ROBIN RE-DEUX

1. Iron Man 2/Paramount Wknd/$ 53.0 Total/$ 212.2

2. Robin Hood/Universal Wknd/$ 37.1 Total/$ 37.1

3. Letters to Juliet/ Wknd/$ 13.8 Total/$ 13.8

4. Just Wright/FoxSearchlight Wknd/$ 8.5 Total/$ 8.5

5. How To Train Your Dragon/Para Wknd/$ 5.1 Total/$ 207.8

6. A Nightmare on Elm Street/WB Wknd/$ 4.7 Total/$ 56.1

7. Date Night/Fox Wknd/$ 4.0 Total/$ 86.7

8. The Back Up Plan/CBS Wknd/$ 2.5 Total/$ 34.2

9. Furry Vengeance/ Wknd/$ 2.3 Total/$ 15.1

10. Clash of the Titans/Warner Wknd/$ 1.3 Total/$ 160.2

BLONDE. BIG BOOBS. NOTHING ELSE SEEMS TO MATTER.

Iron Man 2 holds at number one and what this is missing is a big “daylight hero moment.” Iron Man isn’t Batman so why do both films have their climatic battles happening at night when you can’t see jack shit? He’s known as “Golden Avenger” in the comics and you need light for gold to shine, right? Even worse is we have Don Cheadle replacing Terrence Howard as Rhodey who dons a second suit of armor to become War Machine. He’s silver. Know how that looks at night? Exactly. The first film at least had the great scene where he goes to war and kicks ass in broad daylight, fighting actual bad guys. There’s no such scene here to the detriment of the film…much like the casting of Scarlett Johansson. One thing about the first Iron Man movie is that it was nothing but adults. Pretty much no one under 35 in the film. That leant it an air of gravitas, that no matter how fantastic, this was an adult movie. Not so much when your supposed femme fatale looks 14. Now the Black Widow in the comics is a Soviet Super spy who becomes an agent of SHIELD under Nick Fury. This kid couldn’t possibly know anything about the Soviet Union so she’s pretty much made into “generic action female.” There’s nothing unique about her. Also, even though Mickey Rourke’s character is Russian nothing is made of the fact that The Black Widow is also Russian. Here we learned she modeled in Japan. Yawn. They should have cast Mila Jovovich. She’s an old hand at action and she’s over 30. Also, Gwyneth Paltrow wouldn’t look so much like a boy standing next to her. I swear there’s a scene of Gwyneth Paltrow and Scarlett Johansson walking up stairs side-by-side and the difference between their bodies is night and day. That’s the only reason I can think of how she got this role. And what the hell is it with hiring blondes to be redheads!?!

AND WHERE THE HELL ARE THE TIGHTS!?!

Robin Hood opens at number two and do you remember how Christian Slater as Will Scarlet turned out to be Kevin Costner’s bastard brother in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves? Yeah, no one does. See, the only thing people remember about that movie is Kevin Costner’s bad accent. Not even Morgan Freeman gets a pass. Yeah, see you forgot he was even in that. This will join it on the heap living in the shadow of Errol Flynn’s classic, because unlike modern versions, they had the idea it should be fun. Even the underrated classic, Robin and Marian was downer. People don’t got to see Robin Hood to see accurate depictions of 10^th Century England anymore than they want “daddy issues” which this has in common with Kevin Costner’s version. I mean, does Errol Flynn even mention a parent? Like Prince of Thieves and Robin & Marian, Robin is returning from the Crusades. Like Robin & Marian, Richard the Lionhearted is not only insane, but dead before Robin returns to England, but unlike all others before this Robin has never been to Sherwood and Little John and Will Scarlett are his fellow Crusaders. There are versions of the Robin Hood legend where he’s a nobleman and others where he’s a common man. This reconciles them by making Sir Robin of Loxley aide-to-the king a separate person who also dies trying to return the crown to England. He makes Robin Longstride promise to return not only the crown, his sword to his [Loxley’s] father in Sherwood (because he also had daddy issues) where the elder Loxley lives with Robin Loxley’s wife, Maid Marian, who’s currently fighting off both the advances of the Sheriff of Nottingham and the wild boys who live in Sherwood Forest and steal from the town (you see where this is going right?). Longstride has to pretend to be Loxley to get across the channel, but once in Sherwood, is asked to keep pretending to be Loxely by Loxley’s father who---surprise---knew Longstride’s father! What is new in this film are the villains, aka, The French. Yes, Godfrey aligns himself with the French and is encouraging Prince John (he’s king this time, but you wouldn’t know who it was if I called him that) to brutally crack down on tax gathering so sow unrest and allow for invasion. The only better than English-accented villains, are French villains, period. Also new is that Eleanor of Aquitaine is here, trying to reign in her last remaining son. It was getting to the point I half expected Ivanhoe to show up at one point. I mean, William Hurt is here (yeah, William Hurt), so why not? It’s not a bad Robin Hood retelling, but it’s not exceptional either. What’s really funny is that going for authenticity backfires when your stars are actually past the life expectancy of the period. Sean Connery was the same age when he played middle-aged, autumn of his years Robin Hood as Russell Crowe is here playing a Robin Hood just beginning his career (46). This should have been a movie Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley made, not Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett (who at least has a line of expository dialogue describing herself as being an old maid by the standards of the time).

ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD

Letters To Juliet opens at number three and no, it’s not your imagination. You did just see a romantic comedy set in Europe involving an American girl involved with one guy who seemed to busy for her, but spending time with another guy on a road trip. That was called Leap Year and it took place in Ireland with a redhead. This is Letters To Juliet and takes place in Italy with a blonde. See?

AND I NEVER WANT TO INSULT WOOD

Just Wright opens at number four and I’ll join everyone else and say Queen Latifah deserves a better movie than this. She makes a wonderfully charming lead (mainly because she’s playing herself), but is failed by an unimaginative script and a leading man whose name aptly describes his acting talent, Common. Common approaches each and every scene with a strangely surprised look on his face like a four year old boy seeing the giant blue whale at the Museum of Natural History for the first time. And after that comes the “acting” that to describe as “wooden” would be kind to him and an insult to wood. It’s a by-the-numbers story kept afloat by her and her alone as they fail to make any of the other characters even remotely interesting or memorable. And when they do try to give a character some depth it’s thirty seconds of expository dialogue too little, too late to explain what’s been going on for the last hour-and-a-half.

LIKE A PLAGUE HE’S SPREADING…

How To Train Your Dragon is down to number five, followed by A Nightmare on Elm Street at number six and Date Night at number seven oddly giving Common two films in the top ten.

IN THE DIRECTOR’S CUT EVERYONE DIES IN THE FINAL ACT

The Back Up Plan is down to number eight and believe it or not this piece of fluff comes from a man who directed episodes of Rome, Big Love and Six Feet Under. I guess he felt due for a serious break on drama.

ON THE OTHER HAND HE’S GIVING BAD MOVIES MORE WEIGHT THAN THEY DESERVE

Furry Vengeance is down to number nine with Clash of the Titans closing out the top ten and this gives Danny Huston two films in the top ten as he’s also in Robin Hood.

AMAZONS UNDER THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE

You know the saying “what good does it do a man to gain the whole world if he loses his soul?” Well, I’ll tell you what good it does: a two-bedroom duplex on the South Street Seaport with an outdoor deck on each level. I was at one such place this weekend for a party thrown by Not Reese Witherspoon (the beautiful Nordic blonde who recently got married), for one of her fabulous gay friends. It’s the clear benefit of “working for the man.” Her husband works in finance and she works for the devil himself: Wal-Mart. But the payoff is they have two decks both with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. Of course they won’t see me down there in the winter, but on a nice spring night, your soul suddenly feels like baggage you don’t need. Especially when it’s keeping you from a view. In fact, the need to use the deck is why the party was scheduled to start around 4:30. I got there at six. Sorry, but I had to ride my bike and take in some of the 9^th Avenue Food Festival. A further delay came when Surrogate Sister (who had invited me) told me I had to dress. I was planning to go in cargo shorts and t-shirt before being informed she’d made her husband change his outfit, so that was not going to fly. See, Not Reese Witherspoon was formerly in fashion and all her friends (including Surrogate Sister) are like-mined. The birthday boy is a buyer for Saks, for god’s sake. As she told me “The Fashion Police will be in effect.” I decided to go with a white linen shirt with jeans with a faded blue wash and casual white sneakers and it was a wise decision as both Not Reese Witherspoon and Surrogate Sister were also in white linen, garnering me instant approval. We looked like an old-school Benetton ad. Another one of the fashion police was a redhead with her own jewelry line who also had waist-length ponytail, which made her look like a character from Wonder Woman called Artemis (who once took over for Wonder Woman). It was an apt comparison as she would later display a similar attitude. As soon as I walked in my white shoes came up, because her disapproval was something she’d been discussing with early with her 60-something uncle---who’d been a fit model for 30 years. As is the prerogative of pretty people, he looked like he was in his 50’s. I didn’t get an opinion from the other male model who came with Heidi (who makes handbags). Heidi was also at the wedding and I respect her now more than ever because her date at the wedding was the man I called “Mancandy” another obvious model. She clearly accessorizes people. But Artemis and Heidi later had a disturbingly casual conversation about plastic surgery, as the Heidi had a small bruise under her left eye from a recent procedure (I’m assuming botox). Artemis broke it down to Heidi just what she should have gotten done, how it should be done and why she should get in her doctor’s ass over it clearly being done wrong. It was interesting, sad and scary all at the same time. It got scarier when Artemis discussed how she does business, which was in a serious “don’t fuck with my money” fashion. I guess what made it scary was that she seemed to be flirting with me at the time, but as is my way, I clearly did something wrong as she left the outside group for the inside group and never came back. Later I heard she mistook my utter incompetence for “being a player.” That’s the second biggest compliment I’ve gotten this month. The biggest was one night when five incredibly pretty Asian girls clearly going to or coming from a party where they wore little Catwoman ears and librarian glasses were walking up 9^th Avenue. After they passed, I turned to get another look at them to find one looking back at me. Yes, I’m easily pleased. In any case, once dinner was done (a lasagna made with spicy sausage, amazing garlic bread, mozzarella on sliced tomoatoes; poached salmon and something green I didn’t touch) and the drinks took hold, we of the outside group cranked up the iPod and the deck dancing began, the goal being as old school as we could find. That was achieved when “Double Dutch Bus” came on and I was immediately yanked back to the Regan years (it was later used in Missy Elliot's "Gossip Folks"). This continued on until we’d more or less danced ourselves sober at which point it was time to go home, even as the group of people who’d arrived later where breaking open more wine to begin the late shift. Not me. I closed a bar with my sister last week and actually have invitations to two parties this week, at least one I have to make. I have to pace myself. I’m too old for this shit.

DEATH NEEDS A PORTRAIT

Fantasy and heavy metal lost a god this week when Frank Frazetta, he of heavily muscled men and thick thighed women died. Heavy metal suffered another loss with the death of James Dio and we all lost Lena Horne. Damn. This is seriously happening every week. I mean none of them were young but some people live so long you think they’ll never die.