I haven’t seen “The Other Guys.” Like Wahlberg. Like Ferrell. But the trailer looked hideous. Now, however, I might have to break down if the whole movie is like this scene, which seems to be an exercise in who refuses to break onscreen while Ferrell continues to improvise circles around everyone. The entire scene you can see both guys barely holding it together. I’m guessing oh, fifteen, twenty takes to get this exchange?

Case in point: the “Plums” scene in Eastbound & Down. Robinson and McBride are helpless while Ferrell just has his way with them (NSFW).

I met a guy last night who said, “I refuse to subscribe to the idea that there’s any sort of class war going to happen.” I said, “Brother, your canary just died, and you’re pretending it’s taking a peaceful nap. This shit is ON.”

There’s a great, short little featurette on the iTunes site about wrapping up shooting on the last HP movie. As much as the Harry Potter books tell a story about children growing up, making the Harry Potter movies are about real children growing up in the process of making them. It’s kinda sweet, go check it out.

Simmons on his (and my) complete mystification of all things Kevin James:

I took my daughter to see Super 8 last week … they showed a preview for The Zoo Keeper and she laughed her ass off for three minutes, then said, “I want to see that one!” That’s when the Kevin James Era finally made sense for me. By the way, taking her to Super 8 wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had, but it has to rank in the top 10.

I’ve loved Grantland and the Grantland model since its inception- it’s a bold, brilliant move that I think really works: a literary super-team of  writers that sit in their Hall of Typerwriters (they’re all steam-punk and shit with leather codpieces- the atosphere is part City of Lost Children, part Sky Captain) and send out the occasional Mark Twain-style missive that keeps rock bands, NBA stars and terrifyingly aspirational Will Smiths of the world honest. And then, cuddle up in their plasma-ed Man Caves to debate how Pavement’s is the Detlef Schrempf of indie rock albums.

Bring the boys back home.

“Yeah, Aqualung!”

Gee, I really could give this a proper introduction, but please spend a few minutes with Adam. You’ll find him annoying and kind of dumb, well, you’ll find him to be everything you’ve always thought was true about a fifteen-year-old boy. Hey, look at that! I gave it a proper introduction afterall.

No one had a tone like that. No one did more with 8 measures than he did. Rest in peace.

There’s no way I’m buying his reggae album now. Reggae is about peace, AM I RIGHT?

Don’t get too much joy in your cereal:

See their playfulness, oh Sons of Jefferson, and quail!

You’re kidding me, right? Four wars, unprosecuted financial robber-barons, eroding civil liberties, unprecedented attacks on democratic unions, and an insanely bloated military industrial complex.

Go f*ck yourself, John.

(Stewart’s take-down of the whole ridiculous charade here.)

Sith Attack!!!

Thank God Indiana Solo has the fastest ship in the galaxy. He can “get ‘er out on the Falcon.” Let’s go!!!

Uh-oh. Here come the Sith. How many lightsabers? I don’t know. How many can you EFFING HANDLE, CHUMP?!?

Thank the Maker that Obi Wan DevilHornObi can sacrifice himself so that Lucia can Jackie Chan her way to the Falcon and they can “get to those guns/don’t get cocky kid” while getting ready for the hyperdrive and fly through a Destroyer like a Death Star trench and then they can OH WHO GIVES TWO SHITS.

Have none of these guys watched Red Letter Media?

That being said, the thing is effin’ gorgeous. The uncanny valley is almost gone, the movement is fluid, the sets are unbelievable, and the overall design is really spectacular. It’s a beautiful trailer that could’ve been directed by Micheal Bay. Every character looks like a superhero (yawn). The tropes are all there, in mind-numbingly predictable fashion. If everyone in your “film” (even if created by CG) is beautiful (or beautifully scarred/ugly/EVIL), well, your story probably sucks. And this one does.

But none of this should stop Lucas from casting me in the live action Star Wars. Just sayin’. I’d ugly up that stuff with some authentic cynicism, lemme tell ya.

Remember, people: the tears of David Stern, Pat Riley, Lebron James, Bosh and Wade can repair the polar ice caps. They can clean rivers, repair crumbling infrastructure, and put Goldman Sachs CEOs in jail. They can regrow amputated limbs, salamander-style. They can give everyone mutant powers: flight, invisibility, or Adriana Lima-attracting-musk.

Ask Marko Jaric. Wade cried on him once.

And would you be sewprissed if I toweld yew, that’s theres no Rudolph MacFroody in the whole countystate of Mississsipi-alabama?

On the first take, John Grisley’s The Trial looks like a really clumsy Danish attempt at the micro-genre of Southern Courtroom Drama. You may experience a period of confusion where it’s difficult to tell who exactly is being made fun of. Is this artfully-crafted schlock or painfully sincere European imitation from the early nineties? Apparently the Swedish comedy collective Grotesco have suffered through as much of our bad tv as we have.

The technique is kinda brilliant in it’s simplicity: the words “how can I defend you if I can’t trust you?” is whimpered by lawyers in approximately 87% of legal dramas. It’s a phrase that should be in a home for battered cliches. Grotesco toys with your recognition of these tropes by showing that you still recognize them, even when they are delivered as near-rhymes or peppered with complete nonsense. The result is shame-inducing: “My god, did I really watch this exact same story that many times?”

Note for note, it is one of the most cutting mockeries of American middlebrow genre work that I’ve ever seen. I can tell you that Part 2 has a surprise ending, and you will still be surprised.

Part 1

Part 2