BILLY JACK WOULD UNDERSTAND

1. Prom Night/SGem Wknd/$ 22.7 Total/$ 22.7
2. Street Kings/FoxS Wknd/$ 12.0 Total/$ 12.0
3. 21/Sony Wknd/$ 11.0 Total/$ 62.3
4. Nim’s Island/Fox Wknd/$ 9.0 Total/$ 25.3
5. Leatherheads/Universal Wknd/$ 6.2 Total/$ 21.9
6. Horton Hears A Who/Fox Wknd/$ 6.0 Total/$ 139.6
7. Smart People/Miramax Wknd/$ 4.2 Total/$ 4.2
8. The Ruins/Paramount/Dream Wknd/$ 3.3 Total/$ 13.4
9. Superhero Movie/MGM Wknd/$ 3.1 Total/$ 21.2
10. Drillbit Taylor/Paramount Wknd/$ 2.1 Total/$ 28.5

YOU KNOW WHAT’S SCARIER? MY ACTUAL PROM NIGHT.
Prom Night opens at number one and aside from my usual rule of “not doing the scary” I also saw the original with Jamie Lee Curtis during her “scream queen” reign and honestly, I prefer that plotline of someone killing people off revenge in their complicity for the death of a child to this, an obsessed teacher slaughters a girl’s family then her friends. As I get older, I just have less and less of a tolerance of mindless slaughter, much less the mindless slaughter of characters that are essentially innocent. I mean, where’s the fun in that? Not to mention, innocent people are rarely ever interesting to begin with, so the time following them before they die is dull. The original Prom Night also had a totally gratuitous scene where Jamie Lee Curtis shakes her ass on the dance floor and on her best day, this little girl simply cannot compare to Jamie lee Curtis in her prime. No way, no day.

SAN DIEGO CONFIDENTIAL?
Street Kings opens at number two and imagine if Russell Crowe’s character and Kim Basinger’s character eventually had a son who looked like Keanu Reeves and moved back to LA to become a cop like his dad in the same brutal manner. If you like that idea then you’ll love Street Kings, because Keanu Reeves is essentially the same type of unstoppable, force-of-nature-killing machine of a cop that everyone knows and fears. The film opens up with him killing a house filled with the kidnappers of a pair of twin girls, similar to Crowe’s rescue of the rape victim in LA Confidential, all the way down to him placing guns in their hands after he’s shot them. Also, like LA Confidential, there are apparently no good cops in LA, but cops who do bad things for the right reasons and cops who are just bad. And if Keanu Reeves is Russell Crowe’s son, then Chris Evans is grandson of Guy Pearce’s Exley, the ambitious pretty boy detective and Forrest Whittaker is the bastard son of Police Chief Dudley, who unleashes Keanu Reeves. Needless to say, this comes from the pen of James Ellroy, who wrote LA Confidential and whose novels are about the nastier side of LA, especially law enforcement. This doesn’t have nearly as Byzantine a plot, mainly because you’re only following one character around. Like Russell Crowe, Keanu Reeves is tortured, only he’s not tortured by an abusive childhood, but a dead wife. But rather than a hooker with a heart of gold to help ease his pain, there’s a nurse, whose role is so miniscule, you could have removed her outright with no real impact on his character. Keanu Reeves is obviously not the actor Russell Crowe was so they compensate by having him kill even more people, cops and criminals alike, with and without weapons, brushing off bullet wounds like mosquito bites.

YOU KNOW IT’S BAD WHEN THE ENGLISH GUYS ARE SEX SYMBOLS
21 is down to number three and aside from given Kate Bosworth’s career a much-needed shot in the arm, it finally gives Jim Sturgess’s career a foothold in the states. Yes, another English guy taking work away from American actors because he proves you can be good looking and talented. I mean, would you rather see Shia LeBouf here? I know I wouldn’t and I’m pretty sure Kate Bosworth is grateful to be spared that love scene with him too. In fact, she’s the latest in an impressive list, as Sturgess was with Rachel Evan Wood in Across The Universe and was also in The Other Boleyn Girl with Natalie Portman and Scarlet Johansson. All he’s missing now is a few Jessicas (Biel, Simpson, Alba). That’s the difference between being a hot young actor and a hot young actress. If you’re a hot young actor, you have hot young actresses as your love interests. If you’re a hot young actress, you have middle-aged actors as your love interests.

I LOVE YOU, PINCH-FACE!
Nim’s Island is down to number four, followed by Leatherheads at number five and I am a Renee Zellweger fan and I don’t care what’s going on with her face. She can do no wrong for me. Between Bridget Jones and Chicago, she’s got a long way to go before her goodwill is exhausted. And while this breaks no new ground for her it’s still better than the mediocre animated work she keeps doing (Bee Movie, Shark Tale). Someone should tell her agent about this place called Pixar…

SMARTS AND THE CITY
Horton Hears A Who is down to number six, followed by Smart People opening at number seven and this was supposedly a big hit at Sundance and charm of the actors aside, I can’t imagine why. Dennis Quaid plays a misanthropic widowed Carnegie Mellon professor who has raised two very smart kids, a son who doesn’t seem to care too much for him and a daughter who is becoming a similarly unhappy version of him (we see Quaid eating his lunches alone and find out later she does the same). Into this comes Thomas Hayden Church as Quaid’s charming adopted ner-do-well brother (we know he’s charming because we first meet him Xeroxing his crotch to the delight of the ladies at Carnegie Mellon) and Sarah Jessica Parker as a former student who is now the ER doctor that winds up taking care of Quaid after an accident. In the fine tradition of film, the non-intellectual brother and introduction of a new love helps to jolt Quaid back to life. I know this because it happens, not because I saw anything change in him onscreen. Quaid stays in his curmudgeon persona pretty much without change so it’s a bit shocking when he’s suddenly in bed with Sarah Jessica Parker. Similarly, Thomas Hayden Church just makes wiseass remarks most of the time, which somehow aids in this. The irony is, at one point Quaid actually admits there’s been no great change in him, only that he has hope of it and apparently this is enough. Then there’s Ellen Page as the smart daughter who is starving for affection and as a result of her uncle’s attentions makes a move on him, prompting him to start spending his nights in his nephew’s dorm room (you’d think such a charming rogue could just get a girlfriend, but apparently he’s lost without a copying machine). Her issues are given only the most surface explanation and no real attempt at solution other than, “Hey, go be happy.” And if you’re looking for an exploration or resolution with his son, look elsewhere, because apparently he wasn’t a priority with the filmmakers. I guess that’s why we don’t see him in any of the advertising. And for a movie that’s about a family of academics (the son writes a poem the New York buys just as dad’s book on literary criticism gets published) aside from few ten-dollar words tossed about in an SAT discussion, the conversation really doesn’t reflect that of intellectuals. Compare it to the characters in Woody Allen films. There’s was never any question you were dealing with overly intellectual people, but here, like in so many other aspects, you only know because people say so, not because of anything conveyed onscreen. I mean, if Ellen Page is so brilliant why doesn’t she get a full scholarship to Stanford instead of the cost of it being some kind of issue? There would have been more dramatic tension over it if there were no question of her being able to leave home.

NO THE MOVIE’S TITLE IS NOT A COMMENTARY ON HER CAREER
The Ruins is down to number eight and if Ellen Page is the latest indie film princess, then Jena Malone was one of her predecessors, also playing the not-conventionally attractive girl advanced beyond her years (as all indie girls do to justify the sexual situations indie directors place them in, see Ricci, Christina) in movies like The Dangerous Live of Altar Boys, Donnie Darko, Saved, Life As House and most recently, Into The Wild. And she didn’t just talk the talk, she walked the walk, speaking openly on her conception as a one night stand and later legally winning emancipation from her mother at 15. She also is blunt about taking a role like this to make herself more marketable after deliberately walking away from it. Doing a horror film is a wise move as I’ve mentioned before, but next time get yourself a nice slasher remake like Prom Night and stay away from movies about KILLER PLANTS! I still cannot get over the total lameness of it. I won’t even get into how the natives know the place has killer plants but have never bothered to, oh I don’t know BURN THE FUCKING PLACE WITH GASOLINE!

THE END
Superhero Movie is down to number nine with Drillbit Taylor closing out the top ten at number ten.

WHERE’S THE FUN IF I CAN’T KICK PEOPLE IN THE HEAD
So my martial arts search continued for another week. First off was New York Shaolin, the one that had been closed the previous Saturday and sent me to the jiu-jitsu class. I had high hopes for it but was pretty much immediately disappointed by the lack of sharpness from the higher belts (though a Chinese style they wear gi’s from a time when the grandmaster had to leave China and had to disguise it as Japanese style). Then there was the kid who was blue belt and had zero discipline. I mean that’s kind of the goal of teaching kids martial arts, giving them discipline. I’m starting to realize that even though I took taekwondo in a freaking sports club, I was incredibly fortunate, because so many flat out schools fail to meet the standards my instructor set. Every class was strong on basics because if you can’t throw a simple punch, or block, a jumping spinning inside out crescent kick was pretty useless to you (and yes, there was a time in my life I could throw a jumping, spinning inside-out crescent kick). It also means that as a first timer you wouldn’t get lost. Not so here. Nothing was ever really explained, it was just watch and catch up. Now there is a precedent to this in martial arts, but that’s a really hardcore type of teaching where you sink or swim and this was anything but a hardcore place. Hardcore places don’t have water breaks (hell, in my kendo class, the sensei told us not to drink water and would turn a hose of cold water on us in the shower afterwards). Again not even the cute blonde girl with the pixie cut (who is an actress I’ve seen in commercials though I can’t remember it right now) could motivate me. At least not with those weak kicks of hers. And no, I’m not being a taekwondo “kicking snob.” All the techniques, seemed…sloppy. Next on the journey was Seido Karate on 23rd street between 5th and 6th. This is the end result of nagging from an old friend who studied there with her husband. She was the manager of the video store where I once worked and I would occasionally house and dog-sit for them. She was tall and wore her hair (which changed colors regularly) Annie Lennox short and was attractive enough to once have none other than Jodie Foster put the moves on her---much to the chagrin of the out and proud lesbian assistant manager. So, every time I complain about martial arts, Annie Lennox sends me an email telling me to try her old school so finally I did. And she was right. It’s a good place. Strong basics and bears the unique standard of actually being the headquarters of its particular style. The trial class was only about half an hour but was unique in that the instructor took us to a separate part of the dojo rather than have us sit in with a class. I was fortunate enough to take my trial class alongside another potential student who also had a martial arts background so he didn’t have to baby us. Everything was tiptop but karate is just too similar to taekwondo to make it interesting to me. I’d feel as though I was wasting my background to do something that close. I might as well just go back to where I started. Also, there was something not doing head shots when sparring. Excuse me? How can you train and not take shots at people’s heads!?! That’s your first freaking target, groin notwithstanding! It’s also the source of probably my best moment in martial arts. When I was 17 I was sparring with my burly, bearded instructor and at one point I actually reached that place they call “the zone” where you can tell your body to do anything and it does it. I told my body that when he threw a jab, to feint a kick to his chest with my front leg then go up and tap him gently on the head. To both my surprise and his, it did just that. It may be unrealistic, but that’s kinda where I’d like to get back to and I can’t at someplace that doesn’t allow for it. So even though one of the best so far (the other being the first taekwondo place I tried out almost a year ago), I’m taking a pass, though it did cement in me the decision to either go back to taekwondo or do kungfu. To that end, the next stop was Hung Ga kungfu, back in the west 20’s (apparently were a lot of schools are as it’s still a crappy neighborhood). This was another good place. Disciplined but not totally hardassed. Strong on basics, I went in with the regular class, though a higher-ranking student was instructed to help me with the techniques. Also, at a certain point he took myself and the other guy (also on a search though he told me he’d actually hauled his ass out to Queens, while I won’t even leave the west side) aside to work on a technique while the others worked on more advanced procedures. We did it over and over and over which is very important because repetition is the key. And at the end of class was more killer conditioning. It’s definitely the number one contender at this point, though I was disappointed to find out forms are a separate class. I’ve got one more kungfu school to see and two more taekwondo places. Then something’s got to give, because the weather is getting warmer and there’ll be no more winter clothing to hide my new gut and bigger man boobs. Hell, people will think I’m that pregnant man that’s been in the news.

OSCAR’S GONNA KICK YOUR ASS…OR THANK YOU!
Rock of Love wrapped up and I’m a bit surprised he actually made the adult decision to got with a stable age appropriate woman than the utterly fucked up woman-child known as Daisy de La Hoya. Yes, the niece of Oscar, who was probably saved from a career in porn (for now at least) by being on this show. I still say crazy-ass Kristy Jo can walk in and take him and I’m hoping that’s what will happen on the reunion show.

IN PRAISE OF OLDER WOMEN…WHO DRINK

So the weekend arrives and I’m doing what I normally do. No, not that. What I normally do when I actually to dare leave my apartment: drink with chicks. However this week I was fortunate enough to be drinking with chicks my own age. Angelina Jolie Smile returned and this time with a friend of hers who’d bought a studio in one of the many new buildings in my neighborhood as a pied a terre as well as an investment (see what life could be like if you actually have some idea of what to do with it). The girls planned to use it as an occasional retreat from their lives in suburbia. I was a bit worried our conversations would be a tad muted because I assume people have friends as varied as mine, which is why I’m kinda afraid to ever put all you bitches together in the same room. I fear a spilling of blood and the loud scream, “How could you ever be friends with that bitch!?!” I didn’t think AJ Smile and I would be able to talk as freely as we normally do with her pal around. I shouldn’t’ have worried. Anal sex and strap-ons were discussed before the first drink even hit the table and truly delved into afterwards. We had dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, which is a very good Mexican fusion place on 9th Avenue, and I always have a good meal there. This was no different. However, it was a bit a bit dark, so when her friend made a comment about all the people from India who live in New Jersey, I wasn’t sure what to make of her. It was only in the light that I discovered she actually was Indian so it was a joke she was making and not a slightly racist statement. Yeah, another proud moment for me. I thought I’d be taking them on a drinking tour of the whole three places I can stand in my neighborhood, but they were happy retreating to the studio to drink on the rooftop in a one of the roof units some of the residents had. They’re all little gated allotments, which is a pretty smart idea, allowing your residents some privacy even on the roof. We drank there for awhile then headed back down to the apartment where I learned about the many joys of the suburban housewife living, such as hippie neighbors propositioning threesomes and Halloween drinking parties in your cul-de-sac, while the husbands handle the trick-or-treating. We killed two bottles and probably would have done in a third if we’d had it, so young or old my consistency in friends remains the same. But judging by the headache I had the next day and the one I had from my night out of drinking with the Jezebel girls, I may be getting too old for this shit. Either that or I need to give up wine with all its sugar and switch to vodka. Yeah, I need to drink vodka.

HOW DO YOU SAY, “DISGRACE TO YOUR FAMILY” IN SPANISH?
Viva Hollywood started on VH1 and it’s about time Latinos were allowed to embarrass themselves in front of the nation the way Blacks and Whites have been doing for years. And they didn’t waste any time at all, starting with Maria Conchito Alonzo’s age-inappropriate see-through dress and the reaction of the guy who revealed he first jerked off to her. Like 99% of all non-Spanish speaking people, I could give a crap about the Spanish soap operas called telenovellas, so I probably won’t be back for this.