Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Mr. Guy reviews M. Night Shyamalan's "The Happening"

Pulp Free Rating:

Story: B

Execution: B

Soundtrack: A

Special Effects: C

Overall Impact: B+


So, M. Night Shyamalan releases his first film in two years and it happens to be his first R rated effort. Next thing you know, the film comes out and everyone and their mom is in line to pan it off the bat. If you are breathing, than you have probably heard the boo birds singing already. The fortunate thing is if you are reading this blog, you are an intelligent individual that likes their news pulp free. That's where I come in. How did it measure up? Let's check it out...

The plot of the film is effective in it's simplistic nature: Something in the air is causing everyone in the world to suddenly kill themselves by the first available method. For the most part the dialogue is well written and free of any ridiculously bad lines. There are some pointless avenues of conversation that lead to dead ends which seem to have been written for the simple point of putting words to the feeling of paranoia that mounts in the film as time goes on.

Execution was interesting, consisting of a vast majority of success versus a couple of miscues along the way. Leads Mark Wahlberg and Zooey Deschanel perform excellently as young couple whose marriage is just hitting the rocks as the most horrific event in mankind's short history takes place. John Leguizamo turns in another great, albeit short, performance as a distraught husband whose wife is lost amongst the hoards of half-crazed city dwellers and Ashlyn Sanchez plays his daughter with believable sincerity. With that being said, the lead acting was well cast and performed. The casting of extras, on the other hand, is what stops this category from being a home run.

Jeremy Strong plays an absolutely obnoxious National Guard private who trys (and fails) to organize a group of scared civilians. His performance directions had to include the words "channel a young Dustin Diamond" somewhere within. I was waiting for Mark-Paul Gosselaar to walk into frame and suggest some well planned but totally retarded plan to conquer Bayside once and for all.












Fig. I - Jeremy Strong













Fig. II - Samuel "Screech" Powers


Shabby casting aside, the score for the film is excellent. The retro string-heavy vibe gives the film it's true feel of paranoia. The piece of music over the intro credits in particular is very spot on in it's oddly frightening feel.

Ahhh, special effects. They can make or waste a film quickly if done right or wrong. In this case, I had to go with a C. Some of the effects were apt, the look and feel of the bodies raining down form the roof of the construction site were spot on.

There were a couple of instances where I was downright unhappy with the effects, though. For instance, there is a sequence where a police officer shoots himself in the head with his service weapon and it falls to the street. The camera is at street level so you see the weapon fall and shortly afterwards the officers body falls to the ground. His face lands toward the camera and all you see is a small, deep red hole in his forehead that eventually begins to ooze blood slowly. Seriously? First of all shooting yourself in the forehead, while being ascetically pleasing to the camera, in terribly inconvenient compared to the side of the head. Hold on a second, if he were to do that, wouldn't we see a lot more gore? Like some brains perhaps? Shyamalan was scared of the contact, straight up.

There is another laughable scene where a scared civilian watches a video sent via email to her (conveniently placed) iPhone. The scene involves a bystander filming an obviously suicidal young fellow in a lion cage at a zoo. The man proceeds to walk over to a lioness and wave his hand across it's nose, as if trying to provoke the animal. In a few seconds, the lioness begins to play with the guy's arm and eventually "rips" it off. I use the term "rips" loosely because it appears more as if the lioness actually performed the first inter species magic show where she magically made the arm disappear amidst a veil of downright shitty CG "blood". The bystander, unable to watch for a few seconds, waves the camera away but soon enough it's right back, just in time for another horrible CG arm "ripping". Fucking amateur. I know kids at school who could have made that scene look far better for a lot less money. Hell, they would have done it for free on a lunch break. It seems like Shyamalan was trying to re-create his famous alien video scene from Signs. Go fish...












Fig. III - "What is this? Amateur Hour?!?!?"



Conclusion...


The film was enjoyable. Everyone pans it but I'm convinced that these people are self-righteous pricks who have forgotten the difference between good film making and blockbuster film making. This misconception is fueled by the issue that sometimes they are the same thing, but are only totally dependent on each other for validation. Had Shyamalan done his best to make another The Sixth Sense critics would have panned him for being unoriginal. The truth is that critics have preserved The Sixth Sense in carbonite as the late 90's blueprint for scares and box office dollars. Were anyone to tread on this sacred land they would be criticized for doing so, even the creator of said blueprint. If my career ever got to that point I would do exactly what Shyamalan did: make the film I wanted to make.

The only crime Shyamalan is guilty of is not fully committing to the genre he chose by trying to skirt the gore in exchange for a wider audience. He tried to make a modern horror-thriller and just would up with an enjoyable film afterwards. He could have done worse.

If I was Shyamalan my next film would be "The Sixth Sense 2: The Return of Critical Approval" and I would cast the now 20 year old Haley Joel Osment as the same character he played in the original film. I would have him walk on his knees and act like the 11 year old he was when he made the first film. There would be no less than 25 "twists" that would be sprinkled throughout the film, basically undermining the very basis of the films plot. It would be two hours long and be an almost shot for shot remake of the first but with the scenes everyone loved from the first movie extended to an incredibly awkward length and sometimes just looped a few times. I would then insert my directors cameo at the very end. As the car carrying Osment drives past all of the houses where he hears "dead people", the car would slow down and stop with a shot of myself on the sidewalk with both hands flipping the bird. Two cameras, both on massive cranes, would crane in on each of my hands and the screen would split so you could see them both. My hands would then fill the screen for exactly 10 minutes, all the while the words "Fuck You All" would be repeated in every language over and over again by Dewayne Staats. The film would then become a commercial slot for every strange late night product ever, including massive praise for the amazing "Sham-Wow". You getting this, camera guy?

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Mr. Guy reviews Michael Haneke's 'Funny Games'

Pulp Free Rating:

Story: B

Execution: A

Soundtrack: C

Special Effects: C

Overall Impact: B-




To fill in those that don't know, this film is an American remake of Michael Haneke's 1997 German film by the same name. I haven't seen the original, but everything I have read lead me to believe that the film is a rigid shot for shot remake. This one will certainly go down in the 'Torture Porn' genre, but the film was made with a little more in mind.

The film is in the classic vein of 'Last House on the Left' and, more recently, Rob Zombie's 'Devils Rejects'. Haneke's goal with this effort, as with the original film,was to make a statement about the impact of glorified violence on our society. The whole point for the killing in the film is that, frankly, there is no point. How much of an impact the message makes is debatable.

I watch films like these for the technical aspects. Just how a film full of laughs is an accomplishment, so is executing a film that brings miserable torture home for 112 min. 'Devils Rejects' is a great example of that. It takes a lot of skill to make horror truly chilling for such a long period of time. I think that most horror fans are watching this film for this same reason. I don't think Haneke is going to get too many horror fans to feel embarrassed for loving the genre.

As for the story, absolute terror and misery quickly unfold as a family looking to enjoy a nice weekend of sailing and golfing are visited by a couple of squeaky clean young men, Paul (Brady Corbet) and Peter (Micheal Pitt). The boys first encounter Ann (Naomi Watts) and ask to borrow some eggs. Eventually, things get out of hand as the polite boys begin to use physical violence against the family. It's only a matter of time before they are fighting for their lives.

Overall, the story is well written. Scenes unfold slowly and with realistically increasing horror. Much like the film that started the genre, Wes Craven's 'Last House on the Left', you are left wondering exactly how bad things are going to get before something happens to give the home team an upper hand. If you are the kind of film fan that can't stand the thought of the good guys going down, you probably shouldn't watch this film.
Acting-wise the film is impeccable. Besides being executive producer on the film, Naomi Watts portrays the perfect victim. She really does a great job of keeping in character and it seems that she is truly dedicated to the impact such a horror-fest should have. Tim Roth as the father was another great choice, as he plays a rather diminutive male figure. And don't even get me started on Micheal Pitt. Whether it's 'Murder By Numbers' or 'Bully', he manages to play the perfect restrained psychopath.
The direction is spot on, but one has to wonder how much that means when the film was already made once before. Part of the skill of making a film is helping it come together well despite unforeseen problems. While that still may have been a logistical factor, the film must have been much easier to complete having made the blueprint over 10 years ago.
As for special effects and soundtrack, they basically share the same grading. Not too many practical effects were needed for the film besides make-up and some fake blood. The soundtrack consists of exactly two pieces, classical opera and grind-core metal respectively. They do the job...
Conclusion
So, reeling it all in, the film sits squarely on the C - B line. A lot of the actual violence happens off screen, which I am a fan of, considering in requires great sound design to convey the happenings that we don't see. The film itself was well made, containing marathon scenes with no cuts. What prevents the film from being a solid B is the whole "If you're watching this film, you have problems" feeling implied throughout. Micheal Pitt addresses the viewer twice in the film, at one point mocking the viewers need for "reasonable plot development". Someone send Haneke a copy of 'Natural Born Killers' so he can know that someone already made his statement for him... with a way better soundtrack. We don't need to be lectured further by someone who created a 112 minute torture fest for humanities sake.
I think my next film will be a disgusting child porn speaking out about the horrors of child porn. What do you guys think? Sound plausible?

Raw Emotion Deposits Found in Nebraska







True, unfettered emotion can be viewed, in the music world, as a rare element. Every album usually contains at least a trace amount of it, but locating a large reserve in one album can be compared to striking it rich San Francisco-style in the 1850's. Mad rare...


Were I an emotion prospector, I would have gone back into town after discovering this album and bought everyone in the saloon a drink and gone upstairs with Miss Kitty and the Madam.


You really can't fathom the depth of this album unless you've heard it. If you're anything like me, than you've probably been unimpressed with 99.9% of the folk you have heard in your lifetime. The hype starts early in life that Dylan, Nelson, and CSNY are the folk artists. So after all of that you begin to realize that, in fact, Dylan was only good early in his career when he actually wrote about "folks", Willy Nelson is okay but nothing really special, and CSNY are, well, kind of boring. Where are the howls from the gut heard in the great blues? The honest depictions of the mis-understood lower class championed by homegrown heroes? You come to find that folk is an often misused word that only serves to limit potential, not widen it.

So along comes Bruce Springsteen, Jersey boy incarnate. He gets really depressed and sits down to write new songs to be performed with the overblown, member heavy E Street Band. What comes out of this process are the songs featured on Nebraska. His manager, Jon Landau, agreed with Bruce that the songs sounded better simple and that is how they stayed: Basic and badass.

Despite being based on the same I-IV-V chord structure, every song is it's own study in absolute meaning and plain spoken brilliance. Springsteen veered off of his course destined for classic rock glory to create this monument to true darkness. As this dim view of the misunderstood salt of the earth continues, you become increasingly fascinated. And while one is fascinated, a profound relaxation occurs, making this one of the ultimate albums not only for depth, but for true and accurate conveying of emotional duress.


A Few of the Old Soothing Classics

My ride to school around the end of the quarter is usually filled with anxiety. This is largely due to projects being due and finals. Anywho, I tend to drive along my route in a white knuckled haze of bewilderment. When this happens, I usually try to combat the situation with a heavy dose of relaxing music. Here are some albums I choose to tame unwanted strife.










Joni Mitchell - Blue



I found this album in a broken Rubbermaid tub in our living room. A roommate of mine, upon receiving flack for the dreaded offense of having fluff picks * in his record collection, had gotten rid of a bunch of records that he didn't really listen to. Among them I found this album, stuffed in with the Woodstock soundtrack and some crappy Police album.

I had heard someone I liked say good things about this album, so I decided to pull it out and keep it (as well as a nifty Roy Orbison compilation). Well after the fluff exodus, I found a moment alone to put this album on the old Gemini. As good old Bret Myers would say "Boom...(hey)...Outta Here". Since then I have spread the love by making everyone I know a copy of this album.

The raw sincerity woven into every song on this record is palpable. I can only liken it to biting into a fresh Gala apple and experiencing the flavor contained within. My friends and I have concluded that this group of songs contain one of the largest known quantities of "straight up shit" every heard.

On a side note, a great sounding new pressing of this album was just released on 180 gram HQ vinyl for only $25. I seriously recommend it.
















Robin Trower - Bridge of Sighs



Like my sense of humor and blue collar work ethic, I can thank my Dad for getting me into this album. Back when Sound Exchange opened in Brandon, my parents went through a phase of cassette buying the fury of which I has never seen. My Dad had a lot of tapes, some good (Skynrd), some not so good (Aerosmith). Either way, it beat the radio.

While driving down to Miami on business, my Dad was cruising through Alligator Alley when a classic rock radio station played the entire first side of Bridge of Sighs. He hadn't heard the album since the days when he and his friends would throw keggers back in the 70's. Upon returning to T-town, he walked into Sound Exchange and promptly bought the cassette. The rest is history. In turn, this great album made numerous appearances at our cool, albeit less wild, parties.

This record is perfect in every way. The fast/slow song ratio is exact in it's precise mixture of tempo. By the time it's over, you come out with a better frame of mind than when you started. What more can you ask?












Thom Yorke - The Eraser



This record doesn't really have a cool story. My friends and I all love Radiohead, so when Thom came out with a solo album we bought it instantly. As expected, it was the next step in Thom's inevitable journey toward quantum theory.

The whole record just kind of wahes over you. One song to the next, it just flows through it's changes and always can be relied on to chill you out. This album actually really inspired me to re-engage my work with experimental electronic music. Just good stuff.

*Fluff Pick/ (fluf-pik) noun: An item, usually of some collectability, that is included in a collection for the benefit of adding size or credibility to said collection. Use is implied to mean that the owner doesn't not actually use or enjoy said item, but has included the item for some other nefarious purpose.

Naomi Watts in "Vintage Alien Dream"









Fig. I - Naomi Watts "Sure I'll be in your crazy alien dream, Mr. Guy"

I had the strangest dream last night...

I was watching this movie, but I had the distinct sense that I had created it. So I guess I was screening the final product.


The film starred Naomi Watts. It was set in the future, but the technology was all WWII era. The film started out with Watts aboard a bus headed for a bus station. When she finally gets there, a large space ship floated down and docked with the bus station.


Matter of factly, she walked through the station and headed toward the terminal where the space ship was. The crazy thing is that the space ship looked exactly like three train cars hooked together. As she boarded the train ship, everything got really bright. The first two cars were full of different species of aliens doing what appeared to scientific experiments. All of the equipment was old and dusty.


So, she finally gets to the last car and inside lies what I can only call the 'captain' of the ship. He was very ill and needed his quarters to be something like 40 degrees to stay alive. The cooling system had broken, so he wasn't doing so good. He used a device that looked roughly like an old rotary telephone to translate his tongue to one that Watts could understand.


He said that they had to go right away so he could get back to his home planet to recover. A minute or two after they took off, however, the ship began to have problems and they were forced to crash land in the desert.


The end is hazy, but I think that Watts had to take the place of the dead captain and help the other aliens survive the forces of nature and the obligatory Army presence. The aliens continued to do their research and something really awesome came out of it. Like a cure for cancer or something.


Possible script idea? Hmmm...

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

First Batch, Ladies and Gentlemen... a Ballad for the Blind

So, this is to be my first entry... interesting.

I write because I love to do it. The simple act of puting my thoughts into binary form is a relaxing alternative to just babbling on and on for no reason.

I am often ensensed with the way people behave. It may be a result of watching Discovery Channel instead of playing sports when I was younger, but I tend to view things on a very simply crude, scientific basis. This has lead me to view the activities and social patterns of our race from the standpoint of the casual biologist. Let me explain further...

For example, I was at the local Seminole Casino attending a friend's bachelor party. Once all of the new wore off of the experience of staring at Rock 'n' Roll "Artifacts" of dubious authenticity, I began feeling drained and sad.



Mr. Guy in 'Dollar Slots and Mental Rot'

All around me, I saw the numerous reasons I always feel let down by our species. Pathetic, obviously penniless retirees stuffing dollars they don't have into machines with drastically diminishing returns. 40-something swingers in full Stetson drenched fury, pretending to be 20 years younger. The haggard remains of Generation X's infantry, fighting for purchase against their own inner whispers of acknowledged retreat.

And, the Show Stopper, folks! Those of my generation following in those same footsteps. Anxiously mingling in with obvious examples of their own pitiful future, carving out a niche all their own in the cespool of stupidity.



A Quick Tutorial of the Alcohol Equation












Fig. I - Expensive, Poisonous, and
Extremely Flammable... let's drink it!

I guess this is where I mention that I don't drink. I think drinking is just another stupid habit that humans continue for reason. Well, that isn't entirely correct. There IS a reason for it. And that reason is no more noble than the typical excuse for not wanting to accept responsibility for one's own actions.

Drinking = Awkward Social Situation + Excuse to Act Naturally / Risk of Injury, Death, DUI + Shameful Lowering of Standards

For most it's an acceptable excuse. This decision can be expressed as:

Ease of Social Strain > or = Loss of Rational, Coherent Thought

Drinkers will not like the way this is put, but screw 'em. Just go grab a cold one and wash it away, tool. None left in the icebox? Well, better head to the store...


Back to the Story....

So there I sat, at the center bar area where the bouncers wear black sport jackets and check wrists for a living. All of my friends are either drunk or drinking to get there. I am drinking watered down Coke that, for some reason, is served to look like an alcoholic beverage. I guess this is done to protect one's dignity.

"No need to make the strange guy who won't drink any more of a loser than he already is," the gross orange waitress confides to the greasy bartender, "Let's at least do him the favor of making this whole thing not look as bad as it is. Give him the brandy glass"

As everyone was scheming the best possible way to get the Bachelor loaded, I became increasingly interested by an event going down at the bar. Not 20 feet away, a classic "hook up" was in full swing. As most of my sexual encounters in the past involved befriending the female in question for at least a month or two before approaching the point of physical interaction, it felt surreal to see that, in fatc, women could be had it such a sloppy a manner. Ahhh, the wonders of Alcohol.

To my sober mind, the whole affair struck a shocking resemblance to a Snake holding it's prey in trance before the kill. The female in question was physically hammered and her eyes were totally glued to her predator. The male's eyes were sharply erratic, taking in every possible view of his prey. His body was perched over the bar, leaning closer to her by the second. As I watched they slowly moved closer, eventually able to whisper in each others' ears.

For some reason, the whole thing just did me in. I was wracked with this feeling of profound sadness. Sad for him, sad for her, sad for them, sad for all of us. When they were born they had no such concept of this strange ritual, and yet through social pattern and pressure they were force-fit into the mold they now occupied. They left together, arm it arm, the male steadying her as she struggled to complete the task of walking in heels with only a fraction of her mental capacity.

Visiting a bar is like walking into a Jonestown re-enactor's show where the Kool-Aid is only slightly lethal.

So, shortly after, my friend the Bachelor puked all over the luxurious center bar and those lovely folks with the nice black jackets made sure we got to the main floor area quickly and efficiently.


Conclusion
Humans are animals. The most folks that have hope for our race can do is to try to find other like minded individuals and try to preserve a civilized way of living... I would like to see my kids grow up to be a better humans than I am.