Another Movie Guy?: "Monsters vs. Aliens," etc.

Welcome to “Another Movie Guy?”! I review recent new releases, and then mention similar movies worth checking out. If all goes according to plan, you’ll have some new additions to your Netflix queue. Or someone with whom you can angrily disagree.

Monsters vs. Aliens is an excellent example of how technical achievements alone do not make a movie worth watching. A lot of time was clearly spent on visuals, so much so that they overshadow imagination and story. There are fleeting moments of wit, but they do not eclipse the movie’s overwhelming mediocrity. There are only passing references to vintage creature features, and the modern winking references are distracting. Even voice work from well-liked actors/comedians cannot save it.

Susan (Reese Witherspoon) is a pretty, nice woman who is about to marry a local weatherman. She is struck by a glowing meteor on her wedding day (I hate it when that happens). The meteor gives her gigantic size and enormous strength, so the military, led by General W.R. Monger (Kiefer Sutherland), whisk her off to Area 51. There Susan meets other monsters. They are your standard throwbacks to cheesy 50s science fiction. Of the monsters, I only like B.O.B. (Seth Rogen), an indestructible blob with memory issues, and Insectosaurus, a giant cuddly insect. General Monger tells Susan to think of Area 51 as a hotel she cannot leave. That soon changes – we learn that the meteor that struck Susan is made of the most powerful material in the universe, and that the alien Gallaxhar (Rainn Wilson) will destroy the planet to possess it. The President (Stephen Colbert(!)) decides that the monsters are Earth’s last hope. They fight, and destruction ensues.

Any story, depending on how it’s told, has the potential to entertain. Here the writers squander the promising premise. Consider the President’s first interaction with the aliens. Stephen Colbert is an excellent choice for the role, and I assumed that the he would imbue the dialog with the same wit that permeates his show. I was wrong. Instead of verbal communication, the President proceeds to play the theme from Beverly Hills Cop. Hilarious, right? The audience was silent. These kind of mis-steps happen over and over. Dr. Cockroach (Hugh Laurie) says, “Oh. Emm. Gee” in the midst of battle. Such ironic detachment from the material can be done well. In Monsters vs. Aliens these unfunny jokes distract from the story, and undermine the characters. The actors do the best with what they’re given, yet the dialog is so corny and underdeveloped that no one is given a chance to shine. Only Insectosaurus, who does not speak, illicits any chuckles. The visuals are cute if not particularly striking. And the 3D visuals are not necessary – I would have been similarly bored by only two dimensions.

I’m normally a stickler for movie theater etiquette. Those who know me understand that I’m not afraid to reprimand an distracting movie-goer. Chief among my list of annoying patrons are parents who bring their extremely young children. Since the target audience for Monsters vs. Aliens is primarily children, I ama little more forgiving this weekend. About two-thirds of the way through the movie, multiple children start crying. They’re bored. Normally I’d be frustrated with a such a development. Instead I was sympathetic. No one, even the very young, should be forced to sit through something so insipid and fogettable.

Here are better throwbacks to corny low-budget movies from the 40s and 50s:

Fido. Zombies are fundamentally uninteresting. They lurch, decay, and eat. I guess a cult following is the only way such creatures remain a part of popular culture. Though not completely successful, Fido at least makes an honest attempt at originality. It’s set in an alternate 1950s suburban universe – one in which zombies were once a threat, and now lead lives (un-lives?) of forced servitude. Everyone on the block has their own domesticated zombie except for the Robinsons, so Dad procures Fido (Billy Connolly), who becomes more than just a servant. Little Timmy becomes fast friends with his zombie, and soon Fido is playing catch and greedily consuming human flesh. There are more developments. Tim Blake Nelson plays a neighbor who sees his female zombie as a different kind of servant altogether. As with similarly high-concept movies, the earlier scenes that establish the alternate universe are the most compelling. Only when the movie struggles with its plot will you lose interest. Yet it’s amusing to see Connolly, a wonderful actor with a thick Scottish brogue, reduced to nothing but throaty grunts.

Ed Wood. A cursory glance at Tim Burton’s filmography shows that he’s no doubt influenced by classic creature features. So it makes sense that Burton direct this biopic of Hollywood’s legendary worst filmmaker. Johnny Depp stars as Wood, the cross-dressing, angora-loving director of cinematic dung such as Glen or Glenda and Plan 9 from Outer Space. The movie follows Wood as he struggles to get his pictures made, and forges an unlikely friendship with Bela Legosi (Martin Landau), the former Dracula well past his prime. Landau won an Academy Award for his weirdly hilarious performance (I love it when he calls Boris Karloff a “limey cocksucker”). Burton regards his subjects with empathy – he sees Wood as a man in love with filmmaking so  that he views every take, even disastrous ones, as cinematic gold. Wood is a loser to everyone but himself, which is why he attracts Hollywood’s most desperate souls, including Bill Murray as an aging queen. For my money, Ed Wood is Burton’s best. No scene falls flat, and the movie demonstrates a mastery of tone and evocation of the period. And the Vincent D’Onofrio cameo is as memorable as any scene in Burton’s considerable career.

Military Intelligence and You! From the makers of Syphyllis: The Enemy Below comes this spoof of 40s era army instructional videos. A distinctly American narrator tells us about the importance of intelligence (it allows the army to “distinguish between dangerous enemies and annoying foreigners”). The story concerns Major Nick Reed, a military intelligence analyst struggling to find the dreaded Ghost Squadron. Reed’s former love, Lieutenant Monica Tasty, complicates matters. Really though, the threadbare plot is an excuse for director Dale Kutzera to spoof 40s idealism and the Iraq War. Tongues are firmly in cheeks when characters patiently argue we can’t just go around sending troops into other countries based on mere suspicion. With the Bush administration becoming an increasingly distant memory, the relevance of such a satire wains. And like Fido, the movie loses steam in its final half-hour. Sure, the movie is merely a Troy McClure educational video taken to feature length, and suffers as such. Nonetheless, it has its share of belly laughs, and worth renting if you like you like your humor scathingly dry.

That’s it for this week’s “Another Movie Guy?”! Tune in next week when I try to illegally cross the border.

Live DC: Cut Copy w/Matt and Kim

Poor Peter. He wrote an unapologetically glowing interview with Matt Johnson (of Matt and Kim), and what thanks does he get? No press passes for BYT! No photos, either! Luckily I bought my ticket well in advance, which (of course) gives me ample opportunity to gloat. Matt and Kim’s high energy half-hour set left me reeling with delirious joy. Cut Copy wasn’t so bad either. Sorry, Peter.

Right before Matt and Kim take the stage Monday night, I order an overpriced gin and tonic. The earlier beers were not getting the wood chopped, and somehow a good buzz seemed necessary to fully enjoy Cut Copy’s opener. After their dangerously quick opening number, I learn that Kim had a similar idea. Matt informs the enthusiastic crowd that she normally does not drink liquor, and we’re in the throes of her first inebriation stage – HAPPINESS. Her boundless energy rubs off. Matt jumps on his piano stool, Kim stands on her bass drum, the crowd (or maybe just me) spontaneously cheer in mid-song, the video screen projects fireworks, all the while the hooks keep coming.

The second stage is DANCING – Matt lays down a beat and Kim busts a move. So do I, so does my buddy Bobby G, so does Blonde Bombshell near me. The duo play “Daylight” for the first time in DC with radiant smiles. The song is fun and catchy so I forget about Amateur Photographer clicking away with her shitty point-and-shoot. Addressing the crowd, Matt sounds so thankful I think he might burst into tears. They finish before we see Kim’s third stage. Earlier she told us we don’t want to see it, and I still don’t believe her.

I want a moment’s respite before Cut Copy take the stage. DJ Knightlife does not give me the opportunity. He replaces his earlier disco grooves with booming electro, and I stay put. Thankfully Bobby G is picking up the next highball. I keep moving until the lights go down. During Cut Copy’s set, I experience an array of different sensations. An abbreviated list:

• Nostalgia – The colors of Cut Copy’s light show remind me of Fruit Stripe gum. Electric reds, shimmering greens, and glowing yellows drift along the thin glass cylinders. It’s dazzling, yet an anthropomorphic zebra consumes my thoughts.   

• Relief ­– The second application of Extra Strength Gold Bond Medicated Powder was a wise choice. The heavy synths and lock-step drums get me in a sweat.   

• Awe – If Matt and Kim are blissfully chaotic, Cut Copy are consummate professionals. They are correct in the few times they inform us it’s time to dance.   

• Nausea – After a short bathroom break, I hang in the back below an amp. The bass uncomfortably shakes my guts as the bands gets into high gear. From the back, I watch hundreds of hands reach for the ceiling.   

• Fucking A ­– “Lights and Music” is an apropos final number. Like all their preceding songs, they add just the right amount of booming intensity.   

• Regret – I meet up with Bobby G outside. Jacket on waist and sweat on brow, he says, “Fucking brilliant, man.” I should have gone back.

Who cares if I have work tomorrow? I can’t sleep now and I can always call in sick. Bobby G and I head to DC9 for a few rounds. A couple dozen enthusiastic fans join us. They also realize that after a show like that, they won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

Sorry, Peter.

Another Movie Guy?: "Duplicity," etc.

Welcome to “Another Movie Guy?”! I review recent new releases, and then mention similar movies worth checking out. If all goes according to plan, you’ll have some new additions to your Netflix queue. Or someone with whom you can angrily disagree.

Trust can be a difficult thing. You can have every reason in the world to trust someone. Every thing about a person could scream credibility,yet inevitably you must make the choice that, “I believe what they tell me.” With a title like Duplicity, it is easy to guess that the issue of trust is central. Here are two bright, good-looking people whose lives are deception that make the choice to believe one another. Writer/director Tony Gilroy is familiar with such themes – he’s the same guy who brought us Michael Clayton. Whereas his directorial debut was brooding and introspective, his latest release is upbeat and fun.

Ray (Clive Owen) is an MI6 agent who meets Claire (Julia Roberts), a CIA operative. She fucks him, drugs him, and steals his intel – he’s understandably pissed. They meet again in the most unlikely of circumstances. They’ve jettisoned the public sector for more lucrative corporate work. What’s more, they are working for bitter rivals. Claire’s boss Howard Tully (Tom Wilkinson) has his hands on an amazing product, one that Dick Garsik (Paul Giamatti) desperately craves. Ray and Claire plan to steal the product for themselves, and sell it to a third party for a hefty fee. In order to accomplish this, these two must trust each other. But with so many levels of deception, the possibility of complete trust becomes increasingly dim. During their trysts, Ray and Claire invent every plausible reason to doubt their relationship. Raising such doubts is integral to their job, and perhaps they cherish their moments of playful psychological warfare. For them, it must be a turn-on.

You remember that last scene in Michael Clayton, right? That thrilling one where George Clooney cleverly shows Tilda Swinton what it’s like? Yeah, well Duplicity is that scene extrapolated to feature length. I don’t mean that as a bad thing. Movies consisting of banter between two smart, good-looking stars set in exotic locales are as old as Hollywood itself. We know that Owen and Roberts have considerable chemistry from their powerful work in Closer, so there’s no doubt that they shine her. All the supporting players, Giamatti and Wilkinson in particular, have their moment to shine. Those two must have relished their slow-motion fight sequence that opened the movie. Gilroy infuses his movie with a style that’s reminiscent of the Ocean’s Eleven series. Both movies even have scenes at the front of Rome’s Pantheon. Gilroy’s style is marginally less flashy – he trust his audience can fellow the erudite script and complex plot mechanics. Even with such an intricate story, the story is easy to follow, and I was never once confused. More importantly, when the twist finally comes (shocker), it is not out of left field.

Duplicity is like a glass of champagne. It’s bubbly, it’s sweet, it’s familiar, and it does not linger long after it’s gone. It should come as no coincidence that Owen and Roberts consume about seven bottles over the movie’s duration. You know, I’m writing this review a mere hour after walking after leaving the theater. Had I waited until Sunday to sit at my laptop, I might have had difficulty recalling everything. There are a slew of interesting new releases this week, and while Duplicity may not be the best, it’s (probably) the most entertaining. I said earlier that I didn’t see the end coming. The mystery product, however, I guessed almost immediately. Let’s just say that anyone who knows me will understand why.

Here are classic examples in which a male/female team attempt subterfuge (with varying degrees of success):

Double Indemnity. Anyone who watches old movies will tell you that you absolutely cannot go wrong with Billy Wilder. He’s dabbled in many genres, yet his forays into noir remain the most appealing, and this one is among my favorites. Walter (Fred MacMurray) is a successful insurance salesman who meets Phyllis (Barbara Stanwyck) on routine business. It is unclear what how Walter regards her (except perhaps with lust), yet he desires Phyllis’ company. They rendezvous again, and the two hatch a nefarious plan – Walter will sell Phyllis’ husband a double indemnity policy, kill the husband, and make the death look curiously accidental. The murderers will then collect the policy and live happily ever after, right? Of course the plan goes to shit. No one can successfully deceive Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson), who plays Walter’s quirky boss. What makes the movie work is the superlative quality of elements involved, particularly the screenplay co-written by Wilder and Raymond Chandler. The guy who created Philip Marlowe knows how to infuse dialog with laconic sleaze. What’s most intriguing is it’s never made clear why Phyllis and Walter embark on such a foolhardy plan, and why they think they are solution to the other’s unhappiness. Perhaps they saw deviant crime as the only way out of their adequately comfortable lifestyle.

Elevator to the Gallows. Before he filmed one of the longest meals in movie history, Louis Malle directed this curious French thriller. Former spy Julien orchestrates the murder of his boss so that he may live with Florence, the boss’ wife. Of course the plan goes to shit. Julien leaves behind a key piece of evidence (what an idiot), and gets stuck in the elevator (seriously). Meanwhile a hotshot kid and his girlfriend steal Julien’s car and drive by Florence, which leads her to believe Julien left her for a younger woman. She wanders the streets, delirious with grief. Meanwhile the hotshot kid goes joy riding, and murders a tourist. Eventually a cop makes sense of all the events, and provides the story its moral compass. The ironies pile and the plot becomes increasingly complicated, yet Malle never loses sight of his story. Florence becomes dangerously deranged, and one gets the impression Julien cannily took advantage of her codependent instincts. Like many French movie criminals, Julien plays a cool criminal to the end. The initial murder unfolds with deliberate logic, and Malle proves he has a capable hand at directing thrilling set pieces. If you’re still not convinced, the movie is worth watching for its atmospheric depiction of 1950s Paris.

House of Games. Playwright David Mamet made his directorial debut with this sneaky con men thriller. Margaret Ford (Lindsay Crouse) is a psychiatrist who specializes in obsessive behavior. One of her patients is a degenerate gambler who claims if he does not come up with 25 large, he will be killed. Margaret visits the patient’s regular pool hall, called the House of Games, to reason with whomever the patient owes. Here she meets Mike (Joe Mantegna aka Fat Tony) who confides that he need a beautiful woman for a poker game. The con men fascinate Margaret, so Mike offers to show her his world. Of course the plan goes to shit. Margaret learns about the intricacies of the con, never suspecting that she’s the mark for a grander scheme. The tables eventually turn, and soon Mike finds himself in mortal danger. I’ve written about Mamet movies in this column before, but I don’t care if I’m repeating myself. I love his terse, clipped dialog, and how his characters speak in an oblique way in relation to their craft. More specifically, I love how his character use profanity as punctuation. Rarely do plot, dialog, and acting converge in such a thrilling, thought-provoking way. For bonus points, check out William H. Macy in his early role as a helpless mark.

That’s it for this week’s “Another Movie Guy?”! Tune in next week I’m a giant woman tasked to save the world.

Another Movie Guy?: "Robert Blecker Wants Me Dead," etc.

Welcome to “Another Movie Guy?”! I review recent new releases, and then mention similar movies worth checking out. If all goes according to plan, you’ll have some new additions to your Netflix queue. Or someone with whom you can angrily disagree.

I’ve got a buddy who says if he’s ever elected to public office, his stance on the death penalty would be a direct reflection of his constituency. He doesn’t care about the issue, so he figures that he would simply just please those who elected him. I couldn’t help but think of my buddy as I was watching Robert Blecker Wants Me Dead, the new documentary playing at E Street. The two men at its focus are bursting with wit and intelligence, and are obsessively devoted to the issue of capital punishment. It seems like a waste of great minds, but then again, one of them has little else  to think about.

At first I thought Robert Blecker, a New York law professor, is a complete prick. He’s an avid death penalty advocate who believes that only the worst of the worst should be killed by the state. He approaches the issue as a “emotive retributionalist” – one who thinks that execution is a moral necessity for the good of society. He initially sounds like a prick because of the simple language he uses. “I want this man to die” is a phrase that is never far from his lips. As the movie continues, a consistent philosophy emerges, and I realize that his argument has a sturdier framework than simple blood lust. A great mind like his needs a great foil, and he finds one with Daryl Horton, a death row inmate who killed his four children. Horton never claims to be innocent of his crime, and sees the murders as an altruistic act. By killing his children, Horton thinks he was saving them from hell. These two begin to correspond. Blecker is impressed by Horton’s eloquence, and through their letters, this odd couple find a mutual cause. Horton wants to die, and Blecker wants to see him dead.

Watching the movie is akin to having a passionate debate. In my head, I found myself arguing with the positions Blecker and Horton  present. Director Ted Schillinger trusts the material, and most of the time understands it needs no frills. Horton and Blecker develop a bond based on the mutual respect of the other’s intelligence. Of course, this poses an ethical problem for Blecker. He begins to like the same guy he wants killed. And even if Blecker does like the guy, he must remember that, yes, Horton killed his children in cold blood. Blecker fervently denies that Horton is his friend. I think he’s deluding himself, and is perhaps sad when the inevitable finally arrives. Until then, Horton has oodles of time, and is happy to have someone passionately engage him. The movie isn’t as insanely dark as it sounds. Both men are frequently funny, and Horton (literally) infuses gallows humor into his conversations. If there’s one weakness, it’s Schillinger’s corny attempt at symbolism. By the end, Blecker is literally on the fence between capital punishment advocates and abolitionists, and the image is just a little too on the nose. Luckily, much of the movie’s running time is simply spent watching these men talk.

Blecker’s position is an interesting one – I kind of see where he’s coming from, but only up to a point. He wants juries to trust their emotions as they choose an appropriate punishment, yet juries are instructed to judge the facts with reason. I would love a chance to bring this point up with Blecker himself. When I bought my ticket, the guy at the box office informed me both he and Schllinger were attending screenings later that evening. I couldn’t go, and as I left the theater, I felt like I was wasting a great opportunity. The movie held in my interest by consistently engaging my mind, an experience that’s often sorely lacking in the movies. This is a fascinating documentary, and if you’re the sort who likes to argue, you should see it now. Even my buddy was intrigued by the subject.

Here are other documentaries concerning the more dubious aspects of our justice system:

Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills. Originally airing on HBO, this documentary gives the gnawing feeling that our justice system is fundamentally flawed. Directors Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky focus on three Arkansas teenagers, later called the West Memphis 3, who are imprisoned for the brutal murders of three second-grade boys. The media argues that the brutal deaths are part of a satanic ritual. One of the defendants, the brooding Damien Wayne Echols, makes for an easy target since he listens to Metallica, and therefore must worship the Dark Lord. All three defendants are easily found guilty. The directors film the trial and interview those involved (law enforcement, parents of victims, etc). It becomes clear that John Mark Byers, a victim’s stepfather, is seriously disturbed and should have been considered a suspect. In a bizarre turn, Byers gives the directors a blood-stained knife as a gift. Lab work confirms that the blood type matches Byers and one victim. The directors subtly argue that the West Memphis 3 are innocent, and convincingly suggest they never received a fair trial. For bonus points, I suggest that you check out the sequel, which documents the appeal process, and further damns Byers as the culprit. As of summer 2008, a judge denied Echols a DNA test, citing inconclusive evidence.

Capturing the Friedmans. This documentary follows the trial of Arnold Friedman and his son Jesse, and their child molestation trial. Director Andrew Jarecki never makes it clear whether Arnold and Jesse are justly imprisoned. His movie does serve as a condemnation of the justice system, and is at its most fascinating when Jarecki looks at how the trial rips the Friedman family apart. There would be no movie if David Friedman, the oldest son, did not tirelessly film his family history. We eavesdrop as Arnold and his wife fight bitterly. We see moments of raw anger and unexpected tenderness. Sure, the material sometimes feels like an arthouse episode of Jerry Springer, but at least the director never exploits. Arnold is a pedophile and capable of molestation, and the movie also argues that the police are equally capable of a hatchet job. Witnesses are manipulated and there is little physical evidence damning the father and son. We are once again soberly reminded how easily the legal system can fail.  As an added bonus, the DVD features festival discussions in which those involved angrily complain about how they’re portrayed.

Mr. Death. Documentarian Errol Morris always manages to find the most peculiar subjects, and Fred Leuchter is no exception. Despite training as an engineer, Leuchter found his true calling in designing “more humane” execution machines. I suppose a faulty electric chair could lead to truly repulsive consequences, so it follows that somebody has to make sure that the inmate doesn’t boil. Needless to say, Leuchter is a strange guy. We learn that he drinks 40 to 60(!) cups of coffee a day, and that’s how he meets his waitress wife. On their honeymoon, Leuchter makes an unlikely stop at Auschwitz. After a completely unscientific study of Auschwitz’s soil, he becomes a fervent Holocaust denier, and gets chummy with members of the Neo-Nazi movement. Morris tracks Leuchter’s rise and fall with attentiveness and curiosity – as with his other documentaries, it’s difficult to determine what exactly Morris thinks of his subject. The director also uses his famous interrotron, a unique device that allows the interviewee to look at both director and camera simultaneously, which makes an interview seem more like a confession. You may want to shower after spending time with Leuchter, yet I nonetheless recommend this documentary because it shows us how weird people can get.

That’s it for this week’s “Another Movie Guy?”! Tune in next week when I rob a CEO.

Trailer Trash presented by Another Movie Guy?

Welcome to “Another Movie Guy?”! Normally I review recent new releases, and then mention similar movies worth checking out. I had originally intended to review Watchmen, but Evan, a fellow contributor and avid Alan Moore fan, beat me to the punch. So rather than bore you with yet another take on that hype-saturated dystopia, I thought I’d bring you brief glimpse of what you can expect in the coming months. After all, nothing is more fun than passing judgment on movies I have yet to see:

Terminator Salvation. Christian Bale replaces a doughy Edward Furlong in this sequel/reboot to the Terminator franchise. The Governator is unsurprisingly absent, and instead of we focus on John Connor, the Last Chance for Humanity, as he goes toe-to-toe with the infinitely capable machines. I only hope that Bale brings the same angry intensity he had during the verbal evisceration of his cinematographer.
Why this looks awesome: Explosions! Gun fire! Big metal things! Allusions to failed Iraq policy: “IF WE STAY THE COURSE WE ARE ALL DEAD!”
Why this is irredeemably shitty: For one thing, McG replaces James Cameron at the director’s chair. If you recall, McG is the same guy who directed Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle and the Offspring video for Pretty Fly (For a White Guy). How anyone thinks that this guy could competently direct semi-serious action spectacle (with bonus time paradoxes) is completely beyond me. Oh, and they don’t even try to have the trailer make sense.
Why you will see this anyway: Christian Bale knows his way around an action movie. You remember how many times Sarah Connor pumped her shotgun one-handed after T-1000 stabbed her in the shoulder (seven). You forgot that Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines ever happened.

The Limits of Control. Jim Jarmusch is no stranger to the detached assassin movie.Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai has great performances, and singularly badass methods of execution. Now instead of Forest Whitaker, we have that African guy from Casino Royale.
Why this looks awesome: High-powered rifles! Badass killers! Exotic locales! Tilda Swinton! FUCKING BILL MURRAY!
Why this looks irredeemably shitty: Jim Jarmusch is sometimes a little too detached for his own good. You remember how boring Stranger Than Paradise got. And hasn’t the killer-with-a-guitar thing been done before?
Why you will see this anyway: It’s got an unbelievable cast. You love movies about hit men. You feel that Jarmusch can fill the void that Jean-Pierre Melville left. You’ll see anything will Bill Murray in it. That man can stare at a wall and make it entertaining.

Star Trek. This is JJ Abrams’ reboot of the classic sci-fi franchise. With a young cast and Erica Bana as the villain, Abrams aims to make a movie that’s not just for Trekkies and Cale.
Why this looks awesome: Space opera badassery! Chris Pine’s upward glance! Bruce Greenwood delivering ridiculous lines with uncommon authority! Simon Pegg!
Why this looks irredeemably shitty: Zachary Quinto, the guy they hired to play Spock, doesn’t convince you. Yes, it is difficult to appear coldly logical in short sound bites, but Quinto is nevertheless no Nimoy. There’s something unnerving about Kirk fucking Uhura. Oh, and the dramatic music gets increasingly corny as the trailer continues.
Why you will see this anyway: Star Trek has been impenetrable to many and adored by some. You’re glad Abrams instinctively realizes that it’s best not cater to the esoteric obsession of nerds that would be displeased with any final product. This looks like the perfect popcorn movie.

(500) Days of Summer. Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays Tom, a hopeless romantic who listens to The Smiths in an elevator. Summer (Zooey Deschanel) overhears the tune and begins to sing along, and Tom is smitten right away. They begin a relationship and Tom’s thoughts turn to the future. Yet an odd voice informs us that this is is a story about love, not a love story. She leaves him heartbroken.
Why this looks awesome: Joseph Gordon-Levitt! Zooey Deschanel! Joanna Newsom! Allusions to your favorite Alex Cox movie!
Why this is irredeemably shitty: With animated sequences and other visual flourishes, this movie could wind up too cute for its own good. Animated blue birds, are you kidding me?
Why you will see this anyway: Talented, good-looking actors can (probably) overpower material that’s too cute for its own good. You remember all too well when things were going great, and your significant other gave you a similarly unpleasant surprise. Come on, admit it – you’ve been Tom before. Hell, you even put that same Hall and Oates song on a mix for your ex.

Observe and Report. A pervert flashes Anna Farris. Now it’s up to the mall security chief, played a chubbier-than-usual Seth Rogen, to get that scumbag behind bars. Since this is written and directed by Jody Hill, the guy responsible for The Fist Foot Way, you can count on this being dark and with few likable characters.
Why this looks awesome: Vomit jokes! Self-deluded narration! Ray Liotta! Mall punks getting abused!
Why this looks irredeemably shitty: You can just imagine Hill pitching this to a studio exec: “It’s like a cross between Paul Blart and Travis Bickle!”
Why you will see this anyway: You’re getting sick of the Judd Apatow approach to comedy. Do you really need another movie in which a funny-but-hapless guy gets a beautiful girl to fall in love with him? It doesn’t actually happen like that. An asshole mall security guard seems far more plausible. And besides, you’ve been waiting for Anna Farris’ chance to escape the clutches of mediocrity.

That’s it for this week’s special “Another Movie Guy?”! Tune in next week when I’m in favor of my execution.

A Drink A Day: Gimlet

When the delightful Danielle asked me to cover her “A Drink A Day” column this morning, my thoughts turned immediately to gin. This is not because I’m an avid gin drinker. I like the stuff, but as anyone who has spent time in a bar with me can attest, I’m a whiskey man. I turn to gin because I remember that Danielle is not a fan, and I’ve long felt that the most flavorful of clear liquors is criminally underrepresented in this column.

Gimlet

• 2 oz gin (I prefer Hendrick’s)
• 1/2 oz lime juice

Mix and serve in an old fashioned glass. Garnish with lime. Simple, right? Sometimes the best cocktails are. Originally I thought I’d write up a classic martini, but decided against it because a) I’ve had martini discussions devolve into bitter feuds and b) it’s going to be a gloriously warm weekend, and it doesn’t seem right to consume a martini outside. One should celebrate warm weather appropriately, and a gimlet feels right. Also, I thought it best to recommend a cocktail that could conceivably be consumed by the staff of Sterling Cooper.

Enjoy the warm weekend! And don’t worry – Danielle will be back with a vengeance on Monday.