Follow the yellow slick road…

An origin tale of how a sideshow charlatan becomes the Wizard of Oz, OZ THE GREAT AND POWERFUL is as wondrous and exciting as the film that inspired it, which means it is kaleidoscopically trippy and makes no sense.

In 1905 sepia-toned Kansas, James Franco is carnival magician Oscar Diggs, a womanizing narcissist, swept away in a tornado to a bombastic Technicolor land where animals talk, magic exists and women are (still) witches. He uses his duplicity and illusionist sleight of hand to dupe the populace into thinking he is the great Wizard spoken of in legends, and is emplaced in the Emerald Palace just before Judy Garland arrives with all the good drugs.

First there was the vaudeville B-Movie that became a legend in 1939, THE WIZARD OF OZ; the blaxploitation remake THE WIZ in 1978; the dark, largely-overlooked RETURN TO OZ in 1985 (which would be appreciated more readily in these DARK KNIGHT times); and now, adhering to the fad of the age, OZ THE GREAT AND POWERFUL is a prequel exploring how the Wizard became The Man Behind The Curtain.

An intriguing concept, the visually gluttonous GREAT AND POWERFUL could have been darker, but unfortunately ends up drowning in Disney syrup (except for the fearsome flying baboons, which I suspect caused as much sleep trauma for today’s kids as the now puppet-looking flying monkeys caused for 1939’s kids). Its pedigree will give it more impetus than it deserves, umbilically linked as it is with 1939’s WIZARD. Not to say that WIZARD was a daring film – a product of its times, only achieving classic status for the fact that parents keep administering it to their children as readily as Ritalin, lending it more credibility than the half-baked LSD trip that it really is.

When Oscar lands in Oz, he meets three women (Mila Kunis, Rachel Weisz and Michelle Williams), all of whom seem morally ambiguous; no matter how tasty each of them looks, they all have some ulterior agenda and at the slightest prompting are apt to suddenly turn into evil witches – in other words, they’re your average woman.

One of the witches (claiming to be “good”) sends Oscar on a quest to destroy the “evil” witch in order to claim his castle of gold. On his quest along the yellow brick road, Oscar is aided by a monkey called Monkey (Zach Braff) and a cute little china girl that he calls Little China Girl. (She seems like Jena Malone, but she is voiced by Joey King.) They all, in turn, call him Wizard. An endearing moment when Oscar tells the china girl of “a real wizard – Thomas Alva Edison – the Wizard of Menlo Park.” A very cool real world credit in this fantasy film.

Directed by Sam Raimi (of the SPIDER-MAN trilogy, which means that Bruce Campbell will somehow make a cameo – he does, as an Emerald City Guard), GREAT AND POWERFUL looks striking, and will amuse the same demographic that the original film was aimed at (i.e. very young hyperactive kids on Ritalin). And James Franco is the perfect foil for this land where duplicity reigns over naïveté, able to pull off that innocent smile to sell his snake-oil, yet having the braggadocio to counter the witches.

It’s a great angle – that of an illusionist tricking his way into the post of Wizard; that is, after all, what the actual “wizard” turns out to be in WIZARD OF OZ – a charlatan. And strangely, it is through his mendacity that Oscar finds redemption, as the very same trickery he used to charm people into believing he was a Wizard is employed to defeat the evil witches.

But there’s a conceptual problem: when you bring REAL MAGIC into the mix, it skews everything, including good storytelling, because the boundaries of Real Magic are never delineated. For example, when the baboon grabs the good witch, she has her wand with her – a wand that can conjure tornadoes of fire and liquid nitrogen and laser blasts – yet the baboon grabs her anyway. Was the wand battery low or something? And why is china girl so amazed at Edison creating “pictures that move” when she lives in a world where witches can fly in bubbles and shoot lethal energy bolts from their hands? And she’s a porcelain doll that lives and breathes, against all biological laws! Gimme some rules, people!

And the greatest conundrum of all: how could the evil witches possibly be fooled by Oscar’s trickery? Playing devil’s advocate, I guess that in a world of REAL magic, you would not be expecting, nor would you even conceive of, someone bringing ILLUSION into the fray. So when Oscar projects his face onto the town square in a pillar of smoke, these witches would be inclined to believe that he must be using magic, because in their minds there is no other option. Still, I’m sure the 5 – 15 demo is not rationalizing this scenario.

They’re all on Ritalin.

END

I Didn’t Shit Right For a Week.

So filthy. So disgusting. So irreverent… So funny.

Billy Bob Thornton gives new meaning to “Santa Claus is coming to town” as a drunken, lecherous, foul-mouthed thief posing as a department store Santa with his accomplice elf (little person, Tony Cox), only to rob each store that employs them.

BAD SANTA is THE funniest film about that maudlin end-of-year idiot season, told with leering gusto and outrageous bravado by director Terry Zwigoff and writers, Glenn Ficarra and John Requa. This ain’t ELF (2003).

It helps if you’re not offended by atheism. It helps if you’re not offended by alcoholism around young kids. It helps if you’re not offended by a kiddie icon with a backdoor fetish and a bargirl with a Santa fetish; it helps if you’re not uncomfortable around extremely old people, little people, fat people, black people; it helps if you’re not an ass-klown; it helps if you’re not offended by the n-word, by the f-word, the p-word, the m-word, the s-word, and of course, the most offensive of all, the c-word – christmas…

It would help if you just didn’t tell your parents you were watching BAD SANTA. Even if you’re an adult.

No matter how much his elf berates him, no matter how many BBW salesgirls he plonks in the dressing rooms, proclaiming, “You ain’t gonna shit right for a week!”; no matter how many times he pukes on kids or pisses himself in the Santa chair, nothing can stop Billy Bob’s Santa spiraling into the drain.

Until he meets Thurman. Thurman Merman (Brett Kelly): the model that evolution used for all neo maxi zoom dweebies. Thurman is 10, chubby, picked on by older kids at school and holds an unwavering belief that this is really Santa, against all the denials and derogation Santa hurls at him. He is almost a stalker – actually, he IS a stalker, who intervenes and saves Santa’s life when Ajay Naidu makes a cameo as a Hindustani Santa-hater and tries to ass-rape Santa while maintaining vociferously, “I’m not gay!”

I’d like to say Santa’s heart is quaintly thawed by neurotic young Thurman and his advent calendar and the gift pickle carved from wood and colored with his own blood, but, well… you can see it ain’t that quaint.

Santa hides out in Thurman’s house, drunk, plonking the Santa-fetish bargirl (sweet Lauren Graham) and stealing Thurman’s chocolates from his advent calendar. The turning point comes when Santa stands up to Thurman’s bullies, surprising himself that he could care for someone other than himself.

Hang on – it still doesn’t get quaint. It just gets drunker. And ends with a pink elephant.

John Ritter (in his last role) is the perturbed store manager who is too afraid to fire Santa and his elf for fear of pc repercussions, empowering security manager Bernie Mac to do it – who doesn’t fire them but blackmails them for a piece of the action.

BAD SANTA is not one of those movies that giggles behinds its hands and pretends to be insurrect while delivering a message of Joy To The World (CHRISTMAS WITH THE KRANKS, 2004), or – worse still – one of those movies that purports to delivering a message of Joy To The World while really preaching antisocialism and evil (DECK THE HALLS, 2006). If you want something refreshing in your stocking besides toejam and creamy contradictory messages of peace on earth, do BAD SANTA.

From behind.

END

So Much Effort, So Little Movie.

Jim Carrey in another 10-star performance. Alas, for a mere 6-star movie.

Where one has come to expect simply another mugging, scenery-chewing turn from Jim Carrey, in ME, MYSELF AND IRENE he surprises elegantly with his controlled portrayal of amiable Charlie Baileygates, a disrespected Rhode Island police officer whose retention of insults, barbs, put-downs and slurs over the years causes a flamboyant, narcissistic, violent alter-ego to emerge – “Hank.”

While helping a fugitive (Renée Zellweger) flee corrupt police, Charlie inadvertently keeps reverting to Hank whenever adversity surfaces. At first, the two characters inhabit Charlie’s body exclusively one at a time, but as the stakes ramp up towards the chase finale, the two personalities battle one another for supremacy.

Carrey’s acting skills are never more apparent than in his constant, convincing switching from, as the slogans say, “gentle to mental.” The wealth of nuance and detail with which Carrey fleshes out these disparate personalities is a wonder to behold.

But then… everyone has their own two cents’…

With the Farrelly Brothers helming this project, one can safely say it is not for a family audience, with savage forays into the realm of bad taste, black humor and political incorrectness.
Leonard Maltin, At The Movies.

This movie warrants an ‘R’ rating for its portrayal of harm to minors and animals. The movie requires extensive rewriting, which should see actor Carrey reconciling his recklessness with moral rectitude. We are not concerned with the comedic element, which would, of course, be adversely affected by this rewrite; we are only concerned about saving our children from dangerous cinema which could lead to heroin and dancing.
Bernard Siedelman, MPAA.

I am outraged that the MPAA allowed this movie to pass muster, with its insouciant approach to violence, swearing, adultery, sexual aids, murder, animal mutilation and child-accosting. This film defines the Farrelly Brothers as men of deplorable moral standing. I pray that one day they will look upon the face of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and beg forgiveness.
Oral Roberts, evangelist.

In a world…
where the law makes its own rules…
and justice…
is a two-faced enemy…
one man…
finds that two faces…
are twice the problem.
Jim Carrey…
in a role which will astound you…
in a quest…
to fight for the girl he loves…
against the man he is.
Don LaFontaine, The Voiceover Guy.

Many times have I felt the same black vitriol towards those of flesh color, when they ceaselessly cajole and taunt me for my lack of pigmentation. In this age of tolerance, I am shocked that my people are represented in such a disrespectful manner in this film. When Hank meets Casper and calls him Milky, I nearly wrote a letter to the MPAA, asking for the banning of this movie. We only lack skin pigmentation, not feelings.
David Spangler, Albino Americans Monthly.

At last, a movie that goes against all stereotypes and repreZENTS the black brothers as the brain niggas dey so obfuscatinly IS – Lemme tell you, girlfrayn, dem homies playin’ at Charlie’s boys were de ILLEST, bustin’ Einstein moves like no nigga never done befo, getting’ all cerebral CORtex up in this mofo – Know-wahm-sayin?
Moyesha Jackson, Black Entertainment Television.

This movie kicks My Pet Goat to the curb. It proves Americans are truly dirty and sick and should suffer the wrath of Allah, preferably on September 11, 2001.
Osama bin Laden, Son Of Islam.

This movie kicks ass. It proves Americans are free to be as dirty or as sick as they wanna be.
Dennis Rodman, NBA.

What can I say? I gave Jim Carrey talents which he is using to their fullest potential, while some of you I made as dumb as a bag of hammers. Speaking of which, I have never, ever spoken to George W. Bush.
God (Christian chapter).

The Farrelly Brothers seem to have no knack for creating beige movies. Somehow they find a way to make even the most nondescript scenes “pop.” Their movies never flow with a boring grace that accentuates their underlying lack of storyline and uninteresting characters, like my movies.
John Hughes, director.

I am extremely happy with the way the chauffeur is represented in this movie. For too long, we have struggled against the inherent disrespect of our fellow humans, who call us midgets, dwarves, elves, little people – everything except the right term, which is “human.” At last, a movie that does not differentiate between size, strength and sexual prowess. When Jim Carrey gets a nun-chuk beating from Tony Cox (one of the heroes of our little person’s community), I wanted to write the Farrelly Brothers congratulating them on assigning such a powerful role to such a small person. The fact that Cox stole away Carrey’s new bride, and was a chartered member of MENSA, like myself, gave me enough confidence to try out for the role of the teenage Darth Vader in Star Wars Part Two. Unfortunately, the part went to that whiteboy who couldn’t act.
Samuel K. Washington, S.M.A.L.L. (Small Men’s American League Lobby)

I am in love. Like sunshine on a cloudy day, the birds swooping and warbling, even as the night comes to rest on whispered eaves. Her taut stomach peeking from beneath glad-wrapped t-shirt and cream-cheese bobbin-breasts aching for my silky touch upon her white, bare back and shoulders, pouting lips so full and insatiable, as the stars shine with renewed vigor, anointing mine eyes with the vision of her pale cheeks nuzzling a warm hand emplaced there in hungered affection. Oh Renée, how dost thou hold the moonlight in thy dark eyes, blond tresses unashamedly flowing like waterfall honey upon thy girl-shoulders; oh, Renée: to touch, to dream, perchance to stroke firm skin heated by the furnace of desire, tongue-slick on thy silken neck, jeweled casket lined with slippery buds, accepting, unrelenting, steam-piston propelling, driving, eighteen-wheeled, nerves of steel, diesel fuel – super cruel – Oh God! My pants! –
Poffy The Cucumber, Rebel Newsboy.

END