The plot is of the “David beats Goliath” variety, with the store manager (a surprisingly hip looking Anthony LaPaglia) and collection of his employees (Liv Tyler, Ethan Embry, Renee Zellweger, Robin Tunney) rising up to prevent a large music chain from purchasing their independent record store.

Some six years ago, Chuck Klosterman (then of Spin magazine) wrote a column around the release of a DVD that was a collection of R.E.M. videos called Parallel. In addition to his usual insight, Klosterman provided an aside that became the conclusion of the article and also made what would have been a pretty prosaic review of R.E.M.’s early ‘90s music video canon into something of a memorable piece.

Regarding the video for the song “Star 69,” he wrote that it blew his mind that “the idea that there was a period when the *69 automatic callback function of the telephone was so significant that R.E.M. could write a song about it.” He goes on to say how caller ID has forever thwarted the would-be prank phone call artist (which would have made the Jerky Boys sadly irrelevant then) and made the *69 function as consigned to history as the leisure suit or Luke Perry. Its whole lifecycle is encapsulated in a pretty run-of-the-mill 3 minute song.

All of that was meant to help illustrate the point that Empire Records functions the same way for the large record store. iTunes and the digital music revolution, which were a scant 4-5 years off when the film was released, have completely obliterated the “point” of this movie, so much so that I could see a kid born today in 10 years saying, “Wait a minute, you actually had to go to a store to buy your music?” Even today, when was the last time that you walked into a big music store to do anything other than look? In the last two years, both Tower Records (a virtually mainstay of my late high school youth) and Virgin Megastore have completely shuttered their operations.

For someone with a bent for nostalgia, that’s what makes Empire Records a compelling movie. In that sense, it’s as great as Saturday Night Fever (though, in addition to that being the only time that sentence has ever been written, that’s the only way in which they’re similar). It recalls that time in your life when you were sitting around with your friends, talking about what to do that night and after a couple of hours, one of you said, “Fuck, man, let’s just go to (insert store here) and check out the new records.”

The movie itself? It’s all right. There are parts that are an absolute laughable mess. The screaming fight between Liv Tyler and Renee Zellweger, where Liv calls Renee a slut and Renee exposes Liv’s secret amphetamine habit ranks up there with the all time laugh out loud confrontation scenes, like when the redheaded kid screams at Patrick Dempsey about shitting on his house in Can’t Buy Me Love or every scene in Pineapple Express.

For a long time, it was mistakenly classified as a direct-to-video movie, which isn’t true. It had a very limited theatrical run in the Fall of 1995, grossing roughly $275,000 in 2 weeks. But to be fair, “limited” in this case means 87 screens, which is roughly how many the multiplex on the corner has in one place these days. To be fair, a wider release in this instance might not have meant a huge box office score (the movie obviously tested poorly enough to limit its release), but it wouldn’t have hurt.

It’s got a pretty killer soundtrack, as far as movie soundtracks (do they even release movie soundtracks anymore?) go. The Gin Blossoms, the early 1990s most ubiquitous rock band, chip in “’Till I Hear It From You,” a song that reached #9 on the Billboard 200. Outside of them, there’s some pretty solid 1990s talent on here: Cracker, Evan Dando, Better Than Ezra, Toad the Wet Sprocket, The Cranberries.

And seriously, Anthony LaPaglia might be one of the more underrecognized actors of his generation. He’s not DeNiro or anything, but the guy gives a solid performance in everything he does. He’s memorable in So I Married An Axe Murderer and he was one of the few standouts in Steve Martin’s bust Mixed Nuts.

And what else? How about Renee Zellweger at her apex, rocking out to Coyote Shivers’ Sugarhigh in the film’s closing scene? And while Renee’s apex might be Kristen Bell’s valley, it’s worth the price of admission.

Oh, Father, Where Art Thou?

Until she was 11 years old, Liv Tyler thought that her father was Todd Rundgren (and actually went by the name “Liv Rundgren.”) Her mother is former Playboy playmate Bebe Buell, and Buell lived with Todd Rundgren from 1972-78 (including the first year of Liv’s life).

Buell was also married to Coyote Shivers from 1992-99, making him Liv’s stepfather during filming.

You are about to enter the courtroom of Judge Judith Sheindlin. The people are real. The cases are real. The rulings are final. This is her courtroom. This is Judge Judy.

The problem from which Judge Judy (the program) suffers is that everyone who’s either never watched it or only seen a promo for it thinks that it’s entirely about the Springer-like set of plaintiffs and defendants that bring their small claims squabbles out into the public eye.

Sure, to a great degree, the appeal of the program is the endless parade of morons and malcontents that march their way through her courtroom. It’s not entirely clear from under which rock these people crawl, but it is clear that they don’t see the light of day too often. But if you’re looking for morons and malcontents, there’s no shortage of them on TV, no matter what time you’re watching. That’s not the only thing getting people to watch this program.

Presiding over it all is former supervising judge in the Manhattan division of family court Judith “Judy” Sheindlin, a wise-cracking, fast-acting woman whose icy stare can shrivel the testicles of any man and shrink the tits of any woman that dares cross her. Standing beside Judy is her ever faithful bailiff, Petri Hawkins-Byrd (who she calls simply “Byrd), whose main responsibility is swearing people in, fetching their evidence and bringing it to the judge, and playing comic foil to the judge herself. Judy frequently refers to Byrd while asking questions of the participants (“Officer Byrd and I can’t wait to hear how you pulled that one off …”). He shows quiet disdain for just about everyone that enters the courtroom.

While most other daytime hosts are more than happy to have the show be about their guests reveling in their own grand mal shitheadedness, Judy actually exerts control over the people on her show. She has zero tolerance for their idiocy. Make no mistake: Judy’s made her decision before she even sits down in her chair. They’re almost always open and shut cases, whether she’s sympathetic to the person that she’s ruling for or not. She’s read the sworn statements of the people appearing before her, she’s gone through the evidence and she’s entirely familiar with the case. The people themselves are almost an afterthought. They are there entirely for her amusement, which she freely admits, often telling them to knock of their nonsense because "this is [her] playpen."

It’s Judy herself that people tune into see. And she’s entertaining as hell.

She’s the attraction. And that’s what makes it work. If all she was doing was settling a dispute over a broken cell phone and $265 of rent money between two people who probably can’t even count that high, it wouldn’t be anything even a little bit worth watching. Judy is both judge and counselor, doling out both verdicts and advice, whether people ask for it or not. She’s got no problem telling someone that they’re full of it. She’s got no issue telling a mother that her son is a loser, but she’s also got no problem telling young women not to get mixed up with the schmucks to whom they find themselves attracted because they’ll wind up in the same position over and over.

And frankly, the show wouldn't work any other way. Sure, they'd get regular viewers looking to hang in for the occasional train wreck case, maybe watch Byrd break up a fight or something, but that's not what has the show entering its 15th season as the highest rated courtroom show in TV history.

Will the real Judge Judy please stand up?

Judge Judy made a guest appearance on Saturday Night Live, during a sketch spoofing her show (with Cheri Oteri playing Judy). She came on to rule in favor of stripper Lucy Lawless who had been hired to work a children’s birthday party and to deliver her line “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.” Tracy Morgan played the role of Byrd.

A Mysterious Alien Creature (MAC) who has escaped from nefarious NASA agents is befriended by a young boy in a wheelchair. Together, they try to find MAC's family, from whom he has been separated.

Where to begin?

This is a cast of unparalleled semi-famous crappiness: Christine Ebersole (of the 1981-82 cast of SNL and My Girl 2), Jonathan Ward (the middle child from the first fanily on Charles in Charge) and Danny Cooksey (of the Dixie Carter Diff'rent Strokes cast and Salute Your Shorts on Nickelodeon). Cooksey is arguably the most "famous" name on this list, which boggles the mind on so many levels this computer is barely allowing the sentence to be written.

Also, rather than go through the normal capital raising process, Orion Pictures and the producers decided to just go ahead and sell the movie to the highest bidding advertiser. This resulted in some of the most ridiculous product placement you'll ever see. The movie is essentially a long running commercial. They constantly eat Skittles and drink Coca-Cola. Ebersole works at Sears (and some pretty weird hours also. If your boss wants you to work 3pm until close every night, he may not like you too much). The next door neighbor's oldest daughter (coincidentally about the same age as Ward) works at McDonald's, and Ronald McDonald played a large enough part in the movie to garner the 1988 Worst New Star Golden Raspberry award.

Speaking of McDonald's, it's the spot for the best scene in the film: a four and a half minute dance scene (which, oddly, features the only black people in the film), in which you can actually hear the director telling everyone what to do. There are no words for how surreal this spontaneous outburst of dance is. And the worst part is that the kid in the wheelchair can't even dance. The poor bastard has to sit there and watch everyone use their legs.

But here's the absolute cherry on top of the glorious crap sundae, and for those that like to go into a movie without knowing specifics this is a big spoiler alert: Instead of going back to their home planet at the end, ala E.T., they actually clothe themselves (presumably in some fine garb from Sears) and cut to a scene where the whole alien family become U.S. citizens. And with the NASA people looking on, as though they no longer gave a crap that this intelligent alien life form were living on our planet and they didn't want to do any more research. What the fuck? I mean, seriously, what the fuckety fuck fuck?

The movie is awesome in a Mystery Science Theater 3000 way. The plot holes are numerous. The dialogue is ridiculous. The acting is brutal. But the movie is bloody brilliant. It's everything that we love about movies that are so bad they're good.

We Won't Be Back!

There was a planned sequel to Mac and Me, such that the final scene of the movie is a freeze frame, with the words "We'll be back!" superimposed. But the movie got such lousy reviews and did so poorly at the box office, that the sequel was shelved.

I'm With Coco

There was a long running gag involving the movie on Late Night with Conan O'Brien. Whenever Paul Rudd would appear on the show to promote a film and Conan would introduce a clip, they'd cut to a clip of the kid in the wheelchair careening out of control down a hill.

With Sega firmly entrenched as the best game system of the early 1990s, the games began to get pretty awesome. The Madden games began to develop into the juggernaut that they are today. The NBA games got a little more intuitive to play. And then came NHL '94.

It's tough to say who the person was in charge of developing this game over at EA Sports. What isn't tough to say is that this person deserves some kind of medal, maybe a Nobel Prize. The guy sat down and said, "OK, here's what's awesome about the game and here's what sucks. Let's keep all of the awesome things, and get rid of all the crappy things." They took out fighting, which never worked the way it should have (and didn't in future versions on the Sega platform). They left in the ability to spear someone and take them out of the game with a well-timed hit. They allowed you to turn off off-sides. And because there were only three buttons, changing your guy on the ice, passing and one-timing your shots wasn't all that difficult to do. They made a couple of absolutely kickass players, like Jeremy Roenick on the Chicago Blackhawks (who could pretty much score at will by going into the corner and coming across the crease) and Pavel Bure of the Vancouver Canucks (who was easily the fastest player and could kill on breakaways).

There was no better game to stay awake playing all night in college. And it wasn't only exciting to play; it was exciting to watch, which made setting up a tournament all the more fun. Not only that, the game could store your profiles and keep stats, so you could call someone out if they were particularly crappy at it. There was always one dude who just couldn't get the game. He'd try like hell to play it, but he'd get his ass kicked time and time again. The go-to excuse was always that the controller wasn't working and he'd quit, then someone would take over his game and all of the sudden the controller worked fine.

The proof of NHL '94's worthiness was NHL '95, which brought fighting back and tried to make the game more "real." The problem with that is that it became less fun (and more difficult) to play. For whatever reason, EA struck gold with NHL '94 that they just couldn't replicate.

Which brings us to L.A. Story, a movie that made even a hardened New Yorker (a.k.a. me) soften on a city that he once described as "a cesspool of gang violence and untalented actors posing as service staff." L.A. Story (to me) remains his definitive work, a love letter to a city that makes itself so hard to love. Martin makes this movie alternatively profound and ridiculous, touching and hysterical, sprinkling Shakespeare references in with enema jokes. And the opening montage sets the tone for the movie: a strikingly beautiful sequence that captures the mundane act of picking up the morning paper.

More than anything, Martin captures exactly what it's like to live in L.A. It's a constant battle with traffic, finding the unconventional way to get somewhere. It's trying to stay on the cutting edge, while realizing that someone will always beat you to the next best thing. It's conversations about nothing that somehow mean something to everyone but you. And it's getting in your car to drive next door.

There's not a whole lot that's even good about LA, but this movie is one thing great about LA.

He was first introduced to the world as Monroe J. Ficus on the syndicated Too Close For Comfort program that starred Ted Knight as a San Francisco-based cartoonist. Monroe was the goofy next door neighbor, constantly annoying Knight, but otherwise winning the adoration of the rest of the family for his good natured stupidity.

When Hollywood Squares came back to the air in 1986 with John Davidson as the host and Joan Rivers as the center square, who else would producers choose as the resident foppish, effeminate square with a quick wit? Jm J Bullock, of course. Bullock filled the role with Paul Lynde-ian flair. He had the same goofy wardrobe, similar inflection in his voice and the same prepared one-liners that send the audience into an uproar.

These days, Bullock is mostly a forgotten relic of the 1980s, the kind of celebrity that you expect to be performing with Bonnie Franklin and Diana Canova in Branson, MO. IMDb.com doesn't list anything of note in his filmography since playing Willy Tanner's brother in ALF's final season. Since then, he's been relegated to roles that have basically cast him as the gay guy. He's not the greatest actor to grace the small screen, but he's a decent one, better than that .

The bottom line is that he's Paul Lynde for Gen Y. So where's his variety show? Where are his cameos? His talk show appearances? Where's his role as the gay uncle on How I Met Your Mother? Let's get these things in the work for Jm. He probably needs the paycheck.

Seth MacFarlane is a pop culture God. They guy could go toe to toe with anyone. He's obviously making fun of Wings as completely generic and inoffensive; the kind of stuff watched by people who don't really think too much about what it is they want to watch (which makes it all the more odd that Peter Griffin had never heard of it). Here's the thing: that's selling the show a bit short.

Is it kind of generic drek? Yeah, probably. But to be totally fair, it ran for 8 seasons, and had a lengthy run in syndication. As far as sitcoms go, it ain't half bad. There are countless shows that are far less watchable than Wings.

Tim Daly and Steven Weber played brothers that ran a Nantucket-based airline. Thomas Haden Church has been reborn in recent years, thanks to Sideways, but his initial birth was as Lowell, dimwitted handyman at the Nantucket airport. And his good-natured idiocy came off charming. Among the other characters at the airport were Fay, the ditzy ticket agent; Roy, the ornery, overweight competitor of Joe and Brian; Helen, the lunch counter girl; and Antonio Scarpacci, the immigrant cabbie played by inimitable character actor Tony Shaloub. Lots of stereotypical characters here (they should have just broke down all the barriers and had a 1940s mobster character holding a violin case and an Asian guy with a triangle hat and buck teeth), but in the context of the show, it didn't insult the intelligence of its audience too much.

So, Seth MacFarlane, if you're reading this: I'm just going to go ahead and assume that this is one of those schoolyard things where you make fun of the things you like the most. This way, you and I won't have a problem.

The movie features outstanding performances from Ed Norton, Barry Pepper and Philip Seymour Hoffman. Norton gives a nuanced performance as a drug dealer trying to tie up his loose ends and find the guy who ratted him out before being sent upstate on a possession rap. Even Rosario Dawson, who probably couldn't act excited during the best sex of her life, gives the performance of her career. The film is shockingly raw and startlingly earnest at the same time, while never straying from its purpose. What's more, the movie is shot against the backdrop of post-9/11 New York, making the location as much of a character as the people. (UR: -22.5)

Here's why: she'll literally never say no to any role you offer her. Go ahead and turn on your TV and flip around a while. It's a virtual lock that Morgan Fairchild will pop up at some point. She's Janeane Garofalo without the psychotic streak and the chip on her shoulder. But unlike Garofalo, she's perfectly content with her role on the acting food chain. Need a hot mom? Call Morgan Fairchild. Need a weepy turned revenge-bent wife? Call Morgan Fairchild. Need someone to play Morgan Fairchild? Call Morgan Fairchild.

But despite her lack of selectiveness, she's a consistent performer. She's got no problem making fun of herself as a Lifetime movie appearing B-rate actress (as she does in almost every role she appears in as herself), but she's also got no problem actually appearing in a B-rate Lifetime movie. And Hollywood needs people to fill these roles, and fill them with gusto. There are only so many Brad Pitts and once you run out of them, where do you go? Here's where: Morgan Fairchild. (UR: 16.5)

Steely Dan are Donald Fagen and Walter Becker.

Why are they underrated?

When I was in high school, I was extremely fortunate to have teachers that gave a crap. My favorite of those teachers was Dr. Coleman, who was my English teacher in both the 11th and 12th grade. He paused at inappropriate times while reading poetry or Shakespeare and he was married to one of the drama teachers. He was always very candid about things that were going on in his life. He pushed us to expand the boundaries of our experience, whether it was in the writing that we did or music that we listened to, or going to check out a play or an exhibit in a museum. He never wrote off the things that we were interested in. He called himself a huge Harvey Keitel fan and didn't laugh at the idea of us playing Sonic Youth records in his class. In a not very interesting coincidence, he and I shared a birthday. In a horrible circumstance, he died of a massive heart attack at the age of 48. He helped shape the kind of person and writer that I am today.

The world that he inhabited seemed like a world that was stuck in the 1970s. He seemed bookish in a Woody Allen way and earthy in a John Denver way. And dear god, did he love Steely Dan.

Steely Dan was indicative of everything that FM radio was in its early day (edgy and experimental) and they represent the early days of FM radio: the wild west when it was anything goes on the airwaves because there weren't as many listeners to offend/turn off, as opposed to today's FM radio which is a veritable buffet of crap no matter where you land on the dial. And it's no coincidence that Steely Dan wrote the theme song for the movie FM, about disc jockeys that hijack a radio station when the executives make it clear that they favor advertising revenue over music. They didn't just play on FM radio; they were FM radio.

Their music blends funk, jazz, rock and pop in daring and innovative ways, most notably on 1978's Aja, which shot to the top 5 and was certified platinum within three weeks of its release. And though their music sounds like it's the 1970s incarnate, it's no worse for the wear. It's still incredibly listenable, and since so many people are wearing aviator sunglasses these days (and looking ridiculous in them), it doesn't take much to feel like you're actually in the 1970s. Pop in some Steely Dan, throw on your Toughskins, and rock the fuck out.

Rolling Stone called them "the perfect musical antiheroes for the Seventies." This is an accurate characterization. The guys churned out great music, because they liked to make music. Their fame was just a sidenote.

This post is for those not too bright 18 year olds.

When SNL came on the air, Chevy emerged as the star of what became an ensemble cast after he left. And while the show probably benefited from his departure long term, his presence at the beginning of the show legitimized it. 90% of the memorable scenes from the first season came from Chevy: he was the Weekend Update anchor, had the Gerald Ford impersonation, and he fell down at the beginning of every episode. Let's also not forget the classic word association exchange with Richard Pryor. "Dead honky."

And when he started making movies? Foul Play, Modern Problems, Vacation, Fletch, European Vacation, Spies Like Us, Three Amigos, Funny Farm and Christmas Vacation. That's what the Chevy Chase box set would look like. Not only that, he was supposed to be Otter in Animal House, which means that he could have starred in three of the top ten comedies of all time.

I've intentionally left Caddyshack II and Fletch Lives off of this list, because they're sequels that should never have been made and I murdered two people after watching them. Then, after 1991's Memoirs of an Invisible Man (which was essentially a less funny version of Modern Problems), it was all downhill. He bottomed out as a weatherman in 2000's Snow Day, and everything after that is completely unrecognizable, save a cameo or guest spot here and there.

Chevy Chase's downfall, if anything, was hastened by his personality. By all accounts, he's the biggest dick this side of Harry Reams. And if you're going to take a chance on a guy that's made a couple of bad movies and is starting to lose some of his box office draw, wouldn't you rather take that chance on a guy that won't piss of these entire crew, ream the PAs for making his coffee incorrectly, and tell the craft service woman to go fuck herself. That's where Chevy found himself after the 1994 smash hit Cops and Robbersons.

You get the sense that he didn't want to do these movies; he just didn't have any more options.

The genius of this book lies in how well Beaumont captures every single mouth-breathing idiot with whom you work. Better still, it all unfolds through a series of e-mails exchanged between the employees of a major advertising agency in the UK, which means there's lots of the letter "u" and the word "bloody." Also, there's a ton in here about Filipino transsexuals (if you're into that sort of thing).

Both Daniels and Williams are brilliant in their roles and Monty Python alum Terry Gilliam's direction is perfect. Gilliam's a highly underrated director (Brazil being one of the most underrecognized films of the 1980s). This film is his coup-de-grace: a wickedly funny, heartbreakingly sad and breathtakingly beautiful film. If there's a more perfectly shot scene than the Grand Central Station/rush hour scene, it hasn't been made yet. And watching a hairy Robin Williams dance naked in Central Park makes even your worst nightmare palatable.

With all that, its $41MM in box office gross equals the 30th highest grossing film of the year. Films that finished ahead of this one: The Addams Family, The Naked Gun 2 1/2, and Star Trek VI. UR: -23