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Schill may never wear the Red Sox again after this season, and an absent Manny wants to attend a car auction-in New Jersey.
A week into spring training and the never-ending circus that is the Boston Red Sox is already in awe-inspiring, Big Top form.
America's favorite (or most despised, depending where you're from) hardball soap opera added a few new chapters Friday down in sunny Fort Myers with no fewer than two major stories unfolding on an otherwise tranquil late February afternoon:
-Curt Schilling demanded, and was refused, a contract extension for 2008
-Manny Ramirez, who is not scheduled to report until March 1st, will not make a previously scheduled appearance Saturday at car auction in New Jersey.
As Dan Shaughnessy so aptly stated in his scathing Schilling article today, "covering this team is like doing layup drills on an 8-foot rim."
First the deal with Schill. After dropping hints for the better part of a year that 2007 would
most likely be his swan song, what does the man who never met a microphone he didn't like do promptly upon arriving at camp? Announced to the world (and his bosses) via his radio program that he did in fact intend to suit up next season and he was going to need a new contract in order to do so, pronto.
To which Red Sox brass replied "huh, what? You're doing what and you need what?"
Theo the Gorilla had this to say about Schilling's demand: "Curt's going to be 41 and at that age we get a little more conservative. There's a bit of a sliding scale based on age," Epstein said. "The deeper you go into your career, I think the more hesitant the club might be to guarantee salaries years in advance."
Translated: "Although Curt nearly gave his right foot for this club, at his age we cannot advocate giving him a truckload of money due to the fact that said surgically-repaired foot may eventually detach from his leg, prohibiting any chance of a decent R.O.I. from any future deal."
Look, I'm not saying Congressman Curt should have taken his contract situation to the pulpy pulpit of sports talk radio, but I do know that as much as this guy has done for this club (namely back up his guarantee to bring a title to Boston) he deserves any final contract he wants, decreasing contributions and declining health be damned. Much like Patriot legend Adam Vinateri should never have been allowed to leave New England, Schilling should end his career in Boston.
As for the latest in the ongoing Univison variety show known as MannyBeingManny, the 
delinquent Dominican is still "helping his mother recover from her recent surgery" and unable to make it to FM until next week. Yet he was scheduled to appear at a car auction in New Jersey that is featuring a car of his that was customised for him by famous car crafter Troy Trepanier of Rad Rides by Troy.
Word quickly spread that ManRam was definitely set to appear at the show, along with other celebs like Reggie Jackson, Saturday at noon in Atlantic City; needless to say coming on the heels of the whole "Manny quit on the team" fiasco of last September" the "I'm unable to make it to camp yet I can travel to Jersey to make some extra bank off an appearance fee and a car sale" story went over like a lead balloon in the organization.
So Manny finally begged out of the appearance, yet still stands to make a tidy profit off the sale of the car. Which brings this story to a humorous conclusion. In researching the importance of this car to Manny I came across this Globe article from August 2004. It is meant to show that despite the chaotic life Manny leads, he still made time to travel to rural Illinois to pick out the color for the soon-to-be-painted '67 Lincoln Continental convertible he planned on giving to his father as a birthday present.
Obviously confident with the importance of the car to Ramirez as well as his creations' important place in the grand scheme of things, Trepanier offers up this little nugget regarding Ramirez and the metal masterpiece he was creating for him:
"This is a car you're going to keep for the rest of your life. You're not going to sell it. It is a big project. It is a car you're going to rebuild, new engine, new interior, brakes, suspension. You've got to be patient. I think he's going to love it."
Rad Troy was completely oblivious that he was in Manny Land.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Sox spring in full swing: plenty of insanity at 11:00
Corey Dillon is done winning Super Bowls
Disgruntled. Tired. Banged-up. Conflicted.But camera-shy Corey sounds perfectly clear regarding one aspect of his career- he's done carrying the rock for the New England Patriots after 3 seasons, 3,180 yards, 39 touchdowns and 1 large diamond-studded ring.
record 1,635 yards in the 2004 regular season after being released from his own personal purgatory with the Cincinnati Bengals. But it's no secret that the press-hating Dillon seethed over his decline in carries (from 345 to 209 to 199 last year) as well as the emergence of rookie Lawrence Maroney in 2006, forcing Dillon into becoming almost a situational back, primarily a short yardage & goal line specialist.Combine the attractiveness of Maroney's age (22), productivity (722 yards) and contract (rookies don't make much) with Dillon's aging legs, declining numbers and bloated salary (he is owed $4.4 million for 2007, part of a 5-year extension he signed in 2005) and Dillon knew the handwriting was on the wall for him to be used even less than Chucky used the A-Train the last few years.
But instead of hanging around with a model franchise as an important part of a team that has a chance to make the Super Bowl every year he wants another shot at starting glory despite the fact that he is about 4 years past his prime and is a locker room cancer waiting to happen on a less-disciplined team. So he asked out of his contract, which the cash-thrifty Pats happily obliged, and although he dropped some hints about wanting to spend more time with his family and such, if a better deal (i.e. being a featured back) comes around then Corey will suit up for an 11th season.
Thanks for everything, Corey. Don't let the reality check hit you in the ass on the way out.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Basketball great Dennis Johnson is dead
Former Boston Celtics guard Dennis Johnson passed away this evening after conducting a practice for his D-League basketball club in Austin, Texas. He was 52.
All reports state that Johnson seemed fine during and immediately after the practice. But while he was standing outside the team's facilities joking over a parking ticket with a team employee he collapsed and never regained consciousness. He was pronounced dead a short time later.
calming influence on those dynastic teams of the '80s. Bird was The Man, McHale was the Second Banana, Chief was smokin' his peace pipes and Ainge was like a pre-neutered pit bull. But DJ was like the cool uncle of the group, always guiding the team with a firm hand, dishing the rock at the appropriate times to the proper superstar or hitting a huge money shot/clamping down on the opponents' hottest hand when necessary. As a fan you just felt more comfortable with DJ on the court, a true mark of a great player.In the ensuing years age, malaise and tragedy would combine to derail the Green Machine. Playoff one-&-done appearances became the norm, a coaching carousel produced no "next Auerbach', Bird retired before the '92-'93 season and then beloved guard Reggie Lewis died suddenly in 1993. This season started with the death of the architect, Red Auerbach, and has seen the team lose a franchise-record 18 consecutive games en route to another possible #1 draft pick.
But Celtics fans will always have the great memories, and when it comes to that category DJ was responsible for more than his fare share, including one of the greatest memories of all time.
RIP, DJ. You will be missed, but you will not be forgotten.
Oscar Nominee Review: The Departed
The Departed
Rated: R for graphic violence & language
Starring: Jack Nicholson, Matt Damon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Wahlberg, Alec Baldwin, Vera Farmiga,
Directed By: Martin Scorsese
Run time: 1 hr, 51 mins
Nominated for:
-Best Picture
-Best Director
-Best Supposting Actor (Wahlberg)
-Best Adapted Screenplay
-Achievement in Editing
Martin Scorsese takes a respected Asian thriller and turns it into an American crime classic
This is the year. Mark it down, book it, put it in the bank, count on it, 100% guaranteed. Scorsese will win his elusive first Oscar this Sunday for his work on this epic restyling of the Chinese cult classic Infernal Affairs.
How do I know this to be fact?
What better way to reward a director who not only coaxed an Academy Award-nominated performance from the man formerly known as Marky Mark but also elicited Oscar-caliber work from no less than four other members of his A-list cast? If Marty doesn't take home the golden statue for this effort then you can be sure he never will. He may even stop trying.
Scorsese and screenwriter William Monihan took the 2002 Hong Kong crime thriller and transported it to modern day Boston, utilizing the same storyline- moles inside both the police department and the mob- to craft a mesmerizing tale of loyalty, deceit and big city police politics that intertwines Hollywood fiction with urban crime lore.
The story centers around two young Massachusetts police officers: one an up-and-coming detective named Colin Sullivan (Damon) and the other a smart street kid named Billy Costigan (DiCaprio.) Both will end up being central figures in an investigation targeting Irish crime boss Frank Costello (Nicholson), but for very different reasons. Before I go any further I must say that Scorsese nailed it on the names; EVERYBODY in Beantown grows up knowing at least three Sullys and one Costigan, as well as a Fitzy, a Costello and five Murphs.
As Sullivan rises up the ranks he becomes the department's eyes and ears for their intense investigation of Costello, a legendary figure who rules the South Boston area with the looks of a grandfather and the ruthlessness of a Colombian cocaine baron. The Feds and local authorities can never nail him on the myriad charges they suspect him of, mainly because he always seems to be one step ahead of the law, and for good reason- Sullivan has been a confidante of the old man since 'back in the day', when Costello took care of little Colin and his mom after his father died.
Meanwhile Costigan has been targeted by the department's undercover unit and is approached, not so gracefully, by Captain Queenan (Martin Sheen) and Detective Dignan (Wahlberg), who go out of their way to persuade the wayward Costigan to turn into an undercover agent and infiltrate Costello's inner circle.
Queenan: "Five years from now you could be anything else in the world, but you will not be a Mass Sate Trooper."
Dignan: "You got a 1400 on your SAT; you're an astronaut, not a Statie."
In what could be considered an homage to the Godfather, they made him an offer he couldn't refuse: go undercover and bring down Costello or have his name erased from police records and booted out of the department forever.
Thus begins Costigan's new life as a delinquent local thug, complete with an arranged rap sheet, fresh jail term and just enough inside connections to get him in contact with the big man himself. Once a level of loyalty is established between Billy, Frank and Costello's right hand man, Mr. French (Ray Winstone, Sexy Beast) Billy becomes privy to a lot of the unseemly practices Costello has his hands in, namely extortion, murder and selling weapons-grade computer microprocessors to Chinese gangsters. The problem is, every time he tries to set up Costello and his gang for a bust "someone" on the inside of the department tips them off, and the game of cat & mouse between the government & the hoods continues with no end in sight.
It's in these scenes in the middle of the film, as Billy tries to stay one step ahead of Frank while Colin tries to keep Costello abreast of every upcoming raid that Scorsese's magic is realized. The story lines and characters co mingle and swirl around each other in such a way that you can't tell the good guys from the bad guys and vise versa. Any cop could turn out to be on the take and any criminal could turn out to be an undercover agent, and the dialogue and acting accurately depicts the incestuous relationships cops and criminals enjoyed in the hey day of the Mob in Boston. Up is down, down is up, good is bad- it all comes together to form a tangled web of duplicity.
Even the lone female in the film, Vera Farmiga's psychiatrist Madolyn, is playing both ends against the middle; she is shacking up with Colin in his tony condo overlooking the State House while seeing, professionally & otherwise, Billy. This aspect of their parallel relationships reminded me of the Michael Mann classic "Heat", where DiNiro's & Pacino's lives were always running parallel to each others and the viewer kept waiting for their paths to cross. And when they do, let's just say the sparks fly.
From this point on describing the film in further detail would spoil way too many things, and if there's one thing I'm not it's a spoiler. The cops learn they have a rat on the inside while Costigan frantically tries to escape his life in crime's inner circle before Costello wipes him off the face of the planet. It becomes a race to see which man discovers who the other is first, and the body count really rises towards the end as the nooses stars to tighten around everyone's collars. The last ten minutes of this film are filled with more "oh my god, did I just see that?" moments than a month's worth of American Karaoke auditions.
To quote my wife's reaction: "I think I'm gonna be sick."
After being snubbed five previous times in his quest for Oscar glory Martin Scorsese has come out guns blazing (no pun intended) with this first-rate adaptation of an already well-respected film. Easily his best work since "Casino" in 1995, the diminutive director did what many directors before him have failed to do: elicit career-best work from nearly every member of an all-star ensemble cast.
Many have debated/raged over why more of the actors weren't nominated, and with good reason. Nicholson gives a nuanced performance that truly carries the film. His fearless, foul-mouthed Frank is the emotional center of the movie, a fascinating ball of pensive planning and bloody execution whom the entire cast revolves like moons around a planet. Based on real life Boston underworld figure Whitey Bulger, Nicholson carries himself like the legendary Southie gangster, which makes him all the more creepy in the role.
Damon and DiCaprio both give the performances of their careers. Gone are the timid, unsure choir boys of their earlier roles replaced by slick, confident and cunning adults who think they control their own destinies until they realize it's too late. Wahlberg, the other Boston native along with Damon, makes the most of his small-but-vital role thanks to hilariously profane comments and an unexpected final appearance. Even the lesser characters played by Winstone, Sheen, and Baldwin (has he done anything bad in the last 5 years?) brought weight to the proceedings, although I must confess I was less-than-thrilled with Farmiga's performance.
But like I said to the wife, what can they do when nearly every member of the cast could have been nominated? The academy can't pick everyone (now I sound like an Oscar apologist.) Still, Nicholson should have and Damon or DiCaprio could have easliy have landed noms for their work.
Perhaps being from Boston made this movie a little more special to me. The scenes of Back Bay, the Fens and the State House combined with the (surprisingly decent) accents and Mass-related terminology (triple deckers, Rte 128, L Street and the Southie projects- a place I have frequented too many times for my liking) made me fell like I was back home again for a couple of hours. That and the constant swearing, senseless fighting, backstabbing and utter hypocrisy of the government and police forces all made me pine for the days of hitting Kelly's Roast Beef on Revere Beach while cruising around waiting for the next melee to break out.
Ah the good old days growing up in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
And all it took was a little Italian director from the New York telling a tale about an Irish mobster from Boston based on a story from a Hong Kong screenwriter to bring me back.
Enjoy your statue, Marty. You deserve it.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Changes
In case some of my less-observant readers haven't noticed I have changed my format (again.)
Please bear with me as I attempt to find the proper template that suits my style.
As soon as I find a style then I will settle on a look.
Thank you for your patience and cooperation, and once again any input/feedback is always welcome.
As long as it's positive.
TampaBayBostonian
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Athlete Police Blotter
The sports ticker has been flooded today with stories involving athletes in various stages of legal trouble. Therefore, due to my contractual obligation to report on all the scummy goings on with our sports icons, I bring you the latest installment of...
Law & Order: Special Athletic Division
-The Super Bowl may have ended weeks ago but MVP candidate Dominic Rhodes evidently is not done partying. Rhodes joined the Athlete DUI Club when Indy Staties pulled him over for driving 81 in a 55-mph zone. At 3 am. In a Dodge truck. Oh yeah, he's a free agent as of Feb 28th. He attempted to use the excuse "I'm going to Disney World" but the cops didn't buy it.
-Speaking of the club DUI Hall of Famer Koren Robinson has been ordered to spend 90 days in jail as a result of his latest arrest for evading police last August. The oft-troubled Packers wide receiver has been arrested so many times over the past 6 years that there are rumors he might replace Tweener on Prison Break.
-Speaking of trouble-prone NFL players Pac Man Jones finds himself at the center of another legal controversy, and this one is a doozy. He and members of his posse are being questioned in a shooting incident at a post- NBA All Star game party at Vegas strip club Minxx. Stories are pouring in speculating about what happened, such as free-flowing cash from rapper Nelly caused an all-out riot, but let's not jump to conclusions just yet. Let's all assume Jones is guilty before letting him off on this one.
-Gonzaga star Josh Heytvelt has been charged with felony drug possession stemming from his bust for possession of controlled substances i.e. hallucinogenic mushrooms. The 6'11" sophomore forward has been suspended from the team since he was busted along with a teammate Feb 9th when cops pulled over his car and found the shrooms in a gym bag. The suspension is actually convenient, though, because it allows Josh to work on the new MTV athlete reality show, Shroom-n-Days.
-Fellow NCAA baller Jamar Smith of Illinois will be charged with felony DUI after an accident on Monday night left him and his passenger, teammate Brian Carlwell, injured. According to ESPN.com Smith, a sophomore guard averaging 8 PPG, good for 4th on the team, had been drinking tequila & beer before driving his busted old Lexus into a tree. That sound you hear? It's the Illini bubble bursting.
- But the strangest cases of all has to be that of Atlanta Falcons defensive lineman Justin Babineaux, who was arrested and charged with animal cruelty resulting in the death of his girlfriend's dog. I have nothing here- this is just a sick story either way you look at it.
Other weird news comes from the gastric bypass surgery of former Pats coordinator & current Notre Dame head coach Charlie Weis. The malpractice case was declared a mistrial a day before it was set to go to the jury when one of the jurors passed out in the courtroom. Listening to arguments surrounding the condition of Weis' intestines is thought to be the cause of the suspicious ailment.
As many of you may know that ratings juggernaut known as American Karaoke invades living rooms across America for three nights this week, which means I will be holed up in my office until Friday.
Look forward to many more posts.
Monday, February 19, 2007
MannyBeingManny, Papa Brady and the NBA All-Yawn game
The NBA All Star game was a complete dud; file that under the less-than-earth-shattering category. As usual the affair was nothing more than a glorified exhibition game featuring a zillion bad passes, numerous missed dunk attempts, plenty of solo showboating with zero defense played. Kobe Bryant took home the MVP trophy for the West in their 153-132 over the East squad thanks to his 31-point, 5-rebound 6-assist performance, which included no less than four impressive, crowd-pleasing dunks.
In other words the game just like every other game for the past 15-20 years. What, did everybody think that just becasue the game moved to Vegas that it would suddenly morph into a well-played, competitive contest? This game is what it is- a glorified exhibition game featuring a zillion bad passes, numerous missed dunk attempts, plenty of solo showboating with zero defense played.
The good news for the Association? No players were arrested and/or shot this weekend in Sin City. So the entire experience was a positive.
Also in the "less than earth shattering" department we have word that mercurial Red Sox slugger (it's a new law, we have to describe him like that) Manny Ramirez will...drumroll please...report late to training camp. What? You're kidding me? I would have never believed it (please set sarcasm radar to high.) More surprising is the source of the startling information, via the Globe- Gascan Julie Tavarez.
Tavarez passed the word along to Red Sox brass that ManRam would be about a week late for camp due to his mother's pending surgical procedure. Nice of Manny to inform his employers by way of the tried & true "have my buddy tell them a bald-faced lie about my mother" method. Classy.
Let the circus sideshow that is Manny Being Manny begin!
Speaking of sideshows a story broke involving 3-time Super Bowl champ and God-loving
Catholic poster boy Tom Brady yesterday that could finally put a dent in his once-invincible armor: his exgirlfriend, actress Bridget Moynihan, has let it be known that she is preggers with the potential next greatest quarterback in NFL history, spawn of Tom.Yes Tommy Boy is going to be a baby daddy. Unfortunatey the couple has been split up for over 4 months and Brady has moved on to supermodel/DiCaprio throwaway Gisele Bundchen, so this triangle of intrigue is sure to light up both the gossip pages as well as the sports sites for months to come.
This is a huge story not only for Patriot Nation but for the sports world as well. How will the news that a successful, well-liked white athlete go over with the same public that has criticized African-American players who have found thgemselves in the same position- fathering a child out of wedlock? Or in Shawn Kemp's case, a dozen or so.
Not to mention the fact that Tom is a staunch Catholic, and unless the church has suddenly turned ultra-liberal I do belive they frown upon such acts of bastardry.
All I know is this isn't a good thing for any of the parties involved. Except the baby. He's set for life.
To quote Dan Patrick: " I always thought Brady had the best protection?"
Bill Murray: Actor, Comedian, Golf God
This tournament organizer is swept off her feet by Wild BillEvidently I missed a lot of things this weekend while I was spending all day Saturday at the Little League field and all day Sunday at the Outback Champions Pro Am: five people died in avalanches out west; 3 more hikers went missing on Mount Hood (which could bump Anna off the news for a couple of days); and Britney Spears finally went insane.
But pardon me if I let all that stuff slip my attention, for I was busy being entertained by one of the greatest actors of our generation, a man known just as well as Carl Spackler, John Winger, Dr. Peter Venkman and Steve Zissou (true Billophiles will know in which movies he played these characters)as his by real name.
Of course I'm speaking of Mr. William James Murray.
But his millions of friends just call him Bill.
Murray entertained thousands of spectators at the TPC of Tampa Bay course in Lutz this weekend, and I'm not just talking about his stellar golf game. The Oscar nominee (Lost in Translation), Emmy & Golden Globe winner not only won the Pro Am event with partner (and incredibly good sport) Scott Simpson, but he signed about 450,000 autographs (some even for free-more on that in a minute), mugged and played for the cameras, and joked with everyone from his playing partner to the fans to the beefy sheriff's deputies assigned to protect the silly star.
I've been to quite a few major golf tournaments and plenty of baseball games, spring training
and regular season, and I can honestly say I have never seen anyone, celebrity or athlete, sign more autographs and interact with the public more than Murray. Minutes after my buddy Butch and I got there (BTW-thanks for the tix, Butch and FedEx) Murray and Simpson were coming up to 18, where our FedEx suite was located, because they teed off early at the 10. Of well, we thought, we missed him tee off but we'll be right here when he comes up the fairway to 18. About 10 minutes (and two free beers later) Murray and his group start approaching the 18th tee box. How could we tell? By the Tiger-esque gallery that raced to the box minutes before any golfers were sighted. "Must be Murray" we brilliantly surmised.Minutes later Murray, clad in black jacket (it was 50 degrees with 30 mph winds on a blustery day in Tampa Bay), black pants and black shoes with neon purple soles (I kid you not) sauntered up to the hole and unleashed a wicked drive that landed right in the middle of the fairway. Everyone was saying that Murray, a Pebble Beach Pro Am regular who had never won, was playing the best golf of his life, and that drive seemed to solidify that fact.
Although he three-putted the hole when he came off the green was when the true Bill Murray showed up. A large throng of fans had gathered along the ropes lining the exit to 18, right along side the giant Outback Steakhouse Party Tent, and I assumed Murray would have quickly signed a few autographs and hurried off, like many others do (such as Buccaneer Derrick Brooks.)
Instead Murray stood in front of the masses and signed for at least a dozen people, starting with a young boy who handed him a T-shirt with a picture of Murray on it. "And where did you get this shirt, son?"
While the boy's back is turned a man alongside him says "I'll pay his $5.00 if you sign my picture,too", to which an apparently appalled Murray briskly turned and walked to his awaiting cart and partner. The crowd expressed its displeasure with the greedy gentleman, but Murray sauntered back and tossed the shirt back to the kid, stared down the guy who made the offer, and kept the boy's money. As he signed for a few more people he bantered with everyone the whole time. A couple of older ladies from a local charity in front of me asked to borrow a pen, and just as I obliged Bill came over and signed her paper. After scratching a few more John Hancock's he said "whose pen is this?" I told him it was mine and he said "I suppose you want something signed?" I removed my visor and he auto'd it, but I didn't have the balls to ask him if he was going to charge me.
Thankfully he didn't. But when a guy next to me handed a DVD of "Ghostbusters" towards him, Murray told him "$25.00 and meet me at the next hole." Then he (finally) got in his cart and sped off.
I later learned that Murray was taking "charitable donations" in order to sign certain items, i.e.
"shit that would wind up on eBay 60 minutes later." Those items included shirts, DVD's, 8x10 glossies, dancing gophers (no lie), posters, etc... One guy said he was charging $35.00 to take a picture with him, although I never witnessed that therefore cannot verify it as fact. But I believe it. My guess is that his charity was the Bloomin' Onion girls at the Outback tent later. For people he thought were just wanting his signature for the thrill of it, on personal items like hats, programs, and tickets, he signed his arm off. He literally walked over to the ropes after driving on #9, his final hole, signed for about 12-15 people, then sprinted to catch up to his foursome who were waiting for him to hit his second shot. It was amazing.As the gallery grew to witness his final hole he narrowly missed a 20-ft putt from the right of the hole and the crowd groaned audibly; when Simpson stepped up to attempt his short putt Murray said "these guys are really gonna go nuts when you make this putt". Simpson short-putted it to the mock delight of the crowd and angst of Murray, who put his hands in his head as if to say "how could you let me down like that, Scotty?" After making his final putt to finish at -20 Murray threw his ball into the crowd and entered the scoring cabin. Again a huge crowd amassed, awaiting the master showman's final performance. Minutes later he emerged, joking with the cops and chatting with a couple of "important" fans behind the ropes.
Then the man who launched a thousand memorable lines came over to the public and once again began his long signing ritual, joking, posing and collecting money for "charity" all the while.
"Bill, you are The Man!"NOTE: I did not bring my camera, due to the large "no cameras permitted" warning on the back of the ticket, yet everyone & their brother had one. My mistake. These photos are from the website TBO.com
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Will someone please ban Nate Robinson from the dunk contest?
This will be the only trophy the C's hold this year
Howard, the 6"11 wunderkind of the Orlando Magic, had petitioned the league to allow him to dunk on a 12 foot high rim, instead of the usual 10', for his part of the contest. Apparently taking his cue from the No Fun League, commissioner David Stern nixed Howard's plan, using the standard "integrity of the game" bullshit excuse.
Guys this thing is more tired & washed up than Tara Reid. Couldn't you just look the other way this one time, for the good of the event and the benefit of the fans that are still watching, and let Howard attempt to pull off something that has never been done before?
Evidently not. Stern said no, but Howard responded by pulling off a dunk that nobody had ever seen before anyway, just for shits & giggles.
And he still lost.
To a midget who attempts more dunks than a squadron of cops at a donut shop.
But before Nate would use all of that time (plus the extra 2 dunks) in the final Howard would be robbed on one of the most creative and impressive dunks in the history of the contest. After wowing the crowd with a fierce throwdown from just inside the dotted circle in the first round that only netted a 43 from the panel of Dunk Gods- MJ, Dr. J, Kobe, Vince Carter and 'Nique- his second dunk defied all logic.
Way up there is a little sticker of Dwight's smiling faceAnd that's why the dunk contest sucks.
Little guys who need extra time to complete their dunks are rewarded and advance while big guys who come up with original ideas are denied and robbed of the chance of living the event up.
I did not make that up. At least that's what my son told me happened. I feel asleep on the couch after spending 6 hours at the Little League field today.
I just hope none of the players get arrested or worse in Sin City tonight.
But I know that Dwight Howard already got robbed.
Friday, February 16, 2007
A night of basketball beatdowns
Why would I expose myself to 4 hours worth of such defense-free, airball & brick-filled video game level trash? Two reasons:
1.) I have a blog now and it's fun to watch shit like this just to rip it later
2.) My son, whom you'll remember just turned 10, loves this stuff
And what 10-year old kid wouldn't love watching young stars like Nick Cannon, (No More Lil) Bow Wow, Reggie Bush, and LaDanian Crybaby Tomlinson? Unfortunately that meant Dad had to endure watching C-listers like James Denton ("Desperate Housewives"), Jonathan My Career Ended Before it Started Silverman, David Mr. Cox Arquette, not to mention real losers like Carrot Top, Chris Tucker and Jamie Kennedy. Plus one of the coaches was Greg I'll Have Another Anthony and the whole mess was emceed by Stu Left Eye Scott. Oh yeah, and Food Channel great Bobby Flay was on the roster as well. Seriously.
Honest to God I though the wife had slipped me a Peter Pan & jam sandwich because it was like I had passed on and entered purgatory.
Did I mention Vegas dinosaur Wayne Newton was an honorary captain? If Celine Dion had sung the anthem my heart would have exploded on the spot.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
As the "action" progressed the score was like 10-3 West after one quarter and the East looked as bad as Britney Spears after a 3-day bender: airballs, turnovers and enough bricks to please a Colombian cartel leader. Things didn't get much better for the east as Bow Wow scored 6 quick points, blocked a couple of shots, and generally looked like the only one who knew what he was doing out there.
But some guy named Tony Potts , who is a weekend co-anchor on Access Hollywood, stole the show. You know, that Tony Potts. Whoever he is this guy came to play. He was all over the place all night and earned the coveted MVP trophy for his monster 14-point, 8-rebound effort in the West's "impressive" 40-21 victory, a fact that really seemed to aggravate Stu-ya, who was slurping Bow Wow big time by practically asking Potts to give the trophy to him. Potts wouldn't budge, though, and the guy did inspire some of the most entertainment in this otherwise sad night.
We can't believe you won it either, dude
The game was so bad that my son & I played a game of NBA 2K7 on the 360 in the middle of it just to pass the time (even he was appalled at the display being presented to us- numerous times he shouted at the TV "I could've made that shot"- and he was right). Unfortunately I got my ass handed to me in that game just like the East as my son used his new favorite 2K7 team (the Rockets), and his new 3-point weapon (Luther Head) to drub my Magic by 27. Suddenly I felt like David Arquette to his Tony Potts.
Next up was the Rookie/Sophomore game, possibly the only game on the planet where there is
less defense played than in the NBA All Star game & the Pro Bowl combined. These kids (and most of them are just that) played such "ole" defense in this thing that thirteen guys scored in double figures, 4 players had over 20 points and one, David Lee of the Knicks, went for 30 on 14-14 shooting; Lee continued the Year of the Gator (not counting Grossman)by earning the MVP award.
The score was 77- 48 Sophs at the half as Lee got off to a smokin' hot 8-8 start on a steady dose of alley oops, layups and walk in baskets. It got to the point he was so money that I said to Drew "this guy is hotter than what's-his-name-Potts." For some reason that set my son & I on a laughing jag for about the next 5 minutes. It was that kind of night. For the rest of the night we kept injecting the phrase "What's His Name Potts" into the game, for instance "get the ball to What's His Name Potts", or "Chris Paul is giving What's His Name Potts a run for the MVP trophy"...
In hindsight I guess it was one of those 'you had to be there' type things.
Anyway the Sophs annihilated the Frosh, 155- 114, and not only did Lee go for 30 & 11 but Chris Paul nearly had a triple-double (16 pts, 17 ass, 9 stls) and little-known Monta Ellis of the Warriors threw down 28, most of them on nasty alley-oops from Paul. The kids were led by littler-known Paul Millsap of the Jazz and Rudy Gay of the Grizz, who both had 22 points.
All in all it was a night of terrifically bad basketball by many involved including the East celebs, the Freshmen stars and my 2K7 Magic team.
At least What's His Name Potts had a nice night.
Spring training is underway
Hey I realize it's nothing compared to 100+ inch snowfalls and daytime sub-freezing temps of the North but for Florida it's bad enough. That's why I moved here, to escape that kind of crap.
Spring training is underway and the spotlight around Red Sox pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka is already in mid-season, white-hot form. From the minute-by-minute account of his arrival in Fort Myers to comments about his, shall we say, ample frame, the Diceman hath cometh into the world of Intense Media & Fan Scrutiny.
Dan Shaughnessy has already come out with a column railing against the gobs of attention being given to the Japanese phenom the Sox shelled out $103 million bucks to bring to MLB, but I'm sure if Dice-K starts out 8-2 with a 2.30 ERA and indeed throws 5 quality pitches he'll be sucking on his chopstick, too.
It's nice to see the guys down here, though, if for no other reason than to provide a break from the craziness that is the John Amaechi/Tim Hardaway nightmare, the Anna Nicole fiasco and tainted peanut butter.
It's only the first official day of pitchers & catchers reporting but there have already been a number of stories catching the attention of bloggers & news outlets everywhere:
-Keith Johnny Burger King Foulke selfishly denies Sox fans the right to watch him attempt to be a mentor for Fausto Blown Save Carmona
-Mediocre Philles hurler Jon Lieber has a huge overcompen-sation problem
- Kerry Wood has a slip-up on the road to resurrecting his career as a closer
-Barroid Bonds (credit sports aficionado Roger Lodge for that one) finally signs his $15.8 million deal, full of hidden clauses filed under "in case of accidental imprisonment"
-Willy Mo Pena avoids arbitration and signs a 1-year deal with the Sox, thus ensuring Red Sox nation of at least one more season of outfield follies and tape-measure homers
Thursday, February 15, 2007
I'm not gay; I read the S.I. Swimsuit Edition!
Sign #4,286 that I am getting older: I received my Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition today and here I am blogging about it instead of running to my bedroom and...leafing through it , if you catch my drift.
Whatever happened to using good old fashioned supermodels to sell the immensely popular edition? (Speaking of which, Leo DiCan't Win-O's new squeeze, Bar Rafaeli, is prominently featured in the issue. Wonder how long it'll be before Tom Brady is picking up those leftovers.)
I find an interesting parallel going on as the arrival of this annual sports periodical's foray into skin mag territory happens to coincide with the firestorm raging over the announcement that a former NBA player has come out of the closet.
Ex-Orlando Magic and Utah Jazz forward John Amaechi told the whole world last week that
he is homosexual. That means he was what I will refer to as Gay in the NBA. Not that there's anything wrong with that (how much more difficult would it be to talk about these subjects if Seinfeld hadn't come up with that phrase?) Of course ESPN beat the story to death, mainly because they invented the story in the first place, first with a special ESPN the Magazine exclusive complete with excerpts from Amachei's new book "Man in the Middle"(wink wink) and then the requisite 1,000 follow up stories on Sportscenter, Outside the Lines, The Sports Reporters, Around the Horn, PTI, and ESPN.com.Most people, including current NBA players, interviewed for their responses first replied "who the f**k is John Amaechi?!" Then when their memories were refreshed (marginal NBA player for 6 years, English dude, faded into obscurity quicker than Justin Guarini), most responded with the usual litany of pat answers, ranging from "it wouldn't bother me" if his sexual preference had been revealed while he was still an active player, to "I don't think the world of athletics is ready for an openly gay active player right now." In other words, the usual cliche answers, recycled enough times to fit into easily digestible headlines, stories and bylines.
Then something happened that "shocked" not only the the sports world but spilled over into the
realm of the real world: former 5-time NBA All Star Tim Hardaway, at the tail end of an interview with the Miami Herald (and ESPN's) Dan LeB Retard on his Miami radio show, had the audacity to speak his true mind on the subject (a mind that his comments revealed is not filled with many thoughts about social skills or politically correct responses):"You know, I hate gay people, so I let it be known," Hardaway said. "I don't like gay people and I don't like to be around gay people. I am homophobic. I don't like it. It shouldn't be in the world or in the United States."
Oh it's known, Timmy! Now this response was many things, including stupid, short-sighted, spontaneous and foolish. But another way to describe Hardaway's rant is truthful. Sure he came off sounding like a housemate on the Real World but at least his response was brutally, unequivocally, 100% honest. It's what he feels and he let it be known that is how he feels, idiotic or not. Amaechi himself agreed with this assertion when asked about Hardaway's remarks today:"Finally, someone who is honest," he said. "It is ridiculous, absurd, petty, bigoted and shows a lack of empathy that is gargantuan and unfathomable. But it is honest. And it illustrates the problem better than any of the fuzzy language other people have used so far."
Amen, John. At least the man was letting everyone know where he stood on the subject, unlike the many athletes who give the cliched "it wouldn't bother me" reply but in the locker room he says " there's no way I would ever want to play with no f-ing --------------(fill in homophobic epithet here.) It's truly amazing to me how these guys can be so disgusted about the prospect of being teammates with a gay player yet have no qualms about sharing their locker rooms with drug users, wife beaters, child abusers, gun freaks, sexual deviants and crooks. Fascinating disconnect.
Anyway, how does all of this relate to the SI issue? I'm not really sure. But the emphasis on sexuality in all walks of life, sports included, helps formulate these thoughts of hate and bigotry in many of these athletes. They see Beyonce on the cover of SI and of course they are going to gather around the issue and ohh & ahh. How do you think Amachei must have felt when things like that happened?. Like an outsider, just like society has deemed him. What needs to be done is the commissioners of all leagues hold diversity training sessions (not led by Michael Scott), which NBA commish David Stern promised to look into as he was banishing Hardaway from the All Star weekend festivities, to make sure the athletes know that there will come a time that they will be playing with an openly gay, active player.
And guys like Tim Hardaway need to learn that there really isn't anything wrong with that.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Slump busters: Duke, Celts snap skids
I would also like to tell my snowed-in family members in New York, Boston & Ohio "good luck, hang in there, and don't worry, it'll be warm in like 11-12 weeks."
As a late winter storm pelted the Northeast New England's two major hoop teams hosted games that held great importance for the participants.
Celtics drop Bucks to end 18-game slide, 117-97
The Celtics (13-38) dragged an 18-game losing skid into their game against the lowly Milwaukee Bucks (19-34) at the TD BankNorth Bank Garden Center, and seeing as they embark on a brutal 5-game West Coast trip following this weekend's All Star Game, it was win now or possibly match the all-time consecutive loss record of 24 games.
Luckily for the C's they had two things going for them tonight: Paul Pierce and the Milwaukee Yucks. Pierce returned Sunday from a 24 game absence caused by a foot injury, but despite his 29 points Boston still lost to the T-Wolves on a last-second shot by former teammate Ricky Davis. But the mere presence of Pierce sparked the team in that close road loss and his performance tonight led the team to a slump-busting home blowout against a team that came in at 8-23 on the road; the win also snapped Boston's 12-game home losing streak (I blame the building's idiotic names-call it the friggin' Garden already and be done with it.)
The Celt's captain poured in 32 points on 12-19 shooting, including 5-8 threes, as the Green waxed the Bucks by 20, 117-97. Phenom-in-training Gerald Green chipped in with 21 points in just 20 minutes of action, and 5 Celtics scored in double figures. Boston dished out 26 assists, grabbed 11 steals, blocked 5 shots and only turned the ball over 9 times in what was an impressive all-around team effort. Granted it was against the Bucks, but if ever there was a team in need of a walkover win, this was it.
"We are never going to get the No.1 pick with this guy playing like that!"Other notable contributions included Al Jefferson's double-double (17 pts, 10 boards); rookie point guard Rajon Rondo's career-high 11 assists (the kid could be the steal of the draft; he's averaging 10 ppg & 7 apg in February); and Where's Wally Sczcerbiak scoring 17 points after sitting out the past 2 games with yet another ailment (sprained ankle.)
AND THE STREAK IS DEAD!
Sadly after the break a new streak could rapidly begin- the first 5 games the C's play after the break are at Sacramento, Phoenix, the Lakers, Utah and Houston. Combined records: 159-100.
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Blue Devils get back on track, 78-70 over BC
Meanwhile, just about 8 miles away in Chestnut Hill, the 21st ranked Boston College Eagles were playing host to the reeling Duke Blue Devils(19-7), losers of 4 games in a row for the first time since 1995. BC (18-7) stood in a place Duke is used to occupying- atop the ACC with a 9-2 mark- while the Devils' skid had left them in the middle of the ACC pack and sub-.500 at 5-6.
Unlike sparsely-attended game at The Garden, Conte Forum was packed with gold-clad Eagle fans hoping to witness the home team extend the Dukies' run of misery. When the game started out 7-4 in favor of BC and with Duke tossing the ball away as it had many times in the 4 previous losses, it looked like tonight would be more of the same for the most hated college hoop team in America.
But suddenly the Duke offense woke from its slumber and the defense stepped up and began 
playing D like the standout Duke teams of old. Led by mercurial forward Josh McRoberts (18 pts, 11 rebs) the Devils quickly tied the contest at 9, and the teams traded scores for a while until Duke took control of the contest right before the half. That's when their suffocating defense and dominating paint play turned a 29-29 game into an 11-point halftime lead, 43-32, with most of the damage being done by McRoberts; the enigmatic big man nearly had a double-double at the break (12 pts, 8 rebs), and his post presence could not be matched by the helpless Eagle team.
I've said all along that what Duke needed to be successful was to get McRoberts off the perimeter, where he loves to set up and control the offense like a point forward but he is useless as a serious rebounder/post player. Evidently Coach K must have said the same thing to him after the their blowout loss at Maryland Sunday because McRoberts was living in the paint, capitalizing on BC turnovers and his teammates' precision passes to hit an array of layups and dunks. While he was doing his damage the Duke defense was holding Eagles star forward Jared Sean Paul Dudley to just 2 points in the half; he came in averaging an ACC-best 20 ppg (he finished with 11.)
The Devils combined their 18-5 run to close the first half with a 22-9 run to open the second and the lead quickly ballooned to 22 points, 65-43 with just under 13:00 to go in the game. It was reminiscent of many Duke games, from the easy baskets to the numerous steals (Duke had 10 steals and forced 19 turnovers resulting in 49 points) to the defeated attitude of their opponent. Even the announcers, Dukie V and Mike Patrick, kept commenting how it looked as if the Eagles were giving up on plays and not putting forth their best effort.
But something happened on the way to blowout city- the Devils went conservative with about 8:00 to play, trying to milk the clock because they wanted the win so badly, that they let BC right back in the game. The healthy lead was cut to a scary 8 points, 74-66, with just 3 minutes left to play and all Duke fans could think was "if they blow this game the season is shot." But a couple of key plays late, including a terrific slashing, Grant Hill-like layup from Gerald Henderson and a clutch 3-pointer from Greg Paulus (15 pts, 7 ass, 3 stls) kept the Eagles at bay and the Dukies snapped their mini-streak at four games.
So everything is over- the Celtics losing streak, the Blue Devil's losing streak, Valentine's Day.
Well, not everything is finished; looks like there will be plenty more of the uglier-by-the-minute Anna Nicole saga and also snow.
Good luck, Northerners. It was a balmy 75 again here today (not to rub it in or anything.)
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Oscar Nominee Review: Apocalypto
Apocalypto
Rated: R for graphic violence (REALLY graphic)
Starring: Rudy Youngblood, Raul Trujillo, Jonathan Brewer
Directed by: Mel Gibson
Running time: 2 hrs, 18 mins
DVD Release Date: April
Nominated for:
- Achievement in Makeup
-Sound Editing
-Sound Mixing
First off, I'd like to start out by thanking my Uncle Tony for providing me with the screener of this film. Tony, I couldn't have crafted this masterpiece of a review without you. Thanks. Also I would like to thank my producer...
..sorry, too many awards shows this season!
Let me start off by saying that I wanted to dislike this film in a major way. Ever since Mad Mel went on his drunken, anti-Semitic tirade in Malibu last July, I lost all respect for the actor & filmmaker whom I had previously enjoyed very much. But like Michael Richards, Paris Hilton, and Isaiah Washington, once you cross that line into racial, homophobic, or anti-Semitic territory, you will never be viewed the same way again by a large section of the population.
That being said I was mildly disappointed when Apocalypto, Gibson's much-maligned, Mayan language labor of love, opened to rave reviews and decent box office ($15 million) last December. I thought "how can these people flock to a subtitled movie that's full of gore & bloodshed and directed by a drunken bigot?" I know after seeing the film that the answer is because the freakin' thing is really good! Yes, as much as I wanted to hate this movie, even hoping that it would tank at the box office and send Mad Mel, who financed the whole operation, into the Jew-filled world of debt consolidation., after viewing it, I can see why it not only reaped huge critical acclaim but also has grossed a respectable $50+ million in this country to date. Factoring in overseas revenue and DVD sales, not only will 'Sugar Tits' be able to once again say "I told you so", much like with his Passion of the Christ, but with a budget of $40 million he even made money from it. Amazing.
As soon as the film begins it immediately transports the viewer to 16th century Central 
America, when the Mayans ruled the land before the Spanish Conquistadors came and wiped out centuries of civilization. In the first scene, we witness a small group of tribesmen hunting in the thick Yucatan jungle. The party chases, traps and ingeniously kills a huge wild tapir, which resembles a giant rat. As they start to carve the animal up, young tribesman Jaguar Paw (Youngblood) hands out certain parts- the heart, liver, and ears- to the rest of the hunters as a reward for the kill. He then slices off the testicles of the beast and hands them to Blunted (Brewer), telling him that if he eats them it will cure his maddening case of impotence. As the naive young man chomps down on the large orbs, not only did I nearly lose my lunch but I thought to myself "I guess those male dysfunction drugs aren't that bad."
The group laugh it up at Blunted's expense after informing him they were kidding about the testes healing powers when a quiet stillness comes over the jungle, followed by the sudden appearance of a wandering tribe. Jaguar Paw's father, Flint Sky, informs the travelers that this is his jungle and they'd better have good reason for passing through. They present a gift of fresh fish and ask for passage through the territory on their way to search for "a new beginning." Flint Sky accepts the offering and allows them to pass, although after hesitating Jaguar Paw appears ready to kill the mysterious young leader of the group. His father holds him off, then upon returning to their village takes his son aside and tells him "fear is a sickness...that has tainted your peace already. I did not raise you to see, you live with fear. Strike it from your heart. Do not bring it into our village."
The warning from his father would prove prophetic because soon after returning to their village he would need to summon all his strength and courage to fight what fate has in store for them. Jaguar Paw has a disturbing dream in which he is back in the jungle and sees the wandering tribesman whom he wanted to slaughter earlier; the man is standing there with a terrified look on his face, breathing heavily. "What do you want?" Jaguar Paw asks him. As the camera pans out, we see why he is panting: his stomach is sliced open and he is holding his still-beating heart in his hand. "Run!" the figure pleads to him, and he awakens with a start. I get chills just remembering that eerie scene.
Upon awakening, Jaguar Paw discovers that his village is being invaded by marauders. Initially, I thought it was the tribe that Flint Sky had let pass coming back to haunt them, but it was actually a group of warriors from a distant Mayan city. As the soldiers set fire to the houses and drag the villagers into the open to be either brutally slain, tortured, raped or taken prisoner, Jaguar Paw hides his young son and pregnant wife Seven in a nearby pit. Soon, the entire village has been plundered and Jaguar Paw, Blunted, and the remaining men & women are secured by their necks to long poles and hauled off into the jungle, leaving a trail of frightened youngsters following behind and wondering what has happened to their tranquil family life.
The party traverses dense jungle, neck-deep waters and barren landscapes on their journey to whatever the invaders have in store for them. Along the way the leader of the warriors, Zero Wolf (Trujillo), asserts his superiority over his captives and charges, threatening to kill his top soldier, the ruthless Middle Eye, for throwing one of the wounded captives over a cliff. We also learn that Zero Wolf's son, Hanging Moss, is present with them, and an interesting parallel is drawn between the two separate father/son dynamics in the saga, wise Flint Sky & innocent Jaguar Paw and evil Zero Wolf & his equally naive protege, Hanging Moss.
Before the group enters the city they come across a creepy young girl in the middle of a desolate field; she is infected by a mysterious "sickness", thus ostracised from the rest of the community. The men are instructed to avoid the girl, but she issues an ominous warning nonetheless: "Would you like to know how you will die? The sacred time is near. Beware the blackness of the day. Beware the man who brings the jaguar...the one he takes you to will cancel the sky and scratch out the earth. Scratch you out. And end your world." Once again, chills.
Finally they arrive at the destination they have been travelling so many miles to reach- a large Mayan city filled with elaborate buildings, sewage-filled streets and thousands of inhabitants. It is a far cry from the quaint, leafy village existence the captives have known all their lives. Soon after arriving the prisoners learn what is to be their fate. Some are to be sold at auction, used as slaves to mine the salt that cakes the city and workers in a thick white powder, while others will be used as bloody human sacrifices to the tribes beloved sun gods.
The entire time Jaguar Paw can think of nothing but his wife and son stuck down in the pit with no way of escape, praying that it doesn't rain and fill the hole, drowning the only family he has left. The way Youngblood's facial expressions capture his emotions is one reason the viewer is so drawn into the film- we want badly for him to escape and save his family, a sure-fire mark of an excellent movie.
It is at this point that the movie changes direction and turns into an extremely gory, extremely tense, vengeance-filled adventure. The men who are to be sacrificed are painted blue and led up to the top of a steep Mayan temple, a shrine lined with many steps that are covered in thick layers of blood. As Jaguar Paw and the others are taken to what will be their final destination, objects bounce down the steps and are scooped up by the people at the bottom. We soon learn those objects are the decapitated heads of the sacrificees, lopped off and tossed downstairs after their hearts have been removed while the bodies are arched backwards over a bloody pedestal. Grim indeed.
After several subjects succumb to this gruesome fate, Jaguar Paw finds himself next in line, and although he is at a loss to figure out how he is going to extricate himself from this predicament, he knows he must find a way in order to keep his promise to return for his wife & son. Just as he is placed upon the pedestal, a strange thing begins to happen- the sky starts to darken as the moon passes over the sun. It is a solar eclipse, an event surely predicted by the sun-worshipping tribe and used by the elders as a way to prove to the commoners that their sacrifices have worked. ("...beware the blackness of the day...") The rest of the prisoners are then spared the more disgusting method of demise and are ordered to be executed by conventional means.
The final act of the film deals with Jaguar Paw's brilliant escape from his captors and subsequent journey to rescue his family before it's too late. It is interesting to witness how the hesitant young villager has turned into a cunning and lethal hunter, thanks to the words of his father, the love of his family and the hardening of his soul after seeing such devastation and bloodshed in the city. Jaguar Paw embarks on a what many have called a Rambo-esque jungle adventure, single-handedly taking out each of his pursuers with a silent savagery that can only come from deep-seeded feelings within, from being without fear in one's heart. His vengeance is filled with heart stopping leaps, vicious animal attacks, incredible escapes and the strategic use of toad toxin.
By the time he returns to his village, Jaguar Paw has grown from wide-eyed student to steely-eyed warrior, a man who met the difficult challenges that faced his society head-on and came out on top. Whether or not he rescued his wife & son, I won't divulge here (you know I don't do spoilers), but like most of the film it's not really about the end results, it's about the journey that gets you there and how it makes you grow as a person.
Upon conclusion of the film, all I could say was "wow", another sure-fire sign of a quality film. The cinematography is breathtakingly gorgeous, the makeup, sets and costumes are incredibly detailed & authentic, the soundtrack is haunting & mood-setting and the acting top-notch. With the use of both digital HD and traditional cameras, Gibson and cinematographer Dean Semler (who won an Oscar for his work on Dances with Wolves) create a staggeringly crisp, beautiful panorama of the era and the surroundings. What amazed me the most is that there are very few wide angle shots; most of the filming is done with tight shots at intimate angles, giving the viewer a real sense of being completely immersed in the tale.
Many have been critical of Mad Mel's liberal bending of the facts in order to get his story across. For instance, the murderous actions by the city dwellers are believed to have been typical of the Aztecs, not the Mayans, a culture that came to power many years after the Mayans were removed from the region. The murals in the city were not attributed to that time period either, and the buildings were also from different periods of history. Also, the Spanish Conquistadors ships that are seen arriving at the end of the film really wouldn't have been there for hundreds more years.
But to those nitpickers I say, get over it. This is a work of fiction, not a documentary, and every film in the history of cinema that depicts a real person or event skirts around some of the actual facts in order to make the story more compelling or entertaining- that's why movies are categorized as entertainment. If you want a straight facts history lesson, watch the History Channel or take a class; don't expect a film to teach everything there is to know about a subject. Many times the actual facts are quite boring and wouldn't keep the viewer interested for very long, a sure-fire sign of a bad film.
As for the excessive violence that has caused many to disregard the film as an overly bloody mess, it's true that the movie is incredibly graphic and gory. However, it is done with the depiction of a primitive culture of people who used savage techniques to get their points across and accomplish tasks. Apocalypto is no more gruesome than carnage-filled teen flicks like Hostel and the Saw franchise, but the setting and realism may make it seem more offensive to some.
All in all, this was a masterful picture that tells many different stories and Gibson himself has said is an allegory for the troubles facing modern society. Whatever reason you choose for watching and interpreting it, just remember that it is a stunning work of fiction, a blood-soaked romp through another era wrought with pain, suffering, tragedy, triumph and survival.
Oh, and tapir balls.
