Sunday, November 10, 2019

Well that shit got dark fast.

A lot of us are haunted by our past, and unfortunately, there are some demons that can't be outrun.

I've been a teacher for almost fifteen years and I see kids drowning in trauma they simply aren't equipped (or ready) to deal with. Hell, after the recent loss of my grandmother, I've been dealing with some shit I don't think I'll ever truly get over.

But what's really f--king me up lately? I haven't been watching any movies. None. And the reason why...well, you're reading it. I've been so deep in the f--king hole (not the f--king hole, mind you) I don't know what to do anymore.

Like, this movie? The one I'm finally ready to discuss?

I saw it back in my f--king thirties.

What's left of my memory of It: Chapter Two currently floats around in my head like a bad dream/dead kid in the sewer, so at this point the best I could give you are the highlights. After almost thirty years...away?...Pennywise is back again in Derry, being an even bigger dick than before. While he's always taken pleasure in terrorizing the town's most vulnerable (and typically youngest) residents, when we meet this latest version, he's feasting on someone a bit older for a change. I guess even murderous clowns can't eat off the children's menu forever.

Mike, possibly the last black man in Maine, is the only member of The Losers Club still holding it down in New England, and upon sniffing out Pennywise's return, rallies the troops Thundercats-style.
Shocking absolutely no one, there's not a grown-up Loser stoked to head home, but even if it's impossibly reluctant, most of them make the trip.

Quickly we see that while they've all moved away, none of them have really moved on. Just the phone call from Mike is enough to obviously f--k them sideways. Also readily apparent, is how f--king stellar the casting is. Ten years from now, an undead James Dean will probably play all characters in all movies, so this um, practical effect of careful casting qualifies as straight movie magic. 

(Especially when someone in that cast is as sexy as Jessica Chastain)

Saturday, November 9, 2019

The Dump #3: Annoying Animals (Again)

I'm not going to go back and look, but in each instance, I know I said it.

There's no way I will ever see the next one.

Yet here we are. Again. Twice.

For whatever reason (straight up mind control would be my best guess), my kids wanted to see The Secret Life of Pets 2Spearheaded by Dad, we more or less collectively hated the first one, so I'm not entirely sure what compelled us to rent the second. Well, outside of some FREE MOVIE RENTAL coupon one of my kids scored while scouring the street alone, presumably after midnight.

Anyhow, we totally rented it...and mostly watched it. If I remember correctly, everybody was there at the beginning, but by the half-hour mark, there could be only one. The one least on-board with this entire endeavor.


Even though you'll probably never forgive me, I'd still like to tell you what the movie is about regardless,  even if I don't remember it. The dog that isn't Louis C.K. anymore goes to a farm while Kevin Hart's annoying ass rabbit has to inexplicably rescue a tiger...and the girl dog loses a moderately beloved squeaky toy. Yep. Even my kids were like what the f--k does anything have to with anything for shit's sake, and I simply had no answer for my potty-mouthed hellions. And obviously, neither did the writers. But who needs answers when you've got money. Heaps and heaps of blood-stained money (this movie grossed 433 million on a budget of 80). I wonder what Scorsese thinks about that...

Friday, October 25, 2019

Friends are the family we choose.

You know what I hate most about my job? I genuinely want to help people. 

Wait. Let me be clear. It's not the wanting to help people part that I hate, it's that so often, for an infinite number of reasons, it's f--king impossible to actually do any good. 

Traditionally, it's the awful nature of rotten kids interfering with the education of those that really need (and want) one, but lately, it's the adults. As countless initiatives are hurled at me, it's negated the impact I can have.

So when I see someone truly help another person, not only do I get inspired...

...but I also get jealous.

There have been few films this year that I have loved as much as Peanut Butter Falcon, even if it almost f--king killed me. 
Like running into an old friend after it's been too long, this incredibly touching tale of brotherhood and friendship left me grinning from ear-to-ear. And trust me, the smiling part was fun, you know? Helped offset all the snotty-faced ugly crying. (but more on that in a bit)

I mean, they had me at hello with Zack Gottsagen's performance, as it is legitimately impossible to not root for this dude. But while I'd like to say he's the ultimate underdog, the cast also features Dakota Johnson (who forever has my vote) and an impossibly forlorn Shia LaBeouf. I shit you not, I found myself not only cheering for these characters, but damn near clapping my ass off for these actors. 

Gottsagen plays, well, Zac, a young man abandoned by his family who is currently living in a rural North Carolina retirement home. Zac is a good guy with a big dream, but unfortunately wasting away with his roommate Carl ain't it. See, Zac yearns of being a professional wrestler, and, according to his nearly worn-out VHS cassette, there just so happens to be a top-flight wrestling school nearby. Under the tutelage of the legendary Salt Water Redneck, Zac believes that he can become a wrestling superstar.

Friday, October 18, 2019

With family, one hopes for the best.

It's hard to play games with my wife, board games, that is (ahem), because as she'll repeatedly claim, she's not into the competition part of it - just the fun. Cool story, lady, but frankly I don't see much fun without the competition part of it.

In the past we'd play the odd game of Connect Four, Battleship or Yahtzee, but our longest rivalry centered around a game called [nerd alert] Dropmix, where the only real losers are the hammer anvil and stirrup of nearby people. Recently, we dabbled in Scrabble for the first time in forever, though I'm not sure how much fun she had (I totally kicked her ass). Words, as you can so obviously tell, is my good...thing.

In the absurdly kickass Ready or Not, the game is less triple-word score, more quadruple homicide. Set just hours after a rather hoity-toity wedding, the lovely Grace finds herself playing an initially awkward game of hide-and-seek...against her in-laws (oddly enough, on my wedding night, I was also hiding from my in-laws).

Apparently, her husband's family, after amassing generational wealth in the lucrative board game business, partakes in a silly tradition where the newest member of the family has to *insert Jigsaw voice* play a game. Grace picks a card any card, and out comes the seemingly innocuous children's game. Though, when we played it, as best as I can remember it, no player was issued a f--king crossbow.

I know you already knew all of  that, you knowledgeable devil,  but short or repeating the killer premise, everything else is as spoiler-filled as that goddamned trailer. Grace has to survive the night, and judging by the already announced sequel, she will, but holy shit are there some major surprises along the way (my favorite being something that would easily get me fired, but might just be worth it regardless).

Monday, October 7, 2019

The Dump #2: Magic Week 2019

You f--kers that are lucky enough to not be (inner-city) (public school) teachers (with young children of your own) will likely never get it, but summer vacation can be a bit of a nightmare.

Oh sure, you get nine consecutive weeks off from being intermittently skullf--ked in each of your orifices by students and administration alike (the Natural Disasters ain't got shit on that tag team combo), but it's rare you get to really enjoy it. The time, not the...skull--, nevermind. . Uncle Ben may have said With great power comes great responsibility, but I think what he meant to say was with great freedom comes immense guilt. Or mo' money, mo' problems. Something like that.

Anyway, what I'm really trying to say is that this summer was one of the worst ever (I love my kids, but f--k me all I did was drive them places). Luckily, there was a magic week in mid-August where my children were back in school...and I wasn't. My wife was at work...and I wasn't. It was the best of times...but it was also the blurst of times.

Of course I had some domestic duties to take care of that week, but whenever I crossed off the day's to-do list, armed with my minty-fresh Regal Unlimited membership, I headed directly to the cinema. 

Monday, September 30, 2019

The Dump #1: Disney Does It Again

Look, we all know it's never going to stop.

When it comes to these live-action Disney remakes, you can love it, or you can loathe it, but either way? You're going to have to accept it. 

I didn't want to see The Lion King remake. After initially raising an eyebrow (or two) at the trailer, the lukewarm early reviews made it seem like it was legitimately skippable, even with that badass cast. And when my dog died suddenly the week after it came out, there was no f--king way I was going to see a flick brimming with adorable animals. Not a chance in Hell. But then...well...overwhelmingly out of character, my son suggested we see it. I was too wrecked to pick up on it, but my wife pulled me aside and let me know Matty wasn't into the flick at all, but he just thought I might be happier at the movies. He'd probably never seen his dad cry so much.

Oddly enough, the next night, in an attempt to rejoin society, my wife and I attempted to see Once Upon a Time in Hollywood...but that f--ker was sold out. The only movie that still had seats? The Lion King.

Fittingly, my wife fell asleep ten minutes in, leaving me to hate-watch Disney's latest remake all by myself. Oh, I had three high-school girls to my immediate right, and though they weren't too pleased with the antics of Uncle Scarface (I shit you not), they seemed to enjoy the flick....whenever they inadvertently looked up from their phones. But me? I detested almost every (Seth Rogen-free) second of this CGI nightmare. I love Favreau so I'll go ahead and blame it on being absolutely gutted over my dog, but being that I loosely connect the two events (the flick and losing my pup), I will absolutely never give this film another chance.

Thursday, September 12, 2019

Maybe I've reached my limit.

It's got to be tough to be a cop these days. People are probably being dicks exponentially. And when you show up to deal with them, every motherf--ker on the scene whips their phone out, just in case you're about to have an extremely shitty day (I just assume most days are regular shitty).

So what can you do to combat the pitfalls of being a cop? Outside of starring in your own segment of Live PD, that is. My guess is, like the rest of us, you f--k around a bit, you know? Play some kids in basketball. Ride the mechanical bull at a call for a noise complaint. I don't know - something! But what you can't do? What you absolutely can not ever do...ever? 

Joke about f--king meth gators, mmkay? Cause that shit ain't funny.

But what is funny, hysterical in fact, was seeing my hardass nephew jump out of his f--king skin a half-dozen times during what could possible be the most summerest summer movie ever, Alexandre Aja's Crawl. Only four people in the world call me Uncle, and I took two of them to see this eighty-seven minute masterpiece. 

Okay, it's actually pretty f--king stupid, but perhaps obviously, in the best way ever. 

Disenchanted University of Florida swimmer Haley (yep, she too is a f--king Gator!) inexplicably heads home in an F5 to check on her dad, Dave (ex-sniper and current/actual plumber Barry Pepper) who isn't, you guessed it, answering his damn phone. Things ain't exactly peachy between these two, but ol' Haley isn't going to let swirling cows and Johnny Law keep her from checking in on her pops.  And shocking no one, he's in a bit of a spot. And by spot, obviously I mean an absolute F--KING GATOR ORGY. know, that's a thing.

I'd tell you more about the plot, but you guys, that's it. It takes about seven or eight minutes to get going, and then it's buy one get one on gators. Oh, and you might think giant f--king alligators are slow or at least can be heard approaching, but you'd be wrong. And by wrong, clearly I mean, armless and swimming in your own bloody urine level of wrongness.

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Holy shit, right?

I repeat, the only thing worse than not having a boyfriend or girlfriend, is, of course, having a boyfriend or girlfriend. 

While in my last post, we were talking about the beginning of a relationship, holy f--k, can we take a minute (or ten) to, about the end?

Those ain't sad tears, huh?
Like Peter and MJ before them (but replace all starry-eyed awwwws with bewildered looks guttural moans), up next is yet another borderline couple traveling abroad, Dani and Christian. But instead of being at the beck and call of a one-eyed secret agent, in Ari Aster's latest Midsommar, these two lovebirds are held in check by an unhealthy mix of curiosity and manners.

Like, yeah this shit is f--ked, but I'm kind of interested in where it's going...and...well, it would be pretty rude to just leave. Which is kind of how I felt about this movie.

About two minutes in, we realize that Christian is a shitty boyfriend, but Dani, likely due to immense trauma (more on that...if I can stomach it) doesn't seem to mind his aloofness all that much. And when a friend of Christian's invites them to a midsummer festival in Sweden, perhaps a rekindling of sorts is in the cards. Or equally likely, everything will end up infinitely worse and Christian will be stuffed in a f--king HOLLOWED-OUT BEAR and I will stumble to my car praying for the sweet release of death. You know, one if those.