What better way to celebrate the holiday than with my favorite fake trailer from Grindhouse.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
My Continued Pussification
I've come to learn in recent years that increased wussiness is an inevitable part of the aging process. Although this change has manifested itself in many ways, the most noticeable one has come in my movie watching. Films now affect me in ways I never thought imaginable (i.e., I'm more prone to cry like a little girl who's skinned her knee). Although I used to be stone-faced through even the most emotionally gut-wrenching scenes, I have now gone so far in the opposite direction that my eyes will tear up while watching seemingly event-less scenes from movies that I had already seen many times before and not reacted to. "No, I'm not crying. It's just...well, look I got something in my...look, he's stuck late at work. Don't you find that sad?" [Incidentally, I'm glad I was alone while re-watching the last few episodes of Season 4 of The Wire. I was such a pathetic mess that the crying Indian would have pimp-slapped me.]
Who knows why this is happening? Maybe I'm going through menopause. A female friend of mine recently told me that as men age, our bodies produce more estrogen—thus the increased movie crying. Seeing as I'm too lazy to research this, I'll take her word for it and claim it as being true.
All of this is not to say that I used to be a completely un-feeling robot. When I was younger, the occasional film still had the power to turn on the waterworks. The biggest culprit was It's a Wonderful Life, but it's Thanksgiving time right now and not Christmas time, so fuck that movie. I'll talk about it at some other more appropriate time. No, my teary-eyed Thanksgiving movie has always been Planes, Trains, & Automobiles. [I would recount the plot of this movie here, but I'm going to assume you've seen it. If you haven't seen it, of course, you're probably just some un-'Merican pinko and thus don't deserve to have me bring you up to speed on this movie.]
This movie has two scenes that still affect me. The first is the one in which John Candy stands up for himself after being berated to hilarious effect by Steve Martin. Candy gives such a heartfelt, convincing performance that it's hard not to get caught up in it.
The final scene is what really does it to me, however. On his way home, Martin remembers his adventures with Candy and realizes that the man has no family to go home to. He then goes back to the train station and invites Candy to his home for dinner. These sorts of musical montages are generally the worst, most pandering, sort of movie dreck imaginable, and this scene is no exception. I know this, and yet I can't help myself.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Bloodmoon (1990)
dir. Alec Mills
"You've done it again."
-Virginia Sheffield
Patton Oswalt has stated that The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is the most perfect movie title ever created. This title creates a mental image of the movie in one's head before even seeing it. It is also an apt and succinct description of the film. A good example of a bad movie name is Alec Mills' Bloodmoon, an Australian slasher pic whose somewhat vague title has nothing to do with the actual film.
One might go into Bloodmoon expecting an NYU film major's pretentious avant-garde treatise on the menstrual cycle. Absolutely no explanation is given as to why the fucking name of this fucking movie is motherfucking Bloodmoon. The only possible reason could be that the film's scorer Brian May (no, not that Brian May) composed the theme song first and then forced director Alec Mills to change the name of his movie from The Sexually Repressed Professor Strangles His Nude Students to the present one. [Hmm, theme song. Something tells me a certain blog might post this song on Wednesday.] Such a shame that Mills snatched/wasted this name, as Bloodmoon would have been the perfect title for the legitimately awesome lycanthropy-as-metaphor-for-menstruation horror of 2000's Ginger Snaps.
And wasted this title most certainly is. Bloodmoon is strictly, depressingly by-the-numbers. After a rote introductory murder scene, random story-lines are introduced and quickly forgotten (these being of the teen comedy variety). None of these tangents are interesting or crazy enough to sustain any interest, of course. They are merely introduced in an effort to use new teen movie cliches. As soon as these stories are pushed to the boring breaking point, the serial killer is brought back to the film to off some more teens.
Although I generally enjoy a shitty horror movie, I have my limits. It is a thin line that poop films walk between unintentional humor and "why am I watching this piece of shit atrocity." Intention plays a large role in this. I have infinitely much more respect for a movie that aims for the stars only to plunge face first into a pile of dog-shit than a movie that doesn't even aim for dog-shit. Director Alec Mills' contempt for the audience oozes from the screen like so much thick, hate-filled syrup. This film exists solely as a means to soullessly cash in on two teen-centric genres: the slasher film and the snobs vs. slobs comedy.
When making a routine horror pic, one has to distinguish it with either inventive visuals/camera work (The Evil Dead), a sly, knowing sense of humor (Alligator), laughably inept film-making (Slaughter High), mindfucking bizareness (The Manitou), a completely wackadoo premise (Bloody Birthday), or a completely wackadoo twist (Sleepaway Camp). Bloodmoon offers none of these things. Even the murders are rather bloodless. Mills' film does nothing except barely exist on/steal the life support that other more deserving screenplays could be using.
When a movie has as much contempt for its audience as this one, I tune out completely. If it weren't for all the boobies on display, Bloodmoon would have been completely without value.
[The trailer:]
Dave's Rating:
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
A*P*E (1976)
dir. Paul Leder
"If you should bump into him, ask him if his name is King Kong."
-Col. Davis
A*P*E escapes Disneyland-bound ship. A*P*E destroys Korean city. A*P*E flees to mountains. A*P*E kidnaps actress. A*P*E gets chased by military. A*P*E releases actress. A*P*E goes to new Korean city. A*P*E kidnaps same actress again. A*P*E gets chased by military again. A*P*E releases actress again. A*P*E gets killed by military.
Such is the plot of A*P*E, one of the many films made in the wake of news that Dino De Laurentiis would be producing a remake of King Kong in 1976. Although plenty of bad killer ape movies were made at this time (such as The Mighty Peking Man), the Korean produced A*P*E has been renowned as the king of the trash heap.
Indeed, A*P*E is frequently mind-bogglingly bad (Really? Flaming-arrow-shooting Kung Fu folks? Wow, just wow.) Witness A*P*E's opening, one of the most stiffly acted, poorly scripted, awkwardly staged opening scenes to grace the silver screen.
This scene plays like the kind of thing that I would have written at the age of ten. Without any build-up and scant explanation, a killer fucking A*P*E rips through a boat and destroys shit. It is as if the writers (Paul Leder and Reuben Leder [Side note: good God, it took two people to write this thing. Wow, just wow.]) started writing the expository scene right before their LSD kicked in. They then forgot where they were in the script and so decided to just toss in the horribly costumed A*P*E. [This isn't meant to imply, however, that greatness isn't possible when under the influence of LSD.]
Although most directors of movies with shitty looking creatures will tend to hide these beings in shadows, Leder proudly showcases his abomination unto production value. Not only is this costume second-rate, it appears that it had been around the block a few times before Leder got a hold of it. No attempt is made to connect the A*P*E gloves to the A*P*E arms of the costume—the actor's arms frequently showing through the gaps. The zipper line on the back of the A*P*E costume is frequently visible. The pit-stained shirt of the A*P*E actor is also visible through the armpit holes in the A*P*E costume. [Seriously, there are 3 Stooges shorts with more convincing A*P*E costumes.]
Cheapo effects do not begin and end with the A*P*E costume, of course. A*P*E abounds with scenes full of what I am coining "toy destruction porn." [Side note: I just googled toy destruction porn to make sure that I had indeed invented the phrase. [Second side note: Do not google toy destruction porn.]] The cheapest looking factory reject toys (trucks, helicopters, etc...) were gathered for destruction in this movie.
This justly famous scene is one such example of the beautiful toy breaking mayhem contained in A*P*E:
Not content with having the A*P*E destroy only toys, Leder also had second-rate-Godzilla-city-miniatures constructed so that the A*P*E could lackadaisically roam through and tear buildings down.
["Huh, a city. I guess I'll break it. Such is my cruel nature."]
Leder knew that to fully showcase the eat-your-heart-out-Rick-Baker effects he would have to shoot this shit in 3D. As can be guessed, Leder proudly and shamelessly reminds viewers throughout A*P*E that they are watching a 3D film (without explanation, objects are frequently hurled at the screen). The most fantastical of the 3D exploitation moments occurs in the military attack climax. Using different actors, Leder repeats this same image ad nauseam: soldier with gun drawn walks toward the camera, pauses to shoot at the camera, and then walks directly toward the camera, stopping at the last minute so as not to hit the camera. Why the editor of this film did not know enough to cut before these men stopped at the camera is truly baffling. As with most scenes in A*P*E, this proves an almost Avant Garde exercise in crap.
Tonally, A*P*E is all over the map. Are we supposed to sympathize with the beast? Should he be feared? Is he intended to be a comical creature? Why the fuck doesn't he make any noises? Why is the movie titled A*P*E? What is this an acronym for? And why isn't there an asterisk after E? Like one of them thar European thinkin' art pictures, A*P*E is an ambiguous film that asks many questions without providing easy answers. Most importantly, the titular A*P*E wrestles a motherfucking shark.
[Suck it, zombie-fights-shark scene from Lucio Fulci's Zombie.]
For those who fail to admire the awesomeness that is A*P*E, a certain someone has a message for you.
Dave's Rating:
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