You Were a Tomato! (R.I.P. Sydney Pollack)

Sydney Pollack's feature directorial debut was directing the other great Sydney, Poitier in 1965's The Slender Thread. He went on to direct 20 more films before he passed away on May 26, 2008. A lot has already been said this past week by colleagues and journalists, particularly that he was "an actor's director." So often, this moniker is bantered about, but rarely does it truly apply. Pollack was one of those rare directors who was also a damn good actor. Though he may have started his life in showbiz as an performer, he was not a Redford or a Costner who became a star first, then jumped into the director's chair. He was a director first, and a damn good actor second.

That said, it's only fair that The Mung Hour allow some of the very characters he directed to speak directly about the man.

Dorothy Michaels - from 1982's Tootsie: "He was relentlessly pushing me to be sexier, as if to say that the woman I was wasn't good enough for him to begin with. Well, if that were true, you macho shithead, then why did you have me in this sexist pic to begin? Shame on you, Sydney Pollack. If I had a cattle prod, I'd zap your balls in front of your wife and kids. That would curl that Brillo pad head of yours. Shame on you!"

Katie Morofsky - from 1973's The Way We Were: "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we were old? Then we could say we survived all this. Everything thing would be uncomplicated, the way it was when we were young? Then Sydney, you would still be alive."

Attorney Michael Colin Gallagher - from 1981's Absence of Malice: "You know something? When you kill yourself, it's a homicide, so they do an autopsy. They'll get a knife. They start here. They're gonna split her open. Up here they use shears. Shears, for Christ's sake! Don't let them do that to you, Sydney!!"

Mitch McDeere - from 1992's The Firm: "Hey Sydney, wouldn't it be funny if I went to Hollywood, you went to jail, and we both ended up surrounded by crooks?"

Iron Man Fans to Indy Fans: Our Film is Gonna Kick Your Film's Ass!

Well, here we are, a week away from May 3rd, the day that kicks off the insanity of Summer Movies '08. Apparently, the Iron Man fans are lining up accordingly, sitting in lawn chairs amongst the tent town of fellow 20-something men, sucking down cans of Rock Star by the dozens, not a female to be found anywhere, and all eager for the premiere of Robert Downey Jr. in his new suit of metal.

Remarkably absent are the throngs of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull fans competing with them for valuable sidewalk real estate. That film opens a few weeks later, yet there's not a single 265lb. fedora-and-bomber-jacket-clad groupie at the theaters. Could the George Luca$ fanboy machine be slowing with age, or did the sanguine distaste of the Star Wars prequels ruin the fans' orgasmic anticipation for years to come? Sadly, gone are the days where you would see a film like The Phantom Menace and wade through a sea of Jedi, Princess Leias, Darth Vaders, farts and body odor.

The Iron Man fans are a younger breed of 'cool dorks' who choose to distance themselves from the slavish, Indy fans who lap anything up from their 1980's youth, particularly the waning Spielberg and Luca$ era. The I.M. fans view themselves as working professionals and comic book aficionados, some with real girlfriends they met in college or from co-workers' boardgame nights.

One Iron Man supporter we interviewed for this article, had this to say while standing outside a Burbank cinema in 85 degree heat while moviegoers blew past him to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall, "I think most of us here resent being mentioned in the same sentence as those internet shut-in, Indiana Jones fans. What a bunch of fa*gots. I mean that franchise is soooo twenty years ago. Harrison Ford is a total pot-head lush. That film is gonna blow. Everyone knows that Iron Man is the sh*t! "

Pausing for a swig from his 64oz. Slurpee, he went on to say, "Indy's just gonna suck balls. Like I'm supposed to give a sh*t that Shia LeBoef's in it? He was alright in Transformers but who cares? My dad might want to see it, so I'll probably be dragged along with he and my little brother who won't have a f*cking -- can I say f*cking? Won't have a f*cking clue who the f*ck Indiana Jones is. Cate Blanchett is kinda hot, but she's had too many kids and that wig makes her look like this creepy lebanese (sic-lesbian) I knew in college. Anyway, Iron Man is THE movie to see. Which is why we're here staking our claim to get the good seats."

When asked how asked how he felt about relinquishing their sidewalk claim after Iron Man actually opens, one of his sleeping-bagging buddies chimed in, "No, dude. We'll be right back in line Monday morning for the new Batman flick."

He was referring to the Batman sequel, The Dark Knight which won't open until July 18th, nearly three months from now. Invariably, they are stocking up on Pringles, Dr. Pepper and Pork Rinds for the wait.

Original Idea: Hot Blonde Makes Lemonade Out of C-Cup Lemons

The trailer for The House Bunny, the remake of the intense courtroom drama, Legally Blonde has hit the net. Wait, it's not a remake. My apologies. The legal team at The Mung Hour has informed me that this is NOT a remake. It is an 'homage'. My sincere apologize for suggesting anything of the sort.
Hailing from Adam Sandler's Happy Madison Productions, this daring new indictment of how women are viewed in society is a new form of cinematic thriller and destined to sweep the awards in 2009. One is awestruck by the audacity for a major studio like Sony to produce a fish-out-of-water story about a blonde-haired bimbo teaching everyone around her how to shop and wear Manolo Blahnik shoes. How could such an original concept be greenlit is a mighty question indeed and one we should all applaud.
This film boasts an impressive pedigree of seasoned dramatic actresses like American Idol's Katherine McPhee, in her screen debut, as well as Rumer Willis, who will be joining Chelsea Clinton and Alexa Rae Joel in the new reality show, "God Has a Sense of Humor".
After you watch the trailer, you all can judge as to which film this movie is ripping of-- paying homage to:
A) Blonde Ambition
B) Revenge of the Nerds
C) Sister Act
D) Real Genius
E) Apocalypse Now
F) All of the above

Don't Vomit on Prom Night

Somewhere in the ether, I see a prison where incarcerated movie projects drag their chains through their prison cells, praying for a quick death at the box office gallows. Today we have another inmate shuddering with fear under the same thunderous cry of its fellow movie inmates, "REMAKE WALKING!"

Prom Night opens in theaters nationwide starring Brittany Snow in the role that six people will remember. Half of those people will think, "Damn, that Tara Reid still looks pretty good." Personally, I'd prefer to remember Brittany as the white supremacist hottie on FX's Nip Tuck who nearly burned her face off trying to bleach the ethnicity from her skin. So, here she is headlining another in a string of 70s/80s teen horror films being remade by the Michael Bays of the world.

To rail against these reprobate remake flicks is noble but pointless. Get over it. It's like getting mad at Rush Limbaugh for saying "liberals" five times a minute or glaring at Simon's v-neck sweater on American Idol. Remakes are here to stay, or at least until every movie ever made gets remade. Then, the extra chromosomes of remaking a remake will brew up an in-bred stew ruled by the divine grandchildren of Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta Jones. Andy Warhol will dance in his own grave.

So instead of raging at the lack of creativity in Hollywood, I say we pity these poor prisoners, these films destined to either a swift box office hanging or home video purgatory. Then again, if a film costs $30 million to produce and market then makes its money back at the box office with profits from DVD sales, there really are no last rites to speak of.

We really can't wait for the remake of Ghoulies. Opening scene is at the Minnesota International Airport where one of the man-eating creatures pops out of a toilet in use by a horny Idaho Senator. That's entertainment.

Never Too Late to Give An Oscar-Winner Career Advice

(Special Contributing Mung Hour Writer - Double-S)

 

George Clooney needs to start thinking about a commercial film and soon. I understand he's carving out an Eastwoodian niche for himself as he moves into late middle-age, but he's leaving out one important component that was/is crucial to Eastwood's unprecedented longevity. Hit movies.

Clint interspersed his artistic endeavors with very profitable films. Clooney is really not bolstering his artistic side with reliable commercial productions. The Ocean's franchise limped to a close last summer. He needs something less quirky that will make money. Leatherheads was DOA six months ago when they delayed it. The Cohen Brothers movie is also going to be too quirky. He needs to try for these kind of mid-budget thrillers/dramas that Denzel takes to the bank every eighteen months.

I'm sure George will be calling me soon to ask for my help ...

I Filmed A DTV in Bulgaria And All I Got Was This Crummy XXXL T-Shirt!

(Special Contributing Mung Hour Writer - Double-S)

Our boy Steve is a bloated hulk, presumably suffering from an undisclosed chronic illness that prevents him from maintaining a semblance of his former self. In addition, six and a half foot tall three hundred pound martial artist/stunt doubles don't grow on trees in Bulgaria. With this the case, how do the producers of this drek stage a fight scene?

The answer is paddy cake slap fighting. Steve waves his hands at the camera, then they cut to some stunt man flying through the air. Occasionally, they pull pack to display a move, but those usually look like someone running into and bouncing off of an enormous mound of undigested red meat. We shouldn't make fun of him, because he'll no doubt die young from a massive coronary in a third world country where competent medical assistance is three countries to the west.

So here we have Stevie in his latest direct-to-DTV-oblivion 'effort' Pistol Whipped. And featuring Lance Henriksen as "The Old Fellow Who Had a Few Memorable Supporting Roles a Long Time Ago But Never Quite Made It So He Has To Do This Shit To Fund The Beach House."

What is Lance to do between calls from Ed Harris or Viggo Mortensen for legitimate films? Update his passport photo and get on the plane for Yugoslavia or Vancouver. Henriksen has acted in or voiced no less than twenty roles since the beginning of 2007. This means he's got some BIG financial problems OR he gets paid a shitload of money for a day's work and his twenty film roles represent two or three real projects and a couple dozen trips to Canada for a half day's work opposite a near dead former WB cash machine.

Still, what's life like on 'the set' of a Turd-By-Design film? Does Lance sit patiently in his room at the Holiday Inn Express deciding if he should start drinking before or after doing his scene? Do the producers pick up the tab for his wife too? Per diem? Frills? No Frills?

"I just got paid a hundred grand to read six lines over Steve Seagal's shoulder and eat a Monte Cristo sandwich afterward... Steve had two!"

Episode V: The Island Strikes Back

On ABC's Lost, we've got Jack, Kate and Sawyer, aka Luke, Leia and Han. Well, if that were true, then Jack would be Kate's brother, but since Claire is really his sister, that's out. But for the sake of fanboy comparison, enough to send shudders through the loins of your average pud-tugging Warcraft player, Jack is Luke, Sawyer is Han Solo and Hurly is Chewbacca. I guess Ben isn't Ben, because Locke is Ben. Kenobi, that is. Or because of his baldness, is Locke really Mace Windu? No, he can't be Mace Windu. He's white. Well, they killed off all the black folks on the show, so maybe Locke is Mace. But Mace didn't exist with Luke, Han and Leia. Too bad there isn't a 1-800-GEEK phone number to call in these analogies. Best Buy, take note.

Due to the toxic levels of nerdity running through today's post, the Gods of Reason have just doused my genitals with a bolt of lightening, ensuring I will never procreate. Still, one cannot be faulted for viewing the world of Lost through the same Star Wars prism that JJ Abrams and his Generation X crew clearly have. Maybe it's a stretch to compare the weathered VW bus that Hurly drove through the jungle as the Millennium Falcon, but Sawyer is definitely cut from the Correllian cloth. And we can all savor the image of Evangline Lily's Kate in donut braids and Jabba's slave girl bikini thong.

Circling back to the altar of romance and heartache, there is something very touching about the tragic Dr. Jack Shepherd hucking his dignity at every turn to allow Kate the romps in the hay with Sawyer or the freedom in their rescue (the details of which we are just now learning as Season 4 rolls on). On the other end of the quadrangle, we have Sawyer. The mercenary who just wants to collect the reward for rescuing the princess. And to get laid. The braggart and solitaire who will let no one inside but brings his A-game when his friends need it. He may get Kate's body and her heart, but her soul belongs to Jack, and he knows it.

Complicating matters it the statuesque Juliette, whose affections for Jack upset not just the romantic apple carts, but possibly the safety of everyone on the island, as we learned from last week's episode.

So where in Star Wars does Juliette fit in? Hmmm. Maybe she's C-3PO. Golden, slender and made to suffer.