Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Bella's Lullaby....
I guess Robert Pattinson actually plays this in the movie....Talk about talent.
Two more days until Twilight!
Robert Pattinson Jets Out of LAX
He’s been working overtime to promote his upcoming film “Twilight,” and earlier today (November 19) Robert Pattinson was spotted hopping a plane at LAX International Airport.
The “Harry Potter” stud looked a bit disheveled as he made his way through the terminal, sporting a Stolichnaya Vodka t-shirt, dark button-up shirt, black trousers, and black shoes.
And though he regularly has ladies flocking to his side wherever he goes, Robert recently told press that he hasn’t had much luck in the long-term romance department.
“No one else seems to get into a relationship with me. It’s really strange. People like screaming at me. Actually they like screaming at me in relationships as well. No one wants to commit.”
Oh... how sad... I wouldn't scream at you...I might look adoringly into your eyes. A LOT!
REVIEW: Twilight Stars, Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewart.
"Low-Key," isn't the adjective you'd expect to describe this highly anticipated Vampire movie, but of course, there it is.
"Twilight," is a film of somewhat intelligent, well, intelligent strengths, and somehow, the easily avoidable weaknesses, the Adaptation of Stephanie Meyer's phenomenon. (I know of a few weaknesses...1.Robert Pattinson...2.Edward Cullens...3.Robert Pattinson playing Edward Cullens.) They say it's faithful to it's source material, which should please the fans. They say it's also better written then Stephanie Meyer's book, which tends toward froth and fulmination. Whatever that is.
Screen Writer Melissa Rosenberg delineates the cliques and claques from Forks, Washington High School Students, human and other, with a good eye toward actual teeanager dynamics. She tones up her heroine, who was a passive victorian simp...pure fainting-couch matieral.
Director Catherine Hardwicke, (Thirteen, and Lords of Dogtown,) didn't have the means, (money...) or the impulse for the blockbuster machinery. She keeps the scale of most and all things intimate, focusing on the fervent, sexually charged, but doggedly chaste murmurs of her charismatically sullen stars, Kristen Stewart as Bella, the new kid with the Daria vibe and the emotional defense system, and Robert Pattinson, (Cue the Screaming...) As EDWARD CULLEN, the tortured, sensitive vampire with astonishing, fwoopy hair.
Yep, it's the truth, astonishing. The first time Bella accidentally brushes against Edward, she recoils. "Your hand is so cold," she utters. She may as well add, "and your hair is so fwoopy.
Young Bella relocates from hot Arizona to rainy Washington to be with her police chief father (Billy Burke, who seems to be about 10 years older than she is). Unexplained "animal attacks" have beset his quiet corner of the world. The movie wastes no time explaining the unexplained, jumping right in with a blurry forest pursuit involving a spooked deer and its crafty, fleet-footed predator.
The way Edward peers into Bella's soul, and ravishes her with his most unholy gaze, she's like, "zing went the strings of my heart." While he must control his animal urge to suck all her blood, he's a bad guy-good guy, fighting the good fight. He belongs to a "special" vampire sect, as he's a vegetarian Vampire, and snacks on Critters, not humans. So of course, he deserves the bad-boy, good-boy title.
True to Meyer's Mormon beliefs, there is neither hanky nor panky nor anything resembling a third or even a second base between Bella and her dreamboat Edward. At least not in Book number 1.
So where does the movie go? Fall Down? Bring it together?-A simple, but crucial matter of the visual magic. Whenever something fantastic requires straightforward on-screen depiction, "Twilight," to me, looks so wonderful. Hardwicke was right to concentrate on getting the smoldering down between her stars, but the story depends on Bella's (and the audience's) amazement at this strange new world of supernatural feats. If there's a sequel--and there likely will be--here's Job One: Show us, in a striking way, what these undead can do when they're not letting their hair do the fwooping... :)
MPAA rating: PG-13 (for some violence, and a scene of sensuality )Running time: 2:01
Opening: 12:01 a.m. Friday
Starring: Kristen Stewart (Bella Swan);
Robert Pattinson (Edward Cullen);
Billy Burke (Charlie Swan); Peter Facinelli (Dr. Carlisle Cullen)
Directed by: Catherine Hardwicke; written by Melissa Rosenberg, based on the novel by Stephenie Meyer; photographed by Elliot Davis; edited by Nancy Richardson; music by Carter Burwell; produced by Greg Mooradian, Mark Morgan and Wyck Godfrey. A Summit Entertainment release.
Review: 'Twilight' lacks soul???
Picture and Article (though re-written in my words...) by Randy Myers, Contra Costa Times.
How in the hell can Twilight not lack soul? You haven't seen it yet!
"Twilight," aka "I kissed an Abercrombie & Fitch bloodsucker and I liked it," should be slapped with a special parental warning: Drop the kid off at the cineplex, then flee like a vampire dreading daylight.
Yes, some may say that of course the best-selling novel won't be anywhere near close to the movie. Be prepared for 2 hours of ear-piercing squeals whenever a pretty boy appears, and to giggle at the surround-sound sighs when the love-bitten Bella (Kristen Stewart) and the love-biter Edward (Robert Pattinson) first smooch.
Let's be fair, thanfully, "Twilight," isn't intended for adults, it's geared for a different, more younger generation. He says that Twilight isn't a good movie. (Randy Myers, Contra Costa Times.)
Let's look at the characters....
There's lonely, mildly depressed heroine Bella, who relocates from Sunny, hot Arizona to Rainy, cold Forks Washington so she can live with her police officer Charlie Swan, played by Billy Burke.
Then there's Edward, the mysterious ash-white vampire with chiseled cheekbones, smoldering eyes and the best hair stylist in the Northwest, making any girl swoon, and fall head over heels for this mysterious guy.
There's also Jacob Black, played by Taylor Lautner, a strapping young lad with wolflike tendencies, long raven hair and a killer smile. (Don't dump the vamp, go for Edward, girl!) And — deployed almost like an afterthought — there are the underdeveloped villains, a trio of vampires who resemble Ziggy Stardust rejects in Renaissance Faire outfits. These wannabe baddies hardly make your blood curdle, but they sure are cute.
Pattinson, quite good as Cedric in "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," poses, preens and pouts, while reciting his lines with the odd, stilted cadence of Christopher Walken.
Stewart ("Into the Wild") fares slightly better, except for an embarrassingly bad crying jag.
A heart does beat in "Twilight," but it's only faintly heard, and it's buried among the montage shots and cheesy special effects. (HUH???)
Hardwicke and screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg ("Step Up") unwisely barrel through what should have been the most intimate part of the movie — the first time Edward spends a chaste night in Bella's room. By sidestepping this pivotal sequence, we're robbed of what we really came for — watching and hearing these lovebirds reveal themselves to each other.
Without that, the audience is left with just a whole lot of pretty and not enough soul. Not entirely a bad thing, but you can get that fix by thumbing through an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue.
Monday, November 17, 2008
A new Celeb Reality story...I'm trying my hardest to come up with them.....
“Welcome, Miss Andris, how are you?” Simon asked, as I walked in.
“I’m good, thank you, how are you?” I asked.
“Good, tell us a little about you.” Simon said.
“Okay, I was raised in Oregon, I went to college, and majored in music, decided that I wanted to try something new, and try out here,” I said.
“Okay, what are you going to sing for us today?” Randy asked.
“Praying for time by Carrie Underwood.”
“Who is someone you look up to when singing?” Paula asked.
“I really look up to Reba, Carrie Underwood and Martina McBride.” I said, looking to them.
“Okay, you have the floor. Just so you know, we are having everyone do the whole song, unless we stop you.” Simon said. I smiled and nodded.
“These are the days of the open hand, they will not be the last, look around now, these are the days of the beggars and the choosers. This is the year of the hungry man, whose place is in the past. Hand in hand, with ignorance and legitimate excuses. The Rich declare themselves poor, and most of us are not sure, if we have too much but we’ll take our chances, ‘cause god stopped keeping score. I guess somewhere along the way, he must have let us all out to play, and turned his back, and all god’s children crept out the back door. And it’s hard to love, there’s so much to hate. Hanging on to hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say it’s much too late, Oh maybe we should all be praying for time. This is the year of the empty hand, oh you hold onto what you can, and charity is a coat you wear twice a year. These are the days of the guilty man, the television takes a stand, and you find that what was over there, is over here. So you scream from behind your door. Say what’s mine is mine, and not yours. I may have too much, but I’ll take my chances ‘cause god stopped keeping score. And you’ll cling to the things they sold you, did you cover your eyes when they told you, that he can’t come back, ‘cause he has no children to come back for. And it’s hard to love, when there’s so much to hate, and hanging onto hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say its much, much too late, mm well maybe we should be praying for time.”
“Wow, Uh, Randy, what have you to say, to this beautiful girl?” Simon asked.
“Wow, Brittany, honey, you have a voice box like none other. How long have you been singing?” Randy asked.
“Since I was about seven or eight.” I said.
“Wow, you’ve got such a wonderful voice, it seems to me that you’re the kind of person that can sing a lot of different things, is that the case?” he asked.
“I try my hardest to learn new songs, and be open to new songs, but I really love country music, I was raised in a small town, on a farm.” I said.
“Where was that?” he asked. “A place called Sisters, Oregon.” I said.
“Okay, can you sing us another song, we want to see how flexible your voice is.” Randy said.
“What would you like me to sing?”
“I hate this part, by The Pussycat Dolls, sing till we stop you.” He said looking to me and smiling.
“ We’re driving slowly, through the snow on fifth avenue and right now the radio is all that we can hear. Man we ain’t talked since we left, it’s so overdue, it’s cold outside, but between us it’s worse in here. The world slows down but my heart beats fast right now, I know this is the part where the end starts. I can’t take it any longer, thought that we were stronger, all we do is linger. Slipping through our fingers. I don’t want to try now. All that’s left is goodbye to find a way that I can tell you. I hate this part right here, I hate this part right here. I just can’t take your tears, I hate this part right here. Every day seven takes of the same old scene, seems we’re bound by the laws of the same routine, gotta talk you no ‘fore we go to sleep, but we will sleep once I tell you what’s hurting me. The world slows down but my heart beats fast right now, I know this is the part where the end starts. I can’t take it any longer, thought that we were stronger, all we do is linger. Slipping through our fingers. I don’t want to try now. All that’s left is goodbye to find a way that I can tell you. I hate this part right here, I hate this part right here…” “Stop, thank you so much Britannee that was amazing, I love that song more than anything, Simon, yes or no?”
“One hundred and fifty percent yes,” he said smiling.
“Randy?”
“Hell, yeah, I love your voice,” he said, making me blush.
“Well, I am hundred and sixty million percent sure, yes, you’re going to Hollywood Britannee,” she said. I didn’t know what to say, but I soon made my way out to my best friend, Grant, who had also made it to Hollywood.
“Alright, next up, singing Carrie Underwood’s Praying for time, is Miss Britannee Andris.” Ryan said smiling, the cameras moved to me on the stage, sitting on a stool, in a nice gown, ready with a microphone.
“These are the days of the open hand, they will not be the last, look around now, these are the days of the beggars and the choosers. This is the year of the hungry man, whose place is in the past. Hand in hand, with ignorance and legitimate excuses. The Rich declare themselves poor, and most of us are not sure, if we have too much but we’ll take our chances, ‘cause god stopped keeping score. I guess somewhere along the way, he must have let us all out to play, and turned his back, and all god’s children crept out the back door. And it’s hard to love, there’s so much to hate. Hanging on to hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say it’s much too late, Oh maybe we should all be praying for time. This is the year of the empty hand, oh you hold onto what you can, and charity is a coat you wear twice a year. These are the days of the guilty man, the television takes a stand, and you find that what was over there, is over here. So you scream from behind your door. Say what’s mine is mine, and not yours. I may have too much, but I’ll take my chances ‘cause god stopped keeping score. And you’ll cling to the things they sold you, did you cover your eyes when they told you, that he can’t come back, ‘cause he has no children to come back for. And it’s hard to love, when there’s so much to hate, and hanging onto hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say its much, much too late, mm well maybe we should be praying for time.” The crowd went wild, and I felt in heaven.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Grant Brock, and Britannee Andris singing, Every other weekend.” Ryan said.
ME: “Every other Friday, it’s toys and clothes and backpacks. Is everybody in, okay, let’s go see dad. Same time in the same spot, corner of the same old parking lot, half the hugs and kisses there are always sad. We trade a couple words, and looks, and kids again, every other weekend.” GRANT: “Every other weekend, very few exceptions, I pick up the love we made in both my arms, It’s movies on the sofa, grilled cheese and cut the crust off. That’s not the way mom makes it, daddy, breaks my heart. I miss everything I use to have with her again, every other weekend. I can’t tell her I love her,”
ME: “I can’t tell him I love him.”
BOTH: “Cause there’s too many questions and years in the car.”
ME: “So I don’t tell him I miss him,”
GRANT: “I don’t tell her I need her.”
BOTH: “She’s (he’s) over me that’s where we are.”
GRANT: “So we’re as close as we may ever be again, every other weekend.”
ME: “Every other Saturday, first thing in the morning, I turn the TV on to make the quiet go away. I know why, but I don’t know why, we ever let this happen. Fallin’ for forever was a big mistake. There’s so much not to do, and all day not to do it in, every other weekend.”
GRANT: “Every other Sunday, I empty out my backseat, while my children hug their mother in the parking lot. We don’t touch, we don’t talk much, maybe goodbye to each other. As she drives away with every piece of heart I got, I re-convince myself we did the right thing, Every other weekend. I can’t tell her I love her,”
ME: “I can’t tell him I love him”
BOTH: “’Cause there’s too many questions and years in the car.”
ME: “So I don’t tell him I miss him,”
GRANT: “I don’t tell her I need her.”
BOTH: “She’s (he’s) over me that’s where we are. We’re as close as we may ever be again, Every other weekend.”
GRANT: “Yeah, for fifteen minutes, We’re a family again.” ME: “God, I wish that he was still with me again,”
BOTH: “Every other weekend.”
It was nearing last few contestants, no the last two contestants, and it was between me and Grant, and who would win. I was so nervous, but I had a lot of votes with me, always being the first to be told that I would be staying. I was getting more and more nervous. They put me in a gorgeous gown, and Grant in the most handsome tux I had ever seen, and we performed the night away. The last moments where what killed me. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Grant, Britannee, the moment, that you’ve probably been waiting, dreading, and hoping would come. 2009’s American Idol, is, Britannee Andris!” he said. I didn’t know what was happening, the crowd had erupted into screams, and confetti was flying everywhere. Grant took me and hugged me tightly.
“Welcome, we’ve got today on my show, Miss Britannee Andris, American Idol of 2009, how are you feeling?” she asked, as the crowd was dying down. “Oh, I’m still floating, not really here. It’s amazing, how wonderful, I feel, I’d never thought that Grant would lose. He is such a great singer, musician. I kept second guessing myself. I guess.” “How did it feel to go up against your best friend in the top two?” she asked. “It was really hard, because it was something we both wanted, but we wanted for each other. He’s got such great talent, that in a way I really wanted him to have the title, but since I know he’d do great anywhere, and he’ll get signed on to some studio, I’m not as worried.”
Soon....
Syesha Mercado & Seal-Waiting For You
“I’m good, thank you, how are you?” I asked.
“Good, tell us a little about you.” Simon said.
“Okay, I was raised in Oregon, I went to college, and majored in music, decided that I wanted to try something new, and try out here,” I said.
“Okay, what are you going to sing for us today?” Randy asked.
“Praying for time by Carrie Underwood.”
“Who is someone you look up to when singing?” Paula asked.
“I really look up to Reba, Carrie Underwood and Martina McBride.” I said, looking to them.
“Okay, you have the floor. Just so you know, we are having everyone do the whole song, unless we stop you.” Simon said. I smiled and nodded.
“These are the days of the open hand, they will not be the last, look around now, these are the days of the beggars and the choosers. This is the year of the hungry man, whose place is in the past. Hand in hand, with ignorance and legitimate excuses. The Rich declare themselves poor, and most of us are not sure, if we have too much but we’ll take our chances, ‘cause god stopped keeping score. I guess somewhere along the way, he must have let us all out to play, and turned his back, and all god’s children crept out the back door. And it’s hard to love, there’s so much to hate. Hanging on to hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say it’s much too late, Oh maybe we should all be praying for time. This is the year of the empty hand, oh you hold onto what you can, and charity is a coat you wear twice a year. These are the days of the guilty man, the television takes a stand, and you find that what was over there, is over here. So you scream from behind your door. Say what’s mine is mine, and not yours. I may have too much, but I’ll take my chances ‘cause god stopped keeping score. And you’ll cling to the things they sold you, did you cover your eyes when they told you, that he can’t come back, ‘cause he has no children to come back for. And it’s hard to love, when there’s so much to hate, and hanging onto hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say its much, much too late, mm well maybe we should be praying for time.”
“Wow, Uh, Randy, what have you to say, to this beautiful girl?” Simon asked.
“Wow, Brittany, honey, you have a voice box like none other. How long have you been singing?” Randy asked.
“Since I was about seven or eight.” I said.
“Wow, you’ve got such a wonderful voice, it seems to me that you’re the kind of person that can sing a lot of different things, is that the case?” he asked.
“I try my hardest to learn new songs, and be open to new songs, but I really love country music, I was raised in a small town, on a farm.” I said.
“Where was that?” he asked. “A place called Sisters, Oregon.” I said.
“Okay, can you sing us another song, we want to see how flexible your voice is.” Randy said.
“What would you like me to sing?”
“I hate this part, by The Pussycat Dolls, sing till we stop you.” He said looking to me and smiling.
“ We’re driving slowly, through the snow on fifth avenue and right now the radio is all that we can hear. Man we ain’t talked since we left, it’s so overdue, it’s cold outside, but between us it’s worse in here. The world slows down but my heart beats fast right now, I know this is the part where the end starts. I can’t take it any longer, thought that we were stronger, all we do is linger. Slipping through our fingers. I don’t want to try now. All that’s left is goodbye to find a way that I can tell you. I hate this part right here, I hate this part right here. I just can’t take your tears, I hate this part right here. Every day seven takes of the same old scene, seems we’re bound by the laws of the same routine, gotta talk you no ‘fore we go to sleep, but we will sleep once I tell you what’s hurting me. The world slows down but my heart beats fast right now, I know this is the part where the end starts. I can’t take it any longer, thought that we were stronger, all we do is linger. Slipping through our fingers. I don’t want to try now. All that’s left is goodbye to find a way that I can tell you. I hate this part right here, I hate this part right here…” “Stop, thank you so much Britannee that was amazing, I love that song more than anything, Simon, yes or no?”
“One hundred and fifty percent yes,” he said smiling.
“Randy?”
“Hell, yeah, I love your voice,” he said, making me blush.
“Well, I am hundred and sixty million percent sure, yes, you’re going to Hollywood Britannee,” she said. I didn’t know what to say, but I soon made my way out to my best friend, Grant, who had also made it to Hollywood.
“Alright, next up, singing Carrie Underwood’s Praying for time, is Miss Britannee Andris.” Ryan said smiling, the cameras moved to me on the stage, sitting on a stool, in a nice gown, ready with a microphone.
“These are the days of the open hand, they will not be the last, look around now, these are the days of the beggars and the choosers. This is the year of the hungry man, whose place is in the past. Hand in hand, with ignorance and legitimate excuses. The Rich declare themselves poor, and most of us are not sure, if we have too much but we’ll take our chances, ‘cause god stopped keeping score. I guess somewhere along the way, he must have let us all out to play, and turned his back, and all god’s children crept out the back door. And it’s hard to love, there’s so much to hate. Hanging on to hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say it’s much too late, Oh maybe we should all be praying for time. This is the year of the empty hand, oh you hold onto what you can, and charity is a coat you wear twice a year. These are the days of the guilty man, the television takes a stand, and you find that what was over there, is over here. So you scream from behind your door. Say what’s mine is mine, and not yours. I may have too much, but I’ll take my chances ‘cause god stopped keeping score. And you’ll cling to the things they sold you, did you cover your eyes when they told you, that he can’t come back, ‘cause he has no children to come back for. And it’s hard to love, when there’s so much to hate, and hanging onto hope, when there is no hope to speak of. And the wounded skies above, say its much, much too late, mm well maybe we should be praying for time.” The crowd went wild, and I felt in heaven.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Grant Brock, and Britannee Andris singing, Every other weekend.” Ryan said.
ME: “Every other Friday, it’s toys and clothes and backpacks. Is everybody in, okay, let’s go see dad. Same time in the same spot, corner of the same old parking lot, half the hugs and kisses there are always sad. We trade a couple words, and looks, and kids again, every other weekend.” GRANT: “Every other weekend, very few exceptions, I pick up the love we made in both my arms, It’s movies on the sofa, grilled cheese and cut the crust off. That’s not the way mom makes it, daddy, breaks my heart. I miss everything I use to have with her again, every other weekend. I can’t tell her I love her,”
ME: “I can’t tell him I love him.”
BOTH: “Cause there’s too many questions and years in the car.”
ME: “So I don’t tell him I miss him,”
GRANT: “I don’t tell her I need her.”
BOTH: “She’s (he’s) over me that’s where we are.”
GRANT: “So we’re as close as we may ever be again, every other weekend.”
ME: “Every other Saturday, first thing in the morning, I turn the TV on to make the quiet go away. I know why, but I don’t know why, we ever let this happen. Fallin’ for forever was a big mistake. There’s so much not to do, and all day not to do it in, every other weekend.”
GRANT: “Every other Sunday, I empty out my backseat, while my children hug their mother in the parking lot. We don’t touch, we don’t talk much, maybe goodbye to each other. As she drives away with every piece of heart I got, I re-convince myself we did the right thing, Every other weekend. I can’t tell her I love her,”
ME: “I can’t tell him I love him”
BOTH: “’Cause there’s too many questions and years in the car.”
ME: “So I don’t tell him I miss him,”
GRANT: “I don’t tell her I need her.”
BOTH: “She’s (he’s) over me that’s where we are. We’re as close as we may ever be again, Every other weekend.”
GRANT: “Yeah, for fifteen minutes, We’re a family again.” ME: “God, I wish that he was still with me again,”
BOTH: “Every other weekend.”
It was nearing last few contestants, no the last two contestants, and it was between me and Grant, and who would win. I was so nervous, but I had a lot of votes with me, always being the first to be told that I would be staying. I was getting more and more nervous. They put me in a gorgeous gown, and Grant in the most handsome tux I had ever seen, and we performed the night away. The last moments where what killed me. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Grant, Britannee, the moment, that you’ve probably been waiting, dreading, and hoping would come. 2009’s American Idol, is, Britannee Andris!” he said. I didn’t know what was happening, the crowd had erupted into screams, and confetti was flying everywhere. Grant took me and hugged me tightly.
“Welcome, we’ve got today on my show, Miss Britannee Andris, American Idol of 2009, how are you feeling?” she asked, as the crowd was dying down. “Oh, I’m still floating, not really here. It’s amazing, how wonderful, I feel, I’d never thought that Grant would lose. He is such a great singer, musician. I kept second guessing myself. I guess.” “How did it feel to go up against your best friend in the top two?” she asked. “It was really hard, because it was something we both wanted, but we wanted for each other. He’s got such great talent, that in a way I really wanted him to have the title, but since I know he’d do great anywhere, and he’ll get signed on to some studio, I’m not as worried.”
Soon....
Syesha Mercado & Seal-Waiting For You
Friday, November 14, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
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