The Taking Of Pelham 123 [movie review]

* Released theatrically in June; available on DVD November 3rd

The newest version of The Taking Of Pelham 123 is the second remake of the 1974 original (a late 90's made-for-TV version is the other). I haven't seen the 1974 version, though the word "classic" pops up regularly in the little I had read or heard about it over the years. One assumes it must be better than the 2009 version, which then begs the question: if you can't improve upon the original then why bother? Of course, this clearly isn't a perspective Hollywood has ever subscribed to.

Denzel Washington plays Walter Garber, a New York City Transit employee demoted to the relatively lowly position of train dispatcher. Garber has the bad luck of being on duty when John Travolta (identified in the film only as Ryder) and some accomplices hijack one of the subway trains on Garber's watch. A large ransom is demanded, with a window of only 60 minutes granted for delivery.

And so begins your standard "countdown" thriller, a sub-genre that rarely seems to work well (the most recent misstep was the atrocious 88 Minutes). There's a decent amount of tension as the clock winds down and the money is hastily organized and subsequently rushed across the city, causing chaos on the city's already chaotic streets. During these scenes the obvious question comes to mind: why wouldn't they just get a helicopter? James Gandolfini, playing the city's mayor, asks the same question later in the movie.

Washington, looking noticeably heavier for this role, is solid playing an everyman saddled under the weight of corruption allegations, which led to his demotion. It's not a flashy part and one wishes he had a little more to work with...some of the dialogue is uninspired enough to elicit expectations of him dropping a rote "I'm getting too old for this shit"-type line on us. The role also brought to mind comparisons with 1999's The Bone Collector, also set in NYC, where his character had plenty of faceless communication amidst time constraints with the movie's other main character (played by Angelia Jolie).

Travolta should avoid bad guy roles because he simply can't play them. Previous turns as the villain in Swordfish, Broken Arrow and Face/Off have proven that. Here, he resorts once again to chewing scenery and spontaneous acts of violence. I'll give him marks for looking the part, with badass neck tattoos and an imposing fu manchu moustache, but that just isn't enough. His accomplices barely register onscreen, which is a sad comment when one of them is played by the usually entertaining Luis Guzmán.

Gandolfini was the highlight of the film for me, turning in a strong performance as the city's leader hopeful of changing the public's opinion of him, but also genuinely concerned and eager to assist in resolving the crisis. He displays a likability foreign to his previous film roles, which always seemed like offshoots of his bearish Tony Soprano character (like his recent turn from In The Loop). John Turturro, playing the hostage negotiator, should have given a little more pause to the role he signed on for. Aside from the paycheque, visibility of appearing in a high profile movie with two huge stars and another credit to add to his body of work, there's little else that would appear to have drawn him to the film and this part, specifically. Actually, now that I think about it, I suppose those aren't exactly the worst reasons for an actor doing a movie. It beats digging ditches for a living now, doesn't it?

Tony Scott directed the film, his fourth collaboration with Washington. His directing style, with all of its fancy tricks and stylized shots, gets a little intrusive and tiresome. The end result isn't exactly a terrible movie - just one you'll not give much thought to an hour after you've seen it.

Rating: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Manic Street Preachers - Journal For Plague Lovers Tour [concert review]

* October 4th, Phoenix Concert Theatre, Toronto

While the Manic Street Preachers might not have an abundance of fans in America or Canada, they certainly have a loyal, rabid core of them that have waited a long time to see them play live. Ten years, in fact. The Welsh band last toured these parts in 1999 in support of the This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours album. The breakout success back home in Europe for their previous release, 1996's Everything Must Go, had also spilled over for its followup, but their success didn't make the journey across the pond. The band decided not to force the issue by attempting to buck the trend of innumerable British bands failing to crack the North American market, instead focusing their career mostly in Europe where they routinely play to packed stadiums in the tens of thousands.

The Phoenix Concert Theatre was a hair shy of what I'd consider "packed", but it was a strong turnout of an estimated 1000-1300 people. That was a marked improvement on the estimated crowd of only 250-300 attendees in Detroit two nights before. When the band hit the stage the crowd erupted, thankful either for the opportunity to finally see them again or for the first time. Manic Street Preachers is James Dean Bradfield on lead vocals and guitar, Nicky Wire on bass and Sean Moore on drums. Two extra musicians, a guitarist and a keyboard player, joined the band on stage. I must admit, I couldn't even hear a hint of any keyboard sounds coming from the P.A. until nine songs in, when he played the intro to "Tsunami". This reminded me of the last time I saw the band, almost 10 years ago to the month at The Warehouse (now Kool Haus). I thought the exact same thing back then in regard to the extra keyboardist playing with them. Aside from that, the sound mix for this latest show was actually quite good.

Live staple "Motorcycle Emptiness" topped the setlist, immediately drawing in the crowd for vocal accompaniment duties, a trend that would continue throughout the tight 95 minute set. The distinct arpeggioed intro of the next song signaled "No Surface All Feeling", one of my favourite Manics songs. "Peeled Apples", one of four songs played off the band's latest album (Journal For Plague Lovers) was next, with Bradfield introducing it with a word of recognition towards the song's lyricist and former guitarist, Richey Edwards (now presumed dead - click here if you're unfamiliar with the story). The new material translates well live, especially "Jackie Collins Existential Question Time". Given the band's long absence, I'd say it was a smart decision to limit the new songs to four, allowing a little more room in the setlist for a couple more favourites fans have been dying to hear.

Toronto band Rush got a couple of shout-outs during the show - Bradfield played a snippet of "The Spirit Of Radio" before kicking into a stomping version of "Faster", while at another point Wire stopped to recite several lines from the song as if speaking at a poetry reading. Very cool. Wire's second finest between-songs moment to the crowd addressed the most obvious question of the night, to which he said, "I really have no idea why the fuck it's taken us 10 years to get back here". A little past the show's halfway point, Bradfield strapped on an acoustic guitar for beautiful acoustic versions of "This Is Yesterday" and "The Everlasting". His strong voice and exceptional guitar skills are the heart of the band, in my opinion, and he writes challenging material which involves a lot of odd and complex guitar chord formations, making for a complicated combination with the addition of his singing duties...the sum of it is, the man's a highly talented musician.

The mellow portion of the show was then rudely interrupted with the return of the rest of the band and a forceful rendition of "Send Away The Tigers". "You Stole The Sun From My Heart" saw Wire, Bradfield and many in the crowd pogoing during the song's chorus section. Manics classics "Motown Junk" and "Little Baby Nothing" sandwiched the newer "Me And Stephen Hawking" before the energetic "You Love Us" , with the crowd and Bradfield singing the title during the chorus to each other with heartfelt conviction. Yes, that sounds corny, but it is factual. Bradfield introduced the final song, "A Design For Life" with the reminder that the band doesn't do encores. The audience responded in turn with their loudest singing of the show and soaking in what remaining moments with the band they could take with them.

"Long suffering" would aptly describe a North American Manic Street Preachers fan, but if some silver lining can be gathered from the metaphorical cloud represented by the ten year drought it's this: absence, indeed, makes the heart grow fonder. It was a full-on mutual admiration society at The Phoenix, with the crowd as loud and attentive as I've seen at a Toronto show in recent memory and the band, in turn, visibly appreciative of the response (by all accounts it was the best audience on the brief twelve date North American tour). "Mega" was the word Bradfield used more than once to describe the concert-goers.

The band promised to return in about two years, which I have faith they'll try to do, but a lot can happen in two years so I headed into the show determined to savour the entire experience, as I figured I might not get the chance again. Based on the virtually flawless show I witnessed, I hope I'm proven wrong.

Lead singer/guitarist James Dean Bradfield at The Phoenix

(picture from FazerMagazine.com)

Rating: ★★★★★★★★★★

Manic Street Preachers - an introduction.

(I began to review the recent Manic Street Preachers Toronto gig and found myself taking more time and words than anticipated explaining exactly who they were. As a result, I decided to post a separate blog entry with a short history of the band focusing on their almost too-strange-to-be-true earlier years, along with a few musical samples. Consider it my own little condensed Wikipedia write up.)

Manic Street who? Some 13 years after being introduced to this brilliant Welsh band by a friend it pains me, pains, I say, that virtually no one in North America knows who they are. It's not exactly wide-scale success I'm wishing for them - I'll cop to being greedy and possessive enough to not want to share them with the whole world. But still, a little name recognition would be nice, perhaps a song of theirs most contemporary music fans could identify. I've tried to pass on their musical goodness to others, only to be met by indifference. Part of me understands why - their lyrics are, to put it mildly, challenging. After 13 years of consuming their music on a regular basis (I'd anoint them status in a list of my top five favourite music artists), I remain fairly clueless as to what lead vocalist/guitarist James Dean Bradfield is singing about most of the time. And part of that is what fascinates me about the band, along with a host of other reasons.

The words in their songs deal with weighty and unconventional (for rock and roll) subject matter: classic literature is a recurring well from which the band often draws, historic events such as the Spanish Civil War, political themes, religion and art. More traditional "alt rock" (whatever that means nowadays) lyrical explorations of alienation, culture, and occasionally just the odd straightforward love song make their way into the mix as well. Critics have accused them of being overly intellectual or pretentious, a slam that I'd have to back at times. But I've always been a "music first, lyrics second" type of guy and the band's music has captivated me since I first heard it. There's a complexity and depth to it that is truly unique.

Manic Street Preachers, consisting of Bradfield, bassist Nicky Wire, drummer Sean Moore and guitarist Richey Edwards, released their debut album, Generation Terrorists, in 1992. Their sound was a broad mix of punk, Appetite For Destruction-era Guns N' Roses and alt rock, with a proclivity for highly melodic moments, such as from the song "Little Baby Nothing". This song was notable both for its future status as a Manics live staple and the vocal appearance of infamous ex-porn star Traci Lords. Gold Against The Soul served as the follow-up album in 1993 and The Holy Bible was released just a year later. Controversy was never in short supply with the Manics, as they frequently adopted the punk ethos of bluntly speaking their minds about social and political issues, with a further specialty in discussing the lacking merits of numerous other British bands.

No discussion of the band's history would be complete without mentioning the enigmatic Richey Edwards. Edwards split most of the lyrical duties with Wire on the band's first two releases and assumed the bulk of the lyrical work for The Holy Bible. To say his guitar abilities were limited (particularly early on in the band's career) would be a huge understatement. No, Edwards functioned more as the band's wordsmith, shaped their visual look and contributed heavily to their musical direction.

Edwards suffered from severe depression, anorexia, alcohol abuse, and was prone to cutting himself. He famously carved the words "4 Real" into his forearm in 1991 after having the band's authenticity questioned by a journalist (click here for a picture of the result, though be forewarned it's not pleasant). Despite his troubles, Edwards was a highly intellectual person, as is evident from his lyrics or interviews. He also suffered from bad insomnia, which contributed to him reading up to six books a week, with some of the digested words or themes ending up in a Manics song or as a quote in an album's liner notes. In 1994 he spent time in psychiatric hospitals, until disappearing in early 1995 on the day he was supposed to accompany Bradfield on an American promotional tour. His car was found abandoned near a bridge known as a popular suicide spot, but a body was never recovered. Some who knew him speculate that even with his demons he was incapable of taking his own life. Elvis-like sightings have been reported worldwide over the years, though nothing ever proved conclusive. The cult of Richey, which had gained traction even before his disappearance, soared to new levels. His case remained open with him classified as a "missing person", until he was officially declared "presumed dead" in November 2008.

The band later continued on as a three piece with the blessing of Edwards' family, even continuing to put aside his royalties, should he one day resurface. Everything Must Go came out in 1996, containing five songs with Edwards' lyrical input. The album received rave reviews as the band expanded its sound, incorporating orchestral elements and more accessible songs than the previous bleakness of The Holy Bible. Manics fans commonly cite one of these two albums as their high water mark (I personally favour Everything Must Go by a wide margin). The album peaked at number two on the UK charts, matching the performance of first single "A Design For Life".

I hate to now condense over a decade of great music to a single short paragraph, but here it is: five more studio albums have followed since 1996, all of them strong except for the spotty Know Your Enemy. Additionally, they've released a couple of compilation albums and in 2001 became the first western rock band to play Cuba (with Fidel Castro in attendance). The latest album is this year's Journal For Plague Lovers, with all of the lyrics coming from a notebook Edwards gave to the band shortly before his disappearance.

Despite his absence, the ghost of Edwards has hung over (or perhaps "among" might be a better choice of word) the band for years. His work has shown up here and there on Manics songs over that time, but Journal For Plague Lovers shows the band giving him a prominent voice once again, thus bringing another chapter of closure to the tragic, weird history of the Manic Street Preachers and Richey Edwards.

"Little Baby Nothing" (1992, audio only)

"The Everlasting" (1998)

"A Design For Life" (1996)

(YouTube disabled the embedding feature for the video so click here for link)

"Your Love Alone Is Not Enough" (featuring Nina Persson from The Cardigans, 2007)

(YouTube disabled the embedding feature for the video so click here for link)

KISS - Sonic Boom [music review]

* Released October 6th

I was a massive KISS fan for most of my life up until about five years ago. We're talking a run of about thirty years where they were the most important musical act to someone who lived, breathed, and slept music. Now, a statement like that won't win me credibility points with most music fans as KISS has never, shall we say, been a group that garnered a whole lot of respect, a fact they actually claim to enjoy. But I eventually hit the wall as far as the levels of my fandom for the band. The reasons are numerous and ample fodder for a future Mediaboy Musings posting. Suffice it to say, I approached the release of KISS' first studio album in eleven years with varying levels of skepticism, curiosity, nostalgia, and an almost ingrained conditioning of obligation. 

Sonic Boom arrived exclusively in Wal-Mart stores on Tuesday, the newest extension of the store's successful strategy of pairing classic rock acts with exclusive rights to their new releases. So far, the arrangement has paid impressive dividends: The Eagles and AC/DC enjoyed huge sales numbers, and Journey scored its best sales numbers for a new album in ages. Foreigner is taking the same gamble, releasing a new album last week that marked their highest chart debut since 1987 and spurring further sales for their catalog. KISS clearly wants in on the action. Like most of the aforementioned groups, the new album comes packaged with a live DVD and a disc of re-recorded classics, all for the low, low Wal-Mart price of only $12! It is good value for the money, but is the new material worth the wait? Here's a track-by-track review:

"Modern Day Delilah": Most impressive. The opening track with Paul Stanley on lead vocals is tight, has some tasteful drum fills from drummer Eric Singer, the lyrics aren't embarrassing and it delivers a great chorus. Although there's an eleven year gap to consider between 1998's Psycho Circus and Sonic Boom that yielded one, one new song ("Nothing Can Keep Me From You" from the soundtrack to the atrocious Detroit Rock City movie), this is probably the strongest song I've heard from KISS since "Unholy", off 1992's Revenge.

"Russian Roulette": Gene Simmons takes over the singing for this average, tempo-changing song anchored by a fat, greasy bass line. The pre-verse "ah ah ah ah" lines sound like they were just lazily tossed in, though. The pre-release hype from KISS itself was that this album recaptured the vibe of the band circa 1976's Rock And Roll Over, that "every song sounds like that". So far, I'm not hearing it. 80's and 90's era KISS sounds a little more accurate.

"Never Enough": Okay, now we're getting into this just sounding like other 80's hard rock hair bands (and I say that as a huge fan of the genre). The verses steal the guitar riff from Poison's "Nothin' But A Good Time", which in turn stole the opening guitar riff from KISS' "Deuce". Is it theft if you're stealing something back from someone who stole from you? The plagiarism continues as KISS borrows heavily from Whitesnake's "Slide It In" during the choruses. That the band failed to see the remarkable similarity to the Poison guitar parts is amazing, especially when you consider Paul Stanley was originally slated to produce the album it came from (1988's Open Up And Say...Ahh!).

"Yes I Know (Nobody's Perfect)": Now this sounds like 70's KISS...albeit quite average 70's KISS. Gene's words drip with that lascivious, creepy quality he's perfected over decades, at several points just cutting to the chase and vocally leering "baby, it's time to take off your clothes". Guitarist Tommy Thayer lays down a great solo, although it's a completely transparent mimic of original guitarist Ace Frehley's style, with even further elements of another former KISS guitarist, Bruce Kulick, thrown in.

"Stand": It wouldn't be a KISS album without at least one self-empowerment song...this would be that song. Gene and Paul trade off vocals, but there is simply nothing distinguishing about this track. Under the word "filler" in the dictionary, you'll find this song listed.

"Hot And Cold": Another obvious attempt to recreate some 70's magic, with mixed results. There's some funky bass and nice use of cowbell (more cowbell!), which momentarily distracts from the horrible lyrics. A sample: "Well if it's too hot you're too cold/If it's too loud you're too old/Baby, let go of what you can't hold/Baby, you're too hot and cold".

"All For The Glory": Singer gets a shot at lead vocals for the first time on a KISS album. He's a phenomenal drummer, the most technically gifted of the three players KISS have had over their history. Vocally, he's decent, probably a notch above original drummer Peter Criss (although Criss' voice had a little more character). The material Singer has to work with here is minimal, especially the cliched lyrics which are pretty much foreshadowed by the song's title.

"Danger Us": I literally held my head in my hands for a few moments when I listened to this song. The title had we worried, I'll admit. My God, how could it not?! Musically, it's actually quite good, though...the guitar work is simple yet catchy and Stanley sounds at the top of his game. Then I heard the lyrics during the chorus and my head collapsed into my hands. I'll show them here and then no more shall ever be spoken of this song: "Two parts trouble/Double down tough/Danger you/Danger me/Danger us".

"I'm An Animal": Definitely the darkest sounding track on the album, yet another in an accumulating pile of skippable songs. Another nice Thayerfrehley solo.

"When Lightning Strikes": Thayer assumes the lead singer role as the band tries to recreate one of the original concepts of KISS, that all members would share lead vocal duties (although Stanley and Simmons obviously would get the bulk of the work). His voice is completely bland, which meshes well with the lackluster songwriting. Thayer cowrote the song with Stanley and the same recurring thought popped up while listening to Sonic Boom that I had while listening to Stanley's disappointing 2006 solo album, Live To Win: how does a guy that's been writing songs for close to forty years come up with such shite lyrics? One could never accuse KISS of high-minded word craft, lest we forget their gem from 1984's Animalize album titled "Burn Bitch Burn", with the classic line, "Oh babe, I wanna put my log in your fireplace". Admittedly, Gene wrote that one, but you get the idea. This time we're saddled with "When lightning strikes/A howl in the rain and thunder/A fire ignites/A flash of light electrifies my heart and my soul/And lightning's gonna strike tonight". Really, guys? Seriously, you had over a decade to write this stuff.

"Say Yeah": *sigh* No thanks.

Sonic Boom, as the band has reminded us repeatedly during their media blitz to promote the album, contains no outside songwriters, musicians, keyboards or ballads. It also contains no heart or indication it is anything more than the latest slab of merchandise in the grand KISS marketing scheme, along with crap like KISS M & M's, KISS Mr . Potato Head dolls or KISS bingo games.

Rating: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆

Bitch Slap [movie review]

* North American theatrical release in January 2010

* Screened September 14th at Ryerson Theatre

The world premiere of Bitch Slap was appropriately screened during the Toronto International Film Festival's Midnight Madness series. The ode to 60's and 70's sexploitation flicks was met by a rowdy audience, eager for a little mindless T & A-drenched entertainment. Bitch Slap definitely doesn't slouch in the T & A department. Unfortunately, the "mindless" quotient was damn near off the chart.

The plot is a nonsensical mishmash of ridiculous storylines essentially revolving around a diamond heist, many told in a series of flashbacks while the present day action unfolds in a remote desert area. The three main actresses are given suitably Tarantino-esque names like Hel (the brains behind the opeartion, played by Erin Cummings), Camero (the lesbian muscle with huge trust issues and a steady supply of tight pants, played by America Olivo) and Trixie (the naive, but sweet stripper, played by Julia Voth). The dialogue these three are saddled with is so bad that one can't help but feel their pain. Of course, when you sign on for a film with a director (Rick Jacobson, who also co-wrote the screenplay) whose filmography consists of dozens of episodes of bad television like Baywatch, Baywatch Nights, Hercules, Xena and Cleopatra 2525, not to mention d-grade movies such as the eighth installment of the prestigious Bloodfist film series, well, you get what you ask for. There were so many groan-worthy double entendres that I lost count.

Kevin Sorbo and Lucy Lawless (Hercules and Xena, respectively) make cameos, but other than that the entire cast is virtual unknowns. Some might recognize a quick appearance from Zoe Bell, who also acted as the film's stunt coordinator, from her appearances in Quentin Tarantino's Deathproof and as Uma Thurman's stunt double in the two Kill Bill movies.

Everything in Bitch Slap is so over-the-top that it felt like I was being kept at an arm's length from really becoming engaged with the movie. It didn't even function well as stupid escapism. The endless parade of slow motion cleavage shots and worse, a water fight between the three female leads that kept going and going and going...if the movie is laying on the sexual cheese (now there's a visual!) so thick that it alienates its core horny male viewer then it's in a world of trouble, because Bitch Slap has little else going for it.

Rating: ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Keith Urban - Escape Together World Tour [concert review]

* October 3rd, Air Canada Centre, Toronto

Saturday's show at the Air Canada Centre concluded Keith Urban's brief Canadian tour, and it was an upbeat, raucous evening that surely couldn't have disappointed any of the attendees. Energy and good vibes practically emanated from the main attraction, an impressive feat considering seven of the twenty songs in his setlist were slow numbers (and not just lovey-dovey ballads, either..."You'll Think Of Me" and "Til Summer Comes Around" fall squarely in the "downer" category).

Urban's latest album (Defying Gravity, click link for my review) was well-represented, with five songs being performed, including the show opener "Hit The Ground Runnin'". "Days Go By" followed, keeping the energy level elevated before reining things in with the slow building "Stupid Boy", with some impressive extended soloing from Urban at the song's climax. When I first got into Keith Urban's music several months ago it was his guitar skills that most surprised me. To non-fans, I think he comes across as a bit of a lightweight pretty boy, which is a mindset I was guilty of, too. After throwing myself headfirst into his catalog and discovering the depths of his musical ability and songwriting skills, I now know better. And really, why hold the guy's admittedly good looks against him? As a Bon Jovi fan, I know it's bugged me for years every time I heard a similar dig at Jon Bon Jovi. He makes great music (in my opinion...plenty would disagree), which is all that matters. Anyway, I digress...

By song number five ("You're My Better Half") Urban had worked his way to the back of the arena to the smaller satellite stage. An acoustic version of his monster hit "Once In A Lifetime" had bits of Stevie Nicks' "Edge Of Seventeen" thrown in, a nice touch. The balladry of "Making Memories Of Us" (dedicated to wife Nicole Kidman) and then "Only You Can Love Me This Way" followed. Urban returned to the main stage, once again much to the delight of the crowd he walked the length of the arena floor to get through, and into "Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me".

The middle part of the show featured highlights like "Til Summer Comes Around", where Urban again demonstrated his considerable fretboard skills at the end of the moody ballad, as well as great renditions of Defying Gravity's strongest tracks, "Kiss A Girl" and "Sweet Thing". After "Raining On Sunday", Urban's sense of humour was on full display as he donned a headband and sweat bands and, with help from opening act Lady Antebellum vocalist Hillary Scott, signed several tennis balls and then smacked them out to the audience. Even the requisite band intros which followed weren't too dull, with three band members taking the main microphone for snippets of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" (by guitarist Chris Rodriguez), "Ain't No Sunshine" (by bassist Jerry Flowers) and, most popularly, a little Canadian content with multi-instrumentalist Brian Nutter doing a chorus and verse from "Run To You" by Bryan Adams. The rest of the band, all of whom certainly deserve recognition for their excellent performances, is rounded out by mandolin and guitar player Brad Rice and drummer Chris McHugh. After the band introductions, members of Lady Antebellum joined Urban onstage for an acoustic version of The Eagles' "Seven Bridges Road". Not being familiar with the song, an Eagles fan, or a Lady Antebellum fan, it was the only weak moment of the entire show for me.

"You Look Good In My Shirt" and "Somebody Like You" provided a powerhouse one-two punch before the encores, with the former a real surprise, as I've never cared for the song. Urban strapped on a Telecaster that lit up, borrowing a showmanship trick from KISS' Ace Frehley, who started using a lit up Les Paul back in the 70's. He ventured back out into the crowd, this time setting up a brief residence (along with his microphone and its stand) a few steps up in the stairs of the lower bowl section. The crowd ate it up. For the encore, it was "Tonight I Wanna Cry" (with a brief intro using Gordon Lightfoot's "Sundown") and then the sunny optimism of "Better Life" to close the show. Urban introduced the final number with the words "Be good to yourself, believe in yourself. Everything that you need is right inside you”. That might smack of corniness when you're reading it, but in the context of the show and the fact Urban comes across as an extremely genuine person, you know he means it.

After the concert I came home and checked out some reviews from Urban's other Canadian shows and was somewhat disappointed to find his setlist barely changes from night to night. The Toronto show, for example, was the exact same running order as his Winnipeg show. Even much of the stage dialogue appears to be recycled from show to show (like yelling at the crowd when playing on the satellite stage, "Who's got the good seats now?!"). I've been going to live music events for enough years now that I know this is a common practice with most artists. Still, something about it with Keith Urban still killed my buzz a little. Then I gave it some further thought and actually gained even more respect for the show I had just seen. Despite the fact a lot of what he was telling us was probably repeated verbatim from his other concerts, it all still completely felt like it was from the heart, that he truly meant it (such as when he thanked so many people for coming out and paying money for a concert during such touch economic times).

Unfortunately, the seats my friend Marcia and I had weren't the best for taking in the visual enhancements created for the show. We were close to the stage (twenty rows off the floor), but too far to the side of it to appreciate the use of the five video screens, which changed positions from the main stage backdrop, to a 45 degree angle, to hanging horizontally over the band like a roof.

This was my first Keith Urban show and it definitely won't be my last. Urban is a performer who gives his all on stage and the fun and satisfaction he gets from doing it is clearly on display and has an infectious quality the audience seems to feed off of. I've seen well over a hundred shows in my life and I've never seen an artist hang around for as long as he did at its conclusion, shaking hands and signing items for the fans. If he could have played a couple more hours, I'm sure he happily would have.

* Lady Antebellum were adequate openers, but I'm certainly not rushing out to buy their album after seeing them. One thing that surprised me about their set was that they did two and a half cover songs: "Hurts So Good", "Boys Of Summer" and a little of "You Shook Me All Night Along" slipped into one of their own songs. Normally, you won't see an opening act given a short amount of playing time choose to do so many, but I guess they felt the familiarity of the songs would help their cause with the audience. Based on the fairly favourable reaction they received, it looks to have been a pretty good call.

Rating: ★★★★★★★★★☆

Kings Ransom [movie review]

* Premiering October 6th on ESPN

* Screened September 13th at the AMC 7 theatre

Kings Ransom is the first in an ambitious 30 part series for ESPN, under the banner of 30 For 30. Launched in celebration of the sports network's 30th anniversary, respected filmmakers were asked to pick any sports-related topic they desired and create a documentary film about it. Kings Ransom was helmed by Peter Berg, a noted actor, director, producer and writer (Berg has acted on the TV series Chicago Hope, directed films such as The Kingdom and Hancock and is creator, writer and executive producer of the Emmy-winning TV show Friday Night Lights). The 53 minute documentary made its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival and examines the historic 1988 trade of Wayne Gretzky from the NHL's Edmonton Oilers to the Los Angeles Kings, and its significant impact on the sport.

The film conducts new interviews with the central figures (Oilers owner Peter Pocklington, Oilers coach and GM Glen Sather, Kings owner Bruce McNall and Gretzky's wife, Janet), with little new insight into the whole affair being brought to light by anyone. It's amusing, 20 years later, to see the levels at which outraged Oiler fans displayed their contempt for Pocklington - notably, burning him in effigy, as though the dictator of a foreign country who was found guilty of human rights abuses. Not so funny is the reminder that he also received death threats. Also finding her way into the disgruntled fans' crosshairs is Janet Jones Gretzky, who many fans attached the "Yoko" label to, erroneously.

The movie opens with a dramatic shot of Gretzky driving an SUV into his former home rink (L.A.'s Great Western Forum), but that and subsequent shots of him walking in slow motion through the empty, iceless arena while gazing pensively upwards don't quite carry the dramatic heft Berg intends. The Great One is interviewed about the trade on a golf course, an unusual choice of setting, but one that works visually. Perhaps Berg's goal was to create a more relaxed atmosphere more conducive to disarming the normally reserved and guarded legend. He doesn't quite succeed. Berg asks the relevant questions and Gretzky complies with mostly stock, well-trodden answers. Of note from the exchanges: he seems to hold lingering thoughts on how many more championships the Oilers could have won had he stayed (he estimates four or five); he felt he should be the highest paid player in the game; not unlike his on-ice "one step ahead of everybody else" instincts, he saw the bigger picture of what a move to a large U.S. market could do for both the game and his own career.

He wasn't wrong about the latter. After the trade, ticket sales for Kings home games skyrocketed and celebrity attendees, commonplace at NBA Lakers games in the same building, began to also flock to the rink. The league, mostly through U.S. expansion into southern markets, expanded from 21 to 30 teams. Sports Illustrated heralded the NHL as likely to become even bigger than the NBA. Two decades later, the positive effects prove to have been relatively short-term, with the ultimate irony being the mess involving the Phoenix Coyotes, the team Gretzky bought a part of and was heavily involved with in a management capacity, including a role as head coach until his recent resignation.

Kings Ransom isn't really geared towards hardcore hockey fans (especially Canadians) who are already well-versed in the story. Berg does a good job in capturing the Canadian side of it, thoroughly laying out the significance it had on the city of Edmonton and, in fact, the entire country. The movie succeeds at competently revisiting this compelling story, but ultimately fails to compel with its dearth of new insight. Fans seeking another viewpoint on the trade and its effects might want to pick up a new book titled Gretzky's Tears: Hockey, Canada, And The Day Everything Changed by Stephen Brunt, longtime Globe And Mail writer and co-host of Prime Time Sports With Bob McCown.

* Anticipation of a Gretzky appearance at the screening ran high, but he was a no-show. Not surprising, considering the fact his then-team was embroiled in an ugly legal battle. Berg was in attendance in the row behind me for the only screening of the film at the festival, introducing it and taking questions from the audience afterwards. His funniest moment involved recounting a story about playing in Gretzky's charity baseball game in Gretzky's home town of Brantford, Ontario in the early 90's. Early in the game, while playing in the infield, he threw out a baserunner and couldn't understand why the crowd reacted with heavy booing. Turns out the baserunner was Gordie Howe.

Rating: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆