Eco film festivals paints District venues green
The Environmental Film Festival in the Nation’s Capital provides the perfect medium of thought-provoking, inspiring and motivating films.
The Environmental Film Festival in the Nation’s Capital provides the perfect medium of thought-provoking, inspiring and motivating films.
Corey Haim’s recent passing is the latest in a long tradition of talented actors dying long before their time, often to unusual circumstances.
It has been way, way too long since Hollywood released an amazing chick flick worthy of our time. Producers have been rolling out tons of female-targeted films over the past few years, but few of these movies have captured our hearts and landed spots on our DVD shelves. Never fear, ladies. You can stop settling for subpar acting and horrible endings. All of your needs for classic love stories and good looking men will at last be fulfilled. “Remember Me,” starring Robert Pattinson and Emilie de Ravin, is the cure-all for a streak of mediocre chick flicks.
Still craving the badass cop heroes that made movies like “The Departed,” “American Gangster” and “Pride and Glory” box office hits? Prepare to get your morally-questionable, crime-fighting fix with Antoine Fuqua’s newest feature, “Brooklyn’s Finest.” Both Richard Gere and Ethan Hawke play police struggling with inner conflicts.
The weekend of Feb. 25 brought great success to AU’s theater department as they introduced four sold-out performances of Federico Garcia Lorca’s “The House of Bernarda Alba.”
Jay Leno returned to his 11:35 timeslot and hosting duties of The Tonight Show on Monday night. It was like he never left. The show started with a parody of The Wizard of Oz, acting as though Leno’s time off was just a horrible dream. Kevin Eubanks was there; Ross the Intern was there; Jon Menendez decided to return, and for some reason Betty White showed up to because she was clearly available.
I know that I’ve written about the Academy Awards over several of my columns, but I can’t stop. I can’t help it. The Oscars are the Super Bowl for movie geeks. Instead of the playoffs we have the Golden Globes and various Guild awards. After following the race, I’m happy that the awards season is coming to an end, but questions still remain before the big night — namely who will take the top prize.
The new LP by Clarence Greenwood, better known as Citizen Cope, is a self-produced effort to get in touch with his music on a more personal level. Released by his own label, RainWater Recordings, the album is commendable for being thoughtful, pithy and almost intentionally wishy-washy. But while it does score some brownie points for having heart and for showing off Greenwood’s versatility, it isn’t enough to redeem its overall dullness and poorly contrived intonations throughout.
In my last column, I looked at the shortfalls of Michelle Obama’s new “Let’s Move” campaign to end childhood obesity and the problems it poses regarding body image issues. This week I’m going to use the campaign as a springboard into what I feel is an even more dire issue: what lies at the heart of the obesity problem — our broken food system.
Chocolate. Lots of chocolate. A weekend of chocolate. Got your attention? I thought so. Whether you consider yourself a chocolate fanatic or just one out of the millions slightly obsessed with the sweet, do not miss out on The Chocolate Lovers Festival.
As most urbanites know, a city is more than just a location on a map or a collection of skyscrapers and street vendors. Every metropolis is a living, breathing, organism in its own right, comprised of its own unique culture.
A Manhattan native says a Texas music festival could give New York a run for its money. Too bad it starts at the end of AU’s spring break.
Audiences know exactly what is going to happen before they set foot in the theater and “The Crazies” plans for it. The film wastes no time setting the scene and commencing the mayhem. But it is a slow-moving mayhem that knows when to jump, when to edge in dreadful anticipation and even when to settle into a quiet moment that manages to build suspense for what isn’t going horribly wrong.
In his memoir “The Big Rewind,” film and television critic Nathan Rabin said that during his stay in a mental institution, he amused himself with a peculiar pastime: “Some folks collect stamps ... I collect bitter ironies,” Rabin wrote. “So I had to savor the moment when the [nurse] staring daggers at me bitterly groused to a coworker, ‘I just don’t see why everyone thinks “The Simpsons” is so great. What’s so funny about a father who strangles his son?’ ... here she was conveying bottomless concern for an imaginary cartoon boy while betraying nothing but contempt for the squirming bundle of humanity sobbing softly six feet away.”
When one hears that Kevin Smith, the director of “Clerks,” “Mallrats” and “Dogma,” is coming out with another movie, it’s hard not to brim with excitement. Until you remember that this is also the man who directed “Clerks II” and “Jersey Girl.” That’s when it’s hard not to get nervous.
The stage goes black. Royal blue light shines from the ceiling down onto three chairs placed at center stage. One by one, the seats are filled and a Spanish guitar begins to play. A singer joins the acoustics, singing with deep, powerful emotions that fill the theater and the ears of the audience. Then, the light shining on the third chair becomes brighter as a dancer springs to life and joins the other two performers to complete the trio. With his grand movements and facial expressions, it is a mesmerizing and accurate demonstration of Spanish flamenco.
Last Tuesday, Sup Pop-signed band Vetiver co-headlined Black Cat with the reverb-obsessed Londoners, The Clientele. Both bands have an affinity for mellow songs and lyrics that err on the side of poetic. This generally isn’t a foolproof recipe for a rocking live show, but both bands were able to pull it off with a gentle, shoegazing grace.
Washington, D.C., is often criticized for its lackluster music scene. Several writers and artists have said it possesses the same rigid lack of originality that the city’s politics exhibit. Maybe it’s only a small step in shedding this reputation, but Annie Clark of St. Vincent redeemed the Capital’s music listeners last Wednesday, when she played an awing show at 9:30 club and repeatedly praised D.C. and its residents for providing her with some of her fullest and most enthusiastic shows in her past. Her audience seemed aware of the significance of this praise and responded by delivering her another ardent reception.
On this week’s episode of “LOST,” “The Lighthouse,” we met a mini-Shepherd, Jack’s son, David. David stays with Jack while David’s mother is out of town, but the two have trouble communicating. We see commonalities in the relationships between Jack and his father and Jack and his son. Luckily, Jack is neither a lush nor a prick, and he overcomes the communication barrier when he shows up to his son’s piano audition only to meet Mr. “Too-Cool for English” Dogan and his tiny, prodigy son.
Far from his characters in “Moulin Rouge” or, more recently, “The Men Who Stare at Goats” Ewan McGregor plays a nameless spirit in Roman Polanski’s “The Ghost Rider.” The film won over Scene staff, but will critics and viewers see beyond Polanski’s controversial past and recognize his greatness?