TROPIC THUNDER NOW AVAILABLE

TROPIC THUNDER NOW AVAILABLE ONLINE

HERE IS THE SUMMARY FOR THE MOVIE TROPIC THUNDER FROM IMDB

Through a series of freak occurrences, a group of actors shooting a big-budget war movie are forced to become the soldiers they are portraying.

HERE IS A REVIEW FOR THE MOVIE TROPIC THUNDER FROM DVDTALK

In writer/director/star Ben Stiller's new comedy, Tropic Thunder, Robert Downey Jr., playing Russell Crowe-like actor Kirk Lazarus, a bad-boy Australian thespian who had his skin surgically darkened as part of his method in preparation for the role of an African American solider in the Vietnam War, describes his own complicated situation by saying, "I'm playing the dude who plays a dude who is disguised as another dude." Perplexing, self-referential, and yet strangely accurate. They could have adapted this line for the poster: Tropic Thunder is the movie about a movie that's really another movie.

Downey's Lazarus is one of the leading serious actors of this flick's fictional Hollywood, and he is joining fading action star Tugg Speedman (Stiller) and low-brow comedian Jeff Portnoy (Jack Black) in Vietnam to shoot a multi-million-dollar adaptation of a book called Tropic Thunder, the story of Four Leaf Tayback (Nick Nolte), a vet who went through hell and lived to tell about it. In a case of art imitating life, this production starts to sink into hell itself, Apocalypse Now! style. This leads Tayback and the neophyte British director (Steve Coogan) at the helm to take drastic measures. They plan to force that imitation of life to be more than imitation, dropping their cast--which also includes hip-hop soda impresario (say it out loud) Alpa Cino (Brandon T. Jackson) and gawky newcomer Kevin Sandusky (Jay Baruchel)--into the middle of the jungle, where hidden cameras will capture them trekking through the bush while avoiding the wicked firepower doled out by crazy munitions man Cody (Danny McBride, stealing another show a mere week after Pineapple Express).

Only problem is, the attempt to use reality to create the illusion of "war is hell" ends up getting a little too real. Stranded on their own, and trespassing across the poppy fields of the local drug cartel, the actors are now caught in an actual conflict that they still think is special effects set-up, digging themselves deeper and deeper into trouble before actually having to man up and take on the bad guys all on their own.

It's a crazy concept, and one that doubles back on itself so much, Tropic Thunder could have become a knotted mess had the wrong cooks been let into the kitchen. Instead, Stiller, who co-wrote the screenplay with actor Justin Theroux (Mulholland Drive and Etan Coen (who wrote Idiocracy, and is not to be mistaken for a Coen Brother), has a firm grasp on what he is trying to do here, and somehow he keeps it all straight. At times, he veers off on a silly Stiller tangent, going more towards a Zoolander-style spoof than incisive satire, including an instantaneous switch over to "jungle crazy" when his character is stranded on his own or the long dialogue sequences about method acting that may be a little too "inside baseball" for anyone who hasn't sat through multiple seasons of Inside the Actor's Studio, but he always manages to jump back before going off the rails.

That same attention to detail that could overwhelm the picture also works in the movie's favor, making Tropic Thunder a sort of compatriot to films like Hot Fuzz and Pineapple Express. These are movies about the love of the cheesy action films many of us grew up on, using the comedies as a disguise to get away with making their own version of that thing they so adore. It's an endeavor that requires a nerdy obsessiveness. Even the names have some importance. Downey plays Lazarus playing Osiris, the man who rose from the dead playing the Egyptian god of the dead, with a character arc about rediscovering one's true identity. It's like a comparative literature grad student decided to rewrite Commando. (Of course, there are also guys named "Cockburn" and "Pecker," so it's not all about the classics.)

Fans of Ben Stiller's old TV show know what a crafty eye he has for over-the-top parody. (Remember Eddie Munster starring in Cape Fear?) The best stuff in Tropic Thunder is when he goes after the movie industry with both guns, skewering such Hollywood conventions as the "magical retard" and other Oscar-baiting tactics. Both Robert Downey Jr. and Jack Black are having fun at the expense of their own self-image. Black's Jeff Portnoy is a kind of cross between Adam Sandler and Eddie Murphy, with maybe a little of Andy Dick's drug mania tossed in. (Or even Downey's.) To hear the man who made Nacho Libre bemoaning that the laughter he inspires doesn't come with more respect is seasoned with a kind of delicious irony. So, too, does Downey's speech about being found in a cardboard box pretending he's Neil Armstrong after filming a biopic about the astronaut strike pretty close to the actor's home. His performance as the delusional thespian who has buried himself so deep he's forgotten his own identity is nothing short of astounding. Stiller even let's the racial debate flare between Lazarus and Alpa Cino, who also adds to the movie's themes by having his own secrets.

In addition to the leads, Tropic Thunder is sure to draw a lot of attention for its host of cameos. Stiller peppers his film with people like Maria Menounos and Jon Voight playing themselves, but he also fills supporting roles with some surprising faces. Matthew McConaughey actually manages to play slimy convincingly as Tugg Speedman's agent, but the true surprise is Tom Cruise letting out his silly side as billionaire studio chief Les Grossman. Sporting a beard, bald cap, and oddly disproportionate fat suit, Cruise recaptures some of that lethal energy he brought to P.T. Anderson's Magnolia and then cuts loose with it, clearly having a ball ranting and raving from underneath the ridiculous costume. Normally, it's the kind of outfit Stiller would put himself in, but for once the actor sticks to just being who he is. It's a smart move, especially after the shots Tropic Thunder takes at Eddie Murphy for The Klumps.

All in all, Tropic Thunder isn't an entirely consistent comedy. I laughed a lot, but I also did have stretches where I wasn't laughing much at all. I wasn't bored, per se, but there are some tonal divots that maybe try too hard to add in the smarts or Apatow-like pathos. When what you're making fun of is dumb through and through, you don't have to work that hard to prove you're brighter than the source material. Thankfully, Tropic Thunder really hits its stride in the final third, and it's nonstop yuks all the way to the ingenious closing credits. Factoring in that the movie has one of the best cold opens I've ever seen, then that means Tropic Thunder finishes just as strong as it began, and that's really saying something.

Jamie S. Rich is a novelist and comic book writer. His current novel is entitled Have You Seen the Horizon Lately? and was released by Oni Press in the summer of 2007. It follows up on both of his successful books from 2006, the pop-culture hit The Everlasting, and his original graphic novel with Joëlle Jones, 12 Reasons Why I Love Her. Rich is currently writing the ongoing independent comic book series Love the Way You Love.

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THE WOMEN NOW AVAILABLE

Here is the summary for the movie The Women from imdb

The story centers on a group of gossipy, high-society women who spend their days at the beauty salon and haunting fashion shows. The sweet, happily-wedded Mary Haines finds her marriage in trouble when shop girl Crystal Allen gets her hooks into Mary's man. Naturally, this situation becomes the hot talk amongst Mary's catty friends, especially the scandalmonger Sylvia Fowler, who has little room to talk - she finds herself on a train to Reno and headed for divorce right after Mary. Written by Anonymous

Here is a review for the movie The Women from dvdtalk

With this impressive collection of actresses and production duties handled by the renowned Diane English, it's a crushing disappointment to find the latest update of the famed play "The Women" a defanged, broad ode to one-dimensional empowerment. The performances shine, but the rest of this mediocre travelogue of feminine foibles is given the blunt-force treatment, draining the material of deserved big-screen acidity.

When gossip concerning her husband's infidelity leads to Mary's (Meg Ryan) doorstep, she panics, unable to process this violation of trust during a period of time where she also loses her job and the admiration of her teen daughter. Coming to the rescue are her friends, fashion magazine editor Sylvia (Annette Bening), full-time mom Edith (Debra Messing), and full-time lesbian Miriam (Jada Pinkett Smith), not to mention further support from housekeeper Maggie (Cloris Leachman) and mother Catherine (Candice Bergen). While struggling with their own disappointments in life, the ladies team up to help Mary through this difficult time, turning their venom on Crystal (Eva Mendes, vamping it up), the formidable mistress who won't back down from the affair.

An amalgamation of the 1936 play by Clare Boothe Luce and the classic 1939 feature film from director George Cukor, this modern take on age-old questions of loyalty and the toxicity of cattiness is hoping to compete in a "Sex and the City" world of women dominated by labels, liquor, and lascivious behavior. From the outside, English, the creator of the iconic television comedy "Murphy Brown," is the perfect match for the heady material. After all, who better to tackle a tale of female worry with an all-female cast (only one man is allowed here) than a lauded professional with extensive experience probing the female mind?

As inspiring as her gifts are, English is lacking a deep-seated knowledge of motion picture timing and execution. "The Women" feels slack and pushy with its themes, written more as a sitcom than as an epic narrative of companionship and Manhattan-bred, high-society anxiety. English loves her characters, each woman representing a certain shade of femininity, but there's little consistency to the story, which springs back and forth from a screwball comedy to weighty drama, exploring the difficulty of marriage maintenance, the dangerous self-esteem issues facing women today, and the thin-ice dance of lifelong bonding. Meeting the demands of the Cukor film, her own modernization subplots, and the need to invent a world for these characters, distracts English from an organized screenplay, which often resorts to light sermonizing to cross off the bullet points she wants to cover. It leaves little room for appealing tartness to stroll in and lift the picture off the ground.

While not written as a free-for-all acting battle royal, English casts her feature beautifully, with every member of the ensemble at least attempting to muscle their way into the action. Actresses like Pinkett Smith try too hard to make an impression (her slouched lesbo stance screams incompetence), while stars such as Ryan and Bening carefully ace their roles. Playing the fashion queen fearing her age is leaving her ego vulnerable to a youthful revolt at her magazine, Bening seems almost a caricature of the Samantha Jones mentality at first (English introduces the character comedically as a Saks Fifth Avenue cyborg, complete with robot vision), but the performance relaxes during the film, and Bening plays the comedy and soul with generous quirk.

Meg Ryan is the unofficial star of "Women," taking on the sympathy of the script while assuming the audience's role as the confused spectator to emotional disaster. Here's a phrase I haven't used since the 1990s: Ryan delivers a knockout performance. She hits both areas of physical comedy and domestic distress with lovely timing she hasn't embraced in years. English deserves kudos for this unexpected note of casting success.

Unlike the diseased nonsense of "Sex and the City," "The Women" has a few important issues it wants to discuss between moments of females getting gushy over handbags and holding low opinions of men. That counts for something in this newly-minted genre. Still, English isn't confident behind the camera, and while her picture sparkles with New York majesty, fashion accessories, and a game cast, "The Women" never achieves a healthy level of playfulness or profundity, trapped in a void of mediocrity no quantity of star-powered estrogen can salvage.

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(PRE RELEASE) DISNEY'S TINKERBELL NOW AVAILABLE

Here is the summary for the movie Tinkerbell from imdb

Enter the magical world of fairies and meet the enchanting creatures of Pixie Hollow, who "nurture nature" and bring about the change of the seasons. Changing the colors of the leaves, moving a sunbeam to melt snow, waking animals from their winter slumber, or giving a patch of sproutlings a sprinkle of water are all within the realm of these seasonal specialists. Tinker Bell thinks her fairy talent as a "tinker" isn't as special or important as the other fairies' talents. But when Tink tries to change who she is, she creates nothing but disaster! With encouragement from her friends Rosetta, Silvermist, Fawn and Iridessa, Tink learns the key to solving her problems lies in her unique tinker abilities and discovers that when shes true to herself, magical things can happen.

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BODY OF LIES NOW AVAILABLE

Here is the summary for the movie Body of Lies from imdb

Roger Ferris, Leonardo DiCaprio, is a CIA covert operative working in Jordan searching for terrorists who have been bombing civilian targets. Ferris uncovers information on the Islamist mastermind Al-Saleem (Alon Aboutboul). He devises a plan to infiltrate Al-Saleem's terrorist network with the help of his boss back in Langley, Ed Hoffman (Russell Crowe). Ferris enlists the help of the Chief of Jordanian Intelligence, Hani Salaam (Mark Strong) on this operation. But he doesn't know how far he can trust him without putting his life in danger. During war time, a spy doesn't know who he can trust, not even his own people. Douglas Young (the-movie-guy)

Here is a review for the movie Body of Lies from dvdtalk

"Body of Lies" is a mediocre espionage film tarted up as a prestigious offering, cast with blinding stars, directed by a once mighty visionary, and drawing from topical source material meant to provoke chills and international thought. However esteemed the package may be, "Lies" is a turgid Middle Eastern thriller, firing blanks as an action submission and presenting a wet match to light the fire of political discourse.

As a C.I.A. operative, Roger Ferris (Leonardo DiCaprio, appropriately furious) fights tooth and nail every day to maintain his cover and keep one step ahead of terrorists during his rounds of the Middle East. As Ferris's boss, Ed Hoffman (Russell Crowe) enjoys the easy life in Washington overseeing perilous missions, abusing Ferris's exasperation to his own advantage. Sent to Jordan to cozy up to intelligence officer Hani Salaam (Mark Strong), Ferris begins a campaign of deception to help nab an influential terrorist leader, only to find his own methods are starting to spiral out of control, leaving him and his newfound Iranian love (Golshifteh Farahani) wide open to vicious retaliation and the potential loss of American support.

Serviceable is a great way to describe "Body of Lies." There's nothing bone-rattling about this presentation of paranoia, instead the film takes a paint-by-numbers approach to wartime maneuvering and geopolitical happenings. Scott focuses on his polish this time around, making "Lies" a pretty picture with pretty stars, forgetting this genre is always best served with gritted teeth and an antagonistic point of view. Instead we have "The Kingdom" all over again: a topical thriller that uses Hollywood convention to limbo under any real confrontation or political stance. "Lies" isn't nearly as dopey as last year's Peter Berg sleeping pill, but it comes close, passing up an opportune moment to enrage audiences with a stark display of terrorism run amuck to skip through a field of cliché that wastes the monumental talents of the cast.

Scripted by William Monaghan (based on David Ignatius's book), "Lies" takes a sprawling, globe-trotting look at the mind games of terrorists and those who enlisted in the fight to curb violence. Scott is predictably skilled at getting a sense of scope into the film, observing Ferris as he rubber bands all over the map to maintain his cover and integrity. "Lies" generates location recognition wonderfully, and I have little reservation with the technical achievements of the film. What bothers me is the tepid pacing of the picture, and the shameless calculation of the screenwriting, viewed directly in the character of Aisha, a nurse who treats Ferris for a possible case of rabies, stealing his heart in the process.

While performed with suitable flirtation by Farahani, the character is meant to soften Ferris and provide a dangling thread for the third act to swoop in and exploit. It's tough to find a purpose for Aisha beyond obvious romantic manipulations, and the subplot seems to elongate an already overstuffed motion picture (125 minutes). Aisha is emblematic of the film's attempt to follow structure within a plot that demands chaos, forcing Scott to usher in a mammoth suicide bombing, shoot-out, or torture sequence every 15 minutes to keep his audience awake.

"Lies" isn't insightful about the war on terror, tends to sermonize when backed into a corner, and indulges Crowe far too much as he clowns it up as the prototypical American military fatso who would sell his own mother to protect himself. "Lies" cannot be swallowed as a lesson on current events, it's not that profound. It's a movie with terrorism, not about terrorism, and the thinness of the film starts to increasingly irritate when Scott has to find a way to end the picture on a stable note. Even if the concept was fresh ("Traitor" danced a similar jig two months ago), "Lies" remains an anesthetizing viewing experience.

Here is the direct download for the movie Body of Lies.