---

I never buy books. Ever. At least not anymore. I read hand-me-downs, Kindle (check it right here), half-priced books. It works. But buy a book? I don’t think so.

Until this one fine day …

I was in Urban Outfitters, tra la la, prancing around, perusing their book section up at the front of the store. It was really strange: While all of the books had a certain attractive gimmick about them—super-funny, great title, artistic cover—there was this one book that when I opened it, I was lost.

Street Sketch Book: Inside the Journals of International Street and Graffiti Artists by Tristan Manco (Chronicle Books, 2007)

It was weird. I’ve never been a huge fan of graffiti. Yes, I’m a huge supporter of the medium and believe that most graffiti is art, but I’ve certainly never had such an incredible response to the pages in a book dedicated to this art form. I was also won over by the fact that this book concentrates on sketchbooks as well as final pieces. It struck me as profoundly serendipitous for my own journey as an artist.

Especially in the case of self-taught artists, we so often subject ourselves to just seeing the end result: the fantastic, $1,000 exhibit; the glowing review in The New York Times; the sculpture that took 500 hours to make but seems as though it were formed calmly, on a misty morning somewhere. This book of sketch work allowed me to see into these artists’ pain, direction formation, reality, and structure (or lack thereof). It made me feel not quite as vulnerable. It was pretty wild.

Within the pages of this oh-my-gosh-I-can’t-believe-it’s-so-stunning book, one particular artist drove a new understanding within me. Iemza, p. 188. Parallel lines cradle soft, feminine forms raging from the thin confines of black ink. Expansive, abandoned, gray warehouses roll with figures looking out of slanted, kind eyes. Spaces are expressed in ways the original designer never intended—art has become mobile, transformative, constant, and morphing.

To quote Manco: “Abandoned places stimulate [Iemza’s] imagination … he distorts architectural perspectives … he deforms and twists the human form to explore fragility, inner demons and weaknesses.”

It’s true. Each of Iemza’s images do scream a truth and a reality only accessed in the quiet moments of our solitude … at least that’s what these images do for me.

Iemza grew up in Reims (a city in France, apparently—just reading the name reminded me that I need to learn more geography!), a city known for its cathedral Notre-Dame de Reims, and of its squares, Place Cardinal-Luçon, famously features an equestrian statue of Joan of Arc. Iemza started doing graffiti around the time he joined his local skateboarding community. He likes to be “dirty, dark and without tricks”—the integrity of deconstructing potential images keeps him sane. He started by splashing overwhelming layers of colors and has ended up with a “spider web of overlaid lines, perspectives and figures.”

I’m in love.

I felt like I wanted to be there, standing on the ruins of discarded sheet metal and rubble, looking up at these figures that I’ll forever be curious about—like the person who captivates you on the subway, the smell of a tea your mother used to make, the poem you’ve opened and closed so many times that the creases threaten to take it away. I am utterly dumfounded by the ability of an artist to ignite in me such a strong visceral response—it flabbergasts me, really. It reminds me of our power to create—to create tangible, real movements in our own worlds and our world with others.

Iemza’s current Web site can be found here.

I finally
broke eye contact with this … book,
with this person,
with this art,
and I walked straight over to the register.

Yes, I bought Street Sketch Book. To me, this is what art is—it’s a force that compels you to shift, change, revert, move into a space that you normally do not frequent. Feel. Breathe. Experience. You know, the good stuff. PD

jasper is a vegan bisexual, entrepreneur, and activist who lives in Austin, Texas. The first book of her first trilogy, a raw hummingbird, will be released Feb. 26, 2009. It explores the hardships, heartaches, growth, and joy associated with being a hidden, and secretly powerful, bisexual teen. Learn more about the project at www.myspace.com/arawhummingbird and arawhummingbird@gmail.com.

---

---

Square Pegs: The Complete Series
Released May 2008, $29.95

Square Pegs came out on DVD a little while ago. Most likely because it first aired in 1982, before I was born, I had never heard of it when I saw it in the new-release section of my local video store. The cover blew my mind. There was Sarah Jessica Parker, in all her teen glory, reminding me of the phenomenal Girls Just Want to Have Fun and those amazing purple highlights in Flight of the Navigator. How had I never heard of this?

The show, which lasted only one season and 19 episodes, is basically about two super-nerdy best friends, Patty (Parker) and Lauren (Amy Linker), trying to navigate their freshman year at Weemawee High School with the sole intention of becoming popular. The two are basically outcast by everyone in the school with the exception of Marshall (John Femia) and Johnny Slash (my sex god, played by the late Merritt Butrick), who are the boy versions of the star duo. The popular kids—best friends Jennifer (Tracy Nelson) and LaDonna (Claudette Wells) and Jennifer’s dumb-as-rocks boyfriend, Vinnie (Jon Caliri) —make things extra-difficult for Patty and Lauren, and super-spirited Muffy Tepperman (Jami Gertz) just makes life difficult for everyone.

The whole concept seems pretty straightforward and mundane, but there is more to it. When was the last time you turned on the TV and stumbled upon a show geared at young people with two girl nerds in the lead? The show is honest and real and so witty. Apparently, most of the writers, along with Anne Beatts, the show’s creator, were former Saturday Night Live writers, which explains a lot of the humor.

My favorite part about Square Pegs is that even though the show’s main characters are Patty and Lauren, other characters are given almost equal screen time, and awesome dialogue, making them more believable and adding tons of humor. Some of the funniest moments in the show are the asides between Jennifer and LaDonna or Jennifer and Vinnie expressing their love for each other in the most bored and unimpressed way or listening to Ms. Loomis tell her freshmen women how lonely life is. And how about Muffy working so hard to raise money for Rosarita, the Guatemalan girl who is apparently in desperate need of the season’s latest swimwear.

I’ve read a few things saying that Square Pegs is cool only for the ’80s nostalgia and awesome guests (Devo, Bill Murray), but while the ’80s culture references are pretty fun, I disagree. For me, Square Pegs is such a great representation of what high school felt like, a whole lot more than Gossip Girl or 90210 (old and new; have you seen the new one?!).

The Complete Series is wrapped up in three discs, nothing fancy. The menus aren’t spectacular at all, and the special features (“Weemawee Yearbook Memories,” featuring most of the remaining cast members and the creator, and some lame “minisodes” of The Facts of Life and Silver Spoons) aren’t all that special or interesting at all. I could definitely take them or leave them. But with that said, seriously ladies, if you haven’t yet, get out there and rent the three discs of this collection. Better yet, buy them, because you are going to want to watch this over and over again. PD

---

My love affair with Dressy Bessy began the year I turned 17. I had discovered But I’m a Cheerleader on motel-room cable and was overjoyed in that way people can be when they completely relate to something. I related to the comedy’s clandestine girl-girl love story, so I went home, rented the video, and watched it over and over. Scouring Downtown Houston independent record stores, I searched for the But I’m a Cheerleader soundtrack, needing to hear the film’s girl-heavy music forever. I eventually resigned my search, sat cross-legged on my family’s faded-brown carpet, and diligently transcribed the musical credits in my notebook, slowly realizing that the soundtrack’s greatest songs were written and performed by Denver, Colo.’s indie-pop fourpiece Dressy Bessy.

Seven years later, now living with a man but no VCR, I am still a huge Dressy Bessy fan. What I love about this band is the summery, retro-pop music they make. It’s always carried by a steady, head-bop-inducing drumbeat and rich, twangy guitar chords. Oh, and tambourines! Every song makes me smile. But what I love most about Dressy Bessy is their frontwoman and lyricist, Tammy Ealom. Her lyrics are often repetitive and catchy, but just as often they’re pointed and worth singing along to. Ealom’s mates are just as talented—John Hill (Ealom’s partner-in-romance, who also plays guitar for Apples in Stereo) on guitar, Rob Greene on bass, and, since 2005, Craig Gilbert on drums. Onstage they wear retro sweaters and have big, curly hair, but it’s short, svelte Ealom—wearing mod minidresses, kicking high, and belting her music with her mouth stretched wide open—who always steals the show.

Since September, Dressy Bessy has been touring the States, promoting their fifth full-length album, Holler and Stomp (Transdreamer Records). On Sunday, Nov. 2, they played at the Abbey Pub in Chicago, at the tail end of Halloween weekend. The crowd was sparse—weekend partiers no doubt at home suffering from spooky hangovers—but after the first few notes of “Stop Foolin’” off of DB’s last album, Electrified (2005, Transdreamer), every head in the house was bobbing; hips were swiveling. Mixed in with oldies were new songs, beginning with “Automatic,” which resonated well with trick-or-treaters: “Oh pleasure/So clever/I’m going to steal your candy/My pleasure/No pressure/I’m going to eat your candy.”

This time around, an extra musician was added to the lineup, who divided his time between keys and guitar. That’s four guitars, ladies! Four guitarists and a slammin’ drummer. Seriously, it’s the beat that drives this music, that makes these songs bounce and kick, holler and stomp. Gilbert, and drummer Darren Albert before him, always delivers, methodically pounding the bass with his foot and banging the bejesus out of the snare when it’s rock time and hitting that famous tambourine when it’s time for lazy-day, dreamy pop.

So there I stood in the dark Pub on that unseasonably not cold November night—actually, there I danced, mirroring Ealom’s random high kicks and shaking my hair from side to side, the way I always did at shows when I was a teenager—trying to decide whether or not DB’s new album is just more of the same … and whether or not I liked that. Electrified brought some snow to Dressy Bessy’s endless beach party, delivering more electric guitar and harder rock. Holler is more of a mix of that harder, guitar-heavy sound (“Automatic,” “Ease Me Down,” “Simple Girlz”) with 1999’s Pink Hearts Yellow Moon-style fuzzy, gooey, bouncy pop (“Anyone Can See,” “Left to the Right,” “Shoot, I Love You”). If my boyfriend and I still lived in different cities, the first song to go on a mixtape for him would be “Shoot, I Love You”: “Do do do do do/I’m gonna do do do do do/I love you/ So very very kind/It may just bruise my spine/I love you so/I’m gonna love you some.”

Holler and Stomp is definitely similar to older DB records; it embodies the DB rhythms and rhymes. In my opinion, though, the familiarity is not necessarily a result of a lack of originality or creativity. Since 1997, the stories Ealom and her boys tell are always different, and though they play in the same sort of style on every record, the group is constantly experimenting with different beats, harmonies, and structures. The fact is that Dressy Bessy has yet to make it “big,” in the sense of fame and fortune. Sure, some of their tracks have appeared on an independent movie, a few TV shows (among them, The Powerpuff Girls), college radio, and public radio (click here to listen) , but because they haven’t signed on to a major record label and sold their songs to corporate advertisements, they haven’t been forced to change their musical style to appeal to a broader, all-about-mainstream-radio crowd. I for one would much rather hear more of the same from my Denver friends than have them start turning out canned, shallow 4-4 pop-rock songs fit for a Gap commercial.

Midnight on Sunday, five people were spinning me around and filling my heart with loud, pleasant music, but it was Ealom who sang to me, as she has for seven years, about love (“Do do, do do do do do do do do”), relationships of all sorts (Settling with granting me your time/Don’t ask now you don’t have to/It doesn’t mean the two wrongs become right/It just makes sense to help you/I don’t mind/it makes me feel like I’ve done something nice/That’s right), and girls (“Girl, you shout!”). Toward the second half of the set, Ealom soloed “Just Like Henry” (on the But I’m a Cheerleaer soundtrack!), while the boys and the crowd watched her with awe.

Check out Dressy Bessy’s Web site to learn more about the band, to buy their albums, and to find out if they’re headed toward your city. They’ll begin touring Europe in March. PD

---

What Happens in Vegas (2008, PG-13)
Dir: Tom Vaughan; starring Cameron Diaz, Ashton Kutcher, Lake Bell, Rob Corddry, Queen Latifah, Dennis Miller

Whitney says: “Whoever wrote this movie can ride it sideways. It’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back. Never.”

Liz says: “Cameron Diaz is a romantic-comedy genius. She knows what to do, she knows when to do it, and she’s f’ing hilarious.”

[Ed. note: What follows is some discussion of downloading and viewing pirated copies of movies. All opinions of the practice found in this article are 100% the writers’ and do not reflect the editors’ opinions.]

Liz Says:

I’d like to preface this review with a two-part backstory, if I may.

First of all, I did not want to see What Happens in Vegas. There was no chance, no way, no how that I was going to see this movie. I base that on my viewings of the previews, which made it look like a big ol’ pile of crap. There were clips of Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher hitting each other, falling down, acting stupid, and just being really mean to each other. Wow, looks real funny…

Secondly, I feel that it is important to mention that I watch movies illegally—for free, online. New movies. Movies that are showing in the theater as we speak. Some say it’s “wrong,” and that’s their opinion, but I beg to differ. Back in June, What Happens in Vegas just so happened to be available to watch for free on the Internet. Remember what I just said about never wanting to watch this piece-of-crap movie? Well, once any movie becomes free, all bets are off. There is nothing more annoying than paying my hard-earned money for a bad movie. But if it’s free? Sure, why not! And I have to say that there is a certain satisfaction to be had from watching a movie that is currently being shown in the theaters in the privacy of my home while all those other saps pay money. It just feels right. But the most important aspect of my backstory lies in what I’m about to say (and then I’ll be done, I swear): This was, hands down, the most beautifully executed and best-looking pirated movie I have ever seen in my entire life. This pirated version should win the award for The Best Pirated Movie Ever. The color: outstanding. Clarity: crystal clear. And the sound (the hardest aspect of a pirated movie to perfect) sounded as if it were a DVD playing in the DVD player. All of the elements were in place. Someone somewhere wanted to make damn sure that I watched this movie, and I didn’t want to let anyone down … so I watched it.

So as soon as What Happens in Vegas started and I was aware of what a great copy it was, I knew I was going to like this movie. It’s a romantic comedy, and all romantic comedies follow the Romantic Comedy Movie Formula, which means that they are ridiculously predictable, sappy, and cheesy … but always fun along the way. Cameron Diaz is a romantic-comedy genius. She knows what to do, she knows when to do it, and she’s f’ing hilarious. The setup for the story seemed a little unnatural and forced to me, but it is a romantic comedy; they were just following the Romantic Comedy Movie Formula. The supporting cast was quite hilarious. Lake Bell plays Tipper, Joy’s (Diaz) best friend, and I really love her. I just saw her for the first time in Over Her Dead Body, and I wondered who she was because she has a unique look to her and was really great in that movie. Jack’s (Kutcher) best friend is really funny, too, played by Rob Corddry who is slowly but surely becoming one of my favorite comedic actors (he was gold in Semi-Pro).

And then we have Ashton Kutcher, who gets his very own paragraph. My thoughts on Kutcher are as follows: He bugs me. There is something about him, a certain quality to him, and I don’t really know what it is, but it’s not good. His whole celebrity persona is too big for me to take him seriously as an actor, though I will say that he was great in The Butterfly Effect. And I’ll admit that he was enjoyable to watch and actually funny in What Happens in Vegas—not every scene that he was in, mind you, but he had his moments. And I know he’s physically “attractive” by society’s textbook standards, but to me there is absolutely nothing attractive about him. Years ago, one of my friends said to me, “Ashton Kutcher is almost too perfect-looking, and it’s not very attractive,” or something along those lines. That is not a direct quote. But I really have to agree. I’ve also noticed that Kutcher’s movie characters always tend to be mopey and down in the dumps and aw-shucks like. He must be drawn to these roles for a personal reason, and it’s kind of annoying. He needs to show me some range, and he needs to show it to me real quick.

There were quite a few laugh-out-loud moments in What Happens in Vegas, and that’s why it gets my vote, man. It rocked. The ending sucked, but like I said earlier, it was just following the RCMF, and all endings of romantic comedies suck. The real question here is: Would I have enjoyed this movie had I paid money to see it? I’m going to go ahead and say that I would have liked it if even if I’d had to pay to watch it. It is entertaining, enjoyable, and really fun to watch.

Whitney Says:

Pre-movie feelings: I have no interest whatsoever in seeing What Happens in Vegas. Elizabeth has forced me to watch it because she took it upon herself (for some reason) to watch and review this movie. I don’t think that it’s going to be worth a piss. However, I do have the advantage of having just returned from Las Vegas from a trip with Elizabeth, so there’s a slight chance I might actually enjoy the movie and perhaps kindle a sense of nostalgia from it.

Post-movie feelings: Wow … I spent days and days illegally downloading this movie off the Internet (it finished, as a matter of fact, while Liz and I were in Las Vegas recently) for this? It’s a movie loosely based on betting, and I’ll bet that I’m the only person in the world who’s tried so hard to download this pile of hogwash (second only to Liz, probably). I was more excited when I lost $40 in the slot machines.

The plot was good … except for its likeness to a butthole. As the frames rolled across my eyeballs, the word “stupid” popped into my head about 20 times, accompanied by the words: “unbelievable,” “unrealistic,” “predictable,” “asinine,” “juvenile,” “cliché,” and “boring.”

Real quick, the film opens up in New York City. We learn that Joy is a frigid stockbroker and Jack is a sloppy slacker. Joy’s fiancé dumps her, Jack gets fired, and they both go to Las Vegas with their friends to lick their wounds. There they meet, get wasted, and get married.

What Happens in Vegas loses steam sooo fast. After the first 30 minutes, all bets are off as this movie plummets headfirst into a five-card fold. It is hard to watch. This is supposed to be a comedy, yet I can count on one hand how many times I laughed. For the hell of it, I’ll list them for you now with reckless abandon:
1) When Joy acknowledges her rival on the stock-market floor
2) The screaming-in-the-bathroom scene with Joy in a shower cap
3) The rub-off tattoo
4) The Murphy Bed that fell out of the wall like a piece of junk
5) The surprise-party breakup
6) I know I said one hand, but for good measure, there was a line delivered by Diaz that was hilarious.

I loved that Diaz’s character worked in the stock market. She was the best thing about the movie, because she’s the funniest mutha in every flick she’s in.

Usually, I like Kutcher (handsome and funny), but he wasn’t “all there” for this movie. He was a couple balls short of a bocce game. Also, his hair bugged the bologna out of me. It looked like a cow licked his bangs to his forehead. And his “girlfriend” in the beginning… What the hell was that? Was that just to establish that he was a dog who couldn’t commit? I didn’t buy it, as the lines between them were served as coldly as a Tofutti bar. (However, the insignificant girlfriend was a car mechanic; that I liked.) Furthermore, at the beginning of the film, as soon as Jack’s boss says, “You’re fired,” I knew it was his dad. It’s been done before, peopllllle.

Jack’s and Joy’s friends could have been funny, but they were just annoying and typical with no cards up their sleeves. Dennis Miller and Queen Latifah added a little color to this monotone film, whose solitary shade was a musty brown. But overall, I couldn’t bring myself to care about any character in this film.

On a side note, I didn’t care for the homosexual jokes (I counted three), simply because they weren’t smart or funny. Don’t get me wrong; I’m all for gay jokes, but they have to be clever and not stupid.

The strongest part of the movie (as if it were worth evaluating) was the beginning, when they were actually in Las Vegas. I’m going to say I was a little annoyed at the fact that they weren’t even in Vegas for more than a quarter of the movie. I actually don’t think it’s fair that they used the prestigious Vegas slogan as the movie title! It leaves me feeling cheated and underhanded.

At the end, when Joy quits her job (which I hated, by the way), I was like, “Please be over, please be over, please be over.” But no … then they had to tack on this lighthouse bullshit. Really? A lighthouse? Are you for real right now?

I don’t think anyone had fun making this movie. It would’ve been all right except that it was about an hour and half too long (The movie’s total running time: 1 hr. 39 min.)

Highlights:
1) The Bellagio
2) The line: “Oh shitballs”

After I was done watching the movie on my laptop, I grabbed its little folder with my mouse and threw it in the trash. Whoever wrote this movie can ride it sideways. It’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back. Never.

Liz’s Rebuttal:

Your review is hilarious, Whitney. What’s most hilarious is that I agree with almost everything you said and yet I actually think the movie is watchable, and it entertained me. It’s a no-brainer movie; we all need those once in a while. It’s a romantic comedy; what did you expect?

I am kind of gathering that you disliked this movie as much as I disliked Indiana. So, now we’re even.

Whitney’s Rebuttal:

We are not even, because both of them sucked ass. Oh, and what do I expect from a romantic comedy? I expect to laugh, Liz. I expect to laugh.

I can’t believe you made me watch this movie. There were movies out at the same time that were waaaay more appealing than this one, so why you actually chose to watch What Happens in Vegas is beyond me.
WHERE was the romance? I certainly didn’t feel it! And WHERE was this comedy you keep speaking of? It was about as funny as The Silence of the Lambs (which does have a couple of funny parts). And not all endings in romantic comedies suck. If you think so, it sounds like you’re “settling” on some of them. If a movie (romantic comedy or what-have-you) has anything in it that sucks, then it is, therefore, not a great movie.

What you said about Kutcher is funny, though. And, God, I love Cameron Diaz. Enough to forgive her for making this turd of a film. She was the only thing that kept my eyes on the screen.

Finally, I direct this comment toward the reader, because Liz already knows how I feel. It’s true that the illegal downloaded copy of WHIV was a good one, but that’s because it was ripped from a DVD screener. Most of these movies you download off the Internet (while the movie is in the theater) are recorded in the cinema house with a video camera and are usually POOR quality. Sometimes they even cut out big sections of the screen! Unlike Elizabeth, I appreciate movies as a visual/audio art, so I simply won’t settle for a movie that sometimes stops in mid-frame (buffering), has terrible sound, and a splotchy, edited picture (edited by the person filming with the low-quality, home-video camera). If you truly wanted to experience, say, the art of Van Gogh, would you want to look at someone’s cheap, off-color snapshots of his work? Or would you go to the Museum of Modern Art to see the originals? However, if it’s a good copy (like, ripped from an actual DVD of the movie), I’ll take it! (My feelings and commentary about pirated films have nothing whatsoever to do with morals; I’m all for free stuff. My reasoning is, if I could afford it, I’d go to the movie theater every day. But since I’m poor, I’ve got to find the loopholes and culture myself. Bottom line: Cover your own ass, people.)

Liz’s Second Rebuttal:

I stand by my assessment 100%. I actually can’t wait to watch this movie while lying around the house in my underwear and eating chocolate-chip-cookie dough. It will be bliss. Pure bliss and enjoyment, and I’ll laugh my ass off. And I’d also like to state that I don’t give a rat’s ass if you watched a DVD copy or a pirated version. The only thing that matters to me is what I watched. I watched a pirated version. And I’ll do it again in a heartbeat. Oh, and one more thing … you’re a bitch, Whitney. PD

---

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008, PG-13)
Dir: Steven Spielberg, starring Harrison Ford, Cate Blanchett, Karen Allen, Shia LaBeouf, Ray Winstone

Whitney says: Don’t give any more [money] to Steven Spielberg.

Liz says: I would shut off my television and run down the street screaming if I ever saw this movie on TV.

Spoilers to come…

Whitney Says:

You know, it’s not that Harrison Ford is 100 years old or that they’re forcing this unattractive Shia LaBeouf person on us or that they brought back Karen Allen and Steven Spielberg let her look like an ass clown (though I did actually like her in this film). It’s that we are all being served a bunch of bullshit as of late, as far as modern American cinema is concerned. I believe it’s a direct reflection of the state of our country right now, actually. The United States and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull are both full of people who are smiling when they should be shitting in their pants in the face of danger.

Truth be told, upon entering the theater, my date and I wanted to see You Don’t Mess With the Zohan, but it was sold out. I wanted to love the new Indiana Jones. I did. I love Indiana Jones (Temple of Doom in the hoooouse!). It starts out good enough, and then everything escalates into a cliché and predictable doo-doo cluster. There are just too many scenes where I was like, “yeah, right.”

In the past, usually Indiana manages to get out of situations with a little bit of dumb luck. In this new movie, eeeeverything is over-the-top calculated. When Mutt (LaBeouf) fences between cars… Please! When they’re all being shot at repeatedly and no one gets hit… Please. When the main characters don’t crash in the motorcycle scene; when a series of huge waterfalls throws everyone over the edge, not once but three times without a scratch; when Indi is projected a good mile or so through the air in a refrigerator by way of an atomic-bomb blast… Please, please, PLEASE! I’m not even naming them all; there are at least a dozen impossible situations identical to these.

No one gets hurt during the waterfall scene. That’s like having a high-speed car accident three times! They’d be knocked out at least. The atomic-bomb stuff is neat (and I feel may have been “borrowed” from the cinematic shitball known only as The Hills Have Eyes remake. Or perhaps Spielberg’s trying to compete with James Cameron’s overwhelming atomic-bomb scene in the classic T2. He’s trying too hard). Regardless, before the blast, I would’ve at least tried to make out with one of the mannequins first.

Although her character is stereotypical (not her fault; is it, Mr. Spielberg?), Cate Blanchett does a great job as Col. Dr. Irina Spalko. She’s beautiful, mean, and has a sword. She is the only great thing about the movie, and the aliens kill her! Let me say something here. I’ve been obsessed with aliens for many, many years, and I think I know a thing or two about extraterrestrials. If intelligent beings existed, they would not have disintegrated Dr. Spalko simply based on the fact that she wanted to “know more,” nor would they have judged her for killing no telling how many innocent people.

One funny part is when Indiana (Ford) and Marion (Allen) are sinking in quicksand and she tells him Mutt is his son. I took note then of a pattern in movies where women get pregnant and never tell the dad the baby’s his (Forrest Gump, The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, Superman Returns, etc.). You better believe if I’m having a baby (which I won’t anytime soon), the father will be the first to know, because I’m getting child support, dammit! Are these women crazy?

To rap it up, here are the things that I liked about this movie, in this order:
1. Nice array of animal shots: groundhogs, ants, scorpions, snakes, monkeys
2. Cate Blanchett
3. Aliens
4. Harrison Ford
5. The café/bar fight scene
6. Harrison Ford was paired romantically with someone his own age in the end
7. Movie theater was nice, half-filled, pleasant.
8. My date’s muscular arms
9. Even though the film is fruitless, it is entertaining
10. The end came, and we got to leave

In a nutshell, Crystal Skull is just one huge, constant climax. The thrill of there being an actual climax in a movie is that there is a coming-up and a coming-down-from point surrounding the climax, which makes watching it unfold enjoyable. An unflagging, perpetual climax makes it not a climax at all! Am I right?

Is there no new material out there? Give the money to new (or talented) filmmakers. Don’t give any more of it to Steven Spielberg. Obviously, he’s given up; he couldn’t make an honest movie to save his life. He overkills and is afraid to be simple (which, to me, is what most great movies are). There was so much explaining of the plot in this movie that I grew tired of it quickly and lost my faith in it having any substance after the first 30 minutes. My date, however, “loved it.”

Annoyingly, at the movie’s end, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is left open for a sequel starring LaBeouf—gag me with a spoon. No one can replace Harrison Ford.




Lizzy Poo Says:

Oh, Indiana. How you toy with me. I just finished viewing this motion picture, and I’m depressed. All of my fears were justified, I’ll never forget what I just witnessed, and I will be scarred forever. I took notes during this film, and instead of retyping them all into cohesive and well-prepared paragraphs, I think it will be best for me just to list them for you now. My spirit is shattered at what I’ve just seen, and I want to get this review out of the way as quickly as possible. So, without further ado, here are my notes for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull:

• It’s starting out incredibly cheesy; let’s hope it grows out of that.
• Harrison Ford really utters some corny lines.
• Cate Blanchett’s character is very similar to the Austrian woman in The Last Crusade. We’ve already seen this done before, and it seems unoriginal.
• Another aspect that is unfortunate is the same ol’ theme we always see played out: Americans = good, and anyone with an accent = bad. Haven’t we moved past this already, not only as a society but in the characters we see in movies?
• Starts off with too much action, I don’t understand what’s going on, and it’s losing my interest really quickly.
• Harrison Ford … is sucking. I was told by many people (family, friends, and casual acquaintances) how horrendous this movie was, but they always made sure to point out that Harrison Ford was the only positive thing about this movie. I disagree.
• Atomic-bomb-testing scene: While visually neat, it doesn’t fit into the movie, is pointless, and he just so happens to get blown out of it while hiding in a refrigerator. If you’re going to throw a scene into a movie, have there be a reason for it!



• This move is trying way too hard to be epic. Being epic isn’t something you can force; it’s something that happens naturally.
• Shia … why?! Oh my god. He’s not pulling off being a tough biker kid at all.
• Wow … Shia sucks some serious ass as an actor.
• “It’s gibberish; it’s not even English lettering”—actual sentence uttered by Shia. … If this movie were an airplane, one of its engines just went out and it’s now plummeting to the earth very fast.
• Setting this movie in the 1950s seems pointless to me and is being used for “nostalgic” purposes only. There is no basis for it in the story to back it up. So you set a movie in the 1950s just to have a guy in the diner say, “Get that greaser!” How the hell does this relate to the story in any way?
• Only funny thing to happen so far: In the diner scene, Shia hits a guy (why??), and then his girlfriend says, “That’s my boyfriend!” and pops Shia in the face. I laughed out loud. It was a single “ha!” sound and lasted one second only.
• Trying to stay focused enough to actually watch this film is genuinely difficult. The only way I’m getting through it is by stopping every minute or so, taking notes on my progress. Things are not going well here. And I fear it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.
• I’m assuming that George Lucas handpicked Shia for this role. Just like he picked Hayden Christiansen to play Anakin Skywalker. I rest my case.
• OK. It went there. Showing the indigenous people as bloodthirsty “animals” who yell and scream and are basically just monsters. I was waiting for this movie to go there … and it did.
• I am currently giving this movie negative 5 stars. If it wants to pull itself out of its own ass, it better thrill me soon.
• This crystal skull business would have interested me more if it weren’t a hoax in reality. Why not choose a story line that is actually interesting? And maybe I’d half-care about any of it if this movie was at least halfway watchable.
• Ray Winstone is in this film. He has a bit part in this film (as Mac), and I wish he were in it more. Surprisingly enough, he’s actually one of my favorite actors. He is in Sexy Beast, and I love that movie. Every time I see him in a film I’m completely captivated by him and am in awe of his acting skills. I truly love him. Why he (or Cate Blanchett, for that matter) chose to be in this film is beyond me.
• Even Cate Blanchett sucks in this movie. This is a first.
• This movie is slowly but surely ruining everything I held sacred in my childhood.
• Aaaaaand here is the quicksand scene.
• I’m saddened to think of the younger generation growing up with this movie as part of their pop culture and as something that defines their generation.
• This long chase scene toward the end is like watching a 3 Stooges bit.
• The car landing in a tree and being gently lowered to the ground—are you kidding me?! And then they survive waterfalls while their vehicle stays intact… At this point, none of this is even worth commenting on or thinking about. I just want to forget I ever saw this.
• There is an alien—and a spaceship—at the end that is kind of neat to look at, but the movie has been so horrid up until now that I’m not interested in any of it.
• The City of Gold actually translates into the City of Knowledge. I wish this movie had been made in the City of Good Movies.
• Pale imitation of what these movies once were. It’s lost its glory. It has the shell but missing the soul.
• Making this shitty movie is sacrilegious.
• As far as George Lucas is concerned, I don’t think it’s humanly possible not to become warped and tainted in your old age. Then you add millions upon millions of dollars to that, and we all get a disaster. It’s OK to step aside and let someone else direct a movie. How exciting it would have been to have a young and up-and-coming director take the reins on this one. Someone who grew up with this trilogy (like I did) and who holds it near and dear to his or her heart.
• Remaking this movie is akin to humans wanting to prolong life forever but not really knowing why. Afraid of death, afraid of things ending perhaps? Well, guess what: People die, ideas die out, animals die out, plants die out, and movie trilogies need to come to an end. Sometimes the most beautiful thing anyone or anything can do is to die, to end. This trilogy should have stayed just that: a trilogy.

There you have it, folks. Like I said earlier, I am depressed right now. I was literally dreading watching this movie because I did not want to see my favorite movie trilogy of all time go down the drain. And yet that’s exactly what happened. It’s OK to leave well enough alone and allow this series to have some dignity. But George Lucas couldn’t do that. He has forever tainted my beautiful and glorious Indiana Jones memories with this newest installment. I am going to go and lie down now.

Whitney’s Rebuttal:

I agree. They (Spielberg and Lucas) ruined the movie. All the pieces to make a masterpiece were there: good actors, special effects, somewhat workable plot, etc. But it was like messing up a batch of chocolate-chip cookies. Instead of putting the ingredients together in the right combination, dropping dough balls on the pan, and cooking them in the oven, they cooked the individual ingredients first and then tried to combine them to make cookies.

I can’t believe there was a spaceship in Indiana Jones.

(You know what? For a second I thought one of us was wrong about George Lucas or Steven Spielberg being a part of the movie, but it was indeed written by Lucas and directed by Spielberg. A double butt-fuck.)

Liz’s Rebuttal:

Dammit, this movie was awful. Even writing this rebuttal is difficult, and I will be happy when I never write about, read about, or watch this movie ever again. I think it’s funny how we agreed on many points and even brought up some of the same scenes and had similar opinions to them. With one difference: I would not watch this movie if it came on TV. I would shut off my television and run down the street screaming if I ever saw this movie on TV. PD


******

Don’t believe ‘em? Desperate to prove them wrong? Love terrible movies? Well, lucky for you, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is available to rent on DVD! You’ve been warned.

Liz and Whitney began their long-running friendship (and ongoing argument) at the tender age of 13 in Miss Cliburn’s eighth-grade English class at Creekwood Middle School in the village of Bear Branch in Kingwood, Texas. Kingwood is now (but wasn’t then) an official piece of Houston. Miss Cliburn was a cocky, whip-smart, cool woman with a deep voice and largish, dome-like, blond hair. She often wore blue jeans with button-up blouses and carried herself with a great deal of class and sophistication, which Liz and Whitney have continuously strived to duplicate as they’ve progressed in age. They’ll never give up. Both of these women love and respect movies like you wouldn’t believe and are always ready to combine and take their extensive knowledge of film and writing to the next level. Elizabeth and Whitney are college graduates and live in San Diego and Brooklyn, respectively.