Today I watched two great Michael Keaton movies back to back almost.  Okay, I actually watched return of the King in between them.  First I watched my favorite Michael Keaton movies called “The Paper.”

The paper is a great movie and for a lot of different reasons I can relate to it directly.  I’m not a journalist, the workaholic work ethic and diet coke addiction is definitely something that strikes very close to home.  Also the idealistic search for truth in advertising truth truth comes out as something else that I believe in and act on a regular basis.  In some regards it’s a little bit ironic as I also joy a good yarn or a good story.

The second movie that I watched was Jack Frost.  This movie has a similar theme in the background, as Michael Keaton is again a workaholic although the stymies and musicians to a reporter.  He dies and comes back alive temporarily as a snowman.  This gives them a second chance to be a father to son that he neglected a bit in real life.

So tonight while I was working on my notebook computer, typing up article after article, I was enjoying these great movies.  Right now as I write this review, I’m watching a 1994 movie called The Professional.  I’m also standing up with my back to the fire warming up on cold winter night.  I’m speaking at my computer while I watch the movie using Dragon NaturallySpeaking to transcribe my voice into text and give you this review.  I love this program quite a bit as it makes my life a lot easier, although at times the quality fluctuates a bit.  I can assure you that my grammar is a lot better by type of my fingers. 

When the Godfather of Cinema comes out of desuetude after ten years to make a film, you see that movie even if it’s about a piece of lint it stars Dane Cook. Now, I’m in no way insinuating that “Youth Without Youth” was a Category Gigli Disaster, but it would be a complete disservice to call it a Coppola.

Francis Ford Coppola’s first new film in ten years is an utterly arcane concoction. Youth Without Youth tells the startling tale of an immortal linguistics professor (Tim Roth) on the run from the Nazis who is enamored with an attractive woman (Alexandra Maria Lara) who falls into trances and speaks in ancient Babylonian — and that’s just the opening sequence.

For me to properly expound on the meaning of Youth Without Youth, it would require a meth lab, a chemistry set, and every book by Jean Paul Sartre. I wouldn’t go so far ast to call it stilted and pretentious, but the story definitely appears too preoccupied in its own outre realm. I was told that Francis Ford Coppola financed this film with the monies earned from his wine vineyard . . . Fuck it! I have to be a sour grape.