Look, I watch it. I'll just get that out of the way right now.

I've tried not to discuss this, but I just can't bottle it up inside anymore. And before you get carried away, no, I never watch the competitive shows down the stretch run. But I do think the production of the first few shows, with the mass auditions, is excellent.

It's only partially about talent (or the outright lack thereof), because a show created solely for the exposition of talent is no fun. Ditto for the personal snapshots of people and personalities, as interesting and marginally inspiring as they may be.

No -- you can chalk my interest up to voyeurism. I love seeing train-wreck performances by self-deluded starlets who run smack into the reality of their teenage mediocrity. Since these kids should already know better, I feel a certain glee at seeing their confidence crumble beneath the withering criticism of cackling judges.

They emerge from their auditions, shell-shocked and bewildered by those preceeding moments of lost poise. They know that we know; as their failure resonates for all to see, we watch as they face not a camera, but rather, a mirror.

As much as the masses yearn for the uplifting and inspiring selection that will inevitably conclude this series, we love to see conceited and narcissistic people fail even more. But as much as we love to see the vain fall, even moreso are we enthralled by those portraits of people who are too full of themselves to even realize how fucked up they are:

"This person can't really think they're any good. God, that rendition was horrid. Yeah, they actually do think that sounded good. Wow. Now look at them get a dose of reality from the judges. That must be humiliating. But this person still really believes they were great. The next Michael Jackson / Madonna...huh? Wow."

So yeah, I watch American Idol. Fuck you, okay?

So I went to see this movie tonight. Walking into the theater lobby, we were both wondering: has society lost all common decency?

I'm talking about the movie "Seed of Chucky," tastelessly named, and the large cardboard promos that featured the slogan "Fear the Second Coming." And on top of that, concession stand workers actually had to wear promotional pins that said "Get a Load of Chucky." Ugh. It must've been demeaning to those poor people.

And another thing. We were about to leave the concession stand to go into the movie when this guy, who looked like some type of handyman, literally popped his head up from under the counter, looked at our pretzels, then looked at me and said "Say, you gonna eat all that by yourself?" His rude remark prompted me to lean forward and respond rather loudly: "Do you see two of us standing here??" I don't think I've ever said anything that rude to a stranger, and certainly not in a place of business. But I asked my friend later and he confirmed that yeah, the guy was out of line.

(The employee turned out to be a nice guy, anyway. Just a bit uncouth. Before we went into our movie, he explained that he can't clean the cheese out of the seat fabric. He hates it when people buy the stuff because they inevitably spill it (or wipe their fingers off on the seats...ugh). Understandable.)

Oh yeah, so we "saw" Saw. I wanted to dislike it. The dialogue in the beginning sucked. And the plot seemed to have the kind of "Final Flashback Fills In Everything That You Couldn't Possibly Have Guessed On Your Own" structure that I abhor. Still, though, this movie grew quickly on me.

First, I have to say that Saw was much better than The Grudge, which was a sporadically frightening movie with no underlying plot to hold everything together. That movie's frights were so obviously added in using post-production gimmicktry that the audience was laughing and jumping at the same time. That "The Grudge" still sits atop the movie charts doesn't give me much hope that screenwriters will be prompted to leave behind the tired old "Don't Go In There" horror device (also known as "Run-Bitch-Run!" in urban theaters).

Saw doesn't evoke any genuine terror in the viewer either. But like Se7en, the movie does a great job of conveying a genuine creepiness, depicting sympathetic characters who must jump through the arbitrary hoops of a deranged killer to save their own lives.

The movie also contains a few agonizingly intense moments of true depravity. I dunno about you, but they sure made my night. Add in some satisfying plot twists interspersed throughout the story, and you've got yourself a keeper.

In the end, the reason revealed for the killings is stupid, a throwaway line at best. But who said horror movies were about reason? Go see it.

This movie isn't even worth a review. Gothika was one of the worst I've seen in a long time, especially starring a respected actress. And the ending was so... fucking...stupid.

About 95% of the way through I Stand Alone, the movie stops. The screen flashes red and states "WARNING: You have 30 seconds to leave this screening."

I didn't stop the movie. I kept watching. That's why I no longer find the film's cover unsettling.

You see, the scene depicted on the movie cover happens even later in the film, after the part viewers are warned about. And when the cover scene finally occurs, the viewer wants it to happen, realizing that it is, in fact, the only measure of mercy to be afforded by the filmmakers, and the last opportunity to ease the viewer's own freshly scarred conscience.

The suicide scene is the best part of this movie.

And with that, here is the philosophy of life as espoused by the main character:

A life is like a tunnel. And to each his own little tunnel. But at the end of the tunnel, there's not even light. Yep. Nothing. Even memory goes before the end. Old folks know that. A little life, a little savings, a little retirement. And then a little grave. And all of it for nothing.

It's all useless. Even children. When you're old and poor your kids will throw you in a nursing home to croak alone, in silence. Children don't care. Filial love doesn't exist. It's a myth.



Your mother, you love her as long as she gives you milk. And your father when he lends you money. But when her breasts are all dried up, or when your father's pockets are all empty, the best thing to do is lock them up and let them die before they cost you too much.



That's how it goes, the law of life. Children pretend to be nice only when there's an inheritance. But then the inheritance is a fridge or a TV set, it's not even worth pretending. Strictly the necessary, enough to buy a good conscience.

Phone once a month, shed a few tears when they die and your duty is done. Love, friendship, it's all bullshit. Juvenile illusions to hide the fact that human relations are nothing but cheap business.



Friendship and love suits us, but in a calculating way. Reality is much more venal. You love your mother because she feeds you and stops you from dying. Your friend because he gets you a job that feeds you and stops you from dying. And your fat old lady because she cooks, empties your balls, and gives you kids to care for you when you're old and afraid of dying.

But slap your kid just once and he'll take revenge when you're old. In fact, that slap is exactly what he wants. When he throws you in a rest home, it'll be his excuse to mask the natural disinterest that we all feel toward our sires.

No. That baby they want to trap me with, I don't like him. And I know he'll feel the same.

I Stand Alone bills itself as a film about morality, and it is, in the sense that the film is devoid of any. Its credo: Vivre est un acte egoiste. Living is a selfish act. Survival is a genetic law. Life is, in sum, a series of choices that all boil down to fulfilling either one's own desires or someone else's.

What a dark, nihilistic movie. I never thought that I, of all people, would say this about a film: Do yourself a favor, and don't see it.

Okay, so I was wrong. Wes won the competition on Boy Meets Boy. Brian lost. Franklin is the straight dude, and is indeed shit outta luck. That is, until the other reality TV shows come calling.

I never said I was good at assessing these things.

The consequence of my being wrong is that I lost a bet with Eric Masten. The terms were that the loser must do the following:

3) Leave the post at the top of the home page all day long. (I tried posting something at 11:45 last night to exploit a loophole, but no luck.)

I told Eric I'd have to post in the morning because it would be hard thinking of something nice to say about him. I spent part of the night thinking of what to say, and the rest of the night thinking about issues related to a certain person's impending presidential campaign. The result was that, when I woke up, the sentences came to me quite easily:

Eric Masten is a noted scholar, and also a well-known commentator on issues of great importance to the American people. He is a career public servant, having last served as Supreme Allied Comman-- ...wait a minute, wrong person.

Okay, enough stalling. Here we go...

1. Eric is one heckuva smart guy. He needs to learn how to string those thoughts together into something rational, but hey, baby steps.

2. He's perceptive, too, having beaten me at his own game. See, when Boy Meets Boy came on, he and his friends all put their little collective gay antennae up, and well, they chose the straight guy and I didn't.

3. Eric is very devoted to LGBT causes, as evidenced by his recently rebranding his blog with all kinds of LGBT links. I was at his site a few weeks ago and there was nothing of the sort, but rest assured, he's not the type to act out of a guilty conscience.

4. If you go to his site, you'll see that he's a rather prolific writer. Actually, the posts are so sparse nowadays that finding a new one is akin to winning the lottery. For example, check out this gem.

5. Eric has lots of friends who dash into action to disagree whenever I say something reasonable about gay people.

6. And let's face it, the guy is a stud, plain and simple. He's got many, many partners friends to vouch for it.

7. Along the lines of the previous sentence, Eric is an ambitious Washington intern. You were surprised?

8. Eric can be very witty. It's rare, but it's there, somewhere. If he actually wrote that.

9. The best person to toot Eric's horn is, well, Eric.

And the last one...

10. I could probably count the number of gay people I know (online and offline) on one hand. But Eric is the best of the bunch, a genuine good guy who will make some lucky fellow very happy.

Whew. Sure can't say I phoned that one in. And by the way, Eric, I only said that last thing because I ran out of true stuff to say.

For anyone who's watched this series, let me save you some time:

Wes is the straight dude.

Brian will "win" the competition.

Franklin will be shit outta luck.

It's an intriguing show, really, with the gay guys being "the norm" and the straight guys forced into the closet. A unique and enlightening twist on the usually childish reality TV genre.

But how do I know how it will end tonight? Well, if you caught the last episode, as I did, the indicators were all there. Wes, who seemed the gayest of the three finalists, is straight. He said the word "why" at the end. It wasn't the fact that he said it, but rather, how he said it that blew his cover.

Franklin, the most masculine contestant, is actually gay. One jealous glare, and it was obvious he's playing for keeps.

Brian will win if the chooser, James, is smart. If he's not so smart, he'll choose Wes, the straight guy.

If you see 28 Days Later, be sure to stick around after the credits to watch the film's alternative ending. It's much more in keeping with the movie's dark and pessimistic take on humanity.

The premise:

A virus that locks those infected into a permanent state of killing rage is accidentally released from a British research facility. Carried by animals and humans, the virus is impossible to contain, and spreads across the entire planet. Twenty-eight days later, a small group of survivors are trapped in London, caught in a desperate struggle to protect themselves from the infected. As they attempt to salvage a future from the apocalypse, they find that their most deadly enemy is not the virus, but other survivors.

Think of this film as "Night of the Living Dead meets The Stand meets Lord of the Flies." It's more creepy than scary, but that's just as well since, unlike today's Hollywood horror screamers, this film is actually meant to convey a message.

That message has to do with the callous and inhumane nature in which humans treat each other. Indeed, the real menace in the movie turns out to be mankind's own infectious depravity -- a depravity that, in the end, is not all that different from the scourge of subhuman zombie rage.

Capturing the Friedmans is a spellbinding look at the collapse of an American family. I caught this docu-movie at the local art house and was unexpectedly floored by it.

Arnold Friedman, an award-winning former teacher, lives with his wife of over 30 years and three sons in the small town of Great Neck, New York. The oldest son owns a camera, and as a result, we are treated to several mundane scenes of suburban family life. But there is, beneath the veneer of this seemingly average Jewish family, something much more incendiary.

Arnold Friedman is arrested one day after a kiddie porn magazine is intercepted by postal inspectors. A subsequent search of his home turns up "stacks" of such material in his private office and behind the family piano.

More ominously, investigators discover that Arnold has been teaching a popular computer class to neighborhood kids for years. In the ensuing frenzy, Arnold and his son Jesse are charged with hundreds of counts of sexually abusing students in the classes.

By almost any standard, his would seem to be an open-and-shut case. But as more information is revealed, the more dubious the case becomes.

Prosecutors relayed stories of constant, open sexual abuse among students, yet they never found any physical evidence of abuse either on the children or in the classroom area. Members of the Friedman household said they never observed any abuse.

Interviewed today, some who had leveled the accusations as children said they were coached by parents and police who did not ask what happened, but rather, insisted that they had been abused and demanded to know the method and the frequency with which the acts occurred.

Some former students said the claims of sex games were preposterous, and that no unusual events occurred. Others said they had been hypnotized by investigators and "recovered memories," telling wild tales of group sexual abuse.

This, despite the fact that many children taking the courses were picked up by family members (sometimes unannounced) and never cried or told tales of inappropriate goings on before the kiddie porn charges surfaced. In fact, many of the kids had even reenrolled for the advanced computer course.

In this small town, where the desire to outdo the Joneses is trumped only by the desire to fit in, some parents recalled being pressured by other parents to say their kids were abused. At the height of the frenzy, those who resisted were accused of being in denial.

It is here that one realizes the irony of the film's title. In other child abuse cases, an observer notes, when the family of the accused believes the person is innocent, they "circle the wagons" and vigorously defend him. In this case, that did not happen because the family was so stunned by the revelation of Arnold Friedman's pedophilia. As a result, the mother somewhat ruthlessly "cuts the rock from the canoe," and we watch as the family implodes.

After seeing this film (which is, for now, the only way in which outsiders can assess the situation), it seems to me that objective viewers will leave the theater perturbed that the case against the Friedmans may have been perversion of justice. It is indeed likely that Arnold Friedman engaged in some inappropriate behavior, what with his pornographic computer games and admissions of prior abuse. But the specific charges against him seem more the result of hysteria than his own actions, and the case against his son appears to be completely fraudulent.

(The problem was addressed in a recent New York Times editorial, but the conclusion is wrong, damn wrong, having less to do with the actual film than the writer's own willingness to pervert it for his own liberal agenda. The answer to cases like this one is not to relax sentencing guidelines for genuine abuse cases, but rather, to ensure that law enforcement officers investigating such cases are properly trained to get at the truth.)

Let us examine the problem of Arnold Friedman's pedophilia from the perspective of administering justice. Arnold stood before the jury as an admitted pedophile in nature, but claimed he had not acted in the manner of which he was accused.

In a broader practice, avowed pedophiles often claim their pedophilia is an involuntary sexual orientation, much like heterosexuality or homosexuality.

It would seem to me that presenting such a claim to those sitting on juries and courts would doom the accused regardless of any lack of evidence supporting the accusation.

When confronted with the permanent, unreformable pedophile, even reasonable jurors will be filled with a mixture of indignance, fear and horror. They will be unwilling -- indeed, unable -- to distinguish between predisposition and action.

Thus, the pedophile is, in whole, a monster. Abuse is his nature, his destiny, and he must be, as often as he rises, banished, lest their own children be preyed upon.

Thus was the case with Arnold Friedman, the once-exemplary citizen who, once outed, so horrified the community that he had to be ousted by whatever means. It appears that his son's prosecution was unjust, but in the eyes of the police, the townspeople and, indeed, perhaps Arnold's own wife, it was all the same.

If you decide to waste your money, try not to roll your eyes or sigh out loud as much as I did.

For a movie in which plot expectations are already low, Terminator 3 is surprisingly bad, merely filling in the footnotes of the film's two (great) predecessors. And not only are the main characters disappointingly generic, but the writers just couldn't resist packing Schwartzenegger with worn-out one-liners ("I'm back," "she'll be back," "You're terminated," etc.).

Most offensive, though, are the action sequences, which are excruciatingly dull, with special effects you'd expect from a movie made in, say, 1996.

Terminator 3 is a B-movie, a made-for-cable flick, and it only makes me appreciate seeing The Matrix more. (With that movie, unlike this one, I never felt like yelling "Don't go down there!" or "Don't just stand there, run!")

But it's silly to compare every action movie to The Matrix, and I'm not really bothered by the fact that Terminator 3 doesn't measure up. Rather, I'm irked because part 3 squanders the groundwork laid by its predecessors, muddying a storyline that has a potentially profound message of its own.

If you're bent on seeing big-budget films, do yourself a favor and see The Hulk instead. There, you'll find some semblance of personality and plot amidst all the destruction. Director Jonathan Mostow just doesn't come close to Ang Lee.

Terminator 3 is unimaginative, graceless, plodding, and old, old, old. Never before has the buildup to Armageddon been so boring.

"I wanna shoot you so bad that my dick's hard."

-Ice-T, holding Wesley Snipes at gunpoint. New Jack City (1991)

I'm only seeing The Hulk because Ang Lee directed it. I figured that, with him at the helm, just maybe it'll have some substance beyond the special effects. From a marketing standpoint, actually showing "The Hulk" in the commercials was a major blunder. That's like showing the money shot before a porno scene.

In other, more promising movies...

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (July 2, 2003): I usually find the premise of such movies more interesting than the actual movies (Terminator, Alien, The Matrix). I was really looking forward to this one, until it became clear that it was just another Save-John-Connor episode. The trailer is probably better than the movie.

The Matrix: Revolutions (November 5, 2003): Duh. But I think a prequel (or a series of prequels) would be a great addition. Hopefully we won't have to wait a quarter-century, like Star Wars fans did.

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (December 17, 2003): I'll give 100 bucks to anyone who finds me a Sauron costume before Halloween.

Troy (May 21, 2004): "The Trojan War, as depicted in "The Iliad," the epic Greek poem by Homer." I dunno. This should be an interesting epic.

The Day After Tomorrow (May 28, 2004): "This movie takes a big-budget, special-effects-filled look at what the world would look like if the greenhouse effect and global warming continued at such levels that they resulted in worldwide catastrophe and disaster."

Why do I get the feeling this will be another B-movie like Outbreak and Deep Impact? In any case, it could be rather good, as long as it doesn't turn out to be a heavy-handed environmentalist lecture.

Hellboy (May 28, 2004): "When a Nazi mystical experiment goes awry in 1944, the target of a wizard's spell, the child of Satan, Hellboy, is wrenched from his home, and adopted by the U.S. agents who intercept his arrival. Raised as a force of good, Hellboy grows up to be a full-fledged demon in the form of a man, complete with fierce red skin, a tail, a giant armored glove, and two large circles where his horns should be (if they ever grow back, Hellboy is quick to break them off)."

This movie sets off my B-movie alert, but we'll see.

I, Robot (July 16, 2004): "Set in a far future Earth (2050 A.D.) where robots are common assistants and workers for their human owners, this is the story of "robotophobic" police Detective Del Spooner's (Smith) investigation into the murder of Dr. Miles Hogenmiller, who works at U.S. Robotics, in which a robot, Sonny (Tudyk), appears to be implicated, even though that would mean the robot had violated the Laws of Robotics, which is apparently impossible. It seems impossible because... if robots can break those laws, there's nothing to stop them from taking over the world, as humans have grown to become completely dependent upon their robots. Or maybe... they already have?"

Sounds good, but if Will Smith is starring, then it can only be so good.

Alexander the Great (November, 2004): Oliver Stone!

Alien 5 (In Development): There isn't even a script yet, but I love the series. Maybe in this one the marines invade the Alien planet (or vice-versa)? With this series, as well as Terminator, depicting the broader story seems a lot more compelling than the sort of confined episodes we've seen so far. However, I realize the studios would much rather milk the franchise with more They're-After-Ripley/John Connor-Again episodes.

Van Helsing (May 7, 2004): "Set in the late 19th century, monster hunter Dr. Abraham Van Helsing is summoned to a mysterious land in East Europe to vanquish evil forces... evil forces with names like Count Dracula, the Wolf Man, and Frankenstein's Monster."

Eh. The crossing of franchises is titilating, much like Alien Vs Predator and Freddy Vs Jason (ugh).

Star Wars, Episode III (May 25, 2005): Pfft. The only people who are eagerly awaiting this movie are the Lucas-obsessed losers who somehow convinced themselves that the first two prequels were good.

Superman (Summer 2005): Please. We already have a new Superman, and his name is Neo.

Terminator 4 (In Development): It should be better than Terminator 3, as by this point there should be a full-fledged battle between the humans and the machines. A prequel would be more interesting, but Terminator 3 will ineptly cover that ground.

I'm sure there are better, more obscure movies coming out, but they typically don't get any buzz in advance. If I missed anything particularly interesting, lemme know.

I'm sure everyone and his mother are posting their banal and overlong reaction pieces today, so I'll keep it simple:

1) I wish the action in the beginning had been story-driven rather than character-driven. Everything seemed somewhat meaningless until The Oracle provided context.

2) The Matrix is the first mainstream movie in a long time to take its audiences seriously and include long stretches of philosophical dialogue. This remains the most compelling aspect of the trilogy. Hence #1.

3) The fight scenes, though still innovative, have become laborious and repetitive. Unlike the first movie, the fight scenes in this one seemed to be more of a special effects display with no dramatic suspense.

4) My head hurt afterward. So much to think about.

Slate has an excellent review, however.

"When a presidential candidate dies unexpectedly in the middle of the campaign, the party picks an unlikely candidate, Washington, D.C. alderman Mays Gilliam (Chris Rock), as his replacement."

Eh. I wasted an interminable 2 hours watching this witless, unoriginal and unfunny movie. It was a complete snore, except for parts when Bernie Mac onscreen.

This type of premise always has the potential for tons of delicious satrical raunch. But seeing as though they bypassed most of the humor in favor of campy jokes and obligatory romantic scenes, they could have at least added more T & A to keep people interested.

I wanted to walk out after 20 minutes. Should've. Damn.

I wish The Matrix and LOTR would just open already. Maybe my friend can send me advance copies from China...

Looooved it. Black comedy + weird relationships = good stuff.

Jim Carrey is a comic genius.

Also recommended viewing: The Talented Mr. Ripley.

Need to see: One Hour Photo and Death to Smoochy. I'm behind on my Robin Williams, but I did see him in Insomnia.

That is all.