DINOSAURS, BITCHES.

JURASSIC PARK (1993)

"Dinosaurs eat man. Woman inherits the earth."

Let's get one thing straight. Dinosaurs are badass. If you don't think dinosaurs are badass, you need to get an MRI pronto because chances are, you have a large parasite eating away at the part of your brain that differentiates badass from Justin Bieber. With that said, Jurassic Park could have easily been cool without even trying. They could've slapped a couple CGI creatures in there, and then slapped a couple hundred more flying little digital splashes of color and called it a day. Because that's how movies are made, right?

Image from www.filmofilia.com

Wrong. Jurassic Park is how movies are made. Or at least, how movies should be made. No matter how many times I've seen it, I have yet to find a single fucking flaw in the thing. When I say it's a flawless movie, I mean it's a motherfucking flawless movie. So flawless that I had to review it twice because I just couldn't contain my feelings. It is better or worse in 3D? Meh. As an avid 3D disparager, I actually didn't mind it in 3D this time around. Why? Well, because it's Jurassic Park on the big screen. They could've had those irritating television popup ads on the bottom corner of the screen every five minutes and I still would've enjoyed the shit out of it. 

What makes this movie a timeless classic is this: it brings out the child in us. And I don't mean the child who wants to go see animated spy hamsters roll around for an hour an a half (guilty as charged). I mean that feeling of absolute wonderment we get when we see something for the first time. That unbridled curiosity, the desire to know, to feel, to touch, to jump out of a moving car because hell, if the animals won't come to us, we'll go to them. Really, it's a filmmaker's wet dream, the ability to capture the essence of filmmaking in one solid film. You want to wow me, give me dinosaurs, give me lovable characters, give me a score that I can feel expand in my ribcage. 

Image from businessinsider.com.

The brilliant thing is, Jurassic Park is about so much more than dinosaurs. It's about Dr. Alan Grant, played by you'll-never-get-a-better-role Sam Neill, who finds something in him capable of change, of evolution. It's about Dr. Ellie Sattler, played by you'll-really-never-get-a-better-role Laura Dern, who constantly challenges male hierarchy and, more often than not, beats them at their own game. Can I get a holla for a badass female character who doesn't have to hide her femininity or the fact that her biological clock is ticking to be considered a "badass?" Jurassic Park is about Dr. Ian Malcolm (you'll-never-be-hotter Jeff Goldblum), who constantly warns the heroes of the chaos to come but doesn't get to say I-told-you-so until it's far too late. More than anything, however, this movie is about motherfucking John Hammond (thank-you-for-your-awesome-face Richard Attenborough), who you love, then hate, then love some more, because he's flawed to his core but hell, at the end of the day, we can't really blame him.

Of course, I have to give a shout out to my favorite people in film: the minor characters. Those who doesn't get half as much love as they should because at the end of the day, they're the shoulders the heroes stand on to get to the finish line. First, we've got a rebellion-son subplot which, honestly, didn't need to be there, but hell, the 90s were good to Wayne Knight. So sure, the storm could've come through and ripped out the security systems and let all the dinosaurs loose, but that wouldn't have been half as fun, nor would it have been half as human, to watch Dennis bumble around and taunt a small, curious, and--dare we say--sassy dilophosaurus. Then we've got the two grandkids, Tim and Lex Murphy, who just had Steven Spielberg stamped all over them. If anyone knows how to write realistic, witty, and badass children, it's Steven Spielberg. He's pretty much the only director that can throw children on the screen and not kill the movie instantly. True story.

Image from fyeahjurassicpark.tumblr.com.

But hey, this wouldn't be a Smoking Pen review if I didn't give a shout out to my man Samuel L. Jackson. Who knew he could play such a damn good nerd? Especially when he's burning through cigarettes like no tomorrow. Finally, my favorite character, Robert Muldoon, played by Bob Peck. He's a small role, but he's a hunter who gets what was coming to him while, at the same time, going out in a blaze. It's a subtle character, but you feel both satisfied by his death and redeemed. Plus, he has the line, "clever girl." Can't top that.

And the end of the day, despite the epic actors and the even more epic dinosaurs, we have to acknowledge the fact that it was the score that really put the movie miles ahead of all other monster movies. That feeling of awe you get when you see the Brachiosaurus rear up to get the high leaves? The intensity that builds as the children climb the electric fence? The moment you fall in love with motherfucking pelicans? Yes, the writing is great, I'm really happy for you, I'ma let you finish--but can I please shake John Williams' hand? I'd wax poetic, but I'm really just going to let it speak for itself. Enjoy 3:20 of motherfucking instrumental magic. Bitches.

My Ass May Be Dumb, But I Ain't No Dumbass.

JACKIE BROWN (1997)

AKA: The Ordell Robbie story.

It's the last day of the month, which can only mean one thing: time for me to sneak in my Tarantino review! This month, we've got none other than the dear Jackie Brown (1997). To be honest, Jackie Brown is not exactly my favorite Tarantino. Don't get me wrong: I still love it to death. It's like broken Oreo in the box--it's still got all the right ingredients, it's just not as satisfying as the rest. It's also probably the Tarantino that I've seen the least. With that said, I think Jackie Brown is highly underrated by many--especially me. Rewatching it this time around gave me a level of appreciation for the film's subtleties that I'd brushed off the last time around while I was waiting for a gun to go off. 

Swag.

The Plot: Jackie Brown is a rarity among Tarantino movies for one simple reason: it's not original material. Rather, it's based off of Rum Punch by Elmore Leonard. In a way, it shows. While it still certainly feels like a Tarantino movie, Jackie Brown is a little more "tame" than most Tarantinos go. There's not a lot of excessive swearing, shooting, or shamelessness. Rather, it's Tarantino's tribute to blaxploitation films, all while showing off the lovely Pam Grier. 

The Music: Like all Tarantino films, the music is spot on. Some of it is background music, but most of the music is used as part of the scene--something Jackie Brown puts on her record player or something Ordell cranks up on his car radio. It adds a little something to the film and puts the audience right in the middle of it, rather than keeping us as a voyeuristic distance. Also, fun fact: they play (a fucking epic) Strawberry Letter 23 by the Brothers Johnson, which also appears on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack. Go figure. 

The Characters: I know the movie is called Jackie Brown, but in my mind, this is the Ordell Robbie story. If you watch this movie for anything, you have to watch it for Samuel L. Jackson. This is, hands down, my favorite performance he's ever given. Granted, Jules Winnfield from Pulp Fiction is probably my favorite character Samuel L. Jackson has under his belt, but if you want a solid display of Jackson's acting skills, turn to Ordell. Ordell is a mean motherfuckin' gangster. Hard like panther. He's not Samuel L. Jackson's typical anti-hero or Jedi. He's a genuinely manipulative, evil son of a bitch. But he's also a character with a lot of subtly to him. He's paranoid, he's got a big ego, and he's got a soft spot for his "surfer girl." Oh, and did I mention the hair? Scrap everything I just said. See it for the hair.

Max Cherry + Puppy Dog Eyes.

Then, of course, there's my girl Jackie Brown. One of the most badass Tarantino women of all time. What's so great about Jackie Brown? Well, for starters, she's about the least likely badass around. She's a 40-something fight attendant working for a shitty airport. Despite her humble appearances, she's got the brain of an expert thief and works the system to her advantage. She knows how to smuggle, how to steal, but more importantly, how to get exactly what she wants. The funny thing is, she's not even that great of a manipulator. She manipulates by telling the truth. If she wants something, she'll tell you upfront exactly what she wants. She doesn't beat around the bush. But she's so confident and methodical, it's really hard to say no.

Of course, the interesting thing about Jackie Brown is that she is a really human character. She has her weaknesses. She gets emotional, she doesn't like being yelled at, and she has a soft spot for clothes shopping. But she's her own woman, and that is, in the end, what makes her stand out from the rest. She falls in love, but she doesn't give herself over to it. At the end of the day, she's still Jackie Brown: the one woman act. 

Speaking of love interest, Max Cherry, played by Robert Forster, is not actually my all-time favorite character. I understand he's supposed to be the hardboiled detective-style nice guy, and maybe that's the problem. Tarantino is talented at writing clever, can't-help-but-love-'em badasses who carry guns and wreck havoc. Max Cherry doesn't even drink or smoke. He just has too much of a halo for Quentin Tarantino's pen. Or maybe it's just Robert Forster I'm not a big fan of. Either way, his character has a bad habit of draining the energy from the screen, which is something this dude cannot abide. The only time he gets really interesting is when he mentions holding a stun gun, but by that time we're already more than halfway into the movie and he's already racked up too many yawns.

AKA: the misfits of the criminal world.

And then we've got our lovable side-characters. Robert De Niro, possibly one of the last people I'd expect in a Tarantino film, is hilarious as the frumpy ex-convict. But his best bits are, without a doubt, his scenes with Bridget Fonda. She's gorgeous and has great feet, which is really all you want from a Tarantino-girl. She plays the snide, pothead surfer-girl, Melanie, and possibly one of my favorite characters in the film if only for her snark and her attitude. Together, they're brilliant and add a good deal of energy to the movie. 

Other than that, we've got Michael Keaton playing Ray Nicolette, the sneaky tool of an ATF agent. He's slick, and more than that, a lot slicker than he thinks he is. His partner is the slightly more down-to-earth Mark Dargus (Michael Bowen), with an excellent mustache to his name. Chis Tucker plays his typical high-energy fuck up. And be on the look out for Simone. That's all I can say about her.

The Conversation: The phone debate. Without a doubt. It's the first full-scene of the film (minus the Jackie Brown credit sequence) and yet has got to be my favorite. Ordell goes off on his love of guns ("AK-47. The very best there is. When you absolutely, positively got to kill every motherfucker in the room, accept no substitutes."), Melanie shows off her legs, and Louis (De Niro) looks stuck somewhere in between the two. And then the phone goes off, and Ordell and Melanie get caught in a game of chicken, fighting over who has to answer the phone. If ever a man could explode someone's head with his eyes, it would be Samuel L. Jackson.

The Iconic Moment: Ordell spends about five minutes convincing Beaumont to get inside the trunk of his car so Beaumont can help him with the element of surprise during a trade-off. After a good couple guilt-trips, threats, and finally an appeal to Beaumont's stomach, the other man climbs in the trunk of Ordell's car. Ordell pumps up the music, smiles, and drives around the block into an abandoned lot, where he opens the trunk and unloads his gun in Beaumont. Genius. Pure genius. Everything about that scene drips with brilliant screenwriting. And this is why Tarantino is iconic. 

The Mexican Standoff: Don't remember the Mexican Standoff in Jackie Brown? That would be because there isn't one. It's one of the few Tarantino films that doesn't have a Mexican Standoff, though I am tempting to count the phone-debate in this category.

Classic Tarantino shot.

And that's all for Jackie Brown! Brilliant, underrated Tarantino film. If you haven't seen it, fix that. Immediately. Up next in the QT Blogathon is...drum roll...Kill Bill Vol. 1! It's one of my favorites, one of the Tarantinos I've seen the most, and has the gorgeous Uma Thurman. I'm stoked. If you have any Jackie Brown posts, hit me up at mhufstader (at) gm.slc.edu sometime around today or tomorrow and I'll put them up. So far, I've got no one in the Jackie Brown camp, so I might just have a post solely for you! Otherwise, email me between now and the end of August with something about Kill Bill Vol. 1 and I'll add it to my jar of eyeballs collection. 

Bad Mother Fucker.

PULP FICTION (1994)

Image from screencream.com.

Last Minute M. strikes again! I still have a few hours of daylight, shut it. Either way, it's May, which means it's Pulp Fiction time! I will admit, this review was (and still is) a little daunting for me to write. Pulp Fiction is one of my all time favorite movies, but when it comes to actually talking about the movie, it's hard to articulate exactly what makes it such a fucking classic. Still, for the sake of QT Blogathon, I grit my teeth and powered through. As they say: Fuck pride.

The Plot: Where do begin? Pulp Fiction is a bit of a doozy in that it doesn't actually have a cookie-cutter plot or narrative. Instead, we've got a couple different stories on our plate. We have Bruce Willis, the aging boxer who doesn't go down when he should and has to keep the mob off his tail. We have Jules and Vincent, the two mobsters who get in trouble when a job goes south and they're forced to clean up the mess. And we have Vincent and Mia, the mob boss' wife, who go out on a completely platonic date. But even laying each subplot out like that just doesn't do the movie justice. It's a twisted and jumbled ensemble film, and it works. Completely. In a way that would never work again. Tarantino, thank you for breaking the mold once more.

The Music: This one is filled with some really great tracks. As in all Tarantino movies, the music isn't something that hides in the shadows and comes out to play whenever there's an Oscar moment in the works. Rather, the music has a life of its own and keeps up with the pace of the movie. There are not a lot of film soundtracks I could listen to repetitively and never get tired of, but this is one of them. From Al Green's Let's Stay Together to Dusty Springfield's Son Of A Preacher Man, it's a soundtrack that rides right along with the excellence of the movie. And, of course, Misirlou will forever be known as the Pulp Fiction theme song. Not to mention, it's hard to listen to Flowers On The Wall by the Statler Brothers without doing Bruce Willis' "kangaroo" face.

The Characters/The Actors: I couldn't do different sections to describe the characters and actors this time around for one simple reason: the actors completely vanish in this movie. Pulp Fiction is just one of those movies I can't watch and namedrop, which is a compliment coming from someone who sounds like she's reciting fucking IMDB when she watches a movie. Still, the writing is so fucking good that major names like Samuel L. Jackson, Bruce Willis, and John Travolta disappear into the badassitry that is their characters.

Is this what you call an uncomfortable silence?

One person I have to give a shout out to, however, is Uma Thurman's portrayal of Misses Mia Wallace. Uma Thurman, as she has proved in recent years, can be a bit of a hit and miss actress. Anyone see My Super Ex-Girlfriend? Me neither. Nonetheless, say what you will, but under Tarantino's direction, Uma is phenomenal. She's his muse and his masterpiece. She fits perfectly into the skin of the eccentric mob wife, Mia Wallace, and recites Tarantino's lines with ease and character. What can we say? The lady's got spunk.

Lastly, there are a handful of minor characters that need mention. Amanda Plummer is a fucking wild woman as "Honey Bunny". Eric Stoltz is awesome, as always, will someone please tell me why he fell off the face of cinema? Peter Greene is an underrated creepy bastard. Winston "The Wolf" will never be replicated. Maria de Medeiros is adorable and French (and has lesbian sex with Uma Thurman. My life is complete). One after the other, all badass characters. 

The Conversation: What does Marcellus Wallace look like? I had to think long and hard about this one. Because it's really, really impossible to pick one gem of dialogue out of a movie filled with brilliance. However, I've got to hand it to Jules. Samuel L. Jackson has always been the guy who turns Tarantino's dialogue into poetry, and he doesn't fall short here. The entire scene is brilliant--from the infamous Royale With Cheese conversation to a heated debate about foot massages. And once the two mobsters do finally push their way into the room, it's on. Jules is one intimidating motherfucker, and the last person you want to invite over for breakfast. I dare anyone to try to look that frightening eating a burger. And then not only is his interrogation brilliant, but we get the monologue. The bible verse. In any other movie, with any other actor, this would be a copout moment. I mean, c'mon. Bible verse. We've seen it done a thousand and one times, right (I'm looking at you, Boondock Saints)? But somehow, it just works. Don't ask me how. If I knew the recipe for Tarantino script writing, I would not be writing this blog in Barnes & Noble and enjoying free wifi.

Strut.

The Iconic Moment: And then Tarantino does something brilliant. He puts the King Of Swagger on the dance floor. Think about it: what put John Travolta on the map? Busting moves in the likes of Grease and Saturday Night Fever. What put him back on the map? Boogying it up with Uma Thurman on the dance floor. It's the perfect transition from their dinner conversation, their bantering back-and-forth, the tension between the two. They keep time with each other, moving close, pulling away, but most importantly, never taking their eyes off each other. It's not only an extension of their conversation, it elevates the conversation. And, no. They don't have to bump and grind against each other to get a good sexual tension going, thank you very much. I'll take Uma's scuba diver any day of the week.

Fun Fact: I saw Be Cool just to watch Travolta and Thurman dance again.

Image from barlowbrewing.com.

The Mexican Standoff: Of course, our iconic Mexican Standoff. Between Jules, Vincent, "Honeybunny", and "Ringo". Really, this standoff is just another excuse for Jules to be the badass he is. And I am 100% okay with that.


The Suitcase: Fuck you, fucking briefcase of mystery. What the shit is in the briefcase???

And that's all I've got for Pulp Fiction. Because it's damn hard to do a movie like that justice. Next up: From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)! Even though I'm fully aware that it's a Tarantino-Rodriguez joint flick. With that said, I've already reviewed From Dusk Till Dawn, so I might have to go against the grain of my own blogathon. I'm thinking of taking a stab at Four Rooms (1995), since it has a Tarantino segment. Either way, if anyone has Pulp Fiction posts they want to throw at me, email me at mhufstader (at) gm.slc.edu and I'll put them all up sometime tomorrow!

Oh, yeah. And did I mention this happened?

"It Ain't White Boy Day, Is It?"

TRUE ROMANCE (1993)

And they say Tarantino doesn't do romance.

Missed me? Forgot I existed? Yeah, so did I. Truth me told, I've been massively A-To-Zing o'er here, so I've had little to no time to do anything else. However! I do not shirk responsibility. At least, not when it's something epic and fun like a Quentin Tarantino Blogathon. And so I rallied and sat down to watch True Romance, a film I've surprisingly only seen once before. Truth be told, True Romance isn't my favorite Tarantino film. For one simple reason: it's not really a Tarantino film. Yes, he wrote the script, and you can see that "gutter poetry" of his rearing its head here and there. Still, at the end of the day, it's a Tony Scott film, with a couple Tarantino highlights to keep you going. 

Plot: True Romance follows the story of Clarence, a nerd who can't quite luck out with the ladies because he's too busy watching samurai films. Ring any bells? He meets the woman of his dreams, Alabama, only to find out she's a hooker who's been hired by his boss to give him a good time. What happens next is a bloody trail of evidence that proves just how far two people will go to stay together.

Image from listal.

The Music: While watching the film, the music was the one, constant, nagging reminder that this was not a Tarantino film. I have to wonder what this film would look like if it was given a more "Taratino score". You know what I mean--Al Green, Dusty Springfield--all those great, classic artists who could definitely crank out a good, romantic tune. To be honest, the music really might be the one thing that forced me to knock this movie down a peg. It sounds petty, and maybe it is, but after the second, third, hundredth time Clarence and Alabama's theme song came around, I was ready to stab Hans Zimmer in the thumb piano. Don't get me wrong. I love Hans Zimmer. Inception will always get me in the mood to transverse time and space. However, this song was so fake-cheery every time it played I got the image of a bunch of African children laughing and chasing after some white married couple riding a horse down a beach off into the sunset. Don't even pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.

Image from my.spill.com.

The Characters: Clarence and Alabama are our two main characters and, really, two excellent fucking characters. Let's look at the facts. Clarence is, yes, a movie-geek and a bit of a socially inept nerd. However, he's also incredibly quick on his feet and great at manipulating everyone around him. Mainly due to the fact that he has a small Elvis living inside of him telling him what to do. That's right, Clarence is basically the profile of every serial killer that's snapped and shoved bodies under his floorboards because a voice in his head told him to. Or maybe it's just Christian Slater who hasn't sat right with me since Heathers (1988). Either way, we can't help but love him because he's Clarence and he does everything he does for one simple reason: he's crazy about Alabama.

And who can blame him? I'm crazy about Alabama. What's not to love? She's played by the beautiful Patricia Arquette and she's a fucking powerhouse. Here's what I love about Alabama: she's fierce, she's a wild woman, and she will hold her own and get the shit beat out of her. And she's so fucking femme. She's no Sarah Conner. She doesn't chop off her hair, dirty up her face, and strap an uzi onto her back. But she's not a useless booby-prop either. Alabama doesn't conform to the stereotypical female love interest role, and for that, we salute her. I mean, c'mon. That scene where she gets beat to all hell? One of my favorite moments on the movie and a powerful fucking rebuttal to all those useless damsel in distress roles. Rock on, Alabama, rock on.

Image from cimemovies.fr.

The Actors: One of the best things about this movie are the many famous faces that pop up when you least expect them. And so, roll call: Gary Oldman reminds us that he can do anything. Samuel L. Jackson makes Tarantino's poetry sing and then leaves as quickly as he came. Brad Pitt gives Pineapple Express (2008) something to look forward to and, frankly, still does a better job of it. Christopher Walken is his usual beast of a man. Dennis Hopper does a fantastic job at playing Clarence's once dead-beat dad. More on him later. Val Kilmer is unrecognizable, but that's kind of the point anyway. Chris Penn's face always makes me happy. James Gandolfini is terrifying as shit. And a couple you may not know but now you officially should: Bronson Pinchot is whiny, sleazy, and perfect for the role. Michael Rapaport is my new favorite bad actor. And Saul Rubinek steals the show as every producer you wish you didn't know. It's just a great fucking list of names and everyone fits in their role perfectly. There's not a bad apple in the bunch. Now that is an accomplishment in itself.

The Conversation/The Iconic Moment: I had to put these two in the same category because there really is only one crowning moment in this film. One purely Tarantino, fucking magical moment. One moment, and shit suddenly got real. And that's none other than the "conversation" between Clifford Worely (Dennis Hopper) and Vincenzo Coccotti (Christopher Walken). If there's anyone more terrifying that Christopher Walken, I hope I never encounter them because they will surely hunt my nightmares until my dying day. The dude's a fucking rockstar of intimidation. And Dennis Hopper, who's had my love since Easy Rider (1969), gives it right back to him. The chemistry between these two kills me. Every time. But at the end of the day, what it boils down to is this: it's just a brilliant fucking script. The slow build, the uneasy tension, the final culmination of it all...damn. All I can say. If you never see this film, at very least, watch this scene. Now excuse me while I watch it a couple hundred times.

The Mexican Standoff: Really, where would we be without a good, old-fashioned, Mexican Standoff? The funny thing about it is, despite the fact that this is a signature Tarantino move, this scene kept giving me flashbacks of various other films. Like Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels (1998), where all our different characters quite literally collide with another at the end. Or even Boogie Nights (1997), where our hero comes to terms with his downfall in the middle of a rotten drug deal. Which is, clearly, unfair of me, since all those movies came after True Romance. And it wasn't that I didn't like the scene--trust me, I did. I just kept getting the feeling that it was something I'd seen before. Still, I will never say no to a good gun fight, especially with a couple epic feather-covered death scenes. Rock on.

Image from gq.com.

Fun Facts: This movie actually has quite few little facts surrounding the production, especially since Quentin Tarantino sold the script and then stepped away from it completely. True Romance is an elaboration on Tarantino's first film project, My Best Friend's Birthday. It's also the most autobiographical of Tarantino's scripts, which we kind of figured out anyway. C'mon. Clarence is an Elvis man who practically lives at the movie theater when he's not pursuing comic books. We can see the connection. It's also worth noting that this script was originally a monster of a movie that was split up between True Romance and Natural Born Killers. Between you and me, I think Natural Born Killers is a better romance, but I'm willing to fight about it.

And now for my favorite bit, which even I didn't catch the first time around. Remember good old Reservoir Dogs? In Mr. White's flashback, he mentions working alongside a wild woman who went by the name of Alabama. Starting to put the pieces together? Clarence was originally supposed to die in the shootout, leaving Alabama on her own to turn to the life of crime. And this is why we love being die-hard Tarantino fans. Talk about world building. J. R. R Tolkien has nothing on that shit.

And that's a wrap for True Romance. If you've got any True Romance posts you want to throw at me, hit me up at mhufstader (at) gm.slc.edu before May 1st and I'll give you a shout out. Next up, my favorite movie of all time: Pulp Fiction (1994). 

First Things Fuckin' Last.

RESERVOIR DOGS (1992)

Tarantino's got junk in his trunk.

I know what you're thinking. M., really? It's your own damn QT Blogathon, and you still can't help but procrastinate like a little bitch? Yeah, yeah, so call me Last Second Sam. But I don't seem to be the only way with lastseconditis--if anyone wants to get in on Reservoir Dogs, now is the time! Send me (grasshopperon (at) earthlink.net) anything and everything you've written (even that old dusty piece you wrote some five years ago that's sitting on your shelf) about Reservoir Dogs before April 1st and I'll give you a shout out. Hell, I'm a procrastinator too, if you send it on April 1st, you'll probably get a shout out anyway. And if you don't, I've only got one person so far who's send me anything, so I'll just put his blog up in big sparkly letters and it'll be like his birthday all over again.

image from listal.

But, really, I understand--the truth is, it's incredibly hard to for me write about Reservoir Dogs. I think it has something to do with the fact that I start convulsing like a diabetic squirrel every time the movie comes up. It's just so fucking good. Period. It's so good, it's really hard to wrap my head around the fact that this is Quentin Tarantino's first full-on film--if you don't count My Best Friend's Birthday. Which everyone should give a look through anyway, just because 1) you get Tarantino ODing and 2) he finally admits his foot fetish. But back to The Dogs. I've come up with a list of all the ways Reservoir Dogs fills the quota for a Tarantino movie. Ramblers, let's get rambling. 

The Plot: It's a simple enough plot--a gang of thieves are stuck in a warehouse after a robbery gone bad and forced to figure out which one of them is the rat. It's practically textbook. Until Tarantino gets his hands on it, that is.

The Music: What astounds me about Reservoir Dogs is that Tarantino does not hold back. He isn't trying to please anyone. He's making the movie he wants, period. It has all of his signature moves: the long, drawn out conversations, the Mexican standoff, and of course, the hectic and often hilarious music. As the Dogs strut their stuff to Little Green Bag, you've gotta wonder if everyone knew quite how iconic this movie was going to turn out to be. Then to throw the whole movie on its head by ending on Harry Nilsson's Coconut--I mean, who does that shit? Tarantino does that shit. Black humor is really what sells Tarantino movies time and time again--after all, it's be easy to sell this off as a tense drama with a lot of hard stares and overcompensating tough guys. Instead, we've got Mr. Orange flailing in his own blood (over cheery music, I might add), Mr. Pink whining about tipping waitresses, and a Copacabana funeral hymn. There is no such thing as background music in a Tarantino movie, instead he uses it to heighten the hilarity of the situation and keeps us completely and utterly engaged. Then, of course, there's Stuck In The Middle With You. More on that later...

Badasses being badass.

The Characters: Despite the fact that this is about as ensemble as they get, if I had to pick two main characters they'd probably be Mr. Orange and Mr. White. Mr. White is one of those criminals you can't help but love--he's got a heart of gold, and while you don't particularly ever want to get on Mr. White's bad side, he's a very caring kind of guy. He spends the majority of the movie trying to comfort Mr. Orange and he stands up for things we can all get behind--like loyalty and bromance. Mr. Orange is the other side of that coin--he's a sneaky little undercover bastard, but on the same token, he's very human. A little cocky, maybe, a little reckless, but he's "the good guy"...or at least, he would be in any other film. However, in a movie filled to the brim with anti-heroes, it's the man of the law who becomes the closest thing to an antagonist. 

The Actors: Tarantino is known for doing two things: taking actors out of retirement and putting obscure faces on the map. And it's not hard to see why. Every Dog shines--from Harvey Keitel's no-nonsense bull dog mug to Tim Roth's frantic terrier energy to Steve Buscemi's wide-eyed Chihuahua yaps. If you're wondering what happened to those infamous dogs playing poker, look no further.

And I've got to give some love and attention to the supporting cast. Of course, Michael Madsen, my man. But I'm talking about Chris Penn, who was underrated in his time, but always a joy to watch. Seriously, you can tell why Nice Guy Eddie doesn't really come into present tense of the film until the end because when he is in it, he steals the fucking camera. Also, I will add that Chris Penn and Michael Madsen were very close in real life, and their chemistry shows when they're rolling around on Big Daddy's floor together. Speaking of Big Daddy, Lawrence Tierney. Apparently a pain in the ass to work with. You have to listen to the stories to believe them, so I'm just going to put the video up here. But damn...worth the pain. Joe Cabot is the quintessential mob boss man, and you don't get much better than that.

The Conversation: I mean, really. What would a Tarantino movie be without those long, drawn out conversations that he's the absolute master of perfecting? I've heard some people complain that they get bored whenever the characters dive into conversations about movies or music or whateverthefuck, but those people clearly aren't listening. Although they seem random, they never are--they always divulge important information about the characters while steadily building a natural yet intense tension.

In my opinion, there are two really brilliant conversations in Reservoir Dogs. The first is, of course, the opening scene. AKA: Madonna's Big Dick. It's hilarious, it's natural, and it sets up the characters relationships for the entire movie. We've got tension between Mr. Blonde and Mr. White, which in turn highlights Mr. Blonde's loyalty to Joe Cabot. We've got Mr. Orange trying to blend in and doing his damnedest to be "one of the guys". We've got Mr. Pink showing his true selfish colors as the one character focused entirely on his own survival. It's a ten minute conversation about music and address books, but it sets up the tone of the movie and gives us an insight into every one of the characters at the table.

The second conversation that I love is more of a monologue than anything. Mr. Orange's one story that's supposed to sell him as a completely legit criminal. It's a brilliant piece, complete with flashbacks and an occasional interjection from his audience. And it does a multitude of things all at once: it solidifies Mr. Orange's backstory, it shows him as the master storyteller he is, and it gives us a reason to root for him. Not to mention, it's just fucking hilarious. Oh, and hi, Lawrence Bender.

image from listal.

The Iconic Moment: You guessed it. My absolute favorite moment of the entire film--Stuck In The Middle With You. It works on every level imaginable. It's grotesque, it's painful, it makes me laugh, it makes me cringe, and it makes me love Michael Madsen more than I thought possible. And Mr. Blonde cuts a bitch's ear off. C'MON. From Madsen's funny twists and turns, to the way he talks into the severed body part, to the final, abrupt end, there is nothing I don't love about this scene. We even get a neat little intermission, following Mr. Blonde out of the warehouse to get his gas can. Dogs bark, birds sing, kids play. And then it's right back inside to finish up his twisted, bloody dance. No matter how many times I watch this scene, I can't get over it. Magic, my friends, fucking magic.

And then there's Kirk Baltz. Also known as Officer Marvin Nash. Give this man an award. Fun fact of the day: most of his panic was ad-libbed. Which is impressive to get away with, especially on a Tarantino set. Still, the moment when he starts on about his children at home? All improvisation. Looking for proof? Listen closely, the newly-turned-father Michael Madsen grumbles in displeasure off screen. Still, they kept the take, because Kirk Baltz is that fucking brilliant.

Image from gonemovies.com.

The Mexican Standoff: Where to end this lovefest except at the end? After running a perfect 90 minutes, the tension of the film finally culminates until a full on Mexican standoff. We've got the Cabots on one side--Joe and Nice Guy Eddie--and Mr. White on the other side, standing up for his ideals and his bromance. Never mind that the bromance is ill-fated and ends in tragedy. And, of course, the only one who makes it out alive is the never-tips-a-waitress Mr. Pink, who you can hear getting pulled over and arrested in the background. All in all, it was the only way this movie could've ended, and Tarantino pulls it off brilliantly. With coconuts. There is really nothing I don't love about this movie. If you haven't seen it, I pity the fool.

Coming up next: True Romance (1993). I'll be putting up all the (one?) Reservoir Dogs posts I receive on/around April 1st. April will in turn be the month of the True Romance, and if you send me any and everything you've got on the movie, I'll put up those posts on March 1st. Full speed ahead to Django!

Feast On This.

BOOGIE NIGHTS (1997)

Bromance is in the air.

So I didn't really want to see this movie. I didn't. I thought this was going to be a stupid movie about Mark Walhberg's dick. I was wrong. It's an excellent movie about Mark Walhberg's dick. If you've seen Boogie Nights, you know why 13 is an important number. If you haven't, I'm not going to elaborate. And so I give you 13 inches reasons why Boogie Nights is the most badass fucking movie I've seen in a long time.

1. Dirk and Reed's bromance. I've gotta say, out of all the things I enjoyed in this movie, there was little I enjoyed more than the bromance that existed between Dirk Diggler and Reed Rothchild. Mark Wahlberg and John C. Reilly have amazing chemistry, and their back and forth banter really makes you fall in love with the characters easily. So Reed may not be the splitting image of Han Solo, but they can play like children and spend hours one-upping each other. Yet despite the constant competition, you always get the feeling that they've got each other's back, and it makes for a solid bromance. 

2. Mark Wahlberg's...face. I bet you thought I was going to devote one of these numbers to another attribute of Mark Wahlberg's, didn't you? Wrong. Did I mention I'm a lesbian? But in all honesty, it makes me jealous and I don't want to talk about it Wahlberg's subtle expressions really renewed my faith completely in his acting skills. I'm speaking, of course, about the last chapter, "Long Way Down (One Last Thing)", in which Dirk, Reed, and Todd find themselves trapped in a drug lord's den. And the camera stays on Mark Wahlberg's face. For a good fifty seconds. Exactly. I counted. And in those fifty seconds, we see a complete shift in Dirk's character. A wordless, effortless self-realization of where he is, who he is, of the fact that he's hit rock bottom. It's a compliment to the director, the script, and the actor that they had enough faith in themselves and in the audience to have the turning point of the movie rely entirely on this charged yet utterly subtle moment. Aaaand I'm done gushing.

3. Little Bill's demise. It's one of those scenes you just watch, feeling the tension grow, knowing what's going to come next but not quite believing it, and then finally--BAM. And all you can think is, "Fuck, why couldn't I have written that?"

4. The characters. We actually gave a crap about them. Is the movie long? It's two and a half hours and knows it. But it's a character epic. Every character is fleshed out, important, and has his or her own story. There are no sloppy extras, no stand ins. Everyone feels like they have a purpose, which makes the world feel very real.

5. The chicks. What's great about this movie? It's about the porn industry, and yet none of these women come off as "the victim". We don't have any of that stereotypical "paying my way through college" bullshit. All these characters are here because they have a real reason to be here, they all want to be in the industry--whether that desire is a masochistic one or not. Which in turn means that we don't get any women who are victims of circumstance and therefore think they're badass because they're crass and bitter. Instead, we get women who actually take control of their sexuality, which empowers them way more than any sulking pity party would.

Amber (Julianne Moore) could have been a helpless character. While she is a tragic character and definitely has a lot of drama in her life, she's never pathetic--we see her constantly making her own choices and trying to make control of her own life. Rollergirl (AKA: the best thing Heather Graham has ever done with her life) takes control by actually enjoying her job. She respects herself, respects her lifestyle, and will stomp you in the face with her roller-skates of fucking doom if you dare disrespect her. Both lead women are powerful characters, and amazing as fuck actresses. 

6. The dicks. The guys in this movie are just as great as the chicks. Sex is a big part of their lives, but not all of it--they've got their own complexes going on. Dirk Diggler just wants to be famous. Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds) just wants to make a good movie. Buck Swope (Don Cheadle) just wants to open his own records store. Little Bill (William H. Macy) just wishes his wife would stop sleep around. Scotty (is that...Philip Seymour Hoffman?) just wants to be loved. They're all great, lovable characters. And the acting. William H. Macy (AKA: "my fucking wife has an ass in her cock") can be my sperm donor. So can Don Cheadle. Fuck it, anyone in this movie. I can find fault with none of them. Between the script and the acting, this long ass movie has you enjoying every long ass minute. 

7. Reed's poem. Everything about Reed is amazing. Porn star, magician, poet. I give you...an original work of art by Reed Rothchild. 

I love you, you love me. Going down the sugar tree. We'll go down the sugar tree, and see lots of bees: playing, playing. But the bees won't sting, because you love me.

Can you tell this movie renewed my respect for John C. Reilly and his comic timing?

8. Porn. Porn in the 70s/80s. It was actually that ridiculous. Dirk Diggler was for the most part based off an early porn star known as John Holmes. And let me just say that if you thought that fake-dialog from movie was bad, it was nothing compared to the amazing awfulness that John Holmes worked with. He shows his lady a picture of his mother. He mourns a future life with 30-40 cats. And he cries. No worries, the clip below is completely work and grandmother friendly, though you may find yourself compulsively touching your funny bone. 

9. The sex. Reason number one why this is a badass movie. Boobies. So maybe it doesn't have as much sex as Shame (2011), but it has its raunchy bits and it uses them well. For a movie about the porn industry, there actually isn't as much sex as you'd probably expect. Nonetheless, the moments they do have hot and steamy bits are used well, and help the plot along. By which I mean, Julianne Moore is really smokin' hot. On the flip side, there are other sex scenes which will not turn you on. Scenes that will give you that sick, ugly feeling in your gut when the characters spiral downhill. Which, really, is just as good.

10. The drugs. Reason number two why this is a badass movie. Welcome to the 80s. Welcome to blow. Gratuitous white powder, angry drug lords, and strung out porn stars. 

11. The rocknroll. Reason number three why this is a badass movie. 99 Luftballoons. I don't know what the fuck this chick's saying, but it's the shit. The soundtrack is great, I dig it. 

12. The silence. Which builds something called suspense. The more you linger on a scene, the more invested the audience becomes in finding out what happens next. Simple as that. Why didn't P. T. ever do any horror movies?

13. The premise. It's genius. An epic about Marky Mark's dick. By setting the bar so low with a seemingly ridiculous plot that couldn't possibly take itself seriously, the movie subtly sucks you in and makes you fall for every one of the characters. It's just one of those rare examples of a brilliant concept, a brilliant script, a brilliant cast, and a brilliant prosthetic limb all coming together.

If you haven't seen this movie, give yourself an early Christmas present and check it out.

"I'm Not Frightened. A Little Terrified, Maybe."

SHALLOW GRAVE (1994)

The ultimate third date movie?

So this one has a bit of a back story. Every now and then, my girlfriend and I have "date night", in which we, like the cinematic junkies we are, pull a movie from the pile and cuddle up like good lesbians to watch it. We'd just done her choice of a James Marsden fest (who if you don't know him, you'd do well to get acquainted with, he's another one of those underrated actors that slips under the radar)--Gossip (2000) followed up by Enchanted (2007). Enchanted I appreciated since it was literally just an excuse to get the handsome Marsden to act completely ridiculous for an hour and half, but Gossip lit up my imagination. I'm not going to go into too much detail, except to say that it's a story about three roommates (James Marsden plus Lena Headey and Normal Reedus, two very under-appreciated yet always brilliant actors) who decide to start up a little strain of gossip as a class project, but end up getting themselves involved in a twisted bit of lies, manipulation, and rape. You can also watch it instantly on netflix if you have the netflix power.

When was the last time you heard these exact words:
"You are the sunshine of my life?"

The three-roommates-getting-themselves-in-shit plot line immediately reminded me of a little gem I'd seen a while back--you guessed it, Shallow Grave. So, for our next date night, I suggested we watch Shallow Grave. Dudes and dykes, a tip: there's scary movies, and then there's traumatizing movies. Scary movies make a great date night. Pop in Paranormal Activity (2007) and you'll have your lovely lady clinging to you the entire night. However, pop in The Human Centipede (2010) and you might as well make yourself at home on the couch. 

I for one forgot how fucking traumatizing Shallow Grave is. I should've expect it, really. It's Danny Boyle's first movie that wasn't made-for-TV, and we know him as the father of such uplifting movies such as Trainspotting (1996). However, no baby crawling up the ceiling can really prepare you for Shallow Grave. The plot is simple enough: three friends, Alex Law (Ewan McGregor), David (Christopher Eccleston, waaaaaay before Dr. Who), and Juliet (Kerry Fox) find their new flat mate dead in his room with a suitcase of money. And they decide to do the right thing: hand it over to the police. Draw curtains. Wasn't that a good movie? If only. Instead, they do what every film character who has ever found a suitcase full of money does: take it for themselves. However, what makes this movie different is the devastating reality of it all. The characters feel real, the situation feels real, and there is little more terrifying than watching humanity disintegrate. In many ways, I'm glad this is Danny Boyle's first movie. It's a little low budget, darkly filmed, very, very basic. And it's because there are no fancy CGI images or ultra-cinematic polishing of the images that it feels so gritty and real. 

Practicing for I Love You, Philip Morris?

The thing is, Danny Boyle sets the stage perfectly. They're just kids, ridiculous fucking kids, who want a lot of money so they can blow it on expensive camera equipment, lots of alcohol, and a couple of fancy dresses for Alex to crossdress in. And then of course, there's David. Mr. Debbie Downer. Who didn't want anything to do with this in the first place, but ended up being the one who had to saw off the dead man's hands and feet and smash his face in. I can't image what he's so upset about. And thus begins David's spiral into insanity as he hides the suitcase of money in the attic and lives there, protecting it from his roommates and anyone else who might come after it. Like the two mobsters who kill everyone in between them and the suitcase, or the detective who stumbles across the dead body and haunts the flat.

The deaths are definitely the most horrific parts of the whole movie. That seems a bit obvious, but...normally, seeing characters murdered doesn't really rub me the wrong way. It's movies, it's fun. However, there's just something about the way it's filmed that really sucks you in...so when one man gets shoved in an ice box with cement bags holding down the lid, you feel the suffocating horror of being there with him. It's so visceral the only thing I can compare it to is The Bride's initial reaction to being shoved in a coffin and buried 6 feet under. Tell me you weren't holding your breath the first time you saw that. And then there are the little subtle details. The sound of feet pattering against the ceiling as David paces back and forth in his attic cave, the way the light bleeds in the from his floorboards, the Cabbage Patch whateverthefuck baby crawling mechanically across the floor. Subtle little details that really make the movie the psychological mindfuck of an experience it is. 

As for the acting, it's genius. In my opinion, it's one of Ewan McGregor's better roles, as he gets to get a little outside of his "nice guy" image and plays something of a manic prick. Plus, it's the best mane of his career. Eccleston is brilliant; he's subtle, and we fluctuate constantly with sympathizing with him and being completely terrified of him. Kerry Fox I thought occasionally left some to be desired, but that was sort of who her character was--a semi-decent actress playing the stage of life who got by with a little manipulation and charm. Plus, her character herself was great, Juliet wasn't the temptress per se, but instead matched Alex's competitive streak and worked well to balance the two men of the house. She was untrustworthy, yet foxy enough in that British sort of way that we forgave her. And she has a great final scene of pure panic, and pulls it off brilliantly. And if anyone was looking for a movie that show cases Ewan McGregor's ability to sound like he's actually in a shit ton of pain with his groans and pathetic little squeaky noises, this is it. 

The thing about this movie is that it's fucking brilliant. It hooks you in, right away, and makes you care about these characters, even if they're all kind of assholes. But the script is so good, that even when they are assholes--such as Alex's multiple digs at poor Cameron--you can't help but laugh along with them; the many comedic lines lift the heaviness of the actual film here and there, making it one of those movies you laugh and cry at simultaneously. It mindfucks you into oblivion with them, and just when you think it couldn't get any more clever, the twist at the ending is so fucking satisfying that instead of telling you what it is and ruining the movie, I'll leave you with this image:

And they all lived happily ever after. 

7, 8, 9, 10, The Nightmare's Back...Again.

A Nightmare On Elm Street

I tried to warn you. I did. Honest. But Freddy pulled out your veins and danced you like a puppet all the way to the remote. And so begins the A Nightmare on Elm Street version of the Star Wars Prequels. They're ridiculous, occasionally painful, and undermine the brilliance of the rest of the series. Not to mention, it's an origins story about a badass villain who we didn't really care about where he came from. It's not quite as bad as the epicness of Darth Vader turned into a pansy little "sand is soft" Anakin. But it still gives Wes Craven good reason to stay up at night. 

A Nightmare On Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987)

Stop. Go back. Read the title again. A Nightmare on Elm Street. Dream Warriors. The title really says it all. No, I'm sorry. The title image really says it all. 

That's right. If you thought the first two were cheesy, you're about to become lactose intolerant. It's like a Freddy Kruger/Charlie the Unicorn crossover. They might as well have Care Bears dance across the screen in rainbow colored kneesocks and fit the letters together. 

The premise is already overdone. A group of Elm Street mental patients are in the hospital for sleeping disorders. Nevermind that they all claim to see the exact same man in their dreams. Since the children are basically parentless for the extent of the movie (except for Kristen's mom. Andele!), we have the evil director lady, who doesn't miss a beat to put the kids in harm's way. And another surprising cameo--Lawrence Fishburne (Morpheus) plays Max, a caretaker with a heart and a protective eye on the children. 

Speaking of surprises. Nancy returns! That's right, Heather Langenkamp reprises her role as Nancy Thompson from the first movie, the initial Freddy surviver. Three years later and she still hasn't taken acting classes. But Nancy has her life under control. She's a dream psychiatrist, she takes pills to push her so far under she can't dream, and has a strand of white hair to age her or something. She invites herself to one of the therapy circles, lead by good ol' Dr. Neil Gordon. He plays "the good guy", attentive to the needs of the children, and ultimately to the needs of Nancy. Nancy gets the kids to talk, revealing their Kuger traumas. 

That night, one of the girls from the group, Kristen dreams about Nancy. No. Not one of those dreams, unfortunately. Instead, she somehow manages to pull Nancy into her Freddy dream, and Nancy and Freddy confront each other once more. In which Nancy offers the wise, comforting advice of someone who's spent her entire life fighting Freddy: "RUN!" Nancy and Kristen reconvene with the best of the group where Nancy spills the beans to them, telling them all about her past history with Freddy. After working to convince the Doctor that she's not completely batshit (which, for Nancy, is always hard, especially since she spends a good portion of the movie trying to feed the kids experimental drugs), the group try to come together and use their powers to stop Freddy. 

Image from nightmareonelmstreetfilms.com 

Oh, wait. I didn't mention they have powers, did I? That's right. They have motherfucking dream powers. Which, in non-retarded terms, means they have "special abilities" they can use in their dreams. Okay. Let me make some comparisons. In Inception, they have a woman who can shape the world, a shapeshifter, and a man who can beat up basically anybody. Those are special abilities. In Dream Warriors, we have Kristen, who can do handstands, Joey, who can pick up hot women, Kincaid, who has super strength, Taryn, who can become (in her words) "beautiful...and bad",  and Will, who is--and I wish I was kidding on this one--the Wizard Master.  These are "special" abilities. Together, how could they not defeat Freddy Kruger? 

For all the flack I give this movie, there is one thing that...I have to admit...it does well. And that is, of course, the Freddy deaths. I was a little skeptical at first. Freddy was badass when he was simply...Freddy. When he had those creepy fucking hands and slashed people to ribbons. This Freddy isn't so much about the slashing. Instead, he animates inanimate objects, morphs into giant worms, that sort of thing. However, there were some pretty badass deaths. Especially the puppet scene, in which he rips out a kids veins and works him like a puppet, making him walk straight out the window. Yeah. That was morbid, disgusting, and just straight brilliant. Then there was the burner girl, who finally got her spot on TV, just not quite the spot she'd hoped for. And then, there's this, which speaks for itself:

A Nightmare On Elm Street 4: The Dream Master (1988)

The nightmare continues. All the awful kids we met in the third movie? Yeah. They're back. Only this time, we at least get the treat of watching them all die in the first 30 minutes or so. Rock on. Well, almost all of them. We're still stuck with Alice, for god knows what reason. Yes, okay. She can drag other people into her dreams. Fine, her power is important for the premise of the movie. But the character herself is still boring as hell. She's slightly ethereal, beautiful, but all in all, flat and pointless.

No, Harry, it's not a gay thing.

The movie picks up from where the last one dropped off. Sort of. Freddy's bones, which had been finally put to rest, are dragged back up out of the ground and he's revived. At least, that's the easy answer. The other answer is the token black kid had a dream in which his dog peed fire on Freddy's bones and opened up a portal to hell through which Freddy resurfaced. Yeah. We're not even going to try to dissect that one. The thing is, there's little in this movie that does make sense. The second movie in a trilogy is usually awkward, the first being the initial one to set us up, the third being that conclusive and satisfying bang we finish on, and the second being...that unfortunate middle child. Here, however, we have an awkward second movie quadrilogy. Yeah. I had to look that word up. If wikipedia says it's true, than it must be, right?  Anyway. The point is, this movie has very little to do with the third movie or the fifth movie. It's just Alice, going crazy, going through some more shit, and watching her friends die. We don't find much more about Freddy's past than we already know, but if you're like me, frankly you don't really want to know much more about a man who was terrifying because he wasn't quite human, because he didn't have a past.

Nevertheless. In the spirit of the movie before it, this addition offs the really kickass characters way too early on. We have--finally!--a nerdy character. Sheila, the short girl with glasses who's not afraid to be a dork and let everyone else know that's she's better than them because she reads books. Which would be obnoxious, except for the fact that she actually is better than them. It's nice, after an entire four movies of the popular girl/jock/Jesus nut as the hero to have an actual outcast, an...dare I say it...interesting character. She's an electronics specialist, she wears cool glasses, and she has down to earth advice about killing Freddy. She so has this in the bag. Well. Except for the fact that she doesn't, at all, and the second Freddy comes to get her, he destroys her. Hmm. Then there's Alice's boyfriend. He's entirely uninteresting, except for the fact that he knows kung fu. I...wonder...if...that's...going...to...come...back. But I have an official grudge against her boyfriend for the fact that they had one couple minute scene that repeated itself literally about four or five times. Seriously. I got the point after the third time. Hell, they could've stopped after the second time. But that many times? It's enough to make you crazy. Last in our cast of characters is a Alice's other BFF, a woman body builder who hates bugs. Let's just say that...well. You are what you hate? Some kind of message there.

The Fly sequel?

My biggest problem with this movie? Was that despite the fact that it was ridiculous and absurd and made very little sense at all, the ending was actually...pretty badass. All in all, the best of the Freddy demises, in my opinion. I mean, the souls of the kids literally burst out of his body. He's got hands coming from his stomach, his legs, the back of his head. It's horrifying, brilliant, and an actual fit end for such an awesome villain. Most of the Freddy movies that ended with his "death" left me with a "Oh, come on. He's better that that." But this time...It actually felt like a just end to the nightmare creeper. And it could've ended there. It really could have.

A Nightmare On Elm Street 5: The Dream Child (1989)

Yep. It's exactly what you're thinking. Dumb Alice returns and gets herself "a little pregnant." And apparently babies in the womb can dream. And this baby is dreaming about a pedophile who wants to use him to destroy his mother and...rebith...and etc. We're introduced to little baby Jacob, Alice's future son who appears to her in her dreams. He's a creepy little child. And somehow that convinces her not to abort him. Because if I was holding a demon child in my womb, I'd keep it too. Well, to be on the fair side, this child can be saved. She just has to...you know. Destroy Freddy for the third time. Shouldn't be too hard, right? Riiiight. 

"It's a boy!"

As in the last one, this Nightmare has it's own cast of quirky characters. There's the professional swimmer, the model who's constantly harassed by her mother (back to these kind of parents again), and a comic book fanatic. I left the comic book kid for last because, while they each how their own genre-themed battles to fight with Freddy, his is definitely the most amusing. Return of the Wizard Master? Something like that. It's stupid, it's ridiculous, but after marathoning five Nightmare movies and finally giving myself over to them, I'll throw in the white towel and say it: it's fun. In the list of cool character deaths, lastly, we have a boyfriend who becomes one with his motorcycle. You would think that after his car literally animated itself and tried to kill him, he would stay off the road. Find another means of transportation. Something. But he took the jumping right back on the horse metaphor a little too literally and hops on his motorcycle. You've got to give the boy credit, even as the motorcycle starts to rip through his skin and dig it's wires into his muscles, he takes it like a champ and hangs on. 

On the flip side, we're getting more Freddy history. This is a little more interesting that the others, even if it doesn't quite jive. We're transported back to Freddy's mother's conception--aka, getting raped by a mob of insane asylum patients. Skip jump to Freddy's birth to find he's a literal creature. Not even human. This little evil alien baby. Birth, rebirth, all themes this movies plays around with. Whether it's dream or reality, we kind of stop caring. It doesn't make much sense as it is, might as well just run with it. Freddy, it turns out, does have a similar pattern as all the Elm Street kids--he hates his mother. Can't even stand to be in the same room with her. Really, what IS it with these writers and their parents? 

I think everyone can agree with me when I say that adding a baby to a series almost always ends in pain. I can't really think up a single baby addition that was a good idea. In this case, it's one of those things where the series itself is so ridiculous, you might as well throw a baby in there. No one's really going to notice. So long as Freddy's not raising it, I'm happy. 

Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare (1991)

So...remember when I said the only thing worse than Freddy possessing a kid was Freddy having a kid? Yeah...about that. Freddy's Dead kicks off with an entirely different feel from the other movies. And by that I mean it's a lot more nineties than eighties, even though it's only three years after of the last movie. Well. Time flies. This movie is a bit of a "grand finale" piece, taking bits and pieces from all the movies that came before it and mashing them all together in a gelatinous pile of mediocrity. 

The cure to any nightmare villain. Duh.

We have the return of the mental hospital, the dream doctors...our cast of characters splits up into two sections. First, there's John Doe, a kid with amnesia who has severe falling dreams, and his therapist Maggie, who has a reoccurring dream of a moment in her childhood her brain is trying to forget. John Doe is just ridiculous, which becomes clear after ten minutes of watching him fall down a hill and say "Wow!" in 100 different ways. They go on a trek to leave the hospital and go to Springwood (the town in which Elm Street resides) in order to pick up clues about John Doe's past. They find out that everyone is crazy. Literally. There are no children in the town and the entire town is a madhouse for old people stuck in some sort of Stepford dream like state. I wish I was exaggerating. To make things better, they have stowaways--three mental patients from the hospital escaped in the back seat of their van. There's Tracy, the tough girl with anger (and screeching) issues, Carlos, the deaf kid, and Spencer, the stoner who I recognized as Breckin Meyer from Rat Race. 

To be honest, there's nothing that remarkable about most of the deaths in this movie. Which is a pity considering watching one of the poorly written characters die a gruesome death really makes it worth the 90 minutes sometimes. However, we do get an anti-drug campaign in which Spencer gets high and everyone freaks out on him. Even Johnny Depp, who makes a brief cameo just to tell Spencer "This is your brain...this is your brain on drugs" (What'd I say about bringing it all back?). 

Despite all the bullshit this movie drags us though, it does give us an interesting little twist. Alright, so I bitched about Freddy having a kid. But this movie actually pulls it off. Don't ask me how. The thing is, we dig deeper into Freddy's past. Not the crap with the weird disfigured baby popping out of his mom and scrambling across the floor. We actually delve into what Freddy was like...before the burns and the nightmares. A glimpse of child!Freddy, doing sadistic things to hamsters. A glimpse of his caretaker being an evil crazy bastard (wow, TOTALLY didn't see that coming. It's not as though authority has been evil this entire series). And finally, a glimpse of Freddy, with a wife and a child. Now. That is interesting. Not only do we see Robert Englund without the scars, which is exciting as fuck for some reason, but we see Freddy...as a normal, sadistic, child killing father. Thank you. To see him unravel, trying to hide the secret of his "special projects"...that's what I find interesting. It doesn't undermine him as a villain, in fact, it makes him a better, creepier villain. To see that he is human, yet still capable of these gruesome acts. I could've done without the whole "they took my child and that drove me to kill" bit, but beggars can't be choosers. I think he's sadistic enough without trying to squeeze extra motivation in. 

All in all, it's been a long, exhausting ride. My suggestion would be to watch the series with friends: first so you can hold them during A Nightmare On Elm Street 1 and 2, and then so you can laugh with them throughout the rest of the series. And, just because I really can't get enough of this kid, I leave you with this humble summation of A Nightmare On Elm Street 3-6: