Holiday Season 2008: Where Have All the Hobbits Gone?

This has been the most pathetic holiday season at the box office in a while. Remember the days when you asked yourself, "Hmm, should we see Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings? The Aviator or Chicago? A Beautiful Mind or Confessions of a Dangerous Mind?"

Maybe it was the writer's strike pushing a lot of product into 2009 to cover the gaps. Maybe it was the economy. Maybe it was the lack of pre-sold franchises available. Or maybe it was the fact that too many studio weasels were focused on shitty remakes. Regardless, this has been the perfect time to be homebound with a newborn or snowed in, since the best things to watch are all DVD's like Season 4 of Lost and Deadwood. When the best reviewed film of the weekend (Benjamin Button) only merits a 74% RT freshness rating, then even the critics have given up. Niche films like Milk, Doubt and The Wrestler aside, Hollywood simply laid up this season.

The Spirit had none of its namesake at the box office. Today effectively has ended the solo directing career of one Frank Miller, who enjoyed the two weeks humidor rental at the Beverly Hills Hotel Polo Lounge cigar room but now has been sent packing back to Los Feliz.

The real B.O. battle this weekend was between tabloid favs Aniston vs. Pitt, with GQ's naked cover girl and the dead dog kicking Brad Pitt's wrinkled old-man-ass by a mile. Who would have thunk? And here some of us were all skeptical for Owen Wilson's post-suicidal return to the big screen in a (SPOILER AHEAD) dog-dies-at-end vehicle. We stand corrected. Hmmm, sequel? Dogs never die in Hollywood. They just produce puppies. How about a cross-over franchise? Marley vs. Beethoven: Dog Eat Dog, coming Christmas 2009.

Adam Sandler's hopes that Bedtime Stories would be his Night at the Museum aren't totally dashed just yet. $28M is respectable, if not low by Sandler standards, but it can play and play in January. Nobody believes it's going to be the hit that Disney hoped it would be, marking a pedestrian year for the Mouse House. Disney has now also dropped out of the Narnia franchise after Prince Caspian tanked. Too bad too since the movie garnered good reviews.

Frankly, someone over in Disney marketing should be summarily fired up top. No way they should have released the Narnia sequel in the summer, particularly sandwiching it in between Iron Man and Indy. The original Narnia was a holiday release, and as we like to quote Crash Davis a lot on this site, "You don't fuck with a winning streak." They'd still be in the C.S. Lewis money-printing business if they had simply released the movie this past weekend instead of last June. Overall, there were NO big budget genre films, and that's a travesty during Christmas. Disney above all the other studios, dropped the ball. Adam Sandler won't save them either.

Disney also should be spanked for not marketing Bolt until right before it was released. Someone drew a chart of internet hits for Madagascar 2 vs. Bolt. The line of online interest for Madagascar showed a steady increase from summer through October, indicating the level of awareness. The line for Bolt started roughly a month out. In typical Disney fashion, they waited until right before it opened to tell people about it. It backfired. They've done the same thing with most everything else, save for the Pirates franchise and the Pixar films.

But this past week has just been BORING at the box office. Not a single movie made $40M or more. Most of that is the due to the films themselves, but there is no doubt that snow storms hurt a lot of these films on some level. Normally, it's just the east that gets hit. This month, it was entire sections of the countries and both coasts.

Will Smith's Seven Pounds (of Shit) only cost around $55M and has already made $40M. It may be a bomb by Will Smith standards, but he got his $20M worth of flesh and got to cry on camera while reading the treatments for I Am Still Legend, Hancock Returns and Badder Boys.

Keanu Reeve's The Day The Pants Should Fill is turning out to be an expensive bomb for Fox. Hell even Keanu is babbling about another Speed movie with Sandra Bullock. Fox's only silver lining this past week is that their current legal victory with Watchmen, but they don't have much else to celebrate until Wolverine five months from now, and that could be iffy. And is it us, or is Fox responsible for most of the mediocre Marvel films? X-Men and X2 aside, they've got turds like X3, Daredevil and the Fantastic Fours to account for.

Again, the holidays should include at least two big genre films. Hell even something bloated like Jackson's King Kong would suffice. Hollywood gave us a gnarled up Brad Pitt, a dead dog rom-com, Scientologists vs. Nazis and a pedestrian Adam Sandler FX film. Tsk. Tsk. Let's hope there is no SAG strike. Holiday 2009 could be even worse, if that's at all possible.

TOP 10 THINGS TO DO ON CHRISTMAS DAY

1) Marvel at how much money the cast of A Christmas Story is NOT making from the TNT marathon.

2) Reminisce about the times you braved snow and ice on Christmas night, so you could nail your college girlfriend.

3) Race to the nearest Santa you can find still working and stammer, "I know you're not THE Santa I screamed at and pee'd on 30 years ago, but please accept this apology anyway!"

4) Drink a toast to all the many talented Jewish folks who wrote your favorite Christmas songs.

5) At brunch, compliment your mother's scrambled eggs and then quickly drop that you've switched political parties and are now in fact gay and dating Neil Patrick Harris.

6) Get ripped, cover yourself completely in mud, climb onto your roof at 2am and, torch in hand scream, "Santa! I'm here! Do it! Do it now!" and see how many of your neighbors get your Predator homage.

7) Wrap a box of Magnum condoms for tonight's family white elephant game.

8) Tell your Latino buddy that you hate the song "Feliz Navidad" but that you hope it won't damage your friendship.

9) Tell your wife that her Christmas present is a two-week trip to Paris and Italy, leaving out the part about you not actually booking it until you both retire for the following morning.

10) Nude Christmas caroling outside of 7-11.

TOP 5 INNOCENT BABES WHO DIED ON BOND'S WATCH

Every conceivable list has been coughed up in honor of the latest Bond installment, Quantum of Solace. Here's ours:

TOP 5 INNOCENT BABES WHO DIED ON BOND'S WATCH
5) Aki, You Only Live Twice. Poison slips down a string meant for Bond's mouth. He farts and rolls over, sending the poison into his lover's mouth instead. I know being a spy is tiring, but how could you be such a heavy sleeper, 007?

4) Andrea Anders, The Man With the Golden Gun. Knowing her boyfriend is hot for a duel, Bond smacks her around for info then nails her WHILE his other lover Goodnight is hiding in the closet. Finally, the poor girl gets a bullet in her chess by Scaramanga for her troubles. Bond, we hope you wrote a nice note of apology to her parents.

3) Solange, Casino Royale. Bond wins her boyfriend's Aston Martin in a poker match, then takes her back to his place for a quick romp before chasing after said boyfriend to Miami where he stabs him, then returns to the Bahamas resort to find the poor girl tangled in a hammock looking like the victim Dreyfuss examines in Jaws.

2) Plenty O' Toole, Diamonds Are Forever. Even her D-Cups couldn't keep poor Plenty afloat when she was found drowned in Bond's girlfriend's swimming pool.

1) Jill and Tilly Masterson, Goldfinger. A two-fer, 007? This really takes the cake. First, you get knocked out with one chop to the neck and wake up with a dead, gold chick in your hotel room. Then if that's not enough, you later meet up with her vengeful sister in Austria where you take her on a terrifying chase in the Aston only to see her neck busted by a hat-wielding Oddjob. Kudos.

Nobody Does it Better - Unless You Ask A Bond Fan

Inundated with blog after blog of Bond-age on the eve of the 22nd 007 outing, The Mung Hour would be remiss if it did not join the pack. TheAge.com has offered up one of the best summaries of the franchise so far this month. We agree for the most part, particularly with the praise of The Spy Who Loved Me as the quintessential Bond movie (usually reserved for Goldfinger). In terms of the perfect blend of action, humor, romance and action shaken and stirred with the cliches that launched Austin Powers, the 1977 Roger Moore hit really has it all. For the young'ins that want to sum up the Roger Moore era (and pretty much all of the seventies, for that matter), rent this film on a date and make sure you ply her with champagne first.

However we feel many blogs like Cinetopia dismiss Brosnan's tenure prematurely. While the films don't hold up as well now that they're all firmly in the rear view mirror of the Daniel Craig era, one must remember that amid worsening reviews, the films did better and better at the box office. While the critics griped about the movies, audiences truly loved Pierce Brosnan in the role. All the more reason in retrospect to afford Brosnan praise for single-handedly carrying that franchise. Imagine what he could have done with a really good script and freedom to explore the character, a request he tirelessly whined for. When you look back at all the casting choices, it was the choice of Pierce that people were actually waiting for. He was the people's choice.


But let's not leave Timothy Dalton at the curb, as he deserves a day-late and dollar-short round of applause for grounding the character back into the firmament, something both Brosnan and Craig should pay him a finder's fee for. While he could have brought a bit more flourish to the role, especially when up against the likes of Martin Riggs and John McClane at the 1980s box office, he rescued the character of James Bond, if not the franchise itself. Basically, Dalton was the Barack Obama of his time, left to clean up years of damage done by Roger Moore.

Lastly, Roger. Roger. Roger. The one Bond saddled with the worst decade of fashion. Just awful. Even at his fittest, the poor guy had polyester pants riding up above his waistline like my grandfather and had collars wider than Christina Ricci's forehead. But before we bag on Moore too badly, above all, he is owed the most respect for keeping the entire franchise afloat. Beyond George Lazenby, Moore proved that someone could follow Connery and keep the series prospering longer than any other actor. Without Moore's tenure, there would be no Dalton, Brosnan or Craig. In all fairness, Moore stayed past his freshness date, so perhaps he should have left his Trilby permanently on Moneypenny's hat rack in Octopussy. We all would have been spared what apparently is universally viewed as the worst of them all, A View To A Kill.

But damn, don't we all love that Duran Duran song?

The Next Big Hollywood Political Comedy

Rarely does The Mung Hour stray into the political arena, since The Onion has drafted a non-compete clause into our contract. However, it must be noted that since Sarah Palin really is the biggest political star of this election, we can't help but notice her potential political fortunes. If Alaskan Senator Ted Stevens does hang onto his Senate seat, then there is the possibility that he could be forced to resign when sentenced for his corruption conviction. That being the case, Gov. Palin could very well appoint herself the seat.

We would wish her well and hope that Hollywood capitalizes on her success with such potential films as:

Mrs. Smith Goes To Washington
Bride of Forrest Gump
Being There 2
Legally Brunette
Primary Lip Colors
Boobworth

HAPPY HALLOWEEN FROM THE MUNG HOUR!

Countdown to Halloween Film Pick: Ed Wood

Now if you're looking for a great Halloween film, you can't go wrong with 1994's Ed Wood. Forget Edward Scissorhands and Willy Wonka, Tim Burton got the best work out of his 'Bobby DeNiro' in this throwback film to the 1950's B-movies. Johnny Depp plays the title role as the cross-dressing auteur who has no clue that he has no talent. But it's Hollywood in the 1950s and why should any ambitious filmmaker stop at that?

Arguably Wood was the Sam Raimi of his time minus having a string of successful movies. His 1959 Plan 9 From Outer Space is notable only for bringing together Vampira (the REAL Elvira) and the late Bela Lugosi who had fallen out of the spotlight and into drug addiction. Martin Landau won a deserving Best Supporting Actor Oscar as the drug-addled and profanity laced Lugosi. Some of the best scenes are Lugosi filming his cameos for Wood's horror films and spouting off lines like, "Let's shoot this f*cker!" and "Karloff isn't worth the steam off my sh*t!" It's priceless stuff and Landau is mesmerizing and heartbreaking in the role.

Sporting an awesome supporting cast including Sarah Jessica Parker, Patricia Arquette and Bill Murray as the transsexual wannabe Bunny, this film is a must-see for any Johnny Depp fan. Surprisingly, there are a lot of people who have never seen this film. Shot in black and white, it appears to be Burton's most personal film to date, balancing the Burton quirkiness with a near perfect homage to the creepy, dreary 1950s horror schlock cinema.

Best line comes from Landau's Lugosi as director Wood tries to calm him down during a freezing night shoot in the swamp: "F*CK YOU! You come out here!"

Bourne Again!

We have news that a fourth Bourne movie is moving forward. Back the Brinks truck to Matt Damon's house. No way you can turn down the kind of money this franchise has made. Damon is probably the only actor under 60 with a back pocket franchise. The big question is whether he can get Jimmy Kimmel and Ben Affleck to cameo wearing daisy dukes and dog collars.

But here's the deal. What do you do with an amnesia based trilogy, post-amnesia? There are obvious hurdles here:
1) Bourne has his memory completely back.
2) He's killed everyone who trained him and fucked him over.
3) He now has absolute regret for all of his killings.
4) He has profound self-loathing for the fact that he ever was a hired killer.
5) A prequel perhaps? Damon is not in the shape Hugh Jackman is. It's doubtful he'll be able to pull off 26 at the age of 40.

In a franchise town, Universal is the kid at the table who is wearing thrift store clothing. They just don't have much but the Ludlum stuff. Moreover, Bourne's story arc kind of completed its course, leaving Jason, post-memory loss and regretful about his life. What to do, especially since the novels have run their course? Sure they can have him tackle Carlos the Jackal, something they excluded in the films from the novels. Or, make him a one-man A-Team. "If you need help, and you can find him, etc." We have some other ideas:

He's now a chef:
The Bourne Rotisserie
The Bourne Cotillion

Lawyer:
The Bourne Practice
The Bourne Time to Kill
The Bournemaker

Hollywood military adviser:
The Bourne Consultancy
Get Bourney

Gynecologist:
The Bourne Examination
The Bourne Smear

Schoolteacher:
The Bourne Recess
The Bourne Detention

Countdown to Halloween: A Film a Week

Well, we're just a few weeks away from the big night where kids rot their teeth and your shy female coworker dresses up as Slutty Mother Theresa, fishnets and all. Halloween is not just about getting drunk at parties and hitting on 22 year-olds who don't realize you're 40 because you're wearing a pirate shirt and eyeliner. No, it's also about watching scary movies. Preferably, it's about discovering one of your favorite scary movies on cable and passing out on the couch at 1am. But it can be a tease. How many times have we all flipped the dial to AMC and been excited to see Michael Myers stabbing someone but -- "D'oh!" It's Halloween 5, not the original classic John Carpenter film. Should have known from the bad hair on the mask. They just never got it right after Halloween II.

So the Mung Hour is counting down each week until Halloween with a choice horror recommendation you can rent or pray to the DirectTV gods they'll air it this month. (Oh, if you use the word "choice" in a sentence, that 22 year-old chick you're hitting on at the Halloween party will nail you on your real age.)

This week, since we brought him up, John Carpenter's The Thing. There are remakes and then there are REMAKES. Carpenter took the 1951 horror classic and added a good dose of claustrophobia and latex rubber. People forget there was a time when filmmakers used real stage blood instead of CGI (I'm talking to YOU, Zack Snyder). Aided by a first rate cast of men over 35 (unheard of in Hollywood now), Kurt Russell shows us how justified paranoia, confined quarters and a shape-shifting alien can really foul up the workplace, particularly in -32 degree Antarctic weather.

Favorite line: After watching the creature morph from a colleague into a giant venus fly-trap, biting the head off a comrade before getting torched, Donald Moffat turns to his coworkers and says, "I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I'd rather not spend the rest of this winter TIED TO THIS FUCKING COUCH!"

Roadhouse The Musical!

In light of the recent gooey opera based on David Cronenberg's The Fly, The Mung Hour proposes a musical based on 1989's most underrated ode to mullets, throat-ripping, and groin-kicks starring the ever precious Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliott.

Featured songs:
"The Double Deuce"
"My Way or the Highway"
"What if They Call You a C*cksucker?"
"Pain Don't Hurt"
"His Name is Wade Garrett"
"Not Much For Stamina"
"This is My Town"
"I F**ked Guys Like You in Prison"
"This is Our Town"
"Double Deuce: Reprise"

Kate Winslet Has Enough Cow Bell

In her upcoming WWII drama The Reader, Kate Winslet undergoes a miraculous transformation, apparently into Christopher Walken. We're not entirely sure if this blatant Oscar grab is meant to capture the attention of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman, but the Titanic star's astounding similarity to the Walken begs its own movie, a la Being John Malkovich.

The question is how well she tap dances as host of SNL.

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

(By special Mung Hour guest contributorm Double-S)

Last night, it hit me. They just don't make them like they used to. I know, I know. Old guys often look back at the films of their youth and decry that the new stuff is bat guano. No argument here. When I was a kid, my Dad just could not understand how why I thought Hopalong Cassidy sucked.

Today, my son simply cannot understand why I think Wanted blows. Folks, it's the goat from Narnia throwing curveballs out of a pistol. One, even if the once talented Doug Liman did create a suspension of disbelief strong enough to set aside simple physics, we still are left with a very nagging question: In 2008, with all the weapons at everyone's disposal, why is it helpful to burp a hanging slider out of a Glock 17?

It's dumb, but it doesn't know it's dumb. Since the film was based on a graphic novel, we're all supposed to buy it as art. Tell you what, if the 18-34 demographic wants to watch a four foot tall faun take orders from the former Mrs. Billy Bob Thornton, fine. I'll watch BELIEVABLE films, like Fire Down Below. This 1997 actioner featured the just barely pre-corpulent Steven Seagal as a gun toting, ass kicking EPA Agent sent to the back woods of Kentucky to bang Marg Helgenberger and beat the shit out of some now washed up country singers. Now THAT'S a movie.

What happened to the dumb action films where everyone knew they were dumb except the star? Make no mistake, when Jeb Stuart signed the checks to get Fire Down Below into production, he KNEW a movie about a gun toting ass kicking EPA agent was dumb, but WB owed Seagal two more films and this was better than a sequel to the one about the gun toting, ass kicking oil rig safety expert who couldn't figure out Joan Chen was Chinese, not Native American.

And I don't want to hear a Jason Statham rebuttal. All you have to do is watch the hot oil slap fight in the first Transporter and you know all you need to know about that guy's fan base.

Why can't we have dumb action films anymore? Yeah, Rambo 2008 was dumb, but that was mostly because of what the HGH did to the diameter of Stallone's cranium. Why can't someone get Dwayne Johnson to play a gun toting, ass kicking HUD agent who goes to the inner city to help a bunch of down trodden urban youth take back their neighborhood from a smarmy real estate developer played by Josh Charles?

A huge opportunity is about to be wasted this fall when Mark Wahlberg hits theatres as Max Payne. The movie is based on a video game no one has played since about 2003, but we're treating the movie as if it's not purposeful garbage. Like the character he played in Boogie Nights, Mr. Wahlberg seems blissfully unaware that his films are stupid. Though roughly 1/3 the size of Steven Seagal, Marky Mark seems age appropriately poised to take over the mantle abandoned when WB decided The Patriot should go DTV ten years ago.

Dumb action films that know they're dumb are CHEAP! Why spend $100M on Wanted, shelling out huge sums for Oscar winners to populate supporting roles? For $20M, you can throw a few bones at Sam Elliott and Jennifer Connelly, then let Mark Wahlberg and Dwayne Johnson play mismatched FCC agents on the trail of a potty mouth DJ who also operates a white slavery ring out of his Miami penthouse.

Putting a Period on the Period

Question of the day: who the hell is watching these period films? They are everywhere, yet does anyone pay to see them besides theater students and that chunky, closeted coworker who likes to give shoulder massages? Toss in a few single British thirty-somethings who actually think James McAvoy is a hunk, and that's about it.

Twenty years ago, a film like Dangerous Liaisons not only nabbed some Oscar nominations but even enjoyed an audience. Maybe it's because they were few and far between. For every Merchant Ivory film where Emma Thompson or Helena Bonham Carter sucked in their tummies for the corseted dress and Hugh Grant stammered in Edwardian attire, there are dozens of more recent films that come and go like the wind. And they all seem to star Keira Knightly. Perhaps her deal with the Devil for the Pirates franchise meant a lifetime of wearing bodices and doublets. Similarly, Orlando Bloom has done one film without a sword at his side, and it was one of Cameron Crowe's largest bombs.

When The Duchess comes out next month, ask anyone around you if they plan on seeing it and listen to the crickets. It's a foregone conclusion that a hunky actor seeks to pad his resume with period fare in an attempt at depth and range. Heath Ledger in Casanova comes to mind . Or the ditzy actress looking for credibility. Think Scarlett Johanns0n in The Other Boleyn Girl and The Prestige (at least the latter had Batman vs. Wolverine). One can't help but wonder what goes through a studio exec's mind when they say aloud, "Yeah, that fang-toothed bimbo from Spider-Man? Let's cast her as Marie Antoinette!"

Period films can be a terrific ride through history and great escapism if done with intrigue, style and a flare for the naughty. If we pay to sit through an entire film with Scarlett Johannson bursting out of her corset, can we please SEE HER BURST? R-ratings, folks. And how about some good ol' gore? Remember when Liam Neeson literally cut Tim Roth in half with his broadsword in Rob Roy? Now we're talking!

Nothing wrong with period films, but the recent past seems to be a lot cooler, particularly in the mid 20th century. May we humbly request a bit more L.A. Confidential and a little less Wuthering Heights?

That Summer That Almost Was: 2008 Movie Wrap-Up

(by Mung Hour guest contributor, Double-S)
We're pretty officially one film away from the unofficial end of 2008's Summer Movie Crop. Though Death Race and even Babylon AD's producers may take umbrage, this thing ends with Tropic Thunder as it's the last wide release with any real shot of making big bank. Actually, I take that back. I have no idea what to expect out of Clone Wars. Could not even venture a guess as to what that thing will earn opening weekend. (The Mung Hour ventures a guess - $17M based on tots who don't mind baby Jabba the Hutt who poops and farts.)

I've got to say this has been about the best summer in some time. A new super hero was introduced and an old one enjoyed his finest hour. An AARP eligible action hero from our youth returned to not embarrass himself commercially or artistically. Two cartoons hit it out of the park. Several bits of counter-programming exceeded expectations. R-rated comedy returned with a bang.

There were at least two bona fide sleepers with Journey To The Center of the Earth and What Happens in Vegas. Hancock was the quietest $200M+ earner I can remember. There were quite a few break evens that will surely go green when they hit ancillary markets. Hulk, Get Smart, Hellboy, and Zohan come to mind.

Unless Tropic Thunder dies, there were very few true bombs. Speed Racer will be the summer's champion no matter what happens from this point on. Some may want to put X-Files up on that pedestal, but if the budget really only was $25M, then it's probably got a better chance of lining pockets on DVD than several of the above noted middle tier films. SR was just a dump in the pants of both the studio and the creators. Way too much money. Way too much gayness.

Narnia may have successfully ended that franchise, because that one pretty much needed $200M to warrant another installment. It's like Superman or Hulk. Once the pooch is screwed, do you really try again?

Love Guru has effectively ended the tier one career of Mike Myers, though he may live on as some sort of shape shifting character actor. To the best of my knowledge, he's only appeared on screen once not masked by some sort of character persona and that was in Axe Murderer. He's used props for virtually everything else and even did so in his serious turns, such as 54.

Overall, I think we'll be looking back with longing come 2009. Unless some amazing shit gets rushed into production, we could be screwed. Then again, it does sound like that's happening. Tarantino is moving fast with Inglorious Bastards. Variety announced Pitt was in for the lead and that QT wants to be done by Cannes next year. Ballsy, but if he's been planning it for five years, there's a chance he can make it happen quick.

Quantum of Solace (or, Suantum of Qualace if you've heard the new song) and some other 'serious' fare is about all we have left to look forward too. The poster for Righteous Kill seems more like an ad for a laxative. At some point, both Pacino and DeNiro have to accept that they're way closer to seventy than fifty.

Max Payne? House of Lies? State of Play? The Spirit? Day the Earth Stood Still.

Oh, and after seeing the preview, let me be the first to predict the end of Jim Carrey in Yes Man. Looks bad bad bad. And he's finally aged to the point where he looks his age and having Zooey Deschanel as his female lead is borderline creepy. I'm sure he'll make a mint on Christmas Carol in 2009, but the zany urban comedy is oh so over for him.

So, there you have it.

Do We Still Want Our Mummy?

1999 was a pretty big year at the movies, bigger still for visual FX houses. April gave us a double punch of The Matrix and The Mummy, both groundbreaking films in their use of CGI and balls-out action A month later, we were forced to endure Episode I: The Phantom Menace. While wishing the pox upon George Luca$ for the intolerable He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned Binks shoved down our throats, most people would agree that the FX of the pod race and the space scenes were top notch. Now can we go back and digitally erase young Anakin from the entire movie?

Out of all the blockbusters of '99, Stephen Sommers' The Mummy was arguably the best date movie. Derided for its overuse of CGI, implausible action sequences, wretched dialog and cardboard characters, it was very successful and launched the careers of Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz onto the A-list. It was a fairly pioneering film that blended modern technology with the Raiders-esque style of action and setting and threw in a dash of 1930s classic horror.

2001's The Mummy Returns worked really hard to weave in an absurdly convenient storyline for its protagonists and introduce us to the Rock, but it relied too much on CGI and too little on any real weight of story. Basically, the Mummy comes back and there's a bunch of fighting leading up to one of the weakest CGI character since "E.T. the Extra Terrestrial" video game for the Atari 2600. We're talking about that absurd Scorpion King monster with the Rock's digital face glued to it. Horrible. And it committed one of the bigger TV/Film sins, introducing a young kid, aka the 'Cousin Oliver' for all you Brady Bunch fans.

So this weekend, we've got The Mummy 3: Tomb of the Much Needed Universal Tentpole. We're to believe that Brendan Fraser's toupee and face have aged a mere five years, but now he's got a 20 year-old son. And we're meant to believe that Rachel Weisz would turn down a paycheck for her dignity (unheard of in Hollywood). Replacing her as the pert and perky Evie O'Connell is the newest MILF in town, Maria Bello. I don't know which to fear more, her attempt at a British accent or the Freudian tension between she and her 'son', Luke Goss as young Alex O'Connell.

Regardless, the trailers suggest a rewind to 2001 with marginally improved CGI and every bit as painful dialog. Stephen Sommers has exited the series to a perfect project for him, the film adaptation of the 80s toy commercial, I mean animated babysitter, G.I. Joe. After the craptacular Van Helsing in 2004, directing a film about human toy soldiers spitting out groaners and blowing stuff actually makes sense. Nearly as perfect as pairing Michael Bay with transforming trucks.

Having not seen the third Mummy yet, should we judge this unnecessary film by the quality of its predecessor or look to the critics? With a 12% rotten rating at rottentomatoes.com, I think Universal would prefer we marvel at Jet Li, Michele Yeoh and a family triumvirate of attractive protagonists. And wait! They've thrown not one, not two but three Abominable Snowmen! Wait just a minute folks. Dammit. Did they just borrow the CGI werewolves from Van Helsing and bleach their fur?

Movie Art 101: What Were They Thinking?

Yes, the woman in this poster looks a bit like Serena, Samantha Stephens evil cousin on Bewitched. Sorry gents, but that is a dude. Her metallic genitalia is an outie not an innie. Moreover, it is hard to tell if that's Eric Bana in the fedora or Corey Feldman. Ah, the wonders of poor Photoshop.

As we wait until November 7th for the latest 007 movie to save us from feel-good holiday fare, we can savor the artistry the Bond franchise continues to spawn on home video. This 2003 musical comedy from Thailand truly embraces the spy genre head-on and with lots of flowers. If you saw this on the Blockbuster Video shelves, you might be tempted to report it to management as a fringe of their "We will not sell pornographic movies - unless somehow it's decided we can" morality clause.

This artwork shows us that a title is everything. Now in all fairness, if you swapped out the artwork of this film with Morris the cat, it could look like the feline version of Inspector Gadget. This must be a fairly boring movie with what is apparently one adventure.

Major criticism: Too much fucia.

The Fly: The Opera - Stay For the Shotgun-to-the-Head Song

Arguably this week's most bizarre entertainment story, director David Cronenberg has taken his 1986 heartwarming tale of a mulleted scientist who splices his DNA with a housefly and morphs into a horny, limb-dissolving insectoid-erectus who enjoys nailing hookers and breaking the arms of bikers and turned it into a 75-piece orchestral masterpiece. Fronted by tenor Placido Domingo, the musical interpretation premiered this week in Paris, home of such little-known operas like La Boheme, La Traviata and Faust.

Move over Mozart and Puccini, the opera about the half-fly man who barfs up his saliva to disintegrate the ankles and hands of his rivals will be the show everyone talks about for centuries to come.

First Rule: You Do Not Talk about Hulk Club

Box office predictions for the weekend. Hmmmm, I'd say that The Incredible Fight Club will smash M. Night Shyamalan's What's Happenin'! Wait, The Mung Hour can cough up a better parody title than Incredible Fight Club. Here are some options:

The Green Transporter
Incredible History X
Supergreen
I Am Hulk's Raging Bile Duct

$55 million is a good bet for the Hulk. It has enough buzz going for it, but Hulk's big balls won't hang as impressively as Iron Man's or Indy's. This summer has shown us that a true blockbuster must include the ladies in attendance. Sex In the City notwithstanding, the reason that Iron Man debuted so large and hung on so long was the date factor. The fanboys were able to shore up dates. Dates that actually wanted to see this movie. No offense to Eddie Norton, but the girls don't wet their panties for him the way they do for Robert Downey Jr. and Terrence Howard slurping Grey Goose shots off strippers' tits on a private plane. Plus Kung Fu Panda holdovers will bite into it. Still, it should trounce M. Night's latest thrillbag. His film should tank in around $23 million. Monday morning, Michael Bay's Night Platinum Dunes office should be getting a humble phone call from him begging to direct the remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street.

Hanks Switches from Badger to Muskrat Wig For Da Vinci Sequel

This just in! Apparently still smarting from the cavalcade of criticism over the dead animal he stapled to his head for 2006's The Da Vinci Code, Tom Hanks has apparently released the subterranean dwelling vermin into the wild and glued a much tamer muskrat to his dome for the upcoming sequel Angels & Demons currently filming in Rome. No word on whether fellow badger abusers John Travolta and Steven Seagal will follow suit and let their own cranial critters scurry back to the forest from whence they came. Animal rights activists are hot on Hanks' trail nonetheless.

"We think it's a shame that a person of Mr. Hanks' stature would deliberately enslave a defenseless creature for the sole purpose of performing in a film," PETA spokesperson Ronald Barr said, "When you consider all the synthetic alternatives one could use for hair augmentation, it shouldn't matter if it's a land-bound or aquatic mammal. Animals should not be adhered to a human's head for vanity's sake."

God Loves George Clooney

By Special Mung Hour correspondant Double-S

I finally have to take umbrage with the otherwise brilliant idontlikeyouinthatway.com because it's clear that either 'Jenny' or 'Todd' simply doesn't understand what it is to be Clooney. Honestly, I can only dream of what it must be like, but I do know why the former Batman spent a year with an obvious skank.

One, he can presumably afford the best rubbers in the world. Two, it's evident she'd let him do anything to her for one more week of free room and board in one of his homes. Anything. You date Cameron Diaz or one of those snooty Victoria's Secret models, there will be limits. It's evident from the pictures of her that she'd have no trouble with:

"Look sweetheart, I just paid $4,000 at Christie's for Linda Harrison's costume from Planet of the Apes. I've thrown down some hay in the back of the garden shed. Put the rawhide panties on, go out there and take a nap and later, after I've had a few Grey Gooses and a Viagra, I'm going to come out and cornhole you while Richard Kind shoots us with a garden hose. Any problems with that?"

"No, George. That'll be fine."

Yeah, I'm sure the first two or three times Tom Brady peeled off Giselle Bunchen's panties, it was the kind of joy/terror the rest of us can only experience in the wake of surviving intense military combat. Now, TMZ follows the poor whipped bastard around and takes pictures of him buying Tampax for her.

You don't see a dejected Clooney shuffling around a Tarzana RiteAid at 8am on a Sunday praying some pap doesn't show up to snap him putting a jumbo box of Kotex on his platinum Amex. Why? Because he is Clooney and Clooney doesn't do that kind of shit. I'm sure you're thinking, "But, you haven't addressed why this Oscar winning actor/director would spend a year of his life with an obviously ignorant stripper/hooker/waitress."

Actually, I have. Though Tom Brady is twenty years younger, he spends all his time running for his life from Ray Lewis, Bridget Moynahan's lawyers, and Giselle's personal assistant. He's praying for death every time he lines up against the Pittsburgh Steelers, because he was too arrogant and stupid to man-ram anonymous tramps. Nope, he had to go all Romo and date famous actresses. Babyfaced bastard even impregnated one. If only Terry Bradshaw or Joe Montana could've intervened in time.

Meanwhile, George associates himself with the kind of woman he can leave handcuffed to a bed for three hours while he goes and plays a game of pick up basketball. At the end of the day, what's she gonna do? Leave him? Boo hoo. And once he's defiled her in every way possible, he calls James Woods to give him first dibs on sloppy seconds and proceeds to find a NEW skank!

RIP Skank Du Jour. See you in the pages of Penthouse or online at www.seewhatgeorgesaw.com.

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!"