Review of "Sherrybaby"

So,as I mentioned I would do, I did rush right out and rent "Sherrybaby" after I was so enamored with the many charms of Maggie Gyllenhaal after "Stranger Than Ficton". And then I let it sit without watching it for a week. That's how I am now the proud owner of the DVD's "Hustle and Flow" and "Cinderella Man", by the way. Blockbuster just assumed that at some point I must have mailed them back after they sat in my house for OVER THREE MONTHS without me watching them. I've since watched "Hustle and Flow", but a year and a half later, still haven't cracked open that "Cinderella Man". Somehow I just never find myself in the mood for a long-ass period piece about a boxer I've never ever heard of directed by Ron Howard. I wonder why that is?

On to the review...so I don't recommed "Sherrybaby" to any woman who enjoys fucking men. Because this movie will make you swear off the pole for good. If the scene where Maggie blows this disgusting fuck to get a better job placement doesn't do it, then the scene of her father smushing around her breasts like he's a toddler and they're play-dough when he's obstensibly trying to comfort her will. Yee-uck. Other than that, it's a delightful romp about a fucked-up molestation survivor trying to kick the junk and start anew after a stint in prison, despite the fact that no one's really nice to her and her young daughter doesn't love her anymore. Well, there is some completely unattractive barrel-chested American Indian who treats her kind of nicely, and also fucks her of course, but even though he's gross too, that one didn't even really register on the ick meter. This movie makes "Half Nelson" look like the feel-good movie of 2006. I don't even think I have a girl-crush on Maggie Gyllenhaal anymore, which is probably for the best because she really does kind of look like a beaver.

Review of "Half Nelson"

This was actually my second post on this here blog, but I mysteriously and accidentally deleted it. Well, the masses have been clamoring for me to bring it back (and by "the masses" I mean the two people who have read this thus far) so here it is, albeit slighty changed because I don't remember exactly what the old post said.

I had really high hopes for this movie, seeing as how it stars Ryan Gosling and is about a crack-addicted teacher of mainly African-American students. I mean, is somebody spying on me? It's like looking in a mirror, this movie! See what I did there, kids? I pretended that the movie was totally like my real life! Well, I hope you enjoyed that little joke because that was honestly the best part of the movie. Other than pretending throughout that I was a crack addict, and learning a fairly funny new knock-knock joke, I didn't actually enjoy it all that much.


I mean, yes, the writing was solid and the acting was pretty amazing. But just because I don't like movies where unbelievable stuff happens doesn't mean I'm all that fond of movies where there ain't shit that happens, either. And in this movie, ain't too much shit that happens, really. Teacher bonds with students while smoking crack recreationally, one student in particular. Teacher's drug habit gets out of control. Teacher pushes away those that love him and enters a shame spiral. Come on. In my house, we call that "January". See? I did it again. Most enjoyable part of the movie, I'm telling you.

Ranking the America's Next Top Model "winners"

I'm all about America's Next Top Model. It's terrible, but in a terrible way. Oops, I meant to say in a fun way...OR DID I?

Cycle One's winner was Adrienne Curry, who has now been so bastardized by the mighty Tyra that she is the only winner Tyra will never, ever, admit to. Too bad, because she was kind of hot, in a very Joliet, Illinois kind of way. She's for sure the hottest chick you'd buy your weed from if you lived in Joliet. But what the fuck was she so paranoid about, that she decided she HAD to marry Peter Brady ASAP? Lest her...twenty-two-year-old eggs go rotting away? I don't get it. That kind of insane drive to be married to anyone who will have you doesn't usually kick in until at least your late twenties, even in the Midwest.

Cycle Two brought us Yoanna House. This was the cycle when I first started watching the show, and I picked Yoanna as the rightful winner from the jump, due mainly to her insane cheekbones. And boy, was I vindicated when she not only went on to win the show, but was featured in a cover spread on...Psychology Today? And went on to star in a HOT fashion show held at...The Westfield Shopping Mall in Saint Louis? Sure shows that I missed my calling as a model scout.

Cycle Three was all about the Pigford. Miss Eva, if you're nasty. Again, she was my fave from the beginning. She's also arguably the most successful product to come out of the show, if you think about how she starred in a direct-to-video movie with Teck from the Real World Hawaill. Oh how I wish that was sarcasm, but seriously, what have any of the other winners accomplilshed that was more prestigious?

Cycle Four brought us down a notch with the crowning of the hirsute Naima. No, I don't know her last name, and no, I'm not going to look it up. Look, I have a lot of unwanted fur on my face too, but then again, no one's paying me to look pretty. Of course, no one's paying Naima to look pretty either, so I guess she gets the last laugh. Rock on, you furry-faced monkey.

Cycle Five saw the crowning of....fuck, was it Nicole, or Danielle? They've busted out so many cycles of this shit in such rapid succession that I honestly couldn't say. So, I'll just combine my comments for both. I think both of them were worthy winners, although neither were my original picks. Nicole IS kind of high fashion, if you squint real hard, and Dani(elle) IS pretty charming with her gap-toothed smile and her English mangling. Too bad I've never seen any of them in anything, ever, post show, save a photo of Dani on Go Fug Yourself at the NAACP Image Awards. Now THAT'S a resume high point.

Cycle Seven was won by Caridee English. I believe her recent "My Life As a Cover Girl" spot said it all, where she was shown being primped by the Heatherette designers so she could....sit in the audience at their fashion show. I mean, DAMN....how unsuccessful do you have to be when corporate sponsers of the show that crowned you their winner are like, "Well, I guess we'll let her COME to the show if you give us some free ad time." But I did just see her on TMZ being all slobbered over by Michelle Rodriguez, so there's that, I guess. Her big rival Melrose got manhandled by the Piv on Golden Globes night though, so I'm still gonna cry sad sorry bridesmaid on that one.

Soo....America's Next Top Model is batting about a .000 percentage on actually discovering current and relevant models. Good thing I keep watching!

Musings on American Idol, with 10 of these hillbillies left

First, I would like to state that only a few of the remaining contestants actually fit the term "hillbillies" (Chrises Richardson and Sligh, I'm looking at you), as this season has seen a suprising dearth in the number of southern gents and ladies that usually steamroll right over the hipper, blue state contestants, but I just think the word hillbillies is hilarious and I hereby envoke my right to use it whenever possible, accurate or no.

Second, I would like to publicly air my not-popular opinion that Sanjaya Malakar is not the worst contestant this contest has ever seen. People, are we forgetting the "J's" of season one, both EJ and RJ? Sure, EJ Day was rightfully given Das Boot in a quickness, but RJ Helton was the first season's number 5 finisher. He was a gay robot with no rhythm, who actually FELL OFF THE STAGE DURING REHEARSAL. Sure, the stage was smaller in those less heady times, but still...I'm no pro, but I'm pretty sure I could refrain from TUMBLING TO THE GROUND were I ever asked to sing in public. And let's not forget that Nikki McKibbin, cute to be sure, but certainly no vocal wunderkind, finished third that season. I ain't even going to touch on Justin Guarini's second place finish, because I still to this day think he's talented and cute. Yeah, I said it.

Season two brought us the Mormon treat of Carmen Rasmussen, or "Goat Girl" to her many non-fans. Remember her? That was back when Simon was convinced that us Americans wouldn't vote for any fatties or Blackies, so he picked her as his wild card. I guess the thinking was that America would go wild for a blonde "good girl" who could naughty herself up with copious amounts of lipgloss, but no amount of sheen in the world was going to make that throaty vibrato any less henious. I believe she finished in about 7th place.

Season three featured the Hawaiian charms of both Camille Valasco and Jasmine Trias. Jasmine was kind of up and down, and occasionally gave a halfway decent performance, but if that was the third best in a season that included the J-Hud and LaToya London, I'll eat my hat. And Camille? Oh, Camille. Picture a 19-year-old stoner with a real rough and cracked-out voice donning terry cloth wristbands and getting up on a stage to croon in front of millions. Now make her real nervous and sweaty, not to mention actually stoned at the time, but not in a fun way, in a paranoid way. That was Camille Valasco.

I'm not going to go on, but just to reiterate my point, I'll ask you to recall that I haven't even touched on Kevin "Chicken Little" Covais, John Paul "I'm all nervous and ginger" Stephens, The Pen Salesman, who was so fucking boring that his name eludes me, Corey f'in Clark, and Scott Savol, and I hope I've made the point that Sanjaya Malakar sticking around for a few more weeks isn't exactly out of the norm for this show.

Movie Review "Stranger Than Fiction"

First, let me start this inaugural post by stating that I am aware that movie titles should be italicized, or failing that, underlined, instead of the quotes I did above. I don't quite know yet how to work all the doodads and the hoo-has, so get your britches out of a bunch, grammar nazis. In the immortal words of Oprah, "I did better when I knew better", so if one of you fancy techno-types want to teach me how to make my titles grammatically correct, I will be a better blogger. Until then, take my ignorance as kindness. I don't know what that means. ON TO THE FIRST MOVIE REVIEW OF MY VERY IMPORTANT BLOG:

"Stranger Than Fiction" (sic...see above) was a fer piece more decent than I was expecting, considering all of the middling-to-negative reviews, the shitty box office, and the fact that Will Ferrell has willingly become a monkey-for-hire in some of the more shitastic comedies to be released in the last few years. It has one of those cutsey, unbelievable premises that normally make my skin crawl, but since this unbelievable premise was right in my slipshoot--the writing of books--it didn't bother me. In other words, I bought the movie's conceit, that Will Ferrell's character was himself a character in a book penned by Emma Thompson, and he didn't want her to kill him off because his life was finally perking up, what with the sex with Maggie Gyllenhaal's funky baker character and all. I liked all the literary "in-jokes", mainly delivered by Dustin Hoffman, which presumed that the audience could read. Very kind of them to presume that, thought I. And that Maggie Gyllenhaal...I used to think she was the ug's, but I'm starting to get her appeal. Her appeal is...I'm not supermodel, or even conventional movie star hot, but if I was the girlfriend of one of your friends, between my baby blues and my muscular yet feminine biceps, you'd be wanting to bone me. I like that...the movies acknowledging that even somewhat attractive folks get laid too, as opposed to the normal message of: "Sex is for the hotties only--you chubbos or thin-haired assholes better get used to masturbating." Because let's face it, the best a real life Will Ferrell is going to do is a real life Maggie Gyllenhaal, like, she'd be at the TOP of his game, so I'm glad the movie didn't insult the audience by casting, say, Jessica Biel or Eva Mendes as the love interest, when in real lilfe she'd be like, "Don't fucking touch me, you hairy man!" Anyway, all this is a very roundabout way of saying that I now think I officially love Maggie Gyllenhaal, like I'm going to rush right out and rent "Sherrybaby" kind of love. And no, I'm not kidding. Suffice it to say, she was very believable and charming in her role.

Not as believable, or charming, was one MIss Emma Thompson, although I fault the writing more than her, but I do fault her a little bit. Her character was far-fetched, and one-note. The "writer" as "neurotic chain smoker". NOW THAT'S something I've never seen before! And as badly written as the character was, I have to say that I think Emma made it worse with her over-acting. Like, the whole movie's supposed to be unbelievable, so let's not exacerbate the issue by totally doing up every struggling writer cliche that ever existed.

Bottom line...charming movie. Maggie's great. Quirky enough that you'll forgive its weaknesses. I rate it a "You did your thing, dog" and I will use another post real soon to explain my rating system so you can come to my site again and again and learn and learn.