— Chris Azzopardi

Magic Mike. It’s the season of giving, and director Steven Soderbergh is very generous with the amount of men he unwraps in his male stripper movie. As if that wasn’t enough, he includes an actual story. It’s not as beefy as Channing Tatum’s butt, but it’s there: Based on the actor’s real-life go as a peeler, Magic Mike merges art-house indie with MTV video stripteases to tell the story of a veteran dancer — and other “cock-block kings of Tampa” — who learns there’s more to life than stuffing dollar bills in a G-string.

It’s part cautionary tale, part reason for getting hot actors to take their clothes off in a legit film (hello, it’s Soderbergh). Matthew McConaughey steals his scenes as the club’s resident dirtbag, and Matt Bomer does a Ken doll routine that gives new life to those Mattel toys. More of him — the perfect little butt not seen in theaters — shows up in the special features, which are truly, truly special.

Beaches. There’s nothing like sobbing )with a cup of tea, in the fetal position, in bed — don’t pretend you haven’t) to Beaches. Two friends — Hillary Whitney, an ACLU attorney, and “C.C.” Bloom, a Broadway star — share 30 years of love, laughs, men and tacky clothes. On two very different paths, their lives converge when, decades after meeting as kids, Hillary drops the cancer bomb on C.C.

We all know what happens after that, even 25 years after the film’s release: “Wind Beneath My Wings” plays over that sappy beach scene and, God help us, we turn into mush. So who cares if it’s got all the makings of a Lifetime movie and the first hour seems longer than all the years we spend with these girls? This one’s about seeing The Divine Miss M in this hug-a-friend PSA. Extras include a new interview with Mayim Bialik (Blossom, The Big Bang Theory), who plays the young C.C., and Bette’s “Wind Beneath My Wings” music video — for the real masochists.

Alfred Hitchcock: The Masterpiece Collection. Scary birds and a killer shower scene gave Alfred Hitchcock his nickname The Master of Suspense, but the great filmmaker also left us hanging when it came to some of his more questionably gay characters. Obviously there’s Norman Bates as a cross-dresser in Psycho, but there’s no question that, viewed now, there’s a lot of gay going on in 1948’s Rope, about two patently  gay men (played by two gay actors, no less) who murder a former classmate, stuff him in a chest and serve a buffet-style dinner on top of it.

During one extra, out screenwriter Arthur Laurents and actor Farley Granger talk about the gay subtleties that were snuck into the play-turned-film. Fifteen more hours of bonus features — commentaries, screen tests and a new documentary on The Birds — accompany the 15 films in this sublime Blu-ray collection (only two have ever been released in this format). The essential ones are all here: Rear Window, North by Northwest, Vertigo, with old-Hollywood legends like Grace Kelly and Cary Grant. And of course there’s Psycho, the movie that secured Hitchcock’s master status. In hi-def, Anthony Perkins never looked so good as a woman.

Sunset Boulevard was Gloria Swanson at her crazy best (read: those eyes), inhabiting the role of a washed-up starlet who’s lost her marbles. The actress plays Norma Desmond in this 1950 film noir about a silent movie star long forgotten, who takes in studly screenwriter Joe Gillis (William Holden) who’s hurting for money and could also be key to the comeback she so desperately needs. What starts as a movie-making partnership turns into codependency, a screwy affair and ultimately murder.

Rightfully regarded as one of the best American films of the 20th century, Sunset Boulevard is a deliciously campy black comedy about celebrity vanity that’s still relevant to the real-life stars of today — don’t you think Lindsay Lohan is ready for her close-up? Included on the stunning Blu-ray remaster are an insightful commentary and the debut of a deleted scene.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. There’s not much eating or praying, but grief and renewal — and lots of loving — all reside in this old people’s destination movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. The delightful adaptation of the bestselling book casts seven retired strangers — played by the elite British ensemble of Judi Dench, Maggie Smith and Tom Wilkinson — who are off to India to experience new beginnings. When they arrive at what was advertised as a swanky resort (but isn’t), that turns out to be nearly impossible — or so they thought.

Dench, as a newly widowed woman, adds another dynamic performance to her IMDB list, as does a fiery Smith playing a wheelchair-bound racist and Wilkinson in the role of a gay man with romantic ties to India. With so much acting greatness, no wonder there’s a Blu-ray extra dedicated to them: “Casting Legends” reinforces why The Golden Girls aren’t the only blue hairs worth our time.

Tarantino XX. Women are fierce in the twisted world of Quentin Tarantino. They cease knife brawls, kick Kurt Russell’s butt and rock a pantsuit with the empowering swagger of a lesbian. That’s why his iconic femme fatales are so revered: They are to film what Madonna is to music. The Kill Bill series’ Uma Thurman as an avenging Bride, Zöe Bell and Rosario Dawson holding their own in a high-speed car chase, and pre-L Word Pam Grier in a wildly amusing grrl-power plot that has her double-crossing a money launderer — they’re all here in this 10-disc commemorative release that celebrates the influential and controversial virtuoso.

Also among them: Tarantino’s earliest films, Reservoir Dogs and True Romance (which he wrote) and Pulp Fiction, the quintessential 1994 release that became as well-known for its imitable style as it did for that gay rape scene. Those films launched a career of pop-culture riffs and genre subversion with high body counts and hardcore quotables. Film aficionados analyze his impressive oeuvre during the Critics Corner extra, and there’s a Q&A with Tarantino and Grier who reunite to talk Jackie Brown. Both are among five hours of new special features. Pantsuit not included.

Finding Nemo. Who knew a fish that speaks whale and forgets everything could keep Ellen DeGeneres’ career swimming? Finding Nemo, though, was just as much a success for the once-lambasted lesbian (turned cool talk-show host) as it was for Pixar, who made box-office history with its sweet story of a fish tyke separated from his dad after braving the underwater world — the catalyst for his father to face his own fears as he sets out on a wild adventure with Dory to find his son. Nemo, released in 2003, raised the (sand)bar for animated features of the last 10 years, but now — on Blu-ray and in 3D for the first time — there’s no forgetting that this Oscar winner is one of Pixar’s masterpieces. Even if you’re Dory.

The Muppet Christmas Carol. For the ‘90s generation of kids, it wasn’t Christmas without the Muppets. Now the Justin Bieber crowd — and grown-ups who still remember this holiday classic as a gay ol’ time — can bask in all the lighthearted glee of watching Jim Henson’s puppet pals star alongside Ebenezer Scrooge with this Blu-ray release. Fresh off a welcome big-screen return with The Muppets last year, Kermit and Miss Piggy take on the Cratchits with charm — and, in the case of the latter, diva audaciousness — while Michael Caine as Scrooge does a dead-on interpretation of the legendary party pooper. Two new extras, including Christmas carols from the singing puppets when the movie’s paused, debut on this edition. Joy to the world, the Muppets have come.

Brave. Pixar has given us leading men, some adorable fish and even a robot, but what about a woman? We finally got our pretty princess in Brave, a medieval fable about Merida and the path she takes to be her own person. That’s great and all, but it’s that curly red mane — every strand perfectly drawn and flowy — that really had me in awe. It says a lot about Brave: animated up to usual brilliant Pixar standards, but lacking the studio’s inventive storytelling. Be yourself. Go your own way. Shoot a bow and arrow even if you’re a girl.

We get it, and we’ve seen it all before. Recently, in fact, with How to Train Your Dragon, an ancient story of standing up for what you believe in. Part of the problem is Pixar’s own greatness: The franchise has set the bar so high with Up, Finding Nemo and Wall-E that this installment just can’t compete with a tender tale of an old man and his air balloon or a cute android couple. The special features — a full disc of them! — focus on the animation, from complications of creating cloth (seriously) to discussions of smelly Scottish people.

Moonrise Kingdom. No offense to Wes Anderson, but the North Texan’s offbeat, star-studded comedy about young love is as dainty, whimsical and lovable as hearing Taylor Swift sing about being a princess. This is a compliment, for Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom, his best film ever, packs just as much nostalgic magic in its narrative: Two precocious misfits (first-timers Jared Gilman as orphan Boy Scout Sam Shakusky and Kara Hayward as 12-year-old Suzy Bishop) leave their everyday lives and run away into the wilderness, where they think they’ll find their happily ever after.

No more adults, either. Those grownups have their own problems, anyway: Frances McDormand and Bill Murray star as Suzy’s bickering parents, and Bruce Willis makes an endearing sheriff. If you’re not moved by the innocent charm of Moonrise Kingdom — which profoundly speaks to anyone who’s been forbidden to love somebody and loved them anyway — then check yourself for a beating heart. Special features are scarce, with only a few short making-of featurettes, but word is there’ll be a more expansive release for people who heart this movie like I do.

The Amazing Spider-Man. In Marc Webb’s adaptation of the famous comic-book story, Peter Parker is a bullied high-school student transformed into a superhero by a spider bite. He web-blasts villains, crawls ups buildings and gets the confidence to woo Gwen Stacy (a blond Emma Stone being her adorably cute self). Gee, it really does get better. The reboot, released just five years after Sam Raimi’s third and final installment in the Tobey Maguire trilogy, is the most sensitive spinning of Spidey’s web. Every scene featuring Stone and Andrew Garfield, with their awkward getting-to-know-yous, is especially likable, and recent Human Rights Campaign honoree Sally Field as Peter’s aunt is so awesomely emotional she’ll make you miss Brothers & Sisters.

The Amazing Spider-Man also benefits from Webb’s indie touch: The first hour is as beguiling as a lot of his last feature, (500) Days of Summer. And hey, admit it: There are few things in life better than Andrew Garfield Ziploc’ed in Spandex. Unless, of course, he’s doing a catwalk in Spandex, a short bit among extras like cast interviews and a long look into firing up the franchise again.

Friends: The Complete Series. The legacy of Friends isn’t just Jennifer Aniston’s hair: The award-winning NBC show about six pals living in New York was a cultural phenomenon with ratings that are unheard of today in TV land. But it didn’t just champion the tube. Friends, which wrapped in 2004, was the first show to ever televise a lesbian wedding — and even though it was no Will & Grace, it definitely registered a “3” on the Kinsey scale for its sly gay jokes and budding bromances.

Now those — and wedding proposals, triplets and a really bad tan — can be revisited outside of reruns, with all 10 seasons as they aired in glowing hi-def and reformatted for widescreen sets. Along with an episode guide, the discs come in a hardcover book housed in a handsome box that features a maturing hologram of the cast. Seventeen hours of extras are carried over from previous releases, while brand-new retrospectives and a gag reel make their debut. For anyone wanting to remember Central Perk and the musical musings of Phoebe Buffay, this is the way to go.

Contributor Chris Azzopardi is the editor of Q Syndicate. Reach him here.

Like just about everyone in the early ’90s, I had the CD Wilson Phillips, the all-girl trio made up of the daughters of founders of the Mamas and the Papas and the Beach Boys. And like just about everyone else, I forgot about them until Bridesmaids. OK, not forgot — but like Hootie and the Blowfish, they were one of those groups that had a great first album, an unforgettable single (“Hold On,” which I still have to listen to in its entirety when it plays on the radio) and then their moment was gone.

In some ways, it was a surprise, because their close harmonies showed skill (though the band broke up in 1993 anyway). But not it seems less of a surprise, as Live from Infinity Hall (Masterworks) — the DVD of their new album, Dedicated, a tribute of covers originally recorded by their famous parents — reveals a depressing limitation of talent. When Wendy and Carnie Wilson and Chynna Phillips sing in unison, the support of each provides context, if not power; when they go into solos, as they do on the Pet Sounds classic “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” I had to stop the DVD for fear of being driven to madness.

In honesty, I never turned it back on. While calling its concert of Dedicated a tribute to their parents, the first song, “Release Me,” is one of WP’s own hits and the third, “Daniel,” was one of the Taupin-John songs they previously recorded.  And more are to come.

It’s just as well. The band often sounds out of tune as the girls, and the genetic accident that made them the offspring of geniuses does not give them carte blanche to butcher the songs of my youth. In fact, doing oeuvre from the ’60s two greatest vocally harmonic pop bands merely underscores their own weaknesses: The three women’s voices simply don’t have the depth that Cass Elliott and Co., or Brian Wilson, Mike Love et al., were able to impart. It’s best to stick with their 22 year old eponymous CD and remember them for what they were, and not what they are trying to be.

By comparison, the musicality in A MusiCares Tribute to Barbra Streisand (Shout) is almost unquestionable. Despite the packaging, which features Babs’ name and photo in huge letters, this isn’t a concert video of hers — not even her recent CD of old unreleased tracks. Nope, the diva sings only two songs at the end; the rest are covers performed live at a gala honoring La Streisand by the likes of Diana Krall, Seal, LeAnn Rimes, Tony Bennett, Herbie Hancock and Barry Manilow.

The performances are occasionally remarkable. Seal ventures into rare Barbra territory, daring to sing from her disco era — a version of “Guilty” that feels contemporary and is perhaps even better than hers. Wannabe Lea Michele of Glee does it big on “My Man,” and Jeff Beck’s bluesy guitar riffs anchor a gospelized version of “Come Rain or Come Shine” sung soulfully by LeAnn Rimes and BeBe Winans.

Not all are winners. Nikki Yanofsky’s jazzy mashup of “One a Clear Day/Lazy Afternoon” is saved only by Hancock’s piano work, and Bill Maher’s standup act, while hilarious, seems out of place and slightly dated post-election.

Indeed, the biggest let-down about of the DVD is its production values. It all sounds good, but from the misleading packaging to the cold opening to the fact it’s from a concert that took place nearly two years ago (jokes about the “new” Speaker of the House fall flat post-Romney).

But that’s more or less an easy fix: Don’t look, listen … and fast forward through any singers you don’t already like. There’s enough good there to give it a listen.

Wilson Phillips: Live from Infinity Hall — no stars

A MusiCares Tribute to Barbra Streisand — two and a half stars

It’s difficult separating Shores-the-writer from Shores-the-performer and Shores-the-man … probably because he so willingly conflates them all. The pain and anger and dark humor all come from the same place, and Shores has never been afraid to put it all out there on the line.

And, like many of the best humorists, Shores has no filter — he makes John Waters look prudish when he talks of the strangest penis he’s ever encountered (and demonstrates the yoga-like fellatio he was forced to perform on it), the hateful letters he has received and replied to, covering everything from fans of Randy Harrison (whom Shores trashes routinely in his act), midgets he has insulted and even right wing pundit Victoria Jackson. And if there’s one thing clear from these letters it’s this: You don’t want to be on Shores’ bad side.

I have a feeling, though, he’d agree with that. He doesn’t shy from controversy, as his foul-mouthed (but frequently hilarious) rants prove. Those easily offended (including devout Christians and Republicans, for whom he saves his choicest barbs) best steer clear.

The DVD itself has no special features, though Dallas audiences many enjoy not just of seeing cutaways of the audience in the Rose Room, but also a bit in the parking lot behind the club where Shores and his entourage are accosted by Christian protesters. But 90 minutes of uber-gay preaching should be enough.

Can I get an amen, brother?

— A.W.J.

Del Shores: Sordid Confessions, available now on DVD from QC Cinema.

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition October 5, 2012.

Our New Family. Dallas-based documentarians and life partners James Dowell (pictured far left) and John Kolomvakis (pictured near left) have made movies about other gay people (Sleep in a Nest of Flames about poet Charles Henri Ford, The Stages of Edward Albee about the playwright), but they turn the cameras on themselves for this memoir of their efforts to become fathers through surrogacy well past middle-age.

Through archive footage, which shows James and John as handsome young hippies at the dawn of Stonewall, the film tracks their family histories, as well as how the conventional mores of 1950s Texas shaped their understandings of family identity. Those scenes are juxtaposed against their efforts to conceive with a generous surrogate, who eventually gives birth to twin sons. Including interviews with local gay luminaries like Dennis Coleman, Our New Family is part home movie, part social document tracking “the love that dare not speak its name” up to same-sex marriage. With the repeal this week of “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” it brings into relief just how far we have come.

Screens Sept. 24 at noon at the Angelika Film Center Mockingbird Station.

Fourplay: San Francisco. A trans “therapist” visits a dying heterosexual man, to give him a bi-curious experience before he passes. This unusual and occasionally sexually explicit short turns what is basically an escort call into a poignant and oddly romantic encounter, aided by a lush and soaring musical underscore and honest performances.
Screens Sept. 24 at 3:45 p.m. at Hyena’s Comedy Club at Mockingbird Station with the “Strange Ones” shorts program.

— Arnold Wayne Jones

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition September 23, 2011.

The Variants began last summer as an experiment, but generated enough traffic that it’s already back for season 2 (the next episode, airing Wednesday, features Celeste Martinez). Until then, it’s a hoot to see all the local people and places in the season 1 DVD, now available.

The DVD contains lots of cool extras — audio commentary, a blooper reel, a slideshow or art and rants from misanthrope clerk Barry — but the best things about the DVD? Watching the entire series play out at once like one long feature … and not having to worry about bandwidth problems interrupting your stream.

— A.W.J.

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition July 1, 2011.

ARNOLD WAYNE JONES  | Life+Style Editor
jones@dallasvoice.com

………………….

2.5 out of 5 stars
YOU SHOULD MEET MY SON!
Joanne McGee, Stewart Carrico, Steve Snyder. 85 mins.
Now available on DVD.

………………….

A Southern mom, Mae (Joanne McGee) — more over-the-top than anything Tennessee Williams would have conceived (her Pigeon Forge accent makes Dolly Parton sound like Kate Middleton) — clucks over her single son Brian (Stewart Carrico). Every week for Sunday dinner, she invites him over, trying to set him up with the “right girl.”

But Mom doesn’t seem to notice Brian has a “roommate” who’s as well dressed as he with gelled hair and lots of naked statuary around their restored Victorian house filled with antiques. At least until the roomie “moves out” and Brian becomes inexplicably despondent.

It’s a familiar premise in the traditional gay comedy: The anti-gay parent slowly realizing their son is a poofter, then going through the process of coming to terms with it. There’s the visit to the gay reparative therapist (a Texas redneck who sounds suspiciously like George W.), and the struggles with the Old Testament.

Only in You Should Meet My Son! (which screened earlier this year at OutTakes Dallas), those scenes are over 20 minutes in (a good thing, too — they are weak and clichéd, and played for dumb laughs that never come). Mom, despite her limp-wristed Tinkerbell slurs against “those kind” when talking about her hairdresser, suddenly becomes Sharon Gless from Queer as Folk once she finally figures it out: If her son’s gonna be a sodomite, dammit, she’s gonna find him a man who satisfies him sexually.

Mom becomes her gay son’s pimp.

Writer-director Keith Hartman’s script has a frustrating tendency to veer uncontrollably between farcical camp (think But I’m a Cheerleader or Another Gay Movie) and witty banter (a scene with Brian and one of his mom’s female set-ups has a sassy repartee). When it’s good, it’s a lot of fun.

And it’s good often, especially once Mae and her sister Rose (Carol Goans) go cruising a gay bar on the hunt for Mr. Right, and end up recruiting an ensemble of drag queens, leather daddies and twinks (including a potential love interest played by Steve Snyder). In a twist on The Bird Cage, Mae hosts dinner parties designed to out her family and frighten away the closet cases and homophobes. Think Auntie Mame with male strippers.

Those moments trump the intrusively annoying perky bossa nova-like score — all Austin Powers retro horns and go-go boot silliness — and the inconsistencies in the script, not the least of which is Mae’s magically fluid gaydar. (She couldn’t pick up on obvious clues about her son for 30 years, but eventually, the second she sees a muscle twink in a tank top she instantly pegs him as a bossy bottom and sets about Yenta-izing with the unrelenting determination of Megatron. Mae might seem like a Southern Baptist, but she’s really a Jewish mom.)

The supporting cast does a lot of the heavy lifting, combining beefcake with saucy flamboyance and ease on camera. But even though McGee overplays at first, Mae ultimately endears herself to us, allowing her love for her son to guide her, not her prejudices. It’s a surprisingly heartfelt way to end a silly comedy.

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition June 17, 2011.

We couldn’t help recall, after reading David Webb’s article "More than just a nightclub" (page 37), the 2006 documentary, "Small Town Gay Bar," which offers insight to a fellowship that we in the big city might take for granted. Filmmaker Malcolm Ingram shows tiny town bars in the Mississippi Bible Belt where lingering homophobia still resides. (And so does Fred Phelps!)

Rick Gladish, owner of Rumors, wants his place to be for everyone: Gay, straight, man woman, he doesn’t care as long as everyone knows "this is a place you come and hang out and have fun with gay people." The bar itself, a nondescript gray construct with a gravel driveway and not much else, hardly looks like a den of iniquity.

But inside on a weekend evening, the place is happening like Station 4, with men, women and couples dancing to the beats of the DJ. As we meet the patrons, we can see the haven that these bars have become for them. Rumors is a sanctuary as well as hot spot, but during the course of the film, Gladish considers selling it.

A couple we only know as Lori and Ruby have taken ownership of the old gay bar, Crossroads Estates, that was in complete disrepair. Nothing more than a shack really — but the lesbian couple plans on giving the place an overhaul. Their goal is to start a new gay bar in the town of Savoy, Miss. As word gets out in the community, excitement builds for their newest haven.

The film balances itself by giving camera time to the likes of Phelps and the American Family Association, but the story unfolds less with homophobia and more with people like Gladish and Lori and Ruby as heroes to the LGBT community in their towns.

Ingram captures the essence of gay life in a small town while revealing a real sense of pride in their communities.

Here’s something you can enjoy with your dad on Father’s Day — but maybe for very different reasons.

The boxed set "Muscle Madness" is a collection of five cheesefests of sword and sandal DVDs of the Steve Reeves variety: Spaghetti Westerns set in the ancient world with bad dubbing and corny acting.

Doesn’t sound like your thing? Well maybe you’ll remember, as I do, Sunday afternoons with Dad watching this crap: he distracted by the meaningless action sequences, me thrilled by the toga-clad muscle men getting sweaty with each other in the gladiator’s arena. Oh, Dad, how could you not see it coming?

None of the movies individually has much cache (titles include "Giant of Marathon, "War of the Trojans" — yeah, I know — "Hercules Against the Moon Women," "Goliath and the Sins of Babylon" and "Colossus and the Amazon Queen"). But the wiseass packaging — "Unrated/Color/No Naked Girls" proclaims one case, which also contains a booklet of calisthenics on "How to be a Hercules" — shows an understanding of the camp value of these justly-forgotten classics. Who wants something good to share with D­­ad, anyway?

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition June 19, 2009.

Convoluted gay zombie flick surprises with sexy, gory camp

UNDEAD GAY TEEN: Otto (Crisfar, left).

Andy Warhol meets George Romero, and screws him up the butt, in "Otto; or, Up with Dead People" ($27.99, Strand).

Gay Canadian filmmaker Bruce LaBruce ("No Skin off My Ass," "Hustler White") harks back to the days of Warhol’s Factory, when self-anointed "superstars" were given free rein in front of the camera to spout whatever gibberish came into their heads.

"Otto" is much slicker: James Carman’s camera captures some beautiful images, and LaBruce scripts the gibberish with a frequent air of pomposity. Is LaBruce making or mocking pretentious art? Probably both.

There are a ton of zombie movies in the pipeline. But it’s safe to say there will never be another one like "Otto."

"In the not-too-distant future … a new wave of gay zombies had emerged." Otto (Jey Crisfar) is an undead teenager. Zombies aren’t exactly a novelty in this universe, but because most of them are gay they’re doubly subject to bashings by gangs of straight, living thugs.

Otto doesn’t remember his life before he died. Wandering aimlessly, he ends up in Berlin, where he meets lesbian filmmaker Medea Yarn (Katharina Klewinghaus).

She’s working on a political zombie movie, "Up with Dead People" (referencing the conservative American cheerleaders of the 1970s’ Up with People). But Medea is so taken with Otto’s zombie act — she thinks he’s acting — she starts making a documentary about him.

The zombie rules are inconsistent in LaBruce’s mythology. Zombies don’t bleed, but we see Otto in a pool of blood after he’s bashed.

LaBruce includes sex and nudity as a political act, or because he likes it. We see how zombies create new orifices in which to pleasure themselves.

There are some snarkily funny bits. Otto wanders from a butcher shop (Fleischerei) to a gay bar called Flesh that’s having "Zombie Night." He always finds places where his manner of walking, like a scarecrow that’s become unanchored, fits in.

If Otto represents LaBruce’s sexy gay side, Medea is his political side, making pronouncements like, "On average, one American consumes as much energy as 370 Ethiopians."

There’s no point in trying to explain "Otto; or Up with Dead People." You either get it or you don’t. And you may enjoy it even if you don’t.

Grade: B

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition February 27, 2009.

The lesbian rumors are exaggerated. But Allen and Cruz are outstanding

SEXY SANDWICH: Maria Elena (Cruz, left), lothario painter (Bardem) and Cristina (Johansson) cook up a sexy three-way.

When Woody Allen’s at the top of his game, no one is better. His batting average isn’t what it was in the ’70s and ’80s but at 72, he keeps turning out a film a year, and hitting an occasional home run like "Vicky Cristina Barcelona," (Weinstein, $28.95)

What’s most remarkable is the way Allen keeps growing and adapting. He’s only recently left his comfort zone of New York Jewry to study European cultures. And he’s continually refining and updating his technique while retaining the economic storytelling style epitomized by the new film’s title. It’s not one woman’s name but a shorthand version of "Vicky and Cristina Spend a Summer in Barcelona," which sounds too much like the third Harold & Kumar film.

Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) are best friends with personalities as opposite as their hair color. Blonde Cristina is a free spirit with no idea what she wants to do with her life. Brunette Vicky opts for security. She’s engaged to Doug (Chris Messina), who is steady, upwardly mobile — in a word, boring.

A relative of Vicky’s, Judy (Patricia Clarkson) offers to put the two up for the summer in the Barcelona house she shares with her husband Mark (Kevin Dunn).

They soon meet an artist, Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), who invites the young women to fly with him to Oviedo for the weekend, being honest about wanting to have sex with both of them.

Vicky says no. Cristina says yes, and the ayes have it. The weekend doesn’t turn out the way anyone expects but back in Barcelona, the natural order is restored.

Soon Cristina moves in with Juan Antonio, who is obviously still hung up on the ex-wife who stabbed him on the way out of his life.

The movie appears to be moving along at a pretty good clip but right at the midpoint it goes into hyper-drive with the arrival of Maria Elena (Penélope Cruz), Juan Antonio’s ex. She drives everyone crazy before the household settles into a ménage à trois of sorts.

"Vicky Cristina Barcelona" would have worked as a drama or as the kind of laugh-a-minute yukfest Allen used to make. Instead, it’s somewhere between, with enough humor that you can relax and enjoy it without feeling challenged.

Cruz is the standout in an outstanding cast, deserving of her supporting actress nom for taking a clichéd spitfire role and boldly going where no woman has gone before. Bardem is sexier than he’s been in a decade, while Johansson and Hall couldn’t be better matched as the mismatched friends.

You may have heard rumors of lesbian action but they’re greatly exaggerated. There’s one hot but brief kiss between Cruz and Johansson, which Woody may have included for his own amusement but it works. And when Bardem inevitably joins the ladies, their little dance recalls the one in "Cabaret" and fades out just as fast.

There’s time for enough sightseeing that if you don’t know who Antonio Gaudi was, you’ll be familiar with his style by the end of the movie. You’re probably already familiar with Woody Allen’s style but this is a chance to see it at its best.

Grade: B+

Two videos just came out that touch on matters of faith. Irish-Catholic Julia Sweeney’s "Letting Go of God" ($19.99, Indefatigable) is about breaking up with the Lord Almighty. "It’s Pat" from "Saturday Night Live" examines the belief in a higher power. From there, Sweeney creates hilariously sweet monologues about Jesus’ bipolar behavior, the Bible’s arcane passages and why atheism is a morally sound ideology.

"We’re All Angels" ($16.98, Centaur) is a documentary about "Jason & deMarco," a gay Christian duo who try to balance pop stardom while performing on the Christian church circuit. Produced by Michael Huffington (Arianna’s gay ex), "We’re All Angels" is like a squeaky clean version of "Truth or Dare." If anything, the footage shows that Jason and deMarco are a normal couple who mostly get along, but sometimes bicker and disagree. Their make-up sex must be hawt!

Gay skinheads at Dallas Video Fest

UNLIKELY PALS: Skahead (Stovall, left) and Rolf.

This 19-minute short doesn’t shy away from dialogue that includes "faggot" and "nigger." "Hustler WP" takes a "names will never hurt me" approach while following two Chelsea boys who are trying to score some Ecstasy for a night at The Roxy.

Rolf (Tony Lupinacci) and Skahead (Paul Oakley Stovall) are seemingly mismatched friends. White skinhead Rolf wears a swastika on his arm, and Skahead is a big, bald black dude in neo-Nazi suspenders and Doc Martins. Instead of getting bogged down by philosophies associated with their Aryan drag, Rolf and Skahead are what made George Jefferson and Archie Bunker so damn cute.

And "Hustler WP" is cute — especially with a soundtrack of ska, reggae and Larry Tee ditties, as well as a cameo by Sophia Lamar as Assumpta, the trashy tranny drug-dealer.

On Saturday, The Dallas Video Festival screens "Hustler WP" as part of their Shorts After Dark program. It’s the type of short made by first-time filmmakers. Although Craig Cobb wrote, produced, directed and edited "Hustler WP" in 2006, Casper Andreas takes an associate producer credit: Andreas gave us "Slutty Summer" and "A Four Letter Word."

Screens Nov. 8 at 10 p.m. at the Angelika Film Center. Shorts After Dark program includes "New Business," "The New Position," "My Mom Smokes Weed" and "3 Stories About Evil."

The DVD of "The Boys in the Band" (Paramount, $26.98) comes out on Tuesday, and it’s aged better than I thought. It’s not a great movie, but it’s impossible to turn away from.

Directed by William Friedkin ("The Exorcist," "Cruising"), "Boys" is an intense study about self-hating Manhattan gays. Some of the acting performances are electrifying — like Cliff Gorman as the flaming "Connie Casserole" Emory. Produced by Dominick Dunne, this 40-year-old story about gay life is an interesting artifact to study in the Obama presidential age.

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition November 7, 2008.