omouallem

Hi, I'm the filmmaker. The reason I'm leaving this 10/10 review is because it's the only way for me to address the other reviews about the sound mix (and obviously I'm not giving my movie anything less than a 10).

So, unfortunately subscribers of Paramount+ channel via Prime/AppleTV have to suffer through a faulty audio mix causing the music to overpower the dialogue. We've tried repeatedly and with much frustration to ask P+ to fix it, but they have shown apathy towards addressing the issue, which is not only insulting to its customers but the artists behind our film.

This is in no way representative of musician Ashraf El-Assaly or sound designer Johnny Blerot, both of whom received award nominations for their work on this film. I'd personally rather you not watch the Lebanese Burger Mafia at all than try to than try to endure this version with subtitles.

To our knowledge, this issue occurs exclusively when watching through Prime's P+ subscription channel. If you're beholden to Paramount+ as a Prime channel, you have other options.

1. Cancel the P+ Prime sub and re-sign up directly through the P+ app (the cost is the same).

2. Watch the movie on Prime Video via laptop or tablet/phone apps. Although these methods may not be the most ideal, they do not experience the audio problem.

3. Rent the film on Apple TV, Google Play, YouTube, or another VOD platform.

We also encourage you to contact Paramount+ and voice your frustrations with their poor customer experience.

It's a strange feeling to sit alone in a theater occupied by parents and their rollicking kids. I felt like instead of a movie ticket, I should have been given a NAMBLA membership.

Based upon Thomas Rockwell's respected Book, How To Eat Fried Worms starts like any children's story: moving to a new town. The new kid, fifth grader Billy Forrester was once popular, but has to start anew. Making friends is never easy, especially when the only prospect is Poindexter Adam. Or Erica, who at 4 1/2 feet, is a giant.

Further complicating things is Joe the bully. His freckled face and sleeveless shirts are daunting. He antagonizes kids with the Death Ring: a Crackerjack ring that is rumored to kill you if you're punched with it. But not immediately. No, the death ring unleashes a poison that kills you in the eight grade.

Joe and his axis of evil welcome Billy by smuggling a handful of slimy worms into his thermos. Once discovered, Billy plays it cool, swearing that he eats worms all the time. Then he throws them at Joe's face. Ewww! To win them over, Billy reluctantly bets that he can eat 10 worms. Fried, boiled, marinated in hot sauce, squashed and spread on a peanut butter sandwich. Each meal is dubbed an exotic name like the "Radioactive Slime Delight," in which the kids finally live out their dream of microwaving a living organism.

If you've ever met me, you'll know that I have an uncontrollably hearty laugh. I felt like a creep erupting at a toddler whining that his "dilly dick" hurts. But Fried Worms is wonderfully disgusting. Like a G-rated Farrelly brothers film, it is both vomitous and delightful.

Writer/director Bob Dolman is also a savvy storyteller. To raise the stakes the worms must be consumed by 7 pm. In addition Billy holds a dark secret: he has an ultra-sensitive stomach.

Dolman also has a keen sense of perspective. With such accuracy, he draws on children's insecurities and tendency to exaggerate mundane dilemmas.

If you were to hyperbolize this movie the way kids do their quandaries, you will see that it is essentially about war. Freedom-fighter and freedom-hater use pubescent boys as pawns in proxy wars, only to learn a valuable lesson in unity. International leaders can learn a thing or two about global peacekeeping from Fried Worms.

At the end of the film, I was comforted when two chaperoning mothers behind me, looked at each other with befuddlement and agreed, "That was a great movie." Great, now I won't have to register myself in any lawful databases.

I am guilty of elitism. I miss the days when Outkast's music was an obscurity. When their music was my music and not everybody's. When I finally did meet someone who knew the hook to "Elevators", we were instant best friends. But alas, Outkast gave up their dark, celestial style for ubiquitous jubilation.

While I'm willing to give up smoking for another ATliens or Aquemini,I can still appreciate the festivity that now ensues when they pop up on the radio. I'm sure Andre 3000 and Big Boi, err... Andre Benjamin and Antwan A. Patton, appreciate it even more. After all, the new vaudeville-bass quirks that they adopted have transformed them into one of the most adored groups today. It also garnered them this opulent production with HBO films.

Andre is Percival, a wholesome son of a mortician with dreams of making the Harlem music scene. Until then he plays piano before a ruthless crowd in Church. Church is hardly that, it is a Speakeasy with wild music and chichi showgirls.

Percival's best friend since childhood is Rooster (Antwan), a suave player from a family of gangsters. When his uncle is gunned down by the shifty eyed Terrence Howard, he inherits Church and it's debt with bootleggers. To get out of the red, he relies on his star performer Angel Davenport, played by the stunning Paula Patton. Angel and Percival develop the love jones.

There are tons of other catalyst characters. So many that it takes the humble narrator (Percival) ten minutes to introduce them all.

The town Idlewild is a place where Caucasians and subtlety do not exist. The only practicing minimalist is Percival and he is viewed as a recluse. He doesn't get talkative until he is alone with a cadaver.

Idlewild is visually titillating and toe-tapping fun, but a very simple story with elaborate storytelling. A period piece with CGI dance numbers, singing cuckoo clocks, and a talking flask. The music doesn't so much forward the story as tease it. When Rooster raps in Church, he paves the way for a Soul Train spectacle.

Bryan Barber acquired the director's chair through a strong relationship with Outkast. He is the man behind their most popular music videos. While he has an eye for pageantry, his script is too thin and unconstrained. For example, the narrator tells us that Rooster and Percival are best friends, but once we transcend their childhood prologue and reach adulthood, there are three instances of interaction. Once in the middle and twice at the end. I got the sense of two separate stories interconnected through habitat instead of plot points.

In so many ways this film is a metaphor for the current state of Outkast's career. While a movie based on the "old" Outkast would probably be a ghetto story in outer space, this one borders on nostalgia and women. Like their solo careers, Andre's character is always artistic and progressive. Big Boi's character arch is so small you could hop over it.

In the last two years there have been intermittent rumors of Outkast's breakup. Since they did not collaborate on their last album, nor the soundtrack to this film, they are together only in plastic packaging. Idlewild does nothing to squash these rumors.

Either way, there's not much I can do but throw my hands up in hey-ya, and rejoice in their gaiety like the rest of the world.