"The Shape of Things": we also would have accepted "The Aspect of Stuff"

Neil LaBute, how dare you make me hate watching Paul Rudd, Rachel Weisz, and Gretchen Mol.

It's on the scale of making false claims to justify the invasion of a middle eastern country, or making a fat kid hate untended jars of cake frosting.

Not only was Neil LaBute's boring and predictable 2003 film adaptation of his boring and predictable 2001 play of the same name both boring and predictable, he didn't even give us the satisfaction of having Paul Rudd punch Rachel Weisz in the face while wearing a bear suit.

Rachel Weisz plays a hipster art student who turns a fat and frumpy Paul Rudd into a skinny preppy sissy Paul Rudd. Did we mention she's an art student? And did you see the tag line "SEDUCTION IS AN ART"? I wonder what will happen at the end of the movie. Do you think it'll work out between Paul Rudd and Rachel Weisz? I really hope it does!

I love Paul Rudd, Rachel Weisz, and Gretchen Mol. They're all talented and funny actors. I would love to have sex with Weisz or Mol, and if he liquored me up enough I'd probably let Rudd get to second base. Watching these three talented actors, and Peter Weller's cousin (really!) chit chat for this movie's ninety minute run time is about as engaging, interesting, and thought-provoking as watching a 60 Minutes special on Spencer Pratt while systematically inserting the shards of a shattered chandelier from Radio City Music Hall into your anus.

I honestly cannot remember why, but for one of my sophomore-year media analysis classes we had this movie as one of our screenings. When it was announced to the 200+ students in the lecture, one guy in the back gasped "YES!". He was the That Guy of that class, and now he spends his days uploading unfunny clips of himself doing open mics at great LA comedy clubs to Youtube. This guy was an utter douchebag that everyone at my school despised. Don't be That Guy. That Guy loves "The Shape of Things".

TOO MUCH: pretentious dialogue, predictable endings, obvious platitudes passed off as lofty insights

COULD HAVE USED MORE: Paul Rudd reluctantly picking up silverware and throwing children from moving vans

IHYFM RATING: ONE MEH out of FIVE MEHS

IF YOU SAID THIS WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE, I'D THINK: You are a pretentious art or theater snob, or you are a clinically insane mass-murderer-to-be. For the record, those are basically the same things.

Friday Film Snob Focus: Quentin Tarantino

Quentin Tarantino.

The mere mention of his name makes little pee stains in the trousers of casual and obsessive film fans alike.

He's the Prince of Pastiche. The God of Geekery. The D-something of Dialogue.

There's not much you can say about Quentin that hasn't already been said, but whether you love him or hate him, Tarantino's mark on modern cinema is as undeniable as Scorcese's influence on him. Tarantino made a splash with his debut film. When the Hollywood establishment, still coming off a decade of coke-fueled disasters, continued to turn out generic and predictable action flicks, Tarantino thrilled audiences with one of his best, and certainly most original works, "Reservoir Dogs" (I say this with some irony as it's heavily influenced by the Hong Kong thriller "City on Fire"; it's original in the Tarantino sense as it basically borrows from only one movie). Whereas your average late 80's/early 90's thriller pushed for bigger, faster, and easier-to-understand action, "Dogs" is slow and deliberate, like the old wives' tale about throwing a frog in a pot of water before bringing it to a boil. As he would do time and time again throughout his career, he painstakingly doles out information and gently increases the tension to its breaking point, which is as brutal as it is brief.

With "Reservoir Dogs", Tarantino established his most oft used trademarks - extended scenes of dialogue, playing with time, and brutal violence, either explicit or implied [Tarantino shot his famous ear-cutting scene from three total different angles, but decided it was most effective when we didn't see the actual act]. In each successive film, though, Tarantino slowly reveals his passion for pastiche and commentary on movies and movie making.

"Pulp Fiction" takes cues from some obscure sources - the adrenaline needle part is taken from an interview in a documentary Scorcese directed in 1976, "American Boy", the dancing scene with Travolta and Thurman bears distinct similarities to Goddard's "Bande a part", the watch scene was lifted from the "Bubble Boy" episode of "Seinfeld"... the list goes on and on. As his career progressed, Tarantino's film-nerd references became more diverse and obvious, most successfully with "Kill Bill", which pays homage to basically every genre of film since 1895's "Train Pulling Into Station". So far as his commentary is concerned, "Jackie Brown" with its reflections on blaxploitation films of the 70's by turning those conventions on their head with their same star, Pam Grier, is his most successful and challenging work.

Perhaps the best tribute to Tarantino's legacy is how his work has affected films of the last two decades. It's said that imitation is the greatest form of flattery, and since his rise to prominence in the mid-90's, you can't seem to get away from seemingly (or actually) pointless dialogue, intense violence, dark humor, genre bending, and film references. Of course, Tarantino was far from the first to use any of these techniques, but his flair and distinct touch with each is undeniable.

Love him, hate him: most refined movie goers feel a little bit of both for the most original, and plagiarising, director in Hollywood.

BASIC TARANTINO: "Reservoir Dogs", "Pulp Fiction", "Kill Bill", "Inglourious Basterds"

INTERMEDIATE TARANTINO: "Death Proof", "True Romance" (written by)

ADVANCED TARANTINO: "Jackie Brown"

"Friday Film Snob Focus", sure to be an immensely popular feature, will focus on a director, actor, or genre of film that will get you thinking the way a film snob does. Depending on your circle of friends, this will either lead to you being the life of the party, or you spending the party alone, angrily sipping your beer and judging the hosts' DVD collection. We're betting on the latter.

"The Hangover": inexplicably enormously successful

I am not sure I am fully prepared for the shit storm I'm about to bring onto myself, but it needs to be said.

"The Hangover" was not that funny.

That's not to say I didn't appreciate it, in fact quite the opposite. It was somehow gratifying to see Todd Phillips strike gold with a cast of relative unknowns. "The Daily Show" and "The Office" alum Ed Helms. "Comedians of Comedy" scene-stealer Zach Galifianakis. "Wet Hot American Summer" jaw-line Bradley Cooper. That dude that played the groom.

I've long been a fan of the stand up of Galifianakis, ever since seeing him live in 2003 when he opened for Janeane Garofalo at my university. I'd never seen anything like it. His utterly deadpan delivery, stream-of-consciousness turn-of-phrase quips, and willingness to get as silly or highbrow as necessary for a laugh, is truly something to see, especially if he comes back on stage to acknowledge a standing ovation without any pants. If you have Netflix, incidentally, you can watch both the aforementioned documentary "The Comedians of Comedy" or his special "Live at The Purple Onion" with the Watch It Now feature. Come back when you're finished.

Without Zach Galifianakis along for the ride, punctuating scenes with his absurdity, this movie would have been just another comedy to drop out of the box office by week number three. Phillips' bold decision to showcase Zach, combined with the fact 2009 has been an awfully weak year for comedies, is what I attribute to "The Hangover" becoming the summer phenomenon it turned out to be.

Let me repeat that - an overall weak year for mainstream comedies, and the non-sequitor genius of Zach Galifianakis, is why this movie worked.

I saw "The Hangover" with a bunch of buddies opening weekend. We were in a packed theater, and we'd prefaced the show with a few rounds of drinks. I even had a little supply on hand to spike our Diet Cokes (we're very health conscious) as necessary. This packed theater, with a half-row of buzzed comedy fans, on opening weekend of an anticipated movie that didn't yet have the opportunity to be ruined by water-cooler conversation, was, for the most part, silent the duration of the movie.

There were no explosive group guffaws. Just scattered chuckles. The closest the theater got to hysterics was the final slide show with Zach in the elevator getting the full "Brown Bunny" treatment, and it was more shock and disgust than laughter.

Phillips' two previous best efforts, "Old School" and "Road Trip", stand above "The Hangover" in my mind for two reasons - better overall plot lines from start to finish, and bigger laugh moments. Think Will Ferrel streaking or lighting himself on fire, or Tom Green trying to compel a snake to eat a mouse. "The Hangover" with all its wandering and only intermittently amusing detours, feels sluggish in comparison. And, sadly, the movie's biggest asset, Galifianakis, could be considered its biggest detractor as well. His comedy and delivery is funny because it's so incredibly deadpan, muted, and absurd. Instead of ramping up the movie, though, it often pumps the brakes. And when Galifianakis is the biggest driving force behind a scattered hit-and-miss plot, that just makes for an okay comedy.

TOO MUCH: Mike Tyson, Rob Riggle subplot, undeserved media hype

COULD HAVE USED MORE: Heather Graham (only because I've had a wild crush on her since "Swingers", and weird sexual fantasies about her since "Boogie Nights"), rewrites, Bradley Cooper improvisation

FILM SNOB NOTE: Todd Phillips was, in the words of comedian Patton Oswalt, in 'comedy jail' due to "School For Scoundrels" and barely got this movie green lit. Since the success of "The Hangover", he's flush with eleven projects in the pipeline. Also, this is possibly funnier than anything Cooper and Zach did in the movie.

IHYFM RATING: THREE out of FIVE MEHS

IF YOU TOLD ME THIS WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE, I'D THINK: This was the only comedy you'd ever seen.

Think I'm wrong? Let me have it in the comments.

"Tootsie": the original Mrs. Doubtfire

In the beginning, there was Dustin Hoffman.

Actually, in the beginning, there was Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon. But the final film of the 2009 Chicago Outdoor Film Festival was not "Some Like It Hot". Rather, the final offering of the summer was Sydney Pollack's 1982 straight-man-in-drag romp "Tootsie", which unfortunately lacks the gams of one Ms. Marilyn Monroe, but more than makes up for it with Bill Murray calling Dustin Hoffman a slut.

Whereas Robin Williams donned a dress to win back his family, and Jack and Tony did it to flee the mob, Dustin buys a new wardrobe and starts watching his calorie intake when his stubborn attitude makes it impossible for him to find acting work.

The ensuing balance of plot lines between Hoffman, his roommate Bill Murray, his quasi-girlfriend Teri Garr, his agent, director Sydney Pollack; his workplace love interest Jessica Lange, and his potential suitors Charles Durning and George Gaynes is the stuff of screenwriting manual legend. There's more story packed into the two-hour run-time than your average television show has all season. In case you were wondering, I probably hate your favorite television show as well.

Aside from the deft juggling of multiple stories, what makes "Tootsie" still relevant almost thirty years later is how it deals with the subject matter at hand. Hoffman becomes an overnight sensation because he uses his female character to talk frankly about female empowerment to a national audience. What makes it work in the context of the movie, and both relevant to when the movie was made as well as today, is that "Tootsie" acknowledges the ideas at play are not easily boiled down. Most poignantly, this is illustrated in two scenes with Hoffman and Lange. In the first, Lange confides in a Tootsie'd Hoffman that sometimes she wishes a man would approach her and be blunt about wanting to sleep with her. In the second, an undisguised Hoffman finds himself at a party with Lange, and he tries the tactic. It backfires, in the form of a glass-full of champagne getting thrown in his face.

In addition to addressing women's issues without dumbing them down or waxing poetic, "Tootsie" also admirably handles the obvious issue raised by a man in drag, namely, whether or not Hoffman is gay, or for that matter, Tootsie is a lesbian. In one of the funniest scenes of the movie, which tragically is not to be found on Youtube, Hoffman and Pollack discuss why he needs to quit the show as soon as possible because the constantly shifting gender roles are wreaking havoc on Hoffman's psyche. Despite multiple come-ons and potential love interests for Tootsie, and the extreme preparations and wardrobe considerations Hoffman must make, there are no cheap homophobic laughs in "Tootsie". Even an undodgeable kiss is dealt with only inasmuch as Hoffman didn't expect or want it - there is not even a hint of a reaction like Jim Carrey's when he figures out "Einhorn is a man" (3:00). Similar to the hysterical last beat of "Some Like It Hot", the revelation that Hoffman was in drag is met by the would-be suitors only with surprise, not with shock or disgust.

Most importantly, though, the lasting legacy of "Tootsie" throughout the years is simple: it's effing hysterical.

TOO MUCH: Early 80's synthpop soundtrack, latecomers blocking my view at the outdoor venue

COULD HAVE USED MORE: Bill Murray, Geena Davis in her underwear

FILM SNOB NOTES: Director Sydney Pollack finally relented to Hoffman's request he play the part of the agent when Hoffman threatened to quit; "Tootsie" earned Hoffman his fifth Oscar nomination for Best Actor; Bill Murray improvised every line he had in the film

IHYFM RATING: FOUR AND A HALF out of FIVE MEHS

IF YOU SAID THIS WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE, I'D THINK: You either A) are a screenwriter in the sense you've bought a copy of McKee's "Story", B) have strong opinions about J Crew's fall line, or C) just have pretty good taste in movies

"Inglourious Basterds" alter history; spelling

Prior to sitting down for Quentin Tarantino's latest two-plus hour homage to films he didn't make, films he did, gratuitous violence, verbose dialogue, comments about movie making with his movie making, and bare women's feet, I had to take a leak. In the men's room, a gent close to my age was violating a cardinal rule of Man Etiquette - Thou Shall Not Have A Boring Cell Phone Conversation Whilst Aiming Your Johnson Into A Urinal. He ended the conversation thusly:

"Hey man, I have to go... I'm about to see the new Brad Pitt movie."

Film Snobbery 101: even if he resurrected Orson Welles, Ghengis Kahn, and Jesus for the lead roles, you ALWAYS refer to a new Quentin Tarantino movie as "the new Quentin Tarantino movie".

His faux pas was even more apparent some three hours later: if you've seen the trailers for "Inglourious Basterds", you've seen pretty much every scene with Pitt and his Misspelled Miscreants.

This is a classic Tarantino bait-and-switch. Make the audience think one thing, and show them the opposite. Think he's going to tell a story in chronological order? Not going to happen. Think there's going to be a massive and protracted fight scene between Uma Thurman and David Carradine? Blink and you'll miss it. Think a movie about a covert squad of Nazi-skull-bashing Jewish-American soldiers will actually be about a covert squad of Nazi-skull-bashing Jewish-American soldiers? You can suck on Tarantino's Vincent Gallo, if you get my drift.

Instead, "Inglourious Basterds" focuses more on a Jew-hunting SD officer, Colonel Hans Landa, played by the fantastic scenery-chewing Christoph Waltz, and the owner of a small Parisian movie theater, Shosanna Dreyfus, played by Melanie Laurent. The Basterds, if they're able to improvise, will have an opportunity to blow a bunch of Nazi brass to the Great Big Nuremberg In The Sky, but not before a lot of Tarantino-styled slow-pace build-up-the-suspense conversation.

Paying homage to any number of spaghetti westerns, the most notable parallel being the first scene in "Basterds" and the first in "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly," Tarantino again and again showcases his ability to painstakingly ratchet up the tension of a scene with the threat of violence and absence of key information. Whether someone is enjoying a strudel or about to get their head smashed with a Louisville Slugger, Tarantino will make you laugh, gasp, and holy balls, will he make you wait. If this happens to be your cup of tea, you're in luck - "Basterds" seems to be, more or less, about five long, intense conversations interspersed with quick laughs, a dash of Mike Myers, and some good ol' fashioned knife violence.

The aggregate professional reviews seem to herald the same point, namely, the scenes are fantastic individually but don't seem to quite add up to a complete movie. Fair enough, aggregated professional reviewers. With Tarantino, though, the journey is always more important than the destination. With "Inglourious Basterds", the sum is less than the funny, brutal, and shocking parts, but with individual parts that are so much fun, the sum doesn't really matter.

TOO MUCH: foot fetishism, gratuitous Samuel L. Jackson and Harvey Keitel 'cameos'

COULD HAVE USED MORE: Nazi torture, Brad Pitt's southern drawl, forgotten 70's superhits

FILM SNOB NOTE: A face projected in smoke is the coolest "Sunset Boulevard" visual quote you will ever see.

IHYFM RATING: ABOUT FOUR out of FIVE MEHS

IF YOU SAID THIS WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE, I'D THINK: You haven't seen "Reservoir Dogs", "Pulp Fiction", or "Kill Bill", or, you like BJ "Ryan the Temp" Novak so much you're willing to sit through a two-and-a-half-hour movie to hear him deliver six lines.

Why you have terrible taste in movies

Just face it. You have terrible taste in movies.

Your taste is terrible because you have friends with terrible taste. Your local movie critic has terrible taste. Most the movies you have seen have been #1 at the box office, which means you see movies that most Americans have seen. This, in of itself, is irrefutable proof that you have terrible taste.

Luckily for you, you've found me. My taste could kick the ever-loving shit out of your taste. My taste is sophisticated. My taste is top-tier educated. My taste wants to reach out to your taste and mentor it into a taste you can be proud of, a taste that will shame the taste of your idiot friends.

I will share my taste with you in the form of movie reviews for both current and past releases. I trust if you read enough, my taste will become your taste, and then, through the transitive property, you will have good taste.

Be forwarned, though: even though my taste is far superior to your taste, my taste, for whatever reason, which we will soon explore, liked "Step Brothers".