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(02/21/08 5:00am)
Haley Joel Osment infamously said, "I see dead people."
I don't.
I don't like scary movies.
I don't get pleasure from watching zombies attacking, ghosts haunting or chain saws massacring.
I don't understand why groups of teenagers end up locked in a cabin/house/hotel with some sort of psycho killer. How likely is that, really?
And why do these outrageous scenarios seem to keep happening? Part one, two, three, or maybe even a paranormal prequel.
As prolific as the genre may be, I've managed to avoid it almost entirely.
It's not that I didn't give them a chance.
The edited-for-TV movies seemed a great place to start. I figured I could get the general gist without too much gore and guts.
These usually included one of the many "Scream" or "Child's Play" movies.
I would curl up on the sofa, my finger anxiously resting above the remote so that when the first sign of fear or terror came forward, I could swiftly flip the channel to a more serene scene.
But the escape route was too perfect, and I found myself enjoying the gentle comedy of Nick at Nite before Drew could even answer the phone.
It was clear that watching a scary movie on TV was not going to work. Maybe I'd just been looking at the horror genre all wrong.
Maybe the crazed sickos who like these movies have discovered that watching a scary movie is a specific kind of entertainment.
What matters is the experience of being in a dark theater, surrounded by friends to share the terror.
It can be the same adrenaline rush granted by roller coasters, the kind of contained fear that brings scares along with security.
Too bad for me; I'm not much of a roller coaster fan either.
I realized the only way to face my fear was to watch a horror movie the way it is intended: unedited for time and content and on the big screen.
So I agreed to go with a group of friends to see "The Grudge" during Halloween weekend my freshman year.
I can't tell you what it was about. Something with Sarah Michelle Gellar living in Japan, and there was a curse - and a seriously creepy little boy.
I can't even tell you if it was all that scary since I don't have any previous films to compare it with.
As the packed theater gasped, jolted and screamed in unison, I was crumpled behind the seat, hidden along with discarded drinks and sprinklings of popcorn.
My pointer fingers were shoved in my ears while the rest of my fingers fanned across my eyes and face. I considered running to the lobby to wait out the rest of the movie, but the fear of what I might see if I sat up was enough to keep me in the fetal position.
Since then, there has been a strict moratorium on my scary movie viewings. There won't be any serial killers, crazed clowns or possessed preschoolers for me.
The dawn of my horror movie interest is dead.
Contact Rachel Brody at rbrody@email.unc.edu.
(02/21/08 5:00am)
Charlie Bartlett is just your average super-rich kid who decides to sell prescription drugs to his fellow students in order to be popular.
And in an age in which Ritalin is as accessible as Skittles, there are plenty of laughs to be had watching Charlie scam every local psychiatrist into prescribing him medications to help everything from OCD to depression.
Charlie then holds impromptu therapy sessions at school in which he analyzes the psychological condition and sells the appropriate drug to the student.
The film flirts with a solid satire of high school angst, but some of the themes of depression, alcoholism and drug overdose lack the emotional distance to be funny, while also lacking the attention to be serious.
As the students pour their hearts out in Charlie's "office," the boys' bathroom, Charlie never really impresses with his advice.
He is supposedly developing into a caring and empathetic character, but his evaluations of his peers' problems don't extend far beyond setting up unlikely couples.
Anton Yelchin, in the titular role, fits the part of the awkward misfit, with his scrawny frame and calculated gestures.
But when the scenes call for depth, Yelchin barely scrapes the surface.
If the film had gone with a more developed actor, maybe "Little Miss Sunshine"'s Paul Dano, for example, it's fun to wonder if "Charlie Bartlett" would have achieved more of the profundity it was searching for.
While the plot and Yelchin are problematic, the rest of the cast is a real upper.
Robert Downey Jr. is often hilarious as the burned-out principal and father to Charlie's love interest, Susan (Kat Dennings).
His sarcastic and disinterested handlings of the mischief around his school are funny and reminiscent of real life school administrators.
He finds a good balance between the apathetic administrator and the concerned father, even when his character's actions seemed contrived.
Hope Davis is perfect as Charlie's subdued mother who keeps the family psychiatrist on call if any unevenness of temperament should arise.
"Charlie Bartlett" has good acting and several laughs, but when it comes to deeper meaning, as Freud says, the cigar is just a cigar.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(02/21/08 5:00am)
Haley Joel Osment infamously said" ""I see dead people.""I don't.I don't like scary movies.I don't get pleasure from watching zombies attacking" ghosts haunting or chain saws massacring. I don't understand why groups of teenagers end up locked in a cabin/house/hotel with some sort of psycho killer. How likely is that really?And why do these outrageous scenarios seem to keep happening? Part one two three or maybe even a paranormal prequel. As prolific as the genre may be" I've managed to avoid it almost entirely. It's not that I didn't give them a chance. The edited-for-TV movies seemed a great place to start. I figured I could get the general gist without too much gore and guts.These usually included one of the many ""Scream"" or ""Child's Play"" movies.I would curl up on the sofa" my finger anxiously resting above the remote so that when the first sign of fear or terror came forward I could swiftly flip the channel to a more serene scene.But the escape route was too perfect and I found myself enjoying the gentle comedy of Nick at Nite before Drew could even answer the phone.It was clear that watching a scary movie on TV was not going to work. Maybe I'd just been looking at the horror genre all wrong. Maybe the crazed sickos who like these movies have discovered that watching a scary movie is a specific kind of entertainment. What matters is the experience of being in a dark theater surrounded by friends to share the terror. It can be the same adrenaline rush granted by roller coasters" the kind of contained fear that brings scares along with security.Too bad for me; I'm not much of a roller coaster fan either.I realized the only way to face my fear was to watch a horror movie the way it is intended: unedited for time and content and on the big screen.So I agreed to go with a group of friends to see ""The Grudge"" during Halloween weekend my freshman year.I can't tell you what it was about. Something with Sarah Michelle Gellar living in Japan" and there was a curse - and a seriously creepy little boy.I can't even tell you if it was all that scary since I don't have any previous films to compare it with. As the packed theater gasped jolted and screamed in unison I was crumpled behind the seat hidden along with discarded drinks and sprinklings of popcorn. My pointer fingers were shoved in my ears while the rest of my fingers fanned across my eyes and face. I considered running to the lobby to wait out the rest of the movie but the fear of what I might see if I sat up was enough to keep me in the fetal position. Since then there has been a strict moratorium on my scary movie viewings. There won't be any serial killers crazed clowns or possessed preschoolers for me.The dawn of my horror movie interest is dead.Contact Rachel Brody at rbrody@email.unc.edu.
(02/18/08 5:00am)
This Valentine's Day" dare to be different. Chocolates" flowers and candle-lit dinners are all overdone. Overly sweet conversation hearts and generic Hallmark cards don't cut it anymore. Store-bought valentines featuring Spongebob or Scooby-Doo dropped into paper-bag mailboxes are a thing of the past.This is college people. If you want to impress that special someone" it's time to get clever. And nothing says ""I care"" like a creative Diversions un-valentine. They'll make you laugh. They might make you cry - but only if you take them too seriously. So grab some scissors and get to cutting. Spread the valentine cheer with these specialized cards. Happy Valentine's Day.Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(02/18/08 5:00am)
Once again it's Valentine's Day" a time for Hollywood to lure men and women alike with promises of adventure coupled with key players of the romantic-comedy genre.But don't let ""Fool's Gold"" trick you into believing it is anything more than a dumb movie starring shiny"" pretty people.After co-starring in ""How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days"" Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey seem like the perfect pair, capable of cutesy comedy and romantic chemistry.But the nautical nonsense in this movie washes out any potential the two stars have.Fool's Gold"" unsuccessfully combines two storylines: one" a predictable romantic-comedy where opposites attract and the other an overly-convoluted action-adventure plot.Recently divorced couple Tess and Benjamin Finnegan find themselves together again when they both seek the financial support of the millionaire Nigel Honeycutt (Donald Sutherland) to sponsor their treasure hunt.Apparently the Finnegans have spent years searching for a treasure lost by the Spanish crown in the 1500s.But unfortunately for them some less-than-friendly mobsters also are in pursuit of the Spanish booty.The action-packed hunt-and-chase portion of the movie is confusing and obviously unrealistic which would be forgivable if the romantic-comedy side of the movie could hold its own.But alas the humor is limited to lame slapstick and weak sexual tension between Hudson and McConaughey. They know how to lose an audience in 10 minutes.Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(02/14/08 5:00am)
This Valentine's Day, dare to be different.
Chocolates, flowers and candle-lit dinners are all overdone.
Overly sweet conversation hearts and generic Hallmark cards don't cut it anymore.
Store-bought valentines featuring Spongebob or Scooby-Doo dropped into paper-bag mailboxes are a thing of the past.
This is college, people.
If you want to impress that special someone, it's time to get clever.
And nothing says "I care" like a creative Diversions un-valentine.
(02/14/08 5:00am)
Once again it's Valentine's Day, a time for Hollywood to lure men and women alike with promises of adventure coupled with key players of the romantic-comedy genre.
But don't let "Fool's Gold" trick you into believing it is anything more than a dumb movie starring shiny, pretty people.
After co-starring in "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days," Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey seem like the perfect pair, capable of cutesy comedy and romantic chemistry.
But the nautical nonsense in this movie washes out any potential the two stars have.
"Fool's Gold" unsuccessfully combines two storylines: one, a predictable romantic-comedy where opposites attract, and the other, an overly-convoluted action-adventure plot.
Recently divorced couple Tess and Benjamin Finnegan find themselves together again when they both seek the financial support of the millionaire Nigel Honeycutt (Donald Sutherland) to sponsor their treasure hunt.
Apparently the Finnegans have spent years searching for a treasure lost by the Spanish crown in the 1500s.
But, unfortunately for them, some less-than-friendly mobsters also are in pursuit of the Spanish booty.
The action-packed hunt-and-chase portion of the movie is confusing and obviously unrealistic, which would be forgivable if the romantic-comedy side of the movie could hold its own.
But, alas, the humor is limited to lame slapstick and weak sexual tension between Hudson and McConaughey.
They know how to lose an audience in 10 minutes.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(01/24/08 5:00am)
"The Savages" has raw acting and ironic, brutal humor, but its plot loses power and ultimately proves too tame.
Writer and director Tamara Jenkins tries to present a story that avoids melodramatic breakthroughs and instead functions in the subtle neuroses of her characters.
Unfortunately, this refusal to dwell in the past hurts the film, making it hard to understand the motivation for much of the characters' dysfunction.
When their aging father Lenny (Philip Bosco) begins to suffer from dementia and is kicked out of his comfortable assisted-living condo, the brother-sister team of Jon and Wendy (Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney) are called upon as caregivers.
But neither sibling is anxious to abandon their lives in order to help their father, who they haven't spoken with in years.
It is clear that both Savage children have an estranged relationship with their father, but the audience is left wondering why that is.
Any details of their father's abandonment and/or abuse are barely implied.
Wendy, a struggling playwright, wonders if her semi-autobiographical work is mere middle-class whining, and with little rationale for the characters' behavior, the film encroaches on being just that.
But the sometimes brilliant nuances are not lost on Hoffman and Linney.
Both actors own their characters and bring forward the incredible depth that the plot lacks.
Linney's neurotic outburts paired with Hoffman's egotistical detachment allow for the film's dark humor, as well as powerful dialogues.
Much of the first half thrives in bitterly ironic moments, such as the scene of a stoic Hoffman carrying an "I Love You" balloon awkwardly around his father's hospital room.
Linney and Hoffman powerfully deliver their empty, narcissistic characters until the end.
But the end for "The Savages" is a clumsy meditation on family and loss.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu
(01/10/08 5:00am)
With teen pregnancies (Jamie Lynn Spears) in the public eye, a comedy about a girl barely old enough to drive having a baby could raise an eyebrow or two.
But to attack the film for sending undesirable messages to teenage girls would be a vast oversimplification.
"Juno" is a thoughtful and funny film that creates complex characters capable of tackling tough themes while maintaining the off-beat humor set from the start.
That a storyline about teenage pregnancy avoids both dramatic clichés and distasteful humor is a testament to Diablo Cody's unique and clever writing.
Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page) is a 16-year-old girl who becomes pregnant after a one-time encounter with her best friend, Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera).
She decides to keep the baby and goes in search of adoptive parents. As her situation sinks in, the shock wears off and Juno's sharp wit and mature strength blend well in the world of surprised adults.
Ellen Page is remarkable as the sardonic Juno. She delivers her quips with ease and her youthful frame is the perfect contrast to the adult world she is pushed into.
Page expertly conveys the contradictions that exist in the character.
Juno is an exaggerated character in a serious situation, but her many quirks prevent her from becoming larger than life.
A role that could have easily become a demonstration of unusual maturity is complicated by reminders of Juno's age.
She is the kind of girl who wittily retorts with inspiring ease, all while chatting on her hamburger phone and sipping on a blue Slurpee.
The rest of the cast is well constructed from Juno's unorthodox family to the yuppies she selects to raise her baby. Jennifer Garner shines as the uptight, eager mother-to-be Vanessa.
Even in a simple scene such as choosing what shade of yellow to paint the nursery, Garner conveys the intense desires and disappointments of a woman unable to have children of her own.
While the plot of "Juno" centers around a taboo theme, the brilliance of the film is that while the pregnancy initially seems to be the focus, it becomes a mere undertone for the hilarious and moving development of its characters.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu
(11/29/07 5:00am)
'Tis the season for academic stress, emotional strain, and unwanted weight gain.
The holidays, once relaxing times, have matured along with us into times of binges of both book and food.
I struggled to greet my relatives on Thanksgiving with my arms full of textbooks and visions of research papers dancing in my head. Luckily there was a welcomed distraction: the fully stocked refrigerator.
Of course, after the annual turkey dinner it feels like only moments before Christmas cookies, Chanukah latkes or any multicultural treat you consume are clogging both homes and arteries.
I don't mean to dwell on the obvious increase in calories that come inevitably every winter season. And I don't want to suggest that we all need to become concerned about looking slim when we don our gay apparel.
But like it or not, exercising will help manage the end of semester stress and slow the mounting poundage of the holidays.
After semesters of combating cardio, whining through weights, and yammering during yoga, I think I finally found an exercise that doesn't make me cringe.
Instead, it makes me shake.
Its name is Zumba. Fun to say and fun to do.
Basically, Zumba is an hour-long cardio workout class that uses high-energy dance moves set to a soundtrack of popular club music. Maybe the technical definition doesn't get your blood pumping, but imagine an SRC studio packed with students shaking it like a saltshaker.
It's like going to Players, minus the creepy middle-aged men watching you groove.
I was not properly prepared for my first Zumba experience. I was told it was like a dance class, so my former-ballerina-self reached for a leotard and leggings and started stretching on the studio floor.
Luckily my friend pulled me up before I was squashed under the stampede of hip-hop stomps when class began.
There is nothing tame about the dance combos. You will be rolling, popping and shaking like you are in a 50 Cent video. Participants laugh and chat in between dance numbers, and class becomes one big dance party instead on an intimidating, boring hour of exercise.
I was shocked to find the room was packed with students. Careful where you shake your moneymaker or you might get a bit too friendly with your neighbor.
Only a few semesters old, Zumba has managed to become one of the most popular group fitness classes offered on campus. Zumba has escaped the mere drudgery of working out and reached social club status.
Friends attend class together. Dance groups show up to learn some new moves. Campus clubs have used Zumba as an hour to bump and bond.
And you know it has reached the big time since Zumba is now a Facebook Group. The group includes a listing of songs used in class, and members can post their favorites on the wall so the instructors know that everyone wants to get down to.
Try it out. The thought of group exercise might be enough for you to hide behind the treadmills, or you might find Zumba gets your endorphins bounding just in time for the stress of exams.
Contact Rachel Brody at rbrody@email.unc.edu.
(11/15/07 5:00am)
Most doting parents are thrilled to hang their children's "masterpieces" on the refrigerator.
But most don't go so far as to sell their children's works for thousands of dollars.
Before her fifth birthday, Marla Olmstead already had received international attention for her abstract paintings and had been accused of fraud.
Amir Bar-Lev's intriguing documentary "My Kid Could Paint That" succeeds in creating a film that highlights the ambiguities of art, creation and human nature.
Marla is an adorable preschooler who began showing signs of artistic talent at age 3.
While her mother Laura is constantly apprehensive about the growing media attention, father Mark seems much more excited about bringing his family into the limelight.
But the excitement and success of Marla's paintings comes to a halt after the family is featured on "60 Minutes."
A child psychologist on the program suggests that Marla is being coached and possibly assisted by her father, and that the paintings are not the original works of genius the art world has accepted them to be.
When Marla's talent comes under serious scrutiny, Bar-Lev makes the risky decision to insert himself more directly into the film instead of trying to maintain an objective distance.
The mother's dialogues are especially interesting when she is no longer simply relaying her story but speaking directly to Bar-Lev.
Throughout the film, Laura tries to make the best decisions for her daughter and protect her childhood innocence from titles such as "prodigy."
She lets Bar-Lev into their lives in the hopes that he can restore the beauty and innocence to Marla's story - something the filmmaker admittedly is unable to do completely.
Instead, the documentarian chooses not to settle for a straight answer and alternately highlights the ambiguities that surround art as a concept.
Modern art is often criticized for being something a toddler could produce with finger paint, so of course it's blissfully ironic that this time a child is the artist.
And what if Mark is helping Marla?
Bar-Lev prods Mark, trying to uncover the truth about whether or not he has been coaching his daughter. But while the answer remains unclear, what is more curious in the context of the film is how much it matters and to whom.
"My Kid Could Paint That" is a fascinating film that embraces the complexities of the tale rather than squelching them in the search for absolute truth.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(10/11/07 4:00am)
The terms "praise music" and "Christian rock" bring to mind a style of music that has a set audience with set expectations - often to the chagrin of secular music fans.
But many artists blur the lines of what defines religious music.
Contemporary Christian music (CCM) is a catchall term for artists whose music concerns the Christian faith. CCM stretches to include derivations of rock, country, gospel and other types of music.
CCM bands often find success by mixing contemporary sounds and trends, pairing them with overtly religious lyrics. The familiar sounds have granted some bands mainstream status.
Jars of Clay, for example, has toured with other Christian artists, but also with Matchbox Twenty. P.O.D. is another immediately recognizable success story.
But the CCM formula, in many minds, has created a divide between the religious and the secular.
Music can integrate aspects of faith from the songwriter's personal view, instead of writing songs for the sole purpose of praise.
Artists such as Sufjan Stevens have found mainstream success across faiths. His use of Christian undertones became apparent in his 2004 album, Seven Swans.
Where Stevens differs from traditional CCM artists is in his songwriting. Stevens writes in a way that incorporates his faith, rather than for the purpose of confirming it.
At first glance, Stevens' songs, such as "To Be Alone With You," appear to be traditional secular songs. But lines such as "To be alone with me you went up on the tree/I'll never know the man who loved me," show the writer's thought goes beyond Earthly joys and into the spiritual realm.
The Chapel Hill band Sweater Weather seems to have a similar approach when it comes to religion and music.
"We are eight different people from different walks of life," said frontman Casey Trela.
"I can speak for myself that I try not to separate my religious parts of my life from non. I'm not writing Christian music for a Christian audience, but I am writing about my life, and my faith is a big part of it."
On "Fear In A Handful of Dust," Trela's gentle tenor breaks into a scream as the repeated, building refrain of "He is. He was. And He shall come again" soars higher and higher over squalling guitars and heavy percussion. It's the band's most obviously faith-based lyric.
But Trela thinks Sweater Weather's music can be appreciated by all kinds of listeners, not just ones with strong Christian faiths.
"I hope that because it is music, it can reach people who come from different perspectives, but they can still relate to the struggles or the joy expressed."
Danny Stellini, a sophomore music-education major, shares a similar perspective about the relationship between music and religion.
Stellini is the music director of Sababa, a Jewish a capella group at UNC. But he says Sababa performs "cultural music," not just strictly religious or Jewish music.
"We sing Israeli music as well as secular music with Jewish sentiments," Stellini said.
For example, this semester the group is singing The Byrds' hit, "Turn! Turn! Turn!"
He said he thinks many contemporary Jewish musicians are making their music more accessible by using themes that can relate to any community, not just a Jewish one.
"It's not about religion or God; it's about Jewish values such as acceptance and peace."
While some artists find a middle ground between religion and secularism, others stay with the more obvious religious connections.
But even under the label of religious music, some artists do not fit the prototypical genre tag. The unorthodox Clang Quartet is a profound example.
The title of Quartet is misleading, as the sole member is Scotty Irving of Stokesdale, N.C.
"Some people have said it's a quartet because it's me and the Holy Trinity," Irving said.
While he said he appreciates the religious associations, the connection is not intentional.
But the "Clang" part of his moniker is accurate. Irving describes his show as "not exactly music."
"I use the word 'noise' because it is sound that doesn't follow a sing-song pattern," he said.
The noise aspect is an integral part of Irving's performance. Using varied - sometimes homemade - percussion instruments, a PA system and other noisemakers, Irving offers his personal interpretation of sins, the crucifixion and ultimate redemption.
While other Christian artists sing overly accessible songs of praise and worship, Irving beats on cymbals and wears bizarre masks on stage to interpret his faith.
"If people are paying attention, then the Christian symbolism is obvious," Irving said.
With Christian-themed shirts and stickers, crosses and a crown of thorns, Irving performs the approximately 30-minute show with no vocals, only the clatter of his many instruments.
Before starting Clang Quartet, Irving played in rock bands that used elements of noise and metal. But as the years passed, he realized what he wanted and what his bandmates wanted in regards to sound and performance were very different.
Irving, as Clang Quartet, now performs on a regular basis at churches, nightclubs and other spaces.
"I don't regret (starting Clang Quartet)", Irving said.
"I regret the time I spent talking myself out of doing it."
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
For More info...
Sweater Weather
Sweater Weather's next local shows are at Local 506, in Chapel Hill, on Oct. 22 and at Duke Coffeehouse, in Durham, on Nov. 9.
You can check the band out online at www.sweater-weather.com or www.myspace.com/sweaterweathermusic.
Sababa
Sababa's next scheduled public performance is at NC Hillel on Dec. 1, as part of the organization's annual Hanukkah party.
Check them out online at www.nchillel.org/site/c.irKQIUPEIsE/b.2433061/k.B932/Sababa.htm
Clang Quartet
Clang Quartet's next local shows are at Bull City Headquarters, in Durham, on Oct. 19 and at Local 506, in Chapel Hill, on Nov. 17.
You can check Clang Quartet out online at www.silbermedia.com/clangquartet or www.myspace.com/clangquartet.
(09/27/07 4:00am)
"YOUUUUUUUUU!"
Suddenly the overcrowded townhouse party organizes into straight lines and begins a synchronized sway.
Surprised by the sudden need for a line dance, I smugly ask my friend, "What are they doing?"
"Umm, the Soulja Boy dance, duh!" she replies as she rushes to join the ranks.
"Oh, Soldier Boy, of course," I say, frantically trying to recover from my apparent faux pas.
OK, so it's some summer hit I haven't heard of, big deal. But then things start to get serious. The rows of tipsy coeds now are involved in a choreographed medley of moves that make the Macarena look like child's play.
I grasp my red Solo cup and desperately search for a Soulja Boy-ignorant comrade, but it becomes clear that everyone knows how to crank dat - except me.
At first, I tried not to care. Organized dancing isn't my strength. I've tried. I've done my time at enough bar mitzvahs to learn that it's best if I don't slide, hustle or attempt any moves designed by the Village People.
Walk it out? Yes, if you mean walk out of the room.
But as the semester rolled on, I realized I could not escape Soulja Boy. He was at every club and crappy apartment party I frequented.
He demanded that I crank it and roll it, but all I could do was slump against the wall while a room full of Supermen mocked me.
One day, I finally cracked. I refused to go another night alienated from my friends, forced to claim indigestion when they tried to pull me to the dance floor. I swore I would never let it go this far, but I was left with no choice. I recruited myself and logged onto YouTube.
There I found the causation of my social isolation : Soulja Boy.
After weeks of tormenting me with his impossible dance moves, he offered me salvation in the form of a step-by-step instructional video.
And so I practiced. I studied. I leaned, rocked and yes, I Supermanned dat ho.
That night, game face on, I hung around the dance floor waiting for my chance to prove to the world, but more importantly to myself, that I could crank dat.
And I could - at least at first. Then things started to get tricky.
Spiderman? Batman?
Pick a super hero, people! Clearly I had only skimmed the surface of the intricate dance that is "Crank Dat."
Now when I hear Soulja Boy calling to me in the bars or at a party, I smile resiliently and resume my place against the wall.
"YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"
No, not me.
You.
Contact Rachel Brody at rbrody@email.unc.edu.
(09/20/07 4:00am)
The title might promise absurd humor with an outrageous climax, but instead, "Mr. Woodcock" goes soft with a predictable plot and lame sentiment.
John Farley (Seann William Scott), who spent his childhood as an overweight loser humiliated in gym class, is now a successful author of a self-help book worthy of the coveted Oprah's Book Club.
When his hometown in Nebraska wishes to honor his latest achievements, Farley flies home to receive his award and surprise his mother (Susan Sarandon).
Of course the real surprise is that Farley's mother is marrying his former gym teacher, Mr. Woodcock (Billy Bob Thornton).
Woodcock is the sadistic sociopath who tortured Farley and his classmates for years, leading him to write his book about letting go of painful pasts.
With the source of his emotional scarring engaged to his mom, Farley is knocked clear off his self-help soapbox and vows to break up the couple at any cost.
Thornton does nail the role of Woodcock with his deadpan stares and fierce one-liners. The majority of the film's laughs come from flashbacks of gym class when he torments his prepubescent pupils.
But audiences who sat through "Bad News Bears" or "School for Scoundrels" don't need another mediocre comedy to convince them that Thornton can play a hard-ass.
And when the "Mr. Woodcock" jokes are pumped dry, there is little left in regards to situational humor. Nothing creative or sensational is found in Farley's attempts to defame the evil gym teacher.
Even gags like Farley hiding under the bed while Woodcock and his mother enjoy "alone time" are too controlled and expected to get a rise out of anyone.
The comedic talents of Thornton, Sarandon, and Saturday Night Live's Amy Poehler are wasted in an unambitious plot that sticks to safe jokes and ends with forced sentiment.
The cast of decent actors and the outlandish storyline promise humor, but unfortunately "Woodcock" is nothing but a big tease.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/13/07 4:00am)
There's nothing like the nostalgic adventures of a Western, where the timeless rules of melodrama assure us that the bad guys ride black horses and will ultimately be defeated by the righteous hero in a white hat.
But director James Mangold's remake of the 1957 film "3:10 to Yuma" presents a classic Western stage with some sensitive cowboys.
Notorious criminal Ben Wade (Russell Crowe) finds himself held captive by a squad of law-abiding misfits who must get an unharmed Wade on a train bound for Yuma prison.
And if transporting a dangerous criminal under strict time constraints wasn't enough, Wade's posse of ruthless killers is always only a few steps behind.
The film provides authentic Western scenery and action, but Mangold allows plenty of time to develop Wade and his captor Dan Evans (Christian Bale), a proud rancher struggling to save his farm and family.
But maybe he allows too much time.
The majority of the film is used for dialogue showing Wade and Evans working to understand and outsmart one other, only to discover they might not be so different after all.
While creating more than just foil characters of the good and the bad is appreciated, "3:10 to Yuma" loses steam and becomes stale in its anticipation of the action-packed climax.
A surprising cinematic save comes from Ben Foster.
Foster, who has bounced around television and films playing mainly wimpy characters, thrives as the sadistic sidekick Charlie Prince.
While Wade and Evans are chatting, the quick, brutal scenes of Prince on his quest to save Wade are a welcome throw-back to the true villains of the spaghetti Western canon.
With his "3:10 to Yuma," Mangold had the right idea in trying to make an action -packed Western that offers more than just guns and saloons.
But unfortunately, when the characters in "3:10 to Yuma" attempt to discover themselves, it doesn't work for the film the way it did for "Brokeback Mountain."
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(04/19/07 4:00am)
MOVIEREVIEW
The Hoax
3.5 stars
Oprah Winfrey might have nailed author James Frey's "A Million Little Pieces" for its fabrications in 2006, but that was just child's play when it comes to the forgery committed by Clifford Irving back in the '70s.
"The Hoax" is the story of how Irving convinced McGraw-Hill to publish his biography of the reclusive billionaire Howard Hughes and to pay him millions of dollars, while in reality Irving never had even spoken to Hughes.
Using stolen manuscripts and forged letters, Irving concocted a detailed account of the life of the eccentric aviator, who had been a recluse from the media for more than a decade.
"The Hoax" has a clever script that at times is very amusing but also achieves a certain darkness without becoming overly melodramatic.
It neatly incorporates the rough political scene of the time, with allusions to the outcome of the Vietnam War and the trouble stirring for President Nixon.
Richard Gere is a good fit for the charismatic Irving, whose persuasiveness not only enchants his publishers but also convinces his best friend and wife to jump on the bandwagon of lies.
Irving charms his way to the top and brings the audience with him, making it difficult to watch as his hoax ultimately falls apart. He exhausts himself in the web of lies he creates and the line between reality and his land of make believe becomes so blurred that even the audience questions what is real.
Gere is joined by a strong cast including Marcia Gay Harden as Edith, Irving's wife, and Alfred Molina as Irving's pathetic best friend and cohort.
The interactions among the trio are interesting commentary on how willing people are to lie when it works and how quickly they condemn it once the truth is discovered.
"The Hoax" is a sophisticated telling of Irving's scandal and how his lies were almost believed. As Irving discovers in the film, sometimes the most outrageous lies are the hardest to combat because they sound so ridiculous that they must be true.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(02/22/07 5:00am)
MOVIE REVIEW
Breach
3.5 Stars
Nobody likes a liar.
Especially when the liar is a FBI agent who sold intelligence to the Soviet Union during the Cold War and carried his treachery into modern-day Russia.
"Breach" is the true story of Robert Hanssen, a notorious spy for the Russians who finally was caught in 2001 after decades of deception.
But with Chris Cooper cast as Hanssen, simply hating the enemy is not an option.
(02/15/07 5:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
Ana's Mitchell
The Brightness
4 stars
Contemporary folk music will embrace Ana's Mitchell's second album, The Brightness, for its musical storytelling and poetic lyrics. Listeners will appreciate its unique style.
Mitchell is a 25-year-old singer/songwriter from Vermont who has been composing since she was 17.
Like almost all female solo artists, Mitchell can't escape comparisons to pioneers of contemporary folk such as Ani DiFranco, especially when the album is being released under DiFranco's Righteous Babe label.
But Mitchell is successful in making her own sound, and one that is significantly different from Regina Spektor - another young, up-and-coming artist that Mitchell might be carelessly compared to.
Spektor's songs incorporate blues, jazz and funk influences, while Mitchell's music is far less about the musical progressions and accompaniments.
Each song has faint twangs of a guitar, but Mitchell's voice and words are what captivate the listener.
Mitchell's voice is distinctive and very surprising when the opening track "Your Fonder Heart" begins. Her voice is childlike but has an emotional sensibility that is far from juvenile.
But while initially the listener might question Mitchell's sound, as the songs continue her peculiar inflections and flighty voice make each song unique.
The ballad "Shenandoah" uses thoughtful poetry carried by the singer's beautifully raw sound.
Mitchell's rare talents and passion for songwriting hopefully will bring many more albums to come.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(01/18/07 5:00am)
MOVIEREVIEW
"Freedom Writers"
3 Stars
The plotline of a young, ambitious white woman sent to teach an ethnically diverse student body full of juvenile delinquents is nothing new. And that's not intended to describe Michelle Pfeiffer's "Dangerous Minds."
But before the MTV film "Freedom Writers" can be dismissed as too clich
(11/30/06 5:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
Johnny Action Figure
Asks the Room to Please Stop Spinning
3.5 stars
Johnny Action Figure's second album Asks The Room To Please Stop Spinning is a refreshing attempt in the pop rock world.
The Pennsylvanian group, composed of two brothers and their two friends from high school, has toured with bands such as The Get Up Kids and Midtown. Johnny Action Figure also joined The Warped Tour in 2004.
Influenced by legends such as Elvis Costello and Tom Petty, Johnny Action Figure combines sounds of the past with punk rock flavors.
Their latest album has constant energy, and the tracks blend more than they are simply repetitive.
The album opens strong with "Lose Our Face," which doesn't seem a far cry from singles that get radio play.
"(This Is How I Look) When I Laugh At Death" might have a title that screams emo, but luckily the song's harmonies and lyrics prove to be more.
The real disappointment of the album is that it only offers seven tracks, and each song seems an attempt at the perfect three-minute hit destined for the radio.
Fun and entertaining, Asks The Room To Please Stop Spinning hopefully will be one of many albums to come out of this pop rock group.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.