Bonesaw Word Dump

Have y’all ever heard of MoviePass? I’m a subscriber, and it’s the best thing on earth: pay a subscription, you can see 1 movie a day in theaters. Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve neglected my MoviePass-- like I’m cheating on it with things like “work” and “sleep”. Today, my guilt reached a boiling point, and I decided to go see a movie. That movie was Annihilation. 

A quick aside: after the credits rolled, I was so excited to come home and write about this thing that I hardly had any time to process it. It’s been a couple of hours now, and I don’t think it’s getting any better, but I was just so compelled to review it, that I gave logic a giant middle finger and did what I wanted to do anyway.

My hedonism knows no boundaries. 

Where to start--? First, what a title: “Annihilation.” The name alone piqued my curiosity. As a little dude, I was always fascinated by concepts like oblivion, extinction, and annihilation. At nap time, instead of sleeping, I’d lay on my mat and try to imagine what it’d be like to not exist. And I don’t mean that in the “I’m-going-to-listen-to-Elliott-Smith-til-I-can’t-feel-feelings-anymore” kind of way; I was just curious as to what the state of not being would be like. Is that the same thing? I always thought the concept was pretty interesting, that is, until I realized that it would probably feel like nothing. That’s the hard part about growing up: sometimes you get the answers, and sometimes they’re really boring.

Anyway, this next part is going to be my attempt to summarize this film. I am, despite popular belief, NOT a trained professional. Also: spoilers. Read at your own risk.

SUMMARY: 

Something zips through the sky and hits a lighthouse (symbolism), and Natalie Portman is chilling in quarantine. Now there’s a bubble surrounding the area around the lighthouse, and people aren’t coming out of it. Flashbacks reveal that her husband, who is presumed dead, decided to go in, but then comes back and reveals absolutely nothing. This is still remarkable because he is the only person to actually return from the bubble. He has a seizure-thing and then he and Natalie Portman get abducted by the government. Stuff happens, she decides to join a team and go inside the bubble. Hilarity ensues. Imagine it’s set to the theme from the Benny Hill show. 

Here’s the thing: remember earlier in my review when I said I hadn’t had time to process this movie, but I didn’t think it would help? Well, this will be reflected in my review. I’d apologize, but I don’t actually feel bad-- I just want you to know so that there’s some kind of understanding about what follows. 

PROS: 

+ Visually, this shit has got it going on (in places). 

I’m sure I’ve said this before, and it’s such an umbrella compliment that can mean so many things, but in this case, I’m referring to design. There are visual elements in the film that pulled me out of my comfort zone and disoriented the shit out of me, which was cool because I tend to reside HARD in my comfort zone. Oddly enough, though, the cool stuff was spread so far that when it happened, it forced me to take notice. Otherwise, it’s kind of a boring walk through some woods and a swamp. 

+ The ending (sort of).

I don’t want to spoil it, but the ending had me asking myself questions like “did I just watch a cerebral thriller?” and “is this movie smarter than I am?” Despite being the proud owner of a double-digit IQ, I’m not usually one to walk away from a movie asking questions like this. The movie takes the little bits and pieces of gripping cinema and turns that shit up to 11 at the end, creating a sense of dread and helplessness that made sympathize with the main character. I feel like I was bamboozled-- that I went to see an updated version of Contact but got something closer to Alien, which is a good thing. I like surprises. 

CONS: 

+ The rest of the movie? 

I’m going to take a moment to gripe about something that has permeated nearly every movie of the last 30 years and needs to stop: the idea that sex is necessary to tell a story. There’s a romantic subplot here (because OF COURSE THERE IS), and it honestly didn’t make a lot of sense. This may be due, in part, to me being a eunuch (or a sociopath? depends on the day), but the confusion persists regardless. In a series of scenes meant to show viewers that Natalie Portman and her husband are in love, they have sex. While the dialogue between them does forthrightly shine light on a tired old trope, it ends in sex. Why? It absolutely doesn’t need to. I don’t think anyone in the audience was holding their breath until he inserted his penis into his wife-- one could safely assume. It lends nothing to the actual story. If that had been the only scene, I probably wouldn’t have noticed (or cared), but sex comes up a few other times in the movie, and I can’t help but think that the storyteller was certain that it was important to the plot. It wasn’t. In fact, it convoluted the whole thing. People do not need to have sex in EVERY film. It’s a tired, lazy trope to show characters having feelings for one another (or base urges). I wish it would stop, but the world could not care less about what I want, let alone Hollywood.

Eh, maybe.

Anyway, the rest of the movie was kind of lackluster. What I mean by this is that it did nothing interesting: it was a linear story told in a fairly predictable manner. It took no real risks. It’s not the end of the world, but for as wild as some of the praise-worthy scenes were, I expected a little more. 

+ The ending (sort of). 

It’s not a typo so much as a nod to the ending of the film (so much for subtlety): the ending also sucked. The ending could pretty neatly be divided into two parts, the first of which had my toes all curled up and a death grip on my armrests. Once I unclenched the muscles in my hands and feet, however, the ending just stopped doing it what it was supposed to: ending the story. There’s this lazy conclusion that fizzled out (zing), and just didn’t feel very deserved. Also, the movie takes concepts that it was so careful to draw attention to earlier and just ignores them. Finally, it looks like it’s setting up for a sequel, but the only story they could tell would end up being a wildly different movie, and I’m still not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Going back to the questions I asked earlier, I’d like to toss “am I too stupid to get this movie?” into the mix. Some parts felt like art for art’s sake, which is fine if you don’t really care about meaning. Others felt so purposeful, like there was a greater meaning you’re meant to glean from this film that I just couldn’t do on my own. I’m genuinely torn. I can’t tell if I liked this movie or not. It rides the thin line between genuine, thoughtful, artistic film, and Trudging Through a Swamp of Dogshit: The Movie. It’s a lot like Blade Runner 2049 in that regard, I’d say: if no one else understands your art, does it matter? Some people say that art can be cathartic, and might argue that artists do it for themselves (rather than an audience), but that sounds like the age-old tree-falling-in-the-woods question, to which the answer is “of course it does.” Hell, then again, I’m the only person reading these, so maybe I’m wrong. Anyway, I genuinely don’t know how to rate this movie, so I’m going to give it a resounding & for “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to rate this.” 

Turn Off Your Fucking Phone: An Ode to Some Doofus

You know who you are.

Last year, around the time the second Avengers film (Age of Ultron) was released, I had an epiphany: I came to the realization that promotional material for films is the bane of good story-telling. The genesis for this idea came from my experience in seeing the aforementioned Avengers film, because I realized that, at its conclusion, I found nothing in the movie to be a surprise. Now, me, I’m not clairvoyant, and I’m not claiming that the movie’s plot was so predictable; but, as it turns out, almost every revealing moment had already been teased in the trailers that had been released prior to the movie hitting box offices. My honest impression from seeing the movie was: 

“The trailer was better.”

This is sacrilege. Or is it? I mean, the trailer is meant to be, after all, a highlight reel from a movie that entices potential viewers into viewing the film. That said, I’ve found, in recent years, that trailers have come to include most, if not all, of a movie’s high points, thus rendering the actual movie-going experience almost... redundant (at least it is if you want your experience to be relatively surprising).

This experience gave me an idea (one that ties into this review, I promise): what if I went to see a movie without seeing so much as a scrap of promotional material?

Some things are unavoidable, of course. 

I made Captain America: Civil War that movie. To do this, I had to go to lengths most adults wouldn’t dream of. For nearly a year before its release, during the previews at every movie I went to see, I would either curl up into the fetal position, cover my ears, and hum through the trailer or run screaming out of the theater until the trailer had run its course. Additionally, I decided to go on a Facebook blackout for the six weeks before its release to minimize spoilers from social media. Hell, by the time it released, I barely knew what the movie was about, and I’d have known even less had it not been for the title. 

I had my suspicions that it would be a sequel. 

Anyway, turns out? This was/is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made regarding a movie. This doesn’t work for everything, I understand - for example, how could you ever know you would want to see a movie from an unknown franchise without some kind of idea of what the movie is about? This wasn’t that, however. This was a comic book film. I knew the players, I understood the game, but I wanted the outcome (and the road to that outcome) to be exciting and new, and my plan worked. This movie surprised me in a lot of ways. Here are the meat and potatoes: 

Pros:

+ Action Sequences.

Jesus H. Macy, whoever was staging the action sequences in this movie must have, I don’t know, read a comic book or something. A lot of the tension from the rest of the film bleeds into the fights between characters, and the outcome is incredible. Maybe it’s the shock of seeing characters pitted against characters that normally occupy the same side of a fight, or maybe it’s the scope of some of these battles (at the risk of SPOILING it, I have one word: “airport”), but this movie handles its action like a dagger. 

+ Tension building

The previous Captain America and Avengers films have done a decent job of teasing the rising tension between the two factions in the movie, but watching it all come to a head is so incredibly satisfying, especially because I fully empathize with one particular side over another (but that’s probably a topic of conversation for another venue).

This, right here, is as good a time as any to talk about one reason that the Marvel film universe is seeing such success while the DC film universe isn’t even treading water: patience. Marvel has spent years and years building these characters - Iron Man had two movies and Captain America had one before any of this cross-team stuff showed up. Through these films, audiences were able to gain real insight into what these characters were all about (Iron Man being a charismatic billionaire who’s concerned with security, Cap being a kid from Brooklyn who “doesn’t like bullies”), and so when the big team-up happens, very few people are in the dark about where characters’ priorities lie. This tension had been building since that first Avengers film (2012); they play the long game with their characters, and this movie is one of the payoffs from that. 

CONS:

- Helmut Zemo

Comic vs. Film

First, let me preface this by saying: I know that this story is an adaptation, and that things will change. I’m not “that guy” - I embrace this fact. And, in seeing the movie (maybe SPOILERS here), I understand that I might get a different Zemo. That said, he was one of the most disappointing things about the film. Zemo, as a movie villain, resides somewhere between befuddling madness and absolute unintelligibility. There are SPOILERS here, so I’m going to hide this next section behind a “keep reading” section. Clicking on this will spoil the movie for you if you haven’t seen it. You’ve been warned. 

I really like comic books; specifically, the kind involving super-heroes. I didn’t get into them until I was well into adulthood, but I always appreciated the fantasy of someone putting on a costume and kicking the shit out of people who probably deserved it. This isn’t the first super-hero film I’ve reviewed, and it definitely won’t be the last, but this one means something to me: this was the first film set in Marvel’s Cinematic Universe that actually changed my mind about a character. 

A little backstory: while it would be impossible for me to make a bullseye-character-assessment on Ant-Man, I know that the character has existed for many years, and I know that there have been many variations. The most recognizable person to don the persona, however, would have to be Dr. Henry Pym. Henry ”Hank” Pym was a pragmatic scientist that discovered particles which were capable of altering the sizes of all kinds of things. Upon discovering how to shrink himself, he became trapped in an anthill and the experience stuck with him, It encouraged him to study ants and develop a helmet that allowed him to communicate with them - thus, “Ant-Man” was born. 

Of all the things a person can look cool doing, riding an ant is, without a doubt, at the bottom of that list. 

Hank is written as a brilliant scientist, and his pragmatics worked well in the Avengers environment that he existed in; he was a voice of reason. Hank, however well-meaning that he was, however, found himself in a number of situations that lost him sympathy points.

For example, Pym is directly responsible for the robotic nightmare that is Ultron.

“Ultron” is the terrifying franken-suit with the death grip on the other robotic skull. 

For those unfamiliar, “Ultron” is character within a cautionary tale that studies what happens when human beings create sentient machines. Ultron is a long-running, unkillable villain that has plagued Marvel’s multiverse for a number of decades. Dr. Pym developed him as a way to better the world, and based Ultron’s  A.I. on Pym’s own brainwaves. As an intelligence, however, Ultron evolved and began to see humanity as a plague; to create a perfect world, Ultron decides the only way is to eradicate humanity. Dr. Pym is directly responsible for this. Ultron is incredibly efficient at his prime directive; this is why he is a major Marvel villain. That’s a heavy thing to have on your conscience. Most readers might sympathize; “He had good intentions”, they might say. Pym’s actions and intentions showed him to be a decent fellow, despite the whole Ultron fiasco. This, however, would not prove to be Pym’s greatest sin. 

Instead, feast your eyes upon this panel - the one from which Dr. Pym has never been redeemed:

Somehow, I’m not convinced that hitting your wife is “the only way”. 

I’d never been much of a fan of the character, honestly - I thought his power set was a product of a much older time, and it never really captured my attention - but domestic violence tends to have an alienating effect on audiences, more so than almost anything else. Interestingly enough, this was actually a miscommunication between the writer and the artist, one that didn’t have time to be rectified before this issue went to the press. Still, the damage was done, and Marvel has been trying to redeem Pym ever since. 

I wrote Hank Pym off after that. I know that’s closed-minded, and I know that there’s a complexity to his character, but I honestly didn’t care. Until I saw this film. This film isn’t explicitly about Hank Pym, but he is most definitely a big part of it. The short synopsis: Hank (played by Michael Douglas) discovers the Pym particles (things that make you small), then hides away for a long time. A man named Scott Lang (played by Paul Rudd), fresh out of jail, winds up trying to steal some stuff from Dr. Pym, and gets recruited by him instead. Since Pym no longer resembles Douglas in his Gordon-Gekko days, he decides that the Lang needs to wear the costume and stop Pym’s ambitious employee, Darren Cross. Cross has been trying to recreate Pym’s work, and he’s got the crazy-from-trying-too-hard-bad-guy thing going on. There’s also some stuff in here regarding that chick from Lost, too (she's Pym’s daughter).I don’t know, she doesn’t really do anything, except for punching Paul Rudd in the face, which I imagine is the hardest thing to ever do because Paul Rudd is Paul Rudd (if you don’t understand that Paul Rudd seems like a great guy, then we don’t live in the same universe. In that case, welcome; but rule #1 in our universe is that Paul Rudd seems like a really great guy).

Would you punch this? No, you wouldn’t. Rule number 1. 

To the meat and potatoes!

PROS:

- There’s something special about the way this movie was written. 

Remember when I said that I had written Hank Pym off until this movie? Something happened on the way to finishing this thing that made me change my mind. I could applaud Michael Douglas for being the baddest-ass Michael Douglas this side of Falling Down, or I could credit the fact that Edgar Wright wrote part of this film (he helped with Scott Pilgrim vs. The World). I could even point to Paul Rudd simply being a part of this as a contributing factor to the way I feel about this movie (for clarity, that way is “good”), but the truth is, it’s kind of a mash-up. At the end of the day, as someone who writes, I want to say that the reason this movie kicks so much movie-ass is because it has fantastic writing. 

First, I like how this movie works not only as an origin for Lang, but one for Pym as well. Normally, there isn’t enough time in the day for me to complain about how shitty it is when movies show origins through 1-2 minute flashbacks, but this movie does it more effectively with Pym. The Stark (*rimshot*) contrast between Pym’s character in the present and his past character pretty easily explain why it is that he’s such a hardass, and I thought it painted him in a more sympathetic light. The foreshadowing here is a little heavy-handed, but it’s written in such a way that it makes you actually appreciate Pym’s character (rather than hating him). 

Second, they steered away from the whole “domestic violence thing”. This was done by keeping the Wasp largely out of the film. I am sure there are fanboys who couldn’t keep from wetting themselves with rage over this move, but I think it’s essential. Here’s a quick pro-and-con list inside a pro-and-con list that explains why:

Pro: 

* By keeping her appearance very short, the opportunity to invite the domestic violence comparison to comic-book Hank Pym is small. 

* Wasp’s powers are so lame that they are hardly worth mentioning.

* Her absence kept the focus on Pym, which I think was the idea of the movie. It’s called “Ant-Man”, not “Ant-Man and his incredibly lame wife-sidekick, the Bee. Wasp. Whatever.”

* Wasp’s absence paved the way for creating a sympathetic Pym, something Marvel has been trying to do for years.

Con:

* There’s a clear shortage of kick-ass female characters in the film. This is the only bummer I can think of when pondering “why leaving out the Wasp might have been a bad move”. 

It’s a pretty stacked list. 

Finally, outside of simple decisions IN the writing, look at some people who have writing credits on this film: 

- Edgar Wright (Scott Pilgrim vs. The World)

- Adam McKay (Step Brothers, Anchorman)

- Paul Rudd (Dreamboat. That’s not a movie, he’s just a dreamboat.)

What these three bring to the movie is a balance between humor and drama. The pacing is just right in this movie; at no point do I remember thinking, “Would you hurry this shit up and get to the point?” That’s important in a film. Also, the humor, but more on that in a second...

- The humor. 

Paul Rudd is funny. He’s been doing comedic acting for a long time. When they cast Paul Rudd as the main character in this film, I heard a lot of people express doubt about him playing such a serious character. You know how you fix that? YOU CHANGE THE FUCKING CHARACTER. At least, that’s what happened in this film, and the result was fantastic! The film struts (not walks, not skirts, but STRUTS) across the line between light-hearted, good-time humor and “I’m-taking-on-an-Avenger-and-some-crazy-guy-while-avoiding-my-parole-officer” serious action. I walked away from this experience thinking, “did I just see a comic-book action film, or another Judd Apatow movie?” As a fan of most Apatow films, I wasn’t disappointed in this question. 

I love that a lot of the movie’s humor came from taking your expectations about writing tropes and playing with them. For example, Michael Pena’s character in these scenes:

I think the idea was to take the trope (I think, in this case, it was showing these characters to be unorganized, semi-blundering criminals), and they mess with it by showing that Luis is cultured enough to go to wine tastings and art museums. I mean, when’s the last time you heard a hardened, career criminal use the word “delightful”? 

On the other side of the coin, they took a real straight-shooter like Michael Douglas and made him do things that also made me laugh. Douglas’ Pym, when paired with Rudd’s Lang creates a lot of opposite comedy mashup. Pym’s character is scrappy, and he wants to get shit done. This plays well against Lang’s “I-don’t-believe-this-is-real” sarcasm. Hilarity ensues. 

In summation, great casting choices, good acting, and better writing let the humor shine in this film. So you might wonder, “why does this matter?” Look at the other comic-book movies Marvel has made. Sure, some have light-hearted moments, and you may laugh occasionally, but humor is at the core of this film. The humor here is to remind audiences not to take everything so seriously. After all, at the end of the day, you’re seeing a movie about a dude who rides on the back of ants. What else can you do but laugh? 

Seriously, posting this twice was not an accident.

CONS:

- Romance. 

I always feel like a villain when I have to bring up romance as a con. It may not seem like it, but I actually do believe that romance can be done well in a movie. One of these days, I’ll review a movie that does romance in a way that makes sense to me, or doesn’t detract from the greater plot of the movie. Today, however, is not one of those days. Enter the chick from Lost, Evangeline Lily. This is the second movie I’ve reviewed with her in it, and this is the second time that a romantic subplot felt superfluous to me in a review. Here’s the thing: I’ll actually defend the move of putting her in the movie. She sets up for a different type of Wasp-character, which would be great because a) Marvel is severely lacking in the empowered-female department, and b) maybe she won’t be written as so whiny and petulant. I’m getting a bit off topic with that “defending a move” stuff, though. 

I dislike this romantic subplot for a number of reasons. First, I feel like it detracts from Lang’s biggest motivator, his daughter. At his core, Lang does what he does throughout the movie because he is trying to get back to his daughter. All of his motivation revolves around that concept. So when, after being punched in the face and given some of the most passive aggressive pep talks known to man (she’s a tough nut to crack), they suddenly get all touchy-feely-kissy for one another? I audibly roll my eyes (you can hear that shit). It feels so tacked on that I can’t be bothered to care. Instead, try this: make your movie two and a half hours long instead of two, and have the characters actually explore a relationship that doesn’t run on necessity! Their only real reason for spending time together is to train a derpy Lang into a force of nature (literally, he commands ants)! That does not, to me, a relationship make. But what the hell do I know? #singleladies

So, this was inevitable: those who know me know that this is one of my absolute favorite films of all time. Those who don’t have probably seen this movie anyway, and anyone left in the margin? Well, have I got a gift for you. 

This movie came out in the middle of my formative years, and I dismissed it. I dismissed it because, back then, unless your movie had Adam Sandler or Chris Farley in it, I just didn’t care. It was a very strange time in my life- but eventually, thanks to a buddy who refused to let me keep living without seeing this film, I discovered a classic. 

So, to preface this review, I need my audience to understand a couple of quick points:

* This is easily in my top 5 favorite movies of all time. It’s very important to me, and I have planned to review this for a long time- as such, it is with great care that I review/analyze this film. 

* I somehow finagled my way into writing this review for my L462 class at school, a class examining the rhetoric in popular culture. Because of this, this review will:

a) include an analysis section, along with the standard “pros v. cons” structure, and

b) focus on concepts related to the class. 

This is for a grade, so, bear with me. I thought this format would be awesome for analyzing this film. I’ll instead divide this into sections, then hit the pros and cons to finish ‘er up. 

Now, with no further ado, I will begin. Enjoy. 

THE PLOT:

Wow. The plot of this film is difficult to write about without spoiling major points of the film, so I will attach this obligatory *WARNING: SPOILERS* tag. 

In this film, the narrator, suffering insomnia, finds solace in support groups for terminal illnesses. Since the narrator is not actually afflicted by these illnesses, he becomes offended when he sees another “tourist”, a woman named Marla, attending these meetings. His problems return, but in his travels for work, he meets a strange man. Coincidentally, his apartment is destroyed, and the aforementioned man welcomes him into his home, where they develop a friendship. Together, they create “fight clubs”, where men can go to, for lack of better terms, feel like men. Eventually, these fight clubs transcend their original therapeutic purpose and become something bigger (and more sinister), with the narrator losing his control over them. Eventually, he discovers that he had been living a double life, with his “friend” actually being a repressed personality that his mind had created in order to deal with his life. The friend had been running the fight clubs while the narrator thought he was sleeping, and through these fight clubs, the friend had amassed an army bent on making the world hit “rock bottom”. To achieve this, the friend had set up bombs in places throughout the city in the buildings that store the world’s debt records; bombing them would erase those records, erasing the world’s debt. The narrator, unwilling to do the kind of harm necessary to make that happen, fights his personality and the film ends with the narrator convinces the personality that he had just committed suicide. The personality dies, but it turns out it was too late, the bombs go off, and the narrator watches from his vantage point. 

The Why: 

Before I continue, it’s important to me that I explain why I think this movie merits analysis. 

First, Fight Club was the first mind-fuck movie that I can remember seeing. The revelatory final act and ending gave me pause: “Wait, really?” I asked. “No way, was he not actually in that scene-?” It made me want to watch it over and over again, to catch anything I might have missed. Coupled with the subversive nature of the film (I was a teenager when I first saw it, after all, and if there’s anything most teens understand, it’s rebellion), it just made me more and more curious. 

What I found most interesting about this film (and what I continue to find interesting about it) is that it challenges a lot of prescribed ideas- the main character in the film has a secure, seemingly well-paying job, but he still can’t sleep at night. Additionally, he appears to have a split personality, though the movie remedies this by saying “people do it everyday” (Fight Club). It asks questions, questions like: “The character Tyler is metaphorical, but what is it that he is supposed to represent? Why is the movie concerned with a return to simplicity, or what is it saying about our nature that this otherwise well-balanced man creates another personality for himself? What happens when our society is no longer a slave to materialism anymore? What happens to us when we face our own mortality?” These types of questions are tough, in that some people are very averse to answering them. I always thought that was something special- something that merited a closer look. In hunting for material to use in this analysis/review, I found a quote that troubled me: 

“Some people still thought that this film was just an excuse for men to continuously punch each...” (KuriousKatz)

And that, I cannot abide. 

Now, I’d like to take a look at what some of this stuff actually means.

The Lenses: 

- Psychoanalytic 

Let me preface this by making a statement about myself: I am naive. I am incredibly thick-skulled, and meaning takes a great deal of time to reach me; longer than the time it takes to reach my peers. That said, I might be the last person on the train here, but I noticed that Fight Club has a serious tie to Sigmund Freud’s Psychoanalytic Theory of Personality. “Who is Sigmund Freud?” you might ask? Freud is a man from the early 1900′s who developed a theory about how our psyches work. He theorized that the psyche was split into three distinct elements: the Id, Ego, and the Super-ego. 

The Id is the part of us concerned with desire and unchecked; it’s unconscious and operates within us from birth. It acts independent of any other influence, and drives us to make the choices that bring us the must “immediate gratification of all needs, wants and desires” (Siegfried). R. Kelly, perhaps unknowingly, explains it in the first 12 seconds of this song: 

Go ahead. Listen to it ALL. Ain’t nothin’ wrong...

The Super-Ego, on the other hand, is governed by societal rules and other types of regulations. According to William Siegfried, “the Super-Ego aims for perfection.” For example, while a person’s Id tells them that it would be really awesome to punch a child and steal a lollipop (because lollipop), the Super-Ego reminds a person that society tends to frown upon such acts. The Super-Ego actively works against the Id, inhibiting a person, urging them to act only in a way that is “socially appropriate” (Siegfried). We get this all the time; for example, whenever a person has the need to eat, rather than leaping over the counter and stuffing the burger directly into their face, their Super-Ego tells them that society doesn’t really get psyched on that. 

Sometimes, the Super-Ego takes a vacation.   

Finally, both of the aforementioned parts are reconciled by the Ego, which combines the expression of desires (from the Id) and a socially acceptable way of expressing those desires (the Super-Ego) (Siegfried). The Ego is all about compromise. Look at the picture above; to go into a restaurant and order that many hot dogs, then scarf down on them without using your hands is a bit of a faux pas. Still, this woman yearns to eat a truckload of hot dogs; her Id is telling her so. So she compromises- instead of just committing treason against her Super-Ego, her Ego gives her a reconciliation: “Just enter a hot dog eating contest, dummy,” it might have said, “It’s socially acceptable to stuff hot dogs down your gullet there.” The Ego mostly combines the desires of the Id with the established rules defined in the Super-Ego to create socially acceptable desires. Wow!

The tie-in here is that these sections of the human psyche, I believe, are represented by characters in Fight Club. 

Consider this scene: 

On its own, the scene looks like a couple of buddies who have had a few too many drinks and decided to test their masculinity. Looking at their language, however, I discern that Tyler and the narrator are actually pieces of the human psyche- look at the dialogue:

Narrator: Well, what do you want me to do? You just want me to hit you?

Tyler Durden: C'mon, do me this one favor.

Narrator: Why?

Tyler Durden: Why? I don't know why; I don't know. Never been in a fight. You?

Narrator: No, but that's a good thing.

Tyler Durden: No, it is not. How much can you know about yourself, you've never been in a fight? I don't wanna die without any scars. So come on; hit me before I lose my nerve.

Narrator: This is crazy.

Tyler Durden: So go crazy. Let 'er rip.

Narrator: I don't know about this.

Tyler Durden: I don't either. Who gives a shit? No one's watching. What do you care?

Narrator: Whoa, wait, this is crazy. You want me to hit you?

Note that Tyler is being expressed as the one having wants, his dialogue revealing a desire to be hit? The narrator, conversely, shows apprehension about the whole idea, because of how he thinks society will view him (”No one’s watching”, Tyler assures him). Tyler represents the Id in this scene, begging the Narrator to cut loose and fulfill his desires (since, after all, he is Tyler). The Narrator is apprehensive because he represents the Super-Ego, which tells him that “this is crazy”, and that society frowns upon this sort of thing. This scene ends with the Id winning out- the Narrator hits Tyler (himself), and  “the movie goes on, and nobody in the audience has any idea” (Fight Club). 

Also,  consider this quick clip: 

This is from a scene in the movie in which the Narrator is explaining, hypothetically, what he would do to Marla, if only he were able. In his words: “She was a liar. She had no diseases at all... Marla: the big tourist. Her lie reflected my lie. Suddenly, I felt nothing. I couldn’t cry, so once again, I couldn’t sleep.”

This is a Super-Ego struggling with the idea that it knows it is breaking the rules. It had found reconciliation by going to support groups, but seeing Marla, a reflection of the fact that the Super-Ego was being tricked, caused the Narrator more trouble. 

Admittedly, while I was convinced that I could pin the Id and Super-Ego on Tyler and the Narrator respectively, I had a bit of trouble trying to figure out who best embodied the idea of the Ego. At first, I thought Marla worked- being the only other character receiving enough attention to merit the title. Marla, however, spends far too much time indulging her own desires and ignoring conventional rules to fill the role of the Ego; there’s not nearly enough compromise to make sense. After much consideration, I think I found a solution: the Narrator becomes the Ego; the analogue is transformative. In the beginning of the story, he best represents the Super-Ego, doing all of the things that a person molded by the rules of capitalist society (more on this part soon)  should (e.g. holds a job, has an apartment, buys stuff). The twist comes, and he realizes that Tyler (again, the Id) is a part of him. There’s a line of dialogue in the film that gave me pause and helped me make the connection:

Tyler Durden: “Hey, you created me. I didn't create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. Take some responsibility!” (Fight Club).

It made me realize that, since they are all the same person, then they all are pieces to the same complete human psyche. They all make one singular, whole character. This is evidenced by the reconciliation that the Narrator attempts to gain after the revelation that he is Tyler; he begins trying to cope with his needs while remaining within the confines of what society deems acceptable. 

“So what?” I can hear you asking yourself. Why create such a schizophrenic character? Tyler/the Narrator’s purpose, in so far as his split personality is concerned, is to highlight the struggles that we all face every single day. In addition to making a great plot twist, the idea of a character representing parts of the human psyche forces us to ask ourselves questions; things like, “What is right or wrong?” or “If I want to do it, why is it bad?” One of the things that I think the film specifically wanted to address was this idea that we, as humans, yearn for things constantly, but we’re suppressed in our ability to just do what we really want to. Society is stifling; our Super-Egos constantly remind us of what we can’t do rather than what we can. The human psyche move was subtextual to help us find the connection between the film and our desires in reality. It exists to give us pause- “Yeah, maybe I don’t want to die without any scars.” I think the deeper meaning here was to go out and experience things, do bad stuff; live. Listen to our Ids more, you know? Which reminds me, there was another lens I’d like to examine this film through, and this can be my segue into it.

- Marxist/Class

When this movie first came out, some friends of mine and I liked to quote it. So much of the dialogue in this movie was just so outlandish and stark in contrast to the stuff we heard actual human beings saying, that it demanded repetition. One such line that always stuck with me came from this scene:

“You’re not your fuckin’ khakis” has a very different meaning in New England. 

I remember laughing, hysterically: “You’re not your fuckin’ khakis” (Fight Club).  “Where or when would I ever get to hear Brad Pitt deliver such an absurd line again?” I wondered. What I failed to notice (to properly notice, I mean) were the many pro-socialist themes scattered throughout the movie. In my defense, I was a) 17 when I saw this film, and b) incredibly apathetic about anything with layered meaning. To me, at 17, I didn’t have time to investigate every little thing in a movie (or a book, or a conversation); I took it all at face value, and evaluated it that way. A movie, a book, a video game, even people: their value was all based upon how much fun or entertainment I could squeeze out of them without digging any deeper than the surface. Also in my defense, I also remember having a firm belief that I wouldn’t live past 30, and that the world was just a bunch of shiny, happy people holding hands. I’m glad to have been wrong on both accounts: I was an idiot.

Returning to the point I was trying to make, Fight Club is mired with class criticism, specifically critiquing American capitalism. That fact isn’t necessarily hidden; just refer to the first 30 seconds of this scene: 

“Working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need” is a quote not likely found in any of the training manuals at your place of employment. 

Anyone with a mild understanding of capitalism will see that Fight Club’s critique of it is anything but subtle. What is this film trying to tell us in regards to property? I think the film aims to persuade its audience of the fact that we could all be a little bit better off without the unnecessary pursuit of property. Tyler seems to be especially enamored with this idea of all of us becoming equal (which sounds like another type of system; hold that thought, though), telling us (using one of my favorite lines in the movie):  “The things you own end up owning you” (Fight Club).

This idea, that the pursuit of property will eclipse humanity’s desire for almost anything else, is a poignant one; imagine how much worse things have become since the movie’s creator suggested it? That’s a question for another day, I suppose. 

One way in which the movie proves its point- that pecuniary pursuits are lacking in purpose- is by showing the success of casting off such things. Fight Club is about forgetting those things, and living in the moment. Fight Club is the Narrator’s salvation. For example, examine the Narrator: before starting Fight Club, he is unhappy. He has a bit of money, job security, though he still can’t sleep. He tries support groups, finding temporary solace, but Marla changes that, and he returns to a state of unfulfillment. Examine, through his monologue, how he talks about Fight Club after its creation: 

“After Fight Club, everything else in your life gets the volume turned down. You can deal with anything.”

and “We all started seeing things differently.”

and 

“Fight club wasn't about winning or losing. It wasn't about words.”

and finally, 

“Afterwards, we all felt saved.” (Fight Club)

These aren’t the words of someone who is “in pain”; this is a man elated. 

Another one of the things I thought was interesting, though a bit more veiled, was one way in which I found Project Mayhem to be metaphorical. While watching this to find more rhetoric, I noticed that not only is the movie pretty anti-capitalist, it actually praises socialism as an alternative. 

It’s probably not what Marx had in mind, but even he would have to admit: it has a certain panache to it.  

It’s not a perfect metaphor, but I’ll use some of the principles from the American Socialist Party’s website and match them with things from the movie: 

“Freedom & Equality: Democratic socialism is a political and economic system with freedom and equality for all, so that people may develop to their fullest potential in harmony with others” (Socialist).

The members of Project Mayhem are not even given names. They are all vetted through the same selection process, taking all kinds of people. Project Mayhem isn’t a paying job; it’s a commune. Which brings me to the next point...

“Production for use, not for profit:  In a socialist system the people own and control the means of production and distribution... the primary goal of economic activity is to provide the necessities of life, including food, shelter...” (Socialist).  

Oh, you mean similar to the way that Project Mayhem applicants all come to live in the house on Paper Street, farm the backyard, and make soap that’s sold to further Project Mayhem? Commune style! How about: 

“People across the world need to cast off the systems which oppress them, and build a new world fit for all humanity” (Socialist). 

I think that erasing the world’s credit card debt is one way to “cast off the systems which oppress them” (Socialist).

So what makes Fight Club’s socialism so much better? A blog I was reading sums it up pretty well: “A person’s social class has become so relevant that it now has the ability to define a person’s self-worth... physical possessions can not be a replacement for self-fulfillment... it would only be a temporary feeling of self-worth, whereas the improvement of body and mind can go a long way ” (KuriousKatz). Tyler’s way glorifies a type of socialism through its success. Even though the *MEGA SPOILER HERE* movie ended with Tyler being killed, the credit records were still erased. Tyler’s dream lives on. That’s success if I’ve ever seen it. 

‘Success’. 

PROS:

- Humor. This movie is just full of it: irony, juxtaposition, whatever. It’s all over the place. One of my favorite parts has to do with Tyler and his odd jobs: 

“Why would anyone want this shit job?”

And this is just a sampling. The movie takes great care to, just when things seem too dire or serious, toss you a joke to lighten your spirits. When Chloe is dying of cancer, you don’t cry for her; instead, you feel deeply, hilariously uncomfortable at her distorted mention of pornographic movies and lubricants. 

Additionally, this movie has some of the oddest background music in it, as evidenced through the DVD menu screen:  

I once mistakenly left said DVD on and fell asleep, only to be woken in the middle of the night by the industrial (is that what it’s called? I’m guessing) hell of that menu, screaming into my ear. It’s quirky, but not in the way that people call Zooey Deschannel “quirky”; I find Fight Club’s music to be far more tolerable, and infinitely more genuine, more often than not adding to the tone of the film. 

It’s amazing to me that this is all the more surprised she can look, despite still getting a paycheck for being typecast her entire life: “Whoa, another quirky-girl-role? No waaaay!” 

Anyway, I think the movie has a great balance of message and humor. Really top notch. 

- An interesting take on mortality. 

Watch this. I’ll wait: 

Takeaways: 

1. “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything” = real solace. 

2. What an interesting question: “Our fathers were our models for god; if our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about god? ...in all probability, he hates you.” 

3. “First you have to know, not fear, know, that someday, you’re gonna die.” An eventuality we would all be better prepared for if we gave it any real thought beforehand (Fight Club).

Before this movie, as a young boy attending Catholic school at St. Mary’s in southern Indiana, I would spend my nights awake in my bed. The lights were off, my parents were asleep, and there was no sound in the house to distract me from my thoughts. All I had were those thoughts, and since that was the closest thing I could imagine to oblivion, I began to try to compare the two: “is this what happens when I die? Will purgatory be like this? I’m almost certainly not going to heaven. I don’t know if I can do this.” I was terrified of the idea of spending any great amount of time, conscious, in conditions like that. I used to think, “What kind of benevolent God would allow such a thing?” This isn’t some atheistic confession, but, honestly, Fight Club changed my perspective. Realizing that, if god exists, it’s true: it may hate me, but my life is still going to happen. I’m still in control of it, and I still have to deal with all of the accouterments that go with. Now, as far as my sleep is concerned? “Babies don’t sleep this well.” Thanks, Mr. Palahniuk! 

CONS: 

- Ha! Fooled you. There are none. Ok, to be objective, this movie is a bit long, and the beginning is paced pretty slowly, but I refuse to call that a pitfall. That doesn’t deter it from being my favorite. Actually, there is one thing that I’m not upset about, but that others may find upsetting: this movie is profane. From the violence to the nudity, along with the colorful language and subversive suggestions, it’s definitely not run of the mill. The thing is, you can’t have this movie without all of it; it’s all incredibly essential. I apologize if you are offended by this movie, but to pass on this film for those reasons should be a crime. 

In the spirit of reviewing another remake/reboot/re-whatever film, I recently saw the newest Fantastic Four film. Most audiences will recognize these guys as Marvel’s oldest superhero team, having been created back in 1961. The team consists of four super-powered humans: Mr. Fantastic, who can stretch and... stuff (also: genius level IQ), The Invisible Woman, who can make herself and her surroundings invisible, as well as create hard light, and- let’s just say she can do a lot of stuff with light, her brother, the Human Torch, who can light himself on fire, and finally, the Thing, who is a giant, semi-hideous rock. A rock with muscles. 

The plot is, well- convoluted, to say the least. I think that it starts with teleportation technology and ends with superpowers. That’s about the gist of it. Seriously, not much actually happens in between those two things. Yes, some people die, and yes, they save the world- but how the movie arrives at that is with little or no explanation. Characters seem to wear traits like condoms; to be used once and discarded. Motivations are seldom explored, and audiences are left scratching their heads. 

Now, it’s no secret that this movie was lambasted by critics, and I completely understand why. At its best, the movie reads like a put-off homework  assignment- the beginning is fairly well done, attention to detail is paid, but as the movie progresses, you get the feeling that its creators kept telling themselves that they had plenty of time, further deluding themselves with a false sense of confidence: “Look at what we’ve already made!”, they might have said, followed by “We have plenty of time; don’t worry!” Then, appropriately (I really wanted to use this picture)- time ran out. 

When this memo started circulating around the office, everyone began to panic. 

At its worst it is ...itself. It’s difficult to describe what it is that makes the movie such a turd, considering its whopping 8% rating on rotten tomatoes. Comparatively speaking, Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 has a 6%, and that movie didn’t have the advantage of being a Marvel property. BUT (and maybe it’s my slavish devotion to doing things other people aren’t doing) I truly believe there are actual merits to this film- there are things that, after viewing, I actually liked. Without further ado, here are the meat and potatoes:

Har har. Get it?

PROS: 

- It’s adapted from the Ultimate Universe (1610) version of the Fantastic Four. This seemingly innocuous detail actually has me really excited. If this film, by some miracle, gets a sequel, with a competent writer who appreciates character dynamicity, then this series can be redeemed. I say this because, having read the entire Ultimate Fantastic Four run (including events and tie-ins), there is incredible source material for the movies. I will admonish that this is wishful thinking- Ultimate Reed Richards is one of my favorite comic characters of all time. His time in the comics sees him range from altruistic generi-hero to megalomaniacal bringer of genocide, and here’s the kicker: HIS TRANSFORMATION ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE. 

This is not your grandpa’s Reed Richards.

Anyway, the upside is that, again, with some vision, this movie has laid the foundation for my favorite incarnation of an otherwise boring hero. Council of Reeds. Please, if there is a sequel: give me a council of Reeds. Moving on. 

- Having a Human Torch that deviates from the original is not only well done, it’s actually a diamond in this otherwise incredibly unpolished movie. I heard so much bullshit in the months since the first trailer for this film was shown- “How can the human torch be BLACK??! Are they crazy?!” It’s as though the people upset by this think that a) all comic book films should be direct translations of their print counterparts, and b) this country is somehow devoid of people from African descent. As it turns out, his character is actually more charming than past versions; so much so that I think this may actually be my favorite version. 

Don’t get me wrong- There’s still nothing that the Human Torch does that redeems this sorry film. He is given motivation (although that motivation is to fix a car, I shit you not), and he seems to have actual feelings (aside from the ones telling him to burn like a star every fifteen goddamn minutes). And-

Wait, you know what? When I started this review, I thought that I would focus on the redeeming qualities of this film. I thought, “Yeah, I’ll deviate from what most critics are doing. Instead of taking a giant dump on this movie, I’ll herald the things it does correctly!” But it doesn’t do much correctly. In fact, it’s all based on luck and guesswork. Sure, being based off of an awesome series of comics is good- but only if it utilizes that source material (which it does not). And having a black actor in a traditionally white role is awesome- except that now, dumber audiences will associate the black human torch with one of the worst comic book movies ever. What a crock of shit. I’m through being optimistic here: time for the

Maybe you thought I was going to say “cons”, eh? 

CONS:

- Cutting fucking corners. You know what has become a cultural phenomenon in recent years? Comic book films. Specifically, Marvel properties. It seems like every time one comes out, I hear about it setting some box office record, and I know that these movies are just crushing it because  when I go on opening night, the crowds are intensely thick and full of people that would have made fun of comic books when I was a kid. I think these movies have hit a singularity where innovation has reached an infinitely negative value, with consumers’ dollars being the proverbial center of the black hole. It seems that Marvel has opted to keep making at least moderately entertaining films from their properties, but money-hungry studios like Fox and Sony (who retain rights to these films as long as they are using them) know that they can keep churning this shit out regardless of quality. Here, I’ve crafted a helpful guide to show you:

To further my point, there were two Fantastic Four films prior to the one I am reviewing today. They failed spectacularly, but did that keep Fox from rebooting? No. And the very idea of a reboot gave Fantastic Four fans hope- maybe they’ve fixed it this time, or maybe they won’t fuck it up too bad, fans might think. But that’s the thing: again, studios know (because of my helpful graphic) that, regardless of quality, they can just pump out comic properties because, bad or good, people will go see them. It is free profit.

Now, the cutting corners portion: I mentioned previously that it felt like a homework assignment that you start early and forget about. Well, let me use Ben Grimm as an example. With characters like Ben Grimm, it should be incredibly easy to have audiences sympathize with him: he got the short end of the stick as far as mutation goes inside the Fantastic Four- everyone else could still look human, while Ben is essentially a giant boulder. Losing your looks- who isn’t just a little scared of that? And, with a little explanation and some exposition, this could have been achieved-but, through the miracle of mangling, Ben manages to be pretty two-dimensional, and a little erratic. It’s bizarre- he goes between being Reed’s friend, then hating him, and closing the door on that hate almost as soon as it begins, inexplicably. What the fuck? There are tons of examples of this throughout the film, but in the spirit of not spoiling this and, truthfully, because of the dreadful boredom talking about it induces, I’ll move on to the next point. 

- How do you fuck up Dr. Doom? I’ve never thought of Doom as being a character that you could easily ruin, since he is comprised of equal parts sorcerer, scientist, and megalomaniac. Seems like a pretty basic recipe: you cast some spells, you say some intensely smart science-y stuff, and you refer to yourself in the 3rd person: how hard could that be? 

Seems like a lot of fun, if you ask me. I wonder how much money I’d have to save to buy a country in Eastern Europe...?

This film’s intended direction for doom is due nowhere. Like an indecisive teenager, the writers couldn’t decide whether Doom should be friend, for, or the far less effective somewhere-in-between. Unfortunately, that’s where he resides, until he (without real explanation) begins murdering people with poorly fleshed out powers that have something to do with popping people like zits. Admittedly, it was cool to see Doom murdering things, but without real justification, it just wasn’t that satisfying. I could not have been more- oh, what’s the word...? 

Yeah! That’s it. 

Anyway, this movie is a turd. Don’t go see it- I don’t want to talk to you about it, I don’t want to think about it, and I’m BARELY ok with me talking about being a matter of public record. Even as far as watching it to make fun of is concerned, it’s just not that good. It’s almost as though the movie has gained self-awareness, midway through, of how bad it is. Just avoid it. At all costs. Run. 

So, I recently went to see the new movie titled Vacation on the strength of the trailer. First, this is NOT to be confused with the movie I am reviewing in this space. Second, I am the Dr. Doom to the modern movie trailer’s Reed Richards- I abhor them, they are beneath me, and they are completely detrimental to what I believe is good for this world. 

And by “countries,” I mean “movie trailers.” So I can throw them into the sea. None may lay hands on Doom!

So, inevitably, I was let down (with 2015′s Vacation)- I tried to walk out of the theater (an act I have only done twice before), only to be let down a second time by the fact that it was the last show playing. Since Doom does not make mistakes, I walked back in and claimed a new seat in my name, and continued watching. Spoiler alert: it was pretty fucking godawful. 

HOWEVER, that pile of dogshit that people are calling a movie inspired me to go home and rinse its awful taste from my mouth by watching the original Vacation film, and that’s why I’m going to review it now. 

For those who don’t know about it (among you, I count myself), National Lampoon was, according to Dr. Internet, a popular comedy magazine (for those of us who are old enough to remember, think MAD Magazine- for the newer generation, think... about fixing your generation, because you have no equivalent). Somehow, this magazine collaborated with someone (my research wasn’t exactly extensive) and somehow (magic), a movie was made. 

Vacation is a movie about the Griswolds, a stereotypical American family living in our Midwest during the 1980′s. Said family, without much backstory, is led by the father, “Sparky” (aka Clark) on one of humanity’s oldest quests: the family’s summer vacation. A bunch of stuff goes wrong, hilarity ensues, and sequels happened. If you haven’t seen it after 31 years of being available, you probably won’t, but I still refuse to spoil it, as it sets up a METRIC FUCKING TON of writing tropes that you will see used from here to eternity in movies. So, you know, maybe you could check it out? 

Just kidding; God-King-Doom demands you see it. 

Without further ado, I present my pros and cons:

PROS:

- No.Stal.Gia. So, I will freely admit that I did not see this movie growing up. Instead, I waited well into my adulthood to watch it. Sure, I’d catch bits and pieces on cable, but never had I ever completely experienced this particular National Lampoon experience. Truthfully, I don’t know if it was for better or worse, but I can say, with absolute certainty, that if you grew up in my generation, this movie will make you feel things about your upbringing. The feeling of nostalgia I got watching this was unique in that it didn’t come from my prior experience of watching the film, it came from remembering all of those (seemingly) awful summer vacations I took with my parents and all of the near-nervous-breakdowns I watched them suffer while I tried to keep myself entertained. The writer(s) behind this particular movie, I theorize, had suffered long, terrible, probably yearly vacations with their parents, and this was their love-letter to the world. I think it’s timeless. I know there are still people out there, trekking across the country in search of their own “walley world,” and it’s a trend that fewer and fewer people are following, but it’s an important one regardless. The way I see it, memories, good or bad, are important to have, and these trips create them. Watching this movie helped me remember, fondly, a number of vacations I went on as a kid.

To showcase the effect that nostalgia has on memory, one such vacation I remember involved my best friend and I going to Six Flags in- Chicago? It was probably Chicago. I know we went to an amusement park, but that might have been the least memorable part of it. I can remember thinking, “Why are we going to Six Flags? I have been here. Cedar point is just as far, and I’ve never been there.” The whole time, my friend was making comparisons, which were lost on me because I had nothing to compare the vacation to, but, en route to Six Flags, my family stopped and I was able to purchase this:

None may lay hands on Powers (except, you know, me). 

This is, what my mother quickly identified as, a talking Austin Powers keychain accessory. It has four buttons, each with a catchphrase. I was in 8th grade when I purchased this. Imagine the psychological torture my parents endured. Here’s an example:

The film was NOT known for its subtlety. 

What I definitely remember about this trip is that I got barely any sleep the night before the amusement park because my friend and I could not stop giggling at all hours of the night thanks to my disembodied talking Austin Powers head. I got grounded and had a generally bad time (being under constant scrutiny and having my Austin Powers head taken from me will do that), but I look back on that trip now and it makes me smile. I have digressed, but here is my point: National Lampoon’s Vacation will evoke that response, which earns it a pro in my book. 

- Trimming the fat. I really enjoyed how this movie doesn’t do much more than it has to. Usually, I complain when a movie is less than two hours long because, for the $8.50 I have to spend on it, I really want some bang for my increasingly worthless buck. The original Vacation, however, clocks out at a scant 98 minutes (of which, you can assume, 8 are probably devoted solely to the credits). This is normally enough to make me sit in my underwear and pout about how I deserve more movie, but it actually takes a different approach to telling its story.

Rather than spend the first half of the movie introducing characters and developing them (a practice not always necessary for a film, and even less practical in the genre of comedy), Vacation just sort of plops you in and lets a bunch of jokes handle the exposition. You gain enough in that hour and a half to know that these characters are all pretty relatable (unless, of course, you count yourself among the wealthy, upper class of society- in which case, what has brought you down to my level? I assure you, the grass is no greener over here), and the film gets its point across: I mean, how many sequels spawned after this? (Answer: 3 true sequels starring a similar cast, and 1 bizarre sequel/remake that, again, totally sucked) To me, this is a refreshing departure from the typical, modern comedy film that beats around the bush with dick and fart jokes for 60% of the film, then slops its meat and potatoes into your lap and tells you to like it. 

Based on a true story. 

Instead, it’s a casual little romp in the nostalgia patch; the jokes are pretty good, you see Beverly D’Angelo’s boobs (which, I forgot to mention earlier: this movie is rated R, for “Rrrrawesome! Beverly D’Angelo’s boobs!”), and it evokes some seriously feelings that took me into my past. 

But, like most things, there is another side to the coin- that being the

CONS:

- Aunt Edna. What a waste. One of the few times the movie elects to treat your time as an infinitely renewable resource- Aunt Edna is the joke that keeps on giving, well after you are full. Sure, she evokes a little bit of the nostalgia mentioned above, but the plausibility of her just getting in the car and riding with the Griswolds cross country? It just isn’t there. Aunt Edna, as a whole, felt like a piece of scotch tape slapped on to a broken bone that someone still expects to heal. It’s a joke that just didn’t work. 

Look at her; even Edna is tired of being Edna.

- Christie Brinkley vs. Beverly D’Angelo. Ok, I admit- this is a hormone-fueled gripe about how hot each actress is, with maybe a little bit of “she-should-win” sprinkled in, but a) it’s my blog; when you get older, maybe you can write your own, and b) it’s still my blog and I never wanted to have to make a choice between them. I’ll get my pick out of the way from the start: it’s Beverly. Clark’s smokin’-hot wife is not only attractive, naked, and sarcastic- she seems like a pretty cool mom. I mean *spoiler alert for a movie older than you are*, she is totally on board with Clark holding John Candy hostage and riding roller coasters. That is what you might call a “ride-or-die.” What does Christie Brinkley even offer? Outside of a newer pair of boobs, not much. She is a gigantic tease with a nice car who is totally fine with Clark cheating on his wife. What kind of person does that? I’ll tell you what kind: the worst kind. I mean, don’t get me wrong, ladies: I acknowledge fully that Clark sucks for even considering it, but as an outsider, I feel like it’s TOTALLY ok for me to compare the two. And, again, I choose Beverly. Here, enjoy:

“Damn, gurl- ‘chu doin’? ‘Chu lookin’ all wholesome for? Lemme holla atchu.”

Anyway, in summation, this movie is pretty rad. It’s not the best comedy. It’s not really the best at anything, but, truthfully, neither am I- I have more participation trophies than there are stars in the sky (author’s note: that’s 4). There are plenty of reasons to like it, and not a lot of reasons not to. So watch it, if you haven’t. Or watch it again, whatever- the movie spawned this incredibly shallow, yet incredibly catchy tune: I’m pretty confident you’ll like it, either way.

Pachycephalosaurus. This is the first and last dinosaur name I can recall, from a childhood spent obsessing over our extinct roommates on apartment Earth. This was a dinosaur whose main form of defense was headbutting things: animals, cavemen, even other dinosaurs. Imagine my pre-pubescent delight when I learned that there was going to be a movie in which dinosaurs roam our planet again AND earn their keep- I was fucking STOKED.

Because if the last eviction notice didn’t work, I don’t know what will. 

In anticipation, I found the book and read it for my “Book It” program. For younger blog readers, or people unfamiliar with good things happening in the public school system, Book It was a system in which children would read a book, give a short report to their teacher, and, in exchange, the student would be given a gold star sticker. Collect enough stickers, and you receive a FUCKING PERSONAL PAN PIZZA. For those of us who weren’t from affluent backgrounds, this is the poor kid equivalent of kobe beef, or sprinkling gold flakes onto the most expensive meal you’ve ever had. It was a pretty big deal. 

Well, maybe “big” isn’t the most appropriate word, but it was still my holy grail.

I flubbed my way through a lot of these reviews for free pizza, but this book, in the third grade, was the first one I ever read through. It was incredibly inefficient, in my quest to obtain baby pizzas, but I loved that shit. That book was great on a lot of levels, some of which I wasn’t aware of then, but it set some pretty high expectations. 

Here we are, 22 years later, and I’m anticipating seeing the new Jurassic World film, and I thought, “maybe it’s time to review the first one- you know, see how well it aged.” How well, indeed. 

Pros: 

- Animatronics and tangible special effects. I know that the new movie will have a lot of CGI, and I know that has become the industry standard. I don’t so much care, but I tell you this: not seeing highlighted portions of the screen during the film because the special effect isn’t created by a computer is a liberating, engrossing feeling. This movie has a little; back in ‘93, if I recall, computer generated graphics were starting to take off, so there are (bad) sequences in which a dinosaur is introduced, and children are supposed to be awestruck, while the more seasoned among us just wait patiently for the real SFX. I mean, seriously, the difference is night and day. 

Seriously.

Alright, so, admittedly, those might not be from the same movie. They might not even be a historically accurate dinosaur, as I understand it. Either way, the tangible dinosaur models lend ultimate credibility to this film. Why? Because they can actually eat you, which, it turns out, is pretty effective at creating suspense. So that’s pretty cool. 

- The science fiction behind this is important for a couple of reasons. I remember, both in the book and briefly in the film, that the science seemed so plausible. Mosquitoes in amber? Yeah, duh! It only makes sense that after god knows how many years of existence, we finally found a use for mosquitoes. On one hand, cloning dinosaurs is impossible (because, obviously, if we could, we would be hanging out with them now). It turns out that DNA has a half-life of a little over 500 years, making it difficult to sequence and blah blah blah. On the other hand, this film a) bolstered interest in dinosaurs, b) changed people’s perceptions about said dinosaurs, and c) helped further DNA research. That last one, I know, is a stretch, but I’m convinced that this stuff drives interest. I mean, look at H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds; it was released as a radio special in October of 1938, interestingly executed in a style reminiscent of the actual news at the time. In fact, it cause massive panic because PEOPLE THOUGHT THAT SHIT WAS GOING DOWN. Here, check it out. 

I would love to talk more about this broadcast, because I think the topic is infinitely interesting as a didactic tool for a society that was so unquestioning that they believed this alien invasion was happening, but here’s the point I was driving towards: a mere 20 years later, America shot people into space. This was due, in no small part, to Dr. Robert H. Goddard, who admitted that War of the Worlds “spurred his interest in planetary discovery... and filled [him] with a sense of purpose.” Science fiction has the power to inspire science FACT. And the science in Jurassic Park must have done something right, because we are getting another sequel 20 years later. 

Ah, but nothing good is without its flaws...

Cons:

- For a movie about the danger of trying to play god, the destructive force of their creation is surprisingly small. By the end of the movie, you might think to yourself, “Woo! That was close. Glad they made it off the island!” and maybe “Everything is awesome now! Back to normal; business as usual!” Now, I know there are sequels, and maybe some day I’ll review those, but the question I found myself asking at the end was this: if the raptors are capable of learning (as demonstrated by the fact that they figured out how to open doors, which is a pretty big leap for an animal that works on pure instinct), could they not learn how to swim? I mean, really, all that separates them from the world at large is water. And that’s just the velociraptors. Imagine what some of the bigger dinosaurs are capable of? I mean, their lungs are like giant buoys. I mean, I get it- the island is ruined, and tons of money was wasted (though, arguably, you could say it was well spent, since, you know, the rich dude survived), but what did the dinosaurs do besides kill a handful of people? This is due, for the most part, to its PG-13 rating. The fucking MPAA: ruining shit for the entirety of their existence. 

Nothing subliminal here. 

- I’m really, really pissed that Samuel L. Jackson got so little screen time. Look, I don’t want to be that guy- Sam Jackson is pretty much universally beloved, and by the time he was cast in this movie, he was not quite the household name he is today. That said, he is a perfect addition to almost everything he gets added to. Quick, name three movies he was in that he sucked in. Go on, I’ll wait... oh, you can’t? It’s because he shines in everything. Jurassic Park is no exception, but what the hell happened? One minute, he is a cranky, chain smoking park manager with a serious disdain for Newman, and the next he’s just... an arm? That’s an awfully long distance between A and B. So what happened? PG-13 happened. In the book, there’s a lot more work on Jackson’s part trying to get the park back up and running; more chain smoking, more cranky, more loud complaining- more stuff Jackson was created to do. I totally get that he was a prime candidate to be murdered by dinosaurs operating on instinct, but I’d have liked to see him put up a fight, or at least hear a one-liner before he went. 

Since he, you know, seems to excel at them. 

Not that you could possibly miss it, but I’d like you to take a moment and look at this movie poster. I know what you see, but let me make sure you don’t miss the most pertinent stuff: this is a photo includes a ninja with both a sword AND a gun, tons of shell casings, muscles, the Eiffel Tower in ruins, and general badassitude. Better yet, you know what it doesn’t contain? Any living French people. I’m assuming because this guy murdered them all single handedly as the complained about the social faux pas of wearing all black on such a hot day. Do you think that ninja gave a shit about wearing all black? If you answered “yes”, then congrats, because ninjas have to. If you answered “no”, then you’re a giant baby, and you need to go here to reeducate yourself. 

I’m getting off topic, aren’t I? Let me rewind a little bit. First, let me say, for those of you who have patiently waited for another review: THANKS! I know how rough it can be waiting for something you really, really want. And, if you were one of the people who voted on my facebook for the movie American Psycho, then you are probably wondering: “Gee, what gives?” Well, I’ll tell you: I just couldn’t do it. I tried. I sat down, I popped some popcorn, and I tried to mentally prepare myself- but I just couldn’t review it. I just couldn’t. If that’s a letdown, then let me offer my sincerest apology. From the bottom of my heart: I’m sorry. 

Now, if you’re done being all heart broken, let me offer you something else in exchange: an unreasonably good movie (review). G.I. Joe, for the younger crowd, was a toy line from Hasbro. These days, most people seem only to worry about the value of toys, but way back when, people actually used to play with them. It might have looked like this: 

Kids used to rock the shit out of their homes with these toys, using their imaginations. It was a different time; they even used to make PSAs utilizing these characters because kids at the time  actually listened to characters like this. I would, too (again, see the first picture in this review). 

This is, without a doubt, the most important of those P.S.As. 

I may have waxed too nostalgic. Jumping back on track, this movie follows the exploits of Channing Tatum’s Duke and one of the Wayans brothers as Rip Cord, as they discover the mega-badass G.I. Joe corp of the American (?) military. Something something something, explosions, swords, rivalry, etc. LOOK, A LOT OF COOL STUFF HAPPENS. You’re just going to need to take my word for it. 

Pros: 

- Snake. Eyes. Holy shit- I can’t even imagine what the brainstorming session to create this character was like. Imagine if you took every single thing that pre-teen dudes thought was awesome in the 80′s (things like ninjas, swords, big guns, future tech, action heroes, and martial arts, for example), and then punched them into one awesome package. If you were to do that, then you would have the character Snake Eyes. In addition to having all the things I mentioned previously, Snake Eyes doesn’t even fucking speak. Silence is golden, after all. 

Just when you thought this idea couldn’t get any cooler, it does: Snake Eyes has a rivalry with another ninja, a character named Storm Shadow. He wears all white. Flipping the binary? That’s the shit I’m talking about: two ninjas with a mega rivalry is my idea of a good time. 

- This movie is ambitious. Alright, I’ll try to do with with as few spoilers as I can, even though this movie is six years old now. First, in gives a little bit of origin on a multitude of characters; their past, their motivations- there’s a lot of exposition, much of which is done through the lens of the fight scene. People are pretty much constantly fighting in this movie, which definitely gains my seal of approval. In addition, it runs in a lot of different directions- usually, I scoff or dismiss these kinds of ideas as banal and irresponsible. G.I. Joe weirdly skirts the line, leaning towards “awesome” rather than “awful”. I think the reason it does this so effectively is because the movie doesn’t give too much away with each side story: it does enough to pique your curiosity, then leave you hungry for more. Additionally, they actually make the danger/threat of the movie something worth being scared for. And people die! This movie has got a serious body count, which is refreshing when compared to today’s ultra-nerfed action films. It’s actually kind of surprising for a movie like this. It’s enough to make your head spin...

Like pretty much every movie, however, this one is far from flawless. Actually, it might be a terrible movie, but even terrible movies can be incredibly entertaining. Let’s look at some of the things it does wrong. 

Cons:

- CGI/Acting. This one had to be a two-fer. I couldn’t only complain about the CGI, because, truth is, there is no way they could make this movie without it. Some of it is passable- most of it is not. I, personally, couldn’t care less in most cases because ninjas are fighting somewhere, and I’m pretty much always on the lookout for that. That said, the CGI in this mostly sucks.

Coincidentally, so does the acting. My god, if each actor pledged to give a single American dollar to charity every time they spewed a one-liner, then the world would be rid of almost every malady near the 40 minute mark in this film. The irony here is that, at least in the case of Rip Cord, most lines fall so short of their mark that you wonder how they ever passed the quality assurance tests done by audienc- actually, scratch that. I know how: they showed them the ninjas. Ninjas, by nature, just make everything better. 

I mean, am I wrong? 

- There’s another stupid romantic subplot. In a move that has just been done to death, you have to wonder how Hollywood manages, yet again, to include romance into a movie with ninjas and danger. I whine about this too much, I’m afraid, and I’ll probably just be beating a dead horse by writing another entry about it, but really: how many times does the hero of a movie need to be motivated by romance? It’s just a little silly to me- shouldn’t they be motivated by, say, survival instinct? Isn’t there some part of him/her telling themselves “I really want to live. Yep, that’ll do it”? Of course not, because stupid audiences love seeing the ultra cliched kiss at the end. Blah blah blah, whatever- it’s just so overdone. I seriously couldn’t give a shit less about it. 

Judge Judy couldn’t give a shit, either. 

High Anxiety. That’s why I didn’t watch scary movies when I was a kid. That’s probably why I don’t watch them now. It started when my uncle rented a movie (remember when people did that? Probably not, but if you’re in the dark here, let me explain).

Before speedy internet and streaming movies, us midwestern folk had to watch our movies on good ol’ fashioned VHS tapes. As with music, there was an inherent risk in just purchasing movies outright, so there were a bunch of stores that shouldered the risk and allowed you to rent the movies instead, usually for a modest cost. 

Ring any bells? 

So my uncle, one day, he brings over a movie from the rental place, and he says “Hey! this one is science fiction. Maybe you’ll like it! It’s got aliens in it.” He misspoke; the movie had one alien in it, and it was fucking terrifying- that movie was Alien (foreshadowing?). I was 7 years old, and I didn’t sleep for weeks. And that’s not even a horror film (spoiler alert: the main theme of that film is “space rape”). 

This began my extreme distaste for scary, startling things. So when I was asked recently to review a horror film, my initial reaction was no, but I’ve been trying to live a little here lately, so I’m reviewing Scream. 

This movie is about murders. And teenagers. I think the filmmaker’s goal was to try and recapture the feeling of the murder/horror films of the 1980′s: films like Halloween (which is mentioned in the film), Nightmare on Elm Street (also mentioned), and Friday the 13th (which is, of course, mentioned in the film, too). Cool; imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I can dig that. Let’s see how it fairs. 

Pros:

- Even the characters in this movie are skeptical about the film. Someone took great care to make sure not to follow too many cliches, while at the same time, following ones that characters go to great lengths to identify as stupid. It’s paradoxical, but it kind of makes the movie interesting- like how a savant can move between hyper-intelligence and total lack thereof. 

It’s like she’s reviewing her own film. 

Characters constantly second guess their own ideas based on what they know about horror films that exist in our universe, which is a nice take on intertextuality. I can appreciate that. 

- The “villain” is a superhuman murder machine. This is kinda like that time I reviewed The Terminator and got SUPER fucking pumped about how cool of a villain the machine was. This villain is a mere human, but the idea is still the same; nothing stops them. I believe the villain had their nose broken no less than 3 times during the course of this film. In addition, they suffer massive kicks to the groin. He’s a teaser, just for kicks. 

For your money, though, the sound effects in this video are better.

The sheer punishment this person endures, all for the sake of murder, is awe-inspiring. Bravo. 

And now, the

Cons: 

- The film wants you to know that it’s not your average horror movie. Except that it is. Or, at least, that’s the feeling I get through all the horror films that lend to the formula Scream follows. It tries so hard to be any other film than the ones referenced that it forgets to actually be its own film. Scream relies so heavily on other films that you start to ask yourself: why didn’t I just watch one of those movies instead? 

...is what you should follow, probably. 

I guess I mean that, at times, the film’s ambitions far outweigh its assets. Even being directed by Wes Craven, who probably has every right to reference these other films, isn’t enough to help it stand on its own legs. It just feels like you’ve seen this film before; everything is too familiar. I guess that’s what you get in an homage, though. 

- These have got to be the most careless, suicidal teenagers on the entire planet. Alright, I know: it’s a horror film. People should make bad decisions, for the sake of the plot. But all the time? For a film that wants to be different, it doesn’t try very hard. I’ve mentioned before (I think?) about how I don’t like being pandered to, and the sort of behavior these teens indulge in is downright insulting. There’s even a scene in which a character lays out the “rules” of surviving a horror film, in all earnesty, while breaking said rules. It’s an affront to logical people everywhere! I’ll give you an example. 

Pop Quiz:

You are a teenager in a town with a bonafide serial killer on the loose. The killer is appearing to kill indiscriminately, so everyone is a potential target. You’ve decided that, despite all this, you’re going to hole up at a house party with lots of people. Unfortunately, since the authorities are apparently run by a dumber, horny version of Deputy Dog, the field of suspects hasn’t been narrowed at all: any of your compatriots at said party could be the killer. What do you do? 

A) I hang out at the party, but I stay with the group; no one is dumb enough to commit a murder in front of dozens of eyewitnesses. 

B) I go for a beer in the garage WITH ONLY TWO EXITS, because #yolo! #stayturnt #300 #savage

C) I go far the fuck away from this ridiculous shit-hole of a town, because I have common-goddamn-sense. And then I make out with Courtney Cox as HARD AS I FUCKING CAN.

One of these things happens in the movie, against all things logical. It’s like the town has required all teens to listen to Elliot Smith on a loop, and their fragile minds have become so apathetic, that their fight-or-flight response has just gone on a cigarette break. 

I’ve never seen a Woody Allen film. Hell, until a few years ago, I thought “Woody Allen” was someone that people had mistaken for the guy from Home Improvement. 

Even Wilson isn’t sure. 

So, when I admitted to a friend that I had no idea who Allen was or what his movies were like, I was encouraged to explore Allen’s films. And, months later, I did: I found this movie on Netflix, and gave it a whirl. 

The film’s plot follows Alvy, an eccentric comedian (of sorts) through his misadventures in dating the titular character: Annie Hall. 

Pros:

- I totally identify with Allen’s idea of the opressive nature of life. Alvy feels constantly oppressed by life- whether it’s anti-semites, his girlfriends (past or present), or the act of driving. I love the way Allen shows his audience the distractions of life. Particularly, I enjoyed a scene in which Alvy is deeply bothered by a man and his pretentious-sounding critique, his claim of understanding, some filmmaker- to which Alvy breaks the fourth wall and addresses the audience, then drags said filmmaker out to rebut the critic’s points. Alvy (who, I should have mentioned earler, is played by Allen) ends the scene by saying: “Boy, if life were only like this”. 

If only.

Also, this is a bit non-sequitor, and maybe a bit revelatory, but Allen hits the nail on the head with his inner monologues. This is to say I identify; maybe not everyone has these kinds of paranoid insecurities, but I can definitely identify. These insecurities help make the characters seem more human. Which leads me to my next point...

- The realistic portrayal of people is simultaneously refreshing and repulsing. I get the feeling that these pros are a) too closely related to be separate entries, and b) totally subjective because I identify with his views. Still, watching this movie, even with the scenes that poke fun of people and their stereotypes, I get the feeling that Allen has made people his business. Maybe I’m wrong, and the thought of human contact has become so repellent to Allen that he has created these stereotypes simply to warn people of his feelings about other people. Whether I’m right or wrong doesn’t matter; I’m convinced that Allen knows people. Some of the characters in this movie are so endearing that I feel like I could befriend them in real life (particularly Duane, who is a bright shade of crazy). Others are so repulsive that you can’t help but scream things through the television at them (like the man in line at the movies, or the Bob Dylan date). Regardless, the people behave like real goddamn people: not dullards that correspond to predetermined words written offstage on cue cards. Realistic characters? In 1977? Whatever happened to that trend? 

It went right up Hollywood’s nose.

Cons:

- Allen’s Alvy can be kind of a baby. An indecisive baby, at that. Just because I identify with him doesn’t mean I have to like him. Still, this idea is almost central to the plot of the movie: at least twice, Alvy discusses a Groucho Marks joke that he claims is a defining factor in his life: “I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member.” This, despite being in the “cons” section, is probably one of the most brilliant pieces of anything ever written*. Anyway, Alvy is neurotic, sexually insatiable, and frankly, spoiled. Part of it is the Jewish stereotype that he may or may not be criticizing; I don’t know, because my knowledge of Allen is limited. Still, his character tended to irritate me. To make a hip-hop analogy, I see Alvy as a little more “bump”, and a little less “grind”.

Ain’t nothin’ wrong... 

- I have a hard time believing that Alvy can function in any environment. Allen is funny. I’m glad he decided to play this role. Following some of the hypocritical natures of the characters in this film, I liken Allen as Alvy as me making a movie in the modern day and casting myself opposite of someone like Emma Stone or Jennifer Lawrence. Your first, most important question to an idea like that should be: “But who would believe that?” That’s what gets me. It seems like nothing Alvy does in the film is really believable. How is he meeting (and dating... and sleeping with) these women? How is he not (staying) in jail? How does someone like Alvy get a job in the first place? I think here is the point where I have to admit my own inadequacies: just because I don’t understand how it can happen doesn’t mean that it couldn’t happen. I mean, people every single day are out there, doing trite, meaningless work, and being paid incredible sums of money for it: and I don’t have the slightest clue as to how this happens. I guess the old saying is true: “the sun also rises”. 

To be completely honest, I didn’t think this movie inspired in me the attention needed to get beyond the core narrative. Most of it was one sarcastic scene after another, each punctuated by Allen’s dry wit. That’s not to say it wasn’t mildly enjoyable; it takes a certain audience. I guess I was expecting something a little more concise in the story-telling department. The ending, however, was like a splash of cold water on my tired face: I won’t spoil it, even though this movie has been finished for nearly 40 years. Instead, I’ll leave you on this note: most of us really do need the eggs. 

The special effects of movies used to be a selling point; now, computer generated stuff is just the norm. This has had a nerfing effect on actors, who can now “green screen” just about anything. But once upon a time, Hollywood would spend great amounts of money for tangible special effects- and they were damn good, too. Yeah, maybe some were a little cheesy, but I think this is a comparative effect: after seeing computer generated graphics, it’s hard to unsee them. 

...but try telling him that.

The Terminator does NOT do that. Sure, there are quaint attempts at CGI, but they are eclipsed by the flesh and blood (pun intended), awesome effects showcased in the rest of the film. It makes a person realize WHY these kinds of movies survived for so long. 

Moving along, The Terminator is a film you’ve likely heard of, but probably never seen. I myself saw Terminator 2 27 times before I even realized there was a first Terminator movie; chalk it up to excited youth (I was 23). Once I saw this movie, though, the second one just kinda pales in comparison in all areas except one: the villain. More on that later, though. 

The Terminator takes place in an awesomely-80′s Los Angeles, with California’s former governor being sent back in time to murder a waitress. Michael Biehn, in the role he was born to play, is a soldier/muscly badass who was also sent from the future to come back and protect this waitress. I’m assuming she provides excellent service. Stuff happens- I don’t want to spoil it. 

Pros:

- This movie has an awesome villain, despite that villain’s flat nature. I love posing scenarios for people, so here’s one: 

You clock out at your job, and wander out to your car. You’re exhausted, but glad to be heading home. Suddenly, there’s a feeling that someone is close behind you, but when you turn, you see no one. “Must be my imagination,” you tell yourself. As you’re driving home, you feel it again, but a quick glimpse in your rear-view mirror confirms what you thought before: there’s still no one behind you. You pull into your drive, put the car in park, and retrieve the keys from the ignition. Unable to shake the feeling from before, you access your glove compartment, and slowly remove the Sig Sauer 9mm from its holster. “I’m just being paranoid; I’m just being paranoid,” you repeat to yourself as you ascend the steps to your home. This is your abode, your homestead- and you will be goddamned if you let any human take that away from you. “Over my dead body,” you whisper. 

“Yes, you can have this; when you pry it from my cold, lifeless hands.”

You’re fumbling for your keys when a sense of weightlessness tosses you from your steps. The next sounds you hear are the simultaneous KRACK!: one is the sound of your deadbolt snapping through the door frame, and the other is your head hitting the sidewalk. Your vision goes a blinding white, then slowly refocuses on the figure you see coming out of your own front door. It stalks toward you, slowly and methodically. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” you scream, demanding an answer. 

You receive no reply, and the figure keeps moving towards you. You quickly (and wisely) remember your pistol; you dig for it among your things, and bring it to bear on your enemy. You snap off the safety, your trembling finger grips the trigger, and you squeeze. After the loud BLAM!, you hear an almost imperceptible pift as the bullet enters your target. A wave of catharsis sweeps over you as you reassure yourself that your attacker has been stopped. 

A wave of pain and surprise washes over now, as your realize that the bones in your hand have been shattered. The pistol that they held has clattered several feet away, and the sudden realization that you are defenseless has overtaken you. You see a glowing, red eye is staring back at you from where you placed your shot from a few moments earlier.

“Over your dead body.” 

This is the last thing you hear before bullet after bullet rends your soft tissue shielded beneath your skull. 

THIS is the feeling that the movie The Terminator eschews. The movie breeds hopelessness because of the unfeeling, uncaring villain. It doesn’t sympathize; it doesn’t concern itself with your problems- it just keeps pressing until your dead. It can’t be reasoned with, or bargained with; it rarely even speaks. It only wants you dead. It doesn’t need to by dynamic, or even have a backstory. This is one thing I totally love about the movie. 

- Romanctic subplot actually has something to do with the movie. I’m pretty sure I’ve used this platform to whine about how romantic subplots are usually really stupid, and add nothing to the actual cinematic experience. I get that somewhere, somehow, there are people that enjoy these extracurricular experiences, but I’m not one of them. In this film, however, the romantic subplot is totally integral to the main plot of the film. Without a little bit of boning, this film couldn’t happen. This is awesome. 

That’s not to say that having “romance” at the heart of your plot works EVERY time. 

Again, I’m not a fan of romance in general, but I think it’s fantastic that a writer thought to his or herself: “How can I simultaneously give audiences what they want and sci-fi fans what they deserve?” This. This is how. All a romantic subplot needs to do is make sense in the bigger picture. You won’t find the characters of this movie stopping in the middle of their escape from the villain to kiss, wasting precious seconds and letting their adversary catch up. The actors in this film understand that they should be running in full, pants-shitting terror from the thing that has it out for them. They stop to fuck only when they believe they are totally safe. That’s just common sense; you don’t pull that “oh, the bad guy is right behind me? Better confess my undying (or, rather, should-be-dead-soon --author’s note) love for so-and-so!” shit. That detracts from the plot, and it insults anyone with half a brain. 

...or, you know, more than half. 

Cons

- Inconsistency. For all the positive writing elements this movie has, one of them is not consistency. For example, one scene, in which two main characters are making plastic explosives, the male character chides the female when she haphazardly assembles her device, claiming that they are fragile. Moments later, after a dialogue between them, the male lets his emotions get the better of him, and starts stuffing the same explosives into a gym bag. I wondered, aloud, “why did he bother scolding her, then?” It’s just minor stuff, and pobody’s nerfect, so you just kind of accept it. I mean, hey: it was the 1980′s. 

There was kind of an epidemic. 

I didn't see this movie until my 20's, and I can say with full confidence that it is one of my deepest regrets. This movie is a double espresso shot of sarcasm, blended into the coffee of relatability (wow, I don't even know if people mix that shit; the coffee metaphor was probably a bad idea. Then again, so is coffee). In short, I thought this movie ruled pretty hard. 

If this picture doesn't make you want to see this film, then there are no answers for your problems.

Groundhog Day stars Bill Murray as a mega-jaded narcissistic weatherman who is sent to cover the sleep-inducing groundhog day event in Punxsutawney, PA. After the event, he tries to leave the town, but a blizzard (ironically) blocks his departure, and he is forced to retreat back to Punxsutawney. When he wakes the next morning, he finds that he is reliving groundhog day; however, with each day he relives, he retains his memory of the past groundhog days. Hilarity ensues. 

This movie, as a comedy, does a lot of things well. It's fairly light, funny (I realize this is subjective), and awesomely relatable; I think just about everyone has had a feeling of deja vu. As a narrative, surprisingly, there aren't a lot of moments that I found myself questioning, despite the fact that the movie revolves around the idea of a guy reliving the same day over and over again. I'll get to my points: 

Pros:

- Sarcasm abounds. Bill Murray is a man known for his sarcastic demeanor. I won't pretend that I'm familiar with his acting career (I've only seen this, and like, Ghostbusters), but this movie really takes the sarcastic cake. He spends, easily, 75+% of this movie not taking things seriously. This is the root of his comedy, and I happen to think it's funny, too. It's not everyday that you find a character so in love with his or herself that they can confidently navigate life the way that Phil Connors does in this movie. I could see how audiences might be split on the guy as a protagonist; he is such a colossal asshole that, at times, he's hard to root for. At the same time, his encounters are ones that we can all relate to: feeling stuck in situations we are powerless to control, the universe conspiring against us.

...all while being accosted by THIS guy. 

What makes the sarcasm interesting is that, for me, at least, I found myself thinking "Wow, yeah; that's how I feel most of the time." If you're not inherently sarcastic, this is probably a con for you. Adjust the review accordingly. 

- Potentiality. I don't care who or what you are (for the army of hedgehogs reading this blog that don't quite make it into the "who" category), you've encountered a situation in which you've wished you could get a mulligan. This entire movie is dedicated to that premise. Moreover, the main character here gets a seemingly infinite number of chances to relive this one day, and he spends it doing the least altruistic things a person could do: from seducing the local women to kidnapping a groundhog. Again, hilarity ensues. I don't want to say too much more about what he does without spoiling the film. 

Cons: 

- It takes a dark turn. Phil spends most of the film with, well, not the best attitude. But it's a livable one. At around the halfway point, the toll of living the same day over and over again starts to drive the main character to madness, and Phil begins to wonder: "what happens if I die?" He explores suicide in a number of ways, and dwelling on this is a real bummer. Imagine: given an infinite amount of time, how long would it be before you began to convince yourself that suicide is an escape? I don't know, it made me wonder about my own mortality, and nobody likes to ponder that stuff. Mental illness is, after all, one of the most uncomfortable things for us "sane" folk. 

"Sane."

At the same time, like I mentioned earlier about subjectivity, you could be into this serious take on what I thought was an otherwise light-hearted film. So, really, it's almost like this con is just another good thing the movie has going for it. 

- Romance. You know, I understand the why of romance in movies, and given the fact that this spans such a large amount of time, I also understand the inevitability of it. That said, I also understand the inevitability of my death: that doesn't mean I have to like it. It seems like there is a never ending supply of screenplays that wedge romance into themselves in order to be relevant, and, frankly, I find it a more than a little annoying. In this film, it's palatable, but only because I think Andie MacDowell is endearing (and hot), and Bill Murray is just an average looking dude. This gives average looking dudes everywhere a sense of hope, that one day, through intense sarcasm and mastery of French poetry, we might land our own Andie MacDowell. Well, the joke's on us: you can't fuck French poetry. 

...until NOW!

At this point, I'm rambling, and it doesn't matter; you've probably seen this movie. Unless you are under 20, in which case, because of the generational gap, it might be lost on you. Even so, there's very little for me to complain about, and I'm betting, with a cold winter's night and two hours to kill, you'll enjoy this movie the same way I did. 

When I was younger, I was incredibly competitive. As a kid, I was a also really into betting. These two characteristics led to a lot of escalated situations; a friend might start by daring me to say something inappropriate to a stranger, and it would end with us running from the police. The thing is, I like to think that the people around me, and myself included, we had integrity: if we agreed to a dare/bet, we went through with it. Pragmatically speaking, this is a dumb way to live, but to reiterate: we had integrity. 

I get the feeling that Neil Blomkamp lives his life this way. If I had to venture a guess, I'd guess that Blomkamp is early to mid 30's, and he grew up with the same sense of obligation that comes from the childhood bets. I could Google this stuff (the age thing, I mean), but I don't need to- I definitely recognize this behavior. 

That's why, when I went to see CHAPPiE, I formed a hypothesis at the end of the movie. I theorize that, through his celebrity, Blomkamp met the band Die Antword, who are featured prominently in the film, and, after meeting them, something must have happened to lead Blomkamp to make a bet... and lose. Because their involvement in this film is one of the most douche-chill-inducing things I've ever seen in a movie. 

...and I've seen Ghost Rider 2. 

Being a man of integrity, though, Blomkamp carried out his part of the bet, and allowed Die Antword to be cast in his movie. 

A quick synopsis: In the year 2016, the world sees an influx of robots in South Africa. The robots are used for police work; they save lives, do their job, everything is awesome. The man who developed the robots has been working on an artificial intelligence that he is unable to test. Meanwhile, there are two criminals trying to evade the police and their psychotic business partner, after a deal apparently sours. They decide that the robot cops have to go, and they go straight to the source: the developer. Cue the "I-don't-give-a-shit-about-the-rules" trope, and the developer offers to build the criminals a robot capable of doing... something for criminals, I don't remember. It's been a couple of days. CHAPPiE is born, and then shit gets weird. 

Pros: 

- This film has intelligent, effective moments. Just because the film features Die Antword in pretty important supporting roles doesn't mean that it doesn't accomplish some awesome things. For example, CHAPPiE himself, though surrounded by characters I find difficult to empathize with, is easy to empathize with. CHAPPiE functions, in the earliest part of the movie, as a child. This movie, though confusing in its execution, is clear in asking the question: "what defines life?". I found myself affected at a particularly soul-crushing scene, midway through the film, and I thought to myself: "holy shit, is this film actually communicating an idea?" It made me ask myself what makes something "alive"? Is it sentience? Is it the intangible "soul?" 

Is this "people?"

The kind of curiosity it inspired was refreshing. It made me realize that movies can and probably should ask tough questions. On to the next pro...

- This movie addresses another important subject: the dangers of robotics. I think the setting for the film (the year 2016 and Africa) is no accident. Africa is a dangerous place, and the idea of utilizing robotic police there seems like a no-brainer. On the other side of things, I grew up watching the Terminator films: I have been trained to fear the shit out of the robot apocalypse. As such, watching a film that has a robots WANDERING THE STREETS AS THEY PLEASE is scary as fuck, and worse, someone thought it was a good idea to create a working artificial intelligence. To me, this is on par with a program that would give weapons to convicted killers: it's just not a great idea.

Still, the didactic element is appreciated. So many narratives showcase advanced robotics as a good thing (think: Iron Man, for example), and they fail to see the problem of heavy reliance. At the core of the movie, though, I think the writer wanted to explain that behind every bad robot idea is a human. You'll have to see the movie to know what I mean here. 

Cons: 

- The faux gangster shit got old quickly. I understand that CHAPPiE had to be corrupted in some way, and I applaud Blomkamp for deciding to take it down the road less travelled (that is, not the same old obviously-evil character as the corrupter). That said, using Die Antword as the not-exactly-altruistic teachers to CHAPPiE's student felt weird. Not because they were terrible actors, exactly; more because Ninja (particularly) was just too goofy looking to be a believable gangster. Maybe there was supposed to be a parallel between CHAPPiE and Ninja, seeing as how they are both dynamic characters. I don't know; I just seriously hated seeing them put gold chains on a robot. On the bright side, the bizarre graffiti lining the walls of Ninja and Yolandi's lair (what else would you call it?) featured a plethora of dicks, and that means that a lot of clueless parents probably had to awkwardly explain that graffiti to their kids.

Even some adults were probably not sure what they were seeing.

 Still, the hoodlum shit they were doing was incredibly off putting and, truthfully, pretty annoying. It also leads into my next point:

- Plausibility (or lack thereof). Let me get this straight: you have a software engineer, a job driven by pragmatism, who finds himself between a rock and a hard place with his development of an A.I. He gets kidnapped, and decides "Fuck it; this is a great time to test my A.I. on a robot I stole!" and willingly gives it to his kidnappers. Meanwhile, he steals a vital flash drive from his place of employment, of which they apparently have only one. Does this sound a little too convenient? That's because it is. 

You know what else is convenient? A corporation that can use GPS to track their robots, but never bothers to track down this missing flash drive. Days go by without them bothering to just track their stuff down. Why? If only one flash drive exists, why is it intermittently important? I just couldn't suspend my disbelief here. The same is true about a robot that lasts days and days without a charge when I can't even get my cellphone to go 12 hours. This is supposedly 2016; why doesn't the robot have a charge port? Am I expected to believe that the most cost effective solution for Africa is to replace car batteries in their police robots every week? Bullshit. It's a third world country: they can't afford this. I know it's science fiction, and all these points are convenient to the plot, but I know Blomkamp wasn't paid in candy to make this: it needed more polish. I think. 

Anyway, short story long, the movie wasn't the worst thing I've ever seen, though I doubt I'll buy it when it's released on blu-ray or dvd. If you want a watchable sci-fi romp with robots, it's not bad. It may pique your curiosity about life, and that's awesome, but be prepared to straight-up hate some characters. 

Also, as a parting thought, it occurs to me that a lot of people probably don't know what the hell a "Die Antword" is. Well, let me remedy that with a simple video, and you can decide for yourself how you feel about all this: 

I made plans to see this movie with a great friend, because we both share an interest in science fiction. This movie was made by The Wachowskis, who also made those Matrix movies that a lot of you under 20 have probably never seen. Regardless, the success of those movies provided the Wachowskis with a platform to do, I'm assuming, whatever they wanted cinematically. 

And boy/girl, did they ever. <—- (sorry, that is a terrible pun). What came out was this movie. This movie is such a terrific piece of shit. It makes me simultaneously hopeful and hopeless; if this movie can get made, than anyone can make anything. If you’ve ever wanted to write a movie, go ahead. If someone gave this thing the “go-ahead”, then your film will undoubtedly get it, too.

At the same time, how couldanyone sign off on this? I guess you’ll just have to see it for yourself- ha,just kidding: I’ll write this review and tell you exactly why this movie is not suitable for human consumption.

I’m going to deviate from my usual form of analysis by instead focusing on all the negative things I want to write about in this movie. There will be no Pros here.

Science fiction films tend to require their audiences to suspend disbelief in order to achieve understanding. I won’t talk down to you about this kind of thing, but I just want to make suremy audience is aware of the concept of “jumping the shark.” Traditionally, it’s an idiom used to identify the low point of a television show, like in Happy Days when a character jumped over a shark with water skis. The way I’ll  use it here will change the traditional meaning a little- instead, I think “jumping the shark” can be an idiom for a point in the plot where audiences can no longer suspend their disbelief; this movie evokes that response early in the film. I find it difficult to imagine anyone, no matter how open-minded about this film, not reaching this point. Upon leaving the theater, my aforementioned friend coined the phrase “jumping the cosmic shark”, and I thought it was a fitting idiom for the whole movie. Now then, let me get this party started.

No, he isn't literally "jumping the shark". But if you don't get the picture with this picture, then this movie is perfect for you. 

Wait, belay that. Before I start the party, a quick synopsis is necessary: this chick named Jupiter goes to sell her eggs one day (I kid you not), shit backfires, she goes into space. Channing Tatum is a wolf with guyliner. That is the best I can do with what the movie gave me; you really have to see this thing to believe it (but seriously, it’s sci-fi-film; are you even that surprised?)

Cons:

- Rollerboots. This may seem like an odd place to start, but holy shit, I assure you: they absolutely need to be discussed. Channing Tatum’s character is some kind of cool-guy-protagonist-thing and of course, since this is sci-fi, there has to be something that modern earthlings, as a society, don’t have yet. That something is never given a proper name, so I’m calling them “rollerboots”. These allow Channing Tatum, who I will further refer to as “Tater-Wolf”, to basically rollerblade across everything, including air. They work by gravity something-something, and science that HUMANS CAN’T UNDERSTAND YET.

Prepare your brain for a whole lot of stuff it won't understand. 

Holy shit. Do you see those? They play an integral part in the movie, for no real reason at all. It’s as though the Wachowskis threw darts at a board covered in early 90’s trends, and the first two things that their darts landed on were brainstormed into this movie. Seriously, if you could only see the way that he skates around the universe in these ridiculous roller boots- then you’d know why these had to be included in my critique. Number one crazy thing. For some odd reason, their vision requires the damsel in distress as being saved ONLY by the future version of one of those Rocket Power kids. What’s worse is that, through the exposition of the film, you get the feeling that the writers actually like the rollerboots. Notice how they merit an explanation in this scene…

…but not the giant portal she steps through in the window? On what planet do you question the validity of futuristic rollerskates BEFORE a portal!?

Yeah, you could have seen THIS one coming. 

No explanation is asked for, and none is offered. The rollerboots are also utilized only when they are impractical or inconvenient, which I can’t really describe without giving away parts of the plot. You know, just in case you still want to see this when I’m done.

- Logic = 0.

There are about a billion things I could tackle to show how continuity and logic were blatantly disregarded in this film, but I won’t live long enough to get through them all. The first one I can think of relates to my last bullet point: Tater-Wolf has rollerboots. Early in the film, one of the major characters is shown teleporting, and not in a grandiose way- just basic, quick, ‘port action. It doesn’t seem like something that takes time to warm up, or like it has a cooldown of any kind, so you have to wonder: why does Tater-Wolf use rollerboots at all? When teleportation is a clear, easy alternative, why-? I should clarify for a second. Asking “why?” of this movie is a one way ticket to Crazyville. It shouldn’t be done. …that said, I still wonder:

WHY?

I desperately want to understand this movie. The bummer here is that I can’t describe much of the illogical stuff without giving away major plot points, but here’s another one. Early in the movie, you learn that the titular character is low on the socio-economic ladder. She cleans toilets. Making her this way, I believe, was to set up for a scene later in which the character suggests, to another, that “maybe [a different character] should have [cleaned toilets]”. I’m paraphrasing there, but it just didn’t make a lot of sense; the major motivator in this movie, the conflict, doesn’t revolve so much around monetary gain. So why on Earth is it necessary for Jupiter to be poor? One theory offered by my friend after the film is that it was a characteristic enhancer: she written as poor in order to highlight her actions later in the film as valiant. The problem with this logic is that there were no money or possessions involved; it was a dispute about time/lives instead. Being poor added nothing. In fact, being old would clear things right up, but that’s not what happened. I apologize if this is confusing; you just have to see the movie to understand what I mean.

- “The bees- they can sense royalty”. This is paraphrased from the movie. If they can sense royalty, what else can they sense? Can they sense my confusion? This is the moment. This, here, is where the film jumps the “cosmic shark”. Jupiter just happily plays with bees, never even really pausing to ask “why can I play with bees?” Who believes this shit? I don’t. Quite frankly, I think I’d rather get a burger.

How about you?

Also, it explains a lot about this: 

- The writing tropes involved lead to more problems down the line.

Let’s see… rags to riches? Check. Evil stepbrother/sister/son/daughter/thing? Yep. Stockholme syndrome romance? All present. This movie is like a fishing net for cliches, and some of them lead to some of the most awkward, ridiculous moments in the film. I’m cutting this entry short to focus on the result of one particular trope-

- Stupid pointless dummy romance. If I were to get real for a moment, I’ll go out on a limb and admit that Channing Tatum is a conventionally attractive man. I mean, minus the weird goatee and guyliner he rocks in this film, he’s good to go. It’s not a stretch to imagine him getting with a girl like Mila Kunis under normal circumstances. What happens in this movie, though, is an affront to both rational logic AND emotional logic; pretty much all logic everywhere started listening to Morrissey and cutting themselves upon discovery of the romantic subplot in this movie.

Take, for example, the big reveal. That’s how it usually works in movies- character a flirts with character b, character b flirts back, and soon a crush develops. In Jupiter Ascending, both characters suffer from an unbelievable lack of self-confidence, and neither character can really own up to their crush, until their love reaches an apex and they ejaculate feelings all over the place. As a result of another ridiculous scene, I don’t see how this is shocking, even to the characters involved.

So there’s a scene in which, apparently, Jupiter can’t stand not telling Tater-Wolf that she’s got the hots for him. He rejects her advances, and that’s that. . Alright. Points for- wait, hang on, did you see that? Deja vu; didn’t I just see this scene? That’s correct: they play basically the exact same scene only a few minutes later. This time, though, he acquiesces and starts to let her in. These scenes are approximately four minutes apart. So, apparently, Tater-Wolf’s patience has a limit of four minutes. What the fuck?

- This leads to one of the worst scenes. At this point, I’m not even reviewing anymore. Accept it and leave, if you want. Or stay. Realize this: this movie sucks, and it’s probably best if you hear everything about it that sucks from me instead of wasting $20 on a date night. Whatever date you go on would probably still end up better than this scene. You’ve heard of “love in the middle of a firefight?” Well, this is exactly that. Jupiter and Tater-Wolf, knee deep in flying bullets, call a time-out and they kiss. How romantic! Right? Except that everything around them stops. People stop shooting, they stop hiding behind cover; they straight up kiss while people are shooting at them. Juniper explains that she wanted to get that out of the way, in case they died. Ironically, even though they left cover and just expected everyone to stop trying to kill them, they survive. Unfortunately. It’s as though the goal of this film is the complete opposite of immersion. It’s vision is so conflicted, you constantly find yourself asking things like:  

- “Who the hell are you?” Another thing I couldn’t wrap my brain around was the fact that the movie introduces you to characters that can’t speak and serve no purpose, like, an hour and 30 minutes into the film. One example is a guy I’ve conveniently named “Elephant man”.

Artist rendering.

The movie, not content with forcing you to believe that rollerboots are cool, just throws this guy in the movie, somewhere near the end. He never speaks; at least, not in a language we can understand. He just screams. In elephant.

Also, early in the film, we are introduced to three siblings (who kind of/sort of act as the film’s antagonists), one who is shown, and promptly forgotten about. What is going on with these people that they just “forget” about a whole villain? -wait! I think I know! Yes, the answer is…

- This movie has to be a giant piece of fan fiction.

Shown: Tater-Wolf + Juniper. That pretty much sums it up.

The ending to this movie is so insane that I was forced to finally make the connection: the Wachowskis, finally coming down from their Matrix cloud, needed money, and pitched another sci-fi trilogy to whatever studio released this. After they tried putting leather on anything with a heartbeat within a 50 mile radius, they realized that there was an easier, cheaper way: fan fiction. There’s no better way to explain that two sibling writers would let the shit that happened in this movie happen without the absence of giving a shit. That or they are in WAY too deep, and they really believe, like Tommy Wiseau, that they are sitting on an award winning film.

For my money, I’d have probably been better off with this movie anyway.

Leaving the movie, I scrambled to find a pen and paper to scribble down my thoughts, and one caught me especially by surprise: I was actually entertained. I could have walked out at any time, but I didn’t. Not just because I was with a friend, but because I found myself genuinely enjoying my experience. Don’t misunderstand me- this movie sucks. It’s a steaming pile of dogshit. Maybe, though, in it’s confusing, misguided attempts to be a sci-fi epic, it secretly transitioned into a self-aware comedy? Maybe the writers knew that rollerblades are silly, and that the idea of splicing a man and a wolf to make Tater-Wolf was probably going to backfire. Who knows? All I can say for sure is this declaratory statement: "I paid money to see this, and I wrote a review."

I don't know if there's another Coming to America movie, but I dated this one to age myself a little. Coming to America is a film that stars/capitalizes on Eddie Murphy's pure, ultimate star power in the 1980s. I wasn't very conscious of the world around me back then, but as I understand it, Murphy commanded the power of a small nation of gods, only with considerably more money (this claims that his nickname back then was "Money", presumably just a $ symbol, like Prince). 

Eddie Murphy, Post-Op.  

Anyway, Murphy plays an African prince who gets bummed out on a marriage his parents planned for him, and leaves the country for America. He decides it will be the best place to find his future bride, and hilarity ensues. 

I think the film is well placed, and the humor is smart without being overly filthy. A lot of things are great about this. Let me get to that-

Pros: 

- Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall work well together. Particularly in this movie, they have a chemistry. The roles call for a give and take, and that's what they deliver. I particularly enjoy the club scene, in which the prince tries to meet ladies, who turn out to be more than he bargained for. You see the way that the prince and his servant work together to convey the craziness of some of these chicks. It's refreshing. This movie has the best trappings of a buddy comedy without actually being a buddy comedy. Check this scene out: 

It's amazing to me how something as tired as a spit-take is funny here, but it's because of the chemistry between Hall and Murphy. Real good stuff. 

- The movie is pretty lighthearted, but features a lot of semi-serious satire. Another great thing about this film is its accessibility. The movie is almost as old as I am, and I know I didn't watch it for the first time until I was at least a teenager. So how could I relate? The movie just deals with a lot of commonly accepted themes. One such theme is irony. Irony is funny (I know I didn't need to tell you that, but sometimes I just like to hear myself type). One of the ironic situations posed in the movie is that a mega-rich prince comes to America, the land of opportunity, and ends up working at a McDonald's knock-off. Or is it the other way around- a McDowell's knock-off? I'll try to avoid any chicken-or-the-egg style arguments here, but this is lighthearted humor... until you catch the subtle hints about fast food jobs hidden in the dialogue. Louie Anderson is featured in a scene where he is (again, ironically) lecturing the prince about the hierarchy of McDowell's, convinced that he is in-the-know. 

He's not petty or malicious, he's just convinced that, with hard work, he'll climb the chain. There are two major ironies here: 

1) That he thinks climbing the chain will amount to "big bucks", and 

2) That Louie is speaking to someone who is, where he is from, at the top of the food chain.

Little things like this excite me. You could construct an entire argument around this scene and its true meaning about the capitalist West, but I'm lazy, and I don't want to (FIND THE DEEPER MEANING THERE, SLAVE). 

But, like everything else in life, some things inevitably suck-

Cons:

- (This one might get me in trouble) Where are the white people? There's a part of me that understands that a dude from Africa being the centerpiece of a movie is going bring a lot of Africans into the spotlight. Maybe the point of the movie is to ignore a white perspective, which is actually pretty refreshing, because, as a white guy, I already have that. Still, I have to wonder: why are the only white dudes in this movie an caricature (Louie Anderson) and a black dude in- what would you call it? "Whiteface"? I mean, there are a couple of other characters who are white (i.e. an irate cab driver, two formerly-upper-class homeless fellows from another movie), but generally, the movie is devoid of white Americans. Not the worst thing, but I think, for the sake of plausibility, it would make sense to sprinkle more capable white people- ok, fuck that argument. That's how white dudes get beat up. 

This guy accidentally interchanged "African American" and "African". 

- Not enough James Earl Jones. James Earl Jones might be one of the most powerful, imposing, and frightening characters of the 20th and 21st centuries. This dude was Darth Vader's voice; that means that someone actually decided "No, no, that 7 ft. tall giant psycho isn't scary enough, let's just use JEJ. He's scarier." SCARIER THAN A 7 FT. TALL MOUNTAIN OF HUMAN. 

If you're not scared of this dude, then you're doing it wrong. 

JEJ has a lot of awesome lines of dialogue in the movie, but I was bummed that the time between Eddie Murphy leaving Africa and JEJ getting sick of writing checks is left with a JEJ void. There could've been a scene involving him receiving Arsenio Hall's letters, and getting super pissed (though the human rights violations involved with JEJ getting mad is probably frowned upon). I don't know, I don't write movies; I react to them. On instinct.