Cinematical

Last week, I did some reporting from the CineVegas Film Festival, where I served as a juror. The winners were announced this weekend, and they have me wishing I had been able to see more stuff. She Unfolds By Day, Rolf Belgum's film about "a frustrated middle-aged son trying to manage his misanthropic 80-year-old mother," took home the Grand Jury Prize. A Special Jury Award went to Dark Streets, which our own Eric D. Snider gave a decent review to here. Bill Pullman took home a Special Jury Award for his performance in Your Name Here, reviewed by Eric here. The documentary jury, which included Super Size Me director Morgan Spurlock, selected Beautiful Losers, about "the lives of a loose-knit group of artists in the '80s who created their own art movement outside the mainstream." Hi, My Name is Ryan, focusing on "the clown prince of the downtown Phoenix art scene," picked up a Special Documentary Jury Prize.

Finished with my jury responsibilities, I managed to check out some features. A favorite of mine was Chelsea on the Rocks, by Abel Ferrara (director of Bad Lieutenant and a terrific little mob flick called The Funeral). It's a documentary about the infamous Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan, but it's far from traditional. There are lots of odd transitions and edits, the interviews are beyond casual (Ferrara says something along the lines of "No shit!" every ten seconds while listening to the stories of those living in the building), and there are some utterly ridiculous and unnecessary re-enactments of notorious events in the hotel's past (actors play Sid and Nancy, Janis Joplin, and assorted hangers-on). Truth be told, the whole thing was kind of a mess. But watching it felt a lot like spending a night in the hotel, and it's a ride I'm glad I took. I didn't learn a thing, but it brought me inside a place full of fascinating characters, a place I walked past countless times in Manhattan without a second thought.

My fellow jurors and I selected our short film winners yesterday, but I can not share any results until the award ceremony next weekend. You likely wouldn't know any of the titles anyway, but I can pretty much guarantee you will see the filmmakers' names again in the coming years -- some big talents in the mix. There's a party every night here, and I've been having a blast. One of my favorite past-times has been playing a game I call "Hooker/Not a Hooker." Pretty self-explanatory, basically you try to decide which gals are on the payroll, and which aren't. Here's a hint: If she's gorgeous, 22- years-old and hanging off the arm of a 400-pound dude with a combover ... she's available.

I checked out Get Smart yesterday, at an event for The Rock, excuse me, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, excuse me, Dwayne Johnson's charity. Johnson introduced the film and told the audience that "Steve Carell has very soft lips," which made a lot more sense once we watched the flick. For the most part, I agree with Eric's review. It was no masterpiece, but it was just funny and entertaining enough to have been worth the time. Steve Carell can elevate just about anything, and Alan Arkin was hilarious. Now that I've got more free time, I hope to pry myself away from the video poker (currently $45 in the red) and the pool (my skin is also "in the red") and check out some of the more indie-leaning films screening here. Abel Ferrara's Go-Go Tales screens tonight, and I don't think I can pass up that title. Right now there's yet another two-hour "happy hour" starting, so ah...talk to you later!

Somehow, I have remembered to take photos on my vice-filled journey through the CineVegas Film Festival, and while a lot of them didn't come out as I planned, you can see a couple (along with a bunch from Getty Images) in the gallery below. You'll find shots of the parties, of the fest in motion, of fire-breathers in bikinis, of naked women covered in paint (ahem, see above), of singing sensation Bijou Phillips, and even a candid shot of the world beer pong champion (I think you'll be able to figure out which one that is). Wish you were here!

I'm coming to you live from the tenth annual CineVegas Film Festival in the fabulous Palms Casino and Resort. Yes, that's the very same hotel where the Real World Vegas clan turned a hot tub into a simmering cauldron of gonorrhea. Thankfully, I'm staying in a different suite. I arrived late Friday night, was also fortunate enough to attend the now legendary Britney Spears party, and woke up yesterday with a crippling hangover.

The fest is sponsored by Grey Goose, and to quote the greatest songwriter/pants-wetter of our day, Fergie, Grey Goose got this girl feeling loose! I can't seem to turn around without being handed a cocktail. I can certainly see why Nicolas Cage had such a problem with alcohol in that movie about leaving Las Vegas ... strangely, its title escapes me right now.

Hey! It's your old friend Patrick Walsh! Remember me? I used to run a writing column here with the ingenious title "The Write Stuff?" (Check out all 25 previous posts here.) I answered your screenwriting questions, offered advice, and conducted interviews with film and television writers? I look like Brad Pitt, but with better abs? There you go. You remember. Anyhoo, when last we spoke I had been staffed on the FX comedy It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and I'm still there. It's a dream job, and I intend to share my experiences on the show with you closer to the season premiere in September. But for now I want to tell you about a great way for you (yes, you!) to break in to the big time: NBC's Writers on the Verge program.

If this seems like a shameless advertisement, know that it's only because I myself am a graduate of the program and I absolutely loved it. I am NOT doing this because I am receiving money from anyone at NBC. (Though Lord knows if NBC would like to give me some money, I will gladly accept it. You hear me, Zucker? GLADLY.)

Now then. You've got questions. I've got answers.

The Foot Fist Way premiered at Sundance in 2006. I got my hands on a copy about a year ago, and wondered why it never got a big cross-country release. I knew it was a hit among big-time comedy folk (your Stillers, your Apatows, your Oswalts), and I started to figure that maybe they just wanted to keep it to themselves. But with a big push from Will Ferrell and Adam McKay, Foot Fist has found its way into theaters. Shot independently over nineteen days for little money in North Carolina, the film is a character study about a character you'd never want to meet -- Fred Simmons.

Danny McBride plays Simmons, an unbalanced children's Tae Kwon Do instructor who goes completely off the rails when his wife (the very funny Mary Jane Bostic) cheats on him. Fred is obsessed with karate master and low-budget film star Chuck "The Truck" Wallace (Ben Best), and tries to focus his energies on bringing his hero to the school. That's about it for a plot, much of the film consists of quasi-connected short scenes and moments that feel quite a bit like sketches. A genuinely hilarious scene early on involving an elderly woman, for example, is a self-contained jewel (I actually choked on soda watching it), and would be an internet sensation if this film had never existed.

The juxtaposition of a deranged man and young children is a comedy staple going back (at least) to W.C. Fields, but since this is an indie flick, things go darker than you might expect. Simmons is not a likable man, not at all really, and McBride's resistance to give him a big heart makes him feel a lot more authentic than a lot of the "heroes" in major studio comedies today. Sometimes a dick is just a dick.

David Chase, the creator of The Sopranos -- you know, the greatest television show of all time -- has signed on to write, produce, and direct his first feature film, for Paramount Pictures. Calm down, fans of Tony and the gang -- this will not be a Sopranos flick. In fact, Deadline Hollywood Daily doesn't have much about the movie at all, other than that it's "an original drama," and that Brad Grey, Chase's Sopranos producing partner and CEO of Paramount, brought him on board. Chase says of their relationship: "Brad has always been adventurous as a producer and looked for different ways of doing things. I look forward to once again working with him, and now his team. For years, Brad has been a great partner, who helped enable me to do what I need to creatively."

Returning the love, Grey says "David is one of the great storytellers of our time, and his debut as a filmmaker is both highly anticipated and long overdue." I second that! "In truth, David has been creating cinematic-quality filmed drama for more than a decade – spanning nine seasons and 86 episodes of The Sopranos. Having worked with David as a producer, I'm delighted to be with him again and to bring his unique vision to the big screen." The Sopranos indeed delivered an hour-long movie each week, and each was better than 99% of films. I simply can not wait. And with the Sex and the City movie likely to be a big hit, here's hoping Chase can be talked into dropping that Sopranos movie on us and making my life worthwhile again.

Hell ... what if this "original drama" is the Sopranos movie and they're trying to keep it secret? There have been rumors swirling lately, and I don't stop believin'.

Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, the sequel to the modern stoner classic Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle, hit theaters last Friday. I sat down with the film's writer/directors -- Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg -- a few days after the release of their film. In the interest of journalistic integrity (and shameless name-dropping), I should tell you that the gentlemen are friends of mine, and all around great dudes.

Cinematical: How did the Hurwitz/Schlossberg magic begin?

Jon Hurwitz: Hayden and I became friends on the Randolph High School debate team and connected over a common love of comedy. We were both obsessed with the movies of the Farrelly Brothers and the Zucker Brothers. We loved Howard Stern. We thought it would be amazing if we could actually make movies one day. But it felt like it was the most unrealistic goal of all time for a couple of dudes hanging out in a basement in New Jersey. What changed everything for us was that in high school we were known for coming up with really funny "Would you rather?" scenarios. We came up with a list of 250 that we were going to try to get published.

Cinematical: What was the best one?

JH: "If you had to be sexually abused, would you rather it be by an android or a Muppet?"

Cinematical: Muppet. It's softer.

Hayden Schlossberg: Exactly. Plain and simple. It would hurt less. That is the correct answer.

Most conversations about Forgetting Sarah Marshall -- the new Judd Apatow-produced comedy about a devastating breakup -- are going to start with the penis shot. Sure, there have been willies in the movies before -- hell, there have been dongs in Apatow productions before (see Walk Hard). But a johnson this prominently featured, and in a mainstream romantic comedy? It breaks new ground. And not only is it funny, it's the perfect visual representation of what a guy goes through when he gets dumped. The film's star, Jason Segel, is stripped bare literally and figuratively -- exposed, embarrassed, emasculated. It's a comedy moment for the history books. I just wish I could say the rest of the film is as bold, as brave, as ... ballsy as that penis.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Sarah Marshall is a very funny movie. But its faults -- its sagginess, its tendency to let improvisation roll past the point of laughter, its relationships that often don't ring true -- are what separate this Judd Apatow production from a Judd Apatow film.