Here she is, Miss Amer — oops, that's the wrong pageant. Here she is, Miss USA, the winner of Donald Trump's annual beauty pageant and feeder to the coveted Miss Universe pageant. It's the representative from Rhode Island, Olivia Culpo! She took the crown thanks to her beauty, poise, a firey purpleish dress, and a wonderful answer to a question posed by you, the fans. At this time, I do not believe that Donald Trump has asked to see her long form birth certificate.
For the first year ever one of the big questions at the end of the night was sent via Twitter, and the question was whether or not the contestant thought it was fair if a transgender woman won Miss USA over a natural born woman. Olivia had a graceful answer about thinking that it was fair because, basically, this is a free country and everyone deserves a shot. Thanks for not giving us a flashback to that whole Carrie Prejean brouhaha from 2009. While the winner was deserving, lets look at a few of the things from the show that were a little bit over the top.
The Names: While each of the ladies was absolutely stunning, some of them had some rather non-traditional names. Along with a slew of Ashleys, Jessicas, and Jamies, there was also Jaci, Kendyl, Nana, Rani, Ryanne (pronounced "Ryan"), Jazz, and (wait for it) Myverick. No, she was not from the great state of Alaska.
Product Placement: At times the telecast seemed less like a beauty pageant and more like a segment on QVC, but with even more fake jewels. During the two hours we were treated to mentions of the following products: Wal-Mart, Rain Cosmetics, Chinese Laundry, Kooney Austraila, Australian Gold, the Trump International Hotel, Australian Gold, Diamond Nexus, New York Film Academy, Farouk Systems makers of Chi and Bio Silk, and a host of places in Las Vegas including Carlos and Charles, Qua Spa, Bobby Flay's Chop House at Ceasar's Palace, KGP Kerry's Burgers, Buca di Beppo, Sugar Factory an American Barserie, Mandalay Bay, the Garden of the Gods at Caesar's Palace, the Venetion, and of course we all know it was telecast live from Planet Hollywood! There were more sponsors than at an AA convention. Damn, how much money did this put in Donald Trump's pockets.
Nepotism: The hosts of the show were Bravo's Andy Cohen and E!'s Giuliana Rancic. Giuliana had some company from her show Fashion Police with Kelly Osbourne doing interviews and George Kotsiapolous serving as a judge. The other judges were Arsenio Hall (winner of Trump's Celebrity Apprentice), Rob Kardashian (whose show is on E!), Ali Fedotowsky (who hosts 1st Look on NBC), Cat Cora (a judge on Bravo's Around the World in 80 Plates), Dayana Mendoza (current Miss Universe), and Marilu Henner (an Apprentice contestant). Oh, and did we mention that both E! and Bravo are owned by NBC? The judge who didn't have an obvious link to NBC Universal or Donald Trump is Joe Jonas, and he's so fine we don't question his presence anywhere. Oh, and don't forget that Giuliana is married to the first winner of The Apprentice. The favoritism runs deep. So deep Arsenio Hall even asked a question name checking Andy Cohen's show Watch What Happens Live.
Fun Facts: While each of the contestants who made the cut in the top 16 was called we learned some fun facts about them, and they were all totally crazy. "She works the lunch shift," "she can drive a truck in high heels," "she graduated from college in only four and a half years," "she has three NBA players in her family," "she has a pet goat," "she kissed a stingray for good luck." Wow, are these even real.
Miss Ohio: OK, I was totally rooting for Miss Ohio, because she was for sure the most outrageous contestant. First of all she was the one who can drive a truck in high heels. Then she is the only one who wore a full gown and it was this canary yellow marshmellow monstrosity that looked just like what Belle wore in Beauty and the Beast but not nearly as floaty. It was the only one without bedazzles of all stripes and the announcer lady said she is "proud she's walking in that." And then, when Marilu Henner (who has a photographic memory) asked her if women are depicted well in movies and asked for an example. She replied that women are depicted well and cited Pretty Woman as her example. You mean the one about a hooker? That Pretty Woman? No wonder Rhode Island won.
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Marcus Nispel’s silly violent fantasy epic Conan the Barbarian is Hollywood’s second attempt at building a franchise based on pulp author Robert E. Howard’s signature character. The first yielded two films of diminishing quality – 1982’s Conan the Barbarian and 1984’s Conan the Destroyer – and is best remembered for launching the career of future governor Arnold Schwarzenegger whose Austrian accent in the films is so thick as to render the bulk of his dialogue unintelligible.
Playing the title role in the update is Jason Momoa whose muscles aren’t quite as gargantuan as his predecessor’s but whose line-readings are at the very least comprehensible. (His own accent betrays hints of Hawaiian surfer-dude.) Momoa is most famous for his recent turn as a Khal Drogo on the hit HBO series Game of Thrones a far superior work of hard-R sword-and-sorcery fantasy. Thrones like Conan the Barbarian boasts bare breasts and beheadings galore but beneath the sex and savagery lies real intelligence. All the titillating elements are icing on the cake for a series founded on compelling characters and ingenious storytelling
Not so much with Conan the Barbarian. The film begins with a lengthy prologue inexplicably narrated by Morgan Freeman that briefs us on the essential details of the film’s mythology – and you’d best be paying attention because the ensuing film treats story and character as so many enemies to be vanquished. The opening scene announces the movie’s savage B-movie ethos thusly: When Conan’s very pregnant mother is injured in battle (barbarians don’t get maternity leave) his father (Ron Perlman) delivers his son via an impromptu battlefield Cesarean photographed in graphic detail. A warrior is born.
The plot involves a grown-up Conan gunning for revenge against Khalar Zym (Stephen Lang) the sorcerer-chieftan who killed his father and obliterated his tribe the Cimmerians when he was just a boy. Conan is something of a rock star in the marauding world his bloodlust not so all-consuming that he can’t stop to enjoy a flagon of mead with the odd topless slave babe. His credo is cogently expressed as “I live I love I slay I am content” – words to live by if there ever were.
On the path to vengeance Conan links up with a runaway nun Tamara (Rachel Nichols) whose special blood is required by Khalar to resurrect his dead wife. Or maybe it’s needed to conquer the Kingdom of Hyboria. Whatever. The attraction between Conan and Tamara is instantaneous and powerful – what girl can resist such charming lines as “Woman come here ” and “You look like a harlot”? Films like this can usually get by with one female speaking role but Conan the Barbarian offers a second: Marique (Rose McGowan) a scheming goth-witch whose affection for her father Khalar is clearly beyond familial. The role was originally written for a man.
Nispel’s previous films include two horror remakes (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Friday the 13th) and the barely releasable Pathfinder. He directs with casual disregard for context rushing hurriedly from one bloody set-piece to the next coherence be damned. Action is paramount in Conan the Barbarian; the film is positively bursting with it leaving little room for anything that might engage us on any level beyond “guilty pleasure.” Some of the action is memorable some of it tedious but the violence is inspired. In one scene while questioning a man whose nose he’d hacked off just a few frames earlier Conan jams his finger into the man’s exposed nose-hole causing it to spew icky clear fluid. Now that is some enhanced interrogation.
Anyone who’s been to the zoo has considered the possibility that once all the visitors and the zookeepers go home the animals come out from their enclosures and talk about the day. And so while Frank Coraci's Zookeeper is kind enough to show us what that fantasy looks like it isn’t kind enough to show us much else.
In Zookeeper Kevin James plays Griffin Keyes who’s so in love with his girlfriend Stephanie (played by Leslie Bibb) that he doesn’t realize she’s terrible until he proposes to her and she says no because she doesn't like his job. After the breakup Griffin focuses on his work and is totally aware of how he wishes he had someone in his life to care for him the way he cares for the wildlife at the Franklin Park Zoo. When the animals (being the astute creatures that they are) notice how badly their favorite zookeeper has been feeling since the demise of his relationship they decide to break their vow of silence to show their appreciation for him by sharing all the tips and tricks that have helped them all get mates. The imparting of this knowledge paves the way for Kevin James to regurgitate onto the audience all the talent for physical comedy he’s accumulated over the course of his acting career and it means Griffin spends the majority of the movie rubbing his back against a tree like a bear or peeing on a tree like a wolf because he thinks his ex-girlfriend will take him back if he asserted his dominance more.
One of the more skillful things the film does is give each of the animals their own personalities in a relatively short period of time and credit should be given to the actors who voiced them. Sylvester Stallone’s Joe the Lion was the leader of the group and his frequent lover’s quarrels with Janet the Lioness (voiced by Cher) will particularly resonate with parents. Adam Sandler’s Donald the monkey delivered some nice one-liners and unapologetically bragged about his opposable thumbs. Judd Apatow Maya Rudolph Jon Favreau and Faizon Love also provided worthy comedic contributions to the animal group but it was Nick Nolte’s role of Bernie the gorilla that particularly stood out. After an incident with an abusive zookeeper (strangely played by Donny Wahlberg) where Bernie gained the reputation of being dangerous he was extricated from his beautiful and open enclosure and dropped down into a cement pit to be punished over a misunderstanding. But even though Bernie was out of site and otherwise inaccessible to the zoo’s patrons Griffin didn’t forget about him and worked arduously to convince him that not every human is cruel by putting a yellow polo shirt on him and taking him to T.G.I. Fridays. Though completely random and almost irrelevant the sentiment was very close to nice.
But the movie's biggest problem isn’t the fact that its animals talk or that Griffin listens to them without realizing he’s trying to win back a human by acting like a wombat. It’s that because Griffin's first love Stephanie was a bad person filmmakers were burdened with concocting a new love figure for him (because like all protagonists he's supposed to rediscover his self-worth and self-respect after it has been misplaced). The director acknowledged this challenge by manufacturing Rosario Dawson’s character Kate the eagle expert/veterinarian. Kate’s close proximity to Griffin at the zoo and possession of a slinky black dress meant she became his accomplice when he tried to use the skills the animals taught him to win Stephanie back at his brother's wedding. Eventually it becomes clear that the audience is supposed to root for a union between Griffin and Kate but it's an almost impossible task because Griffin barely has any screen time with Kate and because of all the talking animals going on there is no room for a relationship when the film is already busting at the seams.
Theoretically Zookeeper sounds decent. And for the most part the scenes where the animals are coaxing Griffin are actually enjoyable. But the framework of the film makes the plot unnecessarily complicated…which means not only do audience members not get enough of what they wanted but they also get a whole bunch of other things they didn’t sign up for.
The thing is Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties doesn’t even have anything to do with the classic Charles Dickens novel. Two Kitties is more a pauper/prince type story. I guess kids probably don’t know what a “pauper” is and well The Prince and the Pussy wouldn’t really work would it? Still they could have at least come up with a clever story to go along with the title. This time around Garfield (Bill Murray) wants to stop Jon (Breckin Meyer) from asking cute-as-a-button vet Liz (Jennifer Love Hewitt) to marry him on a trip to London by stowing away. Once over the pond the fat yellow cat ends up being mistaken for a royal fat yellow cat Prince (Tim Curry) who has just inherited a castle. Sure Garfield likes all the perks--minced pie anytime he rings a bell; pampering beyond your regular tongue bath; and no Odie. There are a few downsides namely an evil relative (Billy Connolly) who wants the cat dead so he can get the estate but it doesn’t matter. Both cats are killed in the end anyway. Oh I’m kidding (I only wish). The laconic Murray is certainly a wise choice to voice the indolent fat cat and was mildly entertaining in the first Garfield. But for the Oscar-nominated actor to agree to do it again let’s just say it must have been very costly for the producers. I would hope anyway that he asked for a lot of money because why else would you do something as inane as this? The character interminably grates. There are also a bevy of British actors in Two Kitties who are equally annoying doing animal voices--from Curry as the mollycoddled Prince to Bob Hoskins as a bulldog and Sharon Osbourne as a pig. As for the human factor Meyer and Love Hewitt are gag-producing sugary sweet while Connolly just makes a complete ass of himself as the dastardly villain. It’s kind of embarrassing actually --for everyone involved. It still boggles the mind the first Garfield grossed $75 million domestically. Yes it was an understandable endeavor since the comic strip has always been immensely popular and with the advent of CGI creating the Garfield we all know and love for the screen was finally possible. But the first Garfield was so mind-numbingly ridiculous you just have to wonder what the audiences saw in it. I guess maybe it had something to do with keeping 7-year-olds occupied. Of course all the studio execs saw were dollar signs so it stands to reason they’d make a sequel. It made money dammit so we have to do it again can’t you see that? OK so let’s say we go with that reasoning hoping maybe they’ll have realized their mistakes with the first and come up with something better. No such luck. I have feeling this time around however those same execs may be disappointed. In a summer full of far more stellar entertainment for the kiddies these Two Kitties are going to thankfully fall by the wayside and put an end to the franchise once and for all.
There ain't much of one. In a nutshell a group of spun-out druggies living in the drab sun-baked land of the mini mall known as North Los Angeles Valley are focused on one thing and one thing only--getting and using drugs--and we get to tag along with them for three wasted sleepless days. There's Ross (Jason Schwartzman) a college dropout pining over a girl who dumped him and the only one of the gang you think might have some redeeming quality--until he handcuffs his stripper girlfriend spread-eagled to the bed naked duct-tapes her eyes and mouth and leaves her with a thrash metal CD--skipping--on the player for three days. (All that ruckus of course raises the suspicions of a butch biker broad--Deborah Harry in a cameo--who runs a phone sex line out of her apartment next door.) In exchange for dope Ross runs errands for a big badass Jesse James type known as the Cook (Mickey Rourke) 'cause he brews the crystal in a squalid motel room he shares with sweet misguided stripper Nikki (Brittany Murphy). The Cook provides drugs to dealer Spider Mike (John Leguizamo) a seriously paranoid hopped-up speed freak and his mossy-teethed tweaker girlfriend Cookie (Mena Suvari) who use and sell the Cook's drugs to hangers-on like the absurdly pimply faced Frisbee (Patrick Fugit) in between sex sessions and flip-outs involving guns spray paint and socks.
Every last person in this ensemble seems to relish getting down and dirty--and by dirty we mean fetid. Murphy and Rourke are particular standouts: with big kohl-smudged eyes and wide friendly smile she's sweetly innocent bobbling aournd in her f***-me Daisy Dukes and high-heeled boots; he's terrifying and larger than life in torn jeans tucked into white shitkickers a ponytail and a Stetson but he actually pulls the heartstrings when he muses about watching puppies be put to death as a boy and defends two chola mini-mart clerks from an abusive gangster. Watching Schwartzman's Ross whom you expect to like as the film's hero perform what amounts to torture on his girlfriend so casually and with such good intentions is more shocking than any of the film's drug scenes or seedy imagery and Ross becomes all the more menacing in his regular-Joe ways. Props to Suvari for letting the world watch her strain so vigorously on the can and to Leguizamo for giving his all in his few scenes whether threatening his pseudo-friends with a gun shooting up crank or jacking off. Peter Stormare and Alexis Arquette give lively performances as a sort of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas-meets-COPS pair of vice guys hot on Spider's trail; look out also for former Judas Priest singer Rob Halford porn star Ron Jeremy and Eric Roberts.
With its over-the-top caricatures hyper-frenetic camerawork and creatively near pornographic animation segments this movie looks an awful lot like a music video and with good reason: Director Jonas Akerlund is best known for his controversial Prodigy "Smack My Bitch Up" video and Madonna's "Music." He is unafraid to put this sordid bunch right up in your face flinging the greasy underbelly of the So Cal meth scene sunny side up and zooming in with the cameras up close and personal to a point that's almost unbearably uncomfortable. Akerlund's techniques are sometimes overdone like the bone-crunching sounds and wildly rolling eyeballs that herald each and every high and sometimes screamingly funny like Ross's daydream of a Patton-like Cook pontificating about the female vagina in front of an American flag. A well-done score by former Smashing Pumpkins' singer Billy Corgan moves the film fluidly from calm states of relative normalcy to paranoid herky-jerky scenes of jabbering addicts flying right off the mental deep end. These people are shallow vile and irredeemable and Akerlund's brilliance lies in making you feel for them in spite of themselves.
After surviving a devastating car accident following her first college party freshman Cassie (Melissa Sagemiller) falls into a coma and steps into a nightmare of otherworldly visitations. Haunted by a grim reaper of a far different kind her only hope is to cling to chance encounters with her lost love Sean (Casey Affleck) and the aid of a mysterious young priest named Father Jude (Luke Wilson). Cassie's malicious friends Matt (Wes Bentley) Annabel (Eliza Dushku) and the morose Raven (Angela Featherstone) seem intent on drawing her to the dark side but the spirit of her soul mate Sean guides her back to the world of the living.
Sagemiller (Get Over It) may be a fine actress but this film--her second full-length feature--isn't the one to prove it. Not that Sagemiller does a poor job but like most dull and stale horror movies the female lead isn't asked to do much other than look frightened and scream--a lot. Affleck (Good Will Hunting) Bentley (American Beauty) and Dushku (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back) are among the more talented actors of their generation but are completely wasted especially Affleck in his one-dimensional role. Wilson as Father Jude is the only character with an interesting part but unfortunately the good Father's development is stunted and incomplete leaving Wilson little to work with.
Steve Carpenter's first turn as a director leaves much to be desired. Of course Carpenter wrote the formulaic script so why shouldn't he be the one to helm it? One major flaw (and there are plenty to choose from) is that nearly half the movie is shot tight on the characters giving the audience a very myopic view. Even if that was intentional it certainly did nothing to heighten the tension (what little of it there was) in the movie. The flick's tagline "The World of the Dead and the World of the Living... are About to Collide" conveys the message of an epic struggle between the forces of evil and the forces of good--a struggle that never materializes. And the film's final message that love conquers all is the boring hackneyed truism that breaks the cliché camel's back.