Any time the name Eli Roth is associated with a film or series, I cringe. On occasion, I am only mildly disappointed with the result. I saw Cabin Fever in the theater upon its release, and went in with zero expectations. They were met.
So a year and a half ago, when I saw the initial trailer for Clown, brought to us by "Master of Horror" Eli Roth...yes, someone was paid, by either Roth or the studio, to say that line without laughing out loud...I was a bit apprehensive.
So let's fast-forward to this past Tuesday night/Wednesday morning...work was fine, I think maybe I tweaked my ankle on a step to the cellar...then woke up in sharp pain with my ankle rolled up in a bed sheet. By end of day, I could barely hobble around. By 1am, my ankle was a throbbing, useless stump upon which I could not stand.
So by the next evening, realizing that I would likely miss multiple, multiple shifts...maybe not have rent...I was a bit depressed. So, with trusty pooch by my side, I decided to rally, find the worst movie I could find and share it with you! And I found...sigh, FUCKING CLOWN.
So let's get to it. The basic premise is as follows: a kindly dad, hearing that the clown he hired(fuck you, dad) for his kid's birthday party, that the kid WANTED (fuck you, kid) had been double booked, and cancelled. First and foremost, THIS NEVER HAPPENS. Why?!? Because: what two sadistic fucks hire a clown for the same day anywhere where people have taste and brains!!! This is also a town which, Mom's drunk friend at a kids' party mentions, THERE'S A FUCKING CHUCK E. CHEESE NEARBY. Also, having been in a situation where strippers were overbooked, they just go to both, spend half the time there, and then leave, hoping to get paid the same amount. So there's that.
So Dad, a real estate agent, working in a house he's renovating for resale, finds a dubious box in the basement, which contains the weirdest looking clown costume of all time. So, why not use that? Thanks, God!!!
Then he can't get the thing off, it slowly turns him into a "CLOYNE", or a child-eating demon. And it's a suit made of demon skin, yaddayaddayadda, fill in the blanks, horrible death scenes, and movie!
So in the middle of this plot(ha) he finds the costumer who owned the suit, and goes to him for help. The guy (Peter Stormare)explains that the suit was part of an antiques purchase, was "perfect"when he saw it, until he realized it was made of demon skin. Then he tries to decapitate Clown Dad, as that's the only way to fix the curse now changing our hapless-at-everything victim/hero/clown.OR he can eat 5 kids. Sounds like a pretty easy decision to me, I live in Park Slope. Lots to go around.
So a few notes on scenes from the film:
- You learn that Stormare's character once donned the suit, and his brother saved him by feeding him(as Cloyne) 5 children. Then the suit melts off. So, if the suit melts off, how is there another suit later? And, he mentions that he didn't remember any of what happened, so how did he know? Did his sick fuck brother tell him? "hey, by the way, oh this is so silly, you're gonna laugh at this one: you turned into a demonic clown and I fed you 5 kids. Ok, peace!"
-Mom, tempted to save her husband(who has already eaten three nice kids, and one piece of shit kid), kidnaps a child, bringing the kid to a lake house. The cops show up, and seem to be arresting her. In a minute, she's driving home to save her son and her dad(spoiler alert: you know due to hints in the film that he's not gonna make it...because he's a dick). Do police not arrest kidnappers anymore? Isn't that kind of a big deal? How did that conversation go?
Officer: Ma'am, why did you abduct this child, take her to an abandoned lakehouse and lock her out of the car?
Mom: So my demon Cloyne husband could eat her, and turn human again.
Officer: Valid point, ma'am, our mistake. You're free to go. Good hunting.
-Stormare, while helping Mom find ClownDad, stumble upon a nice set of small bones. Stormare says, "These are the bones of an 8yr old." Jesus tittyfuck, creepiest old dude ever!!! How the fuck does he know THAT!!! Nope, too small for 9, too big for 7. What. The. Fuck.
-A big, crazy scene takes place in the aforementioned Check E. Cheese. Where they could have held their son's stupid birthday party. They deserve all of this.
-The creepy kid is waaaaay too obsessed with clowns, and isn't in the slightest afraid of his dad as a stupid clown-borg. This kid is fucked up.
This film surprised me. Even though Roth didn't write, direct, or star
in the film, it still filled me with dread and loathing for him. His
name often means suck sandwich, and even though he's barely a producer,
here it was in all it's trash glory. This wasn't a total waste of time,
as it slightly distracted me from throbbing excruciating ankle pain.
So see it, if you like child bones, plot holes, bad writing, and root for clowns to oppress mankind. Or rent Killer Klowns From Outer Space; it's a better film, trust me. And avoid all things Eli Roth, for everyone's sake.
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Monday, March 21, 2016
Gods of Egypt
Last Tuesday, Randall and I toyed with the idea of fulfilling a bad movie challenge several months old. I do want to get this out of the way:
a)Randall is not a figment of my imagination, hell-bent on causing me pain. He is, in fact, real.
b)I'm often the driving force behind the worst crap that we sit through. As Verbal once said, "The best trick the devil ever pulled was to convince the world he didn't exist." If you ever meet Randall, ask him whose fault Skyline was. (hint: IT WAS ME)
We had been putting off Gods of Egypt for a week and a half, until I received this awful news: Gods of Egypt, which cost nearly cost $200 million to make, was being pulled from theaters by week's end. To give you perspective: Battleship, one of the worst films ever slapped together, stayed in theaters with the hope that it could recoup some losses for almost a month. Feel free to check my archive for that piece of shit. I watched Battleship during Hurricane Sandy; madness followed.
Here's how our conversation evolved:
Me: Are we still seeing Gods of Egypt? I'm really tired, and am unsure I can sit through it.
Randall: Ok, we can try a different day. How long is it playing for.
Me: 9 more hours, unless you want to see it in...STATEN ISLAND...
Randall: OH GOD, NO! TODAY IT IS! TO HAPPY HOUR!!!
That's right: they couldn't even wait 3 days to launch this turdmuffin into the film afterlife.
Normally, 4 hours is enough time during Happy Hour to prepare a film goer with an open mind to see most any film. Like I, Frankenstein. Or even Skyline.Or Gigli.
There wasn't enough booze on the Earth to make Gods of Egypt into a coherent, enjoyable film. A woman yelled at us during the opening credits, "I WANT TO SEE THIS MOVIE!" I turned back 15 minutes later, and SHE had left. By a half-hour, everyone else had. In fact, as we exited the theater, speechless and in dismay, I couldn't recall having seen a single attendant.
The best way to describe Gods of Egypt, the film equivalent of the medical waste receptacles at Bellevue on a hot Saturday during a blackout, is as follows.You know when a 5 year old has a tragically intense fever dream during, oh let's say, scarlet fever. You have read him a story about Egypt, and he recites this nonsensical tale based around what you've just recited to him. You think, that's cute, if he survives this nightmare, at least he may be creative someday. Now put that fever dream inside a perfectly capable adult, and you scream, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING ABOMINATION?!? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB! " In fact, if you saw a ten year old drawing a still from any scene with crayon, you would take it away from him, send him to his room, grounded, and light it on fire. You might even light the house on fire.
That, my friends, is Gods of Egypt, the official worst film I have ever seen in a theater. It's given me at least one legit nightmare.
I won't spoil the whole story, but I'll give you this brief synopsis:
A) Gods are sort of immortal(?), and are about 10-11 feet tall. Like Shaq. Or like Jaws in Moonraker.
B) Set and Horus are uncle/nephew, who fight over Egypt once Set kills his brother Osiris.
C) in their initial fight, Set beats Horus, taking his eyes(made of crystal). He can no longer see(nope, he can kind of see), but more importantly, he can no longer change into a giant, metallic warbird. No, wait, HE CAN. Just kidding, everyone! So glad the entire fucking film is about retrieving his fucking eyes!
D) Think you've heard the worst?!? Ohhhh nooo. Swallow this fucknut! Ra, their grandpa, LIVES ON A SPACE STATION ABOVE THIS PLANET, WHICH HAS THE SUN ATTACHED TO IT WITH A GIANT CHAIN. NOW RETIRED FROM RULING EGYPT, HIS JOB IS TO, ONCE A DAY, FEND OFF A GIANT BLACK SPACE WORK MADE OF CLOUDS WITH HIS STAFF OF SUN BALLS.
E) The smartest god has his brain ripped from his head. Somehow, he is alive during the final celebratory sequence. I wish someone were there to rip out my brain.
Have you ever fallen off a bike, and hurt yourself so badly, that you can only laugh out loud, tears rippling down your cheeks while you wish for sweet death? Do that about 40 times. Add PTSD. You have now endured Gods of Egypt. If I ever meet Gerard Butler, I will politely punch him in his stupid Scottish(Egyptian)-accented fucking face, then demand our money back. At least when he gets up and murders me, I can hopefully not relive the horror of this film in some afterlife. In fact, I no longer hope for an afterlife, if only to negate the chance I'll continue to see flashbacks of this film in my mind's eye.
a)Randall is not a figment of my imagination, hell-bent on causing me pain. He is, in fact, real.
b)I'm often the driving force behind the worst crap that we sit through. As Verbal once said, "The best trick the devil ever pulled was to convince the world he didn't exist." If you ever meet Randall, ask him whose fault Skyline was. (hint: IT WAS ME)
We had been putting off Gods of Egypt for a week and a half, until I received this awful news: Gods of Egypt, which cost nearly cost $200 million to make, was being pulled from theaters by week's end. To give you perspective: Battleship, one of the worst films ever slapped together, stayed in theaters with the hope that it could recoup some losses for almost a month. Feel free to check my archive for that piece of shit. I watched Battleship during Hurricane Sandy; madness followed.
Here's how our conversation evolved:
Me: Are we still seeing Gods of Egypt? I'm really tired, and am unsure I can sit through it.
Randall: Ok, we can try a different day. How long is it playing for.
Me: 9 more hours, unless you want to see it in...STATEN ISLAND...
Randall: OH GOD, NO! TODAY IT IS! TO HAPPY HOUR!!!
That's right: they couldn't even wait 3 days to launch this turdmuffin into the film afterlife.
Normally, 4 hours is enough time during Happy Hour to prepare a film goer with an open mind to see most any film. Like I, Frankenstein. Or even Skyline.Or Gigli.
There wasn't enough booze on the Earth to make Gods of Egypt into a coherent, enjoyable film. A woman yelled at us during the opening credits, "I WANT TO SEE THIS MOVIE!" I turned back 15 minutes later, and SHE had left. By a half-hour, everyone else had. In fact, as we exited the theater, speechless and in dismay, I couldn't recall having seen a single attendant.
The best way to describe Gods of Egypt, the film equivalent of the medical waste receptacles at Bellevue on a hot Saturday during a blackout, is as follows.You know when a 5 year old has a tragically intense fever dream during, oh let's say, scarlet fever. You have read him a story about Egypt, and he recites this nonsensical tale based around what you've just recited to him. You think, that's cute, if he survives this nightmare, at least he may be creative someday. Now put that fever dream inside a perfectly capable adult, and you scream, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING ABOMINATION?!? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB! " In fact, if you saw a ten year old drawing a still from any scene with crayon, you would take it away from him, send him to his room, grounded, and light it on fire. You might even light the house on fire.
That, my friends, is Gods of Egypt, the official worst film I have ever seen in a theater. It's given me at least one legit nightmare.
I won't spoil the whole story, but I'll give you this brief synopsis:
A) Gods are sort of immortal(?), and are about 10-11 feet tall. Like Shaq. Or like Jaws in Moonraker.
B) Set and Horus are uncle/nephew, who fight over Egypt once Set kills his brother Osiris.
C) in their initial fight, Set beats Horus, taking his eyes(made of crystal). He can no longer see(nope, he can kind of see), but more importantly, he can no longer change into a giant, metallic warbird. No, wait, HE CAN. Just kidding, everyone! So glad the entire fucking film is about retrieving his fucking eyes!
D) Think you've heard the worst?!? Ohhhh nooo. Swallow this fucknut! Ra, their grandpa, LIVES ON A SPACE STATION ABOVE THIS PLANET, WHICH HAS THE SUN ATTACHED TO IT WITH A GIANT CHAIN. NOW RETIRED FROM RULING EGYPT, HIS JOB IS TO, ONCE A DAY, FEND OFF A GIANT BLACK SPACE WORK MADE OF CLOUDS WITH HIS STAFF OF SUN BALLS.
E) The smartest god has his brain ripped from his head. Somehow, he is alive during the final celebratory sequence. I wish someone were there to rip out my brain.
Have you ever fallen off a bike, and hurt yourself so badly, that you can only laugh out loud, tears rippling down your cheeks while you wish for sweet death? Do that about 40 times. Add PTSD. You have now endured Gods of Egypt. If I ever meet Gerard Butler, I will politely punch him in his stupid Scottish(Egyptian)-accented fucking face, then demand our money back. At least when he gets up and murders me, I can hopefully not relive the horror of this film in some afterlife. In fact, I no longer hope for an afterlife, if only to negate the chance I'll continue to see flashbacks of this film in my mind's eye.
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Unfriended
I was working at Barfly last night, talking to my buddy, Randall. I mentioned to him that I hadn't written my blog in a long time. Without skipping a beat, he exclaimed, "HAVE YOU WATCHED UNFRIENDED?!?" And with that one challenge, my blog has been reborn, like a phoenix made of trash, renewed through a dumpster fire.
So I watched Unfriended, mostly so you wouldn't have to suffer through an hour and a half, watching 6 young actors remind us as to why we're doomed as a species. The basic plot is this: watch a vengeful ghost torture and kill her asshole friends via Skype, who may have posted an embarassing video which lead to her suicide the year prior. Simple enough, right? Oh, no. Not even close. Don't misconstrue this as an opaque way to laud this heap of burnt hair as cinematic gold. Here's some quick tidbits:
- The friends all may have a hand in the one girl's suicide, as they filmed her passing out at a kegger and crapping her pantaloons. I'm already charmed by these pricks, so I will definitely root for them. Those are lies; Team ghost ON FLEEK! Oh, holy crap. why would I say that...
- The action takes place while all 6 friends are Skype-ing each other, as they often do? I frequently make lighthearted fun of millennials and younger for their inability to speak to each other in person, so this type of group interaction is welcome as a prom birth for me. Increased hatred: check!
- The ghost joins in on ghoul Skype to turn them slowly against each other, of course possessing them one at a time(!), all the while ferreting out whoever posted the video online. Somehow...because science. These sewer rats must attend Fuckface High in Dickhead, Bumblefuck; they are the worst children of the worst parents in modern times (who should be publicly shamed in some old-timey town square event complete with ye ol' stone throw).
- Oh, did it need to be said that they've all been fucking each other and their boyfriends and girlfriends, and now they're all mad and sad and wishing each other dead? Oh no, how could they?!? In high school?!? IN AMERICA?!? Sigh. Oh, except for the fat kid. He just knows computers. A firewall seals his demise. I mean it. That's his only crime. I mean, that and being a creepy basement-dweller stereotype. And I think he laughed at her once...because she shit her pants at a party, which may or may not be kinda funny. Just sayin'. No reason to possess a body and stick some hands in a blender. Poor fat kid.
- Did I mention the ghost was, prior to suicide, a living, breathing piece of human garbage as well? Yep. Before passing out, she attacks people, cursing and screaming at them. That explains their friendships!
I had very low expectations for this film, and they were met with glaring ease. MTV produced it, so it wasn't geared toward me, but to a teen audience? Does MTV think all their current young adult fans are mouth-breathing assholes? Did someone, somewhere, while writing this abomination, smirk and say aloud, "This is really going to reach young people!" I hope not. That's fear talking. They're voting age this year; a full onslaught of idiots who like that Trump tells it like it is, and think scissoring is real. View at the risk of existential dread, folks. We're doomed.
http://giphy.com/gifs/unfriended-scary-4deSYPz0dJPPO
So I watched Unfriended, mostly so you wouldn't have to suffer through an hour and a half, watching 6 young actors remind us as to why we're doomed as a species. The basic plot is this: watch a vengeful ghost torture and kill her asshole friends via Skype, who may have posted an embarassing video which lead to her suicide the year prior. Simple enough, right? Oh, no. Not even close. Don't misconstrue this as an opaque way to laud this heap of burnt hair as cinematic gold. Here's some quick tidbits:
- The friends all may have a hand in the one girl's suicide, as they filmed her passing out at a kegger and crapping her pantaloons. I'm already charmed by these pricks, so I will definitely root for them. Those are lies; Team ghost ON FLEEK! Oh, holy crap. why would I say that...
- The action takes place while all 6 friends are Skype-ing each other, as they often do? I frequently make lighthearted fun of millennials and younger for their inability to speak to each other in person, so this type of group interaction is welcome as a prom birth for me. Increased hatred: check!
- The ghost joins in on ghoul Skype to turn them slowly against each other, of course possessing them one at a time(!), all the while ferreting out whoever posted the video online. Somehow...because science. These sewer rats must attend Fuckface High in Dickhead, Bumblefuck; they are the worst children of the worst parents in modern times (who should be publicly shamed in some old-timey town square event complete with ye ol' stone throw).
- Oh, did it need to be said that they've all been fucking each other and their boyfriends and girlfriends, and now they're all mad and sad and wishing each other dead? Oh no, how could they?!? In high school?!? IN AMERICA?!? Sigh. Oh, except for the fat kid. He just knows computers. A firewall seals his demise. I mean it. That's his only crime. I mean, that and being a creepy basement-dweller stereotype. And I think he laughed at her once...because she shit her pants at a party, which may or may not be kinda funny. Just sayin'. No reason to possess a body and stick some hands in a blender. Poor fat kid.
- Did I mention the ghost was, prior to suicide, a living, breathing piece of human garbage as well? Yep. Before passing out, she attacks people, cursing and screaming at them. That explains their friendships!
I had very low expectations for this film, and they were met with glaring ease. MTV produced it, so it wasn't geared toward me, but to a teen audience? Does MTV think all their current young adult fans are mouth-breathing assholes? Did someone, somewhere, while writing this abomination, smirk and say aloud, "This is really going to reach young people!" I hope not. That's fear talking. They're voting age this year; a full onslaught of idiots who like that Trump tells it like it is, and think scissoring is real. View at the risk of existential dread, folks. We're doomed.
http://giphy.com/gifs/unfriended-scary-4deSYPz0dJPPO
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