Based on Richard Matheson’s short story Button, Button, The Box stars Cameron Diaz and James Marsden as Norma and Arthur Lewis.  The Lewis’ are an upper middleclass couple; she’s an English teacher at an upscale prep school while he works at NASA with hopes of entering their astronaut program.  However, their idyllic live begins to unravel when he is passed over as a potential astronaut and she is informed that faculty members will no longer receive discounted tuition for their children.  In the midst of this upheaval they are presented with an unusual opportunity.  A man arrives on their doorstep with a box and an offer.  The box is nothing more than that; a wood box with a button on top.  Press the button and receive a million dollars.  Oh, but there is one caveat: someone somewhere, whom you don’t know, will die.  Will they press the button? Will they not press the button?  At the risk of revealing too much, one of those choices would make for an extremely anticlimactic (not to mention brief) film going experience, now wouldn’t it?  [morelink]

As the Lewis’ begin to investigate Arlington Steward (Frank Langella), the man who extended the offer, they begin to realize that they’re caught up in something larger than they had ever imagined.  The movie is based on a short story which becomes problematic.  The first half-hour is somewhat promising (despite the fact that Diaz chose to adopt a Southern accent that makes her sound like an escaped understudy from a community theater production of Steel Magnolias).  The first thirty minutes follows the original story’s plot points; with the exception of a slight tweak to the ending similar to the version that aired in the 1980’s version of The Twilight Zone.  However, the filmmakers decided to not leave well enough alone.  Since the original story can’t reasonably be stretched to feature length, they’ve fleshed out the back-story in order to explain the motivation and machinations of Stewards’ offer.  But much of the original's charm is due precisely to the lack of information.  No details were ever given as to why Steward is making this offer or how it works.  Like all good Twilight Zone episodes, it ended with a nice little twist and left the viewers with enough answers to be satisfying but enough questions to keep them thinking.

Is there any answer that could be given as to why or how this works that would be gratifying?  If this film is any indication, the answer is a resounding “no.”  Without revealing too much about Steward, suffice it to say that the answer is both ludicrous and (from a sci-fi/fantasy standpoint) rather routine; a dues ex machina that is as maddening as it is mundane.  Steward has an army of people able to monitor the Lewis’ every movie and the movie quickly devolves into a poor-man’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  The Box is set in 1976 for no apparent reason beyond showing clips of ‘70s era sitcoms.  And you know a movie is in trouble when you wish they’d go back to showing you an Alice rerun.  It’s the sort of movie where people arrive on a hero’s doorstep frantically offering to help…but only with cryptically worded messages that inevitably do more harm than good.  After all, why say, “Hey, that guy’s gonna kill you” when you can just as easily say, “The crow flies at midnight?”  We’ve got two hours to fill here people.

I will give the film credit for not copping out.  It creates dark choices (no spoilers, I haven’t even approached mentioning them here) and never backs away from them.  The film has fairly nihilistic tone and makes absolutely no effort to graft on a Hollywood ending.  I think Rod Serling would actually be fairly happy with the beginning and the ending…it’s all that stuff in the middle that he’d want to fix.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Indecent Proposal (really? Indecent Proposal?  A “10”?  Sure, why not?) and 1 being Saw V, The Box gets a 5.

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Directed by Robert Zemeckis the film marks his third consecutive directorial effort using motion capture animation (the previous two being Beowulf and The Polar Express).   This film illustrates that Zemeckis is getting quite adept with the new technology.  The creepy emotionless expressions of The Polar Express are all but gone and he’s become comfortable enough with motion capture that he no longer feels compelled to overwhelm our senses with every frame of footage.  That’s not to say the film doesn’t utilize the technology effectively.  The film opens with a dizzying tracking shot above and through the streets of 19^th century London, going places (and getting there) in ways that no normal camera ever could.  And the Victorian England that we so often associate with Christmas has been painstakingly recreated in detail so meticulous it would make any historian proud.  There were times when I wished we could pause the film merely so we could take a walking tour through the snow-covered streets of a bygone era.  One of my biggest complaints about the recent spate of 3D movies is that the glasses required to render the effect inevitably end up reducing the brightness of the colors.  This film is no exception.  However, Victorian England was a dark place.  The Industrial Revolution was in full-swing and air pollution was rampant.  Plus, electric lighting did not yet exist; most illumination was created via lamps and candles.  Therefore, the film comes by its darkness honestly.  It’s more a commitment to historical accuracy than it is a byproduct of 3D glasses.

I’ve never been much of a fan of Carrey.  I typically find his performances too manic.  Ironically, being animated seems to have toned down his…well, animation.  He’s, thankfully, not his usual blend of exaggerated expressions and hyperactive tics.  Instead, his take on Scrooge is a bit more nuanced.  Granted, it’s difficult to humanize a character whose very name has literally become a synonym for a miserly killjoy.  But he manages to humanize the character more than expected.  If only the people behind motion capture would jettison the gimmick of having one actor play multiple parts.  Carrey plays EIGHT different characters: Scrooge, Ghost of Christmas Past, Ghost of Christmas Present, Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come, Scrooge as a young boy, Scrooge as a young man and Scrooge as a middle-age man.  While it’s interesting that the technology allows one actor to play the same character at various ages, seeing one actor as multiple characters generally feels hokey. 

Zemeckis is credited with the screenplay but, given how much of the dialog is lifted directly from the book, I believe the film could just as easily credit “Cut” and “Paste.”  And I mean that in a good way.  The story itself is surprisingly, remarkably, blessedly faithful to its source material.  Hard as it is to believe, this could quite possibly be the most faithful retelling of the story ever brought to the screen.  While the commercials go to great lengths in order to make the film appear to be an action-packed comedy, the moments featured have been cherry-picked to make the movie seem a bit more kid-friendly than it actually is.  This is not a kid’s movie.  It’s not that there’s anything “inappropriate” in the movie.  But it’s a dark film both literally (as mentioned above) and figuratively.  The ghost of Jacob Marley (Gary Oldman), Scrooge’s former business partner, is rendered as the rotting the corpse he is (though he mercifully appears to be in the earlier stages of decomposition rather than later stages that he should actually be in).  The film is a ghost story and it never strays too far afield from that premise.  This fact, combined with some Dickensian dialog that can be a bit stilted (not to mention a touch arcane) when being said aloud, might make the film problematic for some younger and/or less than patient filmgoers.  But beyond that, A Christmas Carol is that rare thing: a Christmas movie we might still be watching in twenty years.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Scrooge and 1 being An All Dogs Christmas Carol, A Christmas Carol gets an 8.

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The film follows two tracks: the present, where Bob follows Lyn on his “top secret” mission into Iraq, and the past, which consists of a series of flashbacks in which we see how this group of “Jedi Warriors” was assembled. The team was the brainchild of Bill Django (Jeff Bridges channeling “The Dude’s” warmongering doppelganger). He referred to them as the New Earth Army and incorporated as much hippie/new age hocus-pocus into their training as he could. The film shows us just enough to keep us guessing as to whether the New Earth Army is actually mastering their powers or merely occasionally getting lucky.

While it aims to be a cutting political satire, the picture is ultimately a one-joke premise: let’s laugh at conservative, uptight soldiers acting like the hippies they hate in order exploit “flower power” for militaristic gain. And don’t get me wrong, there are some laughs within that premise. But it tends to lose its effectiveness after being repeated ad nauseum for ninety minutes. The filmmakers treat the Army with derision for wanting to utilize the more metaphysical aspects of the peace movement in an effort to wage war. And there is a certain level of hypocrisy there, I suppose. But the movie’s sanctimonious, anti-military arrogance belies a hypocrisy all its own. It asks the audience to believe that the paranormal is possible while repeatedly ridiculing the government for doing the same. The implication being that they aren’t mocking the belief in the mystical but the motivations for said believe. It’s a subtle but important distinction…and kind of a snotty one.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Dr. Strangelove and 1 being Firestarter 2: Rekindled, The Men Who Stare at Goats gets a 5.

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As Tyler investigates further, she begins to believe (with the help of her murdered husband’s research) that aliens are afoot. (Spacemen not foreigners.) Nome, after all, has the highest per capita rate of disappearances and unsolved deaths according to the film. Let’s see…people are routinely going missing in a desolate frozen-tundra with a population of less than 10,000 and one of the highest rates of alcoholism in the United States…I think everyone’s first thought is alien abduction, really. As if aliens are smart enough to master interstellar travel but dumb enough to continually abduct subjects from a town with a population smaller than the average Nickelback concert.

Of course, none of this be would so frustrating if the film weren’t so adamant about all of this being true. The film desperately wants to be The Blair Witch Project of alien movies. It’s full of twisty/bendy head fakes - actors breaking the fourth wall, video that is alleged to be true, the director (Olatunde Osunsanmi) playing himself on screen - each element carefully chosen to heighten the realism and ratchet up the tension. But instead of immersing you in the story, it pulls you out. It wants you to believe, if only for a second, that this is all happened. But none of it rings true. Many characters are given aliases in order to protect their true “identities” (and, one would presume, to prevent debunking the entire film with a simple Google search). But the film reveals so much ancillary information about its characters that a mere name change would do little good in obfuscating their real names. The video footage all comes emblazoned with a time/date stamp and the movie takes great pains to let us know that we’re in Nome, Alaska. So if we know the year and the location, does changing the name of the town’s sheriff really protect his privacy? And how many Black Sumerian language professors (Hakeem Kae-Kazim) working at a “prestigious Canadian university” could there be? No, aliases aren’t provided to protect identities, they’re provided to create the appearance of protecting identities. This way it all looks more “real.”

In the end, all we’re left with is grainy, pixilated (you know…to protect their identities) camcorder footage and a few cheap scares on par with your kid brother jumping out from behind a door. It quickly becomes evident that this “archival footage” serves two purposes: to create the illusion of authenticity and, more importantly, to save the filmmakers the cost and trouble of creating believable special effects. The Fourth Kind is lazy, derivative and disingenuous.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Close Encounters of the Third Kind and 1 being Erotic Encounters of the Fourth Kind, The Fourth Kind gets a 3.

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Tube Talk

Kate Gosselin turned on the water works in a TLC special titled Kate: Her Story. The multiples' mama admitted she misses having Jon around and tore through an entire box of tissues in less than an hour.

Country crooner Jessica Simpson opened a can on Melrose Place producers this week. The singer tweeted her disdain for the show and hinted her sister's firing was an ill-advised move.

Star Gazing

Verne Troyer got a mouthful of pavement as TMZ's cameras rolled. Mini Me's known for hitting the bottle on occasion, and the fall suggests he's far from on the wagon...in fact, the wagon's nowhere in sight.

American Idol host Ryan Seacrest is breathing a sigh of relief after cops threw his alleged stalker behind bars. Authorities say Chidi Uzomah Jr. stormed into E's offices, knife in hand, demanding to speak with the Idol host. For some reason, he's in jail now, awaiting trial on stalking charges.

Reel World

The Box hits theaters and Warner Brothers promises the movie is better than the title. Cameron Diaz stars as a woman given a box that contains a button that, when pushed, simultaneously kills a stranger and gives her a million dollars.

The reigning king of physical comedy, Jim Carrey, stars in A Christmas Carol. This animated take on the timeless holiday story comes our way courtesy of Disney, who worked their star overtime, as Mr. Carrey voiced eight characters in the film.

That, and plenty more, awaits. Simply watch the video and pass it along when you're finished.

Can you go to Hell for seeing a movie?  If so, it’s too late for me but you still have a chance.  Written and directed by Lars von Trier, Antichrist is the most perplexing movie I’ve ever seen, let alone reviewed.  Visually stunning yet repulsive to watch; psychologically intense yet morally reprehensible; a spectacular cinematic achievement that quite possibly should be seen by no one.  The film tells the story of He (Willem Dafoe) and She (Charlotte Gainsbourg).  (You know you’re in highbrow “art house” territory when the characters’ names are pronouns.)  They are a married couple; he’s a psychologist, she’s an author.   In the opening scene, their toddler dies as a result of their inattention whilst engaged in “marital relations.”  The scene is beautifully filmed, bathed in blue light and perfectly edited to the strains of 'Lascia ch'io pianga' from 'Rinaldo' and climaxes (both literally and figuratively) in the death of their child.  Hang on to your hats, folks…this is as “cheery” as it’s gonna get.  [morelink]

He, being a psychologist, convinces his wife to eschew the antidepressants prescribed by her medical doctors.  Instead, he will be her grief counselor even though he knows that no self-respecting professional would ever attempt to provide guidance to a family member.   He begins an intense round mental masochism, forcing her to discuss and relive the loss of her child.  Eventually he reaches the conclusion that they should continue these “sessions” in an isolated cabin, a locale where she once spent the summer alone with their child while she was writing her thesis on historical crimes against women.  Upon arriving, things hurriedly begin to devolve.  As her erratic, and increasingly violent, actions escalate, He begins to suspect that there is more wrong with She than simply grief.

While the film has nothing to do the “antichrist” in a literal sense, it’s most certainly a horror film.  However, unlike most horror films, this one focuses as much on the psychological as it does on the physiological.  Von Trier creates a sense of overwhelming dread and devastating foreboding that’s almost palpable.  The film’s sense of desolation and despair is unrelenting.  The characters’ (and the audiences’) psyche is battered and bruised long before the film’s brutality becomes bodily. 

While the entire film is psychologically exhausting, von Trier ups the ante in the final third by escalating the violence.  In short succession the film subjects us to three graphic, realistically photographed acts of extreme carnage; two of which were easily the most revolting things I’ve ever witnessed in a mainstream film.  Images so disgustingly vile that it caused me to do something I haven’t done at the movies since I was a child: I closed my eyes.  The scenes in question are so nauseating that they would be rejected as album cover artwork for most “death metal” bands.  There are things in this movie that make Saw look like Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein.  It is extraordinarily explicit, both in terms of violence and sexuality.  The film merges sex and bloodshed and chronicles them in an unambiguous way that is typically only seen in pornography.  While I wouldn’t classify the scenes as pornography per se, the case could certainly be made; and never has the line been thinner.

I won’t be giving this film a number like I usually do.  Antichrist is polarizing and deliberately so.  Its purpose is to shock and divide.  It wants to photograph depravity beautifully and then repulse us with the juxtaposition.  I’m a big believer in judging a film on what it’s attempting to do.  It’s unfair, not to mention counterproductive, to hold Caddyshack to the same standards as Citizen Kane when they’re trying to achieve two separate things.  Using that logic, Antichrist is an unmitigated success.  It accomplished what it wanted to…but so do snuff films.  That doesn’t mean you should go see one.

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Tube Talk

Kate Gosselin fielded softball questions on TLC's You Ask, Kate Answers special. Though some speculated the episode would mark the end of the series, the network has now confirmed it has enough footage to push the end date back to November 23.

ESPN employees have done their share of offending lately. First, Steve Phillips shagged a production assistant and got the boot for doing so. Then, Bob Griese unleashed a Mexican stereotype while promoting a NASCAR program. Anyone else left to offend?...Asians, maybe?

Reel World

Michael Jackson's This Is It has hit theaters and we have a peek. The film details the pop star's final rehearsal sessions, giving audiences a look into what MJ's ill-fated London concert series may have been like.

If endless violence is more your style, Boondock Saints Two has you covered. The MacManus brothers are back at it, unleashing their own brand of justice on anyone that makes the mistake of crossing them. Dexter's Julie Benz adds support, so that's reason enough to buy a ticket.

Star Gazing

Twitter has made enemies of Chris Brown and Perez Hilton. Chris
lamented the loss of his girlfriend on the time-killing site, only to be called out by Perez Hilton for doing so. The argument got as heated as a Twitter argument can get, and we have the tweets.

Besides sporting a neatly-trimmed beard and hanging out in a coffin, what can one do to look like Billy Mays? If you have the answer, a tub of OxiClean may be yours! Billy's son announced via his website he's holding a contest to find out who looks the most like his late pops...check it out.

That, and plenty more, awaits. Simply watch the video and pass it along when you're finished.

Since the film is constructed from rehearsal footage, no effort is made toward continuity, nor could there be.  Jackson is seen in multiple outfits during each “performance.”  They used the best available vocal track, so sometimes the lip-synching is a little out of phase.  What’s most remarkable is how healthy he looks.  Jackson appears thin but not frail.  He’s singing abilities are most definitely intact and he still possesses all but his most strenuous dance moves.  And, unlike most singer/dancers of today, he apparently had no intention of lip-synching or “singing to track,” a process in which a performer sings along with a prerecorded vocal track in the event they need to catch their breath.  There is the occasional missed word or forgotten line, this is rehearsal after all, but not once do we hear a “guide track” pick up the slack.  Due to his sudden and unexpected death, the film will no doubt be examined for “clues” frame-by-frame, like the Zapruder film or a celebrity sex tape.  But on a first pass, I saw nothing but a man of extraordinary talent who appeared to be building quite possibly the greatest pop concert of all time. 

While the concert tour was felt by many to be a cash-grab by a bankrupt, fading superstar (and, yes, you can put me in that camp); that’s clearly not the show he was constructing.  While he could have allowed the younger dancers to do the heavy lifting while he belted out the hits, he clearly had no intention of doing so.  This show was to be an amazingly choreographed, high-energy spectacle with stunning set pieces.  The promoters had allegedly spent $30 million just on concert production in what was to have been the most expensive arena shows in history.  And you can see every nickel of it on that stage.  Yet even with all the over-the-top set pieces some of the most enthralling moments are simply Jackson on-stage, working out a number.  Jackson had spent so many years as fodder for either headlines or punch lines that it’s easy to forget just why he was a star.  This film will remind you.

Even before his controversies, I never considered myself a fan.  While he’s astonishingly talented, I’m more of “rock” guy.  But This Is It stands as a testament to the man’s gifts.  Ortega presents us with a Jackson that the public rarely saw: normal.  (Or as normal as any celebrity of his magnitude could be.)  He was noticeably hands-on with the concert’s creations.  And every suggestion he makes or change that he calls for improves the show.  He’s not being weird for the sake of weirdness, as is so often thought of him.  He’s not asking to be flown in on a llama or wear a hat made out of cheese.  He wants to hold for an extra beat or make a bass line a little “funkier”…you know, the sort of things a responsible artist would do. 

However, as the film progresses some of the numbers become decidedly less ambitious.  Had he bitten off more than he could chew?  Or did he simply need some “cool down” numbers in order to catch his breath?  My guess would be a little from column “A” and a little from column “B.”  But there are wonderful sequences filmed to be shown during his live performances.  He is digitally inserted into old Warner Brothers gangster films for “Smooth Criminal,” where he is seen shooting it out with Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney.  And there’s new footage filmed for what would have been a 3D “Thriller” segment.  It’s a spectacular scene that serves as both an homage to the original and, interestingly, to Walt Disney World’s Haunted Mansion. 

The film does drag a bit towards the end, especially an overly long portion devoted to “Earth Song.”  (Though admittedly, it was huge hit in England, where the tour was to have begun.)  Ultimately, the film is a monument to one man’s talent.  (I’ll leave the discussion as to whether he deserves a monument for another day.)  It’s a rousing film-going experience that will have audiences applauding after each number, all but forgetting that they’re even in a movie theater.  If this was the rehearsal footage…good God, what would the actual concerts have been like?

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being The Last Waltz and 1 being The Brady Bunch Variety Hour, This Is It gets a 9.

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I don’t think I’ve seen a movie position itself for a sequel this unabashedly since Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins (that’s their subtitle, by the way).  The movie spends so much time attempting to create a franchise that it forgets to create an interesting film.  Characters come and go: Mr. Tall (Ken Watanabe), Madame Truska (Salma Hayek), Alexander Ribs (Orlando Jones), Gavner Purl (Willem Dafoe), Corma Limbs (Jane Krakowski).  Judging by the casting, they’re clearly meant to be of some importance further down the line.  But all we get here are head-scratching cameos that leave us wondering why such well known actors were only given five lines of dialog.   The entire movie feels like ninety-minutes of prologue.  

There are a few moments that show us what might have been.  Vampires in this world don’t kill; they merely knock their victims unconscious and take a sip.  (Apparently even the undead have “gone green” and now find themselves concerned with “sustainability”.)  Of course, this is merely a plot device designed to allow viewers to like vampires.  But it does present a somewhat interesting take on the genre as Vampires are locked in battle with “Vampanese”, vampires who are still willing to kill in order to feed.  I have no idea why the non-killing offshoots were allowed to keep the name “vampire” though.  That’d be like Meadowlark Lemon leaving the Harlem Globetrotters and taking the name with him.  Nevertheless, it at least adds a new wrinkle vampire lore.

If the film has one redeeming quality, it’s the performance of John C. Reilly.  He gives the character of Crepsley a tired, world-weary delivery that accounts for every laugh that the film manages to muster (not counting the substandard special effects, that is).  Crepsley, as a vampire, is very much aware of what people perceive vampires to be.  His level of self-awareness was played to great comic effect and left me wishing he was in a different/better movie. 

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Dracula (1931) and 1 being Dracula: Dead and Loving It, Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant gets a 4.

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Biographical works that focus on Walt Disney inevitably become Faustian in nature.  The Walt Disney Company and the Disney family maintain a tight grip on any and all archival materials as they relate to Walt.  Therefore if a filmmaker wants access to the materials necessary to craft a story, he or she must tell a tale that the Disney gatekeepers deem worthy of telling (and tell it in a fashion that won’t bring derision upon the family name).  Over the years, Walt has become as much of a corporate mascot as Mickey Mouse.  So protecting his image is of the utmost importance.  The end result is that virtually anything short of the canonization of Walt is met with a complete lack of cooperation from those who control the Disney archives.  They’re anal about their annals.  The fact that this film was produced by The Walt Disney Family Foundation should give you some idea of the sort of sanitized account that filmgoers are in store for. 

The main problem with the film is that ultimately it’s not a very interesting story.  It’s basically footage of Walt & Co. traveling through South America.  Sure, the expedition resulted in two animated features but the fact that those cartoons are practically footnotes doesn’t do this film any favors.  However, the family archives do come through by providing copious amounts of trip photos, film footage and (most importantly) abundant amounts of artwork that was created on the trip.  The film is well constructed and creatively segues from past photos to present and between various sketches, paintings and drawings.  Unfortunately, none of this is strong enough to make the film feel like much more than watching someone else’s vacation slides.  Granted, they’re extraordinarily well made vacation slides…but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re vacation slides.  And while the film introduces us to each of the Disney employees that make up the group, we’re given little insight as to what their achievements are (or would be) within the Disney pantheon.  Furthermore the film makes little effort to put Walt’s trip into a larger historical context or illustrate its cultural impact on either the countries visited or the one returned to.  My guess would be because there wasn’t much of one. 

Walt & El Grupo is for only the most diehard of Disney aficionados.  And trust me, I mean diehard.  I am a self-proclaimed Disney dork.  My wedding theme was Disney, Mickey and Minnie were our cake topper, we went to Disneyworld on our honeymoon, I’ve been in the utilidors.  And even I was having trouble staying awake.  The film is classic example of filmmakers so close to the subject matter that they’ve lost sight of what made the subject interesting in the first place.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Frank and Ollie and 1 being Back to Enchantment: The Making of Thumbelina, Walt & El Grupo gets a 5.

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Rock, inspired by his own daughters’ desire for “good hair”, takes us on a trip through the hair care industry, from locally owned and operated barber shops and beauty salons to hair product manufacturing plants and to the world’s largest, oldest and most important trade expo: The Bronner Brothers International Hair Show.  Founded in 1947, Bronner Brothers is one of the largest privately held companies to manufacture and sell hair and skin care products for African-Americans.  In 2004 Wal-Mart recognized them as their top vendor of the year.  (So much for only rednecks shopping at Wal-Mart.)  Each year, Bronner Brothers holds their International Hair show where various hairdressers (excuse me…*ahem* hair stylists) compete to be named “Hair Stylist of the Year” in a competition that has more to do with showmanship than haircuts.  This is the weakest element of an otherwise strong film.  All of the contestants are flamboyant characters and there are easy laughs to be found in watching each of them attempt to raise the bar in their surreal game of gaudy one-upmanship.  It’s easy for documentarians to construct a narrative when the film’s subjects are engaged in a competition.  Therefore it’s not difficult to see why they film dedicates so much time to them: it’s easy.  These segments are not without educational (or entertainment) value but ultimately it’s a pool that’s wider than it is deep and the jokes quickly become repetitive.  Luckily, the film spends the bulk of its time on much more interesting (and informative) fare.

Rock interviews numerous Black celebrities, both male and female (though largely female), about the relationship the have with their hair.  It’s interesting to see people who otherwise take pride in their heritage rejecting something as personal as the hair on their head.  Everyone has something about their physical appearance that they’d like to change, I suppose.  But when you see them all in agreement about a common, singular aspect of themselves, it begins to take on larger cultural import.  Why have Black women collectively decided to reject their hair?  Have they been brainwashed by a White-centric media?  Is it ultimately a rejection of their Blackness?  Or is each decision an individual conclusion independent of outside influence?  Of course, I’m painting with a broad brush here.  Certainly not every Black woman has opted to use relaxer and/or a weave.  But it’s a multi-million dollar industry for a reason.  The decision made by these women (and some men) is even more startling when you see the pain they must endure in order to achieve and maintain their coifs.  The chemicals will completely dissolve an aluminum can in under four hours.  We are shown this in a scene played largely for laughs.  That is until the filmmakers quickly cut to footage of a girl (who can’t be more than 4-years old) being subjected to the process. 

The film also touches briefly on the ramifications of people on the lower end of the socio-economic ladder spending so much money on something so frivolous.  Weaves often times start at $1,000.  And that’s just the cost of the weave; that figure doesn’t take into account the cost of installation and maintenance.  Beyonce can afford a weave…hell, it’s probably tax deductible.  But many of the people choosing to do this are those who can least afford it.  But all of these topics, thanks to Rock, are handled in ways that are both enlightening and amusing. 

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Combover: The Movie and 1 being The Brady Bunch: Hair Brained Scheme, Good Hair gets an 8.

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Tube Talk

The Balloon Boy saga continues as reality TV wannabe Richard Heene and crew prepare to face charges for their wheat field-crushing hoax. Several characters have come forward to add solidity to the claim that Mr. Heene's unhealthy obsession with getting his own show has sent him over the edge of sanity.

Jon and Kate Plus 8 could soon come to an end. Speculators are speculating that TLC's upcoming You Ask, Kate Answers special could be the final episode of the show as we know it...maybe ever, unless Papa Gosselin lifts his ban on the network filming his brood.

Star Gazing

Saturday Night Live alum Tracy Morgan is taking on a few of his former coworkers in his new book, I Am the New Black. Tracy calls out Cheri Oteri and Chris Kattan, accusing them of treating him like a lesser life form while they worked together.

Miss California USA officials slapped Carrie Prejean with a lawsuit, claiming she never paid them back for a loan taken out for mammary-enhancing surgery. This comes as the latest in a series of squabbles between Ms. Prejean and pageant officials after a falling out that resulted in Carrie's job termination.

Reel World

Astroboy has hit theaters. The character responsible for the anime movement has come alive on the big screen with a little help on vocals from Nicolas Cage and Kristin Bell.

For whatever reason, Lionsgate has made a sixth Saw movie. I'd give you a description, but it's probably easier for you to just think back to any of the five other movies and switch the minor characters' names around a bit.

That, and much more awaits. Simply watch the episode and kindly pass it along when you're finished.