Poor Richard's Scorecard

Perhaps 'Shutter Island' Should Have Been Written as a Screenplay in the First Place

Shutter Island opened yesterday, and with an A-list director and an A-list star, it would seem to be in a good position for critical and commercial success. But while Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio are obvious draws and have done good work together previously, they may be hampered by their source material. I recall Dennis Lehane's novel, which I read a few years ago, as being surprisingly underwhelming. What was all the fuss about? I remember thinking.

Next, Perhaps Garry Trudeau Can Explain Where R.E.M. Went Wrong

Outland and Opus were well-intended missteps, but Bloom County remains, like Doonesbury and Calvin and Hobbes, not merely a comic strip but brilliant social commentary. I'd go so far as to call it (and them) literature. In an interview with Vice coinciding with the release of a five-volume compilation of every Bloom County strip, creator Berkeley Breathed offered several interesting insights about his work. And then there's this piece of Truth, when he was asked about his encounters with fans of Bloom County:

Say It, Phans, and Wear It: There's No Crying in Baseball

Just in time for the World Series, Vintage Blue, the Philadelphia-based clothing line of retro-themed women's sportswear, has begun selling t-shirts in the 1970s and '80s Phillies powder blue with the classic A League of Their Own line "There's No Crying In Baseball." It's available in men's and women's styles, and if you enter the code word "gophillies" at checkout, you get five bucks off.

Vintage Blue holds the exclusive license to the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, whose story was told, of course, in A League of Their Own. What makes League such a terrific baseball movie is its obvious respect for the game, regardless of who's playing it. Check out this exchange, between Hanks's Jimmy Dugan and Geena Davis's Dottie Hinson, and tell me the film doesn't get it:

Its Illustrators Get the Kudos, But, as 'Up' Shows, Pixar's Writers Are Who Set the Studio Apart

You dismiss Pixar movies as solely technological marvels at your own peril. The hit-making studio's reputation for producing commercially and critically successful films is well earned. Even more impressive than Pixar's breathtakingly accurate digital animation is its ability to deliver fully realized stories with characters whose complexity and richness should be the envy of every live-action picture churned out by Hollywood. For proof, look no further than Up, this summer's Pixar entry.

In Praise of Seeing Movies as They Were Meant to Be Seen

The Uptown Theater in Washington, D.C., is one of a dying breed. Single-screen movie houses are being killed by the multiplex, and not just in the suburbs. But there's nothing quite like seeing a film in a place like the Uptown. The screen is wide and curving, the view from the balcony commanding, the atmosphere evocative. I can't say it made Inglourious Basterds a better film, but it certainly rendered my viewing of it more pleasant. Yes, there's a lot to be said for watching a DVD while ensconced on your couch, and for the variety of showings at the local 16-screen venue. But the movie-house experience takes you back to a time when going to the movies meant you were going to be completely and utterly immersed in a new world for a couple of hours. Your troubles faded away. The only here and now was the story unspooling on the magnificent silver screen in front of you. | PRS

Someone Needs to Save Quentin Tarantino from Himself

The poster for Quentin Tarantino's new film, Inglourious Basterds, features a smirking Brad Pitt above the movie's title. It's good marketing. Sporting a tough-guy mustache, a Southern-fried accent, and barrel-chested bravado, Pitt carries the portions of the picture that he's in, and the scenes with his band of Jewish soldiers preying brutally on Nazis are fun (if occasionally disturbing) to watch.

Shot to the Heart, and Crank's to Blame

They should have left Chev Chelios to die on the asphalt.

Chelios, the hit man played by B-list stud Jason Statham, was last seen lying on the street after falling from a helicopter in 2006's improbably popular actioner Crank. As he fell Chev managed to inject himself with the antidote to the poison that had caused him to spend the movie keeping his heart rate artificially high. Mitigating that healing gesture, of course, was our hero's presumably fatal fall, but with box office returns more than doubling the film's budget, a sequel was inevitable. Too bad Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor offered us this depressingly adolescent dreck instead of the harmless, carefree, video-game mindset of their original effort.