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No real updates on movies or the movie industry ....


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peace

coolwatrer

Rappers & Actors

Wuz up every body this blog will be short and I do mean very short. I see your boy Ice Cube still getting his movie money with his latest project "The Long Shot" Cube seems to stay consistent with his movie making. I haven't seen the movie, but the reviews have been good.

Now today, 50cent has his new movie coming out "Righteous Kill" which stars Robert De Niro and Al Pacino. 50cent has been making himself a movie star by getting into some great roles. So I will leave you with this go check this movies and maybe we will see you in the next one.

peace Cool Water

Iron Man

The movie Iron Man has proven to be a huge box off hit. I went to see the movie Iron Man and loved it Robert Downey Jr. with a stellar cast really proved that the comic book world has a place in the movie industry. I loved the special effects and how they really made the charchter come to life. Marvel comics has always been a major force in the comic industry, but I really think it could be a player in Hollywood. Next, be on the look out for the incredible Hulk that should be a really movie thriller.

peace
coolwater
www.coolwater101.com

Who Runs Hollywood ?

Who really runs Hollywood? Many people have always asked the question who runs the entertainment industry in Hollywood. Is a group of individuals that we can't see or is it just everyday common executives behind desk. The Jewish community built Hollywood out of disgust of being treated like second class citizens in America. Jews control most of the entertainment industry from Television, film, music, and other media outlets. So if you plan on doing business in the industry just realize you probably will be dealing with a Jew.

peace cool water

http://www.coolwater101.com/

10,000 B.C

The movie ten thousand b.c. was a great story of love that drove a boy to fight for the women of his dreams. I've said this a thousand times its all in the story you got to write a great story then you will be able to capture the audiences attention to win them over on the movie.
You better make it a point in any movie you watch to start paying attention to the movies story.

peace coolwater

www.coolwater101.com

First Sundays

That Negro you love to hate Ice Cube is back at it again with another movie First Sunday. Along with a stellar cast Tracey Morgan, Kat Williams, and Ice Cube have brought you a comedy that is sure to be talked about all year. Ice Cube just keeps sticking with the plan one good movie at a time, and now is beginning to demonstrate some real power in the movie industry by producing, directoring, acting, and executive producing movies at will. Ice Cube is showing America that you can live your life how you want and still get folks to love you no matter how they saw you in the past.

First Sunday is sure to be the talk of the town in this years comedy arena. This is Cool Water saying "do you" and let the rest take care of its self.

peace coolwater

American Gangsta

By MANOHLA DARGIS Published: November 2, 2007 Greatness hovers just outside “American Gangster,” knocking, angling to be let in. Based in rough outline on the flashy rise and fall of a powerful 1970s New York drug lord, Frank Lucas, the film has been built for importance, with a brand-name director, Ridley Scott, and two major stars, Denzel Washington as Lucas, and Russell Crowe as Richie Roberts, the New Jersey cop who brings him down. It’s a seductive package, crammed with all the on-screen and off-screen talent that big-studio money can buy, and filled with old soul and remixed funk that evoke the city back in the day, when heroin turned poor streets white and sometimes red. More About This Movie Overview Tickets & Showtimes New York Times Review Cast, Credits & Awards Readers' Reviews Trailers & Clips View Clip... Skip to next paragraph Skip to next paragraph Multimedia Slide Show Harlem Heavy Related For Jay-Z, Inspiration Arrives in a Movie (September 20, 2007) This being an American story, as its title announces and Steven Zaillian’s screenplay occasionally trumpets, there’s plenty of blue in the mix too, worn by some of New York’s very un-finest. Mr. Lucas was among the city’s most notorious underworld hustlers, but one of the film’s points (at times you could call it a message) is that he was just doing what everyone with ambition, flair and old-fashioned American entrepreneurial spirit was doing, including cops: getting a piece of the action. His piece just happened to be bigger than most, stretching across Harlem and snaking into other neighborhoods, into alleys and apartments where someone with ready cash and a hungry vein was always aching to get high. You see a few of those veins, popping, all but jumping in anticipation of another hit. Sometimes the needle slides into a clean arm, though every so often the camera comes uncomfortably close as a spike jabs into a suppurating wound. You could call these images metaphoric, something about the oozing, bleeding body of the exploited underclass, but mostly they’re just graphic evidence of the damage done. Despite the intermittent nod to someone nodding out and even dying, this isn’t about the suffering of addicts or of those forced to watch their neighborhoods perish alongside them. It’s about good guys and bad, a classic story of white hats and black squaring off at the corral at 116th Street and Eighth Avenue. Mr. Crowe, his jaw thrust forward as aggressively as his pelvis, wears the white hat, while the silky, smooth-moving, smooth-talking Mr. Washington wears the black. They’re irresistible, though neither possesses the movie because each occupies a separate if parallel story line. Mr. Washington has the more developed and dynamic role, which he inhabits easily, whether flashing his wolfish grin or draining the affect from Lucas’s face to show the soulless operator beneath the swagger and suit. Lucas’s rival, Nicky Barnes (Cuba Gooding Jr. in a sharp, small turn), wore the pimp threads and fedoras the size of manhole covers (he also read Machiavelli). Lucas dressed like the businessman he believed himself to be and was. Formally, the plot takes the shape of a simple braid, with Lucas’s and Roberts’s stories serving as individual narrative strands that become more and more tightly plaited. Complicating this simple, at times overly mechanical back-and-forth design is a third player with a smaller strand, a corrupt New York detective, Trupo (Josh Brolin in a knockout performance), who shakes down Lucas and other larcenous types. The baddest bad man in town, a thug’s thug, Trupo wears his power as confidently as the long black leather coat he whips on for battle. He hassles Lucas, who hates him in turn, and openly indulges his contempt for Roberts because the other cop is honest, which means he’s a threat to Trupo and his kind. It’s hard not to fall for these men pumping like pistons across the screen, which is as much part of the movie’s allure as its problem. Mr. Scott doesn’t escape the contradiction that bedevils almost every Hollywood movie about gangsters, which cry shame, shame, as they parade their stars, crank the soul and showcase the foxy ladies, the swank digs and rides. Mr. Washington obviously enjoys sinking into villainy, but he never finds the lower depths. There’s little of the frightening menace the actor brought to “Training Day,” where you see the pleasure his character derives from his sadism. Even when Lucas goes ballistic, beating a man to pulp, the film tosses in a laugh about the proper way to clean a bloodied rug. Seriousness has always been one of Mr. Scott’s strengths as a director, but when his material has skewed too light, too frivolous, the gravity and purpose etched into each one of his meticulous, beautiful images have also helped sink films. He couldn’t make an ironic gesture if he wanted to, or toss off an idea or a shot. Everything counts, even if it shouldn’t. (Such was the case with his and Mr. Crowe’s last collaboration, their 2006 Provençal folly, “A Good Year,” a soufflé made with lead.) Mr. Scott makes the case for his and his new film’s seriousness in its opener, which shows Lucas tossing a match at a man who has been doused with gasoline and then pumping bullets into the burning, screaming figure. This is the match that ignites the story of a criminal overlord who, without mercy or remorse, takes down one human being after another, many of whom, like the addicts he supplied, were as helpless as that burning man. By rights this match should also ignite a tragedy, and you can almost feel Mr. Scott trying to coax the material away from its generic trappings toward something rarefied, something like Francis Ford Coppola’s 1972 definitive American story, “The Godfather.” He comes closest to that goal with the suggestion that the lethal pursuit of the American dream is not restricted to one or two families — the Corleones, say, or the Sopranos — but located in a network of warring tribes that help to obscure the larger war of all against all. The America in this film isn’t a melting or even a boiling pot; it’s a bitter object lesson about the logic of market-driven radical individualism, wherein a self-styled Horatio Alger type, thwarted by racial prejudice and born into poverty in North Carolina, grows up to become a powerful captain of the illegal-drug industry. Lucas pulls himself up by his bootstraps, a gun tucked into his belt, and becomes a folk hero (and a pop culture idol) who doles out free turkeys to the very community he helps enslave with narcotics, fear and despair. He gathers his relatives around to help him, modeling himself after the Mafia families with whom he does business. He builds a gang, but only so it can serve his personal desires. The bottom line of what a Frank Lucas does — to people, to neighborhoods — doesn’t make for entertainment. And so, despite Mr. Scott’s talent for trouble and shadows (the cinematographer Harris Savides bleeds all the bright color from this world), he soon loosens his grip on Lucas. He lingers over the garish surfaces and violence, and the exotic locales where Lucas found a steady supply of pure heroin. He quotes “Super Fly,” fires up Bobby Womack, samples Richard M. Nixon and tosses in a pinch of black power rhetoric to mask the rot. He distracts and entertains until the divide between his seriousness of purpose and the false glamour that wafts around American gangsters, and invariably trivializes their brutality, becomes too wide to breach. Like many moviemakers (and watchers), Mr. Scott loves his bad guy too much. And by turning Lucas into a figure who seduces instead of repels, an object of directorial fetishism and a token of black resistance, however hollow, he encourages us to submit as well. Part of this is structural and economic: blood and nihilism are always better sells than misery and hopelessness. Yet there’s also a historical dimension, because when Lucas strolls down a fast-emptying Harlem street after putting a bullet into another man’s head and the camera pulls back for the long view, you are transported into the realm of myth. Once, another gunman, or the director, might have taken direct aim at Lucas. But the world belongs to gangsters now, not cowboys. “American Gangster” is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). Explicit and very realistic-looking intravenous drug use and bloody, bloody gun violence. AMERICAN GANGSTER