Thank you, Mr. Ford.

[Source: Deadline]

Can you smell that? The excitement. In the air. It hangs over this announcement as a fine musk. As sort of a sultry fog that reminds me of the bathrooms in junior high or the aroma of a paper mill that wafts over the area, making everything smell like rotten eggs and farts.

Sure, your brain gets excited because your nose is receiving new information, but the fact remains that it still fucking stinks, which is exactly what Hulu does.

The good news is that you may be able to watch some new things on your Wii and/or 3DS soon. The bad news is that, unless huge changes have been made, Hulu Plus is still a bag of trash.

[Source: Techcrunch]

I could say a lot of things about the new trailer for The Avengers. One of those things is, “Holy explosions, Iron Man!” because holy hell, that was a lot of exploding. Don’t take my word for it, look!

From the looks of the trailer, Earth is invaded by explosion monsters from space or something. From what I’ve actually read, it has something to do with Loki, the god of mischief, coming down to wrangle up some mischief. Mission accomplished, Loki. Explosion-based mischief accomplished.

Ultimately, my suspicion is that this will be the hugest fan-service movie ever created, what with Joss Whedon at the helm, both writing and directing. Joss Whedon, for those of you who’re completely unaware was the guy behind some of the greats of the last so many years including, but not limited to, Firefly and Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-long Blog.

Between him and the fact that they got Robert Downey Jr. back, sign me up. I’ve honestly no idea how they’re going to pull this off, but I’m more than willing to give it a chance and enjoy the ride. 2011 was a great year for Marvel movies, and it’s looking like 2012′s not going to be so bad, either, at least where The Avengers is concerned. The rest of the releases, however… not looking so optimistic. Ghost Rider is getting a sequel (with Nicholas Cage), and that Spider-Man movie looks terrible. I’d just like to reiterate Ghost Rider is getting a sequel.

The Avengers still looks fine. Let’s just focus on that and maybe that other crap will squeak by like a weak fart.

As I’m sure you’ve heard, Netflix has decided to launch their DVD service as a brand-new company called Qwikster. This has caused quite a stir, much like Netflix’s price hike earlier this year, and idiots people are angrily, and incoherently sputtering all across the internet, “What is wrong with you jerk-offs!?” Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as Netflix being greedy or their CEO, Reed Hastings, suddenly going verifiably insane.

Netflix is under tremendous pressure because studios want more money to license the movies and shows that people love so very much. As it turns out, when a product is in demand, and being the middle man is your primary business model, whoever is supplying that product has you bent bare-assed over his giant, pinstriped knee. Netflix doesn’t create any content, so it means studios can hold out for higher rates, while Netflix is left begging like a snot-nosed infant howling for candy and a diaper change.

In fact, that’s almost exactly what happened when Netflix and Starz couldn’t come to a rate agreement not long after Netflix hiked subscription rates. What people don’t seem to understand is that the mailing subscription business is slowing harder than the streaming service:

Netflix said it now expects 800,000 fewer DVD-only subscribers. It expects 200,000 fewer streaming-only members than it previously forecast.

This is partly the result of the price hike, but it’s likely also customers bailing on DVDs altogether. I see the Qwikster split as Netflix protecting their necks. So what is Qwikster providing that Netflix didn’t?

Video game rentals.

Suddenly, I have a reason to be interested in receiving things by mail again. As far as I know, only Blockbuster and Gamefly do video game rentals by mail, so this is Netflix (Qwikster) setting foot in a market they didn’t have before. And if Netflix’s history with Blockbuster is any indication, Blockbuster can look forward to getting spanked harder than a studio exec at his weekly dominatrix session. The other thing is that Gamefly only does video games, so if Qwikster winds up having a decent selection and a lower price point, Gamefly might have some competition. Plus, if I can order games or movies, I have every reason hit up Qwikster for that.

Ill will aside, Netflix has always been great for me, so rather than immediately blow up and rant and rave and piss and moan, I think I’ll reserve some cautious optimism and hope for the best. So far, the biggest downside I see to the whole thing is not being able to easily add movies from your instant queue to DVD, but honestly, if they don’t figure out a way to easily do that, maybe they really have lost their minds.

Even then, physical media is on the decline, so think about what’s actually going on before you break your head off in your own, angered ass. This might actually make sense for Netflix as a service and as a company as a whole. If not, you’re probably welcome to take your business elsewhere. Seriously, Reed Hastings told me that. He also said he was sorry and he’d do anything to keep you, baby… please don’t go.

Indulge me for a moment and take a leisurely stroll to a more innocent time when our vision of the future was only limited to whatever Robert Zemeckis told us. Walk with me, if you will, back to the sunny year of 1989. I was a skinny, bright-eyed 8 year old when Back to the Future Part II hit the theaters, but the message it delivered so clearly was this: So long as Biff didn’t fuck everything up, we were going to have hover boards and awesome, self-tying shoes.

Things have changed, and that skinny little scamp has developed a beer gut, and the bright eyes have gone steely with cynicism and the crushing reality of the world, but one thing has never changed: I have always believed in Marty McFly. Finally, like some sort of beacon shining in the sky, like a reward from once forsaken gods, Nike has lived up to the promise they made to kids all over the world some 21 years ago, and they’ve announced that they’re releasing the 2011 Nike Mag, Marty McFly’s self-tying shoes.

Sure, Mattel has been slacking in the hover board department, and we may not have self-drying clothes, but I’ll be goddamned if we’re not getting auto-tying shoes.

WOOOOOO! We live in the future! USA! USA!

Let’s get back to the hard reality that is the future/present for a moment, if we can. Based on demand I’ll tell you one thing right now: these things are going to be fucking impossible to get. We’ve been waiting over 20 years for this moment. Imagine the iPhone 5 dispensed blowjobs and 99.1%, Breaking Bad, Walter White grade meth. Now imagine the iPhone 5 was a self-tying shoe, and you’ll know exactly how unobtainable these goddamned future shoes will be.

Regardless, you’re looking at one cold-eyed, cynical bastard who squeeled with glee and busted out his credit card today ready to—wait what? They’re not available yet, there’s only going to be 1,500 of them and they’re going to be auctioned off on eBay? Yeah… so I knew they’d be impossible to find, but not 1500 being made, period impossible to find.

Thanks, Nike. You got my inner child to come out of hiding just long enough to give him a wedgie.

[Source: The Associate Press]

Brett Ratner has come out and said that he approves of Eddie Murphy hosting the Oscars. You may remember Brett Ratner as the director of X-Men: The Last Stand, which sucked so hard it shamed the X-Men franchise into rebooting. Eddie Murphy, of course, is the once-amazing comedian who took so many bad roles, it’s a wonder he’s even alive let alone working. And the Oscars, naturally, is the awards show that no one but Hollywood stars with massive egos care about.

All things considered, Eddie Murphy will probably do a good job of hosting. His stand-up was amazing when he actually hit the stage. I’ll never forget his special, Delirious, but that may be more due to the red, skin-tight leather suit he wore for the performance.

A younger Eddie Murphy, catching a glimpse of the Norbit trailer.

Crap-ton of bad movies or not, I want Eddie Murphy to succeed. There’d be nothing greater than to see him back on top of his game. Remember Beverly Hills Cop? Coming to America? It’s been sad to watch him drift from children’s comedy into a bunch of shit that no one watched. Seriously, Eddie… Norbit? Meet Dave? Is there a drug addiction you’re feeding that no one knows about? Reach out for help if you need it, Eddie. No one still judges you for that transvestite thing.

But Brett Ratner? I don’t even know why he’s commenting on Eddie’s hosting at all. How is Brett Ratner, of all people, qualified to determine if someone can host an awards show? Let me answer that for you: he’s not. He’s directing a movie called Tower Heist starring Eddie Murphy and Ben Stiller and he’s looking for a bit of free press. Here you go, Brett!

I was going to write something about how horrible Tower Heist is likely to be, but I don’t have to, you can go watch the trailer yourself.

This Miami Herald article, however, had one quote in it more disturbing than anything Tower Heist has to offer:

The two talented guys (Ed note: referring to Murphy and Ratner) are also working on Beverly Hills Cop 4, for 2014.

Awesome. Because what we need is a 50-year-old Axel Foley wheezing around Beverly Hills while a geriatric Judge Reinhold does his best to look as incompetent as he always did. Ratner killed X-Men to the point that they had to reboot the damn thing, maybe he’ll manage to accomplish the same for Beverly Hills Cop. I’m not usually a fan of reboots, but I’d probably give up my left nut to watch Donald Glover give Axel Foley a go.

I'll bet you cash right now he could whip out that famous Foley laugh in a split second.

[Source: The Miami Herald]

Shockwaves of impotent rage rippled through the internet yesterday as footage from the new six-movie Star Wars Collection on Blu-Ray surfaced featuring Darth Vader, reprising his unfortunate (and hilarious) “NOOOOOOOOOO!” from the end of Revenge of the Sith. Here is the actual, unfortunate, Blu-Ray clip:

Jesus. As other people around the internet have mentioned, this is upsetting. That moment was perfect as it was, right? He just silently made the decision (you can see it through the mask) and tossed that old, lightning-spewing bastard down a conveniently-placed pit. Classic Vader.

Like most of you, I grew up watching Star Wars. My dad and I used to have lightsaber duels in the living room, while I ran around doing my best Mark Hamill impression. Ironically, this consisted mostly of screaming “NOOOOOOOOO!” and swinging a light saber around. Some things never change.

At any rate, Star Wars was a huge part of my childhood. Even my adolescence. I have fond memories of playing Star Wars: Shadows of the Empire on the N64 growing up. Really, Star Wars was awesome right up until George Lucas shit the bed with The Phantom Menace. And even when he wasn’t ruining his Star Wars legacy with shitty new movies, he was busy sullying the original trilogy. Adding dewbacks where dewbacks once weren’t. MAKING GREDO SHOOT FIRST. Not even this stupid-looking digital Jabba seems happy about that bullshit:

He also looks like he might've been groped a little.

What I’m saying is that George Lucas has been shitting in the race car bed of our collective youth for more than a decade. Now, I understand you’re mad, I understand it’s outrageous, but really? Did you not expect him to take it another step? Did you not expect him to shit on the pillow and force your inner child’s face into it? You’re like the nerd version of a battered wife.

So instead of heading to the various internet forums to vent your rage, do me a favor: Do nothing. I mean that, and I mean it sincerely.

The only thing this sort of rage does is give free press to the fact that there’s another edition of Star Wars coming out. Don’t write about it. don’t discuss it, don’t think about it, and certainly don’t buy anything else from Lucas Enterprises LLC. I’m aware that I’m breaking the first rule of Fight Club here, but after this, say and do nothing. Ignore the bully. We’re all nerds here, we should be used to that shit by now.

Boycott the Blu-Ray release? Fuck that. Boycott the franchise. Boycott discussing it. Boycott being a fan.

Really, the only thing we have left to hope for is that Lucas will realize the evil of his ways and throw all of these moronic alterations down a conveniently-placed pit. Hopefully, he won’t have an urge to scream, “NOOOOOOOOO!” Of course, I’m assuming if George finally realizes the truth, the only reason he’ll be yelling “NOOOOOOO!” is because he just shit the bed… for real this time.

[Source: Ain't It Cool News]

For some strange reason, possibly cocaine, Captain America co-writer Christopher Markus wants to not only bring MODOK (Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing [with a really retarded name]) to the screen, but he wants to cast Peter Dinklage for the role, stating,

“I will win you over to Peter Dinklage as MODOK. If he came around the corner and you saw him floating there you would be terrified. It would be amazing,”

Before you go trying to win us over, Mr. Markus, it’d probably be a good idea to win over Peter Dinklage.

I certainly don’t think that Peter Dinklage would be bad at playing MODOK. Hell, I’d watch Peter Dinklage in nearly anything at this point, the guy’s incredible. In fact, remake The Matrix and have him star as an even more believable Neo. Do it. I swear to god, I’ll be the first in line. He’d know kung-fu. But wanting to cast him as MODOK for the Captain America sequel? It’d be insulting to a marvelous actor if it wasn’t so goddamned stupid.

Seriously, guys. Do you even know what MODOK looks like?

Just what we need in both life and cinema. A rocket-farting head.

Fortunately for everyone on the planet Earth, not everyone is excited about his as Christopher Markus.

“I love MODOK and I think you could make a terrifying movie with MODOK but nobody seems to be on my side at the momentum(sic),”

You know what, Christopher? You’re right. You could make a terrifying movie with MODOK, but it’d be a porn parody of the film you’re planning to make. How does Captain Shlongmerica II: MO’DONG Rising sound to you? Terrible? Good, because that’s about how stupid a movie featuring MODOK sounds to everyone else.

For once, I’m actually on the side of the suits for stifling the writer’s creativity. Finally, as though we’ve warped onto some Bizarro Earth, they’re the ones preventing something terrible from being unleashed on the unsuspecting public, rather than sitting in a dark corner, wringing their hands atop stacks of ill-gotten money. Wait, are Hollywood executives finally fighting for the good of the audience?

Crap. Maybe those natural disasters last week were signs of the end times.

Probably not. Those execs just heard Christopher Markus muttering crap about some giant floating head named MODOK and their bank accounts went flashing before their eyes.

[Source: MTV.com]

The undisputed king of douche, Ben Affleck, is angling to star, direct, and produce a video game movie, apparently all from a first-person-shooter perspective. If you’ll remember the incredibly atrocious FPS sequence from Doom, this sounds like a groin-punchingly bad idea.

I’m not saying that a movie from a first person view couldn’t work. Look at Cloverfield, for instance. The movie was effectively first person, but it also came with sometimes nauseating results. This didn’t bother me, I loved the roller coaster effect that it had, but when you’ve got audiences barfing all over each other ala The Goonies, maybe it’s time to reconsider the formula. Unless you’re into turning a movie theater into a weird snuff film.

But hey, maybe Affleck can pull it off. Both Gone Baby Gone and The Town were good, so it’s not like the guy can’t direct. He can sure as hell direct a lot better than he acts. Man, he was bad in Pearl Harbor. Seriously, even he knew how bad he was, look:

Ben Affleck, hoping the john is somewhere nearby.

It’s simple folks, movies are different from video games. When you try to cram too much movie into a game, you wind up with Metal Gear Solid 4. When you try to stuff too much game into a movie, you end up with a vomit-inducing shit fest that no one wants to watch. Basically, just imagine how much my girlfriend hates watching me play Team Fortress 2. Right, then double it. That’s how much we want to watch a FPS movie.

I’d probably go out of my way to tell Ben Affleck, but he probably wouldn’t listen. Besides, he’s way too busy pouting and flexing.

He's so sad, but he still really wants you to scope out his abs.

[Source: MSNBC]

Ah, the impotent rage of youth.

Last week, yet another screenshot from The Dark Knight Rises was released, and contrary to all of the other teasers and sneak peaks that have been released, this one evoked the kind of unfocused anger normally reserved for the likes of Ann Coulter, or I don’t know, Stalin. Did this picture depict Batman in a nipple suit? Bane dressed as Hello Kitty? Robin, the Boy Wonder?

No. It was this:

Anne Hathaway, in a jumpsuit, on a Batpod, wearing goggles. Completely lacking context, folks on the internet fumed and raged and frothed at the mouth, then probably wet themselves with fury. As SlashFilm user Drew Butler so eloquently put it:

oh noooo…. please god, no….i just ……NOOOOOOOO!!!

Man, Drew, it’s not like Anne Hathaway slept with your mom and had me film it, then beckoned me over to the bed, in between her and your mom and let nature take its course. Did anyone ever tell you that your mom’s an attractive lady, Drew? Would you mind if I did?

Here’s the problem I have with this level of anger towards something completely lacking context: It’s completely lacking context. We don’t know if she’s stealing from Batman, or if she’s in cahoots with Bane, or if she’s headed out for more Vagisil. No one knows!

And even if this is the final suit, who cares? Is it really that bad? So it’s different than you expected. What, did you want a repeat of Catwoman? If so, what the hell is wrong with you?

Internet (and that means you, Drew), before the next screenshot comes out from this or anything else, step back, take a deep breath, and be glad that we’re getting this level of super hero movie out of Hollywood these days. Because seriously, if you don’t quit your bitching, they’re going to call back Jerry Bruckheimer, and no one wants that.

The horror. The nipple suited horror.

[Source: SlashFilm]

As far as we know, the things this movie has going for it are:

1. The teaser image above
2. It’s being written by David S. Goyer and Christopher Nolan
3. It’s being produced by Christopher Nolan

The things it has going against it?

1. Zack Synder
2. Zack Synder
3. Zack Synder

It’s a unique sensation when you go from, “Oh, sweet. Christopher Nolan’s definitely going to save Man of Steel.” to “Oh, shit. Zach Snyder’s going to ruin Man of Steel.” Still, if anyone can rescue a super hero franchise, it’s Nolan, but after seeing Snyder’s grotesque violation of The Watchmen, I have a hard time believing even Supes himself could save this potential train wreck.

The task is monumental, no matter who you put at the helm. The sad tragedy is that Superman, as a character, is boring. He doesn’t have the built-in conflicts that characters like Batman or Spider-Man have. The whole truth, justice, and the American Way schtick makes him more one-dimensional than these assholes:

Still, I’m remaining cautiously optimistic that Nolan has produced a story that will do Supes justice. The only danger I can see so far is that they’ll go too dark, but I suspect they may be able to needle that back. Now if Snyder can pour some ice water on his ridiculous slow-motion boner, we may finally get a Superman movie worth watching.

Although I can’t quite get over the fact that he looks equally suited to save a kitten or cap a guido mobster.

As promised on the ‘StacheCast this week, I’ll be venturing into the strange, boob-laden world of Hard Ticket to Hawaii, the campy 80′s movie that captures your heart, and if you’re into big-breasted blondes, it may also capture your crotch.

Hard Ticket follows the exploits of Rowdy Abilene and his best buddy, Jade (a dude), as they get called in to investigate the murders of two Hawaiian DEA agents. I’m not sure if Rowdy and Jade actually investigate anything, but they do wind up driving around in a jeep, making bad jokes, and blowing things up, all while being moronic. If that wasn’t enough potential shenanigan for you, add two buxom blondes and a cancerous snake to the mix, and you’ve got yourself one heaping serving of adventure.

The journey for Rowdy isn’t so much a cohesive narrative as it is a series of moments. Amazing, incredible moments that no single man should ever be greedy enough to experience by himself, but somehow one Rowdy Abilene does. Is it the white teeth? Is it the yacht called the Malibu Express? Is it the fact that he wears ladies’ bikini bottoms? The world may never know.

As far as I can tell, no one wears the pants in this relationship.

Our hero drifts from scene to scene, moment to moment. One such moment is when he’s sparring on his yacht with is buddy, Jade. They put on some racist Chinese accents, make a “Confucius say” joke, and get a delivery from someone referred to only as “the Sushi man”. As it turns out that they didn’t order sushi, but a note inside of a sandwich. They read the note, put it halfway in the sandwich, then light it on fire. Perhaps not the most orthodox way of disposing of top secret information, but they don’t call him Rowdy for nothing.

The letter leads them to get in touch with the blondes and they wind up flying in to provide backup for the ladies. En route to meet up with their lady friends (via Jeep), they’re greeted with a guy doing a handstand on a skateboard down the street. Again, no one man should greedily bogart all of this weirdness, but Rowdy manages to. This skateboarding man on “heavy doobies” rendezvous with this fat guy in a red truck. Skate and the Fat Man pass our heroes on the road before stopping far enough ahead to deploy the skater. Skater then grabs, I shit you not, a blowup doll and a rifle. Don’t want to believe me? You don’t have to, because here it is:

Is that a rifle behind your blowup doll, or are you just happy to see me?

Tragically, Jade is shot square in the chest by the Skater. Less tragically, Jade is somehow perfectly fine, so they slam it into reverse and run the Skater over. This, amazingly, covers him in blood and launches him into the air, where Rowdy shoots him with a bazooka, then also shoots the blowup doll. Let that be a lesson to you on blowup doll safety: never use a blowup doll to conceal firearms.

Another miraculous series of events involves a man with an Uzi and a frisbee. I’m not sure I could ever have imagined that those two words would’ve been used in the same sentence, but then, here we are.

After a lengthy stakeout, Rowdy discovers that this Uzi-toting man’s name is Shades, and that a local woman plays frisbee with him every day. Every day. A woman has nothing better to do with her time than play frisbee with a random man on the beach who’s always holding an Uzi. Interesting. Fortunately, Rowdy know just how to exploit this weakness.

“How?” you may be inclined to ask. Or, “It couldn’t possibly be something as stupid as a razor-blade covered frisbee, right?” Sorry to disappoint you with awesomeness, but if you’re disappointed with a razor-blade covered frisbee, you may as well just give up on life.

Razorblades! His only weakness!

With their only empasse out of the way, the team strikes the drug kingpin’s compound, bazookas, boobs, and guns a-blazing. This was all apparently to rescue a friend of theirs, but honestly, it was probably just an excuse to use the bazookas again.

Finally, busty blonde number one has retreated to her apartment, where she not only contends with the drug kingpin, but the giant, cancer snake. I’ll go ahead and state outright that if you have any clue what’s happening at this point, you’re a better person than I. Either way, Tits McBoobs brutally murders the kingpin, and as the snake closes in on her, Rowdy crashes through the wall on a motorcycle, whips out his bazooka, and blasts the snake in the face. No puns or extremely gross euphemisms intended.

There’s an inconsequential scene where Rowdy throws a rich guy out of a window, before they all head back to the Malibu Express to drink champagne and live happily ever after. Roll credits, and of course, all the parts of the movie with boobs in them are replayed. I almost wish I was making that up, but the fifteen year old in me says to shut the hell up and enjoy repeat boobage.

It’s interesting, as many bad movies as I watch, I can’t believe how right this one gets it compared to all of the rest. These movies are meant to be fun, indulgent, and stupid. They should be chock-full of fun boobs and explosions. I want to see retarded monster effects and improbable amounts of blood. I want it campy and pulpy and downright moronic.

Hard Ticket to Hawaii nails it. This film exists as a tribute to its time, a rare, precious gem, that truly understood what it is to be a bad movie. With that, I’ll leave you with the “best” 10 minutes from Hard Ticket to Hawaii. If this doesn’t want to make you watch it, imagine this plus tons of boobs.

I’m pretty sure that no one did, but that hasn’t stopped Hollywood’s script sweatshops from crapping one out. I’m no big-city Hollywood marketing executive, but I’m pretty sure that a “reboot” requires that the viewing public doesn’t confuse the new movie with a really low-budget sequel. Seeing ads for this is just going to remind me of all the ass Spider Man 3 sucked.

Based on the trailer, the best plot device they could come up with is an tortured, emo Peter Parker with daddy issues to replace the lovable, nerdy Peter Parker with I-can’t-talk-to-hot-chicks issues. You don’t have to guess which one I relate to better.

UPDATE: Looks like our friends at Sony didn’t just rehash the Spider-Man story, they ripped off choreography from Mirror’s Edge. The video is below. Seriously guys?

[Source: Sony Pictures]

As soon as Warner Brothers was finished milking their initial, weekend dollars on the final Harry Potter, they deemed it fit to release the official teaser trailer for The Dark Knight Rises. Based on what little I’ve seen, it’s looking like this movie is aiming to permanently wound my bat-psyche.

Gordon’s gasping in a hospital bed, Bane looks terrifying, and in the last glimpse they give us, Batman looks like he’s sincerely about to crap his pants. I’m hoping he packed some Handi Wipes in his utility belt.

Even though it’s still a year away, I’m finding myself increasingly anxious for its release. By “increasingly anxious for”, I mean “wanting to find someone who can induce a medical coma until”.

Check out the Batness below, courtesy of Machinima:

I’m confused… the LA Times simply explains, “Why Sarah Palin documentary ‘The Undefeated’ isn’t a hit“. Meanwhile, CBS News states, “Sarah Palin documentary has modest opening“. Finally, Fox News takes a decidedly more positive look, stating Creators of Sarah Palin Documentary ‘The Undefeated’ Declare Box-Office Victory, Report Says. This report submitted late, straight from some reporter’s ass.

Now, based on the headlines alone, how did the Sarah Palin documentary The Undefeated do at the box office over the weekend?

Bias in the media aside, I can confidently claim that The Undefeated is a movie in which things happened, and that some people went to see the film, while others didn’t.

Good to know and thanks for nothing, News. Now I’m going to have to learn how to form my own opinion on Sarah Palin and her stupid movie.

I watched Almighty Thor last night, and I’m still trying to unspool what it was actually about. Obviously, it’s about Thor. Most of the movie he’s running away from Loki, who’s trying to steal the Hammer of Invincibility, as they pass through a couple of vaguely defined dimensions. One of these dimensions is modern-day LA.

Already confused? Let’s move on.

Of the themes that are espoused here, only one lesson is taught: If things aren’t going your way, whine like an imputant bitch until you get sent to hell, then randomly hulk out and win the day. Why? Because because that’s exactly what Thor does, and everything works out just peachy keen. I’ll admit it’s not a great lesson, but it’s the only one we learn.

Oh, and Fate. Fate is BS. Thor manages to make that point so many times I lost count. It was more natural for him to make that point than sneezing, or say, talking. He’s not the greatest talker.

Honestly, I don’t even think Thor is the hero in this particular story. Sure, you want to believe he’s the hero because his name is in the title, and ostensibly he’s the good guy because he’s trying to save Earth, but the problem is that he doesn’t have a redeeming value in him. While it’s claimed that he’s crazy “heroic”, all of his “heroism” boils down to willfully avoiding common sense while getting his ass handed to him repeatedly. That’s not heroism, it’s being a foolhardy twat.

Let’s take every Batman story ever, just to gain a bit of perspective. The Dark Knight becomes aware of an enemy. He must face him(or her), whether he wants to or not, because he’s left with no choice. He’s unprepared, he’s scared, but he does it anyway. Because he has to. Because he’s fucking Batman.

He gets his ass handed to him (sounding familiar?), but then he retreats. He gains an advantage. He learns his enemy. Then, you know what happens? Batman kicks their ass. But he doesn’t do it because he blindly stumbles into it. He does it because he keeps trying, and he works hard at overcoming his obstacles. You know, like a hero.

Thor, on the other hand, is stupid. He’s not smart enough to be afraid of an adversary who has a clear advantage over him, and that’s the difference. Real bravery is knowing how stupidly dangerous it is to do something, and doing it anyway. Thor’s just a jackass hoping to get stupid lucky.

Hell, Loki’s more of a hero here. Sure, Loki was trying to bring on the end times, and that makes him a despicable dick, but at least he isn’t a stupid dick. He worked hard. He overthrew not one, but two dimensions with only himself and some giant dogs. If that’s not heroically overcoming adversity, I don’t know what is.

Those jag-tards aside, there’s the noble Valkyrie, Jarnsaxa, Thor’s semi-Oedipal love interest and constant, completely ignored companion. Ignore that stupid name just long enough to fall in love…

She’s honestly the only reasonably admirable person among these lunatics. Jarnsaxa is patient, calm, wise, and highly skilled. She’s the perfect opposite of Thor who is impatient, stupid, stupid, and highly stupid. Like a stupid person who is oozing stupid from their stupid gland, or as it’s commonly known, their brain. Stupid.

She offers Thor training and guidance and shelter countless times, but he just shrugs her off to go face the master of trickery again and again with his stupid face, his stupid brain, and his dumb muscles. Thor is a frat boy, and he’s not going to take any shit from his mommy. Speaking of frat boys, try this when you watch Almighty Thor: Take a drink everytime Thor asks a moronic question. Actually don’t, we don’t want to be held liable for alcohol poisoning.

Seriously, if you can make it through 30 minutes of doing shots by that rules, you’re going to have to trade in your kidneys. They’ll be dead.

At some point, Thor whips out an Uzi. No, I’m not bullshitting, look:

You lazy prick! You’ve got the power of a god and you resort to using a freaking Uzi? Just who in the hell do you think you are? And then you just give it to Loki? Use your super strength to hold onto it as well as you did that hammer! (Before Loki steals it anyhow.)

Finally, it turns out the Hammer, doesn’t matter at all, because the power was within Thor all along, and he just made a new one to crush the old one. He also managed to create a shockwave which somehow didn’t kill everyone on the planet at the same time.

So Thor, unlikeable, unlearning asshole that you are, have fun on Earth. You’re the goddamned lamest god amongst men that there’s ever been. I mean, seriously. Look at this douche bag.

What I’m trying to say is that Almighty Thor is gleefully stupid, and a really good time. Check it out.

Apparently, some people confused the Batman logo with a Unicorn here... can't unsee.

Will Gotham be destroyed? Will Alfred be beaten by a cadre of angry, Venom-juiced apes? Will Bruce Wayne be raped by Bane? We don’t know. What we do know is that they’re building a very ominous tone, and if you’re anything like me, you like your Batman like you like your coffee: Dark, epic, and heavily tortured.

[Source: TheDarkKnightRises.com]

There are many questions to be asked about a sentient, psychopathic tire with telekinetic powers, but right from the start, it’s made very clear by a strange Sheriff that Rubber is not a story about asking questions. It’s a story about a tire who blows shit up.

We begin with a nerd. He stands in the desert, apparently alone, holding two handfuls of binoculars. Nearby is a bunch of chairs, soon revealed to be extraordinarily shoddy, as a car approaches and slowly knocks them down one by one, completely dismantling them. The aforementioned strange Sherriff emerges from the trunk – yes, the trunk - of said car, gets a glass of water, and delivers a stupid speech. I can’t remember what he said because it was incredibly stupid. Like, reeeaaaally stupid.

The sheriff leaves after dumping out his water and climbing back into the trunk, while the nerd passes out binoculars to a bunch of assholes standing around in the desert. They’re sad the chairs fell down, but they’re obviously morons because those chairs would’ve just fallen apart. They watched them fall apart. So did I. Those chairs were of inferior quality.

So this gaggle of morons starts looking over the desert at a radial tire. After struggling a bit, the tire gets up and goes rolling off on its own accord. For the sake of clarity, I’ll say it again: yes, Rubber is about a sentient tire making people and things explode. No, you don’t get to ask why.

The tire meanders along for a bit and crushes a plastic bottle. He crushes it again and again. This begins the unbeginning; he’s developed a taste for destruction. As the dumbasses in the desert watch, he crushes a scorpion. Finally, with an odd vibration of concentration (do tires concentrate?) he makes a rabbit explode. Great, now he also has a taste for blood.

So he continues to wander, they continue to watch, he continues to violently explode animals. Such is life in the world of creepy sentient tires. Animals explode and folks hang out in the desert for no reason whatsoever. Break out your finger guns, douche bags, party all night.

These people ask questions for the audiences, from what I can tell, and gratuitously break the fourth wall in some pretentious effort to make a commentary on the senselessness of what we’re all embroiled in watching. Fortunately, for this cadre of sunburned idiots, all but one gets poisoned 30 minutes in. The rest of us have to agonize for another 55 minutes.

Soon, our rubbery hero gets obsessed about some girl and moves on to blowing up people’s heads. After that, it’s not long before the strange Sheriff shows up again to talk about the ridiculousness of it all. He then demands to be shot several times before being shot several times to no effect.

The reason he wanted to be shot, apparently, is that he was trying to prove that none of it mattered because he thought all of the members of the desert audience were dead. Well, he’s wrong, because one of them refused to eat from a poisoned turkey that the binocular-carrying nerd fed to them after leaving them in the desert overnight! HA HA! Confused? Yeah. It’s like this the whole goddamned movie. I’m just glad that soon after this, the idiot nerd dies after eating food he himself poisoned.

Anyways, the thing boils down to a senseless “stand-off” where the Sheriff and the girl sit in a van trying to goad the tire into blowing up a mannequin which is rigged to explode if the tire blows its head up. Eventually, the tire does just this, but the mannequin doesn’t explode as planned, so the Sheriff unceremoniously shoots the tire with a shotgun. Why this couldn’t have happened 30 minutes earlier, I have absolutely no idea.

If that wasn’t enough bullshit to make you brown-eyed, the tire gets reincarnated as a tricycle, and recruits other tires to roll to Hollywood, where the movie ends.

Now, usually I try to write redeeming qualities about these piece of shit movies I love so much, but this one just kicked me square in the nuts. I was so excited to watch this (Asif can attest) because, I mean, what could be better? A sentient tire blows up peoples heads! Hilarity is bound to ensue.

And while that concept itself is entertaining, the whole thing was a pretentious crapshow from start to finish. Filmmakers: don’t try to make a point about the pointlessness of movies. I get it, it’s supposed to be a joke, but Rubber is so painfully delivered and full of itself that it ruins any promise of fun that it ever had. I guess that’s what I get for watching a bad movie that is also made by the French: a whole lot of pretentious horseshit and not a lot of fun.

If you have any desire to watch Rubber, go hit yourself over the head with a radial tire until you reconsider.

So is Naomi Alderman. That’s clearly why she wrote her latest article, 7 Things in Harry Potter I Wish Were Real. Confused because this sounds like something that should be scrawled in crayon inside of a 9 year old’s diary?

You’re right to be confused! Imagine my surprise when I found it on the website of a reputable newspaper like The Guardian. The thing is, it’s not even a good list!

Hey, Naomi. You know what I wish was real from Harry Potter? Fucking magic.

[Source: The Guardian]

Sean and I had the mind-numbing pleasure of watching Transformers: Dark of the Moon in IMAX 3D last night, and I have to say, I owe Michael Bay an apology gift. This isn’t to say that Transformers wasn’t confusing visually at times, or that the plot wasn’t contrived, or that the movie didn’t throw out the ol’ deux ex machina like it was giving away T-shirts at a ball game.

This is to say that I had a damn good time. It took my optic nerves a full hour to stop vibrating at Bay speed. I’m pretty sure I lapsed into some sort of explosion-induced, drooling fugue state at least twice during the climactic action sequence.

The best way I can describe Transformers 3 is the following: it was a spectacle.

I’ll also say this: see it in 3D, see it in a good theater, and your best bet is going to be IMAX. The reason I definitely recommend 3D (at a good theater) is that I simply can’t imagine being able to process the sheer amount of explosions and mayhem being thrown directly at your face unless you’re able to split the chaos into separate dimensions.

This movie was made for 3D. A friend had seen it in 2D the night before, and as he watched it, he lamented, “I should be watching this in 3D”. Last night’s screening confirmed his lamentations.

And with this, it’s finally happened. Michael Bay’s movies have officially become too insane for 2D.

Should you watch it? If you’re willing to drop $20 on IMAX 3D tickets, yes. Otherwise, probably not. I just can’t imagine that this level of chaos will be able to be conveyed clearly in any other way. But if you’re a fan of hardcore, robot fist in robot grill action, you’ll probably dig it.

Hell, I’d watch it again for the insane car chase sequence alone. But maybe that’s because I’m still trying to balance my adrenaline levels…

Shark Attack 3: Megalodon is about, not surprisingly, a shark. But it’s not like most movies with sharks you’re used to. In my memory, most movies want you to root for the people who the shark is trying to eat, but Shark Attack 3: Megalodon makes you root for the shark. Why? Because everyone in Shark Attack 3: Megalodon is a jackass.

I mean that in the best way. This rampant jackassery transforms a story about a bunch of people united by a crippling fear of stock shark footage into a silly good time for the whole family. Except for the kids. This movie has healthy scoop of tits and blood.

After a diver gets mercilessly assaulted by some moving pictures of sharks, we meet Ben Carpenter, our douchey hero. Let’s get right down to it, this guy is the biggest jackass who’s ever graced a marina in sunny Mexico.

Ben, working as some kind of boat-based security guard, promptly convinces his Hispanic stereotype of a partner to skip out on work to go diving for lobster (because that’s how you catch lobsters). Diving down to catch his dinner, Ben discovers a shark tooth wedged in some stupid ocean cable. This sets forth a series of events that will change his life forever, but mostly get a bunch of people eaten by sharks.

He shouts his stupid words at the security firm he works for and yells, “Shit! Ah, Shit!” a bunch when he sees some shark footage. Perhaps it’s the tone of his yelling, or the smirk on his face, but no one seems to give a crap about sharks or his stupid face. As a result, people die, all while the shark makes terrifying noises, like “OM NOM NOM” and “RAAAWRRRGRBRLBRBRL”.

If shark attacks really sound like this, I’m never going into the ocean again.

Finally, Ben’s had enough of his jerk-ass security firm and their “don’t worry, sharks are like, whatever, man” attitude. He goes rogue. He gathers some moxie, a blonde shark scientist he met earlier named Cat Stone, and her camera crew. Together they head out to sea—and adventure!

Our noble crew tracks and encounters the mighty beast. It smashes into their boat, like that scene out of JAWS, but with jackasses instead of people. The boat is taking on water, so Cat, in her infinite scientific wisdom, gets a shotgun. As the adorable beast crashes through the hull of the ship, Cat drops her shotgun like some kind of idiot, leaving Ben to fail around and yell, “AH, SHIT!” at the shark. With the shark distracted by jackass, Cat regains her composure and makes some shark brain gravy, shotgun style.

The boat capsizes, leaving our heroes saying things like, “Son of a bitch!” and “AH SHIT! SHIIIT!” about a billion times. It’s then that the truth is discovered! This shark was just a baby, the real megalodon is the mother, and she’s pissed. She shows this by swallowing Ben’s stereotype of a partner, not unlike like a duck choking down bread.

Our heroes escape (minus the now-dead camera crew) with a well-timed helicopter rescue. They meet up with some old, salty dog of a Navy guy named Chuck Rampart and decide to paint the town red—with this poor shark’s guts. Where did Chuck come from? Who the hell knows or cares? He hates sharks.

Chuck, being the guy he is, decides the only way to finish a giant shark is with a giant explosion. Mr. Michael Bay, you have a kindred spirit.

With the plan set, they resolve to meet up bright and early the next morning. But not before this happens:

I’m not sure any person in history has made a woman go from vague survival acquaintance to full-on bone-buddy in such a short time frame with such an odd, poorly executed maneuver. Ben Carpenter, the world is yours.

After awkwardly making out and getting their solid 8 hours of sleep, they awake in the morning to hatch a diabolical, shark murdering plan that involves a submarine, a helicopter, and a whole lot of torpedo. Soon, the plan goes horribly awry because there’s a yacht full of evil executives, some of which were important to the plot, but I’ve glossed over them because they weren’t in scenes with sharks.

And so, a bunch of people in tuxedoes jump off of the boat after the Megalodon rams it a bunch, as Megalodons do. The Megalodon eats a life raft full of people and a guy on a jet ski. Take a look:

Inexplicably, Ben’s plans get even further interrupted by Cat being unable to attach a tracking transmitter to the shark and Chuck being unable to do the same, after evacuating the submarine. With the weight of a very large shark weighing on his shoulders, Ben hatches a plan (Plan F?) to be done with the Megalodon once and forever.

Using the cunning one only learns in Marina Security Training, Ben targets the torpedo at the sub he’s in, then gets the shark to attack his sub. With time ticking down, Ben (unfortunately) escapes the sub and leaves the Megalodon to die a sad, explosion-laden death.

Jackasses triumphant and momma shark dead, Ben makes some terrible jokes, “Megalo-who??” and rides into the sunset, hopefully to die by the mouth of another shark some day.

Did I enjoy Shark Attack 3: Megalodon? In some senses, yes. It was outrageous, stupid, and overall ridiculous: the best qualities in a good/bad movie. In other senses, it made me cringe so hard, I’ll be walking like a hunchback for a couple of days.

The first leg of his assault was to send a letter to the projectionists. Of course, this effort may already be a wash, as the projectionists he speaks of barely exist anymore. In most modern theaters, it’s an assistant manager who runs the projectors. Or, as you know him, the guy you yell at for refunds before he calls his boss.

I won’t say that Bay’s letter wasn’t a nice gesture. In fact, it’s everything I want to hear from Hollywood directors: concern for the moviegoer and quality of the picture. I respect the hell out of that. To be clear, I don’t respect Michael Bay. I respect that he cares, but I suspect he cares because it makes him boatloads of money.

Either way, he’s making a valid attempt to legitimized 3D movies. He’s willing to not only call other 3D movies crap, but go to lengths to make sure his new movie gets shown properly, including shipping super-bright prints of the film to theaters capable of projecting them. What wasn’t specified was whether these prints were delivered via cargo drop from an exploding B2 bomber. In slow motion.

Does it mean Transformers: Dark of the Moon is going to be any good? No. Of course not. Did you see Transformers 2? (Full disclosure: I didn’t watch it, but maybe I should considering my interests.)

While it’s possible that I’m completely wrong about what will likely be a veritable orgy of confusing, robot-related violence, I’ll say this: I will watch Transformers 3(D!) and if I enjoy it, I will personally send Michael Bay a box of assorted fireworks as an “I’m sorry” bouquet. If that’s not legal, I’ll send him a box of chocolates with tiny explosions painted on top.

Will he save 3D? Who knows. Might it actually be worth watching the effort? I’ll let you know if my eyeballs don’t explode.

[Source: USA Today]

Update: It’s worth mentioning that there’s a thread on Reddit discussing Michael Bay’s letter to projectionists. So apparently, this was less “first strike” and more “going through the motions” than I previously thought.

1. Explosions
2. Two or more relatively competant opposing forces

The tablet market’s development over the past year had neither of those things.

A more accurate metaphor might be a start of a 400 meter dash where one participant is at the starting line and all the others are in the bathroom. Apple’s competitors have responded to the iPad’s resounding success the way one would expect a bunch of surprised, pantsless guys to respond to just about anything: poorly.

What does this mean for the future of tablet computing? Expect Apple to continue to be Apple, and expect everyone else to struggle with their pants for another five years.

[Source: Cnet.com]

What I do know is this:

Based on the following image, I will never see this movie.

Ever.

The Room is simply the best bad movie that’s ever been made. It is the single most confusing, slipshod film I’ve ever witnessed, but simultaneously the most entertaining. It grabs your taste in cinema by the left testicle, flips it ass-up, then takes a crap on its face before convincing you it’s chocolate mousse. Think that doesn’t make sense? Then you obviously haven’t watched The Room.

Briefly stated: The Room is the Citizen Kane of bad movies. A cult following has continued to grow around it and its strange ringmaster, Tommy Wiseau, since it debuted in 2003. What began as a poorly-made drama has slowly turned into a late-night moviegoing experience resembling the likes of The Rocky Horror Picture Show in its level of insanity and avid audience participation. However, comparing Rocky Horror and The Room is like comparing cotton candy to a heap of steaming dung.

The differences between the audiences is just as stark. Rocky Horror audiences are as delightfully campy as the film, playing along, dancing, and partying. The Room audiences serve as a critical hive mind, lashing out at plot inconsistencies and the weird vein which pulsates out of the lead actress’s neck. All in good fun, of course. We’re along for the ride, and we love what we simultaneously loathe.

The Room: The Play/Live Reading continues this awful, yet amazing tradition. Performed by Tommy Wiseau (writer/director/weirdo/producer/star of The Room) and  Greg Sestero (producer/cheater/star of The Room) it is by no measure a “good play”. It is, however, the single most entertaining live event I’ve ever attended. I mean that truly and deeply. It’s stupid, it’s silly, it’s chaotic, but more than anything, it’s a damn good time. If The Room: The Play/Live Reading were a train wreck (and it is), the train would be made of balloon animals, the passengers would be clowns, and every single one of them would be a little drunk, except the conductor, who’d be completely wasted.

It’s exactly like seeing The Room in theaters, but amplified by having live people on the receiving end of catcalls and group chants, and they’re good sports about it. The lunatic-filled audience ran the asylum. It teetered into bedlam at a couple of points, with members of the audience rushing the stage for a party scene, and Wiseau repeatedly stripping down to a wife beater. If you thought his body was terrifying on DVD, add 8 years of aging and put it 8 feet away from you. At least he didn’t show us his ass.

As far as the actual play is concerned, there are a few things worth pointing out. First, Wiseau was visibly drunk for the first half of the play. Either he’s a pro at acting drunk and broke character halfway through, or the guy was seriously blitzed. Since we all know he can’t act, it was almost certainly the former.

Two, Greg Sestero didn’t play Mark in this performance. He played himself. As confirmed in a conversation with him after the play, he was basically saying all of the things he wanted to say during the movie. He was effectively an extension of the audience, with a similar level of snark and self-awareness. They ate it up, cheering loudly at several lines. He was the discerning asshole that fans craved, and The Room: The Play/Live Reading deserved.

Finally, it’s definitely worth mentioning that the entire cast, with the exception of Wiseau and Sestero were cast the day before, and found via ads on Craigslist. Some of them barely knew their lines. It was admitted that this was not only the first performance, but the first run through. Considering they’d never done the play before, it held together, despite the character Lisa repeatedly calling the character Johnny “Tommy” because that’s his actual name. At one point, a girl was reading straight from her script, when Johnny emerged, he grabbed the script and threw it into the audience. The response resembled what happens at a wedding when the bride tossed her bouquet only to find out that she invited one too many of her desperate single friends. I wonder if the script had a similar effect for the lucky fan who ripped it from the hands of another.

In the end, this was exactly what we’ve all come to expect of anything associated with The Room; this sort of Wiseau-brand chaos focused by the lens of Greg Sestero. There’s a reason they’ve been working together for nearly a decade: it works. Sestero is in on the joke with the rest of the audience, and Wiseau is a willing ham. A muttering, eastern-European jester. I’m not sure he gets it, but he revels in it, and the audience loves him, and his gnarled body, for it.

All bad acting and whatever pretense is associated with The Room aside, Wiseau and Sestero understand what they’re doing now. Well, Sestero does, and as a result this play is an absolute delight. Looking for culture or class? You have no business going anywhere near this. In fact, I’m surprised you’re reading this right now. Looking to have a couple of beers and have a silly, spoon-hurling good time? You really have no reason not to see The Room: The Play/Live Reading. Although I can’t promise that Tommy won’t show his ass. That’s just how he rolls.

In an article for CNN, Alamo Drafthouse founder Tim League lays out the rest of the rules for his theater. While clarifying his motives for founding the Alamo, he details his issues with most multiplexes. League lists several reasons, among them:

• Advertisements before movies
• Idiotic parents dragging their loud kids along to theaters (especially to R-rated features)
• Unattended jackass teenagers
• Dick-bag patrons in general

It’s no wonder Mr. League was looking to do something different. Not only are the Alamo’s rules awesome, but they describe a movie-going experience all cinemas should strive for: a business that punishes the douche bags who are ruining it for everyone else. This isn’t your living room, jackass. Text your ugly girlfriend on your time, not mine.

It’s no wonder this video has gone viral. People are aching to return to a time when going to the movies didn’t suck. Is it possible? Yes. Alamo Drafthouse is proving just that, and I wish them continued success. May they strike the heads from the megaplexes and bring us back to a glorious time when people found it rude to talk during a movie, let alone wave around a goddamned, glowing rectangle.

Does this sound unlikely? Sure. But is it possible? Absolutely. After all, anything is possible in the Magnited States of America!

[Source: CNN]

Besides, her Rotten Tomatoes ranking has nothing to do with her acting ability, it has to do with her crappy taste in movies. If anything, the Career-o-Matic should have declared her agent the worst ever.

My point is tha—actually I forgot my point, I was looking at pictures of Jennifer Love-Hewitt. I’ll be in my bunk.

[Source: The Baltimore Sun]

Titanic II is less a movie and more a series of lessons. Among those lessons, don’t make a boat and then name it Titanic II, always stress-test your engines and don’t intentionally drown. Truly, strange lessons for a strange time.

It’s clear from the outset that the owner of Titanic II, Hayden Walsh, only picked the name to get some publicity for his shiny, new vessel. What he got instead was a pile of bad luck and a crap-ton of natural disasters. Not only does Titanic II get hit by an iceberg, it gets hit by an iceberg thrown by a goddamned tsunami. At some point after the ship got hit, some jackass patron shouts at Hayden, “This is all your fault!” No, jackass patron. This is your fault. Hayden Walsh was trying to make a buck by naming a ship, you were the moron who decided to pay money to set foot on the Titanic II. Tell me, jackass, who comes out ahead here? That’s right, the guy who just made $695 on your Carnival Cruise to Doom Island.

Sure, there were warning signs, and they didn’t stress test the boat’s engines, but at the end of it all, it wouldn’t have mattered. The ocean was hurling icebergs from tsunamis. Oh, I didn’t mention, the tsunamis were also created by icebergs. This sort of circular logic leads to one thing: Titanic II at the bottom of the fucking ocean.

After the first wave of chaos leaves the boat’s turbines crushed, half of the boat explodes. I know there are supposed to be safety precautions to prevent this sort of thing, but who could ever think that a tsunami is going to launch an iceberg at anything? Nobody except some insane Bond super-villain.

As though things couldn’t get any worse, things get so, so much worse. Titanic II is stranded in the water, she’s slowly sinking, and wouldn’t you know it? An even larger iceberg creates an even larger tsunami. Up until this point, everyone had been piling on to these submarine-like life rafts, but they’re about to become death rafts because this giant wave is going to wipe everything (except for the Titanic II) off of the map.

The Titanic II capsizes completely, leaving only two survivors. Don’t expect a creepily romantic scene where someone gently drifts into the water freezing out of this. Ultimately, Hayden Walsh saves his estranged girlfriend by giving up the only insulated wetsuit on the ship, and claims that he has a better chance if he drowns in the cold water because sometimes hypothermia puts people into a kind of stasis. I would’ve called a doctor to verify how often this happens, but I don’t have to because it’s that amazingly stupid. To the kids in the audience: Don’t intentionally die.

One could place blame on the engineers for the disaster that struck Titanic II, but no engineer on the planet could account for a tsunami flinging an iceberg at a vessel, followed by an explosion and another tsunami. That’s like blaming engineers for what happened at the Fukushima Daiichi plant. Truly, it’s a wonder either held together.

All in all, Titanic II was fun to watch, if only to see what horrible crap can happen on the off chance a ship gets hit be the craziest set of circumstances ever.

As a film, it owes its success to one man, Bruce Davidson.

This one man carried the entire movie on his shoulders like some sort of cinematic Atlas. Scenes alternated between barely believable and entirely compelling. The man is an amazing actor. I don’t know what they paid him for Titanic II, but it wasn’t enough.

He did all he could to steer the good ship Titanic II to safe harbor, only to watch it sink to the bottom of the ocean after being hit by wave after wave of bad acting. Also, actual waves.

From whose tomb has this unholy creature burst forth? Rock’em Sock’em Robots.

They’ve avoided paying licensing fees to Mattel by calling it Real Steel instead of Rock’em Sock’em Robots: The Cinematic Experience. Call it whatever you want, this is a movie that clearly revolves around humanoid robots in a boxing ring repeatedly punching each other in the head. The original game didn’t feature Hugh Jackman or bonding with your estranged son, but that could have been a fun addition. Preferably you would bond with your son by repeatedly punching him in the head.

If robot boxing is valid territory for shameless exploitation, are any other of my childhood toys safe? Is there some unholy cabal of white guys in business suits selling Hungry Hungry Hippos as a psychological thriller? The Hippos…They Hunger. Fall 2012.

[Source: Topless Robot]

Since going to the movies is becoming less and less popular as the quality of home entertainment continues to rise, studios are shoving 3D down our throats as a way to compensate. The problem is that it’s not working out as planned. People don’t give two craps about the “extra dimension” that newer movies are being presented in, and this is actually ruining 2D movies (or as we used to call them, movies) for everyone else.

How? As it turns out, when 2D movies are improperly projected through 3D lenses, the 3D lenses steal as much as 50% of the light from the projection. The result of this light heist is a dark, crappy-looking movie, which is likely to make The Hangover II even more bewildering.

But the problem doesn’t exist with all 3D lenses. This is a problem primarily found in Sony lenses. Why don’t they just remove the lenses, you say? Because removing Sony’s 3D lenses requires technical know-how that your average projection jockey didn’t learn in shop class. See, there are security clearances and internet passwords required to take the 3D lenses off. Most theaters don’t want to spend the time to remove them in the first place, and if they do it wrong, the lenses stop working. Why the hell would you even password protect a lens? Piracy doesn’t work that way, Sony.

Fortunately, Ebert has some sage advice to avoid these murky projectors.

Your best bet is apparently to (1) find a theater that doesn’t use digital at all, (2) doesn’t use Sony projectors, or (3) still projects light through celluloid the traditional way.

If that’s not enough (and it’s really not), there are even more tips further down the page.

What can you personally do to be sure you see an ideal picture? Matthew Humpries at Geek.com writes:

• The title of the movie listed by the theater will have a “D” after it if it is being shown on a digital projector
• If you are in a D movie, look at the projector window when seated. If you see two stacked beams of light it is a Sony projector with the 3D lens still on.
• A single beam of light means no 3D lens, or a different make of projector that doesn’t have the issue
• If you see the two beams, then get up and go complain. You paid good money to see the movie, so make a fuss until they either give you back that money or remove the lens. Seeing as that’s an involved and time-consuming process, expect a refund.

Still, I crave a slightly more personal solution, so I’m off to Japan to thank Sony’s executives for making the moviegoing experience an even more craptastic one. I already picked out a present! Let’s hope they like my gift-wrapped foot repeatedly kicking them square in the rocks.

[Source: Chicago Sun-Times]

Jason Bailey does a stellar job narrating, sometimes revealing the influences behind the clips. For example, Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho was a tremendous influence on the cinematography of John Carpenter’s Halloween. Unfortunately, the remaining Halloween movies drew their influence from Porky’s.

I never thought the iconic opening scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark could garner any new excitement after the 800th viewing, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t wrong. I’m still working my way through these, but do yourself a favor and watch them with your face. You may be surprised how not boring a black and white clip can be.

[Source: Flavorwire by way of Kottke]

I’m assuming The Skin I Live In is Banderas’ attempt to reenter the world of serious cinema, as the movie is about a surgeon (Banderas) whose daughter kills herself after being raped. The surgeon then kidnaps his daughter’s rapist, pantses him before mocking his penis size, gives him a sex change, transplants his dead daughter’s face onto the sex-changed rapist, then rapes the rapist who now looks like his own daughter. Now, here’s a fun game. You figure out what part of that l made up.

To quote the Fox News article:

“It was the fact that the victim was supposed to look like the doctor’s daughter. I couldn’t stop picturing the girl in the beginning of the movie when he was in bed with her, with him, later,” said filmgoer Marie-Elise Martin who left three-quarters of the way through the picture.

Here’s the trailer if you’re looking for something to watch with your girlfriend/wife/forcibly transgendered captive.

[Source: Fox News]

Revealed via what must be the start of yet another Alternate Reality Game (ARG) viral marketing campaign, this sneak peak retains the same dark tone and realism that’s made Nolan’s Batman a nipple suit and Batcrotch-free delight.

I was wondering how long it would be before the bitching committees formed and started whining in full force, but it seems like they’ve finally learned what we all should have after bitching about Heath Ledger being cast as The Joker:

In Nolan We Trust.

This movie can not get here soon enough.

[Source: Slashfilm]

As previously mentioned, I’ve been taking Hulu Plus for a free test drive this month, and I have to say—it’s Netflix’s slightly defective (but still very hot) cousin.

I can tolerate the ads, even if they don’t make a lot of sense when you consider I’m paying for it, but recently I stumbled onto something so ridiculous, so insane that it defies all logic. I went to show some friends the glory that is Community, but we quickly discovered we couldn’t watch it on Hulu Plus for Xbox. We then tried to watch Archer, because who doesn’t love that? Couldn’t watch that either. Why? Because it’s “web only” content. Sweet, crack-smoking Jesus Christ.

To add insult to ball-stomping injury, I can go to Hulu right now and watch either of these shows for free. Go ahead. Here’s Community. Here’s Archer. You can watch it all you want, just not on your Xbox because… Why? That’s where the logic train hits a wall, tragically killing everyone on board.

So Hulu, to clarify, you’re expecting users to pay $7.99 a month to not be able to watch content that they can watch on your website for free? How does this make any sense? Why wouldn’t you want your paying customers to access all of the content they normally could online? What fiend concocted this diabolical plot?

The logic behind something this idiotic must be so wedded to the mind of a specific executive that he (or she) should have to come to your house and explain it. They should let us experience the twisted carnival ride operating in his (or her) dastardly mind that somehow explains why the Xbox (and presumably the optimal viewing experience) is withheld from people who are paying for the service. At least that way, there would be rides.

Hulu, it really comes down to this: I want to like you. I really do. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re all the things I want in a steaming video service. The truth is, you’re good… but you’re not good enough to be able to pull this kind of crap without damaging our relationship. No one is. Not even Netflix.

Excuse me while I strip naked and do a victory lap around the block like I do every time I’m right.

For the record, I’m obnoxious to watch Jeopardy with.

[Source: PC World]

He’s got his own private jet and he can’t get some strange in a foreign country? That’s just lazy. Plus, she’s not even hot.

Meanwhile, the press drawing lazy parallels between Schwarzenegger’s life and a fictional superhero character The Governator.

The Governator is keeping his crime-fighting identity a secret from his wife, Maria, and their kids.

Schwarzenegger kept a kid a secret from his wife, Maria, and their kids.

The main difference here is that one is a child from boning a housekeeper, and the other is being a goddamned superhero. You can be a superhero and a devoted family man, but if you’re sleeping around with the maid, that devoted family man thing flies out the window.

C’mon, press! Wow me for a week by not writing crap like this.

[Source: Reuters]

This week, I didn’t seek out a movie for So Bad It’s Good. This etherial memory of my youth found me through a series of events involving the robbery of a friend (seriously) and our Friday Movie Night. Jess, old buddy. This one’s for you.

Beastmaster is, to say the least, not as I remember it. As a child, I viewed it as an epic story of a man’s gift to commune with nature and seek vengeance for the cold-blooded murder of his people. What my adult brain processes is virtually the same, only with the addition of some strangely sexual overtones and creep date-rape kissing scene. Now, I’m aware that this may not sound good, but let me asure you: it is.

The movie begins with a baby being stolen from his mother’s womb by a sexy witch with a butter face. The witch’s purpose is to murder the boy (why is never made clear, but it’s probably due to a prophesy), but she’s interrupted and killed by a noble hunter who saves and raises the boy. Through a Rocky-like training montage, we see the boy become a man, and that man watches his entire village get murdered.

Because rules are rules and you just don’t screw with the Beastmaster, he sets off for adventure in a newly-donned and randomly found short-shorts and gold tiara.

Just look at that goddamned tiara.

Along Beastmaster’s (also known as Dar, so you can see why he goes by Beastmaster) quest, he befriends a bevy of beastly benefactors some animals. First, he meets the ferrets Kodo and Podo, who are expert thieves, if mostly of keys and women’s clothing. Then there’s Ruh, a black tiger who menaces women into having sex with Beastmaster. And finally Sharak, a falcon who mostly flies around and watches stuff happen. Before you ask—no, I didn’t remember their names. I looked it up on Wikipedia, like a normal person.

As soon as his posse has assembled, Beastmaster wastes no time, having them kill all of the evil barbarians who murdered his family. The end. Actually, he gets distracted by naked women and, as mentioned, has his animals help steal their clothes, then pretends to rescue them from his pet tiger. A class act, this one.

Kiri, the object of Beastmaster’s creepy, kiss-forcing affections claims to be a slave girl. And while she’s grateful for him “saving” her, she runs off before he gets the chance to introduce his ferrets. Some women just don’t know how good they’ve got it.

This is a ferret in my pants and yes, he does have a friend.

Next, Dar runs into a hoard of nightmares from my childhood. Near-faceless bat-like creatures who wrap their wings around their victims and leave behind nothing but a pile of bones and a smell you’ll never get out of your loincloth. These moronic creatures don’t kill Dar because his falcon is the symbol for their god and I can’t help but notice how amazingly coincidental this all is.

The plot attempts twists at some point but they’re not worth paying attention to, much like I didn’t when I was a kid.

Dar soon meets his brother , who is set to succeed a blind king who was removed from power by the evil wizard Maax. Maax is played by the one and only Rip Torn, who, if you’ve been watching The Larry Sanders Show as much as I have lately, you’d expect to say, “Fuck it, I need a scotch,” at almost any moment.

In the finale, Beastmaster beats the crap out of Rip Torn (Beatsmaster, am I right?), and goes to celebrate, but not before Rip comes back for seconds and gets a face full of ferret. Unfortunately, he falls into a pit of fire and the ferret dies as well. This happens right before the end of the movie, which is a downer to say the least.

In a deus ex bat creature from earlier sort of ending, an outnumbered Beastmaster and friends get rescued by those falcon-loving freaks from before and all is well with the world… except for that smell. That smell is never coming out.

Before I begin discussing this movie, allow me to clarify: this is not Battle: LA. If you’re looking for a fun, non-stop alien invasion action movie, watch Battle: LA. If you’re looking for a crappy movie starring that kid Kel from Good Burger and Nia Peeples, watch Battle of Los Angeles.

The story is fairly simple. Aliens are revisiting earth after a confrontation led the U.S. armed forces to engage them in 1942. This time, the invaders mean business as they proceed to destroy vast portions of the city, while a rag-tag group of military folks overcome incredible odds to defeat the aliens. Rejoicing is witnessed. Feel the enthusiasm. Quake with triumph. Huzzah.

After a pointless dogfight where we learn the Earth is defenseless, we join a grizzled military colonel (Now with Signature Cigar and Hard-ass Attitude ®) yelling at some National Guardsman for what proved to be the longest, most pointlessly horrible scene I’ve ever witnessed in film. The camera cuts between the colonel shouting at the kid, the kid wincing and trying to make his hands move to start the jet, and Theresa June Tao (channeling Michelle Rodriguez) making snide remarks about how the kid is holding up her kick-assery. I longed for the real Michelle Rodriguez to rescue us all.

More characters get introduced for no reason whatsoever. The group needs to traverse the city to a rendezvous point and on their way, they run into what can only be described as a weird, stationary, mechanical, alien machine gun. Given the condition of their artillery, I’m shocked the aliens stood a chance against the Bloods and the Crips.

Eventually, they stumble across Miclone Rodriguez again and, I swear to god, Nia Peeples with a samurai sword. She’s plays a military special ops agent in a blue skin-tight jumpsuit wielding a goddamned katana. She arrives by leaping onto an enemy ship and destroying it with her katana. Get it? She’s a badass.

As awesome as this looks, don't be fooled. This movie is terrible.

For the sake of my sanity and your valuable reading time, I’m going to summarize the rest of the movie. Kel is the chosen one, he pilots an alien ship at light speed into the mother ship, and they fight a giant, squid alien at the end of the movie.

I won’t say there weren’t parts of this movie that I didn’t enjoy. The part where the alien spy sprays Nia Peeples in the face with what I can only presume was acid right before she cuts his head off, for instance, was a non-stop laugh riot. As a result, she winds up in an eyepatch for the rest of the movie. Like she needed to be more badass, am I right?

The rest of it? Meh. It wasn’t even laughably bad for the most part, it was just bad. My girlfriend (who mercifully watches this crap with me) summed it up best by saying, “Everything in this movie is anti-climatic!” I couldn’t agree more. So seriously, don’t watch this. And please, don’t get it confused with Battle: LA. That movie kicked ass. You watch that instead. I’ll let you know when it’s on Netflix.

What I learned from watching this trailer is that Mel Gibson does a killer Michael Caine impression.

But where it abounds in absurdity, it also seems to take itself quite seriously, which is hard for my brain to process. I’m going to do my best to reserve judgement and go into it with no expectations, but come on, this is hilarious:

What’s new on Netflix Instant this week? Let’s take a look and hope we don’t catch anything particularly virulent.

My Best Friend’s Wedding (5/6/11)

This Julia Roberts classic is finally available on Netflix Instant, so if you’ve been waiting, alone in the dark, wearing only your pajamas, clutching a slowly-thawing carton of ice cream and what’s left of your dying youth, wait no more! Julia Roberts plays a food writer who… seriously, how is this not a prequel to Eat, Pray, Love? Julia Roberts, why do you make so much money?

The Ten Commandments (5/6/11)

My first response to this listing was, “Christian Slater was in The Ten Commandments!?” The answer is yes! But it’s not the Charleton Heston epic, it’s some animated remake that doesn’t have Yul Brynner, so I don’t give a crap. PG, fun for the whole family, I’m sure. Parents: see if you can pick out which one is Christian Slater by the sound of desperation virtually oozing through your speakers.

The Guru (5/6/11)

This movie features both Marisa Tomei and Heather Graham. I’m not sure why they decided to do this movie, but perhaps they were getting a little low on their My Cousin Vinny/Boogie Nights money and had an itch for a Bollywood knock-off.

Whatever the reasons, I try not to judge a movie by a single image but…

eXistenZ (5/6/11)

From what I’m reading, this doesn’t sound all bad. An adventure sci-fi thriller starring Jennifer Jason Leigh and Jude Law with a Rotten Tomatoes ranking of 71%/65%? I may just have to watch this instead of ridicule it, even though eXistenZ of sounds less like a movie and more like a male enhancement pill. Side effects include fantasizing about David Cronenberg.

Battle of Los Angeles (5/5/11)

A friend of mine accidentally downloaded this thinking it was Battle: LA last week. According to him, it is not. It is, however another in a long line of releases from the minds that brought you hits like Transmorphers. Judging by the reviews on Netflix, I’m going to say they suckered enough suckers to do PT Barnum proud.

Kick-Ass (5/6/11)

Nicolas Cage plays Nicolas Cage in this gripping true story of a man driven over the edge, while his daughter and his desperate fans come to his aid. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll witness children do, say, and be exposed to things that they shouldn’t even wonder about!

There is a vast array of things that that could be said about Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus. For instance, one could say, “Truly a masterwork”.

In fact, one did say that. I did, not two nights ago when I sat down with my dearly beloved and watched this pile of crap gone film. Why would I say something so mind-numbingly stupid? Because, while the CGI is terrible, the acting is retarded, and the plot makes no sense, there is one thing that Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus is that you wouldn’t expect it to be, based on the rest of the words I’ve put together before these ones: Entertaining.

Now, I should be clear… this is only entertainment gained from the misfortunes of others. The Germans call it “schadenfreude”. I call it watching actors deliver awful lines, or observing giant, poorly animated sharks fight massive, poorly proportioned crocs.

Perhaps I’m strange, but I revel in lines like, “I’ve wrestled lizard creatures with two heads and fifteen tails who ate the flesh… of children.” and “I think the shark… just went nuclear.” getting croaked out by actors who presumably got paid to say these things.

It’s possible you remember one of these actors as “Urkel” from Family Matters, also starring Reginald VelJohnson. Here’s an animated GIF of Reginald VelJohnson, depicting me trying to make sense of things during Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus:

Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus follows Urkel playing the part of a Naval officer who is experimenting with hydro-sonic spheres, which repel sharks. Some vaguely British guy (I thought he was South African until I read otherwise) specializes in hunting monsters. Nothing matters after that except that the Crocosaurus has eggs that somehow attract the Mega Shark. We meander through the rest of the movie using these eggs as the plot device to keep things moving forward, pausing long enough to allow characters to deliver awesome lines like, “We don’t want this thing to buckle like a ping pong ball!” For the record, “this thing” happened to be a nuclear submarine.

In one sequence, the Crocosaurus was making its way to Orlando by way of Miami to rough the place up and lay some eggs in the Epcot Center. To turn the beast back, Urkel decides that what they need is an arc flash. So they overload a nuclear power plant to create some kind of electrical discharge, scaring the Crocosaurus and making it beat a hasty retreat back to the ocean. A lesser man would take this opportunity to point out how stupid this is, but I am going to commend Urkel for whipping out his finely crafted titanium balls.

This and other events culminate in a plan to trap the monsters in the Panama Canal because why not? Incredibly, this doesn’t work, Mega Shark and Crocosaurus go fin-to-claw, and now, I’m going to quote the Wikipedia article:

The fight causes a tidal wave that destroys the entire Panama Canal as both creatures continue to bite each other.

It’s important to note that they continue to bite each other.

In a display of its time management prowess, between the fighting and swimming around, the Crocosaurus managed to lay tons of eggs all along the coasts of the United States. They say that women are better multi-taskers than men, but before this movie, I didn’t believe it. Way to prove me wrong, Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus. Do you hear that? I think it’s the sound of us growing. Together.

Finally, someone got tired of writing this script and decided that Urkel should use that hydro-sonic sphere technology he’s been muttering about the whole movie to lure Crocosaurus, the hundreds (thousands!?) of baby Crocosaurus, and Mega Shark into an underwater volcano. See, that’s how you solve a problem: using underwater volcanoes.

Our heroes ride into the sunset, the credits roll, but here’s a pro-tip. Stick around after the credits. Sounds like there might be a problem with a giant lizard in Japan… *cue guitar solos*.

I don’t know what more to say about this movie other than this: See it. That deserves a couple of caveats. If you like Urkel, see it. If you like sharks, see it. If you like crocodiles and sharks, see it. If you don’t like crocodiles and sharks, see it (they die at the end, after all). If you do or do not like movies, see it.

It’s on Netflix Instant right now, so log in and watch it. Here’s a link to your login screen.

If one thing has become clear, it’s that Jim Caviezel enjoys being in abusive relationships.

Source: [The Huffington Post]