Reality check for 'Dreamz:' film's not funny

April 28, 2006

Stephen Colbert is brilliant.

Monday through Thursday nights on Comedy Central's "The Colbert Report," Colbert takes on the persona of a right wing, in-your-face TV news pundit who'll defend the Bush administration to the death. He's like Bill O'Reilly, only likable.

It's all an act, though, and his shtick only works because his impersonations of the pundits are dead-on, inane outcries about the government and all. He's studied his targets and by taking on their characteristics, he is able to in turn make fun of them by pointing out their flaws through irony, sarcasm and wit. That's the nature of a satire.

American Dreamz wants to be as funny and satirical as an episode of "The Colbert Report" or "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart" but fails miserably. In what could have been an interesting look at pop culture, writer and director Paul Weitz (American Pie, About a Boy, In Good Company) instead overreaches in this silly excuse for a satire that draws more yawns than chuckles.

The film attempts to be an indictment on American society - one that is at war in Iraq, lead by a less-than-smart president with a chief of staff who does all the talking, and in which a popular TV show that finds the next big pop star garners more public interest than current affairs.

Sounds familiar. Still, the film pulls punches left and right and takes easy shots at the president and other Americans that never follow through.

Martin Tweed (Hugh Grant) hosts the phenomenally popular reality show "American Dreamz," a play on "American Idol," and is a cross between the real show's snotty British judge, Simon Cowell, and pretentious host, Ryan Seacrest. Tweed has no morals or integrity and only cares about the bottom line: what will bring in more ratings.

For the next season of "American Dreamz," Tweed scours the country in search of the next poor soul he and his producers can market to America. Playing the blonde, small town girl-next-door is Sally Kendoo (Mandy Moore). Providing the ethnic variety for the show is Omer (Sam Golzari), a trained Iraqi terrorist, with a passion for show tunes, sent to live with relatives in Orange County, Calif.

While Tweed is casting the next season of the show, trouble is brewing in Washington. President Staton (Dennis Quaid), fresh off re-election and an obvious parody of President Bush, has decided to take a break from running the country by closing himself off in his room and reading newspapers and books, items he usually has avoided. His chief of staff (Willem Dafoe), who looks a lot like Vice President Dick Cheney, does the talking for him, and along with the first lady (Marcia Gay Harden), consoles Staton and encourages him to stop reading and get back out in public.

Once members of the press begin questioning the mental stability of the president, the unnamed chief of staff swiftly attempts to save face by scheduling back-to-back public appearances for Staton, including one as a guest judge on the "American Dreamz" finale.

Making Staton have the mental capacity of a third-grader is the easy way out, and here's where Weitz could have learned a trick or two from Colbert. Staton is the version of Bush that some critics assume is the reality, not the persona presented to the American public. Bush has his verbal gaffs and incredulous facial expressions, so why not use those as a starting point for a characterization?

One scene shows Staton describing his belief that he's been appointed by God to his position of power, and another shows the chief of staff telling the White House press core to not ask questions about the president and to remember that, because the country is at war, they should focus on what's really important. These critiques of current trends in our society are not without merit, but they're not fully developed.

Because Weitz doesn't delve into the real problems behind these characters, based on real people, the critiques are barely noted and come across as merely whines from self-proclaimed martyrs. These issues deserve more than the canned presumptions displayed in the film.

The scenes between Staton and his chief of staff fall flat because there's no meat to them. There's a line somewhere between imitating a person and imitating an idea of a person or a caricature of them. It's thin, but it's there. Will Ferrell impersonating Bush on "Saturday Night Live:" funny. President Staton in American Dreamz: not funny.

Moore makes an impressive turn as Sally, proving she's grown past her teen pop days. Too bad this film's humor isn't as biting as another film of Moore's, Saved! It's also unfortunate that Jennifer Coolidge (Best in Show, American Pie, Legally Blonde) wasn't given better material to work with to deliver her usual, hilarious deadpan. Grant's portrayal of Tweed is confusing; we see glimpses of humanity coming from him, or a deeper sense of self-awareness than you'd expect, but they're few and far between.

In American Dreamz, Weitz apparently wants to comment on the state of American society and our preference to choose our own reality - believe what we want to believe - rather than accept the reality that's been dealt to us. He's got a point, but it's lost amid the fruitless noise coming from the underdeveloped and stereotypical characters' mouths.

His previous films, mainly About a Boy, have had a certain charm and wit to them that American Dreamz lacks. The only thing I left the theatre with was a bitter taste in my mouth and a shared sense of his disillusionment.

Toward the end of the film, one of the characters says that Americans can't be held responsible for the actions of their country, which was surprising to hear. Perhaps Weitz forgot to take his own advice and did what he is criticizing others for: he created his own version of reality.

American society deserves its share of criticism, as does the current administration, but American Dreamz doesn't cut it.

Pieter Bruegel, "The Parable of the Blind Leading the Blind"

My friend and I thought this painting would look great on the back of a Students' Association shirt. We'd have the SA logo on the front, then Bruegel's piece on the back. No description necessary. We could probably sell them to the rest of the student body and use the revenue on something they want instead of on, you know, office supplies and executive officer scholarships. (I still love you, Mr. Scott).

Where the crap is Walt?

The definition of Senioritis: At about 4:30 p.m. today, I realized I had completely forgotten to go to my 1 p.m. class. It hadn't even crossed my mind all day. Only when I saw the textbook for that class in my bag did I realize I had missed it. I'm going insane.

- - - - - -

It's disappointing that I've been able to guess the major plot twists on "Lost" the past two episodes. If I'm half-heartedly guessing the big secret at the end, J.J. Abrams, you just aren't trying hard enough. Get it together, man. Season's almost over. Impress me.

- - - - - -

I've already been to the new Starbucks on campus three times today. You will rarely see me without a Starbucks cup in my hand from now until graduation. I'm testing how much caffeine one person can handle.

I Like This.

My look-alike, J.K. Rowling (I just call her Jo when we hang out), recently posted this article on her Web site. It's been picked up by various media, some praising her, some critisizing. I'm not sure how you can make a strong argument against her opinions that our society is weight-obsessed, but then again, people will argue about anything. Just look at me.


For Girls Only, Probably...

Being thin. Probably not a subject that you ever expected to read about on this website, but my recent trip to London got me thinking...

It started in the car on the way to Leavesden film studios. I whiled away part of the journey reading a magazine that featured several glossy photographs of a very young woman who is either seriously ill or suffering from an eating disorder (which is, of course, the same thing); anyway, there is no other explanation for the shape of her body. She can talk about eating absolutely loads, being terribly busy and having the world's fastest metabolism until her tongue drops off (hooray! Another couple of ounces gone!), but her concave stomach, protruding ribs and stick-like arms tell a different story. This girl needs help, but, the world being what it is, they're sticking her on magazine covers instead. All this passed through my mind as I read the interview, then I threw the horrible thing aside.

But blow me down if the subject of girls and thinness didn't crop up shortly after I got out of the car. I was talking to one of the actors and, somehow or other, we got onto the subject of a girl he knows (not any of the Potter actresses – somebody from his life beyond the films) who had been dubbed 'fat' by certain charming classmates. (Could they possibly be jealous that she knows the boy in question? Surely not!)

'But,' said the actor, in honest perplexity, 'she is really not fat.'

'"Fat" is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her,' I said; I could remember it happening when I was at school, and witnessing it among the teenagers I used to teach. Nevertheless, I could see that to him, a well-adjusted male, it was utterly bizarre behaviour, like yelling 'thicko!' at Stephen Hawking.

His bemusement at this everyday feature of female existence reminded me how strange and sick the 'fat' insult is. I mean, is 'fat' really the worst thing a human being can be? Is 'fat' worse than 'vindictive', 'jealous', 'shallow', 'vain', 'boring' or 'cruel'? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I'm not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain...

I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn't seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? 'You've lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!'

'Well,' I said, slightly nonplussed, 'the last time you saw me I'd just had a baby.'

What I felt like saying was, 'I've produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren't either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?' But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!

So the issue of size and women was (ha, ha) weighing on my mind as I flew home to Edinburgh the next day. Once up in the air, I opened a newspaper and my eyes fell, immediately, on an article about the pop star Pink.

Her latest single, 'Stupid Girls', is the antidote-anthem for everything I had been thinking about women and thinness. 'Stupid Girls' satirises the talking toothpicks held up to girls as role models: those celebrities whose greatest achievement is un-chipped nail polish, whose only aspiration seems to be getting photographed in a different outfit nine times a day, whose only function in the world appears to be supporting the trade in overpriced handbags and rat-sized dogs.

Maybe all this seems funny, or trivial, but it's really not. It's about what girls want to be, what they're told they should be, and how they feel about who they are. I've got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don't want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before 'thin'. And frankly, I'd rather they didn't give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons. Let them never be Stupid Girls. Rant over.

Where's my billion-dollar income?

Thanks to the folks at MyHeritage.com, as well as those at VHI's Best Week Ever who told me about the Web site, I'm now certain that 70 percent of my face looks like J.K. Rowling. In the running: Daryl Hannah, 68 percent; Demi Moore, 66 percent; Glenn Close, 64 percent; Ricki Lake, 62 percent; Jennifer Garner, 59 percent; Jennifer Love Hewitt, 58 percent; Neve Campbell, 57 percent; Debra Winger, 57 percent; and Holly Marie Combs, 57 percent. OK, OK, so I don't look like any of these women, but one can dream.

Funny, yet wrong on so many levels.

(From Sojourners' April Fools Edition) SATIRE: Pentagon investigation clears Cheney of wrongdoing in seal-clubbing incident

Cheney, wearing his custom- tailored seal-clubbing suit, prepares to club a baby seal.

ANCHORAGE, Alaska - Dentist Michael MacKenzie is in serious but stable condition following an accident while on an Alaskan baby seal-clubbing expedition with Vice President Dick Cheney. Cheney was in the process of clubbing a 1-week-old baby harp seal when MacKenzie somehow got in the way, sustaining a concussion, broken jaw, and several missing teeth.

Asked to comment, MacKenzie stated, "Umph schmph fluh shuh buh fuh," as his jaw is wired shut and his mouth stuffed with gauze. In comments scrawled on hospital stationery, he said that he harbors no ill will towards the vice president: "I realize that it's all just part of the sporting risk and giddy thrill of baby seal clubbing. More morphine, please."

A Pentagon investigation into the matter has determined that Cheney did nothing wrong, as his executive office affords him the privilege of ignoring international conventions regarding the clubbing of both seals and dentists. A Pentagon spokesperson also indicated that the vice president overpaid $7 for his baby seal clubbing license, and should seek reimbursement from the state game warden.

Animal rights leaders have expressed outrage; they're very good at it. Seal-clubbing safety experts have also expressed concern.

In response to waves of criticism, Cheney plans to go on FOX "News" in four days and say he's sorry for clubbing his friend but that the Iraq war is an unparalleled success.

Reports have also noted that Cheney has restricted his outdoor sporting companions to members of unpopular professions in order to mute public outcry in the event of an accident. MacKenzie, 65, is a dentist, 78-year-old Harry Whittington, whom Cheney shot in the face with a shotgun earlier this year, is a lawyer, and Ronald DuPre, a campaign donor who was accidentally harpooned while on a dolphin hunting tour earlier this year, is a DMV attendant. Reports indicate that Geoffrey Payton, a parking enforcement officer with whom Cheney had scheduled an outing to go dynamite fishing this June, has since cancelled the trip and moved to an undisclosed location.

Lee delves ‘Inside’ realm of NYC power players

Published March 31, 2006

Going in to any movie helmed by director Spike Lee ensures only one thing: You'll be challenged to think about life's everyday situations more critically than perhaps you had before.

"Inside Man" is more than your average bank-heist caper, with writer Russell Gewirtz and Lee interjecting sharp glimpses of American society and racial tensions still present on every street corner, no matter the neighborhood. In addition to the ever-present racial dialogue normal to Lee, here we examine the corrupting power of wealth, and power in general.

Dalton Russell (Owen) has planned the perfect bank robbery, targeting Manhattan Trust in New York City with a team of three, apparently thinking of every possible flaw to his plan beforehand. His team walks into the bank dressed as painters with hats, sunglasses and fabric covering their faces, taking the customers and workers hostage and waiting for the police to begin negotiations.

Detective Keith Frazier (Washington) is no stranger to negotiating with criminals, and he and his partner Bill Mitchell (Chiwetel Ejiofor) set up camp, working alongside the police and strategizing their next move. Washington himself is no stranger to playing a cop, and here we're treated to his typical genial mannerisms and wit, but not much more.

While Frazier negotiates with Russell, a new problem in the form of Madeline White (Foster) appears at the blocked-off street corner in front of the bank. Madeline's a key power player in New York, though we never know her exact job. Bank owner Arthur Case (Christopher Plummer) contacted her, asking her to use her skills to protect his mysterious belongings kept in one of the bank's safety deposit boxes.

Foster brings a level of class and artistry to her films that most actresses would murder to have. Here, as the powerful Madeline, she never loses her smile and posits her, at times, unethical requests with a serpentine sweetness you know has carried her to her current status.

The story weaves between action inside the bank and future interrogation scenes of the hostages, each one carrying his own story, stereotypes and opinions on how the robbery went. New York City is its own character, an undeniable melting pot of the American Dream. But what are these dreams built on, and more pertinent here, what have those who've risen to power done to achieve them?

Owen is brilliant in anything he does and can command attention on the screen even when concealed behind sunglasses and a mask. Though we don't see as much of him or learn as much about his character, what Dalton does do and say is never without great consideration and purpose. He says it himself in the opening dialogue of the film: You'd better listen to him carefully, because he never repeats himself.

Entertaining and thought provoking, the film dabbles in civics lessons and sociological studies in addition to its thrilling twists and turns. Unlike certain films, like "Crash," which tell you in practically every frame how important and serious it is, "Inside Man" allows the viewer to decide for himself the lessons to be learned.

Though more mainstream than Lee's typical work, "Inside Man" is a smart thriller that asks important questions, which are all too relevant in our present society to be ignored.

Visit rouses questions, not answers

March 29, 2006

Battling sleep deprivation, stress and nerves, I followed members of Soulforce's Equality Ride around Monday, talking one-on-one with several of the riders and attending various forums.

Each hour brought with it more unanswered questions, and when people occasionally asked how my day was going, I probably unnerved them when I relayed my ensuing existential breakdown before moving to the next event.

My confusion probably mirrors many students' with Soulforce's visit producing more questions than answers. Aside from our now-permanent red handprints from self-congratulatory pats on the back on how we handled the situation, th repercussions of this visit are far from over and the journey ahead for the university in regards to its discussions on sexuality remains unclear.

It's easy for a group of straight Christians to come to a conclusion on homosexuality, but when you're looking a gay man, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered person in the eye, you're forced to reconsider the lessons you've been taught.

The most telling conversations during the visit occurred in closed sessions, mainly during small groups' discussions during meals or in invitation-only forums where students were allowed to ask Soulforce members anything they wanted. Yet even these conversations were stilted to a degree, and upon reflection of the day's events, neither ACU nor Soulforce truly engaged in an open dialogue with the other.

Yes, we were nice to them and cared for them. We opened our doors; provided ARAMARK meals, microphones and PowerPoint presentation capabilities; but were we fair to them? Our constant call was to love them as Christ loves us, but how can you love someone without really listening to them? Not hearing -- listening.

We -- ACU and Soulforce -- each entered the arena with our minds made up. We knew where we stood, but avoided turning to scripture for fear of inciting a feud. Those planning the event feared overindoctrinating us, and a point-counterpoint battle about scripture would have served no purpose. Still, the conversation about why we each believe what we do should have been had in a more public venue.

So we stood there, gazing at each other from across the confusing divide, mainly thankful that violence hadn't erupted, but our intellectual dishonesty damaged our chances of making headway on the topic of homosexuality.

When students mingled with the riders in the afternoon in the Hilton Room, many asked questions and listened to the personal stories of the 34 people traveling cross-country to make their point. To say the least, the sight of the various clumps of talking students and Soulforce members was inspiring. But this much honesty could not be found during official meeting times when university representatives spoke, constantly aware of the image they must maintain and the stances from which they were told not to stray.

The conversations must continue, and perhaps the administration will provide more opportunities for students to ask questions openly in a non-threatening environment - a place we can productively delve into scripture, not use it as a trump card to stifle conversation.

Although it's understandable this type of environment can't occur with 4,000 people in a coliseum, more small-group gatherings and forums should be formed to address the issues brought to students' attention because of Soulforce.

Surely there must be a balance between yielding your time on the floor without yielding your position. We haven't found it yet, but we stepped closer to it Monday. Now we just need to start walking.

Remember, Remember, the 5th of November

I thoroughly enjoyed V for Vendetta, and you should all read its review by my friend Dee Travis. It takes a while to get used to watching the character of V on screen, him never taking off his mask and having to use his body language to make up for the loss of using facial expression to convey an emotion. But, even though we can't see his face, I couldn't help picturing the actor behind the mask, Hugo Weaving, throughout the film. I mean, it's Elrond. Or 'that guy from The Matrix.' Still, he's great, and watching the anarchy he initiates was highly entertaining and disturbing all at once. Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture" will never be the same for me again.

i want one.

I'm not sure what chemicals in my brain are triggered when I see this picture of Tai Shan, a panda cub at the National Zoo in Washington, D.C., but I smile, squint my eyes and start making baby noises. Daniel said he saw a show about this reaction on TLC one time, saying that when we see something like this panda, or a baby, or hear one crying, something in our brains clicks and we go into defense-mode, wanting to protect it. All I know is that this panda is freaking cute, so here are more pictures to make you smile this Friday (I'm so cheesy).

S-E-N-I-O-R-I-T-I-S

I'm losing my mind. All spring break while at home, I had the feeling that I had left my apartment unlocked. I had daydreams of my roommate coming home early to find our apartment emptied of its valuables, then calling and yelling at me. I mailed of job applications this week, realizing too little too late that I had a typo on my cover page. I sent jobs for copy editing positions that mentioned looking forward to discussing a reporting internship position at the bottom of my letter. At least I didn't misspell California (Daniel). When I drove back to Abilene today, I missed my turn after Brady and ended up having to double back (because I don't have a map in my car), adding a good 45 minutes to my trip. I have no desire to go to class or do schoolwork and have spent the past few days only caring about rereading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which is still amazing.

All this to say, please don't ask me what I'm doing after graduation, or if I'm still looking, or what I want to be when I grow up, etc. I am fully aware that I need to find a place of employment. So, for now, please think of another conversation starter. If you can't and choose to small talk with me about future plans because you can't think of anything else, then you probably don't know me very well anyways, and I'll just make this easy and say now that I don't feel like talking to you.

Side Note: PAUL ANTHONY: WHERE IS YOUR BLOG? I AM UPSET.

Wikipedia, which helped me not completely fail my Judaism midterm, has a great page about Senioritis. A great excerpt:

Medically speaking, Senioritis is an affective psychological disorder, similar to other affective disorders (depression, anxiety, and in particular attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder). It is not recognized by the American Psychological Association as a distinct illness, but may generally be considered as a combination of attention-deficit disorder and amotivational syndrome.

Senioritis does not affect all people in the same way. While some show apathy, others show mania. In this way, the syndrome can prevent students from performing routine tasks because of the heightened stress associated with preparing for graduation. When taking excessive course loads to fulfill scholastic requirements, many seniors show an inability to find work, control emotional swings, consummate relationships, maintain personal hygiene, etc.

I understand completely.

God's Lovin' It

You need to go and watch this video - The McPassion. I think it's hilarious, but then again, like the filmmakers, people think I'm bitter and blasphemous, too. Here's Terry Mattingly's column explaining it:


WASHINGTON BUREAU: Terry Mattingly's religion column for 3/15/06.

People are supposed to meditate in church, but the epiphany that rocked
filmmaker Rik Swartzwelder two years ago was different.

It started when he visited several churches in Charlotte, N.C., while
visiting family. In service after service he heard preachers telling
people it was their "Christian duty" to rush out and buy a ticket for "The
Passion of the Christ." There were brochures for Mel Gibson's bloody epic
in the bulletins, posters in sanctuary lobbies and preview clips for the
faithful.

Swartzwelder began thinking about the biblical drama in which, as St. Mark
said, "Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold
and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers,
and the seats of them that sold doves; And would not suffer that any man
should carry any vessel through the temple."

So he pounded out a sarcastic -- some would say bitter or blasphemous --
script entitled "The McPassion," a feverish vision of what would happen if
Hollywood and the fast-food industry teamed up to sell Holy Week. The
script sat on a shelf until Swartzwelder decided that Tinseltown's love
affair with born-again marketing was growing instead of fading.

The results have been posted at www.TheMcPassion.com, a 4-minute blast
that opens with chipper children scarfing down their McPassion meals,
complete with a crown of thorns and round fries that the announcer notes
are "shaped just like the Eucharist." Then there's the McLast Supper from
Burger King of Kings or the McLoaves and Fish Sticks dinner (all you can
eat, while supplies last). The meals come with toys, like the pretend
stigmata tattoos, a simulated leather cat of nine tails, Shroud of Turin
towelettes, a kid-sized crucifix and the "cool McPassion hammer."

The pitch ends with this call to commerce: "Buy one today! Make Jesus
happy! ... Alleluia, God's lovin' it!"

None of this is terribly subtle.

"I want people to wince," said Swartzwelder. "I wince when the girl says
that dipping the body of Christ in ketchup is fun. I wince when the boy
hits the girl's palm with the toy hammer and you hear that clink, clink
sound."

The goal was to inspire heated discussions and Swartzwelder and director
Benjamin Hershleder were more than willing to infuriate many Christian
viewers in order to get their point across. The result was an online
firestorm that has been both painful and gratifying.

"I keep reminding people that I am a Christian and that, if they really
want to know, I am a big fan of what I thought was a courageous movie by
Mel Gibson," said Swartzwelder, a freelance filmmaker in Burbank, Calif.
He is best known as the creator of "The Least of These," a short film
released in 2002 that won 27 awards and played at mainstream and religious
film festivals around the world.

The Emmy Award-winner stressed that he is glad that "The Passion" rang up
$370 million at the U.S. box office, opening doors for more artists to
make more films -- From "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" to "The End of the
Spear" -- that can tap into a faith-friendly marketplace out in Middle
America. As an admirer of Christian apologist C.S. Lewis, he is glad that
the "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" is
rising toward $290 million in U.S. ticket sales.

Swartzwelder is even pleased that many evangelicals, after decades of
merely throwing stones at Hollywood, are now seeking positive ways to
engage the world of entertainment.

The problem, he said, is that some religious leaders have allowed movie
publicity campaigns to bleed out of the marketplace and into the church
sanctuaries that are supposed to be safe havens for vulnerable souls.

"At some point we have to ask: What is the purpose of worship? What is the
purpose of the pulpit?", asked Swartzwelder, who also has led filmmaking
workshops at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Mich.

"Even with the best of intentions, using the pulpit to push movies -- even
good ones -- is dangerous. And what happens when we start seeing more
people making more movies for this audience? How do we decide which movies
to plug? There could be, no there will be, abuses and that's going to lead
us into murky waters."

so much free time on my hands

Sarah -- [adjective]: Pretentiously academian 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Chappelle, Brooklyn, throw 'Party' to remember

Published March 10, 2006
The Optimist

On a September day in 2004, residents from neighborhoods in Brooklyn, N.Y., and Dayton, Ohio, experienced "the greatest single day" of comedian Dave Chappelle's career.

Using his celebrity connections with major rap, hip hop and soul artists, Chappelle gathered his performer friends together to treat a corner of Brooklyn to its own block party, documented in the appropriately named "Dave Chappelle's Block Party" - a testament to the power of music and, as cliché as it is, the American dream.

The documentary/concert film begins with a scene of a Brooklyn bystander whose car won't start. Chappelle has been roaming the streets the day before the concert with a bullhorn announcing the party, and he and his crew film the interaction of the bystander and another man trying to help him start his car.

Next, we travel back two days to Chappelle's hometown of Dayton, Ohio, where he, again, roams the streets, announcing his concert and passing out golden tickets for random residents to travel by bus to Brooklyn for the free show. All types of people agree to come, from young black kids who worship Chappelle because of his Comedy Central show, or older white grandmothers who see him around town and just think he's funny.

It's after seeing the sequences in Dayton that the opening car repair scene makes sense. Chappelle is trying to show real people in real settings, ultimately bringing them all together for a concert, transcending the boundaries of race or social class for the sake of entertainment.

That summary may be slightly bloated. Chappelle's intentions aren't to change the world, just to deliver a great night of music to a variety of people. Still, through his endeavors, he manages to deliver an entertaining glimpse into the lives of the artists performing and those lucky enough to come along for the ride.

The highlights of the show come from Kanye West, Mos Def, The Roots, John Legend, Erykah Baduh, Jill Scott and, reunited for the first time in seven years, the Fugees. Even if you're not into rap or hip hop, watching the performances intertwined with backstage encounters and Chappelle's comedy is sure to have you smiling and wishing you had been there.

A highlight of the film comes from the marching band at Ohio Central State University, a group that's invited by Chappelle to join the caravan of charter buses from Ohio to New York to open the party. The students are star-struck and are thrilled to perform "Jesus Walks" alongside Kanye West, and to talk with Wyclef Jean of the Fugees about their futures.

Jean talks with the students, all of whom are black, about how lucky they are to have the opportunity to have an education and that they shouldn't blame society or any other race for problems in their life. They have a say in their future, and they should make it the best they can. All are wide-eyed and encouraged, having heard what really is the heart of the film: taking advantage of opportunities and following your dreams.

The neighborhood Chappelle selects for the block party is an area of Brooklyn where several famous rappers were raised, from Jay-Z to Mos Def to Biggie Smalls. The artists were fortunate enough to strike it big, becoming successful in their fields but not forgetting their roots. Informal interviews with the stars are interspersed throughout, providing a glimpse into who they are, where they came from and the struggles it took to achieve success.

"Block Party" wouldn't be a Chappelle production if it didn't contain the comedian's biting wit, killer timing and jokes about sensitive subjects, such as racism and the barrier between social classes. He comments about the disparity between certain neighborhoods in Brooklyn, how one street looks like "The Cosby Show" coming back from a commercial break, while a street next to it looks more like "Good Times." The jabs aren't bitter or in bad taste, though, just honest.

"Dave Chappelle's Block Party" is a great return for the comedian, who left his cable show and a $50 million contract in 2004 to visit Africa and clear his head. The talent of Chappelle and all the artists is undeniable, and music fans shouldn't be disappointed. We can only hope that Chappelle decides to return to the mainstream in some way or another, continuing to push the envelope but, most importantly, entertain us.

OH! Now I understand why people get into car wrecks. It's because we're racist...

“And finally, I would say that, you know, we are a little bit out of touch in Hollywood every once in a while, I think. It’s probably a good thing. Uhm, we’re the ones who talk[ed] about AIDS when it was just being whispered. And we talked about civil rights when it wasn’t really popular. And we, uh, you know, we bring up subjects … we are the ones … this Academy, this group of people gave Hattie McDaniel an Oscar in 1939 when blacks were still sitting in the backs of theaters. I’m proud to be a part of this Academy. I’m proud to be part of this community. I’m proud to be out of touch. And I thank you so much for this.” - George Clooney, accepting his Best Supporting Actor Oscar for Syriana

Best acceptance speech from the night.

Alright, Alright. I admit my defeat to my brother. But don't expect any cash or checks in the mail, Daniel. My continued friendship is your reward.

Words can't express how dissapointed I am that Crash won. I watched it for the first time Saturday night and at the end, when the camera pans up to the Los Angeles skyline and fake snow falls, I said "You're kidding me. It can't be over," out loud in my apartment. Granted, it has a few shocking moments, but no substance to justify them or explain them. It was interesting, but Crash was in no way of the same caliber of Brokeback Mountain, Capote, Good Night, and Good Luck, or Munich. Come to think of it, Speilberg's Munich was jipped at this year's award shows. Oh well. I'm going to pretend it didn't happen.

"In popular culture, things are getting worse. You know, I can give you -- I could sit here and give you examples all day. Let me just give you this example, and this is a controversial example. This gay cowboy movie -- and it's going to win, you know, a lot of awards all over, and they're -- the media is pushing this like crazy." - Bill O'Reilly

While some are complaining that Hollywood's "liberal" agenda led to the serious and controversial Best Picture Oscar nominees, they'd should first step back and consider whether any film that had more mild or family-friendly content was as well-executed or on the same par as the nominees. Sure, you might have liked End of the Spear - though I can't imagine why - but you must admit that technically, it sucked. If conservatives are so angry about this so-called agenda of a business almost purely in it for the money, then maybe they should venture into the business themselves or support filmmakers with their values. All the Best Picture nominees deal with pertinent cultural issues in our society. These issues are everywhere - in our churches, schools, work places and in the news. Shouldn't we be discussing homosexuality, the role of the media, the role of politicians, and terrorism in our art? Or is it because the conclusions the the artists come to don't line up with what the conclusions of the conservatives, hence the latter's anger? Can you really not learn anything from one of these movies, even if you don't completely agree with all the subject matter? Quit whining that Hollywood doesn't follow mainstream American "values." Get off your keister and do something about it yourself.

Now, for the Oscar picks. My brother and I are having a competition, though I haven't chosen winners from quite as many categories, and a lot of our picks are the same. If I win, I get a new video iPod. If he wins, he gets bragging rights. Sounds fair.

Best Picture: Brokeback Mountain
Best Director: Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain
Best Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Best Actress: Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line
Best Supporting Actor: George Clooney, Syriana
Best Supporting Actress: Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener
Best Adapted Screenplay: Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, Brokeback Mountain
Best Original Screenplay:
My pick: Noah Baumbach for The Squid and the Whale.
Who will probably win: Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, Crash
Best Original Score:
My pick: Dario Marianelli, Pride & Prejudice
Who will probably win: John Williams, Memoirs of a Geisha
Best Original Song: "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp," Hustle and Flow
Best Animated Film: Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
Best Foreign-Language Film: Paradise Now, Palestine
Best Visual Effects: King Kong
Best Cinematography:
My pick: Robert Elswit, Good Night, and Good Luck
Who will probably win: Rodrigo Prieto, Brokeback Mountain
Best Costume Design: Colleen Atwood, Memoirs of a Geisha
Best Film Editing: Claire Simpson, The Constant Gardener
Best Makeup: Howard Berger and Tami Lane, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
Best Art Direction: Jim Bissell and Jan Pascale, Good Night, and Good Luck
Best Documentary Feature: March of the Penguins
Best Documentar Short Subject: God Sleeps in Rwanda
Best Sound Editing: Mike Hopkins and Ethan Van der Ryn, King Kong
Best Sound Mixing: Paul Massey, D.M. Hemphill and Peter F. Kurland, Walk the Line

Fast Times at Hogwarts High

Oh, Hermione.

For all we know, this could be a studio still from the set of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which features a scene dealing with the unpleasant—but all too common—realities of underage drinking, in which the young wizards get s***faced on butterbeer and draw genitals on Ron Weasley’s face with their wands after he passes out. Read more at the Defamer's post.

But, for your ultimate viewing pleasure, please, please click on this link and enjoy pictures of Emma Watson drinking with Jimmy Buffet playing in the background.

i actually made this issue's comic

That's me on the left. Good times.

If Gwyneth can wear Birkenstocks, I can wear Birkenstocks.

If I could be anyone else in the world, I'd be Gwyneth Paltrow. 1) She's talented; 2) She's married to Chris Martin; 3) She's beautiful; 4) She's won an Oscar; 5) She's married to Chris Martin; 6) She has a great sense of fashion; and 7) Chris Martin is the father of her children.

The Coldplay concert last night in Dallas was amazing, and words can't really express how I felt during several of their songs, such as The Scientist, Fix You, Little White Shadows, Clocks, In My Place, Swallowed in the Sea, Till Kingdom Come, a cover of Ring of Fire, etc. Some members of the audience were just sitting there, relaxing and taking in the show as if there were sitting at home watching them on TV. I say that if they have come all the way from England to put on a good show and give us their all, then it is our responsibility as fans to give our all to them in return. I sang every word to every song and am surprised I still have a voice. Concerts aren't what they used to be, I imagine, back before the days of MTV and iPods when concerts where the main way to see your favorite bands perform. I still enjoyed myself and hopefully didn't annoy too many people behind me by standing up the entire time.

ID does not belong in science class

I didn't post this earlier, mainly because I don't like a lot of it. But, having received compliments on it from a theologian and a physicist today, both of whom I respect, I'm considering that I might have been too hard on myself. I still don't love it though, but here it is anyways:

Published in Feb. 21 Optimist


No one has ever seen an electron swirling around the nucleus of an atom. Still, we all take quantum mechanics for granted and accept the scientifically proven electron as fact.

This assurance can't be given to Intelligent Design, the latest so-called theory that has slowly crept into the nation's public schoolrooms.

The battle of whether Intelligent Design, a new form of creationism, should be taught in public science classrooms is nonsensical. The pseudoscientific conjecture has no business being taught alongside what can be proven scientifically: evolution.

Intelligent Design conjectures that the account for living organisms is so complex, a supernatural entity must have been behind the formation. Most proponents of this conjecture, who claim it's a theory, do not necessarily want it to replace evolution in classrooms, but rather they want evolution highly scrutinized.

Intelligent Design plays to the commonly used meaning of "theory," which is a hunch or a guess. However, the scientific definition of theory is different. A theory in science can be experimented on and tested. True, the work of The Origin of Species author Charles Darwin leaves questions unanswered, but almost 150 years of scientific research and discovery rests in his corner. Theological questions spurred by the evolution debate are best fought in theology classes.

Christians should not be afraid for their children to sit through a class about evolution, whether out of fear it might hinder the child's faith or because they find the notion altogether beneath them.

Parents should not be afraid their children will doubt creation if they learn about evolution. Even if they begin to doubt, questioning one's faith is paramount to building a stronger faith. Learning about the other side of the debate is key to forming a more solid opinion.

I don't remember when I was taught evolution in middle or high school. The topic was likely discussed in 9th grade biology; but, having grown up in a Christian household, I learned about the theory of evolution while still holding on to my belief in a Creator God.

Students should learn about the realities and complexities of the world and how science, based on facts, helps explains these phenomena. Let them explore the issues and come to their own conclusions on whether a higher power must have been involved in the creation of the earth.

Intelligent Design followers discredit God by refusing to question him or by thinking his works far too complex to figure out. A line exists where one has to decide to believe in God or not, but the line for everyone is different.

Whether we are standing on top of a mountain, watching a loved one give birth or coming to terms with death, as humans we all examine our existence and find our own answers. Some of the greatest discoveries have spurred from man's desire to understand his creator and explore the seemingly unexplainable.

The debate between evolution vs. creation, or evolution vs. Intelligent Design, should continue, but it is not a scientific debate - it's a theological debate. Thus, it should be carried out in a theological venue and not the public school classroom.

The complexities of life have dumbfounded man from his beginning, whether he believes he came from a monkey or the breath of God. This debate should exist in a free and open marketplace of ideas.

After all, what creation is more beautiful, and more necessary now, than the art of speech and expression?