I had the opportunity to see The Wolfman this week. The latest reimagining of the classic Universal monster is directed by Joe Johnston from a screenplay by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self, based on the original 1941 script by Curt Siodmak.
There’s a lot to like in this version. The monster himself (or is it “itself”?) looks great, evoking the original version immortalized by Lon Chaney, Jr. in the 1940s. But then again, six time Oscar-winning makeup artist Rick Baker is behind it. There are some great action scenes, including an attack on a gypsy village and a chase across the rooftops of Victorian London that really do deliver. Benicio Del Toro emotes sufficient angst as the tragic title character and Anthony Hopkins is delightfully menacing as his father. And the film contains enough limb-tearing carnage to satisfy the expectations of the genre.
But overall, the movie misses. Right from the start the pacing is off. The story unfolds awkwardly. The introduction of Lawrence Talbot, the man destined to become a wolf, is hurried. Too many things are thrown at the audience in a disjointed, confusing manner. As a result, by the time he’s growing fangs and claws, I was really not engaged in the proceedings. This problem extends to both the love interest Gwen Conliffe (Emily Blunt) and the wolfman’s adversary Abberline (Hugo Weaving). Neither makes enough of a connection for the audience to care about them. It will be curious to see how moviegoers take to The Wolfman. I imagine it will not enjoy anywhere near the success of Universal’s last monster resurrection, The Mummy. Best to just forget about the long-haired beast and move on to the next one. (Creature from the Black Lagoon anyone?)
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Instead, the most interesting thing about the night actually occurred before the opening credits even began to roll. About five minutes before the start of the film, Jimmy Kimmel plopped down two seats away from where I was sitting with my good friend and neighbor Robert.
Now, it’s not that I was all that excited to have a television personality sit next to me. I must confess that I don’t watch Jimmy Kimmel Live with any regularity. But when I do, I usually find myself laughing. I did catch several of his bits during the late night wars, including a hilarious segment where Kimmel came out one night made up like Jay Leno, complete with extended prosthetic chin. He proceeded to do the opening monologue with a dead-on impression of his talk show rival, hilariously satirizing the Leno style and manner.
The reason why this encounter is worth mentioning is that I had met Kimmel a little over ten years ago -- when I was a contestant on Win Ben Stein’s Money.
As some may remember, Win Ben Stein’s Money was a quirky game show that had a successful run on Comedy Central in the late 1990s. Three contestants answered pop culture-oriented questions posed by Ben in the first round. The one with the lowest point total was eliminated. In the second round, Ben took the place of the deposed contestant and played against the remaining two. His goal was to stop them from accumulating more points. At the end of this round, the player with more points won a dollar amount equivalent to his or her total and a chance to play one-on-one against Ben for a grand prize of $10,000. Both Ben and the contestant were separately asked the same ten questions. Whoever correctly answered more won.
What made the show so much fun was that Ben’s payday was based on the outcome. If he won, the money went into his pocket. If the contestant came out on top, Ben was working for free that day. Jimmy Kimmel was Ben’s assistant. He introduced the contestants and asked the questions in both the second and final rounds of the action.
I really enjoyed the show and thought it would be a kick to appear on it. Having played it enough while watching, I arrogantly thought I would have no trouble beating my two opponents. Depending on the final round questions, I also thought I had a shot at besting Ben. So I signed up online, went to the studio and took the applicant quiz. And, lo and behold, I got the call to appear on the show.
What actually happened was quite different from what I had envisioned.
Three separate episodes of the show were filmed in one day, so I was put in a room with nine other contestants (three for each show and a stand-in just in case someone freaked out and had to be replaced). Most of my fellow players were very nice and it was a pleasure to talk with them. But one did stick out. She had bleached blonde hair, a short skirt and very ample cleavage magnificently displayed in a low cut sweater. During her on-camera interview, she did an impression of Marilyn Monroe. You get the picture.
Miss Blonde was trouble right from the start. She kept the rest of us waiting by showing up 20 minutes late. She didn’t seem to have a clue as to anything about the show. As the day unfolded, she kept herself from the rest of us, rarely saying a word. She did, however, perk up when one of the producers passed us in the hall during a bathroom break, greeting him by name. We were given a set of instructions about what we couldn’t do as contestants. Leaving the room unless accompanied by a show rep was forbidden. So was using a cell phone. Both rules were broken during the day. I don’t have to tell you by whom.
When filming finally began, our group was reduced to seven. I started sizing up my competition, thinking who I would have no trouble beating and who might give me a game. Eventually the second show was ready to begin and three more went out the door. I remained. Now I started to think about my poor wife Cindy who had come down to support me. She was out in the audience, forced to sit through two other tapings, wondering what the hell happened to me.
And wouldn’t you know it, one of the other remaining contestants was Miss Blonde. Based on her actions during the day, I thought there was no chance I couldn’t outdo her. I was feeling pretty good at that point.
Finally, it was our turn and we took the stage. As my other competitor was also female, I was placed in the middle. Miss Blonde was on the end, closest to Ben. And it was obvious that Ben was enjoying “the show.” Every time he came near us, his eyes went directly to her cleavage. His remarks also made it clear who was his favorite contestant of this show.
As you may realize, I know a little bit about film and television. When questions in those categories initially came up, I jumped into an early lead. After the first round, I had the most points. Miss Blonde was second. The next round didn’t go so well. I blanked. Ben smoked. And as the final buzzer sounded, I was second in the standings. Miss Blonde had won. What happened next surprised me most. She turned to me and asked quite innocently, “So, I get to keep the money?” Dumbfounded, I told her the few hundred dollars she had accumulated was indeed hers.
As I sat in the audience and watched Ben beat her in the final round (after all, there was just so much Ben was willing to do for his libido), I took stock of the blur that had just raced before me. Of course, I was disappointed.
But if there is one thing I remember fondly from that day it was Jimmy. Before the show, he came over and chatted with me and asked about my company -- Never Dull Productions. He also tried to set me up for a laugh during the contestant introduction. At the time, I was shopping a screenplay about a little boy who believes his parents have turned into vampires. And, if I do say so modestly, it has a very funny title. Jimmy caught this and brought it up when it was my turn to talk about myself. “Chris is a writer and has a particularly unusual family-oriented screenplay, don’t you Chris,” I essentially remember him saying, setting me up to get a laugh with the title. Problem was, I was instructed during orientation not to talk about any of my projects. In my nervousness, I completed blew the set-up and lamely replied, “That’s right Jimmy, I do.” As I did, I could sense his disappointment and he moved on with the show.
And that’s what probably bothers me most about the experience. Though I hate to think that something underhanded occurred with Miss Blonde, it is hard to ignore all the red flags. The final clue was the contestant prize I received. All the losing contests were given a gift for their participation. I got the best one -- a beautiful leather recliner. It was almost as if the contestant handlers were trying to console me for what had happened. But, after all, I was given a fair chance to answer the questions. I can’t blame the producers for the fact that I didn’t know the answers. And ultimately, though I couldn’t claim I won Ben Stein’s money, I could boast that I had won his chair.
On the other hand, I have no one but myself to blame for blowing that punchline -- not to mention a plug for my project. So, when I saw Jimmy sitting there on Monday, I leaned over to him, introduced myself and told him I had been a contestant on Win Ben Stein’s Money. He smiled and asked if I had won. Not wanting to go into the complicated story above, I just said “no.” But I told him how I had never forgotten how nice he was when I was on the show. I also explained how disappointed that I didn’t deliver the laugh he set up. So, if I may, I’d like to finally do the punchline here.
“Yes Jimmy, it’s called My Parents Suck!”
I feel better already.
