Archive for the ‘Paris Hilton’ Category

This edition of Weekend at the Movies was written by pizappas and plainclothesman. We’re sort of like Ebert & Roeper, only way more attractive.


This week’s crop of movies are just SO GOOD that I couldn’t let plainclothesman have them all to himself. I needed to get in on this action.

Fool’s Gold: You know how in the preview for Austin Powers: Goldmember you kept seeing him go “I love goooooooooold!!!”? As much as I would have embraced the chance to utter those immortal words in earnest myself, I couldn’t bring myself to do it after i watched this trailer.

On the red carpet at the Fool’s Gold opening.

Basically, Kate Hudson needs money, Matthew McConaughay is a sexy fuck-up, and together they embark on a harebrained scheme to make some cash. Does this not sound like the actual real-life premise involved with making this movie? It gets even more meta with the title: presumably in the movie, and in real life both, they discover that one can be tricked by the glittery allure of the gold stuff, and in fact find the real meaning of wealth elsewhere.

On a side note, if you, like me, liked Dirty Sexy Money (don’t be a hater), and are jonesing for Donald Sutherland as a reserved old rich man – jones no more! Sage and spry and fancy as ever, here he is for the best 2 seconds of the trailer. It’s playing at the Pavilion and the United Artists on Court Street.

Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins: Protagonist escapes from his loud, crazy family and goes on to become a rich success star. He bring back his fancy fiancee to meet the loud, crazy relatives and loud, crazy things happen. Though a tried and true formula, I am impressed by their bold move to not stage this at Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or a relative’s funeral… I am not quite sure if loud, crazy estranged-child-coming-home-from-the-big-city movies are even allowed to happen in the summer. But hey! This is 2008. Anything is possible.

The best thing about this looks to be James Earl Jones playing Martin Lawrence’s dad. Not a casting call I would’ve made, but I don’t get paid the big bucks now do I? And he does seem to have something about him that drives his sons away, like to Hollywood for fame and fortune, or to Queens to work at MacDowell’s.

It’s playing at the Pavilion and the United Artists on Court Street.

The Hottie & The Nottie:


As simple as the concept seems, I was confused when I watched this preview! Looking at the poster, it really seems like Paris has befriended a zombie! I thought maybe LiLo was acting as a mama figure to the celebutante and had Taken Her Daughter To Work With Her (Day)?

But no, it turns out that this girl legit is supposed to look that way. That’s weird. But OK, if we can suspend our disbelief that Paris is an actor (zing! never-before-done-ZING!), then we can suspend our disbelief on the costume/makeup job on the “nottie.”

Blah blah, do I really need to tell you the plot of this movie? If you’re going to go see this, I’m impressed that you can actually read. Stay away from me. Luckily this is only playing uptown at the AMC Empire 25 (far from Brooklyn).


Vince Vaughn’s Wild West Comedy Show: 30 Days & 30 Nights – Hollywood to the Heartland: Proportionately, the length of this title far exceeds my interest in the film it is describing. From the trailer and clips, this movie seems to be about a bunch of guys who were convinced to be comedians by their drunk frat brothers at 3am before passing out in their own vomit. Vince Vaughn takes them on a bus to comedy shows as well as some of his famous friends as a back up plan. Stars Justin Long of Dodgeball and Jon Favreau of Swingers talk to the audience about…being Justin Long of Dodgeball and Jon Favreau of Swingers. If you’re a fan of Dane Cook’s inane Tourgasm series, this film looks like it would be a worthy accompaniment. This is playing at the AMC Loews Village 7.

The Band’s Visit: An Egyptian Police brass band are on their way to play an initiation ceremony at an Arab arts center, but get sidetracked in a small Israeli town. The film was selected as Israel’s Academy Award Foreign Language film, but was disqualified because more than half of the film’s dialogue is in English instead of Arabic or Hebrew. All the same, it is my pick of the week. Unfortunately, it is only playing at the Angelika.

In Bruges: Martin McDonagh, who is normally a writer for the stage, has been advertising the hell out of this little dark comedy. The trailer has played before almost every release I’ve seen in the past two months, and I still find it pretty amusing. Colin Farrell wears a perma-scowl throughout as the characters make fun of midgets, prostitutes, Belgians and fat Americans. Farrell has never really done comedy before (unless you count Miami Vice) but it seems to be a pretty good fit. While the goofy hitman in crisis movie has been done before, this looks like a well written comedy with some great actors. It’s playing at the Angelika.

Also, Gimme Shelter will be playing at the Landmark Sunshine on Friday Night at midnight, and BAM, in addition to playing Oscar contenders at BAM Rose Cinemas, will be screening His Girl Friday on Valentine’s Day. For more info, please go here. And for anyone who hasn’t seen His Girl Friday, it’s a fantastic Howard Hawks movie with Carey Grant and Rosalind Russell that is perfect for Valentine’s Day.

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She’s been caught wasted. She’s been in jail. She’s made a sex video. But now Paris Hilton really just wants to be taken seriously. Her agent threw a bunch of projects at her, but she threw them all back saying “No! This is the year that Paris Hilton makes a name for herself. I want to star in Hottie or Nottie!” The film is being released next February and is apparently about Paris Hilton’s relationship with a girl who has come back from the dead and wishes to feed on her brains.


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Why is it hard to make new friends after college? Because you’re not drunk as often? False. Because you aren’t going to classes with people who are interested in the same topics as you? Uh-uh. Because you aren’t as young and attractive as you were then? Possibly. Because you don’t know the same people to gossip about? BINGO!

For me and my friends, celebrities have replaced the ‘known students’ (j-lo with the short-shorts, douchey with the loud talking and pregnant-getting, omar with the booty, et cetera) on campus that I liked to talk about. So my friends and I gossip about Britney’s downfall and Owen’s suicide and all that because we live in different places and work in different places and don’t see the same cast of characters every day anymore!

The exception is what I like to call the ‘Melrose Rule,’ wherein if five or more people have kissed five or more of said same people and live in the same building, outside influence is rarely necessary (only for 2-5 episode guest stints) and you can forego celebrity gossip for inner turmoil. But since I can’t get all my friends to move to the same building and they won’t play spin the bottle with me (prudes) we have to rely on the celebs for us to have common shit-talking ground.

Clearly, we gossip about each other too but there are only a finite number of us, whereas on a large campus or the pages of US Weekly there are dozens of tasty pieces to choose from.

I’m just saying.

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me: oh, one of my suggestions, in case i forget it before the meeting, is to just tag all of our posts paris hilton and see if it helps

recklesley: i think that’s cheating

me: whatEVER

the system is corrupt

recklesley: it’s ok

we need to be a pillar of ethics

me: arrgh

recklesley: what’s wrong?

me: ethics!

recklesley: haha

i feel the same way

me: no one else has them, why should we??

recklesley: because we’re better

me: but everyone else has self-satisfaction and righteousness too, i think it’s totally passe to think that you have to be morally upstanding to be morally righteous

recklesley: haha

that’s a good point


Paris Hilton – Not Cheating

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Dear Jesus,

Please release us from the bonds of the attention whores, the celebutantes, and the wrongfully famous. We miss the newspaper.

Best wishes,
Brooklyn Skeptic

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Paris Hilton has all of America in a tizzy. Her story, her trial, her imprisonment, her release, and her subsequent incarceration have been dissected on every channel, in every newspaper, over every dinner table, and at every water cooler. No, it’s not that we have nothing better to do with our time. It’s that America sees Hilton for what she truly is: a harbinger of the Revolution.

As has been proven time and time again, a revolution is built on a number of compounding factors – an essential sequence of events.

First the celebutantes fall.
Then the establishment falls.
Then the people rise up.

With Paris Hilton securely in jail for 45 days (her release and recapture essential to assure she will have to serve her full sentence), she will fall out of the public eye if only because her vagina will not be all over the morning paper. Without her drug and booze-addled antics, the news media will have no choice but to cover second rate stories, like the war and assorted ethics crises in the upper echelons of the government. The coverage of these stories – as opposed to contract negotiations for the next season of “The Simple Life” – will disgust Americans and very rich foreigners. They will demand all government leaders to step down and be sent out to the sea on ice floes. And then the people, free from the tyranny of celebrity culture and appallingly unethical government leaders, will rise up and recreate a new America.

The people are wise and wily. We only pretend to be achingly enthralled with the goings-on of drunk 20-somethings (hi readership!). But really, we’re just lining up all of the pawns to begin the saga of reclaiming our autonomy. So keep your eyes on E!. This revolution will be televised.

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Paris Hilton has been released from jail. I figured she’d be dismissed early, but this early? It’s been like, four days. What a disappointment. Apparently she’s leaving due to some undisclosed “medical reasons.” Right. I don’t think cocaine withdrawal or being too stupid should count as actual medical conditions. Although, Lindsay Lohan is pushing that theory. (I worry about her.)

And wasn’t Paris planning to pen a memoir about her prison experience, entitled: “I Suck….Everything”? Whatever. She’ll probably still write it. And I’m sure it will be amazing…ly dumb.

I am outraged.

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Hilton in the Hoosgow

Even though it’s gray and dreary outside, my heart is light and countenance jubilant, for today is the day Paris Hilton begins her jail sentence. Well done, legal system.

Paris Hilton cleaning the prison pool. She’s so brave.

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There comes a time in every universally acclaimed, pathologically sensitive man’s life when he must jump the shark on his own messiah complex. After going along in life, writing astoundingly beautiful music, collecting the accolades of critics and lay music-listeners, and remaining just shy enough of the radar that he might retain all his indie glory, Conor Oberst has finally let his awesomeness wash over him and pickle his brains.

On Friday night, I and another Skeptic traveled to the cursed depths of Midtown to watch Bright Eyes play the first of seven sold-out shows at Town Hall. The opener was a real warm glass of milk of a band – Gillian Welch. Perhaps if I were lactose tolerant and liked folk music, my feelings might be a little bit different. But the crowd seemed to dig it and, later when she came back on to sing “Look at Miss Ohio” with Bright Eyes during their encore, I was slightly more into it.

But back to the main event. The stage was set with flowers and fences like a front yard in heaven or the deep south, or like a funeral. The band came on with each member dressed entirely in white. In the New York Times, Conor noted, “I was going for this just-stepped-off-the-yacht sort of vibe.” It struck me as a tad gimicky in the style of the White Stripes. They played all or nearly all of their newest album, Cassadaga. They also threw in some other songs for good measure: Lua, The Calendar Hung Itself, First Day Of My Life, and possibly a few more. While the Cassadaga songs are undeniably strong, they are not my favorite in the catalogue. I’m assuming that the set list will switch up a bit with the rest of the New York stint. I just happened to be there the first night and those are probably the most fun songs to play right now.

The band for this tour consisted of twelve members – two drummers, a small orchestra, a couple of guitarists, a trumpet/keyboard player, and Conor. There was also a “thirteenth member” who was a video artist providing what I think was the most innovative, interesting stage dressing I’d ever seen. Where pretty much every other show I’ve been to has mostly worked with automated stage lights, flashing and changing colors constantly, this show featured a video projection of simple things happening, created live by this artist. There was food coloring dropped into a glass of water, swirling out and getting bumped around by the vibrations of the music coming from the speakers. There were old photographs flipping by. There were random lines drawn by an Etch-A-Sketch, flowing with the meter of the song. There were markers coloring in between the lines formed by the molding on wall behind the stage. During the performance of “Lime Tree,” Conor asked for the stage to be as dark as possible. As the lights went out, the video projected a single tea light, whose flame was moved directly behind Conor. It gave the impression of an organic spot light, its edges blurring slightly with the breath of the man holding it. It was all so simple, but fascinating because it was formed extemporaneously, so entwined with each song. I spent more time watching that art than the band.

About halfway through the show, Lou Reed joined the band on stage to play “Waiting for the Man” and “Dirty Blvd.” To watch Lou Reed and Conor, standing side by side, was like watching night and day join forces to make the best day imaginable. Sure, they’re both sad bastards, known for their eloquently expressed angst. But where Conor is so young and kind of twitchy, Lou Reed makes rocks look like spring chickens and has a deep stillness and confidence. Where Conor wrestles so obviously with his own forming legend and his own belief that he is cosmically important, Lou Reed quite possibly is the Messiah and clearly doesn’t think it’s that big a deal. Conor seemed like a yipping puppy at his feet, but that seems about right.

While it’s interesting to watch a band work out its existential issues on stage, I’m looking forward to their continuing to grow up and accepting that you can be an amazing band and not be related to god. When they shed the white clothes. And their performance-crucifixion fantasy:

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Okay. I know Conor Oberst is some kind of emo wunkerkind, constantly amazing us with the breadth of his talent. His agile mind weaves together the words that give voice to our mid-20s ennui. He wrangles country music into sweet melodies for hipsters crying into their PBRs, agonizing that their jeans aren’t skinny enough as they gather at the tops of their Converse. And now he can be seen in your local movie parlor portraying an American icon, a New York hero in a summer blockbuster. Oh Conor, one man can handle only so much glory.


Above: In Costume

Below: Out of Costume


But really, Spider-man was bad. And actually so is Cassadaga. Maybe he should just focus on music for right now.

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