Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Yes, Yes, We Know Her Name.

I'm sure that all of you are deeply aware of my abject adoration of Stephen King's Carrie by now.  If you don't, I don't even KNOW you anymore.


So, I was pretty darn glad to hear that they were doing a big-screen remake of Carrie because, frankly, while the story itself is relatively timeless, the telling of it did need some updating because there are a WHOLE lot more issues that can be covered in the age of Facebook and YouTube.

That being said, the shower scene, while still allowing the pervs in the audience yet another illicit glimpse of underage skin, was still traumatizing and gave us the added edge of Chris Hargensen catching the whole thing on her cell phone and posting it on the internet.  Adding that extra edge of bullying makes it that much more appropriate for today's audience.

Y'all are bitches for realsies.
The rest of the movie, though?  It's good but not game-changing.  Carrie is still dealing with her freak-ass mother (played in a drunken haze by Julianne Moore), Carrie is still timid and shy and, seriously, I'd be timid, too, if I went through my whole life being hated for, basically, nothing.  Carrie is still pitied by Sue Snell and she still goes the prom with Sue's boyfriend.

I hate to say "ho-hum" here but, well, if it quacks like a duck...

No, honey.  Momma's not gonna share her bourbon.

For fuck's sake, can we take the story of a telekinetic teenager seriously?  She has the power to destroy the world one gas station at a time and we get THIS?  I don't hate this movie but I really don't think director Kimberly Pierce went as far over the line as she could have.  Add to that the utter CGI-ness of this remake just makes me say that this is OK but watch the original.  The original is FAR superior to this one.  Even the TV remake had more to it than this version.

FEAR my CGI eyeballs!
 About the only thing they put in this one that makes anyone think is the opening scene where Mrs. White is contemplating murdering the sweet little baby that just made her think she was passing a tumor through her happy hole.  Even her escape from the closet was half-assed.   The destruction of the prom was OK but the destruction of the town was completely missing when it really should have exploded all over the screen.  Her revenge on Chris was adequate instead of over the top.

This is not to say that Chloe Grace Moretz' performance was bad.  In fact it was quite good.  Her willingness to move and twist her body like a monster when she, ultimately, is turned into one was truly appreciated.  Other than that, I will not say to skip this because by itself it is a good movie and if the story had not been put to celluloid before it would be perfectly adequate but this deserves a comparison to the original.

Monday, January 13, 2014

Sex: You're Doing It Wrong.

Oh, IFC Midnight.  What have you done? 

You've RUINED SEX FOREVER, that's what you've done.  Only not really because I'm actually able to actually separate reality from fiction.






So, in the worst case of independent film slut-shaming, EVER, Contracted tells us the story of a young lesbian who grows orchids in her closet (badly) and has recently come to terms that she's a lesbian (also, badly) who is living with her mother (once again, badly) and has recently kicked a drug habit (need I repeat it?).  She manages to get her dumb ass roofied at a party by a dude who's SO fuckin' skeevy that they blur out his face.  Way to earn your SAG card.

DON'T DRI... too late.
She proceeds to both physically and mentally break down.

Like... fast.  Like the course of the movie lasts 3 days, fast.  Like she has maggots falling out of her cooch mid-hangover.  MAGGOTS from her COOCH.  You would think that the black veins and profuse bleeding from the crotch when it's not time for her period and, since she takes the time to sniff it, the horrific odor, would clue her AND HER DOCTOR (whom she goes to see TWICE) that something is monumentally fucking wrong with her vagina but since she couldn't bother to notice the MAGGOTS, I'm thinking that she is probably too stupid to own a vagina.

Wrong orifice, dickhole.
And the people around her are fucking morons.  Her mother?  Probably should have noticed the bloody puke and her daughter passed out by the toilet, once again, pouring blood by the pint out of her snatch.  Her punk-Barbie "girlfriend"?  Should probably ACTUALLY TELL HER SHE'S BREAKING UP WITH HER before slamming the door in her face.  Her alcohol-fueled bestie with unrequited love issues?  Maybe should have NOT IGNORED THE MASSIVE HERPETIC SORES before planting a sloppy one on her.  Her psuedo-stalker guy who's wanted to do her forever?  Also ignores the grossness when he officially and literally sticks it in the crazy.

The horrible is on the other side.
To be honest, this is actually a relatively well-made movie with some kind of fantastic make-up effects and decent acting but I can't say I enjoyed watching it.  Aside from the stupidity, I really did feel like this film was anti-gay and anti-sex.  It was legitimately "slut-shaming" and I can't hold with that at all.  It was a slap in the face to women, to lesbians and to people with healthy sex lives.  As a film, OK.  As a social message?  Shameful.

Skip it.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Return of the Bride of the Son of...

HOLY FUCKBALLS, I'M BACK!!

My children, I have return-eth-ed to you.  To snark your eyeballs into oblivion and annoy your parents.  To make children skip in the streets and to make directors cry and hang themselves.  To ignore my own aching brain to provide YOU.  Yes, you.  With comedic splendors.

And obscenities.

'Cause that's how I roll.

So, yeah.  Let's talk about Insidious, shall we?





Can we talk about how this is quite possibly the worst "haunting" movie I have ever seen?  Can we talk about how Patrick Wilson will never, ever win any kind of award other then a Golden Raspberry?  Can we talk about how Universal Studios theme parks have lost a modicum of allure from me because they embraced this shitpile?  Can we talk about how James Wan and Leigh Whannell need to be eaten slowly by kittens? 

SURE we can.

Plot:  House is haunted.  Turns out house is not haunted.  Kid is haunted.  Turns out kid is not haunted.  Dad is haunted.  Creepy old lady ghost that looks entirely too much like the awesome ghost from Dead Silence only wearing enough black tulle to gag a drag queen wants to be all "breathing" again.
It's called "foundation".  Invest.
Magic "cougar" that knows how all this went down shows up to help.  Shit goes to... well, not Hell.  Hell would be scary.  Grandma is worried.

OH!  And we're totally gonna talk about Insidious Chapter 2, too.  Because that shit is packed with more cheese than a Wisconsin colon.

OH NOES!  LET'S THREATEN A BABY!  And then go nowhere with that.
Fuck me, this was painful.  I suppose the only reason I made it through was because it was 4 in the morning and there was nothing but infomercials on and I needed SOMETHING to do.  GUESS WHAT, KIDS!  Same fuckin' plot except the magic cougar gets all dead and shit.  Woo.  And, then we have the OTHER ghost that possesses Patrick Wilson and makes him all murder-y in the blandest way possible (as in he never actually kills anyone) by a dude whose mom (previously mentioned tulle-enrobed psycho-biddy) raised him to be a little girl.  Someone's fuckin' bitter.

Yeah.  Not a hugger, I'm guessin'.
Also?  Who the fuck names their kid "Dalton"?  That's a wedgie-name, right there.  It's like they WANT him to grow up to be a male stripper.  'Cause, seriously, banana-bouncers are the only people I know that have that name. Then again, I don't know that many Daltons.  I'm not sure I want to.  The name wants me to bully them and I'd feel bad.

Grandma is still worried.  

PABLUM!  THESE MOVIES ARE FUCKING PABLUM!

Pablum: Bland, mushy, unappetizing and infantile.  Much like a Disney Channel sitcom.  Except Disney Channel sitcoms are oddly charming.

I like Mighty Med.  Sue me.

What the fuck, Hollywood.  Are you SO driven to pander to the lowest common denominator that you can't actually recognize that a horror movie isn't scary?  Or intelligent?  Or watchable?  Damn, son, My Little Pony is scarier than this shit.

Seriously.  Find and read the MLP fanfic "Cupcakes".  Pinky-Pie is fuckin' psycho.
I'd ask why I bother with modern horror movies but they inspire me.  They inspire me to find new and interesting ways to describe the multitude of ways that the moronic tard-monkeys that make these movies should DIE IN A FIRE.  Fuckin' Hell, Hollywood.  You will SANITIZE MY CREVASSE AND LIKE IT!!

So, yeah.  If anyone can make all extant copies of either of these movies disappear, there may be sexual favors involved.  Just sayin'.