Love it or hate it, the Twilight franchise is ubiquitous, permeating almost all facets of popular culture. Not since Harry Potter (the comparison ends here, I promise) has a fantasy book series oriented towards young adults inspired such passionate fervor among the masses. Whether one chooses to hop on the bandwagon, the Twilight series is simply something no one can ignore no matter how hard you try. With New Moon, the second installment in the wildly successful saga, director Chris Weitz (About a Boy, Golden Compass) propels the series into a new direction. Whereas the first movie did not quite know what it wanted to be, the filmmakers of New Moon stripped away all of the pretense, creating a movie that is both better than the first film and—gasp!—better than the book.

New Moon finds Bella (Kristen Stewart) and Edward (Robert Pattinson) deep in the throes of love, yet still not able to consummate their relationship. Maybe it’s true what they say: abstinence makes the heart grow fonder. Things soon turn sour, though, when Edward abruptly leaves Bella in the middle of the woods (what a guy) after she gets a paper cut from opening her birthday present. After a montage of spinning cameras and gloomy indie music signifying the passing months, Bella figures out that the only way she can still see Edward (or at least hallucinations of him) is to become an adrenaline junkie.

Enter Jacob (Taylor Lautner), Bella’s childhood pal, who helps Bella satisfy her craving for danger by restoring a pair of beat up motorbikes. However, Bella again finds herself in the thick of things after Jacob reveals that he is a werewolf. The girl cannot catch a break.

New Moon is very much Taylor Lautner’s movie. While Pattinson and Stewart do give more inspired performances than last time out, Lautner’s turn as Jacob provides the heart and soul (and abs) of this film. He breathes fresh life into a character that—in the books—is both dull and irritating. It will be interesting to see how many fans that claim to be “Team Edward” walk out of the theater as members of “Team Jacob.”

Visually, the film is much more dynamic and effective than the first go round as well. Director Christopher Weitz, no stranger to big-budget fantasy movies, stages a couple of red-blooded action sequences that are welcome breaks in the relationship drama. The suits at Summit, the studio behind the franchise, made a sage decision in bringing in Weitz, who directed the lackluster but visually impressive Golden Compass.

Sometimes, the best way to surmount a story's ridiculousness is to blatantly point it out to the audience. The filmmakers of New Moon, and, in particular, screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg, lay the story's inherent silliness bare celebrating it with witty, self-aware dialogue that will make both the indoctrinated and the newcomers smirk. For instance, Bella constantly makes comments as to how buff Jacob has gotten since the events of Twilight, saying things like “Whoa, you’re buff. What are you like sixteen?” Similarly, Bella flies to Italy on Virgin Airlines, a wink and a nod to the series’ reputation as an abstinence fable. Whether you are a fan or a hater (or both), you can’t help but respect the franchise for finally recognizing its audiences and not shying away from its true face: a supernatural fantasy in which incredibly attractive guys compete for the affection of an average-looking girl with no discernible personality of her own.

On the whole, 2009 has seen its fair share of decent horror comedies. Sam Raimi’s Drag Me To Hell and Norwegian film Dead Snow both succeeded in making audiences laugh while scaring the hell out of them. Continuing that trend, director Karyn Kusama (Aeon Flux) and writer Diablo Cody (Juno) bring us Jennifer’s Body, a highly stylized film that is as black as a black comedy can get.

For many, the mere fact that Jennifer’s Body is a horror comedy written by Diablo Cody and starring Megan Fox is a sufficient description for the movie. For those of you who need a little more detail, the story centers around the friendship of Jennifer (Megan Fox), the girl in high school that all the boys want to be with and all the girls want to be, and her nerdy best friend/sidekick Needy (Amanda Seyfried). One night, Jennifer is transformed into a man-eating demon and goes on a killing spree to satiate her new hunger for flesh. To explain how this transformation comes about would spoil a significant point in the movie.

Megan Fox certainly has her detractors, and based on her work in the Transformers films, it is not difficult to see why. Many will inevitably question Fox’s competence as a leading lady. In Jennifer’s Body, however, Fox has the opportunity to play a better-written, more fleshed-out (pun intended) character, and she shines. In fact, Fox pulls off Diablo Cody’s smug humor much better than Ellen Page did as Juno. In a way, Fox, like her character, goes through her own transformation, making a dramatic transition from just another pretty face (okay, a very pretty face) into a capable actress.

When dealing with the metaphor of high school being a literal hell, one cannot help but think about Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Like Buffy, Jennifer’s Body succeeds in taking all the nuances of those formative years and exaggerates them to an almost comically terrifying degree. Watching someone you call your best friend change right before your very eyes can be a daunting, often traumatic experience.
Also like Whedon, Diablo Cody as a certain flair for inserting comedic dialogue into non-comedic scenarios. However, one thing that Whedon was able to do with Buffy that the filmmakers of Jennifer’s Body struggle with is the seamless integration of comedy and horror. Sure, there are some truly frightening scenes throughout Jennifer’s Body, and yes, Cody’s signature witty dialogue makes the transition between the two genres a little smoother; but dialogue alone cannot accomplish this difficult feat.

Jennifer’s Body should (and most likely, will) get the same cult-classic treatment as the Evil Dead films, Shaun of the Dead, and all the other myriad horror comedies. Those films never really pretended to revolutionize cinema, and neither does this one. However, to call this film pure entertainment does not do it justice. As a metaphor for all of the potentially terrifying trappings of adolescence—sexual maturation, friendship, etc.—the film is a winning achievement. With hilarious one-liners and a premise so delicious, the movie is one of the most highly entertaining films of the year.

Grade: A-

Those familiar with Spike Jonze may find it interesting that the director of “Adaptation”—essentially a movie about the difficulties of adapting a work of literature into film—chose to tackle a project like Where The Wild Things Are. With only ten sentences in the whole book, it is no wonder that Maurice Sendak’s beloved children’s fable has been called “unfilmable.” Jonze, along with screenwriter Dave Eggers, makes a valiant effort though, and the result is an incredibly strange and beautiful film that succeeds in capturing the emotional turmoil of approaching adolescence.

The film tells the story of Max, a typical 9-year-old boy who feels misunderstood at home and his search for acceptance in a world he does not full grasp yet. One night, Max runs away from his life, fleeing to a mysterious island filled with even more mysterious creatures. His arrival at the island could not have been timed any better; the creatures that inhabit this strange new world are looking for someone to lead them, while Max desperately longs to feel important.

From there the film evolves into an exceedingly weird—if sometimes incoherent—retooling of The Wizard of Oz. Right about the time Max decides to stay with the Wild Things, the movie struggles with retaining a consistent narrative structure. One scene in particular stands out as being especially strange: noticing that Max is struggling with keeping all of the Wild Things happy, one monster named KW (Lauren Ambrose) takes him to see her friends who end up being two owls that can only communicate through squawking and can only be summoned by pelting them with rocks.

No matter how strange or fantastical things get, though, Jonze somehow manages to keep the film’s footing rooted in the real world, for the most part, treating Max’s inner turbulence as something more than fantasy. In fact, Jonze triumphs in making most of the elements of the film blend together to make the viewer feel as if they are experiencing the world through Max’s eyes. The often-incoherent dialogue, the beautiful and haunting cinematography, and Karen O’s (of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs) wildly simplistic soundtrack all contribute to the authenticity of the inner workings of a child’s mind.

Speaking of the kids, there has been much debate as to whether or not the movie adaptation is suitable for children. While the visuals and the relatable story may appeal to many kids’ fantastical side, it is likely that most children will leave the theater feeling confused and maybe even a bit sad. Unlike Senadak’s book, these Wild Things probably won’t make many children’s hearts sing.
In Adaptation, Brian Cox’s character, in speaking about the ending of a film, says, “The last act makes a film. Wow them in the end and you got a hit. You can have flaws, problems, but wow them in the end, and you’ve got a hit.” Perhaps ironically, the ending of Where the Wild Things Are—which is the most similar to Sendak’s original story—ends up feeling mildly forced and somewhat nonsensical. Max eventually abandons the Wild Things, leaving them in much worse shape than when he first found them, yet they deeply mourn his leaving.

When all is said and done, Jonze’s rendering of Where The Wild Things Are is a poetic, philosophical and aesthetically beautiful film that sometimes struggles with maintaining enough emotional resonance to sustain the film during the many bizarre moments. As a film that realistically depicts the heartbreak and something of being a 9-year-old kid, however, Where the Wild Things

If J.J Abrams’ recent reboot of “Star Trek” and this summer’s breakout hit, “District 9”, mark a return to classic science fiction, than “Surrogates”, the new film starring Bruce Willis, definitely continues that trend. The film’s premise is rife with intrigue, leaving ample room for philosophical ideas and an exploration of the classic battle between man and machine. Unfortunately, the actual film does not deliver on the promises made by such a premise.

Surrogates, based on the graphic novel of the same name by Robert Venditti and Brett Weldele, and directed by Jonathon Mostow, depicts a very near future in which humans are living their lives remotely from the safety of their own homes via robotic surrogates—sexy, physically perfect mechanical representations of themselves. When the first murder since the integration of surrogates occurs, FBI agent Greer (Bruce Willis with hair) begins to unravel a vast conspiracy, abandoning his own surrogate in the process.

Like the far superior “I Robot” and “The Matrix”, and even the more recent “Gamer”, “Surrogates” plays on the fear of our seemingly inevitable over-reliance on technology. In the world of Surrogates, humans use their robotic selves as proxies between themselves and the real world. Anyone familiar with the game Second Life will attest to the realness of this threat. If there is one thing the internet is slowly accomplishing it is the rendering of interpersonal relations impersonal.
However, the film is all concept and no execution. For one thing, there are many gaping plot holes; it is never fully explained why so many people would choose to willingly abandon their lives for a hermetic life of obsolescence, save for a pocket of humans led by a man only known as the Prophet. The Prophet has a secret though, and that secret makes even less sense.

Also, the plot unfolds in an extremely formulaic and predictable way, making it simple to figure out the story’s twists and turns way before they even happen on screen. What could have been such an ambitious sci-fi thriller never really comes to life, hindered by a by-the-numbers plot that fails to resonate emotionally.

Perhaps most frustrating of all, though, is the utterly lifeless acting. Surrogates ultimately falls flat due to a number of factors, not the least of which being Willis’ performance, which is about as lifeless as his surrogate. Willis has always been a kind of deadpan actor, delivering his lines with a cold detachment that made his characters cool in more ways than one. Could it be that his character in Surrogates has been living through a robotic body for too long? Maybe. It wouldn’t be too farfetched, however, to assume that Willis might have been replaced by a surrogate on screen. Maybe the technology is closer than we know.
Grade: C-

Sponsored by the School for University Studies, musicians from the Alan Parsons Project and Indian music ensemble As Kindred Spirits took the stage at Hofstra’s Adams Playhouse last Friday to commemorate the late George Harrison’s impact on the worlds of pop culture and spirituality.

Hosted by Hofstra’s own Joshua Greene, an instructor of Hinduism, “Here Comes The Sun”—which is based on Greene’s biography on Harrison of the same name—also included images and videos detailing the life, music, and ideologies of the quiet Beatle.

Greene, who studied yoga with Harrison in the 70s, employed four world-class musicians to help tell the story of Harrison’s mystical journey through music. The band—which included Godfrey Townsend (guitar), John Montagna (bass), Tommy Williams (Guitar) and Michael Bellusci (Drums)—ran through classic Harrison numbers like “Taxman,” “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and, of course, “Here Comes the Sun.”

As Kindred Spirits, who are rising stars in the world of kirtan and Indian spiritual music provided meditative chanting as well as a stunningly beautiful rendition of “Within You, Without You.”

As music usually does, these songs perfectly depicted the different stages of Harrison’s complex life and his illustrious career.

In 1965, Harrison began to immerse himself in Indian culture, spirituality, and music. Oddly enough, when he first heard the sitar playing of the legendary Ravi Shankar, Harrison felt an unusual familiarity, as if he had heard it before.

The story is that, while George was still in her womb, his mother would listen to Indian music on the radio, Greene said.

Whether one chooses to accept this astonishing story, one cannot deny that Harrison was largely responsible for bringing Hinduism and Indian music into the Western consciousness.

“When you discover something great, your first instinct is to share it with your friends. Harrison decided to share the power of Indian spirituality with the rest of the world,” Greene said.

Although Harrison is most known for his time with The Beatles, it was this commitment to yoga and spirituality, which he believed could improve lives and protect the planet, that set him apart.

“Even though Harrison loved being a member of the biggest pop band of all time, he still felt like there was something more,” Greene said.

Perhaps it was because he felt overshadowed by the Lennon-McCartney dynamic, but Harrison, in a way, embraced the dissolution of the Beatles because it allowed him to grow both as a solo artist and a distinct personality.

In 1971, Harrison made yet another significant contribution to the music world: he became the first musician to conceive of a benefit concert, the Concert For Bangladesh. Organized to spread awareness of the conflict in East Pakistan at the time, the concert featured legendary musicians such as Bob Dylan and Eric Clapton.

Here Comes the Sun has been touring the country for the last three years, playing to sell-out shows across America.

“I can proudly say that ‘Here Comes the Sun’ was by far the biggest event held at Hofstra’s Adams Playhouse on a Friday in November that commemorated the life and times of a Beatle,” Greene said jokingly.

Ben Harper and Relentless7 – White Lies for Dark Times
Michelle Hart

It is said that a tiger can’t change its stripes. While Ben Harper may have employed a different backing band, White Lies for Dark Times sounds exactly like the old Ben Harper. In the span of fifteen years and eight albums, no sign of growth from Harper is evident. Throughout his entire career, Harper has weaved a remarkable tapestry of different music styles including rock, blues, funk, soul, and reggae. More often than not, however, his career reads more like a music appreciation class than a solid and coherent evolution. In attempting to be unpredictable, Harper’s music remains as predictable as ever; he continues to experiment with different genres for each song, crafting music that highlights his Rastafarian-meets-Thom-Yorke-meets gospel vocals over the actual music.
Harper’s newest lineup came about from a long-time friendship between him and guitarist Jason Mozersky from the band Wan Santo Condo, who only produced one album before breaking up. Mozersky and Harper remained friends ever since, and, while Harper was in the studio recording Both Sides of the Gun in 2005, he recruited Mozersky to lay down some guitar tracks. Naturally, this chemistry led to jam sessions, which led to recording sessions, which ultimately led to White Lies for Dark Times four years later.
While his band—Mozersky, drummer Jordan Richardson and bassist Jesse Ingalls—are irrefutably talented, the problem with Relentless7 (why are they called Relentless7 when there are only four members?) is that Harper’s vocals don’t mix well with the garden-variety rock on this or any other of his albums for that matter. To be sure, though, Harper thrives in a live setting. Surely he must be doing something right when he’s playing live, for he plays every single summer festival, every single year. For some reason or another, the same passion he utilizes for his live shows does not translate onto his albums. This problem becomes increasingly clearer with each subsequent album, as more focus is put on rocking. Quite frankly, Harper’s vocals are too soulful to be complimented with raucous rock music.
Indeed, the best cuts of the album are either blues jams or ballads. For instance, the funky blues of “Lay There and Hate Me” and the mournful “Up to You Now” are both passionate and affecting. Similarly, the best song on the album, the acoustic, boot-stomping “Fly One Time” provides Harper’s unique and dramatic voice with the perfect background to shine. Harper is at his best when he is mellow.
Still, this is no different from the rest of Harper’s discography. The best songs on all his previous albums were the slow jams like “Burn One Down” from Fight for Your Mind and “Diamond’s on the Inside” from the album of the same name. What at one time felt so original and unique feels incredibly formulaic and tired. In the aforementioned “Fly One Time”, Harper sings, “I’m caught in between what I can’t leave behind, and what I may never find.” Yeah, that sounds about right. C+