This picture of Chris Penn in all his hairy-chested glory is more flattering than the one on his IMDB page that has already been used on one of the first sites to report his death. I first saw it reported on MTV News in a brief rundown of minor stories earlier tonight, and it wasn’t until an hour or so later than Google News turned up something. No word yet on cause of death, but dude was only 43.

Top 10 Reasons Chris Penn was awesome:

1. He handled being the 3rd most famous Penn brother with grace and humility. Or maybe he was a bitter, egotistical ass, I don’t really know.

2. He was in Rush Hour, but I tend to think of him more for his appearance as a bartender in the video from the movie’s soundtrack for Jay-Z’s “Can I Get A…”.

3. His other notable music video role was in Sublime’s “Date Rape” video, as the titular date rapist.

4. Cribbed from his IMDB page: “Is in three different movies with close-range shootout scenes at the end (Reservoir Dogs (1992), True Romance (1993), and Corky Romano (2001)).”

5. He filmed a scene in True Romance right after Michael Madsen’s rottweiler ripped his throat out.

6. Also cribbed from IMDB: “Originally had role in American Pie 2 (2001) as Stiffler’s dad but the scenes were cut since they were not deemed to fit in with the original movie.” Stifler’s dad! Can you imagine that? Mabye if they hadn’t cut him, he’d have gotten a spot in the straight-to-DVD American Pie Presents Band Camp with that kid who played Stifler’s brother.

OK, six reasons is enough. One love, CP.

Mel Brooks’ 1968 directorial debut The Producers won him an Oscar for his original screenplay, and earned Gene Wilder his first Oscar nomination, but for years remained relatively little known compared to Brooks’ later genre parodies like Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, and Spaceballs. But it was always a favorite in my family, and over the past few years I was pleased to see The Producers take on a second life as a hugely successful stage musical starring Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick, which meant that finally “Springtime For Hitler” really was a Broadway smash. And since the waiting lists and ticket prices for the Broadway run meant I’d probably never get a chance to see it live, I was glad they decided to make a movie version of the musical so I could see for myself what they did with it.

Although I still highly reccomend the 1968 version to any fan of the musical, it’s very clear from the jump that 2005’s The Producers is a very different beast, and much more was changed in the translation to Broadway than the addition of a few more songs. But since Mel Brooks was still intimately involved in the writing of the stage book and the new screenplay, the new scenes and new jokes retain the inimitable Brooks voice of the original. And at 134 minutes, compared to the original’s 88 minutes, a whole slew of new scenes and subplots are present. The role of Ulla, which was relatively small and received 7th billing in the original, is beefed up to 3rd billing for Uma Thurman’s perfect performance in the new version (Uma…Ulla…Uma…Ulla…I wonder if Letterman is excited to make note of this role). And one of my favorite characters in the original, Lorenzo St. DuBois (aka L.S.D.) is gone entirely to make more room for Will Ferrell’s Franz Liebkind.

At over 2 hours, The Producers definitely felt a bit overlong for a comedy, especially compared to the original’s brisk pacing. Movie audiences might’ve benefitted from the same intermission that Broadway audiences got. But it seems as if director Susan Stroman, who also directed the play, was hesitant to cut any of the handful of songs and scenes that could’ve been lost. And I sometimes found myself wishing the movie didn’t feel so much like a stage production minus the audience. That said, the movie had constant laughs and great performances. I’m a huge fan of Gene Wilder in the original and count it among his top 3 performances ever, and Matthew Broderick was definitely paying homage with his take on the role, although sometimes he lapsed into mere impersonation. And though Nathan Lane diverged more from Zero Mostel’s perfect performance in the original, he makes the role his own, particularly in the song and dance sequences.

On first viewing, I had to get over a little of the shock of just how much the filmmakers changed from the original, but now that I know that, I look forward to enjoying the 2005 version for what it is in future viewings. And every time I started to feel as if the original spirit of the original had been tossed out the window, they preserved some small detail that I loved, like the fact that Mel Brooks once again dubbed his voice for the storm trooper who says “Don’t be shtupid, be a shmarty, come and join the Nazy party!”

There’s a point about a half hour into Walk The Line where Joaquin Phoenix’s portrayal of Johnny Cash crosses over and becomes fully convincing. And for me, it was the exact moment between him stepping up to the microphone and saying “hello, I’m Johnny Cash”, which didn’t quite ring true to my ears, and him beginning to sing “Get Rhythm” in a near perfect Cash tone. And through the whole movie, my suspension of belief came and went, and for every shot where he struck the right pose and his voice had the right pitch, there were two where I just saw Joaquin Phoenix playing a role not unlike several he’s played before. But that third of the time that he hits the mark really is something.

These days, we get glossy but lovingly detailed biopics about pop culture icons of the 20th century at least once or twice a year, and even if they’re all amazing stories about incredible people, they’re not all well told. Walk The Line just about does the job, but is carried far more by the acting than the storytelling. The direction of James Mangold, whose resume includes the middling mystery Identity and fucking Kate & Leopold, tells us about Cash’s unique and eventful life in a fairly dull way, but it lets Phoenix’s occasionally brilliant depiction of Cash lead the way and keep it interesting.

Phoenix’s world class Cash is occasionally cheapened by the number of scenes featuring lesser impressions of other musical legends, like Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison. Jerry Lee Lewis aside, none of Cash’s tourmates were depicted convincingly or had any memorable scenes. And having them in every other scene for a large chunk of the movie dragged it down and made it feel a little like those horrible made for TV movies about Jimi Hendrix or The Temptations that they rerun on VH1 all the time. Even the stunt casted Shooter Jennings barely resembled Waylon Jennings.

I’m alright with the fact that they had to Hollywood up the plot a little bit for the movie to work, but I was pretty annoyed with how they reduced Cash’s life story to a love story. June Carter was, of course, a huge part of Johnny Cash’s live, but I’m sure he did and said things that weren’t 100% motivated by their relationship, though you wouldn’t know it from watching Walk The Line. Reese Witherspoon had nearly as much screen time as Joaquin Phoenix. And as soon as she agreed to marry him and their conflicts were resolved, the damn movie was over. I do respect that choice, though, because I’m glad they didn’t bother to do a heavy make-up job on Phoenix for him to portray Cash in his later years, collecting awards and recording alt-rock cover albums with Rick Rubin.

Anytime an actor portrays a singer, the question arises: let them sing or dub the original voice? Ray played it safe and let Jamie Foxx lip sync to the voice of the real Ray Charles, but in retrospect, especially after his uncanny Ray impression on Kanye West’s “Gold Digger”, I wish they’d let him give it a try. And I’m glad Walk The Line let Phoenix give it a try. It’s clear he doesn’t possess Cash’s deep range naturally, but he does an admirable job anyway, and I’m sure it would’ve taken me out of the movie a lot more for the voice and the face not to match up than for the voice not to match up with my memory of the real Cash. And I stayed with the movie just enough to feel like I really got a feel for his life that I wouldn’t have gotten from just watching the A&E Biography.

Back in June, I wrote an article for the Baltimore City Paper about the first five chapters of R. Kelly’s “Trapped In The Closet,” shortly after the 5th chapter had been leaked on the eve of the release of the otherwise underwhelming TP3: Reloaded album, which also included a DVD of the video for all five chapters. At the time, there had been no official word about any future chapters, and I was pretty unsatisfied with the apparent final chapter’s conclusion. But of course, the week the article ran, the news was announced that the R. was working on a whole bunch of new chapters, and while I had a little egg on my face, I was mainly excited about the continuation of the whole pulpy saga.

Earlier this month, a DVD of the first 12 chapters of “Trapped In The Closet” was released in stores, including 7 new chapters, a behind the scenes featurette, and a bizarre commentary track by a cigar-chomping R. In recent years, much of the praise for R. Kelly’s music has been either ironic or squeamishly tentative, hanging on the question of whether, by enjoying his over-the-top music and public persona, we are laughing at or with him. If nothing else, this DVD should firmly establish the answer to that question as the latter. Throughout the behind the scenes footage, he’s grinning and laughing at the bizarre plot twists of his own creation, and even singing upbeat party versions of “Trapped In The Closet” to himself.

And then, there’s the new chapters 6-12, which (SPOILERS AHEAD) feature: a midget, a spatula, and a white woman voiced with a ridiculous trailer trash accent by R. himself. The genuine tension and drama of the early chapters was what drew me in to begin with, and I was initially a little turned off as the cliffhangers became sillier and more contrived. But by the later chapters, the dude is clearly just having a lot of fun with it, and I’m along for the ride. The seemingly arbitrary coincidences that are revealed at the end of Chapter 5 deepen and begin to add up to their own circular logic. As he continues to add characters to the story, he keeps coming back to the other ones and tying them together in ways you’d never anticipate. When he returns to Rufus, Chuck and Cathy in Chapter 12, it’s a jarring but perfect capper to the insanity that takes place among the other characters. It’s also, strangely, completely different from the chapter that R. performed at this year’s MTV VMA’s, which concluded with Rufus dumping Chuck and going back to his wife, although it remains to be seen whether that chapter does occur somewhere after 12. But I’ll keep looking forward to every new installment that he sends our way.

Barry Levinson‘s career has been pretty spotty for a director of his stature, but he never seems to falter when he sticks to painting on the pallette he knows best: Baltimore in the 50’s and early 60’s, the city he grew up in during the era of his youth. From his debut, 1982’s Diner, to 1999’s Liberty Heights, it’s a subject he keeps returning to. Where those flicks carried sentimental, autobiographical touches and centered on young guys, roughly the same age Levinson was at the time, Tin Men is about two middle-aged aluminum siding salesmen, played by Richard Dreyfuss and Danny DeVito, who never knew each other professionally until a fender bender set off a venemous personal feud.

DeVito doesn’t play against type, as essentially a more sympathetic variation on Louie DePalma, but Dreyfuss manages to cut a dashing figure in contrast to his usual anxious, nasal screen presence as the younger, single tin man. Eventually, their comic back-and-forth of revenge and oneupsmanship escalates to the point that he steals DeVito’s wife and the story takes a slightly more serious, emotional turn, although the transition feels natural and not jarring or an unwelcome downer. As the battle of wills becomes a love triangle, the laughs come more from the supporting cast, including John Mahoney. In a way, movies like this (and Barton Fink and Say Anything) are a cruel reminder of the streak of great supporting roles Mahoney had before sinking a decade into one monotonous role on “Frasier” brought him to greater fame but effectively stalled his big screen career.

As a Baltimore resident, I’ll always watch these movies partly just for the scenery and how it’s used. And the thing about Baltimore that Levinson’s period films always underline for me is that in a lot of neighborhoods on the North side, all you have to do to convincingly set the clock back 20-50 years is park a bunch of classic cars on the street. Nothing else has really changed on a lot of those blocks lined with rowhouses. Really, the only thing that takes me a little out of the story and jolts me back to 1987 is the presence of the Fine Young Cannibals in multiple club scenes. “Good Thing” was a jam, though.