MISUNDERSTOOD MASTERPIECE: GRANDMA'S BOY

It takes a lot for me to watch ANY post-Billy Madison/Happy Gilmore Adam Sandler-related movie. I know Sandler only produced Grandma's Boy but his name was still all over the advertising which was enough to keep me away for almost two years before finally watching it thanks to the persistence of my friends who just knew I would love this movie. Ever since the late 90's, Allen Covert (star of Grandma's Boy) and the rest of Adam Sandler's “J.V. team” made up of; Peter Dante & Jonathan Loughram, have been playing the background in all of his shitty films. By 2006 it was time for Sandler to step aside and give his friends the spotlight. There were elements that coulda made this a disaster - mostly unknown/secondary actors who at that point had only been in bad movies, an appearance from Rob Schneider (sorry, but he just isn’t funny to me) and not only was this film associated with Adam Sandler but there was the strong possibility that he'd have a cameo too (thankfully he didn’t). But at the same time what did Happy Madison productions seriously have to lose? Grandma's Boy was only made with a 5 million dollar budget (which it DID recoup BEFORE DVD sales, thank you very much). That’s just a fraction of what Sandler's other films cost to make. Let’s face it - this movie is a winner. It’s probably one of the last great American comedies along with Harold & Kumar and The Footfist Way. I understand that a small film like Grandma’s Boy would be downplayed or forgotten about in a year where we saw bigger stuff like The Da Vinci Code or An Inconvenient Truth released, but 7 years later after all the dust settled – do you hear anyone talking about either of those films? They don’t matter anymore. I think it’s pretty clear that Grandma’s Boy stood the test of time. Do you see me writing about The Da Vinci Code? No. Grandma’s Boy is so great that it even gets a pass on the not-so subtle racism that we witness during the last half of the film (there’s a random African Bushman character that’s clearly modeled after the pro wrestler; Kamala). Now, Grandma’s Boy isn’t without plenty of cringeworthy & hack moments like monkey humor (literally) & typical stoner jokes (I’m not a smoker so that kinda humor doesn’t always work on me). There’s even moments where you can seriously tell a particular scene shoulda been re-shot due to bad acting, bad timing, badly executed jokes & awkward moments but overall - the good elements of Grandma’s Boy greatly outweigh the bad.

It seems like more knowledgeable cinephiles & film lovers like myself are becoming more open about their love for stupidly brilliant comedies. I won’t name names but I know specific people reading this right now who have the same love for the films of Kubrick & Cassavetes as much as they do for Saving Silverman & Dr. Detroit.

2006 was a great year for dumb guilty pleasure comedies - Grandma's Boy, Beerfest, and the highly underrated Lets Go To Prison (sorry but that was funny too me as was its follow-up; Brothers Solomon). Had it not been for Grandma's Boy, Sandler wouldn’t have one credible title to his name in the last decade (outside of Punch Drunk Love which really doesn't count). The actual plot to Grandma’s Boy doesn’t even really matter all that much but if it’s really that important to you - it’s the story of a former accountant turned video game tester ("Alex") who has to move in with his Grandmother and her two other elderly roommates after he gets evicted from his apartment due to his former roommate secretly using their rent money on hookers. Even though he has his issues living in a house full of old women (one of which is convinced he’s gay), he's pretty content with his rent-free, video game playing life (he's even secretly working on his own video game). Conflict arises when his boss; “JP” (a computer nerd who thinks he’s Keanu Reeves from The Matrix) steals Alex’s video game idea for his own. Now Alex’s grandmother (the only other person who knows how to play the game) has to face off against JP for ownership. Grandma's Boy is pretty much every man's dream - a movie about a guy in his mid-30's who lives rent free at his Grandmother's house, works as a video game tester and gets the girl in the end. Does life really get any better than that? And not to get too serious about a movie like Grandma's boy but it does touch on how a lot of adults in their late 20's/early 30's feel about employment - fear of responsibility, monotony of office work, etc (I know that's how I'm feeling these days). Although I'm not in to video games, Grandma’s Boy features so many things I like or find hilarious in one package - Kevin Nash (one of my all time favorite professional wrestlers), a pre-Bucky Larson Nick Swardson and the kinda lines that are funny weather they're in or out of context like; "I can’t believe you came on my mom", "Eat that frog dick, Timmy", "You’ve been spending our rent money on Filipino hookers?" & "YOU’RE a hooker!" David Spade’s cameo alone as the angry Vegan made up for the awful Benchwarmers, another Adam Sandler-related disappointment that’s unfortunately associated with Grandma’s Boy that came out in the same year. But I guess we shoulda seen that one coming given it stared Napoleon Dynamite & Rob Schnieder. And Benchwarmers isn’t the only disappointment that taints Grandma’s Boy’s legacy. Strange Wilderness, the unofficial sequel to Grandma's Boy that features half of its cast, was a huge letdown. Fans of comedies like Grandma’s Boy, Superbad, Beerfest & Super Troopers were expecting greatness from Strange Wilderness but what we got were two laughs (three if you’re being generous) in 80-something minutes. Now, Grandma’s Boy IS an acquired taste. If you like dumb yet awesome comedies, films like The Wizard and your Grandmother, then this is a winner. If you take yourself or your status as an uppity film snob too seriously then you should probably pass. Personally I think we all need a comedy full of dick & boob jokes from time to time.

MOVIE FOR CHRISTMAS: SILENT NIGHT, DEADLY NIGHT: PART 2 (SPECIAL GUEST WRITER: DOUG FRYE)

I've been so busy trying to finish this end of the year movie wrap-up (which should be ready some time next week) that I didn't give myself enough time to do a Christmas movie entry. Luckily my good friend Doug Frye (one of the few people I know that truly understands this terrible masterpiece of a film) was available to write about the movie I had in mind - Silent Night, Deadly Night: Part 2.

If you haven't read his piece on The Punisher that was part of our Expendables Special back in august or tuned in to his Schlock Treatment Podcast at some point, you're doing yourself a disservice.

Enjoy...

    
  Smash.

      -The Incredible Hulk 

      Punish. 

      -Billy Caldwell 

      Naughty! 

      -Ricky Caldwell

Some monsters come alive with a single word, as if by magic. When not magical creatures, they must be surely gamma-irradiated—I assume this to be the case with Billy and Ricky, the Hulk-strong brothers starring in, respectively, Silent Night, Deadly Night and its sequel. In deference to whomever Mr. Pinn has tapped to review the original, I’ll stick to writing about Silent Night, Deadly Night 2 as best I can, though somewhere between forty-five and sixty percent of the sequel consists of scenes from the original film presented as flashbacks. In fact, nearly all of the film’s action takes place in flashback, as Ricky relates his story (and his older brother, Billy’s) to his court appointed psychologist. Ricky has apparently been placed in the most minimum-security facility they could find, without a single guard present. I think SN,DN2 might be a revolutionary film, in that only the black guy setting up the recording equipment for Ricky’s session survived the film, a feat he accomplishes this by not trusting the murderer not to murder him. He’s the closest thing resembling security, and he’s a tech. This becomes even more ridiculous as Ricky’s story unfolds. He relates his earliest experience, a carjacker in a Santa suit killing his parents while he was just a baby. These are actually his brother’s earliest memories, but it’s cheaper for the producers to just recycle these. Long flashback short, Billy endures a brutal upbringing by nuns that combines with his childhood trauma, resulting in him killing a lot of people and leaving a murderous legacy to Ricky.

A couple, the Rosenbergs (perfect because they’ll “have nothing to do with Christmas”), adopts young Ricky, though even after having never been informed of the multiple traumas that Ricky has lived through, they still can’t seem to handle him, like when the mother shushes him as he trembles at the presence of a murder of nuns (a pack of nuns is called a murder). I thought at the scene where the parents went to the nice Sister Mary, they might be giving him back to the orphanage, just to rub some salt in his wounded psyche, but no, they keep him until their deaths, in about ten years. So, to recap the events: no one has made the slightest attempt to help this kid process his trauma—the closest thing he’s had to therapy are regular sister-issued beatings and being called “naughty.” The latter plays a big part in his development.
Ricky’s big break as a murderer comes in a deserted field, where he happens upon a picnicking couple for some reason. There’s no explanation for why he’s walking out there so far from anything. Anything, that is, save the film’s third attempted rape scene in only forty-five minutes (two of which came from the original film, in case you needed its actual legacy). Only Ms. 45 can compete with that kind of efficiency. This provides Ricky the opportunity at a sympathetic killing, driving over a redneck would-be-rapist with his own red jeep. While I found this detail unimportant, Ricky’s therapist felt the need to write down and highlight RED CAR in his notes. Ricky follows this up with a second killing—a mob enforcer collecting a gambling debt in the alley behind Ricky’s workplace. This is truly Ricky’s finest example of his handiwork, as well as the place where his gamma-irradiated genes come alive. Though the goon outsizes him significantly, Ricky is able to lift him off his feet singlehandedly, freeing his other hand to fish an umbrella from the garbage, spear the guy through his belly, and still have the dexterity to open the now blood soaked umbrella. It puts the much more popular “Garbage Day!” to shame. It won’t be Ricky’s last feat of superhuman strength, but it remains his most impressive.

Now, Ricky has developed a taste for blood, but presumably also for defending the weak from their tormentors. The film should have stuck to this logic, developing Ricky as a kind of pre-Dexter antihero. Instead, he’s all over the place, killing indiscriminately, and his “Naughty” catchphrase loses any meaning by the time he reaches the shooting sequence that’s the reason you’ve heard of this movie. At the end of this rampage, he’s just blindly shooting anyone who crosses his path. There is no punishment being delivered, just a massacre being enacted without any sense of Ricky’s busted moral compass guiding him. It’s unintentionally hilarious, but also drags the movie down in its abandonment of Ricky’s logic. Oh, and Ricky finishes his therapy session by making good on the veiled threats against his counselor, something he should have taken more seriously than the paintjob on cars his patient confiscated, leading to said patient escaping to the sounds of “Oh God, he’s loose!” into the completely unguarded facility holding this dangerous, super-powered psychopath.

From here, the movie gets confusing, devolving into a standard “slasher-stalks-heroine” act, except that the heroine is an aged, burn-scarred Mother Superior, the same nun who tormented young Billy so much that he went insane. The scene goes through all the classic beats, except I don’t want this evil woman to survive—I’m rooting much more for the demented result of her child-rearing approach. The whole scene ends up about as you would expect, with cops gunning down the now Santa-suited Ricky and him proving to be still alive for the promise of a sequel.



Had star Eric Freeman been available and interested, I’d have been game for a sequel, too. His weird energy and mugging in lieu of offering true menace carried the film to the cult status that it currently enjoys (according to the producers in a DVD commentary track, Freeman has vanished without a trace). While I won’t pretend that this is good, intended to be, or stood a chance to be on its meager roots, Sn,Dn2 is far more entertaining than it has any right to be. Could “Garbage Day!” have been a written line, or is Freeman an ad-libbing genius? I’ll probably never know, but he made this film. Even better, I’d love a Punisher­-style part three featuring the return of both Ricky and Billy as twin murderous Santas, exacting punishment on all the naughty people at Christmastime, like two parents fighting over Cabbage Patch Dolls and Ticklish Elmos. Had they actually embraced the camp factor and dumped the slasher tropes, the Caldwell clan’s adventures could have continued for as long as Freddy Krueger managed to churn out sequels.
Well, they could have reached at least Leprechaunesque heights. Silent Night, Deadly Night in the Hood, anyone?

COUNTDOWN TO EXPENDABLES 2: I COME IN PEACE (*SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER: JOHN CRIBBS*)

I seriously don't care if the Expendables sequel is now out in theaters, thus making the "Countdown" part of the title to this blog entry pointless. We've got more epicness in store (and to be honest, I didn't even see Expendables 2 this past weekend. I saw Beasts Of The Southern Wild). In this next Expendables entry John Cribbs (the other half of the Pink Smoke) breaks down a movie that's very near & dear to my heart: I COME IN PEACE - Another underrated Dolph Lundgren film that for some strange reason hasn't really stood the test of time. As I stated in The Punisher intro, John is the only other person worthy enough to write about something Dolph Lundgren-related besides Doug Frye & myself.

Enjoy...

In his first major role, Dolph Lundgren played Ivan Drago, the genetically-perfected personification of American xenophobia. At the time of its release, the Reagan administration was in full swing and people in the states were nervous about what schemes those nefarious Russkies might be cooking up. Since they never sent the bombs over, suspicions instead turned to the superhuman athletes they sent to the Olympics. Tensions were so highly raised between countries that the U.S. boycott of the Moscow-hosted 1980 games seemed as much a protest against the Soviet Union's sturdily-built champions as it was the war in Afghanistan (the Russians responded in kind by snubbing the 1984 games in Los Angeles.) By creating Drago, Sly Stallone seemed to be putting on screen what many a Soviet-mistrusting Yank suspected: Russian athletes were, in fact, lab-grown killing machines specifically bred to infiltrate our shores and conditioned to murder our most charming celebrity boxers, forcing James Brown to flush anything he had on him and "split" before the cops arrived on the scene. Drago embodied every negative stereotype against foreigners: he's cold, rude, remorseless, homicidal, unpatriotic and, most alarmingly, blonde - truly a menacing Red Grant for the 80's. His naturally hard expression and impenetrable Riefenstahlan exterior stereotyped Dolph (in reality, a Swede) as specifically "non-American" and he played a Russian in three of his first four movies. Even in his non-Russian debut he played an Eternian, once again the fish-out-of-water foreigner, albeit the more polished, polite and social He-Man: he may have been the hero, but he still had to figure out such radical American concepts as fried chicken and clothes.

So when the great Craig R. Baxley was tasked with Americanizing the Siberan Express, he did three things: he darkened Dolph's hair, let him live indoors (as the Punisher he had to hang around naked in the sewer) and gave him an even more imposing foreign adversary in the form of an 8-foot albino alien drug dealer who lands in Houston (of course) and embarks on a human killing spree. At first this big bad mother from another planet seems like an avenging dark angel, eviscerating a group of yuppie gangsters who just wasted Dolph's partner, but it turns out the alien just needs to steal heroin from these guys so he can inject it into his victims, thus producing an explosion of endorphins which he then depletes with a nasty looking endorphin extractor. As it so happens endorphins are premium product in whatever galaxy he comes from and his mission, if successful, will result in wave after wave of similarly unstoppable extraterrestrial lowlifes coming to Earth to cheaply harvest those sweet sweet peptides once the word's out on "the street." I guess they'll all have to luck out and score a giant batch of heroin upon their arrival like ol' Talec (the alien's name according to the credits, never mentioned onscreen*) or target tread mills around the globe to take advantage of exercise nuts excreting endorphins during a runner's high.

Aliens have always been the ultimate cinematic corruptors from Don Siegel's Invasion of the Body Snatchers to Jack Sholder's The Hidden (which would make a great double feature with ICIP), and Talec is the Earth tourist from hell. He only knows two things: destruction on an apocalyptic scale, and the ironic catchphrase "I come in peace," his standard greeting to those he's about to relieve of their precious endorphins. Talec's use of this false assurance, stemming from a pop cultural staple emblematic of American optimism for a future of universal peace and unity, is thankfully never explained by any of the characters or, god forbid, a terrible scene where after Talec's just landed and happens to glance at a TV playing some old sci fi B-movie and picks up the phrase from the film's alien visitor. His only other line, in the last scene, is "I win!" which he states very clearly and in the proper context, so he must understand enough English to know what he's saying. He couldn't say "I come in peace" to catch people off-guard: more often than not he says it after he's already subdued his victim, or as he's sucking him dry. No, the implication seems to be that a shifty, colorless, leather-clad foreigner will come bearing glad tidings and offers of peace and then it's all killer flying discs and non-consensual lumbar punctures, his subversive adapting of the term "I come in peace" a perversion of one of our most iconic commodities like an 8-foot albino KAWS painting. The pattern of Talec's killings is seemingly random: at first it seems like he's going after anyone with a gun Predator-style, but soon his list of endorphin suppliers vary in age, race and sex as if the very concept of multiple cultures in a single country is a detestable tenet that should be eradicated - all for the sake of drug trafficking, itself an import from areas outside the U.S. (and now from beyond the stars.) This cosmic dilla has to be dealt with and sent home - in pieces!

So Dolph gets cowboy'd up as a cop named Caine and rises up to exact some biblical vengeance on this intergalactic Goliath. It does have to be pointed out that his revenge is somewhat misguided, since Talec didn't technically kill his partner, who - despite holding an MBA from the University of Suck My Dick - isn't smart enough to realize when his cover's been blown and gets executed by a drug gang while Dolph's busy thwarting an unrelated violent crime happening at the same time (you know how Houston is.) I'd say Dolph, who no doubt identified with the role of the invading foreigner he would have been playing not a year or two earlier, made a subconscious decision to go after the alien to assuage the guilt over not being there for his partner, but Caine is so clearly into himself - and with good cause. He's not a greasy, unshaven shell of his former self like Sly in Cobra, Eastwood in The Gauntlet or Rourke in any movie of his from the last 20 years: he's impeccably clean and put-together, a trend Dolph would continue in Showdown in Little Tokyo that would go on to inspire good grooming and presentable hygiene in modern action stars like the typically dapper Statham (and this was coming off The Punisher, in which you could practically smell the sewer coming off Dolph from the screen.) Still, his new partner, FBI agent Brian Benben, criticizes Dolph's "particular look," which is no more than a suede jacket over a black dress shirt (occasionally unbuttoned) with an Elvis cut. All part of Dolph's new American image, complete with a spacious and clean bachelor pad that causes Benben to retract his earlier comment with an apologetic "I guess I figured you wrong." It's a great character moment for both of them, because it establishes that Dolph, although he may be distrustful of authority and just might play by his own rules more often than the rules of others, has his shit together while Benben is a superficial consumer who judges people by their wine collection. Later on, he hogs a confiscated alien gun like it's his new Christmas toy nobody else is allowed to play with.

Which makes sense since the movie takes place during the holiday season, as aggressively established in the opening scene where a guy listening to Christmas music in his car gets angry when the cd skips, skids into a Christmas tree lot, then exits the vehicle and angrily pronounces "Merry fucking christmas!" to himself. The Christmas music continues throughout the film and one victim is shown watching It's a Wonderful Life on tv while drinking egg nog, but none of this yuletide joy seems at all relevant to the plot itself. So why set it at Christmas, besides the obvious parallels between the visiting alien and notorious endorpin pusher Santa Claus? Because of Die Hard of course! Die Hard had set the bar for all action movies of the late 80's and throughout the 90's, so if a movie wasn't about a bedraggled law enforcement agent standing up to a team of terrorists in a set location or moving vehicle, it had to tap into that DH formula some other way. In its defense however, the action in I Come in Peace - like Action Jackson and Stone Cold before it - is just as impressively directed as anything in the Die Hard films and other more respectable Hollywood fare. Baxley's Holy Trilogy is a milestone in the guiltlessly pleasurable Guns, Girls** and Explosions brand of excessive action cinema because Baxley is so game to go beyond the top. For example, the opening crime is a bunch of guys disguising themselves as cops and heisting drugs from the evidence room (a cool idea!) who, after walking out of the station scot-free, blow up the entire building as "a little insurance." And these aren't even the main villains - that would be the giant alien with a weapon that can be best described as an "explosion gun." Literally, every time he fires the area turns into a raging inferno of detonations. The violent urban environment, where two crimes are going down simultaneously in any given part of town, is ideal for this destructive space invader, and it's notable that Baxley's movie pre-dated Predator 2 by a couple months, making it the original excessive contemporary action movie/sci fi hybrid (Baxley directed second unit on the original Predator.) It's also worth mentioning that, although ICIP came out Terminator, it was ahead of T2 and the overall feel of the movie and beats of the action scenes seem to anticipate where Cameron would take his series into the new decade.

Of course Dolph's memorable response to Talec's title catchphrase, a quip made after he escapes being brain-raped by the heroin-dispensing space tube, is a celebrated classic that the trailer couldn't help but ruin for everybody. Even folks who've never had the fortune of seeing the movie know the "you go in pieces, asshole" line, but those who've missed out have never heard Dolph's equally terrific, climactic slam "Fuck you, spaceman!" The snappy one-liners aren't the only cliché the movie manages to make its own: the straight-laced partner scheme also works a lot better than it should. Benben is a weenie, but he's not always wrong: sometimes Dolph's beloved instincts aren't appropriate to the current situation and more formal procedures are in fact called for. He's obnoxious, but he could be worse - he at least listens to maxims for the Caine Manual such as "Never trust nobody" without correcting Dolph's grammar. And his reactions to these colossal spacemen with sour cream for blood who spontaneously combust when they die are never less than priceless. I used to think Benben made some kind of deal with Satan to pull the stunning Madeleine Stowe, but this movie convinced me that there may have been some amount of charm utilized in his conquest. He and Dolph have great chemistry, with nice back-and-forths like "I'm a team player!" "Well your team sucks." Benben's no Danny Glover, but he's a step above an intelligent German Shepherd or sass-talkin' dinosaur. By the time we cut to the freeze frame and Shooting Star's "Touch Me Tonight" seals the union of these two mismatched alien-besting buddy cops for eternity, Benben has learned to be a little looser and Dolph has become a certified defender of America and the entire goddamn planet.


* Michael J Pollard also plays a character named Boner - can't remember if they call him that in the movie or not.

** Actually the girl in ICIP isn't too hot and feels a bit arbitrary to the goings-on. She's played by Betsy Brantley, Jessica Rabbit's body double and the former Mrs. Steven Soderbergh. She does have a good line aimed at Dolph's unreliable boyfriend of a cop: "This time when you had me wondering if you were dead or alive, I was kind of rooting for dead." Ouch! Wonder if she ever used that one on Soderbergh?

COUNTDOWN TO EXPENDABLES PART 2: ACTION JACKSON (*SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER: PAUL COONEY*)

Up to this moment I didn't think myself & Paul Cooney agreed on ANYTHING movie-related which is funny because I honestly thought we'd hit it off once we finally met. But ever since I met him it seems like all we do is disagree on everything from Miami Vice & Ghost Dog to Jason Statham & Ryan Gosling. Actually I think the only thing we have in common with each other is our love for Akinyele. But not anymore. As it turns out we both share the same love for the classic Carl Weathers film; Action Jackson. I know Carl Weathers isn't part of the Expendables team but with films like THIS, Predator and Rocky 1-4 under his belt, it goes without saying that he's an Expendables alum.

Enjoy...

Detroit! City of not so broad shoulders, the Paris of Nowhere, the mistake that's not necessarily on a lake, long derided as a burnt out hellhole...but when it comes to cinema, when it comes to a places in which to make motion pictures-it is the pinnacle, the apex, the Dolph Lundgren of metropoli! What is my proof? Who the fuck are you to ask! But if you must know, I submit to you the twin pieces of perfection that are Robocop and Action Jackson. Based on those two titans of film alone it seems impossible for a movie made in Motown to be anything less than stupendous! In fact, Hollyweird would be well served doing shot for shot remakes of every classic ever made, but this time setting them in Detroit. Think about it! Do you think E.T. would have even wanted to go back to his crummy planet if he and Henry Thomas had been bicycling around the Motor City instead of nowhere USA? And I dare say those poor unfortunate Hebrews in Schindler's List would have stood a better chance of surviving had they been on Robocop's beat. No way that paragon of justice would have allowed a bummer like the Holocaust to go on for years unchecked!

I digress. The 80s! They were a simpler time were they not? Aids was fresh and exciting, Ron was drooling over Nancy, the Transformers were but cartoons and entirely LaBoeuf free. America wasn't perfect mind you, Duran Duran was running rampant, George Michael was setting ladies up for a devastating let down, and Patrick Dempsey was playing nerds and shitting on houses instead of being his McDreamiest. But at least we had Action Jackson!

Unlike me, director Craig R Baxley wastes no time with nonsense and gets right to the good stuff in the first minute: grenades, gunplay and violence against women . That trio might spoil your average Dora the Explorer episode but it's precisely what the discerning moviegoer during the "Me decade" was looking for. A bunch of long haired killers blast some suit wearing d-bag out a high rise window, turning him into a human fireball that falls 50 stories before crashing through a restaurant and landing, seared and ready to serve, amidst a crowd of screaming diners. Their meals may have been ruined but my appetite has been whetted -for more action! It's no surprise that Baxley went on to direct Stone Cold, clearly he's a true master of his craft.

Mac and cheese this movie is dynamite! As I'm recovering from that hot hot beginning the flick hits me with the opening theme, the Pointer Sisters, "He Turned Me Out". Girl power!

Biff from Back to the Future shows up as a cop with an exasperated black partner in what is clearly the inspiration for Lethal Weapon. Why didn't Biff get the role that later went to Mel Gibson? Racism, pure and simple.

Holy crap! Joel Silver produced this? The man responsible for Commando has another masterpiece on his resume. Somebody get my chisel! Teddy Roosevelt's coming down and Herr Silver is going up on Mt. Rushmore! (Hmmm I'm not sure I can fit that face in just one slot...I may have to bump Jefferson too)

Back to the movie...some innuendo passing as exposition reveals that Action Jackson was born after his mother was "molested by Bigfoot." A slanderous assertion against Bigfoot for sure, but entirely believable. It's not quite as menacing as being the bastard son of a thousand maniacs but close enough! They also speculate that he was created by NASA, which is federal funding we can all get behind. Am I right? I don't pay taxes, but if I did, I would write my congressman and tell that bureaucrat to funnel my fundage straight to the Jason Bourne/Action Jackson super soldier programs.

Finally Carl Weathers himself appears onscreen, in all his glistening glory, mustache in bloom and its power surpassed only by the mountains majesty that are his pecs! I'll let everyone pause and contemplate the absolute bullshit that was Rocky II. There is no way a pint sized ally of the Taliban like Sly Stallone could ever beat Apollo Creed!

Bill Duke, clearly jealous of Weathers' magnificence, bellows as the stupid chief who wants Jackson to play by the rules, even if it compromises results! Whatever chief! A whole bunch of exposition happens and we learn that in addition to having gone to Harvard Law and being well on his way to becoming president, Jax was demoted from Lieutenant to Sergeant after he busted the pervert son of auto titan and all around dick Craig T. Nelson.

Well done screenwriter...I already hated Nelson on account of his eyebrows, but now you tell me he's spawning rapists? I double dog hate him!

Duke delays the death dealing by ordering Jackson to behave himself at a fancypants shindig set up to honor Nelson as Man of the Year or some shit. Jackson keeps it cool at first, but then heats it up by flirting with a not yet decrepit Sharon Stone, who happens to be married to Craig T. Oooo! Hot grits on the stove- things are sizzling now! When Jackson makes a crack to Craig T. about his son being anally violated in prison he officially becomes the life of the party. Well done Weathers!

After the festivities we see someone harpooned and a boat explodes. This movie has it all! And what a cast...the amazing assemblage of talent grows even more spectacular when the limo driver from Die Hard makes an appearance, playing a character named Clovis. Clovis! How ridiculous is that? Hello what's this? Action Jackson's first name is Jericho! Wow. I'm tempted to change my pet turtle's name to either Clovis or Jericho...Clovico?

A debate for cineastes the world over is ignited when we see a commercial for Dellaplane auto company's Halley-the hot, hotter, hottest car on the market! Is it better than Robocop's 5000 Sux? Test drive alert!

OMG! Vanity! America's sweetheart finally graces the screen with her unique brand of smoldering slutitude. Caramba! She's not singing Nasty Girl, but she is wearing a purple dress which must have been an ode to Prince, and her nipples are protruding which surely is an ode to awesome. She slinks over to a seated Craig T. after finishing her tune and says, "I expected a standing ovation."

T rejoins, "You're getting one." Zing scwhing! Houston, we have a boner!

T and Vanity split the club and she whines about wanting some heroin and a record deal. When he asks for two reasons why he should help her she pulls down her dress and exposes her boobies. What a compelling argument! Dress open and case closed! She lays back on the bed and Nelson whips it out...a jewel case containing a "girl's best friend"- sweet heroin! Vanity has never looked happier. Thankfully Baxley has enough sense as a director to cut away from the scene after the injection. (not that kind of injection you perverts). T pushes the needle in but we are spared her further degradation and are left to imagine that hateful man defiling her cocoa loveliness. I always close my eyes at this scene just in case a director's cut exists that shows Craig T. actually touching her. Omg, I can't believe it, the 'star' of Coach with Vanity?? Stop, drop and roll! My eyes are on fire!

If I may digress for a moment I'd like to note that among the great tragedies of the 20th century: genocide, World War I, Cop Rock, etc. the worst of all was Vanity discovering Jesus and becoming a born again virgin. What madness is this? Why would the Cleopatra of ho's throw away her genius for smut and abandon her unparallelled sleazy allure? It's like if Bach abandoned the harpsichord so he could play the spoons full time. Will their ever be another Vanity? I doubt it. And thus we can concede the 21st century's race to debasement to the Chinese, who have absolutely no qualms about using sex appeal and have never even heard of Jesus. What an amazing advantage.

Where was I? Ooo Craig T. vents his rage through some martial arts as one of the hoods from Die Hard looks on! Why is T. so angry? He drives a sweet car, lives in a mansion, rails Sharon Stone and molests Vanity on the side. Look on the bright side little camper! You got a lot going for you! What's the lesson boys and girls? Crime pays.



Speaking of crimes, I would be remiss if I didn't point out the rare mistep from auteur extraordinaire Craig R Baxley. Though he graces the audience with a gratuitous shot of Sharon Stone's boobs as she relaxes in the sauna, he lets her don a towel, whereas a true master like Verhoeven insisted she go the extra mile, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

After her shower she joins Jackson for drinks in the afternoon. (alcoholics?) Their daytime dalliance is interrupted when a rather clumsy attempt is made on Jackson's life via a side swipe by a runaway taxi. WTF! We saw three elaborate hits earlier featuring rappelling, grenade launching, harpoon attacks and suitcase bombs fastened to wrists with handcuffs, all to kill out-of-shape middle-aged white guys, but when it comes time to put bad-ass personified Action Jackson out of commission the plan is to hit the gas and try and clip him as he crosses the street? Do you really think your fender has a chance against his thunder thighs? Wait a minute...am I going to do it? Yes, I'm calling bullshit. Bullshit has been called!

Jackson dodges the taxi like it was the limp wristed punch thrown by that mumbling idiot Rocky, and then shows off his high school track skills by chasing down the speeding cab on foot! Totally amazeballs. If twitter had been around that would have trended for sure. #blackmancatchescab

Back to Vanity! She sings another terrible song but makes up for it by wearing a sheer dress and I enjoy her breasts. While I'm ruminating on her beauty Sharon Stone pokes her little nose into Craig T's bizness, upsetting him to the extent that he gives her the kiss of death, all literal like, bellowing a psychotic, "I LOVE YOU!" as he sucks her face and pumps a bullet through her chest. Boom! Not even Billy Baldwin can save you now Sharon!

In an scene that is even more shocking and harrowing, Jackson bursts into Vanity's dressing room unannounced and discovers her...fully dressed! Oh the disappointment! A golden opportunity to showcase more of her lovely tawny body is missed, and my sadness is overwhelming. Happily things perk up when she shoots up and Jax quips, "You wouldn't by any chance be diabetic?"

No chance! Oh Vanity, you sure play a strung out sexpot well. I wonder where she studied acting.

Jackson and Vanity take a drive through beautiful downtown Detroit. As I admire her cleavage she opines on life, "Honey, romance is where you find it, and I find it wherever and whenever I can." Take that Buddha! You've just been rendered irrelevant you chubby fuck!

Jax wants to squirrel dear Vanity away before Nelson can kill her so he takes her to a really sleazy hotel that is perfect for her. The manager is the dude from Weird Science who said "in the family jewels?" and he chortles while watching Dino bite Fred Flintstone. Vanity mistakes him for Jou Louis and thereby works her way further into my heart.

Once ensconced in the room Jax wants to have a serious talk, but all Vanity wants to do is fuck. He gets all serious about her heroin use and asks, "Why do you do it?"

"What else is there?" Mmm existentialist philosophy emanating from that lustful little frame! You got me convinced Vanity! What else is there indeed? Somebody pass me a needle!

She's had enough of the jibber jabber and finally puts the question we've all be waiting for to Jackson, "One more chance, wanna fuck?"

Incredibly, he has morals or something and turns her down. The next morning she ponders the reasons why he didn't ravage her in all her trashy glory, "Fine looking woman like me and you don't even touch me all night? You either gotta be queer or a cop."

Why not both? Is Action Jackson America's first queer supercop? Stay tuned!

When he tells her, "Dellaplane owns you", she counters with, "He rents me." (Hmm can we get a price check on that?)

Moving along! Once again Jackson finds himself in a bar in the middle of the afternoon and I'm becoming convinced he has a drinking problem. The bartender is one of the henchmen from Commando, the dude Arnold kills on the plane and then quips to the stewardess that he's "dead tired". Lol! Arnold!

Jackson is shown some testicles in a mason jar and in moments we find our hero at the mercy of a crew of cuthroats, (cutscrots?), who say stuff like, "Take a Tom Slick like you and have a blanket party."

I have no idea what that means but it reminds me of my days as a boy scout, memories I long to block out out despite the entreaties of my therapist to share. I don't like blankets!! Leave me alone!!

Holy shit it's Branscombe Richmond! He's about to cut Jackson up til Vanity smolders her way through some improv and saves the day. What a team!

In a bizarre diversion, Jackson winds up at the salon of some chick named Dee, who's trademark is using words with D in them. It's as awesome as it sounds and not the least bit irritating or ridiculous. She even says "defenestration", (foreshadow alert), and refers to Jackson as "indefatigable".

Suddenly I have visions of Jackson teaming up with Horatio Hornblower and tussling with Napoleon mano a mano. Mismatch! That portly little Corsican wouldn't stand a chance!

Whoa! A more fearsome adversary than Napoleon appears, Billy Bear from 48 Hours and Predator in a silver Detroit Lions jacket, and he's pushing smack on Vanity! Weathers to the rescue. After a brawl highlighted by Billy Bear's psychotic grin and propensity for foul language, Jackson quits playing games and defenestrates him! (The window budget on this movie must have been astronomical.)

Let's skip ahead to Vanity's cleavage cause it is probably the most compelling character in the picture. What are its hopes? Joys? Dreams? Does it recoil in horror at the thought of Vince Neil?

Jackson has a plan to end T's shenanigans once and for all, and it naturally involves using Vanity's copious sex appeal as bait. She slinks into a dive bar and passes two burnt out barfly wastrels on the way to her mark- generic business looking dude. He turns from his whiskey to ogle her, and after drinking her in asks, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

After absorbing his leer she rejoins, "I'm not that nice."

AWESOME! Omg...when Steve Jobs reanimates himself and frees Walt Disney from his frozen death chamber, and the two of them work in concert to make the tv in which the viewer can actually meld with the screen and join in on the action, this is the first scene I will meld with! "I'm not that nice"! That's when I appear, with cash in my pocket and malice in my briefs, ready to see just how "not nice" Vanity is! Hurry up and get alive again Jobs! The I-meld. (TM) Make it happen! I want to defile Vanity in a bar full of skels!

While I'm dreaming of Vanity things are starting to look bleak for our man Jackson. Nelson captures him, chains him up, (shirtless of course), and then plays the Bond villain role to a Craig T. (LOL!), revealing all his plans, including confessing to a slew of murders and murders to be. (This in full view of his many many henchmen as well...ummm I don't want to tell a murderous power hungry egomaniac how to do his job but you might want to keep a few secrets! Those henchmen are loyal now but everybody has their price. That reminds me, have we gotten word on what Vanity's price is? Should I get a Kickstarter fund going for that?)

Our hero is helpless as Craig T. taunts him, revealing himself to be a world class meanie and racist in addition to being an all around bad guy. Jackson stays calm cool and collected as T recounts his many misdeeds, until Nelson suddenly ups the evil ante and says that he's going to kill Vanity, but not before he "fucks her one last time." Noooooooooooooooooooo! It's one thing to scheme, and plot, and murder a bunch of less tawny and beautiful nobodies, but to make this threat is going too far! Jackson finally abandons his cavalier air and reacts with fury, jerking his chains...(hmmm he really did. He jerked his chains. I suppose there's another way to phrase that but in any case they were fastened pretty well I guess and he couldn't get out...)

Anyhoo, after instructing his boys to kill Jackson, Craig T. leaves. Haha! T leaves! Why doesn't he stick around for another, oh, 3 minutes and see his nemesis killed? Ummm, he's busy? Evil doesn't take an hour off!

Of course his bungling henchmen botch Jackson's murder and he is freed, with some rather inexplicable help from Vanity's rotund bodyguard. Where the fuck did he come from? In another odd moment, Jackson then shows up at Nelson's murder party without a disguise. Isn't he worried Nelson and his henchmen are going to recognize him? Why did he bring the old guy and the bellhop? Who the fuck is taking care of the hotel guests??

While I'm contemplating these ridiculous things Jackson proceeds to kill a sniper by pulling on some lights...wft? He yanked on some lights? This movie may be running out of steam. Hello what's this? Vanity cries for help! Go Jackson go! He hops in a Dellaplane Hottest and drives it right up a fucking staircase! Amazeballs! He continues his in house vehicular rampage and speeds through the doors to Nelson's bedroom, smashing them open and charging inside! (Good thing Vanity wasn't near the door).

Jackson spies Nelson, who is inexplicably still hellbent on killing Vanity instead of rushing to his waiting chopper and escaping. The game is up Craig T! You should have split, but it's too late now fuckface! Cornered and desperate, T. takes Vanity as a hostage... but wait! He abandons his plan and releases her, challenging Jackson to a one on one, hand to hand fight to the finish instead! What an honorable move! He just won my respect.

Our hero hesitates, suspecting some sort of trap, and Vanity urges him to shoot the now unarmed Craig T. (Not nice Vanity! Oh wait, she plainly stated earlier that she was, in fact, "not that nice". Way to stay in character Vanity!)

They fight, some more glass is broken, Vanity decides not to get involved and leaves her vagina's future in the hands of fate...when fate intervenes and Nelson's guts are splattered all over his wall! It's a happy ending and I'm all ready to break out the marshmallows and the weenies to celebrate when hello what's this? Weathers has been shot too! Ahhh not to worry, much like Dolph in Showdown in Little Tokyo, bullets are no match for pecs of steel and the wound requires zero medical attention. Like none at all. I mean neither he nor Vanity even looks at it closely. There is scarcely a drop of blood is what I'm trying to say!

Bill Duke inexplicably shows up even though the 911 call couldn't have happened more then 2 minutes ago, but before he can answer for that mystery he changes the subject by promoting Jackson on the spot! Take that Axel Foley! You've just been usurped as the Motor City's premier supercop! Go back to discussing cheese plates with Bronson Pinchot you poseur!

Vanity adds to the festive mood by proudly stating that she has kicked heroin cold turkey... in just under a day! Hooray! She then offers her body up to Jackson on the spot in lieu of Thanksgiving dinner and he sensibly accepts. Bon appetit!

Has there ever been a greater triumph? Our man Jackson saves the day and basks in the glow of the always scintillating and never wholesome Vanity. Revel in it mon ami! Live each day contented, knowing that you starred in what's easily the best darn police picture this side of Robocop. I like it!

COUNTDOWN TO EXPENDABLES 2: MARKED FOR DEATH & OUT FOR JUSTICE (*SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER MATT REDDICK*)

Now that Van Damme is in the Expendables that makes Steven Seagal the #1 missing link in the ensemble cast. To emphasize how much his presence is missing from the Expendables, Matt Reddick is back with a Seagal double feature.

enjoy...

Out For Justice                                                                                  Marked For Death

Cheers, welcome to my first Steven Seagal movie! Seriously, I never saw one. I chose this at random. I did finish it but it seemed to slow to a crawl. I never really got into this and I started to drift off and wonder how such a simple movie can become a bad one. The plot was stretched out way to long. It basically comes down to a 90 minute chase scene. Revenge for adultery, really? It does have a few interesting elements, such as Dominic Chianese (aka “Corrado ‘Junior’ Soprano”) and Jerry “don’t-bullshit-him!” Orbach. Gina Gershon gets a shout-out here as well. Seagal has an obvious weakness with acting, so I am confused as to why he decided to do an Eye-talian meathead. No offense to Italian-Americans, but is there anything easier to mock than a mobster/wiseguy? Youfuckinkiddinme?! To make it worse, he has WAY too much dialogue. It takes away from the urgency. William Forsythe, a personal favorite, was hard to watch. He just can’t pull off a mobster, especially one who is a psychotic crackhead. His fight last way longer than it should. I really just shook my head at how sloppy a movie can become. Most of the fight scenes had too many close-ups and it made the action look slower.

Bummer: 1.5/5

Marked for Death is a much more balanced and effective film that works well within its genre limitations. Or you could say it kicks ass with the other yet-to-be-nicknamed style of action movies from the 90s. It’s excellently paced with solid direction and editing. The opening scene (featuring Danny Trejo with a face still rough but not scarred yet) sets the tone of the film: gunfire, chases and karate. Half naked women and a pretty decent soundtrack also compliment the movie and present it as a snapshot of the times. It may be anecdotal, but I seem to remember seeing more porn stars in cameos back around this time (a tradition that I insist must be continued). I also remember enjoying soundtracks to movies I never saw or even heard of, featuring all different styles (such as Heaven’s Prisoners, Escape from L.A., Fresh (IIRC not one song was played in the movie!)). I haven’t really followed current music, so this could still be going on. An OST that features Mellow Man Ace, Tone Loc, Shabba Ranks, Peter Tosh and Jimmy Cliff (performing as well) is outstanding. As for porn stars, I spotted Teri Weigel coking around with an arms dealer then scampering as the fighting breaks out (is there any other way for a porn star to exit?)To review the narrative, glossing over some details is acceptable. It doesn’t slow the story down too much by not explaining how the heroes transport heavy firearms into Jamaica or what was going on with a trap the villains set up. The latter scene involves Seagal being stopped by a road construction crew. Apparently they knew he would be pissed and go around, right into the waiting arms of a garbage truck and a frontloader! It still turns into a mildly suspenseful scene. Stupid movies become bad ones when they slow down. I barely had to check my watch to get a sense of where the movie was going, which is another strong point. There are a couple great car chase scenes as well, with a Ram Charger facing off against a BMW. I feel I have to bring up Seagal’s acting since it seems to be a criticism from most people. He was almost a total blank but I barely noticed his efforts. I’m not sure whether that’s good or not. I have to admit to being distracted by his face, since it looks like it was drawn by a MAD magazine artist. The standard requirement of one-liners was filled and there was only one WTF: “You can’t shoot me, I’m a made man!/ Only god made man.” There are no other Christian religious references, thankfully. That does lead me to another theme of the movie- ethnic exoticism. Santeria and Jamaican voodoo are featured heavily but only briefly described. I was worried at first that it would turn into a tour of those Others and exploit their culture. It seemed more an embellishment of the gang. As an option to show some balance, there is an undercover Jamaican cop who joins with them and an interesting introduction to downtown Kingston. Shot on location, it shows the two black characters investigating the gang leader’s location. There is also a news reporter and a disclaimer at the end explaining that gangs only make up about 1% of the Jamaican population, as a way of apologizing.

Overall, 3/5 but a great choice for action movie buffs.

COUNTDOWN TO EXPENDABLES 2: THE PUNISHER (*SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER DOUG "HARRY BADFACE" FRYE*)

Doug Frye, who's podcast you all should get familiar with, is one of only two people I consider worthy enough to write about something that has to do with Dolph Lundgren (John Cribbs, who's Expendables write-up should be coming eventually, is the other person). And given Doug's comic book knowledge it only makes him even MORE qualified to write about The Punisher - a lost gem from the late 80's that was ahead of it's time long before this explosion of so-called gritty/realistic comic book-based movies like; Batman Begins, Sin City or the recent Spiderman reboot.

Enjoy...

Forget about the U.S. entering World War II being the only reason you aren’t speaking German right now—Dolph Lundgren is the reason you aren’t speaking Japanese right now. Beginning in 1989’s The Punisher, Lundgren entered a ten year war with the Yakuza, the Japanese mafia. He added the late Brandon Lee to his strike force in 1991’s Showdown in Little Tokyo, then came back to finish them in 1999’s Bridge of Dragons. I haven’t seen it, but I feel justified including it because it co-stars 1987-2002’s go-to Asian criminal mastermind, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, who I assume is reprising his role from Showdown. I did minimal research to come up with this theory, but I feel confident in its eternal truth. It’s my feeling that Lundgren’s intensity of focus on defeating his enemy led to the oversight of a number of details that would have rounded out The Punisher into a masterpiece. This film is probably the first and only case of a comic book movie starring someone overqualified for the job. Dolph Lundgren is a super-rich karate champion and scientist: that’s not the Punisher—that’s Batman, which I am not entirely convinced that Lundgren is not. Just seeing his picture on the mantle scared a gang of criminals away from his home after they had broken in (Google it). Come to think of it, the way to strike fear into the heart of crime is to disguise yourself as Dolph-Lundgren-Man.

The main problem with the movie is its ludicrous cheapness. It’s so cheap that the costume department couldn’t even go to the Hot Topic in the mall to get a T-shirt with the Punisher’s signature skull logo. There were plenty of them available in 1989, even in Dolph Lundgren’s size. The casting seemed concerned more with its budget than its talent, too. The Mafia bosses were a collection of guys who should have played low-level goons at best. Jeroene Krabbe, who you might remember better as the goofy general villain from Timothy Dalton’s first doomed foray into the Bond franchise, The Living Daylights, just doesn’t work as a major villain. Especially when dressed in a freshly acid-washed denim jacket, his clothing of choice when going on a rescue mission.

Then, of course, there is the script.

Too many people know that the Punisher exists and too many people talk about it. The opening is a news broadcast about his exploits. This is one of the places where Punisher: War Zone went right, making Frank Castle the mysterious slasher in its horror film. Lou Gossett, Jr., sometimes dressed in Warren Beatty’s lemon yellow Dick Tracy trench coat, gets too much story for the lead character’s former partner, Jake, and Jake’s new partner exists to jam exposition in with both ham-fists. Frank has an alcoholic informant, a disgraced actor named Shakes (get it?), whom he leads around by the nose with a bottle of whisky. The Punisher is captured not once, not twice, but three times through the course of the film. He does very little of the killing that watch a Punisher movie for. His toughest opponent is the Yakuza’s female, white super-ninja (because every Asian criminal organization keeps a white super-ninja around for good measure)...

The script has too many Schwarzeneggeresque one-liners for a character as harsh and stoic as Frank Castle. I wondered if it wasn’t written with Arnold in mind by the end, though he probably would have turned it down for its lack of super-heroics. And he would have done so rightly.

For all of its flaws, though, the central plotline of the film is genius: Frank Castle hates the Mafia for gunning down his wife and kids, the Yakuza kidnap the Mafia’s children to gain influence in New York’s crime scene, and the Punisher puts his hatred of the Mafia aside to save children. It’s perfectly effective and allows Castle to become something greater than a murderer of murderers, a problem with writing his character. He rarely has anything at stake—he just kills and kills and kills. He doesn’t even really care if he lives or dies since he’s only living to kill. Suddenly, there is precious life to lose. This isn’t really explored deeply enough in the script, giving too much time to tertiary characters, and Castle’s got no real internal struggle with the decision to help the Mafia thanks to someone close to him being held until he agrees to join them. It’s too easy and robs the character of pathos.

I really dug this film as a teenager, but it just doesn’t hold up today. The Punisher could have been a much more complex film about the toll one pays when dedicating oneself to vengeance, or it could have been a The Outlaw Josey Wales­-styled story of an unstoppable killing machine of a man tearing his way across New York’s criminal underground, but instead it was neither. Largely, Frank Castle is borne on the tides of criminals, held and directed at their whims, and it between those times, he kills some people. Not enough people to be interesting, nor enough interesting people to make up for the lack of body count. The Punisher of this film lives in a Hogan’s Alley of pop-up criminals waiting to be gunned down, and adding some Japanese ones doesn’t make it better, just superficially more exotic. I just wish that Dolph Lundgren had added story editor to his long list of talents when this movie was made. Then we would have seen something.

COUNTDOWN TO EXPENDABLES 2: THE DELTA FORCE (*SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER: MATT REDDICK*)

Special guest blogger: Matt Reddick is more than just a sports enthusiast. He's a movie buff in the truest sense who appreciates cinema from all areas whether it be the cinema of Bela Tarr or the cinema of Chuck Norris. The artist who put together the official trailer for the Expendables sequel knew exactly what he was doing. When you watch the preview there's that slow motion moment in the trailer when everything goes silent and it seems like the world just stops for a second when Chuck Norris first appears on screen and it makes us go: 'YES! The manliest manly man has been added to the cast of Expendables 2!" 

There was no way we were getting through this without someone touching on a Chuck Norris movie. And what better Chuck Norris movie to touch on than The Delta Force? I'll just say that Matt is a brave man for doing this review. If Chuck Norris ever comes across it he may kick Matt's ass. Just sayin...

Enjoy...

I’m not sure why I picked this to start. It rang a bell and I wasn’t sure if I had seen it when I was younger. It will be hard to talk about this without bringing up politics, but I’ll try to keep it brief. I kind of feel like I have to bring it up, though. There was NO FIGHTING until 1:15 into the movie! The audience is introduced to the passengers on a plane, which is later hi-jacked. The terrorists have a hard time trying to find a place to land, yet never really give a reason for what they’re doing. They are just anti-American and anti-Semitic.  There was so little action, my mind started projecting reasons for this. The filmmakers are Israelis (Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus of Cannon Films) and they clearly have an agenda. Looking over his (or their) many many movies, they specialize in low-budget action flicks (or genre exploitation, if you will): Kinjite:Forbidden Subjects, Death Wish sequels, Bloodsport, Missing In Action series, and even The Forbidden Dance (The Lambada!) I was not prepared for this Reagan-era/pro-Israeli sermon. The terrorists are all sweaty, unkempt and wild-eyed. They viciously assault the passengers and crew. But wait until they find the American Navy men (who they ignorantly keep calling Marines)! And then they find out Jews are on board! That’s all a pretense for other characters to lecture them. A Catholic priest(played by George Kennedy) and a German flight attendant (Hanna Schygulla, bleached blonde to accent her Germanic heritage, maybe?) take turns explaining to the terrorists why they are so wrong. The issues or grievances that the terrorists have are never addressed but instead it seems like the producers were trying to produce modern-day Hollywood Nazis.

The iconic logo that flashed across the screen before the many action movies we all watched growing up...

Politics aside, the first hour is still terrible. It drags on and teases us with the impending clash between Chuck Norris and the terrorists. They even show Delta Force training for boarding the plane! Are we to believe they need practice?! Then the plane is re-routed…. Then they discover there are way more terrorists than first thought and they retreat. Once the main action kicks off and they start investigating and planning the rescue, you feel relieved. These are the familiar steps of action movies: car chases, motorcycles equipped with rockets, bad one-liners and a final showdown between the bad guy leader and the hero. For myself, I was already aggravated by the first hour and it couldn’t be redeemed.  I was mildly impressed with the cast as they were introduced in the beginning: Lee Marvin, Bo Svenson, Martin Balsam, Shelly Winters, Joey Bishop, Marc Foster, and Robert Vaughn. They all do a decent job. I can’t really recommend it unless you are curious for the conservative preaching or are willing to fast-forward through it.

-Matt

COUNTDOWN TO EXPENDABLES 2: BLOODSPORT!

Given that Hot Tub Time Machine and Beerfest have been two of the most popular blog entries in the last couple of months I think it’s safe to say that the PINNLAND EMPIRE readers aren’t the typical one dimensional, close minded film snobs that I'm use to and I have the freedom to write about a wide range of films. I love experimental, indie & "art house" films just as much as the next anthology film archives regular, but bottom line...I was watching Kickboxer and Marked For Death long before I was watching The Spirit Of The Beehive or the films of Tarkovsky. I’m writing about two Van Damme films back-to-back because as we all know his addition to the Expendables ensemble cast is the one that the fans wanted the most. Yes, even over Chuck Norris (which I honestly didn’t see coming). Don’t get me wrong, I'm excited about Norris being in the Expendables just as much as the next guy but it goes without saying that Van Damme (along with Steven Segal) represented that 2nd tier group of action stars right underneath Stallone, Willis and Schwarzenegger in the 90's. In my opinion Chuck Norris, who we'll be getting to in a later entry, is from a different era. Van Damme was on his way to being mentioned alongside the likes of Stallone and Willis but Timecop and a few more bad movies in a row started his downward spiral of direct-to-video releases that he wasn’t able to get out of until 2008's JCVD (which was ironically accepted more by the indie crowd more than it was accepted by your typical Jean Claude Van Damme fan). As I mentioned in my Lionheart write-up, Bloodsport is the one true iconic Van Damme film right down to that memorable VHS box cover art that any American boy born in the late 70’s/early 80’s should be familiar with...

And much like what Lionheart was to the USA network, Bloodsport was a staple on TBS & TNT in the late 80's/early 90's. When I was a kid flipping through the channels back in the day, there was a good chance that Bloodsport would be on either TBS or TNT at some random point in the day. Anyone familiar Bloodsport remembers all the famous quotes from; "OK, USA!" to "Very good...but brick don’t hit back". There's people who say "OK, USA!" and don’t even realize where that quote comes from. Little things like that make Bloodsport a classic.

Bolo Yeung/"Chong Lee"

Bloodsport, which is loosely based on a true story, is another fighting movie that predates (and inspired) stuff like Street Fighter & Mortal Komba. The movie follows Frank Dux (played by Jean Claude Van Damme at the height of his charm): an American soldier (who has a French accent for some reason) that goes AWOL from the military to participate in an underground fighting tournament with the best fighters from all over the world to bring honor to his former trainer (who's son was killed in the tournament a few years prior) and prove to himself that he's the best. What’s so great about Bloodsport is that all the fighters stand out and have their own little personalities that makes each of them memorable. You got the big Japanese sumo fighter (who clearly inspired the E. Honda character in Street Fighter), the loud, meatheaded rock n' rollin' American brawler (played by "Ogre" from Revenge Of The Nerds) and even not-so subtly racist characters like the African martial artist who trains by swinging from trees and cracking coconuts with his hands. But Frank Dux' biggest challenge in the tournament comes in the form of "Chong Lee" (Played by martial arts icon Bolo Yeung): an intimidating, sociopathic, brick house, killing machine. The character of Chong Lee, as well as Bolo Yeung’s performance, is pretty damn underrated in my opinion (seriously, all jokes aside). Bolo Yeung's overall presence and the way he casually strolls over to his opponents at the beginning of each match just before easily beating them is beyond intimidating. Not to make things too serious, but in terms of race, Bolo Yeung doesn’t get enough credit for pretty much destroying the stereotypes about Asian movie villains. From Ming The Merciless to Odd Job in the James Bond movies, the characteristics of most Asian villains were weak, sneaky and almost cowardly (even the villains in some Martial Arts movies). Bolo Yeung broke that mold. He always played an intimidating, muscular villain that would walk right up to you and beat the hell outta you. After Bruce Lee and Jim Kelly’s Afro, Bolo was the most memorable thing about Enter The Dragon (a film that inspired many future action movies, including Bloodsport). Sneaky and cowardly aren’t two words that describe the characters he played in movies (although his character does kinda cheat in Bloodsport, but at the same time he beats a guy to death with his bare hands so it kinda cancels things out). Naturally when the dust settles and we reach the finals of the tournament, Frank Dux and Chong Lee are the last two men standing.

An interesting thing about Bloodsport is that it features JUST enough scenes involving Vanne Damme doing the splits before it starts to feel a TAD bit too much...

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Another cool novelty about Bloodsport is that it’s one of the few Expendable-related movies to feature a future Academy Award winning actor (Forest Whitaker). Bloodsport is a good example of how Forest Whitaker paid his dues by playing the goofy, bumbling police detective assigned to bring Van Damme back to America for going AWOL. Think about how many actors that are nowhere to be found today that got billed over Forest Whitaker in Bloodsport...

To be honest, if you have yet to see Bloodsport you really have no business calling yourself a fan of action/"guy" movies and I cant imagine your anticipation for the Expendables sequel is that big. This is one of those movies that truly defines what the Expendables is all about.

COUNTDOWN TO EXPENDABLES 2: ONLY THE STRONG (*SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER JACOBS SANDERS/WHALEHAWK*)

Aside from being a very talented artist/musician (whom I've had the pleasure of collaborating with on more than one occasion), Jacob "Whalehawk" Sanders is also a fellow blogger who shares the same kinda love of awesomely bad, guilty pleasure action films from the late 80's/early 90's as me. In this third installment of our Expendables special, Jacob delves in to the world of the classic Brazilian/American martial arts film; Only The Strong. Some of you may be scratching your head at this one because it doesn't feature anyone from the cast of The Expendables. But I think we all know it comes from the same "school" of Expendables-related action movies (plus Jacob manages to make a nice connection between Only The Strong and a recent Expendables-related movie that was already touched on in a previous entry). Consider Only The Strong a first cousin or little brother to films like Hard Target, Delta Force or No Retreat No Surrender.

Enjoy...

If you’ve ever found yourself at a traffic light, and you noticed that every so often, your turn signal starts to blink at the exact same speed as your neighbor’s turn signal, you have just witnessed a thing called “entrainment.” Entrainment is the process whereby two interacting oscillating systems, which have different periods when they function independently, assume a common period. This phenomenon can be found elsewhere; red lights on top of skyscrapers, windshield wipers, metronomes, prides of lions, seconds hands. Every once in awhile, things magically line up of their own accord. No one forced it, no one rushed it. Things just naturally came together, danced in sweet harmony, and then entropically drifted back apart. Entrainment is the only way to explain to people, who have been raised by our current model of the 24-hour TV channel, how movies used to be absorbed on television. In 1994, you sat around and waited for magical shit to happen. Nothing was On-Demand, no programmable TiVo was available, BlockBuster Video was around but not in your house, the internet was a tadpole, VHS tapes, hourly consultations of TV Guide, only 44.1 channels available...it was a different, maybe even simpler time. Being enthusiastic about entertainment meant you had to physically be in front of a TV somewhere, at some time, watching some channel, and then maybe, just maybe, you’d get what you were after. More importantly, if nothing lined up magically, you still watched whatever was on because it was a Friday night in 1994 and you were a 13 year old boy, dangerously prone to cold sores. Let’s make no mistake, if there was nothing on TV I became a Zen monk and watched that nothing. It was in this state of nothingness that cinematic manna was delivered. It was a movie so second tier that they had to build a 3rd tier to house it. A movie forged in an estuary, where the river of flashy dance pants meets an ocean of mortal combat. A movie featuring semi-gratuitous violence, controlled meditative violence, group exercise/violence, and the happy funtime Brazilian martial art form of Capoeria. I speak of course of my “guilty pleasure” action movie, Only The Strong.

According to the Christian Movie Review, Only The Strong contains the following; Humanism; some drug & alcohol abuse; roughly 25 obscenities; drug lords get revenge by setting fire to school; occult in chanting to accompany dance called "capoeira"; and, considerable violence in kick-boxing & practice of martial arts throughout film. I don’t think I can sum the movie up better than they did. Those things are totally in this movie. The reasons I selected this movie to be my “guilty pleasure” action-adventure flick is because after only really seeing this movie twice maybe, I cannot forget any of the lessons Mark Dacascos taught those ragamuffin kids. You might know Mark Dacascos as “The Chairman” on Iron Chef America...

But to me, he’ll always be ex-Green Beret Louis Stevens. In the movie, Stevens is called Stateside from a tour of duty in Brazil where he has learned the martial art of capoeira from the rhythmic and colorful natives. Stevens returns to his hometown high school in Florida to find it in a state of ruinous chaos. There are gangsters and drug deals in the bathroom, bad haircuts in the hallway, and a whole host of kids who don’t care about nothing for nobody! After he scares some of the thugs away with his flashy dance pants moves, his old teacher, Mr. Kerrigan, sees the effect he has on the students, and nominates him to teach his flashy dance pants moves after-school to the aforementioned ragamuffins. He not only teaches flashy dance pants moves and self-defense, but Stevens instills in these loveable and moldable hoodlums that greatest gift of all; self-respect. Through several montages, the movie plays out in a predictable teacher/savior/martial arts hero arch, ending ultimately with Stevens getting the girl, the gangs being run out of the school, and the after-school kids learning some valuable lessons.
But a couple things stick out that gave this movie some staying power with me and really solidified the pleasurable aspects of its guilty nature...

1. Louis Stevens getting in on the knowledge of self tip - With quotes like ”I've got major news for you. The world can be as big as you want it to be, or as small as your tiny little hood.” I felt like Louis was talking right at me! He was saying to me, “Jake! I see you eating that Totino’s Party Pizza, and I see you practicing roundhouses on your huge teddy bear, I see you got a cold sore. The world is huge!” You’re right on the money ex-Green Beret Louis Stevens! I’m totally gonna eat another Party Pizza.

2. THIS SONG! I cannot tell you how many times this song waltzes into my head; during my commute to work, eating a banana, eating whey...



3. I found out that the director of this movie, Sheldon Lettich, is the same director of my other go-to action adventure classics, Lionheart and Double Impact, both starring Jean Claude Van Damme. I realize now the magnetism that drew me to this flick; the gypsy-type loner, always a little sweaty, fighting against the odds in slow-mo, sealing deals with grace and power.

4. This was not the most popular movie. Only the Strong earned $3,273,588 at the U.S. box office, making only more than half of its $6 million budget. When I saw it on TV, during those random moments of entertainment entrainment, you could tell there was a lack of quality. But there was something deeper about Only The Strong and other “guilty pleasure” action movies, something that called out the Brawny in me, something that asked a 13 year old boy if he could stand in the face of opposition and still remember all his training and focus. The lessons in Only The Strong, those of dedication and spiritual enrichment through cartwheels, still resonate in the dojo of my heart.

The Christian Movie Review said this movie contained humanism. I can’t find a reason to say that this movie contains anything but humanism. What Only The Strong meant to me in 1994, was that a semi-decent movie could be found on Friday night basic cable. But what this “guilty pleasure” action adventure movie means to me now, and why I chose to share it with you, is that it’s never too late to believe in yourself, support your friends and community, stand up for what’s right, and become the Chairman of Iron Chef America. Ay, cuisine!

-Jacob