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Did you know? At Hooters, appetizers are known as "Hooterstizers."

 
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MOVIE: STAR WARS EPISODE III: THE REVENGE OF THE SITH (2005).
A corrupt chancellor betrays the Jedi in a bloody coup, transforming the Republic into a galactic Empire. Scramble the letters in the word Sith, and you get: Shit. I feel like I'm repeating myself...moronic dialogue, hopeless scenes that end with an arbitrary star wipe, simplistic conflicts. Lucas's idea of comedy boils down to two CG mascots engaging in slapstick; his concept of setting revolves around flying his precious ships across cities based on a randomly pilfered collage of ethnic mores, all with the devoof a child driving his collection of Matchbox cars through Mom's flowerbed.

Seriously. How many totally rad ships can we see? Do viewers never tire of the endless menagerie of squeaking critters? Or of doors that hiss impressively open? The Lucas-ian universe, with its crude, mechanistic hybrid of medieval European pomp, Samurai philosophy, and Nazi militarism, has become merely a source of distraction than anything else. Lucas had great opportunities here with his epic space melodrama: a Hamlet-like protagonist, caught between good and evil; the student leaving his mentor; the destruction of entire peoples for the sake of love. He blows all these opportunities, either by overdoing things (Noooo, cries a newly-formed Darth Vader) or not doing enough (a-a-and...star wipe). In other words, it's exactly what you'd expect.

Mildly interesting were veiled comparisons of the Sith to the current Republican-dominated political climate ("Only the Sith think in such absolutes") and the sentimental wrap-up scenes at the film's end, which serve to dovetail this chapter with the original beloved Star Wars. That plus a few passable scenes nudge it a few hair-widths above episodes I & II in quality. Otherwise, consider Revenge of the Sith a final set of instructions from Lucas' marketing team.

I've got a bad feeling about this.


 
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MOVIE: UNLEASHED (2005).
A boy finds himself thrust into the real world after a lifetime of living like a caged dog and blindly serving as a Glasgow mobster's number-one hitman. You'd think this movie preposterous if you saw it written down somewhere. A secret underground arena where men fight to the death for money? How Mad Max. The unquestioning generosity of a blind piano tuner and his plucky musical daughter? Pure schmaltz. But somehow, writer/director Luc Besson manages to maintain a comfortable balance between blisteringly violent fight scenes and the fairy-tale like sweetness of the father-daughter family that takes in this mysterious and pitiable hitman. Besson has produced similar magic before with The Professional (back when Ms. Portman felt like acting), and he attempts the same here, albeit not as successfully.

That's not to say the film's bad, not by any stretch. Jet Li takes fight scenes up an incremental notch, with his bezerker rapid-fire punches and a baffling/thrilling duke-out in the extremely closed quarters of a four foot-wide water closet. Besson also loads his character's backstory with the proper sort of tragedy required to prevent the bond between him and his unlikely adoptive family from falling into self-parody. Also smart was to center the story around a bittersweet awakening, rather than some moralistic, redemptive transformation.

Despite otherwise thin characters and off-pace dialogue, the film's quirkiness, almost naive belief in justice, and sheer heart imbue it with Besson's by now trademark charm. Difficult not to enjoy.

— Since you've been such a good little dog, I'll let you have one thing. Whatever you want.
— I want a piano.

 
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