… actually, on second thought, yeah she does.

In searching for some constructive criticism of the site from my friends and family, I was given an interesting observational note. That note being that my calling Renee Zellweger Bitch Face was gratuitously mean. Granted this was just an example of the type of humor I am occasionally known for, and not an indictment of my writing style as a whole, but this criticism warrants mentioning. When someone says they found this or that funny, or they didn’t care for this or that piece, I can usually just brush that aside. There will always be haters, and hopefully, always be lovers. But this was about something deeper than my riffing on the wonders of Disneyland. This was an appeal to my entire celebrity observing mentality. So I’m gonna try to examine the claim of whether or not insulting a celebrity so cheaply is a mean thing to do.

First off, the context… I was never implying that Renee was a bitch, I was merely pointing out that when she takes pictures she has a tendency to look bitchy. The picture I ran with that piece helps to support my argument. Let it be known that I don’t know Renee personally, and can make no claims to her character whatsoever (though I would bet my thoughts aren’t entirely too far from reality). I don’t know any celebrities personally, and if I did, I still wouldn’t comment on their character. Because, yes, THAT is mean. But I argue that attacking a celebrity, or any other highly public figure, is completely fair game.

If I wrote in my blog that my next door neighbor is a skank whore that would be mean because my readers would have no frame of reference for who this person is, and therefore intuit that I was probably right. Framing someone’s fresh opinion of a topic is not a good thing. People should be allowed to form their own opinions. However, a public figure has a predisposed subjectivity about them. Further, a celebrity, once they reach the echelon of being a “star” crafts their own public image, and then proceeds to sell us that image, and not themselves as individuals. I would imagine there is more to Paris Hilton that sex tapes and sidekicks, but I wouldn’t know because she is too busy selling us the image of her being a young, sexy starlet. Again, I’m sure Renee Zellweger takes a lovely personal photo, but inevitably, when the paparazzi have their lenses on her, all her features go bitter.

This belief is only limited to well-known public figures, the people who grace the covers of magazines and create buzz simply by walking down the street, or buying a cup of coffee. If I slammed William H. Macy for being a bad father, I would get railed on, and rightly so. Though he is a well-known actor, he does not actively pursue fame the way a Lindsay Lohan does, and thus allows his performances to determine how the audience feels about him. However, if I rip on Kevin Federline people would laugh because he has been in the public eye and creating this image of himself as a bad father. So the theory goes that it’s ok for me to rip Britney and Kevin, but not someone like William H. Macy. Going off that assessment then, public admonishment is directly related to the respect a person garners by the way they handle themselves in the light of the media.

Stars carry baggage, whereas regular people or professionals just carry themselves. This is why it is ok to slam stars. The baggage they carry is only a weight because they want it to be. If Paris wanted to be taken seriously as a performer then she wouldn’t make sex tapes, or do reality shows, or be at clubs with Tara Reid till 2am, she would be at home working on her acting skills.

I mean look, a writer only has to work with what’s placed in front of him. I can’t make things up out of the blue (that’s the Enquirer’s job). All I’m doing is commenting on the perceptions and developments that the media has stirred up (with the help of stars and their publicist’s, I might add). If Lindsay never got freakishly skinny, I would never think that she did drugs. Comparatively, I don’t even know what Bill Macy does with his time, so I have no right to speculate. And nor would I, because I respect his work and his work ethic, and would never wish a scandal on him.

Celebrities create an image for themselves; it helps to brand their name in an already crowded marketplace. That image takes over their essence as a person and becomes the thing we think about when we read their name or see their face. I’m not commenting on Renee Zellweger the person, I’m commenting on the idea of Renee Zellweger as given to me by years of fawning People Magazine cover stories and bogus US Weekly rumors.

This is why it is so hard for celebrities to change their image, for the first time we are asked to remember their name for something beyond their talent, we associate them with whatever that first story is. And the only way to alter that first perception is by wildly diverting from it, to the point where your relationship with the public becomes distorted and dishonest. For example, a year ago everyone is in love with the winsome, wholesome, full-figured Lindsay Lohan. Now, she’s a child star gone wrong, a spoiled, anorexic party-goer who couldn’t engender good will from her own father, let alone the American public. She will never be a respect actress, because she chose to be a celebrity instead. That choice she made is also a choice to allow her image to be attacked by anyone and everyone that may have an opinion. Because again, we are not attacking her character, but instead the image she tries so hard to cultivate. Once you create the shell of your armor, you give free reign to the press and public to try and pierce that armor. That’s the concession you give for the right to be famous.

The other part of the observation was the idea that I may potentially be risking my future by bashing celebrities that I may one day want to work with. That’s fair, but I’m not gonna censor myself now, just due to the off-chance that one day Renee Zellweger picks me to be her love interest, or to write her next movie. I’m but one of hundreds of writers that pick her apart on a daily basis. And the irony is I like her work. I don’t like her as a celebrity, but I appreciate her as an actress. But if she or Paris or La Lohan wants to black ball me because I commented on something they ACTUALLY did, well then heck, that’s an opportunity that just won’t be knocking on my door.

Celebrities are fair game. Period. And anybody that tells you otherwise is just trying to suck at the teat of the Hollywood Press Machine. I would be selling myself and my writing short by pulling any punches. I’m a humorist, and I refuse to suppress my humor by giving a pass to someone merely because they have been in a movie. If society wants me to consider these people my idols, then they need to also allow me to choose how I worship them. Some I will bow down to, and others I will try to demolish. That’s the way it goes with idols. If they’re asking for it, they’re gonna get it.

Is it a little cheap sometimes? Sure, I’ll give you that. Is it possibly beneath me to comment on whether or not Renee Zellweger has a bitchy face? Yeah, probably. But in the end, yes I’m trying to make you think, but mostly I’m just trying to make you laugh. To keep you entertained. This isn’t 60 Minutes, it’s an entertainment humor blog. People come here to read celebrities getting trashed. When society grows up and stops idolizing celebrities, when my audience grows up and stops wanting to read about it, then I promise I’ll stopping writing about it.

But until then… Lindsay Lohan is a coke whore, Paris Hilton is a slut, and Renee Zellweger has a Bitch Face. And there it is.

Bangarang, Hollywood Press Machine Teat!

I had the day off yesterday. Now this is a truly wondrous thing in its own right, as I get to see the weekday sun about as often as my pale, Casper-white backside. But even better than the mere fact that I didn’t go to work, was where I ended up going instead. The Lady and I decided to go to the Zoo; we love the animals and I wanted to get my hands on those awesome colored-plastic moldings that my older brother and I used to collect as kids. I got off the freeway (curse the 5) and was making my way past Train Town when I suddenly had the urge to stop the car. You see, I had been having an unstoppable craving for steak gumbo. And the ONLY place to have steak gumbo in Southern California is at The Blue Bayou, which is located in the French Quarter, which is located smack dab in the heart of the happiest place on Earth. So I turned around, got back on the freeway, and headed south.

We were going to Disneyland!

I’m about to barrage you with the details of my day, and it will probably be tedious for most of you, so let me sum it up thusly: Disneyland rules. Nothing brings the kid out of me faster than a set of black Mickey Mouse ears (except maybe one of those Goofy hats with the ears that flop over). The Lady and I spent eight glorious hours in the Magic Kingdom, and a day later I still have a smile on my face. Here’s how it went down…

If you’re gonna go to a theme park, go during the week. The crowds are smaller, the park is cleaner, the lines are infinitely quicker and the people (customers and employees) are much nicer and more patient. Overall, it’s a just a better theme park experience.

Disneyland has revolutionized itself and the city around it, and has somehow become this mystical land of complete convenience. Immediately after exiting you are offered an express bridge straight to the parking garage, no street lights needed. My mighty Corolla touched not once inch of Anaheim street soil. And let’s talk about the parking garage. It used to be that Disneyland had this serious of interminably large parking areas, which were almost completely unnavigable, and you always forgot where you parked. Even if you knew you had parked in Dumbo 4 that only narrows it down to about 47 rows of cars. Then you had to walk the entire length of the parking lot in order to catch the tram. Now, you go into this self-contained parking garage, the attendant gives you a paper map of the garage, where you can write down your specific spot (in case you forgot to bring paper, or have a terrible memory), then 14 parking attendants wave you to a specific spot in the garage. It was fantastic. The whole parking procedure took five minutes. We took one escalator down to the ground, and the tram was there waiting for us. Man alive, does Disney knows how to park people!

So the tram takes us to the Disney centerpoint, where to our left is the park, to our right is Downtown Disney (think Universal CityWalk but nicer), and straight ahead is the inferior California Adventure theme park. Since we’re gonna do Downtown last, and we’re thankfully gonna skip California Adventure, we opt to stick with the traditional Disneyland. We breeze through ticketing, grab our cool map, and walk in and sit in front of the flowered Mickey Mouse face lawn to plan our strategy. I want to do Tomorrowland last (with Space Mountain as the climax to the day), so we decide to go left-to-right and start in Adventureland and begin our day with what is easily my favorite ride, The Jungle Cruise.

Before I begin, let me just give a shout out to the brain trust at the park: great job on all the recent changes in modernizing the park. I went the whole day without ever needed to use cash, and that may have been the highlight of the day. Well played, Disneyland.

We put blinders on through Main Street, for if I see souvenirs this early in the day, I may be too broke to buy dinner (and also I plan to splurge on a Jungle Cruise attraction poster and I don’t want to carry that around all day). We veer left, enter a land of African culture, and quite literally walk on the Jungle Cruise. I’ve done this ride so much that I’m cracking waterfall jokes while we’re still boarding. Seriously, I could have been the guy on the microphone, I know the script THAT well. The cruise was great, and they even added a new bit, the jumping piranha, which totally made The Lady jump in fright. The boat operator told a few of the staples, not all of my favorites, but still succeeded in cracking me up. Already a happy camper, we hopped over to the Indiana Jones ride (one I’m not too fond of), where the wait was only ten minutes, and was mostly taken up by the time it actually takes to walk through the line to the ride.

Top 5 Jungle Cruise Jokes

1. We’ve got a dock on the right, and a dock on the left. We like to call it… a paradox.

2. Wave goodbye to the people in line, you’ll never see them again.

3. Look to your left, it’s the back of a waterfall. There something you don’t see everyday… but I do.

4. Aww, look at those lions, watching over that sleeping zebra. So sweet.

5. Thank you for riding the Jungle Cruise. If you had a good time, my name is Ron. And if you didn’t, my name is Dave.

After Indy we were hungry, which meant only one thing: steak gumbo. We booked it over to the French Quarter, stopping once to show The Lady the infamous Club 33. Walking past Pirates, who did we run into? None other than Timmy and Alyse, my fellow Grunt Talkers and two of my favorite people on the planet. I’m surprised, but not too surprised, as they have season passes and most days its even money they’re at the park. We decide to lunch it together, so I got to have my best friend, my best girl and the best steak gumbo in a bread bowl, west of Bourbon Street, all at the same time. At this point, The Jay = HAPPY.

We join Tim and Alyse for Pirates, and I forget just how long that ride is. So long, in fact, that I fall asleep. It’s still a cool ride, with great old-school animatronics, but Disney should definitely think about either speeding it up or adding some new stuff. After the ride, we check Haunted Mansion, but it’s closed while they revamp it for Halloween. I’m bummed because it means I don’t get too make out with The Lady in the mirror room (a Disney couples tradition). Our foursome splits up, because they wanna hit Buzz Lightyear, and we want Great Thunder Railroad.

A little drag-ass after the food, and a little groggy from the Pirates nap, we lounge through Critter Country stopping to ride Winnie the Pooh and Great Thunder, and then motor into Fantasyland. Fantasyland rules, and we hit up Pinocchio, the Carousel, the Teacups (where the Lady promptly gets sick and yells at me for twisting the tea cup too much), and opt to skip Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride (which makes me a bit sad). She’s feeling competitive, so we book it too Tomorrowland and make way to Autopia. This is such an old-school favorite that I’m giddy at the thought of bumping her car, while going a speedy 3 mph. She decides to take the car in front of me, so I know the bumping is imminent. And it happens. And it rules.

After Autopia, I take some time to look forlornly at what used to be the Submarine Voyage ride. Disney is retooling it to be a Finding Nemo ride, which is a good idea, but I’m gonna miss the giant squid and kick ass multi-colored coral. Matterhorn’s line is a mile long, so we vow to come back later, and instead speed up the climax and go straight to the re-imagined Space Mountain. We move quickly through the line, hop aboard and scream our heads off. They did a great job on the ride; it does not disappoint. Still high off the Space, we hit the decidedly dated Star Tours “ride”. The line is slow, but I’m over-jazzed from Space Mountain, and on a sugar high from a Chocolate and Caramel marshmallow-piece of heaven I got in Adventureland after actively avoiding the debacle that is Splash Mountain, so I don’t mind the wait too much. Star Tours is still pretty good, but for that type of ride I prefer Back to the Future at Universal. I wonder why they didn’t update the attraction for the prequels. Having Jar Jar as the pilot would have added a fun sense of disaster. Plus, I would get to rip Lucas for twenty minutes straight. Always good times.

Still waiting on Matterhorn to die down, we hit the brand new Buzz Lightyear ride, where you get to spin in this little ship and fire lasers at targets. This ride rules! You compete with the person next to you, and your ship tallies the scores. The spinning is an awesome and perfectly executed device, it’s like being in a souped up Afterburner arcade game. Best yet, when you finish, they have these computer monitors where you can see the picture taken of you during the ride, then e-mail it to yourself for free! We went on the ride twice just to get a second free picture! I’m so excited, I can’t stop using exclamation points! Whammy!

High from Buzz, we finally ride Matterhorn, and enjoy it so much we go again. The Lady is now dizzy and overloaded, and I’m completely satisfied. So we go be tourists and take some pictures in front of The Castle and also in front of the Little Mermaid fountain. We dance on Main Street while a Jazz Band kicks one out, then head straight for the souvenirs. Ten minutes later I’m like the Great Cornholio, and The Lady has to steal my credit card and drag me out with the promise that I can get all my souvenirs at the great World of Disney store at Downtown Disney, before I go nuts and inadvertently raise my interest rate to 50%. So I calm down, we watch a few black and white Mickey cartoons in the little theater where the Hall of Presidents used to be, then decide to call it a day.

Final Talley Time in the Park: 5 ½ hours. Total # of Rides: 15 Average wait time: 9 minutes.
The Jay: Thrilled.

We walk over to Downtown Disney, listen to a few mediocre street performers, get nauseous walking past Sephora, grub at Cantina Joe’s, then hit the World of Disney store, where I score The Jungle Cruise attraction poster I wanted so badly, as well as a totally rad ultra-detailed hand-drawing of the park for only five bucks! The Lady scores an adorable plush Eeore doll with a detachable tail. We pay for our Disney booty (me only slightly upset that The Jungle Book DVD is still on moratorium), and head back to the Tram. We get back on the perilous Interstate 5 and wave goodbye to the Magic Kingdom.

Thinking back over the day, I couldn’t help but revel in the fact that the park was so easily able to catapult me back into the mindset of a five year old. I don’t what it is… maybe nostalgia. But the emotions that Disney brings out in me are almost primal. So happy does this entity makes me that whether it be through their movies, or their characters, the rides or the shows, or maybe just the idea of Disneyland itself, I can trigger memories from my childhood in a heartbeat.

I spent my tenth birthday at Disneyland, and stayed overnight at the neighboring resort. To this day I can remember Goofy bringing me a birthday cake for breakfast and taking a picture with me. I can remember the fireworks that I watched from the balcony of the hotel room, my eyes wide open at a world that was only beginning to offer itself to me.

I spent my high school graduation night at Disney, walking in stunned awe at my accomplishment, and sharing that experience with thousands of other teens whose lives would never be the same the next day. I went to sleep that night, the way I did when I was ten, and again last night, as if all was right in the world, for Disneyland had made it all better.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go frame my new Jungle Cruise poster and hum the lyrics to A Whole New World.

Thank you for reading, if you liked this column, my name is The Jay. And if you thought it was boring, well then my name is A-Train.

Bangarang, Magic Kingdom!

It’s a slow news day. When I check my ten or so movie, TV and celebrity news sites and the biggest story is the wedding of Ashton and Demi, you know you’re having a hangover-Monday. Apparently, absolutely no one in Hollywood decided to do any work today. Which sucks, because now whose choices can I make fun of?

Well since the world is boring on this not-Manic Monday, I thought I would take care of some old and new business and just mark down some thoughts that have been going through my head lately. And sprinkled in, all the “who cares?” celeb news from recent weeks. Back tomorrow with, hopefully, something of any some interest to somebody.

• I hosted/mediated/ led the fiasco of a podcast last night. It’s a show called Grunt Talk put together by some old Valley Knight friends of mine. The show is about the people in the entertainment industry who are actually working. In other words, the grunts on their way up, doing the work of the lazy, talentless hacks that get to make the decisions. Very cool stuff. The seven of us kicked in my buddy Drew’s recording studio, eating some Earl’s (the best donuts in the Valley!) and yabbering about the industry. The show was our pseudo pilot, and for a first episode, it went surprisingly well. And long. We talked for almost an hour more than we thought we would, which is great, because we now know for a certainty that we have content to spare and chemistry to burn. We talked about upcoming movie and DVD releases, and spoke a bit about whom each of us were and about what’s been on our mind lately. The main topic of the show was actually the piece I wrote on Friday about the question of what makes a movie geek these days. Put seven geeks in a room together, talking about being geeks, yeah, it’s safe to say we had too much to say on that topic. But the bottom line came down to this: the word “geek” has been captured and capitalized by society. The idea of actually being a geek, though, stands more in line with your passion. The fact that movies make me the person I am today is what makes me a movie geek, despite what writers, directors, actors and movies that I like or dislike.

It looks like we’re gonna be busting the Grunt Talk every couple weeks, so check HERE to learn the “who, what, where and why” of our show.

• So according to the Imdb, Lindsay Lohan gave an interview where she stated that she realized she has gotten crazy thin and is gaining weight again because she wants to be a better role model for teens. This is all just a nice way of saying “Cocaine’s a hell of a drug”.

• A weekend where I don’t get to go the movies at least once is not a real weekend. It’s just two days in a row that I wasted on unnecessary crap.

• The Lost season two premiere satisfied my need to have the show back, took away the bitter flavor of the disappointing season one finale, but ultimately was not the hour of television I needed to buy my first class seat on the Lost bandwagon. Something tells me this show is going off its rails by February. Mark my words.

• There’s just nothing like having a craving to play Madden for five straight hours, then actually getting the opportunity to do just that. I felt like I was back in college. Go UCSB!

• Kirsten Dunst has a big, ugly mouth.

• So I post my Fiona Apple piece on Wednesday, and lo and behold, two days later EW arrives in my mailbox, with none other than the Crazy Fruit gracing the cover. I keep telling you people, The Jay is ahead of his time.

• I can’t believe that Jodie Foster doesn’t have better things to do than star in Flightplan.

• Moreover, I can’t believe AMERICA had nothing better to do than spend $10 bucks on Flightplan.

QUICK TV ROUND-UP

Invasion – I could barely pay attention, and it had nothing to do with the twenty minute long hurricane scene that opened the show. I’m sure over the course of the season that cool things will spring out of this ABC drama hour, I just won’t be there to see it.

Head Cases – Saw it. Hated it. Glad it’s gone. Won’t miss it.

Everybody Hates Chris – Funny show, without a doubt. I give it two season’s tops. UPN has no business making this show a hit, and moreover, Chris Rock can do better than UPN.

My Name is Earl – This is a good show, not great, and definitely not worthy of the extreme guerilla marketing campaign that NBC is saturating the LA area with. All that aside, it’s just plain nice to see Jason Lee on TV every week.

BACK TO BUSINESS…

• I just went out to lunch where it began raining, yet it was eighty degrees outside and the sun was still shining. Only in L.A.

• Was there really anything surprising about The Apprentice: Martha Stewart bombing so spectacularly? I have never cared about this woman ever, and I know I’m not alone. I can’t believe she’s taking up an hour of good TV time. This is why NBC is now a fourth place network. It has nothing to do with Joey, which is doing just fine.

• Quick shout out to my home girl Gail Bianchi, who is hitting the road for a year to play Peter Pan in a national stage tour. I’m so proud of her, and hope the show comes to LA so I can see her do her thing. Also, since she had to get rid of most of her stuff, The Jay was able to get his grubby claws on a wicked new desk, a sweet lamp, a cool poster and portable book shelf. Traveling actors rule!

• In the great Subway vs. Quizno’s debate, round five goes to Quizno’s with their excellent Chicken Milano. Mmm, sun-dried tomato spread…

• At this point it’s safe to say that the death of the six-pack for The Jay was caused by Snackwell’s fat free chocolate cookies.

• Jenna Jameson is moving into mainstream movies. Great, just what we need, another porn star turning their back on their fans.

• The Hollywood Publicity Machine just called the number of some hooker from Laguna Beach. I guess I should start watching that show. The girl is cute, I guess, but do we really need another reality star gracing the covers of Maxim and FHM. It’s just taking time away from stars that really deserve it, like Alyssa Milano and Carmen Electra.

• I’ve now reached the point where I don’t feel sorry for Jennifer Aniston anymore. Memo to Jen: It’s been nine months, he’s moved on, we’ve moved on, hell, even US Magazine has moved on. So stop getting trashed on Oprah and start dating again.

• Finally, I checked my stats and it seems that people are actually showing up to the site and reading the content, which totally rules. But I’m a little disappointed that there aren’t more comments. Dude, I know my friends are reading this. Don’t think I’m not marking down which of you don’t comment, and totally signing you up to several hardcore gay porn sites. And yes, A-Train, this most definitely means you.

Bangarang, Boring Monday!

I am a geek. That’s a powerful statement, one that should not be taken lightly, but instead, examined more carefully. After years of research and study, I’ve concluded that there are varying levels of geekery, varying hierarchies of geek allegiance, and a wide ranging point scale-style level of geekdom.

Traditionally, when you say you are a geek people assume one of a few things:

1. Lord of the Rings Fanatic

2. Star Wars freak

3. Computer Nerd

4. He’s a liar, and is really just trying to play off the trend that geeks are the new hot, and he has absolutely no clue that Quentin Tarantino directed one scene from Sin City, that E.T. was once called A Boy’s Life, and that Spike Jonze was the bad dancer from that Fatboy Slim music video, among all the other arcane bits of useless trivia that clog the minds of all geeks worldwide.

So in essence, that is society’s understanding of what it is to be a geek. It’s vague, it’s misinformed, and more importantly, it’s led to this odd emergence of geek chic, geek cool, and other avenues that bring misguided praise to a subset of people. Some how over time, whether it be from a few movie, music and arts geeks gaining fame and using it to advance our cause, or by a general takeover of influential jobs by our elite, Geeks have come to rule the world. Nerds are boring, socially retarded computer losers, dweebs are an offshoot from bad 80’s teen comedies and the only semblance of “spazz” that we currently encounter is from David Spade (and possibly a bit from Adam Brody). No, it truly is a geek’s world. And saying you are a geek is a bold statement fraught with peril, as, and this is the main lesson of today’s post, not all geeks are created equal.

Case in point, me. Just by looking at me you wouldn’t assume I was one. But as soon as you hear me speak, check out my extensive DVD collection, or hear me endlessly quote lines from countless movies you’ve never seen or heard of, you know it to be true. Does that mean I love the same things as every other geek, and despise what they despise? No, it doesn’t. So why make the generalization? Again, not all geeks are created equal. And here’s why…

This is me, the movie geek:

I have a degree in Film Studies. I have spent countless hours on the Imdb, honing my skills as a master Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon champion. I’ve watched mostly all of the “great” movies. I have read important film books. I have made my life about film. Heck, this blog is essentially an excuse to rail on bad cinema. So you can call me a movie geek. EXCEPT… I really don’t care about the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I recognize the quality of the flicks, but mostly when they come on I just fall asleep. I love me some Star Wars, even stood in line for all the prequels, but I don’t have any memorabilia, action figures or costumes. I can’t sit through movies made before 1978. I Netflix movies like First Daughter, Wicker Park, Along Came Polly, and other denizens of Crappy Movie Land. And these days I care more about celebrities than I do about filmmakers. So what kind of movie geek does that make me?

I am a geek, but with stipulations, I guess. For instance, I can use a computer, am somewhat literate, but I couldn’t tell you shit about CSS, RSS, or XHTML, and I can barely operate my copy of Adobe Photoshop. I love Bill Simmons, but I can’t stand Chuck Klosterman. I like alternative music along with my pop, but I think most of what Seth Cohen recommends is a bunch of sad, depressing, boring, wussy crap. I love Jerry Maguire and Say Anything but I don’t really care for Almost Famous. I love PC’s.

I don’t watch The Sopranos, Six Feet Under or Deadwood, but I never miss an episode of Entourage. I will happily go to an Arclight screening of The Last Boyscout with a Q and A by Shane Black, but I wouldn’t go near a screening of The French Connection with a Q and A by William Friedkin. I think Michael Chabon is overrated and boring. I think the Spider-Man movies are inferior to the X-Men movies. I love Meet Joe Black, but barely enjoy Fight Club. I think Kevin Smith is a better director than he thinks. I think Quentin Tarantino is a worse writer than he and we all think. I miss Jimmy Fallon on Weekend Update. I don’t miss The Chappelle Show (he’s more fun crazy).

I own more than one Britney Spears album. I own no Beatles albums (though I do like their music). If given the option, I will choose to watch a romantic comedy over a potential Oscar-movie. I liked Jim Carrey better before he got serious. I like Ben Affleck more than Matt Damon. I like Stallone more than Scwarzenegger. I think Will Ferrell needs to take some time off.

I like things neat. I like things clean. I don’t like to be touched. I like cheap food, mass amounts of jelly beans and prefer wine over beer. I think the Blue Icee flavor is a joke. I don’t like popcorn all that much. I think Mel Gibson was right for making Passion of the Christ, but wrong for how he went about selling it. I liked The Killers more when no one else liked them but me. I have seen every Pauly Shore movie. The Goonies is a little bit boring, and a lot of bit dated. I prefer Corey Haim.

I hated Lost in Translation. I don’t like Scarlet Johansson. I hated hated HATED Million Dollar Baby! I tear up at the end of Jerry Maguire, but I hate Renee Zellweger. You can’t make me watch another Woody Allen movie. Nicole Kidman is overexposed and under talented. Musicals are stupid. CSI is boring. Tim Burton is rubbish.

And I don’t like going to the movies anymore.

But if you think I don’t count myself as a real, old school fashion movie geek, then you is dead wrong. Because, and there’s really no getting around this, a geek is someone who likes something just a little bit too much. I have been in love with film since I was thirteen. I have broken up with girls because of movies. I have gained friends because of the movies. I have an education because I love movies. My extreme love for cinema is what makes me the person I am today. And that is the only real qualifier for calling someone a geek. Forget the likes and dislikes, the passion and the derision, if you define yourself by movies, music, video games, theater, or anything creative or artistic, than you are a geek. Plain and simple.

And if that makes you cool, or popular, or “hot”, well then, so be it.

Bangarang, Geek Dweeb or Spaz!

I love movie posters. Count me firmly in the camp that believe that movie posters can be, and sometimes are, art. From Hitchcock’s Vertigo, to Spielberg’s Jaws, even to the recent Napolean Dynamite, a good one sheet can transcend marketing needs and become the iconic image of a generation. I make sure I see every poster for every movie that gets released. It’s become more than a hobby for me, grading the posters, deciding which ones might become more famous than the movie they’re promoting (The 40 Year Old Virgin is fast becoming the perfect example of this). So I’m bringing my hobby online. Every so often I’ll post a few new movie posters, and critique the hell out of them. Here’s the first of many Poster Reviews to come.

Derailed - A no frills, “here are our stars” approach. It doesn’t tell you anything about the movie, nor does it get you excited. Very ho hum. Also, if you have Jennifer Aniston in your movie, why would you dress her down like that? I thought she was playing a sexpot in this movie, so why is she so covered up and demure? Expect a more provocative poster was near the film’s release.

Grade: C

Fun With Dick And Jane - Now this is more like it. You still don’t really know what the movie is about, but you know it’s gonna be funny. Jim Carrey has a great history of movie poster images, with The Truman Show’s pictograph being the best example. This is an actor that knows how to sell himself, and does a great job of changing looks, but not changing the perception of what you’re gonna get from his movies. A great poster.

Grade: A-

Get Rich Or Die Tryin’ - It took me a couple different looks at this poster before I realized he was holding a baby. I like the image; it screams “ICONIC”, and very nearly gets there. The 8 Mile poster was probably better than this, but the image does a great job of selling the 50 Cent persona, and enticing you into giving this film a try.

Grade: B

Just Friends - This is an absolute slam dunk. You know everything you need to known about the movie, and the poster is funny as hell. Just seeing Ryan Reynolds in a fat suit makes you smile. Great tagline too. (Bonus trivia: The alternate title for this film was “Friends Without Benefits”. Brilliant.)

Grade: A

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - Good color, good set-up, not so sure they pulled it off. This is a very tricky film to market, and that first cartoony-looking poster was a joke. I think this is the type of film where you either want to see it or not, regardless of the marketing campaign. There’s probably a great poster for this film somewhere, but it’s not here.

Grade: C+

North Country - Why does Charlize have to go uggo to get respect? This is definitely a case of the star’s looks hurting her celebrity. I look at this poster and just shrug, knowing I’m not gonna get to stare at her beauty for two hours. It’s depressing. This is a prestige image, and it is successful in selling that the film is a potential Oscar candidate. But man alive is it depressing.

Grade: B-

Syrianna - We can all agree that this poster is a great change of pace from all the insipid big head posters that most studio films choose to go with. I like the change of pace but can’t help feeling like it’s a manipulation. If a film wants to be seen as edgy and defiant, they release a poster that looks like this. I will reserve judgement until I see if this is the final poster or just a teaser. If it’s a teaser and the final is more conventional, than I’m gonna spit on this poster. If they stick with this the whole way through (which would seriously hurt them at the box office), then I’ll come back and bump the grade. As it is, it’s still not as good as the poster for Clooney’s other movie, Goodnight and Good Luck.

Grade: B

Bangarang, Movie Posters!

Ad: