Review - Terminator: Salvation

It's been nearly a year since I abandoned this blog, the last post being a review of Lost Boys: The Tribe. To be honest I really had no plans on going back here because reviewing movies is a very boring and uninspiring enterprise. I don't have much fun writing and I'm sure the one person who stumbles over here won't have much fun reading it. But I felt compelled to make a post after seeing the monstrosity that is Terminator Salvation so maybe I can just warn the people of earth of the horror that lies within. So much that I wish I could travel to the past about a couple of months and tell everyone about the oncoming disaster in advance. But much like Kyle Reese from the first film, I don't think anyone will believe my ranting about the future atrocities. Especially if they find me naked in an alleyway.

But first, let's be fair. I was looking forward to this movie. I think what got me excited was seeing a subway poster featuring an endoskeleton sporting a kickass mini-gun. I thought to myself, "Whoa, I've never seen them using a mini-gun before!" That image got me all amped up for some intense battle scenes with endless armies of endoskeletons and the few but dedicated members of the resistance taking them on valiantly. Basically, I was looking forward to a feature-length version of the opening scenes of the first two movies. But instead we have what is essentially Transformers 1 1/2 with a little bit of Blade Runner thrown in for good measure.

Again, to be fair, let's mention the good. First, Anton Yelchin steps up big time as Kyle Reese. His character has a good progression, starting in the beginning as a new character and ending as someone that looks quite familiar, right down to the choice of firearm. You can definitely see a young fighter turning into a hardened warrior throughout the film. Second, as cheesy as they were, I enjoyed the numerous references to the first films. It was fun to see that John Connor is still a big GNR fan, but I can't help but wonder why he would bring a boombox to a cyborg fight? There's also a great little pseudo-cameo at the end that the audience in the theater got a kick out of. Third, I suppose I should note that the special were fairly cool. The occasional appearances of non-CGI terminators was good to see, but I didn't understand why they had to be all dirty and weathered instead of the ultra-cool chrome grim reaper image we all know and love.

Now, the bad. I'll try to keep this short, but I promise nothing. The biggest problem I had with this film was Christian Bale's performance. Clearly, the man was hired purely as a name-brand thanks to the Dark Knight, and that's pretty much what we get. Every time he was on the screen as John Connor, I couldn't help but laugh as he delivers all of his lines with a slightly less intense variation on that stupid Batman voice. Here we have an actor who is clearly not invested in his role at all and just going through the motions. Mr. Bale is still a very young actor and it's strange to see him sleepwalk through a role the way present-day Robert DeNiro would. But I guess it wouldn't be fair to put all of the blame on Bale. The action scenes are pretty sleep-inducing. But that's typical since 99.9% of them are all CGI, so there's that complete lack of identiable peril. But probably the biggest problem of this film is the same problem that plagues most of today's ultra-serious, zero-humor, gravelly-voiced action epics. Really bad story. The filmmakers were more interested in concocting CGI eye-candy scenes that look good for a trailer, they completely ignored the need to include the type of engaging storyline that made the first two films so memorable.

I could go on about all the things wrong with this movie but I'll just add one more. Helena Bonham Carter is in this. That should give you an indication of the level of quality of Terminator Salvation. This film is a huge step backwards in comparison to the first two Terminator films and in some ways even worse than the third. And I'm sure many people are saying that the film should be judged on its own merit and not compared to the originals. Well, to that I must say tough shit. If the filmmakers didn't want their film compared to the greatest sci-fi/action film ever made, then they probably shouldn't have made it as a sequel to the greatest sci-fi/action film ever made (I'm talking about T2, r-tard). Judging the film on its own merit, it's about 2 stars out of five, which most certainly does not warrant spending $12.50 for the ticket. Comparing the film to the first two Terminators, it's a solid zero stars. I'm sorry if I sound bullheaded on this, but this is the fucking Terminator series and the viewer should have high expectations for it. Especially after seeing great summer fare like Iron Man and Dark Knight, films that delivered great action along with real emotion and intellect, audiences should be able to expect more from their mindless action movies. This film is just an uninspired, sterile cycle through the action movie motions that we've all seen before and done way better. McG, you still suck.

Review - The Lost Boys: The Tribe

Lately, I've been noticing a series of subway ads around the city for that lowest common denominator show Gossip Girl. The ads display some generic photo of the hot young stars, sometimes mid-coitus, accompanied by a blurb from a negative review of the show. In true advertising slimeball fashion, they twist the review around and make Gossip Girl sound like some sort of forbidden fruit with phrases like "mind-blowingly inappropriate" or "every parent's nightmare". Therefore, when you watch Gossip Girl, you're going against the grain of traditional society and rebelling against the status quo, while at the same time playing into the hands of money-worshipping TV gods. Packaged rebellion is so tubular.

The words of a critic can be easily twisted like that. I highly doubt Roger Ebert's claims that "Chucky is one mean SOB" came from a positive review of the first Child's Play. It would probably be a good idea for critics to take extra when writing reviews, so they don't get quoted out of context to make the company's shitty movie sound like edgy counter-programming. I suggest critics consider using more profanity and scatological language in their reviews to make it perfectly clear. Here's a good example.

Gossip Girl gargles buckets full of stale donkey semen. It is the television equivalent of eating dog shit and throwing it back up again, and daring another friend to eat the regurgitated excrement. If you like this show, you're probably being molested by your uncle, and you like it.

Like poetry, no? I was thinking of writing something like "this is why other countries hate us," but even something as dishonorable as that could be made into a positive. With that in mind, let's write this negative review of Lost Boys: The Tribe.

The original Lost Boys was probably one of the best films of the 1980s. Most 80s movies can be dated by their tacky fashion, cheesy synthesizer music, and randomly out of place greasy muscle men playing saxophone, but all those things make The Lost Boys the enduring classic it has become. It also doesn't hurt that unlike most teen demographic horror films, it's got a great cast, amazing cinematography and a pitch perfect pace. Like Kill Bill, the original Lost Boys is a popcorn movie made with a copious amount of TLC. Then there's this sequel, which features a brilliant scene where Edgar Frog (a tragically underused Corey Feldman) threatening two undead surfers with a stake, causing them to speed away in the same comedic fashion used in numerous episodes of the Munsters. In place of the totally cool biker dudes clad in black leather (not to mention Alex Winter's totally awesome jacket), we have a bunch of annoying douche-nozzles who won't shut the hell up. They seem more interested in playing with video cameras and quoting The Big Lebowski than engaging in the usual vampire activities. Yes, there is a vampire that quotes The Big Lebowski. Is that scary to you? What we have here instead of mysterious teenage ghoulsters, we have frat boy vampires. Fratpires if you will.

Essentially, the story is a complete retread of the original, adding in some extra sex (an attempt to distance itself from the original film's homoeroticism?), gratuitous violence, and chop-chop editing, which has become the benchmark of modern mediocre horror films. Siblings Chris and Nicole Emerson (Emerson?) move to sleepy Luna Bay, which if you're keeping score, is not Santa Carla. Boldly dodging any attempt at character exposition in favor of getting to the good stuff, we find our heroes at a surf party which surprisingly is completely lacking in any actual surfing. Then Nicole turns into a vampire by drinking some Kiefer Sutherland's half brother's blood, then Chris fucks then kills a vampire vixen with deer antlers, who turns into stone before exploding. Then Edgar Frog shows up and says something and immediately leaves. I'm mentioning these events at such a rapid pace because this is how rushed the first act of the film is. Then for a long time nothing happens. Chris becomes a vampire at some point, there's a chase scene with the police, and finally Edgar Frog does some ass-kicking, but not enough. The movie's already over. Or is it? On the bright side, the final scene hints at a possible third chapter that could very well be much better and contain the original cast. Of course, that's wishful thinking.

This film is bad. I rented it hoping for a few good laughs and got a film that was sloppily directed, sloppily edited, and altogether poorly made. The cast is wooden as hell, and Corey Feldman could've done a lot if he had more screen time and dropped the raspy Rambo voice. Instead, he's thrown to the waste side in favor of the "hot young talent". What wood shed was Kiefer keeping his half-brother Angus? And why did he find it appropriate to let him out? And why the hell do the vampires run away in a Benny Hill-esque manner? Who is that douchebag vampire that keeps quoting Lebowski and how the hell did that awful actor get the job? This film prompted a lot of questions. The most intriguing being, what happened to gay Danzig? He used to command such a crowd back in the 80s. Now this?

In conclusion, Lost Boys: The Tribe gargles buckets full of stale donkey semen. It is the cinematic equivalent of eating dog shit and throwing it back up again, and daring another friend to eat the regurgitated excrement. If you like this movie, you're probably being molested by your uncle, and you like it.

Well I guess it wasn't THAT bad, it's not Wes Craven's Cursed bad. I did find myself rewinding back to the nude scenes if that means anything.

Review - The Dark Knight

It's already #1 on the IMDb's bullshit top 250 list, it's already made a profit of $19 million in addition to getting back its budget, and about six hours after the special midnight screenings, the dudes at work were raving about how incredibly awesome it is and how they've forgotten all about that 1989 movie with that Easy Rider dude. Now it's Monday, and I walked into a slightly less packed theater on 34th street (oh yeah, did I mention I live in Brooklyn now?) and was able to get my own glimpse at this instant phenomenon 'The Dark Knight'. But why am I writing about it? Don't we have enough glowing reviews and champions for posthumous Oscars as it is? Well, I'm writing this review because this movie answered a question. One I've been wondering about for a long time.

Leaving the theater, a few things were going through my head. There was the cool new Batman theme, my concern over how we could get further Joker tales without Mr. Ledger, and my worries that the Tim Burton's version of Batman, a fixture of my childhood circa1989, might vanish into the sands of time (hell, these days kids don't even know about Green Day's best album). But mostly, I was thinking about that gag where the Joker made that pencil disappear. Heavy.

Films like this piss me off. Films like 'The Dark Knight' and 'Iron Man' and the newest 'Incredible Hulk' infuriate me like no other. I wish they didn't exist, I wish Hollywood never greenlit them, and I wish they weren't so universally praised by critics and film-goers. And damn it, I wish I didn't love this movie so much and I wish I wasn't so glued to my seat and emotionally invested in the whole thing. Finally, I wish this film didn't justify the existence of the Hollywood system I so deeply despise ever since I learned how much Terry Gilliam had to fight to keep that downer ending in 'Brazil'.

To give the film a synopsis is like saying Hamlet is a story about revenge. The story is a vast undertaking that covers so many bases, you just have to watch and ask yourself, "how the hell are they going to get out of this one?" The story twists, turns, excites, emotes, it's all here. The writers have painstakingly explored every facet of Batman and how he works, things that were only slightly examined in the entertaining but flawed 'Batman Begins'. We also have a serious detective story. Batman doesn't just waltz into the Joker's secret lair and smack him in the face, followed by a colorful BAM! First he has to foil each of his intricately detailed terrorist schemes (really the only way to describe his schemes, he's just a psycho who loves to blow stuff up) before he can nab him. Secondly, while Batman does have an impressive array of weapons and gadgets to thrill popcorn munchers everywhere, his adventures just aren't that simple. A big theme in the film is the occasionally blurry line between between hero and villain. In one small scene, one of Gordon's fellow police officers that she sold out to the Joker because of her mother's large pile of medical bills. Where is that line? Is it okay to cross it? Even just occasionally? Are cops just gangsters with a 401k or is there something that keeps them firmly on the side of good? That one thing is pretty easy to guess, but all of our characters learn that it's harder and harder to hold onto. Never has there been a more complex and genuinely emotional superhero film.

Now lets talk about Heath's Joker. When he first died, some gossip gerties claimed that this role destroyed Heath Ledger. Others said something about Jack Nicholson warning him that the Joker role would kill him. Yeah, it was the incredibly challenging acting role, not the drugs at all. Nope. Even as a fictional character, the Joker still causes mayhem. To be perfectly honest, I saw many similarities with Ledger's portrayal and Nicholson's, only with the sadism level (and I think the masochism level, too) cranked up to eleven. He has that reckless swagger and lack of regard for human life that we all knew and loved, but his horrific actions are shown with horrific consequences. Nolan's gritty realistic take on Gotham City make his clownish nihilism all the more disturbing. With this Joker, you don't think "haha, he electrocuted that dude with his joy-buzzer." Instead, you think "holy shit, he just blew up that hospital for no reason, and he's laughing about it. Sick fuck." Unfortunately, we don't see any great uses of Joker venom or lethally electric joy buzzers, which is a bit of a shame, although I suppose the would probably have had trouble fitting it in. I don't think I'll ever be able to decide who did the Joker better, but with Ledger's loss I don't think anyone will be able to top it. That's why you have to learn to hold your liquor and drugs. Pussy.

I could go on about this movie, and the more I write, the more I'll break into cro-magnon sentence fragments or go on strange theories about the correlation between the alignment of the planets and the current translucency of the Riddler's semen. It's epic, seriously epic. Only slightly less epic than the Bill and Ted saga. You dumbass fanboys wanted your dark Batman, your ideal version of the character that you constructed in your pathetic, unimaginative head, and here it is. Here's your dark Batman. It's dark, dark, darrrrrk! It's too early to tell if this is going to be the best film of 2008 and I can't agree with people who are already saying it's the greatest film ever made and Ledger is the definitive Joker. My childhood memories of seeing Jack Nicholson with my late uncle Gene in Montana are just too strong for me to ever believe that. But yeah, it's damn good and for me it answers that question I always ask: with all these fluff movies and cinematic soma, why does Hollywood even have to exist? The answer, to make superhero movies and make them better than they've ever been.

I had read some goofball in Entertainment Tonight complaining about the Oscars and how we need some movies that everybody can get behind, critics and audiences alike. Are you happy now?

Now, I think it's my job to take my six year old nephew to see this, what with tradition and all.

Space Truckin' - Chapter 2: We Always Had a Ball on Mars

“Hey, there’s that other one, man,” said Gee.

“Which one?” The guys had some trouble identifying which planets they were zooming past. It was definitely the one with the big red spot on it and it was probably a gas planet, as Gee remembers from middle school. They were never too big on science. “You know, the one with the big red spot on it, I think it’s a gas planet.”

“I don’t know, man. I can’t remember any of that stuff.” Franky started smoking around age twelve, and while his grades in music and art quickly excelled, everything else began a steady decline. There was the month-long drought when Boo’s mother had no idea where he was, but that was it.

It had been about a good forty five minutes since the VW bus had rocked out of the Earth’s stratosphere and plunged into the deep abyss of space, far into the solar system. After identifying what that other thing that used to be a planet but for some reason got demoted, the man-thing at the wheel glanced into the side mirror and noticed something. Another starcraft was starting to gain on them fast. It was a sleek camaro style space-cruiser, cutting the air with a sonic squeal. The man-thing became nervous. He had already killed two police officers on Earth, and while the Galactic Federation deems the killing of an Earth policeman “just a little worse than littering” and at most would require a fine or a night in space jail, he certainly wasn’t prepared to get pinched for holding. The marijuana laws had become increasingly strict within the past two years, ever since the Swiners won the yearly Federation Jamboree and gained a majority of influence. Rikka Willoms Grogor, a well-known decathlete, was supposed to represent man-thing’s planet, ensuring a victory, but upon arriving at the Space Coliseum he was only greeted by a janitor’s, “Dude, that was yesterday!”

The man-thing did the only thing he could, pull the lever of the overburner and crank it up to hyper-speed. The Heshers fitted the van with it for that that purpose, although they preferred that he not use it, because they were hoping to bring it back to the store for a full refund. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to use it and the VW bus became a speck in the distance. Pluto was gone. In fact, anything the guys would find even remotely familiar was gone. They were definitely somewhere else. The endless space and stars were replaced by a sky of colored swirls and glowing smoke. Franky was becoming nervous at this point. He really wanted to pinch some of that cube as it would probably be the only thing that could calm his nerves. He reached for it, only to watch it get snatched up by the man-thing.
“That’s not for you!”

Franky was offended. “Then give us back our sixty bucks, you jerk!”

“Your money is of no use here.”

Gee whined, “Where is our bud, man?”

“There will be plenty when we land, but this isn’t yours!”

Franky wanted to know where the man-thing was taking them, but he wasn’t talking. He had to keep his focus on the voyage. Gee was doing his best to go with the flow, admiring the groovy light show in the skies. They were then approaching a planet. As they got closer and closer, they were able to make out what it looked like better. It was almost completely green with what appeared to be some kind of thick foliage, encasing the all the land. The foliage appeared as a single giant leaf atop a single thin and bending tree trunk. Among the giant monster leaf trees were smaller plump fungal formations that popped out of the ground and stood short. They were hard and rubbery and purple in color. They got closer still, and were then able to see the narrow rivers that form a lattice-network underneath the greens. Dark green-colored water slowly flowed through the rivers. As they descended closer upon the planet, Gee noticed his light-headedness was starting to increase. The air on this planet is thick and harder ingest than the oxygen on Earth. Getting closer, they gently made it through the green leafy layer that encases the entire world. Underneath the green, they saw much more. The rubbery fungi were just the tips of giant monolithic buildings that spiked up from the marshy ground. Metal and plastic doesn’t appear to be the construction material of choice for this planet. As the man-thing gains his focus of the land, he moves the course of the VW bus to a particular building. The largest building they see, it resembles an overturned cap of a mushroom, exposing the tubes and teeth of the underside. They moved right into the tubes, entering.

Upon landing, the guys followed the man-thing as he was escorted down a hall by a group of other man-things in long robes. They struggle to keep up with the gents, going through the twists and turns of the jungle-like hallways, lined with organic materials and supported with whatever their planet calls bamboo. It was hard to stay with them because of the atmosphere had still left them pretty woozy. Gee was starting to get a nosebleed and Frank was stumbling at every other step. They had no idea how much longer this was going to last, but it sure was uncomfortable and had better wrap up soon.

“Whoa, man,” Frank exclaimed as he struggles to make a turn. They came to the end of the hallway and a pair of large ornate doors, which was promptly opened by an armored guard. What lay on the other side of those doors would astound Franky and Gee for years to come. They entered the front room of what some would consider a decadent palace. The first thing they noticed was the professionally framed Budgie poster on the wall. It was high quality, not some cheap thing from the department store. The frame was actually custom made to fit the poster perfectly. Usually, Gee has extra space with his framed posters and chooses to fill in the gap with some black construction paper. Franky was particularly impressed by the nice track lighting setup they had going on. He had always wanted to put something like that up, but could never scrape together enough money from working at his minimum wage job.

They followed the man-thing into the back of the hall and saw him approach what could only be described as a giant throne-couch. It was tall, solid, and encrusted with jewels and was ornately carved with designs, but it was still a couch, with nice fluffy cushions and all. The man-thing called out to the revolting blob that was piled upon the couch, causing it to jiggle and throw off the blanket it was hiding under. Underneath all those layers and flaps of fat and skin, there was something. It probably wasn’t a man, but it talked and possibly had the ability to walk. Stringy hair covered its face, which it vainly pushed to the side as it sat up and tried to address the man-thing. Its face was obscured by chin upon chin which took up the vast majority of its head, giving it a vague pyramid or conical shape. Flabs of greenish skin and fat shook from its arms with every move, covered with grease and liver spots. He stroked his scraggly beard in a contemplative manner and wiped his hand on his resin-stained t-shirt and spoke.

“What, man?” The man-thing responds. "It's started, your highness."

"Bummer."

Space Truckin' - Chapter 1: We Had a Lot of Luck on Venus

“Huh? I don’t get it.” Gee was more than a little confused at the murky language found on the opposite side of the business card. “What’s there to not get,” Franky asked.

“Multiple and/or regular patronage required? We have to keep on buying every week? I don’t like that at all!”

Franky was getting a tad frustrated at Gee’s inability to grasp the simple situation. “Can we just get this done already? It took me forever to scrape up sixty dollars.” Gee was still wary about this new venture. “Why can’t we just go over to Boo’s house again?”

Franky was insulted. Gee knew damn well why they’re not going back to Boo’s house. Boo is not worth it. He has the absolute worst product and it takes a minimum of two hours worth of hanging out and listening to his mediocre poetry just to get a lousy dime. Franky was tired of putting up with all the lowlifes and losers of Jamestown and wanted to do business with somebody that has a little more class. At the very least, someone who didn’t always reek of that sharp provolone smell. After a few more minutes of gentle coaxing, Gee was ready. “Okay, but you do the talking.” Franky most certainly intended to do all the talking. He dialed the phone number and, as expected, received a voice mail.

“Um, hello,” Franky began in a shaky voice. “We would like to place an order for delivery. Could you please call us back at 718-645-6708? Thanks.” Franky was also unsure about the standard operating procedure, so he decided to treat it like he was ordering a pizza or something.

“Did you call the guy or are we ordering a pizza first,” Gee questioned.

“No, that was the guy. I guess he’s going to call back in five minutes.”

Gee was getting anxious. It had been nearly a week since his last good buzz. He’d heard a lot of good things about this home delivery service, especially from some of his old college friends in the city. However, he was still a little apprehensive. He likes to know who he’s shopping from, even if it’s something as casual as this. But when he heard that there was some guys operating in Jamestown, his curiosity got the best of him, so he started talking about it with Franky, who was already several steps ahead of him.

Approximately six minutes and thirty nine seconds later, Gee was losing his cool. “What kind of creeps are we getting mixed up with? And now they have our phone number, man! They could find us, kidnap us and put us in a snuff film! We don’t know these guys, they could be psychos! And now tonight we’re gonna end up in some dank basement with shackles on our hands and our balls in our mouths! How do you like that!”

The phone finally rang, causing Gee to become silent almost instantly. Franky answered and continued the pizza delivery ruse. He said he wanted three large pizzas with anchovies. The guy on the other line said something about anchovies being gross, but Franky had no idea what that was supposed to imply and insisted on anchovies. The delivery man gave their total to be sixty dollars even. Franky stated that that’s a lot of money for a few pizzas, to which the delivery man replied, “We’re very good.” He gave his address and hung up. Then they had to play the waiting game.

“We could play Guess Who,” Gee suggested. However, Franky commented that they should wait until afterwards, as it’s more fun when “the game cards actually do talk.” It was a painful wait. Usually the two aren’t shy about having a couple of beers beforehand, but thought it was important to have a fresh start this evening, as they were trying something new and wanted to make their conclusions without any outside interference.

Gee and Franky were just about best friends, but they disagreed on mostly everything. Gee claimed to be a staunch libertarian, mainly out of being disenfranchised by the two major parties and wanting to have nothing to do with them, while Franky still held out hope for the democrats. Both wanted to be anarchists, but weren’t willing to go the extra mile because they weren’t sure where the 7-11 would go after such a drastic change in government structure, or lack thereof. The 7-11 is where they would usually end up after an evening of non-adventures. Franky was always up for anything, but Gee thinks too much and always creates dilemmas to avoid potential fun activities. What was supposed to be a great evening at Medieval Times in Toronto turned into nothing but a three hour session in Carl’s living room, discussing it.

At one point they started watching the first half hour of Scarface. Neither of them were huge fans of the movie, but seemed to enjoy it in the past, especially when watching it at parties. However, this particular viewing seemed off in a way. “Why is he always screaming? This is totally gay, man.” Franky agreed. As great as the final shootout was, the movie as a whole was way too campy to be taken seriously and the chainsaw scene was mediocre at best. “It doesn’t even show his limbs get cut off.” Franky was a particular gorehound and didn’t appreciate that at all. Gee questioned what the “rap guys” liked so much about it in the first place. Then it came. Did it ever.

The thing entered the house, but neither of them remembers ever opening the door. There was no doorbell, no knock, just a breeze of air that chilled the back of their necks. Their spines stiffened as the presence of the effervescent man took it upon him to sit at their own furniture. His hollow eyes drifted through the shroud of his black hood, the only thing visible of his face. Franky’s brain swelled with regret as the thing threw out an index finger, pointing its bony appendage towards him. Somewhere in the world, a poodle just had its face smashed in with a brick. “Extra anchovies?” He reached into his chest, underneath several layers of rags and grease, pulling out a cube. Within the cube was a thing of terror.

It was a gelatin - a slime. Yet it had shapes. A mighty warrior marched his way through the arctic tundra, slaying demons and goblins and wrestling snow-beasts. It was a long journey filled with hardships. Many men died, but only this warrior, the bravest of the brave and the purest of heart, could survive the earthly hell. He was within moments of victory, so close he could taste the sweet sweat of triumph trickling down his nose, only to be permanently immobilized by the cube. This horrible, horrible cube. This thing. Franky and Gee were giddy.

“Police, open up!” Their giddiness eviscerated by a single knock of a door and replaced with anxiety. Gee can’t go through this again. He’s already been hassled for possession within the last six months. And he has a second interview on Monday. Franky was a little more relaxed and more annoyed that he wasn’t able to see what was in that wicked awesome cube. But before any of them sink any further into deep thought, the man-thing reaches again into his layers of rags and pulls out the biggest gun they have ever seen. Within two or three blasts, the front door of Gee’s mom’s house is blown down, leaving a lifetime’s supply of charred wooden splinters. On the outside, Gee spots two bodies falling to the ground. “Get in the car,” the man-thing demands, referring to his old rusty VW bus parked outside. Franky and Gee expected that if they didn’t yield to his demands, they would join the two outside and decided to be good little hostages. As they stepped outside, they got a good look at the fallen policemen. They didn’t look like men at all, but had strange pinkish complexions, hideous warts covering their faces and fat snouts. They squealed their final death squeals as their guts spilled onto the porch. A siren grows louder in the air. The man-thing points his gun again. “Now!” Frank and Gee scramble to the bus.

As they hop into the back seats, they catch a glimpse of the cops pulling up to Gee’s mom’s house. It’s another group of hideous pig men wielding machine guns and dressed like the leather man from the Village People. The man-thing turns the keys to the ignition. Gee asked “Did you bring that cube thing with you?”

Review - Rambo

After seeing Rambo at the theater, I went back to my neighborhood and ate some nachos. Big ones too, with chili, cheese, black beans, sour cream, the works, man. In my neighborhood there's the authentic Mexican restaurant and there's the taco place that's run by Asians. The authentic place is great. You get some damn good food and it doesn't cost too much. But recently, I decided to go with the not so respected Yummy Taco. I avoided it because it was poor quality, possibly unsanitary, and low-brow, unlike the authentic place. But yesterday I decided to give Yummy Taco, the not so authentic taco place, strangely owned and operated by Asians, a chance. I loved it. Reminds of the good ol' Mighty Taco in Buffalo. Not even close to real Mexican cooking, but I'll be damned if it doesn't fill your stomach to the point of extreme regret. Besides, the authentic place's idea of nachos are just chips with cheese melted over them. So I thought what better way to cap off my viewing experience than to get some low brow "Mexican" food at the low brow taco place that nobody of influence would be caught dead at. Sounds good to me.

I wasn't sure what the proper venue would be to see this film. At first thought, I wanted to go to one of the rowdy theaters in Harlem that I hear so much about. But that's a bit of a trek for a movie. The closest theaters to Greenpoint were in Queens and another in Union Square. I decided to go to Union Square because I wanted a nice big theater with a kickass sound system so I could hear every drop of blood and guts that hit the floor. What I didn't count on, though, was that the place would be full of Manhattan douchebags who for some reason didn't realize they were seeing Rambo, and came in with the same expectations they'd have if they were seeing some pretentious dogshit like Babel. I believe Patton Oswalt has a good bit about that. When Stallone delivered the closest thing he had to a monologue in the movie, I heard a few sarcastic snickers from the asshole gallery. Did they really pay $12 just to make snarky comments about a movie they don't even enjoy watching? Perhaps the journey to Harlem would've been worthwhile.

But despite the non-believers and betrayers of all that is good and righteous, I was in heaven for an hour and a half, watching John Rambo send others straight to hell. After about a good 20 minutes worth of plot setup, which includes people getting liquefied on land mines, raping, pillaging, children receiving the business-end of a bayonet, and other assorted scumbaggery on the behalf of those Burmese evil fucks, we once again find Rambo in Thailand. He's trying to live a simple life, driving his boat and catching snakes. Then Christian missionaries show up and ask him for a lift to Burma, for their humanitarian work. Rambo firmly replies, "You ain't changing nothing." And of course, when they get there, nothing changes. They get captured by the slimy Burmese army and Rambo realizes that fighting and killing is reason he was put on this earth, and jumps into action. He transports a group of mercenaries to try and rescue the missionaries. They don't realize who this John Rambo is, and when they find themselves looking down the barrel of a gun, guess who shows up with bow and arrow blazing. It's like Clinton was never even elected.

This is an action film. No bullshit, no stupid storyline about trying to regain someone's stolen identity, and no babyfaced loser trying to pass off as a tough guy. Just Stallone doing what he does best, which is pulverizing, annihilating, and destroying his enemies. If today's generation of actors insist on continuing to be spoiled rich kids with problems, then why the hell shouldn't Stallone keep on making action movies at his old age? Christian Bale sure as hell ain't doing it! If you call these guys action heroes, Stallone is here to remind you how the fuck it's done! People don't dive for cover from a hail of bullets in a balletic manner, they get hit, and they die, painfully. People get their heads blown clean off a la Dawn of the Dead, sleazy military leaders are disemboweled, and the world is just plain mean. Stallone did a good job taking a page from the Saving Private Ryan handbook when it came to filming warfare. The camera shakes and dives, it's all a little overwhelming, but it kicks ass.

Did you ever see that scene in Sullivan's Travels where the main character ends up in a labor camp? One night he and the prisoners are treated to a movie at the local church. Despite their hardships and misery, they're in heaven while laughing their asses off at a Pluto cartoon. That's the kind of audience I want to see this movie with.

The Oscars are coming up soon, and you can guarantee that this movie will never see its name on the list next year. And you can be sure the critics are going to rip this movie a new one, giving the usual criticisms about it's simple plot, gratuitous violence, and jingoistic attitude. That's okay, this movie wasn't made for them. Rambo is a big dumb action movie, and that's the way it should be. Big, dumb, violent, and no apologies. The academy can have their Junos, their Daniel Day-Lewises, their Into the Wilds with their bullshit scores by Eddie Vedder. I'm perfectly happy with my low brow action movie and my low brow nachos prepared by Asians.

Ten out of five stars.

Movies of 2007!

It's 2008! And it just wouldn't be the spectacular spectacality of the changing from one year to another year that's one number more than the previous year without a list of things that are considered to be the best things to be things from said year. Considering that this is a blog about movie things, I think that a list of movie things would be an appropriate list of things to make things about.

Top Five Movie Things of 2007!

1. The Other George Washington - In a film that was championed by Oprah's movie club, Will Smith triumphs again with his multi-layered and moving depiction of peanut enthusiast George Washington Carver. This tender and emotional biopic follows Carver's early days on a slave plantation in Missouri, leading up to his eventual proclaimed emancipation and dedication to the legumal sciences. In this film, the peanut is more than just a salty snack that has since become a favorites of baseball fans and barflies alike, it's a symbol of freedom. In the scene where young Carver plants that first peanut plant into the ground, he's planting the seeds of freedom. As a choosy critic, I choose Smith. There is already talk of a sequel, Nuts to This.

2. Rape Rarty - The producers made a bold choice when they decided to take the Scooby Doo franchise in this radical new direction, focusing on the lesser known mystery involving the gang following a serial rapist making their rounds on a college campus. Fred, in an intense performance by Michael Chiklis, frustrated with the legal loopholes and technicalities that have allowed numerous criminals to go free in the past, decides to take the law into his own hands and is not above planting evidence and shooting first and asking questions later. Tragically, the film ends with the horrifying revelation that the assailant just might be in their own ranks. The drama in this film just moves at such a break-neck that you barely get time to take in all the intense story twists and revelations. The scene involving the Scooby snack is one of the most harrowing sequences ever captured on film.

3. Robot Ninjas - In an effort to top his own Transformers, Michael Bay combines Japanese mysticism with technological savvy in this East meets West extravaganza. Tom Cruise plays Terry Chiba, a Japanese businessman who decides to take up karate in order to defend himself. While he excels over the next few months and has reached the degree of black belt, an unexpected Allosaurus attack leaves him at death's door. Fortunately, his wise and blind sensei (played by the exhumed body of the late Ray Charles) fuses his body with cybernetic enhancements, leaving a metaphorical bag of flaming dog poo at the previously mentioned door. But his messianic resurrection is not without its complications, as his wife had immediately reconnected with old flame American auto-mechanic Oswald (played by Ralph Fiennes, brilliantly against type). While the title is somewhat misleading (there's only really one robot ninja, the rest are just either simply robots or ninjas, and a few mutant dinosaurs along the way) Robot Ninjas is a high-octane action ride that may be this generation's Star Wars. And you don't even notice the product placement for Yoshinoya Beef Bowls.

4. My Dick is My Vagina: The Movie - Further proof that viral videos are taking the place of the now extinct dinosaur that is the cinema, My Dick is My Vagina, the youtube heart throb hit the megaplexes and never looked back. Uptight film critics were sure no one would see a movie featuring only a fat kid humorously lip-synching for 90 minutes. They were wrong, give 'em hell, America! Not content to sticking with the tried and true formula, the filmmakers show true ambition when they have the fat kid (portrayed by the same fat kid, it just wouldn't be the same without his masterful talents) demonstrate his innovative performance based art set to the tune of Hawkwind's 1973 landmark live album Space Ritual. Hollywood elite take your notice. Your ivory towers are going to be toppled over by the new breed of young artists, artists who truly have something to say.

5. Turn and Burn - Muckraking filmmaker Paul Haggis continues to tackle issues with piercing accuracy and poignancy. This time, he sets his sights on the world's number one killer, land mines. Charlize Theron performance as a hard-nosed reporter in Pakistan, determined to find the terrorists responsible for her husband's death, only to fall in love with one of them, is only matched by Kal Penn's turn as the terrorist leader. Haggis made a gutsy move by having all the terrorist characters wear actual towels on their heads, obviously an effort to portray the negative stereotypes Americans harbor against Arab citizens.

All in all, 2007 was a banner year for the fine artistic art that is film. No longer held back by the constraints of mass appeal or box office numbers, filmmakers gave the proverbial pressed fruit bowl to the establishment, thanks to unconventional masterworks like Robot Ninjas. After all the dust has settled, 2007 will be long remembered as the year Hollywood took risks. Trailblazing films such as Eat My Fuck, Honky will forever be remembered as the film that had two black supporting characters instead of just one, effectively undoing centuries of prejudice and oppression and the world is a better place because of it. Daring? Certainly. A new American revolution? Just maybe.