Real to reel

Local observations from a movie, music buff

I survived ‘Sex and the City’

Also reviewed: the latest film from Harmony Korine titled ‘Mister Lonely,’ playing at the Music Box Theatre

By Dan Ochwat

I went for my superfan wife. I went for my wonderful neighbors throughout Boystown (to reinforce a stereotype). I went because it’s a cultural phenomenon. And the verdict is: “Sex and the City,” the movie, is bad — but really not that annoying.

Fans of the TV show, take that as a glowing review. I’m not a fan of the show, find it to be a cloying, cartoonish view of New York. However, I respect it. I understand why women unite over Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte — four (formerly) single and empowered women. And, yes, some of them are loose and empowered women, but reality stings, fellas.

I am not the church, calling this show blasphemy. I am not the threatened meathead, who would rather believe in a world seen in “Entourage,” the most sexist television show ever.

Simply put, I have always found the show, the four ladies and their friends really, really, incredibly annoying.

But, it’s rude to be a killjoy. I know this movie isn’t for me. It’s for my wife, her friends, wannabe fashionistas and Boystown (to continue to reinforce that stereotype), and “Sex and the City,” the movie, gives them one last night with their favorite ladies. Sarah Jessica Parker, Kim Cattrall, Kristin Davis and Cynthia Nixon pick up where they left off on the series. They’ve been these ladies too long not to make it look so easy. They hold the movie together; they’re the reason fans will be satisfied. You’ll feel like these characters never left you. You will drink a post-party cosmo with your friends and toast them. They’re good performances.

The film itself, however, proves the ink went dry on the TV series. The jokes are corny, old and dumbed down (one character even poops herself for a gag). The film plays like a PG-13 version of the show, less raw dialogue and less straight talk. The plot line is so thin it probably could have run over the credits of the last season. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour film that never dives deeper into Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte, just moves them further along. It’s as if new episodes, albeit bad ones, were just edited into a movie.

But I feel like I’ve talked to enough die-hard, pee-your-pants-in-anticipation fans, and you all know this already. Maybe the awful trailer lowered your expectations. Maybe all of the early drama of whether a movie would even be made, or the fact that it’s a movie, in general, lowered your expectations. Deep down, I think you all know this movie isn’t good, but you’ll enjoy it anyway, and you should.

One note: I skipped Lakers vs. Spurs for this screening. I stood in line with grumpy critics and dolled up wannabe-fashionista fans (the line looked like auditions for the next “Bachelor,” only the rose being a ticket into the limited-seating screening). I beared a half hour of mindless interview footage with the cast. I beared an additional half hour of footage from the New York red carpet premiere, where I was force-fed Jennifer Hudson’s cleavage and discussions about what “SJP” is wearing. Then, I watched all two and a half hours of the movie. To be honest, by the end of it, I didn’t have energy to hate it.

“Mister Lonely”
In the latest film from debated wunderkind Harmony Korine (“Kids,” “Gummo”), we’re tested with beauty and patience. Every shot, every moving picture is gorgeous. It’s art. But how much can you awe during a largely incoherent film?

“Mister Lonely” feels like a dream, deals with outcast characters — celebrity impersonators — living on a commune in France trying to live out their own dream to perform and be accepted. Our hero is a Michael Jackson, played wonderfully by Diego Luna. He’s brought to the commune by a Marilyn Monroe (played by the even better Samantha Morton) by canoe. They live self-sustained lives in a mansion, farming and sporting alongside an Abe Lincoln, Madonna, Pope, Sammy Davis Jr., and more. An embittered Charlie Chaplin trounces our shy Michael in a game of ping pong. Abe wrestles with keeping the sheep healthy. The Pope is bathed by Buckwheat.

See how I’m torn? These are great images, carrying a movie that is stilted, sad and perplexing (especially when flying nuns enter the picture). In many ways, it’s like a David Lynch movie. And like a Lynch movie, some will argue not all dreams should be filmed, no matter how gorgeous looking.

But I ere on the side of gorgeous, and there is some truth and depth in the movie. In one scene, Michael says goodbye to his only friend, an empty bedroom, offering a farewell to his bed, table and window. And, throughout the film, we get glimpses of what’s really beneath our impersonators, particularly when tragedy strikes. In their reactions, for a moment, you no longer see Sammy Davis, but that sad man beneath.

So, I approve this mess. Though fans of Harmony Korine beware, it’s more elegant than his previous work. “Gummo” and “Julian Donkey-Boy” are grimy films of hard luck, screwed up kids (much like his screenwriting debut “Kids,” which immediately brought him fame). There is one scene of Buckwheat riding a pony professing his love for women and chickens that is pure Korine, but by in large, this is the softer side of Harmony.

Concert Calendar
If you skip the movies, here are some concert choices, leading with a free show at the Empty Bottle. Don’t ask me how it’s free: On 6/12, the Scottish rock group, Frightened Rabbit, with an excellent new album, are playing with the equally spastic and solid rock outfit Oxford Collapse. I wouldn’t miss this, even if I had to pay.

On 6/14, a sometimes moody, sometimes screaming experimental pop band, Annuals, play the Empty Bottle. Electronic Euro-duo Crystal Castles play the Double Door on 6/18, while folkie Marissa Nadler sings at the Empty Bottle on 6/20.

Playing a newer venue in the city, The Mansion, on 6/24, is a triple lineup including Shearwater, Frog Eyes and Evangelicals. On 6/28, an up-tempo folk rock band The Impossible Shapes, hailing from Bloomington, Ind., play two smaller known venues on the same day at Bottom Lounge and South Union Arts, respectively.

Bobby Digital, aka RZA, visits the House of Blues on 7/1, and playing for the first time in a while, to surely celebrate they’re upcoming album, Canadian wonders Wolf Parade hit the House of Blues on 7/8.

Keep sending me your music or anything else on your mind at danochwat@hotmail.com. I’ve also joined the MySpace army, so give The Real Chicago some love at http://www.myspace.com/danochwat

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