Dude, Who Needs a Teddy Bear When You've Got Hurley?

The other day, I finally caved and bought myself the McFarlane Toys talking figure of Hurley, completing my threesome of favorite characters from LOST's first season. Of course, the introduction of Desmond - particularly as a regular in season three - turned my trio into a quartet, but I doubt they'll be casting him in plastic any time soon, what with so many other characters in line ahead of him. I'm crossing my fingers that they'll get around to it eventually. Or just do the sound chip thing, only stick it in something smaller than that black box that comes with the figures, something that I could string on a necklace so I could listen to those rugged Scottish tones whenever I want. Too bad two of the three sound clips are bound to be dreadfully depressing, along the lines of "You've killed us all!" and "You're gonna die, Charlie!" At least I can count on "See you in another life, brother..."

But to Hurley, who won my heart quickly and has never given me cause to shake my fist at him in frustration, as my beloved Charlie, Locke and Desmond have. Hurley is as steady and dependable as they come. He may be cursed, doomed to stand in the eye of the hurricane while atrocities happen to most of the people he cares about, but that doesn't stop him from being a comforting presence. I occasionally compare him to Sam Gamgee, my all-time favorite literary hero, but mostly to Hagrid, the enormous, bumbling, expansively compassionate Hogwarts gamekeeper.

Like Hagrid, he possesses a rustic decency that makes him generally well-liked. He encourages everyone to treat each other with respect, and while he's eager to do as much as he can to be helpful, he usually stands in awe of Jack, who may not be much like Dumbledore but who is the closest thing this group of castaways has to a leader. He's emotional, more deeply affected by events on the island than most, in part because he goes to lengths to get to know everyone. He's usually the one who eulogizes at the all-too-frequent makeshift funerals, and while his words may not be very eloquent, they spring from a profound sense of sympathy. I can just imagine Hagrid blowing a great big handkerchief whenever Hurley lays a castaway to rest. He even uses the word "duffer", which is one of those words I associate almost exclusively with Hagrid.

So yeah, I love Hurley. I love his pacifism, his mellow "dude"-riddled proclamations, his consideration, his common sense, his fantastic sense of humor. He's a great big teddy bear with a habit of squeezing the stuffing out of people. If I were on that island, he could give me as many bear hugs as he wanted. Hurley is one groovy guy.

And so is mini-Hurley, though preserved in plastic, he's not nearly so huggable. The six-inch replica captures one of his shining season one moments, when the discovery of some golf clubs inspires him to build a course and give the castaways a way to relieve all their mounting tension. "I've stayed up all night trying to figure out how to make people feel safe," Jack complains. "Hurley builds a golf course, suddenly everyone feels safe." In the grand scheme of things, it's a small contribution, but for this one day, everyone can forget about all those pesky problems plaguing them.

The figure includes a cardboard backdrop showing the verdant hills where Hurley has placed his golf course. He's mounted on a grassy expanse consisting of green and brown tones, with little patches of grass and earth turned up all around him. On his feet are black sneakers, which are reluctant to fit into the allotted holes. His pants are black and have several pockets, though none of them are actually capable of accommodating any small objects. His green shirt flaps in the same breeze that causes his makeshift flag - a red coconut-print Hawaiian shirt in a former life - to fly proudly atop its bamboo pole, which Hurley clasps with one hand. Though the flagpole rests in a small hole, it doesn't seem that it would have much chance of standing if Hurley weren't there to help prop it up.

Hurley's other hand is on his hip, giving him an air of pride, while his face wears an expression of satisfaction. His head, marked by sideburns, the faint beginnings of a beard and shoulder-length hair pulled back with a black hair tie, is one of the only parts of him with any articulation, and even that's not much, since he is only able to shake his head slightly. His waist and right elbow are also articulated, though I didn't notice that at first. The craftsmanship isn't as detailed or the likeness as remarkable as with Charlie and Locke, but it's still a very nice figure. What's not so nice is the assembly required in order to incorporate the backdrop and the voice box into the figure stand. You'd think after two of these figures, we could figure out how to put them together, but it's rather complicated, especially without any sort of instructions. I'm afraid there was a bit of angry muttering flowing through our kitchen before the assembly was complete, and that's most inappropriate considering Hurley's pacifying nature. Shame on those LOST folks for refusing to make anything simple...

As with the other figures, Hurley speaks three lines from the series, or rather the black box attached to him does when the button on it is pressed. For some reason, the volume seems turned up just a tad higher on Hurley than on Charlie and Locke, but that might not be an across-the-board thing. He's just a little louder than he needs to be, at least on the first two: "Welcome to the first... and, hopefully, last... Island Open!" (very appropriate, given the moment they decided to capture with this figure) and the requisite "dude"- and food-involved "Dude, I'm starving... I'm nowhere near that hungry." The extra volume makes more sense on his final proclamation, the panicked season-finale "Stop! Wait! The number are bad!!" And speaking of numbers, my figure came with two full-size replicas of his cursed lottery ticket, bearing the ominous numbers "4 8 15 16 23 42". I think I was only supposed to get one, but I'm not complaining.

For $17, I nabbed myself the compassionate, hilarious, unlucky island teddy bear, and I find myself wishing more than ever that I could get my hands on a magical box like the one in The Indian in the Cupboard capable of bringing plastic figurines to life. Hurley and I could have some very nice chats together... Here's hoping Hurley remains a voice of reason in the often chaotic workings of the island. Three cheers for Hugo Reyes!

Barrymore's Josie Has Never Been Kissed, But She's Got Two Contenders For the Job

Surfing through the channels recently, my brother and I happened upon a movie that had just started. "Oh," Nathan said, "This must be Never Been Kissed." And so it was. So I asked him whether it was a good movie. "Oh, it's okay, I guess," he said. "But it has Drew Barrymore in it." This withering critique was not enough to dissuade me, particularly since I loved Music and Lyrics, her latest movie. And Nathan, for all his protests, didn't mind watching it again with me.

Never Been Kissed is a film with an improbable premise. A young journalist, Josie Geller (Barrymore), gets the first big assignment of her career, which involves posing as a high school student. She's young and girlish enough that this isn't too much of a stretch, though it seems like she would have had a little more trouble with this ruse, and certainly her brother Robert (David Arquette), lacking her professional resources, shouldn't have been able to enroll on a whim so he could look out for his sister. Moreover, she goes to the school without a very clear idea of what her article is supposed to be about, and weeks later, she still doesn't really know; presumably she's only still there because her high school experience has turned into the soap opera that's keeping all her officemates entertained. But what exactly is she doing during this stretch of time for the newspaper? All of her time appears to be occupied with this assignment, but what paper would invest all those resources into such a non-story, especially when at the end of it her article is shorter than this review?

So yeah, it's not the most logical plot in the world. Nor the most original, since it treads all the same territory as typical high school films. I can't condemn it for its glaring similarities to Mean Girls, however, since this movie came out first; evidently that film borrowed from this considerably. While sweet-natured Josie never quite turns to the dark side - befriending members of the top high school clique but not becoming utterly insufferable in the process - the story follows a similar arc. She initially feels awkward and is befriended by math geek Aldys Martin (Leelee Sobieski). She falls for Guy Perkins (Jeremy Jordan), a popular, hunky fellow who isn't as nice as the love interest in Mean Girls. She has a party at her house. She alienates her nerdy friend by getting caught up in the activities of the popular girls, albeit on orders from her boss, Augustus Strauss (John C. Reilly). She's declared Prom queen and makes a preachy speech about how people have to start being nicer to each other. Typical stuff.

But it's a cute movie. Barrymore is winning, playing up the charm as a girl who never fit in when she was in high school and is trying to get it right this time around. While she swoons for Guy, her real connection is with English teacher Sam Coulson (Michael Vartan). Their pairing would be perfectly appropriate under other circumstances, but he believes that she is only 17, so he's deeply uncomfortable with the intense attraction he feels to this mature, insightful student. At one point he even hops on the ferris wheel with her at the fair, which is very romantic, though it sets off alarms. It's the nature of this movie that in context, both of Josie's romantic interests are unsuitable, yet she pursues both anyway Her brother, meanwhile, not only finds a romantic entanglement of his own but joins the baseball team and dreams of being snatched up by a college talent scout.

In the end, pretty much everyone ends up with whatever they deserve, and we're hardly surprised about it. Josie finally blossoms into a confident young woman, having stepped out of the shadow of her traumatic high school memories, most notably being egged by her Prom date while waiting on her front porch in a hideous dress that looks like it was made of aluminum foil. There's plenty of humor in the movie, most of it pretty benign, and the blooming relationship between her and her teacher is very sweet, especially since he never completely crosses the line into an inappropriate teacher-student relationship while he believes Josie is a teenager. It's not the best high school movie out there, but it's a pretty entertaining way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon.

A Flippin' Sweet Movie That Sounds Like It's Been Picked Over By TBS

Back in the fall of 2004, my family took in an exchange student from Germany. Shortly into her stay, she and my brother went to see Napoleon Dynamite with a friend and invited me along. I accepted the invitation, eager for any opportunity for a bonding experience. So we got to the theater, watched the movie and waited outside for about an hour for my parents. We talked about all sorts of random shmoo, but we didn't say a word about the movie. None of us really knew what to say.

Napoleon Dynamite is an oddity. It's a triumph of independent film-making, having quickly achieved cult status as more and more teens and young adults cracked up over the antics of its strange characters and repeated their catch-phrases incessantly. Like so many other films before, it, Napoleon Dynamite is about an unpopular high school student who manages to make good. In this case, that student is beyond awkward. Hovering over the heads of his classmates, Napoleon (Jon Heder) glares out from behind thick glasses and under a mop of reddish curls, gritting his enormous teeth and spitting out vitriolic words at whoever crosses him. Almost every line is uttered with such agitated exaggeration that it seems he should be swearing up a storm. It's refreshing but jarring to note the lack of profanity; whenever he talks, I can't help but feel as though I'm watching a poorly dubbed movie on TBS. But then that is part of the movie's humor.

His manner of speaking is just so bizarre, as is everything else about him. He explodes periodically with "GOSH!". He emphasizes most statements with "pretty much", "freakin'" or "flippin'". He draws hideous hybrid creatures and practices "sweet" dance moves to corny '80s videos. He loves tater tots so much he stuffs them in a zippered pants pocket for later noshing. He bellows belligerently at his llama, builds a time machine and, when asked to regale the class with a current event, launches into a fanciful account involving explosives, the Loch Ness Monster and wizards.

Also strange is Pedro Sanchez (Efren Ramirez), the glassy-eyed new student whom Napoleon befriends after offering to show him the ropes at school. Pedro seems to spend his life in a daze, always looking bored, disinterested and utterly unengaged in the world around him. It's a surprise, then, when he decides to run for class president, but it sets us up for the nerds' inevitable shining moment. Deb (Tina Majorino, the only cast member I recognized) is a friend of both boys, though she associates more closely with Napoleon. She's very quiet and shy, but she seems to like Napoleon, and he has no objection to her, even wooing her with the ever-so-romantic observation that she's not fat, so she doesn't need to drink one percent milk.

And then there's his brother Kip (Aaron Ruell), a lisping wisp of a geek with thick glasses and a peach-fuzz mustache who spends virtually every minute of the day in front of the computer, often chatting with his dream girl, who turns out to be the robust, hip, polar opposite LaFawnduh Lucas (Shondrella Avery), who reminded me of Charlene in Bringing Down the House. There's also Uncle Rico (Jon Gries), a slimy shyster who Napoleon loathes, and Grandma (Sandy Martin), who's not in the movie much once she takes a nasty tumble while ATV-ing on some sand dunes.

They're all as quirky as can be, but Napoleon is the one commanding the audience's attention. We watch him in rapt fascination, wondering whether anyone could really be this awkward. He's so off-kilter, and there's such an aggressive manner about him, it's rather hard to fall in love with him. He's not as likable as Sam, Neil and Bill from Freaks and Geeks, Luke from Joan of Arcadia, Damian from Mean Girls, Matt from 13 Going on 30... But by the end of the movie, we can't help but like him a bit, despite the fact that he usually seems ready to bite someone's head off. And if nothing else, he provides plenty of amusing quotes to randomly incorporate into everyday conversation. I don't know if I'd quite call him "dynamite," but this movie boasts more sizzle than fizzle.

A Cataclysmic Crash and Compelling Characters Draw Viewers Into LOST

September 22, 2004 was an important day for my parents, as it marked their 25th wedding anniversary. It was also a significant date for America, since it signaled the beginning of a cultural phenomenon, whispered about on the air waves for weeks: LOST. This first episode had to deliver all the drama and mystery promised by those haunting advertisements. It had to make viewers believe that 40 or so people could survive a plane wreck on an island thousands of miles from the nearest continent and that even with today's modern technology, they would not be quickly found. It had to make us care about this diverse group of individuals even though we were likely to go into over-load with so many major characters to keep track of. It had to be something really special. It was.

It begins with the opening of an eye. A man is lying in the jungle. He pulls himself to his feet and struggles toward the beach, catching a glimpse of a yellow lab along the way. The scene awaiting him at the shore is chaotic, with plane wreckage strewn about and survivors screaming. He springs into action, rousing those in the most immediate danger, healing wounds wherever possible, for he is a doctor and, whether he intended it or not, a leader. His name is Jack Shephard (Matthew Fox), and this is his story.

But it's also the story of Charlie Pace (Dom Monaghan), a well-intentioned but mostly incompetent rock star whose primary preoccupation is initially how to get his hands on the heroin he was snorting in the plane's bathroom. It's the story of Claire Littleton (Emilie de Ravin), an innocent and very pregnant Aussie. It's the story of Hurley Reyes (Jorge Garcia), a squeamish, gentle giant whose easy-going nature allows him to make friends quickly. It's the story of Kate Austen (Evangeline Lilly), a kind-hearted renegade who doesn't want her fellow survivors to find out what she was doing on that plane, and Sawyer Ford (Josh Holloway), whose antagonism and opportunism cast him in an unfavorable light.

It's the story of Sayid Jarrah (Naveen Andrews), once a communications officer for the Iraqi Republican Guard and now their best hope of finding a way off the island, and John Locke (Terry O'Quinn), a mysterious sage who may be their best hope of surviving until that happens. It's the story of Rose (L. Scott Caldwell), a serene woman whose husband was in the tail section of the plane when it crashed.

It's the story of Sun (Yunjin Kim) and Jin Kwon (Daniel Dae Kim), a Korean couple who keep themselves set apart from the rest, from whom they are already separated by a language barrier, of Boone Carlyle (Ian Somerhalder) and Shannon Rutherford (Maggie Grace), siblings who snipe at one another constantly and seem ill-equipped to prove themselves useful, and of Michael Dawson (Harold Perrineau) and his estranged young son Walt Lloyd (Malcolm David Kelley). It's even the story of Walt's dog Vincent (Madison), whose disappearance further strains Michael's relationship with his son.

Yes, that's a lot of stories to keep track of, but we meet the characters gradually enough that we're not completely overwhelmed. Because most of these people have never met before, there are plenty of introductions to be made, and we catch glimpses of each character's personality that will be built upon later. There are wonderfully revealing little moments in the midst of the high-octane disaster and the ensuing attempts to settle in safely until they can find a way of contacting civilization, not to mention in the flashbacks to the fateful plane ride itself. We know, as these dazed individuals do not, that they're in it for the long haul and are going to have to work together if they're going to make it. And as if being stranded in the middle of the ocean weren't bad enough, this island boasts several mysteries right here in the pilot: Man-eating monster! Polar bear! Distress call running on a loop for 16 years! Just what kind of place is this, anyway?

LOST presented viewers with an opening chapter so epic and a cast of characters so engaging, it's no wonder legions of fans were born. Now that the third season is wrapping up, the events surrounding the initial crash seem so simple. No Others, no hatch, no evil numbers to worry about... Just a bunch of world-weary folks emerging shakily from a traumatic event, propping each other up and managing to survive until the next set of challenges arises. Truly television at its best.

Robin Williams Brings Sage Serenity to Madcap Museum Comedy

When we were very young, my family went to a museum and were greeted inside by a massive Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was only a model, of course, but that didn't stop my brother from being so freaked out that he ran screaming from the building. I can only imagine what his reaction would have been had he found himself face to face with the suddenly animated T-Rex in Night at the Museum.

I first saw previews for this Ben Stiller blockbuster back in June, and while it wasn't at the top of my must-see list, I was still pretty intrigued. A-list cast, PG rating, havoc in a museum... What's not to love? But I didn't catch the movie until it played on my family's return flight from California last month. They weren't the most ideal viewing conditions, squinting into the small screen with a cloudy head brought on by motion sickness medication, but I focused as best I could and managed to get the gist of it pretty well.

Larry Daley is the typical Stiller schmuck. His career history is shoddy at best, to the point that his own son, Nick (Jake Cherry), who lives primarily with his mother, looks down on him, so when he manages to land a job as a night watchman at the Museum of Natural History, he keeps it despite the very strange occurrences that plague him his first night on the job, and of which the mysterious trio who hired him (Dick Van Dyke, Mickey Rooney, Bill Cobbs) gave him little warning.

The trouble? Everything in the museum comes to life at night. The T-Rex bounds down the hallways, wanting to play catch. Teddy Roosevelt (Robin Williams) distributes sage advice and makes eyes at Sacajawea (Mizuo Peck). Ornery cowboy Jedediah (Owen Wilson) and ferocious Attila the Hun (Patrick Gallagher) provide numerous headaches, and an ill-tempered monkey launches himself upon Larry whenever he has the chance. How is this happening? Is there a way to make it stop? Is it worth risking life and limb for a measly ten bucks an hour?

It isn't long before we discover the esteemed elder statesmen have a trick or two up their sleeves, but it's long enough that Larry has formed an attachment to some of his unconventional charges and is concerned enough about their welfare to launch an offensive against the threesome's nefarious plans, which means several overloaded action sequences packed with special effects and more jokes involving the bodily functions of monkeys than should be allowed in one movie.

It's a feast for the eyes, albeit a very chaotic one, as characters from dioramas spanning the centuries clash or cooperate with one another. There's little to cause great offense, aside from the aforementioned potty humor, which one comes to expect from Stiller but which is toned down considerably here. He's a likable guy - much more likable, incidentally, than his sanctimonious son - and though the love interest angle takes a major backseat to the rest of the action, Rebecca (Carla Gugino), the apple of his eye, seems like a decent potential match.

The cast stand-outs, however, are the devious, hilarious trio played by Van Dyke, Rooney and Cobbs - of whom the former two are among my favorite actors, though I haven't seen much of either of them lately - and Williams in a surprisingly serene role. He's the voice of reason in all the madness that is the museum, without whom Larry (whom he insists on calling "Lawrence") would be hopelessly lost. And yet he's only emulating the real Teddy, so toward the end we see this strong mentorly figure steeped in vulnerability, and it's really quite touching.

Williams really is the factor that pushes this movie beyond pure silliness; that sobering touch improves the film a great deal. Night at the Museum is still a puffy piece of entertainment, and there's nothing wrong with that, but thanks to a little help from an esteemed former president, it's just a little bit more.