“Blue, you’re my boy!”
–Will Ferrell in OLD SCHOOL

“I see Blue. He looks glorious!”
–ibid

MOVIES
Having been thrown a curveball early in the year with the birth of a third child, I saw fewer movies in 2005 than I have since before I got my driver’s license. So I haven’t seen all the indie flicks or year-end Oscar hopefuls. So bear in mind my lists are not all-inclusive. Plus, I probably forgot something; I don’t write this crap down throughout the year.

Here are the five movies I loved the most:
• THE 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN – Watched it again just the other night. Totally held up for me.
• MURDERBALL – I’ve been telling everybody about this documentary. They all look at me like I’m crazy. They’re the crazy ones.
• BATMAN BEGINS – Easily the best Batman movie ever made. Angry Batman should always be the way to go.
• WEDDING CRASHERS – The year’s other great comedy, equally as filthy and charming. Vince Vaughn is a comedy god (BE COOL notwithstanding).
• FRANK MILLER’S SIN CITY – So visually groundbreaking that the Academy just had to ignore it when compiling their shortlist for Best Visual Effects. Their loss.

And here are the eight I liked the least:
• BEWITCHED – There are some movies so bad, even Steve Carell can’t save them.
• KING KONG – I know I’m in the minority here, but I’m sticking to my guns. And the more time passes, the more I think that even if Peter Jackson had trimmed his movie by a full hour, it would still lack a soul.
• THE DUKES OF HAZZARD – Completely laughless for the 20 minutes I could stomach. But I still feel like I saw the whole thing.
• THE ISLAND – I love Scarlett Johansson. But geez Louise, not this much.
• THE RING TWO – The first one: “Boo!” This one: “Boo-hoo!”
• STEALTH – Inexplicably, Rob Cohen out-Michael-Bays Michael Bay.
• THE AMITYVILLE HORROR – This tired remake makes the formerly just-okay original look like a mansion.
• THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY – For me, “British humor” is the new “jumbo shrimp.”

TELEVISION
I don’t watch all that much TV, but what I do, I really like:
• THE OFFICE – If you’re still comparing it to the UK original, shut up already. This has broken out on its own, and if Ricky Gervais can call it better than his, you can, too.
• MY NAME IS EARL – What sounded stupid on paper is white-trash comedy gold. With a heart. Sometimes too much heart, but still pretty un-PC for network television.
• ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT – Its third and final season isn’t quite as good as the other two, but it’s still going out without having made a single bad episode. Jason Bateman = very funny. Who knew?
• PRISON BREAK – This completely filled 24’s absence for weekly escapist action-adventure. Logically preposterous, but so much fun. Can’t wait ’til March for it to pick back up.
• 30 DAYS – If only Morgan Spurlock’s documentary series would be shown to everyone in America, the world would be a better place, and that is not hyperbole.
• SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE’s “Lazy Sunday” – Now a bonafide Internet phenomenon (now free on iTunes!), and quite possibly the most clever 2.5 minutes TV has seen all year. The more SNL yields to the new guys (and the new girl), the better it’s getting.

As for the worst, I tend not to waste my time, but BRITNEY & KEVIN: CHAOTIC remains the most insufferable 30 minutes I spent this year, followed closely by BEING BOBBY BROWN and its crazy crack-ho antics.

MUSIC
I’ve been pretty down on music for the last year, not finding nearly as much enjoyment from it as I used to, quite possibly because the number of bad CDs I heard just wore me down. However, sometimes something clicks with me, and when it does, it clicks big. Like:
• The New Pornographers: TWIN CINEMA – Their last one hooked me so much it literally played in my dreams. So did this.
• The Go! Team: THUNDER LIGHTNING STRIKE – The best pep rally ever.
• Doves: SOME CITIES – Better than Coldplay, minus the gayness.
• The Killers: HOT FUSS – This is kind of cheating since it came out in 2004, but 2005 is the year it really broke out, deservedly.

It’s hard to pick out any albums as being the worst, but Dave Matthews Band’s STAND UP sticks out. It’s the one that totally has them buying their own frat-boy press.

BOOKS
Our sister site Bookgasm has lots of year-end coverage, including the best and worst books, eight great sci-fi books and 10 anticipated books of 2006, among other articles of interest.

So what about you? In these and other categories, discuss away!

One of the better compilations I’ve heard all year isn’t even an official release. Xtabay has lovingly assembled EXPO 2000 for your end-of-the-year pleasure. It’s full of spacey type things, like Vangelis’ BLADE RUNNER end titles, John Barry’s BLACK HOLE theme, Tomita’s “Mars,” Kraftwerk’s title track, Kitaro’s “Mysterious Island” and songs from Henry Mancini, Wendy Carlos, Logan’s Sanctuary and Stereophonic Space Sound Unlimited, among others. Sixteen tracks in all, and not a dud to be found.

Apparently William Shatner isn’t pulling down enough off BOSTON LEGAL gig and all those STAR TREK residuals. He’s done gone and started himself a DVD club! Yes, for just $4 a DVD, you can receive a new sci-fi, fantasy or horror movie each month featuring such greats as Stephen Furst, Kari Wuhrer and Dean Cain. On the site, the Shat claims to have “personally chosen a select group of movies” to find his “personal favorites.” He neglects to mention the obvious “that have been clogging up a warehouse for quite some time” qualifier. There are some clubs you should never join – the KKK, NAMBLA and now this. Thanks to Louis for the link/warning.

When I first saw Vincent Schiavelli in a movie (it was probably FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH), I remember thinking, “What’s wrong with his face?” I assumed he was deformed or something. He wasn’t, of course, but his distinctive mug served him well, in movies as varied as BETTER OFF DEAD, BATMAN RETURNS and AMADEUS. He was once married to Allyce Beasley, the ditzy receptionist on TV’s MOONLIGHTING; I remember thinking they made a good match. They didn’t last, though, so what do I know? He died the day after Christmas, all too young, of lung cancer.

Time to make the donuts … in heaven.

The real-life Brothers Grimm are responsible for some of the greatest, most beloved stories of all time. The movie THE BROTHERS GRIMM barely has a story at all.

Matt Damon and Heath Ledger play the legendary brothers, Wilhelm and Jacob, not as writers of folklore but as frauds posing as ghostbusters. They make their living scamming villagers by promising to exterminate ghosts and hauntings that don’t really exist. When several children turn up missing, the Grimms are suspected of having something to do with it. They don’t, but vow to help get them back. It all has to do with forest trees that walk and a haggard old queen played by Monica Belluci, but to be honest, I’ve wiped most of it from my memory, despite having seen it just five days ago.

Like pretty much all Terry Gilliam films, it’s long on looks and short on logic. Visually reminiscent of SLEEPY HOLLOW but saddled with a script that’s neither suspenseful, funny nor anything but leaden, THE BROTHERS GRIMM has nowhere to go, yet takes it sweet-ass time (two hours!) getting there. It’s an embarassment to all involved; don’t you be one of them.

Two years ago at this time, Lawrence Kasdan’s DREAMCATCHER was mentioned on many a critic’s year-end top 10 list … of the worst films of 2003, that is. Having been intrigued by the terrific trailer, I thought it couldn’t possibly be that bad. In fact, as I finally watched it this weekend, I spent a good deal of the first hour thinking, “What’s wrong with this? So far, it’s really good.” And then one of the main characters brings home a frostbitten fat man who farts a lot and has a toothy eel-type creature come out his butt. From there, DREAMCATCHER – adapted from a Stephen King novel – literally goes into the shitter.

It’s not all that often you can pinpoint when a film turns into a rancid failure, but ass monsters prove the exception. The movie is about four friends (Jason Lee, Timothy Olyphant, Thomas Jane and Damian Lewis) who go to a cabin one winter for a guy’s weekend. Then the rectal aliens show up, the place is quarantined and Morgan Freeman shows up as a military man ready to kick some butt. Did I mention the four friends have the gift of telepathy, given to them by a retarded friend in their childhood? Nope? Damn. Because that sends this already derailed train even further down Credibility Mountain.

And yet, I kinda wish I would’ve seen DREAMCATCHER in theaters, if only to participate in the audience’s collective howl that had to ensue at the ridiculous ending. That’s when the retarded friend (now played by Donnie Wahlberg; insert your own joke here) is called in to save the world against the butt weasles. Bald from leukemia and dressed in every color of the rainbow, Wahlberg limps in to the room, faces the monster and says in that stereotypical mentally handicapped voice with nary a shred of irony, “Scooby Dooby Doo … we got some work to do now!” I had to watch that part three times.

Kasdan has made some excellent films as a director – THE ACCIDENTAL TOURIST, GRAND CANYON, THE BIG CHILL – which makes this extreme misfire all the more beguiling.

For SHAOLIN DOLEMITE, legendary shock comedian Rudy Ray Moore simply took a chunk of the ’80s kung fu film NINJA: THE FINAL DUEL, dubbed it over with new “funny” dialogue and inserted a few minutes of footage of himself into it. So now a film that really didn’t have a storyline to begin with has even less of one.

Moore never met a “muthafucka” he didn’t like, so every other line is a profanity-filled one, not exactly original. Characters are given new names like Ninja Ho (she’s the one who fights topless) and Sam the Spliff. Moore is basically himself. Sad thing is, with giant spiders and trap-door ninjas, the unsullied NINJA: THE FINAL DUEL is really quite something to see (consult our review from a few years back if you don’t believe us). Here, though shorter, it’s tougher to watch. The effect of Moore’s hand grows maddening tiresome.

SHAOLIN DOLEMITE is one-half of a KUNG FU THEATER double-feature disc. So if you look at it merely as a bonus for the markedly more entertaining BLACK SAMURAI, the disc is still worth a purchase.

“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’ That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

For once, there’s a radio advertisement that doesn’t lie. Over the past week, I’ve heard several airings of a spot for a local liquor store called Pancho’s Liquor Town. In a completely irony-free manner, the ad suggests giving hooch and booze as a holiday gift, because “it will put a light in their eyes and a smile on their face.” Truer words? Never spoken. They just didn’t have time for “and a hole in their liver.”

If you’re like the average American, you’ll likely spend some time this holiday season curled up to the cathode rays of IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, A CHRISTMAS STORY or MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET. But as a HITCH reader, you’re an above-average American. So why not deck those halls with Christmas-themed viewing fare that’s more spiked than spirited?

We’ll get you well on your merry little way…

BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)
‘Tis the Season: To be freaky. Before Bob Clark directed A CHRISTMAS STORY, he did its polar opposite, one of the earliest slasher films, complete with a killer hiding in a sorority house. The maniac breaks into the Kappa house just before Christmas break and takes refuge in the attic, emerging now and then to kill a girl. On top of this, the girls are terrorized further by a series of graphic telephone calls.
This Movie Gave to Me: A case of the shivers, because the mysterious phone calls are disturbingly unintelligible.
And What to My Wondering Eyes Should Appear: Certainly not the killer, who’s never shown or named, only adding to the film’s unsettling feeling.

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Hitch’s own Louis Fowler has assembled his annual Christmas compilation (in true Peter Jackson fashion, right down to the wire) and shares it with you, dear Hitch reader. In his own words: “25 cheesy holiday tracks celebrating the birth of our Lord in one party-ready CD! This is my Xmas gift to YOU! No returns!”

With tracks from Pee-wee Herman, Charo, Stryper, Dr. Dre, Sarah Silverman, David Hasselhoff and the Kids of Widney High (not to mention the well-earned parental advisory warning), who’d want to return it? Download it now while the gettin’s good.

As a kid, I always wanted to buy those kids superhero story LPs you’d find at TG&Y or other chintzy retail stores. My mom would never buy them for me, for whatever reason.

I can forgive her partially now that The Hungover Gourmet has posted the 1977 album SUPERMAN / WONDER WOMAN / BATMAN: EXCITING CHRISTMAS STORIES for download. But only partially.

Thanks to Dan for the link!

Listen to the Muzak: Christmas is here again.

Only with everyone still feeling the pinch of recent gas prices, who can afford it?

You can, that’s who. How, you ask? We offer two words, Mr. High Maintenance: Dollar Tree. With 10 greater metro locations to serve you, Dollar Tree plays home to an ever-rotating stock of retail goods, all priced at exactly a buck, in nearly every department imaginable, with something sure to please even the toughest members of your hastily scrawled gift list. In these modern times, its sheer fiscal soundness ranks directly alongside Ramen noodles.

Okay, granted – so maybe you can’t go home with, say, a microwave oven, but you can make out like a bandit with lots of littler items, and everybody knows that – as with pizza, beer and lovemaking – quantity trumps quality. This article can guide you toward suitable presents for 10 different recipient groups, with not a single item carrying a price tag of more than 100 pennies.

Besides, if you’ve waited this long, you’re up a creek anyway. Here’s your paddle.

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Music doesn’t get much softer or more soothing than the melodic, earthy tunes from the boy-girl duo Isobella. On SURROGATE EMOTIONS OF THE SILVERSCREEN, their light indie sound is natural, pure and beautiful, displaying a sound similar to The Cranberries and Enya. Quite relaxing and dreamy, each song possesses a low-key, yet skilled, tone in the vocals and great diversity and talent in the wide arrangement of instruments. Isobella exemplifies beauty in their music and their lovely melodies are peace to the ears. This is especially true with their ending track, “For Madmen Only.” This song’s gentleness will set your mind at ease and takes you to a deep trance state of relaxation and meditation. –Andrea Aycock

Got some down time? Of course you do. Esquire Magazine currently offers a great way to kill that time while staving off Alzheimer’s in the form of The Hardest Quiz Ever. They’re not joking – it’s tough! But, unlike the SATs, it’s fun, too, even if you do feel like an idiot afterward.

You can download the quiz as a PDF here and then get the answers – when you’re done, cheater! – here.

I just returned a phone call from my father, who turned 65 last month. He told me, “If you ever get a chance to see PRISONERS OF LOVE, go see it. It is the funniest movie. People were just cracking up. I’d like to see it again because people were laughing so much, you couldn’t hear what was going on. It was one of those kind of movies.”

“PRISONERS OF LOVE?” I said. “I’ve never heard of it. Who’s in it?”

“Oh, Matthew Broderick. And Will Ferrell.”

“You mean THE PRODUCERS?”

“Well, I thought the ticket said PRISONERS OF LOVE.”

If you’re looking for a really good movie to watch over the Christmas break, your honor, may I submit into evidence: MURDERBALL. Not only is it the best documentary I’ve seen all year, it may be the best movie I’ve seen all year. There is more humor, suspense and emotion in this little film than most scripted ones.

MURDERBALL is all about the sport of quadriplegic wheelchair rugby, in which the handicapped-be-damned whirl around a court in specially rigged, MAD MAX-esque wheelchairs and slam the hell into each other, to try and keep opponents from scoring, which is performed by taking the ball to the end of the court. In particular, the film focuses on Team USA, vying for a gold at the Paralympics in Greece. Adding an extra level of drama is that their rival Team Canada is now being coached by their former fellow teammate, Joe Soares, who was so mad when he failed to make the U.S. team that he essentially defected.

All of the players are interesting and could probably merit a feature-length film of their own, but MURDERBALL’s real heart lies in Mark Zupan, the tattooed, goateed player who never looks down at himself or lets his condition get in the way. As one of his high school classmates remarks, “Mark was an asshole before the accident.” You can keep your Michael Jordan; if there’s a true hero in sports, it’s Zupan.

MURDERBALL has huge laughs, yet it also is one of the few films that made me cry. It’s poignant, infectious, heartwarming and heartbreaking. If this doesn’t win the Oscar this spring for Best Documentary Feature, it’ll be a crime. Zupan and his teammates could wheel right over those damn penguins, anyway.

Tomorrow, one of those ESPN channels – I think it’s The Ocho – broadcasts the 2005 NATIONAL SCRABBLE CHAMPIONSHIP. If you’ve read the excellent book WORD FREAK or seen the pretty good movie WORD WARS, you know what this means: cranky antisocial misfits! Shaking bags of tiles!