It was in the paper

NO, I GET PAID TO DO THIS: Is there anybody alive out there? (This is Radio Nowhere ... )

LINKS: That thing I wrote about the one movie that everyone was talking about

So have you ever noticed about certain professions that the people who work in them don't always seem to be that engaged, when they're not at the office, by the thing that they do for a living? I'm not sure what this would be like outside of the journalism world. Maybe it would be like if I managed a Taco Bell and served burritos and chalupas and nachos to people all day long, but never ate any of that stuff myself, or even thought about it, really. Or let's imagine that I worked in a salon, doing hundreds of cuts and styles every week, but never paid attention to my own hair or beard beyond washing them. Maybe I'd even go to work with a paper bag over my head. Suppose that I got a job as librarian, checking books out to patrons, sorting books, shelving them, etc., but never actually read a book, or even used one to prop up the sofa with the missing leg.

The dirty little secret for at least some people who work in the newspaper industry is that we don't ever actually, you know, read the paper. I'm a little more active about flipping through the Web site. Mostly, though, I get my news by listening to the radio while I exercise, or hitting a few key stops around the Internet after hours. Maybe if I could put the Daily Herald on my Sansa and listen to someone read it aloud while I jog to the gym ... eh, even that might not cut it. To be honest, I don't even think about the newspaper all that much. (I do have a current subscription, but that's just so that my wife can get the coupons.) And I know that I'm not the only one because of a funny little thing that happens every so often at work.

Picture me sitting at my desk, minding my own business, maybe watching the new trailer for Captain Ameri — er, reviewing my interview notes for my next feature story. A co-worker comes up and lounges on the partition behind my iMac. We'll pretend her name is Janet. (Maybe we'll even pretend that Janet is a she. Don't you wish you knew?) Janet: "So, Cody, what did you think about The King's Speech?" Me: "It was great. Did you read my review?" Janet: "No. When did you review it?" Me: "It was in the paper. It was in January, when the movie came out. Do you read the paper, Janet?" (I was teasing when I said this — it's OK. Janet's a good sport. We can tease about stuff.) Janet: "So you liked it?" Me: "Yes, I liked it. Colin Firth is excellent. I put in my Top 10 Movies of the Year that I do every year in December. That was in the paper, too, Janet." Janet: "Well I don't read the paper."

And what can I say about that, really? I mean, I want you to read the newspaper. Of course I do. I guess if you don't, however, then we can still be friends. I mean, we probably won't hang out. Don't feel bad if I never show up for poker night. If you want to, though, you can ask me whether I liked that one movie. I promise not to snark at you. Mostly.

Striking sparks with Parks

SOMETIMES I WATCH TV: Are you watching the best comedy on television?

LINKS: I repeat — are you watching the best comedy on television?

I never watch TV on our television. We don't have cable and we can't get a decent digital signal — it's a mystery; our house is apparently in the Twilight Zone, or at least in the No Digital Reception Zone — but, more to the point, it's 2011. Watching TV on your television is practically barbaric in this day and age. I mean, we're not apes here. Sheesh. We watch TV online. Fewer commercials + DVR technology (pause, fast-forward, rewind) without buying a DVR = T(ir)V(ana). You don't have as many options, but I see that as a perk. TV programming is mostly white noise anyway. My point, in all of this, is that I have discovered what is literally — literally — the best show on television. (Once we're done pretending that Friday Night Lights is still on television, at any rate.) I give you ... Parks and Recreation.

I found out about the show from my wife when we were looking for something to watch on Netflix a couple of months back. We don't pay for Netflix every month, but we'd forgotten to renew the "hold" on our account and, rather than fight the charge, we decided to just enjoy a month of Netflix. So we watched the first season of Parks and Recreation together. (And then the second. And then we had to switch to Hulu for the third.) There's great stuff in the first season, but the show isn't quite fully formed. The basic blueprint is The Office meets middle-American city government, and first-season Parks and Recreation tries a bit too hard to make its lead character, Leslie Knope (played by Amy Poehler), "Michael Scott-esque." Even in the beginning, however, you can tell that the show is different.

For one thing, half-hour TV sitcoms tend to, not to put too fine a point on it, (exert a Hoover-like pull on the universe). That's right, they (exert a Hoover-like pull on the universe). Most of them, anyway. So just by not (exerting a Hoover-like pull on the universe), Parks and Recreation is something of a minor miracle. More than just not (you get it), however, Parks and Recreation is actually articulate, clever and character-driven. (Almost all of the time: The usual showbiz biology that teaches that humor cannot exist independent of sex is in force here, but to a refreshingly lesser degree than is elsewhere the norm.) The show began as a replacement, so the first season only has six episodes. The second season got a "Now that's more like it" full order of 24 episodes. The recently-conluded third season: 16.

The show did get renewed, but the chopped-down third season is a red flag. We know, we know, TV writers think this show is awesome and there's a loyal core audience. Fine. Here's some more episodes. The ratings aren't great, though, so get us some Emmys, or else. If  Parks and Recreation gets canceled, then I may lose faith in television altogether. Leslie Knope is a great three-dimensional character, but the show is pretty incredibly even-handed in fleshing out the supporting cast. Most half-hour ensemble comedies have a few strong characters — three or four at most — and everyone else is a one-joke stereotype who pops in every other episode or so to do their "bit," whatever it is. Ask yourself how many characters on The Office you can even name, other than Michael, Dwight, Jim/Pam and Andy.

You know what? Rashida Jones, who had a regular role in the second season of The Office, is a lead player on Park and Recreation and her new show is the better of the two. That's right, The Office. You are no longer the best comedy on NBC and, really, it's not even that close. Some of the characters on the two shows are suspiciously similar, but Parks and Recreation wins every comparison. Dwight Schrute, for example, wouldn't last five minutes in a staring contest with Ron Swanson. Nick Offerman is just as interesting an actor as Rainn Wilson, and Ron is a more colorful, more versatile, better-rounded alpha male riff than Dwight. So, yes, there's going to be a fourth season of Parks and Recreation. I'm telling you now so that everyone watches it. Especially since I can't, given our location in the No Digital Reception Zone. Do the right thing. Be a true American. Honor the Swanson Pyramid of Greatness. Save Parks and Recreation!

Vroom for improvement

REVIEW, TAKE TWO: Further reflections on Cars 2

LINKS / FRESHNESS RATING: Daily Herald review of Cars 2 / This post contains small SPOILERS for Cars 2

When I'm hunched over a keyboard reviewing the latest new wonder from Pixar, I find that I rarely have space to mention the excellent animated short films that Pixar includes with each of its feature-length releases. With Cars 2, they've outdone themselves. Literally. The short film is a dip back into the world of Toy Story, with everyone from Tom Hanks and Tim Allen to Timothy Dalton (the voice of Mr. Pricklepants, the actorly hedgehog) back in the mix. (I mentioned in my review that it might be an obscene display of limitless power that Pixar hired Sophia Loren and Franco Nero for 90-second roles as Italian cars. When you add this to that, there's no "might" about it. We get it, John Lasseter. Your people are awesome and EVERYONE wants to work with you guys.) The short is called Hawaiian Vacation and it's funny, touching and includes at least a quick gag for every single toy who was in Bonnie's bedroom at the end of Toy Story 3. Wow. Hawaiian Vacation is, in a word, sublime. And it sort of blows Cars 2 out of the water. It's far too strong a reminder of everything that's awesome about the Toy Story movies to be anything but a hindrance to the main event. Cars 2, huh? Why didn't they just make Toy Story 4? Other observations:

Et 3(D), Cars 2?: Once upon a time, it seemed like animation was the only realm where 3D really made a difference. Now I'm beginning to suspect that, a) it's almost as superfluous for animated films as it is for live-action films, and b) the best possible way to enjoy 3D animated movies is to see them in IMAX. I saw Robert Zemeckis's animated Beowulf (remember Robert Zemeckis's animated Beowulf?) that way and, more recently, How to Train Your Dragon. I think both of those films have scenes that maximize the visual impact of 3D, but I also think IMAX projection just make everything look better. Of course, I saw Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides in IMAX 3D and the 3D was as bothersome as it is with every live action film, so there's that. At any rate, don't bother with Cars 2 in 3D. The 3D doesn't improve it one single iota.

Mater Mind Meld: Disney pioneered this gimmick at least as early as the memorable "Pink Elephants on Parade" number from Dumbo (1941), and it's still alive and kicking 70 years later. Mater gets trapped by the bad guys and drugged with something, whereupon the image blurs briefly and we fade into a trippy sequence set inside Mater's head. I almost invariably find such sequences to be a waste of time. (Remember Alex the Lion getting tranq darted in Madagascar?) Just have Mater conk out and wake up trapped inside Big Bentley (see what they did there?), which is how the "this is Mater's brain on drugs" sequence eventually ends. "Pink Elephants" turns this trick better than most because of its musical component, but nobody ever nails it.

Spy tech: Late in the movie Mater gets equipped by British intelligence with an array of voice-activated Spy Hunter-type gadgets. The voice activation lets a trademark Mater exclamation such as "Dadgum!" be TWICE as funny as it normally would (it's normally zero funny, so do the math). "Dadgum!" causes a gatling gun to pop out of Mater's innards, so you can imagine what goes down when he follows that up with a "Sheeoooot!" It's not so much that gag is handled poorly as that it's older than Mater's rusty chassis. Actually, a lot of the jokes in the film feel like retreads.

There he goes again

BREAKING NEWS: Kate from LOST finds her way into Middle-earth

LINKS: Become a friend of Peter Jackson on Facebook

I know, I know. For someone who devotes an inordinate amount of time to whining about all of the things that are wrong with Peter Jackson's vision of Middle-earth, I certainly seem to keep track of what he's doing with The Hobbit. I care too much about J.R.R. Tolkien's books to just yawn and say nothing. And, for all that I crack wise about Jackson's Lord of the Rings movies, I still own them on DVD, and still have tremendous respect for a lot of what he did with them. I try to cling to that respect, at any rate. Sometimes it's hard. Apologists will give you that line about, "No movie could ever be as good as the book," along with lots of stern finger-wagging about how its improper, or at least inconsiderate, to compare movies to books that they're based on. Bull. If you make the movie, then you're inviting the comparison.

Besides, is it really all that hard to stick to the author's vision? People make excellent movie adaptations out of the novels of Jane Austen on a regular basis. Without making ridiculous changes that reinterpret the source material, or invent characters and events, or greatly dumb down character arcs, motivations and backstory. (Of course, you can sometimes do all of that and still make movie that's at least pleasantly watchable, if not destined for AFI greatness, such as Clueless.) Peter Jackson would have been an ideal director for the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie (although Gore Verbinski did just fine with it). Hey, Pete, here's a broad outline of a cool thing we do at Disneyland. Knock yourself out. Do whatever you want with it. Instead, we get all of his "improvements" to The Lord of the Rings. I mean, how did anybody ever even read the books in the first place? Hey, Fran? Philippa? Am I crazy, or will audiences will respond much better if Merry and Pippin are nitwitted, ill-mannered jackanapes who literally run into Frodo as he's leaving the Shire and sort of just go along with him. Let's write that!

I'm hot beneath the collar at the moment because the latest big news from the set of The Hobbit is that filmmakers have cast former LOST tough gal Evangeline Lilly as Tauriel, an elf of Mirkwood. Which means that it's happening again. Yes, Peter Jackson is MAKING STUFF UP. To make the movie(s) better, of course. I get that Tolkien didn't have, proportionally, a whole lot of truck with female characters in his books. Actually, there are exactly zero female characters in The Hobbit. So I guess merely beefing up the presence of Arwen, or lingering over Eowyn's crush on Aragorn, wasn't really an option. I still don't quite get why that means that BLATANT INVENTION is necessary to make something that anyone's going to watch. All of the women who are going to go see a Hobbit movie in the first place are with you already, Pete. You don't have to keep winning them over.

Jackson offered assurances on Facebook that Tauriel won't be sharing Legolas's treehouse (or his cave chamber, or however it is they roll in Mirkwood), which is great, fine, splendid, thanks a million. At least the made-up characters won't be having fake pretend liaisons with the other characters who aren't technically supposed to be in the movie. WE CAN ALL THANK TOM BOMBADIL FOR THAT. (Legolas's old man, Thranduil, has a small role in the book, and Orlando Bloom wasn't doing anything else anyway, so loophole. I mean, elves live forever, right? So ol' Leggy was for sure hanging out somewhere when Dad locked up Bilbo and the dwarves.) I'm guessing that about two-thirds of the running time of the second Hobbit movie has already been mapped out for the Battle of the Five Armies, and there has to be someone to cut to whenever we need an elf to do some bow-and-arrow whizbangery, right? Welcome aboard, Kate from LOST. Hope your oliphaunt surfing is up to snuff.

A big, Harry to-do

PREVIEW REVIEW: Welcome back, Potter — it's the final countdown

LINKS / FRESHNESS RATING: Watch the last Harry Potter trailer ever / This post contains avada kedavra level SPOILERS for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

In terms of pop culture time, which is sort of like geologic time, I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows about 100 years ago. And like most people who were hanging out somewhere at midnight on the first day of sales, I read the entire book in a few days and didn't read to process so much as to tick off the various mini-climaxes and get to the big showdown. I remember a wedding. There's a lot of wandering in the forest. We get a couple of surprise betrayals (et tu, Luna Lovegood's dad?), as well as a tearful goodbye or three (we hardly knew thee, Dobby). It turns out that Dumbledore fishes off the witches' end of the pier. (Or maybe that was a wholesale invention sprung on readers after the fact that's not supported by A SINGLE WORD OR SENTENCE in the entire seven books. I don't quite remember.) Ron chickens out, then chickens back in; Neville Longbottom leads the resistance at Hogwarts; Snape maintains plausible deniability. Harry crosses over, then crosses back, then suddenly has kids of his own. Somewhere in there, Voldemort finally got good and mort, once and for all. The end.

I know there's a ton of stuff that I'm not remembering. If the final trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 is anything to go by, however, then either most of the story was already covered in Deathly Hallows, Part 1, or else, well, shoot there's only time for so many details when you're adapting a single novel into nearly five hours of cinema. What I'm getting from the trailer is that there's a bit of Harry, Hermione and Ron breaking in at Gringotts to snag one of the horcruxes, and then — bam! — Team Harry vs. Team Voldy at Hogwarts. I mean, they definitely checked off the wedding and the camping trip in Part I, and Dobby went to ride with the Valkyries in House Elf Valhalla, but did the filmmakers really have nothing left except for Gringotts and Custer's Hogwarts's Last Stand?

I can't say that I'm thrilled about the prospect of the Potter peeps attempting to outdo the length/scope of the siege of Helm's Deep in The Two Towers (as envisioned by Peter Jackson). Watching scene after dimly lit scene of orc horde target practice has its own set of problems, but wizard battles are even more visually static than siege engines in the rain. It's all fireballs and bolts of energy, unless two wizards are fighting, in which case it's even more lethargic. There are two or three cuts in the trailer of Harry and Voldemort "dueling," which is to say that they point their wands at each other, the wands emit color coded streams of lightning that meet in the middle, and then the combatants make "morning after Thanksgiving dinner"-level poop faces while they grunt and strain and try to ... what, exactly? Push the other guy over backward?

The most confounding part of the trailer, though, has got to be the What-the-Helga-Hufflepuff?! inclusion of what sure looks like a moment that's intended to have the "Fill your hands!" resonance of the Long Kiss Goodnight to the Big V. Dirty Harry gives ol' He Who Must Not, Etc., his coldest stare and snarls, "Come on, Tom. Let's finish this the way we started it. TOGETHER!" What happens next is probably something that you shouldn't watch if you want to maintain any level of suspense about How They Chose To End It. Is Radcliffe doing a line from the book there? It didn't have the ring of familiarity to it, but my memory of stuff that happened 100 years ago is admittedly spotty. There's not a high bar here. The prior films have sorta been all over the map, but I personally think Deathly Hallows, Part I is the worst of them. It wouldn't have taken much for me to exit the series on a high note, but if I've already seen the biggest cut from the grand finale, then I'm just going to be angry. Don't make me angry, David Yates. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

What about Bob?

THAT AND MY TWO CENTS WILL GET YOU: They love him, they love him not

LINKS: There's a new book about Robert Redford; official Web site for Redford's most recent movie

I have never met Robert Redford. On the other hand, I've lived in the shadow of Mount Timpanogos, which is home to Redford's Sundance Resort, as well as a Redford-owned personal residence, for most of my life. I've heard him casually discussed around town for years and, now that there's a new Redford biography (by Michael Callan) on the market, a few people are talking once again. A couple of years ago, I did a live radio interview with the Park City NPR affiliate during the Sundance Film Festival. One of the first questions put to me, by an out-of-state journalist, was along the lines of, "What do they think of Robert Redford down there in Provo?" Unspoken, but heavily implied, was the following: Don't they think he's liberal celebrity jerkwad? There are absolutely people in Utah Valley (me, for instance) who admire and/or respect Robert Redford. On the other hand, it's not for nothing that even out-of-state types know (or think they know) that famously conservative Utah County looks at its most renowned part-time resident at least somewhat askance.

That would be putting it mildly in the minds of some. There are probably more than a few people in Provo, Orem and surrounding cities who wonder why we couldn't have gotten Bruce Willis (who owns homes and businesses in Idaho) or Harrison Ford (in Wyoming). Willis, is at least right-leaning (he doesn't like being called a Republican, but he's publicly supported Republican candidates and ideals), plus he saved Earth from a rogue asteroid with his bare hands and he can ferret out Eurotrash thieves executing complex robberies without even wearing socks. As for Harrison Ford, who knows what his politics are, but he probably wouldn't bug anyone about the environment and what's cooler than being Han Solo, Indiana Jones, Jack Ryan, the president of the United States, the guy from The Fugitive who didn't kill his wife, and a commie submarine commander with a bad Russian accent? Also, there's that one time that he was a sleazy yuppie lawyer who gets shot in the head and becomes a Good Person.

Most Utahans know that Redford has acted in movies, and maybe even that he's directed some, but who watches any of those anyway? I'm not saying that anyone's done a scientific study to rate Utah residents' opinions of Redford's films, but if they had, it might look like this:

Utah-Approved Robert Redford Movies
1) Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid *
2) The Natural
3) Didn't he do that one where he bags Demi Moore from Woody Harrelson?
4) I guess there's the thing with the British actress from The English Patient where he knows stuff about horses and Scarlett Johansson
5) [He's made other movies? Really?]
 * Although, what the aitch-ee-double-hockey-sticks, Burt Bacharach? Seriously, what. the. aitch-ee-double-hockeysticks?!

If you could have overheard people in line at the Cinemark 16 in Provo when Redford's new historical drama The Conspirator played there in April, the conversation might have gone something like this:

"Say, what have you heard about that new Redford movie?"
"You mean the historical thing about how we should all feel bad for killing the woman who shot Abraham Lincoln?"
"Didn't a man shoot Abraham Lincoln?"
"That's probably what that sissy Lefty Redford thinks, too."

On the other hand, even Utah residents who wish that Robert Redford would just pipe down when there's a debate about widening the highway in Provo Canyon, or preserving wilderness lands in southern Utah, probably think it's pretty cool that he's made Utah famous all over the world with the Sundance Film Festival. Like, almost everyone in the cast of Friends has personally been to Utah because of that. (A for-reals true fact. Everyone except for the guy who plays Joey. What's the holdup, Joey?) And businesses in Utah do get millions of dollars from the festival every year. Shoot, Redford even did that one movie where he plays a mountain man who kills bears and shoots guns. (That would be Jeremiah Johnson.) Back off, Idaho! Robert Redford is our Hollywood celebrity.

We're No. 1!

REVIEW, TAKE TWO: Further reflections on Super 8

LINKS / FRESHNESS RATING: Daily Herald review of Super 8 / This post contains monstrous SPOILERS for Super 8

For a lot of us, movies are a bit like sports teams. When we like a movie, we start to root for it a little. We want other people, including movie critics, to also like it. And since the most readily quantifiable measure of any movie's "success" or "failure" is its ticket sales, we pay attention to box-office tallies with the hope that "our" movie will kick all of the other movie's butts. Anyone with a degree of affection for J.J. Abrams's Super 8, therefore, was probably pleased to see it "win" its opening weekend, beating out a relatively weak field to deliver its marketers at least a week's worth of "No. 1 movie in America" ad copy. The first-weekend haul of $35 million for Super 8 suggests that even a feeble entry into the marketplace by Green Lantern — or (less plausibly) a muscular showing by Mr. Popper's Penguins — will almost certainly unseat the champ, bumping it down the charts and beginning its long slide into home viewing platforms. Nothing about its weekday grosses suggests that Super 8 is about to suddenly demonstrate some killer second-weekend staying power, but one can always hope. One who, like me, is rooting for the movie, that is. Other thoughts:

Train Strain: I've never witnessed an actual train crash. It's probably a sight to behold. The train crash in Super 8 is definitely that. I enjoyed watching it, and at the same time came within just one more bounding, spiraling train car, or billowing orange fireball, of rolling my eyes. More than once actually. (It's a long train crash.) Is the entire train made of rubber bouncing balls? Did it somehow collide with the Great Wall of China? I get that it's supposed to be over the top, but there's a fine line that the scene doesn't quite manage to effectively straddle from start to finish. I had the same reaction watching the tank battle later in the movie. Mostly perfect, but definitely pushing it.

The Grunts On the Bus Go Splat, Splat, Splat: One of the more underrated thrills of the movie, I thought, is the nighttime attack on the military bus, with four of the young heroes, including the kid who always pukes, boxed up in the holding pen at the back. There's just one vehicle in the scene for Abrams's monster to toss around, but the action is just as nerve-wracking as in the noisier, more heavily populated "money" scenes.

No Country for Old Men: As a devotee of Kyle Chandler and the Coach Taylor-ness that he exudes when playing authority figures — and if you tend to think that's all he does, then I refer you to Peter Jackson's King Kong for an amusing change of pace — it was a little disappointing to see Joe's dad pull off an awesome jailbreak (after he's been cooped up by the Air Force) and then ... not really do all that much. Still, I greatly enjoyed the scenes of him attempting to manage the escalating crisis.

Master Spielberg: The parallels between Super 8 and producer Steven Spielberg's E.T. are obvious, but Abrams also impressively follows his idol/mentor's lead in another respect. One of the strongest elements of the movie is how long and how effectively it keeps the monster continually just beyond the edges of the screen, tantalizingly just out of sight. It's the same thing that Spielberg did so well all those years ago Jaws, and Abrams handles it like a champ. Of course, you sometimes end up over-promising when you keep your biggest secret until people are literally about to punch you in the face if you don't show them some-thing.

Another One of Those: So, yeah, I probably haven't really seen that exact monster in half-a-dozen other movies, but it felt that way. When we finally get a sorta-complete-look at what's been terrorizing the town, it's a bit of a letdown. The triangular face. The breathing orifices with fluttery skin flaps. The deep-set beady eyes. The rancor-from-Return-of-the-Jedi-like posture and body structure. I still love your movie, J.J. I was just hoping for more of a surprise.

Anybody want a peanut?

THE INTERNET HAS MUCH KNOWLEDGE CLUTTER: Hey, Princess Bride fans, you never had it so good!

LINKS: Official The Princess Bride Web site; Inigo Montoya on Facebook

Official movie Web sites are dorky. (Almost as dorky as people who, tragically warped by years of brutally enforced adherence to style guides, still use the archaic construction "Web site.") Almost every movie has one — still, in 2011 — but it's hard to imagine what anyone uses them for, other than as a semi-convenient means of watching a movie's trailer (which is almost always easier to find by visiting an aggregation site like those hosted by Apple and Yahoo!). Seriously, ask yourself, when is the last time you went to a movie Web site to look at early photos, or read a plot synopsis, or join a community, or even just see what was there? And yet there's a line item in every movie budget — still, in 2011 — that says something like, "Create Web site. Include trailer, synopsis, photos. Game?"

I mention all of this because I'm a tad confused as to why I find it so charming that The Princess Bride has an honest-to-Pete official Web site. It's right there, on the Internet, just like the movie was going to come out at Thanksgiving, or Christmas. This is a movie that was released in 1987. The Internet was six guys in a room at Los Alamos in 1987. Infoseek hadn't even been invented in 1987. AltaVista returned the same three hits for every search in 1987, and two of them were Al Gore's e-mail address. At what point in the last 24 years did someone with legal jurisdiction over The Princess Bride find himself, while staring at a Web browser, suddenly sitting beneath a blinking light bulb? Hey, it's only negative 13 years until the movie opens, we could really use an official Web site. Or maybe it was: Guys, guys, I finally figured out that line item in the budget! No wonder we still have $251,003.26 on the books.

The site itself is pretty basic. I mean, you're not gonna believe this, but you can look at photos from the movie. Or play a game. Or join a community. And there's official movie merchandise for sale. Some of you just said, "Aha!" but I'm not buying it. Either the official movie merchanidise, or its presence as an explanation for the site's existence. Sure, it's cool to think about owning the official, limited edition, 1:1 scale prop replica of the Dread Pirate Roberts's sword, but how many people have actually seen that and reached for their credit card? Inconceivable! Frankly, I'm not even going to bookmark the site, or probably ever go there again, let alone buy a ringtone, or take a trivia quiz. And despite all of that, it makes me just a tiny bit giddy that there's an official Princess Bride Web site. Not some half-(glassed) fan site. Not a random page on Facebook. It's the official movie Web site.

It occurs to me that I've written this far into a post about a 24-year-old movie and I'm just expecting that everyone knows what it is. People born the year that The Princess Bride was released could have graduated from college by now. If they're Mark Zuckerberg (who's not actually young enough, though it's close), then they could have dropped out of Harvard, alienated friends, rivals and non-existent ex-girlfriends who go to BU, and accrued billions of dollars by now. I just assume that all of those people know about Westley and Buttercup, about Inigo, Fezzik and Vizzini, about the Pit of Despair and the Cliffs of Insanity, about the shrieking eels and the Rodents of Unusual Size, because how do you not have encyclopedic knowledge of something as awesome as The Princess Bride? It's not just a movie. It's one of my vital organs. And now it has an official Web site. And that makes me a little jazzed. Because if there's a Web site, then someone, somwhere, realized at some point that there's a critical mass of people out there who recognize the sound of ultimate suffering, or who would sooner destroy a stained glass window than an artist like yourself. Still. In 2011.

Get me to the church on time

PREVIEW REVIEW: Somebody's getting married (and it's not the Muppets)

LINKS: Breaking Dawn official Web site; take a stand with Mitt against vampires

Nobody ever asks political debate participants the really tough questions. The 2012 Republican presidential contenders held their first debate on Monday night in New Hampshire, and we still don't know what candidate and self-confessed Twilight aficionado Mitt Romney thinks of the new trailer for Breaking Dawn, Part I. Here's what I think of the new trailer: How the heck did it take them until 40 seconds in to work in a shot of a shirtless Taylor Lautner in the rain? What's up with the I'm-so-sexy supermodel chick thumpity-thumping along in her high heels to deliver a message to her leering Volturi masters? You're selling the flick to teenage girls, fellas. Making them wait 40 seconds to salivate over Taylor Lautner's cartoonishly sculpted abs is like telling 4-year-olds you have candy for them, and then it turns out to be black licorice. You're just being cruel.

Speaking of Jacob Black, he's kind of a big whiny baby, but don't you think it might be at least a little bit cool if you could just run really fast and turn into a giant wolf every time something ticked you off? Sorry I came to dinner naked, honey. I wore clothes to work, but then I didn't get a raise and I destroyed my outfit by running real fast and turning into a huge wolf. I tried to pick something up at the GAP, but they don't have any fitting rooms for enormous wolves. Half of the trailer is people getting invitations to Bella and Edward's wedding, but Jacob is the only person whose reaction is even a little bit interesting. At any rate, it's a nice day for a white wedding, but couldn't somebody have handed Bella a Kleenex? Not because she's crying. Freeze the trailer at exactly 1:09 and tell me what you think is coming out of her nose.

There's not much dialogue in the trailer, and maybe there shouldn't have been any at all. Back when Twilight first showed up in theaters, I actually gave Robert Pattinson a thumbs up for his acting, but man is that guy a block of wood. Even Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic might not have been able to sell a slab of romantic hyperbole like, "No measure of time with you would be long enough — but we'll start with forever." At least he wouldn't have sounded like he was saying it to a bowl of oatmeal, though, or a bag of grass clippings. It might have been better to just turn the whole thing over to the Dollar Store Chorus. You know, the guys in the background of every other trailer ever made (including this one) who do that rhythmic synchronized chanting that could make a stack of waffles seem dramatic. I saw something once where it sounded like they were saying "all-a-dolla, all-a-dolla," and they've been the Dollar Store Chorus, at least in my head, ever since.

Also, I know there's kind of an angry vampires tossing people around vibe in the second half of the trailer, but what's with Volturi Secretary Girl getting turned into a human boomerang by some ticked off vampire overlord? It's kind of grim, for one thing, but also how is what's-her-name remotely important enough to the story to get two solid appearances in a not-quite-two-minute trailer? Don't the filmmakers have better things to show us, like helicopter shots of the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio? Ha, ha, I meant better things like Bella and Edward being terrified that they forgot to use protection when he doesn't even have a full-time job with benefits yet. Honestly, though, if there's not already a dude in Rio who owns a helicopter and does nothing but sell aerial pans of the Christ the Redeemer statue to film studios, then I need to enroll in helicopter school today.

A fine country for old men

VIDEO VAULT: Riding the high country with Jeff Bridges in the role of Rooster Cogburn

FRESHNESS RATING: Mild-saddle-soreness-level SPOILERS for True Grit

I made the argument a couple of years ago in one of the Year in Movies write-ups that I do for the Daily Herald every last week in December that anyone who sees at least 11 new movies in a given year has a Top 10. My point was that my list of the Top 10 movies of (fill in the year) is no more (or less) definitive than anyone else's. Well, aside from the fact that I am always right about everything. I mention this now because True Grit, my favorite movie of 2010, is newly available this month on DVD and Blu-ray, which is a fine excuse for me to whip out "them two Navy sixes" and charge straight at everyone who hasn't seen the movie until they scatter to Netflix or Redbox and repent of their oversight. I may not be more right that True Grit is the best movie released in 2010 than someone who says it was The King's Speech, or The Social Network, or Inception, but if you go for a man hard enough and fast enough, he don't have time to think about how many's with him — he thinks about himself, and how he might get clear of that wrath that's about to set down on him.

The best way for anyone to have seen True Grit is in a movie theater, with theater sound and towering theater images. There's an arts organization here in town that's showing it on an outdoor screen at a large amphitheater as part of a late-night summer series, and I considered getting tickets to the entire series just so I could see True Grit riding tall across a theater-size screen one last time. (Turns out I'll be out of town. Curse you, preplanned vacation schedule!) If all you have is a flat-panel television, however, or even just a large computer monitor for Internet streaming, then a Texas Ranger with an unruly cowlick probably ought to give you five or six good licks with his belt that will have to do. If you've heard anything about "the new" True Grit, then you probably already know that Hailee Steinfeld (who was just 13 when she made the movie; younger, even, than her character) gives a deservedly Oscar-nominated performance as Mattie Ross, the steel-spined farmgirl who hires dissolute marshal Reuben "Rooster" Cogburn to track and capture the hired man who killed her father.

Steinfeld is fantastic, but Jeff Bridges, who also got an Oscar nomination, one that was viewed in some quarters as being largely an echo of the glory showered on a recent winner, is even better. Everyone in the movie benefits from the wonderfully precise 19th-century dialogue that Joel and Ethan Coen (who wrote, directed and edited the movie together) give the characters, but nobody chews it up and spits it out better than Bridges. When True Grit first showed up, many viewers (including a wide swath of critics) accused him of merely growling, and even garbling, his lines. To which I respond, "Bull," and also tharfnurressontuhsitthissunout. Frankly, I think it's a huge part of Rooster's charm that he's a talker, and a huge part of the movie's charm that he somewhat petulantly finds himself outclassed in that regard by Matt Damon's loquacious LaBeouf (to the point of playfully offering a particular remedy for an injury the Texas lawman suffers in an ambush). Did I mention that there's a lot of great acting in the movie? Because I don't think many people would have balked if Damon had gotten a nomination of his own.

There's probably a not inconsiderable segment of viewers who had no truck with True Grit simply because they like the John Wayne version. It so happens that I like the John Wayne version, actually. I grew up liking it. I still like it. And yes, Rooster Cogburn was a good role for Wayne. Anyone who has seen both movies and prefers the older one will get no further pestering from yours truly. Why would you pass up a story and characters that you know are terrific, however, just because somebody else did it well first? A couple of years ago I saw an especially transcendent production of Cyrano de Bergerac at the Utah Shakespeare Festival (which was called the Utah Shakespearean Festival at the time). I could have skipped it, I suppose (not really; I was on assignment), because I'd already seen the French film version with Gerard Depardieu. If I had, however, I would have been passing up this (you have to scroll down a bit). So yeah, I get it: Everybody loves John Wayne. Just don't let your fond memories of saddling up for this adventure with the Duke prevent you from taking a heck of a ride with the Dude.

Counting down to Lights out

SOMETIMES I WATCH TV: In which viewers have been egging on Two and a Half Men for nine seasons, but Coach Taylor can't even get to 77 total episodes

Before his head was exploded by a violent torpedo of truth, Charlie Sheen was the highest-paid actor on television because of the apparently hypnotic attraction of something called Two and a Half Men. I confess that I have never watched a moment of it. Perhaps I would find it incisive and witty. Perhaps I will also discover the cure for cancer while staring at my breakfast cereal tomorrow morning. My point is that why is Two and a Half Men so important that CBS didn't even blink at paying Ashton Kutcher to replace Sheen and keep it around, but three years ago NBC couldn't be bothered to hang on to Friday Night Lights until DirecTV stepped in to assume a fat chunk of its production costs? Yes, I get the dollars and cents of it: Millions of people misguidedly love Men, ergo CBS will do anything to save its ratings dominance. And Lights doesn't rack up the numbers, ergo the East Dillon High School football program is about to vanish (again).

Say it ain't so, Coach Taylor! Nobody needed (or needs) more than one — or maybe two-and-a-half — seasons of Two and a Half Men. The world of television, however, will always need flawed, complex, resolute, passionate and fascinating characters like Eric and Tammy Taylor. There are five episodes left in the now-unfolding fifth season of Friday Night Lights, which NBC has long since announced it will not renew. The first season of the show got a full order of 22 episodes, but the writer's strike cut the second season down to 15, and the show-salvaging deal with DirecTV capped production at 13 episodes each of the past three seasons. So Friday Night fans have already been cheated, and now they're getting the ultimate stiff arm. I'm sure there's a future for the show's cast members elsewhere on the tube or in movies: Kyle Chandler is probably the biggest "name" in the cast of the J.J. Abrams monster movie Super 8, which opens Friday.

I don't want to see Connie Britton play a caring pediatrician, though, or catch Jurnee Smollet as a dog-walker with crazy roommates, or occasionally see Brad Leland in a random guest-starring role on Sitcom A or Legal Drama B. I want more Buddy Garrity. I want more Luke Cafferty. I want more of everyone from Dallas Tinker and Mac Macgill to Becky Sproles and Billy Riggins. Mostly I want more of Coach and Tammy. Some shows have run their course by the time they get canceled. And Friday Night Lights got much more time to empty out its playbook than many other bright ideas. (My least favorite thing about TV is how frequently it's the moron-level stuff that sticks when networks throw things against the ratings wall in pilot season.) We've had a good long time to settle in in Dillon, and yet I still feel like I just got to town. I haven't even unpacked all of my boxes! Five more episodes?! I could watch the Taylors teach truth to troubled teenagers for five more seasons and not get bored.

Nathan Fillion recently (and briefly) made a few entertainment headlines by suggesting that, if money were no object, he'd acquire the rights to Firefly, the late, lamented sci-fi TV series that launched him to television cult stardom, and produce new episodes himself. Much as I loved Fillion and his rowdy crew in Firefly, however, if I had the power to save or bring back just one show on television, it would be LOST. OK, not really. For better or worse, polar bears, donkey wheels, animate John Locke cadavers and all, it told the story it had to tell. I might fret a little about never having gotten a Matt Santos presidency out of The West Wing. And I'd definitely agonize about using my one-time-only magic wand on Firefly, which got yanked when it had barely begun to spread its wings. When the TV fairy started to tap her watch and shoot me dirty looks, however, I'd check the scoreboard, nervously fold my playbook in half and then look her in the eye and say, "Get me Coach Taylor."

Now with More Parts!

BREAKING BROKEN NEWS: Along came The Hobbit ... and The Hobbit — release dates and titles announced

FRESHNESS RATING: Come on, who hasn't read The Hobbit? Not to worry, P.J.'s not using the book anyway, just its title (and fan base)

Yes, I know, Peter Jackson is just as big a fan of Middle-earth as the rest of us. I kid because I care, Pete, and also because, come on, didn't you feel a little bit bad about the whole warg attack/Aragorn goes over the cliff thing in The Two Towers? About Arwen rescuing Frodo at the Ford of Bruinen? About Faramir becoming some sort of dad-pleasing wimptoast who tries to march Frodo and Sam to Minas Tirith? (The most unintentionally funny line in all three films is still Sam's wailing in Osgiliath during the made-up pretend minions of Sauron attack that never really happened, "By rights we shouldn't even be here!" Boy, you said it, Samwise.) About Treebeard, Gimli and probably half a dozen other characters I'm not recalling at the moment being turned into comic relief caricatures? I could keep this up for at least an entire blog post, but the point is that several days ago, probably back before the newest version of the iPhone (fine, fine it was on May 30), P.J. and Warner Bros. announced that The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey will be released Dec. 14, 2012.

In other news — wait, wait, what do you mean? The Hobbit doesn't have a part two. I promise. I've read it. Say what? Huh? Oh. Well then, I guess the whole "subtitle" thing makes a bit more sense. Also, The Hobbit: There and Back Again will be released Dec. 13, 2013. OK, fine, yeah, I knew months and months ago that Wacko Jacko, like Guillermo del Toro before him, had this thing slated for two movies. It's the new math in Hollywood. If you know a movie is going to make a billion dollars, or at least several hundred million dollars, then why back the money truck up to theaters just once? Cut your screenplay in half, make two movies, and back that sucker up again! The Harry Potter guys are doing it with the Deathly Hallows, and probably kicking themselves that they didn't think of this years ago. The Twilight people are doing it with Breaking Dawn, and definitely kicking themselves that they didn't think of this years ago. Wait, there are only four books?! She didn't write any others? There wasn't any more story to tell? No more pages and pages (and pages) of tortured longing or impassioned pleading? Don't vampires live (and love) forever? CUUUURSE YOOOOOU, STEPHENIE MEYER!!!

So, anyway, it's the hip new thing. I'm waiting for the inevitable next step, when, say, it's announced that Breaking Dawn Part II will be broken into Parts I and II. I'm picturing a Valentine's Day 2014 release for Breaking Dawn Part II, Part I — Bella and Edward's Honeymoon: Yes We Need a Whole Movie For That. Hey, Hollywood, did you know that if draw a line, and then travel only half the remaining distance between yourself and the line each time you move toward it, you never. cross. the. line? It's true. Kristen Stewart could work on Breaking Dawn movies until she's literally as old Edward is when Bella meets him in the first book. (Hint: He's freaking old.) At any rate, the point is that this whole Part I / Part II thing is lame, but not nearly as lame as 3-D. So if you can only get rid of one crass gimmick to grab more dollars from long-suffering moviegoers, then keep the two-part heist rolling and stop making movies in pointless 3-D.

Incidentally, both parts of The Hobbit are being released in 3-D. Some days, I don't know why I even try.

A not-so-sweet 17

REVIEW, TAKE TWO: Further reflections on 17 Miracles

LINKS: Daily Herald review of 17 Miracles

The writer in me is convinced that you can tell an interesting story about almost anything. And if your story is fact-based, then a lot of the heavy lifting has already been done. You just have find the right angle. That's part of what's frustrating about 17 Miracles, which opened Friday exclusively at theaters in Utah and envisions the ill-starred journey from Iowa to Salt Lake City of the 19th-century Mormon handcart companies led by James G. Willie and Edward Martin. Writer-director T.C. Christensen has two great angles, and probably could have made a wonderful film using either of them. The missionary and frontiersman Levi Savage is a fascinating historical figure and worthy subject for a film. And pondering the nature of miracles, particularly in a setting where people would have been desperate to stumble into them, is also an idea with a lot of potential. Is there a great film that could have been made by weaving those two angles together? Maybe. Looking at 17 Miracles, it's much easier to imagine how they would have been better handled separately. Other thoughts:

Humor is a funny thing: Almost all of the tension breakers in 17 Miracles are either too broad (like Levi's inadvertently pulling wax out of his ear in front of a lovely pioneer lady) or too precious (an apple-cheeked blonde moppet in a lumpy cap munching on a not-entirely-desiccated buffalo chip).

Loud and clear: One thing Christensen handles well in 17 Miracles is his frank depiction of Mormon elders conducting religious rites. There are a couple of times when the leaders of the handcart company bless the sick, or pray for the dying, and Christensen puts actual words of prayer in their mouths that sound both appropriately sincere and worshipful, and authentically spontaneous.

Boot scootin' boogy: Yes, there's a scene of a hoedown. Of course there's a scene of a hoedown. Did you really think a movie about hardy pioneer settlers in the American West wouldn't have at least one hoedown?

Dwarfed by his peers: There's a (historical?) little person depicted in the film who has a squeaky vocal register and adorably chipper demeanor. The camera practically pinches his cheek every time he gamely totters past on his nifty wooden crutches. You can't help but wonder, on the other hand, what might have been going through actor Travis Eberhard's head when he had to deliver a speech in which his character, Albert, laments the fact that everyone who meets him views him as being at least somewhat ridiculous on account of his physical limitations. The whole thing stings a bit more since the movie itself contains more than one joke at the expense of Albert's small stature.

Cue the violins: There are movies where the score is generally more notable by its absence than by its presence, and this is one of them. This or that character can scarcely open their mouth without swelling music suddenly rising up all around. Throughout most of the film, there seems to be a general terror that moviegoers might have an unprompted emotional response. I cringed most, however, during a scene that was backed by soaring (and generically inspiring) vocals either from the actual Josh Groban, or from someone trying very hard to sound like Josh Groban. Possibly in the role of Jean Valjean.

Fincher has trailer, Girl has tattoo, I has blog

This is Rooney Mara. You're about to not recognize her at all. At. All.

PREVIEW REVIEW: Nothing says "Happy holidays!" like a Girl with a Dragon Tattoo (U.S.)

LINKS: Official Dragon Tattoo (U.S.) trailer on iTunes

Who has cheezburger? I apologize for the long winter's nap that the blog has taken this week. Weeks that have a Monday holiday tend to wreak havoc with the ol' work schedule. Speaking of wreaking havoc, how about the positively grimy new teaser for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the U.S. adaptation of Stieg Larsson's best-selling novel? I haven't read the book (which was allegedly intended to be the first of 10, and ended up being the first of three after Larsson suffered an untimely heart attack six years ago), and haven't seen the Swedish film version that raced around the arthouse circuit last year. My interest in this one is mostly in terms of its pedigree. The U.S. Girl is in the hands of director David Fincher, whose last film, The Social Network, was a firing-on-all-cylinders snapshot of generational flux. The leads are Daniel Craig, whose wolfish intensity is always interesting, and Rooney Mara, who hasn't done much, but was excellent in her couple of scenes in The Social Network.

My first instinct was to knock this trailer for how little it reveals about the movie's story, but on second (and third, and fourth) viewing, I started to admire, and then be fascinated by, how much information it's able to get across unaided by dialogue. Even if I knew nothing about the story — and I don't know all that much — and had never seen the actors before, I could pick out Craig as the convention-defying investigative somebody or other with almost no trouble at all. Stellan Skarsgaard has one beat near the start where the camera holds on his face as he's coming through a door and you just know he's up to something creepy. They're definitely playing up Craig at the expense of Mara's Lisbeth Salander — my understanding is that they're essentially co-protagonists — but she does have the title of the movie going for her, after all. And Craig is the only guy in the cast who's likely to register in the short-term memory that people who aren't me (or aren't like me) typically devote to movies. Maybe Christopher Plummer for some. I feel pretty confident that his character is at least sinister, if not purely evil, incidentally.

The music, a driving arrangement of Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" by Trent Reznor (with vocals by indie rocker Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs) is brilliant. (The bit at the end with the heavy beat behind each title is a particularly clever blend of sound and typeface.) I often wonder why so many filmmakers sign off on trailers that thunder at us with the billionth rousing arrangement of the this-or-that chorale belting out something by Beethoven or Handel, or use generically iconic film scores that distract you into thinking, "Where is that from?" when you should be watching the images. Trust me, trailer dudes, having a unique aural signature is priceless. Reznor and Atticus Ross, who did an amazing score for Fincher with The Social Network, are filling the same role on Girl and this is a clear signal that they've got another winner on their hands.

See? See? What did I tell you?

And, oh yeah, the poster art. This is the poster art, or at least some of it. Lisbeth Salander and Craig's Mikael Blomkvist are actually partners in crime solving in the film, but this pose makes it seem like he's a crazed punk-grrrl stalker on the edge of a rooftop and a police negotiator is 30 feet away saying soothing things through a bullhorn while the sarge furiously motions to the SWAT guys trying to get a clean shot from the bank tower across the street. Take it down a notch, D.C.; if you make that face too many times it's going to freeze like that. (Whoops, too late.) Oh, and this is only the "safe for iTunes" version of the poster art, bee-tee-double-you. Mara is topless and wearing exceedingly low-slung leather pants in the poster that is probably already grimacing at you from the lobby of the neighborhood multiplex. Craig's arm and the typeface that gives the film's release date are protecting Mara's modesty, much as Custer protected the U.S. position at Little Bighorn. Should you chance to meet Mikael and Lisbeth by the snack counter, avert your eyes.