It's tidbits time, America! And there's loads to learn, know, see, and read on this, the day after Halloween. Spooky, scary! It's like a werewolf bar mitzvah, but not really. Let's get to reading, shall we?
Fairly Legal Will Not Get Third Season: USA has decided to not renew sophomore Fairly Legal after attempts at revamping the series. Network heads gave the show a second-season renewal based on the likability of the show's star, Sarah Shahi, but stressed that the show needed to improve. After no results, even with a showrunner change and casting tweaks on the show, the series ended its second season down 1 million viewers—from 3.5 million viewers to 2.5 million—and that was something USA just couldn't ignore. Don't worry too much about Shahi, though: she's already booked a reoccurring gig on Chicago Fire. And USA is about to renew Burn Notice for a seventh season, so everyone is doing just fine. [Deadline]
It's Seventh Heaven on Scandal: Remember Stephen Collins, the priestly dad from the popular family-friendliest show ever, Seventh Heaven? Well apparently he's ready to have himself a bit of a Scandal, as he's recently lined himself up a guest-starring role on the show as a reporter in an upcoming Season 2 episode. [TVLine]
ABC Relocating with Hollywood & Vines: ABC has its eyes set on another, Revenge-esque show. The network has given a script order to Hollywood & Vines, a murder-mystery set in (duh) Hollywood, from writer/director Michael Tolkin and Revenge's current producers Marty Bowen and Wyck Godfrey. The new soapy drama series will revolve around three sisters from a dynastic Hollywood family. Their lives are forever changed when they all discover that they're connected to an A-list actress who turns up dead in a pool. Murder! Intrigue! Mystery! Drama! [THR]
Hello Ladies, Says HBO: HBO has given an eight-episode series order to co-writer/director/star Stephen Merchant's comedy pilot, Hello Ladies. The project, co-written with former The Office writer/producers Lee Eisenberg and Gene Stupnitsky, stars Merchant as an awkward and out-of-touch Englishman on a quest to find the woman of his dreams in Los Angeles—someone he imagines lives in glamorous world of beautiful people he so desperately wants to infiltrate. The pilot co-starred Christine Woods, Nate Torrence and Kevin Weisman. [Deadline]
Brendan Fraser Is No Longer a Legends: Well, that was quick. After recently announcing he would be starring in the project, Brendan Fraser has bowed out of the TNT series. Citing creative differences with showrunner Howard Gordon about the direction of his character, a deep-cover operative named Martin Odum—who has an apparently uncanny ability to transform himself into a different person for each job (Dollhouse, anyone?)—the exit is being described as an amicable one. [Variety]
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The allure of a jump scare that perfectly-timed loud noise that sends a horror movie audience jumping is hard to ignore. They're easy but effective — if you want to shake people up nothing works as well as a well placed violin screech or slamming door sound effect. Thankfully the new evil ghost movie Sinister mostly avoids the easy way out by developing its lead character a novelist with a drinking problem and exploring an inventive twist on "found footage" (the guy actually finds footage). It all works quite well… that is until it starts relying on jump scares.
True crime writer Ellison Oswalt (Ethan Hawke) hasn't had a hit book in years but he hopes to change his life around by investigating a set of murders committed in the backyard of a suburban home. To immerse himself in the history Ellison moves his entire family into the house where the committed murders took place (and without telling them their new home's little secret). He immediately falls down the rabbit hole discovering a series of Super 8 movies depicting the first killings and a string of other bizarre murders all captured on gritty film. Ellison loses himself to the movies only flinching when his wife Tracey (Juliet Rylance) begs him to come to bed or his son Trevor (Michael Hall D'Addario) wakes up in a fit of terror from an anxiety ailment. But as he watches and rewatches the snuff films Ellison begins to see a connection between them: a shadowy figure who it turns out might be a supernatural entity.
Great horror rides on its lead and Hawke serves Sinister well. He's ambitious and overly confident of his abilities as he digs deeper and deeper into the history of the Super 8 movies. He makes some poor choices — why writers in movies are continually keeping secrets from their families and drinking way more whiskey than their finances would allow is one of Hollywood's great mysteries — but Hawke is adept at making the act of watching someone watch something interesting. His obsession with the mystery his slowly disintegrating mind is reminiscent of Jack Torrence in The Shining.
But before Sinister gets that involved with its central character it strays into run-of-the-mill haunted house territory. Vincent D'Onofrio pops up for a quick expositional Skype chat to inform Ellison that the dark being in his home movies might be a Pagan deity that eats the souls of children. That would explain all those pesky kid ghosts that keep whispering in the ear of Ellison's Ashley (Clare Foley) and making creepy bumps in the night.
Sinister's most terrifying material comes from the grainy "found footage." When director Scott Derrickson moves back and forth between Ellison and the films the writer illuminated only by the flickering projector it's chilling. But the movie progresses away from that into its own conventional horror movie. Weighed down by explanation and meandering action Sinister loses track of its character angle in favor of the almighty jump scare. It's exhausting — but then again as the nickname suggests they never fail to make one jump.
A comedy featuring Steve Martin Jack Black and Owen Wilson creates certain expectations not the least of which is well laughter. But David Frankel’s (Marley & Me The Devil Wears Prada) anodyne feather-light film The Big Year in which the three actors star is less concerned with eliciting big laughs than offering earnest insights on the meaning of success and the value of friendship.
Delving into the subculture of hard-core birders (don’t call them bird-watchers) the film follows three men semi-retired industrialist Stu (Martin) schlubby corporate drone Brad (Black) and suburban contractor Kenny (Wilson) as they vie in a year-long competition known as the Big Year. The goal of the competition is simple: to spot as many different bird species in North America as possible. As current Big Year record-holder Kenny is something of a rock star in the birding world. His cocky carefree manner masks a stark determination to defend his hard-won celebrity – and his fragile ego – against the likes of upstarts Stu and Brad both of whom are Big Year rookies. None of the three leads stray far from type but they do offer slight tweaks to their usual screen personas: Wilson is sly and Machiavellian; Black tones down the buffoonery limiting himself to two (by my rough count) pratfalls; Martin’s sardonicism is tempered with humility.
There’s no prize for winning a Big Year; the sole reward is the adulation of fellow members of the birding community. Competition is surprisingly fierce. The three men frantically criss-cross the continent darting from one remote location to another in search of the next rare find. At first wary of each other Stu and Brad eventually unite over a mutual desire to defeat Kenny whose crafty gamesmanship has frustrated them both. Their strategic pact gradually evolves into a genuine friendship leading both men to discover that there are more important things in life than winning an amateur birding competition.
Shot on location in British Columbia the Canadian Yukon Upstate New York Joshua Tree and the Florida Everglades The Big Year is a visually striking film showcasing one breathtaking panorama after another. At times director Frankel appears more interested in the scenery than his characters who despite the script's copious exposition aren't particularly well-developed. The story at times seem aimless and unfocused and its relaxed pace may prove vexing for some. Indeed it did for me at first. But once I adjusted to its easygoing rhythm the film’s modest charms began to reveal themselves.
Yet another in a continuing line of dismal Dane Cook so-called romantic comedies (Good Luck Chuck Employee of the Month) My Best Friend's Girl can’t seem to decide exactly what kind of movie it wants to be landing somewhere between gross-out humor and silly relationship dreck. Tank (Cook) is a moronic commitment-free sex-addicted loser who offers up his services to guys in need of keeping their girlfriends from jumping ship. The solution? One date revolving around Tank’s intentionally repulsive antics and they will come running back no questions asked. So when his roommate and best friend the love-struck Dustin (Jason Biggs) finds his new girlfriend Alexis (Kate Hudson) isn’t ready to marry him after just one month he turns to Tank to work his disgusting mojo on her. But it backfires when Alexis turns into a drunken sex-starved slut on their first outing to a strip bar thoroughly impressing Tank. The complications pile up as the mismatched pair fall in love and Tank begins second guessing the new relationship he has created behind his buddy’s back. Cook has now been down this road so many times it feels like yesterday’s warmed-up oatmeal. There’s no doubt he’s got comic talent and even a kind of oddball leading man appeal--but over and over he is asked to play the same garish guy an expletive hurling sex machine with no sense of social decorum manners or even common sense. He’s the poster boy for beer guzzling dunderheads who want jump into bed with no questions asked. He has a moment at the end of Best Friend's Girl in which he finally get the laughs but a little too late. Hudson is also apparently determined to take any script that comes her way floundering helplessly as the sexually confused Alexis who can’t seem to decide what she wants in a relationship: the good boy or the bad. Unfortunately she doesn’t seem to have any chemistry with Biggs--or for that matter Cook. All they do is shout at each other repeatedly using some form of the word “asshole” over and over. Biggs as the third wheel just doesn’t have anywhere to go with this role basically serving as an annoying plot device to get the two leads together. The only one who survives with any dignity is Alec Baldwin as Tank’s unapologetic womanizing father who offers up advice to his son that is blissfully politically incorrect. Sure Baldwin can do this kind of thing in his sleep but he does it with style even if wasted on this sorry enterprise. Eighties teen movie veteran Howard Deutch (Pretty In Pink) finds his career literally in the tank (pun intended) trying to unearth a romantic comedy from material that just doesn’t give him much to work with. Deutch is so divorced from the concept that it looks like he just turned the cameras on and let his stars improvise for the most undemanding moviegoers imaginable (even though there is a credited script supposedly written by Jordan Cahan). To top everything off he shoots most of it in unattractive poorly lit close-ups that do no favors for anyone particularly the usually bright and fetching Hudson. This looks like one of those movies in which everyone is having such a good time on the set they forgot to let the audience in on all the “fun.”