Earlier this week we got our first glimpse of Andrew Garfield as Spider-Man. Now today running throughout the various pipes and tubings of the internet are excerpts from The Los Angeles Times‘ interview with him. Taken from The Envelope, the awards blog for the Times, Garfield opens up about the first two weeks of filming the new Spider-Man flick.

Hit the jump for excerpts, and an insight into the new Peter Parker. Hint: he seems less doughy and dorky than Tobey McGuire. I like.

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French magazine L’Ecran Fantastique features an interview with Captain America production designer Rick Heinrichs. It must have been the allure of France’s elegance, philosophy (what up, Sartre, Descartes, Camus, and others!) and gorgeous women, ’cause Heinrichs spilled a considerable amount of details pertaining to the upcoming flick. There’s some spoilers afoot, though I wouldn’t call any of them cataclysmic or shocking. Here’s what the production designer had to say, if you’re interested. But I warned you.

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There’s no denying the fact that the holidays are over. It’s now officially time to clear the house of any reminders of merriment. Toss that tree out the window, decorations. Mop the floors clean of all the champagne and puke. Sober up, shave, and get back to work.

Shit. I hate this time of year.

Well, since we’re all getting back into the arduous grind that destroys souls and smears smiles, we might as well celebrate those wonderful bits of reprieve. This is the Monday Morning Commute and it’s the venue for sharing those activities we hope will keep us from going postal in the upcoming week. First I tell you what’s on the horizon for me, then you hit up the comments section and tell me what you’ll be doing.

Got it? Sick. Let’s do this.

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Watching the Thor trailer today prior to The Fighter got my balls tingling a bit more for the flick. Imma level with you: I would arm wrestle my girlfriend for a chance at Chris Hemsworth. And I’d fight dirty. Dropping elbows, spin-kicks. Eye gouges. A true hardcore arm wrestling match.

Well, when I got home, I found out that Hawkeye is totally making a cameo in Thor. Word? According to Slashfilm, “The Wrap says that Jeremy Renner will appear in Thor as Hawkeye. In some ways this isn’t new, because Jeremy Renner himself mentioned last year that he expected Hawkeye to show up in Thor.”

Well then. I don’t really know how Hawkeye fits into the Thor movie, but I’m not sure Marvel gives a fuck. They’ve been shoehorning the various Marvel characters into other titles since what, the original Iron Man? Yo Marvel. We get it. It’s an interconnected universe. Seriously. We’re nodding our head. Because we get it.

With their take on True Grit, Joel and Ethan Coen didn’t remake the 1969 John Wayne film of the same name. And they didn’t “update” the film’s 1968 source material by writer Charles Portis. What they’ve done is make the best damn western since 1992’s Unforgiven. But the Coen’s masterpiece isn’t filled with brooding and extraneous landscape shots. In true Coen fashion, the two hours are stocked with dark humor, bursts of violence, Roger Deakins‘ masterful cinematography, and characters so well-crafted that no time gets wasted on unnecessary background stories. In one of the great surprises of the year, one of these characters is played by 14-year-old newcomer Hailee Steinfeld.

Young Hailee effortlessly steals the show from acclaimed veterans Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, and Josh Brolin. She plays Mattie Ross, a girl whose father is shot dead by drifter Tom Chaney (Brolin). Because Chaney flees into Indian territory, the local authorities will not pursue. Mattie hires Deputy U.S. Marshall Rooster Cogburn (Bridges), a man with a merciless reputation – a man with “true grit.” Texas Ranger La Boeuf (Damon) is also on Chaney’s trail, for a murder he committed months previous in TX. And the great adventure begins.

Bridges plays Cogburn hardboiled as hell, without the character devolving into a goofy, tough-guy brooder. He’s filled with interesting contradictions: gruff marshal with the heart of gold, drunk mess who’s a competent lawman, constant heckler with a sensitive spine. All of this makes up another classic, quotable character for Bridges. Damon’s La Boeuf is the all-American Texas Ranger swollen with pride. His boasting makes him sound foolish, but he’s got the gunslingin’ chops to back up all the touting. Out of the plethora of colorful characters the Coen’s have penned over the years, True Grit‘s cast makes up some of the best. They all deliver dated dialogue in an obsolete, contraction-less language that comes off Shakespearean at times. I left the theater wishing people still talked that way.

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The culturalpocalypse is coming. Have you heard of the Madden Curse? If you’re one of the three people who hasn’t, it goes like this. If you’re put on the cover of Madden – the preferred video game of millions and millions of people – you’re fucked. Every single person who adorns the cover generally suffers malaise and awfulness that season. It’s become such a part of my generation’s collective conscious that the inevitable has happened:

EA is looking to exploit it.

In the form of a movie.

The project is being spearheaded by EA Entertainment VP Pat O’Brien, and the storyline seems simply riveting. This wonderful high-concept certain-abortion would “follow a former Madden video game champion who is forced out of retirement just as he finds himself on the corner of the game’s cover.” Whatever will he do then! It’s the sort of insane scenario that Max Barry riffs on in his novel Syrup, which if you haven’t checked it, you should. Shameless whoring of a favorite book of mine. Get some.

The culturalpocalypse? It’s sort of fun.

Completely sensationalist title! Ha! I got you! And I just stole your cookie, what the fuck are you going to do? But no seriously. Apparently Emma Stone was on Jay Leno last night, and she dropped the claim that she’s going to be around for a few web-slinging flicks. When Jay asked how long she’ll be keeping her blond hair, she responded “There’s a few Spidermen, so I may have to keep it for a couple of years.”

Wut!

Every Spider-Man dude knows that Gwen bites the fucking bullet hard. It’s one of the multitude of reasons that Parker is a whiny bitch. But! Could they be changing something? Is Gwen going to live? Sure, her surviving one film doesn’t mean she isn’t going to die eventually. However, let’s dare to dream. I’d be very excited if they decided to keep Gwen as Parker’s main squeeze.

Not only have we done the whole courting of Mary Jane, but I’m going to hit you guys with something: I fucking hate Mary Jane. Yeah, I know she symbolizes the impossibility that the average nerd can’t attain. What is more of an accomplishment than the dweeb acquiring the supermodel who gets him?

Not much.

But I’ve always preferred Stacy to MJ, and if this means she’ll be keeping a pulse for the foreseeable future, then good.

[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

The car stopped just long enough for Daryl to explode out of its passenger door. As eager as he was to get into school with enough time to return 8-Bit’s copy of The Dark Knight Falls, Daryl’s mother was twice as eager to see Jane Pauley and Bryant Gumbel interview whoever. And so the Volvo screeched, peeling out just as Mrs. Millar’s foot told it to.

This provided the man in the gray trench coat the voyeuristic advantage that had eluded him the previous morning. The man got an unencumbered look at the accelerating teen. And since Daryl had no clue that he was being watched, the man in the trench coat afforded himself the luxury of peeking over the top of the sunglasses that barely rested on the tip of his nose. “Yes,” he muttered to himself in near-disbelief, “this is exactly right. It’s so surreal. No, no, that’s not it. Just real.”

From the trench coat a ratty spiral bound journal was removed by a slightly trembling hand. The spy, now seemingly aware that others may question his lurking, scribbled his notes quickly. Returning the journal to the safety of his oversized coat, he snuck behind the bushes and out of the scene.

At the same time, 8-Bit was admiring the graffiti and clever bits of vandalism adorning the inside of his locker.

Where’s the beef?
Charlotte gives good head
Led Zep rokks!

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Before he became the junior welterweight champion, Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg) had to fight his magnificently dysfunctional family. His mother and manager, Alice (Melissa Leo), seemed to only book him mismatched fights that led to an ass whooping. Dicky (Christian Bale), his half-brother and trainer, is a motor-mouthed crackhead who used to be the “pride of Lowell, MA.” Once upon a time he went toe-to-toe with Sugar Ray Leonard and managed to knock him down. Micky also has six sisters that echo his mother from the sidelines like an ugly and unwelcome Greek chorus. This is his family. When outside forces tell Micky that his family is holding him back and retarding his dreams, Micky’s only reply is “It’s my family!”

His attitude begins to change when he falls for a potty-mouthed barmaid named Charlene (Amy Adams) who suggests finding a new trainer; someone who isn’t high 24/7 and can actually spar. After about an hour of family infighting, actual training, and exceptional Boston accents, Micky gets his title shot. And the crowd rejoiced.

It’s the tried and true formula of an underdog boxing movie: the fighter has to overcome something out of the ring before he can dominate within it. David O. Russell‘s The Fighter, based on Ward’s true story, really never strays from this worn path, although there’s a few factors that keep it from feeling too played out. The acting is terrific across the board, except for Bale who is downright amazing. And the fights are shot like an actual televised event — ESPN style. They even used that specific film stock for the bouts.

I love Wahlberg and he’s great as Micky, but he takes a backseat to the other actors in The Fighter. Not because he puts in a sub-par performance, I just think that Micky was that kind of dude. He would stay quiet and do his best to shrug off his shitty family. Melissa Leo (Frozen River) turn out an intense performance as the territorial mother who doesn’t want some “slutty, MTV girl” moving in on her son. As said slut, Amy Adams busts out of the image I’ve had of her since Enchanted. She plays a hardboiled Boston chick with ease. But Bale. Whoa. He’s a chameleon once again and delivers the most moving junkie performance since Bubbles. He also serves as the main source of comic relief. A-yuk.

In the end, the awesome performances don’t save The Fighter from being a mediocre boxing movie with not that much going on. Wait for it on Netflix.

Bonus: Enjoy the “Not You” viral video above!

This review originally appeared on the Mishka Bloglin. Patrick reviews movies on there under the nom de plume Oh Mars.

From left to right: Ron Howard, Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, Brian De Palma, George Lucas, Robert Zemeckis, and Coppola

Yesterday was Spielberg’s 64th birthday and the HollywoodReporter posted this photo from George Lucas’ 50th birthday party. Makes sense.

I love how everyone is dressed up except for De Palma. He totally photobombed them. It’s like he doesn’t really like Lucas but heard there was going to be free booze. What’s so funny, Ron Howard?! Sweet tie, Lucas. Coppola’s such a lush.