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First things first: Happy New
Year! I know you’ve been popping over to BFA wondering
where the hell I've been. Yes, I know I didn’t review
“Meet the Fockers."I didn't review “Life Aquatic,”
or “Spanglish.” But really, do you need a review
of Adam Sandler's latest attempt to stretch his dramatic acting
wings? I didn’t think so. As for “Meet the Fockers?”
Let me help you out. It's a sequel to a very successful movie.
It's an easy formula: wacky + big stars + gigantic marketing
= box office gold.
Here’s another formula: horror + cliché + pile
of poop =“White Noise.”
To kick off the New Year, I decided to review what may possibly
be the worst movie of 2005. I know it’s still early,
but seriously, some retarded kid and/or NYU film student is
gonna have to work awfully hard with his parent’s video
camera to top this turd.
I always like to lead with the positive even with a negative
review, so let me say few good things about the movie. Okay,
one good thing: Michael Keaton’s wardrobe was
fantastic. Really a sharp dresser. I hope the costumer is
nominated for something. Unfortunately, I’m not a flaming
homosexual, so there were obvious limits to my appreciation.
“White Noise” delves into the scary concept of Electronic
Voice Phenomenon (EVP for the hipsters). Whenever you get
some static on your radio and it sounds like someone is talking
to you, it’s EVP, not a faint signal from a radio station.
Who knew? I’ve experienced EVP twice in my life. The
first time, I didn’t pay my cable bill, so I ate mushrooms
and watched the television static for eight hours. Jerry Garcia
says hello. The second time, I was driving down an old road.
Suddenly, the radio went all crazy and I heard a voice through
the static. Turns out it was some kid playing with a Mr. Microphone--
or a dead person. Who knows?
The plot of "White Noise" was as excruciating as
an L Ron Hubbard-induced fantasy and just as cliché.
John Rivers (Michael Keaton) is a successful architect who
has everything. He lives in an ultra cool home inspired by
the early work of Mike Brady. His wife, Anna Rivers (Chandra
West) is a best-selling and critically acclaimed novelist.
When we join them, we find out she’s pregnant. Of course,
Mr. Mom acts really excited, in a castrated male kind of way.
Next thing you know—bingo, bango, bongo—Anna falls
into the river and dies. Did you notice the clever wordplay
on her last name? Genius!
Anyway, John, now wracked with emotional pain, is approached
by a stranger who introduces John to EVP. He tells John that
he’s heard Anna from “The Great Beyond.” Being
a douchebag, John doesn’t suspect a scam. Being a crappy
movie, there is no scam. Needless to say, John gets into EVP
to try to contact Anna, but along the way, mean spirits tell
him to fuck off. The spirits are always angry and mean, which
is why I can't wait to fuck with people once I'm dead.
"White Noise" is supposed to be a scary movie,
in that intellectual, non-blood and guts kind of way. I respect
movies that accomplish this. It seems like it has something
to do with the script as well as direction, acting and all
the rest of those little details. The film has even managed
to do really well at the box office, which is further evidence
that my reviews are totally ignored by everyone. Then again,
I review movies a week after they come out.
If you really, really love Michael Keaton (slight chuckle)
and must watch one of his movies, there's always "Mr.
Mom," "Nightshift" or even "Pacific Heights."
After that period of his career, the Batman tights apparently
constricted the bloodflow to whichever part of Mr. Keaton's
brain that involves picking movie roles.
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Above:
Michael Keaton looking all scared in "White Noise"
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