Even though I saw 127 Hours a couple weeks ago at the (awesome) Austin Film Festival, it’s stuck to me like that boulder stuck to James Franco’s character’s arm. In this instance, that’s a good thing. Even if movies can’t always change lives, they can often change perspective. In this country, those of us who are fortunate need a wake-up call every once in a while. Danny Boyle and his star surprisingly good one-man show provide us with that and more. 127 Hours is funnier and more poignant than you’d expect judging by its premise. You’ll walk out feeling alive.

In the past two-and-a-half years, Christopher Nolan put all directors under the age of 45 in check with his one-two punch of The Dark Knight and Inception. In following up The Wrestler with Black Swan (which I was lucky enough to see at the awesome Austin Film Festival), Darren Aronofsky not only pulled a piece back to block the impending attack, he also put Nolan’s own king in check. The film world now has the equivalent of the Fischer-Kasparov dream match the chess world never got. When you consider the entire filmography of each young director, this chess game has been going on longer than we previously realized.

After Black Swan, there is no doubt that Aronofsky is a grandmaster. He effortlessly went from directing a story about a roided-up, has-been pro wrestler who reveals a sensitive side, to one about a perfect little ballerina who goes from Snow White to the Evil Queen. Who else can go from wrastlin’ boots to The Red Shoes? If Nolan has updated the Hitchcockian style for the 21st century, Aronofsky is without a doubt neo-Kubrick. His films are all vastly different; the lone similarities being his visual style along with his uncompromising willingness to take his audience to very dark places in order to reveal truth.

Swan is Aronofsky’s best film. Where Requiem for a Dream made you squirm when you expected it, Swan often made you squirm when you least expected it and was never predictable. The Fountain didn’t have the story to  match its own spectacle. The Wrestler (very much both this film’s companion piece and its polar opposite) didn’t have the scale to match its own story. In Swan, the scale and the story are magnificently equal, resulting in the director’s most accomplished work to date.

The film also heavily draws upon an outstanding cast, but it is Natalie Portman who does most of the heavy lifting, err, dancing. Much like how Vincent Cassel’s choreographer Thomas doubted Portman’s ballerina Nina could pull off  the dark side of the Swan Queen, I came in wondering if Portman could muster the intensity needed to carry this film. Well, I was surprised a night earlier when James Franco strapped 127 Hours to his back, and I was surprised again tonight when Portman made herself a shoe-in for a Best Actress nom. It appears both only needed an opportunity to “stretch” under the right helmer’s direction.

What makes this movie so brilliant isn’t that the ballet company inside the film is performing the famous ballet Swan Lake. It’s that the story they are trying to make spreads beyond the stage and into Nina’s life. The story about ballerinas trying to perform Swan Lake literally becomes Swan Lake. I don’t want to give any more away than that, even though very few of you are likely to be real familiar with Swan Lake anyway. Let’s just say I had high expectations — just like Cassel’s Thomas. And like Thomas I was both equally surprised and shocked when the curtain closed.

ALL ACROSS AMERICA – Farewell to Blockbuster, the former video and DVD monopoly that reportedly left thousands homeless thanks to its ridiculous late fees and new release rates. The movie rental staple is apparently on the verge of bankruptcy, and it appears that nobody is about to throw them a life preserver anytime soon.

Farewell to the company that once charged my brother and I (read: our dad) $177.64 for a late copy of House Party 2, inspiring the two of us — roughly 11 and 9 at the time — to rename the ruthless home video superpower “Cockbuster.” Only Pizza Hut and Taco Bell (Pizza Slut and Toxic Hell) earned more derogatory names during our childhood. The only blue-and-gold entity that’s ever even approached being that overrated is the Michigan football team. That’s not counting Spencer Pratt, who’s gotten his ass beat and pissed himself on many occasions. Back when I was in college, I actually remember answering the phone and hearing a girl’s voice and praying that she said “I’m three weeks late” instead of “Rounders is three weeks late.” Nobody stalks like Blockbuster used to — not even Buzzsaw, Dynamo and Professor Subzero.

Many Americans  well forever hate the Miami Dolphins, because the scumbag who first owned Blockbuster also used to own that team. Thanks a lot, Wayne Huizanga. Ray Finkle is my hero. Your company put pockmarks on our credit reports that were reminiscent of the ones that fill your Noriegaesque cheeks. Was it really that big of a deal that Deep Blue Sea was eight measly days overdue? You should have paid me for renting that piece of garbage, not vice versa. Hell, some of my exes still had dozens of my movies when we split and I just let it go. Your company makes more used to make more in one hour than I’ll probably make in my entire life. Nonetheless, you made your fortune going after each late rental like you were Gollum pursuing the Precious.

Perhaps the reason why most of us will enjoy your inevitable death is because there wasn’t an original bone in your business. Your original model was just to take the existing DVD rental store concept and simply provide more of everything. More space, more copies, more expensive and most of all more late fees. The only things you didn’t provide more of were foreign titles and satisfied customers. I once asked a clerk if they had a foreign section and the employee responded, “I think we have Brazil and Casablanca in stock.” After Netflix realized that people were desperately seeking a Blockbuster alternative and capitalized on the huge potential of DVDs via mail, you ripped them off. Unsuccessfully, I might add. Then Redbox came along and perfected the DVD kiosk and now you’ve attempted to jack their concept as well. It’s so sad that you’ll have installed roughly just over half the DVD rental machines you expected to this year by the time 2010 wraps up. Since you’ve ripped off essentially everyone, we’ll just go ahead and return the favor by ripping off the toe tag before you’re buried six feet under.

Although our hearts will forget you tomorrow, our buttholes will never forget you. I don’t think one of your videotapes — shoved in sideways like our arses were VCR slots, mind you — could have stretched our O-rings out as much as you did with your late fees. Hopefully, your death will not be in vain, and future companies hoping to monopolize a lucrative niche industry by raping decent, hard-working Americans will think twice about doing so. We were simply looking for entertainment. If we wanted to get ripped off we could have filled that void at home by calling the Home Shopping Channel. There was also Hubert the door-to-door vacuum salesman. At least he was struggling to eat and had an excuse.

Good riddance, Blockbuster. You were a yellow company that made millions of us feel blue. Most of us won’t come to the open casket wake you are currently holding at the locations you haven’t yet closed. We might throw a party, however, when the casket is finally slammed shut. Entertainment will of course be provided by Netflix.

P.S. – Netflix, I love you, but if you don’t start giving waiting list priority to the people who actually pay the most instead of the least, we are going to have a problem, too.

I’m currently re-watching Twin Peaks, possibly the greatest TV show of all time. When I saw Peggy Lipton, aka Norma Jennings, this time around I couldn’t help think of another small screen waitress — Daphne Landry of True Blood. My first thought was, damn, she’s aged well. But then I realized that’s impossible given that both actresses played aging waitresses who, in my opinion, were just as hot as any of the younger chicks on their respective shows.

Regardless, the resemblance is uncanny, even a little bit spooky, especially considering they essentially played the same role on two very similar TV shows. Just who are these chicks? I thought you’d ask.

Peggy Lipton is best known for The Mod Squad, Peaks and, yes, being Rashida Jones’ mom. She ended up marrying Quincy Jones after dating Elvis, a fling which ended when she tried to get him to join the church of Scientology. The King wasn’t  down with the Tom Cruise voodoo.

Ashley Jones is best known for playing that weird shapeshifter broad (no, not the really weird one) on True Blood and playing the slutty caterer who banged Craig Kilborn in Old School. You know, the original Daily Show dude. No worries, we forgot he was alive, too. Jones also had a long stint on a well-known soap. The name? Who cares, all those shows are the same. They should just call them Soap No. 1, Soap No. 2, etc. I’ll give her credit, though, she is smoking hot.

Both of these actresses also look like Nancy Taylor from Groundhog Day (not a good photo, but the best I could find), who, ironically enough, Phil Connors first met in a diner. She’s not as hot — partially because she had a hideous wardrobe — but the resemblance is obvious. Well, time for me to go and watch more of a much younger Lipton looking foxy in that turquoise diner dress. Gas wasn’t all Big Ed was pumping. Lucky bastard.

Typecasting. It’s something that happens way too often in Hollywood. Leonardo DiCaprio the vulnerable rebel. Hugh Grant the silly Brit who gets the girl. Reese Witherspoon the adorable blonde. Denzel Washington the detective. Michelle Rodriguez the tough chick. Alec Baldwin the dickhead. It must be hard to spread your wings in Hollywood, with studios likely wanting to go with proven commodities during the casting process.

“Hey, I’ve got it. Let’s get Keaunu Reeves. He’s already played the unlikely hero in sci-fi movies about a half dozen times. What’s one more? He’s proven and his acting isn’t strong enough that it will take away from the whizbang special effects. Plus, he’ll be cheaper, err, more cost effective I mean than Will Smith. People pay to see Keanu do sci-fi!”

Then again, not every actor can be Morgan Freeman. My favorite example of typecasting is when actors are cast as looney tunes, certified wackjobs over and over and over again. That’s why “You So Crazy” will be a new feature here at FlickSided. First up…

Emily Mortimer

Either she’s certifiably nutso or she’s one of the finest actresses working today. My guess is both. Just look at her eyes…

It’s like her right eye is saying, “yes, yes, I love the world, let me see more;” and her left eye is saying, “no, no, goodbye cruel world, I can’t bear to watch.” That look is even more exaggerated on screen. Let’s take a look at some of her roles…

Lovely & Amazing – She plays an actress — and what is crazier than an actress playing an actress? — who befriends stray dogs and gets all depressed when she’s rejected for a role.

Formula 51 – She plays an assassin who’s amassed huge gambling debts.

Match Point – “GIVE ME A BABY!”

Chaos Theory – “Get out of my house. Oh, and our daughter really isn’t yours you sterile bastard!”

Transsiberian – She plays a reformed wild child who goes cold turkey on the booze and marries a Goody Two-Shoes who’s obsessed with trains.

Redbelt – She plays a pill-popping lawyer who discharges a firearm in the middle of a martial arts studio.

Shutter Island – She plays a nurse who pretends to be the most insane mental patient in the asylum, Rachel Solando.

The Mortimer typecasting is progressively getting worse. It’s so bad at this point that the crazy chick (just a hunch) who plays crazy chicks is playing crazy chicks playing crazy chicks within her movies. She’s just showing off her unstoppable instability at this point. The only problem is that once you go wack you never go back, or at least that’s what they say. Fortunately for Mortimer, there will never be a shortage of cuckoo casting possibilities. After all, this is Hollywood we are talking about. Oh, and Emily, get the eff out of my dreams. You’re freaking me out with that half-opened devil eye, lady.

Foreign Film Focus is a movie review series that features the greatest foreign films ever made. Some of these films will be brand new. Others will older classics. All will be great.

Just as I didn’t get around to seeing possibly the best dramatic film of 2008  for quite some time (Synecdoche, New York), it took me a little while to see what was likely the best dramatic flick of 2009. Sorry, Hurt Locker. Sorry, Precious. That film is the sprawling French gangster epic A Prophet.

You hear the comparisons to everything from The Godfather to Goodfellas, but Jacques Audiard’s instant classic feels more like City of God meets The Shawshank Redemption to me. Lofty praise for a $13 million dollar film that starred a virtually unknown actor who closely resembles Borat Sagdiyev, but A Prophet earns that praise. I didn’t think that the film could possibly be as good as all the hype built it up to be. It wasn’t — it was better.

Malik El Djebena (played by a brilliant Tahar Rahim) reminds me an awful lot of Shawshank‘s Andy Dufresne. From the onset of both films, you feared each young man wouldn’t be cut out for prison. They were skinny, frail, meek. But as most of our mothers taught us when we were young, or at least attempted to, don’t always judge a book by its cover. Both men used unexpected determination, resourcefulness and wits to essentially become the big man on campus in their respective prisons. Andy was the silver-spooned banker that ended up the King of Shawshank. Malik was the illiterate Arab petty thief who ended up playing both the Arabs and the Corsicans like a fiddle. Additionally, neither should have been in prison in the first place. You get the sense that either Malik was innocent, or he stole or did whatever he did because he was desperate and starving.

No different than how Frank Darabont’s script made Andy a lovable convict, Audiard’s script (and he had some help) made Malik a highly sympathetic character. This wasn’t just a “fish out of water” story — Malik was a clownfish swimming with great white sharks. That’s why when Malik ends up maiming and killing, you accept his acts of violence as survival of the fittest. In fact, you pretty much cheer it on. Hey, if you can’t relate to and root for a character who never had a chance, you are sorely out of touch with your humanity.

Speaking of humanity, in the end we discover that Malik still had his intact. Part of you wants him to lose it, wants to see him exact revenge on the very man who turned that unassuming 19 year old into a full-fledged gangster. But Malik resists temptation, and in the process likely saves his soul and possibly his life. I won’t give away any more than I have, but in the end the boy has become a man. You get the feeling that he’s going to make the right moves and continue to be the survivalist he was inside the pen.

A Prophet also reminded me of Bronson, which considering how much I liked the latter is more high praise. Both films had trippy, formula-be-damned elements that really introduced us to the personal demons and struggles of each lead character — the inner conflict. Malik’s first murder victim becomes part imaginary friend, part conscience and let’s us know that Malik will never be completely OK with Malik the Murderer. His dreams are also strange, even prophetic. These aspects of the story made Malik more interesting and the film more unpredictable. Like many of the other films mentioned in this review, I also ended up laughing quite a bit at some of the dialogue and situations (many of them involving the trippy, WTF? stuff). I think that was an excellent way to release tension and make this lengthy roller coaster ride feel less daunting.

I also loved Audiard’s intent to create a strong, iconic character for a cultural group that didn’t really have one — Arabs in France. Similar to Persepolis, it was uplifting to see an oft-ignored group get some love. I’m a sucker for an underdog story, especially one that isn’t riddled with clichés. I’ll be surprised if Hollywood doesn’t remake this — likely with a Mexican subbing for an Arab — as the film industry seems obsessed with remaking recent non-American hits. One of the things I love about foreign films is that the emphasis still seems to be on art, on storytelling. That was certainly the case here, and from dreams of deer to an imaginary wingman with a slit throat, it allowed the director to take some important chances.

What I liked most about the film was that despite its heightened realism and intense situations, it was still ridiculously entertaining. Just like Malik’s initial prospects of surviving prison, as viewers we don’t expect to have a good time watching this thing at its onset. And just like with Malik, unexpected changes can always happen when you are stuck somewhere, whether it’s for six years or 160 minutes.

We’d like to invite all of our readers to join us on the new Digg! As one of Digg’s more influential Entertainment sites, FlickSided is part of the first wave of publisher accounts on the revamped site. They’ve given us 1,000 early invites to give to our readers before they open their cyber-doors to the masses. The new Digg has created a huge buzz, so you will definitely want to be a part of this. Use this access code to get early access to the alpha site: http://new.digg.com/login/nac8c535a89f44530b60c4815f502ce55. Thanks, and we’ll look forward to seeing you over there.

I think a Paramount call sheet might have just given away the rough plot of Super 8. If J.J. Abrams truly did audition 13- and 14-year-old kids this weekend as reports suggest, I think it is becoming clear what the movie will be.

First we have the title, Super 8, as in the movie camera. Then we have the hypothesized age of the leads (13-14). Then there is this trailer, where we learn about a section of Nevada’s Area 51 getting moved to Ohio (seems the move was attempted rather than completed.)

Lastly, there’s Abrams’ past: he started making Super 8mm films when he was a kid. Hmmm…

Sounds like we are going to have a cross between The Blair Witch Project and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, especially with Steven Spielberg involved. Two teenage kids with a Super 8 camera stumble across the wreckage of what was supposed to be the relocated section of Area 51. With Abrams, I’d also expect a dash of Cloverfield to be thrown in there. In other words, we’re going to see some sh**. My guess is that the film won’t be too understated.

I loved Star Trek and Minority Report, but other than a pretty epic start to A.I. I haven’t been a fan of Spielberg’s recent sci-fi work. War of the Worlds was an absolute dud. Regardless, this is definitely an intriguing project given the two people involved. Additionally, the top secret nature of the film — it doesn’t even have its own freakin’ Wikipedia page yet — only makes it that much more interesting. It also a pretty sure bet that the filmmaking duo will continue to use teaser trailers in an effort to raise awareness without giving anything away.

We here at FlickSided would love to here other theories on the Super 8 plot. Will it be Blair Witch meets CE3K? Something else entirely? Let us know.

I just got a text from my best friend about how The Expendables packed the action. Apparently, it was also packed the crowds. It won the box office easily. Eat Pray Love obviously didn’t spend enough time down on its hands on knees. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World forgot about one badass ex boyfriend — Sly Stallone. OK, that’s actually kinda creepy given that she’s like 20 and he’s like 60, especially after the whole hands and knees reference, but you get the point. Every male with just a tad too much testosterone pumping through his veins went to see this sucker.

I think I am the only male between the ages of 18-45 who didn’t see The Expendables. And I don’t think I will see it. I don’t know if I can.

Two things come to mind; 1.) How Righteous Kill righteously killed my childhood. I had to go visit Dr. Howard Mierzwiak and have him wipe my mind of any recollection of the film so I wouldn’t go home and wipe my ass with my DVD copies of The Godfather II and Heat. That’s how heartbroken I was over Al Pacino and Robert De Niro doing that movie. 2.) A Rolling Stones show I watched on HBO a few years back. I was too busy worrying about Mick Jagger breaking a hip or Keith Richard’s veins exploding to enjoy the music, which wasn’t what I imagined it was when my parent’s generation enjoyed the band during their prime. The only reason I kept watching was because I was waiting for a Robin Williams comedy special. HBO probably counted on that. Bloodsuckers, er, rather True Bloodsuckers.

Look, Rambo and Rocky Balboa were pretty decent films. I could have done with less of that homely woman in Rocky Balboa, but, hey, even homeless-looking/too-much-plastic-surgery Rocky still has needs. Regardless, those two final installment do-overs basically saved the image of both franchises. Mission accomplished. At that point, Sly should have considered himself lucky that those projects worked out so well and ridden off into the sunset as an action star. He could’ve done a Murray-an shift (as in Bill), and taken roles in more films like Copland, films that embraced his age, his current public image, and most notably the shift away from corny action flicks that Hollywood has taken. He’s even admitted that the 80s action star has gone the way of the dinosaur. So why play John Hammond, build Jurassic Park and go against nature? That’s a dangerous game.

20 years ago, say, back in 1990, an Arnold Schwarzenegger-Sylvester Stallone collaboration would have set Hollywood on fire. Now, it’s a summer afterthought that only makes $35 million by beating out Julia Roberts and Michael Cera playing the same role they’ve both already played 347 times. I realize Ah-nuld was only in the film briefly, but this was still the only time they have ever been in a film together and that’s just too much for me to stomach. Why didn’t this happen when they were in their respective primes? Artistic differences? Eff that, they aren’t artists — they made Judge Dread and Last Action Hero, for chrissakes. Money? They were and still are two of the richest guys in Hollywood. Personal differences? Please. They’re good buddies.

Maybe I just need to get over it and be glad they ever made it on the same screen at the same time, but that’s not going to happen. The reviews for this thing are terrible, the two of them look old and tired, and all I can think about is what could have been. I loved those movies, especially Arnie’s, but that was back then and that ship sailed long ago. Memo to all of Hollywood’s current A-listers: if you want to do a movie with another big actor or actress, make it happen now not later. We don’t want to see Leonardo DiCaprio and Will Smith do a sci-fi thriller together in the year 2030 — we want to see that flick now, when they are in their respective primes.

That’s why The Expendables is truly expendable in my eyes. You can only wait around for something for so long before you stop caring altogether. There was an 11 year old who wanted to see Arnold and Sly shooting it out. This 31 year old is rolling his eyes and saying grow up. You’re making me feel old, fellas.

Will Ferrell has enjoyed an amazing acting career. SNL. Funny or Die (home of the “Eva Mendes Sex Tape“). Hollywood. The MTV award shows. Eastbound & Down. The crazy Dubya theatre-HBO gig.

But, really, where would he be without writer/director Adam McKay? He wouldn’t have been the next “it” SNL comedian. He wouldn’t have been following in the footsteps of Chevy Chase, Bill Murray, Eddie Murphy and Adam Sandler. I can tell you that much. Luckily, Ferrell and McKay met during their time on SNL, where the latter would eventually become the show’s head writer. The rest, as they say, is history.

McKay has been a behind-the-scenes Scottie Pippen to Ferrell’s on-screen Jordan; the comedy duo is better together than apart. They’ve done three hit films and launched one of the most successful comedy websites in Internet history together. Today, their fourth film project, The Other Guys, opens in theaters everywhere. It’s been “certified fresh” by Rotten Tomatoes and appears to be the blockbuster that will finally take Inception down at the box office.

Since it appears another Ferrell-McKay hit is on the way, let’s take a look at the roles that have defined the impressive Hollywood career of Will Ferrell — remembering that he probably wouldn’t be where he was today with all those assists from Mr. McKay.

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