EW's 100 movie classics of the past 25 years

All morning long, my nose has been buried in Entertainment Weekly's new issue, the magazine's 1,000th in a consistently fine history. Pretty impressive streak, there.

The issue is chiefly dedicated to listing the "new classics" of the past 25 years in music, television, books and, of course, movies.

*** 8 p.m. update ***

I'm still looking for The Big Lebowski, and the numbskull(s) who left it of the list. How can a movie that created a legitimate cult following be neglected while Crumb is Mo. 14 and Rushmore (RUSHMORE!!) is 22, right behind Schindler's List?

On second thought, ignore this list.

Can't argue with Pulp Fiction at No. 1 ("opened a new universe of mainstream storytelling... recast the future of movies by living so thrillingly, in the moment"). But it doesn't take long to reach one that will ruffle some fathers: Titanic at No. 3.

But debate is what such lists are all about. Scan through the photo gallery of Nos. 1 through 100 (South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut) and let's discuss what EW got right, or horribly wrong.

[AP photo]

Local producer swings The Hammer

Had an interesting conversation with Gregory Firestone, a Tampa clinical psychologist credited as an executive producer for The Hammer, starring Adam Carolla as a boxer taking one last chance at ring glory and love.

Firestone did it for family pride -- his second cousins are the film's director and co-producer -- and also because his minor investment in 2001's Kissing Jessica Stein was successful and fun. being an executive producer means he helped secure financing for the $1-million project, primarily from his Harbor Island tennis pals.

Because of the local connections, two screenings of The Hammer are scheduled Friday at 8 and 10 p.m. at Muvico Centro Ybor 20. Tickets are $10, with proceeds benefiting the Tampa Bay chapter of the American Red Cross. Co-star Jeff Lacy, a former IBF champ from St. Petersburg, will host the events.

"It’s exciting that you have a chance to see earlier versions before it first appears in a theater," he said. "It’s interesting to see it take shape in terms of what gets cut out, or what expands; what gets re-shot and what gets added into it.

"What’s most impressive is when you see people working on an indie film, you don’t have the luxury to shoot the same scene over and over. You try to shoot once, twice max, to keep expenses to a minimum. Then to see the quality product that comes out at the end is really quite impressive."

However, even though it's a fine, funny movie, The Hammer only had a few dozen theater engagements along the West Coast where Carolla's radio show is popular. A DVD release is set for June 24.

Firestone couldn't venture a guess about why The Hammer never really answered the bell. "I don’t know if I understand enough of that business to offer and explanation," he said. "There are a lot of films that are made, and people in the position to distribute movies are in the position to pick what they want.

"But it is a challenge. Film distribution can be more expensive than making the film. You need to find somebody with deep pockets. If we had found somebody like that, obviously we would’ve had a bigger release than we did. You have to put a lot of money into promoting a movie, to get any attention."

Scarface memories and Sarasota redux

Big day. Gotta get some things cleaned up for work, get packed and get down to Sarasota for the closing weekend of the Sarasota Film Festival. Check back this weekend because I'll be (fingers crossed) blogging and posting photos from various events, and shots of some of the visiting celebs.

One of the last things on today's to-do list is polishing off a story running Monday that was born out of serendipity. Twenty-five years ago, a Miami amateur photographer named Bill Cooke was in the Ocean Drive neighborhood when gunfire erupted and two bloodied men faced off. One walked away alive.

Cooke kept on snapping photos.

Don't worry. It wasn't real, but a scene being filmed for the 1983 cult classic Scarface. That was Al Pacino as future drug kingpin Tony Montana still standing, after his buddy got chainsawed inside a hotel room.

Cooke kept those photos stashed away all this time. When he found them, the Times bought these previously unpublished artifacts from what many feel is the quintessential Florida movie.

Thing is, most of Scarface was filmed in California, after the production was chased from Miami by Cuban-American complaints -- and reported threats -- aimed at the movie.

I spoke with Scarface producer Martin Bregman, who said he has never talked about what happened behind the scenes in this matter. Monday, we'll run several of Cooke's photos in Floridian, along with Bregman's recollections. Here's a taste:

“The problem started when I had some Cuban expatriates, I guess, that called me and wanted to meet with me (in 1982),” Bregman said by telephone from his Manhattan offices.

“They were from Union City, N.J., right across the river," he said. "They told be that it would be very unsafe for me, my family and everybody involved in this enterprise to make this film. They said they were aware – and they used the word ‘aware’ – that (Fidel) Castro was financing this film to embarrass the good Cuban community.”

Bregman called that claim “pure, absolute stupidity.”

Those Union City emissaries also expressed displeasure with associating Cuban-Americans with drug trafficking, according to Bregman.

“They said over and over: ‘There’s no Cuban drug people. No Cubans are involved with that,’” Bregman said.   “Now, I had just gotten back from Miami with Oliver Stone and we spoke with nothing but Cubans and they were all in the drug business. Not all Cubans but the people we talked to, the big guys in the drug trade.”

It gets better. See for yourself Monday.

The dude abides and poses

Our talented marketing commandos at the Times are putting together a new, semi-funky ad campaign with our columnists. We're supposed to be captured on film in our element, reflecting our personality; what we bring to our respective beats.

I can't wait to see the nude sauna photos of Daly and Spears, giving each other 80('s) lashes with seaweed whips soaked in eucalyptus brine.

Spent yesterday morning posing for mine, so I thought I'd offer a sneak preview before Daly and Spears read that I spoiled their photo surprise and begin spreading unwarranted rumors about what my pose will be.

We shot several poses but this is my fave. Notice the drive-in speaker hung on the bench; my Dad and I stole it from the last night of the old Midway D-I he used to run in Tarpon Springs, behind which I was conceived. Big, heartfelt thanks to Mike France's Beach Theatre and his manager Chris -- another Achiever -- who correctly spelled everything and pours a mean faux White Russian.

Remember this was shot with my camera, not the borrowed-from-Q gadgets that Times pros use and will presumably be much better.

I'm holding out hope for a billboard:

The last night of Dalihoo

Shameless plug alert: Tuesday night at Studio@620 in St. Petersburg I'll have the honor of contributing to the Salvador Dali Museum's lecture series in conjunction with the current Dali & Film exhibition.

Honest, that plug sounds more uptight and academic than I plan to make the presentation. My idea of a night at the museum is either a bad Ben Stiller flick or a ticket to Madame Toussaud's.

The topic is Dalihoo: The Twisted Art of Selling Movies, from Kroger Babb to Cloverfield. We'll be breezing through the golden era of ballyhoo, when theaters sold sizzle when the steak wasn't there. Babb was a pioneer of schlock marketing with his "scared straight" films of the 1940's and 50's that were public services on the surface and prurient peek-a-boo thrills at heart.

Changing times mean we're not as curious about sex, drugs and general immorality anymore but the same selling principles to a gullible public remain, hopped-up on Internet power.

Dali's concept of critical paranoia -- the benefits of allowing yourself to be deluded  -- figure prominently in this psychology.

We'll see some of the tricks employed by Babb, prankster-producer William Castle and others. We'll also look at the role of exhibitors like my father in corralling interest. It should be a lot of fun and, what the heck, it's free. If you're not completely satisfied I'll give your money back.

Studio@620 is located at 620 1st Ave. S. Showtime is 7:30 p.m. Hope to see you there.

Blood on the screen

I hadn't told many people that Blood Feast director Herschell Gordon Lewis planned to slit my throat last night. Just enough for a conviction if the stunt went wrong.

The gash-gag was the two Andys' idea -- Andy Lalino and Andrew Allan of Film Ranch Intl., a local horror flick production company. They figured having the Godfather of Gore killing me would be a great finish to last night's Blood Feast screening and Q&A with Herschell and producer David Friedman at the Gasparilla Film Festival. My editors have thought the same about any number of events.

Anyway, the Andys rigged me up with a fake blood tube with a plastic syringe I'd push slowly, releasing a stream of red, red krovy (Clockwork Orange fans know what I mean) at my throat. Kind of like Sweeney Todd without the singing. Herschell would be "goaded" by a bogus question about critical dismissal of his movies then give me a too-close shave.

The evening was wonderful, with around 175 horror fans gathering at a pre-show reception -- excellent job of turning a stairway landing into a great party site, GFF gurus -- and laughing at all the right places during the movie. Herschell and David were delightful during the Q&A. Everyone seemed to be having a ball.

When time came to give Herschell his cue question, I fumbled with readying the blood rig, trying not to be noticed by the audience. Herschell made a slashing motion with a plastic Egyptian knife and I started pumping the plunger, screaming bloody murder. The audience cheered but I barely noticed since the plunger was jammed.

I pushed harder and it came free. Too free. The fake blood missed my throat and splashed onto Herschell standing behind me.  He reflexively ducked backward. The spray continued onto the screen, creating a perfect kill-splash pattern for CSI training. I heard the crowd that time, a blend of grossed-out groan and admiring moan that must be why folks like the Andys make their movies.

The screen cleaned up faster than Herschell.

I immediately recalled Herschell telling me last week about wanting to deck a fan in Baltimore who splashed fake blood on him as a surprise. He was incredibly gracious, accepting my gushing apologies and the two Andys giving him a damp paper towel bath (see photo).

Hoping to get more photos -- perhaps some video -- of the whole messy affair posted later.

Juno has the Spirit

This is one doodle that can't be un-did: Juno won the Film Independent Spirit Award for best film of 2007 at Saturday's ceremony on Santa Monica beach.

Read the results, courtesy of Hollywood Reporter, by clicking here.

See you Sunday night.

Lindsay Lohan gets Razzed to a record

Lindsay Lohan's I Know Who Killed Me set a new Golden Raspberry Awards record Saturday, "winning" eight Razzies that are presented -- but usually not accepted -- by creators of the worst films of the year. John Wilson and his crew have done this for 28 years and I'm glad to be on the ballot mailing ist.

Lohan was named worst actress in a tie with herself, playing a dual personality stripper/student searching for who may or may not have killed her, in a movie whose title claims she does know. Lohan also won the Razzie for worst screen couple. I Know Who Killed Me was dishonored as 2007's worst remake ("of Hostel, Saw and The Patty Duke Show.")

Norbit was voted three Razzies, all for Eddie Murphy as worst actor, supporting actor and actress in another of his latex-driven roles.

Spirit Awards semi-live blog now!

If anyone's out there and interested: I'll post here with some comments along the way.

Sorry I'm late. After a Cracker Barrel breakfast (what's up with the hash browns?) and a Dillard's gift card (thanks Mom)  shopping spree to get something to wear in  comfort Oscar night, I took Mojo to get his shots and ran into Anne Murray ("Spread your tiny wings and fly away") who did a show at Ruth Eckerd and was unwinding. She likes her shots as much as Mojo.

No, just kidding. I'm just late.

Let's see what's happening on 10-minute TiVo.

Spirit and Razzie Awards are today!

It's too bad that the Oscars hog everyone's attention this time of year. Traditionally, the days before the academy's shindig, two other -- and more fun -- awards shows happen in SoCal.

The Film Independent Spirit Awards honor the best in often-overlooked (by audiences, at least) cinema. This year's best feature nominees include Juno, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and I'm Not There -- three of my top-10 picks for 2007. You can find a complete listing of nominees on the festival's Web site.

It's a loosey-goosey affair held in a circus tent on Santa Monica beach, with a media area featuring an open bar (always nice for journailsts) and pool tables (even better). This year's host is Rainn Wilson, a severely twisted guy, I understand. he can't be any bawdier than John Waters and Sarah Silverman, who brought the house down before. You should really check out the live, uncensored broadcast starting at 5 p.m. today on IFC channel. The edited version later isn't bad but this thing gets wild, and also very smart about what movies should be about.

The Golden Raspberry Awards aren't televised, and that's a shame. The Razzies are a shoestring budget  "tribute" to the worst movies of the year. Cleverly written with some hilarious categories and nominees, the Razzies are a great party. This year's leading nominee is Lindsay Lohan's I Know Who Killed Me, trailed closely by Norbit and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. These Razzies folks take no prisoners.

I've been there twice, seeing Paul Verhoeven bravely attend to pick up a bundle of Razzies for Showgirls at one of them. Actually, I did the Spirit-Razzies double feature twice, with plenty of fond memories (except for crosstown traffic). Check back during the telecast and let me know what you think during today's event.

And don't forget to come back Sunday night when Princess Di and Sean Daly help me blog live during the Oscars.

Misconceptions reception

Just got back from the wrap party for Misconceptions, the indie flick filmed in Pinellas County for the past 6 weeks by Ron Satlof, an Eckerd College professor now since his days directing for TV.

Nice get-together at the Don CeSar, in a fifth floor reception room with a patio overlooking tourists who can't believe they're sunbathing in February, and a bartender who's a Patriots fan and didn't fully grasp the magnificence of my Super Bowl squares game success. (Sony Pictures Classics co-president Tom Bernard isn't my only wagering victim this year.)

But I went to see a few minutes of early footage of Misconceptions, which was good enough to make me think this is a little film that can.

Misconceptions, if you haven't paid attention, is a dramedy about a gay couple (Orlando Jones is one half, with a solid role on the page and in the clips) striking an agreement with a deeply religious woman (A.J. Cook) to carry their child because she thinks God wants her to, despite their "Sodomite" ways. There are other characters involved, making this a gentle satire of gay rights and Christian opposition but not at anyone's expense unless you wish to be militant.

Anyway, the movie looks like it has potential, maybe on the gay festival circuit if it's underestimated and at the very least regional, straight festivals if it isn't. Everyone with the proper apparatus can relate to the fertility clinic clip, at least.

Misconceptions was filmed on a $500,000 budget (according to Satlof) with a lot of Eckerd volunteers and as many people working for less money than they deserve. Most of them were at the Don, and standing off to the side watching them share their accomplishment was pretty cool.

Satlof made sure to tell everyone the clips shown didn't have his final cut seal of approval. I sneaked a few looks at his face and could sense he was mostly pleased but has a few editing room ideas. Funny, but I met him 5 weeks ago and learned he is a vigorous person for age 69. He looked younger Wednesday, showing off his (and co-writer Ira Pearlstein's) baby.

He'll be heading into post-production now, hoping to have Misconceptions ready to show to distributors at fall/winter festivals. Wish him luck.

Gotham Awards go "Wild," pass on "Cass"

The first major awards of 2007 were presented last night in New York City, with Sean Penn's Into the Wild chosen as best feature film at the Gotham Awards. Also good to see talented actor Ellen Page (Hard Candy) win a breakthrough performance award for the spunky comedy Juno, which I'll tell you about soon.

Read the Hollywood Reporter's account of the Gotham Awards evening here.

One thing HR didn't cover was the category of Best Film Not Playing at a Theater Near You, spotlighting little movies that could, if some distributor ever gives them a chance.

One of the nominees was Loren Cass, the  St. Petersburg-set drama written, directed and edited by Chris Fuller. Alas, Loren Cass was gassed by Ronald Bronstein's Frownland.

Check out IndieWire's better-than-HR coverage of the Gothams.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

The path to my front door has been beaten down by UPS and Fed Ex deliverymen, as studios scrambling for attention ship screener DVDs to awards voters and critics. I have a feeling my TiVo will get lonely in the next couple weeks.

Before you ask: They're not for sale, rental or borrowing. The dvds are watermarked with a coding that can be traced to me, if my copy somehow showed up on the Internet or a flea market table. The MPAA seriously hunts down such things, regularly imposing jail time or hefty fines that might as well be a death sentence.

I'm not sure if I'll get through copies of previously reviewed movies such as Things We Lost in the Fire, Lust Caution, Knocked Up, Rescue Dawn, Michael Clayton, Away from Her, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, 3:10 to Yuma, The Brave One, Ratatouille and Talk to Me. We did watch Eastern Promises last night so Princess Di could see Viggo Mortensen's jumblies.

On the other hand, I did my best Macaulay Culkin impression when not one but two copies of Into the Wild arrived.

Other screener DVDs are blogsends, though. Rather than dealing with erratic scheduling of theater screenings and audience distractions, I can now relax at home with The Kite Runner, Margot at the Wedding, Dan in Real Life, The Savages and Reservation Road (so far). Not to mention The Bucket List and Juno that I've already enjoyed.

And with vacation coming up in a couple weeks, I can get reviews and maybe my top-10 list completed in advance, unlike previous vacations that really weren't.

The hits (and misses) will keep on comin' through December. I'll keep you posted.

They found comedy in the Muslim world

Got a story running Friday's Floridian about the Comics on Duty program created by Houston resident Rich Davis. He arranges tours of Iraq and Afghanistan war zones for stand-up comedians to entertain U.S. troops.

Two familiar Coconuts Comedy Club favorites are frequent COD entertainers: Danny Bevins and John Bizarre. Along with two other comics and local producer Tom Gribbin, they shot an hour-long documentary of their most recent trip titled We Love You, Mrs. Bevins.

You can view the trailer here.

The movie is only available on line but will be shown Nov. 14 at 9:30 p.m. at Beach Theater. Admission is $5 for a polished amateur movie about a good cause for troops deserving a little comic relief.

Davis told me he doesn't have any trouble finding comedians willing to give up a few weeks' gigs to  make 'em laugh.

"I literally turn away dozens of comics each month because I don’t have slots for them," Davis said. "I don’t have an unending budget. My programs are run by individual commands requesting us. There are a lot of comics who want to step up but a lot of them aren’t ready for that, for the situations they’ll be put in. That’s not to say they won’t be able to someday but with so few slots I have to pick and choose."

Davis said his charge to Army and Navy entertainment agencies isn't much. Comics on Duty is a nearly non-profit organization.

"This is not a $700 hammer," he cracked.

Bevins recalled one show at a helicopter base, before a group that didn't want to leave.

"We did the show and they wanted to keep talking to us," Bevins said. "We ended up in a dining facility with one light on, a table of people talking and laughing and eating ice cream. I’ll never forget that. Everybody was laughing, having a good time. If we were back home we’d probably be drinking beer but there’s no beer over there."

Check out the rest of the story Friday.

Summer b.o. wrap-up/slap-up

Hollywood Reporter has a wrap-up of the summer movie boxoffice that proves three things:

1. Audiences will buy anything if they've bought it before (see all the sequels and brand name bait and switching).

2. If a movie doesn't make back its investment, or close, in the first weekend, it is a flop. (Look up the reported budgets vs. B.O. results).

3. Good ideas only make money if they're realized first, even if the latter version is superior (see Surf's Up compared to the other penguin/animated flicks).

Discuss among yourselves.

The food bloggers have their movie picks and I have mine

Check out Laura Reiley's current blog posting with her picks for the best food-related movies of all time. The Snack Pack bunch in TBT chimed in with their choices.

Me, I like to be different, and gross.

Here are my fast choices for the best vomit-related movie scenes of all time:

The Exorcist -- The greatest movie puke of all time, limited in its color and consistency by the pea soup effects but certainly memorable.
Monty Python's The Meaning of Life -- If Linda Blair is the queen of movie barf, Mr. Creosote (Terry Jones) is the king. "Get me a bucket!"
Team America: World Police -- Marionette sex got even kinkier on the unrated DVD version. Messier, too.
Stand By Me - Wil Wheaton's campfire story about a blueberry (I think) pie eating contest gone grossly wrong.
The Witches of Eastwick -- Veronica Cartwright projectile barfing cherries on the devil's -- i.e. Jack Nicholson's -- command.
The Invasion - The most recent regurgitation flick (and Invasion of the Body Snatchers remake), with an extraterrestrial virus spread by puking into victims' faces.

So, what are your (urp) best Technicolor yawn choices?

They tried to make me go on vacation and I said no, no, no

Today is the first day of the rest of my life for the next two weeks. Leaving Thursday for the Telluride Film Festival -- a sure sign that this vacation thing isn't going to work -- and I'm working on my checklist of pre-flight duties:

1 - Replace that ATM bank card I lost somewhere Friday and didn't notice until banks were closed Saturday. Need that for the trip, I guess. Not the first pre-Telluride plastic mishap; in 2005 I lost my driver's license two days before flying. Good thing I noticed before going through security.

2 - Get my trusty Black Lab-Shih Tzu mix Mojo another leash for doggie camp where he'll stay while we're gone. If I told you what happened to his previous leash I'd hear Michael Vick taunting me. Mojo's fine. And he isn't part Shih Tzu, I just like saying that breed.

3 - Suspend my daily Times delivery and hope for the best.

4 - Suspend my daily mail delivery and expect the worst.

5 - Pack for those low 70s highs (oooh!) and high 40s lows (ahhh!) predicted for Telluride next weekend. Maybe we'll be above the scattered rain clouds.

6 - Double check to be certain my Little Lebowski Urban Achiever shirt is packed for our traditional photo on Telluride's rustic Main Street, framed by the San Miguel mountains, to post on Lebowskifest's Web site (www.lebowskifest.com)

 

7 - See Superbad since I don't think it'll be showcased at the festival.

8 - Jot down the cell phone number of Scott Foundas, a former member of the Times Xpress writing team who I always thought was too big for his britches until he grew down to them. Scott now lives in L.A., writing about film matters for several publications including Variety. He also does some of the live onstage interviews with Telluride's guest artists.His e-mail tipped me off that Indian director Shyam Benegal is one of this year's tributees and he sounds high on the guy's work. By comparison, that Billy Norris is such a slacker (just kidding, pal).

 

9 - Wait by the mailbox and hope my Convick t-shirt ordered Sunday arrives in time for the trip.

10 - Get used to this relaxing stuff.