Joy

Whenever I feel blue, I can count on this clip of Joseph Gordon-Levitt from Marc Webb's (500) Days of Summer to lift my spirits. Go ahead: I dare you not to smile while you watch it.

'Rite of the Sitting Dead' -- or, Dead but enjoying it

Over at Hollywood Elsewhere, Jeffrey Wells posted a link to this New York Times article about funerals in my hometown of New Orleans and elsewhere that... that... well, as writers Campbell Robertson and Frances Robles note, "put the 'fun' in funeral."

The NYT piece begins by focusing on a wake at the Charbonnet-Labat Funeral Home for Miriam Burbank (pictured above), "who died at 53 and spent her service sitting at a table amid miniature New Orleans Saints helmets, with a can of Busch beer at one hand and a menthol cigarette between her fingers, just as she had spent a good number of her living days." (Must admit: The strategically placed bottle of Jack Daniels in the background is the perfect touch.)

Not surprisingly, the chronically uptight Mr. Wells disapproved of such activity. Me? If I had any choice in the matter, I'd be displayed at my wake propped up in a movie theater-style seat, pen in one hand and a notepad in the other, while a DVD player ran continuous loops of The 400 Blows and In the Heat of the Night on a nearby big-screen TV. Laissez les bons temps rouler, dah-lins!

Your choice?

Hangin' with Kevin Hart

So I had to ask Kevin Hart: "Is that a Z shirt?" He said no -- but laughed, because he, too, loved the Saturday Night Live sketch. You can read my IndieWire Q&A with this weekend's box-office champ here.

Francois Truffaut, Catherine Deneuve, Gerard Depardieu & Richard Roud at 1980 New York Film Festival

While trying to bring order out of chaos in my ridiculously cluttered home office this afternoon, I happened upon a shoebox filled with old photos. And lo and behold: I found these pictures I took at the 1980 New York Film Festival press conference for The Last Metro. Then, as now, my skills as a shutterbug leave something to be desired. Still, these shots of François Truffaut, Catherine Deneuve, Gérard Depardieu and festival director Richard Roud bring back very happy memories.

(BTW: I am forever indebted to Philip Wuntch, my former colleague at the Dallas Morning News. Back in the day, Philip was the lead film critic and I was a lowly arts & entertainment staff writer. But he was impossibly decent to me, and signed off on my having some pretty sweet film-related assignments. Like... well, like covering the New York Film Festival.)

Keyboard Cat: The Sequel

And he's playing "96 Tears." Of course.

Trailer Park: Liam Neeson kicks ass -- again -- in A Walk Among the Tombstones

It's written and directed by Scott Frank, an ace scripter (Get Shorty, Minority Report, Out of Sight) whose debut effort as a multihyphenate, The Lookout, quite impressed me. And it's got Liam Neeson doing his moody badass thing -- which can be a lot of fun -- as novelist Lawrence Block's tarnished antihero, alcoholic ex-cop Matthew Scudder. A safe bet: Fans of the Block books likely will enjoy A Walk Among the Tombstones a lot more than the only other previous movie adaptation of a Scudder story, Hal Ashby's critically mauled 1986 thriller 8 Million Ways to Die.

Here's the trailer:

Maya Angelou? Yep, I discovered her, too!

Unfortunately, Maya Angelou never found time to direct more than one movie, despite the favorable Variety review I gave to her 1998 debut effort as a feature filmmaker, Down in the Delta.

Actually, I wasn't the only one who was impressed: Roger Ebert gave it a rave. Better still, he and Gene Siskel both gave it a thumbs-up on their TV show. (Take a look here -- their joint appraisal begins around the 4:15 mark.)

Despite all that praise, however, the late, great lady never made another movie. I guess she was too busy making history.

They're mad as hell, and they're not going to take it anymore

MAD AS HELL from sean fahey on Vimeo.

The volcanically angry rant from Network gets a new spin in this attention-grabbing promo for Bailout 2 -- which, of course, is the sequel to Bailout.

Trailer Park: Into the Storm -- Cheese whiz!

Ironically, I saw this trailer before the new Godzilla. Ironically, I say, because the special effects on view here -- particularly in the final seconds -- appear to be no better than the miniature work in Toho-produced Zilla Thrillers of the 1960s.

Godzilla: A brief history of The Original Gangsta Lizard

Much like Madonna, Matthew McConaughey and Miley Cyrus, Godzilla illustrates a time-honored showbiz dictum: The best way to sustain your superstardom is to repeatedly reinvent yourself.

During six decades of Japanese-produced low-tech monster mashes and made-in-America CGI-stuffed spectacles, Big G has remained au courant through the miracle of image makeovers. From nuclear-age nightmare to doting single parent, from freelance global defender to butt-kicking tag-team wrestler, he has evolved and developed, evincing a versatility that might make Meryl Streep turn green – or, perhaps more appropriately, charcoal gray – with envy.

In Godzilla, slated to open this weekend at theaters and drive-ins everywhere, The Original Gangsta Lizard has a bit less spring to his step, and a tad more spread to his waistline. But never mind: Even as he approaches eligibility for Social Security, Big G remains ever ready to rumble, and authoritatively defends his title as King of the Monsters in this terrifically exciting flick.

Of course, it helps that he has in his corner Gareth Edwards, a filmmaker who, suitably enough, first attracted attention with a 2010 movie titled Monsters. Edwards’ latest creature feature benefits greatly from the director’s ability to pull off a tricky balancing act: While ingeniously reimagining the legend, he also respectfully acknowledges the tradition. In short, he lets Godzilla be Godzilla.

The mythos began in 1954, when the Toho Company of Japan introduced Big G as Gojira, a rudely reawakened dinosaur who developed toxic halitosis and an extremely bad attitude after exposure to H-bomb testing in the South Pacific. (The plot device of mutation through radiation was profoundly impactful on Japanese moviegoers less than a decade after the nuking of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.) Growling and grouchy, the fire-breathing behemoth sauntered though Tokyo with a sumo-wrestler shamble while burning buildings, gobbling trains, stomping bit players, and generally making an epic nuisance of himself.

Two years later, legendary producer Joseph E. Levine and a group of associates renamed the movie and its eponymous star when they released Godzilla, King of the Monsters, a redubbed and re-edited version of picture designed for English-speaking audiences. Some of the Toho-produced footage was trimmed to allow for new scenes featuring Raymond Burr as a gravely serious journalist – named, no kidding, Steve Martin -- who provided the creature-feature equivalent of play-by-play commentary. (“A prehistoric monster just walked out of Tokyo Bay!” Geez, ya think?)

But none of these alterations dulled the movie's surprising power as a cautionary Cold War fable about the threat of nuclear annihilation. Keep messing with the forces of nature, Godzilla warned, and this could happen to you.

In the three sequels that followed, Godzilla continued to come across as a cranky bully who enjoyed nothing more than incinerating large portions of major urban areas. Whether he was trading punches with an ornery dude in a monkey suit (King Kong Vs. Godzilla) or trying to pluck the wings of an economy-size insect (Godzilla Vs. Mothra, a.k.a. Godzilla Vs. The Thing), Big G made The Incredible Hulk seem like a paragon of polite decorum.

But then, as though sensing audiences might be tiring of his anti-social tendencies, Godzilla transformed himself into a kinder, gentler creature. The rehabilitation process began in Ghidorah, The Three-Headed Monster (renamed Ghidrah, The Three-Headed Monster for U.S. release), a 1964 opus that introduced the infamous triple-headed beast who would go on to become Big G's most frequent foe. In the next 10 Zilla Thrillers, Big G solidified his antiheroic image as an international pop icon by repeatedly saving mankind from alien invaders and their mutant monster henchmen. In Son of Godzilla (1967), he actually became a bachelor father, adopting an orphan hatchling and teaching the Muppet-like critter how to breathe fire and stomp bad guys.

Most Zilla Thrillers of Big G's good-guy era received minimal theatrical exposure in North America. And with good reason: Badly dubbed, simplistically plotted and hopelessly cheesy, they were best suited as fodder for drive-in double bills and Saturday afternoon TV. But despite their exuberant tackiness — or maybe because of it — these are the movies that elevated Godzilla to folk-hero status among camp-savvy baby boomers and thrill-seeking Gen-Xers. Indeed, Godzilla was such a lovable cuss during the 1970s that he popped up as an animated adventurer in a TV cartoon series.

Nearly a decade after Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975), the last "good guy" Z-movie, the bigwigs at Toho decided it was time to let Godzilla again be as nasty as he wanted to be. So they reintroduced him as a fire-breathing fiend in The Return of Godzilla (1984). Once again, a U.S. distributor hired Raymond Burr for an Americanized edition, Godzilla 1985. (Trivia note: A poster for this flick appeared prominently in Roger Ebert’s office during the intro for the syndicated Siskel & Ebert TV show.) Oddly enough, however, this retrofitted version was a box-office disappointment. Maybe U.S. audiences were uncomfortable with the idea of a bad-to-the-bone Big G. Or maybe they simply preferred to see Godzilla shooting hoops with Charles Barkley in TV ads.

In any event, Toho continued to crank out sequels for domestic Japanese consumption – and sporadic home-video release in the US – until the 2004 production of Godzilla: Final Wars. They actually killed off Big G in 1995’s Godzilla vs. Destoroyah. But, of course, you can't keep a good monster down: By the end of the movie, a leaner and meaner Godzilla Jr. was ready to carry on the grand tradition of crushing innocent bystanders and blowtorching through Tokyo.

In sharp contrast to this born-again behemoth, the computer-generated creature of 1998’s American-made Godzilla was something of a wuss. Part of what has always made his Toho movies so popular is Big G’s badass, take-no-crap attitude. Even during his “good guy” phase, he was at his crowd-pleasing best whenever he was swatting buildings, flaming trains, and laughing out loud at heat-seeking missiles. But when Godzilla did Manhattan in director’s Roland Emmerich’s lavish but sluggish remake, the CGI weenie usually ran away from his attackers, and caused most of his damage by accident.

Rest assured, Gareth Edwards doesn’t make the same mistake in his new and improved Godzilla reboot. True, he mercilessly teases his audience during the first half of the film, giving us only sporadic glimpses at the title creature while employing the same delayed-gratification technique he used in Monsters. But when push comes to shove and the battle lines are drawn in the climactic Kaiju-vs.-Kaiju clash – yes, you guessed it, Godzilla isn’t the only monster in this particular mix --  Edwards’ Big G is bodaciously large and in charge, romping and stomping with a purposeful pugnacity that recalls both the whup-ass heroism of the ‘60s and ‘70s “good guy” Godzilla and the fearsome ferocity of the bad boy that razed Tokyo back in 1954.

Better still, this Godzilla – unlike Emmerich’s pretender – actually breathes fire. And let’s be honest: Isn’t  that what really makes a Godzilla movie a true Godzilla movie?  

ZILLA FACTOIDS    

If you want to pass as a diehard G-Fan, always remember: The Original Gangsta Lizard is charcoal gray, not green, in the overwhelming majority of his movies. And no, despite all the stories you’ve heard to the contrary, he doesn’t emerge victorious in the Japanese version of King Kong vs. Godzilla. To further enhance your ability to bluff, study the following factoids.

A.K.A. GODZILLA: The original Godzilla was such a smash in Japan that a sequel – Godzilla Raids Again – was rushed into production, and released domestically in 1955. Four years later, however, this follow-up was re-dubbed and restructured, and released by Warner Bros. as Gigantis, The Fire Monster. No kidding: Warners sold the movie as an original, not a sequel, featuring an entirely different creature with a completely different roar. Mothra got even less respect when Mothra vs. Godzilla (1965) was picked up for US release by American-International Pictures. That film was retitled Godzilla vs. The Thing, and sold with advertising art that depicted Godzilla fighting… a giant question mark.

BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS: Mothra had her hands full... er, her wings full... well, she had a pretty tough time of it while rehabilitating Godzilla in Ghidrah, The Three-Headed Monster (1964). When she initially approached Big G to join her and Rodan in a triple-team assault on Ghidrah (a.k.a. Ghidorah), Big G in effect bellowed: "Help those pesky humans? Fuhgedaboudit!" In the end, though, Godzilla fought the good fight because -- well, hey, a monster's got to do what a monster's got to do.

MADE IN USA: Raymond Burr appeared in scenes added to Godzilla and Godzilla 1985 by US distributors, but only one Western actor ever actually played a lead role in a Toho-produced Zilla Thriller. Monster Zero, a 1965 feature also known as Invasion of Astro-Monster, had ‘50s TV star Nick Adams (The Rebel) improbably cast as Astronaut Glenn -- no, not that Astronaut Glenn -- a blunt-spoken, two-fisted hero of the Tokyo-based World Space Authority. Rodan could flap his wings, and Godzilla might break into a victory dance, but only Adams could sneer at the evil extra-terrestrials and – in the English-language version, at least -- growl: “You rats! You stinkin’ rats!”

THE ORIGINAL SURVIVOR: During his “good guy” phase – roughly speaking, from Monster Zero to Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975) – Big G sought R&R between battles on Monster Island, a sort of creature-friendly Club Med where he swapped war stories with Mothra, Rodan and other occasional allies. Fortunately for all parties involved, no one ever suggested a tribal council to expel any pariahs.

ZILLA SPEAKS: In 1972’s Godzilla vs. Gigan (a.k.a. Godzilla on Monster Island), Big G inexplicably gained the ability to speak. Mind you, he was limited to conversations with another rubbery beastie, the spiky Anguirus, and he remained a monster of few words. ("Something funny is going on! You better check!") But the effect was jarring enough to unsettle long-time G-Fans. So much so, in fact, that the gimmick was never repeated in subsequent Zilla Thrillers.

PAST IMPERFECT: Toho waited until 1991 before spilling the beans about Godzilla’s war record.  In Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah, a densely plotted time-tripping melodrama, we learn that a pre-irradiated Big G made first contact with humankind as a long-necked dinosaur who, during World War II, helped Japanese soldiers repulse American invaders on a South Pacific island. Which, of course, may help explain why this picture never got a U.S. theatrical release.

Godzilla vs. Hitler (Major spoiler: Hitler loses)

Hitler thought King Ghidorah could beat Big G. Hitler thought wrong. (Yeah, I know: This is yet another Downfall mash-up. But, hey, I laughed.)

Godzilla, dammit!

First, I gave my students an introductory lecture about Gareth Edwards' Monsters, duly noting that Edwards had gone on to direct the new Godzilla.

Then, after I screened Monsters, ace publicist Jennifer Kane visited the class to give students passes for a Godzilla screening, Godzilla Frisbees, Godzilla dogtags and Godzilla buttons.

And then I gave the final exam, a multiple-choice test. One question: What summer blockbuster was directed by the director of Monsters: X-Men: Days of Future Past, Transformers: Age of Extinction, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes or Godzilla?

And so help me God: A few students got the question wrong.

But here's the corker: I was wearing a freakin' Godzilla T-shirt the whole time. And I even showed them this video.

Maybe I'm not really cut out for this teaching stuff after all.

Barack Obama: "Orange really is the new black."

As I have said before: Once his current gig ends in January 2017, Barack Obama should be able -- strictly on the strength of his White House Correspondents' Dinner performances -- to find steady work doing stand-up in Las Vegas. No kidding.

Bob Hoskins actually was quite effective in Super Mario Bros. But the movie itself, well...

Even some of the most respectful obits for the late, great Bob Hoskins -- who passed away Tuesday at age 71 -- contain snarky remarks about Super Mario Bros., which Hoskins himself once described as "the worst thing I ever did." So I felt compelled to dig up my original  May 29, 1993 review of the infamous box-office bust, since I honestly didn't remember it as being that bad.  And sure enough, I didn't write what I would describe as a scorched-earth pan. But... well, it wasn't a full-throated roar of approval, either.


If you loved them them on Nintendo systems and in video arcades, you may like Super Mario Bros. on the big screen. Indeed, the best audience for this chaotic and cacophonous whirligig of a movie would be video-game aces who don't need such cinematic niceties as plot and character development to have a good time.

But for those who prefer more conventional forms of entertainment, and especially for those who are baffled by any video game more complicated than Pac-Man, Super Mario Bros. may be more problematic.

The movie, which opened Friday without benefit of press previews, is aggressively dazzling with its lavish sets and computer-generated effects. And the casting of the title characters -- Mario and Luigi Mario, those dimension-hopping plumbers from the wilds of Brooklyn -- is dead-solid perfect. With the pugnacious Bob Hoskins as Mario, a blunt-spoken pragmatist, and the soulful John Leguizamo as Luigi, a dreamy-eyed innocent, the filmmakers have actors who are strong enough to be persuasive as straight-faced heroes, and engaging enough to keep from being upstaged by the neon-lit scenery.

As a whole, however, Super Mario Bros. has the feel of something that has been cobbled together with equal measures of inspiration and desperation. The movie appears at once expensive and slapdash, indicating that co-directors Rocky Morton and Annabel Jankel (creators of Max Headroom) didn't have a clear idea what they wanted to do before shooting began. Worse, it looks like they had second thoughts during filming, and third thoughts during the editing process, without ever finding a way to discipline their clever ideas with a coherent narrative. As a result, Super Mario Bros. doesn't tell a story so much as present a series of loosely linked episodes -- some quite funny, others mildly exciting, still others totally lost in the ozone. Sort of like a video game.

The screenplay by Parker Bennett, Terry Runte and Ed Solomon is a ''prequel'' to the video game, showing how Mario and Luigi evolved from hard-working plumbers to Nintendo-ready warriors. They follow a kidnapped paleontologist (Samantha Mathis) through a transdimensional portal, and wind up in a parallel world where man evolved from dinosaurs, not apes. The ruler of the reptiles is King Koopa (Dennis Hopper), a wavy-haired wacko who knows the paleontologist really is a princess, and her medallion really is a key that can merge the parallel worlds. Or something like that.

The Koopa kingdom is an amusingly tacky version of the futuristic urban wasteland of Blade Runner. Chief among its inhabitants are Goombas, half-breeds with the faces of reptiles, the bodies of Cossacks -- and, thanks to Luigi's instructions, the grace of ballroom dancers. Hopper rants and raves as Koopa, but even he can't upstage waltzing dinosaurs. As Lena, his partner in wickedness, the bosomy Fiona Shaw spends most of the movie with a naughty smile on her face. Clearly, she knows what boys like once they outgrow video games.

Compliments to the Chef

First, I give Jon Favreau's Chef a thumb's-up review at SXSW. Then, said review is blurbed in a widely disseminated trailer for the movie. Yesterday, David Carr of The New York Times gets on the bandwagon. Today, Jeff Wells complains that, so far, the meanies at Open Road haven't yet screened Chef for him. And now, tonight at the Tribeca Film Festival, Chef is announced as winner of the Heineken Audience Award. Coincidence? I don't think so.

A message for Donald Sterling from Mr. Snoop Dogg

Funnily enough, this reminds me of Ice-T's legendary introduction to the classic movie Urban Menace.

Stone Cold Steve Austin: "Which one of these motherfuckers talked to God, and God said same-sex marriage was a no-can-do?"

Hey, if it's cool with Stone Cold Steve Austin, that settles it. That's the bottom line... because Stone Cold says so. In fact, I'm sure Jodie Foster herself took these words of wisdom to heart.

Trailer Park: Chef

As I noted in my Variety review: Chef is "a lightweight but high-calorie confection in which the actors often run the risk of being upstaged by all manner of scrumptious-looking cuisine. Written and directed by Jon Favreau, who also stars as a professionally frustrated chef who earns a second helping of happiness while operating a food truck, this amiably rambling dramedy will play best with audiences primed to go with the flow of its leisurely pacing while enjoying the cross-country ride. And, of course, savoring the views of that tempting grub." I also said it's "extremely funny" -- which presumably is why I got quoted in the new trailer. Not that such things matter to me, you understand.

By the way: My quote appears around the 1:38 point.

R.I.P. Mickey Rooney (1920-2014)

In the wake of Mickey Rooney's death Sunday at age 93, much will be written -- and should be written -- about his glory days at MGM, his multiple co-star pairings with Judy Garland, and his lengthy run in the once-popular Andy Hardy franchise. But, truth to tell, I will continue to remember Rooney best for two of his finest achievements as a character actor: His brutally effective turn as the title character in Don Siegel's gritty gangster biopic Baby Face Nelson (1957), and his hilarious portrayal of a pompous retired movie star who makes the wrong people nervous when he announces plans to pen a tell-all autobiography with the help of a ghost writer (Michael Caine) in Mike Hodges' comedy-drama Pulp (1972).

Trailer Park: Scarlett Johansson in Lucy

I must admit: This looks like something I've seen before. Actually, quite a few times before. But with Scarlett Johansson doing another variation of her badass Black Widow thing, and Luc Besson in the director's chair... Well, as Robert Mitchum used to say: If it's a hot night, and the theater's air-conditioned, what the hell?