Super

Well! I’m back from hiatus with an all-new review for James Gunn’s Super, a dark comedy that manages to keep itself afloat despite its association with the now tired superhero genre.

What I have been doing: I’m a photographer and film maker, and recently we moved into our new studio space (yay!). However, that means MOAR WORK (read that to yourself about ten times, and you’ll get the idea). On a related note, we finally released a big-dreams-yet-subpar-results film that we made about 3 years ago. I am considering writing a friendly bashing of my own work. Seems fair, right?

Still from “Good Kids/Bad Kids”

I am also considering expanding The Eyewash Station to include reviews of all media types (commercials, music, print media). Expect more on this in the future.

In the meantime, here’s a long overdue review of one of the most unexpectedly enjoyable films that I’ve seen in a long while. May I present, Super.

If the name James Gunn sounds familiar, it’s probably because you are a fan of gorey horror flicks like his arguably most famous screenplay, Dawn of the Dead (2004 ), or perhaps from his long-standing relationship with the spectacular B-movie generators at Troma. Gamers might recognize his name from Suda51’s deceptively cheerful video game Lollipop Chainsaw (2012).

In retrospect, I’m not sure why I didn’t have faith in Gunn’s ability to pull off something as overdone as a superhero movie. I mean, what has he taken on that hasn’t been overdone? Zombies have been beat into the ground perhaps even more than superheroes – and yet his work has consistently brought a unique light to old themes (well, maybeDawn of the Dead was a little sparse on originality, but we’ll cut some slack since that was a remake anyhow). Additionally, Gunn seems to have a unique feminist flair that doesn’t get acknowledged as often as say, Will Wheaton – perhaps because he is also not afraid to embrace a strong woman’s sexuality. Who says we can’t have a whole damn family of super-skilled zombie hunter sisters and up-skirt shots, amirite?

To say that Super may be the most James Gunn-y film of all time is not much of a stretch. Writing and directing it, his fingerprints of weird are all over – from odd dancing cartoon intros to sporadic over-the-top SFX hallucinations and gore to Ellen Page raping the shit out of Rainn Wilson. Yep. I said it. But don’t worry, Rainn’s wife gets raped, too. Did I mention this is a comedy?

But, I digress. Let’s start at the beginning.

THE PLOT:

Rainn Wilson plays Frank Darbo, a generally shy and quiet grill cook whose only source of happiness is his wife, Sarah (Liv Tyler). We soon discover that Sarah is a recovering drug addict who married Frank while in the infancy of her sobriety, and that she has become involved with drugs again via stripclub owner and general douchebag, Kevin Bacon. Whose name in the movie is Jackques (‘Jock’), but whatever.

“Yum, nice eggs! Also, I’m fucking your wife and giving her heroin! Got any more orange juice?”

Frank has…ahem…..a bit of a meltdown when his wife disappears (he quite literally gets tentacle-raped by God).

“Tentacles!? I thought you said TEN TICKLES.”

And so begins his hallucination-fueled journey to get his wife back under the alter ego The Crimson Bolt, a home-made righteous hero that fights crime by beating it over the head with a wrench.

At this point, I think most people reading the plot on say, Netflix or Redbox or even the back of an actual physical DVD case (CAN YOU IMAGINE?!) stop there. Nothing special, right? I don’t blame you. I stopped there several times myself.

Thankfully, we are introduced to Ellen Page as Libby, a young comicbook store worker who figures out Frank’s secret identity and eventually becomes his kid sidekick, Bolty.

Full of swear and a thirst for violence, Libby pushes Frank’s buttons and advocates for extreme vigilante justice (killing the guy who might have keyed her friend’s car, but she’s not sure). Oh, and she rapes him. Did I mention this is a comedy?

After being raped by Ellen Page, Frank pukes in a toilet and has a vision of his wife calling to him for help. Like, literally the chunks in the bowl line up to make Liv Tyler’s face.

He decides that night is the night, and takes Bolty with him to FUCK SHIT UP at Jock’s house – where they massacre the living shit out of everyone.

THE GOOD:

This. Movie. Is. HILARIOUS. How do I emphasize that enough? James Gunn’s sense of timing and writing is impeccable, and this film is easily the best showcase of his work to date. Armed to the teeth with gritty material, I still found myself howling the whole way through. Well, except like, the rape shit. ‘Cause that was pretty intense. But other than that.

With a cast like Rainn Wilson, Ellen Page, Liv Tyler, Kevin Bacon,  Michael Rooker, and Nathan Fillion  – well, let’s just say that I am impressed, to say the least. Not only does each character have the right amount of star tracing for their role (Rainn is unattractive/unpopular; Ellen Page is kinda boyish; Nathan Fillion is a religious version of Dr. Horrible’s HammerMan) but they are the right amount of parody for their typical roles. It allows the viewer to easily fall into the expected aspects of the character, and be surprised by the extremity of traits counter to the actor’s usual (Riann Wilson beating people’s heads in with wrenches for cutting in line, anyone?). It’s actually quite a beautiful thing to see in a film – actors that are appropriately used for their fame while still showcasing and broadening their actual talent set.

Nathan Fillion has the Holy Avenger (and James Gunn’s cameo as the reoccurring demon)

Additionally, it’s always  refreshing to see such multi-facetted characters (smart, friendly, and a rapist; quiet, loving,and violent).

THE BAD:

Super suffers from something several hero-based movies have struggled with: the inability to blend comic book-styled graphics with the reality of the film. Although Super may get a pass under the guise of Frank’s clearly befuddled mind (complete with visions), it’s not quite enough to justify the sheer intrusion that these graphics can make. Other “comic-y” gimmicks (like fading to bright yellow) come off as stale or contrived. The best use was easily the BAM! WHAM! POWS! that accompanied the film’s climactic massacre, but even then came off as shallow and pandering. It also gave the film a distinct PG-13 feel despite the R-rating. Why suddenly back off the gore now, in the final minutes of the flick? Did the MPAA cry a widdle over the blood? I bet they didn’t bat an eye at Sarah’s rape.

Speaking of, it was a little strange to have two distinct rape scenes happening nearly back-to-back. One being the Ellen-rapes-Rainn scene, and the other being Sarah’s rape during the Crimson Bolt’s attack on Jock. The first one was a very quiet, emotionally charged and slightly horrifying event. Rainn Wilson cries and fights her the whole time, and even throws up immediately afterward.

Sarah’s scene, however, is almost thrown in as an extra. Was it not bad enough she was being used as a drug guinea pig? We have to have her get raped by the biggest, burliest black dude in the film? (who, might I add, is later called the n-word by Kevin Bacon – which fits his character, but still….) The trauma of the event for Sarah is hardly a blip on the film’s radar, except that she occasionally has nightmares.

While we’re on the subject, let’s throw in a huge THANK SPAGHETTI MONSTER that Rainn’s character, Frank, does not get raped and enjoy it. It would have been really easy, so THANK YOU, JAMES GUNN! for avoiding that horrible cliché that undermines actual victim experiences.

THE FINAL VERDICT:

I loved it. I’m recommending it to everyone I know. Go watch it, right now! (I promise I left out lots of details). Final score: 4 wrenches.

The Bay

You don’t need to dive into The Bay – it will pull you in like the tide. Delivering an unexpected thrillfest of dystopian creepy-crawlies, The Bay wriggles out of the jaws of its found footage format and lives to leave mark on viewers…hook, line, and sinker.

THE PLOT:

Claridge, Maryland. A small all-American town founded by an outlying fisherman that now fosters a growing chicken farming industry.

On July 4^th, 2009, an ‘outbreak’ occurred that wiped out over 700 people. It’s really the whole town, basically, but that was the last number I remember hearing. Amateur reporter Donna Thompson was present to report the usual holiday festivities and has spent the last few years attempting to re-gather the government confiscated footage of everything that transpired that night. We are walked through the story via a Skpye interview she is having (with? Why?) regarding her story and the compilation of footage she’s put together (aka, the movie itself) in an attempt to explain what happened that night.

You know it’s later in the plot ’cause her hair is longer!

What we find out via Donna’s increasingly needless droll is that scientists had discovered high toxicity levels in the water around Claridge previous to the outbreak. Although these reports had been sent to the appropriate channels (including the mayor who is – of course! – up for re-election), there had been no movement to alert the area or attempt to cleanse the water. That is, except for Claridge’s water purification plant-y thingamabob, which eases the minds of all around and has even managed to provide more resources for the chicken farmers! Fancy that!

The Thingamabob

Through the collected footage, we see Claridge’s tale unfold from a variety of perspectives – a couple coming in via boat to see the in-laws; dash cam footage from a cop car; conveniently recorded hospital-to-CDC Skype conversations; the eco-scientists video journals; a trespassing animal/eco-rights dude; and of course, Donna’s own “reporting” (I use that word loosely).

“As you can see behind me….wait….”

Also included: other miscellaneous footage that has washed ashore from other victims who never stop recording, even to the brink of death.

“I can’t…find…the off button!”

We learn that contrary to the initial assumption, the outbreak (skin lesions, feeling sick, confusion) was actually symptoms of a quickly growing, chicken-steroid-pumped parasite that is consuming its hosts from the inside out at a rapid pace.

The CDC and local medical community desperately try to save lives via amputation and other treatments, but ultimately these little buggers start chewing through people with silent cries of “Freeeedom!” until the whole town is left decimated, streets and corridors literally littered with hollowed out bodies.

Featuring Miss Crustacean!

THE GOOD:

I’m so sick of found footage movies that I could puke. However, in this case it serves the storyline well. It adds a flair of realism on a story that, although exaggerated, is legitly realistic (the effects of chemical runoff into mostly stagnant bay water). It also allows us to have justified characters that are introduced only to die and allows us to explore all aspects of the storyline (local experience, outside experience, scientific perspective, medical perspective, child’s perspective, etc.) while still feeling cohesive.

The special effects were notably not distracting. I hate nothing more than to get invested in a good horror-type flick, only to have a bad CG moment pull me right back out it. The Bay sticks to subtle post-needs and works them in well, without becoming overwhelming, allowing the plot itself to shine through.

A plot which honestly deserves to be highlighted instead of hidden behind scare tactics. There aren’t so much “jumps” as an overwhelming sense of dread and doom to the whole thing. The carnage feels inevitable and cringe-inducing in a primal way, instead of anticipatory and gimmicky.

THE BAD:

SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. DONNA.

Seriously, I do not need to hear you talk over things that are obvious. Here I am, enjoying some nice pleasant footage before everyone gets fucked in the arse by chemically-altered bugaboos, and suddenly Donna’s telling me “This footage makes me feel sad, because they’re so happy, and they have no idea what’s going to happen.” I know, Donna, that’s the fucking point! I mean seriously, I don’t need a movie telling me “this is sad” and “this is scary,” especially in your deadpan-ass voice. If I can’t tell it for myself, you’ve failed, filmmakers.

People on boats only make me sad because they make me realize that I don’t have a boat.

Most of my hatred is nitpicky – too much voiceover here and there; it sounds like Donna blames the mayor but it’s not really followed up on; what happens to the bugs after they come out of the peoples (they seem to scare everyone in the room and then we don’t see them again); as well as some climactic problems like, why would you film getting off the boat when no one is there and it’s dark and etc etc etc. (character motivation problems). The Bay attempts to explain a lot of these problems with off-shoot lines, but the excuses left me feeling unsatisfied.

See what happens when you fuck with science?! IT EATS YOU.

THE FINAL VERDICT:

The Bay gave me with creepy-crawlies in my belly and a sense of dread – what more can you ask for? This is a well-executed found footage movie and is worth the watch, despite the occasionally obnoxious deadpan voiceover telling you things you already know. The performances are solid and The Bay knows enough to not try to overdo itself. If you live near water or have a fear of things that crawl, watch this one before your next trip to the beach for a true Jaws effect.

Unfortunately, although solid, The Bay doesn’t stand out enough to warrant more love than a satisfied nod. Final score: 3.5 dead fishes out of 5

Oh, p.s. The parasites are real, and yes….they eat tongues.

Hobo With A Shotgun

Oozing homage and not much more, Hobo With A Shotgun screams 1970s-bliss in a majestically gory attempt to make a hokey script marketable to millennials.

THE PLOT:

In some crime-riddled alternate reality (or the reality that is now Detroit), a Jack-Nicholson-as-Joker knock-off named “The Drake” has decidedly taken over a mid-sized town via his ruthless/flamboyant scare tactics carried out by him and his Heath-Ledger-as-Joker and Jim-Carrey-as-Riddler sons.

Weirdly enough, they’re almost never on the screen all at the same time, although they are often together.

Since the plot gives us no real reason for The Drake’s violent reign, I can only assume that it’s because everyone was making fun of him for religiously clinging to his 1980s fashion sense and because actual Detroit was too competitive a market in terms of gangsters. Have you ever battled a Detroit gangster? Spoiler alert: you lose. As it turns out, The Drake has seemingly fallen into unquestioned power, allowing him to execute (har har) whatever brutish fantasies he can imagine while providing his faithful sons with a growing cocaine habit.

Big ol’ pile of cocaine

We meet our hero Hobo when The Drake decapitates Trailer Park Boys’ Ricky, The Drake’s (adopted? Because seriously, I don’t see it) brother, in a public display of something or other.

Before The Drake was introduced, I was 100% sure Ricky was going to be killed by Cyrus.

We actually never learn what Ricky did to deserve this savage death. Apparently, it’s unimportant. Hobo watches with a dumbfounded expression that we’ll soon learn to get used to as Rocky’s blood get smeared on some crazy lady’s titties. But mostly, we’re sad because his cart of bottles and trash got knocked over. Or, at least, I was. That was some hard work, man. Hard work! Like doing creepy bum type things for the guy with the camera in an attempted Bum Fights allusion (or rip-off) that are unnecessarily inserted throughout the film. Eat glass, bum! Eat it!

Recycling!

Anyway, I digress. Hobo addresses the crime problem – and by crime problem, I mean river and rivers of blood – by deciding that it would be a good idea to go into The Drake’s homebase and wander around the bum killing zone. You know, for fun! Or science. Whichever you prefer. He happens to save a particularly stupid girl who thought that backsassing a known murder would be a jolly good time.

OMG! Killing is, like, so last season!

They become friends, because clearly the hot girl is not going to fuck the old bum dude, so they can’t be lovers.

Hobo gets a shot gun and goes vigilante, claiming to purge the city of evil or some other type of crazy homeless man bullshit. Everyone else in the town seems behind this since they’re living in a semi-suburban Arkham City, and seem generally unconcerned with how the Hobo judges people, or that there’s a homeless man killing people in the streets. Either that, or the Hobo kills all his naysayers. Who knows? They’d be dead!

Oh, and Hobo shoots the dick off Heath.

Really? Is no one going to ask how he got the duct tape panties on him? Okay.

Fortunately, he gets shot right into a phone booth so he can make a call before he GTFO to hell in a burnt school bus (I wish I was making this up).

“Whaddya mean he won’t accept the charges!?”

The Drake is, understandably, not pleased about losing a son – the good son, no less. I mean, he was kinda Heath Ledger-y! Kinda.

Finally, the Hobo works his way up the criminal food chain…instead of just going to where the crime boss hangs out in the first place…and there’s an epic arena-style showdown between him and The Drake and sub-staring The Hooker Girl, who actually does some badass stuff with her arm stump (once her arm gets blown off) instead of her usual cower and hide.

Oh, were you expecting something more dramatic? Because it’s not. That’s all you get. Yep.

The Hobo kills The Drake but dies in a blaze of glory via the corrupt police squad, who in turn are mowed down by the gun-toting citizens watching from above. In the end, violence leads to violence and I can only wonder – why didn’t the citizens just kill The Drake themselves if they had so many guns?

THE GOOD:

Any fan of gore-porn style movies should love this flick (more on that later). I can’t even conceptualize how the writers came up with some of these slayings – heads impossibly put through manholes, barbed wire beheadings, bums eating glass and then picking up money with their bloody mouths while smiling, people getting beat like piñatas, hiding in carcasses from angry mobs, burning buses full of children – the list goes on.

Bloooooooooddddd! It tastes like money!

The script is terrible….ly awesome. Even bit parts like a Santa-clad pedophile watching children (“I’m going to cum down both your chimminies!”) get great lines. Prepare to have your mind boggled by the likes of, “It’s a beautiful day for a skate-rape!” and “I’m gonna wash away my blood… with your blood!” and “When life gives you razor blades, you make a baseball bat… with razor blades.” Basically, Hobo With A Shotgun is a montage of hokey gore and bad, bad writing done right and it reads like a live action one-off comic book.

He knows when you are sleeping….

Sticking with the 1970s cult-classic feel, the movie’s post-coloring doesn’t allow us to take the heavy subject matter too seriously – which serves the source material well. It’s as if the producers knew that their budget wasn’t going to cover the necessary blood costs and decided to go full-on cheeseball (a choice, I might add, that I support. Better to have an intentionally over-the-top homage film that’s trying something new, visually, than yet another under-budgeted wanna-be gore flick).

Abby missed the blood pathogen safety class, I see!

THE BAD:

Unfortunately, Hobo With A Shotgun’s “more is better!” attitude only gets worse as the film goes along. Instead of sticking to a comic-y but solid plot line with some great ‘bad’ lines and gore, we’re slowly introduced to less and less realism. First, it’s slow – Hobo in the operating room with wounded girl while nurse screams “LIVE, YOU FUCKING WHORE!”, Heath being taken to hell in a burning bus of children he killed – but it escalates quickly into introducing us to two mythical baddies called The Plague that seem to just exist to be….relatively scary?

Nothing says “Plague” like “Robots”

The gore itself will displease true gore fans by being overall ketchup-y and fake, with only moments of true gore realism – something desperately needed to make this film watchable, if not interesting. Sadly, it’s lacking, and the bad special effects intercut with the occasional realistic gore makes it all the more annoying for its inconsistency.

Ahhhhh! Koolaid!

Add this to the lack of cinematic integrity (matching shots? Jump cuts? Uhhh…) – which admittedly works at some key points, but it too consistent over the whole film and is too noticeable at key moments to feel intentional – and we’re looking at something that feels more collegiate fun project than professional endeavor.

Rutger Hauer (the Hobo) plays a convincing mildly-deranged hobo in the beginning. Unfortunately, his character doesn’t seem to develop as the plot does, leaving us with nothing to identify with. His suspicious, crazy-eyed gaze does not look good behind the barrel of a shotgun and only serves to make him look less mentally stable and less cinematically believable.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

The more he talks, the worse he gets. I would almost prefer that we see less of him, like some kind of ghostly crimefighter in the night, rather than deal with the crazy man babble I tune out while walking downtown.

I normally love Canadian films, but Hobo With A Shotgun was distractingly Canadian.  With no reference to the location of the film itself, having mobs attacking with hockey sticks and bad guys strutting around in un-called-for ice skates becomes a distraction factor.

Kill ‘im with sticks!

Normally, I love this kind of reference, but in this case, it fell flat.

THE FINAL VERDICT:

Hobo With A Shotgun hits the mark by paying tribute to the ol’ greats, but lacks enough of its own structural integrity to feel truly professional. The fact that this got into Sundance makes me both happy and a little worried. Although there’s some great moments and the script packs a punch, it’s the same one-two over and over. By the end, I found myself just wishing it would end. With a bit more attention to detail (and if it didn’t read like it was done by an overexcited, undereducated fanboy), Hobo With A Shotgun could have been a more profitable, true homage with wider audience appeal instead of the simply being ‘good enough’ for savvy filmies who enjoy the weak genre references.

Hobo With a Shotgun ultimately earns 2.5 shells out of 5.

Clay Pigeons

Pre-Gladiator Joaquin Phoenix battles psychotic widows and crazy cowboys in Clay Pigeons, an unexpected 2 hour indie-dark-comedy-psychological-crime-thriller-(BREATH)-fictional-drama from the director of Wedding Crashers and Shanghai Knights.

Needless to say, get ready for an interesting ride.

THE PLOT:

Small town Joaquin and his buddy Earl go up a-shootin’ in the mountains. What what’s this?! It seems that Joaquin has been sticking his dick in crazy – in this case, Earl’s beloved’s wife – and Earl is taking the opportunity to confront him at gunpoint. In a cowardly, rednecky display of brilliance Earl has planned to kill himself in front of his truck and frame Joaquin for murder. In some kind of attempt to make things better, Jaoquin says he doesn’t care about Mrs. Earl anyway – but it’s too late. Earl shoots himself in the heart, which I suppose is metaphoric.

“Goddamn it, Earl! Gun safety!”

Suddenly, POP MUSIC explodes through the scene, like a terrible song in your head at the most inappropriate time that makes it feel like your ears are bleeding. Thus begins the abuse and misuse of pop music that continues throughout Clay Pigeons, like an annoying juke box in the back of the room that you can’t turn off. Seriously, it feels like it’s not being used ironically as much as obnoxiously.

Anyway, Joaquin manages to pull of covering up Earl’s suicide due of small town idiot cops, but his problems are only just beginning. Earl’s widow, who is apparently Catwoman, expects to just jump back in the sack!

Meeeeeeow

What a slut! I mean, it’s not like they were sleeping together and lying to Earl, so clearly this is much worse now that he’s dead.

Catwoman is a particular brand of psychotic. If there was a crazy contest between her and Cameron Diaz from Vanilla Sky, Catwoman would win for her sheer embracement of the entire DSM. She’s controlling, manipulative, verbally abusive, and always has this smoldering look on her face like she’s burning holes in you and the sofa you’re seated on. Except when she’s getting fucked. Then she’s adorable for some reason.

Fuck me so I can forget myself!

Anyway, Catwoman starts making Joaquin’s life hell, and he decides to solidify his place in the Redneck Hall of Fame by smacking his bitch up in a bar. Vince Vaugh (character: Lester the Molester…not making that up), a drawling cowboy with a fake sounding accent, seems turned on by this and congratulates Joaq on his manliness.

‘Sup, stud

They hit it off until everyone starts dying. Everyone being hot, young females in your area that want to meet you now. They even find a body together and contaminate all the evidence!  They’re Body Buddies now!

Git ‘er done!

But, ce la vie the life of a trucker, Vince Vaugh and his cute hat have to scuttle on their way since he’s eskimo brothers with Joaquin and like, every girl dying. Suddenly Joaq is picked up on suspicion of murder (he’s so surprised! Hurp derp!) by the FBI.

“One I didn’t know, the other I just happened to know, Earl was suic- I mean an accident, and the last girl….well, fuck.”

About this time he gets mad (from what I can tell – I mean, all the expressions kind of look the same) and confronts Vince Vaugh (alone). It’s always intelligent to attack a guy you think is a murder, right?

Eventually it comes down to trusting or not trusting rednecks – Vince, who seems more southern than Joaquin, and the FBI trusting Joaquin and the Podunk Police Department. It’s all this interesting cultural hodge-podge of “why can’t we be friends?” Oh yeah, cause you’re a murdering cowboy.

Yeehaw!

THE GOOD:

Although occasionally plodding along at a cowpoke’s pace, the plot is good. Like a slowly evolving live-action Jerry Springer episode sans moderator, you can pop in Clay Pigeons and enjoy slutty best-friend-banging widow action with a murder to boot!

I’ll see you on daytime TV, bitch!

Just when you’re getting finished with one story line, another one is smoothly introduced.  Good balance of character types – strong women types of both the skanky and the intelligent variety, both dumb and smart farm boys, etc.

The casting and acting is great. Joaquin is not by any means one of my ‘go to’ actors, but he plays oblivious farm boy well. I didn’t realize that he was basically just absorbing everything with an occasional scowl until my second viewing – which sounds backhanded, but it is meant to be a compliment.

“No one understands me…”

Vince Vaugh, while lacking in accent, seems to have half a stiffy for playing Jack the Ripper. Not that I blame him – he does a fantastic job of being a creepy fake-charmer. He’s the kind of guy who is nice in a bar and you have no reason to not like him, but…you know. You know.

Classy

It’s great to see Vince playing a non-comedy role. I can’t say that I don’t think a more serious actor could’ve been cast and possible done it better, but the creep factor of having a well-known friendly face play filet with girl’s fun bags is a treat in and of itself.

THE BAD:

The music made me want to watch this movie on mute. Did Elvis come back from the dead just to retain the rights to his shit after this? Jesus Christ. Loud, badly matched, and intrusive. Even the composed music sounds plunky and distracting.

At times the indie aspect shines through and we’re faced with an abnormally purple sky or a slightly too seductive Catwoman that seems so spicy that I’m pretty sure A Serious Man stole Earl’s widow, grew her up, and made her the pot-smoking neighbor Mrs. Samsky…who I thought was supposed to be a little bit of an exaggeration, wasn’t she?

Left: Catwoman Widow. Right: Mrs. Samsky from A Serious Man.

THE FINAL VERDICT:

Great film that stands the test of time. I was really impressed with this early work of David Dobkin and wish we got this level of artistry and complexity out of him now that he does big studio junk like The Change-Up. I give it 3.5 cowboy hats out of 5.

Vanilla Sky

I can’t quite explain my dislike of Tom Cruise. Something about him screams real-life American Psycho and I spend 90% of his movies hypnotized by his crazy eyes and waiting for him to snap – as if it would be such a moment that they would re-write the script, keep the incident under wraps until they were in post, and then BLAM-O! Tom Cruise breakdown expose narrative film crossover extravaganza!

Seriously, this is what I spend a huge portion of Tom’s films thinking about. It’s distracting. So much so, that I often miss plot points because I’m so busy wondering when ol’ Tom will lose it. He looks pretty damn close sometimes.

I mean, look at that mug…that is not a sane lookin’ mug…

Needless to say, it’s difficult for me to get invested in the typical “all-American hero” Cruise roles (aka, most of his work) because I don’t buy him as a hero figure. As such, I didn’t expect to enjoy Vanilla Sky nearly as much as I did – a film that’s been recommended to me several times, but that I dismissed as just another Cruise flick. But thank the holy celluloid something! Someone finally put Tom’s cray cray to good use! Vanilla Sky took me on an epic tale and really showcased talent that I had sadly dismissed Tom from having.

THE PLOT:

Tom plays David, a publishing mogul and heir who seems to be experiencing some…technical difficulties. After a weird dream of an empty New York City, David wakes up to his perfect life, including fuckbuddy Cameron Diaz:

And non-threatening emasculated friend Banky (Jason Lee, who’s character name is actually Brian):

Through the upbeat late 90’s music, light laughter, and idealized magazine office humdrum we move until we are suddenly thrust into a suspiciously dark prison cell in which David stands on a table, and now has on a prosthetic latex face.

He is talking to a shrink who is notably bad at his job and has no mind for prison protocol. Oh, and Dave is being tried for murder.  We cut back to this a few times throughout the storyline just to make it even more ridiculous.

Now that the audience is thoroughly confused, we bounce back to David being Mr. Charming America, where he steals Banky’s exotic, bookish date Penelope Cruz. P.Cruz and T.Cruise bond over Cameron Diaz being a green-eyed monster when she shows up uninvited. Banky has a piddle party over being less manly than Tom Cruise. David manages to keep his boner soft even though Cameron Diaz puts on a brilliant display of some kind of manipulative, warped There’s Something About Mary routine that makes my skin crawl from the powerful creepies. Seriously, this girl is good. Mark one down for Robot Tom, because I don’t know how else he walked away from that. Instead, Sofia and David do bohemian things and bond about it so no one thinks she’s a gold digger.

Unfortunately, Cameron Diaz is more crazy pants than she wears pants, and she tries to kill both herself and David in a car “accident” by driving them both off a bridge in a display of some of the most epic psychoticness I have ever seen.

More proof that women can’t drive

David wakes up to a destroyed face and a destroyed life.

Uuuuuurg!

He goes through countless operations to get his face fixed and tries to make things work with Sofia despite the ginormous shitstorm that is his life. However, there are “inconsistencies”…you know, normal stuff like your face isn’t you face, and your girlfriend is the crazy bitch who tried to murder you in a car accident who happens to be dead. He goes a bit nutso and smothers Penelope Cruz/Cameron Diaz to death (death again?) with a pillow, and despite being told over and over that he killed Sofia…he sees only Julia.

Just a typical day with Tom

Which I suppose it why we find ourselves in a prison, now, isn’t it, David? (Fucking crazy bastard Tom Cruise…)

 Anyway, we go through a few impressive twists (Is he crazy? Is he framed?) and eventually Tom ends up at the Life Extension offices after working out some details with the hokey prison psychologist. He learns that he had been frozen (cryonic suspension) after his accident and he had actually been dreaming the whole damn time! The whole damn time being 150 years. There’s some ethical talk and stuff after that. Some nice tech support type things. You’ll probably recognize the Inception-y scene (note this came out in 2001, so this came out earlier!). Honestly though, it could be more crazy David logic because in the end he just jumps off a building. I mean, I’m just saying.

Ally-oop!

 THE GOOD:

 The opening sequence will suck you right in. The editing and sound work in this film is stunning throughout. I’ve always been a fan of movies that use lyrical pop music well, and Vanilla Sky uses it very well. The whole piece feels like it has an era, a tone to it.

Despite the temptation that might have existed (and if this was made modernly….probably would have happened), Vanilla Sky is shot and edited very simply. Things flow together not because they are edited together in some high-contrast fancy blob, but because it was thought about, and shot that way specifically (secondary movements). It really is a beautiful film of a certain caliber that I feel we don’t see much of anymore.

But the best part was the acting. I felt like Tom’s crazy eyes were perfect for this. Is he going to snap? Break? Cry? I love it! It works so well! Plus, his acting really stands out when he has the latex mask on covering his all-American face (sorry, Tommy!). It’s like watching Hugo Weaving in V for Vendetta – you don’t realize how physical an actor is until their face is covered. It was nice to actually be able to watch Tom and appreciate his skill, without being distracted by the crazy-eye factor.

 

Can you just wear this all the time, Tommy boy?

THE BAD:

 At times, Vanilla Sky feels a little long winded. However, it was made earlier than many of our “it was a dream!” movies. I believe this is second only to The Matrix. Even still, for the time, I understand the pacing. Plus, I feel that it highlights the acting more.

I do, however, wish that terrible green screen scene at the end had a recap section. Ugh. Too long, too boring, and not enough substance to the acting. Blech. Are you trying to teach me a moral, make me think of one myself, or what? Get on with it already.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!”

The ending does feel a smidge like a cop out. Although the concept is solid, the way it was presented didn’t feel genuine to the source material. Suddenly we’re on top of a super tall building in the purple clouds and blah blah blah? Tom’s dreams earlier were in an abandoned New York! And what about the weird moment in the bar where everyone stopped talking? I don’t get why “dream” suddenly became “purple cloudy mountain-y time” when the other dream-like sequences were much more true to an actual dream experience.

 

“Wait…are we still filming the same movie? Just checking.”

THE FINAL VERDICT:

 I’m glad I finally got around to watching this film. Is this the performance Tom’s been riding on for the last few years? It’s nice. It’s really nice. Now can we get him to wear that mask all the time? That’d be great. Thanks.

I give Vanilla Sky 4 purple fluffy clouds out of 5.

Interview with Byron Lane (of Herpes Boy)

Byron Lane, writer and lead of indie Herpes Boy, stumbled across my recent review of his film and agreed to take some heat himself by letting me grill him in an interview:

First off, thanks for agreeing to do this interview! How meta is it that we were able to work this out over the internet because of Herpes Boy, when connecting over the internet is a huge subplot in Herpes Boy? Technology is awesome!

Technology is awesome!  I really am so grateful that you checked out our movie and liked it enough to write a review.  I guess you could have also hated it enough to write a review, but it seems you had a fun time and the parts you wrote about that were not as fun, seemed fair.  Anyway, sincerely, thanks for checking it out!

Alright, I have to ask: What on earth possessed you to name the film Herpes Boy?

We had lots of debate about whether to call it Herpes Boy or change the name to “Birthmarked” or something like that.  But, it started as a web series called Herpes Boy, so we stuck with it.  I think it helped us by catching people’s attention.  When Beth Grant was approached to play the mom, she was told, “It’s a movie called Herpes Boy…” and she said, “Stop right there!  That’s the title?  Herpes Boy?  I’m in!”  Haha.  Maybe the title turns off some people.  Oh, well.  My dad still hates to say the title.  He just says “your movie.”

Beth Grant sporting her Herpes Boy press pass swag

Rude is unique because of his facial birthmark. Where did you get the idea to have your lead character like that?

I wanted him to have some physical characteristic that made him interesting. Something beyond glasses or a unique haircut.  When I saw a beautiful lady at a Starbucks with a birthmark on her face and I thought, “that’s it!”  I bought some lipstick from Rite Aid (embarrassing!) and found the right color, and there you go!

Are people ever surprised when they meet you in person for the first time after seeing Herpes Boy, and you don’t have a facial birthmark? Do they ever say you look like Elijah Wood?

I have had business meetings after the movie came out and the people I was meeting said, “Oh, sorry, I was looking for the guy with the birthmark.”  Lots of people thought it was real.  That’s the magic of Rite Aid lipstick.  Haha.

I get Elijah Wood all the time– or, I should say, I get FRODO all the time!  I wish I got more Elijah, but oh well.  Haha.  I’ll take either.

Byron Lane, out of make-up

Had you always planned on playing Rude? 

I did always plan on playing him.  I imagined if it was ever a TV series (that’s what I initially planned for it) that someone else, someone younger, would play him.  But it was a blast.

What was the most challenging part of acting in a piece that you wrote? How much influence did you have as a writer on set?

There were a few small challenges when the director and I would have different visions of a scene.  But most of the time, we both brought ideas to the table and it made things better. The director and I are friends, so we were very open and communicative and big on working together to make the best movie possible.

Byron Lane and Ahna O’Reilly at the Austin Film Fest, where Herpes Boy sold out both screenings

If you could change anything about Herpes Boy, what would it be and why?

Gosh.  I would change plot points.  It was the first screenplay I ever wrote.  I didn’t know anything about structure.  I’d maybe give Rudolph a bit more depth and personality (currently his main personality is “annoyed”), but I’m really happy with how it turned out for my first time.

What ended up being totally different than you expected in the final piece?

I had a different view of brother Mike, but I LOVED what actor Zack Silva did with the character.  Zack was really a pro, shaving an “M” into his hair for “Mike.”  That was not in the script.  He was great!

Herpes Boy panel at the Austin Film Fest

Any upcoming flicks we can expect to see you in? Are there any new scripts you are scribbling away on right now?

Because of Herpes Boy, I got an agent, booked some commercials, and I’ve done some other indie films in which I have small roles.  I’m writing some TV pilots right now and hoping to see where that leads.  I love being in Hollywood and I’m having a great time!

Thanks again for taking the time to do this interview! Can’t wait to see what you have in store for me to review in the future! Much love!

Street Thief

Heist movies are the Pretty Woman of the criminal world. Even hokey, over-dramatic, or poorly acted heist stories win us over because something tribal in us wants to believe in the crook-with-a-heart-of-gold. He’s just stealing millions of tax payer money for his estranged daughter or something, right?

Enter Street Thief. Shedding the burka of “you must do good or you are bad!” this mockumentary dares to follow a thief who steals because he’s goddamn good at it. And if you don’t like it, you can GTFO.

THE PLOT:

Street Thief is deceptively simple.  An entry-level camera crew is filming Kasper Karr (not to be confused to alter alias Kasper Carr – duh!), a Chicago-based burglar who lives like swag trumps character and his reasons for thievery are points on Who’s Line Is It Anyway? (hint: they don’t matter).

Although he’s temperamental and seems to harbor some resentment for his buddy-buddy camera crew, Kasper always keeps his cool. He has his trade down to a science – or so we think – allowing us to see his routine of scouting out a mark (sometimes for weeks on end), preparing windows and doors for entry, and eventually the hit itself.

Money, money, money!

However, Kasper is not always as cool or calm as he seems to be. Underneath his mirrored sunglasses are the secrets he refuses to tell. At times he changes his routine without explanation.  When the camera catches him in the midst of a larger scheme, he disappears without a trace and leaves his bumbling camera crew to fend for themselves.

THE GOOD:

 Although technically shot a la “found footage,” Street Thief reads much more like a documentary than The Blair Witch Project.

Unlike some mock/documentaries that rely heavily on voiceover, the only explanation in the narrative that we have is from Kasper (and occasionally some appropriate schedule/clarifying questions from the crew). That means if Kasper isn’t talking – you might not know, or you better be paying attention to the footage.

He has a habit of just….doing stuff, and you have to watch to know what is going on.

Personally, I think Street Thief would have gotten dull really fast if we had some high-and-mighty voice-from-the-sky talking about ethics. Like I don’t know stealing is wrong? I’m glad that idea fucked off before it even existed. Relying on Kasper was the smart thing to do.

Plus, it added realism to Kasper’s character. In most films, there would typically be a cathartic moment where Mr. Thief finally breaks down and opens up about himself and his childhood and etc., probably at a really inconvenient time, while people like me yawn and wait for the thievery to start again. This isn’t Ocean’s Eleven, this is Street Thief! Kasper is from the street! Literally, he would rather disappear than tell the camera what is going on. He has no obligation to anyone but himself. It makes him a unique character in cinema, and I like it. It’s so simple, that it’s better.

I don’t gotta tell you shit. I’m rich, bitch!

Also, for you film geeks out there….this whole thing pretty much takes place at night, either outside or in dark (unlit) buildings. “Deceptively simple” is the perfect way to describe the lighting. It’s invisible – which is perfect – and creates the ideal atmosphere. 10/10 on lighting.

 THE BAD:

 There are two problems with having such a stoic main character:

One is that there is minimal emotional arc to the story, making it less engaging. If you’re watching a heist movie with someone who is not into capers, at least they might relate to the “I’m helping pay my girlfriend’s medical bills” part. Street Thief is a purist film. You don’t like thieves? Probably not going to like this movie. It’s unapologetic and there’s nothing here for you if you are looking for remorse.

Kasper don’t give a shit!

This also means that the entire arc of the story lies in the actual physical actions of the character(s) – which could be good or bad. It really depends on your investment level.

Investment level during safe destruction: high!

Investment level during yet another car scene: not so high

The other problem is that sometimes, it gets a little stale. How many times can a camera dude ask Kasper to open up, and he gets mad and says no? Like 100? It feels like it. Seriously, camera dude, cut that shit out. He said he wasn’t going to tell you why he steals, so stop asking.

THE FINAL VERDICT:

 I enjoyed Street Thief. Although I think at times it lagged and that it could have used a bit more personality than “I’m a thief, nothing more!” from Kasper, over all the experience was a good one and the execution was the best it could be given the emotional shallowness of the concept and characters. Final score: 3.5 bundles of cash out of 5.

Butter

This week I’m giving you a feel-good-indie two-fer! Following up Byron Lane’s Herpes Boy is Butter, a Midwestern-set, playfully racial warm-and-fuzzy comedy that will have you thanking evolution you’re a liberal and making you think a lot more about the physics of butter than you ever imagined possible.

THE PLOT:

Somewhere deep in the corn rows of Iowa is the quietest, calmest foster girl that ever existed. She happens to be black and her name is Destiny.

While being passed from home to home, she discovers her love for butter carving via an exhibit by local celebrity butter carving champion Phil from Modern Family (Ty Burrell). It turns out she is some kind of butter sculpting prodigy child, but no one really freaks out about it or anything. She does get some approving white people smiles.

Her supportive, probably Portlandian foster parents allow her to enter in the annual butter carving contest. As it turns out, this is the year that Phil (whose name in Butter is actually Bob) has been asked to politely step down and allow someone else….anyone else….to be the next Lord of All Things Butter. Although Bob has no problem peaceably giving up his title, his ultra-conservative wife (Jennifer Garner) refuses to allow the family to lose the “prestige” that comes with being the royal family of butter.

Bob thinks his wife is a cunt as much as everyone else does and is fucking around with Quora from that Tron that no one is sure is a sequel or a remake (Olivia Wilde). Owed money from their little transaction, Quora (okay, okay….Brooke) starts harassing Bob’s family until she gets paid, including enrolling herself in the butter carving competition.

The contest commences, judged by Phyllis from The Office. However, Cunty McMature gets made that she lost to the 10-year-old reincarnation of Buddha and rigs it so that she has a rematch against the well-mannered child at the county fair (big stakes, ya’ll!).

Although LaCuntra tries to sabotage Destiny’s butter art, the little-child-that-could lives up to her name and everyone likes her better. Presumably because she is the next Dahli Lama and because she didn’t make a butter sculpture of a president getting sniped.

THE GOOD:

Great performances all around. With a less experienced set of actors, this film really could have gone to shit quickly. The cartoon-y characters read well on the screen and the whole film carries a tone of Bryan Fuller’s Pushing Daisies. Suburban dystopia is portrayed in a loving manner. Butter is American as fuck.

I’m just so America!

Butter also did a great job of keeping itself fresh by switching gears – at times being over the top comedic, other times laughing through observation, and other times giving  you butter porn and art porn with which to rot your mind. Between race jokes and political satire, Butter will leave you with a smart reside even if the meat of it is saturated with on-the-nose humor.

THE BAD:

The reason I picked the term “playfully racial” is because Butter is the type of movie to bring up race issues as a snarky joke, but then back out of it and not address any of the issues further. Does Destiny feel different being black, or does she just say things about white people in her head? Is Butter trying to say something about race, or is it just using race for some quick jokes?

One of these things is not like the other…

I also felt that Destiny’s performance was pretty flat. It was as if I could just project anything onto this hollow girl. There was so much more emotion out of her in some of the outtakes. Admittedly, it’s hard to hold the screen against the likes of Olivia Wilde and Ty Burrell, but at times it felt that Destiny had no personality at all. She didn’t even react to things happening so much as stare blankly at them. Maybe the director was afraid to director her to be “black” or more spunky or something. But seriously, a kid should have some energy or after a while it’s almost creepy.

Don’t be shy! It’s butter, not watermelon. You can tell her to pretend to like it more.

Butter also runs on a little long. Do we need two county fairs? Can’t we just do this competition in one big swoop? Do we really need to get that much into Bob and Laura/Cunt’s relationship when it’s clear she’s just the basic cut-out of the bitchy wife? Skip the small talk and stick to the interesting parts. I didn’t watch a movie called Butter to watch a semi-goth “troubled teen” not want to be in the butter legacy. Fuck off, then!

“I hate being rich!”

THE FINAL VERDICT:

 Butter is a solid film with great casting and performances, but could stand to have the fat trimmed form it (and perhaps pumped into Destiny’s personality). You won’t find anything surprising when the down-and-out ethnic kid wins the contest against the angry controlling wife, but it’s a well-shot journey and the cultural accents and political commentary make the sub-par story line dealing with. Final score: 3 sticks of butter out of 5.

Herpes Boy

Occasionally an intriguingly titled flick pops up where, despite the nagging voice in the back of your head, a louder (and often drunken) voice wins out demanding that you MUST KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. May I present Herpes Boy.

Although low-budget and sometimes campy, Herpes Boy is endearing, and the commentary on viral society is hilariously spot-on.

THE PLOT:

Writer/lead Byron Lane plays Rudolf (“Rude”), an anxiety-riddled teen who deals with his social awkwardness by posting video blogs to some sort of Facebook/Youtube/OkCupid hybrid site. His main topics of interest are his ostracization brought on by his facial birthmark and his suburban family life, which consists of his meathead brother, religious mother, antisocial grandmother, and well-meaning father.

Not pictured: Dead dad

When extended family converges after Rude’s father unexpectedly dies during a routine toe operation, Rude is suddenly faced with his obnoxious wannabe actress cousin overtaking his budding video channel.

I think there was some kind of life lesson learned or something along the way….I don’t really remember. Stand up for yourself? Don’t be a dick? There’s another patchy-faced person out there just for you? Something like that. Maybe all of those things. You get what I mean.

She’s just as deadpan and awkward as you! ❤

THE GOOD:

Herpes Boy isn’t the most unique film you’ll ever see, but the awkward comedy is well executed. Rude has legit reasons to feel like an outsider that backs up his teen moodiness and is paired nicely against his white, white family.

The whitest family you know

No one is a clear villain so much as the plot is a series of clashing personalities (or should I say, personality disorders).

The tongue-in-cheek approach to pointing out the innate comedy of internet interaction was flawless and delivered with a quick wit. If you don’t get it – sorry, but this film isn’t slowing down just to explain its side jokes to you. Smart viewers will appreciate not being spoon fed despite the innocent appearance of this coming-of-age comedy.

THE BAD:

At times, the plot doesn’t feel focused.  Blame the lack of villainy. Or, maybe this was meant to be as Coen-style comedy, but then it feels like something got lost between the writer and the director (kind of impressive when your writer is your main actor).

You mean…we *didn’t* need to see the whole section with the strategically placed black co-worker/friend and her nephews?!

The dramatic family feel-goods get up’d a little too much for my liking. The cheese doesn’t sit well with the snarky approach to depicting other aspects of life, and comes off false.

THE FINAL VERDICT:

All things considered, Herpes Boy is a solid indie flick. Although a unique story, it feels a little false and at times I wondered if this story would have been better in book form. While the comedy kept me entertained enough to get through the whole piece, the cheesy drama pulled me out of the story and pushed the limits of my attention span. With a bit more budget a stronger producer (especially one that will nip those terrible tag lines in the bud!), the makers of Herpes Boy should have some solid films in the future. Final score: 3 cams out of 5.

Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie

I once told myself a beautiful myth that all terrible film makers somehow get filtered by the system. Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie is proof that this is a lie.

Somehow after millions of years of evolution, we’ve managed to reduce our entertainment down to this over-budgeted shit-crusted pile by two able-bodied but possible challenged persons. If only celluloid could be recycled.

THE PLOT:

Two idiots get a billion dollars to make a movie and instead spend it on hair plugs, fake tans, and hiring Zach Galifianakis as a spiritual guru. Then, they shockingly get in trouble for this! (Gasp. Not.) To pay back their debt, they buy a wolf-and-hobo-infested, dilapidated mall run by Will Ferrell.

Nothing really works out and pretty much every one dies. We learn via text Tim and Eric go to jail. Roll credits, watch something good to purge your mind.

THE GOOD:

Tim and Eric do well riding on the coattails of persons more skilled than they are. The survivability of this film (by which I mean, I survived and did not kill myself during it) was based solely on the diligent work of better actors.

Zach Galifianakis plays a slightly flamboyant spiritual guide who has transcended enough to appear in the stars and do other various things. The concept is stupid, but Zach’s execution of the role is fine. He’s adorably over-sensitive and the only character who seems to genuinely generally give a shit about Tim and Eric. They, in turn, ban him from their life, so the brief glimmer of interest is snuffed out early on.

Will Ferrell does his Ferrell-y thing. His post-apocalyptic mall manger days have broken him down into a creepy combination of lonely and PTSD. He overshadows Tim and Eric tremendously, in screen presence and ability, and seems occasionally bored by the script/scenes. What is this, acting like an audience member? Get with it, Willy!

John C. Reilly plays another one of his adult-playing-a-child roles (oddly, an uncredited role, since he’s in 60% of the film). I wouldn’t be surprised if JCR had a diaper fetish. I can’t remember the last time I saw him play a functional, adjusted adult and not an adult that is somehow a teen or a child. As Taquito, he’s been abandoned in the mall and lived off expired frozen food and built a home with the hobos. He’s generally whiny and repetitive, but if you get off on JCR acting like a baby as much as JCR seems to, wank away to this self-masturbatory role.

There was one scene in particular I really liked. Tim and Eric are trying to come up with a business name, and since they are “guys doing business,” they shorten that down to “Do Biz” which then becomes “Dobis”. This, as a marketing/business person, was hilarious to me. But, that was about 5 minutes of the film. Related to that is a fake Dobis orientation video that’s not bad either.

THE BAD:

Where to start? The plot, the acting, the editing?

I understand that Tim and Eric have their own unique style that plays on the cheese-factor of bad cable TV. I get that. But, there are ways to do that well, and there are ways to just fail. Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace (from some of the people involved in the making of The IT Crowd) is a great example of this. Tim and Eric, on the other hand, do the gimmick in the most obnoxious way possible. Jittering jump cuts over and over; flat line delivery (which works for shorts/skits – not really for an hour and a half) that ends up feeling stale instead of funny; concepts extended well past their humor point. Tim and Eric work better as a Youtube oddity channel than as a funded feature.

That this was funded is insane to me.

As a side note, for any film makers out there, if your film feels tedious as is…..do not have long, arduous death scenes at the end of the movie. It just makes it feel like your film won’t die the same way the character won’t. I end up cheering for blood shed just to end the monstrosity. Die, motherfucker, die! Anything to end the pain of watching this shit basket any longer!

Why won’t you die?!

THE FINAL VERDICT:

This movie made me groan at every scene change because it wouldn’t fucking end. It’s like rape for your mind. Just watching it will make you dumber, and a worse film maker.  I don’t even think that lovers of Tim and Eric (the show, the shorts) will like this movie. My advice to the tubby twosome: stick to shticks, and leave movie making to the professionals. You get 0.5 dollar signs out of 5 – and you can thank your Dobis joke and Zach for that.