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Superman Returns
“I sincerely hope you get this message. I’m disgusted with the media. I’m looking at the new Superman boy and the reason they hired him was because he’s basically got Chris Reeves’ mouth and voice pretty much and he’s slightly different. It’s like being in love with a celebrity and meeting a girl looks slightly like her with supreme character defects. Not the fucking same, hello! Kate Bosworth, oh my God! She looks like she had face work, man. She had serious face work done. She doesn’t look right, man. That and the fucking Val Kilmer family on that fucking Geico commercial. I’m just disgusted with the media. Why don’t they fucking show us the real thing? Why don’t the show us human personality? Something about the human condition, you know? Not this fucking Hollywood glitz. It’s out of hand. Sodom and Gomorrah! And you know what? Sodom and Gomorrah burned because if it. They BURNED because of it! We need to nuke Los Angeles, Michael! We need to do this! We need to get uranium! We need to nuke them! We’ve got to do it while the iron’s hot, man. Now Patriot Act and all that--got to be careful…!” -Voicemail from Tom Maccio, 7/3/06 8:08 PM
But it’s different this time! Instead of a buddy movie with Richard Pryor or a battle with a solar-powered mullet head, Superman returns to Earth after a five-year mission to Krypton upon a rumor of the planet’s survival. Aside from asking its audience to forget that Superman III and IV were ever made, it shows us how Superman copes with the fact that the world has gotten along without him and returns to find Lois Lane has a son and a new man. Oh, and Lex Luthor still wants Superman dead. Bring a book! Jesus! I know that Superman isn’t even close to being one of the most interesting superheroes, but put forth some effort here! I don’t even know where to start! Let’s start with the piss poor script. When I first heard the deal with Superman Returns, I was thinking benefit of the doubt considering the talent involved. Bryan Singer (X-Men 1 and 2, The Usual Suspects) directing and Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor. I knew I’d be there, but I just wasn’t sure when. But about halfway through the movie I was wishing that Superman got sucked into a black hole during his opening credits journey back. When he wasn’t spewing out the 8 lines of dialogue he had, he was moping around over Lois Lane or thinking about chimpanzees wrestling with cats. Then apparently in his five-year absence, Superman forgot that Clark Kent is supposed to be a geek and not dress out of an Eddie Bauer catalog (nothing screams “dork” like Armani glasses and a hundred-dollar haircut). Then we’ve got Lois Lane—now with an extra bad perm and 99% less tenacity. I know she’s got the grossly underused plot device of a kid in tow, but get a frickin’ nanny already! And whoever came up with this kinder, gentler Perry White crap seriously needs a punch in the neck. But what really took the cake was Lex Luthor’s master plan. Yeah, let’s put up Section 8 versions of the Fortress of Solitude everywhere and rent them out. Were the guys who wrote this slop smoking crack behind a Motel 6 dumpster when they thought this one up? And not one mention of Truth, Justice and The American Way. And let’s not forget how great everyone’s performances were. I’m convinced (as is Maccio) that Brandon Routh was hired to play Superman for the sole reason that he slightly resembles Christopher Reeve and not for his acting ability. He acts with the 57,856 hours of weight training and the costume. Then there’s the matter of Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane. I haven’t seen a casting decision this bad since Keanu Reeves was cast as a guy with too much information in his head as Johnny Mnemonic. I think 6 pieces of toast could’ve done a better job as Lois Lane. WILLIAM SHATNER WOULD’VE DONE A BETTER JOB AS LOIS LANE! AL UTHMAN WOULD’VE BEEN A BETTER LOIS LANE! And as for Kevin Spacey’s performance as Luthor—I can at least say I now know what it would be like to witness disappointment and anticlimax get into a horrible, horrible car accident. Spacey was the perfect Luthor, as his performance was as dull as Routh’s Superman/Clark Kent. The only thing that could have possibly justified this much moroseness in what is supposed to be the biggest comic book movie ever is a brain tumor. But all this ranting is not to suggest Superman Returns was an entirely horrible movie. I saw it in 3D at the IMAX. The effects were amazing and justified what would have normally been an inflated ticket price. Pair these mind-blowing effects with amazing and often Christ-like imagery and you’ve got a 200 million dollar piece of beautiful eye candy. So yeah, it’s your typical summer movie. I’d recommend seeing it on a big screen, more importantly in IMAX 3D because frankly you’re not going to get the same bang out of it even if you’ve got a great home theater system. However, I’d also recommend that before you get all excited to see a comic book movie that you ask yourself what that particular hero is about and what they instill in the citizens of their particular city. Superman happens to be about hope and he happens to have the powers of a god, not to mention that he’s not even human. When all is said and done a comic book movie is only as good or as interesting as its hero. Superman Returns proves this. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl was actually a pretty enjoyable movie despite the fact that it had Jerry Bruckheimer’s name on it. Johnny Depp turned out a fun and clever performance while channeling a gay Keith Richards and earning an Oscar nomination as Jack Sparrow. Pirates also showcased a breakthrough performance from Keira Knightley as it offered plenty of fun sword fights, comedy and spooky special effects. It almost made you forget that it was based on a ride at Disney World. But when all was said and done, Johnny Depp was the main draw.
I was such a rube. Unfortunately I didn’t realize this until things started to get worse and worse for our heroes to the point where the only thing that could turn it all around for them was another movie. I don’t care that I was mildly entertained for the better part of 3 hours or that I got to see a squid man smoke a pipe. It wasn’t as fun as Curse of the Black Pearl and Keira Knightley was dressed up as a man in the few scenes she was in. Bah! There’s a reason I don’t shop at Rent A Center or order appetizers before dinner. I want it all in one shot. I like things self-contained and I hate cliffhangers. It’s one thing when you’re trying to land a pixiesque Jewish princess, but escapism is an entirely different animal. Few things piss me off more than having to wait months or years on end to find out What Happens Next even though you’ve got a really good idea what will happen. Part of Curse of the Black Pearl’s appeal was that it was a bit more than typical mindless summer movie time entertainment. It had a certain freshness and resolve that isn’t often found at the theaters during the summer months. More importantly, it seemed to appeal to everyone while spawning a new generation of pirate fetishists. Now with this suspenseful installment garbage, it’s becoming less like fun and more like a mortgage. Black Pearl was kind of like someone making a good impression on you and becoming your friend. It’s good to make new friends, right? But Dead Man’s Chest was more like your new pal who’s hanging out at your place and eating all your food, crashing on your couch and borrowing cash. He’s all take take take with not much give give give. Oh, and he wants to crash with you until late Fall 2007. Did you pick up any more beer? Click
It’s a little known fact that the 1990 movie Pretty Woman wasn’t originally written as a Pygmalionesque Cinderella story about a hooker with a heart of gold. It wasn’t a fun little chick flick with a happy ending. It was initially a dark and depressing love story where the Richard Gere character dumps all over the Julia Roberts character throughout the movie before throwing her out of the limo at the end. I’d have loved to see that.
As Sandler uses his all-powerful remote control to scroll through the parts of his life that are too stressful or too boring, he discovers that most of his life has passed him by. And as I encountered every of the numerous notes that Click missed, I became more and more convinced that this could have been a great movie. It reminded me of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind at points, but it decided to go the road of sophomoric and less than witty physical humor. And nothing says playing it smart like sticking David Hasselhoff on the credits. Yay! I feel so much better knowing that I must suffer and that it builds character like a large-scale paper route. Debt actually is a great thing. So is knowing that I can’t eat hot salsa without running the risk of shitting Nagasaki. Nothing makes me feel better than working almost 60 hours a week between 3 jobs because I love EVERY GODDAMNED MINUTE OF IT!!! And if there was a DVD of my life the first chapter I’d go to is the one(s) where I realize that I’ve made a very big mistake. Oh goody. Click is actually a terrific downer and don’t let Adam Sandler’s big, dopey head convince you otherwise. Oh sure, you’ll giggle a few times but when you leave that theater and walk into the blinding sunlight you’re going to probably be depressed and wonder what the hell you’ve done with your own life. The marketing department that sold Click was very clever in getting its audience to believe that Adam Sandler was going to make their problems go away for a better part of two hours. It reminded me of another marketing ploy, for the DVD release of The Matador. It was a brilliant comedy/buddy movie. If you see commercials for it or even look at the artwork on the DVD, you’ll notice that it gives you the impression you’ll be watching a smarmy action movie with plenty of violence, loads of gunplay and no laughs, when nothing could be further from the truth. Seeing this movie for the sole purpose of entertainment was like going on a blind date with a snaky ex-girlfriend and having her try to convert you over to Scientology for 2 hours as she fills her once-kissable face with fried okra and cornbread. You also have to ditch the idea of getting drunk just so that cold sore doesn’t come anywhere near you, which is something that’s not going into the plus column. And if you’re not running for the door yet, the fact that her new favorite singer is Pink could very well result in your suicide right there at the table. Where’s that special remote control when you need it? The Devil Wears Prada
Now here’s a movie that in theory could have been amusing at best. You’ve got Anne Hathaway whom I enjoy looking at very much, despite suffering from SBLS (Susceptible to Bad Lighting Syndrome) from time to time. She can look downright Downy sometimes. Then we’ve got Meryl Streep, who was a beautiful creature who has turned into a handsome woman. She consistently turns out great performances while lending an air of graceful credibility to anything she works on. So we’ve got an up and coming hottie starring in a movie with the Hera of living American Actresses. You get to drool a little on yourself as you catch a good performance. Sometimes the movie’s a drag but she was usually good. What can we stick them in together? How about a young Midwesterner moving to the Big City and her fashion magazine Boss From Hell?
But he would have an apocalyptic vision during a state of boredom and talk about how much better this movie would be if it had ninjas, sword wielding skeletons and an Evil Knievel stunt footage segment. Either that or make glib remarks throughout the remainder. Usually the latter. The reason for this was that there are only two types of people who will like this movie, fag hags and their gay boyfriends. Nothing wrong there, but you should bring a book if you’re a straight guy. I brought a book and it was actually the novel of The Devil Wears Prada. Nah, I don’t even own that book. Maccio ranted about DC Comics and uranium for 67 minutes. |
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While
this message from Tom Maccio all but sums up our uncontrolled
and often absurd misadventures together, the man isn’t far
off concerning Superman Returns. By the time this issue
hits the stands, there will be practically no one who would
not have seen a big red S somewhere as The Man of Steel
has come out of 19 year-long hibernation (minus a pair of
misfired TV series.) 
So
because of the success of the first movie, Bruckheimer and
crew have been working feverishly to film the second and third
installments simultaneously. As with any movie that’s filmed
at the same time with another one, there’s something missing
(think Back to the Future 3). Oh sure, the next installment
of Pirates of the Caribbean, Dead Man’s Chest has a
lot of the things that made Curse of the Black Pearl
so enjoyable: Johnny Depp’s silliness, Keira Knightley in
a push-up corset, thieving monkeys and swashbuckling action.
But something was wrong with Dead Man’s Chest. Many
of the jokes alluded to the previous movie, but when all was
said and done, Dead Man’s Chest served one purpose
and one purpose alone: setting it up for Pirates of the
Caribbean: At World’s End. In other words, you’re spending
money in order to spend more money. 
I
thought about this when I was watching Click, the new
Adam Sandler movie where he comes across a remote control
that allows him to weave through his life as if it had a chapter
search on a DVD. How many times have you sat on the couch,
baked out of your gourd as you not so violently flipped though
the channels and thought to yourself, how awesome would
it be if this remote control worked on my life? Yeah,
me neither. And what I thought about even less than this was
how much I’d like to see this potentially oxygen-deprived
premise made into a movie, or how I’d love to see Adam Sandler
in it.
This
is the kind of movie that would drive Tom Maccio into a living
coma. He would talk in detailed, yet chaotic rantings about
movies like this. He would discuss it in terms of Milf factor,
Overall Fashion Sense and Drag Queen Sensibilities. For Maccio,
Streep would win for the first and the third counts, but he
would adore Hathaway’s wardrobe and “guns” enough to award
her for the second. When he’d get bored he would spout obscenities
at the screen whether he was alone or not. Peanut butter
fuck bucket was a favorite of his. 
