Posts Tagged ‘Film’



October 11, 2009


For a certain niche of b-movie enthusiasts, Zombieland is a dream come true. The film’s premise is that the entire globe is overrun by zombies, and few lone survivors remain in the mostly destroyed wasteland to kick ass and take names with giant vehicles, shotguns and a nearly endless supply of ammo. Let’s face it guys, and I’m talking to you fellow zombie flick fans here, you’ve wanted to be in a situation like this for your entire lives, and you have all of the plans written out in your head already. You know which neighbors have guns, you know where you would run to, and you have the rules of zombie busting remembered by heart. The characters in this film mention these things in an almost obligatory way, but for you, it goes without saying.

Part of the fun of the flicks which Zombieland plays off of are their predictability. People can draw mental prototypes about them because they have seen the elements hundreds of times, and rules like “Check the back seat” and “Double tap” are the kinds of things you wish you could tell characters in most zombie flicks. But these characters know them and, unlike most other zombie flick characters, are actually relatively smart, although they make a couple decisions that even the casual movie-goer would easily recognize as a bad idea (Doesn’t fleeing from zombies by riding the Giant Drop sound like a terrible idea the second you read it?).


How can you not love this shot?

But that’s just about the only thing that sets them apart. These characters are built up well but also build from other familiar character prototypes: The soul-seeking youth, the southern tough guy, the independent babe and her spunky little sister. They have surprises, but like zombies, they are reliable and seem doomed to their lonely existence. All named after towns and cities in the U.S., the characters spend an awful lot of their time traveling, but find time to enjoy the little things in life, like building couch forts, bashing ghouls’ heads in with banjos and a never ending quest for Twinkies.

Actually, all three of those activities are primarily enjoyed by the aforementioned tough guy Tallahassee played by Woody Harrelson, who just steals the show in this film. His acting here reminds us of why he is a great American actor; his cool composition carries through his characters so strongly that when he does irregular things like have a temper tantrum and break all the windows on a random car or break down crying when he remembers his lost son, we are shocked but accept the vulnerability unconditionally. However, it does help him that he is sorely out of place among the other amateur actors here, namely Jesse Eisenberg (who is essentially Michael Cerra with a shorter resume), Emma Stone (who is essentially Megan Fox with a longer resume) and Abigail Breslin (who just might be the most hyped child actor since the Olsen twins). The only really solid acting to accompany Harrelson comes with the film’s jaw dropping cameo appearance, which I won’t spoil.


Harrelson, designated badass/goofball since White Men Can't Jump.

…But I’ll level, everyone here brings the giggles more than a dozen times. Did I mention this film is a comedy? And it’s hilarious? I know many of you are probably die-hard Sean of the Dead fans and might imagine if another successful zombie spoof is possible. While Sean of the Dead was hilarious, it also had some subtly observant things to say not just about zombie movies but about people. The zombies in Zombieland might have a meaningful existence, but they need not justify the film. By now, zombies are as much a legitimate part of culture as vampires are, and we all know how current vampire appeal is.

Yes, Zombieland is also a satire, and this is good, because we laughed about elements like these when they weren’t even supposed to be funny. But when Eisenberg’s character Columbus wakes in the morning to find the cute girl from down the hall that fell asleep on the couch with him has turned into a flesh-eating monster, we giggle, and then full out laugh when he narrates to us: “The first time I let a girl into my life, and she tries to eat me.” He says it with some tired acceptance, as if it isn’t even a surprise. That’s hard not to both laugh and nod at.


One of many of this film's moments which leave the audience screaming, for whatever reason.

But director Ruben Fleischer takes the elements of zombie film and runs with them, shamelessly having fun. Which is another thing zombie fans love: a little bit of unaddultered violence. For this reason it is more than a comedy with some of the funniest material you have heard all year. It is also an action flick, and there are more heads rolling (as well as doing other gross, over the top things) than there were in Sean. Within five minutes, the film earns its stripes when Columbus begins a long list of zombie busting rules over small vignettes of innocent bystanders getting munched, as well as his own ridiculous attempt at escaping two zombies at a gas station.

What makes this film a success is that it manages to be both familiar as well as surprising, funny in addition to cathartic, without losing its momentum. Yeah, there’s the obligatory bunt to first base and other such calculated cheese, but isn’t that something we see road films for? Why can’t this film be both of those, too? It earns all these rights somehow, be it through its funny writing, shameless shock tactics and a biting self-awareness. You’ll come out of Zombieland having experienced one hell of a synthesis of contemporary film, and it’s likely that you’ll be willing to see it again and again until you can cheer and recite the lines by heart.


32. Enjoy the little things.



August 17, 2009


Often times, films are marketed as “family movies,” and most times these films put the parents to sleep and only keep the kids marginally entertained. Ponyo, the latest film from Studio Ghibli director and legendary animator Hayao Miyazaki, couldn’t have had everyone’s eyes more glued to the movie screen. Granted, my family consists of Studio Ghibli fans, and maybe it was our adoration of Hayao Miyazaki’s previous work that kept our eyes as wide as the film’s characters throughout our movie experience. But no one in my family that attended Ponyo was under nineteen. The children in the theater, however, were the real judges. And this is reasonable; children are the target audience here. As important as our “oo”s and “ah”s were, their interjections were key, ranging from laughs, sounds of surprise, questions, and if it could make a sound, their amazed silence. I’ll bet close to the same emotions were running through my head as well. Miyazaki’s films often have a way of making a child out of everyone; everything you see is new.


Which is not to say that every Miyazaki film is for children. 1997’s Princess Mononoke, rated PG-13, was intense even when I was thirteen (I feel sorry for all the parents who thought they were bringing their kids to another Disney Princess movie). 2004’s Howl’s Moving Castle was often times violent and melancholy, and probably went over most kids’ heads. Even Miyazaki’s commercial breakout and one of the best children’s films ever made, the 1988 film My Neighbor Totoro, was sometimes a drama about difficult emotions and problems associated with growing up. Ponyo is a bonafide children’s movie, although it may contain some moments that have bigger consequences that children may only understand the basic ideas of (a complexity of relationships, unconditional acceptance of others and a subtle environmentalism among them; and really, who doesn’t like their kids to learn from a movie?). The film, about a small boy named Sosuke and his newly found pet goldfish Ponyo, plays out and even looks like a children’s book, with colorful landscapes and objects that explode with pastel and crayola-esque animation. The story, like that of many children’s books, is basic and fundamental, and yet completely new; I never had any idea what would happen next, and was delighted by each turn of events.

Sosuke (voiced by the youngest, least well known Jonas brother Frankie Jonas) lives in a pretty normal world, in a house on a green cliff by the sea with his mother Lisa (Tina Fey) and sometimes his father Koichi (MattĀ  Damon), who is a sailor and spends most of his days out at sea (to the great distress of Lisa). Sosuke spends his days at school while Lisa works at the retirement home next door, which is inhabited by perhaps the most charming set of old ladies in the history of old ladies. Once Sosuke finds and subsequently loses the little human-faced goldfish Ponyo (voiced by Noah Cyrus, yet another teen pop star’s younger sibling), his world floods with excitement. It turns out that Ponyo is the daughter of an undersea wizard-type figure named Fujimoto, and thus Ponyo isn’t exactly a normal goldfish. Her character is, like Miyazaki’s other great characters, electrifying and vibrant and can’t help but leave the secondary characters in the dust, as compelling and real as they are. When Ponyo licks a drop of blood off of a cut on Sosuke’s finger, everything changes: Ponyo begins to transform into a human girl, the sea rages with Fujimoto’s search for his daughter and the moon draws closer to the earth, causing a massive flood. Ponyo sets out to find her new friend Sosuke again while a storm brews behind her.


Visually, Ponyo may rest at the top of Miyazaki’s animation achievements. Like virtually all of his other films, Ponyo is done completely by hand and contains no computer animation whatsoever, a labor of love. According to IMDB, the first twelve seconds of the film contain over 1,600 hand drawn frames and I can believe it completely. The grand total is approximately 170,000 separate images, a record for Miyazaki’s long career. This may seem like a colossal amount of material for a one hundred minute film, and it is, but many of the images are charmingly simple, more than any other Miyazaki film to date. Sometimes frames contain mostly solid colors and well defined lines, and some other times the animation rivals the startling complexity of his most involved works, particularly the incredibly detailed Howl’s Moving Castle. Already an expert in the animation of nature, Miyazaki has the entire ocean to work with here, and he does wonders with it: thousands of jellyfish, prawn and amoebae float freely in the water, crabs ranging in size from tiny to humongous sidle along the ocean floor, enormous whales swim slowly through the ocean, waves represented as giant fish terrifyingly crash into the shore and hundreds of Ponyo’s young sister goldfish act both in synchronization and independence.

Ponyo has a startling amount of material and yet feels somehow quaint, like an elongated short film. For that reason, it resembles the surprisingly short 2002 Studio Ghibli film The Cat Returns (another kids film), more than anything. Even at one hundred minutes, it feels like forty tops, and you’ll be on the edge of your seat for most of it regardless of your age. The plot contains a few head-scratchers for Western audiences. Koichi prays to the goddess of mercy, Ponyo relieves an infants cold by rubbing her face against his, and unlike other children’s fantasy films, the adults here seem to be in on the magic too. These hitches probably need no explaining or hard thinking for their homeland audience; we need to remember that Ponyo comes from the other side of the planet. Miyazaki rightfully refuses to compromise his home country’s way of life or his vision for the sake of commercial viability. For that reason alone, Ponyo will likely never receive the success or acclaim that other undersea kids films such as The Little Mermaid and Finding Nemo have, at least in the West, though it stands tall by them in quality. But perhaps these few alien concepts are all for the better. They may only reinforce that Ponyo, like Miyazaki’s other work, is like nothing you have ever seen before, except maybe only somewhat like his other work. Half of everything children see is brand new. We often take this for granted, and even forty odd years into his career, Hayao Miyazaki can still completely engross everyone in the theater, and in the process even the adults are reminded of where they came from.



Oscar Thoughts: Slumdog Millionaire Deserves it All

February 23, 2009

I made a bit of a big deal out of the Academy Awards last night, and without much reason, really. I barely saw any movies last year, at least compared to previous years, so I could not fairly make judgements on most of what was nominated. I am a bit embarrassed to say that I did not see four out of five of the films nominated for Best Picture last night. The only reason I made such a big deal out of it, and why I invited all of my friends over to our dorm room to watch the event, is because I wanted to see the performance of a single film and all of those involved with it.

Slumdog Millionaire dominated the Awards, winning eight out of the nine Oscars it was nominated for, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Cinematography, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Original Score, in addition to the four Golden Globes and countless other accolades it has recieved, and earned completely. Watching the massive cast and crew on the red carpet as well as accepting the awards and having a great time was an incredible feeling. It makes me extremely happy that this film has gotten the recognition and appreciation that it has, because I honestly believe it is one of the greatest movies to be released in years, and an all around inspiring and incredible film experience.

I first saw the film when I was in a very bad spot. I won’t say exactly what was on my mind, but it was that kind of agonizing feeling that someone just can never shake immediately. Slumdog Millionaire didn’t get rid of that feeling, but it certainly reminded me that my situation was natural and a part of a bigger picture. As you probably already know, the film is combination of many genres including drama, comedy, coming of age, adventure, romance, and perhaps an element of fantasy. I can scarcely say anything about it that hasn’t already been said, so I won’t even try. It is probably the best looking film that I can remember seeing, gorgeously filmed and directed, by the wonderful Danny Boyle, no less. Musically it is a revolution, a beautiful combination of Indian classicism and modern music from A.R. Rahman. The acting is superb, from an enormous cast, some of which are well known Indian stars, and the child roles handpicked from a school in Mumbai. But the script is what really stands out. The storyline and the characters in it put so much at risk, everything that they have, in fact, and the results are nothing short of stunning, a celebration of the trials and rewards of living.

If you haven’t seen Slumdog Millionaire, make a point to do so immediately. I will in turn see Milk, Frost/Nixon, The Wrestler and the rest of the films who recieved the recognition of not only winning Oscars but also nomination as soon as humanly possible.

Also, a huge congratulations to everyone else who won last night, especially to Wall-E’s win for Best Animated Film and Heath Ledger’s win for Best Supporting Actor.

Much love all around.


Favorite Classes

June 15, 2008

I am now officially done with high school. I have taken a grand total of 32 classes plus a couple doubles through the years (gym and orchestra). Some of these classes have been very good, and some of them have been very bad. I want to take some time to talk about my favorite classes from high school. I could never have the time or will to talk about all the good ones. Every year I had at least one or two classes that I liked, but classes that I loved were rare treasures. I could also talk about classes I hated, but I’m not here to do any bashing. That isn’t right. I won’t remember the classes I hated. I will remember the classes I loved. All of these classes seem to be in the area of English and Social Studies. Science has never been my forte, although I have had some decent teachers, and Math is something I am marginally good at but can never really get myself to be inspired by. Hopefully in a year all of my classes will be as excellent as these select few.

From Freshman year through Junior year, I was in Orchestra every day, fourth hour, conducted by Mr. S. There are two Orchestras in the school, the lower Strings Orchestra and the higher Chamber Orchestra. I never made it into Chamber Orchestra, but then again I never tried out. I guess I knew I could not have been good enough, and lacked the willpower to do anything about it. For a long time, there was some kind of resentment towards the Chamber Orchestra, probably to mask jealousy or insecurity. Despite my hidden anxiety, fourth hour was always a period I looked forward to. All respects to Mr. S, the class was not really about the teaching. It was about the music. Picking up my violin every day and letting my fingers do the work that they were so good at while my mind wandered was one of the only things that could really lift any anxiety I had, and I almost always had anxiety. The Strings Orchestra played myriad music, of more variety but lesser difficulty than the Chamber Orchestra. The Chamber almost always showed us up at concerts, besides once or twice when the Strings played marvelously on interesting songs while the Chamber unluckily got stuck with some more boring pieces. It was not about competition. It was about making music with your hands. By the time I left Orchestra Senior year to take AP Music Theory, I had spent half of my life playing the Violin. I made friends I’ll never lose and stimulated myself artistically to a degree that I doubt I will ever achieve again. Although the violin is not my passion, it is a part of myself I will never be able to remove.

The first truly great class I encountered that was in the vein of a traditional curriculum was my AP US History class with Mr. R Sophomore year. In many ways, looking back on that class is to me like viewing my ideal of what a High School social studies class should have been. Everyone needs to take US History and pass the Constitution test, but I felt like US History was less of a requirement and more of a privelage. Yes, I had my typical problems of motivation that prevented me from working to my full potential. There will always be worksheets I am too lazy to do, pages I am too lazy to read, and tests I am too lazy to study for. But I was always more motivated to work, read, and study for US History than any other class. This was due almost completely to Mr. R, who is nothing short of a brilliant teacher. The man could be a speech writer for christ’s sake. He stood in front of the class every day and delivered lectures that I will always remember for their passion, and the way he led class involvement was through full class and small group discussions about whatever issue in US History we were covering. His delivery was concise. This is what happened, these are the factors and questions we need to consider, let’s have a discussion. My notes for that class are defining of my personality. A tornado of notes, footnotes, drawings, thoughts, and feelings. I’ll remember US History not just for Mr. R, who might be my favorite High School teacher, but for how it felt like genuinely the first class in higher level education, as most everything in the previous year was BS.

Another class that I took sophomore year that I believe was a real higher level class was Debate with Mr. D. Every sophomore follows the same sophomore English program. For one semester, a sophomore takes a standard English class where literature is studied by varying curriculum. The other semester requires that the student take either a speech or debate class. I chose Debate, and I found myself sitting in Mr. D’s room. Mr. D is a man I will never forget…With the towering appearance of perhaps a lumberjack, or as he put it, Hagrid, he was a man of presence. When Mr. D talks, you listen. Debate was a lot of work. I’ll remember how silent the class always was when we were not actually debating, and then how each presentation lit the room on fire for just a few seconds only to have the flames die down again. It was not a fun class to do work for. There was a lot of paperwork, but there was also a lot of group work. We were forced to work together in studying difficult issues and learned how to create coherent arguments about any given topic, on either side. Mr. D is an extremely leftist individual, but surprisingly enough, he was able to keep his opinions balanced. I will never forget his speeches on gun control, wellfare, taxes, war and countless other issues. I will also never forget going up on stage, desperate for points, after the school macho man who had just made an extremely organized speech on something or other, and receiving a massive amount of points simply for stating my opinion and how it was in conflict with his. It taught me that just being there and speaking out really means something. This class more than achieved its goals.

In Junior year, I once again had Mr. R for a social studies class, this time Sociology. I confess, the only reason I signed up for Sociology was because I wanted to have Mr. R again. Luckily, Sociology was just as rewarding of a class as US History. I knew by Junior year that I was interested in pursuing Psychology in college. However, I had not yet taken a psychology class. I was hoping to take one over the summer before Junior year, but an irreconcilable road trip to Washington D.C. got in the way, and by the time class registration rolled about, there was no way to switch to Psychology from any other class. In Sociology, I was one of three Juniors in a class of Seniors. I felt somewhat like an outsider. However, the work and learning was still there. This was a good introduction to psychology because it worked with possibly the most applicable school of psychology right off the bat. It was a study of how societies and cultures worked, and also about specific societies and cultures, and their characteristics such as norms, linguistics, and taboos. The three Juniors were not outsiders in practice…We participated in class discussions that Mr. R was so wonderful at setting up. But in spirit, we were observers, which was probably the best thing we could have asked for. It seems like implausible irony, but the Seniors were in constant conflict and there was always some kind of drama within the class. The class was not a microcosm to aid our study, but I did feel like it was an exploration in social psychology that helped me appreciate Sociology much more. Particularly memorable was a discussion on class conflict that brought an individual to tears. Possibly the height of my social studies experience in high school.

The Junior English curriculum also allows for some options. In fact, now that I think about it, the English department might allow more options than any other department in the building, save perhaps Social Studies which matches its versatility. One could opt to take a Junior English class known as Interrelated Arts which was a study of just about every kind of contemporary art form, taking advantage of the great city of Chicago for lots of the studying. I however opted to take Junior English Honors, and I ended up with Mrs. R (no relation to Mr. R). It was not completely obvious to me right away that the class was as great as it really was. I disliked a considerable portion of the class…There was a row of about five people that did not seem to be able to quiet themselves and always drew unnecessary attention and distracted from the class. Mrs R was late to grade many papers and at first came off as irresponsible, which is an assumption that I now cringe to think about making. The truth of it was that Mrs. R was a full time mother of two as well as a full time teacher, so she had more than a full day of work to deal with within any 24 hour block of time. My other English classes before then, save Debate, were aimed toward the studies of classic works, some of which were enjoyable and some of which not so much. Yeah, I enjoyed reading The Lord of the Flies in Freshman year, but beyond that, none of the readings in High School had truly inspired me until Junior English. We studied myriad short stories of both the romantic movement and the realism movement. This alone was a breakthrough for my learning. I never really knew what it meant to be romantic or realistic in literature before then, so it was wonderful to be able to learn one of modern literature’s most important concepts straightaway. We also read the wonderful book The Great Gatsby, a fantastic combination of romanticism and realism, Hamlet, and The Scarlett Letter. Admittedly, I hated reading the Scarlett Letter save the odd chapter that would inspire me (A Flood of Sunshine makes no sense in the course of the book, at least in terms of its brilliance compared to the inconsistency of the rest of the book), but I learned a lot from reading it about myself and my tastes. Also very memorable was our experience with a Kindergarten class in the district, in which all of us found pen pals. Every few weeks, we would receive and write letters to our pen pals who were learning to read at the time. The act of discussing things with them was part of their reading and writing education, and by the end of the year, I definitely saw improvement in my pen pal, and was very happy to visit him and the rest of his class. I had never really experienced teaching firsthand before then. It gave me a good idea of what it really means to teach, and made me consider how different teaching Kindergarten and High School must be. An infinitely rewarding class despite its shortcomings.

By the time I took Psychology in Senior year, I had already decided I wanted to be a Psychology major. Maybe it was due to the fact that I was just starting to figure out how my brain worked that made me interested in psychology. It just seemed like such a basic, important study to me… The study of people. Taking Sociology the previous year only encouraged my interest. Lucky for me, my first Psychology class was perfect to start me off in the subject. The class was taught by Mr. G, a smart, fast thinking, smooth talking teacher who seemed to have captured the hearts of many of my female friends at the time. He was not fluff. His teaching style worked because everyone listened to him. Yes, there was a fair share of psychology videos, and nothing substitutes for reading the book thoroughly, but Mr. G always did the best he could to explain the main concepts as best as he could within class time and was always available to go in depth if we needed him to. I also loved the multitude of projects we were assigned within the semester. I loved the development project we partook in which made us explore our own development in particular. And I’ll never forget my own involvement in the teaching of classical conditioning…I was seated in front of the entire class. Mr. G read off a list of words. Whenever he said the word “can,” I was squirted in the eye with water from a spray bottle. I guarantee I will never forget the principles of classical conditioning. But I think what really made Psychology fun and memorable for me was the subject itself. I love Psychology, and learning the subject from the ground up was very rewarding.

The English department at my High School pulls something new out of it’s sleeves every year after the relatively standard Freshman English program. Sophomore year requires a Speech or Debate class. Junior year offers Interrelated Arts. But Senior year is the trump card, offering myriad options including Logic and Rhetoric, Creative Writing, Religious Quest, and my second semester choice, Film Criticism. My initial thought on Film Criticism was that it would be a rewarding class for me, an amateur writer and critic already, and I would be able to spend a class period a day enjoying one of my favorite mediums of art. I changed my mind soon after. Film Criticism started to sound like a disaster. A class full of second semester Seniors with little to lose, and little reason to do anything but screw off for an entire class period a day. The catch was that Mr. D, who was also my Sophomore Debate teacher, was the teacher for Film Crit. Like Debate class, Film Criticism had a massive, inordinate amount of paperwork. Yes, for about four days a week are spent watching movies, but as a student on the honors system in the class, I was required to read around five reviews or articles on a given movie per week, write extensive notes on the current film, read from my film criticism textbook, take a test on the odd day we weren’t actually watching a film, and write a report on each film. There was simply no time to slack off in the class, and because of how the class was built, we had to pay close attention to each film. Luckily, Mr. D was brilliant at choosing films and units of films to watch. We started off watching Minority Report, a light action adventure film with some deeper meaning that can be explored. The “Future Anxiety” unit continued, getting progressively more challenging, and the films in the unit got more ideologically complex as well as cinematically exciting. Even Mr. D questioned the quality of A.I.: Artificial Intelligence, but it forced us to take sides in an issue that high school seniors just don’t think about very much. We also watched Blade Runner, one of my favorite films, and Mr. D’s commentary on the films style and themes was extremely enlightening. The films only got more and more challenging. The next unit was the “Gender and Power” unit, with films ranging from the brilliant Afghani independent film Osama to the cheap thrill ride of Thelma and Louise. Then, the exhausting, brutal six film war unit, including Dr. Stangelove, Saving Private Ryan, Platoon, and Path’s of Glory. Finally clinching the year with one of the most challenging films I have ever watched, Dead Man Walking. What was most impressive about Mr. D was his unfailing ability to provide insight on every issue in frank, nonbiased way. After every film, the class would sit and have a discussion. We were usually quiet, not so much because it was nine in the morning but because we might have been speechless, and nothing we could have said could possibly have held a candle to anything Mr. D said. The big trick with Senior Film Criticism was that it was essentially a philosophy class in disguise. This was just how Mr. D operated. He drew us in with the medium of film itself, but what the class was really about was issues that we have to deal with in our modern world. He provided support for every point of view, and the passion with which he spoke about film was inspiring, and he made it clear that there was nothing he would rather be talking about than the art of film. I hope I can someday be as passionate a teacher as Mr. D, perhaps even in the same class, but realistically I don’t know if it gets much better than him.

These are my favorite classes from High School which I singled out for their educational value, and I will probably never forget them. While the majority of my High School education was sub par in comparison, they made the whole experience worth it, and I can only hope to have as rewarding classes in college. I’ll keep you posted on how that goes once it comes to it.



January 27, 2008

Since it opened in theaters approximately a week ago, I have seen Cloverfield three times. The people who work at the theater must think I’m pretty weird, because having also seen There Will Be Blood, I have been to the theater four times in the past week. Such behavior is for me unheard of, considering the price of movie tickets nowadays. In fact, I have been seeing most movies in theaters twice lately (Juno, Sweeney Todd). But three times? The last time that happened was with The Lord of the Rings: Return of The King, which won Best Picture at the Academy Awards and was a movie event for the ages. Why, then, did I not have any problems dropping money on seeing a (comparatively) low budget monster movie not once, not twice, but three times? Either I really liked all the people I saw it with (an obvious truth), or this movie has had some kind of draw, some quality that I have never seen in a movie before.

The first thing you have to know about Cloverfield is it’s marketing campaign, which is among the most successful viral marketing campaigns ever unleashed. For around six months, the details of Cloverfield had been relatively unknown, all the way up until it’s release on January 18th. In fact, for over half of that time, the only thing that was known about it was what could have been inferred from a short, cryptic trailer. The movie was simply known by it’s release date, 1/18/08, and the title Cloverfield was not confirmed until a short time before release. All anyone knew was that it is about a group of people who originate from the same going away party for a guy in New York City named Rob, when a giant monster inexplicably decides to attack the city, and that the movie is directed by JJ Abrams. During those six months, marketing tie ins ran rampant, and information was slowly released about the film. What shocks me about it is that nothing significant leaked before the movie’s release. This is the nice thing about making a middle budget film. You have big time corporation backing so that you can’t be taken advantage of, but you are also working small and have the benefit of utilizing a creative campaign like this. Movie buffs and monster nerds anticipated the movies release, and the identity of the then unknown monster, until 1/18/08.

My initial assumption was that the final product would not meet the hype, but that didn’t stop me from being interested. I did lower my standards however, because I knew that it would be hard for a movie to match my inflated expectations, but little did I know that Cloverfield would rock my world. I’m not even sure that I quite knew how much I liked it until I saw it for the second and third times.

I walked into the theater expecting a monster flick. I’m a big fan of monster flicks. Old ones. It is a dying genre. The last monster movie I can remember seeing in the theater before Cloverfield is Godzilla 2000, and I don’t remember being impressed. But once we sit down and give ourselves in to Cloverfield, it flips everything we know about monster movies upside down and kicks them out the door. It is one of the most well written and well executed “flicks” I have ever seen, but it’s greatness is concealed, and it is either fortunately or unfortunately destined to be a cult hit.

The setup, as I previously mentioned, is simple and effective. The movie is filmed from the perspective of a handheld video camera, so we see what the characters see, and we know what the characters know. The trick is not new. The Blair Witch Project used it around the turn of the century, and it has been synonymous with that film ever since, but it is just as effective here. The screen is always shaky, and two of the people I have seen the movie with complained of mild motion sickness, but ultimately the shaky camera works, and we get a perspective on the film that is very realistic, and at street level. Cloverfield is not about the giant monster that is ravaging the city. It is about the people who are affected by it. And the characters are very realistic and believable. My father complained about how many scenes in the movie were not believable at all, but if you are looking for realism in a movie about a giant monster, you are fighting a losing battle. Most of the complaints were that even after the movie ends, the viewer knows very little about the monster or why it is destroying New York City. We are not supposed to know this. Ultimately, the only stock character in the movie is the monster itself, and it is very much a secondary character. Giant monsters don’t destroy New York or Tokyo for any particular reason, and if they do, it is stupid. I did not, however, hear any complaints from anyone about the characters themselves, except from a movie critic who said he was rooting for the monster by the time the movie ended. The only reason I can infer for this reasoning is to see more of the monster itself, but if you are even remotely paying attention during the movie, you will realize that this comment is utter bullshit.

The web of characters writer Drew Goddard creates is impressive to say the least. There is a small amount of cheese in the platter, but that is to be expected in a flick. But the character development is subtle, in fact almost unnoticeable, although anything but undeniable. The core of the movie is spent with six characters. Rob Hawkins, as we know him, is the representation of a youthful, passionate America. He may or may not be nonexistant, but in any case he is the direction of the film, as it progresses. His goal is to rescue the girl, which is a movie staple that we are more than familiar with. It is old, but it works. Also present are the dumb but loveable cameraman Hud, Rob’s brother Jason and his girlfriend Lily, and the apple of Hud’s eye Marlena. The final character is Rob’s love interest, Beth. The characters are set up with great precision at the party, and as the movie progresses, they show their true character, intentions, and flaws. Jason is among the most impressive. He is presented right away as a problem solver, a funny person, and a caring individual. He is the kind of person you would want to have with you should you ever need to escape from New York, and even within the first ten minutes of the movie, we come to love him. He is killed promptly. I don’t know if it was to tug at our heartstrings, to prove a point, or to leave our characters with something to be distraught about, but in any case we know that this is a natural part of the progression of the movie. We didn’t want him to die, but he did, not because he was an unfortunate victim of a roller coaster ride of a movie, but because he chose to lead the party to the Brooklyn Bridge. The only reason that the other characters were not killed is because Rob received a phone call from Beth, which he pulled aside to answer among the crowd of fleeing citizens. The other characters stay behind with him, trying to pull him along, when we see Jason perched atop a figure in the distance yelling, “WHY DID YOU STOP!?” At this very moment, a gigantic arm strikes the Brooklyn Bridge.

One of the most important scenes in the movie is when the party flees the bridge and is mourning Jason’s tragic, untimely death. We get a shot of Rob’s shocked, empty face in response to this. Michael Stahl-David plays his part wonderfully, and we see him break down, silently, before our eyes, after which he trudges off to an electronic store. Rob has realized that the reason he is still alive is because of Beth’s phone call, and if he doesn’t try to play the hero and rescue her, Jason’s death is in vain. So he walks away. His walking is key. For the rest of the movie, he walks in a delusional limp, and this is a very important detail.

But perhaps the most impressively executed (literally and figuratively executed) character in the movie is Marlena, “the bitch,” who the innocent, sweet Hud tries to hit on multiple times. We don’t like her. In fact, we want her to die, just because of how rude she is to Hud, who we love. Then, after she saves his life, she begins to crawl out of her stock character and turn into a person we love. And then she dies, almost immediately. Her last words, a yelp of desire for Hud, are genuine, brought to the surface only by her subsequent death. These characters are brilliantly written because they are natural and realistic, which is strange, because we don’t go to the movies to see realism. We go to the movies to see giant monsters. Camquarter documentations of tragic events don’t have good character development. And yet the character development in Cloverfield is good. Very good. By at least the second time I watched the film, I started to ask myself what I even wanted out of the movie in the first place.

Well, I wanted a flick. And I definitely got a flick. I got scared to the greatest degree that a movie could possibly scare me. This is a well made movie, but it is also a fright fest that reminds us of why King Kong and Godzilla entertain us. We do, in fact, get to see the monster, in several terrifying shots. We had to, because if we hadn’t Cloverfield would just be another Blair Witch ripoff. The evil needs to have a face. Cloverfield has some love, some heroism, and some terror, all woven within one another nearly seamlessly.

Why this movie is so scary, and why it left me shivering uncontrollably after the first viewing, is questionable. Some of my discussions with others about the movie have uncovered facts and opinions that I would have never thought of otherwise. When I asked myself, “why did this movie scare me?”, the only answer I had was, “because it was scary.” But it can be easily realized that Cloverfield is an indirect nod to 9/11. This movie scares us as the events of 9/11 did, or as much as a movie can in that respect. For seven years, America’s greatest fear is an unexpected situation like our characters in Cloverfield have to encounter and deal with. Widespread panic, mass hysteria, martial law. This fear has been relatively untapped in the film industry, except maybe for Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds.

Cloverfield scares the shit out of us because a low budget monster flick should not feel so realistic, or close to our fears. Later in the film, Rob holds the camera to his face and tells us that if we are watching this tape, we know more about the situation than him. What makes Cloverfield terrifying is that we really don’t know any more than him. In fact, we know EXACTLY as much as him, because we have been following him closely throughout the entire film. I would almost say that the main character in Cloverfield is the camera itself. The movie is a chain of events, but unlike those of most monster movies, it is a chain of events that we do not question. The fact that the movie is brilliantly written is obscured by the slew of highly memorable cinematic shots and realistic effects. It is well written, well acted (surprise), well filmed (bigger surprise), and it works on the interior and the exterior. An excellent movie experience.



December 23, 2007

I have no better way to open a sentimental holiday post than with a simple fact. The weather here, in the Chicago area, is ass backwards. Last night at around midnight it was over thirty two degrees outside, I am completely certain. Everything was melting. It was one of those times when my town became a dripping playground of water. But the past few days since I got out of school have been generally very warm, but not quite as warm as yesterday. Yesterday, there was a thick fog blanketing the entire county. Driving in that weather is difficult. And it seems like everyone who is going well over the speed limit in thick fog also just can’t manage to turn their headlights on. This isn’t a hard concept. If you put a little snow on the ground, people drive like idiots. When it melts, that doesn’t seem to help.

This morning it is about fifteen degrees outside. It is frigid, but only because of the wind chill. Because so much of the snow melted yesterday, there is nothing but a thin, wispy layer left that flutters all around town in huge whirlwinds in the bitter wind. Tomorrow, it is supposed to get a little warmer, probably up to around thirty degrees, and I’m hoping that it will snow so that the Christmas snow isn’t quite so pathetic. I like having white Christmases. They are almost always white, so I guess the chances of it not being nice and snowy are unlikely. But now isn’t the time to get sentimental about snow. In February, I come out of my apartment on mornings like this in shock, because it feels like a heat wave.

I should be savoring this day. It’s an important day, to me anyway. It’s the last day before Christmas Eve, which is when winter inevitably starts to suck horribly. I love the holiday season. From about Black Friday to today, the world turns into something magical. I love that month… That is where you see the Christmas spirit. Windows at department stores, snow flurries, Christmas decorations, the shopping rush, warm clothing, the ever looming feeling of anticipation leading up to the day that the rest of the year has been leading up to, and that generally magical Christmas spirit. A lot of people don’t notice it, because they are looking too hard. And when someone on the radio asks you, “can you feel that Christmas spirit, Chicago?”, you really just want to blow your brains out. But it’s there. It’s definitely there. It’s subtlety is magic, and from Black Friday to today is my favorite time of the year, hands down.

And then there is Christmas, and the eve before it. I hate those two days. I hate them with a passion. Christmas is the most over hyped, corporate, disappointing holiday of them all. On Christmas, all those hopes and warm feelings are slaughtered in place of materialistic bombast. I’ll admit, I have never been an even remotely religious person at all, so maybe I’m missing half of the angle, that is the day of the Lord. See how I capitalized that “L?” Yeah, I did that for posterity’s sake. I don’t really care about what happened on the twenty fifth of December thousands of years ago. In fact, thinking about that just makes me grumpy. And following Christmas, as if that wasn’t bad enough, is another four months of dead, chilling winter. It’s not that this part of winter is so bad. It just lasts too long in Chicago, and you have to make it enjoyable on it’s own terms. It is usually depressing and lonely. I think the extreme cold does something to your neurons, and it makes one more easily disturbed by mundane things than usual. On a cold, two degree February morning, burnt toast scares me just as much as the walk to school, or the school itself. Etc, etc, etc. In any case, Christmas is worth it to me if just for the month that precedes it.

What I’m most glad about is getting off of school for two weeks. When I was a Freshman or a Sophomore, I might have felt a little differently, and I would have perhaps felt sad that I would not get to see the people I normally see at school for two whole weeks. But by now, I’m just sick of school, the workload, the social issues, and I just need a couple weeks off, which is exactly what I am getting, so as far as I am concerned I have little to complain about besides the inescapable grasp of the calendar. It feels good to not have to worry about English essays, or Calculus tests, or social strain. I’m getting a lot of stuff done that I don’t normally have time for. I am finally re-reading The Lord Of The Rings. My father gave me his nice copy of it, that he no longer uses, because he listens to them on tape. He has read The Hobbit along with the entire Lord Of The Rings trilogy approximately twenty times, maybe a little more. He would always make obscure references to the books when I was a kid, and in an attempt to understand them, I tried to read The Lord Of The Rings when I couldn’t have been older than ten years old. Horrible, horrible idea. I know I got to about halfway through The Two Towers, but only to such a degree that my ADD stricken childish mind could have managed. My eyes read the words, but my mind did not process the meaning. I finally gave up when I picked the book up in the middle of some long speech that Gandalf was making, the context of which I was completely clueless to. I say I have read those books, but I really might as well not have. And I’m finally doing that now. The volume that I read from now is red, ornate, and contains all three books, maps of Middle Earth and the appendices. I’m finally appreciating this literature for what it is. It isn’t just the source of story for the films, which I really did enjoy a lot. The Lord Of The Rings is the apex of fantasy literature, and it is fantastically written, and I am having tons of fun reading it now.

I also finally have the time to watch a lot of movies. It is an appropriate time of year to watch movies at home like Fargo, The Thing, and A Christmas Story. I watched Sweeney Todd last night. Whoo, boy. Now that one was fun. It rivaled Pan’s Labyrinth in terms of degree of disturbance. Lot’s of blood spilled. I like that every once and a while, and it’s alright because it was a great movie, but it was just DRAINING. Interestingly enough, there are a ton of movies I want to see in theaters now. Juno, The Kite Runner, and No Country For Old Men, particularly. But I really have to watch my cash. I’m really low on it, and I’ve been spending like crazy lately, for gifts and for myself. Hopefully.

As far as Christmas music goes, there is always that bombardment of tunes and jingles in storefronts, and on the radio. But in terms of albums, my ears have been particularly fixated on three chilling pieces that accompany the cold very well. Substrata by Biosphere, Treasure by Cocteau Twins, and Vespertine by Bjork. Expect reviews for Substrata and Vespertine in good time. I’ve already done one for Treasure that is sufficient.

Everybody have a wonderful holiday.



Howard Shore – The Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers

November 4, 2007

This orchestral score accompanies Peter Jackson’s second serving of J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic Lord of The Rings trilogy, The Two Towers. To many, including me, The Two Towers was the most interesting book and the most enthralling film, and the music has something to do with how tense and action packed the movie was. This is where hell breaks loose, and the music indicates as much. Most of the songs sway between quiet, mysterious movements and loud, dark, sweeping, full orchestra explosions at the drop of a feather. This keeps the score tense, progressive, and effective.

On one hand, the listener will hear many versions of the main Lord of The Rings themes that they have already been spoon fed hundreds of times before and probably won’t need to hear again. The Taming Of Smeagol, The Riders of Rohan, and The King of The Golden Hall are in this way songs that you may want to skip simply because you can already hum along to them. But even these songs carry the same urgency and sense of destruction that most of the movie communicated. This keeps even the familiar melodies rather fresh. But for the most part, the listener will most likely find the most enjoyment in the songs they don’t already know.

What Howard Shore has done here is craft an aural experience just as distinct as the visual and fictional experiences that it accompanies. There is a tint of Gaelic spirit in most every song, which adds to the overall coherency of the score. There are some songs meant to accompany the tense action scenes, such as The Uruk-Hai and Helm’s Deep, that do their damage very well, and recreate the dismal aura of Sauron’s lackeys.

When Tolkien created his books, he pushed his creative boundaries and created not just a series of books around his characters and events, but also a world. He wrote his own languages with their own phonetics, grammar, and vocabulary, and these languages are utilized here in several songs by accompanying soloists, as well as by booming female choruses. Isabel Bayrakdarian and Sheila Chandra sing exceptionally on Evenstar and Breath of Life respectively. But the real winner is, get ready, Liz Fraser appearing on Isengard Unleashed. Fraser has honed vocal emoting for decades using a language of angelic babel on her own, making her the most appropriate vocalist for this score. Her appearance, no matter how short, is deeply appreciated, and a bittersweet reminder that one of the worlds greatest singers still has her talent completely in tact after years of inactivity. There is some English singing on the closing Gollum’s Song by Emiliana Torrini, which captures the insanity of Gollum very well.

The most memorable themes that the soundtrack has to offer are The Passage of the Marshes, The Black Gate Is Closed, Evenstar, Treebeard, The Leave Taking, Breath of Life, and Isengard Unleashed. But this is a soundtrack worth picking up for it’s entirety. If you enjoyed any of The Lord Of The Rings movies, or have any appreciation for orchestral music whatsoever, you will really get a lot from this soundtrack, and really all of the Lord Of The Rings soundtracks. Don’t lie to yourself. Just because The Lord of The Rings has an army of ridiculous fanatics to back it up does not mean it is not quality literature. This soundtrack does great justice to the second Lord of The Rings film, which does great justice to the original book.


Dream Theater – Score DVD

September 29, 2007

I had the privilege of seeing Dream Theater play in Chicago during the 2007 Systematic Chaos tour. I am not even that huge of a fan of Dream Theater, but I will admit, I got my ass kicked by that concert. It was just one of those concerts that everyone should go see just because of the technical proficiency involved in the playing. Even if you find it hard to sit through a Dream Theater album, a Dream Theater concert will rock your face off. John Petrucci was, as always a beast, and his solos were top notch, faster and more blistering than usual. As a bass player, my eyes are always half glued to the axe wielder, and John Myung is an intense player, always standing stationary like some kind of ghostly brigger nailing out progressive grooves on his massive six string. I don’t think I need to say how ridiculous drummer Mike Portnoy is. He has to be one of the greatest drummers ever. His stage presence is massive, if nothing else, because his kit seems to take up half the stage anyway. Keyboard player Jordan Rudess is probably the least rocking member of the band, mostly because he spends most of his time on stage either reinforcing Petrucci’s already powerful chords or producing some cheesy, unnecessary solos of his own. But I was still impressed with his various keytar solos, even though they lasted far longer than they should have. He is the weakest link, if Dream Theater even has one. I used to think James LaBrie was the weakest member of the band. His vocals always annoyed me. But at that concert, he was impressive. His voice has not declined in twenty years, and he brings a certain amount of clarity to the music.

Despite the fact that Dream Theater are a rock band, they do have that clarity about them. Which is a big reason why people dislike them. Even for a progressive rock band, they always sound clean cut. They have the long, cheesy, cliche solos. LaBrie is, in many respects, too good of a singer and is not interesting in his delivery. Either you appreciate Dream Theater, or you don’t. Either you find them entertaining or trashy, both reasonable opinions.

So if you don’t like Dream Theater, this won’t convince you of anything, except maybe that they know how to produce a concert well. If you do like Dream Theater, Score is an asset, more so than any other bootleg or DVD, just because this is the band at their tightest and best sounding, with their most rounded set to date. If you don’t know Dream Theater, I guess this is as close as you can get to a greatest hits, because this is a 20th Anniversary concert and the band stretches out their entire career into the set.

But you have to consider two things here…The music and the video. You can buy the Score 3 CD set or the 2 DVD set.

For listening, Score is a real winner for Dream Theater fans. The setlist is really balanced. The first portion of the concert contains songs from the bands first ten years or so, hitting favorite numbers such as The Root Of All Evil, Under A Glass Moon, and the power ballad classic The Spirit Carries On. If you are the kind of person that appreciates that signature Dream Theater cheesy solo heroism, you will find some really good stuff here. After the first set, the Octavarium Orchestra is introduced, a full orchestra that accompanies the band for the rest of their set, for two disks, playing massive epics such as the forty minute long Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence, Octavarium, Metropolis, and some other good ones. The orchestra adds an extra level of talent and puts new angles on all of the songs. Their inclusion is the most appreciated part of the concert. The music here is great for what it is.

But what I found while watching the DVD was… It was a task. I mean, it was impressive, but there isn’t much to see, except all the solos. The show is so massive that it is really hard to hold ones attention through the whole thing unless you are big enough of a fan to recognize all the songs. I am not THAT big of a fan. And to be honest, each Dream Theater song develops in so many different directions that no matter how much I listen to them, I doubt I will ever become truly acquainted with their catalog. It’s not that Dream Theater are a band that you either love or hate. Of the ten people who I saw the concert with, only two of them were truly fans, and the rest of us just casual listeners. We really liked the concert. And if you like Dream Theater, you really should see them, because their live experience is half of what makes the band who they are. The energy of the concerts are really amazing. There is no replacement for hearing those opening bass licks of Panic Attack and just watching the whole venue light on fire with enthusiasm. When you are in the middle of them, Dream Theater concerts are fast, relentless, impressive. Pretty damn metal.

But I didn’t get much of that excitement from the Score DVD. You really have to be there to feel the energy. The visual component of Dream Theater is the live shows, but it only works if you are actually there. It’s really something I can’t explain any better, the energy just doesn’t translate to recording. Watching the band do what they do best on DVD boils down to one succinct advantage. You can sit on your ass and watch the carnage. It’s just not the same though. Especially this concert. It’s just to well produced, too perfect to feel like an authentic, dirty, dark rock and roll show. And besides, if you aren’t actually there, what you will be watching from a DVD like this is just what the musicians are doing with their hands, and your mind could have filled in those blanks anyway. I guess you can say that about any band though. In any case, the DVD didn’t impress me that much.

For the music, Score is a real winner. You can’t argue with a thirty piece orchestra doing that much collective damage and sounding completely tight, playing with the worlds finest progressive rock band. It adds a whole new angle to the music. But for the DVD, save your cash unless you are a big fan. If you are a casual fan like me and want to relive the concert experience a little more accurately, there are better options. I enjoyed it, but not THAT much, not more than Budokan anyway. A good release from a good band that won’t please everyone.


Five Shitty Movies

July 9, 2007

For years, one of my favorite hobbies has been watching horrible movies. Yes, it sounds stupid. But there are few things I enjoy more than making popcorn and watching a shitty movie. To me it is one of life’s finest pleasures. And trust me, I have seen a lot of shitty movies in my time. I have seen movies that I was told were shitty and turned out to be great, and I have seen movies that are said to be great and turned out to be shitty. Although it is all about perspective, some movies just take the cake, and are horrible films that I simultaneously love. I enjoy a bad movie, but it takes a special breed of shitty to make me feel the certain euphoria that drives the hobby. There are about five of these such movies that truly take the cake, my favorites I guess. Watch them. Soon.

The Blob

There are a few movies that I would consider very priceless and classic to the creature flick genre, the first and foremost being The Creature From The Black Lagoon and possibly Attack of the Giant Leeches. But The Blob is special in it’s own way, not just because it is a classic. What this gave birth to was the sub genre of creature flicks that featured a pathetically stupid antagonist, in this case a gigantic gelatinous pile of goo. This is, in some ways, a science fiction flick too, because The Blob does come from space. In the time that the beast spreads its greasy reign of chaos, it eats several residents of a small suburban town. When it sneaks into a movie theater, a classic shot is spawned when what feels like hundreds of innocent bystanders (a mildly impressive amount of extras anyway) race out of the building screaming, some with their 3D glasses still glued to their face. The final showdown between the blob, a terrified family, and the rest of the town is a joy to watch. As expected, the acting is horrible and the story is horrible. But it’s worth it just for the dull earthshaking bad ending. This is truly a great place to start in the realm of bad movies, because the realization that what you are watching is completely ridiculous takes a while to set in.

The Buddhist Fist

Another quintessential bad movie sub genre is the chopsaki kung-fu flick genre. I’ve seen a lot of chopsaki flicks. But I don’t think I have ever seen one as genuinely bad as The Buddhist Fist. It was one of those movies that I felt, at least for a time, was the worst I have ever seen. For sure it is the worst chopsaki flick I have ever seen. Every other movie of this kind has at least some kind of redeeming quality… Good one liners, good martial arts, good screenplay, SOMETHING. The Buddhist Fist is so astoundingly bad that there is simply nothing purposefully good about it. Instead, the movie is of worth on terms of hilarity only. The plot is incoherent and almost completely nonexistent, but you get the feeling if it did exist to a bigger extent, it would be severely retarded. It has something to do with two brothers who were both trained in martial arts, or something, that end up being enemies in the end. One of the movies best moments involves the lead actor killing his brother in the end, after which his master simply pats his shoulder and says, rather quaintly I might add after absolutely nothing is revealed or any higher ground is reached in the plot, “Now you understand.” I don’t feel bad about spoiling this, because it will make your eyes widen when you watch it even if you know it’s coming. Embarrassingly horrible moments like this are not few. The plot progresses with little to no rhyme or reason. The director is Yuen Wo Ping, who did the choreography for the Matrix. By those standards, I was expecting something at least half decent when I first bought this, but in fact, the choreography is absolutely horrible with obviously rhythmic and calculated, and completely stupid, “martial arts.” One of the catch lines was that this is also a humorous movie. That’s true. But only because of how much it embarrasses itself. The original dialog probably wasn’t even close to funny in it’s native tongue, let alone when dubbed poorly. The camera quality is deplorable on numerous occasions, the characters aren’t likable… You know what, I’m going to stop there. This is an astoundingly shitty movie that only reveals more faults every time you watch it. Essential martial arts film.

The Killer Shrews

This is just one of those movies that would have it’s effects tripled by gross amounts of marijuana. For several years, this has been the shitty movie of choice in my group of friends for many reasons. It was probably the first truly shitty movie I ever saw, introduced to me by my own mother, an avid fan of bad movies herself, when I was much younger. I can picture her screaming in laughter on a ratty old couch back in the seventies watching this movie, as the parade of dogs dressed up as Killer Shrews invade the house where our protagonists live, trapped on an island isolated from anyone who doesn’t smoke or drink in every shot. Some people actually cite this as a classic creature flick, which might be true. Sometimes, it actually does make some kind of sense, and it does progress in a way that could be entertaining to a mass audience. Perhaps this is why we like it so much…because we can make some kind of case for it. But make no mistake, the movie is absolutely abysmal. The acting sucks, the shews themselves are deliciously cheesy, and funny details are revealed upon numerous listens only reinforcing that this is one of the most poorly thought out movies ever. Just for a few small examples, the movie is obviously quite racist (think the classic quote “Automatic pilot can’t play Dixieland jazz on those banjos like I can!” and also the fact that god himself seems to smite our poor, sensible black accomplice), the main actress having an orgasm underneath the bizarre trashcan contraption that the team makes to escape the island, and the absolutely monumental train wreck of dialog in the final scene on the boat. This is a movie you come back to. This is a movie you watch every Halloween. Just say the name out loud, right now, in front of your computer monitor. The Killer Shrews. You know you want to watch this movie. Positively unfathomable.

Plan 9 From Outer Space

The phrase “worst movie ever” may be thrown around lightly in the world of film, but if you ask any given expert or film fan what the worst film ever made is, the chances are actually very good that they will mention Plan 9 From Outer Space. It is a movie that people talk about for a reason. Something this quotable or statistically loathed has to have something running for it, and it is true, this movie just might be the shittiest in existence. It probably isn’t the funniest in terms of poor quality, or even the most obvious, but it is a classic shitty movie. Astoundingly shitty. Written by cult hero Ed Wood, the movie is about bureaucratic aliens raising a select few zombies from the earth in hopes to take over the world, or at least save it from making the universe explode (a controversy that at first seems interesting until the viewer realizes how grossly implausible and stupid it is). And I suppose this detail might fairly represent how down-to-business this movie is in terms of it’s poor quality. From the getgo, people say stupid things, act poorly, and spot deliciously cheesy wobbling flying saucers in the sky. The magnitude of silly quotes in this movie is really uncountable. There was one good actor, Bela Lugosi, possibly the greatest hero of this entire genre. But he was given a part that held absolutely no significance to the movie and involved no dialog, the part of an old man who shortly after death was zombified by the aliens. At first this seems pretty awesome, because his specialty is bad movies. And in fact, he uses the same cape that he used in the original Dracula back in the day. But he died halfway through filming, and another extra was forced to wear the cape and hold it over his face, as if his part actually mattered or anything. Anyway, this movie definitely deserves it’s title, and perhaps through the years of shitty movies and endless questioning, it might still be the worst movie ever made. Ed Wood would accept no less.

Teenagers From Outer Space

In the great scheme of things, the most hilarious movie in the vein of “so bad it’s good” classic cinema is by far Teenagers From Outer Space. Almost nothing is good about it, and yet every bad aspect leads back to hilarity. This is the quintessential science fiction shitty movie. The premise is somewhat believable. A race of aliens that happen to speak English, and none of which are teenagers, seek to enslave the world to aid their lobster growing economy, except one of them, the son of the race’s supreme ruler (named Derek no less), who befriends the humans and wishes to turn the rest of the invaders back home. It makes some sense. The dialog is cheesy, and the acting is deplorably bad. The strongest point of the movie is it’s consistency to surprise. While movies like Plan 9 and Killer Shrews have their low spots where they are boring and do not surprise with any particular moments of idiocy, Teenagers From Outer Space stays really bad all the way through and has more memorable bad moments than other favorites. The sheer magnitude of stereotypes covered in this movie is, to many, off-putting, but it is likely that this movie staked many of them for the first time. Experts (aka my friend who knows ten times more about bad movies than I) cites some of the films best moments as the awkward alien/human cheesy love affair, classy rayguns that immediately turn all humans into the same plastic skeleton instantaneously, and the fact that the main nemesis is not a lobster, but the SHADOW of a lobster. I find few words to describe this movie. You really should get it. In fact, if you are going to get only one bad movie on this list, you had best be getting this one.


Blades of Glory

April 9, 2007

I know what you are thinking, and I know what you want to ask, so I’ll just ask it for you to save you time. Alex, why the hell did you see blades of glory? Because I love seeing movies, that’s why. I wasn’t expecting much at all, but fortunately this was a very funny movie whose problems dig deep. So deep in fact that they go unnoticed to everyone watching. The fortunate thing is that this is a good comedy flick and worth your time if you want some laughs. It may not be a memorable movie, and it won’t gain cult status like other related movies have, but it’s definitely a step up in both main actors careers, even if it doesn’t really show any promise.

The premise is everything you would have expected from a movie containing either main actor. Jon Heder plays a dumb but ultimately sweet pretty boy who has gained cult status as a flawless ice skater Jimmy MacElory, and Will Ferrell plays a half-skater half-sex idol Chazz Michael Michaels. Jimmy “still looks like a fifteen year old girl but not hot,” and Chazz’s personal philosophy is “clothing optional.” They are warring rivals in the competitive (and apparently completely ridiculous) world of figure skating, and they both get banned from the men’s singles division when they beat each other up when they tie during a competition. After three and a half years of vomiting and selling skating related products, they reunite to compete in the doubles competition. Together. With twin dongs. The plot is as always predictable and stupid, but this movie was never meant to be anything more than predictable and stupid, so it’s not really bad when the main characters fight over a girl who is equally as stupid as Jimmy, have to deal with an unbelievably cliche rival brother-sister pair who you always knew would end up making out with one another in the end, and building an awkward friendship despite their differences.

The noteworthy part of this movie is the humor and laughs that it delivers. Not on any sophisticated levels, but what were you expecting from a movie with these two people in it. Like Anchorman, this isn’t afraid to be obnoxious. And in a good way. It’s all lighthearted humor, but it’s not afraid to touch on the gay stuff. Which is good, because it’s the kind of humor that people appreciate in this day and age. Maybe not the people who may have gone to see Ricky Bobby, or perhaps more accurately not the people who were too offended by their “sport” being slammed to go see Ricky Bobby. In any case, only a certain niche of people will appreciate the two actors 69’ing on the ice while fireworks are exploding out of their feet, or for that matter anything in the semifinal which is by far the gayest ice skating performance you have ever seen. And no one won’t laugh when they see the historic North Korean ice skating footage. This movie is well written and funny, and half of the humor will most likely go past a thirteen year olds head.

Upon walking into the theater I had middle ground hopes that were surpassed. No question, this is Will Ferrell’s funniest movie since anchorman and Jon Heder’s funniest (well, only funny) movie since Napoleon Dynamite. And yes, Will Ferrell was at one point a funny actor, most notably in Zoolander and the Ladies Man, with a funny over the top style, and no, I don’t care what you contend. Anchorman is the obvious winner though, and I could probably watch that movie one hundred times and still laugh when Steve Carell harpoons the Spaniard on the horse. And yes, it’s true, I love Napoleon Dynamite. It may have been ludicrously milked by the constant ‘Vote For Pedro’ t-shirts and endless quotations, but it would be criminal to call it anything other than a well written comedy. It’s a cultural staple too, whether or not people like it. And I think the fact that I love both of those movies made watching Blades of Glory a little more subtly painful. These characters are not original. In fact, their personalities and actions almost completely mirror that of their previous films. Jon Heder is still, for all intents and purposes, the dumb teenager that he played in Napoleon Dynamite. He is awarded with blue skittles on numerous occasions, drinks juice boxes, plays gameboy, and does odd choreographed skating while dressed as a peacock. The good thing is most of these details are subtle and they build his character over time. Will Ferrell on the other hand is an obvious mesh of Ricky Bobby and Ron Burgundy, and we’ve seen his character one too many times.

Standing alone this movie is pretty damn good, but it’s unoriginal as all getout, even when it tries not to be, and I can only imagine the writers thinking to themselves how smart they are for milking characters that have already made millions. And not just the characters, but the styles of their preceding movies as well. Yes, it’s still funny when Will Ferrell tries to get Jimmy to “carve some ice with his weiner,” but that really doesn’t mean anything because no one is going anywhere. It’s the same humor as Anchorman and Napoleon Dynamite crammed into one movie, which might be what you’re looking for. I laughed when Jimmy tells Chazz he is stupid because night is dark for everyone, to which he responds “Not to be people in Alaska. Or dudes with night-vision goggles.” It’s an alright movie, and possibly a relevant movie in the careers of two otherwise completely irrelevant actors. My advice, if you think you have seen this before just skip it, it’s not rewarding and you won’t be too surprised, but if you are looking for a movie to see over the weekend and you grow tired of all the slasher flicks, this WILL make you giggle, however silly and stupid it is.