Dork Hero: Cary Grant

Growing up on classic films, few actors could stand next to Cary Grant when it came to embodying the Golden Age of Hollywood.  Sure, my favorite actor since I was a boy has been Humphrey Bogart, but I think it's because I feel myself reflected in him, I can relate to him.  Cary Grant, I don't relate to, not really.  I look up to, I want to be, but I don't see myself reflected in him.  I see an idealized version of me, maybe.


"Everyone wants to be Cary Grant.  Even I want to be Cary Grant." -Cary Grant

Obviously, the man is among the most handsome men to ever be put on film, but handsome only goes so far.  Grant has a humor and a charm that elevate him to what we think of when we think 'movie star.'  And he's a fascinating guy, an engineered persona that he sort lived until it became real.

And he followed one of the oldest pieces of advice for any showman.  He left us wanting more.  Still a relatively young man, he retired and lived out the rest of his days doing what he pleased, I suppose.  There are photos of him as an older man, going to events, on the street, with his child.  But he never did another movie after Run, Don't Walk.  Part of me laments the lack of great Old Man Grant performances.  But then, in that day, how many great roles would there have been?  No need to dwell on what might have been, because we have what was, and it is a heck of a body of work.

So, go check out some of the great Cary Grant films; North by Northwest, His Girl Friday, Holiday, Only Angels have Wings, Charade, or any number of others.  I'm not gonna say every film he was in was gold, but the lion's share were darned entertaining.  So, celebrate one of the titans of film, one of the greatest movie stars of all time, by just watching his movies.  The man may be dead, but Cary Grant lives on.

=Matt

Matt’s Week in Dork! (8/10/14-8/16/14)

    A light week on movies.  Actually, kinda light on everything dork related.  Didn’t even finish any books or read any comics.  No real excuse.  Just busy with other things.

Guardians of the Galaxy:  A fun second viewing.  That’s pretty much how I’d describe this film.  Fun.  It’s wild and weird and goofy.  Great soundtrack, crowd pleasing, humorous, and adventurous.  A good time at the theater.

Speed Racer:  I’ve ranted about this film time and again.  I love it.  As a Kung Fu film, as a family film, as a Technicolor mad-machine of weirdness.  Not for the hipster.  Not for the cynic.  For those with hearts open.  Awesome.

To Be or Not To Be:  I just couldn’t get into this film.  There are some funny bits, and some sad bits.  And I know it was largely about facing the demons so many European refugees faced when fleeing the Nazis.  So, to a degree, I feel bad about not giving a crap.  Of the Ernst Lubitsch films I’ve seen so far, this was by far the weakest.

    In my ongoing quest to destroy and rebuild Ben’s psyche into a film ubermensch, I subjected him to the film equivalent of psychotropic drugs, Beyond the Black Rainbow.  I always feel like I’ve done my job when he says some permutation of “that’s the weirdest movie I’ve seen.”  So, success!

Beyond the Black Rainbow:  One weird-ass movie.  An homage to all those awesome, late 70s/early 80s sci-fi/horror films by the likes of John Carpenter and David Cronnenberg, it’s unsettling and odd.  It’s one of my favorite films of recent years, in part because it captures so well the feel of the movies I loved and was scared of when I was a lad.

Ironclad: Battle For Blood:  Ugh.  This features some of the most egregious abuse of shaky-cam footage I’ve ever seen.  And that’s saying something.  The script, the acting, the everything.  It sucks.  I’m all for medieval movies, even on a low budget, but this is cheap.  But at least there’s a scene where a guy gets raped, and the movie seems to be saying it was a good thing and he liked it.

You got red on you.

    Saturday, Rebecca and I headed into DC, where we grabbed a quick bite to eat at Shake Shack.  Then headed over to the National Portrait Gallery to watch Buster Keaton’s College, featuring Andrew Greene accompanying on the piano.  It was an excellent showing, with a good and varied crowd.  DC continues to be full of surprises and wonderful little opportunities.  On the way back, I did a bit of exploring, taking the Blue Line out to Old Town Alexandria, then a bus back home.  I found a few places I’d like to check out, but overall that corridor seems to be pretty bland.

College:  If you can get past the scene where Buster Keaton does blackface, which is…um…pretty awful, this movie is extremely enjoyable.  It’s cute, with lots of darned fine physical comedy.  Buster Keaton has a weird sort of deadpan charm that makes him oddly loveable, even when he’s being a bumbling dolt.

    By chance, I tuned in to TCM and caught their Essentials film of the week, a Hitchcock thriller I’d been wanting to see for some time, Foreign Correspondent.

Foreign Correspondent:  Solid Hitchcock, with all the clever dialog, tension, and paranoia.  I love the cast, with even thugs being played by excellent folks.  Beautifully shot, as usual.  Though about WWII, it feels very Cold War to me.  But then, as it takes place before war is declared, I guess that makes sense.  The finale is really crazy.

Brothers Five:  Plenty of fighting and camera zooms in this enjoyable, if slightly silly, Kung Fu fighter.  Cheng Pei-Pei gathers five lost brothers to avenge their father’s death.  There’s a lot of weapon fighting in this one, which I like.  And there are some pretty darned cool bits.  There are better films from the Shaw Brothers, but this one is pretty good.

    That’s pretty much it.  Though I have been listening to a lot of David Bowie.  Loaded up Low, Space Oddity, Hunky Dory, and Aladdin Sane.  Good stuff.

-Matthew J. Constantine

Matt’s Week in Dork! (12/8/13-12/15/13)

    We Dorks are hardcore.  Mother Nature don’t scare us.  On Sunday night we headed to the Alamo, ‘cause no snow/ice storm is gonna stop us.  That began a rather beastly week for me, though.  Not a lot of sleep was had.  But I had some fun, and that’s what counts in this life.

Shadow of a Doubt:  Though by no means one of the greats in Hitchcock’s filmography, this tale of corruption sneaking into the innocence of small town America is quite charming.  Joseph Cotton is excellent as the charming, but twisted relative who comes to town, full of secrets and bile.  Childhood illusions are shattered and family is tested.  Again, it’s not amazing.  But it’s plenty good.

Design for Living:  This movie struck my fancy so much a few weeks back that I forced co-Dork Brad and his wife to watch it.  I can’t say enough good about its delightfully cheeky and dirty, pre-Code humor.  The actors are all fun to watch and the ending isn’t something that would have possible a few years later.

    Eat it, Nature.  Sweet Smell of Success wasn’t going to be missed because of a little ice.  Lisa, Brad, and I headed out to the Alamo to see this classic.  Sadly, others weren’t so brave.  Great movie that should be seen.

Sweet Smell of Success:  Mean dialog gets tossed around as a bunch of human sharks churn the water in a blood-frenzy of yellow journalism.  The exploits of a vicious little shit as he tries to stay alive in the skuzzy world of New York’s social/political scene.  Nobody is safe from the acid tongue of Burt Lancaster’s Walter Winchell inspired media monster.  Least of all his lapdog, Tony Curtis.

    On Tuesday night, Brad, Lisa, and myself were at the Alamo again.  This time for an advanced screening of American Hustle.  Another good time out at the movies with good company.

I was ready for some 70s fun.

American Hustle:  The 70s come alive in this tonally confusing con-artist flick.  From laugh-out-loud scenes, the film frequently descends into violence haunted threat.  There were moments where a facial expression would make me guffaw, only to expect that the next door to open might have bullets behind it.  The movie constantly feels like it’s going darker than it ever does, but that might even make the laughs that much stronger, that much more nervous.  The actors do a fine job, with Christian Bale and Amy Adams particularly impressing me.  And this is easily the best Jeremy Renner has ever been.  The music was excellent, and like the production design, not as gimmicky as the trailers led me to believe.

Fast Five: What’s big, sweaty, homoerotic, stupid, and wicked awesome?  Fast Five!  For me this is still the first film in the franchise, and I have no particular desire to explore the earlier films.  This heist epic features some of the most excellent stupid dialog, ultra-sincere family talk, and baby oil covered Rock ever committed to film.  I still can not express the surprise I have in myself for loving this movie as much as I do.  It’s one of the most stupidly fun things I’ve watched in a long time, and I have a smile on my face for most of its 2+ hour runtime.

    Wednesday night brought the monthly graphic novel club meeting, and the slings and arrows I’d been anticipating.  I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to be the only person who didn’t like Saga, and I was right.  The other opinions ranged from OK to great, but only I stood as a voice of hate.  And I do hate it so very much.  To me, it’s like country music or The Big Bang Theory.  I know that people like it, but I can’t figure out why.

    Thursday night, and another advanced screening.  This time, Brad and I headed into DC, to E-Street for the newest Coen Brothers movie.  I like trips into the city, especially via Metro train.  People watching is fun.  A good time all round.

Inside Llewyn Davis:  The Coen Brothers sure can spin entertaining and painful yarns about losers.  In the early 1960s, a folk singer and professional loafer is running out of couches to sleep on, out of money, and out of options.  But fate seems determined to teach him a lesson about responsibility.  There are scenes of powerful emotion, be it sadness or mirth.  And there’s a lot of that certain something that brings bent people like me back to the Coen Brothers again and again.

    After all of that, I needed to sleep.  Friday night, I was planning to come home and watch a movie (as always).  Instead, I stared at the wall for a few hours and passed out.  Probably for the best.  And with no plans Saturday, I was able to catch up on my viewing, anyway.

Passion:  Fresh from Cinemax circa 1992 comes this bland, awkwardly forced, sexually semi-charged thriller wannabe about corporate climbers who (we’re told) are really good at their job, but must backstab, betray, and murder their way to success.  They wear business suits and have meetings.  They have video chats and worry over getting that position in New York, so they must be upwardly mobile young women.  And there’s sexual tension.  I know there’s sexual tension, because the movie won’t stop saying it’s there (thankfully, because it would have gone unnoticed otherwise).  None of the characters are well thought out, and why they’re doing what they’re doing is vague at best.  And it all leads to a silly, bordering on offensively dumb ending.  Like Sam Raimi, I feel like De Palma is stuck in his ‘glory days,’ unable to grow as a director, unable to look beyond his once fresh sense of style.  That might be OK if the scripts were better.  But this would be Hitchcock script wouldn’t make the grade in a 70s porno without adding several more visits from the pizza delivery guy.  De Palma, come on.  Some part of me still enjoys the throw-back gimmicks, but you’ve got to do better.  A lot better.  The lady ballet dancer is quite cute, so the movie isn’t a total loss.

Jayne Mansfield’s Car:  A bunch of broken, sad people try to deal with their life and their sorrow.  The whole picture is shadowed by the wars of the 20th century and how each generation dealt with and thought of war.  It’s a great ensemble cast with especially strong performances from Billy Bob Thornton (who also directed and co-wrote), Kevin Bacon, and Robert Patrick as three WWII vets, each with his own war related demon.  It’s a family drama, with lots of awkward humor and fun little twists on expectation.  At the end of the day, I don’t think I connected with the movie as much as I’d have liked.  I think perhaps seeing it in a theater might have helped me be more captured by the glaring Southern Sun and the Vietnam era production design.  But a solid film, if not one I was especially enamored with.

The Living Skeleton:  Uh…OK.  So this movie is steeped in the gimmicky silliness of William Castle, and the moody noirishness of Val Lewton, but with the script of an American International Vincent Price vehicle.  And while that all sounds great, it doesn’t turn out as amazing as it should.  I liked the film, and there are some cool, creepy bits.  But by the end, I was having a devil of a time trying to figure out who anyone was, what they were doing, why they were doing it, and generally what the hell was going on.  It was kitchen sink storytelling, and when the mad scientist appeared…with no foreshadowing, I might add…I spent the rest of the film scratching my head.  Still, the lead actress, Kikko Matsuoka was quite pleasing to the eyes in a sort of Connery-era Bond Girl way (edit: she actually did appear in You Only Live Twice, apparently).

Winter’s Bone:  “Is this gonna be our time?”  Hillbillies got no money, mo problems.  The uglier side of mountain man poverty, drug abuse, crime and such.  Dumb people living small little lives of petty villainy and tainted hope.  The movie is well made, but these people are so pathetic and awful I have a hard time getting in their corner.  I’ve never much enjoyed the company of the terminally ignorant.  The actors do a good job, especially John Hawkes.  But I still found it all unpleasant to sit with for a couple hours.

Movie 43:  It definitely isn’t as consistently good as The Kentucky Fried Movie, or even Amazon Women on the Moon, but this sketch comedy movie does have its moments.  I think the trouble is that the humor is a bit too one-note.  Every sketch is pretty much just a variation on a gross-out bit.  Some of them are really good (neck-balls), others not so much (first period).  A weird number and variety of actors show up in small rolls.  Some are the sorts who will do anything that comes along, but others are A-listers with agents who normally keep them out of stuff like this, and that gives the movie a bit of extra awkward charm.

Genocide:  Atomic bombs and killer insects.  Trouble all around.  Like the other Shochiku horror films, this movie is all over the map, pretty wacky, and ultimately, not all that good.  The insect world is apparently annoyed with our constant fighting, and while it wouldn’t mind us killing ourselves off, it’s afraid we might take it with us.  So, all the world’s bugs are gonna take us out before we can do it to them.  I guess.  While some of the wacky ideas and scenes might be worth lifting for a better film, the overall piece never goes as crazy as it could or as interesting as it should.

    So, that was about it.  Along the way, I started putting some thought and effort into my plans for January, where I’m going to try to finally get an RPG up and running.  I’m still hungry for some Ars Magica, but I’ve got plenty of other games that could and should be a great deal of fun.  I’ll be very curious to see what everyone else will be into.

-Matt

Dork Art: Oscars Legends

The Hero Complex gallery is gearing up to launch their Oscars Legends series this weekend.  Rather than showcasing this year's nominations, the gallery will focus on the Academy's past glories.  You've got your typical stuff like 2001 and Chinatown, but it's the spotlight on Bram Stoker's Dracula and The Incredibles that really got me smiling.  For more artwork and further info click on over to Slash Film.

--Brad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--Brad