Brad's Week in Dork! (1/5/14-1/11/14)

Blink and you'll miss it.  That's what this week felt like.  2014 has barely started and I can already feel it slipping away.  I spent a good chunk of it compiling this year's Cinematic Resolutions, but I'm not quite ready to tackle any of them yet - which is certainly foolish if I have any hope in hades of devouring those Godzilla flicks before the latest reboot hits the big screen.  Gotta get hot.  I did manage to finish off Sweet Tooth & begin Grant Morrison's Animal Man.  Feels good to be tackling comics outside of the weeklies, and I hope it's a trend that lasts.  I'm tired of looking at all those unread trades piling up next to the bookshelf - Gotham Central, Doom Patrol, Infinite Kung Fu, Rasl, Swamp Thing, Loveless, and our next entry in the Graphic Novel Book Club, Sailor Twain.  New Year, and I want to refocus some of my dork energy into the other pop mediums.  Let's not forget I'm only halfway through Richard Stark's Parker series, and Darwyn Cooke is already adapting novels beyond my knowledge.  That ain't cool.

"What A World!" & "I'm Melting...I'm Melting!" by Jason Edmiston

I'm not bitching and moaning about the week, it just feels like it lacked focus.  I want to buckle down, but I guess I'm still decompressing from the massive 2013 movie dump I did in December.  This week started with a Late Show Drafthouse screening of Walter Hill's The Warriors.  My buddy Herms was in town from Texas, and it was a blast subjecting his fresh eyes to the Gang War crazy of late 70s New York City.  Yep.  This is the way it was folks.  Fact.  Matt & I also finally got ourselves around to witnessing the atrocity of the latest 47 Ronin.  Oh man.  What a waste.   So...yeah...the real highlight of the week was easily the Alamo 100 Raiders of the Lost Ark screening.  I've seen that film well over a hundred times now (at least 4 on the Big Screen), and it just never gets old.  Me & Indiana Jones?  It's true love.

The Warriors:  "I don't like the way you live." Ok.  I don't love The Warriors.  It's one of those seminal films of my youth that I just never bothered with.  The first time I saw the movie, I was 18/19 and well on my way to being a snooty film freak.  My initial thought back then was that Walter Hill perfected this sort of whacko gang land in his rock opera Streets of Fire.  Still, this film is a bit of a wonder, and I absolutely love its earnestness.  Here's a New York City in which Mimes rove the streets looking for trouble, where Baseball Furies terrify in warpaint, and where hillbillies in roller skates are the toughest dudes on the block. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of skinhead goons marauding about in a Road Warrior wagon. It's all about honor, friendship, and gash....uh...yeah, there are some awkward moments. The Warriors themselves always seem like a bad date away from running a train on their female companion - I know this, cuz our hero Swan says exactly that.  James Remar is the angry tough guy that gets taken off the stage when he fails to rape an undercover police woman.  So yeah, The Warriors, it's not too PC.  It's an icky fantasyland birthed from the same community fear that brought us Bernie Goetz and his cinematic Death Wish.   It's nearly two hours of confused, but somewhat intoxicating outlaw philosophy.  After all, as The Director's Cut clumsily establishes at the start, The Warriors is a story of courage similar to that of the 300 Spartans......uh....wha?

Sweet Tooth Vol 6 - Wild Game:  Gosh darn.  I just could not get past how damn sad this series got.  In a lot of ways it reminded me of Brian K Vaughn's Y The Last Man.  A Post-apocalyptic landscape.  An on-the-road quest to discovery the origin of a plague.  Bonds of friendship.  Bonds of love.   Maybe it's Lemire's somber, sometimes morose art-style, but I could never really connect to any other emotion than sorrow.  Sweet Tooth & Company finally reach their Alaskan destination, but the answers there are typically more ponderous than narratively satisfying.  Lemire writes a helluva page-turner; once I got back into this series, I was racing to the climax.  I love the sequential tinkering he puts his story through, and he's obviously having fun with the medium.  It's painfully refreshing to witness an artist utterly aware of his medium's visual importance.  This is not Brian Michael Bendis with neverending captions and word balloons.  Sweet Tooth is art.   But gloomy as hell, and I can already feel the story leaving my cranium.

Deceptive Practice:  The first time I encountered slight-of-hand artist Ricky Jay was as the narrator of Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia. That voice. Once heard it will live in your head. The next time I saw Ricky Jay was in David Mamet's Heist. That lead to an obsession with Mamet's films & plays which in turn lead to obsessions with Joe Mantegna, William H Macy, and Ricky Jay. Now for the first time, director Molly Bernstein takes us inside the tricks of Ricky Jay's trade. No, this is not a How-To on his artistry, but a sort of origin tale - a documentary that will drop your jaw in astonishment while also digging a bit into the history of stage magic. I'm a sucker for this type of thing. Penn & Teller. The Amazing Jonathan. Fun stuff. But Ricky Jay is an artist, a genius, and it feels like a privilege to get a peak inside.

Raiders of the Lost Ark:  "You want to talk to god?  Let's go see him together."  You know the deal.  On the verge of another World War, the American Government responds to rumblings of Hitler's Occult shenanigans by recruiting world renowned archeologist/adventurer, Dr. Indiana Jones.  It's an absurd premise born from the whacky pulp adventures of various movie serials, and succeeds thanks to Harrison Ford's uncanny badass charm.  This is one of those exceptional fits of character & actor.  Yes, you can imagine a world in which Tom Selleck traded idol for whip, but that's an offcentered Fringe universe where RC Cola reigns supreme.  No thank you.  The Big Bang Theory recently postulated that the good professor's presence in the narrative achieves absolutely nothing in the plot, but I actually think the futility of the Nazi's scheme adds an extra layer of apocalyptic gloom.  It's not a matter of Indy saving the day, but Indy bearing witness to God's Wrath.  Can't shake it.  Raiders of the Lost Ark is still the all time greatest adventure story.

47 Ronin:  If you're looking for an Asian Adventure with heavy doses of CGI then let me recommend Stephen Chow's Journey To The West.  If you're looking for a few against the many samurai slaughterfest then let me suggest Takashi Miike's 13 Assassins or the obvious Seven Samurai.  But if you're looking for the 47 Ronin saga told exceptionally then you better go with any other dozen retellings such as Kenji Mizoguchi's double feature or even Mike Richardson & Stan Sakai's recent Dark Horse Comic.  Cuz you're not going to want to bother with this one.  This film is nearly as lifeless as Keanu Reeves' performance.  It's a dull flop destined for banishment in the Wal-Mart five dollar bin or the black hole of streaming services.  Maybe some ignorant child will discover a curiosity for the genre after stumbling across it, but that's the best possible future this 47 Ronin can hope for.

21 Jump Street:  "They don't serve vegan in jail, bitch!"  I lost money on this one.  No way did I think a cinematic reboot of a crappy teen beat cop show from the 80s was going to work - especially one fronted by GI Joe's Duke Meathead.  Directors Phil Lord & Christopher Miller obviously enjoy a challenge; coming off a hilarious weirdo adaption of the unadaptable children's classic Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs, they go foul mouthed, meta absurdist, and weirdly violent for the buddy cop genre.  21 Jump Street is too damn odd to be this generations Beverly Hills Cop, but I appreciate the life & death stakes filtered through a gross-out, silly Superbad sensibility.   And Channing Tatum shines with his role.  He's an adorable idiot wandering the world of nerdom and discovering humanity while Jonah Hill descends into assholehood via the cool crowd.  It's a dumb ass movie with brief hints of legit high school commentary.  Something the original show could never claim.

The Other Guys:  Playing with the same Buddy Cop nostalgia as 21 Jump Street, Will Ferrell & Mark Wahlberg are the station house dolts that never walk away from explosions while the world champions the heroics of Sam Jackson & The Rock's Lethal Weapons.  But when aiming of the bushes results in a Wile E Coyote-styled roadkill splat, Ferrell & Wahlberg rise to the challenge of gunkata gymnastics.  Although seemingly impossible, The Other Guys is far stupider than 21 Jump Street, but that's the universe of Will Ferrell, and it's impressive how well Mark Wahlberg inhabits the stupid - "I'm a peacock!!!"  The Bernie Madoff social commentary is welcome even when the actual mechanics of the plot get murky.  You're really just hear to watch Wahlberg torture himself over Ferrell's sexual ownership of Eva Mendes.  "Gator don't take no shit."

Cellular:  Based on a story by Larry Cohen (Hell Up in Harlem), written by Chris Morgan (Fast Five), and directed by David E. Ellis (Snakes on a Plane).  Cellular is actually an extremely entertaining thriller that fully commits to its gimmick.  Chris Evans is dragged all over Los Angeles after he answers an unknown caller, and a weak cell signal keeps him at an arm's distance from William H Macy's savior cop.  It all has something to do with corruption, video tape, and Jason Statham's sneering 5 o'clock shadow.  Sure, Cellular is disposable, but it's the perfect film to catch on TNT.

MST3K - Warrior of the Lost World:  "This isn't Mad Max, it's Sad Max."  The Italians know how to pilfer American Cinema better than most modern day Hollywood Suits, but for every Fistful of Dollars or Django, you get two dozen Warrior of the Lost Worlds.  Doing his best Blofeld, Donald Pleasence rules over a post-apocalyptic wasteland with the doomsday threat of Mega Weapon.  Robert Ginty mumbles his way into the heart of Persis Khambatta, and races through the ashes of exploded henchmen while Fred Williamson's reigns fire from above.  I really can't imagine surviving this movie without the Robot Roll Call, and MST3K feasts upon this horrid buffet with great gusto.  Lots of cheap shots, well played.

Tropa De Elite:  "Put your bad face on."  We're just a month away from Jose Padilha's Robocop remake, and as a means of battling my own anxiety, and thanks to my buddy Darren slapping an import blu-ray in my hand, I finally decided to see if all the fuss about Elite Squad is genuine.  Turns out, this is not the balls-to-the-wall shoot-em-up I had been lead to believe.  Elite Squad is an oppressive cautionary tale destined to keep me the hell out of Rio De Janeiro.  After years of battling unstoppable drug trafficking and corruption, Wagner Moura must find a replacement before his baby is born.  His options are a couple of kids facing their own hurdles in a vile system, and whatever the outcome the resolution seems utterly pointless.  Every Drug War story concludes in futility, but few have achieved such heartbreaking pessimism as Elite Squad.  There is plenty of action here, but I left the film more impressed with Padhila's societal assassination than his shaky-cam.  Hopefully he can retain that awareness for the Robocop.

Animal Man Vol 1 by Grant Morrison & Chas Truog:  I've owned these trade paperbacks for three years.  Only now am I tackling them.  Why did it take so long?  I have no idea.  I guess I was just waiting for Morrison to finish up his Batman run before tackling these supposedly iconic stories.  I think I was also nervous that they couldn't possibly live up to their hype.  Well, I'm happy to report, that the first volume of Animal Man is absolutely, utterly, stupendously fantastic.  And weird as hell.  Just the way I like my Morrison.  In the first four issues, stuntman Buddy Baker finally decides that its time to come out of retirement and embrace his mind-bendingly strange animal powers.  He can suck the life essence from any creature in his presence - meaning a bird above can give him flight or an earthworm below can help him regenerate a severed limb.  When he's hired by S.T.A.R. Labs to investigate a giant puddle of monkey meat, Buddy Baker comes face-to-face with an even grosser lost hero of the DC Universe - B'Wana Beast!!!!!  It's an epic clash of the "Oh Dear God" and it's a sobering warning to any reader not ready for Grant Morrison.  This is the deep end kiddies, time to get nuts.  The next issue is a one-shot look into God's Lonely Man, Wile E. Coyote.  Yep, you read that right.  No Looney Tunes character is safe.  You also get the apocalyptic art of Hawkworld, a super villain satirizing of Edgar Allen Poe, and a home invasion from Mirror Master.  Those looking for Superman should take a hike.  I've had a few things spoiled for me, but my understanding is that Morrison's Animal Man only gets better and more bizarre in the next volume.  Can't wait.

--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (1/5/14-1/11/14)

    Didn’t get a heck of a lot of movie watching done this week.  I’ve been trying to catch up on some reading and planning for the upcoming return to gaming, and I’ve just been danged tired.  Trying to sleep hasn’t been working out too well.  I did get around to solidifying my list of Cinematic Resolutions for 2014.

The Wolf of Wall Street: There are like eight things on earth that interest me less than Wall Street and stock exchanges, so this movie had an uphill battle to rope me in.  Still, the popping style, funny dialog, and solid performances had me smiling and laughing.  Considering Lawrence of Arabia is one of my all time favorite films, and I only watch the extended versions of the Lord of the Rings, this may be an odd statement.  But the biggest problem I think I had was that the movie was just too long.  It wasn’t boring.  Not really.  Though the second half did drag at times.  But I feel like I got the point, like the message was delivered, but then it just kept going and going and going.  I don’t think, as some critics have said, that this movie is morally bankrupt.  I didn’t feel like the filmmakers were saying this sort of thing was good.  Only that it happens; it happened.  And yes, rich people get away with stuff all the time because they’re rich.  That’s just the way it is.  But within 24 hours of watching the movie, most of it had faded from my memory.  It's something I've seen, and something I enjoyed while watching, but not something that left any kind of mark on me.

Clerks II:  I really, really, really love Rosario Dawson in this.  She’s so danged cute and funny.  The rest of the movie?  Pure Kevin Smith.  If that sounds good to you, you should like this film.  I have to admit, after a few years of trying really hard to be one of the cool kids who liked Kevin Smith films, I realized I don’t.  I enjoyed Mallrats the one time I saw it, but never felt the need to watch it again.  And Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back came out while I was working in a theater, so it holds some kind of place in my heart (I may have even taken a lady friend to it, which might account for the positive vibes).  Otherwise, blah.  He’s still running through the same gags, the same obnoxious half-assed social commentary, the same bunch of dick jokes.  The nerd humor feels forced by this point, almost like self parody.  And shoehorning his wife into the film was…um…weird.  Really weird.  Creepy weird.  It just didn’t work for me.  But then, neither did Clerks or Chasing Amy.  I never felt connected to the 90s and Kevin Smith never left them.  (edit: Upon reflection, I think I’ve figured out one of the things that bothers me about Smith’s work.  He subscribes to that particular 90s brand of pseudo-feminism in which women are ALWAYS right and men are ALWAYS wrong, and if a man doesn’t immediately change any and every aspect of himself to fit what a woman wants, he’s an asshole, and part of the Patriarchy [a shadowy conspiracy that seems an awful lot like the Nazi version of the Jews, running everything from behind some horrible penis curtain].  This is just a half baked theory right now, but I think I might be onto something.)

Mystery Science Theater 3000: Gamera VS. Guiron:  “It’s a planet.”  This one is pretty darned good.  The Gamera movies are more kid friendly (read: shoddy) kaiju movies, and their American releases had some epically bad dubbing.  All the stuff with young Richard Burton cracks me up.  And the ending piano bar thing with eventual host Mike is priceless and weird.  Perhaps not in the upper echelons of the series, but a darned fine entry, none the less.

Raiders of the Lost Ark:  Straight up, one of the best danged movies ever made, and one of the very top action films.  It’s also the film I can trace a great deal of me back to.  At the core of my interests, my loves, and my way of looking at the world, there is Raiders.  Karen Allen was one of my very first crushes, and became a template for the tough, black haired ladies I’ve always found myself falling for.  Indiana Jones became the model for my ideal self (one never achieved).  History, geography, religion, archeology, and fighting Nazi bastards became essential thoughts for young Matt, and paved the way for my life to come.  It’s beautifully shot, tense, funny, action packed, and sweeping.  It’s a true homage to the serials and adventure films and fiction of the 30s and 40s, and a great way to spend an evening.

47 Ronin:  If I were 13 and had never seen any movies about samurai, or any Asian fantasy films, this would probably have been pretty cool.  A good springboard movie for me to get into other, better films.  Unfortunately, I’m nearing 40 and I’ve seen everything in this film done before in much, much better films.  I was hoping for a Pirates of the Caribbean type action fantasy film with a Japanese style.  In stead, I got a made for TV, slow paced retread, with little passion and less excitement.  I liked the look and feel of the film, but the script and the acting were not so good.  And shooting digital made everything look cheap, like soap operas.  Still, it wasn’t awful, just dull.  It should have been much, much better.

    I finally got around to listening to Kate Nash’s new album, Girl Talk.  It’s more polished than her previous work, and very catchy.  She’s talking about the same stuff, bad relationships mostly.  But some of her poor London girl charm is missing, due to that polished, studio sound.  And there’s a weird undercurrent of feminism lip-service, like she’s trying to set herself up as some kind of crusader.  But that feels a bit half-hearted.  Whatever the case, the album is pretty good, and fans of her earlier work should enjoy it.

Despicable Me 2:  I didn’t love the first film, but I enjoyed it just fine.  This second movie is more of the same.  It’s funny, occasionally very funny, and cute.  But at the end of the day, not something I’ll be thinking back on too much.  If you enjoyed the first one, by all means, check this out.

Images:  I guess this film captures the point of view of someone who’s completely insane, but that doesn’t really make for a particularly watchable movie.  There’s little to latch your brain onto, so very little to understand or follow.  Every scene and shot is unreliable, so what does anything matter.  In that classically 70s way, everyone is absolutely awful and emotionally bankrupt.  Just unpleasant.

We Are What We Are:  Writer/director Jim Mickle and frequent collaborator, actor/writer Nick Damici have put together another entertaining, atmosphere rich, modern horror film.  I watched Mulberry Street on a whim, and was shocked that such a silly premise turned out to be such a moody and watchable film.  Stakeland, their follow-up was equally as moody, and also quite entertaining.  And now with We Are What We Are, a remake of a Mexican horror film from a couple years back, they’ve cemented their place as high quality-low budget film makers to watch.  This movie looks better than many big budget Hollywood films, has excellent acting, and a good slow-burn pace.  Mickle isn’t re-inventing the wheel here.  He’s not breaking new ground or making movies that will change the way you think about film.  But he’s making good horror movies.  And that makes him a rare breed these days.  Horror has been a near dead genre since the late 80s, and now I’m starting to feel like there’s still potential in it.

    That’s about it for this week.  A lot of things in life are kind of on hold for a bit right now.  My holiday horror isn’t quite over yet.  Soon.

-Matt

Two More Fistfuls of Favorites! (Brad's Picks)

Two years ago, I finally settled on my Top Ten Favorite Films of All Time.  These are not The Great Films lauded by the AFI, Roger Ebert, or Sight & Sound.  These are the flicks that bring a smile to my face, or a race to my heart.  I don't believe in "The Best" - I only believe in Favorites.  I'm pleased to report that my films remain firmly set in stone.  I wouldn't switch a single number.  Unforgiven is certainly my #1 and Point Blank is certainly my #7.  Crafting the next ten, 11-20, was much more of a challenge.  I love so many movies.  What keeps Phantom of the Paradise on the list, but Lawrence of Arabia off?  Not exactly sure.  In another two years I'd safely bet my Top Ten is holding strong, but this Top Twenty will probably flip-flop a film or two.  Well, Dr. Jones is going nowhere.

20.  Phantom of the Paradise (Brian De Palma, 1974):  I only recently fell in love with this Rock n Roll horror musical from the king of the Hitchcock steal.  Maybe only a half dozen watches, and I'm kinda shocked to see it on the list.  All that being said, Phantom of the Paradise is everything the Rocky Horror Picture Show wants to be - and more!  Struggling singer/songwriter Winslow Leach (the super sad & adorable William Finley) has his art stolen from him by the diabolical record producer Swan (sexual deviant Paul Williams) just before a tragic accident takes his face & voice.  The film mixes elements from The Phantom of the Opera & Faust but is steeped in all sorts of rock n roll - surfer, glam, metal.  And thanks to Paul Williams's pen, the songs are utterly brilliant.

19.  Zodiac (David Fincher, 2007):  There is no better police procedural than Zodiac.  Following the infamous investigation of eight murders surrounding the San Francisco area from 1968 to 1969 and possibly beyond, the movie really excels in its depiction of obsession.  Breaking the film up into three parts & three characters, the Zodiac killings attract the attention of Robert Downey Jr's Chronicle Reporter, Mark Raffalo's dogged detective, and Jake Gyllanhaal's curious cartoonist.  Like the best mysteries, the enjoyment doesn't come from the answers but the questions, and how these killings root their way through the souls of the protagonists.  I grew up reading the Robert Graysmith books as well as dozens of other sensational true crime novels, but none of them came close to touching the humanity found here.

18.  12 Angry Men (Sidney Lumet, 1957):  The Great American Movie.  This film has the power to grant every audience member the courage of their convictions.  12 jurors file into a room ready to sentence a teenager to death, wash their hands, and race home to the ball game.  Henry Fonda stand up, "wait a sec", let's discuss.  One man can make a difference.  And 12 Angry Men should be watched every Fourth of July.

17.  Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, 1997):  Maybe not the flashy game changer that was Pulp Fiction or as violently referential as Kill Bill, however, Tarantino's Elmore Leonard adaptation has one thing going for it that all his other movies don't....Elmore Leonard.  Tarantino is famous for his sponge style to filmmaking, the director can squeeze every scintillating drop from a hundred/thousand/million other lesser films of yesterday and mold them into staggering works of genius.  That fetishizing is certainly on display in Jackie Brown, but less so - the man lets Leonard do the hard work.  You've got smart criminals, dumb criminals, smart cops, dumb cops.  Pam Grier's money mule flight attendant finds herself up the creek, but uses the opportunity to free herself from the rut of her daily life.  Sam Jackson gives his All Time Great Performance as showboating gunrunner Ordell Robbie, and Robert De Niro is the ultimate expression of an Elmore Leonard character with his putz of a convict.  Not enough love has ever been properly thrown their way.  And yeah, Robert Forester, Michael Keaton, and Bridgette Fonda are in top form.  All expertly shot & executed by master movie man Quentin Tarantino.

16.  Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974):  Movies about movies, we love em around here.  And filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino, Martin Scorsese, The Coen Brothers, and Edgar Wright are virtuosos in cinematic dictation.  But the greatest movie about movies is Roman Polanski's Chinatown.  A love letter to the noirs of the 1940s as well as the hard boiled fiction of Raymond Chandler, Polanski's film is elevated by Robert Towne's paranoid, hateful screenplay and Jack Nicholson's escalating rage.

15.  Planet of the Apes (Franklin J Schaffner, 1968):  Whether you've seen the movie or not, you probably already know the story.  Charlton Heston's astronaut lands on a mysterious planet in which apes rule over man.  "Damn Dirty Apes" & Statues of Liberty ensue.  But similar to Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, the film is much more than its quotes & twists.  Some of my favorite bits come in the first thirty minutes in which Heston, Gunner, & Burton explore the desert landscape and Chuck spouts his beautiful nihilism.  Then the horns blow, the hunt chases down our Earthly crusaders, and damn revelation tears our hero to shreds.  Planet of the Apes is some of the smartest science-fiction Athenaed from Rod Serling's skull, and I only wish the big, beastly blockbusters of our day bothered to mine the wit on display here rather than Ciffsnoting the climax.

14.  The Blues Brothers (John Landis, 1980):  What began as a Saturday Night Live showstopper quickly transformed into the greatest celebration of Rhythm & Blues ever.  But it's so much more than that.  Under the hyper enthusiastic direction of John Landis, The Blue Brothers reaches levels of cartoonish adventure worthy of the greatest Warner Brothers cartoon or, yeah, Tolkienian quest.  Jake & Elwood Blues are on a mission from God, and if they don't get the band back together then all the boys & girls of the Catholic Orphanage will go homeless.  Standing in their way are a caravan of hillbillies, a squadron of state troopers, the Illinois Nazis, and a bazooka packing Carrie Fischer.  The Blues Brothers is a madcap musical and totally badass.  Not too many of those around.

13.  Big Trouble in Little China (John Carpenter, 1986):  I was seven years old when I first saw John Carpenter's werido action, comedy.  I couldn't quite wrap my head around it.  Kurt Russell was all smiles and bravado, but he kept getting knocked on the ground while wearing ladies lipstick.  Russell's Jack Burton was boss, but he was also a dolt.  Of course, that's the whole point.  The John Wayne white man is the sidekick, and Dennis Dun is the chop socky badass fighting his way to the evil wizard.  Big Trouble in Little China is silly, goofy, and cool.  A combination hard for some, but absolutely in tune with the ITMOD sensibilities.

12.  Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid (Sam Peckinpah, 1973):  Two friends find themselves on opposite sides of the law; James Coburn's Sheriff is charged by local government to hunt down and capture Kris Krisstofferson's rabble-rouser, Billy the Kid.  Peckinpah's obsession with the closing West continues, but it plumbs new depths of depression as Garrett's soul is traded for easy living.  Melancholy has never been represented so fully than in the posture of Coburn's sell-out.  Not a fun night out at the movies, but as far as Westerns go, few achieve richer emotion.

11.  Raiders of the Lost Ark (Steven Spielberg, 1981):  Spielberg may have ushered in the new era of Blockbusters with JAWS, and George Lucas certainly solidified it with Star Wars, but it was Raiders of the Lost Ark that perfected the phenomenon.  Hollywood and its audience have been doomed ever since.  But let's not focus on the negative.  Harrison Ford is the king of self-depricating cool.  He's a real man's man with the grit of Lee Marvin and the charm of Cary Grant.  He can take a beating from a Nazi thug, but jump back swinging.  He can play drunk, asshole, or bastard and we still love him.   He's everything I've ever wanted to be and have absolutely no chance of achieving.  Toss in an epic quest to save God from Hitler and you have the ultimate adventure film.  Fortune & Glory.

So there you have it.  My favorite films from 11-20.  Again, if you're still interested in reading drivel, check out 1-10 HERE.

--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (10/14/12-10/20/12)

    Not much in the way of Dork life for most of the week.  But on Friday night, there was another meeting of the Justice League of Extraordinary Book Club.  This month, for Halloween, we read the Hellboy anthology The Chained Coffin.  I was surprised (and very happy) that folks seemed to really like it.  Much more than I was expecting.  And several people expressed interest in reading more (Jill’s already started).  Hellboy is so rooted in the things I love.  The weird tales of H.P. Lovecraft, Arthur Machen, William Hope Hodgson, and others; the fairytales of the Brothers Grimm and others; Judeo-Christian mythology; medieval history and legend; the pulps like The Shadow, Doc Savage, and The Spider; and so many more.


Lust for a Vampire:  There are elements of this film that I really like, but it is a total mess.  Pretty young women dancing about in Greek-type robes, Ralph Bates’ mousy freak, and the wacky pseudo-Christopher Lee jabbering on in Latin.  Oh, yeah.  But the production looks…well, it looks like a TV episode or something.  Even the nudity is awkward.  As usual, there’s plenty of bodice-ripping opportunity, but much of the nudity that is in the film seems tacked on or wedged in where it doesn’t belong.  It also doesn’t help that Yutte Stensgaard looks so much like Shelly Long.  Not one of the better Hammer Gothics.

Fright Night:  This surprisingly charming update to the minor vampire classic does a pretty good job of bringing things to the modern day, while still capturing a bit of an 80s vibe.  Collin Farrell turns in one of his best performances, and everyone seems to be having a good time.  It is frustrating that in spite of the blood, the film feels very PG-13, and I was surprised to find out it was R.  I guess they drop the F bomb too many times.  As always, a little less obvious CG would have been nice.

The Brood:  Oliver Reed, man.  Somehow, I don’t think he’d have been a good psychologist.  Every move he makes, every expression on his face lets you know he is filled with raging contempt and barely checked violence.  His outer calmness is clearly hiding an seething inner chaos of hate.  Not conducive to mental health.  Winter bleached Canada is once again the depressing home of horror as David Cronenberg explores our violent impulses and what happens when we don’t want to deal with them.  There’s some cool stuff in this movie.  However, I don’t know if it’s the hero or what, but I don’t find it especially interesting.  Not one of Cronenberg’s better films.

Spontaneous Combustion:  This movie is crazy.  A seemingly forgotten Tobe Hooper film that is well worth rediscovering.  In the same semi-genre as Scanners, Firestarter, The Dead Zone, and other psi-power awakening films.  I think, in the aftermath of the 50s and 60s, when a lot of secrets about experiments the government had been getting up to came out, there was a brand of anxiety this film cashes in on.  The late 70s and 80s were full of movies and TV shows about the results of science run amok, always awakening nasty bits of human potential.  Poor Brad Dourif.  He’s a nice guy, but everybody’s dumping on him, and his inner fire is about to get out of hand.  This movie doesn’t always work, but there’s enough cool in it to make it worth watching.  This is one I’d love to see get a good remake.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom:  “Nothing shocks me.  I’m a scientist.”  Often dismissed, I think this is a good entry in the series, with plenty to love.  I grant you, Kate Capshaw is quite aggravating.  And the effects don’t always play.  But there’s some excellent action.  I think my major complaint about this movie is its limited setting.  After a brief stop in Hong Kong, the rest of the film takes place in India.  But Indiana Jones is kind of like James Bond.  He’s a world hopper, and having him stuck in one location feels wrong (like that Bond film where he spends all his time in Japan).

House of Whipcord:  Ugh.  They’re called lights.  They’ve been using them on film sets for a century.  Half the time, you can’t see anything that’s happening because it seems the filmmakers didn’t pay the lighting bill.  But worry not, the annoying, sniveling voice of Penny Irving never stops.  And while you can’t always tell what she’s saying, you can always tell it’s stupid.  I guess this is S&M porn (it’s not actually porn), but it’s all pretty silly.  I suppose if anyone ever turned a light on, there would be a lot of nudity.  But they don’t.  A right wing group of sexually repressed weirdoes kidnap young women to abuse them for imagined crimes.  And plenty of bad lighting and editing later, I still don’t care.  Is that prison matron John Noble in drag?

King Kong:  “I’m just an actor with a gun.”  Peter Jackson’s remake of the original 1933 King Kong, one of the best adventure films of all time, is clearly made with a great deal of love.  And generally speaking, it’s very good.  An epic of weird retro-adventure.  But on a few occasions it does fail.  The most obvious and glaring problem is the canyon stampede scene, which is super clunky, totally unneeded, and looks bloody terrible (seriously, it looks horrendous…how did this make the final cut?).  Some sequences run too long, especially the big Kong VS ‘V-Rex’ scene, which feels like it will never end.  And some of that time could have been better spent exploring the island and its mysteries.  But, problems aside, there are great characters, fantastic visual feasts, grand adventure in the spirit of the original, and some very emotional and beautiful scenes.  Kong is rendered with supreme skill and technical finesse.  Naomi Watts is a beautiful woman, and can sell youthful innocence with a tinge of world weary resignation (she really doesn’t look her age…it’s kind of creepy).  This was Jackson’s dream project, the movie he’s wanted to do since getting into the movies (and before, I’m sure).  And I get that.  It would be one of mine, too (along with Creature from the Black Lagoon and Conan).  It’s not a perfect film.  But it’s a grand adventure film like they rarely make these days.

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad:  This is actually two separate stories in one movie.  First up is a story taken from The Wind in the Willows.  It’s a pretty good short film.  But I think that UK stop motion version from 15 or 20 years ago is much, much better.  The second is the adaptation of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.  It’s a pretty good, pretty freaky telling of the tale.  Some good funny bits, and some good creepy bits.

Massacre in Dinosaur Valley:  “Want a banana?”  Ah, Brazil.  Land of cockfighting and plastic surgery disasters.  Amazing ADR.  Better music.  Spectacular acting.  Tip-top editing and cinematography.  And that ‘humorous’ sexual assault scene.  Didn’t it get nominated as one of the all time greats by the AFI?  This movie is really, really dumb.  It’s only mildly entertaining.  By the way, you don’t get to call your film Massacre in Dinosaur Valley if there are in fact, no dinosaurs.  Now, some attractive women take their clothes off, and that makes up for a lot.  But I’m darn well owed some dinosaurs.  The disk has a bunch of special features.  Probably my favorite are star Michael Sopkiw’s personal photos from his time in Brazil.  The interview is kind of interesting; hearing the story of a guy who had a strange kind of success, but a temporary kind.

You want dinosaurs?  Try a different movie, buddy.

Terror of Mechagodzilla: “Your heart is frozen and dry.  Who’d love a cyborg?”  One of the better late Godzilla films, it’s got some pretty good storytelling and cool creature effects.  I love these movies.  And I’m not normally a fan of Japanese film.  Aliens, cyborgs, peaceful monsters, electrocutions.  Oh, yeah.  It’s interesting that Godzilla doesn’t show up for 50ish minutes in this movie (and it’s a great entrance).  There’s other stuff going on, and the giant sea monster Titanosaurus blows some stuff up (or over, anyway).

Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Beginning of the End:  “Women on the verge of an atomic breakdown.”  This dreadful bit of 50s Atomic Horror is full of Burt I. Gordon awfulness.  But with Mike and the Bots along for the ride, it’s a fun bit of wackiness.  They’re pretty on with this movie, cutting it up pretty hard.  And the grim views into the private life of Dr. Forrester and TV’s Frank will strike terror into the stoutest heart.

Sound of Horror:  “She’s only an amateur.  And a woman.”  This movie teaches a few lessons.  Don’t go to Greece and blow up Neanderthal burial mountains.  Especially if those Neanderthals date all the way back to the Siege of Troy!  If you like seeing old sweaty dudes dig holes in a cave, this is the movie for you.  There is actually some potential here, but it’s sabotaged by profound technical failures.  It’s shot poorly, and the audio and dubbed voices make it feel extra crappy.  There’s a taste of the weird tale and the classic monster movie.  But sadly, this is no classic.  Check out young Ingrid Pitt as the go-go dancing hanger-on.

Tosca:  “My love nest has been defiled!”  Puccini’s opera gets a cinematic adaptation in this 1976 version.  Placido Domingo with his Riker beard is pretty awesome.  But I was quickly reminded of something I’ve said many times.  I just don’t dig Italian opera.  German?  Sure.  Italian…Meh.  As far as the story goes, I think the lesson learned here is don’t hook up with a crazy, jealous bitch.  Tosca is a paranoid harpy who continually suspects poor Mario of every kind of infidelity with little or no cause beyond her own self-obsessed insecurity.  I’m a loyal guy, but two hours of this woman’s flip-flopping emotions, accusations, and suspicions would probably drive me into the arms of another woman…Or a monastery.  Though she eventually becomes less awful as their situation grows more terrible.  And the end is pretty badass.

P.J. Harvey on Tour -Please Leave Quietly:  P.J. Harvey is probably my favorite currently active musical act.  She’s frequently on my computer’s rotation, her CDs often near the top of the pile.  Hers was also the first real concert I ever attended (what can I say, I lived in Maine for 31 years and 38 Special didn’t do anything for me).  So when she put out a live DVD, of course I picked it up.  Sadly, it’s just not what I wanted at all.  It’s super disjointed and looks thrown together.  The music sounds good, but it’s not shot at a single event.  Even within a single song there is footage from several different performances.  It just feels weird and fake.  Parts of various performances are really good, but I really, really don’t like the format.  Also, her guitarist who keeps twitching and falling about is annoying as hell.

Master of the Flying Guillotine:  Jimmy Wang Yu is the One Armed Boxer, and he’s got old man assassin problems.  A blind old dude, with a long white beard has a wacky head chopping weapon, is looking to trim some martial artists… a bit off the top.  A fighting contest, a bunch of foreign fighters, and some fantastically weird music all crank up the kung fu chop-socky.  Some pretty good fights and some unintentionally hysterical dubbing.  Great stuff.

Lost Horizon:  I like this quiet and thoughtful, almost wistful movie about a man’s hope for a better world.  After fleeing violent conflict, a diplomat and a ragtag group of refugees crash in the mountains of central Asia.  From there, a dangerous journey through the snow takes the group to a hidden land of peace and tranquility.  But not everyone wants peace.  Not everyone is ready or willing to be happy.  Not everyone can cast off the trappings of their former life.  The movie is like a dream, a meditation on paradise, and a contemplation of life and desire.  It’s a fascinating classic, which was not well received in its day, and there’s no wonder.  Not an action movie, but a grand spiritual journey.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade:  “Goose-stepping morons like yourself should try reading books instead of burning them.”  I know this is an unpopular opinion, but this is probably my least favorite of all the Indiana Jones films.  Don’t get me wrong, that still puts it up there.  It’s pretty great.  But it has some major problems.  The entire opening, featuring young Indiana, is bloody awful.  It’s too humorous and goofy (what‘s with that fat kid?).  Even the credits kind of suck (and that’s not something I usually notice).  Why is Marcus a bumbling idiot?  And as a friend recently pointed out, it’s lame that all of his trademark quirks (hat, whip, chin scar, snake fear, etc.) all come out of one single event.  Plus there is too much of an attempt to remake the first film.  Another Judeo-Christian artifact, more Nazis, a very similar plot progression.  The differences are what make it work, in spite of the problems.  The relationship with his father and the more fatale femme.  And the world hopping is back, which is something I want in this kind of film.

The Mummy:  I have such mixed feelings about this movie.  I was pretty jazzed to see it when it first came out, but was seriously disappointed upon watching.  It still feels like they were trying to do too many things, go in too many directions, and thus failed at all.  It’s not funny enough to be a comedy, not scary enough to be a horror movie, and not exciting enough to be an action movie.  But over the years, I’ve come to enjoy it as a light bit of pulpy fun (not good, but fun).  Of course, the Egyptian history nerd in me screams out at how much they bungle things.  But that happens every time ancient Egypt is used (10 Commandments, I’m looking at you!).  This movie did finally give me a name for a character archetype.  The Beni Character is that guy who shows up in a story only because the writer needs someone to create conflict.  Pay attention to Beni (Kevin J. O’Connor) in this.  He is directly responsible for every single bad thing that happens.  And, if someone just put a bullet in him the first time he did something that clearly warranted immediate execution (At the ten minute mark, by the way.  Though an argument could be made for eight minutes, I would vote for a severe beating, not death, for that act.) then everything would have turned out fine.  The Beni character is all too common these days, especially in the realm of horror, where nearly every horror movie (and most science fiction) relies purely on at least one character being as stupid as humanly possible in order to move the plot along (see: any ghost movie, Drag Me to Hell, Prometheus, Sunshine, etc.).  It also serves as a reminder that while CGI can do amazing things, it shouldn’t be a star unto itself.  Anyhow, I think this was the movie where I first really noticed Rachel Weisz.  And for that, it deserves a certain place in my movie lover’s heart.

    I read B.P.R.D. volume 3.  That continues to be an excellent series, and I can’t wait to read the next volume, which should be out in a little over a month.  And first volume of the New 52 Aquaman, which was a heck of a lot of fun.

    And in the wake of the Hellboy reading of last week, I finally sat down to the Library Edition volume 5, as well as the finishing part of that story, the trade paperback The Storm and the Fury.  Kept chugging along and read the short story anthology The Bride of Hell.

    After the extremely fun Aquaman: The Trench, I figured what the heck, and read that series’ issue 0.  It’s pretty much just a glossed over origin story.  Not much actual depth, but at least it gives you a few facts of his beginnings.

    Issue 63 of Futurama was pretty funny.  It got a couple good chuckles out of me, actually.  They do a good job of capturing the characters from the show.  You can almost hear the voice actors as you read.  There’s certainly nothing of consequence going on.  But it’s perfectly enjoyable silliness.

    Issue 0 of Batman The Dark Knight is a reminder of how familiar Bruce Wayne’s origins are at this point, and how it might be time to stop revisiting it.  Everything here is stuff you’ve seen before, from a slightly different angle.  Not really an interesting one.

-Matt