Get Smart, Mike Meyers.

This Monday evening, as my family was walking up Columbus, my father saw an ad for The Love Guru and emphatically announced, “Mike Meyers is FINISHED!!!” I stopped myself from reminding him of the cash cow-ogre Shrek, among many other lucrative Meyers franchises. I did realize, however, that I hadn’t given a second thought to seeing The Love Guru this weekend—even with my beloved JT as a co-star. The fact is, I have moved on from Mike Meyers' caricatures to fully embrace the new comic era: deadpan humor as brought you by Steve Carell and/or Will Ferrell. The similarities between their humor and their names make me feel like they’re one and the same. Or, at the very least, they’re from the same planet, Planet I-Can-Keep-A-Straight-Face-No-Matter-What.

Get Smart tests Carell’s deadpan comic timing once again. Although, I suspect that it was much harder for his fellow cast-mates to keep it together. Perhaps this is why Anne Hathaway comes off as completely bland—she had to dull her senses in order to get through each take. The Rock aka Dwayne Johnson does well enough, though his screen time is minimal.

It seems ironic that a different spoof of the spy movie genre defeated Mike Meyers, who successfully roasted the same genre with Austin Powers. Though, as far as spy movies go, this is the post-Jason Bourne box office world, where Austin and Dr. Evil don't have a place anymore. They're just TOO silly. It's not that Carell doesn't deliver frivolous scenes (think the barf scene). It's just that his deadpan delivery makes the audience take him more seriously. Meyers, on the other hand, always has that twinkle in his eye--as if he knows he's hoodwinked the audience and conned millions from us. After seeing Carell and Ferrell’s technique, I don’t know that I can handle Meyers’ heavy handed comedies with outrageous accents and costumes. I don’t want to see Meyers in another wig—unless it’s the wig for Wayne Campbell.

Now, similarly to the way I once adored Meyers, I cannot get enough of Ferrell and Carell’s comic franchise. Perhaps there will be a day when someone new will rip the rug out from Carell and Ferrell. Though, until then, my life is based around their movie releases. Stay tuned for my review of Step Brothers, which will be Ferrell’s next take on the deadpan middle-aged child.

Meh and the City

Halfway through the new Sex and the City movie, I had to wonder: had I gotten sick of Carrie Bradshaw? Or was I just sick of her “wondering”? Was my nausea based on having spent three hours at the DMV earlier that day, or was it some sort of reaction to the bombardment of brand names?

In all seriousness, I walked out of the theater with a sense of disappointment. The funny thing is, I think every Sex fan was happy to support Carrie when she was with or without Big. Yet, during this film, I just hated how once again, the cornerstone of the plot was based around Big leaving Carrie. AGAIN. Sex and the City shouldn’t feel like a broken record. The tagline of the film is “Get Carried away.” How about “Get trampled on for the 23094823049 time.” I think I would’ve been far happier had they left the series the way it ended: Carrie and Big simply together but not necessarily on the road to marriage. Big told Carrie she’s the one. That should be enough!

Okay okay, so my friends who enjoyed it claim that that the movie is about friendship and not giving up on love. In the abstract, I can agree with those two mottos. I just think that the movie didn’t really successfully convey them. I found myself feeling—for the first time in the entire Sex and the City reign—that Carrie had settled. Sure she has clothes, friends, and an indentured servant—I mean personal assistant--but she can’t seem to see the Big picture. (Crap, now Carrie is making me throw puns left and right!) When does a woman’s pride step in? Big essentially practices emotional domestic violence throughout their relationship, which seemed to stop at the series finale. The movie just awakens the beast again.

The movie also makes men appear to be complete jerks. Or at least the movie makes a point to focus on Big and Steve, the offenders, rather than Harry and Jared, who are loyal and loving. I suppose happiness is boring though, so why not focus on the men who can’t commit?

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy to see the girls together again. My heart swelled to see them sauntering down the streets of New York in pointy shoes and completely ridiculous outfits. But the movie added things that were unnecessary, like the Merecedes Benz and Louis Vuitton product placements. It also took away from the heart and sole (crap another Carrie shoe pun!) of the series, like when the writers literally removed anything off-color but substituting “coloring” for “sex” in one what would otherwise be a wonderful girl talk session.

I think the movie should have ended after the New Year’s even scene. I loved the sight of Carrie coming out of the subway—which she probably hadn’t ridden since 1978—in an outrageous fur coat over her pajamas and wearing stilettos in the snow. Now THAT was Carrie Bradshaw. I want to remember Carrie like that—standing on a street corner getting her bearings in an outfit that I admire but would never wear, enroute to see one of her dear friends. Instead, we are led to believe that women are nothing without their men. And don't even throw in the argument that Samantha is without a man at the end. She's a freak of nature, albeit an awesome freak of nature. So she doesn't count. Perhaps if I had walked out when Carrie arrived at Miranda's on New Year's Eve I wouldn’t be left wondering: where did the movie go wrong?

Well played, Coldplay

The new album Viva la Vida or Death and All of His Friends makes die hard Coldplay fans like myself truly proud. Two summers ago, when Coldplay's X&Y came out, I embraced the CD with lovingly open arms. In hindsight, X&Y did not exactly change the face of music—though “Fix You” may be one of the best driving songs to have graced airwaves in the last 3 years. Who doesn’t love throwing open the windows and screaming the lyrics, “Tears streammmm down youuuur faaace!”? I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t at least secretly dig that song.

After listening to Coldplay’s latest album, Viva la Vida or Death and All of his Friends, I fully realize how weak X&Y was. I will not, however, dwell on the negative. My point is that their new album proves that Coldplay can and will evolve. Right when I finished listening the entirety of Viva, I found myself almost choked up—and it wasn’t just due to Chris Martin’s angelic falsetto. No, it was more the fact that this CD reflects the promise of their early Radiohead-esque B side tracks. Yet, this promise is also blended with the energy and experience of having already released 3 albums. “Yes” takes us away from Martin’s formulaic mournful vocals. “Strawberry Swing” brings in almost a country sound that males me want to move to the country and eat me a lot of peaches. I find myself clapping along within he first few drum beats of “Lost!”

The CD is an evolution also because each song starts, grows, and changes into something completely different before the final chords. Just when you think the band has wooed you into a suicidal state in “42,” the song turns around 180 degrees and fills you with hope and near euphoria with the realization that though we didn’t get to heaven, but at very least we were within arms reach. Though, I worry that when Madonna, Gwenyth and Chris Martin had apple martinis at some point this last year, Madonna and Chris exchanged notes on getting close to heaven. Does anyone else think of the line from Madonna’s “4 Minutes”? “The road to hell is paved with good intentions—yeah!” Do you think they played rock, paper, scissors to determine who could use “heaven”?

Most important, the CD opens with an instrumental track. This proves—quite literally—that Coldplay does not need to rely on Martin to carry their tune. I cannot wait to see how the new songs sound live. I imagine the different movements to the tracks will lend themselves to some great solos, sprinkled with some classic Chris Martin self-deprecating humor in between songs. With Viva la Vida or Death and All of His Friends, Coldplay will not only seduce many new fans, but they will also restore the faith of any fans whose skepticism grew with X&Y. Viva fills me with parent-like pride for the band, who have come so far since they seduced me in a mere two sentences: “Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you.”