Archive for the ‘Reviews’ Category

No, Batman v. Superman Is Not “the Showgirls of Superhero Films”
March 29, 2016

batman v superman showgirls

The night before Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice came out, two of my friends tagged me in separate Facebook posts linking to a review from Ars Technica declaring BvS “the Showgirls of superhero films.” Knowing my friends know me so well is deeply touching, and since somebody mentioned Showgirls, I was undeniably intrigued despite my better judgment.

Sure, I had a feeling this review couldn’t be trusted, because it mentioned Sex in the City 2, not Sex and the City 2,  and that’s a straight man’s mistake when talking about a gay man’s sensibility. Still, I figured I had to approve or disprove the comparison to the Greatest Movie of All Time, so I saw it Saturday morning, and to quote Nomi Malone, “It’s a Versayce You don’t know sh*t!” Batman v. Superman: Definitely Not Showgirls is definitely not the Showgirls of superhero movies, or of that matter anything.

To explain:

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Try and Say Something Nice: Batman v. Superman Edition
March 27, 2016

batman-v-superman-kiss-kiss-kiss-30-rock

If you can’t say something nice, it’s entirely likely you’re having a conversation about Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice. It’s just not good! Still, while I fully intend to bitch and moan about it’s failure as camp, I decided this year that my One Blog Rule would to not be such a bemoaning bitch, so I thought it best to first say a few nice things about Batman v. Superman: Just Make Out Already. If for nothing else, it’s insurance against anybody who insists I’m just a hater who doesn’t get it.

Anyways, here they are:

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Who Rewatches Watchmen? (I Do.)
March 24, 2016

watchmen

In “anticipation” of Zack Snyder’s latest dour ‘n desaturated super hero action orgy, Bats v. Supes: More Titles Plz, I decided to rewatch Watchmen, because I kinda liked it before, I was curious how it’d hold up, and I wasn’t yet in the mood to rewatch Man v. Steel: More Fur Pecs Plz. Some cries for help can wait until the weekend.

As such, here are some scant thoughts I had upon revisiting Zack Snyder’s first foray in superhero cinema:

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Strike That, Please: A Contractually Obligated Review of Fifty Shades of Grey
February 15, 2015

fifty shades of grey dakota johnson curious

To answer the question above: Don’t be.

The following is a binding review between Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner (heretofore referred to as The Blog) and Fifty Shades of Grey (heretofore referred to as The “Movie”):

1. Let it first be put to record that The Blog didn’t want to do this, but several of The Blog’s friends were drunk on Strawberry Andre when we saw the movie and insisted upon a review. Said friends owe The Blog. A lot.

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Important Findings in the Album Art for Christina Aguilera’s Bionic
June 11, 2010

Over on Facebook, a friend of mine described Christina Aguilera’s Bionic as mostly consisting of “transparent attempts to pander to obnoxious queens.” I recognize that taste is a subjective thing, so he could be wrong, but he did study music production, so I’m willing to trust his critical assessment on this matter.  Besides, it probably explains why I’m enjoying Bionic so damn much.  After all, if Christina Aguilera’s latest album was an early-to-mid-90s Marvel Comic character, she’d be Nymphomaniac Robotranny Joan Crawford 2099:

In which case, how could I not love this nonsense?

Some of the songs, like “I Am” (co-written by Sia and painfully lovely in its chamber pop minimalism) and the glorious “My Girls” (a Le Tigre-penned track with a Peaches rap interlude, so electropop fantastiche), are legitimately good songs; other songs, like the ode to muff diving called “Woo Hoo” and the oh-so-unsubtly titled “Sex for Breakfast,” feature lyrics so cartoonishly sexual that they could fit right into Showgirls: The Musical (book and lyrics by Joe  Eszterhas, music by Andrew Lloyd Weber on a burritos and meth bender).  And then there’s “Vanity,” a song that scales to such heights of camp absurdity that it’s another post all unto itself.  Bionic may be neither a work of high art nor a pop masterpiece, but much of it’s so frequently batshit crazy and so thoroughly listenable that I find it irresistible.

ANYWAYS, as I was flipping through the album art for Bionic (which is as bonkers and fabulous–if not even more so–than the album itself), I had a revelation, and that revelation was that Christina Aguilera and I both share a love of Karen Black in The Day of the Locust.  Here’s Karen Black on the poster for The Day of the Locust:

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Happy Star Wars Day! Now Let’s All Watch This Epic Review of Attack of the Clones
May 4, 2010

True story, y’all: in my youth, I spent about as much time in my parents’ bedroom watching the classic Star Wars trilogy as I did prancing about pretending I was the star ballet dancer (affectionately nicknamed “Spotlight Spotlight Dancer”) in a production of Tchaichovsky’s The Nutcracker.  Both activities were encouraged by my parents, which–looking back–explains so very, very much about the man I am today.  That, and the one time I washed my neighborfriend’s Barbie’s hair in the bathroom sink.

ANYWAYS, as a result of of my upbringing, there aren’t many things in life that I miss quite like Carrie’s puns (it’s a homo thing), but those halycon hours I as a wee gay in spent in a galaxy far, far away most certainly are one of them (it’s a nerd thing), so it’s without reservation that I bid you all good tidings on today’s most joyous of fake holidays:

happy star wars day yoda carrie bradshaw puns

It goes without saying that this pun is like Darth Vader force choking your ear drums, so yeouch!  But it’s also a nice little way to take a moment out of your day and appreciate how Star Wars might have made your life a little better.  Or, if you’re feeling like a regular ol’ Scrooge, so much worse.  For your eyes.  And your soul.  You know exactly what I’m talking about:

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The 70-Minute Star Wars: The Phantom Menace Is the Best 70 Minutes You’ll Spend All Day
December 19, 2009

I’ve never fully understood the Star Wars: The Phantom Menace backlash.  It’s damn painful in parts (mostly the parts with Jar Jar Binks or Jake Lloyd), but I’ve always been willing to allow for its (frequent) missteps as inevitable the result of George Lucas being rusty and out of touch with what made the original trilogy a cultural milestone; after all, taking twenty-some-odd years away from the story that made you famous can do that.  I’m not saying The Phantom Menace is an unheralded classic, but I am saying we’re all allowed to make mistakes, and at least those mistakes don’t involve sloppily borrowing from not one but two Ridley Scott movies.  Whoops, Attack of the Clones, that’s your bad-idea cross to bare.

Anyways, there’s now a thorough (70-minutes long) and compelling (utterly hilarious) argument for The Phantom Menace being the nadir of the series.  That may seem like too much time to commit to one nerd’s take down of a movie that wasn’t worth its own bloated running time in the first place, but it’s not:

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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!):

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The Magnum Opus of Nobody Puts Baby In A Horner: Reactions to Powder Blue
August 9, 2009

Well, dear readers.  It is Saturday night, and the work week is done.   Nothing remains other than a complete and utter surrender…to excess.  The wine is chilled, the movies are bad, and the desserts are filled with empty calories.  So without further ado, let me introduce you to…

Ladies of Leisure

Allow me to introduce your hostesses this evening.  I am Shmathana, Comtesse de Homósexualitat and joining me is her exalted majesty, Benjilina, Duchess of Gaylandia.  And this evening, it is our delight and privilege to bring you at last, and as so long promised, the official Nobody Puts Baby In A Horner review of…Powder Blue.   You’ve longed for it.  You’ve dreamt of it.  And now, it is within your reach.  Yes dear readers…

And without further ceremony, let’s pop the bottles, and dive right in! (Please Note, this post is NSFBM…Not Safe For Benji’s Mom)

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So Orphan Is Pretty Much the Best Movie. Ever.
July 27, 2009

I’m not even joking, y’all.  If you haven’t already seen the instant camp/cult classic that is Orphan yet, you know what you have to do:

go see orphan

Seriously, this completely insane movie still should be reason enough for you to suddenly feign illness and catch the earliest possible showing.  This is a movie that uses a black-lit aquarium as a plot device!  And when you see what said black-lit aquarium reveals, the absolute batshit insanity of it all will make your head explode.  Twice.  And that’s just tip of the crazy iceberg.  

It has been ages and ages since we’ve seen anything so unrepentant in its ridiculousness.  Orphan has a go-for-broke, let-us-shock-the-shit-out-of-you zeal that is truly inspired.  It’s so ridiculous that it needs to come with protective glasses that keep your eyeballs from rolling out of your skull.  It’s incredibly well made, genuinely creepy, and–to be completely frank–in the worst possible taste imaginable.  And it’s so over-the-top in its bad taste that you can’t really fault it for arguably being total garbage.  I’d like to be more articulate, but I’m honestly still trying to digest it.  Having your head explode 37 separate times during a movie tends to do that to you.  That, and you really can’t discuss Orphan‘s sublime pleasures without spoiling the living hell out of it.

Still, allow me to tantalize you with the following decontextualized phrases:

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In Defense of Mediocrity: Musings on Carolina Liar
July 25, 2009

You may remember that back in April, Ben turned into a screaming queen over the trailer for Post Grad. One of the devious mechanisms by which this insidious preview wormed its way into our favorite cinephile’s consciousness (besides the utter deliciousness of Zach Gilford) was the overpowering pop hook of its theme.  There was some initial confusion over the title and artist of the song.  I asserted that it was “Show Me What I’m Looking For” by Carolina Liar.  Shmarker doubted my musical powers, and labeled it a Keane song.  I was right (hah!), but Shmarker was entirely justified in thinking it originated with Keane.  After all, it shamelessly aped Keane’s piano-heavy ballads and Chad Wolf seems to be painfully straining to imitate Tom Chaplin’s distinctive warble.  If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Tom must be downright charmed.

Now, the song has been popping up a lot lately.  From its humble beginnings as the backing theme to the Post Grad trailer, the song has appeared on everything from car commercials to new TV spots for The Time Traveler’s Wife, even promotions for Major League Baseball.  This certainly proves yet again that any band seeking a modicum of notoriety need only produce an un-offensive pop ballad with a catchy chorus, a 3 chord progression, and a suitably emotional tone. (more…)

Jane Austen + Supernatural Creatures = Heaven
July 16, 2009

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a thing without zombies must be in want of zombies.  I firmly believe that.  For you see, I love zombies.  I pray daily that the Zombie Apocalypse will occur in my liftime; hopefully, when I still possess the majestic biceps that will enable me to wield a chainsaw with surgical precision.  Just ask Benji, with whom I spent many a lovely evening viewing such cinematic classics as Dead Alive and Dawn of the Dead.  They left many fond memories, and led to many a pithy a comment by Benji, though I must admit I was most amused by his reaction to 28 Days Later:  “Oh FUCK THIS! I did not sign on for fast zombies!!!”  While my love of zombies perhaps does not quite equal my love for Daniel Cudmore, it runs firmly and deep–just as a deep as my adoration for a certain Ms. Austen.

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If You Haven’t Already Seen Drag Me to Hell, You Must Change That IMMEDIATELY
June 30, 2009

This past weekend, when I wasn’t screeching like an enthusiastic howler monkey at the passing drag queens in the Pride Parade, I managed to finally get my ass into the city and I finally caught Drag Me to Hell.  Needless to say, I loved it.  In fact, quite frankly (bad pun alert CODE RED!):

drag me to hell

I mean, I could be biased, and by “biased” I mean “completely lacking in taste, good judgment, and (quite possibly) sanity.”  After all, I did find Spider-Man 3 curiously entertaining in a campy, train wreck sort of way; so much so, in fact, that I saw it three times opening weekend. Then I bought the DVD.  My only rationale is that I find the musical numbers fascinatingly out of place with the rest of the film.  That, and I wrote the handbook on making good choices.

My point is that Sam Raimi, even in his missteps, displays an incredible understanding of genre and how to manipulate it and push it to the brink of shlock and camp without it becoming something eye-rollingly ridiculous (in the not-fun way).  He’s capable of taking genre filmmaking seriously without making it laborious; his direction always has levity to it, and Drag Me to Hell is by no means an exception.  

The plot is simple enough: Alison Lohman plays Christine Brown, a well-meaning loan officer determined to leave her small-town past by climbing up the ladder at her bank.  In a bid for the open assistant manager position, she refuses to grant a mortgage extension to a sickly old gypsy (Lorma Raver), gets cursed by said gypsy, and spends the rest of movie being tormented by a goat demon (yes, a goat demon) that will in three days time drag her to hell.  Gross-out gags, tons of scares, and darkly comic humor with the perfect touch of B-movie camp abound.  You can’t necessarily argue that Sam Raimi’s aiming for art with Drag Me to Hell, but it’s impossible to deny that he’s made an incredibly smart and rather merciless thrill ride.  

The scares, while mostly of the easy boo! variety, are at least genuinely earned by the way Raimi builds a mood of dread and suspense, and the ending is simply jaw-dropping perfection.  The second the film cut to the closing credits, I blurted out, “Holy shit!” like I’d just gotten a rather nasty case of verbal/real diarrhea.  It’s just that exceptional in execution.  Drag Me to Hell is, as was advertised in the trailer, a return to true horror.  Oh, and best of all?  Raimi’s created a wonderfully rich and intriguing Final Girl with Christine.  

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Why So Serious(ly Awful), S. Darko?
June 8, 2009

Back when I saw the trailer for S. Darko, I had high hopes that it was going to be a campalicious train wreck.  It seemed to have the pedigree, after all.  It’s a straight-to-DVD release, it has a truly bizarre cast (Elizabeth Berkley, Ed Westwick, and Daveigh Chase???), and it’s automatically one of the worst ideas ever.  Seriously, a sequel to the cult classic Donnie Darko is pretty much the one thing absolutely nobody asked for, but that’s never stopped Hollywood before, so all we can do is cross our fingers for a new camp classic as we watch the bad ideas pile-up like a multi-car highway accident.  At least it’s got Elizabeth Berkley as a Jesus freak, so that’s something, right?

s darko wrong

On one hand, I really shouldn’t be surprised by how bad S. Darko ended up being.  Everything that could have made it the great camp sensation is also a liability.  Straight-to-DVD is always a coin toss between fabulously bad and just plain bad, so I guess for every Powder Blue there must also be an S. Darko.  Still, it’s an impressive feat to witness just what a spectacular failure S. Darko actually is.  Not in a fun way, mind you, but in a whoabitch-is-this-movie-terrible sort of way.

The plot involves Samantha Darko (Daveigh Chase) heading out on a road trip with her rebellious friend (Briana Evigan) only to end up in a small town when their car breaks down.  There’s a crazy Christian cult in the town, disappearing children, and a crazed war veteran the town refers to Iraq Jack (James Lafferty).  Iraq Jack keeps seeing a Samantha ghost warn him of the impending end of the world, everybody in town loves Samantha because behaving like a melancholic zombie is the new sexy to Chuck Bass and the town nerd, and then a weird geometric shape travels through one of those space/time worms, bursts into flames above Earth, and becomes a meteor shower.  Meteors that give you nasty skin rashes and drive you violently insane.  Of course.  

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Alright Already! We’ll Talk About Glee
May 27, 2009

Yeesh.  Certain people, who shall remain nameless but might have names that rhyme with Shmarker and Shmathan (just saying, and also, love you guys!), have been all up in my grill about Glee.  It’s nothing but “Why don’t you blog about Glee?” this and “I hate your face ’til you blog about Glee!” that.  So fine, here we go:

glee copy

Seriously, was there ever any question?  I think not.  If anything, my only complaint is that we’re all forced to wait until this fall for more Glee.  That’s ass and a half, y’all; fortunately, despite Fox clearly conducting an experiment in patience amongst the nation’s gays (and their fag hags), Glee is anything but ass and a half.

Maybe it’s hyperbole, but Glee‘s the most inspired television show in quite some time.  The underdog-competitor-meets-Busby-Berkeley-musical vibe is infinitely charming blend of camp and heartfelt sincerity, and any show that can bring together both the eternally adorable Jayma Mays and eternally fierce Jessalyn Gilsig clearly knows a thing or two about casting.  And let’s not forget that Glee gave us the single greatest rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin'” ever made EVER:

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The Gossip Girl We Know and Love Returned Last Night! Huzzah!!!
May 19, 2009

Just in time for its summer hiatus!  Fiddlesticks!!!  Though I don’t really think I can better express my extreme frustration than this visual diagram:

chuck blair gossip girl

See, like Blair’s inability to wait for Chuck to confess his love for her, such is my inability to wait for Gossip Girl to return next season.  That’s just how good it was.  Soooo good.  Incapable-of-making-complete-sentences good, even, so let’s just abandon all hope of a cohesive recap and discuss the highlights of this fabulous return to glittery trash.

Firstly, there was the moment in this episode when for a hot second we’re all led to believe that Eric’s boyfriend was Gossip Girl, but then after the commercial break we’re told that he’s not; he just happened to hack into her file server, which gives him access to her texts (?). That barely makes sense, seems inspired by one of the bevy of internet-themed thrillers that came out in the mid-1990s when our minds were being blown by dial-up and AOL, and also gave me the “Whaaaa?”-face of the century.  It may have only been a tease, but what a fantastic tease it was.

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Nothing Can Save The Midnight Meat Train From Being an Unmitigated Disaster
May 19, 2009

If by “terrifying,” you mean “terrifyingly lame,” then absolutely, Midnight Meat Train movie poster:

midnight meat train wreck

It’s true that I’ve only myself to blame for sitting through this mess.  Shouldn’t I have known that, with a title like The Midnight Meat Train, it was going to be terrible?  Yes, I totally should’ve.  But, in my defense, there was quite a bit going for it.  For example, it’s based on a short story by Clive Barker, the man responsible for Hellraiser and Candyman, which are easily two of my favorite horror movies ever made.  Then there’s the trailer, and like all good trailers, it makes the movie look far better than it actually is:

This trailers says, “I’m stylishly directed, and although I’m just a trashy splatter flick, at least I’m trashing it up with style to spare.  Also, I’ve got Brooke Shields being a steel-faced bitch!”  While all of these things are essentially true, none of it adds up to being even remotely approaching good.  The performances range from whatever (Bradley Cooper’s obsessed photographed is a self-absorbed vegetarian douchebag that everybody inexplicably wants to help out despite his lack of any discernible talent; I guess these things happen when you’re really, really good looking) to failed camp (Brooke Shields tries to play vampy bitch and just comes off as awkward and stiff) to utterly abominable (Leslie Bibb, in the supportive girlfriend role, is egregiously annoying and a reminder as to why I’ll never bother to dabble in bisexuality).  Even Vinnie Jones, whose stern face and hulking size at least lend him some sort of presence, is left to do nothing but look threatening when he’s not killing people.  Then again, The Midnight Meat Train isn’t worried so much about characterization or performance as it is with staging the most over-the-top (and certainly inappropriate for the faint of heart and my mother) death scenes I’ve seen in some time:

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What Do We Learn From Watching Frontier(s)? Horror is Not a Strong Suit of Contemporary French Cinema
May 18, 2009

I’m not entirely certain who’s trying to make French horror the next big thing, but I really hope they get it out of there system, ‘cos they need to quit it like a bad habit.  Don’t get me wrong.  The French have got an incredible cuisine and a rich film history, so they’ve done everything right in my book.  Hell, they even gave us the wonderfully creepy and surreal Eyes Without a Face, so it’s not that the French are simply incapable of making any decent entries in the genre.  That doesn’t stop Frontier(s), though, from being a near disgrace to both its genre and nation.  It’s seriously, totally stupid.

frontiers dumb

It should, of course, be noted that Frontier(s) isn’t even the first misstep the French have recently taken in trying to develop their own take on the horror genre.  High Tension was stupid and had the most shenanigansiest (and misogynistic and homophobic) ending of all time, and Inside had a preposterously ridiculous final act and an entirely different (yet nevertheless problematic) set of gender politics.  Now, having seen Frontier(s), I feel relatively confident in concluding that one of contemporary French horror’s defining traits is an obligation to plummet into the depths of absurdity in their final act.  Fortunately (?) for Frontier(s), director Xavier Gens is clearly an aspiring auteur, so he logically ups the ante by starting at ridiculous and then descending into batshit insanity and ham-fisted “political” commentary.  Or, in the simply words of the interwebs: HORROR MOVIE FAIL, Monsieur Gens.

The plot in Frontier(s) involves four Middle Eastern French youths fleeing Paris with a bunch of money they stole during riots that occurred over the election of a conservative President Nicolas Sarkozy.  They’re Middle Eastern because that’s how this movie discusses racial issues in France, which is by not actually saying anything at all beyond “Mon dieu, France has racial tension!”  In a similarly subtle political analysis, the backwoods family our protagonists come across are Nazis, because the fascist genocide of the Nazi party is precisely the same as Sarkozy’s politics.  But beyond Frontier(s) being the sort of hyperbolic and reactionary allegory that seems clever and insightful (if you’re taking your daily dose of idiot pills), it’s also pretty inept on the most basic of levels.

 Any movie that lackadaisically plagiarizes  a bevy of recent horror films for its middle act [The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (the remake!), The Descent, and Hostel] to mask its lack of originality pay homage to the genre is automatically setting itself up for failure, but you’ve never seen a movie so wildly derail itself until you’ve seen the ending of Frontier(s).   While most of the movie is your standard captured-by-sadistic-yokels-in-the-isolated-countryside, the ending is a karo-syrup-drenched action movie in which (among the insanities) one Nazi gets a table saw through the chest, and the  final girl conveys her “shock” by convulsing around like an epileptic crack-whore doing the shimmy shakes ‘cos she needs of a fix to convey her “shock.”  Seriously, if it wasn’t for the fact that so much lazy and laborious nothing came before it, I’d totally be behind the unhinged insanity of the finale, but it is, so I’m not.  

It also must be noted that this movie does contain cannibalistic cave children who’re the product of too much Nazi inbreeding.  And did I also mention that the final girl is in a blood-soaked wedding dress?  And that she BITES A CHUNK OUT OF NEO-NAZI’S NECK?  That’s not a spoiler, by the way, that’s just me saying that in the tradition of ridiculous endings that seems to define French horror, this is some truly epic bullshit.  It’s a finely aged Gruyère of totally trashy, over-the-top gore cinema.

It’s just a pity that the rest of the movie is so très horrible.

Now That We’re Back in Blog Action, Let’s Discuss Star Trek
May 14, 2009

star trek wicked awesome

Sometimes you need a blog break, a short hiatus to take a blog breather and recharge your blog batteries.  Some people take this is the form of a stay-cation, or perhaps they take a debauched long weekend in Las Vegas, or maybe instead it’s a quiet rest in a cabin in the mountains that’s far away from civilization.  In my case, you spend time with the family for Mother’s Day.  And you see Star Trek.  Hot damn does that movie ever do the blog body good.  

I recognize, what with it only being a mere two weeks into summer movie season and all, that I may be veering into full-on nerd hyperbole by making the following statement, but seriously, y’all: Star Trek is this summer’s best escapism.  It really has everything you could ask for in a summer movie.  There’s Chris Pine being hot and brash as James Kirk.  You’ve got Zachary Quinto being hot and Vulcan as an emotionally complicated Spock.  Eric Bana does his magic (aka, being hot) while also being evil and bald as the villainous Romulan Nero.  We also get Zoe Saldana being hot and feisty fierce as Uhura, and James Cho also being hot and doing some totally bitchin’ sword fighting as Sulu.  And, oh yeah, there’s also some of the most dazzling (and in all likelihood the most coherent) action sequences you’ll see all summer.

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Fingers Crossed the Returning Triumph of Gossip Girl is no Flash in the Pan
May 5, 2009

So after taking a pass at reviewing last week’s Gossip Girl on account of the fact that it would’ve pretty much consisted of nothing but different phrasings of “Georgina’s back” and lots of exclamation points (which is something I realize perhaps nobody else but me wants) I can attest that this week’s deserves at least a few words because–if nothing else–Eric has returned for 3 seconds!  And he’s not schilling for Neutrogena as I’d speculated!  Oh, and Georgina’s back, for realsies!  YESSS!!!!

georgina-bitch-back

Though speaking of schills, poor Vanessa seems to officially be CW’s face of Dove products, which let’s not forget is the company that markets itself around ideas of natural beauty, aka the sort of beauty Gossip Girl has precisely no interest in acknowledging.  I for one find Jessica Szohr to be really pretty, so color me shocked that the creators have dropper her but keep bringing out Rat-Nest-Raccoon-Face for the most random things (giving Rufus pep talks and distracting Lily so Rufus finish preparing his proposal dinner was yet another unsubtle nail in the we-haven’t-a-clue-what-to-do-with-you coffin).  

And speaking of Lil’ J, couldn’t they’ve at least found a way to briefly reunite the hag with her fag?  That could’ve been the moment where someone finally bitch-slap some style sense into her, but alas.  Apparently Jenny’s fug, like the city in which she calls home, never sleeps.

Anyways, I’m digressing. Given how ridiculous last night’s episode was, it looks like everybody apparently took their crazy pills in the intermittent time between shows. 

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