Milk

Towards the end of the year it's not surprising to see the number of decent flicks in theaters dwindle. However, 2008 has a nice little spread of films to suit most anybody's needs. In the mood for a touchy feely movie you can take the whole family to see? Check out Marley & Me. What if you're leaning more toward shit blowing up, guns, and cleavage galore? Frank Miller's The Spirit has got you covered. How 'bout something for the indie lover? Check out Frost/Nixon or Milk, two historically centered flicks highlighting the political climates of the past helmed by two very accomplished directors: Ron "don't you dare call me 'ginger'" Howard and Gus "bitch, I made Good Will Hunting" Van Sant, respectively. As you might have guessed by now, I happened to catch Van Sant's Milk before hightailing it out of New England for a more optimal climate (read: California).

Milk is a wonderful biopic about the life and times of one Harvey Milk (played by Sean "Spicoli" Penn), the first openly gay elected public official who held office in San Francisco's Castro District in 1978 until his assassination (sorry if I ruined the ending of the movie there, but come on, it's history people) along with Mayor George Moscone. The movie begins with Harvey relaying his experiences as a gay citizen, public official hopeful, and finally as a powerful symbol of human rights to a tape recorder, a lovely storytelling device that holds this flick together, especially when Gus' flick needs some roping in. But I'll get to that a little later... The movie transitions relatively smoothly from past to present, giving us a nice deep look at Harvey's motivations for putting himself in the limelight, making himself a target for praise and condemnation.

The cast is rounded out by James "Fuck Jeff Goldblum" Franco, Emile "I made out with Elisha Cuthbert" Hirsch, Diego "why did I make Havana Nights?" Luna, and Josh "I've come a long way since Hollow Man" Brolin. The supporting characters in this movie are fleshed out perfectly, complimenting and accentuating Harvey Milk's down-to-earth, "why can't we all just get along?" rationale, although I must say Diego Luna's portrayal of Harvey's Spanish lover inadvertently made me forever hate his whiny bitch of a soul. I digress. The acting in this movie is superb and despite the obvious amount of artistic freedom taken with the historical parts of the film, you really do feel like you're privy to the most private of moments in these characters' lives. The acting is a little too good, one might say. Milk is an emotional rollercoaster and I wouldn't be surprised if the usual moviegoer lets loose some waterworks throughout the movie. Just be happy it wasn't a cute cuddly dog with a red bow making you cry like a little girl with a scraped knee (although that's completely acceptable too, you big man baby you).

Although I enjoyed Gus Van Sant's film very much, I did have a few problems with it. Throughout the movie, Gus likes to utilize normal film stock, found footage from 1978, and mock-footage that's either filtered or filmed with super grainy high speed film in black and white. This accomplishes a nice effect, although Gus cuts from each film type in a very haphazard manner, making for a confusing experience. Perhaps this is supposed to blur the line between timeframes or between Harvey's political and personal life, but it does throw off the spectator more than a few times. Nonetheless, I did embrace the theme of documentation that flows underneath Sean Penn's performance: from beginning to end, this movie is all about recording one's ideals whether this happens in the form of a public identity, personal tape recordings, photography, and so on and so forth. Maybe it was by accident, by I'm willing to give Gus the benefit of the doubt.

I've always been a fan of Gus's flicks and he hasn't let me down this time. If you're looking for a nice little foray out of the typical popcorn movie lineup, check this film out. And with that...

1. Does eating too much junk food really make you go crazy?
2. Who would be a better Harvey Milk: Robin Williams or Sean Penn? [Robin Williams was originally attached to the lead...fyi]
3. Is Sarah Palin the new Anita Bryant?

P.S. Gus Van Sant's Milk is up for a Golden Globe for Best Actor. Best of luck Mr. Penn.

Zack And Miri Make A Porno

Preface: we are die hard Kevin Smith fans. We own his movies in various formats, met him personally, quote his flicks constantly [incessantly at times], and even own his books. Yes, we own books that contain the most inane and personal details most wouldn't want to know about any filmmaker or their closest of friends. For instance, Mr. Smith likes to beat off to nudies of his wife in the morning while said spouse sleeps or that he likes to play Nintendo DS while he takes his morning deuce. Needless to say, we spend a lot of our own personal life devouring anything and everything Kevin Smith. That being said, we were expecting a certain sort of movie out Zack and Miri Make A Porno. But before we get ahead of ourselves..

Kevin Smith's latest flick entails the story of two lifelong friends - Zack and Miri, natch - who find themselves unable to pay utilities bills and are on the verge of being homeless. As you might have guessed by this point, they decide to make their own porno with some friends and coworkers and all of a sudden you've got the first 15 minutes of the film. To quote Riley Freeman, "that's all you get for free." An extra $10-ish bucks is going to get you, in no particular order:

1. Seth Rogen doing his standard Apatow improv
2. Nudity up to your asshole
3. Elizabeth "I like to do it myself" Banks
4. One of the most unbelievable bodily fluids sight gags ever caught on celluloid
5. Darryl from The Office.. Enough said.

Not a bad lot considering your admission price, but something is definitely amiss once you actually plop your ass down in one of those sticky theater seats and start taking in the flick. For one, the film oscillates too much between the fart/dick jokes that have become the norm for Smith films of late and the touchy-feely rom-coms laden with epic monologues that Kevin seems to have a soft spot for. Now, generally this isn't a bad thing, especially since I've long considered Kevin Smith an expert at whipping together a ridiculous mish mash of poop jokes, unconventional love stories, and witty banter all without seeming like he's another Apatow disciple. Perhaps Kevin somehow lost his usual barometer for judging what makes it past editing, or maybe it's hard to ignore the presence of improv-tongued Seth Rogen, but for whatever reason Zack and Miri often feels uncertain. Kevin Smith once noted that his style is that he "has no style." This is taken to the nth degree in Zack and Miri and at times - several to be exact - you can't even tell this is a Kevin Smith film at all. The intellectual, sharp dialogue isn't as a engaging, but it has its moments; the characters get developed, but in the end you just don't seem that invested in Rogen's pornographic quagmire; a lot of the jokes are toss away gags and honestly, seem too childish even for Kevin Smith's usual demographic.

My qualms aside, Zack and Miri was a great watch. It might not have had the same effect Clerks or Mallrats or Dogma had on me, but I'm more than happy to throw a little coin at Kevin. Job well done, albeit unorthodox, at least in Kevin Smith standards. Although I wasn't that surprised, Craig Robinson pretty much ran away with this movie. Every moment he's on screen is gold and definitely carries the film a long way.

I might be a fan in denial, but I was able to ignore the bit of doubt clinging to the back of my head that maybe Kevin has lost it, maybe his time is up as a pioneer of honest, accessible moviemaking. But fuck that. If anything, I see this as a prime opportunity for Mr. Smith to start taking his stripped down visual style and proclivity to write humorous and thoughtful dialogue in other directions. His future projects include a sci-fi flick set in space and a thriller having to do with religious fanatics, both intriguing concepts and I hope he gets them off the ground. With that,

1. No Ben Affleck cameo?
2. Although it looks like a lot of fun, how feasible is a double-dutch rudder in a live-fire bedroom scenario?
3. Is anal sex really the preferred laxative for porn stars?
4. Is Black Friday really a corporate racist conspiracy to keep the black man down?

P.S. In case you're a horror junkie (like us), there are plenty of little zombie/Romero easter eggs in this flick. The Monroeville Mall, the hockey jersey Zack sports, plus a wonderful cameo from Sex Machine a.k.a. gore effects master Tom Savini!!

Quarantine

The long tradition of remaking foreign horror flicks hasn't let up this year, and since Halloween is right around the corner, we're not surprised that Hollywood's gobbling up every piece of celluloid it can get its greedy little hands on. That or it's milking franchises that should have shit the bed years ago [Saw V, we're looking at you...] A year ago a Spanish flick named [REC] hit the scene and got a positive reception from the world's horror buffs, thus lighting a fire under Hollywood's ass and BAM! Quarantine was born. The plot's pretty straightforward: Angela, a cutie newsreporter, and her cameraman shadow a team of very enthusiastic - and horny - firefighters in Los Angeles, they answer a 911 call involving an old woman in a sketchy apartment complex, and one neck-bite later, we're stuck in the middle of a P.O.V. pesudo-zombie shit show. As per usual horror flick standards, people foaming at the mouth and moaning in pain doesn't alert anyone that some real shit is about to go down. Once you get past the initial setup, Quarantine hits the ground running and you get caught up in the panic and frenzy that is pretty much the entire movie.

Quarantine is probably one of the best horror flicks we've seen this year. Although it runs through the standard jump out of your seat moments, the fresh spin on a mysterious epidemic in a big city and the military's involvement combined our love for big guns and biological threats that need to be eliminated with sniper fire. Quarantine is terrifying, the premise is fairly believable, and it consistently delivers the scares even after you think you've seen it all. Granted the ending is a bit cookie-cutter, it'll give the typical moviegoer nightmares.

Our complaints are few and far between. One of our major concerns going into this one was the gimmicky, vomit-inducing camerawork that goes hand-in-hand with these flicks. Recall Cloverfield and that asshole who wouldn't put the fucking camera down and help kill some critters or Diary of the Dead and the epic fail moment when the gang decides to charge their camera's battery in a hospital overrun with braineaters. We won't even mention The Blair Witch Project.. Luckily, Quarantine does a good job of avoiding too much shaky cam and it doesn't look like it was filmed by someone with a bad case of palsy. Our other problem with this flick was the complete lack of a final girl scenario and unless you've been brushing up on your Carol Clover, we'll warn you now: this movie doesn't help the feminist cause in horror movies of late. If you're up for a nice scare, do yourself a favor, check out Quarantine, and tell Saw V to "suck it!!" And with that...

1. Is the CDC really trained to fire M4s with red dot sights?
2. Are mad scientists always up to no good in their attics?
3. Is handball actually the preferred past-time activity for firefighters?
4. Does nightvision always make that badass Splinter Cell/Buffalo Bill sound when it powers up?

Rambo

First of all, the 4^th Stallone Rambo film that came out earlier this year isn’t really called Rambo 4…its just Rambo (despite how an imdb.com search for “Rambo 4” yields this movie). You might be thinking “well damn, wasn’t the first one in the series called Rambo?” Nope– that would be First Blood. Then after that you have Rambo: First Blood part II…and the oddly ironic desert combat installment featuring the Taliban would be Rambo III. If this was more than you cared to know about the Rambo series you’re probably not alone. But we love details and also love Rambo, so we’re going to approach this review with a deep growling yell as if we ourselves were about to steer a tank into a Hind helicopter.

The film did moderately well, grossing a bit over $112MM internationally with a budget of $50MM. We thought this would be cool to review since it’s out on DVD and come on, it’s Rambo.

The story begins with choppy newsreels that establish the violence in Burma (a.k.a Myanmar) in a manner reminiscent of the intro to a zombie movie. So much so that you’re waiting for Johnny Cash’s “The Man Comes Around” to start up. But as bad as it looks, that a man (Stallone) will in fact come around, and kick everyone’s ass. This movie makes a good effort to bring the story of John Rambo out of the Cold War era and into the 21^st century....we guess. Its slightly more creative than Behind Enemy Lines 2: Axis of Evil.

Here’s the plot – a group of ignorant American church volunteers travel into war-torn Burma to help peacefully change things but get caught, resulting in their manager hiring a team of mercenaries, escorted by Stallone, to break them out of a POW camp. How is Rambo even involved? The nihilistic ex-green beret who spends his time as a boat captain and trapping snakes for cash gave them a ride up the river.

This flick mixes feelings of guilt, anger, relief and gruffly-delivered one-liners in a non-stop action packed 1.5hrs. This one is also pretty dark, bringing up the uncomfortable connotations of civil war in 3^rd world countries and the problems Americans face when they try to fix them (much like Tears of the Sun, Black Hawk Down or Blood Diamond). It’s also hard to miss the struggle to reconcile violence in a religious and humanitarian setting – the film beats you over the head with a rock (pun intended) but falls short of reaching a conclusion.

They must have also brought on a new gore guy for this movie, because its way more graphic and gruesome. In my mind I can hear Nathan Explosion grumbling “Brutal…”. People are essentialy meat sacks, and explode like the oozing zombies in Planet Terror. Add in a ton of guys, a boat vs. truck machine gun battle, a .50cal sniper rifle, a borderline rape scene and a knife kill, and you have a solid R rating. Rambo also holds the record in the Rambo franchise for the most kills, coming in at 262. Want some other ridiculously useless Rambo stats? Check out this link.

Also worthy of note – Stallone did a short Comcast spot explaining how this movie is about people in their most primitive state, morality, etc. which was interesting because none of those really come off clearly in the movie. Rambo was probably not intended for analysis, but if it makes it into a religious studies seminar out there let us know.

Questions we’re left with:

1) In what movie is the British SAS not badass?

2) Wouldn’t backseat gun turrets have a depression safety feature?

3) Our idea of a Stallone/Schwarzenegger combo for Rambo: Commando II = awesome? Thoughts?

p.s – Brace yourself for a Rambo V…hell yea, its in pre-production

I Want To Believe

This summer's been jam packed with enough nerdy goodness to make even Kevin Smith himself cream his pants. First there was Favreau's Iron Man that has pretty much guaranteed a steady flow of comic book movies for the next few years, then The Incredible Hulk, which tied everyone over until the long awaited The Dark Knight face fucked everyone under the sun. Even my seventy year-old grandma wants to see Nolan's opus. [Note: I'm quite aware that I just implied TDK face fucked my grandmother.] Needless to say, I was counting on X-Files: I Want To Believe to satiate my deepest nerdy desires even after being inundated with a barrage of superhero flicks.

We've been fans of the series for years and are surprised that more people aren't into the show, considering the recent explosion of sci-fi shows on television [Heroes, Battlestar Galactica, Dr. Who, Lost]. Much to our dismay, most kids these days don't give two shits about The X-Files, Chris Carter, or the fact that it lasted a respectable nine seasons on-air.. on Fox.. arguably the number one killer of most sci-fi shows in the history of broadcast television. What's more, the first film [in case you didn't realize one existed] hit theaters ten years ago.. TEN years. That's a decade people, and the show finished its run six years after that. Quite respectable, even if Mexican goatsuckers, little green men, or seeing Giovanni Ribisi turn Jack Black into a human light-bulb isn't your cup of tea. But enough venting..

I Want To Believe takes place six years after Mulder [David "I heart Pedigree" Duchovny and Scully [Gillian "Former Sexiest Woman in the World" Anderson] have left the F.B.I. Scully's the resident badass doctor at a children's hospital and Mulder's grown himself a Grizzly Adams beard. The rest of the movie is pretty simple: something weird goes down in West Virginia [big surprise right? it was there or New Jersey..], the F.B.I can't figure out what the fuck is going on, Xzibit shows up, and Mulder & Scully are on the case. Obviously, there's more to it than that, but Chris Carter's kept the subplots under lock and key, so I'll let you pay ten bucks and figure out what the all the hoo-ha is about.. That is, of course, if you want to. And you just might want to pass and catch a second viewing of The Dark Knight instead. Here's why:

This movie, no matter how much Chris Carter has promised otherwise, is for the hardcore fans. It's basically an extended version of the show's staple standalone episode [as opposed to the mythology or comedic variety]. That being said, I think this is the best thing about this movie: it's not trying to take the show and stylize it for the bigsreen, but instead you feel like you're sitting in an abnormally large living room watching an episode on SciFi on a huge plasma TV. The only thing this movie was missing was a few Geico commercials and a teaser for Eureka. Unfortunately, this is what's going to turn most people away. Despite the best attempts to include some kind of backstory, it just doesn't work out well. There are a ton of "fuck yeah!" moments, but if you're there on a whim, they're just gonna go over your head and leave you disappointed. The story isn't the greatest, I'll admit, but I enjoyed this flick simply because it was exactly what I was expecting, which isn't a lot for the usual moviegoer. Do yourself and the legion of diehard X-Files fans a favor and pass on this one if you can't tell the difference between a "Skinman" and a "Cigarette Smoking Man." And with that...

1. Why is West Virginia such a shithole?
2. Was that George W. Bush moment really necessary?
3. Are swimming pools the best way to pickup chicks?
4. Does Gillian Anderson in fact dislike scratchy beards?


P.S. If you're a fan of Battlestar Galactica, you're gonna get a nice little surprise.. So say we all!!

I'm Not There

Now, I'm the furthest thing from a Bob Dylan fan. In fact, I didn't know anything about the dude until I saw this flick, but only because I was so fucking confused that I had to make a mad dash to Wikipedia and enlighten myself. This helped. Sort of. I'm Not There is pretty much an artsy fartsy, mish mosh of beautiful imagery, great music, and a wank fest of stars: you've got yourself Christian "I'm Batman!" Bale, Cate "I can speak elven" Blanchett, Richard "I rescue hookers from the street" Gere, the late Heath Ledger, and the crowd pleasing David "I just blue myself" Cross. As Allen Ginsberg. Fucking weird, right? Well, that's pretty much what the entire movie is like. Just bizarre beyond belief, which is either a testament to the life and times of Bob Dylan or the desperate attempts to make this flick something other than an attempt to get a Dylan biography on the big screen without it seeming boring.

The flick follows six different aspects of Bob Dylan's life as protrayed by six different actors in six different non-linear timeframes with six different ways to confuse you. One second you're watching Blanchett play Dylan at the height of his popularity doing drugs in hotel rooms and then all of a sudden you're on a horse with Richard Gere trying to find his lost dog, like fucking Homeward Bound. This was cool and all because this meant I could see so many actors I like in the same movie without there being some kind of casino heist involved. The only problem was that this got tired quicker than Ben Stiller's entire filmography. Fuck that guy. Anyway, as we're strung along through different elements of the singer/songwriter's lifestyle - folksinger, activist, struggling musician, and recluse - we're also privy to surreal dreamscapes that paint the wacky world of Bob Dylan. It's clear through the images onscreen that there's some kind of inner turmoil that plagues Dylan and unfortunately his creativity as an artist only makes things worse. He's misunderstood, full of raw emotion, and does his best to express himself to a world that's eating itself alive. Dylan's dealing with an unpopular war all over the television, pop music stealing the limelight, and a President that's dropping the ball like it was New Year's eve. Sounds a little familiar.

I'm Not There wasn't bad, but it's just way too long for someone who isn't a Dylan fan, and frankly, I think that's being a little generous. The random juxtaposition of Dylan personas is just plain confusing. Unless you've got a crib sheet right next to you during this flick, you're better off just looking at all the pretty pictures and marveling at the heavy handed Bob Dylan quotes that saturate this movie. That and you get to see a whale eat a little boy. And with that...


1. How many fucking cigarettes did Bob Dylan smoke a day?
2. What are the odds of surviving a hobo dive from a moving train into a huge river?
3. Did The Beatles really just appear out of thin air in a big poof of smoke?

Mr. Brooks

Going into this one, I was expecting something kind of like an American Psycho/Silence Of the Lambs hybrid; now, this isn't too far from the truth, but it's just a hint of the genre fuck fest Mr. Brooks attempts to be. Kevin "I'm the last Postman on Earth" Costner is the movie's namesake, a charming family man and successful entrepreneur whose favorite past time is NOT baseball, favoring the less popular, but apparently more exhilarating, late night serial killing outings. Oh, and he also likes to make pottery. The glazed kind.

Within the first few minutes, the movie quickly establishes that Costner's character bumps elbows with the best of them, has a family that adores him, and has an imaginary friend that has more on his mind than a nude tea party in the Bluth family attic. After receiving the "Man Of the Year" award [????] Mr. Brooks treats himself and his alter ego, innocently named Marshall, to a double homicide involving a mid-coitus couple and a horny Dane "I once made out with Jessica Alba" Cook, secretly watching the act from his nearby apartment. And we're off!! The rest of the flick is a bit of a mess, as it follows:

1. Dane Cook's attempts to blackmail Costner for a course in Serial Killing 101
2. Mr. Brooks' dodging the long arm of the law, specifically that of the lovely, cradle robbing Demi Moore
3. Demi's nightmare of a divorce and the legal proceedings that follow
4. Mr. Brooks' daughter, who seems to have inherited her father's taste for man blood
5. Meeks, a pissed off killer on the lam seeking revenge on the previously mentioned cradle robber

The movie goes everywhere all the fucking time, and at times it's hard to keep track of why we need to be privy to such inane matters such as the haggling over Demi's divorce settlement or daughter Brooks' struggle with the fact that she's carrying the lovechild of a mystery man she met during a tryst midway through her freshman year. I understand that these subplots need to be there because they tie together all the loose ends, but these devices are so obvious it makes for a clunky, unnecessarily convoluted movie simply about a dude who enjoys killing people for a recreational activity, like fishing or whittling small wood figures that tell the future. The movie transitions awkwardly between moments that examine Coster's inner turmoil concerning his addiction to brutal slayings and other instances involving Demi having a little target practice in seedy motel hallways to The Matrix theme. Mr. Brooks is pretty much like taking Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer, Se7en, and American Psycho, throw them in a pot, add some broth, a potato, and make a nice stew, as per Carl Weathers' specific instructions. Except that it's not a nice stew, but more like a gazpacho [Note: I apologize to anyone who enjoys gazpacho or other cold soups].

I enjoyed the good majority of Mr. Brooks. Although it may not be entirely original, it's a fresh take on the serial killer genre made popular by Natural Born Killers and American Psycho. I would have liked to see Coster take out a few more people, maybe in like a dance club just like Tom Cruise in Collateral, or maybe Dane Cook piss his pants a few more times, but hey, I guess seeing a grown man wet himself once is all you really need. And with that...


1. Is it really that hard to shoot down a hallway?
2. Who's a more charming serial killer: Mr. Brooks or Patrick Bateman?
3. What's the return rate on an investment in a cemetery?
4. What's a better front for a serial killer: investment banker or box maker?