skot AT izzlepfaff DOT com
Tuesday, 14 October
Because of extremely favorable economic conditions as of late, the wife and I leave for France in a week and a half! We're looking forward to missing this oncoming shoulder season that Hollywood has planned in favor of staring dully at euros flying out of our pockets and doing hasty back-of-the-envelope-if-we-can-afford-envelopes equations to determine how much debt we're racking up. Whee!
In other words, it's high time I prejudged a bunch of what you suckers will be watching while we empty our pockets at some of Avignon's finest couple-friendly brothels.
NOBODY TOLD ME THAT COSTAS MANDYLOR WAS PART OF THIS FRANCHISE! I gave up on this repellent series right after Saw II--which I think we watched in the same month that we endured the cheerless moral vacancy that was Hostel--for the usual reasons. There's no reason I'm going to put up with this fucking shit. It's the Faces of Death of this goddamn decade, and I'd sooner gnaw on live rats than . . . no, scratch that. I have more respect for rats than I do for the ghastly bastards that churn out this horrid garbage. So I'd sooner gnaw on the filmmakers.
That said, Costas Mandylor! He was on "Picket Fences"! Remember? Does Tobin Bell repeatedly shove glass rods up his urethra? I might have to reexamine my position on these films. Mainly because I seriously enjoy typing "Costas Mandylor."
I think we can all agree that Oliver Stone, as filmmaker qua filmmaker, is primarily noted for his nuanced point of view and his easy touch as a humorist. It's ginger, light-hearted movies such as Platoon, Natural Born Killers and JFK that have ensured his legacy as the rightful heir to, say, Woody Allen and Billy Wilder. So it should come as no surprise that . . . listen, I can't even finish this sentence at all.
Stone is not entirely without gifts; he can fashion a fairly harrowing scene when moved to, and he has an occasionally interesting eye when it comes to framing. Unfortunately, he is also frothingly insane. The idea of him crafting some foamy comedy about our (also unfathomably demented) president is roughly along the same lines as assigning Costa-Gravas directorship of the next American Pie sequel.
(Now, horribly, I'm imagining some debased blowjob scene where Sally Field is going down on Jason Biggs. I hate myself.)
It's The Happening meets Constantine meets Hitman!! What on earth could possibly be better than that? IT HAS BEAU BRIDGES IN IT! Granted, he's no Costas Mandylor, but who is? I mean, other than Costas Mandylor.
It also has Ludacris and Chris O'Donnell and Donal Logue!
Seriously, do you think the casting directors all got together over an apple pipe in some back room and went, "You're kidding. They bought that?"
(BONUS DVD RENTAL NOTE: The wife and I genuinely enjoyed Hitman. We consider it the finest video-game movie adaptation to feature Timothy Olyphant and digitized pubic hair released to date.)
The Secret Life of Bees
Cast list includes:
UNCOMFORTABLE! Too many black people. Also, bees.
Upon further review:
Well, that's certainly adding some cream to the coffee. Listen, are there any robots in this?
Astonishingly, Judd Apatow does not appear to be connected to this film. Disappointingly, neither does Costas Mandylor.
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I always appreciate an entry of yours that needs at least two Google searches to get the entire joke.
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