Buffalo BEAST - Buffalo's New Best Fiend
March 23-April 6, 2005 Issue #71
 Now in a Persistent Vegetative State
50 Most Loathsome People of 2004
The Controversial Article Everyone's Talking About
Tom Cruise Strikes Back
Revenge of the Nerd
MINIMALLY CONSCIOUS Facts are Bit Players in Schiavo Saga
by Allan Uthman
Democrats Prepare to Assume the Position
by Matt Taibbi
by BuffaloPundit
by Matt Taibbi
by Johnathan Matthews
by Dr. I.M. Simpering
Ten Commandments are Law, Arrest Warrants Issued
Metal Detector Fails To Stop School Shooting; Schools Consider Larger Detectors
by Josh Righter
BEAST Home Page
Buffalo in Briefs
Separated At Birth
Straight Dope
Kino Corner
Book Review
[SIC] - Your Letters
Movie Reviews by Michael Gildea
The Ring 2

The original (American) Ring movie was a take-it-or-leave-it kind of thing. It was hyped up as the scariest thing since waking up in a wet spot next to Kirstie Alley. That's a pretty bold statement, especially for those of us who were weaned on horror movies. And those of us who saw it were pretty disappointed. Maybe we saw it again and decided it wasn't that bad if we weren't looking to get scared. And we left it at that.

But, as is with the case with any movie that makes a shitload of money, a sequel had to be made. Focus groups analyze data, decide what made the original a success, and attempt to replicate, if not build upon, that formula. Namely here with the enlisting of Hideo Nakata, who directed the first two Japanese Ringu films.

The Ring 2 really makes no sense. There are moments where it gets scary (or at least tries), then you get to look at Naomi Watts, then The Ring 2 just slumps into a disinterested nod that will be duly recorded in the tedious litany of unremarkable sequels to PG-13 horror films.

The Ice Princess

The girl who wants to be the best ice skater ever. The trainer who believes in her. The disapproving mother. The formulaic storyline. The wasting of money.

I'm tapped, guys. I'm all out. There is nothing I can say about this movie that I haven't said about any other movie that bears a strong and grotesque resemblance to this one. You know what this movie is about even if you've seen a ten second spot for it on television. You know what's going to happen. I don't know about you, but I don't see any fun in that.

Now I don't want to seem like some pretentious elitist. I know that every movie's not going to be as groundbreaking as Pulp Fiction or American Beauty.

And I also know that this is geared for girls in their early teens and gay men who called suicide hotlines as the credits rolled for the last episode of "Sex and the City." (Kim Cattrall stars as the trainer.)

But all I'm asking for is just a little effort here, guys. Just a little...



Fucking awesome.

Forgive the vulgarity, but those are the only words I can think of to describe this particular trip to the multiplex.

I've been trying to piece together the story for what seems to be my entire life. I had pictures, five movies to date, and even the glib musings of those who feel most actualized when on internet message boards.

And with every little scrap of information and split-second image that was thrown my way, I had only speculation and the fact that the wait is almost over to comfort me when anticipation made my bones ache. By the time you read this, dear reader, that fateful day will be upon us in less than two months. Two months...!

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm not describing yet another children's computer-animated film, I'm talking about the trailer for Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.

To be perfectly honest with you, I didn't bother with sticking around for Robots, the movie that I shelled out an almost obscene amount of money to not quite see. I couldn't tell you anything about it aside from the fact that it looked like the thing was made with a self-running computer program, three kegs of beer, and the deed to a junkyard. I said to hell with the whole thing and walked around in a daze as I contemplated forking over another several dollars to see it all over again.

Hostage is a terrible movie. It's dull, monotonous, and an attempt on Hollywood's part to get you to pay for the same thing you've seen a hundred times. I mean, how many times can you watch the same damned hostage movie and tell yourself that it's new and fresh?
I don't blame Bruce Willis for starring in this one bit. I mean, how would you take it if your ex was banging Ashton Kutcher? Publicly, no less! I couldn't take it well, I'll tell you that. And poor Bruce is so beaten that he hangs out with them in public. The man's not in a good place.

But for Bruce Willis, the light at the end of the tunnel seems to be coming soon with the release of Sin City, the big screen adaptation (or transference, if you've seen the previews) of Frank Miller's comic series. For every horrid project the man picks, he comes back with a stroke of brilliance three sneezes later. I guess that's why he's Bruce Willis...

The Passion Recut
If you read any other review of The Passion Recut, you'll notice the author of that review will say a few words then refer you to their original review.

Not me. I don't roll that way.

What I will say about both The Passion of the Christ and The Passion Recut is this: The Passion of the Christ was a great piece of propaganda. Through the power of brutal violence, disturbing imagery, and strong direction (Mel Gibson did direct Braveheart you know), Mel Gibson turned out a movie that was to red states what Fahrenheit 9/11 was to the blue states. The Passion of the Christ sucked people in and made suckers out of them.

Upon a second viewing, there were those of us who realized we've been had. We paid our $19.95 after watching the infomercial and 6-8 weeks later we realized we got screwed. Don't feel bad. I was taken in, too. See my review for The Passion of the Christ.

Now we've got The Passion Recut, the toned-down, more family and senior citizen-friendly version of the Oscar-snubbed film. You know, so anyone who was too much of a pussy to see a few ribs sticking out of Jim Caviziel's side don't have to get over themselves.

While Mel Gibson's heart may or may not have been in the right place hedging the violence and the most driving aspect of the movie out, viewing The Passion Recut is like going out on a date with full knowledge that you're not getting laid. Sure, you might hear an interesting anecdote about how she met Scott Weiland or her gay brother's cat. But at the end of the night, all you've got is your dick and your hand.

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