balding angrily

Happy Feet: With the Robin Williams voices, the amount of pop-culture songs, making it Moulin Rouge On Ice, the important social issues crammed in, and the meandering plot, I am surprised that I can recommend this movie, especially given that the rest of my family either fell asleep or berated me for my unabashed love of computer-choreographed, penguin-shaped Gregory Hines as lavish spectacle.

Wild Hogs: I recommend this movie to ONLY the following groups: sons and daughters of 50/60-something fathers that bought Harleys within the last year and whose fathers have changed into an amalgam of The Village People, the AARP, and man-boobs, said fathers, people that want to witness how John Travolta is the definition of hammy, those that fantasize about Dr. Cox’s nicely-shaped ass, those that fantasize about William H. Macy’s pasty, flap-jack ass, those that crave a hollow shadow of the Martin-era, on-screen chemistry between Martin Lawrence and Tichina Arnold, and those that can’t get enough of Ray Liotta laughing evilly.