Society hooked on celebrities' addictions

I don't understand why our society is obsessed with celebrities who spend most of their time and money destroying themselves.

While perusing the news online this week, I've seen several versions of the recent "Lindsay Lohan checked herself into rehab" story, which include rumors that she received an intervention from movie executives and her mother's statement that she is very proud of her daughter for seeking help. Since all Lohan seems to have said publicly about the issue is that she would like to be given privacy and she's enjoying this season of "American Idol," I don't understand why she's making headlines.

Britney Spears' career was recently helped by her filing for divorce and then flashing her privates. Since when is this more useful to a star's career than actually making an album or film? We've always enjoyed watching celebrity scandal, but now it seems that society prefers self-destruction to juicy rumors.

So-called "reality TV" now includes VH1's "Shooting Sizemore," in which it seems, so far, the viewer is forced to watch Tom Sizemore rant about how his acting was better when he was doing crystal methamphetamine and how he has no confidence in himself sober.

What is so interesting about a celebrity who claims he/she is miserable and addicted to drugs and/or alcohol because of the "burden" of fame and fortune? If fame and wealth are so difficult to deal with, why not just give it up? Maybe get an education and get a real job?

Celebrities have gotten themselves addicted to drugs and alcohol for as many years as celebrity status has existed - why are we still so interested? My suggestion - skip the article about what Lohan wore to rehab and read about politics or (imagine this) a book.

Originally published in The Chronicle in January 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson.

Don't spend much on a ride with "The Hitcher"

While not as innovative or gritty as the 1986 original, Dave Meyers' "The Hitcher" is one of the better horror film remakes in recent years. Written by Jake Wade Wall and Eric Bernt, and based on Eric Red's original screenplay, this version of "The Hitcher" adds a new character - our hero, Jim (Zachary Knighton), has a girlfriend, Grace (Sophia Bush).

The film begins with Jim and Grace driving to their spring break destination - and with Grace changing clothes in the car. Before the "cute college couple" can bore audiences to death, however, they are nearly killed by John Ryder (Sean Bean), a hitchhiker they reluctantly pick up in the rain. Since they are in the middle of nowhere and have lost their cell phones (of course) in the struggle with Ryder, their only option is to keep driving to seek assistance. This leads to a series of misadventures in which they discover Ryder is far from done with them and that small-town authorities are extremely suspicious of young strangers.

Meyers' keeps "The Hitcher" suspenseful. The film lacks depth and good acting, but succeeds at keeping the audience in suspense between sessions of death and torture. Knighton is a poor replacement for 1986's C. Thomas Howell and Bush's performance leaves a lot to be desired though her character's concept does not (she manages to approach, if not achieve, empowerment). Bean's performance pales in comparison to Rutger Hauer's in the original, but is respectable nonetheless.

The standout performance of the film goes to Neal McDonough as Lieutenant Esteridge, a hardworking but understanding police officer. Though the soundtrack is fairly predictable but effective, Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" playing loudly during a chase scene captures the urgency and brutality well, and other songs follow suit - capturing feeling and lacking originality, much like the film.

Rated R for profanity and graphic violence, "The Hitcher" is not for the squeamish. There is plenty of blood and gore, but at least no cheesy CGI special effects. "The Hitcher" is definitely not worth the cost of an evening showing at the movie theatre. However, especially for those who have not seen the original, it might be worth a matinee.

Originally published in The Chronicle in January 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson.

Creative Comics makes it personal

Many local card and comic shops in the area offer quality merchandise, but none offer the personal attention customers receive at Creative Comics in Griffith.

Owner James R. Rhone sells comic books, graphic novels, role-playing books, dice, card games and materials for preserving cards and comics. Creative Comics also carries figurines, tee-shirts and other related merchandise.

Rhone opened Creative Comics in May 2003. He taught comic book art for 10 years prior to opening the shop and used the Griffith store as a place to give lessons in addition to selling merchandise. Now taught by Rhone's friend, comic art lessons for all ages are on Tuesday nights from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. Rhone said owning a comic shop was something he always wanted to do.

"It's more of a hobby than a money-maker. I still keep my full-time job. I like coming here - it's not like a job," Rhone said.

For those who buy comics regularly, the shop offers a subscription service. Those who subscribe to between 1-29 comic books receive 10 percent off each new book and 20 percent off back issues. Anyone who subscribes to 30 or more comic books will receive 13 percent off new issues and 25 percent off back issues.

The shop has a slightly out-of-the-way Griffith location with hard access during peak traffic times, but is worth the effort to reach because it provides a comfortable environment for all interested in comics and gaming.

Crystal Kolasa, a freshman majoring in hospitality/tourism management, enjoys browsing at Creative Comics because of the pleasant environment. Kolasa added that she has - as most women who enjoy comics and/or gaming have - looked for comic shops where female customers are treated the same as male customers, not leered at or ignored.

With no employees, Rhone relies on help from friends who can help out with the shop occasionally so he can spend some time with his family. Rhone gets to know his customers individually.

"I like to make it more personal," Rhone said. "You get to hear everyone's story; you get to know people. "I've made a lot of friends through the shop."

Brian J. Lynch, a Hammond resident, visits Creative Comics weekly and subscribes to approximately 20 comic books a month.

"It's not the largest shop I've ever been in, and sometimes I have to dig through boxes to find what I'm looking for, but there's always a hidden gem to be found," Lynch said. "I've been reading comics since I was 8 years old, so I've been in quite a few shops - and I have to say, Jim's is hands-down the friendliest and most comfortable,"

Between people perusing the large selection of comics and the crowded tables of gamers, the small shop is often abuzz.

Creative Comics is host to weekly games of HeroClicks, Pirates, Magic: The Gathering, Yu-gi-oh, and the Legend of the Five Rings. The games are open to everyone and generally have players ranging in age from 9 years old to 45 years old, according to Rhone.

Those interested in learning about game tournaments, tournament prizes, special events, and the upcoming week's comic book release list should visit Creative Comics at 216 E. Main St. in Griffith or call 924-1600.

Originally published in The Chronicle in February 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson.

This week's movie review -- 'Black Snake Moan'

"Black Snake Moan" slithers into your head and the characters curl around your heart in a film that combines fantastic acting and a powerful story of caring. Writer and director Craig Brewer delivers the tale of Rae (Christina Ricci), a neurotic nymphomaniac and Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson), a retired bluesman turned farmer who is unlucky enough to feel inclined to tame her.

After Rae's boyfriend (played by Justin Timberlake, whose terrible acting doesn't ruin the film because he's in very little of it) gets shipped off to military training, she just can't help but begin having sex with other men. After a night of wild partying that ends badly, Rae is dumped half-naked by the side of the road - bruised, beaten and ill. Lazarus finds her and decides what she needs is some old-fashioned patience, rest and understanding.

Believing divine intervention led her to his path, Lazarus is determined to save Rae from herself - even once that means chaining her to the radiator to keep her from running off to get her much-needed fix. Lazarus confronts his own demons, as he was just left by his wife. He also tries to teach Rae how to respect herself. The chemistry between Jackson and Ricci is amazing. It's clear Lazarus wants to save Rae from her lust-driven ways just as much as she doesn't believe she'll ever be able to harness her urges. Ricci is sexy, dirty and primal in this film - and yet her character remains sympathetic.

The movie also focuses on racial issues. Lazarus is concerned about reporting the situation because of racial implications. "I've been toe to toe with the law just for being black and nearby," he says - capturing the look and sound of the Deep South. Lazarus becomes inclined to dig out his old guitar in an attempt to soothe the beast within Rae. Jackson belts out soulful blues like he's been doing it all his life. The song "Black Snake Moan," set against a nighttime thunderstorm, is nothing less than chilling.

With the exception of Timberlake's character, all of the characters seem very real and are easy to feel for. S. Epatha Merkerson plays a kind-hearted pharmacist with an eye on Lazarus and John Cothran Jr. is terrific as the Reverend. "Black Snake Moan" is filled with profanity and overt (sometimes violent) sex scenes. This is not a movie for children and young teens - who probably wouldn't really get it anyway, so they aren't missing anything - but carries more positive message than offensiveness for mature viewers.

Originally published in The Chronicle in March 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson

Overpricd books for sale, but no newspapers

Aside from grabbing a copy of The Chronicle on my way in to CLO at the beginning of each week, I get most of my news online - either from a news site or an online newspaper. There are, however, occasions when I actually want a print newspaper so that I can keep a copy of an article, picture or announcement.

The Calumet Campus Shop used to carry newspapers. I remember buying occasional copies of The Times there a few years ago, especially in the days when I did not have reliable transportation to leave campus if I needed to make a purchase. Admittedly, it's been a few years since I went looking for a newspaper on campus but I was recently horrified to learn the bookstore no longer sells newspapers. I thought perhaps Outtakes (the new convenience store) was selling them instead - after all, the bookstore no longer carries candy, either. But, no, a woman working at Outtakes told me they do not sell newspapers and recommended I check the bookstore.

I'm concerned. I have a car and can simply leave campus if I need to buy a newspaper. But what about students for whom mid-day transportation is not so readily available - those who carpool, are dropped off at school by a friend or relative or who live in the University Village and do not have a car. Sure, the library has newspapers, but, again, that provides an opportunity for a copy and not a clip from a real newspaper.

And, need aside, what about want? What about students (or faculty) who would simply like to be able to purchase an occasional newspaper to read over lunch or outside between classes when the weather is pleasant? Even in our fast-paced, technologically-driven society, some things should not change. Please, bring back our (print) newspapers.

Originally published in The Chronicle in March 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson

'23' adds up to failure

"The Number 23" has the premise of a great film - too bad it suffers and dies from bad acting.

Screenwriter Fernley Phillips crafts a masterful tale of intrigue and suspense. Jim Carrey plays Walter Sparrow, a mild-mannered dogcatcher. His luck changes for the worse after being bit by a dog on his birthday, which makes him late for his evening plans. On that night, his wife, Agatha (Virginia Madsen), buys him a book called "The Number 23." As Walter reads - and fixates on - the book, we watch through his eyes as the narrator, Fingerling (in a duel role by Carrey), enjoys the company of a kinky woman named Fabrizia (in a duel role by Madsen) and learns of the curse associated with the number 23 from a sexy young woman referred to as the Suicide Blond (Lynn Collins).

Cinematographer Matthew Libatique's work is extraordinary. The tale within the tale unfolds in a noir-soaked sequence showcasing Libatique's genius, along with that of director Joel Schumacher. Schumacher is outstanding in blending reality and imagination in what could have been the best suspense thriller of the year, had Carrey been capable of portraying a frightening character. He pulled off a serious role in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," but serious and subdued may be far enough away from his usual for him to succeed by maintaining total opposition to his usual actor-self. In "The Number 23," his exaggerated facial expressions, meant to convey mental distress, cross the border into comical too many times. Madsen has the opposite problem - she has so little affect that it's hard to believe his kind, caring wife is disturbed at all by Walter's obsession.

There may be a real fixation with 23 among conspiracy theorists, but I was so disappointed in the acting that I left the film sans inspiration to brood over the math connecting the Oklahoma City bombing, Hiroshima and the September 11, 2001 attacks to the number's supposed curse I enjoyed the surprising ending but it wasn't worth watching 95 minutes of poor acting. "The Number 23" certainly isn't worthy of seeing in the theatre, but might be worth a two or three dollar rental for the cinematography alone.

Originally published in The Chronicle in March 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson

Small venues make for better concerts

I went to see the Pogues perform at the Congress Theatre on March 6. They were fantastic - it's great to see lead singer Shane MacGowan back with the band. The Pogues have a fantastic stage presence and seem to enjoy performing - they performed three encores.

But I think one of the best parts of the event was the location. The Congress Theatre is fairly small and is comprised mostly of a general admission area great for pushing your way toward the stage. With our general admission tickets, we were able to get close enough to the front to read MacGowan's champagne bottle.

Rather than having to either park miles away and then hike to the venue or pay a small fortune to use a parking garage or valet service, we enjoyed the ample street parking (well, as close to ample parking as Chicago ever has) close to the Congress.

I know Chicago is in the process of implementing a fascist anti-smoking policy but this area of the city seemed yet untouched by the breach of civil rights. It was such a relief to enjoy a cigarette in the lobby of the theatre after purchasing a drink from one of the many well-stocked bar stands throughout the establishment.

After not being able to find the merchandise table at the last concert I attended, I was very relieved that the Pogues merchandise was easy to find (and even more pleased that it was plentiful, with a good variety at decent prices).

Had I seen the Pogues at a larger venue, I don't think I would have enjoyed the experience as much. After this show, I'm done with fancy concert halls and I can't imagine going to an arena concert.

Good things may come in small packages and the best concert experiences certainly take place in small venues.

Originally published in The Chronicle in March 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson

This week's DVD review -- Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave

And the worst DVD release of 2007 is director Ellory Elkayem's "Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave." It may only be April, but it's not too early to say nothing could beat this terrible trifecta of cheesy dialogue, over-the-top stupidity and bad acting to ruin anyone's appetite for film like the fifth installment in the "Return of the Living Dead" series.

The original "Return of the Living Dead" (1985) was deliciously sarcastic, dripping with gore, and crammed full of new, brain-chewing talking zombies. Even "Return of the Living Dead III" (1993) brought us further innovation - a "Romeo and Juliet" style romance between a young man and his recently deceased (and reanimated) girlfriend.

But apparently the series has run out of steam - though, apparently, not zombie-producing Trioxin.

"Return of the Living Dead: Necropolis" (part 4) premiered on the Sci-Fi channel at the same time as "Rave to the Grave" in 2005, and was released to DVD a year earlier. I thought since the films were made so close together, the one failing they would not suffer is continuity - but I was wrong.

"Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave" opens to find Becky (Aimee-Lynn Chadwick), Julian (John Keefe) and Cody (Cory Hardrict) away at college, seemingly oblivious to their near-death (and undeath) experiences the previous year in "Necropolis."

Instead, the only mention of any previous problems are unspecific mentions of government connections to Julian's uncle's recent murder and the mysterious canisters - of (what else could it be but) Trioxin - in his family's attic.

Julian drags the canister into a campus science lab for Cody to analyze in the middle of the night. Instead, Cody uses it to produce "Z" - a party drug that produces hallucinations so powerful that "you just stand there, like a zombie" - for an upcoming Halloween rave.

DJ Jeremy (Cain Manoli) and drug-dealer Skeet (Catalin Paraschiv) begin selling the green capsules around campus, assuring that what Jeremy touts as the "rave to the grave" certainly will be (or, more aptly, the "rave ending in a brain-chewing frenzy").

Whether it was a failed joke or the result of someone letting an elementary school student help with the plot, the worst moment of "Rave to the Grave" was a decayed, Trioxin-dripping zombie attempting to hitchhike in broad daylight and no one noticing (or, at least, reacting) to its presence.

I can think of few fates worse than becoming a brain-craving zombie - having to watch "Rave to the Grave" is one of them.

Originally published in The Chronicle in April 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson

Bye bye to the Buffy I knew

Many of us who obsessively watched "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" mourned the loss of this show after season seven, realizing "Buffy" was truly gone from television forever - less, of course, cold comfort from reruns. We watched (in the last episode) as a school bus drove characters - some familiar and dear, others newer and less connected - away from the large hole where Sunnydale was, and they took with them a little piece of our hearts.

I cried. I mourned the loss of a show I'd watched since high school, feeling a connection with Buffy (the character), who was then my age. I wondered briefly if we'd see a return for season eight - maybe even on a new channel - but realized that I'd never again tune in to see a new episode. I'm sure I'm not the only one who was saddened by this fact.

When I recently learned that Joss Whedon would be bringing us season eight after all - in comic book form - I was excited. I was ready to find out what Buffy, Willow, and Xander were up to. And, of course, I wondered what life after Sunnydale was like for Dawn as she worked through her complicated adolescence. I wanted to know more about the reference near the end of the series "Angel" in which we hear that Buffy is dating The Immortal. I was even curious as to how all those new Slayers were balancing their previous lives with their new Slayer duties.

I made a special trip to Creative Comics in Griffith to pick up the first issue of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," season 8. When I got home, I devoured the issue with high hopes.

When I put the issue down, it was with disappointment. The "Buffy" world, once so small and intimate now feels too vast. The first issue alone dealt with space travel, cloning, and the army. This larger world feels filled more with "clever science" than emotion.

I'll keep reading and hoping the first issue was meant as a catch-up issue - that the intimacy will return and the feeling from the show will come through the pages of upcoming issues.

Originally published in The Chronicle in April 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson

"The Lookout" demands notice, despite flaws

"The Lookout" succeeds on the surface - it's a thriller actually delivering clever character-driven interaction. Unfortunately, the devil's in the details - and that's where this film leaves something to be desired.

"I wake up. I take a shower … with soap. I look outside to see what to wear." This is what Chris Pratt's (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) life has been reduced to four years after a prom night car wreck ruined his hockey-playing ability and, more importantly, his promising future.

In his post-head-injury life, he shares an apartment with seasoned and savvy Lewis (the delightfully adept Jeff Daniels), a sarcastic blind man who tries to protect Chris from a world he has more than a little trouble grasping. Chris can't remember to turn off a light without reading a note that reminds him to, functions by following a strict regimen of repetition, and offends most strangers by blurting out every thought in his head.

However, Chris has found successful - if unrewarding - employment as a night janitor in a small bank. After long nights at his lonely, thankless job, Chris stops in for a (non-alcoholic) drink at a local bar - which is where, one unfortunate night, he's sought out by shady former classmate Gary (Matthew Goode, dripping with sleaziness), who sees a chance to cash in Chris' mental disability.

Gary lures Chris into his criminal crowd with the promise of friendships, fun, and the sexual attention of Luvlee Lemons (Isla Fisher) - a stripper-turned-secretary. But it doesn't take long for Gary to reveal his plan - he intends to rob the bank Chris works at, and he expects Chris to help.

Writer-director Scott Frank keeps us far enough from "Memento" to feel the newness of this film - and Gordon-Levitt, who has grown up a lot since his days on "3rd Rock From the Sun," manages to show us a boiling pot of teenage rebellion mixed with innocence and never err on the side of predictable.

But I have to ask - if Chris can't tell his garlic press from a can opener, how is he capable of driving a car? If Chris can barely remember to lock his apartment door, how can he be trusted to work nights alone at a bank? And if Chris knows alcohol is bad for his broken brain (and because of this, never imbibes), why does he allow Gary to ply him with liquor at a house party?

Rated R for language, some violence, and sexual content "The Lookout" achieves intensity that almost makes it a magnificent film. If you can keep from analyzing the film too much and just enjoy the ride, "The Lookout" provides suspense, drama, and several excellent performances.

Originally published in The Chronicle in April 2007 as Jade Lee Culberson