APOLLO 18 - I Didn't Even Bother With This Movie Review

What a goddamn lemon. Somehow I really got sucked up into the hype machine during the build-up for Apollo 18's release. The cryptic, grainy trailers piqued my interest like a hot lady sitting on the bus with a really short skirt; however, when this lady uncrossed her legs all I saw was a big fat dong.

This movie review marks a departure from my typical movie reviews in that this time I didn’t actually bother to see the movie. What?!  How can you deliver a cogent and insightful review of the movie if you haven’t seen it?  First off, I find this question offensive. Not that I want to get off on the wrong foot or create a bad first impression, but fuck you. Who do you think you are? You barge your way onto my blog and tell me how to run things? I don’t think so. I’ve worked too damn . . . well, I was going to write “hard,” but . . . suffice to say I have done stuff with some discernible amount of effort. Whatever. The point is, if you are expecting anything cogent or insightful then it is obvious you have not read anything on this blog and that hurts my feelings. There, I said it.


Sorry, I just lashed out there. I didn’t mean that. I dunno what’s been going on with me. I guess I thought I would get more visitors here and really I’m just disappointed with myself. Now I’m transferring that anger to you. It’s not fair, you’re right. It really is my own fault. I mean, who would do a movie review about a movie they haven’t even seen? Jesus! Is that arrogance or just stupidity? Wow, this has been a real eye opener for me.

I totally got you. I didn’t learn anything.

Oh, BTW:

THERE’S CRABS ON THE MOON! THE RUSSIANS GOT THERE FIRST! THEY DIE! IT’S A BUNCH OF CHEAP THRILLS! WAKKA WAKKA WAKKA! I’M STILL THE YAHTZEE KING!

FRIGHT NIGHT - The Least Offensive Movie Review

What is Fright Night? What exactly is supposed to be so frightening about it? Do we really need another emo, glittering vampire movie? No, we don't, and luckily Fright Night doesn't give it to us. This vampire certainly does not  care about your stupid human feelings - I was pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, if this is not the role that Colin Farrell was born to play then I'm a jackass: hunky, suburban, working class Joe who moonlights as a serial rapist. He saunters freely around people's houses leering at moms and underaged teens alike, smiling and exuding the kind of confidence that a frat boy displays once you start feeling the roofies. There is just something about Colin Farrell that absolutely screams out: "I'm a rapist!" and what fantastic work on behalf of the casting director to tap into that natural rapey energy for this villainous role.

To fulfill his unholy desires, Jerry, the handy, do-it-yourself vampire in Fright Night, constructed his own impressive modern and innovative take on the classic rape dungeon. It's a rape dungeon in function, but in appearance it is merely the second floor of his inconspicuous suburban home. And staying under the radar isn't the only thing it has going for it! The sturdy framework, clean sheetrocking, and secure design really showed that Jerry  studied and honed his loathsome craft seriously over the past 400 years.  Though Bob Villa certainly is not a vampire rapist, he could appreciate the efficient, clean work of Jerry's little upstairs project.

And do you know how hard it is for a vampire to make a trip to Home Depot? Oh my God! First of all, he had to wait for winter so that it gets dark before they close, then, once inside, he was surrounded by tons deliciously retarded people that he couldn't eat. Willpower alert! Seriously, who at home depot knows their ass from their elbow, let alone a dovetail from a lap joint? When you're a serious rape dungeon craftsman, like Jerry, it must be absolutely infuriating to watch these foolish humans bungle their hard and softwoods. And who would ever miss them? Some degenerate, half-wit selling paint isn't going to be missed, that's for sure. He needs to be eaten! Spill that blood! NO! That's where Jerry's true dedication to the craft takes over. Despite his near overwhelming urge to devour everyone at Home Depot, Jerry withholds gratification, politely pays for his lumber, sheetrock, and screws, and goes home to build the most awesome suburban rape dungeon in Nevada.

Now, Jerry isn't just a one dimensional rapist. He's not just a "invite them over and imprison them in my rape dungeon" rapist; where's the challenge in that? Only a stripper would fall for that, and I'm not even sure they count. No, he's gotta a go bigger, more ambitious. A real proactive raper. Jerry brings his raping skills to the club where he is considerably aided in his pursuits by his super hunky exterior and his ability to move swiftly and cling to ceilings with superhuman ability. As if super hunky wasn't enough! P'shaw! And if that isn't proof that this guy is the wonderkin of raping, his blood is like pure GHB! The date rape drug! Crazy! I know! Just one taste and women fall in to a easily manipulable stupor. If some raging frat boy was bitten by a radioactive, rapist spider, you'd have Jerry; and if that radioactive frat boy moved next door to you, then you'd be in Fright Night!

RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES - THE EXCLUSIVE PNI INTERVIEW

Rise of the Planet of the Apes, like a warm, pillowy, ball of dough under the care and attention of a master baker, has risen. RotPotA is a spellbinding romp through the ultimate "what if?" scenario: what if John Lithgow found work again? Pure genius is the answer. I wondered what 'ol Johnny boy had been up to for the last decade, and apparently he was deeply imbedded in a retirement home for Alzheimer's patients doing research for his role as an Alzheimer's patient who should be in a retirement home. The years of careful study certainly paid of because his off-beat, absent-minded weirdness was unlike any of the off-beat, absent-minded weirdness he has become known for. Nailed it. That, folks, is what we in the business like to call acting.

The following is a transcript of my exclusive interview with Mr. John Lithgow:

Me: John, thank you so much for taking the time to talk to us today.

John: My pleasure.

I only wish that the whole movie could have been focused on John Lithgow and his wacky hijinks, but instead they had to muddle the whole story by involving some apes. See, the problem with the apes is it just confused the hell out of me, emotionally. With Lithgow, at least I know where I stand, I want him to overcome his adversity, beat the odds, and make it out OK. In short, I know who's team I'm on, Team Lithgow. Now, you throw in all this monkey business and all of a sudden I don't know who's team I'm on or even what game I'm playing. The main monkey, Caesar, is amazing, his experience is so powerful, and his plight so relateable that I can't help but identify and attach myself emotionally to his journey, which is fine until he leads a revolution against the humans! That's my species! Nooooooo! My childlike moral compass can't handle it!

I continually found myself rooting for Caesar and his pals to go 187 on a muthafuckin' cop. Wait! I don't mean that! When that mean looking monkey was facing down that black guy in the downed helicopter, something deep inside said "do it." No! That's a lie! I felt real, genuine joy as Caesar and company broke through the human ranks and made it to freedom amongst the redwoods. Jesus Christ! I am a monkey lover!

For shame!

As a human myself, how could I allow myself to get so close to the enemy? What sort of monkey magic possessed me and won me over, heart and mind? I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive myself or fit back into human society again. I don't fit in as a human because I am too ape, and I don't fit in with apes because I am too human. Oh, what cruel fate. You damned dirty apes . . . I love you.

Also, I'd like to add: fuckin' Malfoy.

Move all my shares into banana futures . . . Yeah, that's right, fuckin' Bananas!

COWBOYS AND ALIENS - WORST MOVIE REVIEW EVER WRITTEN!

Cowboys and Aliens, this is the big climactic action scene.

Cowboys and Aliens? A vague title including two seemingly dissonant factions  -  the first: real, rugged, and the largest demographic of Ford truck owners; the other: a fevered, often violating, pubescent dream of kids who enjoy math. What’s not to like? Everyone gets equal service, the same, equal, awful service.  I’m a big fan of Favreau and the way his name rolls off my tongue, but I have a feeling he has pushed the limits of how much alcohol I need to consume to enjoy his movies. Iron Man 1, I could enjoy sober. Iron Man 2, I needed a couple gin shots with brewsky chasers. Cowboys and Aliens, I shotgunned a pint of absynthe and spent the last half of the movie blind and having a conversation with the Planters Peanuts guy. To enjoy Favreau’s next movie I’ll have to inject Everclear directly into my veins and spend the next five years in a coma. I'm coming home Mr. Peanut!

With such an all-star cast, how did it all go so horribly wrong? Fresh off of her Italian holiday, is there a hotter starlet than Olivia Wilde? After his complicity in the rape of Indiana Jones, was there anyone we wanted to see redeemed more than Harrison Ford? Since he is my idol, is there anyone on Earth we would rather be than Daniel Craig? I don’t know the answer to the first two questions, but the last one is a resounding “NO!” In addition to hot abs,  Daniel Craig has brought a conflicted, complex, and nuanced approach to his roles as good and bad characters alike in movies like Casino Royale and Layer Cake. He just simmers in every role, ready to burn anyone foolish enough to get too close. Nobody is a bigger fan than me. I wonder what he smells like? Plus, he recently married Rachel Weisz – my total Hollywood dream babe! OMG! It’s like me and Daniel are living the dream, together, as one! I want to live inside of him and wear his skin and walk around in it and make love to his beautiful wife in it. We are like one entity, me and DC. Nobody can keep us apart... NOBODY!

Anyway, why do aliens always get right up in people’s faces and scream? That’s stupid. If I’m an alien and I’ve traveled billions of star-miles to get to Earth and when I finally get close to a human all I can think of is to get right in his face and scream some unintelligible shit? I don’t think so. What in the hell were those alien’s doing for all the star-years it took to get here? I don’t drive to work without thinking about what I’m going to say at my morning meeting. I don't just show up and start screaming in my secretary’s face. If I were traveling to an alien planet and I had many star-years to get there, I would totally think of something really awesome and witty to say. Although, I’ll bet that when I got to the alien planet I’d watch one of their movies and it would be about some idiot human screaming in an alien’s face. I guess that’s life . . . star-life. Zing!

Captain America: The First Avenger - BEST MOVIE REVIEW EVER!

Captain America. Captain of a once proud nation. Cappy stands as a symbol of the core values that made America great, values which have been systematically violated and cast aside by that very nation while Captain America slept in his icy bed. When America violated its own values, it violated Captain America - and while he was passed out no less. Disgusting. Such a crime. Literally, anywhere you go in the civilized world, that is a crime. We’ve treated Captain America like a freshmen sorority girl and we should feel terrible (perhaps donate some of our trust fund interest payments to a battered women shelter). But now, finally, we get to hear his story.

Endowed with superhuman speed, strength, and regenerative abilities, along with chiseled abs and muffin titties, how could such a man embody the fightin’ underdog spirit of America? Simple, make us believe that underneath that endless handsome and muscle there is a withered up, asthmatic, near-handicapped man. And isn’t this a near perfect metaphor for the country that Captain America represents? A nation with a military so powerful it could destroy all life on the face of this earth with the touch of a button, yet is convinced that at its heart, it’s very soul, it is a simple, vehemently unsophisticated, mildly retarded man. America believes that deep down inside, at its center, it is merely your toothless cousin from Nebraska who’s overalls are way too big and are caked with cow shit. This way, despite having the largest military on earth and the most powerful weapons ever invented, America, in its own mind, and Captain America, in his own mind, remain the underdog - that scrappy fighter that never backs down from an insult and is always willing to stand up for what’s right. It is true, a weak man knows the value of power, which right now is exactly $98.56 USD per barrel. Go get ‘em Cappy!

First of all, it’s never OK to wear a flag as a piece of clothing. I enjoyed how half the movie was dedicated to justifying Captain America’s appalling fashion decision, but, in the end, even that wasn’t enough. He wears an American flag suit, lame, but wait! It gets better! He does it because he was part of a traveling theater performance company that sang show tunes and danced - which he enjoyed so much that he wanted to wear his shitty costume all the time to constantly be reminded of it. Bullshit. Evil Knieval did it, but at least he was drunk and hated himself. Listen to me, Cappy, you need to burn the uniform of this and every other shitty job you ever left. Trust me, it’s part of the healing process. Get yourself something strappy, play with proportions a little, and it wouldn’t hurt to put a boot cut on those trousers.

So, we know Steve Rogers is dreamboat, but what about the rest of the cast?

• Red Skull. He quit the Nazi’s right? So that makes it cool to say that I think he’s awesome right? Because he is. Did you see those outfits? And that car? Awesome! But if he is still a Nazi, I totally take that back. It's too bad about the face too. I'll bet that is a deal breaker for most women. How could he kiss with those lips? He probably weeps with loneliness when he pounds off his withered, red junk.

• Peggy Carter has an amazing rack, almost as nice as Captain America’s.

• Philip Seymour Hoffman’s stunt double filled in nicely for the role of Dr. Zola.

• Tommy Lee Jones was, again, cast in the role of Tommy Lee Jones in the role that Tommy Lee Jones was born to play . . . over and over again 

So, was the movie any good? Who gives a fuck? You're going to go see it anyway or chances are you've seen it already. I have. I'm just as guilty as you.