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Category: The Scene30 City Slang2

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Where the Truth Lies November 16, 2005

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  • High fashion

    When skies were friendly and the seats first-class
  • Jackass: Number Two

      Although critics love to toss around the warning “this film is not for the faint of heart,” in the case of Johnny Knoxville’s newest homage to painfully funny unbridled idiocy, it’s really true: you just might find yourself puking into your popcorn bucket. After a sporadically successful foray into mainstream Hollywood, the impishly charming Knoxville has returned to his lowbrow roots, reuniting with his crew of goldfish-barfing, poop-diving, lovably moronic frat boys to produce the second feature-length Jackass film. This is a movie that boldly treads where no one even wanted to go: it leaves no testicles unkicked, no shit uneaten, and no vomit spared — there’s more barfing in this movie than at a bulimia convention. These jackasses don’t just encourage hurling — they embrace it.
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  • OH that's so wrong

    Parker Posey and Danny DeVito get it on. ’Nuff said.
      Parker Posey returns to her crazy, twitchy, indie roots with "The OH in Ohio," playing Priscilla, a successful married woman from Cleveland whose life appears picture-perfect on the surface — but in the bedroom, it’s a different story. Priscilla has never had an orgasm in her life, despite the valiant efforts of her schoolteacher husband (Paul Rudd) who’s at the end of his rope due to her frigidity. When he moves into the garage, Priscilla finally breaks down and buys a vibrator — and lo and behold, finally discovers her O-face, and promptly becomes addicted to her new little friend. With her horizons now broadened, Priscilla feels free to explore love in unexpected places — specifically, the weeble wobble-shaped swimming pool tycoon of Cleveland, Wayne the Pool Guy (Danny DeVito). That’s right, kids, Parker and Danny get it on — in a pool. Consider yourself duly warned.
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  • The Devil Wears Prada

      Lauren Weisberger’s chick-lit hit The Devil Wears Prada read like one long extended commercial — Givenchy bags, Starbucks lattes, Mercedes convertibles — there was nary a page in the book that didn’t have a brand name splashed across it. Furthermore, it featured what seems to be the quintessential chick lit "heroine" — a whiny, self-obsessed spoiled white girl who’s too wimpy to stick up for herself, and too irritatingly clueless to sympathize with. For the cinematic adaptation of Prada we’re still subjected to an endless parade of designer namedrops, but at least the main character of Andy (Anne Hathaway) has gone and got herself a spine. Well, at least a semblance of a spine.
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  • A Page from the past

      Mary Harron’s sumptuous but ultimately misguided and superficial biopic of Bettie Page is almost an insult to the pinup’s legacy, as Harron is more interested in waxing philosophical over the repressed sexuality and moral censorship of the 1950s, a subject that’s been tackled better elsewhere. Thankfully, Gretchen Mol as Page gives it her all, and pulls off an engaging performance that desperately tries to flesh out the sweet little Southern girl’s true persona. But the film, overall, falls as flat as its spirited lead actress’ derriere. Bettie deserves better.
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