Thighs Wide Shut

The Informant!
Ripley’s Believe It or Not
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

There’s a big difference between actors and movie stars. Most movie stars blow. Matt Damon is a movie star, and yet he far from blows (he’s also Fahrvergnügen). Matty D is probably the mos endearing movie star going, and yet we take him for granted and granite. His Ocean buddies, namely Clooney and Pitt with their cocksure perma-smirks, hog all the spotlight, and yet they don’t really deserve it, at least not anymore now that they virtually play themselves from one film to the next (Vince Vaughn also suffers from the same diarrhea, and yet you people keep paying to watch him be dumb him). Well Diggty Damon may play slight variations of himself, but since he’s more of a boy next door type, obtainable to us simple folk, he is therefore someone we can easily get behind me satan. Whether he’s out-Bonding Bond as Jason Bourne, gettin serious with van Sant or having a blast in a disaster like Gilliam’s Brothers Grimm, Damon is always sharp, and as sharp as cheddar or Shannon, or even Sterling. In our humboldt opinion, he is the quintessential modern American movie star (remember, dudes like Sean Penn and Robert Downey are actors, not movie stars), and hasn’t ever been able to top his own magnificent work as the clever, calculating and Talented Mr Ripley. Until now?

Damon plays real-life whistle-blower Mark Whitacre [don’t bother clicking if you plan on seeing the film, which you probably should] in The Informant! So wait, why the exclamation mark (or is it an ‘exclamation point’?) in the title? Well, Whitacre is a slippery Tom Ripley-like character, cept he’s more awe-shucks golly-gosh, and less I’m gonna take an oar and slap you across the face with it, and Damon, playing this kinder, stoopider Ripley-like dude who’s in way over his head with this whistle-blowingness, excels like crizzzzazzy, especially spouting these funny asides about everyday life and things. + Damon’s playing the funnyman role in a movie where all the straightmen are played by funnymen (that dude from The Soup! that annoying fat guy who voiced a rat! Buster from Arrested Development! that baldy dude from 30 Rock! Biff from BTTF!!!! and although Scott Bakula isn’t a comedian, he does ruuuuuuuuule like Mercedes Ruehl!!!!!!!). All of this straight and funny is served up with a perfectly marvelous and hammy Marvin Hamlisch score, and BLAMMMM – you now sorta know, maybe not so much, why and how the film needs and has an exclamation mark/point!

But it’s not that simple, and neither is the movie itself, which does go on a bit too long even when it gets plenty interesting near the end when Damon/Whitacre keeps digging himself into a bigger hole. Credit and discredit in the same breath director Steven Soderbergh, who we deeply admire for always taking the chances that he does in moviedom, but then again, who drives us forkin nuts cause most of his movies never hit the mark (recently we were bored to tears and bored to comas with Che and The Whore Experience). Keep trying Nederbergh!! More Bubble, less burst, and of course, all the Matt Damon we can get (unless it results in Ocean’s 23-D)

Murphy’s Lawlessness: Damon as Whitacre looks egggzactly like Eddie Murphy done up in whiteface for that klisssasic SNL bit. mad creepy, yo!

Verdictgo: Jeepers Worth A Peepers

The Informant! tattles at a theaters near jews today

and until next thyme the balcony is clothed…

we’re a bit behind, so these gots to be qwikies…

The September Issue
The Wintour of Our Content
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

In 2007, Vogue, the magazine, put out an issue in September, only a month after they put one out in August. It was better known as their September issue. It was the size of a phone book and had pictures of wicked hot and wicked rail thin chicks pouting in pretty settings [spoiler alert 2 years too late: Sienna Miller graced the cover]. How does something like this come together? PEOPLE! Old people, who think they know fashion, and young people, who are forced to wear yarns that no one would ever wear, but the old people force them to wear em or else they’d force them to eat food. R.J. Cutler turns the camera on these peoples and sees what the deli-yo. Nothing crazy really goes on, considering editrix (we hate the word almos more than we hate the NY Giants) Anna Wintour is the pimp behind Vogue‘s wheels and you’d expect her to throw a coat on her assistants every 8 seconds and scream GET ME ARMANI!!!, but nah, no dice. She’s a powerful woman who knows what she wants, speaks her mind when need be, and happens to have a stoopid haircut. It’s mad fascinating to watch her at work, and watch those who work for her walk on eggshells and shells and cottage cheese juss to peas her. There’s one lady who sorta stands up to her…

Grace Under Firecrotch: Grace Coddington was a former model turned fashion editor/creative director at Vogue. She totally kicks a$$ in The September Issue, but it was kinda weak that they didn’t mention how her brothers are Emperor Palpatine and that dude from Mask (OK, this was in poor taste, but this site isn’t called HappyRainbowSmilesDippedInFunIceCream.net)

Verdictgo: Jeepers Mos Def Worth A Peepers

Extract
Very Vanilla
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

Mike Judge is a funny guy, and you knows it. If wees have to give you examples as to why, then go watch Judd Apatow movies and leave we be. Extract is his latest and Extract is not worthy of being his latest. It’s not bad, it’s juss not all that funny. Therein lies the problem. The characters are beyond likable (and how could it not be with everyman Jason Bateman, eyeball and boob friendly Mila Kunis, wiigish Kristen Wiig, A-OK J.K. Simmons, ballsy Clifton Collins Jr., Beavisy & Buttheadish Dustin Milligan, kick in the David Koechner, sparkled motioned Beth Grant, an even ballsyier Gene Simmons and a WONDERFUL Ben Affleck. yes, WONDERFUL!), but broccoli can also be likable and broccoli hasn’t made for a funny movie since 1934. Wants Judge funny that needs no judging? (re)Watch Idiocracy

Wishful Drinking: sorry Mr Judge, but even if Extract was a home run run home, it would still be second fiddle fiddle second in the world of extract entertainments wheneth compared to Tom Hanks gettin all kinds of wasted on vanilla extract as Uncle Ned on Family Ties

Verdictgo: Jeepers Somewhat Merit Worthy, But Ultimately No Stinkin Badges

9
Not Another Bo Derek Prequel
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

Shane Acker‘s got cartoon visual know how, and how, and know! His ‘005 short called 9 was nominated for an Academy Award, so others muss agree! He didn’t win, so maybe the agreementance wasn’t unanimous, and his lumbersome bigger screen adaptation of said short with the same name didn’t eggzactly win we over cause the storytelling wasn’t very storyful or telling, but man, thems visuals rawked! With this and Coraline, it’s nice to have sum creepy alternatives to the straight-laced Disney-Pixar kiddie fixars, and as soon as they get their stories straight then Pixar will have to start making more crizz-niz-nazy fare like WALL•E Beats Pete’s Dragon. word em up!

Never Stop Motion: a kid and parents-friendly movie waiting to happen….

WEEPULS: THE MOVIESICOOL!

Verdictgo: Sum Merit But No Stinkin Badges

Extract & 9 are currently severing time at a theater near jews, whilst The September Issue mags its tail in limited release

and until next thyme the balcony is clothed…

Taking Woodstock
What A Long Not So Strange Trip It’s Been
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

Woodstock was supposed to take place in Wallkill, New York, but shiz happened and so it couldn’t be held there anymo. Enter Elliot (née Teichberg) Tiber (Demetri Martin, being a little less crazy here than he is when gettin his booty on the floor with the Crazy Dogggz), who helps run his mom and pop’s (Imelda Staunton & Henry Goodman, laying the Jewishness on a bit too thick) rundown El Monaco Motel near Bethel, NY. Money was tight and their motel was in trouble of being shut down so enterprising Elliot, who was the president of the town’s Chamber of Commerce and had already secured a permit for his own local arts and music festival, takes Woodstock. Get it? The locals aren’t pleased, but the festival organizers, led by the male Lady Godiva with a vest Michael Lang (Jonathan Groff) are, especially with time running out and not many options left. Elliot’s original location idea wasn’t big enuff, so he turns to a local dairy farmer named Max Yasgur (Eugene Levy, in a role he was truly born to play), who has plenty of land to spare, and spankfully open to the idea. All the above and the additional steps leading up to the actual concert are brilliantly depicted in Ang Lee‘s look back, with usual scripting from partner James Schamus in tow

But when the show goes on, the movie practically loses all of it’s flower powers. As the music blares in the background, the focus stays on Elliot, with his family’s money troubles now evaporated, he starts to out his in the closet feelings, as well as explore some mind-melting drugs, but who friggin cares? It’s understandable not wanting to recreate stage performances already captured to a T in Michael Wadleigh‘s 1970 Academy Award winning doc, but if yer thirdish act lacks like Taking Woodstock‘s does (Emile Hirsch as a vet = meh, Liev Schreiber as a tranny = eh), don’t think anyone would complain if they let Jenna Maroney do her best/wurstest Janis Joplin impersonation/abortion. We are also denied the possible pleasure of seeing Levy as Yasgur, delivering his heartfelt speech on the main stage (then again, maybe that was in the movie and we missed it since we had to pee 2 times during our viewing). Come to think of it, they shoulda made a movie revolving around Yasgur. We mean, dude got effin name-checked in Joni Mitchell’s beyond classic eponymous track [empee3], and the more flamously cover version done up by CSN&Y [empee3]. What you got Tiber, besides a river in Italy that your probably renamed yerself after?

Earthlight Players With Herself Club: hottie Jennifer Merrill gets nekkid as an Eartlight Theater Player. luckily (thighlarious) troupe leader Dan Fogler didn’t

Verdictgo: Jeepers Somewhat Worth A Peepers

American Casino
The Bank Job
Official Website & Trailer

America’s housing crash and current financial crisis is confusing stuffs. Believe us, it is! We hactually stopped reading any articles on it cause news like that doesn’t talk about boobs and the only thing we know about money is how to spend it on crap from our past that we re-want and can find on eBay. Well Leslie Cockburn and hubby Andrew do their best to bring us up to speed, doc style, with a mix of personal stories of foreclosures on people who probably shouldn’t have had a mortgage to begin with, to a bunch of talking heads talking about stuff that’ll be over mos people’s heads besides people who talk like those talking heads, but not the ones from the band that totally has to reunite before they are we die. Translation: there’s something here for both the the layman and texperts to sink their and our brains into. Casino may not be timeless, but you have to give it some credit crunch for being right on time

Wilde At Heart: the Cockburn’s daughter is none other than Houser/OCer/Tron Legacyer Olivia Wilde. tawk about a family with brains AND beauty!

Verdictgo: Jeepers Worth A Peepers

Woodstock is currently slightly hitting the mark at theaters near jews, whilst Casino plays on house money in NY & SF only, and elsewhere elsewhen

and until next thyme the balcony is clothed…

Five Minutes of Heaven
Irish Eyes Are Certainly Not Smiling
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

It’s a shame absolute that they don’t hand out press notes when a film is shown to a general audience (in addition to the stuffy journos and the bloggy von blogospheresters, with our so called humboldt opinions who review em) cause most of the info contained is vary insightful and can only enhance the viewer’s going film experience. Case in point be in point for the effective Northern Ireland tinged Five Minutes of Heaven (guess they didn’t realize the unintentional porn name possibilities there, eh?). Based on a true story (they do tell us that upfront), the first third deals with that truth in the past (the killing of Jim Griffin, a 19-year-old Catholic by Alistair Little, a 17-year-old Protestant in 1975), but it’s the rest that takes place in present day (where Griffin’s grown-up little brother and witness to the murder confronts Little face to face in an exclusive TV news program, fresh after his stint in the can) where the truth is pulled over us and our eyes, and none of wees are any the wiser, bud. The pressie notes tell us that the shaky reunion that follows is all hypothetical, made up!!!, based on what MIGHT happen if the two were to ever meet. Wooaaaah! Woah, indeed!

Writer Guy Hibbert worked with the real life figures separately (the two men have hactually never met), working out possible scenarios with each, and even sharing the notes with the opposite person, then handed it over to James Nesbitt (Bloody Sunday, Millions, Match Point) and Liam Neeson to chew up the scenery, with Downfall‘s Oliver Hirschbiegel‘s bottom in the director’s chair. Neeson plays the remorseful killer, and snatchurally, is solid as usual, but it’s Nesbitt as the walking wounded brother who owns this puppy from the first moment he appears/unravels onscreen. He’s a mess, and with revenge on his mind, he’s no one to mess around with. Neeson’s character is keenly aware of this, but is eager to create some sort of peaceful ending to the ordeal he started ages ago, no matter what the cost. The material is similar to last year’s notseen Take, where forgiveness for an unforgivable deed was the name of the game, but unlike that film, we won’t soon forgetness the 90 minutes we spent with (almos) Heaven

Blame It On The Name: usually this spot is reserved for extra sense-non and movie hottie ingénues, but juss cause we’re not gonna bone you, doesn’t mean that we aint gonna throw you one. enter BAFTA award winner Anamaria Marinca, last seen in the wurstest date movie of 2008, who makes a mark for herself in Heaven as one of the TV show’s PAs that has the unfortunate job of babysitting a jittery Nesbitt in the green room. she adds a welcomed bright smile to an otherwise dour affair. you may not remember her name, heck, we already fivegot it, but she’s definitely someone to keep an eye on, even if we don’t want to get our thigh on wit her

Verdictgo: Jeepers Worth A Peepers

5 Mins demands yer attention today on-demand and opens in a thing called a ‘movie theater’ in NY only this Friday

and until next thyme the balcony is clothed…

What if the peoples got press notes?
wouldn’t this world be a better place?
who cares if it’s a waste of paper
knowledge knows no price
but vincent price!

Julie & Julia
Child’s Kid & Play
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

Julia Child lead a most fruitful life, making a name for herself in introducing French cuisine to the plebeian American suburbanites in both print and later in television (do we have her to thank for Yan Can Cook and Justin ‘I gar-on-tee!‘ Wilson?), while privately maintaining a loving relationship with her cherished diplomat husband. There was one thing she always wanted, but could never have, a child (irony?). She may not have been able to procreate, but she indirectly created a monster in the form of Julie Powell. Mrs Powell was looking for a purpose in life and found it in Mrs Child’s cookbook. Since fresh creativity doesn’t really eggsist anymore, Powell made like a hip-hop ‘artist’ and sampled Child’s work into her own. The result was a blog chronicling her attempt to make all 524 recipes from Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in the span of a year. Yawn. Almos more yawn is the design of her blog (her current blog aint munch butter). All talk, not bite. Well nothing screams motion picture quite like a woman’s struggle in the kitchen and blogging about it, right?

You go girl writer/director Nora Ephron tries her damnedest to turn this ‘story’ into a movie, cross-cutting from Julie’s struggles (food falls on the floor! her husband’s grows tired of her being annoying! oh my!) to Child’s own culinary education and the process of making her cookbook while living in France. Naturally, the more watchable bits revolve around Child’s life, tenzillion-fold over Powell’s. It also doesn’t hurt that Meryl Streep‘s sporting Child’s apron, and like the true artist that she is, Streep embodies her role, instead of making a parody of it (they let Dan Aykroyd do the dirty work). Stanley Tucci plays her husband Paul, and not only does an affective job demonstrating the Child couple’s perfect pairing, but also the second pairing (after The Devil Wears Prada) of he and Streep. They’re magical together, and we hope the two continue to unite onscreen again and again and again. On the other side of the flick, Amy Adams (making her second pairing with Streep as well, after the YUMcredible Doubt) is tasked with the thankless job of playing the pouty Powell, with Chris Messina having an even more thankless job of portraying the supportive hubby. Without her and her blog and her ‘troubles’, this movie wouldn’t eggist, but after further review it seems like Child’s mostly carefree life, with Streep walking VERY tall in her shoes, is so colorful and delightful that it’s worthy enuff to warrant its own film. Anywho, to all the guys out there, have no fear if yer ladies drag you to this cause the bon appétit bits well out weigh the au bon pain in the ass ones

DCeiving: like Julie Powell, you too can (cook) visit Child’s kitchen at the National Museum of American History in DC, but yer better off skipping it, cause it’s boring, and instead indulge in the cuisine of astronauts, freeze-dried ice cream, which is available at every gift shop on the Smitshonian grounds

Verdictgo: Jeepers Worth A Peepers

Cold Souls
Soul Kauf(man)ing
Trailers & Mo | Official Website

Sophie Barthes‘s Cold Souls is like a more clear-headed mix of Being John Malkovich, Synecdoche, New York and Enternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind. That’s quite good Charlie Kaufman company to be in for Barthes’ full length feature debut, wouldn’t ya say? The idea for the film regarding a man having his soul extracted was dreamed up from one of her own dreams, and the man in question was Woody Allen. Obviously it aint no easy task to have him star in a movie these days (guess he’s waiting for Scenes From A Mall II), so in steps Paul Giamatti, who brings his own brand of neuroticism to the playing field. In Souls G-mat plays… Paul Giamatti, a crazed actor having much trouble gettin through Uncle Vanya rehearsals, and after reading an article in The New Yorker he finds himself in a Total Recall-type lab (run by David Strathairn) where his soul will be removed and placed into a jar. His soul turns out to be the size and shape of a chickpea, and without it, he feels quite empty, especially around his well-aware wife Emily Watson, so he has the option to take someone else’s soul. After giving a troubled new soul a spin, he decides he wants his old one back, but it’s been stolen! and shipped off to Russia! by way of the soul black market! and all so some Russian dude’s aspiring soap opera actress wife (see Win-Winnick below) can get a bit of stage cred! The first half of Cold Souls is a brainy, but not too heady joy, and the second is a little more adventurous, although not as interesting as the first half, as Paul heads to mother Russia, with the help of sympathetic soul trafficker Dina Korzun, in hopes of gettin
g his soul back. It’s a mixed bag, but a rather curious one lessthenone, so you should feel free to place your hand in this bag for a lil soul II soul searching

A Win-Winnick Situation: Katheryn Winnick plays the Russian actress hungry for the soul of Al Pacino, but gets Giamatti’s instead. we all wanna play Russian and be in a mad hurry (get it, rushin’) to make sweet hand love to this kick glass Maxim babe

Verdictgo: Jeepers Worth A Peepers

J&J creates heat in kitchens across the country today, while Cold Souls gets icy hot in NY & LA only

and until next thyme the balcony is clothed…