1. Star Trek/Parmount Wknd/$ 72.5 Total/$ 76.5
2. X-Men Origins: Wolverine/Fox Wknd/$ 27.0 Total/$ 129.6
3. Ghost of Girlfriends Past/NL Wknd/$ 10.5 Total/$ 10.5
4. Obsessed/ScreenGem Wknd/$ 6.6 Total/$ 56.2
5. 17 Again/Warner Wknd/$ 4.4 Total/$ 54.2
6. Next Day Air/Summit Wknd/$ 3.6 Total/$ 4.0
7. The Soloist/Paramount-DW Wknd/$ 3.6 Total/$ 23.5
8. Monsters Vs. Aliens/DreamW Wknd/$ 3.4 Total/$ 186.9
9. Earth/Disney Wknd/$ 2.5 Total/$ 26.1
10. Hanna Montana The Movie/Disney Wknd/$ 2.4 Total/$ 74.1
WHERE EVERY SUMMER MOVIE HAS GONE BEFORE
Star Trek opens at number one and you know I’m not happy, right? This is a decent enough summertime, science fiction, adventure movie, but what it is not is Star Trek. Star Trek was always a cut above your average science fiction adventure because it had pretensions of intelligence and maybe being about something more. This is pretty and stuff blows up real good, but it doesn’t make a lick of sense and is about nothing in particular. What’s particularly galling is how proud J.J. Abrams is about not making a smarter Star Trek. By his own admission he thought the original was “too talky” and they’ve gone out of their way to broadcast how they weren’t fans of the original series and as a result have come up with a movie no smarter than Transformers. Not that I didn’t enjoy Transformers. I did. I even watch it on cable a year later. But no one expected more from Transformers than “big, shiny, boom!” You expect more from Star Trek. The very first episode of the show ever made was about how original captain, Christopher Pike (played here by Bruce Greenwood and I just love that casting), has to fight to escape a perfect alien prison for imperfect freedom and leave behind a woman for whom reality is just too difficult (ironically, Pike would later join her when his body is destroyed and reality also becomes less desirable than a perfect illusion). The first episode actually shown was about Kirk’s best friend being corrupted by godlike power and them having to kill him before he kills them all. The series started out deep, people! Even the films had a core. Wrath of Kahn had all the explosions and jokes, but at its heart it was about Kirk dealing with growing old. The underrated Search For Spock was about sacrificing everything in the name of loyalty and friendship, and, of course, with Voyage Home we were saving the whales. However, there’s nothing at the center of this. It’s a Star Trek movie for people who have always preferred Star Wars. Maybe if the story made an ounce of sense the absence of deeper themes wouldn’t stand out so much, but it doesn’t and they do. A Romulan comes from the future to wreck revenge on Starfleet, specifically Spock because Romulus is destroyed by a natural disaster in the future and Spock failed to save them when he promised he would (the writers also pride themselves on not going “too deep” so that this was the equivalent of someone from New Orleans going back in time to kill George Bush because of Hurricane Katrina was lost on them). The bad guy has no logic to his plan, because rather than take the device that could save his people directly to them 120 years earlier, he just goes off for revenge. And because no one thinks on the good guy side either, neither Kirk nor Spock points this out to him. Also not noticed or examined is that while the bad guy does change the past, things still turn out generally the same. In the changed reality, Kirk’s father dies at the moment he’s born and he grows up a rebel hothead with no purpose, yet he still winds up in Starfleet just the previous Kirk who grew up following his living father into the service. There’s not a second of introspection from him over this. Then again, I wouldn’t want them to sacrifice and one of the three times he gets his ass kicked to allow his character some depth, much less lose the “chased by a monster scene” because that’s what we really want in a Star Trek movie right? Monster and our hero getting pummeled. Script matters aside, the casting is nonetheless top notch, with Zachary Quinto easily coming out on top as we get a seriously smoldering Spock and he and Zoë Saldana as Uhura bring a new sex appeal to the 23rd Century. Everyone from Kirk on down to Scotty delivers in his or her role. If only they’d had a better method of conveyance.
LOGAN BEGINS
X-Men Origins: Wolverine is down to number two and unlike the Star Trek reboot, while the first two X-Men movies changed many things from the comics original form, they nonetheless maintained the essence of the characters so they worked. However, when Brett Ratner the just went “slam bang action” in number three and abandoned all subtext and subtley, it was a disappointment because they’d previously been something more. Unfortunately, this is closer to number three than the first two X-movies, but thankfully you never expected Wolverine to be a treatise on bigotry intolerance, so it fares a bit better. It also has the virtue of a director whose sense of humor is above dick jokes. What Wolverine has always been closest to is Clint Eastwood’s “Man With No Name” (which itself was an adaptation of the wandering samurai from Japanese films). This is very much the “retired gunfighter” being drawn back out for revenge and on that level it works. But it helps that I went in with low expectations. Unlike all these whining, bitching geeks complaining that this doesn’t match the canon of the comic books (which the movies never have to begin with), I went to see a man fight a helicopter, not Hamlet. “To leap or not to leap/That is the question/Whether ‘tis a violation of all physics or not/Shall I be propelled onto this bird of prey/And by opposing end the lives of every muthafucka in this movie who has pissed me off.” One great thing that Hollywood and superhero movies have learned in general is good casting and this is no exception. Liv Schreiber taking over as Sabertooth was inspired, probably because he’s one of the few truly talented actors as tall as Hugh Jackman. The character of Deadpool perfectly fits the shtick of Ryan Reynolds and Danny Houston brings plenty of oily machination as the young William Stryker. But again, the story really doesn’t make the most of their talents. In fact, if you’re here for anyone but Wolverine and Sabertooth expect a little disappointment as appearances by everyone from Gambit to The White Queen to Agent Zero to Cyclops is little more than a glorified cameo. Oh, and that shot of a child Storm in the trailer? Nowhere to be seen in this film, so get ready to buy the DVD. What’s really disappointing is that Batman Begins and Iron Man showed just how good an origin story that focused solely on the character could be and they learned absolutely nothing from that. Wolverine has succeeded in the comics with zero guest stars and over-the-top situations, so why they felt they needed to stack the deck like this for the film is beyond me.
A BOOTY CAROL
Ghosts of Girlfriends Past is down to number three and if you’re going to make a romcom based on A Christmas Carol that’s actually set in the winter, shouldn’t you release it during the holiday season? No? Fine. I guess it’s just me again. Yes, Matthew McConughey is back playing the role that has served him well: the lovable ass bandit who gets tamed by love in the end. But where is Kate Hudson? Can he make a truly crappy movie without her? Well, don’t you fret because another purveyor of bad romantic comedies is here to take her place: Jennifer Garner. At the rate she’s going, Elektra may wind up being one of her better theatrical efforts. But I cannot question the casting of Michael Douglas as the skeevy uncle who taught him everything he knows. That’s genius at work there, pal. Now, A Christmas Carol has survived for as long as it has because it’s just one of those stories so good almost no one can screw it up. Unfortunately, I think McConughey is one of those people by virtue of his very presence. They should have cast someone a bit more vulnerable because with him here you remember the old literary joke about the flaw of A Christmas Carol: “What happened to Scrooge the day after Christmas? He went right back to the way he was before.” EdTV remains the best comedy he ever made (you Dazed and Confused fans can suck it).
NICE GUYS FINISH SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE
Obsessed is down to number four and also in this is Jerry O’Donnell and who’d have thought 20 years ago he’d be the last man standing out of the four main cast members of Stand By Me. River Phoenix accidentally killed himself (though I question if someone who knowingly takes heroin can have that excuse), Corey Feldman ironically was the one to do heroin and live through it, Wil Wheaton was cursed by being the most disliked character of Star Trek: The Next Generation and even the liked cast members can’t find work, which leaves only Jerry O’Donnell who has a new job every other day. Nothing too big or successful, but he’s always working which is not something everyone can say (not to mention Rebecca Romijn at home). Geek connection: he voiced Nightwing in the last Batman series and was Captain Marvel on Justice League. My connection: he went to NYU, though years after me ‘cause I’m older than everybody these days.
I HATE THIS MAN
17 Again is down to number five, followed by Next Day Air opening at number six and the simple fact that Mike Epps is in this means I will only watch it with a gun to my head. Yes, we all love Mos Def and Donald Faison has never lacked for appeal, but Mike Epps is a black hole of obnoxious and unfunny and single-handedly cancels them both out.
I LOVE THIS WOMAN
The Soloist is down to number seven and even though Catherine Keener is in this, I will still never see it. I just don’t care and nothing you say and no one you cast will change that. Now, let’s move on.
THE REST
Monsters vs. Aliens is down to number eight, followed by Earth at number nine and Hannah Montana The Movie closing out the top ten at number ten.
FAMILY MATTERS
There was no top ten last week because I needed to go home for the funeral of my aunt, my father’s younger sister. She’d been battling breast cancer for years and unfortunately it eventually got the best of her. This unfortunately led again to my least favorite conversation with my mom:
“Now, remember. You father and I want to be cremated.”
“Mom!”
“What!?! You’re the oldest. You should know this. Oh, and no life support either.”
“Mom!”
“What!?! Sometimes I think I had three daughters. Sack up, ya Nancy.”
But I do agree with her and want the same. The open casket at my aunt’s funeral only drove this home. That wasn’t her and shouldn’t have to be the last visual memory of anyone who her. I wouldn’t look ant I noticed neither would my mom. Instead, I choose remember the last time I saw her, at her home with her four daughters and one grandson at Christmas two years ago. Or better yet, 30 years earlier, when she was in college in Atlanta and would come to visit us regularly with her friends (one of whom was a boyfriend who wound up being the pastor at her church and of course, at her funeral) stick thin, with her cat-like facial features that made her look like a young Pat Benatar and an afro so large it threatened to envelope her. That was my aunt. But ironically funerals are just as much about life as they are death as the neverending cries of babies and bored children during the ceremony always remind you. There’s never any shortage of humor either, starting with the meal afterwards where, despite the buffet, someone stopped along the funeral procession…to buy Popeye’s Fried Chicken. Did I mention we’re black and this was Alabama? Did I have to? And I found that the geek gene runs deep in my family as my 8-year-old cousin came to me and asked for comic book recommendations after Watchmen, which he admitted the couldn’t see because it was “inappropriate.” It took much convincing on my part for him that the Watchmen book wasn’t for him (when I described it as being a lot of reading, he sighed with exasperation, “I can read, you know.”) and sent him down the road to Frank Miller’s seminal Batman work, The Dark Knight Returns. The next generation is assured.
FAMILY MATTERS PART II
After the funeral, we returned to Georgia in groups. My parents went first and my baby sister and I followed, with my other sister remaining to tie things up with my aunt’s daughters, whom she’d pretty much been looking out after all week, having gone over the moment my aunt entered the hospital. In Atlanta I once again found myself in the odd position of hanging out in a bar with my baby sister. Sorry, but this remains strange to me. She’s my sister. She’s not supposed to be my drinking buddy. I changed her diaper once upon a time and now she’s buying me booze? It does not compute. It was a pre-Cinco de Mayo celebration with a mustache contest and a piñata. If you didn’t have a mustache (which genetics has denied me) you were given a fake one. The piñata breaking took so long we wondered if it weren’t some cruel joke and it was in fact unbreakable. I thought drinking made breaking shit easier to do. And if my sister buying drinks wasn’t disconcerting enough, imagine what it was like to see her gleefully claim the KY jelly packets that were amongst the candy and joke gifts included in the piñata. If I weren’t drinking before, I was certainly drinking then. Unlike the last time she took me out this wasn’t a gay bar, though Atlanta’s lesbian contingent seemed to be out in force, reminding me this wasn’t even close to the city I left behind in ’84. My sister has assembled a nice contingent of friends and I’m not just saying this because I know they’re reading this and they all seem to like me. If I thought they were a buncha lame hicks, I’d say it. In fact if I’d met one of her friends earlier she might be her sister-in-law today, having gotten every single pop culture joke I made, including a reference to a Robbie Robertson song. One of her other friends sitting with us decided to take the mustache contest to a whole new level and opted for the full-on pedophile look with a white Member’s Only jacket and sunglasses. I think we were placed on a FBI watch list just sitting with him. He joined me in a quest for the stick-on tattoos we found in the gum that also came out of the piñata. We literally went through dozens of packets. Our table looked like a 9-year-old’s version of Scarface with piles of pink bubble gum in place of the cocaine. I only meant to stay an hour or so and wound up staying until 1:00, but thankfully the drinks were so weak they were no threat to me when I finally decided to drive home (I swear I would have put those 10 fake tattoos all over my body anyway). They were obviously not what the bar’s owner was consuming when he all but passed out at our table, but that’s the beauty of owning a bar, isn’t it? I wasn’t worried about my sister since she lived around the corner and pretty much knew everyone there even if she needed a ride home. I actually worry more about her sober, as she seems to think 70 mph should be the average speed wherever she goes. One day I’m sure I’ll turn on the news and see her being chased down the Atlanta highway O.J. Simpson style.
GRANDMOTHERS: THE ONLY SURE CURE TO JUNGLE FEVER
While home my 83-year-old grandmother asked me about the “the white girl” she once knew me to have dated. When I told her she was gone, she smiled and replied, “Let her stay gone.” Sorry, ladies but apparently I’m now obligated to keep my geek seed amongst the Nubian daughters of the motherland.
MY DAUGHTER WILL BEAR THE NAME ATHENA CANDICE ANGRYGEEK!
Now that spring is here and summer is coming up behind it, it’s once again time for Chasing Amy and I to consider the serious summer drinking and we began practicing starting off at our new favorite Mexican place in the village with margaritas and the “fondue” they serve which is the lake of cheese with an island of sausage and jalapeños in the center. That we don’t die instantly is a miracle. However this latest pub crawl was tempered somewhat by the realization we’d been doing it for 10 years and everything and nothing has changed, which is kinda sad. And she’s gotten meaner, a product my influence I’m proud to say, even when that is directed at me. We were doing our usual people watch and she made note of one guy who you could tell was probably much better looking 10 years ago, but both his stomach and chin had gotten soft. She then passed this same judgment along to me. Yeah, it’s true, but I didn’t expect her to slap me across the face with it like that. Well done, young jedi. After that we moved on to the New York Hotel, where I’d been taken to years ago back when I tried to date. In turn I had taken Chasing Amy there. Of course, I had no memory of either visit. I mean, it finally came to me (though I had to call the date to confirm), but at first it was a mystery. It’s not all my fault as the place, which was originally a speakeasy, had been somewhat redesigned into a restaurant rather than the pure bar it was before. At bar we met a guy in his 60’s named Harvey who found us quite amusing as somewhere down the line we began talking as if we were married. It came from her joke that we probably looked like a divorced couple that were trying to be friends, because we looked at everyone but each other. I extrapolated a child caught in divorce from this and it became the night’s running joke, especially when she decided the name would be Donata Donatella off of some Ellis Island bullshit in her family’s history. And as if a girl having to go through puberty with “double D” as her initials, Chasing Amy’s last name also begins with D---I was informed my daughter would not have my surname---so then it became “Triple D” and if my family’s genetics kicked in, she might just have the chest to match. So we began fighting over this to the point where Harvey thought we were actually a married couple. Later, after we’d relocated to the East Village (the organic wine bar on 2nd Avenue because she didn’t want to be in the bar where the pretty model types were), the date called and told me she actually knew Harvey and up until last week, Harvey had been dating a 28-year-old he took shopping to Jimmy Choo’s. Yes, Virginia, Harvey was a sugar daddy. Furthermore, Harvey was now looking into her good friend as his next love interest. Upon hearing of this, Chasing Amy repeated her common refrain of the night of rather being dead that fucking someone like that. Personally, I’m now fascinated by Harvey and his women. Once again, only budgetary reasons stopped our drinking, but apparently the recession plan will involve a lot of home drinking, then leaving already lit to go people watch. Sounds good to me.
KUNG FU PANDA
I’ve been inert almost two months now, but ironically despite a diet of strawberry milkshakes literally every night, I’ve lost a total of seven pounds. Okay, so I lost five immediately from the initial trauma, but the other two were all strawberry milkshake, baby! So, while still a doughy fat bastard, there’s technically less of me, so when I went to watch my kung-fu class test on Saturday morning, I wasn’t worried about how I’d look after two months away. Then, of course, my teacher patted my belly and said, “Hey, looks like we’ve got to get you back in here.” Sigh.
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