"Dumb and Dumber To" Review

Click on  that lovely logo to get yourself some of my super important thoughts on the new sequel.

WORST BLOGGER EVER HE NEVER WRITES BLOGS

Hey everyone! Long time - no anything...

Cinapse has kept me pretty busy since I started writing for them, but the plan is to get back in action over here as soon as possible.

Next week... I might even review something...

For the time being, you should do yourself a favor and check out all the good October reading Cinapse has to offer on horror movies to find or forget.

http://cinapse.co/2014/10/15/pick-of-the-week-in-the-mouth-of-madness-carpenters-whacko-ode-to-h-p-lovecraft/

If you click the link above, it will take you to my take on John Carpenter's In The Mouth of Madness.

Go on and click it. It's good for you.

See? Sam Neill clicked and he's feeling great!

The Loving Embrace of Cinapse.co

Hey all you people who don't know me from Facebook or real human contact!

I thought I should share some exciting news with you.

Last week, I became the newest staff member of the lovely...

All you have to do is click the image above to unlock a thoughtful overflow of cinema nerdery.

We review new theatrical releases, home video releases, personal favorites, classics, and more...
(now including weekly recaps of a few choice television shows (whoever watches that stuff...))

You should check out the site right away, but also like the facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/cinapseblog

And follow us on twitter:
@CinapseNews

Doing both of the above-mentioned thangs will not only give you piece-by-piece updates on all the new material to read, but could also result in your winning some WAY COOL STUFF FOR FREE!!!!

"FREE STUFF?  Holy SHIT!"
         -Anyone Who Breathes

I will continue to post here weekly, but there will be a lot more blah blah blah from me at my new home.  Please show them some love... for showing me some love.

...while you're doing all that liking, couldn't hurt to run over to MY facebook page and give me the like, as well...
https://www.facebook.com/ryanucm

Movie forth, cinema soldiers!

"Sin City: A Dame to Kill For" Review

• Release date: August 22^nd, 2014 (U.S.)
• Director: Robert Rodriguez, Frank Miller
  
• Writer: Frank Miller
• Editor: Robert Rodriguez
• Score Composer: Robert Rodriguez
• Cinematographer: Robert Rodriguez
• Budget: UNKNOWN (by me)
• Current Domestic Gross $475,000
• Material: Digital 
• Aspect ratio: 1.85 : 1
• Running time: 102 Min.
• Current Tomato Meter: 43%

            When I was 17, Sin City came barreling onto the big screen in an explosion of sex, style, violence, and noir anti-heroism. Needless to say, I found that kind of exciting. Only once before had we seen a film shot entirely on a green screen soundstage as an obvious stylistic choice (the maligned Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow… never saw it), and since then, the use and popularity of the exercise has ebbed and flowed.  I can think of several titles off the top of my head which featured the practice for select shots, at least.  Ever since the Star Wars prequels hit theaters, filmmakers have applied it to action and fantasy movies easy (and somewhat stealthy) placement of their characters into a fantastical landscape.  It often works to great affect (the opening moments of Man of Steel), but it has also felt like a crutch bolstering weak material (Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland).  In the long-awaited sequel, Sin City: A Dame to Kill For, I’m afraid I have to report it has more in common with the latter.

            We’re back in black and white and sometimes gold, red, blue, and green land, and everybody is up to no good.  Mickey Rourke killed some evil frat boys and can’t remember where he got his coat.  Joseph Gordon-Levitt is having no gambling problems what so ever until he faces Powers Boothe.  Josh Brolin has an abusive relationship with the sociopathic femme fatale Eva Green, and Jessica Alba is an alcoholic stripper who wants revenge.  Sound interesting?  Kinda?

            It just isn’t.  Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller have assembled a cast almost as cool as they had back in 2005, but the stories aren’t nearly so much fun or harrowing as they were back then.  Most of the performances seem phoned-in, and even the more committed actors only inspire a chuckle here or there.  I remember being sad when Marv (Mickey Rourke) died in Sin City.  Marv… the guy with the most contrived, frightening and outdated moral code ever assembled.  I loved him!  I still do, actually.  Rourke, along with Boothe, Green, and Rosario Dawson manage to shine through the rest of the film’s mundane indifference, but I could care less who comes out on top.

            The visuals aren’t helping much, either.  Between the blocking and camera placement, it is often hard to know if anyone was paying attention.  That’s not to say any moment is confusing, or disorienting.  I always understood what I was looking at, but in a film I hear was mostly shot one actor at a time (resulting in compositing multiple actors in the same scene in post production), I have to wonder if some good old-fashioned composition would have helped a movie which has the potential to do ANYTHING with its image.  The movie plods along from scene-to-scene, and vignette-to-vignette, in such a tiresome fashion, it feels more like the forgotten project someone finally got around to begrudgingly completing.  By the time Jessica Alba cuts her hair and face and is reborn looking like Michael Jackson The Vampire Slayer… I was ready to go home.

I got up to pee during this movie.  ME.  I got up and left... while the movie was playing…  

R.I.P. Robin Williams

             I entered my apartment after work on August 11 with every intention of doing laundry, wiping countertops, clearing my desk of spent coffee containers, and maybe even working out.  I pulled two items from my mailbox, noticed neither was addressed to my girlfriend, or myself (because that’s how mail works around here), and brought them inside to introduce the parcel boo-boo’s to our garbage can.  I held one envelope in each hand while Katha asked me about my day, and as I answered her, she interrupted me with, “What!?  Robin Williams died!?”  I involuntarily moved my left hand in a counter-clockwise circle, and my right hand in the opposite direction, but sent only the right-handed envelope limply airborne.  I could hardly spare a moment’s thought to what my body had just done without my blessing, what with all the images flashing through my mind of a man who arrested so much of my childhood attention.  Although I like to think I know how I will “mourn” the passing of any loved artist (when Bob Dylan finally bites it, you won’t hear from me for a good 24 hours), I was apparently caught completely off guard when I was told Robin Williams had committed suicide.  It was almost as though I naturally felt the need to throw something, even if it happened to be so unsubstantial as a notice from a stranger’s debt collector.  What is substantial, however, is the effect his career had on me, and the rest of my generation.  Personally, losing him was like losing an estranged relative.             

            He was exactly the kind of person I wanted to be when I was a child.  I idolized him as I delighted in his every move.  Somewhere on a dusty old VHS tape, there may yet exist a clip from Nick News with Linda Ellerbee (HA, you forgot about that shit, right?) from 1993(?) featuring the late actor “discussing” comedy with a small and stunned audience of children.  Williams was given a box of props, and 10 minutes, and I thought I had rediscovered humor.  Watching him feverishly work dozens of jokes into this humble set was almost too much for my young mind to process.  I had already seen him in a couple movies, but I had never before experienced the riffing abilities on which we have all been reflecting this week.  He was so sharp, so quick, so endlessly full of funny, and I was instantly addicted to the unequivocal joy of making people laugh. 

            I was always a ham (as soon as I finally started speaking, anyway), and growing up watching him in films like Hook (a beautifully imaginative movie about fatherhood, childhood, and family), Mrs. Doubtfire (a ludicrous excuse to get Williams in drag – still one of the funniest family-friendly comedies of the 90’s) and even Father’s Day (not a big winner, but Williams’ character is pretty delightful), made me want to give people the same chaotic release of endorphins he had given me.  I understood this was a valuable skill, and I was desperate to make it mine.  Thanks to him (not to mention Jim Carrey and Mike Meyers), my family had many an opportunity to sit through a post-dinner improvised comedy routine.  They were good sports… really good sports.  As I remember it, these things would typically last until I could no longer achieve a 9-year-old’s comedic apex (whatever the hell that would have been like… look, I remember them laughing).  As I grew, his career continued to grow with me.

            By the time Mrs. Doubtfire was experiencing “drive-by fruitings”, Williams had already taken several roles in dramas.  I caught many of them in the early 90’s, but it wasn’t until 2002’s One Hour Photo that I was shocked by his abilities as an actor.  Regardless of what affect that stunning performance may have had on me, what really changed me was watching the film, itself.  For most of the guys and gals I met in film school, 2001: A Space Odyssey was the work that changed the way they thought about movies.  For whatever reason (probably the age at which I first saw it), Kubrick’s seminal masterpiece just didn’t make that happen for me.  This one did.  Mark Romanek’s “official” writer/director debut is by no means a perfect film.  It is, however, thoughtfully designed a shot.  Its use of light, color, and camera movement was not only great to look at, but spoke to the film’s meaning, and how Sy Parrish (Williams) felt about each space he inhabited at any given moment.  For the second time in my life, this great comedian had shaped my life’s trajectory. 

            Basically, he led me here.  I wish I had more to show for it at a time when I am paying tribute to a man who had so much influence on me.  Writing a blog as an aspiring film critic, rather than a professional one just isn’t that significant.  Still, this is what I want to do.  Robin Williams indirectly sent me on a course from telling jokes at the dinner table, to starring in high school plays.  He then sent me to film school, and from being a filmmaker, to a film critic, and entertainment writer.  Now, I have the sad task of wishing him farewell.  I may have lost track of him over the past several years, but I was always excited to see what his next project would be.  Even with FOUR posthumous releases coming down the shoot, I can’t help but feel there is nothing left to look forward to.  Robin William’s career is over, and no matter how far away I get from the comedies that exhausted my sister and I in laughter as children, losing him is like losing a dear friend.           

            Fortunately, he happens to have quite a career behind him.  He had roles in over 40, many of them worth your time (and several that are not), and even his recently canceled TV show The Crazy Ones is something you should check out.  I can’t end this without recommending Bobcat Goldthwait’s 2009 film, World’s Greatest Dad.  Its themes and events might be a little too much to stomach so close to its star’s suicide, but you should watch it as soon as possible.  Stream-able on Netflix, it follows the noble, then not-so-noble actions of a father after his jerk-water son accidentally kills himself.  It results in a brilliant satire about the cult of celebrity, but it has just as much to say about the exploitation of tragedy for political or personal gain.  It’s funny, damn smart, and even just a little bit moving.  Sounds about right for a man of his talents. 

            Hard to end this without getting mushy(er)… I guess I’m done.

Goodbye, Mr. Williams.

             

"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" (2014) Review

• Release date: August 8th 2014 (U.S.)
• Director: Jonathan Liebesman
• Writers: Josh Appelbaum, Andre Nemec, Evan Daugherty
• Editors: Joel Negron, Glen Scantlebury
• Score Composer:  Brian Tyler
• Cinematographer:  Lula Carvalho
• Budget: $125 million
• Domestic gross: Currently Unknown
• Material: Digital
• Aspect ratio: 2.35 : 1
• Running time: 101 minutes
• Current Tomato Meter: 18%

           I used to work a job as an auto insurance underwriter.  I reviewed, for the most part, identical auto policies (usually around 40 in an eight hour work day) for boo-boo’s, illegalities and whether or not the customer was compatible with the company program.  I’m telling you this so you know I am experienced with boredom.  I know it well.  Tonight, however, I spent so much time with boredom that it took on a separate and sentient personality within my mind.  He became something of a pet.  He is mine.  I named him.

My boredom’s name is Deeders Tarmopolis Shneolonia.  

That's the kind of time I had.

            The turtles are back, and that pesky Shredder (now a flaccidly mysterious Japanese dude wearing samurai inspired robo-armor) wants to attack New York City with a deadly-owie-producing gas so he can “have control of the city” (but we are never told why), and so his partner in crime, Erich Sachs (the usually great William Fichtner), can become super rich by producing the antidote… the mutagen which created the heroes on the half-shell and their rat sensei.  April O’neil (Megan Fox), a struggling small-time reporter this time around, knows there are vigilantes saving the city from Shredder’s Foot Clan, but everyone she tells (including her boss, Whoopi Goldberg, who disappears 40 minutes in) thinks she is beyond crazy.

            That crazy thing – that could have provided some much-needed funny.  Instead, every moment Fox spends speaking dialogue on screen makes you wonder if these lines were programmed, rather than learned and studied.  I’m not saying she was given a screenplay worth studying, though.  The material found in this, the fifth big screen adaptation of the popular comic book, is among the simplest I’ve encountered this summer.  Having said that, there would still be enough humor to capitalize on (with a script clearly designed for easy laughs) if it weren’t for the nearly incompetent direction by Jonathan Liebesman.  The majority of the jokes bounced off me like the bullets fired at our heroes near the end of the film (yeah… they are bulletproof now.  Not bladeproof, apparently… what with all the ducking and deflecting Shredder’s attacks).  Numerous moments of silence, or awkward beats, seemingly deliberately timed to suspend a punch line were followed by… usually nothing.  Including the rarely exciting fight scenes, it’s all setup for hardly any payoff.

            The turtles themselves, only occasionally able to dodge the filmmaker’s weaknesses as frequently as their opponents’ gunfire, manage to charm just barely enough to make me not want them to receive physical or emotional harm.  That’s about all I can say for their efforts.  Once they realize they are impervious (adding that cherry atop the fully-loaded sundae of being 7 feet tall/500 pounds of pure muscle each), there isn’t much point in hanging around to see how they will save the day.  I spent most of my time listening to the children surrounding me say funny things to their adults about “take me doodie” and “THAT WAS A FUNNY PART!”  Based on my experience, I do at least know it can entertain tiny children, but apparently not enough to coax bowel movement restraint.  Whether doodie, or funny, I was checked out after 30 minutes.  Sure, it has other problems, some of them very weird (like where are these mountains just outside of New York which are covered in snow in the spring?), but I am already tired of talking about it… oh yeah, there are sexual harassment jokes…

Is it the worst movie ever? No.  That qualification does not, however, make it worth your time or money.

"Guardians of the Galaxy" Review

• Release date: August 1st 2014 (U.S.)
• Director: James Gunn
• Writers: James Gunn, Nicole Perlman
• Editors: Craig Wood, Fred Raskin, Hughes Winborne
• Score Composer:  Tyler Bates
• Cinematographer:  Ben Davis
• Budget: $170 million
• Domestic gross: $160 million and counting
• Material: Digital
• Aspect ratio: 2.35 : 1
• Running time: 122 minutes
• Current Tomato Meter: 92%

           Comic book movies are here to stay.  It has now been over a decade since Hollywood began pumping out films based on graphic novels which managed to please both audiences and critics regularly.  The quality is often as high as the budget, and with the help of an enthusiastic foreign patronage, the dollars return in quantities higher than those sent off to die in the film production war.  Fine by me.  I like these movies almost as often as the majority of attendees (X-men: Days of Future Past being part of that “almost” factor), and I am always up for another science fiction movie.  Regardless of the source material, or the sub-genre title given to this particular group of films, every one fits the term sci-fi just fine.  The interstellar vessels explode, the laser guns blast, the anthropomorphic raccoon has a traumatic existential crisis.  When I want an action/adventure delivery system, a movie with that kind of stuff is my preferred mode of transport, and Guardians of the Galaxy is just as good a method as any to get it to me.

            Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) is out to find a mysterious orb which holds something everyone in the universe needs at any cost.  Having no desire to learn its secrets, he absconds with it, now a fugitive from the law, and from his former partners in crime.  During his attempt to sell the orb, he attracts the attention of above-mentioned raccoon, Rocket (Bradley Cooper), Gamora (Zoe Saldana), Drax (Dave Bautista), humanoid/possibly feeble giant tree, Groot (Vin Diesel) and far more threatening bad guys, Ronan the Accuser, and Thanos.  As the anti-heroes slowly realize they are more effective in profiting from the orb’s sale by teaming up, they make their way to another planet, and another… and back again… whatever.

            The story happens, but what keeps us interested is learning the sad, funny, or honorable histories lurking beneath what could be considered archetypical characters.  The whole thing gradually increases in humor, excitement, and visual splendor as it goes along, but for nearly the first quarter of the running time, I was wondering what all the fuss was about.  Most of the jokes fall flat, the writing seems to miss a lot of opportunities, and the action sequences don’t pay off.  When you show up to a movie expecting, if absolutely NOTHING else, to be entertained, all of my $10.50 (and that is cheap compared to coastal cities) better be spent on a two hour long fun-splotion.  Still, I have to admit, by the end of the movie, I could hardly remember a moment that didn’t work.  This one, here… is a genuine summer movie experience.

            Looking perfectly cartoonish in his starring role, TV funnyman, Pratt, surprisingly seems to sit back and let the rest of the cast take the big laughs.  The biggest shock in the bunch is Dave Bautista, the latest pro-wrestler to take a shot at movie stardom plays one of my most favorite characters this year.  Much like Worf, from Star Trek, or Ka D’argo from Farscape, he is the kind of naturally funny warrior whose masculinity is perfectly balanced by a scewed sense of honor and dutiful respect for his allies.  He is a joy to watch, as are the two all-computer-generated fighters, Rocket and Groot, and every image on the screen, from character, to set designs is astonishing. 

            I have not seen a movie look this good, with a fictional world this feverishly detailed and realized, since The Empire Strikes Back.  Writer/director, James Gunn, is brave enough not to choose convenience at every turn in creating this universe.  Many alien figures have been crafted using make-up over the skin of live performers, rather than doctored later by effects teams sitting at computers.  90% of the time, you are looking at the real thing, and it makes an immense difference.  Not to sell the value of CGI short, every task designated to those computer-sitters has been fulfilled in its most beautifully realistic execution.  It may not be the most fun you ever had at the theater, but plenty of care has been taken with this clever piece of work.  I doubt you will be asking for an end to the comic book adaptation trend by the time the credits role.

Mad Max is Bax

I wish to share with you what I can assume most of you already know.

A series of films most dear to my heart (yes, even the Tina Turner one) is getting another sequel.

Another sequel?

30 YEARS AFTER THE THIRD MOVIE!?!?!

I know what you're thinking....

"There is no way that could be good."

Foolish mortal!  Allow me to present the following as evidence to the contrary:

TRAILER

Click that thang!

Tom Hardy

Normally... that would be enough to merit at least curiosity.

... but there was that whole This Means War thing.

Here's the deal, though: "Mastermind George Miller" as he is credited in above-linked trailer is back at the helm.  The creator of the series has returned to present his new vision of the post-apocalyptic demolition derby.  That doesn't happen very often... especially in Hollywood.  It might be good.  It could be great.  It could, admittedly, be a tired re-working of the previous installments' best moves.

Fingers crossed for that middle option!

I would also like to alert you to this little morsel:

This is the first time the entire trilogy has been released in the same package.  Apparently it comes complete with zero supplementary material... we might have to wait for the release of the new film to get at Mr. Miller's extra bits of film.  Regardless, I will be picking this up when I review the series before the release of Fury Road next year if I must (first world problem).

Review of Hercules, starring The Rock

Hercules (2014)

Click that shit up there and see what I thought of the latest Hercules movie!

Not sure what the next project will be... but it will most likely be written for this blog, rather than for the good folks over at Cinapse.  

If any of you happen to feel like suggesting a series of films, or a single film to review, I would wet myself with delight!  Just comment on this post, or head over to my facebook page here.

Give me a like and tell me what you want reviewed!

Post #3 on Hercules at Cinapse!

http://cinapse.co/2014/07/21/the-champion-of-men-hercules-the-hollow-humanitarian/

Cinapse Ho!  Get thee to yonder website and make read of it!

Only a couple days left before we finally receive the latest iteration of Hercules, so it's time to catch up with what has happened in the 90's and later.  Click the link, read my editorial, and let me know what you think by leaving a comment.

Special bonus: a likeness of Hercules I graphically designed.

I know.....

I'm brilliant.

My review of the new film will be online Friday afternoon.

Part 2 of Hercules in Cinema!

http://cinapse.co/2014/07/15/quantity-over-quality-hercules-gets-pumped-up/

My second post on Hercules can be read at Cinapse!  Click the link and leave a comment!

Editorial posted at Cinapse!

Hey Everybody!

For those of you I am unable to bug through facebook: new column over here...

http://cinapse.co/2014/07/07/this-is-a-mans-world-hercules-in-the-italian-sword-and-sandal-era/

Give 'er the old click treatment, and read the first of three write-ups on Hercules in Cinema.  

Red, Black and Blue: A 4th of July Action Marathon Curated by The UCM

White House Down (2013)

            Roland Emmerich

Rambo III (1988)

            Peter MacDonald

Team America (2004)

            Trey Parker

Independence Day (1996)

            Roland Emmerich

            This Friday morning, when you greet the blood-red dawn by leaping out from under your American flag comforter, landing feet-first in your American flag thongs, clutching your limited edition Lynyrd Skynyrd alarm clock by the testicles and smashing it against the wall nearest you like it called your father a coward, then I know you know what time it is.

...and that’s a real weird existence you’ve got there, partner.

But damn, have I got the ultimate cinematic experience prepared for the greatest birthday on earth(second only to that of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, of course): Inde-fucking-pendence Day!  Four films have been hand-selected by The UCM in honor of the four most important days in the history of the entire 6,000 year-old universe: July 1, 2, 3, and 4!  Strap in, beer up, and burger out, because it’s time to watch Old Glory teach the world, and anyone foolish enough to invade: they best behave.

             To be earnest folks, I devour the hours leading up to any holiday planning how to best celebrate it.  I’m a dweeb that way.  I devote as much October time as possible to watching Horror movies.  When Christmas comes along, I do all the Christmas things all the Christmas time.  Hell, even St. Patrick’s Day receives a solid 16 hours of my aural attention by way of The Chieftains, or some other Irish ensemble.  Why should The 4^th of July be any different?  You’re not working (unless you’re in retail…sucker), you fear the outdoors, and you find that packing a holiday full of art and culture speaking directly to the chosen day’s values is the best way to get at its significance.  I doubt many of you are making plans for vigorous flag-waving, or even launching fireworks, but it doesn’t matter.  You don’t have to be a patriot, or a war hawk, or in any way fond of your home country to find enjoyment in studying its people’s outlook on Independence Day through cinema. 

            Not every film I have selected takes place on, or around July 4^th (okay, only one of them does), but they all dig into a certain American experience… mostly the one that involves handing someone their own ass.  Coincidentally, I have assembled a playlist offering each of America’s major political associations: Democrat, Republican, Libertarian(ish) and… what I like to think of as… U.C.B.P. (United Confederates of Bill Pullman).  Whatever flavor citizen you might be, I think watching these four movies in succession will lend a good deal to mull-over… and laugh at.

            I recommend we begin with White House Down, the latest work from apparent left-wing nutcase, Roland Emmerich.  You may recall this movie’s quiet arrival and quieter exit one year ago… and you may not.  Nobody saw this thing, and what a shame!  The film begins harmlessly enough, telling the story of the Speaker of the House’s bodyguard (Channing Tatum) who dreams of joining The Secret Service.  He takes his daughter on a tour of The White House when it is attacked by American Terrorists, and he is The Only One who can save President Jaime Fox, or whatever his name is.  It offers loads of fun, charm, and dumb, and then it loses its damn mind.  Saving the finer details for your maximum viewing pleasure, I will tell you the third act closes on what might be considered the Democratic antithesis to the Rambo franchise.  This is an almost hateful liberal action fantasy.  Imagine if Fox News supported the Obama Administration and made movies… instead of whatever it is they think they’re currently doing.  I was struck by irrepressible claughter (simultaneous laughter and clapping) at the climax, and it was just my girlfriend and me at home on a Sunday.  I can’t imagine what it would be like seeing it in a crowded theater.

            From there, let us gleefully tote our hand grenades across the aisle, and catch up with the 80’s.  The Rambo series was a Rocky one (heh… see what I did?).  First Blood is still an excellent film (and oddly anti-war, or pro-veteran?) and it deserves your attention.  Rambo: First Blood Part II is boring and sooper stoopid.  Rambo, however (That’s the fourth one… are you keeping up?), isn’t bad either, and in many ways, treats warfare with more respect and honesty than even the first installment.  That leaves us with the least honest, yet most reasonably titled film in the franchise: Rambo III (you see, because it is the third one).  Watching this film is a bizarre experience for my generation; like a violent episode of Sliders staged in an alternate Iraq war, but this movie takes place in an historical conflict observed at the time of its release.  During the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, John Rambo (Sly Stallone) has to stop stick fighting and building Buddhist temples in Thailand because his buddy was captured in a secret attempt at foiling the Russians.  In Afghanistan, Rambo’s buddy is being tortured and spouting criticisms at his Soviet captors which sound eerily similar to those brought by the voices against the war in Iraq a few decades later.  Meanwhile, elsewhere in Afghanistan, Rambo is learning all about the rich culture of their people and their weird dead goat polo game.  Oh, and 'how brave this child soldier' is!  I don’t want you to think I am saying Afghanistan and Iraq might as well be the same country, and I am certainly not saying the two military events were the same conflict.  The similarities are found within this work of fiction, and that, coupled with some powerfully outrageous violence, makes it a lovely addition to this marathon.

            Now that you are hopefully 10 beers deep, it’s time for a short detour into (intentional) comedy, where we find what I still believe is one of the funniest political satires since Dr. Strangelove.   Team America: World Police was released a decade ago (Oh lord… I’m old.), and although I admit it doesn’t hit quite as hard as it did when I was 17, it remains a damn smart movie, and an interesting time capsule remembering a moment in a war that may never end, but looks completely different today.  I consider this the closest thing to a libertarian outlook (one that best fits the tone of the marathon overall), by virtue of its creators’ regular use of a meet-in-the-middle, nothing is black-and-white voice of reason.  By the time the “Dicks, pussies and assholes” monologue is delivered a second time, it’s perfect accuracy is almost frightening.  From its merciless send-up of both America’s propensity for military hand-slapping, and Hollywood’s often numbskull brand of action cinema, you find yourself wishing Stone and Parker would move away from South Park to make more movies and musicals.

            Although these selections may seem obvious, I did not come to this assortment rashly.  I realized I had never caught an entire Chuck Norris movie, so Missing In Action was my maiden voyage into his hairy-shouldered world.  If you thought Rambo had a neurosis over the “unfinished” war in Vietnam, Norris’s James Braddock is certifiably insane by comparison.  I also watched White House Down’s darker twin, Olympus Has Fallen, and I considered The Patriot, but none of these movies met the mark, and couldn’t even aspire to the fun-levels achieved by the “title track” of this E.P. of super-patriotism.

            I have always loved Roland Emmerich’s entertainment masterpiece, Independence Day.  It is appropriate that we should bookend our 4^th of July with films directed by a German dude who loves America in the weirdest ways imaginable.  I saw this in theaters when it was released, and at age 9, it was tailor-made for my attention span.  What a clip!  At only 13 minutes, the aliens have already arrived.  It’s party time from beginning to end.  The characters are appealing, though mostly one-dimensional, the action sequences are unique visions of epic destruction, and the jingoism is ripe and bountiful.  Some of the effects work might not have aged well, but the nationalism is just as cuckoo and delicious as it was almost 20 years ago.  The rest of the planet wasn’t exactly sitting around waiting for America’s word to start fighting the invaders, but they sure are excited that we have a plan to lead a world-wide counter-strike!  “Sure, America!  We will immediately jump into whatever preposterous strategy you have, current enemy/current-and-somewhat-trusted-ally!  Thank God for you!  No qualms here, smartest country on earth!  We are so lucky your M.I.T. graduate cable repairman is the only science person around who could think of using a computer virus to bring down force fields.  Boy, it’s fortunate those alien operating systems apparently function pretty similarly to ours!  Makes perfect sense to us!”  Of course, the best part for all those other countries is now, they get to celebrate the best holiday ever, as was so eloquently expressed by Bill Pullman at the final battle’s dawn.

            By now, if you’re doing it right, you have narrowly escaped alcohol poisoning, and consumed so much red meat, you resist a supernatural urge to “moo”.  As much as I would have liked to present you with something thoughtful… some sort of thesis to prove about Hollywood’s skewed position on our military might, perhaps… that just wasn’t my plan.  I wanted to recommend a perfect day of America-centric patriot-sploitation for your eyes and hearts to munch.  Congratulations, U.S.A.!  You lost the World Cup (2014), but you could still win your freedom from Britain if you somehow lost it again!

Update on Absence

Readers,

On the off chance some of you have found your way to my blog somewhat miraculously, that is to say... via aimless internet wandering, rather than a friend I regularly coerce into reading my occasional post, I thought I should address you complete strangers who are free from my direct
Facebook harassment.

Canadians, Spaniards, Germans, and South Koreans...

Hi!

I like you!

I have been away from weekly reviews of new releases because I am gearing up for some more extreme franchise/genre-specific wordsploitation for both my humble blog, and a website in Austin, TX. 


 Please visit this website:
www.cinapse.co

 They are nice to me and they like movies.


For The Underemployed Cinema Major, you can be looking forward to:

"Red Black and Blue: A 4th of July Action Marathon Curated by The UCM".

At Cinapse, I will be contributing a few pieces covering Greek Mythology's greatest hero, Heracles (Hercules to the Romans), in anticipation of the Bret Ratner(fart sound)-helmed Hercules, starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson(applause sound and fainting).

Keep the looks out!  And, if you have not already, please visit my Facebook page and like the shit out of me!
https://www.facebook.com/ryanucm

"A Million Ways to Die in the West" Review

• Release date: May 30^th, 2014 (U.S.)
• Director: Seth MacFarlane
• Writers: Seth MacFarlane, Alec Sulkin, Wellesley Wild
• Editors: Jeff Freeman
• Score Composer:  Joel Mcneely
• Cinematographer:  Michael Barret
• Budget: $40 Million
• Domestic gross: unknown
• Material: Digital
• Aspect ratio: 2.35 : 1
• Running time: 116 minutes
• Current Tomato Meter: 34%

            When I first caught the redband A Million Ways to Die in the West trailer, I was immediately concerned by how funny it was.  In my experience, a trailer packed to its limits in funny, means every good joke has already been used.  The first example springing to mind is Wayne’s World 2.  That’s a damn funny trailer, because the entire movie is contained within.  You will most certainly get a good laugh out of seeing this trailer, but you will have made viewing the film obsolete by doing so.  I am happy to say AMWTDITW (...Jesus) is not entirely guilty of that sin.  This is a comedy with laughs to offer well beyond the two-minute contents of its advertisement, but not quite two hours worth. 

            Seth MacFarlane stars in his first big screen role as Albert, a cowardly, pessimistic sheep farmer who loses his girlfriend (Amanda Seyfried) to mustachioed douche bag, Foy (Neil Patrick Harris), and challenges him to a gun fight to prove himself on the overzealous advice of western She-Ra badass, Anna (Charlize Theron) who is somehow under the thumb of meanie-pants outlaw, Clinch Leatherwood (Liam Neeson).  I am caging all of that in one sentence, because it is a high school movie and not very interesting.  Elements of Better Off Dead, and She’s All That (just to name a hundredth of teen movies to which it compares) are ushered with such familiarity, the arrival of certain story beats is almost cringe-worthy.

            That genre’s functions are really not the film’s problem, however.  The framework of this “drama”, where MacFarlane and Theron obviously fall in love, allows for surprisingly charming performances by both leads.  Strangely, what causes more damage than the borrowed plot is Macfarlane’s apparent admiration for Western’s.  He spends a lot of time paying homage to the genre’s classical form.  The opening credits drag over shots of Monument Valley sweeping enough to make John Ford swoon.  There are fabulously well-shot (but, admittedly anti-climactic) chase scenes on horseback.  There is a run-in with Native Americans, a hoe down scene, and a homestead that appears to be an exact replica of the one from Shane.  That is all cool!  None of that is funny!  Well, the stuff that has more to do with the historical realities of the old west is pretty funny.  Okay, and so is the scene with the tribe of natives, lead by the great Wes Studi, but that bit slinks along following the movie’s biggest boo-boo.

            Let it be known: this is a damn funny movie.  Sure, not every gag will require a change of underwear, but when it hits, it hits hard.  I saw this in the company of a gentleman who, like myself, tends to laugh like a hyena when he really gets wound up.  Our fellow patrons must have thought they were being hunted at times, because we sounded like we were on the fucking prowl.  Unfortunately, the film sets up this gunfight with Neil Patrick Harris’ character, like the ultimate punch line to what should be a 90-minute joke.  We get there, where we get poop jokes, and we are done with the gunfight… and the movie keeps going.  As the last 30 minutes trudge by, you find yourself just waiting for it to end.  People even walked out during the acid trip sequence.  Yeah… after we’re ready for the end… we have a hallucination featuring pissing sheep.  It is definitely funny enough for a rental, but don’t drop 10 bones on this one for the theatrical experience.

You could go see Maleficent… I hear that is kind of good in a way.

"Under the Skin" Review

Release date: April 4^th 2014 (U.S.)

Director: Jonathan Glazer
Writers: Jonathan Glazer, Walter Campbell

Editors: Paul Watts

Score Composer:  Mica Levi

Cinematographer:  Daniel Landin

Budget: 13.3 Million

Domestic gross: $4,422,354

Material: Digital
Aspect ratio: 1.85 : 1
Running time: 108 Min.

Current Tomato Meter: 86%

            Now that David Cronenberg has unofficially passed the body horror/sci-fi weirdo freak-out torch to no one in particular, it’s an unequivocal joy (for me, at least) when another filmmaker seems to have momentarily snatched it up.  Current snatcher is Jonathan Glazer, sporadic director of feature films (Sexy Beast and Birth), and somewhat prolific director of television commercials and music videos.  Glazer, calling on his versatile filmmaking tools, has filled the Cronenbergian void, not with a perfect fit, but with a complicated one.  Under the Skin is a film which explores questions of sex, without any intention of answering them, and the viewing experience is all the better for it.

            Scarlett Johansson plays a woman… or something posing as a woman, cruising Glasgow in search of men in her giant white van.  She faces little trouble in her search, because an attractive forward woman looking for a companion in any vehicle is rarely refused.  Some men are a slightly wary of the situation, and one doesn’t trust her for a moment.  Regardless, any dude willing to take a ride is delivered to… somewhere… and basically sunk into… something.  I am being intentionally vague because I wish to mirror how I witnessed the events (and knowing as little as possible about a movie is always the best way to see it).  What might be happening to these injudicious fellows is revealed only suggestively, and it allows the mind to run as wild as the film’s dense and abstract score.  Under the control of a stoic man (or, something posing as a man) Johansson’s character remains eerily focused on her task until meeting a lonely, disfigured twenty-something.  This tosses her into a kind of human experience crash-course as she goes AWOL on her cryptic assignment.

            At this point, I started thinking, “Haven’t we already seen enough movies about what it means to be human?”  From androids, to aliens, to that goofy live-action Jungle Book movie, we have watched that story told in countless films, most notably in the sci-fi genre.  Then the movie takes another, more focused turn, when Johansson discovers her womanhood.  While making her first attempt at doing the deed she appeared to be promising earlier, she realizes what this thing between her legs is capable of and is completely startled.  She examines her nude body in the mirror, pondering its form and abilities, and we start treading the territory of feminist film theory… but that is a whole other blog.

            As much as I would love to say more, I would rather not share all of the film’s contents, and it would be difficult to discuss it analytically without mentioning every detail.  Lucky for me, because I am not exactly prepared to write my dissertation on this frightening, beautiful, and complex work.  If you have heard anything about this film, it is most likely that several critics have mentioned that it is almost like watching a nightmare about what it is like to be Scarlet Johansson.  This is a beautiful woman utilized by men to lure other men for personal gain.  It could be the story of any female sex icon.  Even that concept is merely a starting point: one of many directions from which to enter this cinematic black hole.  No matter Glazer’s intentions, we can be certain he didn’t make this film now, amidst an intense debate over women’s rights, the heated discussion of rape culture and the furor over the “YesAllWomen” hashtag for no reason.  Still, the filmmakers don’t seem to have any intention of making a final statement on any of this.  There is no essay-like through-line I was able to navigate (due to a really dark scene involving an abandoned baby and several other moments).  To me, this is a twisted satire of any woman’s tragic experience negotiating sexual politics in the world today.  This is a challenging journey through an upsetting time, benefiting deeply from Scarlet Johansson’s flawless performance, and should you choose to enter the void, making it to the other side will leave you with a film you’ll be thinking about for years.

Not quite golden calves....

Happy Little Golden Man Awards, everybody!

Good luck to my dad!  So proud of him for getting his nomination!

I, Fermenting: How to reanimate the withered corpse of January

• Release date: January 24^th, 2014 (U.S.)

Director: Stuart Beattie

• Writer: Stuart Beattie (adapted from 

the graphic novel by Kevin Grevioux)

• Score Composers: Johnny Klimek and 

Reinhold Heil

• Budget: $65 million (estimated)

• Domestic gross: $8,275,000 (current, estimated)

• World gross: Currently unavailable (for me, anyhow)

• Material: Digital (converted to 3D in post)

• Aspect ratio: 2.35 : 1

• Running time: 95 minutes

• Current Tomato Meter: 5%

Oops.

It’s not my intention to spend much time ripping this movie a new fire hole.  It has plenty of fire holes.  This movie loves fire holes.  Besides, you knew I, Frankenstein was a steamy pile of incompetence from the moment you heard the title.  Who needs a trailer?  They could have advertised this film with the promise of a complimentary steak dinner and oral sex, and still only about 100 people in the world would think, “Ooo!  ‘From the makers of Underworld!’”  That’s the problem with January.  Hollywood, the insatiable greed-beast, spends all year gobbling up them dollars, and after some quality time spent sniffing out a place to finally take a dump, it chooses January.  Doesn’t January suck enough?  Christmas has ended, and the season says, “Haha, bitches!  Not such a winter wonderland now, IS IT!?”  All the good holidays are over and we can’t even look forward to some good movies to provide escape.  It’s a big, dumb waste of time; much like the film I saw on Friday.  We’ll get into the cause, and my concept for an alternative practice in the many January’s to come, but first, we do need to devote ourselves to a prime example of the cinematic goings-on in this putrid time of year.

I, Frankenstein, a film based on the eponymous graphic novel, tells the story of… Frankenstein’s MONSTER (Aaron Eckhart), who accidentally kills a couple of demons after burying Dr. Frankenstein, which catches the attention of a group of angelic demon-fighting gargoyles (don’t bother reading that again.  It won’t make more sense), who take him to their “queen”.  She names him Adam, and fails to persuade him to join their cause in order to stay his capture by Naberius (Bill Nighy), apparently the queen of the above mentioned demons.  He tells these turkeys they be speakin’ jive, absconds with some awesome weapons from the Angelic Gargoyle Awesome Weapons Room and dedicates his every waking moment to finding and killing this Naberius character.  He is apparently terrible at finding Naberius, because 200 years pass, and it still hasn’t happened for him while hiding in the mountainy wilderness. 

Why would Naberius be in the mountainy wilderness, Adam?

 Upon re-entry to civilzation, our hero tells us via inner-monologue the world of man is no longer familiar to him.  Yeah, it’s so unfamiliar that he has a modern haircut, perfectly tailored, perfectly weather-beaten, perfectly hip blue jeans, and a clearly treasured gym membership.  That’s an awfully accurate concept of what an attractive man of 2014 looks like.  This guy picks up fast.

That’s only one of the big problems in this cacophonic, ugly, and boring piece of drivel.  Adam would be a character worth exploring, if only he were affected by any of his experiences.  He is super human physically and mentally.  What would 200 years in solitude, save for the occasional encounter with soon-to-be-destroyed demons, do to someone… or something?  Who is this guy?  Did no one think to give him a personality?  Over the course a generous and tedious 95 minutes, all we learn about him is that he is lonely and kind of feels bad about killing his dad’s girlfriend.  Oh, he also likes to kill him some demons.  Much like the rest of cast, Mr. Eckhart (boasting a fine talent in previous projects), has been given one note to play.  It’s sort of a quiet, angry note, and he plays it… grunts it, actually, scene after scene and couldn’t care less.  Can he be blamed?  There is so little material in this film, it resembles a black hole. In fact, the most complex facet of nearly any cast member is the manner in which they explode.  But, that’s only fun for the first seven, in about 500, times you are witness to it.

Virtually the only upside in a film this dimwitted trying to take itself this seriously is that we wind up with actors TOTALLY SELLING lines like, “You go talk to the gargoyle queen.”  Even these “so bad it’s good” qualities are few and far between, however, and the most irritating thing about this mess may be in how they justify the title.  “Aren’t we all our father’s sons?” drools Bill Nighy, after calling Adam “Frankenstein”. Following this line of logic, the film ends with Eckhart’s voice-over cheese-whizzing out something like this: “I, descender of the demon horde.  I, protector of the night, I… FRANKENSTEIN.”

Okay…

I get it.  Frankenstein, being the surname of Victor, and Adam if we can consider Adam his son, then I... sort of understand the concept.  But that's not an excuse to perpetuate the confusion over Frankenstein vs. Frankenstein's monster.  It is important to understand these are different characters!  Frankenstein is such a well-known character, that his surname may as well be his first name.. or his ONLY name.  Look, I am definitely MY father’s son.  I look just like him.  We share common interests.  But, nobody calls me Mike just for the sake of a catchy movie title.  I wouldn’t end the movie of my life like: I, purchaser of movie soundtracks on vinyl.  I, eater of chili in bread bowls.  I, Mike Lewellen.  MIKE LEWELLEN IS NOT MY NAME.  I am just the product of his seed, you ding-dongs.

So, you spend most of your precious time in the dark, dark theater asking the universe questions as to how this could possibly have been made.  How did they attract talent like Eckhart and Nighy?  How could the finished product have been released in theaters when the producers realized their creation was as monstrous and terrible as Victor Frankenstein’s?  Why is digital technology involved in the very un-technological enterprise of attempting to fill a soulless body with a demon spirit (I won’t bother getting into THAT scene.  It’s no more or less knuckle-headed than the rest of the never-ending bat-shit craziness, but you do need to know that if you only have a certain percentage of a demon spirit in a corpse, that is just not enough demon spirit.  Yes, it operates like downloading mp3’s.)?   These questions aside, we can know the answer to how this worm wriggled its way into theatres in January.

I am not trying to claim poor films are only released in during this month’s 31 days. From good, to mediocre, to turd-farm, movies of any quality can show up at any time, and they do. The SUPER turd-farm variety, however, mostly show up at the beginning of the year due to “Oscar season”.  By January, of course, Oscar season has ended.  Any film a studio has released with the intention of being considered for award nomination is already out.  So, somehow, nearly every major studio spends more distribution money expanding the release of their Oscar contenders.  What does that have to do with movies of the I, Frankenstein ilk?  Well, this film was most likely completed and ready for release during a finer time of year, put through test screenings, given some thought, and put on the proverbial back burner.  Maybe it didn’t test well, maybe they knew what they had and knew it couldn’t contend opening against Star Trek II, maybe they temporarily lost the reels in a fight between angelic gargoyles and demons, who knows? 

Still, one does not spend $65 million on a film potentially worth $20 per ticket (3D IMAX in L.A., for instance), and not at least attempt a theatrical run.  So, like Swallows to Capistrano, crap films come to populate the month of January every year.  It’s sort of a vicious circle.  No studio releases a major film during this month, so there are few films with which to contend.  Any studio with such a crummy film needs to try to earn back some cash, so it shows its ugly face at the most opportune moment.  It’s easier to open a film about explosions against the likes of Devil’s Due, Gimme Shelter (The Vanessa Hudgeons after-school-special, not the famous documentary about The Rolling Stones), The Nut Job, or nothing at all, than against the third installment in an incredibly popular film franchise, or the next big movie from Martin Scorsese.           

Films of this indefensible quality are produced every year (Remember Legion?), and for what purpose?  To each project, millions of dollars are contributed to very little profit, if any.  Why bother taking a risk on a project that sounds this ludicrous in the first place?  I understand it is a comic book premise, but when you pitch a familiar character… say, an indestructible guy who flies through the air and shoots lasers from his eyes…  he still has an established audience to welcome him at the box office.  Nobody knows the source material here, so the High Concept approach doesn’t work.  What if $65 million was split between 3 projects by unknown filmmakers?  What if that much cash was set aside to invest in new talent every year for a small festival?  What if the people behind these works held a screenwriting contest?  Wouldn’t that be a more significant application to film history?  So far, I, Frankenstein has returned about $8 million (domestically, that is, and it could possibly turn a profit internationally).  With the right people producing and promoting a selection of films with super turd-farm distribution width, that much could easily be achieved.  Wouldn’t that be a less wasteful use of all that power and money?  What if January kicked off each cinematic New Year with fresh talent, instead of old waste?  Just think, it’s possible that sort of thing could become as much a yearly tradition as watching the Oscars, the very event responsible for this thriftless practice.