The big signs plastered across the window of my local Taco Bell use the word “premium,” and silly me, this got my hopes up. “Premium Chicken Tortada”? I thought maybe this was the dawn of some new ingredient called “premium chicken.” It isn’t. It is, rather, Taco Bell’s generic “all-white-meat chicken,” which may be a technically true term, but in fact refers to orange-tinted compressed bits that are as fake in shape as any McNugget.
Mickey Rourke and drinking. They go together like…uhhh…Mickey Rourke and plastic surgery. Scalpels don’t make good promo items, though. They can make you bleed way too much. Which leaves drinking, something Mickey can now assist you with. No, not booze. SLURPEES.
I’ve been preemptively slamming the remake on Twitter, but now that I’ve seen it, I admit that I was wrong. The new DEATH AT A FUNERAL is every bit as profane as its predecessor, but it’s a hell of a lot funnier. Which is strange considering that the plot – briefly synopsized as: “at a funeral, everything that can go wrong does” — is almost beat-for-beat exactly the same (so yes, Danny Glover shits on Tracy Morgan’s hand, in an equally gross reprise of the original’s most offensive scene; thankfully, the loogie-spit/swallow bit is not repeated). The key here, I think, is that LaBute and Rock have cast actors who are experienced at comedy, while Oz did not.
The fact is that there are lots of film fans in OC, but few people care about giving them any kind of notice. The OC Register’s coverage is generally anemic, as is their coverage of everything else…and that other publication never ceased reminding me that they believed their readership was more interested in stories about elementary school boards than film-makers or festivals (in fairness, many of the readers who wrote letters to the editor reinforced that stereotype).
With the Double Down — two fried chicken filets, cheese, sauce, and bacon — KFC is veering dramatically into county fair territory. This may not be quite at the level of the Krispy Kreme Donut Chicken Sandwich, but it’s close.
“I always made a very sick joke to friends, if we were watching television, and we saw a child molester on television, I always said they should stitch his mouth to the ass of a very fat truck-driver, it would be a good punishment for him. Everybody was laughing, and thought that was so horrible, that I thought that idea’s great for a horror film. It all started with a very simple joke.”
In a supercolorful, slightly heightened reality, a handful of folks are crazy enough to try to become costumed heroes. Their plans meet with often disastrous outcomes for them, but hilariously entertaining results for those of us who appreciate profane and slightly perverse humor. Kick-Ass is being promoted like Watchmen, from the writer of Wanted, and while it has elements of both, it’s more purely entertaining than either.
When the folks in charge of this remake tell you they’re reclaiming Freddy as a more “serious” character, they’re fibbing a bit: Not just because Freddy was never as emasculated in the movies as they seem to think, but also because this new Freddy still has the wisecracks, including a couple directly lifted from the original and its sequels.
The difference here is that Freddy is now possibly a molester as well as a murderer (if indeed he was guilty of anything at all in life, which is another new potential wrinkle). This makes the whole thing more unsettling and disturbing, yes; but also makes it less easy to enjoy in quite the same escapist way as before.
Pardon my absence. Having an actual, personal life for once means that for the first time I have to figure out how to balance it with the professional, and that’s still a work in progress.
But here’s a bunch of my stuff for you to read:
All mayo needs in order to become something I like is a tiny tweak – add pickles to make tartar sauce, and spices to become chipotle sauce, add some onion flavor to get Ultimate Cheeseburger sauce, add I-know-not-what and you get Remoulade. But by itself, in a mini tidal wave upon the ocean of not-quite-soft mushrooms, it kicked my ass and my gag reflex. I needed the hot-sauce-spraying watch from UNDERCOVER BROTHER. But McDonald’s isn’t much for anything spicy. Damn white-people food.
You’d expect shirts that sport images of Obama, as well as campaign slogans like “Yes We Can.” What I’d never have expected is one that turns an off-the-cuff remark into a catchphrase, wrestling-style (think “Layeth the Smacketh Down” or “Austin 3:16″).
Original Recipe is a pliable term in the world of KFC. Sure, we all know what their Original Recipe fried chicken tastes like (“salty uber alles” is one way of putting it), but the chicken strips that are allegedly breaded with Original Recipe don’t taste the same to me at all. The fact that they no longer even do Extra Crispy strips is a gastronomic crime, but then, I’ve been on the Extra Crispy bandwagon since high school, possibly as a subtle form of rebellion against my father, who’s an Original guy through and through, when he’s not enjoying Hardee’s fried chicken instead.
When a character’s primary raison d’etre is as a sight gag, it makes a kind of sense to racially recast if doing so adds to the gag factor. I haven’t noticed any significant protests demanding that LaBute recast the Dinklage role with an actor of color. The same cannot be said for M. Night Shyamalan’s THE LAST AIRBENDER, in which characters who appeared to be Asian in the original cartoon will be portrayed in some cases by Caucasian actors. In an interview with the L.A. Times’ Geoff Boucher, Shyamalan defends his decision by saying that the characters on the cartoon are a deliberate mix of many different racial features, designed so that all kids can identify with them (he also refers it the cartoon as “anime,” when in fact that word by definition refers to Japanese cartoons, and AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER is American). Then he digs himself a little deeper by comparing racial concerns to the casting of Haley Joel Osment in THE SIXTH SENSE, in which the lead character was written as having black hair while Osment is blond.
Like its 1981 predecessor and other mythology-based monster epics from effects guru Ray Harryhausen (Jason and the Argonauts, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad), this new Clash is basically an excuse to string together a fun series of big beastie battles in ancient Greece. Where it falters a bit is the story: The screenwriters seem to think they can improve upon classic mythological tales, but they’re wrong.
Traditionally, when a sequel features the word “too” rather than “two” at the end, it means an all-new cast retelling essentially the same story, with Teen Wolf Too being the classic example. Perry’s telling more or less the same story here as well, but all the original characters return, having fallen back into old patterns after what appeared to be personal growth by the end of the last film.
We all love Tina Fey and Steve Carell, don’t we? So why doesn’t Hollywood love them, too? At least enough to give them a script worthy of their talents? This halfassed (but star-studded) farce from hacktacular director Shawn Levy, in which the comics play harried marrieds on a mistaken-identity run from the mob, is marginally better than the likes of Evan Almighty and Get Smart. But not by much.
Watching an earnest, maudlin cinematic sermon of this sort really helps you appreciate the fact that Tyler Perry throws some comic relief into his theatrical tracts. There are laughs to be had here, but of the unintentional kind, as when an alcoholic reaches for his fifth of Jack Daniel’s, and a song on the soundtrack loudly proclaims, “There’s no message in this bottle!”
I’ve always wanted to see this. And yet, I’m not sure if it can be done.
I had an interesting relationship with The A-Team as a kid. My mom sometimes decided to ban it, as it was too violent. Sometimes she would relent…and then she’d backslide. It was erratic.
Can anyone play B.A. but Mr. T? Hard to imagine, since the two are intertwined. Liam Neeson ceratinly cannot do an American accent, but the makeup sure makes him look the part.
Kevin Smith lit a fire under critics’ asses this weekend when he went on a Twitter tirade suggesting we should have to pay to see his movies. Because I’m not interested in combing through all his Twitter posts, I’ll let Anne Thompson (no relation, as far as I know) tell the tale:
“Cop Out, a buddy cop comedy starring Bruce Willis and Tracy Morgan, scored the best gross of Smith’s career ($42.8 million) and a miserable 19% Tomatoscore. So Smith (aka Silent Bob) is now striking back—at whom? The critics (many of whom are personally fond of the guy). But having tweeted his feelings, now Smith’s brought them down on his head. Worth it? You be the judge.”
She goes on to quote from his feed. Here’s the relevant part:
“Realized whole system’s upside down: so we let a bunch of people see it for free & they shit all over it? Meanwhile, people who’d REALLY like to see the flick for free are made to pay? Bullshit: from now on, any flick I’m ever involved with, I conduct critics screenings thusly: you wanna see it early to review it? Fine: pay like you would if you saw it next week. Like, why am I giving an arbitrary 500 people power over what I do at all, let alone for free? Next flick, I’d rather pick 500 randoms from Twitter feed & let THEM see it for free in advance, then post THEIR opinions, good AND bad. Same difference. Why’s their opinion more valid?”
Smith has already moved in this direction in the past, having had individual critics like Scott Foundas and David Poland kicked out of press screenings of his films because of some comment they made in the past that Smith took personally.
I wouldn’t normally feel the need to even say a damn thing, except that for the past five years or so, I’ve seen numerous articles and people shit on criticism in particular and me personally, which wouldn’t be so grating if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve actually been losing my livelihood at the same time. To sum up: we criticize Kevin, and he still gets to make movies with Bruce Willis. We (I) get criticized by the public and our higher-ups, and our income gets taken away.
Due to issues of diplomacy and maintaining some semblance of connections, I have remained silent more often than I’d like, but I’ll be damned if the director of DOGMA gets to talk smack unanswered. So Kevin, I know you are not likely reading this, but listen up a little.
First off: you do not get to be both the genial self-deprecating jolly fat man AND the thin-skinned, cut-a-wrestling-promo-on-the-critics whiny bitch. These are totally contrary personas. Don’t want people making fun of your weight? Fine, then stop referring to it YOURSELF. Quit making movies where other characters call you “fat fuck” and “tubby bitch.” Either try to lose the weight, or own your fatness. Right now, you’re like a matador complaining that the bull notices the red flag.
Secondly, this whole idea of making critics pay to see your movie – it’s not that radical. Really. Other filmmakers already do this on a regular basis. Want their names? Tyler Perry, Neveldine/Taylor, Kevin Greutert, Darren Lynn Bousman, Uwe Boll. Heard of them? I know you have. I’m actually a big fan of some of those names. Yet I don’t get to see their stuff early – I hit a Thursday midnight screening, stay up all night composing a review, email it to my editor, and then guess what? E! Online and/or Geekweek publishes it first thing Friday, just like every movie we actually did get to see in advance for free.
Meanwhile, a paper like the LA Weekly will run a blurb like “JAY AND SILENT BOB SUCK DICK was not screened in advance of our print deadline, but a review will appear here next week and at laweekly.com.” Instant stigma to Weekly readers, who are savvy enough to know that this means someone lacked confidence in the flick (but hey, you want to be ranked alongside Uwe Boll and Tyler Perry, that’s your call). Granted, you are suggesting we pay for advance screenings…hell, I’ve done that, too. Ever see where a movie will sometimes do a national sneak preview, a Saturday or two before it actually opens? Sometimes these are earlier than press screenings, and we will pay. It’s not unprecedented.
Other points you try to make, Kev:
“Next flick, I’d rather pick 500 randoms from Twitter feed & let THEM see it for free in advance”
Sure Kevin, those are called promo screenings. Go for it. Just please keep them separate from press screenings – little pisses me off more, professionally, than when I find out a screening I’m going to is a radio station promo with all kinds of yelling and T-shirt giveaways and bad stand-up and stupid contests.
“Why’s their opinion more valid?”
Our opinions aren’t more VALID…they just tend to be more articulate and readable, which is what we’re hired for. Why are you more valid a director for a studio movie than me? I went to film school. But guess what, you’ve proven yourself a bit along the way. So have I, as a writer. I’m trying to do so as an actor as well, but would never suggest I deserve automatic good reviews for it.
“Like, why am I giving an arbitrary 500 people power over what I do at all?”
Uhhhh…what POWER do we have, exactly? Even the overwhelmingly negative reviews for COP OUT didn’t stop it from being your highest grosser EVER. Meanwhile, most of us critics struggle to pay the bills. Boo-hoo, whiny boy. Oh, and where does that 500 number come from? Last time I checked, the actual number of employed critics in the U.S. was maybe one-tenth of that.
Take a deep breath, Kevin, and take in a few things: You get to make movies for a living. By your own account, your wife is a fantastic lay. You have (in)action figures of yourself. To supplement your income, you can just show up and talk about whatever comes into your head for an hour or so, and people pay money to watch.
Why the FUCK do you care what we say? Let your studio publicists do their job.
I never really “review” movies that I have significant roles in – it’s too hard to distance myself. So let’s not call this a review, exactly; but I did watch the director’s cut last night in an all-but finished form (the dialogue was slightly off-sync or unmixed in a couple scenes). And boy, do I wish this was the one we could have shown the public first.
I’m not blind to the flaws of the original film. I love it, and will always love it, but I get why others don’t. Tonally it was an odd mix of director and script: the screenplay was balls-out brutality written as a giant F.U. to critics who were whining about movies like HOSTEL, while Zach, for as long as I’ve known him (i.e. since film school) has made meditative dreamscapes, usually featuring some kind of animation at some stage. I used to kid him about how he was going to find a way to get animation into WICKED LAKE. Lo and behold, in the director’s cut, he has. I won’t spoil how, but it absolutely works.
Most substantially, the director’s cut, which is entitled WICKED, WICKED LAKE, features a complete visual and aural overhaul…
TNA has taken a long time to get it together as regards their merchandise. The key to a hot-selling wrestling shirt is that it has to work even for someone who has no clue about wrestling. Where TNA has erred in the past is putting slogans on the back of the shirt, and the wrestler’s name on the front. For example, I could probably sell a shirt sporting the slogan “Big Sexy” to any number of large guys, but if that’s only written on the back, while the front just says “Kevin Nash,” I’m not gonna have much luck except with Kevin Nash fans.
CHLOE is based on the French film NATHALIE… (yes, the ellipses are part of the title), which, with its more cerebral approach to kinkiness, would seem more in line with what I’d expect from Canadian-raised director Atom Egoyan, who can often be as chilly and detached as his home country. Here, however, he’s gone balls-out Hollywood style in his approach to the material, adding more onscreen sex and a FATAL ATTRACTION element entirely absent from the source.
@LexG_III Poland won't be coming. May be a blogger or two, but mostly low-budget filmmakers and freelance jounros. 4 hours ago
I hate when I lack the context for Twitter feuds. So somebody please link me to an article explaining the Drew McWeeny/Alex Billington deal 4 hours ago
@LexG_III You know my email...u wanna come to party on Sunday, hit me up. 5 hours ago
