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| FROM THE GALLERIES |
Issue #4 (2nd Print) Marvel Zombies: The Covers |
| I'm A-Twit |
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I know, it's been three weeks. I just haven't been in a "blogging place." Let me catch you up.
Um. Well, I got a cavity filled. As in a tooth, not butt sex. I'm not into that.
Oh, and I got Icepick, my penultimate Monster Pretender acquisition, fifth in the series of six. I stumbled upon a just-listed eBay auction for him with a very low Buy It Now price of only $20, though that did not include the non-negligible $10 S&H charge. Still, $30 is a great price for any mint and complete Monster Pretender, so I snatched him. If it wasn't such an overall bargain, I might be peeved that all my $10 shipping-&-handling charge got me was the toy, in a ziplock bag, stapled into a padded manila envelope, and sent First Class for less than two dollars. (One must assume a steep but worthy "handling" charge made up the rest of the fee. Envelopes don't staple themselves, you know.)
Of course, our witty blog post title is a reference to Ms. Stone's character in the Basic Instinct films and her fondness for the icepick as an orgasmic aid. (I'm suddenly reminded of a lyric from Cannibal Corpse's horrible but spry little tune, "Fucked With A Knife." Look it up.) Did anyone actually see Basic Instinct 2? Is it remotely enjoyable to watch? Does an inner robot emerge from the Sharon Stone shell and claw away at Michael Douglas' replacement?
According to his tech spec, Icepick is a "fanatical follower of Planned Obsolescence." What a coincidence! So is Sharon Stone!
Yo, Dollface and I finally went and saw Cloverfield yesterday, and we both agreed it was AWESOME. In my opinion, it was everything the lame-ass 1998 American Godzilla movie should have been. It was monstrous in scope and horror, the characters were vivid and human, the script was transparent, the special effects were seamless and amazing, the story was an intimate blend of the microcosmic and macrocosmic. And it took place in my beloved New York City! When this comes to the second-run theaters, we are definitely going to see it again.
Other than music that plays in the background at the party in the beginning of the film, the only soundtrack is over the end credits, entitled "ROAR! (Cloverfield Overture)." This galvanizing piece was an obvious homage to early Ifukube Godzilla music and other classic monster flicks, so I naturally had to stay and listen to the whole thing. Marvelous. Highly recommended. If you haven't seen it yet, make sure you catch it before it leaves the big screen.
The design of the robots in the last movie was, in my opinion, hideous. They were unrecognizable as Transformers (you know, such as they have been for over 20 years), but even apart from the drastic non-traditionalism, they were just ugly, confusing to look at, horribly derivative of other alien cinema designs, and did I mention ugly? And stupid.
According to Michael Bay, the rationale was thus: "I just didn't want to make the boxy characters. It's boring and it would look fake. By adding more doo-dads and stuff on the robots, more car parts, you can just make it more real." There are so many reasons this is just wrong. Updated, modern designs of the classic characters have been done successfully in recent toys, comics and even amateur digital animation. And all of them look better than the visual crap that was featured in the 2007 flick.
I don't know about you, but when I'm hungover after an evening of heavy drinking (and maybe a little purging), I like to spend the next day curled up on the couch watching movies that are familiar, moderately enjoyable, and of almost no substance whatsoever. I want something that doesn't require any effort or thought on the part of the viewer, or even necessarily all of one's attention. For this reason, the various Star Trek: The Next Generation movies are absolutely perfect.
We actually own all four ST:TNG movies on VHS. We purchased the first three all on VHS — cheaply — and for completion's sake Dollface wanted to buy the last one, Nemesis, on VHS as well. But I absolutely refused to pay even one more dollar for that failed, ridiculous and monumentally disappointing finalé to the series. However, late one night when we were walking home to our Brooklyn apartment, I stopped near a small park and directed my wife's attention to a lone VHS tape lying discarded on the edge of the sidewalk near some untended shrubbery. I pointed and said something to the effect of, "That is exactly the price I am willing to pay for that movie." In one gesture, Heather picked up the unwanted item and completed our collection.
Yes, I'm in a little bit of a funk. We're still... recouping... from the holidays, and they're not even quite done yet. Broke and unmotivated, I'm spending my time watching the TF: Headmasters cartoons, which only makes me want to buy more toys I can't afford. It's uncanny! Almost like the show was designed to make me want to buy these toys! I have the majority of the supporting cast (those characters introduced in previous seasons), but the plastic proxies of many principle players in these performances (e.g., the Headmasters) are not currently in my possession. Heart-wrenching, I know.
Music. Transformers. Heather. More Transformers. More Music. Job. Band. Smoking. Drinking.
This is my Portland.
I am enjoying my new job quite a lot. I like the atmosphere, the co-workers, the work ethic, the social value of the product, and the work I am personally doing. It is a refreshing feeling to care about your job. And since it's 17 floors up in the middle of downtown Portland, I have a wonderful metropolitan view outside my window. This picture was snapped with my camera phone while sitting at my desk. You get the full city thing, with a little park nestled in there and the distant mountains to remind you you're still in Oregon. Ah, the city. I never get tired of skyscrapers.
I love it when the present day catches up with futuristic dates conceived by science fiction writers. George Orwell's 1984. Buck Rogers' ill-fated mission, "the last of America's deep space probes," was launched in 1987. (Man, I love the music in the intro to that series.) 2001: A Space Odyssey. And, of course, there's the Transformers movie, which was set 20 years from date of its theatrical release: 2005.
When I got my DVDs of the original Transformers cartoons from Madman, since I'd already seen Seasons 1 and 2 in the last few years, I decided to watch Season Three, the post-movie season. Like the movie, the season revolves around a small ensemble cast that science fiction lovers may find... strangely familiar...
It would seem that Portland has entered the rainy season of which we were warned. These whispered cautions came sometimes in the form of concern, sometimes challenge, or just dread sympathy. Botch and Dollface are a gloomy duo, and we do not fear the months of damp greyness ahead, but this sentiment is easily expressed in the first overcast week. Six months from now, when the unrelenting dampness leaves our fingertips perpetually pruned and the entire world begins to smell like a wet dog, I'll let you know if our dour optimism has endured. (In truth, I made up the pruned-fingertips and wet-dog-smell stuff; I don't think that will actually happen. Of course, I could end up being wrong and tragically prophetic. It's happened before.)
Over the last couple evenings, Heather and I have been watching the extended version(s) of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, all 11+ hours of it. Simultaneously, we have been waging our own epic struggle against an onslaught of adware viruses that have infected her poor, limping laptop. Every potty break and disc flip of the film is accompanied by a check on the progress of her machine, like a concerned doctor. My prescriptions have been programs like SpyBot and AdAware, my holistic treatments involve msconfig.exe and Add/Remove Programs. But even when all seems finally purged and quiet, a recurrence of the technological plague rears up again. Why do these people think that popping up dozens of advertisements in IE will entice anyone to buy this shit? I hate them.
I want to produce a prequel to the movie Pretty Woman, wherein Julia Roberts will reprise her career-launching role as Vivian Ward, the "hooker with the heart of gold". Taking place in the months and years before Edward Lewis (Richard Gere) eventually pulls over to the curb and sweeps her off her feet, the movie will focus on Vivian's descent into poverty, her difficult decision to become a street-walking prostitute, and the many handjobs, innumerable back-alley blowjobs, and frequent backseat fucks she must consent to. She'll have to deal with callous pimps, unsympathetic police, jealous fellow hookers, potentially violent lowlife "johns", etc. But of course, all the while, she is still a "safety girl" (condom at the ready), and still refuses to kiss on the lips, foreshadowing her inevitable date with destiny (with her dream man, Edward, who is a really terrific guy, but just happens to occasionally pick up street-walking hookers).
Guaranteed to tug on America's heartstrings!
Friday was a great day. I got my first real paycheck since moving to Portland, and I got my first Monster Pretender in the mail, Wildfly. His soft Pretender shell has that familiar plastic smell of so many forgotten infant toys, I immediately wanted to put him in my mouth. (It was suggested that I wash him first.) And I was able to share the news of this acquisition over drinks with some new people that I found through the Oregon thread of the TFW2005 message boards. Got drunk and had a great time!
Saturday was hangover day. Initially, this involved nothing more strenuous than lying in bed and reading the rest of the Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane series, a comic I highly recommend to anyone. After the queasiness subsided, we drove around, trading in unwanted CDs and DVDs for new (used) ones, buying new comic books, eating at Burgerville (best fast food burger joint ever), getting our real license plates for our car, and watching the Zeffirelli Hamlet starring Mel Gibson.
Most of you know that I have been dreading the release of Michael Bay's Transformers movie. There were many reasons: Michael Bay generally makes critically unfavorable movies that I think suck; the scriptwriters' credits were unflattering; the new designs of the robots were non-traditional and (to me) unattractive. With all of this in mind, I had practically composed my negative review in my head several days in advance.
Yesterday, Heather and I casually opted to go see the film. We settled into our seats in a surprisingly empty theater for a 7pm holiday showing. Walking out of the theater, my simple review was thus:
• It was not a great movie, but it was an enjoyable kids' flick. Shia LaBeouf carries the film entirely, far more likeable than any other human or robot on-screen.
• The Transformer robot designs are horrible and I wonder what came first: their distracting physiognomy or Bay's decision to shoot every action scene in a confusing blur.
• In my heart, this was a Transformers movie... but not the Transformers movie, and certainly not our Transformers movie.
• Worst. Fucking. Musical Score and Soundtrack. Ever.
This was my last weekend of indulgent, jobless freedom before I start my new job tomorrow. It was a very excellent weekend, too, thanks to my loving Doll of a wife, replete with many treats both mentionable (breakfast in bed, Star Wars, comic books, expensive dinner) and unmentionable (swanky hotel, hubba hubba and, I tell ya, hubba). I can say no more.
On the topic of weekend activities, I recommend that you do not waste your time viewing Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. It is not so much "bad" as silly, dumb, illogical and pointless. The movie is simply too unsophisticated for anyone older than 9 years of age. By subtle contrast, the film Ghost Rider is, in fact, bad. Very bad. The stupidest movie I have seen in memory. Fit only for stupid 9 year olds.
I got some new computer speakers. They are so awesome, I think about them randomly when walking down the street and I smile warmly. I highly recommend the Creative Labs I-Trigue® 2.1 Speaker System (3300). They sound great with everything from Fantômas to The Alan Parsons Project.
There is a word for New Yorkers that never ride the subway: wealthy. The rest of us enjoy a love/hate relationship with the smelly, crowded and extremely convenient mass transit maze that is the NYC subway system. Of course, part of the urine-stained experience is waiting for the train to actually arrive, which affords us an unavoidable opportunity to take in the latest subway posters. Here are a couple that caught my eye recently.
I recently watched Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth and found it to be a very concise, plain-spoken and compelling presentation of the causes and effects of global warming. Of course, as a reader of Discover magazine and science news — and as someone who doesn't have their head completely up their ass in denial — I was already aware that global warming was real and caused by humans. I really recommend watching it.
I also recently re-watched Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster. I think the two started jumbling together in my head:
(click for larger view)
PLUS, another reason why Mechagodzilla is really the anti-Godzilla — as opposed to just being another commonplace mechanical clone — is this: in America, Godzilla's second appearance in film is titled Godzilla Raids Again, but the original Japanese title is Gojira no Gyakushû, translated as "Godzilla's Counterattack"; reciprocally, Mechagodzilla's second starring vehicle, now known domestically as Terror of Mechagodzilla, bore the original Japanese title Mekagojira no Gyakushû, or "Mechagodzilla's Counterattack". You see?!? You see the parallel?!?
So, I'm giving in and buying the 8-inch die-cast metal posable Mechagodzilla from Bandai, with it's spinning and removable head and flight mode, etc. He looks awesome. But buying him from an American importer is financially imprudent. So I'm purchasing him from Amazon.co.jp for about 40% of the US sale price. I'm shipping him to Brian in Tokyo to ferry back to me when I see him in May. Brian has not witnessed a single kaiju attack since moving to Tokyo last July, which is frankly somewhat surprising. But then, I've never seen Spider-Man, and I've been in NYC for over a decade.
Bizarro. Zoom. Wario. Faker. NegaDuck. If you've been keeping up, then you know I love my opposite villains, the dark reflections of our most illustrious heroes! [Respectively: Superman, Flash, Mario, He-Man, Darkwing Duck.] But... what about mechanical doubles? Most every comic book, cartoon or video-game hero has at some point faced a mechanical version of themselves created for the nefarious purpose of either: a) destroying the hero; b) impersonating the hero to commit crimes and besmirch their good name; c) seduce the hero's mistress; or d) all of the above. (Usually the latter.)
He-Man's evil duplicate, Faker, fits this archetype quite well, but in general, we don't consider just any Monday morning mechanical double as a hero's opposite. No, a clockwork doppelgänger must have some additional special personality, circumstance or other significance to truly gain a polar status as compared to our hero. And this is what brings us... to Mechagodzilla!
Getting sick on the weekend blows, blows, blows. And it sucks. Such a waste. Here it is, Monday now, and I'm still sick at home with the common cold, but of course it's difficult to enjoy the day off from work because I'm sick. At least I'm prepared:
HOW TO BE SICK AT HOME
by Botch
What is it about anything with "versus" in the title that gets me all hot and bothered? The other day, on the side of a phone booth, I saw the poster for The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause. (Advertisements are all phone booths are good for anymore, really.) At the top of the poster, it begins with SANTA CLAUS vs. JACK FROST and I stop and I'm thinking, "Huh, check it, it's a throwdown between the Man of Ho and the Captain of Cold, I wonder if it'll be any good." And I know it's not going to be good, but I can't help it, my curiosity is piqued!
It was the same when I saw that there was a movie called Boa vs. Python. I came *this close* to netflixing it, but if you read the reviews on the site you'll see that even people who obviously suffer from the same weakness that I have say it's extremely horrible and practically unwatchable (except for the gratuitous nudity).
You know what? Fuck you, Tom Cruise. Yeah, that's what I was thinking about for some reason when I woke up this morning. Fuck you.
Do you always have to play "the best whatever" in your movies? Best fighter pilot. Best pool player. Best bartender. Best race car driver. Best Viet Nam veteran. Best vampire. Best lawyer. Best boxer (best immigrant). Best spy. Best sports agent. Best gaijin samurai (hah!). Best future cop. And now I gotta see your sorry-ass Scientology people in the subway every day trying to get people to buy books and sign over power of attorney to their cult? Fuck you, Tom Cruise. Most of your movies suck.
I love slasher movie franchises. I'm not exactly sure why. It has something to do with the transformation of the killer, already a colorful figure in his masks and surreality, into something of a cross between an evil clown and a supervillain. You spend the whole movie rooting for the garishly implausible killer as he systematically executes every bad actor who commits a horror movie faux pas (going into a room without lighting, having sex when they should be babysitting). In the end, though, we see the monster cleverly dispatched just in time... only to return, like any good supervillain, in the next outlandish installment. Between revolving creators, interpretations and degrees of talent, it's so like a comic book I can hardly stand it.
Having watched and exhausted all the Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers movies, I have decided to plunge into the Hellraiser franchise. Dollface and I just watched Hellraiser III: Hell On Earth. It was sufficiently different in plot and tone from the previous two films, though equally gory. More importantly, it pretty much solidifies Pinhead as the real star of the show. We even finally get his full origin story, so far as I can tell.
In fact, I just watched the teaser trailer for the upcoming Transformers movie. It doesn't matter, though. None of it matters. I will tell you what I have told every person who has asked me what I think about the upcoming movie:
It is going to suck so fucking much. Why? Two words: Michael Bay. And now follows the rant...
