Funnny as shit, right? No? Well, fuck you then. Back to my sippy-sippy I go....
A movie that should only be appreciated after you can blame it on the alcohol.
Friday, March 13, 2009
"Cool beans." So random.
Okay, so I'm kinda drunk right now. Sitting here sipping on my cranberry-and-watermelon-vodka cooler (don't ask), and watching that Andy Samberg comedy Hot Rod. Mad at myself for finding this shit pretty hilarious. But this scene just came one that made me rewind my DVR about three times to make sure it was really happening and not just some figment of my intoxicated imagination. Apparently, it's real, as proven by glorious Youtubes. See for yourselves, it's actually quite for-the-laughs:
Funnny as shit, right? No? Well, fuck you then. Back to my sippy-sippy I go....
A movie that should only be appreciated after you can blame it on the alcohol.
Funnny as shit, right? No? Well, fuck you then. Back to my sippy-sippy I go....
A movie that should only be appreciated after you can blame it on the alcohol.
The "early Wes Craven was a hack" analysis
Whether you worship at the altar of the filmmaker's respective filmography or not, genre cinema's icons coast by on wheels of admiration, and rightfully so. Where would horror be without the early work of fellas such as John Carpenter, Dario Argento, George Romero, Joe Dante, and so on, so forth?
I wonder, though, if casting a veteran director in such a light doesn't cause people to overlook the possibility of his/her inferior skills. Case in point: Wes Craven. Earlier this week, in preparation for Dennis Iliadis' vastly-effective, better-than-your-favorite-mainstream-critic-not-named-Roger-Ebert-is-declaring The Last House on the Left remake, I rewatched Craven's 1972 original. The plan was to compare and contrast the two after I'd seen this new one, but as I sat on the train home from the early screening, all I could do was beat Craven's predecessor down peg after peg. What I officially realized while giving the DVD another go was just how shitty of a film that '72 entry is, and that even the more visceral sequences have lost chunks of their force. Sitting through them back in the early '70s must've been one hell of a right hook to the senses, and a few scattered spots throughout the desecration-in-the-woods setpiece still pack a significant punch. But too much surrounding those punches is trite, meandering, and foolish. First off, Craven's decision at the time to cut back-and-forth from the rape images to two dumbass hick cops totally undermines the power of the girls' plight, a truth that's been hailed ad naus by all film critics and lovers. It's all the more obvious while watching Iliadis handle the sequence, though, showing just how damaging the viewing experience can be when you're at the mercy of an uncompromising, widely-talented visual filmmaker. Something that Craven was not.
Disclaimer: No, I do not enjoy watching rape. Chill. What truly makes the rape sequence in this new Last House soar through the roof, for me, though, is the way Iliadias and screenwriters Adam Alleca and Carl Ellsworth preface it. From the moment the four on-the-lam deviants encounter the two innocent gals in their hotel room, the tone of what transpires improves greatly over that of Craven's film. In Craven's the four criminals are insulting, coarse assholes with zero redeeming qualities, at times coming off a bit cartoonish. So when they toss the girls into the trunk of their car, there's zero mystery about what's going to happen. When the rape scenes comes, same with the murders, it's more of a climax than a revelation. In this remake, however, the only reason why this section also resulted in a climax is that I know the source material in and out; If I were a casual moviegoer, though, with no knowledge of the original, I would've been unsure as to the villains' intentions. There's a great scene in their SUV as they're driving the kidnapped, scared girls to God-knows-where that's as much a showcase for Iliadis' directorial chops as it is a testament to the remake's superiority. You can't tell what's going to happen, if the villains are going to kill the girls, or just one of them. Krug, the crew's ice-cold leader, shows a morsel of respect toward Mary, the stronger of their prey, and you think, "Maybe he'll let her go." But then Mary acts a bit too impulsively, fucks up any hope of salvation, and the villains have a diesel motive to move ahead with rape/murder.
The Last House on the Left 2009 has a slew of narrative changes such as that, and they're all for the better, which isn't to say that tweaks in the script are my justifications for proclaiming Wes Craven to be a hack director. There just wasn't even one facet of this remake that felt lesser than its original. And I recalled myself thinking the exact same thing about Alaexandre Aja's awesome Hills Have Eyes remake. So many flaws and missed-the-mark moments are abound in Craven's 1977 Last House follow-up that Aja, like Iliadis, was given ample room for improvement.
The point surfaces: the only early Craven film that is near flawless is A Nightmare on Elm Street, but otherwise there's not a "undeniably great" film in his lot. Each is spotty, uneven. Worth merit more for its after-effects than for its actual quality. Scream, of course, is great, but I consider that a rebirth for the guy, thus rendering it "out of contention" here.
On second thought, didn't he have a hand in writing that recent Hills Have Eyes 2, or as I like to refer to it, Worst Horror Sequel of the Last Ten Years? Pretty positive he did. "Rebirth, schrebirth," I guess, unfortunately.
Lest we forget that Craven directed a little piece of shit called Deadly Friend, too, a mess only saved by the quintessential death-by-basketball scene in film history. Or that he was responsible for Eddie Murphy's Vampire in Brooklyn, a laugher-for-the-wrong-reasons that explains itself in title alone. Blacula it was not.
And back to Aja's Hills Have Eyes real quick.....look no further than the trailer-attack. One of the most intense, stomach-twisting, perfectly-paced and scored sequences in recent memory, all to the credit of Aja. I not-too-long ago watched both that scene and its companion piece from Craven's '85 flick back to back (because that's the kind of thing I like to do on my spare time, yes), and it was quite staggering just how immensely more insane and devastating Aja's is, in the context of modern filmmaking advances or not. Neither scene is particularly showy in terms of effects, so the time-frame argument feels meaningless. Aja now is just a way better filmmaker than Craven then. That simple.
Listen....I respect Craven immensely, and I'm wholly aware of how much his contributions mean to my beloved genre. I'm just the type who tries to call a spade "a spade" as often as possible. Until some well-informed film head can break down the technical prowess of Wes Craven "the director," I'm sticking to my rifles. Ironically, the person most responsible for my realization is Wes Craven himself---he produced both the Last House and Hills Have Eyes remakes, and hand-picked eye-opening foreign filmmakers to commandeer the ships. So for that, I can admire the man even more. Who knows, maybe he'd agree with me that his early career wasn't the best of skill-flashing. He's repeatedly admitted that he had no clue what the hell he was doing while making his Last House on the Left. Just sucks that it shows more than ever now.
Craven's best at what, then? As a producer, clearly. He has an impeccable eye for talent, as seen in his picks of Aja and Iliadis. The versions of his stories that he's behind-the-scenes instead of the camera for thrive much more on character and delicate pacing. The guy knows what makes for good horror, and knows how to pull it out of others. Shame that he can't do the same for himself.
I'd be lying to myself if I didn't give early Craven kudos for this, though.....from 1985's foul-tasting Hills Have Eyes 2, comes..... a dog flashback!!!:
I wonder, though, if casting a veteran director in such a light doesn't cause people to overlook the possibility of his/her inferior skills. Case in point: Wes Craven. Earlier this week, in preparation for Dennis Iliadis' vastly-effective, better-than-your-favorite-mainstream-critic-not-named-Roger-Ebert-is-declaring The Last House on the Left remake, I rewatched Craven's 1972 original. The plan was to compare and contrast the two after I'd seen this new one, but as I sat on the train home from the early screening, all I could do was beat Craven's predecessor down peg after peg. What I officially realized while giving the DVD another go was just how shitty of a film that '72 entry is, and that even the more visceral sequences have lost chunks of their force. Sitting through them back in the early '70s must've been one hell of a right hook to the senses, and a few scattered spots throughout the desecration-in-the-woods setpiece still pack a significant punch. But too much surrounding those punches is trite, meandering, and foolish. First off, Craven's decision at the time to cut back-and-forth from the rape images to two dumbass hick cops totally undermines the power of the girls' plight, a truth that's been hailed ad naus by all film critics and lovers. It's all the more obvious while watching Iliadis handle the sequence, though, showing just how damaging the viewing experience can be when you're at the mercy of an uncompromising, widely-talented visual filmmaker. Something that Craven was not.
Disclaimer: No, I do not enjoy watching rape. Chill. What truly makes the rape sequence in this new Last House soar through the roof, for me, though, is the way Iliadias and screenwriters Adam Alleca and Carl Ellsworth preface it. From the moment the four on-the-lam deviants encounter the two innocent gals in their hotel room, the tone of what transpires improves greatly over that of Craven's film. In Craven's the four criminals are insulting, coarse assholes with zero redeeming qualities, at times coming off a bit cartoonish. So when they toss the girls into the trunk of their car, there's zero mystery about what's going to happen. When the rape scenes comes, same with the murders, it's more of a climax than a revelation. In this remake, however, the only reason why this section also resulted in a climax is that I know the source material in and out; If I were a casual moviegoer, though, with no knowledge of the original, I would've been unsure as to the villains' intentions. There's a great scene in their SUV as they're driving the kidnapped, scared girls to God-knows-where that's as much a showcase for Iliadis' directorial chops as it is a testament to the remake's superiority. You can't tell what's going to happen, if the villains are going to kill the girls, or just one of them. Krug, the crew's ice-cold leader, shows a morsel of respect toward Mary, the stronger of their prey, and you think, "Maybe he'll let her go." But then Mary acts a bit too impulsively, fucks up any hope of salvation, and the villains have a diesel motive to move ahead with rape/murder.
The Last House on the Left 2009 has a slew of narrative changes such as that, and they're all for the better, which isn't to say that tweaks in the script are my justifications for proclaiming Wes Craven to be a hack director. There just wasn't even one facet of this remake that felt lesser than its original. And I recalled myself thinking the exact same thing about Alaexandre Aja's awesome Hills Have Eyes remake. So many flaws and missed-the-mark moments are abound in Craven's 1977 Last House follow-up that Aja, like Iliadis, was given ample room for improvement.
The point surfaces: the only early Craven film that is near flawless is A Nightmare on Elm Street, but otherwise there's not a "undeniably great" film in his lot. Each is spotty, uneven. Worth merit more for its after-effects than for its actual quality. Scream, of course, is great, but I consider that a rebirth for the guy, thus rendering it "out of contention" here.
On second thought, didn't he have a hand in writing that recent Hills Have Eyes 2, or as I like to refer to it, Worst Horror Sequel of the Last Ten Years? Pretty positive he did. "Rebirth, schrebirth," I guess, unfortunately.
Lest we forget that Craven directed a little piece of shit called Deadly Friend, too, a mess only saved by the quintessential death-by-basketball scene in film history. Or that he was responsible for Eddie Murphy's Vampire in Brooklyn, a laugher-for-the-wrong-reasons that explains itself in title alone. Blacula it was not.
And back to Aja's Hills Have Eyes real quick.....look no further than the trailer-attack. One of the most intense, stomach-twisting, perfectly-paced and scored sequences in recent memory, all to the credit of Aja. I not-too-long ago watched both that scene and its companion piece from Craven's '85 flick back to back (because that's the kind of thing I like to do on my spare time, yes), and it was quite staggering just how immensely more insane and devastating Aja's is, in the context of modern filmmaking advances or not. Neither scene is particularly showy in terms of effects, so the time-frame argument feels meaningless. Aja now is just a way better filmmaker than Craven then. That simple.
Listen....I respect Craven immensely, and I'm wholly aware of how much his contributions mean to my beloved genre. I'm just the type who tries to call a spade "a spade" as often as possible. Until some well-informed film head can break down the technical prowess of Wes Craven "the director," I'm sticking to my rifles. Ironically, the person most responsible for my realization is Wes Craven himself---he produced both the Last House and Hills Have Eyes remakes, and hand-picked eye-opening foreign filmmakers to commandeer the ships. So for that, I can admire the man even more. Who knows, maybe he'd agree with me that his early career wasn't the best of skill-flashing. He's repeatedly admitted that he had no clue what the hell he was doing while making his Last House on the Left. Just sucks that it shows more than ever now.
Craven's best at what, then? As a producer, clearly. He has an impeccable eye for talent, as seen in his picks of Aja and Iliadis. The versions of his stories that he's behind-the-scenes instead of the camera for thrive much more on character and delicate pacing. The guy knows what makes for good horror, and knows how to pull it out of others. Shame that he can't do the same for himself.
I'd be lying to myself if I didn't give early Craven kudos for this, though.....from 1985's foul-tasting Hills Have Eyes 2, comes..... a dog flashback!!!:
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Orphan, yet another killer-kid flick.....excited yet?
For my money, there has really only been three genuinely great "scary/demon-y kid" movies: The Omen (1976), David Cronenberg's The Brood (1979), and 2007's Joshua. Granted, a few generally respected ones I've yet to see, so this is just based off the creepy-tyke films I can attest to knowing firsthand. (Not sure if Alice, Sweet Alice counts, but if so that'd be a close fourth place.) The problem I have with these films is that I'm just not scared of little kids, in the slightest. Like Chucky in the Child's Play flicks, tiny assailants strike me as the pussiest of all---why not just punt the little fucker and call it a day?
The thought of yet another "kid with devilish secrets" addition has me yawning and then wondering if I'll get to slide into an Inglourious Basterds media screening or not, which gives this new film Orphan a huge point deducted. This trailer that I just came across, though, has more punch than I expected, so it's off to a positive start, at least. Its leads, Vera Farmiga and Peter Sarsgaard, are both far from slouches, so you'd think that two respectable actors wouldn't sign on to something poisoned by a shitty script. Of course, hell can happen during filming and/or post-production that's out of their hands, but if the script is strong enough, there's potential to be had. I can also partially appreciate the choice to have it be an evil girl rather than a boy, which is rare for whatever reason(s).
Hunches say that this one will suck, but I'm willing to give it a shot. More than I could've said two hours ago.
ORPHAN trailer in HD
Problem Child (The Horror Remix), basically.
Hold up....I just learned that Orphan's director, Jaume Collet-Serra, has only directed one other genre flick, and it was that fairly-wack House of Wax remake with Paris Hilton. Hilton's death scene was kinda solid, but otherwise that ish did nothing for me. Orphan is his follow-up, eh? Ruh roh!
The thought of yet another "kid with devilish secrets" addition has me yawning and then wondering if I'll get to slide into an Inglourious Basterds media screening or not, which gives this new film Orphan a huge point deducted. This trailer that I just came across, though, has more punch than I expected, so it's off to a positive start, at least. Its leads, Vera Farmiga and Peter Sarsgaard, are both far from slouches, so you'd think that two respectable actors wouldn't sign on to something poisoned by a shitty script. Of course, hell can happen during filming and/or post-production that's out of their hands, but if the script is strong enough, there's potential to be had. I can also partially appreciate the choice to have it be an evil girl rather than a boy, which is rare for whatever reason(s).
Hunches say that this one will suck, but I'm willing to give it a shot. More than I could've said two hours ago.
ORPHAN trailer in HD
Problem Child (The Horror Remix), basically.
Hold up....I just learned that Orphan's director, Jaume Collet-Serra, has only directed one other genre flick, and it was that fairly-wack House of Wax remake with Paris Hilton. Hilton's death scene was kinda solid, but otherwise that ish did nothing for me. Orphan is his follow-up, eh? Ruh roh!
Iron Man 2's cast finally locks itself in
Many have asked me why I don't talk about last year's Iron Man that much, assuming that I'm not a fan. Wrong they are. It's just not as lofty in my mind as, say, the dozen films from last year I do still bring to attention. Still totally enjoyed Iron Man, loved everything about it except for its way-too-anticlimactic final hero-vs-villain confrontation. The really good far outweighed that one bad, fortunately, especially the little touches: the first time Tony Stark tries flying, a proper example.
For some inexplicable reason, I'm finding myself giddily enthused for next year's sequel, which is odd considering the lack of energy I've paid the first film other than deserved props awarded. I think the initial excitement settled in once Don Cheadle was announced as a sudden replacement for Terrance Howard, who I felt brought nothing to Iron Man. Cheadle is one of the best working actors in the game, so a notch was latched onto the sequel's iron belt. And then the announcements of Sam Rockwell and Mickey Rourke---two of my favorites on any screen---joining the fold as two villains hit, and I became officially jazzed. Then, British eye-pleaser Emily Blunt was announced as the victor of a coveted "Black Widow" third villain role, and the shit became a venerable platter of untouchable talent. However, backtracks and take-backs threatened the joy with reports of Rourke being lowballed with a meager financial offer, and Blunt having to fall back due to contractual obligations to star alongside Jack Black in a Gulliver's Travels film. All wasn't seeming well with Iron Man 2 suddenly.
Well, the revolving door seems to have finally shut, and the cast is confirmed. Rourke will indeed be playing the head villain, "Whiplash," who "will incorporate elements of the Crimson Dynamo’s backstory and appearance, along with elements of the comic book Whiplash, a former Stark employee who builds a costume that allows him to wield cybernetically controlled and electrically charged whips that can cause some serious damage to the Iron Man armour. Think Indiana Jones plugged into the mains and you’re on the right path." [Empire Online]:
And, stepping for Blunt to fill the Black Widow's skintight leather one-piece and stilettos is Scarlett Johansson, which should make any comic book-loving straight male pop something down below. Emily Blunt was clearly the best choice, so this is definitely a downgrade. Johansson has yet to prove much in the way of "exceptional acting" abilities, though she's exceptionally hot and always likeable on screen---two important traits. If anything, just think, this body, wrapped in a form-fitting bad-girl garb:
Albeit while delivering a terrible Russian accent, since Black Widow hails from, you guessed it, Russia, and Johansson doesn't strike me as a master of voice deception. Chatter has it that Johansson auditioned for the role early on but was passed over for Emily Blunt. Luck changes sometimes, a truth that Mrs. Ryan Reynolds must be currently preaching as a tome. Not to mention blockbuster franchise over pride.
Iron Man 2's cast now stands at: Robert Downey, Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Mickey Rourke, Sam Rockwell, and Scarlett Johansson. How's that for "stacked"?
Iron Man 2, out in May 2010.
News learned over at: Empire Online
For some inexplicable reason, I'm finding myself giddily enthused for next year's sequel, which is odd considering the lack of energy I've paid the first film other than deserved props awarded. I think the initial excitement settled in once Don Cheadle was announced as a sudden replacement for Terrance Howard, who I felt brought nothing to Iron Man. Cheadle is one of the best working actors in the game, so a notch was latched onto the sequel's iron belt. And then the announcements of Sam Rockwell and Mickey Rourke---two of my favorites on any screen---joining the fold as two villains hit, and I became officially jazzed. Then, British eye-pleaser Emily Blunt was announced as the victor of a coveted "Black Widow" third villain role, and the shit became a venerable platter of untouchable talent. However, backtracks and take-backs threatened the joy with reports of Rourke being lowballed with a meager financial offer, and Blunt having to fall back due to contractual obligations to star alongside Jack Black in a Gulliver's Travels film. All wasn't seeming well with Iron Man 2 suddenly.
Well, the revolving door seems to have finally shut, and the cast is confirmed. Rourke will indeed be playing the head villain, "Whiplash," who "will incorporate elements of the Crimson Dynamo’s backstory and appearance, along with elements of the comic book Whiplash, a former Stark employee who builds a costume that allows him to wield cybernetically controlled and electrically charged whips that can cause some serious damage to the Iron Man armour. Think Indiana Jones plugged into the mains and you’re on the right path." [Empire Online]:
And, stepping for Blunt to fill the Black Widow's skintight leather one-piece and stilettos is Scarlett Johansson, which should make any comic book-loving straight male pop something down below. Emily Blunt was clearly the best choice, so this is definitely a downgrade. Johansson has yet to prove much in the way of "exceptional acting" abilities, though she's exceptionally hot and always likeable on screen---two important traits. If anything, just think, this body, wrapped in a form-fitting bad-girl garb:
Albeit while delivering a terrible Russian accent, since Black Widow hails from, you guessed it, Russia, and Johansson doesn't strike me as a master of voice deception. Chatter has it that Johansson auditioned for the role early on but was passed over for Emily Blunt. Luck changes sometimes, a truth that Mrs. Ryan Reynolds must be currently preaching as a tome. Not to mention blockbuster franchise over pride.
Iron Man 2's cast now stands at: Robert Downey, Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Mickey Rourke, Sam Rockwell, and Scarlett Johansson. How's that for "stacked"?
Iron Man 2, out in May 2010.
News learned over at: Empire Online
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The best-named movie of '09 now has a trailer
Guru once said that it's "mostly the voice," but I beg to differ. For my money, it's mostly the title. That often-neglected and rarely nailed eye-grabber, deal starter. The evidence is easily seen on the backs of rap album packaging (this applies to all music genres, of course, but let's stick to rap here)---I don't know about anybody else, but when I flip over some Yung Thugga lame's CD and read song titles such as "Keepin' It Real," "Gangsta Shit," "I Got That Swag," and "My Kinda Chick," I immediately delete anything to do with Yung Thugga from the memory bank and move on to Terrible New Rapper Number Two. Who will surely have even more sans-creativity/red-flagged titles to offer. On the flipside, I'd give plenty of day-time to any new release from a group such as Jedi Mind Tricks; sure, they're music always sounds the same, and Vinnie Paz's spit is like acid dripping on the eardrum, but that's a nowhere-road I'm willing to take when their songs are called shit like "The Age of Sacred Terror," "Tibetan Black Magicians," and "Chinese Water Torture." Reading those titles, I'm left clueless as to how such weighty ideas will work in a rap tune, but I'll gladly listen for myself.
In simpler terms, effective titles can do little more than spread the product's general story out in clear-cut ways with a basic hook. Case in point: Sam Raimi's return to horror, Drag Me to Hell. Best horror movie title in the last few years? Could very well be. Succinctly states that some craziness will commence, yet remains just foggy enough to draw intrigue. The plot has something to do with a girl who pisses off the wrong demon and begins feeling the brunt of Hell's fury, which works for me. All I ask of this flick is that it signal an "I'm back" to Evil Dead/batshit-nutty-setpieces horror for Sir Raimi, who has now established himself as a blockbuster wizard thanks to the Spiderman franchise.
Just in time to play in front of this week's The Last House on the Left (a film that I can already tell will require tons of explanatory defenses-of-enjoyment on my end), here's the first trailer for Drag Me to Hell. If I hadn't already read a slew of fawning response from horror talking-heads after a test screening last month, I'd be a bit concerned as a result of this trailer. Not a total failure, but hasn't done enough to send anticipation into overdrive. Faith is being comfortably had, though. Word is that the seance sequence (which we can see glimpses of here) rocks the shit. The lack of Jessica Lucas (who co-stars as the lead's, Allison Lohman, best friend) presence in this preview is disheartening (my fellow Cloverfield respect-ors know who I'm talking about), but the amount of demon arms promises a smorgasbord of creeps. And that's always celebratory.
Your EZ-Pass to Hell awaits:
In simpler terms, effective titles can do little more than spread the product's general story out in clear-cut ways with a basic hook. Case in point: Sam Raimi's return to horror, Drag Me to Hell. Best horror movie title in the last few years? Could very well be. Succinctly states that some craziness will commence, yet remains just foggy enough to draw intrigue. The plot has something to do with a girl who pisses off the wrong demon and begins feeling the brunt of Hell's fury, which works for me. All I ask of this flick is that it signal an "I'm back" to Evil Dead/batshit-nutty-setpieces horror for Sir Raimi, who has now established himself as a blockbuster wizard thanks to the Spiderman franchise.
Just in time to play in front of this week's The Last House on the Left (a film that I can already tell will require tons of explanatory defenses-of-enjoyment on my end), here's the first trailer for Drag Me to Hell. If I hadn't already read a slew of fawning response from horror talking-heads after a test screening last month, I'd be a bit concerned as a result of this trailer. Not a total failure, but hasn't done enough to send anticipation into overdrive. Faith is being comfortably had, though. Word is that the seance sequence (which we can see glimpses of here) rocks the shit. The lack of Jessica Lucas (who co-stars as the lead's, Allison Lohman, best friend) presence in this preview is disheartening (my fellow Cloverfield respect-ors know who I'm talking about), but the amount of demon arms promises a smorgasbord of creeps. And that's always celebratory.
Your EZ-Pass to Hell awaits:
Show Your Face: Charisma Carpenter
Show Your Face is a sporadically revisited column where I ineffectively petition for a once-relevant (or revelant-ish) actress to make a comeback of any size. A Mickey Rourke-like one of maximum impact, or a "Debbie Gibson doing Playboy mag" nostalgic run. Whichever. The only criteria being that I was at one time in indirect love with said actress. Shallow? Kind of. Wanna fight about it?
Hollywood casting news works in mysterious ways from time to time. Literally, just yesterday I was brainstorming on who the next forgotten sexpot-actress I could bring back to light in this new "Show Your Face" column could be, and all thought processes led to Charisma Carpenter. I'd almost started watching the latest Dollhouse episode from my DVR list, which would've given me some more face-time with Eliza Dushku, who was once on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then, I recalled how Dushku wasn't the only dark-haired Buffy looker that floated my boat back in the day, and a good minute's worth of recollection reintroduced me to Charisma Carpenter, and the proverbial "light bulb" began glowing above my scalp.
Show Your Face #2 had been found. Jackpot, baby.
So later in the night, I flip on the Chiller channel and come across some terrible straight-to-cable ghost story called Voodoo Moon, starring---that's right---Ms. Carpenter. The film was made only four years back, and Carpenter still looked as near-perfect as before, which laid to rest any cynical "She might not even look good anymore....I mean, she's 38 years old now, with kid....a lack of work could've led her to lose herself" musings. She's still hotter than a Megan Fox photoshoot in Hades.
After consulting her IMDB, it seems that she's actually worked steadily over the last few calendars, predominantly in television (most notably, roles on Veronica Mars and Charmed). All well and good for her bank account, sure, but she's yet to register a character as pop-culture-relevant as her Buffy (and its spinoff, Angel) incarnation "Cordelia," and Cordelia herself is far from a staple. The chick needs some heavy roles, and definitely deserves them. Not talking supporting slots alongside Meryl Streep, or even Hilary Swank, but something.
Enter that "something," and something Teflon in its chances of being memorable. Today, the same day I was ready to write up a Show Your Face about the woman, she has signed on to co-star in Sylvester Stallone's multiple mercenaries action epic The Expendables, which already has a who's-who of badass fellas cast: Mickey Rourke, Eric Roberts, Jason Statham, Jet Li, Dolph Lundgren, and a cameo from Arnie Schwarzenegger. Carpenter will play Statham's girlfriend, which sounds like a whatever role, but fuck it. Her longtime admirers, such as myself, will take what we can get here.
At the least, we should be treated to some new photo spreads the caliber of this classic (well, it should be deemed as such):
You'd have to be blind to not feel all hot and bothered right about now. Or have the absolute worst/most questionable taste in women.
Hollywood casting news works in mysterious ways from time to time. Literally, just yesterday I was brainstorming on who the next forgotten sexpot-actress I could bring back to light in this new "Show Your Face" column could be, and all thought processes led to Charisma Carpenter. I'd almost started watching the latest Dollhouse episode from my DVR list, which would've given me some more face-time with Eliza Dushku, who was once on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then, I recalled how Dushku wasn't the only dark-haired Buffy looker that floated my boat back in the day, and a good minute's worth of recollection reintroduced me to Charisma Carpenter, and the proverbial "light bulb" began glowing above my scalp.
Show Your Face #2 had been found. Jackpot, baby.
So later in the night, I flip on the Chiller channel and come across some terrible straight-to-cable ghost story called Voodoo Moon, starring---that's right---Ms. Carpenter. The film was made only four years back, and Carpenter still looked as near-perfect as before, which laid to rest any cynical "She might not even look good anymore....I mean, she's 38 years old now, with kid....a lack of work could've led her to lose herself" musings. She's still hotter than a Megan Fox photoshoot in Hades.
After consulting her IMDB, it seems that she's actually worked steadily over the last few calendars, predominantly in television (most notably, roles on Veronica Mars and Charmed). All well and good for her bank account, sure, but she's yet to register a character as pop-culture-relevant as her Buffy (and its spinoff, Angel) incarnation "Cordelia," and Cordelia herself is far from a staple. The chick needs some heavy roles, and definitely deserves them. Not talking supporting slots alongside Meryl Streep, or even Hilary Swank, but something.
Enter that "something," and something Teflon in its chances of being memorable. Today, the same day I was ready to write up a Show Your Face about the woman, she has signed on to co-star in Sylvester Stallone's multiple mercenaries action epic The Expendables, which already has a who's-who of badass fellas cast: Mickey Rourke, Eric Roberts, Jason Statham, Jet Li, Dolph Lundgren, and a cameo from Arnie Schwarzenegger. Carpenter will play Statham's girlfriend, which sounds like a whatever role, but fuck it. Her longtime admirers, such as myself, will take what we can get here.
At the least, we should be treated to some new photo spreads the caliber of this classic (well, it should be deemed as such):
You'd have to be blind to not feel all hot and bothered right about now. Or have the absolute worst/most questionable taste in women.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Last House on the Left = worthy of a future "saw it three times in theaters" tag
Those Platinum Dunes fuckers need to watch this and take copious notes, because this is how you remake a horror flick. Witless, lazy, botched re-tries like last month's Friday the 13th remind filmgoers just how soul-damaging a poorly-executed genre revisitation can be; but then a rare exception such as this new The Last House on the Left comes along and makes its predecessors seem like a film school reject. Well, the need for improvement is/was much simpler to meet here, since Craven's film is pretty much a piece of shit, save for a few great scenes and general ballsiness.
Leaps-and-bounds superior to Wes Craven's 1972 debut (which itself was a pseudo-remake of Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring, for all you film fun-fact lovers), Last House 2009 rolls along with uncompromising bleakness, all-around strong acting, a script that consistently goes "there" in ways that feel earned rather than indulgent, and a director (in this case, Greece's Dennis Iliadis) taking chances with arthouse inclinations and a showman's command of pacing for intensity's sake.
Even my bladder enjoyed this one. True story---I was miraculously able to withstand one of the most excruciating, leg-crossing, ready-to-pour-out urges to urinate imaginable thanks (or, no thanks?) to this flick's goodness. Hi, I'm the dumbass who gets a large Diet Coke and then proceeds to destroy it before the movie even starts. Unlike me, however, two senior citizens walked out during the film's tone-amplifying centerpiece. *Hint: begins with an R and rhymes with cape*
The biggest compliment that I can pay Iliadis' American debut, other than fending off my Diet-Coke-induced misery, is that it admirably improves on practically every lacking area of Craven's original while still tossing in numerous addition of its own. No idiotic Craven-sim is left unturned. Kick rocks, asinine cop subplot. Hello, overall tone of zero laughs and unflinching hardcore-realism. In the '72 take, Craven's tone was all over the place, bouncing erratically from goofy hick comedy to bumbling cop procedural to exploitative horror. Don't even get me started on the banjo-bent soundtrack. Here, though, a villain-establishing prelude puts one helluva dark ride on cruise control, for the better. And were those some of the same orchestral sounds heard in 28 Days Later? If so, how lazy, but well-placed.
When you ask any horror head about the original, you're bound to hear something to the effect of "That rape scene was nasty, as was that one chick's exposed entrails," a tough 10-minute stretch that's exceptional when put into its 1972 context. After seeing Iliadis pull the same section off in much more painful fashion with more simple implication, though, calling out the Craven version's faults is like hooking dead fish. The '72 film cared more about the villains' perspective than those of the two innocent girl-victims, giving the entire setpiece a filthy, uneasy sadism. Iliadis and screenwriters Carl Ellsworth and Adam Alleca flip the POV through the eyes of the teenage gals, mostly more-established "loving daughter" Mary (actress Sara Paxton), and it's all the more scarring for it. No longer are we watching sick fuckers get their rocks off for no good reason; now, we're helplessly witnessing a nightmare that neither side expected to be a part of. The defiling of Mary easily sets a new bar for sexualized violence in Hollywood, whether you deem that commendable or despicable. BTW, I couldn't take my eyes off the rape scene shamefully. More a product of captivating filmmaking than any personal deviancy, so breathe with ease.
Effective in equal measure is the choice to [SPOILER ALERTAGE] allow the daughter-victim to (barely) survive the raping/attempted murdering this time. Having the parents, Emma and John (played nicely by C-list vets Monica Potter and Tony Goldwyn), see their little girl clinging to life with a bullet hole near her shoulder and a crotch that screams "I was raped!" adds whole new levels of anger, fear, confusion, and bloodlust for revenge. Though, this film's final act is more about survival than vengeance, an aspect that elevates The Last House on the Left 2009 into a more dramatic plain than simply "horror." In horror films, murders and scenes of gore tend to come off as gratuitous, but here the bloody justice issued by the parents is urgent. Some "We better kill these sons of bitches with the quickness before they discover Mary in the living room" immediacy.
The way Iliadis stages the entire "parents turn the tables" portion results in some of the most seat's-edge viewing I've seen from an American-made horror film in a long ass time. No wonder that Iliadis is a foreigner. Namely the first evildoer's demise, that of Francis (played with charismatic coldness by Aaron Paul), the younger brother of the deviant-crew's leader, Krug (nailed with calculated menace by Garrett Dillahunt). The lead-up to Francis's comeuppance is patient, mining some nice tension from the question of whether he'll discover Mary recuperating a mere 30 feet away from him as he tries to score with the mother, cutie Monica Potter (can you blame Frank? Chick's a MILF). But when shit hits the ceiling and the husband/wife team bring Hell down on Frankie Boy, the intensity is pretty special, accelerated by a booming electronica score and rapid camera cuts to and from Frank's bloodied, agonizing face. And the payoff is a spade.
The Last House on the Left 2009 isn't perfect, though. There's only one real glaring problem with the film---it's utterly-pointless final scene. Everything up until the last minute remained in line with what came before, keeping the realistic approach to violence in check. [HUGE SPOILER ALERTAGE] For no logical reason other than to pander to audiences with one last "yell and applaud" moment, though, Iliadis and company (including Craven, one of this film's producers) tack on a death scene right out of some over-the-top exploitation film and nearly piss all of the good will they've earned for preceding 99% of film away. If you've seen the too-revealing trailer, then you're aware that a microwave is used as a murder weapon, which in itself is ridiculous. Yes, there's a brief scene early on that points out that the microwave is broken, but can this kitchen appliace really operate with the door open, malfunctioning or not? And how is that it takes me nearly four minutes to heat up a couple of tasty Lean Pockets yet it take the father hardly ten seconds to fry Krug's head until it exploded (with some pretty bitching gore effects, I should add)? If this were any other horror film, this microwave-meets-Scanners moment would rock excessive ass, but here it's blatantly unfitting. It takes a lot for me to not enjoy watching a noggin combust due to the same heat-power that warms up my leftovers.
One mishandled minute out of 90-or-so total is far from shabby, still, so ultimately The Last House on the Left's one boo-boo is easy to look beyond. Just way too much positive going on. Every actor on screen performs well. I must point out sexy Riki Lindhome, who plays Krug's psycho-bitch lover Sadie; Lindhome has officially become one of the most intriguingly-beautiful actresses in the game. I could look at her for hours on end and never lose the parallel feelings of attraction and fascination. An able actress, too. Iliadis isn't afraid to keep taking you to where most other filmmakers are too pussy to go, and his stylistic sensibilities upgrade the cinematography and framing decisions above standard films of this ilk. See, this is what happens when thoughtful filmmakers deliver the horror; take note, whoever directed that Prom Night remake. Oh, that's the same dude behind the upcoming The Stepfather remake, right? Yeah, that one is going to puke.
Would I recommend this film to casual movie heads? Yes, but hesitantly. And before turning my phone off to avoid any "You sick, sick man" calls, text messages, and/or voicemails. It's not an easy watch. Very, very bad things happen to both good and bad people, and even the bad people somehow conjur up droplets of sympathy as acted by the talent here. The Last House on the Left '09 isn't what most would peg a "great film," though I'm sure any cinematic-thinker can appreciate an aspect or three. The catch here is that this is a movie tailor-made for somebody like me, skillfully including all of the creative and visual ticks that I prefer. Recall, I'm the same fella who gleefully rewatches a woman's pregnant stomach get cut open with scissors when paying my Inside DVD mind.
Now, if being partial to death and depravity makes me "sketch," that's a whole other story. I've been called worse, anyway. "Meat," anybody from Paramus Catholic High School?
It's about time for a new slasher film that doesn't suck....could this be it?
What was the last "really good" new, original slasher film? Nope, Adam Green's Hatchet was not it (that one was just "good"). I'm talking excellent/makes me want to watch it over and over again/could be a franchise in the right studio's hands. The Midnight Meat Train is essentially a slasher, so that could be an answer, but I'm talking old school style.
Well I'm pondering, here's a trailer for this upcoming straight-to-DVD flick Laid to Rest (out April 21), which I've been reading tons of excitable press about on the various horror sites. Having now finally caught a real peak myself, I must say that this does look rather quality. The killer's metal-skeleton mask alone is tough. Like a better version of Mr. Voorhees in Jason X.
Laid to Rest even nailed the "must cast an exceptionally-gorgeous chick" aspect. Let's meet its star, Bobbie Sue Luther:
This one is on the right track, my friends. Hit the link below to watch the impressive trailer.
Bloody Disgusting's LAID TO REST trailer debut
Well I'm pondering, here's a trailer for this upcoming straight-to-DVD flick Laid to Rest (out April 21), which I've been reading tons of excitable press about on the various horror sites. Having now finally caught a real peak myself, I must say that this does look rather quality. The killer's metal-skeleton mask alone is tough. Like a better version of Mr. Voorhees in Jason X.
A terrifying story of a young girl who wakes up in a casket with a traumatic head injury and no memory of her identity. She quickly realizes she was abducted by a Deranged Serial Murderer and in an isolated rural town she must survive the night and outsmart the technologically inclined killer who is hellbent on finishing what he started.
Laid to Rest even nailed the "must cast an exceptionally-gorgeous chick" aspect. Let's meet its star, Bobbie Sue Luther:
This one is on the right track, my friends. Hit the link below to watch the impressive trailer.
Bloody Disgusting's LAID TO REST trailer debut
"The more Ram Jams, the better," I say.
As pointed out by a friend at work.....check out this DVD cover shot for The Wrestler. I can't get over how weird it is that they've chosen a point-of-view shot of a Ram-Jam-victim over the standard "Ram with his head down, fatigued" image. It's actually quite badass, but, still, odd.
Or maybe it's not a big deal at all, and I'm just strange. Jury is out and about.
Or maybe it's not a big deal at all, and I'm just strange. Jury is out and about.
I won't even bother with an explanation....
Mel B, a top five hottest chick in the game, hands down. Modeling some lingerie from her new Ultimo line. Making me a content person.
That is all.
Good googly moogly.
That is all.
Good googly moogly.
Finally, a new David Lynch film (sort of)
Is it wise or worrisome that I'm only excited to see this flick, Surveillance, simply because its director is Jennifer Lynch, the daughter of one David Lynch, a mind-fucking filmmaker who I bow to from time to time (pause?) and is listed as a producer here? If one of Stanley Kubrick's daughters put out a movie, I'd be similarly enthused, but there's no chance in holy hell that the finished product would even be able to sit next to one of her father's DVDs on a Best Buy shelf. The same point could be made about the Lynch dad/daughter connection. Jennifer could be an inept director for all I know, yet I'm still psyched for this Surveillance. Her only other film, Boxing Helena, was universally reviled by critics, though many have retracted the vehement bile in later years, but there's still causes for concern there. So this could be a case of unworthy nepotism, but I'm still willing to give it a go.
There was actually a chance for yours truly to check this one a couple months back at the New York Horror Film Fest, but I opted to sleep off a bitchin' hangover (the screening was on a Sunday afternoon). The flick won an award or two there, which bodes nicely. Now, this newly-issued trailer is gearing me up for Surveillance's limited release this summer, and it's confusing and invigorating enough to make this a must-pay-for:
There was actually a chance for yours truly to check this one a couple months back at the New York Horror Film Fest, but I opted to sleep off a bitchin' hangover (the screening was on a Sunday afternoon). The flick won an award or two there, which bodes nicely. Now, this newly-issued trailer is gearing me up for Surveillance's limited release this summer, and it's confusing and invigorating enough to make this a must-pay-for:
Monday, March 9, 2009
Let's call this Last House on the Left week, shall we?
The more I read via the 'Net and horror writers' Twitter updates, the more excited I'm getting about this Last House on the Left remake. Seeing it tomorrow night, wonderfully, and the anticipation is tipping the metaphorical scales. How can it go wrong?
Positive 1) The cast is full of not-so-big actors/actresses that I'm fond of, namely Riki Lindhome, a strangely-erotic-looking gal with an long yet striking face, model-like bod, and compelling disposition that I'm totally fascinated by, and Aaron Paul, an modern-day Alex Winter lookalike who is winning me over courtesy of AMC's pretty special show Breaking Bad.
Riki Lindhome, Garrett Dillahunt, Aaron Paul
Positive 2) The last time Wes Craven and company hired a talented new foreign director to update one of his early works, the result was Alexandre Aja's kick-ass The Hills Have Eyes; French guy Aja's High Tension (the flick that inspired Craven to hire him) wowed me in similar ways as Dennis Iliadis' Hardcore, so I'm optimistic that Iliadis has some tricks up his Greek sleeves with this Last House (Craven's 1972 debut).
One of the several money scenes in Alexandre Aja's High Tension
Positive 3) Word is, proven by the trailer, that this take is pure 100% bleakness, which is a great call, since the original Last House is irritatingly 75% goofy, lighthearted bore and 25% stellar visceral gutpunch.
As a sort of self-imposed homework assignment/study session, I'm about to start my Last House on the Left '72 DVD, to refresh the memory and draw a definitive "remake: superior or not?" conclusion come tomorrow night. I fear that many of you who check this humble little site out have never seen Wes Craven's original, though, or even heard of it until now. In light of such questionable ignorance, here's a couple of choice scenes, totally posted out of complete context. Just know that two girls are killed and raped in the woods by four sadistic criminals, who, stranded without a working car, then seek refuge in the home of the one now-mutilated girl's parents, and the parents, upon learning the truth, go apeshit.
If you plan on someday watching Craven's original in its entirety at some point, then don't check these. Otherwise, give them a gander. Consider Barone's World your one-stop educational shop on current remakes.
Now enjoy (or cringe) (or feel indifferent):
Positive 1) The cast is full of not-so-big actors/actresses that I'm fond of, namely Riki Lindhome, a strangely-erotic-looking gal with an long yet striking face, model-like bod, and compelling disposition that I'm totally fascinated by, and Aaron Paul, an modern-day Alex Winter lookalike who is winning me over courtesy of AMC's pretty special show Breaking Bad.
Riki Lindhome, Garrett Dillahunt, Aaron Paul
Positive 2) The last time Wes Craven and company hired a talented new foreign director to update one of his early works, the result was Alexandre Aja's kick-ass The Hills Have Eyes; French guy Aja's High Tension (the flick that inspired Craven to hire him) wowed me in similar ways as Dennis Iliadis' Hardcore, so I'm optimistic that Iliadis has some tricks up his Greek sleeves with this Last House (Craven's 1972 debut).
One of the several money scenes in Alexandre Aja's High Tension
Positive 3) Word is, proven by the trailer, that this take is pure 100% bleakness, which is a great call, since the original Last House is irritatingly 75% goofy, lighthearted bore and 25% stellar visceral gutpunch.
As a sort of self-imposed homework assignment/study session, I'm about to start my Last House on the Left '72 DVD, to refresh the memory and draw a definitive "remake: superior or not?" conclusion come tomorrow night. I fear that many of you who check this humble little site out have never seen Wes Craven's original, though, or even heard of it until now. In light of such questionable ignorance, here's a couple of choice scenes, totally posted out of complete context. Just know that two girls are killed and raped in the woods by four sadistic criminals, who, stranded without a working car, then seek refuge in the home of the one now-mutilated girl's parents, and the parents, upon learning the truth, go apeshit.
If you plan on someday watching Craven's original in its entirety at some point, then don't check these. Otherwise, give them a gander. Consider Barone's World your one-stop educational shop on current remakes.
Now enjoy (or cringe) (or feel indifferent):
Garbage Pail Kids, brought back into the forefront (momentarily)
Most New Jersey lifers associate the Jersey Shore with meathead/guido-filled clubs such as Temps or Merge; others dream of eating sloppy cheesesteaks while walking the boardwalks with family. Oh, please don't associate the Jersey Shore with that loser Tommy Cheeseballs from MTV's True Life special, out-of-staters. Yes, most of the dudes down there in the summer are as lame as your boy Tommy, but that doesn't mean its a bad place. He's about as piss-poor a tourism advocate as a Cancer-Grabbing Crane Machine in an arcade. I, on the other hand, distinctly recall the days of exiting my grandfather's oceanside trailer with my brother to hit the local convenience store, where packs of Garbage Pail Kids trading cards awaited us, in bulk. My parents, the supportive types that they've forever been, shelled over bills voluntarily, and without argument, even though they were fully aware that my bro and I were about to purchase little pieces of tree-carcus designed with pics of kids in nasty predicament, the likes of "Disgusting Justin" or "Intense Payne." Such juvenile absurdity made us happy, though, which was the important part.
Over some Indian cuisine last night amongst friends, the topic of Garbage Pail Kids came up. Courtesy of yours truly, naturally. Turned out that three out of our four-head dinner party had collected these as kids, a higher ratio than I was anticipating. Seeing a green light, I went on to tell the sadly-true story of one particular Garbage Pail Kid, the name of which escapes me at the moment, but whose image is still stained onto my brain. It was of this little kid being sucked into the drain at the foot of his bathtub, and it looked more horrifying than any scare film I've ever watched. I was somewhere in between eight and eleven years old at the time, so my pussy-footed ways were excusable, but fuck was I petrified to take a bath after first seeing that card. Feet never touched the bath drain ever since, even to this day. Any time my big-toe inches near the drain, visions of a vacuum-like force pulling my body in surface mentally, bringing to mind that scene from the Creepshow 2 (best of all within that overall-meh flick) installment "The Raft," when the jock-y dude Deke is pulled underneath the raft, his left leg violently snapping upward, by that oil-slick monster. Not a good mental look.
Less than 24 hours after our dinnertime chat, coincidentally, Topless Robot (the best nerd site on the 'Net) has posted a list of the 13 best Garbage Pail Kids of all time. Debatable and lacking that bathtub-set one, it's still great to see others paying as much close-eye to the wonderfully-sick children's card series. The least you could do is visit Topless Robot and see for yourselves, then:
Full List: Topless Robot's "13 Greatest Garbage Pail Kids"
Over some Indian cuisine last night amongst friends, the topic of Garbage Pail Kids came up. Courtesy of yours truly, naturally. Turned out that three out of our four-head dinner party had collected these as kids, a higher ratio than I was anticipating. Seeing a green light, I went on to tell the sadly-true story of one particular Garbage Pail Kid, the name of which escapes me at the moment, but whose image is still stained onto my brain. It was of this little kid being sucked into the drain at the foot of his bathtub, and it looked more horrifying than any scare film I've ever watched. I was somewhere in between eight and eleven years old at the time, so my pussy-footed ways were excusable, but fuck was I petrified to take a bath after first seeing that card. Feet never touched the bath drain ever since, even to this day. Any time my big-toe inches near the drain, visions of a vacuum-like force pulling my body in surface mentally, bringing to mind that scene from the Creepshow 2 (best of all within that overall-meh flick) installment "The Raft," when the jock-y dude Deke is pulled underneath the raft, his left leg violently snapping upward, by that oil-slick monster. Not a good mental look.
Less than 24 hours after our dinnertime chat, coincidentally, Topless Robot (the best nerd site on the 'Net) has posted a list of the 13 best Garbage Pail Kids of all time. Debatable and lacking that bathtub-set one, it's still great to see others paying as much close-eye to the wonderfully-sick children's card series. The least you could do is visit Topless Robot and see for yourselves, then:
Full List: Topless Robot's "13 Greatest Garbage Pail Kids"
Okay, so I lied about that "last solely-Watchmen-related post".....
.....but this one is just too good skip over.
The movie finally came out. Performed really well (if not as astronomically blockbuster-ish as many had hoped) at the box office this past weekend. Will most likely suffer from a large-sized dropoff this upcoming weekend. And has been discussed and dissected so much across the Internet that it'd be pointless for me to add anything more. But, alas, I've seen it twice now, and after seeing Watchmen that second time I realized that the film is even more flawed than I initially thought after the visual-fucking-but-it-felt-so-good I experienced. Still a really impressive, landmark flick, but it really does come off the hinges narratively once the action shifts to Antarctica, with too many connect-the-plot-dots left un-addressed and the emotional impact hitting too softly. [QUICK SPOILER WARNING] Then there's the poorly-delivered "whodunit" plotline, handled much stronger in the comic, while telegraphed within the first 20 minutes in the movie (check the first shot of Adrian Veidt giving the interview---it's clearly the same exact body type as Comedian's wiry assailant) [SPOILER DONE].
And, damn, the over-stylized fight scenes are so wrongly used. I've had to explain to five people already that one of the driving themes behind the comic is that these people, aside from John Osterman/Dr. Manhattan, are everyday Joes who take on crimefighting in costumes without possessing any superpowers or special abilities. In this flick, though, that's totally lost no-thanks to the slo-mo/sped-up fights, with bodies flying across sets, bones snapping, kung fu moves whipping with maximum velocity, and Oldboy sequences being not-so-inconspicuously swiped. Snyder's Watchmen feels too much like a superhero movie at times.
Aspects such as this opening title sequence, however, give the film such a massive presence that its difficult to vehemently complain, showing just how gifted Zack Snyder is visually/creatively. This is also one of the rare times during the film that the choice of using recognizable songs rather than originally-composed music actually works (Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'" here), opposed to the half-a-dozen times when the flashback tunes instantly yank you out of the flick (Jimi Hendrix's "All Along The Watchtower" especially). As far as jumpoff credit sequences go, though, this one is something else, and since its so special and has nicely landed online, I'd be foolish not to post.
Just watch soon, since I can imagine this will be taken down sooner than later.
***As expected, Warner Bros. has pulled the clip from every embeddable source. I'm sure it'll creep back online at some point, but here's a pic from it, for now:
LATEST UPDATE: The clip is alive and well (for now) over here, so give it a go ASAP: DaveandThomas.net
The movie finally came out. Performed really well (if not as astronomically blockbuster-ish as many had hoped) at the box office this past weekend. Will most likely suffer from a large-sized dropoff this upcoming weekend. And has been discussed and dissected so much across the Internet that it'd be pointless for me to add anything more. But, alas, I've seen it twice now, and after seeing Watchmen that second time I realized that the film is even more flawed than I initially thought after the visual-fucking-but-it-felt-so-good I experienced. Still a really impressive, landmark flick, but it really does come off the hinges narratively once the action shifts to Antarctica, with too many connect-the-plot-dots left un-addressed and the emotional impact hitting too softly. [QUICK SPOILER WARNING] Then there's the poorly-delivered "whodunit" plotline, handled much stronger in the comic, while telegraphed within the first 20 minutes in the movie (check the first shot of Adrian Veidt giving the interview---it's clearly the same exact body type as Comedian's wiry assailant) [SPOILER DONE].
And, damn, the over-stylized fight scenes are so wrongly used. I've had to explain to five people already that one of the driving themes behind the comic is that these people, aside from John Osterman/Dr. Manhattan, are everyday Joes who take on crimefighting in costumes without possessing any superpowers or special abilities. In this flick, though, that's totally lost no-thanks to the slo-mo/sped-up fights, with bodies flying across sets, bones snapping, kung fu moves whipping with maximum velocity, and Oldboy sequences being not-so-inconspicuously swiped. Snyder's Watchmen feels too much like a superhero movie at times.
Aspects such as this opening title sequence, however, give the film such a massive presence that its difficult to vehemently complain, showing just how gifted Zack Snyder is visually/creatively. This is also one of the rare times during the film that the choice of using recognizable songs rather than originally-composed music actually works (Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'" here), opposed to the half-a-dozen times when the flashback tunes instantly yank you out of the flick (Jimi Hendrix's "All Along The Watchtower" especially). As far as jumpoff credit sequences go, though, this one is something else, and since its so special and has nicely landed online, I'd be foolish not to post.
Just watch soon, since I can imagine this will be taken down sooner than later.
***As expected, Warner Bros. has pulled the clip from every embeddable source. I'm sure it'll creep back online at some point, but here's a pic from it, for now:
LATEST UPDATE: The clip is alive and well (for now) over here, so give it a go ASAP: DaveandThomas.net
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