How to Lose Friends and Alienate People (2008)

Directed by Robert B. Weide. Is there any real-life profession more subject to cinematic mythology than the journalist? Is there any wider gulf than the one between the reality of the real-life journalist and the movie journalist? The lives of doctors, lawyers and even models and actors are portrayed more exciting than they really are, but writers -- man, this is a whole other league of fantasy. Ever since Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman tore it up in "All the President's Men," the Fourth Estate has been portrayed as a combination between a funhouse and the Playboy Club.

In a way this movie tries to correct all that by moving "The Devil Wears Prada" to a magazine (presumably based on "Vanity Fair," with Jeff Bridges in the Meryl Streep role being a big prick portraying VF's editor Graydon Carter). But by trying to create a fish-out-of-water plot for earnest newcomer Sidney Young (Simon Pegg), the movie just creates a whole new set of hogwash.

See, poor but earnest Sidney arrives at the magazine to find its writers and editors seem more interested in advancing their individual careers rather than putting out a good magazine. Articles are nothing more than promotional vehicles for media figures who have agreed to appear on the magazine's cover. Sidney is outraged! He offers chance-taking ideas and submits examples of a bold, new direction that are met with sneers and bullying. "I think you know how the game is played," he's told. At one point, a publicist sitting inside a limo closes the window on his fingers, forcing him to his knees on the wet pavement outside. "Beg me to write a profile of my client," she says, before driving off.

What it all reminded me of is people who are bitter about high school. Maybe they weren't popular. Maybe they wished they could hang around with the most visible people or go to the most visible parties, but they didn't. And they imagined that the people who did were evil and loved to hurt others, as opposed to simply enjoying themselves without a second thought -- a line dangerously close to being vapid and among many, an Olympic-quality broad jump over that line.

The real-life equivalents of the journalists and editors in "How to Lose Friends and Alienate People" aren't evil, they're just vapid. They're perfectly happy to trade cover photos for interviews, pass off PR as gossip, and pass off exploitation as investigative journalism.

And it doesn't make a bit of difference. In the movie world, when a magazine article comes out, everyone knows about it, the phone is ringing off the hook, people are stopping the writer on the street and either buying him drinks or throwing garbage at him. It's just stupid. In real life, nothing happens. Writers go home. They go to bed. Nobody cares.

To be fair, the only way to accurately film a metaphor for the real life of a journalist might be to set up a surveillance camera in a hen house, where the chickens just sit in pens in the dark, dutifully laying eggs and getting fat. Though who'd watch that?

The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard (2009)

Directed by Neal Brennan. I have read and heard through Hollywood gossip that Jeremy Piven (who stars in this movie) is an asshole, though the stories people tell to illustrate the point don't sound all that different from any other story you've ever heard of a Hollywood asshole. Which doesn't get him off the hook, it just means that he is probably not a unique form of asshole, just a bigger one than normal.

That's the way this movie is. It's not very good. It's one of those mean-spirited comedies where the characters are all cut from some weird one-dimensional cloth bought from that textile mill the Farrelly Brothers founded 15 or so years ago. If you fill a movie with enough of them, nobody has to have an actual conversation. Each character just needs to lean in every now and then and do something crazy that fulfills their wacky quirk: racist, creepy gay, child molester, sassy black, nutty Asian, evil boyfriend -- you get the idea.

Pretty much all of this flick takes place on a car lot, where I have been spending some time. I crashed my car on Route 128 just outside of Lexington, Mass. a couple of weeks ago, hydroplaning on some slush in the left lane, and sliding across four lanes of rush hour traffic and caroming off guard rails on both sides like a pinball, and forcing some poor soul in a minivan to T-bone the passenger side of my Mazda. Fortunately there wasn't even a ding. Just kidding, it was totaled. So I'm negotiating to buy a Prius, which goes sort of like this:

ME: "Here's a stupid low amount I don't expect to pay for your ugly ass car."
THEM: "Here's a broomstick I plan to shove up your ass, as well as a higher figure I know you won't pay for this death trap that you are a fool for buying."
ME: "How's about we split the difference?"
THEM: "O.K. Want a cup of coffee?"
ME: "I take it black."

And that's how it works. This movie may or may not have been inspired by the 2004 John Landis-directed documentary "Slasher," which I highly recommend. "Slasher" studies Michael Bennett, a sandpaper-voiced sales expert called in by used car lots to help clear out old inventory. As you might expect, a guy like Bennett has a complicated past and some personality issues and "Slasher" exhibits this with a detached fascination.

In "The Goods," Jeremy Piven attempts to portray the same sort of character, make you like him, and resolve the conflict. The problem is that handling this kind of mean-spirited comedy is almost like heart surgery and in the wrong hands it has no warmth, you don't like anybody and it just doesn't work.

Actually, this isn't 100% true. Will Ferrell has a surprise cameo and his boundless charisma pushes through the flick's limitations, easily making his two scenes the most likable, especially the laugh-out-loud first one. Try to find it on YouTube, otherwise don't bother.

Trailer for "Ride Rise Roar" (2010)

Directed by Hillman Curtis. Have a look at the trailer for Ride Rise Roar, the David Byrne concert film (premiering March 14 at SXSW in Austin, Texas) and see if you don't agree that it looks like it just might be as beautiful and exciting as 1984's "Stop Making Sense."

Unless you are my Dad, odds are you're aware that "Stop Making Sense" is the 1984 concert film of Byrne's art-pop act, Talking Heads (by Jonathan Demme) that could have revolutionized concert films had anybody bothered to pick up the gauntlet.

Prior to "Stop Making Sense," concert films tended to be horribly boring. For one thing, rock artists did not bother to think about what elements of their performance might or might not translate interestingly to film. This meant that, other than maybe Neil Young, nobody thought to produce a show that catered especially to the film goer. Also, it hadn't occurred to anybody to shoot concerts with the lights on, something movie film desperately needs to work -- especially prior to the advent of digital video. This resulted in dark, grainy films that strain the eyes.

"Stop Making Sense" was a beautiful revelation, with its brightly lit, tastefully minimal stage set. In fact, minimalism was a deceptively satirical theme in the show's subtle attention to a movie's three-act narrative structure. Simply put, the film is beautiful to look at and a joy to watch.

Unapologetically artsy, "Stop Making Sense" manages to balance its intellectual presentation without ever feeling pretentious. In the same way that "This is Spinal Tap" earned its smirk with spot-on satire, "Stop Making Sense" earns its straight-faced artiness with sound, color, movement, beauty and an overall uniqueness the likes of which had never before been seen.

The film barely grossed $1 million when it was released, though it's soundtrack record sold well. In retrospect, a very fortunate thing happened -- nothing. The success of high concept music videos for marketing music pretty much guaranteed we wouldn't see a bunch of shitty imitations of "Stop Making Sense" featuring the Police and Van Halen. Instead, Billy Idol punched the air, David Lee Roth swung from a wire, Madonna rolled around in a lot of outfits.

Now, almost 25 years later, we can hope that Ride Rise Roar holds a candle to "Stop Making Sense."

Must Love Dogs (2005)

Directed by Gary David Goldberg. I'm going to go ahead and call this a must-see for students of Hollywood film-making. I've been accused of being cynical but even the purest, least jaded and most optimistic fan of movies would have to notice that this movie is not actually about anything.

Since "Serendipity" made me want to jump into the screen, "Sherlock Jr."-style and slit the throats of its characters, it probably was not smart to see another John Cusack rom-com this soon. So part of me is tempted to give the benefit of doubt to just being short tempered after that whole debacle, but I don't think that's the case. I'm not mad at this movie like I was at "Serendipity" (which portrayed sociopaths as romantics and their abused fiancees as foolish shrews). In fact, I almost want to see this again to make sure there is as little going on here as I think there is.

In fact, I'm not sure where Netflix gets their plot summaries, but the one they have online for this movie is a big fat lie. It claims this is about two people courting but both pretending they own dogs because they met under the premise of loving dogs. While this may have been in an early draft of the script and used as the marketing platform for the flick, by the final cut not only were no dogs harmed in the making of this film, virtually no dogs were used at all. In truth, there are a couple, but they're here about as much as "Animal House" uses a horse.

This is the weirdest spoiler alert ever because there is nothing to spoil. This movie tells the story of Sarah (Diane Lane) and Jake (Cusack), two good-looking white people who just ended unhappy marriages and are looking for new relationships. Their respective friends and families try to hook them up and recommend online resources. They date around a bit and have some odd experiences. Around the middle of the story they meet each other and there's some attraction. By the end of the movie they're willing to acknowledge that if they are going to find love with each other, they'll need to be honest with themselves and each other. That's it. How many people do you know who have lived this?

Especially during the '90s there were a lot of independent and foreign films that played like those New Yorker type short stories that simply study a character and don't feel a lot of pressure to let a lot happen. They just sort of end with a feeling of "isn't life kind of ironic sometimes." This wasn't even like that. I think this movie is for people with so few problems, they will think that the few things that happen here on screen count as a plot.

It's like the blandest movie ever made. Highly recommended.

Jennifer's Body (2009)

Directed by Karyn Kusama. If you have always dreamed of seeing a possessed Megan Fox vomit black acid while devouring the flesh of her lovers then this is the movie for you. No, this is not a backstage documentary of the making of "Transformers 2" -- hahahaha! It's her first "topline" role, meaning her first movie where the poster isn't of a robot. Also, Diablo Cody ("Juno") wrote the screenplay.

I would say this movie would be greatly aided by robots or anything that made "Juno" good, which probably means either being directed by Jason Reitman or just being a different movie. My guess is that when "Juno" broke it was time for Diablo Cody to grab any script lying around her apartment and this was left over from some forgotten screenplay workshop. Megan Fox plays Jennifer, a metaphoric maneater who becomes a real-life one once she is possessed by a supernatural force.

But Jennifer isn't to be saved, she's to be slayed because the hero of the pic is her best friend Needy (get it?), who is played by Amanda Seyfried ("Mean Girls," "Mama Mia!") and looks a lot like Jan Brady in this. For the first half of the film there is subtext that Jennifer is SO HOT that Needy has been wrestling with homosexual thoughts her whole life. This is subtle until the actual point that subtlety is put aside and they just make out a lot. But Needy knows and declares ("This is crazy!") that Jennifer must be killed along with those nasty lesbian tendencies.

The great question is whether Megan Fox is hot enough to make this all worth bothering with. These movies are designed to keep you questioning that to the end, when it's too late to bother.

The Legend of Bagger Vance (2000)

Directed by Robert Redford. "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" is the "Citizen Kane" of movies in which a magical black man teaches whitey the ways of life. Sidney Poitier is the all-time great go-to guy for that role, not just in "Dinner" but in a zillion other films with a similar theme, some good, others not so good. Will Smith starred in 1993's "Six Degrees of Separation," a thinly veiled companion piece to statement by his publicist to make him the Sidney Poitier of a new generation.

Although similarly themed, "Six Degrees of Separation" was not bad and "The Legend of Bagger Vance" is a steaming pile of horse shit. The irony of the title is, of course, is that all 126 minutes of this movie go by without the audience learning one bit of the legend of Bagger Vance. Bagger is an incredibly minor character in this tale. This story is about white golfers and pretty young debutants, while Smith's character of Bagger, could easily be replaced by a magical leprechaun.

I think it's supposed to be fascinating how he appears out of nowhere, helps everybody, and then when he feels like he's done his job, walks off into the night, but if you're not stupid, you will understand that this is just a bullshit cop out. There is NO LEGEND OF BAGGER VANCE. The guy actually a celebratory minstrel-style shuffle dance on his way off-screen. For the leprechaun it would be a little jig. It would have made as much sense to animate Sonny, the Cocoa Puffs Bird into this role.

I'll say this, these days a lot of people write about shitty movies and say, 'this was so bad I can't even say it was so bad it was good.' But I think this was. This was so bad it was good. So have some friends over. Recommended.

Public Enemies (2009)

Directed by Michael Mann. In this incredibly challenging acting role, Johnny Depp makes the life of John Dillinger seem boring. Good God. Historically accurate right down to seeming to take place in real time over the course of many years, this movie is bewildering. Just how can a story so real, so accurately told, and so well acted be so goddamn bland? There just doesn't seem to be any chemistry between anybody here, nobody has any charisma, nothing works. In a way, it's fascinating. At times, Johnny Depp seems influenced by Ray Liotta's turn as Henry Hill in "Good Fellas," and the overall sprawl of this seems to want to have the electricity of Brian DePalma's delightful 1987 retelling of "The Untouchables." But this desperately needed Robert DeNiro to walk on and do something broad, historically inaccurate and entertaining. When the FBI finally catches up with Dillinger and shoots him in the head, you can't help but think his greatest crime was boring you. In case you're curious, there is no mention of Dillinger's legendarily huge honker. Supporting player Christian Bale does not use his Batman voice, though Marion Cotillard, who played Dillinger's Chicago-born girlfriend should have tried that, because she couldn't hide her French accent for crap. Also, Leelee Sobieski is growing up to look less like a midget version of Helen Hunt, but no less peculiar than when she did.