I’ve been putting this off for far too long, and I think it’s finally time we had “the chat.”  I’m sorry to have to break this to you, but you – my friend – are a terrible actor.  We both know that we should have had this conversation back in your formative years (Summerland really wasn’t the best idea after guest spots on amazing shows like ER and Firefly, we really should have seen this coming).  In some ways, I feel as if I’ve failed you in postponing this conversation until now.

"I'm a serious actor, I swear. I do my own stunts."

I won’t lie to you, Zefron, I actually did see High School Musicals One, Two and Three.  The beats are catchy, the dialogue is cheesy and the setup is wholly unrealistic – clearly it was created to catapult you into mega teen stardom so that you could peak at age 20 and we could send your career off into the dusty files between Scott Baio and Leif Garret.

But alas, little Zef, you will not go gently into that good night.  Instead you torment us with projects like Charlie St. Cloud, a paranoid (semi-paranormal) account of a grieving brother who “sees dead people” (ie his younger brother that passed in a car accident five years earlier).  I can sum up how bad this role was for you in one sentence (as I imagine it was written on the film crew’s daily shooting schedule):  Charlie has sex in the graveyard with the ghost of the girl he’s in love with.  Say what?  Yeah, you heard me.  You, my friend had sex with a ghost.  From High School Musical to sex in a graveyard, did you really think that was an upgrade?

Perhaps you are in a sexy competition with your ladylove, V. Hudge?  I did recently see her in RENT at the Hollywood Bowl and she pulled off a pretty sexy strip tease as Mimi – the druggie with a stripping problem.  Perhaps it is this competition to out-sex your girlfriend that drove you to accept a part where you are “required” to take off your shirt (and the shirt of the poor girl who had to play opposite you) and “save” her from hypothermia with just your body heat.  On the rocks.  Out in the unpredictable ocean.  In the middle of the night.  During a crazy scary storm.  Do you see where I’m going with this, Zeffy?

Ready to hit the graveyard?

Suffice to say, this movie was most definitely a waste of my money.  Might I suggest you personally refund anyone who saw this film as an apology for wasting their time?  Let’s get real, what you should really be doing is taking jobs as the “face” of a product.  I will give you this much…you are a pretty man (boy?).  Long and short – just stop taking jobs where you have to talk or sing and we’ll be golden!

And on that note, I leave you with one final thought:  Good advice ain’t free.  I’ll happily accept 10% of your earnings from your next modeling gig as gratuity.

Best,

Ashley

Why the backstory? you ask.  After taking that class I realized that the western had made kind of a resurgence in recent years that I never seemed to notice before.  And while some of the films released in the last decade have been complex, interesting and entertaining, others have been… well, not.  One such film?  2001’s American Outlaws.

The story is one that’s been told a hundred times before: the legend of Jesse James and the James-Younger gang.  Colin Farrell (who was Hollywood’s “it” guy for a span of about three years in the early 2000s) stars as James, and an ensemble of what studio execs obviously expected to be the next up-and-comers (Scott Caan, Ali Larter, Gabriel Macht, and Will McCormack) round out the young cast as those closest to Jesse throughout his early years.

There’s nothing really wrong with the story itself.  It is, after all, a fascinating piece of American history.  You know what isn’t fascinating?  When really good stories get turned into garbage for the sake of trying to make them seem “relevant” to today’s generation.  I get the whole casting thing with Outlaws, I do.  You put people in movies that 12-24 year olds (because they have a lot of disposable income… you know, the money that’s left over after not having to pay for housing or food) want to see.  And in 2001, people really wanted to see a whole lot of Colin Farrell.  Scott Caan and Ali Larter as well (most known for Varsity Blues — Caan went on to do Boiler Room and Gone in Sixty Seconds, while Larter… well, lest we forget Final Destination?  I think not), but Macht and McCormack?  They’ve done about as much since Outlaws as they had prior to.  Which explains why the cast is what is it… a group of barely-known actors with the opportunity to work together in what I’m sure they were told would be the next big summer blockbuster?  Difficult to pass up.  What I really want to know is how the hell the filmmakers got Timothy Dalton to sign up for this crap-fest?  I kind of envision Dalton as being a little above the rock and roll western.

Speaking of, can we talk about the music for a minute?  It’s pretty clear the geniuses in marketing had no idea how to slap a trailer together.  Saliva and Thin Lizzy?  Seriously?  Click Click Boom meets The Boys are Back in Town… Just because your target demographic is under the age of 25 does not mean you’re required to have such literal lyrics.  I’m pretty sure your average fifteen year old could understand that the James-Younger gang are a group of good ol’ boys without having to dredge up a shitty song from 1990 to prove it.

click click boom, motherfucker

Which brings us back to American Outlaws’ biggest issue.  It isn’t really difficult to update an old story if the story is good.  Look at 2007’s The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.  It didn’t try to make the story more fantastic than it actually was because of the assumption that younger audiences need to see some douche bag steering a horse with the reigns in his teeth so that he can shoot two pistols at once (Farrell) in order to be entertained.  On the contrary, Assassination was subtle, meaningful, and able to stay true to the roots of the James legend.

And, quite frankly, the film that doesn’t have to deal with Kathy Bates going on about how Jesus is telling her it’s okay to bury the railroad men in the back has a slight advantage.

So why, you ask, does it make the cut for Stale Popcorn?  Those who know me know that I am not the biggest action film fan.  I can appreciate a well crafted action sequence with the best of them (if you see this one, look out for the “handcuff” balcony scene – you can’t miss it) but I’m a story girl to the end (perhaps it’s the writer in me?).  I need something more than a plot that resembles a double agent ping pong tournament (she’s good, she’s evil, she’s good, she’s evil).  I mean, come on!  She’s the main character I should at least know if she’s good or evil, right?  (P.S. for those of you who didn’t know, this movie was originally written for a male lead, slated to be played by Tom Cruise, until he opted for a little box office gem called Knight and Day…)!

For the majority of the film, I was suffering a minor anxiety attack trying to figure out if I should be cheering her on or crossing my fingers that Guantanamo was somehow in her future.  I won’t completely give up the ending for those of you who want to screen this one for yourselves, but suffice to say it left a pretty salty taste in my mouth.

Not to mention, I was completely distracted – James Newton Howard – by the original score which sounded like a choir menacingly chanting the word SALT over and over again.  SALT, SALT, SALT, SALT.  Just imagine the dark chanting.  SALT, SALT, SALT, SALT.  Creeeeeeepy.  But that might just be me.

And finally for the end – that pivotal point that can make or break a movie.  I would normally preface this with “I don’t want to give away the ending” but alas, dear friends, there really wasn’t one.  Seriously.  They probably should have slapped a “To Be Continued…” on the screen.  At least then they would have been openly admitting that they are crossing their fingers for gold and a multitude of sequels.  SALT, SALT, SALT, SALT.

So if you’re interested in some exciting action sequences, which I’m anticipating most people will be this summer, then head on over to your local cineplex because kick ass Angelina will totally be worth your buck.  I’m thinking from the reaction of most of my friends, who also previewed the movie; the box office for this flick will totally satisfy all the peeps at Sony.

I wasn’t the biggest fan, but I guess it’s not worth crying over split salt.

SALT, SALT, SALT, SALT.

Does it matter that the film is set for release this November and you haven’t heard of it yet?  Of course not.  You want to know why?  Because Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson is its star.  I can’t tell you how much I love Johnson.  It’s difficult to explain why, exactly.  Perhaps it’s his ridiculously bright smile.  Or the fact that he obviously spends way too much time at the gym and doesn’t seem like your typical, bench-pressing tool bag.  Maybe it has something to do with the idea that he could go from being a WWF (you know, when it was still a Federation and not just for Entertainment) star to playing a tooth fairy so effortlessly.  Whatever it is, the guy has an undeniable likeability factor.  So in spite of the fact that Faster looks like it’ll be about as Oscar-worthy as 2 Fast 2 Furious was, I’m still secretly hoping it’ll be successful enough to at least stay off our site.

Okay, maybe not so secretly hoping.  I was, after all, this close to being on set.  That’s like almost being an extra.  Watch out, Hollywood.

When I was growing up, roller skating was replaced with roller blading because, let’s face it, blading is way more hard core.  That looked something like this:

In more recent years roller skating has made something of a comeback, bringing with it the action and destruction of the roller derby:

And apparently, in the not-so-distant future, these things come together in the deadly sport known as Rollerball.  It’s a sport of heroes, of villains, of winners, of losers.  It’s a sport of beauty.

Who the hell am I kidding, this “sport” is ridiculous.  And the movie?  It’s difficult to find words… Well, maybe not THAT difficult.

The film, released in 2002, is a remake of a James Caan goodie from 1975.  Now, I have never seen the original Rollerball.  But judging from the trailer, I don’t really think I’m missing much:

From what I can tell, the newer Rollerball seems to be a pretty straight remake of the original: corporate society controls the world; a single sport (rollerball — because, somehow, in the future we’ve all given up on decent sports) unites the nations.  It’s not just the only sport in existence; it’s also the only form of entertainment.  And anyone who’s ever seen Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome knows that the future masses really only want to see injury and death.  So Alexis Petrovich (Jean Reno) decides to create a little extra destruction to improve the sport’s ratings.  Long story short, rollerball wonder-boy Jonathan Cross (Chris Klein, who at the time was probably best known for his role in American Pie, and although he was never a very good actor he wasn’t exactly painful to watch just because he had kind of an endearing smile, which has long-since faded into a poorly aging face and receding hairline) discovers Petrovich is rigging the game, and together with his teammates Marcus Ridley (LL Cool J, who for whatever reason was really popular in shitty movies ten years ago) and Aurora (Rebecca Romijn, when she was still Rebecca Romijn-Stamos, and you liked her just because she was married to John Stamos, who you liked because he played Uncle Jesse on Full House and, quite frankly, who didn’t watch that show in the early 90s) decides to take Petrovich down and bring the world of rollerball (and, by association, corporate society) to its knees.  It’s such a metaphor.

But if you’re going to remake a mediocre movie (and by all accounts the original Rollerball is… 6.5 stars on IMDb) then for God’s sake give it something new and exciting.  What did we get in 2002?  Rollerblades?  Seriously?  Who decided roller derby on steroids was the wave of the future?  Can we find that guy and beat him?

While we’re at it, can we find the casting director and beat him?  Individually, Klein, Cool J (is that what we would consider to be his last name, by the way?  And LL his first?  Or would his last name simply be J and Cool would be an extension of his first name?  How exactly is one supposed to address a rap “star”?), and Romijn are all tolerable.  For the most part, at least.  But to combine Klein’s overly dramatic facial expressions (witness below):

I'm really angry, guys. Can't you tell? Or is my guy-liner detracting from my angry face?

with Cool J’s token one-liners and Romijn’s dreadful attempt at an Eastern European accent (it’s difficult to tell exactly what she was going for) is a recipe for disaster.  And not in a good, this is so bad it’s kind of funny sort of way.

But the biggest problem with 2002’s Rollerball is that it’s kind of all over the place.  Is it about the downfall of human society?  The rise of corporations as political powers?  One man’s ability to overcome obstacles?  Is it a love story?  I really have no idea.  It certainly tries to be all of these things.  But so little effort is put into any single story line that they all kind of wind up being uninteresting.  I think I walked away from the film at least five times, and as soon as I came back I was able to pick up on exactly what was happening.  Either that or I was as equally confused at the end of the movie as I was at the beginning.

But whatever the case may be, one thing I think is pretty certain.  Rollerball?  Definitely NOT the wave of the future.  Actually, I’m thinking cricket might be making a comeback.  You want to talk about a violent sport…

Whatever.  I’m back now, which is really all that matters, right?

Being away from the site for so long did seem to create this strange, sort of nostalgic feeling in me though.  Perhaps that’s why I chose 1999’s remake of The Mod Squad first from my two-month stockpile of crappy movies.  The very mention of Claire Danes brings with it a flood of adolescent memories and teenage awkwardness.  It’s the kind of nostalgia that makes you happy to be out of high school.  So it’s fitting that The Mod Squad would have the same effect.  Kind of like, I remember when that was cool.  What the fuck was everybody thinking?

There are so many problems with this film it’s difficult to decide where to start.  The plot is confusing.  What I do know: three young delinquents (Julie, Pete and Linc, played by Danes, Giovanni Ribisi and Omar Epps, respectively) go undercover for the police department in order to keep their own asses out of jail; a dirty cop steals drugs from the evidence lock up, and it becomes the trio’s mission to figure out who it is; their mentor (Dennis Farina) is murdered, and it becomes the trio’s mission to figure out who did it; there’s a prostitution ring (?) that might be connected to a drug ring (?), and Julie was once involved with one of its members (Billy, played by Josh Brolin).  What I don’t know: pretty much everything else.  How did the trio get recruited to begin with?  Did they know each other before hand?  What’s the connection between the prostitution ring and the drug ring?  How did the cops get involved in them anyway?  I found myself spending so much time wondering what the hell was going on that I had lost interest entirely by the twenty minute mark.

Are you bored? I'm bored. Does anyone remember what we're supposed to be doing here?

The characters are terrible.  Danes is alright as the street-wise, no-nonsense Julie, and Epps offers sporadic comedic relief, but Ribisi’s Pete is nearly unbearable.  To say that his attempt at playing the quirky smart ass falls short is an understatement.  I love Ribisi, don’t get me wrong… I loved him in Boiler Room and Gone in Sixty Seconds.  Shit, I loved him as the narrator in The Virgin Suicides.  But as Pete?  Smart ass comes across as mentally unstable.  Or retarded, I can’t quite decide.  And it’s clear the filmmakers were trying to use his character as the comedic element, but the Abbott and Costello-esque relationship between he and Linc is ridiculous and predictable, right down to the lame subplot involving Pete’s inevitable destruction of Linc’s cherished car.

And on top of everything else, the writers decide to throw in a would-be romantic element with Julie.  I say would-be because it unfolds kind of like this: Julie’s realized her ex, Billy (who, by the way, is given absolutely no history… he’s pretty much just some guy who deals in drugs and hookers yet is still somehow appealing enough to land her in bed) is a part of the cop conspiracy.  She and Pete come up with a plan in which Julie would seduce Billy to get information.  Then, all of a sudden, Pete takes issue with the idea of Julie being with Billy, and Julie feels inclined to not only assure Pete that she didn’t actually have sex with Billy but to also slip into bed with him so that he can “hold her” for a while.  And then… that’s it.  Nothing else happens.  No kiss, nothing.  I don’t have a problem with keeping relationships platonic (it’s not like I’m dying to have every film I watch turn into a sappy romance novel), but if you’re going to do something at least commit to it and do it all the way.  Otherwise leave it out.  It’s unnecessarily confusing to write a storyline without a full arc.  Unless of course it’s done  in the hopes of completing said arc in the sequel.  But with The Mod Squad?  I doubt even the filmmakers were that optimistic.

And let me just say this about The Mod Squad (although it applies to every other film out there attempting to adapt a retro TV series for the big screen): Just because something was cool in the 60s and 70s doesn’t mean that it’ll hold up now.  I understand the nostalgia, that feeling you get when you think about your favorite TV shows from childhood.  I, too, have thought about the possibility of perhaps updating some of those wonderful series from back in the day (Full House 2.0?  No?  There could be a bright future for me on the CW…).  But just because you throw in some cheesy music and fancy editing (and by fancy editing I mean repeating the same shot 3-4 times in succession) doesn’t mean you’ll be able to recapture your youth.  Which brings me back to my original point: nostalgia isn’t always a good thing.  Thinking fondly about things like stirrup pants, scrunchy socks and side pony tails is much better when you don’t actually have to relive the style.  You understand my meaning.

Goodfellas, Scorsese take on the mob genre, is another example of this kind of peer-pressure movie. I can’t stand having to sit there at cocktail parties and nod my head at the contrived bullshit people spew. I’m tired of biting my tongue and not being able to let my true opinions out. Today I take my stand.

First off, enough with De Niro and Pesci, they play the same fucking character in every movie.  “Oh look, I’m Joe Pesci, I’m craaaazy.” Or, “I’m Bobby De Niro, I’m from New York, I’m always pissed off.” And Ray Liotta, well have you seen him in a bigger role since? There’s a reason for that.

As for the director? The movie is too long. I had to take a break a few times, and my remote didn’t work, so I never bothered to rewind it. I don’t know what I missed, but I’m sure it was full of “interesting” camera angles and classic rock music.

And how about enough with the cops and robbers huh Marty? How many of these are you going to pump out? It’s time to extend your wings and show some range.

Overall I was left completely dissatisfied with the ending. The whole movie felt kind of shallow and pedantic. And then to make another film just like it, with the same actors, only set it Las Vegas? I think one will suffice sir.

As I mentioned earlier, I’m taking a stand today. I will not be bullied into saying I like certain films because I’m supposed to like them. Suck it Goodfellas. Lord of the Rings? More like Lord of the Lame. Star Wars? Nope, it’s Star Bores in my opinion. Rise up against this sort of peer pressure too, because if you don’t put our foot down, we’ll just keep getting Scorsese gangster movies over and over and over again.

Have you ever browsed a video store and come across a film that makes you think, Hm.  This looks like it could be interesting.  And he was in it?  When the hell did he do this?  And why have I never heard of it? Did it go straight to video?  Is there a reason it went straight to video?  Maybe I should go ahead and rent it.  Then again, maybe I’ll just catch it on DirecTV in a few weeks. So you leave and go home, and lo and behold!, a few weeks later you’re scrolling through the channel guide when you come across that very film on Showtime.  And immediately after you watch it, you thank God you didn’t actually spend the five bucks to rent it.  Such was my experience with 2008’s Pathology.

The premise itself is actually kind of interesting.  Hot shot pathology doctors (if there is such a thing, of course) enter into a bet to see who can pull off the perfect murder.  In order to participate, however, each doctor must kill someone (preferably a vagrant or otherwise morally corrupt individual) and bring the body in for examination.  The point of the game is to commit a murder so ingenious that the other doctors are unable to determine a cause of death.  Some doctors, we discover, are as equally depraved as their murder victims (Jake Gallo, played by Michael Weston); while others, we find, have something of a conscience (Milo Ventimiglia as Ted Grey, the new guy in the lab, who’s both smarter and better looking than Jake).  I smell a rivalry!

Plot alone, Pathology seemed to have what it takes to be at least a minor success, so I’m not going to lay into the writers too hard on this one.  Plus, the casting kind of makes me smile… It’s as if every popular TV series of late decided to film a single reunion episode in a morgue.  Take the leads: Ventimiglia, although best known for Heroes has made rounds on Gilmore Girls and Law and Order: SVU.  Weston has also made an appearance or three on SVU, as Benson’s wrongfully-accused half brother, and, most recently, has had a recurring role on House M.D. Alyssa Milano (Charmed, Melrose Place, Who’s the Boss?) has near-top billing, even though she’s only actually in the film a grand total of like, twenty minutes.  Lauren Lee Smith (C.S.I., The L Word) and Johnny Whitworth (who’s had cameos on nearly every TV show on the CBS primetime lineup but who I have loved since 1995’s Empire Records) round out the cast as Juliette and Griffin.

I think Pathology’s biggest problem is that it assumes its audience is only interested in sex and drugs.  Granted, sex and drugs can be fun times, but I don’t need to watch the never-ending montages of nudity, sex in inappropriate places (a couple of feet away from a dead man on the floor of his shitty house?  I’ll pass, thank you), and passing around the ice pipe for ¾ of the movie.  I get it: an autopsy is just one big party!

Whoa, there’s a body there. Three days of sleep deprivation, I thought I was hallucinating. Awesome…

And then there’s the fact that I didn’t even realize Smith was the girl from C.S.I. until I looked it up on IMDb.  Who knew overt sexuality would somehow overshadow her acting chops?  And who could have guessed Milano would play the “good girl” in the film?  Did the casting directors mix up their notes somewhere along the way?

Of course, Pathology’s ultimate downfall could probably be attributed to its predictable ending.  Really, when you get down to it, every story can be classified as one of the following: man v. nature; man v. man; man v. the environment; man v. technology; man v. the supernatural; man v. self; and man v. God (flash back to ninth grade English much?).  For the most part, Pathology stays within the confines of man v. man (I think at some point it tries to venture into the world of man v. self, although Ventimiglia does a shitty job of selling the idea that he’s really against sex, drugs and murder when he participates in all three so willingly).  The film’s ending is inevitable: Bad Guy (Weston) murders Good Guy (Ventimiglia)’s fiancee in a final play at dominance, but FAILS because Good Guy figures out Bad Guy’s methods and turns the tables against him!, performing the same deadly act on Bad Guy as Bad Guy performed on Good Guy’s fiancee, thereby beating Bad Guy at his own game and coming out the ultimate victor.  It’s a recipe for an endless number of Hollywood fables.  Insert genre here.

Actually, I think the best part of the entire film can’t be seen in the actual film itself.  Rather, it’s something that can be found on the back of the DVD case (or bottom of the IMDb page).  It’s the MPAA rating.  And Pathology’s is as follows:

Rated R for disturbing and perverse behavior throughout, including violence, gruesome images, strong sexual content, nudity, drug use and language.

“Perverse behavior throughout”.  God, I love the MPAA.

Thank God I didn’t include six hour television miniseries in that classification!

Okay, okay.  Rose Red probably seems like a pretty easy target.  It’s difficult to find some good horror that was made for network television nearly ten years ago.   And to be perfectly honest, miniseries can be a difficult thing to pull off.  Six hours is either too much or too little time to tell a good story.  Keep it simple and by the second installment the audience has completely lost interest.  Too intricate and it’s like an entire life history is being regurgitated within seconds.  Ergo, by the second installment the audience has completely lost interest.  So the thought of giving Rose Red a pass had crossed my mind.  But, really, where would the fun be in that?

5. Stephen King doesn’t have the best track record with television adaptations.

Remember how good 1980’s The Shining was?  Jack Nicholson was phenomenal as lead character Jack Torrance; his son Danny was beyond creepy; and those damn twins?  I have trouble thinking about them to this day.  Plus, the film was just over two hours long, which was nice because not only were there the typical Kubrick-esque suspenseful moments, but the story also moved forward at a decent pace.  Remember, then, in 1997, when Stephen King decided he wanted to remake The Shining for television because he felt the Kubrick version strayed too far from his novel?  And he had Steven Weber from Wings play the lead?  And the whole thing was six hours long?  And incredibly boring because it was so cerebral?  Yeah, Rose Red feels a lot like that.  Six hours is a long time for a movie about a haunted house.  How much back story do you really need, anyway?  At some point, all of those mysterious deaths taking place in the house start to look the same… and there’s a difference between reading a book and seeing it play out in all its 500 page glory on the small screen.  King needs to learn how to down-size.

4. Can we stop it with the stereotyped characters already?

Look, I understand creating a good ensemble can be difficult.  Characters need to complement one another, and the greater the number of people in a story, the harder it is to maintain the audience’s interest in each one of them individually.  So the logical choice is to make them so completely different that there’s no chance of confusing their story lines.  Which is fine, except for the fact that sometimes personality stereotypes can be mistaken for personality differences.

Case in point: Emery Waterman, played by Matt Ross.  He’s overweight, nerdy, wears glasses, lives with his overprotective mother.  King could have done a lot with his character.  Being picked on throughout childhood definitely has a way of bringing on the emotional problems as an adult.  Emery could have been creepy, emotionally disturbed, and interesting without being over-written as a sniveling, whimpering shell of a man with a crazy mother who runs around the house screaming “Emery!  Emery!  Emerrrryyyyy!” just because he hasn’t called her in the last 24 hours.  And Annie Wheaton, the autistic fifteen year old key to unlocking the house’s psychic energy, played by Kimberly J. Brown.  Just because she’s autistic doesn’t mean she has to be obsessed with dolls:

all autistic teenagers play with dolls, don't they?

King writes her as mentally unstable, to the point of serious retardation.  I guess no one told him he didn’t have to assume the audience has the mental capacity of a five year old — a character doesn’t have to put herself in dangerous situations (reaching out for ghostly figures, standing on chair edges so she can touch a dollhouse encased in glass, etc.) just to prove she’s “special”.

3. When suspense ruins the horror and bad acting ruins the suspense, it’s time to rethink things.

Rose Red seems to try so hard to build suspense, any opportunity for real horror gets lost.  I don’t know if it’s just the fact that the filmmakers needed to fill six hours with something that they just happened to forget to add the scary parts, but it felt as though I was caught up in a lot of wandering, a lot of story-telling, and a lot of architectural history lessons, and I missed out on the whole horror/thriller aspect of the miniseries.  Plus, if you plan on making a film suspenseful, for the love of God get some decent actors to carry the story.  Even Emily Deschanel, who I truly enjoy on Bones, couldn’t save this thing from disaster.  Suspense requires subtlety, and if your actors are using big gestures and crazy eyes to get their points across, it tends to take one out of the experience.

2. Nancy Travis is obnoxious.

Can I just say that the lead could not have been any more horribly mis-cast?  What is Nancy Travis really known for, anyway?  So I Married an Axe Murderer?  It was a cute film, she had a cute role, but she wasn’t the lead.  And ten years later she still can’t carry a film.  Travis plays Professor Joyce Reardon with an unnatural amount of force; I get that she’s supposed to be a strong female, but lowering your voice to a creepy rasping sound to prove it doesn’t make you seem powerful.  It makes you seem crazy and unlikeable.  Actually, I don’t think I felt any amount of empathy for her character during the entire six hours.  And to sit through six hours of a film without liking the lead character in any sense is either poor writing or poor casting.  Or both, which just makes Rose Red’s failure a double-whammy.

1. You’re not Alfred Hitchcock.  You don’t need to make a cameo in every one of your films.

Just stop, Stephen.  I don’t need to see you as the goofy pizza delivery guy, neither does anyone else.

My expectations weren’t high for Whiteout (no one really went out to see it in the theaters, grossing about 12 mil domestic and internationally), but I pushed play, sat back and tried to enjoy it anyways. Save for the first few minutes, with the sweeping aerials and Beckinsale stripping down to her undies to take a shower, the rest is snore fest. After she’s done with her (all too brief if you ask me) shower, Carrie Stetko (Beckinsale) spends the rest of the film chasing a killer the audience already knows the identity of. I mean really, instead of a hot US Marshall, they could have sent a pothead and his equally stoned dog to find the killer and they would have been done in 20 minutes instead of 90.

Now I'm no Al Gore, but I do believe I know why the polar ice caps just started melting.

Another huge flaw with this movie is that director Dominic Sena feels the need to re-establish that it’s really, really cold in Antarctica, and with the impending storm, even more so. But then cut to the characters walking around in this really cold environment with their face fully uncovered (WTF?).

However, my biggest problem with Whiteout is it leaves a question I’ve had for a while unanswered still: can Kate Beckinsale act? Before you hastily answer no, I don’t think she’s had a role we can use to fairly assess her thespian chops. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt; a lot of pretty faces have come along and shown us there’s talent underneath their beauty. I can’t see any actress, talented or not, adding depth to Whiteout’s protagonist. So while I wait for Kate’s dare to be great role, I’ll continue to, ahem, amuse myself watching her run around as a vampire in skintight latex.