J. Edgar and Melancholia open in more theaters today and both are causing quite a buzz among critic circles. Kirsten Dunst already snagged an award at Cannes for her portrayal of Justine in Melancholia. She’s simply a girl coping with her troubled relationship with her sister and the threat of a new mysterious planet about to crash into Earth — as we all do. J. Edgar is the story about J. Edgar Hoover. He was an unbelievably ambitious hard worker, revered founder of the FBI and had a private life. A very, very, ambiguously gay private life. It is directed by Clint Eastwood and written by Dustin Lance Black. It kind of has Oscar bait written all over it.

I had a hard time watching both movies. Mainly because I had get hunger pangs during both screenings. While watching the movies I was thinking of things like: “I wonder if that leftover Chinese food from Monday night is still good. If not, I’ll just go down to Safeway and get a couple of frozen burritos. That would make for an excellent dinner. Perhaps I could get a little fancy and get some of those Tostidos artisan chips as a side.”

These are the kinds of things I think of when watching movies that don’t have my total attention. I’m not saying the movie is terrible, they just make me hungry — like I have the munchies.

Speaking of munchies, as I was watching both movies, I asked myself: “Which one would be better to watch under the influence of mind altering drugs?” So I decided to explore that question with both:

J. Edgar: The story of J. Edgar Hoover is phenomenal and, in a weird nagging way, inspirational. However, with all Eastwood films, I feel like an old crotchety man is telling me a story while a music box is playing incessantly in the background. I am a fan of Leonardo DiCaprio (except when he did that accent in Blood Diamond). He’s great as the title role. He does what he can with this role and does a good job, but I was taken aback by Armie Hammer. He was just gay enough as J. Edgar’s maybe-maybe not lover Clyde Tolson. And of course, there’s Naomi Watts as Hoover’s lifelong secretary Helen Gandy. She’s great in everything.

In terms of the 4:20-friendliness of this movie, it would rate high on the giggle factor. I could totally envision stoners watching this movie and cracking up at the site of Clyde and Hoover arguing or the scenes when they are trying to find the Lindbergh baby. Also, seeing DiCaprio and Hammer as old men would be a total laugh fest for potheads because they look like human versions of Statler and Waldorf from The Muppets.

Melancholia: I already knew that this movie was going to go over my head because it was written and directed by Lars von Trier. Anything by him is way too conceptual for a simple-minded superficial guy like me. But let’s face it, this is known as the “topless Dunst” movies. Yes, she shows her boobies.

Nonetheless, for over two hours, I was subjected to the impending doom of Earth and Kirsten and the hobo-chic gamine Charlotte Gainsbourg dealing with their sister issues. And it felt like two hours (two hours and fifteen minutes to be exact) of what many people define as great acting.

That time would be great use for stoners — especially the uber-visually orgasmic prologue. I could totally see a pothead enamored by the painting-in-motion (and the lightning coming out of Kirsten Dunst’s fingers!). I could also see a pothead crying because of it. Plus, end of the world movies are always good for stoners because they will start over-analyzing it and/or start freaking out — which would provide for great entertainment (probably better than the actual movie). Finally, Kiefer Sutherland is in the movie. That alone will have a stoner constantly asking, “Dude, what is Jack Bauer doing in this movie? Is he going to save the world?”

Of the two, it is clear that Melancholia would give the most joy whilst high — but you don’t have to take my word for it! Watch the trailers and decide for yourself:

It’s unfortunate that Anna Faris had to be in a something like What’s Your Number?. The premise is standard “girls night out” movie fare: Ally (Faris) finds out from a reliable source (Marie Claire magazine) that if she crosses the threshold of 20 sexual partners, then she is going to never get married. With that in mind she tracks down her sexual partners in hopes that one of them is her future husband. She solicits the help of her promiscuous neighbor Colin (Chris Evans) to help her in this task. The rest of the movie is us waiting for them to get together for the standard “happily ever after” ending (Yes, that’s how the movie ends. No, I didn’t spoil it for you. If you can’t predict that ending then you obviously haven’t seen the trailer.)

The movie wasn’t all terrible — mainly because of Anna. I have an undying love for her. That said, while you are waiting for What’s Your Number? to make its way to Netflix (it will be on DVD before you know it!), watch these Anna alternatives:

Scary Movie 1, 2, 3, and 4: This is what started it all for Anna. She made the character of Cindy reach iconic status. Sure, the slasher/pop culture lampoonery got old, but it never grows tired. Plus, it shows her commitment to the franchise and absurdity.

Brokeback Mountain: As the fast-talking Southern belle, Lashawn Malone, this was Anna’s foray into Acting! (please note the capital “A” and exclamation point). She brought levity to a story of forbidden cowboy love.

The House Bunny: Sure, Anna portrays ditzy in nearly every role she plays. But no one can bring dynamic swag that as she does — and playing an exiled Playboy Bunny turned sorority girl outcast is no exception.

Lost in Translation: In one of Sofia Coppola‘s opus of isolation and lack of dialogue, Anna popped up in the movie as Kelly, an obnoxiously dense Hollywood actress. She provided her strongest assets: levity, absurdity, and ditziness. Even so, all were dialed down to meet the Sofia-esque tone — showing that she can act.

Friends: As Chandler and Monica’s surrogate mother, Erica, Anna provided something refreshing to look at amidst the droning sit-commery of the cast.

Take Me Home Tonight: The movie? Not so great. Anna? A little more mature, but still spectacular. Plus, this is the first time we see her with her equally funny hubby Chris Pratt (who is also in What’s Your Number?)

Saturday Night Live: Anna will take a second crack at hosting SNL on Oct. 15 — more than enough time to write an STD-driven sketch about What’s Your Number?

What’s Your Number? opens in theaters today.

It’s not often we see Brad Pitt portray a real person. And when I saw “real person,” I mean a REAL PERSON.

In the highly-lauded-before-it-has-even-officially-opened-in-theaters movie Moneyball (based on the book “Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game” by Michael Lewis), he portrays Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland A’s who is on a mission to reverse the misfortune of the team’s losing reputation. He’s aggressive. He’s ambitious. He takes risks. He knows how to broker. He knows baseball. He likes to wear windbreakers.

He solicits the help of Peter Brand (Jonah Hill) and with his Ivy League savvy and the use of analytical stats, they assemble a rag-tag group of undervalued, talented baseball players that cost less than a “winning team”; thus changing how players are picked in the game. Thus changing the game of baseball. Thus making for a great sports movie.

After watching Moneyball, I walked out of the theater with the following things circulating in my head:

1.) Know your self-worth. If you don’t, then find someone who knows so they can tell you.

2.) This was a sophisticated underdog story…kind of like Bad News Bears.

3.) I can’t wait to watch Jonah Hill in 21 Jump Street.

4.) I am scared of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

5.) Brad Pitt is a pretty face who can act…and I imagine he smells like sandalwood and Selsun Blue.

6.) Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zaillian wrote the adapted screenplay? I guess I have to like it.

7.) Windbreakers.

I really want to focus on point number five.

As mentioned, Brad Pitt has not played a “normal” person in a while. In fact, I can’t remember when he actually played a person and not a character. He’s been a vampire, imaginary alter ego who makes bad choices, a bareknuckle Irish fighter with a speech impediment, a hunky hitchhiker (as they all are) who uses a hair dryer as a gun, a detective who finds Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in a box, a Nazi hunter, Death, a magical man who ages backwards, a smartly dressed/kind of douchey-looking heist-master, and many, many, many others.

In Moneyball, he’s a general manager of a baseball team.

Boring, right?

Not really.

Brad Pitt is a beautiful guy that learned how to act. You see it in his steady stream of work. It seems like he exhausted all these “character” roles and woke up one day and thought, “I think I am going to play an average dude.” Because of that, the role of Billy Beane is NOT boring (in real life and in this movie). It’s probably one of his most approachable roles ever — which is why he everyone is wetting their panties over this movie.

Seeing Brad as Billy Beane brings him down from the heavens of his Goddess of goodwill wife and his United Colors of Benetton offspring. Although Beane works for the monolithic sports entity of MLB, he still has problems that normal people can relate to on a literal level: dealing with divorce, supporting a child, struggling with assholes at work, trying to make a difference, fighting “the man”, etc. You really don’t have to dig deep for meaning in this film. It’s all right there for you to see — and moviegoers like that. Take away the complicated baseball analytics and you have a man who’s trying to make change. It’s as simple as that. If you want otherwise, you can watch Brad in Tree of Life.

Moneyball brings us full circle in his career as an “average dude” and the beginning of that circle was one career-changing episode of Growing Pains.

In season three of one of the greatest ’80s sitcoms of all time, Pitt joined the Seavers in an episode titled “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?”. He played Jeff. A guy who Carol wants to boink, but can’t because she already has a boyfriend:

I firmly believe that Brad pulled inspiration from Jeff for his portrayal of Billy…the use of windbreakers is just a bonus for us.

Moneyball opens in theaters on Friday, September 23.

The not-so-anticipated Sarah Jessica Parker vehicle, I Don’t Know How She Does It based on the book by Allison Pearson is not Sex and the City 3 — although it makes for a great anthem for working moms. In this case the workaholic mom (Parker) “does something at a bank” and, inevitably (predictable spoiler alert), learns how to put family before her job as some sort of executive bank person who “does something at a bank.” That’s the long and the short of it — and like her fellow characters in the movie, I don’t know how she does it — and I am not really interested in finding out HOW she does it.

Maybe it’s because I am not a working mom or maybe it’s because I am not in the point of my life where I have kids and spouse to put second to my job. The bottom line is that this movie will have millions of working moms nodding their heads and putting their fists in the air with triumph saying, “FINALLY! There’s a movie that shows the struggle of what WE have to go through!” Like I said, I am not interested– and that’s not an attack. There are millions of women out there who juggle family, work, and self. I admire and appreciate that. It’s very commendable. In fact, I think working moms are probably one of the most valuable and amazing creatures on this planet, BUT I am so self-absorbed in my own kidless life that I am trying to juggle my own demons and trying to cure myself of the thirtysomething misery of trying to maintain some sort of dignified job, trying to decide which high-profile event to go to, chronic reminders of loneliness, sudden bouts of self-loathing, constantly worrying about what others think of me, wondering why no one is commenting on my blog/Facebook/Twitter page and finally, finding the appropriate road to fame.

Come to think of it, in a broad scope, both worlds parallel each other in more ways than one. Whether being single or partnered, the problems don’t stop. They are just on different worlds, right? (Grass. Greener. Other. Side.)

But that argument is for another self-absorbed blog post. I am here to talk about the I Don’t Know How She Does It, a movie whose premise is relevant and pedestrian but has strong market value. I mean, come on, Sarah Jessica Parker stars in it. She is one of those actors who appeal to women both young and old — thanks to Sex and the City.

Speaking of S.A.T.C., I would have liked this movie if it weren’t for the movie versions of once-beloved HBO series (the final season probably played a part in the downward spiral of the show). The movie versions were just a sloppy “P.S.” of the lives of the quartet of horny high-profile Manhattanites. It’s like having a family of relatives overstay their welcome. It’s hard to enjoy an SJP movie with those two movies burrowed inside of my head.

What made it even more difficult to dissociate S.A.T.C. from I.D.K.H.S.D.I. was the use of Parker’s voiceover — we get it. She has great voiceover talents, but if they were trying to NOT make this like S.A.T.C., then they failed miserably.

Then there was the attempt to make Parker look a little more like a convincing disheveled mom. Again, they failed. She was very tailored and dressed nicely — with an occasional untucked shirttail here and there. Although it’s not as over-the-top and fashion whorish like Carrie Bradshaw, it still has her quirky, flighty attitude.

The reason why I am focusing so much on SJP, is because the movie is ALL SJP. There was a very valiant attempt to dim the light of her celebrity star by surrounding her with talented actors who are not as “cool” as her: Greg Kinnear, Olivia Munn, Christina Hendricks, Seth Meyers, Busy Philipps, Kelsey Grammer, Pierce Brosnan, etc. etc. They offer a splash of personality and seeing them (especially Munn and Philipps) extinguished the fire of sugar shock that Parker tends to bring every time she’s on screen.

The movie succeeds, first and foremost, it stars Sarah Jessica Parker. (Her brand image alone can move mountains) The empowering “You too can balance your life!” infomercial message comes second.

Bottom line: this movie is about Carrie Bradshaw in another dimension that requires her to work and not be so annoying.

I Don’t Know How She Does It opens in theaters today.

The Debt is currently playing in theaters (read my interview with director, John Madden here) and although I love the Nazi-hunter/espionage/I Know What You Did Last Summer appeal of the movie, I am going to take it out of the running in this debate because the movie stars Helen Mirren and Jessica Chastain. That alone gives the movie a certain amount of prestige that can’t be touched — especially with two movies like Good Old Fashioned Orgy and Shark Night 3D.

Based on the cast, Good Old Fashioned Orgy has the elements of joyous laughter: Jason Sudekis, Lake Bell, Nick Kroll, Will Forte, Lucy Punch, et al. The title pretty much explains the entire movie: it’s about an orgy. More specifically, it’s about Eric (Sudekis), who has house full of memories in the Hamptons that is about to be sold. That said, he wants to have one last hurrah in the house. In a lame attempt to relive the spirit of Porky’s movies, he plans an epic orgy with his closest friends. REPEAT: HE PLANS AN EPIC ORGY WITH HIS CLOSEST FRIENDS. That itself is testimony to the quality of this film. First off, who wants to have an orgy with their closest friends? Secondly, who wants to have an orgy with their closest friends? And finally, WHAT THE HELL? Personally, I see my closest friends as brothers and sisters. So in essence, I see this as a comedic V.C. Andrews saga. It was like an SNL sketch that just overstayed its welcome. The strong cast of comedians who I admire could have made this into something good. Instead, it just made me think, “Is this normal activity for white people in the Hamptons?”

That said, there is no argument. You have no choice but to see Shark Night 3D:

It has sharks. It’s in 3D. It stars Katharine McPhee. Sure, it looks ridiculous and kitschy — but that’s what makes it awesome. The movie bills itself with such absurd brilliance and that’s exactly what it is. It’s a fun movie going experience — as opposed to Good Old Fashioned Orgy. The movie bills itself as a comedy, but one and half giggles in 95 minutes does not a comedy make.

Go see the sharks and then watch porn afterwards. That way, you’ll have the best of both worlds.

Good Old Fashioned Orgy is in limited release today and Shark Night 3D opens in theaters nationwide today.

Watching Fright Night made me come to the conclusion that this whole vampire thing is gonna go on for a while. So I am just going to give in and try to endure it — at least until Breaking Dawn Part 1 (that is guaranteed to be a colossal vampire orgy of suck that I am going to enjoy).

In any matter, Fright Night is a remake of the cultastic 1985 version starring Chris Sarandon (a.k.a. Dr. McGrath in Felicity a.k.a. Prince Humperdinck in The Princess Bride). I’ve never seen the original, but the fact that this movie went through the Hollywood Xerox machine already put me on high alert. In addition to that, it’s in 3D. It already had two strikes so it is destined to fail with flying colors.

…but that wasn’t the case at all.

The movie stars Colin Farrell as Jerry. A vampire on the DL who lives next door to Charley (Anton Yelchin) and his mom Jane (Toni Collette) in suburban Las Vegas. Charley, through the hysterical rants of his Comic Con-friendly/vampire-obsessed ex-BFF Ed (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) finds out about Jerry’s blood-sucking secret. He writes off Ed’s accusations but then starts to notice vampire things about Jerry. People go into his house and never come out. He never goes out in the day time. His windows are blacked out. People are mysteriously disappearing. Then he sneaks into his house and sees him suck the life out of someone — so that pretty much brings truth to his suspicions. Charley tries to get help but people just scoff at him and tell him he’s crazy — even the Criss Angel-esque, faux vampire-killer showman, Peter Vincent (David Tennant) won’t help him. In the end, he has to take matters into his own hands.

According to some O.G. Fright Night fans, the movie keeps in line with the original without tarnishing its nostalgic sheen. It’s tone is spot on, the scenes pay a non-bastardizing homage, and there’s even a special cameo that will make diehard fans eyes brighten. Even so, the movie keeps its own modern integrity — and I think it’s because they didn’t cast a pop princess or a dreamy heartthrob in the lead roles. Instead, the movie keeps it at the cool kids table with Anton, Toni, Colin, Red Mist/McLovin, the other Franco (that would Dan), and a love interest by the name of Imogen Poots, whose name alone is cooler than that of any Urban Outfiiters employee.

Fright Night may be a vampire movie and it is a rehashed story, but it’s a decent story that balances humor, terror, action, and thrills very well. It echoes the rag-tag monster-hunting fun of movies like The Lost Boys and The Monster Squad where a bunch of misfits take matters in their own hands and kill the bad guys with a wisecrack wedged in between each bloody splatter.

This weekend you’re going to be faced with a decision: watch Conan the Barbarian or Fright night. Both are in 3D. Both are remakes. I didn’t watch Conan, but word on the street is that it sucks bad. Really bad. Watch Fright Night and save yourself from the 3D disaster of Jason Momoa’s abnormally tit-like pecs because Fright Night sucks good. Real good.

Fright Night opens in theaters today.

I don’t know where to begin with Bellflower. I don’t even know how to summarize it.

When talking about it with one of my fellow movie writers, he said, “I think it’s one of those genre films.”

What genre is it? I’m not too sure, but my guess is that it might fall in that “I’m not that cool of a cinephile to understand” genre.

Here’s what I gathered from the movie:

1.) There are two best friends Aiden (Tyler Dawson) and Woodrow (Evan Glodell — he’s also the director) who like to build stuff.

2.) Woodrow has a summer fling with Milly (Jessie Wiseman).

3.) The whole movie has a trashy/skanky tone.

4.) The movie looks like it smells like fried bologna on a skanky summer day.

5.) There’s sex scenes.

6.) Woodrow an Aiden like to make stuff. The movie mostly focuses on them making a flame thrower and a Mad Max-esque super-muscle car by the name of Medusa.

7.) There’s boobs.

8.) It reminded me of Kids but with a lot more blood.

9.) There’s a cricket eating contest.

10.) It looks very indie.

All of this gets intertwined and it’s supposed to create a narrative about relationships, morality, brotherhood, romance, love, heartache, and creating machines with childlike wonder. The director is probably making a profound statement that we are all supposed to respect — and I am sure if he blatantly told me in the movie, I would appreciate it. And I am sure if I think long and hard about it, I can come up with my own philosophy about everything that happened on the screen of this story told through a “Hipstamtic” lens — but I don’t care enough to go through the trouble to do so.

Ultimately, the movie is an absurd acid trip. It takes you on a psychotic roller coaster ride full of infidelity, drugs, drama, hardcore partying, vomiting, cars with whiskey dispensers, and a bunch of other obnoxiously random things that made me ask, “Do any of these people have jobs?”

Bellflower opens in theaters August 19.

It’s been a couple of days since I have seen Rise of the Planet of the Apes and I would like to share a couple of tweets/Facebook status updates/Google+ updates that I posted in regards to the movie:

If there was an Oscar for the Best Simian Swagger, it would go to Caesar in Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

…also, Tom Felton should get something for best doppelganger Devon Sawa circa 1995. #expelliarmus

If the apes in Rise of the Planet of the Apes really invaded SF, would they acclimate by wearing North Face and riding fixed gear bikes?

I also posted this video:

My reaction?

I really want my own motion capture suit.

In regards to the movie, I am not really familiar with the O.G. franchise starring Charlton Heston and laden with retro special effects. I do know that the 1968 film spawned an avalanche of sequels which, according to Ape aficionados (or shall I call them ape-ficionados?), were far inferior. Then there was Tim Burton‘s take on it in 2001 with Mark Wahlberg which received a less-than-stellar ovation.

One ape-ficionado told me that Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a totally different creature from the ones before it. Some people might even consider it a prequel. I just considered it a movie about apes using the technology from Avatar starring James Franco and the hot girl from Slumdog Millionaire (that would be the gorgeous Frieda Pinto).

In it, Franco is a genetic engineer who is tinkering with stuff in his lab and ends up with what seems to be a hyper-potent formula that can help with his dad’s (John Lithgow) Alzheimer’s disease. Before that, it causes a rapid development in intelligence for apes — and that’s where the problems begin.

Under the radar, he takes one of the chimpanzees home and raises it like his child (kind of like Project Nim). The chimp’s name is Caesar (Andy Serkis) and, as expected, he develops at a faster rate than a paste-eating kindergartener.

Eventually, he gets busted for harboring a non-domesticated animal and Caesar gets hauled off to a primate prison ran by an unconcerned father-son team (Brian Cox and Tom Felton). While there, he realizes that he is with his brethren and begins to realize, “I am a badass muthafucka that can lead these fools to freedom.”

So he does.

I am sure this installment of the beloved culty franchise has some sort of metaphor engrained in its story. It could be racism, animal cruelty, imperialism, social class issues — there’s something in there that my pseudo-intellectual competence can tackle, but there are bigger issues at hand. My primary concerns were mentioned in my tweets above: the setting of San Francisco, a Hogwart’s graduate working at a primate sanctuary, and the amazing motion capture performance by Serkis and his fellow apes — the latter being the most brilliant draw of the movie.

Serkis (who is best known as Gollum in Lord of the Rings) eclipses all the other actors in this movie — and he is not really real. He’s half animation, half human. He’s a humanimation. Still, I miss the “realness” of the make-up from the past films — even in Burton’s version. That kind of costuming and makeup adds a hokey soul to the franchise. It’s like comparing a Kindle with a hardcover book with tangible pages. One is really cool and modern, but there’s a sense of nostalgia with the other that cannot be replaced — but damn — that motion capture animation stuff will make this worthy of a pothead’s Blu-ray library.

In terms of summer movie fare, the movie exceeds expectations. It’s a very contemporary, culturally relevant “what if” story that involves genetic engineering, the consequences of disrupting certain things in nature, and overstepping boundaries. I mean, who doesn’t love a good sci-fi thriller involving cures and epidemics? It will probably happen one day, RIGHT? Until we reach the day when apes and humans can live harmoniously, we will just have to settle for living separate but not really equal lives.

Ultimately, the movie echoes the pleasant prison storyline of Shawshank Redemption. Stepping in as Andy Dufresne is Caesar. He’s innocent, has been treated unfairly, and is too clever to be contained so he breaks out. Caesar has a chill orangutan homeboy by the name of Maurice who would obviously be Red. They all break out of their prison and find redemption (hence the comparison). You actually cheer for the apes. You want them to be released from the grasp of the evil humans so they can swing free in the redwoods and adapt to San Francisco Bay Area culture by wearing North Face puffy jackets while shopping at local farmer’s markets and using reusable grocery bags.

That said, go see the movie. It’s entertaining…and it’s not in 3D.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes opens in theaters today.

I wasn’t a fan of The Change-Up — but that doesn’t mean it was the worst movie of the year. It doesn’t even come close. It was, at most, mediocre raunchy fun with gags that get old before they escape the lips (or bowels) of the normally funny cast.

The Change-Up gives an adult makeover to the body swapping movie genre that include such classics as Freaky Friday (both versions), Vice Versa, and my personal favorite, Like Father, Like Son, the Dudley Moore/Kirk Cameron vehicle that launched Mike Seaver’s career from teen heartthrob to attempted movie star.

For this particular story, Mitch (Ryan Reynolds) is a single, directionless bachelor actor and his BFF Dave (Jason Bateman) is a devoted family man and hard-working lawyer. One night, they take a piss in a magical fountain that causes them to switch lives to see how life is like on the other side.

Lots of gross-out moments ensue including Dave’s wife (Leslie Mann) taking a massive dump and a “lorno” (light porno) scene involving Mitch and a couple of low-budget actors that look like backwoods Wal-Mart employees. The “moral” of the story follows the formula of the movies before it, but it has an R rating (hence the dump and lorno talk).

In a recent interview I saw on The View, Bateman and Reynolds explain how there are a lot of body swapping movies, but none done like this. Apparently, it’s supposed to be less Disney-fied and more honest in terms of what you would do if you inhabited someone else’s body for a day or two — such as exploring other sexual options (Dave via Mitch’s relationship with Olivia Wilde‘s character Sabrina) and finding out that your best friend has an odd number of testicles (Mitch via Dave).

Like the ones before it, The Change-Up is supposed to make us appreciate the lives and bodies we have and it also plays with the “the grass is greener on the other side” philosophy. The latter is probably more relevant for thirtysomethings who hate being an adult and trying to figure out what the hell they are doing with their lives.

Let’s look at this from a logical perspective: Mitch wants to get out of his rut as a non-working actor who has no idea where his life is headed. He looks at Dave’s life with envy. Although Mitch has freedom and is crass, inappropriate and void of human decency, he yearns for the wife, kids, the house, the stable job — he yearns to be what society likes to refer to as an “adult.” If you are single and slutting around, then you probably fall into the “Mitch” category (no judgment). You look at your friends who are married, engaged or coupled and think, “I want that,” but you are afraid to admit it — so you make it a point to passively put your singlehood life on display: you showcase how you are not tied to anyone, you eat takeout every night and enjoy the occasional STD scare every now and then.

For those of you who are a “Dave,” you probably meet the aforementioned relationship status requirements of a “partnered” individual. You answer to someone. You are “happy” with a special someone. You are a “we.” Some Daves might even have a kid or two and live in a nice suburban house and everything is settled and rooted — perhaps TOO rooted — but you feel safe. And that safety is comforting. Daves are kind of like happy automatons that enjoy having a set schedule, going to the grocery store, having nightly dinners with families, attending ballet recitals, but like their Mitch counterpart — they reminisce about the drunken days of promiscuity and an uncertain career path. Daves also like to passively point out their suburban accomplishments to compensate for their droning lives.

Once a Mitch becomes a Dave and a Dave becomes a Mitch, the “grass is greener” philosophy becomes more apparent causing two forces quietly competing against each other to see whose life sucks more — and that’s exactly what The Change-Up is all about it: illustrating the Daves and Mitches of the world with a backdrop of pregnant lady sex, masturbation jokes and poor parenting.

Bottom line is whether your a single playboy or a happily married man, your life is going to suck so you might as well appreciate the suckage while it lasts. If you want to change it that bad, then take a piss in a magical fountain with your Dave (or Mitch) to make you appreciate the suckage that truly belongs to you.

The Change-Up opens in theaters today.

After watching The Devil’s Double, I wondered, “What if an actually Iraqi actor was cast in the dual role of Latif Yahia/Uday Hussein?” Then I wondered, “What if they cast Zac Efron in that role?”

Casting Englishman Dominic Cooper in the role of Uday Hussein, sadistic son of Saddam Hussein and his body double Latif Yahia brings me back to seeing Sir Ben Kingsley as Mahatma Gandhi — but at least Kingsley looked the part. With Cooper, he needed a little bit more than a shoddy accent and a porno mustache to achieve the full look of two real-life people who had a destructive good twin/bad twin relationship — he needed a little bit more gestation time in the Hollywood uterus.

The movie follows the abusive, violent, and unbearable escapades of Uday and Latif during the first Gulf War. Uday is a crazy-ass mofo and his dad isn’t too fond of him. He’s like the screw-up son who parties, wears expensive clothes, does coke and recreationally picks up women off the street and then abuses them. He’s a real winner, don’t you think? Instead of doing the “Hollywood” thing and trying to prove himself to his dad, he hires Latif, a dude he knew from childhood, to be his body double to do the things he doesn’t want to do — the socially responsible stuff. The movie, based on real people and stories takes us behind the scenes of the “life of political decoys” and it should be a great “HOW’D THEY DO THAT?!” story, but ends up being a gratuitous, explicit and over-the-top.

Cooper is a great and attractive young actor — which is one of the main problems with this film. After every great scene he did, I giggled like a doofus and said, “He’s Tony Stark’s dad!” or “He was in the horrendous movie adaptation of Mamma Mia!” — and that’s a damn shame. He didn’t, as they say, “inhabit” the role. He was just “playing” the role of this psychopath who makes everyone take off their clothes at a party and dance with their tittyballs and schlongs hanging out — he’s not really “being.” He is certainly no Ralph Fiennes as Lord Voldemort. Then again, who can achieve that kind of brilliance?!

To Cooper’s credit, he did what he could in tackling such challenging and demanding roles. It’s like The Patty Duke Show on meth. It’s too bad he acted so much that you could tell he was wearing his “I AM A SERIOUS ACTOR” mask with his dapper Scarface-worthy outfits.

My harsh critique on Cooper may be the result of me not being able to wrap my head around the casting of the role. Why not just cast an Iraqi? Do they think we won’t notice? Perhaps the Hollywood casting machine thinks that culturally blind casting will be like Gwyneth Paltrow in a role that calls for an English accent. If they do it enough, the actor will eventually THINK he/she is the ethnicity they were cast in. It’s kind of like reverse method acting: taking what they do on screen and applying it to real life. So does this mean Cooper will become an Iraqi? (Consider that the end of my soapbox tirade.)

Nonetheless, Cooper is the core of the movie and, unfortunately there isn’t enough traction in portraying Uday and Latif. It’s distracting and makes the entire movie go off track. The two become caricatures (moreso Uday — unless he was REALLY that psycho) rather than real people in a significant time in history.

The Devil’s Double opens in theaters August 5.