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

For the last two years, Matt & I have been constructing a list of our Favorite Films.  My personal Top Ten came to me quick & easy; those films have ranked as my all time favorites for several years.  My Top Twenty was a little tougher to crack, but I got their after minimal struggle.  However, formulating my Top Thirty Favorite Films was downright brutal.  A couple of them sprung to mind (#s 21 & 30 were obvious), but I spent several hours over the course of this week pursuing my DVD shelves, selecting & rejecting various movies for whatever reason.  I Love All Of These Films...and so much more.  I cannot guarantee you in a week, let alone a year, that this list will remain - How can The Monster Squad not be in my Top 30 Favorite Films!?!?!  That seems ridiculous to me, but a fact nonetheless.  So take the ranking below with a grain of salt.  I love 'em, but my confidence is not as strong as it was for Movies 1-20.

30.  King Kong (Merian C Cooper & Ernest B Shoedsack, 1933):  Monster movies, this is where it all began.  Frankly, I love all three versions of this movie, as well as the crappy sequels & the Hong Kong knockoffs.  King Kong is one of those rare movies (maybe the only movie) that I'd like to see remade every decade or so, and I find myself positively giddy over the upcoming Skull Island.  It's delightfully simplistic, and eternally relevant.  "It was beauty that killed the beast." This is the ultimate Man Fucks Over Nature story.  We see something beautiful, dangerous, AWEsome and we've gotta have it - even if that means destroying it in the process.  A terribly sad movie, but also one filled with wonder and exceptional cinematic craft.  No King Kong means no Ray Harryhausen, which means no Steven Speilberg, George Lucas, Joe Dante, etc - which means one crappy childhood for this guy.

29.  In The Mouth of Madness (John Carpenter, 1995):  This was the first Horror movie I ever saw in the theater.  Hellraiser was the film that sparked an interest in the genre, and that film led me to the works of Clive Barker & Stephen King.  I remember vividly when I caught the trailer for In The Mouth of Madness on TV, and the Stephen King namecheck immediately peaked an interest.  Who is Sutter Kane?  The concept of a world driven mad by Fiction, was both terrifying & infuriating.  It's a plot spit forth from the mouths of your parents, your teachers, your politicians.  Horror will rot your brain, kids.  Sam Neil has never been better, and his journey from dismissive suit to screaming believer is utterly unsettling.  He steps into frame thinking he's Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity, a cocky insurance investigator bored of the game, but a "chance" encounter with an axe-wielding madman sends him scurrying down dark alleys populated by unnamable horrors.  If you're reading this blog post than you already know how this film had an impact on both Matt & myself.  It introduced me to John Carpenter & HP Lovecraft - after such an encounter how can one not become a full fledged horror fiend?

28.  Die Hard (John McTiernan, 1988):  There is simply no better action film.  A good, but flawed man fights his way through a slew of bad men in an effort to reunite with true love.  And all set to the backdrop of the Ho-Ho-Holidays.  The 1980s were bogged down with countless bloody shoot 'em ups, but few had as much charming character as Die Hard.  Bruce Willis is exceptional as the everyman.  He's fun, witty, goofy, and absolutely badass when he's got a gun in his hand.  Yipee Ki Yay for the Energizer Bunny, the man takes a beating and keeps on ticking.  After a half dozen sequels, it's hard to find excitement for the "regular Joe," but you can't hate on the studio for trying to recapture the magic of the original.

27.  The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (Wes Anderson, 2004):  As much as I enjoyed Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and The Royal Tenenbaums, it was not until The Life Aquatic that Wes Anderson's mastery over his dollhouse filmmaking hit perfection.  Words like "quirky" and "whimsical" get tossed around a lot when discussing his films, and I find them to be frustratingly reductive.  Anderson does not wish to recreate reality.  He's not interested in Oscar Bait.  He strives for the artificial, for style, for the storybook.  But to say there's no truth in the artificial is absurd.  The Life Aquatic is layered in familial heartbreak.  Bill Murray is an artist soaked in despair, a man desperate to believe in fatherhood when the chance presents itself, but also incapable of expressing love.  Owen Wilson is equally adrift as the son in question, but manages to force himself into this gruesome adventure of oceanic revenge while deflecting the jealously of Zissou's crew.  Ultimately, The Life Aquatic is about getting beyond your emotional baggage, and accepting the imperfect people around you.

26.  The Professionals (Richard Brooks, 1966):  Last year, in the wake of The Lone Ranger, I put together a list of my Top 5 Favorite Westerns, and The Professionals ranked at number 4.  Well, as I warned above, I've changed my mind.  It now sits as my third favorite western & my 26th favorite movie.  Lists are stupid.  But I love them.  Ralph Bellamy's Texas tycoon hires Lee Marvin, Burt Lancaster, Robert Ryan, & Woody Strode to charge down into Mexico to rescue his wife from Jack Palance's crazed revolutionary.  But as plot demands, things are not as simple as they seem.  I've spoken about it before, but perhaps the most stunning feat about The Professionals is Lancaster's ability to steal the show from Marvin.  His rapscallion is not so much an outlaw as he is a man who let his disgust for humanity crush his own morality, and the result is a gleaming devil worth rooting for.  Lee Marvin is simply a badass...he's great at being a badass, but it's also kinda expected.  The Professionals is certainly Lancaster's show, but there are few films with as strong a cast - each man (and one lady) gets their moment.  Imagine The Wild Bunch minus the grotesque i.e. violence as Adventure!

25.  Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005):  One of my many reoccurring rants around here is my stance against Superhero Origin movies - they're boring!  Been there, done that.  'nuff said.  So, why in the world is my all time favorite Comic Book movie an origin story???  Well, because in the 75 years of Batman's time on Earth, we've never been given the full story on Bruce Wayne.  Yep, before Batman Begins even the comic books only told a partial story.  Not to mention the fact that because we've had so many incarnations of Batman over the years, an origin story was actually a fresh approach to the character.  I love The Dark Knight, I dig Rises, and I even appreciate the Clooney travesty.  The Brave & The Bold and "Holy Adam West, Batman!"  But this is Bruce Wayne's story.  No other film comes close to that kind of human focus.  Plus, the way Nolan & Goyer snake the theme of fear through the story is outstanding.  A child's fear leads to his parents' murder, that fear becomes the child's armor, and that armor becomes Gotham's Knight, it's savior from the forces of darkness.  The first time I saw Batman Begins will go down as my All Time Favorite theatrical experience.  While attending the Wizard World Philadelphia Comic Con, I was one of a lucky few who won tickets to see an advanced IMAX screening of Batman Begins.  I've never been more thrilled to be part of a crowd; several hundred nerds cheering, rooting, and screaming as the caped crusader finally got his story told proper.

24.  First Blood (Ted Kotchef, 1982):  The story of two generations of soldiers, the good war vs the bad war.  I know it's hard to imagine in this Expendables era, but once upon a time Sylvester Stallone was considered a Renaissance Man.  Before he got 'roided & sequeled out, Stallone made a career out of emotionally gripping character pieces.  First Blood was the last one...or at least, the last successful one.  A Vietnam vet wanders through town after discovering his last war buddy has died a lonely cancerous death.  A Korean War vet turned constable scoops him up, and attempts to shuffle him down the line so he may not soil the town scenery with his long dirty hair.  An act of disrespect that leads to rage-fueled domestic warfare that's as sad as it is understandable.  John Rambo began his career in cinema as a symbol for the lost, the disaffected, and the traumatized.  This is not the badass action film the sequels would eventually attempt.  First Blood is the story of hurt, and a damn fine one.

23.  Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1943):  I only saw this film for the first time six years ago.  "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."  I'd seen all the clip shows, read all the critic's lists, and I thought I knew what Casablanca was.  Nope.  More often than not, classics are classics for a reason.  Humphrey Bogart is a lost American hiding from himself as much as the war when an old flame walks into his club, and causes all sorts of Nazi trouble.  Bogart is cold & cool in The Maltese Falcon, a cocky braggart in The Big Sleep, and the shlubbiest sadsack loser in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.  Rick, though, is Bogart's great performance.  He's a selfish jerk, a master of slick wit, a (self)forgotten patriot, and a doomed romantic.  If all you know is the soundbites, do yourself a favor, and treat yourself to one of The Great Movies.

22.  Robocop (Paul Verhoeven, 1987):  An action film, a gorehound's delight, a Frankenstein parable, and a painfully funny satire of 1980s consumerism.  Robocop is one of the strangest bits of outsider art to sneak into mainstream cinemas.  Peter Weller does Karloff proud as a man slaughtered by criminals, and butchered further by corporate scientists.  He's given very little to emote with (a facial slit & Mr Roboto body language), but the film succeeds thanks to Weller's ability to pull the humanity from the cyborg. Then you have Kurtwood Smith & his gang of goons.  Never has there been a better collection of psychopathic villainy.  Verhoeven revels in the monstrosity of man, he takes glee in showcasing the vile & despicable, and then he projects triumph through violence.  Politically correct?  Hell no!  It's cool though.

21.  2001 - A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968):  My experience with this movie is probably like a lot of folks my age.  At 15, I didn't "get it."  At 20, I thought I liked it until it went Beyond The Infinite.  At 25, seeing it for the first time on the Uptown's Big Screen, I was in awe of the cinematography and the pulsating soundtrack.  At 35, I worship it's attempts at understanding the question of man via science fiction & metaphor.  I don't claim to understand the Star Child any better than I did at 20, but maybe in another decade or so I will.  I certainly look forward to rewatch after rewatch.  2001 is a rare event, a film that evolves as you do.  You gotta cherish that.

--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (1/19/14-1/25/14)

    Not a lot of movies this week, but some good dork life living.  Finished a book, listened to some tunes, and did a bunch of reading and worrying in preparation for hosting my first role playing game in a very, very long time (with one very brief exception 3 years ago).

Airplane:  Some of the humor of this film is lost now, due primarily to the world changing.  It’s not shocking to hear some of the topics addressed in such a frank way.  But in spite of some of that inevitable aging any comedy that dares to tackle current events or cultural trends is going to go through, it’s still quite funny, and some jokes appear to be timeless.  It’s so absurd, but so well delivered.  And every danged line Peter Graves delivers is pure gold.

    Sunday night, Lisa, Brad, and myself headed out to the Alamo Drafthouse to see an early favorite of mine, Brazil.  It was really something seeing the film on the big screen, and the first time really watching it in a several years.  What a wild movie, and it must have been pretty darned out there when it hit theaters.

Brazil:  One of those films that was so important to impressionable young Matt, Brazil captures that faded dream of a retro-future Utopia so beautifully.  Terry Gilliam tries his hands at Orwell, through the lens of Kafka, and the results are amazing.  It’s funny, it’s unsettling, it’s horribly dark and on occasion, downright mean.  And it’s full of fantastic performances.  Even the repair men are great.  The script is funny.  The world creation is phenomenal.  The music is great.  A classic, all around.

Snow Queen:  Ten minutes in, I checked the runtime and my heart sank.  Three boring hours.  Boring, boring, boring hours.  Made in Canada.  Made for TV.  Dullsville.  Acting sucks.  Directing is lifeless.  Script is crap.

In the Mirror of Maya Deren:  This documentary, as surface as one expects from less than two hours, does serve as an overview of the woman and her art.  Plenty of interviews with people who knew and worked with her, combined with some footage from her films lets you get something of a sense of Deren, a strange and passionate person who broke a lot of rules, and not just the obvious one of being a woman filmmaker in the 40s.  Her work exudes the dream logic I’ve come to love in later David Lynch, as well as the late Euro-trash cinema wunderkind Jean Rollin.  Can I tell you what a lot of her films mean?  No.  Not remotely.  But they capture a mood.  As a jumping off point, I think this film works very well.  I kind of wish I’d seen it 15 or 20 years ago, when I was interested in voodoo.  Deren did a great deal of research and filming, and even wrote a book on the subject, which apparently gets high praise.  A woman ahead of her time, her work is something film fans should seek out.

    On Friday night, I finished Cleopatra.  An excellent, accessible look into the late Egyptian world and the beginnings of the Roman Empire we tend to think of when we think of Ancient Rome.  It reads like a novel, while having lots of insight and context.

The Flame and the Arrow:  “We’re civilized and the art of civilization is doing natural things in an unnatural way.  I’m just a little more civilized than other men.”  Medieval adventure with heaping piles of high-flying gymnastics.  Burt Lancaster can’t seem to stop doing crazy circus tricks with his outlaw buddies, as they face off against a typically stuffy historic adventure movie foe.  The girls are pretty, the guys are dashing, the villains are pompous.  And the sets look pretty good.  Hardly a game changing classic, it bares more than a passing resemblance to any number of other Technicolor action films of its time.  But it’s fast paced and filled with fun, colorful characters.  And that’s pretty good in my book.

    Saturday night we had our 20th meeting of our graphic novel club, hosted by Brad and Lisa.  This time around we read Sailor Twain, which while lauded by critics, turned out not to wow most of us in the group.  A couple people hated it, one person really liked it, and most of us felt very mixed.  It’s no wonder I stalled while writing my review for it nearly a month ago.  I’ll have to go back and try to finish it.

-Matt

Brad's Week in Dork! (11/24/13-11/30/13)

Thanksgiving and Black Friday got in the way of some serious movie watching this week.  Can't really complain about that though, can I?  Life is good.  Family is sweet.  And Business is a boomin'.  Started the week with Matt at The Angelika for Alexander Payne's Nebraska.  It's certainly not going to make my Top Ten List this year, but Bruce Dern is a serious contender for the Oscar race.  On Wednesday The Wife and I made it over to The Alamo for Hunger Games 2.  Better than the first film, but the best part about the night was still the Drafthouse pre-show.  SNL skit was actually pretty funny. And we came home from the movie craving real entertainment, so we had ourselves a double feature with the This Is The End & The Word's End blu rays.  Before my Black Friday got on the way, I caught both Philomena & Oldboy on the big screen while my Brother-In-Law tagged along for the adventure.  Probably couldn't pair two films as different as those.  However, the best film I watched this week was Plunder of the Sun.  Glenn Ford doing that mean bastard routine.  I love it.

While at work on Saturday, I got word that Paul Walker had died.  I'm happy to say that I have always been a Walker fan.  The man appeared in a lot of crappy cinema (the first two Fast & Furious flicks, Into The Blue, Bobby Z), but he's also rather amazing in Running Scared.  I've sung that films praises numerous times on this blog, and I'll take the opportunity again to send you running to your TV set.  It is simply an amazing bit of gonzo cinema.  A Grimm's Fairy Tale remake of Akira Kurosawa's Stray Dog featuring possibly the greatest tribute to John Wayne this side of Garth Ennis's Preacher comic book series.  Not to mention those terrifying Nosferatu Pedophiles!!!!  If you haven't seen Running Scared than I demand you drop what you're doing right now and check it out.  If you're looking for other great Walker flicks to tribute and you've already exhausted Fast Five, then I also suggest Joy Ride (see below) and the more recent Pawn Shop Chronicles in which Walker plays a buggin' out meth head.  The man knew how to have fun on screen.  I'm gonna miss ya.

Nebraska:  I've been listening to a lot of conversation surrounding Alexander Payne's latest flick.  From one podcast to the next - Slashfilm, Operation Kino, Battleship Pretension - one critic blasts it as a mean-spirited mockery of the midwest, and another calls it a searing character study.  One thing is certain - Bruce Dern delivers a quiet, painful performance as the senile father determined to collect his million dollar sweepstakes.  And as a city slicker kid who occasionally spent his summers in Taylor, North Dakota population 148, I felt a lot of kinship for Will Forte's interloper.  Is it mockery?  At times.  Is that a bad thing?  I don't know.  I was always told by my teachers that it was cruel to laugh at others, and Nebraska certainly gains a lot of its comedy from pointing the finger.  So maybe I'm an asshole.  I enjoyed Nebraska.  Not the kind of film I'll watch over & over again, and I absolutely prefer Payne's The Descendants, Sideways, About Schmidt, & Election, but I'll root for Dern come Oscar time.

Plunder of the Sun:  "How hard can you beg?"  Now here is a beastly little diddy that does not get the praise it so rightfully deserves.  Glenn Ford, very much in the spirit of Gilda's Johnny Farrall, is an insurance investigator ensnared in an archeological heist when Patricia Medina bats her eyes across the barroom.  Ford is an amazing bastard in this movie, delightfully selfish, and cool as ice in the face of danger.  I absolutely love how no jackbooted thug can take this man down, and how heartlessly mean he can be to a beautiful woman when she attempts to play villain.  Imagine Indiana Jones mixed with In The Mouth of Madness's John Trent and a little of Prime Cut's Lee Marvin and you get Glenn Ford's beastly idol robber..  In 2013, having recently discovered or rediscovered flicks like The Big Heat, 310 To Yuma, Gilda, and Plunder of the Sun, Glenn Ford has climbed himself to the top of my favorite "classic" actors list.  He lives proudly next to Burt Lancaster, Henry Fonda, and Lee Marvin.  Now it's time to devour the rest of his back catalogue.

Medium Cool:  "I understand that you have some problems."  Robert Forester is a TV cameraman attempting to navigate the civil unrest of the late 1960s.  The story itself is pretty much what you expect, but Haskel Wexler's in-the-trenches documentary direction perfectly mirrors the era's primetime media assault.  Remember when journalism could make a difference?  Sigh.

Catching Fire:  I really just don't understand the appeal of these movies.  I've seen dozens of dystopian sci-fi hellholes.  Some I idolize - A Boy And His Dog, Logan's Run, Soylent Green, District 9.  Some I hate - No Escape, In Time, Johnny Mnemonic.  But The Hunger Games and this redo sequel are just soooooo booooooring.  Doesn't help that I'm not the biggest fan of Jennifer Lawrence's steely-eyed acting (minus Silver Linings Playbook, which is awesome, and her constant red carpet shit-talking).  Seriously, let's see some real deal emotion lady!  You just butchered a dome full of kids and all you can muster is some scream dreaming?  I dig the gender reversal of asskicker Katniss & Josh Hutcherson's damsel-in-distress, but why rehash the structure of the first film?  How 'bout doing something of note with these old ass tributes?  Geoffrey Wright is in your movie!  Use him!  Phillip Seymour Hoffman is in your movie!  Use him!  How can a film be nearly three hours long and have so little plot?  But since this flick just made a butt load of cash at the box office, I must be missing something.

This Is The End: "Call me your Prince of Persia..."  This is not sophisticated satire, it's a ferociously obscene assault on celebrity culture as seen from within.  I've always been a sucker for Seth Rogen's pothead comedy (Pineapple Express & Your Highness), but I don't think it's ever been funnier than it is in the moment when he & Jay Baruchel return from an L.A. Revelation to find all their Hollywood friends Left Behind at James Franco's house party.  One by one, they are either swallowed up by the Earth, impaled on sharp instruments, possessed by Satan, or welcomed into the Donner Party.  Their only option for salvation is to learn & live The Golden Rule.  It does not go well.

The World's End:  "Back to the dark ages."  Edgar Wright & Simon Pegg tackle the apocalypse from a much different, far classier, smarter, and typically British perspective.  I've watched the film three times now, and with each viewing I love it more and more.  I am very comfortable in calling The World's End one of the year's very best films, and even if I rank it at the bottom of the Cornetto Trilogy, it's still one of the finest emotionally wrenching comedies.  It also helps that it so easily Out-Star Trek's this year's abysmal Into Darkness atrocity with Simon Pegg expertly Kirking The Computer.  The World's End also offers the strongest performances yet from both Simon Pegg & Nick Frost.  Pegg's drunkard turned savior, Gary King never quite learns his lesson, but he comes close enough.  The apocalypse is not the awful part, it's how the apocalypse warrants his stagnancy.  The Loser Reigns!  Just what all isolated fanboys dream!  But my favorite delight is watching Frost's sober suit transform into the Pink Hulk of robotic destruction.  We've all seen the slobby brute, but I don't think we've ever been blessed with a prim & proper Frost.  Hard to take at first, but it's all worth it for when the shots hit the table.

The Killers:  Using Ernest Hemingway's short story for the opening scene, the rest of the film traces the actions of Burt Lancaster's punched-out boxer that lead to his inevitable assassination.  This is solid noir.  The flashback structure prevents it from fully capturing my passion, but it's also what gives the overall story its sense of dread.  There's no happy ending here.  Burt Lancaster dies in the first ten minutes and there's no resurrection.  The film has all the genre hallmarks, and Ava Gardner's Femme Fatale is exceptionally venomous with her dialogue.  "You touch me and you won't live till morning."  Don't mess with this lady folks.  She'll drive you to suicide.

Philomena:  Who doesn't love Judi Dench?  Who doesn't love Steve Coogan?  Only the soulless.  Dench plays a woman determined to find the son she was forced to abandon when she was barely a child herself.  Coogan is the failed journalist plunging the trenches of the human interest story to regain some hold on his career.  Philomena manages to be a searing look at the hypocrisy of religion while still managing to not make a mockery of faith.  Everybody wins.  It's the cliche "You'll laugh, you'll cry" kind of dramedy.  Well done, Mr Frears.

Oldboy:  A serviceable remake.  There are a few changes to the Korean original, but a lot of the horror of that film is surprisingly maintained in this Spike Lee joint.  Josh Brolin is pretty damn great as the American businessman kidnapped off the streets and mysteriously imprisoned for ten years.  Suddenly released, Brolin beats, bashes, and hammers his way through a variety of thugs until he finds the man responsible for his torture.  Along the way he meets Elisabeth Olsen's attractive social worker and does things he shouldn't.  Besides being totally unnecessary, I have a few other complaints in regards to Newboy - Sharlto Copley is far too James Bond Villainy as the billionaire beast, the film rushes too quickly towards its climax, and never properly establishes the "love" between Brolin & Olsen.  And could we please stop with the CG bloodwork!?!?  I hate it sooo much.  Still, it could have gone down a lot worse.

We Steal Secrets - The Story of Wikileaks:  "I like crushing bastards."  I'd love to tell you I was a socially conscious person.  But I'm a pop culture freak.  I can drone on and on about the merits of Roger Corman, but can barely string a sentence when it comes to the politics of the day.  I'm trying to be a better American.  I probably should venture out further into the real world than the handful of documentaries I watch a year.  I knew very little about Wikileaks before watching We Steal Secrets.  Similar to The Act of Killing, I found it to be a rather disturbing viewing experience.  What is the truth of the Red, White, & Blue?  What can we as Americans accept as collateral damage?  Wikileaks is incredible.  Too bad Julian Assange is such a hypocritical asshole himself.

Joyride:  I love Joy Ride.  Co-written by JJ Abrams and directed by John Dahl, the film is the closest this century has come to crafting the classic noir screenplay.  It's Detour populated with sexy young things.  While on a cross country roadtrip, two brothers punk a trucker using sex as temptation, and unleash a nightmarish Duel on the freeways.  Paul Walker & Steve Zahn are so much fun to hang out with that you forgive their idiotic prank and cheer them on to victory.  Too bad the film doesn't have the grit to adhere to its noir heart, and falters with a too-neat climax.  And Leelee Sobieski should totally Femme Fatale these bozos, but is simply relegated to the damsel-in-distress.

--Brad

Brad's Week in Dork! (9/8/13-9/14/13)

Second week of September and my Criterion month is still going strong.  Granted, I didn't really delve deep into the foreign classics like my initial plan, but what do you expect when you start your dorkery with Michael Bay's The Rock.  I'm still flummoxed that such a seemingly mindless Blockbuster resides in The Criterion Collection, but I guess I see it as a lure to drag mainstream bros into the eclectic artistry of the auteur theory.  Heck, I know that's how I first found myself craving spine numbers.  The first Criterion I ever purchased was The Silence of the Lambs (Spine # 13), and from there I found John Woo's Hard Boiled (Spine # 9), Terry Gilliam's Time Bandits (Spine # 37), and Sam Fuller's Shock Corridor (Spine # 19).  And Shock Corridor is the film responsible for my Criterion obsession.  Looking at this Top 250 Films list from Sight & Sound, I discovered that I still have a long journey ahead of me, but I am more determined than ever to fill those classic cinematic gaps.  If you have that same desire then Criterion is the place to be - just watch your addictive personality.

But let's not forget my fanboy origins.  My absolute favorite film of the week (not including Sweet Smell of Success, a Top 10er for me) was the recent Dark Knight Returns animated film.  After so much crying and whining from the comic book community, we finally have the film we've all wanted to see on the big screen and I'm not hearing enough love from the internet.  This is a masterpiece, and the most fun I've had watching an animated film in years.  Adult entertainment.  No kiddie stuff here.  This is the potential of the medium fully realized.  If you don't trust the blind buy than give it a Netflix.  You won't be sorry.  Parts 1 & 2 are widely available everywhere, but The Complete Cut can now be purchased exclusively in store at Best Buy.

The Rock (Criterion Spine # 108):  So much has changed since 1996.  Remember when the world was Nicholas Cage's oyster, after he jumped from his Oscar darling Leaving Las Vegas to this successful summer smash?  That one-two punch launched the man down a blockbuster gauntlet that would eventually implode with the equally powerful rope-a-dope combo of The Wicker Man & Ghost Rider.  Welcome to the land of Direct-To-DVD, Nic.  Sigh.  Michael Bay, the heir apparent of Tony Scott, reaches deep into his bag of tricks - we get gratuitous car chases, plenty of unnecessary patriotism, random wheelchairs, and heaps of oddball character quirks.  Cage's G-Man chemist not only obsesses over The Beatles, but kills lumbering thugs with the musical might of Elton John!  What the hell?  But it's kind of amazing.  The Rock is a bombastic weird mess of an actioner, but its wandering behemoth narrative doesn't feel as tired or as rote as it would become in the Transformers trilogy...or soon to be quadrilogy.

On The Waterfront (Criterion Spine # 647):  "Ain't nobody tough anymore."  I recognize that for many, On The Waterfront was the birth of a new era in performance, but Brando feels completely apart from the other actors in the film.  His punch drunk stoolie bumbles through the scene, fidgeting props, mumbling dialog, and generally steals the show from the others that dare occupy the frame.  Revolutionary?  Yeah, okay, maybe.  It's hard for me in 2013 to appreciate what was obviously a shock to the audience in 1954, but hindsight being what it is, On The Waterfront has an awkward show-off quality.  It's a film populated with classically earnest performances by Lee J Cobb, Karl Malden, Eva Marie Saint, and Rod Steiger but there's a xonomorph hiding amongst them - Brando, God's Gift to Acting.

Secret Honor (Criterion Spine # 257):  But without Brando do we have this tyrannical terror of performance?  For 90 minutes, Phillip Baker Hall as Richard Milhous Nixon rants and raves to the walls of his study as he records his confessional memoir armed with a bottle of scotch and an automatic pistol.  It's a horror show.  Filmed over the course of seven days, and comprised mostly of Robert Altman's University of Michigan students, Secret Honor is an angry declaration against the 37th President that might attempt to highlight some humanity, but really just revels in Nixon's futile attempts to justify his actions.  And I'm 100% cool with that.  Seriously, who doesn't want to see this man put a gun to his head?  At the very least Phillip Baker Hall is easily the most entertaining on-screen Nixon; even confined to four walls, Hall races circles around other impersonators like Anthony Hopkins or Frank Langella.

Star Trek Into Darkness:  "I thought we were explorers?"  Sigh.  Man oh man, I really wish JJ Abrams listened to that painful bit of truth uttered by Scotty halfway through the film.  Of course, the Star Trek films haven't been about exploring since 1979, and look how popular that was?  As you may or may not have figured out by now, we ITMODers are none too happy with this latest Trek.  That being said, I bought the damn movie.  Yep, I'm one of those hypocritical blogger jerkwads that bitches & moans about a film, but still succumbs to the temptation of high definition.  Doesn't that mean that I like Into Darkness on some level?  Maybe.  But it's more indicative of my completist fanboy problem.  I own (and will own) every Star Trek film that has ever hit disc.  Heck, I have far worse Treks than Into Darkness - those being Generations & Nemesis.  So, my goal this week was to pick out all the little bits I actually enjoyed about Star Trek The Reboot Part II.  Uhurah's helmet kiss for Spock, The Nibiru sand drawing disolve, Kirk bedding two cat chicks, Pike chastising Kirk leading to another motivational barroom chat, those spherical ice cubes, Klingon helmets, Scotty's disco nightlife collar, Cumberbatch's crying, and the tumbling gravitational malfunction.  But those superficial "LIKES" are nothing when paired with the stupidity on display within the narrative.  Why does Admiral Marcus unfreeze Khan?  We're told for his savagery...uh okay, let me go get Napoleon to build me a Nuclear Warhead.  Nonsense.

Traffic (Criterion Spine # 151):  The one-two punch of Erin Brockovich & Traffic marks the end of Steven Soderbergh's first wave of filmmaking - goodbye Sex, Lies & Videotape, hello Ocean's 11.  The director graduates from slick indie crime dramas to this Oscar Bait cavalcade of Hollywood Smiles, with show-me filter fun and a serious after school message.  Drugs are bad, ok.  And the War on Drugs is a joke.  When I saw this in 2000, I was in love.  Cynicism + big top performances = college class catnip.  Benicio Del Toro & Don Cheadle are excellent as two cops on two sides of the border pointlessly battling with the cartels.  But Michael Douglas's junkie kids story is dull and annoying, and Catherine Zeta-Jones' mama kingpin routine a bore.  I love early Soderbergh (Sex, Limey, Out of Sight) and modern Soderbergh (Informant, Haywire, Side Effects), but the middle era (Traffic, Oceans, & The Good German) holds little interest these days.

Breaking Bad - Season 2:  As the fifth and final season bears down upon us, I find myself inundated at work with Breaking Bad enthusiasm.  I'm sick and tired of not being a part of the water cooler.  I meandered my way through the first season a while back, but didn't experience the MUST SEE TV effect that others seem to have fallen into.  Watching the second season, I can't say that I'm in love in the same fashion as The Wire or even Justified, but by the last episode I was certainly hooked.  BOOM!  John De Lancie.  Yikes.  Walter White started this series as a family man struggling to provide before he shuffles off, and by the end of Season 2 we see a man doomed by his choices.  It's been impossible to avoid all the spoilers running free on Twitter & Facebook, so I have some idea what villainy the man will eventually achieve...it's kinda depressing.  Not a lot of people to root for in this show, maybe Hank, or the kid...maybe.

Sweet Smell of Success (Criterion Spine # 555):  "You're a liar, Sidney."  This is a mean movie.  And I love mean movies.  Tony Curtis is a weasel of a man, a press agent scamming his way through a slew of clients, desperate to land a juicy line in Burt Lancaster's prized gossip column.  Lancaster, the lord of the New York nightlife, reigns over politicians and cigarette girls alike and has no qualms bartering wordcount for sibling affection.  This demigod charges Tony Curtis with the task of manipulating a jazz musician out of the arms of his younger sister, a trail of bile and hate nearly topples the city...or at least it feels like it should.  Honestly, I cannot think of another movie in which people inject such heated venom into each other simply with words.  I'd take a crack on the head any day over one biting word from Lancaster.  And I'm no cookie filled with arsenic.

The Red Shoes (Criterion Spine # 44):  One year after they concocted their religious psychomelodrama Black Narcissus, Michael Powell & Emric Pressburger return with an even more punishing saga.  The Red Shoes follows the budding relationship between Moira Shearer's dancer and Marius Goring's composer; their romance could be grande if it didn't attract the jealousy of Anton Walbrook's despotic impresario.  I'm not sure how they do it, but as masters of manipulation Powell & Pressburger have crafted a nightmare around ballet that's as captivating and heart pounding as Lawrence of Arabia's war torn deserts or Ridley Scott's space trucking Alien.  Of course, you cannot dismiss Jack Cardiff's technicolor majesty or Robert Helpmann's choreography as their technical brilliance during The Red Shoes fantasy sequence alone makes this essential viewing for all film nuts.

The Small Press Expo 2013:  This was a great year for mini-comics.  Three of my friendly neighborhood comic shopketeers had tables with books as varied as Zodiac Starforce, Gang War, and The Secret Origin of John Elway.  Weird, wild stuff.  Alex Fine's Il Brutto chapbook was certainly a highlight with its Charles Bronson What Ifs, and Trevor Henderson's House print (see below) inspired the course of this Week in Dork.  But my absolute favorite was Thomas Scioli's trilogy of Satan's Soldier comics.  Imagine Superman as an agent of evil with a chubby brood of Super Babies to drown. Really horrible and demented irreverence that you will never see from the big two publishers.  That's the charm of basement pressed comics.

SPX certainly has its share of big names as well.  Jeff Smith brought in a large crowd of Boneville fanboys & girls of every age; it's so nice to see actual kids at a small press convention (Scholastic is doing its job).  Smith was also doing sketches inside of everyone's books, I was stoked to get that Rasl doodle.  He must have seen my giddy appreciation or I was just the lucky early bird in the line, because the cartoonist asked me if I could take his phone and snap some photos of the massive line wrapping the ballroom.  Of course I obliged!  I am happy to report that the man behind some of my all time favorite books (Bone, Rasl, Shazam) is a real sweetheart.  The other big line I braved was for Congressman John Lewis & Nate Powell.  Not a lot of chitchat there, but the Congressman granted a quick photo op, and it was a treat to meet a genuine historical figure.  Haven't cracked into March yet, but that's first up for next week.  Overall, this year's SPX was a smashing success and happily drained my wallet.

The Dark Knight Returns - The Complete Cut:  "I'm not finished yet."  Similar to my Watchmen experience, this cinematic adaption brought a new found appreciation for the source material.  Everyone in the comic book kingdom recognizes Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns as a masterpiece of sequential art, but since I entered the medium years after the initial release, I never quite saw the shine of its revered crown.  Is The Dark Knight Returns as good as Jeph Loeb's The Long Halloween or Grant Morrison's Batman Inc? Well, actually, after watching this DC Entertainment I'm pretty sure The Dark Knight Returns is the greatest Batman Story period.  I'll certainly need to revisit the graphic novel soon, but I am deeply in love with this interpretation.  Peter Weller's dogged and beaten dark knight detective is a savage warrior refusing to back into retirement even when good sense and big brother demand otherwise.  Forget fantasies of a cowled Clint Eastwood, Weller is The Dark Knight we've always wanted to see on screen.  The man carries so much regret and anger in his voice; it's impossible to think of anyone else uttering "This isn't a mudhole...it's an operating table.  And I'm the surgeon."  A ridiculous line of of 80s machismo that totally plays thanks to Weller's commitment.  The film contains the book's four act structure: Two-Face, Mutant Leader, Joker, Superman.  This sputtering screenplay might feel awkward to the uninitiated, but as the foils ratchet towards the Reagan Stooge showdown the narrative tightens around the viewer.  When Batman finally gets his hands around Superman's throat I felt a tremendous sense of triumph.  Screw that boy scout.  If Zach Snyder's Man of Steel sequel can only capture a tenth of that feeling then Batman vs Superman will be a rip roaring success.  And in the dark year that is 2013, The Dark Knight Returns is one of this year's very best films.

House (Criterion Spine # 539):  The punchy quote provided on the back of the box says "An episode of Scooby-Doo as directed by Mario Bava."  Close but not quite right.  House certainly has a zany cartoon vibe and features whacky geysers of red reminiscent of various Italian splatter artists, but the hijinks are injected with that Japanese French New Wave obsession.  House rubs shoulders with Tokyo Drifter.  You know, plus school girl munching pianos, dancing chopped up corpses, and spectral blood vomiting kitty cats.  Brooding giallo?  No.  But it's certainly a genre mixing bowl that spawned Sam Raimi's Evil Dead and at least a thirty or forty of Takashi Miike's mondo movies.

--Brad