When it comes time to rank the world’s greatest peace-makers, Austin Powers will linger somewhere above Gandhi and below Mother Teresa. His inability to accept conflict into the lives of those around the world is an admirable quality we could merely wish to cling to. His honesty is groovy, his passion for music admirable, and the shagadelic qualities he possesses go beyond the rimmed glasses and funky pinstripe suits. Mike Myers retires the flamboyant flames of the original outing in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, but it is a necessary trade-off to produce the broad appeal the film has. Needing no real introduction, the series has taken on a life of its own through pop culture references and the fear of having an always-lingering 60s hippie who wields a revolver and jagged flirtations like a trained combat veteran.
Most excellent. My apologies, I’m getting my music-obsessed teens mixed up, and the similarities of Bill and Ted and the leading characters of Wayne’s World rather obvious. Two bumbling losers who have a knack for saying “excellent” and not being able to play musical instruments very well have dreams of becoming megastar celebrity sensations. It’s that era of Hollywood stoner humour, Americanisation’s, radical skater dudes popping wheelies and huffing paint. I don’t know, I never experienced life in the early 90s. Still, Wayne’s World is an interesting time capsule of miserable proportions, a piece of film that is, to put it nicely, relatively unfunny.
Before glitzy, high profile biopics of superstar singers and songwriters became the norm for Hollywood, director Steven Soderbergh set out to pick apart several years from the very busy, interesting life of piano player Liberace. I’m not all that familiar with the work of Liberace, all I know is he played piano and had an extreme fondness for chandeliers. That alone is more than enough background information that you need for Behind the Candelabra, which documents Liberace’s six-year relationship with Scott Thorson.