Brad's Week in Dork! (2/23/14-3/1/14)

I spent most of this week ticking off the last batch of Oscar Nominees, feverishly anticipating Sunday's Super Bowl.  I was perfectly content with my adequate consumption of the Major Nominees (12 Years A Slave, Gravity, August - Osage County, etc), but after I got wind of my friend Lindsey's plan to burn through ALL nominations, I kicked it up a notch.  Best Picture?  Best Actor?  Forget that.  Let's go crazy with Best Makeup, Sound Mixing, and Original Song!  Knocking out Bad Grampa & All Is Lost first thing, I spent most of the week working through the Animated Feature category.  The Croods, Despicable Me 2, Frozen, The Wind Rises.  Boy.  None of them really interested me during their initial releases, and I wouldn't have bothered if not for The Academy Awards.  Frankly, the only 2013 animated films I cared about were Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs 2 (TACOZILLA!) and Escape From Planet Earth...yeah...well, you know...Shatner.  The less said about Monsters University, Planes, and the decline of Pixar the better.  Hell, 2014 is already looking brighter thanks to The Lego Movie, but let's cross fingers that How To Train Your Dragon 2 & The Box Trolls deliver this goods this year.

But as much fun as I had hopping back and forth from the Angelika to Landmark's Bethesda Row, my favorite theatrical experience of the week (and the best damn movie I watched) was the Alamo Drafthouse's Tough Guy Cinema screening of Streets of Fire.  Nice to see a crowd show up for Walter Hill's hyper stylized rock & roll fable, and as many times as I've fallen in love with Diane Lane's Ellen Aim, this was the first time I was utterly hypnotized by her opening performance.  Just wow.  One of my regular cinematic rants is how Jessica Alba totally fails as Nancy in Sin City, and watching Lane own that crowd and that camera just absolutely accentuated Alba's Frank Miller failure.  Diane Lane is astonishing in this movie.  So great to see this 80s oddity again, and I really need to track down a high def copy cuz Streets of Fire is a Once-A-Year-Watch for sure.  Easy to see why this is one of Matt's Favorite Films.

Jackass Presents - Bad Grandpa:  Like other Jackassy productions, there are a few cheap laughs to be found here, but how many times can you watch an asshole get kicked in the balls before you've had enough?  Somewhere Bob Saget is screaming, "NEVER!"  I do not like the candid camera format, tricking simpletons into gross-out scenarios is the lowest form of humor.  And I don't care how many dolts get fooled by Johnny Knoxville's latexed face, Bad Grampa has no business earning a Makeup & Hairstyle nomination.  Under the scrutiny of HD cameras, Grampa's mug looks like fat, sweaty putty.  It's not like the Oscars are free from W-T-F acknowledgements, but it hurts a little to see such a base concept receive encouragement.  Am I just a middle aged fuddy duddy?  Maybe.  But I'd rather watch a million subpar South Park episodes than witness Knoxville's stretched-out scrotum.

All Is Lost:  I very much enjoy watching the process of survival.  I love how this film has the confidence to trap its audience on the boat, and reveal character only through the tiniest bits of detail.  It's a great performance experiment, and All Is Lost succeeds with tension in ways that Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity stumbles about in cheap symbolism.  However, as I watched this late at night (or far too early in the morning), I found myself drifting around the halfway mark.  Not locked down in the theater seat, as each attempt at life fails, I lost interest in the hell this Old Man had created for himself. Maybe I do need a Wilson to talk to, or maybe an interior monologue.  Such concepts would certainly weaken the craft on display, but I just never fully engaged with Redford's plight.  Or I could have simply not been in the mood.

The Croods:  This one surprised me a bit.  Quest For Fire, but "For Kids!"  Nicolas Cage certainly works as the chromag dad terrified to venture out beyond his cave.  His voice lends an enthusiasm to his character in ways we haven't seen from him in a long, long time (about three or four Direct-to-DVDs ago).  Continental Drift forces the clan to explore their backyard, and it's a beautiful nightmare of owl-wovles & piranha-birds.  If you're at all familiar with the whacky, nonsensical design of the Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs films then you'll be happily equipped to handle the absurdity on display in the Land of the Lost.  The themes of curiosity & fear are simple, but important to the young audience, and The Croods is easily the most inventive looking film of the Animated Feature nominations.  A classic?  Naw.  But you know...fun for the whole family.

Despicable Me 2:  I do not care about Steve Carrell's Gru or his Good Dad/Bad Guy routine.  His story of romance and world domination holds zero interest.  But those minions?  They are just too cute for words.  I hate myself for loving them so much, but a ten second dream sequence in which one yellow fella falls head over heels for Kristen Wiig is abso-freaking-dorable.  And Isaac Washington Minion!!!  I want that toy now.  The rest of the movie?  Whatever.

Frozen:  This one suffered from the hype machine.  After weeks of friends, family, and co-workers telling me this is the best film Disney has released in ages, I was bound to finish Frozen with a lackluster spirit.  The film is pretty enough.  I dig the sibling love story.  The snowman character isn't even that annoying (shocker!).  But the film felt rushed to me.  Blinked and it was over.  I was disappointed when the real villain revealed himself, and the songs were Broadway light.  I should have seen this opening weekend, but with the world going ga-ga for Adele Dazeem, the contrarian in me wants to champion The Croods or The Wind Rises instead.  Not terrible.  It's on par with Tangled.  Good enough.

The Wind Rises:  "The Dream is Cursed."  I am not a worshiper at the alter of Miyazaki.  I've enjoyed a few of his films in the past (Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away), but I've always felt a little alienated by the anime aesthetic.  Jingoism?  I've always feared that.  I like my cartoons Don Bluth.  Gasping Characters, Big Eyes, and Speed Lines?  No thanks.  American animation certainly has its own batch of annoyances, but my mind has remained shut on Anime & Manga since my 12 year old self first encountered it with Vampire Hunter D.  But I'm trying to grow.  Thanks to books like Gon, Domu, Lone Wolf & Cub, I'm more willing then ever to embrace Japan's greatest export.  Not to mention the sad fact that American Animation refuses to pull itself out of Mother Goose storytelling.  The closest we've come to exploring mature stories in the medium are Pixar's Up & Wes Andreson's Fantastic Mr. Fox.  Utterly pathetic.  The Wind Rises claims to be Miyazaki's farewell film, and I hope he sticks this landing as its a perfect sendoff.  Not the magical fantasy we've come to expect from the filmmaker, this film is a pseudo biography of airplane designer Jiro Horikoshi.  Doing his best to ignore the moral quandary of selling beauty to the military, and witnessing his art transformed into killing machines, Jiro battles apocalyptic nightmares and a doomed romance.  Filled with dread and sadness, I really enjoyed the dreamscape Jiro shares with Italian engineer Caproni; their conversations in regards to the airplanes military destiny contribute the film's greatest narrative meat.  The not-so-rom-com that occurs halfway through never seems fully realized, but there is enough misery there to complement the film's gloomy inevitability.  Not quite enough to make me a believer, as a fan of animation, it's obvious that I have to look outside my borders if I want to experience tales beyond fuzzy animals.

Streets of Fire:  When Ellen Aim (the breathtakingly badass Diane Lane) returns to her hometown for a rock show extravaganza, she's targeted by Willem Dafoe's Black Leather Motorcycle Club.  Kidnapped and dragged into the depths of retro 80s hell, Rick Moranis & Michael Pare assemble a squad of rock & roll weirdos (groupies! motowners! rockabilly bartenders, a lesbian, maybe!) to raid the biker bar and declare sledgehammer warfare.  As ex soldier Tom Cody, Pare delivers his super sincere one-liners with all of his acting might, and follicaly challenged facial hair.  He manages to bounce back & forth from the laughably ridiculous to the totally cool, something that only seems possible in that childhood decade.  The out-of-time reality and skyscraper performances condemn Streets of Fire as a cult favorite, but it's a Kool-Aid I don't mind drinking.  From the uber masculine mind that brought us 48 Hours, Southern Comfort, Extreme Prejudice,  and The Warriors, director Walter Hill was the master of the generational gem.  Streets of Fire is a rootin' tootin' crowd pleaser for stunted youth everywhere.

Rocky IV:  When I came home from The Alamo, I wanted to continue that thrill of 1980s cinema, and in my mind no other movie sums up the Reagan Era better than Sylvester Stallone's bombastic franchise killer.   Follow-up films were bound to fail after Rocky IV crushed communism's super science, resulting in the Berlin Wall's collapse.  Using the power of Montage (30 minutes worth in a 90 minute movie!), Rocky trains faster, harder, and beardier than his Giant Evil Foreign counterpart, avengers the death of Apollo Creed, and secures the love of his family through staged violence.  Plus, Paulie marries a robot!!!  Did the 80s produce better movies?  Raiders of the Lost Ark?  Blade Runner?  Raging Bull?  NOOOO!  It does not get better than "I Must Break You."  Case closed.

Omar:  Why are all "important" films so dang sad?  Watching through this year's nominees it's obvious that The Academy only has room in its heart to mope.  My quest for total Oscar domination brought me face-to-face with a lot of tragedies, and the Foreign Film category practically delivered me into a state of despair.  Omar is the story of a Palestinian revolutionary caught between his freedom fighter responsibilities and the love of a comrade's sister.  But as tensions build and plans result in death, imprisonment, more death, more imprisonment, and more death, I started to see Omar as less of a message movie, and more as a thrilling crime saga staged against the West Bank.  Think Donnie Brasco with the added bonus of systemized hatred.  I didn't leave the theater weepy as I did with Broken Circle Breakdown or The Hunt.  Instead it was a sensation more akin to surviving a James Ellroy novel.  A good time?  Actually...yeah.

The Invisible Woman:  After the boiling violence of Coriolanus, director Ralph Fiennes tackles the burdensome lust of every college professor's favorite novelist.  Having produced a litter of children and grown tired of his wife, the wandering eye of Charles Dickens lands on a supposedly talentless young actress.  They strike up an affair for some reason, causing a stir amongst the London press, and a not-so-secret shame for their family.  The film looks nice.  I suppose it earns its Wardrobe nomination.  Screenwriter Abi Morgan certainly frames the story in an intriguing fashion, and Fiennes pulls fine melodrama from his actors.  But the story left me cold.  I never fully understood the actions of the characters, nor did I ever really care.  The best I can say is that for thirty seconds or so while the film played I contemplated pulling the dusty Dickens off my book shelf.  But the moment passed.

The Book Thief:  I hated this movie.  A Hallmark Holocaust Adventure brought to you by the voice of God and John Williams's token Oscar nomination.  A young girl learns to read while Nazis burn books in the streets and hatred sweeps the nation in the most offensively banal depiction of World War II I have ever experienced.  I think it's all well and good to remember the horrors of the past.  In fact, it's deadly important.  Our society needs films like Schindler's List & 12 Years A Slave every decade or so as a reminder of human nature's horrific capability.  But The Book Thief delivers its message with about as much passion as an after school special.  It feels like a checkmark in a high school history class.  Infuriating.

Anchorman 2 - Supersized R Rated Edition:  Simply fascinating.  The narrative is the same.  Ron Burgundy travels to the big city unleashing the hell of the 24 hour news cycle upon our hapless society.  But half the jokes are different.  Improvised comedy is both wonderful and terrible.  You film one scene thirty different ways with thirty different lines, and suddenly you can cut thirty different films.  Or at least two solidly different films.  But I preferred the original Anchorman 2.  Maybe because it's jokes were better, but probably because it was my first experience with the script.  I still managed to laugh my ass of here, but the Supersized edition fascinated/perplexed me more than anything else.  A great bonus feature, but was it worth the second price of admission?  Still working it out.

--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (2/23/14-3/1/14)

    Some weeks are lazy and restful, others are this one.  I spent much of this week away from the Matt-Pad, and quite frankly, my bed and I need a little quality time together.  But I did get to knock another of my all time favorite films off the ‘to see on the big screen’ list.  I also picked up, but haven't had time to listen to, the new St. Vincent cd.  Maybe next week.

Pompeii:  Brace yourselves.  I know you were expecting greatness.  But sadly, I must report that this movie was, in reality, quite terrible.  In 3D for some reason (it was the only showing we could make it to), the most impressive element of the movie was the writers’ Herculean effort to cram every obvious cliché and awkward turn of phrase imaginable into such a relatively short (but way, way too long) runtime.  A boy’s family is killed by an evil Roman (played by a terrible Kiefer Sutherland).  Of course, he then becomes the ultimate gladiator of Londinium, as we see all  the usual gladiator movie sequences.  Naturally, he attracts the attention of a powerful man, who then takes him to Pompeii, where, yes, you guessed it, the evil Kiefercus is being evil at the locals.  In the usual fashion, our gladiator hero (who somehow maintains not only an absolutely grueling gym routine from the looks of his abs, but is also a charismatic rebel leader in the making…I guess) wins the heart of a ridiculously modern woman (Her slave-girl is her bestie, she loves horses, and she’s so against the oppression of Rome and stuff, or whatever. And that slave boy who likes horses, too?  Oh, he’s just too dreamy.).  Then he befriends (wait for it) a black gladiator, who has a well rounded and deep background that makes you care so much for him.  You see, he’s…Um…He’s a black gladiator…And he, um…Well, he wants to be free.  Or something.  Whatever.  That’s what they did in Spartacus and Gladiator, so that’s what they’re gonna do here.  And after every scene ends with a shot of the mountain, the mountain explodes.  But don’t worry (they’re not), there’s still plenty of sequences of people chatting, leisurely looking into each others’ eyes, and generally not running the hell away from the exploding mountain.  I’d say they broadcast all the twists, but there aren’t any.  This is a shoddy, boring rehash of every flipping Sword & Sandals movie ever made.  When it’s not defying logic and sense, it’s denying excitement and charm.  And at no point in this film are you unaware that it’s PG-13.  It’s bloodless, sexless, and toothless.

101 Dalmatians:  This early 60s Disney film has a good story, with plenty of adventure, and not a lot of time wasting.  It’s quick, it’s cute, and it’s got plenty of heart.  Cruella De Vil is a solid, demented villain, with a couple of fun, dopy henchmen.  After being disappointed with my recent viewing of Alice in Wonderland, it was nice to see a good Disney cartoon from its classic age.  And Rod Taylor!

Vikings Season One:  This is a show I’m pretty darned shocked to find myself really enjoying.  It starts out kind of wonky, but by the mid-point of the season, I was on board, and by the season finale, I was excited to see what would happen next.  It occasionally feels a bit restrained, probably in light of shows like Game of Thrones, which could never be accused of restraint.  But it’s pretty violent and full of complexity that I find refreshing.  Ragnar is no angel, his wife no saint.  But as a pair, they’re fascinating to watch.  And the rest of the cast is pretty good.  The only major issue I have with the first season is Gabriel Byrne.  I like Byrne, but every time he was on screen, it felt like the writers left the room.  I don’t know what was going on, or what the thinking was, but his character was not well written, plotted, or thought through.  Still, overall, a surprisingly good show.

Streets of Fire:  “Tonight is what it means to be young.”  I just love this movie (it’s #15 on my all time favorites list).  And finally, thanks to the Alamo Drafthouse, I got a chance to see it on the big screen.  Like Brazil, it’s set in a no-time/no-place that I find particularly appealing in its 80s/50s way.  The characters are all archetypes, the story is basic Western, and the music is wonderfully eclectic, from sleazy Rockabilly to operatic Jim Steinman, and the acting is…well, it’s charming.  I love the action and the attitude.  There really aren’t a lot of other films out there quite like this one.  It is part of that 80s thing, where if you dance or rock hard enough, you can change the world.  But it’s so much more than that.  Watching it puts a big smile on my face.  But like a lot of films that came out before the advent of the internet and modern hipsters, you’ve got to watch it with your heart on your sleeve, and without a cynical thought in your head.  Just bask in the fantasy of this Rock and Roll Fantasy.

Mr. Nobody:  What can one say about a movie like this?  I think it comes down to ‘did you enjoy the ride?’  And in my case, yes I did.  A meditation on the paths life takes, the paths it might have, and everything in between.  And some stuff about string theory and the multiverse.  Sure.  The actors are all good, though it almost felt like casting Sarah Polley as the horrible, depressed woman was stunt casting.  She’s so very good at making you hate her, it’s like a superpower.  And she’s rockin’ it in this movie.  Almost every time she opened her mouth, I wanted to Lennie Small her ass.  It’s a head scratcher, for sure.  And it’s not going to be for everyone.  But for this cat, I think it’ll require an eventual re-watch, and I may just come to really enjoy it.  I do like at least part of its message, about the value of different paths and different lives.  It’ll make you think.  I’m sure for a philosophy major, it’s pretty shallow, but compared to pap like Gravity, it’s pretty good.

Magnificent Butcher:  This is a bit of a challenge.  On the one hand, the fighting is pretty cool, and a lot of various and sometimes somewhat obscure forms are on display.  Great.  However, the tone is so all over the map that it becomes distracting.  For the first half, it’s all pretty light hearted, with comic misunderstandings and occasional brawls.  Then a guy gets too handsy with a woman…then murder.  Cold blooded murder while failing to sexually assault.  Um.  That’s not funny.  And then, a moment later, a comedy scene about finding the body.  What?  From there on, it’s up and down, from comic to brutal as various kung fu fighters clash, goof, and kill.  Even the final battle feels pretty awkward, as the ‘evil’ master isn’t really that bad, and he’s trying to avenge his son.  And then it ends on a laugh.  OK.  Chinese comedy has never played that well with me, and this is no exception.  But the fighting is really cool.

Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues (extended version):  I don’t know if I simply wasn’t in the right mood, or if I responded better to the takes used in this version, but I enjoyed myself a heck of a lot more the second time around.  From the musical number and the Spider-Man hate, to the alternate family dinner scene, I found myself more engaged and getting more belly laughs.  Unlike Anchorman’s alternate version Wake Up Ron Burgundy, this extended cut is essentially the same film from a story standpoint, but with many alternate takes and extra scenes.  I think this felt more in tune with what I loved about the first film.  But again, it may have been different circumstances that led to a different opinion.  I don’t know.

5 Centimeters Per Second:  This is the third film I’ve seen from writer/director Makoto Shinkai, and if he’s not careful, he might start to change my overall feelings toward anime.  Voices of a Distant Star and The Place Promised in Our Early Days were very effecting, beautifully animated movies that practically burn with intense nostalgia.  And I mean ‘nostalgia,’ the mix of happiness, sadness, and longing.  Though his character design is in keeping with the near ubiquitous style of Japanese animation (simple shapes, androgyny, big eyes, and pointy chins) the rest of the film stands out as a visual feast.  His color palette, framing, and detail are all gorgeous.  This film consists of three short stories, each dealing with hearts at a distance, coming together and moving apart.  Though I found the final story a bit of a let down, I think it does work with the whole, and it gets the message of the film across.  It just wasn’t as satisfying as the first two.  Shinkai’s work is something I’m going to keep my eye out for.  His is a voice I want to hear more from.

    On Saturday, Satnam and I got the material and did preliminary work on building the set for the film he’ll be shooting in a few weeks.  You can sure see how having a budget would make the potential set more interesting, more detailed.  I think what we’ve got will be fine, and most importantly, won’t distract from the acting.  But with a few thousand dollars, a couple of trained artists/builders, and a few weeks of work, I could see building a really good set.  It makes me think again about my idea for doing a public access type sci-fi show.  I think it could be done.

It looked nothing like this.

    Later on Saturday, we got together for another meeting of the graphic novel discussion group to talk about Thor: God of Thunder.  The group was a bit smaller than usual, but still a good turn out.  I was surprised and somewhat dismayed to find the feelings on the book divided mostly on gender lines.  At no point while I was reading the book did that come into my head as a possible problem point.  It’s dealing with religion was what I thought would get the most disagreement.  I loved the book, and it wasn’t about getting in touch with my 12 year old self.  It was more about enjoying a classically mythological tale told within the Marvel universe.

    So, that was the week, and this next one is already looking brutal.  When did I become this guy?  When did I get such a busy and active social life?  I’m still the same introvert I always was.  I still need to go home, hide in my room, and not deal with people.  That time to recharge has been limited recently, and I’m going to have to do something about that before too long.  Still, a lot of good memories being made.

-Matt

Brad's Week in Dork! (1/5/14-1/11/14)

Blink and you'll miss it.  That's what this week felt like.  2014 has barely started and I can already feel it slipping away.  I spent a good chunk of it compiling this year's Cinematic Resolutions, but I'm not quite ready to tackle any of them yet - which is certainly foolish if I have any hope in hades of devouring those Godzilla flicks before the latest reboot hits the big screen.  Gotta get hot.  I did manage to finish off Sweet Tooth & begin Grant Morrison's Animal Man.  Feels good to be tackling comics outside of the weeklies, and I hope it's a trend that lasts.  I'm tired of looking at all those unread trades piling up next to the bookshelf - Gotham Central, Doom Patrol, Infinite Kung Fu, Rasl, Swamp Thing, Loveless, and our next entry in the Graphic Novel Book Club, Sailor Twain.  New Year, and I want to refocus some of my dork energy into the other pop mediums.  Let's not forget I'm only halfway through Richard Stark's Parker series, and Darwyn Cooke is already adapting novels beyond my knowledge.  That ain't cool.

"What A World!" & "I'm Melting...I'm Melting!" by Jason Edmiston

I'm not bitching and moaning about the week, it just feels like it lacked focus.  I want to buckle down, but I guess I'm still decompressing from the massive 2013 movie dump I did in December.  This week started with a Late Show Drafthouse screening of Walter Hill's The Warriors.  My buddy Herms was in town from Texas, and it was a blast subjecting his fresh eyes to the Gang War crazy of late 70s New York City.  Yep.  This is the way it was folks.  Fact.  Matt & I also finally got ourselves around to witnessing the atrocity of the latest 47 Ronin.  Oh man.  What a waste.   So...yeah...the real highlight of the week was easily the Alamo 100 Raiders of the Lost Ark screening.  I've seen that film well over a hundred times now (at least 4 on the Big Screen), and it just never gets old.  Me & Indiana Jones?  It's true love.

The Warriors:  "I don't like the way you live." Ok.  I don't love The Warriors.  It's one of those seminal films of my youth that I just never bothered with.  The first time I saw the movie, I was 18/19 and well on my way to being a snooty film freak.  My initial thought back then was that Walter Hill perfected this sort of whacko gang land in his rock opera Streets of Fire.  Still, this film is a bit of a wonder, and I absolutely love its earnestness.  Here's a New York City in which Mimes rove the streets looking for trouble, where Baseball Furies terrify in warpaint, and where hillbillies in roller skates are the toughest dudes on the block. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of skinhead goons marauding about in a Road Warrior wagon. It's all about honor, friendship, and gash....uh...yeah, there are some awkward moments. The Warriors themselves always seem like a bad date away from running a train on their female companion - I know this, cuz our hero Swan says exactly that.  James Remar is the angry tough guy that gets taken off the stage when he fails to rape an undercover police woman.  So yeah, The Warriors, it's not too PC.  It's an icky fantasyland birthed from the same community fear that brought us Bernie Goetz and his cinematic Death Wish.   It's nearly two hours of confused, but somewhat intoxicating outlaw philosophy.  After all, as The Director's Cut clumsily establishes at the start, The Warriors is a story of courage similar to that of the 300 Spartans......uh....wha?

Sweet Tooth Vol 6 - Wild Game:  Gosh darn.  I just could not get past how damn sad this series got.  In a lot of ways it reminded me of Brian K Vaughn's Y The Last Man.  A Post-apocalyptic landscape.  An on-the-road quest to discovery the origin of a plague.  Bonds of friendship.  Bonds of love.   Maybe it's Lemire's somber, sometimes morose art-style, but I could never really connect to any other emotion than sorrow.  Sweet Tooth & Company finally reach their Alaskan destination, but the answers there are typically more ponderous than narratively satisfying.  Lemire writes a helluva page-turner; once I got back into this series, I was racing to the climax.  I love the sequential tinkering he puts his story through, and he's obviously having fun with the medium.  It's painfully refreshing to witness an artist utterly aware of his medium's visual importance.  This is not Brian Michael Bendis with neverending captions and word balloons.  Sweet Tooth is art.   But gloomy as hell, and I can already feel the story leaving my cranium.

Deceptive Practice:  The first time I encountered slight-of-hand artist Ricky Jay was as the narrator of Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia. That voice. Once heard it will live in your head. The next time I saw Ricky Jay was in David Mamet's Heist. That lead to an obsession with Mamet's films & plays which in turn lead to obsessions with Joe Mantegna, William H Macy, and Ricky Jay. Now for the first time, director Molly Bernstein takes us inside the tricks of Ricky Jay's trade. No, this is not a How-To on his artistry, but a sort of origin tale - a documentary that will drop your jaw in astonishment while also digging a bit into the history of stage magic. I'm a sucker for this type of thing. Penn & Teller. The Amazing Jonathan. Fun stuff. But Ricky Jay is an artist, a genius, and it feels like a privilege to get a peak inside.

Raiders of the Lost Ark:  "You want to talk to god?  Let's go see him together."  You know the deal.  On the verge of another World War, the American Government responds to rumblings of Hitler's Occult shenanigans by recruiting world renowned archeologist/adventurer, Dr. Indiana Jones.  It's an absurd premise born from the whacky pulp adventures of various movie serials, and succeeds thanks to Harrison Ford's uncanny badass charm.  This is one of those exceptional fits of character & actor.  Yes, you can imagine a world in which Tom Selleck traded idol for whip, but that's an offcentered Fringe universe where RC Cola reigns supreme.  No thank you.  The Big Bang Theory recently postulated that the good professor's presence in the narrative achieves absolutely nothing in the plot, but I actually think the futility of the Nazi's scheme adds an extra layer of apocalyptic gloom.  It's not a matter of Indy saving the day, but Indy bearing witness to God's Wrath.  Can't shake it.  Raiders of the Lost Ark is still the all time greatest adventure story.

47 Ronin:  If you're looking for an Asian Adventure with heavy doses of CGI then let me recommend Stephen Chow's Journey To The West.  If you're looking for a few against the many samurai slaughterfest then let me suggest Takashi Miike's 13 Assassins or the obvious Seven Samurai.  But if you're looking for the 47 Ronin saga told exceptionally then you better go with any other dozen retellings such as Kenji Mizoguchi's double feature or even Mike Richardson & Stan Sakai's recent Dark Horse Comic.  Cuz you're not going to want to bother with this one.  This film is nearly as lifeless as Keanu Reeves' performance.  It's a dull flop destined for banishment in the Wal-Mart five dollar bin or the black hole of streaming services.  Maybe some ignorant child will discover a curiosity for the genre after stumbling across it, but that's the best possible future this 47 Ronin can hope for.

21 Jump Street:  "They don't serve vegan in jail, bitch!"  I lost money on this one.  No way did I think a cinematic reboot of a crappy teen beat cop show from the 80s was going to work - especially one fronted by GI Joe's Duke Meathead.  Directors Phil Lord & Christopher Miller obviously enjoy a challenge; coming off a hilarious weirdo adaption of the unadaptable children's classic Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs, they go foul mouthed, meta absurdist, and weirdly violent for the buddy cop genre.  21 Jump Street is too damn odd to be this generations Beverly Hills Cop, but I appreciate the life & death stakes filtered through a gross-out, silly Superbad sensibility.   And Channing Tatum shines with his role.  He's an adorable idiot wandering the world of nerdom and discovering humanity while Jonah Hill descends into assholehood via the cool crowd.  It's a dumb ass movie with brief hints of legit high school commentary.  Something the original show could never claim.

The Other Guys:  Playing with the same Buddy Cop nostalgia as 21 Jump Street, Will Ferrell & Mark Wahlberg are the station house dolts that never walk away from explosions while the world champions the heroics of Sam Jackson & The Rock's Lethal Weapons.  But when aiming of the bushes results in a Wile E Coyote-styled roadkill splat, Ferrell & Wahlberg rise to the challenge of gunkata gymnastics.  Although seemingly impossible, The Other Guys is far stupider than 21 Jump Street, but that's the universe of Will Ferrell, and it's impressive how well Mark Wahlberg inhabits the stupid - "I'm a peacock!!!"  The Bernie Madoff social commentary is welcome even when the actual mechanics of the plot get murky.  You're really just hear to watch Wahlberg torture himself over Ferrell's sexual ownership of Eva Mendes.  "Gator don't take no shit."

Cellular:  Based on a story by Larry Cohen (Hell Up in Harlem), written by Chris Morgan (Fast Five), and directed by David E. Ellis (Snakes on a Plane).  Cellular is actually an extremely entertaining thriller that fully commits to its gimmick.  Chris Evans is dragged all over Los Angeles after he answers an unknown caller, and a weak cell signal keeps him at an arm's distance from William H Macy's savior cop.  It all has something to do with corruption, video tape, and Jason Statham's sneering 5 o'clock shadow.  Sure, Cellular is disposable, but it's the perfect film to catch on TNT.

MST3K - Warrior of the Lost World:  "This isn't Mad Max, it's Sad Max."  The Italians know how to pilfer American Cinema better than most modern day Hollywood Suits, but for every Fistful of Dollars or Django, you get two dozen Warrior of the Lost Worlds.  Doing his best Blofeld, Donald Pleasence rules over a post-apocalyptic wasteland with the doomsday threat of Mega Weapon.  Robert Ginty mumbles his way into the heart of Persis Khambatta, and races through the ashes of exploded henchmen while Fred Williamson's reigns fire from above.  I really can't imagine surviving this movie without the Robot Roll Call, and MST3K feasts upon this horrid buffet with great gusto.  Lots of cheap shots, well played.

Tropa De Elite:  "Put your bad face on."  We're just a month away from Jose Padilha's Robocop remake, and as a means of battling my own anxiety, and thanks to my buddy Darren slapping an import blu-ray in my hand, I finally decided to see if all the fuss about Elite Squad is genuine.  Turns out, this is not the balls-to-the-wall shoot-em-up I had been lead to believe.  Elite Squad is an oppressive cautionary tale destined to keep me the hell out of Rio De Janeiro.  After years of battling unstoppable drug trafficking and corruption, Wagner Moura must find a replacement before his baby is born.  His options are a couple of kids facing their own hurdles in a vile system, and whatever the outcome the resolution seems utterly pointless.  Every Drug War story concludes in futility, but few have achieved such heartbreaking pessimism as Elite Squad.  There is plenty of action here, but I left the film more impressed with Padhila's societal assassination than his shaky-cam.  Hopefully he can retain that awareness for the Robocop.

Animal Man Vol 1 by Grant Morrison & Chas Truog:  I've owned these trade paperbacks for three years.  Only now am I tackling them.  Why did it take so long?  I have no idea.  I guess I was just waiting for Morrison to finish up his Batman run before tackling these supposedly iconic stories.  I think I was also nervous that they couldn't possibly live up to their hype.  Well, I'm happy to report, that the first volume of Animal Man is absolutely, utterly, stupendously fantastic.  And weird as hell.  Just the way I like my Morrison.  In the first four issues, stuntman Buddy Baker finally decides that its time to come out of retirement and embrace his mind-bendingly strange animal powers.  He can suck the life essence from any creature in his presence - meaning a bird above can give him flight or an earthworm below can help him regenerate a severed limb.  When he's hired by S.T.A.R. Labs to investigate a giant puddle of monkey meat, Buddy Baker comes face-to-face with an even grosser lost hero of the DC Universe - B'Wana Beast!!!!!  It's an epic clash of the "Oh Dear God" and it's a sobering warning to any reader not ready for Grant Morrison.  This is the deep end kiddies, time to get nuts.  The next issue is a one-shot look into God's Lonely Man, Wile E. Coyote.  Yep, you read that right.  No Looney Tunes character is safe.  You also get the apocalyptic art of Hawkworld, a super villain satirizing of Edgar Allen Poe, and a home invasion from Mirror Master.  Those looking for Superman should take a hike.  I've had a few things spoiled for me, but my understanding is that Morrison's Animal Man only gets better and more bizarre in the next volume.  Can't wait.

--Brad

A Fistful of Criterion Wannabes! (Matt’s Picks)

    This week, we here at In the Mouth of Dorkness are putting together wish lists.  These are the movies we want the special edition maestros of the Criterion Collection to get their film-loving little hands on; a few movies that might not be on their radar.  A year ago, Seconds would have appeared on this list, but it just got the Criterion treatment, so its spot opens to something else.  And Things to Come?  Amazing.  With the Zatoichi films coming, I would love to see the entire classic run of Godzilla get a serious box-set.  In the meantime, here are some films that beg (I can hear 'em) for Criterion DVDs.

5.  The Fountain:  This is one of my favorite films, and the DVD has almost no special features.  The Blu is only slightly better.  What’s the story with the aborted version?  What about the graphic novel?  How about those special effects?  I want more than a few featurettes.  I want some serious stuff.  Commentary, documentary, motion comics even.  No less than 2 disks.  Bring it on.

4.  The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari:  This silent film is such a mindblowingly strange film it pretty much created the career (remember his early years were good) of Tim Burton.  It’s freaky, surreal, fanciful, and filled with enough visual flare for a dozen movies.  I would love to see a collection of directors talking about the film’s influence on their work.  A documentary about the film, or the filmmakers would be welcome as well.  And how complete is it?  How cleaned up can it be?  How about a biography on actor Conrad Veidt?  What little I know about that guy seems flippin’ fascinating.

3.  The Warriors:  This is a true Urban Fantasy film.  After the assassination of the new Gang Messiah, one gang must make an Odyssey-like quest across the hostile world of the City.  Facing various other gangs, the siren song of women, inner demons, and dangers untold, Swan and his people learn what’s really important.  The Warriors is a movie like no other, a strange journey into idealized gangs.  Along with Walter Hill’s other masterpiece Streets of Fire (which should also get the Criterion treatment), it helps to establish a certain mysterious and wonderful early 80s cinematic language.

2.  Lost Highway:  No love for Lynch from Criterion?  Lost Highway is the ultimate expression of what I love about David Lynch’s films.  The characters, the look, the odd dialog, the perplexing plot progression.  It’s all so wrong it’s right.  It may not be the most pure Lynch film (probably Inland Empire), but it’s perfect to me.  And, as usual, the DVD release was bare bones.  How about a nice two disk set, with Pretty as a Picture, the excellent documentary, conversations with the director and actors, and maybe even excerpts from the book Lynch on Lynch.  Short films, commercials, music.  Barry Gifford doing readings from Night People.  There’s so much that could accompany the movie, and give it more context.

1.  Speed Racer:  Opinions are, by their nature, subjective.  But your negative opinion of this film is wrong.  An amazing Kung Fu film of the highest order, blasted into your third eye with a Technicolor lightening bolt.  It’s not about racing, it’s about excellence.  It’s about the ultimate enlightenment.  It is about Kung Fu.  Like the great masters of the Martial Arts films, when Speed finally transcends, achieving Nirvana, he shapes the world not according to physics, but according to will.  He acts as one with the universe.  Add to that, and the candy-colored futropolis, a great story about family and love, and you've got something special.  Yet, the film did not connect with John Q. Lunchbox.  And I would argue that the reason may be more simple than many would think.  Speed Racer is an Art Film.  It has the trappings of a big-budget Hollywood blockbuster, but at its Zen center, it is a spiritual journey through perception and self-knowledge.  It may not be in black & white.  They may not speak French.  And it may not end in ‘fin.’  But Speed Racer is an art film.

    Sure, I could’a picked some Hong Kong melodramas about Gong Li looking sad (I do love those), or something depressing from France.  But not all art has to be about depression.  And some movies can leave you feeling pretty good…and that’s OK.  No.  It’s better than OK.  It’s pretty great.

-Matt