You Were Duped

By Warren Curry

If you’re like me, then last fall you were eagerly anticipating the December release of “Rocky Balboa.” If you’re like the rest of the sane world, then the mere thought of the film caused you to react with an uncomfortable mix of nervous laughter and hushed horror. When the movie hit American screens last December 20, it was largely met with positive reviews from critics, many who admitted that “Rocky Balboa” was perhaps the film they were least looking forward to viewing during the busy holiday season. Surprising, huh? No, not really.

Though it’s just a theory, with little evidence to support it, I’m convinced most “Rocky Balboa” proponents are not genuine fans of the film. My feeling is that the majority of these people really only appreciate the spirit and effort Sylvester Stallone put into making the franchise come full circle. It’s a bold claim, and maybe not an entirely valid one (I’m like Dr. Phil that way), so let me attempt to dig myself out of this hole.

Starting with “Rocky III” (my personal favorite chapter in the series), Stallone made the decision to turn the story of the scrappy, underdog boxer into a cartoon. Rocky stopped being the everyman and vaulted into the stratosphere of superhero. He saved the world from a badass bully with a mohawk (Clubber Lang), a cheating, steroid injecting Russian gargantuan (Ivan Drago), a crooked promoter (George Washington Duke) and a young pugilist corrupted by fame and greed (Tommy “Machine” Gunn). But when “Rocky V” hit theaters, the general public, much like Tommy Gunn, turned their back on Rocky. The film grossed a disappointing $40 million at the box office, a staggering decline from the previous two installments, which each raked in well over $100 million.

In many ways, the ’80s weren’t kind to Rocky Balboa, the character. Sure, he triumphed at the end of every movie, but his ego became appallingly bloated. The money, the popularity, it all went straight to his head, and the result was a character you rooted for only because his adversaries were so much more dislikeable. (I can’t be the only person who hoped Apollo’s punch landed first in the freeze frame punctuated sparring session at the end of “Rocky III.”) Face it, this was another obscenely self-absorbed athlete in dire need of his comeuppance.

Who received the comeuppance, it turned out, was Stallone. The 1990s brought about a relatively seismic shift in pop culture, and it wasn’t long before many of us were laughing at the excesses we so revered the previous decade. By the latter half of the ’90s, Stallone was viewed as a humorous relic from a distant time, much like the way we all snickered at bell bottoms in 1985. Gone were the days of Rocky and Rambo, now it was “Judge Dredd” and “Daylight.” After winning some critical accolades for his “serious” performance in the kind of, sort of, but not really all that good “Cop Land,” the aging actor was relegated to roles in a string of inconsequential movies (”Driven,” “Avenging Angelo,” “Shade”).

Stallone obviously saw his window of opportunity closing. He was an actor who couldn’t escape his past, so instead of trying to run from it, he embraced it. If he was always going to be thought of as Rocky or Rambo, then why not give the people what they want (”John Rambo” — notice a theme? — is currently in production)? Stallone claimed he wasn’t happy with the way “Rocky V” turned out (I wonder why?) and wanted a better conclusion to the series. If that was his one goal, then “Rocky Balboa” is a success.

My feeling is that goal was also the only demand of critics and the public. Set expectations low enough and just about anything (except “Basic Instinct II”) will exceed them. When I saw the film, I remember thinking it was a nice try, but that it lacked too much in the way of storytelling skill to truly work. As someone who wanted to like the movie, I was almost sad that I wouldn’t be able to defend it against the critical beating I was sure it would receive. But then the strong reviews came pouring in, and soon people who had openly poked fun at me for my interest in the film were proudly supporting it. I anticipated being on one side of the “Rocky Balboa” argument, but found myself completely in the other corner.

I hope fans of the film can at least admit it’s absurd. Of course, Rocky III-V were fantastically more absurd, but that was the point of those movies. They were connected to reality by only the loosest thread and made no bones about that fact. “Rocky Balboa” attempts to be the same kind of gritty, feel-good entertainment as the original “Rocky,” but still exists in a fantasy world. Aside from some guy on the Internet named Warren Curry’s sharp review (click here to read), I’m not sure if any other critic pointed out how preposterous a key story beat in this film is.

The climactic “exhibition” fight between Rocky, who’s coming out of a long retirement, and the film’s ostensible villain, current heavyweight champion Mason “The Line” Dixon (played by former light heavyweight champ Antonio Tarver), is set up by Dixon’s management team so their fighter can obtain the public’s much needed respect. Whaaaat??? This would be the equivalent of Floyd Mayweather’s manager deciding that a match against Sugar Ray Leonard would be a way to earn his fighter credibility. In reality, Mayweather would be mercilessly ridiculed and rightfully torn to shreds by the boxing media if this happened. Since you’re probably not a boxing fan, and are currently asking yourself “Floyd Who?,” here’s another sports analogy.

Let’s imagine, like Dan Tester does, the Chicago Bears won the most recent Super Bowl. They’re regarded as one of the weaker Super Bowl champs in NFL history, and after ESPN airs the result of a video game, which shows the 2006 Bears going down to defeat against the 1985 Bears, Chicago coach Lovie Smith calls an emergency team meeting. He informs his players that the only way to gain the respect of football fans is to face the ‘85 team in a game of two-hand touch. Never mind that Walter Payton is dead and Refrigerator Perry could succumb to a heart attack walking off the team bus. No, if Brian Urlacher and crew wish to be considered a gutty football squad, they have to put an end to the Super Bowl Shuffle. I’m sure a better writer could work in a “Footloose” reference here.

Getting back to “Rocky Balboa,” let’s consider the fight itself. Any professional referee interested in keeping his job would stop the bout when Rocky gets knocked down in the first round. And how about the judges’ literally impossible scorecards? Before you say, “it’s just a movie!” can you imagine if a football film depicted scene after scene of two teams scoring touchdowns, only to reveal the game’s final score is 7-3? I find it impossible to believe anyone would excuse such inattention to detail. Being a big boxing fan, it’s possible I’m overly defensive, but it seems Stallone always finds a way to make a mockery of the sport. Toss in a few cheaply vulnerable moments when Rocky pines for the late Adrian, an especially despicable Paulie (Burt Young), a strangely uncomfortable scene where Rock is dissed by some young troublemakers in a bar, a surrogate son character who is sloppily abandoned halfway through the film, and I maintain that you have to give this movie EVERY benefit of the doubt to be a fan.

If you didn’t see this film in the theater, you may or may not be interested to know it was released on DVD this week. It’s supposed to have some solid bonus features and an alternate ending (if you’ve seen the DVD, feel free to share this ending in the comments section). As you might have guessed, I won’t be adding “Rocky Balboa” to my collection. To bring this blog to a rushed, unnatural conclusion, let me say, in summation, it’s not that I feel you’re wrong for being a “Rocky Balboa” fan. It’s simply that I don’t believe you.

Dead Celebrity Blog - Part One

By Dan Tester

In an unprecedented scientific experiment, we here at CINEMASPEAK.COM are proud to announce that CINEMASPEAK.COM is, today, launching an innovative and futuristic feature to the blogosphere. With the combined participation of the FCC, NASA, the NAACP, the ASPCA, TCBY Yogurt, and the YMCA, and most importantly in participation with world-famous “chatting with dead celebrities” psychic Sylvia Browne, CINEMASPEAK.COM is introducing a series of blogs from deceased celebrities, to try to get a feeling of the afterlife in four key categories: their thoughts, their experiences, their opinions, and their thoughts.

On this day, CINEMASPEAK.COM is proud to introduce Part One of, hopefully, a long list of deceased celebrities contributing their thoughts, experiences, opinions, and thoughts of cinema excellence, from the aspect of a deceased dead person. As a side note, we cannot predict, or direct, what the dead celebrities will discuss. Due to the great expense of this process, editing would not even be a possible, but we can only hope that the dead celebrities will follow the stated topical guidelines of the webmaster, as would a loyal “living” contributor to the site. We can only hope…and do hope…that they will only discuss movies. But they may not.

First, the legal matters:

LEGAL NOTICES: CINEMASPEAK.COM is not responsible for any of the content provided by dead celebrities. CINEMASPEAK.COM cannot, and will not, be held liable for any asinine or shameful displays of cinema ignorance proffered by dead celebrities (please see the “KIM JUSTICE RULE” in the official Cinemaspeak handbook for the full details).

And now, without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen…CINEMASPEAK.COM, the FCC, NASA, the NAACP, the ASPCA, TCBY Yogurt, and the YMCA….are proud to present to you…dead from the Great Beyond….Old Ski Nose himself…the one…the only…the Mister…..BOB HOPE!!!!!!!!!!!….

buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……….

Hello, Hollywood phonies. This is Bob “From The Great Beyond” Hope. Even though I’m just a rotting corpse, I still watch FOX NEWS for all the headlines, so I am up to date. Isn’t that sumthin’, boy?

Hey, how about that James Cameron? Isn’t he sumthin’? First he sank an indestructible ship, and now he is taking on Christianity. Isn’t that wild? Ooh Boy, I gotta tell ya. That’s wild. Jesus’ Lost Tomb? This whole thing reminds me of that movie THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST from a few years back. Did you see that one? That was really sumthin’. That Mary Magdelene was sure sumthin’. Rawwwwwrrrhhhh. I gotta tell ya, you gotta hand it to Jesus. At my age, I don’t even think about sex when I’m havin’ a good day, let alone bein’ crucified. But that James Cameron documentary sure caused a stir. I’ll tell ya, boy, I haven’t seen the news channels so focused on false prophets since that whole Enron thing.

Hey, how about that Enron, wasn’t that sumthin’? Zsa Zsa Gabor told me that one day there was a rolling blackout in her neighborhood and she called the fuzz, but luckily it was just Nipsey Russell trippin’ over her front hedge and fallin’ down a hill. I gotta tell ya, that was pretty wild. That Nipsey was a genius, boy. He could rhyme anything.

But to get serious here for a moment, buy War Bonds.

So how about that Ann Coulter? She sure has a mouth on her, boy. I haven’t heard such vile language coming out of a chick’s mouth since my wife Dolores caught me bangin’ Dorothy Lamour on the set of “Road To Zanzibar.” Boy, that was sure sumthin’ wasn’t it?

But for an anorexic dyke, Ann Coulter sure does like to spout out the hatred, boy. Hey, I know John Edwards is married to a chubby gal, but that don’t mean he is gay, boy. I know lots of chubby chasers who are straight. It’s wild. I gotta tell ya though, one time, in 1972, I called Charles Nelson Reilly a faggot, but he just smiled and made that ‘Younggg Younggg Younggg” sound while tuggin’ at his collar. Times have sure changed, boy. I gotta tell ya, there was nuthin’ wrong with it back then. It was just havin’ fun. Isn’t that wild? Right heeeeyaaaaa!!!

Hey, how about that President Bush? Isn’t he wild? I haven’t seen a President this smart since Corky ran for President of his high school on “Life Goes On.” That was sure sumthin’. And Cheney too, nutty, nutty stuff. You know what they say about Cheney. “He’s a heartbeat away…from a heartbeat.” Now they say he has a blood clot in his leg. I have a feeling Scooter Libby was just told to report that to the press so those boys can get Rudy Giuliani on the ticket but fast, boy. I gotta tell ya, that’s sumthin’, boy. But that White House, that’s really sumthin’, isn’t it? I always said that if you have a Dick and a Bush too close together for too long, somethin’ is gonna get fucked. I had just never realized until the 2000 election how much the United States looks like a big, deformed vagina when you turn your atlas sideways. Right heeeeyaaaaa!!!

Hey boy, I was just told that I am supposed to recommend a movie to you all. I would go with CLERKS 2, by a nice fella called Kevin Smith. I gotta tell ya, it is a great movie. There’s some good stuff in that movie, boy. But there’s a scene where a man has sex with a donkey. Back in my day, there was nuthin’ wrong with that. It was just havin’ fun, boy. But a lot of people up here in the Great Beyond were offended. I hear that movie critic Joel Siegel was offended. Joel Siegel? Does anyone pay attention to what this mustachioed nut has to say about anything, anyway? I gotta tell ya, that would be pretty wild if it were true. I also saw another movie recently. It was called BACHELOR PARTY. That was some wild stuff, boy. It starred Hollywood’s Tom Hanks, and also featured a scene with suggested bestiality. I think the director of CLERKS 2 was just making a point, boy. Bestiality is bestiality. Suggested or depicted, it is just deplorable. But Hollywood’s Tom Hanks got off scott free. I gotta tell ya, people love that Tom Hanks, boy. But CLERKS 2 caused a douche like Joel Siegel to go running and screaming from the theater, boy. At least I think that was Joel Siegel. It might have been Gene Shalit. My eyesight is goin’, boy. I can always make out a mustache though. On a side note, up here in the Great Beyond, the only movie review show on TV features Joel Siegel and Byron Allen discussing the movies of the day. I might be in Hell, boy. Kids, I gotta tell ya, don’t do drugs.

Well, I think it’s about time for me to travel back to the Great Beyond, boy. Anna Nicole Smith just recently arrived up here, and she sure is gettin’ down to business quick. Let’s just say her trousers are nothing more than ankle warmers. Ooooooooohweeeeeeee! She likes old, wrinkled millionaires, boy. And up here in the Great Beyond, I only have five criteria for the trash I will schtupa: dumb, blonde, drugged up, big-tittied and dead. Should be a fun Lent! Rawwwwwwwr.

Well, this is Bob “Gettin’ Me Some Tush” Hope sayin’ “Be Good To Your Family, They’ve Been Good To You!” Right heeeeyaaaaa!!!

buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……….

CINEMASPEAK.COM thanks you for participating in this groundbreaking experiment. And now, a few critical reviews…

“If you only read one blog all year, read Tester!” Larry King, CNN

“If blogging was an art form, Tester would be considered an artist among the likes of Da Vinci, Goya, Picasso, and that really angry guy that just threw paint brushes at a canvas!” Deborah Norville, INSIDE EDITION

“Cheese Nips are good, but if you add your own extra cheese to ‘em, I like ‘em even more!” President George W. Bush, THE CRAWFORD TIMES

“I love Dan Tester. He will make a fine 3rd Husband!” Titty McJesusFreak, HARPO PRODUCTIONS

“I am a douche, and I thank Mr. Tester for pointing that out. This is surely the feel good blog of the year.” Joel Siegel, WHOEVER WILL PAY MY MUSTACHE

Hollywood Magic

By Dan Tester

I recently saw IDIOCRACY, the new film (on DVD) from Mike Judge. I liked it, but was kind of disappointed at the same time. It certainly wasn’t the balls out satire that OFFICE SPACE was. IDIOCRACY kind of died during it’s deadly final third. What was that all about? Yeah, I get it. White Trash. Smash stuff up. But let’s end this thing on some sort of creatively inspirational note, why not? But it didn’t. Well, it kinda did, but not as much as OFFICE SPACE did. I still liked it though. Particularly the message…White Trash, Red State, Bush Loving morons, with a dash of unprotected sex, are going to lead to the end of civilization. You know what I am talking about. The kind of morons that would rather sit amongst a toothless legion and watch the Daytona 500 than actually figure out how to determine percentages. The first quarter of IDIOCRACY was particularly brilliant. The middle three quarters, fine stuff. The fourth third was a little lacking. But that final half…well, I think I covered that already.

What has two teeth and 100,000 legs? The crowd at the Daytona 500. (To be fair, my client Scooter Libby told me that one during recess).

FILM NOTE: (SPOILER ALERT- For dumbasses that read reviews before they actually see the movie, and then whine about learning things about the movie before they saw it, you have been warned). One of the funniest things I have seen in a movie in quite some time came during IDIOCRACY. To preface, we get the whole exposition of the white General explaining the sleep deprivation experiment to the military brass. We learn that this General has met a pimp, who has had some sort of life reevaluating effect on the General. The scene plays out with the slide show (funny in itself), but then later….we see our two protagonists preparing for the deep sleep, getting to know each other, and then suddenly that same white General enters the laboratory and says…”What’s up, my niggahs?” I swear, I almost fell off the sofa laughing.

It is interesting, because I waited to see IDIOCRACY until I moved into my new apartment, about a week ago or so. It was going to be a christening of sorts…enjoying a quality film on the first night of solitude. I watched it, and then went to bed. The next day, I was televisickly informed that Anna Nicole Smith was dead.

IDIOCRACY…Anna Nicole Smith dead. It just struck me as an interesting first post on the newest incarnation of the Cinemaspeak website, to discuss the parallels. IDIOCRACY is about dumb human beings. Anna Nicole Smith was a dumb human being, and it has become apparent that millions of dumb human beings actually care about the post-breath-sucking situation of a dumb human being. FOX NEWS has made a 24-hour telethon of this stuff. Is there still a war going on in Iraq, FOX NEWS? Anna Nicole couldn’t have died at a better time for Sean Hannity.

Did anyone watch that trial on TV? Dan Hedaya made a hell of a judge, but not even David Kelley would have allowed Shelley Berman to spout that much crap on BOSTON LEGAL. I have a feeling judgie-poo is angling for his own TV show. It was apparent that not only were the defendants and plaintiffs IDIOCRACY material, but so was the friggin’ judicial system. As a side note, I loved the whole damn thing. It was fine, fine TV. The only way it could have been improved would have been if William Hung had staggered into the courtroom and sang “Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady” right before Judge Dan Hedaya read his verdict.

But anyway, I let that one go, because it would probably be considered inappropriate. Speaking ill of the dead is not accepted by the American masses, so please, disregard anything I said above. Just start reading right here.

I was thinking about resurrecting the CINEMASPEAK prediction board for the Oscars, which I think is going to be another shameful display where horrible things will happen…like Scorsese finally winning for an average display like THE DEPARTED. If this is the case, they should have just given him the Oscar for BRINGING OUT THE DEAD years ago, and let Paul Greengrass win this year. Was Greengrass even nominated? That movie was amazing. Too amazing for the Oscars, anyway. I have no idea who is nominated this year. I have turned my back completely on Hollywood bullshit. After Scorsese lost for THE AVIATOR a few years ago, I turned to my friends and said “There is no way Scorsese will ever lose if he is ever nominated again. Scorsese could direct a 4-hour epic that simply depicted Robert De Niro sitting on a toilet, occasionally farting, occasionally pooping, all the time alternating between reading scripture and singing Jerry Reed songs, and Scorsese would be a lock for his Oscar.” It will come true this Sunday, for a piece of average poop like THE DEPARTED. Sad. Sad. Sad. Sad.

I am rooting for Jackie Earle Haley for Best Supporting Actor. When I was writing nonsense on the old Cinemaspeak message boards, I used to write “KING’S THINGS”, which was a column written by Larry King with thoughts “off the top of his head” like he used to do in USA TODAY back in the 80s, but this time as if Larry King had lost his mind (oh, he hasn’t? Could’ve fooled me. - Warren). I remember Larry asking “Whatever happened to Jackie Earle Haley? He is long overdue for a big hit!!” I am glad to hear crazy Larry King was right. If I were in the audience come this Sunday, and they were announcing the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, and they read the name of Jackie Earle Haley, I would stand up and start chanting “Let Him Play! Let Him Play! Let Him Play!’ Then, when Norbit won, he would go up and dedicate the award to Mr. Jackie Earle Haley, just like Ving Rhames dedicated his award to Jack Lemmon a number of years ago. That truly was Hollywood magic. I wonder if Jack Lemmon ever got that award from Ving though. I have a feeling Jack’s dedicated trophy is probably a doorstop in the Rhames household. But it was still Hollywood magic. How dare you say otherwise.

So for Sunday, go Paul Greengrass!! It really is the only award I am truly rooting for that night. It is a shame that this is one of the few nominations that UNITED 93 got. Did you ever see BLOODY SUNDAY, another film by Paul Greengrass? I would highly recommend that, as well. He probably should have won Best Director for that, too. I can’t remember what undeserving jerk won that year, though. Oh yeah, I just remembered…it was Opie for A BEAUTIFUL MIND. That was the same year Denzel won Best Actor for TRAINING DAY. That might have been the worst year for Oscar ever. But God bless. It’s called “Hollywood magic,” you cynical bastards.

Well, gotta go submit my DNA for the “Anna Nicole Baby Lottery.” I have to admit, I could use the cash. Much more than Zsa Zsa’s husband, anyway. But I am rooting for Jimmie “Kid Dyn-no-mite” Walker to be the father. Yeah, I know, he has not yet emerged as a contender, but I can dream, can’t I?

Hollywood magic.

Films We Seem to Have Ignored: “De-Lovely”

By Memo Salazar

One thing about technology that gets to me is the way it caters to our impatience. The faster we can get our media fix, the less patient we are with the world’s artistic offerings. Our never-ending hunger for something new keeps us always looking forward, never back, and rarely allows for the thoughtful introspection many films and pieces of music (to name a couple of mediums) demand for in order to truly understand and appreciate them. It’s sad, because lots of great stuff slips through the cracks, while not-so-great-stuff rides a wave of hype that only later crashes with a “what-were-we-thinking?” sense of sobriety.

Which brings me to “De-Lovely,” producer-turned-director Irwin Winkler’s 2004 musical biopic about the late, great Cole Porter. This film was pretty much ignored when it came out a couple of years ago, and when it wasn’t ignored, it was described as…

“Stiff, lifeless and incomprehensibly dull.”

“‘De-Lovely’ is pretty standard, run-of-the-mill stuff.”

“I don’t know what I was more bothered by, his smirk or his strut.”

…and the always-hilarious twist on a title, “De-lousy.”

I saw “De-Lovely” on a lark, having no idea it even existed, simply because it was the only film that didn’t sound like absolute shit in the megaplex I happened to be at, while visiting a friend in good ol’ suburbia. I didn’t know it was a musical, but I love Cole Porter’s music, so “De-Lovely” it was. The film begins with an arguably-silly conceit of having Cole Porter (Kevin Kline), at the end of his life, sitting in a theater with an imaginary director (Jonathan Pryce) basically reviewing his life as it were a grand musical production. They speak theatrically about his life while actors recreate it on stage. Not only does this sound somewhat ridiculous, it’s also a watered-down twist on another brilliant film about music and theater, “All That Jazz.” So, ten minutes into the film, I was preparing myself for the worst.

But then the story began its slow unravel, sucking us deep into a love story like no other… and, in an industry which basically regurgitates love stories over and over, finding a fresh one is a delicacy one rarely gets to savor. It was such a delight that, by the end, even the cheesy “Porter looking back on his life in the theater” gimmick didn’t seem so gimmicky. Rather, it was earnest, sweet, and touching.

“De-Lovely” is many things. It is a musical about a man who’s life was musicals. Again, this is treading on All That Jazz territory, except Cole Porter was a real man, and all this really happened. Cleverly, the filmmakers took it a step further- not only did they tell the story via the musical genre, but they actually used Cole Porter’s song lyrics as commentary on his life and state of mind. Even if you’re familiar with his charming music, hearing his songs in this context gives a whole new meaning to this enigmatic artist; “Let’s Misbehave” and “Don’t Fence Me In”, for example, are much more revealing when Kline transforms the songs into expressions of his personal philosophy and sexuality. They transcend being merely whimsical tunes into insightful revelations of Porter’s lifelong fight against society’s restrictive ideas.

But that’s not all, folks. “De-Lovely” is also a love story between a homo (or bi, it’s never quite clear) sexual man and a heterosexual woman. This is truly the heart of the film; it is a story of how Linda Thomas (Ashley Judd) loved Porter so much that she gave up many of the traditional “benefits” that one expects from a relationship, such as fidelity and sexual fulfillment, giving Porter the freedom he craved and emotional support he needed to navigate through the difficult life he had chosen for himself. This is truly a love story, not a lust story; there is a genuine commitment and appreciation between the two that transcends the typical carnal desire Hollywood usually sells us as fodder for our minds.

Add to that several amazing performances by our famous thespians, an incredible amount of craft put into every scene (sets, lighting, cinematography, costumes…) and wonderful music that’s only occasionally butchered (hello, Alanis Morissette!) and you have one of the most unique biopics you’ve ever seen.

So why the commercial and critical could shoulder? Well, critics are a pretty insecure lot, rarely straying (whether consciously or not) from the “party line”, usually getting a feel for what the buzz is on a film before they jump into a review. And, since their livelihood depends on coming up with something entertaining to say every week about their subject, let’s just say it’s easy for them to lose sight of what really matters in art– having something to say, and saying it in an original way. “De-Lovely” manages both while sticking to a very “Hollywood” sensibility, a rare feat indeed. It’s accessible & commercial, yet intelligent & complex. It’s one of those movies that I fall in love with more and more as time goes on, and one that will undoubtedly gain critical favor as time passes, and critics realize just how damn beautiful this film really is.

Beat the critics to the punch and check it out for yourself.

The “Sickness”

By Warren Curry

I went to a screening of “Black Snake Moan” last week, the new film from “Hustle and Flow” director Craig Brewer. A friend was supposed to join me, but he fell ill at the last second and opted to skip it (presumably he’s not suffering from the same “sickness” that afflicts Christina Ricci’s character in “BSM,” although there’s no guarantee he’s not currently chained to a radiator in some strange man’s house). After the film, I was tempted to call his sudden illness the kindest stroke of luck he’ll receive this year, until I remembered that, largely due to an infatuation with Ms. Ricci, this friend will still end up seeing “Black Snake Moan.” Upon further review, I don’t know anyone unluckier than poor Ryan.

Instead of trying to find a replacement to attend the screening with me, which would’ve been my wife had she not been working (and may have lead to a divorce), I decided to go it alone. I arrived at Hollywood’s Arclight Theaters 20 minutes before show time and quickly discovered that a local dance/R&B/Hip-Hop radio station was hosting the screening. I took a seat in one of the two roped off rows reserved for press and stared directly in front of me at a large speaker, placed in front of the movie screen, that was blaring some song I’d never heard. With the theater only about half full, a young man from the radio station grabbed a microphone and attempted to rile the crowd up with the promise of t-shirts, posters and other swag to whoever could be the most raucous audience members. Some of the crowd responded to the challenge, and soon t-shirts were flying through the air into the awaiting arms of various people who love free stuff (don’t we all?). The pre-movie festivities reached its apex when the host broke into an impromptu dance to the delight of…uhhhhh…someone.

The radio station people cleared out and more viewers filed into the theater, gradually filling it to capacity. The reserved rows were relatively empty, so eventually non-press people sat amongst us, including a man next to me who appeared to have been dragged there by his girlfriend (or maybe it was is his wife, though they looked a little young to be married). It would turn out, judging by his restless body language and the fact he checked his watch approximately 20 times in the movie’s final half hour, this guy might have been the only person in attendance who liked “Black Snake Moan” less than me. Maybe.

I’m sure you’ve seen an ad or two (or 50) for the movie. Ricci plays a poor Southern nymphomaniac whose promiscuity reaches new heights when her boyfriend (played by Justin Timberlake of Color Me Badd fame) leaves for Army duty. Ricci prowls her hometown’s dirt roads clad alluringly in Daisy Dukes (but skimpier) and tiny t-shirts that reveal an alarmingly malnourished stomach. She’s there for any man’s taking until one of Justin CMB’s friends smacks her around after she observes that his manhood is not even half the size of a local African-American drug dealer/pimp who frequently scratches her itch. Say what you will about Brewer, but he manages to fulfill three racial stereotypes in one character! How’s that for economy? But back to the story…Ricci is left bruised, bloodied and unconscious on the side of the road.

Lazarus (played by Samuel L Jackson of “Loaded Weapon 1″ fame), a farmer whose wife recently left him to be with, of all people, his brother, finds Ricci, nurses her back to health, and chains the young lady (at this time she’s covered in only one of those tiny t-shirts and panties) to a radiator in order to cure the “sickness.” Lazarus learns about the “sickness” when the aforementioned well-endowed, drug-dealing pimp provides a clinical diagnosis of Ricci’s condition in the corner of a pool hall. Late in the movie, we find out the root of the “sickness,” which, if you’ve seen even one other movie featuring this sort of masochistic character, you can probably deduce before finishing this paragraph. Oh yeah, Lazarus is also a blues guitarist who’s reluctant to play these days…but if he can cure Ricci of the “sickness” then anything might be possible. Perhaps even every existing copy of “The Man” can be destroyed.

In “Hustle and Flow,” Brewer taught us that it was hard out here for a pimp, a valuable lesson I won’t soon forget. I owe a great deal to Brewer since I had weighed the pros and cons of an entry-level position in the field just prior to seeing the film. In “Black Snake Moan,” he teaches us something even more important. He instructs us how to cure the “sickness.” Our previous Brewer hero was a dickhead low rent pimp turned dickhead rap star, and this time it’s a farmer who receives critical medical information from a drug dealer/pimp/pool hall therapist, which leads him to hold a mostly naked girl hostage, shackled to his radiator. Is it too late to start a “Free Gary Heidnick!” campaign? The answer is yes; he was executed in 1999. Where were you then, Craig Brewer?

Beyond everything mentioned above, the movie’s biggest failing has to be how interminable it is. “Black Snake Moan” is probably the most painful experience I’ve had in a movie theater in the past year. Sure, I’ve seen worse films, but they at least had the courtesy to be shorter. “BSM” runs nearly two hours, but feels twice that length. The only backhanded compliment I can pay the film is that while it’s never interesting, it’s not really boring, either. In fact, boredom would’ve been preferred, as it may have allowed me to drift off to sleep for a bit. But nope, the movie was just engaging enough to keep me awake, which is another reason I resent it. I know, I know, “why didn’t you leave?” Well, my most glaring bad habit is that I never walk out of movies…unless it’s an extreme circumstance. Like when I feel a sudden twinge of the “sickness.”

It’s been brought to my attention that Richard Roeper and his guest critic, “Jersey Girl” auteur Kevin Smith, raved about “BSM” on their television show. I understand Smith’s position. It’s definitely not every day he gets a nationally televised forum to talk about a movie bad enough to make his own look good by comparison, but I wonder where Roeper is coming from. I searched out a few online reviews, and much to my surprise, the film’s early Tomatometer rating is high. One critic called the film “entertaining.” I feel the exact opposite, but it isn’t an opinion you can really argue. Another critic claimed that “BSM” answers all the naysayers who bashed “Hustle and Flow’s” misogyny. Let’s see, this movie is about a weak-willed, hedonistic young woman headed down a road to self-destruction until an older man imprisons her in his home thus saving her from herself. Yup, leave it to Craig “Gloria Steinem” Brewer to keep pushing women’s rights forward.

It’s not my place to tell you how to spend your time and money, so go ahead, be like Ryan and see “BSM” if you’d like. While you’re at it, stay for “Music and Lyrics” or “The Number 23″ afterwards, then go home and have your own personal “Grey’s Anatomy” marathon while you eat a hot dog and drink warm Bud Light. You’ll be the anti-Warren. And given that I, on the other hand, will be sitting in front of my computer, watching the “Norbit” trailer for the 800th time, that may not be a bad thing.

“RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!”

It never gets old, I tell ‘ya. It never gets old.