MONDO EXTRAS

Staff Flick Picks

by The Editors August 16, 2007
The Movies On Cable We Can't Resist

Better than Williams being manic, however, is Nathan Lane's Albert Goldman being delicate and high-pitched. The shrieks he emits as Albert attempting to drive home to South Beach "with the parking brake on" and the way he falls to pieces while trying to slather pate on toast points ("I pierced the toast!") are some of my all-time favorite cinematic moments.

However, as good as Nathan Lane is, Hank Azaria's thick-accented and half-dressed houseboy nearly steals the show. Not only does the dude rock the Daisy Dukes better than most women, but I say, always keep Azaria doing muddled Spanish accents where he talks about the "natural heat" of his "Whaht-emalaness" and breaks down when adding "treemps" to his sweet and sour soup. I mean, who hasn't dreamed of having their own dancing Guatemalan houseboy who caters to their moods by giving them calming "pirin" tablets?

Finally, I can't overlook the brilliance of Gene Hackman as the conservative, shell-shocked senator raspily responding to the fact that Albert is not really the Grover Corners hausfrau he's been salivating over: "You can't be Jewish!" Good stuff.

And then there's Something To Talk About. "Oh, God, not this movie AGAIN!" my husband moans half a second after I've switched it on. It's true. I'll scroll through the guide and bypass unseen reruns of That 70s Show, new episodes of Man vs. Wild, and worthy movies like The Matrix or Schindler's List to watch Julia Roberts as the cuckolded wife who finally takes control of her disappointing, horse-based life.

I often attribute my shameful Julia Roberts obsession to how much I love her hair. I can't think of a style or color or movie where I didn't stare at her hair, completely transfixed by its unreal perfection. I think her best 'do is the silky chestnut pageboy she sports in I Love Trouble, and I can't even find fault with her frizzy Mystic Pizza mop. Hey, it was the '80s -- frizzy was the shizzy! (Or something.)

Honestly, though, it's not just Roberts's hair that has me punching in this sappy, Southern dramedy time after time. Maybe it's watching the quickly unraveling Grace hijacks a Junior League meeting to ask if anyone else there has had "any kind of sex with [her] husband," which then turns into a public airing of dirty lingerie among all the bed-bouncing Junior Leaguers. The abashed "oops" look on Roberts's face as she gets buffeted by the speedily departing pearl necklaces goes a long way to me forgiving her for Mary Reilly.

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Staff Flick Picks

by The Editors August 16, 2007
The Movies On Cable We Can’t Resist Better than Williams being manic, however, is Nathan Lane's Albert Goldman being delicate and high-pitched. The shrieks he emits as Albert attempting to drive home to South Beach "with the parking brake on" and the way he falls to pieces while trying to slather pate on toast points ("I pierced the toast!") are some of my all-time favorite cinematic moments. However, as good as Nathan Lane is, Hank Azaria's thick-accented and half-dressed houseboy nearly steals the show. Not only does the dude rock the Daisy Dukes better than most women, but I say, always keep Azaria doing muddled Spanish accents where he talks about the "natural heat" of his "Whaht-emalaness" and breaks down when adding "treemps" to his sweet and sour soup. I mean, who hasn't dreamed of having their own dancing Guatemalan houseboy who caters to their moods by giving them calming "pirin" tablets? Finally, I can't overlook the brilliance of Gene Hackman as the conservative, shell-shocked senator raspily responding to the fact that Albert is not really the Grover Corners hausfrau he's been salivating over: "You can't be Jewish!" Good stuff. And then there's Something To Talk About. "Oh, God, not this movie AGAIN!" my husband moans half a second after I've switched it on. It's true. I'll scroll through the guide and bypass unseen reruns of That 70s Show, new episodes of Man vs. Wild, and worthy movies like The Matrix or Schindler's List to watch Julia Roberts as the cuckolded wife who finally takes control of her disappointing, horse-based life. I often attribute my shameful Julia Roberts obsession to how much I love her hair. I can't think of a style or color or movie where I didn't stare at her hair, completely transfixed by its unreal perfection. I think her best 'do is the silky chestnut pageboy she sports in I Love Trouble, and I can't even find fault with her frizzy Mystic Pizza mop. Hey, it was the '80s -- frizzy was the shizzy! (Or something.) Honestly, though, it's not just Roberts's hair that has me punching in this sappy, Southern dramedy time after time. Maybe it's watching the quickly unraveling Grace hijacks a Junior League meeting to ask if anyone else there has had "any kind of sex with [her] husband," which then turns into a public airing of dirty lingerie among all the bed-bouncing Junior Leaguers. The abashed "oops" look on Roberts's face as she gets buffeted by the speedily departing pearl necklaces goes a long way to me forgiving her for Mary Reilly.

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13Next

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