Tuesday, October 27, 2020

He's not dead. I just can't see him.

As a little kid, I'd always choose flight, because, Hell, it's flight. Like, you could just fly around the world like Superman, or, because I'm old so very old, like Mighty Mouse. Or, and I'm not a hundred percent sure on this, Captain Caveman. Regardless, you were flying, and that was all that mattered. You saw yourself zooming over your neighborhood like the opening shot to every kids' movie ever, and you'd think there's nothing better, that would be amazing.

But when young boys become young men, things change, and instead of the super-hero ability of flying, you choose invisibility, because, well, boobs. I'm pretty sure that was all I was thinking about, and quite frankly, I'm kind of pissed that I had to consider this hypothetical, when that's less time for pondering, the aforementioned chesticles. Because in your teenage boy mind, there's nothing betterand they would be amazing.

Maybe there's something better, but you know what also is pretty amazing? Leigh Whannell's updated look at the Universal classic, The Invisible Man

While that might be a bit of an overstatement (it's good), after catching the preview in the theater back when those were a thing, I had zero expectations the film would be anything more than more rehashed garbage for a variety of reasons. It was being released in February, it didn't really have anybody in it, and the biggest offense? The preview showed the whole goddamned movie. Oh, and a little bit of guilty-by-association with that f--king updated Mummy flick [review] with Tom Cruise, because that movie can suck all the dicks, whether they've preserved for all eternity or not.

While I've never seen the original flick from 1933, and my memory of Hollow Man is spotty at best (did Kevin Bacon show his invisible wang, or am I just wishing out loud?), this latest version of the classic tale features an optics inventor/eccentric millionaire nutjob stalking his (theoretically) now-widowed wife, Cecilia. Yeah, according to everyone but Elizabeth Moss' character, the maniacal Tom offed himself a while back likely after casting his mail-in ballot for Trump. Good riddance, as the minute we spent with this guy was nothing short of toxic. And not the fun Britney Spears dressed as a flight attendant kind, but more of the date-rapey, woman-hating, full on f--kface variety. Oh, that kind.

Cecelia wants to believe this good news about his grisly suicide, but Tom was a top-shelf asshole, so she's pretty f--king skeptical, to put it mildly. Lucky for her, she's now living with good friend James, a full-time cop and single father/part time chiseled Greek god. I don't know about her, but I feel safe, even with that mysterious chair indentation and unrelenting sense of dread around every corner.

Tuesday, October 20, 2020

We'll survive together.

Remember a short time ago, when you'd watch an end of the world flick and you'd think, imagine having to stay inside all the time, scrounging for food, barricading yourself in from zombies/weather/sound-monsters/what-have-yous as the government failed you and your family wjile all once-reliable social systems collapsed? Remember when the end of the world was a far-fetched idea that greenlit a movie...

... and not just a story on your local news after one last check on the weather?

That poster on the left? I'm pretty sure that's featured on Netflix's preview panel for the 2020 flick #Alive, and being the asshole that I am, thought it showed the likely protagonist taking a goddamned selfie surrounded by f--king flesh-hungry zombies. While a movie proudly boasting that idea would, on the right night, certainly be my cup of tea, Il Cho's flick is a bit more serious than that. Oh, it's still an end of the world zombie-infested nightmare, it's just a bit more...quiet? than you might expect.

Joon-woo is a twenty-something streamer living in an apartment with his family. One day, when they are out, the news flashes in the background something about a highly contagious illness spreading throughout the country. Joon-woo, like all characters in these movies, doesn't exactly notice. Well, not until the wifi signal goes out. 

Once it's clear that this event is quite the situation, our dude realizes, like I assume many of us would, he's utterly f-ked. He's alone, he's out of food and water, everywhere he looks, flesh-eating zombies are running rampant turning the few survivors braving the hordes. Joon-woo's like f--k it, and decides to kill himself. And I'm not sure you can blame him. 

Saturday, October 17, 2020

It's not my first time seeing someone die.

Have you ever found out the year someone was born and you're instantly furious, or are you not a giant creeper idling around nearby parks in your unmarked van? Because let me tell ya, it's the worst feeling. Oh, and I know that awful bullshit that some a-holes say, you know, about age being a just a number and such. But you know what else is a just a number?

The length of a prison sentence.

In the first flick, the ultra-ridiculous The Babysitter [review], I spent the majority of the runtime drooling over the lovely Samara Weaving, who played Bee, the titular sitter of babies. Weaving, at the time, was in her mid twenties, so, yeah, I'm a still a perv, but like, the bridge I live under is pretty nice. You should stop by sometime.

This time around, in The Babysitter: Killer QueenBee's gone, and the lead actress is Emily Alyn Lind who is also pretty lovely FOR AN ABSOLUTE CHILD. Obviously, she looks young, but typically everybody in movies does (or old, because this is a high school flick), but Lind straight up is a high school girl. *shudder* Her sexiness would have been super appreciated two decades ago. Now, I just feel like an infinitely less charming and handsome version of Matthew McConaughey in Dazed and Confused. Except at this point, I'm pretty much Wooderson's dad for f--k's sake.

Speaking of not alright alright, that's the general vibe from critics regarding this film, with the consensus being it sucks a giant bag of (age-appropriate) dicks. While it's not as good as the first, I still found it an absolute blast and would enthusiastically recommend it. To fellow perverts.

Thursday, October 1, 2020

Let the madness begin.

If concerts were still a thing, and you and I went to one, we should probably have that pre-show conversation before we get out of the car. No, not the one about what song we hope they open with, nor the one about how many people you're going to hook up with in a drunken haze, but the one where we nail down our rendezvous point when the show's over. My vote's the port-a-pottys near the trees, but if you want to meet near the homeless guy in the wheelchair, that works too.

Assuming, you know, neither one of us gets murdered by a satanic cult. Or Republicans.

I think the cool kids would call my watching of We Summon the Darkness a thirstwatch, and I'm all for it. It wouldn't be the first time. Once again, I skanked the meanest pickle directly into the mosh pit that is Alexandra Daddario's filmography, and this time? My nose isn't bloody, my shirt isn't ripped. Hell, it was actually kind of.. fun?

When the flick begins, even though it feels like a decade later, we're told it's 1988. Three sexy ladies are heading to a metal show somewhere in the Hoosier state, when news breaks that a satanic cult has once again murdered innocent people. Death count is now at eighteen. The girls blow it off, but when they meet some potentially sketchy dudes pre-gaming it outside of their date rape-y van, not only are freak flags flying, but red ones are, too.

In a move that almost jettisoned me from my couch, the girls are into these dudes, and these bootleg Jack Black-types get the invite to Daddy's house in the middle of nowhere. Daddy's big ass house. Uh, y'all sure about that?

From there, the shit hits the fan, though in a way that many of you will probably see coming a mile away. Me, I wasn't thinking with my big head, and what goes down next totally knocked me on my ass. No, it wasn't an unnecessary shower scene set to Quiet Riot's Bang Your Head, though that would have been (pathetically) appreciated, but instead a fairly grisly murder. Yeah, turns out the darkness that was summoned was like legit evil, where I was hoping it was a collective name given to Dadarrio's boobs. Though let's be honest, they're more like the sun.