Grey April, Dark Hearts      Folks, I've been told by many that I owe you all a huge apology. Seems like I have a big group of fans out there that like to hear what I have to say week in and week out when it comes to movies. They want to know what I think about the latest releases, what's good about them and what's bad about them. And, here lately, I haven't been talking too much.       But, friends, there's a very good reason for my silence. My momma once told me that, if I couldn't say anything nice about someone or something, I shouldn't say anything at all. So, instead of voicing my rage, I've stayed mostly quiet. I've sat back and seethed in anger. I have simmered like a crockpot on a kitchen counter until I've completely run out of gravy, and, now, I must blow my top or burn up once and for all.       Ask me why. Go ahead. Ask me.       I am royally ticked off at Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen, because this has been, without a doubt, one of the sorriest months in the last five years when it comes to new film releases. I've spent night after night sitting in the fifth row of one of the theatres down at the dodecaplex, fighting with all my heart and soul and body, trying my dangdest not to just puke all over my Movie Shoes.       What in the Wide Wide World of Sports is going on in Hollywood? Are you people out there completely idiotic for feeding us all of this mediocre crap week after week for a month now? Or are we even bigger idiots for continuing to pay to sit and watch this dreck? Are we supposed to believe that you Suits are committed to quality, that you know that the moviegoing public deserves top-notch entertainment week after week, or that you even care a tinker's damn about us at all?       I got news for you, LaLaLand. Somebody noticed. This here humble country doctor noticed, and he's broken his silence, and he's armed for bear....       Fans, friends, fanatics, lend me your ears. The month of April, in the year of Our Lord, Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Eight will from here on out be forever known as Grey April. The month that Hollywood forgot how to release a good movie, with two slight exceptions.       Let's look back, shall we?       Week One The much-talked about and WAY overhyped Lost In Space finally "lands" in theatres (notice the pun, courtesy of Studio Publicity Stooge #1). Wheeeeee-ha...... Actors who look like they could care less whether or not their careers went any further competing against special effects done for the sake of themselves and nothing more. All the talk and gossip and Science-fiction convention debate comes to a head, and peters out like a used birthday candle on a stale cake. The only thing missing from this outer-space cathouse was the French perfume. Then there's Mercury Rising, the latest "thriller" with Bruce Willis and Alec Baldwin. Did anyone really care one way or the other? What could've been a tight little thriller about an autistic savant who can break codes turns into an overblown egofest with Mr. Kim Basinger going head to head with Mr. Demi Moore. Flash over substance got a whole new meaning with this cow. Oh, and let's not forget Jurassic Park 3: Barney Escapes, or whatever that pig was. Granted, it was a child's movie, but it was about as necessary as that last Power Rangers miscarriage.       Week Two Billy Crystal spent some time on Oscar Night trying to make sure that we knew he had a movie coming out in a few weeks. He was wrong. What he gave us was a hundred-minute stand-up routine with one punchline -- a really tall guy. Then, after all the dull jokes and stumbling gag attempts were played out, he turns the whole thing around and tries to jerk a few tears with a semi-tragic ending. It was tired before the forty-minute mark, and it never woke up. And, speaking of tired, whoever had the bright idea to make The Odd Couple Part Two ought to be forced to sit and watch the thing over and over for about the next year, the way those of us with HBO and Showtime will have to. There is nothing more horrifying than to watch men older than my granddaddy do pratfalls and slapstick comedy. Lucille Ball learned that sad lesson a couple of years before she died with that last TV show, and maybe now Lemmon and Matthau will learn it, too. Nobody can laugh when they're scared one of the actors will break a hip. The Grumpy Old Men series spawned some laughs, but even it stretched the limits of comic taste. Out to Sea was almost too sad to watch, and this mess was just worked toward ruining a lot of good memories of a good comedy team. Thanks, guys.       Week Three Finally, after waiting for what seems like a year or more, we finally got Nightwatch, the movie that had one of the best publicity trailers I've ever seen. Then, it disappears into Movie Limbo for whatever reason. It finally gets released, in the middle of spring (not the best time of year for horror movies, if you'll think about it...), and it absolutely falls flatter than a possum in the highway. Serial killer in a morgue..... Booo! By the time it came out, nobody cared or even remembered the only publicity campaign it had. The whole thing looked like a late-Saturday-night Cinemax time-killer, and that's being nice. To counteract that, they give us talking parrots. Cute. Babe with feathers. Neat. Next. How's about letting another Friends star make a movie? Please? After the Monumental yawn factory that they titled The Object of My Affection, that whole cast ought to start counting their blessings that they ever got a job in TV, because, if this is the kind of "big screen" talent they possess, God help us when that show goes off the air. Half the NBC All-Star cast floats through this movie, all of them trying to be cute and oh-so politically correct, and be poignant and funny, it comes across like a "very special episode" of Must-See Thursday's New Show, "Who Gives A Rat's Butt?"       Week Four Just this past week, we get the last entries into the race for the Grey April Championship. The latest attempt to make a star out of Gwyneth Paltrow, Sliding Doors, a concept movie that folds back on itself about two hundred times and never unfolds to make any sense. Two Girls and A Guy marks the comeback of Robert Downey, Jr. Huzzah. Stay in jail. You're a better actor in court, Robert.       My dear sweet Auntie Grizelda, spare me the mediocrity! Some of these movies were okay, I give you that, if you stretch the definition of "okay" to the absolute maximum and throw in free Junior Mints and extra nachos. But, is "okay" acceptable for an ENTIRE MONTH? Certainly not.       Now, before you bow up and start spouting, allow me to say this. There was one movie that broke out of that mode and had some bite. City of Angels was nicely done, granted. But it was a remake of another movie that was highly regarded, so it had a boost there. And, remember, it tripped over a ten-pound bag of sugar near the end, and that hurt the movie some. But it was full of impressive performances from all involved, and had moments of pure genius, pure passion, and pure emotion.       The other exception I talked about, even though it was released the last weekend of March, I'm counting as an April movie because I've seen it three times in April. I'm talking about the rerelease of Grease, celebrating its twentieth anniversary. I hear you grinning and snickering as I speak, but allow me to explain. I'll be the first to admit this movie is hokey, it's sloppily made, the songs are corny, the cast is all way too old to be playing teenagers. I give you all that. But, honestly, have you sat in a theatre and seen the movie again? People are singing aloud to every song, they are dancing and hand-jiving in the aisles, they are quoting the script line for line, and they are interacting with the movie, yelling out added dialog and jokes and criticisms like some sort of bizarre Greek chorus. Sound familiar? Think about another hokey, stupid movie with an odd cast and stupid songs and blocky camera work and lighting. A movie that people are singing with and dancing with and shouting at the screen to in the same way. PREDICTION ALERT: Grease will be the new Rocky Horror Picture Show, if it's marketed right and pushed in the right direction. It already has the following thanks to the jillion appearances on the various cable channels, it has the double-platinum soundtrack, and it has Travolta. It also has Olivia Newton-John in Spandex, a plus for any argument, including world peace.       So, to wrap things up, dear friends, April is behind us, thank DeMille. We can bid goodbye forever to Grey April, the Season of Film Blahs. Maybe, with May coming and the early onslaught of Summer Walletbusters, we might get a few things worth sitting through. Lord knows, it'll never be any worse than what we just lived through.       Buck up, me hearties! We survived the murky Spring thaw. Here's to a better May.

Text Menu