Sticks of Fire: a Tampa blog

10,000 B.C.
Directed by Roland Emmerich
Starring Steven Strait, Camilla Belle, Cliff Curtis
Rated PG-13 (violence) 110 minutes
Critic’s rating: C-

It’s tough to take cavemen seriously. In media, at least, prehistoric humans tend to come off as buffoons (Ringo Starr in “Caveman”), anachronisms (the Geico TV commercial guys) or expressionless bores (Daryl Hannah in “Clan of the Cave Bear”). Either way, the results are laughable if not always pleasant.

This week, the laugh is on filmmaker Roland Emmerich. Never known for directorial subtlety (see “Independence Day,” “Godzilla” or “The Day After Tomorrow”), Emmerich grinds primitive tribalism into soggy muck with “10,000 B.C.,” an aimless adventure that blunders between tedious treks and accidental hilarity. I mean, who knew that Europe’s earliest inhabitants had to dodge, among other perils, gigantic birdlike predators? What was that CGI critter, a Turkeysaurus?

Well, it’s not supposed to be scientific. Neither an evolutionist nor a creationist could buy into this solemn yet silly story about a dreadlocked dude (Steven Strait) whose brethren mock him because his father abandoned the tribe many years earlier. But when he more-or-less accidentally kills a woolly mammoth — in a vivid display of computer-generated hairiness and hugeness — he becomes a hero and gets to claim the prettiest, bluest-eyed babe in northern Europe (Camilla Belle).

This little triumph is short-lived, of course. Fierce invaders — called “four-legged demons” because they ride horses — conquer the hunting village and haul the residents toward lives of slavery.

Of course, that’s the kickoff for a dreary trek enlivened by occasional action sequences. The plot approximates the path of Mel Gibson’s under-appreciated jungle thriller “Apocalypto,” in which a young warrior also had to prove himself by using wits, luck and a bit of mystic magic to effect a miraculous rescue. The differences between the two movies are telling. Gibson’s tribesmen spoke an ancient tongue. Emmerich’s characters speak English — except for the villainous raiders, who speak subtitled Ice Age gibberish. And, more importantly, Gibson didn’t water down his narrative with long-winded metaphoric expositions. Omar Sharif reads the ponderous narration, its self-importance maddeningly inflated by an even more heavy-handed score.

As if to match the sprawling landscapes and blunt storytelling, the human cast members seemed determined to come off as equally wooden. Americans Strait and Belle kept their game faces on during filming in New Zealand. Kiwi star Cliff Curtis, who plays the hero’s courageous mentor, is the movie’s most notable player — the one who finds the dash of real emotion buried within a cliche-bound script.

The film’s most glaring oddities, strangely enough, are not the crazy animals. The saber-tooth tiger in the ads makes a brief but satisfying appearance. He seems downright logical compared to the geography of this overlong pursuit. Somehow, the good guys chase the kidnappers from what looks like Scandinavia to what is obviously the ancient Egyptian empire. It’s a massive CGI construction, one of the film’s visual highlights. But again, the bedraggled humans have a hard time making us care whether they can save their clan from permanent pyramid duty.

“10,000 B.C.” scatters just enough action and effects along its path to keep an audience awake, but there’s nothing new here that demands keen attention.

bobrossmovies.com

Sunday was a glorious Tampa day. The breeze was blowing, the jasmine was blooming, and the temperature was a perfect 74 degrees. To me, there is nothing better than spending as much time outside as possible on such a day. But, wait. What about breakfast?

I’ve not had a lot of breakfast luck as of late. In fact I have almost given up on the entire concept of going out for breakfast, one of my favorite outings. So in a last attempt to revitalize my belief that good breakfast does exist and it doesn’t have to be just bad diner food, I headed out for Pach’s Place.

I’ve heard a lot about Pach’s Place (pronounced Patch’s Place). Some really, really good and some just okay. I had to see for myself.

I was warned there would be a line, so upon my arrival to the almost corner of Bayshore Blvd and Bay To Bay, I wasn’t surprised when I saw the line of people staggering out of the door. That’s always a good sign, in my book.

The concept is that you wait in line until a table is open with the exact number of people you have in your party. It was a little odd for me, when I was sat before the three 105 year olds, but that’s the way it works.

(more…)

Book Review: Historic Photos of Tampa
text and captions by Ralph Brower (Turner Publishing).

Remember those carefully-packed time capsules your fourth-grade class buried in the school’s playground all those years ago? The book Historic Photos of Tampa is a time capsule of sorts, a peek into Tampa’s history, carefully packed with a variety of photos from all walks of life.

In the book’s preface, publisher Todd Bottorff states that “this book seeks to provide easy access to a valuable, objective look into Tampa history.” Using photographs from the Burgert Brothers — some not often seen in other photo collection books — Historic Photos of Tampa presents local history in four parts:

(1) Beginning of Cigar City to the Turn of the Century
(2) Tampa at the Beginning of the 20th Century
(3) The Roaring 20s, Great Depression and Economic Recovery
(4) World War II and the Baby Boom

Each chapter gives a brief, one-page summary of the local history of that era and each photograph has a caption that gives additional historical information while explaining the photo’s origins, date and subject matter. The book’s photos are marvelous. There are pictures of famous buildings, waterways, horse-drawn carriages, store marquees, parties, industries, Ybor cigar factories, traffic, parades, carnivals, buildings under construction, and a variety of people: famous, not so famous, at work, at play and walking down the street.

I wish that the captions had received as much time and attention as the photograph selection process obviously did. The captions were oddly inconsistent: some gave a great deal of information while others were short and choppy; some were carefully written and edited, while other captions — too many of them, sadly — had grammatical and typographical errors.

Overall, however, the captions are a small part of the book. Beautiful, wonderful photos are the center of Historic Photos of Tampa. The photographs are black and white, but the Tampa Bay area history is colorful.

Book Buzzometer: B+

(cross-posted at www.tampabookbuzz.com)

I heard of this little establishment via other Tampa blogs and put it high on my list to eat. Savvy Jacks, a little Parisian influenced Southern food oasis, sits just off Fowler Ave. on 56th street. It’s said to be known for the Parisian couple that owns the joint and their ability to fuse Parisian and American Southern comfort food. Well I have to try that!

I set out one Saturday afternoon with high hopes.

My hopes would not be met.

The décor was A-typical. Country French mixed with St. Pete Beach Mom & Pop. It was 1:30 when I arrived and Savvy Jacks closes at 2 PM, so the place wasn’t packed to the gills. Three other diners sat at oddly uncomfortable tables. Ya know those tables that sit amazing low and are paired with amazingly high chairs, so your thighs have to squeeze under. Hey, once upon a time I was a size 0. Not anymore!

The menu offered American breakfast staples like Biscuits and Gravy and also offered the Parisian staples, omelets, eggs benedict, and crepes. A modest Lunch section offered hot and cold sandwiches and entrees (it is typical in France to eat your biggest meal at Lunch) along with salads and deserts.

I settled on the Ham and Cheese Crepe with mixed vegetables and my Hubby choose the Biscuits and Gravy Platter. Both were nominally priced, I think both were $8 or $9. We patiently waited as we heard one of the other diners pronounce his love for the food. His exact words were “This was the best Breakfast I have ever had.” Being that the man had to be in his late forties, I thought that was an amazing commitment.

Ahhh, finally our dishes arrived. At first, both dishes looked delectably delicious. Quickly, we realized the Gravy for the biscuits was not the traditional American Sausage gravy, but rather a Béchamel sauce. That’s fine. Hell, I’m married to a classically French trained Executive Chef. I’m used to getting new pairings. Not to mention, I love Béchamel. Unfortunately, it was the blandest Béchamel I have ever had in my life. The texture was perfection, but it was like eating air. Where was the onion piqué? No bay leaf. Not even a hint of nutmeg. This was simply flour, butter, and milk. There wasn’t even any pepper. The biscuit was not cook thoroughly, leaving a taste of raw flour behind. The accompaniment, Ham, had been reheated on a flat top. I know this because the grease from the flat top still dripped off the Ham. The potatoes were all right. No seasoning would be found here either. I actually had to use the salt and peppershaker on the table, something I rarely do. They would be good at a greasy spoon diner, but this place?

The Ham and Cheese crepe was just as disappointing. The crepe was nothing special and was filled with shredded cheddar cheese and sliced deli ham that had that familiar flat top grease dripping off of it. Béchamel topped the crepe, again, a tasteless sauce. The mixed vegetables, which were almost Ratatouille, were awful. They had the potential to be very good. It was obvious the vegetables were cubed fresh, but there was NO seasoning and they had been cooked on that greasy flat top. So much that the veggies laid in their puddle of flat top grease.

I kept wondering as I shoveled greasy yellow squash into my mouth and nodded with a smile as the waitress asked how things were going. What the hell did that guy have that made it the best breakfast he’d ever eaten? Perhaps my Mother-in-law had cooked for him the 40 something year’s prior.

This was an extremely disappointing visit. You be the judge.

11401 N 56th St # 22
Tampa, FL 33617
(813) 914-8804

When I started ninebullets.net I had these naive fantasies of sprinkling local Florida bands into my daily musical ramblings, and thus giving them an even larger audience outside of the local area. After a few months of working on the site, I started sending out emails. I quickly learned that, by and large, the Tampa/St. Pete based bands are arrogant and lazy. There are a few exceptions, but as a rule it was like beating your head against a wall. They bitch about the scene not supporting them, but then can’t even be bothered to reply to a few emails. Ultimately, I just gave up and began ignoring them like the rest of the area.

Oddly enough, however, the Florida bands outside of our little Tampa Bay area have been far more receptive to my inquiries, which has resulted in some pieces on ninebullets, and me getting to hear some really awesome bands that I probably never would have heard otherwise.

The Nine Volts have applied an amazing amount of effort into getting me a cd. When I originally contacted them, they were in the process of recording their new EP and asked if I would mind waiting. I told them I had nothing but time and whiskey bottles. Over the coming months they even managed to email me from time to time just to let me know they had not forgotten and were still working on the cd. This was all way above the call of duty in my opinion but it was nice to see a band act in an organized manner and apply a little effort.

The Nine Volts are James Mitchell and Conrad Wilson. They come from the Space Coast area that is Cape Canaveral, Florida. After playing in numerous successful local indie (author: ick) acts, the two decided to build on their common love of the Americana/roots rock sound and formed The Nine Volts. After honing their act on stage, they entered the studio to record an eponymous five song EP.

IMO, the standout track on the EP is “B. Jolene”. Sounding like The Drive-By Truckers, stuck right between the Southern Rock Opera sound and the Decoration Day song writing. “All From Here” features an acoustic guitar and a banjo taking the top of the mix, with a spoken word delivery laid beneath that, for some reason, reminds me of being 16 again. The opening track “Broken Chains” immediately makes me think Roger Hoover (or whatever they are calling themselves these days) could have done it.

Seeing as how this thing is a mere 5 songs I am only gonna post two. The entire EP is available at Nine Volts shows and on iTunes. Check it out. Support the little guys.

The Nine Volts - B. Jolene
The Nine Volts - River

The Nine Volts Official Site, The Nine Volts on MySpace, Buy their debut EP

It was with lowered expectations and a warm whiskey buzz that I walked into Janus last week for my second Cult show in a year. Last time I saw them, I felt a little let down because they didn’t sound like The Cult I had remembered from 17 years ago. I knew what I was walking into this time and was quite familiar with the new material, so I felt like I was gonna be in for a good show.

Ian, Billy and crew took the stage and ran through an acceptable mixing of their new material, buffered with all the classics Cult fans wanted to hear. Time is a bitch, though, especially if you are a singer. With age comes vocal degradation. Ian still sounds like Ian, but he just can’t perform the songs in the same manner that he did 17 years ago. This put me off last year, but this year I went in knowing how it was gonna be, and like Jimi Hendrix said, “If you wanna hear it the way it sounds on the album, stay home and listen to the album.” That said, Ian performed the new material perfectly.

Lucky for Billy, time is much kinder to guitarists and he was spot on. All in all, I am glad I went to see them even after being somewhat disappointed by the last show. I had a much better time and would recommend that any long time Cult fan go see them again. Enjoy it, but remember, you can’t do the sh*t you used to do 17 years ago, and neither can Mr. Astbury… but that doesn’t make it rock any less.

The Cult - King Contrary Man
The Cult - Edie
The Cult - I, Assassin
The Cult - Born Into This

The Cult’s Official Site, The Cult on MySpace, Buy Born Into This

(crossposted from www.ninebullets.net)

Sharkwater — Rob Stewart devotes himself to studying, swimming with and explaining the world’s sharks. He’s also a gifted filmmaker, with a keen eye for underwater beauty and a nose for corruption. That’s how this astonishing documentary turns into a thriller on the high seas, as Stewart stumbles upon a Costa Rican shark-poaching operation run by Asian gangsters.

You might be surprised to learn that sharks avoid humans more desperately than we avoid them. Indeed, greedy fishermen are destroying the world’s shark population to satisfy the demand for shark fin soup. These amazing fish — vital to the ocean’s ecosystem — are caught, maimed (their dorsal fins are worth a lot on the black market) and tossed back to die slowly.

Sharkwater is a personal nonfiction film of the highest order — it’s gorgeous to look at while it creates a powerful awareness.

A-

The Heartbreak Kid — We hate it when Hollywood hacks uproot a classic comedy and turn it into disposable mush. It happened with “The In-Laws” and now we get this obnoxious update of the 1972 favorite. Although each film is a farcical look at a real jerk — a guy who falls in love with another woman while on his honeymoon — the differences are devastating. On the one hand, you have Neil Simon (who still gets screenplay credit that I’m betting he would rather not have). On the modern end, you get the Farrelly brothers.

You know the Farrellys. Dumb and Dumber. Stuck on You. Lowbrow, gross-out, profane and modern. This time, Peter and Bobby rejoin their “Something About Mary” star Ben Stiller for a string of embarrassing foul-ups and predicaments. That’s Stiller’s specialty, and he can get a laugh with his shabby missteps. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer Neil Simon’s wordplay and character development to the Farrellys’ bodily-function humor. On the other hand, if you’ve always wanted to see a girl with a private piercing urinate on the skin of a jellyfish sting victim, then this one’s for you.

C-

The Jane Austen Book Club — The title tells you the truth: This is indeed a literate chick flick. It’s an ensemble piece for women who read, and for men who appreciate the nuances of Austen’s novels. The author’s wit and observations hold up 200 years later. Even better, writer-director Robin Swicord has adapted Karen Joy Fowler’s book into a fairly brisk study of assorted modern relationships.

The plot is simple enough. Six Californians form a club that meets monthly to discuss an Austen title. That means we get six months (i.e., chapters) for the main stories to develop. Five of the members are female, the sixth being a bachelor bicyclist (Hugh Dancy) who’s dreamy enough to be a present-day Mr. Darcy himself. The women are played by Maria Bello, Emily Blunt, Amy Brenneman, Kathy Baker and Maggie Grace. Each has issues, all are sympathetic and easy to watch.

Come on, guys. Give your date a break from blood and guts one time. It won’t hurt a bit.

B

The Seeker: The Dark Is Rising — So you miss Harry Potter already and you’re tired of waiting for a Narnia sequel? Well, this kiddie fantasy-adventure will give you a watered-down fix that might hold you a while. It’s about a 14-year-old boy who is apparently the sole heir of some mystic power that can save humanity from evil forces. You know, the usual stuff — shape-shifting creatures, billowing clouds, massive swarms of black birds and unscrupulous villains with magic powers of their own.

The effects are unobtrusive, the actors competent and the story predictably busy. Alexander Ludwig plays the young hero, with Ian McShane and Frances Conroy as the leaders of the good-guy faction that faces doom from a nasty wizard called The Rider (Christopher Eccleston). The plot involves six enchanted objects, scattered through time, that must be collected before the bad guys can wreck the Earth. Time Bandits was more fun.

Still, the action is suitable for youngsters (it’s rated PG), so don’t expect anything on the intensity level of Lord of the Rings. This is mild stuff meant for kids. And if it catches on there will be sequels. But we wouldn’t bet on it.

B-

The Kite Runner (opens Oct. 19) — Set partly in the U.S. but mainly in Afghanistan, this story of friendship and family features unknown actors in sharply realized performances. Director Marc Forster (”Finding Neverland”) takes us into the life and culture of Afghanistan in this drama, based on a best-seller, about a writer in San Francisco who recalls his youth in Kabul and returns there on a mission to help his childhood buddy.

Beautifully photographed (with China subbing for the Afghani locations) by Roberto Schaefer, this stirring tale truly transports us to a land that defies our expectations.

B+

In the Shadow of the Moon — An eloquent, surprisingly moving documentary about the men who walked on the moon. Told in smartly edited blends of close-up interview footage and clips from news archives and actual Apollo missions. It’s a simple as it sounds, but you’ll be impressed with how it holds you rapt as these aging astronauts share memories that no other humans can share. Oddest point: Neil Armstrong declined to participate. The other guys cover for him nicely.

B+

We Own the Night (opens Oct. 12) — The title is the motto of an NYPD violent crime unit, and the film delivers brutal action in the context of family conflict. Writer-director James Gray rejoins his co-stars from “The Yards,” Mark Wahlberg and Joaquin Phoenix. This time, the actors portray brothers on opposite sides of the law. Wahlberg is the “good” son, a police lieutenant following the path of his much-admired father, the chief (Robert Duvall, always a treat even in a familiar role). Phoenix plays the other son, a nightclub manager whose clientele includes some extremely disreputable characters. The clashes here are violent — physically and emotionally — and the story is set in 1988, when drug dealers threatened to overrun the city.

The characters seem conventional here, but the three stars make them fun to watch even as we notice plot holes, anachronisms and stale twists. Think of it as an unusually sensitive crime thriller.

B-

Gone Baby Gone (opens Oct. 19) — Yes, Ben Affleck can direct. The much-derided actor and Oscar-sharing screenwriter (with Matt Damon, remember?) makes an impressive debut behind the camera with this crime thriller that goes in directions we won’t even hint at. It would spoil the kick in this twisted tale about a novice detective (younger brother Casey Affleck, showing surprising new depths) and the kidnapping of a 4-year-old girl.

It’s based on a novel by Dennis Lehane, who sets it among the blunt, blue-collar Bostonians who also inhabited his “Mystic River” script. This time, a distraught aunt and uncle hire the young private eye because the police unit on the case (Morgan Freeman plays their leader) isn’t getting results.

It’s best not to know too much more before seeing the movie. Just be aware that morality has at least two sides this time around. Director Affleck, who shares writing credit, keeps the dialogue moving almost as fast as the chases and surprises. It’s not as memorable as “The Departed,” but it brings a similar Boston accent and rapid-fire convolution to the police-procedural genre.

B+

This time of year used to be full of tripe and leftovers — the stuff that’s too tame for summer box-office and too lame for year-end awards.

Not this season. We screened seven flicks this week, and the results were pleasantly surprising.

Here’s a quick rundown:

The Brave One — Jodie Foster, Terrence Howard. Director NeiI Jordan unleashes an updated Death Wish, with Foster as a radio talker who responds to a devastating criminal attack by buying a gun and offing thugs. Howard is the cop who suspects and respects her. Powerful action and tension overcome a predictable, manipulative script. Besides, we like Jodie Foster, even when she’s riffing on Charles Bronson. B-

Eastern Promises — Director David Cronenberg and star Viggo Mortensen continue what they started with A History of Violence. This time, the crime saga is set among Russian mobsters in New York. Naomi Watts plays a midwife who enters that dark, dangerous world when she tries to find the father of an infant rescued from its freshly murdered mother. Armin Mueller-Stahl is also terrific as a grandfatherly gang boss. One of the year’s best thrillers, but not for the squeamish. There’s a lot of blood, and Mortensen’s hand-to-hand fight for his life in a steam bath is a scene not to be forgotten. A-

In the Valley of Elah — Writer-director Paul Haggis (”Crash”) delivers a compelling mystery starring Tommy Lee Jones as a retired MP determined to find out how and why his son died soon after returning from combat in Iraq. The detective angle is superbly constructed, and Haggis adds elements that make us wonder about the effects of prolonged battle duty on otherwise wholesome young men. Harrowing stuff, with an award-worthy performance by Jones. Charlize Theron is also excellent as a local cop who breaks the rules to help him. B+

Sydney White — At 21, Amanda Bynes is becoming one of the top young actresses around. In this cleverly updated “Snow White” spinoff, she plays a normal gal whose arrival at college is marred by a mean-spirited wicked witch of a sorority president (Sara Paxton). Our heroine finds refuge in a dilapidated house occupied by seven dorks. (Seven dorks, get it?) Fairy-tale conventions merge neatly into a revenge-of-the-nerds plot, with plenty of witty lines and feel-good twists. A surprsingly neat treat. B

Across the Universe — Director Julie Taymor assembled this ’60s romance, in which the characters sing (or perhaps butcher) Beatle songs to express themselves as they learn about antiwar protests, psychedelia and love, love, love. Young unknowns (except Bono and Eddie Izzard in cameos) croon the tunes in way that would embarrass professional singers and make old Beatlemaniacs cringe. Some of the visuals are interesting, but overall I’d rather watch that godawful “Sgt. Pepper” with Peter Frampton and the BeeGees. C-

The Hunting Party — Richard Gere and Terrence Howard star as iconoclastic war correspondents on the trail of a Serbian war criminal. Gere is superb as the rule-breaking rogue and Howard matches him as the cameraman with common sense outweighed by his sense of friendship and adventure. Fun and war games from writer-director Richard Shepherd. B

The King of Kong — Fascinating documentary about the geeks who devote their lives to vintage video games, particularly Donky Kong. The players might be hopeless nerds, but the competition is fierce and not always fair. An eye-opening peek into a pathetic subculture. B+

See you at www.bobrossmovies.com

Rock Report: Jason Isbell @ Crowbar, Ybor City

Designated Driver. Music to my ears when the show is across the bridge. The wife volunteered to do the driving duties, so I broke the seal on a bottle of Beam early for this show. Gone solo or not, Isbell, in my opinion, is still part of the Trucker family and half a bottle deep is the best way to start a night at the rock show. Common decency dictates the whole deal. The last time the Truckers were in town, they played to a packed Jannus Landing, and on the way to the show I wondered how that would translate for Isbell. The crowd was significantly reduced compared to the Jannus show, but it was still bigger than most for an artist touring on their debut cd.

Jason and his band took the stage with the familiar Jack Daniels bottle in hand, and in that single moment I knew everything was gonna be okay. Opening the show with “Brand New Kind of Actress”, the same track that opens the cd, gave me a moment of worry. Ever since I saw Social Distortion play their new cd track by track, in order, and then walk off stage, I have worried when a show opens with the first track from the current album. Five minutes later, though, all my worries were squashed as Jason started picking the familiar opening riffs of “Decoration Day”… and the crowd went wild. From there, the band played a good mix of songs from Sirens, spiced with DBT familiars, and a few covers to round out the set. The crowd favorites were obviously Jason’s old DBT tracks “Outfit” and “Never Gonna Change”. Walking in, I wanted to hear two songs, my very favorite Isbell song, “Goddamn Lonely Love”, and my favorite track from the new cd “Try”. He managed to get both into the set, so I went home drunk and happy.

In closing, I would like to type a few lines about the band itself. Ever since Jason went solo, I have wondered about the 400 Unit. Was it really Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, or was it Jason Isbell and a revolving cast of players that were gonna heretofore be known as the 400 Unit? While I will not pretend to actually know anything beyond what anyone can see, standing out in front of a stage and watching them play, they certainly seemed to be a band and not a front guy with some hired guns. They were tighter than I expected them to be, and guitarist Browan Lollar even got to take over lead singer duties during a rather spirited cover of The Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer”. Speaking of Lollar, whew, did Jason find himself a gem in that guy! That kid has got so much stage presence and charisma oozing out of him that I found it hard to watch the rest of the band at times. Oh yeah, and the boy can play the hell out of a guitar as well.

All in all, I was really happy with Jason’s creation. I hope he keeps this lineup for the next cd and I look forward to hearing what Jason does now that this has his undivided attention.

Jason Isbell - Brand New Kind of Actress
Jason Isbell - Try

Drive-By Truckers - Never Gonna Change
Drive-By Truckers - Goddamn Lonely Love

Pictures of the show are available here.