of his get-rich quick schemes: a Y2K Survival Kit that’s sure to make him millions when the new year arrives and everything comes crashing down.

Six years later, Ralph and Alice are married and living in a dumpy apartment. Sadly, Ralph’s anticipated global chaos never arrived, so he’s busy with new and even more ill-fated schemes while Alice works at the diner and dreams of home ownership. A little old lady is selling her duplex, which would be perfect for the Kramdens and their neighbors, Ed and Trixie Norton (Epps and Regina Hall), but a slimy developer (Eric Stolz) has his eyes on the property as well. With the help of Jon Polito and John Leguizamo, Ralph and Ed pin all their hopes on a greyhound they find half-dead in a dumpster. Can this abandoned stray win the big race, or is Ralph doomed to a life of sharing a small apartment with Gabrielle Union?

Drained of all that hilarious domestic violence humor that might prove upsetting to a modern audience (Ralph’s “To the moon, Alice!” is transformed into a lovey-dovey sweet nothing), The Honeymooners is a decidedly mediocre but good-natured family comedy that has no business being on the Bottom 100 list. Ralph says it best: “You just a regular UPN sitcom, huh, Alice?” It’s true that the comedic stylings of Mike Epps are so low-key as to be undetectable to the human eye, but Cedric the Entertainer has his effectively blustery moments. And of course, where there’s Polito, there’s quality. In the tradition of Burt Reynolds’ greatest contribution to cinema, the end-credit bloopers prove to be the movie’s high point. Still, I’ve seen at least 100 worse family comedies in my capacity as movie janitor for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, so The Honeymooners rates only a single Maury.

Previously on Unwatchable:

100. Devil Fish

The Top Ten Uncompleted Movies, Part 2

Phil Nugent — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 20:30:00 GMT

APT PUPIL

Bryan Singer's adaptation was not the first version of this Stephen King novella. In 1987, British Director Alan Bridges had Nicol Williamson and Ricky Schroder in the leads of this story concerning a teenager discovering his elderly neighbor's Nazi past. Unfortunately, the film ran over budget and with ten days of filming left, the financing ran out and the film shut down. Accounts vary of just how much was left to shoot. Stephen King had reportedly seen a 3/4 rough cut and commented it was "really good" while the writers, Ken and Jim Wheat, reported seeing an assemblage of forty minutes' worth of footage. By the time financing was found to complete the shoot a year later, Schroder had grown too too old to continue in his role and there was no way to finish the film short of a full re-shoot. To date, the footage has never been shown to the public, though if there's ever a special edition of Bryan Singer's version, one hopes that the director would be able to snag the rights to include Alan Bridge's version as a bonus feature.

IN GOD'S HANDS

It is a tragic fact that many early feature films have been lost forever due to negligence and poor preservation. What's horrifying is to find out that even in the 21st Century, an entire feature film can be lost due to an accident, especially when its not the new Eddie Murphy comedy but it comes from someone like filmmaker Lodge Kerrigan. In God's Hands was produced by Stephen Soderbergh's Section Eight outfit and starred Peter Sarsgaard and Maggie Gyllenhaal as a couple who've lost their child. Unfortunately, the entire camera negative of the film was damaged, causing it to be lost. I'm still stunned that someone on the film didn't realize something was wrong after the first few days of shooting just by checking the rushes, but the damage had been done. Kerrigan, who bounced back with Keane, has expressed no interest in trying to re-shoot In God's Hands. This is one of those cases that could be used as a backhanded argument for abandoning film to shoot digital.

THE THIEF AND THE COBBLER

This British animation has the distinction of having had the longest production phase ever. Renowned animator Richard Williams started the project in 1965, animating it part time and financing the project through the odd commercial jobs and work on other films, such as Murder on the Orient Express, The Charge of the Light Brigade, and the credit sequences on some of the "Pink Panther" films. After endearing himself to the powers that be by serving as animation director on Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Williams was finally able to get financing to complete the film, but a variety of factors resulted in its being taken away from him by Mirimax and handed over to television animator Fred Calvert. Despite numerous promises from various parties to try and complete the film according to Williams's original design, this probably won't be happening anytime soon. The original workprint of the film can be found on YouTube. The "completed" bastardisation edition can be bought from your local Blockbuster Bargain bucket, hidden under a couple hundred copies of Norbit.

MY BEST FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY

Unofficially considered by those in the know as Quentin Tarentino's directorial debut, this is a far cry from Reservoir Dogs. Shot on Super 16mm over a few years, the completed 70-minute cut was lost in a fire, and so what survives is about 30-40 minutes of rough footage. Is it watchable? It has certainly has had a cult following grow around it, and despite its technical issues, it is in, IMHO, a far more enjoyable time waster than Death Proof.

ARRIVE ALIVE

Jeremiah Chechik is one unlucky man. His second film was supposed to be a comedy featuring Willem Dafoe as a hotel manager who falls for Joan Cusack as one of the guests. It was co-written by National Lampoon and Saturday Night Live veteran and self-styled "dangerous comedian" Michael O'Donoghue and produced by Art Linson. Unfortunately after two weeks of shooting, Linson pulled the plug and wrote off a couple of million dollars. Why? Apparently, it was due to Dafoe's performance, an attempt to bring "edge" to a romantic-comedy leading-man part that Linson, in his book A Pound of Flesh, described as "terrifying". Chechik managed to bounce back with Benny & Joon before his career was nearly destroyed with The Avengers, one of those productions where 50% of the production ended up on the cutting room floor.

QUE VIVA MEXICO

This was to be Sergei Eisenstein's first film made outside Russia, co-produced by renowned American novelist, Upton Sinclair. Unfortunately, after cost-overruns and other problems, Eisenstein was summoned back to the Soviet Union by Stalin (who can refuse an invitation like that?) leaving behind over 200,000 feet of unedited footage. Despite promises to send the footage to the USSR for the director to edit, this never came to pass, and instead several different edited versions of the film have appeared under different titles over the years, most of them falling into obscurity. None of the versions come close to what Eisenstein may have wanted but the film is still inspiring people to take a shot at it. (This YouTube clip is a trailer to promote the latest attempt at a restoration from Lutz Becker).

--Phil Nugent; Faisal A. Qureshi

Click here for Part 1.

Trailer Review: Meet Dave

Paul Clark — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 16:00:00 GMT

It's a pretty hard and fast rule that if a trailer includes a bit of the hero strutting down the street to "Staying Alive" and movie being advertised isn't Saturday Night Fever, the movie is almost certain to be terrible. But then, why should we expect any more from Eddie Murphy? It's sad to see what's happened to the guy- Murphy was as funny as anyone ever was on SNL, but he has an spooky talent for gravitating toward crap that, given his popularity, he should have the clout to avoid. The premise for Meet Dave had real potential, but if the trailer is any clue then it's merely one bit of forced schtick after another. Even the title reeks of dumbing-down, as the movie was originally called Starship Dave until it was decided that the audience couldn't handle multisyllabic words. About the best thing I can say is that Murphy doesn't appear to engage in any ethnic humor here, unless of course he's the one made up to look like Elizabeth Banks. A possibility which, truth be told, I wouldn't rule out at this point. It would certainly explain the character's attraction to Murphy, come to think of it.

Tyler Perry: Representative of Black Womankind, or Minstrel in Panty Hose?

Phil Nugent — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Salon's James Hannaham grapples with a question that has long vexed the guardians of popular culture, not to mention John Singleton: what is it about black comic actors and ladies' dresses? And is the eagerness of such performers as Tyler Perry and Eddie Murphy (and such predecessors as Flip Wilson, the first black comedian with his own network variety show, which made his character Geraldine a household name) somehow a step back for racial progress? Drag has a long and distinguished show business lineage, if you're in England, where comedians both low (Benny Hill), high (Monty Python), and in between (the Australian Barry Humphries) had treated women's wear as just another weapon in their comic arsenal, but in America it's often been looked down upon; perhaps tellingly, one of the few famous comedians since the dawn of the TV age to regularly appear in drag was Milton Berle, who was legendary for two things: his willingness to put on a dress, and the oversized manly appendage that one writer referred to as "an anaconda", which must have helped protect him from any feelings that he was somehow "emasculating" himself. Some, like Singleton, and Dave Chappelle, who says that he felt "pressured" to perform in drag on his own TV show, think that emasculating black men is what black drag is all about, that it defuses their sexual identity and makes them harmless and easier to laugh at. "The black man in drag," writes Darryl James, "is one of the new coons."

One big problem with this argument is that it seems to presume that black comedians who dress as women are doing so to pander to white audiences, and the principal audience for Tyler Perry's films, and even for a subpar Eddie Murphy vehicle like Norbit, is black. As Hannaham points out, "Perry's core audience began with middle-aged black women, introduced to [Perry's character] Madea by the outrageous traveling theatrical shows that made her name. These faithful admirers, and the millions who have caught on since, still can't get enough of the character" even as others protest that "the surefire laugh-garnering power of slipping a macho Negro into chiffon doesn't represent anything but an effeminizing, racist spectacle." Perry seems to have a surer sense of what he's doing than Singleton or Chappelle, whose comments about the denigration of black men have a subtext, and sometimes just a text, expressing distaste for cross-dressing because they associate it with homosexuality. "What Chappelle and Singleton may miss out on by refusing to pimp those pumps is the dangerous fun of performing outside the constraints of race and gender. The desire to inhabit the lives and bodies of others doesn't necessarily make you a racist any more than sporting a double-D cup makes a man love men. Often it is inspired by a sense of play, and sometimes it is meant to increase understanding." Essentially, Perry means the pistol-packing, no-nonsense Madea as a comic tribute to a certain kind of black woman. Granted, good intentions aren't always enough to counteract lack of talent fortified by cluelessness: that's the message one is liable to get from examining the terrifying career of Chuck Knipp, a white "comedian" (and onetime Libertarian candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives) who dons drag and blackface to pay "tribute" to black women by impersonating a grotesque babbling figure he calls "Shirley Q. Liquor." If his fame (bolstered by performance clips on YouTube) continues to spread, Knipp will be lucky if he doesn't end up delivering his last plea for tolerant understanding to an angry mob with flaming torches. But Tyler Perry's audience — the very people who might be expected to object Madea if the character was truly objectionable — have got his back.

Lindsay Lohan in "I Know Who Razzed Me" - With Video

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 17:00:00 GMT

In all the Oscar excitement, we've neglected to recap a historic night for America's most prestigious motion picture awards — the Razzies. The 28th Annual Golden Raspberry Awards were presented — that is, if you actually present an award that nobody shows up to receive — at the Magicopolis Theater in Santa Monica, California on Saturday. Lindsay Lohan's pre-rehab thriller I Know Who Killed Me set a new Razzies record, winning in eight of the nine categories in which it was nominated. It was an especially proud night for Lohan, who managed to win two Worst Actress awards at once when her performances as twins Aubrey and Dakota received the same number of votes. But that's not all! Lohan also took home — theoretically, had she shown up — the award for Worst Screen Couple "as the yang to her own yin" in said movie.

Even Lohan's achievement paled in comparison to Eddie Murphy's unprecedented triple lutz around the remaining acting categories. Murphy took home not only Worst Actor for his lead role in Norbit, but also Worst Supporting Actor for his offensive turn as Mr. Wong and Worst Supporting Actress for letting his fat suit give the performance as the enormous Rasputina, all in the same movie. Good times! Still, it was I Know Who Killed Me reigning supreme at the end of the night, taking home the Worst Picture Razzie. If you haven't had the pleasure, here is Ms. Lohan's much-ballyhooed sleepwalk around the stripper pole, followed by some first-class hospital bed emoting. Enjoy!

Coming Soon: "Citizen Kane 2" Starring Bronson Pinchot

Phil Nugent — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Universal would prefer that you not call its forthcoming American Pie: Beta House a direct-to-video release. The preferred corporate euphemism is now "DVD Premiere." And as Brooks Barnes reports in The New York Times, studios have reconceived the direct-to-DVD release as an important, pre-planned moneymaking part of the operation. The key element here is the proper way to continue to exploit a well-established brand name to which you own the rights. A few years ago, if you got the numbers back on the fifth Police Academy movie and found that the profits had dropped off considerably from the first installments but that the damn thing was still making money, you had a clear choice: you could decide that, as George Clooney said after the release of Ocean's Thirteen, "This tree has been sapped," and spend the rest of your life having nightmares about the money that Police Academy 6 might have made, or you could suck it up, green-light yet another sequel, and bring shame and dishonor upon your family. Direct-to-DVD releases tied to a familiar title are a neat compromise solution. They don't cost as much to make or market, partly because they usually don't feature the same level of star power as the theatrical releases from which they sprang, but they still appeal to fans who have developed a Pavlovian reaction to seeing certain titles. At the same time, the films are often marketed a little more aggressively than you might expect, and the studios will try to maintain some kind of superficial linkage to the real movies. For instance, as Barnes explains, "the American Pie DVD spinoffs all feature Eugene Levy as a father figure — even though the character’s son stopped appearing after the series ended its run in theaters." This is crucial to what Craig Kornblau, Universal's President of Home Entertainment, insists on calling "the integrity of the franchise." (Barnes adds dryly, "Mr. Levy declined to be interviewed.")

This summer, Warners will embark on a little experiment in synergy when they release Get Smart, starring Steve Carrell and Anne Hathaway, and with Masi Oka of Heroes and Nate Torrence in small supporting roles, to theaters, and at the same time release Get Smarter: Bruce and Lloyd and Out of Control, starring Masi Oka and Nate Torrence, and with Steve Carrell and Anne Hathaway nowhere in sight, to DVD. Then there was Daddy Day Camp, a sort of sequel to the Eddie Murphy comedy Daddy Day Care, starring Cuba Gooding, Jr. Built to go straight to DVD, the film so impressed its studio masters that they upgraded it to theatrical release, a decision that proved a bad one for the box office, the reputations of those involved, and the planet as a whole. In general, those passing judgement on the quality of these films risk being deluded because it's only natural to go in with expectations set way below the bottom of the bar. Those not pitched at children tend to be overstuffed with gore and/or full-frontal nudity, in an attempt to make some kind of virtue out of the films' not being submitted to the MPAA ratings board. As for the more family-friendly, fanciful ones, such as the "DVD Premiere" sequels to Dr. Dolittle and Garfield...well, as Barnes delicately puts it: "Special effects in these films, while improving as a result of cheaper digital technology, often require a little more imagination from viewers."

DVD Digest for January 29, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 15:00:00 GMT

This week finds more titles from the late-summer/early-fall dumping ground coming to DVD, but a handful of gems as well.

DVD of the Week: In a slow week for classics on DVD, the most noteworthy new title is Seth Gordon's documentary The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (New Line). I wasn't allowed to have a video game system growing up, and because of this I often had to sit patiently on my friends' couches while they would finish up the games they were in the process of playing on their Super Nintendos or Sega Genesises (Genesi?) when I showed up. As such, I wasn't exactly eager to see two hours of competitive gaming, but The King of Kong quickly won me over. At heart, it's an unlikely sports documentary, with all of the drama and unforgettable characters that genre's best films contain. As the movie morphs into a de facto showdown by the reigning champ, the showboating gaming legend Billy Mitchell, and the good-guy challenger Steve Wiebe, Kong becomes uncommonly involving. Little wonder that Hollywood wants to turn the story into a feature film, but why wait for the fictional interpretation when you can see the genuine article?

It's a big week for flms that premiered at Sundance 2007, with other notable new releases this week including: Spellbound director Jeffrey Blitz's debate-themed indie Rocket Science (HBO); John August's The Nines (Sony), starring Ryan Reynolds and Hope Davis; and the terrorism-themed horror film Right at Your Door (Lionsgate). In addition, this week sees the release of the Kevin Kline sex-trafficking thriller Trade (Lionsgate), the J.Lo-produced Feel the Noise (Sony), and the direct-to-DVD offerings Canvas (Universal) and Charm School (Sony). And if you're a glutton for punishment, check out Cuba Gooding Jr. in Daddy Day Camp (Sony, also on Blu-Ray), a sequel so dire that Eddie Murphy opted out of it.

TV shows coming to DVD this week: Glenn Close in Season 1 of Damages (Sony, also Blu-Ray), the sixth season of Curb Your Enthusiasm (HBO), and Emergency! Season 4 (Universal). The only major classic films coming to DVD are El Cid, getting released in two separate editions by the Weinsteins, and the obligatory 15th Anniversary cash-grab edition of Groundhog Day, coming out just in time for... well, you know.

Finally, there's the strange case of Warner's The Invasion. The Nicole Kidman-starring SF flop was originally scheduled to be released three weeks ago, but after Warner decided to commit solely to Blu-Ray, the film's release was delayed until this week. So if those of you who read my column of January 8 (thanks, by the way) wondered why The Invasion wasn't in stock at your local video store, now you know.

The 37th Annual Razzies Nominations

Phil Nugent — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 21:00:00 GMT

The nominations for the 2007 Golden Raspberry Awards, or "Razzies" have been announced. The awards, which seek to recognize the worst in filmmaking, were created in 1980 by publicist John Wilson. In the first year of their existence, awards were presented to the Village People-Bruce Jenner-Steve Guttenberg vehicle Can't Stop the Music (Worst Picture and Screenplay), Neil Diamond (Worst Actor for his remake of The Jazz Singer, and Brooke Shields (Worst Actress for The Blue Lagoon); the Worst Director prize that year went to the director of Xanadu, Robert Greenwald, who, perhaps seeing the writing on the wall, made no more disco-roller skating musicals but instead resurfaced as a specialist in progressive-minded political documentaries. Thus have the Razzies served as a shaper of culture and careers.

One novelty if this year's event is that two performers are up for playing multiple roles in nominated films. Eddie Murphy scored a record five nominations for the Worst Picture Norbit, including Worst Actor, Worst Supporting Actor, and Worst Supporting Actress. (He's also nominated for having had a hand in the screenplay.) The thriller I Know Who Killed Me garnered nine nominations, including Worst Picture and a pair of Worst Actress nominations for its star, Lindsay Lohan; both Murray and Lohan are also, paradoxically, nominated for Worst Screen Couple for their work with themselves. Other nominees for Worst Picture include Bratz, Daddy Day Camp, and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, a movie whose trailer had repulsed moviegoers stampeding out of theaters as if a wizened prospector had announced that gold had been struck at the concession stand. The awards are traditionally announced the day before the Academy Awards ceremony. Unlike the Oscars, the Razzies are unlikely to affected by the writers' strike.

The Top Ten Action Heroes Who Deserve A Comeback, Part 1

Peter Smith — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 22:30:00 GMT

This week's top ten comes to us from guest writer Gabriel Mckee, friend of Nerve and author of The Gospel According to Science Fiction. Read his fantastic blog here.

Recent years may well be remembered for bringing back the over-the-top action hero. New sequels to Rocky, Die Hard, and Rambo have revived long-dead franchises, and the trend is continuing. Indiana Jones 4 has started filming, and a fourth Mad Max film would have wrapped by now had scheduling conflicts not led director George Miller to make Happy Feet instead. Though it's an easy trend to mock, it opens the door for other action heroes to be resurrected — here are some top candidates.

10. Scott McCoy (Chuck Norris), The Delta Force

Before he was a meme, before he was Walker, Texas Ranger, even before he was a Karate Kommando, Chuck Norris was Maj. Scott McCoy of the Delta Force. This elite antiterrorist strike force, led by Lee Marvin, consists of some thirty soldiers who are highly trained in standing around in the back of a cargo plane while Chuck Norris rides around on a motorcycle killing terrorists. Delta Force came out in the pre-Die Hard world, before we expected our action heroes to have pathos, depth or family troubles. There's not much character to this character, but when it comes to straightforward ass-kicking, Norris is the undisputed master. Norris is ripe for a Stallone-style comeback, and in the and in the age of the War on Terror, a new entry in the Delta Force saga is the perfect vehicle for his revival.

9. Axel Foley (Eddie Murphy), Beverly Hills Cop

Remember when Eddie Murphy made movies that people enjoyed? Barring Dreamgirls, his film career has been on a losing streak for over a decade, putting him just below Robin Williams on the list of actors who need to be rescued from their own careers. A return to the role of Axel Foley, the detective/con man of Beverly Hills Cop, might be the best way to ensure that Norbit never happens again.

8. Jack Carter (Michael Caine), Get Carter

Michael Caine has made a major comeback in recent years, but in most of his recent roles — in Batman Begins, Children of Men,and The Prestige, for instance — he's played the Kindly Old British Guy. It's easy to forget that he made his name playing jerks — first a heartless cad in Alfie, then a brutal-but-suave thug in Get Carter. This story of a London gangster who travels to Newcastle (Britain's equivalent of South Jersey) to investigate his brother's murder isn't as flashy as more recent tales of the U.K. underworld. But Guy Ritchie and Jason Statham nevertheless owe everything to Get Carter's blueprint and Caine's cynical performance. A return to the character of Carter would give Caine a chance to recapture both the grim violence and the effortless sexiness of one of his greatest roles.

7. Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle (Gene Hackman), The French Connection

The most successful action film of the '70s didn't star Clint Eastwood, Bruce Lee or any other established veteran of the genre. The French Connection owes much of its success to Gene Hackman's performance as hot-headed bad cop Popeye Doyle (which earned him his first Academy Award). More than just a tough guy, Doyle is a contemptible bully, and instead of an invincible supercop, his temper makes him a bit of a screw-up. Hackman is still more than capable of this kind of complexity (as proven by The Royal Tenenbaums), and it would be thrilling to see what he could do with this character after thirty-five years.

6. Foxy Brown (Pam Grier)

The 1973 film Coffy established Pam Grier as the undisputed queen of '70s blaxploitation. Foxy Brown (originally intended as a sequel entitled Burn, Coffy, Burn!) justified her ascension — whether infiltrating a high-end call-girl ring, shooting her drug-dealing brother in the ear, or hijacking a drug runner's crop duster, Foxy is "a whole lotta woman." At turns smiling and sneering, she violently opposes an oppressive society symbolized by a white-operated heroin syndicate. Grier has had a slightly higher profile since Quentin Tarantino reintroduced audiences to her charms, but it's been far too long since she's kicked ass like she did in Foxy Brown.

Read PART 2.