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Reviews: music & film
MOVIES
March of the Penguins
G, 84 minutes,
Liberty Hall
1/2
☆☆☆1/2
March of the Penguins is a tale of true love, struggle for survival, murder and suspense. It sounds like a typical summer movie, except this
time it's real. And it's not cheesy, loud or any other adjective used to describe a Jerry Bruckheimer-like movie, (National Treasure, Armageddon, The Rock). But March of the Penguins has heart.
This National Geographic film (don't be scared, it's not like the films you watched in grade school)
tells the story of the emperor penguin; one of the few creatures to have chosen to make its home on the freezing and desolate continent of Antarctica.The film follows these squat, but adorable birds as they leave the ocean and head for a place to meet their mate. A courtship follows and soon an egg hatches. Watching, as the two new parents take turns taking care of their egg could move any one with a pulse. But what I found most compelling was the cinematography; the way the camera zooms in on this eonold ritual feels almost invasive.The film does seem a tad overlong but what movie isn't these days (Ahem, Wedding Crashers)? But this isn't something we have ever seen before and when they throw in a dash of Morgan Freeman narration even if the last line could belong to a Jerry Bruckheimer movie). You've just witnessed a movie actually worthy of your summer time.
MOVIES
Lindsey Ramsey
The Dukes of Hazzard PG-13, 106 minutes, Southwind Theatre
★★★
T h e Dukes of Hazzard tells a simple tale: Bo (Seann William Scott), Luke (Johnny Knoxville), and the General Lee (a car) combine
forces to save Hazzard County from the unlikely stratagems of Boss Hogg (Burt Reynolds, playing him just right).
Of course, the plot is just a showcase for Bo and Luke's good faith efforts to kill themselves, as well as anyone who has the bad luck to be on the same road as the
General Lee. The result plays like a children's adventure film, only with swearing and cleavage.
Most of the cleavage belongs to Jessica Simpson, who gives a serviceable performance as poutlipped Daisy Duke. Contrary to what the previews may have lead you to believe, her role is a small one.
-Kit Fluker
Despite stunt casting, (Simpsor. and Willie Nelson as Uncle Jesse) Hazzard never becomes self-referential. There's a refreshing lack of pop culture references or show-stopping celebrity cameos. Instead, the film passes the time with car crashes, exploding moonshine and two good oil' boys making fools of themselves. The Dukes of Hazzard is enjoyable because it never pretends to be more than it is: an hour and forty-six minute car chase.
MUSIC
Faith Hill
Fireflies
☆☆☆
off those cowgirl boots for some diva-chic heels on 2002's Cry. Likewise, 2005's Fireflies is about as predictable, riding the countrified trends rather than setting them, all in typical Faith fashion.
Lyrically, Hill is in an identity crisis. Is she the disappointed and emotionally distraught housewife of suburbia ("If You Ask," "Stealing Kisses")? Is she the slightly patriotic and politically aware mother ("We've Got Nothing but Love to Prove"), the dreamer
("Fireflies"), or the pre-pubescent twelve-year old girl, pining over lost love by scribbling poems into her diary ("Like We Never Loved At All")? It's a mess, largely due to the fact that Fireflies is the collective work of about twenty different songwriters. The album, much like its predecessors, fails to answer the question; just who is this Faith Hill, and what does she believe?
The "auto-biographical" lead single, "Mississippi Girl," co-written by John Rich (of Big & Rich fame) and Adam Shoenfeld, confirms just about everything we already knew of Hill. She's a down-home southern girl from Star, Miss., who likes to sing and make millions of dollars. It's about as telling as Jennifer Lopez's laughable "Jenny
From the Block," only you believe Hill's version. Not to mention "... girl" is musically decent, with a driving drum and bass guitar intro that sounds even better live.
Hill truly breaks out once, on the Warren brothers' penned "The Lucky One," a fine piece of up-beat, no-worries, hand-clap country-pop, heavy on the sunshine and summertime fizz typical of such songs — songs which generally contain more saccharine sweetness than genuine fun. In this case it works brilliantly and nothing comes as close, though the barn-raisin' stomp of "Dearly Beloved" is darn good fun while it lasts. Disappointingly, it's a case that sums up much of what is here: country-pop songs with just
enough hook and spot-on vocals to sell, though mostly forgettable and hardly filling.
Hill has yet to realize the full potential of her artistry. But those pipes, which have trimmed off the diva-like histrionics of 2002's Cry in favor of a more subtle, southernbellow, just seem to sweeten with age. With Fireflies, Hill delivers her most consistent and countrified work yet and perhaps raises the bar of expectation, leading hopefuls to believe something truly great is in the pipeline. For now, Hill's legions of fans will not be disappointed. Fireflies will sell like hotcakes. And she's just so darn nice, who cares if it does?
-Nick Connell
8. 18.05 Jayplay
17