The Room Is On Fire And She's Fixing Her Hair

Some people say you get what you pay for, some say you get what you asked for, and still others say you get what you deserve. I'm not sure which category this particular scenario falls under, but at the end of the day I am happier as a result. I am referring to my viewing of The Room. A few weeks ago I stumbled upon an article which described this movie as the Citizen Kane of bad movies. Well, that's like telling a fat person there's chocolate in the next room, or yelling "Kool-Aid!" in the middle of a trailer park. It's was instantly irresistible. Oh, hi Mark.

I'll just say up front that I now consider this the worst movie ever made, but I loved every minute of it. This movie is bad in so many ways, it seems to invent movie conventions just to screw them up. Bad acting? Check. Mind numbing dialog? Check. Actors missing their marks? Check. Plot lines abandoned? Check. Inexplicable scenes? Check. Framed photo of a spoon? Check.

This movie is so bad that one is tempted to think it may be intentional, until you realize that several million dollars went into the making of this film, and that director/writer/producer/main star Tommy Wiseau is just as brain addled outside of the film as in it. You'd also be hard pressed to see where the money was spent, certainly not on professional actors. Maybe that football was autographed by someone famous.

So the plot, as it were, revolves around Tommy and his girlfriend/fiancee/wife(?) Lisa and their rocky relationship. Mark, Tommy's best friend, is sleeping with Lisa. There is also a teenage boy named Denny who apparently wants to watch Tommy and Lisa have sex, to which Tommy seems rather unconcerned. Speaking of sex scenes, there are a few of them sprinkled throughout, and they may very well be the most unerotic ever committed to film. Lisa is not attractive, and Tommy looks like Howard Stern crossbred with Arnold Schwarzenegger. There are also numerous disembodied moans that clearly do not come from either of them. Denny hiding in the closet perhaps?

Other characters include Lisa's mother, who informs her early in the movie that she has breast cancer, and then it's never mentioned again; Lisa's sister, who likes to have sex in Lisa's house rather than her own and who finds her sister's affair comical instead of hurtful; and Tommy's other friend Peter, who appears to be a psychologist or psychiatrist.

The movie is full of disjointed scenes that have no setup or payoff, and make little sense even within themselves. The scene where Mark, Tommy, Denny, and Peter toss a football around in tuxedos immediately spring to mind. Are they getting ready for Tommy's wedding? Who knows, as it is left unexplained. Why are they only standing three feet apart whilst tossing the ole pigskin? When asked that question in an interview, Wiseau said that was not a goof and that everyone should try it. Another scene involves Denny and a drug dealer. There is no indication beforehand that Denny is in any kind of trouble, and no mention of these events afterward either. The scene does introduce the gun that will come into play at the end, and it gives us this wonderful bit of dialog: Denny: I owe him some money. Lisa: What kind of money? Denny: I owe him some money. Lisa: What kind of money? There is also the "Oh, hi Mark," scene, which has no setup whatsoever, but is pure hilarity:



At some point in the movie Tommy goes to buy some flowers for Lisa, as he is still unaware of her fornicating with Mark, and to the fact that she is a straight up bitch. No worries though, because we are about to see what happens when two actors speed read their lines and throw coherency out the window:



Eventually Tommy gets wise to Lisa and Mark's canoodling, or does he. This all depends on which scene you are watching. He seems to figure it out when he sees the two of them making out at his party, and we get this fantastic scene full of pathos:



Later on though, he feels the need to hook up a tape recorder to the phone to record their conversations. Hitting the record button and leaving it running, it still manages to capture a conversation hours later. So many things inexplicable about this: Just how long is a cassette tape? Why does it not record any other phone conversations? Does a normal cassette player have the ability to be hooked up to a phone? It is all proven moot anyway as he can clearly hear the conversation taking place behind a thin bathroom door.

I'll not spoil the ending for you. Suffice to say it certainly left me wanting more. I hope Wiseau makes another movie of the same caliber someday, although he will be hard pressed to top this one. In many ways, this is his Citizen Kane. He hit one out of the park, as it were, on his first try. It may be all downhill for him from here on.

Transmission out.

Stupid is as Stupid Does

So I just watched Ernest Scared Stupid, and this should tell you a couple of things. One, I must really love to watch bad movies. Two, I clearly lead an exciting life. The movie itself is one out of close to five thousand Ernest movies cranked out by Jim Varney during the 1980s and 1990s. I admit that I enjoyed his commercials for Mellow Yellow back in the day, but when it comes to his movies, lets just say a little Ernest goes a long way. I will preface this review by stating that kids under eight may enjoy this movie, or those who may not be playing with a full deck. As an adult however, the movie is subpar. Its not really bad enough to consistently laugh at, and certainly not good enough to really enjoy. Although where you fall in this range will depend greatly on your tolerance for Varney's rubber faced antics.

Once again we have a troll popping up to menace a small community of morons (see my earlier reviews of Troll and Troll 2). It seems this troll was trapped in the root system of a tree a hundred years ago or so by one of Ernest's ascendants after it tried to eat some kids or some shit like that. Ironically, but not surprisingly, Ernest himself is prophesied to be the one to release the troll. This happens when Ernest helps three kids build a tree house in the very tree the troll is under. They clearly don't notice or care that the tree looks like a giant hand coming out of the ground, or that the entire area is covered with scary movie ankle fog. My Mom always told me that tree houses were gateways to the netherworld, but until I saw this movie I had no reason to believe her. I expect a call from her at any moment with an "I told you so."

So the troll is released, and Ernest finds out from a creepy old woman who lives nearby that it must capture five children by Halloween night in order for it to unleash its army of trolls. This old woman is played by Eartha Kitt, who once upon a time played Catwoman. You'd have to look pretty hard to see how that ever happened, what with her eyebrows looking like a pair of Yosemite Sam's upper lip. Anyway, Ernest is on the case, which means of course that five children are captured and turned into small wooden statues in short order. The troll itself looks like Billy Barty from the Masters of the Universe movie, if he had face herpies and was constantly being tea bagged.

After roughly an hour and ten minutes of screen time, the adult morons in the community finally realize that Ernest has been telling the truth about the troll running amoke in their podunk town. They promptly follow him out to the tree to kill the troll, but wouldn't you know it, they are too late to stop the army of short people wearing badly designed rubber masks. Luckily the kid morons have figured out that the trolls' one weakness is milk. Once again we see lactose intolerance tip the scales in an interspecies war. Soon all but the head troll have been destroyed. He has slipped back under the ground to plead with the demons to make him invincible. Do trolls have a soul to sell? I'll ask my ugly-ass cousin the next time I run into her. Anyway, why the troll didn't do this to begin with is left unexplained, and too much of my brain has already been put to use writing this review to investigate further. So it emerges from the ground, and when he gets squirted with milk (I'll hold off on the porn jokes at this time), we get this wonderful piece of dialog, "I've grown too strong for that. Not even milk can stop me now."

Suddenly, Ernest is reminded of another part of the prophesy that the troll can only be killed with unconditional love. So the climax of the film is Ernest hugging the troll. That's what kills it. A hug. A fucking hug. Could someone explain to me how that is unconditional love, hugging something knowing that by doing it you're going to reduce it to a pile of green glop that looks like hospital food? Anyway, Ernest saves that day, and all the adult morons love on their kid morons, and everyone forgets that it was Ernest who set the damn thing free to begin with. He's like Gilligan, but without the island or a potentially gay, fat man bossing him around. Here's the climax of the movie, if you'd like to save yourself the hour and a half.



Transmission out.

Happy F#@king Life Day

OK, so it has been awhile since my last post. I've been pretty busy lately and updating this blog has sort of been put on the backburner. Also, most of the movies I've watched recently have been pretty good, with the exception of the atrocious Transformers 2. A brief rundown of that movie, before I move on to the main course. A transformer with big ears, a gold tooth, and urban dialect, John Turturro's worst acting since the last Transformers movie, inane "comedy," convoluted plot with holes big enough to drive Optimus Prime through, and a transformer with balls. That's right, balls. Yet these things pale in comparison to the simmering pile of shit that was the Star Wars Holiday Special. This is what I will talk you through today.

It is a testament to the popularity of Star Wars following its release that a holiday special was conceived and aired a full year after it initially hit theaters. This would likely not happen today, given the very short turnaround of films from theaters to home video. This was a movie that had posters hung up in theaters still showing the movie a year later with a photo of a birthday cake and 1 candle atop it, surrounded by Star Wars action figures. I would go so far to say that this will never happen again. Yet the biggest testament to Star Wars' popularity was the fact that people still went to see The Empire Strikes Back after the Holiday Special aired. Surely people thought George Lucas had gone off his nut after witnessing what is easily the worst two hours of television ever broadcast.

The "special," and I use that word in the loosest possible sense, opens with Han Solo and Chewbacca evading a couple of Star Destroyers, as Han is attempting to get Chewie to his family on Kashyyk for "Life Day," sort of the wookiee equivalent of Christmas. Enjoy this moment, for it is all downhill for the next two hours. Not even Harrison Ford can make this stuff bearable.

Most of the time is devoted to the home of Chewbacca, where we are introduced to his wife, his son, and his father. Chewbacca's dad is pretty damn creepy looking, particularly when it appears he is on the verge of pleasuring himself while watching a holographic performance of Donna Summer singing. I told you it was bad. Art Carney plays a shop keeper sympathetic to the wookies' predicament, as their planet is under Imperial rule. His acting here is so rank that it would run a junkie out of a crack house. His main function to the plot seems to be to merely provide others with holographic chips containing "performances" from the likes of Summer, Jefferson Starship, and some weird-ass ballet troupe. Each of these is worse than the last.

Harvey Korman pops up, as a fembot teaching people how to cook on television. He also appears in the sequence with Bea Arthur, who runs a cantina. You heard me. When she breaks into song, a little part of you will die. It is almost enough to ruin the actual cantina scene from Star Wars. In fact, I'll have to watch the cantina scene again just to make sure. Hopefully I won't be looking in the background for someone who looks like Bea Arthur.

People who have seen this "special" often point out that it's best part is the 10 minute or so cartoon in the middle, featuring the first appearance of Boba Fett. Don't be taken in by such shenanigans. Aside from getting to see Boba Fett a full year and a half before his appearance in Empire, this cartoon is just as big of a turd as the rest of it. The animation is perhaps the worst I have ever seen, and the story is nonsense.

Just as the "special" is wrapping up, and you think the worst is behind you, it pushes that prison shank just a little bit deeper into your flesh, as Carrie Fisher begins to sing. Carrie Fisher should never, ever, ever sing. Ever.



If this review is not enough to keep you away, I have a word of advice. Make sure you and your friends watch this together, as you will not want to have to endure it more than once. Remember, there is safety in numbers.

Transmission out.

Fairies Wear Boots

I recently read an article that discussed the cult following of a movie called Troll 2, and that claimed many who watched it swore that it was the worst movie ever made. So of course I immediately requested that Netflix send it to me. As a bonus, the disc also included the original Troll. It truly says something when the original can be called a better film. Once the disc arrived, I invited some friends over to share in the joy of some truly awful cinema.

I quickly realized that I had seen at least parts of the original several years ago, likely on TNT's MonsterVision hosted by Joe Bob Briggs (At some point I'll write about that fantastic show). Anyway, the plot revolves around a family of four moving into an apartment building that just happens to be the home of a troll, a witch, Sonny Bono, and Andy from WKRP in Cincinnati. The little girl wastes no time getting into mischief, and very quickly the troll possesses/assumes her form in order to gain the trust of the other tennants. Why, you ask. So that he may turn people into plants. Not ordinary plants, mind you, but plants that sprout other trolls, fairies, and various other diminutive bastards that look like the mistakes of a druken night of passion between Dr. Ruth, the Garbage Pail Kids, and the Ghoulies. There is probably some sort of metaphor or life's lesson in the scene where Sonny Bono is turned into a plant, but I didn't pick up on it.

The older brother soon realizes that his sister is even more obnoxious than usual, and in trying to figure out what is going on, befriends a woman (played by June Lockheart, the mother from Lassie) who turns out to be a witch. Did I mention that the boy's name is Harry Potter? Anyway, for some inexplicable reason she waits until the third day of funny goings on to tell him he had only three days to save his sister and keep the troll from turning the apartment complex into a fairy universe. Could've used that information, oh, I don't know, three days ago!!

Once the boy finds his sister and the witch congratulates him on defeating the troll, even though he did nothing to bring this about, his family piles into a car with only a box of stuff and some laundry detergent, and makes their escape. Apparently the cops were uninterested in asking them why they were the only ones to live through the ordeal, or in perhaps offering a more plausible explanation than "they were all turned into plants." Oh well. And by the way, easily the most frightening part of the movie is watching Michael Moriarty ( the original DA from Law & Order) dance around his living room to rock and roll. It should shame white people everywhere from ever dancing again.

So now we move on to Troll 2, the piece de resistance, which of course has virtually nothing to do with the first movie other than the presence of trolls. As I said earlier, some people are inclined to call this the worst movie ever made. While I certainly agree it is among the worst, I find it difficult to remove that crown from atop Plan 9's head. There remains, however, more than enough to laugh at. Everything about this movie is bad, from the acting to the dialog, from the special effects to the makeup, and from the directing to the plot. Just as many other bad movies, all these wrongs add up to a dreadfully hilarious right.

The movie opens with a young boy in his bed being told a story by his grandpa, a story that one assumes at first to be fantasy. An unfortunate traveler stumbles upon a group of trolls, who force him to eat food covered in bright green slime. As a result, the man turns into green gelatinous goo, which the trolls hastily devour. Did you follow that? Good, because that is the crux of the entire movie. What is not explained is how the grandpa knows about these trolls, or how he is able to relay this story to his grandson, since the old man is dead. Perhaps the boy is merely worked up because his family is about to travel to a sleepy little burg and take part in a family home swap with a family of yokels for a month. There is also no explanation as to how these two families hooked this up, particularly since this is pre-internet.

Wouldn't you know it, but this sleepy little burg just so happens to be the kingdom of said trolls, a sleepy little burg called Nilbog. I'll give you a minute to figure it out. If you still don't know, I'll clue you in later. One of the funniest moments of the film occurs when the boy and his family are traveling to Nilbog. There has been some arguing in the van, and so the mom decides to break the tension by yelling at her son, "Joshua, start singing. Come on, sing that song I like so much!" At which point he starts an in-the-round of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Why the hell she can't remember the name of the song is beyond me.

I should point out here that the family is not the only group traveling to Nilbog. Joshua's sister's boyfriend and three of his pals are on their way there in a winnebago. It seems Holly and her beau Elliot think it will be easier to "go all the way" out in the woods rather than back in her room. It's this contrivance that gives us the character Arnold and one of the film's funniest lines. Shortly after arriving, and having parked the winnebago in the woods, Arnold goes for a walk. He soon stumbles upon a pretty blonde girl running for her life from a group of trolls, or should I say, a bunch of extras wearing the shittiest makeup and costumes I think I've ever seen in a film. Anyway, the two of them run for their lives, but not, ironically back to the winnebago. Instead they find themselves at a building that from the outside appears to be a church, but on the inside is a cross between a hooker's bedroom and Dr. Frankenstein's lab. There they meet Creedence Leonore Gielgud, who we soon find out is the queen of the trolls, although at this point she is in human form. She offers them something to drink, something that has massive amounts of fog, smoke, or steam rising from its surface. So of course the girl takes a big gulp and instantly starts to excreet green slime out of her skin. Once she turns into a big pile of green goo, the trolls descend upon her. Arnold, who continues to stand in one spot despite things clearly taking a turn into some fucked up shit, merely exclaims, "They're eating her...and then they're going to eat me...OH MY GOOOOOOD!" Welcome to amature hour.

Another one of Elliot's buddies heads into town to get some food. Along the way he is given a ride into town by Sheriff Gene Freak. I kid you not. Once at the store, the boy looks around only to find numerous half-gallon cartons of milk, oddly unrefrigerated. When he asks for some coffee, the creepy man behind the counter who needs no makeup to look like a troll yells "There's no coffee in Nilbog. It's the devil's drink!" At this point in the movie I start making a mental checklist in my head of what to keep on hand should I ever have a run-in with trolls. Later that day Joshua and his dad arrive at the same store, only to find it closed. Joshua sees the town's sign in the rear-view mirror and realizes "Nilbog! It's goblin spelled backward!" Of course, no one in his family believes him at this point, as they all seem oblivious to the bizarre behavior of the local yokels.

Soon enough though, it all comes to a head. One of the trolls is set on fire by a lightning bolt from dearly departed grandpa, and when the dad puts him out with a fire extinguisher, the man's true troll form is revealed. Later that night, grandpa and Joshua infiltrate Creedence's lair, where they have to "concentrate" on the rock in the center of the room. It seems the rock, a piece of Stonehenge itself, is the source of the troll's power. What they have to "concentrate" on, however, is as much of a mystery as Stonehenge. At this point the grandpa tells Joshua that he is about to be called back to the land of the dead or something, but gives Joshua a backpack, telling him not to open it until he really needs it. How he is supposed to know when he will need it when he doesn't even know what's in it? It could be something that will help him defeat the trolls, or it could be a bag full of condoms for when Joshua goes off to college.

Where is Creedence Leonore Gielgud during all this, you ask? She's at the winnebago with Elliot's remaining friend. She seduces him by waving an ear of corn around her body. They get comfortable and both begin to bite on the ear of corn simultaneously as popcorn suddenly begins to fill the rv. One assumes that this friend is also about to become troll food, but when she exits, he is shown to be ok, minus some butter stains on his shirt. Completely inexplicable.

Creedence arrives back home, along with the other trolls, and encircle Joshua, who seems to have failed in his mission to stop them. But as we all know, it is always the darkest just before the dawn. He suddenly remembers the backpack, given to him all those long minutes ago. He opens the pack, and pulls out...a double decker bologna sandwich. He takes a bite of it, and Creedence is clearly distraught, "Aaagh! Think about the cholesterol! Think about...THE TOXINS!" Just like that, problem solved.

I'll leave it to you, dear readers, to discover exactly how the movie ends. Lets just say the bologna sandwich may not have been the cure-all it at first appeared to be. I have to say, despite the complete and utter ineptitude of everyone involved in this film, I enjoyed this movie far more than Terminator: Salvation, which I saw on the same day. Here's the trailer, if you are still not convinced.



Transmission out.

My Radiation Baby (My Teenage Fallout Queen)

Where do I begin with a movie like Nymphoid Barbarian in Dinosaur Hell? I suppose I'll start with the opening scenes, if for no other reason than to try and provide some sense of logic to the proceedings. We find out through a voice-over that a war lasting but a day, whose instigator remains unknown, has destroyed humanity as we know it. Nuclear fallout (?) has mutated animals as well as people, and civilization is at a prehistoric state. Our title character lets us know that she lives in a dinosaur hell, although there are really no dinosaurs. She also tells us that "Sometimes my juices start to flow, and I feel like a nymphoid," even though she has sex with no one, doesn't seem particularly interested in sex, and is topless for perhaps three seconds during the course of the movie. If you like the sound of her voice, soak it in here, because she barely speaks through the rest of the film.

The "plot," if you will, revolves around her man trying to rescue her from Clon and his band of lizard-men. Clon looks like a cross between the Kurgan from Highlander, a whino, and 1980s Cher. Judging by the condition of his teeth, I would say he is British. His lizard henchmen look like a poor man's version of the sleestaks.

With little in the way of dialog, the action is forced to carry the load, and it has the spine of someone suffering from scoliosis, rickets, and brittle bone disease. Early on in the film the nymphoid is attacked by three men, whom she initially fends off simply by twirling a wet towel over her head. Throughout the course of the film so many people are hit upside the head with tiny branches you'd think the big bad wolf was stalking them. And would someone please explain to me why people who clearly have lived in this environment for some time, manage to fall down so often. It's like watching the last few hours of a frat party. But the best action comes toward the end, when Clon engages in a duel for the ages with this guy whom I will call Leatherface. Leatherface has been helping the nympoid since she escaped from Clon's clutches, and is putting his life on the line to protect her. For roughly ten minutes of screen time, these two titans go at each other with the believability and the ferociousness of a second-grade school play. I won't bother to tell you how it ends. That is for you to suffer through.

As a side note, the music is done by The Astral Warriors. The name would suggest at least cheesy cool, but alas, no. It appears that the band or group had only one keyboard to share, and a musical repertoire of exactly four notes.

I give you the trailer, for anyone morbidly curious:



Transmission out.

Arnold Layne

I have seen several thousand films in my life, and many of them were terrible. It's not that I have trouble spotting a turkey beforehand, only that I tend to pursue them with glee. There have been only a handful of movies I've seen where the awfulness snuck up on me ( I'm looking at you, Godzilla and Armageddon). In my quest to lay witness to the worst movies ever made, I have certainly seen many that qualify. These include the Billy Ray Cyrus action pic Radical Jack (in which the audience must endure a scene where he pours water over himself and his mullet in slow motion), the Italian/Mexican/Spanish zombie movie City of the Walking Dead (where the end of the movie is just the first 15 minutes of the beginning repeated), the 80s horror movie The Invisible Maniac (his escape scene in particular), 1970s free love movie Feeling Up (in which a man climbs over top of the camera sans underwear), and of course, Ed Wood's Plan 9 From Outer Space, labeled by many as the worst movie ever made. Until yesterday, I would have agreed. But then I saw Wood's other infamous movie, Glen or Glenda. The mind reels.

I'm not even sure if I can adequately describe what I watched last night. It almost defies description. One could describe the movie as Wood's call for tolerance for transvestitism, something he found within himself. Yet that description doesn't describe probably 50% of the movie, as much of it seems to have nothing to do with anything.

The first six or seven minutes is just stock footage of traffic moving along a highway and people walking up and down city streets, intercut with, or superimposed over, shots of Bela Lugosi as "The Scientist," reciting lines such as "People...all going somewhere...all with their own thoughts...with their own ideas...with their own personalities." He also takes the time to mix a few beakers of liquid in his laboratory, and exclaims "The source of all life," as smoke rolls out of one. These things, however, seem normal in comparison to what unfolds later.

The actual "story" begins as police are called to the scene of a suicide of a transvestite. In an attempt to understand where this person was coming from, the police inspector visits a psychiatrist familiar with the condition. The inspector is supposed to be sympathetic to the victim, but at one point refers to them as "a four time loser." Anyway, the psychiatrist then tells the story of Glen, who also dresses like a woman and is called Glenda. Glen is played by none other than Wood himself, for whom the role was semi-autobiographical. His conundrum is whether or not to tell his fiance about his habits before the marriage or after.

It's at this point when the movie ceases to be comprehensible. The stock footage of traffic is repeatedly shown, along with Lugosi reciting lines such as "Pull the string! Pull the string!" all while superimposed over shots of stampeding buffalo. Then it gets really weird. What follows is easily the most bizarre stuff I've seen this side of a David Lynch movie. It's easier to just show you than to try and describe it.



To top it all off, the last 10 minutes or so is another story entirely, although still narrated by the psychiatrist. Wood still manages to include massive amounts of stock footage, only this time it's WWII instead of heavy traffic.

Plan 9 From Outer Space may still be the worst acted movie, and possibly the most unintentionally funny, but Glen or Glenda is far more convoluted and strange. If it were any other director, I might accept that these devices were intentional, an internal mechanism to echo Wood's own struggles with transvestitism. But this is Ed Wood, full of earnestness and desire to make great movies, yet lacking in almost any skill to actually create them. Yet what is great about his movies, besides the "so bad it's good" quality, is that his earnestness is so very palpable on the screen. If only we all had the courage to strive for greatness, even if we know we may never attain it.

Oh, and by the way, this has to be one of the creepiest things I've ever seen.


Transmission out.

Little Old Lady From Pasadena

So yesterday I rewatched another movie that I found amusing as a twelve-year-old boy, Moving Violations. Released in 1985, it was written and directed by the same man who did Police Academy. While this should tell you everything you need to know, I will nonetheless continue. The movie "stars" John Murray (Bill's younger brother), who does more mugging for the camera than a group of thugs working a corner bus stop. He, along with a group of other 1980s familiar faces, including Brian Backer (Mark Ratner from Fast Times), Wendie Jo Sperber (Michael J. Fox's sister in BTTF), and Nedra Volz, the housekeeper from Diff'rent Strokes (not Mrs. Garrett or the fat, manly one who looked at everyone like they were a piece of chocolate cake), all find themselves in traffic school for, you guessed it, moving violations. In said traffic school, they of course face off with a nasty police officer who has been demoted to this position in part because of the antics of Murray. Murray is supposed to be mischievious but funny, but instead he just comes across as a dick (think his brother Bill's turn as Bob, but without the psychosis). He is easily the least funny part in a movie that struggles enough for laughs. You know you're sailing in dangerous waters when the funniest part comes late in the movie, as Nedra Volz's character tells everyone they should "rip his nuts off," referring to their unscrupulous instructor. If you are having a hard time picturing her, here is a photo.
Clara Pellar, of "Where's the beef?" fame, has a cameo as Volz's friend or sister. Her main scene includes what is either an on-screen heart attack by Pellar or the world's most painful (and disturbing) orgasm. Not even Fred Willard can make this a good movie, his talents wasted by the fact his biggest laugh is supposed to come from hypochondriac Sperber mistaking him for a doctor when he is in fact a mechanic, and she winds up nude on a car lift in his garage.

Overlooked in this movie is the fact that most of these people really shouldn't be driving. Hell, Volz's character mistakes a dog for Pellar, her eyesight is so bad. To make it even more ludicrous, the postscript in the movie indicates that Murray's character had to attend traffic school 5 more times, and that in frustration, the city made him the instructor!! And now, nobody fails! I'd love to see the accident statistics in that city. Anyway, I feel that I have taken another bullet for the viewing public out there who may have been tempted to watch this movie. If I haven't persuaded you yet, maybe the actual trailer for the movie will.



PS - If I never have to see Sally Kellerman in a leather bondage outfit again, it will be too soon.

Transmission out.

"What's the Use of Getting Sober (When You Gonna Get Drunk Again)?"

Saturday night I found myself in the eye of a very surreal hurricane. A friend of mine had come for a visit, and after several hours and an unmeasurable amount of alcohol, he was hammered, shit faced, blotto, 3 sheets to the wind, and every other conceivable expression for being drunk off your ass. This particular friend is already prone to outrageous, crude, and off-color remarks, even when he is sober, but get him worked up, and watch his ability to internalize comments play out like the little Dutch boy. What better activity to engage him in than making him watch The Villain, that 1979 ode to live action pratfalls and stiffer acting than one would have thought humanly possible. Featuring an all-star cast of Kirk Douglas, Ann-Margaret, and Arnold Schwarzenegger, this "comedy"-western really only has one redeeming quality, and that is the cleavage of Ann-Margaret. To call this movie a tragedy would be a disservice to movies that actually aspire to be so. You know when Paul Lynde is playing a Native American chief, you're in trouble. (I should add a caveat here. It is possible that this movie was made for a younger audience, as it plays like a Roadrunner-Coyote live-action cartoon, only with less plausibility. If that is the case, perhaps the movie works on some base level, although it does not explain the constant close-ups of Ann-Margaret's barely contained breasts.)



Anyway, my friend quickly lost interest in the plot (admittedly easy to do), and simply became transfixed by Ann-Margaret's heaving bosom. With his eyes swimming in booze, he repeatedly inquired as to when she would be disrobing and showing her "tits." I tried to explain to him that it was rated PG, but his altered state allowed for no explanations. Finally, in an attempt to get him to possibly switch gears, I pointed out that she also had very pretty hair, to which he simply replied, "You can't fuck hair." His focus remained unchanged.

At some point during the movie, he did mention 'Nanerpuss, an inexplicably bizarre character from a Denny's commercial that likely sends druggies who witness it while tripping the light fantastic to hurl themselves from atop the tallest building they can find. We spent a good thirty minutes watching this video on youtube, as well as many of its remixes. Through it all, my friend would alternate between shouting "'Nanerpuss!" and "I wanna see some tits!"



Nothing quite says Saturday night like an evening with a socially unabashed individual drunk out of his mind, a singing banana, and Arnold Schwarzenegger in a powder blue cowboy outfit. On a side note, "Nanerpuss reminded me of an album cover I came across a few months ago. The band is called Head East, and the album was called Flat as a Pancake. There are no words for the back cover.



Transmission out.

On Top of Spaghetti

Last night I gave my brain a vacation and watched Meatballs 4. I have no real excuse other than the fact I happen to enjoy summer camp movies, probably because camp always looked like fun and I never got to go as a kid. This movie, however, was as removed from other summer camp movies as possible. In fact, the camp is actually a ski resort camp, not a traditional summer camp. All of this is made moot by the incredibly bad acting, wretched dialog, and extremely tired plot. Here is an example of the dialog: Woman clearly not a teenager but playing a teenager asks the old man running the camp - "Are you checking IDs?" Old man probably 3 times her age responds while gazing at her breasts - "No." Woman clearly not a teenager but playing a teenager replies - "Good, because all I brought was my IUD." I'm pretty sure Quentin Tarantino wrote that witty piece of dialog.

Now I will fully admit that I don't mind female nudity in a movie, no matter how gratuitous. That teenage boy in me has never quite completely gone away. Yet when that is all your movie has going for it, you're in trouble, unless of course you are making porn. There are numerous scenes where flimsy excuses require several of the female campers to be topless, and without these scenes, the movie is probably 35 minutes long, tops. If this were a sitcom, there would be no laugh track, because there are no discernible funny cues in the entire movie.

Corey Feldman is the "star" of the movie, and many would say that should be the first clue to the craptasticness of the film. While I certainly do not think he is a great actor, I did really enjoy him in The Goonies, Gremlins, and The burbs. Not so much in this movie. I don't know what was worse, watching him dance to a terrible instrumental version of Michael Jackson's Black or White, or trying to emote. Here is an example of the latter.



I could go on, but I will leave it to you to discover the other subtle nuances of Meatballs 4. If you do watch, try explaining to me why Feldman's character is in love with the ugliest girl at camp, or why the villain of the movie would accept a wager to pay off the debt of the camp when all she had to do was wait a few more days and buy the camp when it foreclosed. Surely we can get some stimulus money for a commission to explain these things. As a side note, Feldman breaks the fourth wall at the end of the movie, mentioning that he was in The Goonies. That's more self-awareness than this movie can handle.

Transmission out.

Lick My Love Pump

One of the funniest movies of all-time has to be This is Spinal Tap. This faux documentary follows the tour of Spinal Tap, a heavy metal band whose members never seem to be able to distinguish the line between "clever and stupid." Despite its outlandish situations and inconceivably bad songs, it is ackingly close to home for many of the real metal bands it mocks. Let's take a look at a few of the songs.

First up we have Sex Farm, with lyrics like "Scratching in your hen house, Sniffing at your feedbag, Slipping out your back door, Leaving my spray." Now lets compare this to Let Me Put My Love Into You, by AC/DC. An excerpt from this song, "Let me put my love into you, babe. Let me cut your cake with my knife." Ah, terrible double entendres abound.



Next we have Big Bottom, containing the oh so sensitive line "My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo. I'd like to sink her with my pink torpedo." Kiss released the song Fits Me Like a Glove the same year, containing such gems as "My snake's alive and it's ready to bite," and "Oh baby, babe, fits like a glove...Cause when I go through her it's just like a hot knife through butter." Fantastically bad.





Finally we have Stonehenge, Spinal Tap's attempt at grandeur. This song holds some very thought-provoking and mind bending lyrics, such as "Stonehenge...where the banshees live, and they do live well," and "We'll go back in time to that mystic land, where the dew drops cry and the cat's meow." Iron Maiden set brains ablaze with Quest For Fire, which begins with "In a time when dinosaurs walked the earth, when the land was swamp and caves were home, in an age where prize possession was fire, to search for landscapes men would roam."

Apparently many of the events of the film also hit close to home for real heavy metal bands. Several bands acknowledged getting lost in the concourses of arenas, complaining unreasonably about backstage provisions, and receiving critical reviews which may have been more clever than the works they were covering. In particular, a scene in the movie depicts a mistake during Spinal Tap's performance of Stonehenge, in which a life size model is supposed to descend from the ceiling, and be danced around by a group of dwarves representing Druid children. The model turns out to only be a foot and a half tall, because the dimwitted guitarist didn't know the difference between feet and inches. Apparently this really happened to Black Sabbath, except their model was converted into meters, and so was three times too large. Magnificent.





Anyway, check out this film, but don't laugh too hard, because if you choke they can't dust for vomit.

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The King and I

So I just finished watching this old black and white sci-fi movie, King Dinosaur, and it was pretty spectacular. Another planet appears orbiting around the Sun, and the U.S. decides to send a rocket to it with three scientists, whose jobs are to collect data on the habitability of the planet, and also a doctor, who is along for treating diseases and for "treating a fatality." At this point, the movie is already fantastic, and they haven't even blasted off into space yet. How a planet just "appears" is beyond me, as the movie makes clear that it was not always there but had somehow escaped discovery. Also, how do you treat a fatality? I briefly thought the movie was rather progressive for the 1950s, in that two of the scientists are women. Any steps forward for women's lib however, are soon reversed once things begin to go amok on the new planet, dubbed "Nova."

Upon landing, two of the people emerge in plastic fish bowl helmets to test the atmosphere. You'd think that both of them would be scientists, but alas, no. For some reason the doctor is performing tests. Once the all clear is given the other two emerge and they begin to explore their surroundings. It is discovered that this planet is teeming with vegetation and wildlife, which the scientists (or hell, people) seem oblivious to the fact that they bear uncanny resemblances to those found on Earth. They even take time to laugh at a bear cub climbing up a tree, but make no observation about its species. The geologist of the group takes a rock sample and determines that the planet is quite young, and that it is in the "prehistoric era." I'm no scientist myself, but doesn't prehistoric pretty much refer to Earth eras alone.

After a few hours of in depth science, they begin to make their way back to their ship, but get lost along the way. Apparently none of them are survivalists. Forced to make camp for the night, they somehow manage to make a relatively large shelter in the dark without the benefit of lanterns, flashlights, or even torches. This movie just kept getting better.

Of course during the night when the doctor is supposed to be keeping watch, one of the female scientists awakens, and they both wander off together to do some canoodling. The doctor trips in the dark, falling down a hill right on top of an alligator, which he wrestles like Tarzan. He manages to kill it, but not before he is seriously, but vaguely hurt. All the while, the woman stands on top of the hill screaming, even though she has a pistol on her belt. It is becoming evident that these women are very delicate.

As she stays behind to nurse the doctor back to health, the other two explore an island that seems different than the surrounding environment. There they discover the namesake of the film, a "dinosaur" that the dude scientist claims bears a striking resemblance to Tyrannosaurus Rex, but in actuality is really an iguana made to look large. I don't know what sort of natural history museums this guy has been visiting, but there is no more resemblance between those two species than between me and George Clooney. Of course it traps them in a cave, giving the woman plenty of time to scream and cry and the man to scowl and shove her around.

At this point the centerpiece of the film takes place, when the "dinosaur" fights another large creature, an alligator. No comment is made on whether or not it resembles a Triceratops. As these two titans clash, a gila monster looks on with interest. No word yet if this was actually a Brachiosaurus. The two trapped in a cave are able to use the distraction to reach the other two, who have come to rescue them, and to bring along a little something extra. It seems the little black box they've been totting is actually an atomic bomb. For some reason it makes perfect sense to detonate it on the island. Luckily, they make it back to the other shore, where the half mile between them and the blast is more than enough to keep them safe. The movie ends with a close-up of the mushroom cloud, and for some reason, with uplifiting music to accompany it.

While they still make movies this bad, few of them are made with the same earnestness. So do yourself a favor some Saturday afternoon, and watch King Dinosaur or any of the numerous bad sci-fi films of the fifties. You'll get a kick out of it.

Incredibly, I found the trailer for this movie on youtube. Awesome.



Transmission out.

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

I was on the "internet" earlier today and came across MTV's just released list of the top 10 movie badasses. Its a great list, and can be found here: http://www.mtv.com/movies/news/articles/1604506/story.jhtml

At the top of the list is "Dirty" Harry Callahan, the iconic character played by Clint Eastwood. I have seen all 5 of the Dirty Harry movies, although it has been several years. So a month or so ago, I rewatched the original film, surprisingly enough titled Dirty Harry. I had forgotten just how great that character is. Nothing beats the looks of disdain on Harry's face when he has to deal with red tape, or the look of satisfaction when he has just cornered his perp.






This first film is loosely based on the events surrounding the investigation of the real Zodiac Killer, renamed Scorpio here. Scorpio is played by Andrew Robinson, and this guy will really give you the creeps.



Anyway, do yourself a favor and check out the #1 movie badass of all-time.

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Eleanor Rigby

Allow me to diverge for a moment from my usual discussions about film, televison, or music, to rail against the plague of the Gregorian calendar, Valentine's Day. This is the absolute worst holiday ever, with the possible exception of "Boxing Day" in Canada, and that is only because I haven't a clue what the fuck that even is. Do you punch your loved ones in the mouth? Do you walk around all day saying "Cut me Mick. Cut me." Anyway, back to my point. Its obvious that years ago when this holiday was concocted, there were not enough suicides to satisfy people. Some suits knocked their heads together and said, "We can jack this rate up, no problem. Let's create a holiday where you are ostricized if you are single. Let's make men feel bad for not having the money to buy expensive diamonds for their wives, or feel bad because they have the money, but no one to buy them for." What a bunch of bullshit! If I have to look at one more goddamn heart-shaped box of chocolates, watch one more seizure-inducing commercial for that horror factory Jared's, or listen to one more person drone on and on and on about their Valentine's plans, I'm going to rip the wings off that Cupid fucker and start beating people with them. At least with Christmas, another shit holiday for single people, you can buy your grandparents something, or hell, even your pet if you're that pathetic. Valentine's Day, however, is relentless in its ability to grind lonely, single people under its goosestepping heels. But let this be a warning to you, Valentine's Day. If I ever catch you out alone, I'll drag you into a dark alley and slit your throat with a Hallmark card.

Transmission out

Subdivisions

Today I thought I would discuss another one of my favorite movies, The Burbs. Released in 1989, it remains one of Tom Hanks' most underappreciated roles. I know some people may snicker at that statement, but some people are morons. This movie is straight-up funny. The plot is simple enough: strange family moves into the neighborhood, weird things happen, and the neighbors begin to think they are up to no good. One could delve into the undercurrents of the movie, such as the pressure of conformity present in many middle-class communities, or the pent-up desire for excitement in otherwise dull existences, but that's not really necessary here. It is poking fun at those manifestations of the suburbs, but here weird characters are king, summed up by one of the garbagemen in one scene: "I hate cul-de-sacs. There's only one way out, and the people are kind of weird." All of them, even Hanks' character Ray, exhibit quirks that likely stem from the madness of repetitive behaviors. Fortunately for us, these quirks are portrayed with brilliant comic touch by the entire cast.

Admittedly, I have run across few people who enjoy this movie as much as I. My old roommate Jeremy is one of those few. I knew we would get along when he told me he had mapped out the cul-de-sac in which the action takes place. To us, knowing exactly where Art's house sat in relation to his neighbors only added to the humor. Don't ask me why.

The dialog is top notch. You just can't beat a movie with lines such as, "There go the goddamn brownies!," "Shut up and paint your goddamn house!," or "Ray, do you want 'em to take your family, tear their livers out and make some kind of satanic pâté?" This one may be the line I quote most, however:



The movie is also blessed with great physical humor, as this scene exemplifies:



I won't give any more of the plot away, for those of you who have not seen it. Do yourself a solid, and take a trip to The Burbs. For some of you, I venture the trip is not that far.

Transmission out.

The Carpet Crawlers

I'm a huge movie buff. I've seen thousands of movies. I've seen a lot of funny movies. I have never seen a movie funnier than The Big Lebowski. What is strange is that upon first viewing, I enjoyed it, but didn't yet fully appreciated its genius. It was only after a second viewing that my laughter became explosive. I think this was because as I watched it for the first time, I was trying to follow the plot and figure out where the story was heading. I realized this wasn't the point, something I perhaps should have figured out earlier since it revolves around a rug that "really tied the room together." In this movie plot is secondary to the characters and their dialog, and this movie has probably the greatest dialog ever committed to screen. An argument could be made for Pulp Fiction, which I also love, but in my opinion, the dialog in Lebowski is a bit more memorable, and generally funnier. Here is one of my favorite exchanges:

The Big Lebowski: Are you employed, sir?
The Dude: Employed?
The Big Lebowski: You don't go out looking for a job dressed like that? On a weekday?
The Dude: Is this a... what day is this?

It sums up The Dude quite nicely. He is unemployed and has no idea what day of the week it is. I also love the fact that he post dates a check at the beginning of the movie for 69 cents. By my calculations he writes the check on the 8th, and post dates it for the 11th. Fantastic!

Here's the trailer, which may be the only thing about this film that isn't full of expletives.




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Shake, Rattle, and Roll

One of my all-time favorite movies is Tremors, the 1990 homage to all those giant mutated animal movies of the 1950s such as Them! or The Giant Gila Monster. I still remember watching this movie for the first time, sitting on the floor with my brother and our neighborhood friend Jimmy. We hung out at Jimmy's quite a bit because Jimmy was funny (sometimes unintentionally so), and well, to be honest, because his sister was super-cute. Anyway, I remember being a little nervous about watching it because I was afraid that it would be really scary. I had a hard time sitting through scary movies (I still do), so I was unsure whether or not I would be able to handle it. I know it seems silly now, but if you've never seen Tremors, you might have felt the same way. Luckily for me, while the movie does have a few gotcha moments, it is not really very frightening (with the exception of one scene involving a couple, which I still have to skip when I watch the film).

The movie sets the tone immediately, with the introduction of Val and Earl, the central characters of the film. Played by Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward, they inject just the right amount of humor into the proceedings, giving it a tongue-in-cheek approach without selling the characters or the story short. There is something about the opening few minutes of the movie that I find very captivating and soothing. Perhaps it is the breathtaking scenery or the funny introduction of these two characters, but whatever it is, it strikes a chord with me.



After the success, however modest, of Tremors, several direct-to-video sequels were made, with somewhat mixed results. I personally don't care much for the 2nd film, subtitled Aftershocks, and I missed the original characters in the 4th one, subtitled The Legend Begins, which was set 100 years before the first film. I did, however, really enjoy the 3rd one, Back to Perfection, despite the absence of both Val and Earl. By this time Burt Gummer (played marvelously by Michael Gross), the survivalist gun nut from the first two films, had become the central character, a trait that would continue with the short lived television series. As you would imagine, the production values suffered for the sequels and the tv show compared to the first film which was released theatrically. But while the acting and the dialog could sometimes be groan inducing, there was definitely something about the characters and the story that kept me engaged.

The production company originally planned to make a 5th Tremors movie, but with the cancellation of the tv show, Universal decided that there simply wasn't enough of a market for such a film. They also currently have no plans to release the tv show on dvd, which ran for only 13 episodes.

Whatever Universal ultimately decides to do with this property, they can never take away the joy that I feel when I watch this movie, or the memory of sitting in Jimmy's living room, a little frightened but ultimately very happy that I had worked up the courage to watch it in the first place.

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Bad Reputation

Today I want to discuss two of the greatest, but shortest lived, shows to ever be aired. Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared managed to pack more laughs and brutal honesty about life as a kid and a young adult than probably any other shows that have ever aired. Both shows had the involvement of Judd Apatow, who many know now from his string of comedy hits such as The 40-Year Old Virgin, Superbad, and Knocked Up, which he has either directed, produced, or written. But before these highly successful movies, his brand of honesty and humor found a tough road to hoe on network television.

Freaks and Geeks came first, debuting in the fall of 1999. It centered on the Weir siblings Sam and Lindsey. Sam was younger, and his crowd was the geeks. Lindsey's crowd was the freaks. The show deftly examined just what it means to find your true self within a sea of conformity. Blessed with a gifted cast and brilliant writing, the show ably handled humor, angst, and real drama. It tackled large issues as well as small issues that seemed large to the characters. Of course such a show was destined to be short lived. It lasted a mere 18 episodes before NBC, in its infinite wisdom, pulled the plug.

Here is the intro, followed by a clip.





A little over a year after Freaks was cancelled, Apatow was back with Undeclared. Instead of an hour long show, this one was a half hour sitcom that aired on Fox. While Undeclared focused more on comedy, it still managed honest portrayals of its characters, never resorting to stereotypes. This show centered on the character of Steven Karp, a freshman at the fictional University of North Eastern California. He learns to cohabitate with his various roommates, as well as deal with his affection for Lizzie, the girl who lives across the hall. While several of the cast members were certainly more attractive than the typical college student, I still found the situations to be very true to the life of a college freshman. Just like Freaks and Geeks, it too got the axe prematurely, finishing with only 17 episodes.

Here is a link to one of the funnier parts of the series, followed by a short but hilarious clip.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzaUga1b2Aw



I hope you'll check out these two great shows.

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Well Thought-Out Twinkles

Anyone who knows me very well would probably describe me as a musical snob. I am very opinionated when it pertains to music (actually, to movies and tv as well), and find it difficult to refrain from telling people what they should be listening to. As this is my blog, and you are actually reading it, here are a few bands you should really get to know.

The first is Vampire Weekend. They have been described as having a sound similar to Paul Simon's Rhythm of the Saints. I'm not sure about that, but their music is clever and infectious. Here is "A-Punk", from their self-titled debut.



The next band has a sound similar to The Smashing Pumpkins. Silversun Pickups are a great band, particularly is you love fuzzy guitars and spacey sounds. This is "Future Foe Scenarios", from their album Carnavas.



Next we have Fleet Foxes, whose sound is a throwback to 1960s/70s folk music, but with a bit of rock thrown in for good measure. Their music is incredibly complex and mature for a band that just released its first album. This is "Blue Ridge Mountains," from their self-titled debut.



Finally, I'll throw in a band that I admittedly know little about, but there is a song from their most recent album that I just love. The band is Copeland, and the album is You Are My Sunshine. The song is called "The Day I Lost My Voice (The Suitcase Song)," and it is very good. The guest vocalist on the song, Rae Cassidy, is only 15 years old! She is crazy good.



I urge everyone to search a little harder for good music. Unfortunately most radio stations are only interested in playing the same few songs over and over. Programs like Napster are a good way to check out new music, or even youtube, as evidenced by these clips. I used to think that good music just wasn't being created any more, but that's not true. Its just not being played on the radio.

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Synchronicity 2

The list of sequels better than their predecessors is quite short. Too often Hollywood is less interested in expanding upon an idea and letting it evolve and breathe, and more consumed with the belief that people simply want the same thing again, just with new packaging. While there is a certain percentage of the population that has, shall we say, less than discerning taste, that is simply no excuse for the mountains of drivel and absolute trash heaped upon movie goers every year. How movies like The Mummy Returns, Pink Panther 2, Indiana Jones 4, or any of the constant stream of Police Academy, Friday the 13th, and Nightmare on Elm Streets which glutted cinemas during the 1980s managed to constantly get green lit is beyond comprehension. Within the cesspool of regurgitated movie scripts, however, a few shining examples have crawled out of the mire, proving themselves not only as worthy successors to their predecessors, but as truly superior pieces of work. Three of the most often cited examples of this phenomenon are The Empire Strikes Back, The Godfather 2, and Aliens. While I must confess I have not seen The Godfather 2, I can truly say that both Empire and Aliens deliver on the promises that any good movie, much less sequel, are supposed to fulfill for the audience. The characters do not remain static, they change and evolve as the events of the story dictate, just as real people adjust and grow to face new conflicts. The plots follow out of a natural progression of the stories set up in the previous films, in this case Star Wars and Alien. Events do not occur simply to pad the running time or to show off some state of the art effect. They provide a real sense of weight, posing dilemmas that characters must resolve.
In Empire, there is a particular scene that both reveals much about the character of Luke Skywalker as well as the overall conflict central to the story. The scene is not forced, but is a logical extension of the events that have come before.



By revealing Luke Skywalker's face behind Darth Vader's mask, the filmmakers are not only showing the central conflict of Luke vs Vader, but of the conflict within Luke himself. The scene lets Luke know, as well as the audience, that he has the potential to become the very thing he is fighting against. It's also a good bit of foreshadowing for their real fight at the end of the film, along with perhaps the most shocking twist ending ever seen in a Hollywood movie.

In Aliens, the character of Ripley becomes more developed through the introduction of the young girl Newt, who brings out Ripley's motherly instincts. The story becomes not merely about Ripley surviving another encounter with this alien species, but about the bond between mother and child. This bond is even examined between the alien queen and her offspring. While I could not find a clip of the final fight between Ripley and the alien queen, this cool montage shows the lengths Ripley will go to protect Newt. And while I may not agree with the creator of the clip that it's the greatest movie ever, I do believe that it's the greatest action movie ever. Enjoy.



Transmission out.

I'm Sure I Won't Remember As The Life I Love Washes Away

Why is the night so lonely? Is it the feeling of insignificance when gazing up at the vast emptiness of the heavens? Is it the falling away of the day's distractions, leaving you with only the realization of opportunities lost, mistakes compounded, and dreams shattered? Is it the tears upon your cheeks, hidden in the daylight, but now pronounced by the crumbling yellow light above the bathroom mirror? Or is it the sounds you hear in other rooms, that trick you into thinking she is still with you, that your life really isn't a bad dream, before you remember that you are alone? Finally you realize why the night is so lonely. It is dark. It is cold. And it will last the rest of your life.

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Listen to the Band

A lot of people are familiar with The Monkees, either from their funny 1960s television show, or simply from their great pop songs that play on the radio. Fewer people, however, are aware that they starred in one of the trippiest and best psychedelic films from that era, Head. Not only does it deconstruct many of the elements of the tv show, it managed to showcase the real musical talents of the four members. Musically, it was a bit of a departure from their more pop oriented songs, and they experimented with a lot of different sounds. In fact, my favorite Monkees song is Porpoise Song, the theme to Head.



There has always been a perception that The Monkees were merely actors, and not musicians. This was certainly not the case, as shown in this clip.



Hopefully these clips have piqued your curiosity, and you'll do yourself a favor and check out this great film.

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Life in a Northern Town

Has there ever been a show on televison that could make you feel as warm, or so aware of the human condition, as Northern Exposure? I contend that no show has ever made better use of music than Northern Exposure, particularly with the endings of many of the episodes. The music was very diverse as well, ranging from Irving Berlin to The Pretenders, from Enya to Willie Nelson, from The Talking Heads to Iris Dement. Sit back, watch these clips, and then try to tell me they didn't put a smile on your face.





Transmission out.

Magnum P.I. Kicks Some Serious Ass

Anyone who knows me well knows how much I love Magnum P.I. I still remember my brother and I watching reruns of it during one particularly great summer. It aired 4 times a day on 3 different channels, so it provided the perfect break from being outside. I was very fond of the show because it reminded me of the few years our family lived in West Germany (My Dad was in the army.) Magnum was one of the few shows we could watch on the Armed Forces Network. Anyway, I still love the show, even though some of the episodes don't hold up as well as others. Yet there are still some episodes that are just as powerful, or funny, as they were back then. One particular episode, called "Did You See the Sunrise This Morning?" was the beginning of the third season. Magnum and his buddies realize that a Russian by the name of Ivan has been knocking off some of their buddies, including Magnum's friend Mac. Ivan had run the POW camp that Magnum and his friends were in during the Vietnam War. Anyway, Magnum finally catches up to Ivan at the end of the two-part episode, and what followed was one of the most shocking and cold blooded endings I've ever seen on network television. Judge for yourself.

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I'm Sorry if I Made You Want to Cry

This may be the saddest song I've ever heard. It's so simple, but so powerful.



I just can't seem to get it right today
I just can't seem to get it right today
I just can't seem to get it right today
I guess I'm gonna give up
Oh, I guess I'm gonna give up

It's nearly been a year since he's been gone
And we still sing his goodbye songs
Goodness knows she should move on
But she just can't let him go
No, she just can't let him go

I'm sorry if I made you want to cry
I'm sorry if I made you want to cry
You should know, I never meant to hide
I just hate bringing you down
Oh, I just hate bringing you down

I just can't seem to get it right today
I just can't seem to get it right today
I just can't seem to get it right today
I guess I'm gonna give up
Oh, I guess I'm gonna give up

And I dropped my paintbrush in the dirt
Still remember just how much that hurt
I cut my hand and wait for it to work
But I just couldn't bring him back
No, I just couldn't bring him back

I just can't seem to get it right today
Oh, I just can't seem to get it right today
I just can't seem to get it right today
I guess I'm gonna give up

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Not OK Computer

I can't for the life of me figure out how to put a slide show of my photos from flickr on this blog. To say that computers hate me is like saying Willard Scott occasionally likes to eat. Anyway, I guess I'll post a couple of them in this blog, and then add a link to the rest until I find someone smart enough to help me. I hope you enjoy these. They were taken out at the wildlife management area.





Transmission out.