GREECE. ITALY. DIFFERENT.

1. The Kung Fu Kid/Sony Wknd/$ 56.0 Total/$ 56.0

2. The A-Team/Fox Wknd/$ 26.0 Total/$ 26.0

3. Shrek Forever After/Dreamworks Wknd/$ 15.8 Total/$ 210.1

4. Get Him To The Greek/Universal Wknd/$ 10.1 Total/$ 36.5

5. Killers/Lion’s Gate Wknd/$ 8.2 Total/$ 30.7

6. Prince of Persia: Sands of Time/Touch Wknd/$ 6.6 Total/$ 72.3

8. Sex & The City 2/WB Wknd/$ 5.5 Total/$ 84.7

7. Marmaduke/Fox Wknd/$ 6.6 Total/$ 22.3

9. Iron Man 2/Paramount Wknd/$ 4.6 Total/$ 299.3

10. Splice/Warner Wknd/$ 2.9 Total/$ 13.1

GREECE? ITALY? DIFFERENT.

The Kung Fu Kid opens at number one and---What? Yeah, that’s what I’m calling it because calling it The Karate Kid is just dumb. Kung fu is not karate any more than China is Japan, any more than Greece is Italy. It’s nothing short of ignorance, arrogance and flat out greed to call this movie the Karate Kid, when it’s kung fu he’s studying in fucking China with Jackie fucking Chan no less! While I enjoyed it, I must admit that it’s somewhat mitigated by me trying to watch Rush Hour the night before. I’d never seen it because I hate Chris Tucker and pairing him with Brett Ratner as director only means a steaming pile of shit the likes of which this world rarely sees. I wasn’t wrong, but what made it even worse was the fearless display of his utter ignorance in the face of another culture. I was half-expecting him to make a “pee pee in your coke” joke at one point. How and why Jackie Chan didn’t punch them both out all day ever day is beyond me. Then again, he’s got a high tolerance for pain. Now, I was never any huge fan of The Karate Kid. I was just starting out in martial arts myself at the time and in typical teenage fashion of taking things I liked much too seriously, I found flaw in every single part of it. For one it was too damn long. Secondly, he should have had his ass handed to him at the end with that bullshit crane kick. Third, the neverending use of stunt doubles was obvious. Fourth, it was too long. Yes, it’s annoying enough to be mentioned twice. This is still a bit too long, but they wonderfully cut back on the romance subplot, Jaden Smith looks like he learned something for the role and of course we have Jackie Chan, playing the kind of role he should be playing these days, the older, wiser teacher. He still should have lost in the end, because the bad kids are clearly top notch martial artists, but you actually get the feeling he can hold his own a lot better than Ralph Macchio ever could. The plot is one of the oldest in the book and works now for the same reason it worked then: the underdog beating the odds to win (and gets the girl). After all, it’s not a coincidence that the director of The Karate Kid was also the director of Rocky. It’s also no coincidence that the son of Will Smith has natural charm and charisma. This is one instance where nepotism works out.

AN A-TEAM OF LOSERS

The A-Team opens at number two and this contains a crack covert ops team out for revenge on the flamboyantly weasely CIA agent with who framed them. Sound familiar? That’s because it came out two months ago and was called “The Losers.” And honestly it was better, because unlike so many, I have no nostalgic affection for The A-Team. I was already too old for a show like that when it debuted and just as I took The Karate Kid too seriously because of my age, I took my stupid action TV too seriously as well and had no patience for either this or Knight Rider. One advantage The Losers had over this was that the set up is done in the first ten minutes of the movie. We’re at least 30-40 minutes in before The A-Team is even a group of fugitives seeking revenge. We get the pre-credit action sequence as to how the team was formed, then the action sequence in circumstances that get them into trouble, and then we start the story. The problem is, the raison d’etre of The A-Team is “plan outrageous scheme then execute outrageous scheme.” By the time the actual plot gets going, we’re seeing it for umpteenth time. It’s already old hat. Had the “flying tank” scene come 20 minutes earlier and not been the second air battle of the movie, it might have been more impressive. Mr. T and Dirk Benedict have already spoken out against this and for the dumbest reasons ever. Dirk Benedict is clearly making a second career out of busting on remakes of his 80’s work (he’s already gone off on the Battlestar Galactica reinvention). What makes this especially crazy is that he has a fucking cameo (as does Dwight Schultz). And Mr. T is going by some insane logic of the violence on the TV show being okay because there were no consequences for the violence like blood or death. Someone really needs to explain to him why that’s not better. Use small words, fool. But it’s really sad that they didn’t bother hiring an actor to play Mr. T’s role. Not that he was playing anything other than himself, but he could actually do that. This guy is an MMA fighter and it’s clearly beyond him and is actually a bit of a hole in a movie where everyone else does their jobs, especially in the smaller roles, like Patrick Wilson as the ultimate fratboy douchebag CIA agent and Brian Bloom as the very enthusiastic assassin sometimes working with him. Clearly, they saw “big black guy” and that was enough. Thought they’d get some of the MMA money, only to ironically lose those people probably to The Kung Fu Kid.

AND IN THE END, BEING PRETTY IS ALL THAT MATTERS

Shrek Forever After is down to number three and they’re already working on the Puss In Boots movie and don’t pretend you won’t be there. I know I will. Antonia Banderas will sit on his money and laugh at those who think he wishes he were Javier Bardeem. For one, Javier Bardeem ain’t pretty.

THIS IS WHY IT’S CALLED “WORK”

Get Him To The Greek is down to number four and Judd Apatow owes a movie to Carla Bruno like nobody’s business given he keeps giving her small, thankless roles in his productions in roles that could easily be described as “The Vagina.” In Superbad she’s the girl with her period who bleeds while humping Jonah Hill’s leg. In Forgetting Sarah Marshall she’s the girl in the sex montage who wants a gag and here she’s some drunk party girl who bones Jonah Hill because Puffy tells her to (I didn’t see her in I Love You Man or Funny People, but she’s there and I’m sure not doing much better). The twist is she has her pubic hair shaved into the shape of a microphone (not that we see it). And when I say “bones him” I mean she takes a large dildo out of her purse and shoves it up his ass. Noel Coward you are missed. On top of these roles she’s been a porn star on Californication where she was the lover to Harry from Sex & The City and she was also the young girlfriend to Scott Bakula on Men of A Certain Age. She’s paid her dues! She needs to get paid to make out with Paul Walker in a romantic comedy.

SECOND CITY TRAINED, BITCHES!

The Killers is down to number five and did I mention how Catherine O’Hara effortless steals every scene she’s in? Not that it’s difficult given her competition is Katherine Heigl, Ashton Kutcher and Tom Selleck, but that’s what happens when you give a talented comedian even the smallest amount to work with. And they only give her the smallest amount to work with here.

EVEN LUKE KISSED HIS SISTER

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time is down to number six and one of the many reasons they blew this was that they didn’t take into account the female audience. You’ve probably seen a dozen articles and pictures about how Jake Gyllenhaal got into shape for this. Know how many times he takes his shirt off? Once. Also, his romance with Gemma Atkinson leaves something to be desired. When I saw The Bourne Identity, there were a gaggle of young women in the front there to see Matt Damon and despite being a balls out action flick the romance was perfect for them, because despite being a super-agent, Jason Bourne was also vulnerable. He needed her help and when the love scene was instigated, she was the instigator, not him. I don’t even remember if Gemma Atkinson and Jake Gyllenhaal even kiss in this. I remember a lot of forced bickering though.

GRANDPA’S FAVORITE MOVIE

Marmaduke actually only drops one notch to number seven. I guess the seniors are getting out more.

WHAT DOES A SINGLE GIRL IN NYC KNOW ABOUT SEX & THE CITY ANYWAY?

Sex and The City 2 is down to number eight and once again, Geek Girl The Next Generation:

There's a lot about SATC that doesn’t make sense and never has. That Carrie has an endless shoe budget on a writers' salary or that anyone pays her in the first place to "not help but wonder" about the driest innuendos that Michael Patrick King can dream up in his Pink Plush Book o' Pithy Puns. But beyond the Louboutins, the handsome men, and the inexplicability of any of them being friends with Charlotte York McDougall Rosenblatt O'PleaseStabMyEardrums lies a tacit theme (intentionally or not) about the necessity of a close group of friends and a love for oneself in order to edge around the huge, gaping chasm of loneliness and confusion that exists within the hum and bustle and crowdedness of this huge city (as Carrie basically says in the finale). I get this as a city girl, and that's why I've personally loved the series. Although the show ended on a satisfying note, there's still a part of me that wished I could hold on a bit longer. And because millions of fans felt the same, it seemed logical to milk the series for money with a big screen treatment. While I thought the first movie was generally okay because of its sincere---if not heavy-handed and a bit simplistic---exploration in the characters finding themselves again and helping each other through relationship troubles, I feel like SATC2 pulled down its LaPerla knickers and ceremoniously shit on my appreciation for the series' efforts at sincerity. SJP described this movie in the press as a "romp." That it was, in certain parts and would've been perfectly fine if this was a counter-fluff movie to all the emotional distress the first movie dragged out. We need fluff! We need to see Liza dancing to "Single Ladies" and the braless nanny and Noah Mills' perfect ass thrusting and thrusting and...sorry, I'm back. But Michael Patrick King had to emphasize important themes to show that this is one of the Most Serious Female Movies of Its Time. SATC2 made us painfully aware of the women's dreadful hardships: by showing how difficult it is for Charlotte to be a mother who's too high-strung to realize that she has it made with multimillion dollar assets, a patient and loving husband, and a full-time nanny all at her disposal. By erasing Samantha's somewhat legendary self-confidence and resolve towards graceful aging by reducing her to a caricature that rubs yams on her body because she's afraid her ovaries will shrivel on vacation (she handles breast cancer with aplomb, but freaks out because she can't take multivitamins?). And by having Carrie get pissed because her husband---you know, the one who she spent years trying to get with, the one who has fully committed to her and enjoys coming home to her every night---can't read her mind after two years of marriage. ISN'T IT TERRIBLE (best subtle joke: when she asks Chris Noth if she’s a bitch, he doesn’t answer and looks away)!?! Miranda often seems like the least terrible out of the four, but this is how I legitimize her fourth-banana status. Terrible sells more than logic. I also took to task the whole "OH GOD THESE WOMEN ARE SO OPPRESSED SO LET'S GO RIDE CAMELS AND MAKE DICK JOKES" nature of the visit to Abu Dhabi. There were various burka-related bon mots throughout the movie that annoyed me--they seemed blissfully ignorant in the delivery of their "covering women is evil" messages. I'm not saying I necessarily agree with or understand the place of women in Middle Eastern Muslim countries, but I definitely wouldn't take pride in being an intentional asshole and flouting social mores while in respective countries (unless I'm planning on leading Operation Enduring Freedom from my ranch in Crawford). Was I supposed to sympathize with Samantha for going to another region of the world in which, as most informed adults know, there are consequences for men and women touching in public, let alone deep-throating a hookah, grabbing a dude's boner and taking off one's clothes in plans to fuck on the beach in public? Oh, I was, wasn't I? Because I'm woman and I am strong, I am invincible, and tackily insensitive of other cultures! Which leads to my final gripe: who the fuck is supposed to know all the words to a Helen Reddy song outside of 1972? Did I miss that missive at the Spring Feminist Picnic? There are other lady-awesome songs that don't make you want to drown in your own spittle.

SHUT UP AND LOOK PRETTY ALREADY

Iron Man 2 is down to number nine and by now you should have seen it and know that after the credits we get a teaser for the upcoming Thor movie which will be better that this if for no other reason that it wasn’t written by an actor.

THE END

Finally, Splice closes out the top ten at number ten.

IT’S NOT THE DESTINATION BUT THE VOYAGE

This weekend was yet another party thrown by one of the Jezebel girls, but the caveat this time was it was in Manhattan. And not just in Manhattan, but also in a new building right next to my old digs on 100^th & Columbus. I’d forgotten how much I loved living on the Upper West Side, but not as much as how much I enjoyed being able to get home in less than an hour after being out. There was a time I’d almost never go to Brooklyn because that trip home was either expensive or time consuming, but it seems my tolerance level for pain has increased in all facets of my life not just my body, because I don’t even think about it any longer. Well, the effortless trip home Saturday night took care of that. It was just too easy. I can’t go back to that endless drudgery of waiting for train from Brooklyn then the fucking ride itself. Besides, I need more “me” time. These comic books aren’t going to read themselves you know!

THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE! WELL, RECLINES ON THE SOFA WATCHING RERUNS ALONE ANYWAY.

So, after getting to the point where I’d be working out in some form or another five days a week and seeing no progress, I’ve finally admitted to the actual problem: I’m cursed and will have to sacrifice a goat to the full moon to lift it. Only with the forgiveness of almighty Zeus will the belly disappear! Well, that or it’s what I eat, which is why I’m actually trying to eat better. How much better? I’ve actually switched to turkey bacon. But I’ve got to research it more, because there’s got to be less-lame tasting turkey bacon than the brand I bought, which is like meaty-tasting rubber. I won’t say better, because it’s always going to be lame by comparison to real bacon. I’ve also cut out my candy snacking at work, my desserts are now fruit smoothies (with the oh-so-noticeable Greek yogurt) and actually went three whole days with no cheese. I even bought one of those books about healthy meal-eating (it unfortunately has oily muscled abs on the cover so it looks like I’m reading gay porn), but like most of those books it’s filled with shit you either don’t want to eat or looks too difficult to make no matter how simple they say it is. But I’ve figured out the key to the first: once you’ve given up the fun snacking you really enjoy (candy, cookies, cheese), you’re so fucking hungry that slices of avocado on toast sound good to you (yes, that’s a fucking breakfast recipe). But there’s one thing I just cannot get behind: the constant eating of nuts. Every other thing involves freaking almonds. Even the ad on the back over is for almonds! Fuck that! I agree with Emily from The Devil Wears Prada: what I need is a good stomach flu. Quick, effective and no real effort on my part.

AMERICA, FUCK YEAH!

The World Cup…ah, who the fuck cares?