Change Your Image
Todorojo-1
I remember seeing "Easy Rider" and "Harold & Maude" back to back when I was eleven years old.
In high school, I worked at a mom 'n pop video store when mom n' pop stores still existed. I did very little side work other than vaccuuming and light dusting. The rest of the time, I had my feet kicked up on the counter, my ass planted in a seat and a package of Red Vines in my lap. I watched title after title after title after title.
I have no formal education. I have never taken a film class at a college or university. But I know what I'm talking about and have since the night I saw that double-feature in my livingroom.
Reviews
Crash (2004)
Good guys and bad guys...
The outrage surrounding this picture is again created by people who, though they have every right to their strong opinions, simply cannot grasp the truth behind the meaning. If you haven't lived a chunk of the many lives beautifully portrayed in this tight little film, its going to miss your exit and take you into unfamiliar territory. Many, if not most people go to the movies for the simple entertainment value, where as others go in order to seek out something familiar and often painful within themselves. The former movie goer is eager to see something where there are good guys and bad guys and despite seemingly insurmountable odds, the good guy prevails at the last moment, creating a perfect circle of meaning and the ultimate satisfaction that good triumphs over evil; a happy little package with a perfectly tied bow. The latter film-goer however, comes in with the understanding that life, or at least a brief glimpse into people's lives, is a linear event, often not turning out in happy endings or even providing endings at all. It is with this understanding that the viewing of this film must be undertaken. Prepare yourself to initially misunderstand or even hate a character and then suddenly kick yourself for having been so short sighted. Like the real lives that people live every day, this film either runs through your neighborhood or is just another unfamiliar place that you never would have known to exist.
Magnolia (1999)
Some folks just don't get it.
The funny thing about this picture is the number of people, especially industry people who came out of the woodwork to hate it. Who cares if the ensemble cast is fantastic? Who cares if the script is riveting and bloody raw with a certain truth? Who cares if it was carefully written and directed by someone with only two features under his belt? The fact is that you either understand this story or you don't. Many of us come from families torn asunder by the bits and pieces of scrap metal sucked into the engines of our childhood and thusly causing a fiery crash of sorts as adults. many of us try to hate parents who phoned in their responsibilities or never bothered to make the call at all. From the perspective of someone in the position to forgive or to ask some sort of forgiveness from friends, family or complete strangers, this film drives one straight down the fairway. There are parts of each of us in the characters portrayed here and they are each at once worthy of both pity and scorn. It seems that the rift this film creates is that those who dislike it, may not have lived within the coincidences it poses. Where as with those of us who did like the film, loved it and saw within it the reflections of our own stories which cause it to be true and painful and as solid as bone.
Slumdog Millionaire (2008)
Spoon-fed Millionaire
Is there anyone else that this self-serving schlock missed so badly with? It seems obvious to me that Mr. Boyle, having missed every time with western audiences thought that he could cash in with the Bollywood crowd and score himself some Rupees for his overdue retirement party. To make such an unrealistic, manipulative film and simply label it a "fairy tale" is an insult to every well-written fairy tale ever penned and to use (and I emphasize the word "use") the residents of these slums in such a manner that undermines their abject poverty is boo worthy. Danny Boyle should be booed for having tried to manipulate so many people's emotions with such flaccid trash. Stop bandwagoning this miserable piece of sub-art, Slumdog apologists and cultivate yourself an objective opinion. The emperor is wearing no clothes, ladies and gentlemen and his name is Danny Boyle.
Road House (1989)
You'll want to skip this roadside attraction...
This movie sucks on so many levels that you'd need bottled oxygen to reach the summit of its inequity. So let's just stick with the foundation upon which this heap of wasted stock is precariously perched, shall we? First and foremost, the acting is terrible. I haven't experienced such horrible chemistry since I mixed ammonia and bleach inside of my mouth to celebrate the release of "Grease 2". Patrick Swayze takes himself way too seriously and is right at home overacting amidst a veritable nontourage of also-rans and the cinematic versions of fighters who've taken and will continue to take dive after dive after dive. The overtly sexual/seduction scenes are awkward and clumsily unsexy, employing generous arm loads of bad music, bad lighting, bad hairdos and bad costumes and should serve as an embarrassment to Ben Gazzara and Sam Elliott, the only two "real" actors that the production allowed considering the money that was probably spent to cash in on the popularity of, and then equip the bayou bandits and bumpkin bad guys with, Big Foot, the monster truck that, at the time was bringing yokels, hillbillies and morons alike together in some of the finest third-tier arenas across the country for car crushing entertainment at it's very best. And at only ten bucks a ticket. Mercy sakes alive! Though I'm not a fan, I'd like to give the film's best performance to The Jeff Healy Band and their grand, but futile efforts to breathe some life into rhythm and blues tunes best left to their creators and the past masters like Clapton, Jeff Beck, etc. However, appearing in this heap of dung makes them no better than the maggots and larvae that squirm throughout the entire mess. Boo to everybody involved in Rowdy Herrington's Road House. Boo. Boo. Boo.
Can't Stop the Music (1980)
Someone please stop the music...
Boy, where to start? My memory might fail me, but how about Steve Gutenberg rollerskating down the streets of New York, dancing to his transistor radio and wearing his corduroy OP short shorts and an Izod shirt with the collar flipped up? The mirroring camera "tricks" are sophomoric and silly, and the entire sequence sets the tone for the implausible film that follows. I wouldn't be surprised if that scene took months to film as Gutenberg was probably beaten up a multitude of times and they needed to splice together bits and pieces of footage. It isn't exactly Rocky running through the warehouse district of Philly, is it? No... No it's not. How about the brilliant decision to cast Bruce Jenner, fresh off the crowd-pleasing performance on a box of Wheaties? The best moments of the film are of the Village People following closely behind Jenner in his bare midriff t-shirts with cozy little smiles on their faces. Not even Jenner's classic method acting style was enough to help the rest of the cast rise to the ankle-level material here. I seem to recall a scene where they decide on a name for the band... "Hey... We're all from the Village, so why not The Village... PEOPLE?" Then the Village Person dressed as the Indian chief showed his approval by employing the classic Indian war call; hooting while popping his hand over his mouth. I nearly fell out of my chair.
And what about the fellow who comes to the band "try-outs" with the flaming batons? I think there was a message in there somewhere...
This film is hysterical for a million different reasons and therefore, a complete failure. Surely a must-see in order to provide acute awareness of the bad taste high-water mark.
Zardoz (1974)
Zardumb...
Okay, so this one has some camp value. But even the laugh-ability of Sean Connery dashing about the sound stage in a cloth diaper doesn't make this any more watchable. The opening sequence with the giant floating head is absurd, everyone. In an era that gave us "Logan's Run", "Star Wars" and "Rollerball", this film is a rotten apple at the bottom of the barrel. Yet so many people want to defend it for the message it tries way too hard to convey or just to somehow protect Connery from what is without question the low-point of his career. I'd like to see him interviewed about it today... I'd bet he'd punch Katie Couric right in the nose.
If it weren't for "Can't Stop The Music", this would be the big laugher of the decade.
Rad (1986)
Blinded by the bike...
This movie is so sloppy, it needs to wipe. It seems to me that every comment submitted for this movie was written from the perspective of a jilted boyfriend with no self esteem. "Sure, she treated me like dirt, used me for the meager earnings I made at the Food Mart and left me for my step dad, but I love her." This movie is terrible. It should be described as The Karate Kid lite on BMX bikes. The direction is sloppy and the acting as shallow as the kiddie pool full of schmucks that try oh so poorly to defend it without a shred of objectivity. Anyone who makes it through this heap of hooey more than once, much less bought a copy has signed their own indictment for bad taste. The scene with female lead riding into the dreamy dance sequence while doing those crazy bike tricks is the worst body double since the stand-in for Jennifer Beals in "Flashdance." But at least the Beals stand-in was female. The biker in this groaner of a sequence is clearly a guy in a wig. This alone condemns this film to the C bin. If you want to see some terrific BMX riding without the myriad of pap that this movie doles out with such artless abandon, I suggest a trip to the documentary aisle.