Encore post: What's the rumpus

Last night the wife and I were doing a little channel surfing, and came across one of my favorite films of all time - Miller's Crossing. I was going to post about what a great film it is and how much I love it, but then I realized I'd already done that nine years ago. So you get to read it (maybe for the second time), and I don't have to write a new post. It's what I like to call a win-win. What's the rumpus is a recurring line in the movie. It's so good, someone really should grab that URL. Oh wait, someone already has. Enjoy the post. And as Gabriel Byrne as Tom Reagan says, "Don't get hysterical."

From the first frames of Blood Simple, I've been a Coen Brothers fan. I've enjoyed everything they've done. I even managed to find a few lines worth hearing in The Ladykillers.

But for now and always, my favorite Coen Brothers film is Miller's Crossing.

For me, it's pitch perfect on every level. The writing in particular is so authentic and of the time, it demands attention to follow exactly what's going on. I like movies where I'm required to be an active participant and not an innocent bystander. I also like movies where I don't know what's coming, or, as Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) would say, what the play is.

On the surface it's a gangster film. But it's really about loyalties, relationships, jealously, consequences, love and sacrifice in the most honorable sense.

Brilliant performances all the way around, it's also the movie that made Gabriel Byrne a star (at least in America), and introduced us to Marcia Gay Harden. Albert Finney is superb as mob boss Leo. The film is also filled with Coen Bros. favorites: Jon Polito is brilliant as usual as rival mob boss Casper. John Turturro gives yet another of his eccentric, memorable, scene-stealing performances (while we're talking about Turturro, have a look at him in Big Lebowski). Steve Buscemi, although not going through a wood-chipper in this one like he did in Fargo, has a short, memorable bit that's pure gold.

If you have an eye for detail, you'll notice an apartment building in the film called the Barton Arms. If you're a Coen Bros. fan, you'll know why that's so cool.

Sadly Miller's Crossing didn't do nearly as well commercially as it deserved to because it had the unlucky honor of being a gangster film released the same year as Goodfellas and Godfather III. For me, of the three, it's the best of its' genre.

In this movie, as one of the characters says, "Up is down, black is white." I say Miller's Crossing is a great film you owe it to yourself to see.

Goodbye Brian Dennehy

I've mentioned before I was a theater arts major. You may have see my work in one of the early Sprint commercials. The director was Robert Lieberman, who used to be married to Mary Lou Henner. To this day, I believe I got the part because, at the time, I looked freakishly like him - so much so that everyone on the shoot thought I was his brother. It's always been a who you know town—or in my case, who you look like.

Even so, it wasn't enough to keep me from being cut from the spot before it aired. What was particularly depressing was I knew the editor who was cutting the spot, and she did everything she could to keep me in it, but no luck.

Showbiz. AmIrite?

Anyway, during those days I used to like to meet friends at The Palm for drinks. One time I arrived early, so I took a seat at the bar and ordered a screwdriver while I was waiting. Next to me, chatting with the bartender, was this big, loud, very funny guy who I heard but wasn't paying much attention to until he told a joke I couldn't help but overhear and laugh at.

He turned to me and said, "You liked that one?" It was Brian Dennehy.

Even before that encounter I was a fan of his. He was what I like to call a money-in-the-bank actor. Meaning you could never go wrong casting him in anything.

The wife and I had the extraordinary pleasure of seeing his towering performance as Willie Loman in Arthur Miller's Death Of A Salesman. I don't remember how many years ago it was, but the performance still haunts me. He won a Tony for it. He should have won all of them.

Brian Dennehy died a few days ago, and it didn't get nearly the press it would have if not for the virus that's taking up the news cycle 24/7. But if you've ever seen him in Cocoon, First Blood, Tommy Boy, Presumed Innocent or many others, you already know how big a talent has been lost.

Thank you for sharing your talent, and for the conversation at the bar. I'll never forget either.

Rest in peace.

Don't ask: Taking the middle seat

In my ongoing Don't Ask series I've covered such hot-button issues as moving, watching your stuff, sharing a hotel room and loaning you money to name a few. In tonight's installment, I tackle a topic that makes me very uncomfortable. The middle seat.

The middle is a place I've never cared for much. Middle management. Middle America. Middle earth. Middle of the road. Thanks, but no (being a night owl, I don't mind the middle of the night, but we're going to table that for the purposes of this post).

Let's start at the movies. When I go with friends, often they like to sit dead center in the theater. Alledgedly the picture and sound are calibrated for the optimum movie-going experience in those seats. You know who doesn't have the optimum experience sitting there? Me. My comfort zone is on the aisle—right or left, center or side. Doesn't matter. I've been going to movies my whole life, and I don't feel like I've missed much by sitting on the aisle.

There's a method to my no-center-seat madness. For starters, I'm a not a small guy. I'm built for comfort, not for speed—at least that's what I used to tell my high school girlfriend. I don't like feeling crowded.

I also have the bladder of a three-year old. At some point he'll want it back, but until then I'm using it (I'll be here all week). Because of that inconvenient truth, I don't like having to crawl over strangers in the dark, potentially stepping on their toes or knocking over their stupid bag of popcorn that should've been in their lap instead of on the floor. But can I tell them that? I can't, because there's no talking during the movie. And besides, I don't have time to chat. I need to get to the bathroom.

The other place you'll never find me in the middle seat is on an airplane.

Being the pampered poodle I am, it's always my preference to fly in the front of the plane, where middle seats are imaginary, non-existent things like unicorns or responsible Republicans. People always ask me, "Isn't it really expensive to fly in the front of the plane?" I always give them the same answer: that's what the college fund is for.

But on those occasions where I do find myself in a three-seat row on the plane, my seat choice happens in this order: window, aisle or window or aisle in another row.

I don't fly in the middle seat. Ever. Not to sound mean, but I'm not switching to the middle so you can be closer to your wife who's sitting behind us. Or so you can put a little distance between you and your screaming baby. Not because you're scared of flying and my window/aisle seat would make it easier.

I used to be scared of flying, and look how good I am at it now. Know what helped me get over it? Not flying in the middle seat.

If you somehow find yourself traveling with me, or going to the movies, I promise we'll have a good time. But make sure you set your expectations ahead of time, because when it comes to where I'm sitting, there's no middle ground.

So don't ask.

The lost art

A long time ago, in a world and time that seems more quaint with each passing minute, people had this thing they used to do with each other. Can you guess what it was?

I'll give you a hint. It didn't involve phones, smart or otherwise. Or glowing screens. Not even fast typing with your thumbs. Give up? People used to talk to each other.

Uninterrupted, interested, interesting, engaging conversations. Even in disagreement, their tongues managed to stay civil. They were receptive to new ideas. And found joy in the camaraderie. Told you it was a quaint time.

The picture above is from a movie that wouldn't stand a chance of getting made today, unless it had commitments from Vin Diesel and Mark Wahlberg. But, you know, neither of them are known for being great talkers. So probably not even then.

The movie was called My Dinner With Andre. Made 37 years ago, it was directed by Louis Malle and starred Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory. The entire film is the two of them sharing a conversation at Café des Artistes in Manhattan. They talk about their lives, their philosophies, the simple pleasures. There are no car crashes, no CGI monsters or superheroes and no phones ringing.

And it is wildly intelligent and entertaining.

What brought on this unexpected nostalgia for a time where a social network was a cocktail party at Tavern On The Green was a conversation I had with my writer friend Eric at work today. We weren't solving any of the world's problems. For that matter we weren't solving any work problems either (Shhhh!). We were just chatting it up about cars, family, movies, This Is Us and how the older our kids get the stupider they think we are.

I enjoyed it immensely. The exchange of viewpoints, the in-the-momentness of it all. Nobody was rushing to answer a call or get back to work.

It's a contradictory world we're living in, what with devices that promise connection yet deliver isolation. Yet without a two-year plan, roaming charges, eye strain or digital chimes we can make a human connection that's so much more entertaining and enjoyable.

As Wallace Shawn in another movie might say, "Inconceivable!"

Goodbye Bill Paxton

Here's how I met Bill Paxton.

One of my best friends and my best man Scott Thomson was filming Twister in Ponca City, Oklahoma. Coincidentally, Scott was going to have a rather significant birthday while he was shooting. So the wife and I decided to fly out there and throw him a surprise party to celebrate the occasion. We also thought it might be a hoot to take in the sites Ponca City had to offer—one of which was the WalMart on a Saturday night. Whole other post.

Anyway, with Apollo 13 taking off (no pun intended), in order not to be bothered Bill didn't use his own name when he checked into hotels. In one of the conversations we had while he was filming, Scott happened to drop the name Bill did use. I made note of it, then called the luxurious Holiday Inn the cast was staying at, got hold of Bill and we proceeded to plan Scott's party.

Unfortunately, on the weekend we were going to have it, Bill was going to be in Houston doing PR for Apollo 13. But we set it up, and since we were flying in on Friday would have a chance to speak with him before he took off for his home state of Texas.

Bill was one of Scott's best friends, and we'd heard a lot about him over the years. We were excited to meet him.

Scott introduced us, and with a firm handshake and smile as wide as Texas—with a drawl to go along with it—Bill said hi to us. He was gracious, funny, energetic and didn't let on at all we'd been talking and planning Scott's party.

I don't remember exactly what my wife said to him, but the answer Bill gave in his Texas drawl, with a little Elvis thrown in, is a line we use to this day, and deliver in Bill's voice: "That's right baby.""

The next time I met Bill was at an Academy screening of a film he directed called Frailty. He was in a whirlwind that night, but he took time to speak with me and we reminisced a bit about the time we spent on set with him watching them film Twister.

My other memory of the party by the way is being in the basement of the Ponca City VFW, playing Barrel Of Monkeys with Helen Hunt, which I wrote about briefly here. She won, but I don't hold it against her.

You hear the term "underrated" a lot when people write or speak about Bill Paxton. But it doesn't quite jive with the place he held in the industry. Well respected and well liked by his peers, he was money in the bank. A guaranteed great performance given with everything he had, regardless of the medium, the material or the location.

Just this week I watched Bill in A Simple Plan, one of my favorite films. I know from Scott he had a less than fun time filming the movie, but testimony to his exceptional talent, it's one of the best performances he's ever given. There are dozens of reviews to back me up on that.

I'm going to miss Bill. He was always a bright light for me whenever I saw him on screen. Rare as an actor, even rarer as a person, Bill was one of those personalities deeply liked by everyone he encountered.

There was so much more of his talent to be revealed. But for now, all I can do is be grateful for having met him, and the work he leaves behind.

That's right baby. Rest in peace.

Goodbye John Hurt

British actor John Hurt died today of pancreatic cancer. In everything from Alien to The Elephant Man to three of the Harry Potter, his exceptional talent was on display in all its range and colors.

A few years ago I wrote this post—under the title of We Have Contact—about a lesser seen role of his that's always been one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy the clip of it.

The year isn't even a month old, and it's already claimed yet another one of the greats.

I'll miss John Hurt. He was one of those rare talents I always thought would be around forever. Fortunately all of his performances will.

The image many people have of John Hurt is of him thrashing around on the dining table of the space ship Nostromo with an alien bursting out of his chest.

Or maybe it's his grotesquely disfigured form in The Elephant Man, as he proclaims to Anthony Hopkins he is not an animal, he's a human being.

Younger moviegoers might know him as Mr. Olivander from the Harry Potter movies - including the next two of them.

But his one performance I think I enjoy most is one most people didn't see. His role as eccentric, reclusive, terminally ill billionaire industrialist S.R. Hadden in the Robert Zemeckis film Contact.

With a keen interest in space and extra-terrestrials, his character is compelling, creepy and brilliant all at the same time (not unlike a few creative directors I know).

I quote the line at the end of this scene all the time. Scares the hell out of my kids.

Stardate 7202016

It's the most recognizable starship in the fleet. And in July, it's docking in San Diego. Well, on the big screen anyway.

July 20th, the next installment of the franchise - Star Trek Beyond - is going to have its world premiere at Comic Con. And, if you know anything about me, you know that when it comes to Star Trek vs. Star Wars, while having great appreciation and affection for the latter, I've always been Team Kirk first and foremost.

I've also had a lifetime worth of Comic Cons. I've been to the last ten or eleven of them, and at this point, as the kids say, been there done that.

The problem is I have a film major living with me for the summer, and Comic Con is like breathing to him. So, despite the same reluctance I have every year, come July we'll be packing up the energy bars, the Stark Industries t-shirts, the camera and the credit cards and heading down San Diego way.

I wasn't excited about it until I heard about the premiere. I've actually been to one world premiere at Comic Con. That's the good news. The bad news is it was Cowboys & Aliens. The movie wasn't as bad as the critics made it out to be, but in the end it just didn't work (Note to Chung: it was still better than Interstellar). However, Harrison Ford sat in front of us and Daniel Craig was ten seats down in our row, so it wasn't a total wash.

At this point they haven't announced how the tickets will be distributed or who will get them. Maybe a lottery. Maybe lining up days ahead of time. Maybe a last minute announcement and a mad dash to the theater.

Oh, speaking of the theater, did I mention it's going to be screened at an outdoor IMAX theater, with Michael Giacchino conducting the San Diego Symphony orchestra, performing his score along side the screening? True fact. It's going to be worth it, no matter what we have to go through to get there.

Unless it's drinking Romulan ale. I hate that stuff.

Wild card

It's still one of the most electric performances I've ever seen on screen. Ray Liotta in Something Wild.

It's not his first film: that was The Lonely Lady starring Pia Zadora. Enough said.

Back to Something Wild. From the minute Ray Sinclair (Liotta) appears he takes your breath away. There's tension and danger in the air, and you're on edge just waiting for it to be unleashed.

Not unlike me in a client presentation.

The problem with an entrance like that is the bar is set. Fortunately, in roles like Henry Hill in Goodfellas, Shoeless Joe Jackson in Field Of Dreams, Donald Carruthers in Smokin' Aces and many others, Liotta is money in the bank. He always delivers.

I started thinking about him because I saw a promo for a new television show created by Barry Levinson, starring Jennifer Lopez and Liotta called Shades of Blue that premieres later this week. I'm excited about it because I'll get to see Ray Liotta onscreen at least once a week. And confidence is high, because of the cast and the pedigree, that this will be one to watch.

To get a little taste of what I'm talking about, here's the trailer for Something Wild.

Keep it in mind next time we're in a presentation together.

What's the rumpus?

From the first frames of Blood Simple, I've been a Coen Brothers fan. I've enjoyed everything they've done. I even managed to find a few lines worth hearing in The Ladykillers.

But for now and always, my favorite Coen Brothers film is Miller's Crossing.

For me, it's pitch perfect on every level. The writing in particular is so authentic and of the time, it demands attention to follow exactly what's going on. I like movies where I'm required to be an active participant and not an innocent bystander. I also like movies where I don't know what's coming, or, as Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) would say, what the play is.

On the surface it's a gangster film. But it's really about loyalties, relationships, jealously, consequences, love and sacrifice in the most honorable sense.

Brilliant performances all the way around, it's also the movie that made Gabriel Byrne a star (at least in America), and introduced us to Marcia Gay Harden. Albert Finney is superb as mob boss Leo. The film is also filled with Coen Bros. favorites: Jon Polito is brilliant as usual as rival mob boss Casper. John Turturro gives yet another of his eccentric, memorable, scene-stealing performances (while we're talking about Turturro, have a look at him in Big Lebowski). Steve Buscemi, although not going through a wood-chipper in this one like he did in Fargo, has a short, memorable bit that's pure gold.

If you have an eye for detail, you'll notice an apartment building in the film called the Barton Arms. If you're a Coen Bros. fan, you'll know why that's so cool.

Sadly Miller's Crossing didn't do nearly as well commercially as it deserved to because it had the unlucky honor of being a gangster film released the same year as Goodfellas and Godfather III. For me, of the three, it's the best of its' genre.

In this movie, as one of the characters says, "Up is down, black is white." I say Miller's Crossing is a great film you owe it to yourself to see.

One for the ages

The elderly gentleman to the left, in case you didn't recognize him, is Burt Reynolds. Yes, that Burt Reynolds.

He made a rare public appearance at an east coast Comic Con, and because he's looking like a frail, ghostly version of his former movie star self, the press has had a field day. Let the speculation begin.

Here's what I think happened to Burt. He got old.

Reynolds is turning the corner on eighty. He's had a great life as an actor (at one time the most popular box office draw in the world), director, talk-show staple, star of television and commercials. The FedEx spot he did still makes me laugh.

Despite how hard we deny it, we're all standing on the tracks, and the age train's a comin'. And there are only two choices: board it gracefully, or hop on kicking and screaming. But either way, we're all going for the ride.

A while ago I started making this noise when I got out of my soft, comfy, low-to-the-ground reading chair. Then I realized it was my father's noise. My knees hurt every now and again (it's what kept me out of the 400-meter in Beijing in '08). And my eyesight, which is already corrected with progressive lens that bend walls if you look through them, is getting worse even as you read this.

And, as topping on the cake, I have gray hair. But my dad went gray when he was twenty-five years old, so I never stood a chance. There was this one time a bald colleague of mine started making fun of my gray hair, to which I replied, "You really want to get in a conversation about hair?" That felt good.

While father time waves his wand over all of us, it must be particularly hard on people like Reynolds who've been in the public eye since they were young. There's the line Julia Roberts says in Notting Hill about "becoming some sad, middle-aged woman who looks like somebody who was famous for awhile."

When Burt Reynolds was starting out, his calling card was the fact he looked like a double for Marlon Brando. It was a mixed blessing - it got him jobs and it cost him jobs. But the ones he got, he delivered on.

What with his marriage to and divorce from Loni Anderson, all the bad Smokey movies and the Playgirl centerfold it's understandable that sometimes people dismiss Reynolds' talent.

But then you have to take a minute and think about his performances in Deliverance, The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing, The Longest Yard, Starting Over, Sharky's Machine, Boogie Nights and The Player. Roles that betray his Brando wanna-be, pretty boy reputation.

Burt Reynolds has had several health problems over the years, including the one he's facing now: old age. In our youth driven time, it makes me sad an actor who's been so popular and entertained so many has to endure the speculation, lies and insults of a tabloid culture where vultures are swooping in literally even before the body's cold.

Someday, the paparazzi and hacks who've hounded him for years will be old and frail themselves. And I promise you one of the stories they'll spin over and over, because they can't remember they just told it ten minutes ago, is the one about the time they met Burt Reynolds.

Cinderella

Slipper? I hardly knew her. Sorry, I had to get that out of my system.

I had a little moment of indecision about what heading to place this post under. At first I was going to publish it as part of my wildly successful, universally acclaimed and almost award-winning Guilty Pleasures series. But then I reminded myself that my macho self-esteem is well intact, and there was no reason to post it there. It deserves to be highlighted on its own.

So here's the bottom line: two days ago I saw Cinderella. And I loved it. It is a spectacular film and a welcome return to form for Disney Studios.

The Cinderella story has always been derided by feminists for many reasons, not the least of which is that Cinderella waits for a man to take her away from her stepmother, evil stepsisters and horrible life she's living.

The movie I saw was about acceptance, forgiveness, empowerment, staying true to your values and choosing the life you want to lead. Cinderella stays at her home because it's her home. It's also the last place where her father was, and it has great sentimental and emotional value to her.

She stays true to the values she learned from her dying mother - have courage, be kind - even under the most punishing test of them doled out by her stepmother (played by the unfairly talented Cate Blanchett).

She doesn't go to the ball looking for a man or a husband. She goes to escape her circumstances for one magical evening, and to reconnect with the man she met in the forest and obviously had great chemistry with.

The movie is pitch perfect in its tone, not an easy thing to accomplish considering how easily fairy tales can devolve into sugary pap. The emotion of it all sneaks up on you, although, full disclosure, I am a sap and a pushover for romance.

The film makes its points in its own way, without being preachy or trying to be politically correct. It's also a stunningly beautiful movie to watch. You could literally take any frame and hang it as a painting. It is lush, detailed and magical. Kenneth Branaugh has done an outstanding job directing.

Contrary to what you might think, it's not a chick-flick. It's a story with powerful lessons for both sexes about character, commitment, self-respect and what's really important in life.

I can't wait to see it again.

Hopefully before midnight. I hear things get a little strange any later than that.

Face the music

I have a lot of sympathy for actors, especially women, who feel they need to have a nip and tuck just to stay competitive in an industry that worships youth, and tosses anyone over thirty to the curb.

But as Joan Rivers, Jocelyn Wildenstein (the cat lady in New York) and Priscilla Presley would be the first to tell you, sometimes the results are less than what you hoped for.

I feel particularly sad for Lara Flynn Boyle.

I know she made the decision to do it, and I know she has to live with the consequences. But you have to wonder what she saw when she looked in the mirror that drove her to such extremes. It obviously wasn't the beautiful, talented actor the rest of the world saw.

I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. It's just my opinion that sometimes there's a thin line between doing what you have to do and mental illness.

LFB was in one of my favorite films ever, John Dahl's Red Rock West with Nic Cage. She also displayed her comedy chops in Wayne's World, and her very sinister side in The Temp. Sadly every time I see one of her films now, it's overlaid with a veneer of pity and sadness for her each time she's on screen.

Rumor has it she's had some corrective surgery to regain some semblance of her former self. But unless she has a DeLorean that goes 88 mph, I don't think her former looks are coming back any time soon.

I hear people joke about celebrities that have plastic surgery, but I get it. No one is harder and more critical of our physical looks than we are. Times a thousand for people who make a living being looked at by millions of people.

While it's obvious LFB won't get the roles she used to, I hope she's able to continue working in the industry. On her IMDB page, she's just completed a low-budget family film directed by the same person who did Gabe The Cupid Dog and Unstable.

Be that as it may, I'm grateful at least someone in town looks past the surface, and still sees a talented actor looking back.

Guilty pleasures Part 7: Edge Of Tomorrow

Yet another installment in the Guilty Pleasures series. If you haven’t been following it, I won't take it personally like so many other things - bad weather and heavy traffic to name a couple. Instead, I’ll just make it easy for you to catch up here, here, here, here, here and here.

But like a well written sequel (chuckles to himself for pretending to know the phrase “well written”), you don’t have to see the original to follow along with this latest installment.

Edge Of Tomorrow is part of the repeating-until-you-get-it-right genre of films. Also in the cannon are Groundhog’s Day, Looper, Source Code, Frequency, Run Lola Run and several others. It stars Tom Cruise and Emily Blunt, who clearly work well and have fun together.

Cruise plays a smarmy military PR hack who winds up getting volunteered into being a soldier and winds up having to kill the alien brain, which then kills all the aliens.

Or something like that.

The problem is he dies each time. But because he’s been exposed to the alien’s blood, he keeps rebooting his days and learning more each time out.

It’s clearly not an original concept, but it’s dished up in an extremely fun way. It’s an action and humor filled two hours of pure entertainment, which is what a summer get-the-aliens-before-they-get-us movie should be.

I’ve always liked Cruise. I don’t pay attention to the Scientology craziness, or how his marriage du jour is doing. I think he’s an extraordinarily talented actor, and a brave one.

Interview With The Vampire. Born On The Fourth Of July. Tropic Thunder. Collateral. Magnolia. Not a safe choice in the bunch. But Cruise takes them on – putting his vanity aside - and commits to the performances with an intensity not often seen in actors at any stage of their career.

He also happens to have been in several of my favorite movies: Jerry Maguire. A Few Good Men. Rain Man (where I felt he had a much more difficult role than Dustin Hoffman, who won an Oscar for his performance).

From the minute he slid across the hardwood floor in his underwear in Risky Business, Tom Cruise has been willing to do what it takes to entertain his audience.

Just like he does in Edge Of Tomorrow.

Goodbye to one of the greats

This picture of Phillip Seymour Hoffman is what he looked like when I met him. On the right is my best friend and best man Scott Thomson. As you can probably guess, the photo is from the movie Twister.

Scott was in Ponca City, Oklahoma for months filming Twister, and it just so happened he was going to be there through one of his more significant birthdays. My wife and I decided we'd surprise him, so I called Bill Paxton (under his alias at the hotel) and together we arranged a surprise party for Scott.

Let me just say you haven't lived until you've partied on a Saturday night at the VFW in Ponca City. Helen Hunt and I were playing barrel of monkeys. Long story.

Anyway, Scott introduced my wife and me to many members of the cast, including Phillip. My memory of him is just this electric energy, this bigger than life character that also came across in the movie.

Obviously you didn't have to meet him to be a huge fan of his remarkable talent. From the music critic in Almost Famous, to the author in State And Main, the sad sound man in Boogie Nights, the disgruntled team manager in Moneyball, the heavy in Mission Impossible, his Oscar-winning performance in Capote and fifty-eight other films, to me he was like the Gene Hackman of his generation. It didn't matter if the film was good or bad, Hoffman was always a shining light, the extraordinary performance to look forward to that would elevate the work to an entirely different level.

I think the fact I got to meet him makes his death even sadder. He'd struggled with heroin addiction for years, even entering rehab last May.

I always used to wonder about stars of a certain era and stars of today. I used to say will we feel the same way about, for example, Bruce Willis passing as we did about Jimmy Stewart? Phillip Seymour Hoffman was one of today's golden era. He was the real deal.

At one point in Charlie Wilson's War, Hoffman's character says, "It was nothing."

Watching Phillip Seymour Hoffman on screen was something.

Rest in peace.

Guilty pleasures Part 4: Carrie

I know we're all thinking it, so I'm just going to man up and come right out and say it.

Few things are more fun than watching a girl covered in pigs blood take out after the mean girl and give her what she deserves. See, it's better when you talk about it.

Number four in my Guilty Pleasures series is the remake of the 1976 film Carrie. The original starred, and made a star of, Sissy Spacek. This new one stars Chloe Grace Moretz as the prom queen not to be messed with.

A quick recap: Carrie is the daughter of a religious fanatic who sees sin everywhere and in everything. As a result, she shelters Carrie from the world around her, which apparently includes telling her that her Aunt Flo will be arriving when she hits a certain age.

When that time of the month finally arrives for Carrie, it comes in the girls shower room at the school gym. And it terrifies her.

Apparently the only kind of girls that attend her high school are mean girls, because they throw tampons and pads at her then videotape her on the shower floor in her bloody towel and post it online.

Thus begins the theme of blood that courses throughout the film.

The leader of the mean girl pack is a girl named Chris, and if you know anything about Carrie's powers of telekinesis, you know it's not going to end well for Chris.

Julianne Moore as her mom doesn't pack the authentic craziness of Piper Laurie in the original, but she's fine and manages to color all the fanatic numbers.

But because we know what's coming at the end, basically the film is ninety minutes of waiting for the pigs blood to be poured on Carrie and her date at the prom, and Carrie to exact her revenge on everyone who did it. And laughed at her. And tried to be nice to her (say goodbye to the sympathetic swim coach).

Special effects are considerably better as you'd expect, and Moretz gives a good creepy-eyed performance as she's crushing bad boys in the accordion bleachers and causing cars to stop, throwing bad girl Chris' face through the windshield in slow motion.

I know I'm not supposed to like it, but that's why it's a guilty pleasure. Like I said in part 1 of the series, which was about the Final Destination films, there's nothing more entertaining than watching snotty, teenage stereotypes behave badly and then get what's coming to them.

In fact, in this movie, it was bloody good fun.

Springsteen & I. Almost.

I swear to God, sometimes I don't need to have anyone else working against me. I can do a fine job of it myself.

Ridley Scott made a documentary about this up and coming singer named Bruce Springsteen. You may have noticed I've mentioned him a time or two on here. Anyway, it's called Springsteen & I, and it's a series of concert footage (already worth the price of admission) and video from fans talking about what Bruce means to them.

It should come as no surprise I knew about the filming and call for videos long before the general public. I have my ways. When the website went up and the call went out, I was one of the first people there.

Bruce stories? I'm lousy with 'em.

Unfortunately, one of the first things I read on the site, word for word, was the release I'd have to sign in order to submit my video to Ridley Scott's production company. And things like using my likeness in any media, existing now or in the future, in perpetuity just didn't sit well with me.

Fast forward. The documentary had a brief theatrical run, and is now about to premiere on Showtime. I just saw this trailer for it on Showtime, and the only thought I had is one that, sadly, is not unfamiliar to me.

What the hell was I thinking?

It reminds me of the time my wife-to-be and I were fighting in the middle of Bullock's in Westwood about the pattern on our wedding china. I was dug in, and I was not going to budge. Right up until I had a revelation: I didn't care what the pattern was. It was important to my bride, but I wasn't quite sure just why or what I ground I was trying to take. So I just let it go.

That's what I thought when I saw the trailer - I should have just let all my concerns about the release go. I deeply regret not having just signed it and submitting a video of myself (the camera loves me) telling one of my many, many Bruce stories.

This is a lesson I seem to have to keep learning over and over again. The one about getting over myself, and being a little less stressed out about the things that really don't matter in the long run. Maybe one of these times it'll sink in.

So when it airs, and all my friends who know how I feel about Bruce ask if I submitted a video, or why I wasn't in it, I'll have the self-inflicted pleasure of looking them right in the eye and telling them the truth.

Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

The luckiest actor alive Part 2: Channing Tatum

Astonishing charisma. Gritty realism. Award-winning performances. Channing Tatum has none of these.

What he did have is what every other good looking kid from Alabama who spent weekends at the local movie house had: a Greyhound bus ticket and a dream.

Unfortunately his dream is every movie lover's nightmare.

Performance after endlessly dull performance, Tatum walks through movies, smiling and posing then calling it "acting." It's a bad imitation of the male stars he used to see in that dingy Alabama theater. It's also the way he thinks the character would act, if the character were a bored and boring individual getting by on his good looks alone. It's what I like to call "model acting." He knows how to walk around and look good. Worse, he thinks that's enough, just like it was when he modeled for Abercrombie & Fitch.

Every one has to start somewhere. But Ricky Martin's She Bangs video? Some people will do anything for $400.

You have to wonder who he has pictures of, or who he took pictures with. It's hard to figure out how the Hollywood fame lottery works. There are a million guys who look good and actually can act, but maybe they don't play the game as well as Tatum does.

It is amazing how many different types can be lucky in Hollywood. My last luckiest actor post was about Jonah Hill, who'll certainly never be mistaken for Channing Tatum. But at least, as he proved in Moneyball, has some acting talent besides being the funny fat guy.

He can also be the serious fat guy.

Tatum is quoted as saying, "I've been able to explore life, and through exploring it I've found that I love art, I love writing, I love acting, I love all the things that make sense to me."

I just wish it made sense to the rest of us.