LOW FIDELITY

1. Beverly Hills Chihuahua/Disney Wknd/$ 29.0 Total/$ 29.0
2. Eagle Eye/Par-DW Wknd/$ 17.7 Total/$ 54.6
3. Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist/Sony Wknd/$ 12.0 Total/$ 12.0
4. Nights In Rodanthe/Warner Wknd/$ 7.4 Total/$ 25.1
5. Appaloosa/WB Wknd/$ 5.0 Total/$ 5.6
6. Lakeview Terrace/Screen Gems Wknd/$ 4.5 Total/$ 32.1
7. Burn After Reading/Focus Wknd/$ 4.1 Total/$ 51.6
8. Fireproof/Gold Wknd/$ 4.1 Total/$ 12.5
9. An American Carol/ Wknd/$ 3.8 Total/$ 3.8
10.Religulous/Lions Gate Wknd/$ 3.5 Total/$ 3.5

BEHOLD, THE POWER OF THE HIPSTER
Beverly Hill Chihuahua opens at number one and never underestimate the power of an ironic hipster. A month or so ago, it became a mission of the website Defamer to make this seemingly atrocity into the must see movie amongst hipsters because it’s an atrocity. Now, this was attempted before with Snakes on a Plane, but that crashed and burned (no pun intended) I think perhaps, because the studio was in on the joke, which was death to the original hipster intent. Not so here and combined with the built in family audience, it’s the most unexpected number one in quite a while. That’s about all I know about this movie and all I care to know.

WHERE FOR ART THOU, SLING BLADE?
Eagle Eye is down to number two and also in this is Billy Bob Thornton and there was a time he was the epitome of indie film and now here he is sleepwalking though crap like this---probably to pay for his neverending series of ex-wives, though I’m sure Angelina isn’t taking any cash. And I’m pretty sure finding out that they’re still close was as much of a surprise to her as it was to the rest of us.

FINITE LIKE A CD
Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist opens at number three and I was looking forward to this because I’m old. If that sounds odd it’s because I remember a time when a movie like this was aimed squarely at me and featured a world I inhabited and I was looking forward to something resembling a trip down memory lane with this story of the young people in NYC. I’m still waiting, because this was sorely lacking. The plot is thus: Nick is the recently dumped bassist in a queercore trio and is playing a show in New York before he joins every other hip young person in the Tri-State area in a hunt to find the secret performance of the hippest band of the moment. Also, in the city looking for said band is Nora, frienemy of the girl who dumped Nick and fan of the mixes he keeps sending to his ex. And this is where the movie fails the most with me. When you meet someone who has your same musical tastes, it’s almost like love at first sight. Everything else falls ways as you launch into a mile-a-minute conversation and discover that the last song on the first EP of your favorite band that only you thought you understood has another fan who also envisioned wolves in the forest from the obscure lyrics. These kids are supposed to be hardcore music lovers. But when she realizes that he’s the guy behind the mixes she’s been enjoying that moment of connection never materializes. Instead, she’s just “declared” the one for him by both the movie and his gay bandmates (who talk her into putting on a better bra, from the box filled with them they just happened to have in the van). What should happen very naturally seems, very contrived and forced. And it doesn’t get any better. Another wasted plot point is her drunken best friend who gets lost (and almost steals the film) and they go looking for her. Between the search for her and the hip band this should have been a tour of NYC’s current music scene. It’s not. I’m old and out of touch but even I know that only one trip to Williamsburg in a movie about the NYC music scene is bullshit. And there’s an unrealistic Seinfeld level of driving going on in this movie, which is also ridiculous. I can get them driving in from New Jersey, because they have band equipment, but after that… What’s worse is that he’s driving a Yugo, so the joke that he doesn’t have to worry about it being stolen seems an easy and funny way to explain it, but never crosses the mind of any of these “smart” kids or the screenwriters. And if you’re wondering why this straight kid is playing comfortably in queercore band, keep wondering. Even though jokes are made about the assumption that he must be gay (the smartest joke is that all the gay guys in the movie are much better looking than he is and it’s probably unintentional) there’s no story about how he ended up in this trio, which should have been part of a real development of romance between the two. And don’t get me started about how a discussion of Judiasm leads to him finger fucking her.

MOVIE RULE: BRITS MAKE THE BEST VILLAINS EVEN WITHOUT THEIR ACCENTS
Nights In Rodanthe is down to number four followed by Appaloosa entering the top ten at number ten at number five and as the bad guy in this is Jeremy Irons, in that way that Englishmen seem to relish playing bad guys in westerns. Maybe because of the way the American west has been mythologized by the rest of the world, foreigners love to strap on the six-gun and say “Reckon” more than we ever will. Again this movie is caught between being traditional and being revisionist and what makes this frustrating is that some of the revisions are interesting, not the least of which is that Jeremy Irons (who’s playing a New Yorker) knows the president and uses this connection to get out of murdering the sheriff and his deputies! Afterwards, he invests money in the town and the very city fathers who hired Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen to go after him, began to embrace him. That should have played out to it logical conclusion (Irons becomes the mainstream and Harris becomes the outlaw for not accepting it), but thanks to another revisionist aspect results in a traditional ending.

FYI…
Lakeview Terrace is down to number six, followed by Burn After Reading at number seven and Fireproof at number eight.

COULDN’T YOU HAVE MADE ANOTHER HOT SHOTS MOVIE?
Opening in the top ten at number nine is An American Carol, the right wing comedy from Airplane and Naked Gun director, Jerry Zucker, yet another one of these Hollywood douchebags who suddenly became Republican after 9/11, because it’s easy hold a belief when times are good, not so much when it’s unpopular or you’re scared. But everyone who “turned” when times got tough needs to be watched by his new friends because obviously they have trouble hanging on to a point-of-view. Not that he didn’t pick a target that didn’t deserve it. Michael Moore is an ass and needs to roasted at every possible opportunity, but he’s already so ridiculous a character, it’s almost impossible to parody, which is how you get something like this, over-the-top and heavy handed. A more effective way to go would be just to let the Michael Moore character be his asshole self, but they didn’t exactly have their choice of top notch talent given their all-star cast consists of Kelsey Grammar, Trace Adkins, James Woods and the late Chris Farley’s older brother, who makes Jim Belushi look like John Belushi.

GOD WOULD STRIKE HIM DOWN…IF HE EXISTED
Ironically, opening right behind it Bill Mahler’s Religolous at number ten, but it’s unfair to call Bill Mahler a liberal when he in fact is a misanthrope and hates everyone. He’s also an atheist so has a special dislike of religion and this is pretty much his attack on it and it’s disingenuous to call it anything else. It was never his intent to show the good side of religion, only the bad because, well, there’s not a lot of humor in the good, only in someone who sees Jesus in a radish and a frightening humor in someone who either looks forward to the end of days or thinks a couple dozen virgins is any sort of heavenly reward. I mean who wants that deer-in-the-headlights look once, much less 37 times!?! I’ll never see it, because I hate Bill Maher as much as he hates me and I hate Michael Moore more than any Republican ever could.

FIRST RULE ABOUT CHOKING IS NEVER TALK ABOUT CHOKING
Never breaking the top ten is Choke, the latest movie based on a book by Chuck Palahniuk, the man behind Fight Club. Unfortunately, this is no Fight Club and also lacks the vision that David Fincher brought to that film. The title comes from his scam of faking choking in a restaurant to be saved. Once someone saves him, they not only give him an emotional connection, but will also send him financial support. He needs it because he dropped out of med school and became a tour guide to keep his mother in a very mercenary home as she slips further and further into dementia, not that she was stable to begin with (she would regularly steal him from foster parents). He’s also a sex addict for similar reasons; the instant emotional connection he gets from random sexual encounters that he never got from his mother, played by Anjelica Huston (who looks disturbingly like Cher in the flashback sequences). Of course all this becomes upended, when he meets “The Girl” played by none other than Kelly McDonald, best known as the all-too-willing Lolita from Trainspotting (you realize how long ago that was, thanks to her sadly, Euro-Anglo type of aging). Like Fight Club, no matter how twisted it gets, at its heart, it believes in the power of loving a girl (usually as twisted as you) to save you from yourself. Having seen the author in person, I can tell you from a brief first impression he didn’t date much so those ideas are understandably strong with him, which I guess is a refreshing change from dudes who didn’t date much and now hate women for it. Now, if you’re a fan of Sam Rockwell having sex, this is your movie, but otherwise it’s something to catch on IFC in about a year and be mildly amused by.

GIRL, I HEARD YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED
Rachel Getting Married is in limited release so hasn’t broken the top ten yet, but will because it’s serious Oscar bait. Now when critics call the performance of a woman “brave” what they usually mean is that she’s naked a lot and not naked in a flattering way (for men, “brave” means kissing another man). Truly brave is actually playing a character who is the protagonist, but is unrelentingly unpleasant and in the case of Rachel Getting Married, Anne Hathaway is seriously brave as Rachel’s sister Kat, getting out of rehab to attend the wedding and making almost everyone wish she’d stayed in. You want to feel bad for her, but she makes that all but impossible with her bitch-on-wheels performance climaxing with a wedding rehearsal toast that she makes all about herself. Not since watching Peter Weller get shot to death in Robocop has it been so difficult for me to look at the screen, because it’s long, it’s painful and it’s awkward and it’s meant to be to so. To the credit of both director Jonathan Demme and screenwriter Jenny Lumet (yes, daughter of director Sidney), Rachel doesn’t just take it. The very next scene is all about her confronting Kat for being so selfish and making Rachel’s wedding instead about her. It’s a reoccurring situation as Kat never really stops because this isn’t some magic movie where an unpleasant character is redeemed by a child or an all-knowing minority member. Kat is still in the stages of the recovery to drug addiction that has gripped her since she was a teen model (and led to a tragedy that still haunts her family). She didn’t change before the wedding, she’s not going to suddenly change during it. The ending of the film is wonderfully realistic in that regard, but hopeful when you think it might be depressing. Speaking of minorities, because this comes from director Jonathan Demme and Jenny Lumet who is also Lena Horne’s granddaughter multi-culturalism is a requirement. Rachel’s husband to be is Black as is Rachel and Kat’s stepmother. In fact, if there’s an ethnic group missed, I didn’t see it. Maybe some aborigines from Australia but that’s about it. Like The Duchess before it, this has a killer supporting performance from Bill Irwin as the father who unceasing in his love and devotion to his daughters, even the troublesome Kat, no matter how much trouble she causes. If he doesn’t get a nomination (only to lose to Ralph Fiennes) then there is no justice. Also, only briefly in the film but still making an impression is none other than Debra Winger. I never stop thinking about how awesome her legend could have, should have been. When none other than Bette Davis says you’re her successor… Sigh. But she walked away and now every return, no matter how small is a treat. But the biggest treat of all, because this comes from Jonathan Demme, is an appearance by none other than Sister Carol (and Fab Five Freddy and Robyn Hitchcock and Roger Corman). And yes, she sings.

MY FRIEND, MY MOTHER, MY LOVER: TELEVISION
Fall shows continue to roll out and continue not to impress me. The Ex List is based on a successful Israeli TV about a woman who learns that her soulmate is actually one of her exes and if she doesn’t marry him within a year, she’ll never get married. Now for this show to work, not only does time have to stand still, but she’s gotta be a bit of a ho’ to have enough interesting exes, not to mention when she reconnects with them, she sleeps with them again---only to break up to bone next week’s ex (the Israeli original never had this problem because it was done in about two months). This is what gets me about the odious How I Met Your Mother, because while trying to maintain an air of romance it’s essentially about all the girls he’s boned until he met his wife. And he’s telling his kids this shit! There was even an episode about a threesome he had! The lead is played by Elizabeth Reaser, the crazy amnesiac that Alex fell for on Grey’s Anatomy and I give them credit for casting someone not perfectly pretty as the lead---though she’s still a skinny little thing as shown by her wardrobe of short-shorts and bikinis. But this is a show for women (if you didn’t notice by the “We’re preying on your fears of dying alone” premise) so there’s actually more male flesh on display than female flesh and it’s usually fairly ripped. There’s even a little pseudo feminism by the now ousted creator/writer/producer, Diane Ruggiero when one of the supporting characters gets a full bikini wax and her boyfriend hates it because it makes her look like a little girl. Following the semi-mystical path of this is Valentine, the story of gods of love (Venus, Cupid, Hercules) on Earth today getting couples together. I only watched because Venus is played by the woman who was the crazy English girl Dexter fell for last season. The only episodes of that show I ever watched were the ones where she appeared naked. What she should be doing is playing a vampire. She has jet-black hair, alabaster skin and an English accent. It’s a role she was born to play so she should just get to it. Especially now that Kate Beckinsale isn’t coming back for Underworld sequels. This sounds remarkably similar to a much better show from a few years ago starring Jeremy Piven called Cupid (created by Rob Thomas, the creator of Veronica Mars), as a guy who may be the god of love exiled to earth until he unites 50 couples---or he just may be out of his mind. It was so much better it’s currently being remade with an actually attractive leading man (Bobby Cannavale). But even if I didn’t compare Valentine to that show, it would still be lacking. Aside from the horrible name, the character of Cupid is kind of a jerk and that’s not conducive to a favorable depiction of a god of love. He’s also not hot enough to be a god of love either. Though I do find it funny that Hercules hates cops because that actually makes sense. Sanctuary is the latest “monster of the week show” this fall, but thankfully there’s no “dark conspiracy” sub-plot. It’s simple: a seemingly immortal scientist recruits a forensic psychologist to help her track and capture monsters and mythical beasts, not just for the safety of the public but also for the creatures themselves. It was better than Fringe, which is embarrassing considering it cost about a third as much (and looks it) and if it makes a point of actually using mythical creatures or urban legends, I’ll be a devoted follower. As it is, I enjoyed the “monster” this week was actually a child whose parents were from Chernobyl and apparently wasn’t the first.

WE’RE ALL AMERICANS, HERE---UNLESS WE DISAGREE, THEN YOU’RE A TRAITOR
Speaking of the wars between the left and the right, my Jezebel membership has actually gotten my ass out to Brooklyn twice in the last two weeks to watch the debates with the Jezebel girls. And by watching, I mean eating, drinking and screaming at the TV. Especially when Sarah Palin is on. You want to see a liberal woman’s head explode? Mention offhandedly how much you like Sarah Palin. And then watch your head, because she may come for you. I love my Jezebel girls, but I’ve got an intense self-loathing for my liberal brethren otherwise, because I hold to the belief if you truly believe you’re on the side of right, you are prohibited from being an asshole about it. And acting like the mispronunciation of the name of a foreign leader’s name is the height of idiocy is being an asshole. Granted, anyone who wants to president should know how to do it, but not being able to doesn’t automatically mean your IQ hovers around room temperature. I probably won’t make the third because I simply cannot do Brooklyn once a week. Sorry, ladies. I love you all, but I think going out there so much is making me break out in a rash. Besides, to go out there means I have to give up a work out of some sort, so not only am I eating and drinking but also I’m not working out as much. Yes, I’ve somehow become that guy. That guy who has to workout a certain number of times a week or he gets antsy (or in my case, fat). It’s why this weekend, even with my legs in so much pain from an unusually hard kung fu class, I literally had trouble walking, I popped some Advil, put Ben Gay on my legs and hit the road.