Sorry for the long absence. College adjustments.
When Generation X is popped up in the film industry, we think of:
Richard Linklater's 1991 experimental comedy-drama Slackers;
that Singles movie;
Reality Bites;
the first two films of Wes Anderson (Bottle Rocket and Rushmore);
Quentin Tarantino pre-Kill Bill;
Robert Rodriguez back when he made violent films with a purpose;
the cult followings of films like Santa Sangre (which is a fine black comedy/satire about Christian ministry that works very well as a slasher) and The Wild Bunch (just The Wild Bunch);
and the emergence of Todd Solondz, Jim Jarmusch, and Tom DiCillo.
Some people might add, "olo you forgot about the height of the SNL movie" and in someways, I did. For example, Wayne's World is one of the greatest comedies filmed mainly due to its innovative use of fourth wall obliteration, injokes to the original SNL/Second City skit, and amazing performances on part of Mike Myers and Dana Carvey. Plus, it parodied in a nutshell every cliche and fault that Gen X had.
But, they might say, "what about Chris Farley's films?" Most of them are forgettable. Black Sheep - unfunny comedy with lame set-ups for gags, an uneven use of the Chris Farley/David Spade duo, and just plain Crosby/Hope at their WORST. Almost Heroes - not Chris Guest's best. His lowest point. Beverly Hills Ninja - just the same stuff you expect in every Farley film but with an Asian theme (and a more obese version of Surf Ninjas).
However, there's another film that, to half of the notorious major film critics, is about as forgettable as those films. However, in filmmaking circles, SNL circles, and people devoted to the underrated talents of Chris Farley, Tommy Boy is an immortal classic that becomes more and more relevant to this day. To me, before I knew good filmmaking from bad, I knew Tommy Boy had something very special in it. Was it the fact that Farley wasn't plodding along the film as some sort of irredeemable jerk or could it be that David Spade was finally funny in this? Could it be the shocking amount of drama that had a point? Could it be that the film made you feel happy and made you root for Tommy, even if he's portrayed as some slacker ass?
The answer, to me, is yes, yes, yes, yes.
Now, when I saw it recently, I had read the AMG review and the Roger Ebert review about this film - both praised certain aspects of the film while bashing the rest, especially the bulk of the comedy. AMG's right when they say that Tommy Boy is occasionally funny - it's supposed to be. It's a comedy-drama (and, in a few cases, a black comedy) where you cannot laugh to scenes like Tommy realizing that his father's dead or that he's a failure or that his "mother" betrayed him so she could sell his auto parts company to Dan Aykroyd. Ebert's right when it comes down to the fact that Rob Lowe's character is the only three-dimensional character in the traditional sense. It hearkens back to Frank Capra days, when all your great heroes were just representations of American ideals (George Bailey, Jefferson Smith, "John Doe") and not really fleshed out in the modern sense. And yet, Ebert's not blasting Mr. Smith Goes to Washington for being flat or It's a Wonderful Life for being insulting and horribly outdated (save for its story and moral).
When I saw, I didn't see it in the traditional eye I usually saw it in - the eye that this is an underrated comedy - but I saw it through the eye of every critique known to man.
I saw the faults - they did NOT need the 10 joke in there when they introduced Bo Derek.
I saw the praise - Tommy was indeed correctly translating what David Spade was saying about the brake pads (quicker reaction time due to better chemical reactions and material in the pads themselves).
I also saw how Capra-esque Tommy was: the "worthless" hero placed in an alien world he somewhat knows about (from sources that aren't that educational) but has to find his voice in order to get his way and get through this place without killing himself or destroying the ideals he stands for in the first place.
I also saw why David Spade was a jerk - he's an easily-insulted "bastard" who looks up to Tommy's dad and merely wishes to be like Tommy (like Owen Wilson in another one of my favorite films, The Royal Tenenbaums). Plus, when Tommy hears the bad news, he doesn't go off into an alcoholic spell like Spade. Tommy is unselfish, grateful, and very resilient. He has hope. He's the embodiment of the human spirit - crazy, hilarious, enlightened, hopeful.
That's why I love Tommy Boy. Sorry to throw out the Film Brain way of critique on this in a few parts, but I saw it necessary. And plus, in this horrible economy with conglomerates buying out people (fuck you, Charles Bluhdorn) and placing them in destitute situations, Tommy Boy becomes a testament as to how the average American can get through life without focusing on the bad things.
It's definitely a lot less dated than It's a Wonderful Life, that's for sure.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
lolrant
Not much a rant here, but I'll try to make sense of it.
I've been analyzing the highly infamous furry webcomic Concession for any other value besides exploitation and, after pondering on it for quite a while, I came up with an interpretation that might shock everybody, including the comic's creator Immelmann.
What if the comic is a darkly satirical black comedy aimed at the furry fandom and the movie industry?
I know it's a cop-out to name "black comedy" and "movie industry", as Immy has deviated away from those terms into disturbing dramatic story arcs and exposes about college (and family life), but the comic still retains those concepts from time to time. Even the darker subplots seem cheesy - there's something up with this type of humor. You know, where you have humor that constantly falls flat, but it's still funny nonetheless?
That's why I view Concession as a satire myself. Here's how I interpret it:
1. In the comic's history (and info page), furfags were always persecuted by humans for pretty much no reason besides their hairy bodies. Due to this, despite laws designed to give furs more protection and, eventually, freedom, humans (and scalies aka anthro snakes and small dinos with legs and arms) don't interact with furs. However, in the comic's early history, such a level of national "fursecution" was fake. All has been attributed to Immy's lack of talent when it comes to drawing humans. And the furs - they're supposed to be discriminating among themselves based on the level of sexuality. As in the early comics, the main character Nicole had a nice school life - in the new revisionist history, Nicole was discriminated for acting girly. Not by religious nutjobs - no such people exist in Concession's college town. By others. Artie Crowley types. And the only "love-all-serve-all" character is Joel aka the jerkface who wants to kill everybody.
In that view, I propose that Immy is making fun of fursecution and religious LGBT persecution. He doesn't believe in fursecution, as evidenced by the lack of fursecution in the comic. He claims that if any furries get persecuted, it's either out of a joke and that it's not persecution at all. He does not believe that religion is out to get all gays, lesbians, bis, and trannies - he believes we're against each other just because we're different.
2. The plotlines scream out webcomic. A lot. It's Immy's reply to every webcomic he has gotten tired of - hell, even Bill Holbrook's seminal furry comic (now in syndication in the AJC) "Kevin & Kell" is getting pretty low. Immy just saw it ahead of me. He's making fun of every love arc, every "boy-gets-superpowers" arc, and every arc that you've seen Rudy, Fiona, and the others in.
3. It's so over the top. Both sexually and through its dialogue. Nobody would dare say or do the things Matt has done to Joel just because of one infidelity - Matt, by all accounts, is overreacting like crazy. There are many furry comics from back in the day that are over the top. You know, where the only way to escape from life is through yiffing. Lots and lots of it. Every character has sex (save for David the panda boss, Julian aka Joel's even worse bro, and Miranda aka Joel's dead sister) - even the ones who make fun of others based on sex life. Artie even has a few sex scenes with a few flings in his life. And don't forget the constant fan service of seeing Matt and Joel bang each other.
4. Its metaphysics, I believe, is based on drug hallucinations. That makes me question whether or not Joel and Artie even have powers in the first place - I know they have people they can't forget due to a few accidents, but as I observed in Artie's newest love arc storyline (not the one with Millicent), Artie is mainly at fault for his dolphin girlfriend's death. So, from that (and from the major explosion of Dolphin City that Artie helped cause), I propose that Miranda and Melusine do not exist. Instead, they have become William Parcher and Charles Herman to Joel and Artie, respectively. They are a desire for companionship, whether it would be through a familiar or mutual means of doing so. They both represent controlling factors in each other - jealousy in Joel, love in Artie - driven by faults in their past - Joel's bro Julian got the inheritance to his dad's media conglomeration company, Artie's a virtual orphan raised by his preoccupied grandmother. I think Joel and Artie derive their visions from hallucinogens and marijuana - which I think that's where Immy gets his inspiration from.
Also, judging by how much people don't mention Artie (other than Dave, but he's a bit strange), I think that Artie probably died from his cancer - that could mention why he's sleeping with Millicent. Otherwise, Millicent (even under Joel's "possession") would have refused him - he was underneath her when he was manager at the movie theater's concession stand. That could also mention the trippy sequences when he sees Melusine talking to him via dreams - could he be living in his own personal heaven...a heaven where he finally overtakes Joel by a million miles and takes the glory?
5. God, the fanbase is so stupid. They love to interpret everything so literally. I, for one, am one of those guys who sees more than just a black comedy about mass media, LGBT liberation, and fursecution. How Immy can interact with those cretins is beyond me.
And plus, they love to imagine their characters as done by Immy. Immy does Immy - he's doing your characters because he's tired to drawing picture after picture of Artie sodomizing Nicole, who's giving Roland some head. You know - stuff that he does to make fun of fan service.
I bet Immy's amused by all of this.
At least it's not a terrible comic.
I've been analyzing the highly infamous furry webcomic Concession for any other value besides exploitation and, after pondering on it for quite a while, I came up with an interpretation that might shock everybody, including the comic's creator Immelmann.
What if the comic is a darkly satirical black comedy aimed at the furry fandom and the movie industry?
I know it's a cop-out to name "black comedy" and "movie industry", as Immy has deviated away from those terms into disturbing dramatic story arcs and exposes about college (and family life), but the comic still retains those concepts from time to time. Even the darker subplots seem cheesy - there's something up with this type of humor. You know, where you have humor that constantly falls flat, but it's still funny nonetheless?
That's why I view Concession as a satire myself. Here's how I interpret it:
1. In the comic's history (and info page), furfags were always persecuted by humans for pretty much no reason besides their hairy bodies. Due to this, despite laws designed to give furs more protection and, eventually, freedom, humans (and scalies aka anthro snakes and small dinos with legs and arms) don't interact with furs. However, in the comic's early history, such a level of national "fursecution" was fake. All has been attributed to Immy's lack of talent when it comes to drawing humans. And the furs - they're supposed to be discriminating among themselves based on the level of sexuality. As in the early comics, the main character Nicole had a nice school life - in the new revisionist history, Nicole was discriminated for acting girly. Not by religious nutjobs - no such people exist in Concession's college town. By others. Artie Crowley types. And the only "love-all-serve-all" character is Joel aka the jerkface who wants to kill everybody.
In that view, I propose that Immy is making fun of fursecution and religious LGBT persecution. He doesn't believe in fursecution, as evidenced by the lack of fursecution in the comic. He claims that if any furries get persecuted, it's either out of a joke and that it's not persecution at all. He does not believe that religion is out to get all gays, lesbians, bis, and trannies - he believes we're against each other just because we're different.
2. The plotlines scream out webcomic. A lot. It's Immy's reply to every webcomic he has gotten tired of - hell, even Bill Holbrook's seminal furry comic (now in syndication in the AJC) "Kevin & Kell" is getting pretty low. Immy just saw it ahead of me. He's making fun of every love arc, every "boy-gets-superpowers" arc, and every arc that you've seen Rudy, Fiona, and the others in.
3. It's so over the top. Both sexually and through its dialogue. Nobody would dare say or do the things Matt has done to Joel just because of one infidelity - Matt, by all accounts, is overreacting like crazy. There are many furry comics from back in the day that are over the top. You know, where the only way to escape from life is through yiffing. Lots and lots of it. Every character has sex (save for David the panda boss, Julian aka Joel's even worse bro, and Miranda aka Joel's dead sister) - even the ones who make fun of others based on sex life. Artie even has a few sex scenes with a few flings in his life. And don't forget the constant fan service of seeing Matt and Joel bang each other.
4. Its metaphysics, I believe, is based on drug hallucinations. That makes me question whether or not Joel and Artie even have powers in the first place - I know they have people they can't forget due to a few accidents, but as I observed in Artie's newest love arc storyline (not the one with Millicent), Artie is mainly at fault for his dolphin girlfriend's death. So, from that (and from the major explosion of Dolphin City that Artie helped cause), I propose that Miranda and Melusine do not exist. Instead, they have become William Parcher and Charles Herman to Joel and Artie, respectively. They are a desire for companionship, whether it would be through a familiar or mutual means of doing so. They both represent controlling factors in each other - jealousy in Joel, love in Artie - driven by faults in their past - Joel's bro Julian got the inheritance to his dad's media conglomeration company, Artie's a virtual orphan raised by his preoccupied grandmother. I think Joel and Artie derive their visions from hallucinogens and marijuana - which I think that's where Immy gets his inspiration from.
Also, judging by how much people don't mention Artie (other than Dave, but he's a bit strange), I think that Artie probably died from his cancer - that could mention why he's sleeping with Millicent. Otherwise, Millicent (even under Joel's "possession") would have refused him - he was underneath her when he was manager at the movie theater's concession stand. That could also mention the trippy sequences when he sees Melusine talking to him via dreams - could he be living in his own personal heaven...a heaven where he finally overtakes Joel by a million miles and takes the glory?
5. God, the fanbase is so stupid. They love to interpret everything so literally. I, for one, am one of those guys who sees more than just a black comedy about mass media, LGBT liberation, and fursecution. How Immy can interact with those cretins is beyond me.
And plus, they love to imagine their characters as done by Immy. Immy does Immy - he's doing your characters because he's tired to drawing picture after picture of Artie sodomizing Nicole, who's giving Roland some head. You know - stuff that he does to make fun of fan service.
I bet Immy's amused by all of this.
At least it's not a terrible comic.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Fireproof
I'm a Christian.
I'm quite proud of the man they call Jesus Christ and what he's done.
I also believe that he's quite an individual himself, going with the people to see what they like.
I also believe that God is not the smiting, society-hating deity that every pastor makes us want to believe.
I believe, consequently, that the Trinity will watch and appreciate Pulp Fiction not only for its satirical look at the crime world, but also for its sharp humor, its shocking drama, and the fact that it's a lot better than watching those "Christian" movies that are more about exploitation than they are about telling the truth about religion in general.
I also believe that God can watch, will watch, and appreciate every other amazing R and NC-17 rated film for its values and morals, not for what you think it's about. I think he will put them on equal terms with film classics, beautifully-shot family films, and the filmography of Wes Anderson.
I believe that God would enjoy Fireproof as much as he could have if it were better filmed, better produced, better written, and better acted.
Sadly, it's not any of those things. It not only comes across as one of the most unoriginal marriage dramas ever written, it comes across as making the Christian church quite arrogant in its propagation of Baptist theology, anti-individualism, and just plain ignorance.
However, it does have a good story - man and woman argue over man's desires and man has to calm down, so he tries to until realizing that maybe it's a little bit better to be a little more spiritual and more self-cleansing than to do the same shit over and over. Sadly, the film makes us believe that it's the Christian church that can only save you. Yes, I believe in God and Christ Jesus, but I also believe that the film is not so real. I believe that the Apostle Paul was a bit hypocritical when he added more laws (i.e. the Biblical No Cussing Club, no joking about God, no fags) that seemed more Old Testament than New Testament. I believe that this film is a bit ham-fisted and corny when it tries to tell us about Christ, especially the scene where Kirk Cameron's stereotypically bad-boy character goes with his dad to a park and sees a cross. Days after that, I began to think: "What if ol' Caleb was gonna be crucified?" So I imagined it. Dude, the whole point of salvation is to get saved in any place you can, not just a place where Christian icons are. It's not Greece - you're not Zach Galifianakis. And plus, you don't have his sexual curiosity. You're married. You aren't supposed to fap like that everyday.
And how they got away with that in a PG film. Yes, I believe in a very liberal MPAA system, so it's OK for them. But to show this to kids on how to be a better Christian? This is a marriage drama, not fucking Annie Hall. Kids can't last on hot sauce drinking contests alone. There's PG movies kids can't understand. This is one of them.
And plus, the hot sauce competition has no point in the film other than defining Caleb as an asshole. Yeah, Kirk Cameron plays a good asshole. If only he would stop overacting every time he does so. And plus, no realism in a marriage drama? No hard-hitting realism other than "hey look the doctor Erin Bethea's flirting with is cheating on his wife"? What do we get? Coney Bomb and absence of profanity. Dude, you're in a fucking fire station. They're gonna curse like crazy on the job. Well, not at the car accident, but you know, when they're fighting fires! God, Backdraft is more realistic than this!
I just don't like this film. The message has potential, but how they carry it out is just plain wrong. Plus, getting non-talented actors isn't a good way to make an indie film. Hell, even Jim Jarmusch and Alejandro Jodorowsky know how to make those films, especially the latter. He's been making Christian satires since El Topo.
/rant
I'm quite proud of the man they call Jesus Christ and what he's done.
I also believe that he's quite an individual himself, going with the people to see what they like.
I also believe that God is not the smiting, society-hating deity that every pastor makes us want to believe.
I believe, consequently, that the Trinity will watch and appreciate Pulp Fiction not only for its satirical look at the crime world, but also for its sharp humor, its shocking drama, and the fact that it's a lot better than watching those "Christian" movies that are more about exploitation than they are about telling the truth about religion in general.
I also believe that God can watch, will watch, and appreciate every other amazing R and NC-17 rated film for its values and morals, not for what you think it's about. I think he will put them on equal terms with film classics, beautifully-shot family films, and the filmography of Wes Anderson.
I believe that God would enjoy Fireproof as much as he could have if it were better filmed, better produced, better written, and better acted.
Sadly, it's not any of those things. It not only comes across as one of the most unoriginal marriage dramas ever written, it comes across as making the Christian church quite arrogant in its propagation of Baptist theology, anti-individualism, and just plain ignorance.
However, it does have a good story - man and woman argue over man's desires and man has to calm down, so he tries to until realizing that maybe it's a little bit better to be a little more spiritual and more self-cleansing than to do the same shit over and over. Sadly, the film makes us believe that it's the Christian church that can only save you. Yes, I believe in God and Christ Jesus, but I also believe that the film is not so real. I believe that the Apostle Paul was a bit hypocritical when he added more laws (i.e. the Biblical No Cussing Club, no joking about God, no fags) that seemed more Old Testament than New Testament. I believe that this film is a bit ham-fisted and corny when it tries to tell us about Christ, especially the scene where Kirk Cameron's stereotypically bad-boy character goes with his dad to a park and sees a cross. Days after that, I began to think: "What if ol' Caleb was gonna be crucified?" So I imagined it. Dude, the whole point of salvation is to get saved in any place you can, not just a place where Christian icons are. It's not Greece - you're not Zach Galifianakis. And plus, you don't have his sexual curiosity. You're married. You aren't supposed to fap like that everyday.
And how they got away with that in a PG film. Yes, I believe in a very liberal MPAA system, so it's OK for them. But to show this to kids on how to be a better Christian? This is a marriage drama, not fucking Annie Hall. Kids can't last on hot sauce drinking contests alone. There's PG movies kids can't understand. This is one of them.
And plus, the hot sauce competition has no point in the film other than defining Caleb as an asshole. Yeah, Kirk Cameron plays a good asshole. If only he would stop overacting every time he does so. And plus, no realism in a marriage drama? No hard-hitting realism other than "hey look the doctor Erin Bethea's flirting with is cheating on his wife"? What do we get? Coney Bomb and absence of profanity. Dude, you're in a fucking fire station. They're gonna curse like crazy on the job. Well, not at the car accident, but you know, when they're fighting fires! God, Backdraft is more realistic than this!
I just don't like this film. The message has potential, but how they carry it out is just plain wrong. Plus, getting non-talented actors isn't a good way to make an indie film. Hell, even Jim Jarmusch and Alejandro Jodorowsky know how to make those films, especially the latter. He's been making Christian satires since El Topo.
/rant
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
What I see as stagnant Hollywood
Hollywood to me is not dead.
Sure, I don't like the recent 3D faggotry as much as the next guy and I don't approve of all the pulp-ish books getting adapted into these $100 million films that waste the talents of the young people involved - and I don't approve of people applying revisionist history upon movie making, claiming that movies like Forrest Gump and It's a Wonderful Life are really some of the most miserable ever made due to their happy endings and positive morals and because the characters seem a bit outdated as compared to Peter Warne (Clark Gable's reporter from It Happened One Night) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel Jackson's Christian hitman from Pulp Fiction). To me, the only honest filmmakers happen to be the ones either succeeding normally but gaining every positive review or the ones who are failing yet gaining the same reviews.
This has some eerie, but strangely predictable coincidences to the period of transitional Hollywood before the mass experimentation in the New Wave era (1967-1979) - that era, ranging from 1960 to 1966, had massive experimentation with a dying technology (3D), these useless widescreen epics that got lukewarm critical acceptance, and a lot of experimental films that virtually were ignored.
That's pretty much it. Oh, and we had the musical, thought that's more lively and original.
Adaptations galore, mostly not good.
If we need to continue the adaptation, let's adapt some good stuff, like Pynchon novels and furry comics - because at least totally alienating our audience will cause Hollywood to revive itself in a fit of catering to the new audience.
Sure, I don't like the recent 3D faggotry as much as the next guy and I don't approve of all the pulp-ish books getting adapted into these $100 million films that waste the talents of the young people involved - and I don't approve of people applying revisionist history upon movie making, claiming that movies like Forrest Gump and It's a Wonderful Life are really some of the most miserable ever made due to their happy endings and positive morals and because the characters seem a bit outdated as compared to Peter Warne (Clark Gable's reporter from It Happened One Night) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel Jackson's Christian hitman from Pulp Fiction). To me, the only honest filmmakers happen to be the ones either succeeding normally but gaining every positive review or the ones who are failing yet gaining the same reviews.
This has some eerie, but strangely predictable coincidences to the period of transitional Hollywood before the mass experimentation in the New Wave era (1967-1979) - that era, ranging from 1960 to 1966, had massive experimentation with a dying technology (3D), these useless widescreen epics that got lukewarm critical acceptance, and a lot of experimental films that virtually were ignored.
That's pretty much it. Oh, and we had the musical, thought that's more lively and original.
Adaptations galore, mostly not good.
If we need to continue the adaptation, let's adapt some good stuff, like Pynchon novels and furry comics - because at least totally alienating our audience will cause Hollywood to revive itself in a fit of catering to the new audience.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Wow. Just wow.
I need to confess: I love Chris-chan. You've heard this in my earlier post about Nashville and how I compared the immortal prose stylings of Sueleen Gay to the Internet's biggest loser since that guy who tried to argue against the death of some Sonic the Hedgehog character as something that ruins the integrity of the original series - yet, I want to elaborate of this hopeless man.
You see, Chris-chan is really Christopher "Christian Ricardo" Weston Chandler, a 28-year-old (at the time of this post) Alan Moore wannabe who thinks he's all that, which makes him try to propagate his opinion on the Internet, albeit very horribly. I mean very, very horribly. It's not that his attempts are bad - they're more along the lines of "so-bad-it's-good" - it's the fact that he expects you to put him upon the pantheon of talented artists, including Leonardo da Vinci, Rob Liefeld (who should be crucified for his attempts at discontinuity), Brian Gonterman, and "casey64". Yes, I named three not-so-great artists as "talented" - that's because, despite their mediocrity, they can make something original and do something with it.
Chris just cannot.
He has successfully blended together the worlds of Pokemon and Sonic the Hedgehog into this slapdash, hackneyed, eye-boggling, and downright confusing (more so than Pynchon, Joyce, Roth, etc.) universe called "Sonichu". Yes, that comic. Sonichu the electric hedgehog Pokemon. Who speaks pretty articulately (despite most rules in Pokemon, not counting Team Rocket Meowth). Who bangs his Amy Rose knockoff "Rosechu" every damn comic. And makes fun of everything in this utterly random style that would make Tom Green and Ornette Coleman cringe. To their deaths. In Hell.
Why am I talking about this suck-up on the Internet when you have a whole Encyclopedia Dramatica page and a wiki devoted to him?
Because I have seen a film, while albeit depressing and actually well-made for the filmmaker's first attempt (thank for for being influenced by Werner Herzog), that not only shows us how bad Chris-chan types can be, but how expensive they can get.
And I'm not talking about using your parents' credit cards to buy video games. I mean using your life savings to set up a storage building and setting up a full-scale animatronic rock band from a pizza place that you consider more highly than Chuck E. Cheese's in there. Now that's some messed-up stuff going on.
That's pretty much the purpose of the 2008 documentary The Rock-afire Explosion.
__________________
Don't get me wrong - I love nostalgia. I love it when I have family members who can relate to those times. I have family members who recall when the Chuck E. Cheese's up in Norcross used to be a Showbiz Pizza back in the day. I can recall going to Chuck E. Cheese's three times in my life - once when I was past 13. God, the pizza's so good and games are pretty fun. Not so crazy about the animatronics there - they don't program Chuck E. to sing "Lizstomania" or "Feelin' Stronger Every Day" while he scratches on the turntables - but the interactive blue screen thing is pretty fun when you're young. Now, it's not so fun unless if you can act like Cary Grant in front of a crop duster.
Of course, I'm a bit of a Showbiz Pizza fanatic. Don't get me wrong - I will never be a Chris Thrash type - but I love nostalgia. That's why I wanted to buy some merchandise from the store - like a Showbiz mug with Billy Bob voring Looney Bird and being beaten up by Mitzi Mozzarella and Dook Larue. Like a Martin Scorsese film for Disney, only written by vore fetishists and Aaron Fechter.
However, what unnerves me about this documentary is that I'm given three uber-fans of Showbiz and one casual fan (like me, if I was a girl and more prettier than Gael Garcia Bernal in Bad Education). The uber-fans get more screen time, especially balding Mountain Dew fanatic Chris Thrash. He doesn't earn much - he works at a skate rink and a car dealership in Phenix City, AL (I have passed through there on my way to Panama City/Destin and it's pretty much barren) - yet somehow he has accumulated this merchandise, a Billy Bob walk-around costume, and the entire Rock-afire Explosion in his carefully controlled warehouse behind his pretty small house. And he has a wife. How does she deal with this?
The bulk of the documentary, thankfully, is not so much on Chris Thrash and the elitist uber-fans (though it feels like it) as much as it is on Aaron Fechter's foray into capitalism and temporary fame. This documentary has caused me to respect Mr. Fechter for what he's done (he is behind Randy Pausch, who is my most influential non-family person) and his boldness to talk about how he's been duped by the system just for maintaining a DIY punk ethic when it comes to his animatronic rock band. It's especially depressing when watch the scenes where he gives you the tour of his factory and the eerie disrepair it has gone under because of managerial neglect over the past 20 years. Tools are still in their original places on the artisans' benches the day they were fired. Animatronics are melting. A repository of '80s sound equipment collects dust (though I want some). And why? He knows somebody wants it. I don't blame him.
If the trailer actually focused on Fechter's struggles and not on the uber-fans freaking out over the Rock-afire (though they are more realistic when it came to foreseeing the future of the band), then maybe I would've included this on my great movies list.
However, despite a good A-, meh. It's no The Devil and Daniel Johnston. I'm not buying that final Rock-afire anytime soon. More importantly, where would I put it?
Now those are some lucky Chris-chan types. CWC needs to learn from them - they're nerdy, they have obsessions, but they get the ladies. And pretty hot ones too. Hell, even Fechter has a nice wife. He's Supernerd.
You see, Chris-chan is really Christopher "Christian Ricardo" Weston Chandler, a 28-year-old (at the time of this post) Alan Moore wannabe who thinks he's all that, which makes him try to propagate his opinion on the Internet, albeit very horribly. I mean very, very horribly. It's not that his attempts are bad - they're more along the lines of "so-bad-it's-good" - it's the fact that he expects you to put him upon the pantheon of talented artists, including Leonardo da Vinci, Rob Liefeld (who should be crucified for his attempts at discontinuity), Brian Gonterman, and "casey64". Yes, I named three not-so-great artists as "talented" - that's because, despite their mediocrity, they can make something original and do something with it.
Chris just cannot.
He has successfully blended together the worlds of Pokemon and Sonic the Hedgehog into this slapdash, hackneyed, eye-boggling, and downright confusing (more so than Pynchon, Joyce, Roth, etc.) universe called "Sonichu". Yes, that comic. Sonichu the electric hedgehog Pokemon. Who speaks pretty articulately (despite most rules in Pokemon, not counting Team Rocket Meowth). Who bangs his Amy Rose knockoff "Rosechu" every damn comic. And makes fun of everything in this utterly random style that would make Tom Green and Ornette Coleman cringe. To their deaths. In Hell.
Why am I talking about this suck-up on the Internet when you have a whole Encyclopedia Dramatica page and a wiki devoted to him?
Because I have seen a film, while albeit depressing and actually well-made for the filmmaker's first attempt (thank for for being influenced by Werner Herzog), that not only shows us how bad Chris-chan types can be, but how expensive they can get.
And I'm not talking about using your parents' credit cards to buy video games. I mean using your life savings to set up a storage building and setting up a full-scale animatronic rock band from a pizza place that you consider more highly than Chuck E. Cheese's in there. Now that's some messed-up stuff going on.
That's pretty much the purpose of the 2008 documentary The Rock-afire Explosion.
__________________
Don't get me wrong - I love nostalgia. I love it when I have family members who can relate to those times. I have family members who recall when the Chuck E. Cheese's up in Norcross used to be a Showbiz Pizza back in the day. I can recall going to Chuck E. Cheese's three times in my life - once when I was past 13. God, the pizza's so good and games are pretty fun. Not so crazy about the animatronics there - they don't program Chuck E. to sing "Lizstomania" or "Feelin' Stronger Every Day" while he scratches on the turntables - but the interactive blue screen thing is pretty fun when you're young. Now, it's not so fun unless if you can act like Cary Grant in front of a crop duster.
Of course, I'm a bit of a Showbiz Pizza fanatic. Don't get me wrong - I will never be a Chris Thrash type - but I love nostalgia. That's why I wanted to buy some merchandise from the store - like a Showbiz mug with Billy Bob voring Looney Bird and being beaten up by Mitzi Mozzarella and Dook Larue. Like a Martin Scorsese film for Disney, only written by vore fetishists and Aaron Fechter.
However, what unnerves me about this documentary is that I'm given three uber-fans of Showbiz and one casual fan (like me, if I was a girl and more prettier than Gael Garcia Bernal in Bad Education). The uber-fans get more screen time, especially balding Mountain Dew fanatic Chris Thrash. He doesn't earn much - he works at a skate rink and a car dealership in Phenix City, AL (I have passed through there on my way to Panama City/Destin and it's pretty much barren) - yet somehow he has accumulated this merchandise, a Billy Bob walk-around costume, and the entire Rock-afire Explosion in his carefully controlled warehouse behind his pretty small house. And he has a wife. How does she deal with this?
The bulk of the documentary, thankfully, is not so much on Chris Thrash and the elitist uber-fans (though it feels like it) as much as it is on Aaron Fechter's foray into capitalism and temporary fame. This documentary has caused me to respect Mr. Fechter for what he's done (he is behind Randy Pausch, who is my most influential non-family person) and his boldness to talk about how he's been duped by the system just for maintaining a DIY punk ethic when it comes to his animatronic rock band. It's especially depressing when watch the scenes where he gives you the tour of his factory and the eerie disrepair it has gone under because of managerial neglect over the past 20 years. Tools are still in their original places on the artisans' benches the day they were fired. Animatronics are melting. A repository of '80s sound equipment collects dust (though I want some). And why? He knows somebody wants it. I don't blame him.
If the trailer actually focused on Fechter's struggles and not on the uber-fans freaking out over the Rock-afire (though they are more realistic when it came to foreseeing the future of the band), then maybe I would've included this on my great movies list.
However, despite a good A-, meh. It's no The Devil and Daniel Johnston. I'm not buying that final Rock-afire anytime soon. More importantly, where would I put it?
Now those are some lucky Chris-chan types. CWC needs to learn from them - they're nerdy, they have obsessions, but they get the ladies. And pretty hot ones too. Hell, even Fechter has a nice wife. He's Supernerd.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Introduction and Nashville (1975)
Welcome to my blog.
More specifically, welcome to the part of the Internet where I can get my ego out and blatantly force you to watch movies that I find intriguing, but don't call me Chris-chan. Ebert, [Armond] White, and [Cole] Smithey do it all the time. They avoid the more well-known films (Taxi Driver, Gone with the Wind, Elephant, North by Northwest) just because people know them way too much.
But this is where I get to air out my opinion. You see that my film taste isn't going to be extremely mature, but who gives a damn about idiosyncrasies and their conception of it? What is my taste is my taste. You can influence it, but you sure as hell won't make me change my taste just because you think Snatch is the best film in the history of the world. That's something that people call conformity - and that ain't such a good thing, isn't it? Conformity is the reason why so many estimated blockbusters are failing - but something else is happening other than audiences learning to appreciate the finer things in life. That "something else" is discontentment with the studios.
You see, the studios are advertising the living shit out of blockbusters by placing advertisements all over the TV. For example, 20th Century Fox had the smart idea to adapt a mediocre and highly obscure comic strip, "Marmaduke", hire Owen Wilson to milk his celebrity (even though it died after his 2007 suicide attempt) via voicing the main character, and advertising it all over the kids' networks with dancing dogs and Kesha blaring all over what appears to be California, land of hackneyed Hollywood plots. I knew from there it was going to be a failure. And I was right - failure.
But, hey. I don't want to bore you with my ego-fueled whining about Hollywood - it's going to go into a neo-New Hollywood stage very shortly. We just reached our equivalent of the late 1950s, with widescreen comedies and 3D exploitation.
Here's what I consider to be a masterpiece of the silver screen: Robert Altman's 1975 satirical black comedy musical Nashville, starring Ned Beatty, Lily Tomlin, Geraldine Chaplin, and David Carradine's bro Keith.
___________________________________________________________________
Everybody has to have a film they consider to be the greatest of all time.
For most, it happens to be Orson Welles' innovative classic Citizen Kane, with spectacular performances, a tight script, and some great camera effects that nobody had used before (particularly the "submissive" shot).
For a few, it's one of the great classic epics of the '30s, '50s, and '60s, ranging from Victor Fleming and George Cukor's stylish and well-written Gone with the Wind to William Wyler's overwrought, but well-acted and well-designed Ben-Hur - and usually ending with Lawrence of Arabia (a film I need to see so badly) from the Cinerama days of the '60s.
For a very select few, it's a Wes Anderson film. I can see why - with his unique way of looking at things via epic-like set design and indie film humor this side of Jim Jarmusch, people are attracted to the anti-hipster's dry, darkly comic, and satirical morality tales of the decaying nuclear family in the world through the eyes of death, divorce, ambition, and mid-life crises (Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Fantastic Mr. Fox). I personally am a Wes Anderson fanboy - I grew on to dry humor after finding that a lot of my favorite comedies weren't all about fart jokes but about trying to change the world.
For me, it's Nashville. Why? Why pick a film that was only a moderate box-office success compared to that of the first blockbuster, Jaws? Why pick a film that, according to another blogger, has some of the poorest character development this side of The Hangover? Why pick a film that more critics understand than most audiences?
Why?
Because people need to see this. It's about time we took away Charlie Kane's crown and gave it to Barbara Jean and those other 23 odd characters all residing in the "Music Capital of the World" - even through some poor character development and politics that seem to be heavily influenced by youthful idealism and anti-intellectualism if anything, we can get how tough and how horrible the entertainment industry is, especially when you compare it to something as dishonest as the political industry. Sure, it seems like a preachy film, but it's far from that. It's not a full comedy also. If anything, it's a satirical musical drama about America. Except being set on a Broadway stage with bimbos carrying oversized coins and singing Bonnie Parker's favorite song, it's set in Nashville - where everybody's supposed to feel at home.
That is, if they weren't so self-absorbed with themselves...especially Sueleen Gay, the funniest thing in the film.
Sure, her act at the political rally remains one of the most disturbing moments caught on film (safety, nitrate, digital) with her rather unarousing striptease and how, despite suffering imminent public embarrassment, she still has this pride that she's better than the admittedly talented (and insane) Barbara Jean, but her attempts at becoming a singer remind me of an Internet "celebrity" that most people know as Chris-chan. Her off-key, tone-deaf, and horribly composed lyrics reminds me (and possibly "Anons" who have seen this film) of how Chris tries to make it big but cannot because whatever he thinks he's good at - he's really not good. Or OK. He is shit poor.
And so is Sueleen.
Another aspect of the film I love is the music. To be honest, I'm no fan of country music, but I do listen to some here and there - and whatever people claim is horrible might be horrible, but I see a sort of hidden satire through those neverending lyrics about Kenny Chesney engaging in menage a trois with a hillbilly girl and a piece of farming machinery (harvesters, tractors, motorcycles, Jeeps) while having multiple orgasms to Jimmy Buffett's greatest hits. I see people making fun of how cliched music has become - especially the Nashville scene. That's what Henry Gibson as proto-Lee Greenwood/Haven Hamilton does in this film. Oh, and Keith Carradine as every rock star put together with the promiscuity of a furry being charged for pedophilia. Yep, "200 Years" might sound like some overwrought bullshit that somebody wrote so they can suck America dry, but it does a damn fine job making it pretty apparent.
And that's the end of that chapter.
More specifically, welcome to the part of the Internet where I can get my ego out and blatantly force you to watch movies that I find intriguing, but don't call me Chris-chan. Ebert, [Armond] White, and [Cole] Smithey do it all the time. They avoid the more well-known films (Taxi Driver, Gone with the Wind, Elephant, North by Northwest) just because people know them way too much.
But this is where I get to air out my opinion. You see that my film taste isn't going to be extremely mature, but who gives a damn about idiosyncrasies and their conception of it? What is my taste is my taste. You can influence it, but you sure as hell won't make me change my taste just because you think Snatch is the best film in the history of the world. That's something that people call conformity - and that ain't such a good thing, isn't it? Conformity is the reason why so many estimated blockbusters are failing - but something else is happening other than audiences learning to appreciate the finer things in life. That "something else" is discontentment with the studios.
You see, the studios are advertising the living shit out of blockbusters by placing advertisements all over the TV. For example, 20th Century Fox had the smart idea to adapt a mediocre and highly obscure comic strip, "Marmaduke", hire Owen Wilson to milk his celebrity (even though it died after his 2007 suicide attempt) via voicing the main character, and advertising it all over the kids' networks with dancing dogs and Kesha blaring all over what appears to be California, land of hackneyed Hollywood plots. I knew from there it was going to be a failure. And I was right - failure.
But, hey. I don't want to bore you with my ego-fueled whining about Hollywood - it's going to go into a neo-New Hollywood stage very shortly. We just reached our equivalent of the late 1950s, with widescreen comedies and 3D exploitation.
Here's what I consider to be a masterpiece of the silver screen: Robert Altman's 1975 satirical black comedy musical Nashville, starring Ned Beatty, Lily Tomlin, Geraldine Chaplin, and David Carradine's bro Keith.
___________________________________________________________________
Everybody has to have a film they consider to be the greatest of all time.
For most, it happens to be Orson Welles' innovative classic Citizen Kane, with spectacular performances, a tight script, and some great camera effects that nobody had used before (particularly the "submissive" shot).
For a few, it's one of the great classic epics of the '30s, '50s, and '60s, ranging from Victor Fleming and George Cukor's stylish and well-written Gone with the Wind to William Wyler's overwrought, but well-acted and well-designed Ben-Hur - and usually ending with Lawrence of Arabia (a film I need to see so badly) from the Cinerama days of the '60s.
For a very select few, it's a Wes Anderson film. I can see why - with his unique way of looking at things via epic-like set design and indie film humor this side of Jim Jarmusch, people are attracted to the anti-hipster's dry, darkly comic, and satirical morality tales of the decaying nuclear family in the world through the eyes of death, divorce, ambition, and mid-life crises (Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Fantastic Mr. Fox). I personally am a Wes Anderson fanboy - I grew on to dry humor after finding that a lot of my favorite comedies weren't all about fart jokes but about trying to change the world.
For me, it's Nashville. Why? Why pick a film that was only a moderate box-office success compared to that of the first blockbuster, Jaws? Why pick a film that, according to another blogger, has some of the poorest character development this side of The Hangover? Why pick a film that more critics understand than most audiences?
Why?
Because people need to see this. It's about time we took away Charlie Kane's crown and gave it to Barbara Jean and those other 23 odd characters all residing in the "Music Capital of the World" - even through some poor character development and politics that seem to be heavily influenced by youthful idealism and anti-intellectualism if anything, we can get how tough and how horrible the entertainment industry is, especially when you compare it to something as dishonest as the political industry. Sure, it seems like a preachy film, but it's far from that. It's not a full comedy also. If anything, it's a satirical musical drama about America. Except being set on a Broadway stage with bimbos carrying oversized coins and singing Bonnie Parker's favorite song, it's set in Nashville - where everybody's supposed to feel at home.
That is, if they weren't so self-absorbed with themselves...especially Sueleen Gay, the funniest thing in the film.
Sure, her act at the political rally remains one of the most disturbing moments caught on film (safety, nitrate, digital) with her rather unarousing striptease and how, despite suffering imminent public embarrassment, she still has this pride that she's better than the admittedly talented (and insane) Barbara Jean, but her attempts at becoming a singer remind me of an Internet "celebrity" that most people know as Chris-chan. Her off-key, tone-deaf, and horribly composed lyrics reminds me (and possibly "Anons" who have seen this film) of how Chris tries to make it big but cannot because whatever he thinks he's good at - he's really not good. Or OK. He is shit poor.
And so is Sueleen.
Another aspect of the film I love is the music. To be honest, I'm no fan of country music, but I do listen to some here and there - and whatever people claim is horrible might be horrible, but I see a sort of hidden satire through those neverending lyrics about Kenny Chesney engaging in menage a trois with a hillbilly girl and a piece of farming machinery (harvesters, tractors, motorcycles, Jeeps) while having multiple orgasms to Jimmy Buffett's greatest hits. I see people making fun of how cliched music has become - especially the Nashville scene. That's what Henry Gibson as proto-Lee Greenwood/Haven Hamilton does in this film. Oh, and Keith Carradine as every rock star put together with the promiscuity of a furry being charged for pedophilia. Yep, "200 Years" might sound like some overwrought bullshit that somebody wrote so they can suck America dry, but it does a damn fine job making it pretty apparent.
And that's the end of that chapter.
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