In recent years, Judd Apatow has learned how to perfectly group together an ensemble comedy cast. Bringing together actors like Paul Rudd, Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill, Apatow’s films have shed light on comedic actors who work wonderfully together. Now one of those actors has broken through to star in the charming romantic comedy “She’s Out of My League,” directed by Jim Field Smith. Jay Baruchel, recognizable as the mohawked Canadian in the smash comedy “Knocked Up,” the main character in Apatow’s short-lived television series “Undeclared” and a bit actor in the comedy “Tropic Thunder,” has taken the reins to lead this comedic film. But after perfecting his goofy comedic timing in previous film ventures, Baruchel does a complete about-face to play an unassuming and almost painfully shy guy in “League.”

Baruchel plays Kirk Kettner, an airport security guard who recently got dumped by his girlfriend, Marnie. Baruchel throws himself fully into the character, but only to the annoyance of the audience. Kirk has all the bravado of Michael Cera, combined with the nasally tones of Christian Slater and stutters that would make Kristen Stewart proud. He is the epitome of a pushover, whether the abuse comes from his family, his ex-girlfriend or complete strangers.

The story is set in motion when Molly, a blonde bombshell who’s a “hard 10 on the hotness scale” according to Kirk’s friends, leaves her iPhone at the airport. Who but Kirk would be the one to find it? When he returns the phone to her, Molly invites him to a hockey game as a gift and the two hit it off. Kirk is the nice guy, the kind that Molly never dates, so she asks him out again, much to the dismay of Kirk’s friends (who consider him a “hard 5,” sometimes a 6.)

Among these friends is Stainer (who got his gross moniker from a fourth grade incident where he peed his pants). Played by comedian T.J. Miller, Stainer is the funniest character in the film as the fully confident, somewhat delusional foil that thinks he gets hotness points for being in a Hall and Oates cover band; never mind that he resembles a slightly less geeky Napoleon Dynamite. His comedic timing is perfect, delivering lines like, “I swear I will go dark side on you, I will bite your chin off,” with finesse and a crazy glint in his eyes.

The titular character of this film is Molly, played by British actress Alice Eve, whose performance is actually rather two-dimensional and boring. Though she seems perfect, she has problems of her own. Her parents expect her to be a lawyer, but she has a passion for party planning and lies to them about it. On top of that, she’s been used by guys before and is always put on a pedestal by those who are intimidated by her beauty. Being with Kirk is easy for her given his awkward demeanor and goofy jokes. In one scene, she even goes to visit his family who are absolutely nothing like Kirk. His mother (played by Debra Jo Rupp of “That ‘70s Show” fame) is the quintessential homemaker, married to a blundering moron played by Adam LeFevre. Kirk’s brother is the ultimate Neanderthal jock (played hilariously by Kyle Bornheimer), who abuses and embarrasses Kirk every chance he gets. Molly holds her own, finding herself quite comfortable among the weird and dysfunctional family, but the same is not true of Kirk.

After getting hot and heavy in Molly’s apartment, the two are interrupted when her family comes for a visit. Nervous and with a suspicious stain on his pants, Kirk scrambles out, leaving the family dumbfounded and the audience plenty embarrassed for Kirk.

The film is full of moments like these, where you want to grab Kirk’s shoulders and shake at least an ounce of courage into him. He is so painfully shy, taking the role of typically self-conscious, nerd-with-a-heart-of-gold to a whole new level. However, there are parts where it’s actually kind of adorable, which makes the romantic storyline somewhat bearable.

Despite its flaws, “She’s Out of My League” is definitely the funniest film in theaters right now. It can’t hold a candle to past films like “Superbad” or even romantic comedies like “There’s Something About Mary,” but it still has a certain charm and will keep you laughing almost all the way through. “She’s Out of My League” is now out in theaters everywhere.

You can reach this staff writer at ydesta@theeagleonline.com.

“Piazza” tells the story of Margaret and her daughter Clara’s trip to Florence. There, beautiful, naîve Clara is courted by the handsome and comically earnest Fabrizio Nacarelli, played by the very buff Nicolas Rodriguez. Fabrizio is drawn to her sweetness and innocence and wastes no time declaring his passionate love for her. Early in the plot, the audience receives hints about Clara’s secrets in the form of asides from Margaret.

Margaret and Clara meet Fabrizio’s family of loud-talking, wildly-gesticulating Italian stereotypes. To the supporting actors’ credit, they inject as much depth as possible into the two-dimensional characters.

As Clara, leading actress Margaret Anne Florence — a musical, film and commercial actress — has the crystal clear voice that is expected from a musical theater ingénue. Clara’s secret affliction makes the role difficult to play, and Florence, despite his imperfections, gives the character both the girlish innocence and gut-wrenching internal conflict required.

Rodriguez is easily the strongest cast member vocally. His slightly operatic voice and dramatic styling — perhaps developed during his stint on the soap “One Life to Live” — are swoon-inducing. Who wouldn’t fall in love with a nice guy who can also sing like an angel?

Hollis Rensik plays both the matron of her family and of this production. As Margaret, a doting Southern mother, Rensik plays the role with a nature as soothing as her menthol drawl. “Dividing Day” and “Fable” allow Rensik to show off her strong yet sweet soprano voice. Her character often breaks the fourth wall to explain the story to the audience.

Her counterpart Signoria Nacarelli, played by Mary Gutzi, effectively destroys the fourth wall when she begins speaking English and telling the audience about her family’s secrets. The scene, centered on the characters singing “Aiutami” or “Help Me” in Italian, is one of the strongest in the production.

“Piazza” suffers the most from the scaled-back set and orchestration (which has been reduced from 15 musicians to five for this chamber performance). That is not to say that the playing was not well done. The five musicians, including a harpist, gave the singers as much support as they could. But in the end, the dramatic nature of the plot and the music requires more power than five musicians can give.

The set failed to showcase the centerpiece of the musical: the city of Florence. In the opening scene, Margaret tells her daughter about the city’s landmarks as Clara walks around in a daze, amazed at its beauty. The barebones set fails to match either the grandness of the music or the historical city. Something feels off when the characters are wandering around the dull stage. Luckily, Arena’s Crystal City location is only temporary. The theater will be moving into the 20,000-square foot Mead Center this fall.

The musical is based on the novella of the same name by Elizabeth Spencer, which was originally serialized in the New Yorker. The novella, published in 1960, was turned into a film starring “Gone With The Wind” actress Olivia de Havilland as Margaret. The musical went to Broadway in 2005 and won six Tony Awards including Best Original Score.

“Piazza” is not “The Sound of Music,” but at least it’s not another pop musical like “Mamma Mia” or “Moving Out.” The production suffered from lack of oomph, a driving force that would have pushed the production from decent to something memorable.

“The Light in the Piazza” runs through April 11 at Arena Stage in Crystal City. Students with a valid I.D. can receive a 35 percent discount off the regular ticket price. To buy tickets, go to http://www.arenastage.org.

You can reach this writer at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

Like “Bad Romance,” “Telephone” is a relatively uninteresting, highly repetitive song that was not only redeemed, but also launched into the pop stratosphere by its video. Director Jonas Akerlund — also responsible for Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” as well as the Prodigy’s “Smack My Bitch Up,” if that gives you any hint of range — returns in the sequel to “Paparazzi.” Having taken a break to dance in potato sack dresses and murder Russian gangsters like it ain’t no thang, Lady Gaga returns to America, partially to serve jail time for the crimes committed in her “Paparazzi” video, and partially in another step to take over the world.

Although the prison setting had the potential to be criticized as insensitive or even offensive, Gaga and Akerlund get away with it, giving the prisoners their own personalities and sense of identity and disposing of gender stereotypes. They do this by filling the prison with diversity to show there is more than one way to be a woman. We shouldn’t be too surprised, though; this is the pop star who performed an entire choreographed number in a wheelchair.

In the exercise yard, Gaga fiercely proves her refusal to be bound by chains. Always glamorous, she shows everyone that she’s a free bitch, baby, and she’s got it all, no matter what. What, there’s no money to spend in prison so she can throw sexy parties and make out with triplets? No problem, Gaga’s got the currency that matters. If cigarettes are prison capital, then she’s got money to burn — literally. Flanked by guards, Gaga struts into the yard wearing sunglasses made of cigarettes. Cigarettes that are burning. On her face.

Soon after, Gaga is bailed out of prison. Who could have done it? As she saunters out of jail — and into Quentin Tarantino’s Pussy Wagon — we wonder, who could have saved Gaga? And how could this video get any better? And then we remember — oh yeah, Beyoncé is in it.

Revealed as the Pussy Wagon’s pilot, a black-lipsticked Beyoncé is gasp-inducing. Although the part was originally written for Britney Spears (whose performance in “Toxic” probably qualified her for a good old poisoning), Beyoncé takes “Telephone” completely out of its element in the best, most interesting way possible — which is perfect, because the “Telephone” video pushes the former Destiny’s Child frontwoman out of her boundaries as well. Finding herself in Lady Gaga’s world of the absurd, Beyoncé drops unexpectedly perfectly into place as the Clyde to Gaga’s Bonnie, a cinematic staple of classic Americana.

Together, the duo can pull off any stunt, including Gaga’s telephone eye patch and Beyoncé’s outfit in the murder scene, which conspicuously resembled a banana with a cowboy hat. In fact, the best part about them being able to pull off any stunt is that they’re not afraid to do it. Whether it’s a same-sex prison make out, an exuberant invitation for sandwich making or mass murder in a diner, what makes this music video so great is its never-ending addition of new elements strung together with frenetic editing.

“Telephone,” in continuing Gaga’s list of crimes, confirms the concept of her discography to date. In “The Fame,” the masses consume the pop star with their frenzy. In “The Fame Monster,” the pop star exacts her revenge. Lady Gaga satirizes the glorification of the celebrity and embeds herself in the fabric of Americana — and what could be more American, of course, than the Pussy Wagon?

You can reach this staff writer at kcasino@theeagleonline.com.

OK, I’ll admit it — I’m not a huge fan of the Spring Break reads (could you tell?), but once in a while I will give in and sink into their fluffy plots and relatable characters. I usually decide to read one of these books because after a long time of reading an economics textbook, this kind of novel is perfect. “The Year of the Yes” was the novel I chose. This book by Maria Dahvana Headly is no holds barred, a little ridiculous and wonderfully sarcastic.

Maria, a student in New York City, has all but given up on love. But instead of allowing her spirit to be broken by the harsh habitat in which she resides, she resolves to give up her negative spirit and say yes to every person who asks her on a date. She dates a couple cab drivers, her handyman, a few men who speak no English and even a few women. In the end, she finds true love and lives happily ever after. Wow. Those endings do exist after all.

No, I am not a skeptic on the existence of love. I am a perfect example of the average young adult female in this modern age. I am hopelessly romantic, but not optimistic, about the state of love in today’s society. To me, love is not something that is discovered upon first glance. It is something that is built up over time, discovered with the help of dating sites (for some), set-ups through a friend, classmates or that guy who picked up the money that you dropped on the way to pay for your coffee at Starbucks, took you out to lunch and turned out to be a really great guy (honestly, that has never happened to me, but that kind of situation happens a lot apparently). We are skeptics of true love today, and Maria’s character reflects that.

To combat this pessimism, Maria resolves to give love a chance beyond just the cookie-cutter love-at-first-sight that is still being pushed at us in today’s romantic comedies. Kudos to her. Going out with everyone who asks you on a date seems a little fishy. It goes against everything our parents have taught us over time (including “don’t talk to strangers” and “beware of strange men who seem nice because actually all they want is to take advantage of you”). It is true that there are some pretty creepy guys out there. But Maria decided to go the whole nine yards and do it. It is the “Supersize Me” method of making a broad point.

It is unrealistic for us to accept the assumptions behind most Spring Break books (that every woman is able to find her true love on the first or second try, and that when they find them it will all work out). So it is refreshing to find a book that goes at least a little bit contrary to that. Maria Dahvana Headly is funny, and her book definitely has a good point about the state of our minds today. Her point is not to trust all internal beauty; instead, her point is that it exists and that no one is perfect at first glance. Hey, who am I to judge her methods? She is married now…

You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

Sounds like: the Clash soaked in Jameson

The Dropkick Murphys have served as a stand-in for Irish-American culture, for better or worse, over the better part of a decade and a half. Their blend of a hardcore ethos wrapped in the aesthetics of the Irish working class of their native Massachusetts helped popularize music that was ethnic enough to be interesting but still reserved enough for mass consumption. Their live shows have become pilgrimages for their fans, none more so than their annual series of concerts in Boston for St. Patrick’s Day — recordings of which were turned into “Live on Landsdowne, Boston MA.”

Like the Pogues before them, the Dropkick Murphys sometime appropriate notable traditional ballads and make them their own, but for the most part just make punk music with bagpipes. This is their strength and their weakness — it offers an easy way to distinguish themselves from similar acts, but becomes a crutch when not playing to their target audience. A live album should take care of this problem, but “Live on Landsdowne” doesn’t manage to capture the visceral thrill of being in an audience.

That’s not to say there are only bad points to the album. The songs, culled from an extensive back catalogue, keep the same hard pace and no-frills delivery that one expects from music that wallows in the lo-fi and the low-class. These working-class anthems are often energetic enough to stand on their own.

Live versions of classics like “Shipping Down to Boston” and “The Warrior’s Code” speed by without introductions or banter to slow them down. This might be appreciated at a live show, but it gives little reason for fans to rush out and buy this by-the-numbers retread without offering a unique insight into the band or their secrets to stage success. 

Ironically enough, the recordings seem too polished and understandable to stand out from their albums. An initiate to the band might find this album a worthy introduction to the signature sound the band carved out, but anyone who has actually experienced a show will likely be left disappointed. Besides the chanting of fans that can be heard at the end of songs, there’s no way to tell if they’re playing at a dive bar rather than to a crowd of thousands. The energy all sounds the same when the experience is reduced down to listening in private.

-MICHAEL W. RICHARDSON

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

Sounds like: a step back for Ted Leo

D.C.-native Ted Leo picked an appropriate title for his newest release — “The Brutalist Bricks” embodies the rough-at-the-edges pop-punk that Leo had written since he began playing with the Pharmacists. It’s punk rock with indie sensibilities, categorized in a way by itself. “Bricks” continues the singer’s canon with another album full of political righteousness, moody mellowness and tons of catchy guitar hooks.

From the light snare drums of the album’s opener “The Mighty Sparrow,” it’s clear that the band’s sound has gotten sharper over time. The vocals continually build from a whispered falsetto to a Leo’s bold half-yelled, half-sung style of vocal assault. The same style continues on to “Mourning in America,” transitioning into the crunch of guitar distortion and a messy construction only held together by Leo’s voice.

However, the album doesn’t have the sense of unity or polish that marked the last album, “Living With the Living.” Tracks like “Even Heroes Have to Die” combine Leo’s political opining with overworked guitar lines that are less punk than easy-listening. The album often swerves from these catchy, hook-laden pop ballads to thrashy noise-rock, leaving the listener without any sense of common texture or sound to bring it all together. The songs are excellent on their own — “Bartolomeo and the Bees” in particular is as good as any track the band has put out in the last few years. But it’s hard to have to listen to the messy songs that fall in between the gems.

Still, “Bricks” is proof that Ted Leo is still at the peak of his career as he stares down his 40s. Despite the misfires, the inconsistencies and the lack of cohesive tone, Leo still manages to write some of the most captivating and catchy rock tunes of any of his contemporaries. Even if this reads as a step backwards, it’s enough fun to come back to for multiple visits.

-MWR

In its 18th consecutive year, the Environmental Film Festival began Tuesday, March 16 and will run through March 28. According to the festival’s Web site, there will be over 150 films featured at various venues around the District, ranging from the expected local theatres to museums, libraries, universities and embassies.

“The Environmental Film Festival has become the leading showcase for environmental films in the United States,” the festival’s press release states. “Presented in collaboration with over 100 local, national and global organizations, the Festival is one of the largest cooperative cultural events in the nation’s capital.”

The festival is not only for the most hardcore of environmentalists; instead it’s geared toward many different types of viewers. In addition to the numerous documentaries being shown, there will also be animated, experimental and children’s films to attract all ages and types of crowds.

According to the Environmental Film Festival’s press release, “[the festival] features cinematic work from 30 countries and ... 66 premieres.”

A prominent theme of the festival is the relationship between food and the environment. Beginning filmmaker Jane Sablow’s much-anticipated three short children’s films, “Wishful Thinking,” “Cravings” and “Smart Machine” expound on the topical subject of how to get children to eat healthy foods.

“In ‘Wishful Thinking,’ a young girl wishes for fruits and vegetables on her birthday,” a Washington Post article describes. “In ‘Cravings,’ a little girl tries desperately to grab her (surprising) favorite snack on the table. And in ‘Smart Machine,’ an ominous vending machine yields an interesting snack.”

Sablow, like many other featured filmmakers, will also host a discussion after the films that touch on topics such as her inspiration for the films and the varying and complex techniques that went into creating them.

Those environmentalists who are intrigued by the ocean or who have marine biologist aspirations will likely be pleased by “Turtle: The Incredible Journey.” The film chronicles the epic journey of a turtle’s trip across and back the North American Ocean.

“Turtle: The Incredible Journey” will be screened March 21 at AFI Silver Theatre in Silver Spring. Tickets are $10 in general, $9 for seniors, students and military and $6 for kids 12 and younger.

Other especially interesting and anticipated films include “Nora!” and “Garbage Dreams.” The film “Nora!” follows Nora Pouillon, a local D.C. restaurateur, as she establishes the country’s first certified organic restaurant. 

Touching on a very different subject, “Garbage Dreams” provides a much more international look at environmental issues. “[Garbage Dreams] highlights the recycling methods ofZabbaleen, a sustainable garbage collecting organization in Cairo, according to the festival’s press release.

There is no excuse not to see at least one of the many relevant and provocative films. The majority of films and corresponding events are free. For more information, as well as a complete listing of show times and locations, visit the festival’s Web site at http://www.dcenvironmentalfilmfest.org.

You can reach this staff writer at ostitilis@theeagleonline.com.

Before his well-publicized battle with hard drugs and a post-teen-idol life, Haim was best known for his role in the ‘80s film “The Lost Boys” at 16-years-old and his friendship with then co-star Corey Feldman. The two would later go on to star in their own series “The Two Coreys,” which documented their struggles and Haim’s obvious addictions. Though he seemed to turn himself around and set himself on a sober path, the 38-year-old actor died March 10 amid speculation that he died from a possible accidental overdose of different medications.

Haim is not the only one whose unintentional mix of medicines led to an early end. Heath Ledger died in January 2008 at the age of 28 to the shock of fans everywhere. Just a few months before the debut of his Joker in “The Dark Knight” (for which he posthumously won a deserved Best Supporting Actor Oscar), Ledger was found dead in his apartment while filming for the recently released “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus.” Ledger largely kept himself out of the limelight when not filming movies, but his unexpected demise put him in the papers more than he had ever been before. The Australian actor got his break in America after the release of the teen hit “10 Things I Hate About You,” and he went on to star in fan and critic favorites like “A Knight’s Tale” and “Brokeback Mountain,” the latter of which earned him an Oscar nomination for Best Actor. Despite his young death, Ledger will be remembered as a talented star on the rise.

River Phoenix also had Academy Award nominations and critic’s adorations under his belt when he passed away at the age of 23. Breaking into popular culture in 1986 at the age of 16 with “Stand By Me,” Phoenix showed incredible acting promise from the start. After garnering several acting nominations for “Running on Empty” in 1988, Phoenix went on to star in blockbusters like “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” and indie darlings such as “My Own Private Idaho.” Like Ledger, Phoenix was mentioned on lists of stars to watch out for but sadly never got to realize his full potential. Phoenix famously died of a drug overdose of heroin and cocaine outside a club in Hollywood on Halloween in 1993.

Troubled young actor Brad Renfro, like Phoenix, also died of a drug overdose. A week before Ledger passed, Renfro, known in his later career for his drug addiction, succumbed to a heroin overdose at 25. Renfro had gathered critical acclaim for his debut role in “The Client” at the age of 11. He went on to star in films like “Tom and Huck,” “Sleepers” and “Ghost World,” and though he continued to work through until the year of his death, his drug problems soon became the better of him.

While it is a tragedy when any young life is lost, especially to preventable situations, Haim, Ledger, Phoenix and Renfro will long be remembered for their contributions to the film world, whether through popular cult hits or summer movie blockbusters. From timeless actors like then 24-year-old James Dean to fan favorites like 32-year-old Brittany Murphy, it only further proves the saying that only the good die young.

You can reach this staff writer at cmoore@theeagleonline.com.

It has been way, way too long since Hollywood released an amazing chick flick worthy of our time. Producers have been rolling out tons of female-targeted films over the past few years, but few of these movies have captured our hearts and landed spots on our DVD shelves. Never fear, ladies. You can stop settling for subpar acting and horrible endings. All of your needs for classic love stories and good looking men will at last be fulfilled. “Remember Me,” starring Robert Pattinson and Emilie de Ravin, is the cure-all for a streak of mediocre chick flicks.

The film follows the relationship of Tyler Hawkins, (Pattinson), and Ally Craig (de Ravin), an unlikely pair who help one another through a continuous string of family hardships. Tyler first asks out Ally because he wants to get revenge on her father (Chris Cooper), a cop who arrested him and did some damage to his face. But after a few dates and charming gestures, Tyler realizes he’s falling for this girl (who practically moves in with him after date number two, when daddy cop busts up her face, too).

Although he’s the film’s star, Pattinson’s acting skills are not above his performance in “Twilight.” “Remember Me” is memorable and captivating, but would have been even better if Pattinson had left his awkward stutters, smiles and movements with the vampires. Despite his second-rate acting, Pattinson’s character is still enchanting because of his internal struggles over his older brother’s suicide, his negligent father and his nerdy, artistic sister. 

The best parts about the film are the surprising plot twists that will stun viewers and leave them wanting more. (Spoiler alert: the surprise ending will actually absolutely shock you.) Acts of kindness or malice that weren’t expected will draw you into the film and bring you closer to its characters. Make sure to pay close attention to subtle details (such as tattoos and chalkboard dates) that will help you appreciate the film’s plot to its fullest potential. 

A memorable feature of “Remember Me” is its clever humor. Hawkins’ roommate, Aidan (Tate Wellington), is probably the funniest and most belligerent character. His favorite line is, “Just one drink. Just one drink,” which inevitably results in him and Tyler locked behind bars and Ally’s head planted in the toilet. He also talks about his idea for a marketing device called the “S.L.U.T.” (“Single Lady Utility Tote”), for feisty ladies who constantly find themselves in random male’s beds without a toothbrush. 

One character not to be overlooked is Tyler’s father, played by Pierce Brosnan. His father is a workaholic who pays no attention to his little sister and only talks when he has something critical to say. Unlike his “Mission Impossible” and “Mamma Mia” roles, Brosnan portrays a New York hard ass who doesn’t smile or care about anything but Wall Street. His character is a powerful force that goes through a terrific transformation during the course of the film. 

The movie’s plot and impressive supporting characters are the glue that successfully holds it together. The main characters played by Pattinson and de Ravin are interesting alone, but lack a certain necessary chemistry that a romantic couple needs. But regardless of the questionable romance, “Remember Me” still delivers. Viewers won’t be disappointed with this inspiring chick-flick. 

You can reach this writer at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

There are good cops and there are bad cops. But there are also those rare cops who are good with a bad streak. Director Antoine Fuqua has mastered the delicate balance of bad men who make good cops, which he displays in his cop thriller, “Brooklyn’s Finest.”

The film takes place during one week in Brooklyn, focusing on three cops all dealing with major moral dilemmas. The film’s major theme —  one Fuqua is not a stranger to — is defying authority.

“I’ve always been with the underdog,” Fuqua said in an interview with The Eagle. “I grew up loving gangster films like the original ‘Scarface’ and ‘Public Enemy,’ so I definitely relate my films to questioning authority.”

The film starts by focusing on Richard Gere’s character as aging officer Eddie Dugan. Dugan is apathetic and uncaring, to the point where he hardly wants to get up in the morning to go finish up his last few days of cop work. After years on the force, Dugan has nothing to show for it. All he does is pay for prostitutes, deal unsympathetically with the rookies he still has to train and count down the few days until his retirement.

Gere plays the character as one-dimensionally as possible, with barely any emotion. That might be a problem, but the character is so pathetic that Gere’s acting is convincing and appropriate. However, Dugan doesn’t evoke emotion in the same way as Ethan Hawke and Don Cheadle’s do.

This role is the second time Fuqua has worked with Hawke. The first time is in the Oscar-winning film “Training Day” with Hawke as a rookie under training of Denzel Washington’s crazy veteran police officer. Since then, Fuqua has been a fan and the two had mutual feelings about working in this film. Hawke plays Sal, a married man with four kids and twins on the way. Sal is struggling to make ends meet as a police officer who conducts home raids of drug dealers. His character is miserable, obsessed with the idea of moving his family to a bigger home. Out of desperation, he begins stealing money from dealers, under the guise of doing honorable cop work. Hawke plays the cop marvelously; his gravelly voice and constantly furrowed brow draw concern from the audience. The moviegoer is completely immersed in his pain and desperation, sometimes even justifying his crazy actions.

The next best performance comes from Don Cheadle. He plays Detective Clarence “Tango” Butler, an undercover cop who is having a hard time keeping up his act. He buddies up with Caz, a drug dealer who saved his life at one point, played by Wesley Snipes. Tango is struggling as he tries to persuade others of his status as a drug dealer, while at the same time trying to get reassigned so that he no longer has to do undercover work.

Cheadle is excellently cast as this character, despite the fact that his accent is an awkward cross between hood and nasally Brooklynite. While Hawke is the star of the film, Cheadle’s character and his situation add tension, underlining the theme of defying authority, which Fuqua has a knack for lacing into his films.

Fuqua certainly has a wide range of films to portray his theme of defying authority, such as “Training Day,” “Tears of the Sun” and “Shooter.” However, “Brooklyn’s Finest” is only his second film to really look in depth at the situations that cops have to deal with. In addition, it’s his first time working with Wesley Snipes, who tentatively returned to film last year.

“I had some reservations,” Snipes said in an interview with The Eagle. “But Antoine persuaded me, and anyways we’ve been trying to work together for ten years.”

The role of Caz, a smooth drug dealer who was recently released from prison, is not unlike some of Snipes’ previous characters. Even so, Snipes said that though drug dealers are not a new role to play, he still likes to work hard to get into character.

“I like to draw from the real world,” he said. “I’m legitimate. I take pictures and colors and fill my rooms with them so it can filter into my subconscious. Then I see if the cats who really live that life can believe me, and the rest falls into place.”

Snipes pulls it off well, but his character really does not mean as much as the cops, whom Fuqua focuses on.

“They’re human,” Fuqua said. “Cops protect you and take a sacred oath, like priests, but they make no money at all. Plus, they don’t get checked psychologically enough, even though they see the worst in mankind.”

While it seems like he’s in awe of the police, he’s mostly just intrigued by their situation. Directors have long been making cop films, but none have been able to do it quite like Fuqua.

“Life’s a matter of choice,” he said. “And they made the choice to serve the greater calling to run towards a bullet.”

“Brooklyn’s Finest” hits theaters March 5.

You can reach this staff writer at ydesta@theeagleonline.com.

Originally written in Spanish, the AU rendition was translated by Emily Mann and directed by Puerto Rican native Javier Rivera, an alumnus who received his BA in theater and education. However, a degree in theater is not the only achievement that Rivera has to boast; the success of the recent play speaks volumes of his cultural and artistic contributions. 

Set on the eve of the Spanish Civil War, the play portrays a family ruled by their mother, Bernarda Alba, after the death of the patriarch. The performance presents a different mood than “Romeo and Juliet,” which the department presented earlier this year. Though both are tragedies, “The House of Bernarda Alba” poses a theme distinct from the devastation of young love. The daughters of Bernarda Alba are secluded after their mother imposes an eight-year mourning period on them following their father’s death. The topics of oppression of women and Spanish tradition parallel the regime of Francisco Franco, the rising dictator during the time the play was written.

The emphasis on female issues is obvious. The presentation is made up of entirely female characters. Men are only present as off-stage references. Leeanna Rubin, who plays Bernarda Alba, delivers a convincing performance of the controlling matriarch and brings the audience into the world of 20th century Spain. The performance puts the viewers directly in the Alba household. Additionally, the small cast of only twelve actors contributes to the intimacy of the play and creates the illusion that the viewer is confined in the house just like the Alba daughters.

The small theater also added to the tone of the play, which School of Communication sophomore Kayla Fenner described as dark and intimate.

“The play was really dark, literally and figuratively,” Fenner said. “You could definitely feel the tension between the family, especially because the audience was so close to the actors.”

The tension on stage did indeed spread to the audience, which made the drama even more gripping in the intimate theater. In fact, the performance was consistent with Lorca’s original intention to create a dark atmosphere. In doing so, Lorca hoped to create a parallel to the darkness of the social condition in Spain. Rivera recreates Lorca’s image perfectly and provides insight into his world.

While the historical context of Franco’s Spain is distinct from Washington, D.C., today, the topics of oppression still exist in the 21st century. The audience recognized this theme and the setting and environment created in “The House of Bernarda Alba.” Both worked together to give the viewer a sense of a scope outside modern reality. Although the play finished its performances at Katzen on Saturday, Feb. 27, the impact of the performance very much resounds in those who saw it. While the play portrayed a house divided, the response of the audience was united with satisfaction. ¡Bien hechos!

You can reach this writer at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

After the cold opening, Jay walked out to a legion of cheering fans on a redesigned set (the only noticeable change to The Tonight Show). After his signature high-fives for a few lucky fans (you see, Leno is a man of the people) he went into his typical monologue, which only made one real allusion to the fact that he was not host of the show for the last few months.

“I’m your host — at least for now,” he said. Of course, there was no mention of that other guy who sat at the big desk for a short time.

Speaking of the big desk, Leno took the new gig as an opportunity for a new bit, “The Great Desk Search,” where he goes to random people’s homes and looks at their desks to see which would be good for Jay to sit behind. What could be funnier than Jay Leno going into your home, talking about your desks and perhaps making fun of your family? Well, everything it seems. After watching the painfully forced bit where D-List celebs like Randy Jackson and Adam Carolla show up to “test” out the new desks, one has to wonder how long Leno can keep this bit going. Then again, he has managed to keep doing Jay-Walking for about two decades.

After the break, Leno introduced his first guest, Jamie Foxx, by showing a montage of his film work. This is usually reserved for someone receiving a lifetime achievement award. It’s just too bad they left out Foxx’s brilliant work in “Stealth” and “Booty Call.” Foxx came out with a huge amount of energy and led the crowd in irritating chants like “When I say ‘Welcome’ you say ‘Back’” and got everyone to do one of America’s most shameful creations, The Wave. Foxx did what he was clearly brought on the show to do: talk about how great it was that Jay was back hosting The Tonight Show. When Foxx calmed down, he was harmlessly charming but managed to shill for the network by mentioning how much he enjoyed the Olympics. Foxx also reminded everyone that the red head was no longer hosting by talking about his love for Kirstie Alley.

After Foxx, Olympic gold medal-winner Lindsey Vonn came out to talk about the Olympics (as seen on NBC). Being an athlete and not an actor or comedian, no one expects Vonn to really get the crowd going — and she didn’t. This is why there is a host. In situations like this, when someone not particularly interesting to talk to is a guest, the host needs to pull some laughs out. Leno failed here; the interview was disappointingly bland. Leno sounded more like Bob Costas than a comedian — something that should be left to Costas.

The show ended unceremoniously with a Brad Paisley performance. It was great if you really love Brad Paisley. Overall, there was really nothing special about Leno’s return to the Tonight Show. He looks as if he never left the post as the show’s host. For anyone who enjoyed him before, there’s no need to worry — nothing has changed. Those who thought that Leno’s return may bring restructuring or something fresh to the show should look elsewhere. Jay Leno is back — and he’s the same as ever.

You can reach this columnist at slindauer@theeagleonline.com.

Before delving into the Best Picture race, which is perhaps the most competitive of the past decade, it’s important to knock off the films that don’t stand a chance — the “you’re lucky to be nominated” entries, if you will. First off the list is “The Blind Side.” Without any other nomination apart from Best Actress, this film doesn’t stand a chance. Sandra Bullock will, regrettably, garner “The Blind Side” its sole Oscar victory.

The wise, clean-cut British film “An Education” will not pose a threat here, either. With only a few scattered critics’ awards under its belt, the film doesn’t stand a chance against its stronger competitors. “A Serious Man,” “District 9” and “Up” all won critics’ praise — and audience support for the latter two — yet without Best Director or any acting nominations to speak of, it’s going to be a battle for the top honor.

Earlier in the year, critics and entertainment industry bloggers all knighted “Precious” and “Up in the Air” as the frontrunners in the race. Although “Precious” and “Up in the Air” have made very strong showing throughout the awards season, their victories have surfaced in the Best Supporting Actress and Best Adapted Screenplay categories, respectively.

Now this is where things get murky. Any of the three remaining films, “The Hurt Locker,” “Avatar” and “Inglourious Basterds” are all plausible winners. Logistically speaking, “The Hurt Locker” has won nearly every critics award for Best Picture, as well as the Producers and Directors Guild Awards. In terms of financial success, which plays a larger part in the race than you’d think, “Avatar” is, well, “Avatar.” Back in 2005 when “Crash” surprised everyone and took the Best Ensemble Cast award at the Screen Actors Guild Awards, upsetting “Brokeback Mountain,” and won the top prize at the Oscars, the SAG award has come to pack quite a punch in the race. This is largely because actors constitute the largest demographic of the Academy voting body. When Quentin Tarantino’s Nazi-huntin’ circus “Inglourious Basterds” won the award a few weeks ago, I got to wondering if history was about to repeat itself, “Basterds” being “Crash” and “Hurt Locker” being “Brokeback.”

Although I’m definitely rooting for “The Hurt Locker” to upset James Cameron’s stupid sellout of a film (yeah, I said it), a “Basterds” win would be fantastic — a sensational twist, and a film that merits such an accolade. As long as it’s not “Avatar.”

I know I’m in the minority here, but now, two months after I took the plunge to Pandora like everyone else, I’m profoundly indifferent. Sure, the visual effects were astounding and unlike anything I’ve seen before (and it should damn well be with that astronomical budget), but those aren’t grounds for bestowing the film a Best Picture Oscar — especially because the film is essentially a cheap rip-off of “Pocahontas” with atrocious acting and a script that felt written by a feral child hocked up on Adderall.

In the end, I think along with Best Director (Kathryn Bigelow), Best Actor (Jeff Bridges), Best Supporting Actress (Mo’Nique), Best Supporting Actor (Christoph Waltz), this year, the right nominee will triumph — that nominee for Best Picture being “The Hurt Locker.” With its revolutionary guerrilla filmmaking methods and its dual timeless and timely message, “The Hurt Locker” achieves on a shoestring budget what “Avatar” achieves (in the broad public’s opinion, certainly not mine) with a budget of over $200 million more. Nothin’ green about that, now is there, Mr. Cameron?

You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

Take, for example, one of the more typical tracks, “Lifeline.” Between the strained lyrical imagery and the crooning, monotonous rhythm, Greenwood is only able to skim the surface of bare emotion. There’s too much wavering from tempo to tempo for any proper build up. Then, there are songs like “A Father’s Son” and “Off the Ground” that may seem wilder and more flavorful, but eventually just zip by with little effect. The songs have their moments here and there, but they’re interspersed with far too many trifles to make them noticeable in the slightest.

There is certainly a new depth to this Citizen Cope that makes his production more polished, more hard-hitting than previous works simply because of its seeming novelty. The variety of different genres — everything from alternative rock to reggae — that Greenwood incorporates and pays homage to should be reason enough to listen to it in and of itself. Instead the album is just one long plateau that may be enjoyable and easy-going for some, and boring and inanimate for others.

— STEPHAN CHO

Elizabeth & the Catapult
“Taller Children”
Verve Music Group
Sounds like: Regina Spektor playing for The Hush Sound
Grade: A-

What makes “Taller Children” by New York City-based indie rock band Elizabeth & The Catapult such a great album isn’t its charming simplicity, but the fact that it’s so unaware of just that. Elizabeth has a strong quality in both her vocal range and the characteristic of her songs that is so wonderfully understated it makes you want to keep listening just to catch it. She’s able to play off fierce as playful, sappy as romantic.

Right from the opening track “Momma’s Boy,” a folky send-off to a mysterious and presumably needy ex-lover, Elizabeth isn’t abashed about telling it like it is by showing an independence that will stick for most of the album. The song is the perfect balance of charismatic pep talk and spiteful break-up, getting her message across without being too serious or emotional. Listening to slower songs like “Rainiest Day of Summer” makes it seem as if it’s in her character to come off as strong when she’s actually very vulnerable and lonely. The erratic interplay of these songs is never jarring because they show an authenticity to Elizabeth that is always heartfelt.

“Taller Children” is a lot of fun to listen to because it’s a genuine glimpse into the humanity of Elizabeth herself. There’s a song for every mood that is always passionate and never rusty. Just listen to it — it’s simply enchanting.

S.C.

The Burning Hotels
“Novels”
Summit Entertainment
Sounds like: The Bravery except even more boring
Grade: D+

From its ambiguously morbid cover art to its consistently shallow and meaningless lyrics of unrequited love, “Novels” by The Burning Hotels sounds like it’s trying too hard to live up to an alternative-indie rock archetype. The band, based in Fort Worth, Texas, does little to inject their songs with original panache, driving through with each hook of generic guitar riffs and clichéd chorus lines. This doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, because it can work with some effort. But there’s really nothing special about this album save some nice production values.

The songs are just too stodgy and never make any initiative to go beyond the starting point. To prove this, most of the tracks on the album sound almost entirely alike. It tries to maintain this pseudo-effervescent quality that gets tired too early. Opening the album with “Austin’s Birthday” at least a good choice to set the mood — not because the song has any merit but because it at least has an introduction that stands out in comparison to the others.

It’s hard to really put a critical focus on an album that feels like it either tried too hard or didn’t try hard enough. If this debut full-length LP is any indication of how The Burning Hotels will continue to write their music, then it’s probably best to avoid them altogether.

— S.C.

Titus Andronicus
“The Monitor”
XL Recordings
Sounds like: Billy Bragg falling off the wagon

On Titus Andronicus’ new album, “The Monitor,” lead singer Patrick Stickles spends a 14-minute-long finale deriding every aspect of his personality. It’s an honest and personal conclusion to the record, but it’s also a strange one; it tails an hour-long song cycle about the Civil War and its relation to modern attitudes. If Stickles wasn’t confident in his strength going in, he sure chose a weird time to test the limits of punk rock song structure and lyrical depth.

The move toward longer running times is the most instantly recognizable change between “The Monitor” and Titus’ last album, “The Airing of Grievances.”  The band shift into new movements and tempos at least twice in every epic-length song, turning what could be an album of dirges into an exercise in build and release. Ambient drones blow up into dual guitar solos and fast songs about getting drunk hit brick walls at their midpoints, becoming melancholy songs about blacking out.

This is where the album deviates from punk rock for the better. The hard guitars and galloping drums from the first album are still around, but the band aren’t afraid to slip a heart-felt bagpipe solo into the end of an otherwise hard song. The two shortest,  fastest tracks, “Titus Andronicus Forever” and “...And Ever” don’t make enough of a shift and end up sounding like standard, unchanging hardcore beats against the rest of the album’s experimentation. Things rock on the band’s time and when they want to take it slow, they trust you to give them enough space to try things out.

Some things haven’t changed: Stickles still sings the fast songs like he’s going to die before the album ends and the slow songs like he worries that he’s going to live 50 years after he stops serving a purpose. When Stickles focuses his anger on specific targets, his rants hit, but when he takes on a blind “us against them” struggle in the album’s middle, he loses a heavy chunk of his edge.

Still, that’s the most rewarding aspect of “The Monitor:” every time Titus Andronicus play like a Black Flag cover band or turn a great three minute song into a dull five minute one, they take a three second break and move onto a new track that re-contextualizes its predecessor as its introduction. It’s a grower and an extra-long album — it’s what you’ll still be listening to in December.

— ALEX RUDOLPH

Contrary to Michelle Obama’s laments in her video on the Let’s Move campaign’s Web site, parents aren’t struggling to feed their children healthy meals simply because they don’t have time to cook dinner. Americans (and, likewise, Americanizing nations) are becoming obese because our food system is in the hands of a few powerful corporations that produce sugary, fatty, processed foods that lack high nutritional standards but are cheap and therefore most appealing to consumers. People are now spending more of their income on medications to deal with obesity-related illness and less on wholesome food that would have prevented them from becoming ill to begin with.

The way I see it, when corporations like Tyson or Kraft say, “Jump!,” the USDA asks, “How high?” In fact, I used to blame the problems with our food system entirely on government agencies like the USDA. But after learning more and recently speaking with Kathy Dozer, a representative from the National Family Farm Coalition, I’ve learned it is not government subsidies of commodity crops like corn and soybeans (read: high fructose corn syrup, oils used in processed food and cheaper, calorically-dense livestock feed) that are really to blame. These commodity subsidies were only ever started because a few huge agribusinesses were able to control prices, which forces farmers to rely on help from the government in order to survive.

This power structure explains why poverty and obesity often go hand-in-hand in America. One example of this is how the poorest families are encouraged to eat free and reduced-price school lunches. Therefore, it makes sense to focus on the National School Lunch Program as one of the most significant causes of childhood obesity in America.

Diane Whitmore Schanzenbach, an assistant professor at the University of Chicago, recently provided evidence for this with a study where she found that students who ate public school lunch gained more weight after starting school than students who brown bagged their lunches. Students who ate school lunches consumed between 40 and 120 more calories a day, which doesn’t seem like such a big deal — until you multiply that number by 180 days.

I decided to investigate the lunch menus at three local public elementary schools. I figure if you see one public school’s lunch menu, you’ve seen them all, because they are all subject to the same guidelines, requirements and subsidies. However, in an effort to be more comprehensive, I looked at the lunch menus of elementary schools in three local school districts: Montgomery County, Fairfax County and the District of Columbia. Around the time I started kindergarten, Adam Sandler released his classic musical tale of hoagies and grinders, navy beans, meatloaf sandwiches and sloppy Joes. Surely those days have passed, right?

All three school lunch menus I looked at feature the same foods they did 17 years ago: pizza, hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, cheese steak pockets — the gang’s all there. I was pleasantly surprised to see that Fairfax and Montgomery both offer meat alternatives — veggie burgers and meatless “chik’n” nuggets from Morningstar Farms (which is owned by Kellogg’s, an industrial food producer, and the reason why you’re now throwing your arms up and saying, “Well, for crying out loud, what CAN I eat?!”). D.C.’s menu appears nutritionally inferior compared to the other two. For example, I saw more fried foods than baked in the D.C. schools, and every day featured meat, no doubt filled with plenty of growth hormones. I can’t help but think that has a lot to do with D.C.’s lunch price being over $1 cheaper than Fairfax and Montgomery Counties’ $2.65.

I decided to also look at the lunch menu of a local private school: the Sidwell Friends School, that Sasha and Malia Obama attend. The Obamas have come under fire for sending their daughters to a private school to the tune of just under $30,000 per child per year, while students in D.C. public schools struggle on all sorts of fronts. My suspicions were realized: Sidwell’s menu today features, “celery stuffed with cream cheese and raisins, chicken and broccoli Asian sauté, bok choy, steamed rice and local apple slices” — sounds healthier than pepperoni pizza and canned peaches. Can you smell the inequality?

I’m not knocking Sidwell or the Obamas. I would send my children to a private school too if I were them. We just need public schools to be able to offer quality food like private ones can. In fact, as AU students, we are also fortunate to attend a university whose dining program is run by one of the more sustainable, socially-conscious management companies in the country, Bon Appetit. How can we extend this nutritious food to public schools as well?

Obama’s campaign mentions two actions to improve public school lunches: reauthorizing the Child Nutrition Act and doubling the number of schools participating in the Healthier U.S. School Challenge. In my opinion, both of these measures would be akin to putting a Band-Aid on this problem without actually dealing with the cause of it.

Reforming our farming policies would actually help us to do this. If the USDA incentivized biodiversity instead of monoculture commodity crops, it would encourage farmers to grow more fruits and vegetables, and help to end our obsession with high-fructose corn syrup and processed foods created using corn and soy surpluses. We should also move away from free trade agricultural policies, which encourage agribusinesses to buy crops from countries with poor environmental standards and labor conditions, and move more toward food sovereignty and local, domestic farmer support. Cafeterias at schools and other institutions could also be funded and provided infrastructure to allow them to purchase foods from regional farmers. These initiatives would pave the way for healthier, more sustainable food for America’s children and help to combat the obesity epidemic throughout the country, even in the poorest areas. Some experts are saying that, for the first time in history, parents in this country will live longer lives than their children due to obesity-related illness. Let’s prove those experts wrong.

I understand all of these overwhelming facts offer little advice about what we can do on a personal level to help combat this crisis. Next time, I’ll wrap up this series by looking at ways we can use our power as consumers to take back our food and our health.

You can reach this columnist at kbarrett@theeagleonline.com.

On March 6 and 7, the City of Fairfax, Va., the Central Fairfax Chamber of Commerce, the Downtown Fairfax Coalition, the Downtown Fairfax Merchants Association and George Mason University will put together the 18th annual festival dedicated to nothing but chocolate.

According to the Chocolate Lovers Festival’s Web site, “the purpose of the festival is to draw visitors to Old Town Fairfax, to encourage community participation and to foster cooperation among the city government, the business community and local residents.”

In the past the festival has been held the first full weekend in February, but was rescheduled this year due to snow and inclement weather. The theme of the festival is to unite people around their love for the sweet and draw visitors from near and far.

Two events that promise to be particularly worthy and definitely delicious at this year’s festival are the Chocolate Challenge and Taste of Chocolate.

The Chocolate Challenge, which is sponsored by the Independence Day Celebration Committee, runs both Saturday and Sunday and is located at the SPACE in Old Town Plaza. The event will feature numerous chocolate cakes as well as “artwork” made entirely out of chocolate.

In addition to a silent auction — where visitors can bid on chocolate creations such as donated cakes — there will also be a rousing competition with many categories for both professionals and amateurs to compete in. The competition is no laughing matter, as competitors come from all around looking to be victorious.

“This year’s celebrity judges for this event are Norman R. Davis and Zane Beg of The Sweet Life in Annandale, Va., who have appeared on multiple Food Network challenges; Michael Hensley of Victoria’s Cakery in the City of Fairfax; and City of Fairfax Mayor Robert F. Lederer,” according to the festival’s Web site.

This event is sure to be a must-see not only for the amazing creations that will be crafted, but also for the delicious samplings that are sure to come as well.

The Taste of Chocolate event also runs both Saturday and Sunday and will have an even greater range of chocolate samplings. Treats will hail from local bakeries and shops and will include everything from cakes to fudge, brownies to ice cream.

Also noteworthy is the fact that every year the festival chooses a charitable organization to donate a portion of their proceeds to. Organizations interested can fill out an application in the preceding September and October. This year’s recipient is the Independence Day Celebration Committee, which works to put on annual Independence Day activities and historical events every summer in Fairfax.

Lauren Powell, a freshman in the School of International Service, said that the Chocolate Lovers Festival looked like a really fun time.

“First, I love chocolate so I would come just for the samples, but also it seems like there will be some really impressive creations,” she said. “I usually only think of chocolate as something to eat, so it will be interesting to see how it can be made into art as well.”

Most of the events at the festival are free, yet a few are ticketed with a ticket cost ranging from $1 to $7. The festival will take place at various locations throughout Old Town Fairfax and it offers a shuttle service taking those visitors without cars to the different spots throughout the weekend. For more information, visit the event’s Web site at http://www.chocolatefestival.net/.

You can reach this staff writer at ostitilis@theeagleonline.com.

The District is no different. There is much more to the city than the politics up on the Hill and the manicured perfection of Georgetown. There is a wealth of diversity and artistic talent that lies beneath the surface and it is not any less legitimate for that fact. The Intersections Art Festival, a new endeavor from the Atlas Performing Center, aims to display and fuse both of these aspects. Taking place during the weekends between Feb. 19 and March 7, the festival has brought together a wide range of performers and artists and given them the freedom to express themselves.

Diversity in all senses is truly a main focus of the festival. Performers represent all age groups, ethnicities and artistic pursuits. There is also a strong emphasis placed on audience interaction, a number of workshops and question-and-answer sessions being offered.

The event features a long and impressive list of attractions. Shows range from two local children’s choirs performing together to the hip-hop troupe DCypher DC and the hilarious, cutting-edge storytelling of SpeakeasyDC: Wetbacks, Aliens and Towelheads. As a whole, the festival offers exhibitions in dance, theater, music and film, as well as the visual and literary arts.

“Each of us is on our own journey. But as we travel, we reach crossroads — the points at which our journeys meet — launching the possibility that we will go in new directions as individuals, as a community, as a society,” Artistic Director Mary Hall Surface wrote on the festival’s Web site.

She also said the audience will experience a powerful understanding of how all these different arts come together.

“At Intersections, audiences will experience those dynamic junctures and discover the energy that is ignited when ways and worlds collide and coalesce through the power of the arts,” Hall wrote on the site.

This event is representative of both the past and future of H Street, where it is being held. Originally an affluent commercial center, it entered a period of decline after World War II and was not able to rebound after the 1968 riots. In this century, however, it has undergone a period of revitalization, during which it became a hub for arts and entertainment. The Atlas Performing Arts Center can be seen as the core of this new movement. While the resurgence has been very positive for the area, its history cannot be forgotten. Once a very ethnically diverse area of the city, the festival aims to carry that spirit into today. 

This weekend will be the last one for the festival, but there are still many events lined up. They include a community read of a Raisin in the Sun hosted by the Wooly Mammoth Theatre Company and performances from the Joy of Motion Dance Center Youth Company. The musical styling of up-and-coming local singer Christylez Bacon is also part of the festival, along with the interactive exhibition Cultural DC Tourism: Tell Your H Street NE Stories and many more events.

Though only in its first year, the Intersections Festival has already done a great deal in furthering the rich cultural landscape of the city. It offers a unique experience to enjoy, appreciate and analyze the diversity that makes up the District and our nation. Though nearly impossible to take in all the events that span the three-weekend time period, by looking through the Festival’s events, audience members can become much more aware of all the city has to offer.

For more information on the Intersections Arts Festival, check out intersectionsdc.org.

You can reach this writer at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

Wrong, apparently. The Southwest has a lot more to offer than tacos and warm weather — it’s a center for outdoor music festivals, most notably the upcoming South by Southwest (SXSW) in Austin, Texas.

Despite all the indie coolness of New York spots like the Williamsburg Hall of Music and the Bowery Ballroom, there’s something about the Northeast that just isn’t conducive to music festivals. Bamboozle lands in the Meadowlands in East Rutherford, N.J., for two days every year, but getting jostled around in a Hellogoodbye mosh pit gets tiring quickly.

Austin, however, is the perfect location for a festival like SXSW. As Texas’s cultural center, the city is littered with venues, party spots and streets just waiting to be lined with hipster kids for the annual music, film and interactive event. What sets SXSW apart from other music festivals — besides the film and interactive components, which precede the five-day music event — is the fact that there is no one location dotted with stages; instead SXSW is a city-wide affair that centers its events around the downtown Austin Convention Center and takes over the whole city.

So for any of you lucky enough to somehow be excused from classes from March 12-21, here’s your guide to SXSW 2010. For the rest of us stranded music fans, here’s the chance to live vicariously through our Southwest counterparts.

When it comes to venues, Stubb’s is Austin’s jam. Kicking off the first night of music and uniting the coasts are New York City’s the Walkmen and Austin’s own locals, Spoon. Formed in 1993 in the golden era of alternative rock, the four-piece Walkmen have released seven albums, their most recent being “Transference,” released in January. “Written in Reverse,” Spoon’s latest single is a piano-laden bar-rock song with a tinge of old-school swagger offsetting lead singer Hamilton Leithauser’s bluesy vocals. They’re kicking off their nationwide tour at Stubb’s, so anyone bummed about missing them in Austin can catch up with them on the East Coast.

Hitting the Encore Patio the Saturday of SXSW are San Francisco rockers Sleepy Sun. Before hitting the road with Arctic Monkeys, the boys are stopping by Austin to deliver their vintage brand of psychedelic rock to SXSW-ers. Fans may look forward to a performance of their nine-minute epic “Sandstorm Woman,” which rolls over listeners in a slow-motion haze of guitar licks and harmonica solos.

Anyone looking to venture out of the genre of alternative rock can look forward to Los Angeles boy-girl folk duo She & Him. Comprised of folk guitar legend M. Ward and Hollywood darling Zooey Deschanel (don’t let the singer-slash-actress label throw you off), She & Him bring a chemistry and charm not common to the jaded world of indie music. The two combine the sounds of rock and pop through the eras, even including throwback covers like a slide-guitar rendition of The Beatles’ “I Should Have Known Better.” She & Him are playing the Auditorium Shores Stage on Saturday, March 20.

Capitalizing on the trendy Austin scene are several music publications, including “Under the Radar,” who is throwing an all-ages party at Emo’s East Annex. Their latest addition to the lineup is Norwegian golden boy Sondre Lerche, who recently released his latest album “Heartbeat Radio.” Lerche’s dainty vocals float effortlessly over intricately laced melodies, making him a perfect choice for an after party event. And he looks pretty adorable in striped sweaters, meaning he’ll fit right in to Emo’s sceney vibe.

SXSW lands in Austin on March 12 and leaves March 21. With any luck, maybe next year’s event will line up with spring break, allowing for a potential temporary mass migration to the Southwest.

You can reach this staff writer at kcasino@theeagleonline.com.

Audiences know exactly what is going to happen before they set foot in the theater and “The Crazies” plans for it. The film wastes no time setting the scene and commencing the mayhem. But it is a slow-moving mayhem that knows when to jump, when to edge in dreadful anticipation and even when to settle into a quiet moment that manages to build suspense for what isn’t going horribly wrong.

Timothy Olyphant is spot on as David Dutton, a small-time sheriff with a big time problem. Alongside wife Judy (Rahda Mitchell), he is just as baffled as the audience while the residents of Ogden Marsh, Iowa, — population: 2,000 — slowly descend into murderous psychopaths, one grisly death after another. It’s a story of survival and simple fears turned into horrifying realities where the neighbors you’ve known your entire life suddenly try to impale you with a pitchfork or burn you alive and you have no idea why. Compound that fear with a military force descending on your town in full body armor with guns and gas masks, and the film is ripe for digging into our deepest fears. 

“The Crazies” sees no need to get bogged down in fan service; it features no nudity or needless humor. Not to say that the film doesn’t have its funny moments, but they are not extraneous. Instead, they are seamlessly woven into the plot in a dark laughter-against-the-madness fashion. “The Crazies” also manages to avoid over-explaining itself, instead having a quick and effective, if cursory, exposition. Even the gore stays mild for much of the first half, preferring genuine fear to grotesque displays of latex and corn syrup. This is not to say that the film doesn’t have its fair share of gruesome moments, but all are very effective without being overdone.

As pure, fright inducing horror, “The Crazies” is pulse pounding and fairly scary but never terrifying. Instead of abject nightmares, it prefers tension and thrills (although the film does manage some excellent and innovative kills including a car wash that will keep you cleaning your car in the driveway for a very long time).

Director Breck Eisner has remade George A. Romero’s original horror with thrills, momentum and a few decent chills. We understand and empathize with these characters and share their dread as the people around them start to go crazy. Enjoyable and approachable to general audiences (albeit probably dissatisfying to hardcore horror fans), “The Crazies” is a solid thrill that will leave your heart beating fast and your head completely free of nightmares — mostly.

You can reach this staff writer at bkoenig@theeagleonline.com.

“Some folks collect stamps ... I collect bitter ironies,” Rabin wrote. “So I had to savor the moment when the [nurse] staring daggers at me bitterly groused to a coworker, ‘I just don’t see why everyone thinks “The Simpsons” is so great. What’s so funny about a father who strangles his son?’ ... here she was conveying bottomless concern for an imaginary cartoon boy while betraying nothing but contempt for the squirming bundle of humanity sobbing softly six feet away.”

Last week, I experienced my own bitter irony. At a press conference of Zahi Hawass, Director-General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities, I saw a man drop a video camera on a mummy case while scrambling to film another seemingly more important mummy. In Egyptology’s Holy of Holies — the Cairo Museum’s grand lobby — I scrambled over an ancient statue of Amenhotep III, attempting to avoid being hit by a boom mic. (The God-King, incidentally, was brushed by a collapsing lamp. He’s survived worse.)

We had gathered for the unveiling of Hawass’ latest exploit: DNA extraction from Tutankhamun’s corpse in an attempt to learn more about his lineage. I attended as The Daily News Egypt’s clueless intern.

Hawass’ press conference didn’t reveal much about the boy king’s death. The news agencies following the event trumpeted some variation of “Malaria Killed King Tut,” but Hawass had argued this theme well before testing results. The test did reveal Tutankhamun to be sickly, likely a product of incestuous parents , but true Egyptologists have assumed this for years. (Tomb relics depict Tutankhamun seated on a throne, holding a bow. Only the sickliest kings shoot bows without standing.) The DNA tests’ actual substance — who Tutankhamun’s mother was, his relationship with the priest Ay succeeding him — are not yet developed.

This didn’t stop the media. The first clue was the press release shoved into my hand by a Discovery Channel Representative, announcing the times of the new special on Zahi Hawass’ latest “amazing discovery.” Discovery had collaborated with the Supreme Council to make this special and, gosh-darn-it, they planned to make sure every media outlet knew how amazing this three-hour special of lab coat-clad men measuring DNA test tubes actually was.

“Sir?” the woman asked me. “Does your paper need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re fine,” I said, flipping through the many-paged press release.

The woman offered to send me pictures, though her smile disappeared once I handed her a scribbled e-mail address rather than a pristine business card. I sat next to an Associated Press reporter, took dutiful notes, and, when the conference ended, looked on as everyone surged towards the podium.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“Everyone’s rushing the podium for coffin footage,” he responded, rushing towards the junket, pulling an audio recorder from his khaki pocket.

I followed, pen and paper pressed against my chest. In the crowd’s midst stood Hawass, standing proudly over the corpse of Tutankhamun’s mother (maybe), preening for the cameras.

Zahi Hawass inspires extreme emotions. Some love him, claiming his tenure as the Supreme Council’s director-general has single-handedly revitalized Egypt’s economy. My roommate, for instance, is still happy to recount how he managed to shake the good doctor’s hand. 

Others are less kind, claiming Hawass is a charlatan whose actions have harmed far more artifacts than they’ve preserved. The man also tends to exaggerate, referring to Valley of the King storerooms as pharaonic mothers’ long-lost tombs.

However, everyone agrees Hawass has never met a camera he did not like. Today, Hawass was in good form, posing in adventurous and thoughtful stances, undisturbed by the chaos around him. After 15 minutes, he wandered off. I assumed the conference had ended. It hadn’t. Hawass simply wanted to retrieve his hat — one modeled, of course, after Indiana Jones. He resumed posing, cameras resumed flashing and I walked away.

As I left, I saw a boy attempting to view a senet set, the ancient precursor to backgammon. It was difficult, as the cases throughout the lobby had been haphazardly shoved into corners to make room for the multitude of TV cameras.

I continued on, leaving the boy struggling to climb over the chaos to view this antique board game. Reporters rushed past me, anxious to file before the next hour.

In the lobby’s corner, a custodian dusted the light’s broken shards off King Amenhotep III, his stone face unmoved by the chaos we had just witnessed.

You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

By BEN SCHWARTZ

When one hears that Kevin Smith, the director of “Clerks,” “Mallrats” and “Dogma,” is coming out with another movie, it’s hard not to brim with excitement. Until you remember that this is also the man who directed “Clerks II” and “Jersey Girl.” That’s when it’s hard not to get nervous.

Kevin Smith’s new movie, “Cop Out,” starring Bruce Willis and Tracy Morgan, is more in the vein of those last two miserable, unfunny train wrecks than of his earlier opuses. Even the title is a bad joke. Early reviews said that it’s just like every other cop movie ever made, except worse. This perfectly pithy assessment renders the rest of this reviews redundant.

For a few minutes at the beginning, you can feel your initial optimism returning. The movie opens with the Beastie Boys’ “No Sleep Till Brooklyn” pulsing through the speakers. No song puts you more in the mood to watch a Kevin Smith movie. Like Smith, the song has a non-traditional sense of New York cool: brash, dirty, original and deliberately ugly. It’s the feel you get from people who grew up in the shadow of something glamorous and beautiful and who are never bored, because they can always fall back on their own mischievousness.

The movie opens with Paul Hodges (a zany, off-the-wall Tracy Morgan) interrogating a prisoner, watched by his partner (a stoic, yet inwardly emotional Bruce Willis) Jimmy Monroe. You can suspect from the first few minutes that you’ll be watching the same joke replayed for almost two hours: Tracy Morgan does something that people expect from Tracy Morgan, and Bruce Willis does something people expect from Bruce Willis. Watching them interact might seem funny to you now, but wait until you’re 45 minutes into “Cop Out” and you’ve been listening to Morgan’s absurd drivel and watching Willis’ knowing sneer for about as long as you can take and begin to realize that the popcorn has run out — and you’ve still got an hour left. It won’t be so funny anymore.

The typecasting extends beyond just Willis and Morgan. Seann William Scott and Susie Essman also appear in bit roles that might be funny if it was a different movie, playing basically every character they’ve ever played, and doing about as good a job as you would expect. But humor isn’t just a question of picking a few good pieces out of other movies and TV shows and throwing them together. It requires story and direction, two elements this movie seems to have forgotten. There is allegedly some sort of plot involving Mexican drug gangs, but the characters are so bad and the accents so thick that it’s not even worth going into. The same adage applies: they’re like all the other Mexican gangbangers you’ve seen in a movie, but worse — painfully worse.

While it’s painful to bash a genuinely good director like Smith, there are two mitigating factors that should make you feel less guilty. The first is that Smith did not write “Cop Out,” so with a few stretches of wishful thinking it can be banished from the Kevin Smith canon. The second is that Woody Allen made “Curse of the Jade Scorpion” and “Hollywood Ending;” in fact, he made them back-to-back, which is to say, even geniuses have their Hindenburgs. If you’re a Smith fan, just grit your teeth and force a smile through the seemingly unending 107 minutes of “Cop Out.” Or, better yet, just skip this one and wait for “Red State,” Smith’s new project that he’s actually writing and will likely be much more hilarious.

You can reach this writer at thescene@theeagleonline.com.

A LONG HISTORY
By YOHANA DESTA

Thoughts of comedian Tracy Morgan bring to mind outrageous yelling, sloppy antics and a lot of bare belly shirt-raising. And that’s not just his schtick — it’s who the man is in real life. Tracy Morgan is one of those comedians that never really needs to get into character because he already is one. In a way, it’s what makes him unforgettable as a comedian. And lately, Morgan seems to be doing quite well for himself. This year he stars in the police comedy “Cop Out” alongside Hollywood heavyweight Bruce Willis.

Morgan’s career started off slowly with random appearances in small films and movies. For a while, he landed a recurring role on Martin Lawrence’s comedic sitcom, “Martin,” which gave him a chance to really get a foot in the industry. Aside from that, Morgan was still an up-and-coming stand-up comic, performing regularly for comedy clubs in Harlem. It was not until he auditioned for “Saturday Night Live” in 1996 that he really became famous.

For the next 10 years, Morgan was a part of television’s most famous sketch comedy show. Playing characters like Uncle Jemima (which is exactly what you think it would be), Dominican Lou and African Andy, Morgan got laughs for his outrageously rude and over-the-top characterizations. These days, Morgan perfects his exaggerated character on the hilarious creation of Tina Fey, “30 Rock,” as a comedian named Tracy Jordan.

Morgan currently stars in “Cop Out” as Paul Hodges, the bumbling partner to seasoned NYPD cop Jimmy Monroe (Bruce Willis). Once a rare baseball card is stolen, pandemonium ensues and Willis and Morgan’s characters go on a chase to find it. Also in the film is longtime actor Michelle Trachtenberg, playing Ava, Monroe’s daughter. Seasoned comedian Seann William Scott plays Dave, another cop that adds to the bumbling brand of comedy the film is sure to provide.

While this is not the first time Willis has played a cop (the “Die Hard” trilogy, “Sin City”), it’s one of the first times he’s acted in an obvious comedic parody film. Willis has a natural comedic sensibility, often adding a smirking and sarcastic quality to his characters. Aside from his early brawn, it’s that certain quality that has made Willis one of Hollywood’s most famous leading men.

Willis’ films have grossed billions of dollars worldwide. The “Die Hard” trilogy itself has grossed over a billion dollars and made Willis famous worldwide. But before he became a blockbuster megastar, Willis held a number of jobs. He started off as a security guard, putting his soon-to-be-famous muscle to good use. After that, there was a period where he was a private investigator (which he later played in “The Last Boy Scout”) before he eventually went back to being a bartender in New York City. It was not until he started acting in off-Broadway plays that he actually got picked up to be in a television series —the infamous “Moonlighting,” where he acted opposite Cybil Shepherd.

What followed were the first and second “Die Hard” films, solidifying Willis’ status as a hard core actor and action hero. Willis’ next major role was in 1994’s “Pulp Fiction,” arguably one of Quentin Tarantino’s best films. Willis played Butch Coolidge, and though it was not a major role, it was critical to the film and earned him accolades for his serious acting chops, since many of his other films had been flops until that point. But you can’t talk about Bruce Willis’ career without mentioning 1999’s “The Sixth Sense.” The M. Night Shyamalan thriller was nominated for six Oscars, had a creepy and shocking plot and spawned the now-overused saying, “I see dead people.” Willis played Dr. Malcom Crowe, a psychologist who deals with the supernatural problems of a troubled little boy. The film is a thriller at its finest and forever made Willis a Hollywood icon.

With the release of “Cop Out,” Willis and Morgan are now joined together to make an unlikely but comedic duo, and it’ll be interesting to see what the two bring to the table. The film is currently out in theaters. 

You can reach this staff writer at ydesta@theeagleonline.com.