Following up on Margaret Cho’s previous, inspiring concert movie (I'm the One That I Want),this one’s less of a horrific autobiographY using humor to plow through the pain, and more of a standard stand-up routine, with jokes that graphically dance around sex, sluts and self-esteem.
Here we go again, on another trip into the whimsical world of mental retardation and emotional disorders. This time it's Norwegian style, as two 40-something men are released from an institution and placed in an apartment. What fun will ensue as they clash with each other and the outside world? Yeah, it's that corny.
If you've ever suspected that movie producers are basically businessmen under the delusion that they are creative people, then here's a film to justify your suspicions: the story of Hollywood producer Robert Evans' rise and fall. There's not a pinch of insight in the whole enterprise, but as Hollywood yarns go it has its moments.
Bahama Breeze, a chain of Carribbean themed restaurants, has a unique approach to food preparation. Namely, to take a familiar American or Americanized dish and slap a Caribbean name and/or some coconut on it. BB is alcohol-oriented; the drinks list goes on for pages and has more ways to disguise the flavor of tequila, rum or coffee than Señor Cuervo ever dreamed of. The fare is occasionally tasty, if nonthreatening, and folks eager to re-create last year's tropical vacation are lining up for the Bahama Breeze brand.
With Eddie Murphy trapped in the lead balloon of this action-comedy vehicle factory-made from worn clichés, wearing riffs and vacuum-sealed away from both adventure and laughs, the low gravity of the moon ironically seems to accelerate his free fall from comic grace.
This simple yet subtle coming-of-age drama avoids tear-jerking while taking its time making its emotional way between the commonplace perils of its heroine (Lauren Ambrose of HBO’s "Six Feet Under") and the fine shades of often amusing irony that saturate her environment.
Summer beach-and-bikini movies are supposed to be bad in a good way. Blue Crush might have overcome its problems if it had a serviceable script or a cast that didn’t look either embarrassed (Michelle Rodriguez) or too stupid to know better. Somewhere, Frankie Avalon is turning over in his tanning bed.