Order of the Phoenix: Daniel Radcliffe puts his clothes back on for the best Harry Potter film yet

The Harry Potter film series, so far, has been the one thing that the Harry Potter book series has never been. That is, inconsistent. J.K. Rowling may not have the...most...compelling...prose (readers of the series will get that little joke), but she spins one hell of a yarn.
But film has a way of cementing a world in its viewer's mind, and it's nearly impossible to read the most recent Potter books without picturing Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson in their respective roles. The most fun thing about the film series so far, in fact, is watching the leads and their cohorts grow both as people and (in some cases anyway) as actors.
It's the direction that has led to bumps in the road throughout the film series, and with Order of the Phoenix's David Yates being the fourth director in five films, it's easy to see why. There seem to be two different ways for a director to approach Rowling's material: either as holy writ, not to be changed; or as solid marble to be chipped away at to reveal the masterpiece underneath.

The good news is that Yates and screenwriter Michael Goldenberg have managed to corral the long and twisting story points of the nearly 900 page book and distill it into merely two hours of film time, the shortest Potter to date, and certainly the most exciting. The look and feel of the film are spot on, dark but not dreary as the storm brewing around Harry and his friends grows ever nearer, but not so oppressive that lighter moments like the Weasley twin's great escape from Hogwarts play false. The film is alive, with brilliantly done effects that fill in the edges of Rowling's world and bring you further into the story, rather than detracting from it (for instance, when Harry and Cho Chang share their kiss, the picture of Cedric Diggory that had been slyly grinning at Cho before can be seen scowling).

Harry's world certainly is more disturbing this time around, most specifically because Lord Voldemort has returned. But for most of the film even Voldemort is overshadowed by the smirking pink menace of Dolores Umbridge, brought vividly to life by Imelda Staunton. Her performance is perfect, wheeling from sinister to saccharine on a dime. She leads Harry into her office, filled with pictures of real, adorably mewing kittens and then tortures him by making him write "I must not tell lies" into the back of his hand. Her presence is more frightening, in a sense, than even that of the noseless, serpentine He-Who-Must-Not -be-Named, played by Ralph Fiennes. In Goblet of Fire I had trouble believing Fiennes as Voldemort, Order of the Phoenix gives us a much more terrifying Dark Lord.

The best sections of the film follow Harry and his group of friends as they band together to form 'Dumbledore's Army', learning practical defenses against the dark arts behind Umbridge's back. In these moments we find Harry, not quite the prick he is in the book, stepping forward as a mature hero. Again, having seen all these kids grow up on-screen adds to the genuine feeling of camaraderie between them. And long time followers of the books can feel even more involved with the characters, knowing, for instance why we get that shot of Ginny Weasley watching Harry and Cho after the D.A. meeting (and, I suspect, getting a lump in your throat to see Snape and Dumbledore, knowing what lies ahead).

One thing that is missing from the books are Ron's Quidditch matches, and the "Weasley is Our King" chants that go along with it. In fact, Ron and Hermione are placed on the sidelines for most of the film, and the scenes that they do have are primarily for comic relief or exposition. But the scenes are well handled, and Ron and Hermione's burgeoning romance believable.

As good as Emma Watson (of the eternally flared nostrils) and Rupert Grint are, this is the first Potter film that really feels like a star vehicle for Daniel Radcliffe. Never before have we had so many scenes that relied mostly on his performance to carry us through, and he, like his screen counterpart, steps up excellently. With his willingness to take risks (stripping down for a London performance of Eqqus) and not take himself too seriously (sending up his image on Extras), Radcliffe may have a life well past Harry Potter. Harry lying on the ground fighting with Voldemort inside of his head is not something you could have asked Radcliffe to pull off even two films back, but you believe Harry's struggle and pain. And, as ever, you cheer for him.

With a genuine actor on board, and a director who knows what he's doing signed for at least one more picture, the series is well poised to take on all the dark territory that Rowling has plotted ahead for it.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: A-

Matthew Guerrero

Misspent Youth Faking Up a Rampage: The Pumpkins (or two of them, anyway) return with Zeitgeist

Nearly ten years ago the Smashing Pumpkins split up in grand, messy fashion; with always dramatic frontman Billy Corgan proclaiming "We died for rock and roll. It will mean something twenty years from now." So while waiting for those twenty years to pass, Corgan fulfilled all the requirements for the fading rock star:

Decent album with second, awkwardly named band (2003's Mary Star of the Sea by Zwan)? Check.
Embarrassing book of ::ahem:: 'poetry'? Check.
Head scratching electronica-infused solo album? Check.
Whiny public appeal to former bandmates? Check and check.

So now Corgan returns to the Pumpkins name, with 'just glad to have a gig' Jimmy Chamberlain in tow on Zeitgeist. The problem is, there are a dozen other bands out there doing the old SP shtick, and some of them (My Chemical Romance with last year's Black Parade) are doing it just as well as the Pumpkins at their height. So Zeitgeist comes out into a musical world that's not asking for it, manufactured by a man who's not so much growing up as growing old.

The album that results is all sound and fury, signifying precious little. Oh, there are highlights ("Doomsday Clock" is good rockin' fun), and echoes of Corgan's guitar-god youth (the made-for-shredding "Tarantula"), but for every brilliant solo there is a weak lyric, messy vocal, and twelve songs that pretty much all sound the same.
Beginning with 2000's Machina and the internet only Machina II, Billy seemed lost in his head and unsure. And instead of using that insecurity to his advantage like on the soul-bearing Siamese Dream, he hid behind meaty power chords and Jimmy's brilliant drumming. Most of Zeitgeist's tracks follow the same pattern.

Not that any of the songs are terrible, it's just middle-of-the road, uninspired alt-rock. "Seven Shades of Black" and "Bleed the Orchid" would be more at home on something by Collective Soul or Seven Mary Three. And the album's vaguely political stance seems more like a piggy-backing nod to Green Day's career-rejuvenating American Idiot than any genuine patriotic rage.

Billy seems to need collaborators to push him, or at least to add a different dimension to his sound. He may have played most of the guitar and bass tracks on Siamese Dream, but James Iha got co-writing credit on that album's "Mayonaise" , maybe the finest moment of the Pumpkin's career. And in Zwan, surrounded by supremely talented musicians, Billy seemed freer and more at ease than ever before (or since).

So for the casual rock fan it may be good crashing fun, but to Pumpkinheads a warning: this is not what we've been waiting for. Take heart, though, at the example of another huge band that split up and reunited to ever-greater success; it took Aerosmith two lukewarm albums before it struck gold again with Pump.
There's always hope that someone as talented as Billy can take the guitars back down to ten and produce a truly mature classic. He's got ten more years to make good.

The Smashing Pumpkins; Zeitgeist: C+


Stop reading this blog and download this track immediately:

"Tarantula". For three minutes and fifty-one seconds, it's 1995 again. Ranks with the best songs in the SP canon.

Matthew Guerrero

We Have to Go Back, Kate:LOST Season Three in review

The first episode of the Third Season of LOST was A Tale of Two Cities and, for LOST fans, it was definitely the best of times and the worst of times.
There's no way around it, LOST lost steam this season, the wacky scheduling didn't help (a six episode 'mini-series' and then three months off the air before 16 straight episodes), but the larger problem lie in the heart of the show itself, characters that we knew and loved took a back seat to new people and locales. The same thing happened with the Tail-Section survivors last season, but by the ninth episode, things were back to status quo. It took sixteen episodes this year for Jack to make it back to camp. The show suffered as a result, and once all our regulars were reunited you realized that the chemistry of the cast cannot be taken for granted. As soon as Jack got back, it was our show again.
This is not to say that this season was horrible, as some have claimed. On an individual episode basis, the show still delivered (with a few glaring exceptions), but the show seemed to lack a steady overall direction, and the flashback sections of each episode seemed less and less important to the development of the characters.

And then, Jack showed up with a strange new beard.

From the beginning of Through the Looking Glass, you realize something's amiss: this hyper-depressed Jack doesn't seem to fit in with his timeline as we know it. By the end of the episode, you know it's Kate coming out of that car by the runway. But that doesn't make you any less giddy at the prospect: the show is now flashing forward.
This is not only brilliant from a story-telling standpoint, it essentially saved the show. My only hope with the flash forwards, and the continuing island story is that by Season Five or Six, they come looping into one another, Memento style.

But it's not just the last episode that was brilliant, LOST's writers, directors, and actors proved their worth to their fans, their detractors, and (most importantly) ABC with a May sweeps run of episodes that rank among the show's finest. In The Brig, Sawyer finally confronts, in brutal fashion, the man the he's been chasing all his life. The scene where he wraps the chain around Cooper's neck and screams "You wanna see hell?!" may be LOST's most intense moment ever. But the next week, we had the show's best cliffhanger yet when Ben shoots Locke and leaves him to die in the mass grave that holds the remnants of the Dharma Initiative. The following episode was a long goodbye to one of the show's most loved characters, as Charlie considered his mortality, counting down his 'greatest hits', a genuinely moving episode, not a mere set-up for the finale.
And what a finale. The best episode of LOST ever; from Jack's head-spinning flash forward, to Charlie's death, to Hurley's rescue of the folks at the beach, to Jack's pummeling of Ben, every minute is gripping.

So here's a look at where we are, three seasons into a show that can still be called the best on network television.


JACK
We lost track of Jack for a large part of the middle of the season, and that was part of the reason that the season drug. Because as often boring and prickish Jack can be, he's our guy. And his role as a leader on the island came under fire after his stay with the Others and his trust in Juliet. Not much was fleshed out about Jack's past in the flashbacks, so little in fact that the necessity of flashbacks at all was called into question.
After the finale, we know why we've seen no great tragedy or secret in Jack's past; we've been watching the great tragedy in Jack's life. His role as leader to the survivors and whatever mistake it was he made in getting them off the island. Credit to Matthew Fox for scaling back the 'crazy Jack face' he relied on so often in Season Two. Season Three Jack is, like Season One Jack, someone you'd want believe in, even if he struggles to believe in himself.
And I loved future Jack with his chia-beard. Especially in his SUV blaring Nirvana's "Scentless Apprentice" on the way to the funeral of...somebody (apprentice? another Locke in the casket clue?). Future Jack and the way he bounces off his fellow 815 survivors has suddenly made LOST fun again.


LOCKE
Welcome back the wild-card, welcome back the hunter, welcome back the potential psychopath. We believe more in this John, but what (still!) is his connection to the island? And why did he have to ace poor, beautiful Naomi like that?
Locke in the coffin makes the most sense, because no survivor would want to attend his funeral after witnessing him attempt to keep them on the island, and especially Kate who was admonished by Locke for being a bad person the last time she saw him before he joined with the natives. And who would attend John's funeral? He has nobody.
Although, it seems unlikely that John will ever leave the island. And even if everyone else gets off, it will be through John's eyes that we learn the island's remaining secrets, like the nature of the bad ass Smoke Monster.


SAWYER
Instead of great relief at finally accomplishing his life's mission, after James Ford killed the man whose name (and life) became his own he became even darker and more withdrawn, killing Tom in cold blood and snapping at Kate's notion of a pregnancy.
But did he really kill the right man? He has a history of that kind of mistake, after all. And the island can conjure up pretty much anyone it wants. The island gives you want you want: so of course Locke's dad shows up, and when faced with Sawyer he tells him what he wants to hear. Was the real Anthony Cooper the 'real Sawyer'? We may never know.
And all this after Sawyer was coming to a kind of peace with his role in the camp. In the last few episodes, Josh Holloway brought a depth to the character that he never had before.


KATE
All the big question marks for Kate's character lie ahead. Is she with Sawyer? Someone else? And why didn't she end up with Jack? Perhaps because thanks to the island's super-sperm count, Sawyer did indeed knock her up?
Kate served mostly as a grounding presence for the show this season, a familiar face to bounce off of the Others, and go running through the jungle tied to Juliet.
Oh, and why is Future Kate free? She did kill a man, you know.


DESMOND
I was perfectly happy with Desmond saying 'Brotha' all the time because he was, you know, Scottish. But not so, according to the Catch-22 flashback. He was going to be a monk, you see. Or, a 'brother', if you will.
Whatever.
I am so glad, silly flashback aside, that Michael Ian Cusick made the regular roster and survived last season's hatch explosion because I think he's one of the better actors on the show. And I like Des, and I like Penny, and I like that love story so much, cheesy as all hell though it may be.
Desmond seeing the future is an interesting twist, and I liked how he played off of Charlie, maybe it's just the 'fun with accents' thing, but I thought Michael and Dom Monaghan worked great together.
But what happens with Desmond after he gets off the island and reunites with Penny? Will he be willing to go back with Jack, or will comfortable, cowardly Des take over?


SAYID
Sayid's flashback in Enter 77 was a great part of a bad episode, probably the highlight of the middle of the season, especially Naveen Andrew's performance.
Sayid stepped up a bit in importance during Jack's absence and had one of the season's great, camera winking lines: ("How do you know to go North?" "By the way the light hit Eko's stick at his funeral.")
Also: during the finale, when Jack thinks Ben is about to kill Sayid, Jin, and Bernard, you heard the Iraqi Sayid Jarrah saying over Ben's walkie "We do not negotiate with terrorists." Ha!


SUN & JIN
Sun and Jin's arc over the season, while a minor note, was well played. From Sun unwittingly setting holy hell on Sawyer by killing Danny's woman, Colleen; to Jin's confrontation with a man that he doesn't know slept with his wife; to Sun's weeping acceptance of her fate as she finds out that the baby is Jin's.
Just another example of the show's ability to keep characters in the background most of the time, and then pack a wallop with them when the spotlight's on.


JULIET
An excellent addition to the cast, and really the first new character since the pilot episode with real depth and motivation (well, there was Mr, Eko, but, well...). Her back story was well fleshed out, and she may be the largest piece of the 'why is future Jack a mess?' puzzle.


HURLEY
Oh, maybe he didn't do much this season but we like Hurley. And we learned that Cheech Marin was his dad! No wonder he's so screwed up and ran to the comfort of Apollo bars and ranch dressing. But Hurley's episode was great fun, and his VW bus rampage through the camp in the finale was pure, crowd-pleasing bliss.
I wonder: what happens to sweet old Jabba after he gets off the island and back to his millions of dollars?


CLAIRE
She's Jack's sister. She has a baby. Charlie loves her.
That's pretty much all we know or need to know about Claire, but every once in awhile you get hints at greatness from her character. I think Emilie De Ravin is capable of more, maybe her flash forwards will give her more purpose, especially as Aaron grows up.


BEN
Oh, thank you.
Michael Emerson is the sickest fuck that you ever had a blast watching be the heavy. Evil is so much fun, especially in his theater-ready delivery. And Ben's flashback was fascinating, even if we still don't know who or what Jacob is.
And how evil is Ben Linus? Does he, in his own twisted way, really have the best interests of the survivors and his own people at heart? Future Jack certainly seems to think he's made a mistake getting off the island, just like Ben said he would.
And, after all, he gave he order to pretend to kill Sayid, Jin, and Bernard.
Who is he really, at his core? I'm more interested in that mystery than the four-toed statue.


CHARLIE: R.I.P.
He was expendable, sure. And had they chickened out of killing Charlie after half a season of build up, fans probably would have given up on the show for good.
But what a way to go.
There is a moment right before Charlie dies, when he's already completely underwater, after he's given the message 'NOT PENNY'S BOAT' to Desmond. He nods, and Des nods, and Charlie realizes (maybe for the first time) that he's really going to die. It's amazing acting from Dom Monaghan, particularly while submerged. And then he floats back, crosses himself, and Charlie Pace dies.
It hits harder than you ever would have expected. We'll miss you, mate.


EKO: R.I.P.
Maybe he was a prick on set, but surely he could have stuck around a little longer? Eko was a great character, he played off of Locke brilliantly. I thought he was important to the future of the show, but I guess he did prove again that the monster is not to be underestimated.


MICHAEL & WALT
So hands up, who thought the producers were lying, or at least vamping, when they said they had Walt's growth 'accounted for' in the overall arc of the show?
I certainly did, but with the flash forwards it all makes sense now. Oh, but what becomes of Michael after the survivors get off the island, and reveal his dirty little secret? Or are they not able to? Jack said he was 'sick of lying'. Lying about what?
And apparently many people think that's Walt in the casket, but why would Kate be so adamant about not attending poor little Walt's funeral?
Seeing how these guys play into the future storylines of the show is something I'll be anxiously awaiting in Season Four.


EPISODE RATINGS

A Tale of Two Cities
We meet Juliet and see the Other's camp for the first time; meanwhile Jack keeps crying and makes a witless escape attempt. Good job, buddy.
A


The Glass Ballerina
We officially learn that Sun is in fact a slut and that 'Henry Gale' is actually Benjamin Linus. To celebrate the revelation, Ben takes Jack to a baseball game.
A


Further Instructions
Placeholder Locke flashback; Boone with inexplicably long hair; bad CG polar bears.
B-


Every Man for Himself
Ben tortures a bunny. A bunny! Fucker.
A-


The Cost of Living
Wherein we learn absolutely nothing new about Mr. Eko, and then he dies. Boo.
C-


I Do
Mid-Season cliffhanger, whatever that means. Not a bad one, though: "Kate, dammit, run!"
A-


Not in Portland
Trippy Clockwork Orange videos and people shooting other people (Juliet icing Danny) with no apparent motivation? LOST is back!
B+


Flashes Before Your Eyes
Better than you thought it was, but yes, confusing. You're not the only one checking your watch.
B


Stranger in a Strange Land
Give me a tattoo, damn you! Worst. Episode. Ever.
D-


Tricia Tanaka is Dead
Advances the story in zero ways, but so damn fun nobody notices.
A


Enter 77
First episode in a long time where the flashback (Sayid's) was much better than the on-island stuff. And what's up with Locke?
C-


Par Avion
Can be summed up in one of two sentences, depending on what kind of person you are: 'Yes, Claire is Jack's sister.' or 'Goth Claire is yummy.'
B-


The Man from Tallahassee
Locke's dad pushes him out of a window. Ok, he's a dick, we get it. Amazing acting by Terry O'Quinn, just amazing.
B-


Expose
Poochie's dead!
Unloved newbies Nikki and Paolo kill each other, which ironically breathes new life into the show.
A


Left Behind
What's this? Kate episodes can be entertaining? Go on.
B+


One of Us
Juliet's evil. No, she's not. Wait-yes she is. Oh, ummm...help.
A-


Catch-22
Desmond and Charlie do a little male bonding in the woods.
B-


D.O.C.
Sun's baby really is Jin's, which means she's going to die, but that she's happy. So now I feel bad for calling her a slut before.
B+


The Brig
So this is what sweeps are all about! Sawyer meets the man of his dreams. "You wanna see hell??!!"
A-


The Man Behind the Curtain
Ben goes from sadistic little weasel to Adolf Hitler. Great, great cliffhanger with Locke in the mass grave.
A


Greatest Hits
Dom Monaghan makes us care about Charlie for the first time since he kicked smack.
A+


Through the Looking Glass
More exciting, intelligent, mysterious, and inventive than any blockbuster film in years. This is what television can be.
A+


LOST; Season Three: B+

Matthew Guerrero

New Comic Roundup: All Star Superman & Thor

ALL STAR SUPERMAN #8:
Us Do Opposite
Writer: Grant Morrison
Artist: Frank Quitely

All-Star Superman has been the best superhero title on the shelves since it began at the end of 2005 (nearly two years in we're only at issue #8, this is what modern comic fandom is like). With each issue you can see Grant Morrison and collaborator Frank Quitely pushing each other to the limits of their creativity, and that certainly continues here. There's only one problem with issue #8:

You can't understand half the fucking thing.

When last we saw our hero, he was trapped on the Bizarro homeworld, Htrae (Earth backwards, get it?) with little hope of escape; the first true cliffhanger in the series so far. At the start of #8, Supes strolls through Htrae (my brain hurts just looking at that word) with Zibarro, a genetic freak to his people, and a sensitive soul: "Must only Zibarro see the beauty is a sunset?...I'm as trapped here as you." he tells Superman. In Zibarro's plight, the issue finds its greatest strength. By the end, with Superman almost literally melting away, his powers leaving him one by one, it is Zibarro who we pity as he says, "there only seems to be room for one on your rocket ship."
The final moment, with Zibarro waving goodbye to Superman as he heads back to Earth is genuinely poignant, but retains some of the wicked sense of humor we've come to expect from Morrison and Quitely: notice that the Bizarro statue of liberty lying there, Planet of the Apes style, is holding half a pair of nunchucks.
But the problem here, again, is that you can't follow half the dialogue. Oh, the plot is perfectly clear (even if it seems that Supes should have figured out that whole reverse psychology thing from the beginning), it's the Bizarro language that is practically impenetrable. A typical exchange: "Me no sad now me no different from all! Me want responsibility! And me am no sick of Superman insults!"
Grant is clearly having fun here, and after careful deciphering you can follow along, but it seems a little more trouble than it's actually worth. But the Bizarro national anthem (naturally, a twisted version of our own) is pure hilarious genius.
If Grant gets a bit carried away, it's Quitely who grounds the issue. His touch with expression and posture is unparalleled, and that gift lends power and weight to the scenes of a weary Superman leaning on the resigned Zibarro for strength. And check out Quitely's Lois Lane, learning of Superman's illness (an illness which started waaaaay back in issue #1, almost two years ago like I said):She's furious, terrified, and vulnerable all in one shot. You can practically see her holding back tears. All-Star Superman may be a bit confusing this time around, but it's still capable of rare beauty.

All Star Superman #8: B+


THOR #1
Writer: J. Michael Straczynski
Artist: Oliver Coipel

The comics world had pretty much forgotten about the mighty Thor. Ragnarok had come and gone and Asgard, home of the most depressing mythology in world history, was gone. Then came Civil War, and Thor's exciting, Goliath killing cameo. Ok, so it was a clone (or something), but the fact remained: we liked seeing the great blonde mullet head again. And though the real Thor would never use his powers in the same way as his deadly clone, the Civil War moment underscored the bad ass nature of those powers.


So, naturally, we have a relaunch now. J. Michael Straczynski seems, like his character, energized and reborn from the Civil War. His Amazing Spider-Man books were the best of the Civil War tie-ins by far, and the first issue of the new Thor is rollicking fun. In a sense, JMS is the perfect writer for the new project, because with a god at his disposal, he'll have carte blanche to go wild with the kind of supernatural hokum that derailed much of his Spidey run. And he's having fun, obviously: "It is not for the gods to decide whether of not man exists--it is for man to decide whether or not the gods exist." Oooh, deep!
But the star of the book is Oliver Coipel, just one of Marvel's Murderer's Row of young artistic talent (along with Steve McNiven and David Finch, Marvel may soon have the kind of artistic explosion that DC had with writers like Alan Moore, Frank Miller, and Grant Morrison back in the 80's). Coipel was the only reason the read the dreadfully disappointing House of M, and he has a crisp and vibrant style with action.
The issue is entertaining, if muddled, but a good deal better than your typical relaunch. Instead of overwhelming us with exposition of where Thor is and has been all this time, JMS uses his character's confusion to his advantage, as we watch Thor struggle back to life. Mark Morales on inks and Laura Martin on colors add a lot to the issue, the thunderbolts crackle with power and the monsters are rendered with disgusting detail.
It's a fun issue, and a wide-open world for these two well matched collaborators.

Thor #1: B

Matthew Guerrero

White Man's Blues: The Stripes' roar is back on Icky Thump

They say that all the great home run hitters in baseball history; Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, the Negro League's Josh Gibson; all had one thing in common: the powerful sound they made when they made contact with the ball. A shared, mighty wallop. A deafening CRACK.



Likewise, when Jack White slams a power chord at the same time that fake-sister Meg pounds her drumkit there is a signature sound produced. It's the sound that cuts jagged holes through 'The Big Three Killed My Baby' and propelled the hurtling boogie of 'Let's Build a Home' off their self-titled debut. It's the sound that drove 2001's White Blood Cells to heavy rotation and made the follow up, 2003's Elephant the best rock album in the last 20 (30? 40?) years. And, notably, it's the sound missing from 2005's Get Behind Me Satan. Or if it's there at all, it's in watered down, weary form. Jack White's songwriting chops were still on display, but there was a dreariness that enveloped the album and made it less than satisfying.

That sound, that blast, that drive, that CRACK is here again on Icky Thump.

Back from a side project, The Racontuers, that produced one of last year's best albums, Jack White is a man reborn. Jack the howling, imprecise guitar god is back, assaulting the southern end of the fretboard with naked ferocity. The sounds he strangles out of his instrument are as raw and violent as any the Stripes have ever put on record, and capture the wild charisma of their live shows. 'Icky Thump', 'You Don't Know What Love Is (You Just Do What You're Told)', and the fire and brimstone 'Catch Hell Blues' are arena-ready and huge.
But, as always, the band tempers its post-punk blues attack with songs alternatingly delicate and grandiose. They are the most 'cinematic' band around, from the fresh-from-the-moors hymn 'Prickly Thorn But Sweetly Worn' to the horn-fueled freakout 'Conquest'. If Quentin Tarantino ever gets around to making that Kill Bill Volume 3 he's always hinting at, 'Conquest' will be the song blaring through the opening credits.


'Prickly Thorn' is a wonder, both a tribute to and deconstruction of centuries of melancholy folk ditties. Beautifully understated bagpipes (it's easy to forget that they can produce tones this solemnly lovely since we're only used to hearing them played during cop's funerals in movies) accompany a high, ghostly vocal from Jack: "One sound can hold back a thousand hands/when the pipe blows a tune forlorn/and the thistle is a prickly flowerAye/but how it is sweetly worn."
But it's a moment in 'Martyr for My Love For You' that proves just how far the Stripes have come as artists; the song mirrors the passioned frustration of its narrator as he lusts after a schoolgirl, the halting tune of the verses giving way to grand electric fuzz in the bridge. As Jack sings "You'll probably call me a fool and say I'm doing exactly what a coward would do/and I'm beginning to like you, it's a shame what a lame way to live, but what can I do?/I hope you appreciate what I do..." the music builds in anticipation but washes out gently, the sound of a tired man coming regretfully to his senses, and Jack finishes the line "...I'm a martyr for my love for you."

By the third spin you realize that Icky Thump isn't merely a return to form, but the best album that Jack and Meg have made yet.

The White Stripes; Icky Thump: A+

Stop reading this blog and download this song immediately:

"Rag and Bone". Everything you ever loved about The Stripes mashed into one irresistible beat. Jack barks, Meg teases and the sun shines a little brighter on a pile of junk. "If it's just things that you don't want, I can use 'emMeg can use 'em.We can do something with 'em.We'll make something out of 'em. Make some money out of 'em, at least."


Matthew Guerrero

Sweet Silvery Jesus:The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer Review

The first Fantastic Four film, while bad (even very bad), was a bit of harmless fun. If you could get past the changes to traditional Fantastic Four continuity, like Victor Von Doom going up into space with our heroes and getting blasted with cosmic radiation and the casting of Jessica Alba turning the uber-maternal Sue Storm into a mall walking Valley Girl, you could have one hell of a good time. The bottom line with superhero films is always the action sequences and the first film delivered there, with impressively choreographed sequences that showcased all the individual team member’s powers and how they fit together.

But what sets the truly great superhero films (Spiderman 2, Batman Begins, and uh…uhhh…) apart from the bad ones (Ghost Rider, Daredevil, Elektra, Superman Returns, Batman and Robin, and so on ad infinitum) is what happens between those action sequences. The great films use that time for genuine character development , to envelop you completely in the alter-ego’s life so that when the punches start flying you care about the consequences (the biggest GASP in the theater when I saw Spiderman 3 was not from the hard-hitting high-flying action but the moment when Peter Parker hits Mary Jane). The bad superhero films fill the space between the punches with flat, jokey dialogue and in-your-face, blandly delivered exposition.

The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer is the second kind of superhero film.

Throughout their existence, and especially in the Lee-Kirby golden years , the Fantastic Four stood apart from other superheroes because they were first and foremost a family. This meant that who Johnny was dating or if Ben was pouting was just as important as which member of the Skrull Empire was invading the planet this month. It also meant that there were not the same kind of tidy resolutions that were going on over at DC, problems lingered and developed into personal crises which oftentimes spilled over into their gloriously rendered space battles. In the films that translates into the four team members squabbling constantly over petty matters, prompting an Army General to shout ‘What the hell is wrong with you people?!’

Well, General, plenty is wrong with these people and in some cases it begins with the people themselves. Jessica Alba is one of the biggest stars in the world, a fact which only makes sense when you realize that Paris Hilton is as well.
And David Hasselhoff.
And Pamela Anderson.
Jessica is a beautiful girl, but it’s time at last for a straight male to say it: she is a terrible actress. Her eyes are so blank and empty that she seems to be planning her next text message as she waits for the other actors to finish their lines. Her delivery is so breathy and phone sex that when she embraces her brother on her wedding day, you half expect them to start making out.

She’s not helped by the script, which hands us a Sue Storm (soon to be Richards) who is arbitrarily pouty and selfish. Poor Reed! Gee, honey, I’m sorry that I might be a little distracted from our wedding by the mysterious interstellar force that could destroy our planet. But Sue not only pouts, she suggests that after the Four corral this pesky Silver Surfer (or Silver…Surfer, as Ioan Gruffudd intones in full-on Bill Shatner mode) fellow that Sue and Reed might, y’know step away from the superhero game and, like, have kids and junk. It’s ridiculous to put those words in Sue’s mouth and even more ridiculous to have Reed AGREE (!). The worst part, though, is that we can see twenty scenes down the line to the moment where Reed and Sue realize the error of their ways and how important it is that the Four stick together. There a dozens of moments like this, scenes that are clearly the set-up to a ‘moment’ later on in the film that are delivered with all the subtlety of a good old fashioned clobberin’ by Ben Grimm.

Oh, but you almost wish that Sue and Reed would leave Johnny and Ben alone. Because their exchanges, and the goddamn fun that Michael Chiklis and Chris Evans seem to be having with their characters, give the film its only life.

Chris Evans may be a gigantic star in the making. He seems to have walked in from another movie where they’re having a lot more fun, and drinks are on the house. Hell, Johnny Storm even shows a bit of (GASP) character development. It’s a bit surprising in a movie this dull to be kind of hoping that Johnny can win over that icy but gorgeous Army chick. After all, we know he’s not a bad guy. He’s just very pleased with himself. And Evans also seems much more at home with the action moments than the rest of the cast, the moment where he realizes that he is the key to stopping Doctor Doom and the sequence that follows, with Johnny going all Super Skrull and combining the powers of the Four to wallop Doom is genuinely, finally cool.

Also cool are the special effects. The movie at least looks great, and the Silver Surfer’s first few appearances give you hope for an exciting climax, but we don’t get that either. The Surfer was always one of Jack ‘King’ Kirby’s goofier creations (an alien on a surfboard named Radd? Pull the other one, Jack), so it’s no surprise that the inherent silliness lingers a bit in his screen debut. But the filmmakers go one step further than the King, making Norrin Radd Sue Storm’s own personal Jesus, saving her life with his cosmic energy. Energy which is pretty much capable of doing whatever the filmmakers and Julian McMahon’s agent require (‘My client’s too fucking pretty to be behind a mask all film!’). But the Surfer as a spaced-out Deux Ex Machina doesn’t end there, he takes out Galactus at film’s end by firing a blast of energy shaped like a freaking cross.

And while we're on the subject of Sue's near-death-experience: why does she jump in front of the Surfer to block him from Doom's silver lance thingie? She knows damn well that the cosmic powers of the board can defeat her force fields (the Surfer ::ahem:: penetrated her defenses earlier). Why doesn't she just use her force-field to, say, push the Surfer out of the way of the aformentioned silver lance thingie? Because once again, the film needs to stage a 'moment'.

Oh, and to finally answer the question that so many geeks have been asking ahead of the film’s release, Galactus is not the 500 foot tall, purple-clad dude of the comics, but rather an intergalactic force, wrapped in a cloud of…whatever. Because a silver alien on a surfboard and a man made of orange rocks are one thing, but a humanoid Galactus would just be, you know, weird. But the Surfer seems to refer to this cloud as ‘him’, and do we catch just a hint of a face in the cloud, or even the horned silhouette of the classic Galactus? We don’t know. Or care, by that point.

There is one moment that encapsulates everything that is wrong with this film: the moment in which Victor Von Doom throws a Latervian metal worker to his death in blind fury, for no apparent reason. Are skilled metal workers so plentiful in Latervia that Doom can dispose of them so easily? The mind reels with the implications. But the movie doesn’t care. It moves on, leaving you baffled.

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer: D

Matthew Guerrero

The Best Onion Rings in North Jersey:The Sopranos' cut to black, and why it works

Gotcha.

Imagine David Chase on the balcony of a Manhattan highrise, cigar drooping from one side of his mouth, glass of brandy cradled gently in one hand, surveying the New York skyline. He checks his watch, it’s three minutes until 10. It won’t be long now.
He takes a drag from his cigar and waits. Below him the city begins to murmur, a million sharp bangs on a million television sets, a million fingers desperately dialing cable companies. And then, in unison:

‘What the FUCK?!!!’

You win, David. We all expected holy retribution to come raining down on the no-longer-sympathetic Tony Soprano. All question of whether or not Tony deserved punishment, six seasons of wondering if there was anything worth saving inside that homicidal teddy bear, any hope of redemption for Tony died with Christopher.

As he stood in the cold, cutting off his nephew’s (cousin, whatever) air passages, we saw at long last the real Tony Soprano. The one that Carmela and the family, that Sylvio and the boys, that the ineffectual Dr. Melfi never see. The man who killed Chris was heartless and calculating, not so much cruel as dead and hollow inside. In short, the man we finally saw in that brief moment was Livia Soprano’s son. ‘You won’t pass a drug test? Well ‘poor YOU.’

Remember Livia? She’s been gone for well over half the length of the series, but she lingers on in the words and actions of her children. Consider Janice sitting n her chair in the late Johnny Sac’s old house quipping to her brother, ‘Guess I’ve got to snag me a new husband now.’ She tells Tony ‘You’re the only one who would know I’m kidding.’ But she’s not kidding, and in fact, Tony is the only who knows how very serious she is. Bobby’s death is just another inconvenience to Janice, there is none of the harrowing sorrow and passionate sense of loss that she showed all those years ago when Richie put a fist in her face and she put a bullet in his chest. Witness her coldness to Bobby’s kids, ‘Your father just died? Well poor YOU.’

And so we return to David Chase up there on his fictional balcony, snuffing out his brilliant creation as swiftly and coldly as Tony killing Chris, with as little warning as Janice whacking Richie at the dinner table.

‘You didn’t get the bloodbath you wanted? Well poor YOU.’

What we did get was a brilliant episode, and any grumbling about the ending, which cuts to dead black silence (I kept thinking of the Beatles’ “She’s so Heavy”), is understandable. But, as we should remember, this is not a series that comes with any payoffs. ANY. Every time we expected a zig, Chase and company zagged, with the exception of season two’s Big Pussy whacking. Every other time, from Carmela’s flirtation with Furio to the sudden and gruesome dispatch of Ralphie at Tony’s bare hands, Chase and his crew run the show more in line with the random hum of daily existence than the intricate patterns of modern drama.

So at series end we are left with a Tony who has no real enemies left, sitting in front of Satriale’s alone with Paulie, and we can only think back to the other Satriale’s scenes in seasons past, when the tables were filled with characters, with Tony’s friends, now long gone. Perhaps those tables are soon to be filled with AJ and his friends? All of the iconic ‘Tony’ moments in the episode belong instead to his son, chatting with the leggy psychiatrist and shuffling down to breakfast in robe, wife beater, and gold chain. And witness AJ’s reaction to the destruction of his SUV: this is a kid reborn to the possibilities of destruction.

These are characters, no, these are people whose actions are entirely dictated by their sense of fear. Basic, primal fight or flight response is what drives everyone on the show, especially Tony (witness the end of Season Five, stumbling through the snow to evade the feds, grunting like the bear that haunted the Soprano’s backyard all season long). That fear is at the root of the series, most vividly in Tony’s depression and panic attacks. And finally, at the end of the series, instead of a brutal gangland payoff, David Chase takes us into the heart of that fear.

Tony arrives at a restaurant unfamiliar to us. These are not the friendly (if just a bit icy) confines of Artie Bucco’s place. Tony flips through a jukebox on the table, and selects Journey. “Don’t Stop Believing” fills the air, and the door opens. We focus first on a trucker, whose hat reads USA. Behind him is Carmela, who joins Tony. The song plays on, singing of hope and faith, but the scene is uneasy. We are trained and loyal Sopranos viewers, we know this is merely the calm before the storm. And we see the trucker again.

The door opens, Tony’s focus comes to it again. A dark man in a Member’s Only jacket comes in, and stares at Tony with seeming purpose. Behind him is AJ, who joins his parents. The camera comes back to the dark man, who could be any one of the faceless soldiers we’ve seen on this show since the beginning. Faceless like the guy who took down Phil Leotardo in bloody (and, ok, hilarious) fashion just minutes before. Outside, Meadow is attempting to parallel park her car. Mentally, the viewer is doing the math: will the entire family be taken down? Or only Meadow, outside? Will she be safe, will any of them?

The tension is unbearable. There is small talk at the family’s table. The dark man goes to the bathroom. Our mind races to Godfather part one, to Michael Corleone and the gun in the stall. Outside, Meadow parks successfully and runs to greet her family. Tony is starting at the door again. Two black teenagers stand by the door, and Tony’s focus is on them as the door opens. We remember the black kids who tried to take out Tony in Season One.

A bell rings. Tony looks up.

BLACK.

What long time fan can watch the scene unfold and not look at each character and wonder if they are seeing them for the last time? And as much as each of them in their own way is weak, even disgusting, as each family member joins the table they carry with them years of collective memory: Here is Tony, crying in Melfi’s office over the family of ducks (‘Dat’s it. Dat’s the fuckin’ connection.’). Here is Carmela, screaming in blind fury at her husband, telling him he’s going to hell when he dies, tacitly accepting the evil that keeps her lifestyle lavish. Here’s fat little AJ at Jackie Aprile’s funeral, first realizing what kind of a man his father is. Here’s Meadow, through crystal meth and murdered boyfriends, somehow becoming a decent human being.

In those final seemingly random, empty moments, we are taken at long last into the head of Tony Soprano. We feel the fear that drives him, a fear that will always be a part of him. The black that lasts forever, the numbness that is always under the surface. The weight of the anxiety that has always been on Tony’s shoulders Chase has given to the viewer.

Tony Soprano, driven by his most primal instincts, is the most vividly written and acted character in the history of television. In his final moments on our screens, we are witness not to his death, or the death of the innocents that surround him, but instead are encompassed by the fear that will always be inside of him.

The ending is pitch perfect.

The Sopranos, Episode 6:21 “Made in America”: A

Matthew Guerrero