Tuesday, May 11, 2021

Monsters exist.

My kids don't really like movies

Hopefully, I can double back in a few years and change that don't to didn't, but for now, watching a flick isn't a thing they are consistently into. Aw.

Unless - UNLESS - giant monsters are involved. Then it's like let's f--king do this shit (minus the profanity, of course).

In preparation for Godzilla vs. Kong, we - as a family (gasp!) - watched the somewhat dubious Godzilla: King of all Monsters [review], and despite all the rainy, electrical storm battles during the darkest night ever recorded, that viewing experience was a resounding success. Please sir, I want some more. Logically, Kong: Skull Island was our next stop along the way, right? RIGHT?

It should have been. But after consulting some family-centric websites, I couldn't do it. Not with the kids. Not with my wife. Check that, not with my kids AND my wife. I get in enough trouble as it is. And allegedly...there was some stuff. Stuff ol' Mrs. Two Dollar Cinema might find objectionable. Aw.

Anyway, after years of sitting in my VUDU account, I finally unleashed heck and dialed up Skull Island and can I tell you, I effing loved it. Not only is Kong somehow infinitely cooler than Godzilla (blasphemy, I know), I COULD SEE EVERYTHING. Like, the sun was out and it was shining directly into my eyes (while cool shit was going down, no less). My retinas were torched, and I couldn't have been happier.

Now, I've lost my way in the universe (both the films and...ours), but best I can gather, the sneaky bastards at the Government want to map out the Bermuda Triangle-esque Skull Island, and naturally, weaponize motherf--king Kong. They send an elite team of Marvel Superheroes (Loki, Nick Fury and Captain Marvel) to complete the job, but thankfully, everything immediately goes tits up. Kong goes ape-shit on all of them - but with, alas, good reason.

(isn't that always the case?)

Monday, May 10, 2021

Today is his birthday and it is a tradition that on his birthday I get up extra early and make him his favorite kind of dessert.

You and me. 

Us. 

We made it. Barely, but we effing did it.


F--king madness, is all I can think blame, as there is no good reason that this blog survived a decade, and even less of a reason that you find yourself reading it, whenever/wherever it is that you're doing so. 
But without you, I would have called it years ago, even if seems that I indeed, called it years ago. 

What started late one night after a colleague showed me a blog about her newborn son, grew into a place where I'd spend a quarter of my life talking to a combination of no one, anyone and everyone. Well, everyone is a bit of a stretch, as there's been a core group of brilliant bloggers that have shown Two Dollar Cinema an infinite amount of love and encouragement, and this annual tradition is dedicated to them. 

Thursday, April 29, 2021

It's very effective.

 Animated movies used to be simple: pretty colors, catchy songs, everyone lives happily ever after, who's up for the accompanying chicken nuggets and plastic toy?

Lately, scratch all that. It's less hakuna matata, more cogito, ergo sum. Animated films, at least what the fine folks at PIXAR have been putting out entertain the kids, sure, but simultaneously have the adults questioning their existence. I find myself so deep in personal reflection...

...not even my meals are Happy.

I will never look at Joe and not see Roy Wood, Jr. 

Oh, Soul, what have you done to me? I'm not sure if this movie made me need therapy, or is therapy, but either way - whoa. Toeing the line between light-hearted and heavy-handed, PIXAR's latest wasn't exactly what I wanted, but maybe more what I needed?

Me and Joe, we're the same. Middle aged middle school teachers just trying to make the best of it? Pretty sure that's what it says under name on my driver's license. But while I've got a wife and kids, Joe's riding solo for the most part. He's got his mom, some good friends, his...uh...students, sure, but what really gets him up in the morning is his dream: playing jazz. Joe, maybe a bit long in the tooth, is holding out for his big break.

And he gets it. Finally. [yes!]

But then he dies. Immediately. [nooooooooooooo!]

Yeah, he does, but to Joe's immense credit, he ain't having it, and walks down the up escalator into the Great Beyond. There he teams up with 22, a fledgling soul not quite ready (or interested) in primetime. Joe and 22 get back to, well, life (back to reality), with the mission of reuniting his wayward soul with his body. And it works...mostly. Instead of Joe being inside Joel, 22 inadvertently gets to steer the ship. And our main dude? Well, he ends up in a cat. While this may seem like the freakiest of Fridays, it actually benefits both of them. Joe gets to see his impact on the world from adjacent eyes, and 22? 22 gets to try pizza

Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Playing fair is a joke.

I used to think the only thing worse than dying young, would be living so long that your brain calls it way before your body does. I've had some relatives that have dealt with dementia and frankly, that seems like the dickest of dick moves that life could pull. Hey, you made it old-timer, you've lived a long life, but you're going to forget everything about it. Mostly. To f--k with you even further, it'll all kinda depend on the day.

But, and just the holiest of craps, it turns out there might be something worse than either of those two scenarios waiting for me at the end. It wouldn't be my brain or my body taking everything from me.

It would be some ruthless blonde.

No, it's not my (lovely, ahem) wife I'm talking about silly goose, but instead one Marla Grayson, the main character of 2020's gloriously vicious horror-comedy, I Care a Lot. Starring Rosamund Pike, in a role that would win her a Golden Globe, this little story starts out as a small-scale nightmare and kind of ends up...as something resembling...the American dream.

Wait, what?

Marla Grayson is in control. Her business, her love-life, her f--king hair, the tightness of my pants- all of it. That shit is locked down. When we meet her she's in court, offering guidance and wardship to yet another old person allegedly incapable of taking care of themselves. Aw, that's nice. Helping those who can't help themselves? Honorable, right? Uh, well...

Not in the slightest.

See, Marla, caring as she may be, is an absolute f--king shark, the top predator in a food-chain constructed of equal parts best intentions and worst-case scenarios. Her and her team are going to help take care of your elderly mum, sure, but there also going to take everything she has in the process. I'm not a hundred percent sure if it's win-win or lose-lose, but after the first fifteen minutes or so, I was damn sure it's totally f--ked up. 

Wednesday, February 24, 2021

It kind of feels like everything is impossible these days.

In a few short months, I will reach the point where I have been with my wife longer than I've been without her. We're hovering around the twenty-one year mark, and I'm not quite forty two. Arguably, that's the most romantic math I've ever done.

I mention this because we are long past the point of grand gestures and blindly hitting the accelerator to the chorus of Meat Loaf's I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That). I would do anything for her, sure, but it's not like the opportunity, thankfully, ever really presents itself. I mean, it's not like there's hulking monsters waiting outside to devour us all.

They're pretty small, actually. Like, the size of Ted Cruz. 

Despite writing (and speaking) like a pre-teenage girl, I wasn't overly familiar with Dylan O'Brien, and even less informed about his latest flick, Love and Monsters. Released (theatrically?) in the wasteland of 2020, and starring the affable lead from The Maze Runner trilogy (and Styles from MTV's Teen Wolf...which is/was apparently a thing), this little monster flick is gigantic fun. 

Moments after romantic parked car time, Joel (O'Brien) and Aimee (the striking Jessica Henwick) arrive home to find the world in absolute chaos. Massive creatures have appeared and Hell, has officially broken loose. Joel and Aimee split up, but with the promise of seeing each other again. Uh, about that...

It's seven years later and Joel is possibly the least-valued member of a small band of survivors, all of whom are hiding out in a fairly rad underground bunker. Seems mankind attempted to nuke the monsters, but it didn't work, and not only was everyone forced underground, but the radiation mutated whatever the Hell is still living on the surface.

One day after a pretty costly breach, Joel, not so much alone but very much single, manages to contact Aimee after all these years, and makes a very hasty decision: he has to get to her. Unfortunately, she's 85 miles away, and if Joel were a bear, he'd be more Paddington, less Grylls.

But love is love. Rather than live for nothing, he'd rather die for something, you know? So off he goes.

Friday, February 5, 2021

I finished last, Hermione.

I don't know where this is headed, but my daughter, Violet, is a lot like me. A lot a lot.

In addition to being annoying and overbearing, obviously, she's smart, silly, and when she's interested in something, it becomes something just short of an all-encompassing obsession.

A couple of months ago, she had to catch 'em all, and all we would/could talk about is Pikachu, Eevee, Scorbunny and the like. But now, thankfully, she's moved on the Wizarding World of one Harold J. Potter. Once she got wind of all things Hogwarts, it was over. She politely demanded we watch all the movies immediately, and I said we could, but only if she read the books first. Well, at least the first two (I cut her some slack, she's seven).

And she did. Immediately.

Look at Ron's luxurious mane...

After revisiting the first three Harry Potter flicks with Violet, this was, perhaps shocking to you dear reader, my first time seeing Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I was a little late to reading all the books, but once I started, I read them consecutively. This level of dedication didn't translate to the films, apparently. 

Oddly enough, and I know I'm in the vast minority, but Goblet was my favorite book. How it was the only movie adaptation I missed is beyond me. I guess I was super-busy in '05...

Unless I'm reading the room incorrectly, isn't this the flick that most people consider the worst in the franchise? Maybe you hardcore types can point out the inconsistencies or whatever, but coming back to it a decade and a half later was an absolute blast. Especially when you take into account that I had my young daughter along for the ride. And, AND, I had no idea that Team Edward was in this. Holy moly, I didn't expecto that patronum.

*crickets*

Screw you, guys. Anyhow, not that anyone cares anymore, but is there anything cooler than the Tri-Wizard tournament? No, no there is not. In my head it was rad enough, but actually getting to see it play out with the best effects that 2005 could muster was a seriously good time. Honestly, it's hard to really evaluate any of this, as the Nostalgia Machine was cranked to eleven, leaving me impossibly stoked to see something 'new' from the old gang. And having Violet there squealing along with me? Can't beat it. It's impossible.

Friday, January 22, 2021

When they find out who you are, they will show you no mercy.

I love the idea of bringing honor to one's family. It's a bit old-school, sure, but that doesn't make it any less romantic. You just imagine some noble person, wind blowing in their rugged face, doing something grand...and it's just...well, is it getting hot in here? 

Personally, my ultimate goal, whenever I haphazardly take a moment to think of someone other than myself, is to simply not embarrass the people around me. *has blog* Okay, not embarrass them tremendously. *reads blog*

I have brought great shame to us all. 

Shockingly, after it's somewhat lukewarm reception, it turns out Disney has not brought any great level of shame upon the mouse-house with it's live-action re-imagining of Mulan. Okay, remaking all of their timeless classics (which are each essentially rip-offs of classic tales) is pretty flipping shameful, I suppose, but still - the movie doesn't suck. At least not hard.

Sure, absent are the rad songs like I'll Make a Man Out of You (Donny Osmond!) and, uh...others? Forget about Mushu and anything resembling light-hearted fun, 'cause they's gone, too. Turns out there's no honor in humor, right? But left in their absence, is a beautifully photographed epic, with a pleasing mix of action and intrigue, woven into a tale as old as time. Oop, I think I got my live-action remakes confused again...

Anyway, it's not a stretch to say that you've seen this movie before, because obviously, you have, but even on my TV (and not the big screen this should've debuted on) the new Mulan still felt pretty epic. Newcomer Yifei Liu does an admirable job with the title character, even though I've always found Mulan's raging internal conflict ridiculous (girl, you can kick all these dude's asses...and we want you to. Remove that staff from your arse and get to it already). But for me, it was the presence of stalwarts Donnie Yen and Tzi Ma that kept me enlisted, not to mention Jason Scott Lee and a fairly unrecognizable Jet Li, too. While none of these fine gents has a large part, it's still highly enjoyable seeing them all together, shouting instructions and/or looking on stoically.

Thursday, December 31, 2020

I'll always love you Diana, no matter where I am.

In an effort to be courteous, let's go ahead and mark this year down as less than favorable

However, in the infinite darkness/shit sandwich that was 2020, there were certainly some slivers of light/morsels of ham. In exchange for going to the movies, family gatherings, shaking hands, traveling, events, successfully educating children (that's a stretch, sure), we got...infinite time at home with our families. And honestly, in the decades preceding the pandemic, that would have been something I would have fervently wished for. But, as the saying goes...

Be careful what you wish for, you dumb son of a bitch.

Probably the dopest poster ever.
Oh, Wonder Woman 1984, how I wished I loved you so. When early word dropped of your enormous girth, er, runtime, I couldn't have been happier. One hundred and fifty-one consecutive minutes with Gal Gadot, you say? Yes, please. And when it was announced that for some horrible reason the two-hundred million dollar film would premier in my effing living room, our local coroner was going to have to bubble in exploding boner as my cause of death. This was all too good be to true, right?

Yeah. Like, for sure.

Okay, as far as I can tell, this is what WW84 is about: Diana has been chilling in the 80s, kicking ass in the food court, during breaks from writing hearts around the name Steve in her dream journal. But in a routine (and impressively poorly-planned) local jewelry store heist, some small-time rascals have unearthed some sort of dream stone. Uh huh, a magical rock. That was in a mall. Fine, whatever, not great mind you, but Diana's simultaneously kicking ass and gliding around Waldenbooks like an even sexier Wayne Gretzky. The news still good, the soundtrack still great.

(spoilers to follow)

Wednesday, December 23, 2020

If you believe, it's all possible.

I hate lying to my kids. 

My daughter is seven years old, and her belief in Santa Claus has been steadily waning. This year, she's been rather boisterous in calling faaaaake whenever anybody mentions jolly ol' St. Nick. There is no part of me that is willing to say, now, you wait just a minute, young lady...

Typically, you could blame the older sibling, but I'm not even sure Matthew is the reason she ain't having it. Maybe in a year where friends, family, sports and school are taken away from you, maybe you grow up real/too quick?

So, in an effort to renew her faith, without being dishonest, I did what any responsible parent would do.

I put on a holiday move. And in an effort to write something for this blog...one I hadn't seen.

And shocking no one, I watched it with just her, as my wife and son bailed almost immediately on Netflix's color-soaked 2020 musical, Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey. Recommended to me earlier that day by a co-worker (sorry, Margaret), I thought what better way to get in the spirit, right? And you know what?

It worked. [insert stoic, Tiger Woods-style fist pump]


Jangle is a good dude, proud father, and frankly, bad-ass inventor, and when we meet him, the final component for his greatest creation yet arrives in the mail. In a flash we see what is destined to be the toy of the century, some insanely articulated and wildly articulate Matador-type mechanical doll named Diego (voiced by Ricky Martin, clearly livin' la vida loca). Diego is special, so special in fact, he balks at the idea of being mass-produced and convinces Jangle's somewhat lowly assistant Gustafson to bounce up out of there real fast. And to, uh, grab Jangle's idea book on the way out the door. Major naughty-list behavior right there.