Quack Quack Quack

I know that I’m the umpteenth person to make this joke today, but it’s nice to see that Charlie Conway finally made the big time. Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy for the people of Anaheim. It just irks me that a hockey team named after a movie won the Stanley Cup. That makes the last three champions from California, North Carolina, and Florida. Every time a warm weather team wins it all, I die a little inside. Way to go, NHL. Your game is on the verge of extinction, and your best teams are in cities that can’t even produce a decent ice-covered pond in the winter.

Knockout

During a summer where it seems destined that over-hyped, adrenaline-fueled regurgitations of the over-hyped, adrenaline-fueled franchises of two to three years ago will dominate the box office (not that there’s anything wrong with that), it’s a welcome sign that, once again, we can turn to a smart, innovative comedy to clean the palate. Two years ago, writer and director Judd Apatow provided perhaps the finest example of the phenomenon with The 40-Year-Old Virgin. This year, Apatow brings us Knocked Up, a refreshingly droll story about a goofy schlub whose one-night stand with a hottie turns into an unexpected wake-up call to adulthood.

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