Hey, Director!

Be Kind, Rewind My Life Back to Before I Saw this Movie

2008-02-24T18:51:00.002-05:00

Good movies compel us with memorable performances and cinematography. Even a bad movie can entertain us. What I have no tolerance for is a movie that gives up on or lacks altogether a plot. Gaps in a story and questions left unanswered eat away at my patience. What’s even worse is when the directing style, genre and cinematography all clash and never seem to get on the same page. I become annoyed with hiccups in a film and are soon consumed by them to the point of not enjoying the $6.50 investment in my Friday night.

Be Kind Rewind is one of those films. I went into this one with high hopes and great anticipation. How could it miss? It mixes the comedic talent of Jack Black with the directorial genius of Michael Gondry. I cannot begin to tell you how wrong I was.

Long story short, Jack Black’s character destroys all the tapes in a run-down rental store and must save the day with store employee, played by Mos Def. If they fail, the store will be demolished and a historic community will be forever-changed by new condos and shops set to be built.

Now I will give some credit to the makers of this film. There are several great comedic moments as well as some very clever ideas. Watching Black and Def recreate several classic flicks that I grew up on using an old VHS clunk-camcorder was, at times, brilliant. Interlaced with the stupid comedy was also a (would-be) touching story of a pioneer music figure in the community, presenting itself sporadically through montage. In addition, you have a few big name stars to fill out the lineup.

About midway through BKR, however, it almost seemed like the writers just stopped working on this one, leaving the task of sorting everything out up to monkeys or perhaps West Virginians. We lose most of the comedy as well as any understanding of how was got from A to B. Part of the problem is there is too much of an attempt to be unique and groundbreaking while shooting a goofy laugher. In the end, the wrong elements were brought together and this turned out to be one big experimental disaster…A wrongful attempt to capture white comedy while pushing historic urban culture. I cannot imagine even having stayed for the entirety of the film if Jack Black was not in it.

With several unique cinematic notches on his bedpost, namely Eternal Sunshine, I am at a loss for words. There were too many conflicting styles in this one to really pin it down and analyze it. Based on the feeling I had leaving the theatre, regretting a wasted weekend night, I have to say this one may go down in history as one of the top five worst movies I have seen on the silver screen.

Content above Quality. Story above Shock-value. Write that down, Gondry

The 411 on 300; If Only History Class was this Fun

2008-02-18T19:52:00.003-05:00

For over three decades, my mother has served as a middle school teacher. Her area of specialty: Social Studies. Every year she teaches a unit on ancient Greece covering everything from architecture to various gods and goddesses. In the midst of it somewhere, the class covered the battle of Thremopylae, the epic struggle loosely depicted in 300. Granted, historians would probably agree that accuracy of events in the film hardly hold any merit, I find it a lot easier to appreciate stories of old when they have been depicted on the silver screen.

I will admit I was a little late seeing the film. I watched it alone in bed on Valentine's Day in an attempt to watch the most unromantic movie I could find...in pure spite. 300 pretty much accomplished everything I hoped it would from action and brutality to a cold hero that wouldn't even kiss his wife goodbye. The special effects and green-screen created world were something to behold. But what started as an attempt to kick Cupid in the balls quickly became a realization of the ramifications of historically-based fictional film.

Take movies like Braveheart, Glory, Platoon and Saving Private Ryan; all brilliant, all different. Each take a valid, often disturbing, moment in this world's checkered past and they challenge us. The most common way they do this is through the sacrifice of a few "good guys" for a much greater good. While few of us would face dismemberment like William Wallace or execution like black Union captees, we leave the theatre with a drive that was not present beforehand, rooted deeply in our great respect for those that came before us and their unwavering courage to change the status-quo. The fictional story serves as the fatty meat clinging to the bone that is fact. We appreciate these stories when romantic, melodramatic and explosive plot supplement the true story.

300 is not accurate. No one knows what would be accurate. Given how long ago Sparta fell at the hands of the Persians and little account of it, truth is secondary to story. But the little kid (and film maker) in me wants all history to be this fun!

Mardi Gras: Being Sleazy in the Big Easy

2008-02-07T23:57:00.000-05:00

I don't even know where to begin. With that first part of the blur... or the middle part of the blur... or that time I was shot at...

Look, Mardi Gras in New Orleans is kind of like life on the moon. You can't really say what its like unless you've seen it, its crazy as all hell, some of it probably has to do with probing, and its crazy as all hell.

You really think of it as one big giant booze fueled orgy with beads, beers, boobs and bordellos... But really I only saw a few of those things when I was there. And during the day time its completely different. There are lots of families out to collect beads, drink beers, admire boobs, and possibly patronize the bordellos. Seriously.

There were families with little kids that just brought bags to the parades and flung their children over whatever police barracade was in their way in order to HORDE BEADS. I've never seen anything like it. What are they food? Did i miss something? They are plastic right? WHY DO YOU NEED WHOLE DUFFLE BAGS OF BEADS. And really I think that whole flashing thing is over-hyped, I didn't see too much of it. I only had one girl flash me when I was there. Granted, I was flattered. But I was also with my enormous 6'5" friend, and she could've just mistaken him for a carnivorous predator and flashed her "false eye spots" to confuse him into thinking she was a much larger, and hence inedible prey.

But I digress... The real point of me sharing this with the world is to get the real point about New Orleans as a city itself. Honestly, nothing there made sense. Everyone was seriously drunk or drinking seriously, the cops were the meanest people around, and every person I met on the street became my best friend simply because I was standing near them. It was like the entire city was just one big hapenin' spot that no one new about because you had to be a friend of someone important to get in, and because we all new that one friend but not each other, we were instantly trustable and someone you'd want to introduce to your daughter.

But all was not so... So my giant friend and myself happened to be patronizing a Krystal burger on a Sunday evening (that's like a knockoff White Castle, by the way... NOT a bordello) and we go in and order and everything and are waiting around with lots of other people for our food when my friend says he hears fireworks.

Well lo and behold someone comes running into the joint saying "Everybody get DOWN!" And of course, people liking to do what loud people tell them, all hunkered down on the floor to get out of range of any stray bullets. I kind of thought it was silly since I hadn't heard any evidence of gunfire, but I soon changed my mind when I saw a uniformed police officer outside running--piece out and pointed down, Jack Baur style--and decided that I too would join everyone on the floor. This didn't last long of course, because my order was called almost immediately, so I just kind of held my hand up at the counter and magically an unafraid and seemingly battle tested Krystal Employee handed me my delicious, delicious bag of whateverwedecidedlookedgoodwhenweordered.

We go upstairs to a second floor eating area, thinking it might be a little safer from stray gunfire, but a cop soon comes up and tells us we should leave, and to have our ID's ready and we're going to be frisked. I finished my burger (we still had more) and threw any trash and weapons I happened to be carrying at the time (they were ample) and walked to the door where some sauced, 40 something, crazy, peroxide blonde was screaming at some drunken highschool kids. Don't worry, I was as confused as you are now. I have no, nor cannot produce an explanation as to what was happening. This happened a lot. Moving on:

We go outside get frisked and ID'd and I thank the officer for handling the situation and I'm glad they have so many horses in a major metropolitan area. He pushes me. I thank him again. This is leading to yet another story of a shooting... no joke. There was more than one.

The night before, my friends and I strolled back to our Hotel (near Canal and Bourbon St. Awesome location... who found it? Ahem) and found that the street it was on was blocked off by police tape. What the hell? My friend would later relate his experience to me as the following:

So I ask the cop that was rolling out the tape what happened and he said
"Please step away, sir, I am an officer of the LAW." (A police version of
flashing your eyespots) I told him that I was sorry, but stayed at the
hotel that was currently being quarentined and wanted to know what happened.
He got really irratated. "SIR, you are invading my personal space
and I'm going to ask you again, for the last time, to move back. SIR, SIR!
You're not moving back fast enough, I AM AN OFFICER OF THE LAW. Move back faster. CONTINUE TO MOVE BACKWARDS."
Apparantly backing away slowly, with your hands in the air isn't good
enough anymore. I guess it was a good thing that he yelled at me as I
backed up slowly instead of me TAKING OFF RUNNING and him shooting me.'

I concur with all of this.

That is not all, nor nearly everything I can and will divulge in a semi-public setting. I mean after all, I have a serious internet reputation to hold up here. But I can and will say that if you ever go to New Orleans... Go out, Go hard, but Get the hell in a hotel before midnight because that's when all of the shoostings begin.

Best party ever

So far...

Do Not Be Like Me, Do Not Watch Roadhouse

2008-02-06T00:04:00.000-05:00

There is hair in my whiskey as I write this, but I don't really give a fuck. Nor do I give a fuck that I've played Third Eye Blind "Semi-Charmed Life" about ten times in the past hour, trying to bring back memories of my life before I went down the left hand path. And I certainly don't give a fuck anymore about how I spend my Friday evenings. That I rented Roadhouse this past Friday night is proof of that much (the bachelor life is just fine! I've got the carcuses of three roasted chickens from the local Safeway on my computer room floor and one more in the living room, next to my Glock!)

What to say, what to say....Roadhouse is what I watched when I was supposed to be reading about the collocation problem, sorites arguments, and the recursive analysis of virtue. But who wants to do that? Patrick Swayze came onto my screen and a peace washed over me. It is his silent and sure manner. The manner that all good action heroes must have. They rebuff the most beautiful women in the name of principle, they fight and beat men twice their size, and they always have a cool and edgy zinger up their sleeves (metaphorically speaking: Dalton, Swayze's character, is shirtless for much of the film). And though not a universal feature of the action hero, Dalton follows the venerable tradition of having an old mentor. In his case, it is Wade Garrett, played by Sam Elliot (the narrator in The Big Lebowksi). That deep, canorous voice is still there like always, except this time, it emanates from a body that knows kung-fu.

The plot is, well, you need not concern yourself with the plot. I could have pleasured myself to select Facebook pictures, folded some loose laundry, and cleaned out my car at any point during the film without losing my sense of storyline. Needless to say, it is about a roadhouse in Kansas, and that means, in addition to the physical structure of the building, you get all those things that roadhouses have in the Hollywood world: tits, razor-tipped boots, martial arts showdowns, and blind musicians playing behind protective wire-screens.

Your life is probably going too well right now to bother with such a film. But if you start to hover above rock-bottom, and you've got the money for a rental, check out Roadhouse and get one step closer to becoming yours truly.

"The sky it was gold, it was rose,
I was taking sips of it through my nose,
And I wish I could get back there,
Some place back there..."

Commercials: Essentially Mini-Movies

2008-02-04T18:42:00.000-05:00

I have to admit, folks, I am a little hard pressed to come up with material this week. I haven't seen a new movie since my last post and my attempts at reaching back into my childhood for classics weren't working for me on this post-bowl Monday. I am, however, still buzzing from the assortment of small cinematic feats that sprinkled themselves over my 'Superbowl Sundae'.

In comparison to the last couple of years, we had some solid winners. But in hindsight, I guess anything is better than watching a half-ass American Idol mouth the words to our national anthem. Why don't you just wipe your butt with the flag, Sparx?!

Regarding the commercials, we had everyting from Justin Timberlake getting the crap beaten out of him to cavemen in beer commercials. There were a couple I didn't understand: Did anyone catch the two animated commercials for sales leads that were border-line racist? Each featured stereotyped minority personalities. Maybe it was just me.

What these lil' treasures give us are small, concentrated explosions of punchline. At prices in the 7 digits to produce and put on the air, writers and creators alike do the darndest to get their money's worth. We see plot, rising action, climax AND resolution in 30 seconds or less. Now, granted I am fully use to a 30 second climax (sorry ladies), these ads take us places that commercials the other 364 days of the year do not. Perhaps it's just the atmosphere and the alcohol that allow for such an effect, but I'd like to think that the ad agencies say to themselves "let's give the folks something special this year" and go to town creating material that runs along side the excitement of the game itself. What other televised event can you think of that causes people to shut up DURING commercial breaks?!

I am stating the obvious here but it needs to be said. Where would we be without these entities of the t.v.? Do you really think that the corporations make the money back they spend as a direct result of the ad itself? NO! They do it for the glory. They do it because it brightens people's lives and gives them to talk about on Monday. We salute you, Super Bowl commercials. God knows the game isn't always exciting (this year's game sucked for the firt 3 quarters), but you give us something to hold onto in addition to our nacho plate and Coors Light.

Shoot Me Up: Maybe THEN I'd enjoy it...

2008-01-30T16:28:00.000-05:00

There comes a time in every man’s life when he must take a stand. A time in which drawing a line in the sand means everything, virtue is the foundation of courage and strength, and a reckless endangerment of self for the greater good means you will just plain GET THINGS DONE.

I watched Shoot em’ Up last week. And now I don’t believe anything good exists in the world. “Surely,” I thought to myself… “Surely, this isn’t a movie made by some terrible fanboy director who simply dreamed of making a movie with ‘all the ‘cool’ things you can do in a gunfight.”

Oh no he DI-IN’T!

If you're watching the video above, you're going to see a tween girl introduce some dude looking like a cheaper, geekier version of Steven Speilberg and the first thing out of his mouth is "Shoot Em' Up is all the cool things you can do in a gun fight..."

Now, I don't usually wish gun violence on anyone... even if I think it will do the world some good in the intelligence department. But damn would the irony be delicious.

Guess what Michael Davis… You’re not cool, the movie blew terribly, the violence got boring, and everything in it was a clichéd version of something I’d seen in other movies that were actually cool. Thank god it will only swallow Monica Bellucci’s career. Clive Owen, and Paul Giamatti are too good to care about this one. Somewhere in all that excess Michael Davis forgot why a gunfight was cool to begin with… All that other shit you had to go through to get there.

The Mexican standoff at the end of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly with the titular characters: Amazing. Why? Good question. They mostly just stand around and look at each other for literally 3 minutes before anyone draws their gun. Why is this suspenseful? Why is this affective? Why is this…cool? We.actualy.care.about.what’s.happening.

The standoff between Keanu (as himself) and the Agent Smith in The Matrix, Butch Cassidy and The Kid taking on the Bolivian Army, Kurt Russell fording the river in Tombstone simply REFUSING to die, any moment in The Untouchables, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, or the very end of Die Hard. All of these are great films with great action sequences that move the plot along and actually have meaning within the film. Plus we CARE about what's happening because we're not just watching "heroes doing their thing," but characters in great stories that mean something to us. If one of them dies, its a big deal. No one dies in Shoot em' Up because none of it matters to the plot at all...

But then there are those movies that have plots, but we all know its just a ruse to show us good gun battles. Like The Big Hit with Lou Diamond Phillips... Y'know... Before he did BATS and fell off the face of the earth.

Where could he be? Oh wait... I found him.

Shoot em' Up uses action as a distraction from the plot. Not because it doesn't have one... because it does... technically. But this "plot" basically serves to get us from one cocktail napkin idea to another... because that's what happens in cocktail napkin gimmick films. Whoever had the brilliant idea to begin with, sits down, has a couple gin martinis, a lap dance, and maybe a couple of grandpa's "idea pills," and starts writing down more things he thinks is clever onto cocktail napkins at whatever wanna-be-high-class strip joint he happens to reside on that particular Thursday night. The "plot" is the dried vomit and gin on whatever table Michael Davis happens to be slumped over, that holds down these cocktail napkins that say "Shoot bad guys while falling out of a plane" or "shoot bad guys while having sex" or "shoot bad guys at a playground" or "Kill a man with a carrot" or "Shoot a sign to make lewd suggestions" or "Use bullets to open doors" or "Have Supervillain with bullets for eyes" (He would later lose this one vomiting in a strip club stall).

Either way... the title basically gives away the ending. A first for everyone. Congrats, now you can skip this movie.

My suggestion to the all-knowing Michael Davis: Go back to doing what you do best. You started your career with writing the infinitely successful Double Dragon not to mention Prehysteria 2 and Prehysteria 3. I suggest writing a fourth Prehysteria... or a Double Dragon 2: Quadruple Dragon. Because I sincerely hope no one in their right mind will make the mistake New Line Cinema did, and let you raid the weapon prop department in a studio again and make another bomb like this one. Also... why didn't you come up with Prehysteria 1? Must've missed out on that money train.

Rambo: More Blood than "There Will Be Blood"

2008-01-28T10:46:00.000-05:00

I can tell you honestly that since having seen Rambo on Friday evening, my voice has dropped an octave and my chest is twice as hairy. Unfortunately my hands remain the size of a 12 year old girl's. This second wave of puberty was obviously the result of seeing the goriest, most violent movie of my life. Without hesitation, I proclaim this is the most violent main-stream movie of all time. The original rating was set at NC-17 but after some strategic editing, the film was able to limbo under the R rating.

Sylvester Stallone looks a little aged in this one, but he's still ripped and maintains his keen ability to kill everything in sight. I would, however, rate his acting to be the worst of his career, not that he ever set the bar too high. You barely ever hear him complete a full sentence longer than three words. I am sure all of his intelligent statements were drowned out in the deafening blaze of 50 caliber gunfire. I will give him some credit. He wore the hats of director, producer, writer, actor and I am sure primary financier. No wonder he needs steroids. Sly is obviously overworked.

Back to the reason anyone went to see this film...violence.

Good luck trying to tally up a body count in the latest John Rambo chronicle. Even if you could count that fast, you'd be too distracted by the body parts flying mid-air. Corpses don't just spray a little blood here and there, they explode. I almost feel more educated in the area of human anatomy as I have now seen every organ (fully intact) darting across the big screen.

Having said all of this, I dare say this is a must-see (or must-rent) for the soul fact that I cannot put into words the horror and doom captured in this 90 minute blood bath. Girls, don't see it. Guys, don't take girls with you to see it. Nobody female or under the age of 15 should see this movie under any circumstances.

What really pissed me off: 15 minutes and 4 dozen deaths into the film, I witnessed a mother carrying a screaming 4 year old out of the theatre. The majority of the audience happen to see this too and some even started booing. I about called social services on that mother-of-the-year.

Rambo uses every means possible to off bad-guys: Guns, big guns, big-ass guns, knives, bow and arrow, mines, home-made sword, WWII Bombs, and of course his bare hands (depicted most vividly when he rips out an unsuspecting guard's Adam's Apple). While the needless slaying kept me smiling at the screen, there were moments where even I had to avert my eyes. Women and children get slaughtered in this one as well, making it that much harder to suffer through.

This is more of a rant than a review, but I am not really sure what else to say. No Plot. All Death. I can't even decide if I liked it or not. I have been raped of my innocence and will never be the same. God help us all!

When College Just Doesn't Work Out: A Review of Waiting

2008-01-24T16:56:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I'll just be driving along, going to Walgreens to buy some RU-486 because the condom just broke, or going to buy some Gatorades because my hamstrings are in knots, and I'll see an Applebee's. Or I'll see a Bennigan's. And then I'll think of Waiting, a movie I saw first in the summer of '06. Immediately, my appreciation for these places will quadruple. For I see them not for what they are--a workplace for the rabble and a dining venue for those without taste--but or what they could be--a subculture brimming with quirks, deviance, and fun.

Shenanigans--the locus of the movie's activity--is such a place. It is the paradigmatically mediocre American eatery, stuck awkwardly between fast-food joints and true fine dining. As with all half-measures, it fails miserably, but this failure can entertain anyone cynical enough to accept it for what it is and laugh. And the waiters are indeed cynical. They realize that they are not flourshing--no eudaimonia is to be had in their line of work. But who is to complain? When work is done, they can live for the orgasm and the bong hit, forget their sorrows at the nightly staff-only parties. And when at work, they can continue their hedonism in all sorts of ways. For example: flashing their dicks at fellow employees (in all sorts of configurations: the bat wing, the brain, etc.), insulting each other, putting pubic hair on the food of rude customers. The list goes on, and with it, the fun, right up until closing time.

Are there any flaws? Perhaps. I am undecided whether this is a flaw or merely a curiosity, but in any case, it wants for explanation. Most of the employees are suffering from some obvious personality flaw, or simply not enough intelligence, or maybe weakness of will, and that is what keeps them in their rut. Dean (played by Justin Long, the Mac guy) has no such problems--he is ambitious, intelligent, and has good character--and at the end of the film we see him move ahead with his life. But Monty, who is just as smart, if not smarter, and just as resouceful, remains stuck in his ways at the end of the film, and there is not even a hint that he will improve his lot. Is this some tacit argument against determinism? I leave that weighty question to the viewer.

Critics of Cloverfield: Chumps with Keyboards Need to Just SHUT UP

2008-01-22T15:14:00.000-05:00

**look out for spoilers**
Yeah, I saw Cloverfield. What’s it to you?

Nowadays everyone’s got an opinion of everything, and because of the internet they can tell everybody who’ll listen what they think. Ahh, you say, this is delicious irony coming from a BLOG—that infamous vehicle for spouting ill-researched, misspelled and often unnecessary views of everything under the sun. Agreed. I don’t have all the answers. But I do believe there’s a tendency to destroy everything around us in an attempt to make ourselves feel better—and at least I spell things kerectly.

Let’s take Cloverfield, for example. I saw it on Friday. I still don’t know what I think. There were moments in the movie I couldn’t separate myself from the feeling that I was actually there, terrified, and gape-jawed like a redneck at a tractor pull. It just hit me in such a personal way that I don’t think I can separate myself from it. Maybe it’s because I used to date a chick named Elizabeth who lived in NYC, and I have a brother I’m very close with. Or maybe it was the copious amount of whiskey I happened to catch in my mouth during the movie, but either way I don’t know what I would do if I was in the position of the film’s hero, Rob. Though I can safely say I would flip out a helluva lot more than he did if anything ever happened to my brother. But the main point is… I still don’t know what to think about this whole film, because while 80% of it touched and terrified me, the last 20% left me not just nonplussed, but completely disheartened.

**Spoilers Begin**
At heart this is a disaster movie and a tragedy—that is, until the monster starts actively hunting down our originally innocuous heroes. I was totally into the film until the creature lashed out and hit the helicopter—I mean are you kidding me? The whole film the giant thing is preoccupied with scrambling willy-nilly around the city, and finally at the end he takes a personal interest in Hud, it seems, who “taunts” the monster and subsequently gets plucked from the sky and then eaten!? That’s where an indie-inspired idea turns completely Hollywood, and bells go off in my head saying Schlock Schlock Schlock! Apparently the writers decided that the 3rd act of the film should completely ignore the thematic and stylistic “realism” of the first 2 acts. Sad. It really had me until then. All my other complaints in it are completely personal (NOT ROB AND BETH noooooo!)
**Spoilers End**

Personal history, inebriation, and stylistic choices aside, it was a well executed thrill ride that really delivered on its promise of mayhem—if you can get past the barfematography, which I think really varies on your age. I have the feeling the older you get (and less experienced with video games you are) then the worse you’ll fare. Which I think is a really brave directing choice considering you’re undoubtedly going to alienate a lot of your audience. Also, the preformances were fantastic. The 4 young actors in the film did such a good job of being "realistic" that there were times you just forget you're watching a movie. So kudos to that, but that’s of course only my opinion…

And this brings me back to everyone on the internet with some sort of judgment on Cloverfield. Here’s a great, if typical comment on the film:

“And the reasons why it F*&#@ing sucks: 1. Hud 2. What the characters are doing for the entire movie makes absolutely no sense. 3. A lot of other things make absolutely no sense. 4. Nothing is resolved in the end.”

Umm, thanks, “mordochai”(if that IS your real name!) sheer film scholar brilliance right there. Well how would you feel if someone you didn’t know wrote this about you?

“And the reasons why Mordochai F*&#@ing sucks: 1. Him 2. What he writes online makes absolutely no sense. 3. A lot of other things make absolutely no sense. 4. Nothing is added to the world by his existence.”

Just because we enjoy freedom of speech here in America doesn’t mean that everyone has something to say. Or, that I should be subjected to your ignorant, stereotypical, angry, pointless, profane, misguided, selfish, self-centered, misspelled and nonsensical ramblings. Hey random internet opinionaters, here are a few suggestions for the future:
-Spell check what you’re writing and make sure it makes sense.
-Don’t speak to me like I’m your friend (I’m not) or that I know exactly what you’re talking about.
“man tha thing was soooo dum why would you evr do hat. You know!?!”
Hmmm… You’re right. I agree 100%. You’re an idiot.
-Also, if you’re one of the many crazies who flood the internet with bullshit about9/11 Truth, warnings of the end of the world, Reptillian shape shifters, UFOs, or any other of the many conspiracy theories out there… PLEASE come up with a better motto than “Wake up to the TRUTH!” Because that just sounds like a Folder’s Coffee commercial and it doesn’t make sense. Oh, and drink sea-water while punching yourself in the face because you’re a waste of everyone’s time and the world would be better off without you.
But seriously,
CLOVERFIELD IS REAL, ITS ACTUALLY HAPPENING, THE WORLD WILL EXPLODE. WAKE UP PEOPLE!

Y’know… that’s actually kind of fun. In a societal-masochistic sort of way.

Make up your own mind about the film. I still haven't.

Jason Statham Defies Death, Unfortunately

2008-01-21T16:55:00.000-05:00

I am guessing the answer is no (and rightfully so) but did anyone have the incredible misfortune of seeing "Crank" in theatres or on DVD? If so, my condolences to you and your family. This movie was a marathon suckfest from beginning to end that left audiences begging for their 90 minutes of life back. The plot was one-dimensional, the writing must have been done by a 13 year old with ADHD and the closest thing to a redeeming quality was the fact that Amy Smart was in it. For those of you living blissfully ignorant of this Tinsel-Town-Turd, let me catch you up to speed. Statham plays an assasin who is injected with a poison that will kill him unless he keeps his heart rate up and adrenaline pumping through his body. Naturally, our hero (?) speeds around town doing anything and everything to stay alive, namely having public intercourse (this is where Smart because briefly important) with dozens of intrigued Asians watching. Statham dies in the end. *SPOILER ALERT!*

....Oh shoot, was I suppose to put the spoiler alert before I say what happens at the end? Sorry, folks! Trust me, you're not missing out. I just saved you from flushing your time and money down the toilet. But I am not writing to warn you about a movie that's been out for a while now. I am writing to warn you of its sequel due out in 2009. Yes, their making a sequel.

And here's the troubling and confusing thing, my friends: Jason Statham is in it, playing the same guy. Apparently in his movie contract Statham has a Jesus clause that allows his characters to come back to life and carry on making horrible movies. I thought at first that this could be a prequel but then I read the plot blurb on IMDB:

"Chelios (Statham) faces a Chinese mobster who has stolen his nearly indestructible heart and replaced it with a battery-powered ticker that requires regular jolts of electricity to keep working."

It can't be a prequel because in the original, Statham has a very real heart (depicted using special effects). How do they plan on explaining this one? I, for one, look forward to finding out. Maybe I am overanalyzing, but that's kind of our job on this site.

DISCLAIMER: I will shout from the rooftops that I am a Jason Statham fan. He's my borderline man-crush. He was great in Snatch, The Italian Job and even The Transporter. Plus, if you read his recent spread in Men's Health magazine, you'll understand how hard this guy works to stay ripped and healthy. As I start to watch my hair line receed, it's good to know that balding men can still kick ass AND get the girl.
...having said that, allow me to retitterate not seeing Crank or Crank 2:High Voltage. 2007-2008 will be a dark time for Statham. He's churning out box-office bombs faster than Al Qaeda. Don't worry Jason, I still love you.

The Ultimate Girl Movie: A Review of Atonement

2008-01-17T00:13:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: I did not view this film to the end; I had to leave the theater to ice my knee. Furthermore, I watched it with my ex-girlfriend as sort of a last official date (we broke up the next day [fair warning, ladies!]). Therefore, my perception of the movie may be somewhat tainted. What the following review lacks in accuracy, I hope to make up for with entertainment.

I don't want to give away too much, but I will say this much: this film is absolutely full of sexual references and images, but without in the least bit being sexy. Indeed, it removes almost all hope of arousal by dropping the C-Bomb on numerous occasions (the C-Bomb is a word). And the flirting and foreplay is very difficult for a contemporary young man to appreciate, especially the epistolary flirtations. The closest thing we have, I suppose, is Facebook messaging, and even that is not good enough. In short, the romance of the film, from start to finish, does not resemble in any way the sort that the virile contributors to this blog know firsthand.

Another thing about the film, difficult to appreciate, is that the only sexual encounter between the two lovers for years is a period of intercourse lasting about 30 seconds and interrupted by a nosy child. They refer to it later as a momentous act. Perhaps in antiquity it could have such importance, but to a modern male viewer, it seems a flimsy basis for any continued love, more a reason to scorn the male protagonist of the film than sympathize with him.

Why can’t we kill the 80’s?

2008-01-15T13:58:00.000-05:00

Hey Generation X… MOVE ON!
(and ok I know Speed-Racer's from the 60's... but the point is the same... read on)

I recently stumbled upon this website the other day, and I believe it was the last straw in convincing me that everyone over 25 is trying to culturally drag us back into the 80s, or at least any time period before 1990. This conspiracy goes much father than a simple t-shirt that says “Hey! I watched Thundercats, which means I want you to think that I don’t care what you think of me, so that must mean I’m cool.” No no no. Its much more sinister…

Allow me to explain how this works…
There’s general consent among everyone nowadays, that retro = cool. And granted, Top Gun is sweet, and the music is so gay its manly, and playing volleyball in aviators and daisy dukes with your guy friends while spurning the wearing of shirts is ok because its retro—but then again the definition of retro is that its cool because its old. Any shirtless tool playing volley ball and listening to “Playing With The Boys” who hasn’t seen Top Gun is instantly 40% more creepy and 70% more gay than those who’re doing it because it’s a funny reference. Same percentages apply for singing “You’ve lost that loving feeling” in a karaoke bar.

Nowadays we’ve got something worse going on: Retro Remakes that attempt to update old plots for the sake of garnering new audiences. Its like musicians covering the old classics…only the best way to describe this new phenomenon in films is, Recycling.

So if you think I’m making a big deal out of nothing, here’s a giant list for your reading enjoyment of recent and upcoming films and TV shows with original ideas over 20 years old:
Cartoons:
Transformers, TMNT, Speed Racer, Dragonball Z, Garfield, Alvin and the Chipmunks, GI Joe, Scooby Doo, Justice League (aka Super Friends)
TV Shows:
Knight Rider, American Gladiators, Bionic Woman, Starsky and Hutch, Star Trek, Miami Vice
Action/Horror:
When a Stranger Calls, The Wicker Man, Conan, Rambo, Rocky Balboa, Indiana Jones, Amytyville Horror, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Hills Have Eyes, Planet of the Apes
Combinations:
Aliens Vs. Predator, Freddy Vs. Jason

I know proven ideas make money, which is why sequels always do better than the original, even when they’re terrible. But this is much more than that. Are Studios so over-run with 30 somethings trying to relive their Saturday morning cartoon memories that they’re willing to subject us to live action versions of ALL OF THEM? Can’t wait for Snorks, Heathcliff, Thundercats, Smurfs and Carebears. Does anyone realize this is going too far!? Does anyone except fanboys really think a Speed Racer, Dragonball Z, GI Joe or Justice League movie will actually be good?

Just kill me now if all my generation will be able to come up with is remakes of Pokemon and Power Rangers.

Top Ten Best Damn Man Movies of the Past 50 Years

2008-01-14T23:40:00.000-05:00

The following flicks are not for the faint of heart. They cannot and will not ever be appreciated by the fairer sex (I am talking about women, idiots). They may show up on network television but half of the dialogue is dubbed over and half the footage sits on the cutting room floor thanks to the good ol’ folks at the FCC. And that’s why we like them.

They are the opposite of “Chick Flicks”. For our purposes, we will call them “Dick Flicks”; movies that put a smile on your face and hair on your…knuckles. I’m not just talking about action movies – anything remotely macho is fair game. While a high body count is not required, it is highly encouraged and gratuitous nudity is always a bonus.

Without further delay, let me give you a countdown of my top ten. I am not saying the list I write is gospel, albeit pretty damn close. You have the right, and are encouraged to refute, rearrange and supplement the list. The important thing is that we bask in the eternal glory that is PURE CINEMATIC TESTOSTERONE.

#10 Total Recall
Arnold at his finest with plenty of violence to go around and awesomely bad special effects. Long story short: Interplanetary conspiracy taking place on Mars. Arnold takes it upon himself to save a deformed mutant race from running out of Oxygen while uncovering his erased identity.

#9 Octopussy
Okay, really I could have mentioned any of the James Bond movies (except the ones with Timothy Dalton and most of the ones with Roger Moore) but with a title like this, do I really have to explain myself? 007 bags more tail than Ted Nugent.

#8 Reservoir Dogs
Tarantino gets close in a lot of movies but rarely goes all the way. Black suites and shades have never looked so cool. And we’re talking a lot of blood. The best part of this one is that despite the exhaustive use of the F-word, the dialogue is still clever.

#7 The Wild Bunch
Not a whole lot of people under the age of 30 appreciate this movie. It is one of the original dirty Westerns. Bullets fly and bodies fall. This ain’t no Lone Ranger. If you want a history lesson on what shaped the genre to this very day, rent this one.

#6 The Big Lebowski
Dude, if you haven’t seen this movie, stop reading this blog right now and go ask a troop of boy scouts to kick you in the nuts. Funny, quotable and cool. Jeff Bridges makes being middle-aged, overweight, single and broke seem like the pinnacle of existence. Macho bonus elements: drug usage and bowling.

#5 Full Metal Jacket
If you’re thinking about joining the army, I’d watch this one and think again. It’s a guy movie –yes- but this one makes us all feel like little girls. How’s this for a plot point?: Imagine being pinned down while a dozen of your bunk-mates beat your senseless with socks full of bar soap.

#4 The Terminator
I hate to risk being cliché, but it doesn’t get any manlier than man vs. robot from the future.

#3 Die Hard
Bruce, please keep pumping these out until the day you die! I mean, the death toll in this movie isn’t even all that high, but killing a Russian is worth like three normal deaths. Terrorism is brought to light in this one, in a sky-scraper no less. I am assuming all NYC cops are this tough. As an added bonus, we see Carl Winslow in a supporting role minus Steve Erkel.

#2 Dirty Harry
The hand-cannon alone in this one merits a nod in my top ten. On top of that, Clint…I’m sorry…Mr. Eastwood spits out one of the most widely recognized lines in movie history. Anybody want to guess what that line is. This flick was way more successful than it’s Spanish counterpart, Dirty Sanchez.

#1 Scarface
Say Hello to my lil’ friend! Idolized by rap stars and pro athletes everywhere, I give you the crème de la crème of guy movies. Al Pacino sits atop a mountain of Cocaine with a machine gun taller than himself. Not the best-shot motion picture of all time, this film makes up for it with ruthless organized crime that inspired Grand Theft Auto – the game where you can actually buy a hooker, do the hooker, kill the hooker and get your money back. I actually looked on some other lists of guy movies and this seems to be a popular pick for the top spot. That isn’t by chance.

And for the record, I don’t want to hear any crying about the fact that the Godfather movies didn’t make the cut.

And the Best Holiday Film of 2008 goes to... AVP:R

2008-01-10T18:03:00.000-05:00

After long and thoughtful deliberation on the subject, taking into account the irrepressible whimsy of such blockbusters as Fred Clause and Christmas in Wonderland, I have concluded that there is only one film capable of truly expressing the joy of the holiday season - Alien versus Predator: Requiem. Yes, you heard me. What better way to put the spirit of the former year to rest than with a cinematic masterpiece, a true requiem (from the Latin requies, for ‘rest’) for 2007? Still unconvinced? Clearly you needed to see the movie on Christmas day, sandwiched in between two overweight 30 somethings, each pod-casting live their alternate endings for final chapter of their newest fan-fic crossover, “Predator versus a Cylon basestar: a Galactica whodunit!” I hadn’t felt so misty eyed since Miracle on 34^th Street.

But before we get too off topic, let’s examine some of the comparative symbolism that defines the films rightful place in this season of giving and peace. There may be some spoilers to follow, however, I don’t believe it is possible to spoil this film:

1) “Away in a manger…” –

This theme of Jesus’ lowly birth, laid in a manger and wrapped in swaddling clothes, is clearly paralleled through the scenes of forced implantation and subsequent rapid gestation of Predalien larvae in the local hospital’s maternity ward. A beautiful scene, and one in service to the true nature of Christmas.

2) Spirit of generosity –

This idea of uninhibited munificence is represented throughout the film, as many of the characters, young and old, rich and poor, are subject to indiscriminate, and often delightfully unexpected, attacks from alien face-huggers.

3) The excitement of opening unexpected gifts –

The generosity of the face-huggers does not go unappreciated however, as the subjects of their warm embrace always awaken (no doubt to their delight) to the surprise of an alien chest-burster tearing through their sternum with a hiss of glee!

4) Time with that special someone –

Family aside, the holidays are always a time to spend with that special someone you hold so close to your heart. When in doubt, just take a lesson from AVP:R! Sneak into the local high school’s pool and seduce a hot teenage actress. Watch out for her ex-boyfriend though, he might have followed you there!

5) The joy of a dazzling light display –

Five words: Dual Shoulder-Mounted Plasma Cannons.

I’ll bet the Predators have the loveliest Christmas trees.

What a beautiful time of the year. Clearly Jesus had this movie in mind when was born.

-The Brisket

Not since My Girl has female youth been so sexy: A Review of Juno

2008-01-09T21:53:00.001-05:00

There's something beautiful about a pregnant 16-year-old—something that screams fertility and evolutionary fitness—which, when combined with proof of her intelligence and doe-eyed innocence, is enough to make the honest man bare his teeth and shout to Eros. I was in a theater in Gadsden, AL when I saw such a female, and so I politely refrained from shouting. Her name is Juno, and she lives in the world of fiction, out of my reach forever.

The plot is simple: Juno gets fucked. Juno gets pregnant. But she is too young to beget a child, says Middle Class America. Or is she? Doing what most females don't have the courage to do, Juno decides to beget the child and give it up for adoption. The couple she chooses—upper-middle-class white bread residing in the exurbs—is portrayed to near perfection. And everything goes smoothly until the husband of the couple wisens up. If, being a man, you were presented with an infertile woman in the dusk of youth, on the one hand, and a demonstrably fecund lass on the other, which one would you choose? Right. And what happens if the 2nd place woman learns of your preference? Right. Darwinism and morality go to war in this incredibly scientific depiction of the Battle Between the Sexes.

But there is one glaring flaw in the otherwise theory-consisent film: the guy who impregnates Juno, Paulie Bleeker (played by Michael Cera), is the consummate beta-male. Indeed, that gives him too much credit—Paulie is a delta. He is weak, timid, and far from mesomorphic. And so it a mystery why Juno falls in love with him. Even more of a mystery is that Juno is the first to confess her love. This extremely vulnerable move is something that the female sex has cunningly learned to avoid. To quote H.L. Mencken: "They never acknowledge that they have fallen in love, as the phrase is, until the man has formally avowed the delusion, and so cut off his retreat; to do otherwise would be to bring down upon their heads the mocking and contumely of all their sisters." But these errors can be forgiven, and the movie is worth seeing.

Nic Cage is Pro Creationism

2008-01-08T12:17:00.000-05:00

This has been a long time coming. Nic Cage is the missing link in proving the DE-evolution of society. His career deftly proves that with age doesn't come experience, good taste, or larger frontal lobes in the cerebral cortex. He is... a hairy dinosaur, so-to-speak.

That having been said, Nicholas Cage is not the worst actor ever, as many have argued. He is simply a mediocre actor with the worst judgment ever.
(Best mustache ever?)

Nic “Who spells Nic like that? and I’m actually a Coppola” Cage has managed to further and further degrade himself by taking the term Hollywood Schlock to higher and more dizzyingly fetid heights.

Allow me explain by introducing you to the Adaptation theory of Cageationism. Though the mythic Cage has gone through many a terrible movie role, they can all be categorized chronologically into three exponentially deteriorating epochs: The Vegas Age, The Age of Fire, and The Age of the Shitstorm—which was unfortunately caused by Spike Jones’ Adaptation.

But let us start at the beginning:
And Lo, the Coen Brothers said, let there be Raising Arizona. And it was good. And then Nic Cage begat Honeymoon in Vegas, Leaving Las Vegas, Con Air, and Snake Eyes. And it was not good.

Thusly, we enter Nic Cage’s first epoch of terrible movie choices: The Vegas Age. As a young up and comer with a powerful Hollywood uncle, Cage began to make a name for himself, etching out his already pre-ordained star on the Hollywood boulevard by advertising himself as the Elvis loving, Vegas residing, White Trash star of the 90’s. Unfortunately this first, and best Epoch lasted only a decade and indeed, overflowed into the Age of Fire, which appeared after The Rock.

Nic’s first collaboration with legendary director and killer-of-everything-good, Michael Bay turned out to be a huge success… Much to the surprise of Cage himself who attempted to sink the film by acting like the biggest whining, high-pitched, self-involved Douchebag with a hot fiancée in the extensive history of Douchebags with hot fiancées. It is from this film that one Cageationist spawned the: “Every Terrible Hollywood Blockbuster Could Be Made Exponentially Worse If Nic Cage Is In It” theory, which of course launched a thousand speculations—Superman, Transformers, Armageddon, King Kong…

The Age of Fire produced Con Air, Face/Off, Gone in Sixty Seconds and curiously Captain Corelli’s Mandeline—which had just enough slow motion birds to be classified as “Possibly a John Woo flick”.1 However, these movies were often actually very entertaining and even contained the legendary “Crazy Face.” Which, as you can see... is certifiably crazy. If only it counted as acting.

But the defining moment in Cage’s career came from a movie that defied logic in its brilliance. Heretofore Cage + A Movie = Bad. However in Adaptation, a movie which stars not just one, but TWO Nicholi Cages, meant that oddly Cage + Cage + A Movie = Good. However, Adaptation was SOOO good, that it forced the fearless Cage to destroy any whisper of artistic sense within him by making a slew of movies so bad, they can only be described as Shittastical.

Thus begins the Age of the Shitstorm, in which Cage seemed to be making career choices motivated by self loathing. His masterpieces during this Epoch include National Treasure, The Ant Bully, The Wicker Man, Ghost Rider, Next, NT:2 Book Of Secrets and of course a slew of commercials aired only in Asia.2 These films are so bad, they can only be enjoyed when re-cut into tiny bits.3

So what does the future look like as this new Age of Shitstorm rages on? Well, Cage is scheduled to appear in the upcoming animated flick, “G-Force” as the voice of “Speckles.” IMDB Describes the possible plot of this movie as following: “A specially trained squad of guinea pigs embarks to stop a diabolical billionaire from taking over the world.” I, for one, cannot wait.

1. I dare you to find a John Woo movie that doesn’t have doves flying in slow motion . Seriously. Maybe Broken Arrow, but I haven’t seen it in a while. I DARE YOU. WHAT IS HIS DEAL!?
2. See also, THIS ONE, and of course THIS ONE, and lest we forget… THIS ONE
3. And on a purely editorial note, Ghost Rider is not worth watching even to make fun of.

Chuckabee: Roundhouse Kick to the Face of the 2008 Election

2008-01-07T14:40:00.000-05:00

If you were a Fundamentalist-Baptist Minister-Governor lagging in the poles among the GOP presidential hopefuls, what would you do to turn things around? You could hire a celebrity to endorse your campaign, right? But who would pack enough punch to take the Iowa Caucas and help gain swing votes on the east coast. Chuck Norris, that's who.
Just the mere mention of his name could theoretically get anyone into office, even a bigot. What about his appeal makes the most unelectable candidates frontrunners? Perhaps these will sound familiar:

There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris's computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.

Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird.

Chuck Norris does not get frostbite. Chuck Norris bites frost

Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.

Chuck Norris is not hung like a horse... horses are hung like Chuck Norris.

Before statements like these became famous amoung teenagers and young adults nation-wide, Chuck Norris was known more for his heart-pounding, death-delivering, slow walking action movies on the big screen (and late night TNT). Perhaps his ass-kickingest film to date, The Delta Force (1986), showed us the softer side of Chuck, which in fact is not soft at all. If you haven't seen it, rent it or look for it in the $5 DVD bin at Walmart.

Chuck grew tired of film and soon set his sights on telvision and fitness infomercials. Walker, Texas Ranger became even more famous once Conan Obrian adopted showing clips as a common bit for his show. The movies, however, will always serve as the foundation of the house that Chuck built.
Granted, Chuck Norris is known for his strong religious convictions, but I assure you that Huckabee chose Chuck (I'm sorry, I mean Chuck chose Huckabee) because of his place among pop-culture icons today. Chuck sits atop a mountain of joke icons (Hassellhoff, Michael Jackson, Britney Spears just to name a few) and reigns supreme. For Christmas I bought my brother a book of Chuck Norris facts, half of which refer to the magnitude and/or usefullness of his penis. But of course, Holy Huckabee has no knowledge of that. Right. Far Right.

So when you head to the polls to cast your vote ask yourself this: Do you want a president with solid international policy experience and a thoughtful healthcare plan, or do you want a guy who is always within punching distance of THE Chuck Norris. God Bless America. Chuck Bless American, too.

When Amish Kids Go Crazy: A Review of The Devil's Playground

2008-01-02T13:45:00.001-05:00

It was a typical college party: beer pong, shiver-inducing games of Never Have I Ever, and mono-infected kisses. There I was, discussing the ins and outs of partying with a girl who drank when someone said "Never have I ever had anal sex". I argued that Rice athletes don't party as hard as they say they do. She countered with an irrelevant but interesting claim: "Wanna know who parties the hardest? The Amish. Friend told me about this documentary. Devils, Devil's, I don't, Devil's something. Anyway, these kids go fucking crazy." I was intrigued. I had always thought of the Amish as a rather chaste and demure group, full of women whose hymens are tougher than my bag gloves and men who flog themselves for eating wine cake. And yet here was the Anal Queen suggesting that I might be wrong. I had to order it.

The Devil's Playground, directed by Lucy Walker, follows several Amish youths as they embark on Rumspringa, a period during which Amish adolescents experience the outside world (i.e. "the devil's playground") for the first time. After completing Rumspringa, which can last for several years, the Amish adolescent is able to make an informed decision about whether to remain Amish or join the damned. The documentary does a good job of showing the dilemma that they face: comfort, familiarity, and security on the one hand, opportunity, fun, and novelty on the other.

And they do indeed have fun. Unfortunately, they do not party any harder than the average frat boy. For a viewer like myself who anticipated gang bangs and intravenous drug use, there was a sharp sense of disappointment. Just binge drinking in pastures, some grab-ass. Only one guy ventures into hard drugs (he becomes a crystal meth user and dealer). The most interesting thing about the film is that they do all this while wearing traditional Amish attire. It is a most incongruous picture, seeing a bonnet-wearing lass drinking a 40.

Overall, the film is decent. For the most part, the Amish interviewees are well-spoken, offering a well-rounded picture of the Amish lifestyle, and even though they don't party like Snoop or the Anal Queen, they party hard enough to justify watching it.

The Replacements: Best Sports Movie to Date

2007-12-31T14:19:00.000-05:00

In the midst of bowl season, and with college basketball hitting full stride, I am reminded of all the great sports movies that have inspired us and taken us back to our old glory days. I ran cross country, and sucked at it, so I can't really relate to the likes of Raging Bull or Hoosiers or Rudy, but I am inspired nevertheless. I grew up on Rocky, The Sandlot and Little Giants. The Mighty Ducks trilogy intranced me to buy roller blades and hockey gear so that I could put puck-shaped dents in my garage door. "It's Knuckle Puck time!" Emelio Estevez at his finest!

But there is one sports epic that truly emulates heroec athleticism, one film that brings big heart and big names to the screen. Yes, I'm talking about The Replacement. In a nutshell, a bunch of second rate ex-football players get to play professionally because the actual pros went on strike, based on the very really tragedy that famous athletes do not make any money. One might argue its place among other flicks of its genre, but answer me this: Why else would they show it twice a day for a week on daytime TBS?

Gene Hackman must've thought "Hoosiers was a flop and a joke. I need to play a coach in a movie that has some impact on the sports world". Well coach, you succeeded.

Keanu Reeves leads his team to victory with a strong arm and even stronger acting. Playing a has-been college quarterback known for choking under pressure, Reeves (a.k.a. Falco - awesome name for a QB) is given a second chance to play. What really amazes me is how at no point during the film do you see him fall victim to helmet-hair.

To round out the start-studded cast, you have that one fat black guy from that one movie, and that other fat black guy who's been in a couple movies, and of course that one black guy. And Orlando Jones.

The story, combined with great regular cuts to the cheerleaders makes this a movie milestone to remember. The director was even able to shove more overplayed classic rocks songs into the movie than a Waffle House Jukebox. Rocky helped bring down the Berlin Wall. Blue Chips showed the sad-but-true dark side of college basketball. The Replacements showed us that if there was ever an NFL players strike, the league would reach out to convicts, sumo wrestlers and retards (Reeves) to maintain the greatness of pro football. God Bless America.

Happy New Years everyone! If you need something to do while recovering from your hangover tomorrow, rent The Replacements, Juwanna Man and Eddie for your sports movie fix.

Sex, Drugs, and Machine-Gun Kidnappings: A Review of Alpha Dog

2007-12-25T15:21:00.001-05:00

Christmas Eve is a special day of the year, a day for warm apple cider, family, and shagging your high school ex while home from school. But I fucking hate apple cider, only care for my family in an abstract way, and do not have a high school ex. Consequently, I spent the day drinking protein supplements and watching Alpha Dog, a film that—in keeping with my wishes—totally wrecked the Christmas ambience my kin so wished to maintain.

In the main, Alpha Dog consists of just three or four types of people: wiggers (this is where Justin Timberlake excels), gangsters, and hot sluts. When the gangsters are not kidnapping innocent teenage boys and thrusting them into situations shimmering with sexual possibility (more on this later), they are smoking weed, drinking, or trying to off someone. To offset the patent lack of realism that characterizes some of the scenes, the characters who witness the hostage (played by Anton Yelchin) with his captors are numbered as witnesses with on-screen text—Witnesses #x, #x+1, #x=2—to remind you that, yes, this really did happen. But once the number of witnesses exceed twenty or so, the repeated on-screen labels become annoying, and the viewer begins to wish that the director had achieved realism in better ways.

This leads me to the sex scene in the pool, the part of the movie that strained not only the bounds of my belief but also the crotch seams of my underwear. We find Zack Mazursky, the hostage, being taken to a pool by Julie (played by Amanda Seyfried from Mean Girls), the girl who has wanted Zack's nuts since she found out that he is a hostage (she thinks "That's hot."). Her slutty sidekick joins them for some skinny dipping and a tantalizing game of Marco Polo. Before long, Zack is sandwiched between them and the scene fades to black.

This is perhaps my biggest complaint. There is no need for modesty or propriety in a movie that, overall, contains enough unnecessary filth (a guy shitting on a living room floor, for instance) to make a full-blown sex-scene a mere accessory. I would have liked to see Zack engage in some Wesley-Pipes style fucking. Such a scene would have fit well with everything else in the film, and it would have been most entertaining.

If you find Christmas as boring as I found Christmas Eve, and you have access to On Demand premium channels, I recommend blowing off the holiday vibe and watching Alpha Dog. Unless, of course, you have a high school ex.

The Dark Side of the Deep South: Review of Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus

2007-12-19T05:28:00.000-05:00

As someone who has just recovered from his first taste of (toxic) Appalachian moonshine, I feel that I am well qualified to post a review that I've been meaning to write for some time: my thoughts on Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus, a BBC sponsored documentary on the Deep South. The documentary originated when some wealthy Brit received a copy of Jim White's debut album Wrong-Eyed Jesus (The Mysterious Tale of How I Shouted). Impressed with its distinctive sound, he set out to find the origin of music like this. His donations to that end spawned the documentary. Jim White himself leads the camera crew through the backwater regions of Florida, the ghostly hills of Virigina, and plenty of places in between, all the while participating in his own spiritual sojourn. The result is more than enough to make the average Connecticut Yank shit in his L.L. Bean britches.

There are basically two types of scenes in Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus: the frightening and the merely unsettling. Examples of the first sort include a woman (whose mouth seems to be rotting by the second) discuss her cancer and son's death during a respite from her job at a Jesus-freak roadside restaurant, a Pentecostal scene in which everyone is either crying or babbling in their own tongue, and a Confederate-flag wearing biker who decides, during the interview, to put a few holes in a nearby stop sign with his 1911 pistol. Falling in the latter category, we have Jim's visit to a honky-tonk (apparently in LA), in which some drunken white trash discuss the delicate relationship between sin and salvation, and the local floozy grinds against any rube who is willing to take hell in exchange for a dry hump.

This leads to perhaps my biggest criticism of the film. While the intent of the documentary is to find the origin of music like Jim White's, it quickly becomes a documentary about the Deep South in general, and therefore it shoulders the burden of providing a representative view of the South as a whole and not just its lower class. While viewing the film, I was inclined to ask: Where are the Atlanta suburbs? Where is the Southern genteel? And where the fuck are cultural icons like Charleston and New Orleans?

A related gripe is that some of the scenes (in addition to which locations are visited) are excessively contrived. At one point, Jim White seems to doctor his automobile on some country road, and while he is at work, a random old man walks up and begins to tell stories about his youth. But a little research shows that the man is not random at all, but is rather the famous Southern author Harry Crews, and the seeming happenstance of their meeting on a road turns out to be planned. Scenes like these make the viewer question the all-important authenticity of the film.

In any case, the documentary is worth a watch. While those not from the South will get the most from it, even Southerners by birth like myself can learn a few things. And we need not wear diapers while viewing.

Rambo 4 Title Contest

2007-12-17T11:11:00.000-05:00

Sylvester Stallone, while playing Bridge in his Beverly Hills retirement village, recently thought to himself, "I really f'd up the Rocky series with 'Rocky 5' and 'Rocky Balboa'. I really do have talent...somewhere. If only there was a way I could redeem myself and show everyone that I'm not really an over-the-hill, roid-pumping botox bitch. I know! I'll make another Rambo! Nurse, where are my Depends? I am heading to the studio!"

Yes, Grandpa Sly is at it again. He is creating another unneccessary end to a film series that has been stretched tighter than the skin on his cheeks (which now can be found on his forehead). Sure to be the most violent Rambo yet, the preview starts a preemptive body count to the tune of, what else, but "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor". Sigh, Sly.

To help the Italian Stallion out a little bit, I thought we could have a contest to come up with the best alternate title to the movie. Kyurious Hype and I have been working for the past half hour to come up with a few, such as:

Rambo IV: Killin' before I Die

Rambo IV: Assisted Living, Assisted Dying

Rambo IV: Thats not a roman numeral 4, he's seroiusly on an IV

John Rambo: Badass with Botox

We need your help, America! (And yes, Canada, you can play along too.) Give us some other alternative names for this turd-flick. Slyvester needs our help, first witht the movie title, and then probably helping him off the toilet. Get to it!

Javier Bardem = Long Lost Murderous Beatle

2007-12-10T14:14:00.000-05:00

So I finally found out why there’s no country for old men. Javier Bardem will MURDER you before you reach the ripe old age of 30. Basically he will murder you. That’s the gist of the Coen Brother’s new deathtacular western-noir No Country For Old Men. Long gone are the sardonic f-bomb cratered tirades of the dude, or the mustachioed purrings of our favorite Pater Familias, and even the neurotic mumblings of Barton Fink. No, this new country—bereft of old men—is simply comprised of three things: Murder, sweating and running away from being murdered, and the ramblings of a tired Golden Retriever marauding as Tommy Lee Jones. And Murder.

As much as I enjoyed the cat and mouse game between Josh Brolin and Javier Bardem (which is less cat and mouse more armored War Bear and monkey [no I won’t stop bashing the Golden Compass])… I was upset, confused and beffudencholy at the seemingly elitist and confounding ending of the film. No, no… I’m sorry ending is a harsh word. Let’s say the way the film just stopped. No closure, no explanation, no reason, just shit happened and then it stopped happening because the screen went black and the credits rolled.

Now I could’ve missed something. Maybe the projectionist switched up a reel and there was something that happened after the credits. But he didn’t, it didn’t and it was a letdown.

For the last 8 minutes of the film watching Tommy Lee Jones (or TLJ as his BFF’s call him), talk about not one but TWO dreams he had, I couldn’t help but hear the Coen Brothers laughing giddily like Knox Harrington, the video artist. They did however find a way to give Milton from Office Space his stapler--and by stapler I mean silenced shotgun and by give I mean shoot in the neck.

Now to a completely different tangent: I love Lindy West. She writes for The Stranger out in Seattle and she’s hilarious when she writes about movies. But after discovering her new-found love of Cheesecake Bites at Arby’s I’m now… perplexed, forlorn and moved to start taking up money for her inevitable double bypass. Basically eating fried Cheesecake is about as healthy as rolling in a pit of bears (armored war ones) covered in honey and meat tenderizer after eating poison and swallowing a jar of bees. Plus I hear they’re about as addictive as fried cocaine. Maybe I’ll pick up a half dozen tonight…

PS: Javier Bardem’s thinking of murder right now.

Michael Bay loves Trannies

2007-11-27T15:36:00.000-05:00

So I was on a long plane ride and finally got around to seeing the latest advertisement for America—I mean, Michael Bay flick, Transformers. It was everything I expected it to be.

-A high school romance inconceivably woven into a plot that encompasses the possible destruction of the world.
-A competent American Military defeating a nigh invincible intergalactic threat on behalf of the world.
-Computer enhanced EVERYTHING, creating lightening quick “action” only to be appreciated when you try to re-watch the film frame by frame.
-Giant Robots.
-And of course, that inevitable “No matter what happens, I just want you to know blah blah blah” moment.

Ahhh. An instant classic. It truly had me from the opening line—uttered so butterly by Optimus Prime—I knew exactly where it was going and exactly how it would end. “In the beginning there was…the cube. We know not where it came from…blah blah blah blu bling bling blah.”

You know… the cube. The Cube!? Of course… Thaaaat cube. I used to make chicken soup with that cube, but then it left this planet to start life in other galaxies and later returned as the ultimate plot device.

Hi, I’m writing a movie, this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to start off with something you’ve never heard of, and I’m going to introduce it right off the bat and slap you in the face with it so you know what it is. Then I’m going to drag you through an egregiously long and illogical plot* and then I’m going to say… hey. Remember that thing I showed you at the beginning? Well, we’re just going to use that to end the movie and basically nothing else you just watched really mattered.

But at the same time… it was so damn entertaining…

I felt like I had just sold my soul to the devil. The whole time I thought to myself… just sleep and this plane ride will go faster, when in actuality I found myself routing for Shia TheBeef and his intrepid band of loveable robots. Son of a bitch!

The moral of this story—really—is that giant robots are seductively sweet. Even if they’re unfathomably complicated and over-animated. Now… to wait 15 years until Michael Bay releases his master epic, Power Rangers…

*"So if the robots are after us, we should lead them into LA where they can do more damage!” – soldier “Good idea!” –Secretary of State Jon Voigt

Service, with a folding chair to the face

2007-11-13T16:56:00.000-05:00

I don't know if any of you have considered joining the marines, but If you haven't, you will after seeing THE MARINE produced by the WWE (World Wrestling E...nterpr...ise? Damn you World Wildlife Federation!). That's right, the WWE is now churning out films and if it's even possible to concieve, they're even more smacktacular than the XFL. In this tale that teaches us marines can throw people through glass storefronts even on the homefront, WWE wrestler John Cena, with arms the size of a bloated goat carcus, plays John Triton, ex-marine turned rent-a-cop after being honorably discharged for disobeying a direct order despite the fact that he saved the lives of 5 marine's who were being beheaded at an "Al-Qaeda outpost/barracks" in Iraq. (bwaaaa?)

"How do we get around 'em, John?" "We don't. We go through 'em" (fires shotgun slash grenade launcher into the camera).

He kills sooo many terrorists though! How can they discharge him on a technicality? Just, Marine Core. Harsh, but Just. That's how I like my America. So, not knowing what to do next, he returns home to his ridiculously attractive wife, in his oddly beautiful home and bangs her (no, not in the head with a folding chair.) I thought this movie was already perfect so far but then they blew my expectations away with an Oscar-worthy performance from former T2 T1000 (liquid-terminator) Robert Patrick as a sociopathic jewel thief. I didn't watch the entire film, but I got all I needed to know online. If you go on IMDB, you'll notice that the Plot Keywords are: Explosion/Marine/Chase/Kidnapping/Alligator.

OfCreams out. Hoo Rah.

The ADD Libs

2007-11-08T23:19:00.000-05:00

Hey guys,
Just thought this might be something this crowd would enjoy.

(Laughs Evilly)

Indy 4: The Quest for One Free Beer

2007-10-30T13:57:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, I was relaxing with a cold beer in hand debating the most important questions of modern American cinema with my long time friend Joe Bauer*; which Die Hard movie most beautifully captured the idea of the "unstrung hero", how James Cameron made much more of a statement in Total Recall then he did in Titanic, how Spaceballs is best watched on VHS, etc.

Our discussion led us down a very dark path with the very mention of the upcoming Indiana Jones installment. This little gem hits theatres in 2008 with a vengeance, much like Die Hard: With a Vengeance, only more subtle. My friend Joe and I both await the 4th chapter with eager anticipation, much like anticipation one experiences after a long car trip with lots of Kool-Aid and no bathroom breaks. As our movie-loving bladders fill to capacity and nearly rupture, there are still so many questions left unanswered. Very little info has been released about the film. Even the IMDB entry is skin and bones. What little info we can find is hardly credible so I suppose only time will tell.

Joe and I found ourselves heated and nearly wresting on the floor over one key element: Shia Labeouf. We know he is in the film and will play a pivotal role, but answer me this, bloggers: Will he play the son of Henry Indiana Jones, Jr.? I tend to think no, however my much hairier companion seems to think it is the only possibility. And in situations like these, what do two stubborn males with no money and no creativity do? We bet a beer on it.

Help me, minions of the motion picture. Perhaps those of you out there who actually paid $160 for a real brown Stetson or those who have dressed up like Indy for every Halloween since the age of 9 can put my mind at ease on this topic. I wish to drink my free beer not just for me, but for you, all of you. Hugs and Kisses.

*Joe Bauer is in no way related to Jack Bauer.

Glad I don't live there...oh wait...

2007-10-11T17:07:00.000-04:00

These things have been on TV where I live lately... Before reading your post get caught up on this demeaning, ignorant, and confounding ad campaign to come live in Louisville, Ky...

For your viewing pleasure might I suggest... Ohio, Dallas and LA. They seem to insinuate that
1) People from Ohio want to come to Louisville to meet women with tattoos on their ass (Might as well be a bulls eye)
2) Louisvillians who want to move to LA will make their parents cry.... WHAT!?
3) Black, gay men in Dallas who like tofu will be accepted in Louisville... Hmm... Its still in the south last time I checked, this might be a hard sell...

I didn't see how I could let this aggression stand, man. I fired back:

Dear Anonymous PR guy at Share Louisville,

I have to say, I'm a born and raised
Louisvillian, and these commercials are embarrassing.

A young man from Ohio wants a girl with a tattoo on her butt?
A girl moving to LA isn't going to be recognized for her intellect, but her bra size?
A man in Atlanta is dying because there aren't any hospitals there, and too much traffic?
A man in Dallas wants to be able to shout "I eat TOFU" from the steps of the
JUSTICE BUILDING!? What!?

Honestly I think we can sell ourselves a lot better by playing up our strengths rather than the weaknesses of other cities. And by strengths I mean actual STRENGTHS and not advertise
that we have cheap tattooed girls here who also happen to be appreciated for
their intellect (which, by the way... is a lie).

YES there are
great jobs here
YES there are fun things to do
YES the city could use an
influx of smart, creative, young people.

But seriously, a bunch of
slo-mo, sob-story, obnoxious, and down right embarrassing commercials will not
get the job done. I know they say any PR is good PR, but... Hey, when
you make us look like idiots, we're the ones who have to live with
it.

Yours Truly,
Not-so anonymous guy, who happens to
be young, smart, creative, has a great job, loves Louisville, tattoo-free,
appreciated for his intellect, has access to hospitals, but sits in traffic in
the morning, hates tofu, and secretly wants to move to LA.
Waa waa wee wah! What the hell are these people thinking!? Who thought this was a good idea? There's been a lot of arguments that these run in the same vein as John Stewart or the next to godly Stephen Colbert... I have to say... I don't get that comparison at all. Let's look at what's supposed to be funny in these ads and see if it makes any sort of important or original commentary... The Ohio ad seems to make fun of Louisville more than small towns, and every single ad seems to forget the fact that people are usually extremely proud of where they come from. Ancestarally or otherwise. So when you completely trash where they come from... you look desperate to get anyone to come to your city. This ad is exemplary of what people inside the box seem to think belongs on the outside. Its not clever, its not funny, and I still fail to see the point. Whatever, this ain't a single's town anyhow... time to blow this popsicle stand.

Welcome, Suckers.

2007-10-03T11:44:00.000-04:00

And so it was…

Hey, Director! is thus born by a small group of recent college grads, divided by geography, but united by their collective love of trashing and reveling in terrible movies. Our Ethos: To tear down those poorly conceived pieces of trash that fall conspicuously like turds in the sewer of pop culture (oh, and defend the ones we like).

This is how you know YOU will enjoy this blog…

YOU were the one who predicted Samuel L. was 30 seconds from being jawed by a Gumby-looking CGI shark while standing next to the unexplained “pool” in that illogical, banana-ram-bonanza known as Deep Blue Sea.

YOU mailed Joel Schumacher anthrax after he utilized an iMovie trick by just reversing footage in Batman and Robin to make it look like Robin was drowning…(it was really just swallowing Chris O’Donnell AND Alicia Silverstone’s career).

It was YOU who brazenly placed Uwe Boll's carcass-storm of a film, House of the Dead in your queue on Netflix, immediately regretting it after realizing A) you were watching a film based off a video game that people play in theater arcades while waiting to go see a REAL movie and 2) all of the zombies in the flick were gifted with conveniently placed springboards…even in a topless teen ridden forest…

And YOU breathed a sigh of relief when Guillermo del Toro unleashed Pan’s Labyrinth , because all of its critical acclaim somehow legitimized your secret, tongue-in-cheek attraction to Hellboy and its chatty, Russian half-zombie (“If I had leg’s I’d kick your ass”).

So as founder and contributor to this beautiful new blog, I’d like to say, as humbly and quietly as possible (because who’s reading this? honestly)—LET’S MAKE THIS SHIT EPIC!! I believe our next step will be to add Carmina Burana blaring on our home page….