If you have ever had the pleasure of hanging out with me while drunk, chances are good that you've heard this story before. Still many of you may have not, and I been wanting to write this one down for years.
The story that follows is one of the most (and quite possibly THE most) awkward moments in my life. And like all great uncomfortable moments it involves family.
The evening started innocently enough. I was out at mom's house visiting. As per usual we had been chatting for quite some time. Any number of subjects had been covered as me and mom are both easily distracted when it comes to conversation. More often than not random thoughts, and side conversations, wound up taking center stage. At least until the next random thought or shiny object. Somehow we ended up touching upon the idea of brainwashing as a form of control. A which mom dropped a reference to the film "A Clockwork Orange". This admittedly caught my attention for two reasons. One, while I had heard of "A Clockwork Orange" before, I had never actually seen the film. My mom had just name dropped one of those movies that most film-geeks get disturbingly orgasmic about when anybody brings it up. Which brings us to the second reason this caught my interest, I was VERY into movies at the time. Especially when the film had the potential to get really dark. I suddenly very much wanted to see the film. This would prove to be an exceptionally bad idea.
Now before I go any further let me clarify something, "A Clockwork Orange" is a very good film. It is very dark, and at times overly artsy, but still a good film. At it's most basic level it's a film about a truly horrible young man living in a rather hellish near-future. Eventually he is captured and brainwashed so he won't be so much of a threat to the surrounding populous. It is quite a good film, and I would recommend seeing it some day if you haven't already. That being said, never, and I repeat never watch the film with family members.
With our unfortunate course set we sent Bob out to rent the film (Ah... The days before Netflix.) and pick up a pizza for dinner. Upon his return we put the pizza in the oven, and began to start the film. At this very moment grandmother walked into the room and very cordially asked if we were about to watch a film. To which we both said, "Yes, would you like to pull up a seat and join us?"
To which she replied, "I'd be delighted!"
So there we are. Our little subsection of the nuclear family all gathered around the tv ready for an evening of family entertainment. (Now that I think about it I find it slightly odd that Bob wasn't there with us. He may have known better.) Again if you've already seen the film you are probably already cringing, but if you haven't allow me to explain why this whole scene was so bad.
As I mentioned earlier the film is centered around a horrible young man in a horrible world. Well since the audience didn't yet know how disgusting this guy was yet the film needed to show us. So the opening moments of the film are this young man and his friends (i.e. gang) involved in all manner of bad things. Beatings, b&e, and perhaps the most vile rape. All of these scenes happen to be set to a background soundtrack composed mostly of classical music. Every frame of it is deeply unsettling, and uncomfortable.
And I'm sitting there not three feet away from both my mother and grandmother.
At roughly the same moment me and mom realized that we had made a horrible mistake. We both began to look around like wild animals looking for a way out of a cage we had just found ourselves to be trapped in. Now at this moment you may be wondering why we didn't just get up and press stop on the damn VCR? While that is a perfectly rational option, neither me nor mom were feeling particularly rational at the moment. No, it would be safe to say that the two of us were locked in a blind panic. Both of us knew that this was a bad place to be in, but our minds couldn't get us out of it.
Grandmother, for her part, just sat there being as prim and proper as she had ever been in her entire life.
In many ways that was the worst part. Here was this woman from a very different generation. A southern belle in almost every meaning of the phrase. A woman who could be disapproving of the amount of violence in children's cartoons, suddenly found herself watching one of the most disturbing openings that I have ever seen in a film. And. She. Just. Calmly. Sat. There.
I knew that at any moment one of us was going to break. The tension in the room was just too thick. Up until this moment none of us had been able to speak. I don't think any of us knew quite what to say. Honestly, I don't think I was capable of speech. Still the moment had to come, and it did with the next scene.
The next scene involved our gang invading a home, beating a husband, and raping the wife. All the while our "hero" is singing an impromptu rendition of "Singing in the Rain". Just like everything that had happened before this would have been incredibly uncomfortable to watch alone, let alone with two earlier generations of family members, but to make matters worse it was at that exact moment that grandmother decided to break the silence of the audience. She simply turned to my mother and me, and just as sincerely as she could muster said, "Well at least the music is very nice."
I think at that very moment my brain said, "Fuck this! I'm going to Hawaii!" and then proceeded to crawl out through my ear and go to Hawaii. I instantly jumped up, stopped the movie, and said, "Oh hey! Look at the time. I should really get home. I'll just take the movie with me." No one argued with that idea.
Mom later confessed that while she had seen the movie before she had no memory of the opening scenes. Otherwise she never would have suggested that we should all watch it together.
I never talked with grandmother about that night ever again. In fairness she never brought it up either.
So that's the story. If it didn't seem that odd or awkward to you, well maybe you just had to be there.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Friday, June 7, 2013
Impressions of Joss Whedon's Adaptation of "Much Ado About Nothing"
Attempting to review Shakespeare is in many ways a useless proposition. By this point anyone with any interest in the bard's body of work has read the all plays as well as read analyses and critiques written by people much smarter and better informed than myself. People have devoted their lives to the man's works. Most think Shakespeare was a genius. Some think he was the greatest writer to ever have lived. I personally think he has been somewhat overrated.
Now before you begin calling for my head on a pike, allow me to clarify that statement a little bit. I do think Shakespeare was wonderfully ahead of his time. (If you don't believe me, try to read the works of his contemporaries.) But his stories, while solid, rarely capture my imagination. Using "Much Ado" as an example many plot devices seem a bit too shoehorned in to feel truly authentic. (It's either poor storytelling, or Claudio is the most bi-polar bastard ever.) In my opinion Shakespeare's works are only so fondly remembered because the man did two things really, really well; he created strong memorable characters and he crafted some of the best dialogue ever put to page. Think about it for a moment. When you think of Shakespeare what comes to mind first? The characters? The dialogue? Or the story? I'm willing to bet most of you would have chose one of the first two options.
Does this mean I dislike Shakespeare's work? Not at all. I'm a big believer in focusing on your strengths, and letting those strengths carry the bulk of the work. Need further proof? Alright, how about this. Joss Whedon is one of my favorite writer directors working today. I say this with no reservations what so ever, and yet... Every single critique I just lay against Shakespeare I could just as easily lay against Whedon as well. Like Shakespeare, Whedon's talents are in creating and understanding strong memorable characters and giving them fantastic things to say. As such I feel that Whedon is perhaps one of the best currently working directors to attempt to bring Shakespeare's work to the big screen.
Now that I've gotten all that out of the way, I can say that "Much Ado About Nothing" is the best film representation of Shakespeare I've ever seen. It may be the best Shakespeare I've ever seen, period.
A big part of that proclamation comes directly from Whedon's third major talent. Casting. I don't know how the man casts his actors, but whatever he does works really, really well. Everyone of his projects has featured amazingly talented ensemble casts. And Much Ado's cast list reads like a "best of" list of Whedon's previous works. Never before have I seen a cast of actors feel so utterly comfortable with the language. Every time I've every seen Shakespeare performed before this, there has always been the sense that the actor is simply trying to force out the line so that s/he can get to the next line. Either that or actors often feel the need to make the language feel "big" and "grand" and "dramatic" even though often times the actual scene is fairly mundane. Not so here. In fact there was a magical moment for me about 10 minutes into the film where I simply stopped noticing the language. It stopped being a conceit of the script and simply became the world and the language of the characters. This is an amazing achievement.
As good as the entire cast is, I feel the need to point out two actors for being absolute stand outs. Amy Acker as Beatrice and Fran Kranz as Claudio. If I co(uld gush like a total fan boy for a second let me just say that Amy Acker deserves to be far more famous than she actually is. The woman has been absolutely rock solid in everything I've ever seen her in, and here she absolutely takes to Shakespeare's dialogue like a duck to water. She absolutely nails it. And Kranz, well Kranz almost made me forget what a horrible twit Claudio is. He almost made Claudio a compelling character. This might sound like a back-handed compliment, but I assure you it is not. Claudio is a horrible person that we are supposed to somehow be cheering for. I have always hated Claudio, so it is much to Kranz's credit that I actually found myself liking the character despite myself.
There is a lot to like in this film. However it is not perfect. As I mentioned before I don't always feel that Shakespeare is the best storyteller, and in this like his other comedies everything just ends a bit too perfectly a bit too easily for my tastes. The dialogue also sometimes comes at odds with the modern day setting. (A prince and a duke at a southern California dinner party? Really?) Also Whedon occasionally gets a bit too artistic for his own good. (Why does that scene on the poster happen in the lake?)
In the end I feel that Much Ado About Nothing is much like my earlier descriptions of it's creators Shakespeare and Whedon. There are flaws, but the strengths are so strong that you probably won't even notice them.
Now before you begin calling for my head on a pike, allow me to clarify that statement a little bit. I do think Shakespeare was wonderfully ahead of his time. (If you don't believe me, try to read the works of his contemporaries.) But his stories, while solid, rarely capture my imagination. Using "Much Ado" as an example many plot devices seem a bit too shoehorned in to feel truly authentic. (It's either poor storytelling, or Claudio is the most bi-polar bastard ever.) In my opinion Shakespeare's works are only so fondly remembered because the man did two things really, really well; he created strong memorable characters and he crafted some of the best dialogue ever put to page. Think about it for a moment. When you think of Shakespeare what comes to mind first? The characters? The dialogue? Or the story? I'm willing to bet most of you would have chose one of the first two options.
Does this mean I dislike Shakespeare's work? Not at all. I'm a big believer in focusing on your strengths, and letting those strengths carry the bulk of the work. Need further proof? Alright, how about this. Joss Whedon is one of my favorite writer directors working today. I say this with no reservations what so ever, and yet... Every single critique I just lay against Shakespeare I could just as easily lay against Whedon as well. Like Shakespeare, Whedon's talents are in creating and understanding strong memorable characters and giving them fantastic things to say. As such I feel that Whedon is perhaps one of the best currently working directors to attempt to bring Shakespeare's work to the big screen.
Now that I've gotten all that out of the way, I can say that "Much Ado About Nothing" is the best film representation of Shakespeare I've ever seen. It may be the best Shakespeare I've ever seen, period.
A big part of that proclamation comes directly from Whedon's third major talent. Casting. I don't know how the man casts his actors, but whatever he does works really, really well. Everyone of his projects has featured amazingly talented ensemble casts. And Much Ado's cast list reads like a "best of" list of Whedon's previous works. Never before have I seen a cast of actors feel so utterly comfortable with the language. Every time I've every seen Shakespeare performed before this, there has always been the sense that the actor is simply trying to force out the line so that s/he can get to the next line. Either that or actors often feel the need to make the language feel "big" and "grand" and "dramatic" even though often times the actual scene is fairly mundane. Not so here. In fact there was a magical moment for me about 10 minutes into the film where I simply stopped noticing the language. It stopped being a conceit of the script and simply became the world and the language of the characters. This is an amazing achievement.
As good as the entire cast is, I feel the need to point out two actors for being absolute stand outs. Amy Acker as Beatrice and Fran Kranz as Claudio. If I co(uld gush like a total fan boy for a second let me just say that Amy Acker deserves to be far more famous than she actually is. The woman has been absolutely rock solid in everything I've ever seen her in, and here she absolutely takes to Shakespeare's dialogue like a duck to water. She absolutely nails it. And Kranz, well Kranz almost made me forget what a horrible twit Claudio is. He almost made Claudio a compelling character. This might sound like a back-handed compliment, but I assure you it is not. Claudio is a horrible person that we are supposed to somehow be cheering for. I have always hated Claudio, so it is much to Kranz's credit that I actually found myself liking the character despite myself.
There is a lot to like in this film. However it is not perfect. As I mentioned before I don't always feel that Shakespeare is the best storyteller, and in this like his other comedies everything just ends a bit too perfectly a bit too easily for my tastes. The dialogue also sometimes comes at odds with the modern day setting. (A prince and a duke at a southern California dinner party? Really?) Also Whedon occasionally gets a bit too artistic for his own good. (Why does that scene on the poster happen in the lake?)
In the end I feel that Much Ado About Nothing is much like my earlier descriptions of it's creators Shakespeare and Whedon. There are flaws, but the strengths are so strong that you probably won't even notice them.
On My Way to See "Much Ado About Nothing"
I have been living in California for almost three and a half years now. In that time, I haven't gotten out much. Actually, that's not entirely fair. I go to movies, I go out to eat, I go out to buy other random shit. What I don't typically do is go anywhere that requires me to drive more than 30 minutes. The problem is that I really don't like driving all that much. The idea of spending more time in the car than doing whatever is at the destination makes me frustrated on the best days. On the worst days it leaves me bitter and angry. This unfortunate outlook on life often leaves me with an incredibly narrow view of what California has to offer. With this in mind, you can imagine my irritation at the discovery that the only showing of Joss Whedon's adaptation of Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing" that I could find in the area was about an hour and a half away in Hollywood. Was a movie, even a movie by one of my favorite directors and cast full of favored actors, really worth that amount of time from my day? In the end, I felt that that it was worth my time. Everything that followed really helps to illustrate the pros and cons of venturing out of my little comfort zone, and into the areas that most others think of when they hear the word California.
The first order of business was to decide on a route to take to the theater. Most navigation programs would suggest taking I-15 (my closest interstate) to the 91. This is the point that I give these programs the middle finger, and a few choice expletives, while immediately looking for alternate routes. This reaction probably confuses some of you, so allow me to explain.
In Dante Alighieri's Inferno, the author very vividly described 9 levels of hell and the unique tortures and horrors that called each individual level home. None were what you might describe as "pleasant" and they kept getting progressively worse with each descending level, with the 9th level being the worst. I maintain that had Dante Alighieri lived in the modern day, California state road 91 would have been the 10th level of hell.
I have NEVER had a good experience with this road. This stretch of asphalt seems to exist in a state of perpetual gridlock. Every time I have been on it, at least an extra hour has been added to my time on the road. I am actually convinced that this road is some kind of sadistic experiment on the effects of road rage on the average driver. I hate this road.
Lucky for me there was another route.
After a pretty uneventful drive (because I didn't take the 91 no doubt) and some mild confusion as to where to park, I finally arrived at the theater. The name of the theater was the "ArcLight Hollywood". I only mention this because it is seriously one of the nicest/weirdest movie theaters I've ever been in.
Let me give you some examples of what I mean starting with the location. The theater is located on Sunset Blvd across the street from a film school. (Probably why they got the film in the first place, teachers are going to love dissecting it.) That's not really that odd, and is probably quite convenient. What I did find odd however was what shared the same physical building as the theater; a gym and a freaking culinary cooking school. The gym I understand. Gyms show up everywhere. People love their weights and spandex. But a culinary cooking school? That's new for me. I have to wonder if these four businesses ever do some kind of crazy cross promotion extravaganza. If they do I bet it's amazing.
After I got done puzzling over the bizarre juxtaposition of businesses I finally entered the theater proper and was met with a few more oddities that I never seen/associated with a movie theater. Directly in front of me was the normal ticket counter. Okay nothing odd there. Looking to my left there was a coffee shop. I have to admit, that while I've never seen a coffee shop in a theater before, the idea is fantastic. Seriously, an cool dark theater with a warm cup of joe sounds like an amazing combination to me. (And I hate coffee!) So I found the coffee shop be odd but strangely welcome. I can't exactly say the same for what was next to the coffee shop.
Directly to the right of the coffee shop was a gift shop. At first I thought this was another stroke of genius. After all with the sheer amount of movie tie-in related bullshit out there, what better place to buy that stuff than right where you saw the film. Not gonna lie, if I saw some really badass scifi action film and then they had really good toys for sale as I left the theater... Well let's just say my bank account is really glad they don't do this. That's right, other than one James Bond related book I didn't see a single other item in the gift shop that related to film in any way, shape, or form. Okay... Looking around just confused me even more. It seemed almost as if someone with rather eclectic tastes decided to max out their Barnes and Noble credit card, put it all of their spoils on display, and called it a gift shop. Here are some examples of what I found in there. The previously mentioned James Bond book, several art books, a photo book of Paris, a box of pin up girl themed postcards, an amazingly well drawn (French?) anatomy book, and a hardback copy of the third collected volume of the comic book Preacher. Huh? Am I the only one confused why all of this would be located in a movie theater? Is this a California thing?
Compared to the gift shop everything else was rather mundane, if not a little unusual. It seems as though the movie theater was trying to capture the aesthetic of a stage production. For example the seats were assigned when you bought the ticket, (I was in seat L24 for those curious.) the auditorium was huge, and before the show an usher came out to lay down the house rules and introduce the film. I kept getting weird flashbacks to my time in the theatre department at college the entire time I was there.
And then of course there was the movie. I'll go into my thoughts on the movie in another post, but here's a hint. It's very good and well worth your time to go see.
All and all it was an outing I was very pleased with. Nothing really special, or amazing. But plenty of slightly odd. And slightly odd makes me smile ear to ear. Shame I still had to drive home.
Which brings me back to my initial problem with going out into California proper, it took me almost 3 hours to get back to my apartment. That was about twice as long as it took me to get out there in the first place. That means that in total today I spent about four and a half hours on the road so I could see a less than two hour long movie. That's a lot of time to spend it your car worried that some impatient asshole is going to rear end you because traffic keeps alternating between 15 and 0 mph on the freaking interstate. By the time I got back home most of my good feelings from the outing had been replaced with loathing for the roadways of California.
So in the end was it worth it? In this case? Yes. Yes it was. But sadly I'm not sure what will convince me that it is worth that kind of time in the car again.
The first order of business was to decide on a route to take to the theater. Most navigation programs would suggest taking I-15 (my closest interstate) to the 91. This is the point that I give these programs the middle finger, and a few choice expletives, while immediately looking for alternate routes. This reaction probably confuses some of you, so allow me to explain.
In Dante Alighieri's Inferno, the author very vividly described 9 levels of hell and the unique tortures and horrors that called each individual level home. None were what you might describe as "pleasant" and they kept getting progressively worse with each descending level, with the 9th level being the worst. I maintain that had Dante Alighieri lived in the modern day, California state road 91 would have been the 10th level of hell.
I have NEVER had a good experience with this road. This stretch of asphalt seems to exist in a state of perpetual gridlock. Every time I have been on it, at least an extra hour has been added to my time on the road. I am actually convinced that this road is some kind of sadistic experiment on the effects of road rage on the average driver. I hate this road.
Lucky for me there was another route.
After a pretty uneventful drive (because I didn't take the 91 no doubt) and some mild confusion as to where to park, I finally arrived at the theater. The name of the theater was the "ArcLight Hollywood". I only mention this because it is seriously one of the nicest/weirdest movie theaters I've ever been in.
Let me give you some examples of what I mean starting with the location. The theater is located on Sunset Blvd across the street from a film school. (Probably why they got the film in the first place, teachers are going to love dissecting it.) That's not really that odd, and is probably quite convenient. What I did find odd however was what shared the same physical building as the theater; a gym and a freaking culinary cooking school. The gym I understand. Gyms show up everywhere. People love their weights and spandex. But a culinary cooking school? That's new for me. I have to wonder if these four businesses ever do some kind of crazy cross promotion extravaganza. If they do I bet it's amazing.
After I got done puzzling over the bizarre juxtaposition of businesses I finally entered the theater proper and was met with a few more oddities that I never seen/associated with a movie theater. Directly in front of me was the normal ticket counter. Okay nothing odd there. Looking to my left there was a coffee shop. I have to admit, that while I've never seen a coffee shop in a theater before, the idea is fantastic. Seriously, an cool dark theater with a warm cup of joe sounds like an amazing combination to me. (And I hate coffee!) So I found the coffee shop be odd but strangely welcome. I can't exactly say the same for what was next to the coffee shop.
Directly to the right of the coffee shop was a gift shop. At first I thought this was another stroke of genius. After all with the sheer amount of movie tie-in related bullshit out there, what better place to buy that stuff than right where you saw the film. Not gonna lie, if I saw some really badass scifi action film and then they had really good toys for sale as I left the theater... Well let's just say my bank account is really glad they don't do this. That's right, other than one James Bond related book I didn't see a single other item in the gift shop that related to film in any way, shape, or form. Okay... Looking around just confused me even more. It seemed almost as if someone with rather eclectic tastes decided to max out their Barnes and Noble credit card, put it all of their spoils on display, and called it a gift shop. Here are some examples of what I found in there. The previously mentioned James Bond book, several art books, a photo book of Paris, a box of pin up girl themed postcards, an amazingly well drawn (French?) anatomy book, and a hardback copy of the third collected volume of the comic book Preacher. Huh? Am I the only one confused why all of this would be located in a movie theater? Is this a California thing?
Compared to the gift shop everything else was rather mundane, if not a little unusual. It seems as though the movie theater was trying to capture the aesthetic of a stage production. For example the seats were assigned when you bought the ticket, (I was in seat L24 for those curious.) the auditorium was huge, and before the show an usher came out to lay down the house rules and introduce the film. I kept getting weird flashbacks to my time in the theatre department at college the entire time I was there.
And then of course there was the movie. I'll go into my thoughts on the movie in another post, but here's a hint. It's very good and well worth your time to go see.
All and all it was an outing I was very pleased with. Nothing really special, or amazing. But plenty of slightly odd. And slightly odd makes me smile ear to ear. Shame I still had to drive home.
Which brings me back to my initial problem with going out into California proper, it took me almost 3 hours to get back to my apartment. That was about twice as long as it took me to get out there in the first place. That means that in total today I spent about four and a half hours on the road so I could see a less than two hour long movie. That's a lot of time to spend it your car worried that some impatient asshole is going to rear end you because traffic keeps alternating between 15 and 0 mph on the freaking interstate. By the time I got back home most of my good feelings from the outing had been replaced with loathing for the roadways of California.
So in the end was it worth it? In this case? Yes. Yes it was. But sadly I'm not sure what will convince me that it is worth that kind of time in the car again.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
A Review of Manborg (Because the World Needed One of Those)
http://youtu.be/mBHau4HeTZY
For a moment I'd like to talk about the idea of the "so bad it's good" movie. These movies (usually of the horror genre) are typically films where either the writing, direction, acting, production value, or some bizarre combination of all of the above come together to create a film that by all sensible should be completely horrible and without merit. Despite this, or often times because of it, these movies transcend their shortcomings, and become a kind of comedy gold to the audience willing to look at them in the right light. The "so bad it's good" label is a dubious honor at best, as it suggests that the filmmakers have so thoroughly failed at their original intentions that laughing at their shortcomings is the only entertainment that the audience can gain from the project. Perhaps the most (in)famous example of this is the film Troll 2. A movie that was so bad, and yet so loved, that it actually had a documentary made about it's fan base's ironic love for the movie. (Seriously, do a search for Best Worst Movie.)
So if the core idea behind the "so bad it's good" trope is that the film's creators failed, then how do we really define a movie that's goal is to be intentionally bad, but still hilarious in an ironic sort of way? Because that is exactly the conundrum I face when trying to review Manborg.
The story of Manborg is bare bones at best. Hell has invaded the Earth because science. That's actually not a joke. That is the reason the movie gives the audience for the forces of hell rising up and laying waste to the earth. In this weirdly retro 80's version of the future the minions of Hell are completely subjugating what's left of the human race, and forcing criminals to fight in arena death matches for the enjoyment of the hellions. It is into this world that the titular Manborg awakens.
Manborg quickly befriends a group of arena fighters, and helps them escape so he can help them lead a resistance battle against the oppressive denizens of hell. And, well, really that's about all there is to it.
Look, if you want a better story you better look somewhere else. As I mentioned earlier Manborg knows it's a bad movie. It pretty much tells you that right up front. Despite that, or possibly because of it, I kinda love this movie. I'll try to explain.
To begin with, let's examine the look of the film. At first glance you might think that the film is going for a kind of retro 80's look. (Hell, I said as much earlier in the review.) But in execution it comes of as a homage to something much, much, stranger. It comes off as an homage the FMV games of the early 90's. Low res video? Check. Laughably bad green screen techniques? Check. Lens flares for no goddamn reason? Check. Really the only thing missing is a random cameo from Christopher Walken exclaiming how "un-fucking believable" the whole thing is.
http://youtu.be/dFKylgGk73I
Why a director would opt for this look for their film is, quite honestly, beyond me. That being said, I'm glad they did. From the very first frame of the film your expectations are lowered. Which is great, because it allows you to more readily enjoy the ridiculousness that follows.
It also helps that the movie is completely self-aware. Little touches like a love struck demon warden trying to woo a human prisoner, or a wounded Manborg doing the robot on the ground kept me smiling the entire movie.
Which kind of brings me back to my initial question, "Can a movie be labeled "so bad it's good" if the original intent was always to evoke the feeling of a bad movie?" In truth I'm not sure how to answer that question. In the end it doesn't matter. Manborg was an enjoyable experience for me from beginning to end. If you and your friends are the kind of people that enjoy bad movies you will probably find a lot to love here.
Fun Fact: Make sure to watch after the credits as there is a mock preview for another film, and the funniest anti-piracy warning I've ever seen.
Fun Fact 2: The voice of #1 Man is Kyle Herbert, otherwise known as the English voice of Ryu in all of the current Street Fighter games. This makes me smile way more than it should.
For a moment I'd like to talk about the idea of the "so bad it's good" movie. These movies (usually of the horror genre) are typically films where either the writing, direction, acting, production value, or some bizarre combination of all of the above come together to create a film that by all sensible should be completely horrible and without merit. Despite this, or often times because of it, these movies transcend their shortcomings, and become a kind of comedy gold to the audience willing to look at them in the right light. The "so bad it's good" label is a dubious honor at best, as it suggests that the filmmakers have so thoroughly failed at their original intentions that laughing at their shortcomings is the only entertainment that the audience can gain from the project. Perhaps the most (in)famous example of this is the film Troll 2. A movie that was so bad, and yet so loved, that it actually had a documentary made about it's fan base's ironic love for the movie. (Seriously, do a search for Best Worst Movie.)
So if the core idea behind the "so bad it's good" trope is that the film's creators failed, then how do we really define a movie that's goal is to be intentionally bad, but still hilarious in an ironic sort of way? Because that is exactly the conundrum I face when trying to review Manborg.
The story of Manborg is bare bones at best. Hell has invaded the Earth because science. That's actually not a joke. That is the reason the movie gives the audience for the forces of hell rising up and laying waste to the earth. In this weirdly retro 80's version of the future the minions of Hell are completely subjugating what's left of the human race, and forcing criminals to fight in arena death matches for the enjoyment of the hellions. It is into this world that the titular Manborg awakens.
Manborg quickly befriends a group of arena fighters, and helps them escape so he can help them lead a resistance battle against the oppressive denizens of hell. And, well, really that's about all there is to it.
Look, if you want a better story you better look somewhere else. As I mentioned earlier Manborg knows it's a bad movie. It pretty much tells you that right up front. Despite that, or possibly because of it, I kinda love this movie. I'll try to explain.
To begin with, let's examine the look of the film. At first glance you might think that the film is going for a kind of retro 80's look. (Hell, I said as much earlier in the review.) But in execution it comes of as a homage to something much, much, stranger. It comes off as an homage the FMV games of the early 90's. Low res video? Check. Laughably bad green screen techniques? Check. Lens flares for no goddamn reason? Check. Really the only thing missing is a random cameo from Christopher Walken exclaiming how "un-fucking believable" the whole thing is.
http://youtu.be/dFKylgGk73I
Why a director would opt for this look for their film is, quite honestly, beyond me. That being said, I'm glad they did. From the very first frame of the film your expectations are lowered. Which is great, because it allows you to more readily enjoy the ridiculousness that follows.
It also helps that the movie is completely self-aware. Little touches like a love struck demon warden trying to woo a human prisoner, or a wounded Manborg doing the robot on the ground kept me smiling the entire movie.
Which kind of brings me back to my initial question, "Can a movie be labeled "so bad it's good" if the original intent was always to evoke the feeling of a bad movie?" In truth I'm not sure how to answer that question. In the end it doesn't matter. Manborg was an enjoyable experience for me from beginning to end. If you and your friends are the kind of people that enjoy bad movies you will probably find a lot to love here.
Fun Fact: Make sure to watch after the credits as there is a mock preview for another film, and the funniest anti-piracy warning I've ever seen.
Fun Fact 2: The voice of #1 Man is Kyle Herbert, otherwise known as the English voice of Ryu in all of the current Street Fighter games. This makes me smile way more than it should.
Friday, February 22, 2013
20 Years?!!
The other day I read that the original version of Super Mario Kart is now over 20 years old. This bit of information shocked and dismayed me in ways that I was entirely unprepared for. There are two main reasons why this news bothered me. One, while I am intellectually aware that a lot of time has passed it simply doesn't feel like that much time has gone by. The second, and far more surprising, reason is that I'm rather shocked at just how little my personality has changed since I was a fifteen year old playing Mario Kart with my friends for the first time ever.
It's this second subject I'd like to look at a little more in depth.
First of all I'd like to point out that I have no problems with the concept of aging. If anything I can honestly say that for the most part the older I've gotten the happier and more comfortable with myself I've gotten. So if age isn't what shocked my system, what is. Well let me put it this way. As I sit here writing I am drinking a beer, watching a movie about immortal swordsmen, all while wearing a Captain America themed t-shirt. In other words, I'm still a 15 year old. I just happen to be in a 35 year old's body.
I think the movie Big was actually a documentary about my future life. (Not sure how the filmmakers pulled off that particular trick.)
Even this doesn't really bother me exactly. It's just that it is supremely weird to have this fact thrown in your face with the cold hard fact of an anniversary date for something that you still hold oddly dear.
I... suddenly realize that I didn't really have anything else to say. Odd, I thought I did, but at the moment I can't think of anything else to put down.
Still I have to say it's felt good to write even if it really wasn't to say much.
Editor: God. You're trying to do this again?
Oh, hey. I was wondering when you were going to show up.
Editor: Well seeing as I'm usually the only piece of actual content in these posts, it's hardly surprising that I'm here once you have writer's block, now is it?
I'm not sure that I would say you are the only piece of content.
Editor: Alright. Fine. Have it your way. The only well received piece of content.
Actually, I know that's not true. My most popular post was my "Ninjas vs. Naked Women" post. And you aren't in that one at all.
Editor: That's the article with the sexy girl in the ninja outfit down on all fours, right? Tell me. Which makes more sense to you? People came here for your insights, or people came here for a picture of a pretty girl?
I.. er.. I mean, I'm sure some came here for my opinions...
Editor: Uh huh. Sure. Whatever helps you to sleep at night.
You know, you really aren't very nice. Have you ever considered that conversations like this are the entire reason I don't update this thing very often?
Editor: Though about it? Hell I've been counting on it. The longer you are away, the happier I am.
You know, if you really dislike me that much, you really don't have to be here. Just find something else to do. Take a vacation. I hear North Korea is really nice this time of year.
Editor: Oh yeah. That will work. What exactly would these posts be without me? (In a mocking impression of myself.) Oh look at me. I'm a sarcastic child of the 80's whose way to interested in stuff from 20 years ago. Please. That doesn't make you interesting, or unique. It makes you a statistic. One of hundreds if not thousands of people who have used the internet as a means to focus at length on this nostalgic nonsense. I'm the only thing that sets this apart at all. The only thing that makes your rants even slightly original. That's my job. To call you on your bullshit. Your feelings be damned!
Wait. That's your job? I thought you were here to correct my punctuation and spelling.
Editor: What? No! Have you ever looked back at any of this stuff?
Well, yeah. I just thought you were really bad at your job.
Editor: Dick.
Didn't you just tell me that was your job?
Editor: And now you're finally beginning to understand my role.
So. We are just stuck with each other then?
Editor: For better or for worse. Or in my case a whole lot worse.
I'm sorry?
Editor: Don't be. One day I'll finally break you for good, and then I'll never have to worry about you writing in this damn thing again.
Maybe it will be this time.
Editor: I'm nowhere near that lucky.
Then I guess I'll see you next time?
Editor: Whatever.
It's this second subject I'd like to look at a little more in depth.
First of all I'd like to point out that I have no problems with the concept of aging. If anything I can honestly say that for the most part the older I've gotten the happier and more comfortable with myself I've gotten. So if age isn't what shocked my system, what is. Well let me put it this way. As I sit here writing I am drinking a beer, watching a movie about immortal swordsmen, all while wearing a Captain America themed t-shirt. In other words, I'm still a 15 year old. I just happen to be in a 35 year old's body.
I think the movie Big was actually a documentary about my future life. (Not sure how the filmmakers pulled off that particular trick.)
Even this doesn't really bother me exactly. It's just that it is supremely weird to have this fact thrown in your face with the cold hard fact of an anniversary date for something that you still hold oddly dear.
I... suddenly realize that I didn't really have anything else to say. Odd, I thought I did, but at the moment I can't think of anything else to put down.
Still I have to say it's felt good to write even if it really wasn't to say much.
Editor: God. You're trying to do this again?
Oh, hey. I was wondering when you were going to show up.
Editor: Well seeing as I'm usually the only piece of actual content in these posts, it's hardly surprising that I'm here once you have writer's block, now is it?
I'm not sure that I would say you are the only piece of content.
Editor: Alright. Fine. Have it your way. The only well received piece of content.
Actually, I know that's not true. My most popular post was my "Ninjas vs. Naked Women" post. And you aren't in that one at all.
Editor: That's the article with the sexy girl in the ninja outfit down on all fours, right? Tell me. Which makes more sense to you? People came here for your insights, or people came here for a picture of a pretty girl?
I.. er.. I mean, I'm sure some came here for my opinions...
Editor: Uh huh. Sure. Whatever helps you to sleep at night.
You know, you really aren't very nice. Have you ever considered that conversations like this are the entire reason I don't update this thing very often?
Editor: Though about it? Hell I've been counting on it. The longer you are away, the happier I am.
You know, if you really dislike me that much, you really don't have to be here. Just find something else to do. Take a vacation. I hear North Korea is really nice this time of year.
Editor: Oh yeah. That will work. What exactly would these posts be without me? (In a mocking impression of myself.) Oh look at me. I'm a sarcastic child of the 80's whose way to interested in stuff from 20 years ago. Please. That doesn't make you interesting, or unique. It makes you a statistic. One of hundreds if not thousands of people who have used the internet as a means to focus at length on this nostalgic nonsense. I'm the only thing that sets this apart at all. The only thing that makes your rants even slightly original. That's my job. To call you on your bullshit. Your feelings be damned!
Wait. That's your job? I thought you were here to correct my punctuation and spelling.
Editor: What? No! Have you ever looked back at any of this stuff?
Well, yeah. I just thought you were really bad at your job.
Editor: Dick.
Didn't you just tell me that was your job?
Editor: And now you're finally beginning to understand my role.
So. We are just stuck with each other then?
Editor: For better or for worse. Or in my case a whole lot worse.
I'm sorry?
Editor: Don't be. One day I'll finally break you for good, and then I'll never have to worry about you writing in this damn thing again.
Maybe it will be this time.
Editor: I'm nowhere near that lucky.
Then I guess I'll see you next time?
Editor: Whatever.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
My Personal History of Fighting Games part 1
As you may know Marvel vs Capcom 3 is getting released on February 15th. Seeing as I (along with many others) have been waiting over 10 years for another installment in this franchise, it's safe to say that I'm a little excited. Which officially marks the very first time I've ever been excited about anything near Valentine's Day. (Seriously fuck that bullshit greeting card holiday! Yes I'm bitter.) It also means that many nostalgic thoughts about the Marvel "vs." series, and really just fighting games in general have been bubbling to the surface. It made me realize that I've played a lot of fighting games. So I thought it might be fun to do my own personal retrospective on my experiences on the fighting game genre.
(Note: This is not going to be a comprehensive article, nor will it be the most in depth. This is more about my personal experiences with the following.)
So let's get on with it.
1) Karate Champ
I bet you thought I was going to say Street Fighter 2 didn't you? While that game was huge, and I will be talking about it later, the fact is this is where my love of the fighting game started.
Thinking back on it know Karate Champ was an amazingly simple game. You had two guys in karate gi's, one in white the other in red, and they would fight using basic punches and kicks. Really this is what fighting genre is all about. From the very first time I saw it at the arcade I was hooked. There were only two problems. One I wasn't able to go to the arcade that often, and two I had absolutely no idea how to play the damn thing. You see unlike modern fighters where you have a stick (or pad) to control your movement and buttons to attack with, Karate Champ had two sticks.
For a reference here's Jean Claude Van Damme playing Ogre.
As a kid I could never figure out how this control scheme was supposed to work. But I did figure out one important thing. Spaz out enough on the sticks, and eventually you will get the jump kick.
And the jump kick, if done right, there is no defense.
Sadly my love affair with Karate Champ was short lived. As I said I didn't get out to the arcade that much, so we didn't get to spend much time together. And the times we were together were usually awkward and often frustrating. Borderlining on infuriating. So we parted as friends, with many good memories, but never really talked again.
For me Karate Champ was were it all started. And you never forget your first.
(Note: This is not going to be a comprehensive article, nor will it be the most in depth. This is more about my personal experiences with the following.)
So let's get on with it.
1) Karate Champ
I bet you thought I was going to say Street Fighter 2 didn't you? While that game was huge, and I will be talking about it later, the fact is this is where my love of the fighting game started.
Thinking back on it know Karate Champ was an amazingly simple game. You had two guys in karate gi's, one in white the other in red, and they would fight using basic punches and kicks. Really this is what fighting genre is all about. From the very first time I saw it at the arcade I was hooked. There were only two problems. One I wasn't able to go to the arcade that often, and two I had absolutely no idea how to play the damn thing. You see unlike modern fighters where you have a stick (or pad) to control your movement and buttons to attack with, Karate Champ had two sticks.
For a reference here's Jean Claude Van Damme playing Ogre.
As a kid I could never figure out how this control scheme was supposed to work. But I did figure out one important thing. Spaz out enough on the sticks, and eventually you will get the jump kick.
And the jump kick, if done right, there is no defense.
Sadly my love affair with Karate Champ was short lived. As I said I didn't get out to the arcade that much, so we didn't get to spend much time together. And the times we were together were usually awkward and often frustrating. Borderlining on infuriating. So we parted as friends, with many good memories, but never really talked again.
For me Karate Champ was were it all started. And you never forget your first.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Hello Wal-Mart My Old Friend...
(Note: For those of you who are confused as to why there is a pic of a single toothed woman at the top of this post, this is an experiment. I'm taking pics submitted by friends, and attempting to use them to inspire me to write. If you'd like to participate please send me an image and I'll see what I can do.)
So many questions come to mind when looking at this image. First of course is the obvious, "What happened to her teeth?" To this there are any number of plausible and, let's face it, boring explanations for what exactly happened. (i.e. Illness, lack of brushing/flossing, has literally no idea what the word "dentist" means...) But for the moment let's try to think outside the box and see what we can come up with.
1) Jack Bauer was torturing her for information about a loose nuclear warhead held by terrorists in the US. (She finally broke on the next to last tooth.)
2) She's a sexual submissive with a strong fetish for pain and dentists. (Think Bill Murrary in Little Shop of Horrors.)
3) She's in the witness protection program, and her case officer thought this would be the best way to make her unrecognizable.
4) She woke up in an alley in Tijuana missing most of her teeth... And a kidney!
5) She's from Virginia.
The second question that comes to mind is why does she still have the one tooth left. Admittedly I'm no oral surgeon, but I'd think that at this point it would be easier to simply yank that last tooth and just get fitted for a set of dentures.
Even odder is the fact that her last tooth is practically gleaming white. I'm actually willing to bet that she takes better care of that one shiny tooth than I have ever cared for any of the teeth in my head.
(Writing that down has suddenly given me a very strong desire to brush/floss my teeth. This woman could probably have a future visiting schools to warn impressible children about the dangers of tooth decay.)
Also just how does she eat? Is she on a liquid food diet at this point? If that's the case than how is she still overweight? Does dinner consist of a pureed Big Mac and fries? (Wow! That concept almost made me retch in my mouth!)
Perhaps I'm just over thinking the situation. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. Maybe she has dentures at home that she uses to eat. However if that was the case then why the hell wouldn't you just wear them when you went out? Admittedly I really don't care about my outward appearance. (If you've ever seen my wardrobe than you know the truth of this statement.) But even I would have the self respect to try and disguise my empty maw with fake teeth.
Or at the very least I would have kept my mouth shut.
And yet none of these are the main question on my mind. Believe it or not my main question has nothing at all to do with her lack of teeth, or her ownership of just one tooth. No, the most ponderous question in my mind is this, "Why the fuck is she holding her hand up like she's waiting for the teacher to call on her?"
Did someone come over the intercom asking for the toothless wonder to identify herself? Perhaps she was trying to get the attention of whomever had the camera, hoping that this was her big break. Or maybe, just maybe, she really knows the answer and can't wait to tell you.
The world may never know, and is probably better off that way.
(So ends my first part of this experiment. Let me know what you think, and if you have any submissions send them my way.)
Thursday, November 25, 2010
You probably don't want to read this.
Seriously. The title is not lying. What will follow will simply be me bitching, whining, and moaning about the current status of my life. This will be the typical self indulgent navel gazing that people normally associate with the blogs and diaries of pre-teen girls.
Wait, if you don't want anyone to read this then why are you posting it online?
Glad you asked. This is once again one of those moments where I think differently than the vast majority of humanity. You see, I've never understood the concept of simply writing for your self. To me the concept of keeping a secret diary is akin to storing a used masturbation tissue in a box so that you can routinely pull said box out from time to time and gaze longingly on days gone by. Really the whole concept seems pretty gross and pointless to me.
No, to me the entire point of putting your thoughts down in verse suggests that you intend for someone else at some point to rummage through your ideas. Whether or not you want to read these ideas is entirely up to you. But I'm warning you here and now that you probably don't really want to read this.
So without further ado let's take a long hard look at the sopping moist tissue that is the product of my mental masturbation.
What it all boils down to is this. I'm not happy. It's not that anything is wrong. Hell, if you put my life down on paper it sounds as if everything's going just fine. No, there's very little that's actively wrong, the problem is that there is very little that is actually right.
Allow me to explain. Currently I reside in southern California, approximately half way between LA and San Diego. I work in the very next town over. Part of the problem is this, there is nothing to do where I live. This isn't exactly a new problem. If you've know me for any length of time then you've probably heard this particular line of whining before. However this time there is a slight wrinkle in this persistent problem. This time I don't have a car.
The lack of a car is huge. Where before I was stuck in places I was less than happy with, at least with a car I could leave to visit home or a friend when I was desperate for something outside of my self imposed pattern. Without this mode of transportation I often feel trapped. Locked in this area without means of escape.
Of course none of this is actually true. You see, my roommate is one of the nicest human beings I've ever met. Chances are that if I were to ask to wake up one morning and drive me to LA to go see a movie, he would probably do it. However even this concept comes with a pitfall. You see when I go out to do damn near anything I like being self sufficient. Also I often like to be on my own.
Believe it or not, I love people. I love my friends and family. Hell I even love watching strangers go about there daily lives. That being said I am extremely protective of my "me" time. I often choose to do things with little or no planning. I try to let my impulses take me wherever they will. This is a concept that is very hard to pull off with most people.
Well then, why don't you just get a car?
That does seem to be the question doesn't it? The reason is stupid simple. I don't want one. Why? Well that's a little more complicated. The easy answer is that if I had one I would use it. And I would use it for everything. No longer would I walk to the store, to the gym, or wherever. Hell, chances are that I would stop walking all together. It is amazingly easy for me to become a slave to convenience, and I don't want to give myself the opportunity. Seems silly I know, but at the moment I'm not willing to budge on this particular issue. Maybe one day, but not now.
Also this is not the only problem that I'm having at the moment.
Secondly, I'm tired of my job. Once again I need to interject a point here. I do not have a bad job. Hell, my job is actually quite good. I'm working in the field that I love, and many days doing exactly what I'd like to be doing to make a living. The problem is in the details. (Note: The following will be difficult to describe, because I really don't want to say too much about my place of employment, yet still will try to convey my current issues. If this section comes across as incredibly vague I'm sorry.) The main problem stems from my focus when it comes to work. You see I've spent a decent amount of time and money to focus myself in a particular direction in my chosen profession. However at my job there is rarely need for my style of work. As such I often find myself doing things that do not interest or fulfill me at all. The work that I often find myself doing usually makes me feel brain-dead to perform it. Anymore when I do most of my work my mind is off in the either, with little awareness or care as to what my body is doing. For the record this makes me HATE myself.
Wait. What?
Allow me to elaborate. I love what I do for a living. Not like, love. I adore this work and what it can do for people. And when I find myself feeling apathetic to this work that I love, it hurts. Even worse is that I know what I'm doing, and yet I won't stop it. Not can't. Won't. This choice, this conscience choice, is what makes me hate myself. It makes me feel dirty, and it makes me feel like a liar and a cheat. And all because I often find myself put into a position that I simply don't believe in.
Once again I'm sorry for how vague all of that was, but it's really the best that I can say it at the moment.
This last bit is going to be at the same time the easiest, and the hardest part to write. Easy bit first. I'm lonely. This is hardly a new problem for me. I don't relate well to most people. There is a very good reason that most of my best friends I've known since grade school.
Don't get me wrong. There are plenty of people that I am friendly with. Lot's of really awesome people. Yet, there are few that I can honestly say that I truly connect with. And the people that I could see dating? At the moment I don't think there are any.
The dating thing shouldn't be such a big deal to me at this point. Even under the best of situations I almost never date. I think this is because a bizarre combination of being incredibly picky, and completely unaware when it comes to the opposite sex. What I mean by this is that I have no idea that a girl is interested in me unless she flat out says, "I'm interested in you." The problem here is twofold. I won't ask out a girl unless I think she's interested, but I don't know if she's interested unless she is ridiculously blunt about it. Sadly most girls aren't interested in a guy that can't make the first move. This is something that I have no idea how to change.
So, yeah, dating shouldn't be that big of a deal. Yet somehow it still is. And at the moment I don't see any chance of that changing.
Well, if you don't like where you live, are unfulfilled at your job, and are unattached why don't you move and try again somewhere else?
That's actually the same conclusion that I've come to.
So what's the hold up?
I'm afraid.
What the hell are you afraid of?
I'm not sure. Every time I think of looking for a new place to live/work I start to panic. Suddenly my fight or flight reflex kicks in and all I want to do is think of something, anything, else.
Why?
I think I'm afraid that things will get worse somewhere else.
Hold on. You just spent, God only knows how much space, bitching about how everything sucks, and your excuse for not doing anything about it is that it might be worse?!!!
Yeah.
Pussy.
I really don't think that's fair. Any number of things could go wrong. I could hurt myself, I could not be able to make enough to survive, I could completely lose any sense of security that I've built up over the last year, I could...
Could, could, fucking COULD!!! That's all you're saying! This could happen! That could happen! Hell, a piece of meteorite could fall from the heavens smash though your ceiling and kill you right now! But it probably won't. The truth is you have no idea what will happen. You can never know what will happen. That's life. That's part of what makes it so exciting. That's part of what makes it worth living. The not knowing, the adventure. Life will take many turns. Not all of them will be good. But many of them will be fantastic! Just stop for a moment and think. Nearly everyone of you're happiest moments came from you doing something that you were terribly afraid of.
Like what?
Well let's see. There was the time you when to China. Getting specialized training, after you finished college. And then getting even more training after that. Rock climbing. Trail biking. Swimming. Every time you've ever moved. Not to mention every girl you've ever been with. Face it, everything that you've done in your life that you are particularly proud of has come directly from you stepping outside of your comfort zone and doing something that you were afraid of. Have all you're choices been good? Hell no! But many of them have been glorious. If you have to think about what could be then think about just how wonderful it could be.
You might be right.
Look. I know you won't listen to me. You're stubborn like that. So let's leave you with someone you will listen to.
Think about it.
Wait, if you don't want anyone to read this then why are you posting it online?
Glad you asked. This is once again one of those moments where I think differently than the vast majority of humanity. You see, I've never understood the concept of simply writing for your self. To me the concept of keeping a secret diary is akin to storing a used masturbation tissue in a box so that you can routinely pull said box out from time to time and gaze longingly on days gone by. Really the whole concept seems pretty gross and pointless to me.
No, to me the entire point of putting your thoughts down in verse suggests that you intend for someone else at some point to rummage through your ideas. Whether or not you want to read these ideas is entirely up to you. But I'm warning you here and now that you probably don't really want to read this.
So without further ado let's take a long hard look at the sopping moist tissue that is the product of my mental masturbation.
What it all boils down to is this. I'm not happy. It's not that anything is wrong. Hell, if you put my life down on paper it sounds as if everything's going just fine. No, there's very little that's actively wrong, the problem is that there is very little that is actually right.
Allow me to explain. Currently I reside in southern California, approximately half way between LA and San Diego. I work in the very next town over. Part of the problem is this, there is nothing to do where I live. This isn't exactly a new problem. If you've know me for any length of time then you've probably heard this particular line of whining before. However this time there is a slight wrinkle in this persistent problem. This time I don't have a car.
The lack of a car is huge. Where before I was stuck in places I was less than happy with, at least with a car I could leave to visit home or a friend when I was desperate for something outside of my self imposed pattern. Without this mode of transportation I often feel trapped. Locked in this area without means of escape.
Of course none of this is actually true. You see, my roommate is one of the nicest human beings I've ever met. Chances are that if I were to ask to wake up one morning and drive me to LA to go see a movie, he would probably do it. However even this concept comes with a pitfall. You see when I go out to do damn near anything I like being self sufficient. Also I often like to be on my own.
Believe it or not, I love people. I love my friends and family. Hell I even love watching strangers go about there daily lives. That being said I am extremely protective of my "me" time. I often choose to do things with little or no planning. I try to let my impulses take me wherever they will. This is a concept that is very hard to pull off with most people.
Well then, why don't you just get a car?
That does seem to be the question doesn't it? The reason is stupid simple. I don't want one. Why? Well that's a little more complicated. The easy answer is that if I had one I would use it. And I would use it for everything. No longer would I walk to the store, to the gym, or wherever. Hell, chances are that I would stop walking all together. It is amazingly easy for me to become a slave to convenience, and I don't want to give myself the opportunity. Seems silly I know, but at the moment I'm not willing to budge on this particular issue. Maybe one day, but not now.
Also this is not the only problem that I'm having at the moment.
Secondly, I'm tired of my job. Once again I need to interject a point here. I do not have a bad job. Hell, my job is actually quite good. I'm working in the field that I love, and many days doing exactly what I'd like to be doing to make a living. The problem is in the details. (Note: The following will be difficult to describe, because I really don't want to say too much about my place of employment, yet still will try to convey my current issues. If this section comes across as incredibly vague I'm sorry.) The main problem stems from my focus when it comes to work. You see I've spent a decent amount of time and money to focus myself in a particular direction in my chosen profession. However at my job there is rarely need for my style of work. As such I often find myself doing things that do not interest or fulfill me at all. The work that I often find myself doing usually makes me feel brain-dead to perform it. Anymore when I do most of my work my mind is off in the either, with little awareness or care as to what my body is doing. For the record this makes me HATE myself.
Wait. What?
Allow me to elaborate. I love what I do for a living. Not like, love. I adore this work and what it can do for people. And when I find myself feeling apathetic to this work that I love, it hurts. Even worse is that I know what I'm doing, and yet I won't stop it. Not can't. Won't. This choice, this conscience choice, is what makes me hate myself. It makes me feel dirty, and it makes me feel like a liar and a cheat. And all because I often find myself put into a position that I simply don't believe in.
Once again I'm sorry for how vague all of that was, but it's really the best that I can say it at the moment.
This last bit is going to be at the same time the easiest, and the hardest part to write. Easy bit first. I'm lonely. This is hardly a new problem for me. I don't relate well to most people. There is a very good reason that most of my best friends I've known since grade school.
Don't get me wrong. There are plenty of people that I am friendly with. Lot's of really awesome people. Yet, there are few that I can honestly say that I truly connect with. And the people that I could see dating? At the moment I don't think there are any.
The dating thing shouldn't be such a big deal to me at this point. Even under the best of situations I almost never date. I think this is because a bizarre combination of being incredibly picky, and completely unaware when it comes to the opposite sex. What I mean by this is that I have no idea that a girl is interested in me unless she flat out says, "I'm interested in you." The problem here is twofold. I won't ask out a girl unless I think she's interested, but I don't know if she's interested unless she is ridiculously blunt about it. Sadly most girls aren't interested in a guy that can't make the first move. This is something that I have no idea how to change.
So, yeah, dating shouldn't be that big of a deal. Yet somehow it still is. And at the moment I don't see any chance of that changing.
Well, if you don't like where you live, are unfulfilled at your job, and are unattached why don't you move and try again somewhere else?
That's actually the same conclusion that I've come to.
So what's the hold up?
I'm afraid.
What the hell are you afraid of?
I'm not sure. Every time I think of looking for a new place to live/work I start to panic. Suddenly my fight or flight reflex kicks in and all I want to do is think of something, anything, else.
Why?
I think I'm afraid that things will get worse somewhere else.
Hold on. You just spent, God only knows how much space, bitching about how everything sucks, and your excuse for not doing anything about it is that it might be worse?!!!
Yeah.
Pussy.
I really don't think that's fair. Any number of things could go wrong. I could hurt myself, I could not be able to make enough to survive, I could completely lose any sense of security that I've built up over the last year, I could...
Could, could, fucking COULD!!! That's all you're saying! This could happen! That could happen! Hell, a piece of meteorite could fall from the heavens smash though your ceiling and kill you right now! But it probably won't. The truth is you have no idea what will happen. You can never know what will happen. That's life. That's part of what makes it so exciting. That's part of what makes it worth living. The not knowing, the adventure. Life will take many turns. Not all of them will be good. But many of them will be fantastic! Just stop for a moment and think. Nearly everyone of you're happiest moments came from you doing something that you were terribly afraid of.
Like what?
Well let's see. There was the time you when to China. Getting specialized training, after you finished college. And then getting even more training after that. Rock climbing. Trail biking. Swimming. Every time you've ever moved. Not to mention every girl you've ever been with. Face it, everything that you've done in your life that you are particularly proud of has come directly from you stepping outside of your comfort zone and doing something that you were afraid of. Have all you're choices been good? Hell no! But many of them have been glorious. If you have to think about what could be then think about just how wonderful it could be.
You might be right.
Look. I know you won't listen to me. You're stubborn like that. So let's leave you with someone you will listen to.
Think about it.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
My Obsession with Troll 2.
Troll 2 is not a good film. In fact I could go so far as to say that it is one of the more painful films I've ever forced upon myself. And yet despite that I've watched this movie over, and over, and over again. I'm not kidding when I say that I've probably seen this movie about 30 times now. The question is why? Why would I constantly keep re-watching a movie that I have verbally trashed time and time again? Well that's exactly what I'm hoping to explain tonight.
Warning. This will be long. This will be convoluted. This may or may not ever reach a truly satisfying end. This will not be as good as Inception, which also meets all of the above requirements. But, with a little luck this will explain my obsession.
Believe it or not this story starts long before the movie Troll 2 even came into existence. Hell we're going back before Troll 1 was even conceived. Do we have to do this? Probably not, but it's my story so I get to say where we go. And I say we look back to a time when I was a child.
A very serious child.
Very serious.
While I did have some sense of humor as a kid, it was a tightly guarded secret. I very rarely let it out. If anyone from back then thought that I didn't know how to laugh at all I really couldn't blame them.
Fun Fact: As those of you who know me currently already know I often plaster this horrible, toothy, fake smile on my face every now and then. That smile comes from this point in my life, because people kept telling me I should smile more. So I came up with that hideous Joker grin to shut them up. Oddly the smile stuck.
Editor: What the hell does you being a kid with a stick shoved firmly up his ass have to do with Troll 2?
Wait. You're back?
Editor: Back? I never left. I've been waiting here for you. But do you ever show? Do you ever write? No. So I've just been here waiting.
Wow... I'm sorry. I had no idea.
Editor: Don't be! It's been the best time of my life! Days, weeks, months have gone by without me having to listen to your incessant bitching! It's been bliss. Plus I've had time to catch up on my crocheting.
That is a nice sweater.
Editor: Thank you. But now you're back and my purgatory has begun once more. So let's get this over with so you can go away again.
(Vaguely uncomfortable.) Yeah, you're right. Um...
Editor: (Annoyed) What is it?
What was it I was talking about again?
Editor: Oh for fucks sake!!! You were talking about being a little shit who was attempting to turn coal to diamond using only his ass!
That's a little rough don't you think?
Editor: Just get on with it!!!
Okay. Fine.
The point that I was trying to make before I was interrupted was this. I was very serious, and often had a hard time understanding why people found many things fun. I often looked at peoples' reactions and found them to be incredibly immature, or terrifying. One example of this was horror films.
For the life of me I just couldn't understand why people enjoyed horror films at all. More often than not all I could see were overly graphic depictions of truly disgusting events. Lovers were impaled, heads and hearts were removed, tendons cut, and many more truly disgusting events paraded on the screen for the viewer to enjoy and cheer for. To my youthful, and overly pragmatic, mind the only conclusion was that everyone who enjoyed horror was a sadist. To a point that early conclusion still holds true. But you know who else enjoys horror movies?
People with a sense of humor.
This may seem like a rather large jump but try to follow me here. People go to horror movies. They sit in the chair, and watch the parade of horrors. Their palms sweat. Their muscles tense. Their breathing becomes erratic. And then...
They laugh.
Watch a group when they leave the theaters. Faces full of smiles. Oddly jovial recollections of scenes of gruesome violence. The horrors vividly remembered and laughed at hardily.
The ancient Greeks called this catharsis. A feeling of relief that what you just witnessed did not, in fact, happen to you. (I now feel my college degree was totally justified.)
I however did not laugh. It took me a long time to learn to truly laugh. And so I silently judged those who did.
Then something happened. People I knew, trusted, and respected began enjoying this genre. This flew in the face of everything I had assumed. These people were not sadists. They were not sociopaths. They were friends. And they knew something I did not.
Of these friends, one deserves special mention. Jerry. Or as those of us who have known him for a while like to refer to him, "The Corrupter." A dubious title to be sure, but apt in many ways. Jerry was really the first one to open my eyes to many of the things that judged from a distance, and horror movies were one of those things. Hanging out with him it became clear that it was okay to laugh, ever if there was no punchline. That sometimes the truly horrific could be truly funny if you would simply let it be. While I often refer to him as The Corrupter in order to yank his chain, if you will, the truth is it's a title given with a smile. I needed to be corrupted.
That's not to say that it happened over night.
Which brings me to Troll 2.
Editor: 'bout fucking time!
Shut up.
Troll 2 came into my life during a period of transition. I had begun trying to watch horror films, but not yet learned to laugh at them. I was also still young. In high school, but still the early years if I remember correctly. Troll 2 seemed perfect to cut my teeth on. You see HBO had recently started playing the film, and the film was rated PG-13. In case you've never had HBO let me translate. HBO played this movie to death. Nearly everyday, about three or four in the afternoon Troll 2 was on.
It seemed perfect.
Typical horror themes, (i.e. innocent family, horny teens, monsters out to kill them) easy to digest rating, and during daylight hours. That daylight thing was really important because when you don't know you can laugh, and take the film way too seriously, things seems way more frightening than they actually should. Light helps with this. But then something happened that I was ill prepared for. Troll 2 sucked. Bad.
If you've ever watched a horror film then you kind of expect this. Stupid and horror go together like PB and J. For every scene of violence in a horror film there are usually at least three others of people being complete and total fuckwits. While there are exceptions, in many ways this is the unspoken horror code. This also explains why you need a sense of humor to enjoy these films. Half the time these unbelievable moments of dumb are the best part. But as I stated earlier, I had not yet learned to laugh.
Had circumstances been different I might have never watched the film again. Content to call it crap and move on with my life. However HBO had other plans. As I mentioned earlier they kept playing this movie over and over again. In these days I simply couldn't understand why this movie would get so much play. Perhaps the men in charge at HBO simply knew something that I did not. So I gave the film another chance. And another.
And another.
After a while it had become some sort of bizarre tradition for me to turn Troll 2 on every time it played. Every time. And I never laughed.
Blissfully HBO stopped playing it (and I quit watching broadcast tv altogether) and life returned to normal. Troll 2 was a distant memory.
In the time since I have learned to laugh. These days I can laugh at almost anything given the right context. And I love to laugh at bad horror films. Yet to this day I've never laughed at Troll 2. In all honesty I'm not sure that I can. As strange as it sounds those scars run deep.
Which brings me to this little documentary called "Best Worst Movie". When I first heard of this all I wanted was for the makers of this movie to apologize. I wanted them to say, "I'm sorry" to me personally. While I never knew I wanted it I needed closure. Then I watched the trailer. What was contained within shocked me. There were no mobs wielding torches and pitchforks. No screams of righteous indignation. What were there?
Smiles.
Laughter.
Entertainment, pure and simple.
These were people that loved the movie. Not in spite of it's faults, but because of them. It made me wonder. I've watched Troll 2 repeatedly, but I don't know that I've ever truly seen it in the right light. I do not expect the film to ever be good. It will never be one of my favorites. But maybe this is the catharsis that I need.
Maybe I just need to laugh.
Warning. This will be long. This will be convoluted. This may or may not ever reach a truly satisfying end. This will not be as good as Inception, which also meets all of the above requirements. But, with a little luck this will explain my obsession.
Believe it or not this story starts long before the movie Troll 2 even came into existence. Hell we're going back before Troll 1 was even conceived. Do we have to do this? Probably not, but it's my story so I get to say where we go. And I say we look back to a time when I was a child.
A very serious child.
Very serious.
While I did have some sense of humor as a kid, it was a tightly guarded secret. I very rarely let it out. If anyone from back then thought that I didn't know how to laugh at all I really couldn't blame them.
Fun Fact: As those of you who know me currently already know I often plaster this horrible, toothy, fake smile on my face every now and then. That smile comes from this point in my life, because people kept telling me I should smile more. So I came up with that hideous Joker grin to shut them up. Oddly the smile stuck.
Editor: What the hell does you being a kid with a stick shoved firmly up his ass have to do with Troll 2?
Wait. You're back?
Editor: Back? I never left. I've been waiting here for you. But do you ever show? Do you ever write? No. So I've just been here waiting.
Wow... I'm sorry. I had no idea.
Editor: Don't be! It's been the best time of my life! Days, weeks, months have gone by without me having to listen to your incessant bitching! It's been bliss. Plus I've had time to catch up on my crocheting.
That is a nice sweater.
Editor: Thank you. But now you're back and my purgatory has begun once more. So let's get this over with so you can go away again.
(Vaguely uncomfortable.) Yeah, you're right. Um...
Editor: (Annoyed) What is it?
What was it I was talking about again?
Editor: Oh for fucks sake!!! You were talking about being a little shit who was attempting to turn coal to diamond using only his ass!
That's a little rough don't you think?
Editor: Just get on with it!!!
Okay. Fine.
The point that I was trying to make before I was interrupted was this. I was very serious, and often had a hard time understanding why people found many things fun. I often looked at peoples' reactions and found them to be incredibly immature, or terrifying. One example of this was horror films.
For the life of me I just couldn't understand why people enjoyed horror films at all. More often than not all I could see were overly graphic depictions of truly disgusting events. Lovers were impaled, heads and hearts were removed, tendons cut, and many more truly disgusting events paraded on the screen for the viewer to enjoy and cheer for. To my youthful, and overly pragmatic, mind the only conclusion was that everyone who enjoyed horror was a sadist. To a point that early conclusion still holds true. But you know who else enjoys horror movies?
People with a sense of humor.
This may seem like a rather large jump but try to follow me here. People go to horror movies. They sit in the chair, and watch the parade of horrors. Their palms sweat. Their muscles tense. Their breathing becomes erratic. And then...
They laugh.
Watch a group when they leave the theaters. Faces full of smiles. Oddly jovial recollections of scenes of gruesome violence. The horrors vividly remembered and laughed at hardily.
The ancient Greeks called this catharsis. A feeling of relief that what you just witnessed did not, in fact, happen to you. (I now feel my college degree was totally justified.)
I however did not laugh. It took me a long time to learn to truly laugh. And so I silently judged those who did.
Then something happened. People I knew, trusted, and respected began enjoying this genre. This flew in the face of everything I had assumed. These people were not sadists. They were not sociopaths. They were friends. And they knew something I did not.
Of these friends, one deserves special mention. Jerry. Or as those of us who have known him for a while like to refer to him, "The Corrupter." A dubious title to be sure, but apt in many ways. Jerry was really the first one to open my eyes to many of the things that judged from a distance, and horror movies were one of those things. Hanging out with him it became clear that it was okay to laugh, ever if there was no punchline. That sometimes the truly horrific could be truly funny if you would simply let it be. While I often refer to him as The Corrupter in order to yank his chain, if you will, the truth is it's a title given with a smile. I needed to be corrupted.
That's not to say that it happened over night.
Which brings me to Troll 2.
Editor: 'bout fucking time!
Shut up.
Troll 2 came into my life during a period of transition. I had begun trying to watch horror films, but not yet learned to laugh at them. I was also still young. In high school, but still the early years if I remember correctly. Troll 2 seemed perfect to cut my teeth on. You see HBO had recently started playing the film, and the film was rated PG-13. In case you've never had HBO let me translate. HBO played this movie to death. Nearly everyday, about three or four in the afternoon Troll 2 was on.
It seemed perfect.
Typical horror themes, (i.e. innocent family, horny teens, monsters out to kill them) easy to digest rating, and during daylight hours. That daylight thing was really important because when you don't know you can laugh, and take the film way too seriously, things seems way more frightening than they actually should. Light helps with this. But then something happened that I was ill prepared for. Troll 2 sucked. Bad.
If you've ever watched a horror film then you kind of expect this. Stupid and horror go together like PB and J. For every scene of violence in a horror film there are usually at least three others of people being complete and total fuckwits. While there are exceptions, in many ways this is the unspoken horror code. This also explains why you need a sense of humor to enjoy these films. Half the time these unbelievable moments of dumb are the best part. But as I stated earlier, I had not yet learned to laugh.
Had circumstances been different I might have never watched the film again. Content to call it crap and move on with my life. However HBO had other plans. As I mentioned earlier they kept playing this movie over and over again. In these days I simply couldn't understand why this movie would get so much play. Perhaps the men in charge at HBO simply knew something that I did not. So I gave the film another chance. And another.
And another.
After a while it had become some sort of bizarre tradition for me to turn Troll 2 on every time it played. Every time. And I never laughed.
Blissfully HBO stopped playing it (and I quit watching broadcast tv altogether) and life returned to normal. Troll 2 was a distant memory.
In the time since I have learned to laugh. These days I can laugh at almost anything given the right context. And I love to laugh at bad horror films. Yet to this day I've never laughed at Troll 2. In all honesty I'm not sure that I can. As strange as it sounds those scars run deep.
Which brings me to this little documentary called "Best Worst Movie". When I first heard of this all I wanted was for the makers of this movie to apologize. I wanted them to say, "I'm sorry" to me personally. While I never knew I wanted it I needed closure. Then I watched the trailer. What was contained within shocked me. There were no mobs wielding torches and pitchforks. No screams of righteous indignation. What were there?
Smiles.
Laughter.
Entertainment, pure and simple.
These were people that loved the movie. Not in spite of it's faults, but because of them. It made me wonder. I've watched Troll 2 repeatedly, but I don't know that I've ever truly seen it in the right light. I do not expect the film to ever be good. It will never be one of my favorites. But maybe this is the catharsis that I need.
Maybe I just need to laugh.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Death Bed
Sometime around the beginning of the month Zach came up with a brilliant idea. He was going to review 13 horror movies for the month of October. I thought to myself, "Self, that's a great fucking idea. I should totally steal it and do my own series of horror themed posts." So the mood was set and I prepared to immerse myself in various aspects of the world of horror.
Then I got lazy.
If you've been reading my rants for any length of time then you know that procrastination is one of my many antagonists. Yet today I find that I am ready to move forward on this noble pursuit. Why? I'll tell you.
The other day I was reading Zach's post. (Something I really recommend for everyone who might find themselves reading this. Not only has he put up some entertaining reviews, but he has also provided the link to a free horror short film and written a horror short story. Here's the link. Don't say I never gave you anything.) Upon a quick glance I noticed that he reviewed "Death Bed". However upon closer inspection he actually hadn't review the movie at all. What he had done was provide a basic explanation of some of the more ridiculous points of the movie, with a general statement that he wouldn't watch the film again to properly review it. And even worse he included Patton Oswalt's comedy routine about the movie. This my friends is dangerous in ways you may not even be aware of.
First of all it should be said; Oswalt's routine is fucking hilarious! I'm not kidding. You will laugh. The unfortunate side effect is that you will feel compelled to watch Death Bed after hearing it. It's what happened to me. No one should walk into that trap unprepared.
Sadly this is where I felt that Zach's post faltered. It shouldn't be a review. It shouldn't be a casual mention. No, it should be a warning. It should warn you to tread lightly when even thinking of approaching this film.
With this in mind we begin my review/warning of Death Bed. A movie that I have watched a second time, sober, so that I might save you from my fate.
You people fucking owe me.
The film begins with the opening title screen simply saying "Breakfast". Then we are shown a small brick room featuring the titular bed, and some guy sitting in a hole behind the room's sole painting. Who is this guy? Why is he behind the painting? Why does he talk to the bed when it clearly doesn't talk back? While some of these questions actually do get answered later in the film, the truth is this guy is our narrator. Let me tell you this guy is essential to the movie, especially later on. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
We cut to a young couple who apparently decided that a fun afternoon would be to break into a secluded mansion, and have a picnic. Yet when they find all the doors locked (magically by the bed) they find an open door leading to a cellar/guest room where the bed resides. The couple decided that the bed would be a perfect place to make out and so they do so. While the couple thumb wrestle with their tongues the bed eats there picnic lunch.
This is the first time we see the effect of the bed eating so it deserves some special mention. First you know the bed is about to eat something because it covers said item with a bunch of yellow foam. Second the devoured item falls through the surface of the bed into a a tank of yellow liquid that I can only assume is supposed to be the bed digestive tract. Third the item dissolves. That's it. You will see this scene repeated over and over again. It never gets any better.
The couple eventually notice there lunch has been eaten... But who cares?! There's sex to be had! So they begin to get all hot and heavy, somehow not noticing that the drapes around the bed are being pulled shut. Then the bed eats them.
Now maybe I've just had the world's most pedestrian sex, but I just can't see the attraction in fucking on a bed in basement of a abandoned building. I wouldn't be able to concentrate. The entire time I'd just be wondering when was the last time these sheets were washed? Also how many other couples had done this very thing? And lastly why is there a huge comfy bed, nicely made, in the fucking basement?!! These kinds of questions may keep me from having more interesting sex, but at least I won't ever find myself getting eaten by a goddamn bed!
Anyway the guy behind the painting call the bed stupid. The bed then retaliates by destroying the mansion... I think. Honestly this really isn't that clear, but I think the mansion is gone leaving nothing but the basement. Why did this happen? I have no idea what so ever.
Title screen "Lunch".
Oh hell... I'm not even 1/3 of the way through this thing yet am I? Is it too late to just back out of this whole ill-conceived idea? Could I just tell you it's really really bad and be done? Please?
Sigh...
Next we see a car with three women in it. Diane, a black woman. Sharon, Diane's friend. And Susan, someone who just came along for the ride but now wants to go home. Honestly that's all the character development we ever get. Really.
While in the car we hear Susan thinking to herself that she doesn't really want to be here, and is trying to think of a way to get the others to take her home. This moment really illustrates another big problem that I have with this movie. The characters never really talk. They all just do these long inner monologues to tell the audience what the actors are supposed to be feeling. I'm not kidding. About 90% of the spoken words you will hear are all someone talking to themselves for your benefit. Note to the director, this is not good film making.
In order to save myself a little pain I'm going to skip ahead a little bit. The girls find the bed Susan says she's not feeling well and decides to lie down while the other two go for a walk. In some ways Susan should feel honored. For one she's almost out of this film. Secondly she gets by far the best death scene.
Before the bed kills her it gives her nightmares about eating bugs. (We know this because the guy behind the painting tells us so.) Then the bed strips off all her clothes. Lastly the bed seems to cut her throat with her necklace. Then finally the bed eats her. The most amazing thing is that Susan never wakes up. The girl never even stirs. I thought I was a heavy sleeper, but I've got nothing on this chick.
Around this time we learn two important facts. Sharon's brother is looking for her. (Why he's looking for her is never explained.) And for some reason the bed really doesn't like Sharon.
The guy behind the painting wonders why the bed doesn't like Sharon, and so we get a flashback to all the people the bed has eaten. Seems like a pretty large logical leap to me, but fuck it, let's see where you're going with this movie.
In the flashback we see the bed eat a priest, old lesbian, and a lame servant girl. Then we get and entirely to long bit about how some guy tries to market the bed as a sexual aid (WTF!!!) before he and his friends finally get eaten. Then some gangsters get eaten. Lastly the guy behind the painting gets eaten.
That's right! The guy behind the painting was dying, of something I really don't know, when he got on the bed. So the bed stuck him behind the painting. Why? Why the fuck not! At this point the movie could have aliens teleport down from the mothership and do a musical number to the tune Michael Jackson's Thriller as interpreted by Salvador Dali. Believe it or not that would seem rather reserved compared to the bed's origin story.
You have no idea just how hard this next paragraph is going to be for me to write.
Just give me a moment.
...
...
...
...
...
I think I'm ready now. The bed's origin. Apparently a demon lives in a nearby tree, and decided to turn into a breeze. As a breeze the demon saw a girl it liked. So it made a bed to attract the girl and gave himself a human body to seduce the girl. Then, near as I can tell, the demon fucked the girl to death. This made the demon sad, and it cried tears of blood on the bed. Then the demon ran back to his tree. But the tears brought the bed to life! (And made it hungry?)
So what the hell did that have to do with anything? For once I actually have an answer. You see, the girl the demon boned to death and Sharon have the same color eyes and that makes the bed feel bad. I really not kidding. That's really the best the movie came up with.
"Dinner"
Thank Christ I'm almost done with this shit. In fact let's speed this process up a little more. Diane (The black chick. Remember her?) Gets eaten. Sharon tries to help, but fails. Sharon's brother shows up (Remember him?) and stabs the bed with a knife. This proves to be a really bad idea as the bed eats all the tissue off his hands leaving him with nothing but skeleton hands.
"The Just Dessert"
We're at the home stretch now. Of course this is also the moment where the film's most insane, nonsensical, and just down right painful moment happens. Try and stay with me here as this is going to be damn hard to explain.
Remember the demon that made the bed? Apparently he just fell asleep. Somehow this weakens the bed so the guy behind the painting can talk to Sharon. The guy tells Sharon to take her brother outside. Then she's supposed to make a giant figure eight with sticks. Then she needs to cut a giant figure eight around the bed. (Oddly the floor bleeds when cut.) Lastly she needs to build a little shrine out of her brother's hand bones, and her friend's hair.
So what does all this nonsense do? Three things actually. 1) It transports the bed outside. 2) Kills Sharon. 3) Resurrects the girl the demon fucked to death in the first place.
Why would you want to do this? Well you see the resurrected girl (totally nude by the way) finds Sharon's brother, and begins to make out with him in front of the bed. This causes the bed to explode.
Yes, you read that right. An undead naked girl kissing a guy with no hands made the bed blow up.
Just think about that for a while.
I've quite literally had conversations with schizophrenics that were easier to follow, and made far more sense.
And that's Death Bed in a nut shell. You've been warned.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Ninjas vs. Naked Women
Now after that title you maybe thinking that this is going to be a blog about which would win in a fight, ninjas or naked women. You would be wrong. Really I don't think that would be much of a battle. The ninja would win.
Please don't think that I've dismissed the naked woman's battle potential. Any man alive is well aware of the dangers of weaponized vagina. It is a powerful tool, that has been the downfall to countless men. That said I still believe it wouldn't be enough to defeat a trained assassin wielding a razor sharp katana. So, no this isn't a question of who would win in a fight. Rather it's a question of philosophy.
Confused yet? Allow me to explain. For the past 10 years or so I've lived by the philosophy that "Everything goes better with naked women." I've always liked this statement. It sounds good. Many people can agree with it. And I think it really says a lot about me as a person. (i.e. Someone who gets laid slightly less than a leper whose dick has recently rotted off.)
However upon closer scrutiny, the truth is, this concept just doesn't hold up. There are some situations that try as they might naked women just can't improve. And in these times really the only logical course of action is to substitute the naked women with ninjas.
The real question is when are ninjas better than naked women? And when is well proportioned mounds of jiggly woman flesh more appropriate?
These are the questions I hope to answer.
In an effort to be as scientific as I possibly can be, (and by "scientific" I mean nothing even close to science) I will be presenting various situations and the pros and cons of naked women versus ninjas.
Politics
Naked Women: For a moment let's remember back to the last Presidential race. Boring right? Let's face it, everyone knew who they were going to vote for before the debates. So really the question is "How couldn't the last presidential race have been improved by Naked women?" I certainly would have paid more attention. Granted I wouldn't have absorbed many of their policies, but I would watched a hell of a lot more.
Ninjas: On the flip side let's imagine if one of the candidates had been a ninja. During the debate the ninja would step up to the podium, clear his throat, and throw a smoke bomb to mask his get away. The crowd would be shocked. Everyone would be confused. Just where did candidate ninja go? It would be about ten minutes before anyone noticed that the other candidate's throat had been slit, and he was bleeding out behind the podium.
While I give the ninja points for simplifying the tedious process of voting, I'm a little concerned with this particular policy. You can't just kill all you're opposition. People have tried it before, and it never works in the long run. Naked women however just might make the whole process slightly more bearable.
Naked Women: 1
Ninjas: 0
Food Service
Naked Women: This is one of those scenarios where naked women seem destined to fail. There are two main reasons for this. First when I'm in a restaurant I'm thinking about food. Period. Everything else comes in second. The second problem is since I'm just thinking about food, if a naked person is involved, I'm suddenly thinking about all the hygiene problems inherent in such a scenario.
Ninjas: That being said, ninjas are trained killers. I'd have to imagine that anything a ninja served me was either poisoned or being used as a distraction to keep me from noticing a blade being slipped between my ribs.
Really my self preservation should make me choose the boobs, but in my stereotype infused mind I have to imagine that the ninja would make some AWESOME sushi. And I like sushi.
Naked Women: 1
Ninjas: 1
Standing in Line at the DMV
Naked Women: Uggh... The DMV. I personally believe this to be a long running psychological study to see how people react to boredom while standing in line. Well let me tell you, if you add naked women to the process, that line would get a lot more interesting.
Ninjas: Little known fact; Ninjas hate standing in line. Also ninjas are very proactive. So when presented with a line ninjas will move to the front as quickly as possible. Which means the ninja is going to cut in line. Which really means the ninja is going to cut in front of you. Just how much would that suck. You get to the front of the line then, bam, a cloud of smoke, and the next thing you know a ninja is standing in line in front of you. And if you value your life you can't say shit. I think its safe to say that ninjas would make the line worse.
Naked Women: 2
Ninjas: 1
School
Naked Women: We've all seen Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" video which I think really sums up the positives of this scenario. (Minus the men in spandex of course.) However I think it's important to remember that school takes place during a time of development (sexual and otherwise) for students. Being assaulted by random sexiness could be very confusing to a student. Also having to go up to the blackboard with a boner always sucks.
Ninjas: I'm not going to lie. I would listen to everything a ninja ever taught me. I don't care if it's algebra. I just know somewhere in my heart that one day that info world be useful to help me kill my enemies and disappear into the night.
Naked Women: 2
Ninjas: 2
Sex
Naked Women: If you don't know what naked women have to offer to sex then I highly suggest you do a google search for "porn" with all the filters turned off. Go ahead. I'll wait.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Done? Congratulations you are now the proud owner of 37 new computer viruses. Also unless all the sites you went to rather heavily featured the word "gay" you have an all too clear idea of what naked women have to offer to sex.
Ninjas: This one's a little more difficult. It's entirely possible that ninjas know secret pressure points that would make sex even better. (Ninjitsu aphrodisiac?) Also things like this help the argument.
However here that paranoia about getting killed would rear its ugly head again. I just don't think I'd be able to enjoy myself while constantly worrying which direction the attack is going to come from. Also if I've learned nothing else from adult Japanese cartoons, it's this. Sex-ninjas can only get off when molested by demons with 12+ tentacle penises.
I can't meet those kinds of expectations. So I'm going to have to give this one to the ladies.
Naked Women: 3
Ninjas: 2
So as we can see the Ladies are ahead, but not by much, and this list is nowhere near complete.
So what do you think? Is there anything I've left out or didn't consider? Should the ninjas have won?
Let me know.
In the meantime I'm going to look for pics of Naked Ninja Women, because they make everything better.
Please don't think that I've dismissed the naked woman's battle potential. Any man alive is well aware of the dangers of weaponized vagina. It is a powerful tool, that has been the downfall to countless men. That said I still believe it wouldn't be enough to defeat a trained assassin wielding a razor sharp katana. So, no this isn't a question of who would win in a fight. Rather it's a question of philosophy.
Confused yet? Allow me to explain. For the past 10 years or so I've lived by the philosophy that "Everything goes better with naked women." I've always liked this statement. It sounds good. Many people can agree with it. And I think it really says a lot about me as a person. (i.e. Someone who gets laid slightly less than a leper whose dick has recently rotted off.)
However upon closer scrutiny, the truth is, this concept just doesn't hold up. There are some situations that try as they might naked women just can't improve. And in these times really the only logical course of action is to substitute the naked women with ninjas.
The real question is when are ninjas better than naked women? And when is well proportioned mounds of jiggly woman flesh more appropriate?
These are the questions I hope to answer.
In an effort to be as scientific as I possibly can be, (and by "scientific" I mean nothing even close to science) I will be presenting various situations and the pros and cons of naked women versus ninjas.
Politics
Naked Women: For a moment let's remember back to the last Presidential race. Boring right? Let's face it, everyone knew who they were going to vote for before the debates. So really the question is "How couldn't the last presidential race have been improved by Naked women?" I certainly would have paid more attention. Granted I wouldn't have absorbed many of their policies, but I would watched a hell of a lot more.
Ninjas: On the flip side let's imagine if one of the candidates had been a ninja. During the debate the ninja would step up to the podium, clear his throat, and throw a smoke bomb to mask his get away. The crowd would be shocked. Everyone would be confused. Just where did candidate ninja go? It would be about ten minutes before anyone noticed that the other candidate's throat had been slit, and he was bleeding out behind the podium.
While I give the ninja points for simplifying the tedious process of voting, I'm a little concerned with this particular policy. You can't just kill all you're opposition. People have tried it before, and it never works in the long run. Naked women however just might make the whole process slightly more bearable.
Naked Women: 1
Ninjas: 0
Food Service
Naked Women: This is one of those scenarios where naked women seem destined to fail. There are two main reasons for this. First when I'm in a restaurant I'm thinking about food. Period. Everything else comes in second. The second problem is since I'm just thinking about food, if a naked person is involved, I'm suddenly thinking about all the hygiene problems inherent in such a scenario.
Ninjas: That being said, ninjas are trained killers. I'd have to imagine that anything a ninja served me was either poisoned or being used as a distraction to keep me from noticing a blade being slipped between my ribs.
Really my self preservation should make me choose the boobs, but in my stereotype infused mind I have to imagine that the ninja would make some AWESOME sushi. And I like sushi.
Naked Women: 1
Ninjas: 1
Standing in Line at the DMV
Naked Women: Uggh... The DMV. I personally believe this to be a long running psychological study to see how people react to boredom while standing in line. Well let me tell you, if you add naked women to the process, that line would get a lot more interesting.
Ninjas: Little known fact; Ninjas hate standing in line. Also ninjas are very proactive. So when presented with a line ninjas will move to the front as quickly as possible. Which means the ninja is going to cut in line. Which really means the ninja is going to cut in front of you. Just how much would that suck. You get to the front of the line then, bam, a cloud of smoke, and the next thing you know a ninja is standing in line in front of you. And if you value your life you can't say shit. I think its safe to say that ninjas would make the line worse.
Naked Women: 2
Ninjas: 1
School
Naked Women: We've all seen Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" video which I think really sums up the positives of this scenario. (Minus the men in spandex of course.) However I think it's important to remember that school takes place during a time of development (sexual and otherwise) for students. Being assaulted by random sexiness could be very confusing to a student. Also having to go up to the blackboard with a boner always sucks.
Ninjas: I'm not going to lie. I would listen to everything a ninja ever taught me. I don't care if it's algebra. I just know somewhere in my heart that one day that info world be useful to help me kill my enemies and disappear into the night.
Naked Women: 2
Ninjas: 2
Sex
Naked Women: If you don't know what naked women have to offer to sex then I highly suggest you do a google search for "porn" with all the filters turned off. Go ahead. I'll wait.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Done? Congratulations you are now the proud owner of 37 new computer viruses. Also unless all the sites you went to rather heavily featured the word "gay" you have an all too clear idea of what naked women have to offer to sex.
Ninjas: This one's a little more difficult. It's entirely possible that ninjas know secret pressure points that would make sex even better. (Ninjitsu aphrodisiac?) Also things like this help the argument.
However here that paranoia about getting killed would rear its ugly head again. I just don't think I'd be able to enjoy myself while constantly worrying which direction the attack is going to come from. Also if I've learned nothing else from adult Japanese cartoons, it's this. Sex-ninjas can only get off when molested by demons with 12+ tentacle penises.
I can't meet those kinds of expectations. So I'm going to have to give this one to the ladies.
Naked Women: 3
Ninjas: 2
So as we can see the Ladies are ahead, but not by much, and this list is nowhere near complete.
So what do you think? Is there anything I've left out or didn't consider? Should the ninjas have won?
Let me know.
In the meantime I'm going to look for pics of Naked Ninja Women, because they make everything better.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Swimming
So as some of you may know I've been sick for the past couple of days. While this really hasn't affected my unemployed lifestyle all that much, it has hindered one activity that I've been enjoying recently; swimming.
For many of you this will seem like an odd choice of activity for me. You'd be right. "So why did you start?" is probably the question you're asking right now. (Actually the question you're probably asking is, "Is he still talking?" But it's my blog and I'll put words in your mouth if I want to. So, nah!)
Well consider this my origin story.
It all started about 15 years ago when my class took a field trip to a science lab and I was bit by a radioactive spider.
Editor: Oh for fuck's sake!
What?
Editor: That's Spider-Man's origin story.
It's not my fault Stan Lee used my story to create his iconic character.
Editor: You were born in, what? 1977?
Yeah...
Editor: Spider-Man was created in 1962 you dumb ass!
Okay the truth is I really don't know my origin. You see I was found wandering in the Canadian wilderness with no memories of my past. My only clue were metal claws that would
Editor: Wolverine.
Look, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry!
Editor: The Hulk. What's next? Super soldier serum? Millionaire parents killed in front of you? Maybe you're a alien from a doomed planet who likes to uphold American values and wear tights.
Uhh...
Editor: I'm really not looking for a fight today. Just give us the truth.
I... got fat.
Editor: What was that? I couldn't quite hear you.
I got fat.
Editor: BWAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! You see!!! You should have used the Blob's origin story you tubby bitch!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!! (Panic in his voice) Wait! What are you doing?!!! (Wild animal screams followed by wild human screams followed by a sudden disturbing silence.)
All done?
Editor: (Meekly) Where... did... you... get... a... badger?... (Passes out from rectal (?) blood loss.)
You never know when those things are going to come in handy.
Alright so the truth is out. I got fat. Months of inactivity and alcohol abuse took their toll. Also it should be noted that I have finally reached that fun age where me and my metabolism are no longer friends. In fact we are now mortal enemies. (Fun fact: My metabolism and I were supposed to finally settle our differences in the steel cage at UFC 100, but somehow the marketing people though Lesner was a bigger draw. No accounting for taste.) I've been aware of the problem for a while, but I'd gotten pretty good at ignoring it. At least until my Structural Intergration class. As many of you may know I'm studying a form of very deep tissue massage that attempts to effect the very structure of the human body. What you may not know is that after every other session we take a picture of ourselves, in bascially nothing but our underwear, so we can see what has changed after the session. This is never going to be a flattering photo, but I was ill prepared for what I saw.
I looked like a, slighty retarted, far less threating version of the Stay Puft Marshmellow Man. With an Autobots symbol. And hair.
Needless to say this was only a slighty better wake up call than, say, waking up and finding Rush Limbaugh trying to stuff his dick in your mouth. (The plus side to the Limbaugh situation is that you could be perfectly justified in beating the ever loving shit out of the man. And let's face it we've all wanted to do it, but don't want to get caught.) Something NEEDED to happen.
My teacher suggested swimming.
Now there a few problems that I have with this concept.
First I haven't swam in years, and when I did I sucked. Bad. Seriously I think people were worried I was having a seizure in the pool. I'm amazed no one jumped in to "rescue" me. So yeah I suck. But because of my size I have to go to some kind of lap pool, because in a normal pool one push off the side and I'm on the other side. No exercise occuring there. Really my only opition is to go to the big kid's pool and swim there. So what's the problem? You know who swims at lap pools? Do you?
People who can swim, that's who. So you're surrounded by people who KNOW how much you suck. Because, you know, they don't. Now I know what you're thinking. "People out there to swim aren't paying attention to you." While you do have a point you're forgeting something. Lifeguards. That's right, these people are payed to sit and watch you suck.
Hell, even the KIDS are good swimmers. Nothing is more frustrating that trying to do a physical activity and being schooled by a 9 year old.
You know, I think the next sport I pick up will be boxing. Think about it. I don't care how good some little nine year old phenom is. Chances are the little bastard won't even be able to hit me above the belt without jumping, and hitting me below the belt is against the rules. I like my odds. You put him in the ring with me and I WILL knock him the fuck out!
By the way, did I mention I'm available for childrens' birthday parties?
So yeah I suck. But really that's not the problem. The problem was my previously mentioned marshmellow appearence. Honestly the weight wasn't as big of a deal as I expected. You see, there's an almost equal ratio of overweight to perfectly fit people at the pool. It's strange because you really don't think of these groups as interacting together. It's almost like footage of different animals drinking at the same watering hole on the Discovery Channel. Of course that footage almost always ends with one of the stronger sleeker animals killing and eating one of the more docile ones.
My advise when going to the pool is this. Find someone slower than you. Stick close to them. If the shit goes down push the slower person in the way. Hopefully this will give you time to escape.
This advice can also be used in case of a zombie outbreak.
(Why do I assume so many things will end in cannibalism?)
No the real problem was my skin tone. Or to be more specific my total lack skin tone. Honestly I look like an albino covered in SPF 1000 sunscreen and white paint. Don't believe me? Totally true story. One of the first times I went out to the pool a fucking moth landed on me. Think about that for a minute. Middle of a cloudless, sunny, day next to a white building, and yet appearently this moth thought I was the brightest fucking thing around. I should really consider renting myself out as a light source.
But something odd happened. I tanned. I have never tanned. The other day I put on a white shirt, and I was darker than the shirt. It's sad how hard this was for me to comprehend. I just kept looking at myself in the mirror, with a look of utter confusion on my face.
Appearently I have the comprehension level of a hampster.
Still eventually I got over all this shit and got my ass to the pool. And you know what? I feel really good. I don't know if I've lost any flab, but I feel far better about myself. And really I think that's the most important thing.
Editor: (coming to) All that shit, and you wind it all up with a couple of sugary lines that could have been lifted from a PSA?
Well... Knowing is half the battle.
Editor: ugh...
Where did I put that badger?
For many of you this will seem like an odd choice of activity for me. You'd be right. "So why did you start?" is probably the question you're asking right now. (Actually the question you're probably asking is, "Is he still talking?" But it's my blog and I'll put words in your mouth if I want to. So, nah!)
Well consider this my origin story.
It all started about 15 years ago when my class took a field trip to a science lab and I was bit by a radioactive spider.
Editor: Oh for fuck's sake!
What?
Editor: That's Spider-Man's origin story.
It's not my fault Stan Lee used my story to create his iconic character.
Editor: You were born in, what? 1977?
Yeah...
Editor: Spider-Man was created in 1962 you dumb ass!
Okay the truth is I really don't know my origin. You see I was found wandering in the Canadian wilderness with no memories of my past. My only clue were metal claws that would
Editor: Wolverine.
Look, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry!
Editor: The Hulk. What's next? Super soldier serum? Millionaire parents killed in front of you? Maybe you're a alien from a doomed planet who likes to uphold American values and wear tights.
Uhh...
Editor: I'm really not looking for a fight today. Just give us the truth.
I... got fat.
Editor: What was that? I couldn't quite hear you.
I got fat.
Editor: BWAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! You see!!! You should have used the Blob's origin story you tubby bitch!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!! (Panic in his voice) Wait! What are you doing?!!! (Wild animal screams followed by wild human screams followed by a sudden disturbing silence.)
All done?
Editor: (Meekly) Where... did... you... get... a... badger?... (Passes out from rectal (?) blood loss.)
You never know when those things are going to come in handy.
Alright so the truth is out. I got fat. Months of inactivity and alcohol abuse took their toll. Also it should be noted that I have finally reached that fun age where me and my metabolism are no longer friends. In fact we are now mortal enemies. (Fun fact: My metabolism and I were supposed to finally settle our differences in the steel cage at UFC 100, but somehow the marketing people though Lesner was a bigger draw. No accounting for taste.) I've been aware of the problem for a while, but I'd gotten pretty good at ignoring it. At least until my Structural Intergration class. As many of you may know I'm studying a form of very deep tissue massage that attempts to effect the very structure of the human body. What you may not know is that after every other session we take a picture of ourselves, in bascially nothing but our underwear, so we can see what has changed after the session. This is never going to be a flattering photo, but I was ill prepared for what I saw.
I looked like a, slighty retarted, far less threating version of the Stay Puft Marshmellow Man. With an Autobots symbol. And hair.
Needless to say this was only a slighty better wake up call than, say, waking up and finding Rush Limbaugh trying to stuff his dick in your mouth. (The plus side to the Limbaugh situation is that you could be perfectly justified in beating the ever loving shit out of the man. And let's face it we've all wanted to do it, but don't want to get caught.) Something NEEDED to happen.
My teacher suggested swimming.
Now there a few problems that I have with this concept.
First I haven't swam in years, and when I did I sucked. Bad. Seriously I think people were worried I was having a seizure in the pool. I'm amazed no one jumped in to "rescue" me. So yeah I suck. But because of my size I have to go to some kind of lap pool, because in a normal pool one push off the side and I'm on the other side. No exercise occuring there. Really my only opition is to go to the big kid's pool and swim there. So what's the problem? You know who swims at lap pools? Do you?
People who can swim, that's who. So you're surrounded by people who KNOW how much you suck. Because, you know, they don't. Now I know what you're thinking. "People out there to swim aren't paying attention to you." While you do have a point you're forgeting something. Lifeguards. That's right, these people are payed to sit and watch you suck.
Hell, even the KIDS are good swimmers. Nothing is more frustrating that trying to do a physical activity and being schooled by a 9 year old.
You know, I think the next sport I pick up will be boxing. Think about it. I don't care how good some little nine year old phenom is. Chances are the little bastard won't even be able to hit me above the belt without jumping, and hitting me below the belt is against the rules. I like my odds. You put him in the ring with me and I WILL knock him the fuck out!
By the way, did I mention I'm available for childrens' birthday parties?
So yeah I suck. But really that's not the problem. The problem was my previously mentioned marshmellow appearence. Honestly the weight wasn't as big of a deal as I expected. You see, there's an almost equal ratio of overweight to perfectly fit people at the pool. It's strange because you really don't think of these groups as interacting together. It's almost like footage of different animals drinking at the same watering hole on the Discovery Channel. Of course that footage almost always ends with one of the stronger sleeker animals killing and eating one of the more docile ones.
My advise when going to the pool is this. Find someone slower than you. Stick close to them. If the shit goes down push the slower person in the way. Hopefully this will give you time to escape.
This advice can also be used in case of a zombie outbreak.
(Why do I assume so many things will end in cannibalism?)
No the real problem was my skin tone. Or to be more specific my total lack skin tone. Honestly I look like an albino covered in SPF 1000 sunscreen and white paint. Don't believe me? Totally true story. One of the first times I went out to the pool a fucking moth landed on me. Think about that for a minute. Middle of a cloudless, sunny, day next to a white building, and yet appearently this moth thought I was the brightest fucking thing around. I should really consider renting myself out as a light source.
But something odd happened. I tanned. I have never tanned. The other day I put on a white shirt, and I was darker than the shirt. It's sad how hard this was for me to comprehend. I just kept looking at myself in the mirror, with a look of utter confusion on my face.
Appearently I have the comprehension level of a hampster.
Still eventually I got over all this shit and got my ass to the pool. And you know what? I feel really good. I don't know if I've lost any flab, but I feel far better about myself. And really I think that's the most important thing.
Editor: (coming to) All that shit, and you wind it all up with a couple of sugary lines that could have been lifted from a PSA?
Well... Knowing is half the battle.
Editor: ugh...
Where did I put that badger?
Rereading that last post
So I just reread a little of that last post before I re-posted it. I've got to say I actually think my concept for a Transformers sequel was a FAR better plot than what Bay actually came up with for "Revenge of the Fallen".
And my plot involved a serial killer getting turned into a giant robot.
Sadly, I'm not kidding.
And my plot involved a serial killer getting turned into a giant robot.
Sadly, I'm not kidding.
Friday the 13th Part 3: The Final Chapter
(Originally posted Saturday, February 14, 2009)
By now it should be pretty apparent that I'm going to tell you every damn thing that happened in the movie. So if you keep reading, don't come crying to me saying that you felt that I ruined the movie for you. You've been warned. Repeatedly. Take some responsibility.
Now, on with the review.
Oh, something that I forgot to mention at the end of the last chapter. That second opening sequence was basically the remake of Friday the 13th Part 2. So following that logic, the rest of the film is a remake of Part 3. Sort of.
Once again we fade in on a bunch of "kids" driving a shiny new SUV in a rather rural looking area. This time we have text reading, "6 weeks later." The kids stop to get some gas and water from a country store, which gives the filmmakers a chance to introduce this new batch of murder set pieces.
Just as before labeling them by their appropriate stereotype is much easier than trying to remember any name. So as the car opens, and the future kill count spills out revealing: 2 white assholes, 2 blond twits, 1 stoned Asian guy, 1 black guy who knows he's a stereotype, and (you guessed it) 1 nice brunette with small boobs. Yeah, I'm putting my money on the brunette to pull through.
AH1 (asshole #1) and brunette go inside the store where we meet *gasp* another ridiculously well sculpted young man talking with the cashier. We'll call him Bro, because as luck would have it, it turns out this young man is Guilty Girl's sister. Turns out Bro is looking for Sis (Guilty Girl's new name for the purpose of the review) who went missing about 6 weeks ago. This prompts AH1 to tell Bro to get out of the way, because he wants to buy his bottled water, and of course Brunette has to apologize for him being a dick.
Everybody leaves the store, with Bro going his separate way via motorcycle. (Because he's a rebel.) After about a block Bro is pulled over by a cop who tells Bro to just go home. Apparently the police have already done their investigation and didn't find Sis or her friends.
At this point I'd make some snide comment about how the crack police force looked really, REALLY, hard (honest) for 6 whole weeks, and didn't find anything. So obviously she couldn't be anywhere around here. (Apparently they even conducted interviews.) But given some of the shit that happens in the movie it just isn't worth it.
Moving on.
So it seems AH1's family is rich, and has a lake house on (you know what's coming don't you) Crystal Lake. Also it seems that AH1 HATES all of his friends except for Brunette.
Back to Bro who's handing out fliers of Sis to the locals by going door to door. The first house he stops at belongs to a creepy old woman who says; Sis is dead, outsiders don't know where to walk, the locals want to be left alone, and "he" wants to be left alone. She then shuts the door and walks away.
Pop Quiz time again. Obviously this old bitch knows what's going on. If you were in this situation would you...
A) Continue to quiz the woman until she tells you exactly what she knows about what happened to your only sister.
B) Get the police and make them interview her. (Because they clearly missed her testimony during their thorough investigation.)
C) Maybe go to the library and see if maybe there is some sort of public record about the woman and missing people. (For those of you who like to think outside the box.)
D) Just leave, and never again question what this woman just told you.
You guessed it he just leaves, and goes to interview some dickhead with a wood chipper. (This dickhead shall be known as "Dickhead" for the rest of the review.) Turns out Dickhead hasn't seen Sis either, but he does have some weed to sell. Apparently he has also found this abandoned pot field.
This raises an interesting question for me. Who's growing this shit? Is Jason growing it? Maybe that's why he keeps killing people. It's not some twisted sense of justice for his mother. He just wants to keep these kids from stealing his shit. Sadly that actually makes a lot more sense to me, but unfortunately the filmmakers never explore this option.
Instead Bro declines Dickhead's offer. Back at the Lake house AH2 (Asshole #2) and BT1 (Blond Twit #1) borrow AH1's SUV to check out the other side of the lake.
We return to Dickhead who is starting to light up a joint and masturbate, when he hears a noise upstairs. So Dickhead goes upstairs, makes some lewd gestures toward a mannequin, and gets killed by Jason.
Jason Kill Count: 5
"So what, exactly, was the point of that?" you may ask. Well, you see, up until this point Jason has been wearing a burlap sack over his head. While killing Dickhead, Jason's sack came off. But luckily for Jason there just happens to be a old hockey mask that fits him, just right. Now that the icon is complete we go back to our kids acting like dumb fucks.
So Bro, still passing out fliers, shows up at AH1's house. AH1 tells him to get the fuck out. Brunette decides to go with Bro into the woods together. Why she does this is anybody's guess. I gave up trying to figure out how women think a LONG time ago.
On the other side of the lake AH2 and BT1 decide to go water skiing. Topless. Of course Jason kills them both.
Jason Kill Count: 7
While the kids at the lake house play drinking games, Bro and Brunette find themselves at the ruins of Camp Crystal Lake.
?
?!
?!!!
I'm sorry, but WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!!! IF YOU'RE GOING TO PASS OUT FLIERS, WHY IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ARE YOU WANDERING IN THE WOODS AT NIGHT, TO A CAMP SITE THAT WAS ABANDONED OVER 20 FUCKING YEARS AGO?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Honestly, does that leap in logic make sense to anybody? I'm going to make a wild leap here, but wouldn't it make more sense to go somewhere with, oh I don't know, people? Am I wrong here?
*sigh*
Well, guess what happens when you go to Camp Crystal Lake? That's right Jason shows up lugging a dead body. Luckily Bro and Brunette had the forethought to hide, and even more amazing once he's gone they decide to run. (Actual survival instinct in a slasher film? What is this world coming to?)
So we see Jason drag his kill into some kind of makeshift cellar. Seems Jason is a bit of a pack rat. He's got all kinds of shit down here including a chained up, but still breathing Sis. Yeahbutwhat?!!!
It seems that Sis looks a lot like Jason's mother, and so Jason wants to keep her. How do we know this? Well you see Jason has his mother's locket. Inside the locket is a portrait of Jason mom. And when you see the portrait you can see that Sis looks NOTHING AT ALL like Jason's mom.
Back to the lake house. SA (Stoned Asian) breaks a chair, and goes down to the tool shed to get a screwdriver to fix it. BG (Black Guy) continues to get stoned. AH1 and BT2 go off to have sex.
So SA gets to the shed breaks more shit, and Jason shows up and stabs him with a screwdriver. The really impressive thing here is how Jason keeps sneaking up on people. Think about it. The dude's, like, 7 feet tall, in a hockey mask, wearing heavy fucking work boots, and near as I can tell hasn't taken a bath since Crazy Bitch died 20 years ago. How the hell could that combination seek up on anyone. I guess he's just that good.
Jason Kill Count: 8
Remember during Part 2 when I said the sex scene was really, really, bad? Well the sex between AH1 and BT2 is way worse. These two have no chemistry. None. Hell, I'd go so far as to say they have negative chemistry. And while they may not be repelling each other, they sure as hell are repelling me. I think the biggest problem is that for some reason the director thought they should talk. So AH1 proceeds to talk about her tits, and her nipple placement. (I'm so not making this up.) Even worse is that after delivers these lines with all the confidence of that kid on the short bus who flings his poo at the chalk board. She actually seems charmed (?!!!) by these tender comments. (As a side note if I ever meet a girl who tells me that this is what she's looking for in a guy I'm giving up on pussy for good. Because I will NEVER be able to match that expectation.)
While they have sex Bro and Brunette come back, and call the cops. Really? No shit? Maybe I was too hard on these kids. Then the phone and power go dead. BG runs out to the tool shed to get SA.
...
I take back anything nice I said about these kids.
BG finds SA dead. Finds Jason alive. Tries to fight. Gives up. Runs... And gets a axe in the back. But he's not dead... Until Jason shoves the Axe through his chest.
Jason Kill Count: 9
Also somehow Jason gets inside and kills BT2. (We'll miss her tits and well placed nipples.)
Jason Kill Count: 10
Then the cop shows up. Jason kills him too.
Jason Kill Count: 11
Bro, AH1, and Brunette decide to run. Bro and Brunette go one way AH1 goes another. Running blindly through the woods AH1 busts out into the middle of an unmarked road where he almost gets hit by a tow truck. A hand from the driver's window beckons him closer. AH1 is cautious. Could that be Jason in the truck. Stupid Asshole, that's Jason behind you stabbing you with a machete and impaling you on the back of the tow truck as it speeds off.
Jason Kill Count: 12
As we bid adieu to Asshole #1 I'd like to share a thought I had earlier. The thing is we've seen AH1 before in another movie. You'd probably remember him playing Megan Fox's asshole (ex)boyfriend in the live action Transformers movie. In fact he seems to be playing the exact same character. Hell, I think he's even driving the same stupid SUV. Also both movie take place in the Michael Bayverse. So I'm thinking AH1 could be our gateway to seeing an incredible spectacle of stupid that would be called... Transformers vs. Jason.
You don't look convinced. Yes I know the concept is stupid. That's just it! It's SO stupid that it's flipped the gauges and become awesome. This is how I see the plot going.
Megan Fox learns of the death of her ex, and even though he was a dick she still feels kind of bad. She gets Optimus Prime and the rest of the Autobots to check out Crystal Lake where they find a crazed mutant named Jason going murderific on some teenagers who won't get off his fucking lawn. Well the Autobots stop and capture Jason, cause they don't kill humans. But little did they know what remains of the Decepticons are watching. Realizing Jason's potential for destruction, they free him, and use a small shard of the All-Spark (they just happened to find it you see) to change Jason into Ultravorhees. A mindless killing machine on par with anything the Autobots have to throw at him. I'm also thinking he should transform into a GIANT FUCKING ZAMBONI!!!!!
*crickets chirping*
You know a Zamboni... Cause he wears a hockey mask... Going with the whole hockey theme...
*yet more crickets*
Well I think it'd be awesome.
Fine. Back to the movie. So Bro and Brunette run to Jason's house. (These must be the smallest woods ever. I've been in playgrounds with more set pieces.) There they find Sis in the basement. They free her, but Jason shows up, so all three run off down a tunnel. Finally they find an exit. Bro goes through. Sis goes through. Brunette gets stabbed through the heart.
Jason Kill Count: 13
Actually this really surprised me. She didn't do drugs. She didn't have sex. I don't even think she ever cussed. She was just hot and friendly. Usually in horror movies being hot and friendly is how you survive. Though I have to admit with the return of Sis, Brunette really did become rather superfluous. Really do we really need two hot survivors?
The exit actually seems to come up next to Dickhead's wood chipper. Thanks to a heavy use of set pieces, and Jason thinking Sis is his mom, (I still don't see it) Bro and Sis are able to get a chain around Jason's neck, over a rafter, and into the wood chipper which acts like a wench hanging Jason. But of course Jason's too heavy and the rafter breaks. Now Jason's being pulled to the wood chipper. But he's too strong and is able to keep his head out of the chipper. Well, until Sis stabs him in the chest with his own machete. But even then only the very top of his tumorific head makes it to the chipper blades. Still he seems to be dead, so Bro and Sis drop his body in the lake.
If you've ever even heard of a horror movie before you know what's going to happen.
Undead Jason jumps out of the water for one last scare. And we go to the credits.
One last gripe and were done. But, why wouldn't you, oh I don't know, hack up the remains of his body and feed every inch of him into the wood chipper? Seriously if some giant mutant shows up, kills all of my friends, and I'm somehow able to take him down, you better believe I'm going to go all kinds of Fargo on his ass.
So that's it. That was the Friday the 13th remake. Was it worth all this effort? Probably not. But that's not the real question. The real question is was the movie worth your time? All I can say is, that depends. As I stated in the very beginning I love horror films. Despite all my (obvious) problems with the film I have to admit I was entertained.
Either you like these movies or you don't.
I for one, can't wait for Transformers vs. Jason.
Night all.
By now it should be pretty apparent that I'm going to tell you every damn thing that happened in the movie. So if you keep reading, don't come crying to me saying that you felt that I ruined the movie for you. You've been warned. Repeatedly. Take some responsibility.
Now, on with the review.
Oh, something that I forgot to mention at the end of the last chapter. That second opening sequence was basically the remake of Friday the 13th Part 2. So following that logic, the rest of the film is a remake of Part 3. Sort of.
Once again we fade in on a bunch of "kids" driving a shiny new SUV in a rather rural looking area. This time we have text reading, "6 weeks later." The kids stop to get some gas and water from a country store, which gives the filmmakers a chance to introduce this new batch of murder set pieces.
Just as before labeling them by their appropriate stereotype is much easier than trying to remember any name. So as the car opens, and the future kill count spills out revealing: 2 white assholes, 2 blond twits, 1 stoned Asian guy, 1 black guy who knows he's a stereotype, and (you guessed it) 1 nice brunette with small boobs. Yeah, I'm putting my money on the brunette to pull through.
AH1 (asshole #1) and brunette go inside the store where we meet *gasp* another ridiculously well sculpted young man talking with the cashier. We'll call him Bro, because as luck would have it, it turns out this young man is Guilty Girl's sister. Turns out Bro is looking for Sis (Guilty Girl's new name for the purpose of the review) who went missing about 6 weeks ago. This prompts AH1 to tell Bro to get out of the way, because he wants to buy his bottled water, and of course Brunette has to apologize for him being a dick.
Everybody leaves the store, with Bro going his separate way via motorcycle. (Because he's a rebel.) After about a block Bro is pulled over by a cop who tells Bro to just go home. Apparently the police have already done their investigation and didn't find Sis or her friends.
At this point I'd make some snide comment about how the crack police force looked really, REALLY, hard (honest) for 6 whole weeks, and didn't find anything. So obviously she couldn't be anywhere around here. (Apparently they even conducted interviews.) But given some of the shit that happens in the movie it just isn't worth it.
Moving on.
So it seems AH1's family is rich, and has a lake house on (you know what's coming don't you) Crystal Lake. Also it seems that AH1 HATES all of his friends except for Brunette.
Back to Bro who's handing out fliers of Sis to the locals by going door to door. The first house he stops at belongs to a creepy old woman who says; Sis is dead, outsiders don't know where to walk, the locals want to be left alone, and "he" wants to be left alone. She then shuts the door and walks away.
Pop Quiz time again. Obviously this old bitch knows what's going on. If you were in this situation would you...
A) Continue to quiz the woman until she tells you exactly what she knows about what happened to your only sister.
B) Get the police and make them interview her. (Because they clearly missed her testimony during their thorough investigation.)
C) Maybe go to the library and see if maybe there is some sort of public record about the woman and missing people. (For those of you who like to think outside the box.)
D) Just leave, and never again question what this woman just told you.
You guessed it he just leaves, and goes to interview some dickhead with a wood chipper. (This dickhead shall be known as "Dickhead" for the rest of the review.) Turns out Dickhead hasn't seen Sis either, but he does have some weed to sell. Apparently he has also found this abandoned pot field.
This raises an interesting question for me. Who's growing this shit? Is Jason growing it? Maybe that's why he keeps killing people. It's not some twisted sense of justice for his mother. He just wants to keep these kids from stealing his shit. Sadly that actually makes a lot more sense to me, but unfortunately the filmmakers never explore this option.
Instead Bro declines Dickhead's offer. Back at the Lake house AH2 (Asshole #2) and BT1 (Blond Twit #1) borrow AH1's SUV to check out the other side of the lake.
We return to Dickhead who is starting to light up a joint and masturbate, when he hears a noise upstairs. So Dickhead goes upstairs, makes some lewd gestures toward a mannequin, and gets killed by Jason.
Jason Kill Count: 5
"So what, exactly, was the point of that?" you may ask. Well, you see, up until this point Jason has been wearing a burlap sack over his head. While killing Dickhead, Jason's sack came off. But luckily for Jason there just happens to be a old hockey mask that fits him, just right. Now that the icon is complete we go back to our kids acting like dumb fucks.
So Bro, still passing out fliers, shows up at AH1's house. AH1 tells him to get the fuck out. Brunette decides to go with Bro into the woods together. Why she does this is anybody's guess. I gave up trying to figure out how women think a LONG time ago.
On the other side of the lake AH2 and BT1 decide to go water skiing. Topless. Of course Jason kills them both.
Jason Kill Count: 7
While the kids at the lake house play drinking games, Bro and Brunette find themselves at the ruins of Camp Crystal Lake.
?
?!
?!!!
I'm sorry, but WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!!! IF YOU'RE GOING TO PASS OUT FLIERS, WHY IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ARE YOU WANDERING IN THE WOODS AT NIGHT, TO A CAMP SITE THAT WAS ABANDONED OVER 20 FUCKING YEARS AGO?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Honestly, does that leap in logic make sense to anybody? I'm going to make a wild leap here, but wouldn't it make more sense to go somewhere with, oh I don't know, people? Am I wrong here?
*sigh*
Well, guess what happens when you go to Camp Crystal Lake? That's right Jason shows up lugging a dead body. Luckily Bro and Brunette had the forethought to hide, and even more amazing once he's gone they decide to run. (Actual survival instinct in a slasher film? What is this world coming to?)
So we see Jason drag his kill into some kind of makeshift cellar. Seems Jason is a bit of a pack rat. He's got all kinds of shit down here including a chained up, but still breathing Sis. Yeahbutwhat?!!!
It seems that Sis looks a lot like Jason's mother, and so Jason wants to keep her. How do we know this? Well you see Jason has his mother's locket. Inside the locket is a portrait of Jason mom. And when you see the portrait you can see that Sis looks NOTHING AT ALL like Jason's mom.
Back to the lake house. SA (Stoned Asian) breaks a chair, and goes down to the tool shed to get a screwdriver to fix it. BG (Black Guy) continues to get stoned. AH1 and BT2 go off to have sex.
So SA gets to the shed breaks more shit, and Jason shows up and stabs him with a screwdriver. The really impressive thing here is how Jason keeps sneaking up on people. Think about it. The dude's, like, 7 feet tall, in a hockey mask, wearing heavy fucking work boots, and near as I can tell hasn't taken a bath since Crazy Bitch died 20 years ago. How the hell could that combination seek up on anyone. I guess he's just that good.
Jason Kill Count: 8
Remember during Part 2 when I said the sex scene was really, really, bad? Well the sex between AH1 and BT2 is way worse. These two have no chemistry. None. Hell, I'd go so far as to say they have negative chemistry. And while they may not be repelling each other, they sure as hell are repelling me. I think the biggest problem is that for some reason the director thought they should talk. So AH1 proceeds to talk about her tits, and her nipple placement. (I'm so not making this up.) Even worse is that after delivers these lines with all the confidence of that kid on the short bus who flings his poo at the chalk board. She actually seems charmed (?!!!) by these tender comments. (As a side note if I ever meet a girl who tells me that this is what she's looking for in a guy I'm giving up on pussy for good. Because I will NEVER be able to match that expectation.)
While they have sex Bro and Brunette come back, and call the cops. Really? No shit? Maybe I was too hard on these kids. Then the phone and power go dead. BG runs out to the tool shed to get SA.
...
I take back anything nice I said about these kids.
BG finds SA dead. Finds Jason alive. Tries to fight. Gives up. Runs... And gets a axe in the back. But he's not dead... Until Jason shoves the Axe through his chest.
Jason Kill Count: 9
Also somehow Jason gets inside and kills BT2. (We'll miss her tits and well placed nipples.)
Jason Kill Count: 10
Then the cop shows up. Jason kills him too.
Jason Kill Count: 11
Bro, AH1, and Brunette decide to run. Bro and Brunette go one way AH1 goes another. Running blindly through the woods AH1 busts out into the middle of an unmarked road where he almost gets hit by a tow truck. A hand from the driver's window beckons him closer. AH1 is cautious. Could that be Jason in the truck. Stupid Asshole, that's Jason behind you stabbing you with a machete and impaling you on the back of the tow truck as it speeds off.
Jason Kill Count: 12
As we bid adieu to Asshole #1 I'd like to share a thought I had earlier. The thing is we've seen AH1 before in another movie. You'd probably remember him playing Megan Fox's asshole (ex)boyfriend in the live action Transformers movie. In fact he seems to be playing the exact same character. Hell, I think he's even driving the same stupid SUV. Also both movie take place in the Michael Bayverse. So I'm thinking AH1 could be our gateway to seeing an incredible spectacle of stupid that would be called... Transformers vs. Jason.
You don't look convinced. Yes I know the concept is stupid. That's just it! It's SO stupid that it's flipped the gauges and become awesome. This is how I see the plot going.
Megan Fox learns of the death of her ex, and even though he was a dick she still feels kind of bad. She gets Optimus Prime and the rest of the Autobots to check out Crystal Lake where they find a crazed mutant named Jason going murderific on some teenagers who won't get off his fucking lawn. Well the Autobots stop and capture Jason, cause they don't kill humans. But little did they know what remains of the Decepticons are watching. Realizing Jason's potential for destruction, they free him, and use a small shard of the All-Spark (they just happened to find it you see) to change Jason into Ultravorhees. A mindless killing machine on par with anything the Autobots have to throw at him. I'm also thinking he should transform into a GIANT FUCKING ZAMBONI!!!!!
*crickets chirping*
You know a Zamboni... Cause he wears a hockey mask... Going with the whole hockey theme...
*yet more crickets*
Well I think it'd be awesome.
Fine. Back to the movie. So Bro and Brunette run to Jason's house. (These must be the smallest woods ever. I've been in playgrounds with more set pieces.) There they find Sis in the basement. They free her, but Jason shows up, so all three run off down a tunnel. Finally they find an exit. Bro goes through. Sis goes through. Brunette gets stabbed through the heart.
Jason Kill Count: 13
Actually this really surprised me. She didn't do drugs. She didn't have sex. I don't even think she ever cussed. She was just hot and friendly. Usually in horror movies being hot and friendly is how you survive. Though I have to admit with the return of Sis, Brunette really did become rather superfluous. Really do we really need two hot survivors?
The exit actually seems to come up next to Dickhead's wood chipper. Thanks to a heavy use of set pieces, and Jason thinking Sis is his mom, (I still don't see it) Bro and Sis are able to get a chain around Jason's neck, over a rafter, and into the wood chipper which acts like a wench hanging Jason. But of course Jason's too heavy and the rafter breaks. Now Jason's being pulled to the wood chipper. But he's too strong and is able to keep his head out of the chipper. Well, until Sis stabs him in the chest with his own machete. But even then only the very top of his tumorific head makes it to the chipper blades. Still he seems to be dead, so Bro and Sis drop his body in the lake.
If you've ever even heard of a horror movie before you know what's going to happen.
Undead Jason jumps out of the water for one last scare. And we go to the credits.
One last gripe and were done. But, why wouldn't you, oh I don't know, hack up the remains of his body and feed every inch of him into the wood chipper? Seriously if some giant mutant shows up, kills all of my friends, and I'm somehow able to take him down, you better believe I'm going to go all kinds of Fargo on his ass.
So that's it. That was the Friday the 13th remake. Was it worth all this effort? Probably not. But that's not the real question. The real question is was the movie worth your time? All I can say is, that depends. As I stated in the very beginning I love horror films. Despite all my (obvious) problems with the film I have to admit I was entertained.
Either you like these movies or you don't.
I for one, can't wait for Transformers vs. Jason.
Night all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)