Last year we went to some restaurant downtown followed by a late night crawling around some maze at City Museum in the dark (I passed on that last part. I’m all for a good meal, not so much for fun). This year she wanted two celebrations — dinner and a night of laser tag/mini golf/arcade games followed next weekend by a chili cook-off. At this rate some day we’ll be celebrating the Year of Stevie’s Birthday.

Oh well, she deserves it.

So it was that last night I wound up driving to Chesterfield Valley for dinner at the Fox and Hound. Despite the fact that we both live in St. Charles, home to many fine restaurants, Stevie insists on dragging me out of my comfort zone. It didn’t help that there was actual road work being performed at 6 p.m. on a Saturday night on Highway 40, snarling traffic on a road that is always busy without workers closing off lanes.  Sigh.

Still, we were only a few minutes late and arrived at the same time as Stevie. The Hibbs were waiting for us. We needed a table for 15 and we had not made reservations and it was 6 p.m. on a Saturday so I’m thinking we’re screwed but we were able to get immediate seating in a back room where we pulled together six small tables that nicely accommodated the entire group. Take that, LouEllen’s. Maybe we should have the ECHD there next year.

We were joined by Pokin, the Peines, the Finleys and some friends of Stevie’s whose names I don’t remember. The menu featured both chicken strips and fish and chips, so it was the perfect venue for feeding The Son. He had the fish and chips while The Wife ordered the Black Forest (Bavarian pretzel roll with turkey, bacon, cheese, lettuce, tomato and honey mustard. Sounded delicious, aside from the tomato, and I was counting on her not being able to finish it so I could have some but that didn’t work out).

I was torn between my usual standby — the buffalo chicken ranch wrap — and the chipotle chicken wrap. I decided to be adventurous and went with the latter. It was tasty. The Son devoured his fish and chips so quickly that we wound up ordering some chicken strips to keep him occupied while the rest of us finished our meals. It’s amazing how much that kid can eat given how thin he is. We concluded the Fox and Hound is a pretty good place to eat — if only they would open one closer to home.

Pokin decided the birthday girl needed a drink, so he ordered for her the Kryptonite ‘Marg — a giant concoction made of Tequila, Cointreau, sour and pineapple juice, and Midori Melon Liqueur. Now, I didn’t think Kryptonite was supposed to be good for you — it’s certainly not good for Superman — but  Stevie seemed to enjoy it.

With dinner finished the party was scheduled to move down the road to Sports Fusion for an evening of fun and games. Since I am not into fun and games, we declined. And so ended our role in Stevie’s Birthday Extravaganza.

Until next weekend.

Man on a Ledge

Here’s a movie that tries so hard to be an audience-pleasing heist flick but everything about it is so preposterous that you kinda wish the filmmakers   had been pushed off a ledge. Or maybe just the script. It’s not so bad that people should die over it.

Sam Worthington stars as Nick Cassidy, an ex-cop convicted of stealing a rare jewel from businessman David Englander (Ed Harris).

Nick decides to clear his name by escaping from prison, planning an elaborate break-in at Englander’s fortress-like office building with his brother Joey (Jamie Bell) and Jamie’s girlfriend Angie (Genesis Rodriguez), stealing the rare jewel from  Englander’s impregnable safe and exposing his lie to the world.

Oh, and to make the theft go smoothly, Nick is going to climb out on the ledge of a high-rise hotel room across the street to hold everyone’s attention while Joey and Angie do the dirty work. It’s such simple plan, what could possibly go wrong?

This movie is stupid in so many ways. How did Nick get the plans for Englander’s office and safe, not to mention the equipment to break in? How is it that a cop’s brother, not to mention the brother’s girlfriend, just happen to be expert thieves? It’s all so ridiculous.

But here’s the best bit — I don’t normally like to spoil major plot points unless the movie is so bad that it deserves it, so Major Spoilers Ahead — when Joey and Angie break into the safe, the jewel isn’t there! They take off and Englander arrives, sees valuables scattered about, then goes over to a special, secret safe-within-the-safe where he has to do the fingerprint and retinal scan to open it. Safely inside is his precious jewel. He then takes the jewel out of the special secret safe and puts it in his pocket. 

When he took that diamond out of the impregnable safe and put it in his pocket it was all I could do to not stand up in the darkened theater and shout: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON’T TAKE THE DIAMOND OUT OF THE SAFE! IT’S SAFE THERE! ARE YOU AN IDIOT? THIS IS GOING TO BITE YOU IN THE ASS BY THE END OF THE FILM, I GUARANTEE IT!

I won’t spoil the ending by telling you that I was right, but since you’re probably smarter that whoever wrote this script, you’ve probably already figured it out.

The film has more problems, if it even matters at this point. The rest of the cast is all clichés, from the Annoying TV Newslady, to the Hippie in the Crowd, to the Bad Cops working for Englander (including one you’d never suspect!), to the Damaged Police Negotiator who gets sucked into Nick’s story and is redeemed.

It seems like I always get sucked into watching one really bad movie in January — at least “Man on a Ledge” was better than “Country Strong.”

 Albert Nobbs

This week’s 2011 Oscar-bait movie that’s just now making its way to St. Louis is “Albert Nobbs.” It’s a quaint, odd film that should appeal to people who feel “Downton Abbey” would be better if it just had more gender bending.

Set in 19th century Ireland, Glenn Close stars as the title character — a woman pretending to be a man in order to work as a waiter in a fine hotel. Albert is a hard worker but very quiet and reserved. No doubt some find him peculiar. If they only knew his, err..her, secret.

Albert has been working at the hotel for several years and has accumulated quite a nest egg, which she hopes to use to open a tobacconist shop. Albert finds a kindred spirit in Hubert (Janet McTeer), another woman caught up in a similar charade. When she learns Hubert has a wife and a nice domestic life, Albert begins thinking about more than just being a shop owner.

Albert decides he wants to marry Helen (Mia Wasikowska), a young maid at the hotel. Helen’s not interested, but boyfriend Joe (Aaron Johnson) encourages her to go out with Albert and to try and get whatever they can from this odd, fragile man.

Based on a short story by George Moore and directed by Rodrigo Garcia, “Albert Nobbs” is — like its title character — a strange little film. It has a great eye for period detail and an excellent cast. Close and especially McTeer deserve their recent Oscar nominations.

Kudos also go to the award-nominated makeup department. There have been many films about women disguised as men and vice versa, but Close pulls it off better than most.

It’s an interesting story and well told but I was a little put off by how naive or just plain clueless Albert seemed to be. Did Albert really think Helen wouldn’t mind that she would be marrying a woman? When was she going to tell her? Before this imaginary wedding or after?

]]> http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/at-the-movies-man-on-a-ledge-albert-nobbs/feed/ 0 Ronnie Man-on-a-Ledge-poster albert-nobbs-poster http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/for-the-record-adele-21/ http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/for-the-record-adele-21/#comments Thu, 26 Jan 2012 01:32:39 +0000 Ronnie http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/?p=4633 Continue reading →]]> If there’s one thing I got tired of seeing during last month’s onslaught of “year in review/best of” articles it was the word “Adele.” It popped up all the time — artist of the year, best album, etc.

(To be fair, about all of my entertainment news now comes from a free subscription to “Entertainment Weekly” courtesy of my sisters and Yahoo News, so maybe I’m not getting the full story. EW is notoriously biased and  usually wrong.)

This raised a question for me: Who the Hell is Adele?

I’ve been out of touch with popular music for some time, but I still manage to pick up bits and pieces just by existing. I know who Lady Gaga and Justin Beiber are even though I couldn’t name a song either one of them have recorded. But Adele? Sounds like the name of a village in the Alps or something.

Anyway, last week I was looking through the nephew’s CDs to find something to follow up Mumford and Sons and there it was — “21″ by Adele. Well, I’m nothing if not open minded. Let’s give it a spin.

OK. That was…nice. Adele certainly has a powerful, intriguing voice. The songs are decent. Poor woman. I can’t believe she’s been dumped on by so many men. Or is it one guy and she’s singing about a single heartbreak from multiple angles? I can’t be bothered to look into it.

But I’m just not feeling the love that this record has engendered in so many people. It starts off fine with “Rolling in the Deep” and the hook of “Rumour Has It” is catchy and I really like “Turning Tables” and “Don’t You Remember” has some impressive vocals and OK, OK, it’s a really good album. It just took me a while to get into it.

Still, I don’t think it’s a great album. It may well be the best album of 2011, I haven’t heard enough other albums to know (the only two I know I’ve heard, “Rare Bird Alert” and “Dirty Jeans and Mudslide Hymns,” I like better).

It’s overwhelming. Is this how Wolverine fans feel all the time? If only this had happened back when comics were a quarter.

Anyway, we’re not here to talk about Clint Barton today. I’m here to promote my new favorite X-book, which means we’re going to have to go through a lot of catching up first.

As you know, Angel is my favorite X-Man. Warren Worthington III is to the X-Line what Hawkeye  is to The Avengers.  He also gets about as much respect as Hawkeye — or at least as much respect as Hawkeye used to get.

For the past couple years I have been touting the greatness of “Uncanny X-Force,” a title about a secret assassination squad run by Warren and Wolverine. The highlight was the reunion of my favorite X-Couple: Angel and  Psylocke.

Yes, it was a fine run — and then Warren went crazy evil and Betsy killed him and he was reborn without any memory. Sigh. Why can’t I have nice things?

Elsewhere in the X-Universe

A couple years ago, after the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters was reduced to rubble for the 37th time, Cyclops said “screw it” and moved the X-Men to San Francisco. Shortly after that, for reasons I can’t remember, he moved the X-Men to a mutant-made island off the West Coast and named it Utopia.

Recently, Cyclops and Wolverine had a tiff and Logan headed back to Westchester County and took several X-Men and X-Kids with him. He reopened the school, which he renamed the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning. The adventures of Cyclops’ band are chronicled in “Uncanny X-Men” while the adventures of Headmaster Logan, the faculty and students of the Jean Grey School take place in the new title, “Wolverine and the X-Men.”

Headmaster Logan?

I was planning on taking a break from the X-Books after Warren was lobotomized; I figured I would need the money to buy all those new Hawkeye books. But then Logan pulled Angel out of X-Force and brought him to the school, so now he’s a cast member of “Wolverine and the X-Men.” The book has been getting decent notices so I went to the shop and picked up all the available issues (there’s 4 so far).

Huh. That was weirdly entertaining. Someone had the audacity to write a comedy X-Men title starring Wolverine. And it’s actually funny. And charming. And absurd. And witty. And surreal. I don’t know anything about writer Jason Aaron, but he’s very good.

If the idea of Wolverine as a school teacher/principal sounds crazy to you, well, that’s the point. It helps that he’s backed up by some of the better X-Men — like Iceman, Beast and Kitty Pryde (I’m not crazy about Rachel, but I can tolerate her; I do miss Psylocke, though). The student body is also a lot of fun. I usually hate X-Books where they split the attention between the X-Men and the students, but it works quite well here.

The art chores are currently split between Chris Bachalo and Nick Bradshaw. Both have a cartoony style that suits the tone of the book. Bachalo’s work can be polarizing — some love it, some hate it. I like it a lot when it’s clear but at times it can be a chaotic mess.

Marvel is currently publishing about a dozen X-Men titles (not counting Wolverine books) and if you can only read one of them — or if you only want to read one — I recommend “Wolverine and the X-Men.”

At least until Angel gets his mind back and goes off to some other title.

]]> http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/state-of-the-x/feed/ 0 Ronnie 1323803987 X-Men Schism Jason-Aarons-Wolverine-and-the-X-Men-1-570x865 wolverine-and-the-x-men-20111118110723770-000 Jean_Grey_School_for_Higher_Learning_Wolverine_&_the_X-Men_Vol_1_3 http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/2012/01/22/west-pod-assemble/ http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/2012/01/22/west-pod-assemble/#comments Sun, 22 Jan 2012 18:05:23 +0000 Ronnie http://rroyreport.wordpress.com/?p=4612 Continue reading →]]> Of all the many bogus and silly organizations and groups I have made up and been a part of, West Pod was one of them. (You thought I was going to say “my favorite” or “the best” but I’m not stupid enough to go there).

Like all great supergroups, West Pod broke up due to rampaging egos and irreconcilable differences. But mostly because EBecks moved to New York City.

EBecks and his lovely wife Luisa came back to town for a few days and he contacted me with plans to hook up with as many of his St. Louis pals as possible on Saturday night. I immediately contacted Cales because (a) opportunities for a West Pod reunion don’t come along that often, and (b) I needed there to be someone else at the get together that I would know besides the hosts. I also dragged Stevie along because I can’t seem to do anything anymore without her.

The plan was to meet at 8:30 p.m. at Frazer’s Restaurant and Lounge in Soulard. 8:30? I’m getting ready for bed at 9. Crazy New Yorkers, think the world runs on their schedule.

Frazer’s? Never heard of it. I check their website. The food is a bit too fru-fru and expensive for my tastes. No problem, we’re not meeting until 8:30, plenty of time to eat beforehand. We’ll just have some drinks and an appetizer or two. I check the appetizer menu: French Triple Brie Plate, Oysters Frazer, Mushroom Strudel, Chorizo Stuffed Dates, Zucchini Rolls…

Dear God, what is this place? No onion rings? No fried cheese? No toasted ravioli? Well, at least there’s a cheese tray. You can’t screw up cheese and crackers, right?

At 7 p.m. I eat some leftover chili and by 7:45 we’re on the road. We pick up Stevie and head downtown. For some reason I’m driving even though I’m the only one (besides The Son, who can’t drive) who doesn’t know where we’re going and who hates driving downtown. After being told to change lanes a half-dozen times, we make it to Frazer’s.

I pull into the parking lot but it turns out it’s not for Frazer’s. We have to park on the street. Parallel park, most likely. Reason #236 of things I hate about St. Louis. Why do you hate parking lots, St. Louis? This is why people fled the city. It wasn’t the lousy schools or the high crime rate — it’s the fact that you can’t park your car anywhere.

We eventually find a decent spot and make our way inside. EBecks is holding court in the lounge area. They have nice chairs and there’s room for everyone and we had a good time chatting and catching up. Stevie enjoyed her choice of wine and I enjoyed my cheese and crackers.

I’ve never seen Beatlemania or any of the various Beatles tribute groups because I can’t imagine paying to see an imitation (that’s also why I’ve never seen an Elvis impersonator). I figure if you didn’t get to see the real thing, then you just missed out.

But I’ll go see just about anything for free. A couple of years back a local Beatles tribute band was going to do a show at New Town so we loaded up the picnic basket and lawn chairs and drove out there. As is always the case when New Town tries something we’re really interested in, it began to rain about three songs into the set. The show was canceled and the band has yet to return.

A few weeks back I got an invitation to see “RAIN: A Tribute to The Beatles.” Apparently it’s been well received on Broadway. I’m not sure why they named themselves after an obscure Beatles song (at least as obscure as a Beatles song can be). If I were going to put together a Beatles tribute band and name it after one of their songs I’d probably go with “Rocky Racoon” or “Octopus’s Garden” or “Happiness is a Warm Gun.”  Odds are those names have already been taken.

Anyway, the show was Friday night and The Wife and I were looking forward to it. We had arranged for her to drive home from work and then we would drop off The Son with the Mother-In-Law and head downtown to see the Faux Four at the Fab Fox. But about 4 p.m. it started to drizzle. Freezing drizzle.

Now a logical person would say, “freezing drizzle — no big deal.” Unless that logical person lived in St. Louis. St. Louisans are incapable of driving in inclement weather. I don’t know why. It’s not something new. Missouri has long been home to unpredictable, unpleasant weather. But any time it snows or sleets or rains heavily the people here JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT.

Think I’m exaggerating? True story: Last week we had our first big snowstorm of the season — roughly one inch of snow. I get up to news that half of the schools in the area are being canceled. I look out the window and can still see the grass poking out from the thin layer of white stuff on my yard. Is this for real? In Stockton we didn’t cancel school for a freaking blizzard. And we don’t have snow plows and people tossing salt around in rural Missouri. You dig your way to school.

It normally takes me 30 minutes to drive to work, but given that it’s snowing I figure I’ll leave an hour early just to be safe. I arrive at work TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER. How on Earth can a light dusting of snow completely paralyze a major metropolitan area in the Midwest? It’s not like this is Florida or someplace where it never snows so they don’t know how to deal with it. We get snow every winter, usually in greater quantities. A lot of people wanted to blame MoDOT for not properly pre-treating the streets but c’mon, people. It was a minor snowfall. Stop driving like idiots.

So naturally, when the Winter Weather Advisory came out yesterday afternoon, my already-always-nervous nature went into high alert. We were already on a tight schedule even with good weather. At 6 p.m. The Wife wasn’t home yet and I made the mistake of turning on the local news. “THE ROADS ARE A MESS. ACCIDENTS EVERYWHERE. IF YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO OUT TONIGHT, DON’T.” 

The Wife gets home and declares the roads are fine if you don’t drive like an idiot. I’m not worried about us, I’m worried about the other idiots. It’s clear that she wants to go and if she’s willing to risk it, who am I to be the coward?

“Can we take your car? Mine has a crack in the windshield and I’d rather not take it out in freezing rain.”

“Sure.”

We get in The Wife’s car and start it up. rrr rrr rrr vroom. 

“Uh, is it always like that?”

“No, just sometimes.”

We make it to the retirement community without problem. Once again the St. Louis broadcast media have grossly overstated the danger of the situation. Yes, we did see accidents and there were roads closed, but the main drags were fine. The Wife takes The Son inside while I wait in the car. She returns and turns the key in the ignition.

rrr rrr rrr. rrr rrr rrr. rrr rrr rrr.

Apparently Beatles tribute bands and I are cursed to never come together.

We call AAA who inform us that due to the high volume of traffic problems, it will be 90 minutes before anyone can help. We go inside and have a nice visit with the MIL and the AAA guy arrives about an hour and 15 minutes later. He checks it out and declares our battery near dead, charges it up and recommends we don’t stop for anything on the way home.

By now it’s around 9 p.m. and we put The Son in the car and head for home. We haven’t had dinner so we go through the drive-through (not stopping for anything) at Chick-fil-A  so the night isn’t a total loss. The drive was uneventful and by 10 p.m. we were sitting at the kitchen table eating chicken sandwiches and waffle fries and drinking Coke and Jim Beam (The Son was just drinking Coke) and listening to Revolver.

Not such a bad way to end the night after all.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Of all the 9/11-inspired movies I’ve seen, and there have been many, this one is probably the strangest. I don’t know what to make of “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” other than it features an impressive performance by young Thomas Horn.

Based on a novel by Jonathan Safran Foer, it tells the story of Oskar Schell (Thomas Horn), a 9-year-old whose father Thomas (Tom Hanks) died in the World Trade Center disaster. A clever but fragile boy, Oskar is having a hard time adjusting to his father’s death.

One day Oskar discovers a key among his dad’s belongings and is convinced that it is part of some elaborate puzzle that Thomas left for him. Oskar believes if he can only find the lock that fits the key, it will unlock a final message from his father.

He doesn’t tell his mother (Sandra Bullock) what he’s up to and begins scouring the city for clues. Along the way he’s aided by a mysterious mute man (Max von Sydow) who is renting a room from Oskar’s grandmother (Zoe Caldwell).

I found this film intriguing but strangely lacking in something. Despite a terrific performance by the central character, the film didn’t resonate with me emotionally. And the whole plot relies on far too many unlikely coincidences for my tastes. Worth seeing, but not at full price.

Haywire

I know nothing about the world of Mixed Martial Arts, so the name Gina Carano means nothing to me. But after seeing her at work in “Haywire,” I would like to know more.

Directed by Steven Soderbergh, “Haywire” is a stylish, sometimes sluggish, sometimes violent, action adventure. The story is fairly conventional but the way it’s told is not.

Carano stars as Mallory, a top black ops agent who works for a private contractor named Kenneth (Ewan McGregor). When her boss betrays her and orders her death, Mallory goes looking for payback.

Like I said, this basic story has been done hundreds of times, but it’s the acting talent and the execution that make “Haywire” a fun ride. Soderbergh has assembled an unconventional ensemble that includes Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas, Michael Fassbender and Bill Paxton. Carano holds her own with these veteran talents and is a compelling onscreen presence.

And man, can she fight. The fight scenes are brutal and powerful. It’s unusual to see a woman take that kind of punishment in a no-holds-barred brawl with a man, but Mallory gives as good as she gets. Better yet, the fight scenes are shot in a straightforward style where you can see and feel each blow, unlike the shaky-cam method that has ruined many modern action films.

Be warned that this is not a conventional action film. The pace is slow and deliberate at times, there are long stretches without dialogue and all the double-dealing isn’t spelled out until the very end so you may feel lost as you’re going along.

Pariah

And now for something completely different. “Pariah” is a moving coming-of-age tale about a teenager coming to grips with her sexual identity while dealing with parents who can’t deal with each other let alone their daughter’s lifestyle choice.

Adepero Oduye stars as Alike, a young woman living with parents Audrey and Arthur (Kim Wayans and Charles Parnell) and younger sister Sharonda (Sahra Mellesse). Dad works nights and is rarely around and rarely backs his wife in her child-rearing decisions. And that’s just one area where the marriage is in trouble.

Alike sneaks out for late night excursions with her best friend Laura (Pernell Walker). It’s no secret that Laura is a lesbian but Alike is still trying to keep her orientation a secret — at least from her parents. Everyone, including the parents, suspects the truth but Audrey and Arthur don’t want to confront it.

Writer/director Dee Rees has crafted a powerful family drama with strong performances.

Shame

When is a porno not a porno? Apparently when it’s an Oscar-bait drama called “Shame.”

Michael Fassbender stars as Brandon, a hollow man who seeks to fill the hole in his life with sex. Cheap, meaningless sex. He’s addicted to sex and who would have thought a movie about a sex addict could be so slow, dull and plodding?

Brandon’s troubled sister (Carey Mulligan) shows up on his doorstep to complicate his shallow existence. There’s a hint that they’re both screwed up due to childhood trauma, but it’s never explained. Because that would require  adding some depth to this story.

Do you get the impression this movie didn’t work for me? It didn’t.  Directed by Steve McQueen (not the one you’re thinking of), “Shame” features a good performance by Fassbender but not good enough that it’s worth sitting through this tired film.

If you need a Michael Fassbender fix this weekend, go see “Haywire.”

The year was 1989. The Wife and I were sitting in a pub somewhere in Ireland and in the background was playing some delightful folksy-rocking tunes that sounded authentically Irish. We were enjoying it immensely until the pub management noticed there were some Americans in the room and put on some Michael Jackson.

I never found out who that band was that we were listening to that night, but some 20 years later I have found the next best thing: Mumford and Sons. Marcus Mumford and three other musicians that I don’t believe are really his sons formed the group in 2007, so I’m guessing it’s not the same band — maybe Mumford’s dad and uncles.

“Sigh No More,” the band’s first full-length studio album, was released in the States in 2010, which means I’m roughly 2 years late hopping on the Mumford and Sons bandwagon. I’m used to it. I didn’t discover Dylan until I was in my mid-20s.

Mumford and his boys work with traditionally bluegrass/folk instruments – banjo, stand-up bass, mandolin —  but with a rocking edge. Mum has a great, gravelly voice and the boys can put together some tight harmonies.

You know you’re dealing with a special album when the first three songs are all great. It doesn’t happen that often but it does here — “Sigh No More,” “The Cave” and “Winter Winds” are really fun tunes. Heck, they’re pretty much all fun tunes.

The standout tune is “Little Lion Man,” which was the first single.  The first time I listened through the album I wasn’t paying that close attention until this song came on, and whoa, I started paying attention thereafter.

Between this and the new John Hiatt, my 2012 is starting off on the right notes.

Still, I try to go into these things with an open mind. After all, I’ve been surprised by these types of movies in the past. I didn’t have much hope for “The Hangover” or the “South Park” movie, and I found them both very entertaining. And hey, look at all that box office success, critical acclaim and awards talk — it must be great, right?

Well, while I wasn’t expecting much neither was I expecting to hate it.

A brief synopsis for the ‘Bridesmaids’-impaired: Annie (Kristen Wiig) and Lillian (Maya Rudolph) are BFF. Lillian is getting married, Annie is her maid of honor. Annie gets into a pointless competition with bridesmaid Helen (Rose Byrne) for Lillian’s affection. Wacky hijinks ensue.

Here’s my problem with “Bridesmaids” — I guess I’m supposed to feel sympathy for down-on-her-luck Annie and I’m supposed to be rooting for her, but I found Annie to be petty, unlikable, rude, obnoxious and did I mention petty and unlikable? Yes, Helen was too perfect and throwing her wealth around and making Annie look bad, but Annie was such a  pathetic sad sack it was impossible to care.

As for the rest of it — the other bridesmaids were various stereotypes going through the motions as they go from one uninspired bit to the next such as everyone getting food poisoning (thanks to Annie) and then getting sick while trying on dresses. I will never understand the appeal of toilet — or in this case sink — humor.

And the film goes not once, but twice, to the old “Slideshow Bob Hits His Face With A Rake Over and Over and Over and Over” school of comedy. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. In this instance it didn’t. The competing-toasts and the attempts-to-get-the-cop’s-attention bits went on long after they stopped being funny.

I could get past these minor comedy infractions but the heart of the problem is still Annie. In fact, the best part of the entire film is when bridesmaid Megan (Melissa McCarthy) goes to Annie’s house to beat some sense into her. How I was cheering her on. (McCarthy was certainly the film’s saving grace, along with Chris O’Dowd as Officer Nathan, Annie’s love interest. Run Away, Nathan! Run Far Away!)

And then, once Megan has tried to beat some sense into Annie, it’s for naught — despite a music montage that makes it appear otherwise. Helen shows up with news that Lillian has disappeared. Not only does Annie continue to be a jerk to Helen despite Helen’s apologies, but she doesn’t even figure out where her BFF has gone! Annie’s big moment to prove why she’s Lillian’s best friend, and she’s as clueless as Helen in locating the missing bride. Instead,  Annie harasses her love interest into finding Lillian.

Sigh. And people think this movie should get an Academy Award nomination.

The Iron Lady

All I know about Margaret Thatcher I learned from the Elvis Costello song “Tramp The Dirt Down,” which contains the following classic lyrics:

The film opens with an elderly Margaret Thatcher (Streep) living in near-seclusion. Her best friend and companion remains her husband Denis (Jim Broadbent), even though he’s been dead for some time. As is often the case with film biographies, the story bounces back and forth through time, hitting the highs and lows of Thatcher’s life.

Director  Phyllida Lloyd’s approach focuses more on the person than the policymaker. Thatcher is presented as a strong-willed, driven woman willing to put her family second to her ambition and as someone who was always confident that she was always right.

Since you can’t fit a life into two hours a lot of the details are sketchy and a lot gets left out. The film shows some failings but is largely a positive portrayal. It’s historical accuracy I leave to the historians.

As a movie it’s pretty good. It looks and feels true to the time and place. It’s pretty easy to follow even as it races through a complex life. And it features a talented cast, especially Streep in the title role. Much has been said of her ability to seemingly lose herself in a role and this is yet another example of that. Streep is remarkably convincing as Thatcher, whether in her prime or long past it.

And kudos to the makeup department. The folks over at “J. Edgar” could’ve learned a lot from them.