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It’s Not My Favorite Film

After avoiding it for twenty years, I made the mistake of watching the movie Swingers.
 
What an utter pile of dog shit. If you’re a fan, please, for the love of my fragile sanity explain to me just what the draw is. I mean, outside of the fraternity “Bro” crowd, I cannot see how anyone could find anything redeeming in that disjointed, poorly-written film. Had they simply taken the film from the tin and wiped it WITH that dog shit mentioned a couple of sentences back, the flow would have been more enjoyable and logical to follow.
 
“But it’s a nineties CLASSIC!!” these bearded, man bun-wearing hipsters will cry. I can only reply to that with a dose of reality:
No matter how you try to sugar-coat it, the 1990’s were garbage. Take off those blue mirror-tinted Gargoyles (or Heaven forbid BLADES, you moron) and turn down the Fugees, and wake to realize that films like this are worse than a splash of mustard on your Hypercolor t-shirt; a big disappointment.
 
Then again, I don’t like the movie Scarface. I cannot begin to put into words just how much I hate that fucking film. I can recall when it was on SpikeTV nearly every four hours, and probably goes a long way in explaining why that network sucked balls in nearly every respect outside of MXC, which should put things into perspective, having been simply an over-dubbed edit of the show Takeshi’s Castle. Say hello to acting school, you dwarf-ass guido shitbag. I don’t for a minute buy that you’re a Cuban. If you’re going to remake a film, at least do it some justice. The Pacino version is like the new Ghostbusters of remakes, only instead of being a bunch of man-hating hacks, Tony is a film-hating spaghetti bender playing a laughable Latin. Speaking of which, they’re talking about RE-remaking it. Yeah… the guy who just remade The Magnificent Seven is going to remake this slimy turd. Such talent, Antoine. You should go on a cooking show and serve leftovers. I’ve nearly gotten off track here. Where were we? Oh yeah, the LA cocktail scene of the 1990’s as seen through the eyes of a half-wit.
 
Swingers may have been the film that “defined” Vince Vaughn or whatever some idiots claim, but the thing is aggravatingly drawn-out and sheer and utter bromance bullshit. I really don’t want to sit there for the duration of the movie feeling embarrassed for this group of self-important failures. The entire thing feels like a rip-off of Clerks, but with characters you just wish would drop their showbiz dreams, exit the film and move back to wherever they fucking came from in the first place. You know when you watch something and root for characters to be offed? That gun scene had be thinking “well it’s about fucking TIME!!” And then in true 1990’s fashion, it turned out to be just a bunch of candy-ass parking lot posturing with a feel-good ending wherein they all get together to play video games. How dare you bring Hockey into this. IS NOTHING SACRED?!
 
I blame this film for the influx of douchebags and their ilk trying to be Mickey Rourke caricatures and running around quoting movies in the late 1990’s, and that crime can never be fully apologized for. Oh, you come close with the first Iron Man,  Johnny-boy. Hell, even Cowboys and Aliens or Elf to a point. But watching you in Swingers?! Fucking fuhgeddaboudit.
 
Like I said, Favreau went on to do some pretty good things afterward… So sitting around blaming this movie for everything is a crime tantamount to disregarding the shoddily-designed catapult that launched Wile E. Coyote into a cliff wall; sometimes you can forgive and even overlook the poorly-designed vehicle that got you to where you needed to be, even if that destination was splattered against a cliff wall in he desert. In that light, I’ll stick to implicating the film in having influenced a generation of weak-minded frat boys running around calling things “money.” And yes, if you’re quoting a Spike Lee-directed Nike commercial via a poorly written, lit and presented “movie,” well, you’re relatively weak-minded.
 
Short version, I fucking hate the movie Swingers. Ask me anything.
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The New Wave of Chick Flicks

Oh, Hollywood, when will you learn?

NO ONE wants to see a classic movie like Ghostbusters ruined by changing it all up to become some all-woman buddy movie, as evidenced by the deafening silence in theaters. You re-make, re-launch and re-define everything until the life is sucked from it time and again, and we the viewing public take the brunt of the abuse.

I’d suggest pulling out of these cluster-fucks once and for all, and not subjecting us to any more “creative” torture. Please don’t even consider casting Tina Fey, Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy and Jennifer Lawrence in Band of Sisters. Or thinking along that line,  Rosie O’Donnell as Henrietta Hill in Goodsisters, or skipping ahead into The Godmother: Part II starring Angelina Jolie. Dirty Harriet starring Sandra Locke, or Kate Beckinsale in the relaunch of Lethal (But Stylish!) Weapon. Jennifer Garner and Janeane Garofalo in a comic team-up relaunch of the Charles Bronson Death Wish series (could even go all wicked witch/fairy princess-like and make it about a fantasy wish of death OR an empowering film about a female extreme sports junkie in true Hollywood bullshit fashion), or a Smokey and the Bandit relaunch with Sandra Bullock and Catherine Zeta-Jones and Queen Latifah (with Lena Dunham and Gabourey Sidibe as a mixed-race, plus-size, same-sex cop duo)… Or dare you cross the line into sacred territory and completely ruin Caddyshack by making it a feel-good, all-female Summer romp starring Jodie Foster, Jane Lynch, Meredith Baxter and Sara Gilbert, in which the main plot centers around liberal talking points and female empowerment, set against the backdrop of the Bush Presidency. The Diva Dozen could be an ensemble musical which is anchored by the return to the big screen of Lindsay Lohan, while the more eco-sensitive classic chase scene from Bullitt could have a bio diesel-powered Volvo pitted against a Prius, but filmed somewhere relatively flat, like Kate Hudson.

Again, Hollywood, these are not pitches. It’s time to go home and rethink some things. What do you say?

The Ever-Lowering Opinion on Spider-Man as it Relates to Black Widow’s Breasts

My Family’s Dinnertime Roundtable Discussion Presents:

Spider-Man

“Why do they keep making Spider-Man suck so bad?”
“He sucks so bad his parents left.”
“And why is he like twelve in Civil War?”
(In mocking falsetto voice) “Hey, everybody! These pants are waaaaayyyyyy tiiiiiiiight!”
“He’s SUPPOSED to be young.”
“Not THAT young. He’s in High School, right? That dude hasn’t hit puberty. School must be rough.”
“Especially with such a hot Aunt. And big head. And 35 year old facial features.”
“Maybe that’s why he cries all of the time.”
“That guy quit. And he was like forty.”
“Anyway… This relaunch crap should stop. All of the other characters are progressing in real-time, right? So like Tony Stark is aging and losing his marbles, the Captain has out-lived his hot nurse friend, and the Hulk has a receding hairline. Why not age Spider-Man?”
“Black Widow may need to shift that neck line a bit.”
“Wait….WHAT??!”
“So why isn’t Spider-Man left to age and move on?”
“What about Black Widow? Are you saying that her, uh… you know. Might be sagging?”
“Yes. But Spider-Man is defying age. He is the Oil of Olay of the Marvel universe. That bastard has been sitting dormant for years. They should show the effects of that.”
“So Scarlet Johansson is looking worse for wear?”
“Be like the Hulk and get off of her.”
“Well, now…”
“If the Hulk and Black Widow could have kids, they’d need second jobs to buy all of those purple pants.”
“All I’m saying is that while every other character has done pretty well and moved on in life, Spider-Man is caught in this weird loop of suck. He hasn’t ever really had a good movie. They should portray that. Self-deprecation worked for Deadpool, right?”
“But Deadpool wasn’t some whiny douche. Between the cancer and the self-healing and whatnot, his brains are all scrambled. Yet, he moves on.”
“Exactly. He accepted his fate. Much like Black Widow and her ever-lowering boobs.”
“Enough of that.”
“They should assign her to an Avenger Space Station to help her out. Like some form of long-term disability.”
“I said ENOUGH OF THAT.”
“That’s what the costume department keeps saying.”
“Anyway… By now, Spider-Man should be a little overweight, move slowly, and show signs of depression. That mask should be hiding a huge beard, and the back of his suit should have a panel or two stitched-in to make it fit.”
“And mustard and pit sweat stains.”
“And cat hair all over it.”
“…or the bottom half of the mask is just cut away to make sliding a pizza in there easier.”
“And stretch marks from his man-boobs.”
“…but like higher on the suit than Black Widow’s.”
“Is there dessert? I hope so. We have a lot more ground to cover.”

Overdub-a-dub-a-dub

Mid-Week Motion Picture Blockbuster Idea Time!
 
In today’s pitch, we examine an alternate dimension/time travel story which may work even better as a YouTube channel, as the Copyright issues are more inexpensively solved by simply shutting it down, versus paying a lot of royalties and licensing fees; not to mention saving time in meetings and all of that crap. That said, I present to you another of my “BILLION-DOLLAR FLASHES OF BRILLIANCE.”
 
In this concept, we have a film studio mogul, Fred Lerner, who is on his last dime, and desperate to help not only his studio, but that of his adopted, half-twin brother Marjeesh, whose Bollywood studio is about a half-century ahead of its time.
 
In the grand tradition of colorizing classic cinema, Lerner has this idea to concentrate on the sound of films, namely Westerns and Cowboy films, by overdubbing the Native American voices with those of actual Indians (from India). Imagine films like Stagecoach being adapted not only for profit, but to ease College kids from their safe spaces by replacing the threat of an Apache attack with something far more pedestrian:
[insert wavy filter, a-la a “Brady Bunch” dream sequence]
 
Cavalry scout: These calls are full of Windows 10 help desk scams. They’ve called every number in town.
 
[referring to Indian scout]
 
Cavalry scout: He had a brush with them last night. Says they’re being stirred up by Dave in Houston.
 
Capt. Sickel: Dave in Houston? How do we know he isn’t lying?
 
Cavalry scout: No, he’s a white guy. They hate telemarketers worse than we do.
 
…or watching Two Chicken Vindaloo for Sister Sarah, or even more modern films like Cowboys and Undocumented/Questionable Visa Status Workers, or Brokeback Call Center. That last one will be a triumph in OUR film, as Fred Lerner will call upon the talents of his colleague Jorge Dukas to assist in digitally remastering and adding a CGI sidekick, Jayjit Chirkut for comedic relief. The seventeen prequels will introduce a host of action figures and mini mall play sets.
 
In any event, the films are a success (that is, the films within OUR film… That’s not to say that they wouldn’t be better than the shit that Hollywood – or Bollywood, for that matter – crank out now), and Lerner actually jump-starts the entire Bollywood thing, which, as it turns out, was all a dream in the secondary subconscious dream world of Marjeesh, having accidentally ingested too much curry while bathing in the Ganges. It’s like “Inception” but with more poo.
 
Next time we’ll explore the fertile and as-yet unspoiled genre, the “Documentary about the Making-of Documentary Disguised as an Expose’ Wrapped in a Tribute and Served as a Converastionalist-Style Monologue Between the Multiple Personalities of a Movie Blogger Who Only Watches Sci-Fi Trailers on a Sketchy-at-Best Airline Wi-Fi Connection.”

B-Side Single Video Production

If you’re a band and looking to create a video for a B-side single, the least that you can do is hire a B-movie director to craft the thing. It just makes sense, you know?

Focusing on the golden era of music videos, I can’t help but imagine “Murder By Numbers” from the Police, set as a Larry Cohen short film, with the numbers in question bridging It’s Alive with a slightly more cerebral The Stuff. Better than that, a Troma Pictures-esque video for “How Soon is Now?” from the Smiths… Or even a super-low budget Robert Rodriguez-directed “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell, which, while not a true B-side in that form, it was originally a Gloria Jones tune (1964; re-released in ’76, and then covered by Soft Cell in 1981 should you be keeping score), which could be an utterly epic, if not campy sci-fi-thriller about imported love that is, well, tainted with a virus. Or a present-day Jerry Lewis in a Rob Zombie-directed remake of Michael Jackson’s Thriller short, but using the original cut, “Starlight.”

Or we can abandon the B-side thing in favor of an Adam Jones stop-motion epic for The Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me” (which was the A-side to the terrible “Seconds” – don’t get me wrong, that whole JFK thing could work as a John Waters send-up), set as a peek into the breaking mind of a jilted lover… So many ideas.

Back to the Welles in a Hearst

My Jeopardy dreams are recorded in front of a live studio audience. I know this because I scanned every one of their stolid eyes. Even the ones with one eye, of which there were four.
 
Alex: “After his gat explodes and he switches his mind back to freak mode, both Nate Dogg and his buddy Warren G were in need of something else.”
 
Me: “What are ‘Dames that is sexy as hell?'”
 
Alex: “You’re tweaking into a whole new era, Brian.”
 
Me: “If the questions are a buster, I’ll regulate, Alex.”
 
Alex: “Save it, motherfucker.”
 
And then he shot me. As I lay there in a slowly expanding pool of the blood which was pumping from the wound on my neck, I couldn’t help but think “to be honest, I don’t think that Sajak would have been nearly as violent.” Then Bud Collyer stepped on my hand and whispered “to tell the truth, pal, he’d have been the least of your worries.” As he mashed my knuckles into the polished marble floor, he added “and my real name is Clayton. How do you like THEM apples?”
 
“That was sort of my hope,” I managed to say over the sound of snapping bone and tearing sinew. “Also, considering the blood loss here, it may not be MY time to beat the clock, you know?”
 
“Save it for the BONUS ROUND!!!”
 
As the crowd erupted into a frenzy, Collyer mouthed something but all I heard was what sounded like a thunderclap, and was thrust into consciousness and the feeling of my butt cheeks vibrating to the largest fart I’ve released in months. Having regained a sense of the moment, but one mysterious word was left ringing in my ear… “Dotto.”

Bonus Script Idea #9,017,244,592

Considering that in modern-day Hollywood, virtually everything can benefit from a remake, I’m finding time to finish a script idea that could go one of two ways:

1. ZAPRUDER! becomes a musical comedy, set in a just-off-Broadway theme, but as told from an independent filmmaker who is attempting to make the stage production of a play about another independent filmmaker who happens to capture an historic event on camera (only to later record over most of it with Gong Show reruns) into a feature film, but is doing so in guerrilla style, so as to avoid paying any of the actors, using the ruse of filming a “making of the documentary about the making of the play.” It’s all very Inception meets the Twilight Zone, but with the tone of an early episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. Assuming that the show were produced in the universe of A Clockwork Orange.

2. Zapruder: Rise of the Third Gunman becomes a 3-hour, single tracking shot action epic with Michael Bay-style explosions, telling the story of the Kennedy assassination… I’m leaning toward this, as the sheer joy of having Bruce Willis wander off-set in the final moments of the perfect shot leaves me tingling with anxiety.

Failing those, we could simply head back to the toilet and drop back into a parody:

inglorious bathrooms

It Will Be Simply Divine

No matter what effects or gimmicks or star-studded cast you throw at a movie… No matter the provenance of the script or the marketing power of the franchise, it will always pale in my eyes to John Waters’ Pink Flamingos. And that’s because no dogfight between the Millennium Falcon and seventeen TIE Fighters, nor the sinking of the Titanic or even the seamless CGI raising from the dead of James Cagney and Marilyn Monroe for an even more graphic remake of that scene on the stairs in A History of Violence can compare to the mind-etching, life-altering, stomach-churning experience of watching a three-hundred pound drag queen eat a dog turd. If art is meant to elicit a response that changes you, then yes, this trumps a midget trying to steal a ring from an animated dragon.

My thinking is that we get Bruce Jenner to bulk up, and remake that movie. I have another casting suggestion but she has a tight vacation schedule and we don’t have a lot of room in the budget for a treadmill.

Up next: We’ll cast my mash-up homage to Dirty Dancing and Scanners.

Nobody puts Revok in the corner.

Fan Fiction: “Fury Load”

Quote out of context that bred a movie idea:

“If you you stop to think about it, there’s probably little more terrifying in the world than a wedge-style, tractor-pulling chassis lumbering at wide-open throttle toward your town… Even more so if it’s covered with the papier mache penis-shaped parade float body that the drivers of said machine stole from you on the last trek down the hill.

We could craft an entire sub-plot centered around the citizens forced to help push it back up the hill following the plundering. This is gold.”

Granted, it’s no remake or live-action version of a seventy year old animated classic… or even a trilogy based on a thirteen page short story, but with a few hundred million in CGI effects, this could be the blockbuster you need, even if you did nothing to deserve it.

Fear the Summer Crossover

fart battle
Much like Fear the Walking Dead, the concept of a Summer prequel sub-series is not necessarily a fresh concept. In fact, a little digging uncovers one created for The Love Boat in August of 1981.
 
Anthropophobic Anna (aired in Canada as Fart Battle) tells the back-story of a cruise director suffering from a pathological fear of human company, and fills in the blanks left between the cliffhanger at the end of season four and the never-again mentioned character Jose’, the lovable stowaway with the humorous speech impediment. Loosely based on the Japanese Anime’ Taijin Kyofusho: The Farting Hostess, it’s loaded with gruesome scenes of sea sickness, food poisoning and obscenity-laced public address announcements. The pilot episode, “Lei-ing Lo/Isaac’s Dark Secret/Origin of the Feces”, which opens with the cruise director strangling a guest with a flowery necklace, quickly turns to deeper subject matter including slave trafficking and a passenger who defecates on room service trays left outside of guest cabins. An interesting sub-plot involves a Plastic Surgeon who performs an emergency anoplasty on the stunt double for an “adult film” being filmed in steerage after she falls on a porcupine (speaking of animals, sharp-eyed viewers will recognize Jack Hana of the San Diego Zoo as “Kelly-6000”, the transgender robot). The Captain has to work hard to keep his knowledge (and involvement) in the clandestine filmmaking hidden from his daughter, who is aboard the ship to write her doctoral thesis on the sexual healing potential shuffleboard, with specific regard to septuagenarian television drama stars seeking to reignite a career long faded.
 
While never released on DVD, you will no doubt stumble across a bootlegged copy or two at fan festivals, often spoken about in hushed tones. ABC has worked diligently to erase all memory of the failed attempt to lure Summer viewers. If you happen to be fortunate to find a copy or two, try to grab one with the commercials intact, if not for the rarely-seen Ted Kennedy Oldsmobile commercial, then definitely for the promo spot for the quickly-cancelled network crossover event of the week, Dr. Moreau’s Fantasy Island Celebrity Challenge.
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