"2,500 Tons of Awesome."

PACIFIC RIM (2013)

Image from eonline.com.

It goes without saying that, from day one, I was drooling over this movie like Tarantino at a shoe store. Big, massive aliens from the sea fighting mechanical powerhouses of destruction. Sold. Aliens and robots are pretty much my favorite thing (with cowboys and aliens coming in as a close second, tied only by mobsters and robots--if that isn't a movie, it needs to be created), so I was really, really easy to please. 

But no. They couldn't stop there. They couldn't just give me an awesome movie filled with bone-crunshing punches and shrill, otherworldly screams. No, they had to also build an intricate universe, sprinkled with moments of quirky humor and lovable characters.

You guys. It's looking like Christmas sure as hell came early for me this summer. 

There were, of course, a couple things that stood out to me that I've got to mention. So, with that, here are five reasons why Pacific Rim has officially set the summer blockbuster bar high. 

1. Not a Bolt Out of Place

ROBOTS.

Normally, I'm something of a sensitive movie-goer. I'm not the biggest fan of 3D and all those...gizmos and gadgets. So the fact that I saw this in IMAX 3D should have been a problem for me. But it wasn't. I barely noticed the 3D aspects of it. Now, to people who enjoy the shit-popping-out-at-your-face bit, that might be a problem. To me? It worked perfectly. 

But it's more than just the 3D. Occasionally, when you see a movie that's about 95% CGI, it shows. You can tell when the actors are talking to blank, green space. You can tell when something just doesn't feel right. Even if the CGI looks spot on, there will sometimes be that disconnect, that fabricated feeling. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the actors had such a deep respect and connection to their CGI robot machine-suits, but somehow, the CGI felt completely natural to me. It was organic to the world and flowed seamlessly through the film. A+ to the nerds who worked on that one. 

2. Drifting

Image from http://www.slate.com.

Can we talk for a second about how awesome drifting is? A mental brain-connection between two people and a machine. C'mon. That's fucking awesome. In fact, all the world-building details of this story were awesome. Everything from drifting to the wall they tried to build to the various different Jaeger models and their human teams (can I have a movie solely about the Russians now?). I am going to be very, very sad when sci-fi goes back out of style. Like, borderline depressed. Mark my words.

3. Idris Elba

Just stop with your awesome, Mumbles.

Let me count the ways I love this man. I will follow him to the Apocalypse. And then watch him cancel that shit. I was probably the most invested in his character, simply because he was exactly the kind of over-the-top character that fit so perfectly into the texture of the world. Not to mention, his character was hard and direct when he had to be hard and direct, yet was able to inspire anyone to action with only a few precise words. You go, Idris Elba. 

4. Everyone Else

Image from http://www.nerdist.com.

What can I say? The acting was good. Charlie Hunnam--who you have to love for his subtle fuck you faces if nothing else--it turns out is great on and off the motorcycle. He's turning out to be a surprisingly versatile actor and I'm looking forward to seeing more of his face. His counterpart, Rinko Kikuchi, was everything she needed to be--wide-eyed, inquisitive, and somehow simultaneously bold and timid. 

5. The Newton's Cradle

Just because I can't get enough of these two.

More than the acting, the writing was good. Which, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting. No, they're not going to win an Oscar for best screenplay anytime soon, but it was fun. It was more than a couple machismo-enfused one-liners. It was campy at times (moments which Charlie Day and Ron Perlman pulled off brilliantly), powerful and ribcage-expanding at times (all signs lead to Idris Elba), and even unexpected at times--some of my favorite moments involved the brief, still silences in which a seagull took flight or a Newton's cradle began to click in the middle of a city-crushing fight. The script knew it was a shameless, campy movie and ran with it--it didn't try to make it bigger than it was, it didn't set the audience up for a plethora of increasingly bad sequels (though I wouldn't be surprised if they happened anyway). The film never took itself too seriously while simultaneously giving the plot the epicness it deserved which, at the end of the day, what exactly what won me over. 

And Then A Wild Merman Appears!

THE CABIN IN THE WOODS (2011)

Image from empireonline.com.

Let's start this off by saying: I'm shamelessly, shamelessly biased when it comes to Joss Whedon. Really. The man has my heart and then some. If I could somehow steal the brain cells from Joss Whedon, Quentin Tarantino, and Guy Ritchie and inject them into my own skull, I'd probably be set for life. Robert Rodriguez can come too. The point is, Joss Whedon can do no wrong. I was destined to love this movie at first sight.

With that said, Joss Whedon isn't the only one who brings something to the table. Here are my five main reasons why I absolutely loved this one:

1. Men Behind The Curtain

It's one thing to create a mysterious evil company that does evil, mysterious things. It's another thing to create a mysterious evil company that does hilarious, common day workplace things and still maintains and aura of evil mystery. Despite the fact that the organization is clearly completely evil, you can't help but be fascinated, mortified and mildly endeared by their daily shenanigans. Even though we were supposed to be rooting for our friends in the woods, I would've been okay with watching the psychopathic puppeteers the entire time.

2. Dat Ass

Just when I thought a woman making out with a mounted animal head could not possibly be sexy...it is. Or maybe it's just the fact that she engages in a couple minutes of shameless ass shaking over the fireplace. Either way...you go, Anna Hutchison. Keep up the good ass. 

3. Fran Kranz

Here's the thing. Since I'm in the middle of watching Dollhouse (2009) on Netflix (hello, Joss Whedon fixation), I kind of already have a man-crush on Fran Kranz. So the fact that he spent the whole movie smoking up and trolling everyone made me adore him even more. The rest of the cast was good, don't get me wrong. Kristen Connolly was wide-eyed. Jesse Williams was...there. Chris Hemsworth was Chris Hemsworth. But, in my biased opinion, Kranz kind of stole the show. Plus, he has a pipe that transforms into a coffee mug. Now I know what I'm asking Santa for this year.

4. Motherfucking Merman

If you're going to have a creature movie, you've got to have excellent creatures. The zombies were cool. Particularly for their pain fetish. But things really got awesome when we got to see all the different creatures tucked away "downstairs." Most are familiar, but there were a few inventive scares that I had to give the movie props for. I, for one, wasn't actually really scared by this movie, but that doesn't mean I couldn't appreciate good creature designs. And if you have any doubts about the creatures, let me list off a couple creature names from the behind the scenes: Angry Molesting Tree, Balding Menace, Face Peeler, Man In Transparent Tarp, Exploding Shard Babies, and Snake Pubic Hair Woman. C'mon. I want a Cabin in the Woods II just so we can get more insane creature screen time.

And then there's the Merman. The most satisfying creature in the movie. You're waiting for it. Waiting for it. And then when it appears...it's more amazing than you anticipated. Karma wrapped up in a slimy, fanged, fishy mess. And the blowhole. THE BLOWHOLE. A thousand female fantasies suddenly sunk to the bottom of the lake and I absolutely loved it.

5. More Than Meets The Eye

At the end of the day, there's a reason Joss Whedon gets all my love. It's because he's a brilliant writer who has the uncanny ability to create deceptively simple stories with incredibly complex undertones. The Cabin in the Woods is, on the surface, a flawless, by-the-book shameless teenagers-meet-scary-cabin movie. We've got our stereotypical jocks, sluts, nerds, virgins, and that-best-friend-with-a-heart-of-gold. Hell, we've even got the old, gnarly man at the gas station who warns the teens of what lies ahead. And yet, it's so much more than that. On one hand, it's a borderline spoof of cabin-in-the-woods movies, entangled with a social commentary on our culture's voyeurism and lack of empathy. It's horror with touches of science fiction and a generous splash of comedy. And it works. Joss Whedon's talent truly lies his ability to create multiple layers all while making it look easy.

Basically, though I was probably one of the last people to see Cabin in the Woods and it was in grave danger of getting overhyped, it still managed to keep me hooked and then some. Which says a lot. Overall, I'd call this a successful satire, if not a successful, solid horror film in its own right. And Sigourney Weaver. I rest my case.

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.

And Then A Wild Aston Martin Appears!

SKYFALL (2012)

Obligatory bare-Craig-chest image.

Ever since Pierce Brosnan, we've become accustomed to a bigger, faster, explodier Bond. Each new movie had new gadgets, new gear, new nonsense. We propelled Bond into the future with invisible cars, cheap smiles, and all the luxuries of modern cinema. And we drank the punch. We expected Bond to get increasingly more hip and in-tune with our culturally relevant standards. We were waiting for Bond to switch out Q. for Google and start sexting his Bond girls.

And then Sam Mendes said, "Well. Fuck that."

Skyfall reminds us exactly why we loved the Bond films in the first place. If nothing else, it's a very loving homage to the Bond of the good old days. Bond is no longer clowned up and jumping around like a kangaroo on cocaine; he's a genuine spy. Yes, he's still the bold, brash bastard we all know and love, but he's a little more in control of the situation. Of course, the genius of this movie is that, for most of the movie, we get Bond completely out of his element. He spends the first half of the movie a battered, alcoholic mess with a very, very bruised ego. After twenty-three movies of a perfect shot, there's something extraordinarily satisfying about watching Bond miss his target. So not only do we have a highly competent organization set out to trip up Her Majesty's Secret Service, but we also have a damaged Bond struggling to keep up. I mean, why didn't anyone think of this before?

I think I've said all I can through my teeth. The twists in this movie are so epic that I would have to throw myself onto a Hattori Hanzo sword if I thought I spoiled this movie for anyone (even though, if you're a rabid Bond fan, you can see most of them coming ahead of time, it STILL doesn't change the fact that the "big reveals" are massively satisfying). That said, the spoiler portion of my review is under the cut! Otherwise, just see it, yeah? Or I will judge you. JUDGE.

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?

Who's Up For Chelios Pong & Why Am I Bleeding?

CRANK (2006)

The poster art was way too good to pass up.

DEAR GOD THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANT IN A MOVIE FUCKING SHIT MOTHER LOVING MONKEY CUNT...

...and so on and so forth. I was going to write this entire review in capitals and profanity, but then I had a small seizure halfway through, ran through ten walls, and now have new M.-shaped openings to wave to my neighbors though. In case you're wondering, yes, this movie is that fucking good.

So I tried to come up with an appropriate means to honor the epicness that is Crank. And I came up with this: Chelios Pong. It's kind of like a drinking game, a la my friends at French Toast Sunday. But lets be real, if you're watching Crank, you're not drinking. You're snorting lines of coke and zapping yourself with a taser every time your heart slows down. So, in honor of the awesome that is Crank, here is a game of Chelios Pong designed for Chev Chelios himself. Unless your name is Chev Chelios, do not try this at home or anywhere else. You will die. Maybe Chuck Norris can join in, but even that's pushing it.

TAKE A DRINK EVERY TIME CHELIOS PUT A GUN TO SOMEONE'S HEAD

We'll start off easy in Chelios Pong, even though Crank starts off as anything but. We're introduced immediately to Chev Chelios, the more-than-volatile hit-man who wakes up to find out he's been poisoned in his sleep and has about an hour left to live. And the only way to keep himself alive? Keep his heart pumping. Fast. The movie starts on a high note and just gets higher. It's really something to admire when you hit the ground running and keep the tension pumping until the last very frame. It's action, action, and more action. Not needless, not extraneous--very important, life saving action. Shameless premise? Absolutely. But we need more shamelessness like this! It's a movie that never has to apologize, and even if it did, it'd prefer to spit in your face and call you a fag. And, whenever you think you're about to hit a slow point and take a breath, there's that dull thud of Chelios' heartbeat, reminding you that, when time is ticking, every beat counts. And it's time to break some skulls.

SNORT A LINE OF COCAINE EVERY TIME A BADASS CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED

Now for the list of awesomeness. For a movie filled with some of the craziest fuckers you will ever meet, all the actors and actresses held their own and were perfect for each and every role. Jose Pablo Cantillo was perfect as the henchman with a short and explosive temper. Efren Ramirez worked it as the drag queen man-on-the-street, Kaylo. DRAG QUEEN. FUCKING AWESOME. Dwight Yoakam was a hilarious mad doctor, matched only by his Chocolate, Valarie Rae Miller. There was even some celeb-spotting--credited as "Hatian Cabbie" was the black man from X-Men: First Class (wonder why he died first...?). The thing is, at the end of the day, every actor seems to accept this movie for exactly what it is--a campy ass fun fucking time--and they embrace the spirit of that with their characters. Their crazy, crazy fucking characters.

Of course, the is leaving out the best character of them all. Chev Chelios himself. The dude is a fucking superhero. An action hero. A most epic character among epic characters. Let's look at the facts: he's a hit-man with a soft spot for his girl, but he harbors sadomasochistic tendencies even when he's not hopped up on "The Chinese Shit" and he's guaranteed to fuck everyone up, including himself. He's a straight up MOTHERFUCKING BADASS. Chev Chelios has that act-first-think-later attitude that we love in James Bond, but instead of being suave about it, he's crass and brutal. What it comes down to is this: Chev Chelios' biggest obstacle is Chev Chelios. Oh. And The Chinese Shit. 

STICK YOUR HAND IN A TOASTER EVERY TIME EVE DOES SOMETHING ADORABLE

No, not that kind of toaster, you dirty, geeky bastard. Though Caprica Six is about just as deadly. Moving right along...just when you think I couldn't get more excited about this movie, it happened. Eve. Anyone who's even skimmed this blog will know I have a bit of a fetish for rough and tumble women with guns. Eve is on the exact opposite side of that spectrum. She's the eye-candy, the pretty little thing that runs around with her purse and her squeals all blonde and boobs. An action movie essential. Get it? Got it? Good. 

Except there's more to Eve than that. The thing is, she's an actual character. I think the brilliance of Eve has to be credited partly to the script and partly to Amy Smart, who absolutely owns the role. I'll spell it out for you: in action movies, we have two types, the overcompensating (but always appreciated) butch badass, or the girly girly who hops from one tit to the other and doesn't do diddly. Eve rests somewhere in between. Granted, she doesn't wield the gun in the relationship--she leaves that all to Chev. But she's not a helpless woman. And therein lies the distinction: even though Eve is femme as hell, she not only takes care of herself, but also her man. She's the rhyme and reason behind Chelios, the driving force to why he does everything he does. He's got the muscle and the badassitry, but when she tells him to fix the clock on the microwave, boy best fix the clock on the microwave. Seriously, hats off to the script writers for writing one extremely fucking rare believable romance. Which, in turn, makes Eve one badass bitch. Their chemistry is great, their relationship feels genuine, and I'm with them every step of the way. Really, Nicolas Sparks has a thing or two to learn about adrenaline junkies and their hoes. 

INJECT YOURSELF WITH SOMETHING-THAT-STARTS-WITH-E EVERY TIME A NEW STYLE COMES UP

Here's the think--Crank is a really stylized movie. But in a good way. This is the epitome of some art in an action film. On the flip side, we've got movies like Drive, that are some action in an art film (I enjoyed the movie, I swear, I just also have a shit ton of fun making fun of it). The point is, there is a fine line, and Crank balances it perfectly. We've got our crazy fucking action, but it also happens to be blended perfectly with little bouts of comic-book-esque style. It adds to the heightened sense of ridiculousness and just makes the movie that much more awesome. 

STICK UP A HOSPITAL EVERY TIME CHELIOS EXPLAINS WHAT'S GOING ON

In certain movies, especially ones with convoluted plots, the main character will have to repeat the plot over and over to various minor characters, just to let everyone know what the fuck's going in. Crank had Chelios explain his heart issues over and over again. Why? Not because it's complicated. Not because the audience has a hard time wrapping their heads around it. No, every time Chelios has a little exposition scene, the writers are bragging. They're motherfucking bragging. Why? BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING AWESOME! WHY DIDN'T ANYONE COME UP WITH THIS PREMISE SOONER? WHY IS THERE BLOOD COMING OUT OF MY EAR--?

JUMP OUT OF A HELICOPTER EVERY TIME CHELIOS JUMPS OUT OF A HELICOPTER

Naturally, this is one you only have to do once. Be sure to watch out for wind interference while trying to make a phone call. 

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!

"You Shouldn't Think Of Her As A Woman."

HAYWIRE (2012)

Run, Forrest, run!

"You shouldn't think of her as a woman. That would be a mistake" is the way Ewan McGregor sweet talks the freelance spy Michael Fassbender into double-crossing the force of nature, Gina Carano. Yet I couldn't ignore the fact that Gina Carano was a no nonsense, ass-kicking action heroine, and it had nothing to do with her body (well...90% not to do with her body). It's no secret that I have a soft spot for badass chicks, so when I saw the trailer for Haywire, I prayed to Chuck Norris that it would deliver. And, oh. It motherfucking delivered. And then some. Haywire was not only a movie about a badass woman...it was just a badass movie all around. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (2011) did the slightly-too-slow building espionage thriller (thriller? Can I even call it a thriller when the thrill took so long?), Drive (2011) did artsy action film (action film? Can I even call it an action film when the majority of the action happened in the first five minutes?), and while both were awesome, neither really stabbed me in the heart and sunk it in to the hilt for me. Haywire was neither too hot nor too cold--it was just as badass as it needed to be. 

Being a BAMF.

Let's start with the beating, bloody heart of it: Gina Carano. Gina Carano is an action heroine with a gritty integrity that we haven't seen since the Bruce Lees and the Arnold Schwarzeneggers and the Jean-Claude Van Dammes of the 70s and 80s. She's a mixed martial arts fighter first, an actor second. Which means, in short, that she's not your stick figure action hero woman--this woman has enough meat and muscle on her to actually look the part. You would not want to get in a bar fight with her. Up until Haywire, she'd only been in a handful of tv movies, but she'd mainly been focusing all of her energies on kicking ass. And it pays off. Eat your heart out, Zoe Bell. Granted, the role of hardass tough guy doesn't quite need a woman with a large acting range. But who ever complained that Arnold just didn't bring enough tears into Predator (1987)? The beauty of the role is that Gina Carano is an actress with no baggage and she slips into Mallory's skin seamlessly and effortlessly. 

Speaking of Mallory. One of the great things about Mallory is that, yes, she is a ruthless, professional spy. But she isn't James Bond. She doesn't blindly throw herself out of a window without any idea of where it might lead. Instead, she has moments where she'll be mid-action and she'll actually stop for a couple seconds just to look around her, take in her situation, and plot her next move. It just so happens that her next move might include throwing herself out a window...but she knows where she'll land. She's impulsive, but she's well-trained, and she easily adapts to wiggle out of every corner she gets boxed into.

Aerial ass-kickery.

As for her wiggling, the fight scenes were fantastic. Really. Did I mention this woman kicks fucking ass? The action is just brilliant. The best part about it is that it's stripped down naked. We don't get slow motion fist-collisions, we don't get that shaky camera that leaves you trying to figure out who hit what. They barely even bother with quick-cuts into different camera angles. Instead, they keep us exactly where we need to be--in the middle of the action. Right alongside Mallory. This isn't to say Steven Soderbergh doesn't have a few tricks up his sleeve. The way he filmed each action sequence was definitely unique, but in a nice, subtle way. Example, one of the most tense fight scenes happens on a beach where most of the hard physical blows are drowned out under the sound of the water breaking on the shore. So yes, there is a degree of artsy aesthetics to this movie, but not so much that it ever takes away from what the movie is at its core--a heart-pounding, violence laden action movie. 

Can haz be in Fassbender's shoes?

Even Mallory's male posse fails to distract from the action of the movie. In any other female action hero flick, there's almost always the handsome hunk who leads us astray with a dull and lifeless plot line that we only put up with so we can see the female lead take off her clothes. They do it in male lead action movies too, with a tedious and ill conceived romantic plot aimed to heighten the stakes or some bullshit. My rule? If I wanted to watch romance, I would've let my better half pick the movie tonight. And with a movie like Haywire, filled to the teeth with tasty hunks of man flesh, it's tempting to throw in the cheap romantic subplot. And Haywire isn't entirely off the hook in this regard. But when it's done, it's done. It's subtle, it's tasteful, and (thank god) short lived. And considering the amount of sexual chemistry between the two (or should I say lack thereof), it might as well be classified more as a bromance than any real romance. There is no real sexual distraction in this movie. Even during the bit where Mallory and Michael Fassbender pretend to be arm candy in the classic newlyweds play, there is no genuine sexual chemistry. Are there a good couple sexual plays during the fight scene? She wraps her thighs around his throat, you fill in the blanks. But between the characters themselves? They're both exceedingly professional and don't even bother with batting eyes at each other. Which tells us something about Mallory--papa didn't raise no foo'.

I don't think I need to tell you that all the other actors hold their own. I mean, c'mon. Michael Douglas, Ewan McGregor, Antonio Banderas, Michael Fassbender. They have it written in their contracts that they must be badass at all times. The only one I was a little worried was Channing Tatum since I know nothing about him except that he made a bunch of bad movies geared to 14 year old girls with friendship bracelets, but he held his own with the rest of them. Everyone delivered. And they all (more or less) did their own fight scenes. Rock the fuck on. 

It's a simple, clear cut, well done action movie. The acting is great. The exposition is great. The pacing is great. Honestly, my only complaint about Haywire was that there wasn't enough of it. Haywire II, anyone? I've even got a title for you: Haywire II: Revenge Of The Moose. You know you want it. 

Ka-POW!

ENTER THE DRAGON (1973)

Merry Martial Arts-mas.

Honestly, what better way to celebrate the spirit of giving, loving, and bad wool sweaters than to watch Bruce Lee kick the shit out of everyone? My point exactly. Let's just say it, yes? Enter The Dragon (1973) is better than flying sabertooth tigers, badass mama cats, and Tom Hardy rapping. Enter The Dragon is basically better than everything. It's really not hard to see why. Bruce Lee (thinly disguised as Lee) takes on a case of 007 proportions when he agrees to join a martial arts tournament on an exclusive island to spy on an evil crime lord. To top it all off, it's a martial arts movie with undercurrents of spy thriller and blaxploitation, revenge films and redemption films. The best part of the movie for me is the way it's set up. A clear, straightforward plot, filled to the brim with lively characters. Despite the fact that it's an exciting action movie, the action is really just a nice little side dish to what is a wonderfully character driven flick.

Image from midnightonly.com.

Bruce Lee helms the film as the ever stoic Jedi fortune cookie. He's one with the force and stuff, and knows how to fight with his mind, not his strength. But with his strength too. Just look at those arms! The best thing about Lee is that, while he's a bonafide badass with superior martial skills and a battle cry that could explode bald eagles, he's got a great sense of humor. Instead of sitting lotus style on his high horse casting a weary eye on all those beneath him, he carries on with a sly grin and a couple well-deserved pranks on anyone who dares to piss him off. It makes him powerful, knowledgeable, but human. Why did we love Yoda in the original Star Wars? Because he chuckled at his own jokes as he mumbled incoherently to himself. Why did we hate Yoda in the new Star Wars? Because he had no personality and sat there stroking his butt-ugly CGI chin. You can be all powerful and still be all human, in a way that lets the audience actually connect to the character. Furthermore, Lee does have a revenge plot going--man indirectly killed his sister, yadayada. But somehow that's less important than the bonds he makes with the other characters, and the bromance he shares with all of them.

Image from midnightonly.com

Roper is our mandatory white guy lens, because we clearly need someone to translate all this asian crap for us. Did I mention the racism is borderline ridiculous? But you know what--I can handle it. Because unlike some movies from the 70s, the "minorities characters" here were...well. Badasses. Sure, they might've taken on all the stereotypes, but they fought their own fights, whooped the bad guys asses, and did it all in style. And Roper is...well. Just a very amicable tool. You can't help but like Roper. Played by John Saxon, Roper spends more time gambling than he does actually fighting, and will play the odds just to make a pretty penny. But when he does take a swing...he'll knock a man down in a single hit. Despite the fact that he's a gambling addict, Roper has a surprisingly high bar of unshakable principles and while every man has his price, Roper keeps his nose clean of nefarious business and stays true to his friends. You go, Roper.

Next up, Roper's Nam pal and token black friend, Williams, played by Jim Kelly. Williams is a cool cat with a happenin' jive, whatever that means. He's the kind of man who is constantly followed by a funky theme song and often found getting shafted by the po-po. What's a brotha to do? Beat the pigs up, that's what. The great thing about Williams is while he fulfills basically every blaxploitation stereotype, including his unquenchable sexual appetite, you've got to hand it to the guy, he does it all in style. I mean, after watching him pull his sweet martial arts moves, what small army of hookers wouldn't throw themselves at him?

As for the bad guys, we have a couple worth mentioning. First up we have Parsons, played by a guy who will never work again after this movie. He's one of the fighters in the tournament who isn't so much a bad guy as he is a straight up bully--he beats on the help, which is a clear sign that he's a psychopath. Parsons is a great character not because of anything he does, but because of his purpose in the story. He's simply there to add weight to the tournament so it's not a bunch of guys we like beating each other up, and he adds a nice extra layer of tension to the story (and then satisfaction when he gets his ass handed to him). In short, it's just plain smart screenwriting. As for the real villains, we've got the evil millionaire who pulls all the strings, known only as Han (Kien Shih). Han has a great deadpan evil thing going, but more than that, he's missing a hand and replaces said missing hand with various cruel hooks. So. What more can you really want from that? For henchmen, he's got Bolo (the thinly disguised Bolo Yeung), who is the prime example of what happens when you mate with an ox. Really, terrifying human being. And then there's O'Harra (Robert Wall), who is sleazy as hell and sports a scar across the side of his face to prove it. Oh, and he killed Lee's sister. Prepare to die.

"Bolo no like you like that!"

Speaking of the sister, a moment for the women. There's a an undercover woman played by Bette Chung, who really does fuck all. But she keeps a platonic relationship with the male lead, so that must make her some sort of super spy. Lee's sister on the other hand is a total badass. Su Lin (Angela Mao) proves herself to be worthy to carry Bruce Lee's blood in her veins when she gets chased down by an army of men and knocks them down like dominos. She pwns the hell out of any sinister man who crosses her path, and it's only after four minutes and a multitude of extras that they finally corner her and prompt her to kill herself to save her honor. Speaking of extras...holy shit. Is that Jackie Chan?

In short, Enter The Dragon is really the Christmas gift that keeps giving. To hell with a puppy, I want nunchucks in my stockings. Which are also better than Arnold's Pizza Shop.