Australian singer also prepping U.S. tour and re-release of his 2006 album. By Gil Kaufman Gotye Photo: Eleven Gotye has scored the longest-running #1 hit on the Billboard Hot 100 chart with “Somebody That I Used To Know.” So if one hit is good, 10 must be better, right? That seems to be the logic behind the upcoming release of a “Somebody” remix album, which, according to The Hollywood Reporter , is scheduled to drop on iTunes June 8 and feature reworkings of the song by Adrock, Tiesto, Gang of Colours, Bibio, M-Phazes, Faux Pas, 4Frnt, Sneaker For, Dan Aux and Miami Nights 1984. “Somebody” just marked its seventh week at #1, passing the year’s other inescapable single, fun.’s “We Are Young,” which held the top spot for six weeks. And if you’re psyched about that Gotye bounty, you’ll be even more excited to hear that the singer’s Australia-only 2006 sophomore album, Like Drawing Blood , will get re-released in the U.S. in July. But wait, there’s more! Gotye will kick off a 33-date North American tour on August 22 in Denver, Colorado at the legendary Red Rocks Amphitheatre with support from Chairlift, Missy Higgins and Zammuto, but, alas, not Kimbra, the other voice heard on “Somebody.” Along the way, the tour will take Gotye to a number of landmark events and venues, including the Bumbershoot Music and Arts Festival, Los Angeles’ Greek Theatre, New York’s Radio City Music Hall, Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium and Austin, Texas, where he’ll wrap things up on October 13 with a slot at the Austin City Limits festival. The dates for Gotye’s North American tour:
‘Amazing Spider-Man’ actress will accept the first-ever Trailblazer Award at Sunday’s MTV Movie Awards. By Josh Wigler Emma Stone Photo: Getty Images Emma Stone is a trailblazer. That’s not hyperbole, it’s fact: Just watch the MTV Movie Awards this Sunday and you’ll see for yourself when Stone accepts the first-ever MTV Trailblazer Award . The prize speaks for itself! It’s no secret that Stone’s a favorite around these parts. What’s not to love? She’s spunky, talented and bold in her choices both on and off the screen. Don’t believe us? We’ll prove it! Here are seven other reasons Emma is more than deserving of the inaugural MTV Trailblazer Award. Video ID:
This just in from Disney HQ: After bashing records across the globe, The Avengers will go from puny Earthbound box office domination to the final frontier, screening for six lucky multinational cosmonauts currently in orbit: “Marvel Studios announced today that they arranged with NASA to transfer their record-breaking blockbuster film Marvel’s The Avengers to NASA’s Mission Control in Houston, which will uplink the film to the International Space Station (ISS), currently orbiting 220 miles above Earth. The film will then be screened for the space station crew’s exclusive enjoyment.” (Take that, Pentagon !) Keep an eye out for Loki up there fellas, eh? [Press release]
Filmmaker Chris Eyre made his name with his 1998 debut Smoke Signals , a delicate indie adapted from a short story by Sherman Alexie about two young men living on the Coeur D’Alene Indian Reservation who go an a road trip to retrieve the belongings of one’s recently deceased estranged father. It was a small, wistful thing that offered a look at characters and a community that don’t get a lot of time on screen. Hide Away, Eyre’s newest work — since Smoke Signals he’s made four features that have mostly headed to TV — is in the same emotional vein as that first film, but heads away from the rez for a setting that’s more figurative and characters that are more generic (by choice, though it’s also a problem). It’s a slender story of mourning that manages some lovely bits of mood while also being dreary and a little preposterous in its spareness. Josh Lucas does a heroic amount to ground Hide Away in real feeling in the lead role, an unnamed man who is in mourning for reasons we slowly start to understand, one related to the wife and kids we see him with in gauzy flashbacks. “Are you divorced?” people ask him. “No, I’m not,” he responds numbly. He’s told by the man from whom he buys a boat at the start of a film that a lot of divorced guys apparently do what he’s doing. He doesn’t know anything about boats — what he’s looking for is an escape, a refuge — which is why he ends up with a sailboat in barely functioning condition, the Hesperus, named for the evening star. Arriving in a black suit like he either fled straight from a business meeting or a funeral, the would-be mariner pokes around the decrepit vessel on which he plans to live, and starts learning his way around. Hide Away , which was written by Peter Vanderwall, was shot and is set in a real place — on Grand Traverse Bay in Michigan — but the film strips away most identifying details, leaving the dock on which the man’s ship is moored to seem like an outpost at the end of the world. The cinematography, by Elliot Davis, makes the place look fancifully lovely, with its still, reflective water and open skies, its winter storms and cloud banks. There’s a town nearby — the man heads in sometimes to buy groceries or booze — but he doesn’t really interact with it, having chosen solitude. A few people come and go around the dock, including a guy (Jon Tenney) who actually is divorced and using his recent boat-ownership to get women, but otherwise the man’s alone. Lucas is saddled with a lot of scenes in which he’s by himself on screen, and for the most part does an admirable job of conveying someone who’s so haunted by grief that he needed to leave the world behind without actually talking about what he went through. His moments of grief — staring out, sleepless, at night; drinking himself into a stupor at Christmas while lit-up boats past by — feel rough and believable, especially in the way he courts death by acting carelessly while never actually wanting to do the deed himself. Lucas turns the man’s repair of the ship into a series of bits of physical comedy — running out of the shower after it breaks, trying to raise the sail, setting off smoke alarms when starting a fire in the stove. He makes the repetition of work into something believably soothing, makes it seem like a process through which you could genuinely start to heal. But all the interactions the man has with the few visitors he encounters and friends he makes are leadenly infused with meaning. There’s the beautiful waitress (Ayelet Zurer) at the restaurant by the dock who seems to have taken up residence there exclusively to offer comfort sex and a more maternal caring to the broken wanders who end up nearby. There’s the older man (James Cromwell) who offers words of wisdom with regard to his own sorrow — it’s “not a recipe I recommend a young man follow.” There’s the former work colleague (Taylor Nichols) who drops by to insist the man come back to his software company, offering to set him up to telecommute. And there’s the pretty check-out girl (Casey LaBow) who inexplicably comes to him for shelter after her boyfriend beats her. The entire world seems there only to patiently nurture the man back to mental health — as if he’s in some kind of extremely elaborate sanatorium in which patients are led to think that this whole recovery-by-way-of-fixing-a-sailboat thing was their idea from the start. Hide Away has more clunky moments than it does elegantly minimalist ones, the worst of which is the glimpse of what actually happened to the man’s family. It’s over-the-top and unnecessary, given that we’d already gotten the idea about why the guy feels such guilt and grief. In shaping a film so deliberately around things left out, it would have been better to give the audience the benefit of the doubt and leave a little more mystery to the nameless man and his pain. Follow Alison Willmore on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
Filmmaker Chris Eyre made his name with his 1998 debut Smoke Signals , a delicate indie adapted from a short story by Sherman Alexie about two young men living on the Coeur D’Alene Indian Reservation who go an a road trip to retrieve the belongings of one’s recently deceased estranged father. It was a small, wistful thing that offered a look at characters and a community that don’t get a lot of time on screen. Hide Away, Eyre’s newest work — since Smoke Signals he’s made four features that have mostly headed to TV — is in the same emotional vein as that first film, but heads away from the rez for a setting that’s more figurative and characters that are more generic (by choice, though it’s also a problem). It’s a slender story of mourning that manages some lovely bits of mood while also being dreary and a little preposterous in its spareness. Josh Lucas does a heroic amount to ground Hide Away in real feeling in the lead role, an unnamed man who is in mourning for reasons we slowly start to understand, one related to the wife and kids we see him with in gauzy flashbacks. “Are you divorced?” people ask him. “No, I’m not,” he responds numbly. He’s told by the man from whom he buys a boat at the start of a film that a lot of divorced guys apparently do what he’s doing. He doesn’t know anything about boats — what he’s looking for is an escape, a refuge — which is why he ends up with a sailboat in barely functioning condition, the Hesperus, named for the evening star. Arriving in a black suit like he either fled straight from a business meeting or a funeral, the would-be mariner pokes around the decrepit vessel on which he plans to live, and starts learning his way around. Hide Away , which was written by Peter Vanderwall, was shot and is set in a real place — on Grand Traverse Bay in Michigan — but the film strips away most identifying details, leaving the dock on which the man’s ship is moored to seem like an outpost at the end of the world. The cinematography, by Elliot Davis, makes the place look fancifully lovely, with its still, reflective water and open skies, its winter storms and cloud banks. There’s a town nearby — the man heads in sometimes to buy groceries or booze — but he doesn’t really interact with it, having chosen solitude. A few people come and go around the dock, including a guy (Jon Tenney) who actually is divorced and using his recent boat-ownership to get women, but otherwise the man’s alone. Lucas is saddled with a lot of scenes in which he’s by himself on screen, and for the most part does an admirable job of conveying someone who’s so haunted by grief that he needed to leave the world behind without actually talking about what he went through. His moments of grief — staring out, sleepless, at night; drinking himself into a stupor at Christmas while lit-up boats past by — feel rough and believable, especially in the way he courts death by acting carelessly while never actually wanting to do the deed himself. Lucas turns the man’s repair of the ship into a series of bits of physical comedy — running out of the shower after it breaks, trying to raise the sail, setting off smoke alarms when starting a fire in the stove. He makes the repetition of work into something believably soothing, makes it seem like a process through which you could genuinely start to heal. But all the interactions the man has with the few visitors he encounters and friends he makes are leadenly infused with meaning. There’s the beautiful waitress (Ayelet Zurer) at the restaurant by the dock who seems to have taken up residence there exclusively to offer comfort sex and a more maternal caring to the broken wanders who end up nearby. There’s the older man (James Cromwell) who offers words of wisdom with regard to his own sorrow — it’s “not a recipe I recommend a young man follow.” There’s the former work colleague (Taylor Nichols) who drops by to insist the man come back to his software company, offering to set him up to telecommute. And there’s the pretty check-out girl (Casey LaBow) who inexplicably comes to him for shelter after her boyfriend beats her. The entire world seems there only to patiently nurture the man back to mental health — as if he’s in some kind of extremely elaborate sanatorium in which patients are led to think that this whole recovery-by-way-of-fixing-a-sailboat thing was their idea from the start. Hide Away has more clunky moments than it does elegantly minimalist ones, the worst of which is the glimpse of what actually happened to the man’s family. It’s over-the-top and unnecessary, given that we’d already gotten the idea about why the guy feels such guilt and grief. In shaping a film so deliberately around things left out, it would have been better to give the audience the benefit of the doubt and leave a little more mystery to the nameless man and his pain. Follow Alison Willmore on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
Steamy teaser debuted Thursday night during Movie Awards Sneak Peek Week. By Jocelyn Vena Channing Tatum in “Magic Mike” Photo: Warner Bros. Channing Tatum , along with co-stars Matt Bomer and Alex Pettyfer, get their groove on to “It’s Raining Men” in a brand-new, exclusive clip from “Magic Mike,” which we premiered Thursday night (May 31) as part of Movie Awards Sneak Peek Week. Tatum not only debuted the teaser, he also sat down with MTV News’ own Josh Horowitz and dished on playing the title character. The Steven Soderbergh-directed flick opens June 29 and goes inside the world of hard-bodied male strippers. In the clip, the guys are decked out in raincoats as they dance with umbrellas. The fellas shake, shimmy and, of course, strip — actually they tear off their clothes — to the iconic disco tune. But the highlight of the scene is probably when Tatum gets his dirty dancing on and humps the stage while the club’s female patrons swoon and scream. But that’s not it for Sneak Peek Week: On Friday night, Julianne Hough and Diego Boneta will join us for a chat about the big-screen adaptation of “Rock of Ages,” which also stars Tom Cruise, Mary J. Blige, Alec Baldwin, Catherine Zeta-Jones and more. Check back in at 11 p.m. ET Friday for our live Q&A with the actors. Fans can get in on the action on Twitter using the hash tag #MTVSneak or by tweeting your favorite movie-related drawings from OMGPOP’s “Draw Something” app to @ MTVNews . And the fun doesn’t end there. The 2012 MTV Movie Awards go down this Sunday, with Russell Brand hosting and feature performances by Fun. , the Black Keys, Martin Solveig and Wiz Khalifa . It all goes down from the Gibson Amphitheatre in Universal City, California at 9 p.m. ET. Head over to MovieAwards.MTV.com to vote for your favorite flicks now! The 21st annual MTV Movie Awards air live this Sunday, June 3, at 9 p.m. ET. Related Videos Movie Awards Sneak Peek Week: ‘Magic Mike’
If you could distill essence de chat into a few well-chosen pen strokes, you’d end up with something like Jean-Loup Felicioli and Alain Gagnol’s superb animated adventure A Cat in Paris , a picture whose modest demeanor only underscores how expressive and imaginative it is. This isn’t the kind of big-budget animation we get from the major studios: It’s richness of another sort, a feat of hand-drawn animation that relies on spare but succinct character design and a dazzling sense of perspective — rather than a volley of cultural in-jokes — to tell its story. The picture sparkles, but in the nighttime way — its charms have a noirish gleam. Most of the picture does, in fact, take place at night, beginning and ending with the nocturnal Parisian perambulations of a wily striped cat named Dino. Dino “belongs” to a little girl named Zoe. He pledges his devotion by bringing her little gifts from his nighttime hunting jaunts. Actually, he keeps bringing her the same gift: One dangly, limp dead lizard after another, but Zoe is delighted by them and saves them all in a little box, much to the annoyance of her new nanny. What almost no one knows is that Dino doesn’t go out at night just for fun, or simply out of a feline sense of duty. He’s also a cat burglar, assisting a sneaky but noble local jewel thief, Nico, on his midnight rounds. The plot becomes more complicated — to the extent that it’s complicated at all — by the fact that Zoe’s mother, Jeanne, is a detective with the Paris police. She’s consumed with concern for Zoe, who hasn’t spoken since her father was killed by a square-shouldered, square-headed thug named Victor Costa. She’s also riven with grief, and she’s determined to avenge her husband’s death by catching Costa, who, it turns out, has a new scheme: He plans to steal a precious, valuable and huge antiquity, the Colossus of Nairobi, a hulking totem that’s being brought to the city for an exhibit. Meanwhile, though, Jeanne has peskier problems: Jewels keep disappearing from various households in the city, thanks to Nico and an accomplice with four silent, velvet paws. A Cat in Paris is being released in the states in two versions, an English-language one (in which Marcia Gay Harden, Anjelica Huston and Matthew Modine provide some of the key voices) and a subtitled French one (which features, in the role of the nanny, the voice of actress Bernadette Lafont, who, for those who keep track of such things, played Marie in The Mother and the Whore ). If you’re bringing children and are lucky enough to have bilingual ones, I recommend the French version, since it is simply more French; to hear the English language pouring forth from these characters’ mouths feels just a little wrong. But the visuals of A Cat in Paris resonate in any language, and it doesn’t hurt that the picture features a stunning, stealthy Bernard Hermann-style orchestral score by Serge Bessett. (The music in A Cat in Paris is finer and more resonant than that of any live-action picture I’ve seen this year.) This is Felicioli and Gagnol’s first full-length feature — it was a 2012 Academy Award nominee — and it clocks in at a very trim but visually rich 70 minutes. The filmmakers’ drawings are both meticulous and highly stylized: They render the rooftops of Paris (what is it about city rooftops in general, and Paris rooftops in particular?) as a dusky, velvety patchwork, an invitation to adventure — they take great delight in the city’s highs and lows, in the contrast between tall and short. Their palette features an array of oranges, from muted citrus tones to deep sienna, and lots of deep, nighttime turquoise. And they dot the picture with small but inventive visual touches: When a character dons night goggles, the figures around him are rendered as stark white lines on a flat black surface. And the gargoyles of Notre Dame feature in the climactic chase sequence, a bit of travelogue whimsy that’s nonetheless dramatically gripping, perhaps even a little dizzying for those who are hinky about heights — it doesn’t matter that you can’t really fall off a cartoon building. And then there’s Dino, an utterly bewitching arrangement of orange and chocolate triangles (with a pink one for a nose). Dino isn’t a cute cartoon cat — there’s an element of mystery and devilishness about him, suggesting that Felicioli and Gagnol understand true feline spirit. They also understand feline loyalty, which is a contradiction in terms only to those who don’t understand (to the extent that understanding is possible) these elusive, magnetic creatures. Dino comforts the distressed Zoe by visiting her in bed, sliding under her arms as if he could pretend she’d never notice. And in a way, she doesn’t notice — somehow, suddenly, Dino is simply there , a presence who changes, only ever so slightly, the nature of the room around him. That’s the quiet province of cats everywhere — not just those who are lucky enough to live in the animated city of Paris. Follow Stephanie Zacharek on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
“Even though the media exhibit enormous sophistication and historical perspective in a thousand different ways — not that I can think of a specific example right now — they are far too often bedazzled by the sheer novelty of a story. If you watch cable news, for example, you know all too well that if there are two child kidnappings in the same month, the first one gets far more attention than the second. This same law applies to box-office bombs. With Battleship , the fascination with Hollywood flop sweat had already worn off. When I asked a veteran showbiz reporter why his publication had spent so little time covering the demise of Battleship , he joked: ‘I guess we all had the same reaction — didn’t we just write that story already?'” [LAT]
“Even though the media exhibit enormous sophistication and historical perspective in a thousand different ways — not that I can think of a specific example right now — they are far too often bedazzled by the sheer novelty of a story. If you watch cable news, for example, you know all too well that if there are two child kidnappings in the same month, the first one gets far more attention than the second. This same law applies to box-office bombs. With Battleship , the fascination with Hollywood flop sweat had already worn off. When I asked a veteran showbiz reporter why his publication had spent so little time covering the demise of Battleship , he joked: ‘I guess we all had the same reaction — didn’t we just write that story already?'” [LAT]
High School has such a winning premise that you want to send everyone involved in making it back to the drawing board for a do-over — just take it from the top, folks, and this time everyone actually have a good time. Directed by John Stalberg, who wrote the film with Erik Linthorst and Stephen Susco, this debut feature follows uptight overachiever Henry Burke (Matt Bush) as, on the eve of finals, he dabbles in pot for the first time with his childhood friend-turned-burnout king Travis Breaux (Sean Marquette) — only to be told the next day that principal Leslie Gordon (an almost unrecognizable Michael Chiklis) is instating a student body-wide zero tolerance drug test. The plan the pair come up with to salvage Travis’s years of hard work and scholarship to MIT? They’re going to get the entire school high to throw off the results. This is, as far as stoner movies go, kind of ingenious, but High School rushes through the parts it should savor and then pads out its runtime with filler elsewhere — and, less forgivably, it doesn’t make getting high look like fun. The stoner comedy as a genre has few requirements other than summoning up a THC haze and being generally good-natured, but High School leaves you feeling like the sober person at a party, wincing at how everyone’s acting and wondering if that’s how you look when under the influence. This may be because that’s how Henry feels all the time — he’s a tightly wound scold who belongs to that wan breed of recent high school protagonists (see It’s Kind of a Funny Story and The Art of Getting By ) who seem on the verge of implosion thanks to some vague, self-imposed psychological distress. The hollow-eyed Henry reunites with Travis, who is leading a seemingly parentless life on a perpetual high, after nearly running into him in the parking lot and instead hitting the principal’s car and earning a detention. “You come to see how the other half lives?” sneers Travis, who’s stuck there too. It rings strange — the division between the pair isn’t due to any class difference but to a lifestyle one, and Travis hasn’t exactly been forced to smoke pot constantly. But the two feel enough nostalgia for their younger days to end up hanging out afterward, where Travis coaxes Henry in smoking his way to an unpleasant first-time high that leaves him paranoid, dazed and with a black eye from falling out of a tree house. Because this is a stoner comedy, the fact that the setup is creaky and doesn’t quite make sense shouldn’t be a problem — except that none of the ways in which the film exaggerates are all that funny. Take Chiklis’s pompous Principal Gordon, with his flop of greasy hair and secret pervert vibe. He’s in the style of an ’80s movie authority figure like Mr. Rooney in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off , one whose sole motivation is ego and spite — except that High School isn’t stylized in the same way. It’s grounded enough to realize that parents would instantly protest the gross invasion of privacy represented by mandatory drug testing, but not enough to explain why an administrator would be eager to expel the graduating class’ likely valedictorian. Its sense of rebellion is completely phony — that of a kid who, like Henry, got high one time and still talks about it. The film’s major asset, one that’s also wasted (in both senses), is Adrien Brody hamming it up as twitchy drug dealer Psycho Ed, a tattooed law school grad (he has “BOOK WORM” across his knuckles) who lost it after smoking a laced joint and has chosen instead to apply his smarts to growing high-octane weed. Sporting cornrows, his bug eyes rolling, Brody should be funny, though Ed’s a better idea than he is in practice — you’re aggressively aware that he’s just an actor showing off the way he’s playing against type rather than a character who’s amusing in his own right. There are other side figures who don’t click: Sebastian (Adhir Kalyan), Henry’s mustache-twirlingly evil rival for the top academic slot; stoner spelling bee champ Charlyne Phuc (Julia Ling), whose last name gets used for a lame joke; well-meaning assistant principal Brandon Ellis (Colin Hanks); a loopy former Deadhead teacher (Yeardley Smith). The movie’s big event — the spiking of bake sale brownies with THC crystals — takes place early on rather than toward the end, so it doesn’t result in the kind of delirious chaotic payoff you’d expect or want from the film. Students and teachers look dazed, lose focus and say some inexplicable things, and by the time the goofiness comes along, it’s too late. It is, horror of horrors, a portrayal of a mildly realistic high, which in the context of what should be an over-the-top film is really the last thing you want. What’s the use of a stoner film if it can’t convince you that there’s at least some fun to be had in the warm embrace of cannabis? Follow Alison Willmore on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
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