Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Presents!

My dear reader(s?), have I got the most fantastic present for you? Hell yes, I do. I have just returned home from the magical land of Blockbuster with many spoils of war. I have rented 4 fabulous films, which I will be reviewing forthwith. Said films are Whip It!, Surrogates, Nine (or 9, I suppose), and Pandorum (totally only rented it for Ben Foster. And because I just watched Ghost Ship).

Pandorum is now sitting in my DVD player, its menu music obnoxiously repeating itself, awaiting my signal to begin playing. That, however, is not the end of the good news. Yesterday, because I was downtown and it was goddamn freezing, I went to the mall. Seeing as I was there and all, I decided to venture into HMV. I said hi to Rob and we chatted a while, then I did what I do best and spent money. I purchased Lucky Number Slevin (I love, love, LOVE this movie!), Diary of the Dead (my favourite of the Dead), The Departed (which I have not seen), and The Last of the Mohicans (what? It was free). Those will also be under review after I have watched all of these (hopefully) fucking awesome movies.

Talk to you soon, dear reader(s?)! Or, I suppose, talk
at you.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Watch and Blog

Did anyone else watch Observe and Report? Yeah? Was anyone else incredibly disturbed by it? No? Just me?

Maybe I missed the humour, but that movie was seriously fucked up. I understand what's supposed to be funny about it. I don't understand how in the hell that wasn't one of the most disturbing movies ever.

No, it's not disturbing because of the five-minute-long scene of a fat, naked man running wild through the mall.

Though this is pretty fucked up.

I should probably explain myself here. Before watching Observe and Report, I read this article from Cracked.com that outlines several fan theories about different movies. The theory regarding Observe and Report postulates that everything after Ronnie, the protagonist, stops taking his medication takes place in his head.

At this point it would probably be helpful if I explained the plot for those who haven't seen the movie yet. The movie follows the head of mall security, Ronnie Barnhardt, through several big "cases" in the mall, such as the "mall flasher" pervert and the robbing of several stores in the mall. After the pervert flashes Brandi, a clerk at the makeup counter and girl of Ronnie's naï
ve dreams, the cops are called in to take over the case. Ronnie resents the interference and, in an attempt to show the detective running the investigation, he applies to join the police academy.

Unfortunately for Ronnie, he fails his psych exam after he stops taking his medication (he's bipolar) and his application is rejected. Ronnie takes rejection hard and lets Dennis, a fellow security guard, convince him that drugs and alcohol fix everything (which is ironic since Ronnie's mother is an alcoholic). During their drug binge, Dennis reveals that he's the thief that's been repeatedly robbing the mall. Dennis knocks Ronnie out when it becomes clear that Ronnie's not cool with that shit.

Ronnie subsequently loses his job, loses his shit, and tries to beat the shit out of a dozen cops as they attempt to remove him from the mall. When Ronnie re-enters the mall as a civilian to visit Nell, the chick who wasn't a total bitch/slut like Brandi, the mall pervert flashes him and Nell and he takes off after the naked flasher eventually shooting him before he has a chance to assault Brandi one last time. It should be noted that there was no evidence to suggest that the flasher was after Brandi, but early on, Ronnie fervently suggests that the flasher's true mission is to horribly murder her. The fact that the flasher runs straight for her in the end certainly lends credence to the "it's all in Ronnie's head" theory.

Without the "Ronnie's delusional" theory floating through your mind, the film could be considered funny (though really fucking depressing for a lot of it), if not incredibly awkward. When you watch it under the assumption that Ronnie's got a few screws and a fucking crowbar loose, it's a damn disturbing movie.

Maybe I'm thinking too much about a movie that's just supposed to provide a few laughs and show you Anna Faris' tits. Maybe it's the fact that even without thinking it's all in Ronnie's head, things get pretty damn fucked up. Whatever it is, the movie's a mindfuck, possibly on par with The Usual Suspects. It's got nothing on 2001: A Space Odyssey, though. Fucking HAL.

Also, holy shit. One picture for the whole post?

There, much better. Pictured: Seth Rogen in Observe and Report.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

6 Cinema Patrons Who Must be Stopped

If you've ever been to the movies, you've probably encountered one of these 6 cinema patrons. You have my sympathies. Like a law of physics, there is always at least one of the following annoying species of moviegoers at any showing. Yes, there will be lots of stereotyping in this post. It's more efficient that way.
"Sony"

1. Seat-Kickers
This is fairly self-explanatory, but for anyone who hasn't experienced the pleasure of sitting in front of one of these people, I'll expand. This breed of asshole is probably one of those jackasses who claim to have "restless leg syndrome" (a.k.a. "My inability to stop jiggling my fucking leg now has a fancy name and I can now be referred to as a 'sufferer'").
Alternate treatment: Remove head from anus.

If, during the course of a film, you feel a repeated banging on the back of your chair, disregard your first instinct. It's not a couple getting it on. It's a seat-kicker fulfilling his/her only purpose in life: ENRAGING OTHERS.

2. Loud Talkers
Yes, that is a phrase from Seinfeld. It's also the name of a particularly annoying type of cinema dipshit. Loud talkers are "people" who a) can't seem to shut the fuck up; and b) do that loudly. They are of the opinion that someone actually gives a shit about what they have to say, and that they would want to hear that opinion during a movie they paid $10 to see. To the loud talkers: NO ONE GIVES A SHIT, AND NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR IT. YOU'RE NOT CLEVER, SOMEONE ELSE ALREADY SAID IT, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

This, but LOUDER.

3. Hecklers
As cousins to the loud talkers, hecklers have all the family traits: loud, obnoxious, unbelievably stupid, annoying as fuck. The difference between these two inbred dumbasses is simple: loud talkers are talking to their "friends"; hecklers are talking to everyone.

Have you ever been watching a really intense movie when all goes silent for the dramatic climax, and into the silence, some cocksucking bastard shouts out, "Are they gonna kiss?!", or something equally retarded? Congratulations. You have experienced the heckler. Hecklers shout random shit that they think will make their retarded friends laugh during the most important (and usually silent or quiet) parts of any film. They operate under the illusion that they're funny and that people like hearing their input. Note: we DON'T.

4. Text Addicts
These douchebags can be easily spotted in the darkness of the theatre by the bright screen of their cell phones. The text addict's story is a sad one: brain-damaged by contact with a small technological device, the addict is plagued with the inability to interact with human beings in any low-tech capacity, having to use a texting interface to express any and all supposed thoughts and emotions.

This means that the text addict is physically incapable of not constantly texting during any event, despite having spent money to be there.


5. Parents with Young Children
I'm not complaining about kids and their parents at kids' movies. I'm complaining about those fucking moronic parents who bring their fucking toddler to a movie that's been rated anything over PG. Children under 13 should not be in a PG-13 movie. Not because they can't handle seeing it (though a fucking baby in 28 Weeks Later? For fuck's sake, people.), but because they're really fucking annoying. Kids seriously need a mute button.

6. Children
Many moons ago, I was at the movies, and very excited waiting for 28 Weeks Later to start. To my dismay, two 12-(or so)-year-olds and a man came up the stairs and sat down beside Pat and I. Four minutes into the film, the man fell asleep (and snored), and the little bastards wouldn't shut the fuck up. They seemed to think that getting into an R-rated film made them so cool. I asked them politely to shut it. Ten minutes later their volume was back to 11. I asked again. And nothing happened, again.

That's when I brought in the muscle. As I'm 5'1" and fairly harmless-looking, my telling them to shut the fuck up hardly had any effect. Pat, on the other hand, is a tall, burly, bearded man. So I told him to tell them to shut up. That didn't work either. Mostly because Pat's too nice to tell a stranger to be quiet, so he told me to shut up. Either way, I hate children.

7. The End
This isn't another category, just the end of the post. God, I hate children.