Film-O-Rama: Five-Minute Reviews and More

As threatened, here are some movies I've watched recently and my general impressions of them.

Zodiac
The trailers make it look like a thriller, but it's more like a two-and-a-half hour America's Most Wanted crime re-enactment. It probably didn't help the "suspense" that I already knew all the details of the real-life Zodiac murders going in, but no matter how you slice it, this movie is mostly a very long procedural, with the characters existing mainly to deliver exposition. There are some nice details (the Zodiac's handwriting -- I don't know if it's actually his -- features the "maniac d"*), and Mark Ruffalo and Robert Downey, Jr. invest some personality into their characters. But whereas Brian De Palma's The Black Dahlia was a putrid mess bearing little relation to the actual crime (yeah, I know it was based on a fanciful James Ellroy novel), David Fincher's latest, ahem, stab at the serial killer genre suffers from hewing so close to accuracy it feels like a documentary rather than a drama. It's far from a total waste, but it's definitely one to rent vs. seeing in the theatre.

Beerfest
If you decide to watch a movie called Beerfest, then you already know what to expect. And this movie meets those expectations. Good, stupid fun.

Dreamland
Implausible and pretentious bit of self-conscious indie hipness only slightly redeemed by the total freaking hotness of the two main female characters (Agnes Bruckner and Kelli Garner).

The Prestige
Another Christopher Nolan cut-and-paste jigsaw narrative, this may be his best since Memento (although I didn't see Batman Begins, so take this statement accordingly, superhero nerds). Good performances all around -- Christian Bale (I've never seen him in anything less than kickass mode on screen) and Michael Caine, most notably.

Evil
A Greek zombie movie?! Yes, I found a screener copy today at work and, based on what I see on this page, it looks awesome! I'll be watching this one very soon.

Bonus: The Red Wings and other actual hockey players also love the movie Slap Shot, according to The Detroit News. What's not to love, anyway?

* The author of this page, Bob Wallace, originally had a much better, article-length note about the "maniac d," but unfortunately it seems it's no longer on the intarwebs.

Post-Oscar Movie Roundup

Oscars? Uh, yeah, whatever. Martin Scorsese finally won one. So I guess that's cool.

Moving along, Slate is ambivalent about the resurgence of the stale slacker-movie genre. Writer Marisa Meltzer especially seems to take issue with the comparative lack of female slacker characters. Maybe I should whip up a slacker screenplay of my own. (Write what you know, they always say.)

Over in Follywood, my Fantasy Moguls league, Bigger Than Godzilla Enterprises leaps into first place on the strength of the past weekend's opening of The Number 23 and Reno 911!: Miami. My first film, a really poorly chosen Black Snake Moan, doesn't open until this weekend. I should probably pick something with more box office potential, but I'm too lazy to change it now.

The trailer for the upcoming Grindhouse looks awesome:



And I've watched some other movies lately, including a sneak preview of Zodiac. I'll do some quick reviews in a separate post.

Belated Stupid Beer News

Beer historian Alan Eames is dead at 59.

"He used to say that beer is food, nourishing to the body and the soul," [his wife] said.

Amen. Let's raise a pint of Dead Guy Ale in his honor.

Annoying holy roller types protest people drinking beer at a restaurant -- and a tiki one, at that -- next door to a church.

"Anywhere you have alcohol you are going to have fights. Next thing you know, people will be vomiting on the church steps," Balducci said.

Landsberg said he already has canceled upcoming youth events such as lock-ins and Boy Scout meetings for fear of people wandering from the restaurant to his church after having one too many.

"If we've got drunken patrons from the tiki bar coming over, it could endanger our children," Landsberg said.

They have a point. After a few beers, there's nothing I like better than fighting kids and puking on churches.

But maybe the grave threat to the church could be averted if the tiki bar installs these snazzy new talking urinal cakes.

"Hey big guy, having a few drinks? Then listen up!" a voice chirps in. "Think you had one too many? Then it's time to call a cab or call a sober friend for a ride home."

All they need to do is reprogram them to say something like, "Hey sinner, partaking of the devil juice? Be sure to steer clear of God's house and His children, lest you be smitten down where you stumble."

Mardi Gras 2007: The Breakdown

Because this year's party may have been the best yet, I thought I'd try to do something a little different by breaking down some debauchery stats. Of course, since I was probably only semi-coherent for most of the party's duration, all values are (very) approximate. No warranty, express or implied, blah blah blah... It went down like this:

Food Consumed

1 pot jambalaya
1 1/2 crocks of gumbo
1 pot of steamed mussels in wine and garlic sauce
1 muffuletta
1 crock of red beans and rice
1 veggie tray
1 tray of crab/salmon dip and crackers
1 lb. shrimp cocktail
1/2 pan bread pudding (w/ bourbon frosting drizzle)
1 king cake
1 plate peanut butter cookies
1 bag tortilla chips w/ con queso salsa

Beer and Liquor Demolished

1 keg of homebrewed dunkel
1/2 keg of Bell's Two Hearted
1/2 keg of Old 22 Alt
~30 bottles of Abita (Restoration, Purple Haze, Turbo Dog)
~10 bottles misc. beer (Boddington's, Bell's lager, dopplebock, etc.)
1 1/4 fifths Bacardi Light
1/2 fifth Bombay Sapphire
3/4 fifth of Smirnoff
1/2 fifth Captain Morgan
1, uh, wagon of super special imported tequila
~6 blenders full of tropical depressions (fake hurricanes w/o 151)

Miscellaneous

2 broken chairs
2 spilled beers
1 passed out dude
1 episode of vomiting
1 thrown drink
1 mooning incident
2 viewings of Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling DVD
3 rooms of nastified linoleum and carpeting

Enjoy the photoset that will probably disqualify any and all of us from running for president. Warning: contains ass.

Go Ahead, Hassle the Hoff

This is crying out for a caption contest:


Uh. Nothing leaps immediately to mind. But my lunch is leaping into my throat.

El Topo Is El Dope-o

About a month or so ago I watched Midnight Movies: From the Margin to the Mainstream, a 2005 documentary on that bygone era when you could head out to watch some truly screwy cinema over the witching hour at your local "hip" theatre.

I'm old enough to have been to midnight showings of such mainstays as Rocky Horror and Heavy Metal (before either were available on home video -- and why would you watch them at home anyway?), but the trend was about dead by the time I was legally old enough to buy tickets to this stuff. (I imagine somewhere in America you can still find places running midnight shows -- er, like at the State Theatre here in AA -- but for all intents and purposes it's a moribund practice.)

At any rate, the documentary showcased some of the crown jewels of the midnight movie phenomenon, including ones I've seen (the aforementioned RHPS, Night of the Living Dead, Eraserhead), one I've heard of but never seen (Pink Flamingos -- yeah, yeah), and two I'd never heard of (El Topo, The Harder They Come).

El Topo was credited with starting the whole midnight movie craze, and the clips of it shown in the documentary intrigued me, as did the interview with writer-director Alejandro Jodorowsky. It looked completely insane in the best possible way, and so I immediately checked to see if it was on DVD. No luck. Damn -- how could I see this glorious achievement in film?

Well, all of this babble has been prelude to the real news: El Topo is screening again in theatres this year, and one of its stops includes ye olde Ann Arbor Film Festival. From a recent review:

By the time the on-screen Jodorowsky has learned from and annihilated four "masters," joined forces with a lesbian gunslinger (La Topa?), and is entirely shaved in a cave (thus, looking exactly like Klaus Kinski as Woyzeck), audiences will have also been subjected to dwarf amputees, graves of dead rabbits, vaginal cactus fruit, socialite women buying slaves like cattle and, yes, a skinned goat strung up like a crucified man.

I will definitely be getting in touch with Dr. Cheese and buying my ticket for the night of March 24. Who's with me?

Another Mardi Gras Party in the Books

My kitchen floor resembles Bourbon St., minus the puke and pee (I think), and there's a giant cardboard fireplace taking up half of my bedroom, but I don't regret this year's Mardi Gras extravaganza. Thanks to everyone who came and made it such a lot of stupid fun.

Embarrassing/incriminating photos coming soon.



Kyle: still missing.

Bobo's Army Are On Their Way

Apparently testing the proposition that an army of monkeys banging away on a multitude of typewriters will eventually produce Shakespeare's plays, or at least something readable, there is now the wikinovel at Amillionpenguins.com. Only instead of monkeys and typewriters (or penguins), it's disheveled blogtards and their pizza-stained keyboards.

From the latest "progress report":

We're only a third of the way through this project, but already we have seen some great things written (and deleted), enough vandalism to keep us going for the rest of the project thank you very much, a lot of nonsense, some fascinating conversations taking place about writing and about collaboration and some real thought and energy being put into answering the question of whether a community can write a novel.

I would venture to guess the answer is yes, if you broaden the definition of "novel" to mean reams of incoherent, meandering, hard-to-read, eye-glazing prose.

And if you want that, you don't need a wiki because James Joyce has already been there and done that.

Girl, Let's Get Freaky

I worked late last night and was too apathetic to acknowledge Valentine's Day, so I'm trying to make up for it today. To all my loyal female readers, here's a valentine from the bottom of my heart:


Nobody does it like Smoove.

Heavenly Rooster

Tom Russell at The Ark on April 19! I am so there.

Ol' Tom can't quite hit the high notes anymore, but here's "Gallo del Cielo" from his "Hearts on the Line" DVD:

Even Vampires Have to Be Invited Across the Threshold

A few nights ago I was surprised to have a dream about the White Whale. They are very rare now; it's been more than a year since the last one, I'm sure, and almost a year since the last time I so much as exchanged an email with her.

But, wouldn't you know it, last night I checked an old email account and there she was, right on time, with a new message asking about me.

She is and always has been spooky that way. Call it radar love; I call it an abject curse. Yes, I may be a slow learner, but by now even I know when it's time for a new chapter.

Hello, and thank you for your concern. I'm fine, but there's no reason for you to know... or for me to tell you that. Or anything else.

Stream of Unconsciousness

I'd love to nail the Esurance girl. I know she's a cartoon and has pink hair, but still. Don't tell me you wouldn't hit that.

On the other hand, that annoying bitch who does the Michigan Comcast commercials? I want to punch her in the throat.


Quote. Buy. Fuck.

It's Like Fantasy Football

But for movie nerds. Fantasy Moguls allows you to "draft" movies you think will be the bomb, while hopefully avoiding movies that just bomb. Based on my incredible acumen at guessing box office ("Stomp the Yard"? Are you kidding?) my guess is I would be as awful at this as I would be at fantasy football. Maybe worse.

Might be more fun if you could make your own movie titles and stars and such, a la the late, lamented Rock Star game.

With Love and Squalor

FEMA Calls Rebuilding Complete As New Orleans Restored To Former Squalor

NEW ORLEANS, LA—"Our job here is done," said FEMA Undersecretary R. David Paulison, cutting the ribbon on a newly restored pile of garbage.

Speaking of New Orleans, Mardi Gras is February 20 this year, and we're celebrating S&S style on the Saturday before, February 17. Any non-psychos are welcome (especially cute female ones). Who's making the king cake and (dare I ask) muffuletta?

Laissez les bon temps rouler, bitches!

Jobs to Music Labels: Drop DRM

Apple's Steve Jobs thinks the four (wow, remember when there were more?) major record labels should stop junking up their digital tunes with DRM.

"If such requirements were removed, the music industry might experience an influx of new companies willing to invest in innovative new stores and players. This can only be seen as a positive by the music companies," he said in a statement posted to his company's Web site.

Maybe... if music companies weren't run by short-sighted thugs. But they are, so oops.

Meanwhile, if you posted online a funny video of your friend doing something called the "Electric Slide" at your wedding, you either need to take it down or face legal action from some asshole named Richard Silver. Yep, dance moves (or, to make it sound more weighty, choreography) are copyrightable!

Which makes me wonder: How much did Chubby Checker get in royalties for the Twist? Probably some for the song, but motherfuckers all over the country were doing his dance. Where's the payout, bitches? Michael Jackson should surely be adding to his pile of cash by copyrighting the Moon Walk, if he hasn't already.

Me, I've already filed my legal papers to copyright the Spastic Drunk White Guy Flail. I'll be combing YouTube in the next few weeks for any infringing bastards, so you better look out.

(HT: bro)

The Spirit(s) of Buk

I've been threatening to host a Bukowski Night -- drinks (duh), readings, audio, a movie or two -- for some time now, but I think I'm going to have to postpone it again until April, after Easter.

That realization reminded me of a night a few weeks ago. I was in Detroit, at this shithole of a bar named Steve's Place, next to St. Andrew's Hall, waiting for a friend to get out of a concert. After my first cheap-ass gin and tonic, I turned to Bill and said, "Charles Bukowski would have loved this place." Not 10 minutes later, Matt came over and pointed out a yellowed piece of paper tacked next to the ancient cash register -- an old Metro Times article naming the joint "Best Bukowskian watering hole":

Steve's Place has a postapocalyptic feel, as if burnt out and only marginally re-established. Light is random and murky. High ceilings, deep booths and a bar hued in colors of '70s shag carpet; bottle green and blue... It's a Bukowskian dream, an overlooked jewel in downtown Detroit. It could be the last bar on the last block on the last day at last call.

That was written in 2002, and I can't guess even one particle of dust in that place has moved or changed since the article was published.

There's a longer piece including a conversation with Steve himeself, the owner-bartender who looked to me to be about 137 years old.

Too bad this place isn't in Ann Arbor. I guess I'll have to make due with the 8-Ball.