Solarmanite Sketches

Precious (2009)

2010-03-08T20:36:00.000-08:00

#14: Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push'...Sadly, Not the Psychic Teen Sci-Fi/Action Picture 'Push' with Dakota Fanning (2009)

Let it be known: although there are many, many things wrong with Precious (some of which I've detailed in the following paragraphs), and almost as many things wrong with Mo'nique's Oscar acceptance speech, the comedienne-turned-serious-actor deserved her win last night. In fact, I wish the little gold man had been bestowed upon director Lee Daniels as well, as it's truly remarkable that he managed to get a gaggle of non-actors (first-timers Gabourey Sidibe and Lenny Kravitz, please-God-let-this-be-the-last-timer Mariah Carey and, of course, Mo'nique) to turn out performances that not only weren't terrible, but quite good. Unfortunately, the only thing remarkable about the rest of Precious is how often it compelled me to turn off my DVD player.

The film opens its inspirational journey with Precious, an illiterate, obese, physically, mentally and sexually abused 16-year old kicked out of school after being forcibly impregnated with her father's second child. The film closes on a hopeful note, with Precious, a slightly-less-illiterate, obese, physically, mentally and sexually scarred 17-year old willfully leaving her alternative school after being forcibly infected with her father's HIV. If all that sounds like a lot to unpack, fear not: it's laid out very simply at the beginning of Precious, then hammered repeatedly and explicitly with titanium hands and screaming heads. It's emotional torture porn, and soon it all means nothing. Unless you're into racial stereotypes, which Precious sports in spades.

Thought that segway was bad? Stay away from Precious! Mo'nique takes the welfare queen trope to new heights (depths?): uneducated, unemployed, and emotionally incompetent, she only leaves the couch to beat on Precious or pimp a Down's syndrome toddler (Precious' first child) to visiting social workers. She's Ronald Reagan's wet dream! Which begs a VERY important question...when was the last time you saw anyone on welfare (which, as presented in Precious, doesn't even exist anymore, btw) in a film? Exactly.

Whether Precious wants to admit it or not, it single-heavy-handedly represents over 39 million American families of all colors and creeds currently living below the poverty line. Most of its viewers will never know poverty, and in all likelihood will never even know those who know poverty; whether they want to admit it or not, they rely on pop culture relics like Precious to show them what it's "really like" for those living on the fringe. That Precious is a low-budget, independent African American production only furthers the perception of "authenticity", which only makes it sadder that it traffics in such harmful stereotypes.

Sad, but unsurprising. How can a film shoulder such a burden as responsible representation when it can't even bother to fact-check? During one of Precious' fantasy sequences, images are projected onto a wall from the Tiananmen Square protests, despite the fact that the story is set in 1987, two years BEFORE those incidents. In another, Precious and her mother appear in an Italian movie they were watching on TV...with subtitles. Even though they can't read. One more for the road: Precious' Down's-syndrome daughter is affectionately dubbed "Mongo", short for "Mongoloid". Again, they're illiterate - how would they know such an advanced (and curiously out of date) word? I know they don't listen to Devo!

So yes, Precious has some stellar performances. But it's ironic how Mo'nique went on and on about politics in her Oscar speech, because this is precisely where Precious fails.

2010 Movie Diary: Armored (2009), The Wolfman (2010), Moscow, Belgium (2009)

2010-02-20T11:57:00.000-08:00

#11: Armored (2009)
Format: 35mm ($2 theater)

When I learned that low-budget heist film Armored was opening at the $2 theater, I knew I had to go. Throughout all of 2009, the second-run theater played the second-rate trailer before nearly every film - which makes total sense for movies like Taken, Public Enemies and Inglourious Basterds, but less so for I Love You Beth Cooper, Whip It and Up. Elizabeth & I tied the Armored trailer so closely to the $2 theater that when I saw a billboard on Santa Monica Blvd, it was like some embarrassing inside joke had been shared with the world.

However overplayed Armored the trailer was, Armored the movie isn't at all embarrassing. It's a decent b-action pic, with the "b" standing firmly for "blue collar": Ty is a returning veteran, trying to keep his deceased-parents' home from foreclosure and his younger brother out of trouble in a down economy. Ty literally needs to fill his father's shoes, working his father's old post, with his father's old friends and co-workers, at a small-time armored truck company. Ty isn't the only new blood on the crew - starting tomorrow, the company will switch over to GPS-tracked, state-of-the-art trucks; meaning, the one chance the old boys will ever have to pull off a big heist is today, whether or not they can get Ty on board.

Fittingly, a troop of "working character actors" rounds out the gang of guards: Skeet Ulrich, Jean Reno, Matt Dillon and Laurence Fishburne. Some big roles between them, but no superstars. Here, there's some big stunts (two chase scenes with the armored trucks), but no fancy gadgets. Just a bunch of guys banding together for one simple plan, and unraveling when it turns out nothing's that simple. Instead of overblown plots of double-agents, electronics, and explosions typical of the heist film, the actions of Armored all come down to personal experience, morality and trust. It's not as sexy as Danny Ocean, but it hits close to home, which is why such an otherwise unassuming film hits so hard.

#12 The Wolfman (2010)
Format: 35mm (AMC Burbank)

The werewolf is a savage hybrid; the cunning of a man, the viciousness of a beast. The Wolfman is an equally dangerous hybrid; part music video, blockbuster, atmospheric drama and creature feature, it renders any tactic to lure you in. Yet, like the werewolf, the best hope for survival is to stay inside and avoid it at all costs.

The production design, courtesy of original Wolfman director Mark Romanek, is gorgeous. Unlike many period horror films, which look like people playing dress-up, there's an eery Gothic atmosphere here, particularly in the lighting and a nightmarish asylum sequence. The monster effects are similarly fantastic - the werewolves very much embody the facial personalities of their actors (no spoilers, although it becomes rather obvious rather quickly who the original werewolf is...but I'll get to that later) as much as the bestial elements distort them. Rick Baker's legendary monster effects in American Werewolf in London transformed the werewolf genre and the horror film. His work in The Wolfman is nowhere near as groundbreaking, but he refines his craft and brings a pedigree that nearly saves the rest of the film.

Which brings us to...the rest of the film. According to an interview with replacement Wolfman director Joe Johnston, the script was largely left intact, but parts were rewritten, endings reshot and then new editors came in at the last minute to further meddle. Much of The Wolfman simply feels out of step. Story-building scenes seem rushed, particularly romantic ones between Benicio del Toro and Emily Blunt, his dead brother's fiance that he's known all of a few days. Other scenes leave very obvious clues as to the identity of the original Wolfman, and yet others repeat variations on this same information, until the identity is finally presented as some sort of shocking twist.

It's frustrating and a little depressing to imagine The Wolfman that could have been, for just as you get set into full-on hating the film, there's a faint glimmer of brilliance. Yet, much like the bits of man left in the beast, it must be ignored as you wince and fire away. For all that glimmer says is: "if you love me you must destroy me, for I've lost all control over myself".

#13 Moscow, Belgium (2009)
Format: DVD

I was kind enough to receive this as a screener from Neo-Classic Pictures for review on LAist (for those who don't know, Elizabeth & I have a weekly Film Calendar posted every Wednesday, and I contribute occasional reviews). It's available here.

I'm still pretty backed up, with thoughts on Precious, North by Northwest and Frank Zappa forthcoming. But lacking time to write also means I lack time to watch, so I'm not too far behind. As long as I'm on track for my 100 by the end of the year, if it doesn't bother you, it won't bother me. What do you think?

Movie Diary Catchup: Brazil (1985), Sabrina (1954), Martin (1977)

2010-02-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

2010 Movie Diary 8: Brazil (1985)
Format: Netflix DVD

This is the fourth or fifth time I've seen Terry Gilliam's Brazil, and while I haven't seen all his films, I feel this is the closest he'll ever come to "getting it right". Gilliam's battles for creative control are infamous; Brazil is no exception. There are at least 3 versions that I know of, ranging from a 90-minute studio cutlet (complete with a "happy ending"), to the 142-minute mega-super-final-director's-cut presented on Criterion's lavish DVD set. I doubt I've seen the same version twice, but this time I felt Brazil ran a bit long. It's as though Gilliam anticipated a future of "creative differences" and carefully crammed every idea and thread into the film in case he never got to work again.

But this is nitpicking - on the whole, Brazil remains a marvelous meld of slapstick and satire. It's especially interesting to view now, as our obsession with going paperless makes the seas of paperwork that surround the conflict more surreal than ever. Where Brazil gets downright spooky is its rapid spread of misinformation. All it takes is one keystroke to spark an inferno, which calls for complete smothering (through armed guards and an Abu-Ghraib-meets-The-Gimp bodysuit), then an instant return to business as usual until the next kneejerk comes along. In the film, the keystroke is presented as an innocent mistake; these days, I'm not so sure.

2010 Movie Dary 9: Sabrina (1954)
Format: DVD

When an actress is as iconic as Audrey Hepburn, their essence and appeal are absorbed without exposing a single foot of film. I admit it - though I've seen many a dorm-room Breakfast at Tiffany's poster and Gap commercial, I'd never seen any Audrey on screen. She's a delight as Sabrina, a mousy chauffeur's daughter who goes to Paris and returns a mousy debutante (aside from the clothes, I couldn't find a difference). It's no wonder brothers Humphrey Bogart & William Holden fall for her, but can the family business survive this servant infiltration? Though the satirical elements take a backseat to the fairytale romance, Billy Wilder lends plenty of sly dialogue & hard-boiled exchanges, which Bogie & Holden lap up. It's great to see the three boys lend noir-ish mentalities & leanings while keeping the fantasy intact.

2010 Movie Diary 10: Martin (1977)
Format: Netflix DVD

George Romero's oeuvre of the undead isn't limited to zombies. In Martin, filmed nearly a decade after Night of the Living Dead and a year before Dawn of the Dead, Romero tackles vampires. Maybe. Martin Matthias claims to be an 84-year old vampire with an insatiable blood lust (which, lacking fangs, he satisfies with hypodermic needles and razor blades). His elderly cousin Tata Cuda, a religious fanatic, believes him enough to want to "save" and then destroy him. Martin has two outlets: a younger cousin and a call-in radio show, but nobody suspends their disbelief. Martin doesn't make it easy for me to either; there's a frenzied quality to Martin's murders, complete with black & white hallucinations of vampire life, but when this experimental style is applied to the dialogue scenes (and there are many), it looks, frankly, cheap. John Amplas is the perfect sleazy creep (more Max Schreck than R. Patts), but he's neither a sympathetic misfit nor a fearsome killer. So...what is he, and what is Martin? Some great ideas, don't get me wrong, but I wish Martin had saved one of his needles for me.

Movie Diary: Avatar (2009)

2010-01-30T20:30:00.000-08:00

2010 Movie Diary 7: Avatar 3D (2009)
Format: 35mm (AMC Burbank)

I admit it. I was wrong. Over a month out, James Cameron's über-epic Avatar is still three degrees of box office fire! It's on track to out-gross Titanic (although, given inflation & the extra $3-5 tacked on for 3D movies, I doubt it's sold more tickets), and owing to that populism, might even snag the Best Picture Oscar. Unfortunately, my skepticism of the movie's quality was entirely justified.

Before I get into the swing of things, I went out of my way to see Avatar. I work full-time, drive to work part-time and come home to another full-time job as a parent, a side gig as a writer and a $2 second-run theater in my immediate vicinity. One of the reasons I chose to make this movie diary a project in 2010 was to entice myself to keep up with newish releases when every logical facet tells me to let it go. So, on Martin Luther King Day, amidst El Niño's fury, I drove to the Red Line, Red Lined to Hollywood, found we had looked up the wrong movie time (it was for Avatar 2D), scrambled to find another place playing it at a reasonable hour, and booked it to Burbank. Soaked & shivering, I wanted to be whisked away to Pandora. Instead, I was wholly stupefied.

Pandora should be an interesting universe. The entire planet is networked, with Na'vi humanoid and alien beast literally linking into one another via brain-stems. The execution is kinda fetishistic and creepy, but it's a genius idea. Ditto for the multiple layers in which "avatars" exist - beyond the titular Avatar program, wherein human minds control alien bodies, there are marine troops whose physical movements control mechanized bodies, and, the Pandora network wherein Na'vi minds control animal bodies. The more the body becomes interconnected, the more identity becomes fragmented. The more I think about the potential behind these concepts, the more I wish Avatar had been fleshed out by David Cronenberg.

Unfortunately, the world of Avatar was chiseled, pixel by pixel, camera by camera, by James "King of the World" Cameron. It's a fitting crescendo for Cameron's obsession with pioneering special effects. Previously, his films had brought unnatural terrors into our world - and we ran for our lives. Now, with Avatar, his effects have finally outlasted our heroes' ability to fend them off; the unnatural is now hyper-natural, and our greatest hope is that we can join it. It's taken a decade, but Cameron can finally embrace his liquid fascination with fully fluid digital characters. But in a post-WETA world, pioneering effects quickly become common practice, technology loses its magic even quicker, and all we have left is the story.

Simply put, the story is where Avatar fails. I'm about to get very snarky, and if you haven't seen the film yet... OMG SPOLIERZ~!

In what would appear to be a pro-environmental, anti-corporate, tree-hugging Avatar, there is one fat colonial cliché - that of the conquistador quickly mastering native customs, and becoming a "super-native" and deity. Disabled vet Jake Sully's body and technology have failed him, so it makes sense that he would see his Avatar as a blessed form where he can literally run free. But just as it is never explained why there are wheelchairs in the future, there is no explanation for the Na'vi's embrace of Sully when they recognize him as an Avatar from the hated "sky people". The audience knows him to be "the chosen one" (as proclaimed in a Snow White moment by the jellyfish-souls of the tree of life), but all the Na'vi know him as is a "warrior from the Jarhead clan". Never mind the logic gap that the Na'vi consider "sky people" warriors more trustworthy than "sky people" scientists & teachers; the Na'vi allow Sully to leech all elements of their culture, when they gain nothing from their relationship, unless they've always wanted a military mole.

Luckily, Sully is a mole entranced. Like a hipster with kanji tattoos, he wears his obsession with the "exotic" group on his sleeve. He spends so much time as an Avatar that his human body becomes filthy & decrepit. Within a couple months, without even knowing the language, he partakes in all the major Na'vi lifecycle rituals, then dismantles their entire social hierarchy by wooting & mating the princess Neytiri, but it's cool. Then the rest of the "sky people" come, and the Na'vi realize their beloved-for-no-real-reason warrior was working for other warriors, who now know all their secrets. Uh oh, Spaghetti O's!

Around this time, the military-industrial outfit that employed Sully figure out he's gone native for Na'vi puffs, but they already have their strike planned against the Na'vi for the rare "unobtainium" (yes, that's really what it's called. Really.) buried beneath the tree of life. In a very strategic maneuver which was only possible due to Sully's careful intel, they blow it up. Then they leave; apparently the $20M-a-gram mineral that's driven their entire operation isn't valuable enough to actually harvest. But they aren't the only ones foregoing the tree of life; after an entire movie in which the Na'vi maintain that they cannot cooperate with the "sky people" because the tree of life is the crux of their civilization, once it's destroyed they simply move along to the tree of souls, which is actually the crux of their civilization. For reals this time. If you're reading this before watching Avatar, I just saved you over a hundred minutes. And it doesn't get any better in that last hour.

Back to Jake Sully, white god. The Na'vi have a legend, where anyone who tames a Leonopteryx, Pandora's fiercest predator, will become a great leader. Although no Na'vi has tamed the creature for hundreds of years, Sully, using his chosen colonial brain-trust, masters the mighty steed by jumping on its head. Sully then wills Pandora itself into action, something not even the highest Na'vi spiritual I.T. could accomplish. Having proven himself superior to the Na'vi, their gods, and his colonial compadres (who just pack up and leave...certainly not to return in greater numbers with even more advanced weapons for the sequel), he can now complete his transformation into Big Blue forever.

But it's not really not these overarching concepts that bother me; after all, I love plenty of genre movies that are racist, sexist and intellectually offensive. It's more the nonplussed way I felt leaving the theater (these rants were all refrigerator moments), when everyone else was on their feet in applause. I realize I'm not an average, normal, or reasonable person, but is this really it? Why is Avatar "the game-changer"? The effects are good, but no better than WETA's work on Lord of the Rings. Why is it the highest-grossing movie of all time? (besides, again, the extra $3-5 tacked on per ticket)

I honestly don't see why such a mediocre sci-fi melodrama, dressed in pretty graphics, has connected so definitively with so many people. I should have just gone for 7 movies at the second-run theater.

Movie Diary: Mirageman (2008)

2010-01-23T11:47:00.000-08:00

2010 Movie Diary 6: Mirageman (2008)
Format: Netflix DVD

The words "everyday" and "ordinary" become terribly skewed when used to describe superheroes. Batman is an "ordinary" hero in that he doesn't have mutated/alien/magical abilities, but dude's a billionaire genius. Spiderman is an "everyday" guy in that he's a working-class family man, but he also sticks to walls, swings around the city, and shags Mary Jane. So, when I say Mirageman is an "everyday" guy and "ordinary" hero, I mean that as literally as possible. He's a nobody, with no powers or resources, driven solely by the pursuit of justice. And that's what makes Mirageman such an interesting, affecting and brutal superhero film.

Maco Gutierrez has a hard life. Years ago, his parents were murdered, and he and his brother were assaulted and raped. His brother never recovered; residing in an asylum, he won't even leave his room. Maco's somewhat better; he lives alone, works as a bouncer and fanatically trains his body to enact some vengeance, somewhere, sometime. When Maco stumbles upon a robbery and assault in progress, he spies the perfect opportunity, and when he finds he has saved tabloid news personality Carol Valdivieso, the media dubs him a hero, a public menace and an unwilling reality TV star.

Although there are some funny moments (mostly revolving around the impracticality of costume changes and transportation), Mirageman is no comedy. Shot in unflinching digital video, the film is rough and raw. The obsessive details of Maco's training build an incredible investment in the character, and pay off in some incredible martial arts street fights (Marko Zaror, who plays Maco, did all his own stunts & fight choreography). This further disquiets already tense stand-offs when Maco dives too deep into the Chilean underworld; no amount of repetitions, blood or sweat drops could repel a bullet. Dark sketches from his brother break into the fights as well; no man, even the most dedicated, can live up to comic fantasies. Or can he?

What makes a hero? Is it helping others, inspiring them, or is it knowing when to walk away? These are questions usually left unanswered in superhero films, and Mirageman's painful breakdown of the conflicts & consequences of masked vigilantism is admirable. That it does so without losing the spirit of what makes superheroes larger than life is particularly impressive.

Movie Diary: Sherlock Holmes (2009)

2010-01-17T21:29:00.000-08:00

2010 Movie Diary 5: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Format: 35mm (AMC Burbank)

After Iron Man, I'm convinced that Robert Downey Jr. should play every smart-alecky action hero. He's the white Will Smith, the young Bruce Willis, the alcoholic Bruce Campbell... I could go on all night. And Sherlock Holmes only furthers this belief.

Downey transforms Holmes is a drunken, mad, streetfighting genius. It's probably blasphemous, but no more so than film adaptations where Holmes chases after the Loch Ness Monster, or doesn't even exist. I've yet to read any of Doyle's original stories, but I'll go out on a bridge: Holmes as scientist, detective AND badass-Guy-Ritchie-dude is both a pleasant surprise, and the only way the character could function in an increasingly populist, anti-intellectual culture. It isn't as though Holmes becomes a thug - even when bare-knuckle boxing, he dissects the entire fight blow-by-blow, to optimize his martial art. But he's never one to shy from a fight.

Admittedly, Holmes' antics are so rousing that the mystery plot is where Sherlock Holmes falters. Lord Blackwood, an occultist, seems to have risen from the grave for a string of murders & public panic. The film plays up the magic & secret society angles so beautifully that Holmes' scientific investigation actually kills the fun. It isn't until the very end that any of Holmes' second act comes back, not with the "a-ha!" satisfaction typical of mysteries, but an "O RLY?" and an eye-brow raise.

So...this Sherlock Holmes isn't for the purists. But it's a fun action-comedy, nonetheless.

Movie Diary: OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (2006)

2010-01-16T19:09:00.000-08:00

2010 Movie Diary 4: OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (2006)
Format: Netflix Watch Instantly

Before the Middle East became a bastion of war & terrorism, it held a mystic grip over Western pop culture. From Shriner's fezzes, to exotica records, to all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, anything Middle Eastern screamed mysterious, romantic & alluring. French comedy OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies filters both mindsets through a '60s spy spoof for a sweet dose of nostalgia that's smart and silly.

Secret agent OSS 117 (whose pulp fiction roots predate Jame Bond) flies to Cairo on a mission to track his partner's killer and a missing Russian battleship. The maze of markets, nightclubs & alleys is nearly impenetrable, with a strange language, strange customs, and double-agents around every corner. It doesn't help that OSS 117 sticks out like a sore thumb, and leaves everyone he meets even sorer.

OSS 117 isn't a total buffoon like Austin Powers or Maxwell Smart, but he's certainly no James Bond. He's very charming, reasonably intelligent, and unreasonably ignorant. It's a credit to his charisma that he can matter-of-factly insult so many of his allies, their culture and religion while maintaining sympathy (although once the film is reissued in 3D I may try to reach out and bite his tongue). But whereas another comedy might simply present him saying these outrageous statements as the joke, in OSS 117, these words have severe consequences, and that's the joke. This slyly twists a light comedy and fish-out-of-water storyline into a satire of Western intervention and attitudes towards the Middle East.

But OSS 117 is enjoyable well beyond a smarty-pants political reading. Its stylish cinematography is a gorgeous throwback to '60s spy films, and, being set in the 1950's, it pays loving tribute to the era's Egyptian obsession. Not to shit on Austin Powers or Maxwell Smart again (I'd love to make this hip & modern with The Spy Next Door jokes, but nobody watched that anyway...), but I've never bought them as actual spies. Comedian Jean Dujardin infuses OSS 117 with the right amount of charm (he's mastered the art of the eyebrow!) and just enough brains that I'm with him, and want him to do it. Which only makes his crashing & burning even funnier.

Apparently, a sequel set in Rio came out last year in France, and another sequel is in the works. I hope both hit these shores soon.

Movie Diary: Where The Wild Things Are (2009)

2010-01-14T20:13:00.000-08:00

2010 Movie Diary 3: Where The Wild Things Are (2009)
Format: 35mm ($2 theater)

As you may or may not know, I recently earned a number of additional duties at work. My official promotion goes into effect next week. This is universally pretty awesome - with the exception of the doomsday comet it sends into the "writing for fun and (non) profit" universe. It's a bit tricky to motivate myself to write after I've spent a whole day writing, meeting about writing, or working on my weekly LAist column. It's also tricky because I had no energy before, and now I have even less no energy. Par ejemplo, when I saw this last Friday, I was so tired I fell asleep for about ten minutes. At a 9:20 showing. Depressing.

But not as depressing as what I remembered of Where The Wild Things Are. I realize that all adaptations undergo some change, particularly when turning a 25-page book into a 2 hour movie, but why did Spike make Where The Wild Things Are so fucking emo?

The divorce stuff isn't what bothers me. I actually think it adds a bit to the film; explains why Max spends so much time by himself in a cat costume. It's the dysfunctional Wild Things that bother me. Where The Wild Things Are the book is a nice little story about a little rapscallion who causes some mischief, gets busted for it, goes into a fantasy land where he can raise all the wild rumpus he wants, cools down, and rejoins society. In Where The Wild Things Are the movie, a lonely little boy is kind of an asshole, takes it out on his mom, then literally runs away to a magical land where all the monsters are as screwed up as he is - each one a fragment of his personality (e.g. Alexander is small & ignored, Judith is skeptical of authority, Carol is a hyper-emotional brute).

Which is a shame because Spike Jonze's universe is so mesmerizing. The simple jungle of the book becomes lush forests, arid deserts, monumental forts & hidden cities. The Wild Things themselves are incredible - actors in suits, with CGI faces - a perfect blend of presence & fluidity. So...where's the fun in this fantasy?

Compare Where The Wild Things Are to Labyrinth, another dark fantasy that's supposedly made for kids but primarily consumed by hipsters. Its fantasy doubled back to its real-life conflict too, but it was a true journey: a girl teetering between childhood and adulthood struggles to find herself, falls in with a bunch of comic relief, overcomes a series of obstacles, faces down villainy & ta-da! End scene! Without any external conflict in Where The Wild Things Are, it all implodes; the Wild Things can't band together against a common foe, so they must band together against themselves. Each of these interpersonal (interthingal?) conflicts in the Wild Things universe perfectly mirrors Max's "real world" struggles, but just like those, the film never bothers to resolve any of it.

Maybe that's the point, that this isn't fantasy, this is real life. But isn't that why we run away to dark places? If Max can't even be king in his castle, he's just kind of an asshole.

Movie Diary: Scream (1996)

2010-01-06T19:43:00.000-08:00

2010 Movie Diary 2: Scream (1996)
Format: Netflix Watch Instantly

I haven't seen Scream since its first release. I was 12 or 13, and hated it. Mention of it as influential or even - gasp! - classic, infuriated me to no end. Metatextualism & "post-slashers" just weren't my bloody bag. But now that I can appreciate all things post, I figured I'd give it another go-round.

It's nice to get all the in-jokes this time - my favorite is a quick sight-gag with a striped-sweater, hat-wearing janitor named Fred. My memory's failed me; I thought Scream was horror with a little bit of comedy, when it's the polar opposite. Scream is so funny that the Wayans' spoof, Scary Movie, seems entirely redundant. How can you make fun of something that doesn't take itself seriously? But I digress.

Wes Craven & co. sneak some spectacular stalking sequences betwixt all that comedy. The intro with Drew Barrymore could be clipped & shown as a separate short, and the garage struggle with Rose McGowan is brilliant. Both the ghost-face killer and the would-be victims exhibit mastery of resources: the fights are as evenly-matched as cinema comes, and the desperate grasps for whatever's lying around the house to use as a weapon are entirely believable. This practicality brings the often-ridiculous slasher genre back to reality, and makes Scream smart and thrilling.

But then it all goes out the window during the "rules" sequences & aftermath, wherein the teens openly flout their knowledge of how to survive a slasher - which becomes incredibly handy once they realize they're in a slasher! ZOMG!

One of the pleasures of watching a slasher film is how unapologetically it sticks to conventions. As self-aware as Scream is, at the end of the day, it's still a slasher, and is indebted to follow that same path. When you have characters aware of horror conventions, who loudly proclaim themselves to be above them, there's no excuse for them to turn around and waltz right into them. But they have to, otherwise their talk of "rules" is baseless, and Bob Weinstein flips the fuck out because there's a slasher with no body count.

It's frustrating because everyone is genuinely likable. You know they're better than that. The casting is fantastic - Courtney Cox as the shameless tabloid reporter; David Arquette as the childlike, ineffectual authority figure; Rose McGowan as the friend struggling to understand; Johnny Depp (excuse me...Skeet Ulrich) as the spooky, alluring, suspicious lover; and Neve Campbell as the best final girl since Jamie Lee Curtis. I buy her as sensitive, I buy her as threatened, I buy her as a bad-ass. Girl's versatile. But just because they can do it all doesn't mean they should, and when they juggle too many balls, they all fall down.

I appreciate Scream much more now, but the truth is it cannot walk the line. Its snarkiness undermines its horror. Its gruesomeness kills its fun. It goes sympathetic, then immediately obnoxious, then tries to double-back. It zigs when it talks talks talks about how it's going to zag. It's truly a shame it doesn't gel, because the sum of its parts are pretty close to perfect.

Movie Diary: The Wild Bunch (1969)

2010-01-03T15:58:00.000-08:00

Rather than forge New Year's resolutions, I decided to set several New Year's Projects for myself in 2010. This is one of them, a movie diary of everything I see in 2010. The tentative goal is 100 films, which even with my schedule should be doable without being so oppressive it isn't any fun any more. Let's give it a go, shall we?

2010 Movie Diary 1: The Wild Bunch (1969)
Format: Blu-Ray (picked it up at Target for $10!)

It's been several years since I'd last seen The Wild Bunch, and I was surprised how much of it I'd forgotten. Even though I knew in my head that much of the story is set in Mexico, I didn't realize how much of the dialogue would be unsubtitled Spanish (perhaps this is only an issue on the blu-ray?). After a few moments of scrambling to make sure I selected the right subtitle track, I realized this is one of the film's key assets in building tension; like the boys in the bunch, I'm thoroughly confused, but know enough to know that something ain't right.

For those unfamiliar with The Wild Bunch, "something ain't right" is an apt plot summary. Set in 1913, the story follows a cadre of aged thieves & scruffy scoundrels on their last-ditch last job, an attempt to rob an army train, deliver its contents across the border & ride off into the sunset. Along the way, the bunch learns that the sun has long set on their West, and the harsh new era will eat them alive. This is portrayed beautifully in The Wild Bunch's opening sequence, where two deadly scorpions are overwhelmed by a swarm of red ants, and then burned by giggling children. More than any other Western I can recall, The Wild Bunch features poor families & children interlaced with its violence. One telling shot shows a woman with a baby at one breast, and an ammo belt at the other. It's not a melodramatic tug for "saving the children", but a matter-of-fact argument that the beginning of one generation must signal the end of another.

At the time of its release, The Wild Bunch was heavily criticized for blasting out a new generation of violent American cinema. Make no mistake: the action set-pieces are still bloody & brutal, particularly in a shocking bank shootout that opens the film and an all-out slaughter when the Mexican Army ambushes the bunch. But even when the bullets stop flying, the bunch's environment is ultra-harsh; a loss of their horses while descending a dune shows their very world threatening them in every moment. This daily struggle becomes laughably hopeless once the bunch forges on and encounters industrialization, trains & automobiles. Many of these laughs are provided by the bunch themselves, their gallows humor an amiable defense against their mounting futility.

To grossly oversimplify the Western genre, it's about (re)defining the self in a period of transition to face a new era. While it's poignant when this wild bunch finds it cannot survive the test of time, it's wonderful to rediscover that The Wild Bunch certainly can. I'm glad I set aside the time to revisit it.

If anyone's reading this besides me, I'd love to hear what you think. Post a comment, message, or email me. If not - no worries, this is a personal project as much as it is a public one.

2009 Film Round-Up

2009-12-30T18:55:00.000-08:00

I always find the prospect of "best of the year" lists a tad disingenuous, for the simple reason that, unless you work for a publication where you have access to seeing the hundreds of films that are released every year, there's no way you could see everything you wanted to see in a year, let alone everything "you're supposed to see", for a comprehensive list.

So, with that in mind: I saw 28 new-release films in 2009. Since that's so few, I'll just review them all. I'm also more than willing to justify / defend / speak intelligently about these films upon request.

Here's everything I saw in a theater that I enjoyed the most, enough to purchase later on down the line & watch repeatedly:

The Fantastic Mr. Fox - unfairly & unceremoniously dumped (I saw it at the $2 theater mere weeks after release), this has the most personality of any film I've seen this year. Wes Anderson's fingerprints are literally all over every frame, and frankly, I'm impressed that a "celebrity cast" was able to put in such a great vocal performance.

District 9 - simply phenomenal. Since I saw it relatively late in its release, I was very familiar with the unique storytelling devices & overhyped social commentary (although it made for HUGE lulz when black people were still the real villains). Apparently, everyone got caught up on this and forgot to mention how AMAZING THE ACTION WAS! The alt-reality promo was equally impressive, from the "humans only" bus stops to the faux company websites that claimed to be last updated in '96 - and looked the part!

Food, Inc. - an important film. Since I work at a nonprofit that works with health, nutrition & food issues, much of this was news to me, and I was disappointed at first, particularly since, like most secular-apocalypto-docs, it riles you up but provides no clear course of action other than going veggie locovore. Then I observed the impact on those who aren't as familiar - I saw it twice, and both times my companions were floored. That's when I realized: this film is a big deal. So many people take food & its production for granted, yet this is what you put in your body many times every day. As soon as I can figure out how to, I want to buy a copy for my local library.

My original review (note: back when I was more cynical view of the film) is up at MAZON.

Taken - surprising. I NEVER expected to enjoy this film as much as I did. But Liam Neeson is totally believable AND totally bad-ass! The action sacrifices gore for raw intensity, and has a few truly shocking spots given its largely clean tone. It's also got one of my favorite, classic exploitation signatures: a white slavery ring. When has this EVER existed outside of a marquee? Loves it!

Crank: High Voltage - LOVES IT! I'll go on for days about the original Crank. All the words I've used to describe Crank are back for High Voltage: dizzying, outrageous, mindless, WTF, OH SHIT!, I'll drink to that! Even more than the original, it's a video-game brought to life - and I mean that in the best possible way. If you're one of those people who always bitches about how you wish you grew up in the '70s for all those exploitation movies, you need to sit down, shut the fuck up, and pop this in your Playstation 3.

Star Trek - I'm a lifelong Star Wars fan, but damn if this & Khan aren't enough to make me want to switch sides. The cast has wonderful chemistry (I hope to see 10 more films with this crew ;)), and the ships & planets are pure fantasy and truly fantastic. But what impressed me the most? The comedy - I wasn't expecting so much of it in this film, let alone intentional, great comedy. The only thing that keeps this from perfection is Eric Bana's Romulan drillbit taylor overlord. But the rest is so fantastic I completely forget about him until I set down to write this.

Drag Me To Hell - the only film from this list I've actually seen multiple times (so far). Let's get something out of the way: it's no Evil Dead. Nothing ever could be. But that doesn't mean this isn't a ton of fun, more than slightly ridiculous, and VERY enjoyable. I gave Alison Lohman a lot of shit based on the trailer, but were it not for my man-crush Justin Long being in the cast, she'd be my #1 spot!

Inglourious Basterds - thank goodness no grammar Nazis had at that title, otherwise it'd be Tarantino Birkenau, no? If you think that's uneasy & borderline anti-semitic, that's how I feel about many parts of this film. But then I think of all the parts I enjoy. Like the most charming Nazi committed to celluloid, the HILARIOUS comedy, and the almost-good-I-wish-he-hadn't-opened-his-mouth-and-ruined-it performance Tarantino charmed out of Eli Roth. When the worst part of a movie is David Bowie on the soundtrack, you know you're watching a fucking fine motion picture.

Watchmen - I think Alan Moore's Watchmen is one of the finest pieces of literature ever written. It uses the comic format to the height of its ability, and I feel the film adaptation does the same with its medium. Take a look at that opening sequence again - what other film so adeptly forges an alternate universe in such a short period based on fully preexisting media? And if you aren't impressed by that, think about the lengths they had to go to to make Rorshach a realistic and sympathetic character. I hated him in the comic, I loved him in the movie. My only qualm is the ending; I both like and dislike this ending vs the comics. Happy to discuss if anyone's interested.

My Bloody Valentine 3D - Yes, it's a remake. Yes, it's a slasher. No surprises here, just a solid genre effort. The relocation to a failed mining town makes a real difference & real meaning, particularly as blue-collar unemployment became one of the leading issues of 2009. That's what genre films are all about - sneaking in ways for you to think.

Up! - I expected the worst. An old man and a young child? Yet, this film pleases both. Adults & cynics will love the themes of loss & nostalgia, as the children are enamored with the fantastic images of colorful balloons & forestry. This may be Pixar's sneakiest film yet.

For the second set, here are films I liked, but didn't love:

Black Devil Doll - rent this, but don't love this. I thought it was really funny, but Elizabeth really hated this and I trust her. We both agree on the pornographic-comedic car-wash scene, amongst others, but really...it's a blaxploitation Chucky. If you added to your Netflix queue based on that, good for you. If not, I still love you (but not as much as if you added it).

Push - I feel bad for Summit. They have the beyond blockbuster Twilight series, but everything else appears to be shit. Except this! Summit! You have another series! It isn't great, but it can be improved upon with various sequels! Honest! I'll watch them, and so will my wife!

Read my review (from when I was in the hospital, cough cough, sympathy sympathy) here.

Zombieland - If you were playing to stereotypes, this would be my #1 stunna, ha ha ha! Surprise! You don't even know me! No, but really. I did enjoy this, but it's not worth buying. I enjoyed the rules of the universe, and it's enjoyable, but that's about it. Sorry.

The Brothers Bloom - speaking of sorry, I wish I had enjoyed this when I wasn't about to go in the hospital. No, really. I couldn't tell you anything else about this, I was in so much pain. There was a Japanese woman who set off lots of explosives & the guy who made Brick, which I really enjoyed, introduced the screening. I don't remember much else.

Adventureland - at the time, I LOVED this film. Now? I'm merely impressed. I feel as though all the characters are realistic without becoming silly or unbelievable. Which, given the circumstance, is par for the course. On the other hand? I am these characters, which may be why I'm now disinterested. I go to the movies to escape my life, not relive it.

Whip It! - amazing film. Made me want to visit Austin, TX more than any other film I'v eever seen. Ever. Ellen Page is charming (first & only time I've said THAT), and even though she's the director, Drew Barrymore fucks up enough to be lovable.

The Hangover - hilarious? Damn right. One for the ages? Maybe not. Think of every comedy you've ever seen. Don't they make us look good? Even a little bit? The Hangover does not. Which isn't to say it isn't hilarious, but I have a teensy tiny bit of pride.

Public Enemies - there are many things to like about this film. Johnny Depp as Mr. Dillinger, for starters. The freakiness of all the guns, for seconders (say what you will, this film does NOT romanticize violence - it puts you in the middle at all times, and it isn't fun). And...for so many things this film does right, it just didn't peg me the right way.

I must hate the rest, because I haven't already written about them:

Friday the 13th - didn't do justice to Jason Voorhees. Yes, I'm serious. Mother fucker's been to the ends of the earth and to space. And this is what he comes back to? This isn't so much bad as it is boring. Zzzz....

I Love You Beth Cooper - not that I hated this movie, just it was sorta...there. You know? Not offensive enough to be ironically awesome, not standard enough to be good.

Brüno - wrote about this here. But let's just say, I'm a huge fan, but I was still hugely disappointed. Le sigh!

For your reference, here's the rest. Divvied by format:

35mm:
My Bloody Valentine 3D
The Brothers Bloom
Push
Watchmen
Friday the 13th
Taken
Adventureland
Black Devil Doll
Crank: High Voltage
Star Trek (IMAX)
Food, Inc.
Drag Me To Hell
I Love You Beth Cooper
Brüno
Public Enemies
District 9
The Hangover
Up!
Inglourious Basterds
Whip It!
The Fantastic Mr. Fox
Zombieland

Netflix:
Watchmen: Tales of the Black Freighter
The Haunting in Connecticut
Observe and Report
I Love You Man
Trick 'r Treat
Orphan

Brüno: Überdisappointment

2009-09-12T14:13:00.000-07:00

I'd been excited for years about a feature-film adaptation of Sacha Baron Cohen's Brüno. To save you valuable time and clicking:

Brüno's correspondence cuts deeper than that of Ali G and Borat because he reveals the ridiculous double-standards of masculinity. I'm thinking in particular of the Spring Break at Daytona Beach segment. Groups of young men freely and frequently engage in homoerotic activities like drinking, wrestling, and bunking with each other, but when one of these men (Brüno) identifies as gay, it suddenly threatens the homosocial dynamic and the group's collective "straightness". Uhh, hello? You both enjoy rolling around with men, so what's the problem?

So, it was much to my dismay earlier this summer that I walked into a theater bright-eyed & bushy-tailed and walked out...feeling nothing. After many weeks, I've finally been able to muster up enough disappointment to eulogize my beloved Brüno.

On "Da Ali G Show", Brüno is a subversive character; hilarity comes from his unexpected reveal of gayness in "straight" activities. Brüno does the opposite, with Cohen playing every stereotype from minute one to inflame überstraight passersby. This carte-blanche offense works wonders when Cohen dons his Borat disguise; since most people have no preconceptions of Kazakhs, they can accept his outrageous remarks at face value, and even join in on the antics. But gay stereotypes of dirty, disgusting, überfemme queens are very real, and when Brüno confirms these "truths", it doesn't challenge his mark's straightness (like TV Brüno), or loosen up their prejudice for a punchline (like Borat), it merely offends them and shuts them down. It isn't surprising (and thus, isn't funny) that Congressman Ron Paul would storm away from a "crazy queer" trying to seduce him, or that a group of hunters would reject discussing "Sex & The City". What is surprising are the number of controversial topics Brüno avoids – most notably Don't Ask Don't Tell (despite a lengthy sequence with the Alabama National Guard) & gay marriage bans like Prop. 8 – amidst Cohen's awkward shenanigans.

Luckily, a few threads in Brüno ditch the gay-face routine and get the comedy back on track. In a plot where Brüno attempts to become a celebrity, he encounters "charity consultants" who are all too willing to help him find his "Dar-five" ("Dar-four", it seems, is already outdated). Another has pageant parents cast their children's safety into the wind for a photo shoot featuring live insects, Nazi tots & a crucifixion. Yet, for each of these gold lamés, there are other sequences that fall back on Ali G-esque buffoonery, with Brüno confusing Hamas with hummus and accusing individuals of racism when they remind him that African-Americans don't live in Africa. Brüno is smarter than that, and it's a shame Brüno isn't.

Despite some genuine laughs, most of Brüno is too far off-base to recommend. As a Cohen fan, I recommend sticking with the fashionista in smaller doses on DVD.

Halloween (1978): The Drinking Game

2009-09-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

Nothing says "respectful outing of cinematic appreciation" like a drinking game. And NOTHING says "Halloween" like John Carpenter's Halloween, a true classic whose influence cannot be overstated. And, praise Samhain, October 31st is on a Saturday this year!

All the cards are in place. So, after my little vampire bat goes down (up?) for the night this Halloween, I'm looking forward to the following:

One Drink:
Every time you see a pumpkin.
Every time you see the Sanitarium station wagon.
Every time someone says "Totally!"
Every time someone says "Boogeyman".
Every time one of Laurie's friends make fun of her for seeing The Shape.

Two Drinks:
Every time you see a palm tree. (trivia time: the streets of "Haddonfield, IL" are actually located in Pasadena)
Every time you see another horror movie on TV.
Every time Laurie discounts Tommy for seeing the Boogeyman. (after what she's seen, girl should know better.)

Waterfall:
Every time Dr. Loomis goes off on Michael Myers, for as long as he continues ranting.

Kill It:
Every time Michael Myers tilts his head.
Every time Michael Myers plays dress-up.
Every time Michael Myers is unmasked. (Including the opening sequence - yes, I want you to start the movie with something in your system.)

If I survive the night he came home, I'm also considering a marathon of the entire series. Yes, even Part 6 (it has Paul Rudd in it!). YES, even Resurrection (it has Busta Rhymes in it!).

Avatar Is Not The Second Coming.

2009-08-21T18:56:00.001-07:00

The highly-secretive epic Avatar isn't coming out until December, but 20th Century Fox & James Cameron gave Christmas presents a little early this year. On August 21st, "Avatar Day", the Avatar trailer was released online, and 16 minutes of the film unspooled worldwide in IMAX 3D. In development for nearly fifteen years, Avatar is already a victim of its own hype, pegged as the greatest story ever told, and a game-changer in all respects.

But it'll be a miracle if it doesn't bomb.

Conservative estimates place Avatar's budget at $250 million. Combined with prints and advertising, the total budget could easily exceed $400 million. Even if Avatar is the highest-grossing film this year, it will remain in the red. It needs to meet or beat James Cameron's last film, Titanic, just to break even - and considering Titanic is the highest-grossing film of all time, that's a very scary thought.

True, Avatar shares Titanic's release date, and dutiful captain Cameron. But that's all. Titanic is the epitome of high concept: a forbidden romance set against one of history's most famous tragedies. Avatar is...well, there's some aliens, some alien monsters, and some people, I think they're at war. One of them seems to love another one of them. And they're blue! To quote the official Avatar site: "On the distant moon Pandora, a reluctant hero embarks on a journey of redemption and discovery as he leads a heroic battle to save a civilization". Huh? As if that weren't odd enough, Avatar also has to distinguish itself from the well-known cartoon "Avatar: The Last Airbender", which also has a forthcoming film adaptation.

Titanic also had incredible legs - remember the Italian teenager who saw it every day for over a month? - whereas Avatar's biggest push has been amongst the fanboy crowd, who tend to top-load opening weekends and then disappear. Much of Titanic's appeal came from Leonardo DiCaprio, fresh from teen hits Romeo + Juliet and The Basketball Diaries. Conversely, Avatar's lead, Sam Worthington, is a relative unknown, coming off of Terminator: Salvation, a film out of favor with both critics or crowds. This may be why some reports place Avatar Day events in half-full theaters.

Another reason for the sparse attendance is Cameron & Fox's technophilia clashing with accessibility. Too much attention has been placed on Avatar's state-of-the-art 3D filmmaking and IMAX 3D release. The answer to all criticism thus far has been "just wait 'til you see it in IMAX 3D!" But how many of these screens actually exist? Judging by box office receipts, not that many; the current IMAX 3D record, held by The Polar Express, is a mere $45 million (and this was over a period of 4 years). Regarding international markets, Dreamworks CEO & 3D cheerleader Jeffrey Katzenberg admits they are even "further behind" than the U.S. in 3D screen counts. Avatar's running time of over two-and-a-half hours further limits the number of screenings that can be held in a day.

This emphasis on Avatar as 3D theatrical event also severely handicaps the home market where, despite a battering in the last couple years, the majority of studio money is still made. Newsweek reported this week on 3D television prototypes, but the fact remains that there is currently no reliable method of delivering 3D on DVD. Ditto for broadcast rights, times ten (how would networks distribute the glasses?). All this furthers the pressure on Avatar to make back its colossal budget right now.

And did I mention the trailer sucks?

The Fourth Kind Trailer

2009-08-16T16:16:00.000-07:00

Mid-'90s television saw an explosion of "authentic" film/video footage of UFO's & aliens. Spurred by their smash hit X-Files, Fox had a field day with the "alien autopsy" TV special, while shows like "Sightings" and "Strange Universe" featured amateur cams of flying saucers & Alien Abduction: Incident in Lake County. A few years back, Alien Autopsy re-emerged as a British comedy, and now, amidst an American science fiction resurgence comes The Fourth Kind, an alien abduction thriller that weaves mockumentary footage of interviews with alien abductees into its story.

It's an interesting hook that makes for a great trailer. Check it out courtesy of Sci-Fi Wire:

Push (2009)

2009-03-19T16:58:00.000-07:00

Push is a truly great story universe trapped in a truly crap plot. It may seem odd to recommend a film while making that admission from the get-go, but considering the far-greater numbers of crap universes encompassing crap stories, Push is worthy of exhibition on these grounds alone. And others as well.

A black ops agency known as The Division has been tracking, employing & imprisoning psychics for decades. They have classified and deconstructed all manner of abilities and persons throughout the globe. For tracking, they use "Sniffers", human bloodhounds who can locate anyone, anywhere & anyone they've ever been with. For plotting, they use "Watchers", packs of premonitioners who know exactly what will happen, where & when. Other agents specialize in healing ("Stitchers"), telekinesis ("Movers"), wiping memories ("Wipers"), shielding objects & blocking other abilities ("Shadows").

Then there are "Pushers": the ultimate human weapon. Once they have you in eye-sight, they have complete control. They can implant false memories. Forego true ones. Force you to commit acts of violence against yourmself or others. Or just disappear.

What makes writer David Bourla's world so interesting, however, is not how clearly he defines these abilities, but how clearly these abilities define his characters. "Watcher" Cassie Holmes' (Dakota Fanning) central anxiety is that, while she can see the future, she lacks the means to express this information to others. "Sniffers" prove to be pure fetishists, up in arms over a fresh toothbrush. Low-level "Pushers" are free-wheeling playboys, but those within the throngs of The Division are so far-removed from humanity that nothing they say or do can ever be trusted.

In comparison, Push's story just isn't that interesting. Charting a troop of teen psychics in Hong Kong as they attempt to track down missing "Pusher" Kira (Camilla Belle), the only one of their peers to escape The Division and survive a miracle drug (which they also have to track down; don't worry, it gets messier). Aside from provoking a lame romance subplot with lead "Mover" Nick Gant(Chris Evans), the colorless Kira is entirely disengaging. To cover this, Bourla sautees in two opposing teams of villains: The Division, led cleanly, efficiently & spookily by Henry Carver (Djimon Hounsou), and a family of Chinese psychic gangsters (Orientalism at its finest: their main psychic power is to scream really loud and burst your eardrums). If the story had more to go on, it wouldn't be as easily overburdened, but you don't have to be a "Watcher" to see the twists & turns coming a mile off.

Yet, as sloppy as Push's story is, it remains an interesting low budget blockbuster. Director Paul McGuigan uses kinetic camera, swirling colors & eclectic style to cleverly disguise limitations and ratchet up the action. Hong Kong, cinema's quintessential un-American metropolis, becomes a truly alienating, scary place. Characters are so isolated they're rarely even shown in frame together. But when they are, it's a joy; Hounsou and Cliff Curtis are treats, and Fanning is able to balance tween snottiness with childish insecurity with her unlikely (and barely willing) protector Gant.

Don't pay full price. I didn't. But do check it out.

*** 1/2

My Bloody Events Calendar

2009-01-08T10:32:00.000-08:00

So, last month I posted a run-down of the film events in and around L.A. I promised to do it every week, and I have. Where is it? At culture blog LAist.

I'm very grateful for the opportunity, exposure & very proud to point you towards this week's column!

Now, as I continually look for ways to engage this blog, my film knowledge & have a bit of fun, let's talk My Bloody Valentine 3-D:

What's wrong with this picture? Not the remake (since that means the original is getting a re-release with its long-awaited deleted scenes attached). Not the 3D (if it can make Beowulf entertaining, it's one hell of a gimmick!).

It's the release date.

Why the hell is My Bloody Valentine, the perfect Valentine's Day counter-program (hint: some people, including those in happy relationships, get sick of watching Amelie every year), being released January 16th? I know Lionsgate hates horror films now, but you'd think the mega-successful Saw franchise has taught them to make a killing with seasonal/well-timed horror releases.

Considering January-February is an unofficial studio "dumping period", I doubt any film released now, including My Bloody Valentine, has legs to last through February. And it's a damn shame, as holiday-themed horror films are one of my favorite gimmicks & guiltiest pleasures.

This Week In Film (In L.A.): 12/15-12/21

2008-12-14T23:30:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season for Christmas films everywhere. The Aero & Egyptian Theatres sport traditional fare White Christmas & It's A Wonderful Life, while both branches of the Arclight host newer Christmas comedies Elf & A Christmas Story. But if you're sick of Santa, the New Beverly's got your back. Tuesday, the Grindhouse Film Festival hosts their annual holiday program, pairing proto-slasher Black Christmas with Silent Night Bloody Night (not to be confused with Silent Night Deadly Night or the forthcoming Silent Night Zombie Night). Saturday, Amoeba Music & New Beverly Midnights remind us how noel can be a nightmare with Jingle All The Way, starring our governor!

For the agnostic & apathetic, Monday brings an early no-Christmas-present: a preview of The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button with film critic Stephen Farber & special guests at the Wadsworth Theatre. If you find yourself with 4 and a half hours to kill, the full "road show" version of Stephen Soderbergh's Che runs through Thursday at The Landmark; see it now before distributors play Solomon & cut it down the middle. If you find yourself awake at noon on a Tuesday, LACMA has a matinee of John Sturges' classic Western The Law & Jack Wade.

Speaking of classics, the Hollywood legends are out in droves this week. Charlie Chaplin (Monsieur Verdoux), Laurel & Hardy (March Of The Wooden Soldiers), Jimmy Stewart (Bell, Book & Candle, The Shop Around The Corner) & Bruce Campbell (Army Of Darkness) all appear on screen this week. George Cukor's original version of The Women has a rare showing in town, and for the more daring, two of Canadian auteur Guy Maddin's unique silent-film, modern-sensibility dramedies play mid-week.

Full list & my picks appear below. See you at the movies!

Monday
$9.99 (2008) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement thru Thursday)
Animal House (1978) / Strange Brew (1983) (New Beverly Cinema)
Bell, Book & Candle (1958) (The Bay Theatre)
Che (2008) (The Landmark) (exclusive engagement thru Thursday)
The Conformist (1970) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button (2008) (Wadsworth Theatre) (Reel Talk preview w/ special guests)
Dragon Hunters (2008) (Laemmle's Grande 4-Plex) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Elf (2003) (Arclight Hollywood)
Hania (2007) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Monsieur Verdoux (1947) (Nuart Theatre) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Timecrimes (Los Crinocrimenes) (2007) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Were The World Mine (2008) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)

Where I'll Be:

The Conformist (1970) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Amidst all the seasonal chaos, Laemmle quietly celebrates their 70th birthday with a killer world cinema series at the Royal in West L.A. Tonight's film, Bernardo Bertolucci's The Conformist, is a nightmarish thriller that perfectly encapsulates the political upheaval, paranoia & cynicism of the decade.

Tuesday
$9.99 (2008) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement thru Thursday)
Black Christmas (1974) / Silent Night, Bloody Night (1974) (New Beverly Cinema)
Che (2008) (The Landmark) (exclusive engagement thru Thursday)
Dragon Hunters (2008) (Laemmle's Grande 4-Plex) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Elf (2003) (Arclight Sherman Oaks)
Fanny & Alexander (1982) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Hania (2007) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Helvetica (2007) (Aero Theatre)
The Law & Jack Wade (1958) (LACMA) (matinee)
Monsieur Verdoux (1947) (Nuart Theatre) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Timecrimes (Los Crinocrimenes) (2007) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Were The World Mine (2008) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)

Where I'll Be:

Black Christmas (1974) / Silent Night, Bloody Night (1974) (New Beverly Cinema)
I'm an unabashed grindhouse fan, but it helps when the film's a stone-cold classic. Black Christmas along with Halloween, laid the groundwork and displayed the true suspenseful, gory potential of the much-maligned slasher flick. Silent Night, Bloody Night offers even more reasons why answering the phone when you're all alone in a big, spooky house just isn't a good idea.

Wednesday
$9.99 (2008) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement thru Thursday)
Auntie Mame (1958) (The Egyptian Theatre)
Bell, Book & Candle (1958) (The Bay Theatre)
Che (2008) (The Landmark) (exclusive engagement thru Thursday)
A Christmas Story (1983) (Aero Theatre)
Dragon Hunters (2008) (Laemmle's Grande 4-Plex) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Hania (2007) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Monsieur Verdoux (1947) (Nuart Theatre) (limited engagement through Thursday)
My Winnipeg (2007) / The Saddest Music In The World (2003) (New Beverly Cinema)
Timecrimes (Los Crinocrimenes) (2007) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Were The World Mine (2008) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Women On The Nerve Of A Nervous Breakdown (1988) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)

Where I'll Be:

Che (2008) (The Landmark)
In the golden days of yore, epics like Laurence of Arabia & Gone With The Wind toured the country as road shows. Masses flocked, knowing it would be their only chance to see such a spectacle in its entirety. Then, home video & decreased attention spans came and obliterated these events. They don't make 'em or show 'em like this any more, and unless 4 hour Spanish-language films become trendy, they likely won't ever again.

Thursday
$9.99 (2008) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement)
Che (2008) (The Landmark) (exclusive engagement)
Dragon Hunters (2008) (Laemmle's Grande 4-Plex) (limited engagement)
Fiddler On The Roof (1971) (The Egyptian Theatre)
Hania (2007) (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Monsieur Verdoux (1947) (Nuart Theatre) (limited engagement through Thursday)
My Winnipeg (2007) / The Saddest Music In The World (2003) (New Beverly Cinema) (New Beverly Cinema)
Timecrimes (Los Crinocrimenes) (2007) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)
Were The World Mine (2008) (Laemmle's Sunset 5) (limited engagement through Thursday)
White Christmas (1954) (Aero Theatre)
Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)

Where I'll Be:

Timecrimes (Los Crinocrimenes) (2007) (Laemmle's Sunset 5)
I love time-travel films, but there's always something missing. Primer doesn't have any comprehensible dialogue. Back To The Future doesn't have any murder. Donnie Darko doesn't have any likable characters. Spanish techno-thriller Timecrimes promises all this and, according to the advance press, it delivers.

Friday
Army Of Darkness (1992) (midnight movie) (Regency Fairfax)
The Class (2008) (exclusive engagement) (The Landmark)
Cult Cinema Club: TBA Japanese Horror (The Egyptian Theatre)
The Killing (1956) / Paths Of Glory (1957) (New Beverly Cinema)
March Of The Wooden Soldiers (1934) (Old Time Music Hall)
My Name Is Bruce (2007) (w/ special guest Bruce Campbell!) (Nuart Theatre)
The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) (Aero Theatre)
Pink Floyd: The Wall (1982) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Remains Of The Day (1993) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
The Shop Around The Corner (1940) (The Egyptian Theatre)
Tommy (1975) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Trainspotting (1996) (The Bay Theatre)

Where I'll Be:

My Name Is Bruce (2007) (w/ special guest Bruce Campbell!) (Nuart Theatre)
Anyone who's read Bruce Campbell's autobiography If Chins Could Kill or seen any of his movies knows the man has mastered the arts of self-deprecation, quick-wit & slapstick. In My Name Is Bruce, Bruce Campbell utilizes all in the role he was born to play: Bruce Campbell, a jerk, who must rise to the task and become Bruce Campbell, b-movie star. Because there's an evil Chinese spirit running around Oregonian backwoods beheading everyone. Confused? Maybe Bruce Campbell can explain it to you - he's hosting a Q&A on all things Bruce Campbell after the film.

And in case that isn't enough Bruce Campbell for you, you can catch a midnight showing of Army Of Darkness at the Regency Fairfax right afterward.

Saturday
The Abyss (1989) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Aliens (1986) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Fiddler On The Roof (1971) (Aero Theatre)
Jingle All The Way (1996) (midnight show) (New Beverly Cinema)
The Killing (1956) / Paths Of Glory (1957) (New Beverly Cinema)
March Of The Wooden Soldiers (1934) (Old Time Music Hall)
My Name Is Bruce (2007) (w/ special guest Bruce Campbell!) (Nuart Theatre)
Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) (midnight show) (Nuart Theatre)
Scrooge (1970) (free screening) (The Egyptian Theatre)
The Man Who Came To Dinner (1942) / Holiday Affair (1949) (The Egyptian Theatre)
Titanic (1997) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)

Where I'll Be:

Fiddler On The Roof (1971) (Aero Theatre)
As much as I'd love to check out The Royal's 70mm series screenings of The Abyss & Aliens, my sister's in town for Chanukah, and Fiddler's the only Chanukah-esque movie I know of. If anyone can recommend a better Chanukah flick, I'm all ears (but if you say Eight Crazy Nights, I'm defriending you).

Sunday
A Christmas Story (1983) (Arclight Sherman Oaks)
Gremlins (1984) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade (1989) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
March Of The Wooden Soldiers (1934) (Old Time Music Hall)
My Name Is Bruce (2007) (w/ special guest Bruce Campbell!) (Nuart Theatre)
Top Gun (1986) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
Total Recall (1990) / Starship Troopers (1997) (New Beverly Cinema)
Trainspotting (1996) (The Bay Theatre)
The Untouchables (1987) (Laemmle's Royal Theatre)
White Christmas (1954) (The Egyptian Theatre)
The Women (1939) (Starlight Studio)

Where I'll Be:

Total Recall (1990) / Starship Troopers (1997) (New Beverly Cinema)
Everyone loves to jump on Showgirls, but truth is Paul Verhoeven has an incredible talent for sneaking subversive satire in-between mutants & explosions. While these films are no Robocop, nay-sayers should be ready for a surprise.

That's this week in film. Love it or Netflix it.

American Graffiti (1973, dir. George Lucas)

2008-12-09T19:38:00.001-08:00

Many follow the phrase "George Lucas" with "raped my childhood". These hyperbolic folk never consider George Lucas' take on his own youth, American Graffiti. Opening at dusk on a Mel's Diner & closing at dawn on a speeding T-bird, the film is an unabashed love letter to the summer of '62. The rock was loud, the cars were louder, and a group of friends follow dreams & chase tail for one more night, college changes their country & their lives forever.

Whereas THX-1138 & the Star Wars films center on science fiction spectacle and paper-thin soldiers of good & evil, American Graffiti is entirely character-driven. What's even more interesting is how Lucas subverts the expected high-school archetype. Cutest couple Steve Bolander & Laurie Henderson (Lil' Ronny Howard & Cindy Williams) quarrel over sex & long-distance relationships, squeaky-clean Curtis Henderson (Richard Dreyfuss) takes up with motorcycle gang The Pharaohs, and somehow ladies' man John Milner (Paul Le Mat) ended up escorting somebody's 12-year old sister all night. This unexpected dynamism plucks them from mere caricature; their wild night feels as real as any small-town tall-tale my Dad would reminisce with his buddies over a brew. Change the date, switch the soundtrack & it could be me & my friends.

Or could it? Much like those hazy memories, American Graffiti is planted too firmly in the past. You can crack a few smiles, but you can't truly enjoy it if you haven't lived it. Most films set over one day (or night) close with some unforgettable concert or party, satisfying both the youngster checking his watch & the oldster never wanting to leave. American Graffiti ends with such an event (a climactic car race turned crash), but something about it just doesn't feel right. Maybe it's because the scene is alienated, blindly leaping from hip-happening main street to silent backroads. Maybe it's because it teases consequence but doesn't deliver, with several persons walking away from a flaming, flying wreck without a scratch. Or maybe it's because, when that was the last time you saw that old screwball Toad give one of his glassy-eyed guffaws before he went off and got killed in 'Nam, you just had to be there.

Religulous (2008, dir. Larry Charles)

2008-10-05T17:20:00.000-07:00

I'm unfamiliar with satirist Bill Maher's work (save the magnum opus Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death), but I can think of few topics more politically incorrect than organized religion. It gets a free pass from logical debate, despite lore of space-men, resurrections & man-eating whales. It gets a free pass from political inspection, despite embracing "holy" wars and fiery annihilation. And it gets plenty of free passes from its followers, who spend untold billions on paraphernalia, films & even theme parks.

But it isn't getting a free pass from Bill Maher. His new documentary Religulous takes dead aim at organized religion, interviewing preachers, practitioners & PR men. He concludes that religion is hallucinogenic, manic & just plain silly – oh, and it controls just about every aspect of your life, believer or not.

Some may cry foul at Religulous' most sensational subjects – a Creationist museum with humans riding dinosaurs, Israeli inventors using gadgets to cheat the Sabbath, a “million-dollar messiah” who preaches indulgence over brimstone. Maher balances these absurdities out with fair-minded religious scientists, only to find they can't answer his questions either. He presents those questions, running the gamut from “Why are there no contemporary accounts of Jesus?” to “Why is faith good?”, in straightforward face-to-face interviews. He simply asks, often just states a story he takes issue with, and bites his tongue, no matter how outrageous the response.

Maher receives some interesting challenges, but most subjects stumble & fumble, with hilarious results. Of course, Religulous amplifies these flubs with below the Bible belt subtitles and cut-aways, but many of these are redirected towards Maher himself as self-deprecating funnyman. The film also includes many shots of director Larry Charles and camera-crew, undermining the omnipresence typical of documentaries. These techniques bring Religulous past the realm of just mocking the faithful, and emphasize Maher's personal mantra of "I don’t know".

Yet, Religulous doesn't get a free pass either. The film's organization is mish-mash, with humor abruptly giving way to grave newsclips & impassioned pleas for agnostic activism. There's little coherence or connection between interview subjects, and a number of groups are left out – to name a few: Eastern religions, Zionists, New Age cults. Maher can't cover it all or get it all right his first go-round, but Religulous claims there are millions of agnostics in America, more than there are blacks, Jews, and NRA members. Since these groups hold well-established niches in Americana, Religulous is a welcome introduction and groundwork for future agnostic cinema & culture.

Burn After Reading (2008, dirs. Joel & Ethan Coen)

2008-09-23T19:43:00.000-07:00

The Burn After Reading poster overflows with information, intertwined chaotically with (appropriately) flaming colors, guns & shadowy fiigures. It's beautiful, if slightly incomprehensible. This description also applies to the mechanisms of the film's screwy characters and screwier story. Everyone “knows” everything, yet everyone knows nothing, and that combination makes for one of the Coen Brothers' darkest comedies – and with a resume that regularly plumbs the depths of murder, kidnappings & seedy underbellies, that’s saying something.

I say this because, unlike quintuplets, prison gangs, layman detectives & hell, the information theft at the core of Burn After Reading is very real. The title's play on words refers to a dilemma central to the digital age: how do you keep secrets when computer contents are copied and distributed within seconds, your life story conveyed from database to person to person to database to person within the span of a few phone calls?

Lest you think this is some sexy techno-thriller where a voice-of-god hacker flings cars, helicopters & explosions at unsuspecting innocents*, remember that the Coen Brothers' trademark has always been lovable, quotable dolts, and here they do not disappoint. Convinced a "selective surgery" is her ticket out of dead-end internet relationships, personal trailer Linda Litzke (Coen favorite Frances McDormand) sees plenty of 1's & 0's when she discovers a CD-R full of state secrets. Unfortunately, the only one she can trust with it is Chad Feldheimer (Brad Pitt), a perky personal trainer whose idea of suiting up involves ear-buds & a bike. The CD-R contains the memoir of Osborne Cox (John Malkovich), an alcoholic ex-CIA Agent with a series of F-bombs and a serious axe to grind.

But Cox isn't the only Fed mixed up in this. Low-level Treasurer, high-level smarmerer Harry Pfarrer (George Clooney) charms the pants off every woman in sight (including those in the audience), but it's Cox's CIA superiors that steal the show. J.K. Simmons continues his awesomeness streak with hilariously blunt assessments of the increasingly entangled situation. He doesn't know what the hell is going on either, but with nothing on the line it sure is fun to watch.

And I concur.

* That's Eagle Eye, which I’ve got lined up later in the week, if the space-time-money continuum allows.

Free Film: Confessions of a Superhero

2008-08-14T09:40:00.001-07:00

The most promising element of new media is the free distribution of documentaries. Produced on small budgets, as labors of love, it isn't important that these pieces make money; rather that they find new eyes to open towards their quirky characters and introduce to new ideas and actions.

By now, everyone knows that the Star is Born Hollywood dream is as dated as Victory Bonds - and yet, every year fresh faces and film students come seeking overnight success with twinkles in their eyes and, sadly, failure on the horizon. Confessions of a Superhero tracks a group of performers who have carved a unique niche for themselves (yes, that's unique even by Hollywood standards). And through this Snag Films widget (and courtesy of some commercials), it's entirely free. My review follows (actually written a few months back, didn't realize I'd never posted it), and if my adding additional HTML mucked up the widget, the film is also available here.
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I used to pop corn at the El Capitan, and working on Hollywood Boulevard entails a special relationship with the costumed characters outside Grauman’s Chinese Theatre (we even hired one as our Jack Sparrow). A “hey Hulk”, “sup Spiderman”, and “what it do, winged devil thing” (seriously, what is that guy?) is all it takes to get comfortable with them, but I never had the chutzpah to talk to them long enough to satisfy my curiosity: where do they come from? Where do they go? Why do they dress like superheroes?

Matt Ogens shares this curiosity, and lucky for us, he brought along a camera. His documentary Confessions of a Superhero (available on DVD), is somewhat scattershot in its narrative focus, but invaluable in its portraits of some of the Boulevard's most famous costumers, Christopher Dennis, Maxwell Allen, Jennifer Gerht, and Joseph McQueen.

Names don’t ring a bell? Jennifer averages $100-$300 a day in “tips” taking pictures as Wonder Woman. But she’s new; you probably haven’t heard of her. Christopher’s played Superman for well over a decade – he’s even got a booth at the autograph show, next to Lassie’s great-grandchild! No? Well, you have to have seen the news footage of Maxwell stripping out of his Bat-suit to battle labor protestors and cops! Really? Hmm. Joseph played a small part in the comedy Finishing the Game in-between blackouts from his 130-degree Hulk suit; I think it played the Nuart for a week.

OK, so these performers aren’t out there for fame and fortune. While an industry credit may be their career goal, it’s really a devotion to their comic book inspirations that drives them through elaborate preparations and miserable working conditions. Christopher’s apartment is a shrine to the Man of Steel, packed wall-to-wall with thousands of dollars worth of action figures, photographs, and memorabilia. Maxwell gives Bruce Wayne a run for his money in the dark and brooding department, prone to fits of rage from a life of beatings and mob work. He even wears his costume to therapy.

These interviews are interspersed with beautiful still shots of these and other characters in and out of costume from Director of Photography Charlie Gruet. He manages to make the Boulevard pop even more, transforming it into a vibrant carnival of capes and masks. When drawing in tourists, photos, and tips, these performers truly glow. Most of the time, however, their routine lacks such spark, reflected in the mundane apartments, empty warehouses, and grimy street corners they return to after their daily grind. Ultimately, Confessions reveals that, no matter how colorful your character, a job on the Boulevard’s a job like any other: ain’t nothing but work.

I'm Just Not Used To A Screening In The Middle Of The Night With Killer Robots!

2008-08-05T18:00:00.001-07:00

Ed's Note: Another column rejected by LAist. 2 for 2 - oh well. Would have posted this when I wrote it a week and a half ago, but I went on vacation.

If you're a Rocky Horror fanatic, you can do the Time Warp every weekend at the Nuart. If you'd rather throw spoons around The Room, there are regular events at Laemmle's Sunset. If you love The Big Lebowski, Hedwig And The Angry Inch, or any number of recognized cult classics, you're sure to find a theatrical screening every couple of months. If, however, you're enamored with Chopping Mall, a robo-slasher so obscure the DVD is mastered from a 20-year old videocassette, you’ll have to stay at home and cry, because 35mm materials don't exist. Or so I thought.

Phil Blankenship & The New Beverly Cinema prove me wrong and send me into cardiac arrest by featuring my all-time favorite film as one of their Midnight Movie programs. I’ve probably seen Chopping Mall more times than the original cast and crew by this point, but on the big screen? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event! So I skip Comic Con, cut short a friend's birthday, and even consider ditching my girlfriend at the Vermont / Beverly Red Line to make it on time (don't worry, I would have saved her a seat).

Upon arrival, I join a theater chock full of Chop-a-holics. I'm beyond ecstatic, but wonder if the crowd will laugh with or at this opus. Admittedly, this fear is not unfounded; Chopping Mall is a cheese-fest to the core, with a bunch of teens holed up in the Sherman Oaks Galleria, their sexual appetites and clunky one-liners their only defense against a cybernetic squadron with lasers set to kill.

Luckily, The New Beverly attracts only genuine fans, who eat up every minute. They recognize Chopping Mall as the Citizen Kane of robo-slashers. Sexploitation grinder Jim Wynorski commands cult favorites Kelli Maroney (Night of the Comet), Barbara Crampton (Re-Animator), Dick Miller (Gremlins and a million others) and Mary Woronov (Death Race 2000), and complements them with a brisk pace, ridiculous plot points, and sly digs at a now-lost mall culture.

As if that weren't enough, the director and leading lady also appear for an audience Q&A. Each is as cynical and sexy as ever, respectively; Jim Wynorski shares the secret to getting free Chopping Mall t-shirts from eBay bootleggers (hint: cease-and-desist), and Kelli Maroney offers choice anecdotes from the set of Fast Times at Ridgemont High. The New Beverly also throws in a choice ‘80s trailer reel of past Midnight Movie Slumber Party Massacre, future Midnight Movie The Gate (August 23rd), Mind Warp (Sid Haig, Robert Englund, and so much gore you could plotz), and The Wraith (punks vs. ghost cars, do I need to say more?).

And it’s only $7. I pay more for parking at The Arclight.
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The New Beverly's Midnight Movie schedule is available at: http://www.myspace.com/newbeverlymidnights and http://www.newbevcinema.com/

Chopping Mall is available on DVD through Lions Gate Entertainment.

Hellboy 2: Truly "Golden"

2008-07-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

(NOTE: Quick genesis. I started writing this column last week in preparation for a preview showing. Then missed said preview, sat on it a few days, paid to see it, and cut it down for culture blog LAist. They didn't run it, so here it is. Sorry if it reads a few days "dated".)

Hellboy has a hell of a time with release dates. In 2004, Sony locked the demonic anti-hero's horns against Jesus Christ himself (on Easter Sunday, no less). Now Universal goes and opens Hellboy II: The Golden Army between two equally prodigal sons: box office king Will Smith, and already-blockbuster The Dark Knight. And it isn't even in 3D!

But early reports have Big Red prevailing (at least for this weekend), and this is because Universal understands what made the original such a success. The Golden Army boasts every major player of the original team, with a bigger budget to boot. Writer/director Guillermo del Toro's biggest strength continues to be his aptness for grafting the fantastic to the realistic. Del Toro blurs the distinction between each element, playing evenly to their individual strengths. The result is a dreamscape as logical as it is awe-inspiring; it's as sensible to gasp at Hellboy's grotesque appearance as it is to empathize with him for trying to "fit in" amongst the general public.

As skilled as Guillermo del Toro is, Hellboy's success does not lie with him alone (after all, who remembers Mimic?). Character actors Ron Perlman and Doug Jones breathe life and one-liners into superhumans Hellboy and Abe Sabien beneath mounds of make-up; Hellboy bounces around like a pinball, and empathetic gillman Abe has a more meaningful presence than the original film. The Golden Army brings the duo a paranormal playmate: Johann Krauss, a controlling spirit sporting a thick robotic suit and a thicker accent. The Golden Army's increased effects budget also shines through an onslaught of fantastic creatures; instead of squaring off against primarily humanoid villains, Hellboy and his team battle ravenous tooth fairies, Wink, an ape-like creature with a mace for a hand, and the Golden Army themselves, clockwork Golems rendered beautifully through stop motion and CGI. Particularly amazing is a sequence set in The Troll Market, an exotic realm packed to the brim with beasts recalling Star Wars' Mos Eisley Cantina in its sheer, weird wonder.

As in the original Hellboy, the human supporting cannot compete with their "freak" counterparts, but they roll with every punch the uncanny universe throws at them. Their primary defense is snappy exchange; Selma Blair's Liz Sherman and Jeffrey Tambor's Tom Manning remind his need for restraint; humanity needs him, even loves him, but above all fears him and his power. This conflict is set up for full realization in future sequels, of which there are so many setups & teases it isn't a question of if they will make another sequel, but how many more will they make.

Let's hope Universal stays smart and keeps the team together. Oh, and let's also hope The Hobbit doesn't keep Guillermo Del Toro too busy.

Want.

2008-05-14T14:38:00.000-07:00

From /Film.

Too bad I don't have a UK shipping address. I'm sure some English entrepeneur will find a way to get it to us Yanks (at triple the price) soon.

Haut Ist Mein Tag!

2008-03-29T12:06:00.000-07:00

Wow, so working on Saturday isn't as fun as I thought it would be. I have to park in visitor's parking because the underground garage isn't open (wonder if I got a ticket, hmm), the mail isn't here yet (which would be fine except I've been here for hours and all I was supposed to do was sort the mail), I don't know how to open the safe, and everytime I enter or leave the office, I set off the alarms.

Sure, all of these would be easily remedied were I more attentive and less retarded, but hey - what are the chances of that happening? Besides, if such were the case, I never would've uncovered this doozy, courtesy of the Motherland:

Yes, that's a Nazi screwball comedy. A few years ago my friend Jasmine and I proposed a similarly tasteless short called Holocaust Hits & Misses, in the style of one of those shitty EP-speed sports blooper tapes you used to find in drug store dollar bins. Unfortunately, school got in the way.

They don't know how lucky they are, back in the ex-U.S.S.R.!

More fun with Nazism, courtesy of YTMND:

* The Power of Russia + The Power of Christ. Truly compelling.
* Who knew backwards-messaging could be so useful to heathens as well as Xtian Zealots?
* I could write a paper on the intelligent intertextuality here. At least I could've back in college.
* The One That Started It All.

I know in internet-land those are all a million years old. But I don't care - I'm so behind I didn't even know YTMND had parallel universes. Plus I'll probably be fired for posting this from work anyway.

Hey - mail time!

Girls Rock!

2008-03-16T11:12:00.000-07:00

Women are over half the world's population, but you'd never know it by the world of rock. For every dozen Pussycat Dolls, there's only one Le Tigre. For all the hundreds of pole-dancers prancing about in the background of hard-rock stage shows, Angela Gossow stands alone at the front of the band. Millions of girls still worship Britney Spears, but how many have even heard of Sleater-Kinney?

This would be just a question of poor taste, if it didn't breed a girl culture of mixed messages and mutilation. Girls as young as 8 feel body anxiety and the need to diet, and it only takes them another year to learn to stick their fingers down their throat. Taught to be quiet, apologetic, and question their every move, girls have no method of expression, let alone defense against an assault of increasingly effective, invasive media.

For the past 7 years, the Girls Rock Camp in Portland has been teaching empowerment through rocking, rolling, and kicking out some serious jams. Girls Rock! is a fittingly rocking musical documentary charting several girls' experiences at a season of the camp, from awkward first meetings with an instrument to even more awkward first meetings with each other to a triumphant band showcase barely a week later. Palace is the youngest, but she's already had to deal with divorce, a disabled brother, and growing up around her mother's fashion boutique. Next is Am (aka Amelia), whose natural talents for lyric absurdity and noise solos mask how she already feels left out amongst her peers. Laura, from Oklahoma by way of Korea, loves death metal and putting a smile on others' faces, but can't keep one on her own following accusations of "twinkiness" and her white boyfriend spending hours with his band taking credit for her compositions and suggestions. The oldest of the girls, Misty, hasn't even graduated high school, but has already survived drug-addicted parents, crime, and a revolving door of group homes and homelessness. Even now, her band tries to oust her due to stupid semantics over the band name.

First time documentarians Arne Johnson and Shane King craft a story that engages, but occasionally loses its feet. With enough to juggle already between the camp's musical content and its emotional core, why bring the kids' parents into the mix? If the goal is to have girls express themselves and their motivations through music, why not let them do it in the film as well? And as central as facts about body image and representation are to that core goal, lush animated illustrations of those facts distract compared to simple, stark presentations (Girls Rock! has both); the latter allows a springboard back into the girls' stories, whereas the former overwhelms them (and with girls this bad-ass, that's a hell of an achievement!).

But these are minor quibbles compared to the genuine respect Johnson and King have for the camp and its goals. Each of the aforementioned facts is checked and sourced in the credits, as is an extensive list of the camp's musician counselors, their bands, the campers, and their music. The camp is truly profound, and Johnson and King want you to learn as much as you can, and present the camp's programs and their opportunities in manners accessible to both potential campers and parents. Even film fans outside of those groups will find themselves pumping fists and throwing up horns. Why? Because these girls rock and rule!

As an extra bonus, here's Laura's blog from the Girls Rock! website, displaying her trademark good spirit, awesomeness, and best of all, ability to school you in metal.

Here's a performance from Am:

(dig that solo at the end!)

More Favorite Films of 2007

2008-03-13T21:51:00.000-07:00

Say what you will about Grindhouse (I did), but the true surprise of last year's drive-in throwbacks was Black Snake Moan. I mean, check out that poster:

Come on - white slavery? "Everything is hotter down South"? It doesn't get any more exploitive than that! Yet, in even more tried and true exploitation style, the poster provides way more sizzle than the film, which is actually a sorta serious Southern-fried drama of repression, abuse, and redemption.

A fitting tribute to the blues, Black Snake Moan is bookended by stock footage of the legendary Son House, and features a few killer numbers by Samuel Jackson, a washed-up farmer and guitarist who respects the word of the Lord, but don't let it push him around. Christina Ricci plays the poor white trash archetype a little too well, and while he borders on chewing the scenery, Justin Timberlake is a believable cuckold whose anxiety's kept him both from advancing himself and redeeming himself via the army.

While the actual story is stretched a bit awkwardly - particularly around the end, which feels a bit too happy (then again, this ain't the Delta, it's a movie, and they tend to end that way), Black Snake Moan is an intriguing slice of God, grime, and collared greens courtesy of Oscar-winner (OK, it was the song, but dammit, it's hard out here for an IMP [Independent Movie Producer...wow, I'm a nerd]) Craig Brewer, who I just found out is a white guy! Unbelievable!

My Favorite Films of 2007

2008-02-26T12:42:00.000-08:00

So, New Year's came and went. The Oscars too. And here we are in what...March? I could care less. I haven't seen anywhere near what I wanted to see from 2007, but from what I did see, here are two of my favorites that I feel haven't received their proper due.

Last year was one of the best years for American film in some time. And while two high-profile bloody affairs would sweep the awards and critical press, my favorite drama remains largely loved on blogs, and largely ignored by everyone else.

I'm talking, of course, about the amazing documentary King of Kong. Detailing a saga of good, evil, and a 25-year old arcade machine, King of Kong exposes a bold world of old games, and the fistfuls of fanatics in dead heat for high scores. As a geek with a soft-spot for certain sprites myself, I was concerned over whether or not the filmmakers would dignify these untraditional competitors. The good news is that they do. The better news is that I really had no time to ponder the question, as I was swept up in the struggle of Steve Wiebe & Billy Mitchell.

The two could not be more opposite. Wiebe is a clean-cut family man, desperate to win back self-pride after a Silicon Valley layoff. Mitchell is a mulleted magnate, world-record-holder since the '80s, willing to hold it at any cost. Wiebe chalks up a machine in his garage to determine precise reflexes and algorithms. Mitchell, while also talented, depends more on his lasting influence and shady connections to play mind games.

I saw a screening through AFI at the Arclight, and guest Wiebe was met with a standing ovation. When's the last time you saw a documentary pull a reaction like that?

Fun Fact: The movie and its director rile Billy Mitchell so much that to this day, orders for his hot sauces are banned to numbers bearing a 310 area code.

Most science fiction gets so wrapped up in science and scale that it loses sight of emotional connections. That's why Danny Boyle and Alex Garland's Sunshine is one of the most ingeniously intense space dramas ever burned to light. Like countless epics, the fate of the world is at stake, but unlike those epics, we genuinely care about a small team of 21st-century Sisyphans charged against the infinite abyss of deep space. Video logs, bad decisions, technical failure, and the abyss breed genuine heartbreak for the astronauts, whose hopeless situation can't even be assuaged by real-time communications with their superiors and loved ones back on Earth. Tight performances and framing produce, ironically, a sense of claustrophobia, and while the final act takes a frustrating turn towards near-divine figures, pseudo-babble, and violent nonsense, the rest is so good that it overwhelms these shortcomings.

I also realized I take this thing too damn seriously. It's a fucking blog, not Harper's. So, expect more relaxed postings with pretty pictures and what have you. Or another long drought because I'm lazy as shit.

Guilty Pleasures: The Asylum

2007-12-05T12:56:00.000-08:00

I've always loved the gall of The Asylum's "tie-in" films. Whether you want to call these direct-to-video mockbusters parodies or straight rip-offs, you can't deny the eye-catching titles and ridiculous poster art of Transmorphers, The Da Vinci Treasure, and their most recent productions, I Am Omega and Alien vs. Hunter.

As a quick appendix, Asylum has released a Cloverfield cash-in and most amusingly, a 2012-themed disaster film that actually beats Hollywood to the punch.

Does this make the cash-ins closer to the cultural pulse? Or are they just lucky?

Juno (2007, dir. Jason Reitman)

2007-12-02T16:46:00.000-08:00

I originally saw and wrote this review a few weeks ago after a preview screening, but sat on it because I don't want to get banned from those things over fifteen minutes of cyber-glorious-critical-espionage. In short, Juno fails to deliver. I can't decide if I was more hyped up by the casting, the Diablo Cody buzz, or my own maiseophilia. In length...

Cody definitely has talent. She finds interesting ways to introduce her characters, and invests enough into them that even those who only pop in for one scene (Rainn Wilson's store clerk or Valerie Tian's cute-as-a-button protestor) are memorable. But God, her dialogue is awful! It suffers from that indie film trapping where every line has to be more quirky and quotable than the last. While that's great for t-shirt slogans (Fox Searchlight already had "Paulie Bleeker is Totally Boss" at the screening, and I'm sure many more will follow), when every line is trying too hard to one-up its own coolness it really derails a scene.

Surprisingly, Cody's strongest characters aren't her pregnant protagonist (Ellen Page) or either of her high school friends, but hopeful adoptive parents Vanessa and Mark Loring (Jannifer Garner and Jason Bateman). Garner transforms Mrs. Loring from a creepy Stepford wife into a quietly sympathetic character, and Bateman displays real
finesse through Mr. Loring's efforts to translate the frustrations of his seemingly-perfect life into cynical teen. Juno's father, Mac (J.K. Simmons), and her stepmother, Bren (Allison Janney), share the same delicate balance of devotion towards Juno and disapproval of her.

With such rich supporting characters, it's too bad that Juno herself is just an obnoxious list of hip stereotypes. Her only growth is in the tummy (and even that's a prosthetic), and she never expresses any real desire or motivation for anything. It doesn't help that Page's performance is pretty flat save one or two big moments. Normally I'd be ok with this and just relish in the rest of the cast, except for the small fact that the entire film hinges on her performance and character.

Juno's definitely an indie crowd pleaser, but in satisfying that audience, it forgets little things like cohesion and consistency. A quick example is the major musical motif, The Moldy Peaches' "Anything Else But You". While this sits great on a mix-tape betwixt Peter, Bjorn, & John and Stars, there's no reason why Juno, whose favorite bands are '70s hard-rockers Iggy & The Stooges and The Runaways, would give the dopey acoustic number the time of day, even if it was for Michael Cera (whose sweet awkwardness continues to be irresistible). It's strictly for the street cred, and I just wish that same effort to maintain that interest had been put into the rest of the story.

Ironically, Juno's nickname in the film is "Junebug", and the constant mentioning of that really made me want to see that film instead.

Darfur Now (2007, dir. Ted Braun)

2007-11-05T16:46:00.000-08:00

For once, I'm pleased to report that a film's advertising campaign is misleading. When viewing the star-studded trailer for Darfur Now, I was concerned over its emphasis on Don Cheadle, George Clooney, and student activist Adam Sterling's interactions with Governor Schwarzenegger. While I respect and appreciate celebrity activism (as I appreciate any such devotion), I do fear that their celebrity status overshadows their actions and the issues. Cheadle himself echoes these statements, declaring it "embarrassing" that a delegation of himself and Clooney have been the highest-profile ambassadors to Sudan's international trading partners. Although Darfur Now is imbalanced towards international bureaucratic efforts, it doesn't embarrass itself with celebrity fawning. Instead, the documentary's favored subject is Luis Moreno-Ocampo, an Argentinian prosecutor for the International Criminal Court preparing a case against Sudanese minister Ahmad Muhammad Harun and Janjaweed militia leader Ali Kushayb for war crimes.

Moreno-Ocampo's investigation is motivated by his experience as a young man in Argentina's military junta of the 1970's and 80's. There, thousands of his friends and countrymen disappeared, but, after great perseverance, his team was able to try and convict members of the junta for crimes against humanity. His struggle to bring the same justice to Darfur is made monumental by his outsider status. It is unsafe for aid workers, let alone himself or his men, to enter the country, and as such most of his leads consist of long-distance aerial photographs and second-hand reports from aid workers and refugees. This evidence reveals sickening displays of Janjaweed militia burning villages to the ground, fortified by Sudanese armaments and approved by Sudanese officials. Yet the Sudanese government, represented through UN ambassador Abdalmahmood Abdalhaleem Mohamad, refuses to recognize secondary evidence or hand over any officials, arguing that the events in Darfur are distorted by the Western media.

Moreno-Ocampo's character is as complex as his investigation. In one memorable scene, he asks an aide to help him practice his English for a UN report, even though the speech, like all in the UN, will later be re-interpreted. Afterwards, amidst criticism that he is taking too long in his investigation, he encounters Mohamad and shakes his hand, recognizing that even his greatest discreditor is but one part of a murderous system, which can only be dismantled in whole, rather than parts. The only weapon that powerful is diplomacy, an impossible balance of expediency, accuracy, and integrity. Moreno-Ocampo realizes this as the audience does, and his recognition of that struggle and constant re-evaluation of his investigation provides the greatest emotional connection of the film.

Amongst the Sudanese segments, the strongest personality belongs to rebel Hijewa Adam. Like Moreno-Ocampo, she struggles between her disgust with continuing the violence that has ripped her country apart, and her desire to avenge her fallen countrymen, her raped countrywomen, and her murdered son. Though she has never met Moreno-Ocampo, she shares his belief in due process and bureaucratic justice. What she lacks is his success, and his hope for internal resolution; she knows that her government will only listen to gunfire or international "white people", whose condemnations and remote actions speak in ways her people cannot.

Unfortunately, neither of the other two Sudanese subjects (a village sheik admitting refugees and an NGO worker co-ordinating shipments of food) are given the time to develop their stories and actions (it is here I suggest complementing the film with Emergency in Darfur, the International Medical Corps. documentary which focuses almost entirely on the national relief effort). The real Sudanese star is the landscape itself, and eye-popping images portray a macabre beauty, as horrifying in its brutality as it is exquisite in its color. By the film's end it becomes a visual encapsulation of the subjects' struggle: even amongst insurmountable tragedy, there remains hope. There remains humanity.

New Bob Dylan

2007-10-07T09:58:00.000-07:00

I know, which "new Bob Dylan", right? Electric new? Christian new? Any of the other reimaginings the man's put himself through over the years?

How about we call this phase post-Dylan? As in, this new song/video is a remix of older material, produced to promote what looks like another remastering/back catalogue box-set (although a Love-esque project would be damned interesting). I'm sure Dylan and his people had some sort of final approval, yet little to no direct involvement (he doesn't even appear in the video). And many of those who will see the video on YouTube and the like will have little to no experience with the original song. You can count me in that boat - I took a course on Dylan in college (sort of), yet I can't place the original (yes, I know that means I've never heard Blonde on Blonde).

So, this means I can't bitch about what was and wasn't changed, but I can say that something feels a little off. The backing by funk band The Dap-Kings is excellent, and the video has a similar retro feel courtesy of its bright colors, high energy, and grainy stock, but it's an awkward mash-up; it's technically proficient but doesn't feel quite right. Why would a depressing ballad sound so upbeat?

But check it out for yourself if you haven't already, and if the player below doesn't work, here's the YouTube link again.

Alive, it's alive!

2007-07-29T19:31:00.000-07:00

Sup. We all know how well my promises of regular updates end up going, but I'm trying to make the weekends, particularly Sunday, chill out days. And blogging's better than cleaning my room, eh?

No reviews for y'all, at least nothing organized. Last film I saw was Equinox. Think I'd be the only one interested in that anyway, but if you love b-movies, you should check it out. It's got more than a fair amount of obvious padding (it was made on a budget of $6000), but it's got some brilliant matte painting, fun stop-motion, and other effects shots from Dennis Muren, who would go on to become a bona-fide SFX master for ILM. And how can you fault any film that opens with an explosion?

Anyway, let's talk about something I rarely do - me. I been on blog blackout for a while because I moved down south to the L.A.-zy (ok, I'll stop). After a month of slaving for the mouse on Hollywood Blvd., I finally picked up a real job for MAZON, a non-profit in Santa Monica which collects grants and donations from the Jewish community and redistributes them to anti-hunger campaigns, organizations, and food banks both domestically and internationally. I can actually pay my rent, my car, and buy food! Maybe I'll even get to chip away at my credit card bills!

I've got to commute the 405 every Monday-Friday, which means I gotta wake up before 6AM every Monday-Friday, which means I only get to go out on weekends. But so far, so good, and with a little extra cash and an awesome car, I've actually had a lot of fun just driving around and exploring.

Ah, but what of film, what of writing? On the latter, I've done a bit of work here and there. Last week, I did some freelance transcription work for the bio-fuel documentary Fields of Fuel. Doubt I'll make the credits, but I met director/activist Josh Tickell, who was a real great guy, and learned quite a bit about refineries, toxic waste, and the shady history of automotives, oil, and alternative transportation (tends to happen when you watch an hour of footage for five!).

I also e-mailed and called Nirvan Mullick, who I first came in contact with when I set up a fundraising event for his ground-breaking, collaborative, non-profit, one second IMAX film. They're getting ready to gear up their next phase of fundraising/promotion, a road trip across the country where they hope to meet and pitch Oprah Winfrey. For a bit of background, all funds for the film have been raised by selling producer credits for as little as $1 or as much as $500+. Celebrities like Christina Ricci, Steve Buscemi, Kevin Bacon, Stephen Colbert, and most recently Keifer Sutherland have all gotten in on the act. Andy Dick and Tom Green even got in a little prank war over the order of their credits.

Ah, but stop selling and get to the point, man! In a fun bit of crossover (and weirder degree of separation thing, apparently Nirvan and Josh went to college together...who knew?), their road trip is in an old school bus converted to a bio-diesel rock van. Step one is tearing out the seats and stripping the Los Angeles County School District lettering/paint. Basically, every school boy's fantasy. So I'll probably be doing that this weekend as well.

And no, I don't count working at a theater in Hollywood as working in the industry. Even if half my co-workers were actors, and the other half were Scientologists.

As for writing? Yea, not much. My housemates and I are working on a sitcom not-at-all-loosely modeled on us, but I haven't peeked at my scripts in ages. I even unpacked them and strew them around the floor so I'd have to look at them. Instead, I sit in the living room and read Fables and Raymond Chandler.

Why can't I do what I've spent the last few years preparing for, including moving? Why can't I do what I love - writing - for that which I love - the movies? Am I expecting too much of myself, after all, it hasn't even been three months, and only a year since I graduated.

And more importantly, when did I get so god damned emo? Pathetic! Anyway, toodles.

Bootlegs R Dead

2007-04-23T12:35:00.000-07:00

Let's forget film for a second. Because that's about how long bootlegs were supposed to last. Every bit as disposable as the pop songs they lampooned and glorified, they caught on, and much to the dismay of many originators, created a life and sub-culture of their own.

Australian producer Luke Collison, aka Dsico, was amongst the first outside of England to become popular "Love Will Freak Us" (Missy Elliot vs. Joy Division). He was also the first to distance himself from bootlegs, declaring in his blog, song titles, and continued degeneration of source material that it was all over before it even began. It's an interesting aural firecracker, as compelling as it is off-putting, and this schizophrenia is so obvious when revisiting his debut "album" that I feel the need to point it out, lest somebody miss it looking too hard for a deeper meaning.

Dsico definitely had a knack. The aforementioned "Love Will Freak Us" is as perfectly sad, romantic, and yet danceable as it was in 2003, and I can't listen to "Highway to the Club" (not included on this compilation; if memory serves, it was actually Dsico's last bootleg) without wishing AC/DC weren't such punk-asses for sitting on their remix potential. It's entirely synthetic, but even more magical pop: this isn't how the individual components are "supposed" to sound, yet it sounds so right. Electronic's devious "Getting Away With It" transforms Britney Spears' "...Baby One More Time" into a desperate, orgasmic plea for relevance (made even more pathetic given her life since). "Don't Need You Tonight" and "Groove's A Bitch" anthemize the '90s super-rave I fantasized about collecting dance records and staying up late listening to underground dance radio, a beautiful false memory of a huge, sexy party where everybody has a great time, everybody keeps control, and nothing is awkward (of course, maybe this just says something about my club experiences ;)).

But when Dsico goes bad, it's completely wretched. His irony is too hip, and it's painfully obvious that he's over it before he's even begun. He can't even keep up with his own cool. "Just Mix Fucking Anything" is unlistenable because it invalidates itself: clearly you can't, because otherwise the track would work. Other mixes feel embryonic, sounding fine for a verse or two, only to become abridged or aborted into glitch pop (which Dsico dabbled in even more on subsequent release I'm Not Retarded and the aptly titled Ministry of Shit compilation). There's potential out the ears, but absolutely no application. One can imagine Dsico's feelings at releasing it without tweaks or improvements: it's shit, made from shit music, that nobody will care about in a month anyway. It's a frustrating self-fulfillment, particularly since it's been many months, yet the mixes still limp along in eternal digital sideshow, long abandoned by their cruel creator.

But when he felt like it, Dsico was damned good. Too bad he rarely did.

Grindhouse (2007, dirs. Robert Rodriguez, Robert Zombie, Edgar Wright, Eli Roth, & Quentin Tarantino)

2007-04-18T10:53:00.000-07:00

Grindhouse was designed not so much as a film, but an over-blown, nonsensical, pure entertainment experience. Modeled after the bizarre double-features fondly remembered/imagined from '60s and '70s drive-ins and scuzzy urban theatres, Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino each contribute an episode to the exploitation super-program, bookended by trailers for faux "coming attractions". With both directors' careers based on elements borrowed from these "genres", an acknowledged tribute is long overdue. But can it compete with the real deal?

Audiences say no. As of today, the film's take is a paltry $20M, which, on a budget of $53M confirmed and $100M+ rumored, has distributor Harvey Weinstein rightfully flipping his wig, and analysts and 'net nerds scratching their heads. I have to wonder why anyone expected otherwise. Despite their modern mythology, grindhouses remain the bottom of the cinematic barrel, and anyone who pretends otherwise is a fool. While plenty of groundbreaking directors and truly unique films made it out of that barrel, most grindhouse fodder was quickly, cheaply, and terribly produced to squeeze as many pennies out of as many poor saps before ditching town (and I say this as a life-long exploitation fan!). The only reason it worked at all was because it was cheap - $50M could literally bankroll the entire back catalogue of Roger Corman, Michael & Roberta Findlay, David F. Friedman, Lee Frost, Jerry Gross, Lloyd Kaufman, Herschell Gordon Lewis, Andy Milligan, Harry Novak, Joe Sarno, Doris Wishman, etc. etc. et al. The cheaper a film is cranked out, the less the producer/booker needs to worry about regulations, broad appeal, or quality, because it can make a couple thousand a night off a hot-button issue or a niche audience and stay in the black. Grindhouse just doesn't fit this production mode, and can never be as financially successful as its namesake.

But hey, I'm a pretentious film scholar, not a pretentious film financier, so what do I know? I know how it plays. In short, it's a mixed bag, and in true exploitation fashion, the sum of some parts is much greater than its whole. Its structure is segmentation, with liberal blankout screens and leaders between, which is interesting because the double-features I've seen attempt the opposite, a seamless whole. To honor this format, my thoughts attempt the same. So, without further ado...

Machete (dir. Robert Rodriguez): It's been many a moon since I've seen From Dusk Til Dawn, but Danny Trejo needs star status pronto! Like '70s icons Richard Roundtree and Pam Grier, Trejo takes no sass and kicks some ass (btw, I can't believe this guy's older than my dad), but it's ultimately his charisma that makes him memorable. Rodriguez confirms this will be the first Grindhouse sequel/spin-off, and my advice for him is such: please ditch the motorcycle jump shot. That bothers me every time I see it, as it indicates your biggest problem as a director. Your over-reliance on hyperrealistic digital effects works great for unrealistic and fantastic films like Sin City or Spy Kids, but in a "raw" reality-based project like this, it just looks bad. Also, add as much Cheech Marin as humanly possible.

Planet Terror (dir. Robert Rodriguez): Splatter and 'splosions. That's all I was expecting from Rodriguez' feature offering, and that's about all I got. This neatly illustrates what I dislike about Rodriguez; his films pull no punches, delivering blow after blow of cool until you're completely knocked out. And then you realize you've got over an hour left, and that's all he's got. To his credit, Rodriguez doesn't blow his load early, and maintains his frantic pace and undead overkill throughout. To his discredit, he's so outrageous straight out the gate that he can't top himself. The insane becomes sane, then normal, then banal. At it's best, it's an '80s zombie/gore film - there's that one outrageous moment that sounds great on paper, and then there's the rest of the movie you have to sit through to get to it.

Which is really a shame, because Rodriguez is working with a damned fine cast here. The image of Rose Mchine-gun-for-a-leGowan is a silly gimmick, but McGowan brings finesse to her character's struggle with sudden amputee status, such that the gun-leg becomes not only logical, but a proud climax. As good as McGowan is, screen beau Freddy Rodriguez (no relation to Robert) is even better, balancing sensitivity with bad-assery to bring that rarest of creatures, a well-rounded action hero.

Now if only Rodriguez can kick his castration obsession. With multiple castrations, various genital diseases, and a guy who carries around a jar full of testicles, shit creeps me out. And not in a good way.

Werewolves of the SS (dir. Rob Zombie): I really wanted to like this, and amidst rumors of a 30-minute short-film version existing, I hope I'll like it eventually, but there just aren't enough werewolves! The Nazi cabaret is splendid (did I just say that?), with an eerie glamor, and a surprise cameo brings the house down, but really...how many moons I gotta bark at for a decent Nazi werewolf film?

Don't (dir. Edgar Wright): The most spot-on, and the most unique of the entire Grindhouse program, Don't works because it pays tribute to the trailer. The exploitation of it all. The haughty American distributors who cut European films to ribbons, then slash the trailers even more by cutting out all accented dialogue and slapping on a title that doesn't make a damn bit of sense. And bless them for it. Wright not only shows his knowledge of this practice, but subverts it for the most out-and-out hilarious moments of the entire program. It really makes me wish I'd gone out and seen Hot Fuzz.

Thanksgiving (dir. Eli Roth): Eli Roth's best work yet. I kid you not. For all the jerking off the horror community gives him, he's never balanced his horror and his humor, coming out with a series of frustrating, kinda scary, rarely funny, mostly stupid films. Here he gets it. He makes the most authentic-looking trailer of the bunch: completely washed out, following the slasher formula to a T, with every cliche imaginable, yet pushing the envelope further than any old school slasher. God damn it Eli, why can't your features be half as good as this? I'd even take a quarter as good, really. Download it here, courtesy of IGN.

Death Proof (dir. Quentin Tarantino): Grindhouse's grand finale comes courtesy of the man single-handedly responsible for making exploitation "cool" again, Quentin Tarantino. Yet, Death Proof isn't "cool". At least not like his other films. Death Proof has characters that matter beyond how much ass they kick. It's got gore galore, but restrained, and spread out further than Jungle Julia's legs. It's got Tarantino dialogue - man, does it have Tarantino dialogue.

It's also the only film in the program to really, truly embody "classic exploitation". By which I mean it's slow, almost inconsequential if you aren't paying real close attention or drunk as hell - then it hits hard. All the low-budget, time-filling chatter vanishes, replaced by pure, visceral impact. Unfortunately, rather than build and continue off that horrifying moment, Tarantino abruptly and unexpectedly reboots his own film - and here's where the problems start. It's the second introductions and the second cast where the formula becomes too apparent, and things start to drag. When the action returns, it's more spectacular, but less impactful. It just doesn't gel, and lacks the charm and sympathy of the first act.

The one crossover between the acts, and the strongest human element in the piece (because let's face it, nobody can outshine a hot muscle car), is Kurt Russell's Stunt Man Mike. Immensely powerful and immensely pitiful, Mike undergoes a full character arc, which would be interesting in any film, but amazing in an exploitation film, where macho villains (and even heroes) are stock. Not unlike the films Grindhouse pays tribute to, Mike is the product of a bygone era: creaky, maybe a little charming, but mostly uncalled-for. He's supposed to be the oldtimer crying in his beer in the background, unable to keep up with cell phones, media conglomerates, increased police power, and fancy cars. Yet his vintage threads and souped-up vehicle exist outside of time, overcoming and overrunning (or is it running over?) the new, the vibrant, the young. This is what makes him "death proof", and this is what makes him threatening.

Lest I get too pretentious for a throwaway tribute to throwaway films, I'm going to end things with this summary: Grindhouse has a lot of great moments. Moments worth discussing, moments worth fast-forwarding to. It's great fun to watch, particularly with friends and varying degrees of intoxication. But it's not a great tribute, and it's not a great film.

The Host (2006, dir. Joon-ho Bong)

2007-03-19T22:55:00.000-07:00

Since Godzilla revolutionized the kaiju (giant monster) film in 1954, a barrage of beasties, including turtles, insects, statues, and even traffic lights, have followed in his wake. While many of these films are fun, few are classics, and even fewer can be taken seriously. The problem is one of innovation; while surely inspired by the success of films like The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms and King Kong, Godzilla dared to be different, challenging mores and engaging in human drama alongside city crushing. Conversely, most of its imitators' stories only differed in whether or not they skewed towards children. Finally, a slimy, mutated, heap of something has picked up The Big G's torch, and while it may be a little big for its britches, The Host's ambitions overpower its flaws.

Standard kaiju procedure calls for monstrous mayhem to be reserved for the climax. The Host throws this logic out the window, plowing through its effects budget (and a truckload of Korean bystanders) right out the gate. It's a mighty fine rampage, skillfully animated by San Francisco-based The Orphanage, but it's really just an establishing sequence, a small piece introducing the larger story. That's right, The Host revolutionizes the genre by daring to focus on elements other than giant monsters.

The film's true focus is on the Park family, displaced by the attack. Father Hee-Bong and dim-witted son Gang-Du operate and live in a small concessions stand on the Han River with Gang-Du's young daughter Hyun-Seo. Youngest son Nam-Il is a recent college graduate who struggles to maintain his wits through unemployment and alcoholism. All live vicariously through sister Nam-Joo, a national archer who, despite her medals and honors, can't quite go for the gold. In the panic surrounding the creature's attack and military presence, Gang-Du grabs the wrong child, watching helplessly as the creature dives away, Hyun-Seo in tow. Held against their will in a military hospital, the family escapes, with only a small amount of bribe money and their talents to find Hyun-Seo (and the creature's lair) amidst threats of arrest from military troops and annihilation from toxic super-weapon "Agent Yellow".

As refreshing as this tonal and focal shift is, it's also difficult to adjust to. Years of rubber suits and schlock stock characters lead me to read the above-mentioned scene as comedic. It's only when the scene doesn't cut away, Gang-Du continues crying, and the family keeps falling apart that I realize the graveness of my mistake and the film's drama. Adding to the confusion is a pitch-black subplot satirizing military quarantine and destruction (think Dr. Strangelove meets Outbreak) that's as hilarious as it is chilling in its abuse of power over the media and the tactics it uses against the "fugitive" Parks. Whereas even the most serious monster movie has winks, nudges, and catchphrases, The Host is completely stone-faced, and it's difficult to divine when and where it's safe to engage upon first viewing.

Don't let that scare you; if The Host doesn't gel all the time, its multiple facets function far above and beyond its contemporaries and competition. Each family member is developed and maintained evenly. The story is engrossing, never slackens its pace, and is genuinely unpredictable. The creature is disgusting, frightening, and entirely unsympathetic. Unlike the countless kaiju where you just skip ahead to the next monster attack, here the monster attacks are some of the least satisfying moments, as they serve as reminder of tragedies and adversities in the face of a corrupt government that not only fails to stop them, but blames you for struggling.

Beyond a true kaiju classic, The Host is what every blockbuster (if not every film) aspires to be: dramatic, comic, sad, terrifying, and hopeful. Whether that's too hefty a plate for such a "silly" genre is up to the viewer's prejudice, but, remember this: The Host isn't silly, and it can be stomached. It's tasty too!

Early Oscar Observations

2007-02-25T18:20:00.000-08:00

I really like how Eddie Murphy kept mentioning The Adventures of Pluto Nash in his pre-show segments.

But on a similar note, it's ridiculous they kept bringing up how many nominations Dreamgirls received, seeing as how 3 of them are in the same category (Best Original Song). I mean, it's great that Dreamgirls has at least three good songs on it, but I should really hope so, seeing as it's a musical!

Even though it's probably the best film I saw last year, I hope Pan's Labyrinth doesn't sweep (I hate sweeps, even of stuff I like). As impressive as The Faun and The Pale Man are, I feel that for sheer scale and scope, Apocalypto should have picked up the statue.

Also, I'm only half-watching, but Ellen's not a very funny host. Her bit with Scorsese was cute, but on the whole...meh. The Will Ferrell/Jack Black/John C. Reilly song on the other hand - hilarious. And the interpretive dances are pretty cool, too.

Saturday Night Special: The Number 23

2007-02-25T17:04:00.000-08:00

Despite a number of critically lauded serious (or at least, darkly comic) performances, it’s difficult to shake the image of Jim Carrey, goofball. The Number 23, Joel Schumacher’s latest film, challenges that archetype by casting him as Walter Sparrow, a mild-mannered husband turned obsessive lunatic. It’s not unlike Robin Williams’ ballyhooed "dark" trifecta a few years back, but the more interesting change of face here is actually Schumacher’s.

There are two Joel Schumachers: one, beloved for taut thrillers (The Client, Phone Booth), the other criticized for painstaking over-stylization (Phantom of the Opera, the Batman films). The Number 23 cleaves its story to unite the two Schumachers; the “real world” of Sparrow and his growing paranoia over the novel The Number 23, is restrained, whereas the metafictional novel-within-the-film is a sexy, violent hardboiled script. It all works beautifully, with the noir fantasy seducing Sparrow while offering uncomfortable parallels to his happy, but bland life. Unfortunately, the noir segments end around the midpoint of the film, and their stylization spills over into the Sparrow narrative, bogging it down with excess and ridiculous plot twists.

Carrey is adept at playing a madman, but the story never allows him to become truly unhinged. Just when it’s suggested that Sparrow could actually be a nasty villain, the film lays on thick saccharine and forced morality play as unnecessary as it is tacky. Carrey takes these turns in stride, but it ends up backfiring as later scenes become unintentionally comic. Other performances from Virginia Madsen, Logan Lerman, and Danny Huston are adequate but unextraordinary; the most interesting supporting player proves to be Mark Pellegrino, in a role not far removed from his work in Capote.

It’s a shame The Number 23 isn’t more balanced, as the first hour is brisk, and genuinely thrilling. Unfortunately, the last third derails things so badly that one wishes they would’ve just played it by numbers.

So...Should I See It? At the very least check out the noir sequences, but it's no rush at all. Wait for DVD, or even TV.

I'd Like To Watch, Volume 1 of ∞

2007-02-15T17:24:00.000-08:00

It's funny, as someone whose only aspiration in life (right now) is to be a writer, I sure hate doing it. Instead of working on a piece for the forthcoming anthology Machine of Death, or re-editing/writing/polishing my old screenplay Mamacita for Gypsy Lar Productions' GLBT screenwriting competition, or even updating this thing daily (thousands of others in the blogosphere have no problem doing it), I'm dicking around on the old internet again, researching things that, by the time I can afford to enjoy them (money-wise or time-wise), I'll have long forgotten about. But hey, they're usually film-related in some capacity, so maybe I'll use this to bridge the gap between not-writing and writing.

Minutes ago, I learned of Warner's recent DVD release of Tony Richardson's The Lonelinss Of The Long Distance Runner. I first encountered this film as a clip in my "International Cinema: 1960-Present" course, and I haven't forgotten it. Like many films of the period (at least, that we saw clips of - another I can recall is Saturday Night And Sunday Morning), it tackles social issues from a gritty, realistic, but subdued stance. Compared to Blackboard Jungle, an American film of roughly the same era tackling similar subject matter, the American film is much more sensationalistic, highlighting the confrontation between student and authority, whereas the British film (from the clip I saw), is more introspective, focusing on an internal rather than external struggle. Unfortunately, since I couldn't even find time to do my own course reading, I was unable to make the hike down to the library to see the rest. Now I can finally rectify that (well, once I reactivate my Netflix account). Huzzah for Warner!

Imprint (2006, dir. Takashi Miike)

2006-11-23T19:38:00.000-08:00

There's something about the word "banned" that instantly piques interest. It starts with perverse curiosity - "what could be that bad?" - that, when combined with lack of access (since banned stuff is, well, banned), steamrolls into a mythic offensiveness or awesomeness (depending on which side of the coin you lie on). This is particularly true of the cult/horror film, where restriction of any sort is such a badge of honor that even the least daring film can be successfully repackaged simply by slapping "uncut" on the cover.

Of course, Takashi Miike could never be accused of this latter deception. The most well known cinematic provocateur of the last decade, selections from his ridiculously prolific filmography include fetishism, incest, rape, torture, murder, necrophilia, nihilism, and the apocalypse. In terms of extremity, Imprint, banned from American cable, stands amongst his finest works, with a cringe-worthy, extended torture set-piece, and the additional squeam-button of abortion. In terms of everything else, however, it falls flatter than a pancake.

Miike may be best-loved by the gorehounds, but beneath the shock lies an intelligent social commentary. His most famous film, Audition, excrutiates gender inequalities, loneliness, and despair. The V-Cinema work Visitor Q uses its ultra-low-budget and taboo subject matter to deconstruct the modern family. Imprint references (arguably rips off) these and many other prior Miike works, but lacks their subtexts; skipping about from depravity to depravity, it's a spotfest designed strictly for the audience that's only interested in "fucked up Japanese shit".

Yet, even this audience may be disappointed with Imprint. For starters, it isn't even shot in Japanese, which quickly becomes a problem since the majority of the cast and crew (including Miike himself) don't speak the language. The narrative structure is also awkward, with the same story being told, retold, and altered a la Rashômon or Wonderland. Yet unlike these films, which use different narrators to show how different the "same" story can be, Imprint features the same narrator throughout, which is frustrating because its repeated "all right, now here's what really happened" framing feels like padded chain-jerking. Finally, there is the film's climactic "shocker", which, for all its gravity, is best described as Kung Pow meets The Grudge.

I've yet to take an interest in or watch another episode of the "Masters of Horror" series that commissioned this project, but if general consensus is that this is one of the better episodes of the series, well...it'll take a lot of convincing for me to check out the rest of the lot.

Another Sacha Baron Cohen Film? Ach Ja!

2006-11-02T21:54:00.000-08:00

From The Daily Mail:

Hollywood film company Universal is offering £22 million for the worldwide rights to the film Bruno, based on a flamboyant gay Austrian fashion reporter.

I'm very excited for this, as Brüno is my favorite "Da Ali G Show" correspondent. He appears the least of the three, but he receives the strongest reactions - most interview subjects catch on that Ali G's a clown, and they pity Borat, the furreigner who simply doesn't know any better. But Brüno? He's gay, and that's gross! He's been met several times with violent threats, and, given how antics must be upped for the big screen, I can almost guarantee black eyes and gerbils abound (in their most hilarious incarnations, of course).

But that isn't all there is to like about Brüno. If I can throw on my thinking cap for a moment, Brüno's correspondence cuts deeper than that of Ali G and Borat because he reveals the ridiculous double-standards of masculinity. I'm thinking in particular of the Spring Break at Daytona Beach segment. Groups of young men freely and frequently engage in homoerotic activities like drinking, wrestling, and bunking with each other, but when one of these men (Brüno) identifies as gay, it suddenly threatens the homosocial dynamic and the group's collective "straightness". Uhh, hello? You both enjoy rolling around with men, so what's the problem?

The only qualm I have about a Brüno film is that, unlike Ali G and Borat, he doesn't seem to have any backstory or dimensionality. While I haven't seen Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan yet, I believe it has a scripted plot in-between interview segments, and Ali G: Indahouse is entirely scripted. Obviously, this requires you to care about the character between outrageous interviews, especially since most viewers won't be watching for gender studies. Borat will be a good marker on this (assuming, of course, you can actually see it), as the Brüno film will likely follow a similar format, and Borat's also a pretty shallow character.

If nothing else, it'll have a great soundtrack.

Silver Surfer vs. Dracula #1: Where Soars the Silver Surfer!

2006-10-19T17:16:00.000-07:00

The cosmic battles the undead...and both have seen better days. Easily the least satisfying of Marvel's vs. Dracula series, "Where Soars the Silver Surfer" promises a bad-ass crossover, and instead comes up short.

Oh, and I mean that literally. Unlike the previous two vs. Dracula comics, which reprinted stand-alone stories/annuals, "Where Soars the Silver Surfer" originally appeared in November 1976's Tomb of Dracula #50, and is but a sliver of a larger story arc. In less than 20 pages, there's the Surfer, there's Blade, there's some occult conspiracy, and I guess Dracula knocked up a chick, but none of it makes any damn sense out of context. From what I can gather, an ancient Satanic cult was using Dracula for something (probably that "plan" he kept alluding to in the Spiderman and X-Men stories), but now they'd rather use his soon-to-be-born-son (although I can't see why, as he'd be half-human...why not just use Blade?). Having worked closely with Dracula for centuries, they realize he ain't easy pickin's, but have a plan - apparently there's this other immensely powerful near-immortal, "a being as filled with righteousness as Dracula is with evilness".

OK, it's more than a little confusing, but at least it should be a great battle. The Silver Surfer isn't as fragile as the mutant-but-mortal X-Men and Spiderman, so Dracula gets a chance to really cut loose. Unfortunately, the writing goes out of its way to dull both super-beings. The cult's magical manipulation of the Silver Surfer seems a little too easy; if they had this much power, why couldn't they destroy Dracula in their own right? Or is Silver Surfer's mind just that weak? Who knows? More frustrating than the Surfer's mental weakness is a physical handicap; throughout the whole story, he's surfing at a snail's pace and missing shots left and right.

So, the Surfer sucks, but he can still take vampiric punishment, right? Again, who knows? Inexplicably, Dracula is even more restrained than in his clashes with mortals, playing melodramatic victim when his lover/womb is almost struck with a stray cosmic blast, and mustache-twirling heavy when he merely slaps the Surfer around in the ensuing battle. Given that the future of his bloodline are at stake, you'd think he'd take the Surfer a bit more seriously. Worst of all, despite the Silver Surfer's lameness thrown in the reader's face with every line from both him and Drac, neither of them actually gets a clue as to the cult's manipulation, let alone any sort of retribution (though it's probable this comes in a later issue of Tomb of Dracula...see the problem with packaging one chapter as an entire book?). A lame-duck exchange between the Surfer and Dracula's lover/womb, "Where Soars the Silver Surfer" ends with a bitter anti-climax, leaving one wondering why they even bothered. But still - so much potential!

Because the cover-story is so short, Silver Surfer vs. Dracula is supplemented by not one, not two, but three bonus shorts from the Marvel Vaults. The first, "The Box of Doom", is from Venus, a pre-code female detective series. It's an interesting twist on the Pandora's Box archetype, and it's a little funny to compare the ultra-realistic (and of course, hyper-attractive) body type of Venus to the bestial, ratlike delivery-boy/vampire. Guess comics always know their audience, eh? The second, "Brother Vampire", posits an interesting dilemma: what if your conjoined twin brother were a vampire? Could you stand by and watch him kill, each and every night? And...wait, why aren't you a vampire as well?

Last, but certainly not least (in fact, it's most), is "Hellcow!", reprinted from Giant Sized Man-Thing #5. One of these days I'll have to pick up a Howard the Duck retrospective, because I've heard things, and damn it if this isn't an entertaining spoof of the vampire mythos. Both campy and sympathetic, the titular Hellcow is Bessie, a cow once bitten by a blood-sucker (and we ain't talkin' no fake-ass Chupacabra) three centuries ago, who currently roams the night seeking vengeance. With her massive size, transformative/flying abilities, and horns, she'd probably have a better chance than your average vampire hunter (take that, Rachel Van Helsing!). Unfortunately, being a cow, she's more than a few steps behind, and, being a vampire, she needs to feed on humans. Howard gets mixed in with all this as he tries to prove his usefulness to the police by uncovering the culprit in a series of "mystery farm deaths". The editorial claims the hellish heifer is close to the 3500 Letter Limit, a practice which establishes fan demand for reappearances, series, and one-offs. Whether such a code actually exists is beyond me, but you know I'll be hitting up the mailbox tonight.

And yes, I'll try and hit up this blog more often as well. But you know, I have been working. And had a cold. And yes, I'm aware that's a lame-duck exchange and a bitter anticlimax.

Spiderman vs. Dracula #1: Ship of Fiends

2006-10-09T14:38:00.000-07:00

The first thing you'll notice about Spiderman vs. Dracula compared to X-Men vs. Dracula is its stunning cover art. I mean, damn. Scroll back up and look at that thing again - the Dracula design blends the suave, sexy vampire-type with the ratty, demonic Nosferatu-type. Spiderman's hot on his trail, but ultimately just-too-late to save the day, and a majestic darkness begins to envelop him as well. I'm blown away, and we haven't even cracked open the issue yet.

Originally published in July 1974's Giant-Size Spiderman #1 (sporting some pretty sweet cover art of its own), "Ship of Fiends" opens with Spiderman pursuing a tall, dark stranger. His non-adhesive body resists Spidey's webbing, and his apparent control over ice enables him to slip away. But it isn't The Count, and it isn't even Spiderman's top priority. A flu epidemic has swept the city, and the virus strain, resistant to all vaccines, has put Aunt May on her deathbed. Determined to save her, Peter Parker seeks out eccentric Dr. A.J. Maxfield, sailing in with a new vaccine, New York's only hope. But Parker isn't the only one after Maxfield - mafioso Anthony "The Whisperer" Cavelli wants to ransom the doctor, and a certain blood-sucking shape-shifter has his own designs which require the vaccine be kept out of commission.

A classic triangular adventure narrative, "Ship of Fiends" maximizes action with a brisk narrative that cuts between several plotlines as each of these characters struggles for Dr. Maxfield. And it's a hell of a struggle - by setting the story on a closed-ship, each point on the triangle is repeatedly forced into combat with the other. Bullets, webbing, and bats fly, and suspicious personnel and a raging costume party don't make things any easier.

Dracula's primary method of attack remains mind control, but unlike in X-Men vs. Dracula, its victims are red-shirt goons, rather than established (and thus, immortal) heroes, and its effects are much more chilling. Spidey has his hands full, but true to form, never misses a beat (or snappy comeback), springing and swinging about the outside of the boat and the steel catacombs beneath the hull. The story only takes one misstep, and that's at the very end; the gist of the politically correct '70s twist is appreciated, but its sudden execution renders the clashes preceding it pointless.

At only 30 pages, "Ship of Fiends" is just short enough not to fill the issue on its own. Spiderman vs. Dracula also includes two reprints from Astonishing Tales and Uncanny Tales. In form and style, these pre-Code Atlas shorts follow the EC-mold of a bit of suspense, a bit of horror, and a requisite twist that modern readers can see coming a mile away. Of these, I preferred the first, "Vampire at the Window", due to its incorporation of hard-boiled detective style/archetypes, but neither is exceptional.

X-Men vs. Dracula #1: Blood Feud

2006-10-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

One of the advantages of staying at my parent's house is I have access to all my old comic books. So, I figure I'd reboot with Marvel's ...vs. Dracula comics. A "mini-series" of one-off reprints, these were inexplicably released in Winter '93/'94, rather than the obvious Halloween cash-in. Obviously, the comics share the Dracula mythos and characters, but I can't figure out if they're supposed to share continuity with each other, Marvel's Tomb of Dracula series (which, somewhat ironically, I've never read), or what have you.

The first in this series, X-Men vs. Dracula, details the Mutants' second encounter with the Prince of Darkness. First round, Storm emerged worst for wear - drained of blood and forced into Dracula's servitude (or so I gather; so much for X-Men being a metaphor for Civil Rights & emancipation, eh?). The only reason she hasn't gone all Blacula for the last thirty years is that she ate a bunch of garlic ice-cream, and Dracula agreed to release her from his hold. Until now. Note to Storm: next time, get it in writing.

Seems The Count needs a living, fleshy-type host to break into the Van Helsing stronghold and retrieve an ancient text. Storm agrees to help him on the condition that he let her go, for real this time. But Kitty Pryde ain't havin' that. Possessed by anger over her parent's divorce (and maybe something else), she and Colossus head to Merry Olde England to stick a stake in Storm. And everywhere that Kitty went, the X were sure to go.

Kitty Pryde's always seemed pretty useless to me, so it's refreshing to see her as a lead. And a good lead at that; she's got an engrossing, plausible emotional arc surrounding her parents' divorce, and how this isolation causes her to distrust her X-mother figure Storm (X-father Xavier is also conspicuously absent for this story...psychoanalytical subtext, anyone?). Speaking of Storm, while it'd be all-too-easy to write her as a helpless pawn of the devilish vamp, she plays a pawn of surprising depth, confronting her own psychological dilemmas of claustrophobia, and the loss of her own parents throughout her resistance to Dracula's grasp.

That's not to say that X-Men vs. Dracula doesn't have a fair amount of action as well. While the schlocky tagline "Mutants Versus Monsters" is never realized (sadly, Wolverine never uses his claws as an adamantium crucifix), the plot allows for each of the X-Men to use their powers for at least a good jab. Outnumbered and overpowered, Dracula's primary method of counter-attack is through manipulation and hallucination, so the majority of the confrontations are actually Mutant Versus Mutant. Not that I'd ever complain about Wolverine taking out Cyclops.

Really, my only beef with this issue is its clunky cover art. The blue-shaded Dracula is especially awkward; what is he, Colossus' dad?