Everybody knows the best parts of every movie are put in the trailer, so as a service, this is where we save you the time and money by telling you if a movie is worth it, based solely on that trailer. This time, Sofia Coppola’s Somewhere, the trailer for which has been out for some time now, but the movie isn’t slated to appear until Christmas holidays.

Ah, Sofia Coppola, you’re like an off and on girlfriend that I’ve known all throughout my life (not literally, but metaphorically speaking). A terrible, mentally abusive metaphorical off and on girlfriend. Of course, at first is grade school, and you repulse me with your death scene in the Godfather part III (which has mostly been swept from the internet but can be seen around the 1:20 mark of this video), making we want to throw sand at you, but then over the years you pull on my heart strings and become endearing, even though, deep down inside I actually want to dislike you. But movies like Lost in Translation make that hard. But then movies like Marie Antoinette make that easy, and of course, remind of of that death scene (*shudder*) and how your pouting face almost messed up Andy Garcia’s chances, so it’s a constant back and forth. And then comes along Somewhere, which based solely on the choice of music for the trailer (an early, acoustic version of the Stroke’s “you only live once” actually called “I’ll try anything once”), puts me right back on board with you. Damn you! And a come back for Stephen Dorff? What!?! That’s just too interesting/weird/totally random to ignore. Anyways, on with the trailer (which I can’t get to embed below so just click here for it) and review.

The Plot:

Stephen Dorff’s character, Johnny Marco, a massive celebrity, parties hard with naked models and vapid Hollywood stereotypes but feels empty inside (poor guy) until his daughter, played by Elle Fanning, gets dumped on him. He takes some time to, you know, get his priorities straight, and they wander through beautiful L.A. landscapes with nice wide angle perspectives, taking us on a bewildering journey through all these areas that we think we know but when Coppola adds her doe-eyed perspective it all just seems that much more precious. Anyways, for the next hour and a half absolutely nothing happens. Just existential conversations on the minutiae of life, until Bill Murray whispers something into Marco’s ear. Instantly Stephen Dorff wakes up from a dream in a roach-infested motel, looks in the mirror, realizes it was all just a dream and that he is still, just in fact Stephen Dorff, and whispers “fuck.” Fade to Black.

The cast:

Stephen Dorff: Plays Johnny Marco, a crazy popular celebrity, which is either a ridiculously inspired casting call on Coppola’s part, or just a huge favour for an old friend (they have apparently known each other for quite some time).

Elle Fanning: plays the daughter, and damn your cold-blooded heart if her big-eyed puppy dog stares and too sweet to be real acceptance of her unusual situation and estranged mother and father doesn’t make you well up.

Benicio Del Toro: Plays somebody referred to as celebrity, so perhaps I take that bit back about Bill Murray, because I have a hunch it’s Benicio that will whisper something into Dorff’s ear (possibly “Viva la revolucion”)

The reception:

Dorff’s performance will be heralded as brilliant, thus cementing his comeback in gold. The Academy award for best actor won’t hurt either, and he will turn into one of the most sought after actors in the U.S., supplanting Depp, Pitt, DiCaprio, et al.

Haha, just kidding. Remember the plot about him waking up in a roach motel? And did you ever hear something about how life imitates art? Exactly. Although people will start to take notice of Elle Fanning, as she will remind them of that sweet, cute, stoic little girl in I Am Sam, buying her a nice little career until she too hits puberty and starts reminding everyone of the not so sweet, not so cute and rather annoying Dakota Fanning.

The movie, of course, will be a big hit, as good sequels to great movies often are (internationally Somewhere will be called Lost in Translation Two: return to L.A.), and Coppola will be heralded with a mountain of screenplay awards, leaving her dad crazy proud, but even more confused, because “damn, Tetro was an amazing screenplay and I got shit for that! Then my spoiled little daughter gets these! agh!!!!” Francis will then go write Tetro Two, about a daughter who steals her father’s spotlight and gets shot and killed on a staircase, a la Godfather part III (ah, the world. So cyclical).

Who will be in the theatre watching this:

I will, and you know you will too. In fact, anyone who wants to pretend they have artistic taste will be there, because that’s what you think of when you hear Sofia Coppola: An accessible art house film that will leave you feeling good. Also, it will make you feel as if you are on the cutting edge of something because your parents still have no idea she was a director, and can’t forgive her for that horrible death scene in Godfather Part III (“Agh, I die!” Fall on stairs in slow motion). It almost ruined their marriage somehow, after all.

One shot music videos, in which the camera never cuts out and the action takes place in one fluid motion, have been around for almost as long as the music video itself. Just think back to Bob Dylan’s Subterranean Homesick Blues released in the ’60s. But as of late there have been a ton of great additions, some on par with what I consider one of the best one shot videos ever. As such, here are the best of recent one shot videos, just from memory (aka no Google). Feel free to post yours in the comments.

LCD soundsystem, “Drunk Girls”

I may be one of the only people that didn’t go crazy over the lead single off of LCD Soundsystem’s latest record, but the video is a great example of what you can do with one room, a shitload of props, and a bunch of hooligans dressed up as cats.

J. Cole, “Who Dat”

The second from J. Cole and director BBGun, this one shot video is similar to the video for Simba, even down to the shot that pans up, then pans down to reveal a crowd has slipped into the bottom of the screen, but there is something about the cinematic quality of them both that makes it still work. Plus, for Who Dat they added some explosions, which always works in the summer.

Asher Roth, Muddy Swim Trunks

Whether you like Asher Roth or not (psst, I hope you don’t), it’s the video for this one, again by BBGun, that does it. Also, I guess when you release videos mostly just online, they can be sort of NSFW (as in, it shows boobs, male and female, at the same time).

OK GO, “This Too Shall Pass”

When I was a kid I lost my shit for those massive domino performances/shows/whatever they’re called where basically some dude spent half his life setting up a bunch of dominoes and silly stunts that automatically go off, like some messed up useless machines from Terry Gilliam’s dystopian vision that is Brazil, only to set it off for two minutes of pure fun.

Shad, “Rose Garden”

Saving the best for last, this awesome homage to a classic Pharcyde video takes it up a notch by not only doing it in one take, but by doing it in reverse first, then stopping half way to play it in forward, and synching up lyrics to actions the whole time. Plus, a solid song by a great Canadian rapper.

In the spirit of true American friendliness, for Canada Day Gawker published a list of Canadians it would like to see deported back to Canada. It included Justin Bieber, Avril Lavigne, Pamela Anderson, Michael Cera, Ryan Reynolds, Evangeline Lilly, Mike Myers, Keanu Reeves, Nia Vardalos, Elisha Cuthbert, Morley Safer, Steven Cojocaru (who?) and Howie Mandel. So I say fine, in the true spirit of Canadian acquiescence to you, America, we will take them back. But only because that means you keep the following:

Gavin McInnes: Seriously, ever since this one trick pony stopped writing Do’s and Don’ts for Vice he became even less relevant. His new venture, Street Carnage, has nothing on the old laugh out loud sarcastic observations about random people’s sartorial decisions (it’s too Americanized now, I guess). So you can keep him and his piss eating antics.

Celine Dion: Really? You don’t want to deport Celine? So typically American, taking some of our worst acts (see next entry) and blowing them up to such epic proportions that they have the ability to sell out Vegas night after night. Enjoy, Vegas. Your welcome.

Nickelback: Nice work on this one guys, real nice. Kroeger and company were totally harmless until the U.S. devoured their repetitive cock rock lyrics and cheesy antics. Thankfully we have enough musical talent to draw from so that we can keep the Back off the airwaves up here, leaving more for you. Maybe we should just rename Kroeger’s haircut from the Alberta Waterfall to the Alabama one right now?

Dov Charney: I’m actually shocked this guy is Canadian, although it sort of makes sense given his close connection to Vice Magazine. That said, his salacious soft-core advertising and countless sexual harassment complaints not only make this guy the perfect American, but also the perfect candidate for Governor. Vote Charney in 2011!

Disclaimer: Until someone else makes equally as good 50/50 t-shirts I will likely continue to buy AA ones. My scruples aren’t that high.

Alex Trebek: You’re just so friggin smart, aren’t you Trebek? With all your snarky answers, like you know everything….You’re reading from the cards!!! That’s worse than cheating, so just tone down the arrogance. Also, you officially know more U.S. history than anyone else in the country, so you might as well just stay.

Barenaked Ladies: That’s right, up here the Ladies were practically in line with Sharon, Lois and Bram. South of the border, their concerts get so crazy that a friend of mine once witnessed a full on lesbian orgy in the middle of the mosh pit during the show. Clearly, they are waaaay better down there (with or without Steven Page).

Peter North: aka Matt Ramsey, aka, the North Pole, aka, the most famous male porn star in the business today. This guy is such a true picture of living the American Dream, that it just wouldn’t be fair to take him back at this point.

Brendan Fraser: Since he actually peaked with his first role, playing a typical Southern California resident (Encino Man), I think it’s only fair to let him continue to live that dream out until it comes crashing down on him and he ends up playing some real life man in a cartoon world, or his craft just degenerates into some of the worst acting this planet has ever seen. (Wait, what do you mean? Already?)

Jason Priestly: I think Canada can do without yet another made for TV movie or infomercial or after school special where Priestly races a car or plays hockey, so go ahead, he’s all yours. And while we’re at it, you can keep his fictional sister’s replacement, Shenae Grimes (does that mean they are related).

Keifer Sutherland: Honestly, we don’t want him. Every time he comes home he gets way too drunk and starts bar fights.

]]> http://theashcan.com/2010/07/02/ten-canadians-the-u-s-can-keep/feed/ 2 http://theashcan.com/2010/06/28/with-fergie-gone-the-black-eyed-peas-may-have-a-chance/ http://theashcan.com/2010/06/28/with-fergie-gone-the-black-eyed-peas-may-have-a-chance/#comments Mon, 28 Jun 2010 14:02:11 +0000 jessekg http://theashcan.com/?p=4985 Step one: get rid of Fergie. Step two: work on those photo shoot poses

The Black Eyed Pea’s most recent album The E.N.D. (Energy Never Dies) might now stand for, quite simply, the end. Rumours that Fergie is leaving the band due to disputes with Will.i.am’s ego (and always spelling his name wrong), as well as her wanting to get pregnant, are making the rounds and they sound pretty convincing. But most of the headlines are missing the true angle of the story. What this means is that the Black Eyed Peas have a chance to actually be good again. I think everyone has heard that Fergie changed the Peas (for the better or worse is totally subjective), but had no idea in what capacity. Here is a very brief history.

In 1992 a group of kids form the L.A. based hip hop group The Atban Klann, (ATBAN: A Tribe Beyond a Nation), which has overt references to a highly influential NYC-based hip hop Tribe formed in 1985. The funniest thing about Atban though is that they were signed to Eazy E’s label, Ruthless, who didn’t want anything to do with the positive lyrics and wouldn’t release the Klann’s debut album.

Go forward to 1998, when positive hip hop was already a big part of the music scene, and the newly named Black Eyed Peas (Will.i.am, Taboo and Apl,de.ap) put out Behind the Front. This was a total backpack rap record, full of positive lyrics, completely devoid of gangsterisms, and almost entirely played on college radio stations. They toured with bands like Jurassic-Five, and the highlight to their career was probably appearing on the Bulworth soundtrack (a terrible movie better known for it’s hip hop soundtrack, especially the ubiquitous Ghetto Superstar lead single).

In 2000, the Peas release another solid hip hop album, Bridging the Gap, gaining plenty of credibility (guests on the album included De La Soul and Mos Def), but probably not much else in terms of funds. Credibility can get you into a night club, for instance, but it can’t pay for drinks.

Then 2001 hits, and they release Elephunk, an album that I personally couldn’t wait for. After being turned onto the Peas sometime between the first two albums I was constantly playing them and burning cds for other friends. I actually purchased Elephunk, not yet aware of the possibility to download, and listened to the first 30 or so seconds of each track, forwarding to the next one in search of something, anything, that sounded like the Tribe Called Quest-inspired group that I had become a fan of. At one point I actually rifled through the liner notes, just making sure that this wasn’t some OTHER band called the Black Eyed Peas. It wasn’t, but yet it totally was. Fergie had joined the group and almost instantly they had gone from hip hop to whatever the crap is they put out today. The lead single of that one? Where is the Love? How do you go from this, to where is the love, which, when you compare to their more recent stuff, isn’t even that bad. Although Fergie can’t totally be blamed (at first), because she was actually approached to sing on Shut Up (which shows they were going to put out a shit single with or without her), her influence definitely shone through on all of their most recent work. The original Peas were essentially relegated to back up singers, or good for the occasional echo.

Not only that, but even the entire message of the Peas changed throughout the aughts, and you don’t even have to go back too far for an example. As recently as Where is the Love (and to reiterate, it featured Fergie, but was conceived pre-Fergie), which refers to people being too money obsessed, among other things, designer label driven songs like My humps or cash-obsessed lyrics in I gotta feeling (“I got my money. Let’s spend it up”) have slowly taken all that ’90s hip hop cred, and diminished it to the point where, for example, they actually feud with Perez Hilton (As opposed to completely ignore him.) Arguing with an annoying gossip blogger because he says bad things about you is a low point in terms of authenticity if there ever was one. That said, bonus points for at least giving him a black eye.

Despite all this, and fortunately for the Peas, since Fergie joined the group has sold 35 million albums worldwide and 41 million singles. Clearly a winning combination, cash wise. But please guys, no more Monkey Business. Please. Just put an E.N.D. to this.

What I’m saying is that it might (might) not be too late for them, and since they are already filthy rich, they can abandon the cheesy dance tunes and go back to making some decent hip hop. They have accumulated so many 13-year-old girl and frat boy fans that people will eat up anything they put out, and it will take their fans at least one or two albums before they realize that, “wait, I can’t dance or fist bump to this, and what’s with all the words? I’m more of a 10 words over and over and over again kind of listener,” and tune out to the Peas forever. Perhaps by that point they could have some of their old school fans back, essentially trading the ones who spend money for the ones who don’t, but gaining some credibility in the process, as well as doing the world a favour by ridding it of one extremely annoying thing, i.e. the pre-2010, post-’90s Black Eyed Peas.

Come on Peas. Say goodbye to Fergie, reconvene in one of your many mansions and gold-plated recording studios, and craft up something worth listening to. What are you waiting for, lets do it, and do it, and do it and do it, let’s do it, and do it and do it do it do it, Just do it, and do it, I do it, you do it, they do it, it do it, do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it’ – I gotta feeling, 2009.

Weird Al, easily being mistaken for  fellow-comedian Russell Brand

No jokes. Not only is he alive, but he’s doing well, almost as if we’re still waiting for the ’90s to happen. As recently as June 18 he was still touring, and little did I know that he released a best of double disc CD (album art above) in 2009. On top of all that, he’s still putting out new material. What!?

I’m actually pretty happy that Weird is not dead, which I found out after stumbling across this very recent NPR’s Tiny Desk concert. He played three new songs, two of them non-parodies, and one of them a White Stripes compilation/parody about Charles Nelson Reilly, a truly obscure bygone actor to pick for a parody. Out of the three songs, it was really the only one that got a healthy dose of laughter and applause, the others just being straight up not funny. But we can learn two things about Weird through this concert: the guy can make his voice sound however he wants; and his parodies are entertaining enough that he could probably do them until he actually dies. That is, afterall, what he is good at, and what anyone reading this blog likely remembers him for, myself included.

From his 1984 album Weird Al Yankovic in 3D onwards, Weird introduced pop culture (that was the “like a surgeon” album) to me, via of course my parents, because as if I knew how to work a cassette deck at five- or six-years-old. I followed him fairly closely, him being a regular fixture on Much Music (and ESPECIALLY his still awesome fake interviews) but it wasn’t until 1992, when his cover of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” introduced an older me to the very first band I would become a super fan of. In fact, after stumbling upon the original source of the song (I actually thought it was a Weird Al original) I was so hooked that I swore off cheesy parodies of good music and sought out pretty much any music that Nirvana cited as good: MudHoney, Sonic Youth, the Meat Puppets, the Pixies, etc… which led to anything coming from Seattle at the time, which of course led me to believe that I was pretty ‘in the know’ in terms of what good music was. Nevertheless, I never listened to Weird again. Shows how grateful I am of the guy who actually introduced me to good music, and ultimately turned me off bad music, i.e. his. Anyways, thanks for that Weird. Glad you’re still kicking.

“It’s called beating the beat. First, put on some Major Lazer, then you get down to the floor, then gradually move your hands up like this, then once the tempo picks up you just start fist pumping the shit out of it. Apparently all the kids are doing it these days.”

In Canada’s equivalent to “yes, I smoked pit but I didn’t inhale,” or “yes, I slept with a 13-year-old prostitute in Cambodia but I didn’t finish so it doesn’t count,” Industry Minister Tony Clement admitted to, gasp!, transferring music from his CDs to his iPod.  BORing.

I can just picture him now, chatting on ICQ to his gal pals, talking about what colour Crocs he is going to wear out, watching the Hills (on cable, which he totally pays full price for), ordering CDs from Columbia House and waiting patiently so he can put them on his computer and transfer them to his iPod.

To make it even better, the Post then listed the first 10 songs that came up when he hit shuffle, and WTF? He has taste?

1. 1974 version of Let’s Twist Again by David Bowie and John Lennon

2. Pinball Wizard by The Who

3. Lakeside Park by Rush

4. Pretty Girls by Joe Jackson

5. Store Bought Bones by the Raconteurs

6. Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney

7. Meat Plow by Stone Temple Pilots

8. Further On Up The Road by The Band

9. Too Late, by No Doubt

10. Running to Stand Still by U2

Paul McCartney and the Who, of course. But STP, No Doubt and the Raconteurs? Too funny.

Plus, his dream list, he said, would include “Muse, Kings of Leon, the new Broken Social Scene album and The Trews.” He is either vying for the coolest dad award, or the creepiest dad trying to stay in touch with his useful side award (a la Kevin Spacey in American Beauty), but either way, his taste is definitely better than Stephen Harper’s (Bryan Adams, obviously, Nickel Back, Alberta represent!, and subliminal pot smoking anthems, but of course).

“I swear I could put my whole head in there, so I told Mena, ‘I don’t care if I put on 10 condoms, there is no way I’m going to feel anything. Now just give me my money back.’”

In almost-breaking news that nobody really cares about but we all find vaguely interesting, Saban has bought the rights to the Power Rangers back from Disney effective immediately. Apparently a new season of the clandestine coloured costume clad characters is in development, while repeats on Nickelodeon will keep kids sated until next season.

In memory of this great franchise, I present the top five greatest moments in Power Rangers history:

• The Power Rangers meet the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a crossover episode that forever alters our perception of reality.
• The Power Rangers break every child labour law known to mankind. Justin (Bieber before Bieber yo) was a pre-teen who turned into a fully grown adult when his morphing powers were activated. And you thought your pubescent years were tough.
• Zordon dies in an emotional sacrifice, recalling shades ofTransformers the Movie (1986 version) when Optimus Prime gives his life to save Autobot City. I’m not crying, it’s just raining outside, I swear.
• I know it’s hard to believe, but the very, very first time I saw the Green Ranger call his Dragonzord, I legitimately thought it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. Ever.
• Not many people may remember this, but during the height of the Might Morphing Power Rangers’ popularity (which happened to coincide with the advent of internet pornography), topless pictures surfaced of Amy Jo-Johnson, at that time the Pink Ranger and romantic dream girl to millions of fawning preteen boys. There really was no precedent for something like this, and even today I struggle to think of a comparison. I would say maybe Miley Cyrus or iCarly leaking studio shot topless photos, but boys don’t really watch Hannah Montana,  or whatever. I suppose the most apt modern analogy would be Vanessa Hudgens and her sexting pics, but… you know. The Pink Ranger is so much more bad ass.

Wayne was literally caught holding the bag, which in this case contained a charger and earbuds. Corrections officers  (who apparently know how these MP3 gizmos work) later found the accompanying iPod in a neighbouring cell to Wayne’s.

To steal a thought from The Wire, there’s definitely a Dickensian aspect to this story. You have one of the worlds biggest rappers, who makes his profession bragging about his street cred and how hard he is. He goes to jail for gun possession, which for someone who plies Wayne’s trade is like punishing a carpenter for carrying a tape measure.

Now, although he’s living what many would consider the natural consequences of his brand identity, he is so deprived that he needs to illegally smuggle an iPod into jail. Let’s not be confused, as The Voice article mentions, smuggling electronics into prison is not a small matter. The fact Wayne did so speaks either to how desperately he’s missing music, or more cynically, how continually skewed his perspective is on the consequences of his action.

Either way, kind of tough to not sympathize with the guy.

via: The Village Voice

As excited as I was about seeing a reinterpretation of one of my favourite childhood movies, I wrote the following lead sentence before I stepped into the theatre: the only thing worse than actually being haunted by the real Freddy Krueger in your dreams is being stuck in a dream where you are forced to watch the new Nightmare on Elm Street over and over and over. Fortunately for my lead, it ended up coming true, which is unfortunate for the actual movie, and my Friday night spent watching it.

The rest of the review after the jump.

The marketing for this I’m sure soon-to-be-headed-straight-to-DVD movie followed the same vein as another smashingly successful reinterpretation of a classic franchise, Batman Begins, which like Nightmare, looked darker, scarier and featured a title character with an aggressively (and overdone) baritone voice.

But unlike Batman, the dark reinterpretation of Nightmare pretty much ends at a more realistic looking make up job for Krueger. In fact, they should have just called it Nightmare on Elm Street part 9: Let’s do it all over again!, (or whatever number they are on now).

I guess really having run out of all other things for Freddy to do (Freddy VS Jason anyone?), the best route was to just start from the beginning and tweak with it. So you have the creepy nursery school, the “Freddy’s gonna get you” nursery rhyme, and Freddy taking revenge on the kids of the parents who trapped him in a building and burned it down.

A good thing that does come out of this is the onus on Freddy pre-burning, which we haven’t seen in much detail in any of the other films yet. It also takes a stab at the question of whether or not Freddy is just a child killer, or a child molester, something only ever hinted at by Wes Craven. Without giving it away though, just by looking at the actor who plays Freddy, Jackie Earle Haley, it’s easy to guess which side of the question they come down on. I mean, if he isn’t playing a molester (Little Children), he’s a victim of child abuse (The Watchmen), or an extra on MacGyvre (yes, that one). Plus he looks like a mini Danny Bonaduce, which is actually pretty scary in its own right.

But not to get dragged into the original 1984 story line too much, the new nightmare does introduce some new ideas. For instance, in a world with Red Bull, how do you carry the plot forward in a movie that requires everyone to be sleeping, even when they know they will likely die when they do sleep? Conveniently there is this thing called “micro naps.” They happen when you stay awake for more than 72 hours, then all of a sudden, Bang, the micro nap gets ya. One minute you’re pumping gas, the next minute Freddy’s got you bent over his rusty cot in the molester den (the molester den is only part true). It’s enough to ensure that of the 95 minute running time, I would say 80 of those are in dream sequence.

But there is another important question/trend at play here. Why remake a classic horror movie now that, one, it was already pretty awesome when it appeared in ’84, and two, has been absolutely overdone and generally run through the mud over the last 26 years? Monsters, that’s what. Hollywood cannot get enough of them right now, and I blame Twilight. I can imagine what the back room talk with execs must have sounded like:

Head Exec: “Hey, monsters are pretty sexy nowadays, with all these vampires and werewolves eh? You know what, let’s bring back the sexiest of all the ’80s monsters, Freddy Kreuger!!!”

blank stares all around

Exec # 2: “umm, sir, Krueger wasn’t exactly sexy, in the traditional sense. His skin was burned everywhere and he wore that terrible striped shirt.”

Exec # 3: “and wasn’t he a molester with cheesy sexual innuendos?”

Head Exec: “no no no, he only killed kids, and his sweater was ironic. All the kids are into that today. It’s sexy.”

blank stares all around

Head Exec: “Know what? You’re right, maybe we do need some more sexy in it though. Put the molestation back in. Next!”

That’s right, I’m just going to spoil it, because you probably wont watch this movie anyways. The remake makes Freddy a full on child molester. When they decided to scrap that idea in 1984 because, well, it was gross, they turned him strictly into a murderer. Well now he’s both. So there you go. Darker.

And I guess I’m wrong about this whole thing. Maybe Freddy is a super sexy trend-setter, because hipsters are already starting to dress like him at work (see below). Great, that’s just great. Like always, I’m the last one to know. Now if you will excuse me I need to go buy a red-striped sweater, brown fedora and plastic fork. Damnit, and I already spent all my money on a Texas Chainsaw Massacre skin suit.

1. “Police say nothing to suggest foul play,” says the dek. What? How does somebody die in a park naturally? Secret heart-attack while peeing in the bushes?
2. “She says the homicide squad is monitoring the case, which is standard procedure when remains are found.” I would hope so.
3. “Const. Drummond says there’s nothing to suggest foul play.” If it turns out the person did die while peeing, does that still count as foul play? Eh? Eh? Ok, I’m going brain dead.