Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Isn't normal wonderful?

Maybe early Weezer. Maybe
Red Hot Chili Peppers, too. 
The entire Pieces of You album? Probably (Don't ask). 

If I was gifted the curse of recreating an entire band's catalog, I'm not sure I could do it. I mean, obviously, I couldn't do it well, but holy shit, I'm not sure I could do it at all. And if I had to, like, had to, I could probably give you most of Appetite for Destruction...uh...including that weird-ass drawing that came with the lyrics, too. (anyone?)

No Octopus's Garden? Blasphemy.
Luckily for all of us, in Danny Boyle's oddly-maligned flick Yesterday, the guy responsible for bringing back (/inventing?) The Beatles has an impeccable memory, and is an excellent musician. And rather handsome. And honestly, a pretty nice dude all around (another miss for me there, too).

Set in a world where the Fab Four never existed, this delightful little flick is essentially the lowest of low-key sci-fi (assuming that's a thing) mixed with the very typical dude, she's been right in front of you the whole time romantic comedy. Incredibly sweet and consistently charming, I was all in on Yesterday. I'm not even a massive fan of The Beatles (I know the, most of them), but I worship Boyle, and found myself marveling that this was his movie, you know? It's just so...serene. And not even a drug-induced serenity, either.

My sister initially protested because she thought it was some corporate way to keep John, Paul, George and Ringo commercially relevant, but I told her to cut the shit and stop sounding like a pretentious a-hole. I heard the same thing about Lilo & Stitch and Elvis and that movie was f--king awesome. STFU and please get some Reese's Pieces. (my sister is the only person on the planet that I know of that always gets candy at the movies)

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Why are you doing this?

If you were ever lucky enough to be a young boy in the 1980s, there's no doubt you can remember rewinding a certain scene over and over again. Maybe you had a fancy button that did it automatically, but the way I remember it, somebody had to man the VCR like a member of the bomb squad. While most scenes that got this, um, delicate treatment usually contained a woman in a bedroom, the one that I can recall watching a million times in a row, involved, of all things, a doll on an elevator. [if you've got twenty seconds, you can check out what captured the minds of deviant youth here.]

That's some real bullshit right there.
No way Chucky's taking out a sheriff.
Unfortunately, I'm not sure any part of the rebooted version of Child's Play captured much of anything, outside of my six bucks on Bargain Tuesday, that is.

Back again but with Mark Hamil voicing Chucky this go-round, and featuring an all-too young Aubrey Plaza as a moderately trashy mom, this latest entry into the killer doll franchise is basically more of the same. A friendless kid gets a creepy-ass doll as a gift, and said doll is rather, well, overprotective. And oddly literal. Instead or riding bikes and reading books together, Chucky goes on a modest murder spree in the name of friendship. Because, well, of course he does.

Outside of the wee bit of nostalgia I have for the original, I never really got down with the sequels and all the Bride and Son level of nonsense. If this shit is your scene, you'll probably enjoy the reboot, but I'm tapping out here. I appreciated the integration of smart features in the doll, and how this is perhaps a bit of an allegory about our reliance on tech (a stretch, but still), but I came for the gore and even that didn't quite tickle the pickle. If you really want to see a killer doll, go ahead and check out Good Boy's. But more on that in a bit...

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Dad's totally going to jail.

Days after celebrating her sixth birthday, this site's latest contributor, after badgering me endlessly, has returned. Though the official theme of the gala was equal parts mermaids and the solar system, after a recent trip to the movies, as kids typically do, all the party planning went out the window. Yeah, mermaids are cool, and the solar system's fascinating, but turns out nothing can really compete with trash. 

While he was slightly amusing in the preview, the second Forky appeared in Toy Story 4, I knew my kids were done. Even before the perfectly-cast Tony Hale started talking, the little home-made spork thingy slayed them. Combine his goofy expression with a delightful insistence he's trash, and you've got everybody's favorite character ever. Or you did.

Because Ducky and Bunny hadn't shown up yet.

And neither had Duke Caboom, Canada's greatest stuntman.

Obviously, we all vastly enjoyed the latest Toy Story movie, and I whole heartedly/unnecessarily recommend it. And being that this was the first one that came out when our kids were the right age, this is also the first time all the toys came home, too. I'd recommend those too, unless you get us a Benson. Because those are terrifying.

What follows is yet another conversation with my now six-year old daughter. She's very interested in the amount of likes this post will get, so, uh...I hope you enjoy it??? (I tried to explain to her that not everything has likes and she basically just nodded as if I didn't get it)

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

You will not stand out in any way.

The formula is easy. Watch the BBC, find something charming, take out most of the magic, bring it to America and boom - cash some goddamn checks. Done and done. Let silly Yanks think they've discovered something amazing, while savvy Brits look on, knowing better.

There's countless examples of this (The Office, House of Cards, Three's Company (!?!), etc.), but being that I'm married to a (sexy) ninety-year old woman, the one that really gets my goat is The Great British Bake Off. Er, the American version...that is. I mean, why would you ever mess with perfection and localize this lovely show? Americans, aren't charming. Or affable.

And good luck finding someone as sexy as Ruby in the States.

While I'm clearly deficient with the written word, and despite growing up in a kitchen, I'm even worse with food. But even I don't think I could f--k up a recipe that called for both Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson as bad as Men in Black: International did. Or is it does?

Oh, right. Like this film, nobody cares.

When Molly (Thompson) was a little girl, an alien ended up in her bedroom while being pursued by some low-level Men In Black agents (couldn't get a Will Smith cameo, huh? Or even borrow that creepy digital version from the upcoming Gemini Man?). Her parents get their memories wiped with that stainless steel vibrator thing, but Molly, foreshadowing her resourcefulness, ducks it, and sends the alien on its way. And ever since that night, she's been obsessed with becoming an agent...of a branch of government that doesn't technically exist. Huh.

Two (film) minutes later, however, she's not only in the Men In Black, but assigned to the international division and partnered with Thor, who is basically a top-shelf a-hole/overwhelming departmental liability. Seems this hotshot once saved the world with the guy from Taken, and hasn't really done shit since. Think Lebowski Thor, but a version who still shows up to work. Uh, and obviously, the gym (f--k me, this dude is handsome).