Today's Must-Reads

I'm halfway through my first full week off in more than eight years, so what am I doing? Cruising the Web between loads of laundry. What a life, huh?

Eh, it's not as if I could have taken off to some tropical locale, or even Santa Fe. Besides the fact that I have a gaping black hole where my bank account should be, it's May sweeps time: Who the hell would leave a TV behind at a time like this?

Which brings me to today's first killer read: New Jersey Star-Ledger TV critic Alan Sepinwall's spot-on analysis of last night's 2nd season finale of "Veronica Mars," which is simply the best show on TV, bar none. Last night's episode solved several sprawling, season-long mysteries, resolved some nagging plot points and packed more emotional punch than most feature films -- all in a 60-minute episode.

Stay on Alan's site for his trenchant commentary on last night's "Gilmore Girls" season finale, in which the probable ruination of a once-great show is probably complete.

On a wholly different note, there's Tom Krattenmaker's insightful Salon article (well worth watching the ad) on the growing role of evangelical Christianity in pro sports. Here's a sample:

In the end, it's unfortunate that Christian evangelism, at least the superficial form practiced by many players and chaplains, has become so rampant in sports, says a former pro athlete now involved in a Christian sports ministry. "Players who believe God helps them win miss the point of the rich tradition of the Christian faith," says the ex-player, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, fearing reprisal from his ministry. "I think the problem with sports ministry is the problem with the American church in general. We look for celebrities to promote a brand name. In my understanding of the gospels, this is the antithesis of the method Jesus used while on earth."

Stay at Salon for Stephanie Zacharek's worshipful recap of "Veronica Mars" (yeah, that again).

Then, take a look at this feature on Steve Carell, who wrote tomorrow night's "Office" season finale. That's one of, like, four sitcoms I even watch, though I wonder how I'll feel about finding laughs in a toxic workplace next season.

This Weekend's Movies

Oops, I forgot to include "Ask the Dust" in last week's roundup. Not that anyone read it, anyway.

Here's what's on tap at the theaters this week. I might actually see one of them.

• "An American Haunting": I do love seeing Sissy Spacek on the big screen, but not for this. One thing I won't miss a bit is having to see faux-scary PG-13 flicks.

• "Hoot": The trailer makes this family-friendly film look fairly appealing, and it took me until this week to realize the lead actor was the younger brother on the WB's "Jack and Bobby." This might have been one that snuck up on me, but it's not one I'm going to pay to see. Maybe -- maybe -- on DVD. But it loses points for having a Jimmy Buffett soundtrack. Yuck.

• "Mission: Impossible III": I'm actually surprised how much I really want to see this movie. The trailer bugs the shit out of me, mostly because I'm sick to death of Crazy Tom Cruise and his patented Steely Gaze of Pissed-Off-itude. But I can look past that because I'm dying to see how J.J. Abrams ("Alias," "Lost") reinvents the franchise, and I love that Keri Russell is getting her big-screen break. I'll probably go during the afternoon next week.
  
  

Hump Day Rules

Wednesday has absolutely become my favorite night of TV. Even over Sunday, even as much as I love "Grey's Anatomy" and "The Sopranos" and "Big Love." And last night's lineup rocked big time.

I kicked it off by watching "America's Next Top Model" live, seeing my favorite, Snaggle-Tooth Joanie, rocking the challenge and the photo shoot. Yay for ex-stripper/preacher's kids! And I fluved Jade's dumb-ass comment of the night: "Shooting with the elephant, it reminds me of an ancient dinosaur, because they are in the dinosaur family."

That was followed by watching "Lost" live, which was about 58 minutes of a really good episode that ended with two minutes of mind-blowing action. Two more potential deaths? Hello, May sweeps!

Then, I flipped over to Bravo to watch "Top Chef," which has quickly become one of my favorite shows of the season. The whole time I was watching it, I just knew that flighty, frenetic Dave would be the one leaving, especially when he chose to cook a black-truffle and cognac mac & cheese. It was quite shocking, then, when the top chefs of Napa liked his dish the best and sent him to the final three with my favorite, Harold. That left Lee Anne and Tiffani, both of whom I've liked from the start. Apparently, Lee Anne had too many flavors going on in her dish, all of which overwhelmed both the truffle and a 2001 Shafer Hillside Select Cabernet, which apparently is some sort of mega-rare and delicious wine. So she got the boot, though she'd displayed impeccable skill throughout. Judge Tom Colicchio sure is pissed about it, too.

Then, I rewound the tape in my living room VCR to watch "The Amazing Race." This used to be my absolute favoritist show evah, but not so much anymore. Last night's was a good episode, but two teams engaged in some really crappy behavior by calling and cancelling two other teams' cabs. Besides, I only like one team that's left in the Top 4. In the old days, it used to be that I would like 3 of the top 4 teams.

After that was "American Idol," in which little Princess Paris got the boot. I liked her, but it was her time to go, especially given that Twitchy Taylor has an inexplicably large fan base and seems destined for the final two. I hate him, by the way. I hate his faux soul mannerisms, his drunken dancing, his better-than-this attitude and his stupid gray hair. I'm resigned to my favorite, Kat McPhee, leaving third, after Elliott but before Chris and Twitchy Taylor.

Then, finally, I could watch "Alias," which felt like an old-school episode, especially with Syd's wonderful Southern accent being used in full force. Then, just as with "Lost," two shocking deaths, one of which finally might have answered the question of whether Sloan is a good guy or a bad guy after all.

After all the adrenaline-amping shows, I wasn't anywhere near tired, so I popped in a screener of "Kathy Griffin: Strong Black Woman," which airs on Bravo next week. (I'll miss screeners almost as much as I miss free CDs.) Her takes on Tom Cruise, K-Fed and, especially, Star Jones shouldn't be missed, particularly when she gets into the whole "Dakota Fanning's in rehab" bit she tried on the red carpet and subsequently got fired for.

Oooooh, Cool

This is the kind of thing that makes my inner nerd snort and hike up its highwater pants:

What's Grosser Than Gross?

Remember those old schoolyard jokes? I think we've found the ultimate topper in this story about the nasty Denise Richards/Charlie Sheen divorce:

Locklear's rumored beau of the moment, David Spade, seemed to perpetuate that speculation when he told reporters last week that Locklear was "still nursing the knife wound in her back."

How the bloody hell does someone like David Spade hook up with Heather Locklear? Is she suddenly blind, deaf, dumb and without nerve endings to feel the slime that exudes from his creepy little pores? Who's going to stop Heather's downward shame spiral of dating?

Baby, I Remember All The Things You Taught To Me

Someone* brought me flowers today. I can't remember the last time someone brought me flowers. No one brings me flowers anymore.

*Actually, WT's communications department, led by the fabulous Dana Olmstead, sent them to me. But that's not how the song goes.

Two Days More

I'm going to break out into song now. Imagine me having a really good voice, though.

Valjean

Two days more,

Two more days to another destiny,

Off this never-ending road to Calvary.

These people who have committed crimes

Will surely soon be drenched in grime.

Two days more.

Marius

I cannot wait until Friday

How can I wait 'til I am parted?

Valjean

(Two days more)

Marius & Cosette

In a week, I'll be worlds away

And yet it feels a new world has started.

Eponine

Two more days 'til I'm on my own

Marius & Cosette

Will I ever breathe again?

Eponine

Two more days with them not caring.

Marius & Cosette

I was born to do this job

Eponine

What I life I could have led

Marius & Cosette

And I swear I was always true!

Eponine

But they'll never get me back.

OK, that's enough for now.

This weekend's movies

Now that I don't get paid to see movies anymore, I have a feeling I won't be seeing nearly as many. I'll probably go from 12 to 15 a month to, like, 2. Maybe.

But that doesn't mean I won't still have opinions on them. Here's this week's bunch, with snarky comments:

• Akeelah and the Bee: I do want to see this one because (1) I'm a sucker for underdog stories, and (2) I want to see if Laurence Fishburne and Angela Bassett can make it through an entire movie without whaling on each other.
• R.V.: Robin Williams needs to go away. Now. No, really. I'm serious. Unless he does more like this.
• Stick It: It's from the writer of "Bring It On," so it may be worth a rental. Jeff Bridges is always interesting, at least.
• United 93: I definitely want to see this, though I dread it equally. The trailers alone were enough to get my throat tight. Writer/director Paul Greengrass has a superb record, and early reviews are promising. Interesting note: Amarillo native Tara Hugo, daughter of jazz clarinetist Hugo Loewenstern, plays passenger Kristin White Gould.

With 'Friends' Like These ... I'd Take The Money

And here's my "Friends with Money" review, also mysteriously absent today.

Writer/director Nicole Holofcener knows women inside out. Moreover, she knows how to write women.

Holofcener’s films “Walking and Talking” and “Lovely and Amazing” are intricate character studies of women and their relationships with friends, families and lovers. Her latest, “Friends with Money,” follows in their footsteps.

The best thing about Holofcener’s women is how realistic they are. At times, it feels as if we’re voyeurs, watching the lives of our neighbors (albeit, in this case, our extraordinarily wealthy neighbors) unfold before our eyes.

“Friends” concerns itself with four women and their romantic partners.

Frances McDormand is Jane, a 40-plus-year-old woman who’s so convinced that her best days have passed her by that she can’t even be bothered to wash her hair. Her friends speculate that she’s so angry because her husband, Aaron (Simon McBurney), is gay. He says he's not, but don't tell that to the hot guys that keep hittting on him.

Catherine Keener, a veteran of all three of Holofcener’s films, is Christine, who writes screenplays with her husband, David (Jason Isaacs), and is so self-absorbed that she can’t understand why her neighbors would be angry about her addition of a second story to her home, no matter that it does block their view.

Joan Cusack is Franny, a mondo-rich stay-at-home mom who’s the glue in the four women’s friendship. She doesn’t really have many problems of her own, nor does her husband Matt (Greg Germann). Their wealth may not be the only reason they’re so happy, but it sure doesn’t hurt.

And Jennifer Aniston is Olivia, who’s “single, a pothead and a maid,” according to one of her friends. Olivia used to teach snooty kids at a fancy school, until they started bringing her quarters because they felt sorry for her. Now, she’s content-ish to clean other people’s homes.

“Friends” doesn’t have much in the way of plot. Even Olivia’s search for the perfect boyfriend isn’t a major deal. Instead, Holofcener just wants us to observe these women, to see how many of their problems are of their own creation, to see how their materialism and self-loathing is destructive.

It’s not the comedy that some ads make it out to be, but it does have its share of humor, which comes from very real places. By the same token, it’s not as depressing as it might sound, though it does have a dark center.

Equal doses of humor and darkness? Sounds like real life to me.

Big-Time Dreamerz

Here's my review of "American Dreamz," which was unexpectedly left out of today's Get Out!

The judges on “American Idol” have a standard phrase when a contestant takes on a too-ambitious song: “That song was too big for you.”

That’s almost what happens to Paul Weitz, who wrote and directed the satire “American Dreamz.”

Weitz, who has moved from the “American Pie” movies to the highly regarded “About a Boy” and “In Good Company,” has huge ambitions for “Dreamz”: Not only does he want to satirize America’s fascination with reality TV contests, such as “Idol,” but he also tries to connect that willful disconnect from reality with a takedown of the Good Ol’ Boy presidency of George W. Bush.

To Weitz, the two situations are inescapably connected: The film argues that a society that’s willing to surrender so completely to manufactured reality on a TV show will also surrender completely to a manufactured reality from the White House.

The result is a frequently hilarious, but not totally successful, film.

Hugh Grant stars as Martin Tweed, the obnoxious British host of “Dreamz.” He’s a misanthrope who’s getting bored with the show and all of its attendant celebrity hoo-hah, so to make the show interesting for himself, he rigs it so that the finale comes down to an ambitious (and slightly trashy) blonde girl (Mandy Moore as Sally Kendoo) and a show tune-loving Iraqi (Sam Golzari as Omer).

Meanwhile, Dennis Quaid’s President Staton has woken up after a successful re-election and decides to start reading newspapers, any that he can get his hands on — so many that he locks himself out of sight from the country.

That causes some concern from his wife (Marcia Gay Harden) and lots of concern from his chief of staff (Willem Dafoe), who’s bald like Dick Cheney and Machiavellian like Karl Rove.

The worlds collide when the chief gets Staton booked as a guest judge on the “Dreamz” finale, where he becomes a target of the reluctant suicide bomber Omer.

Grant, as always, is slickly perfect in the role, showing us how, to paraphrase a memorable exchange, Tweed knows he needs to be a better person but that he has no real desire to become one. Moore also scores as the ruthless Sally, who’s willing to get back together with her ex when he’s nicked with a bullet in Iraq because she knows that story will help her win.

Golzari, Quaid, Harden and Dafoe also are solid, as are supporting players Jennifer Coolidge (Sally’s mother, an underwritten role) and Seth Meyers (Sally’s agent, also a little undercooked).

If anything, Weitz should have been more ruthless, but at its best, “Dreamz” is the finest bit of cinematic satire since “Wag the Dog.”

Welcome to my world

This is just a place-holder until I actually start posting. Which will be soon. I hope.