Brad's Two Weeks In Cap! (3/30/14-4/12/13)

It's all been building to this.  Every couple of months I fall into obsession - well, let's be real, I'm in a constant state of obsession but that Large Obsession develops into multiple mini-obsessions throughout the year.  When we first started ITMOD Matt & I were obsessing over Hobos With Shotguns, and since then you've seen me ga-ga for Star Trek, Shatner, Heston, Dirty Harry, Batman, Jim Brown, Avengers, Avengers, Avengers, and Avengers.  The hype building up to Captain America - The Winter Soldier has been typically intense across the internet.  Not quite to the level of when The Avengers super movie hit, or even when Pacific Rim flopped all over last year's Summer, but as April 4th got close and closer I found myself all a tingle with anticipation.  Of course, it didn't help that I was rereading Ed Brubaker's monumental run on the Marvel Comic - yeash, I barely got through it all in time for the movie.  When all is said and done, Brubaker's Winter Soldier & Death of Captain America arcs are TOPS while the rest is compiled with schizophrenic peaks & valleys.

But I've managed to squeak in some non Cap stuff as well.  AFI Silver screened David Lynch's Mulholland Drive, Darren Aronofsky dropped his wacky Old Testament saga, Cheap Thrills hit VOD, Angelika had the kill crazy rampage of The Raid 2, and Ben Wheatly's magnificent mondo horror A Field in England just hit glorious blu ray.  And yeah, Captain America lead me into a mini-blaxploitation marathon which is proof positive that Winter Soldier is simply too cool for fools, folks.  Here's the breakdown -

Mulholland Drive:  "Maybe it's not me."  I'm almost fairly certain this was not the first David Lynch film I ever experienced (surely, I saw Blue Velvet some time during high school), but it was most certainly the first one I saw on the Big Screen.  And it is the film that propelled me through the rest of his catalogue in which I would eventually discover Lost Highway and Twin Peaks and forever question the realities we establish around us.  Mulholland Drive begins like a typical L.A. Noir.  A limousine crashes alongside a twisting road, a woman stumbles from the wreckage with no memory of who she was before, and a wannabe starlit plays detective.  A Nancy Drew styled investigation begins with sinister side characters popping up to send shivers down spines.  Who is the cowboy?  What horror lurks behind the diner?  What. Is. In. The. Box?  Those seeking answers or simple, tidy resolution should not bother.  You could probably crack some plot out of the script, but it's best to approach Mulholland Drive as an experiment in tone, style, symbolism.  There might be answers, but they're not going to be nearly as interesting as the act of Lynch's Hollywood deconstruction.  This is hard boiled poetry.

Captain America - Two Americas, No Escape, & The Trial of Captain America by Ed Brubaker:  After resurrecting Bucky Barnes and killing Steve Rogers, it felt like Ed Brubaker pretty much said all he had to say about Captain America.  With The First Avenger debuting in the Marvel Cinematic Universe alongside Robert Downey Jr and the billion dollar promise of Joss Whedon's Blockbuster, Rogers had to be put back under the cowl in the comics.  I hated, hated, hated that cold hard fact at the time, but upon rereading the series I found myself really enjoying the comic book silly of Reborn.  And that's probably where Brubaker should have left.  Every story he crafted after that was a bit of a letdown.  Two Americas has its moments as Bucky Cap battles the Captain America of the 1950s while Steve Rogers goes off to have spin-off Super Soldier adventures.  It's decent.  50s Cap is a sadsack tidbit in comic book history worth exploring.  No Escape pits Baron Zemo Jr against Bucky Cap and the climax is emotionally confusing and utterly blah.  And after removing Bucky Barnes from the equation offscreen in Matt Fraction's abysmal Fear Itself event, The Trial of Captain America concludes The Winter Soldier storyline in a boring, run-of-the-mill prison escape.  The murky world of Cold War paranoia handled so exceptionally by Ed Brubaker and Steve Eptiing concludes with some half-assed/half-hearted storytelling.  It's rather depressing.

Iron Man Three:  "Take me to church!"  This film will always suffer in the eyes of fanboys as the followup to The Avengers.  I hate hearing the complaint, "Why doesn't Stark just call up the Super Friends?"  It's a question you'll never hear from comic book geeks.  I'm sure we could spend hours/days/months/years concocting a reason why Captain America doesn't appear to kick The Mandarin's ass, but the simple fact is that every movie cannot be The Avengers.  Cap was busy.  Deal.  I think that Iron Man 3 is an exceptional emotional sequel to Joss Whedon's extravaganza.  Director Shane Black brings in as much of his personality as he can, and delivers a banter heavy buddy film in which Tony Stark battles his inner demons (PTSD here instead of that classic Demon in a Bottle) while navigating the shadowy world of domestic/corporate terrorism.  And I'll never understand the hate for Ben Kinglsey's Mandarin.  You wanted Yellow Peril?  You thought Fu Man Chu was a badass comic book villain?  No you didn't.  No one liked The Mandarin five years ago, and don't pretend this twist on the character is not genius and the only way the MCU could have gone.  For my money, Iron Man 3 is easily the best of the trilogy, and leaves Tony Stark in a fascinating predicament for Avengers - Age of Ultron.

Thor - The Dark World:  I really enjoyed the first film's romcom approach to super heroes, and it remains my favorite of the Phase One Marvel Movies.  With Jane Foster now coming to Asgard, I was hoping for some more of that fish-out-of-water comedy, but it doesn't seem like Marvel was interested in staying small and character centric after The Battle of New York.  Not as successful in moving forward as Iron Man 3, The Dark World still succeeds more than it fails thanks to the neverending charm of Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston.  When Thor & Loki are on screen the audience is having a good time.  When Dark Elves and Aethers are filling exposition the audience is yawning.  Not a bad movie, and certainly not the worst film in the MCU cannon (cough, cough, Iron Man 2), The Dark World certainly doesn't thrill as much on repeat viewings.  Alan Taylor managers to craft a fun world hopping action sequence for the climax, and Mjolnir has never worked better then it does here playing catchup, but ultimately I feel that Thor 2 is simply a stopgap on our way to the next adventure.

Ultimate Spider-Man #200:  I don't really talk much about single issues on the blog anymore.  Frankly, as I struggle to keep these Weeks in Dork flowing on time, I just don't have the energy to ramble on about every floppy that gets my attention.  That being said, I just need to take a moment and gush about Brian Michael Bendis' latest bit of Ultimate Spider-Man goodness.  Peter Parker is dead.  I hope he stays that way.  I'd like to say that in the Ultimate Universe dead is dead, but that Carnage Gwen Stacy monstrosity is walking around and there's a retcon that doesn't get nearly as much attention as it should - gross, gross, gross.  But hopefully Ultimate Petey remains in the ground...at least as long as Bendis is writing the book.  Writer leaves, I leave.  The 200th issue (I guess if you count all the relaunches and the Cataclysm event that makes sense) revolves around a memorial for Peter Parker.  Aunty May is there.  Gwen Stacy (again, Carnage, again, gross) is there.  Mary Jane.  Kitty Pryde.  Miles Morales.  Ganke.  Kong.  The whole supporting cast.  Each one is given the chance to imagine what the world would be like if Parker hadn't died.  Their splash pages are wonderful.  Kitty's page is heartrbeaking.  This is the type of melodrama that Spider-Man comics do so well, and Bendis reinvigorated my love for the character.  Just keep 'em coming.

Noah:  I enjoyed it.  More than I thought I would.  But I really haven't thought about the movie since I left the theater.  Russell Crowe's Noah is one tough hombre.  He's burdened by visions of God's watery wrath, and decides to construct an ark to hold the innocents of Earth - aka the animals, no room for man here.  I really enjoyed the first half of the film with Crowe partnering up with rocky fallen angels and defending his earthship from Ray Winstone's marauding sinners.  However, once the rains come and the family psychodrama takes over, I checked out.  The Genesis flashback is pretty cool, and when the film gets nuts, it really gets nut, but I never connected with Noah's pain.  This is more the kind of film I want from Aronofsky, but it's still nowhere near as engaging as his earlier films.

Captain America Volume 6 Issues 1-17 by Ed Brubaker & Cullen Bunn:  What a whimper.  As stated above, the best Captain America comics occur under the direction of Ed Brubaker, but his final run on the series is a tremendous letdown.  For the first five issues, Brubaker is joined by Super Star Artist Steve McNiven and he kills it...until he disappears from the series and the Operation Bravo storyline is rushed by the pedestrian work of Giuseppe Camuncoli.  Ugh.  And Operation Bravo???  Way back when in WWII, Cap & Bucky lose a military operative in a child's imagination where he partners with Hydra lackeys and..............snooooooze!  Bravo sticks around for the rest of these issues where Cullen Bunn finishes Brubaker's plot involving a floating Hydra base and Jack Kirby's Mad Bomb.  Dumb, dumb, dumb.  Along the way D-Man gets a 90s makeover and Diamondback gets catty with Agent 13.  It's hard to believe this is the same guy responsible for The Winter Soldier.  Brubaker was on his way out from Marvel and it's painfully obvious during his final moments.  A real comic book tragedy.

Captain America - The First Avenger:  It's hard not to focus on the missed opportunities when discussing Cap's first appearance in the MCU.  Raiders of the Lost Ark + Marvel (should) = The Greatest World War II Nazi Smashing Adventure Film Ever Made!!!!  Sadly, the film looses itself (& WWII) through a series of limp montages as it propels Steve Rogers into the future where he'll contribute to the Damn Yankees of Comic Book movies, aka The Avengers.  Pretty much ignoring Hitler and his SS Goons in exchange for the toy friendly Hydra, The First Avenger screws itself when it comes to the villain threat.  The Red Skull is the most terrifying villain in the Marvel Universe, and he's tidied out of the plot with a couple of punches and an inexplicable (although extremely opportune) touch of Asgardian teleportation.  I'm still crossing my fingers that The Skull will redeem his villainy in Captain America III, and if enough money/sandwiches are thrown Hugo Weaving's way I'm sure he'll supply his Herzogian razzle dazzle.  What the film does get right is Steve Rogers.  The First Avenger is easily the most successful of the cinematic origin stories, and there is more heart in Chris Evans's performance than in all of his Super Friends combined.  His final moments with Stanley Tucci's Dr. Erskine reduce me to tears every single time - that index finger to the heart...gosh...heart in throat. Movie Audiences can be a cynical bunch of eye-rollers these days, and it's truly impressive that a golly-gee "Truth Justice & The American Way" kinda super hero can snatch their attention.  I only wish Warner Brothers had that amount of trust in their audience when it came to their gritty, modern Man of Steel.  So, for that first hour alone, Captain America The First Avenger ranks as one of my very favorites in Phase One of the MCU.

Captain America - The Winter Soldier:  Ten minutes in, the film had me.  No other studio on the planet would open their giant franchise blockbuster with a character beat.  Steve Rogers, the Man out of Time, runs laps around the Washington Mall and has a chance encounter with modern day soldier Sam Wilson.  The two bond through their Military Experience and Marvin Gaye's Trouble Man soundtrack. Captain America, The Falcon, & Mr. T! Does it get any better than that!?!?!?!?  Oh my goodness, YES!  From their we get a S.H.I.E.L.D. Assault on a hijacked ocean liner, a wannabe Bourne ass kicking of Batroc The Leaper, a Downtown DC Nick Fury beatdown at the hands of the not-so-mysterious Winter Soldier, a cold war bunker full of War Games, and a climactic trilogy of action straight out of Return of the Jedi.  Did I enjoy The Winter Soldier as much as The Avengers?  No, I don't think so.  There will always be something special about The Avengers - it was the first to put Cap, Thor, & Iron Man on the same screen.  It's hard to top.  Is The Winter Soldier a better movie than The Avengers?  Maybe.  It certainly contains the best action sequences we've seen in the MCU so far.  Cap's shield has never been more comic book perfect.  The film absolutely understands the sadness behind the Man Out Of Time concept, as well as the hopefulness of The Greatest Generation Warrior.  If I had one complaint about the film is that since the Bucky Barnes character was horribly underused in the first movie then those in the crowd without a built-in investment for their friendship might not fully grasp the tragedy of The Winter Soldier device.  Of course, despite the subtitle, Cap 2 is less about the brainwashed villain and more about the Cold War Conspiracy infecting the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  Who is Captain America when America is no longer America?  Old Fashioned Values vs. Post 9/11 Freedom Isn't Free Morality.  It's a juxtaposition of ideals that writer Mark Millar plunged exceptionally in both his Ultimates run and the Civil War saga, and it's exactly where Captain America belongs on the big screen.  The Winter Soldier leaves Steve Rogers with a friend to rescue, and his own humanity to uncover.  This Cap fan couldn't ask for anything more.

Trouble Man:  Shaft, Foxy Brown, and Black Belt Jones might get more attention, but for my money there is no better example of the blaxploitation genre than Ivan Dixon's Trouble Man.  Robert Hooks is Mr. T, a pool hall fixer hired by Paul Winfield to prevent a ring of thieves from knocking over his clandestine poker games.  Of course, things are not what the seem, and T is framed for a killing he did not commit....and proceeds to commit plenty of other killings to get to the bottom of the inner city mystery.  Robert Hooks is the coolest cat on the planet.  Every line of dialogue is delivered with icy confidence.  Men want to be him, and women want to be with him - I'm sure men would take a shot too if T swung that way.  Ernest as all hell, Trouble Man has no room for your irony.  Criminally underrated, if you want to understand the appeal of blaxploitation look no further than Trouble Man.  And as The Falcon already knows, the Marvin Gaye soundtrack is stellar.

Cheap Thrills:  Brutal.  Ugly.  Gross.  Funny?  Not really.  If you've seen the trailer then you've pretty much already seen the movie.  Pat Healy is a down-on-his-luck husband & father.  He's just days away from eviction, and recently unemployed.  He stumbles into a bar instead of facing the crying baby at home.  There he encounters a former high school friend and a peculiar couple flashing wads of hundred dollar bills for any poor sap to take notice.  Drinks are bought, coke is snorted, and a vile game of Truth or Dare (mostly Dare) ensues.  What starts off as Slap That Waitress for $200 escalates into Chop Off Your Pinky for $15000.  There's not much to it.  Blood.  More blood.  Death.  More death.  You get the idea.  The story feels a little bit like a modern day Roald Dahl short story without the Twilight Zone whimsy.  Not a bad movie, but it left me empty.

Rodan:  Pretty much the same story as Godzilla or Mothra, but instead of a giant lizard or a giant moth you get a giant pterodactyl.  When he appears later in the series, I love, love, love Rodan.  He's a giant hunk of rubber that loves to flap his wings and tear down buildings.  Sometimes he even does it for good!  But for his first outing, I just couldn't find enough unique properties to separate him from his progenitors.  The film starts off with some nifty giant insects, but their terror disappears once the big bad shows up.  This film could have really used some Kaiju on Kaiju action.

Three Days of the Condor:  After listening to the Russo Brothers discuss their influences for The Winter Soldier on the Empire Podcast, I felt like it was high time that I saw this seminal example of espionage cinema.  Robert Redford is a low level CIA analyst who steps out for lunch one day only to return to an office full of corpses.  After contacting the higher ups, Redford flees from Max Von Sydow's trenchcoated assassin and into the arms of Faye Dunaway's passerby.  The thriller aspects of the plot are exceptional, and Von Sydow is as chilling as he is inconspicuous.  However, I have no idea why Dunaway is in this movie.  Is it simply a Hollywood requirement that all films must have a love interest?  She's utterly superfluous, and every moment she's onscreen subtracts from the film's tension.  Other than that, solid flick.

The Raid 2:  This was quite simply the most violent, horrible, disgusting, violent, insane, grotesque, mean-spirited, violent, deplorable, violent, gratuitous, violent, over-long, badass, and violent thing I've ever seen.  Yowza!  Having watched and thoroughly enjoyed the first film, I thought I knew what I was getting myself into.  Instead of an hour and forty minutes of asskicking and bloodshed, there would be two hours and forty minutes of asskicking and bloodshed.  Yeah, that's kinda accurate.  But "bloodshed" doesn't do the film justice.  What spawned from a siege assault action picture bloats into a Godfather/Serpico wannabe in which Iko Uwais's Rama infiltrates the Indonesian underworld by selling his soul to the morally bankrupt police department.  What once took an hour to fight his way out, now takes years.  The film has the slimmest of plot, just an excuse to pause fifteen minutes between bone shattering action set pieces.  And I Loved Every Second Of It.  I cannot believe the film squeaked by with an R rating, and it certainly won't be for the masses, but if you're a fan of blood, guts, and limbs flying action than The Raid 2 is absolutely an essential film watching experience.  You'll be out of breath by the time the credits roll.

3 Dev Adam (aka Turkish Captain America):  "Adios Mafia!"  Here's one that simply needs to be seen to be believed.  A thief dressed in a thrift store Spider-Man costume pillages the rich of Istanbul to sell antiquities to the richer of North America.  This catches the attention of both the American & Mexican government who hire Captain America & Santo to take down the Turkish villain.  At least that's what I think is going on.  It's nearly impossible to discern the plot thanks to incoherent subtitles, and seemingly random plot developments.  What is certain is that 3 Dev Adam is an absolute blast to behold.  Whether it's The Spider's endless deaths, or his terrifying puppet orgasms - this Turkish Captain America has to be one of the best unintentionally funny films I've seen.  Projected from a shoddy VHS, the Alamo Drafthouse delivered the goods for this latest Video Vortex selection, and guaranteed my butt in the seat for whatever the dare to screen next.  Bravo.

Hell Up In Harlem:  "I've got some funerals to attend."  At the end of Black Cesar, Fred Williamson is gunned down in the street by the murderous agents of Whitey.  Dead is Dead?  Yeah right!  Hell Up In Harlem opens with Williams brushing himself off, stumbling into a hospital, and - All Better.  I'm not really a big fan of the original film; it's a rather rudimentary retelling of The Godfather.  However, this sequel?  Jeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzuuuus.  Forget Don Corleone, Hell Up In Harlem is all Scarface, and Fred Williamson is never cooler than when he's looking for a little payback.  And it's a sweet, weird ass revenge.  You've got Pimps vs Ninjas, A Long Island Scuba Assaults, Mammies With Machine Guns, and what might be the longest distance fist fight ever - yeah, it's takes a whole continent for The Hammer to satisfy a beatdown.  But then Williamson quickly finds the show being stolen away from him by Julius Harris as his father gone wrong.  Big Poppa!  He goes from disapproving patriarch to tommy gunning flesh trader.  The transition of character makes absolutely no sense, but it's a whole heap of entertaining.  Hell Up In Harlem comes close to being my favorite blaxploitation film, and it's certainly one of my all time favorite sequels.

Truck Turner:  "She's a middle class broad...and you're one gross son of a bitch."  This is a bizarre movie.  Not the typical black hero vs. white devil, Truck Turner is a vile, cat-piss wearing bounty hunter targeted by a ring of pimps & prostitutes lead by Nichelle Nichols & Yaphet Koto.  Isaac Hayes seems to relish his big chance to spout heinous profanity and commit savage acts of violence.  Truck Turner embraces its exploitation in ways that its contemporaries seem to only scratch the surface.  Sometimes that makes for some uncomfortable bits of awkwardness, but for the willing audience member, that political incorrectness is also Truck Turner's charm.  Where does it stand next to the greats?  Not sure.  Every time I watch this film I forget how gross & weird it is, but I'm now thinking that it's time to put it into a yearly rotation.  It's a trip.

Slaughter:  Trouble Man is numero uno.  Slaughter is a close second.  After his parents are murdered by the mob, Jim Brown's badass cop leaves the badge behind and descends into the hell of Mexico to take down the demons responsible.  Part Dirty Harry, part Death Wish, all Jim Brown - Slaughter is an exceptional example of tough cop cinema.  But every hero needs a great villain, and Slaughter fills that order grotesquely with Rip Torn's rat-faced hitman.  Even when he knows better, he cannot help but spit venom and hate.  Torn would rather die in a wreckage of gasoline & flames then say one last nice word - "Yeah, I did that."  The rest of the film is peppered with a perfect supporting cast: Stella Stevens's mafioso playmate, Don Gordon's sideburned sidekick, Norman Alfe's confusingly afroed kingpin.  An exceptional cast of oddballs, and a leading man of total cool & confidence separate Slaughter from the rest of the pack.

Captain America & Bucky by Ed Brubaker, James Asmus, & Francesco Francavilla:  When a comic book creator is popular that inevitably leads to Spin-Offs! Spin-Offs!  Spin Offs!  Ed Brubaker's Captain America & Bucky series originally started out as another way to explore their WWII past, but quickly transformed into just another Cap book.  I didn't stick around for long.  But since I'm loosing my mind with the star-spangled super hero this month, I thought I would give the series another shot.  At least the trades illustrated by pulp maestro Francesco Francavilla.  Old Wounds revolves around a series of terminator androids leftover from Cap's Invader days.  Robots & Human Torches?  Just perfect for Francavilla's pulp noir style.  The story is so-so, but Francavilla sells it.  Not the highest recommendation, but it's a fun stop on your way to the real gem...

Captain America & Black Widow by Cullen Bunn & Francesco Francavilla:  When Bucky left the Marvel Universe for the second time, this series became a revolving door of Captain America team-ups.  Brubaker is gone, but The Sixth Gun's Cullen Bunn steps in to fill those mighty big clown shoes.  Cap & Black Widow are warped into the wacky concept of multi-universes, and have a series of run-ins with steampunk tripods, Lizard/Doctor Octopus Hybrids, and diabolical doppelgangers.  High art?  No.  But this is exceptionally comic booky!  And it's a shame that Francavilla only had these two tiny arcs to play in the Captain America sandbox.

A Field In England:  "I am my own master."  Three viewings now, and after each one I love this film just a little bit more.  If I was redoing my Top Ten List from last year, A Field In England might even squeak ahead of The World's End, The Act of Killing, & Only God Forgives at this point.  That seems crazy to me in some ways, but this latest Blu Ray addition simply floored me at the end of the week.  I find myself less entranced by the oddity of the film - that Monty Python cast wondering into the madness of HP Lovecraft.  Yeah, that still fits, but with each rewatch I become more and more enamored with Reece Shearsmith's bumbling alchemist and his transformation into a real-deal Solomon Kane.  Ben Wheatley made a couple of solid flicks in Kill List & Sightseers, but I'm starting to see a masterpiece in A Field In England.  I may even rank it up their with Zodiac & The Proposition as one of my very favorite films of the last fifteen years.  There certainly is nothing out there quite like it.

--Brad

Brad's Week In Dork! (3/23/14-3/29/14)

This may have been my Favorite Week of the Year so far.  I'm fully entrenched in Ed Brubaker's Captain America run, and I'm seriously enjoying this mash of espionage & spandex.  It certainly has it's ups and downs, but I can't think of a better example in mainstream comics that expertly balances nostalgia for the Silver Age with proper forward momentum of character (hmmmmm...maybe a case could be made for Grant Morrison's Batman).  It's just a miracle of comics that Brubaker could take a tired concept of Back From The Dead & transform it into gut-wrenching super hero drama.  And then just when you're getting used to the idea of Bucky Barnes - Winter Soldier, they go ahead and kill Steve Rogers!  Yet another eye rolling Dead's Not Dead cliche written to exception.  The arc is not without its irritants, but having now read 2/3rds of Brubaker's Cap, I can safely say that it's my favorite run in all the Marvel Universe.

The Wife has been a busy lady with work & play rehearsals, so I found myself with a lot of time on my hand this week.  We only managed to spend one evening together, and knocked out one film in our Marvel Studios Marathon - The Avengers.  Ah, but what a movie.  Love nearly every second of it.  It brings great giddy gobs of joy to this stunted youth, and it fills my heart with fuzzy warmth since The Wife also squees squishy enthusiasm for Earth's Mightiest Heroes.  She's a real sucker for Team Whedon.  Can't blame her, right?

When I wasn't reading comics or feverishly anticipating next week's The Winter Soldier, I was doing what I do best - watching movies.  Made only two trips to the theater this week, and both to The Alamo.  On Thursday I caught The Grand Budapest Hotel again since the Draft House was giving away Crossed Keys pins.  I'm never one to pass up swag.  And on Friday I caught Arnold Schwarzenegger's latest, Sabotage.  Yeash.  What a pile of steaming...shit.  Can't hide it.  That movie was terrible.  Easily the worst film I've seen in 2014.  Time for Arnie to hang up his boots, retire into the realm of character actor.  Sad to type, but true.  It's certainly time for me to give up on David Ayer.  That guy is simply an atrocious filmmaker.  And speaking of atrocious filmmakers, I saw Lars Von Trier's Nymphomaniac (in the safety of my own home thanks to VOD).  I just don't get this guy.  Shockmeister?  Art fiend?  Provocateur?  Boring, I say.

As much as I want to claim this week for Captain America, probably the biggest event was Wednesday's Godzilla-A-Thon.  Thanks to Co-Dork Matt & Kevin from Big Planet Comics, I was able to knock out a good chunk from my Cinematic Resolutions.  I've still got a few Godzillas to go before the remake hits on May 16th, but I'm feeling more confident that I'll get there now.  Outside of Shat Attacks & Hest Fests, this is the first full day Marathon we've done in years.  Dork Thug Life.  Anyway, enough with this rambling, on to the rest of the mini reviews...

Wattstax:  In 1972, seven years after the Watts Riots, Stax Records held a concert at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum as a means of tragic commemoration and cultural celebration.  Often cited as the African American answer to Woodstock, I'll always choose to spend my time with Rufus Thomas or The Staple Singers over the hippie smoke of The Grateful Dead.  Has there ever been a label as consistent as Stax?  Doubtful.  But this is not simply a concert film.  Director Mel Stuart intercuts the funk with interviews from various Watts citizens, and their words offer a sizzle to the nation's political temperature.  What has been will always be, and as one man says "Somethings are better, somethings are worse, somethings never change."  You can watch the entirety of the film via YouTube, and whether you're craving the cool of The Bar Kays or the wisdom of Richard Pryor, you owe it to yourself to give Wattstax a spin.  At the very least, this film has sent me down a rabbit hole of funk this week.  I've been blasting my car stereo with Johnnie Taylor, Booker T, and James Brown.  Nothing makes you feel cooler at a stoplight than Stax Records.

The Punisher:  "There is a limit to revenge."  I'll always remember the day I forced my parents to swing by Video Library after school to snatch me a VHS copy of Dolph Punisher.  It was the first Direct-To-Video I was ever aware of, and it was my first lesson in harsh cinematic disappointment.  A good bit of training to prepare me for The Phantom Menace.  Doesn't matter how much you love a character, he can let you down.  Dolph Lundgren's Punisher is not really the man you found in the Marvel Comic.  But as I sit here, a 34 year old fanboy, I have to admit that this film gets more right than Thomas Jane's later incarnation.  Dolph Punisher feels like a genuine broken mind.  He's covered in sweat, dirt, and he lives a drunk hobo's lifestyle down in the sewer.  And this is not the clean, eat pizza off the floor kinda sewer often seen in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  No, this is the type of lair where you spit hate at God while you sit naked in your own excrement.  That's pretty much how I want my Punisher.  A psycho.  A killer.  A big F.U. to the government.  Sure, the Yakuza plot is stupid, dumb, and often dull.  But Dolph Punisher is ugly.  I'll take it.

Nymphomaniac Volumes 1 & 2:  "I don't understand this self hatred."  Four hours.  Ugh.  Stellan Skarsgard discovers a beaten-to-a-pulp Charlotte Gainsbourg on his way home from the groceries, and offers her solace in his barren apartment.  There she recounts her life story as a sex addict, a self-loathing but proud Nymphomaniac.  The film really just feels like an excuse for director Lars Von Trier to explore his jollies.  Sadomasochism.  Gang bangs.  Pedophilia.  Udo Kier.  Every kind of sexual degradation. It's all here.  There are moments of humor that had me chuckling.  There are moments of absurdity that had me chuckling.  Mostly though, I was bored.  I keep going back to Von Trier because critics drop his films on Top Tens, and I feel the need to be a part of the conversation.  But outside of some interesting visual trickery, the guy is just not my kind of filmmaker.  Still, I didn't hate this in the same way I did Melancholia.  I just won't ever watch it again.

The Punisher:  Cribbing a few details from Garth Ennis & Steve Dillons's comic, the 2004 version of Marvel's Death Wisher offers a few rays of light, but stumbles into idiocy thanks to some shoddy direction and abysmal acting.  Thomas Jane sure looks the part, but this too-long origin story gives too much sympathy to the character, and attempts to drape a cape over a vigilante rather than portraying a real mental monster.  I understand the temptation.  Marvel Comics = super heroes right?  Not always.  There should be nothing heroic about Frank Castle.  He's a murderer.  He just kills "bad guys."  It's a fine line the comics haven't always understood, but it's weird to me that they chose to snatch from Ennis who so obviously understood Castle's demented desires.  And John Travolta???  Dear god no.  That pipe.  That hair.  That smile.  Chew, chew, chew sir - ya suck.  I do love the brawl with The Russian.  Too bad director Jonathan Hensleigh intercuts it with apartment baffoonery.  Head shake, this Punisher is best left forgotten.

Punisher - War Zone:  "Sometimes I'd like to get my hands on God."  This third try up to bat embraces the exploitation roots of the character, and delivers a violent Lionsgate Horror Show that erupts into a kill crazy crowd pleaser.  Former stuntwoman turned director Lexi Alexander cares little for plot or character development, and simply revels in the violence of Frank Castle's lifestyle.  This is probably the best version of the character we're ever going to get on the silver screen.  Ray Stevenson is a brute.  A man with a hole in his heart, impossible to fill with vengeance, but he'll kill & probably die trying.  Dominic West is LAAAARGER THAN LIFE as mob goon turned super villain Jigsaw, but Doug Hutchinson's little brother is even more fun as he chews through scenery and corpses alike.  Gore Guts Galore.  Heads are chopped, throats are slit, parkour wannabes go BOOM!  Certainly not for everybody, but that's always going to be The Punisher's problem.

Mothra:  "There's no need to fight on a scientific expedition."  A few years after Gojira stomped his way through Tokyo, a scientific expedition crashes on a Lost World and discovers a tribe of giant moth worshipping savages...as well as a couple of teeny tiny sing songy ladies.  A riff on King Kong, Mothra is a perfectly weird trip into Kaiju Kraaazy.  How do you even conceive of this stuff?  A couple of Lilliputians get tired of the showbiz lifestyle and use the power of music to call down a giant moth to typhoon destruction until a smug businessman cries uncle.  WTF Goofy.  I love it.

Mothra vs Godzilla:  When a giant egg washes ashore, and after an evil businessman (those guys again!) lays claim on this obvious moneymaker, those teeny tiny sing songy ladies show up to warn our world of Mothra's rage.  Meanwhile, everyone's favorite mutant dinosaur (is that what he is? I'm still not sure, Godzilla is just Godzilla, right?) emerges from underneath the beach to wreak havoc. The good scientists & reporters of Japan work together to convince the sing songy ladies to pit Mothra against Godzilla and save the world another Kaiju headache.  Their plan more or less works out.  A fun entry in the Godzilla saga, but not nearly as werid as the original Mothra or as fun as some of the other Godzillas we watched Wednesday.

Invasion of Astro-Monster:  Until this movie, I had no idea that the Godzilla series even dealt with outer space, or at least alien civilizations.  Fuji & Glen, a couple of friendly astronauts travel to Planet X and discover a race of man living in fear of the three headed monster, Ghidorah.  A plan is hatched between the two worlds to transport Earth's troubles, aka Godzilla & Rodan, to Planet X where the three monsters will undoubtably fight it out to the death.  Ah, but you should never trust a Planet with an X.  So far, with the exception of the original, this is probably my favorite of the Godzillas I've experienced. I love the introduction of bonkers 60s sci-fi with all those silver space suits and zappy ray guns.

Godzilla vs Megalon:  "If you're so damn clever, why steal our robot?"  If Astro-Monster is my favorite, than Megalon is certainly the most ridiculously cheery.  I had caught bits and pieces of this before from its MST3K ribbing, but frankly, this film does not need commentary to add to its wonderful comic absurdity.  The Undersea Kingdom of Seatopia is fed up with those dwelling above them, and they decide invasion is the only path to happiness.  Seatopia unleashes Megalon onto the poor folks of Japan.  Thankfully a couple of scientists and their kid sidekick have concocted a badass robot called Jet Jaguar, and this Ultraman knockoff is ready for a showdown.  And of course, Godzilla is now living peacefully on Monster Island and is always ready to help out the good people.  And then Gigan shows up to the party.  There is a whole lot of mondo plot going on in this film, and I could barely keep up with all the whacky and hilarious destruction.  Godzilla vs Megalon is simply a joy to watch.  Just what you expect and want from a Kaiju film.

Terror of Mechagodzilla:  "Even if you're a cyborg, I love you!"  Apparently this picks up immediately after Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla, but since that film seems impossible to find at the moment, I just had to go with it...not too hard really...while attempting to salvage the wreckage of Mechagodzilla, a Japanese submarine is assaulted by a Kaiju called Titanasaurus.  This beasty is apparently controlled by an evil scientist named Shinzo Mafune.  The mad doc is determined to destroy man with the help of not just his robot daughter, but the alien simians responsible for the construction of Mechagodzilla.  Thankfully man has the OG on his side, Godzilla comes to the rescue handing both baddies their rubber asses.  Fun, but maybe not as much as Megalon or as weird as Astro-Monster.

The Grand Budapest Hotel:  I keep looking at my Top Ten List from last year.  If The Grand Budapest Hotel had come out a few months earlier, would it have taken down Only God Forgives as my favorite? Hmmmm...hard to say.  I could just be riding high off this very fresh feeling of Movie Joy.  Ralph Fiennes is certainly the star of the show, and 90% of my Budapest love is due to his obscene gentlemen, but the emotional beats are won from F Murray Abraham's brief screentime.  His eyes.  They pierce, but in a very soft way.  Willem Dafoe's werewolf monster killer - jesus - Wes Anderson proves he can be scary as much as whimsical.  The Grand Budapest Hotel is all over the map, but in a very, very, very good way.  I see myself hitting the theater at least one more time for another rewatch.

Sabotage:  To quote Roger Ebert, I hated, hated, hated this movie.  Was The Last Stand more uninspired?  Sure.  Was Escape Plan more dull?  Absolutely.  But Arnold Schwarznegger's Sabotage is just straight up terrible storytelling.  Is Mr Universe to blame?  No.  I actually appreciate the attempt at something different here.  This is the kind of dark role Arnie should be doing.  But writer/director David Ayer must be stopped.  His constant abuse of law enforcement is more than just tiring, it's gross and hateful.  His obvious reliance on improvised tough guy acting is laughable.  Hey Sam Worthington, Terrence Howard, Mireille Enos - SHUT UP!  You guys are not badasses.  You're lame wannabes, and your performances are as about as strong as hide & seek during recess.  The film does not get interesting until the last five minutes, when Arnold ventures down into Mexico for some cowboy revenge.  Ditch the tough act, start the film there, and maybe, just maybe you'd have a fun movie.  Probably not though, as Ayer attempts to squeeze blood from an orange - fails every time.

Red Sonja:  Wow.  This movie is bad.  As a kid I watched it a lot.  When I was tired of Conan The Barbarian, and I couldn't suffer Conan The Destroyer, I watched Red Sonja.  I can't do it anymore.  This film is just too, too bad.  Not even in that fun, enjoyably crappy kinda way.  After the shite of Sabotage, I was craving an Arnie from a better era, and since Red Sonja is technically the second big screen Marvel Comics adaptation (she first appeared in Marvel's Conan the Barbarian #23) it seemed like the appropriate pick.  I was wrong.  It did nothing for me.  A head shake here, an eye roll there.  Brigitte Nielsen may have the sexiest she-mullet around, but her acting chops are about as strong as wood - AND! that's saying something since she's standing next to Arnold's lackluster Conan thievery.  Nostalgia lost this round.

Captain America Lives! by Ed Brubaker & Various:  After Steve Rogers is assassinated on the courthouse steps (thanks to the event's of Mark Millar's Civil War), James Barnes, Nick Fury, Sharon Carter, Tony Stark, and Sam Wilson race to catch the man responsible...of course, it all leads back to The Red Skull.  Brubaker weaves a complicated perfectly comic booky plot involving time travel, mind control, and cold war secrecy.  In the absence of Steve Rogers, Fury & Stark manipulate Barnes to take up the shield and I'm still thinking that Bucky Cap might simply be my favorite star-spangled asskicker.  His adventures with the Shield not only pit him against Rogers's greatest enemies, but also the dark mirror of the crazed 1950s Captain America Clone.  All very silly stuff on four color paper, but Brubaker makes it all work.  There's as much character development as plot, and when the inevitable road to Reborn starts, you're actually dreading the retcon.  When I first read the Reborn event in singles, I pretty much hated it, but on this readthrough, I found myself incredibly engaged with the literal Man Out Of (or Stuck In) Time story.  Bryan Hitch's art is obviously glorious with its widescreen action, and sock-knocking splash pages.  Dr Faustus, Arnim Zola, Crossbones, and Sin - Daughter of Red Skull.  These are some pretty silly shenanigans, but Captain America is never more badass when he's in the hands of Ed Brubaker.  Absolutely Essential Comic Book Reading.

The Avengers:  To quote myself, I love, love, love this movie.  From the "I'm Always Angry" to Cap's reflection of Iron Man's repulsors, to "There's Only One God And He Doesn't Dress Like That," and Thanos's courting of death.  Joss Whedon and Team Marvel get everything right about their Justice League.  And I'm sure all you out there are tired of us fanboys praising the miracle of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.  I'm sorry to all you non-believers, but we're just over-the-moon in love with The Avengers.  We've suffered decades of Made for TVs, Direct-to-Videos, and bonehead adaptations.  Now is our time.  We're gonna be jerks about it.  Phase One is complete.  Seems like the world is Marvel's Oyster, but have they fully utilized it with Iron Man 3 & Thor 2?  I'll be rewatching those very soon, and I dig em, I really do, but Guardians of the Galaxy seems like it's going to be the real test for fanboy love.  Will everyone show up for the talking raccoon?  Are they ready for Ant-Man?  Time will tell.  I'm loving what they've accomplished so far, and I have faith.

--Brad

Dork Art: Escape From New York

I'm about halfway through my Martin Scorsese-a-thon and I'm already thinking that John Carpenter is gonna be my next director obsession.  Having devoured They Live twice already this year, and thumping my car stereo with the Assault on Precinct 13 soundtrack, my brain is simply ready for his pop cowboy aesthetic.  Anyway, it's late at night and I just stumbled upon this kickass dork art from Big Ode Ideias.  Bravo sir, you gotta em all in there.

--Brad

Two Fistfuls of Oscars! (Brad's Picks)

Tomorrow's the big night, and I find myself really excited for the main event.  Why is that?  It probably has to do with the fact that this is the first year I've seen the most nominated films (just missing a few technical awards, one documentary feature, and most of the shorts).  And as stated in my Predictions & Desires, the 2013 Best Picture race is one of the strongest - these are some solid flicks, only a couple I really have no mind for (Les Miserables & Life of Pi) and even those flicks are not the bottom of the barrel.  I've seen worst films take home the bald gold guy -- see my Top Five least favorite Best Picture winners just below, but just when I start crying in my beer I find some hope in my Top Five favorite Best Picture winners cuz even an awards ceremony as incestuous and pretentious as The Academy Awards gets in right every once in while.

5.  The Greatest Show On Earth:  This is not a terrible film.  It's just long winded, lifeless, and empty.  This represents that era in filmmaking when if you made it long enough and packed enough stars into the frame than you had a hit on your hands.  Great gobby melodrama centering around Charlton Heston's circus manager, his trapeze artist girlfriend, and escaped convict Jimmy Stewart as Buttons the Clown - in what has to be one of his most annoying performances.  Cecil B DeMille pads the movie with endless tent raising sequences that are pornographic in their circus people enthusiasm.  Only die hard fans of Heston or Stewart need apply.

4.  Rain Man:  Another not terrible movie, but Rain Man paved the way for sentimental tripe like Driving Miss Daisy and Forrest Gump.  Tom Cruise definitely excels at playing the douche bag brother of autistic method man Dustin Hoffman, but his smiley jerkhole transformation into the kind hearted lover of Valeria Golino is eye-rollingly saccharine.  A supposed message movie?  Yeah, don't think so.

3.  Titanic:  Now here is a movie I hate.  In 1996 James Cameron was the king of genre fanboys.  The man was responsible for the brutal time travel violence of The Terminator, two of the greatest science fiction sequels (Aliens & T2), Arnold Schwarzenegger's last badass film (True Lies), and the Michael Crichtonesque CGI wizardry of The Abyss.  And I was one of his blind followers.  But by the end of 1997 the Emperor was revealed to have no clothes.  And I was lost.  Titanic might have captured the passions of teenage girls everywhere, and confused a couple of critics, but hindsight has certainly been unkind to this epic pile of Teen Beat blather.  Two appalling poor boy stereotypes con their way onto the doomed cruiser and before they meet their watery demise, the pretty kid falls madly in love with the painfully cliche snooty girl.  It's all just biding time until Cameron's magicians unleash holy hell upon the damned and the audience is granted nearly an hour of beautiful devastation...and Billy Zane stumbling about firing his limp pistol.  But somehow James Cameron would fool us all again with Avatar, but at least that Fern Gully abortion never took home Oscar.

2.  Chicago:  I don't really have much to say on this one.  I just don't get it.  Sure, musicals have never been my thing (unless we're talking The Blues Brothers), but even in 2002 when cinema seemed to be at its most bleak, there were far superior films compared to this shallow glitz.  About Schmidt.  The Quiet American.  Adaptation.  Swimfan....uh...  The only reason I can think that this took home Best Picture is because Academy voters were saddened by the previous year's failing to award Moulin Rouge - another film I don't quite get, but recognize as a far greater achievement in originality than this bland broadway adaptation.  And Richard Gere?  You must never sing again.  You too Catherine Zeta Jones.  And let's just gag Renee Zellweger while we're at it.

1.  Crash:  When I think Oscar bait, I think Crash.  A film manipulated with both literal and metaphorical crashes of humanity.  Whites.  Blacks.  Latinos.  Rich.  Poor.  All racist.  And when forced to interact with each other they must face the best and worst of themselves.  Just gross writing.  In a year that also saw nominations for Capote, Goodnight & Good Luck, Munich, and Brokeback Mountain the win for Crash was a slap in the face of good taste.  A heinous, condescending picture populated with struggling stars of yesteryear.  This win in 2005 pretty much cemented my contempt for award shows, and I stayed away from the Oscars till 2011 - the year Matt & I started this blog.

So yeah, that's the suck of Oscar.  But when you look at the previous 84 films labeled Best Picture, the majority of them are damn fine movies.  Sure, maybe not the best films of their chosen years, but most of them are not Crash.  Most of them are Out of Africa, perfectly crafted dramas worthy of attention and some of them are Lawrence of Arabia, genuine masterpieces.  Warning:  Lawrence of Arabia does not appear in my Top Five Best Picture winners, it's genius, but it's also not my personal favorite David Lean film.

5.  The Godfather:  What can I possibly add to the Godfather lovefest?  It's a brilliant picture.  Obviously.  And it's melodrama, like Titanic.  Only expertly written and brimming with traumatic surprises inflicted upon it's characters.  Some pick the sequel over the original, but for my money, the first film is just a cleaner, crisper fall from grace.  Al Pacino was never better and would never be better than he was as Michael Corleone, the youngest son desperately trying to stay free from the family business and eventually succumbing to a world of violence.

4.  The French Connection:  Gene Hackman is a bastard.  His pitbull detective nearly destroys everything and everyone around him as he chases the trail of a narcotic ring, his victory seeming meaningless next to the hunt.  It's an extremely pessimistic tale, but quintessential of 70s filmmaking and it represents an attitude sorely missed in contemporary Hollywood.  Although, fingers crossed, mean movies will retake their hold on American audiences.

3.  The Bridge on the River Kwai:  Like the age old battle between Beatles & Stones fans, you're either a Lawrence of Arabia guy or a River Kwai man.  Obviously, I appreciate the necessary destruction of pride and the jungle horrors of Japanese death camps.  William Holden is the definition of dogged determination as the escaped GI willing & ready to lead a commando deathsquad back into the horrors of Thailand.  But it's Alec Guinness' stubborn S.O.B. officer that steals the show, and I'm always struck by his righteous realization in the last few moments.  This is pain.  This is regret.  This is madness.

2.  Casablanca:  I saw Casablanca late in life.  About six years ago.  Due to its "classic" status I had always avoided the film as not possibly living up to its reputation.  I was wrong.  Casablanca is a classic for a reason.  It's a love story.  But not really.  It's a love-long-gone story.  And as such it's all about loss.  Humphrey Bogart manages to ooze anger and anguish while still looking badass in a white suit.  Claude Raines is the ultimate lackey.  And when I think Nazi I now see Conrad Veidt instead of the palm scarred Toht.   It might have spawned a dozen catchphrases, but Casablanca earns every soundbite sting.

1.  Unforgiven:  I'm not sure if Unforgiven was the first Western I ever saw, but it most certainly was the first Western I remember seeing.  I was 13 at the time.  The perfect age.  Not only does it cast off John Wayne types, but it goes for the throat on characters that Eastwood himself had portrayed - Josey Wales, The Man With No Name - these are murders, not heroes.  Unforgiven reminds us of this fact; it's a film disgusted with violence and violent characters.  It tricks you into sympathizing with a killer and pulls the rug out from you in its final saloon shootout.  Just as Reservoir Dogs sent this budding film fan into VHS stores to collect Hong Kong actioners, Unforgiven sent me diving into Howard Hawkes and Sergio Leone.  For that alone, it will remain a personal treasure.

--Brad