James versus The Apocalypse By Bill Browning Hi! This is River City movie critic, and regular contributor to The James and Jennifer Project, Bilfon. Kids, if you are looking for a summer movie that will make you run the gamut, from tittering to full-on guffaws, look no further than Seth Rogen’s and Evan Goldberg’s This is the End. Turn off your cellphones and settle back, because this film, currently in a theater near you, has everything! Pistols, raging fires, well-endowed demons, Seth Rogen, a chocolate bar, GARDEN GNOMES! (Bilfon puts hands up, covers his mouth.) And if that’s not enough for you, it’s got Craig Robinson, car crashes, sinkholes, a bootylicious Rihanna, and yes yes yes yes yes JAMES FRANCO! Your eyes will feast on brutal beheadings, demon possessions, THE HORSE FROM THE CRAIG FERGUSON SHOW! (Here Bilfon does some shoulder shaking and giggling.) And going for a piss or popcorn at any point during this movie could result in you missing a molested Jonah Hill, rapturous blue lights, low-tech porn, a coked out Michael Cera, Segways, angels, sleepovers, Danny McBride, a Jonah Hill-hating Jay Baruchel, dick art, the Backstreet Boys, an ax-wielding Emma Watson, OBAMA IN PAJAMAS! (Bilfon’s eyebrows shoot up for dramatic effect.) To read more film reviews on the Great Works of James Franco and Jennifer Aniston, visit The James & Jennifer Project.
Invisible It’s 1984, and I’m driving down Third Street. Danny, comfortably situated in the back seat of my new Olds Derby Calaise, is almost 9 years old. Right now he’s perplexing both me and his teachers by refusing to write anything down on paper. The child feels, if things are for sure in your head, then there’s just no point in writing them down. He thinks you should be able to just say answers out loud. I glance over at Barbra, my daughter who’ll soon turn 5, seated next to me. She’s had a big day and is noticeably tired. I have to have her back by 6:00 on Sunday evenings, her mother insists. … “No Billy, not 6:01. 6:00 sharp. Understand Billy?” … I understand perfectly. After making a left turn, I drive by Our Lady Of Mount Carmel Church where I once coached a mixed softball team called the Misfits. I feel sad. Another weekend’s closing too soon. I glance back at Danny in my rear view mirror. He has an empty notebook opened on his lap. Hours ago I gave him an assignment, or made a sort of deal with him, and told him if he would put ten things down on paper he wants I’d pick one and buy it for him. I love Danny and Barbra so much I could bust. I love my Olds, too. The first car I’ve ever owned that someone else didn’t own first. It’s sharp. A color not exactly pink and not exactly brown […]
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