You see, Editor Jill and I were clearing out some of our DVR last night, so we watched an old episode of To Catch a Predator. We've seen all of the episodes, and by the time you've seen a few of them, you really start to worry about the future of mankind. First, there's the alarming number of people who will set up a meeting on the Internet with a teenager for sex, which in and of itself is ridiculous when you could instead just host a birthday party. The number of people who you see on ...Predator makes you wonder how many people are really out there like this. But second, you start to wonder how dumb these people have got to be, realizing that with all of the media frenzy surrounding online predators, police task forces are running stings left and right. And if anyone would know to stay the hell out of this kind of trouble, it's a cop, right? Right? Right, Cpl. Albert Silveri?

Silveri, a Pennsylvania state trooper in the accident reconstruction team, allegedly solicited a 33-year-old woman—fine—and her 8 and 10-year-old daughters—not so much—for sex. One little problem: the "mother" was an undercover detective with the Delaware County District Attorney's Office. Oops! Contrary to popular belief, we're not often ones to rush to judgment based on allegations that we read in the newspaper, but when there's forensic evidence against in the form of your state-issued laptop computer, we lose pretty much all sympathy. Using your employer-issued computer for illicit purposes is pretty much the height of stupidity, especially when your employer is the freakin' government. This stupidity goes beyond even Brett Favre using a Packers-issued cell phone to talk to the Vikings. We just wonder how fast Silveri will plead out.

The good news for Silveri, our Asshole of the Week: at least he never had to hear the words, "I'm Chris Hansen from Dateline NBC, and we're doing a story on adults who try to meet teenagers on the Internet for sex."

Image credit: Flickr user The G-tastic 7.

Don't forget tonight's opener is Philly's own (but now Brooklyn's) Santogold. If you were rockin' Santi White's album well before Bud Light used it in a commercial to try to up the cool factor of alcohol-infused pisswater, enjoy this bonus of catching her performance.

Coldplay (with Santogold)
Wachovia Center (3601 S. Broad Street)
TONIGHT, July 25, 2008, 8PM
SOLD OUT (but try craigslist)

Image via Coldplay's official website.

You guys rock.

No, really.

You rock.

I've never moved with movers before. In the past, I'd enticed friends with upper body strength to help me move with the promise of fifty bucks or a few free meals or, most recently, a pizza and a six pack. But when Ross and I decided it was time to take that crucial couple step of moving in together, it became quickly apparent that we couldn't simply get by with a little help from our friends. We had too much stuff, between us, to even think about asking our friends for help.

And so, after determining that you were amongst the highest-rated movers on Citysearch—and certainly the highest-rated movers whose schedules meshed with ours and whose hourly rates we could afford—we decided to use you in our move from Fairmount to Northern Liberties.

Contrary to our fears that you might be running late, as we'd heard about some movers, or might have forgotten us completely, as we'd heard about others, you called us two hours before your ETA to tell us you were ready if we were. We weren't, but in a day and age when the cable guy gives you a six-hour window to work with, we really appreciated even having the option.

When you did finally arrive, we were still manically throwing stuff into boxes, having already decided that certain things would have to stay behind for us to pick up later (ah, the joy of having a two week lease overlap!). Not a problem, you told us. We just needed to put the cats away (poor things did not like being cooped up in the bathroom, but that's not your fault), and you'd work around the humans bubble-wrapping wine glasses in the middle of the living room. In about ninety minutes, the apartment was completely emptied (save for the aforementioned reserves and the aforementioned cats), and we were ready to head to our new digs.

But oh, what surprises awaited you there! You see, aside from all the stuff you'd loaded in your truck, there were two Door to Door containers outside the house, filled with stuff from my old apartment, and roughly doubling the number of boxes, if not the amount of furniture, you'd need to take upstairs. I watched in awe as you, unable to use a dolly to get to our second-floor walk-up, said no problem to the extra unloading and carried the boxes on your backs. You didn't drop anything. You didn't break anything. You took the time to ask me where to put the less-clearly labeled boxes, rather than just dumping them wherever you saw fit. You unloaded my things in a flash, and when it came time to move on to Ross's, you were still undaunted. Even the dresser, which the furniture store movers had struggled with in a building with an elevator, was no problem to you as you moved it up not one, but two flights of stairs.

Only the sofa gave you pause. Although before signing our lease, we had measured the entry stairwell's width and height, what we'd failed to take notice of was the angle of the door at the top of it. The angle that meant the ceiling above it was framed into a triangle. It's architecturally pleasing, to be sure, but you were sure it would inhibit the couch moving.

How right you were. The sofa made it up the stairs, the front end almost made it in the door, and then there was nowhere to go. Back down it went while one of you measured our windows, one of you called another guy on your team who lived in the neighborhood, and the third went back to your garage (which, despite your name, is [conveniently] in Northern Liberties and not Old City) to get straps. In forty minutes, the rest of the truck had been unloaded while Ross and I stood on the sidewalk and glared at anyone who seemed to think our couch was fair game. In forty-five minutes, you were removing our windows from their frames. In sixty minutes, the sofa was bundled and standing on its end. Two of you were on the third floor, ready to pull the sofa with all your strength. One of you was on the second floor, ready to catch the sofa as soon as it neared the window and pull it in. And one of you was on the street, under the sofa, either to keep it straight during the initial lifting or to break its fall should one of the straps break. If it was the latter, then you get an extra commendation for your commitment to not damaging our sofa. (I kid.)

In sixty-five minutes, the sofa was situated in the living room. That's right: five whole minutes was all it took. A week later, and I'm still in awe.

We still have a ton of unpacked boxes, and there's still plenty of stuff we have to move from the old place (mostly the contents of the refrigerator, which, admittedly, are likely all garbage bound), but I want to thank you (and so does Ross, but he doesn't get to write a weekly column in the form of an open letter, so I'm thanking you for both of us) for making the bulk of our move so easy and, with the exception of the heart attack I almost had when I first saw our sofa leave the ground, drama free. And so, John, Julian, Joe, and Matt (who was only there long enough to help lift the sofa, but still more than earned his tip), thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll sing your praises to anyone who asks.

Meanwhile, guys, keep July 16, 2010 on your calendars. That's our expected move-out date, and we'll need you to help us get the sofa back down.

Old City Movers' logo via their website. If you're moving soon, call them.

As I set out on the 40-minute drive from Norristown to Fishtown, where English power-pop duo The Ting Tings were playing Johnny Brenda’s with opening act Pattern Is Movement, the rains were absolutely torrential. There was pretty much zero visibility on the Schuylkill Expressway, where people continued to speed and generally drive like maniacs despite the treacherous conditions and half of the road being torn up. Upon our arrival in the area of Frankford Avenue, we confronted a downed tree in the middle of the road, which we went around only to come face-to-face with a bus tearing its way down the street toward our vehicle. Needless to say, when we arrived at the venue, we felt that our night could only go up from there.

But then Pattern Is Movement went on.

Now, I couldn’t play a triangle if you spotted me the triangle and the thing you beat on it with, so I try not to rag too heavily on bands who are making a living by playing instruments semi-competently… but these guys were pretty awful. Consisting of percussionist Chris Ward and multi-instrumentalist/singer Andrew Thiboldeaux, Pattern Is Movement played an eight-song set of songs that sounded exactly the same in their construction. You could set your watch by it: delicate, theatrical singing to start, which turns into an instrumental breakdown—repeatedly the best part of their presentation—followed by a dramatic quick-stop for some operatic singing by Thiboldeaux, and then Ward bangs on his drums like a petulant five-year-old in order to signify the denouement of the song. I’m telling you, I used to love songs with crashing cymbals. Dave Grohl was my favorite drummer. Now I’m considering putting a contract out on him for influencing Ward.

Meanwhile, calling the band’s dirges “songs” is probably a bit of a reach when you consider a) the distracting stops and starts left the mixed audience of hipsters, fratties, iPod owners, and, evidently, people who just happened to be walking down the street, unable to determine when a song was actually concluding; b) there was no discernible traces of melodies, hooks, or choruses, and; c) the singer was on some sort of Sigur Ros-ian headtrip, yelping and whining in a manner that left the listener unable to understand one word he was saying. I seriously thought I heard him say that one song was “a Jay-Z cover,” but I must have been dazed, because the stuff that came next sure didn’t sound like H.O.V.A.

Perhaps the only highlight of their set was when Thiboldeaux asked the assembled audience to clap and then launched into the opening strains of Radiohead’s “Everything in Its Right Place,” a song that probably ranks in the Top Ten of all time for this biased observer. Their rendition was actually quite strong, but served only to highlight the band’s deficiencies: playing within the structure of what is a subversive, yet tightly organized, arrangement, the band was able to showcase their intriguing, loud-quiet dynamic and even tossed in a stirring drum solo to close the number. When left to their own auspices, their sound was reduced to loud, predictable earplug fodder.

By the end of Pattern Is Movement’s set, the crowd was getting a little restless, and some even resorted to classless tactics, like the one who cheered when Thiboldeaux announced their last song, or the one that let out a "Yahoo" in the middle of a momentary silence. However, it should be said that he did not help his cause by repeatedly bemoaning the fact that the band was set up on the floor to the left of the stage rather than on the raised platform. No less than three times did the frontman refer to the setup, including one admittedly hilarious occasion when he stated that the band was “really floored when [they] got the opportunity to do this show.” The feeling of bitterness only seemed to push away an audience who was there to see someone else anyway. And let’s be real. While the floor setup had a bit of a second-class-citizen feel to it, these guys were given the opportunity to play in front of a packed house in their hometown. All they brought to the table was sound-alike noise histrionics that made no impression with the paying customers whatsoever and a shitload of self-defeating, angry harrumphing. When you consider this, what were these guys expecting? The Kanye at Bonnaroo outer-space extravaganza or a huge inflatable pig flying overhead? In other words: if playing a dud set didn’t kill their chances of playing Johnny Brenda’s again, ragging on the stage crew (and their headliner—“we didn’t want to disturb this nice, shiny setup”) just may have.

As for the Ting Tings, Pattern Is Movement’s performance was destined to make them sound as beautiful as Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys, even if they came out and played their instruments My Left Foot-style while standing on their heads, but right from the beginning they showed the musical chops that have afforded them a buzzworthy reputation and growing throng of followers. The duo kicked off with “We Walk”—mad props for pasting the set list on the stage beforehand for the unfamiliar—which featured drummer Jules De Martino playing guitar while working the kit, and singer Katie White churning out some killer, psychedelic keyboard ambiance. For the next track, “Great DJ,” White took up the guitar and De Martino was left to do what he does best—generate driving, danceable drum beats that had the crowd moving, including two inexplicable 50-year-olds to my right, who, on this night, had evidently taken either a little extra Advil or a little extra Ecstasy; I couldn’t tell which.

Throughout the Ting Tings’ nine-song performance, I found myself surprised by the measure of their instrumental prowess, something that I chalk up to two factors. First, I have not been exposed to too much of their music, although I have heard one or two songs on YouTube, and I will, at this point, be buying their debut album, We Started Nothing, like, NOW! Second, I must be a chauvinist or something because I really did not think a woman who looks like an uber-hot mix of Nico, Kylie Minogue's evil twin and Catherine Deneuve-circa Belle du Jour was going to rock so hard on guitar. Led by White’s focused ax work, “Fruit Machine,” became a highlight of the show, featuring a locked-in groove and a guitar line straight out of the Dick Dale playbook. Also of note was the extended conclusion of cursory encore jam “We Started Nothing,” and, of course, the instantly recognizable, '80s-retro “Shut Up and Let Me Go,” which featured White banging on everything from a huge bass drum to an always welcome cowbell.

As for negatives, there weren’t many, but I could have went without the down-tempo “Traffic Light.” Before starting off, White almost apologized to the crowd calling the song their “only slow one.” And well, she sort of did have to apologize because the song wasn’t very good and, considering how the concert had been going, its placement in the middle of the set list was a total momentum squasher. To their credit, once the song was over, they had no problem getting the party started up again.

And now for the obligatory venue gripe: This was my first time at Johnny Brenda’s and I do think it is a tremendous place to see a show…that is, if you can actually see the show. The iPod exposure has made this band a little too popular, and I’m thinking that they may have been a little more suitable for the TLA, perhaps? Since I like beer and, as a result, urination, I lost my spot at the front of the balcony and found myself at least five deep back from a line of sight by the time the Ting Tings went on. This left me unable to do much reporting on the stage presence of the group, and I also was not able to confirm my suspicion that, as Pattern Is Movement was sort of hinting at, White was a most likely major diva. The wife says she saw her treating the stage crew a little rough, but that is all I got.

In the end, the Tings Ting were the real deal. They performed a memorably energetic set, and left at least one viewer eager to find out what else they have to offer. Pattern Is Movement? Not so much. (Fairness alert: Drowned in Sound disagrees.)

None of my pictures came out, so image credit goes to Flickr user bunmun.

In the spirit of doing the ending first: go see this.

We love watching dance, but we also really like thinking about it. That’s why when we heard there would be a panel discussion around Ballet X's All Female Choreographers Project, which runs through Sunday afternoon at the Wilma Theater, we knew we wanted to go, even if we couldn’t make a performance. Moderated by Pointe Magazine editor Virginia Johnson and featuring the women whose work comprised the program—Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, Helen Pickett, and Ballet X co-Artistic Director Christine Cox—as well as PA Ballet Artistic Director Roy Kaiser and Ballet X co-Artistic Director Matthew Neenan, the big question ("But why aren't there more women doing choreography?") was left to the end, as the choreographers discussed their inspiration and process (the title of this post comes from Lopez Ochoa, when describing her first experiences with choreography).

But why won't wait forever, and it was both intriguing and really frustrating that no one had a handy answer. It seemed particularly ironic to be pondering the dearth of female choreographers with a 9-months pregnant Cox on stage; women are obviously not strangers to the concept of creation. The frustration was lifted as Pickett suggested that, rather than ask why it’s not happening, "we just go do it," which, as it turns out, these three women did with these three world premiers, to startling effect (we were lucky enough to be able to catch a performance after all).

It's no secret that we are big fans of this company. If we don’t go into depth about the dancers' performances in the three pieces featured in the program, it is for the simple fact that the Ballet X company members and guest performers are some of the most technically competent and inspired athletes. In order to move beyond the classic one must know it inside and out, and it’s obvious these folks do—the quality of their performance doesn’t need mentioning because it is a given. Besides, we'd watch Meredith Rainey watch paint dry. Seriously, if they ever make the company members work on the scenery, they'd better give us a call.

Pickett's "Union" came first, and what she had said earlier in the panel discussion about the importance of music and lighting to her work quickly became apparent. Perhaps because she had mentioned it we tried to pay attention to the use of light, and the shifting of colors, from the orange of sunrise to the red of evening, really made us appreciate the progression of the dance that much more (note to self: start paying more attention to production values). The music, cacophonous at first, slows and mellows before swelling again in the joyful third part. Pickett had also mentioned the importance of involving the dancers in the choreographic process, of recognizing their strengths. This also was particularly evident in part three, when the constant flux of partnering and focus emphasized the incredibly fun nature of the footwork. If the dancers themselves weren’t having fun, they should all get into acting.

Next was Cox's revision of a work she originally did for 2001's Shut Up and Dance, "Numb Roads." It could be our affection for Portishead (which provided the soundtrack), or for local girls, but this was our favorite. An exploration of "the challenges people face when in a relationship or single," the piece features the dancers moving together and alone, coming together and breaking apart in visually affecting ways. The motif of running manifested in many surprising ways, including some stunning displays of athleticism that made us wonder at the trust dancers must place in their partners. Something that struck us was the way the movement matched the music in what felt like a one-to-one correlation a good deal of the time. Yes, that’s the point of rhythm and all, but seeing classical movements held along with the thoroughly modern soundtrack brought it front and center. Some of what we took to calling "mini-motions," where the matching of movement to music was taken maybe a bit too far, threw us off, but ultimately the wonderful sensuality of the work prevailed.

As "STILL@LIFE" began, we wondered if this might be the most out-of-place piece, because it seemed to be the most classically technical of the three. Turns out no: it was out of place because of the apples. Hard to explain, but the trick of the suddenly appearing apple was genius. Because of my (very quickly formed) opinion on the classical nature of the work, I was a bit taken aback by the theatricality that reared its head after the first movement, but the laughter all around let us know we were just losing our sense of humor. We got it back in time for the men in skirts (hey, in the beginning they were kilts!), and the ending tableau highlighted the theme of joy which pervaded the entire program.

One quick word on endings: During the discussion Johnson mentioned a book by a choreographer (and there’s a reason we’re not journalists, because we didn’t write it down!), in which a chapter is dedicated to the order of choreographing, with the caveat that you should do the ending first. You don’t want to run out of steam and have the piece wilt away. Although none of the choreographers professed to using this chronology when working, the ending moment of each piece was perfect, and fit wonderfully with the tone of the entire work. Which is, of course, the perfect way to leave ‘em wanting more; we are physically restraining ourselves from buying tickets to tonight’s and tomorrow night’s performances. We are aching to see more.

It’s hard to say whether we would have "noticed" these were works by women if it hadn't been advertised as such—and we’re still grappling with the implications of that. It seems that such an observation would necessarily make "male" choreography the norm, for good or evil. But we'll branch out from our deeply rooted feminism and say that it really doesn't matter that much. These works were not excellent because or despite of the gender of the choreographers. The only tragedy is, as was bemoaned in the earlier discussion, that gender might be putting up a barrier to more women taking the plunge, because as these works prove (Celebrate? Rejoice?) there is certainly not any question of quality or ability. It is an interesting question to ponder, what in particular women can bring to the field. But while we think about it, thank god these women are just going out and doing it.

Photo by Alexander Iziliaev

OPENING RECEPTION FOR MICHELLE SOSLAU: THREADS IN THE CURRENT
Why just paint? Why just sculpt? Why just manipulate fabrics and paper to get your point across? Soslau embraces all of these and more in her attempt to engage her audience in the simple questions regarding a piece's origin. A quick look at some of her work reveals textures and palettes that drive entire conversations. Her work will be on display at Cerulean Arts until the end of August, but the receptions are always a good chance to see the first impressions of an audience before they tell their friends about it and people start showing up with preconceptions. Not that word of mouth is necessarily a bad thing, but the conversation is always freshest at an opening.
WHO: Anyone!
WHERE: Cerulean Studio, Ridge Avenue, between Wallace and Mellon Streets (map - c'mon Google, catch up)
WHEN: From 5pm to 9pm
HOW MUCH: Free!

FRONTSIDE FIVE AT JC DOBBS
JC Dobbs was once JC Dobbs, then the Pontiac Grill, and now is JC Dobbs once more. Go watch Frontside Five tonight if you like South Street, punk rock and alcohol. Duh. Nascence and Whiskey Livin' join them.
WHO: 21+
WHERE: JC Dobbs, 3rd and South Streets (map)
WHEN: 7pm
HOW MUCH: $8. Get 'em at the door.

IMPROV COMEDY: THE N CROWD
We will keep recycling this depraved descent into hilarity until someone comes forth to prove that every soul in the city has seen the scintillatingly sordid show. Friday is Alliteration Day! Why? Because we said so. Oh, and it's not exactly sordid, nor is it too depraved. But we stand by the rest of our descriptors!
WHO: Anyone!
WHERE: The Actors' Center, 257 N. 3rd Street (map)
WHEN: 8pm
HOW MUCH: $10. Get 'em here. Note: If you buy them online, RSVP-style, they will only be held until 7:50pm, then they're fair game for buy-em-at-the-door types.

Image via Flickr user bondiben, remixed with Fotoflexer.

• This Chicago Sun-Times article explains the Christian Bale assault incident in a way that sounds very believable, and also makes us feel okay about liking Bale again. Apparently he's had a long-standing feud with his Mom, and just shoved her out of his suite after he realized she and his sister had only come looking for cash. (Via Sarah)
• Get Your War On, the oft hilarious political web comic, is now becoming a regular online video series at 23/6 Video. Check out the trailer here. (Via Debbie)
• Behold the horror that is Groverfield. Yes, it's exactly what you're thinking. (Via Sarah)
• Time for another dose of Comic-Con news. The Disney panel was mostly about Race to Witch Mountain, but also included some surprise footage from Tron 2, which apparently looked slick and cool, and featured Jeff Bridges! And speaking of surprise footage, Hugh Jackman made a suprise appearance with the first footage from X-Men Origins: Wolverine; click through for a description. There's also interesting notes and pics from the Red Sonja panel (okay, it wasn't all about Red Sonja; for instance, there really will be a Machete trilogy). Of course, one of the best things about Comic-Con is the costumes (apparently there are a lot of Jokers). The Movie Blog has its own photos from the event. A number of blogs are noting the embarrassing similarities between the newly released poster for Jennifer's Body, and a promo image for the HBO show True Blood. Joystiq covers Will Wright's keynote. Finally, notes from a panel featuring comic book giants Stan Lee and Grant Morrison.
• Cinematical's news round-up from yesterday includes some fun tidbits.
• The trailer for Marvel Ultimate Alliance 2: Fusion.

• Joystiq thinks a 2D Castlevania game could end up on WiiWare in the relatively near future.
• Telltale Games is putting out a new episodic game called Wallace & Gromit's Grand Adventures.
• We were sure this was going to turn out to be a crazy rumor, but it's actually true: Darren Aronofsky has actually signed to direct a new RoboCop movie for MGM. Also, Brett Ratner has been confirmed as the director of the film adaptation of God of War.
• Warner Brothers and Leonardo DiCaprio's production company Appian Way are planning a new feature-film adaptation of The Twilight Zone.
• Game|Life takes a closer look at how WiiSpeak works.
• Reggie Fils-Aime says Nintendo is taking the storage limitations of the Wii very seriously, and they're working on a range of solutions.
• Another great Star Wars-themed Worth 1000 contest. (Via)
• The Star Wars episode of Robot Chicken got an Emmy nomination, prompting the greenlighting of a sequel scheduled to premiere November 16th, with guest appearances by Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams, and Conan O’Brien.
• Speaking of Star Wars, George Lucas recently confirmed his plan to recast all six episodes in 3-D. Damn it! He's found a way to trick us into paying to see them all again!

Photo from Comic-Con of the Hover Board from Back to the Future by Flickr user greggoconnell

BalletX: Female Choreographers Project
The Wilma Theater (Broad and Spruce Streets)
Through July 27 (times vary)
Tickets online

FRIDAY:
Last Friday: Last Friday featuring author Samara O’Shea and musician Gina Kaz at the Philadelphia Art Alliance (251 S 18th), 7PM. $5

Free R&B: Sounds of R&B series finale featuring Ledisi and Lalah Hathaway at the Great Plaza on Penn’s Landing (Chestnut and Columbus Blvd), 7:30PM. Free

City Hall Film Series: Showing this week: The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert in the courtyard at City Hall, 8:30PM. Free

Part of Illadelph Legends: Future Aesthetics Hip Hop Dance Theater Festival presented by Rennie Harris at the Drake Theater (1512 Spruce), 8PM. $8 (also on Saturday, same time and price, at the Painted Bride, 230 Vine)

SATURDAY:
So Many Trends, So Little Time: Karaoke Gong Show and Guitar Hero Shred-a-Thon (on the movie screen) hosted by Skeletor at the Troc (1003 Arch), 10PM. Free

Interplanetary Puppets: Puppet Uprising and The Missoula Oblongata presents The Last Hurrah of the Clementines at the Philadelphia Shakespeare Festival (2111 Sansom), 8PM. $10 (also on Friday)

Only Thing Better Than Puppets: Hellcat Girls Burlesque show at North Star Bar (2639 Poplar), 9PM. $10

SUNDAY:
Brew-y Brunch: Authors Lew Bryson and Mark Haynie sign copies of their book New Jersey Breweries at Grey Lodge Pub (6235 Frankford), 11AM-2PM. Free (plus the cost of a few brews)

Jazzy Jam: Roger Prieto jam session at Ortlieb's Jazzhaus (847 N 3rd), 8PM. Free

Got a frugal tip? Don't be stingy! Send it here and share the wealth!

Chris and Don. A Love Story
A documentary examining the romantic relationship between writer Christopher Isherwood and painter Don Bachardy. Interviews with Don himself are included, as are personal documents belonging to Isherwood. Critics are giving the film great reviews; they say it's touching and fascinating.
Trailer - Freshness
Showing at: Ritz at the Bourse

CSNY Déjà Vu
This documentary takes a look at Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young's Freedom of Speech 2006 tour, which featured music from Neil Young's controversial Living With War album. The focus is on how the politically charged music affected the audience and the 2006 election season. Reviews are generally pretty good, and obviously it's a must-see if you're a fan of C, S, N, and/or Y.
Trailer - Freshness
Showing at: Ritz at the Bourse

Brideshead Revisited
The latest film adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's acclaimed novel. The story is set in the pre-WWII era and it's about how a young man named Charles Ryder becomes entranced with the noble Marchmain family. Emma Thompson co-stars as Lady Marchmain, and the critics are being mostly celebratory. If you've never read the book, here's a chance to continue to avoid reading it, but learn enough to act like you have!
Trailer - Freshness
Showing at: Ritz Five

Most Likely to Suck: Love Comes Lately
Director Jan Schütte's adaptation of author Isaac Bashevis Singer's short stories is about a character named Max Kohn (Otto Tausig), who's an Australian émigré living in New York City. He's an accomplished author of short stories and spends the majority of his free time with kindred soul Reisele (Rhea Perlman). On a trip to a speaking engagement he begins losing himself in his latest story, getting mixed up in two feverish romances and an unsolved murder, and starting to feel as if his own written word has begun to manifest itself. The film also stars Barbara Hershey as a former student with whom Max shares a mutual attraction. It sounds postmodern and vaguely clever, but perhaps also too clever for its own good. It also sounds like it could be one of those "look how cute it is when the old people get romantic" movies, which are rarely all that cute. We say skip it.
Trailer - Freshness
Showing at: Ritz Five

Most Likely to Rule: Step Brothers
The team from Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (director Adam McKay and co-stars Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly) reunite, with Judd Apatow in the producer's chair, for a film about two ridiculous man-children who start feuding when their single parents fall in love and decide to marry, but ultimately end up best friends. The ads for this one are pretty hilarious, and even the critics like it. Looks like a good option for some dumb fun at the theater this weekend.
Trailer - Freshness
Showing at: UA Riverview, The Bridge

The X-Files: I Want to Believe
This is the movie all geeks are required to see this weekend. It's the second feature film based on Chris Carter's cult TV series about FBI agents Mulder and Scully and their quest to uncover the truth behind occult events. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson both reprise their roles as the agents, with Billy Connolly, Amanda Peet, and, oddly enough, Xzibit also starring. The plot is a closely guarded secret, but word is you don't have to have any prior knowledge of X-Files mythology to follow it. This Phillyist has been an X-Phile from the very beginning of the show, and we certainly plan to go see this film, but even we have to admit that the series finale was one of the worst episodes of a TV show we've ever seen, and the first X-Files movie was pretty mediocre. We want to believe this movie will be better (see what we did there?), but the distressingly low freshness rating is not particularly encouraging.
Trailer - Freshness
Showing at: UA Riverview

Image via SlashFilm

Image Credit: Flickr user Kurt Magoon

Future Screenings: None

The house lights are dark, the last ticket's torn, the festival's over. Here's a wrap-up of some of the last films I checked out. (All of them Netflix-queue-worthy.)

black./womyn
Local director Tiona M. won the "Best Documentary Feature" audience award this year for her film black./womyn, and it was well-deserved. She interviewed approximately fifty African-American women of all ages on a wide variety of subjects, including gender, coming out, marriage, and identity. While clearly shot on a film school budget, the movie sparkles with crisp, creative editing and thought-provoking dialogue. Keep an eye out for her future projects.
Festival rating: Excellent

The Secrets
My favorite movie of the festival was one I almost missed, The Secrets. I'm always curious to see if films have anything new to say about the intersection of religion and sexuality, and this one didn't disappoint. The story of two Jewish seminary women who fall in love while helping a dying neighbor find absolution, the movie tackles redemption, truth, the fluidity of sexual preference, hypocrisy, and connection, all while drawing us in with luminous leads, beautiful camera work and powerful scenes of the joy and rigor of the rituals of Orthodox life. And I won't spoil it, but the ending was pitch-perfect, unexpected, and left everyone in the audience debating afterwards. Not to be missed.
Festival rating: Excellent

Finding Me
Finding Me was a pleasant surprise. From the program ad, I'd assumed it was a pretty typical boy meets boy romance, but it offered a welcomingly fresh take. The leads are sassy and fun (and J'Nara Corbin does a hilarious turn as the obligatory straight female friend), but the movie doesn't shy away from tackling serious subjects like bisexuality and gay prejudice among African-Americans.
Festival rating: Very Good

Pansy Division: Life in a Gay Rock Band
Finally, Pansy Division: Life in a Gay Rock Band is a faithfully detailed chronicle of the life of a group some would say are the seminal act of the queercore genre. The members (including a scarily high rotating number of drummers) are equally as passionate about titillating and challenging their audience, and share some of their road trip adventures from over the years (including a tour opening for Green Day.) Anyone other than a passionate fan might feel the movie goes on a bit too long, but overall, it's a fun romp.
Festival rating: Good

Image Credit: Flickr user pedrosimoes7

Mid-Summer Fest is in Wildwood Crest. Hey! That rhymes. This Phillyist loves the Crest. It's a lot more laid-back than the rest of the island.

Speaking of the Crest, the Sundown Celebrations begin this Friday.

Have we talked about movies on the beach in Wildwood? This weekend it's Dark Knight. You may have heard of it.

Raven-Symone will be at the Wildwood Convention Center on Saturday. Um yeah.

Wanna do something different? The George F. Boyer Historical Museum in Wildwood is a cool place to visit.

Friend in Need Summer Bash is at the Princeton Bar & Grill in Avalon on Sunday.

Cahal Dunne's Grand To Be Irish Show is in Ocean City.

Art in the Park is in West Cape May on Saturday.

Family Fun Weekend is at Historic Cold Spring Village in Cape May on Saturday and Sunday.

Need a reason to swim in the ocean despite the fact that it's freeeezing? The jellyfish are moving to the rivers and bays, according to this Inquirer article.

The Borgata is hosting Aretha Franklin on Friday and Crosby, Stills & Nash on Saturday.

Donna Summer is at Caesars on Friday and Saturday. Paula Deen is also at Caesars on Sunday. We think they're giving away free sticks of butter at her show. Kidding.

Gov't Mule is at the House of Blues on Friday.

Whoopi Goldberg is at Harrah's on Saturday.

Image credit: Flickr user whatsername?

Philebrity wondered whether PostGreen was