Bill is way behind on his so-called "reviews" that no one reads anyway

Rapid-fire capsule review time gooooooooooooo:

Choke: Deleted scenes are usually deleted for a good reason, but there's an ending they cut that, frankly, should be in this film. It's another Chuck Palahniuk work, with the poor man's Edward Norton (Sam Rockwell) in it instead of the rich man's Edward Norton (Edward Norton) this time. However, it's pretty fun, and worth watching. I mean, it's a movie about a sex addict who works at a colonial-themed park and may or may not be the clone of Jesus, so...

Dawn of the Dead: I didn't go see Watchmen, but I did watch this directorial debut from Zack Snyder. Yeah, the remake with Ving Rhames and stuff. It wasn't bad... but, you know, it wasn't anything special. If you like your zombies to move a little faster, this is the one for you, I guess.

Dead & Breakfast: Two Carradines for the price of one in this (David and Ever), as well as Kendra from Buffy (also in Supergator, see below) and Tony Perkins' son. And some other mildly famous people who never really found that stardom they so craved. Also, Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Where was I? Right. It's a horror spoof, of sorts, only it's not really funny, and what is there owes a lot to Evil Dead and Dead Alive (there are blatant references, even, such as the Evil Dead poster hanging in the room where the Comedian finds a chainsaw). And it's got some musical narration, which is interesting. If you like campy B-horror and you've got an hour and a half to kill, you could do worse. Much worse. Trust me. Violent fun! I guess.

Dilbert season one: The strip used to be absolute gold every day, and this cartoon spinoff that aired on UPN that no one watched was equally clever and hilarious. Daniel Stern is the perfect beleaguered Dilbert and Larry Miller is the perfect clueless Pointy Haired Boss.

Enter the Ninja: I watched this expecting it to be absolutely awful and it turned out not half bad. Surprise! It's a movie from the early 80s about a white guy who is also a ninja who hangs out in the Phillippines and wrecks the shit out of dudes. The voices all seemed terribly dubbed even though I'm pretty sure it was filmed in English. Uh... that's all. If you want to see awesomely hilarious ninja-inflicted pain (the sound effect alone, my God) starring a guy who really looks like he missed his calling as a 70s porn star, then watch it. WATCH IT NOW

Get Carter: The original! That's right, Michael Caine, drivin' around, drinking Scotch, hitting women about the face, and getting his revenge! I think that's the plot. It... didn't work for me.

Grindhouse: Netflix Instant Viewing wins, simply because it has Grindhouse the way it was meant to be seen-- the theatrical double feature with all the trailers and stuff, that isn't available on DVD. This is the first time I've seen the whole shebang like this, and it was a glorious three hours. They cut out the fun lap dance scene in Death Proof, but whatever. Planet Terror is hilarious, awesome, and explosively gory, and Death Proof is, well, Tarantino. Great stuff.

Lake Placid 2: Listen, I have a high tolerance for crap. But no. Just no.

Maniac Nurses Find Ecstacy: I didn't actually sit through this-- but even on fast forward, it's too damn long.

Michael Clayton: George Clooney is watchable in anything, even Batman & Robin, and Tom Wilkinson is flippin' amazing, but this bored me. A lot. And I don't see why Tilda won the Oscar, but whatever. It was about as fun as Syriana, which is to say, as active as a Pet Rock on barbituates.

Orgazmo: From the creators of South Park comes the sweet story of a Mormon-turned-porn-actor-turned-superhero, and you know, it's actually pretty great. I'd avoided it before, but people whose taste in schlock I trust wholeheartedly recommended it, and I quite liked it, in the end.

Redbelt: This would've been a great little Mamet drama if not for the ending. Chiwetel Ejiofor is one of my favorite actors, these days, but even he can't save the nonsensical ending, where the hero wins back his honor by... beating the crap out of the MMA champion backstage? And cameras are watching? And security doesn't break it up? And no one knows why he's fighting, which is that the champ is trying to stop him from revealing the fights are fixed? And yet they give him the champion belt anyway? Even though they don't know why? Aaauuugh.

Silver Streak: Gene Wilder is absolutely brilliant, and the addition of Richard Pryor being awesome surely helps, too. And Patrick bleepin' McGoohan is the bad guy! And Jaws is in it, with metal teeth and everything! And it's, like, this pastiche of Hitchcock suspense action films, wrapped up in a comedy road movie, and it's marvelously scripted the whole time, and superbly delivered, and Ned Beatty shows up, and it's awesome!

Sky High: You know, this didn't suck. It's that simple "teen misfits with superpowers band together and prove they're real heroes and coming of age and teen romance and angst and shit" formula, but it's also got Kurt Russell and Bruce Campbell. You can't go wrong with those two! Er, unless you're Escape from L.A. But it's got two Kids in the Hall alums and Lynda Carter and stuff too, so we're good. Everybody makes up for the main kid, who is the kid from Forbidden Kingdom, which was awful. Moving on.

Supergator: On the Sci-Fi Original Picture scale of quality, this ranks well below classic fare like King Cobra, Boa vs. Python, Earth vs. the Spider, Manquito, Blood Monkey, Spiders 2... I think you get my point.

What Just Happened?: This is the question I asked when this movie was finished. Stupid, unfunny, and pointless. Bruce Willis finally appears in a crappy movie-- but at least he was the best thing about it, Grizzly Adams beard and all. Hollywood seems too inept to satirize itself. Also, Sean Penn plays himself. I wonder what "method" method he went through to get into that role. "Please, please, only refer to me as 'Sean' on set, please."

Zack and Miri Make a Porno: As Kevin Smith gets older, two things happen: his films get raunchier, and his films get more sentimental. This is his crassest movie yet-- don't watch it if you have shame-- but it has a soft, nougaty center of actual heart, which is the reason I keep watching his stuff. So, yes, there are poop jokes and wangs and all sorts of stuff. But it's really a love story-- and if you can get past the sex comedy pretense, it sort of works. Also, Brandon Routh has, like, a scene and a half, and yet he delivers more dialogue than in all of Superman Returns. Also also, Craig Robinson steals every scene he's in with pitch-perfect delivery, and owns the entire movie-- it's worth seeing just for him alone.

In which Bill verbally fellates Woody Allen

Man, I'm behind on my movie-capsulizing, and my memory ain't what it used to be, but let's try to get these things straight.

 

So I liked Vicky Etc Barcelona enough to check out some other Allen works that were instantly streaming, and here is what I remember of those:

Manhattan Murder Mystery: This is the one that made me a believer. Made in the early 90s, it stars Allen, Alan Alda, Anjelica Huston, and, hey, Diane Keaton!  in a bizarre reunion with the Woody. It's about bored, older Manhattanites who stumble onto what might be a murder. It's rife with Hitchcockian suspense as well as Allenian hilarity-- I have never seen such tension on the screen at the same time as I was chuckling at the jokes. Absolutely brilliant. Also, there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-him cameo from teen Zach Braff.

Love & Death: So then I sought out this one, a comedic take on Russian literature. I've never read anything Allen's spoofing, but I majored in English, so I know how to fake it. A ludicrous farce, this movie out-Mel-Brooks-es Mel Brooks. It was made in the 70s, from Woody's "Diane Keaton period." I love how everyone speaks with a Russian accent except ol' Woody, playing the same guy he always does, in another ridiculous situation. Great stuff; loved it.

Alice: Here comes trouble. Now we're in the "Mia Farrow period;" Woody does not appear onscreen, and everything's a tinge more dramatic. This is apparently, the description tells me, a takeoff of Alice in Wonderland, but I didn't really notice; it is, however, a strange urban fantasy with appearances by every actor ever, as Chinese herbs cause bizarre transformations for Farrow's Alice; but the true transformation, by the end, must come from within. It was okay.

September: My three seconds of research informs me this is a Chekovian chamber piece, or "bottle episode," where a handful of people are thrown into a single setting and drama happens. We get unhappy people trying to be with each other and failing at it; the existentiality of the universe is revealed; and yet, they look forward to the titular month anyway, always pushing at the future. It was a bit boring, I have to admit; very stage-like and theatrical, in that way. Not bad; Allen movies are always written well, I've noticed, but it didn't thrill me. Apparently he filmed this at one point with actors like Maureen O'Sullivan and some scenes with Christopher Walken but then threw it out and started over with Sam Waterston and stuff. Hmm. Maybe the  original would've been kookier.

Regardless, my opinion of Woody Allen has skyrocketed now that I've actually taken in a decent sample of his stuff. Amazing dialogue and some neat little themes woven in from time to time. I shall seek out more, more, more!

Mo Moobies

I'm sure I'll get off this movie kick eventually.

21: I liked Jim Sturgess a lot in Across the Universe, one of my favorite films of the last ten years, but even he can't save this paint-by-numbers production. A group of MIT kids are trained by the devious Kevin Spacey to count cards and make thousands off of Vegas casinos. But then trouble brews, naturally, and the universe attunes to the laws of screenplay mechanics. Thoroughly mediocre.

Burn After Reading: And then there's this one, which is like Coens-by-numbers. A couple of idiots get mixed up in something and try to profit from it, and disaster strikes, because all of the people on the other side are also idiots. In the end, maybe one person gets lucky and everybody else suffers. There are some pretty funny bits (Brad Pitt doing his "mysterious face" is hilarious), but then there are parts that feel completely extraneous. Really, I was expecting a death-by-dildo and it never came. Bah. At least it was better than No Country.

Raising Arizona: Another Coens production, one from twenty long years ago, that I've never seen. Nicolas Cage at his most watchable, bolstered by the makes-it-look-easy Holly Hunter and the always enjoyable John Goodman. Add in wacky baby hijinks and an apocalyptic biker and you've got a movie that falls right into the solid middle of the Coens' oeuvre.

Same Time, Next Year: My God, this was fantastic. I'd never heard of it-- just turned it on 'cause it had some Alan Alda-- and man, I was pleasantly surprised! Nothing would really separate this film from its counterpart on the stage, and yes, Alda does use a few of his Hawkeye-isms, but the entire movie rests on him and Ellen Burstyn convincing the audience that they're changing as people over the course of 25 years, as their characters meet for an annual affair. The dialogue's marvelous.

Steamboy: And here's an anime I'd never heard of, but it's from the guy who did Akira, so you know it's good, right? It takes place in a steampunk Victorian England, with factions fighting over who will have ultimate steam-y control of the future's armaments, with one boy caught in the midst of the struggle. Also: jetpacks. Really awesome stuff.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona: Woody Allen's latest, this eschews his usual love triangles for a sort of love rhombus, shot in beautiful Spain. Javier Bardem takes a great role as the impossibly charming Spanish painter who sweeps all the ladies up in his wake. Penelope Cruz won the Oscar for playing Bardem's ex-wife, but I really don't see why. Anyway, it's all cleverly written and shows that Rebecca Hall is going to become quite famous and respected one of these days, but the story starts to fall apart for me as it gets closer to the end. And then it just... ends. Also, there's third-person narration, which is an intriguing choice that irked me at first, but I grew to like at the end. So yeah, it's worth watching.

Sweet sassy molassy it's a smorgasbord of Netflixxx

A veritable cornucopia of delivered cinema! Or a bunch of crazy shite. U-Decide!

The Bank Job: For a while there, I was afraid Jason Statham wasn't going to kick any ass in this movie. But then the world righted itself. Yeah, it's a heist-goes-wrong movie, more serious than the trailers made you think, but it's another excellent British production. "Based on a true story" is probably laughable, but I actually cared about the characters in this.

Blood Sucking Freaks: Here's a movie that's more fun to watch in fast forward, or perhaps not at all. The granddaddy of torture porn like Saw and Hostel, this old fogey blows them all out of the water. I mean, if that's your thing. It isn't mine, so I didn't sit through this, but there are bits where a dwarf with an afro cuts off a naked woman's hand and eats her eyeball, or bits where naked people dance and there may or may not be a severed penis sandwich. Yeah.

Lone Wolf McQuade: Dave Campbell is right; this is probably Chuck Norris' most gloriously awesome movie (I still prefer Sidekicks for the hilarity). Walker faces off against Cain from Kung Fu, for cryin' out loud! People get roundhouse kicked, lots of things explode, there's a maniacal dwarf in a wheelchair, and everyone McQuade loves almost or does die. The acting is abysmal, but the lines (and line-readings) are hilarious, and the movie is terrifically energetic.

The Seat Filler: This is not quite what I expected, but the premise is good (seat filler at award show falls for starlet) until the mistaken identity trope shows up. Still, it made me chuckle at times and it's worth showing to your girlfriend.

Six-String Samurai: I only half paid attention to this, but it's Road Warrior meets Buddy Holly meets Wizard of Oz. A bespectacled guitarist/swordsman travels the wasteland on his way to claim the throne of Lost Vegas. And then things get weird. While it looks like it was made in 1980, it's only ten years old. The budget is shoestring (if the shoes even have strings) and the acting is worse than Lone Wolf McQuade but it's cool and silly and has a few ridiculous lines, such as "Why, the wind shear alone on a pink golf ball can take the head off a 90-pound midget at over 300 yards" or "Only one man could kill this many Russians!" It's like David Lynch and Sam Raimi and Terry Gilliam had a squid baby.

This Netflix post is about hitmen.

And two of the hitmen are John Cusack. Yeah, look at that! Themes! Or motifs! Or whatever.

In Bruges: This one does not have John Cusack in it. What it does have is an awful lot of Colin Farrel sitting on benches, which is fine, because the dialogue is quick and snappy and there's a running gag about midgets. The film revolves around two hitmen sent to bide some time in the purgatory that is the town or city or tourist trap of Bruges, until Bad Things Happen. And sure, along the way there's a dwarf and a girl and some cocaine and some violence. I enjoyed the way the movie easily drifted from "dramatic and introspective" to "cleverly silly" and back again, while somehow never seeming like a tonal disaster. The third act posed some trouble for me-- I wasn't a big fan of the ending, and there's a major thematic coincidence, which is a thing lots of people hate (not me), so watch out for that. But it's beautifully shot in the actual, beautiful town of Bruges, and the dialogue flows marvelously-- I see that it's up for Best Screenplay at the Oscars, and I wouldn't mind if it won.

Also: Colin Farrell's eyebrows are capable of forming 45 degree angles, which is odd and fascinating.

And now, the Cusack:

Grosse Point Blank and War, Inc: I find it might be best to review these in tandem, because they're so damn similar and yet so far apart. They share a production company, a screenwriting credit for John Cusack, and three actors-- John and Joan Cusack and Dan Aykroyd. And, of course, they're both about a disillusioned hitman who wanders into a situation that will inevitably topple his currently jaded worldview. It seems War, Inc was deliberately written to echo Grosse Point Blank, without ever actually being a sequel. And hell, Joan Cusack is basically the same character in both. John Cusack usually plays the same character in everything anyway, but here they're very similar-- Brand Hauser may as well be Martin Blank if he never went to that reunion. But where Grosse Point succeeds, War fails. GPB, on the whole, is a pretty clever enterprise filled with entertaining and interesting situations and snappy patter, yet that cleverness is nonchalant; Cusack makes it look easy, as he usually does in his better work. War constantly tries to tell the viewer that it's so damn clever, and here's what society's going to be like in five years, but it sits there like a lump. Most of the things it's supposedly satirizing are old hat by now; it's been done, and better, by many others, so the movie comes off as tired as Cusack's character looks in some scenes.

We get energetic performances from everybody in Grosse Point, from Cusack to Driver to Azaria to Mr. Trick from Buffy to Cusack to Greg's dad from Dharma and Greg to Arkin to Aykroyd to Cusack to Cusack to Piven; War, Inc tries to imitate the same feel, but the characters come off less "energetic" and more "bipolar;" we've got Hilary Duff as a Middle Eastern Britney Spears/Lindsay Lohan/etc. media whore who craves attention but really just wants to be loved or something (yawn); Marisa Tomei as Lois Lane (this wasn't so bad); and Ben Kingsley as... hell, this guy isn't even trying anymore. John C. is again a hitman who needs a therapist, but instead of turning to Alan Arkin like in Grosse Point Blank, he turns to his car's OnStar device. (Do you see? It's so damn clever!) The character dynamics never feel true, nor does anybody consistently change-- things just happen and get weird, or "twists" pop in for the sake of spicing up the plot.

Like In Bruges, Grosse Point Blank has a major coincidence at the end and doesn't ring true in the final few minutes, but the ride is a fun one throughout the film. War, Inc never rings true at all. Well, except for Cusack's badass fight scene. In Grosse Point Blank, we still had the lithe, young, whippersnapper of a Cusack; War, Inc leaves us with the puffier, jaded version, still trying to deliver lines like he did in Say Anything.... I know he's still capable of good work, and he's watchable in just about anything (I love America's Sweethearts. There, I said it), but I sense some lack of caring in this production. Surely, I'm wrong, but in the end, War, Inc comes off as an overstuffed, undersouled production, and Grosse Point Blank is the exact opposite.

Netflix 3: The Search for Suck

Watchin' stuff and stuff. Yeah.

Blade Runner - Theatrical Cut: I've seen bits and bobs of various cuts of this movie over the years, but never the whole thing straight through. And I still haven't, having dozed off more than once-- hell, more than twice-- during this movie. It's considered by some to be the best sci-fi ever, but I found it to be a cure for insomnia. I can't say I'm interested in going back and watching the bits I missed.

Bullitt: Here's another movie whose reputation is far greater than its worth. Here I was thinking this would be a marvelous 60s flick about Steve McQueen kicking ass, but it's pretty boring, overall. I may have started to snooze during this one, too. And the car chase, called by some the best car chase ever? It isn't. Not by a country mile. (Best car chase ever? Still the Blues Brothers.)

A Clockwork Orange: Now, this might be the best novel-to-film adaptation I've ever seen (though honestly, how much competition does it have?). Sure, it leaves off Burgess' original final chapter, but that part of the book feels more like it's been tacked on out of necessity rather than growing out of the plot and character as we know them. Kubrick gives us an unflinching film filled with the worst humanity can offer us, shot more or less as blatantly as possible, stuffed with lingering close-ups of faces going mad and constant scenes of Malcolm McDowall being utterly tortured by the needs of the film. I imagine this was hell to shoot, but it was worth it. Perhaps not as great as the book, but a very interesting creature in its own right-- needs more Nadsat, though. Would I have liked this as much if I hadn't read the book? Not sure. And I don't usually ask that question with a book adaptation.

I Spit on Your Corpse!: And here we have a shlocky grindhouse feature from the 70s. Apparently produced in two months, from script to screen, and also known as "Girls for Rent," this actually turns out to be a pretty fun exploitation flick, if you're into that genre. It has chase scenes more exciting than Bullitt, at least, funneled through the plot structure of a screwball comedy of errors and near misses, even though it's supposed to be a tense thriller, and chock full of gratuitous nudity and violence. The acting's bloody terrible, there's no real protagonist, and the whole thing goes as far as it's able before collapsing in on itself, but for a piece of crap thrown together thirty-five years ago, it's-- *gasp*-- more well done than it should be. And I like that. I feel like Tarantino's Death Proof owes a helluva lot to this movie.

Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels: The movie that made careers for Guy Ritchie and Jason Statham! It too has that familiar comedy structure filtered through the collander that is fun English accents and zany criminal violence! A highly enjoyable crime romp.

Slaughterhouse-Five: Another book-to-film. Here's the thing: Kurt Vonnegut's novel is my favorite book of all time, so I felt it was my duty to see the movie version (released in 1972--three years after the book came out) even though I was sure to hate it. Well, I didn't hate it. The book, of course, is  infinitely better. I could say the same of V for Vendetta-- even though the movie was pretty good, it can't hold a candle to the prose. If you've never read the novel, this movie might be highly enjoyable. For me, though, it excises my favorite part (the explanation of Tralfamadorian novels), we never *see* the little hand-plungers themselves, and "So it goes" does not pop up at all. It's like a Vonnegut story with all the really Vonnegutian bits cut out. The performances, from a cast almost entirely unknown to me (Edgar Derby looked familiar-- he was on Magnum PI in some episodes! And Miss Teschmacher is Montana Wildhack!), aren't bad, but nothing groundbreaking. So, good, but not, you know, Slaughterhouse-Five.

Smart People: One of those introspective not-really-comedies that shows us that the intelligencia are as dysfunctional as the normies! Well, bleh. Ellen Page is Ellen Page-y, Thomas Haden Church does his funny deadpan thing, sure, okay. Dennis Quaid goes back and forth from his Harrison Ford impression to his Jack Nicholson impression as he plays a stereotypical bearded, misanthropic English professor. They're all miserable, but by the end, they shut up and deal with it, apparently, because all you really need to be happy is to decide to be happy. Uh, no. For smart people, these people are not very smart.

THX 1138 - Special "Ruined by George Lucas" Edition: Wow, did this suck. I thought this was supposed to be a smart sci-fi film. I mean, Robert Duvall and Donald Pleasance, man! But, no. I should have remembered I hate everything with George Lucas' name on it that isn't Indiana Jones 1-3. What was the point of this movie? What was the plot? Why does any of this matter? It doesn't. Nothing happens and then the movie is over. Logan's Run is very similar, only that, at least, is awful because it's a silly B-movie, rather than being a pretentious pile of Wookiee dung. And it also has a plot.

Winter Passing: From the DVD cover, and the fact that Zooey Deschanel (whom I adore) and Will Ferrell are in it, one would assume this movie is another quirky indie comedy. It isn't. It's "sewious dwama," by which I mean it's about sad, broken people who supposedly grow by the end even though they really don't/shouldn't. Deschanel plays a self-destructive actress who goes back home and Learns About Her Family, and blah blah. Ed Harris plays the exact same character he played in The Hours, only heterosexual, this time: a broken, mostly suicidal author living like a sick recluse. Again, yawn. Give it a pass.

Man, I hate so much. So much! But I want to love!

Netflix Interlude: A List of Things that Appear in Tokyo Gore Police

Having just watched the most ridiculous epic of our times, the over-the-top-so-far-it's-under-the-bottom and yet strangely glorious Tokyo Gore Police, Japanese cinema's thematic follow-up to Machine Girl, I thought about doing a review. But a review would not do it justice. This is the kind of movie that Chris Sims loves to summarize. It's absolutely mad. So I'll just list a few of the details that are in this baby. Like so:

• Characters called "Engineers" whose wounds morph into monstrous body-horror weapons
• Topless women with sewn-shut scars in place of nipples
• Top half? Lady. Bottom half? Fearsome, toothy maw.
• An Engineer gets his wang bitten off only for it to transform into a mutant cock shotgun
• A drawing-and-quartering
• Exploding heads
• A quadruple amputee in a BDSM gimp suit with swords for arms and legs
• The above, but with assault rifles
• A man getting his hands cut off
• An old medical examiner with a blue fauxhawk
• A gun that shoots fists
• TV commercials glorifying and selling wrist-cutting products
• PSAs against seppuku
• A snail woman
• A guy who bleeds so hard that the force of his bleeding propels him into the air like a rocket

Etc. And yet, it's still often dull in parts. Half of this movie consists of shots of blood spraying everywhere.

But if you like absolutely gratuitous violence, copious amounts of gore, and utter, utter nonsense, this is the perfect movie for you.

Netflix Diary 2

All I've been doing is watching movies. Oh God. Help me. Send women.

---

Color Me Kubrick: Yeah, the trailer made this one out to be a lot more fun than it ended up being. John Malkovich plays Alan Conway, an alcoholic con man who goes around pretending to be Stanley Kubrick so that people will buy him things. Hilarity should rightfully ensue, but instead it's more like a sad clown going around making other people sad. The most fun I had watching this was counting how many of the actors appeared in Doctor Who or its various spinoffs. The answer? A lot. I suppose there would've been more in this for me were I more familiar with the real Kubrick's career, as there's a lot of allusions/riffs on his work here-- I caught some Clockwork Orange and Spartacus refs, but most of it surely went over my head. Anyway, I don't recommend this. It turns 85 minutes into a long haul.

Dan in Real Life: I would also assume that romantic comedies are supposed to be, you know, comedic. This one isn't. It's more of a drama about a guy who is known for giving many readers advice on life (we don't see/hear any of it in the film) but whose own life is falling apart a bit. Things get more and more awkward until everyone just decides that things are okay again. Yawn.

Fido: Here's a good one. A film that I could only describe as "Shaun of the Dead meets Lassie," this charming little movie is about a boy and the docile zombie he befriends. It takes place in a bizarre, Tim-Burton-esque 50s-era world where everything's just quaint and peachy except, oh yeah, zombies are the new slaves, that is, when they're not trying to eat you. All the world's children are now desensitized to violence and trained to shoot zombies in the face. Anyway, things break down a bit and trouble brews, of course. The tone is quite interesting, but the farce and the emotional content blend pretty well in the end. Carrie-Anne Moss puts in a good performance. I might have to buy this one. It's an excellent little entry into the zombie oeuvre.

The Good Night: I knew nothing about this going in other than it had Martin Freeman and Danny DeVito in it. Imagine my pleasant surprise when the first two shots of the film feature Jarvis Cocker (of Pulp) and Simon Pegg (of awesomesauce). It had to be good, right? Well, it was okay-- a twisting drama of a man who finds reality to be unfulfilling, so he regresses into his dreams, only to become unfulfilled by those in the end, too. I think it was labeled as a comedy, as well. Who decides genres these days? Life has comedic moments, sure, but that doesn't turn life into a comedy. Same with some of these movies. Anyway, this one was okay. A bit too slow in places, and held up by Simon Pegg being quite funny, as usual.

Meet Bill: This one's the story of a sad guy named Bill who hates his life and decides to make it better by... well, quitting. Naturally, I can relate, but that just further depresses me. Jessica Alba's character is completely pointless, but then, so's her career. Aaron Eckhart is pretty decent in the title role, Elizabeth Banks further demonstrates her ubiquity, and the kid from that Jack&Bobby show does surprisingly well. A decent way to kill an hour and a half, I guess.

The Nines: I also knew nothing about this going in, except that Ryan Reynolds is in it. That man can make anything entertaining by his reaction shots alone. And we get a few of those in this, sure. It's a very odd, three-part sort of movie in which Reynolds plays multiple roles and the audience slowly comes to understand just what the hell is happening, almost. It's a bit weird, it's a bit meta, but I enjoyed the way the connections came together. Really, it's just hella strange, and I can't even begin to explain the plot, but it involves levels of reality and people being other people and things not being what they seem. If you enjoy working through confusion, see it.

Severance: I've been meaning to see this for a while, because it's a British horror-comedy and James Moran wrote it. Again, however, tone becomes important-- there's a lot more horror than comedy. That's alright, I guess. The horror is pretty good and everything. Unfortunately, the whole thing wasn't very funny. But the last line is priceless. So, yeah. It's okay. Not everything can be Shaun of the Dead. Woo. Scintillating review.

Now go away, I have movies to watch.

Netflix Diaries: 2/4/09 - 2/6/09

Well, well! Another interminable stretch of time has passed on this empty desert I call a "blog," and nothing new has been posted. I guess I haven't had much to say. Or perhaps I did and didn't feel like saying it. And then, I suppose, there's those things I wanted to say that I've forgotten.

This post, however, may be the first in a series. I say "may" because I get distracted and/or bored quite easily. But here's the deal: I just signed onto Netflix this week and have begun watching seemingly endless hours of marvelous and horrible cinema through instant streaming on the ol' Xbox 360. This will be the place where I blather on about what I watched. Because I know my imaginary audience craves an infinite stream of my amazing opinions! Off we go:

Instant:

Maniac Cop: One of the few Bruce Campbell movies I hadn't yet seen, this mid-80s horror/thriller is a terrifically bad movie. Once again, Bruce plays a guy who only really becomes the hero by default, and then proceeds to do nothing really heroic, though I guess he at least sort of distracted the Maniac Cop by getting punched in the face long enough for said Cop to accidentally impale himself. But sure. It's not a very good movie, but it's got some fun stunts, some neat cameos (Sam Raimi! Jake the hillbilly from Evil Dead 2! Jake LaMotta!), and, of course, The Chin. Oh. And Shaft is in it. So it ain't all bad.

No Country for Old Men: Seriously? This won Best Picture? Geez. I'd been looking forward to seeing this for aaaages, and finally got the chance. Well, I didn't like it, really. At all. I usually love the Coens, but this one did nothing for me. None of their signature sparkling dialogue was to be found, and long stretches of plodding, plodding, plodding actually started putting me to sleep. Josh Brolin is a cipher, Javier Bardem's haircut outperforms him, Tommy Lee Jones is living furniture, Woody Harrelson is Woody Harrelson, and Kelly Macdonald's lovely Scottish lilt is nowhere to be seen. These people can do better. Really. But at least it keeps up the streak of me really not enjoying the Best Picture winner, like, ever. Since Forrest Gump, at least.

The Omega Man: Now, here we go. As devoted a fan of Chuck Heston as I am, having adored just about everything in which he's ever starred, in fashions ironic or otherwise (gotta love El Cid, the Naked Jungle, Planet of the Apes, and, of course, Soylent Green), I had never seen this. Oh my, am I glad I have. This is probably the best of Heston's "dystopian sci-fi" films, as he plays Robert Neville, the last man on Earth-- or is he?-- who spends his days cruising around town, hallucinating, talking to himself, watching Woodstock footage over and over, and shooting up robed, albino mutants with a submachine gun. When the plagues came, some of the infected turned into weird, hooded Puritan monster men who want nothing more than to rid the world of science and technology and revel in their dark ages-- but they've gotta kill Chuck to do it! And he ain't havin' none of that.

Really, this film is just ten kinds of awesome. Heston wanders around shirtless when he's not dressed like Jon Pertwee in Doctor Who, plays chess with a bust of Caesar, and falls in love with a blaxploitation caricature who-- gasp!-- begins to show real depth before the inevitable tragedy. But yeah, this movie's loads of fun, a veritable 70s masterpiece. Suck it, Will Smith in I Am Legend.

The Thing: No, I'd never seen this either. Yeah, this is the John Carpenter version, which is improved upon the original in that it has 1000% more Kurt Russell, Keith David, and Wilford "Diabeetus" Brimley. A bunch of dudes in Antarctica go paranoid when a shapeshifting alien invades their base. Excellent bottled premise, loads of creepy stuff going on, some great tension-ramping, and absolutely brilliant creature effects, especially since this came out 27 years ago. Kurt Russell's finest film? Maybe... this or Captain Ron, surely.

On disc:

Sunshine: This is that 2007 movie directed by Danny Boyle and starring the Scarecrow and the Human Torch on a journey to reignite the sun. It sounds awesome-- I love me some helionauts-- but the lovely Bradburian premise only gets it so far. At first, one thinks the movie is a well-shot, indie arthouse space flick. But then it becomes a disaster movie, and then some kind of thriller/slasher picture, and then I wasn't quite sure what the hell was happening at the end because of how confusing the shots were, and then it was over. All in all, it was decent, I guess, but it never really pulled together for me. Scarecrow and the Torch hate each other, then they try to save each other, then they hate each other again, but it's all about the "mission," and, yawn.

Things You Should Know About Me I

1. The "Director" and "Producer" claims on the sidebar are pretty much lies. The "Writer" claim is debatable. The "Crazy Person" is true. I have a certificate. It's laminated, mostly so I don't accidentally die from a paper cut.

2. My hatred for John Travolta knows only one bound: Pulp Fiction. (The Samuel L. Jackson Effect cancels out the Travolta Factor, thereby enabling the Willis Quotient and Walken Vector to create a cinematic triumph).

3. #1 was a lie. It's not laminated.

4. I find White Castle to be delicious, even though it makes my intestines want to be out-testines.

5. I will watch anything that has Simon Pegg in it.

6. My Google-fu is better than yours.

7. Doctor Who is really, really, really, really, really, really awesome. David Tennant makes me confused about my sexuality. (Not really.)

8. Whenever I attempt to do an accent from any of the British Isles, it quickly lapses into very poor Scottish.

9. The URL ("loaf of doom") of this blog is the combination of my favorite word and my favorite phrase.

10. The sun is my natural enemy.

Happy New Year

Yes, it's nearly July. Shut up.

No one knows this blog exists even if I post on Comics Should Be Good (though not as often as I should) in something resembling a frequency. But I should maybe have some content on here or something in the event that someone accidentally lands on this here blog and uses it to judge whether life is worth living or not. Though, frankly, reading it will probably land them on "not," though I should remind you that a good 15% of my readership does not have the urge to hurt themselves upon visiting this site, thank you very much.

Favorite suffix?

I like "-opolis."

Additions to Bill's Favorite Words

6. Homunculus
7. Zeitgeist

Happy Birthday, Steve Guttenberg!

Still rocking at 49 years young, I'm sure. One day, I'll write that USA Network series just for you. You'll see.

Meanwhile, I can't wait for Three Men and a Middle-Aged Lady.

I just had an out-of-personality experience.

'Twas like I was spying on my own brain, and recalling my emotions as if they belonged to someone else. Strange.

Comics genius Mike Wieringo has died.

Rest in peace, Ringo. You were great.

Blog About Nothing

I've decided this is a "blog about nothing," much like Seinfeld was a "show about nothing." Except this blog is rarely funny, and therefore more realistic.

I'm not really sure why I keep this site up, even. I did write some good posts back in the day. That was two years ago. You should go read them. Heh.

Otherwise, catch me at Comics Should Be Good every day.

Bill War Journal 8/10/07

It's been a harrowing week-and-a-half, but my standoff with Wal-Mart has come to an end. They shall provide me with Hot Fuzz in widescreen and I get to keep the bonus disc.

Good thing it didn't come to a hunger strike.

Bill's Favorite Words

I've probably done a post like this before. Oh well.

1. Loaf
2. Haberdashery
3. Portcullis
4. Zeppelin
5. Sandwich

Introducing: My new Fantasy Adventure series of novels.

Here's a preview of the titles in the semi-autobiographical seven-book series:

Bill Reed and the Shatner's Kidney Stone

Bill Reed and the Chamberpot of Secretions

Bill Reed and the Pensioner of Alzheimer's

Bill Reed and the Giblets of Filler

Bill Reed and the Opera of the Phantom

Bill Reed and the Half-Black Artist Formerly Known as Prince

Bill Reed and the Dastardly Hellos

Thoughts?