DRIZZLE

1. Tropic Thunder/Par-DW Wknd/$ 26.0 Total/$ 37.0
2. Batman: Dark Knight/WB Wknd/$ 16.8 Total/$ 471.5
3. Star Wars: The Clone Wars/WB Wknd/$ 15.1 Total/$ 15.5
4. Mirrors/Fox Wknd/$ 11.1 Total/$ 11.1
5. Pineapple Express/Sony Wknd/$ 10.0 Total/$ 62.9
6. The Mummy 3/Universal Wknd/$ 8.6 Total/$ 86.6
7. Mamma Mia/Universal Wknd/$ 6.5 Total/$ 116.4
8. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 Wknd/$ 5.9 Total/$ 19.7
9. Step Brothers/Sony Wknd/$ 5.0 Total/$ 90.9
10.Vicky Cristina Barcelona Wknd/$ 3.7 Total/$ 3.7

SEMI TROPIC DRIZZLE
Tropic Thunder dethrones The Dark Knight after a month, opening at number one. If you’ve ever seen the old Ben Stiller Show, you know that something like this has been a long time coming (“Advantage Aggassi” a sketch about Andre Agassi as an action adventure hero). And as 5-10 minute sketch on the show this may have been brilliant, but stretched out to two hours, it’s a little thin. If you’re going to flesh it out to two hours, you have to actually give the characters something beyond their one-note descriptions. The exception to this rule being Robert Downey Jr. as an Australian actor who’s doing what he thinks is a Black man. He takes it and goes off running leaving the rest of them to struggle with what little they have, most notably Jack Black as a comedic actor trying to get some dramatic respectability while dealing with a drug problem. There’s literally no other way to describe his character he’s given so little depth. And then they don’t have the courage of their convictions when he betrays the team to get drugs. Ben Stiller is the director, so of course he gets the most backstory, but the funniest part of it is Matthew McConughey as his agent, literally named Pecker (mocking agents was always a staple of Stiller’s show). But no thin joke is more stretched out than Tom Cruise under a few layers of make-up as the obnoxious mogul producing the film. If it had been a cameo role, it might have been great, but it just doesn’t seem to end. Like most of what he does outside of his own movie star milieu, he’s trying too hard and you’d think someone as good with comedy as Ben Stiller would know enough to rein him in, but you’d be wrong. A two second joke about how he likes to dance to hip-hop, is run into the ground with dance number that ends the film and seeming goes on forever. All I can think of is how much better someone like Vince Vaughn would have been in the role.

RHETT BUTLER IS RICHER THAN BRUCE WAYNE
Batman: The Dark Knight is down to number two and if you’re wondering if this has beaten Titanic yet, stop wondering. In fact, stop thinking of Titanic as the biggest movie of all time, because when adjusted for inflation, Gone With The Wind still rules the roost, a feat all the more impressive when you realize it did so with fewer people, fewer theaters and cheaper tickets. When adjusted for inflation Titanic is actually #6 while The Dark Knight comes up at #39, though finally surpassing the first Batman movie at #48. Can you believe that piece of shit is one of the 50 biggest movies of all time even when adjusted for inflation. The real target for The Dark Knight is Spider-Man, which sits at number #33 on the All Time Adjusted For Inflation list. If it passes that, then it will be the biggest comic book movie ever made. Superman The Movie is down at #61 because you bitches are weak and lack soul. Of course if you don’t adjust for inflation, The Dark Knight is #2 to Titanic domestically and $130M behind it, which it will not make at this point. Worldwide, it’s #19 putting it behind two Spider-Man movies, two Pirates of the Carribean, two Star Wars, one Shrek, one Jurassic Park, Finding Nemo and every Lord of The Rings and Harry Potter movie.

AND I HEAR THERE’S NO CRAWL AT THE BEGINNING
Star Wars: The Clone Wars the animated feature opens at number three and once upon a time a Star Wars movie opening at anything but number one was unthinkable. Then came the prequel trilogy and now this is no surprise to anyone. I mean, who gives a shit about these lackluster events or characters!?! Especially when we know how it’s all going to end? And there’s going to be a TV series too!?! To show you just how bankrupt Lucas’s imagination really is, notice how he never does anything with Luke, Leia and Han. It’s much easier to tell the story of a rebellion than it is to tell the story of establishing a republic. God knows he couldn’t tell the story of the fall of one. I suppose I should be grateful, but that does seem the logical progression, does it not? And this has already been done once before and well with the 5 minute Clone Wars shorts on The Cartoon Network. In fact it’s sadly the success of that excellent series that this even exists. It was proof the cow could be milked and milked well. Unfortunately, one of my geeks loved it and given that I George Lucas didn’t write it I might use some free passes I’ve got laying around to go one night. I’ve got two. Who wants to come suffer with me?

WHAT’S REALLY SCARY IS THAT THREE MUSKETEERS WITH CHARLIE SHEEN
Mirrors opens at number four and I think we know how I feel about the scary, so there’s zero chance of me ever seeing this, but let me state how unusual it is to see a horror film which isn’t based on a Japanese movie or isn’t torture porn (but don’t worry, Saw 5 is coming this Halloween). Keifer Sutherland is apparently aware he can’t ride the 24 train forever and wants back into features. And what’s the easiest way to do this, kids? Yes, that’s right: genre films which have built in audiences so the stars actually don’t matter. If it succeeds it’s essentially a freebie in your “win” column. This however, is not a win. I know “counter-programming” for the summer seems like a good idea, but at this late date, you might as well wait for Halloween.

IZZAT YOU, MOOKIE?
Pineapple Express is down to number five and also in this is none other than Rosie Perez. Believe it or not, she does a lot of theater in New York these days. Yeah, with that voice. I wonder if she still talks to JLo? Right now she’s a little pissed with Kanye West who talks about her boobs in a song. Um, Rosie, you can count on one hand minus the thumb how many 40-something women are mentioned in a current song by a 20-something man, so you should take it and fucking run with it. There’s good chance 90% of the kids listening to it have no idea who you fucking are, considering you first showed those boobs onscreen in 1989.

‘MONEY, MONEY, MONEY…”
The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Warrior is down to number six, followed by Mama Mia at number seven and can I tell you how much I respect ABBA for never, ever fucking reuniting. They face up to a billion dollar payoff if they do, but they won’t. Most bands, death itself won’t stop them (yes, Queen, I’m looking at you), but these guys are like, “Nope. That shit is too painful. I’m not going back.” And money really can’t move them considering their greatest hits is back at number one. They’ve never stopped getting paid.

MR. SHOW…ME MALE MENOPAUSE
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is down to number eight and Amber Tamblyn is dating old-ass David Cross. Just goes to show you no matter how counter-culture a man seems, young pussy will make liars of us all.

I MEAN YOU WOULDN’T CALL IT ALVY ANNIE MANHATTAN, WOULD YOU?
Step Brothers is down to number nine, followed by Vicky Cristina Barcelona opening at number ten probably because even art film lovers are down for a little girl-on-girl action (as if there’d ever be actual sex in a Woody Allen film). This is the latest from what will inevitably be known as Woody Allen’s “Twilight Expatriate Period” that series of films he made overseas when domestic funds ran dry that actually generated a brief spark of creativity. I’m not saying we will ever return to the halcyon days of the late 70’s and early 80’s, but neither are we at the rock bottom period of Deconstructing Harry and Celebrity or more recently, Anything Else, Curse of the Jade Scorpion and Hollywood Ending. His new muse is obviously Scarlett Johansson and I must be the only man alive who just doesn’t get it. Yes, I see the bee stung lips and the boobs, but so what? For me, the most notable thing about her is her voice. Well, this is her third film with Woody Allen so he obviously loves her. Here she plays Cristina who along with her friend, Vicky (played by Rebecca Hall), is spending July and August in Barcelona. Vicky is working on her thesis on Catalan culture, while Cristina is just getting away from a failed relationship and failed artistic endeavors. As with most Woody Allen films, this takes place within a certain monied class. The girls are staying with relatives of Vicky’s who are obviously very well off and at one point when Cristina decides to go off to Paris for two weeks, there’s never any indication how she’s paying for any of this. It’s a fantasy life we’d all like to lead, where our only concerns are art and love. The girls are approached by an artist played by Javier Bardeem and I give Woody Allen points for never pretending he’s good looking, ‘cause he ain’t. Sexy, yes, and it’s on full display here, but not good looking. He wants them both and while the wilder Scarlett Johansson is down for it, the more sensible, engaged Rebecca Hall is not. Needless to say, both he and Spain wear her down. Afterwards, however, he takes up with Scarlett Johansson while Rebecca Hall questions the plans she’s made for her life. Javier Bardeem and Scarlett Johansson began an actual relationship, which takes an odd turn when the ex-wife (Penelope Cruz) whom he obviously stilly loves though she put a knife into him returns and begins living with them and sleeping with them both (Javier Bardeem and Penelope Cruz are the rare couple who shine together onscreen). In the meantime, domesticity comes to Spain for Rebecca Hall when her nice guy, non-exciting fiancée comes to Spain to get married. It’s not a bad way to spend 90 minutes and everyone and every thing in it is easy on the eyes. If they got a tax break from the Spanish government to shoot, that was money well surrendered because it borders on a tourism ad at times. This isn’t a comedy, per se, and we’re probably better off for it, as his gifts have long since left him in that arena. This is more a light drama that’s painless to see, but no great loss if you don’t.

MORE MORON TALES OF BIKING…
Because I decided to give my injured body another week to heal before returning to kung fu I only biked last week. We get out of work early on Fridays in the summer, so I was able to grab a quick ride in the afternoon, this time an extension of the ride downtown to Battery Park that I usually during the week at night. The bike map indicated there was some way around to the path under the FDR where I’d been before, only I could never find it. On Wednesday night however, I saw a woman jogging in that direction and decided to follow her. Sure enough, she led me right to it. I took that up to Delancy, then rode over to 2nd and then take the bike lane on Prince Street back over the West Side where I’d take that path back up. It was interesting finally seeing it in the day. And I use the term “seeing” loosely as I decided to forgo my glasses for my non-prescription sunglasses. I figured the glare of the sun would leave me blind anyway so I chose the option that made me look cool. “Who’s the dead biker?” “I dunno, but he looks hot in those shades.”

IN THE LAND OF WOMEN
In a shocking development I spent my weekend mostly in the company of women, spanning the generations.

Friday
Friday night was another Jezebel drinking night, albeit a short one. The Jezebel gathering was uncharacteristically at a bar called McGee’s on 55th between 8th and Broadway, best known these days from How I Met Your Mother, which is never a good sign, considering that show blows. It was a little too testosterone-douchey for our group, even when we adjourned to the upstairs, but we made the most of it, actually having Jezebel staff members show up. One thing I have noticed about the group aside from a couple of dudes now showing up is that the color quotient has increased and by the end of the night the remaining six of us were all people of color, which became our joke. And I love the way fate fucks with me by introducing me now to a pretty Black girl getting her masters in Film Theory. Yeah, that’s funny. I will not become David Cross.

Saturday
Unfortunately, this night of drinking guaranteed I wouldn’t be up before noon on Saturday for wedding dress shopping with The Libertine at Kleinfelds’s because, yes, I am that much of a girlfriends. It wasn’t as important as it sounds, considering she already bought a gorgeous dress. This was more checking things out to reassure her choice. She did have her bridesmaid with her so I met them later at Barney’s, where she spent as much on shoes as she did on her dress, though on pair were for her bridesmaid who did accompany her to Kleinfeld’s. It was for the best I didn’t help her there either, as my choice would have been the $1000 Laboutants and not the $700 Mahnolo’s she chose. After that we walked down 5th, stopping at Tiffany’s of course to look at engagement rings, though she obviously has her rock, then to Saks to look at more shoes, passing the painfully perfect dude being forced to stand shirtless in low-slung jeans in the doorway to Abercrombie & Fitch. There was a line to apparently take pictures with him. Pretty boy bastard. After this, we were too close to Kenneth Cole not to visit and while my desire for a loafer with a buckle remained unfulfilled I did find a nice version of the military-style jacket I’VE ONLY BEEN LOOKING FOR FOR THE PAST YEAR, THANKS FOR NOTHING, PEOPLE! Unfortunately it only comes in gray. After that we headed down to The Spotted Pig on W 11th for dinner. I should say we put our names down for dinner two hours later. We killed the time by taking a trip to The Pleasure Chest, as Babeland was just too far away. The Libertine needed a new vibrator as she’s pretty much destroyed her rabbit. Also she was tired of buying batteries and this new one is a Magic Wand type of thing that not only plugs in, but also has different attachments for enhanced pleasure and apparently mixing drinks and small home repairs. I don’t watch Iron Chef so I had no idea the reason The Spotted Pig has such a waiting time is because its chef is a woman who won it. She was actually there cooking that night, as The Bridesmaid was a fan and identified her. As you may have guessed, the place is not for vegetarians, heavy on the meat products, especially the other white meat. Now, the idea of a prune wrapped in bacon may sound a bit daunting, but as we know, bacon makes everything wonderful and this particular appetizer alone was worth the wait to me, much less the burger I had with Roquefort cheese on it. Sorry, but I wasn’t southern enough to go for the pig’s ear and too American to go for the beef tongue, though now I have no doubt they were probably wonderful. The only blight on our evening was the couple next to us and the only way this asshole could have been more of a douchebag would have been to flip the collar on his polo shirt up. One of the reasons The Libertine and I get along is that we enjoy just watching people and making catty remarks, so think twice before you wear those heels with those short shorts. You might as well wear a shirt that reads, “No One Knows I’m A Slut.” And while wedges are better, not by much. That shirt reads, “No, Seriously. No One Knows I’m A Slut.” And, dude, just because you’re gay doesn’t make every fashion choice you make “adventurous.” That’s just another word for “bad.”

Sunday
The Former Miss Pretty Boy is a mom! She had her baby back in May I think (I can’t be sure since my spam filter doesn’t like her and ships all her announcements into the trash) and now that actual social smiles have begun it was time to see her because I’ve had enough of deluding myself that gas was actually meant for me. We met for brunch down on the lower east side on Ludlow & Broome near where she lives. Little Miss Pretty Boy is 14 pounds happy and healthy. Well, at least she was until apparently my excuse for facial hair scratched her cheek and she started crying. Since we all know I can’t grow facial hair worth shit, it actually turned out to be the heat, because she remained cranky for the rest of brunch, but after going to a cooler home and taking a little nap, she was nothing but giggles and smiles. Of course, being a moron, I forgot to bring my camera, but she’s two seconds away from crawling and I’ll be back for that.

OMFG!
My Gossip Girl sightings continue as I saw Serena and Dan, aka, Blake Lively and Penn Bagley on 1st Avenue near Houston. Now, all I need are Chuck, Blair and Little J.

“ THEN THE ENGLISH POP SOUL INVASION OF THE NEW MILLENIUM TOOK A SURPRISING TURN…”
Speaking of Kanye West, I love Estelle’s “American Boy.” It’s got that nice muffled bass sound I like so much. Finally, a Black girl from England is singing R&B. The irony of Amy Winehouse, Duffy and Adele from the nation that pioneered the idea of “whitness” was overwhelming. Then again, Estelle is aided by John Legend, Will I. Am and Kanye West, so basically to give English Sistas work, we had to go over and do it ourselves. Though god forbid they create some over here.