Tuesday, December 29, 2009

10 years of terrible movies I especially loved...

In much the same way I love critically derided music (primarily of the pop pursuasion, generally produced by Timbaland, usually featuring heavy use of auto-tune) I also particularly love Really Bad Movies. Movies starring the likes of Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Mandy Moore and Diane Lane.


SO, as we're approaching the end of a year - a decade even - and hosts of "Best of" lists abound it seemed timely to visit my "Worst of." The worst movies that I especially enjoyed (and probably purchased, downloaded the soundtrack for and recited quotes from in social situations where I thought it would annoy people...I'm nothing if not unashamed of my bad taste). Never let it be said I like "fine" art. Just art in general...the schlockier (if that wasn't a word before, it's a word now), the better.



1999:


BROKEDOWN PALACE



The premise: naive school girls go abroad. meet hot guy. inadvertently smuggle hot guy's heroine into Thailand. Or some such nonsense.

It's awful because: it takes the only box office appeal of actresses like Claire Danes and Kate Beckinsale - their good looks - and sabotages that appeal by tossing them in prison where they cower, shiver, cry and look generally dirty and degenerate.

I love it because: it asks us to take Bill Pullman seriously. As an attorney. Or father. Or some such nonsense. I stand firmly by my (brilliant) realization that absolutely any role played by Bill Pullman would ALWAYS (always) be better played by Bill Paxton. Bill Paxton borders on hunky. Bill Pullman borders on ooky. And I never got tired of watching pretty girls looking horrible on screen, eating their own fingernails or getting led off to their own execution. Great fun.



NEVER BEEN KISSED


The premise: Geeky journalist goes "under cover" back to high school as research for a story. Falls in love with the sexy CIA handler from Alias. Oh - he was a teacher in this movie? Ah. So, she falls in love with sexy teacher. Gets kissed.

It's awful because: The entire premise is like one big, awkward, "lean-in-with-your-eyes-closed" lead-up to the "kiss." Except they have to throw in uncomfortable "conflict." And uncomfortable David Arquette.

I love it because: It's one big, awkward, "lean-in-with-your-eyes-closed" lead-up to the kiss. I hadn't yet been kissed myself in 1999 (laaaaaaaate bloomer there with the pucker-up action). I was also a geeky student with journalism inclinations and went through high school with insane crushes on teachers, principals, coaches, whatever. So it was a glorified dream-come-true on the silver screen: the way my life was supposed to play out. I'd end up with the Sexy CIA Handler guy. Teacher. Whatever.



EYES WIDE SHUT



The premise: married couple with trust issues joins "super-secret underground sex club."

It's awful because: Tom Cruise. 'Nuf said.

I loved it because
: I love salacious things. I just do. And I was just young enough when I watched this to be both traumatized, fascinated and guiltily curious...in SPITE of Tom Cruise. That whole "groups of men in vinyl masks doing unusual things to faceless naked women" was a whole new type of cinematic experience...



2000
100 GIRLS

The premise: College kid makes out with girl of his dreams in an elevator during a power outage. Trouble is: it's "DARK" and he has no idea what this dream girl (with a perfect rack) looks like. And darn, he didn't ask for her name.

It's awful because: You can see the ending coming from a mile away. And there's this whole "dressing in drag" to understand girls better bit that's wholly unconvincing. And wholly unnecessary. And the main character's sidekick roommate (a Stifler knock-off played by a Steven Baldwin knock-off, so wretched all around) plays with himself a lot. It's supposed to be funny. We're also supposed to believe that Jaime Pressly is the "Hottest Girl On the Planet" (she's hot, sure...but doesn't quite "own" that whole painfully-gorgeous-and-cold-as-ice stereotype the movie aims for).

I loved it because
: Can't help adoring Emmanuelle Chriqui - she's gorgeous and adorable and actually a pretty underrated actress (er, that is, I measure the quality of an actress by the quality of her hair and wardrobe in the movie, and Emmanuelle's is top notch). And actually, even though you know the "girl of college boy's dreams" is the one staring him in the face the entire time, it's still got a certain amount of "She's All That"-esque kitsch that makes it endearing. Even if you want to smash the Stifler knockoff over the head with a television.



THE SKULLS


The premise: College kid gets inducted into super-secret Fraternity Of Death. But cool cars are involved. And Paul Walker. And Dawson's Creek alum Pacey.

It's awful because: ...the movie ends with a pistol duel, for one. And Paul Walker gets a lot of screen time (it's doomed from the opening credits, in that case). And Dawson's Creek alum Pacey is the one that "gets the girl" which is always a little uncomfortable because, frankly, that kid has all the sex appeal of an artichoke (though I'm sure there are women out there that find artichokes endlessly attractive, I'm just not into that. Unless it's covered in parmesan and served up with crunchy bread. Artichokes, that is. Not Pacey. Wait...no, if he was served covered in parmesan I'd reconsider him, too)


I loved it because: That Lorna Vallings song "Taste" that played during the shower make-out scene is one of my favorite songs of all time. "If I could have just a taste of you....would I be wanting more...." sung in this spooky, sultry, sort of androgynous voice is hot, I guess. And, frankly, the pistol duel was a pretty awesome way to wrap up the Paul Walker character's sniveling, murdering, evil-fraternity-ruling lifestyle.




THE PERFECT STORM


The premise: Rag-tag boat of fisherman head out into the eye of the most vicious CGI storm a computer geek could concoct. Some of them die.

It's awful because: You go to a disaster flick to see disaster. Giant swells, crashing breakers, boats thrown asunder. They wait much too long to actually get to the good stuff - and all of this happens at NIGHT, so the whole "sky and boat and ocean are the same color" bit makes it all rather underwhelming. Plus, George Clooney sports a wretched beard.

I loved it because: Disaster movies are my vice. I love watching things get destroyed. I love special effects. I love that whole "mother earth turned against us a'la "The Tower"" genre. Great fun. And the attempt to hit us in the emotional jugular by having the captain go down with his ship was so contrived it was almost sweet.



2001


CROSSROADS


The premise: Britney spears is in a movie.

It's awful because: I'll pick my personal favorite - they cast a funny-looking guy as her love interest.

I loved it because: I was their target audience: girl that likes Britney spears, likes movies with funny-looking guys, likes road trips and likes "pregnant teens with a secret" side stories. Plus, Taryn Manning was in that group Boomkat with that song "The Reckoning" and it was terrible and I loved it. So, we've got awful movie combined with multiple awful pop stars and funny-looking guys. It's a shoo-in.



LARA CROFT: TOMB RAIDER


The premise: Angelina Jolie's Breasts run around through tombs killing things.

It's awful because: Anything as highly anticipated as Angelina Jolie's Breasts Running Around Killing Things is bound to be an utter disappointment by the time it actually reaches the screen. Though really, as video game adaptations go, this one kept me awake (I make that distinction because I remember going to see Final Fantasy when it hit the big screen and fell asleep by about the third time they invoked the name Gaia).

I loved it because: Nothing snarky here: this movie LOOKED really cool. The tombs, the leaping Angelina, the amazing sci-fi bra - all very neat. I wanted to be Lara Croft after I saw this movie. I wanted fancy gun holsters and amazing sci-fi breasts and a fancy house to relax in after killing the sorts of things that haunt tombs. Fun all around, actually.



JOY RIDE


The premise: Paul Walker, Steve Zahn and Leelee Sobieski hit the open road and get on the wrong side of a seriously deranged big rig trucker. Caaaaaannnnnndy Caaaaannnne......Caaaaaandy Caaaaane.......

It's awful because See above. It took the idea of lonely, long-haul big-rig truck drivers (already somewhat terrifying in their own right) and made one of them into a particularly heinous killer bent on mowing through cornfields in the night in pursuit of the road-tripping punks that toyed with his manhood via CB radio entendres...but mostly: it starred Paul Walker. And the only relief we get from Paul Walker comes in the form of Steve Zahn's sort of manic "sidekick" antics.

I loved it because: Caaaaaaaaandy Caaaaaane......Well, that, and it really makes you terrified of saying the wrong thing on CB radios. I'd never really thought about CB radios as being agents of Satan before, but clearly: you don't want to mess with the wrong truck driver. Ooh, and there was a cool bit where Steve Zahn got impaled by something and was certifiably attached to a fence post while CB Satan bore down on him, gears-a-grinding....was a true "edge-of-my-seat" moment.



2002


BLUE CRUSH


The premise: Chicks can surf, too!

It's awful because: Michelle Rodriquez was cast as a female character. And that whole "we grew here, you flew here" phrase would have been EPIC had it been left in the hands of an extra with better acting skills - as this wasn't the case, it was the best awful moment in the movie.

I loved it because: Chicks can surf, too! And they can also dress up pretty in the off hours. And it followed the familiar movie formula that holds that the prettiest girl on the team is also the best surfer. I like my teen surfer-chick movies predictable. I would have loved the movie less if Michelle Rodriquez had been the best surfer - it would have seemed contrary and underwhelming. AND, this was before Kate Bosworth went all skeletor and she had these really adorable cheekbones that were fun to watch. Then there was that whole message to young surfer-girl wannabes that real winners go to school, don't drink when they're underaged and stay away from skeezy boys in shifty-looking hats. So it's a movie with a strong moral compass, too.



xXx


The premise: Vin Diesel as a thrill seeker with a cool bald head and a cool neck tattoo is blackmailed into working for the US government "good guys." Badassery ensues.

It's awful because: Actually, I can't come up with a single reason this movie was awful. It was flat badass. Consider me mesmerized by the bald head and the neck tattoo.

I loved it because: Asia Argento. Where the heck did she go? She nailed that 'check me out managing to look all undressed in my fur coat and lingerie' Bond-Girlish vibe so well.



THE TIME MACHINE


The premise
: Welcome to the highly evolved future. You probably ended up here by accident. You probably want to turn around and run....run.....run.....

It's awful because: Someone cast Samantha Mumba in an HG Wells adaptation. She's a one-hit pop star. One-hit pop stars probably shouldn't appear in any HG Wells adaptation that hopes to be watched earnestly. Now, if Lady Gaga had played the part, sure, then it would have been an outstanding movie. And through the entire movie (which, at 96 minutes, was probably an hour and a half too long) I kept wanting to reach through the screen, tap Guy Pearce's shoulder and tell him, "hey, um, you're taking this whole movie too seriously. It's making me uncomfortable. Knock it off."

I loved it because: Why, because of the super-evolved Jeremy Irons, of course. He was SOOOOO super-evolved he didn't even need skin to cover his spine. He was so super-evolved his eyes didn't need pupils anymore - I mean, that's just REALLY EVOLVED.


2003

PAYCHECK


The Premise: Some sort of futuristic "reverse engineer" (I know, what the hell does that even mean??) gets paid big bucks to "forget" whatever it is he "reversed engineered" for his fancy clients. But something went wrong - now he's a fugitive with a bag of mystery trinkets instead of ridiculous amounts of cash. Oops. At least Uma Thurman is there to run around with him.

It's awful because:
This was another one of those movies that paints a picture of the future as a very colorless place made of steel. I simply refuse to believe that in a hundred years (for example) we'll have eschewed colors and textiles so wholly. Nevermind that they can wipe our memories clean in the future, it just seems cruel to take away our oranges, reds, purples, greens....our velour throw pillows and shag carpet called: they don't want to be eradicated just yet.

I loved it because: Aaron Eckhart was our "rich bad guy," apparently...but he was so smarmy my sister and I really, really, really, really wanted him to turn around, look directly at the camera and flash a big, vivacious THUMBS UP at the audience each time he delivered a line. He was that smarmy. I fell in love with him just a little in this movie.


S.W.A.T.
The premise: Something about special weapons and tactic agents...something about a past bust gone wrong....something about some rookie agents, and some roguish agents and some hot french guy offering a ton of cash to whomever busts him out of jail...something about Samuel L Jackson...and oh yeah - Michelle Rodriguez playing a girl again. But a S.W.A.T. girl, so that ALMOST doesn't count.

It's awful because: It's difficult to get specific....this was just a really, really, really awful movie. Not enough action to be Die Hard-esque, not suspenseful enough to be Tom Clancy-esque. Not sexy enough to be like Tomb Raider. And the S.W.A.T. super-hero thugs were just obnoxious enough and the bad french drug kingpin just hot enough you really did want the good guys to lose. You wanted to bad guy to get away.

I loved it because: See above. Good guys you want to throw gummi bears at, bad guys you want to rub up against, Samuel L Jackson playing righteous indignation to the hilt, and a small part by Josh Charles (who rocked a pair of Levis so well in "Sports Night" he should have been their billboard spokesmodel but seemed like a glib wimp when he put on the big flack jacket). I guess we were supposed to appreciate the grit of training to be super special ops...but frankly, I just wanted to see more explosions. Not enough things exploding.



THE REAL CANCUN

The premise: MTV Spring Break, feature-length. Like The Real World, with twice as many characters and a lot more thong bikinis.

It's awful because
: Even people like me with a ridiculously high threshold for pure trash can only handle watching college kids do body shots from so many different angles before you start wishing someone would just hurry up and puke already. There was the token "innocent church boy" that just came to Cancun to see some "boobies." His words. Not mine. All of the girls were blonde and cranky. They all had crushes on blonde, cranky guys with great abs. Everyone wore trucker hats.

I loved it because: There was nothing "real" about it. Lots of MTV's unique brand of "confrontation." Lots of stealing of other girls' boyfriends. And there was that whole uncomfortably self-aware way everyone Not Quite Ignored the Cameras which totally fed my inner voyeur. Hey, they even managed to work in a "happy ending." Church boy saw some boobies.



2004

CHASING LIBERTY

The premise: President's daughter wants to shake off the secret service and go party like she's in The Real Cancun. Hipster-Secret-Service-Agent-in-Disguise wins her heart, follows her around Europe.

It's awful because: Movie starts with Tom Petty's 'American Girl' playing over a montage of First Daughter trying on all manner of ugly outfits in preparation for a date with what ends up being a completely dweeby suitor in a bad sports coat. Just goes downhill from there. President's daughter *GASP* cuts her hair in an attempt at rebellion. President's daughter drinks beer and gets drunk. President's daughter goes skinny-dipping. President's daughter offers her (presumably) nationally guarded virginity and gets flat turned down.

I loved it because
: Aw, happy ending. President's daughter comes back down to earth, goes off to Oxford or some other "Presidential-" caliber school and "grows up" in a semester, get the Hipster-Secret-Service-Agent-In-Disguise as a prize. It followed the teen-flick formula very precisely: girl finds love, girl is happy, girl discovers lover is not all she thought, girl gets IRATE, girl calms down and ends up with the boy in the end. All is happily ever after. Saccharine and delightful. Plus, Mandy Moore seems very comfortable in her own skin which actually makes most of her movies ridiculously watchable even if her acting is...so-so.



COLLATERAL

The premise: Tom Cruise dresses up as my dad and kills people. Seriously: Tom with the salt and pepper hair looks just like my dad. It was spooky and awesome. Like watching my dad as some sort of ruthless (and short) assassin with good suits.

It's awful because
: Again: Tom Cruise.

I loved it because: How could I not love a movie that stars my dad as a ruthless assassin...???



THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW


The premise: Due to some sort of radical scientific miscalculation the world is ending, like, TODAY, so Jake Gyllenhaal has to save Emmy Rossum.

It's awful because: It goes without saying that any disaster movie that asks us to completely suspend all belief in reality will pretty much blow. But that's where those good-looking studs over at ILM come in - they come up with ways to attempt to help us forget we've suspended all belief in reality and instead, cover the statue of liberty in ice.

I loved it because: Dennis Quaid saved the day. Or, at least, showed up at the end of the movie still living, breathing and able to walk, so he must have saved the day. I love Dennis Quaid. He's wry and charming and lends a certain smug believability to those "suspend your belief" movies. In the end, though, I love all disaster movies. Except Deep Impact. I hated Deep Impact. That stupid "let's stand in front of the ocean and welcome death" scene was lame. I'd rather watch that terrible piece of disaster cinema "Volcano" where LA erupts before I'd watch Deep Impact again. Now Armageddon, that's a different story. But I could write an entire page on the many ways I love Bruce Willis' hairline, so we'll leave it there.



2005


RUMOR HAS IT

The premise: The Jennifer Aniston discovers her family probably inspired The Graduate. Finds The Kevin Costner who started it all, sleeps with him, ultimately decides to marry The Mark Ruffalo.

It's awful because: Many reasons, really - most of them having to do with Jennifer Aniston. Sure, she looks great in clothes. Sure, her hair is really healthy and shiny and her skin is a perfect shade of sun-kissed...but is has there been a single movie she's starred in where she hasn't just played Jennifer Aniston? Sure, the other actors can call her character Polly or Kristen, or Jane, but what they really mean is "Hey Jennifer."

I loved it because: I've spent my life as a Kevin Costner Hater. We all watched Waterworld, we all have license to hate Kevin Costner. But in this movie, he wasn't trying to be brave, or smoldering, or (particularly) historic or valiant or even interesting - he was just this sort of aging guy with thinning hair that got to nail The Jennifer Aniston...and her mother...and The Shirley MacLaine - and in that understated sort of context, he actually managed to be charming and gracious and even sexy. And THAT is something I will never again admit to admitting.



ELIZABETHTOWN

The premise: depressed wimpy guy goes on a road trip with his father's ashes. Meets one of those free-spirited, says-what-she-really-means movie characters that don't exist in real life, falls in love with her. The end.

It's awful because: It tried to be Garden State.

I loved it because: almost every line was so quotably bad (whether from a weak script or from really horrible acting or both...probably both) I sort of loved all of its weird, spectactularly overt, graceless attempts at introspection. There was nothing moving, inspiring or even remotely cerebral about this movie - it was obtuse as they come - but that was part of its magic. A charmless movie that thought itself very charming. Thanks, Kirsten Dunst for such a genuinely bland, forgettable vehicle in which Orlando Bloom managed to seem almost appealing.


BRIDE & PREJUDICE


The premise: Bollywood does Jane Austen! Song and dance numbers! Bhangra tunes! Appearance by Ashanti (huh?????)!

It's awful because: I think they hired models from Preference Hair Color boxes to do the acting. They all had really nice hair, really toothy smiles and all the believability of a cardboard box. And Jane Austen just doesn't translate well for modern storytelling purposes - it feels antiquated and uncomfortably chaste, even WITH fantastic song and dance numbers.

I loved it because: "No life without wife." The most horrible song and dance number in the entire movie. It'll stick in your head for years and years and years with such vicious monotony you'll want to throw on Elizabethtown to clear your brain up. And did I mention Ashanti made a guest appearance and sang a heinous song about India being "the place for her."



2006


POSEIDON:

The premise: Monster wave (ooh, ahh!) capsizes cruise ship. Everyone dies (except for a plucky team of good looking winners that refuse to let the ocean make them her bitch). Kurt Russell dies. Also, Emmy Rossum swims around with excellent cleavage (which is starting to look like one of my criteria for movies I love: breasts. Innnnnnteresting.....)

It's awful because: It goes without saying that if it's a disaster movie starring good looking people, impressive special effects and rousing heroics it's probably also got a horrible script, some really fabricated romantic chemistry and at least one child actor. That makes for a pretty awful movie right there.

I loved it because: We get to see the inner bowels of a giant cruise ship! Upside down! And Andre Braugher (whom we see too seldom these days) turns in a small part as the Captain determined to go down with his upside down ship. So really, he's just this movie's version of George Clooney (see: A Perfect Storm). I would have loved it a little more if Ashanti had made an appearance. No - wait - Beyonce. Or Samantha Mumba? Maybe Kylie. That cruise ship was short one pop star cameo.



JOHN TUCKER MUST DIE


The premise: Triple-timing high school stud gets caught - the jilted girls team up to "teach him one." Of course most anyone who's seen the movie will simply remember "the gardener" from Desperate Housewives in a red G-string.

It's awful because: I'm fairly certain that all (ALL) high-school movies starring actors pushing 30 are rarely convincing, never really nail the spirit of high school and always end happily with the less popular students toppling conventional high school social politics to land on top. They feature girls dressed like movie stars rather than students and people like Jenny McCarthy masquerading as their mothers.

I loved it because: See above. Girl with less-than-perfectly-shiny-hair topples conventional high school social politics and rises to the top. AND there's a cake fight in the end. And my hollywood doppelganger Sophia Bush gets some great outfits. ALSO: Ashanti's in this one, too. Another theme in movies I love: Pop stars. Apparently.

SNAKES ON A PLANE:


The premise: see above

It's awful because: see above

I loved it because: see above*



*this movie was rad.



2007


MUSIC AND LYRICS:



The premise: Washed up has-been pop star (hey, THEME) gets hired to write song for vapid, "hot-right-now" pop star. Enlists the help of Drew Barrymore's wit to get the song written.

It's awful because: There's this funny idea in Hollywood that it's a good idea to cast Hugh Grant in romantic comedies. I'm not sure where this funny idea first lifted off, because he patently lacks, in my mind, ANY and ALL romantic chemistry with any-and everyone he's ever been cast alongside. Same goes for Drew Barrymore. So, you throw the two of them together and you have the chemistry equivalent of watching a couple of first cousins wonder what it would be like to make out with each other (while being perfectly witty and entertaining, mind you, but that doesn't help assuage the creepy).


I loved it because: The catchy little ditty "Pop goes my heart" stays stuck in your head for days. In a delightfully UN-irritating way. You hum it, you pop your hip out a bit doing the Hugh Grant dance while styling your hair in the morning....it's a fun tune. And I was a sucker for the banter about the lyrics. And the fact that the entire movie is a thinly veiled stab at Wham! makes it fun in that VHI Pop-up Video sort of way. It's cute. It's innoffensive. It's like a popsicle on steroids. Requires very little comittment.



DISTURBIA


The premise: A rear window update. Kid suspects the next door neighbor is a serial killer. Uh oh: turns out he's right.


It's awful because: It devolves into a hokey bloodbath much too quickly. It abandons "eerie" and plunges headlong into "gory." It relies on the wiles of a kid under house arrest to fell the rather hulking Killer Next Door. And I know Shia can kick his fair share of Bad Guy Ass, but this is a little too "Full House meets Friday the 13th" for my taste.


I loved it because: I love the LeBeouf. He's cute. Has nice lips. Weak chin, but he makes it work. Pretty decent actor, actually - has a sort of casually self-deprecating streak that I find pretty endearing. Oh - wait - this is about the MOVIE, not the LeBeouf. Hmmm - ok. So, there were some good "make you jump" moments (things popping out of dark hallways, spooky lurking killers showing up in unexpected places....). I like the occassional make-you-jump moment. And the LeBeouf.



THE TEN

The premise: 10 bizarro vignettes loosely based on (er, inspired by? or containing verbiage similar to?) The Ten Commandments. Narrated by everyone's favorite Paul Rudd.

It's awful because: There was this entirely unnecessary "side story" going on between the vignettes that had something to do with Famke Janssen breaking up with Paul Rudd. She was really uncomfortable to watch. It was obviously just filler to stretch the movie out to a requisite 96 minutes. And also, the movie itself - with the strange little vignettes involving Wynona Ryder, marionettes, and jail rape (not necessarily in that order) weren't REALLY all that funny.

I loved it because: The CAT Scan Machine episode more than made up for the "Adam Brody stuck in the ground" bit. "Thou shalt not covet" was the basis for an absolutely upsurd example of "Keeping up with the Joneses" at it's most abstract. One guy buys a CAT Scan machine. His neighbor gets jealous - he won't be outdone by Bob's CAT scan machine, he'll get one of his own. This goes back and forth with a house full of CAT scan machines purchased on both sides. It's bizarre. And hilarous. And makes up for the whole "Winona Ryder grinding on a puppet" episode, too.



2008


MAD MONEY


The premise: Diane Keaton, Queen Latifa and Katie Holmes rip off the federal reserve. Yes, you read that right.


It's awful because: Well, the entire thing was filmed in their best guess recreation of what the inside of the Fed looks like, so it was pretty awful to watch. Lots of linoleum, that sort of thing. Also - the whole idea of "rich blue blood is forced to go to work as a janitor to keep her Ted Danson husband in cigars" is pretty unforgiveable right there. Please. Work experience or no work experience, if you haul your best Coach bag and Armani slacks into an interview SOMEONE out there will hire your middle-aged self, regardless. Look nice, smile sweetly, some sucker will give you a chance. Promise. And it probably won't be "a chance to clean toilets inside the federal reserve."


I loved it because: There were some unexpected giggles in this one. And Queen Latifah gets her man. And they all live happily ever after. With lots of money. It was fluff - but I was expecting really poorly scripted, hideously overacted (Diane Keaton's signature these days) fluff - instead, it was actually reasonably funny - surprise! No pop stars, no Michelle Rodriquez, no Tom Cruise and no catchy soundtrack, no Dawson's creek alum - just a surprisingly smart "heist caper." Believe it or not.



THE INCREDIBLE HULK


The premise: Ummmm, I think we all know how this movie works, it's been remade about 74 times.

It's awful because
: They continue to think we'll be impressed by the act of nice guy "becoming" the Hulk. Six or seven times during the movie. And - I know, it's a movie, BUT - there's no way any woman would put up with that whole "I'm a nice and romantic guy - NO - WAIT - I'm ANGRY....I'm GREEN....I COULD KILL YOU BY BREATHING ON YOU TOO HARD - wait, no, sorry - got it under control - I'm back to meek, nerdy guy - WHOA - WAIT - I'm ANGRY AGAIN" and the whole "government coming to take you away" icing on the rage cake. So, to believe that the likes of Liv Tyler would put up with it: as believable as Hugh Grant is sexy.

I loved it because: Tim Roth really brought it. I mean, the movie could have been called The Incredible Tim Roth and I would have been all over that action. As it was, he was strangely magnetizing....stole the show. Really displayed the ultimate form of male envy - one guy gets to be a huge, deformed science experiment - so not to be outdone Tim Roth becomes a huge, deformed science experiment. Except where the Hulk gets the short end of the stick and turns green when angry, Tim Roth got the (much more menacing) flesh tone. So cool.

NIGHTS IN RODANTHE


The Premise: Diane Lane picks the wrong man. Fiiiiiine, that's just my unadulturated adoration for Christopher Meloni bleeding through. But really: angry doctor with big time issues comes to vacant bed and breakfast, finds innkeeper fetching. Big storm comes to town, they "fall in love."


It's awful because: Diane Lane picks the wrong man. Richard Gere's page has finally turned from "silver fox" to "guy hangin in there as best he can...and slipping..." The script was horrible, the characters wholly unlikeable, the big haunted-house bed and breakfast was the only character you had any love for - and there wasn't nearly enough Christopher Meloni. Not nearly. MAJOR casting mistake to expect us to believe any woman is going to say, "No, no thanks Christopher Meloni, I'd rather go brood with this less good-looking, more issue-riddled Richard Gere character."


I loved it because: It really was LAUGHABLY bad. Horrifically bad. And if a movie is so horrible you giggle (think "First Knight.") it's automatically on my list of favorites. If the characters are so two-dimensional, the love scenes so uncomfortable to watch, the conflict so stale and manufactured: I'll buy it.



2009


THE PROPOSAL

The premise: Hot shot executive with great shoes marries lowly assistant with great abs to keep from being deported to CANADA (yes, CANADA). Cue the laugh track.

It's awful because: I like to believe most of us would actually snap at the chance to get deported to Canada. So clean there. So friendly.

I loved it because: Craig T. Nelson! Craig T. Nelson! Err...actually, yes. And Mary Steenburgen. And Sandra Bullock's Christian Louboutins. And a terrific scene involving a fluffy puppy and a hungry eagle. And an even better scene involving some "chanting around a campfire" that invoked Lil John's "Get Low" lyrics in a uniquely difficult-to-watch capacity.



GI Joe: the rise of cobra


The Premise: Couldn't tell ya if I wanted to. No clue.

It's awful because: Couldn't tell ya what the movie was about if I wanted to. And all of the guys in the movie looked identical (reasons I know I'm getting older: the hot-bodied twenty-something heartthrobs all look alike - and none of them look as good as Christopher Meloni. But apparently there was something about Super-Soldiers being trained to fight. And a Cobra. Er...yeah.

I loved it because: The special effects were pretty top notch. And Sienna Miller makes a badass brunette (though I always feel like I have to be told that I'm watching Sienna Miller - whether it's because she's so blandly vanilla, or because she's chamelion-like in her ability to "melt" into a role - this was no exception. If I hadn't seen her name in the credits, I would have had no idea I was watching a movie with Sienna Miller in it. Incidentally, speaking of Sienna Miller, my sister has a friend that moved to New York to be an actress and has actually become friends with Ms Miller - was actually invited to Thanksgiving Dinner with Ms Miller - a Thanksgiving dinner that none other than Jude Law attended, by the way. How 'bout that).



2012


The Premise
: earth's crust destabilizing = end of the world. Good thing Woody Harrelson saw it coming. Also good: John Cusack is around to offer an "everyman's glimpse of the apocalypse."
It's awful because: The earth's crust apparently also has a moral compass. And if you've been "naughty" the earth will make sure you Get in It's Belly before the film's through. The stingy rich guy that forced his mistress to get implants: DEAD! The mistress with the implants (who happened to be cheating on stingy guy with good looking Russian-Mafia type): DEAD! The well-intentioned step father to John Cusack's children who nonetheless tried to take his place in the family: DEAD (but, a little later in the movie because he was less morally flawed). Oh - and because the movie got too long and they wasted their ILM budget in the first hour, the ending of the movie went something like this: "Oh, hey, by the way, we totally miscalculated and the earth didn't self-destruct - let's all go to Africa and re-colonize!"

I loved it because: It's a well-established fact that I love disaster porn and this was the filthiest variety. We got to watch Los Angeles collapse into itself - glass skyscrapers toppled, obliterated, turned to pixie dust in mere seconds. It was beautiful, horrific....and, er....laughable.

Now then - here's to another decade of horrible movies: those are the sort that keep my DVD library well-stocked.




Monday, December 28, 2009

...in which I unleash my year-end rage on unassuming phone clients...


Sidenote: google "Rage" images sometime. There's a hot mess in an 80's bikini that I pretty much adore (almost as much as a good Chuck Norris poster...)


Here's the thing: I'm not a terribly patient person.

Let's qualify that: I'm not a terribly patient person, professionally. The closest I've ever come to a "cat fight" started with some long gestating ire directed at a coworker particularly lacking a crazy little thing we call autonomy. After a year on the job she was still afraid of "breaking the rules" and trying anything new...eventually I'd had it. My blood pressure skyrocketed, my face got all sorts of unpleasant shades of red, my arms began flinging around wholly without my permission and I remember yelling...really, legitimately yelling (further sidenote: in a construction office full of men, being "that woman" that looses her cool and yells (complete with flailing arms and shrill pitch) is pretty much the workplace equivalent of a colonoscopy...sigh. I never want to be "that woman" again). I think the fact that I've spent the last ten years of my life certifiably loathing my job(s) has something to do with my simmering impatience. I don't love the work I do, so please, don't drag out the process.


Enuf digression. My point: it's "That Time of Year." YearEndInAnAccountingSoftwareCompanyWithAFierceDedicationToCustomerService time of year. If you will. The time of year when fear-mongers storm the phone lines afraid they've hosed things so royally the IRS will send storm troopers to strike them down unless we we send our magical accounting software pixie dust through the phone lines.


The time of the year when my phone's headset becomes my singular fashion accessory (and when my hair has a headset-shaped ridge on top for 5 weeks straight).


The time of year when you realize you've answered more panicked client phone calls in one hour than you answer during most weeks in the month of July.


The time of year when I come up with a mantra like "It pays the bills....it pays the bills....it pays the bills...." and chant that victoriously each time I end a phone call and muffle an exhasperated snicker over the fact that we trust our fine nation's construction industry finances to folks that are woefully underqualified to do their jobs and rely on technical support lines to reconcile their general ledgers for them.


The time of year when I get out to the car (having narrowly survived another day without telling anyone what I really think of their "stupid" question - and yes, there IS such a thing) and immediately turn my Lady Gaga cd up to medically dangerous volumes and "sing" about riding disco sticks because...well....because it's fun. And after a day when I field 32 different questions about the merit of 4-up versus plain paper W2 printing, "sick beats" are about all I can handle.


It's difficult to maintain a civil, polite, engaging (never patronizing), ever-friendly tone while stifling my desire to tell most of these people where to shove sharp objects. And I am not a professionally patient person.


Thankfully: it's a short week. I'm 25% done with thinly veiled rage.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Lloyd Dobler: actually sort of a pussy.


So, it took the fine literary styling of Chuck Klosterman in "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" for me to realize this particularly inalienable truth: every woman's seven-year coming-of-age crush on John Cusack is not, in fact, a crush on John Cusack the Man. It's a crush on Lloyd Dobler.

And this is completely true.

Here's how Chuck puts it:

"It appears that countless women born between 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn't the number-one box-office start in America, because every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherf****er. For upwardly mobile women in their twenties and thirties Cusack is the neo-Elvis. But here's what none of those upwardly mobile women seem to realize: They don't love John Cusack. They love Lloyd Dobler. When they see Mr. Cusack, they are still seeing the optimistic, charmingly loquacious teenager he played in Say Anything, a movie that came out more than a decade ago. That's the guy they think he is; when Cusack played Eddie Thomas in America's Sweethearts or the sensitive hit man in Grosse Pointe Blank, all his female fans knew he was only acting...but they assume when the camera stopped rolling he went back to his genuine self...which was someone like Lloyd Dobler, and someone who continues to have a storybook romance with Diane Court (or with Ione Skye, depending on how you look at it). "


Tough to argue with that logic.

As nice as his romantic notions of the ultimate mixed tape were in High Fidelity and as, um...heroic as he managed to make limo-driving seem in 2012 (destruction porn! destruction porn!) I did watch Say Anything four times in a row the night I first rented it and can quote the entire movie beginning to end (including the lyrics in all of the songs from the soundtrack) - certainly haven't done that with any of his other movies. And yes, my sister and I did nurse the typical Cusack-Crush through high school (only rationale I have for why I suffered through "Must Love Dogs" a few years later...both he and Diane Lane should probably have been taken out back and shot for that miserable paycheck they *hopefully reluctantly* signed up for)

I have to agree, it was the Lloyd Dobler I loved as much as the the John Cusack playing the Lloyd Dobler. Didn't hurt that I was bookish, nerdy and isolated in high school much like Diane Court (and I probably wore sweaters just as ugly) so there was something infinitely easy to relate to about Say Anything...

Then I started thinking about Lloyd Dobler as a man.

His one ballsy moment was calling Diane to ask her out. The rest of the movie: she does all of the talking. He hardly speaks. He smiles, looks smitten, kicks the glass, does his best to teach her to drive her car, follows her around to her job at the retirement home, but doesn't particularly assert himself...

He hangs out with obnoxious, caricature girl friends that know absolutely nothing and give him bad advice (in fact, that righteous free-style "rap" scene at the Gas-n-Sip is the only time we see any semblance of "man friends"). He gets laid and opts to send her a "thanks....by the way, I love you..." greeting card...a greeting card? Really? I must have missed that "it was really nice sleeping with you this week" section of the greeting card aisle. And if you're trusting the generic "thank you" section to say "I love you, and thanks for the great Back Seat Memories" you're walking a thin line...

I know the scene with the boom box and the Peter Gabriel songs gets held up as the most romantic moment in teenage flick history, but really, that was about the only time he even seemed to grow a pair. Then when "Take this pen...and write me" Diane waltzes back into the picture (without so much as a "I'm sorry" Hallmark of her own, actually) he jumps in the sack with her and follows her off to England. Loyal as a puppy, sure, but....is schlepping around in the shadow of "Diane-Court-Whoa" really going to be particularly fulfilling in the grand scheme?

I've decided Lloyd is a big pussy.

And he conditioned an entire generation of women to think that we've hit true love gold if we find a sucker that will follow us wordlessly to work and back, a sucker with few goals other than listening (with adoring grins) while we yap - we might ditch him if Daddy is sufficiently persistent, but he'll still be waiting around for us when we get lonely (or when solemn IRS agents tell us we're silly little girls). I worry that Diane will get tired of him...she'll meet some sort of literature professor that doesn't let her get away with being a petulant, self-indulgent weenie and Lloyd will be back in his sister's apartment playing babysitter...

I could be wrong, but here, a dozen years or more after first falling in love with Lloyd I'm inclined to think he's basically a glorified emo wimp....glass-sweeping or no glass-sweeping, he's one key master that just wouldn't have long term staying power...

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Whoa there, stranger.


Hi, I'm Heather. I used to blog with sort of hyphenated, pseudo-regularity.

Then, oh, I'd venture a guess that a new, rather demoralizing, vitality-sucking cubicle job stepped on stage and somehow, that creative flow got "hairballed" (oh - is that just MY shower that occassionally has to be freed of that disgusting glob of hair that inevitably ends up growing in the drain? oh...."get one of those drain strainer/hair-catcher things" you say? Fine - ok...next trip to the drugstore...).

Anyway - something monkeyed with my creative mojo.

No more.

Welcome to the return of "inane posts on primarily celebrity-centric things that amuse Heather."

And also, "slightly less inane things that merit a paragraph or two as the mood strikes Heather."

And perhaps fun new themed posts like, "New things Heather learned today."

Maybe even "Books I'm reading that aren't nearly as good as the books I could write if I didn't continue to use this demoralizing, vitality-sucking cubicle job as a standing excuse not to."

Things like that.

Consider my creative hairball Drano-ed to high hell. Glug. Glug. Glug.



Monday, December 8, 2008

Yes, but do you have to be MEAN about it?


So, it's that time of the year...

The time when Walmart shoppers stampede and kill.

The time when fathers plummet from rooftops while hanging lights.

The time when Toys R Us shoppers pull guns and slay one another in the aisles....

AND the time when Washingtonions decide to berate, sue and otherwise antagonize one another over their respective holiday beliefs.
You know. CHRISTMAS.

Flash back to 2006 when a rabbi asked that a menorah be added to the SeaTac airport's holiday display. Port of Seattle authorities, fearing legal action or requests from other religious observers to add symbols of their celebrations to the display, opted instead to take down the "Christmas" trees altogether in a brilliantly cowardly display of "Bah Humbug-ian" fear mongering.

Imagine the outcry.

Fast forward to 2007. A completely secular - and impressively soulless - display of northwest winter bounty goes up. Fake snow. Big tall trees. Images of the San Juans. Ugh.

Here we are in 2008. This year the debate lands right on the steps of the state Capitol. Alongside a nativity scene and christmas tree we've got "The Atheist Sign."

It reads:

There are no gods,
no devils, no angels,
no heaven or hell.
There is only our natural world.
Religion is but
myth and superstition
that hardens hearts
and enslaves minds.

SO - odd choice of spacing and punctuation aside, it's an ugly sign in its own right. The sign comes to the capitol courtesy of the Freedom from Religion Foundation. The foundation's co-president explains that, "the sign is a reminder of the 'real reason for the season, the winter solstice.'"

Fine, fine, fine. Here's the deal: I'd be a whole lot more tolerant of their right to participate in the holiday disply if they'd taken a softer, kinder, gentler, more "holiday friendly" approach to their consciencsious objection. If the sign had said, "...there is only our natural world...we proudly celebrate the Winter Solstice," that would be one thing. To go on the offensive and attack religion en masse...well I have a hard time believing Mother Earth and her peaceful Solstice Babies would much approve.

Here's my official rebuttal: The nativity does NOT contain little word bubbles coming from Baby Jesus' mouth saying, "Merry Christmas, you'll all going to Hell." Neither does a Mary hold a sign that says, "Jesus is the Reason for the Season...the end is nigh, repent and be saved...your open minds lead to certain death." NOPE. It's imagery. It accuses no one. It directly insults no one. It calls no one stupid, or misguided, or otherwise hard-hearted. It makes no illusions to slavery.

My suggestion to the Freedom from Religion Foundation: focus on the winter solstice - put up homages to the natural world. Love Mother Earth. Leave the low blows at home with the Grinch. Celebrate.

Or I'll sic the Walmart doorbusters on you.




Tuesday, October 21, 2008

I'd date her.


Confession:

I'm totally cheating on Alessandra Ambrosio.

She was always my favorite (and isn't that sort of an American pastime anyway, picking your favorite Victoria's Secret model?)...she was The One Who Could Do No Wrong. I bought DOZENS of swimsuits over the years strictly because she looked so damn good in 'em I completely forgot they might (MIGHT!) not look "just like that" on me. Eh, I'm a fantastic consumer. I buy the fake image they're selling hook, line and credit card. The husband can verify how many bikinis I jammed into my luggage on the Greece honeymoon.

Then along came Miranda Kerr. Figures she's Australian (been there - the place is TEEMING with ridiculously well-dressed, ridiculously hot women. If Los Angeles and Paris got together and had a kid...that kid would look like a girl from Oz.). She looks like she's sixteen - dig that, since I look like I'm certifiably high-school ("we'd, like, totally get along!"). She's got those dimples...and perfect eyebrows...and she actually SMILES instead of smirks at the camera. She's perfect, I've decided. I'll even forgive the fact that she hooked up with that man-child "actor" Orlando Bloom instead of a proper man's man. She's perfect. I love her.

FHM did her justice this month. They read my mind. She IS my new favorite supermodel.

(doesn't mean she comes anywhere close to Megan Fox on the "Why Wasn't I Born Looking Like That?" pedestal, but hey, she's unseated Alessandra. That's something)

Friday, October 17, 2008

Hmmm...the video reminds me of something....


Oh yes, that's right: it reminds me of Every Other Britney Spears Video. Ever. Right down to the eye makeup. For all the hype surrounding the release of "Womanizer," it could have been absolutely any other Brit video released since...oh...1997. And frankly: it felt about a decade out of date.
Her moves: recycled.
Her attempt at being provocative: cliche.
Her "close-up-shots-while-touching-her-hair" had been seen in every video since she first donned the plaid skirt.
Her song: THE STUFF BAD DREAMS ARE MADE OF. And this from a person with the highest "bad pop music tolerance known to man." I mean, I even listened to Boyzone back in 1999. I knew every word to the Westlife music library. I had BOTH cds by LFO in my car. Own Hilary Duff cds. And Jessica Simpson. Everything XTina ever recorded. Mandy Moore's "Coverage" release (probably the worst of them all). AND STILL: I have to call "Womanizer" perhaps the most grating, repetitious, manufactured, irritating piece of pop...EVER.
Furthermore: why is she singing about womanizing men like they're a bad thing....they're the only type she's ever dated...really, to bring a little edge back to her career she should have taken the honest path and recorded a song about the fact that she's looking for another womanizer to take advantage of her. THAT would be ground-breaking music.
Ah well...she's got nice teeth, still...even after all of that Starbucks...

Thursday, October 16, 2008

People having a worse Thursday than I: unemployment edition

I'm trying my very best to be optimistic - to find people out there who aren't just sitting in front of their computers cruising the SAME craigslist postings for the fourth day in a row: they're actually having WORSE Thursdays...

Here are the people with whom I would politely decline to trade places today:

David Beckam/frozen-fried-fish-products:



Apparently Becks is shilling for a line of "healthier frozen food products" called GO3. This one almost has me at a loss. He's a good-looking, famous, reasonably well-respected, international superstar. Since when do international superstars (even UK transplants that haven't exactly changed the lives of every man, woman, and child in the US the way they'd have liked) decide to be photographed on a field full of children, holding their own weight in FISH STICKS? Furthermore, who had the bright idea to "gourmet up" the platter of fishmeal with a measley sprig of parsley and half of a wilted-looking lemon??????? And - if he MUST be photographed with a smile on his face while he holds a thousand fish fingers...WHY IS HE WEARING CLOTHES? I'm dumbfounded. And glad I'm not David Beckham today. I'll take sitting in a worn-out chair, in front of a worn-out computer with greasy hair, in my pajamas, hoping the Job o' My Dreams is still just "one day from being posted." Because at least I can chose to order a pizza.

The Bellevue SuperBlock


Amazing strides have been made in the last several years to force Seattle to become High Fashion. I figure this is sort of like trying to turn Paul Schafer into a sex symbol. Incongruent at best. While I've long held that we REI, socks & sandals, jeans-at-a-wedding Seattle locals need some serious exposure to the Wide World of Style, the approach developers have taken is a little reckless. The upscale, Eastside suburb of Bellevue was the lamb led to the couture slaughter. Saks, Hermes, Nieman Marcus, that's just the beginning of the list. BUT, it all happened at once. Multi-use high-rise condos sprung up over night, most of them gestating designer boutiques at street-level. One developer was particularly ambitious: bought several city blocks filled with low-rent strip malls (ooh! and one of the original Matt's Chili Dog joints!!) and planned to expand the Bellevue Fashion Empire to...unimagined heights! It was deemed the SuperBlock. Too bad reality stepped in. Condo sales came to a screeching halt. Banks got cold feet. Investors backed out. Read today that the SuperBlock is up ON the block. For sale for a cool $113 million. Developers asking for 50% down. Buyers and investors are chuckling. NOT looking good for Seattle Fashion.

Um....Runway models for Lauren Conrad



So, I'll get this little admission out of the way before I launch into the rest of my disparaging paragraph: I envy Lauren Conrad's "career" (YES, I use the term loosely). She's famous for nothing, getting opportunities she's hardly qualified for (NO, I don't care that she attended the "Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising..." so did lots of other girls who AREN'T on a lame television show getting undeserved offers thrown at them left and right), she's got great hair, long legs, and...a LOT of media attention. I want that. I really do. HOWEVER: she gets herself a packed house at LA's Fashion week and struts out a model with....a wad of Kleenex on her head. I mean...I would have the good sense not to slap a white faux flower on a girl's head - from any distance, it will look like a cheesy stage prop. Like a handkerchief. Like Bounty. I won't knock LC's own "sense of style," that's up to the greater shopping public....but so far, I'm not impressed with her runway savvy.

And, is it just me, or does this look distinctly like it belongs on the Fredericks of Hollywood website?

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

a letter to my unemployed self...


Dear Heather,

This all feels so strange, doesn't it? Surreal. Difficult to grasp. A shock, like a death in the family. After all of those years essentially...growing up under that roof...you sat in that chair longer than you've even known your husband...you spent more hours in that office than you spent with your family. You toiled, languished, persevered. Now this. After all of those hours spent burning that midnight oil assuming it would be appreciated, you're told, "we're restructuring. we're letting you go."

I'll bet you're going through the stages of grief. The denial, the anger, the numbness. I'll bet you'll have up days and down days. You'll have days of relief (maybe you can find a job where 40 hours means 40 hours, not 55 or 63). You'll have days of sadness. It's OK if your feelings are hurt. It's OK if you feel like you've been dumped. It's normal.

I picked this picture of you because you look determined. Chin up, smile on your face - ready to take it all on. Cling to that. Cling to your determination, your sense of self, your innate knowledge that you're a talented, valuable employee. You inspire respect and admiration for your character, your skills, your determination.

Above all else, don't sell yourself short. Don't let yourself down. Try your best not to be consumed by the fears of "what happens next" and "what do I do when the rent is due" and "what if no one wants to hire me..." Commit yourself to finding a place you love.

Take this odd, unexpected opportunity to finally follow your passion. Don't settle for another desk job that pays the bills. Don't take the first thing that comes along out of fear that nothing else will come along - do what you were so afraid to do for so long: start over.

Remember that eight-year-old girl that told strangers she would be "an author" when she grew up. Tap into that strength you felt when you tore open your scores on that AP exam and realized you were among the top 5% in the COUNTRY. Remember those writing conferences your teachers sent you to when you were young. Remember that fire, channel that vigor, refuse to bow to the little voices in your head telling you you're always a few dollars from homeless.

Rely on K - let him support you while you struggle to find a new place to call home. Be proud of the jobs you've held, they've brought you to where you are now. Don't be afraid of that pay cut - in the long run, you value professional satisfaction so much more than you value the dollar sign. Take pride, peace, and solace in knowing that you can go to bed each night having pursued what you love.

Don't back down. Don't sell yourself short. Don't be afraid to find out who you are. What you're made of. What you're capable of. Who loves you. Who supports you.

Remember this time as one of those dark periods you're all the stronger for having conquered. Dazzle them with your smile, your smarts, your vocabulary...and (let's be honest) your eyelashes. Work hard, let yourself play a little. You haven't played in years. You haven't slept in for years. You haven't let K pull the long hours in years.

It's your turn. Take heart. Take care of you.

Seize your day.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Can someone please give the campaigns a thesaurus?

Here are a handful of useful, pleasant alternatives to the over-used word "maverick" (which, thankfully, can only really continue to bombard us for the next 25 days or so):

Dissenter
Nonconformist
Stray
Individualist
Rebel
Outsider
Eccentric
Radical
Rebel
Irregular
Unorthodox
Lone wolf
Independent
Mutineer
Off-beat
Stray
Unbranded
Uncontained
Atypical