Archive for September, 2009

The Nightmare on Elm Street Remake Now Has a Trailer. Let’s All Discuss
September 28, 2009

So this is still most definitely happening:


And, yes, I may have in the past been a little harsh when it comes to the remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street.  Okay, I’ve definitely been really harsh.  But whatever.  I can’t help myself.  I’m inclined to be protective of the horror films that I hold dear.  That, and I have a tendency to become hyperbolically bitchy when it comes to defending said films from the clutches of Hollywood remakery.  These things happen.

Anywhosie, the first official trailer for the remake has splattered itself all over the interwebs (get it?  It’s a horror pun.  ‘Cos this blog is the face of sophisticated, erudite humor. Le duh.), so let’s all watch and reassess the situation based upon the latest evidence.  After all, that’s how scientists and the cast of CSI: Miami do things in the real world:


Tragedy Has Befallen Television! The Beautiful Life Has Been Cancelled
September 26, 2009

Even though I barely made it through the first episode of The Beautiful Life (that show was not good, y’all), I’m nevertheless saddened that CW has decided to pull the plug and cancel it after two episodes.  I’m in shock, and I suspect I’m not the only one:

mischa tbl cancellation disbelief

While the show itself was quite bland, I nevertheless cannot understand a world that would deny us Mischa Barton in a prime-time, youth-oriented soap opera.  This news is like the dysmal third season of The O.C., when the show became awful and Marissa Cooper was killed in a car accident, but now I can’t blame it on the public school kids.  When you look it up in the French dictionary, this is what they call “le sadness.”  But we haven’t just lost Mischa.  We’ve also lost this:


The Only Thing More Depressing Than Scream 4 Existing Is Scream 4 Existing AND Starring Neve Campbell
September 26, 2009

It’s been a while since thought about Scream 4, and that’s largely because it pains me to know end to think about this debacle coming to fruition.  Scream was the first R-rated horror film I was ever allowed to watch.  I lost my H-card to Scream, y’all, so the thought of Courteney Cox Arquette and David Arquette being surrounded by a CW-series worthy cast of actors and calling it Scream 4 feels somewhat akin to tracking down your high-school sweetheart only to discover they’ve gotten a cheap boob-job and are turning tricks outside a Cheesecake Factory.  You want so desperately to rekindle those old feelings, but you can’t help but feeling it’s going to be sloppy and desperate.  In the end, it’s really just best to walk away and remember the good times.  So why stop with the ostrichin’?

Well, there now comes news that Neve Campbell has joined the cast of Scream 4, which is the sort of tidbit that makes me wish Tatum was still around to dole out her sassy yet sage wisdom:

scream 4 neve campbell bad idea

Seeing as she was taken out by a rather unfortunate accident involving a doggy door and an electronic garage door opener, such advice could not be counseled.  That, and she’s also a fictional character, but whatever.  Boo.

What sucks about this development (besides Neve Campbell seeing Neve Campbell get wrangled into this train wreck) is that I now have to hoist up my white flag and admit defeat/mildly percolating interest.  If I’ve sat through Three to Tango for Neve Campbell,  then it goes without saying that I’ll be sitting through Scream 4 for Neve Campbell.  Of course they’ll probably just Casey Becker her in the first 15 minutes, but shooting doesn’t start ’til next spring, so there’s still time for this not to be the worst!  Let’s discuss.


September 23, 2009

Actually, it’s technically in New Jersey, which has as a result made figuring out the quickest and easiest commute a nightmare.  When you live in Brooklyn and plan to go to work the next day, getting back to your apartment at 3 am on account of unprepared public transportation system is simply not an option.

Nevertheless, last night I had a vision of the imminent future of Giant Stadium’s attendees, and it looked like this:

u2 360 freakout

See, that police officer clearly HATES that girl having that melt-down because she’s being so incredibly loud that he’ll probably have irreversible hearing damage for the rest of his life.  I will soon be that girl, and that cop will soon be anyone in the vicinity of me at the U2 show tonight.  This is what we call a visual metaphor.

Anyways, the problem with me and going to a U2 show is that I lack any concept of self-control.  If I know the lyrics, I will sing that song at the top of my lungs.  I will dance.  I will jump about.  When nothing else is happening, I’ll be cheering ’til my vocal chords bleed/I’m mistaken for an escaped howler monkey by animal control .  I might even vomit on account of excess enthusiasm.  I know these are just signs of my unwavering commitment to U2 Motion, but I pretty much become that guy at the concert, and so I preemptively apologize to whoever sits around me at tonight’s show.  I can’t help it.  I’ve been brimming with U2thusiasm for months and months, and it’s time to let it all out like a dusted damn.

That, and I’ll probably operating on one hell of a sugar rush after I eat one of these bad boys for dinner:


The Mad Men Super-Gigantic, Three-for-One Recapapalooza
September 22, 2009

Oh man, y’all.  I get a little bit tardy (for the party) with keeping my blog promise, and then Sunday night’s episode happened, which was the usual Mad Men greatness.  Until the end, which was easily the ballsiest (and most utterly insane) television Mad Men has put forth thus far.  I’m tempted to prematurely insist that this episode was a game changer for the show, but I’m getting way ahead of myself.

Before we talk about the crazy, let’s go quickly recap the highs and lows of the past three episodes.  A blog promise is a promise, after all, which means we have to discuss things like jai alai, the sport that Regina George would have a few choice words for if she worked at Sterling Cooper:

regina george jai alai

Maybe it’s the fact that any discussion of sports is inherently a discussion I don’t care about, or maybe it’s just that choosing such an obscure sport felt like an incredibly forced way of depicting Horace as spoiled to the point of delusion, but I was not having the jai alai plot.

Fortunately, when Mad Men tries to get all sporty and butch on me, they give us Sal talking about his vision for the Patio commercial:

Sal gets so excited about Ann-Margret that he starts camping about his bedroom.  Kitty makes a sad-face that is totally heartbreaking.  What’s not to adore about this scene? Oh, that’s right: NOTHING!

Also, behold what happens when Pepsi’s bad-idea ad baby shimmies and shakes its way out of the womb:


RIP, Mary Travers
September 17, 2009

Mary of Peter, Paul and Mary has passed away.  “Puff the Magic Dragon” and the animated short it inspired were staples of my youth, but this performance of “Early in the Morning” seems more fitting a tribute:

Is there anything more to be said that this video doesn’t already say?  No, I think not.  She was amazing, and she’ll be missed.

Don’t Judge Me.
September 16, 2009

There’s a well known saying that goes “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em; and if you tend to share similar interests with legions of teenage girls, don’t even try and front.”  Truer words have probably never been spoken, and so it is with a deep shame that I admit the following: 

new moon excitement

I know I’ve previously acknowledged that I’m Twicurious to see the movie as an anthropological expedition of sorts, and I’d love to continue to feign such ironic detachment all the way ’til the much ballyhooed Apocalypse of 2012, but there are some forces that are simply too powerful to deny.  And apparently those forces involve  Kristen Stewart’s hysterics, abs, and Dakota Fanning:


RIP, Patrick Swayze
September 15, 2009


Oh man, y’all.  Patrick Swazye passed away yesterday at 57 after a 20-month battle with pancreatic cancer. It should go without saying, but this news is simply terrible.

This is the actor, after all, whose career highlights include Point Break and Ghost.  Not many actors can find success as both the macho action star and the sensitive romantic lead (let alone in movies that have earned a place in the pop culture lexicon), but Patrick Swayze had the charm and versatility to have such success.  Perhaps this explains why he also made one hell of a drag queen:


Yes, this fabulous vision of glamor also starred in Road House.  Fierce drag queen is hardly the most conventional career choice when you’re known for playing a philosophical surfer/bank robber and one of cinema’s sexiest lingering spirits, but therein lies the genius:


Parting is such sweet sorrow…
September 14, 2009

A farewell post by Shmathan…

As Robert Frost once famously wrote, “Nothing gold can stay.”  And alas, I must repeat these mournful words as I bid farewell to you, the lovely readers of Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner.  Months ago, Benji graciously took me under his wing to teach me the ways of the Force the Blog.  I owe him much, that Sibyl of Sass, that Queen of Camp.  But the circle is now complete, and the student must move on and make his own way.  I must say, I’ve relished the opportunity to constantly rag on Twihards, share my obsession with Daniel Cudmore and hold forth on all things Geeky.  But it is time to leave this blog to its rightful master, and anyway, remains the greatest source of Nerd Things on the internet.  So it is time to go in search of my own voice.  So, if you ever find yourself missing my overwritten rants and tendency to wax pretentious, come visit me at my own little corner of the interwebs, Oscar Wilde’s Closet. Thank you, and good night.

We’re Back! Now Here’s a Trailer for Trash Humpers!
September 14, 2009

Well, after a serious bout of the lazies (being witty can be so damn exhausting, y’all), it’s about time we got back to business discussing all of the most important things going on in the world.  Things like this trailer for the new Harmony Korine “movie,” Trash Humpers:  

Ermmm…I’ll admit that the extent of my knowledge of Harmony Korine’s film career is limited to that one time I organized the DVDs at my old summer job and I put Gummo under “G,” but I still feel as though a) this trailer doesn’t make a damn lick of sense, and b) it’s going to haunt my dreams for weeks and weeks to come.  My instinct tells me that Trash Humpers must be an indie/art-house  exercise in self-indulgent nightmare making, and this trailer is unquestionably all-caps ECCENTRIC, yet this somehow only manages to further intrigue me.  

I’ve a well documented adoration for movies that are batshit crazy, and I’m nothing if not a cinematic masochist, so the part of me that enjoys never sleeping again is really interested in seeing this movie.  On the other hand, though, there’s this image for the film from Harmony Korine’s website, which confirms my suspicions:


Tuesday’s the New Hump Day, Which Is Reason Enough to Watch Melrose Place
September 8, 2009

I mean, how could you forget?  Those Melrose Place ads speak the truth, y’all:


Of course this ad’s referring specifically to crotch humping, but we’ve already been over that clever little innuendo.  The fact is that there’s simply no reason that you shouldn’t be watching the premiere tonight.  Seriously, feast your eyes on this 30-second tease of the impending trashapalooza and tell me it doesn’t sending you into a bad-taste tizzy:

Ha haha ha ha ha!  AMAZING!  I’ve honestly been far more gung-ho about this than I ever was about the 90210 reboot because the original Melrose Place is often spoken of as some sort of mid-90s camp television Holy Grail, and even the mere attempt to try and rebottle that go-for-broke-ridiculightening is all I need to dictate my plans for Tuesday evenings.  Added to that, there’s one incredibly important detail that I feel certain guarantees to make this guilty pleasure the guiltiest pleasure in ages:


The Final Destination? I Seriously, Sadly Doubt It
September 3, 2009

To be certain, I’d already seen the trailer for The Final Destination, which is unquestionably asinine:

It looked–and still looks–ridiculous.  And stupid.  So, you know, everything that makes the Final Destination series so enjoyable.  It’s the same plot and practically the same dialogue; only the actors and accidents change.  But now it’s in 3D, so it’s new to you!  I guess, Hollywood?  Whatever.  Sold.

Still, having now seen The Final Destination, I have to admit that it’s incomparably more ridicudumb than I could’ve ever imagined.  I should have probably expected this when the central accident involved race cars.

There’s very little that’s spectacularly inventive about the kills save for the fact that they really play up the 3D gimmick.  It’s always some part of some person that’s flying towards the screen, and such redundancy will probably be even more evident if you watch it in 2D on DVD.  Still, the 3D experience is what you’re paying for (unless you’re me, in which case you saw it for free thanks to your cable company’s rewards program), so the filmmakers of The Final Destination deserve a “well played” for delivering it in spades.

On the other hand, though, the movie is painfully lazy in the script department.  The barebones story is now so gaunt and transparent that you want the movie to just eat something (preferably starches)!   Added to that, while the Final Destination franchise has never been about subtlety or depth, there are characters in this movie with credits like Cowboy and Racist.  The Cowboy gets his name because of his hat, and the Racist really hates black people, and both of these characters actually have relevant roles in the story!  I’m pretty sure this sort of character development doesn’t even constitute half a dimension.

Fortunately, when it comes to Racist at least, Death seems to have a sense of humor.  And a membership with the NAACP (SPOILER ALERTZ!):


Hell Hath No Fury Like a Gindaloon Scorned
September 1, 2009

This past weekend, I was told that I had to make the word gindaloon part of my blog vocabulary.  A gindaloon is a guido by another name, but you can also call ’em ginzos if you three syllables is one too many to express your Jersey Shore hate.  ANYWAYS, thanks to the glorious serendipity of the interwebs, such a request has quickly been answered by this viral video.  Behold the incredibly NSFW yet utterly captivating musings of this guido–excuse me–gindaloon:

Erm, what?  Why is it that every time guys try to act excessively masculine the end result has a curiously homoerotic charge?  This video comes off as less like a threat and more like one of those embarrassing voicemails you leave at 3 am after too many Flirtinis and a really bad breakup.  Except this shit is butch as hell.  Because of the tequila:


Add Some Music To Your Day: Are You Kidding Me?!
September 1, 2009

It appears to be a musical day here at Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner, with Benji having already brought some “Spirit” to your morning.  Now, I’ve been pondering what to write about for my next Add Some Music To Your Day.  I was thinking, perhaps a Salute to Sweden, a country that brought us the The Shout Out Louds, Leopold, The Cardigans, and Peter Bjorn & John (and need I even say…ABBA?! ew..) or maybe a rant about how I can’t get Mika’s “We Are Golden” out of my head (even though it totally rips off Annie Lennox’s “Walking On Broken Glass”).  But then the Universe provided me with gold.  Pure gold.

While flipping through the channels, I came across this:

And this:

Apparently, it is a program called “Music In High Places,” where artists are dragged to God knows where to perform accompanied by the majesty of nature.  That’s exactly what the Goo Goo Dolls, masters of the inoffensive overly-emotional soft rock ballad, need to send their melodramatic musical stylings into the stratosphere of utter ri-god-damn-diculousness,

Though, as I watch this, I must admit I feel the faint stirrings of nostalgia, recalling a time when as a young, bright-eyed boy of 17 I was dragged to one of their concerts.   I wasn’t exactly the ideal audience member.  After the band played a new song, John Rzeznik asked, “Do we get our indie cred back now?”  I may or may not have shouted at the top of my lungs, “Did you ever have it?!”

The answer Johnny, is no.  And shit like this just proves it over, and over.

Apropos of the Weather and ‘Cos I Love It So, Here’s Caesars’ “Spirit”
September 1, 2009

There’s no particular reason that I’m posting this song save for the fact that it’s all about the beginning of autumn, and the recent drop in temperature in NYC has lulled me into a peaceful mood much the way a baby is soothed as it suckles a teat.  Seriously, fall is like boobs to me (that makes absolutely no sense, but I’m fine with that).

Anyways, here’s “Spirit,” the opening track from Paper Tigers by Caesars:

This song is kinda like the musical equivalent of pumpkin spice lattes and weather that’s suitable for wearing vests.  In a word?  Delicious.

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