Once Upon a Time, The World Was Very Boring

Cannibals! Felicity! Genital Feasts!

It would take a lot for this movie not to work, right?

Quick Plot: A grad student named Kate (a straight-haired, monotone speaking Keri Russell) has moved to Germany to write her thesis on the infamous cannibal murder of Oliver and Simon (based on the bizarre real-life case of Armin Meiwes). As Kate investigates what led these two men to such extremes, we watch flashbacks of, well, what led these two men to such extremes. Just like Kate investigates. And then we watch. Her investigate.

For a movie about sexy thrill-seeking cannibals, Grimm Love sure is a drag. The film gets to a terribly drab start with Russell's Valium-induced voiceover, a rambling soliloquy about loneliness and the desire to find someone who can see inside of you. If the content didn't seem dull enough, perhaps the fact that Russell's enthusiasm makes Harrison Ford's Blade Runner exposition sound like Robin Williams' Aladdin Genie should clue you in.

Directed by Martin Weisz (he of the recent Hills Have Eyes 2, and yes, that's the one with more rape and less dog flashbacks than Wes Craven's original), Grimm Love is indeed a grim tale. I don't mean that as a compliment. Weighted down in dark eyeshadow and raccoon liner, Keri Russell is woefully miscast, though the character of Kate is even more woefully underdeveloped. IMDB trivia explains that a lot of scenes were eliminated from the final cut, which on one hand, explains the incompleteness, but on the other, is horrifying in itself. The Netflix streaming edition ran at 94 minutes, and while I've had had dental work that lasted longer, I swear it felt like a breeze compared to what must have been the LONGEST 94 MINUTE MOVIE OF ALL TIME.

This was a slog.

The idea is certainly ripe for a film adaptation. Why WOULD a man willfully submit himself to be eaten (penis-first) by a stranger, and what kind of stranger has such a particular appetite? It's almost as if Grimm Love figured out all too late that such questions are truly fascinating when explored, not when we watch them be explored by a third party. As Kate tracks down news articles and breaks into abandoned homes, we get flashbacks that follow both men through their child and adult years. Early scenes are even (rather annoyingly) portrayed as if they were grainy 8MM projections, a trick that might work in a better movie but here felt like a last-ditch effort to bring something visually interesting to the otherwise drab palette.

I never thought I'd be so bored by a film that includes a scene where a man--not just any man, but Karate Dog's Thomas Kretschmann, for pete's sake--made an anatomically correct male figure out of butter and ate the phallus as if it were the last Twinkie on the shelf. Maybe it was the fact that the previous scene featured his soon-to-be meal begging a hooker to, and I quote, "Bite my thing off!" that killed the element of surprise. Maybe my standards are insanely high when it comes to anatomically correct butter men and Karate Dog alumni.

Or maybe Grimm Love is just a boring movie.

High Notes
Look, I'm not arguing with the IDEA behind Grimm Love, right down to its exploration of two gay men with mother issues and insecurities. THAT'S practically golden. But when you chop it up and let a dull grad student shoot it out with the energy of a sloth, you end up with--

Low Notes
This movie

Stray Observations
At 31, I'm at an age where I and my peers could indeed decide to complete our college education with a masters degree or doctorate. And yet, of all my friends and acquaintances, I think I know two currently enrolled. So why, I ask, is approximately 83% of all horror film protagonists grad students? Do they just make better movie prey, or do I just hang out with the uneducated?

Lessons Learned
A bedroom says a lot about a person

One should always find the right balance between cannibalism and sunshine

People taste like pork

Rent/Bury/Buy
Unless your number one sexual fantasy is watching a pseudo-goth grrrrl Felicity surf the internet, I suggest you give Grimm Love a pass. Sure, it's more competently made than a good deal of the grad-student-based horror films currently streaming on Instant Watch, but if the price of decent product values is anything interesting onscreen, then you can give me my shot-on-video boom mike falls any day.

So I Finally Saw the Bratz Movie

Next to Paula Abdul, I am fairly certain that I, Emily Elizabeth Intravia, have invested more time and energy in Bratz: The Movie than any other mere mortal who has not gone on to receive a reward from it, monetary or otherwise. It all began when the first Netflix disc arrived with the radius drawn out as one giant crack. Bad luck, I thought, perhaps to be blamed on a careless mailman. I immediately requested a replacement, for it wasn’t the Bratz’s (Bratz’? Bratz’z? they never taught that sort of punctuation in college) fault that DVDs are a flimsy invention, and I had already vowed to watch the adventures of the live action version of a lawsuit-pending Barbie knockoff product line for The Shortening. True, the movie has nothing to actually do with dolls or the vertically challenged, but considering its inspiration—a multimillion dollar fashion toy empire coveted by children and hated by adults—it seemed like a good February fit. 

The gods of film did not agree.

Disc 2 arrived. As I removed it from its sleeve, I was reminded of any teenage character in a film with a penchant for self-mutilation. The DVD surface resembled a horribly scarred stab victim, crisscrossed with what I imagine were key marks or fingernail imprints. Somebody did not want me to watch this movie.

Here’s what I learned about myself from my Bratz experience: if I ever end up in a haunted house filled with a helpful ghost who tries, night after night, to convince me to leave before my soul is taken, I am as good as damned. I heed no warnings. I do not back away from evil. I listen to no one.

I requested a third disc. And it arrived. Unscathed.

Now armed with the knowledge that DVDs of Bratz: The Movie are an endangered species with a 33% survival rate, I decided it was my duty to thoroughly explore this special edition for future generations. Hence, rather than approach the film as one typically would, I turned on the director commentary track—yes, there is a director commentary track for the Bratz movie—and dove in.

Quick Plot: It’s the first day of high school for four over-accessorized clear-skinned teenagers who instantly vow to be friends forever, even though their interests in extracurricular activities don’t match. See, Cloe (answer you’re seeking: I don’t know if she’s aware that she spells her name wrong) is blond and a soccer star. Sasha is a black cheerleader. Jade is Asian and therefore, pressured by her mother to be the top Mathlete, violinist, and chemistry student. Then there’s Yasmin, whose thing is sometimes journalism, sometimes music, and when at home, being Spanish.

Oh, because you’re wondering, this is Yasmin:

Dios mio, amiright chicas?

At Carry Nation High, the class president/token blond villain Meredith enforces a rigid code of socialization, where jocks only play with jocks, Mathletes only math with other Mathletes, and Kids Who Dress Like Dinosaurs only dress like dinosaurs with Kids Who Dress Like Dinosaurs. It’s a cruel system akin to centuries of racial segregation, and when our perky freshmen heroines threaten the status quo, a movie plot is born.

I knew I was in for something terribly special/specially terrible when I chose to watch a movie based on a product that makes Barbie look Gertrude Stein. I knew this even more when the opening credits rolled with three magical words, the likes of which I haven’t seen since a certain Briard showed off his martial arts skills:

“And Jon Voight”

Midnight Cowboy. Coming Home. Deliverance. Bratz: The Movie.

The beauty of the American right to free choice is not lost on this man.

Voight plays a filthy rich high school principal constantly berated by his spoiled daughter Meredith and probably very uncomfortable in facial and ear prosthetics. Why does Jon Voight wear a fake nose and set of ears? Director Sean McNamara does not explain this (and yes, we can all probably figure it out on our own), although he does praise the Oscar winner for bringing his own ideas to his character and rewrites to the script. I don’t know about you, but this bit of trivia puts me in a confusing place: on one hand, it’s nice to know Voight doesn’t phone in performances, even when, you know, PLAYING A SUPPORTING ROLE IN THE BRATZ MOVIE. On the other, it’s almost sadder to know that someone with the talent of Jon Voight actually cared about this film. It takes the easy excuse of ‘he just needed a paycheck’ or ‘he was high on goofballs’ or ‘the director was dangling a Butterfinger just out of his reach’ out of the equation, making Jon Voight a true enigma for our time to ponder.

Less mysterious, but still noteworthy are a few other faces that stop by. Olympic silver medalist figure skater Sasha Cohen plays an unmemorable cheerleader. Tom Hanks’ Twitter star son Chet does, according to the director, his very own kung fu moves as a science nerd. Future Glee star Kevin McHale performs some slick boyband moves. Kadeem Hardison plays a divorced dad, Lanie Kazan is a Spanish/Jewish bubbie, and an elephant steals the show playing an elephant.

I am too good a person to insult any of the young actresses shouting “BFF!” over, and over, and over and over and over and over (and over) again. As pretty teenagers wearing tacky jewelry go, the girls are on par with any Babysitters Club caliber performance. A DVD extra includes a behind-the-scenes look at casting, where one producer notes “We were looking for girls who are not terribly defined.” I imagine this translates into “not TOO ethnic,” leaving us with one sorta Asian, a green eyed African American, and a hilariously strawberry blond Latina who confirms her background by knowing all the words to La Cucaracha and living in the kind of household that has a mariachi band stationed in the kitchen on a weekday morning.

No, I’m serious. Estoy seriouso!

“A lot of shoes were worn in this movie,” director McNamara notes on his solo commentary track. This comes only twenty minutes or so after he compares one of his shots to Hitchcock with a stunningly sincere sense of enthusiasm. A longtime Disney and Nickelodeon employee, McNamara has nothing but glowing compliments for his movie and cast, and by the end of the film, it’s almost hard to resist his Corky St. Claire confidence.  

High Notes

In perfect honesty, there are some positive messages to glean from Bratz: The Movie. The young actresses are thankfully less scantily clad than their doll namesakes (because to be otherwise is illegal at their age), and the characters do make valiant efforts to maintain good relationships with their friends and family. So while the results are laughable, I won’t fault the heart of the film. Just its skill.

Low Notes

Any film that features product placement for MTV’s My Super Sweet Sixteen has a hot seat reserved in hell

In a perfect world, and I say this knowing there’s a full-size recliner for me reserved in hell, the actresses playing Bratz would have gone through extensive head implants to better match their plastic counterparts

Lessons Learned

Real friends cancel their ski trips when their pals need a hand

Juggling is not talent show worthy

Divorce isn’t that bad, so long as you have two incredibly wealthy parents

Words that rhyme with brattitude include platitude, latitude, gratitude, and attitude

As Glee already taught me, high school is different today than in the late ‘90s when I was there: for the 21st century youth, it is no longer acceptable to participate in more than one extracurricular activity. Consider it the new 1-Child Act

Rent/Bury/Buy

Did Bratz: The Movie live up to my expectations? Certainly, but I never said I had good taste. This is as ridiculous as any entertainment based on skanky dolls ever was, made all the more so when you turn on Sean McNamara’s earnest commentary track. The DVD is embarrassingly rich in special features, with mini-specials on casting the leads, choreographing the music, and giving tips on how you—yes, YOU!—can dress just like your favorite Brat(z). Those with a soft spot for just-how-bad-can-this-be? will find plenty to enjoy here. Those with standards need not apply.

The Karate Dog (because any clever title I come up with will not be as amusing as "The Karate Dog")

The Karate Dog is one of those titles that one shouldn’t say without a smile, mostly because of the very insistent use of the article “the.” See, this ain’t Cop Dog or Ghost Cat: with a supporting performance from Pat Morita, that “the” is most definitely important.

Aaaaaaaand the movie features Jon Voight engaged in karate combat with a dog voiced by Chevy Chase that naked DWI country star Randy Travis wrote a song about. 

You can’t tell me you’re not smiling.

Quick Plot: Cho Cho is a Briard that can speak to his owner, Chin Li, a karate master with a mysterious but incredibly powerful green goo. Before you can say wax on, a band of ninjas break into Chin Li’s home to steal said goo, fighting the old man in the process and leaving him to slowly die of a heart attack while Cho Cho watches on sadly.

You know the phrase “phoned-in performance?” I think it can be used quite literally here, as Chevy Chase most likely recorded his barely caring dog lines via AT & T. Moving on…

Cho Cho is determined to catch the men responsible for his pal’s death and thusly does he team up with Peter Fowler (former porn star/MTV veejay/‘90s trivia question Simon Rex), a technologically obsessed nerd of a detective who seems to have no understanding of the word ‘warrant.’ Fowler is stuck with a crush on a sweet and naturally single young beat cop (Jaime Pressly, and only now do I realize how oddly spelled her name is) and a boss growing tired of his antics. Even though he doesn’t actually have any antics. “Tired of hero’s antics” just seems to be a thing that occurs quite often here in Animals Doing Human Stuff Month.

Anyway, some sleuthing leads Cho Cho and Fowler to the greyhound racetrack of one Hamilton Cage, a gloriously hammed up Jon Voight who is villainously using Chin Li’s goo as a steroid for his dogs…and himself, much to the comic value of later seeing Jon Voight engaged in karate.

With a dog.

A creepy CGI dog.

Shudder.

When making a talking, driving, karate chopping dog movie, a filmmaker like Bob Black Christmas Clark has a few decisions to make. Among the most important: how to make titular dog talk, drive, head a conga line, use a urinal, and of course, karate chop. This being 2002, animatronics were already on their way out in favor of cheap ‘n dirty CGI. But the late (and quite often great) Clark was a classy guy and wouldn’t quite let go of some good old fashioned canine trained thespians and puppet work.

Thusly do we arrive at this karate dog with a mixture of occasional awwwwws (because it’s a cute enough well-trained dog) and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhs (because CGI dogs standing on two legs and acting like humans is incredibly disturbing). Some people don’t like to see Muppets in full frame…

I do not like to see CGI dogs on two legs dancing in conga lines.

Or doing housework

Sadly once seen, the CGI dog conga line cannot be unseen, rendering The Karate Dog as scary an experience as Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things or Clark’s underrated gem, Deathdream. As if to further send younger viewers into immediate series of nightmares, The Karate Dog ends with Cho Cho performing Chantily Lace with a complete jazz band of other dogs, including a Dalmatian on bass. It just…ain’t. right.

I always considered myself an open-minded, liberal person. And yet hearing Chevy Chase’s lazy vocals come through the mouth of an awkwardly positioned Briard wearing a suit made me think “too far.” It’s as if Ally McBeal’s dancing baby fantasy finally found its canine counterpart, and it’s an awful, awful thing to behold.

What dark days we once lived amongst

High Points

There’s a wonderfully over-the-top, deep slow motioned voice “Noooooooooooooooooooooooo” shoutout by Jaime Pressly towards the film’s climax that I simply refuse to believe wasn’t placed there for hilarious, intentional comedy

Low Notes

When was the last time an actor playing a film’s title character didn’t get a credit? In a world of Mooses and Kumas, what a shame it is that the briard occasionally turned into a horrific CGI creation doesn’t get his own name listed in the part of Cho Cho

Lessons Learned

Talking like a human is like riding a bike

Every dog has his day...you know?

Just cause someone’s a dog doesn’t mean they can’t smell a rat

Early 21st century ninja villains were quite the fans of Momenshuntz

Look! It’s…

The voice of Lori “Kit Keller” scratching out the voice of Peter’s computer

And Hey! How About…

The fat guy from Varsity Blues as Hamilton’s son. Actor Ron Lester might very well have the saddest IMDB profile bio of anyone I’ve ever read: “Ron Lester gained celebrity status at an early stage in his career, but his draw in Hollywood seemed to be based on one physical characteristic - his weight. Obese since 5 years old, by the time he was 30 years old, Ron weighed 508 pounds. Hollywood hired him as the lovable fat kid but his health was in serious danger. With the support of his friends, family, and co-workers, Ron decided to go through an experimental (at the time) type of gastric bypass surgery that almost took his life. When he recovered from flat-lining on the operating table Ron began to lose the weight - and his celebrity identity. 348 pounds were lost in under two years and he's had 14 plastic surgeries to tighten and remove excess skin. Now Ron has a hard time getting the roles he once won. Admits food was his 'drug of choice' to cover up pain from often being the new kid in school (he changed schools often due to discipline problems), and the death of 22 close friends and family members throughout his life.”

Gee…well…um…dogs playing poker anyone?

And Wow! I can’t believe it’s…

The overused slide whistle from Ed making a cameo appearance to signify antics

Standard Animals Doing Stuff Trope Checklist

New Kid In Town: X

Recent Dead or Divorced Parent: Check (providing a karate master who feeds a dog qualifies)

Montage: X. I don’t want to talk about how disappointing that is

New Friendship: Check

Potentially Inappropriate ‘Friendship’ Between Child & Unrelated Adult (Human): X. I don’t think there is a single cast member under the age of 30

Evil Corporate Enemy: Check

Original Song: CHECK! Check INFINITY! Check AMAZING! Check Possibly Replacing the Song In Ozzie As My Wedding or Funeral or Wrestling Entrance music

Bully Comeuppance: X 

Small Town Values: X

Back To Nature Moral: X

Overall Score: 3/10. Though Randy Travis’ lustrous vocals kind of add one thousand and one million points…

A-Paws Meter

For all its ridiculousness, The Karate Dog isn’t quite as joyous as one would seem. Like all ADHS movies, there’s far too much human storyline that simply can’t compare to dogs playing poker, although when they DO play poker, they’re creepy CGI incarnations. That being said, The Karate Dog does have a lot of fun about it: Voight’s go-for-broke performance channels his Anaconda efforts, and the very fact that Randy “Naked DWI” Travis wrote a title song is the stuff made of greatness.