7.31.2007

Found some old photos

On the last Friday of June Australia celebrates Red Nose Day.

How did you celebrate?

Bottoms up!!

Drinky...

Drinky...

Drinky...

It didn't take long to get to this stage.

Neil eventually helped me to my feet.

And I got back on track.

I tried to make it out to my car, but passed out on the lawn.

The ants were biting pretty bad, so I tried to get back inside. I didn't get too far.

So I decided to crash on the picnic table.

Much to Neil's disproval.

What a prude...


::Heir to the Throne::

7.25.2007

You knew I had to write about it eventually...

I must confess. There's a terrible weight on my conscience that I can't shake. I am overwhelmed by guilt for what I have just done.

By the sound of it, you could probably assume I committed adultery or homicide, but I haven't. Though had I, I'm sure the experience would have been far more pleasurable and exciting than watching the new Transformers flick... which is exactly what I did last night.

There is no exact word to describe just how horrible this film is. I can't call it a B-movie, because it had the annual revenue of a small country pumped into it. I can't use my wealth of thesaurus words relating to "crappy" to describe this film, because that will no doubtably bring to mind fond memories of laughably rank or outrageous films, made popular by grindhouses, Mystery Science Theater 3000, or other such sources.

No, no, no - no one word will do it. There is, however, a two-word combination that will sum up Transformers quite well: "Michael Bay".

Okay, so that may be a name, but it should be recognized historically as a phrase synonymous with "God awful 'films' that earn more money that they should ever deserve". Perhaps if he stopped at The Rock, he would be okay in my book, but the bugger was just plague out of control, wasn't he? Let us take a look at what his prolonged life has given us:
Armageddon (originally titled: "Another Painfully Cliche Disaster Movie")
Pearl Harbor (Ben Afflect still can't act)
The Island (which, though they deny it, is a direct remake of "parts, the clonus horror" (that's right - no caps) which was featured on MST3K)
Transformers (I'll get to this shortly)

And let me not forget to mention the horrible years in between these duds in which we waited in suspense of what crap Mr. Bay would be flinging at us next. In some ways, Michael Bay is a disaster movie.

That said, I have no idea where to start in tearing apart Transformers, much like how I wish Megatron would have done to each and every human actor in this 2 hour bore-fest (and right afterwards if he could tear up every remaining copy of the script, that'd be great, too). Ideally, you and I would break into every movie retailer, steal every copy of the just-released Transformers DVD, burn all but one, then watch that one, pausing along to way for me to point out what is wrong with every scene. Then after we'd finish with that copy, we'd drive over to Michael Bay's and force him to eat it. My only hope is that it is released as one of those special edition 5-disc bundles, so we can provide Bay with a lovely 3-course meal, with extra servings of dessert.

To start let's talk about the robots, hm? Good luck trying to tell any of them apart. Unless we're talking about Optimus Prime or Bumblebee, the Autobots and Decepticons pretty much blend into the next dark grey hunk of random metallic junk. It doesn't help that each robot is so frikin' complex you can barely tell just what the hell you're looking at. Seriously, I couldn't tell their heads apart from their asses (or their Autobutts, if you prefer). And with the cinematographer's apparent love for telephoto lenses, good luck trying to figure out just what the hell you're looking at. Even a non-film major friend of mine turned to me and asked: "wouldn't it make more sense if this was a wide angle shot?" Yes, yes it would. That just shows you that no matter how big your budget, it doesn't save you from being talentless.

For a greater part of the film we follow around a very tiny Decepticon, who is an attempted blend of comedy, ickiness, exaggerated performance, and evil. The result, of course, is pure vomit. And while that sounds really awful to put up with in a two hour movie, with its design being just too complex, it moves too fast, too over-the-top, and too unmotivated for you to even realize what you're watching. Its death scene will leave you scratching your head, wondering: "now how the hell did that just happen?!" (And you will have shouted that phrase many, many times already at that point in the movie.)

And, one more note on the robots: the inclusion of moving mouths (and teeth?) was downright off-putting. Good or bad, it didn't matter, every robot looked rather hideous. This, combined with the previous mention of their unnecessarily complex design (or ILM saying: "hey! look what we can do!"), is proof this film suffers from poor artistic design. So little actually reads (animation language for "I don't know what the hell I'm looking at") it might actually dawn upon viewers that they paid $7-10 to be confused for two hours. Listen, if I want to be utterly confused, all I have to do is contemplate why God would create a world in which Michael Bay is allowed to make crappy movies. And I do that anyway! Yet it costs nothing, and it still causes me a whole lot less grief than actually watching his movies.

Speaking of grief, let me talk a little about the human actors. Okay, okay - they're mostly 2-D, nondescript, and overwhelmingly boring - I wouldn't expect anything less from a summer blockbuster. (Note that even working with stereotypes can aid a film. It's too bad no one is smart enough to use it to make a good film.) What Michael Bay succeeds in, first and foremost, is creating intolerably annoying characters.

Forgive me - I believe "annoying" is not the correct term; I think they call it "quirky" nowadays. Well, whatever they are, you'll want to jam a novelty-sized fork down their esophaguses. And whether they're characters you're forced to watch the entire film or 5-second-screen-time characters who react "amusingly" to the chaos at hand (Mr. Bay's wonderful signature), you'll hate them all equally. So many characters are introduced for the hell of it that by the end of the film they've got too many characters than they know what to do with!
Well, those cra[p]fty scriptwriters get around wrapping up story-lines by, literally, ignoring them, hoping the audiences will be so fed up with this piece of trash movie that one more glaring error in the story won't bother them. And, in some ways, they were correct. There were four characters - the Secretary of Defense, the head of "Sector 7" (whose motivations are just so questionable you will be screaming, if not just confused to silence), an inexplicably young and uber-professional hacker (supposedly the comic relief, but is really just a fatty), and some Australian coder (whose accent, if not fake, was certainly death warrant worthy) - who got no conclusion. It didn't matter, though, because I hated them so, so much that by not returning to them I was quite relieved. I just have to conclude myself that those characters are still in the underground bunker where we last saw them doing... doing something, I don't know. This movie doesn't make a lick of sense.

Even in the aftermath of the Transformer battle that left some random city in pieces, the holes and craters impressed into the streets do not amount to the number of holes in the plot. The scriptwriters, unaware there a method of undoing words (called the "delete key"), just kept on writing. Entire scenes, characters, story-lines, dialogue amount to literally nothing.
For example, there is a scene in which some military personnel discover that even severed limbs from the robots still function. Dear Lord! How does this serve the plot in any way? It doesn't - you're just wasting my time. (Interesting to note that the severed limb comes from the first Decepticon we are introduced to - a Decepticon that looks like a scorpion, but we all recognize it as a plot hole, because, even undefeated, we never see it again, not even when Megatron calls the Decepticons to battle. Seriously, these guys are some real lazy hacks.)
For further example, there's a scene where our geeky hero, Sam, is attempting to run from the Decepticons while he carries some cube that the Decepticons really want... a cube that's supposed to create life or something (who the hell really knows?). Something happens (I'm bored to semiconsciousness at this point) and somehow the cube brings a Mountain Dew vending machine, Escalade, and XBOX 360* to life. They go ballistic, firing missiles and shooting at wild, risking human lives. But that's it... the Transformers keep battling to the very end, and even after that the scriptwriters don't even both going back to the massacre still in progress on the streets. So just what was the point of all that, you ask? Simply this: product placement. Mountain Dew, Escalade, XBOX. (Imagine how you'd feel after watching a two hour commercial, and then you have an idea how I feel.)

*Isn't it ridiculous enough that in the midst of this huge robot battle there are still people idly walking around, shopping obliviously? Honestly, even though I'm a film student, I can suspend my disbelief... but Sunday driving and the urge to play video games in the middle of a giant, deathly robot battle? C'mon! Even 2-dimensional characters run for their lives when threatened!

So, let me suspend my disbelief again: maybe you didn't watch Transgenders for story, character, plot, etc. Let's just suppose, you watched it for great action sequences.. you know, hypothetically, of course. Still, if anyone could ever be so shallow, the action sequences were forgettable. Even if you could even tell what was going on with the unnecessary close-ups, they were pretty weak. You will not find huge robots beating the crap out of each other, but you will see hunks of metal rolling around and a lot of shooting. I can see bullets in any film - I want to see metallic monsters fisty-cuffing, dammit!

Even those brief battles are overshadowed by... the human characters? Yeah, somehow they're more important than the name of frikin' title! It might have just changed its name to "Humans (and, Well, Maybe Some Robots, Too, We Don't Know Yet)". The supposed most climatic battle of the film (between Megatron and Optimus) gets second billing to the humans milling about. While they're fighting, the film cuts away to something far less important and engaging. By the time it cuts back to the battle, they're on their backs and supposedly exhausted... I think they're exhausted - I don't #$@%ing know! All I know is this film is too cheap, too dull, and too $#%^ing trite to deliver anything worthwhile! (And just wait till you see how Megatron is defeated. It's so lame, you'd swear they made it up right on the spot, if it wasn't for the massive amounts of time needed to render all the CGI.)

There may be the few of you who like to use the argument: it's a summer movie, it doesn't have to be smart. Don't ever say that - it's like an attempt to defend your own stupidity. (Likewise, saying "there are no more creative ideas" is like saying "I'm dull, and not creative, so I use this phrase to make myself feel better".) Guess what - there can be summer movies that serve mindless entertainment (guns, explosions, fights) while stimulating us intellectually. Here are some examples: The Matrix, True Lies, Minority Report, 28 Days Later, Lord of the Rings, Raiders of the Lost Arc (and the Last Crusade, for that matter), Gladiator, Casino Royale, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Die Hard... hell, I'll even toss on I, Robot, and Pirates of the Caribbean (the first) on.
These films have managed to give us action, gore, special effects, and everything we associate with Hollywood whorism AND STILL are able to give us something that doesn't treat us like complete idiots. And seriously, even I can appreciate a film with bare story and character if there's well choreographed, imaginative fight scenes. But in addition to being poorly written, directed, acted, and conceived, Transformers can't even give us good "dumb" entertainment.

And despite how long this ranted review is, it is just the tip of the iceberg, as they say. Getting into the details of the movie only uncovers more and more problems, shining a great bright light onto just how poor and pathetic these moviemakers are. If the advertisements ever claimed that you'd be talking about this film for days following, it's true. I guarantee you'll be feebly attempting to make sense of what you have just suffered through. Ultimately, you will all come to the conclusion just how the movie has no excuses and how regrettably unenjoyable it was.

7.23.2007

done!

As of 4:50 AM today I am officially finished with the Harry Potter saga.

Now commence life.

7.21.2007

HP7

I've just started reading the final Harry Potter novel. In other words, I have disappeared in my room cutting off all contact for however many days it takes me to read it and sulk over its ending.

As always, things to talk about, but at this current moment none of it is as important as Harry Potter.

.Neil.

7.20.2007

Big Brother is watching...

E! Entertainment News, not your boring life, Sir Big Bore Mckinneyboringson III.

Breaking news! Homeland Security was able to stop an attempted suicide bombing plot by screening instant message conversations coming in and out of the country! Through special connections, I was able to get ahold of the alleged conversation:




...but seriously, wouldn't that be hilarious?

7.18.2007

Have you met the Spud Brothers?

No?



It's the Spuuuuud Brothers!
Spuuuuuuuud Brotherssss!
Brothers in blood
brothers in petty crime!
It's the Spuuuuud Brothers, yeah!

They're kinda like the Hardy Boys, but royally stupid and they commit petty crimes as opposed to solving mysteries. I had half considered making my thesis on these guys in a Saturday morning cartoon style (commercials and accidentally being recorded over by basketball). It's still a possibility. For all I know my advisor will tell me to drop my current idea altogether when I return to school.

The Spud Bros. find themselves in an abandoned building, where they do the natural thing and dare eachother to spit and throw their undies off the balcony. Meanwhile, a disgruntled construction worker (looking like Kirk Douglas) happens to be sitting on the wrong street corner and is spitted and undie-ed. Long story short, he grabs a hold of them and the film turns into a torture flick. Of course, the construction worker takes advice from a sock puppet, who only he perceives as real. And when he breaks out the vegetable peeler... well, it's too gruesome to discuss.

I should probably describe how I ran across these fellows. Well, one night a few months back I was preparing to make some latkes (potato pancakes) for company. I found an old bag o' potates deep in the pantry and decided to finish 'em off. So I stick my hand in there, and when I feel some disturbingly prickley I recoil in horror (and probably scream, I can't remember). What I thought was a hungry rat turned out to be... the Spud Brothers! They've been part of the family ever since.

Anyway, that's it for now...
Spppuuuuuuuuud Brothers!

.Neil.

7.16.2007

Yeeeech!



Let us now observe a spider up close:



It's like staring into the face of death, isn't it? And not the sort of ease-off-to-sleep death, or even the quick-hammer-over-the-head death, either. It's more like the your-death-will-be-very-long-and-very-agonizing- as-you-wait-for-my-children-to-hatch-under- your-skin-then-eat-their-way-out sort of death. I cannot support that type of death and I hope that no one I vote for will ever support that type of death, either. (Watch out for this hot issue in the coming presidential election!)

Clearly God dropped the ball on this one. It's like He left the spider design to an overambitious intern. The intern brainstorms: "You know what would be even cooler than four legs? Eight legs, man! And a freakton of eyes, too.. in all sorts of weird places! Oh! and check out his attack pose! Pretty cool, huh?" I'm sure if God caught this one before it got off the assembly line, he would have given strict orders to limit production of these things to just over a thousand, or however many it would take to fill the intern's bedroom. Or, the least He could have done would be to put a little brown sack over every spider's face and given them little DnD boards to play with in their basements, so they never infringe upon the beauty of this world.

And, man! they're just not cool! I could get over the ugly factor if they weren't so freakin' uptight. Like, I'd like to go up to one and offer him a pound (but with a finger tip instead of knuckles), 'cause it looks like he's got the sort of legs that would lend themselves great for a pound. Instead, it goes into that hideous attack pose and I get the jibblies.

Daddy-long-legs are cool. Moths are cool. Same goes for beetles. Spiders, though? Absolute freaks of nature.

--Heir to the Throne--

7.14.2007

I love this...

You know, I'm not really a fan of the Dick Tracy comic strip. I can't help but thinking how far more entertained I would be if they just filled that space with Don Knotts performing various expressions. Honestly, how much story can occur in three panels? I gotta wait an entire day just for Dick to pull into his drive way. And if he's parallel parking? Forget it! That's, like, a week-long epic.

So, combine this with some pretty stiff and dated artwork, and you've got a pretty dull comic. And I'm not the only one who thinks so - apparently Dick Locher, who makes the strip, agrees! Check out today's comic:



I mean, it's like he's just given up with the Dick Tracy storyline altogether and has instead decided to just start killing off random people in a variety of different ways. Now THAT'S entertainment. I honestly could get used to this.

Looks like Mr. Tracy nearly avoids certain doom, yet again.. and it looks like I have to put this back on the shelf...

7.08.2007

State Slogans

Delaware officials recently came to the conclusion that their lack of tourism is due mostly to the fact that Delaware is a pretty sucky state.

Good news to residents of Delaware and fellow sucky states: no matter how sucky your state is, there is always a chance for good tourism. It's all in marketing. Unfortunately, the best slogan the Delaware PR boys could come up with was: "Delaware: It's Good Being First [Unless We're Talking About Testing The Water To See If It's Inhabited By Pirannas Or Not]."

News flash: as any kindergardener can tell you, first is the worst, and second is the best. Pennsylvania with its rollicking mountains and its difficult to spell name (probably inspired by the Quakers' ancestry going back to Count Dracula) has got you beat. Third, New Jersey, is the one with the hairy chest, but we are all aware of how unkempt Jersey is. (Obligatory New Jersey smells joke.)

If you're going to boast, boast well. And never tell anyone outright why they should visit - that just sounds overly desperate. Arrogance is a key skill. Plus, glossing over the truth doesn't hurt.


Delaware: We're Too Good For You
Delaware: Our Girls Are Pretty Trashy
Delaware: Like One Big Radioactive Freak Show
Delaware: The Deliverance Experience
Delaware: You'll Never Find Our Leprechaun Gold
Delaware: Actual Birthplace Of Jesus Christ
Delaware: Grave Robbing Frowned Upon But Still Accepted
Delaware: Children Still Accepted As Legal Tender
Delaware: Prostitutes Available Upon Request
Delaware: We Caught, Prosecuted, and Executed Waldo
Delaware: Way of the Blade
Delaware: Our Marshes Can Hide All Your Incriminating Past
Or Delaware: A Good Place To Hide Bodies, Just Be Sure To Pick Up A Souvenir On Your Way Out
Delaware: Al-Qaeda Doesn't Care Enough About Us To Hate Us
Delaware: No High School Educated Brat Will Ever Find Us On A Map
Delaware 2: Badass Parade
Delaware: We'd Toll, But We Don't Want Your Dirty Money
Delaware: Future Plans To Build A Laser To Blow Up The Moon
Delaware: Home Of The Mole People
Delaware: Intergalactic Ninja Training Center
Delaware: Our Roads Are Built With The Bones Of Our Enemies


... What was my point again?

7.06.2007

Short one this time

I'm confused.

Even though I'm convinced that I'm actually a 58-year old Chinese Woman, people keep trying to tell me I'm not. However, they also tell me that I am what I eat, so you can see where the confusion comes in.

Comedy Law

Throw a brick out a window.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Throw a lamp out a window.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Misfire a gun in a random direction.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Misfire an arrow in a random direction.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Throw a crumpled kleenex out the window... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Quickly throw an incriminating object over the shoulder.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Drop a pin down a well... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Throw a boot into the hall.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Throw Arch Hall, Jr. out a window.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Drop a bowling ball down a flight of stairs.... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.
Drive a '73 Cadillac off the canyon gorge... stock cat screech SFX offscreen.

I think it's safe to say this joke has moved beyond tired cliche into the realm of comedy law. If ever there was to be a scene in any comedy film in which some object is thrown off screen without the accompaniment of the dutiful stock cat screech SFX, the cinematic quality of the film would just drop. It'd be like not lighting a scene. Or not bothering to load the film into the camera before shooting. Or just neglecting to use periods to end sentences [STOP] *

*This joke would have worked better if it would allow me to insert mulitple spaces as to imply the sentence can't end. It was pretty funny, actually.... really.

However, cinema law is meant to be broken. This is how film geniuses are created - by shaking foundations. The first director to say: "No, we're not going to start the scene with an establish shot, we're starting close up, man, and I mean real close up! I want to fall in the actor's pores, man, and just stay there for the entire thing!" was probably not a film genius. The one who decided to start on a close up, move to a medium, then close on a wide shot probably got some recognition, though.

And I am a genius director.. without a camera. So I will demonstrate with the power of words (in semi-script format):

INT. BERNARD'S APT - NIGHT

GRETA, 26, unnecessarily hot but innocent, strolls about the room.

GRETA: Nice place you got.

BERNARD, 28, ridiculously not good enough for her, spots an erotic brick on his coffee table. He grabs it quickly and unsuccessfully discretely.

GRETA: What's that potentially embarrassing object you may or may not be holding?

BERNARD: Oh, um...

Bernard tosses the erotic brick over his shoulder. It flies out the window.
OFFSCREEN:
Ding! ding! (sounds of a bike bell) SMACK! "AH! Sonofa... whooooa!" Swerving, rattling, and the sound of a bike smashing a windshield. Car alarm goes off.
"Hey, man! What the f--- did you do to my wheels?!"
"It-it was an accident, I swear! An erotic brick came outta nowhe-"
"Like sh-- it did, you mutha f---er!"
"No - wait! Don't!"
BLAM! BLAM BLAM!
"Ohhh sh--, man! You killed him! oh f---, oh f---, oh f---!"
"Shut the f--- up, man! The mutha f---er had it comin'!"
"S---!... The cops are gonna find out, man - f---!"
"HEY! I said shut the f---"
Sounds of a police siren. Scrambling about.
[On loudspeaker]: "Put down your weapons! Come out with your hands up!"
"Oh, man, I told you, man!"
"Shut the f--- up and get the car started... TAKE THIS YOU MUTHA F---ERS!"
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
"Suspect has become hostile - return fire!"
Lots of guns firing incessantly.
"Hurry the f--- up and get the car started!"
"The keys the keys! I don't know which ones, man!"
[On Loudspeaker:] "Cease fire! Cease fire! M'am, get down! Get out of the line of fire!"
Sounds of a panicking old lady. BLAM! BLAM!
[On Loudspeaker:] "M'am! Get the hell outta there!"
BLAM BLAM BLAM! Stock old lady screech.
[On Loudspeaker:] "F---! Get an ambulance!"
Gun fire resumes from both sides. Sound of car starting.
"I got it! I got it!"
"Good - now get us the hell outta here!!"
vvvVVVVRROOM! Car tire squeals. Smmmash! Glass breaking. "Watch out!" "Take cover!" Car drives again. Clang! ffffFFFFFRRROOOOOOSSSSHHHHH! Sound of a fire hydrant breaking off and water shooting out of the ground.
"What the F---, man?!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"MAN, WHAT THE -"
BLAM!
" - AARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!"
"Oh God! oh God! oh God! Blood!"
Car reverses. Sound of crash and wood fracturing. Wood groaning, then telephone pole collapsing. Smmmmasssh! Sounds of electricity. Sounds of jittering, stuttering screaming. Then eerie silence.

BERNARD: Nothing! Nothing at all!

FADE OUT.


You know, if someone steals this and uses before I can, I may just have to bust a cap in someone's ass.
-HEIR TO THE THRONE-

7.05.2007

preview rambling

I just recently saw Ratatouille in theaters (as everyone should be doing!), and had the exquisite pleasure of sitting through some previews. By "exquisite pleasure" I, of course, I mean "had my eyes whisked by a thousand needles". I don't particularly remember the specific order, so, orderless, here the films that will collectively usher the downfall of cinema:

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is a film about Dustin Hoffman (Mr. Magrumium) and his most fantastical toy store. Or so the trailer is trying to convince me. The only fantastical thing I can see so far is how any of these characters are able to live when the cinematographer keeps cutting the actors' foreheads off. Maybe that's what it'll take for anyone to enjoy this film - having their brains removed by a careless cameraman. And maybe that's what it took to get Dustin Hoffman and Jason Bateman (the stiff-upper-lip-doesn't-believe-in-magic-prick-accountant) to star in this magical mystery [trite] store story.

(As for Natalie Portman? She's been dredging the bottom of my hate-phrases barrel ever since starring in Star Wars. She just opened herself to every crappy film possibility after that, and, in all fairness, her career should be wrecked. If Lucas' Howard the Duck should ruin Lea Thompson (don't worry, I still love you), Portman should receive no forgiveness for starring in not just one but THREE George Lucas films.)

Maybe I'm judging too soon; I'll be the first to say it. Previews are always nearly god awful (unless there's a genuine creative force behind making them), and there is still chance the film could be okay, what with being written and directed by Zach Helm, who was behind Stranger Than Fiction. I'm thinking maybe Jason Bateman is actually the evil Nazi, Hasenpfeffer, who returned to America to retrieve some missing diamonds that Mr. Magnesium may or may not know the whereabouts to. The torture scene involving Hungry, Hungry Hippos and a Lite Brite will leave audiences disturbed and frightened to the end of their wits.

"Is it safe?" Not this film, no, probably not.


Sequels are mad scary. I'm not talking about specifics films, I'm talking about the very concept of the sequel. There are a lot of bad movies lurking out there, and any of them - and I mean ANY - could easily resurface in movie theaters, uglier and more frightening than ever. You know the scenario: just when the heroes think they killed the monster, it comes back.

That said, would you believe they're making a follow up to Daddy Day Care? Yeah, now it's a Daddy Day Camp, joining the great list of kid camp movies: Meatballs, Bushwacked, Camp Nowhere, and The Blair Witch Project (if only). You know, never mind they couldn't get the original actors to reportray their roles - apparently Eddie Murphy and Jeff Garlin have some sense (um, never mind Pluto Nash, of course). So the producers got another black and white duo to fill their shoes - Jeff Garlin and... Cuba Gooding Jr.? I'm trying to figure out who is more depressed: me seeing Cuba in another god-awful film, or Cuba, himself, because something must be leading him to sell his soul time and time again. Cuba, just because the film is labeled as a "comedy", that is no guarantee it'll make you any happier.

So, all the kids have grown up since the last film, but no worries, all kids are pretty much the same. Let's see who we've got on the range...
So, in this gang of merry misfit youths, we've got the sick, queasy, pale, 4-eyed, future-of-DnD boy. His thing? He vomits a lot, AND on the camp counselors (brilliant!). Then we have the overly intellectual, lawyer-type girl who won't shut her yapper. That's funny, I guess, but not nearly as funny as a swift backhand. And finally, there's "Mullet"... the kid with the mullet. He pretends to be really cool and suave, but we all know he's secretly gay. This film is more than a comedy, it's an emotional journey, dammit.
Then there are some other underdeveloped kids. They'll blend nicely in the background, no one will notice them.

I've seen this trailer a million times already. It's a story zany antics, getting along, family, and bla bla bla. Things crash, things explode, kids throw around edgy catch phrases, adults look shocked, and oh! punch in the crotch! Take that authority figure!
That's just wrong, people. Crotch hits are never funny because they're always in the wrong bad films. I would have loved to have seen Mr. Magromitt served a firm right jab in his own magical trunk. Now THAT would have been funny! (Excuse me while I laugh uncontrollably at the phrase "magical trunk" as a substitute for...)

Now I already know I'm not wrong on this film and how it'll reek. That doesn't mean I can't dream (and dream big). I have lovely visions of crazed individuals with chainsaws knocking off the kids one by one. Or maybe they camp right on an ancient Indian burial ground and the road kill squirrel the kids bury comes back to life and kills off the children one by one. ... Maybe I just want lots of death. Aren't these films supposed to make me feel good?

The only condolence I can take is that these people have to watch their own movie during the premiere. I hope the experience is excruciating.. and I hope their popcorn is stale.


Another frightening concept is the franchise-resurrected-from-the-dead turned into a movie. It's like having a very horny and single grandfather. He's so desperate for any sort of loving, he'll approach anyone and do anything. That's all fine and good, as long as he's minding his own business, but then Bam! you bump into him at a bar doing something downright nefarious with the fattest chick in the joint. Right there your childhood is ruined, you become disillusioned, and realized that maybe you shouldn't have donated your rare blood type after he had that nasty slip in the tub that fractured his skull. Maybe that was his time to go.

Underdog, however, is like the grandpa I never liked to begin with. He's more like the step-grandpa, who I periodically wished had never been born. The show Underdog I thought was uninspired, poorly animated drivel (thank you, modernists), and now it's back to irk me even more. This CGI bloated money-stealer (if you're a parent with young kids, I am very deeply sorry for you) is so annoyingly aggravating (based on trailer, of course) with its only-20%-related-to-the-original premise I'm about ready to upchuck on the carpet, had the cat not beaten me to it.

People who make movies with talking animals (exception: Babe) need to have their knee caps stolen. Okay, maybe it's just me, but I see it as a forced measure to get kids to get to theaters. Never mind original story, good directing, clever jokes, or anything that makes a film decent - that can all be bypassed with cute [talking] animals. But let me not be entirely pessimistic. Those of you who are dragged to this film will be enthralled by the clever dialogue, packed to the brim with fart related gags, I'm sure.

(Irksome point #2: okay, so they revived a franchise. But did they have to pervert it? Updating a premise does not immediately mean fill with sex, poop, and dumb gags. Keep it true!)

There were no crotch-punches in this film,... maybe there should be. I'd like to see that dog get what's coming to him, if only he wasn't mostly CGI, and probably neutered at that. So I'd like to send a kick in the crotch to Frederik Du Chau's way, because not only did he direct this film, he also directed Racing Stripes and Quest for Camelot.


Speaking of cute animals...

Arctic Tale hurries on the heels of March of the Penguins in attempt to catch the trendy cute-animal-documentary wave before global warming dehydrates all the oceans (as this film would have you believe). A dual-story of a walrus and her calf, and a polar bear and her cubs, the film touts itself as being made by the same people who did March of the Penguins. As further proof it'll be good, the movie-guy announcer used a lot of the same adjectives critics used to describe MotP.

Will it be up to snuff? Well, they couldn't get Morgan Freeman to do voice over work, so they got the next best thing: Queen Latifah. Certainly, if we're stupid enough to buy tickets to this film, we're probably not smart enough to distinguish black people apart. (Or maybe you're just a bunch of racists, aren't you?) Forget Freeman's knock-out voice and graceful narration style, Latifah's got AT-IT-TUDE, foo'.
Let's not stop there either, let's cram some political ideology in the mix. At every point you see these animals struggling in the wild, guess what? it's your fault for driving your car so much. YOU'RE killing these animals. Queen Latifa told me so.
Oh! wait wait! And and and - get this - instead of the subtlety and nuance of MotP in which all expressions, moods, and tones are conveyed through camera work and the animals' natural behavior, we're adding fart humor!... and maybe some voice over narration for the animals (Neil has yet to confirm this!).

It's enough to make me buy an SUV, spend my fortune on burning gasoline, and just wait for the rest of these Arctic creatures to die off so I won't have to see another of these previews. It's enough to make me move to China, so every time I have to see a banal talking dog preview I can step outside to the market and order honey roasted dog on a stick. And it's enough to make me push this far, far from my mind, and instead occupy it with pleasant, happier things (kickline frogs, for example). That means I should probably end this post.


At least Ratatouille was amazing.

-Heir to the Throne-

All the cool kids are doing it...

THIS is not a periodical update of my life.
THIS is not emotastic ramblings of how miserable life is, or why you should pity me.
THIS is not guaranteed to make any sense!

I'll say it up front: there is no real point to this at all! Every so often I just need to exercise my fingertips and purge my brain of idle ramblings. The majority of what will be written will be inconsequential, incoherent, and most likely inaccurate in describing my true opinions on topics. I don't plan on lying, but neither do I plan on reciting the truth. So can you blame me for any offense you may take while reading this? Certainly not. However, I will take offense you even considered blaming me!

Salud,
Heir to the Languish Dynasty