America The Beautiful

You are fat.  You are ugly.  You are fat.  You are ugly.  This is the message that is ingrained by the media blitz preached by conglomerates and all things that make YOU look MORE BEAUTIFUL in their print and various media sermons.

The film is a series of interviews with vanity itself.  Its peddlers at fashion magazines and agencies, the minions at Fashion Week, the beautiful people of celebrity status, and the few that look into a mirror stared back by the ugly truth brought on by figments of an imagination of souls spurned by a media hypnosis.  Darryl Roberts searches the opinions on both sides of the issue and finds an interesting cast of varied individuals.

The audience is treated to an interesting take on the world of fashion and beauty.  One of the subjects in the film is a 12 year old girl who became something of an overnight success whose success was limited to overnight by a mother who lived vicariously through her daughter and appointed her as a monster in which a school principal and the good people in the fashion world sooner would cut relations than carry on any form of communication.

By watching this we learn of a serious problem that we as a nation suffer.  Numerous girls that adhere to the commercial messages that thin is best are bags of bones by the time the coroner gets them.  Girls as young as five begin to diet as older women in their quest for beauty ponder plastic surgery.  Older women in this case are actually teenaged females assisted by their reprehensible parents that allow for doctors with little or no experience place their non-board certified plastic surgeon hands on them to insert breast implants and remove whatever for reasons that do not warrant any sensibility or medical need.

Beauty is not only suggested it is mandatory.  Daryl interviews a group of vain creatures that are part of a website in which the public rates submitted picture of individuals as to their level of attractiveness that determines their acceptance or rejection to be part of their beautiful cyber community.  Daryl is a nice looking man, obviously intelligent and determined, seems personable, with, as Anthony Kiedis told him, has a beautiful handshake.  So, the director that will not be mistaken for an Armani model puts up a profile and is rejected to hobnob among this group of beautiful people.

Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson give concocted answer to the question, “What is Beauty?”  The slut and the one with the huge breasts both endorse products and sell themselves to the public by dolling themselves up and become part of the machine that is in question here.  Neither of the two could find it in themselves to reveal their truthful answers.  One mumbled something about confidence, I think, and the other…what does it matter what they claim to think.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  Societies eyes see differently from vantage points across the globe. Eve Ensler, author of “The Vagina Monologues”, retells an animated tale of a dialogue she had with a woman in Africa.  The lady was taken aback by the questioning if she liked her body.  The woman praised her limbs and gave an interesting anecdote about human bodies analogous to trees.  Are far off places immune to the beauty epidemic?  An interviewee stated that in Fiji the introduction of television had begun to make drastic changes to their sociological views in only three short years.

Revelations are made that the FDA ignores chemicals within cosmetics that are quite dangerous that have adverse health effects on mothers and their offspring.  The film cites the European Union as safeguarding their citizens from such containments to the point where a figure of about 400 ingredients are prohibited as opposed to six or so banned by the FDA.  As suspected, the money hawkers from the cosmetic industry defend their position and a list of companies that banded together to stop a government investigation into banning such ingredients is exposed.

With stories of death, graphic clips of surgery, facts and tidbits, and the saga of a 12 year old girl with a 6 foot frame and 96 cm hips that are considered too big by French fashion standards for the sake of saving money on fabric, America the Beautiful shows the ugly side of greed and distorted views from a mirror.

Heavy Metal in Baghdad

What was once the cultural and educational center of the world is now a demolished shell at the hands of cruelty only capable by the spoils of political barbarism.  Aside from the propaganda, censored news reports, and images that cheerfully depict a happily democratic people, within this city are innocent people that must live in a state of justified fear, abandon their homes and heritage and seek refuge in other places only to be treated and viewed as unwanted vermin.  Within this mass of a brutalized faceless nation is a group of young men that want to realize their dreams and bang their heads with a legion of fans.

This documentary was five years in the making before it was released.  It chronicles the band Acrassicauda, the only heavy metal band in Baghdad.  Eddy Moretti and Suroosh Alvi traveled to Iraq a few times with a keen interest as to the bands safety and evolvement during a time when bombs and chaos rule their habitat.  It is a look into the music as well as a culture during a time of uncertainties and the unique circumstances that dictated the filming of this incredible journey and documentary.

The original members Firas (bass), Tony (lead guitar), Marwan (drums), Faisal (rhythm guitar) and Waleed (lead vocals) were brought up on Metallica, Mageadeth, Sepelutra, among other metal bands. The guys in the band learned to speak English from music and movies.

As in the United States, some in Baghdad views metal with a sneer and a religious cultural panic due to the long hair and artwork on shirts.  However, things are a just a tad different and the rules for putting on a show while Saddam was in power is something remarkable.

At that time, the band applied with a government agency to perform in a public forum.  During the concert it was required that they play a song showing great respect to Saddam Hussein.  The show goes on with the newly written song sung to lyrics in praise of their political leader.  The band scoffs at it conveying that it was totally lame but one must appease the powers.

The detracting factor for metal concerts was the headbanging.  For those of you unfamiliar with the term, headbanging is the art of swaying ones head forward and back allowing the long tentacles of hair to move about in furious motion.  This bodily movement was leered upon since it resembles someone involved in Jewish prayer.

Of another concern are the skulls and symbols typical of artwork depicted on metal T-shirts.  Deemed threatening as viewed by the universally pedantic who cower at the “demonic” overtones.

Even with these restraints and demands, Acrassicauda was able to perform.  Once Saddam was out of the picture, a brief moment presented itself with the possibility to play gigs and pursue a musical career.  Unexpectedly, the tide turned and the band members found themselves in an even worse predicament then previous.  Bombs, kidnappings, curfews, and feelings of unrest and paranoia had seized the country as five regular guys from Baghdad with no political ties or beliefs akin to the popular news reports of religious fanaticism were living in a world of death and destruction subjected to the onslaught of anarchy and American branded democracy in search of just one dream.  Music.

For one, Waleed, the vocalist, the dream was thrown to the wayside in search of another dream, one of survival.  He was the first of the original five to abandon his burnt out homeland and find a securer existence.

The landscape is put into proper perspective by the journey taken by Eddy and Suroosh.  The pair part New York and travel the troubled and dangerous path to Baghdad.  Visas can be obtained at the border of Iraq and Kuwait.  Suroosh reads a journalists harrowing account of the corkscrew landing that a plane must make when landing in Baghdad.  In Iraq donning flak jackets and given orders as to how to conduct oneself, Eddy and Suroosh are told that they will be shot at.  (Kind of makes one wince and return home with tail tucked between legs.)  But these two drudge on.  With a security team composed of armored vehicles, lots of guns toted by men who were once butcher, bakers, and doctors, they motorcade in swerving motions down the seven mile stretch of highway from the airport to their location in Baghdad that is known as the most dangerous stretch on earth.

During this trip a show is attempted to be staged. Paperwork and lots of luck get the show set at one location.  The building is barricaded and encircled by military personnel.  Security for the show requires a search and valid identification.  The day of the show, the fans are turned away because of a misunderstanding brought on by the distrusting look of the few dozen or so youth that are wearing typical black T-shirt with Metallica logo and such.  Once resolved the show goes on in front of a jubilant group of moshing metalheads until a power outage and then back on again.  All involved had a good time letting loose listening to music that afforded them temporary reprieve from the atrocities that await outside the tear laden desertscape with enough time to attempt a safe return home before curfew.

Logistically, the scope of two Americans visiting Iraq is immense.  One band member remarked that it was rather stupid to go on such an adventure.  These two not only jeopardized their well being but also irritated their hired guards by attempting to push the boundaries of safety by filming in an open area off the highway in which an ambush or kidnapping could have taken place.  Immediately deploying from the locale, they were stopped and questioned by the police.  The problem is that the police may have been actually a militia in police vehicles and clothing looking to hatchet or hold them all prisoner.  Another factor occurred that strengthens the saying, “Hell is paved with good intentions.”  The filming of the band now has placed each one of the members in direct harm.

Walking and gallivanting about town is dangerous and lethal.  Speaking English will get you killed.  When the car with Eddy and Suroosh is driven and protected by Iraqi men pulls up to a barricaded street, Firas must get in the car with them to avoid any possible harm being seen with such people.  They pass by the band’s rehearsal space in a residential area that was recently victim to a missile attack.  They cannot stop and nose around so Firas provides a video of his footage.  The outrage and sorrow of an assault on the sacred place that represented the hope of a future in music has been destroyed and the monumental devastation is evident on the shattered bassist’s face and speech.  This is a man with a wife and child clinging to a daily existence in a place that is the skeleton of a society.

A few years later the guys meet up with the band in Syria, a bastion for Iraqis.  The camera shows us a graveyard for the mass of unknown Iraqis that is just two minutes form the gateway in which they enter Syria.  These people are refugees in Syria.  Firas earns $100 a month for 7 days a week slave wage.  Tony works and also teaches guitar.  The group lives in a windowless basement room with no heat.  They are at wits end.  It is safer than Iraq but life is still hell on earth.

There is no metal scene in Damascus.  It is a do or die for the band.  A show is setup.  The show begins with a few cover songs and climaxes with original Acrassicauda.  The band is well received and for the group hope still lingers.  They have a fan by the name of Mike who is Syrian that wears his metal regalia proudly.

Eddy and Suroosh are put to the challenge.  Were they true in their outstretched hands and hearts to help these guys?  With nothing to live for and with no other career opportunities, would the American and the Canadian ante up the much-needed monetary aide and record their album.  Behold, two chain smoking Syrians that never recorded anything like a metal band record three songs in three days at the filmmakers’ expense in a musical humanitarian effort.

After watching this I could not help but ask if there is anyway that anyone can help rescue these people from demise.  Watching these talented guys left behind to fend for themselves in an area where it would be decades before any conceivable return to a normal existence is possible.  No longer are these guys just nameless people on the news that have been dealt a bad hand.  This is the power that film wields.  Plucked from obscurity by two guys from New York a humanitarian effort should be underway to save these men.

So what of the status today?  Two years after the release of Heavy Metal in Baghdad, all I will say is that Part 2 is due.  You should not go into this film knowing anything about them today.  I sincerely wish these guys live the rock n’ roll lifestyle with all the wealth and luxuries and grace of God bestowed upon them.

Paranormal Activity

This film jolts you.  Watch this alone and be sure that all of the lights out.  Get through the first 25 minutes of home video and you are well on your way to getting spooked.

This film is possible due to prosumer handheld cameras and the imagination of writer/director Oren Peli and the cast that he found on Craigslist.  The film that cost around $11,000.00 to make has earned over $100 Million.  It is The Blair Witch Project of this decade.

Paranormal Activity is not gore, slasher, bloated budgeted horror coated with comedic moments and interjected with sly comments.  It is not a deranged maniac set loose with a band of special effects artists nearby to give us gruesome carnal delights.  No.  This is where the road to horror should lead you; frights with goose bumps and the occasional blurting of expletives.

Its opening thanks authorities at a local police department for this footage and we are treated to meeting the couple, learn who and what they are all about, and their dilemma.  Katie is a graduate student and Micah is a day trader in which he stays at home in their modest two floor home with in ground pool in Southern California.   Micah’s personality has much to be desired and at times you may question why she stays with this guy who is demonstrative of his uncaring for her concerns.  Katie, with all of her shrilling and tears, is much more serious and a stronger individual who is the main focus of the “being” that haunts the household.

Katie invites a man who specializes in such paranormal activities to investigate their home and is met with Micah’s amiable hostility.  Katie explains that she has been haunted her entire life by this thing that has now resurfaced after years free from it.  With haste the specialist flees referring them to a demonologist.

The video camera is the tool used by Micah to observe the nightly goings on as the two sleep.  Of course, the childlike Micah uses the camera to annoy his girlfriend in the bathroom and wishes to tape bedroom activities that she whole-heartedly refutes.  The camera acts as a surveillance cam and then things start slowly happening before the home becomes sanctity for the unholy.

The surveillance footage works because the audience is the silent observer as the couple is observed by something invisible in which they lay prostrate and are as defenseless as the audience to do something about it.  When Micah operates the camera we get his perspective.  Toward the finale, when what occurs downstairs is only heard and not seen (because this is the very first time that he does not take the camera with him) it is horrifying to not witness it and the effect works.  The final scenes of surveillance video are dramatic and can stand on its own against any multi-shot finely edited horror production.

My only gripe is that the “raw footage” at the beginning could have been more interesting and the scene with the Ouiji Board was a little too over the top.  Since this was a no budget film, the director must have wanted to add something to entice the film festival people and give it more productions value.  With such a film the Ouiji Board scene was not needed, the film works on its own merit.

This film is refreshing as it demonstrates that there is talent out there working on micro-budgets and with people whose resumes are mostly blank pages.  The Hollywood process will continue to make shlock with obscene amounts of cash and ignore said talent.  Will Paranormal Activity 2 fall victim to the system or will the brilliance of  Oren Peli shine once again?

Katie Featherston and Micah Sloat were believable throughout.  For two actors that have absolutely no screen credit prior to this it must be mind bending for them that their box office receipts are much more than many actors’ lifetimes.

It is unbelievable that these people stayed in the house and when the demonologist is out of town, why didn’t they call a priest, rabbi, sheikh, monk, or isn’t the Church of Satan in California?   Indeed, when what happens happens, the result is truly jarring.  Any film that makes you ponder over it a few days after seeing it is truly worth it.

Confessions Of A Shopaholic

Shopping is America’s favorite activity.  In what other country do unemployed individuals careen through a department store hours before the first break of light trampling one another to get something for the bloated commercialism of holidays that are supposedly religious celebrations?  Confessions Of A Shopaholic exemplifies the excess in American culture and also dampens any serious writers plan of a career because the it demonstrates that the only way to land a coveted position at a major publication is to be an attractive woman with big breasts and tickle the fancy of a power that be and through calamity can become America’s Sweetheart.  It is a funny totally ridiculous premise that would not be a total waste of time when it is on the boob tube as you partake in that other great American activity, channel surfing.

This film was nominated for a Teen Choice Award.  So you get the picture of the highbrow caliber that this movie strives to be.  Isla Fisher is the lead and is the only redeeming element in this predictable comedy that uses that safety net Hollywood employs in comedy: drama that should compel and tear at the heart.

Isla is Rebecca Bloomwood, a young urban professional that has a roommate Suze (Krysten Ritter) who she is always behind in the rent to because of her out of control spending habit for a need of items of fashion such as scarves, shoes, Gucci, and things with names of Europeans.  Rebecca yearns for job writing at a fashion magazine rather than her current role as a journalist for a gardening magazine.  Rebecca finds out that the recently hired Alicia Billington (Leslie Bibb) holds the coveted position from information revealed by the receptionist at the mega-conglomerate publication and advises her to find employment at any magazine under this corporate giant and work her way to her dream.  It just so happens that a financial publication is interviewing that very moment and this effeminate gentleman is so kind as to admit the fashion savvy Rebecca through the glass doors.

A previous scene of hilarity reunites Rebecca and the man on the street that turns out to be the interviewer at the financial publication.  After a faux pas, the interview is over which is followed by the roommates concocting a letter writing session in which the notes are addressed to the wrong recipients.  One goes to the fashion magnate at Alette Magazine’s Alette Naylor (Kristin Scott Thomas) and the other to her interviewer Luke Brandon (Hugh Dancy).  And as easy as pie, Rebecca lands a trial position at the financial magazine and is of course over her head but pulls off a terrific feat and is now butting heads with Alicia of the fashion magazine who finds her boss Luke simply delectable.  In Rebecca’s personal life, she has joined a shopaholic group, is attempting to manage her finances and tries desperately to evade the evil villainous debt collector Derek Smeath.  In the end, everything is nicely resolved and Rebecca’s parents, John Goodman and Joan Cusack, are so elated that their little girl made good.

All of this sounds like an elaborate bad screenplay from my screenwriting class in college.  But yes, it has made its way to 2,534 theaters.  With Isla Fisher in a relationship with maestro Sacha Baron Cohen, he should have been employed to rewrite this.  Isla’s comedic talents are well proven in this film and look forward to seeing her in truly well written films.

Precious

What we have here is essentially a play that is horribly directed.  Two actresses dominate the screen in knockout performances that must thwart the amateurish directorial choices in a film of such low aesthetic quality.  Big name musical talent is cast that suspends all cinematic illusion when they first appear on screen and one says, “Look, its Mariah Carey without make-up.”  A bleak look into the struggles of one girl’s silent pain and her mad creature of a mother that clenches her daughter’s hand down a path of self-annihilation is a masterful tale that would have deservingly won numerous Best Picture awards had it not been for director Lee Daniels.

The Oprah machine must be churning out her political power to get her film kudos in every category.  Ensemble cast nominations are laughable.  Directing awards and all the accompanying accolades for Lee Daniels is ludicrous.  Mo’Nique and Gabourey Sidibe deserve the highest honors. Geoffrey Fletcher is deserving of an Oscar for the adaptation of the horrid book Push by Sapphire written in an offshoot of the English language

Mariah Carey plays a social worker.  It is a role that doesn’t require much skill that questions the much uncalled for hoopla over Carey.  Is she without make-up or is she made to look like that?  That is what came to mind.  So, it’s not Glitter with Carey all made up in Victoria’s Secret shaking it in the bag that she could not act her way out of.  On the flipside, Lenny Kravitz is a male nurse of the nurturing sort and in true Kravitz fashion is always cool and has an appealing onscreen persona.

Mo’Nique is Precious’ mother.  The beast’s consternating rhetoric continually forges and fortifies a timidity in a woman who is functioning at sub-standard levels and dishes out blame to her helpless child that lives dormant in a paralyzing state of fear, anguish, and self-loathing whose daydream fantasies offer her temporary flight from the heinous rigor of life’s cruelties.

Precious needs to accept who she really is and flourish into her own woman.  This means getting an education and fleeing from her abusive mother.  Her father is the father to her two children. Her mother is of the lowest common denominator, a welfare apartment dweller who debases her daughter and is repellent to everyone including her retarded granddaughter with the exception of the phony front she puts on for the social workers that send this woman monthly checks so that she may remain a beastly shut-in smoking cigarettes, eating pigs feet, and watching television incessantly.

Precious is a large student who is sixteen years old and still in junior high with one child that lives with the grandmother and with another on the way.  Educators that care see that the reclusive youth excels at math and is in desperate need of an alternative education.  At home, Precious is berated by her mother when the principal buzzes the bell, is restricted entry, and attempts to prod Precious into accepting an education at an alternative school.  The despondent girl irks her mother by this as the only important factor is for Precious to make sure that the white woman from the school does not interfere with her Welfare and that her daughter gets herself down to the Welfare office and stop thinking that she is better than her own mom.

The pregnant girl reluctantly goes to the new class and from here her life starts anew with more crushing bad news, the birth of her second child and the final escape from the entrapments of her family as she flourishes with her new “surrogate” family.  Along the way we are treated to the atrocities in which she has endured and the new tragic tribulations that embroil her path to a life of possibility, hope, and self worth.

Mo’Nique’s performance.  The actress is bare and all of this emotion is flooding the screen.  There is heartfelt sorrow and disgust.  The character is as vile in her silence as her boyfriend’s perverted soul.  At this moment in the social worker’s cubicle nothing else exists in the world.  It’s the tears, it’s the gasping, and it is the audacity of this woman to blame her daughter for her boyfriend’s sickness.  This is a cinematic moment that showcases the actor and heightens the film.  And it’s ruined.  The purity is adulterated with ridiculous zooming camera movements and cuts to Mariah Carey’s character.  Why?  This is direction?

The unobtrusive camera has a place.  The unnoticed edit is valuable.  Walter Murch would most likely have slapped the editor and director for such amateurish choices.  For example, Precious is taking a test and as she circles her choice for an answer, the shot is sped up and then slowed down.  For what reason?

Take a film with really low production value with talent that has made a future in Hollywood. Gabourey Sidibe is so talented and should mature into this actor’s caliber.  The perfect example is Madigan’s Million with Dustin Hoffman, an unknown actor at the time.  There is simple use of camera set-ups.  Be it that everything is terrible in the Hoffman film, but the simple camera techniques should have been employed to cement the cinematic illusion.

The Deauville Film Festival had a choice to make.  Present the Jury Special Prize to Cary Fukunaga, the director of Sin Nombre or to Lee Daniels.  Fukunaga is a director and writer that is of Scorsese caliber.  I would like to know what occurred in France that night when Daniel was presented with the honor.  What a mistake.

Since Precious is a film with black roles and black individuals at the helm, it may be looked at through rose-colored glasses by some.  In this country, there still is a limited number of “black films.”  Make more of these films.  However, enough with the stupid films starring Cedric the Entertainer!  But, to highly regard Precious as the best?  No.

As previously stated, dazzle Mo’Nique and Gabourey ‘Gabby’ Sidibe with praises for exceptionality.  Best director?  No way.

There is a black director that is consistent with innovative approaches to filmmaking along with his honest views and stories that hit the social arena hard who has never been properly applauded.  That man is Spike Lee.  Why is he shunned?  In the early 90’s a college graduate from USC was written about as if he was the next Orson Welles.  Director John Singleton’s major film debut was Boyz n the Hood.  Spike Lee was never regarded in such a manner at that time when Jungle Fever was released a month before Singleton’s film and he had already directed: Mo’ Better Blues (1990), Do the Right Thing (1989), School Daze (1988), and She’s Gotta Have It (1986).  Spike was nominated for a Screenwriting Oscar for Do the Right Thing.  He has also been nominated and has won several times awards for his work at the Acapulco Black Film Festival, American Black Film Festival, BET Comedy Awards, Black Movie Awards, and the Image Awards among others.  Good for Spike but I have no clue as to what most of these are.  Does Oprah not like Spike and will not weave him from her publicity machine?

With the award season a few months from full swing, hopefully Mo’Nique and Sidibe get their due as well as Geoffrey Fletcher and the others categories respectfully shun the rest of Precious, a good film that should be left at that.

Crips and Bloods: Made in America

Los Angeles has been written about and filmed as the land in which dreams come true.

The masses have migrated for the open space, clean living, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.  It is where the silver screen projects to the world and Mickey Mouse founded its home.  Nestled in this area bustling to the brim with tycoons and starlets, expensive shops, and beaches with beautiful lifeguards is a war zone.  It’s called South Central LA.

Stacy Peralta’s latest documentary is never boring and moves fluidly, much like Peralta’s former days as a champion skateboarder.   His previous film dealt with surfing entitled Riding Giants released in 2004 and the film in which he won the Audience Award and Directing Award in the documentary category at Sundance, Dogtown and Z-Boys (2001), chronicled the 1970s Zephyr skating team.  Now he tackles the subject of American gangs, the crips and the bloods, born and bred here.

When Michael Moore stood at a corner in South Central in Bowling for Columbine to conduct an interview, he attempted to prove his point that the American media sensationalizes the threat of America’s black youth and the dangers of South Central by not getting shot during mid-day.  Stacy Peralta goes deep into the area with those that live it and prove that this indeed is a breeding ground of turmoil and a place where babies are borne unto gang colors.

Watching television back in 1992, the LA riots raged on as the city burned.  I watched as a white truck driver was dragged from the cab and beaten with a brick by black men.  The news repeatedly played this video and the footage of a black man beaten by a group of white Los Angeles police officers.  Is this the media sensationalizing the LA riots?

Stacey Peralta searches for who and what created the gangs.  Many issues are muddled and there may not be a defining truth that is black and white, although the creation of these two LA gangs is clearly a black and white race issue.  Testimony is given in the film as to the Boy Scouts of America in LA having no place for black children.  Black kids could not belong to anything that white America ruled in a prejudicial manner.  Black groups were created that gave kids an identity, a feeling of belonging and a way to have fun together.  Call to mind the events depicted in American Graffiti as kids cruise around joyriding on a weekend night.  Even though American Graffiti is set in Modesto, 300 miles north of Los Angeles, there are no main black characters.  Had the setting been Los Angeles, there still would have been no black characters.  The reason is found in Peralta’s film through a geography lesson of a city in which there were no bathrooms or water drinking fountains for “colored” but there were contractual clauses in building and land development.  An imaginary line separated the whites from the blacks in Los Angeles.  The imaginary line is Alameda Avenue.  The policy was: The whites don’t venture west and the blacks don’t venture east.  And when the black kids did nothing more than what the white kids did, the LAPD’s policy was to stop black motorist and beat them.

The circumstances surrounding one of these typical traffic stops are documented in a segment with photos, archival footage, animation, and eyewitness accounts of what became known as the Watts Riot.  The riot begins on August 11, 1965, as a California Highway Patrol motorcycle officer pulls over Marquette Frye.  Marquette, failing a sobriety test is detained and the officer does not allow Frye’s brother Ronald to drive the car home.  The vindictive police officer eventually arrests both brothers and their mother.  The mob is violent and the boiling point is reached.

Onscreen, the recollections and reasoning are spoken with gruffness, and with some, hostility that has yet to subside.  One person explains that this was not a riot because they knew what they were doing.  With the National Guard’s involvement, it did take six days for the riots to die.  Kumasi, a very vocal and telling soul in the film explains that his generation was not going to lie down like their parents had.  He sums up the daily dietary intake that nourished their bodies and souls as a, “a spoonful of hate.”  None of the interviewees are in search of atonement. Not a single person in this film apologizes for what they have done or had been a part of.  They adhere to the stance that they did not create this problem.  Peralta’s film upholds their argument.

We learn of a people migrating far from their southern roots.  The black masses worked in Los Angeles and populated the areas that were designated in the racial city planning. According to those in the film, various groups and car clubs from different areas such as Slauson Park and Compton had sprung up.  Coupled with a constant barrage of disparaging remarks and violent acts perpetrated by the LAPD and the onset of poverty, these were the problems that germinated the seeds of gang creation.  The car clubs and such made way for gangs and eventually the gangs feuded with one another.  Gang activity eventually becomes an assault on society.

When the economy failed and employment ceased, this led way to dilapidated housing and failed educational systems.  This eternal vortex of life of meager means has incubated a failed society for decades that is inked in red and blue on a city grid to determine what gang rules where.

Pictures of those speaking in the film in their days of gang banging provide the necessary images to demonstrate that this is a way of life.  We learn that children are actually fathered into gangs.  Just as union workers got their children their own union cards, fathers bring their children into a lifestyle with colors and signs.  The baby blues and pinks are replaced by bandana blue and bandana red.  In this area, a young boy doesn’t show off his new Ipod or shiny new bike.  What he does is set off a few rounds of his new gun and saunter down the block strutting his status.

Through childhood photos, Peralta attempts to humanize the gang members.  It would be pointless to see the groups that he is trying to help as monsters or murderers.  The babies are innocent to the circumstances around them and beam with happiness in the photos.  These are the human beings soon to be faced the problems of youth in South Central that their fathers faced, and as this viscous cycle continues, the same problems they will spawn for future generations.

Gang members die and non-gang members die.   In a strictly propagandist move, the director has individual women stare into the camera shedding tears for the men, the boys, the family, that they have lost due to gang violence.  If these images can’t move you, you are emotionally dead.  The names of the dead ring loudly in our head as the screen projects the gore that has become the fate for some estimated 15,000.   These numbers are so staggering that they even surpass some international wars.

The film does not put into perspective the scope of the crips and bloods standing in the league of world gangs.  Perhaps Perlta should have done so to scare the powers that be to actually attempt to correct the problem.  With such information, it was quite possible that he could have successfully shocked and awed influential persons into getting involved either through their own initiative or with the numerous organizations that take part in the film that are listed on its website (www.cripsandbloodsthemovie.com).  The documentary points out that there was an economic pledge to help the city with an effort known as Rebuild LA after the riots.  For unspecified reasons, the effort fell to the wayside.

This film provokes thought and concern.  So I did some research and found some pertinent information.  Can gangs garner substantial power that should cause society to shudder with fear behind barred windows and locked doors?  Gang warfare is seen on television as problems in third world nations.  Numerous gangs exist in Central and South America.  Look at the gang violence in City of God.  The infamous PCC stems from Brazil.  But how much power does this gang wield?  The PCC carries enough weight to have actually shut São Paulo down.  Can the crips and bloods rise to such ranks in America?  Do we want them to?

Much like the rise of the Italian Mafia, the origins of these gangs stem from lack of protection and a need to organize and govern themselves from injustice.  According to José Wilson Miranda, he wrote in a Brazilian publication that, “The PCC started on August 31, 1993, in a prison of Taubaté, a city in the interior of São Paulo. Their main goals at the time were to “fight oppression” and avenge the death of 111 prisoners, who were massacred by the police on October 2, 1992, after a riot in the Carandiru penitentiary in São Paulo.”

The bloods and crips are not the only gangs in Los Angeles.  Another gang that exists is the Mara Salvatrucha 13 (MS-13) that has been cited as America’s most violent gang.  Various news agencies have reported that the MS-13 originated to protect Salvadorian immigrants from other Mexican and African-American gangs.

While I was searching the Internet, I came across several Los Angeles gangs that have their own websites and blogs.   Reaching out to alleviate the gang problem and help those in need is the point of the film.  Appearing in the film is football great and actor Jim Brown.  As a social activist, his organization Amer-I-Can reaches out to those in low economic, high crime areas.  Just as easy as it is to contact one of these gangs online, it’s just as easy to contact Amer-I-Can.

There are no police commissioners, no officers, no LA officials that answer any charges.  I am sure it would have been interesting to hear their side.  Is former LA Police Chief Daryl Gates who tenured the 1992 LA riot unavailable or did he decline the invitation?  Did the production not choose to include such people?  With a running time of 93 minutes, there is time to incorporate them.

Noticeably absent from the film are LA residents that came from the area and have made it in the entertainment industry.  O’Shea Jackson known as Ice Cube from N.W.A. expressed the situation with the LP Straight Outta Compton with songs entitled, “Fuck Tha Police“, “Gangsta Gangsta” and his solo effort “AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted“.  Tracy Lauren Marrow, known as Ice-T came to LA from Newark, NJ as a pre-teen and lived the street life as a jewel thief and a pimp before being a monumental influence in hip-hop.  His song “Cop Killer” sums up his feelings.  Both men have gone on to have successful film careers.

Peralta’s film is well shot, crafted, and researched.  It is a film that takes a stand and could actually make a difference.  I am sure it was tough harnessing the various directions and topics.  Not all questions are answered.  I still do not understand what the beating of the white truck driver during the ’92 LA riot has to do with the police beating of the black motorist?  What does looting have to do with being angry and fighting for your rights?  With an economic depression possibly greater than the one of the 1920’s looming and with our nation’s first African-American President in office, just how will this shape the future of the plight of the South Central black male?

Sin Nombre

God Bless America.  Trainloads of people head north to the border with the assistance of coyotes to reach Texas and to states as far north as New Jersey to an escape that exalts promises of a better tomorrow.  Has God forsaken Mexico and its southern neighbors?

Welcome to Mexico.  Juxtaposed against this beautiful landscape is something sinister.  Its inhabitants make a run for the Promised Land to the north and turn a blind eye to the rampant violence and succumb to the threats of the most heinous order by the outlaws that stain the nation with such ignominy.

The story is set in Mexico where two young lives are momentarily intertwined and headed for a date with destiny that must have been scribed by El Diablo himself from Hell.  Sayra (Paulina Gaitan) is a Honduran who travels with her father and uncle into Mexico to board the roof of a locomotive to cut through the country to make it to her father’s second family back in New Jersey.  This is where she meets Willy better known as El Casper (Édgar Flores).  This gang member saves her from her would-be rapist, Li’l Mango (Tenoch Huerta), his malignant deviant superior who was robbing and beating the illegal aliens and the downtrodden atop the rolling locomotive.  A previous incident stirs feelings against Li’l Mango and he is cut down machete style causing El Casper to be on the run.  Lost, confused, and dejected, he finds support in Sayra; she feels somewhat indebted to him and soon has a quick spark of a romantic notion.  Young and naive, the young Honduran ditches the train and latches onto her unsuspecting hero who views this as a form of penance to get her to the border.  El Casper is now lone Willy struggling to survive.

Prior to the train, El Casper lived a life within the confines of the gang in which he is a tatted member of Mara Salvatrucha.   Under the demonic auspices of Li’l Mango and the potentate El Sol (Luis Fernando Peña), EL Casper creates a rift between himself and these two as he goes on trysts to see his girlfriend Martha Marlene whom he hides from them as a security precaution.  The leaders are amiss as to his mysterious disappearances.  Casper assures them that he is on point and much like his name his talent is his ghostly-unnoticed presence.  His deceptiveness is perceived as a possible threat to them and blatant disobedience tat warrants punishment.

Casper recruits a young boy that will be given the name Smiley (Kristian Ferrer).  With all sincerity he cares for the pre-teen. Caring is sharing so he brings the kid into his conclave.  Smiley’s grandmother taunts Casper with insults and ranting that her grandson will amount to more than he has and will not be subjugated to the atrocities of gang life.  With grandmother back at home Smiley endures a 13 second savage beating as he is encircled and pummeled with fists and feet.  The young boy tears and wails in the aftermath but smiles when the gang leader pats his head and gives the nod of approval.  Now there is a sense of belonging for Smiley.  More than kinship to one another, there is the allegiance to their group much like the “our thing” that the characters in a Scorsese film wear as a badge of honor.  Also, birth names are replaced with monikers.  Whereas, Bobby Milk or Tony the Blade makes use of first names, the ones in Sin Nombre do not.  Li’l Mango had no idea that El Casper’s name is Willy.

This is the downfall of civilization.  The customs and morality instilled in a social society have been replaced by what is viewed as a heathenish existence.  The heavily tattooed face (almost mask-like) of Little Mango and his brothers in arms point towards the rulers of the land some centuries ago: the Aztecs and Mayans.  These ancient tribes are depicted as vicious and brutal.  Look at Apocolypto.  Sacrifices were offered up to the gods.  The director presents this same ideal in the communal living of the gang as well as the doctrine as dictated by EL Sol and Li’l Mango in which sacrifice must be made.  In the scene when Smiley returns with the news of Li’l Mango’s slaying, the group pays respect to his death in a group “howl” for lack of a better description.  Women are a shared, privacy is something viewed with scowl, tattoos are tribal war paint, arms are stockpiled, and violence is the norm.

Violence dominates the atmosphere.  The grim reality is that the life expectancy of these people is maybe in the mid twenties range.  Adopted kids are groomed into a society in which there is no way out, this is life, this is how one survives.  Not one person in this film has much of anything in the form of materialism.  The gang congregated and a toothbrush and container of orange juice was shared.  What remains absent is any sense of morality.  Fighting is of the norm.  In order to become initiated one is brutally beaten by the very brethren that they will consider a brotherhood, a family.  At command, the gang becomes a pack of animals and beats one of their own.  If one is sentenced to death, they kill without remorse.

Take the guys in Gommorah and compare them to the guys in this film. The mob in Napoli seems relatively docile and compassionate.   If the Sin Nombre characters ruled the roost there would be have no need to call the Magnificent Seven.

The film screams realism.  You won’t find any “cool” shots with Guns n’ Roses belting out “Out ta Get Me” as the train is rolling and when El Casper sustains physical damage he doesn’t burst out “I am still alive” in his best Eddie Vedder impression.  There is nothing glamorous about murder.  The grim hurt and maliciousness of the act reverberates.  Bullets kill quickly.  The aftermath of Smiley’s first kill who is then fed to the dogs leaves a sickening feeling as to the ghastliness of what young children embrace through ignorance and soon become.  Kids are killers.

What does the Mexican government do for its people and is there economic growth?  Something caused this problem.  The world in which Mexico exists is quite different from the one lived within the U.S.  Years ago, I traveled with my brother to Ensenada from Vegas.  We were in awe at the black trucks that pulled up and of the armed faceless men in black fatigues that jumped out and busted through doorways.  This happened several times in different areas in a span of a few hours.  On the way back military personnel armed with machine guns stopped us.  The teenage recruits were shaking down all of the Spanish-speaking drivers.  I pretended not to understand any Spanish and spoke with the most horrendous American accent mangling their language.  Thankfully, the machine gun toting teen was enamored with a Dr. Seuss Grinch lying in the car and was flattered that I loved his machine gun.  We were let go as carloads of Mexicans had their wallets emptied.

Sin Nombre should win the Best Foreign Film at the Oscars this year.  Cary Fukunaga wrote and directed a film certain to be listed among the top films for decades to come.

Persepolis

The American news refers to Iran as a grave threat to our nation and to the democracy and freedoms of the world.  Its people are usually depicted as bloodthirsty, hurling anti-American sentiments at any video camera that will give them airtime.  Is this a true depiction of its people or American media propaganda?  Visiting the Tehran Film Festival years ago, Roger Ebert reflected upon its people and stated, “Iranians are no more monolithic than we are…” I am fortunate enough to be on a first name basis with the great wrestler, Hossein Khosrow Ali Vaziri, better known as The Iron Sheik.  As a former bodyguard to the Shah of Iran, he gives testimony that the people of his homeland are under great duress and do not spew hatred for America.  The Sheik’s love for America is unbridled, as he loves his mother country, its people, and his religion.

This autobiographical tale of a young Iranian subjected to derision is an empathetic tale.  Similar to Anna de la Mesa in Julie Gavras’ Blame It On Fidel! the character is thrown into the very adult world of politics and its effect on their youth and their families.

The film’s animation is not comparable to any Pixar picture or Les Triplettes de Belleville. Persepolis is based on Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novels and it is akin to recent Miller films.  Such works have done quite well at the box office.  Frank Miller’s Sin City and 300 raked in over $600 Million worldwide.  Although Miller’s characters are the bearers of death and do battle in such grand style, Marjane, the central character, battles against the oppression of the shifting governments in her homeland.  Marjane is a young girl that takes to heart the imprisonment of various people including relatives by different factions of the ruling parties in Iran through the years.  Always voicing her opinions and unsettling for the radical impositions, her outward ways prove to be a risk to her well-being. She can be found buying forbidden music such as Iron Maiden, wearing make-up, or being seen in public with a boy.  The young girls carefree days are left in the past, as she is required to cover herself in public.  For her safety, her parents send her to Austria where she finds lodging with nuns and then a crazy woman.  The autocratic rule under both homes is on par with the Iranian ruling party.  At first she is dazzled by the supermarket, reminiscing what her homeland once had.  Becoming a young woman in the western world facing the grimaces of bigotry and the pitfalls of romance, Marjane eventually returns home to Iran.  Sadly, the country is in a tighter grip.  She thwarts certain arrest or detainment by the watchful eye of police for wearing make-up by falsely implicating a man on the street as “bothering” her and makes a run for it.  This incident is revealed to her grandmother with a bit of zeal that angers the old woman into expressing disdain for the act and questions whether or not Marjane’s uncle had gone to prison so that she can act cowardly and falsely accuse for her own gain.  She marries because appearing in public with a male is a harrowing task.  However, her marriage wasn’t one of fairytales and she divorces.  Ordered by her family to find a home in the free world in which she belongs, she is set free at the airport to join the western world.

The film’s illustrative style is inked in stark black and white and gray as the main character recollects the past.  The color segments delineate the present.  The B&W results in engulfing the viewer in the dialogue and narration.  This effective technique was used in many British films in the 60’s when dialogue was the preferred element.  Mike Nichols directed Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and filmed it in black and white because it was decided that Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes would take away from the scripted words.  It could also be argued that the use of B&W in Persepolis is due to hindsight being 20/20.  With such an argument it would stand to reason that the present day setup would be in color.

This film is still enjoying a successful run at the awards circuit around the globe.  In 2007, it triumphed at The National Board of Review by winning The Freedom of Expression Award.  The same year it tied with Ratatouille for Best Animation at the Los Angeles Film Critics Association Awards and took the Jury Prize at The Cannes Film Festival.

Accompanying all the accolades was an underlying force attempting to stop it in its tracks.  The ruling political party in Iran did not favor Persepolis. The Iran Farabi Foundation had sent a letter to the French embassy in Tehran with this statement: “This year the Cannes Film Festival, in an unconventional and unsuitable act, has chosen a movie about Iran that has presented an unrealistic face of the achievements and results of the glorious Islamic Revolution in some of its parts.”  The 2007 Bangkok International Film Festival Bangkok festival removed the film from its line-up after it was pressured by the Iranian embassy.  Chattan Kunjara Na Ayudhaya, public relations director at the Tourism Authority of Thailand said, “We have withdrawn Persepolis … on the request of the Iranian embassy…”

With such a backlash against her work and views, can Satrapi return home to Iran to see her family?  Sam Leith reported that,

“Satrapi now lives in Paris and hasn’t been back to Iran since 2000, when the first volume of Persepolis was published. She says that “not one” of her childhood friends still lives in Iran…Since its translation into English; Persepolis has acquired a readership in Iran. Satrapi is satisfied her parents are in no danger, but she says that because Iran is “not a state of law”, her own treatment on return would be subject to the caprices of the officials she came across.”

There are many Iranian filmmakers in the US and abroad that wish to get their films seen and their voices heard.  In efforts to get a better understanding of who is the Iranian filmmaker I asked Saeed Shafa of the Iranian Film Festival and the Tiburon International Film Festival.  He stated,  “There are two groups of Iranian filmmakers. Those who make their films in Iran and those who make them outside Iran. Even though they are both Iranians, but their films and way of thinking are different. Most of those making films outside Iran are born in various countries and are not familiar with the culture inside Iran. Therefore, their films have a different look and angle. And those who make their films in Iran are divided into 2 groups too. First group who makes films for the local market, inside the country and for the people of Iran. The second group who make their films for a foreign audience, outside Iran, mainly for the western audiences.”

Of the women filmmakers living in Iran, do their films resemble the tone of Marjane Satrapi and address similar types of struggle?

“To answer to your question…they know they have to follow some guidelines otherwise they will not be able to make their films. I don’t think the identity is the issue here, even though they set their tone on women, but not necessarily about their struggles, which will bring a lot taboos that they have to deal with. Because of these concerns, their films lack a deep sweep in the society and the issues the Iranian women face today.   They try but with a lot of cautious.[sic] This naturally effects the language and the vision they use in their films.”

Not all films strike out against the powers that be.  Jafar Panahi is an Iranian born filmmaker.  The Iranian government also forbade his films, The Circle and Crimson Gold.  Yet, he is also responsible for lighthearted fare.  White Balloon is a delightful film about a young Iranian girl in need of a fat goldfish for the new year celebration.  She and her brother finagle their mother’s last bit of money.  On the way to the store the money is lost to a street performer and once it is retrieved it is again lost elsewhere.  The children make a valiant effort to get their money back.

Iran offers the world such a bountiful cinema that it is shameful that in this country foreign films have such a limited appeal.  If one is not in New York to go to the Sunshine Cinema or a comparable venue or does not subscribe to IFC, the Sundance Channel or a specific international channel, these films go unseen.

Where The Wild Things Are

Where did your fantasies take you as a kid?  From what angst did you suffer?  Did monsters exist in scary places?

Max is an adolescent with an absent father, a struggling single mother, and a sister interested in boys.  He is alone in a world where everyone is bigger than he and weighted down with possible feelings that he in insignificant.  This kid acts out, has temper tantrums, and bites his mother as he quarrels with the household and stands atop the kitchen counter and commands,  “I am hungry, feed me woman!”  The mother needs to give him a good beating and perhaps to see a psychologist.

Max has taken voyage to a place where he is king.  He sails off to an island of misfit melancholy monsters that are large Wild Things that have all of the psychological issues found in the characters in Girl, Interrupted.  James Gandolfini is Carol, the monster that acts out.  He is violent and he destroys their habitat. Carol is Tony Soprano with all of his psychological disorders embodied into this creature.

Was Spike Jonze the correct choice for the writer/director of the book adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s Where The Wild Things Are?  Jonze is the director of Adaptation, Being John Malkovich, a slew of music videos, and a producer of MTV’s Jackass.  Most expectantly would be the likes of Tim Burton or even Guillermo del Toro to helm such a project.  However, Jonze presents the material in a more cerebral approach that is not necessarily chock full of humorous delights and engaging whimsical character voices.  This is most definitely not a children’s movie.

I read in a companion book to the film that Jonze worked closely with Sendak to preserve the integrity of his work and to green light his own ideas.  The task must have been monumental. Dave Eggers and Jonze co-wrote the screenplay that amounts to an interpretation of a 16 or so line book that allows for the viewers to interpret the film in their own way.

The script is written in an adult manner that actually makes one feel empty and hollow.  We are in Max’s psyche and it is not a pleasant place.  When he leaves the island and returns home, he leaves behind pieces of immaturity and fragments of childhood.  It is sad.  He doesn’t venture forth past a rainbow and exclaim shouts of jubilee.  The film is not an easy one to sit through which would deter many to place it high on their lists of must-sees.  Many will not like this film.   Truthfully, I applaud the film and take note of its achievements but did not wholly enjoy it.

The monsters take on Max’s issues.  Carol, to whom Max bonds, acts out irrationally running amok much like his own tantrums.  Also, Carol lashes out at Max and proves to be his biggest threat.  KW, a female wild thing is not so receptive to Carol.  He wants her attention badly, which may be a representation of Max’s parents although there is nothing is the film to allude to the factors concerning his father’s absence.  KW also shields Max from Carol.

The Wild Things want family harmony.  Max is heralded as king and is there to eradicate any misbehavior and any unstable family squabbling.  Once the fortress is built, Max wants a place to hide and be alone.  Carol goes berserk.  Family is where they all pile atop of one another not to saunter off and hide in a hole.  Unfortunately, Max cannot bring harmony alone and abdicates his throne.  It’s time for him to sail away back home.

The creatures are something of a wide-eyed wonder to bestow.  The actors were fitted with huge costumes, CGI was employed, and the setting was spectacular.  Shot in Australia, the cinematographer Lance Acord is deserving of an Oscar.  The music is worthy of a listen.  Jonze, known for his music video work, was also once married to Sofia Coppola, the granddaughter of composer Roman Coppola. No doubt Jonze has been at least somewhat impacted by all of this.  His musical choices are on the money.

(Sofia Coppola made some very bold musical decisions in her film, Marie Antoinette.)

One facet of the film that needs clarifying for no particular reason other than to suit me is the year that this is supposed to take place.  The cars are mid 90’s and the electronics visible are not up to date.

Like a number of childhood books that have been made for the big screen, this is far superior to The Grinch and Curious George.  Jonze’s film acted as a catalyst to revisiting my childhood horrors.  Mainly, bad memories of television shows that I faintly remember in reruns entitled The New Zoo Revue and Sigmund the Sea Monster.  These were quite old at the time but still circulated on Channel 5.  When will the hungry caterpillar and Danny and his dinosaur be made into movies?

I Love You, Man

Most likely you would not want to watch this movie with your parents.  Actually, you will never want to watch this movie with your parents.  Vulgarities run rampant and explicit talk is voiced by everyone on screen in this stimulating and matter of factly presented adult discussion of unmentionables that respectable people just don’t talk about but when these topics are heard, they are only acceptable on Oprah and criticized deeply when it is Howard Stern.

When the film is critiqued, it really rates as one of the best films of 2009.  However, its crass and lewd overtone will prevent it from being recognized from any of the award shows that prefer to wave the wand of favor to films that are “respectable.”

The screenplay takes the flipside of the norm and presents it in an intelligent way.  There is a plot, the characters are well developed, the dialogue is in a league of its own, and the mediocrity and idiocy of films with filthy language (the more recent National Lampoon and Broken Lizard) is absent.

I Love You Man is all about the double standard in the favor of women.  The men in this film are not the typical party sex monger irresponsible sorts generally found in films that go to great lengths discussing oral sex.  All of these men are obsequious and committed to their wives or girlfriends.

Rashida Jones is Zooey Rice who proudly gives her hand to the man with big real estate development plans.  She has her plethora of friends that includes Denise (Jamie Presley.) Immediately after getting engaged she conferences them from the car speakerphone and after the high pitched squealing of delight, her fiancé Peter Klaven (Paul Rudd) drives home knowing that her friends have the 411 on their entire sexual history.  Zooey sees nothing wrong with that.  At a girl’s night party at their home, Peter shows up unnoticed and innocently eavesdrops on the conversation as he brings out a tray of drinks for the dozen in session.  What he hears leaves him a bit flustered.  He needs friends.  He needs friends for a bridal party.

Making the big announcement to his family, the couple dines with his parents and brother.  Paul sits with his mom who is also his best friend, which is scoffed at.  When Paul’s dad, Oswald (J.K. Simmons), announces that his best friend is an old buddy and his other son, the homosexual, that’s totally cool and acceptable. The dad bluntly speaks about his son’s sexual preference and desires.   While Paul’s brother (Andy Samberg) was out looking for man member, Paul was more content in committed relationships without much male companionship.  So the search is on for friends.

Paul attempts to mingle with friends from fencing and at Denise’s house playing poker with her husband Barry (Jon Favreau.)  Not being much of a social drinker or a card player, Paul projectile vomits on Barry.  Thus ending any possible friendship.  His brother and mother set him up on man dates.  The characters are funny and one date went well up until the good night tonsil hockey that threw Paul for a curve.

Nothing is truer than finding something when not looking for it.  Where?  Of all places, at Lou Ferrigno’s multi-million dollar listing with a huge sculpture of the massive man and pictures of The Incredible Hulk.  Here Paul’s bromance begins with a wealthy investment guy by the name of Sydney Fife (Jason Segel.)

Sydney, an investor, is the most straightforward and honest guy around.  He calls it like it is (much like a child does) and this throws people off guard.  He lives in Venice Beach with a room for indulging: drums, basses, TV, music, rocking out to Rush and a chair for masturbating.  They do everything together that a film about a male and female would do during the nurturing stages of a relationship.

Rides on Sydney’s Vespa, long hikes, and walks along the beach with a dog that he named Anwar Sadat because of its resemblance to the assassinated Egyptian President.

They also do guy things.  Play instruments to their favorite band’s catalog, cause a raucous, and leave dog poop which factors much into the story.

It is all really funny.  Unlike Step Brothers, which was inane, this movie was not a series of calculated laugh riot skits paced throughout the film to keep your continuous interest.  Guaranteed, your interest will never wane when watching this film.  Paul Rudd and Jason Segel work so well together.  They are easily the next best comic team.

Paul needs a backbone and Sydney is there to nurture one when dealing with another real estate agent that wants to share the Ferrigno listing.  Sydney confronts The Hulk for his friend and does something to show his true friendship.  Things may not go as Sydney planned.  Of course, this relationship spoils what Paul and Zooey had such as Sunday nights together.  Paul explains that Sunday night is HBO night because it’s not TV, it’s HBO.

When Sydney makes a speech at an engagement dinner, what should have been hush hush about Paul’s confession to Sydney about his fiancés lack of enthusiasm for certain acts, the double standard is applied and the strain is on.

From here the film takes on the crisis and offers the resolution.  It’s funny, funny, funny.

See it.