tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59026353731200162772024-02-21T06:43:56.351-08:00MOVIEJIVEgaryjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-25600409658623346772013-01-25T13:21:00.001-08:002013-01-25T13:22:40.798-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 10: MAD MAX - BEYOND THUNDERDOME<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVztLffKzw2cxr_llyBHElTjVCJ2o4Gs0yCDtKAVikjMogeEuJEXnqalVPmsW8f5btG1SgXcju_2rcUaMxK_3ZvVD81AM-CJmszFL78KHkd1xk76tErLjiZHw0FBUFrpDW3Pv9iqGirM4/s1600/thunderdome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVztLffKzw2cxr_llyBHElTjVCJ2o4Gs0yCDtKAVikjMogeEuJEXnqalVPmsW8f5btG1SgXcju_2rcUaMxK_3ZvVD81AM-CJmszFL78KHkd1xk76tErLjiZHw0FBUFrpDW3Pv9iqGirM4/s1600/thunderdome.jpg" /></a></div>
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Swaggering through a post-apocalyptic Aussie outback future
where very little remains but desert and everyone dresses like a spiky-haired,
over-accessorised 80s punk, Mel Gibson returns as hard-as-granite rebel Mad Max
Rockatansky, and he’s pissed. Gibson is on fine form as the grizzled, heroic lawman
who wanders the outback, scavenging for survival, righting wrongs and skelping
bad guys in the face. Looking slightly fruitier with long hair and a flowing
tunic, Mad Mel is, thankfully, still a reliably gritty and intimidating
presence, more than capable of equalising entire units of fearsome cyber-punks
with little more than some badass attitude and his wily wits. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the third
instalment of George Miller’s classic Road Warrior series set in a world where,
due to energy shortages, society has broken down and lawlessness is rife, someone
has pinched Max’s automobile, so he sets off to settle the score. Arriving at
the intimidating, seedy desert outpost of Bartertown, ruled over by the
sadistic Aunty Entity (Tina Turner!), Max wastes no time making his presence
felt. When he’s stopped and threatened by some scary blokes with swords, Max
whips out a Big Fucking Gun (B.F.G.) and shoots the hair clean off one guy’s
head, just to show he’s not messing around. He explains he’s looking for
something someone owes him and he ain’t leaving til this shit gets sorted out. When he’s told that he can’t go any further
until he surrenders his weapns at the door, Max cheekily produces an entire
arsenal from under his cloak: crossbows, knives, guns, the <i>lot</i>. It’s a hilarious scene and sums up this man’s headspace: he <i>lives</i> for war.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Upon hearing of his
potential as an enterprising whupper-of-ass, Aunty swiftly strikes a deal with
Max, promising to help him if he agrees to provoke a fight with the diminutive
Master, who controls the town’s energy resources and challenges her leadership.
In Bartertown, electricity, vehicles, functioning technology are made possible
by a crude methane refinery, fuelled, quite wonderfully, by pig pooh. Master,
carried around by his massive, masked bodyguard, known as Blaster, has started
getting cocky, putting embargoes in place that are starting to make Aunty look
daft, so she wants Max to challenge him to a fight in the Thunderdome, a
terrifying colosseum where feuds are settled mano-a-mano. Max thinks ‘why the
hell not?’ He loves a good fight. As if to prove this point, he passes his ‘audition’
by seriously maiming three of Aunty’s warrior goons. Fair dinkum!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Going undercover to
size up his opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, Max takes up a highly
unenviable job shovelling pig shit in the underworld, where he discovers that Master
Blaster is the one who has taken possession of his vehicle. Master also turns
out to be a right cocky little bugger who likes bullying his workers and
shouting grans statements like ‘Me run Bartertown!!!’ Max cuts the jerk down to
size by saying, ‘Sure, that’s why you live in <i>shit!’</i> but has to bide his time, when all he really wants to do is
slit the guy’s throat. Eventually he realises that big lug Blaster (who wears a
ridiculous helmet that looks like a bin) is susceptible to high pitched sounds
and figures this is his chance to beat the guy, so he seizes his chance and challenges
him to a fight in Thunderdome where, as the locals never tire of chanting, ‘two
men enter, one man leaves.’ Nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Thunderdome is a
deliciously savage creation, a massive dome-shaped cage filled with spikes,
booby-traps and what-have-you, where both combatants are strapped to massive
stretchy bungee cords and forced to do battle with whatever weapons the
onlookers throw to them, whilst athletically bouncing around like acrobats.
Upon entering, one wild-eyed spectator tells Max, ‘I know you won’t break any
rules – there aren’t any!’ Though I guess this isn’t strictly true, as the
whole crowd continue to chant the whole ‘two men enter…’ mantra. Silly bugger!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Still, the battle is
immense, with Max somersaulting all over the place, trying to outwit the human
juggernaut as they go at each other with everything from spears to chainsaws. Our
hero, armed with a whistle that he hopes to use to deafen his adversary, ends
up taking a hell of a beating and drops his secret weapon. Bruised and
battered, he resorts to Plan B: kicking Blaster’s head in. Displaying
athleticism worthy of the most spry, wiry jungle monkey, Max outwits his
opponent and eventually gets the better of him, knocking off his helmet and
deafening him with the now retrieved whistle, before doing him in with a
massive hammer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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However, just as he
is about to deliver the killing blow, Max realises that his opponent is actually
mentally-handicapped and refuses to kill him. It is a cracking display of
compassion and even as the crowd chant for Max to finish him, he refuses – this
was not part of the deal. As he stands down, Aunty’s goons step in and finish
the job with a crossbow, leading one to wonder why they didn’t just do that in
the first place. Max is made to pay for being such an honourable and just dude
in these times of lawlessness, as Aunty banishes him from town, tying him to a
horse and sending him out to the desert to die.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Luckily, Max is a
clever bugger and sneakily attaches a gourd of water to a monkey and sends it
out into the desert for him to find later, just <i>before</i> he is banished. Smart! However, this only gets our hero so
far and eventually he succumbs to the harsh desert heat. Staring death in the
face, Max thinks his number is up, before he is rescued by Savannah (Helen
Buday), leader of a bunch of desert-dwelling kids who have formed their own
tribal community, like a futuristic version of Peter Pan’s Lost Boys.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After getting a
much-needed haircut, Max is back to his sleek, short-haired best and accepted
as the saviour of this gang of savage-but-innocent urchins who speak their own
muddled up language and are convinced that he has come to lead them back to what
they quite irritatingly call ‘Tomorrow-morrow Land.’ Max tries to convince them
that they’re better off where they are, and he’s not far wrong, as their little
forest community is the closest the Mad Max franchise has ever got to paradise.
Max, as always, is looking after the best interests of the innocent and knows
that the nearest township is Bartertown – a horrible, unforgiving sleaze-pit
that will surely chew them up and spit them out. <o:p></o:p></div>
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However, the Savannah
sees his coming as a sign and is determined to leave anyway, so when Max tries
to stop her, some of the young ones rise up and attack him with spears. Of
course, a bunch of kids is no match for
The Road Warrior, who shows he’s not to be messed with by punching Savannah,
knocking her out for her own good. Despite his efforts, the rebels set off
anyway, forcing Max to chase after them and show off his hero credentials by
rescuing them from killer quicksand.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lost in the desert
and conceding that heading to Bartertown might now be their only hope for
survival, Max leads the kids back for a final face-off against Aunty’s evil
empire. Using the kids to help sneak back into the methane refinery, Max starts
a revolution by blowing the place to smithereens, taking half the town with it,
before whizzing off in liberated car-cum-train vehicle thingamajig. At long
last, the sort of high speed vehicular battle that made the series famous
ensues and it is well worth the wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A squadron of
baddies give chase in a fleet of amazing, souped-up off-road cars and
monster-trucks, giving Max and his new pals the opportunity to off them in a
variety of thrilling ways. Max shows off his superior driving skills by leaping
from car to car and battering the drivers, not pausing for a moment’s breath.
It is a great sequence with some amazing stunt work: Mad Max at his best. Stunt
drivers clearly earned their wages on this one, as cars dangerously swerve
across rail tracks and off cliffs as the baddies do all they can to get
revenge.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Eventually
commandeering a small plane to assist their escape, the gang realise that they
are carrying too much weight to take off. Max, heroic as ever, gets off the
plane, sacrificing himself to ensure these kids a better future than the one
offered by aunty and her wretched disciples. He bravely drives a truck straight
at the convoy of pursuing villains in order to clear a path for his new pals to
take off, hence saving the day. Max displays such bravery that, catching up,
aunty decides to just spare him and drives off, laughing. That is seriously
cool: here’s a guy that is so courageous, the villain just lets him go out of
respect for the size of his balls.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What a Hard Bastard!<o:p></o:p></div>
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THE RATINGS:<o:p></o:p></div>
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INDESTRUCTIBILTY: 6/10 – Battles armies of tooled-up
future-punks and rarely looks ruffled, though does depend on a <i>whistle</i> to save his bacon. A close
shave!<o:p></o:p></div>
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COMBAT SKILLS: 7/10 – Shows his skills with all manner of
weapons and bounces about the Thunderdome like a spider-monkey!<o:p></o:p></div>
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ATTITUDE: 9/10 – Does it all for the kids. Dude! Could do
with more one-liners, though…<o:p></o:p></div>
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OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 7/10 - Jumps from car to car like a lunatic,
and all good heroes should have helper monkeys, just in case.<o:p></o:p></div>
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BODY COUNT: 4 kills in 107 minutes – not very mad! 1/10<o:p></o:p></div>
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MEL’S SCORE: 30/50<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
MEL’S AVERAGE SCORE: 26.667/50 – a lot of work still to do!<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-20902627370790581242013-01-18T02:07:00.003-08:002013-01-18T02:07:52.087-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 9: UNFORGIVEN (1992)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzHLKFVjgBi3gM97wP_R4qfA0HOxXGDEU3epu-6s7vLDWX1igg3RHmXK-icPeM6H0G0Ha64hSRLUiLZSBmlcDevGl_nZRVOOvr6QDOWeJxtLEYAP_nKf8iUBLbnxp2NRtBRIG5iryvUI/s1600/unforgiven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzHLKFVjgBi3gM97wP_R4qfA0HOxXGDEU3epu-6s7vLDWX1igg3RHmXK-icPeM6H0G0Ha64hSRLUiLZSBmlcDevGl_nZRVOOvr6QDOWeJxtLEYAP_nKf8iUBLbnxp2NRtBRIG5iryvUI/s1600/unforgiven.jpg" /></a></div>
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‘You sure don’t look
like no rootin’ tootin’ son of a bitch or cold blooded assassin,’ exclaims
young upstart and wannabe bounty hunter The Schofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvett),when
he first comes across Clint Eastwood’s wrinkly, grizzled widower Will Munny,
working the earth in the old American west. Looking to cash in on the bounty
offered up by a group of prostitutes for the swift execution of the bandits who
cut up one of their own, the Kid can scarcely believe the sad, tired old man before
him is ‘the meanest son of a bitch alive,’ that he’s been searching for. He’s
in for one helluva surprise, as in this impeccable Best Picture Oscar winner directed
by Eastwood himself, the lines between fact and myth, heroism and villainy are
ambiguously blurred, with Clint reminding audiences that there’s plenty life in
the old dog yet. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When we first
encounter Munny, it’s easy to see where the Kid is coming from, as the supposedly
reformed mercenary who hung up his guns long, long ago seems like an old,
washed-up has-been, left to run a farm and doing a pretty lousy job of it. As
he wrestles with his conscience, interesting questions are raised about Will’s
motivations for considering this One Last Job: is it about the money? This job
could guarantee a better future for his poor, motherless kids. Or is it about
doing what’s right? As Will says of the outlaws he’ll be tasked with murdering,
drunken animals who gleefully slashed up a young whore: ‘they got it comin’.’ Yet,
there is also a hint of suggestion that this is the opportunity he’s waited
years for – the chance to get back into doing the only damn thing he was ever
any good at, namely cold, hard killing. It’s to Eastwood’s credit that he keeps
us guessing, right up to the film’s awesome, shocking crescendo, whether Munny
will live up to the legends.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As Munny attempts to
get back into character, eleven long years after he left his bounty hunting
days behind, we discover that he can barely get up on his horse and really can’t
shoot for shit anymore. Munny needs to get his mojo back, cutting a poignant
figure, as own kids look on, embarrassed by the old lug struggling to get back
in the saddle. It is interesting to see Eastwood, an absolute legend of the
Western genre, exposing his frailties by taking on such a flawed, vulnerable
role, and it is a profound, emotional experience joining him on his journey to
see if, after all these years, he’s still got what it takes to be a real Hard
Bastard. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Joining up with his old
comrade Ned (Morgan Freeman), Munny and the Kid ride off for the little town of
Big Whisky, where Gene Hackman’s hardnosed sheriff ‘Little’ Bill Daggett keeps
the peace by resorting to brutal, violent tactics. Along the way the men
reminisce around the campfire, giving insight into their past transgressions. He
sees a lot of himself in the big-talkin’, whisky-sluggin’ Schofield Kid and it
is evident in his eyes that he doesn’t like what he sees, the young, innocent
buck standing at a crossroads in his life that reminds the old warhorse of the
lamentable path he once took. Munny seems disconsolate as he considers some of
the terrible things he’s supposed to have done. ‘You ain’t like that no more,’
opines Ned, but something in his voice only half convinces us, and it is little
ambiguities like this that make the film such a treat. As their journey
continues, small tidbits about Munny’s past are gradually teased out,
constantly altering our perceptions of the cowpoke who, at first, seemed merely
nothing more than a harmless old man. Munny is at once a sad, lonely old fool
who still pines for his dead wife, but also shady, whispered-about gunslinger,
described by those who remember his from
way-back-when as ‘cold as the snow.’ Yet
despite all we learn about him, Munny still manages to engage our sympathies,
staying true to his deceased beloved when the prostitutes offer him ‘free ones’,
and soaking up a beating from Little Bill, when he is cornered in a saloon.
Relentlessly battered for daring to bear arms in Bill’s town, we are left to
ponder if Munny is still cut out for all this, as he barely puts up a fight as
the lawman wades in. Munny also shows compassion when, having shown off his
rifle skills by tagging one of the whore-slashing outlaws from considerable
distance, he allows the desperado’s pals to bring him water as his life slowly,
painfully ebbs away in the afternoon desert heat. It says a lot for Clint’s
performance that though Munny kills for money, we find ourselves wholeheartedly
rooting for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Munny just about
scrapes through the final bullet-whizzin’ encounter with the outlaw gang,
seemingly relieved that the Kid takes care of the more grisly acts of violence
by blasting the final bandit as he sits on the crapper. The job seemingly over,
both men seem disconcerted, regretful of what they’ve done, with the Kid
swearing off violence for the rest of his days, telling Will ‘I’m not like you.’
Going their separate ways, Munny too seems to swear off his wicked ways, bearing
a sad, confused look that tells us that this experience really did not provide
him with the closure he was searching for. However, all that changes when word
reaches that Ned has been captured and killed by Little Bill for not revealing the
whereabouts of his partners and Munny saddles up one last time to go and even
the score. That sad look transforms into one of horrible acceptance that makes
us instantly understand that he’s been holding back this whole time. His friend
is dead and it’s all his fault, and the <i>real</i>
old Will has to come back if he’s gonna do this properly. Things are about to
get ugly…<o:p></o:p></div>
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Swaggering into the
local brothel on his lonesome, brandishing a massive rifle, Munny suddenly
seems to have doubled in height, chest puffed out, that familiar Eastwood growl
spooking out every miserable straphanger in the joint. When it all kicks off, Munny
is like a man transformed, the demon finally unleashed as he tears up the
place, blasting anything with a pulse, shouting cool, fearsome things like ‘I
killed everything that ever walked or crawled!’ When his rifle misfires, he
still finds time to chuck it at Little Bill, before drawing his six-shooter, so
ineffective before, and displaying some spectacular marksmanship to take out
multiple cowpokes in seconds. Unloading into Bill’s head, Munny stares right
into his eyes, not even flinching as he does so. It has been a long time
getting there, but <i>this</i> is Clint’s
supreme badass moment that we have all been waiting for, and it is so
scorchingly incendiary that it is well worth it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With Bill dead and
the job done, Will savours the moment and takes a long hard drink of whisky –
his first in years. It is his moment of acceptance, a realisation that he can
never change the man he is and the things he’s done. As an onlooker cries, ‘You
killed five men singlehanded!’, Munny just shrugs and drawls, ‘Yeah…’ like it’s
no big thing. To escape the bar, Munny roars to all gathered outside that he
will kill every man in town and their wives if they try to stop him riding out
of there, fearsomely leaving us to contemplate if he is merely playing up to
his legend, or if he is capable of far, far worse. Riding off, he orders the
townsfolk to ‘bury Ned right, or I’ll come back and kill every one of you sons
of bitches,’ and you kind of get the impression that they will most certainly
be sparing no expense for the poor bastard’s send-off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Unforgiven</i> is Clint at his finest, sucker-punching the audience as
he unleashes a character who turns out to be far more frightening and stoic
than we are ever led to believe. The film brilliantly plays with legend and
fact, reputation versus truth, to deliver a memorable character study for the
ages. Will Munny is, without a doubt, one Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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THE RATINGS:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILITY: 7/10 – He’s old, he’s weary, but if you
hurt his friends, he <i>will not be stopped</i>!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 7/10 – He’s rubbish at first, but reveals he
was only holding back. When the monster is unleashed this guy could kill you in
his sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 6/10 – Ambiguous. The bad guys definitely got it
comin’, but it’s hinted that Munny’s perpetrated some seriously nasty shit in
the past.<o:p></o:p></div>
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OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 7/10 – Lives up to his reputation as ‘the
meanest son of a bitch alive.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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BODY COUNT: 7 kills in 131 minutes – takes far too long to
unleash the beast. But then, that’s the point… 1/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
CLINT’S SCORE: 28/50 <o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-16917068261849118312013-01-16T07:01:00.003-08:002013-01-16T07:01:42.536-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 8: AN EYE FOR AN EYE (1981)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLnlDsLg9jzCnkQ-i9K-8GAnF1t-JN2Q27BL656jEQ6JwAES8HyccJbvyUcRNYRGo_Z7OVlQRY6xB0-fjBFKMI8V9J8Gamj28KocpooJuG1WSsFefmqigiRxHB61mSEyiYaIxyIKbFbA/s1600/eye_for_an_eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLnlDsLg9jzCnkQ-i9K-8GAnF1t-JN2Q27BL656jEQ6JwAES8HyccJbvyUcRNYRGo_Z7OVlQRY6xB0-fjBFKMI8V9J8Gamj28KocpooJuG1WSsFefmqigiRxHB61mSEyiYaIxyIKbFbA/s320/eye_for_an_eye.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Time for some
classic martial arts mayhem, with Chuck Norris on icy-cool James Bond form in <i>Lone Wolf McQuade </i>director Steve Carver’s
outrageous, action-heavy revenge thriller. Chuck, clean-shaven in this one, is
Sean Kane, a cop forced to resign from the San Francisco Police Department Narcotics
Division when he goes berserk after his partner is murdered during an
undercover op gone wrong. Turning vigilante to investigate the case, relentless
Kane soon finds himself mixed up in a much larger drug-smuggling conspiracy
where justice can only be served by beating the skulls of many, many bad guys to
a pulp.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Interestingly, the Kane
we see at the start of the flick is not the straight-faced, supercool Chuck
Norris we have come to know so well. Smiling, laughing, joking with his partner
Dave as they shoot the shit on a stakeout, it’s nice to see Chuck let his hair
down and have a laugh, but of course this can’t last long. Sure as sin, Dave
soon gets shot and hideously burned alive with Kane forced to look on,
helpless, as the stakeout turns out to be one huge shitestorm of a double-cross.
Though he can’t save his buddy, you can almost see a switch flip in Kane’s head,
as he goes mental and keeps on after the crims, even though he has taken a
beating himself. Showing no mercy, he takes out the baddies that are too slow
and unfortunate enough not to escape, proving how hard he is by tossing his gun
away, preferring to take the final hoodlum on hand-to-hand. When the goon pulls
a blade, Kane chooses karate-kicking him out of a window over reading him his
rights.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the captain (<i>Shaft</i> himself, Richard Roundtree!) goes
ballistic over his handling of the case, asking, ‘How do I defend a man like
you?’ Kane just gives him a glassy stare and bellows, ‘I’ll save you the
trouble,’ as he throws back his gun and badge. He marches straight out of the
station, that cold look in his eye, and gets into his sweet sports car and
speeds off, the captain looking on, worried. He knows this shit ain’t over, not
by a long shot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next we see him,
Kane is working out at his amazingly flash pad, a condo by the river that has
so many locks and alarms it’s like the dude lives in Fort Knox. Intensely
focused, a man on a mission, he works his tired body so hard that he eventually
collapses in a heap, before getting up to take a whole heap of vitamin pills,
all the while talking to his cute little dog. The guy is a wreckin’ machine,
but this nice little touch reminds us that he is human, with a heart and soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kane is soon
contacted by Dave’s girlfriend Linda, who just happens to be an investigative TV
reporter who may have a lead on the case, but informs Kane that she is in
perilous danger. As it turns out, she’s being pursued by a monstrous,
brick-shithouse-big, oriental assailant known only as The Professor (WWF’s
Professor Tanaka!) and it says all we need to know about Kane’s badass-ability that
this chick would rather call him than the cops when she’s in this kind of trouble.
Determined to aid her, Kane runs out of the house and into a goddamn <i>speedboat</i>, as if his car and cool red
leather jacket weren’t evidence enough of his unfeasible awesomeness. However,
Kane is too late, with Linda turning up dead, firing his utter vehemence up to
terrifying boiling point. As if he wasn’t angry enough, storming from the
murder scene, he finds his car is about to be towed! ‘Try it!’ he spits at the
tow-truck driver who wisely backs off once he catches a glimpse of those menacing,
glassy, snake-like eyes. He is a man on the edge and it is <i>on</i>!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Teaming up with spunky
journalist Heather (Maggie Cooper) and Linda’s father James, who just happens
to be the sensei who blessed him with his martial arts skills, Kane tugs at the
tail of the snake that turns out to be a massive Triad-run drug ring. Needless
to say, the snake bites back, with Kane taking on and pulverising numerous karate-chopping,
white jump-suited evil minions, while being relentlessly pursued by a machine
gun-packin’ helicopter. The baddies send legions of goons to take him out, like
they just <i>know</i> he’s a man that
shouldn’t be taken lightly, and though his assailants come at him with various
guns and knives, Kane bests them all using nothing more than his kung fu and
his wits. Whether he’s leaping off the side of a huge ship, or high-kicking a
light bulb so that the sparks set off a room full of fireworks to over his
daring escape, Chuck is on slick, legendary form, showing off the set of skills
that set him apart from mere mortals.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not much is revealed about Kane’s past, other
than he is one of the best cops on the force and it’s kind of neat the way that,
as the film goes on, when people talk about him we come to an understanding
that he has a stature as some king of supercop. When he meets Christopher Lee’s
shady head of the TV station Canfield (who, spoiler alert!!!, turns out to be
the mastermind behind the whole damn thing!), the magnate informs him that he
doesn’t normally allow access to his files to anyone, not even the cops, but he
will make an exception for Kane because he knows him by <i>reputation</i>. Later on, when Canfield remarks, ‘I hear you no longer
carry a weapon,’ one of his goons butts in to say, ‘He <i>is</i> a weapon!’ That’s pretty
damn cool.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he’s not
bitchslapping treacherous lowlifes, Kane can also be rather charming and sweet.
Heather is instantly attracted to him, as though he is an unrepentantly cruel
sonofabitch to the bad guys, he can be an absolute sorcerer with the ladies,
with not once ounce of sleaze in his body. The perfect gent, he cooks for her
and even dines using chopsticks, just to show how cultured he is. When it’s
time for bed, he makes no attempt to seduce her, making sure she’s nice and
settled in the spare room and says goodnight with a boyish look of naivete, as
though intimacy couldn’t be farther from his mind. But, of course, during the
night Heather can’t help herself, and <i>she</i>
comes to <i>him</i>. Smooth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still, for all his sleekness
and asskicking prowess, Kane is not completely infallible. He gets easily
sucker-punched by Canfield’s bodyguards and has to rely on James’ assistance to
escape, though he does manage to incapacitate a guy with his hands tied behind
his back, so that’s got to be worth something. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Getting over that
little hiccup, Kane and James assert their resolute bravery by taking on the
entirety of Canfield’s tooled-up army, completely unarmed. This leads to a
blistering assault on the tycoon’s hillside mansion that sees Kane groovily duel
with one villain on a diving board, before facing off against the gargantuan
Professor in a fight that’s so vicious, when the punches land, it’s as though
cannons are going off. Things get even more volatile when the cops, led by the
Captain who has been observing Kane’s quest all along, wade in to finish the
job. The Captain reveals that he decided Kane’s vigilante shenanigans were
causing the baddies more problems than they were causing him, so he left him to
it. Right on!This results in an incendiary fire fight, the perfect backdrop for
Kane’s final confrontation with the wretched Canfield.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kane takes the
villainous capitalist down with ease and starts to strangle the life out of
him, just as the S.F.P.D. burst onto the scene. As the Captain implores Kane to
‘let the law have him,’ there follows a quite ridiculous and unintentionally
humorous scene where the two men debate the implications of killing the
criminal mastermind, all while Kane still continues to choke the hapless bugger
who clings to life for an unfeasibly long time. Still, justice wins out in the
end with Kane proving he’s a proper goodie by showing mercy to the man that had
shown him none. Kane, James and Heather saunter off to celebrate a job well
done and Kane finally allows himself to smile again. The Hard Bastard’s earned
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE RATINGS:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILTY: 7/10 – Dodges many, many bullets, but
still gets sucker-punched a bit too easily.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 8/10 – Takes on a small army using, for the
most part, nothing but his hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 7/10 – Pursues justice relentlessly and is a
smoothie with the ladies. Shame his
wisecracks aren’t up to much.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 7/10 When he’s not diving off the sides of
bloody big boats, he’s chilling in his sport scar, speed boat or his fortress
crib. All on a copper’s salary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODYCOUNT: 12 kills in 99 minutes – pretty tame for a
revenge rampage. 2/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
CHUCK’S SCORE: 31/50<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
CHUCK’S AVERAGE: 35.5/50<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-82538421263258854362013-01-15T08:02:00.000-08:002013-01-15T08:02:20.780-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 7: FIRE WITH FIRE (2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwB3bsa4DYGiDtADvsf4XIRvsYHITpGGPHinWv-lWQ9gskEd_FlhUX7DEzHOJMLfisIOVnwfUTXBZJKsFq1hY-WOg4fxgQGLS8scGRkYby37PucfJ6K5yJHSF2SC5mkMo-Wd4Xg5XxT2E/s1600/fire+with+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwB3bsa4DYGiDtADvsf4XIRvsYHITpGGPHinWv-lWQ9gskEd_FlhUX7DEzHOJMLfisIOVnwfUTXBZJKsFq1hY-WOg4fxgQGLS8scGRkYby37PucfJ6K5yJHSF2SC5mkMo-Wd4Xg5XxT2E/s1600/fire+with+fire.jpg" /></a></div>
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Ah. We have been conned. Expert stunt co-ordinator-turned-director
David Barrett (he did stunts on <i>Jurassic Park
III</i> and <i>Spider-Man</i>) brings us
today’s Hard Bastard action, which turns out to be one of those direct-to-video
efforts that features a big star in a small supporting role, but canny
marketers have realised they can shift more units if they pretend said actor is
the main star of the movie. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So here we have <i>Fire With Fire</i>, the story of fireman Jeremy
Coleman (Transformers’ Josh Duhamel) who realises that the witness protection
program cannot keep the people he loves safe from the vicious Aryan perpetrators
of a murder he witnessed, so decides to track the villains down and eliminate
them himself. Bruce Willis is Mike Cella, a cop who takes an interest in Jeremy’s
case, as his own partner was murdered by Aryan ringleader Hagan (Vincent d’Onofrio)
and has been looking to nail the son of a bitch for years. As Jeremy takes down
Hagan’s gang one by one, utilising skills taught to him by U.S. Marshall
girlfriend Talia (Rosario Dawson), herself targeted by Hagan’s goons, Cella
helps to keep him one step ahead of the law and the bad guys so that justice
can be served. It’s a small role for Bruce, proving that even the action greats
are not above starring in DTV drivel to take a quick paycheck, but those sneaky
marketing bastards have put Bruce’s face up front and centre on the DVD cover
to make it look like he’s the star of the show, when in actual fact he spends
most of the movie behind a bloody desk. So, anyone picking this one up
expecting another <i>Die Hard</i>style
explode-a-thon could be in for a rough ride, though that’s not to say Bruce
doesn’t get to have few creditable badass moments…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite not having a
whole lot to get his teeth into, Bruce makes the most of a small part, very believable
as the frustrated cop who refuses to yield in his quest to bring a criminal to
justice, while the rest of the world turns a blind eye. Hagan’s intimidation of
witnesses has meant that he remains at large, and this time Cella is determined
that the sucker will go down no matter what. He knows that by putting Jeremy on
the stand will put the boy’s life in danger, but he needs him to testify,
otherwise he knows this Nazi creep will continue spreading hatred and evil. He
spends the whole of his limited screen time simmering away, waiting for his chance
to explode with rage, assuring his fellow cops that ‘If they want him, they’re
gonna have to go through <i>me!</i>’ It’s
interesting to see Bruce play a more restrained role and during his talky good
cop/bad cop scenes with his partner (played by Bonnie Somerville –Mona from <i>Friends</i>), you can just see it in his
eyes that he can’t <i>wait</i> to get out
there and bust some heads. Face to face with Hagan’s fast-talking sleazy
lawyer, who insists his client is innocent, Cella erupts, ‘How can you say that
shit with a <i>straight face?!?</i>, before
being restrained. Bruce may be a little older, but the <i>Die Hard</i> man is most definitely still in there, waiting to burst
out and blow shit up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cella, for the most
part, has to settle for living vicariously through Jeremy as he is the first to
twig on to what the vengeful firefighter is up to. He has several chances to
bring evidence to light that would seriously screw up Jeremy’s quest, but does
his best to keep the young buck ahead of the game. At one point he almost puts
out an A.P.B. on the kid after he offs Vinnie Jones’ Limey enforcer, but
changes his mind, waiting to see where all this is going. When fingerprints are
found, Cella insists that the results must come to him and <i>only</i> him, looking to keep Jeremy on the streets for as long as it
suits him. He may not be kicking ass in the traditional sense, but in this one
Bruce is most definitely the man pulling the strings. At one point he explains
his position to Jeremy, saying, ‘I want ‘em dead and buried just as much as you
do. But, I’m a cop…’ You can tell he’s getting a kick out of Jeremy’s
vigilantism, because under different circumstances it could quite easily be <i>him</i> out there, and he knows it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite being kept down
by bureaucratic bullshit, Cella still gets his chance to shine, when he’s
called to a meeting with Hagan who tries to intimidate him too. Taunted and threatened
by the bigot and his armed cronies, the tough guy detective doesn’t back down.
He just fires that cheeky smirk at them that we know so well, a look that says
he doesn’t give rat’s ass what these guys are saying: it’s time to put up or
shut up! Refusing to compromise, Cella swaggers away from the meeting, and when
one of Hagan’s thugs tries to stop him, he effortless beats the guy down in
seconds, a sign that he’s still got a deadly tiger in the tank. Later, just
when it looks like he’s about to bring Jeremy in, he reveals his hand, telling
him, ‘You can’t do this on your own,’ before letting him go free to face Hagan
in a final, deadly encounter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Fire With Fire</i> is a serviceable enough little action thriller, with
some brutal action sequences and some real edge-of-the-seat moments, though it’s
a real shame that Bruce doesn’t get involved more often. He definitely does
wonders with a small part and his mere presence helps to lift the film to a
whole other level, though straight-to-DVD is almost certainly where this one
belongs. If anything, Bruce’s scowling, pissed off, Hard Bastard kicking out
against the system act definitely whets the appetite for another <i>Die Hard</i> instalment which will thankfully
be making its way to theatres very soon! Yippie-ki-yay!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BRUCE’S RATING:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILITY: 4/10 – Doesn’t really see a whole lot of
action, though you get the impression he could definitely handle it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 3/10 – Only punches one dude, but does it
with such style that you ust know there’s plenty more where that came from.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 7/10 – Fights the good fight from behind a desk,
so the youn g upstart can wage his war on the streets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 3/10 – Bends the rules to breaking point to
bring a baddie to justice, but doesn’t jump through any windows or crash any
cars. Disappointing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODY COUNT: Possibly one in 97 minutes – rubbish. 1/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BRUCE’S SCORE: 18/50<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, it has only been
a week of this action movie business, but I have to confess I am being sucked
right into this world of violent, explosive manliness. By going into the
viewing experience with a healthy respect for the rules and clichés of the
genre, I have been able to get a kick out of critically-neglected DTV efforts
like <i>Fire With Fire</i>. Movies that have
garnered quite pitiful ratings on sites like IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes are
proving to be thoroughly entertaining, once I accept what the filmmakers and
the Hard Bastard involved have been trying to achieve. It has been an
entertaining ride so far, and I am curious as to how I will feel about all this
a little further down the line. Cheers!<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-75184662100927395782013-01-14T08:32:00.001-08:002013-01-14T08:32:22.657-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 6: THE GLIMMER MAN (1996)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCj7U4N3U7eip8DGirm7htst4yP1TAdNwHN8i1fi4s9Vjl-QG3_YuGQWEzqW389GLfXRhssQANEasAypGTWAY3f1qQlCSc3pna7CY04M6xSXWbYNhT58a6QyE8b21tlnTtUIs_7IP6JE/s1600/GLIMMER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCj7U4N3U7eip8DGirm7htst4yP1TAdNwHN8i1fi4s9Vjl-QG3_YuGQWEzqW389GLfXRhssQANEasAypGTWAY3f1qQlCSc3pna7CY04M6xSXWbYNhT58a6QyE8b21tlnTtUIs_7IP6JE/s320/GLIMMER.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
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The Hard Bastard
Gods have decreed that today shall be the turn of the Master of Aikido, Lord
Steven Seagal, to show off his indomitable macho action man chops. I have never
been the biggest fan of Seagal’s zen-but- mouthy, take-no-crap, dress like a
hippy, sting like a bee schtick, but after this one I have definitely
reassessed my feelings towards the man. Released during Seagal’s mid-nineties
heyday, when the pony-tailed one was at the peak of his box office powers, Director
John Gray’s <i>the Glimmer Man</i> teams The
Great One up with jive-talkin’ Keenen Ivory Wayans, to incendiary, thrilling
effect. Wayans’ wisecracking, Humphrey Bogart-loving L.A. Detective Jim
Campbell is forced to partner-up with Seagal’s mysterious, mystic, bead-wearing
New York cop, Lt. John Cole, when they are assigned to track down a serial
killer dubbed ‘The Family Man,’ due to his habit of murdering entire families
in atrocious, ritualistic fashion. Campbell quickly discovers that Cole,
steeped in Buddhism and used to working alone, has a shady past that could
actually hold the key to solving the case and unlocking a much larger
conspiracy. Happily, this involves copious violence, sweet car chases and a
whole load of stuff that blows up grandly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seagal is a
commanding presence here, and though he often looks ridiculous in his bizarre, multicoloured
tunics and beads, he glides through the narrative with such poise and confidence
that he <i>owns</i> any room he walks into.
Cole oozes self-belief and tackles some pretty hairy situations with a serenity
that makes him look totally badass. No sooner than he’s been assigned to this
homicide case, he’s strolling into a hostage situation in a school, purely
because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. As his partner points out, it’s
not even in their department jurisdiction, but before anyone even knows what’s
going on, Cole has sorted the situation out by hurling himself and the teen
gunman through a plate glass window. His methods are extreme, but dammit, he
gets <i>results</i>. As it turns out, the
kid’s dad is someone very important: shady crook Frank Deverell (Bob Gunton),
who just happens to be a central figure in the whole conspiracy, and Cole
becomes a marked man for refusing to testify that the boy was temporarily
insane. Quite bodaciously, when Deverell presents him with a thinly-veiled
threat, Cole explodes: ‘You tell your asshole boss that <i>nobody</i> threatens me…now take your ugly ass outta here!’ Seagal is supremely
skilled at spitting such venomous censures and in this movie he gets plenty
opportunities to vent his spleen. Cole is also quick to point out that he
deplores violence, but will remorsefully resort to it when the baddies give him
no other option. Thankfully, this happens quite regularly, resulting in some
impeccable, squelchy bloodshed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though Cole is prone
to sprouting weird, floaty spiritual nonsense like, ‘she is merely a broken
vessel,’ and ‘crying cleanses the soul,’ he also exhibits some quite outrageous,
sage, otherworldly skills, such as being able to work out where a murder victim
came from purely by her ‘bone structure’, and is knowledgeable about mystical
Eastern medicine. He even sneakily gets Campbell to ingest some ‘powdered deer
penis,’ to cure his allergies, which becomes a whimsical, but tired running
joke. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Constantly laughing,
joking and ribbing each other, Cole and Campbell become an affable double act,
with Campbell reliably bringing the blithe, street smart attitude, and Cole
bringing the wisdom and the ultraviolent pain. Cornered by some baddies when
they stumble across some hoods breaking into a car, Seagal warns them: ‘My
friend, he’s a little bit country, I’m a little bit rock n’ roll!’, nicely
summing up their relationship, before it all kicks off. With the bad guys
attempting to rob them, thinking them unarmed, Cole quips, ‘do you take <i>plastic</i>?’ before whipping out a credit
card containing a sneaky hidden blade, slashing up his assailants quick style,
before kung fu-ing the shit out of them. It makes you wonder: what kind of guy
would carry such a thing? He’s resourceful and tough, and throughout the movie he does it all with no small measure
of style and finesse. As Campbell points
out, ‘He speaks Chinese, dresses like a monk and he’s like Bruce Lee in battle!’
Amen to that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When his ex-wife is
found butchered and he’s stitched up for the Family Man murders, Cole shows
what he’s made of and comes out fighting, looking to track down and punish the
powerful figures from his past who he figures must be behind it all. When the
chief informs him that he’s suspended pending an investigation, following a
heated exchange in the P.D. men’s room Cole enquires which urinal the boss has just
pissed in, before tossing his gun and badge straight into the manky piss-pot. Nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cole then tracks
down his old army buddy-turned Senator Smith (Brian Cox), who he suspects might
have something to do with it all and becomes caught up in an electrifying
restaurant smackdown. Before he’s even entered the eatery, Cole sparks out a
mouthy maître d’, and when Smith’s bodyguard suggest he leave quietly, the
Buddhist ballbuster retorts ‘I have something in my pocket that will completely
clear up that bruise on your forehead.’ Before the confused enforcer can
finishing asking ‘what bruise?’, Cole has knocked him into next week and is
soon taking on five very angry, highly trained bad guys. Effortlessly messing
them up, tossing them through windows and taking a chance to show off his
brilliant close-quarters combat style, Cole swaggers off, point made, and
coolly enquires, ‘Do you validate parking?’ This one really is a masterclass in
ridiculous action movie quipping, with the wisecracks coming thick and fast, making
for a bloody good, riotous laugh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We soon find out
where Cole got his particular set of skills from when, plotting to take him
down, co-conspirators Deverell and Smith reveal that he is ex-Special Ops, the
best-of-the-best, a Vietnam vet nicknamed ‘the Glimmer Man’, who has seen some
serious shit. Of Cole’s past form, Smith
explains, ‘there’d be nothing but jungle…then a glimmer…then you’d be DEAD.’
Cole was apparently so tough that he went rogue and started making up his own
assignments, before disappearing to Thailand where he found spirituality and
peace, eventually dedicating his life to law and justice. Unfortunately for the villains, setting Cole
up seems to have only succeeded in flicking a switch in his head that makes the
violent acts of justice we’ve seen so far look like a goddamn picnic. When two
hoods posing as cops try to kidnap him, from the backseat of a speeding car the
steamed-up Spartan beats one of them to death with his own gun. He then
fearlessly smashes the vehicle right into a massive gasoline truck, spectacularly
rolling out the back window just before the inevitable fiery mushroom cloud
signals that this most definitely means WAR.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next time the
partners encounter Smith, proper procedure goes out the window, as Cole shoots him in the foot to get him to squeal, then promptly
blasts him in the hand just to prove he ain’t messing about. After he’s spilled
the beans, (some convoluted nonsense concerning a cover-up, Deverell, chemical
weapons and Russian mobsters)Smith confesses, ‘I miss you Jack…our men these
days, they just won’t go that extra mile.’ This is the level of Hard Bastard we’re
dealing with – he’s so nails, he’s getting compliments from the guy he’s just
shot! Then, as Smith begs them for leniency and to at least call him an
ambulance, Cole spits, ‘I only shot you in one foot – <i>hobble</i> to the hospital!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With the info he
needs, Cole shows off his smarts, playing the bad guys off against each other
and leading them into a ferocious, riveting gun battle. When, during the
assault, Campbell is blasted right out of a window and left hanging
precariously from a ledge, Cole shows how selflessly courageous he is by abseiling
down the side of the building to rescue him. This is very cool indeed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally getting to
go mano-a-mano with the <i>real</i> Family
Man killer - Deverell’s nefarious right hand man Cunningham (John M. Jackson) -
Cole pulls out all the stops in a brutal, bloody final fight that shows just
how unstoppable The Glimmer Man really is. Urging his foe to ‘take your best
shot,’ Cole seems unsatisfied, despite the crunching blow to the face he
receives for his troubles. ‘No! Your <i>best</i>
shot,’ he roars, inciting the guy to wallop him even harder. ‘Boring!’ he
cries, quite splendidly, before composing himself and calmly quipping, ‘That’s
the best you got, I’m gonna have to <i>kill</i>
you.’ Then he unleashes hell in the type of classic, furious fight that sees
scenery demolished marvellously, and blood and teeth fly through the air like
gristly bullets. The duel reaches fever pitch with both men trying to strangle
each other to death, before Cunningham receives his comeuppance by being sent
hurtling through a window to be impaled on spikes below, just as the church
bell tolls. It is a suitably stylish end to a thrilling physical encounter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With Cole’s name
cleared and the war finally over, injured Campbell is led off on a stretcher, stopping
to tell Cole that ever since he’s met him he’s been nothing but trouble.
Smirking, Cole says he’ll keep that in mind, shooting his comrade a look that
implies he ain’t seen nothin’ yet, before swaggering off into the crowd: ready to
right some more wrongs and kick a whole lot more ass. He’s The Glimmer Man. That’s
just how he rolls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE RATINGS:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILITY: 9/10 – Cunningham kinda gives him a run
for his money, but to be honest, Seagal barely breaks sweat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 7/10 Great with his hands, a piece or even a
credit card. Not bad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 8/10 Strives to do what’s right, takes cases that
are outside his department, and tells bribing baddies to kiss his ass. However,
possibly did some questionable stuff in Nam…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 7/10 Leaping from moving cars, abseiling
down buildings during a firefight, maiming baddies with credit cards, he’s
pretty damn crazy!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODY COUNT: 14 kills in 91 minutes – A lot of room for
improvement! 2/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SEAGAL’S SCORE: 33/50<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-88810640367610280702013-01-11T10:00:00.000-08:002013-01-11T10:00:06.575-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 5: LAST MAN STANDING (1996)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOvH0MVKbwbQ4EguBfhwfXGle4_JdO7t9L_tNKEEo0sXYQSliZsenWJfvD4myY2vGaxvM-GOLTvqwrta-RC9GqU_IKmMbcSdgIK3iKz2XwKlm56rDf0fZccz_QAvcohxdh4A8niXVGvI/s1600/LAST+MAN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOvH0MVKbwbQ4EguBfhwfXGle4_JdO7t9L_tNKEEo0sXYQSliZsenWJfvD4myY2vGaxvM-GOLTvqwrta-RC9GqU_IKmMbcSdgIK3iKz2XwKlm56rDf0fZccz_QAvcohxdh4A8niXVGvI/s320/LAST+MAN.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
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Today’s installment
of badass Hard Bastardry comes in the shape of Walter Hill’s Prohibition-era
hard-boiled gangster-noir thriller <i>Last
Man Standing</i>. An officially sanctioned remake of Akira Kurosawa’s influential
1961 actioner <i>Yojimbo</i>, this one stars
Bruce Willis in full-on scowling, cocky, tough son-of-a-bitch mode, as
mysterious, travelling gun-for-hire John Smith. Stopping off in the small, West
Texas town of Jericho, Smith quickly realises the burg is practically deserted,
save for two warring bootleg gangs who have driven almost everyone else away
with their nefarious misdeeds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In town for about five minutes, Smith is soon neck-deep in trouble for staring a little too hard at the gorgeous girlfriend of
Irish gangster Doyle(David Patrick Kelly). Despite being heftily outnumbered by
eight hard-as-nails Irish hoodlums, the cocksure, wisecracking scoundrel mouths
off, ‘A guy once told me it’s a free country!’ before the boys teach
him a lesson by trashing his car. Smith duly gets the whole town’s attention
and establishes quite the reputation by downing a scotch before
outdrawing and blowing away Doyle’s top shooter. No sweat. Smith then promptly
hires himself out to Italian mobster Strozzi (Ned Eisenberg)’s outfit, smelling
an opportunity to make a fistful of dollars by playing the two rival factions
off against each other in the war to control the contraband coming in from
Mexico. The stage is set for some gloriously violent, double-crossing,
explosive gangster mayhem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bruce is pretty damn
cool in this one, slightly toning down his wise-guy, mouthy John McClane
schtick to create a likeable, but ambiguous character whose moral code has many
shades of grey, and whose motives are not always entirely clear. Smith doesn’t
think twice about killing, but he’s also a gent, tipping his hat to the ladies
and always ready to defend the honour of the weak and innocent. He gets mixed
up with Strozzi’s downtrodden mistress, Lucy (Alexandra Powers), hinting that the
ladies may be his one and only weak point. Despite masterfully deceiving and
backstabbing practically everyone in town for his own benefit, when Lucy is
brutalised after their affair comes to light, Smith shows he still has a heart
by making sure she gets safely out of town.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though he may have a
soft centre, Smith, thankfully, is still reliably tough as hell. Ambushed by thugs
while getting his rocks off with a hooker (a young Leslie Mann), he proves that
a real Hard Bastard always keeps his guns handy as he athletically leaps out of
bed, retrieving his six-shooters from under his pillow and blasting his
attackers to hell. In the nude. It is a very, very cool manoeuvre and an absolutely
classic action moment, only slightly ruined by the fact that he doesn’t get
back under the sheets to finish the job.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throughout the movie
he displays massive cojones by repeatedly mouthing off, making enemies and
getting into fistfights, knowing full well that the bad guys could pull a piece
at any moment. The man just doesn’t give a rat’s ass. At one point, knowing
that both sides want him six feet under, Smith nonchalantly sits in his chair
in the mid-afternoon sun, in full view of the whole town, and quietly, smugly
peels an apple, almost daring his enemies to make a move. That’s what I call
tough!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Even when Doyle’s
right hand man, fearsome enforcer Hickey(a terrifically menacing Christopher
Walken) arrives in town, unflappable Smith still doesn’t back down. As the eerie,
gangly, gravel-voiced Hickey does his best to intimidate him, the hotshot mercenary
just smirks and waits for his moment: he’s the man with the plan, and he’s
playing all the angles. Even when he’s ambushed in the bath, Smith keeps his
cool, just leaning back and listening to what hickey has to say. When asked if
he’s scared, he even has the gall to say ‘Yeah…the water’s getting’ cold!’ As
his men beat the crap out of him and Hickey remarks, ‘He’s nothing without a
gun,’ we just know that Smith still holds all the aces and he’s gonna finish
this with gutsy aplomb. Smith is <i>definitely</i>
the kind of guy you should really kill while you’ve got the chance. He’s even
mental enough to think that he can take on an army of armed hoodlums while
busted up, armed only with a small knife. ‘I can get a gun with it, ‘ boasts
the crazy bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After showing early
promise, Hill’s picture starts to sag a little in its mid-section, proving perhaps
a little too talky for those expecting non-stop, tommy-gun-blasting action. It’s
fun to watch Smith swindling not just the hoods, but Bruce Dern’s crooked
Sheriff as well, into thinking they’ve got the upper hand, but after a while you
just want to see Bruce do what he does best: namely, making things go KABOOM!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thankfully, the film
builds up to a gorgeously bloody climax that sees Smith showcase his terrifying
gunplay by taking on a room full of armed hoodlums in quite spectacular fashion.
Not one of them manages to get close to the smooth, fedora-clad, shit-hot
marksman, who is fast, assured, confident and impossibly cool. When one hood
holds a gun to a girl’s head, Smith doesn’t even hesitate before blowing the
guy away. We know so little about the guy, yet his body language, his reflexes
and his confidence suggest that the havoc he wreaks on Jericho is only the tip
of one icy cool iceberg. He annihilates goon after goon, all with that crazy,
world-weary <i>Die Hard</i> look in his
eyes, firing off a shitload of bullets and making the corpses bounce about all
over the place like in a goddamn ultra-violent videogame, just to make sure
they’re dead. He fights on, even though he’s severely wounded from his earlier
pasting, even stopping for a big ol’ drink of whisky, because, hey, you might
as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With business sorted
out and just about everyone in town now dead or dying, Smith shows no joy, no
celebration. ‘They were all better off dead,’ he spits, then gets back in his
car and drives off, back out into the unforgiving desert. This was just another
job. Now, on to the next one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What a Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE RATINGS: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILITY: 7/10 – Smith <i>does</i> take a hell of a beating, but it barely slows him down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 8/10 – No-one is faster with a gun, though we
never find out if he could have done it all with that knife…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 6/10 – Does it all for the money, but he’s a gent
with the ladies.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 7/10 Blasts baddies in the nude and is rude
to <i>everyone</i> in a town full of
killers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODY COUNT: 31 kills in 101 minutes – respectable, but could
have achieved so much more if he’d cut the chat and got on with wasting folk.
3/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BRUCE’S SCORE: 31/50<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-65610405978297175482013-01-11T01:42:00.001-08:002013-01-11T01:42:39.938-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL.4: CYBORG (1989)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1FcbvxGvBnbi4Z5NF0QQa2Y5cpZQY5_XK7BuldFAdxL_b02FLr1vFEgPqKA5JlGqMNz4qkA43L-ES1ZcU2t78fgNJvWhd7_KZO9pEwsrLGPpuFhD9lLwrCPUZG9LqryPB7XvuOdF3wg/s1600/cyborg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1FcbvxGvBnbi4Z5NF0QQa2Y5cpZQY5_XK7BuldFAdxL_b02FLr1vFEgPqKA5JlGqMNz4qkA43L-ES1ZcU2t78fgNJvWhd7_KZO9pEwsrLGPpuFhD9lLwrCPUZG9LqryPB7XvuOdF3wg/s1600/cyborg.jpg" /></a></div>
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In a plague-infested,
<i>Mad Max</i>-meets-<i>Masters of the Universe </i>style urban wasteland future, everyone is
into martial arts, nobody can act, and the bad guys all have really ridiculous
haircuts. Chaos reigns, as a band of cyberpunk ‘pirates’ led by the magically
monikered villainous colossus Fender Tremolo (Vincent Klyn) kidnap a female
cyborg who may just hold the key to saving the world. Enter Jean Claude Van
Damme’s equally brilliantly named Gibson Rickenbacker, a directionless drifter
with a tortured past and unfinished business with Fender, who will have to
summon all his strength and high-kicking kung fu courage to become the hero a
dying world needs him to be. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This another one of
those Cannon films from the 80s, where production values were usually secondary
to having a big name action star wasting a whole bunch of baddies in ever more
bloody and explosive ways. The whole picture basically looks like it was filmed
in rubbish dumps and abandoned warehouses, with piss-poor makeup and effects,
and even worse acting ensuring that this one will hardly be remembered as a
classic of the action sci-fi genre. For a film with two main characters named
after respected makes of guitars, there is also a whiff of irony about the fact
that the flick’s twiddly 80s synth soundtrack is more offensive than its multi-coloured,
child-murdering villains. This is one of the earlier entries on JCVD’s CV and
it shows, as though he proves dangerous in a scrap, his lines are minimal,
probably due to his still developing acting skills. We all have to start
somewhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thankfully, Van Damme’s undeniable martial arts skills make
this one almost watchable, strutting his stuff in overblown fight scenes packed
with neat weaponry, like bola whips, spears and deadly boots containing
concealed blades that mean Gibson can kick <i>and</i>
stab baddies at the same time. He routinely takes on up to eight bizarrely
dressed, gas-mask wearing goons at once, his acrobatics providing the perfect
distraction from the film’s terrible, muddled plot. The drifter also shows off
his stealthy sneakiness by regularly sneaking up on the baddies, picking them
off one-by-one with his bare hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At first, Van Damme’s
weary traveller comes across as a bit of an asshole, claiming he doesn’t give a
damn about curing the plague and that he’s only in this for revenge. However,
along the way, as he takes beautiful, young, fellow drifter Nady (Deborah
Richter) under his wing, his past is slowly teased out and we learn just how
heroic he really is. After checking out his radical battle scars, his blonde,
buxom travel companion attempts to seduce him, but Gibson’s having none of it.
Cue corny flashbacks that reveal a horrifically pony-tailed Gibson taking money
to lead a young mother and her kids out of the war-torn city, only to fall in
love with her. We discover that the bad guys eventually caught up with his new ‘family’
and killed them all, leaving Gibson for dead. This is what made him so hard and
dispassionate, afraid of forming attachments ever again. When it transpires
that the ‘daughter’ he once thought dead is actually now all grown up, raised
by Fender as one of his despicable lackeys, our hero is ever so slightly pissed.
In this harsh future, you can’t afford to be soft, and Gibson proves harder
than most.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still, he is
revealed to be slightly more fallible than your usual action hero, whining as
he takes a fair few lickings from his foes and routinely having to run away
from danger throughout the movie. There are a number of tedious scenes of
Gibson and Nady running, though one escape scene involving the Muscles From
Brussels swinging out of harm’s way on a bloody great big metal pipe, ploughing
through baddies as he goes, is highly entertaining. Our hero has to rely on
luck on more than one occasion, but shows immense bravery against impossible
odds, never giving up, despite getting his ass handed to him regularly. He
risks life and limb to save Nady when he could quite easily be escaping – the sign
of a real virtuous champ. The dude even gets completely brutalised, then
physically <i>crucified</i> by his cackling
adversaries, before bouncing back from near death to save the day. In fact, it
seems to be the point of the whole movie that Gibson must be completely broken
down, must hit rock bottom, in order to be reborn as mankind’s true saviour,
just like that other great hero from history: Steve Austin, the Six Million
Dollar Man. We can rebuild him…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In an outrageously
cool scene, hung from a cross, Gibson draws on his rage, his memories of all
the injustices that Fender and his crew have wreaked on him throughout his
life, in order to summon the strength to tear himself free and stride into
battle against his nemesis. Appearing like a glistening, bare-chested, vengeful
bat out of hell, stood in the pouring rain, armed with a bow and arrow, Gibson
calls his enemies out, ready to finally become the hero we suspected he could
be. The pulse-pounding battle in the middle of a thunderstorm is incredibly
stylish, with Gibson tackling a <i>man on
fire</i> before going toe-to-toe with Fender, both combatants stripped to the
waist, shivering, but ready for all-out WAR. It is an exceptionally cool moment
in a really rather lacklustre movie, but it’s worth waiting for. Fender,
resembling a testosterone-fuelled WWF wrestler is an absolute man-mountain and
the fight is bone-crunchingly brutal, with heads being slammed in car doors and
both men roaring like bears as each thudding roundhouse kick hits home. Unlike
their previous duels, this time Gibson does not back down, faces up to his
destiny and is rewarded when he boots the wretched blackguard so hard that he
flies across the room and is impaled on a gigantic meat hook. Awesome.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Van Damme emerges
from this one a hero, but he takes an awful long time getting there. The film
is certainly packed with violence, but so much of it is shown in jarring, super
slow-motion that the full effect of JCVD’s radiant martial arts prowess do not
fully get the chance to shine through. The Belgian would have to wait for a
better director to truly harness the skills that would solidify his place as a
true legendary Hard Bastard. And would it have killed them to have chucked in a
few jokes?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE RATINGS:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INVINCIBILITY: 4/10 – The guy gets battered far too easily,
far too often.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 6/10 - Utilises an impeccable arsenal of
weapons and shows off his martial arts, but the slow-mo kind of ruins it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 7/10 – Acts
like a bit of an asshole, but he’s been through a lot. Comes good in the end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 8/10 – Pulls himself down off the cross
after being <i>crucified</i>!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODY COUNT: 25 kills in 84 minutes – not bad. Room for improvement.
4/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
JCVD’s SCORE: 29/50<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-14437934500088152372013-01-09T14:31:00.005-08:002013-01-09T14:31:41.150-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 3: BRAVEHEART (1995)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhwBCqKZBSZNxhGvJrOOAMItkV2uRecQrh8xNVIbE6nfevSq-__lv_ErI-9SEDnI2VIPiN2LsxlRwg2ka7gVGuCDXmxR0Z0-AxYFsaWJgBCNYmCDePDP9M1vBkeiKkf3_abXMZWCaMu0/s1600/braveheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhwBCqKZBSZNxhGvJrOOAMItkV2uRecQrh8xNVIbE6nfevSq-__lv_ErI-9SEDnI2VIPiN2LsxlRwg2ka7gVGuCDXmxR0Z0-AxYFsaWJgBCNYmCDePDP9M1vBkeiKkf3_abXMZWCaMu0/s1600/braveheart.jpg" /></a></div>
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As fate would have
it, for the third instalment of my one-movie-a-day-for-a-year quest into the
realm of Hard Bastard-dom, the Tub of Death follows up Mel Gibson’s directorial
debut with his next effort, the historically questionable, but gloriously thrill-packed
<i>Braveheart</i>. Once again Mel stars,
this time as real-life Scottish hero William Wallace, a commoner who revolts
against English invaders in the late thirteenth century, eventually becoming a
great leader and iconic figure in the War of Independence. Though Gibson took
some stick for applying a heavy dose of artistic license to the unfolding of
historic events (did Wallace <i>really</i>
hump the French princess?!!?), there can certainly be no denying that this near
three hour epic is still a stirring, emotionally-involving and action-packed
corker of a film that quite deservingly won a host of Oscars, including Best
Picture. As a cheeky bonus, it’s also violent as hell, with Gibson’s Wallace
proving to be an iconic, sword-swinging action hero for the ages. Not bad for a
dude in a skirt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the struggle to
vanquish the English intruders, Wallace proves himself to be that rare breed of
hero who has equal amounts brains to complement his considerable brawn. Having
moved abroad at a young age to be educated by his uncle (the legendary Brian
Cox), following the murder of his father at English hands, he returns home a
man, ready to lead a rebellion. His first act upon arrival is to prove how hard
he is by engaging in a ‘test of manhood’ with his old best pal Hamish (Brendan
Gleeson), which basically involves grown men chucking massive rocks as hard and
as far as they can. Though Hamish bests him, Wallace points out that the <i>real</i> test of a soldier is ‘not in his
arm,’ but in his brain, before proceeding to prove how doubly hard he is by
refusing to flinch as his pal lobs a bloody great big boulder that narrowly
misses his head. Then, for good measure, he knocks the guy unconscious with a
pebble, just to prove his point. Nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It doesn’t take the
guy long to woo the ladies either, picking up where he left off with childhood
sweetheart Murron (Catherine McCormack). The cheeky charmer proves to be pretty
smooth for a savage, chatting her up in French and before you can say ‘voulez-vous
coucher avec moi…’ they’re married. Quick work!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things turn ugly
when the arrogant English invaders, ‘exercising their noble right,’ try to have
their way with her, provoking Wallace into a scrap where he solidifies his
badass credentials by taking on a whole battalion of armed swordsmen, initially
with nothing more than rocks and his mighty fists. During the battle, Wallace
proves himself to be quite deadly with all manner of weaponry, from swords and
spears to bloody great big hammers, showing no mercy and inspiring his people
to take up arms and fight with him. When his missus is captured and killed, the
woad really hits the fan, with the furious Wallace galvanising his people and
leading them into massive, chaotic battles where the English quickly discover
that vengeance wears a kilt…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gibson’s Wallace is
an almost unfeasibly cool customer, swaggering across battlefields and into the
territory of an enemy that far outnumbers his army and coolly telling them that
Scotland is free, end of story, and that if the English know what’s good for
them they should bugger off. Putting those ‘Mad Mel’ eyes to good use, as part
of his terms, he even dementedly demands that a rival commander cross the battlefield,
where he will be invited to pucker up and kiss his own arse. Of course they do
no such thing, but Wallace proves a master tactician, taking advantage of his
opponents’ arrogance to set up cool little traps and diversions that catch them
completely off guard to win battles against impossible odds. In one tremendous
set-piece, massive rows of English horsemen foolishly charge at Wallace’s men,
thinking them easy pickings, only to discover that the Scots have lured them
into a trap and they’re all tooled up with huge spears, becoming a massive
human hedgehog. It is a breathtaking, savage, wonderfully conceived cinematic
moment, with Wallace at the heart of it all, relishing the carnage and vengefully
lopping off heads amidst one of the most bloodthirsty battle scenes aver filmed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Scot quickly
builds up a reputation as an ultimate, mighty warrior, so much so that
newcomers to the resistance refuse to believe he is who he says he is and are a
bit sceptical about following him. At this, Wallace proudly booms, ‘Aye, I hear
he’s seven foot tall, kills men by the hundred and fights the English with fire
from his eyes and lightning bolts from his arse!” His humour wins the men over,
Gibson showing off his laudable Scots accent while delivering one of cinema’s
most rousing, electrifying speeches. You know the one: it ends with him
shouting ‘…FRREEEEEDDDOOOOMMM!!!!’ and his entire army lifting up their kilts
to bare their bums at rather-frightened English archers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throughout the
picture, Gibson pulls out all the stops to ensure that Wallace will be
remembered as one helluva Hard Bastard. His gallantry in battle and daring
tactics earn him a knighthood, but he doesn’t stop there. He shows his enemies
how mental he really is by sending them severed heads in the post, and rides
into the house of a traitor to bash his head in with a gargantuan
ball-and-chain while he sleeps. It says a lot that the conspirator was already
haing a nightmare about Wallace just before the attack. He is a seriously tough
cookie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He furthers his
almighty badass credentials by refusing to compromise in the face of
oppression. When the English offer him land and a title in exchange for a
truce, he swiftly tells them where to stick it. When he loses a battle and
discovers he has been betrayed by men he loved and trusted, the dude still gets
back on his horse and fights on, furthering his legend and inspiring his people
further.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hell, Wallace proves
so dashing and daring that the French Princess of Wales decides to betray King
Edward, purely because she fancies him. Going against the history books, Gibson
would even have us believe that Wallace seduces her<i> and</i> gets her pregnant, meaning that second in line to the English
throne is actually <i>his</i> bloody kid.
Now <i>that’s</i> a hero, right there!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even when he is
captured and facing death, the grizzled Scot is triumphantly gallus. Knowing
his life will be spared if he pledges allegiance to his captor, Wallace flat
out refuses, understanding that his absolute defiance stands as a beacon of
hope: something for his downtrodden people to believe in and fight for.
Solemnly, he declares, ‘Every man dies…not every man really lives,’ gallantly accepting
his fate as a martyr for his countrymen, so that freedom might eventually
return to the land he loves. It is proper legendary heroic behaviour, and as
the Princess begs with him to drink an elxir that will numb the pain during his
impending torture, the warrior quite brilliantly exclaims, ‘No…it will numb my
wits, and I must have them. If I am senseless and I wail, then they will have
broken me.’ He is one seriously tough cookie. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His death is
suitably gnarly and grisly, ‘the awful price of treason,’ as his assailants put
it. Publicly tortured, his body is wrecked as he is hung by the neck, pulled
apart by horses, then finally, horribly mutilated, all while his persecutors
implore him to beg for mercy. Yet the courageous freedom fighter never yields,
clinging to his hopes, beliefs and integrity until the bitter end. During the
film’s inspirational, awe-inspiring, reach-for-the –hankies crescendo, with his
last breath Wallace roars his final word, a powerful call-to-arms and a sign to
his enemies that he and his people will never be broken: FREEDOM. What a dude.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE RATING:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILITY: 8/10 - Wallace takes a hell of a beating
and never gives up, though he does die in the end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 8/10 – Busts his enemies up with anything he
can get his hands on, and with some style too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 10/10 – Even in death, he sticks to his guns. A
total hero.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 8/10 Flashes his bum at his enemies and
order them to kiss their own arses. Mental.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODY COUNT: 33 in 175 minutes – impressive, but somehow you
really do feel like it should have been more – 3/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
MEL’S SCORE: 37/50 – Not bad!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
MEL’S AVERAGE: 25/50<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-34205977929140626662013-01-07T13:52:00.001-08:002013-01-07T13:52:20.500-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 2: THE MAN WITHOUT A FACE (1993)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZFAXX13b2UHQP6KOzk-tktcJokilFiG7t4yLLqy__0g4VApN6pd2rr9qX08mFXr7VtUYv1Cd2PfXGL94yrwFln8plVzYh3VoyK5HMpDFV1mYgf0HCSGhJnVSV-HzU6y6qPKuIu8bpR8/s1600/man+without+a+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZFAXX13b2UHQP6KOzk-tktcJokilFiG7t4yLLqy__0g4VApN6pd2rr9qX08mFXr7VtUYv1Cd2PfXGL94yrwFln8plVzYh3VoyK5HMpDFV1mYgf0HCSGhJnVSV-HzU6y6qPKuIu8bpR8/s1600/man+without+a+face.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s an interesting, leftfield surprise for day two of the challenge. Despite
being a perfectly respectable directorial debut for Mel Gibson, who also serves
up a powerful, brooding performance as the film’s star, 1993’s <i>The Man Without A Face</i> is nevertheless a
bit of a letdown in the Hard Bastard stakes.<i>
</i>In the adaptation of Isabelle Holland’s 1972 novel of the same name, Mel is
Justin McLeod, a painter who has been living a reclusive existence in a small 1962
Maine town, due to a mysterious accident that has left his face and torso
hideously disfigured. The locals fear him, as he “never comes out of his
dungeon,” but disappointingly he is not an isolated, retired special-ops
assassin just waiting to be called out of retirement for once last all-action
assignment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A former teacher,
McLeod crosses paths with Chuck Norstadt (impressive child star Nick Stahl), a troubled
young boy who desperately wants to pass a military academy’s entrance exam, and
who sees the damaged scholar as his best hope for success. Over an
enlightening, soul-searching summer, the two form a unique friendship and learn
some important life lessons about loyalty and not judging people by appearances,
when some alarming revelations are made about McLeod’s past.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The lead pair share remarkable
chemistry and the picture is full of moving, memorable moments, but there is a
distinct lack of breathtaking, high-octane action. It is a ‘talky’ film and
very little blows up or is threatened by terrorists. In fact, nobody gets shot or maimed at all, and those expecting
an exciting, explosive explanation for McLeod’s disfigurement will probably be
disappointed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gibson certainly
delivers a towering, commanding performance from under some convincing
prosthesis, proving that he is much more than a simple action man. Happily, his
character is still a bit of a hardass, the kind of guy who helps the kid learn by making
him dig massive holes out back and subjects him to other messy, physically exhausting tasks that help him learn in a fun, roundabout way, kind of like
Mr Miyagi. He may not shoot anyone, but Mel is on heroic form here, taking a big
chance on a poor kid whose ditzy mother has had three kids by three different guys
and who says things like “I’m not cut out for this mothering racket!” McLeod
guides him through a turbulent time by helping him get over his daddy issues
and achieve his dreams, and while the pizza-faced tutor may regularly paint and
recite Shakepseare, it is to Gibson’s credit that the prof always remains rugged, masculine and dangerous, threatening to explode into a frightening fit of rage at any moment.
He maintains a tough, steely exterior, wary of letting anyone in and quietly
simmers away, keeping us guessing as to what his secret is. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When McLeod’s secret
is revealed, despite not involving helicopters or ninjas, it is still a doozy.
Creepy ‘did-he-or-didn’t he?’ revelations about his past and how he came to be
in his current predicament flip his relationship with young Norstadt on its
head, forcing us to question our feelings about their friendship and his
intentions. Brilliantly, Gibson decides to keep things delightfully ambiguous
which makes the film stand out as a daring, provocative debut. For <i>Lethal Weapon</i> fans who have rented this
one by mistake, he even chucks in a bonus glimpse of the wild-eyed Mad Mel we
know and love in a thrilling scene where haunted, exacerbated McLeod
contemplates suicide and plays chicken with an oncoming articulated lorry.
Sadly, the scene does not end in incendiary vehicular carnage, but it is nice
to see Mel throwing the action junkies a bone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Any battles in this
one are either metaphorical or fought in a courtroom with words and truth,
rather than swords and grenades, but the film is still worth a watch, even if
it doesn’t exactly do much to solidify Mel’s badass Hard Bastard credentials. <i>The Man Without a Face</i> was Mel
discovering his groove in the director’s chair, playing it safe before going
all-out with the gargantuan, arsecheek-baring, savage battles of <i>Braveheart</i> and is a small, wonderfully
observed examination of a tender, unlikely friendship. If you like that sort of
thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE RATINGS;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILTY: 2/10 Just one look at him tells you he is
only too human, though he gets points for standing up to persecution.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 1/10 He fights his fights with words and
thoughts. That’s rubbish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 6/10 He heroically takes the kid under his wing
when everyone else has given up. But what about those allegations…?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 4/10 Plays chicken with a big truck! But
that’s it, really. Even the accident that disfigured him sounds kinda crap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODY COUNT: 0 in 115 minutes. Rubbish. 0/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
MEL’S SCORE: A generous 13/50<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-42979510276298341832013-01-03T14:09:00.000-08:002013-01-03T14:09:18.572-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS VOL. 1: INVASION U.S.A (1985)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWRAmkSVKplDgNCRGVbEoKby3gEu-xElNamVgPy-HuW0S8xGki5JiNmhNj9eZsCZbcslXEpItisht524nCj4VfnFIdPb0q5OK6CxOJ_JJZbZIcTA1v7l8AJRBsdC_VLkGqwZ_dHZYQ-M/s1600/invsion+usa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWRAmkSVKplDgNCRGVbEoKby3gEu-xElNamVgPy-HuW0S8xGki5JiNmhNj9eZsCZbcslXEpItisht524nCj4VfnFIdPb0q5OK6CxOJ_JJZbZIcTA1v7l8AJRBsdC_VLkGqwZ_dHZYQ-M/s1600/invsion+usa.jpg" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so it begins…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s New Year’s Day
2013 and I am tired, grumpy and up far too early. But I’m excited, as today is
the day my descent into action movie Hard Bastard insanity begins. Pleasingly, the
first film out of the Tub of Death is a belter: <i>Missing In Action</i> director Joseph Zito’s insane 1985 actioner <i>Invasion U.S.A</i>. Co-written by main star
Chuck Norris, this barmy tale about a one-man-army’s attempts to rescue America
from a full-on terrorist invasion is enjoyable, easy viewing and a perfect
start to my Hard Bastards experiment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Norris is Matt
Hunter, an unfeasibly indomitable semi-retired Special Forces
agent-cum-alligator wrangler, enjoying his solitude in the Florida swamps.
However, when the villainous Rostov - a spy whose life hunter once spared,
under orders from his CIA bosses – plans to unleash a reign of terror on US
soil, Hunter must leave the quiet life behind and return to doing what he does
best: Kicking terrorist butt! These are
terrorists of the worst kind, dispassionately bombing shopping malls, shooting
helpless refugees and vaporizing a suburban neighbourhood…<i>at Christmas!!!</i> While their motives are never really explained, these
are baddies that you desperately want to see punished and Chuck is only too happy
to oblige. This is one of those outrageous Cannon films from the 80s, when action
films were really over-the-top, violent and bloodthirsty – put simply, it’s a berserk,
trigger-happy, forgotten classic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hunter is an action man with a reputation so
great that the villains feel they have to murder him before they even begin
their mission, almost as if they know he’s the only man alive who could stop
them. In fact, Hunter is so damn tough, Rostov – a child-killing, woman-hating
psychopathic sonofabitch – actually has <i>nightmares</i>
about him. Nightmares where instead of shooting him when he has the chance,
Hunter just boots him in the face for fun. He really is quite hard. His cronies
think he’s crazy, but Rostov insists “as long as he’s breathing, he’s a threat!”
Nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ironically, when approached
with intel about the impending situation, the veteran had told his bosses where
to stick the assignment, but when the baddies decide to bazooka his house with
his best pal inside, all bets are off. Hunter is so tough he survives the
assault that completely decimates his house by <i>jumping through a plate glass window</i> and rises from the ashes to
seek REVENGE. It is a truly awesome cinematic moment, as the stoic tough guy
carries his deceased gator-wrangling buddy through the remains of the burning
house, with the most affecting stern expression on his face. It’s this look
that says all we need to know about his character: emanating a grizzled,
world-weariness from his tired eyes, he’s not sad, just disappointed, like he
knew this day would come. The past has caught up with him and it is time to put
things right. There is no time for tears, as Hunter walks straight from the
wreckage to his awesome swamp-cruising airboat and heads off on a collision
course with destiny. It is simultaneously ridiculous and astonishing: a classic
action movie moment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It takes an age for
Chuck to actually kill anyone in this one, but the way things slowly build up
and the more we learn about his character, we just know that when he is called
into action it’s going to be BOOM time. Meeting in a gloriously grimy dive bar,
supercool Hunter finally accepts the assignment, leaving the suits to pick up
his tab. Then, completely fearless, the unflappable warrior drives his jeep straight
through quite possibly the most blood-curdling, dodgiest neighbourhoods on
earth, populated with fearsome pimps, hos, punks, gangbangers and numerous
unsavoury types who attack his car, while barely batting an eyelid. He is
totally focussed - there is only the mission.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he does finally
take on the baddies, the action is suitably riotous. As one guy is stabbed
through the hand for the purpose of extracting information, steely-eyed Hunter <i>dares</i> his muscle-bound lackeys to
intervene, brilliantly goading, “If you come back in here, I’m gonna hit you
with so many rights, you’re gonna beg me for a left!” Their fear is palpable as
after busting a few heads, Hunter signs with his catchphrase: “Tell Rostov…it’s
time to die.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From here on in, it’s
non-stop bonkers action mayhem, with Hunter proving himself to be a seemingly
unstoppable juggernaut of justice. So many bullets are fired at this man, it’s
a wonder he doesn’t get lead poisoning, but time and time again he emerges
unscathed. In fact, I don’t think anyone even gets close to touching him, never
mind hurting him. Whether leaping onto the sides of speeding cars,
single-handedly taking on a helicopter, or removing a bomb from a school bus,
just to chuck it straight back at the bastards who put it there, Hunter emerges
as the quintessential valiant all-American action hero. Constantly putting himself
in the line of fire to rescue those weaker than himself, he is never anything
less than heroic: a determined, swaggering one-man rocket-launching freedom
force, here to clean up the streets. Even in the midst of a thrilling car
chase, where the despicable terrorists hang an innocent girl from the window as
a <i>human shield</i>, Hunter never, ever
looks worried or phased – he’s on the side of the angels and he knows it. It’s
no wonder Melissa Prophet’s gutsy journalist repeatedly refers to him as ‘The
Cowboy.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This mask of utter
coolness never slips, Hunter stalking slowly but confidently from each danger
zone to the next. There is next to zero characterisation in this film, but that
barely matters when you have a hero so tough, so <i>Shaft</i>-supercool that he tells the goddamn CIA what to do. His greatest
moment, though, may just be when, arrested for vigilantism, he is interviewed
on live TV and stares right into the lens to address his nemesis, proclaiming,
almost prophetically, “One night, you’ll close your eyes…and when you open them…I’ll
be there…And then it’ll be time to die.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The carnage is consistently
aesthetically pleasing, with plenty of tanks, choppers, cars and buildings exploding
spectacularly as civil war rages across the country. Norris gets the chance to
wield all sorts of impressive ordnance, including one exceptionally Big Fucking
Gun (B.F.G.), but pleasingly doesn’t forget to showcase the martial arts skills
that made him famous. Running around with two machine guns, Hunter occasionally
throws a few expertly timed kicks in there too, just because it looks cool.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though the furious
final showdown with Rostov takes place in the exceptionally dull surroundings
of an abandoned office building, the battle is nevertheless a cracker, the arch
enemies audaciously squaring off in a ludicrous Mexican standoff with <i>bazookas</i>. As Hunter whispers “It’s time…”
it is a suitably mental crescendo to a wonderfully mental film that shows that
Chuck Norris is one Hard Bastard who it’s going to be difficult to beat. Happy
New Year!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE RATINGS:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
INDESTRUCTIBILITY:
10/10 – This guy is bulletproof<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
COMBAT SKILLS: 7/10 – He kicks major ass, but maybe depends
on his guns too much.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ATTITUDE: 10/10 Unflappable, gallant, hard-as-nails: an
All-American Hero.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OUTRAGEOUSNESS: 8/10 Bazooka fight, anyone?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BODY COUNT: 30 kills in 107 minutes? Solid but unremarkable.
3/10<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
CHUCK’S SCORE: 38/50<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-47894829549669941482012-12-28T09:54:00.002-08:002012-12-28T09:54:58.038-08:00HOLLYWOOD HARD BASTARDS - The Beginning...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuUXikj4OFSWvcWUa_rr0FEuTnJ2-hxyd2isFHiWWTRBIf6f0Za_iOBviaZDPaY8XiT2snU9s8-K8ZiewG99vl3IU3UZZhAy-7hjkf7l0SjLd0WkP07bOja1pBsqqwrrH-WU6XRuVKno/s1600/hard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuUXikj4OFSWvcWUa_rr0FEuTnJ2-hxyd2isFHiWWTRBIf6f0Za_iOBviaZDPaY8XiT2snU9s8-K8ZiewG99vl3IU3UZZhAy-7hjkf7l0SjLd0WkP07bOja1pBsqqwrrH-WU6XRuVKno/s1600/hard.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
HOLLYWOOD HARD
BASTARDS:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A YEAR-LONG MOVIE MISSION<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
by Gary Anderson</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Mission Statement<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They’re unkillable,
unstoppable, unflappable and irresistible. They’re the masters of the
outrageous, racking up unfeasibly high body counts, smirking in the face of
danger, always ready with a sly quip or a blistering pun, right before they
blow the shit out of absolutely everything. Charismatic, stoic and determined,
these Spartans never give up, overcoming unbelievable odds and despicable
villains to save the day. They’re cinema’s greatest warriors, titans who walk
among us, proving time and time again that no problem, however big or small,
can’t be solved without a hearty fistful of dynamic, pulse-quickening,
edge-of-your-seat violence. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They’re the Schwarzeneggers, the Van Dammes, the Stallones.
They’re living legends. They’re Hollywood’s Hardest Bastards.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But who is the
hardest action hero of them all? Which of Hollywood’s toughest, most grizzled
wisecracking bullet-dodgers is more insanely badass than all the rest? <i>The Expendables</i> brought many of the
action greats together, but as a team. How much more fun would that movie have
been if it was one big testosterone-filled battle royale that finally revealed
which gung-ho He-Man is the mightiest of the bunch? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This will be my
quest. Using my own dodgy, quasi-scientific criteria, from January 1<sup>st</sup>
2013 I will be watching and analysing at least one film each day from the back catalogue
of Hollywood’s ten toughest hombres in order to determine, once and for all, by
the law of averages, who is the greatest living ass-kicker of them all. Never
mind which star has made the most films, earned the most money or won the most
awards. This isn’t about artful mise-en-scene or stirring cinematography. This
is about determining, film-for-film, which rock-hard chiselled champion stands
head and shoulders above the rest. Every morning for one whole year, I will
pick one film at random from the Celebrations Tub of Death to chronicle and rate each Hard
Bastard’s performance according to my own carefully considered set of criteria.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This mission will not just involve watching
the classics of the action genre, like <i>Die
Hard</i>, <i>Predator</i> or <i>First Blood</i>, though I will be watching
those too. That would be far too easy. No, in order to be completely fair, this
undertaking must also encompass each star’s cinematic turkeys, their risible
direct-to-video obscurities, and the early career oddities. The only material
ruled out for selection will include TV shows, made-for-TV movies, cameos and
uncredited appearances and the vast majority of appearances in children’s films.
However, if the Hard Bastard has starred in a film where butt has been kicked
or baddies have been blown to smithereens, you can rest assured it will be
included here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE HARD BASTARDS <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, who are our contenders? It was tough to decide (sorry
Snipes), but after much careful deliberation, here, in no particular order, are
the Toughest Ten, each of whom have accrued a significant body of legendary, bone-snapping
action movie work:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Arnold Schwarzenegger was born on July 30, 1947, near Graz,
Austria. With an almost unpronounceable surname and a thick Austrian accent,
who would have ever believed that a brash, quick talking bodybuilder from a
small European village would become one of Hollywood's biggest stars, marry
into the prestigious Kennedy family, amass a fortune via shrewd investments and
one day become the Governor of California? A distinguished Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
MEL GIBSON<o:p></o:p></div>
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Born in Peekskill, NY on January 3, 1956, Mel Gibson moved
to Australia during his youth and went on to pursue a film career. After
appearing in the <i>Mad Max</i> and <i>Lethal Weapon</i> series, Gibson eventually
directed and starred in the Academy Award-winning <i>Braveheart </i>and directed <i>The
Passion of the Christ</i>. Outside of his work, Gibson has been accused of
homophobia, anti-semitism, racism and misogyny. A mad Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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CLINT EASTWOOD</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihFtE_wPiXCU9iNOzxvWNdIXyGpM82BFl3ijsmNUS3Ru0pEUrjM8KOluOfxtG3HKe3zYaKx0PeTD1-wee9H-Mt2vSLXFsu5tpqDE9j0QesXNojgMLenfHUqAVm3lJWuMycbc0OZHo4cTw/s1600/clint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihFtE_wPiXCU9iNOzxvWNdIXyGpM82BFl3ijsmNUS3Ru0pEUrjM8KOluOfxtG3HKe3zYaKx0PeTD1-wee9H-Mt2vSLXFsu5tpqDE9j0QesXNojgMLenfHUqAVm3lJWuMycbc0OZHo4cTw/s1600/clint.jpg" /></a></div>
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Born on May 31, 1930 in San Francisco, California, Clint
Eastwood got his big break starring on the TV western Rawhide. He then became
immensely popular as a tough guy via a string of Sergio Leone movie westerns
and the Dirty Harry franchise. In recent years, Eastwood has directed many
films, including the Academy Award-winning projects <i>Unforgiven</i>, <i>Mystic River,
Million Dollar Baby</i> and <i>Changeling.</i>
An old school Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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BRUCE WILLIS</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFI2bwXrJZQJ0qppeA_qSHyS2MaiZJPVpQ3nUaG47kaRlSIlBQZnmH7bxJ0qG4vm0vJl5LFSsdak_W9gVC4PekDECQ714HPyhO2_QgdRntjpK9VQaYXqUwpuPXUI8YpC8wlsebmYU6ho/s1600/bruce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFI2bwXrJZQJ0qppeA_qSHyS2MaiZJPVpQ3nUaG47kaRlSIlBQZnmH7bxJ0qG4vm0vJl5LFSsdak_W9gVC4PekDECQ714HPyhO2_QgdRntjpK9VQaYXqUwpuPXUI8YpC8wlsebmYU6ho/s1600/bruce.jpg" /></a></div>
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Born Walter Bruce Willison on March 19, 1955, in West Germany,
Bruce Willis's career was launched when he played wisecracking David Addison on
TV's Moonlighting opposite Cybill Shepherd. In the summer of 1988, <i>Die Hard</i>, an action-packed flick that
cast Willis as the muscle-pumping hero, hit movie screens with a bang, and his
status as a bona fide movie star was minted.
A cocky Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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JASON STATHAM</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq00iHbN45iowo4pjU0GLzbPXG4b8_27k2b0qgDsv722EvieckIc9X0qdyJ9kOTaj2OH3pJXKbyker_4lhSH0a84Zxn8u0VuMsyEnT0G-rCxhh5sK9mdSGGcvSSzQ7ydO2Bx7qJjiwOYU/s1600/statham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq00iHbN45iowo4pjU0GLzbPXG4b8_27k2b0qgDsv722EvieckIc9X0qdyJ9kOTaj2OH3pJXKbyker_4lhSH0a84Zxn8u0VuMsyEnT0G-rCxhh5sK9mdSGGcvSSzQ7ydO2Bx7qJjiwOYU/s1600/statham.jpg" /></a></div>
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English born, Syndenham, London raised, Statham is the
second son of a dancer and a lounge singer. Although he had artistic talent
running through his veins, he instead focused on his athletic abilities at the
high dive. His diving abilities were so impressive that he joined the British
Olympic team in 1988 in Seoul, Korea. After 10 years in the National Diving
Squad, a talent agent led him to the modeling industry. Broke into acting in
such an unconventional way, Jason Statham has really found his path in the film
industry through his work in action pictures like <i>The Transporter</i> and soared to be one of the most popular actors of
the genre by the 21st century. The young upstart Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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STEVEN SEAGAL</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihT8NkCcsi0-YWHZZrgMq3YlVtR2ZSniZ9HlhUP7G3-09yWKjbAbtIlBuuU-m-wuRFld3g5VJ5WW-zjPgqKn396sMELy1labNnl95fUs6Alo8jltY9PoOAdWHM4QyEApLgL2cwuJLQiJU/s1600/seagal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihT8NkCcsi0-YWHZZrgMq3YlVtR2ZSniZ9HlhUP7G3-09yWKjbAbtIlBuuU-m-wuRFld3g5VJ5WW-zjPgqKn396sMELy1labNnl95fUs6Alo8jltY9PoOAdWHM4QyEApLgL2cwuJLQiJU/s1600/seagal.jpg" /></a></div>
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He's an action superstar surrounded by controversy and
crime. Steven Fredric Seagal was born on 10 April 1952 in Lansing, Michigan
where he lived until he was five years old. Seagal started his martial arts
training at the age of seven, travelling to Japan at the age of 17, where he
taught English and perfected his martial arts skills, paving the way for him to
work his way into the movie industry. He skyrocketed to fame in 1988 with an
action-packed debut in <i>Above the Law</i>,
but long before then, he was known to martial arts insiders as the first
Caucasian to open his own aikido dojo in Japan. Also an accomplished and celebrated
musician. A cultured Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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JEAN-CLAUDE VAN DAMME</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMdO0W8HKMVr2d8l2zM9emr2-A76tt5cl9Jc6DHULZbzy2CBsOerQPoRQTb1BUt6g8nXXkyUuOpWma3ws5yE0JEjlqTpmJKGrN4U-ru5QPz-IIHay6hY7_qZ_YApv-7FMedlu_z464SI/s1600/jcvd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMdO0W8HKMVr2d8l2zM9emr2-A76tt5cl9Jc6DHULZbzy2CBsOerQPoRQTb1BUt6g8nXXkyUuOpWma3ws5yE0JEjlqTpmJKGrN4U-ru5QPz-IIHay6hY7_qZ_YApv-7FMedlu_z464SI/s1600/jcvd.jpg" /></a></div>
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Jean-Claude Camille François Van Varenberg, better known to
movie audiences as JCVD, ‘The Muscles from Brussels,’ is a Belgian martial artist,
actor, and director best known for his martial arts action films. After
studying martial arts intensively from the age of ten, Van Damme achieved
national success in Belgium as a martial artist and bodybuilder. He emigrated
to the United States in 1982 to pursue a career in film, and achieved success
with <i>Bloodsport</i>. His martial arts
assets, highlighted by his ability to deliver a kick to an opponent's head
during a leaping 360-degree turn, and his good looks led to starring roles in
higher budgeted movies like <i>Cyborg</i>, <i>A.W.O.L.: Absent Without Leave</i>, and <i>Universal Soldier</i>. Most recently seen
hamming it up in dodgy beer commercials. A roundhouse-kicking Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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DOLPH LUNDGREN</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkkDX6H7lLcZB-KIGgIuhdukg7rqwzeHPCCsiFB2hQDWjR0D7Y5IPjSrCkZcuT_JmfH16QEL1nGh8ApnVek3AdQWKpomH93NqtOuFFOIxADyD1zmHyFY7LilGbmHExnh6OQQ053DUblg/s1600/dolph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkkDX6H7lLcZB-KIGgIuhdukg7rqwzeHPCCsiFB2hQDWjR0D7Y5IPjSrCkZcuT_JmfH16QEL1nGh8ApnVek3AdQWKpomH93NqtOuFFOIxADyD1zmHyFY7LilGbmHExnh6OQQ053DUblg/s1600/dolph.jpg" /></a></div>
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A graduate in chemistry from Washington State University,
chemical engineering from the Royal Institute of Technology in Stockholm and
the University of Sydney in Sydney, Australia in 1982, Lundgren holds a rank of
3rd dan black belt in Kyokushin Karate and was European champion in 1980 and
1981. While in Sydney, he became a bodyguard for Jamaican singer Grace Jones
and began a relationship with her. They moved together to New York City, where
after a short stint as a model and bouncer at the Manhattan nightclub The
Limelight, Jones got him a small debut role in the James Bond film <i>A View to a Kill</i>. Lundgren's
breakthrough came when he starred in <i>Rocky
IV</i> in 1985 as the imposing Russian boxer Ivan Drago. Since then, he has
starred in more than 40 movies, almost all of them in the action genre. So hard,
masked burglars abandoned a robbery after discovering the home they had
targeted was his. Smart thieves, and a smart Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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CHUCK NORRIS</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8ikaMjzpZrEg5xb5PxpuCBTWjHSwa3CmJ0llLMlRb_3TvrHRx1FiZia9tk3y_6QV1aNFIp7n310d9qBwOqe7NVhyLiOnaywAMK80vgAmHCAmDhtPTg-qNPKgBdlP23rwUF9o-ho-roA/s1600/chuck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8ikaMjzpZrEg5xb5PxpuCBTWjHSwa3CmJ0llLMlRb_3TvrHRx1FiZia9tk3y_6QV1aNFIp7n310d9qBwOqe7NVhyLiOnaywAMK80vgAmHCAmDhtPTg-qNPKgBdlP23rwUF9o-ho-roA/s1600/chuck.jpg" /></a></div>
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Born on March 10, 1940, Chuck Norris started studying
martial arts in Korea in the 1950s. He was serving in the U.S. Air Force at the
time. When he returned home, Norris soon opened his karate studio. He switched
to movies in the 1970s, appearing with Bruce Lee in <i>Return of the Dragon</i>. Norris became a popular action-film star in
the 1980s, and starred in his own television series in the 1990s. Chuck Norris
doesn’t call the wrong number. You answer the wrong phone. A legendary Hard
Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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SYLVESTER STALLONE</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAK-sKvF3DqWQ5Qv8YY1zW5foiVhmplztqgSuN-p7fr_BsxzqmnAX70XrN2cKDFapvqW1e8-ASPVvjq1iiNQyxpRhnkpVtpOLYht-y2b491vcHyiBFsKXihR4NyOJ_m9HeIDuHfxeEyQ/s1600/stallone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAK-sKvF3DqWQ5Qv8YY1zW5foiVhmplztqgSuN-p7fr_BsxzqmnAX70XrN2cKDFapvqW1e8-ASPVvjq1iiNQyxpRhnkpVtpOLYht-y2b491vcHyiBFsKXihR4NyOJ_m9HeIDuHfxeEyQ/s1600/stallone.jpg" /></a></div>
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Born on July 6, 1946, in New York City, Sylvester Stallone
is one of the most popular Hollywood action stars of all time, playing such
iconic characters as John Rambo and Rocky Balboa. Stallone got his start
writing and starring in <i>Rocky</i>, going
on to become one of Hollywood's highest paid actors, usually playing
monosyllabic, anti-society, underdog heroes and also known for his machismo.
Stallone is an American actor, screenwriter, film director, filmmaker and
occasional painter. While Stallone has attempted to extend his range into film
comedies and drama, his real box office success continues in action films. The
underdog Hard Bastard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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THE CRITERIA <o:p></o:p></div>
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The big question is, how have these ten titans managed to
endure? What qualities have ensured that these are the guys who immediately
spring to mind when we think of bullet-riddled, high-octane, skull-cracking
movie mayhem?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rated out of ten,
the first of five criteria of judgement for considering a Hard Bastard’s
kickass credentials will be INDESTRUCTIBILITY. A true hero dominates,
consistently overcoming unbelievable odds. Men fear, respect and obey them and
women want them, as they are so damn tough as to appear nigh-on unkillable,
battling on, despite life-threatening injury, through storms of bullets, in the
name of truth, justice or good old-fashioned survival. A real action star
displays a superhuman, tenacious bouncebackability that sets him apart from the
pack. Put simply, he <i>cannot</i> be
stopped.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our heroes will also
be judged on the impressiveness of their COMBAT SKILLS. Far from being simple
bruisers, these hardmen dispatch their prey with grace confidence and a
sleekness that turns killing into a gorgeous, balletic art-form. The Hard
Bastard does everything with style and force, but when he’s on his game, there
is nothing forced about it. Be it by kung fu, household implements or just a
bloody big gun, extra points will be awarded for any bloodshed that involves a
healthy dose of aesthetically pleasing, expertly choreographed imaginative
creativity.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3JNV0nUGwJyrpLIBoq8_YsID4POSrymVuoPsvKEL_sDS4FOfZxUhIgzIinIyXInHxwo9g1xDn7fEdrf2gQchCUf2hyJteDIXce6XaFhyOYN5YH2AS-E6p1_I-2pOMuEHeJX120LBHMw/s1600/combat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3JNV0nUGwJyrpLIBoq8_YsID4POSrymVuoPsvKEL_sDS4FOfZxUhIgzIinIyXInHxwo9g1xDn7fEdrf2gQchCUf2hyJteDIXce6XaFhyOYN5YH2AS-E6p1_I-2pOMuEHeJX120LBHMw/s1600/combat.jpg" /></a></div>
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Also important is a
Hard Bastard’s ATTITUDE – his view on life and the set of values that he
embodies. True heroes display courage, commitment and honour, cutting a swathe
through red tape and bureaucratic bullshit to do what’s right, no matter how
difficult it may be. More often than not these hardy hotshots do all this with
a smile on their face and a killer wisecrack on the tip of their tongue,
exuding an inner and outer strength that lets the bad guys know exactly who the
baddest cat in the room is. Of course, there will be extra points for
pitch-perfect puns and effortless success with the ladies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The fourth important
quality for consideration in this battle of badassery is that which makes the
hero truly memorable: his sheer OUTRAGEOUSNESS. These warriors stand out in history
because, with a little movie magic, their actions often verge, quite
brilliantly, on the sheer ridiculous. Whether they’re displaying a
MacGuyver-like resourcefulness for getting themselves out of difficult scrapes,
or pulling off insane, death-defying stunts, these guys consistently prove that
they are capable of far more than mere mortals. From leaping from great heights
to taking out helicopters with speeding automobiles, these Hard Bastards leave
their mark, casually doing the sorts of things we can only dream of, the kind
of insane, inspiring action that makes you leap from your seat and punch the
air with a hearty ‘HELL YEAH!’ These guys blow stuff up in the most spectacular
ways, assuring their immortality, and suffice to say, points will be awarded
for inspired ludicrousness.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSvv3xH6drV1jFZCcdoPQ0ExMM6vV1vy2ihUpncVANYDWQtbOlB97QMGLHbC6IgsUHxPbwX84dQR_mFQjcOhZUxZCNu7af8xntKyXXsQaxrod9fmaYXyDWCi4eDMWzcMhY51Zol9vP30/s1600/chopper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSvv3xH6drV1jFZCcdoPQ0ExMM6vV1vy2ihUpncVANYDWQtbOlB97QMGLHbC6IgsUHxPbwX84dQR_mFQjcOhZUxZCNu7af8xntKyXXsQaxrod9fmaYXyDWCi4eDMWzcMhY51Zol9vP30/s1600/chopper.jpg" /></a></div>
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Finally, each
hard-boiled hero will be judged on the scale of their cinematic BODYCOUNT.
Plain and simple, a true action star gains his stripes by offing a whole heap
of bad guys and I will be counting each and every kill in every movie. Points
will be awarded appropriately, determined by kills-per-minute in relation to
the standard set by Stallone in <i>Rambo</i>
(2008) with 87 kills in 92 minutes(!) It’s science, folks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, there you have
it. I am about to embark on what I hope will be an exciting, entertaining,
enlightening and life-changing journey. It’s going to be one hell of a year and
God knows how I am going to manage to squeeze in an action flick <i>every single day</i> (I just got engaged –
uh oh!) but it’s going to be fun finding out! Of course much of my findings
will be purely subjective, but by this time next year, I will hope to prove,
once and for all, who is the toughest hardest bastard in the universe.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yippie Ki Yay, movie-lovers!<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-3986727985392669312012-10-29T08:00:00.002-07:002012-10-29T08:00:36.348-07:00MOVIEBOOZER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiynQ28PRQZke3CWuzUe5sFFJnUm0mjxyLotHjgBSlWed2pOVLl4erxIDSIlgpoR9QNGfqLaDlsgiSnbB4ArYTXNymAI7iSFAn177iqSfjn8cfgZDK-CEDf8geqnlE4vKP5g9NmFIYgxE/s1600/tank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiynQ28PRQZke3CWuzUe5sFFJnUm0mjxyLotHjgBSlWed2pOVLl4erxIDSIlgpoR9QNGfqLaDlsgiSnbB4ArYTXNymAI7iSFAn177iqSfjn8cfgZDK-CEDf8geqnlE4vKP5g9NmFIYgxE/s1600/tank.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Check out these reviews I have contributed to Movieboozer.com!<br />
Get some beers in and enjoy.<br />
Halloween III: Season of the Witch:<br />
<a href="http://movieboozer.com/2012/10/24/halloween-iii-season-witch-1982-2/">http://movieboozer.com/2012/10/24/halloween-iii-season-witch-1982-2/</a><br />
The Blair Witch Project:<br />
<a href="http://movieboozer.com/2012/10/19/blair-witch-project-1999/">http://movieboozer.com/2012/10/19/blair-witch-project-1999/</a><br />
Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2:<br />
<a href="http://movieboozer.com/2012/10/19/book-shadows-blair-witch-2-2000/">http://movieboozer.com/2012/10/19/book-shadows-blair-witch-2-2000/</a><br />
<br />garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-64534491824100986542012-10-14T10:56:00.003-07:002012-10-14T10:57:43.579-07:00SLANTED AND ENCHANTED - THE FAIRY TALE MOVIE RENAISSANCE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Once upon a time, in a faraway
realm called Hollywoodland, there lived a powerful mogul. He had a wonderful
looking-glass, and he stood in front of it and looked at himself in it, and
said, “Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall, what’s a safe bet for a
gigantic financial haul?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Magically flickering to life, the looking-glass answered, “Fairy Tale
Movies, my king. The punters will love them.” And the king was satisfied, for
he knew that the mirror spoke the truth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
“Oh, and get Kristen Stewart,” the
looking-glass added, “She’s so hot right now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
2012 is fast becoming the Year of the Fairy Tale. Locked away in their
castles, the movie men have been engaged in some kind of sorcery, with at least
fifteen major big-screen adaptations of classic fables currently in production
and a slew of others in development, after Tim Burton’s surprise billion-dollar
box-office success with 2010’s vivid <i>Alice
in Wonderland</i> opened the eyes of many a magnate to the commercial
possibilities of these enduring, classic tales. This year, audiences have
already been treated to two decidedly divergent versions of Snow White, in the
shape of Tarsem Singh’s family-friendly Julia Roberts vehicle <i>Mirror Mirror</i>, and Rupert Sanders’
markedly morose Kristen Stewart starrer, <i>Snow
White and the Huntsman</i>. Though <i>Mirror…</i>,
with its jaunty musical numbers and mugging Nathan Lane faltered at the box
office, the $300 million gross of the far more austere <i>…Huntsman</i> has proven that there remains something positively
spellbinding about the fairy tale formula that is built to last.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Already on the slate for this year is <i>Usual Suspects</i> helmer Bryan Singer’s big budget vision of <i>Jack the Giant Killer</i>, featuring <i>X-Men: First Class</i> star Nicholas Hoult
battling Bill Nighy’s 22 foot tall CGI ogre. Hot on its enormous heels comes
the ridiculously high concept <i>Hansel and
Gretel: Witch Hunters</i>, with <i>Avengers</i>’
Jeremy Renner and <i>Prince of Persia</i>’s
Gemma Arterton as adult, bloodthirsty bounty-hunter versions of the eponymous
duo, suggesting there’s plenty of mileage left in these age-old fables.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Accounting for their bewitching popularity, Jack Zipes, one of the
leading authorities on fairy tales, wrote in his book, <i>What Dreams Come True</i>, that these stories emanate from ‘specific
struggles to humanise bestial and barbaric forces which have terrorised our
minds and communities in concrete ways, threatening to destroy free will and
human compassion. The fairy tale sets out to conquer this concrete terror
through <i>metaphors</i>.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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Deep stuff, but for many, Zipes’ words surely ring true. These are the
tales we are told as children, imparting wisdom, fostering development and
helping us work through confusion and anxiety in a sugar-coated ‘once upon a
time’ way. Thanks to Walt Disney’s ‘safe’, technicolour animated
interpretations, and the straightforward way they deal with common truths and
feelings, stories like <i>Cinderella</i> and
<i>The Little Mermaid </i>carry a
comfortable predictability and will forever hold an important place in the
collective subconscious, remaining ripe for artistic reinvention.<o:p></o:p></div>
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By taking universally understood symbols, or archetypes – think ‘witch’,
‘prince’, ‘princess’, ‘magic beans/sword/whatever’ – these familiar yarns, in
the hands of different storytellers, can be eternally recycled in strange new
settings, yet can always be relied on to deliver certain fundamental, familiar
features. Some symbols, like ‘Jack’s beanstalk’ will always be an integral
component of their respective tales, and Dr Laura Martin, a senior lecturer in
Comparative Literature at the University of Glasgow, and an expert on Grimm
tales, has reflected on the significance of these enduring motifs: ‘There’s a
huge growth going up into the sky…why is that? It’s connecting earth to the
sky. It’s the realm of something <i>beyond
the human</i>, so it’s that connection with something bigger…Psychologically,
it’s brilliant. So, life is boring, life is dull, but what if I made it to that
magical realm?’ Escapism is a huge part of our movie-going experience and with
our ticket, we purchase more than just entertainment – these tales, when told
well, bring us that little bit closer to
the kingdom of our dreams. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The malleability of these stories, stemming
from centuries of retellings, has recently seen filmmakers cook up all manner
of curious interpretations. Last year, Catherine Hardwicke’s <i>Red Riding Hood</i> attempted to distil the
success of her yearning, sexually-charged, pretty young things <i>Twilight</i> template into the fairy tale
mould, delivering a thoroughly ridiculous, yet straight-faced guilty pleasure.
Likewise, Julia Leigh’s provocative <i>Sleeping
Beauty</i> tapped into and drastically amplified the eroticism of the classic
tale, ensuring audiences would never be able to look at <i>Lemony Snicket</i>’s Emily Browning in quite the same way again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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These mouldable, magical tales have been around for as long as stories
have been told, but it is surely a sign of the times that so many remarkable
renditions are sailing into cinemas at once. In an industry currently banking
the big money on sequels, franchises and remakes, the public’s fondness for fairy
tales must seem like a license to print money. But what is it that compels us
to return to them, time and time again?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Martin argues that, in morally ambiguous
times, they teach us how to be
upstanding citizens: ‘What we have now as fairy tales were probably once told
round the fireside…people singing, telling tales, doing jokes, but they’re
somehow making meaning. They’re learning how to behave and how not to behave.
That’s a basic fairy tale message – do the right thing at the right time.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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This relevance of fairy tales as moral
parables could be vital in explaining the renaissance of all things fantastic.
An important touchstone for Martin is the work of Carl Jung, who believed that
a ‘collective consciousness,’ including values shared by all human beings, can
be revealed through the peculiar symbols and archetypes found in our favourite
fantasy tales. Referencing the stuttering economy, she explains, ‘everything’s
falling apart and maybe it’s giving us this kind of core…that we all want the
same thing and we magically hone in on the same sort of tale.’ In these
uncertain times, perhaps we all need the solace of happy endings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It can be no coincidence that many of these
retellings, particularly Sanders’ <i>…Huntsman,</i>
with its gruesome visuals and Charlize Theron’s genuinely terrifying
villainess, are returning these tales to decidedly darker territory than Uncle
Walt ever envisioned. It’s easy to forget that before Disney gave it a
facelift, the Brothers Grimm’s <i>Snow White
</i>featured an evil queen who heartily devoured vital bodily organs and who
got her comeuppance by being forced to dance in red-hot slippers until she fell
down dead. Though Sanders’ picture isn’t quite so macabre, it is notable that
the relatively austere …<i>Huntsman</i>,
with its kingdom in turmoil offering gloomy parallels with riot strewn streets
of contemporary ‘Broken Britain,’ fared far better than Singh’s whimsical <i>Mirror Mirror. </i>This gritty gloominess
could well be the key to convincing audiences that these tales still have
something to offer. Certainly, Chris <i>Thor</i>
Hemsworth’s gruff, axe-swinging Huntsman offered more to tempt hesitant males
into cinemas than Arnie Hammer’s doltish Prince, and Gemma Arterton’s assertion
in a recent <i>Entertainment Weekly</i>
interview, that<i> Hansel…</i> will be ‘very
dark and bloodthirsty,’ with a ‘Tarantino feel,’ cannot have harmed the film’s
chances with the male demographic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The success of films, like <i>…Huntsman,</i> could also have much to do
with the emergence of tougher, aspirational female leads. Martin believes the ‘Disneyfied’ versions of
these tales did women no favours, explaining that ‘with sweet little birds
flying around, with Snow white helping the dwarves do their housework,
basically, she’s a little housewife. So any sort of energy in her as a heroine is
gone.’ The Girl Power, however, is strong with teen-icon Kristen Stewart, and
this is perhaps another reason why <i>…Huntsman</i>’s
assertive, armoured championess has caused such a stir with movie-goers.
‘There’s no copyright to telling stories,’ Martin continues, ‘but you can
rightly talk about what gets lost in some versions.’ These are films about women claiming back the
‘energy’ that years of ‘Disneyfied’ retellings have drained from them. These are tales of peasant revolt, about the
little guy sticking a finger up at wicked rulers. The key to the fairy tale
renaissance could be that in these troubled times, the grown-ups have decided
it’s time to reclaim these fables that have long been censored and sanitised by
market forces. By returning them to their roots as folk-tales shared by adults,
the potential for action, adventure and thrills can be restored, with a
satisfying dose of sticking-it-to-The-Man that keeps everyone happy. Seemingly,
just the right witches’ brew of revolutionary escapism, nostalgia and
cross-gender appeal can keep the studios laying golden goose eggs for a while
yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A list of impending releases longer than Rapunzel’s tangled locks,
including Guillermo del Toro’s mooted take on <i>Beauty and the Beast</i> and Tim Burton’s gestating <i>Pinocchio</i> project, should be evidence
enough that the cherished, infinitely adaptable fairy tale movie template
continues to represent a suitably ‘safe bet’ for the studios. These were tales
told round the campfire, never set in stone, but mutating, adapting and
enduring as a sign of the times, and as long as we want to return to these
enchanted kingdoms, Hollywood will happily keep conjuring new ways to grant our
wishes.<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-49914452888730120752012-09-25T14:39:00.004-07:002012-09-25T14:39:40.730-07:00LIKE CRAZY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin9lJEFTsdEnpveGZ85y1yxGgLmz6YYrQs8Hq3Y3NjcAheR5z3xlfZqVUqOwD3meDHzaOtoyUcoz8JEqtVJalR5qJ6T-3Sq8kuN0uMqicPobfUvDPmEk6JInQPa9xNmdStSYHykjCYTuo/s1600/like+crazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin9lJEFTsdEnpveGZ85y1yxGgLmz6YYrQs8Hq3Y3NjcAheR5z3xlfZqVUqOwD3meDHzaOtoyUcoz8JEqtVJalR5qJ6T-3Sq8kuN0uMqicPobfUvDPmEk6JInQPa9xNmdStSYHykjCYTuo/s1600/like+crazy.jpg" /></a></div>
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Love can be a moment’s madness. In Drake Doremus’ melancholy
drama, idealistic English college student Anna (<i>Chalet Girl</i>’s Felicity Jones) foolishly overstays her US visa after
falling hard for charming Californian carpenter Jacob (<i>Fright Night</i>’s Anton Yelchin). When they’re separated, with Anna
banned from entering America, what follows is an agonising study of a
relationship in freefall.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Their initial
courtship adeptly captures those intoxicating, butterflies-in-the-tummy moments
of first love, all intimate close-ups of reticent half-smiles and hopeful
glances. Yet, just as giddy, giggly flirtation gives way to heart-wrenching
transatlantic yearning, months, then years parted by red tape sees their
wide-eyed romantic innocence slowly disintegrate into awkward, frustrated
uncertainty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There are brief,
blissful vacation reunions, but through all the stop-starting, the young lovers
discover it’s difficult to simply press pause on life. Throughout, Doremus’
astute mise en scene gradually widens the literal space between the couple, sat
separately on public transport, or strolling yards apart following a lover’s
tiff, reflecting the growing rift in their hearts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Time, too, is
presented as fleeting, with one impressively edited visual sequence seeing the
twosome’s rapturous ‘summer in bed’ pass by in a depressing matter of seconds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jones and Yelchin
deliver commandingly mature performances, authentically encapsulating the
fatigue of their star-crossed union. When Jacob has Anna’s beloved writing
chair shipped to London as a surprise, Jones’ muted, half-hearted enthusiasm is
so perfectly measured, you can practically see the passion begin to dissipate.
Similarly, Yelchin plays wounded very well, his forlorn, puppy dog eyes
effectively communicating Jacob’s inner anguish.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Reminiscent of Derek
Cianfrance’s similarly morose<i> Blue
Valentine</i>, it is a brutal, affecting watch, though Jacob’s refusal to
simply move to London makes Anna’s infatuation difficult to swallow. Although
the couple’s blind naïvete may occasionally make you feel like knocking their
heads together, this is a sober, bittersweet picture for anyone who’s ever been
heartbroken.<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-12703996470446416762012-09-25T14:34:00.001-07:002012-09-25T14:34:08.363-07:00THE GREY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Former Jedi, Liam Neeson channels his inner Bear Grylls for
Joe Carnahan’s engagingly cerebral action thriller about a group of roughneck
plane-crash survivors battling for survival against savage wolves in the
Alaskan wilderness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The brooding, sombre
tone is more reminiscent of Carnahan’s earlier work on the grim, gritty <i>Narc</i>, than the hyperactive, bubblegum,
explodey silliness of <i>The A-Team</i>,
instilling proceedings with a genuine sense of peril. One of cinema’s most
unsettling ever plane crash sequences is viewed entirely from Neeson’s
point-of-view, not once cutting outside the fuselage, the spectacular set-piece
typifying the measured style Carnahan employs throughout.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Filmed on location,
the merciless conditions and sparse lighting give an authentic impression of
seclusion in the expansive, unforgiving tundra, and there are plenty of
gripping, heart-in-mouth moments with Neeson plunging off cliffs and through
frozen rivers to escape his relentless predatory pursuers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The wolves
themselves, an effective, shrewd mix of CGI and animatronics are glimpsed only
fleetingly, with eloquent sound design proving indispensable in the unrelenting
build-up of tension. The slightest creak in the distance inspires absolute
panic, the omnipresent howling a bleak reminder that time is running out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though the modest
lighting occasionally makes it difficult to discern exactly who is being
devoured, and supporting players are not sufficiently fleshed-out to make us
really care when they do become wolf-fodder, Carnahan still delivers a
thrilling and unexpectedly profound experience. The narrative is punctuated by
brief, jarring, hyper-stylistic dream sequences, including one
emotion-pummelling scene involving a long-haired little girl that provides
heartbreaking, poetic insight into one survivor’s fractured psyche.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But ultimately, this
is the Neeson show and the man who, since 2006’s <i>Taken</i>, has become the studios’ seasoned, grizzled, vulnerable
hardman of choice, and who reportedly took freezing cold showers to prepare, is
superb throughout. Disconsolate eyes hint at inner torment with his world-weary
huntsman lending real gravitas to an endurance tale that proves far more
emotionally devastating than its action-packed, wolf-punching marketing
campaign might have you believe.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Filming in
belligerent conditions, production must have made for an unforgettable
experience, making the lack of extra ‘making-of’ features all the more
disappointing. Deleted scenes, including a stunning polar bear encounter and
extended campfire parlance give some background, and gravel-voiced Carnahan’s
droll commentary offers some involving insight on the arduous shoot. However,
with a distinct lack of bonus Neeson, this flimsy package feels like a
frustrating opportunity missed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>EXTRAS>Commentary
>Deleted Scenes<o:p></o:p></b></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-35298787900294080752012-09-25T07:49:00.001-07:002012-09-25T07:49:40.453-07:00UWE BOLL, ANTICHRIST?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEocIq9p7l1KPK1uTEpxQu3oeaXjSwgGpJot6KPWSTaFIHfev_y9h5ZSrVbNXFWVFvvx0nJnmULlTosQDC9dfbxvsTBoMHm0BKPbP5c7Wo6uTwQAiec_H5bsCNXIr6eRlhevN50Ioqk4/s1600/antichrist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEocIq9p7l1KPK1uTEpxQu3oeaXjSwgGpJot6KPWSTaFIHfev_y9h5ZSrVbNXFWVFvvx0nJnmULlTosQDC9dfbxvsTBoMHm0BKPbP5c7Wo6uTwQAiec_H5bsCNXIr6eRlhevN50Ioqk4/s1600/antichrist.jpg" /></a></div>
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13 February 2011 saw the Berlin
premiere of German director Uwe Boll’s solemn Holocaust docu-drama <i>Auschwitz</i>. For the filmmaker, often
described as a ‘schlockmeister,’ and best known for campy, critically-reviled,
low-budget videogame adaptations like 2003’s <i>House of the Dead</i>, this picture marked the zenith of his efforts in
recent years to make more sober, sensitive pictures that might see audiences
take him more seriously. In an interview with <i>Die Welt</i> newspaper, Boll proclaimed, ‘for a director like me, who
is known for his explicit depictions of violence, it’s my duty to use precisely
this talent to show people the atrocities of the Nazis.’ Unfortunately for
Boll, it was widely reported that a number of critics would boycott the
picture, with many fearing that, based on the director’s reputation, the film
could not be anything other than horribly exploitative. Supporting her
decision, journalist Sophie Albers wrote in <i>Stern</i>
magazine: ‘The words ‘Auschwitz’ and ‘Uwe Boll’ in one breath leads one to fear
the worst.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Here was a remarkable case of a filmmaker who
had somehow managed to accrue such a groundswell of ill-feeling against himself
that, in spite of his alleged attempts to turn a corner, his work could be
condemned without even being seen. Despite industriously churning out close to
twenty films in the last decade and managing to attract big name talent such as
Ray Liotta, Jason Statham and Oscar winner Sir Ben Kingsley, Boll, helmer of
this year’s forthcoming <i>Age of Greed: The
Bailout</i>, has become a decidedly unique hate figure in the movie business –
the cinematic equivalent of Lucifer himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i>Auschwitz</i> would go straight-to-DVD in
the UK, to very little fanfare and, like the majority of Boll’s recent
pictures, would quickly fade into obscurity. A search on RottenTomatoes.com
will yield just one review for the film, the director’s reputation being such
that most critics now apparently choose to simply turn a blind eye. The
existence of anti-Boll websites, like the ominously titled
‘UweBollIsAntichrist.com,’ as well as a highly publicised online petition
imploring Boll to ‘stop directing, producing, or taking part in the creation of
feature films,’ is evidence that it is not just the press who dislike him. But
how did his reputation become so sullied? Boll’s few defenders do not claim his
films are works of art, but they certainly feel that the filmmaker is far from
the ‘antichrist’ figure he is made out to be. In an age where audiences are
increasingly seeking movie knowledge online, there is an argument that public
and critical opinion has been perhaps too easily swayed by the roarings of the
passionate coordinators of an internet witch hunt, whose exclamations are
getting louder and louder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Many of Boll’s films, predominantly
low-budget, blood spattered genre fare, are amongst the lowest rated entries on
the Internet Movie Database, a forum where many users have chosen to vent their
vexations on the filmmaker. Boll himself has often publicly blamed such forums
for unfairly ‘sabotaging’ his career and in one message published on IMDb on
January 13, 2008 he claimed users have successfully used the messageboards to
‘help destroy me.’ The filmmaker claims, ‘You hate me, you write against me,
you hate my movies and you made the critics hate me and you made the theaters
not believing in me [sic].’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Boll’s tirade appears to be more than simple
paranoia, as an exploration of these IMDb messageboards, where passions often
run high, reveals a culture where users, many admitting to not having actually
seen Boll’s films, appear to be actively disparaging them, awarding them low
ratings, whilst imploring others to avoid them. On the <i>Auschwitz</i> board, one poster with the handle ‘matt-282,’ writes
‘It’s a movie directed by Uwe Boll, avoid it at all costs! DO NO watch! [sic],’
before confessing, ‘I wouldn’t watch this movie even if someone bribed me.’
Another user, mccutch22, actually posts: ‘If things got to a point where people
vote down his movies just for the hell of it, there’s a reason, right? He
deserves it.’ These are just two of a multitude of derogatory posts aimed at
the filmmaker that make for provocative reading.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
A quick glance at Boll’s filmography may lead to initial mild bafflement
as to where this negativity has come from. His early career had been relatively
inconspicuous, helming a stream of forgettable, cheap indie thrillers such as <i>Sanctimony</i> (2000) and <i>Blackwoods</i> (2001). Boll was just another
nondescript overseer of unremarkable direct-to-video fare, earmarked by cursory
plotting, wooden performances and lacklustre camerawork, yet peppered with just
enough sex and violent mayhem to make for an easy, if unmemorable watch.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then in 2003, Boll’s production company, Boll KG, acquired the rights to
popular Sega videogame <i>The House of the
Dead</i>, piquing the interest of the franchise’s large, loyal fan base. The
zombie horror was the director’s first feature to gain a stateside cinematic
release and was heavily marketed towards the game’s hopeful legion of
followers. Sadly for Boll, his directorial inadequacies were exposed with a
very high-profile flop littered with risible dialogue, nonsensical plotting and
ludicrous monster make-up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The failure of <i>House…</i>
triggered an outpouring of scorn, and the birth of the ‘New Ed Wood’ tag that
the filmmaker would struggle to shrug off. Yet, Boll bounced back in 2005 with
another videogame adaptation, the Christian Slater horror <i>Alone in the Dark</i>. Again,
the reviews were generally disastrous, and the ire of the videogame diehards
was provoked to new levels by a film that many argued bore scant similarity to
the source material. Online, fans articulated their rage, condemning Boll’s
pictures as inferior imitations of the games they loved, adding fuel to a hate
campaign that has snowballed, blighting the director’s career. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Though many sub-par videogame adaptations like <i>Mortal Kombat</i> (1995), have found a cult following among gaming
enthusiasts, one of the largest stumbling blocks for Boll, who has gone on to
direct a further seven games adaptations, has been that the gamers have
actually been his harshest critics. Dedicated fans can become extremely
enamoured with their favourite titles, ensuring any adaptation will have a lot
to live up to. Many will hope a film interpretation can capture the essence of
what they love about the parent property, perhaps even displaying to non-gamers
why the games matter to them. With gamers making such an emotional investment,
much of the ill feeling towards Boll inevitably seems to stem from the idea
that his ‘betrayal’ of the source material reflects badly on <i>them</i>. For someone like Boll, who has
made a big point of making videogame movies, despite repeated protests, the
results can be ugly. Boll’s apparent
disrespect has fuelled his detractors’ ire, giving them real purpose: a crusade
to destroy him, with the battle being fought online.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Boll’s case highlights the intriguing effect
the web can have on audience reception, and its powerful capacity to effect and
sway opinion. In March 2012, in a fascinating example of the internet’s
efficiency as a tool for collating and articulating fan frustrations, thousands
of devotees of the popular videogame <i>Mass
Effect 3</i> coordinated an extensive online campaign demanding that developer
BioWare alter the game’s conclusion. Bowing to fan pressure, Bioware would
eventually publish a free download that expanded the game’s climax, setting a
dangerous new precedent for developers. In a similar move, after CBS cancelled
television drama <i>Jericho</i> back in
2007, scores of fans inundated the network with vicious emails, prompting the
series’ swift, if short-lived return.
Despite a similarly wrathful campaign following Warner Bros’ decision to
delay the release of the sixth <i>Harry
Potter</i> film in 2008, fan power has so far failed to affect film production
in quite the same way. However, it is becoming increasingly apparent that if
the diehards can shout loud enough, the movie moguls may have to listen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Boll did appear to take heed of his critics, attempting to move away
from videogame adaptations to direct his own original scripts on films like the
thought-provoking genocide exploration <i>Darfur</i>
and the kill-spree horror shocker <i>Rampage
</i>(both 2009), though the damage appears to have already been done. The few
critics who bothered to review these more recent original efforts talked in
whispers about how Boll might actually be improving and may have found his
niche with films that attempted to spread the message of important social
issues to the masses. However, perhaps tellingly, the IMDb ratings for these
efforts remained abysmally low, and audiences kept their distance. Boll would
find he could do little to placate the wrath of the scores of film fans who
felt so aggrieved by his existence that they seemed more than willing to resort
to dirty tactics to ensure his unpleasant and messy demise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
As Boll has claimed, amongst the great slews of space afforded to
discussing his work on IMDb, there are suggestions that the far below average
star-ratings his films receive could partly be the work of bitter saboteurs. By
coordinating multiple low votes, often without even seeing the films, the plan
seems to be to keep the ratings low to deter potential viewers. On the messageboard for 2009’s <i>Stoic</i>, Boll’s gritty, Edward
Furlong-starring exploration of the dynamics of prison life, conspiracy
theories abound that Boll’s more recent efforts are being deliberately tarred
with the same brush as his earlier films by motivated antagonists who refuse to
assess them on their own merits. A user with the handle ‘aroundaround’ alleges
that at least 51 users had cast one-star votes against <i>Stoic</i> before filming had even been completed. It is also alleged
that, the day after the first test screening for just 171 people of Boll’s
vampire thriller <i>Bloodrayne</i> (2005),
over 360 IMDb users had voted negatively against the film. Before it had even
been released, <i>Bloodrayne</i> was already
ranked one of the site’s worst films of all time, displaying the web’s capacity
to harm a film’s chances if enough people can conspire against it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
This brings to mind the way that Christopher
Nolan’s <i>The Dark Knight</i> (2008) was
able, for a few weeks following its release, to depose <i>The Godfather </i>(1972) from IMDb’s coveted number one spot. Many
theorised that this achievement could be put down to a healthy degree of hype
or, more interestingly, could have been achieved by careful design on the part
of the legion of dedicated Batman fans.
More recently, there has been suggestion of supporters of Nolan and DC
Studios forthcoming <i>The Dark Knight Rises</i>
(2012) taking to the IMDb page of rival Marvel Studios’ <i>Avengers Assemble</i> (2012) to deliberately cast low votes in an
effort to ‘game’ the film’s rating, sabotage its success and to prove, once and
for all, that Batman is the definitive superhero icon. Regardless of which film
is ‘the best,’ these cases certainly highlight the potential dangers for a
film’s publicity when fans become organised and misuse online voting systems
for their own agendas.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
In his own vehement IMDb post of January 13, 2008, Boll himself slates
the website for ‘opening up my movies for votes almost a year before they are
getting released and giving the 1 point votes between 200 and 300% more impact
than the 10 point votes.’ On IMDb’s own Voting FAQs page, the site’s
administrators, who are careful not to reveal the exact calculating methods
used to create their ‘weighted average’ star ratings, rebuff such accusations,
stating: ‘various filters are applied to raw data in order to eliminate and
reduce attempts at ‘vote stuffing’ by individuals more interested in changing
the current rating of a movie than giving their true opinion of it.’ The
statement continues: ‘Occasionally we receive mail from people who seem to assume
that some favourite movie has been victimised by the weighted ratings, whereas
this is not the case.’ However, the administrators do concede that ‘while there
is no foolproof way to verify if users have actually seen the film, or that the
vote they cast is what they really think about it, we depend on and expect our
users to be truthful and only vote on those films they have personally seen.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Safeguards may be in place, yet if users
continue to impulsively cast negative votes without viewing the films, their
actions could prove harmful, highlighting the worrying ways that the unique
conditions of online discussion and behaviour can lead to the loosening or
abandonment of social restrictions and inhibitions that would otherwise be
present in normal everyday interaction. The anonymity of internet blogging
allows users to be potentially much crueller than they would otherwise allow
themselves to be. The relentless internet bashing, or ‘flaming,’ where users
tag discussions with titles like ‘Burn In Hell, Uwe Boll’ could perhaps be put
down to what social researchers have dubbed the ‘online disinhibition
effect,’ whereby users often experience
reduced awareness of other people’s feelings, and feel less inclined to conform
to perceived norms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The level of malice directed at Boll may also be due in part to the
phenomenon of ‘deindividuation,’ a concept in social psychology that refers to
the diminishing of one’s sense of individuality that can occur with behaviour
disconnected from personal or social standards of conduct. As a faceless member
of an online mob of Boll-Bashers, a blogger may be more likely to post a
scandalous threat to the director, or deliberately attempt to engage in
‘vote-rigging.’ Like a sensible father who suddenly feels compelled to hurl
racist abuse when encompassed by the rammy of a furious football crowd, under
the cover of an online alias, surrounded by virtual strangers, normally
restrained users might find it easier to take a ‘moral vacation’ and suggest
that a filmmaker suffer all manner of violent torture. Social media, when
combined with anonymity has proven itself to be a dangerous mixture, one that
can quite easily reinforce extremism. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Boll has been quick to dispel the notion that there is no such thing as
bad press. In a 2006 interview for Youtube.com, the director laid out some of
the potential ill effects of this dissent, explaining, ‘If there are a lot of
negative reviews of a movie, foreign buyers for example, they use that to
lowball the price that they pay for the movie.’ Boll stresses that once an
abundance of negative currency has been unleashed on the web, justified or not,
damage control can be practically insurmountable, explaining, ‘once this image
is set in, it is a lot of work to do away with it, or at least to alleviate its
consequences.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The phrase ‘a million people can’t be wrong’ must be particularly
irksome to Boll, as a massive networked game of electronic Chinese Whispers has
meant that whether film fans have seen his films or not, the director’s name has
become a dirty word. Much of the information available online is far from
Gospel, but due to the way we use the web for quick fixes of enlightenment, for
someone in Boll’s position it might as well be. With such a dearth of online
propaganda devoted to painting the filmmaker in an unfavourable light, a quick
Google search of his name probably wouldn’t inspire users to seek out his films
for anything more than ironic chuckles, or to see what the fuss is all about.
With the ability to research films on our mobile phones while standing in line
at Blockbuster, it is becoming progressively easier to let the web dictate our
viewing choices.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
In a key scene in <i>Auschwitz</i>, a
young woman talks of how Germans who helped Jews in World War II would be
imprisoned, explaining that under the boot of the Nazi regime, it was easier to
simply ‘follow the current.’ The girl is asked what she would have done, to
which she responds, tellingly, ‘the same.’ It is this tendency that humanity
has to follow the herd that could very well mean that Boll’s films will,
regardless of any improvement in quality, remain largely unseen. This idea of
an ‘information cascade,’ of viewers abandoning their own information in favour
of inferences based on other people’s opinions means that, by and large, the
public will probably continue to believe the hype. Trashing Boll has become
fashionable, another ‘meme,’ transmitted through our culture like wildfire,
making it all too easy for critics to give him the cold shoulder. It has become
the done thing to castigate the director, and it may take a minor miracle for
him to overcome it. The rot may have already set in the moment Boll unleashed <i>House of the Dead</i>, riling a community
that took an instant dislike to his methods and who, with the influential power
of the web, had a powerful weapon with which to strike back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Boll finds himself at the mercy of invisible internet assassins who seem
to have the final say over how his films are received. Boll has found out the
hard way about the difficulties that lie ahead for a filmmaker who
inadvertently disrespects or fails to heed the lamentations of these online fan
communities. The recent glut of Hollywood remakes, sequels and comic book
adaptations indicate that it is becoming increasingly arduous to get a major
film made unless the source material is not already treasured by an established
fan populace. The fans, possessing the ability to make or break a picture, are
slowly coming round to the fact that they are the most powerful people in the
media landscape. By harnessing the potential of the internet, be it to campaign
through social media, or to hijack a film’s online star-rating, the fanboys are
now in charge and the artists are discovering pretty quickly that they will
need to play ball or face the consequences.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
We are investing more and more of ourselves into our cultural
consumption, increasingly defining ourselves by the things we buy, the books we
read and the games we play. A culture so committed can often lash out, sometimes
unjustly, at those who meddle with the perceived gratification that immersion
in these private fantasy worlds can provide. For many, Uwe Boll <i>is</i> a sort of antichrist, as for so many
people entertainment media has become their religion and the German director
has sacrilegiously sullied it. Like any organised religion, if you can spread
your doctrine far and wide and attract enough disciples, you have the power to
alter history and dictate the future. Unfortunately for Boll, his naysayers
want him crucified.<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-55410714900149299902012-09-25T02:18:00.000-07:002012-09-25T02:18:24.408-07:00LUX AETERNA - A TAINTED REQUIEM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz19LwgCAUv8QRC-pqEuvzsDAzDyPiRfVKsqiaa3g9-enCBWTDr7KrXGrmoNCQ76-LaeUXVYmOsTNG3L4Gze36atGm2-B9HhVcfx-YjprWlFWHszVpAfM5HXmJ6E0R2YCRAynw9CflYh0/s1600/norway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz19LwgCAUv8QRC-pqEuvzsDAzDyPiRfVKsqiaa3g9-enCBWTDr7KrXGrmoNCQ76-LaeUXVYmOsTNG3L4Gze36atGm2-B9HhVcfx-YjprWlFWHszVpAfM5HXmJ6E0R2YCRAynw9CflYh0/s320/norway.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
On Friday 22 July 2011, the same day he
bombed a government building in Oslo, Norway before carrying out a mass
shooting at a political retreat on the country’s Utoya Island, leaving a death
toll of 77, right-wing Christian extremist Anders Behring Breivik
electronically distributed his 1500 page political manifesto. A collection of
spirited diatribes against Islam, and Norway’s liberal immigration policies,
the lengthy compendium also detailed how Breivik planned to prepare for his
‘preventive attacks to defend the indigenous Norwegian people.’ In addition to detailing his expected mental
state, the extremist disclosed: ‘I will put my iPod on max volume to suppress
fear, if needed. I might just put Lux Aeterna by Clint Mansell on repeat as it
is an incredibly powerful song.’ He went on:
‘The track is very inspiring and invokes a passionate rage within you.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The song’s title may not be immediately familiar, but for all who hear
it, ‘Lux Aeterna’ should be instantly recognisable, thanks to years of
repetition in movie trailers, advertisements and sports news bulletins. As
stories of the attacks filtered out of Norway, the soundtrack to the
sociopath’s rampage - a haunting, urgent composition with a beguiling swirl of
ominous neoclassical strings - would also make for a depressingly apt backdrop
to footage of the atrocity’s aftermath. With Breivik, acting compulsively on a
universe of bizarre, delusional and grandiose thoughts, appropriating it as an
anthem of his ‘low intensity civil war,’
the track takes on sinister new dimensions, foregrounding the way art, once
unleashed into the public domain, can become something far beyond the vision of
its’ creator.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
‘Lux Aeterna’ started life as part of composer Clint Mansell’s brooding,
evocative score for Darren Aronofsky’s 2000 feature <i>Requiem for a Dream</i>. Aronofsky would describe his drug parable as a
‘monster movie,’ with Mansell’s expressive composition, performed with strings
from the Kronos Quartet, said to represent the embodiment of this
‘monster.’ ‘Lux Aeterna,‘ in this
context, exists as the musical personification of a theme repeated throughout
the director’s work, on films like <i>Black
Swan</i> and <i>Pi</i> – the idea of protagonists
at war with themselves, blaming outside forces for their woes when in reality
it is their internal struggles that cause most damage. The parallels with
Breivik, a paranoid schizophrenic who alluded to himself as a ‘knight’ battling
multiculturalist ‘traitors’, are too strong to ignore, though the score’s
profounder meanings were perhaps slightly lost on the killer. All songs are
shaped by the experiences of those who hear, reappropriate or reimagine them,
and ‘Lux Aeterna,’ once freed from its creator, would eventually mutate into
something else entirely, becoming a celebrated paean to grandiosity, before
finding it’s home on a killer’s mp3. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
In 2002, on a visit to the cinema, four years after writing the song,
Mansell would hear an altered, even more rousing, revamped version of his
composition, utilising full orchestra and choir, blasting out over a trailer
for <i>The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers</i>.
Due to overwhelming response, this reworking, arranged by Simone Benyacar,
Daniel Nielson and Veigar Margeirsson, was eventually released as an EP
entitled ‘Requiem for a Tower.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The track’s effectiveness in conveying a thrilling sense of drama
swiftly saw this version become ubiquitous in trailers for grandiose,
big-budget effects pictures, usually with desperate ‘life-or-death’ situations
like <i>Troy</i>, <i>Sunshine</i> and <i>Babylon A.D. </i>More
absurdly, the song would soundtrack TV shows like <i>America’s Got Talent</i> and BBC’s <i>Top
Gear</i>, popping up to infer high stakes and gripping melodrama and its
omnipresence was confirmed when it was employed as the attention-grabbing intro
music for Rupert Murdoch’s Sky Sports News channel. In this incarnation, as a
sort of musical shorthand for all things ‘epic,’ it is easier to imagine how
Breivik could appropriate the composition as a resounding call-to-arms, a
commanding theme song for a delusional ‘crusader’ with an overinflated sense of
self-importance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The composition’s influential, dramatic chord progression, its ability
to make the listener feel like something cataclysmic is looming, has seen ‘Lux
Aeterna’ embraced not only by canny film and television producers, but also by
members of the video-gaming community, who commonly utilise the track as
suitably dynamic background music for online video ‘highlight reels’ of achievements
in popular role-playing games like <i>World
of Warcraft</i>. Breivik’s manifesto details how he would spend days immersed
in <i>Warcraft</i>’s Tolkienesque fantasy
world to relax and for ‘training simulation.’ It is tempting to imagine the
killer, who referred to himself as a ‘Knight Justiciar’ in reference to his <i>Warcraft</i> avatar, hearing the composition
in this context and envisioning it as the perfect anthem for an urgent
‘mission’ that, in Breivik’s mind at least, was like the plot to a grand,
fantasy epic where he was the hero.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Though enthusiastically embraced by many as a
radical and thoroughly emotive piece, ‘Lux Aeterna’ has nonetheless been
dismissed by some film score scholars as overrated, repetitively simplistic and
structurally featherweight. Like Breivik’s unsettling, ill-conceived manifesto,
the composition is, to the educated, nowhere near as awe-inspiring as the
killer might have conceived. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Yet its prevalence and longevity in popular culture surely hints at
something extraordinary: some mysterious, unquantifiable element at work. With
‘Lux Aeterna,’ Mansell captured lightning in a bottle, uncovering something
intangible that endures. Music’s uncanny ability to stir the soul resists the
evaluation of language: that indeterminable something that separates the
flash-in-the-pan from the phenomenon. The beauty of song is in interpretation,
in the creation of powerful emotions not so easily expressed, carrying more
weight than their progenitors could ever imagine or hope to control.
Unfortunately, for men like Breivik, stood on the precipice of something awful,
this capacity to stir can be fatefully poisonous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Following the tragic events in Norway, <i>Requiem For a Dream</i>’s stirring musical leitmotif will now and
forever be so much more than simply a movie score, and will no doubt continue
to acquire deeper layers of meaning each time it is heard. That it has ended up on the playlist of a
madman could very well see Mansell’s composition condemned as Breivik’s <i>Catcher in the Rye</i>, but for better or
worse, its place in history is now assured.<o:p></o:p></div>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-18025052763788177032012-08-20T07:48:00.003-07:002012-08-20T07:48:55.555-07:00THE BARGAIN BIN B-MOVIE BOOZE REVIEW!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuYA3T8ajTsFj0A4iSJRB5ZUGJxMt8m6ynDbVQSIP69RRRiMsZmhJC7b5qUHf7EPlY2XDuaLPJPbnP0HgXqRMFpYDcz9GGuluhWkyQARUp605GKGhpkCSWgjjDtNRSk0fzW4t1eJDTSA/s1600/freerunner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuYA3T8ajTsFj0A4iSJRB5ZUGJxMt8m6ynDbVQSIP69RRRiMsZmhJC7b5qUHf7EPlY2XDuaLPJPbnP0HgXqRMFpYDcz9GGuluhWkyQARUp605GKGhpkCSWgjjDtNRSk0fzW4t1eJDTSA/s1600/freerunner.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Check out this link to my very first podcast!<br />
I am joined by the irrepressible Neil Young and we watch the naffest DVDs from the Morrisons bargain bin, so you don't have to! Then we let you know how wrecked you need to be to actually enjoy them.<br />
This week: Danny Dyer stars in the parkour action bonanza Freerunner!<br />
A four pint head start is recommended...<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yORH8R_NAMA">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yORH8R_NAMA</a>
garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-38408394581077165292012-05-11T03:39:00.003-07:002012-05-11T03:39:40.415-07:00THE CABIN IN THE WOODS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QSecCyIwd8RWIfK6FIaCaejNciQdxLECukrj8h_fIQzaAoHn8H6XwrTYCUaGE9OgzNybEBMkl20TsWe0RwZqxe3Ha_v9UvLJyd8lYrpNLxFz6GU1rzzdix-I72G-xlIu4xYxJAe-nu8/s1600/cabin!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QSecCyIwd8RWIfK6FIaCaejNciQdxLECukrj8h_fIQzaAoHn8H6XwrTYCUaGE9OgzNybEBMkl20TsWe0RwZqxe3Ha_v9UvLJyd8lYrpNLxFz6GU1rzzdix-I72G-xlIu4xYxJAe-nu8/s1600/cabin!.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Chris Hemsworth (<i>Thor,
</i>2011) heads up the band of teenagers/walking clichés who head off for a
weekend of lasciviousness, fornication and generally behaving like morons in
the sort of American backwoods deadend dwelling where cellphone signals are
just the first thing to croak. The whooping teens check into a creeky hovel,
eerily reminiscent of the shack in <i>The
Evil Dead</i> (1981), leaving no doubt that things are about to get gorier than
a nailbomb in an abattoir. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So far, so ‘meh,’ but
<i>Cabin…</i>, produced by Joss Whedon and
directed by Drew Goddard from a script by both, like Wes Craven’s game-changing
<i>Scream</i> (1996), cunningly aims to
eviscerate the horror genre, slyly mutilating it into horrific new shapes. We’re
offered glimpses of white-collar desk-jockeys (Richard Jenkins and Bradley
Whitford) cackling in some mysterious, hidden, hi-tech control booth, gleefully
observing events via hidden cameras. As they make wagers and push magic buttons
that make girls remove their tops, it becomes apparent that strings are being
ingeniously pulled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like <i>Beadle’s About</i> reworked by John
Carpenter, this is a fantastically compelling spin on horror standards.
Wisecracking Whitford and Jenkins make for curiously amiable puppetmasters,
dexterously maneuvering the teens into a bloodcurdling basement full of
familiar supernatural MacGuffins (ominous puzzlebox, sinister ancient tome).
Before you can squeal “Don’t read the Latin out loud!” all manner of
nightmarish creatures are unleashed, obligingly relieving the kids of body
parts in some inventively squelchy sequences.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whedon and Goddard
have a riot, toying with horror conventions, like introducing a dial that prompts
the kids to nonsensically split up, and a ‘pheromone mist’ that hilariously
compels them to initiate outdoors nookie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is a compelling
funhouse ride of a movie, leaving us to ruminate over exactly what is going on,
the <i>Buffy</i> creators spoonfeeding us
just enough to keep things intriguing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A twisty-turny treat,
Cabin… is a kick up the backside to a stagnant, predictable genre, though it is
so content with being clever, it often forgets to be scary. The ‘jump scares’
lack effectiveness, the foreboding atmosphere heavily diluted by all the sly
nods and winks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Packed full of idea
and invention, this oddity manages to graffiti all over the horror rule book,
but still falls victim to many of its stereotypes and failings. With its
purposefully cheesy dialogue and cardboard cut-out characterisation, the
filmmakers aren’t so much critiquing the genre’s conventions as simply pointing
them out. As the puppeteers’ agenda becomes clear, the picture begins to suffocate
under the weight of its own spectacular premise, resulting in a frankly
bonkers, slightly unsatisfying crescendo that doesn’t entirely make sense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though not as smart
as it thinks it is, <i>Cabin...</i> still
manages to sink its blood-drenched hooks in deep, making up for its defects
with a jaw-dropping, slaughterous final third that audaciously shoehorns in
every horror movie staple you can imagine. Whatever Boogeyman hides in your
closet, you’ll be sure to find it lurking within <i>The Cabin in the Woods,</i> and though it may not give you nightmares,
you certainly won’t forget this creepshow in a hurry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-65441141946812341572012-04-05T08:34:00.000-07:002012-04-05T08:34:06.229-07:00IS IT JUST ME…OR DOES THE SEX LIVES OF THE POTATO MEN DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhREnL1pXK60YBst0melraLOSZAnurPesAgNDRIk9i_jDg7eoE1H2_TViAzuUh2SJckGfRasZOcPNLGFhG1REMs6FgRowmOql41IblPsmEORbPAMDlqxAqNm0uuMOZUm2zeTmFqaJJwFlA/s1600/potatomen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhREnL1pXK60YBst0melraLOSZAnurPesAgNDRIk9i_jDg7eoE1H2_TViAzuUh2SJckGfRasZOcPNLGFhG1REMs6FgRowmOql41IblPsmEORbPAMDlqxAqNm0uuMOZUm2zeTmFqaJJwFlA/s1600/potatomen.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">When the chips were down, following last year’s demise of the UK Film Council, the knives came out for one particular hot potato. As the UKFC found itself roasted in the long vowed Tory “bonfire of the quangos,” its detractors gleefully reminded us that this was the same body that, in 2003, approved nearly one million pounds of national lottery funding to help finance controversial sex comedy <i>The Sex Lives of the Potato Men</i>. Though relatively small-fry in cinematic terms, made on a budget of just three million pounds, the Johnny Vegas vehicle was blithely used to flog the council’s rotting corpse by those who had denounced the film as a squalid, unfunny, vulgar, spectacularly ill-judged, half-baked misfire. Outraged, <i>The Times</i> threw water on the chip pan fire going so far as to dub <i>Potato Men </i>“one of the two most nauseous films ever made.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> But now the heat has died down and the smoke has cleared, I am compelled to question: is this little film really so rotten, or can we peel back its soily, filthy exterior and discover something wholesome, nutritious and undeniably <i>chipper</i> inside?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Responding to the picture’s naysayers on release, the UKFC defended <i>Potato Men </i>as ‘not critic-led,’ which is surely plain to see. Nobody could argue that this facetious farce about the sexual shenanigans of four Brummie potato delivery men, portrayed with deliciously deadpan detachment by Vegas, British sitcom stars Mackenzie Crook and Mark Gatiss, and newcomer Dominic Coleman, could ever pass for “high art.” On the contrary, Andy Humphries’ directorial debut is as defiantly low-brow as they come. And where is the harm in that? Metrosexuality be damned, the Potato Men, in their noble quest to empty their sacks of spuds, serve up a delirious, deep-fried celebration of pure, unadulterated, primal, bollock-scratching Male-ness. And besides, it’s hard to care about a flick’s artistic merits when you’re laughing yourself silly.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Admittedly, the film may not appeal to your nan. Vegas’ newly-single Dave and his cockamamie cronies are unashamedly potty-mouthed, with stud-of-the-gang Ferris (Crook), sagely observing that life is ‘one big fanny-fest.’ But many of their elucidations are astutely hilarious and, I would argue, cast an illuminating spotlight on the concerns and motivations of young, working-class British males. These are sad, lonely men, longing for a better life, but who have spent so long stuck in the doldrums they’ll settle for the quick fix of a boozy, illicit knee-trembler with whoever’s willing. Young, skint, horny, live-for-the-weekend audiences may well find something depressingly relatable in Dave’s impassioned rallying cry: ‘We’re young men! We shouldn’t be here! We should be living our lives to the fullest! We should be…Down the pub!’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> This is a grim, grotty slice of proper half-cut, beer-bellied urban life and though it certainly isn’t for everyone, I challenge young British men to watch without tittering inanely. Certainly, any dignified, beer-swilling lad who has ever found himself embroiled in a pissed-up, passionate pub parlance will recognise the insane genius in Dave and Ferris’ gloriously daft, drunken wasp/bee/honey debate (‘Bees make honey? Since when?’).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Perhaps the critics just didn’t get it. This is a film made by, and for, blokes who have spent far too long down the boozer. Though having scarcely little to do with the plot, the sight of Dave, completely trollied, holding court on the karaoke machine, enthusiastically murdering Dexy’s Midnight Runners’ <i>Come On Eileen</i>, to a wonderfully indifferent, near-empty pub, must surely stand as a heroic tribute to the defiant spirit of the disenchanted working classes. The sight of Vegas, in ferocious full-flow, almost certainly sloshed-for-real, is sidesplittingly uproarious, but tinged with pathos. His Dave is lovably pathetic, a clueless would-be lothario whose idea of foreplay is asking his lucky lady if he can borrow an Allen key so the bed doesn’t squeak.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Though Vegas became notorious for his belligerent drunk stage persona, here he furnishes his character with poignant vulnerability. The funnyman is genuinely moving, opening his heart, revealing, ‘I don’t want to sound like a poof…but I used to love talking to my wife.’ Denigrators failed to recognise that Humphries’ film offers an honest, affecting examination of the bruised male psyche with its depiction of destitute men, cast adrift: lost, lonely and gagging for it. For these losers, sex makes life worth living, with gormless Ferris, in a rare moment of clarity, stubbornly declaring, ‘My sex life is all I’ve got!’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Those who knock the film do it a disservice by disregarding the sublime subtleties of its performances. Though crude, the Potato Men come across as essentially likeable fellas, especially Coleman’s endearingly dim Tolly, a man who pines for his ex-wife so badly, he embarks on a grubby, fetishistic odyssey involving increasingy ridiculous fusions of fish and fruit preserves, because it ‘reminds him of her taste.’ It is a minor miracle that Coleman, with his puppy dog eyes, superbly expressionistic visage and affable demeanour, succeeds in making a character who should, by all rights, be irredeemably creepy, the most appealing of the bunch. Tolly is so pitiful, the premium-rate sex-lines hang up on <i>him</i>, but Coleman’s portrayal is so innocently naïve, we root for him.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Crook, too, impresses as unlikely, lanky lady-killer Ferris, who sees plenty of amorous action, but consistently ends up in bizarre sexual scenarios. The understated horror channelled by Crook’s haunted glare expertly sums up the grimy awkwardness of his merry, messed-up encounters with role-playing chip-shop girls, sex-mad mother-in-laws and perturbingly prurient pensioners.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> <i>The League of Gentlemen</i>’s Mark Gatiss rounds off the cast’s vintage comedy credentials as mixed-up Jeremy, who believes that kidnapping his ex’s dog is a surefire way to win her back. Gatiss expertly foregrounds bogey-scoffing Jeremy’s complete obliviousness to the eccentricity of his actions, moulding the character into something surprisingly engaging, forlorn and heart-breaking rather than disturbing. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> These well-crafted performances highlight that, though knocked by many as odious and loathsome, under closer inspection the Potato Men’s exploits are really just harmless, frivolous fun. Like <i>The Inbetweeners</i> if they grew up but didn’t learn a damn thing, the boys are likeable, if dim-witted fools whose libidos steer them into insane, filthy situations that assist them in the arduous process of growing up and moving on. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> One criticism levelled at <i>Potato Men</i> is that it suffers from a weak plot structure and works as little more than a series of loosely connected comedy sketches. In its defence, I would point out that a similar formula did no harm for Will Ferrell’s <i>Anchorman</i> and that complex plotting matters not a jot when those sketches feature a rollicking, gut-busting, opposite-of-sexy ménage a trois, soundtracked by the seductive sounds of Carl Douglas’ <i>Kung Fu Fighting</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Yes, the picture is satisfyingly smutty, but Humphries should also be applauded for his unflinching, forthright depiction of carnality. Interestingly, there is no nudity, the film leaving <i>some</i> things to the imagination - sure, it’s lewd and crude, but <i>far </i>from gratuitous. The polar opposite of Hollywood’s portrayal of unfeasibly gorgeous people, these are weird, odd-looking misfits who show up sex for what it often is – a bit ugly, disappointing and occasionally hilarious.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> Perhaps the critics found this honest portrayal of sexual politics too much to stomach? Dave and co tell us a lot about a society with no shame and no standards, where the quest for sexual gratification wins out over intimacy. Against this backdrop, the Potato Men make us feel oddly better about ourselves – no matter how low we might feel, at least we’re not dog-napping or blowing our wages on an octopus and a jar of strawberry jam. Don’t ask.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> So do the <i>Potato Men </i>deserve another fair crack of the whip? Definitely. Like the aforementioned <i>Anchorman</i> and <i>The Big Lebowski</i>, another classic comedy unfairly ignored on release, the film is rich with cracking, quotable one-liners that could see cult fandom beckon. At the offer of a ‘spitroast,’ as a curtain raiser to a long sought-after threesome, Dave heartily replies with the zinger, ‘Yeah, I’ve only had a sandwich for my tea.’ When Ferris lamentably explains the depths he plumbs to secure lodgings, revealing, ‘My mother-in-law gave me a blow-job,’ Dave pauses, considers and retorts, ‘Mine gave me a fishing rod once.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> If this type of patter tickles you, then it’s time to rally the troops, phone for a pizza and get the beers in. Best served with a couple of pints, this misinterpreted masterpiece is one to be shared and enjoyed with the lads. Like a smutty seaside postcard, you <i>will</i> laugh, maybe even wish you hadn’t, but its rib-tickling effect is one that cannot be denied.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> On release, this very publication denounced <i>Potato Men</i> as ‘a Britcom only a <i>Loaded</i> reader could love.’ But is there any shame in that? The critics seem to have missed the point that this is a film with a very specific target audience, and it’s time it found the love it deserves. Cinema offers a bountiful banquet that caters for all tastes and there’s no reason why this sweet potato can’t provide delicious nourishment for audiences for years to come. Or is it just me?<o:p></o:p></div>garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-75792624920485163972012-03-19T03:08:00.000-07:002012-03-19T03:08:30.416-07:00THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPSGg_CAR1FGU8LQXKL1oUKQE7CmdEkDdgjhg2HqxyqOF1srG0H045Q-NiLpJBgah9_-r2YxqmPfU-yV19utab_7PhhpKHsW69D7CMwh2C7XC3_UT3ogJJWKc5LgMNQ_vRE55ktwlgXI/s1600/barley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPSGg_CAR1FGU8LQXKL1oUKQE7CmdEkDdgjhg2HqxyqOF1srG0H045Q-NiLpJBgah9_-r2YxqmPfU-yV19utab_7PhhpKHsW69D7CMwh2C7XC3_UT3ogJJWKc5LgMNQ_vRE55ktwlgXI/s1600/barley.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> It is a bold, intrepid filmmaker who dares to throw open Pandora’s Box and take on a film that deals with The Troubles of Northern Ireland. With <i>The wind That Shakes The Barley</i>, director Ken Loach, no stranger to tackling controversial issues, and long-time screenwriting partner Paul Laverty fearlessly step up to the challenge, unleashing a fiercely political picture that is surely designed to ruffle a few feathers.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">This incendiary tale of upheaval and rebellion stars Cillian Murphy as Damien O’Donovan, a Cork man who becomes involved with the Irish Republican Army during the Tan War and subsequent Irish Civil War of the nineteen-twenties. The young doctor abandons a promising medical career to take up arms against the ruthless Black and Tan squads sent from Britain to block Ireland’s bid for independence, the impact of their deplorable behaviour on his village proving too much for many to tolerate. Damien’s enervation is shrewdly illustrated as the lively, exuberant camaraderie of the picture’s opening hurling competition is abruptly terminated by the arrival of the tyrannical British soldiers, shrilly barking orders at terrified locals. As the Tans brutalise a young man for refusing to answer in English, the helpless villagers’ awful sense of confusion is palpable, echoing the disorientation that outsiders to the reality of The Troubles will doubtlessly share. A ferociously affecting overture, it plunges us deep into the inescapable reality of a nation in conflict.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Damien is sworn into the flying column brigade commanded by his brother Teddy (Padraic Delaney), and the struggles of these crusading siblings form the emotional backbone of Loach’s conscientious depiction of the effect this conflict had on small communities. As the signing of the Anglo-Irish Peace Treaty of 1921 splits the nation, with many refusing to pledge allegiance to a British monarchy, Laverty’s screenplay astutely turns brother against brother. Teddy becomes a Free State officer, while Damien pledges allegiance to the anti-treaty IRA, placing the two on an agonising collision course.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Loach’s film is mercilessly confrontational and unapologetic in its depiction of violence, exploring the lengths men will go to for their beliefs. As Damien ruefully guns down a friend-turned-informant, cascading emotions flicker across his anxious visage. Pulling the trigger with thudding finality, we understand he has come too far to turn back.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> A degrading attack on the community, where Damien’s lover Sinead (Orla Fitzgerald) is beaten, her hair humiliatingly shorn by the Tans, we are forced to watch from the helpless viewpoint of the despairing rebels. Hiding on a hillside, we share in the horror, desperately unable to intervene, a cruel reflection of the realities of war. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The violence is blunt, bloody, real, with one blood-curling moment seeing Teddy interrogated by aggressive inquisitors who gleefully claw at his fingernails with rusty pliers. As fellow prisoners, roused by his caterwauling defiance, chant Republican anthem ‘The Boys of the Old Brigade’ in solidarity, we are left in doubt as to where Loach’s sympathies lie. For the outwardly socialist director, all occupiers are aggressors, which may prove too troublesome for some viewers to swallow.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> However unpalatable Loach’s version of ‘The Truth’ may be for some, the director’s realist style certainly lends an authoritatively authentic feel to proceedings. There is a refreshing lack of craic, blarney and Guinness-quaffing, while the use of remorselessly dense Cork accents delivered by predominantly untrained, unknown actors brings a sense of truth lacking from so many cinematic depictions of the Emerald Isle. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Many scenes appear unscripted and improvised, as when union official Dan (Liam Cunningham) stumbles and stutters through an impassioned speech on the implications of the Treaty. Such adroit methods seduce us into viewing history through Republican eyes, the picture’s beautifully realised, convincing period detail successfully immersing us in lives of these complicated souls.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Our experience is anchored by a commanding, emotional performance from Murphy. His is a face that expertly channels sadness, anger and frustration via the intense hues of his beautiful, yet fatigued, unfeasibly blue eyes. Though Damien’s swift transformation from unsure, mild-mannered doctor to dedicated guerrilla soldier never completely convinces, the Cork native is nevertheless a powerful, arresting presence, fluctuating between calm contemplation and frightening vein-popping intensity. When, with a defiantly aloof swagger, Damien attempts to mask his torment at executing the informant, he is betrayed by the heart-rending, wounded confusion of Murphy’s trembling, cracked intonation, providing one of the film’s most profoundly affecting scenes.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Unfortunately, though Murphy impresses, the film’s brother versus brother plotline feels contrived, as Loach never bothers to really take us inside Teddy and Damien’s relationship. Similarly, Damien’s romance with Sinead feels like an afterthought, tacked-on almost, as another succinct reminder that the IRA are real people with feelings too.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Most problematic, however, is the merciless depiction of the Black and Tan troops, to-a-man portrayed as irredeemable savage, sneering bullies who see the natives as subhuman scum. Though historical accounts indicate that the real-life colonial soldiers were far from squeaky-clean, through relentless scenes of forceful intimidation and reprehensible torture, the Tans are very deliberately never afforded a humanity allowed to the Irish characters. The mercenaries are made all too easy to hate, assaulting defenceless women and haphazardly firing bullets at villagers’ houses with a casual air of effrontery. With little insight or explanation into their psyches, Loach is crucially cartoonish in his depiction of the Brits, making this feel, sadly, like complex, historical allegory boiled down to a simplified tale of ‘goodies’ and ‘baddies.’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Loach plays a dangerous game, not in sketching the Republican Army as sympathetic, living, breathing, vulnerable human beings, but by painting his portrait with such broad brushstrokes of black and white. His film is admirable in its intentions to present a thoughtful, considered view of the IRA, but lamentably, it is a shamelessly unbalanced account. There is much to admire and enjoy, especially in tense, riveting, glimpses of stealthy, guerrilla warfare, but in letting his head rule his heart, the director falls slightly short of the greatness we know he is capable of, evidenced in the hard-hitting triumphs of ‘Sweet Sixteen’ (2002) and ‘Kes’ (1969). Though Loach spins an affecting, gripping tale, the straightforward ‘Truth’ he presents defuses much of the potency of his astute, considered political commentary. War, sadly, does not provide such simple solutions.<o:p></o:p></div>garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-70055374089808606562012-03-12T15:18:00.000-07:002012-03-12T15:18:14.084-07:00THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsi-oLG8ihP6Lq7lg0cwGZIoFM3PuUiLdip95Ihi0Y2srAxYlMMHdMar1glmZAeHRGB073IZzUqF5cY98RCymqBZNwk_A_Hh_CLVl0pS_nYmtbNyrggNlLNDbW9VP498rcz48ldaoiCtc/s1600/algiers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsi-oLG8ihP6Lq7lg0cwGZIoFM3PuUiLdip95Ihi0Y2srAxYlMMHdMar1glmZAeHRGB073IZzUqF5cY98RCymqBZNwk_A_Hh_CLVl0pS_nYmtbNyrggNlLNDbW9VP498rcz48ldaoiCtc/s1600/algiers.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">The total magnitude of war is beyond the comprehension of language. Though audiences can never fully grasp the pain, politics and emotions of the French-Algerian war, the Criterion edition of Gillo Pontecorvo’s 1966 masterpiece is nonetheless a staggering achievement. Such is its timeless impact, …<i>Algiers</i> was screened at the Pentagon in 2003 as an illustration of burning issues faced in Iraq. It is easy to see why.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Pontecorvo masterfully shoots on location in a grainy, documentary style, with untrained actors convincingly illustrating the rise of the Algerian guerrilla National Liberation Front and the colonial powers ruthless attempts to crush them. With harrowing scenes of frighteningly realistic violence, the film succinctly documents the period from 1954 to 1957 when the Casbah of Algiers became a bloody theatre of war. Expertly filmed bombings and shootings seem almost too real, with one explosion in a teenager-packed café proving particularly overwhelming.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Brahim Hagiag exudes moody, urgent intensity as Ali La Pointe, a crook who scales the ranks of the FLN and who serves as the film’s emotional core. If the face is a map of a life, the steely resolve evident in the actor’s eyes, unflinchingly gunning down opponents, convinces us that the freedom fighter will die for freedom. The excellent Saadi Yasef, a real-life FLN military chief loads further ammunition to the authentic feel, bringing gravitas to a character moulded on his own experiences.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Pontecorvo’s flair for orchestrating massive crowd scenes, bestows <i>…Algiers</i> with a proper sense of grand scale and significance, a towering example of cinematic realism. The only elements that break the spell are some ropey performances from untrained supporting actors, such as a rebel forced to betray La Pointe, whose glassy stare and uncertain mannerisms prove regrettably distracting.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> It is a minor grumble with a picture, energised by an insistent Ennio Morricone military score, that consistently absorbs and thrills. When the bombs go off it is hard to deny the feeling of history being forged in blood and thunder.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> A barrage of meticulously assembled documentary extras impress, with 1992’s <i>The Dictatorship of Truth</i> and <i>Gillo Pontecorvo’s Return to Algiers</i> offering fascinating insight on the director’s past, politics and views on the conflict’s enduring legacy. Cast and crew reminisce in <i>Marxist Poetry</i>, while <i>Remembering History</i> explores the Algerian experience, through candid, fascinating interviews with surviving FLN members. <i>Etats d’Armes</i>, an excerpt from a 2002 feature on the conflict, offers the French military viewpoint, while Pontecorvo’s fearless methods and his impact on contemporaries like Spike Lee and Oliver Stone is explored in interview featurette <i>Five Directors</i>. Perhaps most fascinating is <i>The Battle of Algiers: A Case Study</i>, a short discussion from 2004 between White House counter-terrorism experts, examing the film’s relevance to contemporary terrorism concerns.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Theatrical trailers, in-depth production gallery and an educational booklet, featuring historical essays and interviews with key players rounds off a superbly comprehensive package. The beauty of Pontecorvo’s accomplishment, reflected in these extensive supplements, is that he gets inside the minds of both sides, presenting an admirably balanced account of war. Never passing judgement, he poses alarming questions, the answers to which continue to elude us.<o:p></o:p></div>garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-90073840533194311962012-03-03T02:54:00.000-08:002012-03-03T02:54:32.405-08:00DJANGO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRkww00TL1_Iait5JF1YT38idcUv5fclUrG0G3q1Yne9wPVST26LKvd9Fv7kZfVd73pT6s02vabyoIc_KlAcpNZdHQ4lXuPPohBe8VgmGJd2dMg5hCxNvJT4wLoWl2bkGDuhD55PJbnU/s1600/django.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRkww00TL1_Iait5JF1YT38idcUv5fclUrG0G3q1Yne9wPVST26LKvd9Fv7kZfVd73pT6s02vabyoIc_KlAcpNZdHQ4lXuPPohBe8VgmGJd2dMg5hCxNvJT4wLoWl2bkGDuhD55PJbnU/s1600/django.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All the coolest movie heroes have legendary theme tunes. From Batman to Bond, the credentials of the slickest cinematic titans are solidified by an awesome musical motif that lets audiences know exactly who the baddest cat in the room is. And from the moment Luis Bacalov’s rousing, grandiose, string-laden score kicks in, heralding the arrival of our rugged, stetson-clad hero, it is clear that Django is The Daddy.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Franco Nero smoulders as the mysterious stranger, swaggering through a cold, filthy, unforgiving old west, dragging a coffin and blasting any sucker mad enough to get in his way. His spine-tingling entrance sets the tone for Sergio Corbucci’s 1966 spaghetti western, a confident, stylish explosion of macho energy that invites audiences to bask in its audacious badassery. Nero is magnetic, furnishing the gunslinger with an icy stare and a physical composure befitting a character so tough, he squares up for a scrap with two broken hands.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Seeking vengeance for his wife’s murder, the bronco unleashes hell in a succession of colossal, overblown rucks. It is unapologetically berserk stuff, with one exhilaratingly choreographed battle seeing Django exterminate all opponents with some gargantuan ordnance that would have Jesse Ventura in <i>Predator</i> (1987) drooling. Though enjoyably demented, Corbucci plays things poker-faced straight, showcasing a flair for action that includes positioning the audience right in the middle of a blistering barroom brawl.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Eduardo Fajardo is delicious as cold-hearted, Mexican-massacring baddie Major Jackson, though Loredana Nusciak seems underused as the defiant hooker who could be Django’s salvation, but really, plot and characterisation seem almost inconsequential. <i>Django</i>’s mission is to entertain and it does this in spades, blasting pretensions to smithereens with a .45 calibre bullet.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Corbucci delivers delirious, no-nonsense thrills and bestows upon us a double-hard, iconic hero for the ages, with a theme tune so stupendous, you may wonder if Batman secretly wears Django pyjamas. <o:p></o:p></div>garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-2817632092126609582012-03-03T02:52:00.000-08:002012-03-03T02:52:14.097-08:00THE KING OF COMEDY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4twUUirMtCNEpNCZbLBRm0EeFhFcMAtsALZInkHJZ52t1jZ54eq1FltkLyd7cwGLHLxdymzJ1o0SauGnL7AzbneHAR34XVVYu_igkmoItaiSp2Wlrw7M9DOxgtrVTR1FOo55FaLhco94/s1600/KING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4twUUirMtCNEpNCZbLBRm0EeFhFcMAtsALZInkHJZ52t1jZ54eq1FltkLyd7cwGLHLxdymzJ1o0SauGnL7AzbneHAR34XVVYu_igkmoItaiSp2Wlrw7M9DOxgtrVTR1FOo55FaLhco94/s1600/KING.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Like being forced to listen to an over-friendly weirdo on the bus, there is little more excruciating than an orator cheerily oblivious to his captive audience’s complete indifference. With <i>The King of Comedy</i> (1983), Martin Scorsese invites us into the living daydreams of one such oddball, pipe-dreaming, mediocre stand-up comic Rupert Pupkin, a man so certain of his right to fame he loses his grip on reality.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Robert DeNiro is unnerving as the unhinged comedian,stalking his talkshow host idol (jerry Lewis), convinced this will lead to success. Disquietly believable, his relentlessly chirpy Pupkin is a restrained, creepy, but altogether different lunatic to <i>Taxi Driver</i>’s (1976)volatile Travis Bickle. The famous DeNiro scowl is supplanted by constant disarming nods, smiles and winks, the method actor fizzing with nervous energy, his fidgety, constant tie-fixing hinting at a dark chasm of need lurking behind the smirk.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> It is easy to spot ‘the crazies’ on the street by a strange emptiness in their eyes, and DeNiro convinces as a man lost in delusion, inviting sympathies with his friendly, courteous demeanour, that swiftly dissolve to discomfort under his unfaltering, shark-like gaze. An old flame is suckered by tall tales of Pupkin’s famous pals and when the comic slips her an autograph it should be funny, but the deftness of the performance renders the scene harrowing. We are utterly assured of his self-deception – the only one not in on the joke, he is chillingly unpredictable. With events culminating in a reckless kidnapping, the clown tellingly never stops grinning.<o:p></o:p></div><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> DeNiro is devastatingly effective because he never allows this mask to slip. Eminently watchable, his conviction totally sells us on a stooge who unswervingly believes he is “The King.” Frighteningly, he wouldn’t seem out of place on <i>America’s Got Talent</i>, a phenomenon that depressingly reminds us that there are many dauntless, desperate Pupkins living among us</span>garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902635373120016277.post-68421029742154646202012-02-23T09:36:00.000-08:002012-02-23T09:36:18.051-08:00GRIZZLY MAN<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYCugZN2w8CBD2DjpuDIDAQk9qBlWwmnrMPcdVu8jK6bx9UqIEgFr_gmzTE4BIBepwAT0pj9dh7l_tnpEiPGaDWbaF-BH2TVMvnezBm2yL-fmMDjJYsNMBN6dyH4EsDyLKGiKYgphFeyo/s1600/GRIZZLY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYCugZN2w8CBD2DjpuDIDAQk9qBlWwmnrMPcdVu8jK6bx9UqIEgFr_gmzTE4BIBepwAT0pj9dh7l_tnpEiPGaDWbaF-BH2TVMvnezBm2yL-fmMDjJYsNMBN6dyH4EsDyLKGiKYgphFeyo/s1600/GRIZZLY.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Some addicts go to drastic lengths to conquer their obsessions, overcoming one all-consuming fixation by replacing it with something equally risky. Many become adrenaline-junkies, turning to extreme sports like bungee-jumping to fill the void left by drugs and alcohol. Amazingly, troubled environmentalist Timothy Treadwell chose grizzly bears. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Werner Herzog’s astonishing 2005 documentary is a jaw-dropping study of how one man, consumed by his love for nature, decided the answer to his existential crisis lay in the bear colonies of the Alaskan wilderness. Told via a patchwork of fascinating interviews with Treadwell’s associates and excerpts from the eco-warrior’s own amazing video footage, Herzog recounts the staggering tale of a man who survived amongst the beasts for thirteen summers, only for he, and girlfriend Amie Hunguengard to meet their savage end at the claws the creatures he saw as his salvation.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Enticingly raw and revealing, Treadwell’s videos must have been an absolute gift to Herzog. Some of his wildlife photography, particularly one ferocious brawl between two grizzlies, is quite breath-taking. Crossing a line few would even dare approach, Timothy gets so close to these creatures that he begins to consider them his “friends”. He talks to them. He confesses he feels like one of them. His footage is both beautiful and terrifying and behaviour veers towards the troubling. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Treadwell enthusiastically confesses that he “loves” these animals and would die for them and this is, at times, irrefutably comical. His boundless enthusiasm is sweet and his dedication admirable, but his obliviousness to his own ridiculousness makes for entertaining, if uncomfortable viewing. The idea Timothy clearly has of himself as a camouflaged, Rambo-style badass, is at complete odds with his fiercely effeminate inflection that is as camp as Christmas. Giving them cutesy names like “Mr Chocolate” and “The Grinch,” he often harangues the bears, squealing like a shrill, angry mother. Guilty chuckles are to be had, as interviewees express concern that Treadwell had lost his mind, “acting like he was working with people wearing bear costumes”.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> As events unfold, Timothy appears increasingly delusional and paranoid, distrusting of humans. Ignoring federal laws that restrict human interaction with wildlife, he reveals a darker, problematic side, frequently loses his cool in frequent candid, unintentionally hilarious revelations to the camera. Whether boasting of his sexual prowess or screaming to the heavens for rain, he is compellingly watchable, often disturbingly so. As interviews with nature experts hint that Treadwell’s efforts could be have done more harm than good, a portrait of a complicated man emerges. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Timothy’s story warns against the dangers of infatuation. With delicate handling of the subject matter, Herzog’s message seems to be that the great outdoors is not the sentimental, healing place Treadwell wanted it to be. Like his subject, Herzog goes deeper than the average researcher, earning the trust of the players in this story, while being respectful and indiscriminate in his use the footage Treadwell left behind. The result is a tragic, whimsical, enlightening picture, fascinating in its depiction of man’s search for answers in a wild land that doesn’t do happy endings.<o:p></o:p></div>garyjivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687893271571728052noreply@blogger.com0