Brad's Week in Dork! (12/29/13-1/4/14)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!  That feels good.  2013 was a gas, but I'm quite pleased to be through the Holiday Hoopla, and I'm looking forward to devoting more attention to the blog.  Most of this week was concerned with formulating my Favorite Films of the year as well as the rest of the Dorkies.  As I stated there, 2013 ended up being one of my favorites as far as the Pop Culture scene was concerned.  Nicholas Winding Refn cranked out his best film yet (Only God Forgives), Martin Scorsese proved that no matter how hard they try (American Hustle) there is still only one guy right for the job (The Wolf of Wall Street), and the more I think on it, Edgar Wright's latest (The World's End) slowly eeks its way to the top of the Cornetto Trilogy.

Not to mention, this year I actually witnessed Martin Scorsese deliver his Jefferson Lecture "The Persistence of Vision," I sat in the front row of Hall H where Samuel L Jackson actually stared me down, saw the 4K Restoration of Lawrence of Arabia at the AFI Silver, met Peter Tork, discovered the surreal genius of Keoma, and won a Tyler Stout Mondo Print signed by Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, & Edgar Wright at the Cornetto Trilogy Screening of The Alamo Drafthouse, which in turn has become my new home away from home.  Yeah, I should say that's a pretty good year.

Jaime Foxx Does Django For Spidey (I Took This Photo!!!)

I'm pretty gosh darn excited by the prospect of the new year.  How can 2014 top 2013?  Dunno, but I can't wait to find out.  This particular week in transition began with another bit of cinematic shame finally getting checked off my Resolution list - Singin' in the Rain.  How had I never seen this before?  Not sure.  I was just never much of a musical kid; I'm happy to report that I thoroughly enjoyed it.  The last film I saw in the theater in 2013 was David Fincher's Zodiac (again, at The Alamo Drafthouse).  One of my all time favorite films, I was a bit bummed that co-dork Matt doesn't seem to quite "get it."  My first film of the new year was Man of Steel, the rewatch was prompted by a conversation I had with my brother-in-law at our annual New Year's Party.  So much to love, so much to hate.  But the first film I saw theatrically of the New Year was Saving Mr. Banks.  I enjoyed it, but certainly not as much as The Wife.  She got all filled with emotions with this Marry Poppins lovefest.

I also got off my duff and finally got back into Sweet Tooth comics.  Apart from our Graphic Novel Book Club (aka The Ultimate Justice League of Extraordinary Graphic Novel Book Club), I feel like I've been neglecting the comic book medium lately.  Sure, I hit up Big Planet Comics every week, but I've got a massive stack of graphic novels I need to work my way through.  There's a New Year's Resolution for sure.  Not to mention the fact that I've left both my Scorsese-A-Thon & John Carpenter-A-Thons hanging.  Gotta find my Elvis dvd or simply buy another one.  As far as why I haven't watched New York Stories yet.....it looks dull....but Goodfellas follows that so there are no excuses.  Anyway, let's get on with the mini-reviews shall we?

P.S. I'm growing a beard!

Singin' In The Rain:  "You're nothing but a shadow on film."  I honestly had no idea what this movie was about.  I knew there was rain in it.  I knew there was singing.  Some sorta romance.  And yep, all those things are there.  But I was kinda flabbergasted to discover that the backdrop for the film was the transition from the Silent Era into the Talkies.  That must sound silly to all you die-hards out there, but once the Hollywood biography started to get hashed, my interest immediately perked up.  Sure, the big song & dance numbers are fantastic.  Gene Kelly is great, but I was even more enamored with Donald O'Connor's sidekick character - the "Make 'Em Laugh" number is joyous, but it also has a nice bit of biting truth to it.  What's the next Golden Era Musical I have to hit?  Yankee Doodle Dandy?  Show Boat?  Guys And Dolls?  Certainly The Jazz Singer.  A whole genre of film missing from my brain.  Maybe that's my great quest of 2014.

Pain & Gain:  This was mostly background noise while I worked on this year's Dorkies.  But what beautiful background noise!  Finally all of Michael Bay's weird, misogynistic, homophobic, mocking humor makes all the sense in the world.  A "True Film" about a trilogy of dumbbells committing heinous acts in the pursuit of The American Dream.  It's a hilarious watch, and a rather painful one if you think too deeply into the real events that inspired this idiocracy.  The Rock gives his single greatest performance so far, but Mark Wahlberg should get some serious recognition as well.  No one can do moronic earnestness quite like this guy.  And I still argue that it has as much to say about our deeply flawed Nation as Martin Scorsese's The Wolf of Wall Street.

Keoma:  If I could grow Keoma's beard I most certainly would.  Franco Nero is a wild man native returned home after the cataclysmic conclusion of the Civil War.  A group of bandits (a perfect collection of pricks one can only see in Spaghetti Westerns) have staked claim over the land, and it's up to Nero & Woody Strode to slaughter their hateful asses.  The plot is straightforward, but it's telling is so wonderfully dreamy thanks to its slow-mo gunsmoke ballets, the constant guttural caws of the score, and Keoma's metaphorical ability to walk in & out of his past.   When people think of Italy's contribution to the West they think The Good, The Bad, & The Eastwood.  If they reach a little beyond that then maybe they think of Sergio Corbucci or Django.  But for my money, the niftiest entry of the sub-genre is Enzo Castellari's Keoma.  Is it my favorite?  Tough call...The Great Silence is sooooo beautifully ugly...but give me three or four more rewatches of this Weird Western and Keoma might very well land on the top.

Haywire:  Steven Soderbergh is a fascinating animal.  He burst onto the scene with a Sundance Classic (Sex, Lies, & Videotape) that absolutely revolutionized Hollywood and paved the way for indie darlings like Quentin Tarantino, then Sophomore Slumped for a series of films (Kafka, King of the Hill, The Underneath, Schizopolis), knocked one out of the park (Out of Sight) creating a megacelebrity (George Clooney), crafted a brilliant love letter to John Boorman (The Limey), floundered with Oscar Bait (Erin Brokovich, Traffic), made bank on Blockbusters (The Oceans Trilogy), drowned in drivel (Full Frontal, Bubble, The Good German, Che, The Girlfriend Experience), and found new life in his final series of weirdo genre pictures (The Informant!, Contagion, Magic Mike, Haywire, Side Effects).  Has there ever been a career with more peeks or valleys?  Of his last batch, The Informant! is probably my intellectual favorite, but the one I watch the most is Haywire.  I mean - Wow! - that Fight-to-the-Death hotel room brawl between Gina Carano & Michael Fassbender is AWEsome!  Possibly my favorite asskicking this side of They Live.  The rest of the film is good too, but that Fassbender beatdown....that's some real movie magic.  I wish Soderbergh all the best in TV Land, but I doubt he'll stay there for long.  The Silver Screen will call you again sir.  Whatever type of picture you decide to make should certainly prove interesting.

Zodiac:  My favorite film of the last 13 years.  This fact seems to baffle Matt.  He just keeps saying "it sure is 3 hours long."  I tell him it's the best police procedural of all time, he says he preferred The Silence of the Lambs.  I'v been thinking about this.  I too love The Silence of the Lambs.  Great movie. Duh.  But it's not really a procedural, is it?  I think what elevates Zodiac so high in my pantheon of All Time Favorite Movies is how meticulous the film is with the investigation - and the obsession born from it in Robert Graysmith.  There are no real answers here, but Graysmith has to hunt them down.  He sacrifices family for the Zodiac.  He might even fool himself in the process.  It's tragic.  It's ultimately pointless.  And David Fincher perfects his clinical eye with this film, and it's never been more suited for a subject.

Man of Steel:  2013 marked the 75th anniversary of Superman.  A milestone for capes & spandex.  But he's never been a character I've really gravitated towards.  I guess I enjoyed the Christopher Reeve films as much as any kid my age, but when I rewatched them earlier this year they didn't have the same shine I once remembered.  Reeve himself is astonishing as the character.  It's a great performance.  But there's plenty of room for improvement as far as the script and side characters are concerned.  I thought Bryan Singer's love poem, Superman Returns was fairly fun if not utterly forgettable, and I was soooooo ready for Zach Snyder to add a little freeze-frame punch to the franchise.  I am, after all, not a Snyder-hater (yes, yes, yes, Sucker Punch sucked).  What I love about Man of Steel:  Russell Crowe's Jor-El & his holo-ghost, Pa Kent's barnyard revelation to young Clark, Amy Adams's plucky newswoman, and the Metropolis Holocaust (yep, two gods meet in an American City...we are fucked). What I hate about Man of Steel:  Pa Kent's utter fear for his son culminating in his final act, Michael Shannon's Screaming Zod, the kissy face in a crater of human ash, and the neck break.  I could probably handle most of my beef if not for Pa Kent.  His parenting seems all wrong for the character.  That being said, there is enough here for me to enjoy the film for years to come.  I can't really say I'm stoked for Batman vs Superman, but I'm certainly curious to see what they cook up, and how all these icons are going to fit with each other.  But if you really want to get to the heart of the Man of Steel, and you've always had trouble like me, then please read Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely's All-Star Superman.  It's a beautiful depiction of Supes as well as that Golden Age of Comics.

Furious 6:  Not the Action-Packed Roller Coaster Revelation that was Fast Five, this film still manages to pack more fun into car crashes than it has any right.  Frankly, I'm still just shocked at how much of a fan I've become of this franchise.  It wasn't too long ago that I was mocking the first film and downright being a jerk towards 2 Fast 2 Furious.  Now it's 2014, Paul Walker died tragically, and I'm desperately awaiting word on how they'll honor him in Fast Seven.  This series is a goof.  A lark.  But there is something so absolutely charming about the intensity in which they support the notion of family.  We all might be thieves and gunrunners, but we love each other and we know how to crack a skull when we have to.  Fast Five took the franchise into the realm of the unreal, and Furious 6 practically throws a cape over The Rock while he's tossing thugs across rooms.  Don't fool yourself.  This is the very best of Comic Book Cinema.

Saving Mr. Banks:  "The Mouse is Family."  I was a little nervous going into this one.  A friend shot me a link to Harlan Ellison's latest rant, and his tirade nearly brought me into a frenzy against The Disney Machine.  How dare they purport PL Travers's complacency for Mary Poppins when she most certainly did not appreciate the adaptation.  And maybe this film doesn't go into her eventual contempt for the film, but it also doesn't reveal her to be joyous either.  This is a nifty, surface level exploration of  the writing process, and the romance one can have with their creation.  Emma Thompson starts this film as a shrill, nearly psychotic "Writer" battling it out with the Keeper of Dreams, Walt Disney.  A cynic could easily tear this film apart.  But there were several moments in the movie where I thought it understood and appreciated PL Travers's preciousness for her character.  One scene (where musical & biography collide) that nearly brought me to tears in my seat.  Is it the best film of 2013?  No.  Not even close.  But I imagine if you (like my wife) already have great affinity for the Disney Film then you'll just adore Saving Mr. Banks.  And when is Harlan Ellison not ranting? - don't sue me!

MST3K - I Accuse My Parents:  "Can I interest you in a size of ME?"  For the new year, The Wife & I have committed to watching as many episodes of Mystery Science Theater as we can.  When I hear Joel, Tom Servo, and Crooooooow snicker and jeer their way through some shoddy movie it immediately takes me back in time.  I'm 12 years old, it's way past my bedtime, and I'm snorting up a bowl of CT Crunch as The Killer Shrews shuffle about my tv screen.  Ah...bliss.  I Accuse My Parents is one of those terrible cautionary tales in which a teenage shoe salesman goes on a kill crazy rampage because his mom was a drunk.  Boo hoo, kid, it's tough all over.  Good jokes, but also not the finest hour for the Gizmonic Institute.  Looking forward to the next one.

Sweet Tooth Volumes 3-5 by Jeff Lemire:  My goodness, these are some wonderfully sad comics.  Volume 2 left poor Sweet Tooth in the hands of some diabolical scientists, and Volume 3 picks up with Mr Jeppard marching to the rescue before Doctor Singh can gut the deer boy open, and dissect just how these hybrids avoid The Sickness.  I enjoyed the first few chapters of this series, but once Jeff Lemire gets these guys out of the camps and on the road of discovery, the saga really begins to take shape.  What is Sweet Tooth?  A man made creation or some ancient god of the earth?  I don't know, but I'm betting whatever the answer it's a depressing one.  Not for the faint of heart...or the squeamish, Sweet Tooth is an apocalypse story drowning in dread.  And I love it.  One trade to go, should be done in a few days.

Drew - The Man Behind The Poster:  If you're in your mid-30s and you love movies then you love Drew Struzan.  The premiere illustrator who birthed countless posters for such films as Star Wars, Indiana Jones, The Thing, Big Trouble In Little China, Back to the Future, Harry Potter, Masters of the Universe, and Police Academy.  I've been collecting his work since I was fourteen.  Behind every framed poster in my house, you can probably find a Struzan buried behind whatever current obsession.  This is a typical talking-heads documentary, but I was pleased to discover how in-depth it goes into some of his creations.  And I certainly appreciated hearing the praise coming from such icons as George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Michael J Fox, Ken Kelly, and Steve Guttenberg.  Harrison Ford at the junket, though?  That's awkward.  It's currently on Netflix Streaming, give it a whirl.

--Brad

Brad's Week in Dork! (11/3/13-11/9/13)

Aren't women just the worst?  I spent most of this week wrapped in the shadowy pleasures of Film Noir and what I pulled away from these dark tales of woe is that a woman will most certainly be my undoing.  That's right, I'm watching you Wife!  Is that a revolver behind your back!?!?  Time to hide under the blankets.  Seriously though, I love watching saps get undone by dames.  Why is that?  I have no idea.  Some form of dominance I'm craving?  Gulp.  Don't like to psychoanalyze myself too much.  Whatever the case, Rita Hayworth can ruin my life anytime.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe continued this week as well.  Thor - The Dark World didn't take over my heart (RDJ still claims that real estate), but as we get deeper & deeper into the comic book mythos I find myself positively giddy for super heroes.  Since we all know what's coming down the pipe, Thor's mid credit tag was no real surprise, but it left me bewildered at the reality of next year's big summer movie.  Also, October might be over, but I'm plugging away at my Reverse-John-Carpenter-A-Thon with his greatest effort, The Thing.  I've seen it a million billion times, but I'm still wildly in awe of its power.  So yeah, maybe not the most packed Week in Dork, but I had a blast.  Need to get some reading done though.  Darwyn Cook's next Parker adaptation is almost here and I'm a few novels behind.

The Big Combo:  "Shoot yourself in the head, you'll make everything a lot simpler."  When Cornel Wilde's investigation into Richard Conte's numbers racket goes cold, he sets his sights on Conte's terrified girlfriend for some sleazy backstory evidence.  Wilde is a bit of a bore as the lead, but Conte's diabolical gangster is deliciously hateful and certainly makes this a must-see noir.  It doesn't hurt that Lee Van Cleef & Earl Holliman chew the scenery from the sidelines as a pair of hitman lovers quick to machine gun dames as they are to choke down salami sandwiches.  The climax apparently apes Casablanca, but it manages to strike a nerve all on its own.  Bullets, bastards, and fog.  Just what you've been craving.

Gilda:  "Women are funny little creatures."  I loved this movie.  Sure, it's a classic - you have to love it. It's one of those films that has lived in the pop culture consciousness for decades, but while the iconography of Rita Hayworth's hair flip appears over and over in critic's top ten lists, the details of the story are left unknown to the mass audience.  Gilda is a brutal, angry film that gleefully depicts the rage of a romance gone sour.  Glenn Ford finds a new life in George Macready's South American casino, but whatever happiness he has, is shattered when Macready's new bride reigns down some serious sexual terror.  I've loved a lot of Femme Fatales in my time (Gloria Graham, Barbara Stanwyck), but none are hotter or as mean-spirited as Rita Hayworth's dance hall moll.  I don't think I will ever really think of Gilda as a noir (the emotionally out-of-place climax stricken it from the genre), but the film has all the hallmark rat-a-tat dialog you come to expect, and it's delivered exceptionally between the battling sexes.

The Asphalt Jungle:  A solid heist flick directed by master filmmaker John Huston.  But if you compare this to The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, or even The Man Who Would Be King than The Asphalt Jungle certainly feels like a lesser entry.  Sterling Hayden is a street level hood looking to make some extra scratch by falling in with a group of thugs committing crimes above their intellect.  It's your typical collection of baddies populated by character gems like Louis Calhern, Sam Jaffe, James Whitmore, Anthony Caruso, and even Special Guest Star Marilyn Monroe.  The scheme would have gone swimmingly if not for the typical double crosses and downright bad luck.  Good, not great.

Thor - The Dark World:  It seems like I'm one of the few folks out there in Internetland that really loved the hell out of the first Thor film - in fact, pre Avengers, I'd say Thor is my favorite of the Marvel Movies.  I love how small it is.  Chris Hemsworth's Asgardian navigating the absurdity of Middle America and falling in love with Natalie Portman's dogooder scientist.  I really appreciate the low stakes of the story.  The world does not necessarily hang in the balance like it does it most tentpole pictures.   But Marvel listens to its audience.  You want more Asgard, you get more Asgard.  Not enough Loki, here's a whole lotta Loki.  The Thor sequel is a lot of fun, but it's also fairly ordinary is this comic book landscape.  The villain is certainly the weakest aspect of the story - The Dark Elves want to bring about absolute darkness using something called The Aether & what ties does it have with The Infinity Gems????  None of that really matters, it's a rather weak McGuffin that puts the God of Thunder back on Earth and in the arms of Portman.  The Dark World offers more of the Nine Realms and hints at the goofier science-fiction that will hopefully dazzle us in next year's Guardians of the Galaxy.  This is a fun sci-fi fantasy adventure in the spirit of Krull.  Is it a Marvel Masterwork? No, but the beauty of their cinematic universe is that not every film has to be The Avengers.  Bring on the talking trees and rocket raccoons.

The Thing:  "It's weird and pissed off, whatever it is."  I watch this film at least once a year, and will mostly likely do so until the day I die.  It is absolutely my favorite monster movie, and still ranks as my third favorite film of all time.  A shapeshifting E.T. is awoken from a centuries long slumber by a group of half-baked & totally cracked pirate scientists morally led by Kurt Russell's helicopter badass.  Half the film's fun certainly comes from Rob Bottin's still stunning makeup effects, but this film deserves its place among the All Time Greats because of the terrifying paranoia carefully cooked by filmmaker John Carpenter.  I can forgive a thousand Ghosts of Mars thanks to to power evoked by this not-so-simple monster mash.

The Visitor:  "Aren't you a cripple molester?"  Yep.  This is a weird flick.  And in that weird way only the Italians can produce.  I dare you to watch the Alamo Drafthouse trailer and tell me differently.  The film has something to do with an evil alien child, her mother, an evil cult led by Mel Ferar, and a good cult led by Franco Nero.  John Huston's Jerzy is the heroic babysitter of the piece while Lance Henriksen is the demonic stepfather commanding a murder of pigeons.  Glenn Ford stops by for a couple of scenes as a doomed detective, and Sam Peckinpah lends his face, but not his voice as the abortionist ex-husband.  The plot is secondary, but that's what you want when the visuals are so beautifully absurd.  What's it all about?  Who cares?  The style is the substance.  And I need this on blu ray now.

The Misfits:  "If it wasn't for all the nervous people in the world, we'd still all be eating each other."  The final film for both Clark Gable & Marilyn Monroe, Arthur Miller's The Misfits as realized by John Huston is Film Noir smashed into the dying Western that's preparing for the modern morality of the 1960s.  Monroe is a seemingly naive divorcee but reveals that Femme Fatale heart as she storms through the lives of Gable, Eli Wallach, and Montgomery Clift.  This trilogy of man is a real sorry lot, a group of studs desperately trying to stay outta wages and hold on to their irrelevant cowboy lifestyle.  At times, Monroe's performance borders on the shrill (please stop screaming), but more often than not she proves an actual talent and not just that pretty face from The Seven Year Itch.  I imagine, if given the opportunity, Monroe could have matured into a bevy of meaty roles.  Again, similar to Gilda, The Misfits feels like a story that wanted to take you down a much darker path than its actual conclusion allows.  The venom being fired from the characters is just too dang heated to result in a "happy" ending.

The Central Park Five:  I don't even know where to begin.  This doc will set your blood to boil.  In 1989 five black youths were arrested, bullied into five separate & wildly different confessions, and convicted of the rape of a young New York jogger.  It took 13 years for the truth to finally be revealed, but by that time lives had already been ruined.  Who do you blame?  The cops?  Certainly.  The Media?  Yeah, them too.  Mayor Ed Koch?  Yep, F that guy.  To hear Koch openly dismiss the concept of "Innocent Until Proven Guilty" on the air is mind numbingly enraging.  I'd love to think that something like this couldn't happen today, but you know that's a falsity.  The Central Park Five is a great reminder of the casual evil committed by us all every time we nod our heads to the nightly news.

--Brad

Brad's Week In Dork! (1/20/13-1/26/13)

The first month of the new year is winding down, and the first crop of 2013's movies have proven mostly dreadful.  No big shock there; that's how it usually goes down.  But I was hoping for a Grey or maybe even a Haywire.  No such luck.  Arnie's big cinematic return, The Last Stand proved to be an anemic bore as well as a financial disaster.  Guess the rest of the world cares not if the Last Action Hero can still Terminate, or did they recognize the lack of sizzle in the trailers.  Curious to see how Stallone's Bullet in the Head fares come February 1st.  Can these action titans put butts in the seats outside of the Super Group ridiculousness of The Expendables?  I have some serious doubts, and that makes my 13 year old heart very sad.

I still managed to witness some quality programming.  As we march ever closer to February 24th & Oscars Night, I caught up with my last two Best Picture Nominations as well as a Documentary Feature.  All three were quite good.  And this week also saw the final episode of Fringe, possibly my all time favorite science fiction adventure show.  I was never quite enamored with this final season, but I'll miss John Noble's acid addled god complex and the nightmare creations that sprang from his mind.

Finally, with the passing of Michael Winner, I found most of my week consumed with the Death Wish franchise.  It's been a good ten years since I'd seen one of Charles Bronson's urban rampages, and I am pleased to report that his blood thirsty quest for gangland revenge still holds up even when the sequels descend into exploitation lunacy.  But, boy oh boy, my favorite bits of dorkery came right at the end when I witnessed a pair of Franco Nero performances that absolutely stole my geeky heart.  It amazes me just how much transformation Nero can achieve with just the slightest difference in facial grooming.  In one film he's a grizzled beastmaster, and in the other he's all Magnum PI cool...with a ninjutsu twist.  And voiced with great Kung Fu dubbing.  A new man crush has been achieved.

Taken:  "I know the world."  Papa Neeson should never have allowed his daughter to travel to Paris in a sophomoric attempt to shadow U2.  But since Xander Berkley bedded ex-wife Famke Janssen and bought his way into his daughter's heart with ponies and swimming pools, Neeson saw no other alternative than to let her fall victim to the slave trade.  However, Papa Neeson does have a particular set of skills, and he'll only let slavers have their shenanigans for so long.  Eventually those skills have to be put into practice and Taken pretends to be a big screen version of television's 24.  And for a PG-13 actionfest, Taken delivers on the torture violence spectacularly.  We get broken wine bottles jammed into throats, bullets blasted into the shoulders of corrupt cops wives, and scumbag villains strapped and car batteried.  All in the name of parenthood.  And Neeson excels in spitting the rage & hate as much as the machine gun fire; he's having a lot of fun playing action hero and I'm happy to see him continue to do so.  After all, I'm sure Maggie Grace can find countless ways to play distressed damsel - Elisha Cuthbert certainly found 8 seasons of 24 terror.

Taken 2:  "When a dog has a bone, the last thing you want to do is take it from him."  It's Father vs Father in this even more sanitized sequel to the 24 wannabe.  Rade Serbedzija gathers all the leftover goons from his slave trade family and sends them after Neeson.  But these thugs are just chum for Neeson's shark, and Taken 2 offers very little suspense as Neeson easily dispatches one helpless villain after the next.  There's never a question of victory, we're just killing time until one proud papa meets the other.  The final confrontation between Neeson and Rade is quick and rather civil.  Taken 2 is enjoyable enough thanks to Liam Neeson's bark, but it's a pale imitation of what was already an imitation.

The Last Stand:  It's been ten years since Arnold Schwarzenegger starred in a film (Terminator 3), and nearly twenty years since he starred in a film that was passable as "good" (True Lies).  So I really wanted to enjoy this.  Especially with the idea of Kim Jee-woon, the sick visualist behind The Good The Bad The Weird & I Saw The Devil, driving the action and delivering a little demented flavor to the proceedings.  But The Last Stand is sooooo painfully dull.  It spends far too much time building who-gives-a-shit plot with the useless Forrest Whitaker - and Johnny Knoxville has no business Rob Schneidering on the sidelines.  There's a little fun to be had here with cars in cornfields and Arnie firing revolvers into the skulls of crooks, but the thrill is gone and what's left is a shell of past glories.  Kim Jee-woon doesn't seem to be driving the action as much as holding the reigns - let him loose Hollywood, and we might have a bloody good show on our hands.  As is, The Last Stand is another forgettable January release and a tough nail in the career of Schwarzenegger.  

Fringe - The Final Season:  When this season first started I could hardly believe it.  Never would I have imagined during the first season of Fringe that the final season would take place 25 years in the future where our Amber-traveling heroes would battle it out with the despotic, emotionless Observers.  This is wonderfully crazy, high concept comic book fun.  Olivia & Peter struggle to find happiness in each other when the world keeps crushing their hopes; can they possibly survive such sci-fi parental horrors?  Well, when you've got the mad mind of Walter Bishop fighting on your side then you've got hope buried deep inside his drug fogged genius...granted, all this horror is his fault but the beauty of Fringe is that it's his saga of salvation, and watching him fight for himself is 90% of the show's heart.   The final moments of the show are satisfying, and as much as I'll miss Fringe, I'm happy that it got it's time for a proper send off.  

Silver Linings Playbook:  Of all the Oscar nominated films this was the one I had the least amount of interest towards.  A romantic dramedy starring Bradley Cooper & Jennifer Lawrence that center around anxiety, dance, and football?  Yeah, no thank you.  But, dang it, Silver Linings Playbook is probably the most satisfying little romance that we've had in quite some time and to dismiss it simply as a quirky romcom would do it injustice.  Bradley Cooper gives his best performance so far as the bipolar Pat attempting to worm his way back into the heart of his wife after nearly beating her lover to death in the shower.  Fun times, right?  But when he meets the equally troubled Jennifer Lawrence, their bond formed through jogging and dance is redemptive...and a complete fairy tale.  Watching the first half of the film I was convinced that the story would end in heartache and ruin.  But there is magic in football, and if you read the signs properly or force the signs to read the right way for your needs, than there's a happy ending for all of us.  Love, Dance, & Football conquers gambling addiction and all manner of psychological trauma.  

Death Wish:  "Which war was yours?" After his wife is murdered and his daughter assaulted, Charles Bronson's bleeding heart liberal takes to the streets of New York with a sock full of quarters and an itchy trigger finger. The film is far less exploitive than you're probably expecting (or desiring), but you've got the sequels to quench your bloodlust. The first film is more interested in exploring society's desire for absolute justice as well as Paul Kersey's satisfaction at playing urban cowboy.  With each bullet to the head the righteousness of Gary Cooper sinks into a dry Charles Bronson smile.  But my favorite moment has to be the channel surfing New Yorkers taking inspiration from his violent acts, finding the courage to defend themselves with hatpins & steel toed construction boots. Death Wish is a brutal, anti-climactic (where the hell does Jeff Goldblum's gang go?), and rather depressing. And I love it's hateful heart.

Death Wish II:  When we last saw Paul Kersey he had moved to Chicago where he most certainly would continue his blood feud against the hoodlums and pickpockets of the windy city - a vigilante serial killer born.  However, when Part 2 picks up, he's moved across the country with his still traumatized daughter and her ineffectual husband, and he's still plugging away at the architect game.  Business as usual.  That is until another gang of rapists and murders invade his home, kidnap his daughter, and drive her to plummeting suicide.  A new mission of vengeance is born.  Death Wish II is much more the exploitation flick than the original - the film seems to revel in the horrors inflicted upon the innocent, and it's even more mean spirited when it lingers on the violent retaliation of Charles Bronson.  The Gang itself is much more present than the original's random thugs, and the script goes out of its way to demonize these gun-running, beatbox dancing, drug addicts.  Bravo to the dayplayers that wallow in the filth of their characters - some serious grubby scenery chewing accomplished.  Death Wish II is a cheap followup to the original, but it's paving the way to the gratuitous glory of Death Wish 3.

The Paperboy:  A fascinating train wreck of a film.  Matthew McConaughey & Zac Efron are a couple of desperate civil rights reporters investigating the circumstances that placed John Cusack on death row.   Sounds simple enough, right?  Well, this ain't Just Cause.  Once Nicole Kidman's white trash nightmare enters the picture we're given horrendous displays of jailhouse masturbation and what has to be the greatest gift to crap cinema ever burned into celluloid - Nicole Kidman screaming "If anyone is going to piss on him it's gonna be me!!!!!"  Yes, ladies & gentlemen, The Paperboy might be trying to be a great many things, but it will forever be remembered as the movie in which Nicole Kidman erotically urinates upon Zac Efron's jellyfished chest.  There is just no living that down.

Justified - Season Four "Truth & Consequences":  "I see so much death around you..."  Raylan follows the breadcrumbs of the Waldo Truth mystery and it leads right to the doorstep of the Detroit Mafia.  Not good.  Boyd confronts religious whackjob Billy and comes out on top thanks to a little rattler aggression.  A solid episode that's hopefully building to a mob war powder keg.  However, I'm not really sure yet how I feel in regards to the bartender melodrama.  Her bumfight boyfriend is a little goofy, and if she's in on the swindle than I'll be a little disappointed.  I do want to see Raylan take this confident chump out, and I hope he does it in a smart, smirky, and brutal fashion.

Death Wish 3:  "They killed The Giggler, man.  THEY KILLED THE GIGGLER!!!"  In part 1, they killed his wife.  In part 2, they killed his daughter.  And in part 3, they kill his old Korean War buddy.  Man, Paul Kersey just can't catch a break.  This time out the NYPD don't even bother to fight his vigilante ways, in fact, they recruit him to take down the cult-like Manny's Gang.  Bronson gathers his war buddy's machine guns, grenades, and uses enticing motor vehicles as bait for the savage scum loitering the streets.  One bite, and BOOM!  Colt Cobra slugs blast into your spine; Charles Bronson victorious!  This is miles away from the troubled spirit of the original film, it celebrates the gratuitous gore of street justice and relishes in the absurdity of genre.  Death Wish 3 feels like an Australian post-apocalyptic western filmed on a crappy Hollywood backlot, and it's amazing.  Easily the most fun entry in the franchise.

Death Wish 4 - The Crackdown:  The fourth film attempts to return to the grit and grime of the first two movies, but once you venture into the Rocket Launcher madness of Death Wish 3 there is not going back to the anti-hero basics.  The crime that ignites this latest spree of killings is the crack overdose of Paul Kersey's girlfriend's daughter...yeah, they're really stretching it at this point.  A mysterious benefactor sponsors Charles Bronson's gangland attacks, but it's obvious from the start that the mystery man is the true villain...unfortunately, the script drags and drags offering very little joy in the killing.  Not sure if the thrill is lost with the departure of director Michael Winner, or if Bronson's vigilante has simply past his action hero prime.  Whatever the case, there is no real point in going any further with the saga.

Amour:  Michael Haneke does not make Fun Nights Out At The Movies.  He makes emotionally devastating dramas that haunt the viewer days after the credits roll.  Amour is no different.  Jean-Louis Trintignant (The Great Silence!) and Emmanuelle Riva are an elderly married couple forced to acknowledge their mortality when one of them is stricken with a paralyzing attack.  For two hours we watch this couple suffer and survive - if not physically, than emotionally.  It's a hard watch.  Especially for this married man.  And I don't know if I could go through it again.  But I'm glad a did the one pass.  Both Trintiganant & Riva deliver heart wrenching performances, and there is a sense of uplift even when their story is so painful.

Keoma:  "The Man Who Is Free Never Dies!"  If you listen to this interview, Franco Nero claims Keoma to be one of his favorite roles, if not his very favorite.  It's easy to understand.  As Keoma, Nero is a grizzled, screaming, beast of a man plagued with surreal visions of the past and saddled with the impending doom of having to slaughter his three evil half brothers.  It could never have been as iconic as Django, and it's not as fun as The Mercenary...but it most certainly is beautifully bizarre.  Director Enzo Castellari (the original Inglorious Bastards) obsesses over the style of Sam Peckinpah, pushing slow motion action (not so much violence) to its absolute limits and stumbles upon a supernatural fantasy playground.  Mix the dreamscape with the hauntingly terrible, yet mystifyingly fantastic Leonard Cohen rip-off theme song and Kemoa has suddenly become one of my New Favorite Spaghetti Westerns.  

Searching for Sugar Man:  I don't want to go into the mystery of this doc too much.  It's best if you discover the narrative for yourself.  What I will say is that it revolves around the phantom of singer/songwriter Rodriguez.  He had absolutely no success in the states, but somehow became one of the most recognizable musicians in South Africa.  The Beatles.  Elvis.  Rodriguez.  The story that this documentary unfolds is affirmative and uplifting - especially for the creative types out there.  And it lead me to Rodriguez's two albums: Cold Fact & Coming From Reality.  For the last three days I've been listening to them on constant rotation.  Comparisons to Bob Dylan are not a stretch.  Hopefully, this Oscar nominated doc will lead to more fanboy births like myself.

Enter The Ninja:  "I Want My Black Ninja And I Want Him Now!!!"  Well, this is just a fantastically bad movie.  Not quaint.  Or charming.  Just horrendously, beautifully bad.  Franco Nero is a newly trained ninja that travels to the Philippines and beds the bored wife of his impotent war buddy plantation owner.  When he's not supplying the most tiresome of love acts upon Susan George, he's fending the homestead against hook handed goons and their Big Oil masters.  The action is laughable, the dubbing abysmal, and the misplaced enthusiasm for ninjutsu is painfully awkward.  But dang, it sure is fun.  And Franco Nero is definitely the Magnum PI of wonky stand-in martial arts.  A must see for fans of the cruddy.

--Brad

Brad's Week in Dork! (1/13/13-1/19/13)

Now this was a proper badass Week In Dork.  Sure, no geeky excursions into some fabulous realm of dorkery, but I did my Vacation up proper with lots of comic book, tv, and movie R & R.  In the wake of my Django Unchained love, I spent most of my time blitzing through Shout Factory's recent Django knockoff releases.  They're fun enough, but nowhere near as good as Sergio Corbucci's original or Tarantino's homage.  The neatest thing about them is there very existence on DVD.  And I saw five flicks at the movie house, my church where I'm happiest - no more than five rows back from the silver screen.

Smackdab in the middle of my week I completed the first of my New Year's Cinematic Resolutions, Birth of a Nation.  Don't know if I could have handled the nearly four hours of racial hate alone, but thanks to my stalwart Dork companion, I was able to finish this lesson in history.  Painful viewing, but necessary, I think.  The real thrill of the week was my Macaroni Western Night.  First movie party of 2013, an event where I subject various friends to films I love whether they like it or not.  For the most part, I think I was successful.

Gangster Squad:  "King Kong Ain't Got Nothing On Me!!!!!" Wait, that's a line from a different movie. But it feels like it should be spitting forth from Sean Penn's cartoonish hammerheaded Mickey Cohen, and he's the only fun thing about this wandering gangster picture. The film doesn't know if it wants to be Sin City, The Rocketeer, or The Untouchables. It meanders through its narrative and I can practically see director Ruben Fleischer's confused expression. Josh Brolin & Ryan Gosling head up the squad but their characters are a brittle summation of the blank women they choose for themselves. Emma Stone feels like she's stumbled from a speeding Delorean, wrong place, wrong decade. As Brolin's wife, Mireille Enos exists solely to be pregnant and disapproving - she's excruciatingly boring. Making up the rest of the squad, Robert Patrick, Anthony Mackie, Michael Pena, and Giovanni Ribisi are some of my favorite contemporary character actors, but they do very little than hold cgi muzzle flashing Thompson guns. The HD photography is abysmal. Just when folks like David Fincher & Michael Mann are proving the painterly style of the new technology, Fleischer is muddying the argument with some of the worst blurring I've encountered outside of Once Upon A Time In Mexico. But Sean Penn? He's chewing the scenery. He knows to have fun, and work that beautifully hideous Dick Tracy skull.

Django Kills Silently:  "In front of a senora, you take off your sombrero."  Much better than I was expecting.  George Eastman's Django is a terrible bore.  He lifelessly walks through the balsa wood sets, waiting for the energy of horrendous dubbing to light a spark of enthusiasm to his stillborn performance.  But thankfully there are a couple of demented Spaghetti Western moments to excite the audience.  Federico Boido has a bit role as "The Nervous One," a twitchy henchman itching to gun down Django.  His High Noon gunfight at the center of the film is a highlight for its pathetic execution and perfectly cruel triggerfinger assassination.  Eastman may be a dud, but Django's still a bastard.

Django's Cut Price Corpses:  This is more like the crap I was expecting.  Other than a rather amazing title, Django's Cut Price Corpses offers very little for the Spaghetti Western aficionado.  If George Eastman's Django was a bore than Jeff Cameron's Django is pretty much Dead On Arrival.  There's something going on about a kidnap fiance and an evil Mexican gang, but you'll be fighting so hard for consciousness that you'll find it nearly impossible to follow the plot.  That is until Django rapes a woman.  Yes, apparently "No, No, I'm A Widow" means "Yes, Yes, Yes" to Django DOA and the vicious morals of the genre cork my entertainment here - I can only speculate that the complete lack of craftsmanship, or character do not allow for pleasure here, where other more creatively deplorable films grant vision through nightmarish landscapes.

The Man Who Knew Too Much:  After getting a little too chummy with the target of an assassination, the daughter of Leslie Banks & Edna Best is kidnapped by the wonderfully scummy Peter Lorre.  It's another wrong time, wrong place kinda thriller from Alfred Hitchock that's elevated by the presence of Lorre, and his beautifully icky forehead scar.  Frankly, I cared very little whether the daughter lived or died (and we all know she's gonna live), but I was riveted every moment the sickly smirk of Lorre got a closeup.  Plus there are a couple of fantastic set pieces sprinkled throughout - the dentist chair deception, the crushing chair fight crossfire, and the final ricochet shootout.  Hitchcock is still building to mastery here, but there is still plenty of fantastic cinema to be found.

Zero Dark Thirty:  "I'm The Mother Fucker Who Found This Place."  Jessica Chastain spearheads the hunt for Osama Bin Ladin in this hypnotic torture procedural.  I enjoyed the film, but I was kind of left scratching my head over the amount of praise being lauded upon this glorified HBO movie.  The film is not about character.  We're given very little to hang our emotions onto...other than our own history with 9/11.  Jason Clarke is a bearded tough guy, ready to physically devastate his captives in the neverending quest for intel.  Jessica Chastain cusses with the big boys and only sheds tears when the final credits give the queue.  Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the quest play out, and the final storm on the compound is riveting storytelling, but I never felt a connection with the players.  And I felt the strain behind the performances.  Chastain is an actress I generally praise, but her tough girl routine felt like show - in particularly, her pushy screaming towards Kyle Chandler's Joseph Bradley - I didn't buy the bite behind the bark.  And my real question is this, will Zero Dark Thirty hold any significance five years from now?  Ten?  Twenty?  Fifty?  I have my doubts.

Les Miserables:  Good golly.  What a train wreck.  This goes down without a doubt as the worst direction of 2012.  Tom Hooper foolishly films every single sequence with oppressive Sergio Leone closeups.  We get it!!!!!  You recorded the musical numbers live on set!  That doesn't mean you have to concoct the most claustrophobic musical ever conceived, nor does it mean you have to fill it with the lamest ducks in Hollywood.  I get it.  Sure, Hugh Jackman's a song and dance man.  But he falls flat on his numbers.  He's better than this performance.  And Russell Crowe, what were the producers smoking when they recorded his vocals?  He's laughably bad.  And so soon after The Man With The Iron Fists?  If he's not careful, he'll be entering his Nicolas Cage era of parody (and I'm speaking as a Cage fan here).  Sure, the extreme closeups work for Anne Hathaway's main number.  Her "I Dreamed A Dream" is stunning and her performance through the song will punch you square in the gut.  That is, if you haven't already checked out in the first twenty minutes.

A Man Called Django:  "You're condemned to defend yourself."  This shares a couple plot elements with Django Unchained.  After his wife is shot down while defending herself from a pack of rapists, Anthony Steffen's Django goes on a bounty hunt for her killers.  He partners up with Stelio Candelli, a bandit with knowledge of the villains.  The rest of the film plays out like a video game; Steffen & Candelli working their way through the level bosses.  Some good, grimy dialog matched with harsh violent staring contests.  Not brilliant, but passable.

Batman #16:  I'm really curious to see how Scott Snyder & Greg Capullo's Death of the Family arc is going to read in trade, cuz in singles I'm just not feeling the excitement that the rest of the internet seems to be experiencing.  Batman storms the gates of Arkham Asylum, charging his way through one nightmarish ambush after the other, and all leading to the Joker's demented Sword in the Stone torture climax.  Things are most certainly heating up, but I just don't see how this is going to resolve itself in a satisfying manner with just one issue to go.  And the last page had me asking, "WHAT'S IN THE BOX?!?!?"  As much as I don't want it to be Alfred's head, anything less will feel like a cheat.

Archer & Armstrong #6:  There's very little here dealing with Archer, Armstrong, or The Eternal Warrior.  Instead, most of this issue involves the succession of the new Geomancer, Kay McHenry.  But ya know what?  Despite the lack of our favorite bickering Valiant heroes, the latest issue is still excellent and delightfully irreverent.  Kay attempts to block out the thoughts of plants as she discovers her destiny as the guardian of Mother Earth - represented here as a Roman robed orangoutang.  And what's it all got to do with Blackbeard the Pirate?  Not sure, but I can't wait to find out.

Indestructible Hulk #3:  I'm still waiting to fall in love with the comic.  Mark Waid has been having some serious fun with Daredevil & The Rocketeer but I'm just not feeling it with Hulk - Agent of Shield.  Maybe the problem is Leinel Yu.  His art is just too dang serious for the amount of fun I should be having.  Nobody can draw 'roid rage quite like him, but I think what this book needs is a Mark Allred type.  He's taken, but there has got to be a cartoon guy for this book.

New Avengers #2:  The plot thickens and I like the hint of cosmic terror where this book could be going...but, I'm not loving Hickman's writing.  Both this and the regular Avengers book are chock full of exposition, and I couldn't help but feel bogged down in the weight of the book rather than rushing to see the outcome.  And I just don't like the team dynamics of this book.  Everyone seems to just hate each other, and it's not in that fun Marvel versus kinda way - just painful, self-loathing.  Black Panther & Namor need to get it out of their system quick.

All New X-Men #6:  The high concept promise of this book is starting to get delivered.  It looks like Hank McCoy's time travel scheme will result in some serious shifting in character for the original members of Charles Xavier's X-Men.  Teenaged Jean Grey is naturally traumatized by the knowledge of her future, and I love how this knowledge could potentially turn her against the budding romance with Scott Summers if not her teammates all together. Young Cyclops, obviously, can't deal with her potential absence and goes running & screaming from the school resulting in a classic confrontation with teacher Wolverine.  The roster is shaken here, time for Bendis to have some fun.  Hopefully he really veers these characters into new directions - don't let them be Status Quo Part II.

Captain America #3:  Three issues of Dimension Z, three issues of disappointment.  I just don't understand where Rick Remender is taking this character.  I get the desire and need to branch off and do your own thing separate from Ed Brubaker's Cold War soldier but this is just painfully lame.  And the final page reveal?  WHAT.  THE.  HELL.  Does that explain the seemingly crazy continuity at play in the world of Marvel Now or is this a seriously lame incarnation of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles interdimensional villain, Krang?  Either outcome is stupid.

BPRD 1948 #4:  Anders is loosing his mind.  The desert might be full of radiated monsters, but the real threat in this era of the BPRD is this shellshocked soldier with a few too many bats in the belfry.  But my favorite bits of this story still revolve around cute little Hellboy.  He's been hanging around the fringes of this book so far, but I've got ideas that the kid is going to play big by the final issue...if not the following Vampire story arc.

Django Unchained:  I just can't stay away.  Fourth viewing.  Love it more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow.  Took Mom to see it this go around.  Was curious to see if she would respond as positively as I did.  After all, it's cuz of her that I'm the film maniac I am today.  She was the one who introduced me to Alien.  She allowed me to see Predator 2.  And we both sat in a dark theater reveling in all the pleasures and horrors of Species.   But I know she can sometimes respond poorly to onscreen violence, and I was none too sure how she'd handle the depictions of slavery.  Well, I knew fairly early into the film that she was enjoying herself.  She responded enthusiastically to Christophe Waltz's bounty hunter confidence, and to the moment where Jaime Foxx finally unleashed his vengeance upon the despicable Brittle Brothers.  But when I looked over at her during one of the squib explodey gunplays near the climax, and she was giddy with laughter, that's when I knew the film had truly won her over.  Django Unchained is a thrilling film.  Jaime Foxx is dragged through the most heinous of muck, but he charges through the hellfire like the purest of heroes of King Schultz's german legend.  His triumph over evil is not just exhilarating, it's uplifting.  Mom's final review of the film as the credits rolled, "Bloody Good Show."  That pretty much sums it up.

Birth of a Nation:  Going into the film, you know you're in for some heinous racism.  But whatever depictions of hate I was expecting to find were nowhere near as vile as the actual film itself.  This is not just one or two moments where The Klan rides to the rescue, protecting poor helpless damsels from the horror of black faces.  That's there.  And it's ugly.  But the whole film is deplorable.  There are not just one or two moments of awkward shuck and jive - it's constant, it's fearful, it's fear mongering, and it's consciously evil.  And nearly every second of it is painful to watch.  But I am so glad that I did.  And I think you should too.  It's important to not hide from our shame.  We should stare it down.  Recognize it, and dare not let ourselves repeat it.  But maybe, just maybe, you should start with Birth of a Nation and follow it up with Django Unchained.  You might sleep better.

Slaughter:  After Coffy, Jim Brown's Slaughter is my absolute favorite Blaxploitation hero.  "It's his name, and his business."  They killed his mom and dad.  Big mistake.  Slaughter invades South America in a hunt for Rip Torn's shaggy, joker faced hitman (and to bag his kept lady, the amazingly curvaceous Stella Stevens).  The film is jam packed with gruesome goons, violent shoot outs, the terrifyingly ugly Don Mario, and the beautifully sideburned sidekick Don Gordon.  Jim Brown is the very definition of badass, and the manner in which he terminates his climactic opponent is the ultimate in Mad Max vengeance.  People ask me where to start in this genre, I point them to Slaughter.

Black Dynamite:  "I threw that shit before I walked in the room!"  What's so dang impressive to me about this spoof is how Michael Jai White can act like an utter buffoon, and still be so utterly badass.  How'd he do that?  Well, cuz he's Dynamite.  The film walks the fine line of a Blaxploitation send up and an actual entry within the genre.  And for the most part it succeeds.  Of course, I wish the film climaxed with the kung fu treachery of the fiendish Dr. Wu, but I guess there are a couple chuckles with Tricky Dick and the destruction of the White House fine china.  Black Dynamite is the kind of film that you can enjoy in Youtube clips as much as the whole, and sometimes its the perfect medicine for a bad day.  May I suggest the Chicago Wind bar fight.

Justified Season 4 "Where's Waldo?":  The mystery that looks to be at the center of the fourth season begins to unravel, but the real joys of these first two couple of episodes come from Walton Goggins' snake charmer problem.  We all know that this religious fool is gonna have to die, but will it be soon enough for Goggins to claim a portion of Wynn Duffy's Detroit Empire?  Boyd's gonna come out on top, and poor Ellie May is doomed - I see her death coming from the hands of Ava Crowder, the new Mags Bennet.

Broken City:  Have you seen the trailer to this movie?  If the answer is yes than you've practically seen every twist and turn of Broken City.  Corrupt cops & corrupt politicians.  Is there anything new to be said on the subject at this point?  I'm starting to think not.  Mark Wahlberg does his tough guy act, and I think he might be on my "Don't Bother" list at this point...well, when he finds himself in comedies (The Other Guys, Ted, and hopefully Pain & Gain) I find him to be quite charming, but his brute acting style seen here feels phony baloney.  As for Russell Crowe?  At least he's not singing.  And I like it when he hams it up for villainy.  He's fun here & in The Man With The Iron Fists, but as stated above, it does feel like he's venturing into Nic Cage lunacy.  I have no problem with that as long as he owns it the way Cage totally owns his Mega Acting.

Macaroni Western Night:  Our first Movie Party of the year was a Sergio Corbucci quadruple feature, and I made sure people had fun whether they liked the flicks or not.  Obviously, Matt seemed to appreciate the films.  And The Wife really enjoyed both The Mercenary & The Great Silence.  But the other half dozen folks seemed to enjoy the camaraderie and the food more than the movies themselves.  And that's totally cool.  You can't force a batch of 60s era Spaghetti Westerns on a modern audience and expect them all to fall in love.  I just wanted to show folks a bit of the flavor Tarantino was tasting when crafting Django Unchained.

The Mercenary (aka A Professional Gun, aka Revenge of a Gunfighter):  "Shoot him! No, not him, the one who wanted justice."  Franco Nero is The Pollack, a gun for hire who falls bassackwards into the Mexican Revolution after agreeing to escort a parcel of silver across the border.  Jack Palance, in full-on rage face mode, is the murderous Curly, who takes perverse pleasure in turning peasants against each other.  The film is goofy, violent, surreal, and wickedly jovial.  Not only does it contain one of cinema's greatest fistfights involving weaponized chickens (see also Emperor of the North), but it also has the most memorable Mexican standoff outside of The Good The Bad And The Ugly - two words: rodeo clowns.  Franco Nero takes great delight in playing the scalawag, and he's impossible not to root for even when he's screwing over numerous poor people.  Maybe not the serious genre picture some people crave, but The Mercenary is one of its most entertaining entries.

The Great Silence:  "I keep eating and eating and still I'm miserable."  There's nothing fun about The Great Silence.  It's a bleak western filled with mountains of snow and buckets of unstoppable dread.  Jean-Louis Trintignant (see him in the Oscar nominated Amour!) is Silence, a mute gunfighter who wanders into a desolate Nevada town looking for the men who took his voice as well as the lives of his parents.  Klaus Kinski, looking like one of the kids from The Village of the Damned all grown up, circles the town endlessly while picking off various innocent bystanders.  Both characters march towards each other, but the miracle of The Great Silence is that it does not offer the heroic deeds we come to expect.  This is probably one of the most brutal and uncaring films that Italy has to offer, and it most certainly does not provide the high entertainment required for a joyous movie party.  I probably should have started or ended with this beast; it definitely felt out of place as the night's second movie.  Oh well, it's still one of Corbucci's badass best.

Django:  "Just keep undressing, and don't pay any attention to anything I do."  Here it is, the film that sparked fifty knockoffs.  And you can totally see why.  Franco Nero's wandering stranger is all confidence and devious wit.  He's quick on the draw, but he also knows when to whip out the gatling gun.  The first half of the film is easily the most entertaining with Django setting up shop in the West's muddiest whorehouse, and similar to A Fistful of Dollars, playing one rival fraction against the other.  Once Django butchers thirty or forty baghead badmen, the film gets a little bogged down in the politics of the Mexican Revolution.  But there are plenty of bursts of orange blood violence to keep your attention as it marches to the typical showdown resolution.  As fun as Django is, I do find myself gravitating to the absurdity of Corbucci's The Mercenary & Companeros more than this somewhat routine international sensation.

Companeros!:  "How would you like some fresh Swedish meat?"  Franco Nero & Tomas Millan (two Djangos for the price of one!) team up to capture Fernando Rey's revolution crazed professor while fending off the one-handed, marijuana crazed, friend of falcons everywhere - Jack Palance.  The film is every bit as zany as Corbucci's The Mercenary, but thanks to an even hammier Palance (is such thing possible?  YES!), Companeros! explodes with humor and absurdist cowboy violence.  As good as everyone is in their cooky roles, it's Franco Nero's show and it's his performance as The Penguin that completely sold me on The Cult of Nero.  He's all blue eyes, smilies, and mustache.  He holds an infinite charm that's impossible to ignore, and he's got the swagger and the cutthroat bravado essential for the very best of exploitation magic.  Granted, at two hours, Companeros! is far too long but when everyone is having this much fun it's hard to complain.  Most of the guests had left before this film started, but for those that stayed, I think Companeros! was a highlight of the evening.

FF #2:  It's probably mostly due to Mike Allred's art, but I'm enjoying FF much more than the main Fantastic Four book.  I really love all these kids (which were perfectly set up by Jonathan Hickman's previous run on the book), but I'm intrigued by how Scott Lang's loser Ant-Man is going to handle the job now that it's obvious that Reed Richards & Co are not coming back anytime soon.  Plus, the longer narrative thread introduced in the last few pages is potentially fascinating with its Days of Future Past possibilities.  Two issues is too soon to call it, but I'm really looking forward to the next chapter (which I think is next Wednesday!).

The Black Beetle #0 & #1:  Favorite Dork Artist, Francesco Francavilla writes and draws a pulp adventure detailing the heroic exploits of The Black Beetle.  Set on the homeland during World War II, The Black Beetle navigates the seedy world of the occult as Nazi Agents invade the museums of the fictional Colt City.  Fun, moody stuff.  Francavilla is obviously a dork after my own heart, and he's achieving true pulp sensibilities here where folks like Garth Ennis seem incapable of capturing in Dynamite Entertainment's Shadow reboot.  And of course, the art is amazing.  Eagerly awaiting the next issue.

Bloodshot #7:  Valiant begins setting up its first crossover mini series with this flashback issue.  It's all well and good as the Bloodshot of yesteryear invades some undisclosed military base detaining the mindbending children known as Harbingers.  Can't really say I'm eager for the crossover, but I dig Bloodshot - especially during this timeframe where he's such a sad sack puppet.  But let's get back to the main story, and keep Bloodshot on his vengeance path.

Savage Wolverine #1:  It's so good to have Frank Cho drawing Shanna The She Devil again...even if it has to happen in yet another Wolverine book.  There's a mystery here with Logan being plopped down into The Savage Land and S.H.I.E.L.D sneaking around in the jungle, but this book is all about the crazy cartoony T & A and I LOVE IT!  Don't care if it's simply appealing to my thirteen year old brain or not, Shanna the She Devil is super sexy and she kills dinosaurs for a living.  That's just awesome.  More please.

Saga #9:  The Will gets some much needed screentime as we learn more about his twisted relationship with The Stalk as well as Marko's asskicking ex, Gwendolyn.  I love their pairing even more than Marko & Alana (there, I said it) and I have great hope for further adventures surrounding their devious deeds.  At the very least they need to take down Prince Robot and do it quick.  I'm still not madly in love with Saga, but I'm enjoying it more than most monthlies.

Fantastic Four #3:  This was ok.  Reed & Family are finally out there exploring dimensional space and for their first mission they encounter a planet eater....or an eating planet.  Fun.  But not terribly engrossing.  The Thing still calls people dummies and Mr. Fantastic is still keeping mum about the degenerative disease.  I'm not really sure where this book is going yet, and that keeps my enthusiasm to a minimum.

Star Trek - Deep Space Nine Season 6:  The Wife & I completed another round of DS9.  She is madly in love with this show, so much so that she actually exclaimed Benjamin Sisko as her favorite Star Trek captain.  Blasphemy, I say!  We all know that Kirk is The One True Federation Captain.  But if she wants The Emissary to lead her blindly to the celestial temple than I'll let her enjoy her delusion.  All kidding aside, the last two seasons of Deep Space Nine are amazing television and definitely some of the best Star Trek out there.  But man, this season really leaves you on a downer.  The Dominion War is in full affect.  Casualties are occurring - something not too common in the House of Roddenberry.  And by the final episode, Ben Sisko is left devastated by multiple catastrophic events.  The moment the last shot of the sixth season occurred, The Wife demanded that we pushed on to the seventh season.  To think that once upon a time we had to wait nearly six months between seasons 6 & 7...that was real torture.  But thanks to the miracle of Netflix Instant we can go from one depressing episode to the next.

--Brad