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

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

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

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

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

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

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

P.S. I'm growing a beard!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (7/21/13-7/27/13)

    A slow start, but a nice finish.  Good week.

Red 2:  Not quite as cute or charming as the first film, this sequel still dishes out morbid humor and silly action aplenty.  Everyone seems to be having a good time, and they sure go to a lot of nice places.  But the tension never quite ratchets up, and the plot feels a bit too meandering.  Still, not a bad sequel and worth watching if you enjoyed the first film.

MST3K: The Incredible Melting Man:  “Don’t shoot!  I’m Ted Nelson!”  One of my favorite episodes, Mike and the Bots rip into a truly dreadful movie.  Another ‘guy goes into space and comes back a monster’ movie.  It’s great.  They’re all on fire as they unload with both barrels.

Your Highness:  “Just punch the top and twist it.”  A very, very crass fantasy film about a crappy prince and his dashing brother on a quest to rescue a pretty girl from a devil wizard, it‘s often uncomfortably funny.  Pot smoking, butt sexing, and all kinds of goofing.  Great actors team up with not so great actors to abuse decency.  And I love it.

Night Passage:  Jimmy used to be bad, but now he just wants to play the accordion and maybe work for the railroad.  But he’s got a history and history has a way of creeping up on you.  There’s nothing especially amazing about this Western, but it’s solid and well made.  Nice character actors and a good action resolution.  Worth checking out.

River of No Return:  I just don’t go for Marilyn Monroe, and that’s a large part of what this movie is pushing.  She’s charming enough, I guess.  And Robert Mitchum is nicely terse.  Their adventure together doesn’t break a lot of new ground, but it’s good clean fun.  That is, until the attempted rape (“I didn‘t mean it.”  What?!).  The blue-screen work, though.  She ain’t so good.  Overall, a good but not great Western.

    I read the current issue of the magazine Classic Images, because it had an extensive article on one of my new favorite classic actresses, Ruth Chatterton.  Annoyingly, many of the movies the article picked out as being especially good are not on NetFlix and are going to require deeper searching and perhaps pocket digging.  There was also a good write-up on the recently deceased character actor R.G. Armstrong.  It prompted me to queue up a few more of his films, and kept my Western thing alive (I’ve been on a bit of a Western kick lately…though I’m not gonna try to do an official month or anything).

Queen Christina:  “Must we live for the dead.”  A bawdy tale of a tomboy queen who loves her country, desires peace, and wants to love on her own terms.  But duty drives.  Garbo exudes life, lusty and joyous.  The sequence at the inn, with the shared room, the discovery, and the aftermath are totally worth the price of admission.  And my goodness, somehow she makes eating grapes look like the most intensely sexually charged act.  It felt like something too intimate to be watching.  Crazy.  Though the overall movie isn’t amazing, it’s a very fun film.  I wish there was more to the third act, I guess.  I don’t know.  Events just sort of happen and then it’s over, without much heart.  But the first two thirds of the film are great.

    Friday night we ended up using a kind of fill-in book for our graphic novel club, Locke & Key, which was pretty last minute and surprisingly seemed to win everyone over.  This marks only the second time (I think), where everyone was in agreement and happy with the book (the first was Blacksad).

Bridget Jones’s Diary:  “Oh f*%$ I love Keats.”  A cute romantic comedy about several broken people struggling through love.  There’s nothing especially new or interesting, but the cast is charming and there are some good bits.  I appreciate the liberal F-bomb dropping.  One thing that is perhaps a bit disturbing is that Jones is supposed to be/feel fat.  I remember a lot was made of Renee Zellweger putting on weight for the role.  But she looks perfectly normal.  Not plump.  Just normal.  If she were any thinner, she’d look weird.

Disgusting. She must be an almost healthy weight. For shame.

Nick Carter: Master Detective:  A short, fairly uneventful mystery about saboteurs at an aviation plant, this is more fun as a time capsule of a paranoid era when all foreign people were trying to destroy America.  Vague, unnamed organizations with evil on the mind and limitless resources and personnel have infiltrated…well everything.  Nobody can be trusted…except maybe old, creepy beekeepers.

The Incredible Burt Wonderstone:  “Nope…You’re a dude.”  There are some very funny bits in this mostly by the numbers comedy.  Nothing especially shocking or new, but an OK outing for all the cast, who seem to be having a fun time.  Jim Carry hams it up, as usual, and I could have dealt with about 60% less of his character.  Otherwise it was fine.

    On Saturday night, Lisa, Brad, and I headed to the AFI Silver to see Phantasm and Phantasm II (yeah, I’ve seen Phantasm II on the big screen…I can honestly say I never expected that to be a thing I could say).  The first film was presented by local celebrity movie presenter and commentator Count Gore De Vol.  Much fun was had.

Phantasm:  It doesn’t get a heck of a lot weirder than Phantasm.  Not just because it’s a horror movie that’s really a science fiction movie…maybe.  Not just because it features rabid jawas, flying spheres with drills and blades, a stripper-hooker who might also be a cold hating Tall Man, a giggling old seer, a kick-ass ice cream man, and a tuning fork dimensional gateway.  No, not just for those things.  It’s also so jarringly edited and aggressively scored that it never lets you rest, never lets you get your bearing, and never lets you in on quite what the hell is going on.  And it’s great.  The music is completely over the top, the acting ranging from stiff to wooden, and the story…well, it’s complicated.  But somehow, it all works when it really has no right to.  I’ve mentioned this before, but if the stars are right, Cthulhu walks the Earth, and we have become as the Old Ones (read: a shift in reality big enough to put me in control of a Hollywood motion picture), Phantasm is one of the properties I would absolutely love to get my grubby little hands on (along with Hellraiser and The Creature from the Black Lagoon).  Reggie, man.  Reggie.

Phantasm II:  The sequel has some issues, but is still quite cool.  Part of the charm of this series is its rampant continuity confusion, and this film has it aplenty.  But the wacky editing is gone, making the film less uncomfortable and challenging.  The idea of the Tall Man and his dwarfs is expanded a bit, and the hints of a greater, growing disaster facing the world begin to drop (laying the groundwork for III and IV).  Reggie takes up the mantle of badassery.  And the music continues to be a major part of the experience.  Overall, not as good as the first film, though it is more professionally made and of more consistent quality.

Reggie's makin' friends.

    That’s about it.  Still listening to a bunch of Prog Rock.  Still poking at the Bible and trying to get more reading in.

-Matt