Andrew Buckley's "HAIR IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES" Cover Reveal, 1st Chapter and Giveaway!
Word from the Editor of The After Movie Diner:
I know, normally, this is a movie website. It is, however, also an ongoing, ever changing, personal project and it would be nowhere and nothing without its supporters, friends, fans and followers.
One such chap, that I am proud and honoured to call a personal friend, Andrew Buckley is an accomplished, hilarious and very talented author.
He has guested on The After Movie Diner podcast, he was a member of #TeamDuckBoobs way-back-when on Twitter and he gave this amateur podcaster chance after chance as he enthusiastically pursued me to do voices, audio ads and ultimately an audio book version of his first novel, "Death, The Devil and The Goldfish."
He also, miraculously, forgave me and understood when personal issues and work commitments meant that I didn't follow up and do further audio books for him (although I dearly wish I had the time and stamina).
It is for this reason, and so many more, that we here at The After Movie Diner are over the moon, enthusiastic, incredibly honoured and proud to be one of the blogs chosen to do a cover and first chapter reveal for his new novel, "Hair in all the Wrong Places"
So please, even if you're a casual reader of this blog, take a look below, take a read of the chapter and take part in the fantastic giveaway!
Congrats Andrew, you're a legend, may you have every success with this my friend!
Today Andrew Buckley and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for HAIR IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES! Which
releases June 7, 2016! Check out the awesome cover and enter to be one of the
first readers to receive an eGalley!!
Here’s a message from the author:
Hair in All the Wrong Places is the result of a
misspent childhood watching late night movies about werewolves and other
creatures that go bump in the night. The story follows Colin Strauss; an
outsider in the small town of Elkwood who, in addition to dealing with the
struggles of puberty, also finds himself being turned into a werewolf. As if
dealing with homework, bullies, and an unrealistic crush on the hot goth girl
wasn’t enough! I love this cover because it perfectly captures Colin’s
character and his discovery that he might indeed be growing hair in all the
wrong places.
Title: HAIR IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES
Author: Andrew
Buckley
Pub. Date: June 7, 2016
Publisher: Month9Books
Format: Paperback
& eBook
What has he done?
What's happening to
him?
And what on Earth is that smell?
For Colin Strauss, puberty stinks.
Blackouts, hallucinations, and lapses in memory are the perils of growing up
werewolf.
Worse than that, Colin worries he might
have had something to do with the recent attacks on townspeople. He may have
eaten a person. It doesn’t matter that it’s someone he doesn’t particularly
like. What kind of boy goes around eating people?
Foolishly, all Colin can think about is
how Becca Emerson finally kissed him for the first time. Yep. Hormones are
afoot. Or at hand. Yikes.
But girls will have to wait. Collin
better get himself under control before someone else ends up hurt . . . or
worse.
Excerpt
First, a word of warning …
I don’t want to get too scientific here, but there are a few things you should know before you sink your teeth into this book. I’ve tried to keep it simple enough that anyone twelve and up could read and understand it. Werewolves were everywhere in Europe in the late sixteenth century. Go to a party, there would be a werewolf. Go to work, you’re probably working next to a werewolf. Bump into a stranger on the street—werewolf!
They were slowly killed off in Europe as the true nature of a werewolf is a terribly hard thing to control. Eventually you get that urge to eat someone. And let’s face it; eating people is just rude.
Now here’s the scary bit, the bit that concerns you. While werewolves ceased to be a part of the world, they didn’t necessarily leave it. On the contrary, humans evolved to repress the werewolf gene out of the fear they would be decapitated, shot with a silver bullet, burned alive, or a terrifying combination of all three. What this means is that every single human being is still carrying the werewolf gene. You, right now, sitting right where you are, has the werewolf gene swimming around somewhere inside of you.
Genes are strings of DNA. DNA makes you who you are. You have that werewolf gene inside you. It’s just not active. Not yet.
To fully activate that werewolf gene, you’d have to be bitten by another werewolf, someone who turns into a giant wolf-like creature when there’s a full moon. So fear not! As long as no one has bitten you recently, you’re likely okay.
So why this warning? You’re probably thinking there’s no chance I’ll turn into a werewolf because I haven’t been bitten. That is absolutely true. However, while it’s impossible to turn into a werewolf unless you’re bitten, it is very possible to awaken that sleeping werewolf gene by learning too much about them. This book will teach you a lot about those hairy creatures of the night, so I want you to be extra careful while reading it.
If you notice any of the following things, stop reading immediately:
- You find yourself looking at other humans and thinking lunch.
- You start to notice smells you never smelled before.
- You growl at people instead of talking to them.
- Your nails begin to grow at an alarming rate.
- You scratch your head in public using your leg.
- You greet your friends at the bus stop by sniffing their butts.
- You begin to grow hair in all the wrong places.
You’ve been warned.
Chapter One Loser
Colin looked directly into the reflection staring back at him from the bathroom mirror and with absolute conviction said, “You are a loser.”
His reflection agreed.
Much as he had done almost every day for the last year, Colin evaluated his body. He was tall for a thirteen year old, with lanky limbs and broad pointy shoulders that bordered on skeletal. His face looked to be at odds with the rest of his body with its gaunt features and perpetually dark circles beneath the eyes. Pale skin stood in stark opposition to his unruly dark and stringy hair. Trying to sharpen his vision, he squinted before fumbling with his glasses.
His reflection didn’t look any better with them on.
After drying off, Colin got dressed and headed downstairs.
“Why are you dressed like that?” snapped his grandmother from her usual place in front of the TV. She hadn’t even looked at him yet, not that it mattered. Colin didn’t know what was more disturbing: that despite his grandmother being completely blind, she still watched TV religiously and commented on his clothes every day, or that he still felt the need to defend his choice of clothing to her. He was wearing jeans and an oversized hoody.
“It’s school today, Grandmother. I’m dressed for school,” he murmured.
“I know that!” she spat.
Nothing wrong with her hearing, though.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
His grandmother sipped tea from a china cup. “I can take care of myself, you little ingrate. Get to school. You’re going to be late. If you don’t get an education, I’ll never get your lazy butt out of here.”
There was no point in arguing.
“And comb your hair before leaving the house. I don’t want people thinking I’m raising a hobo!” she said.
As Colin walked past the living room, his grandmother turned around in her chair and stared in his general direction with gray eyes damaged irreparably by cataracts. Blind eyes followed him as he walked to the door as quickly as he was able. It wasn’t until he was outside with the door firmly closed behind him that he allowed himself to breathe again.
Colin’s grandmother had always terrified him. He couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t blind or cruel. Colin’s parents lived in Seattle and over the past thirteen years had managed to have as little to do with their only son as humanly possible. They were young when his mother had discovered she was pregnant, and the following nine months had put a severe dent in their career plans. They were both up-and-coming lawyers at large firms, and as soon as they could be rid of Colin, they’d passed him off from one distant relative to another. Beyond that, they had no parental aspirations whatsoever.
Just over a year ago, after a short stint living with an uncle and aunt in Ohio, Colin had been sent to the small town of Elkwood to live with his only living close relative—his grandmother, Beatrice Strauss.
She hadn’t welcomed him, there were no hugs, no loving relationship, just a bitter old woman who spent most of her days parked in front of the TV and commenting on what a disappointment Colin was. He’d tried to help her, but she never wanted it. Despite being blind, she was more than able to get around and take care of herself. The only time she left the house was to attend the monthly town hall meetings to which he was never invited.
Colin was twenty feet from the bus stop when the school bus flew by. The mocking grins of students plastered the bus’s back window as it disappeared over the hill. Thankfully, the school was centrally located, which meant he’d be only slightly late.
On his way to school, Colin passed Mrs. Flipple, a kind old lady who walked her tiny, yappy dog, Jinx, each morning, rain or shine. As per usual, Jinx went straight for Colin, yapping in that high-pitched bark that only small, irritating dogs can make. Colin nodded politely to the old lady and held on to a secret hatred for that little dog.
The town was always overcast, and it rained almost every day of the year, which suited Colin’s depressed personality. He was thankful he didn’t live in a warmer climate as he’d have a much harder time being pale and awkward.
He’d survived the seventh grade at Elkwood School with above-average grades and a below-average number of friends. He was still considered a stranger here. His lack of personality, athleticism, and sense of humor didn’t help in the slightest. He wasn’t handsome enough to be popular or ugly enough to be ignored. He was just weird enough that students could be heard wondering aloud about him as he walked by. Now in the second week of his eighth grade year, Colin had one sort of friend, one unrealistic crush, and was the constant focus of several bullies who were determined to make his life miserable.
Loser.
He reached Elkwood School just as the second bell rang to indicate the start of classes. On average, each grade at the school contained only twenty to thirty students, and because of a limited number of teachers, some classes taught more than one grade or subject.
As Colin ran up the steps to the main entrance, a dark, looming shape confronted him. He looked up into the face of Principal Hebert.
“You’re late again, Mr. Strauss.” His voice sounded like rumbling thunder.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hebert. I missed the bus.”
“While I admire your use of a classical excuse, I’d prefer if you’d made an attempt at originality. Had you been more creative, I would not feel the need to place you in detention.”
“I’m really sor—”
“But as you’re still trying to apologize rather than give me something interesting to work with, I’ll be seeing you after school.”
Colin studied his feet carefully. “Yes, sir.”
“Run along.” Mr. Hebert gestured, pushing his hand ahead of him in a forward motion.
Colin made his way into the building and chanced a glance back to see Principal Hebert slowly shaking his head. Hebert was a former marine and rumored war hero who had retired to Elkwood almost ten years ago and although he had absolutely no qualifications had been appointed as the school principal. He was a massive hulk of a man with the sort of physique that suggested he could bend large metal things with his bare hands. Principal Hebert was a firm believer in detention and hard work and often liked to combine the two. Most detentions involved cleaning something. Colin made a mental note that his day was not off to a rip-roaring start.
Can’t get any worse.
Colin’s day quickly got worse.
He moved down an empty corridor, his sneakers squeaking loudly on the clean laminate flooring before entering the last classroom on the right.
The entire class turned to look at him. Some groaned, others laughed, a few smirked. Mrs. Davenport was the substitute teacher again today for Biology, and she greeted him with a warm smile.
“Good morning, Colin. Please take a seat. We were just getting started.”
Colin shuffled over to his seat next to Jeremy Rodson, the only person in Elkwood Colin could refer to as a friend. Everyone liked Jeremy even though he had never really joined one particular group. He played on the basketball team, so the jocks liked him. He was smart and maintained decent grades, so he was accepted by the smart kids. He was a good actor, so the creative types liked him. Colin had met him on his first day, and Jeremy had introduced him to the school. With so many commitments, Jeremy wasn’t always around, so Colin was still forced to maintain his unhappy, loner lifestyle.
“No Mr. Winter again?” Colin asked quietly.
“Apparently he’s sick,” said Jeremy and grinned. “Why are you so late?”
“Missed the bus.”
“Detention again?”
“Yup.”
“Pay attention, boys,” said Mrs. Davenport with a smile. She was flipping through a PowerPoint presentation about pheromones.
As the only substitute teacher in the small Elkwood School, Mrs. Davenport was never short of work. She was also the kindest teacher that Colin had ever encountered. Her presence had a calming effect on the students that Mr. Winter could never manage.
Mr. Winter was a jerk. It wasn’t just Colin’s opinion but more of a collective agreement throughout the entire school, including the teachers. An uptight individual in his late thirties, he had a particular hatred for students, teaching, other teachers, and did I mention, students? A few years ago, Mr. Winter’s entire family—wife, parents, grandparents—had been killed in a car accident, and rumor had it that the insurance settlement had been sizeable. The rumor quickly proved true when Mr. Winter started travelling the better part of the school year.
“Pheromones indicate the availability of a female for breeding.” Mrs. Davenport was met with a round of sniggers. “Well, it’s true,” she said calmly. “All animals excrete pheromones, and they can indicate a variety of things. Anything from sex to marking territory, and it can even act as a defense mechanism.”
“Colin, you should get yourself some pheromones,” said Gareth Dugan from behind a textbook. His cronies laughed in honor of their leader’s display of wit.
Gareth was a bully with scraggly hair and a troubled complexion. Having been raised on a farm on the outskirts of Elkwood, Gareth had always struck Colin as being quite large for his age. Gareth didn’t like Colin, but then, the feeling was mutual.
“Why would I need pheromones?” shot back Colin. “Your smell already overpowers everything in the room.”
That probably wasn’t smart.’
The entire room agreed with him by sitting in absolute silence.
“That’s enough,” said Mrs. Davenport and cheerfully continued to describe other chemical factors that trigger social responses.
Colin dared a glance back to see Gareth glaring at him like a lion eyeing an injured antelope.
Gareth would inevitably seek revenge. Colin didn’t need a chemical factor to trigger a social response. All he had to do was open his mouth.
He tried his best to concentrate on his textbook, opened at random, but his thoughts remained fixed on how to save himself a beating Jeremy, who remained happily oblivious and completely free of any such dealings, leaned over enthusiastically.
“Did you take a look at Tori yet? Classic Tori outfit.” He grinned and subtly tilted his head backward. Having developed earlier than any other girl in school, Tori was the blond bombshell of Elkwood. Okay, she was more like a small nuclear explosion. To aid the raging hormones of teenage boys, she made a habit of wearing low-cut shirts complimented by extremely short skirts.
Mrs. Davenport turned to the whiteboard, and Colin glanced back three rows on the right to see Tori conveniently perched on the edge of her stool wearing a short powder-blue skirt and knee-high boots.
Colin’s eyes followed the curves of her body upward until he realized she was looking directly at him with a wry smile. He blushed instantly, but the awkward moment was suddenly interrupted as a textbook smashed into the side of his head, sending his glasses skittering across the desk and onto the floor.
The class laughed as Colin slipped from his stool and crawled around in front of the desk, searching for his glasses.
Mrs. Davenport whirled around, spied Colin on the floor, and asked, “What was that? Colin, what are you doing?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Davenport. Just looking for my glasses.”
The bell rang before any further interrogation could be made, and the class headed for the exit. Colin still couldn’t find his glasses.
Ironic. If I was wearing my glasses, I’d have no trouble finding them.
The side of his head was throbbing from where the textbook had struck him. No doubt Gareth or one of his minions to thank for that.
Colin stood and came face-to-face with Becca Emerson, his heartbeat doubling in speed.
“I found your glasses,” she said, handing them over.
“Uh, thanks, B-Becca.”
The rest of the class had cleared out. He put on his glasses, and she came into focus. Around his height with fiery red hair and pale skin, Becca displayed a standoffishness that made most people avoid her. She wasn’t developed like Tori, but neither were most cover models. Becca was a little like Jeremy in that she didn’t associate with any one group, but where he belonged to everyone, she tended to avoid all people. Her dad was some sort of government worker, which translated to “spy” to most middle schoolers.
Becca always wore dark makeup and dark clothes making her look paler than she actually was. She maintained high grades, avoided large groups, and Colin had loved her since he first saw her. It was, of course, a secret love because there was no way he could ever work up the nerve to do anything about it.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Oh, that voice.
“Uh, yeah. Just another head wound. Probably won’t be the last.” He attempted a half-hearted grin.
They awkwardly stared at each other as Colin’s mind raced for something smart to say.
What do I say? You’re gorgeous? Want to share a slushee? Marry me?
“Okay, well have a good day,” said Becca, and left.
Smooth, Strauss. Very smooth.
Not the most suave guy at the best of times, Colin managed to be even less so around Becca. How would he ever be able to ask her out, let alone have an entire conversation with her if he didn’t even manage to open his mouth?
***
Having made it to last period unscathed, Colin was busy staring at Becca as the minutes on the clock clicked by while he planned his escape. He would have to move fast, get out of the school, and off the grounds. He’d skip the bus altogether—
“Wonder what Hebert’s going to have you do for detention today? My money is on cleaning the gym floor,” said Jeremy.
Detention!
“I’m so screwed.”
“It’s not that bad, just cleaning.”
“Not that,” groaned Colin. “Gareth got detention in third period.”
“Well at least you’ll have company,” said Jeremy unhelpfully.
The bell rang, and Colin’s heart skipped a beat.
“Just once Jer, just once I’d love to be as oblivious as you are.”
“You got detention today, Colin?” asked Becca.
Colin almost dropped his books. He hadn’t noticed her approach. “Uh, yeah. I was late today.”
“I know. I was there.”
“Right.”
“I was wondering if I could talk to you. Alone. I can walk you to your detention.”
“I’ve got to run anyway. Catch ya later.” And with that, Jeremy bounced off.
“Y-yeah, of course,” said Colin. This was new territory. Other than the occasional passing pleasantry, Colin had never had a full conversation with Becca. They walked down the south corridor toward the detention room at the back of the school.
“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” said Becca without looking at him. “It must be strange to move here. Most people are born here these days.”
“Uh, yeah, I’ve heard that. No one ever moves to Elkwood.”
“The people here aren’t open-minded. They only know what they know. And who they know. This probably isn’t making any sense.”
“No. I mean, yeah. Well. No, no it’s not.”
Becca turned to him. Her eyes were a deep hazel color, he’d never noticed before. She put a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly his insides were on fire. It was only a moment, but Colin felt as if she was looking through him.
Colin was way beyond his comfort zone and didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to say something? Did she want him to kiss her? Or was he misunderstanding her? When it came to reading girls, he was dyslexic. On the flipside, Becca Emerson was actually touching him! With her actual hand! But then she took her hand away and for a moment looked sad.
“I’m sorry, Colin. I thought maybe … but no.” She sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see things clearly here.”
Colin had no idea what she was talking about; he was still reeling from her touch and for once actually managed to say something. “Maybe you could help me?”
Did I just say that?
What was he thinking?
“I have to go. My dad will wonder where I am. Good luck in detention.”
And just like that, she was gone.
The ominous voice of Principal Hebert floated down the hallway. “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Strauss. Are you going to just stand there, or do I need to drag you into detention?”
Colin entered the room, noting the other attendees. Two students, Micah and Nathaniel Cross, otherwise known as the goth twins. They were pale with black tattoos, long black coats, tight black clothing, and permanent frowns plastered across their faces. Gareth sat with his feet up, smirking at Colin.
“Listen up,” began Principal Hebert. “You’re here because you did something or you didn’t do something. All I care about is what you do from here on out. Gareth and Colin, you’re on garbage cleanup. Nathaniel and Micah, you’ll be sweeping the gym floor. One hour, people, and then I expect you back for dismissal.”
Colin’s heart sank in his chest, down his legs, and through the floor. He was a dead man.
Gareth clapped his hands with false cheer. “All right, Colin, buddy. Let’s get to it!”
They grabbed a couple of garbage bags and headed outside. Without saying a word, Gareth just started picking up garbage. Colin, braced for an attack and watched him for a moment before hesitantly bending to the task too. ’It was getting dark, and the rain made the job all the more miserable.
After half an hour, Gareth had vanished around the other side of the building, and Colin began to think that maybe he had been worrying needlessly.
As he rounded a corner toward the back of the school, he saw his mistake. Sam Bale and Kevin Hadfield were sitting on one of the permanent picnic benches. They both looked menacing, as usual. Backtracking quickly, Colin turned and bumped into Gareth who shoved him.
“Where you going, buddy?” He spat that last word.
Colin dropped his garbage bag and backed right into Sam and Kevin, who were standing behind him.
“We don’t have to do this,” pleaded Colin.
“You don’t belong here, Colin,” said Gareth.
“I know. You’ve told me before.”
Gareth stabbed a finger to his chest. “And that smart mouth of yours really doesn’t belong here.”
“It’s attached to the rest of my body; I really don’t have a choice in the matter.”
Gareth faked a punch, and Colin flinched.
“Please, just tell me what to do,” begged Colin, fighting to keep the tears at bay. He’d been here before; he knew what was coming.
Kevin and Sam grabbed one of Colin’s arms while Gareth stood inches from his face. His breath stank. “I want you to go away. That’s all. You don’t belong here. Sooner or later you’ll get the message.”
Gareth punched him hard twice in the stomach and then once in the kidneys. Colin dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. Sam and Kevin began kicking him and then stripped him down to his underwear until finally, they left. Colin lay sobbing on the cold ground, half-naked and in pain.
This had been Colin’s life for over a year. Feeling like he’d failed at life in general, Colin had been reduced to living in a state of constant fear and humiliation. He had suffered bullying and his grandmother’s hatred.
Colin knew he was a loser, but he hated that everyone else knew it too.
The only positive he could think of was Becca and the strange, brief conversation they had shared. He picked himself up, feeling his bruised ribs, wincing as he walked barefoot across the parking lot away from the school. Hebert would be angry that he didn’t return for the end of detention, but he didn’t care. He didn’t intend to come back. He had to do something or he was going to end up dying here in Elkwood.
Colin decided he had to go to Seattle to see his parents.
Tonight.
I don’t want to get too scientific here, but there are a few things you should know before you sink your teeth into this book. I’ve tried to keep it simple enough that anyone twelve and up could read and understand it. Werewolves were everywhere in Europe in the late sixteenth century. Go to a party, there would be a werewolf. Go to work, you’re probably working next to a werewolf. Bump into a stranger on the street—werewolf!
They were slowly killed off in Europe as the true nature of a werewolf is a terribly hard thing to control. Eventually you get that urge to eat someone. And let’s face it; eating people is just rude.
Now here’s the scary bit, the bit that concerns you. While werewolves ceased to be a part of the world, they didn’t necessarily leave it. On the contrary, humans evolved to repress the werewolf gene out of the fear they would be decapitated, shot with a silver bullet, burned alive, or a terrifying combination of all three. What this means is that every single human being is still carrying the werewolf gene. You, right now, sitting right where you are, has the werewolf gene swimming around somewhere inside of you.
Genes are strings of DNA. DNA makes you who you are. You have that werewolf gene inside you. It’s just not active. Not yet.
To fully activate that werewolf gene, you’d have to be bitten by another werewolf, someone who turns into a giant wolf-like creature when there’s a full moon. So fear not! As long as no one has bitten you recently, you’re likely okay.
So why this warning? You’re probably thinking there’s no chance I’ll turn into a werewolf because I haven’t been bitten. That is absolutely true. However, while it’s impossible to turn into a werewolf unless you’re bitten, it is very possible to awaken that sleeping werewolf gene by learning too much about them. This book will teach you a lot about those hairy creatures of the night, so I want you to be extra careful while reading it.
If you notice any of the following things, stop reading immediately:
- You find yourself looking at other humans and thinking lunch.
- You start to notice smells you never smelled before.
- You growl at people instead of talking to them.
- Your nails begin to grow at an alarming rate.
- You scratch your head in public using your leg.
- You greet your friends at the bus stop by sniffing their butts.
- You begin to grow hair in all the wrong places.
You’ve been warned.
Chapter One Loser
Colin looked directly into the reflection staring back at him from the bathroom mirror and with absolute conviction said, “You are a loser.”
His reflection agreed.
Much as he had done almost every day for the last year, Colin evaluated his body. He was tall for a thirteen year old, with lanky limbs and broad pointy shoulders that bordered on skeletal. His face looked to be at odds with the rest of his body with its gaunt features and perpetually dark circles beneath the eyes. Pale skin stood in stark opposition to his unruly dark and stringy hair. Trying to sharpen his vision, he squinted before fumbling with his glasses.
His reflection didn’t look any better with them on.
After drying off, Colin got dressed and headed downstairs.
“Why are you dressed like that?” snapped his grandmother from her usual place in front of the TV. She hadn’t even looked at him yet, not that it mattered. Colin didn’t know what was more disturbing: that despite his grandmother being completely blind, she still watched TV religiously and commented on his clothes every day, or that he still felt the need to defend his choice of clothing to her. He was wearing jeans and an oversized hoody.
“It’s school today, Grandmother. I’m dressed for school,” he murmured.
“I know that!” she spat.
Nothing wrong with her hearing, though.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
His grandmother sipped tea from a china cup. “I can take care of myself, you little ingrate. Get to school. You’re going to be late. If you don’t get an education, I’ll never get your lazy butt out of here.”
There was no point in arguing.
“And comb your hair before leaving the house. I don’t want people thinking I’m raising a hobo!” she said.
As Colin walked past the living room, his grandmother turned around in her chair and stared in his general direction with gray eyes damaged irreparably by cataracts. Blind eyes followed him as he walked to the door as quickly as he was able. It wasn’t until he was outside with the door firmly closed behind him that he allowed himself to breathe again.
Colin’s grandmother had always terrified him. He couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t blind or cruel. Colin’s parents lived in Seattle and over the past thirteen years had managed to have as little to do with their only son as humanly possible. They were young when his mother had discovered she was pregnant, and the following nine months had put a severe dent in their career plans. They were both up-and-coming lawyers at large firms, and as soon as they could be rid of Colin, they’d passed him off from one distant relative to another. Beyond that, they had no parental aspirations whatsoever.
Just over a year ago, after a short stint living with an uncle and aunt in Ohio, Colin had been sent to the small town of Elkwood to live with his only living close relative—his grandmother, Beatrice Strauss.
She hadn’t welcomed him, there were no hugs, no loving relationship, just a bitter old woman who spent most of her days parked in front of the TV and commenting on what a disappointment Colin was. He’d tried to help her, but she never wanted it. Despite being blind, she was more than able to get around and take care of herself. The only time she left the house was to attend the monthly town hall meetings to which he was never invited.
Colin was twenty feet from the bus stop when the school bus flew by. The mocking grins of students plastered the bus’s back window as it disappeared over the hill. Thankfully, the school was centrally located, which meant he’d be only slightly late.
On his way to school, Colin passed Mrs. Flipple, a kind old lady who walked her tiny, yappy dog, Jinx, each morning, rain or shine. As per usual, Jinx went straight for Colin, yapping in that high-pitched bark that only small, irritating dogs can make. Colin nodded politely to the old lady and held on to a secret hatred for that little dog.
The town was always overcast, and it rained almost every day of the year, which suited Colin’s depressed personality. He was thankful he didn’t live in a warmer climate as he’d have a much harder time being pale and awkward.
He’d survived the seventh grade at Elkwood School with above-average grades and a below-average number of friends. He was still considered a stranger here. His lack of personality, athleticism, and sense of humor didn’t help in the slightest. He wasn’t handsome enough to be popular or ugly enough to be ignored. He was just weird enough that students could be heard wondering aloud about him as he walked by. Now in the second week of his eighth grade year, Colin had one sort of friend, one unrealistic crush, and was the constant focus of several bullies who were determined to make his life miserable.
Loser.
He reached Elkwood School just as the second bell rang to indicate the start of classes. On average, each grade at the school contained only twenty to thirty students, and because of a limited number of teachers, some classes taught more than one grade or subject.
As Colin ran up the steps to the main entrance, a dark, looming shape confronted him. He looked up into the face of Principal Hebert.
“You’re late again, Mr. Strauss.” His voice sounded like rumbling thunder.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hebert. I missed the bus.”
“While I admire your use of a classical excuse, I’d prefer if you’d made an attempt at originality. Had you been more creative, I would not feel the need to place you in detention.”
“I’m really sor—”
“But as you’re still trying to apologize rather than give me something interesting to work with, I’ll be seeing you after school.”
Colin studied his feet carefully. “Yes, sir.”
“Run along.” Mr. Hebert gestured, pushing his hand ahead of him in a forward motion.
Colin made his way into the building and chanced a glance back to see Principal Hebert slowly shaking his head. Hebert was a former marine and rumored war hero who had retired to Elkwood almost ten years ago and although he had absolutely no qualifications had been appointed as the school principal. He was a massive hulk of a man with the sort of physique that suggested he could bend large metal things with his bare hands. Principal Hebert was a firm believer in detention and hard work and often liked to combine the two. Most detentions involved cleaning something. Colin made a mental note that his day was not off to a rip-roaring start.
Can’t get any worse.
Colin’s day quickly got worse.
He moved down an empty corridor, his sneakers squeaking loudly on the clean laminate flooring before entering the last classroom on the right.
The entire class turned to look at him. Some groaned, others laughed, a few smirked. Mrs. Davenport was the substitute teacher again today for Biology, and she greeted him with a warm smile.
“Good morning, Colin. Please take a seat. We were just getting started.”
Colin shuffled over to his seat next to Jeremy Rodson, the only person in Elkwood Colin could refer to as a friend. Everyone liked Jeremy even though he had never really joined one particular group. He played on the basketball team, so the jocks liked him. He was smart and maintained decent grades, so he was accepted by the smart kids. He was a good actor, so the creative types liked him. Colin had met him on his first day, and Jeremy had introduced him to the school. With so many commitments, Jeremy wasn’t always around, so Colin was still forced to maintain his unhappy, loner lifestyle.
“No Mr. Winter again?” Colin asked quietly.
“Apparently he’s sick,” said Jeremy and grinned. “Why are you so late?”
“Missed the bus.”
“Detention again?”
“Yup.”
“Pay attention, boys,” said Mrs. Davenport with a smile. She was flipping through a PowerPoint presentation about pheromones.
As the only substitute teacher in the small Elkwood School, Mrs. Davenport was never short of work. She was also the kindest teacher that Colin had ever encountered. Her presence had a calming effect on the students that Mr. Winter could never manage.
Mr. Winter was a jerk. It wasn’t just Colin’s opinion but more of a collective agreement throughout the entire school, including the teachers. An uptight individual in his late thirties, he had a particular hatred for students, teaching, other teachers, and did I mention, students? A few years ago, Mr. Winter’s entire family—wife, parents, grandparents—had been killed in a car accident, and rumor had it that the insurance settlement had been sizeable. The rumor quickly proved true when Mr. Winter started travelling the better part of the school year.
“Pheromones indicate the availability of a female for breeding.” Mrs. Davenport was met with a round of sniggers. “Well, it’s true,” she said calmly. “All animals excrete pheromones, and they can indicate a variety of things. Anything from sex to marking territory, and it can even act as a defense mechanism.”
“Colin, you should get yourself some pheromones,” said Gareth Dugan from behind a textbook. His cronies laughed in honor of their leader’s display of wit.
Gareth was a bully with scraggly hair and a troubled complexion. Having been raised on a farm on the outskirts of Elkwood, Gareth had always struck Colin as being quite large for his age. Gareth didn’t like Colin, but then, the feeling was mutual.
“Why would I need pheromones?” shot back Colin. “Your smell already overpowers everything in the room.”
That probably wasn’t smart.’
The entire room agreed with him by sitting in absolute silence.
“That’s enough,” said Mrs. Davenport and cheerfully continued to describe other chemical factors that trigger social responses.
Colin dared a glance back to see Gareth glaring at him like a lion eyeing an injured antelope.
Gareth would inevitably seek revenge. Colin didn’t need a chemical factor to trigger a social response. All he had to do was open his mouth.
He tried his best to concentrate on his textbook, opened at random, but his thoughts remained fixed on how to save himself a beating Jeremy, who remained happily oblivious and completely free of any such dealings, leaned over enthusiastically.
“Did you take a look at Tori yet? Classic Tori outfit.” He grinned and subtly tilted his head backward. Having developed earlier than any other girl in school, Tori was the blond bombshell of Elkwood. Okay, she was more like a small nuclear explosion. To aid the raging hormones of teenage boys, she made a habit of wearing low-cut shirts complimented by extremely short skirts.
Mrs. Davenport turned to the whiteboard, and Colin glanced back three rows on the right to see Tori conveniently perched on the edge of her stool wearing a short powder-blue skirt and knee-high boots.
Colin’s eyes followed the curves of her body upward until he realized she was looking directly at him with a wry smile. He blushed instantly, but the awkward moment was suddenly interrupted as a textbook smashed into the side of his head, sending his glasses skittering across the desk and onto the floor.
The class laughed as Colin slipped from his stool and crawled around in front of the desk, searching for his glasses.
Mrs. Davenport whirled around, spied Colin on the floor, and asked, “What was that? Colin, what are you doing?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Davenport. Just looking for my glasses.”
The bell rang before any further interrogation could be made, and the class headed for the exit. Colin still couldn’t find his glasses.
Ironic. If I was wearing my glasses, I’d have no trouble finding them.
The side of his head was throbbing from where the textbook had struck him. No doubt Gareth or one of his minions to thank for that.
Colin stood and came face-to-face with Becca Emerson, his heartbeat doubling in speed.
“I found your glasses,” she said, handing them over.
“Uh, thanks, B-Becca.”
The rest of the class had cleared out. He put on his glasses, and she came into focus. Around his height with fiery red hair and pale skin, Becca displayed a standoffishness that made most people avoid her. She wasn’t developed like Tori, but neither were most cover models. Becca was a little like Jeremy in that she didn’t associate with any one group, but where he belonged to everyone, she tended to avoid all people. Her dad was some sort of government worker, which translated to “spy” to most middle schoolers.
Becca always wore dark makeup and dark clothes making her look paler than she actually was. She maintained high grades, avoided large groups, and Colin had loved her since he first saw her. It was, of course, a secret love because there was no way he could ever work up the nerve to do anything about it.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Oh, that voice.
“Uh, yeah. Just another head wound. Probably won’t be the last.” He attempted a half-hearted grin.
They awkwardly stared at each other as Colin’s mind raced for something smart to say.
What do I say? You’re gorgeous? Want to share a slushee? Marry me?
“Okay, well have a good day,” said Becca, and left.
Smooth, Strauss. Very smooth.
Not the most suave guy at the best of times, Colin managed to be even less so around Becca. How would he ever be able to ask her out, let alone have an entire conversation with her if he didn’t even manage to open his mouth?
***
Having made it to last period unscathed, Colin was busy staring at Becca as the minutes on the clock clicked by while he planned his escape. He would have to move fast, get out of the school, and off the grounds. He’d skip the bus altogether—
“Wonder what Hebert’s going to have you do for detention today? My money is on cleaning the gym floor,” said Jeremy.
Detention!
“I’m so screwed.”
“It’s not that bad, just cleaning.”
“Not that,” groaned Colin. “Gareth got detention in third period.”
“Well at least you’ll have company,” said Jeremy unhelpfully.
The bell rang, and Colin’s heart skipped a beat.
“Just once Jer, just once I’d love to be as oblivious as you are.”
“You got detention today, Colin?” asked Becca.
Colin almost dropped his books. He hadn’t noticed her approach. “Uh, yeah. I was late today.”
“I know. I was there.”
“Right.”
“I was wondering if I could talk to you. Alone. I can walk you to your detention.”
“I’ve got to run anyway. Catch ya later.” And with that, Jeremy bounced off.
“Y-yeah, of course,” said Colin. This was new territory. Other than the occasional passing pleasantry, Colin had never had a full conversation with Becca. They walked down the south corridor toward the detention room at the back of the school.
“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” said Becca without looking at him. “It must be strange to move here. Most people are born here these days.”
“Uh, yeah, I’ve heard that. No one ever moves to Elkwood.”
“The people here aren’t open-minded. They only know what they know. And who they know. This probably isn’t making any sense.”
“No. I mean, yeah. Well. No, no it’s not.”
Becca turned to him. Her eyes were a deep hazel color, he’d never noticed before. She put a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly his insides were on fire. It was only a moment, but Colin felt as if she was looking through him.
Colin was way beyond his comfort zone and didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to say something? Did she want him to kiss her? Or was he misunderstanding her? When it came to reading girls, he was dyslexic. On the flipside, Becca Emerson was actually touching him! With her actual hand! But then she took her hand away and for a moment looked sad.
“I’m sorry, Colin. I thought maybe … but no.” She sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see things clearly here.”
Colin had no idea what she was talking about; he was still reeling from her touch and for once actually managed to say something. “Maybe you could help me?”
Did I just say that?
What was he thinking?
“I have to go. My dad will wonder where I am. Good luck in detention.”
And just like that, she was gone.
The ominous voice of Principal Hebert floated down the hallway. “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Strauss. Are you going to just stand there, or do I need to drag you into detention?”
Colin entered the room, noting the other attendees. Two students, Micah and Nathaniel Cross, otherwise known as the goth twins. They were pale with black tattoos, long black coats, tight black clothing, and permanent frowns plastered across their faces. Gareth sat with his feet up, smirking at Colin.
“Listen up,” began Principal Hebert. “You’re here because you did something or you didn’t do something. All I care about is what you do from here on out. Gareth and Colin, you’re on garbage cleanup. Nathaniel and Micah, you’ll be sweeping the gym floor. One hour, people, and then I expect you back for dismissal.”
Colin’s heart sank in his chest, down his legs, and through the floor. He was a dead man.
Gareth clapped his hands with false cheer. “All right, Colin, buddy. Let’s get to it!”
They grabbed a couple of garbage bags and headed outside. Without saying a word, Gareth just started picking up garbage. Colin, braced for an attack and watched him for a moment before hesitantly bending to the task too. ’It was getting dark, and the rain made the job all the more miserable.
After half an hour, Gareth had vanished around the other side of the building, and Colin began to think that maybe he had been worrying needlessly.
As he rounded a corner toward the back of the school, he saw his mistake. Sam Bale and Kevin Hadfield were sitting on one of the permanent picnic benches. They both looked menacing, as usual. Backtracking quickly, Colin turned and bumped into Gareth who shoved him.
“Where you going, buddy?” He spat that last word.
Colin dropped his garbage bag and backed right into Sam and Kevin, who were standing behind him.
“We don’t have to do this,” pleaded Colin.
“You don’t belong here, Colin,” said Gareth.
“I know. You’ve told me before.”
Gareth stabbed a finger to his chest. “And that smart mouth of yours really doesn’t belong here.”
“It’s attached to the rest of my body; I really don’t have a choice in the matter.”
Gareth faked a punch, and Colin flinched.
“Please, just tell me what to do,” begged Colin, fighting to keep the tears at bay. He’d been here before; he knew what was coming.
Kevin and Sam grabbed one of Colin’s arms while Gareth stood inches from his face. His breath stank. “I want you to go away. That’s all. You don’t belong here. Sooner or later you’ll get the message.”
Gareth punched him hard twice in the stomach and then once in the kidneys. Colin dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. Sam and Kevin began kicking him and then stripped him down to his underwear until finally, they left. Colin lay sobbing on the cold ground, half-naked and in pain.
This had been Colin’s life for over a year. Feeling like he’d failed at life in general, Colin had been reduced to living in a state of constant fear and humiliation. He had suffered bullying and his grandmother’s hatred.
Colin knew he was a loser, but he hated that everyone else knew it too.
The only positive he could think of was Becca and the strange, brief conversation they had shared. He picked himself up, feeling his bruised ribs, wincing as he walked barefoot across the parking lot away from the school. Hebert would be angry that he didn’t return for the end of detention, but he didn’t care. He didn’t intend to come back. He had to do something or he was going to end up dying here in Elkwood.
Colin decided he had to go to Seattle to see his parents.
Tonight.
Andrew Buckley attended the Vancouver
Film School’s Writing for Film and Television program. After pitching and
developing several screenplay projects for film and television, he worked in
marketing and public relations, before becoming a professional copy and content
writer. During this time Andrew began writing his first adult novel, DEATH, THE
DEVIL AND THE GOLDFISH, followed closely by his second novel, STILTSKIN. He
works as an editor for Curiosity Quills Press.
Andrew also co-hosts a geek movie
podcast, is working on his next novel, and has a stunning amount of other
ideas. He now lives happily in the Okanagan Valley, BC with three kids, one
cat, one needy dog, one beautiful wife, and a multitude of characters that live
comfortably inside of his mind.
Andrew is represented by Mark Gottlieb
at the Trident Media Group.
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"Tranh and Nowak" - A Short, Independent, French, Martial Arts, Comedy Film
Description:
"Tranh and Nowak" is an independent short-film by Godefroy Ryckewaert which he put together with the help of various friends. Quentin d'Hainault, the writer and the main male actor, and Godefroy come from the same martial art background : kungfu wushu.
Godefroy says "I just didn't know he was an actor and he didn't know I was a director".
When they realised, they put their passions together, mixing the cinema they both loved and martial arts, while still keeping a french touch to it.
They did a crowd-funding page on a European website called ULULE and earned 2,145 euros (the goal was 2000). They supplemented that by financing the rest themselves. It was shot over 7 days but took more than a year for post-production since all the work was done during their spare time.
They were very lucky and happy to get some of the best stunt players in France. They had worked on productions like Lucy, Taken, Fast and Furious, Bourne, etc.
Now they're just trying to get it seen on the web and want to present it to festivals as well.
We can't urge you enough to take a look below.
Biography:
GODEFROY RYCKEWAERT - DIRECTOR
Godefroy was born on August 24, 1986 in Lille, France. With a passion rooted in martial arts since the age of 16, he began training in various styles of Chinese kung fu, and eventually journeyed to China in 2004 to train for five years before ultimately becoming a national Wushu champion.
Ryckewaert began to experiment with directing amateur short films of his own and decided to become a full-fledged filmmaker. With this goal in mind, he hopes to further expand his body of work while aiming to become more actively involved in the film festival circuit. He plans to base his operations in the United States Of America.
He now spends most of his time behind the camera where his experience in martial arts and stunts are assets. Ryckewaert is also fluent in French, English and Mandarin Chinese.
Check out his website but it's still only in French.
and look at his demo reel
Kingsman: The Secret Service Preview Review
Kingsman: The Secret Service is a movie very loosely based on the comic book The Secret Service by Mark Millar and Dave Gibbons. The movie is written by Jane Goodman and Matthew Vaughn, who also directs. This is the same team behind the similar Millar comic adaptation, Kick Ass.
The film, unlike its unfortunate title, is anything but clunky. It is a slick, fun, R Rated, filthy humour and ultra violence filled romp that plays like an intentional love letter to Roger Moore era James Bond.
Kingsman in both its humour and action, plays a lot like Kick Ass did before it and like Kick Ass the movie contains plenty of awesome jaw dropping and taboo busting moments. Vaughn also repeats the trick of editing the fight scenes to a retro soundtrack that, while not exactly giving Guardians of the Galaxy a run for its money, is still damn cool.
The actors all appear to be having a great time and mostly play the whole thing straight, even when the situations are anything but. It's sad then that some of the dialogue is occasionally knowingly winking at the audience and slips into heavy handed referential moments. It never spoils the scenes outright but everyone should already be getting the joke without turning this into Austin Powers with gore. Colin Firth, Vaughn staple Mark Strong and newcomer Taron Egerton are all particularly superb. Firth, not always the first name you think of as cool or a fantastic ass kicker steps up in this and steals the show.
It also has more than a few echoes of James Bond which has always been a big hit in The States.
Plus it has every American's favourite older Brit Colin Firth in it being undeniably awesome and giving Liam Neeson a run for his money in the action stakes.
If there is one very British aspect to the movie it's that it has absolutely no regard for authority and is joyously, ridiculously subversive on all fronts. It certainly will make you either proud to be British again or wish you were British, which certainly makes a change from the Brits always playing villains.
I would strongly urge anyone now intending to see it on its US release date of February 13th 2015 to avoid the trailers as much as possible and go in fresh. Your experience will be enhanced greatly.
Remember the days when trailers didn't spoil the whole first 2 acts of a film?
4 out of 5 bullet proof umbrellas
Bad Words
Jason Bateman makes his directorial debut with this R Rated indie comedy that sees him attempting to drop his Mr.Put-Upon-Nice-Guy persona while starring in a film that doesn't exactly work without it.
Bateman plays Guy Trilby a foul mouthed, negative, man-child with a savant way with words who has, through a loop-hole and with the support of reporter Kathryn Hahn, entered the Golden Quill spelling bee much to the chagrin of it's organisers Allison Janney and Philip Baker Hall and the parents of the children, the other participants.
The film is a short, well acted and competently directed, verbal, indie comedy. The humour is, at times, very rude, crude but pleasingly inventive and Bateman, especially, seems to be relishing the role. Good thing too as he holds the whole thing together.
Which is more than can be said for the script. The tagline to the film is 'the end justifies the mean' and the fact of the matter is, it really doesn't. Whether you find spelling competitions important or not, nothing really justifies the cruelty Guy Trilby unleashes on, not only, the people directly involved in the competition but just general people in the world, funny though a lot of it is. His personal vendetta effects way more people than the actual, solitary focus of it and I guess it's just down to Bateman's like-ability as an actor, the genuinely funny dialogue and the fact that we are stuck following him for the whole movie that keeps us, the audience, dubiously 'on his side'.
There is a sub-plot about his befriending a child, a fellow contestant, and 'tearing up' the town with him in the evenings which, I suppose, is intended to endear him to us a little and play to the rebel in all of us but some of the things they do, including causing a stolen lobster to lacerate a man's genitals, seem a tad cruel for no reason, as well.
Now before you think I am taking this all too seriously, let me explain. The film IS funny. Taken on face value, if you find vicious, dark, crude humour for the sake of it funny, then you are going to love it and there was much about it I did enjoy. Films, however, whether people like it or not, have to have characters, plots and motivations that make relative sense within their presented frame work and while "it's just a comedy" may excuse a lot of illogical or unforgivably cruel behaviour, the fact that the film, ultimately, asks us to give a hoot about this selfish, arrogant arse hole of a man means that we have to, at least, buy into the story and care a little, when it doesn't give us a lot of satisfactory reasons to.
Had he participated in the contest without cheating and eliminating some of his opponents in humiliating ways or had he befriended the kid, torn round the town but not hurt a man's penis with a large clawed sea creature then his character might have been a little more redeemable, while being no less funny.
There are echoes of Wes Anderson in the characters and the plot, especially Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums without, of course, it being anywhere nearly as charmingly presented or stylish.
A worthy debut, though, for Bateman as a director and interesting to see the R Rated comedy given the mumble core indie treatment.
7 out of 10
The Wolf of Wall Street
Truth of the matter is, I have no idea how to review this movie so I came up with this:
The Wolf Of Wall Street - Imagine Alec Baldwin's cameo in Glengarry Glen Ross repeatedly having weird and graphic sex with the drug scenes from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas but with none of the danger and none of the meaning, extended over 3 hours and you're about half way there.
The film is about an utterly repellent, narcissistic, smug, unrepentant, soulless and swaggering young stock broker turned snake oil huckster, the sadly, very real, Jordan Belfort played by a superb Leonardo DiCaprio, who, after one martini lunch with a hilarious, cameoing, Matthew McConaughey, starts down the road of swindling people out of their money, taking massive amounts of drugs, sleeping with everything in a skirt, buying all the big ticket items you can imagine, throwing midgets at dartboards and a whole host of other taboo-breaking, debauched things guaranteed to shock some, amuse some and bore some. I was mostly amused, sometimes bored and the only shocking thing was that it was Scorsese doing it. We knew he could do violence but all of a sudden there is an early DePalma or later Kubrick level of tits and ass flying about.
Belfort starts by swindling regular folk out of thousands at a penny stock trader on Long Island and then hits on the big idea to trade penny stock to the 1% richest people because, it's all fake anyway, it's just about moving your clients money around and, most importantly, the commission is so much higher. I suppose we're meant to like him for this, the fact he's only picking on the wealthy I mean. Is this why Scorsese and DiCaprio made this? I have no idea. My natural instinct is to assume they are not in favour of this behaviour but I don't know. It is never dwelled upon WHO the clients are or what happens to them, the 1% thing is mentioned in passing briefly and never really brought up again. The ins and outs, intricacies, repercussions and downside to any of this is never shown. We never even see a failed sales call, a plumber loosing their home through bad investing or even a CEO of a fortune 500 asking "wait what about that stock I bought?". We barely even spend any time with any of the characters who may or may not disapprove with this lifestyle and to cap it off there's even a hint at the end that the FBI guy who's after these crooks, Kyle Chandler as Agent Patrick Denham, also a bit of a full-of-himself-dick, feels like it was all for nothing and humanity's not worth saving anyhow. The one character who is definitely decent, Belfort's first wife, gets dumped early and even made out to be a whining cow for not 'getting-it' like his new girlfriend does, the, admittedly, stunning Margot Robbie.
No other perspective! In a 3hr movie! It's just 3hrs of this Belfort guy doing stuff and more or less getting away with it. Seriously, that's it. Lots of drugs, excessive nudity and sex of all kinds and an extravagant lifestyle. All played for laughs, funny laughs admittedly and the script is great but there's no substance to it, whatsoever. Which wouldn't be so bad if this guy was fictitious or some of my ticket money wasn't going to this slimy, lying jackass but it is and I feel like my trusted film friends, Marty and Leo, made me culpable in the continued, wealthy existence of this prick.
Not only that but the film routinely tells you over and over again that I, or we, the audience secretly want to be like him and that we SHOULD be like him, maybe not in the debauchery exactly, but in the getting and being rich part.
I, personally, want to be successful at something and if money comes, great, if it doesn't, as long as I can eat, have a roof over my head and treat myself occasionally to some blu-rays, I'm pretty happy. Success is what I strive for and am ambitious for, not just the mindless accumulation of wealth but then, I am funny that way.
Some, in fact, many reviews have suggested that this film is really a biting attack on people like Belfort but that kind of misses the fact that
A) at no point in the film is Belfort really attacked. There's no real tragedy that befalls him that he can't happily and smugly buy his way out of, well no tragedy that is looked at with any depth for more than 2 seconds or that he shows any signs of being really bothered by, that is
and
B) Belfort wrote the book this is based on and happily appears in it, introducing and praising the Hollywood version of himself, on stage at a public speaking gig, no less.
Now I am not a prude or a killjoy, I am not against sex, drugs or midget tossing, neither am I an economist, I don't pretend to understand Wall Street and I don't think Wall Street pretends to understand itself. I assume it's mostly loud mouth folks 'winging it' with each other and patting themselves on the back A LOT, regardless of whom their actions hurt, but I don't know for sure. I choose, however, in my life, not to spend time with people like that because I find ego, swagger, braggadocio, smugness and a sickening lust for wealth without skill or substance, completely and utterly sickening. Spending 3hrs with these guys then was just aggravating.
I have just watched some video of Scorsese, DiCaprio, Terence Winter and Jonah Hill and firstly they seem to think the film is critical of Belfort's actions back then and Wall Street now and they also seem to think that Belfort was punished for his crime. The trouble with that is, he's not punished and even says so in the script. Secondly the film laughs with and at Belfort but never really criticises or judges him, unless you as an audience member choose to. In fact it implies, even with its last shot, that we, the audience, should be enthralled by him. DiCaprio called the book bravely embarrassing and said it was a modern day Caligula story but Caligula was assassinated, no such luck with Belfort unfortunately. Terence Winter, the screenwriter, seems to believe this all really happened when clearly Belfort made vast sections of it up, much in the way idiotic teenagers brag to each other about sexual conquests that never took place.
So here's the dilemma I'm in:
The film, technically, is very good. It's very funny, the script is excellent, it's performed brilliantly by all involved, it's directed with the usual Scorsese flair and, although, it has no business being 3hrs long, those 3hrs don't drag. However I don't like it's politics or purpose (intentional or unintentional), I don't like the story or the person that's the focus of the story and I don't like the assumptions about me or the audience that the film makes and never sufficiently rebukes.
Can you like a movie based on skill of production alone?
It is truly an eye-opening and fantastic central performance by Dicaprio, I mean seriously unhinged and a joy to watch with some impressive and bravado speeches. His greatest scene though is when, partially incapacitated by quaaludes, he has to make it out of the country club and into his car. It's the most phenomenal physical comedy I have seen this year. Also Jonah Hill is surprising, wonderful and genuinely funny in his role. All the actors are great, every single one, with not a weak link anywhere. They are helped, of course, by a first rate script, when it comes to dialogue. When it comes to a point to be made or a reason this story is being told in the first place, then it's terrible but in terms of jokes, discussions and weird characters, the script is spot on. As for Scorsese, I have heard this, in more than one review, called his best or second best film ever. Admittedly one of the people who wrote that, a lady from The Los Angeles Times no less, believed The Departed was his best film, so take it all with a pinch of salt but this is far from his best work. This wasn't even as good as Shutter Island. It looks beautiful and everything but this needed a little more Casino and a little less Eyes Wide Shut.
I am going to wrestle with this film a long time. There's a lot of fun to be had and it's definitely entertaining but it's like a masterful Scorsese montage that never begins or ends or tells you anything at all.
I also think that if it was a fiction it would be fine but it's, apparently, mostly true.
Someone on another blog put it perfectly when they said
"would Anchorman still be as funny if Ron Burgundy was a real person and the movie based on a book he wrote himself?" - Vince Mancini, Filmdrunk
Just to clarify, though, I don't not like Jordan Belfort or his colleagues because of some misguided, moral correctness screaming "oh the depravity", some working class jealousy or hate of the rich and I also didn't understand the scam well enough to hate what they were doing to people on a social level and was, actually, told in the film not to worry about it and just understand that they made lots of money! I just hate him because he's a smug, unrepentant prick who wrote a self-aggrandising book about how crazy and great he is and how he beat the system because he had gobs of money. Honesty and humility go a long way and Jordan's ego did capsize the movie for me.
It was like when Piers Morgan took a hard line on gun control, I agreed with him completely but it's Piers Morgan, even when he's right you want to take a paddle to the fucker.
6 out of 10
Inside Llewyn Davis
I have to say this one was a bit of a mystery to me. It's left me feeling like it was a sub-par Barton Fink with Oh Brother Where Art Thou? music and occasional Odyssey nods.
The funny thing is that it's far from a bad film.
The script is great and peppered with a drier than sand sense of humour, performed exceptionally well by Oscar Isaac, John Goodman and most of the supporting cast and not so well by a bland, always miserable Carey Mulligan and a silly Justin Timberlake (both in, relatively, tiny roles), it looks beautiful, is, of course, directed perfectly and the music is sublime.
The story, such as it is, is simply a series of mishaps, both self created and "acts of god", that befall a poor folk musician in 60s New York, his ginger cat and the crazy cast of Coen-esque characters he, of course, meets along the way. There's lots to love in the film and as a portrait of a time, a place and a music it's fine but as anything deeper or better I am simply not sure. I know people will probably read all sorts of stuff into it and get their own interpretation and I know I need to watch it at least two more times to probably fully absorb it but I can't say on this initial viewing that it left me feeling like it was anything special and that's despite the dilemma and depression experienced by the central character resonating really strongly with me right now.
Definitely worth the watch but you know the Coens could do better and for all the serious tone, moody cinematography and allusions to something deeper, something better, this just feels like a place holder and a greatest hits of their recent work but the Coens spinning their wheels is still more fascinating than most film-makers giving 100%
7 out of 10
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
What has been levelled at this film, in the press, is the fact that there's product placement and the fact that the character, once choosing to engage with life, undergoes crazy, dangerous and reckless feats with seemingly little or no psychological repercussion.
Some of that is true and I at least see where it's coming from, although I would argue that the product placement in the movie is the ok kind, the real kind. For example there IS a website called EHarmony on which single people date and people do eat Papa John's pizzas (presumably) and if you're setting a film in the world in which we currently live it's not unreasonable to expect characters might interact with products, restaurants or websites much like we do every day. I'd rather that than changing names to DaddyJoe's Pizza or ECompatibility or something. The bad kind of product placement is when characters casually drop names of products into conversations like 'It's an Omega actually' with it having no bearing on the plot, like an advert on the TV (James Bond Casino Royale).
The other point that Walter Mitty is surprisingly brave, all of a sudden, for a middle aged schlub, once the plot demands it of him, is slightly true but, to be honest, it is done in such a charming way, to the strains of Kristen Wiig giving a kick ass, inspirational rendition of David Bowie's Space Oddity and you are so rooting for him, at the point it happens in the film, that you go along with it. Anything more drawn out or believable would stop the incredible, exuberant and brilliant pacing of this film. Well, it didn't bother me anyway.
You, as an audience member, are meant to be inspired by Mitty's seemingly over-the-top, exciting and probably expensive, real experiences in the same way Mitty is inspired by the fantasy life he has earlier in the movie. Watch it like that and it's better.
All that being said, The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty is the best film Ben Stiller has ever made as a director. Are Tropic Thunder, Zoolander and The Cable Guy much funnier? yes, of course, Walter Mitty is not strictly just a comedy but in terms of juggling multiple themes and multiple styles, while telling an engaging and fun story and making it look incredible and beautiful? THIS is his best work to date.
Also people worried that it might be too soppy, or too simplistic, too overly sentimental or too silly... it's, thankfully, none of those things. It's a surprising, fun, entertaining, enjoyable comedy drama with wonderful fantasy elements and lots of sweetness and surprise. Kristen Wiig is also an unparalleled delight, proving herself, again to be more than just a fantastic comedienne but an actress to watch and respect.
Turn off your cynical or ironic glands, relax and get carried away watching this enchanting, midlife-crisis-as-a-fairytale movie.
8 out of 10
American Hustle
A comedic caper with a Martin Scorsese 'Casino' like sensibility and, similarly, a kick ass period soundtrack.
I can't say that I 100% embraced American Hustle the way I did Silver Linings Playbook but the acting is always watchable, the fashions and hair suitably over the top and ridiculous and the script pretty strong. I get the feeling I will enjoy it more a second time.
I felt like it meandered too much, didn't have terrific focus and I thought that Jeremy Renner, while fine, was too young for the role. The impact of his position in the plot I felt through Bale's reactions rather than anything, actually, that Renner did. I thought Jennifer Laurence was good but not completely confident or assured in the role and very often I could see her "acting". It's difficult to shake the fact that Christian Bale, as marvellous as he is in the film, is 'doing' Robert De Niro which gets really confusing and weird when De Niro, himself, shows up for a brief cameo half-way through. Amy Adams is good in all but accent which wavers everywhere. The plot involves her putting on the performance of that of an English lady but her English accent is not defined enough to be English and her American accent isn't strong enough to be clear who she is and what she's doing. This is only a problem in as far as the fact there is a plot point and a reveal that sort of hinges on you being able to tell the difference. Lastly Bradley Cooper is tremendous in the movie, none more so than, in one scene, doing a perfect, physical impression of a surprising and awesome Louis C.K. character. Cooper clearly has hidden talents and is fast becoming O. Russel's De Niro (or DiCaprio to bring it up to date) with him doing, by far, his best work with the Director. I hope they have a long fruitful partnership, I could watch their stuff once a year, no problem.
The plot is all very well and dragged out a bit but the genius of the film is in its character portrayal and in its dark, a lost Coen-esque sense of humour. It doesn't always balance this well with the drama though and it makes a bit light of a situation we're meant to feel rising danger in and the tone is a bit all over the place, to be honest. In parts Broadway Danny Rose and in other parts Casino.
The ending, too, isn't exactly A) a shock B) explained clearly and C) gripping enough to let you walk from the cinema thinking you've seen a great con man caper.
Also, the film, like almost all films these days is 20mins too long.
That being said, however, there is great performances, clever writing and fun, assured direction to enjoy. No words on whether O Russell is still being a massive cock on set though, I like to think not.
No real strong complaints, just not the unmitigated work of genius some would have you believe.
Thinking about it again it's like the Coen brothers seen through the eyes of Scorsese but not as successful as that sounds, still a damn good effort though.
7.5 out of 10
Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues
I have just got back from Anchorman 2 and wanted to get my thoughts down while they formed in my laughter filled head.
The good news is my brain is scrabbling to remember all the really great lines and bits in the movie, this means there were, thankfully, lots of them. The second thing I should point out is that I could watch the Channel 4 news-team play tiddlywinks for 2 hours and be happy. So I am definitely a soft sell member of this movies key target audience of loyal Anchorman fans.
Bare that in mind and make of it what you, inevitably, will.
So, continuing with the good, the first 30-45 minutes of the movie, the getting the boys back together and the establishing of the key story elements are absolutely fantastic. Hilarious, well played and a great 'welcome back' to the world of Burgandy. After the joyously strong opening, the film struggles a bit without a strong, 3 act structure to hang the jokes on but it is still very funny. However the laugh count has reduced from 3 every minute to 1 or 2 big laughs every 10 minutes.
Much like McKay's and Ferrell's films The Other Guys and The Campaign, Anchorman 2 has a fairly blatant satire at its core of the 24hr news cycle. It conflicted me a little because while I will never ever knock comedies that try and make a point, I am not sure it belongs or fits well with the Burgandy and news team characters. The joke of the first film was an acutely realised absurd pomposity and arrogance of four, highly damaged male characters and the reckless decade they inhabit. That is somewhat missing here as they aren't really battling anything here or confused by anything. The characters in the sequel just go through a series of rises and falls, stumbling through comedy sketch after sketch, always with an eye on the satire of the absurdity of shitty cable news, or with an eye to telling a joke and, often, beating it to death, but with very little regard for a story. So the first film comes off looking like it had an actual structure and while it, too, has many ludicrous and surreal flights of fancy, the story is always moving forward. This sequel, by comparison, is more like the 'unofficial-only-on-dvd' sequel Wake Up, Ron Burgundy, a movie compiled (rather than planned) using different takes, cut scenes and a whole removed sub plot from the first film. This is not to disparage it, just an attempt to vocalise what this film IS.
The sequel, like the first, shot two movies worth of footage and the first rough cut was 4hrs long. By a process of test screenings, private screenings and tinkering we get the finished result. Although I hate test screenings, I am sure this was the same on the first film, it's just in that case they had not one but two 3 act structured stories they could use. In Anchorman 2, it feels like, they, probably, just picked the funnier stuff; Whether it made sense or had a flow to it, or not.
Anchorman, at times, is a weird movie but just like Wake Up, Ron Burgundy: The Lost Movie, Anchorman 2 is weirder. There's a whole sequence in the middle of the film set around a lighthouse that is just bizarre and not always laugh-out-loud funny bizarre but always intriguing, surprising and weird. Ferrell and McKay, given the chance to finally make the sequel have gone a bit hog wild in parts. It feels like several of the more left-field funny or die sketches strung together. The ending, too, takes some of the reality bending concepts of the first film and explodes them up to 22 (twice as much as 11). Again, because of the way this was edited and put together, the direction seems less focussed and pleasing than McKay has achieved in something like, the relatively normal by comparison, Step Brothers, for example. Not that I cared too much. In fact I welcomed it. McKay and Ferrell as a team are experimental, weird, wonderful, intelligent, odd, satirical, surreal and just damn funny but the mainstream eat it up. Possibly because they're also delightfully silly but I like to think that the mainstream gets a bit starved for crazy shit sometimes and so embraces people like Ferrell to make sure the scale doesn't tip too far into Blandville.
In terms of the performances the film is, honestly, the Ron and Brick show. This isn't a huge concern however as Ferrell and, especially, Carrell slip back into the roles as if they'd never been away. It's a little sad, however, that Veronica, Fantana and Champ get little to do once the initial 40mins is up. As for the new additions to the cast it's really only Kristin Wiig that gets to match the madness of the men, James Marsden is sort of miscast in the role. I've never really liked him much and, while he certainly looks the part, is no match for the others around him in the comedy stakes. He tries his best and doesn't stink up the joint but there are plenty who could've played it better.
The last point to make is that Anchorman 2 does suffer from the Austin Powers/Waynes World syndrome of recycled gags, or in this case it's more like welcome referential humour nodding at particular character tropes or gags of the first film and either expanding or changing them in some way. This is not over done and it's not grating but it's definitely there. Most of the time it's welcome and even, by a weird area of human nature and humour that loves familiarity, demanded, so don't worry but it was definitely worth mentioning.
All that being said and I realise this review may have sounded negative in parts, I loved the film. It's the weirdest, most experimental and silliest mainstream Christmas comedy and sequel since Gremlins 2 and it's funny. If, like me, you have watched Anchorman and Wake Up, Ron Burgundy: The Lost Movie a lot and just want to spend more time with those guys, you won't be disappointed and there's enough to make the uninitiated chuckle too, though they will, probably, have no idea what's going on. The nice thing is that they have filled the scene with lots of in-gags and sight jokes that will lend itself to delightful 2nd, 3rd, 4th viewings and so on. There's also been talk of releasing the other 2 hrs of this film as an alternative version so, I imagine, the DVD/Blu-Ray set of this will be a never ending treasure trove of great lines and ludicrous scenarios.
Time to cherish a movie like this, even with its flaws. because studios just don't bet on weird ideas like this anymore, as can be attested to by the, quite frankly, odd array of really shitty film trailers which preceded this.
7.5 out of 10
To Jennifer
James Cullen Bressack's To Jennifer claims it is the story of a guy, Joey, who is convinced his girlfriend is cheating on him and so plans to travel to her home and catch her in the act, all the while making a video about his journey and how much she's hurt him. On the surface the film appears to simply be about Joey, played by the excellent Chuck Pappas, being hampered continually in this attempt by his two inane and annoying, party friends Steven and Martin, played by the director himself, James Bressack and, Bressack regular, Jody Barton respectively. The whole thing is shot on an iPhone 5.
Now, even in the first few minutes we can tell that maybe Joey is not all he appears and his slowly building tense energy and the occasional freak out hints at brewing psycho tendencies, that and the fact that you hope the film is leading somewhere.
Your enjoyment of To Jennifer will depend on three things,
1) if you can put up with his two, selfish, vulgar, stoner, party friends
2) if you can put up with constant hand held shaking and moving of the camera
and
3) if you care enough to find out what's going on that you can put up with the first 2 points.
What I can say is that I usually loathe found footage/handheld camera films and characters like Steven and Martin would, normally, be enough to make me switch off but with To Jennifer the writing is good enough, the performances believable and the storyline compelling that I pressed on. I'm glad I did too but more on that later.
Just to clarify something, when I say the characters are annoying that is not a slight against the actors portraying them, quite the opposite, I presume that they are meant to be annoying and James and Jody do a grand job of portraying this. In fact Jody Barton even manages to give the pot smoking, hard drinking, bizarre prostitute hiring annoyance that is Martin a sort of pathetic tragedy which really sells the character perfectly. This film does everything to help make us side with Joey, despite the fact we suspect, deep down, the man's a little unhinged. His friends are so teeth gratingly, selfishly obstructive to Joey's goal that you don't blame him for losing his temper occasionally. This was not a Blair Witch Project situation where everyone is a selfish idiot to no end and with no reason, this is not only a strong attempt to present realistic characters but also ones that serve the overall story.
Although the writing is good, one thing that was unclear was why Joey and Steven took a flight somewhere and then when they got there still had to drive a long way to Jennifer's house. For the first half of the film that confused me maybe more than it should, as I never fully understood where they were or what they were meant to be doing.
I am not going to spoil a thing but, if it encourages you to watch the film all the way through and put up with the, sometimes, almost unbearably shaky camera work and a road strip story line that seems, frustratingly, to constantly be deviating from the plot, please know that this film, quite out of nowhere, manages to pull the same trick that The Sixth Sense did. That's not to say that Joey turns out to be a ghost but I mean to say, that when you're done with the film and you run it back through your mind, you see just how clever the script was to hide its ultimate reveal. It's a great trick and means you definitely look back on the film again in a new light.
It's not so much an enjoyable experience watching the film the first time but, once it ends you realise, it's a wonderful exercise in proving that, at the end of the day, what you need is confidence in your plot, a decent script and a director who knows how to scatter the clues seamlessly throughout the film without ringing any bells the first time round. Your film can be made on an iPhone and filled with characters you might not want to spend 5 minutes with in an elevator, let alone 85mins in a car/hotel/bedroom etc. but be clever, tell a good story and allow tension to build and it's a wholly worthwhile endeavour and gets my respect. The performances were not bad either.
Prolific indie scream queen Jessica Cameron plays the titular Jennifer and, although she doesn't have an abundance of screen time, she does a good job in an emotionally charged climax.
Check it out!
13/13/13
Basically it's all something to do with leap years violating the ancient Mayan calendar and all those extra days in February, over time have created an extra month and on the date of 13/13/13 everyone who wasn't born on a February 29th goes completely nuts.
It's a wonderful, end of the world scenario that allows for lots of death, destruction, mayhem and the symbolism of the "unlucky number" 13. More importantly, I hadn't really heard of much like that before and it's always nice to hear a fresh idea.
Yes, ok, so behind the idea is the whole Mayan calendar hoopla that went around last year claiming that, in 2012, the world was going to end and, I'm sure that, The Asylum liked it for that reason, as they're always making B-Movie versions of big budget disaster films (or Mockbusters as I believe the affectionate term is for them) but this has a decent spin on that and actually attempts something novel with it. The idea that leap years added up would form this weird 13 month is just the kind of bonkers, surreal hokum I am drawn to. There was a bit of George A Romero's The Crazies mixed in there as well but it's, at least, a different Romero source to draw from than the interminable bad zombie films we've had to wade through lately.
The things that I enjoyed in this film were the slow build up to people going crazy, some good and, on some occasions, even darkly comic deaths, a nice, atmospheric, gory and weird hospital sequence and attempts to establish different types of craziness for different groups of people. There was a really strong bedrock here for a pretty decent end-of-the-world horror film and what the filmmakers were able to do with, what was, obviously, a limited budget was, also, very impressive.
What was a slight disappointment with the movie, for me, was the fact that, I didn't feel, the concept went anywhere or was explored as much as I would've liked. For example, it needed a crazy old professor, or someone, who knew about the old world and spouted Donald Pleasance-like doom filled one-liners. The film, definitely, could've done with some sort of further explanation of the situation or some place to go. Maybe a glimmer of hope to reverse the situation using a mystical rock, Mayan gold amulet or something, or, maybe the rising of old beings to establish their order again on earth.
As it was, while it was atmospheric, gory as all hell and nicely shot, the hospital sequence went on entirely too long and once our two, Feb 29th born, protagonists finally escaped there was little time for anything but a muddled and, I felt, rushed finale back at the house.
The acting was a problem in the film. I watch a lot of amateur and low budget films so it doesn't bother me a lot but the acting was pretty stale, unfortunately, and not one character really shone in the film. A lot of that might have been the script too because, while the idea was there and the deaths, gore and action were all there, the dialogue was, in places, dreadful. I thought that more creative ways could've been used to convey the craziness other than just rage and repeated uses of "fuck" said unconvincingly by actors struggling to act. Don't get me wrong, there were some creative bits of craziness, especially Quentin (Jody Barton) believing himself, suddenly, to be a Korean war general but overall the swearing and the anger felt forced in some of the performances. I liked the laughter and the random acts of violence but thought the opportunity to make that truly creepy was missed.
Without a few strong, decent lines of dialogue and the odd interesting character, the film did, very slowly, become something of a slog but there was, genuinely, some nice potential here.
Trae Ireland and Erin Coker were solid enough, but neither of them had very interesting characters. Calico Cooper is Alice Cooper's daughter but sadly didn't get to do very much but what she did was fine though. Jody Barton got the showy role and was, at least, enthusiastic with it and, probably, the strongest performer of the lot. Bill Voorhees, with the name made for horror film acting, was sort of funny in the role of sidekick to Jody Barton despite it being an underwritten, obvious, slob-friend role.
My favourite scenes in the whole thing were an early scene where Quentin decides to humorously run some people down with his car, the slowly escalating crazy in the hospital and its gore drenched walls and the news room scene with the comedy news anchors attacking each other. They were all, a genuine joy.
While it, sadly, does go nowhere, there was lots to like in this B-Movie. One positive on the acting was that I didn't feel anybody was winking at me or playing any scenes in a lazy, half-arsed manner. I felt that everyone was trying their hardest and playing the scenes straight and true. This is important because it's become all too fashionable these days, even amongst high-profile stuff like Tarantino and Rodriguez's later work, to knowingly and lazily play every scene just for puerile, pathetic and ironic laughter and, for me, that just takes me right out of the film. While the acting isn't always strong or dynamic, I am glad to say 13/13/13 doesn't do this. The key to making a fun, enjoyable, weird, silly, wonderful, cult or B-Movie is to believe in what you're doing, no matter how ridiculous and, again, this film does succeed in that regard.
While not quite there completely I appreciated this film for it's attempt at a different, creative take on an apocalypse scenario. It was an enjoyable romp, some great scenes, some good enthusiasm and a decent idea at its core.
Love, Sex & Missed Connections
With the Grand Entertainment Group, Writer and lead Kenny Stevenson, director Eric Kissack and producer Lisa Rudin present, what is described as "the story of a guy named Neal. Neal's been trying to get over a traumatic break up with his ex-girlfriend by doing what anyone would do... tricking women on the Internet. Neal's plan is going amazingly well, until he meets Jane, who just may be as devious as he is."
The central conceit being that Neal's reprobate friends, in order to cheer him up, hatch a plan to get him laid. This involves having him reply to 'Missed connection' posts on a Craigslist-like site, showing up, observing the woman in question waiting for her mystery man and when he, obviously, doesn't show up, swooping in to seal the deal. Remarkably it works until he finds Jane, the woman with the blue shoes, out there gaming the system and the two become drawn together.
It's a strong enough set up on which to hang a series of hilarious interactions between Neal and his friends, Neal and the women, Neal and his family and Neal and his Ex. The film survives on the strength of the script and the likeability of the performers.
Everyone involved in the production has a history in comedy from the Director editing Role Models and the Producer working with Bill Maher and Sasha Baron Cohen to almost everyone in the cast being in one comedy theatre group or other, mainly the Groundlings, and this is my main reason for wanting you to see this film. It's really funny. I know this sounds like a stupid and even offensive point to make but they even bother to make the women funny. Most Rom-Coms the Women are victims of supposed male charm, looks or apparent superiority, slaves to their emotions and, surprisingly, either dull or, worse, cutesy. This is even true when the film is written by a woman!
Not so with Love, Sex & Missed Connections, despite what, on the surface, may start out as a fairly misogynistic premise, the main two women in the film, played by, the wife of the lead, Dorien Davies and Sami Klein are written and performed as interesting, funny, complex and different. It's refreshing.
While there's nothing particularly new about the male roles in the film, again think Office Space or The Hangover, they are still well observed and played by charismatic, funny actors (Shane Elliot, Alex Enriquez, Abe Smith and Scott Beehner) who you enjoy spending time with.
Also, the film doesn't say a whole lot of anything new about relationships or the battle of the sexes, anymore than the next Tom Cruise movie will say anything new about being an upright, respectable, everyman, super spy with a ready quip and neat fighting abilities but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be watched and enjoyed. The central premise is one you haven't heard of before and there are some wonderful little, subtle moments in the film that really make it something different. The observation that, when depressed, the character makes the life changing move of walking everywhere, certainly in LA, feels like a novel little detail in the movie.
Funny, charming, well put together and worth a watch! It's the Office Space for the Internet dating generation
The film has won two handfuls of awards from various film festivals FIND OUT MORE HERE
and is available on DVD from Amazon
The film will be available to Pre-Order on iTunes: 11/01/2013
AND Available on the following platforms: 11/12/2013
Amazon Instant Video
Google Play
YouTube Movies
iTunes
PlayStation
and VUDU
You're Next
Now I had the unabashed, joyful pleasure to interview Barbara Crampton last year about her work with Stuart Gordon in the 80s (some of my favourite of the genre) and the restarting of her career with Lords of Salem and You're Next.
You can HEAR that EXCLUSIVE interview HERE.
Sadly she was cut out of Lords of Salem but, thankfully, she remained very much in You're Next. So, of course, I was going to see it. It could've been a torture porn remake featuring a fast zombie falling love with a drippy teen made in the grindhouse style and I still would've been there with bells on. Barbara Crampton's return to our cinemas needed to be seen and supported. No question.
Well I couldn't be happier to report that, firstly, You're Next is none of the above and, secondly, it is a resounding success.
An entertaining, independently spirited, horror, comedy, action film that, although obviously has lots of familiar genre staple moments, is, thankfully, not knowing, winking, referencing or particularly derivative of any one thing.
The acting and direction are assured, the gore effects pleasingly devoid of CGI, the humour comes from a very real human place not a silly, contrived place and the tension is satisfyingly maintained throughout.
The best praise I can give this film is that it is just solid, decent, well made entertainment, the kind we so rarely get to see and, while none of it is exactly, what you could call, a huge surprise, to the initiated, I still had a tremendously good time with the film. I laughed out loud, I jumped, I felt nervous and was, on occasion, sufficiently creeped out.
I love that. So cool when a film can achieve that.
The cast, across the board, are great in their roles with stand out mentions going to Barbara Crampton, of course, Joe Swanberg, AJ Bowen and a tour de force from Sharni Vinson as the kick ass heroine ready to fight back.
The score and soundtrack, especially in the second half, is a sheer delight and was evocative of Goblin or Carpenter in just the right way.
Apart from one scene of heightened panic the camera did not veer into amateurish shaky cam, thank goodness and, in fact, I loved the way the film was directed, shot and edited. It has definitely made me want to check out Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett's other work and keep a close eye on what they do in the future. There's not a lot of flourishes or showing off, just strong, simple, clear direction. Fantastic job.
I can't urge people enough to go and see this in the theatre.
A lot of talk is thrown around these days about how horror fans need to support new, independent horror and quit their complaining that there is nothing new and good out there.
Well, seemingly, what horror fans actually end up doing, sadly, is throwing hard earned cash at remakes and then attacking anyone who says they don't want to see them because we shouldn't "pre-judge".
Justify it how you like but you are throwing money at marketing companies who make a tenth rate, weak sauce, copy of a previous classic, with no care or understanding as to what made the original so charming and ingenious, slap the same name on it, throw it into cinemas and sit back to watch the coin come rolling in.
One of the trailers before You're Next was the Carrie remake and oh dear oh dear oh dear that looks to be one of the most insipid, uninspired, pathetic looking, unoriginal and beige remakes yet. I think Carrie and Evil Dead are vying for the top spot of most redundant and pointless remake of 2013. The kicker is that, in the Carrie trailer, they even show, in slow-mo no less, the pigs blood at the prom scene and it's 'we-want-a-lower-rating-please' black. Sludgy, boring black.
Imagine my absolute sheer, fan boy, delight then when You're Next starts and the blood is thick, gooey, vibrant RED! YES! Hallelujah! YES!
So, please, GO SEE THIS FILM. NOW. Go and enjoy. This is what entertainment looks like. This is what new, independent, horror worth supporting looks like. Go out there, watch it and spread the word. Please. If the Carrie remake makes more than You're Next and if you bypass You're Next in the theatre but go and see Carrie, I don't care your excuse, you are a very very bad person and you should be utterly ashamed.
8.5 out of 10
Girl Most Likely
However, if you chose not to see the film or dismiss it out right because of that opinion, like some almighty snob, in favour for a ridiculously awful movie in which CGI things hit each other then not only are you thoroughly misguided but also you missed out on one of the funniest and most charming movies of the season.
Every so often one of these films is squeezed out into the summer schedule. Up until that annoyingly bad sitcom The New Girl, Zooey Deschanel was practically making a career out of starring in them. This one, however sits alongside Dan In Real Life, Stranger Than Fiction (or more recently, Everything Must Go), Admission or 50/50 and don't worry if you don't really like any of those films either, because while it's similar in terms of Hollywood output, casting, tone etc. it's also very different.
The plot would not look out of place in one of Woody Allen's lazier, later comedies. A playwright turned play blurb writer, living in, fairly high society, New York thinks she has her life together, loses everything, more or less, in one day and, through a plot contrivance, ends up living with her kooky mother played, predictably, by Annette Benning in Atlantic City, surrounded by a cast of wacky characters, only to, eventually, break her writer's block and turn her experience into an award winning, critically lauded play. In fact, I think, Woody Allen may have already made that film.
So, you may be thinking, how does a quirky, self indulgent, predictable and cliche riddled plot amount to one of the funniest and most charming movies of the season? Well it's simple. It's the thing that most films, usually, get staggeringly wrong. The cast and, more importantly even than that, the script are tremendous. Kristen Wiig does the sort of performance that Judd Apatow crushed and destroyed but some of us saw lurking, between the horrendously misjudged poo gags, in Bridesmaids and, actually, even betters it. Annette Benning is, for the first time in her career I think, not annoying and instead turns in a funny and nuanced performance as Wiig's obsessive mother. Matt Dillon is priceless as a sort of beardy and dishevelled Steven Seagal type character, who, hilariously, seems to be lying about being in the CIA and a whole bedtime storybook full of long-winded, tall tales about bizarre and adventurous experiences he says he has. Finally, I found Christopher Fitzgerald as the mollusc obsessed, slightly inward and agoraphobic brother, a delight to watch.
So, to the script and while every seemingly-negative point I said earlier might be true, the script is still fantastically written. The dialogue, scenarios and observations are laugh out loud funny and the jokes are actually ABOUT something or are just joyously odd, much in the way the best Woody Allen scripts used to be, which is a breath of fresh air in this world of easy and sad dick and fart jokes. The characters are wonderfully, and yes sometimes obviously, written with the clue to the script's greatness lurking in the little details. The gag involving the boardwalk crush that Ralph has, played by the always watchable Natasha Lyonne, and the glittery make up tears she gives Wiig or the quick shot of the fridge full of sandwiches towards the end, for example, add little rye laughs to an already hilarious script.
Don't be put off by your impression of what you think it is and don't be too cool for it or too cynical for it, just go and see it and support a film that isn't a sequel, a remake, made for the GDP of a small Eastern European nation and doesn't have enough CGI in it to drown James Cameron's ego.
Even if you don't like it like I did, you'd still be showing the ever increasingly mindless and redundant studio bosses that not everything needs to be a big spectacle, sometimes people want to laugh, cry and have their cockles warmed.
7.5 out of 10 cheese and ham sandwiches
This is the End
So what to say?
Well, firstly, this is a classic case of 'did they even write a second draft of the script?' and also 'you guys are not quite as great at improvising as you all seem to think' because the overall structure, plot and pacing is generally weak and uninspired. There are also missed opportunities everywhere and just as one scene soars and you're laughing, you're also annoyed because you know it's going to derail and take another 10 minutes to do anything actually funny again.
Secondly Seth Rogan plays Seth Rogan, a point which is joked about in the first 5mins of the movie admittedly, but that doesn't change the fact that everyone else in this film is playing either weirdly exaggerated versions of themselves or completely different personas and having him just play the version of himself we've seen time and time again is a little grating and unimaginative. It means everyone else gets parodied and is the butt of a joke (or 5) but he never is, really.
Ok, so, the Seth Rogan thing brings up a question:
Can anyone tell me why taking drugs is funny? who decided that?
I don't mean this in a prudish 'don't take drugs' type way because, please, do whatever you want away from me, I don't care but WHY is it funny?
There are films in which drugs, or their side effects, are portrayed as funny but it's usually in the context where the drug taker is a fool and someone is observing their foolish behaviour but when did this thing of 'oh I smoke pot and take E that makes me cool AND funny' become an acceptable substitute for actually writing a joke or a funny scenario. I am sure if you're high it's funny but sadly I am not 15 and 'getting high' no longer holds any allure whatsoever.
It is just one example of where this film veers into self-indulgent, in-joke, vanity-project pap.
Just like the "Seth Rogan always plays himself" joke at the beginning was echoed in the film, there is also a scene where they fool around with a video camera and make a home movie version of a Pineapple Express 2 trailer. Cut to them all rolling around in the living room laughing. I imagine that is precisely what editing and then screening this movie was for the actors involved. It gives you the distinct feeling that while they may say they want you at the party, you're not really invited and this is just for them, however your repeated donations of $14 a cinema ticket is much appreciated.
My last point on this is some lame running joke about Jay Baruchel and Jonah Hill not liking each other. It routinely made me think, did I miss something? I am not in on this not-very-funny joke so why does it have any place in this movie.
In this regard James Franco and Michael Cera probably come off the best in the film and both exaggerated versions of themselves, that they play, warranted lots more screen time. Weirdly Danny McBride is also not too bad and a, what should've been very stupid, scene in which him and Franco talk about cumming on things that should've fallen flat, turned out to be a highlight.
The celebrity cameos are ok but ultimately are cheap shots and I have seen better on the late night Jimmy Kimmel show.
Where the film succeeds is in the examination and parody of different 'end of the world' movie tropes. There's the siege at home stuff, an exorcism scene and a mad-maxian/hills have eyes cannibals in a winnebago scene that work really well and allow for some funny moments.
The problem is that it falls short and adheres too much to its boring set up. It should've parodied disaster movies, alien invasion movies, zombie movies etc. had a bit of imagination. Considering it's a mishmash, unstructured, mostly one set kind of deal anyway they could've gone hog wild!
Instead apart from the couple of funny, interesting scenes I mentioned before, it sticks to this Christian version of the rapture thing that whiffs to high heaven of keeping the biggest audience possible, happy.
Comedy used to bother Christians. It used to leave no sacred idol unblemished, no taboo trashed and no stone unthrowed but apart from a few shots of the devil's CGI cock and a little, brief discussion around the table about 'ok, so now, God is real' that was it. Again, shame they missed the opportunity. There's some funny stuff there, if they had the balls.
I hate to sound like the only atheist in the room but the ultimate goal of this film being 'to get the characters to ascend to heaven' was childish, idiotic, patronising and naff. Oh and also, BIG SPOILER, if there is a heaven and the fucking Backstreet Boys are the entertainment, I'd rather be butt raped by the devil's CGI cock. Just saying.
It was worth the watch once though and it did illicit some chuckles out of me. It's ultimately lazy though and made me feel that there is a good script to be made of friends at the end of the world but this isn't really it.
5 out of 10 novelty, rudely shaped communion wafers
The Internship
The thing of it is, though, it's ok. It'll do. It could've been a billion times worse.
Vaughn has forever lost the rapid-fire-funny charm that he displayed in Dodgeball or Old School, where you'd be forgiven for mistaking him as Bill Murray's slightly more talkative and enthusiastic successor but The Internship, like it's leading two characters, is just so full of positivity and some occasionally very funny lines that you can almost see past the mundane, formulaic, Googleness of it all. It also features some actors you probably like and a couple of actually inspired and pretty hilarious scenes.
Wilson is a mystery to me though, so good and full of nuance and depth in Wes Anderson films and then just so cheery but ultimately weak and bland in everything else. In this he is, again, the chipper foil to Vaughn's often-annoying motor mouth and, of course, has a generic and pointless romance with a random woman Vaughn, also the screenwriter, forgot to write a real personality for.
There are times, sadly more frequent than I would've liked, that the Vaughn/Wilson schtick becomes just teeth-grindingly grating. You want to smack them, tell them to breathe and go again.
The Google setting is, on face value, a big old advert for all the services the primary coloured company provides, with a side helping of 'aren't we a swell place to work and aren't we making the world a better place' type crap which, ultimately, comes off a little creepy and simplistic, especially for those of us who grew up on Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka. We know every seemingly joyous place has a dark, weird core that is not to be fully trusted.
Also, as positive as it attempts to present things with it's green, red and yellow bikes, ping pong tables and free pudding for all, laid back hipster/geek chic attitude, somewhere in my soul it scares the piss out of me that this is someone's idea of the way things should work.
All that said, stick it to the back of your mind as much as you can, switch most of your brain off and enjoy the misfits over come adversity, recycled from Revenge of the Nerds, plot line sprinkled with some ok comedy.
Worth a single viewing.
5 out of 10 overly advertised salads.
BUY YOUR COPY TODAY!
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The After Movie Diner's 2nd Alternate Oscars
OK so the Oscar noms have come out again for another year and yet again it reads like a list of predictable boring, beige tedium, some over enflated Hollywood "serious" films to have come out in the last month and a half (because the academy are mostly old farts with the combined memory span of a guppy fish) and only a couple of nods in the right direction (and those mainly being for anything involving Argo or Moonrise Kingdom).
So we will again be hosting the After Movie Diner Alternate Oscar show this year on Monday February 25th!
So please E-MAIL me at aftermoviediner@gmail.com with your alternate nominations.
The rules are simple: The film HAS to have come out for the FIRST time in 2012 on any format - theatrical, straight to video, on demand - ANYTHING as long as it had its FIRST release any day of 2012.
Let's get those NOMS in!!
Hear last year's show here: http://amdpodcast.blogspot.com/2012/02/episode-30-after-movie-diner.html
So we will again be hosting the After Movie Diner Alternate Oscar show this year on Monday February 25th!
So please E-MAIL me at aftermoviediner@gmail.com with your alternate nominations.
The rules are simple: The film HAS to have come out for the FIRST time in 2012 on any format - theatrical, straight to video, on demand - ANYTHING as long as it had its FIRST release any day of 2012.
Let's get those NOMS in!!
Hear last year's show here: http://amdpodcast.blogspot.com/2012/02/episode-30-after-movie-diner.html
John Dies At The End - The NYC Premiere Jan 7th 2013
The Director himself and star Paul Giamatti were on hand afterwards to answer questions and even, graciously, shook people's hands, signed people's stuff and even pose for photographs.
It was a fantastic night.
I intend to cover the film in a little more depth over on the podcast and I have some exclusive content from the Q&A that I will be sharing very soon as well but I just wanted to get down my initial impression of the film here on the blog.
Let me begin by saying I am a big fan of Coscarelli's work, you can read my Phantasm and Bubba Ho-Tep reviews elsewhere on this site but I really dig his style and sensibility behind the camera. So couple that with the always reliable and likable Giamatti and a plot that promised some absolutely bonkers stuff and me wanting to see this film, from the moment it was first mentioned, became a no-brainer.
Having seen the film the first thing that came to my mind was 'I need to see that again'. It has a very definite vibe, a particular disjointed mindset and I am not just referring to the weird plot, I mean in the way it was written, shot and performed. If I am honest. I am not sure tonight I was always in the groove with it, maybe it was having spent the day at work in my mind-numbing 9 to 5 surrounded by beige and grey tedious indifference or maybe it was the fact that usually on a Monday I am operating on hardly any sleep but sometimes I connected with it and other times I didn't. Hence I need to see it again and soon. Clear headed, awake and ready to go anywhere with it.
I am not even going to bother to try and explain the plot in depth, as it would do the film a disservice, but it has something to do with a drug called soy sauce that makes you see into the past and the future, travelling to other dimensions, monsters, friendship, zombies, exorcisms and a magic dog. Anyway, this thing is different and I urge everyone to see it.
It's the mutant love child of Naked Lunch, Twin Peaks, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Phantasm and contains references to a dozen more cult genre favs.
In fact an ever so slight criticism of the film is that, while it clearly marches to the beat of its own drum, as much as it can, the script does, on occasion, have the distinct whiff of a fan boy's giggly, immature paws all over it but never to the annoyingly grating and smug extent of someone like a Tarantino (who has all the subtlety, where homages are concerned, of a 15 Ton, Monty Python, style weight).
On the plus side it has phenomenal, pleasing performances from almost the entire cast, it's directed and edited with Coscarelli's usual charm, flourish and delight in the downright weird or darkly comic and the script throws endless curveballs at you both clever, comedic and also sometimes just for curveballs sake. I am not someone who usually likes a film that tries to be all smug, clever and different for difference sake and I am pleased to report that John Dies At The End does narrowly avoid sliding into that territory.
There's also some great Bob Kurtzman practical effects and also some not so great B-Movie CGI but, to be honest, that they did it at all for the low budget, it's incredible.
I haven't read the book and from comments made in the Q&A I understand that a vast passage of it would be unfilmable, no matter how much money you had, but I can say that the film version could have, to please more pallets, attempted some level of coherence in it's third act. What it lacks in pleasing structure, however, it more than makes up for in vivid, intriguing and artful images.
Now is it ever going to be as successful or as much of a fan favourite as the Phantasm series? probably not and will it ever match up against the understated perfection of Bubba Ho-Tep? definitely not but that's not to discount it, when you have a resume as sparse but as cult and fan friendly as Coscarelli's, winning out over past glories becomes a fools errand and, with John Dies At The End, he, thankfully, doesn't try to. There is, however, plenty here that fans of his previous work will eat up with a spoon.
It has been 10 years since Bubba and 7 years since his Masters of Horror episode and in that time mostly all we've heard about was the ill-fated Bubba sequel. I, for one, am glad that John Dies was, eventually, the film Coscarelli made and not Bubba Nosferatu, while he will no doubt get a lot of idiot critics desperately trying to compare this film to the nuanced brilliance of Bubba Ho-tep, imagine how much harsher it would be if he had gone ahead with the planned, Campbell-less, sequel instead.
As much as I believe this film will divide his fans and have as many embracers as detractors, I am going to go ahead and say we NEED films like this and we NEED film-makers like Don Coscarelli. At the Q&A Paul Giamatti said that it's films like this that America should be embracing, he is clearly a passionate genre fan, and I couldn't agree more. Love it or hate it we just don't get enough films like this being made and so when one comes along I think we owe it to ourselves, as passionate genre fans also, to do what we can to make sure it's not the last time a film like this sees the inside of a cinema.
Me with director Don Coscarelli
Other photos from the Q&A
Christmas Cinema Viewing - Pulpy Thrillers and Pointless Bum Nummers
The wife and I like to, over the Christmas period, visit the movie theatre and check out all the new films pushing and fighting their way into the multi-screen havens of stale popcorn, rancid piss smells and cough created germs at the hope of the almighty seasonal dollar.
This year was no exception.
Saturday December 22nd we strolled in and watched new Tom Cruise vehicle, Jack Reacher.
Now, firstly, a couple of things: I have never read a Jack Reacher book and I was only excited to see this film, initially for 2 reasons
1) Action Cruise tends to be good Cruise and
2) Werner herzog as a Bond style villain with a comically milky eye.
Apart from those things I had fairly low expectations and they were further lowered when I was set upon on Twitter and told that it was a load of old rubbish and I should avoid it.
Well I'll tell you the problem with Jack Reacher the movie and no, Lee Child purists, it has nothing to do with Tom Cruise's height you bunch of negative whiny bitches. The problem with Jack Reacher the movie was the marketing. As always marketing companies (who should really change their name to mismarketing companies or talentless hacks, they can take their pick) have fouled this up and advertised it as a relatively dumb action film. This is to do the film a disservice as it has a clever witty script, it trundles along at a decent pace, the performances are excellent and it's a good old fashioned pulpy, unpretentious, wise-crakin', ass-whuppin' good time of a conspiracy thriller.
It has a twisty-turny-yet-fairly-obvious-if-you-know-how-these-things-go type story to tell and it gets in and out with no fuss. The action is good, clear, tight and to the point too with a great finale that manages to amuse, thrill and surprise in a satisfying way.
In the shadow of the events recently in Connecticut it's a little tricky in parts because it does fall squarely on the side of the right wing where guns are concerned but, to be fair, that is hardwired into its western style, dime novel sensibility.
Lastly the casting of Werner Herzog is a stroke of sheer genius, every word he utters (and that's not a lot as he doesn't have nearly enough scenes) is the sort of nonsensical yet deep sounding babble that drips from the Bavarian's lips as easy as if he were reading a shopping list. It's an absolute wonder to behold and, actually, a little went a long way where he was concerned, any more and it would've veered into really questionable and confusing Bond style villain antics and that would've derailed the simplicity and succinctness with which Christopher McQuarrie told the story.
The wife and I thoroughly enjoyed this, sorry if you didn't that is a real shame because this movie is fun, aware of its cliches but written well enough to not over play them.
8 out of 10
Next up was This is 40 on Dec 24th
which really needed to be renamed 'Man these attractive white folk who are their own worst enemy really do whine ALOT!'
Ok, let's get started. I have a love hate relationship with Judd Apatow. I love that he has made possible some really great comedy films and that without him comedy in the last 10 years might have been just whatever Tyler Perry finds funny this week but I hate Judd Apatow because of his clear belief that, in his own directed films at least, that he is some Woody Allen like exposer of deep truths and a witty commentator on the silly little flaws of human nature. I also hate him because he seems to think showing naked bits of people that are usually, thankfully covered up is somehow hilarious and daring... oh and he produces that shitfest of incessantly pointless whiny drivel and mind numbingly shallow pile of arse 'Girls'... oh and he puts his famous musician friends in movies... oh and he needs someone to tell him to fucking stop once in a while.
Lets make something clear, hardly any film needs to be over 2hrs long and certainly not a comedy. OK. There are only a handful of stories in the world and the art form of film used to have a 90min standard because it worked. If you can't tell your story in a three act structure over the course of 90 minutes then you really shouldn't be working in film. You want to ramble? write a book, do a podcast anything but make a movie, let alone a comedy movie that is LITERALLY ABOUT NOTHING.
Are there exceptions to the 90min rule? sure - plenty.
Is there wiggle room where a movie at 105mins or even 120mins can be good or better? of course
Can you name a time you laughed for longer than 90mins? Probably not very frequently and certainly not at this Crate & Barrel catalogue looking mound of beige whining arse.
In fact John Cleese, the far too psychologically minded member of Monty Python, once said that, on average, people can laugh happily for around 40 minutes and after that there better be some plot, action or emotion going on to maintain momentum into the third act. The easiest example of this is Four Weddings and a Funeral because you laugh at the first three weddings, then there's the quiet bit where you are a little sad at the funeral, then end strong with a big, funny ending that ties all the story-lines together.
The trouble with 'This Is 40' is actually not that it isn't funny, it's actually, in places, very funny and when it comes to actual funny lines it is funnier than Apatow's previous effort 'Funny People' but the problem is it's not about anything.
The movie starts and two very annoying, idiotic, pretty people who live in a wonderful home, spend money like it's going out of style and with two daughters who are far cleverer and less annoying than them, have two Dads both of whom fucked up their first marriage and are now living with second families with varying degrees of success. When the movie ends this is all still true, except that Leslie Mann's Dad, played by John Lithgow, is a little more sympathetic and that's it. Nothing is learnt, nothing has changed and no one has said to these two whiny, whingey, stupid people "Shut the fuck up and sort yourselves out!"
The performances are fine too, although Leslie Mann, because of her high pitched nasaly voice, gets to points in this film where I could've quite easily beaten her to death with a shovel but all round there's nothing really bad about the way it's acted or shot.
It's just we're talking about a film where two people, because of their woeful communication, utter inability to manage their money and staggering lack of personal awareness and insight decide that selling their beautiful home is the solution to their problems rather than, I don't know, not spending $12,000 on flying a band no one has ever heard of ever to play in a tiny bar, not spending $10,000 on a catered Birthday party and suing the pilled-up, drippy girl who just robbed them of another $10,000.
I don't care about any of the people in this film and if the ending was that they were all mowed down by a hail of machine gun bullets from the arseholes of 8ft robot destroyers it wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest and, at least, it would've been an ending.
4 out of 10
Lastly, Django Unchained on Dec 25th
I don't even know where to begin with this. Well, firstly, unlike this film, I'll just give you a quick bit of back story. I used to like Tarantino. My patience wained with him, however, somewhere around the middle of Kill Bill 2 and after the howling and irritating mistakes of Death Proof and the masturbatory Inglorious Basterds I was about ready to give up.
Then came Django Unchained. I have seen the original, Franco Nero starring, film which is an ambiguous, rambling, strange, pulp, cult spaghetti western and like it, for what it is.
So, there, a few sentences and you understand where I am coming from and can probably see I didn't enter the screening tonight with anything more than a glimmer of hope.
Well after what felt like 5hrs but was really, a still ludicrous, 2hrs 45mins later I left the cinema utterly frustrated because while half of me wants to scream, shout, break things and write Tarantino off completely as a tired, old, unoriginal, repetitive, long winded, self congratulatory, masturbatory hack, the other half of me found a lot to enjoy in this saga of a film.
Whichever way you slice it though, it's TOO DAMN LONG. It's not one film, it's about eight and like all of Tarantino's stuff it's ever so pleased with itself and the way it sounds. For the first 3 films Christoph Waltz wanders around with a case of, sometimes amusing but mostly incessant, verbal diarrhea and in the second 5 films he is joined in his eloquent verbiage by Leonardo DiCaprio. They both swan about spewing out endless dialogue for ages and ages and ages.
Then, after all the talk, there's lots of shooting and blood letting, just like there was at the end of the previous 7 films that make up Django Unchained and also at the end of Inglorious Basterds because, in the absence of plot or momentum, violence will do.
I felt like I was actually living the year that this film takes place in, every single day of it, every moment.
I firmly believe that Tarantino is so surrounded by sycophantic dribbling nerds in his infamous screening room in LA that no one has the balls to read one of his scripts and say to him "MAKE IT SHORTER" and no the answer, in this case, just like it wasn't for Kill Bill and isn't for the Hobbit, is not to make this two films, three films, eight films, whatever. It's to have an editor or a script doctor go over his work and tear vast useless chunks out of it and then say "there... go make that movie"
So enthralled is he with his own repetitive, obvious and not-as-clever-as-it-thinks-it-is dialogue that he believes every word must be left in, clearly! because, if not, explain to me how a fairly run of the mill rescue and revenge film takes almost 3hrs to finish.
Ok, so enough about the bloated running time, what about the whole 'making Django African American' thing, well considering the time period this film is set in (2 years before the civil war) it's an absolutely brilliant idea if he hadn't already done the same thing with the far superior Jackie Brown. Also, before everyone goes and gets confused, thinking that Django somehow has some big important statement to make about racism, slavery, hatred etc. it doesn't.
Honestly, it really doesn't.
I don't know about you but I didn't need 2hrs 45mins of N words and racist violence from Quentin Tarantino to know that slavery was wrong and despicable. Ok?
This is how the conversation went at Tarantino towers:
"The original Django is set just after the civil war and this is going to be a prequel. Well, you know how I like black people and am best friends with Samuel L Jackson? how about Django is black and we set it before the civil war... am I a genius or what"
That's it people, seriously.
If the film was more serious then I would completely take your point but, and I hate to sound like Spike Lee because he's an over reactionary idiot who needs to get over himself, sitting watching the film is a bit like watching a white guy relish getting away with a ton of harsh racist slurs and referencing things like Mandingo fighting while patting himself on that back for being oh-so-clever.
And on that subject, Tarantino, just because you know one German opera does not make you a cultural scholar, ok?! especially when you have so little faith in your own audiences intelligence that you spell out EXACTLY your incredibly obvious plot references.
Lastly, and then I'll get on to some good stuff about the film, Tarantino needs to pick: either you're making an exploitation film or you are making an epic western with a serious message. Never before have a mix of genres and styles from someone who is supposedly a master at it, been so all over the place.
Man it was a frustrating vast chunk of my time I will never get back.
On the good side the acting is showboaty but entertaining, the script has some genuinely funny and exciting moments and the direction, when he can be bothered, is decent. His use of titling and soundtrack however, is, by now, completely tedious and irritating.
The exploitation elements are fantastic, the gore is excessive, the gun play enjoyable and the odd comic asides, like a scene where early Klan members dispute their poorly made eyeholes in their hoods, are genuinely surprising and funny but would be perfect if included in an exploitation film length film.
Despite the length there was enough going on to keep me watching but it felt like plowing through a miniseries on a Sunday afternoon rather than watching a film. The cinematography was pleasing and there was some interesting use of the camera but if I am honest, I am struggling to come up with lots of really positive things about it.
We all know that Tarantino rips off other films but when he starts ripping himself off (the exploitation violence and Tarantino cameo of Resevoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, the African American switch from Jackie Brown, the epic length and revenge plot from Kill Bill, the shoot everything ending from Inglorious Basterds - shall I go on) it's maybe time someone call him on his bullshit.
All I can say is, despite how this review sounds, I didn't hate it and the things that are wrong with it come completely from Tarantino (and others) believing that his shit doesn't stink. There is a GREAT film in there screaming, kicking, clawing and endlessly nattering trying to get out but until he either gets an editor or someone cuts him down a peg or two, he's not going to make one again it seems.
As to whether I will ever watch another QT film in the cinema (I have seen every single one since Pulp Fiction) well when the next one comes out, if it's below 2hrs long then I'll think about it.
5 out of 10
This year was no exception.
Saturday December 22nd we strolled in and watched new Tom Cruise vehicle, Jack Reacher.
1) Action Cruise tends to be good Cruise and
2) Werner herzog as a Bond style villain with a comically milky eye.
Apart from those things I had fairly low expectations and they were further lowered when I was set upon on Twitter and told that it was a load of old rubbish and I should avoid it.
Well I'll tell you the problem with Jack Reacher the movie and no, Lee Child purists, it has nothing to do with Tom Cruise's height you bunch of negative whiny bitches. The problem with Jack Reacher the movie was the marketing. As always marketing companies (who should really change their name to mismarketing companies or talentless hacks, they can take their pick) have fouled this up and advertised it as a relatively dumb action film. This is to do the film a disservice as it has a clever witty script, it trundles along at a decent pace, the performances are excellent and it's a good old fashioned pulpy, unpretentious, wise-crakin', ass-whuppin' good time of a conspiracy thriller.
It has a twisty-turny-yet-fairly-obvious-if-you-know-how-these-things-go type story to tell and it gets in and out with no fuss. The action is good, clear, tight and to the point too with a great finale that manages to amuse, thrill and surprise in a satisfying way.
In the shadow of the events recently in Connecticut it's a little tricky in parts because it does fall squarely on the side of the right wing where guns are concerned but, to be fair, that is hardwired into its western style, dime novel sensibility.
Lastly the casting of Werner Herzog is a stroke of sheer genius, every word he utters (and that's not a lot as he doesn't have nearly enough scenes) is the sort of nonsensical yet deep sounding babble that drips from the Bavarian's lips as easy as if he were reading a shopping list. It's an absolute wonder to behold and, actually, a little went a long way where he was concerned, any more and it would've veered into really questionable and confusing Bond style villain antics and that would've derailed the simplicity and succinctness with which Christopher McQuarrie told the story.
The wife and I thoroughly enjoyed this, sorry if you didn't that is a real shame because this movie is fun, aware of its cliches but written well enough to not over play them.
8 out of 10
Next up was This is 40 on Dec 24th
Ok, let's get started. I have a love hate relationship with Judd Apatow. I love that he has made possible some really great comedy films and that without him comedy in the last 10 years might have been just whatever Tyler Perry finds funny this week but I hate Judd Apatow because of his clear belief that, in his own directed films at least, that he is some Woody Allen like exposer of deep truths and a witty commentator on the silly little flaws of human nature. I also hate him because he seems to think showing naked bits of people that are usually, thankfully covered up is somehow hilarious and daring... oh and he produces that shitfest of incessantly pointless whiny drivel and mind numbingly shallow pile of arse 'Girls'... oh and he puts his famous musician friends in movies... oh and he needs someone to tell him to fucking stop once in a while.
Lets make something clear, hardly any film needs to be over 2hrs long and certainly not a comedy. OK. There are only a handful of stories in the world and the art form of film used to have a 90min standard because it worked. If you can't tell your story in a three act structure over the course of 90 minutes then you really shouldn't be working in film. You want to ramble? write a book, do a podcast anything but make a movie, let alone a comedy movie that is LITERALLY ABOUT NOTHING.
Are there exceptions to the 90min rule? sure - plenty.
Is there wiggle room where a movie at 105mins or even 120mins can be good or better? of course
Can you name a time you laughed for longer than 90mins? Probably not very frequently and certainly not at this Crate & Barrel catalogue looking mound of beige whining arse.
In fact John Cleese, the far too psychologically minded member of Monty Python, once said that, on average, people can laugh happily for around 40 minutes and after that there better be some plot, action or emotion going on to maintain momentum into the third act. The easiest example of this is Four Weddings and a Funeral because you laugh at the first three weddings, then there's the quiet bit where you are a little sad at the funeral, then end strong with a big, funny ending that ties all the story-lines together.
The trouble with 'This Is 40' is actually not that it isn't funny, it's actually, in places, very funny and when it comes to actual funny lines it is funnier than Apatow's previous effort 'Funny People' but the problem is it's not about anything.
The movie starts and two very annoying, idiotic, pretty people who live in a wonderful home, spend money like it's going out of style and with two daughters who are far cleverer and less annoying than them, have two Dads both of whom fucked up their first marriage and are now living with second families with varying degrees of success. When the movie ends this is all still true, except that Leslie Mann's Dad, played by John Lithgow, is a little more sympathetic and that's it. Nothing is learnt, nothing has changed and no one has said to these two whiny, whingey, stupid people "Shut the fuck up and sort yourselves out!"
The performances are fine too, although Leslie Mann, because of her high pitched nasaly voice, gets to points in this film where I could've quite easily beaten her to death with a shovel but all round there's nothing really bad about the way it's acted or shot.
It's just we're talking about a film where two people, because of their woeful communication, utter inability to manage their money and staggering lack of personal awareness and insight decide that selling their beautiful home is the solution to their problems rather than, I don't know, not spending $12,000 on flying a band no one has ever heard of ever to play in a tiny bar, not spending $10,000 on a catered Birthday party and suing the pilled-up, drippy girl who just robbed them of another $10,000.
I don't care about any of the people in this film and if the ending was that they were all mowed down by a hail of machine gun bullets from the arseholes of 8ft robot destroyers it wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest and, at least, it would've been an ending.
4 out of 10
Lastly, Django Unchained on Dec 25th
Then came Django Unchained. I have seen the original, Franco Nero starring, film which is an ambiguous, rambling, strange, pulp, cult spaghetti western and like it, for what it is.
So, there, a few sentences and you understand where I am coming from and can probably see I didn't enter the screening tonight with anything more than a glimmer of hope.
Well after what felt like 5hrs but was really, a still ludicrous, 2hrs 45mins later I left the cinema utterly frustrated because while half of me wants to scream, shout, break things and write Tarantino off completely as a tired, old, unoriginal, repetitive, long winded, self congratulatory, masturbatory hack, the other half of me found a lot to enjoy in this saga of a film.
Whichever way you slice it though, it's TOO DAMN LONG. It's not one film, it's about eight and like all of Tarantino's stuff it's ever so pleased with itself and the way it sounds. For the first 3 films Christoph Waltz wanders around with a case of, sometimes amusing but mostly incessant, verbal diarrhea and in the second 5 films he is joined in his eloquent verbiage by Leonardo DiCaprio. They both swan about spewing out endless dialogue for ages and ages and ages.
Then, after all the talk, there's lots of shooting and blood letting, just like there was at the end of the previous 7 films that make up Django Unchained and also at the end of Inglorious Basterds because, in the absence of plot or momentum, violence will do.
I felt like I was actually living the year that this film takes place in, every single day of it, every moment.
I firmly believe that Tarantino is so surrounded by sycophantic dribbling nerds in his infamous screening room in LA that no one has the balls to read one of his scripts and say to him "MAKE IT SHORTER" and no the answer, in this case, just like it wasn't for Kill Bill and isn't for the Hobbit, is not to make this two films, three films, eight films, whatever. It's to have an editor or a script doctor go over his work and tear vast useless chunks out of it and then say "there... go make that movie"
So enthralled is he with his own repetitive, obvious and not-as-clever-as-it-thinks-it-is dialogue that he believes every word must be left in, clearly! because, if not, explain to me how a fairly run of the mill rescue and revenge film takes almost 3hrs to finish.
Ok, so enough about the bloated running time, what about the whole 'making Django African American' thing, well considering the time period this film is set in (2 years before the civil war) it's an absolutely brilliant idea if he hadn't already done the same thing with the far superior Jackie Brown. Also, before everyone goes and gets confused, thinking that Django somehow has some big important statement to make about racism, slavery, hatred etc. it doesn't.
Honestly, it really doesn't.
I don't know about you but I didn't need 2hrs 45mins of N words and racist violence from Quentin Tarantino to know that slavery was wrong and despicable. Ok?
This is how the conversation went at Tarantino towers:
"The original Django is set just after the civil war and this is going to be a prequel. Well, you know how I like black people and am best friends with Samuel L Jackson? how about Django is black and we set it before the civil war... am I a genius or what"
That's it people, seriously.
If the film was more serious then I would completely take your point but, and I hate to sound like Spike Lee because he's an over reactionary idiot who needs to get over himself, sitting watching the film is a bit like watching a white guy relish getting away with a ton of harsh racist slurs and referencing things like Mandingo fighting while patting himself on that back for being oh-so-clever.
And on that subject, Tarantino, just because you know one German opera does not make you a cultural scholar, ok?! especially when you have so little faith in your own audiences intelligence that you spell out EXACTLY your incredibly obvious plot references.
Lastly, and then I'll get on to some good stuff about the film, Tarantino needs to pick: either you're making an exploitation film or you are making an epic western with a serious message. Never before have a mix of genres and styles from someone who is supposedly a master at it, been so all over the place.
Man it was a frustrating vast chunk of my time I will never get back.
On the good side the acting is showboaty but entertaining, the script has some genuinely funny and exciting moments and the direction, when he can be bothered, is decent. His use of titling and soundtrack however, is, by now, completely tedious and irritating.
The exploitation elements are fantastic, the gore is excessive, the gun play enjoyable and the odd comic asides, like a scene where early Klan members dispute their poorly made eyeholes in their hoods, are genuinely surprising and funny but would be perfect if included in an exploitation film length film.
Despite the length there was enough going on to keep me watching but it felt like plowing through a miniseries on a Sunday afternoon rather than watching a film. The cinematography was pleasing and there was some interesting use of the camera but if I am honest, I am struggling to come up with lots of really positive things about it.
We all know that Tarantino rips off other films but when he starts ripping himself off (the exploitation violence and Tarantino cameo of Resevoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, the African American switch from Jackie Brown, the epic length and revenge plot from Kill Bill, the shoot everything ending from Inglorious Basterds - shall I go on) it's maybe time someone call him on his bullshit.
All I can say is, despite how this review sounds, I didn't hate it and the things that are wrong with it come completely from Tarantino (and others) believing that his shit doesn't stink. There is a GREAT film in there screaming, kicking, clawing and endlessly nattering trying to get out but until he either gets an editor or someone cuts him down a peg or two, he's not going to make one again it seems.
As to whether I will ever watch another QT film in the cinema (I have seen every single one since Pulp Fiction) well when the next one comes out, if it's below 2hrs long then I'll think about it.
5 out of 10