Taking the red pill…
So my buddy Andrew over at gmanReviews recently had me on as the second guest for his totally boss new feature, “Movies You Love“. The gist of it being that he asks me questions about the one movie that made me fall in love with movies and changed the way I looked at films, and then I rant about it until I’m blue in the face. Wasn’t easy to narrow it down to one, but I decided to go with the one movie that I’ve watched more times than any other and blew my mind into smithereens back when I first saw it in seventh grade: The Matrix. So if you’re like me and still think this movie is the bomb, click that picture below and hop on over to see the full fanboy geekoutery that went on. And thanks to Andrew for having me on, it was most awesome.
Machete (2010)
VERDICT:
7/10 MexiCANs
Totally insane and totally awesome.
Machete is about a federale agent who winds up working as an illegal day laborer in Texas after his family is murdered by his former boss and a local drug kingpin. Then one day our guy gets contracted to assassinate a State Senator, the whole thing ends up being a setup to boost the Senator’s approval ratings, and so our blade enthusiast sets out for revenge against the sonsabitches who hired him and tried to kill him, and then go take out that giant-coated bastard who offed his family while he’s at it.
If you saw Grindhouse, if you saw Desperado, if you saw Once Upon a Time in Mexico, you’ll know damn well what to expect from Robert Rodriguez’s latest trip across the border. This is an exercise in gratuitous violence, excessive nudity and saying “Fuck you, sirs” to the suits in the Southwestern United States who are hellbent on keeping those Mexicans in Mexico for the sake of political gain. And I don’t know about you, dear readers, but I think that is one bitchin’ idea for an action movie.
So Robert Rodriguez isn’t exactly a name that comes to mind when I start thinking about my favorite directors, but if there’s one thing I admire about the guy, it’s that he sure knows how to turn it up to 11. I remember hearing him talk about Planet Terror back when it first came out and how his biggest priority when making a movie is coming up with that special something that’s gonna drop jaws in the trailer and put asses in the seats for the long haul. For that movie, it was Rose McGowan’s gun leg, and for this movie, I’m thinking it was Danny Trejo flying on a motorcycle with a minigun strapped to the handlebars. If you’re getting hung up on the physics of that image or how wildly impractical it would be to have an automatic rifle for a prosthesis let alone try to fire it at someone, you’re asking the wrong questions.
I, for one, effing love Danny Trejo and any excuse to watch him in his first big leading role a stone cold killing machine named Machete Cortez is just the kind of thing that will put my ass in a seat. From the moment I first saw him chuckin’ knives at Antonio Banderas in Desperado, I’ve been counting the days ’til he got his due. He is such a fucking badass, it is so cool to see an action star who isn’t white or Jason Statham, and for a guy who used to be a criminal and an addict back before his movie career kicked off, it looks like karma’s been awfully generous to Danny Boy over the years. He doesn’t have to do a whole lot outside of scowl, stab fools and sit back as half-a-dozen women try to jump his bones, but he looks like a boss doing it and, what can I say, he’s flat-out perfect for the role.
Well played, Mr. Rodriguez. That’s how you cater to your target audience.
But aside from Trejo, this whole cast is a freakin’ rip.
Steven Seagal is hilarious as our drug kingpin, Torrez; Cheech Marin is the man as Machete’s shotgun-toting brother, Padre Cortez; Lindsay Lohan kinda sends up her own absurd self as horny brat-turned-heavily armed nun, April; Jeff Fahey rocks his gravely pipes in a big ol’ way as the Senator’s right-hand man, Booth; Michelle Rodriguez kicks some major ass as immigrant freedom fighter, Luz; Jessica Alba does her thing as federal immigration agent Sartana; and Don Johnson of all people is solid as immigrant hunter No. 1, Von Jackson. It’s this bizarro concoction of has-beens and A-listers that have no place being in the same movie, but it all works and it just adds to the appeal.
The best example of this being how Rodriguez somehow, some way managed to get Robert De Niro on board as our anti-immigration advocate, Senator McLaughlin. Man, it has been a long time since De Niro’s done something that hasn’t sucked ass or required him to make “Focker” jokes for two hours, and I am so happy he didn’t pass on this role. You think of De Niro these days, you don’t picture him plugging people left and right or running through a firefight decked out in a day laborer’s outfit, but like I said, it just adds to the appeal. So much fun, it’s great to see De Niro taking a page out of Alec Baldwin’s notebook by lightening up his image for a change, and it’s sweet to have him swearing like a mafioso sailor again.
But as good as this ridiculous cast is, they’re just a part of why I dug this movie. Folks, this thing is shameless, everyone attached knows it, and it is a riot to behold. Just a shit-ton of action that’s all freakin’ NUTS, a great sense of humor that would have had me howling in the theater, and I’m all about movies that know how to have a time without taking themselves seriously. I was prepping myself for disappointment because I feel like a lot of other bloggers around these parts were underwhelmed by this, but whether I’m in the minority here or what, I’m a total fan and I can’t wait for the two sequels.
I was really tempted to give this movie an 8 because it really was a total blast, but the thing that held it back was the realization that even with the promise of Danny Trejo tearing out someone’s intestines with a bone saw and using them to rappel out of a window, Machete isn’t for everyone. It’s one of those movies that you’ll probably love or hate before it even starts, and while it absolutely delivers for those who know exactly what’s in store, it just might repulse everyone else. Then again, you gotta watch this with a fistful of salt and cannonball into the bloodbath that everyone else is already splashing around in if you’re gonna get it at all. You follow those simple steps, you’ll be on the level, and, oh, what a enjoyable level it is to be on.
And that whole “illegal immigrant uprising” thing is too damn good to resist. B-movie gold right there.
My Very First Podcast
So after several attempts to get me on board – all of which fell through because I’m a complete and utter space cadet when it comes to these kinda things – my buddy Kai and his co-host Heather finally managed the impossible and recently had me as a guest on his wonderfully-named podcast, The MILFcast (short for “The Man, I Love Films podcast” if you’re not into the whole brevity thing). It’s the first time I’ve ever been on one of these, it was a total blast, and we sure had ourselves a time talking about Over the Top and beating up robots amongst other high-brow topics. So hop on over and give it a listen. Good stuff all around, yo.
The Getaway (1972)
VERDICT:
8/10 Shotgun Stories
Goes by a pretty standard formula, but it Steve McQueen clearing house with a 12-gauge, and that is totally badass.
The Getaway is about a bank robber who gets out of jail and has to pull a job for the guy who helped get him parole. He plans everything out to a tee for what should be an in-and-out heist, but then the big day finally comes and one of the dipshits he was forced to work with decides to get greedy and winds up botching the whole thing. Before he knows it, the shit has completely hit the fan and everyone wants him dead, so he hits the road with his missus and tries to book it on down to Mexico before his former employers catch up with him.
Now, it’s been a long time since I’ve watched a Sam Peckinpah movie, and being that the only other thing of his that I’ve seen is Straw Dogs, the sad truth of the matter is that I haven’t been doing my homework. But from what I’ve gathered so far, Peckinpah seems to be one very gritty dude who sure likes violence, knows how to film it and doesn’t mess around. And, in a nutshell, that’s what this movie’s all about. It’s not exactly new territory by today’s standards and I doubt it was new territory by ’72s standards either, but regardless, bank heists and shootouts have always been a solid formula to go by and Peckinpah isn’t out to fix what ain’t broken.
So this here script was mostly written by and adapted from a novel of the same name by one Jim Thompson. I for one have never read it, I’ve actually never read anything by the guy even though I’m pretty sure I’d eat all right up, but considering that this is the same guy who wrote the source material for The Killer Inside Me and The Grifters amongst other gems, I think “gritty” may very well be the word of the day with this review. If none of this is ringing any bells, the long and short of it is that Thompson was all about pulp fiction and pitch black noir, he had a thing for writing about professionals and madmen, and he could write mean, sharp dialogue like a bastard. It’s awesome stuff, it’s old school cool at its finest, and it’s as kickass to listen to as it is to watch.
And there’s a lot of that here, but by the same token, I wish there had been more. Like the premise, the dialogue is somewhat by-the-books and seems to rely a bit much on the cast members being stone cold sonsabitches to carry it along, and that’s fine, but I’m of the mindset that you could have Gilbert Gottfried read aloud some of Thompson’s dialogue and he’d sound just as legit as McQueen would doing it. All the same, the script is straightforward, it lays out some great opportunities for Peckinpah and McQueen to go to town in the action department, and that’s good business.
But I don’t know how kindly the ladies in the crowd might take to some of the more chauvinistic tendencies this takes on every once and again. You’ve got McQueen slapping the bejeesus out of his girl by the side of the road, the main dickhead of the hour forcing a married woman to go down on him at gunpoint, and McQueen punching Sally Struthers’ lights out. Then again, watching Struthers get KO’ed was pretty darn hilarious. But those first two examples are the kind of stuff that I had a big problem with in The Killer Inside Me and it’s always fucked up to watch a guy lay into a woman like that. I wasn’t crazy about it and I always feel weird endorsing movies with that kind of stuff in ’em, but alas, it’s hard to write off everything else I liked about this movie even if Thompson could have toned that nonsense down.
Anyway, not that it even warrants saying, but Steve McQueen kicks ass as our guy “Doc” McCoy. Folks, there’s a reason he made the banner up there, and when you see him here in action, you’ll understand why. He was his own stuntman whether it was behind the wheel or in the line of fire, he never has to yell to command attention, and he was just one of those rare icons who knew how to get a lot out of a little. Doesn’t have much of an emotional range going, but he doesn’t need it since he gets it done without even trying.
Ali McGraw ain’t too bad either as McCoy’s main squeeze, Carol, but she gets very much overshadowed by McQueen since he’s as “manly” as they come and this whole story is completely driven by dudes who don’t seem to have a problem with beating chicks. Still, she holds her own and has a whole lot of attitude to boot. And Al Letteri’s an asshole for the record books as that greedy dipshit who threw a wrench into works for McCoy at the get-go. Just an absolute scumbag through and through, did a great job of making the audience hate his ass.
And bonus points for a freakin’ great Slim Pickens cameo.
But while the cast is tops, I wasn’t a big fan of Quincy Jones’ funkadelic score. Doesn’t quite mesh with everything that’s happening on-screen and the whole thing would have been better off without music at all. Nor was I a big fan of the ending that seemed like a Hollywood cop out and completely negated an otherwise important shooutout between McQueen and Letteri during the last five minutes of the movie. Luckily Slim Pickens is there to smooth things out, but still, it really didn’t fall in line with everything else that was so damn gritty.
But whatever, The Getaway isn’t rocket science and that’s also the appeal. I shouldn’t have written this much about this movie because not only am I worried about sounding like a douche, but this isn’t the kind of movie you need to overanalyze. You take one of the coolest actors of all-time, give him a shotgun and tell him to go to town for two hours, that right there’s a movie I’d wanna watch. Even with the weak ending, even with the weird soundtrack and even if the writing wasn’t on the same level as some of Thompson’s other efforts, this movie is cool as shit and I dug the hell out of it. Some totally wild shootouts (and that’s coming from someone who generally loathes action scenes filmed in slow-mo) and this is just one more reason why I feel like an idiot for never having gotten around to The Wild Bunch.
For shame…
And the best actor to play Batman is…
CHRISTIAN BALE!
What. A. Badass.
Actually kinda surprised that there wasn’t more Keaton love to go around, but, man, talk about an upgrade from the days of George Clooney’s nipple suit. Chris Nolan needs to hurry his ass up and finish out this trilogy already!
Solid voting, folks. But never forget the Keaton.
RESULTS:
– Christian Bale: 29 votes
– Michael Keaton: 11 votes (that dude needs a comeback already)
– Adam West: 7 vote
– Val Kilmer: 4 votes
– George Clooney: 1 vote (amazed he even got one)
– Other: 2 votes for Kevin Conroy (thinking’ outside the box, I dig that) 1 vote for Mark Hamill (I thought he voiced The Joker?), and 1 vote for Aiden Redmond (I can see that).
Monsters (2010)
VERDICT:
7/10 Gringo Getaways
Kidnapping, diarrhea water and 100-foot-tall land-walking octopi from outer space. Three great reasons I will never go to Mexico.
Monsters takes place six years after aliens landed on Earth, ripped shit up and turned a huge chunk of Central America into a breeding ground for squids the size of the Chrysler Building. So when an American photojournalist ends up having to escort his boss’ daughter through the said breeding ground and back to American soil, he’s none too happy about the situation, but they head out through the wasteland all the same and do their best to dodge getting eaten, crushed, or whatever it is that giant aliens do when they get pissed off.
I don’t know where I was when this was out in theaters, ’cause it wasn’t until months after it came and went that everyone around the blogosphere started writing about it and indirectly made me feel shame for dropping the ball in a year where I thought I’d done a pretty kickass job of hitting the theater. Anywho, I’ve been counting down the days until this came to Netflix Instant, and after finally getting a chance to judge the hype for myself, it’s nice to find that a lot of it is actually warranted.
Written and directed by newcomer Gareth Edwards whose budget for this was apparently five nickels and food stamps, it’s pretty effing wild the stuff he manages to pull off and pull off well. As far as dystopias are concerned, this one’s more along the lines of Children of Men than War of the Worlds. Even with the mega octopi running around, the destruction is subtle and it’s all in the details. No flaming trains, no military raids, just decaying buildings that have long since been abandoned, faded billboards of gas masks and forbidden zones, and it feels lived-in, like the citizens of Mexico just started adapting to the invasion rather than turn their homes into more of a warzone than it already is. It’s nothing too in-your-face, and considering that I think Children of Men is more or less the be-all end-all when it comes to capturing the apocalypse on film, I very much dig that about this movie.
And on top of that, the special effects totally rock. Not only are the octopi some fresh looking creatures that blend in gorgeously to their real-life surroundings, but the same thing goes for all the rusted and busted planes, trains and automobiles that riddle the landscapes. Man, this thing looks beautiful even without the special effects. If it weren’t for all that kidnapping nonsense that I mentioned earlier, I’d be half-tempted to book it down to Mexico to see some of these sights for myself. But alas, it just ain’t worth the ransom money.
So going off the title, the synopsis and all this talk of sweet special effects and such, one might lead to believe that this would be nothing short of a 93-minute rush of uncut, Colombian adrenaline to the face. Sorry to disappoint those of you who had your hopes up in this regard, but this is not that kind of movie. Yeah, the monsters are there and the title isn’t exactly false advertising since they do run train on some trigger-happy hermanos here and there, but it’s not really about that.
In fact, it ends up being more of a metaphor for illegal immigration than anything else (at least I think it was), and as lame as that may sound, it works because Gareth knows the story he’s trying to tell and he knows he doesn’t have the budget for ¡Viva la Cloverfield! Instead of a non-stop thrill ride, he gives us two great characters that are easy to connect to and who have a lot going on below the surface, and while that may not seem as interesting as the aliens around them, you’d be surprised. It marches to the beat of its own drum, it’s almost like The Motorcycle Diaries mixed with E.T. or something, and I like how different it is. Nice to see a new take on a genre that’s usually lacking in the thinking department and doesn’t tend to leave a whole lot of room for interpretation.
And the acting’s good, too. Scoot McNairy (short for Scooter, I guess?) and Whitney Able play our accidental tourists Andrew and Samantha respectively, and for two actors who are newcomers in my book, they’re really good. Well, the roles don’t exactly require a whole lot from ’em, but they come off as very natural and it’s fun to watch them together. I cared about these two, they felt real, and they carried the movie. Nice acting and writing combo at play here.
But, unfortunately, poor Scoot has to go shirtless at one point and is forced to reveal the blatantly obvious tramp stamp that he must regret in the absolute worst way. Doesn’t have anything to do with the movie as a whole, but since the male tramp stamp is a rare thing to behold and I can only imagine the kind of shit he must have gotten for that, it must be mentioned. Exactly why I keep second-guessing the tattoo I wanna get.
So for those who are intrigued, the double-edged sword of Monsters is that it’s probably not what you’d expect. I can see how some folks would love the anti-creature feature approach and I can see how it would disappoint the hell out of others. But for such a low budget, it accomplishes way more than I expected and it’s smart enough to play to the strengths of its downplayed script rather than rely on superficial eye candy. It’s a movie that I’ve been thinking a lot about since finishing it and it’s a movie I’ll probably keep on thinking about until I can actually talk to someone else about it, and even though I wish it had more excitement to balance out the buildup, it’s pretty damn impressive.
Castle in the Sky (1986)
VERDICT:
9/10 Cloud Cities
Fueled by more pure imagination than you can shake a stick at.
Castle in the Sky is about a girl who escapes from the clutches of some shady government-types who are after her magic pendant and starts tagging along with the boy who rescued her after she fell clear out of the sky and into his arms. As it just so happens, the boy’s life-long dream is to follow in his father’s footsteps and find the lost floating city of Laputa that nearly everyone thinks is a myth, and whaddaya’ know, the girl’s pendant just so happens to be a compass of sorts that’ll lead ’em right there. So with pirates, soldiers and certified a-holes who wear sunglasses indoors all trying to get their hands on the girl so it’ll lead ’em to Laputa’s fabled teasures, our two fated traveling buddies hit the road to find it first.
Man, I’m starting to feel a fanboy or something with all these 9s I’ve been dishing out to Miyazaki as of late, but what can I say, he totally deserves ’em. Cagliostro didn’t have a whole lot of imagination going for it but it was total blast nonetheless, Nausicaä, on the other hand, went to town in the imagination and scale departments and was just as epic to boot, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any more jaw-dropping than a full-fledged war against insects the size the of skyscrapers, this up and happens.
Thanks to its awfully childish title, I’d always been under the impression that I wasn’t exactly the target audience that writer/director/Japanese man-god Hayao Miyazaki had in mind for this movie. Figured I was too male, too far past hitting puberty and too busy trying to pretend that I didn’t play Magic: The Gathering in middle school for this to be anything more than child’s play. As per usual, I was an idiot, and oddly enough, this is actually pretty legit.
As far as the adventure aspect is concerned, Miyazaki’s outdone himself. It doesn’t have quite the same non-stop pacing that made Nausicaä the adrenaline rush that it was, but this is still over before you know it and the wow factor’s been cranked to 11 in a big ol’ way. It starts off like that right from the stunning opening credits that displays dozens upon dozens of all these amazing crop dusters, floating nations and lead zeppelins that are only featured for seconds at a time but are gorgeous enough to make a whole damn movie out of, then it jumps right to the steampunk mining town where our hero Pazu lives, and by the time we finally get to the Laputa, you won’t know what the hell to do with yourself.
It’s just this stunning marriage between entertainment and invention that runs the gamut from high-speed chases on elevated train tracks and towering robots who can shoot lasers from their faces, to dogfights with air pirates and endless life-or-death scenarios in settings that will simply blow you mind. So much freakin’ fun and I love that every action scene is always staged at the highest speed possible with everyone always inches away from falling to their deaths. Wild stuff, one of the many perks of working with cartoon actors.
But I’m still not sure what to make of the characters here. They’ve got a much better sense of humor this time around, they’re way more fleshed out than they were in Nausicaä and the same goes for their relationships with one another. On the one hand, I’m glad more attention was given to these aspects because it definitely shows, but in terms of our heroes Sheeta and Pazu, I didn’t feel like there was a whole lot of growth to be had. There’s a lot of mysteries about the both of ’em that are continually unfolding as the story progresses, but I didn’t feel the same connection to either of them as I did to Nausicaä herself or their quasi-love story that didn’t really go anywhere. I don’t know, just wasn’t feeling it, but the villains have gotten a lot less black-and-white and that went a long way.
Although I gotta say, wasn’t crazy about the voice acting this time around. Not only do these characters talk at the same pace as Speed Racer from time to time, but the actors they got to voice ’em are really hit-or-miss. Anna Paquin plays Sheeta and James Van Der Beek plays Pazu, and considering that these two can’t be much older than maybe 18, the voices coming out of ’em just don’t match up. Not sure what the point in trying to make them sound older was, but it’s pretty distracting and you’re probably better off just sticking with subtitles with this one. Then again, Cloris Leachman is solid as lead pirate, Dola; and Mark Hamill puts on a solid sinister performance as that certified a-hole who wear sunglasses indoors, Muska.
Bonus for a cameo from Andy Dick. Sure, why not?
And the score here is simply perfect. Could not imagine a better complement to this story and these visuals than the soaring, invigorating music that plays along to it all. Usually not big on writing about a movie’s score, but it’s really something and it’s hard to miss.
As I’m quickly starting to find with all of Miyazaki’s movies, Castle in the Sky is just one of those things you can’t help but get swept up in. The visuals are as beautiful as they are breathtaking, the storytelling is exceptional and far exceeded what I thought was in store, and there’s actually a message behind it all, which is awesome. By the same token, I wish the main relationship between Sheeta and Pazu had been more convincing, I wish the voice acting had been better and I wish the message hadn’t ultimately been so heavy-handed (even though it’s nice to not have one that isn’t green for a change). Left me thinking this would be more worthy of an 8 at times, but the sheer awe-inspiring nature of everything this movie does so well and everything about it that felt so incredibly new that it makes Avatar look like Big Mommas makes it an experience that I can’t recommend enough.
I really have no effing clue why it took so long for Miyazaki to make it into the mainstream when he was putting out this kind of quality stuff back when Disney was just getting its shit together. But whatever, recognition or no recognition, this kind of quality stuff will always stand the test of time.
Over the Top (1987)
VERDICT:
1/10 Power Hats
You know something’s gone terribly wrong when Stallone’s acting is the best thing you’ve got going.
Over the Top is about an arm-wrestling, all-American trucker who discovers that his estranged wife is on the way out and that her dying wish is for him to get to know their estranged son who he left behind years ago for a life on the road. So he picks up his kid from military school, the kid is none too pleased with the situation, but since he ain’t got any other options, he saddles up in shotgun and starts bonding with his pops on a week-long hauling gig to the World Arm Wrestling Championships in Vegas. All the while, the kid’s grandpappy who fucking hates his son-in-law with the fury of ten suns is pulling out all the stops to get his grandson back, and that shit just ain’t gonna jive with Stallone.
You know, at the right angle and with enough salt thrown in, I actually think there was some potential in here for a halfway decent movie. If it had been a Rocky knockoff with arm wrestling instead of boxing or just a straight-up story about a trucker getting to know his son, there’s a chance this could have been something. At least the former would be a shameless excuse to watch dudes grunt themselves into a sweat coma for 90 minutes and the latter might even pull a few heartstrings with the right child actor on board, but combine the two and throw in some of the worst power ballads of the ’80s that no one’s ever heard, and you’ve got yourself one perfect storm there, brotha’.
I mean, come on, what was it about those two concepts together that sounded like a hit to Stallone? After all, the dude co-wrote the screenplay and knew exactly what he was signing himself up for, but who am I to judge? You can bet I’d never have the balls to go up to Stallone and risk getting my face crushed just to say, “Pardon me, Sly, but what would you say to giving this script another once-over?” All the same, the two premises quickly cancel out any trace of credibility this movie had any chance of gaining, and as much as this movie tries (and it tries really, really hard), pretty much everything fails miserably.
Then again, even though his lines are all garbage, Stallone’s actually alright as our guy Lincoln Hawk (talk about your all-time patriotic names). For a guy who’s more than fit to play roles that require him to kill fools wholesale, it’s weird that he’s always best when he downplays it like in First Blood or Cop Land. And that’s what he does here, the level-headed, calm demeanor works extra well since everyone else is overacting like gangbusters, and I really wish he did that more often. Also love that no one in this movie, including Lincoln, knows whether his last name is Hawk or Hawks. Every other time his last name comes up it’s one or the other and, naturally, this is never explained.
But unfortunately, everyone else blows. Hard.
Robert Loggia plays Lincoln’s father-in-law, a role which requires him to show up every ten minutes, be pissed off and start up another rant about what a fuckup Lincoln is. That’s it. Brilliant stuff. And easily nabbing the Razzies for Worst New Star and Worst Supporting Actor in ’87 is David Mendenhall as Lincoln’s son, Michael. Folks, this kid is bad, he’s right up there with Jake Lloyd. Within the first five minutes of meeting this whiny bitch, it’s no wonder that Lincoln ditched his ass when he was still in diapers and it’s more thanks to him than the shitty writing that any chance this movie had at creating human emotion is completely ruined. I wish I had more to say, but it’s dumbfounding how awful he is and words cannot do the performance justice.
And then there’s the arm wrestling, and, amazingly enough, it’s arguably the worst part.
It’s those insano faces they make that go so overboard in trying to look tough that they just end up looking like lumberjacks doing Nic Cage impressions, it’s the fact that one of the guys Hawk(s) goes up against tries to sike him out being eating the lit cigar in his mouth, it’s Randy Raney’s outrageously bi-curious custom wife beater that completely defeats the purpose of wearing a shirt in the first place even if it is the best way to maximize nipple exposure. Look, if you fast forwarded to the last half-hour of this and closed your eyes the whole time, you’d think you were listening to a chorus of grown men trying to poop out cannonballs with thousands of fans cheering ’em on. And even with your eyes pried open like Alex DeLarge, you might just wish you were watching the cannonball thing instead. The whole thing is so lame, it’s so anticlimactic, and it all adds up to one big punchline that only gets sweeter with each new inevitable victory.
And just you wait for those arm wrestler interviews once the competition gets narrowed down to the final eight. From Hawk(s) talking about how his backwards hat is an overdrive switch, to his arch enemy dropping mad knowledge like, “Being number one is everything. There is no second place. Second sucks.” Just an amazing insight into the world of arm wrestling. Who knew there was so much more to the “sport” than doing five million curls and seeing who can flex the hardest without busting an O-ring.
I don’t know if anyone remembers it, but there was an SNL skit from the mid-’90s where Norm MacDonald gets in a car crash, Sylvester Stallone of all people comes to his aid, and so instead of thanking him, Norm takes the opportunity to sarcastically trash Stallone’s entire career until he kicks the bucket. In short, it was awesome and it was also the same episode that had Stallone’s “Orange Julius” skit, but in regards to this gem of a movie, Norm said it best:
“Whoa, hey! Hey, remember that movie Kramer vs. Kramer? Yeah, that was about child custody, too. Yeah, but it wasn’t that good. I don’t know, it was missing something, you know? Ah, what was it missing? I can’t.. oh, wait! I know! ARM WRESTLING!”
Classic.
Over the Top definitely has its fair share of unintentionally funny moments, but it’s not enough to warrant a recommendation to anyone. Not even the best of Stallone performances could salvage this epically idiotic premise and I couldn’t blame my good buddy Fred for repeatedly stating, “I cannot believe that this is how you’re spending your day,” every time he walked by the TV. So if you ever want to see a movie that makes arm wrestling look even remotely badass, bypass this entirely and go check out the remake of The Fly. Now that’s some fuckin’ arm wrestling!
Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
VERDICT:
9/10 Neighbors from Hell
Some straight-up evil shit.
Rosemary’s Baby is about a struggling actor and his charming wife who move into a gorgeous new apartment in Manhattan with the intent of settling down and starting a family. Soon after, they befriend the elderly couple next door, the struggling actor starts spending a suspicious amount of time around ’em, and the charming wife bites her tongue despite the subtle signs around her that some shit is probably up. So then our young loves decide that it’s high time they tried to have a baby, they do the deed in a night of lovemaking that may or may have involved Satan getting in on the action, and so begins nine months of mood swings and morning sickness with a healthy dose of witchcraft and pentagrams thrown in for good measure.
Folks, there are a lot of reasons I’m glad that Junior isn’t a documentary and that I’ll never be the one having to push a bun out of my oven, let alone having it bake for three-quarters of a completely booze-free year, but this movie sure did add a whole new dimension of fear and gratitude to the situation. What The Descent did for claustrophobia, what Jaws did for water in general, that’s what Rosemary’s Baby does for pregnancy, and that is some seriously gnarly shit to be targeting.
So with this, The Ghost Writer, Chinatown and Knife in the Water all checked off that ever-growing To See list of mine, it’s nice to finally be on the Polanski bandwagon that I’d been dragging behind for so long…at least when it comes to film making. Seems like the safest Polanski bandwagon to be on these days. Anyway, you watch any of those four movies (wasn’t so crazy about Knife in the Water, though) and it’s plain to see that this is a guy who knows how to make a movie and is very much in control of what he’s doing and how it’ll resonate with his audience. Say what you will about the guy, Roman Polanski is no joke behind the camera or in front of the keyboard. Simple as that.
But there are two things in particular here that he tackles exceptionally well: pacing and mood.
See, this movie’s the cinematic equivalent of a deer tick. It must have been something else to go into this sucker blind, think you’re getting prepped for a story about being a mom and such, then have it creep under your skin without you even knowing it until your nerves are shot and you can’t get that sour taste off your tongue. But even if you know what’s going on, the restraint Polanski uses in slowly, patiently pulling back the curtain from one scene to the next is something else. It never drags, it keeps you glued to the screen and it just works perfectly.
Absolutely love that anagrams scene, too. Chilling stuff, man.
And adding to all that are two absolutely awesome and crazy performances by Mia Farrow and Ruth Gordon.
Mia Farrow’s here as our girl Rosemary, and oddly enough, this is the first time I’ve ever seen her in a movie. About time I had an excuse to go watch The Purple Rose of Cairo because she truly owns this roller coaster of a character. She’s immediately likable and a total peach from the moment we meet her, seems like the nicest gal on the planet and one who would make one damn good mom down the road. So when she eventually gets pregnant, lops off her hair and starts deteriorating to the point where she looks like Captain Howdy’s younger sister, the effect is pretty darn unsettling. And then she starts catching on to everything that’s going down around her, starts going paranoid up the wahzoo (and rightly so), and the whole thing just puts your hair on end. Could not have been an easy performance to get into, but Farrow nails it and carries the plot along gorgeously.
And as for Ruth Gordon, she plays one of the next-door neighbors, and I think it is awfully cool that she nabbed an Oscar for this. The reason Gordon pulls it off is because she’s the only one here who’s never really acting like there’s something up. She’s the nice old lady that lives next door to everyone, she’s the one who always sends over baked goods to the new neighbors just because, she’s the one you’d never expect because how could she possibly be anything but the nice old lady that lives next door? This is Maude we’re talking about here, I love Maude, and it’s that very “I know her” vibe she puts out that makes her so much more frightening than anyone else.
But I gotta say, wasn’t too crazy about John Cassavetes as Rosemary’s husband, Guy. I can understand how Rosemary might not be so quick to pick up on the fact that her husband is getting sketchier and sketchier by the day since there’s that whole trust thing that comes with marrying someone and not having to worry about the possibility of your spouse pimping out your uterus to the highest demonic bidder, but from an outsider’s perspective, he ain’t too subtle and he makes it pretty obvious. Regardless of whether it was Cassavetes or Carrot Top in the role, there’s no way Guy Woodhouse wouldn’t have go down in history as one of The All-Time Worst Movie Husbands, but come on, if my future wife ever started acting like his ass, I would file those divorce papers faster than Frank Sinatra. Too bad since he was swell in The Dirty Dozen and he’s one kickass film maker to boot, but this just didn’t gel.
And bonus points for a bit role from Charles Grodin. Always a good call.
As a man, this movie is pretty damn unnerving; but as a woman, I can’t even imagine. Rosemary’s Baby is so effing good for a lot of reasons but the one thing that stands out most these days is that it’s not what you’re used to getting from a horror movie. It won’t make you jump out of your seat and there isn’t a cheap scare in sight, it’s just one big slow boil that starts percolating within the first five minutes and eventually ends up setting the fucking house on fire before you can even hear it sizzling on the burner. It’s so well-crafted, I love how genuinely horrifying it is without ever having to resort to violence and gore, and it’ll shock you right on through to the very last insano line. Watching this is an experience that’ll leave a pit in your stomach and flat-out bothered, and for a movie that came out over four decades ago, it’s staying power is a testament to everything I just ranted about.
A total shame that this only got nominated for two measly Oscars, ’cause when you compare it to Oliver!, Funny Girl, The Lion in Winter, Romeo and Juliet and Rachel, Rachel (none of which I’ve seen, by the way), this seems to be operating on a whole ‘nother level. Granted, The Academy’s never really shown much love to horror movies over the years, and this is one big reason why that freakin’ sucks.
Letters from Iwo Jima (2006)
VERDICT:
8/10 Banzai Battalions
Liked it more back when it first came out, but still pretty sore that it lost Best Picture to The Departed.
Letters from Iwo Jima is about the said Battle of Iwo Jima that took place between the United States and Japan during WWII as told from the perspectives of a general and his infantryman in the Japanese military who fought to protect their homeland despite having zero chance of achieving victory. Not much else to say on the matter, but there really is a lot going on here for such a brief summary.
Back when I first saw this in ’06, I was flat-out floored. Being a huge fan of Erich Maria Remarche’s All Quiet on the Western Front (never saw the movie, should probably get around to that), I’m all about war movies, books, anything that’s told from the side you wouldn’t expect. You don’t expect to pick up a novel told from the viewpoint of a German soldier during WWI with the intent of sympathizing with the narrator, same thing goes for Robert E. Lee and his grey coats in Michael Shaara’s unreal Civil War novel, The Killer Angels, but the fact that you do is one of the many things about them that sheds a whole new light on war and those who fight.
And it’s that same unlikely narrative that has always grabbed me about this movie. For starters, the only thing I knew about the Battle of Iwo Jima before seeing this movie was the iconic Americana photograph that ultimately came out of it and served as the inspiration for this movie’s sister, Flags of Our Fathers. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my vast knowledge of Japan’s involvement in WWII also boiled down to Pearl Harbor, Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Kamikaze pilots. Yeah, I don’t know what I was daydreaming about during all those history classes either. But I will say this: as far as the history books are concerned, if you were on the losing side of a war, there’s a good chance you ended up getting grouped into a whole and villainized when all was said and done. And that’s a damn shame.
Not to say that the Nazi Party was misunderstood or anything, because sometimes the folks on the losing end actually are really bad dudes, but the thing about war that this movie understands is that it’s never cut-and-dry and sometimes the “good” guys are just as bad as the “bad” guys. I’m eternally grateful that I’ve never been on the front lines and I’m not gonna pretend to know what it’s like to be a soldier, but it’s stuff like this that reminds me how crazy and ugly war is. I mean, it’s the same kind of reaction you’d get from any war movie from Patton to Platoon because I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone repping the viewpoint of “War makes sense.” Although the thing that separates this Iwo Jima from the rest not only goes back to the way it was fought, but to the way it was lost.
As an American, I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand the Japanese notion of “honor”. I think it’s a fine ideal to live by and I can absolutely respect it, but I can’t foresee myself being in the proper mindset down the road to commit seppuku after dishonoring my family in some way, shape or form. So when a rogue Japanese commander here orders his men to all grab a grenade, pull the pin and set it off over their chests rather than continue to fight a losing battle alongside their comrades, the effect is devastating even as a passive observer. And that’s a lot of what makes this all so powerful, the way it emphasizes the unpredictable brutality and kindness of human nature even in the most lawless of circumstances.
As displayed by the great Ken Watanabe and Tsuyoshi Ihara as General Kuribayashi and Baron Nishi respectively, even though this is a war where men you don’t know are actively trying to kill you, they are nevertheless men. The battlefield isn’t a place where one thinks to find civility, but when it comes, it leaves its mark. And by the same token, when that same civility is rejected by the individuals that one would expect to uphold it, it’ll very much leave you troubled. It’ll come out of left field, it may leave you wondering “Why?” but that’s what you’re supposed to think and that might be the biggest reason this movie will stick with you.
But I gotta say, I wasn’t crazy about this first Act. The tone changes significantly once the Americans hit the beaches, but up until that point, the characters didn’t feel all that realistic to me, it almost felt jokey at times and it took me a bit to start caring about our protagonist, Saigo, too. Then again, that all changes by Act two and it’s smooth sailing from that point forward. And Clint sure does a great job filming this, some of the scenery he captures is just stunning and I totally dig all the faded color tones that add a really stark vibe that’s initially missing from the script.
And I love that it’s all in Japanese. Seems pretty unusual for an American director to make a movie that’ll force his hometown audience to endure subtitles, but that’s just one more reason why Clint is the man and it’s one more reason why you shouldn’t write off something “because I’m gonna have to read the whole time.” Serenity now…
Man, I vividly remember leaving the theater after first seeing this and being emotionally shell shocked by the whole experience. And while I wish I had come away that same feeling when I watched it again most recently, the gravity of what this movie has to say continues to challenge and affect in ways that movies rarely do. Yeah, you know how it ends before it even starts and you know there’s a mighty good chance that a lot of the characters here are probably gonna die on the battlefield, but it’s not about that. It’s about the many faces of humanity in a setting where humanity is seldom found and told from the viewpoint of a side that often goes voiceless. Deep stuff that totally got robbed of an Oscar.
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