So some joker created a hashtag today that jumped to the top of twitter trends and caught my attention: #filmfoodeating. The game seems to just be to incorporate food into movie titles. Well, of course I latched on and haven’t let go. Here is a compendium of my contributions. And please, do a search over at twitter to get in on the fun.

• @repressd Whoops! Good job! Too many to read, great minds think alike.. Chew on this: Bedtime for Garbonzo #filmfoodeating NOW I’M DONE!
• My final #filmfoodeating Spider-Flan, Grouperman, Cat on a Pot Pie Roof, Beauty and the Feast, Cracker, Gumbo, Free Chili, Meat Streets
• Oklahomefries! #filmfoodeating that one’s for you @deadcenter
• Canard Boiled #filmfoodeating addendum to John Woo Edition
• Lard Target, A Feta Tomorrow, Face Froth #filmfoodeating John Woo Edition
• Purple Chrain #filmfoodeating @kashrutnews @Jewishtweets I know you’ll get this.
• Spinal Frappe, Henry Portrait of a Cereal Killer, Boureka (baraka), Black Nar-tzimis, Gentlemen’s A-quiche-ment #filmfoodeating
• Passion of the Slice, Greatest Story Jello Mold #filmfoodeating Jesus Edition
• Fiddler on the Stew, The Cholent (the chosen), Lentil #filmfoodeating Jewish Edition
• Husbands and Chives, Shadows and Nog, Brine and Misdemeanors, Bananas :) #filmfoodeating Woody Allen Edition
• Wages of Pear, Á Bout de Soufflé, Elevator to the Shallots, The Seventh Veal #filmfoodeating @CRITERION Edition
• Last Bite at McCool’s, Lawrence of Arrabiata, Cakes on a Plane, The Graviator, Meringues of New York, I Am Ham #filmfoodeating
• While You Were Eating, Juarassic Tarte #filmfoodeating contributed by my twitterless girlfriend
• Leaving Lox Vegas #filmfoodeating this one is sort of a repeat, but I couldn’t resist.
• Guacstoppers, Blue Chips :), Leaving Manchego, Vicky Tortilla Barcelona #filmfoodeating
• You’ve Got Kale #filmfoodeating
• Detroit Guac City #filmfoodeating that ones for you @NachosNY
• Bakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo #filmfoodeating
• Gourd of the Rings #filmfoodeating
• I don’t know why this is trending, but I love it #filmfoodeating Schindler’s Grits

[Angelika Film Center](http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?dirflg=r&daddr=Grand+Cen tral+Station,+NYC&ie=UTF8&moduleurl=http:%2F%2Fmaps.google.com%2Fhelp%2Fmaps%2 Ftransit%2Fnyc%2Fmapplet.html&mapclient=google&hl=en&msa=0&msid=10622246132034 3446210.00046a42851af44f1b39c&ll=40.726023,-73.99748&spn=0.005838,0.009656&z=1 7) On the surface, Soho’s Angelika Film Center’s great location, phenomenal programming, delectable café and the weight of a national theater alliance to throw behind riskier fare make it seem like the perfect art house cinema. Unfortunately, the auditoriums in this Manhattan mainstay are too close to the earth’s core to allow for a decent screening. Tucked away dangerously close to the nearby subway stop, you’ll have to wait for a transit strike if you want to watch a film uninterrupted.

When you walk up to the box office of the Angelika, it doesn’t take long for the building to enchant you. Perched on a massive corner at Houston and Mercer streets, the hand changed “Now Playing” sign evokes a simpler time in cinema, wholly analog in nature. An eave over the box office has art deco inspired lettering emblazoned on it, with stairs leading up into the ticketing vestibule; it is like walking up a tongue into a mouth, a warm place to rest.

The entire first floor boast’s one of Lower Manhattan’s most capacious cafés. Rarely overcrowded, it is a great place to sit and get some work done, chow down on a pastry and suck back a cup o’ joe. Adding to the fun, it is unquestionably a cinema cafe, with posters and postcards littering the tables and walls. It never stoops to the level of a lobby. The movement to add legitimate café space into theaters is ingenious, this is a haven for cinéfiles and maker’s alike.

But one can only tarry upstairs for so long. After all, this is a theater as well, and you probably paid to see a show. Once your ticket is snuffed out by the usher, the descent into New York’s bowels begins via escalator; stairs for adventure seekers. Don’t bother silencing your mobile, there’s no service where you’re going. Okay, this is an exaggeration. The auditoriums are probably a story and a half, maybe two stories, below street level. Other theaters go much lower, but none have to compete with the MTA as the Angelika does.

Looking past the subterranean handicap, the auditoriums themselves are subpar. The screens are small and too high up, the projectors too far away. The rooms are long and narrow, trying to fit more seats “vertically”, but the picture quality must suffer as a tradeoff. When you can’t hear the train coming by every twenty minutes, you can hear films in the auditoriums next door if stuff is getting blow’d up in them.

Now, I will say that the Angelika is in the business of doing the impossible, that being bringing independent cinema of the world to the masses. It is a very tough business and they do an incredible job of programming for an increasingly diverse audience. The Angelika always has provocative new work showing. At time of writing, I can tell you I want to see everything they have showing right now. In a way, they have cornered the market on independent fare. They’re not the only art house in the city, but they are one of the busiest; the breadth of their offerings is remarkable.

So you have a choice to make: see groundbreaking new work from an international library in a subpar environment or don’t. Personally, I will always go with the former. Sometimes, what you crave is only at the Angelika, and you should absolutely go see it. We have been spoiled in recent years. AMC in particular, [as mentioned in a previous article](http://www.candlerblog.com/2009/04/22/review-amc-loews-lincoln- square-nyc/), has made a very strong push to entice audiences with impeccable aural and visual experiences. Believe it or not, this is a relatively young movement. Before we cared so much about screening quality we would just go to the movies, and get lost in the world of film, however broken or degraded our surrounding may be. If it is great cinema you seek, then the Angelika is perfect, maybe even magical.

STAND CLEAR THE CLOSING DOOR!!! (naw, I kid)

If you were wondering how oscar winning director Ron Howard spends his weekends, you will find the answer in his latest film, Angels & Demons, which appears to have been conceived and produced in his spare time. Cobbled together from a thin plot by pulp sensationalist Dan Brown’s novel of the same name, the story follows Harvard symbologist (semiologist, no?) Robert Langdon on a winding mystery through the annals of Vatican history. While the material is fascinating, the film suffers mostly from whiplash, trying desperately to keep your attention on the winding streets of Rome but forgetting to build any kind of relationship with the players involved.

After the kidnapping of the four cardinals favored to replace the recently deceased pope, Mr. Langdon, played by an unusually stolid Tom Hanks, is called to the Vatican to consult for the Church, who believes the Illuminati, a cabal of scientists and scholars supposedly killed off in the 17th century, have returned for vengeance. Upon arrival, he meets Vittoria Vetra, a sultry physicist thesped by the wondrous Ayelet Zurer. She was called in when antimatter stolen from the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) in Geneva turns up hidden somewhere in Vatican City. Suspended between two magnets in a battery powered canister, the mysterious antimatter will ignite should it lose power, which will happen at the convenient stroke of midnight.

All characters in place, Langdon immediately bites on one of the clues offered up by the kidnapper/terrorist and off we go. Bouncing around from church to church with brief spates in the Vatican archives, the film gets old very fast. Much of this has to do with the character of Robert Langdon, a milquetoast academic who never even surrenders to the gods of logic, instead buying into anti-Christian dogma religiously, ironically. He has no skin in the game, to put it more bluntly. There are lives on the line so he must participate, but since he has no reveal, no emotional discord to be resolved, he becomes less of a protagonist and more a vehicle to get us from point to point, murder to murder, and to Mr. Brown’s semiotic agenda.

Along the way we meet Patrick McKenna, the emotinally invested Camerlengo charged with administering the Pope’s office until a new one is elected. Filling the sub-papal shoes is Ewan McGregor, this time sporting an Irish accent and an innocent sneer to boot. His foil is the aging Cardinal Strauss, who is charged with leading the conclave to elect the new pope. Strauss, played with dependable efficacy by Armin Mueller-Stahl, represents the unbending faith of the deeply codified organization, while McKenna is something of a wide-eyed revolutionary, seemingly rewriting church law in an effort to save the lives of both the endangered priests and the public at large. While both are fine actors in their own regard, neither McGregor nor Mueller-Stahl is given a hook on which to hang a performance, a running theme in this movie.

The film isn’t without its high points, particularly at the Large Hadron Collider at the beginning. Geeks around the world will be impressed by the footage taken from within the actual particle accelerator. The filmmakers go above and beyond to make the process of smashing protons together, which is yet to be tested at CERN’s massive Swiss facility, both scientifically plausible and visually exhillerating. Sadly, the real science ends once the antimatter is stolen. For the duration of the film, it is nothing more than a huge bomb. The truth is that while we have no idea what would happen if antimatter and matter came in contact with one another, the general consensus is that it would be freaking scary, like destroy the universe scary. It is not this scientific inaccuracy that is so annoying but the unwillingness to explore this most interesting boundary of both science and religion.

In the end, this is a mystery with religious iconography as an overarching MacGuffin. So much time is spent orienting the audience that there is hardly any chance to slow down and make sense of the dastardly plot. Writers David Koepp and Akiva Goldsman are no slouches, but they have composed a wooden script this time out. Perhaps they are not to blame; maybe not Ron Howard either. Dan Brown’s novels are unabashed pulp shlock while these film adaptations are approached with misguided reverence for the originals. Perhaps the further from Mr. Brown these stories get, and they are phenomenal tales, the better they will be. We’ll just have to wait and see when his next novel, The Lost Symbol, slated for the supposed largest first printing in Random House history, hits shelves this fall and inevitably, theaters in a few years.

“Live long and prosper” is the least that one could say about the Star Trek franchise. Over four decades have passed since the first incarnation of Gene Roddenberry’s brainchild. The original series, known for it’s cheese and moral pomp, ran a mere three seasons, but nonetheless inspired eleven movies, five television series, countless books, toys, videogames and, above all, generations of space enthusaists and geeks. Daunting, then, is the task of re-introducing the classic characters onto the big screen. Thankfully, director and television impresario J.J. Abrams rises to the occasion to make Star Trek (it’s actually the first film to bear that name alone) not only a welcome addition, but an inspired thrill-ride which really kicks summer 2009 into gear.

Unlike [some other 2009 blockbuster](http://www.candlerblog.com/2009/05/08/review-x-men-origins- wolverine/), screenwriters Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman have crafted a legitimate origin story for the franchise. The film opens with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock as children on their respective planets showing a distinct promise of greatness. Over the years, the Star Trek galaxy has become so vast that the characters within it seem to have shrunk in stature, considered more to be model citizens of the Federation than anything more. By focusing on the early years of these two shipmates, Mr. Abrams is emphasizing that Kirk, Spock and their cohorts are not the norm; they are extraordinary; they are superheroes.

Any remake (rehash or reboot, whichever you prefer) suffers from comparison to its forebears, but Mr. Abrams and friends have found the perfect plot to circumvent continued scrutiny, opening up poetic leeway for the assumed sequels to come. The plot is simple yet elegant, laid out in a perfect linear manner. As I said before, this is a true origin story, and all of the hero story beats hit on every mark. The added fun here is that our two main characters, Spock and Kirk, antiphonally fill the shoes of student and teacher for each other. This push and pull of one hero against another is not only fascinating, it’s great fun to watch.

Chris Pine slips nicely into the captain’s chair as James T. Kirk, the role that made William Shatner a household name. Ditching the Shat’s signature pentameter, Mr. Pine retains the attitude of the original of the character without delving into impersonation. Confident, skilled, smug and dead sexy, this is the Kirk we have all known for so long but in a more youthful body. Similarly, Zachary Quinto dons the pointy ears of Mr. Spock, but imbues the character with his own brand of emotional sophistication. He feels a little more relatable than Leonard Nimoy was in the same role, I want to say more human. This is a wonderful progression for Spock and I can’t wait to see where Mr. Quinto takes this.

The other performances are what some would call impersonation, but what I would call skilled homage. My personal favorite is Karl Urban as Leonard “Bones” McCoy. Mr. Urban pulls off a perfect young DeForest Kelley, who played the role originally; he offers up that recognizable gruffness while introducing his own bright-eyed views of space travel. The same goes for British funnyman Simon Pegg as Montgomery Scott, or Scotty. While his resemblance to a young James Doohan is not as noticeable, he does reprise the signature wit and charm of the Scotch engineer.

Also, Bruce Greenwood broods as the aging Captiain Christopher Pike and Anton Yelchin provides some xenophobic laughs as Pavel Chekov. The only egregious misstep is the role of Lieutenant Uhura, in which Zoë Saldana does her best to hold her own as the lone woman on the bridge but can’t quite rise above her designation as eye-candy. It is unfortunate that a series so dedicated to a unified Earth still relies on things like Chekov’s pronounciation of the letter “V” or Uhura’s sex appeal to keep people grounded. Ms. Saldana is certainly the loser here, because while we get to see Chekov’s technical acumen and heart of gold on display, all we really see of Uhura is her thighs.

Visually we are offered inspired eyefuls from the first frame to the last. The special effects are a wonder and the action scenes are enthralling, particularly a duel featuring Mr. Sulu coming out of his intellectual shell. The cinematography itself is fine, but I wonder about the extensive use of lens flair throughout. On one level, it enhances many shots by adding an extra layer of information to the frame. Still, it seems to take away more than it adds and serves no emotional purpose as it did in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Punch Drunk Love. Director of photography Dan Mindel may not pull in any awards for this film, but he sure as hell can make an action scene come together with incredible flair (no pun intended). I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Michael Giacchino’s appropriately bombastic score, which elevates so many key moments of the film, including the opening title, to the kind of heart-pounding experience that makes you want to jump out of your seat and cheer.

J.J. Abrams is known for his compelling mystery work (you can read what he thinks on the subject here and listen to his thoughts here). In the past decade he has captivated a nation with his multiple twisted television series, but this is only his second feature as director. How appropriate then, that one of our most prolific television writers helm a cinematic adaptation of one of our most beloved skeins. Infamously approaching the project as a non-Trekkie, Mr. Abrams cut through the fandom and lore in an effort to find the human (and Vulcan…you know what I mean) story at the core. This year’s Star Trek holds its own not only against the rest of the franchise but against all other competitions. I find it hard to believe that you have more fun at any other movie this summer, but it’s only mid-May. Here’s to a great start to summer 2009.

While we’re doing our own research on the topic here at the candler blog, there is a great article on the differences in IMAX screen sizes over at The Big Screen Cinema Guide. After [Aziz Ansari’s consumer rant](http://www.candlerblog.com/2009/05/13/reblogged-aziz-ansari-is- angry-at-imax/) exploded across the internet earlier this week, it’s been a big topic of conversation. The Big Screen folks put in layman’s terms the differences in screen size. This may not be a technological issue but a marketing one. IMAX technicians have their own terminology for the bigger and smaller screens, maybe we as consumers should have one too. We’ll be getting deeper into this next week.

It has not gone unnoticed that Disney princesses have shared a skin tone for about 5 decades: white. There are exceptions to this rule, such as Jasmine and Pocahantas. Still, the animators at the Mouse House are looking to fill a noticeable gap in their royal equality this winter with The Princess and the Frog, the first film to feature a black princess.

There isn’t much to say as all we have to go on so far is this teaser trailer released yesterday. The internet is already aflame with arguments over the white prince. “Why no strong black man?” the internet is asking. Well, I’ll reserve judgement for the actual film. In the meantime, let’s take a look at this trailer.

Otherwise ho-hum, this preview really banks on the whole “first black princess” thing. After a quick restrospective of Disney’s most beloved (read: boffo) 2-dimensional films, an outline of the newest princess, Tiana, is drawn onto a blank parchment and then POW! fills in with color. While the presence of an African-American princess is groundbreaking in the Disney canon, I’m personally more excited to see an animated New Orleans French Quarter. I’m not positive, but this may be the most modern princess story Disney has attempted, set in America no less. Watch the trailer below and leave your thoughts in the comments.

The following short and sweet review comes from my account over at goodreads.com. If you’re a goodreads user, feel free to check in on my reading list and tell me what you think.

[](http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12466.The_Castle_in_the_Fo rest_A_Novel) [The Castle in the Forest: A Novel](http://www.goodreads.com/boo k/show/12466.The_Castle_in_the_Forest_A_Novel) by Norman Mailer

[

My review

](http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/53805874) rating: 4 of 5 stars This book it tough to swallow as it humanizes one of the most vile people in history, Adolf Hitler. However, once I allowed myself to get into the book, I saw the genius behind Mailer’s work. If we humanize a man by seeing him through the eyes of a devil, what does that say about us? Layers and questions fill this book, making it more of a stimulating read than an informational one. Also, Mailer’s prose is incredible here. He is like a chameleon, entering an older dialect for an older tale. I knew he was great, just didn’t realize he was so diverse. A master of letters! (exclamation points add to the book’s charm. check it out.

View all my reviews.

[caption id="" align=“alignright” width=“396” caption=“Comparrison of Real vs. Fake IMAX Screens”][/caption]

Funnyman Aziz Ansari, currently gaining some traction through his role as Tom Haverford on NBC’s Parks and Recreation, went on a little bit of a rampage yesterday about IMAX technology after seeing Star Trek on a sub-par screen that was billed as The IMAX Experience. His language is a bit colorful on the matter, but you should [definitely check it out over at his site, Aziz is Bored](http://azizisbored.tumblr.com/post/106587114/reblog-the-fuck-out-of- this-warning-amc-theaters-are).

The short of it is that we are in the very early years of IMAX as a feature length distribution method, and there are bound to be some hiccups along the way. Once the centerpiece of many a science museum, the massive screens and 65mm projectors have since been adapted for longer spools of film and thus year-round mainstream use. I wouldn’t be surprised to see some faltering along the way. Worse, I know for a fact that most viewers won’t care either way.

I plan to do some research on the subject shortly, but in the meantime you can check out Aziz’s [update ](http://azizisbored.tumblr.com/post/106910193/aziz- vs-imax-round-2-imax-ceo-responds-and-so-do-i)on his blog in which he challenges the CEO of IMAX, Richard Gelfond, to a debate. I do hope that happens, as we at the candler blog believe that distribution methods should be discussed openly. For a list of IMAX theaters and specific details near you, check out this list over at Large Format Examiner.

Drugs, guns, vulgarity and rims are just the tip of the pigeonholed iceberg that is Benny Boom’s feature debut, Next Day Air; but what this little caper has that so many other films of a similar ilk lack is heart, and lots of it.

The improbable story follows ten bricks of cocaine from a formidable drug dealer in Calexico, California to his dispatcher in Philadelphia by way of an overnight delivery service, Next Day Air. Donald Faison, of Scrubs fame, plays Leo Jackson, a chronically stoned delivery man for the fictitious company, whose mind is so clouded on the job that he delivers the coke to apartment 302 instead of 303, setting events in motion. The drugs end up in the hands of fledgling criminals Guch, Brody and Hassie instead of the diminutive yet feisty Jesus, who prefers to be called “Gee-sus” rather than “Hay-zoos”. While Hassie is sleeping on the couch, as he is for the most of the film, Guch and Brody, played with an incredible balance of humor and charisma by Wood Harris and Mike Epps, respectively, hatch a plan to sell the dope to Brody’s cousin, Shavoo, before the rightful owners get wise to the mistake. Think of it like True Romance but without white people and set in Philly.

Though Mr. Faison, whose comedic talents are on display in full force, opens the film with a quick line of dialogue, the story doesn’t really belong to him. Instead, Guch and Brody are really at the center of this tall tale. True, they are hardened criminals with blood on their hands (blood from a gruesome yet hilarious flashback, that is) living in an apartment full of blingy contraband with guns in every corner. Still, they are some kind of lovable fools; boys really, who somehow landed in a playground of vices instead growing up. Just watching the two play Xbox, yelling and hissing at the plasma TV, is evidence enough of their terminal adolescence.

In contrast is Brody’s cousin, Shavoo, the local drug dealer who can “turn ten into twenty” by way of compressing and cutting the dastardly white powder. He is, decidedly, a swindler, yet we also learn he is a dreamer, wishing of a way out of his dirty business. After receiving a laughable call from his coz with details on the new found blow (“bitches”), Shavoo sees a way out by buying the coke, turning more than double the profit, and leaving the game forever.

Next Day Air plays heavy on the laughs, with each specific sub-plot full of goofy moments, a welcome to change to the shoot ’em up street tale drama. Mos Def appears briefly for added comic relief, but this isn’t just a comedy. There is grit in almost every frame of this movie. The film’s palette is something of a washed out yellow with a milky blue in the blacks. This is a sign of aged film, perhaps short ends from various rolls, implying a shoe- string budget and a make-it-as-you-can shooting schedule. Assumedly, this invokes the blaxploitation cinema that this film aims to build upon. Unlike those films from the 1970s, however, there isn’t really any presence of “the man”, though threat of “the Feds” is mentioned in passing. Where others may call this a revival of the blaxploitation movement, I would say the film’s roots lie closer to Quentin Tarantino’s Resevoir Dogs, an open and shut heist where the evil-doers also serve as judge, jury and executioner.

It must be said that the film is full of a number of harsh stereotypes, the kind of stuff that many black filmmakers in Hollywood have been trying to shake for a long time. African-American film is one of the fastest growing genres in the country and much of that movement is a deviation from the kind of street thuggery portrayed in Next Day Air. The real charm of Benny Boom’s film, however, is it’s ability to question this base amoral lifestyle while keeping you laughing. Mr. Boom shows real promise as a critical filmmaker. Much in the way that David Fincher’s 1999 Fight Club served as a critique of masculity while celerating it’s basest functions, so to does Next Day Air seemingly glorify thug culture while refuting it’s relevance. I won’t give away the end of the film, but I will say the right people get their comeuppance. Personally, I cannot wait to see where Mr. Boom goes from here, but it will certainly be up.

This Panasonic camera commercial makes think of only a single word: amazing. Too bad camcorders have seemingly gotten worse over the years. That fancy HD- ified whatchamacallit you got for Hanukkah can’t make you look this good on the beach, and in slow mo, can it? Nah, didn’t think so. Tune in for this awesome action here.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KjoBBzZdt0