TONY PORCO’S MOVIE REVIEW NEWSLETTER–SUMMER 2007 BLOCKBUSTER ISSUE

Hey, folks! Despite the pretentious title above, this newsletter does not contain reviews of any actual summer blockbusters; it only includes my takes on a few things we’ve rented lately. That said, I will try to see at least one actual summer blockbuster (most likely one of the cartoons, to which I’ll take Eric) and report back to you on it sometime in the near future. By the way, the long-anticipated all-Western issue of the newsletter is coming soon, possibly as soon as next month–I would have done it this month, but I’m still finishing up the last few articles. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this issue...

BECAUSE I SAID SO: Some say that the phrase "Because I said so" is a cop-out, said by parents at their least creative. Others say that it's a perfectly understandable response to the barrage of "why" questions a typical child asks, and that every parent says it sooner or later. If you subject yourself to the movie Because I Said So, you should keep the first statement in mind, since the movie is the lamest, most uncreative, most commercial, most tiresome, most condescending, and all-around lousiest movie you're likely to see for many years. Much of the responsibility, as much as I hate to say it, goes to Diane Keaton, who for some reason accepted the role of the smothering, overprotective mother to three supposedly-grown daughters. She overacts horribly, and the mannerisms that made her so entertaining in so many Woody Allen movies are just annoying and jarring here. The three daughters--Mandy Moore (who, for the horrid sin of being single, gets

most of Mom's attention), Piper Perabo, and Lauren Graham from the Gilmore Girls TV show--don't look anything like sisters. Still, you can tell that they are sisters because they all act in a similar (petulant) way, and (like sisters everywhere, the movie assumes) they all share way too

much information with each other about every damn thing, especially about things sexual, of course (the TMI in this movie makes Y Tu Mama Tambien look like a potluck dinner at a Lutheran church). Of course, this is true of the script, which is full of things that the script writer thinks are funny that actually aren't funny. For instance, the filmmakers think it's hilarious (and not at all creepy) that Mom takes out personal ads and trolls internet dating sites looking for a man for daughter Moore--and that the predictable montage of guys who are nerdy, or weird, or Indian (yes, the movie thinks it's a strange eccentricity to be Indian) coming to meet Mom (yes, Mom, not the daughter) is both original and a knee-slapper. The culmination of all this is what is supposed to be a show-stopping scene: Keaton's character logs on to what she thinks is a dating site, only to find out that it's actually an, um, adult site, and has to call tech support to get out of it, providing lots of classy laughs as the tech support guy hears the heavy breathing in the background and her dog, in case anyone missed the point, starts miming intercourse with a nearby ottoman. (Of course, it doesn't occur to this genius to CLOSE THE WINDOW or TURN DOWN THE VOLUME ON THE MONITOR before she calls.) As if this wasn’t enough to convince anyone of the utter lack of intelligence that this movie assumes on the part of its audience, instant violin music starts up on cue every time something emotional or sappy starts to happen. Some cleverness toward the end, and two likable male characters (played by Gabriel Macht and the ever-dependable Stephen Collins, whom we just saw in All the President's Men), can't save this godawful Keaton vehicle from sinking into a swamp of triteness, tiresomeness, and TMI. Of course, it doesn’t help that any late-movie cleverness is undercut by one of the worst endings I’ve ever seen, complete with bad singing and mean-spiritedness–and I don’t know about you, but mean-spiritedness is something I always look for in a romantic comedy. From the beginning to the end, I have never seen a film that gets this many things wrong, this consistently. While there's plenty of blame to go around for that, Keaton must take a substantial share of it. She, after all, was one of the best things about some of the best movies I've seen in my life--Annie Hall, Interiors, Looking for Mr. Goodbar, and especially Manhattan. Diane, why did you do it? Was it because the money said so? RATING: 1.

BORAT--CULTURAL LEARNINGS OF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN: I had heard that Borat was pretty tasteless, so I was worried that it would offend me; surprisingly, I ended up more disappointed than offended. Granted, the premise is great--Borat Sagdiyev, a somewhat clueless reporter from the eponymous central Asian country (Sacha Baron Cohen, whom I last saw in the kids' movie Madagascar) and his producer Azamat (Ken Davitian) are sent by their homeland's information ministry to America to "make documentary film" and see what "learnings" they can glean for their country from the experience. Apparently, they spend roughly five minutes actually studying the country they plan to visit, although the Americans they meet along the way are equally ignorant and small-minded. That's the movie's main joke; the trouble is that it's also just about the movie's only joke, and it gets old about halfway through the movie. Of course, the raunchiness is there too, and it gets tiresome as well; there's a nude male wrestling scene, apparently inspired by the similar one in the 1960's movie Women in Love, that goes on for at least five minutes longer than it should. The movie deserves some points for being a largely original idea, for its clever parodies of old Communist propaganda films and The Blair Witch Project, and for some satire that must have offended at least a few people in its target American audience--but only some points. RATING: 6.

THE NOMI SONG: Years ago, at my old job, I had a co-worker who loved 80's punk and new-wave music. One day at lunch, he brought in a video of an early-80's rock festival that featured many big names of that time and genre--Sting, Elvis Costello, Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, and others. Among these well-known acts was one I'd never seen before--a tall, thin singer, dressed in a triangular plastic vest and hair and makeup that suggested a Gothic version of Bozo the Clown. He was belting out opera-style music in a soprano-high falsetto, while behind him, a rock band dressed in white laboratory coats played up-tempo music. After a few minutes of this, my friend's supervisor walked in, took one look at the screen, and said "What the f--- is this?" I have since learned that the performer's name was Klaus Nomi, he was one of the first prominent people to die of AIDS (in 1982, just as he was getting famous), and "What the f--- is this" was, for better or for worse, a common reaction to him. Andrew Horn's documentary takes him seriously as an artist, and does not consider him merely a novelty act, which is one of the likable things about it. Another is the fact that since Nomi didn't live that long ago, many people who worked with him--voice teachers, set designers, friends, band members, and so on--are still around, and a great many of them were interviewed for the movie. (One thing that struck me while watching these segments was that for all of Nomi's eccentricity and "out there" status, everyone in his inner circle comes off as remarkably ordinary and down-to-earth.) There's also a lot of concert footage, including an ill-advised double bill with the heavy metal group Twisted Sister in New Jersey, where Nomi was booed by a perplexed and homophobic crowd. Nomi had a better time performing with David Bowie (an obvious influence on him) on Saturday Night Live, and this is probably the movie's musical highlight (although I wish that they had included an entire song in the documentary, instead of an excerpt). The tragedy of Nomi’s death isn’t neglected or sugarcoated; the movie doesn’t have much uplifting news to report on it (because so little was known about AIDS at that time, including how it spread, Nomi died essentially alone, with even his friends unwilling to visit him in the hospital). Overall, this is a very watchable documentary that provides an excellent introduction to an undeservedly little-known artist, and succeeds in making people who know little or nothing about him (in other words, most people) want to learn and hear more. RATING: 8.

Until next time.....

TONY