Kris Humphries may be dragging out his divorce from Kim Kardashian , but the Brooklyn Nets are reportedly on the verge of splitting from the rebounding power forward. ESPN’s Chris Broussard reports that the Nets are on the verge of dealing Humphries to the Charlotte Bobcats, receiving shooting guard Ben Gordan in return as the principal player in the deal. Kris lost his starting job many weeks ago in Brooklyn. He’s only averaging 6 points and 6.4 rebounds per game. With the Nets, at least, Humphries was part of a winning organization. But the Bobcats are 11-37 and own the worst record in the league – by a wide margin. Kris Humphries playing for the biggest losers in professional basketball? Some might say this is appropriate.
So THIS is what you do in your spare time Mr. Principal?? Via NYDailyNews Students at Junior High School 80 in the Bronx call him Principal Polanco, but the bikini-clad babes in his Internet rap videos call him “El Siki.” Emmanuel Polanco, 30, is one of the youngest school leaders in the city, but angry parents say his on-screen antics show he’s a terrible role model. “Someone has to hold this guy accountable,” said Cecilia Donovan, whose daughter Ciara, 12, is a seventh-grader at the school. “It’s ridiculous what he’s doing there.” Videos obtained by the Daily News show the principal cavorting with young hotties and partying at posh clubs with bottles of champagne as “El Siki.” In a Spanish-language music video for a song called “El Metele,” Polanco visits a club where he orders up champagne, gyrates on the dance floor and takes a busty blond babe home to bed. So this ninja is a Principal AND the latin Uncle Luke??? “Come here, press against me. I’m giving up control, you go crazy,” he raps in Spanish. “Don’t stop, more, let’s make love.” Though it’s not clear when Polanco made the videos, parents said many students at JHS 80 have seen “El Metele” and kids sometimes chant “El Siki” when Polanco walks down the halls. Polanco, who earns $127,115 and has worked in the public schools since 2003, did not respond to requests for comment. He discussed his musical ambitions in an undated video on the website CalienteHitzMix.com. “We doin’ it up and we doin’ it hard and we gonna take over,” Polanco says in the interview. “I’m here to step it up a notch.” Oh, is that what you’re here to do? Not inspire and lead the kids, right? SMMFH Image via YouTube
Celebrities Who Shouldn’t Speak In Classrooms The Internet story of the week is easily the picture of Gucci Mane hopping off the short bus long enough to speak to a classroom full of children. We’re not sure who the hell the principal or teacher was who made that decision, but they may want to send out a few resumes. But things could be worse. Here are some of the worst choices for people to come to speak to kids.
The astonishing Connecticut school shooting Friday claimed the lives of 26 people in Newtown, Conn., will be tragically remembered for the 20 small children slain. Six adults were also killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School, however, notably Dawn Hochsprung, the principal and a committed educator beloved by students. The principal died trying to protect the students she cared for every day. The gunman, identified as 20-year-old Adam Lanza , started his rampage in the school’s main office, where Hochsprung had reportedly come out of a meeting. Hochsprung was killed in the shooting, the horrific sound of which was reportedly broadcast over the school’s PA system around 9:40 a.m. Friday morning. “She was really nice and fun, but was also very much a tough lady in the right sense,” Tom Prunty, a friend whose niece goes to Sandy Hook and was uninjured, told CNN. “She was the kind of person you’d want to be educating your kids. And the kids loved her.” In all, the death toll has reached 28 total: 20 children, six adults – including Dawn Hochsprung – Adam Lanza and his mother, Nancy, who he shot at another location. Our hearts go out to all those impacted by the Connecticut school shooting .
Anti-gay? Teenage Boys Forced To Hold Hands In Public As Punishment For Fighting At School An Arizona principal is facing backlash from the community after two teenage boys were given the option to sit in chairs in public holding hands as “punishment” for a school fight. Many felt that the disciplinary action was anti-gay. via THG Earlier this week, the two students at Westwood High School in Mesa, Ariz., who have not been named, were faced with two options after getting into a fight: -Suspension from school -Sitting in chairs in the courtyard and holding hands for 15 minutes during lunch They opted for the latter, and were ridiculed by their peers. “Kids were laughing at them and calling them names, asking, ‘Are you gay?’” student Brittney Smyers told ABC affiliate KNXV, while photos began to circulate online. On one Facebook posting, users commented that the public punishment was not appropriate, as it positions the teens as targets for taunting and name-calling. Others said the punishment was anti-gay, as it implies two males holding hands is embarrassing. Helen Hollands, director of communication and marketing for Mesa Public Schools, said the school’s principal, Tim Richard, who is in his first year at Westwood, had the idea. “He’s done some great things there,” Hollands said. “He’s focused highly on maintaining a standard where [ideally] no students are failing a class.” While this punishment probably did what it was intended to do, we think that there were surely other, more effective and socially conscious consequences for fighting during school that the principal could have used. Do you think the punishment was appropriate?
Get yo kids , get yo kids!!! A Queens gym teacher is suing the school where he says a first grader caused him mental anguish and ongoing physical pain in an April attack. According to NYPost reports : A hulking Queens gym teacher and former college football player claims a pupil fractured his ankle, injured his knee and forced him to go to a shrink for stress — even though the kid was only 50 pounds and in first grade. Burly, 220-pound PS 330 teacher John Webster, 27, said a 4-foot-2 Rodrigo Carpio, 6, also kicked and pinched the Elmhurst school’s principal, a security officer and another teacher during a rampage in April. “It’s sort of like an angel-devil sort of thing,” said the 5-foot-10 Webster, who recently filed a notice of his intent to sue the city and says he must now wear braces on his right ankle and knee. “[Rodrigo] looks like an angel, but then, all of a sudden, that halo turns into horns. It’s been a nightmare. It’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating.” But Rodrigo’s dad, Jorge Carpio, 44, scoffed: “The lawsuit is totally absurd. How could my little boy do so much damage? My poor son.” The boy’s mom added, “This is a terrible thing to say [about] a child.” “To every mother, their child is an angel,” said Josefa Marcia da Silva, 33, of her son, now 4-foot-3 and 64 pounds. “I know that he has problems, but he doesn’t deserve to be called such names.” But Webster’s claims are backed up by an April 26 school “occurrence report” filed by the principal that says Rodrigo “was physically aggressive” and karate-kicked Webster in the knee and ankle that day. Webster was accompanying Rodrigo and other students to the cafeteria for lunch when the boy started horseplaying, the teacher told The Post. Webster said that he chided Rodrigo, but that the kid started kicking him. “I tried to hold his wrists, and he began biting me,’’ Webster said. “I took him to the principal’s office, and he kicked me in the ankle, and one kick landed right on my knee. I felt a pop.’’ Rodrigo then kicked and pinched the acting principal and school safety officer, the occurrence report states. NYPD responded but took no action. The boy’s parents refused to allow him to be taken to a hospital for observation. Webster, who played tailback for upstate Morrisville State College, said his doctor told him he had to stay away from work for several months because of his physical and emotional state. But a Department of Education doctor told him to go back last month, so “I’m in limbo,’’ Webster said. Meanwhile, Rodrigo is back at the school. Webster’s lawyer, Andrew Siben of Bay Shore, LI, said school officials were repeatedly warned about Rodrigo but did not protect his client. “This kid is clearly a tiny terror,” he said. “It’s sad that teachers like Mr. Webster are not offered protection from someone who can endanger other teachers and students.” Rodrigo’s mom said her son is now on medication so he can focus. “He is getting help, and he is much better now,” she said. We know we shouldn’t laugh, but we couldn’t help cracking up and lil Rodrigo’s mama talking about: “I know that he has problems…” For real tho, this guy really needs to man up. He’s way too big to be crying for months over being kicked by a 6-year-old.
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 .
It’s not quite Willy Wonka’s suit , and it should probably belong to the young actor who wore it onscreen, but it’s a good cause, so hey: “Focus Features is donating an original costume from its acclaimed new movie Moonrise Kingdom , directed by Wes Anderson, to Variety the Children’s Charity of New York for Variety New York’s online auction.” Read on for more from Focus’s announcement and the auction site CharityBuzz. First came the specifics from the studio [via press release]: The costume is the Khaki Scouts of North America uniform worn by 12-year-old Sam Shakusky (played by Jared Gilman) in Moonrise Kingdom . After consulting with the director, costume designer Kasia Walicka Maimone and her department created every single element of the uniform, including activity buttons and hand-sewn insignia patches. The gift from Mr. Anderson and the worldwide film company will help Variety New York raise funds to support its work in the tri-state area transforming the lives of children through the arts. And here’s exactly what you’d be bidding on, via CharityBuzz : This includes the Green Scout Shorts with Yellow Piping; Green Scout Shirt w/ Patches, Button, and Yellow Piping, and a Yellow Neckerchief. Terms : In condition as donated. Bidding commenced today and will continue through noon ET on June 13; the current high bidder has opted in at $125. A steal! For now. Good luck! [ CharityBuzz ]
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 .
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 .
