I know some of you are very disappointed right now. Who the hell is that nubile young thing? I was promised pics of Betty White, dammit! How am I supposed to whip up a tasty batch of knuckle butter to that?
Calm down, sir, I share your pain. I didn’t even know they made naked women in the 40′s. Obviously it is something that took a while to perfect.
More importantly, how did we not know about this until know? Over 50 years in the game and Ms. White still knows how to surprise us. That’s an actress who knows the meaning of the word relevant. You young sluts better recognize.
Are you fucking shitting me? A movie based on an Angels and Airwaves album?!?!? Is Hollywood really that bereft of ideas? Is this the end of the world?
According to the movie, yes. Love is the story of a lone astronaut stranded on a space station who witnesses the earth’s demise. Then he goes through a wormhole and sees God. Because God is love, get it? (*Ducks the two-by-four of obviousness.)
These scenes are intercut with those of major historical events, most of which are wars, including our very own Civil. I guess that makes this a fucking Civil War reenactment movie as well (nerd alert!) Expect lots of beards and lots of slow-mo in this cumbersome treatise on humanity.
Visually, the film looks amazing. It’s kinda hard to fuck up the grandiosity of space. Of course, any contemplative film set in space owes a great debt to Solaris and 2001, both of which are echoed here. The downside to that is William Eubank is no Kubrick. He’s yet another flashy commercial director who thinks he can tell a story about life, the universe, and everything just as good as the masters.
Well color me surprised, he actually comes close. There’s nothing incredibly new about Love, but Eubank manages to give us 90 minutes of semi-intelligent eye candy. Unfortunately, the film is “driven by the powerful music of Angels and Airwaves” (the band’s words, not mine.) So all Eubank’s hard work is shot to shit. The score (and I use the term loosely, because for all I know these are just A&A instrumentals thrown over the film) is so over the top and so earnest, any inkling of narrative subtlety is raped with a knife. My heart is filled with emotion to the point of bursting! I weep gigantic, salty tears for the whole of humanity! The bass makes my balls tingle!
Thank your maker of choice that there’s none of Delonge’s patented nasally whine to accompany this symphony of melodrama. Can you imagine his bratty snarl reverberating throughout space? God would be so pissed! It still blows my mind that the guy from Blink 182 thinks he can actually sing. It’s like when a dog thinks he’s people.
Where does that leave us? There’s a good film fighting to get out here, it’s just being smothered to death by the pillow of Tom Delonge’s ego. Love is perty to look at, but the score assaults the ear canal like that bug in The Wrath of Khan. I’d recommend it to adventurous cineastes, die-hard Angels and Airwaves fans, and possibly the deaf.
Personally, I don’t think Skins comes remotely close to the legal definition of child pornography (based on all the Films I’ve Seen That Contain Underage Nudity.) I also don’t think it should be canceled because of the whinging of a bunch of outraged puritans. I think it should be canceled because it looks like a shitty show! Every time I see the ad on the subway, I want to punch every one of those kids in the face. Except the blond girl on the bottom right. I want to punch her in the back of the throat with my cock. If not her, then the cute little Paki right above her (that’s what they call them in the UK, right?)
All the skins I’ve been in I gets no frown
As far as I’m concerned, Skins and all other TV remakes like The Office can go fuck off back across the pond where they were better in the first place. But if you want to ogle some sexy pics of the promiscuous kids in question, check out this fair and balanced, totally NOT sensational photo gallery over at cbs.com.
She’s also taken her love of creepy-old-man-dressed-in-kiddie-pajama-sex a little too far, and I approve. I want to be that old man when I grow up. He was cast as God in one of Elle’s short films and got the added bonus of posing for erotic photos with nubile young nudies. Supposedly these images were inspired by the crazy sexual dreams of Elle’s youth, which would make her one freaky little girl.
Carl Oldy Olson shuffles off this mortal coil with a smile
But let’s backtrack. Who exactly is Elle Muliarchyk? Born in Belarus, the fashion model turned photographer is famous for taking guerrilla style portraits of herself trying on clothes in high-end boutiques. She also makes a damn good nudie video. Her most recent endeavors include sneaking into churches and dressing statues in haute coture, as well as sending models in disguise to get their fortunes read. Even without bestiality and naked chicks, her work is pretty damn cool…
Thanks to The Tall Ry of legendary NY outfit K-Fag for the heads.
Stumbling like a cyber-drunk around the nerdosphere, I recently discovered a cool little blog called The Trailer Trashers. They had a pretty inspired format wherein they reviewed the promotional trailers of upcoming films to determine how likely they were to see said films upon release. Unfortunately, by my next visit they had already abandoned that approach and were reviewing films that hadn’t even started shooting (which is still pretty cool.) So I decided to combine/steal their ideas and start reviewing films I hadn’t seen based solely on their trailers.
Then I realized, wait a minute, I was doing that shit back in 2007! For all I know, they could have stolen that idea from me! Maybe that’s why I liked the format so much. Either way, I’m heralding the return of the prophetic film review here at the jabber. With the trailer as my crystal ball, I shall gaze into the future and judge a film’s cinematic worth. If I actually wind up seeing a film I “review,” I’ll revisit that review in an effort to gauge the accuracy of my prognostication. My past predictions has been eerily prescient, so I’m quite confident in my abilities.
So without further ado, I present our inaugural return review- Park Chan-wook’s short film, Night Fishing, which was shot completely on the Apple iPhone. BOOSH!
Night Fishing (Paranmanjang) is a fun little flick, combining a traditional Korean ghost story with the expressionistic aesthetic of Canada’s Guy Maddin. The film is decidedly lacking in both sissy boys and slap parties, but it does deliver in the befuddled-Asian-guy-confronts-spirits department.
Not only that, the film itself is actually a long-form phone commercial, and is rife with telecommunications subtext. It is a amalgam of high-tech and low-fi with a dash of east-meets-west cultural relativism thrown in for good measure. Frankly, it’s a funny way to sell phones, but is a welcome addition to the cinematic canon from one of fandom’s most beloved directors.
Martin Luther King Jr. was a whore-beating, speech plagiarizing sonofabitch with a secret identity and ties to the communist party- at least according to an anonymous email circulated back in 2003. Surprised? Don’t be. You know your racist white granny sent you that shit dozens of times before she moved on to the one about Barack Obama being the Antichrist.
According to the mythbusters over at Snopes, the info in that email runs the gamut from malicious half-truth to full-on fabrication. Personally, I’m a little disappointed MLK didn’t use church money to have drunken sex parties with white hookers. It would have made him so much more relatable. At least we know he liked to get his extra-marital bang on, as corroborated by the private audio tapes of J. Edgar Hoover. Listening to alleged communists have sex is what got that kinky audio voyeur OFF!
This may seem like a strange way to celebrate such a great man, but let’s remember, that’s exactly what he was- a man. And like most men, he probably craved strange like Ted Nugent on speed. I can see him now, frothing at the mouth, screaming “Wango Tango!” and shaking his dick at anything in a skirt. Ted Nugent, that is, not MLK. I suspect The King had more of a Barry White vibe. The point is, you’ve got to humanize your heroes, people, not deify them. They’re just like you and me. Unlike celebrities, who are better than us all.
And that’s all I really have to say on the matter.
In regards to the literary source material, you can find my thoughts on the Millennium Trilogy HERE. To the angry mob decrying yet another American remake of a successful foreign film I say- have faith in The Fincher. Since The Social Network, the man can do no wrong in my eyes. Sure, he did wrong previously- it was called Benjamin Button- but the past is in the past. Fincher is the perfect choice to address the flaws inherent in the original film.
That’s right, I said flaws. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is basically a book about a guy doing research, and the Swedish film isn’t 100% successful in translating that in an engaging fashion. What makes me think Fincher can do a better job? Only a little film called Zodiac. That movie is three hours of Jake Gyllenhaal looking through books and it is riveting.
Then there is the matter of the ending. Recent reports indicate screenwriter Steve Zaillian has done a complete overhaul on it, which is a plus in my book. A plus, I tells ya! The ending of the novel was kinda… yeah, it needed some work.
My only fear is whether Mara is up to the task of embodying the character of Lisbeth Salander. Noomi Rapace owns in the original, and her performance is going to be a tough act to follow. But if these pictures are any indication, there’s a good chance she’s gonna pull it off.
Pull it off, get it?
And that brings us full circle to my sexual fantasies concerning punk rock Rooney Mara. Goodnight, everybody!
Brett and Brandi Favre were tighter than your average brother and sister. In fact, you could say that they were tighter than Heidi the cross-eyed opossum’s ah-noose. This was something that always worried their poor mother, but Papa Favre was of the opinion that it was better to keep it in the family.
Whilst perusing their horoscopes one day, they were shocked to find the inclusion of a new astrological sign called Ophiuchus. “That’s bullshit,” said Brett. He immediately called his friend Skeet Ulrich, who was having a hard time getting work and spent most of his day on the internet. He told Brett that not since he was a young pledge at Delta Sigma Theta and was made to dress up like Trudy Styler and read The Catcher in the Rye out loud while a frat brother violated him dressed as Peter Fonda from Easy Rider had he been so disturbed.
Meanwhile, across town, Michelle Bombshell McGee was engaged in a threesome with Rooney Mara and Ted Williams. President Obama’s Tuscon speech was on in the background, which spooked Williams. He made the excuse that he was late for rehab and got the hell out of there. The mood was killed so the ladies decided to pick up Pat Shurmur and catch the NAMM show instead. But because of all the WPXI school closings the kids were out in full force and show attendance was already at capacity. The End.
Oh, yeah- Sparkfun, Mount Etna and Gucci Mane ice cream tattoo, too. Andrew Garfield Spiderman costume. Suckers.
You got your science in my religion! You got your religion in my science! Wait a minute… this is delicious!!! Stephen Jay Gould had it all wrong. The idea that science and religion are two monarchs presiding over completely different kingdoms is preposterous. They are more like conjoined twins, separated at birth, who are incomplete without each other.
Because not only is The Bible a handy book of rules by which to live your life and tell your neighbor how he should live his, it is a scientific text that rivals the whole of modern academic knowledge!
Not convinced? Have you read a little pamphlet called, Dinosaurs and The Bible? It sheds some serious light on the historical context of giant reptiles and exposes the errors in evolutionary thinking.
To all evolutionists out there I say, were you there? No, but God was, and he dictated the events of The Book of Genesis to that Moses guy, so we can infer from vague, later passages in The Bible that a pair of T Rex were on that giant boat Noah built. (I don’t think Phil Collins had anything to do with it, but I could be mistaken.) Feeble attempts such as THIS, which utilize basic common sense and rudimentary scientific knowledge to prove their point shall be summarily dismissed.
Because let’s be honest- the inclusion of a bad-ass dino-riding savior would make church way more interesting. I think it also opens the door for the possibility of dinosaurs interacting with other famous historical figures, like Hitler and Abraham Lincoln.
This may be the first FISTCUN (I so want to add a T to that!) I’ve covered that isn’t, for lack of a better word… sexy. The reason for this is two-fold. One- Anais Reboux is not the most comely of beasts. The 14 year old (at the time) Frumpalupagus might have done well to keep her clothes on, but she was plucked off the street and “coaxed” into brandishing her body-buds by controversial auteur Cathy B. The poor girl never acted again. Shocker.
And two- seeing a 12 year old girl raped by the man who just killed her mother and sister isn’t exactly erotic. Quite frankly, it’s a bit of a downer. To make matters worse, she tells the police that the sex was consensual. Not sure I get her reasoning. Something about wanting the man who took her virginity to be a “nobody.” Maybe I just don’t understand women.
Thankfully, the film also stars Roxane Mesquida, whose depiction of the hotter, (not much) older sister who experiments with anal sex while Anais is in the room makes the film watchable. Now that’s what I call cinema. Do yourself a favor and also check out Roxane’s bravura three-way performance in Sheitan, one of the best horror flicks of the aughts.
