Aftermath: "Carny"

Movie:

"Carny" (2009) (TV); Sheldon Wilson, director with utmost contempt for viewing audience; Douglas G. Davis, writer who sneezed on keyboard while Microsoft Word was open and called it a script.

Genre:

So bad it's bad

Staring:

The Inevitable Lou "Diamond" Phillips; Alan C. "Lucky" Peterson; Vlasta "Vad-Ass" Vrana

Nodded Off/Nyquil Kicked In Around:

Not soon enough.

Observation/Life Lesson:

The Jersey Devil is real, but is only heard and seen mostly in shadow, as it is so ashamed of its poor rendering and rubberized appearance. "J.D.," as all his hipster friends call him, escapes early in the film from a carnival and apparently terrorizes the locals. Or maybe he just hangs out at Denny's. The first half of "Carny" isn't clear as to what, exactly, is causing the dismemberment of the local pasty-face teen set.

"Carny" also has a conspicuous lack of carnies, instead choosing to populate its carnival atmosphere with tattoo artists, people with giganticism, and Quatto from "Total Recall" fame. It's as if the producers wanted to do "Freaks" but with a sci-fi twist, and failed miserably.

It's obvious director Sheldon Wilson has nothing but bald-faced contemptible hatred for an audience he probably visualizes as a group of rural, low-life stoner hicks, which is a horrible ascertation, considering that some of us live in cities.

Writer Douglas G. Davis is a credit to all writers who envision, yet can't quite execute, having someone lose an eyeball to a monster who is not actually seen. Very impressive, considering he is listed on IMDB as a writer for Blues Clues

Lou Diamond Phillips seems to have resigned himself to the role of Sheriff of a Small Town Threatened By Crappy CGI Monster in films that inevitably wind up on SyFy, USA, or Chill. He already landed a role on Stargate Universe, so you'd think whatever penance he's doing would have been paid by now. The ghost of Richie Valens is probably very disappointed.

"Carny" Twittercast Transcript:

• A carny, in my understanding, is one who runs carnival rides. Ironically, "Carny," so far, has been carny-free.
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Lou Diamond Phillips is an inspiration to all those born without an upper lip.
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Chase sequence seems to have been choreographed by Benny Hill
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Quote of the night (so far): Pasty-faced teen: "Is that a foot?"
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Bad news: Jersey Devil has escaped carnival, leaving "cuts, bruises and broken bones." Good news: has only passing resemblence to Snooki.
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Half of this film seems to be LDP shaking his head & sighing in mild exasperation
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Concerned that the fake-outs seem horribly obvious
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• "Carny" thus far makes the bold statement "circus freaks are weird"
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• LDP plays a small town sherif in a low-budget direct-to-DVD horror flick. Big surprise. Yup.
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Less than 5 min in & someone's already lost an eye
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• One of these characters looks like the mutant offspring of Christopher Walkin and Jon Voight
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Sad to say "Carny" only reinforces gap-toothed hick/rubber monster stereotype
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Lou Diamond Phillips ... Carny ... Carnie Wilson ... Wilson Phillips!!!!!!
• about 21 hours ago via Twitterrific
• 
  
• Tonight's BTM: Lou Diamond Phillips in "Carny"
• about 22 hours ago via Twitterrific




Aftermath: "Carny"




Pardon our appearance

Hey, gang! We've made a few minor changes to make Bed Time Movies posts conform visually to a standard template. This only meant deleting every single one of them and then re-posting. Apologies for the deluge in your Google reader. We promise this won't happen again until the next time we're really bored.

–The Management




Pardon our appearance




Aftermath: "Alien: Resurrection"

Movie:

"Alien: Resurrection" (1997); Jean-Pierre Jeunet, dir.; Joss Whedon, writer

Genre:

The kind where giant black lobsters jump out of your chest

Staring:

Sigourney Weaver; Winona Ryder; Ron Perlman; and Robert Faltisco as "Soldier Shot Through Helmet"

Nodded Off/Nyquil Kicked In Around:

After we discover Ryder is a Secret Robot, but before Weaver makes sweet, sweet love with the alien

Observation/Life Lesson:

Aliens may look cute when they're babies growing up in a lab, but as they get older, their poop gets bigger and they become more stubborn, refusing to eat Science Diet you paid extra for and killing off your entire crew. While they lack the dander that cause people to be allergic to other pets, the fact that aliens bleed a highly toxic and corrosive acid make them unsuitable for children.

When we last left Ellen Ripley (Weaver) at the end of "Alien 3," she had just dove into a pit of molten metal, incinerating herself and killing the alien growing inside her, as well as the "Alien" franchise. It seemed everybody was happy, except for people who were hoping that Alien 3 would be a good movie, which it wasn't. It sucked on toast. Obviously we needed to clone Ripley and have a fourth movie.

Director Jean-Pierre Jeunet introduces the special extended edition of "Alien: Resurrection." At least that's what I think he's doing. He might be giving instructions on how to make a dirty bomb or announcing that Wolfgang Puck is going to make a delicious soufflé, his accent is so thick. But lo! Who cometh to write the script? Tis Joss Whedon, gentle naive who bequeathed us with "Firefly" and "Dr. Horrible's Sing-ALong Blog"! Maybe this wouldn't be a total waste.

Which it wasn't. There are some entertaining parts of "Alien Resurrection." Weaver's a little creepier than usual, and she pushes Ryder around some, which is neat to watch. Plus, you can see the origins of Wheadon's "Firefly" characters in the crew of smugglers who deliver human hosts for the aliens, only to get picked off one by one in predictable fashion. They're a little like the crew of the good ship Serenity, only lacking basic human understanding and a sense of humor.

While it's not horrible, "Alien: Resurrection" isn't a particularly good movie–Jeunet's obsession with the characters mugging into a wide-angle lens killed any hope of this winning a Golden Globe or even a Cable Ace Award. But it's far better than the next film in the franchise, 2004's "Alien Vs. Predator," which is a lot like saying a 1987 Chevrolet Celebrity is better than a 1978 Ford Pinto.

So maybe that's not the best compliment.




Aftermath: "Alien: Resurrection"




Dracapalooza!

We are a nation facing high unemployment, a lumberingly slow economic recovery, wars on two fronts and the constant threat of terrorism. So let's talk serious about the number one challenge facing America: Vampires.

Vampires have been a part of folklore for centuries, but it took Dracula to make the blood sucker into a character full of charm and sexuality. And that took a lot of Victorian cojones, my friend, to sex-up a creature that sleeps in a dirt-filled coffin and who comes to your room late at night to rip open your carotid artery and lap up the blood.

Since then, it seems, vampires have gotten ever classier, and I for one blame Anne Rice and the whole "Interview With A Vampire" thing for getting us to a point where the work of Stephanie Meyer is acceptable.

Because, let's face it, vampires are dicks. They stand outside your window at all hours of the night, looking pathetic, so you feel like you have to invite them in. And when they do come in, they wreak havoc, ruining your bed sheets because, hey, blood is hard to get out. Then you die. But you're not really dead. Instead you're stuck with pale complexion and have to obey this guy who insists on wearing a stupid-looking cape for all eternity.

So, fuck you, Dracula.

I recently viewed four films in about as many days that interpreted Bram Stoker's 1897 novel, and to be honest, none came close to the crappitude of "Twilight," though it's touch and go with Coppola's 1992 take.

The films

"Nosferatu" or "Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (Symphony of Horror)" (1922); F.W. Murnau, dir; Henrik Galeen, writer; Starring Max Schreck as Count Orlok, Gustav von Wangenheim as Hutter

"Dracula" (1931); Tod Browning, dir; Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston, writers, from the play by Garrett Fort, plus several uncredited other writers; Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula.

"Dracula" or "The Horror of Dracula" (1958); Terence Fischer, dir.; Jimmy Sangster, writer; Christopher Lee as Count Dracula, Peter Cushing as Dr. Van Helsing.

"Bram Stoker's Dracula" (1992); Francis Ford Coppola, dir; James V. Hart, writer; Gary Oldman as Count Dracula, Winona Ryder as Mina; Anthony Hopkins as Prof. Abraham Van Helsing; Keanu Reeves as – for some reason – Jonathan Harker.

Viewing experiences

In keeping with Bed Time Movies tradition, I watched these films right before bed. In breaking with tradition, I would finish a film the next day, before moving onto the next, if i fell asleep before finishing. Under these conditions, I found the first first, albeit unauthorized, film based on "Dracula," to be the best.

Technology evolved tremendously since the silent movie era, but it's the strangeness that comes with seeing a silent film, with all it's surreal oddities, in modern times that makes "Nosferatu" so compelling. It's an unsettling work. That Murnau and Galeen set the film in the mid-1800s and used Count Orlok – with his rat-like visage – as an analogy for bubonic plague somehow makes the menace of the vampire feel more immediate, more real.

It's Bela Lugosi's portrayal of a suave and very sexual Count Dracula, however, that will rightfully be forever associated with the character. Lugosi exudes an old-world charm that not even Connery's James Bond can top. This is one suave motherfucker, and no wonder people fall, at least at first, for his ruse.

Christopher Lee is often overshadowed when it comes to 20th Century Dracula lore, which is a shame, but blame the drac-spoliation films in which he starred following his 1958 debut as the character. Lee's Dracula is, pun intended, a towering menace. He's less a scenery chewer, more more business, which makes him a serious threat. "Horror" is a solid film, as is Lee's performance, and here's hoping that legions of Lord of the Rings fans will take a serious look at this film.

Coppola's version is the most visually striking (second only to the 19th Century Germany of "Nosferatu"), going full-bore with shadows that exist out of synch with their owners, and a Renfield who is truly loony tunes. But it falls flat in several crucial regards. If you had to cast Reeves as Harker, why the hell couldn't you change the character to be American, rather than try to make Keanu do an English accent?! Reeves is utterly terrible. The pressed fiberboard furniture in my apartment has better acting chops.

The problem is Drac-o himself. He spends almost all of the film as a huge dick, kidnapping people, killing the crew of the ship transporting his wrinkly ass to England, and turning himself into a wolf-man just to bump nasties with Lucy the Village Slut. He expends countless hours putting the moves on Keanu's wife (an almost equally miscast Ryder) and then, just as she's on the cusp of becoming the next Elvira, he tells her, "Oh, no, baby. I love you too much to turn you into some hideous bat-child!" Whatever. That's him trying to clear his conscious before committing an act of adultery that could last hundreds if not thousands of years – which he does, by the way. Know what, Dracula? If I were Van Helsing, I'd pound a stake right up your immortal ass, you shit-fuck.

Other than that, "Bram Stoker's Dracula" is a fine piece of filmmaking.




Dracapalooza!




Aftermath: "Battlefield Earth"

Movie:

"Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000" (2000); Roger Christian, dir.

Genre:

Science Fictionish

Staring:

A Creepier-Than-Usual John Travolta; Forrest Whitaker Who Should Have Known Better; and Barry Pepper as Jonnie Goodboy Tyler

Nodded Off/Nyquil Kicked In Around:

53 minutes, 52 seconds

Observation/Life Lesson:

It is as bad as you've heard. As a matter of fact, I'd say it's worse. Granted, I made it slightly less than half-way through, but that was long enough, thank you very much.

Battlefield Earth did not age particularly well. For all the money and star-power allegedly pumped into it, the film looks as though it was a made-for-cable thing – reminiscent of such Roger Corman-esque flicks like "Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus" or "Rodentz."

John Travolta as the film's lead Psychlo – a race of Reggae-loving super aliens – is perhaps the films' biggest disappointment. He proved resilient in "Pulp Fiction." And he chewed the holy living hell out of any scenery in reach in "Broken Arrow," a film that was delightfully bad in its own right. So why did he seem to choke on his own dreadlocks in "Battlefield Earth"? Why did his acting seem less Hollywood and more reminiscent of your local Catholic Church's annual passion play? Was it the horrible dialogue, which one can only assume came from an even worse script?

Well, yeah, probably.

I know the Church of Scientology makes a lot of people nervous. But if this sort of film (based on a novel by the church's founder L. Ron "Ronco" Hubbard) is all that it takes to keep them entertained, then I think we can all relax.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for me to be audited.

Click to read the Bed Time Movies Tweetcast of "Battlefield Earth"




Aftermath: "Battlefield Earth"




Aftermath: "A Christmas Carol"

Movie:

"A Christmas Carol" (1984, TV); Clive Donner, dir; Roger O. Hirson, screenplay, based on the story by Charles Dickens.

Genre:

Traditional Christmas.

Starring:

George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge.

Nodded off/Nyquil kicked in around:

Upon the exit of the Ghost of Christmas Past, before the Ghost of Christmas Present reveals the horrors under his robe – take that in anyway you wish.

Observation/Life Lesson:

The joy of this movie is not only that Scrooge is able to redeem himself, nor is it limited to the genuine creeps I still get whenever the Ghost of Jacob Marley becomes agitated. Moreover, this film shows us that those we should have loved accept our redemption, and love us in return.




Aftermath: "A Christmas Carol"




Tonight's Bed Time Movie: "A Christmas Carol" (1984)

Usually my choice of film for Bed Time Movie viewing is intentionally horrible. But, in keeping with the season, tonight I'm going to watch the 1984 made for TV adaptation of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol." I have very fond memories of watching this version as a child with my family. Today, we still agree that it's our favorite version of the Dickens' classic. This, despite the fact that the scenes featuring Marley's Ghost and the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come scared the bejesus out of me.

Happy Christmas to all, and to the late, great George C. Scott: No one did it better.




Tonight's Bed Time Movie: "A Christmas Carol" (1984)




Twittercast: "Robot Holocaust"




Twittercast: "Robot Holocaust"




Aftermath: "Robot Holocaust"

Movie:

"Robot Holocaust" (1987); Tim Kincaid, writer/director.

Genre:

Robotic Uprising Apocalypse Film … minus any overt attempts at even vaguely realistic robots. Captain Video had more realistic robots when they put a guy in cardboard box wrapped in tinfoil.

Staring:

Norris Culf as Neo (who made the name uncool long before Keanu Reeves); Nadine Hartstein as Deeja; J. Buzz Von Ornsteiner as Klyton (I'm not sure which name is more annoying).

Nodded off/Nyquil kicked in around:

According to my internal chronometer: 00:39:43 into viewing.

Observation/Life Lesson:

Holocaust denial has long been the sport of those who no longer wish to associate with reality in any way. I'm at a loss as to explain how anyone can engage in such an activity. Over 6 million Jews and millions more "undesirables" … do you think they all moved to Tulsa?

On the other hand, it's something both racist red necks and Mahmud Ahmadinejad can agree on.

Then there's Robot Holocaust denial, which is something I fully endorse. Why? There is little to no evidence that robots annihilated their human masters in the year 33 "by the billions," as told in the film's prologue. Besides, if such an event did occur, to would make it nigh-impossible for the events described in the Queen space-folk song "'39" to occur. I refuse to accept that.

As for the film itself? The so-called "Robot Holocaust" really just an excuse to run around northern New Jersey in loincloths purchased at K-Mart. Besides, Flight of the Conchords has a more realistic take on robotic uprisings:




Aftermath: "Robot Holocaust"




Aftermath: "Hercules In New York"

Movie:

"Hercules In New York" (1970); Arthur Allan Seidelman, dir. (if you can call it "directing.")

Genre:

Hard to pin down. I'd say comedy, but it's not very funny. Nor can I say action/adventure, as it has neither. Like the duck-billed platypus, "Hercules In New York" belongs in a classification all its own. If I had to name it, I'd dub the genre Austro-Grecko Historical Drama/Tradgedy.

Staring:

The life-like body of Arnold Schwarzenegger (billed as Arnold Strong "Mr. Universe"), the intolerable visage of Arnold Stang.

Nodded off/Nyquil kicked in around:

Mercifully soon.

Observation/Lie Lesson:

"Hercules In New York" has many things to teach us. First, it doesn't matter how thick your Austrian accent, some poor slob will overdub your lines in post. Second, you can bounce back from nearly anything and become governor of the most popular state in the union.

Finally, if you're a bear, or even a man in a bear suit, do not frack with Hercules. You're warned.




Aftermath: "Hercules In New York"




Tonight's Bed Time Movie: "Hercules In New York"

Having just returned from the Big Apple, I was aware that something was amiss. No where in New York, did I see an over-dubbed Austrian bodybuilder telling me to "git in da choppah!"

Originally known as Hercules Goes Bananas (according to Wikipedia), H in NY looks as though it may set the collision course for wackiness, with director Arthur Allan Seidelman at the helm and a 23-year-old Arnold manning the poop deck.




Tonight's Bed Time Movie: "Hercules In New York"




In defense of The 13th Warrrior and Eaters of the Dead

For better or worse, Eaters of the Dead is one of Michael Crichton’s more overlooked works. In the afterword, Crighton says he conceived of the book as a retelling of Beowulf. Rather than structure Eaters like a traditional novel, he writes as if transcribing a 10^th Century travelogue.

Crichton takes a historical figure, Ahmad Ibn Fadlan, an ambassador of the Caliph of Baghdad who made early contact with Vikings around 922 A.D., and uses him to retell the tale of a Norse community under threat by an unnamed terror. In a way, this makes sense, as readers would probably relate more towards the civilized and monotheistic Arab than with pagan Vikings who, by Ibn Fadlan’s account, had horrible table manners.

Crichton even goes so far as to invent sources that he used for footnotes to try to give Eaters a flare of authenticity. Whereas Eaters of the Dead was written to simulate a discovered manuscript, the film version titled The 13^th Warrior is a more by the numbers action/adventure.

Critics almost universally revile the 13th Warrior, which was directed by John McTiernan before being reportedly salvaged by Cricton in reshoot. In his review, Roger Ebert gave it a paltry one and a half star, stating, “it displays a lot of cash on the screen, but little thought. To extract the story from the endless scenes of action and carnage is more effort than it's worth.”

The decidedly non-Arab Antonio Banderas stars as Ibn Fadlan and performs passably, as does the rest of the cast. They’re not reading Shakespeare, of course.

In both the film and the book, the Vikings love being Vikings. They’re mostly a happy lot and all the really want to do is die well – on their feet, in battle. Essentially, they are Klingons.

The carnage Ebert describes isn’t done in any campy tongue-and-cheek sort of way. There are no terrible puns and clichés. Ibn Fadlan never says “I’m getting too old for this shit,” or quips “don’t get ahead of yourself” after beheading a heavy.

The Vikings are mostly of good cheer, and even though they’re habits and rituals border on the savage, there’s enough good humor so that you’d have them over to watch the Superbowl. These are Men, unapologetically macho. They don’t stand around and talk about their feelings.

The role of women in Eaters of the Dead is practically nil–the narrator mentions them in passing, usually in describing their presence as sexual vessels. And while there is a token love interest in the film version, make no mistake. This is strictly a boys club whose answers to life’s problems can be summed up with “grow stronger.”

Despite all these faults, I think I’m one of the few people who actively enjoy this story. One of the big pluses is that finally there is an Arab hero.

Ibn Fadlan is one of the few Middle Eastern characters in Hollywood whose main job isn’t to give Bruce Willis or Arnold Shwartzenegger someone to punch. Arabs are more accurately portrayed as epochs of culture and civility, which is historically accurate. Around 921 AD, Baghdad was making huge advances in arts and science while most of Western civilization was figuring out the correct burning temperature for witches.

While Ibn Fadlan is mostly an observer, the character is essential. The reader or viewer needs someone civil in order to tell the story; otherwise you’d have 300, a film that is infinitely worse.

Eaters of the Dead, once you ignore footnotes that serve more of a distraction than give it an aire of historical authenticity, reads at a good clip. It’s a page-turner for an airline, good escapist literature. The 13^th Warrior is likewise escapist. I wouldn’t deconstruct it any more than I would Die Hard (another McTiernan film) or National Treasure. Both are a decent way to spend an afternoon, especially if you’ve got a thing for Vikings.




In defense of The 13th Warrrior and Eaters of the Dead




The most metal and non-metal moments in "Metallica: Some Kind of Monster"

Today's post is in conjunction with our sister blog, TheFiver. See the way Metallica brings families together?

Between the time bassist Jason Newsted left the metal giant Metallica in 2001 and the release of the album St. Anger in 2003, a documentary was made, basically chronicling a band who seemed to have lost its way. Much of the film involved conflict between front man James Hetfield and drummer Lars Ulrich, with guitarist Kirk Hammett timidly caught in the middle, like a child watching his parents divorce.

"Metallica: Some Kind of Monster" received a better critical reception than St. Anger, an album undermined by mixing that made a murky and incoherrent soup out of intense rhythms (Metallica would later get back to basics on 2008's Death Magnetic). Meanwhile, the doc secured a 74 on Metacritic, with the New York Times calling it "a psychodrama of novelistic intricacy and epic scope." The Washington Post also heaped on the praise: "Absorbing, funny, exhilaratingly entertaining ride through two years in the life of the most successful heavy metal band in history."

"Some Kind of Monster" brings Metallica's rock star gods down to a more human level. It's ridiculous to expect any band except for the most hard-core satanic Scandinavian bands to be metal all the time, but it's still a little disappointing to see Metallica as so … mortal.

Bed Time Movies and theFiver presents: The most metal and non-metal moments in "Metallica: Some Kind of Monster"

NOT METAL:

In 2001, Metallica seeks therapy
You don't talk about your feelings if you're metal. You only about death.

Lars talks about his paintings
Lars doesn't paint guts exploding out of a decayed carcass. They're more abstract. When he auctions off his work, he doesn't use the proceeds to buy machine guns.

Kirk replaces drinking and drugs with surfing
His surfboard does not contain spikes, nor are the edges razor sharp.

Metallica comes up with a mission statement of what they want to accomplish in therapy
Mission statements are not metal.

Kirk appears wimpy throughout the film
He enjoys horseback riding on his beautiful and pristine ranch. It's not a death-ranch, and I don't think he eats the horses.

Lars says he wants James Hetfield to be "the best person he can be"

Former member Dave Mustaine's teary confessions of inadequacy in a therapy session with Lars
You're Dave Freakin' Mustaine! You front a band called Megadeth!



Hetfield comes back from rehab wearing geek glasses
Also complains the documentary makes him feel like he's "in the spotlight all the time."

Hetfield attends his daughter's ballet recital
The ballet isn't about death, nor is it performed to symphonic metal.

Lars goes running for exercise and enjoyment

No fans are killed during Fan Appreciation Day

Hetfield talks about "abandonment issues"
He complains he cannot "get close" to people.

Kirk gets all zen.
He tries to be "egoless." You're the lead guitarist in Metallica, dude. You ought to be wearing giant bat wings and breathing fire. Also, showing off your wang.

Lars complains about getting ostracized by fans after suing Napster

Hetfield performs voice and scale exercises
Ought to have been performing growling and blood-drinking exercises.

The band talks about using "positive energy" to make the album
The album is called "St. Anger."

The band gets all weepy now that the album is done
You don't get weepy. You drink awful American beer and do horrible things for which you will need to a powerful defense attorney.

METAL:

Newsted quits the band
Quitting the band is so metal!

Hetfield drives a hotrod and gets pulled over
He also rides a big freakin' chopper.

Hetfield's vacation photos
He killed a bear while in Siberia. Killing and bears are both metal. Killing a bear is the most metal thing you can do on vacation.

Lars calls Hetfield "a complete dick!"
Metal!

Hetfield storms out of recording studio, slamming door
Also metal!



Lars' dad
Totally metal! He's got a long beard, a funny accent, and he hates the new album!

Newsted's band Echobrain
When his former band mates come to see Echobrain at a club, Newsted completely blows them off, after which, Lars laments, "I'm in f---ng hell."

The lyrics "My lifestyle determines my deathstyle."
That's Metalocalypse-metal.

During a band meeting, Lars complains about "all the f---ing rules!"
Also throws an f-bomb right in Hetfield's face. Very metal.

Lars makes the best metal face while recording drum tracks

Band hires ugliest bassist they can find to replace Newsted

Shot video for new single in a maximum security prison
That's pretty freaking metal.




The most metal and non-metal moments in "Metallica: Some Kind of Monster"




15 Isolation, Irony and Plan 9

I think I just bested irony fatigue.

Said fatigue may have started with the first Scream film and then crescendoed with the DOA “Snakes On A Plane.” However it happened, I’m just worn out by it.

It seems that in popular culture everyone is snarky, every comment is sarcastic, and it seems nothing earnest can be taken at face value. I used to thrive on snark, and now I feel isolated by my aversion to it – kind of like the strange isolation I felt in high school, where I never knew how to fit in, and forget about ever talking to girls.

I think isolation leads many of us to gravitate towards science fiction – a genre whose characters are often loners, due to a variety of circumstances. Spock doesn’t fit in on the Enterprise because he’s the only alien on the bridge. Dave had to discover the meaning of the monolith on his own in “2001: A Space Odyssey,” thanks to HAL.

I have little doubt that Hollywood’s most infamous science fiction director, Edward D. Wood, felt very isolated in his professional and personal life. Most of my knowledge of the director comes the biopic “Ed Wood” and whatever films of his were roasted on Mystery Science Theater 3000, a show that could satirize without condescension – a lost art. Mystery Science Theater has been off the air 10 years now, but the spirit lives on in DVDs produced by Cinematic Titanic and Riff Trax.

Riff Trax provides riffing on often-popular films that you synch to your own copy of The Matrix or Road House. Recently, Michael J. Nelson, Kevin Murphy and Bill Corbert presented a version of Riff Trax wherein they roasted “Plan 9.” It was a live event simulcast to movie theaters across the country and will be shown again tomorrow.

When I went to the live broadcast at a local theater, I was a little worried that people other than my friends and myself would show up. Riff Trax works for me as a really good, private joke. For example, if the Riff Trax-derived phrase “He’s on the thunder bucket” (see “300”) were to become the next “who’s your daddy?” I would have to abandon Riff Trax forever.

There was a decent-size gathering for Riff Trax Live. But even before the actual riffing of Plan 9 began, any trepidation turned to comfort, as everyone around me was singing along to the chorus of Jonathan Coulten’s “RE: Your Brains” and laughing at the same absurdist humor I was so enjoying.

Leaving the theater, I heard some people debate the virtues of TV’s Frank vs. Professor Bobo. Good Lord, I thought. I can’t believe other people have these conversations! I am not alone!

Isolation, as it turned out, was bested by a sense of community. A community that likes to laugh at really bad films.

Just as a side note, it seems like the Riff Trax people could have just roasted the film and called it good. However, they seemed to really want us to get our monies’ worth. There was music by Coulton and the Rifftones, faux commercials and even riffing on a short. It’s amazing how much heart was put into the event. I wonder if Michael Bay thinks that the more CGI crap he can fling on the screen, the better his audience would respond. But I felt much more connected to the Riff Trax presentation than I could have ever felt to Pearl Harbor.

Thank you, Riff Trax. You’ve restored my faith in irony. 


15 Isolation, Irony and Plan 9




Aftermath: "2012- Doomsday"

Movie:

"2012: Doomsday" (2008); Nick Everhart, dir

Genre:

Godsploitation

Staring:

A lot of people you've never, ever heard of.

Nodded off/Nyquil kicked in around:

Who can sleep? It's Doomsday!

Observation/Life Lesson:

Don't judge a low budget disaster/faith picture by its promotional material – ie, the tsunami pictured on the DVD case may not actually occur in the film. Also, if you have faith and pray real hard, God will see to it that your friends get raptured away while you're stuck on Earth, trying to figure out what the hell the Mayan calender, a solid gold crucifix, a pregnant lady and some really bad CGI has to do with the end of days.

For anyone reading this, be forewarned, even at only 85 minutes, this film will violate the intelligence of both the faithful and faithless alike.




Aftermath: "2012- Doomsday"