REVIEW: Rob Zombie’s Halloween

Like Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, and leftover meatloaf, Hollywood remakes will never die. A lot of people hate them, mostly for what they stand for. First, they represent a lack of creativity, the choice to retread previous ground rather than forge ahead into uncharted territory. Second, remakes suck when they’re of other movies; they’re heresy when they’re of your favorite movie. Now, I’ve reached that second level, since they’ve remade Halloween.

John Carpenter’s classic movie is like a perfect storm of low-budget filmmaking that just worked on every level, and subsequently phoned in 7 sequels. I had mixed feelings when I heard that the ninth Halloween movie would be a re-imagining of the first film in the style of Batman Begins or the upcoming Star Trek film. But the decision to bring Rob Zombie on as writer/director eased many of my suspicions. Zombie has long been an outspoken fan of the horror genre, naming his first band White Zombie after a Bela Lugosi film of the same name, and has even railed against the Halloween sequels, calling it “one great movie that has spawned a thousand terrible movies.” I thought that if one person besides John Carpenter could get the Halloween series back on track, it’d be Rob Zombie.

And after months of speculation, the resulting film ain’t that bad.

Rob Zombie’s Halloween tracks the development of psycho killer Michael Myers , from animal-torturing loser to people-torturing boogeyman. As a result, the film loses a lot of the mysticism and supernatural qualities of Carpenter’s original. The question was always “Is Michael Myers some supernatural force, or just a really strong mo-fo?” You knew Myers existed just to kill, but you didn’t know if there was any way he could be killed himself. This version makes it abundantly clear that Michael Myers was a very disturbed boy who grew into a serial killer, much closer to John Wayne Gacy than an Angel of Death. However, Zombie doesn’t tell us everything going on inside the troubled boy’s head. There is still a hint of some deep psychological trauma that we’ll never be able to get at. We also get a closer look at Myers’ relationship with masks, something which was shortly touched upon in the Carpenter original (during the final moments of that film, Laurie Strode rips Michael’s mask off, and he stops attacking her just to put it back on.) In this film, Myers is so obsessed with masks that he creates them as his method of expression, and hides behind them during therapy. And the iconic Michael Myers mask is given more significance. It’s an interesting new look at the character, and really, it amounts for much of the interest in the film to begin with. Without it, it just becomes Carpenter’s Halloween with a new coat of grit on it. But purists will probably be pissed off that The Shape was given the same treatment that Lucas gave Darth Vader, but they always have their original to fall back on (and with the movie recently re-mastered for Blu Ray, they can fall back on it in HD).

Other characters get make-overs as well. Dr. Sam Loomis, previously played by Donald Plesance and now helmed by Malcolm MacDowell, is no longer just the creepy old man. Many of the subtle nuances of Plesance’s performance (i.e. being obsessed with Michael Myers) are now fully spotlit in the plot. Loomis is now so obsessed with Myers that he destroys his homelife and dedicates his career to cracking Myers’ psychological nut. Apart from this, he also writes a book about his experience with the boy, and becomes wracked with guilt that he profits from the misery of one child and the town he destroyed. His relationship with Myers turns into a Frankenstein-and-his-Monster play the further into the film you go. And Laurie Strode, the innocent teenager who was the protagonist of the previous film, becomes kind of an anomaly in this one. she’s not the focus of the plot, and she becomes a factor into the plot at about the second act. And Zombie has even done the unthinkable and stripped Laurie (hehe) of some of her innocence, which many latched onto in the original. She’s now just one of the girls.

Now, letting go any connection to John Carpenter’s film, how does Rob Zombie’s Halloween stand up on its own? I found his vision to be interesting, unique, and way watchable. He combines old monster-movie aesthetics and camera angles with a modern sensibility. You can tell this is a person who has done his homework and knows what he’s talking about. Even though I was sitting in the fucking front row, having to crane to a 90 degree angle in order to see anything, I could still appreciate the camera-work and color palette. Zombie’s interpretation also contained many more sexual references than most films, which will probably lose a lot of people. I saw the reason for it in the earlier half of the film: to embarrass and antagonize Michael. The rest of it seemed like the sort of talk guys wish girls would say in their deepest self-abuse fantasies. It didn’t gel with me totally, but I was able to get through it in order to see someone else get killed.

As for the horror, most of it wasn’t scary since I knew the original well enough to recreate it shot-for-shot in my mind. There were some surprising moments, especially in the new material Zombie added, but that was my biggest complaint. After Michael escapes from the asylum – come on, don’t call “spolier” on me. You knew it’d happen – the film becomes so similar to previously treaded ground that I almost punched out. A neophyte may get a kick out it, but to be honest, this is not a film for the horror newbie. It does pick up, so I was soon back in the action, but the second act was, pardon my pun, killer. And while I enjoyed the new take on the ending, which was very suspenseful and the perfect scenario to end Zombie’s film on, I couldn’t grasp the final moments, and thought them too abrupt. Before I knew the movie was over, I heard the famous theme song pumping through the theater’s subwoofers. It put a sour taste in my mouth while walking out, but it didn’t sour my overall opinion of the film.

Final Verdict: 3 1/2 Mickey Dolenz cameos (you’ll get that one later) out of 5.

The best thing I can say for Zombie’s interpretation of Halloween is that it’s solid, which is more than I can say for many Halloween sequels. It’ll never eclipse the original (and to be honest, nothing will) and it may not have even been necessary, but there is something there between the frames of this movie, and that is the mark of a great filmmaker. The revelations about the characters and they way they connect will give film critics and horror fans something to talk about for a while, but it may be too much for a popcorn movie. This one will definitely be a part of my DVD collection, and if you’re a horror fan, this one should be in yours, too.

REVIEW: Halo 3

Let’s just get this out of the way right now:

“I, Chris Wood, do solemnly swear on my honor and dignity that I will make no references to “fights” or various manners on which they may or may not be finished throughout the course of this review. Also I shall make no use of the following words anywhere in the following text: noob (or n00b), cockbite, w00t, cover guy, teamkiller, fucktard, or semprini. I promise to report the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, regardless of what fallout it may or may not bring me.”

The highly anticipated, much blogged about Halo 3 has been in the public’s hands for over a month now. The hype has died down, and I’ve just recently finished the single-player campaign. So, you may be wondering, how is it? In reality, you should have a copy by now and know for yourself (even PS3 owners. It’s like how, in the 70s, everybody had a copy of Frampton Comes Alive). But if you’re a little slow behind the fast-moving train of nerd supremacy, I’ll give you all the information you’d ever want to know about Halo 3.

The game promises to close all the plotlines of the Halo franchise up to that point. The Covenant control Earth, Cortana is still a captive of the Gravemind, and the universe is on the verge of destruction upon the finding of an ancient artifact known as “The Ark”. (note: if any of those terms confused you, look them up on Wikipedia before proceeding. It’s too much for just one blog…) You assume the familiar role of Master Chief and pump lead and plasma into anything around you that moves. That’s pretty much all I can say without getting into the plot.

Speaking of which, I don’t know if it was my disc or not, but I had a hard time hearing the dialogue during cutscenes, which as a result, caused me to lose a lot of valuable plot information, leaving me confused like a kid who wonders exactly why Mommy has a large rubber wiener in her drawer? And like said hypothetical kid, I turned to the Internet for answers. I’d often find myself going onto Wikipedia to figure out exactly where the hell I was and why I had to find this one guy in order to stop something from happening. But once I found out, I got right back to killing aliens, which was okay with me.

And with regards to the story (I know I’m going to catch hell for this one) but I thought that this was the Matrix: Revolutions of the series: interesting in parts, and a decent attempt to wrap the story up, but unsatisfying for the most part. I guess I can attribute some of this to the fact that I couldn’t keep up with the cutscenes, but a lot of the plot points were just blah. It didn’t have the urgency of the first Halo, or the character moments of Halo 2. A lot of third movies in trilogies suffer this feeling, perhaps since it’s the end. I won’t spoil the ending for anyone, but I felt like the major levels (i.e. the dealing with the Prophet of Truth and the final driving scene) could’ve had a lot more punch, the driving scene especially. I’m reminded of the first Halo, where you had ten minutes to drive to a waiting aircraft before the whole place blew up. That level was expertly done, and had a real tension to the moment. The final level of Halo 3 comes close, but doesn’t quite recapture that past glory, in terms of storytelling.

The gameplay, on the other hand, is much improved. I’ve always been a critic of “run-and-gun” games, preferring the tactical element of Gears of War more to the blind trigger orgy that Halo can become sometimes. They haven’t improved that element since that’s part of Halo’s appeal, but almost everything else is improved and upgraded. The new control scheme is awesome, intuitive and easy to use. The only glitch in my experience was that the X button, which previously was for reloading, is now to deploy the specialty items, like the Bubble Shield. The first few times you try it, you may accidentally toss a shield instead of reloading your weapon. But it doesn’t take long for you to adapt to the new control scheme. And yes, to teabag someone, it’s still the same buttons.

My only complaint about single-player gameplay is the Brutes. Bungie has promised its customers that the Brutes would be smarter and much harder to beat, like a mini-boss almost. Not the case with Halo 3. Most times, I could unload an entire clip from my Assault Rifle into a Brute and drop the poor sonofabitch with little to no effort. And if you have a grenade, good night nurse! The Flood are harder to handle than the Brutes! Speaking of the Flood, I think they got the Flood spot on with this game. They’re very difficult to beat without running through a few times. And if you notice, a Flood Spore can reanimate a Flood Corpse to attack you again, which adds a new level of difficulty.

I haven’t had the chance to delve into multiplayer yet, but all the stuff I’ve heard and seen has been positive. Halo multiplayer is always the big draw to the game, and not only has Bungie kept the good pieces intact, but they’ve added new features to make multiplayer the part of the game worth the 60 bucks you drop for it. And me, as a machinima maker, I enjoy the new features such as Forge and Saved Movies in order to make the process of animation easier. It’s doubtful if I’ll get as into multiplayer as some people have, but if I ever feel the need to be violated by a 13 year old while he screams profanity into my ear, I’ll be right there on Xbox Live.

Final Judgement: 3 and 1/2 n00bs (“fuck”) out of 5.

Everyone knows this game or owns this game already. If you have it, enjoy it. It’s definitely a fun experience to play, and if you’ve got some friends to kill, there’s nothing better. If you want a good story, I’d stick more with BioShock. But if you don’t own it already, I’d follow in the steps of my make-up teacher Rob Benevides: rent the game, beat it in one day, and then take it back. You’ll have all the fun of shooting aliens with only the 10 dollar financial commitment.

The Most Depressing News of the Week, pt. 2

I never thought I’d see this day, where a guaranteed slam-dunk of money, talent, and hype couldn’t get a project off the ground. Leave it to human nature; we’re unpredictable creatures, and if there’s a way to fuck up, no matter how many subliminal hoops we have to jump through, we can seize it like a crocodile seizing its prey. So, start the funeral music, because here it is:

According to director Neill Blomkamp, the expected adaptation of the Halo series is “dead.” (sniffle) Apparently, disagreements between the studios involved were what caused the demise of this sure-fire moneymaker, and it’s unlikely that the project will ever see the light of day. (snort)… I’m sorry, I just got a little choked up. Let’s hope I can get through the rest of the post without breaking down crying.

This is the sort of thing that I just can’t wrap around my simian brain. Sure, I’m bummed. As a Halo fan and a movie-goer, this movie should’ve kicked Herculean ass. And anyone who’s seen the live-action Halo 3 shorts on the Internet knows that Neill was a great choice for director, taking the sci-fi action of Halo down to a human, almost documentary-like level. Every time I’d watch one of those, I’d get a nerdie (a nerd stiffie) and it upped my hopes that the two studios involved with the project, Universal and Fox, would put aside their differences, agree on a budget, and get the damn thing going!!! But alas, it was not to be. Bureaucracy and bickering got in the way of a decent project that should’ve gotten made even if Christ himself gave it a thumbs down while guest-hosting Ebert & Roeper.

The other thing that confused me was how many people didn’t care about a Halo movie, and even worse, resented the idea. After countless disappointments in the cinema, videogame fans have probably learned that the two mediums are not symbiotic, a case of “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me 57 times, shame on everyone!” I certainly disagree with this sentiment, as those shorts are an excellent example of how a good director can work with the material he or she is given. Halo will always exist in Xboxes everywhere, but I can’t help but think that an interesting film could’ve been made, perhaps one that could’ve turned the tide for videogame cinema.

R.I.P. Halo: The Movie

P.S. I urge everyone to Google “Halo live action shorts” and give them a peek. These may be the best battle sequences I’ve seen since Saving Private Ryan.

REVIEW: Eat Me, Drink Me

They say that the second coming of Jesus will follow some worldwide catastrophic event, one that humanity could never hope to bounce back from. Well, I don’t believe in that malarky, and besides, Marilyn Manson’s latest CD is pretty good (Thought I was going to make a joke, didn’tcha?)

As you are probably aware, this latest collection of songs by Manson were compiled and mixed in the aftermath of the singer’s highly publicized divorce from Dita Von Tease, and the beginning of his new relationship with actress Evan Rachael Wood. Anyone going into this CD expecting to hear the same Manson who gave us “The Beautiful People” and “The Fight Song” will probably be disappointed. For this installment, Manson tosses aside the boogeyman aesthetic for something more personal and revealing. They say that on every monster is a zipper running up the back, and with Eat Me, Drink Me, Manson unzips (okay, get your mind out of the gutter) and shows the world what some of his fans may already know: his sensitive (if not brooding) and intelligent side.

You can tell something’s different right from the first track, “If I Was Your Vampire.” The riff is extremely gothic, but… not threatening. Instead of wanting to scare us, Manson invites the listener into his state of mind right off the bat, and keeps us there for the first few songs, repeating the same theme of a pervasive unhappiness from an omniscient point of view. After a bit, it does start to get repetitive, but then the album switches gears as it goes into the first single, “Heart Shaped Glasses”. When I first listened to it, I found it hard to categorize. It reminded me a lot of Depeche Mode or The Clash, but with Manson’s dark tone attached to it. From that moment on, the album pulls itself out of its own funk and gets on with it. One gets the sense that once Manson got those emotions off his chest, he could start singing about other things, like his new relationship with Wood, trashing My Chemical Romance, and something about you and me and the devil making three (?). The album closes just as it opened, on a somber note, with the title track. “Eat Me, Drink Me” is an okay song, something that I describe as a bad Pink Floyd trip mixed with some of the weird ways that the Beatles ended albums at around Sgt. Pepper.

Reaction to the album so far has been mixed. Critics have applauded Manson for writing something from the heart and emotional while his fans would much rather hear the music that makes their parents nervous. While I love a head-banger every now and then, I enjoyed the album on the whole. Certainly, some songs stand out more than others. “If I Was Your Vampire” is a great tune for a depressing mood. It’s no “Beautiful People”, but it works as an opening to the album and the riff hooks you instantly. “Heart Shaped Glasses” is the same way: great riff coupled with vocals and melody that blend together like absinthe and sugar. But for me, the standout track is “Evidence”, the closest thing to a “typical” Manson tune there is. The drum riff is a real headbanger and the song makes you want to get up and jump around (at least me, anyways).

As stated ad nauseam throughout this review and every other review about the album ever published, this is not the same Marilyn Manson that performed in lingerie on MTV and made every Christian parents group piss their collective pants. This is a journey through Manson’s personal life, his emotions, and the real darkness of his creativity. Unlike the rest of the “futile life/slash your wrists” artists, Manson goes beyond the act and makes a striking work of art.

REVIEW: Hot Fuzz

Ahh, British humor. You never cease to amaze me. From Monty Python to Mr. Bean to The Office, there is rarely a British comedy that fails hit its mark with me (unlike American humor). The latest export from across the pond is the cop comedy Hot Fuzz, created by the team responsible for Shaun of the Dead. Does it hold up?

  Hot Fuzz shows us Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg), arguably the best policeman in the London Police Force. So what do they do? They send him to the country, where crime is the lowest in the entire country. The fast-paced Angel takes a while to settle into his new surroundings, and his new shadow Danny Butterman (Nick Frost), but as strange occurrences start to pop up around the village, the die-hard (get it?) cop in Angel springs into action to get to the bottom of the plot.

  If you’ve ever seen Shaun of the Dead, this film will be more of the same, just with different subject matter. Same style of humor, same style of visuals, same style of editing. I’ll get into each of them individually, but I’ll put up the disclaimer that if you hated Shaun of the Dead, you probably won’t like Hot Fuzz, and that’s the best barometer I can give.

  The humor in Hot Fuzz is spot on, mixing wordy British humor and Laurel-and-Hardy-style gags. Pegg is a brilliant straight-man, with a look about him like a caged animal that is aware of the bars, but lacks the strength to fight back anymore. And every deck needs a joker, and Frost plays a perfect foil to the straight-as-an-arrow Pegg. Butterman is a man-child, living in a fantasy world since his job doesn’t really require his attention. The humor is very dry here, feeding off of a lack of emotion than over the top gags and slapstick, and a lot of the jokes will garner medium-sized laughs from the American audience, with a few jokes soaring above the rest.

  This is going to sound like a negative, but the film feels like it was edited by a crack head. By that I mean that the style of the film means that a lot of the shots are a second or less in length. (If you have epilepsy, you may not want to watch this film) It didn’t bother me on the whole, but there were times when I though that the film would throw me off like a 90 pound rodeo rider. It’s very similar to Shaun of the Dead, except chopped up even further, with the crash cuts hitting you like little pebbles one after the other.

  The story is okay, reminding me a lot of The Stepford Wives as I got further into it. It amazed me how the film straddled the line between balls-out action and quirky humor. Edgar Wright knows how to direct action, and the resulting film is a lot of fun, despite being a little hectic.

Final Judgment: 4 guns fired whilst leaping through the air out of 5

REVIEW: Grindhouse

It’s at this point where I’m going to say, “Fuck the Box Office; Grindhouse is the Movie Experience of the Year!” Now, down to specifics…

I’m sure you’re aware of the gimmick by now: Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino write and direct back to back horror films modeled after the shlocky Grindhouse Cinema classics popularized in the 1970s. Robert’s film, Planet Terror, focuses on zombie gore and goodies when a biochemical weapon is released into the atmosphere that turns everyone into ravenous lepers. Quentin’s film, Death Proof, is a slasher that would make Carpenter and Craven smile, but instead of a knife, the killer uses a car to attack his victims. Joyously spliced between them are 5-6 minutes worth of fake trailers directed by Rob Zombie, Eli Roth, and Edgar Wright.  What results is 3 hours and 15 minutes of entertainment.

I’ve been waiting for Grindhouse for about a year, and the wait  was well worth it. I’ve made no secret to the fact that I’m a film buff, and I’ve been saying for a long time that theaters should bring back things like double features in order to make the theatergoing experience new and unique again. So obviously, I fall squarely into this film’s target demo. I’m obviously disappointed that this hasn’t appealed to the more mainstream audience, but to be honest, this one would’ve flew right over Joe Q. Public’s head.

But how do the films stack up? Well, after a great trailer made by Robert Rodriguez for Machete (starring the fabulous Danny Trejo) the film Planet Terror begins. This is what Grindhouse is all about. Rodriguez’ film is packed with action and gore, and the cast is superb. It seems like everyone is having fun, which is essential for making the film enjoyable. Rodriquez has gone all out in making this an authentic Grindhouse experience: the film print is horrible, scratched out in places and having odd colors in others. A very important reel is missing somewhere in the film, and the score is absolutely kick-ass. Now, I’ve always been skeptical of giving films free passes on believability or fidelity in the script, but the mark of the brilliance of this film is that the excitement level carries us over any pot holes in the script, so we don’t care that it may be totally cheesy. We just want to see what happens next.

Then come the trailers. The clear winner in this round is Eli Roth’s Thanksgiving, and the clear loser being Rob Zombie’s Werewolf Women of the SS. (Zombie more that makes up for it with his awesome Halloween trailer.) You may have different perceptions, and that’s your little red wagon. But I thought that this was the best idea for a film gimmick that’s been seen since the days of William Castle. (if you don’t know who he is, consider yourself fortunate…)

Then comes Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof. I’ll just come out and say it: this film didn’t do it for me. I thought the idea was fantastic, but the meat of the story and what makes it enjoyable was lost beneath the theme and the weighty dialogue we’ve come to expect from QT. I will say that Kurt Russell was great, nearing brilliant, playing this very deep psychopath. But the character’s depth was one of the things dragging this movie down. Stuntman Mike is too complex a character to be in a Grindhouse film. He has issues, demons, and I’d love to see what makes him tick even more, but that was a distraction in this instance.

As mentioned above, the dialogue tries to bench-press 1000 lbs. when all it needed to do was 100. I got the feeling that Tarantino loved listening to these characters talk in his head and focused on that instead of making the situation scary. The car chases were very tense, reminiscent of Steven Spielberg’s Duel. However, I thought that Tarantino just told his actresses to improvise their dialogue, as they are shouting and cursing the whole way down. And one actress even repeated a line, something like “I’ma bust a nut in this muthafucka!” One time, funny. Two times, tedious.

Finally, I thought that Rodriguez used the film elements much more effectively than Tarantino. Rodriguez uses them for comic relief, and there is not a shot in Planet Terror that isn’t without some sort of degrading film effect. Tarantino starts out that way, but as the film nears its climax, it’s like he forgets about them and concentrates on cutting the chase. And let’s not talk about the ending, okay…

Final Judgment: 4 and 1/2 questionable stains out of 5

Despite whatever flaws it may have, Grindhouse is the cinematic experience of sex, and not the drunken, 4-in-the-morning, 30 second sex, but the mind-blowingly passionate, sweaty, intense lovefest that lasts all night (and goes for an encore in the morning.) I cannot suck off that movie any more than I already have, but I will say this: if you still have the opportunity, go see it. We need more celebrations of the cinematic experience in our lives before films like Happy Feet 2: Happier Feet* flood our theaters and atropine the muscles of our beloved art form. This is one of the only things I’m really passionate about, so go. Please.

* Don’t laugh, you know they’ve thought of it

REVIEW: Daredevil: Guardian Devil

As a member of the movie community, I think I’m required to regard comic books as the redheaded cousin nobody likes to talk about. But I think everyone could benefit from a reading of Guardian Devil, as it’s one of the best story arches I’ve read in a long time.

For those uninitiated, I’ll briefly summarize. The story is about Matt Murdock, a blind lawyer in New York City’s Hell’s Kitchen, who’s senses are super-humanly heightened as a result of his handicap and spends his nights as vigilante Daredevil. At the start of the book, Murdock is paid a visit by a woman who asks him to tend for her (immaculately conceived) baby, as she’s being pursued by bad people, and she believes her child to be the Savior of mankind.  As difficult as this is to accept, another person visits the following day to tell Matt that the child is in fact the Antichrist, and will bring pain and death to whomever comes in contact with it. As Murdock tries to solve the mystery of who this child really is, his world is systematically decimated, nearly driving him to insanity, suicide, but only increasing his resolve to get to the bottom of the case.

The above paragraph certainly didn’t do the story justice. Penned by lifetime comic book fan Kevin Smith (yes, that Kevin Smith), the story balances enough insider comic-trivia to keep fans like me in an aroused state throughout its duration. I polished the whole thing off within two hours, and never stopped once, despite a bus ride, and elevator trip, and a nagging amount of homework. While Smith is more known for writing about convenience store clerks and a lovable duo of drug dealers, he shows that he can get by without using four letter words or lengthy discussions on the proper way to perform oral sex. And the story is fabulous, escalating like a great episode of 24, and (in terms of plot) tighter than a Buddy Rich drum solo. The only gripe I had about it was the final step in the plot, where, since the plot is so complex and multi-layered, once the big reveal is given, you have to re-explain the entire plot in order to show how the villain accomplished it. It’s a very James Bond-ish plot device, and somewhat dangerous to your enjoyment. I know that Smith has to tie up all the loose ends and such, but a lengthy monologue may not have been the best way to go.

The artwork is very modern cartoon artwork. When I read Daredevil issues today, the style of the current artist is very gothic anime. But Joe Quesada (current Editor in Chief at Marvel) has a style that reminds me of the old time Marvel artists, like Jack Kirby or John Romita. The muscles aren’t too accentuated and everything feels realistic. Karen Page’s breasts seemed to have a lot of attention paid to them, but I think that was Smith’s influence more than anything (just kidding.) Quesada also has a great way of panelling the page, lots of times with the background of the page being one frame and lots of little frames put on top of it. It’s cool, but at times it gets confusing and you don’t know which  panel to read next.

Final Judgment: 4 Fanboys out of 5

Guardian Devil is a great book, and a must read for any comic book fan. Stories like this are the kind that get me excited about reading comics again. Do yourself a favor and pick this one up right now. I mean right now. Don’t worry about the website; It’ll still be here tomorrow. Go!

Let’s Talk About Sex (in movies)

This is a topic that has been tossed about willy-nilly by critics, audiences, and moral entrepreneurs in both private and public arenas. Are modern films too filthy?

While the artist (and the dirty pervert) in me says “No Way,” I’m tempted now to see the other side of the argument. I may not agree with it totally, but at least I can understand it.

What happened with me was that I saw a Studio Project created by an NYU student (names will be withheld both to protect the innocent and because I can’t remember them). The concept of this short was a therapy session surrounding Walt Disney characters. The basic premise of the story isn’t bad (it’s kind of amateur, since skits involving known characters in a new light have been around since the early days of Saturday Night Live.) and some parts of it were genuinely funny. However, the film was marred by its overuse of sex and dirty words. Now, I’m not saying I’m a crystal clean human being myself, and (insert deity of choice here) knows that I enjoy watching/listening to discussions about sex in the movies I watch, but there is such a thing as too much sex. (People like Steven Tyler, Gene Simmons, and Hugh Hefner may disagree with me, but they didn’t see this movie.)

I’ll admit that I’ve written a four-letter word or two (or three or four or five) when in the course of composing a script. I use it for one of two reasons: 1) To reveal character, which is the proper way to use anything in a script, or 2) to make the dialogue sound more realistic. Let’s face it. People curse, people fight, and people fuck. It’s an unavoidable facet of life. In this instance, however, the film was harmed by all the sex and profanity it used. I’m sure that there are people in this world who are as frank as some of the people in that short. But come on, all of the characters?!  That just smacks of bad writing to me. The whole time, I wanted to scream out, “There are other reasons people go to therapy!” Repeating the “sex, sex, sex” note over and over again was like eating a salad loaded down with ranch dressing. Sure, it’s great for some added flavor, but when you soak the fucking thing in it, you mask all the other flavors the salad has to offer. That’s all this film needed: a little dash of creativity.

Sadly, most movies suffer the same fault. The reasons are many. Either a writer wants his or her work to be noticed, or because he or she admires the style of a certain screenwriter/director and wants to “be like them”, or because that person simply scraping the bottom of the creativity barrel (in which case, they should stop by and say “Hi.” I love company.) Think about how many films started putting in pop culture references after Quentin Tarantino hit it big. On a similar note, think of how many horror films started putting in self-referential gags after Scream. These imitators are confusing the forrest for the tree, latching onto a gimmick in the hopes of recreating the success of another. Where I come from, this is referred to as “trying to catch lightning in a bottle”. And it filters down to the student level, too. I can’t tell you how many scripts I read or short films I watch that sound like “fuck this, fuck that, you motherfucking cocksucker.” Granted, I can put up with a “cocksucker” every now and then, but there comes a point where you start to wonder, “Isn’t he aware of the fact that he sucks cock?”

There are exceptions. The aforementioned Tarantino wrote and directed Reservoir Dogs, one of the most profane movies I’ve ever seen. However, it’s also one of my favorites. In a similar vein, Kevin Smith, while displaying little on-screen nudity, has some of the frankest discussions of sex you’ve ever heard. Also, films like Porky’s, and it’s Gen-X counterpart American Pie are about sex, so skirting (get it?) the issue would be cowardly. Other films get close, like About Last Night, which has one of the hottest sex scenes I’ve ever seen in a mainstream movie, but they get away with it because it’s a point that is not stressed. However, the best use of sex and profanity I’ve seen yet came not from a movie, but from a book. Mario Puzo’s Omerta is peppered with dirty words. They don’t shock when you hear them, but they don’t make you groan in boredom either. And, unlike many authors, he uses the sex lives of his characters as a way of characterization, or revealing more information about them. I’d like to see this used more often, but let’s not take the easy way out. Every gay man is not necessarily a mama’s boy or a victim of forced sodomy, just as every girl who likes to be tied up isn’t traumatized from an earlier incident. Some people are just gay or freaky (or both!)

My point is that if you watch movies like The Godfather, The Terminator, Pretty Woman, or even Boogie Nights, there is sex in there because sex is a part of life (or in the case of the latter two films, business). Sex was present in this Studio Project, and many other works like it, because the writers were after shock value or needed a crutch to get them through the rest of the script. This is what really sticks in my craw about sex, violence, or even profanity in films. Sure, it’s all there to be used, but because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to use it (or misuse it). I love gratuitous T&A as much as the next person, but there comes a point when I do the unthinkable and mumble to myself “Enough with the tits; what’s going on with the movie?”

REVIEW: F for Fake

This is perhaps the smartest movie you will never see.

F for Fake, the last feature film completed by Orson Welles before his death, intends to expose the world of fakery and trickery inherent in our own lives through three main examples (one of them fake itself): the story of Elmyr de Hoy, perhaps the 20th Century’s greatest art forger, Clifford Irving, the man who wrote a biography of Elmyr and then supposedly ghost-wrote an autobiography of Howard Hughes, and Oja Kodar, a young woman who seduced Pablo Picasso into painting 22 full works of art for her, and then selling them herself. Throughout the film, short pieces of Welles’ own life and career as well as shorter examples of fakery in everyday life are interspersed. The result is not a documentary, or even a total expose. What F for Fake is defies general terms, becoming an “essay” film.

If any of this sounds boring or uninteresting to you, it probably is. I sat through F for Fake all the way through, and dozed off more times than I can count. As a result, the film felt disjointed and confusing. The beginning especially is enough to leave any casual cinema-goer in its wake. It reminded me of the earlier, more recognizable, work of the director, Citizen Kane. It was long and uninteresting, like a novel with a great concept that fails to hook a reader. The thing to remember is that Welles is an auteur, and is unconcerned with the general comfort of the audience, as long as he can get his point across.

You see, I judge cinema by two criteria: 1) Is it entertaining? 2) Does it inform?

A lot of really good films are able to do both at the same time, but F for Fake only informs. And, as I said earlier, it’s like reading a really thought-out and subtle essay. It requires a lot, and I mean a lot of thought. So if you were to ever see this movie, don’t go into it expecting to turn your brain off and be entertained. Of course, this film wasn’t even made for the masses, who want to be entertained. Unless you’re a film aficionado, or someone with a pompous sense of intelligence, F for Fake won’t even appear as the tiniest blip on your radar. Instead, I’d recommend watching V for Vendetta again (which is a really great film, mind you).

Welles is probably the most engaging person in this film, as it is his thoughts that we are riding like a surfer on the wave. While the film did bounce right off me, it was nice to see a film with a documentary style that defied expectations and didn’t have to present both sides of an argument. The film is him, speaking directly onto the celluloid, and as the stories tell, Welles took some commercial jobs and acting roles he loathed to create films like this. (Does anyone remember him in Transformers: The Movie? Didn’t think so.) But seeing as this is Welles’ last film, I couldn’t help feel that a part of F for Fake was him trying to explain, summarize, or even apologize for his own career. He points to the infamous “War of the Worlds” broadcast as an example of how persuasive a good liar can be. While he certainly didn’t intend it, I found this film to be his epitaph. That notion gave it some emotionality, but it also didn’t hook me into truly understanding what was going on.

Final Judgment: Uh…

F for Fake is one of those films that’s brilliant after you’ve watched it and hated it. It’s a one of a kind experience, which I think is a testament to Orson Welles’ style. Few, if any, have attempted an essay film (and probably for good reason) which makes this one even more unique. I obviously can’t recommend it for the average viewer, but if you feel like something different (way different) and would like a DVD you’ll probably wind up going back to in order to figure it out, then you can definitely do worse than F for Fake.

The Most Depressing News of the Week

We live in a world where atrocities are commonplace. Just turn on the news to see soldiers having their heads blown off in Iraq, horrible acts of deviance and depravity being performed on young children, and tragic events like the recent bus disaster that lead to many passengers losing their lives. However, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve come across something that has made me lose faith in humanity altogether…

The Geico Cavemen are getting their own sitcom.

I’m going to repeat that, because it bears repeating. The Geico Cavemen (an ad from the company with the worst marketing department in the world. You know, “So Easy a Caveman Could Do It”?) are getting their own sitcom.

This is it, folks! The Apocalypse is here! Start maxing out your credit cards and having unprotected sex with your neighbor’s spouse; we’re not going to last much longer.

This is one of those things that makes me do a cartoon-like double take. My eyes bug out of my head and my jaw unhinges and drops to the floor. (yes, my tongue rolls out like a red carpet, too.) It’s the fucking Geico Cavemen! What in the name of Xenu have they done to deserve this? Even more, what have we done to deserve this?! Whatever it is, I’m sorry, but please don’t hurt me like this.

The show will, as the ads do, focus on the erudite cavemen (and supposedly, cavewomen) leading normal lives and encountering prejudice. Good natured, yes. But, a good natured bad idea is still a bad idea. This show is going to be like 3rd Rock from the Sun, but worse, because there’s no room to go after the first episode. How will the producers and writers keep finding something fresh to come back to? It is, like the commercials are, a one-note horn. But at least hearing one note for 30 seconds is better (in it’s own weird way) than hearing that same note for a full half hour. You’d pray for commercials after the first 5 minutes. At least there, there’d be some variety!

And who’s responsible for this amniotic-fluid-covered, screeching abomination of a television program? ABC. The American Broadcasting Corporation. The same people who won our hearts (for a few moments, at least) with Who Wants to Be A Millionaire? have now taken what goodwill they have left and pissed all over it. To be honest, I only watched ABC for Saturday Morning Cartoons when I was younger and The Drew Carey Show when I was older. Now that both of them are gone, I could care less about ABC. They are filling space on my channel roster, since I guess it’s not cost-efficient to put a test pattern in its place.

I’ve bitched loudly and openly that Geico have the worst commercials out there on the television today. The Gecko is slightly bearable, like a pet that doesn’t demand too much attention. But everything else that Geico does is pure horseshit. I’m glad I live in New York City and don’t have to drive a car, so I don’t have to give any of my money to those mind-numbing criminals, stealing my life 30 seconds at a time. So I urge anyone who is just as perplexed and distraught about these proceedings as I am to take action. Sure, the military quagmire that is Iraq is important, as are such riveting reports like “Anna Nicole: Still Dead”, but this is an issue that demands immediate and widespread coverage. Let’s send Geico a message that we won’t stand for their unfunny crap anymore. And let’s let ABC know that this is a bad move. ABC needs to be told these things; after all, this was the network that canceled Clerks: The Animated Series.

But ultimately, I whine and complain, but this really doesn’t affect me or anyone else too much. The Cavemen (as I’m sure it’ll be called) will suck, but I won’t watch it. Neither will with vast majority of the American public. The only ones being affected are the poor suckers that are investing their time and money into making it. Eventually, it will wither away and die a quiet death, like most other bad ideas made by important people. By that point, something bigger will occupy our attention, and The Cavemen can pass gracefully into the Big Programming Office in the Sky.

P.S. Many of you are also aware that Burger King has just announced a development deal for a feature film starring their mascot, The Burger King. Frankly, I’m tired, so I’ll leave this one up to anyone reading. Please post a comment (it doesn’t hurt, honest!) below and debate which one is the worse idea. I may join in if this gets heated.