Matt’s Week in Dork! (11/17/13-11/23/13)

    I’ve continued to enjoy the heck out of my Criterion viewing, getting in another 5 this week (though Kiss Me Deadly is available from Criterion, I saw it on the big screen, not on disk).  It’s been interesting seeing a bunch of various classic and art films, stuff I’ve heard of but never seen.  And I think I can say that I’ve become something of an Ingmar Bergman fan.  I’m surprised at how grounded and relatable most of his movies are.  When people mentioned his name, I imagined movies like The Magician, which were surreal, vague, and obtuse.  But the movies I’ve seen have been quite earthy, even if the framing and staging has been artificial.  And this week took Brad, Ben, and I out to the AFI Silver for a screening of one of my favorite movies, so that was nice.  But the week started with the awesome Fantastic Fest tour at the Alamo Drafthouse.  Sadly, because of scheduling, neither Brad nor I were able to see any of the earlier screenings, but Sunday we got to see three movies back to back.

Confession of Murder:  Oh, Korean film industry.  You sure put out a lot of vaguely interesting, but ultimately boring films.  I love the cast, and I think they do a great job.  The plot twists aren’t especially interesting, however, or particularly ‘twisty.’  And the pacing is brutally, grindingly slow.  I was shocked to find out it was under two hours, as the last third of the movie seemed to drag and drag and drag.  And there were several places where not only could the movie have ended, but the movie absolutely should have ended (that POV flashback would have been the perfect fade to credits for a very emotionally devastating ending…but it kept going…).  The subplot about the victim’s family trying to do a kidnapping caper bloats the film, adding virtually nothing to the overall piece except excruciating runtime.  The movie would have been stronger (not to mention mercifully shorter) without any of that.  And the CGI action bits looked like crap.  There.  I said it.  The action looked like crap.  And this is an action movie.  So that’s not good.  Overall, it was OK.  But it wasn’t especially good.  And it continues an almost unbroken stream of disappointments from Korea, for this film viewer.  I think The Good, The Bad, The Weird remains the only Korean film I really like (OK, and maybe The Warrior’s Way).

Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons:  This martial arts fantasy film is fitfully funny, wildly zany, and surprisingly good.  I’m generally not a fan of comedy films from China, but Stephen Chow does a pretty good job with humor that crosses cultural boundaries.  I wasn’t a huge fan of Shaolin Soccer, but it was solid, and Kung Fu Hustle is fantastic.  This movie takes on the Journey to the West’s early stages in a way I’ve never seen done before (granted, I’ve only seen maybe 5 or 6 variations on the classic tale, and I know there are many more).  I enjoyed the story, the cast of characters, and the very bent sense of humor.  It’s nasty, weird, funny, and freaky.  It’s also got a very fun performance from one of my favorites, Shu Qi.  This may be the most cracked and over the top she’s ever been, and it was great.

Why Don’t You Play in Hell?:  OK, look.  I’m not much of a Japanese film fan.  Certainly not when it comes to the last 30 years or so.  It’s a lot of things, from the pacing, to the repetitiveness, to the frequently squandered intriguing ideas.  And ‘gonzo’ Japanese films hold very little interest.  So, take that in to account when I say, “holy f’in nuts, this movie is one of the craziest, most insanely fun things I’ve seen.”  It’s almost impossible to explain what the movie is like.  You’ve just got to see it.  I’ve watched a trailer that shows some scenes, but it’s not even the tip of the iceberg of how batshit the film actually is.  And the cast takes each bit of madness and runs with it.  They sell it.  The mob bosses?  Awesome.  The filmmakers?  Awesome.  The poor schlub?  Awesome.  It’s hallucinatory.  It’s repulsive.  It’s profane.  And it had me in stitches throughout.  I don’t know what I’m going to call it, but I feel like this and movies like Crank and Crank 2 need to have their own subgenre.  If I could put in writing, Henry Silva’s pre-murder scream from Sharky’s Machine; that’s what I’d call it.

Dallas Buyers Club:  A depressing, but also somewhat uplifting film about a hard partying hick who gets the AIDS and learns some valuable lessons.  It’s well acted, well shot, and doesn’t feel overlong.  It also doesn’t feel the need to go into too much detail, or obsess over the unimportant elements, as many ‘true story’ films do.  It’s probably one of the better films of 2013, though I can’t claim it as one of my favorites.  While a fine film, I don't see myself ever watching it again.

Through a Glass Darkly:  A family getaway brings out some old wounds, as four damaged people come together and try to deal with their various issues.  A writer who has ignored his family, an emotionally immature young man, a woman descending into madness, and her put-upon husband.  Each has secrets and desires to get out, each must face personal demons.  Bergman puts family drama against the stark beauty of a vacation spot, and shoots it all in stark black & white.

Au Hasard Balthazar:  Not at all the movie I was expecting.  Not even the kind of movie I was expecting.  The only thing that could make this more stereotypically French would be for it to smell like piss and constantly insult you.  The characters all suck, everyone’s a scumbag, and there’s a donkey.  A slow girl is the object of lust.  Pointlessly rebellious young people act like turds.  It’s unpleasant, and ultimately detached.  Blah.

Winter Light:  Holy flippin’ crap, this is a danged dark film.  A pastor who has lost his way struggles with his lack of faith, while destroying the lives of those around him.  He’s such a humorless and monstrous human being that it’s hard to sympathize with him at all.  You end up feeling a lot more for the folks around him, who try so hard to reach him.

Kiss Me Deadly:  Thanks to the AFI Silver, I got to see this new favorite on the big screen.  When I first saw this film in 2012, it was a bolt from heaven.  Mike Hammer is a monster.  A dirty, violent, brutal monster.  His vacant grin while he crushes a man’s fingers; his slapping of a fragile old man; whatever he did to Sugar Smallhouse that made Charlie Max loose his nerve.  And yeah, Hammer is the ‘hero.’  He just can’t stop pulling at the threads that will bring about a revelation and an apocalyptic ending.  It’s hard to explain the movie.  You’ve just got to see it.  And when it goes where it goes, get ready to have to pick your jaw up off the floor.

Ministry of Fear:  A man leaves an institution after many years, only to immediately get wrapped up in a strange conspiracy of Nazis and cake.  Or is he mad?  A twisting, turning story of paranoia and ever threatening danger.  Those danged Nazis might be anywhere.  The movie is beautifully shot, stylish in that Lang way, and convoluted and weird.  The rooftop shootout is wild, and the ending is nuts.

Dragonwyck:  “Every now and then, you say ‘golly.’”  A pretty young woman goes to live in a colossal mansion as a sort of governess.  But all is not as it seems, and the house is hardly a home.  Gene Tierney is the plucky woman.  Vincent Price is the rather dastardly, snooty master of the house.  Conflict between classes, between the moneyed families and the salt of the Earth farm folk are just the tip of the Gothic iceberg.  It’s sort of a higher budget precursor to Price’s later work in Poe adaptations for Roger Corman.

Murder, My Sweet:  “It ain’t personal.  We don’t like you.  But it ain’t personal.”  I like the script, but Dick Powell, while likable, doesn’t feel right as a hardboiled detective.  It’s a solid noir, but not an amazing one.  It’s worth checking out, and has some of those great little Noir quips.  But Powell is a bit goofy.

Pandora’s Box:  Everyone wants a bit of Louise Brooks, and generally, she’s willing to share.  And that’s where the problems begin.  Everyone seems to love her, but she just wants to have fun.  This leads to wild parties, marriage, murder, messing about, and all the things a woman gets up to when she’s not barefoot and making babies.  Louise Brooks plays a flapper-monster, but somehow remains charming.  She’s not the kind of aggravating Betty Boop of Clara Bow.  She seems like she’s got more going on behind her eyes, and that she may just be the evil the courts think she is.

    That’s about it this week.  But hey, Fantastic Fest at the Alamo and a trip the AFI mean this was a good week for this Dork.

-Matt

Matt’s Week in Dork! (10/6/13-10/12/13)

    Not a whole heck of a lot going on.  I did read Godzilla: The Half-Century War.  Otherwise, just having my spirit crushed.

Jesse James:  Tyrone Power and Henry Fonda are fine in this perfectly OK film version of the classic American outlaw tale.  Pushed too far by railroad men, two brothers fight back…then keep fighting until they become full fledged bandits.  A nice supporting cast helps, but at the end of the day, it’s only an OK movie.  Not bad, but not amazing.

The Return of Frank James:  Henry Fonda reprises his role as Frank James in this sequel to the previous year’s Jesse James.  It too is fine, but nothing special.  If anything, this revenge movie is far too nice, too much of what TV would become.  And the Clem character?  Holy crap does he suck.  Gene Tierney made her big screen debut as a plucky girl-reporter.  Sadly, she’s not very good.  She’s cute enough, and it’s not like she’s terrible or anything.  Just not memorable.  Sort of like rest of the film.  Director Fritz Lang seems to have brought none of his visual flare along with him.

Dinosaur Valley Girls:  You may not expect it, but this movie is garbage.  Sadly, it’s not all that fun either.  I like dinosaurs.  I like dames.  Dinosaurs and dames have made a great combination many times before.  But cavegirls and fake boobs don’t work.  Also, writing is always a plus.  Good writing even more so.

My Young Auntie:  I’m generally not a fan of Hong Kong comedy (or any non-English language comedy).  I find there tends to be too much cultural specific stuff for me to engage in the humor.  And humor is such a monumentally subjective thing, that is very, very difficult to translate.  So, imagine my shock when I found myself enjoying the heck out of this story of a pretty young woman battling expectations and greedy relatives.  The fighting is top notch Shaw Bros. stuff, too.  I’d recommend watching it with the dubbing, as that adds to the amusement.

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home:  The first Star Trek film I saw on the big screen is still one of my favorites.  It’s goofy fun, with lots of great lines.  And it’s probably the best film where it comes to giving all the characters moments to shine, especially McCoy and Scotty.  Considering this is one of the most successful films in the series, it’s frustrating that no other movie has imitated it, instead opting for rehashing Wrath of Khan’s formula.  Where are the dilemmas that need solving?  Where is the fun?  No, it’s darkness, war, and the villain that needs to be punched into submission.  Cut it out, Star Trek producers/writers.  It’s time to recapture some of the lighthearted and hopeful spirit of Star Trek IV.

Doctor Who: The Curse of Fenric:  One of the best Sylvester McCoy stories, this one has some good bits, and some interesting ideas.  But it’s still only OK.  As I near the end of McCoy’s run, and of the original Doctor Who series in general, I can absolutely see what it was canceled.  From the last season of Colin Baker on, the writing seems to have gone down the toilet.  Occasional bright spots serve to highlight the overall drop in quality.  And unfortunately, a lot of the worst aspects of this era seem to have been held over into the new series, especially the Stephen Moffat era.

Frankenstein The True Story:  This 3 hour, made for TV adaptation of the classic novel is pretty good.  It’s not as ‘faithful’ to the source material as I’d been led to believe, but it’s still probably the best adaptation of the book.  I have yet to see a film that treats the monster right, but this one seems to have done a better job of capturing the irresponsibility of Victor.  The thing about the original Shelley novel that I always liked is it didn’t actually condemn the science, so much as the lack of responsibility on the part of the scientist.  Adam was not evil, but was driven to do evil by circumstances created and exacerbated by his creator, Victor Frankenstein.  He is an immensely powerful child, given no direction or love by his parent.  This movie does not really get into that aspect of things as much as I’d have liked.  Still, it’s pretty good, and it’s worth seeking out.

    I tried a new wine that I ended up really enjoying.  Dearly Beloved: I Thee Red.  It’s mellow and went with the seared chicken and spicy rice I had for dinner.  I’m not much of a wine guy, so I’m trying out some various types to see if I can develop some kind of appreciation of it.

Human Desire:  Director Fritz Lang, stars Glenn Ford and Gloria Grahame reunite a year after making the amazing film The Big Heat to craft another twisted Noir tale of love and betrayal.  Unfortunately, lightening did not strike twice, and this film is nowhere near as tense, brutal, or compelling as The Big Heat.  It’s not bad, but it’s not especially good, either.  Ford is fine, though he seems a bit out of place as a blue-collar rail worker.  Grahame is fine, too, if a bit shrill.

    So, I’ve had access to cable TV for a few months; the first time since moving to Virginia six years ago.  And generally speaking, it sucks total ass.  But TCM is a pretty cool channel, and on Saturday it gave me a chance to see a couple science fiction films I’d never seen, It Came from Outer Space and The World, The Flesh and the Devil.  TCM, the AFI Silver and to a lesser degree the Alamo Drafthouse have all combined create a kind of ambient noise of classic cinema that has me feeling pretty good about movies, even as I suffer through a dreadful year of film.  Plus, I’ve been catching a bunch of other older films through various other means recently.  It’s been quite nice.

It Came from Outer Space:  In tune with a lot of 50s sci-fi films, this has plenty of heavy-handed moralizing.  The acting is fine and the film looks good.  But the story is meh.  The creature is kind of cool, and I like the way seeing it seems to drive people temporarily mad, like something out of Lovecraft.  The ending is pretty cool; and somewhat unusual for its time.

The World, The Flesh and the Devil:  Harry Belafonte is working underground when something really bad happens.  Finally climbing up into the sun again, he finds himself alone in a desolate New York City.  The first half hour or so is carried completely by Belafonte, and there are moments that remind me of the early part of The Omega Man, making me wonder if this served as something of an inspiration (beyond the novel I Am Legend, obviously).  This certainly covers some similar ground, though without any supernatural/plague element.  When he meets a woman, things become more complicated, and suddenly the racial tensions ramp up.  This becomes even more intense when another man, a white man, arrives on the scene.  How much of their pre-nuke baggage will they hold on to, how much can they cast off?  Once the conflict becomes a three-way, it becomes quite odd, building to a rather strange ending that can’t be accused of being typical.  Good use of early morning New York to create a lifeless world.

Thunder Birds:  On the home front, some young men need to learn the ins and outs of flying.  And of course, along the way, catch the eye of a lovely young lady.  Gene Tierney is that lady, and by Odin’s beard, she’s gorgeous.  From her extremely sexy reveal through her search for love.  Goodness.  The movie is an interesting look into the Wartime attitudes about various things, including people from other countries, romance, and stockings.  By no means a great classic, it’s still quite entertaining.

    That’s about it.  I’ve spent a lot of time staring at the wall this week.  It’s been a rough go.

Get it done!

-Matt

Dork Art: Kevin Tong's Metropolis

Well, we missed it.  Earlier today frequent Mondo artist Kevin Tong unveiled this gorgeous Metropolis print on his website.  It measures 24 x 36 and cost $60.  Oh well.  There's always ebay.


--Brad

Brad's Week in Dork! (3/10/13-3/16/13)

After the saccharine disappointment of Sam Raimi's Oz , I felt a strong desire to return to the classics of his youth.  It had been nearly three years since I watched The Evil Dead trilogy.  The break was good for me.  For nearly all of high school & college, one of those films was playing on my tv every weekend.  I'm not alone here.  I think every Deadite fan believes they were the one to discover as well as champion the series, but as time marches on it's obvious that no dorm room was complete without an Army of Darkness poster.  The funny thing though is that in watching some of his earlier films I've now come to appreciate his pulp hero creation over the others.  Darkman is a brilliant film.  And Liam Neeson is my favorite batshit crazy super hero.  I look around my apartment now and I realize that it needs an upgrade.  Darkman belongs on my walls.  A Darkman toy belongs on my desk.    He's a kook and a sadsack.  Mean as hell.  He'll rip your throat out, but maybe feel sorry that he had to do it in front of his woman.

I also felt the need to delve into some classics.  I've been maintaining a fairly contemporary flavor so far this year, and I feel like I've been skipping my vegetables.  That's not to say Criterions are swampy piles of mushy broccoli, I just mean I'm lacking some nutrients.  The Wizard of Oz seemed like a good entry point, but Theif of Bagdad and Ministry of Fear were the real winners this week.  Just gorgeous, weird productions.  And yeah, I saw The Rock's new flick.  It certainly was a movie.

The Wizard of Oz:  Such a delightfully simple story.  Dorothy flees the homestead to save Toto from lethal injection, runs afoul of a beastly Kansas tornado, and is swept into the technicolor wonderland called Oz.  Her arrival means the demise of one nasty witch and garners the attention of another.  Better get your ass home, girl.  She follows the yellow brick road, gains a few creatures-in-crime, meets the huckster behind the curtain, and clicks her heels three times.  The music is solid, but not mind melting.  This ain't West Side Story or Yankee Doodle Dandy.  Judy Garland certainly sells the weird awe that Franco seemed incapable of in the prequel (speaking of which, you should check out Greg Proops' latest Smartest Man In The World podcast in which he rips apart Raimi's intention - it's all about suffragettes, man).  The Wizard of Oz is not the classic dare not remade or prequelized.  It's fun.  It's iconic.  But it's also not genius.  L Frank Baum's world is worthy of exploration.  If you're not already familiar with it, I highly recommend Disney's Return to Oz.  That's a flick that captures the scary with the weird, and probably the best adaptation of Baum's Oz so far.  Gnome King.  Gross.

The Thief of Bagdad:  "You shall add joy to the wedding festival by being boiled in oil."  This silent starts off slow.  Douglas Fairbanks is a real scalawag, skulking the streets of Bagdad, picking the pockets of the hapless saps unlucky enough to stumble his way.  But, halfway through the film, after he wins the heart of the princess from the Mongol Madman, the film quickly enters a grande world of fantasy.  Dragons must be slayed.  Carpets must be flown.  And diabolical magicians must get knocked on their butts.  Fairbanks is all charm and smiles.  Watching him Harrison Ford his way through the mystically massive silent film sets is true spectacle.  Not as magnificent as Fritz Lang's Metropolis or as joyous as Chaplin's Modern Times, but Thief of Bagdad now ranks as my third favorite silent.

All New X-Men #8:  Yes.  This series certainly suffers from Brian Michael Bendis' typical decompression style, but - like the best of Ultimate Spider-Man - you don't really mind when the characters are having this much fun exploring their new future surroundings.  Well, "fun" is not the right word.  The young Warren is certainly disturbed by his future self.  Metal Wings.  Angelic delusions.  And lots and lots of side stepping dialog.  Captain America shows up to play Mr. Bossy Pants.  And then Jean Grey starts to exhibit the true magnitude of her power and that properly scares the hell outta the rest of the cast.  I'm not ready to be finished with the high concept time travel terror, and I hope Bendis gives these guys plenty of time to freak out before they adjust to their surroundings.

Daredevil - End of Days #6:  "I wanted a trophy."  Probably my favorite issue from this sad, sad, sad series so far.  Ben Urich gets a little closer to the Mapone mystery, and his confrontation with Kingpin wannabe The Owl gets rather scary.  However, the best bits of this issue involve The Purple Man and The Punisher.  And one whispering panel.  Each issue of this book tends to leave you hanging, but I have a strong feeling like End of Days is gonna be one hell of a great trade to end Bendis' run on Daredevil.

Avengers #7:  Jonathan Hickman's Big Picture comes a little into focus as "The White Event" unveils the return of a long lost New Universe creation, The Starbrand.  Captain America & company still seem like blank slates in their own book but I'm hoping Hickman's plot is worth the character skimping.  Time will tell, but I'm on board.  The last page actually raised a smile, something this reader of issue #3 would be surprised to hear.  But man, I wish this series (and a lot of other Marvel Now series) had a consistent artist.  Avengers jumping all over the place is not helped by the artist swaps.

Detective Comics #18:  The first Batman book since the death of Damian Wayne, Detective Comics might get slapped with the "Requiem" banner but the grieving process is little more than a page, a solitary tear.  After seemingly forced to acknowledge Scott Snyder's Death of the Family arc, writer John Layman is finally been given the space to write his Emperor Penguin plot.  And it's solid stuff.  Oswald Cobblepot's world is falling apart; his henchman Ignatius Oglivy has successful barred him from his bank accounts and underbelly goons - and then he makes it personal.  Don't mess with Mom, man.  I almost wish The Dark Knight wasn't involved.  I know soon enough he's going to have to make this family squabble a priority but I kinda like this civil war sizzling independently from the Bat family.

Helheim #1:  Sixth Gun writer Cullen Bunn trades gunfighters for vikings, but there's still plenty of spooky sorcery at play.  As far as first issues go it's decent enough.  A lot of characters are thrown our way with little to differentiate one from the other.  A hunting party flees a horde of skeleton ghosts, some men die, and witchcraft seems to bring one back to life.  Frankenstein Viking?  Maybe.  I can't say I'm in love with this concept, but I'm interested enough and I really do love The Sixth Gun, so I'll keep plugging away.

Snitch:  There is almost nothing original or even interesting about this movie.  It's plot is as dull as the thinnest of tv movies.  The son of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson accepts the wrong package from the wrong pothead and quickly discovers the big dick hammer of American Justice.  Susan Sarandon is ready to set him to the wolves, but he proves better bait when The Rock offers up some serious drug kingpins via his trucking business.  Michael Williams (The Wire) is unfortunately pedestrian as the ghetto gangster, but through his crack house gateway we find Benjamin Bratt's El Topo - and boy! he has some fun playing the cartel monster.  Bratt has seconds on the screen, but he slathers the scenery and might have been the film's highlight if not for Barry Pepper's grotesque undercover man.  With the combo of Snitch & True Grit, Pepper has perfected the goatee bark.  He snips and snarls and deserves a film all his own.  It's time to forgive the sins of Battlefield Earth.  Sure, The Rock is solid.  Roger Ebert, in his review, believes Snitch to house his best performance.  Maybe.  I can see it.  But the film is too average to leave notice.  I'm gonna keep Faster as The Rock's finest effort.  Snitch will be forgotten in two months time.  After all, we've got GI Joe 2 & Furious 6 right around the corner.

Justified - Season 4 "Get Drew":  Drew Thompson has been discovered, and he's on the run from both Raylan & Boyd.  Good luck to that poor bastard.  We've only got three episodes left and the proverbial shit hits the fan in the last few seconds of this ep.  Theo Tonin's helicopters are descending, war is here...and then out steps Limehouse, covered in pig's blood and waving around a great big gory knife.  I was shocked at how much glee I got from the return of the slaughterhouse master.  Justified proves that Elmore Leonard's universe is just as well kept and cherished as anything within Marvel or DC comics.  Very cool.  Still, I know the next episode is going to be the real beast of the season.  Harlan County is gonna be covered in bullets and bodies.

Darkman:  "I'm learning to live with a lot of things."  When Sam Raimi couldn't get the rights to The Shadow he went ahead and did it anyway.  Before he got Taken or wolfpunched his way into Action Hero stardom, Liam Neeson was the pissed-off skin doctor Peyton Westlake aka Darkman.  A monster of the shadows created through bubbling vats of acid and the murderous grin of Larry Drake.  But the beauty of Darkman is not the black trench coat or the dirty brown bandages.  Nope, the giddy glee of the character stems from his inability to feel pain after the "accident"; with the loss of pain comes a loss of humanity as well as Super Powered Rage.  Yes.  Rage Is Darkman's Weapon.  But Rage makes for a sad Frankenstein-like creature.  Neeson is heartbreaking.  The infamous pink elephant sequence is good for a youtube laugh, but his inability to temper his rage around his wife is also deeply unsettling and painfully awkward.  Darkman is a mad hero, no more marbles - he's lost it.  He has an idea of love, but anger and vengeance are his only motivators.  You can see his continuing adventures in a pair of direct-to-video duds, as well as a laughable Marvel Comics series and a so-so Dynamite reboot.  But nothing touches the original beast.

Army of Darkness:  "Yo she-bitch.  Let's go."  These days we've got a lot of folks up in arms about the impending Evil Dead remake.  Some cry "Sacrilege!"  But ya know what, both Evil Dead 2 & Army of Darkness are semi-remakes of the original film and both sequels take on their own unique tones.  I certainly prefer the first two flicks, but Army of Darkness is a goofball riot - Three Stooges strained through Famous Monsters of Filmland.  Bruce Campbell is at his cornball coolest here.  Ash, caught in time, butting heads with primitive screwheads and getting groovy with his Mirror Universe self.  At the very least, Army of Darkness blasts a barrage of epic one-liners and prides itself on its old man humor.  Sure, "Hail To The King" & "This is my Boomstick" will dawn nerd shirts till the end of time.

Drag Me To Hell:  Is this Sam Raimi's atonement for the Spider-Man trilogy?   Maybe not.  But it certainly feels like Raimi trying to get back to his roots.  Get small.  Rediscover his ram-o-cam heart.  And in some ways he succeeds.  But in other ways its just a sad reminder of a simpler, sweeter time.  Allison Lohman is a power hungry bank manager scrambling to free herself from her fat hick past.  When she steamrolls over a milky eyed gypsy as a means of impressing her boss she inherits a curse so spectacularly gross that a drag to hell almost feels like a relief.  Seriously, Lohman is spit upon, puked on, slathered in mud, blood, and guts.  Raimi is a demented child splashing as much goo as the KNB effects crew can fill in their buckets.  I certainly had to turn away from the screen during a few gagging bits.  Green Goblins certainly don't got nothing on demon possessed goats.  So, yeah, Drag Me To Hell has a certain charm.  But it's a pretender at its core.

Sledge-Hammer 44 #1:  "Robots!!  Robots are fighting this damn war!!"  Another piece of The Mignolaverse revealed.  Spinning from Lobster Johnson's The Iron Prometheus, Sledge Hammer 44 is a bit of robot on robot violence set at the tail end of WWII.  A bomb is dropped on a Nazi occupied French village.  But there is no explosion.  Instead, Mike Mignola's idea of an Iron Man steps forth and it lunges into battle against a giant mechanical monstrosity.  Crash Boom Bang.  Simple.  Crazy.  Very much a BPRD book.  All too brief.  The story concludes in the very next issue and I'm not sure how important this book is going to be to the rest of the world, but it's fun nonetheless.

Wolverine #1:  Um, I don't know what the hell is going on in this first issue, nor do I understand the need for yet another Wolverine book.  However, Alan Davis art is badass and I certainly love watching laser blasts tear Logan's flesh from his bones.  There's something about a psycho kid and his psycho dad, and I'm certain a larger conspiracy will be revealed.  I don't think this is essential Marvel now reading, but it's worth it for the art.  If you agree with that sort of cash spending than go ahead and pick up the book.  If words are your thing then you might want to hold out.

Batman & Robin #18:  Not sure why I bought this book.  I'm not reading it on a monthly basis and I have no intention of starting.  I guess Grant Morrison's Batman Inc #8 really got to me.  I need to see the fallout immediately, and even though these "Requiem" titles feel like they exist in a continuity completely seperate from Grant's work, it's nice to get a little closure on Damian.  Writer Peter Tomasi goes wordless for his contribution.  Batman takes to the night and savagely beats as many Gotham City punks as he can; he returns home and finds a sorta "Farewell" letter from his son.  It reads, "Mother may have given me life, but you taught me how to live."  Dammit.  That got to me.  I'm still not going to believe that any of these books are the real deal; I want to see how Grant's going to delve out the repercussions in Batman Inc.  But these Requiem titles offer some condolence.

Thor - God of Thunder #6:  The Origin of The God Butcher is revealed...and it's lame.  Which, of course, is a real bummer as I've been loving pretty much every issue of Jason Aaron's series so far.  But this is pretty typical stuff.  Life was hard on Gorr.  Wife died.  Kid died.  Gods are Bastards.  And when Gorr stumbles upon some crazy alien tech he goes psycho on the gods of the universe.  This issue shouldn't exist.  It's not important why Gorr is The God Butcher, only that he is The God Butcher.  And now knowing his sadsack story, he's a little bit weaker.

Batman #18:  The kernel of this story is the same one at the core of Batman & Robin #18.  Batman deals with the death of Robin by pummeling the brutes of Gotham.  Unfortunately, Snyder also uses it as an opportunity to seemingly push his creation Harper Row into the boots of the boy wonder.  I really loved both The Black Mirror & The Court of Owls, but Scott Snyder is not the savior of the bat family some fanboys once thought.  Especially when you compare this single issue against Tomasi's single issue.  So wordy.  So unnecessary.  Hopefully he can get things back on track with Zero Year - more history mystery, less same-old rogue beatings.

Evil Dead 2:  How do you write about a film that lives in your bones?  I've been obsessed with The Evil Dead franchise for so long that I don't remember a time I didn't love this film.  Bruce Campbell.  His smile.  His chin.  His voice.  "Work shed."  Evil Dead 2 is a wild ride of splatstick.  And as alluded above it has very little in common with the original film.  This is not low budget horror movie know-how.  This is a descent into madness.  But as lamps laugh and deer shriek, the laughter can be as scary as the penetrating branches of a tree.  The rocking chair nightmare is really unnerving.  And Campbell sells every howl of fear.  You can beer guzzle this film with your friends and a have a serious blast, but you can also have a singular trip into insanity if you choose.  Evil Dead 2 is Sam Raimi's masterpiece.  No doubt.

Dark Horse Books Presents - Blacksad:  "I was damned too."  Picked for our tenth meeting of The Ultimate Justice League of Extraordinary Book Club, this hardcover collection containing Juan Diaz Canales & Guarnido badass cat detective was easily our most successful venture yet.  Not one person in the group disliked it.  Of course, I can't say that I'm surprised.  Similar to Roman Polanski's Chinatown, Blacksad envelops everything you love about the P.I. subgenre and presents it in a fresh, gripping manner.  Yes.  All the players are mammals & amphibians (fish are too dumb for personalities), but this isn't some creepy furry.  Here we get three typical plots.  The Dead Starlet, The Race Killing, & The Commie Conspiracy.  John Blacksad hits each case with gumshoe dread.  He's been around the block and knows that most narratives are tragedies.  He beats the street.  He deals out his stamp of morality.  He moves on.  These are solid stories, but the real elevation occurs in Guarnido's art.  The man doesn't just excel with the trench coats and painted backdrops - no one can match his faces.  A lot of the art we see on American comic stands is churned through a monthly timeline; one nice aspect about Euro books is that they're given the time they need for completion.  The result is genuine art. I don't want to sound snooty against Spider-Man - cuz I love him too!  But you've got to recognize the freedom behind Guarnido's beauty.  There's patience behind his strokes, and the emotion is absolutely recognizable.  For more ranting excitement, read Matt's full review HERE.

Ministry of Fear:  "He has a collection of maniacs that he's psycho analyzing!"  A seriously bent WWII mystery dripped from the pen of Graham Greene and lensed by the madman Fritz Lang.  Just moments after his release from a mental asylum, Ray Milland wanders into a small town fair just outside of London.  The Blitz might be raging, but there's always time for a palm reading!  Given odd knowledge by the fortune teller, Milland wins a fresh baked cake from a grey haired contest.  He whisks his award from a grimacing Dan Duryea and steps onto a train where blind sharpshooters and Nazi bombs crave his demise.  Such a bonkers setup.  Perfectly Hitchcock.  Ministry of Fear certainly excels with the strange.  The best bits involve murderous seances and sheer wielding agents of the SS.  Not to mention Milland's loose hold on his sanity.  Maybe not as visually compelling as Lang's silents, the film is still one of the more unusual macguffin spy pictures of the era.  If only the plot didn't waver on the supernatural, we might have had a mondo classic.

The Evil Dead:  Growing up The Evil Dead was an object of cherished showmanship.  Similar to what Roger Corman proved throughout the 60s & 70s, Sam Raimi unveiled to the fanboy that all you needed to craft a classic were some friends and a camera.  Of course, a few hundred buckets of karo syrup are always helpful.  There is nothing to the story.  Five friends in a cabin.  A tape recorder in the basement.  Magic words on the air.  Deadite horror siege!  It's the behind the camera stuff that puts the film on the map.  The ram-o-cam.  Just a camera on a plank of wood.  But nothing like it had been seen before.   Bruce Campbell shows some serious charisma as our third act hero, but he's also not the bonafide cult icon he'd inhabit in the next film.  He's sweet here.  Loving.  And scared outta his mind.  It's easy to see why so many cherish it today even if youngins might not grasp its craft.  The Evil Dead is hope for the wannabe.  It's cheap.  Small.  But vast in ambition and righteously successful in its ingenuity.  The perfect example of independent spirit so often lauded on Miramax millionaires.

--Brad