The Princess and the Frog (2009)

Growing up in the 1920’s New Orleans, Tiana’s father has taught her two things: hard work will get you want you want and don’t forget what really matters. Now Tiana is a waitress who is hoping to realize her father’s dream of a restaurant. But when Prince Naveen comes to town and both become prey in the plays of a local shadow man, her future is in question. What follows is an uninspired, insulting piece of garbage.

Disney’s latest money-pit, The Princess and the Frog, is an attempt at reviving classic Disney animation and it fails miserably. There is no charm, no life, no joy, and no beauty. Studded with death, dismemberment, and untold clichés, this movie has no soul. Even the score found herein by Randy Newman is forgettable. The film is set during the Jazz Age and there is nothing musically interesting to speak of.

Cheap jokes and even cheaper characters flail onscreen. The sequences in the voodoo emporium are one-dimensionally creepy and the shaman looks suspiciously like Prince. The bayous of Louisiana have potential until they are soiled by yet more uninspired animation.

Disney where is the brilliance you were once know for? Where’s the magic?! You insult your fans with this rubbish. If Walt and Roy could see the House of Mouse now, they’d be ashamed!!

There were no squeals of laughter to be found where I was sitting. My two young nieces were not dazzled. They seemed unaffected by what they witness. Thank God! And as I see it, the crying of young children says it all. Disney’s The Princess and the Frog is one to be missed.

(500) Days of Summer (2009)

Essentially the story of a boy who falls in love with a girl who doesn’t, this quirky romantic drama should be titled 'Reliving the past 500 days with Summer, a girl who I allowed to torture me.'

Greeting-card writer and aspiring architect Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) relives the past 500 days of his relationship with Summer (Zooey Deschanel) looking for clues on their doomed romance. Though he is told by Summer, a commitment-phobic eccentric, that she isn’t looking for anything serious, Tom plunges ahead. By day 244, he’s had his heart ripped out three times. Stupid boy keeps coming back for more.

(500) Days of Summer tries to be smart, but comes across cliché. The non-linear storyline is perhaps the most interesting element of the film. Told through days of consequence, we see moments of puppy love, spontaneity, drinking, shopping, goofing off, etc. The little vignettes are tender, but more often corny. The film wants to be many things and fails at them all.

The chemistry between Deschanel and Gordon-Levitt is rote. He makes googly-eyes the entire film. She has googly-eyes. Her vintage/thrift store wardrobe symbolism is eye-rollingly obvious. His hipster cardigans and messenger bags… well, these cool cats are so meant to be. Or not.

By the time the viewer reaches day 422, you want her to physically rip his heart out or him to snort a line to put YOU out of this pretentious misery. The culmination of days—day 500—is a cheap shot at the audience.

As I see it, (500) Days of Summer is a disappointing waste of time. Love hurts. So does this movie. It’s best avoided unless Garden State is all rented out.

Sherlock Holmes (2009)

Despite Guy Ritchie’s stamp of grit and rapid-fire, often blurry action sequences found in this adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s literary genius, Sherlock Holmes is spectacular. Well worth the price of admission, my good man.

Trading lively banter is Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr. as Dr. Watson and Holmes, respectively. Both are well suited in this new interpretation. Holmes is an insufferable man, that much holds true.  He’s a bit boorish too. Watson, a young, but well-rounded gentleman is looking to marry, settle down, and put their pairing behind them. But Holmes won’t hear of it.

Their last case centers on occultist Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong). Blackwood is convicted of murdering five women and on the eve of his hanging calls Holmes to his cell. ‘This is just the start…’ Holmes leaves all of Scotland Yard and Inspector Lestrade behind as he unravels a murderous conspiracy.

Ritchie has reignited my hero wonderfully. Building in just enough characters—including Holmes’ nemesis Professor Moriarty and Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams) who is annoying foil throughout the film—to spawn sequels.  Sherlock Holmes is a magnificent production. Old world London is gray, aptly violent, gritty, and beautiful. We see more of its dirty underbelly that anything else, but even that is delightful.

Holmes’ mindset is smartly rendered in a few key scenes that also foretell the impending blur. The screenplay underscores the impetus for Holmes’ odd manner and discomfort. Downey Jr. plays Holmes as slightly cocky, unyielding to society’s rules, and seemingly scattershot, full of undisclosed eccentricities. With his riding crop ever at the ready, Holmes dispatches his foes with a blend of critical thinking and martial arts.

In contrast is Watson. Law is gentlemanly and loyal. Ever apologetic for Holmes despite his frustration with him, Watson is a stalwartly friend. Don’t let the limp fool you. He is quick in the fight with his sword cane. Watson’s penchant for gambling was downplayed with only a few lines of dialogue, but here we see (FINALLY) Watson as Holmes equal.

Under Ritchie’s direction, Sherlock Holmes is alive and bare-knuckled, no less. I think Doyle would have been proud. The story is multi-layered; though it has its weaker points (see Rachel McAdams, the Dark Arts), the film remains a solid vehicle. A befitting, if odd score from Hans Zimmer brings another level of charm. Combined with otherworldly settings and detailed costumes, the production is a full-on assault of the senses.

As I see it, the screenplay of Sherlock Holmes is convoluted; the plot uninspired. It is the film’s weakest link. Redeeming the film are the performances by Law and Downey Jr. For that, my dear readers, you must go.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1973)

Add One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest to the list of greatest movies ever. Much like The Sixth Sense and Fight Club, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is a mind-blowing experience.

Incredible performances from Jack Nicholson, Louise Fletcher, and Will Sampson are at the center of this masterpiece. In what is essentially a film about the oppression of individualism, there are several other storylines that involve supporting characters that solidify themes of repression, careless optimism, redemption, and friendship.

Nicholson stars as R.P. McMurphy, who in an attempt to get out of a prison sentence, pleads insanity and gets sentenced to a mental institution. McMurphy’s belief that a sentence carried out in the asylum will be easier than prison. It’s not long before the McMurphy is butting heads with the institution’s wards and the iron-fisted head nurse Ratched. His defiance and optimism finds him continually at odds with Ratched much to the entertainment of his fellow patients.

Culminating to a dramatic bittersweet victory, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is a convincing story of human emotion like no other. Every element of this film builds upon the next to create a production worthy of praise. Director Milos Forman exacting formula creates a cold feeling of isolation, despair, and hopelessness amid Nicholson’s hapless optimism.

The screenplay is top-notch. The cast of supporting characters—all patients of the ward—add unbelievable subtle nuances. Brad Dourif as Billy Bibbit, a mentally challenged stutterer, Danny DeVito as the slow and harmless Martini, Christopher Lloyd play Taber, a voluntarily institutionalized man—why, we’re just no sure. Then there’s Chief, a tall Indian man who the others call ‘deaf and dumb’ played exquisitely by Will Sampson. All of these performances are multi-faceted and beautifully executed.

Finally, there’s Nurse Ratched, perhaps the most evil villainess known to cinema. With one cold stare, one even-handed comment, she can stunt the most collected of men. Her cold, calculated ways are the things nightmares are made of.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is a stunning piece of cinematic achievement. Exceptional at every angle, this film is must-see. I cannot think of a more thought-provoking, riveting film that is so ugly and so beautiful even now.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)

What Jefferson Smith (James Stewart) lacks in experience, he more than makes up for in idealism.  In Frank Capra's classic Mr. Smith goes to Washington full of conviction, morals and good will only to be greeted by political corruption and greed.  After an bill he introduces causes exposes a pork-barrel bill that will make other senator's constiuents wealthy, Mr Smith because the target of an evil smear campaign.  Building to a filibuster on the floor, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is a grand testimony to idealism.  One almost wishes that Capra's drama could be required viewing for government servants.  We'd all be well-served to hear Mr. Smith's diatribe on the senate floor.

James Stewart plays Smith with a refreshing authenticity.  In contrast stands Claude Rains as seasoned, i.e., corrupted Senator Paine.  The two battle in very different ways, but as this is a Capra film we all know how it will end.  Supporting characters include Jean Arthur who has a terrific turn as a Capitol Hill secretary.

In this cynical modern time in which we live, its hard for this viewer to commiserate with Mr. Smith.  While the gentleman is the embodiment of the hope we all feel when we first cast a vote or write our congressman, it is too easy to be disenfranchised with the current state of affairs.  It's very nearly depressing.

Production wise, the film looks great.  Tightly edited, the scenes of our nation's capital convey the ideology of Mr. Smith wonderfully.  The lighting in these keys scenes work to draw your eye to particular passages of our nation's documents.

As I see it, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is best viewed with sentimentality.  It works more as a historical or period piece.  Compared to modern cinematic politcal works, this film is too mild and meek.  Then again, perhaps that falls on me, the viewer.  As Miss Saunders states 'maybe being jaded isn't such a good idea all the time.'

Bedtime Stories (2008)

It was at the behest of my nieces and the prodding of my brother who knows of my fascination with Russell Brand that I sat down to watch Bedtime Stories starring Adam Sandler. Dear readers, you know of my distaste for the man. His best days were on SNL.

As Uncle Skeeter, Sandler is remarkably sane. His penchant for odd voices remains, but this time, as the down on his luck everyman who is caring for his niece and nephew, the voices work. Adept at story-telling, Skeeter begins to notice uncanny parallels between the bedtime stories he’s been telling Bobbi and Patrick and his real life. Before long, he’s trying to manipulate the bedtime stories to realize his own reality.

The characters herein aren’t particularly deep in Bedtime Stories. The casting is solid with Brand, Courtney Cox, Keri Russell, Guy Pierce and Richard Griffiths. Cox is funny with her obsessive mom disorder. Her poor kids haven’t experienced the true joys of childhood thanks to mom’s fascination with wheat germ. Sandler, however, is the real star of the show. And as much as it pains me to say it, some of the dialogue is funny and completely relatable.

Sandler, I’m impressed. You’ve forgone the raunchy uninspired brand of humor I have cursed you for and made something enjoyable for the whole family. Interesting enough for the adults; captivating for the children. Even computer generated Bugsy didn’t annoy me. Well done.

It Might Get Loud (2008)

Watching The Edge and Jack White look on in awe as Jimmy Page lays into ‘Ramble On’ is the epitome of this documentary from Davis Guggenheim. Behold the guitar gods of rock!

Each god tells their story—in their own words—in their own guitar—each man unique in his genius and his ability to caress heavenly chords from their instruments. White’s Kat, Page’s Strat, and The Edge’s Explorer reflect the artist’s attitudes and influences. It’s fascinating as we the viewer become flies on the wall as these three reflect on their own music history. Page, the originator of sound, Edge, the consummate sonic professional, and White, the poor boy from Detroit obsessed with the sounds of yesteryear. Interspersed with visits to locations that became part of their histories, Guggenheim allows the ICONS to ramble on about techniques and creative process.

Though these musicians are very different in styles, one element unites them all: innovation. Listening to and watching this conversation is amazing. Upon arrival, one senses nervousness in the group. But director Davis Guggenheim cultivates a perfect setting—a natural habitat, if you will—that allows these boys to find their common link.

As Page explains the origins of Come with Me and the other two join, you expect to see lighting bolts. The Edge’s snippet of Stairway to Heaven is just cool as is his sound pedal board that requires a fork-lift to move. In contrast, is White’s ever present passion for pushing the edge of sound. The opening sequences of White constructing a guitar with odds and ends it brilliant. Page questioning White on his Seven Nation Army is a ‘wow’ moment—then Edge comments ‘can you show us how it goes?’. Both are in agreement. ‘That’s a great sound!’

From shop talk like what type of strings do you use to chord evolution—no part of this conversation will be inane to anyone. These boys are authentically bad-a$$. Drawing the title from The Edge’s comment during a sound check, Guggenheim just holds the camera and records the bad-a$$ summit.

Everyone is welcome to worship the Houses of the Holy. Look upon these men and celebrate all that is electrifying, loud, and right with the world and get your faces melted off. It Might Get Loud is truly a religious experience. And as I see it, the historical value of this rock gem is apparent. Go ye, therefore, and behold the jam session that unfolds as the credits roll. The Weight has never been lighter.

personal commentary: 2009 Airing of Grievances

For the uninitiated, the tradition of Festivus begins with the Airing of Grievances. I got a lot of problems with you people! And now, you're gonna hear about it. Lucky for most of you, this is a random selection of 2009 grievances.

I-40: You've been my best friend in 2009. But like most friends, you're a bit of a flake. The only thing I can count on from you is to make me late--for everything. You demand maintenance year round. The new asphalt looks good on you, but could you please finish up this major overhaul before I quit my job over you. This relationship isn't good for either of us.

Wilson Co: You are about as welcoming as a wart--interesting to look at, a novelty even, but ultimately a pain in the ass that won't go away.

Russia: After the 2008 freeze out, early 2009 brought what I thought would be the thawing of the Cold War. WRONG!! It is a strong as ever!! Allies don't treat allies like this. While the USA hates to sanction anyone, consider yourself sanctioned. That goes for all of your factions too. The US will no longer maintain a relationship with anyone who refuses to set the record straight and/or continues to operating in a manner that causes harm to their allies. Russia, you are a toad.

DVD releases: I have been complacent as George Lucas continued to take my money from new and almost never improved versions of the same films, but I am drawing the line. Effective now. A cavalcade of new releases hit the shelves this year--par for the course--but the nonstop versions are excessive. I don't want to purchase the same movie three/four times. One movie, please. Stop with the theatrical cuts, gay editions, collector's editions, director's cut, super-duper six-months later editions, gaffer's commentary editions, etc. Either release the movie you want me to see or don't release it at all. Unfortunately for you, Netflix is my friend. Suck on that!

Bono: I paid you $19.99+ tax of my hard earned dollars and all I got was a CD of crap. Yeah, I'm bitter, you jerk. How about a lot less proselytizing and more rock?

Ticketmaster/Live Nation: I could have started a trust fund with the amount of money I've given your this year. What do I have for it? An inbox full of spam, (if you like Coldplay, you will like The Jonas Bros--like hell I will!) and bad back. Gitmo detainees don't suffer like concert-goers do.

Christmas lights: After all that work, you have the audacity to go out. Thanks a lot, numb-nuts.

Alzheimer's disease: I hate you most of all this Festivus season. You have stripped my family of its figurehead. But more importantly, you are robbing me of my grandfather. Perhaps is existence is blissful--as you struck, he was unaware. But I see, hear, and feel you every day, the effect you have on my loves ones is despicable, and I hate you.

We Are Wizards (2008)

Billed as an entertaining documentary, I expected We Are Wizards to be to Harry Potter as Ringers is to Lord of the Rings. WRONG! This 79 minute freakshow is boring at best. The subjects showcased here give Potterheads a bad name. Focusing mainly on kids and middle-aged white males who have formed garage bands inspired by J.K. Rowling’s characters (Harry and the Potters, Draco and the Malfoys, Hungarian Horntails, etc), this documentary isn’t interesting and these people are pathetic. Each interviewee comes across a derelict with poor hygiene. They have passion for their respective weirdness, but none of it truly applies to Rowling’s series.

We Are Wizards doesn’t explore the origins of inspiration or what binds us to the phenomenon. Nor does it make its case for or against Harry. Opening with a few comments from a fundamentalist muggle that believes Harry Potter will inspire our youth to engage in Dark Arts thus bringing about the fall of society, the doc shows promise. Then it gets weird. A brief interview with the founder of The Leaky Cauldron fansite gives hope. Then it gets weirder. And finally a brief foray into Warner Brothers attempt at squashing fansites spirals into stupidity.

This documentary is a poor representation of Potter fans. This muggle will pretend it doesn’t exist. You’d best served to do the same.

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)

Though an apt description of my past week, The Nightmare Before Christmas is known as the film of young suburban misanthropic Goths.  Dazzling stopmotion animation delights onscreen, but this viewer found the movie lacking charm.  Full disclosure: I gave up after 38 minutes.

It seems Jack Skellington, the king of Halloween Town is tired of the screaming and scaring every 31st of October.  Somehow he finds the door to Christmas Land and is dumbfounded by it as I am of this film.

The self-indulgent score overpowers every element.  Jack Skellington seems to be a character worthy of our compassion, but his elocution is pitiful.  The viewer cannot relate if he does not understand.

Unique as it may be, The Nightmare Before Christmas falls flat.  Stop-motion animation is a fabulous technique.  The film is fascinating to look at, but  you quickly get over that to find the story is unappealing.  It's tedious.  The musicality is the film's weakness.  Garbled and monotonous, the songs just aren't good.

As I see it, Tim Burton and director Harry Selick missed the mark with this one.  I'm at a loss to explain the film's cult following.  The film is a mess.  Burton's Corpse Bride is a far superior piece. Selick fares better with James and the Giant Peach or the creepfest Coraline.  The Nightmare Before Christmas is just that.

Star Wars in Concert (2009)

I’m afraid that I misspoke. I believe The Killers have been topped by the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra and Anthony Daniels. Performing selections from John Williams’ iconic score, the Philharmonic was exquisite. But that was just the beginning...

Star Wars fans of all ages descended on the former Sommet Center, united in their love of a fictional universe. In the rotunda of the Center, untold movie memorabilia was displayed. Costumes, props, and other iconic pieces from the film series were within reach. It was truly breath-taking. You just wouldn’t understand.

Mingling with Stormtroopers and R2D2 was truly amazing. Boba Fett and Bossk mugging for the camera while Death Star troopers and pilots looked on. I felt a bit ridiculous acting as excited as the eight year old beside me. Unlike my companion, I was unable to temper my reserve. Fully embracing the fanboy within, I flitted from display to display, engaging fellow fanboys—smiling and oogling— just soaking it in.

Beckoned to our seats by the sounds of the Universe, I waited with bated breath. The little man beside me and I carried on until the voice of Darth Vader introduced ‘a part of the rebel alliance and traitor’ Sir Anthony Daniels. C3PO himself guided our journey through the Williams’ canon.

Divided into a series of acts, the score came alive at the hands of the orchestra. Exploring the universal themes found throughout the films, each note corresponded with an image on the huge LCD screen behind the orchestra. A few particular moments stand out:

• Just back from Intermission, we journey to a most wretched hive of scum and villainy--Mos Eisley Cantina.  Listening to the jazzed refrains coming from Figian D'an and the Modal Nodes were rockin.
• The rise and fall of Anakin Skywalker was a bittersweet mash-up.  It's no secret--my loathing of Lucas' prequel.  This act was heart-wrenching, but dispicable all the same
• The twin suns of Tatooine.  Need I say more?

Overall, the concert was a treasure.  The memories made and shared today are priceless.  Wish you could have joined me.

A Dickens of a Christmas (2009)

This weekend Downtown Historic Franklin Tennessee was transformed into 19th Century Victorian England.  Mr. Dickens' himself was out and about on the mild December day enjoying the revelry.

Tolerable as I was, my companion for the day, Angelino and I meandered through the town sightseeing and people watching.  The city streets lacked for not for entertainment.  Threatening to breck into some Riverdancing, I had to move Angelino along.  We were nearly trampled by the careening carriage.

Sadly, we were disappointed by the period dancing which turned about to be a square dance calling without the square dancing.  These folks look as if a spring of holly had be inserted in an most uncomfortable of locations.

Missing from the day's events were roasted chestnuts and actual characters.  Mr. Scrooge was a most displeasing man.  Cold and embittered, I felt a pang of sadness for a poor soul.  But I whole hearted agreed that anyone going about with a 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be boiled in his own pudding with a stake of holly through his heart--especially after our foray into the Cool Springs Mecca--an unholy of places.  Consumerism is god.  Rudeness his maidservant.

The day was a rounding success in keeping with the situation!

Joyeux Noel (2005)

Inspired by the true events of WWI, Joyeux Noel recounts Christmas Eve 1914 when French, German, and scottich soldiers found common ground in thoughts of home. Building up to the Eve, we follow a French Lieutenant, a drafted world-class tenor, a Catholic priest, and a pair of brothers. The French receive champagne to celebrate the holiday on the front lines. The Scottish receive bagpipes, the Germans miniture Christmas trees much to chargrin of their commandant. From each foxholes rises a celebration uniquely their own.

On the strains of Silent Night a truce is made. The harsh realities of war are forgotten if only for a day. The soldiers share drinks and pictures of home. They pause soccer games and singing to bury their dead. As friendships emerge, each man resolves himself as when morning breaks they are to become enemies once more.

Filmed in German, French,and English, Joyeux Noel is a rare foreign film that transcends agendas in part to writer/director Christian Carion.  He keeps from the sentimental and chooses to celebrate humanity and showcase the futility of war.  He is steadfast in finding the beauty among the ugly.

Joyeux Noel is a more than a holiday film.  It is a drama of significance, celebrating a unique brotherhood.

Scrooge (1970)

Albert Finney (Big Fish, The Bourne Ultimatum) is Ebenezer Scrooge in this musical rendition of Charles Dickens’ perennial favorite. Thought I had seen every interpretation, but this musical was new to me. Scrooge isn’t cold, or witty, or hateful, but rather he looks to be sucking on sour marbles. The contorted, puckered face is off-putting.

The real treat is Sir Alec Guinness as Jacob Marley. The character has a stronger role here. In retrospect, one can see the influences of this film on the most recent release. I see Zemeckis’ version in a whole new light. The special effects found here are perfectly moribund. The ghosts of Past, Present, and Future Christmas are fascinating. But the film really lacks luster for me.

Let’s be honest. The musical number can’t win any awards. The warbling herein borders on torture. They all last a little too long. The Scrooge/Marley foray into hell is silly.

It’s funny how polarizing Dickens’ short story has become. Scrooge is the favorite of many a friend and colleague. I, however, am steadfast in my love of Alistair Sims. As I see it, there is a version for us all.  Which one do you prefer?  Do tell!

A Christmas Carol (1938)

This adaptation of the Dicken’s classic is an oldie but not too goodie. I don’t take issue with the artistic liberties of director Edwin Marin (The Invisible Man). Rather, I am disappointed by the lack of charm.

Reginald Owen (Mary Poppins) stars at Ebenezer. The poor man pales in comparison to Alistair Sims and George C. Scott. Gene Lockhart looks strangely familiar but I can’t place him. Overall, the cast is nice bunch of MGM stars.  Ann Rutherford is gorgeous as Ghost of Christmas Past.  Nephew Fred played by Barry Mackay is a real treat.

As I see it, you can’t go wrong with any adaptation of A Christmas Carol. I just prefer my gems to sparkle.  Interesting trivia: Lionel Barrymore was originally tapped to star in this version, but bowed out due to injury.

Bonus Feature: CD

With only one concert left in my 2009 season, this was by far the best of year. Coldplay was an amazing religious experience, but The Killers rocked the house. With infectious enthusiasm, Brandon Flowers and Co. help me relive that February evening at the Opry house with their latest CD/DVD release Live From The Royal Albert Hall.

The Killers tear through classics like Mr. Brightside and Somebody Told Me with raucous energy. But the focus of the 2+ hours is Day and Age. Right off the bat, Brandon knocks out beautiful renditions of Human and This Is Your Life. The acoustic version of Sam’s Town that tears the soul. All These Things That I’ve Done takes on new fresh new emotion.  My favorites Joy Ride and Spaceman incite the crowd to swing and sing along.

With bonus festival performances that include Tranquilize and Smile Like You Mean It, the set is everything a Victim wants. The live CD makes the concert portable and nothing is lost in transference. The Killers continue to show ballsy commitment in their live performances.  The Killers Live From The Royal Albert Hall is a must have. If you buy one CD this year, make it Day & Age.

James and the Giant Peach (1996)

Young orphan James lives with his two wicked aunts, Sponge and Spiker.  A slave to the spinsters, James world is a lonely, miserable place.  His only solice is the memory of his parents.  Enter a spilled bag of crocodile tongues.  Overnight a giant peach grows in the wasteland of the front yard.  Before long, the huge fruit is rolling James and an odd bunch of inhabitants away and towards his dream of New York City.  During the journey, James is kept company by a lady bug, spider, centipede, earthworm, and a grasshopper.

Devilishly engaging and wonderfully macabre, James and the Giant Peach is produced by Tim Burton, directed by Henry Selick and adapted from the Roald Dahl classic.  The film is perfect.  A blend of live action and motion capture, it's equal parts odd and charm.

The cast of characters make the film.  Voices by Richard Dreyfuss, Susan Sarandon, David Thewlis, and Paul Terry warm the heart.  Pete Postlethwaite is delightful in a quaint role.  Aunts Sponge and Spiker are frightening.  The dialogue between James and his creature counterparts is vibrant, filled with humor and emotion.

The story is simple, but multi-faceted and is just as I imagined it.  The production values are left of center, fitting beautifully with my third-grade memories.  From the aunt's creepy old, far from square house to the lucious flesh of the peach, every image jumps from the scene making a vivid fantasy.

As I see it, James and the Giant Peach is a brilliant adaptation of a fine children's book.  Don't miss the perfect storm found herein.

Bonus Feature: CD

With lyrics like 'starting to feel a little abused like a coffee machine in an office' and 'I might steal your clothers and wear them if they fit me', don't look to Shakira's latest for thought-provoking lyricism.  But...  She Wolf explodes with sexuality and tight arrangments.

A range of influences can be found in this 16 track set which includes a few in her native language and live versions of Gypsy and She Wolf.  Each song reflects its producer exactly.  Pherrell Williams from The Neptunes blends his urban heritage with Latino simplicity on six of the tracks.  Long Time is a stunner.

Men in This Town is an ode to Matt Damon--you know, guys in general.  It's the longing in a girl's heart quantified.  Can't wait to hear this one remixed. Party in the USA is so last week! 

Gypsy doesn't try too hard and that aformentioned lyric does irritate my logical nature.  But beneath the amatuerish lyricism is a layered piece that includes sitar if I had to guess.  It's hypnotic and slightly stupid.

Wyclef Jean pops up in what is easily the albums best track.  Spy includes an inspired 'wah' that kills.  It's fun and earworm-worthy.  The track's freshness belies an explosive aggression.

Mon Amour is gorgeous FU that every girl can relate too.  Inspired and empowering.

Current 'it' boys Lil Wayne and Kid Cudi moonlight on a couple of club tracks that dare you not to move.  Simple back beats laid by Timbaland let Wayne flow typical nonsense.  Shakira gets to 'swing her hips like numchucks'--it's eye-rolling nonsense, but it oozes sexy.

Ultimately, She Wolf reflects its author.  Like Shakira, it's an unapologetic, smart, sexy album that revels in the feminine mystique.

The History Channel Presents: Christmas Unwrapped (2005)

The origins of the most celebrated holiday and its greatest traditions are examined in this History Channel special.  It's not all holly jolly; so don't watch if you don't want to know.  Harry Smith narrates.

Rooted in Pagan rituals, Christmas became the commericalized event it is now long after the Puritans banned, the Catholics assumed it, and England reveled in it.  The History Channel--much like this holiday-- is no respecter of religions so those who deem Christmas to be the birth of the Christ child could be dismayed.

Bawdy events of the Norse Winter Solstice would eventually become the first 'Christmas'.  It was a day of debauchery.  When the taverns and pubs couldn't be banned, our religious ancestors chose to 'join' them.  Poinsettias, St. Nick, and the first Christmas trees and cards--courtesy of Prince Albert--are traced through history with often time interesting results.  The history behind Dickens' short story and its effects on the holiday are equally interesting.

Christmas Unwrapped is a historical treat for holiday lovers.  The documentary makes no judgements, but serves to inform.  So whether you worship at the Wal-Mosque or not, the holiday is ultimately what you make it.  Grab your wassail and enjoy!