Kino Korner

Movie Reviews by Michael Gildea

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—nothing brings out the worst in people like a free movie. The occasion when I got the free passes to this one should have served as an omen—standing in front of Mondo Video on Elmwood and getting called a bunch of "fucking freeloaders" by a guy whose driveway we were apparently blocking (he even parked mid-incline to drag Mike Faust out of his proprietorship for what I assume was an ass-whupping.) I had to sit in the second row after every wrinkly, liver-spotted senior citizen was giving me (flying solo that night) that don’t-even-think-about-sitting-here look. To which I replied, "You’re not supposed to save seats. Says it on the back of the pass, cunt." A half-hour later the movie started, and the quartet of fat teenage girls felt the need to do Ace Ventura impressions, clad in phat and fresh hand-me-down Hot Topic gear from the late ‘90s. I told them to shut the fuck up, to roaring applause. As I’ve mentioned, I went through hell to get to see this film, and I would’ve dealt with another theater full of social miscreants and it would’ve been worth it. It was worth it because it’s always a pleasure to see Jim Carrey in a movie where he’s not acting like a jerkoff for an hour and a half while being teamed up with Hollywood’s reigning skank. And you know you’re in for a treat when the man in the director’s chair has directed Bjork videos. All this and Charlie Kaufman wrote it. You may remember his as the twisted, yet brilliant mind behind Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, and Human Nature. The man is brilliant and anything with his name on it is a good time. The premise behind Eternal Sunshine is that Jim Carrey gets a procedure done to erases his ex’s (Kate Winslett, who truly deserves a nomination for epitomizing the quintessential fucked up art school chick) memory from his mind. She’s already had he same procedure done and Carry’s character does it as revenge, but as the memories are erased he realizes that he wants to remember her and has to shove her into memories she was never a part of to evade the oddly young and fucked up technicians’ mind-blaster. I really can’t describe how wonderfully done it all is. Remember, director Michel Gondry has directed Bjork videos. This is also a great movie to watch with your significant other if you suspect they’re planning on dumping you. Finally, a date movie done right…

Remakes of movies are like gruesome roadside accidents: you just can’t take your eyes off of them, even though they horrify you. But when it’s a remake of one of your favorites, it’s a toss up. The remake in question here is the story of the very few survivors who hide out in a mall to escape a widespread-is-an-understatement plague that brings the dead back to life and turns them into cannibal zombies. Any modern remake has got to be slicker, and point out that the internet’s come along since the original’s inception. With director Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead, only the first of those two is true. Snyder’s remake is more of a retelling; it’s got elements of all three Living Dead movies and even throws in some 28 Days Later for good measure. If you’re a freak for the original, you’ll probably enjoy this more if you don’t look at it as a remake. Just look at it as a zombie movie. Again, it’s a very slick version, and lacks the tempera red paint blood that highlighted Romero’s satire on commercialism (the main theme that the remake lacks), but Snyder didn’t skip out on the humor. The "celebrity sniping" scene was worth admission alone and the rich boy Bruce Campbell wannabe was a trip. Also, you’ll want to stick around for the credits. Although the remake was a close second, I’m still going to go with the original (a few of the players from which have cameos.) It’s apples and oranges, really. The remake’s definitely scarier, that I will say for Mr. Snyder. The sequence before the opening credits was by far the most disturbed I’ve ever been in my life. The scene in Happiness when the pedophile father explains to his son that he jerks off to him while he’s sleeping was nothing compared to that.

Movies like this make me want to take lives. The quirky FBI pathologist. The cops who don’t follow said agent’s gist. The dickwad innocent bystander-who-gets-pulled-into-the-madness. And of course, the psychopath. Angelina Jolie is very easy on the eyes and Joel Schumacher didn’t direct it. Those are the only things that were good about this movie.

The Coen brothers have been on the ropes for the last few years. The not-quite-thereness of The Man Who Wasn’t There (or as I like to call it—The Film That Wasn’t There) and the empty cinematic calories of last fall’s Intolerable Cruelty had me thinking that that the only way I’d be able to consistently enjoy one of their movies would be to rewind The Big Lebowski and Miller’s Crossing into the ground, then switch to Fargo and Raising Arizona. But The Ladykillers is kind of a deferment of the big judgment day that will ultimately decide whether or not the Coen brothers still "have it." The Ladykillers is a remake of a low-budget ‘50s British comedy about a heist backfiring. It’s got its moments, but it’s fairly inconsistent as far as general tone. It cracked me up here and there at the beginning, lost me for a while there in the middle, but didn’t leave me behind before the credits rolled. Initially, I was jazzed as all hell to see Tom Hanks’ performance in this movie, but about fifteen minutes in, I got the same feeling I get whenever I go to a strip club. The initial novelty and glamour/glitz of seeing tits and a set of Fort Erie piss flaps under dim blacklighting wears off as I wake up to the fact that I’m going home with blue balls and an empty wallet. Although there was a Tribe Called Quest reference, a quirky performance by Hanks, and chuckles here and there, there simply weren’t enough of those patented Coen brothers bizarre and random moments that make it all worthwhile. All that and it seemed that Marlon Wayans was just there to swear and ensure that this film got an R-rating. Keep your eyes peeled for a Bruce Campbell cameo.

I was sent into more and more of a rampant tizzy (for serious lack of a better term) the more I heard about the new Kevin Smith movie Jersey Girl. Although his films have consistently gotten increasingly retarded, each one holds a special place in my elitist heart. The movies are worth it for the dialogue alone. If I chose to view Jersey Girl, I would have to endure the facts that: 1) Ben Affleck is in it. 2) Liv Tyler is in it. 3) Jennifer Lopez is in it. 4) It’s rated PG-13. Affleck’s been tolerable in some of his past movies, and I realize that a large part of my disdain for him was the fact that if he or Lopez so much as took a shit or bought a pack of gum, the whole goddamned world had to hear about it. And from what I understand, he was more grossed out about that than I was. So I let him slide on that. I didn’t mind Liv Tyler in the Lord of the Rings movies and was ready to let her go, but I quickly came to the realization that she was in those movies for a combined total of twenty minutes, and she would probably be in this movie for longer that twenty minutes. Big gamble. On the other hand, Jennifer Lopez dies in the beginning and I wouldn’t have to endure Jay and Silent Bob for a sixth time! But that PG-13 rating is unforgivable. That dialogue I loved would be eviscerated. Kevin shit the bed and proved that entertainers lose their edge once they have a kid. Liz Phair put out Whitechocolatespaceegg, Robin Williams did all those crappy kid movies. Why can’t these people be more like Frank Zappa?

Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed

I remember when I saw the Original Scooby Doo. It was the summer of 2002 and I saw it at a drive-in in Lockport. I sat through that and Country Bears and the only reason I did so was because it was the only place I could satisfy my jones for the first Spider-Man movie. I remember composing an alphabetized list of ways to painfully torture Matthew Lillard to death. I remember wanting to recreate the scene from Fight Club with Freddy Prinze, Jr. where Edward Norton beat the loving fuck out of Jared Leto and cast myself in Norton’s role. (And Freddy wouldn’t be playing Tyler Durden, I’ll tell you that right now.) Sarah Michelle Gellar looked like she could have been on the cover of the Dead Kennedy’s Plastic Surgery Disasters album and should’ve been curbed like in the beginning of American History X. And a CGI Scooby? Give me a fucking break! But Linda Cardellini was smoking as Velma. I couldn’t keep my hand out of my pants whenever she was on the screen for crissakes! But Velma wasn’t cute on the original cartoon. She was a frumpy bulldyke who was a first cousin to Marci from the Charlie Brown cartoons. I wasn’t griping about this at the time mind you, but in hindsight the casting was way off. But as far as the actual film was concerned, I was convinced that someone took a shit in the film projector and aimed it at the screen. Oh yeah, Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed is the sequel to that particular movie.

Never Die Alone

Scarface is a fun movie. It’s got fun moments, some classic lines, some nifty action sequences, and some of the worst music I’ve heard in my life. And I have heard jazz fusion, I’d like to add. When I got the special edition DVD last Christmas, I actually took the time to watch the documentary where a bunch of mediocre rappers talk about how great Tony Montana was (and I think most of them were unaware that Tony is a fictional character) and how much that particular movie had an impact on their work and life. And apparently, DMX is no exception as he felt the need to make a cut-and-paste version of it. I will hand it to whomever wrote this by saying that they at least made it more of a drama as opposed to a two-hour shootout.