Get Behind Me Satan

For Lucid Screening's '08 White Elephant Blog-a-thon, I tried to bless somebody with "Airborn" but was forced to go with "Only the Strong" when the DVD proved unavailable. Both titles bring a smile to my face. And I wanted to share that smile with somebody. What I got in return was Evilspeak.

In the hands of a different creative team, Evilspeak could have been "Carrie," "Porky's," and "The Next Karate Kid" all rolled into one. And for my money, that movie would be crap. But I'd probably be down to eat a bowl of Cheerios to it.

Instead, in the hands of Eric Weston and Joseph Garofalo (no relation to Janine), and the dude who created "Beastmaster," we get gratuitous (and at one point, full frontal male) nudity, Satan-based computer apps, and a young Clint Howard whose range as an actor can only be measured in degrees buttdussy (that's booty, di*k, and putty). But, despite looking like he just caught a wave of hot ass every time the story requires him to emote, the likeable Howard seems right at home in a movie that 17 year-olds in 1994 would probably love to watch blunted.


Howard (pictured above, 8 degrees buttdussy) plays Stanley Coopersmith, who finds himself on the wrong end of a lot of ass kickings and spontaneous games of monkey in the middle. But when he stumbles upon an 18th century Satanic place of worship built by Bull from "Night Court", he inputs some Satanic verses into his 1982 Tandy Computer and after completing a checklist that includes at least one ritualistic sacrifice, is able to conjure Bull's spirit. And with the remaining fifteen minutes of the movie, Bull channels himself into Stanley's body, and together, then they get buck. It's worth noting that the fusion of Clint Howard and dude from "Night Court" at one point yields a single terrifying frame of Will Ferrell.

Evilspeak also boasts a supporting cast that includes several veterans of the USA original series circuit, the HeyHEYhey guy from "What's Happening!," and the Jewfro'd neighbor from "That 70's Show" as Coopersmith's main antagonist.

I'm still not sure what this movie is trying to be, or maybe I'm so sure that it scares me. What also scares me is the somewhat randomly juxtaposed and therefore infinitely creepy 3 seconds of Super-8 footage involving a naked woman, a wild boar, and a bathtub full of blood and guts.

Thanks again, White Elephant.

it was a graveyard smash

(for the second running of the white elephant blog-a-thon over at lucid screening, i was initially assigned to watch howard the duck. netflix had other ideas.)

take two: orgy of the dead. things looked bleak right off the bat when i didn't recognize a single movie (the gore gore girls, etc.) in the 'enjoyed by members who enjoyed' section of netflix. i was starting to freak. i hate scary movies and the word 'dead' is in the title. you're probably saying to yourself, 'this man has never seen an ed wood flick before in his life'. you are goddamn right.

there is nothing scary about this movie. instead of focusing on the word 'dead', i should have been paying more attention to 'orgy'. if you like ta-ta's and thighs, dig in. but also if you like blatant inconsistencies and the denny's equivalent of dialogue - then please, sit.

80% of this movie takes place in what seems to be my best friend's backyard and roughly the same percentage involves topless white women shimmying to subtle variations of the hawaii five-o theme song. orgy of the dead teaches lifelong lessons like, 'a pussycat is meant to be whipped' and 'no one wants to see a man dance'. and it closes its eyes, reaches into the cliche grab bag, and pulls out the 'it was all a dream' ending b-sheit.

it's also worth noting that the trailer literally shows the entire movie and the dvd menu screen was seemingly created by an adult who has unashamedly mastered broderbund's kid pix design suite.

ain't nuthin but a mistake

the TCP is back in black (...and white) with carol reed's the fallen idol. it's based on a graham greene short story, so it was safe to expect a story about foreigners in foreign countries and the promise of a murder. here we have the son of the french ambassador of england, phillippe (above, red-handed) who worships his globetrotting butler, mr. baines. i can confidently say that i have never encountered an on-screen character as annoying as this little child. an amazingly effective drinking game would just be to drink whenever phillipe says 'baines'. he literally says this in every scene.

since it was released in 1948, cops use the term 'blackies' and when found roaming the streets of london in his pajamas, phillipe is mockingly called nick carter. i wish i knew why.

red bo!

check it:
red bull's showing some criterion love, using a jimmy cliff diddy from the harder they come for their new flugtag tv spots.

Big Girls Need Love Too

Despite the fact that both delve into explicitly sexual thematic content, Catherine Breillat's "A ma Souer!" ("Fat Girl") has very little in common with "Fatty Girl," rapper Ludacris' 2001 paean to badonkadonks. While the latter is laden with overtly sexual chitter-chatter that would make for awkward car rides to Sunday mass with my parents when I was riding in the back seat and too far away from the radio to change the station, I could always bank on the fact that they at least wouldn't always be able to decipher Luda's many euphemisms for tush and bush. A ma Souer! leaves far less to the imagination.

This movie is basically about literally the worst m'er'effing family vacation in the history of western civilization. The main character is thirteen year old, Anais, who spends her vacation getting crapped on by the world and drowning her sorrows in man-sized servings of ice cream. She spends a large portion of the movie doggy paddling in a lonely swimming pool in a one-piece that's regrettably two sizes too small, and role playing make-out scenarios with the diving board. Her parents are distant, if well meaning, and her sister is a burgeoning ho-fo-sho. You breathe a sigh of relief for her towards the end of the movie when the family packs up the Volvo and heads home, but somehow things manage to get even worse from there.

If you're like me, you'll go into this movie thinking back fondly on your favorite donks and the electric energy and moral dubiousness of early Ludacris. But you'll leave with a tummy too full of raisinettes and a hollow feeling in your wiener. And isn't that really the mark of good filmmaking? In a word, no.

everybody really dies

skateboarding, murder, subway restaurants. a dangerous combination, but gus van sant has carefully thrown them all together in his latest film, paranoid park.

van sant really gets busy on this one. the music would make you look cool if you played it at a party and the images are sam perkins smooth. it just has a really new vibe to it. watching this movie 15 years from now, you'll curl a little smile and say to yourself, 'wow this is so 2008', and then you'll clone yourself and make it wash your dishes.

as you probably know by now, the lead is a no-name actor (as is most of the cast, which was mostly picked off of myspacebook) gabe nevins. kinda fun fact: the 16 year old nevins never read the script and learned his lines on the spot. every now and then, nevins reminded me of the incessant nose scratcher in dazed and confused in the worst way possible.

last thing worth noting is that there's a shower scene that is so ill, i'm sure someone's going to put it up on youtube.