Rather than provide our regular review of this steaming pile of putrid waste passed off as a movie, I’m kicking off this review with my own abbreviated version of the plotline for your amusement:

Spoiler Alert: By reading the following you are totally spoiling the movie. But seriously, you really shouldn’t watch this crap anyway.

Doomsday tells the story of an unfortunate British actor who mistakenly signs up as the lead character in what will become the worst massacre of an homage movie ever attempted. The beautiful and extremely fit ex-Lara Croft Rhona Mitra plays Major Eden Sinclair, orphaned when her native Scotland is ravaged by the horrendous and Ebola like Reaper virus. As the Scots perish the government decides the best solution to curb the pandemic is to build a wall that literally shuts the virus in. Rather than simply leaving the production at this point, Mitra stays on and her character Sinclair becomes a military specialist with inhuman fighting abilities and a remote controlled prosthetic camera eye. Which would be interesting if there was any point to it. But there is none. Sinclair is hired by the British Prime Minister (played by Dr. Julian Bashir who aparently found a time machine in Deep Space Nine) through acriminal political right-hand-man and her mentor Bob Hoskins. The task? It seems some Scots survived the isolation and are still roaming the desolate streets of Edinsburgh. Naturally Bashir wants to find them and an epidemiologist who were left behind so he can use them to find a cure for the Reaper virus that has mysteriously reappeared in the London slums.

Read on for the whole story and our thoughts…

Read the rest of this entry »

The technique, the execution, the personality, the passion…the right choreographers! They twice in a row have my vote, this time for an impressive Napoleon and Tabitha lyrical hip hop number to Leona Lewis’ wildly popular single “Bleeding Love.” Is it just me or was Wednesday’s show packed with theatrics? There was a heck of a lot of acting on the dance floor yesterday. Though I do think it makes a performance more interesting and engaging, I hope they don’t get too carried away. For a few of the couples, I found my mind wandering and when I start thinking that the routine is long, that’s not a good sign. I think the key is finding that right balance, which was achieved beautifully by Mark and Chelsie‘s symbolism-packed routine. It was very imaginative, writhe with emotion, very in tune with the times, and most importantly, entertaining. This is one couple I can see in the final four. The other two are my early favourites Katee and Joshua.

By 8 pm we were already plunked down in front of our 50″ screen in anticipation of this week’s dancing extravaganza but to be honest, none of the routines left a lasting enough impression for us to pick a clear winner by the end of the two-hour show. If we had to cast our vote though, it would be Mark Kanemura and Chelsie Hightower‘s hot Argentine Tango number. Chelsie did a respectable job of Alex da Silva‘s choreography, but Mark was the definite star (and a damn sexy one at that). He had the moves and the attitude and was as we’ve come to expect, as quirky as ever. Our close second was Katee & Joshua with their crazy Broadway routine, which was executed to perfection but didn’t make it to the top of our list because the genre is more of an acquired taste. Morten and I take ballroom so we dug the cortes, gauchos, and fans of the tango.

Peeves: I think the show’s popularity is getting to Nigel Lythgoe‘s head (much as it did Tyra Banks when ANTM rose in fame). I suggest he stick to judging and leave the theatrics to the professionals. Read the rest of this entry »

C’mon, who doesn’t like So You Think You Can Dance?! The personalities, the behind-the-scene featurettes, the outrageous costumes and of course, the pure artistry and athleticism of the dancers just makes it a must-see. Tonight marked the first evening of the real competition and this Napoleon and Tabitha hip hop number, performed by Katee Shean (20, California) and partner Joshua Allen (19, Texas) was in my opinion, the best one in the bunch. Enjoy!

From time to time you catch one of those movies that has a great script but no story. For Slow Burn, it’s the other way around. Here is a great story brutalized by a terrible script and poor storytelling to boot.

A directorial debut for Wayne Beach, Slow Burn spins the tale of District Attorney Ford Cole (played by always angry Ray Liotta) who gets entangled in a web of double, triple and quadruple crosses as he tries to figure out whether his African-American assistant Nora Timmer (played by ex Vulcan hottie Jolene Blalock) killed her alleged rapist Isaac Duperde (Mekhi Phifer) in self defense, or if it was murder. Timmer’s ethnicity is noted only because it (or rather the question of what race she really belongs to) plays an integral part in the story.

The movie jumps from present time to several alternate pasts through the stories told by Timmer and Luther Pinks – a friend of the murder victim/rapist played by none other than LL Cool J – about what really happened. Cole desperately tries to piece it all together as the clock ticks toward 5 am – the time when something unknown is set to happen. Sound melodramatic? Well it is. And appallingly so.

Slow Burn is one of those movies where the director (a writer at heart) makes the unfortunate choice of telling the story mostly through voiceovers – a trick that almost never works. In this case, the actual reading of the voiceover is so slow you feel like going out for coffee. What’s worse is that it’s coated with condescension, as if you don’t have the brains to figure things out so every minute detail has to be explained to you. The fact that the monologues appeared to have been ripped out of Clichés for Dummies (not actually in existence at the time of this review but probably in the works by the looks of it) doesn’t exactly help matters. Pinks’ description of Timmer as “smelling like a ripe tangerine, ready to be peeled,” just about puts you off the fruit for good.

Morten’s Take: Slow Burn is a perfect description of the feeling you get between your eyes while you try to force yourself to justify the money spent on renting this abomination of a movie.
Angela’s Take: I warned that no good would come of renting a movie with Ray Liotta as the headliner. But do men listen? Noooooooooo.

An editor once told me “if you’re going to write a biased review, don’t write it at all.” So let me be clear. This is not a review but a recommendation.

If you are in Vancouver this weekend, take a trip down to the Vancouver International Film Centre and catch one of the screenings of the movie Heima. If you know the band Sigur Rós, I don’t need to explain why. If you don’t, I promise you it will change your perception of what music can be. How often can you say you went to a concert movie and saw people crying openly during the screening, not because they were upset, but because the music invoked such strong emotions?

I can say with certainty that Sigur Rós does something no other band can. They perform musical alchemy, transforming simple harmonies into real life manifestations of pure emotion. Those who have experienced it describe it as an almost religious revelation – a spiritual awakening. I have yet to find a person who does not on some level feel drawn to their music. And you’ve probably heard it, though you may not have been aware of it. Did you ever see the trailer for the movie Children of Men? The one with the haunting music in the background that drew you in? Their music is used everywhere, you just don’t know who they are. Well, now you will.

An amazing performance of the song “Von” from the movie after the jump. Read the rest of this entry »

Parents have this advantage over us
We want to believe in them
And when we don’t believe in them
We still just want to be with them

These words, quoted by Evan Rachel Wood as 17-year-old Miranda, captures the essence of a charming little film that Morten and I stumbled upon at our neighbourhood Rogers Video tonight. Thanks to King of California‘s bright yellow cover, our eyes were drawn to it right away. Good thing too, because there were only two copies on the shelves amidst the usual barrage of uninspired cookie cutter movies. Here’s the synopsis from the rental sleeve:

“After spending two years in a mental institution, Charlie (Michael Douglas) is sent home and reunites with his teenage daughter. Charlie becomes obsessed with the notion that a long-lost Spanish treasure is buried beneath their local suburban California Costco. Disconnected from reality and his daughter’s life, Charlie’s erratic behaviour further strains their relationship and completely disrupts her peaceful existence. Initially skeptical, Miranda soon finds herself joining in Charlie’s questionable antics in an effort to believe in her father and give him one last shot at accomplishing his dreams in this darkly funny, exciting and surprisingly hopeful take on the modern family and the American dream.”

Quirky, real, and unexpected, this indie from first time writer/director Mike Cahill will tickle your funny bone (there’s a priceless police chase), tug at your heartstrings, and most delightfully challenge your preconceptions of the world and the colourful characters within it.

“You’ve got to believe in treasure to find it.”

Morten’s Take: Maybe there really IS value at Costco.
Angela’s Take: Finally. Something to wash away the putrid taste The Mist left behind.

A night of gaming, crooning and dame wooing!
Gamble our money, win great prizes and celebrate the memory of ol’ blue eyes and his Rat Pack.

Who’d say no to an invite like that! With hooch boots, halter tops and jagerbombs making up what would typically be someone’s ‘night on the town’ these days, an event like the Sinatra-inspired soirée I attended tonight is an exhilarating break from the monotony of everyday life. Thanks to our gracious host, Warner Bros., I got to spend a totally boss night with my main squeeze and we took a trip back to the fifties, when an evening out meant fancy dress, martinis, a little gambling, and all in good company. Read the rest of this entry »

Wall•E, my new favourite robot of all time, has a girlfriend! OK, I admit it. I am a total sucker for Disney animated movies. And I’m obsessed with robots. So this is a perfect combination in my books, no matter what the story. When I saw the first teaser for Wall•E, right before Remy the rat-chef proved that anyone can cook, I was sold…and that trailer told us nothing about the story! With this new one, I can honestly say “to hell with Batman and Indiana Jones.” How the geniuses at Disney are able to make a boxy robot cute is beyond me, but then again they made Remy act both like a rat and a human at the same time so…

I wonder when they’ll start selling Wall•E model kits…

Reality TV…whether you love it or hate it, it’s here to stay.

Despite the tendency for critics to consolidate all shows that technically fall within the boundaries that define this genre into one all-encompassing group, you have to admit there are clearly some good ones and some atrocious ones. Try to deny it, but I know you do enjoy watching other people make asses of themselves because it gives you a secret thrill of superiority. Drivel like The Simple Life however, are so beyond the realm of stupidity that they fall into an undefinable black hole that defies explanation.

On the other hand, you’ve got shows like VH1′s America’s Most Smartest Model (don’t visit this site if you don’t want spoilers). The mockery in the title itself hints of a potentially higher (though only ever so slightly) plane of humour not offered in your average brain drainer. When Morten and I saw it listed on the TV guide channel, we had to check it out and though embarrassed to admit it, we had a grand ol’ hour and a half watching sixteen models trying to prove that the synapses in their pretty brains were not fried.

After two minutes, we already had a favourite: Andre the Russian psycho model. Unlike the token bitch that is always cast in your typical reality show, male equivalents are always more generally appealing. With a woman, you may feel the urge to slap her silly, but with a man, you just wanna laugh and cheer him on. Without Andre, all you’d have are a couple of pretty faces, a “bag of bones with a set of implants and an ugly blonde wig,” “a couple of midgets,” “Pinocchio,” the lazy-ass Argentinian with a French name (and also the only one in the lot that requires subtitles), some forgetables, and of course, Mandy Lynn, the silicone-lipped, top-heavy, porn star lingerie model who is forever on the verge of elimination but is obviously reprieved (at least in the beginning) for the obvious ratings.

I know the season’s already over in the States and the show well into its run in the U.K., but for us Canadians, it comes a little late (Thursdays at 8PT on Citytv). In its premiere episode, two models are “Purged” from the get go. All they had to do was walk down a runway and state their modelling, as well as their academic credentials. This was when we got our first surprise. Apparently, the majority of them have a completed post-secondary education, with one even working towards a PhD in Psychology. Andre speaks five languages and isn’t too modest to list all his other attributes as well. He is a “God” after all.

Those who survived the immediate cut settled into their accommodations, where they were surprised with locked bathroom doors and a fridge that could only be opened by entering the numerical answers to the questions posted on the door. Some examples:

The year Christopher Columbus discovered America
The year the United States declared independence
The year America celebrated its bicentennial x100

The first official challenge was a spelling bee, where Andre and Gaston were the first to be cut in the second round with the failure to spell “retardant” and “nincompoop” respectively. Even when given designer names to spell (something which as models they should be very familiar with), there were foul-ups like “Tommy HilfiNger.” In all fairness though, there were some toughies as well, like psoriasis, variegated, Bacchanalian, and Dionysian.

Daniel, the model with the lack of style won, giving him the “Edge,” or a clue to the second part of the challenge (or “Callback”): Being able to do the catwalk while simultaneously listing as many items as possible in a category designated by the hosts, Ben Stein and Mary Alice Stephenson (examples: things that are soft; names of rivers; names of islands; types of drugs; types of trees – where I learned that there is, in fact, such a thing as an “Umbrella Tree”; world leaders; and elements on the periodic table). Knowing in advance that he would have to list as many species of dinosaurs as he could, Daniel survived to see episode two. At the very end, two additional models were eliminated, one of which was the strange and very lethargic Gaston who sited amongst other things, a “dirty penis” in his category of “smelly items.”

And with that, we leave you with some memorable words from the ever entertaining, undeniably offensive, always intense Andre the Russian psycho model, without whom we’d unlikely return for a second dose of America’s Most Smartest Model:

“We are a standard of lifestyle! People DIE to be US bro!”

“Fifteen Americans against one Soviet” *Pffft!!*

“The greatest empires are built from war, not peace!”