Alien vs. Predator vs. Alien vs. Predator

Yes, yes, I know, I know. Let's skip the part where I say something about how long it's been since I've written in this blog, and then offer up excuses, and then make a lame joke about how it won't happen again, only for it to then happen again like a week later. Let us instead fast-forward straight into content! Or what content I can conjure being OMG YOU GUYS SO STRESSED AND BUSY BLAH BLAH BLAH PROCRASTINATION CAKES.

The long and gentle spring that Mother Nature somehow saw fit to bless Texas with this year is over now, and the thick soup of Southern air and melting tar from a scorching sun have come on with a vengeance to remind me yet again to rethink my migratory patterns. (Why can't I get any company to sponsor a long journey North in the summer months? Maybe as part of a cultural exchange?) The only activities for which I can summon any energy at all are sendentary ones - reading countless trashy summer novels interspersed with Fitgerald and Eudora Welty (two novelists best suited for long summer days), watching So You Think You Can Dance from the laziness of my couch, moaning about my troubled and ill-fated life to Sven, the Swedish pool boy, as he delicately fans me with palm fronds. And watching movies, of course.

The only two things about summer that I love are vacations and the movie schedule. The vacation is rapidly approaching and stressing me out, so let's switch attentions to summer movies! Some of these I have seen in the theatre lately, some I watched at home (read: knew they'd be crap and refused to pay for them when they came out), but they're all the latest I've seen (for the first time. endless rewatchings of Step Up 2:The Streets do not count).

X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE



You guys. YOU GUYS. Man, this movie sucked. Like . . . REALLY sucked. And before you ask, no, I am not a comic book nerd. I don't even like comic books. And I don't care how faithful an adaptation a comic book movie is. All I want from a comic book movie is Shit Blowing Up, and maybe some awesome ninja skillz. And I guess Wolverine had that, but it also had:

1) terrible fight choreography. How many times must we watch Wolverine and Sabretooth yell ARGH at each other and then run at one another from across a distance (filmed from above, always)? Why not a fight where someone gets punched in the balls? There's a movie I'd like to see.

2) An incomprehensible plot. Why is Wolverine angry? I don't know, but he seems to be, a lot. Why is there A Random Elderly Couple whose sole purpose is to put clothes on Hugh Jackman's naked body, thereby negating the first interesting thing to happen in this shitty movie? Why is Liev Schreiber so mad? Is it because the last time he and Hugh were in a movie together, it was Kate & Leopold, which somehow becomes A BETTER MOVIE just by comparison to this? (note: I imdb'd Liev just to ensure that it was him in Kate & Leopold, and not Liam Neeson - long story, I get them confused sometimes - and realized he was in all three Scream movies. Well, not so much "realized" as "grudgingly remembered." ALSO from his imdb credits, I've realized that Liev Schreiber has not been in one movie I like. Not one! Which is weird, cause prior to this, I always really liked him. I must have been thinking of Liam Neeson.)

3) EGREGIOUS MISUSE OF TIM RIGGINS AND RYAN REYNOLDS. You know what would have made this movie awesome? If it had been called Tim Riggins: The Tim Riggins Story, starring Tim Riggins' Abs and Also Ryan Reynolds.

4) Adamantium. I am so fucking sick of adamantium after watching this movie, and not two months earlier, I was semi-drunkenly lobbying my friends to agree with my theory that adamantium was the world's best adjective. (My friends, being comic book nerds, disagreed on the basis that adamantium is actually a noun. However, I think the word is powerful enough to swing both ways.) How can Wolverine be killed by adamantium bullets? You don't kill humans with flesh bullets.


STAR TREK



Oh, hey? You know what DIDN'T SUCK? STAR TREK OMG. I am not a fan of Star Trek, the series(es), (I had to ask "which one does William Shatner play?" and kept referring to Spock as Dr. Spock, who wrote books about child-rearing and did not, far as I can tell, have Zachary Quinto's eyebrows) but you know what I am a fan of? Clever storytelling, compelling acting, kick-ass action sequences and Simon Pegg. So this movie TOTALLY DELIVERED! I really enjoyed the way they've set up the new franchise, and the movie wove a layered story and complex characterizations through some pretty awesome action sequences/fight scenes, really funny and poignant moments, and Winona Ryder in a wig. A+, I say.


DRAG ME TO HELL



BFF and frequent blog commenter Meredith has started an AMAZING horror movie blog where, amongst other things, she reviews new releases. So on we hied to the Friday opening night of Sam Raimi's newest movie, Drag Me To Hell. Meredith's the expert, so go read her blog for an actual review, but my own thought process went something like this:

oohprettyladycrazygypsyahhcoughingahhpleadingtoughchoices
oohJustinLongwhattheeffohmygodkickasseeestapleswhatthefuckahhhhh
oohbeardyprettyhouseahhhhhkittynonononobadbadahhheeheeheenoick
everyoneknowsgypsiesdon'thavehousesahhhnostopnooo
thankgodmeredithislettingmeholdherhandcauseiamfreakingoutrightnow
nonoawesomefuckyeshellnofuckyes!!!!

In English? GO SEE THIS MOVIE RIGHT NOW. It was so good; it completely delivered on everything it set up, it did not fall back on any sort of "safe" territory, and it was completely gruesome and funny and schlocky and horrifying and AMAZING. I'm not saying I like it better than the Evil Dead trilogy, but by the time I saw the Evil Dead trilogy, it was already an Established Cool Thing, which means that there were 10000 references to it, in-jokes, etc. That sort of divorces you from the immediacy of the thrills (plus, I think Drag Me To Hell is scarier. Evil Dead is more Awesomely Badass and Totally Wrong, but DMtH is scarier.); for me the ED trilogy is more a Cult Phenomenon That Can Be Scary, rather than A Scary Movie That Is A Cult Phenomenon. If you understand the difference?

What I loved best about Drag Me To Hell, apart from the awesome set direction in the lead character's house, was that Sam Raimi never fell back on the "It was just her imagination" horror film trope. The reason modern-day slasher flicks don't do much for me is that they are 90% fake-outs and 10% actual scares, which means that by the time the actual scares come around, I'm so over it. DMTH is 100% actual scares. If there is a funny noise coming from behind the door, it is because A DEMON IS WAITING BEHIND THE DOOR AND HE WANTS TO EAT YOUR SOUL. Not because the wind has blown through the curtains in an offbeat way. It was IMMENSE.

Know what is not so immense?

He's Just Not That Into You



LORD. The other night I decided to watch this movie (which I totally legally purchased, I swear, officer), because it has approximately 62% of Hollywood's entire acting force in it. And guess what? Imagine ALL of the bad movies those actors have ever been in (I have helpfully listed some below) and then combine them. AND THEN MULTIPLY BY A FACTOR OF GLITTER, STARRING MARIAH CAREY. And you have this shitty, shitty movie.

Here are things I have learned from watching this movie:

1) I am a lady. This means that I am a prudish*, stalking freak of nature who is obsessed either with Getting Married, Having A Baby or my MySpace Profile. (if you are keeping track, in actuality I am obsessed with: baking the perfect cupcake, Jamesons, dance parties, indie music and winning the lottery, so that I can afford to jet-set around the world with multiple romantic intrigues.)

*unless I am a scheming tramp like ScarJo, in which case I lead poor men astray after yoga classes and wind up alone and sad, because I have reached the ripe ol' age of 25 without getting married.

2) Baltimore must have the lowest Standard Of Living costs of any city in the world. Bar managers have gorgous, spacious lofts! Copy Writers can afford tons of cute, designer clothes! Jennifer Connolly has enough disposable income to basically trash her gigantic turn-of-the-century townhome with adjoined courtyard in a fit of pique!

3) Men are liars and manipulators who are only after tail. Oh. HOW I WISH THIS WERE TRUE. Someone should write a movie called "He's So Into You, He's Going To Cry On The Second Date And Talk About How He's Never Felt So Connected To Anyone Before." It can star 98% of the men I've ever dated.

4) If you are psychotically stalkerish enough, TRUE LOVE WILL COME TO YOU. Jesus, it's like this movie's been penned by Edward Cullen. Note to Hollywood: we do not need stalking to become MORE glamorized. Hasn't Say Anything done enough? Must we continue on in this ridiculous notion that if someone says they are not interested, it actually just means THEY WANT TO BE PURSUED? They wanna know what love is, baby, and they want you to show them.

(That leads me to the excellent Psychotic Letters From Men, which amused/sickened me this weekend.)

More movie reviews (including Up! and Harry Potter!) as I see them. For now I'll try to remember that I do actually have a life, such as it is, and try to commit those events to words. Possibly more often than once a financial quarter.

Thoughts on any summer movies you've seen?


Movies In Which Actors In HJNTIY Starred Which Were A Bit Shit:

Ginnifer Goodwin - Mona Lisa Smile. Julia Roberts. Julia Stiles. Kirsten Dunst. First Wave Feminism. ENOUGH SAID.

Kevin Connolly - THE NOTEBOOK. Oh, okay, fine. He's also in The Ugly Truth, which is a romantic comedy starring Katherine Heigl, and I hate her, so.

Scarlett Johansson - Remember when ScarJo was in Ghost World? Good times. Remember when she was in The Island, Scoop, The Prestige, Nanny Diaries and The Other Boleyn Girl? Not so good times.

Bradley Cooper - it pains me to say this, because I love Bradley Cooper like a fat girl loves cake, but: Failure To Launch.

Justin Long - I'd love to give him a pass, cause I love Justin Long, even though I'm a PC. But he was in Herbie: Fully Loaded AND voiced Alvin in the Alvin and the Chipmunks CGI atrocity.

Ben Affleck - Did you know his middle name was Geza? As for bad movies, see: pretty much his entire CV.

Jennifer Aniston - Where to start? From US Weekly to People to the Enquirer, Aniston has starred in one of the shittiest movies around, "Why Angelina Jolie Is A Scheming Slag Who Stole My Husband." Also: Picture Perfect.

Drew Barrymore - Oh, Drew. I can't hate you. You're too cute! and even your bad movies, like Poison Ivy, are amazing. But still, I'm not sure even you can defend Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

Busy Phillips - did you know she was in this movie? I forgot, too. Her best movie is, of course, The Smokers, a movie notable for inspiring this review: ". . . 30 minutes into the film I found myself in great sympathy of those animals who gnaw their legs off to escape a trap." If you haven't seen it, you totally should, but invite me along. It is my favorite Bad Movie of all time.


music: Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings - 100 Days, 100 Nights

Hellllllllo, Miz Lady!

I was really looking forward to seeing the new Indiana Jones. Now I'm starting to hear bad buzz about it, which makes me sad. I have a gene that makes it nearly impossible for me to spend money on a ticket for a movie that I know sucks.

I say "nearly" because the one time I went against my instinct, I ended up going with friends to see "American Wedding", a movie so bad that it made me want to cause harm to others and to myself. Everyone liked it except me, so maybe I was wrong, BUT I DON'T THINK SO.

Some of my friends expect me to see Sex & The City with them, and I probably will go, but I reserve the right to back out. We'll see what the reviews are like.

Here are movies I'm particularly interested in seeing this summer. I've already seen Iron Man (awesome awesome awesome), but it was the first theater movie I've seen in 2008, which I can't believe. I'm gonna try to see these (unless they get bad reviews, natch):

The X-Files: I Want to Believe

This has to be good. It will break my heart if it blows. I've already got a date for this movie - my mom, who turned me on to The X-Files in season 1 because I was too dense to start watching it immediately when it premiered.



Eeeeeeee, Billy Connolly!!!



Step Brothers

I really had no interest in this until I saw the preview at Iron Man. Will Ferrell's Pablo Cruise shirt hints at greatness.





Pineapple Express

Eh, this will probably suck. I've enjoyed pretty much everything Judd Apatow has touched, like, ever. One day he will disappoint me. I'm hoping this one isn't it.





Tropic Thunder

I know, I know, this is the third comedy in a row. Whatever. Robert Downey Jr. is a freaking genius, and I will beat down anyone who says differently.



I will even tolerate Ben Stiller to see RDJ in this role (although Simple Jack is so wrong it's right). Red Band trailer:





Hamlet 2

This film may never make it to my town, and I'll have to wait until it comes out on DVD to see it. But if it does show up, it'll undoubtably play in the art theater in my neighborhood. Hurrah!



"Rock Me Sexy Jesus" infects your brain like syphillis.


Soooooo many comedies. I do actually prefer drama, I swear. There's just not any coming out this summer that interest me.

Speaking of, I just saw The Orphanage, which was beautiful and heart-breaking and scared the hell out of me. I highly, highly recommend it. My friend and I talked about it for two days afterwards.



See it see it see it.

In conclusion, a baby hamster eating popcorn on a piano.

Top Ten Movies for a Sunday Afternoon

(These are all movies I love, but don't own, because their proliferation on basic cable is enough to ensure that I see them at least a few times a year.)

10) Mermaids

Did you know that I operated under the assumption that Bob Hoskins and Danny DeVito were the same person for TWENTY YEARS before I discovered the truth? Okay, so they don't look anything alike NOW, but seriously:




I mean, come on, they're practically twins. Okay, so, maybe they don't look EXACTLY alike, and maybe one of them is English and an accomplished actor of stage and screen and the other is Danny DeVito, but to my preteen eyes (and, uh, embarassingly, high school eyes, and early years of college eyes, which is the point when I finally realized that Bob Hoskins was not just Danny DeVito really acting the shit out of something and being vaguely sexy while doing so), they looked exactly the same. So for years I thought this movie was a Danny DeVito movie, and yet I still loved it.

FFS, it has CHER! And teenaged Winona Rider, which is the Very Best Winona possible! And tiny little Christina Ricci, who looks remarkably less bobble-headed at this young age. And Winona thinks you can get pregnant from KISSING. Isn't that quaint? Also, it features perhaps the Greatest Playroom Ever Created, with the under-the-sea mural and the little revolving lamp. (fun fact: while unsuccessfully googling to find a photo of that room, I came across Mermaids fanfiction. Which just proves my point that you really can find fanfiction for any damn thing.)

9) Pretty Woman

I first saw Pretty Woman during my 11th birthday slumber party. Now, some might question the decision of showing a bunch of young, pre-sexualized girls a movie about a hooker, but I feel that Pretty Woman has tons of important life lessons to impart, life lessons which help young girls navigate the often cruel and treacherous terrain of boy-girl interactions. For example: Life Lesson Number One: always carry condoms in your thigh-high boots. I cannot tell you how many times this has saved me from STD- or baby-contraction. Life Lesson Number Two: always hold out for more money from people you're negotiating with. "I would have stayed for two thousand." "I'd have paid four." Oh! Vivian! Your impestuous nature has led you astray! Life Lesson Number Three: if you are low on cash, the garnishes at a bar make for acceptable snacks. Life Lesson Number Four: Always work in a job you enjoy doing, no matter how much it pays. If you don't, you end up a blowhard who lays down way too much money on a hooker and has some weird obsession with people not answering phones. Life Lesson Number Five: It's only love if you kiss on the lips!

Plus, it has one of the all-time great female characters: Kit DeLuca. My adoration of Kit DeLuca (plus my weird crush on Enrico Colantoni) is basically what made me watch every episode of Just Shoot Me that ever aired. All I wanted was for Maya to say "Cinder-fuckin-rella," just once, but she never did. SEVEN YEARS of David Spade, Laura San Giacomo. I hope you can live with yourself.

8) Mother May I Sleep With Danger?

Best.Lifetime.Movie.EVER. I'm not sure if you can even own this movie - and I'm not sure who would want to - but anytime I see it in the tv guide on Sunday afternoon, I have to watch it. It has everything a good Lifetime movie needs: transparent characters, low-budge-scenery, a Mother Who Knows Best, and an actress best known for her role on a teen drama, now desperately trying to make a name for herself beyond learning-disabled-characters-who-aren't-allowed-to-graduate-because-they-accidentally-got-drunk-at-Prom.

7) Clueless

Clueless is sort of a shameful addition to this list, because of course I SHOULD own it. However, much in the way I don't own any of my absolute all-time favorite songs due to the risk of oversaturating myself, I can't own this movie. I would watch it ALL THE TIME, if I did. Like, I am not even kidding, every day. I'd become That Girl Who Watches Clueless Every Morning Before Work, and then my entire day's dialogue would be peppered with "Barneys" and "Baldwins" and "I had two mochaccinos and I feel like ralphing" and I would be even more obnoxious than I already am, which is, let's face it, pretty obnoxious. And, of course, I'd feel like none of my after-school activities wardrobe choices would be good enough.

Also, if I owned Clueless, like, IN MY HOUSE, I'd really never go out and meet people, because who could be more awesome than Paul Rudd as Josh? Absolutely no one, that's who. He cares about the environment! Loves Shakespeare! Participates in dance parties! He even sees the wisdom in shaving off his douchey facial hair far sooner than most boys his age (with Cher's help and guidance, of course).

So, instead, I wait to see it on TBS or TNT on Sunday afternoons, clap and jump up and down when I find it on the tv guide and settle down to spend some time with The Very Finest Literary Adaptation Ever.

And, while in that vein,

6) Emma

My love affair with this movie is well-known on this blog, and I shan't get into it again, except to say that when I first saw Jeremy Northam as Mr. Knightley tell Emma "badly done," I knew what it was to swoon.

5)Heathers

I actually DID own this movie for most of my life (first in VHS format, then the DVD), but someone borrowed the dvd in college and forgot to return it, and I've never repurchased it. Heathers is sort of a strange addition to this blog at well as it's always heavily edited for tv, and you are better off just seeing the theatrical version. However, I credit Heathers' long-standing spot at 4pm on Sundays on TBS with its popularity among the zeitgeist of this nation. When even the lamest of lame people, like my brother, can bust out an "I love my dead, gay son" reference, you know a movie's reached the heart and soul of this country. Also it is, bar none, the most true-to-life movie about high school ever written.

4) Who Framed Roger Rabbit

A) See above, in re: Bob Hoskins/Danny DeVito.
B) You have to admit that, given all animation and effects are done by hand, it's a really fucking amazing technical achievement.
C) Has the best line ever uttered by a femme fatale: "I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way."

3) Howard the Duck

Don't judge me. I was six, and I loved Lea Thompson and I thought ducks were cute and I was obsessed with aliens. And, apparently, bestiality.

Don't judge me, I said!

2) Joe Versus the Volcano

Okay, yes. I could have picked from any number of Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks films. Sleepless in Seattle? Love that film! You've Got Mail? Um . . . legitimately like that film! Well, love the scenery in the film, anyway! And Parker Posey! Love her. (Whoa, I just realized I managed to get through a whole Top Ten list about films and not have one with my Life Coach and fellow Mississippian, Parker Posey. I think that's because I own almost all of her movies.) But if I'm being completely honest, Joe Versus the Volcano wipes the floor with any of the other films, and a hell of a lot of films in general. Last week at lunch, I said to someone, "Tom Hanks has done one good film, and that's 'Big'." I totally forgot about JVtV because, in truth, I forget it's a Tom Hanks film! That's how much I love it! (I have . . . issues with Tom Hanks. His face is the face of a gummy bear. A melting gummy bear. I find him uncomfortable to watch. Have he and Renee Zelwegger done a film together? They have, haven't they? Those two . . . should avoid mating.)

Joe Versus the Volcano is an amazing film to watch on Sunday afternoons, because it allows for a little pre-Monday wish fulfillment. Don't we all dread going into our boring corporate offices on Monday, even if we otherwise enjoy our jobs? (I'm just saying, color, Unnamed Company That Employs Me. It's a crazy concept, I know, to decorate with items not in greyscale, but it just might work! Look into it.) Don't we dream of being mis-diagnosed with a brain cloud and just deciding to say, "eff it, I'm going to throw myself in a volcano?" Of being adrift on the endless sea at the ends of the earth with a giant moon filling up our vision and finally realizing the beauty of being present in this world? "Dear God, whose name I do not know - thank you for my life."

And even without all the inspirational nonsense, it's just so funny! The luggage guy! Shopping montages! (I love shopping montages, trust.) Meg Ryan, all charming and incorrigible. Tom Hanks, not making that face he usually makes. I just love, love, love this movie and anytime it comes on, I know it's going to be a good day.

1) The Cutting Edge

True Story! This past weekend, I was lazing about my parents' house Sunday afternoon and watching The Cutting Edge on TNT. This is the REAL LIFE STORY of the conversation between myself and the woman who gave birth to me, although how you could even tell that we're related is beyond my comprehension:

Her: "What is this, what you're watching?"
Me (in my best "duh, mom" voice I perfected in grade school.): "Um, The Cutting Edge, hello."
Her: "What's it about?"
Me: "WHAT? Have you never seen The Cutting Edge after TWENTY EIGHT years of being my mother?"
Her: "No, I must have missed it."
Me: "Well, you see, Kate, that's Moira Kelly. You know her from The West Wing."
Her: "Oh, yeah. okay."
Me: "Yeah, I hated her in that. ANYWAY. So Kate is this spoiled ice princess who has figure-skated all her life in the hopes of winning the Olympic Gold Medal and thus gaining her father's affection and respect. But she's sort of a spoiled twatbox -"
Her: "Erin, please."
Me: "Sorry. So she cycles through partners a lot. But then her coach found Doug, who was ACTUALLY a hockey player before an injury to his eye forced him to retire and lose his college scholarship, and he's learning how hard it is to be a figure skater and she's learning that she doesn't have to be a spoiled tightass all -"
Her: "ERIN."
Me: "SORRY. A spoiled princess and of course secretly they're in love and want to do it like bunnies, but she's engaged to Hale who is such a douchenozzle, like you wouldn't believe -"
Her: "Where do you hear these words?"
Me: "The tv. Anyway, but they fall in love and get together and skate their way to the gold medal, the end!"
Her: "Huh. It looks stupid."

It looks stupid. IT LOOKS STUPID? How can this person share my DNA, SRSLY? The Cutting Edge is NOT stupid. It is perhaps the finest Sports- or Sports-Adjacent RomCom ever made. It contains the immortal words of both ice skating, in particular, and life advice in general: "TOOOEEEEE PIIIIICK."

Stupid. STUPID. She is disowned.

Although, the movie does have one flaw. Following the logical age progression with regard to the plot, Doug and Kate are probably about 23, 24 at the oldest (Doug says that the last thing he read was the letter cancelling his college scholarship - let's assume he was a junior at the time, at the latest - and that was one year before Pamchenko came to recruit him, making him 23ish. And Kate's of course nearing retirement age, so she's got to be about 23 or 24 as well.). So why did Kate dress like Blanche Devereaux all the time? Kate! You're a figure skater with an AMAZING body. Whyfor the shoulder pads and giant caftans, baby?

End of Conversation with Mom, post "Stupid" comment:
Me: "I can't BELIEVE you would say that. This movie is amazing. This movie is my number one, all time movie to watch on Sunday afternoons. I mean, if I were doing a Top Ten list, like, about movies I like to catch on cable tv, this would top it. {Pause} Hey, is it winter or summer Olympics this year?"
Her: "Summer. 8.8.08."
Me: "Cool. Where are they?"
Her: "ERIN. CHINA. Are you living under a rock?"
Me: "Oh, yeah! With the protests, and the relay and everything. Cool, I get it."
Her: "Sometimes I don't know how you're my daughter."

Okay, you know the drill: list me your top ten. Think carefully about them!! Please know I will be silently judging you and forming ideas about the future of our relationship based on your answers.

Oh, by the way, while getting the link for The Cutting Edge, guess what I found? That's right, The Cutting Edge fanfiction. I'm totally going to read it right now.

Twice in one day? Apparently my long absence has turned me into quite the chatterbox.

I'd planned to write about the new movie from Simon Pegg and Michael Ian Black, Run, Fatboy, Run which I saw at an advanced screening last night (thanks, Mere!), but to be honest, it was neither a thing I loved, nor one I didn't. I liked it well enough but I found myself missing the subversive pop-culture references and sytlistic direction of a typical Pegg/(Stevenson)/Wright joint.

But what I would like to write about is the location of said screening, aka the best theatre in Houston, aka the Landmarks River Oaks Theatre. I love this movie theatre, y'all. In fact, it is probably my favorite theatre in America, second only to the original Alamo Drafthouse in Austin, which will always top any sort of ranking situation due to the fact that they serve actual food and also buckets of beer. But my odes to the Drafthouse shall have to wait for another day.

This is the River Oaks Theatre:




It's located in the (duh) River Oaks area of Houston, where all the hip rich folk live. I'm too poor to afford realty in the area, but they are nice enough to let us plebes roam the streets and dream about a more financially stable life. The theatre itself was built in 1939 and has been a Houston institution pretty much ever sense. It hosts first-run movies, indies and retrospectives. And, yes, it has a Rocky Horror Picture Show screening every weekend, at which I may have been present when I was a teenager. I'll say nothing about that.

The interior of the theatre is still that art-deco glam, with a small snack counter to the left and stairs leading to the second level (and the two smaller screens) to the right. And what greets you at the top of those stairs is the reason I love the River Oaks Theatre so much: a full bar.

Let me share with you a fundamental truth. No place in this entire world - not church, or a cupcake store, or a hospital birthing suite, or an old folks' home - not one place is so wonderful or awe-inspiring that its glory cannot be enhanced by a full bar. This is just a fact, people. Think back to the last time you felt absolutely one with the world, when your every breath was imbued with the satisfaction of knowing that you were exactly where you needed and wanted to be. Now, wouldn't that have been better with some whiskey?

The movies are no exception. Whether you're drinking to shut out the horror of what you're seeing, or to celebrate two animated rodents fall in love, you have to admit it all goes down better with the booze option. And this is why , more than the releases shown or its desperate attempt to make Houston a bit cooler, River Oaks Theatre is a good thing.

xx erin

My Favorite Actors Who Are Not Dead, Part One.

This is the first of several posts that will hopefully bring your attention to some kickass actors. I've decided to focus on actors who have not snuffed it yet.

Why? Dunno, perhaps if not, I'd talk incessantly about John Cazale , who is probably my favorite actor ever, and who only appeared in five films (which were ALL nominated for best picture, by the way) before he died of bone cancer at age 42.

And he was freaking brilliant in EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. When I discovered his work (years after he'd died, because I was, like, 10 or something when he passed away), I mourned the fact that this is all we get from him, five perfect performances.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be talking about actors who are not dead. So.

Paddy Considine


WHY: Because he can go from funny to frightening in .2 seconds. Because he's a chameleon who, even though his appearance doesn't change much from role to role (apart from a haircut and/or occasional facial hair), completely inhabits his characters to the point where you can't imagine he doesn't talk like, walk like, behave like that in real life. Because he's one of the few actors who can break my heart watching him.

WATCH: Dead Man's Shoes, 24 Hour Party People (small role, but man, is he ferocious. My first exposure to Paddy, and I totally crushed on him after seeing this movie.), A Room for Romeo Brass, In America, Hot Fuzz (small role again, but the funniest person in the room in all his scenes. I'm not biased either, the DVD cast commentary proves it. The rest of the actors worship him, including SimonPegg, thankyouverymuch.)

The Boy Who Could Fly

It's not often that I reminisce about my childhood. I didn't have a particularly unhappy childhood, by any means; I just didn't like myself overly much, and what's the point of looking back on a time in which you felt you were not totally awesome? There is none. No point. That said, today someone mentioned offhand the movie The Boy Who Could Fly and I was instantly taken back to a much more innocent, yet frizzier-haired time.

The year was 1989. (I think. It could have been 1990. I really can't say. The late-80s, early-90s were, for me, a lost time comprised mostly of badly permed hair, tragic sartorial choices and changing my baby brother's diaper. I've successfully repressed most of it.) The scene: my living room. The cast of characters: myself and my childhood friend Natalie. I remember that my mother was outside in the backyard gardening and my dad had taken my baby brother for some male/drooling turtle bonding. Natalie and I, having grown tired of my toys, looked for other entertainment. First we worked on our Star Search dance routine, which we were sure would not only get us on the show but also ensure our victory over the reigning champions, and which consisted mostly of finger snaps, some tumbling moves and one very ill-timed high kick. To this day, it is probably the best choreography I have ever come up with. Our dance perfected (well, for that day. We obviously could not go full-tilt without the requisite feather boas or sequined headbands.), we decided to relax and watch a movie. I skimmed the shelves of VHS tapes until I came across one with a hand-written label: The Boy Who Could Fly.

Sounds great, doesn't it? A boy! AND HE FLIES. This promised to be warm-hearted family fare, perfectly appropriate for two children in the blush of innocence. I popped the tape into the VCR and Natalie and I settled down on the floor. What appeared on the screen, however, was a little more than we'd bargained for.

The movie opens with a shot of a red Corvette pulling up to a house. A woman steps out of the car wearing killer red stilettos . . . and nothing else. As I can recall, she then goes up to the door and knocks seductively (I assume it was seductively. I was nine, so I didn't really know. She could have been doing Shave-and-A-Haircut, for all my grasp of subtlety.). A muscular, yet disturbingly hairy, man opens the door in much the same attire as the woman. Um, he didn't have on heels, though. What proceeded to follow was enough to ensure that neither Natalie nor I ever needed The Talk from our parents. We got a few years' worth of sex education in one short afternoon.

Natalie turned to me shortly after the first blow-job, but before the neighbor-accidentally-walks-in-and-then-joins-in scene, and said, wide-eyed, "Erin, I don't think this is The Boy Who Could Fly." But I, with all the naivete and perseverence of youth, answered, "oh, no, see, I think they taped The Boy Who Could Fly over this movie. It'll probably start any second."

Thirty minutes later, The Boy Who Could Fly still had not magically appeared, and just as we were about to accept that there would be no flying in this movie we were watching, my mother came in from outside. You know how, sometimes, you're really angry with someone for snooping in your drawers, and the anger is one-half "how could you do this?" righteous indignation, and one-half extreme embarassment that they might have seen your threadbare underwear, or your baggie of pot, or your trapper-keeper that was covered with a picture of Kirk Cameron and had "Mrs. Doogie Howser" scrawled on the top (whatever, fifteen is still a perfectly fine age to nurse your dreams of wedding a brilliant, teenage doctor)? Multiply that by the factor of Holy Shit My Third-Grader Is Watching Porn And Her Super-Catholic Friend Is Watching It With Her. The resulting sum might begin to approach the level of apoploxy my mother exhibited. Natalie had to go home immediately and her parents banned her from coming over to my house to play for a year. My parents insisted on pre-watching every movie I expressed an interest in until I was fourteen. Worse, I never did get to find out what happened to the nice people in the film. They all seemed so happy.

As I look back, I have to confess that it was a memorable - if emotionally scarring - way to find out what we all find out some day: my parents watch porn. It could have been worse. It could have been home-made porn and not, as I later came to find out, something a friend of theirs taped off Skinemax one night. But still, to this day, I have not seen The Boy Who Could Fly. I just have too much related guilt to ever be able to watch it. Natalie at least got to go to Confession, eventually.