Wednesday, October 22, 2008

#2: Confessions of a Superhero (Ogens, 2007)

Over the next month (10/22 - 11/22), I will be viewing and reviewing 100 films on this blog. This is entry number two in that series.

Confessions of a Superhero is one of the more thoroughly depressing documentaries I’ve ever seen. Director Matthew Ogens invites us to tour one famous stretch of Hollywood Boulevard where freelancing “actors” in homemade costumes pose as popular American icons. Dressed as anyone from Elvis Presley to Elmo, these characters pose for photographs with tourists all day long in the relentless Southern California heat. They earn no wages; their only permitted income is the unsolicited tips of charitable spectators.

Ogens’ film focuses on four of these street performers who come to work every day dressed as Superman (Christopher Dennis), Wonder Woman (Jennifer Gehrt), Batman (Maxwell Allen), and The Hulk (Joseph McQueen). Each of these jaded heroes is quixotically fascinating, though all their stories vaguely resemble those cautionary Tinseltown tales we’ve heard before.

Dennis is the ultimate obsessive-compulsive Superman fanatic. He’s elated to meet Margot Kidder, but he still tears up thinking about Christopher Reeve’s passing. Gehrt is the quintessential transplanted Midwest pageant queen; her innocent smile is saccharin, but her naivety is frightening. She realizes she may not be skinny enough to be a leading lady when her agent suggests she audition for more “voluptuous” roles.

McQueen is the foursome’s only black man. His race is rarely mentioned but it’s telling that, as a fully costumed Hulk, he’s the only hero covering up the color of his skin. McQueen can’t afford to put a mattress in his bedroom but, as he shows us the alleyway he used to live in, we understand why he’s still upbeat.

Allen, a legitimate George Clooney lookalike, is violent and possibly delusional. He attends therapy sessions—dressed like Batman, of course—and boasts about the people he killed back in Texas (“You do realize there is no statute of limitations for murder,” says his therapist at one point).

Ogens’ film is gorgeous. The settings are never dull, the colors are always rich, and the composition is unusually elegant for a documentary. The visual elements give life to the tragic limbo that imprisons these four unsatisfied people.

As a man who is only a few months away from taking the same desperate plunge, I found this film chilling. Confessions of a Superhero forces anyone with grand aspirations to reexamine their situation. Can one ever sense their own mediocrity? Am I destined for this purgatory too?

Hopefully, I’ll be the only one dressed up like Colossus.

Final Score: 86 out of 100.

#1: Can Mr. Smith Get to Washington Anymore? (Popper, 2006)

Over the next month (10/22 - 11/22), I will be viewing and reviewing 100 films on this blog. This is entry number one in that series.

Documentarian Frank Popper follows idealistic schoolteacher Jeff Smith as he runs for U.S. Congress. Jeff is energetic and plucky, but his valiant fight against our nepotistic political institutions is seemingly naïve.
Jeff Smith goes to Washington

Still from Can Mr. Smith Get Washington Anymore?

If Jeff Smith doesn't make it in politics, he might have a future in the NBA.


I liked Can Mr. Smith Get to Washington Anymore?, but I did not love it. Popper tells an interesting tale, but his limited scope and lackluster execution ultimately thwart something greater.

As a human drama, the film is unquestionably successful. Like the voters in Missouri’s 3rd Congressional District, we first see this baby-faced schoolteacher with a zero political experience and think: “This guy? Really? But he has a lisp!” Jeff’s quirky charm eventually grows on us, however. By the end of the film, we are more invested in his campaign than are his cynical parents. The problem is we never understand why. Audiences will generally root for any compelling underdog regardless of political platform. Besides anonymity, what does Jeff Smith offer his potential constituents? What differentiates him from the other candidates in the democratic primary? We’re shown a few seconds of rhetoric on reproductive rights and health insurance, but we never really find out.

The film poses an important thesis question: can the best candidate, regardless of fame or finance, still win an election? There aren’t any definitive answers. We learn the eventual fate of Jeff Smith, of course, but Popper fails to put his protagonist’s struggles in any greater context.

Why is Jeff’s road so difficult? According to his campaign staff, it’s clearly a matter of insufficient resources and reputation. Perhaps institutionalized politics really are that impenetrable, but Popper needs to show us. The film is so personal that it doesn’t allow audiences to draw any broader conclusions about the political landscape. We see in the film’s opening scenes that Jeff is barely even able to convince the members of his immediate family for support. Perhaps Jeff’s journey is made difficult because of a flawed or mismanaged campaign. The campaign managers frequently claim to be doing everything correctly; perhaps Popper should have asked for a second opinion.

100 Films in 30 Days

That’s right, folks. I pledge to view and critique 100 different films in the next month. One hundred!

Yes, I understand an appeal to quantity is the last recourse of any man whose work suffers in quality. I’m strangely comfortable with that.
On deck (courtesy of Netflix), a slew of documentaries.

Let the games begin!

Ravens 27, Dolphins 13: Fish Fall Again

Chad Pennington

Photo by Eliot J. Schechter/Getty Images via NFL.com

Quarterback Chad Pennington lost the game but did find a new proctologist.


My masochistic streak normally compels me to watch the Dolphins get pummeled every week, but my schedule was complicated this past Sunday. While Terrell Suggs was showing us his TAINT (touchdown after interception) at Dolphin Stadium, I was watching a bunch of 13 year-old boys pound each other into the boards at a AA hockey tournament. Yes, I was forced to choose between supporting my friend (who coaches youth hockey) and supporting my football team. I chose wisely.

I didn't see the game live and only a jerkoff would feign insight without watching it, so I'll just leave you with two thoughts:

1) Chad Pennington has been unexpectedly great this season, but he is not our quarterback of the future. I can't wait to see Chad Henne play more.
2) Cam Cameron is a douche.

Buffalo comes to town next; I'll post a preview soon.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

The Island of Dr. Mengele

I watch television.

I know, I know, just because TV is "cool media" doesn't mean watching it is cool. I don't care.

As a filmmaker and film student, you can believe my position isn't very popular, but I love television. I love it for the media it wants to be. And I love it for the media it almost is.

Film has one distinct inherent advantage. Viewed in its natural habitat, films enable a more effective sensory assault. Theaters are insulated from extraneous lights and sound, they effectively prohibit distractions or multitasking. Theater projected films do not beg for the audience's attention, they demand it. Television viewing (as well as home movie viewing), on the other hand, typically occurs in a far different environment. Most people who watch television are also engaged in other activities, whether they be cooking, eating, conversing, paying bills, etc.

Once that obstacle is successfully navigated, television will become the superior medium. TV programs have already transitioned to higher definitions and more superior widescreen ratios. In the past, movie ticket revenue has allowed film production budgets to soar far above their freely broadcast boob-tube counterparts. Today, cable and premium subscription networks (i.e. FX, HBO), as well as increased ad revenue, allow television programs to greatly enhance their production capabilities.

I don't really want to dive fully into my thesis, but television shares many of film's pluses while negating most of its minuses (for example: TV is produced quicker, thus it can afford to be more topical; the episodic nature of television allows greater story development and characterization).

I truly believe television will one day become the best storytelling medium. I keep watching TV, eager and ready to document its inevitable supremacy. Unfortunately, it still mostly sucks.

I'm going to start giving my loyal readers a lowdown on the TV I'm consuming (with the exception of sports and news programming), starting first with the very worst:

9) The Island (Real World/Road Rules Challenge): If reality television is terrible by definition, "The Island" is the worst of a bad genre. Nevertheless, there's something compelling about watching entitled brats in their mid-twenties backstabbing their pals, hoping to extend their "15 minutes" ever so briefly. Honestly, it's the closest thing we have to Battle Royale.

The show is a joke, but its implications are tangible. People more socially conscious than I might have problems with the casting and portrayal of these young adults. No, I'm not talking about those beautiful bouncing bikini-clad blobs of silicon. Those are awesome. Everyone likes fake boobs and every TV show has an attractive cast, no issue there.

Isn't there a deeper problem, though, when MTV sends 20 young Americans to an island and only three of them are white? In this day and age, really? What the fuck? There are two Latina women who, thus far, serve only as arm candy to the "main" characters. And then there's The Black Man. Tyrie is literally given zero screen time in the first four episodes before finally being featured in the fifth before his sudden elimination.

Thankfully, I'm not burdened with the aforementioned social conscience. I tune in for chicks making out and the hilarious misogyny of the drunken frat boys.

Up next: "The Fringe," a wildly uneven "X-Files" derivation.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Texans 29, Dolphins 28: Five reasons for Dol-fans to stay hopeful

You pooped in the fridge? And you ate the whole wheel of cheese? I'm not even mad, that's amazing...

Normally, when the Dolphin's squander a 14-3 lead in the first half, my afternoon is only going to get worse.

Characteristically, when their punt coverage unit misses a dozen tackles on a 70 yard return for a touchdown, I scream enough profanities to make Andrew Dice Clay's dirtiest hooker blush.

Typically, after a 4th and 2 defensive meltdown with 0:03 seconds left in the game, I throw my Coors Light at the television screen (if not the Texans fans sitting next to me).

Usually, yesterday's astonishing loss would have hit me harder than Kimbo Slice with brass knuckles.

The good news: this season has been anything but normal.

In all honesty, I'm not mad. I'm disappointed and a little stunned, but I'm not angry. I'm not even all that discouraged.

How could any lifelong Dol-fan remain so optimistic after such a seemingly devastating loss? I'm glad you asked. I've compiled five good reasons why you should still be happy about where the Dolphins are at too:

5) They lost to the Houston Texans. They always lose to the Texans. You knew, deep down in your heart-of-hearts, that this wasn't going to be an easy game. The Texans came into this game winless, but they aren't a below average team. You want to win every game... but, if you have to take a loss, isn't it better to be defeated by a winless team? Surely you remember how tangible the dread feels, viscous and black, as it slowly floods your mind each week as you impatiently clamor for your team's first win.

Andre Johnson

Don't forget, the Texans also have four ex-Fins on their team. You know you secretly wish Morlon Greenwood, Sage Rosenfels, Matt Turk, and Jeff Zgonina all find success (okay, okay, maybe not Matt Turk). If you're from South Florida, you might also be a Hurricanes fan, and watching the dynamic Andre Johnson is always exciting.

4) The Dolphins have a bad secondary, a bad receiving corps, and a disastrous special teams unit*. I know what you're thinking: "Wait a minute, that's not a good thing." You'd be wrong.

Consider the statement's flip side: the Dolphins do not have a bad offensive line, defensive line, running back corps, linebacker corps, or quarterback. Doesn't that make you smile, just a little bit? Last year every one of those units was below average. For a few of them, it was because of injuries; for most of them, it was a lack of quality personnel.

The Three Musketeers (there must be a better nickname for Bill Parcells, Jeff Ireland, and Tony Sparano out there somewhere... really, this needs to be addressed) did a great job in one off-season at the positions where help was needed most desperately. The Dolphin's offensive line and defensive front seven honestly look pretty good. Joey Porter, Matt Roth, and (to my surprise) Channing Crowder are playing like Pro Bowlers.

3) Going into week seven, the Miami Dolphins are completely healthy. Crowder went down yesterday, but he returned almost immediately. As far as I can tell the Dolphins sustained Zero significant injuries this weekend. After six weeks, everyone on the team is healthy. Let me reiterate: everyone on the team is healthy. That's unheard of in the NFL.

At this point last year, the starting SS (Yeremiah Bell), the starting QB (Trent Green), and the starting RB (Ronnie Brown) were all on the injured reserve list and out for the remainder of the season. An uninjured team is probably just a lucky team, but it sure is nice to finally have a few breaks go the Dolphins way.



Speaking of differences between this year and the last...

2) The Dolphins will not finish 1-15 this season. Barring a retroactive forfeit, IT'S IMPOSSIBLE. The Dolphins are 2-3 right now, but their schedule gets easier every week.

Four of their next five games are at home (BAL, BUF, @Den, SEA, OAK); all of them are very winnable. Seattle and Oakland are a combined 2-8 and Baltimore's rookie Joe Flacco is likely to get the "Matt Cassel treatment" from the Dolphin's physical defense. Buffalo won't be easy and Denver's Jay Cutler could very well decimate the Dolphin's secondary, but the team be at least 5-5 after week eleven.

This year's team is healthier, more talented, and considerably better coached than it last year's.

1) The Dolphins are a legitimate 2008 Playoff contender. Really. They are.

I guarantee at least one team from the AFC East will earn a Wildcard berth. The AFC is weaker than ever before. The Colts will fade (yes, I saw Peyton this weekend, but it's an aberration, they're done) and the Ravens will falter. The Jaguars will stick around; the Chargers probably will not (and remember, the Dolphins own the tie-breaker there).

I'm not sure how the AFC East will go down, but I do think all four teams will finish at or above .500. This weekend's loss hurt, but it wasn't a backbreaker. The Dolphins need to win their upcoming home game against Buffalo. I know we're looking ahead, but the Dolphins must win their final regular season game against the Jets. To have a real shot at winning the division the Dolphins have to finish at least 4-2 in the AFC East. The Dolphins still get to play the two worst teams in the AFC West and the three worst teams in the NFC West. 10-6 is not even a stretch at this point.

Are you convinced yet? Perhaps not.

Hopefully you're at least feeling more sanguine after yesterday's meltdown. I know I am.

Honorable mentions: (1) My fantasy team (2-4) finally won this weekend. Maurice Jones-Drew showed his firsts signs of life. Both of those unexpected events make me happy. (2) Ronnie Brown is a bona fide beast. He leads the NFL with seven offensive touchdowns.

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*disastrous special teams unit - It's very possible that special teams coach John Bonamego needs to be fired. I don't know much about Bonamego, except that he held the same job with the Saints and that he was mildly successful with Reggie Bush. Tedd Ginn Jr. is no Reggie Bush. Sadly, he's no Davone Bess either.

Both our coverage and our return units are consistently horrible. Something needs to change. Man, I miss Coach Westhoff.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Calling Captain Planet

In fiction filmmaking, as in most narrative mediums, character perfection is vital. Maintaining the delicate balance between specifics and generalities is particularly tricky. If your characters aren’t detailed enough, you risk making an inauthentic film. If your characters are too nuanced, audiences might not grasp your vision. Realism is often coveted—and rightfully so, but is there no place for the archetype anymore?

Well, that depends on the type of film. I’m not a huge fan of genre theory, the genres themselves are often too vaguely defined and, when articulating in those terms, you risk having a lot of people misinterpret your ideas. Purists may argue against “suspense,” “action,” and “horror” even being considered genres, but the terms merit use. I’d argue that films of that sort can actually be enhanced by the inclusion of archetypal characters (unlike the melodrama, for instance). Characters should never be cut from cardboard, of course, but sometimes it’s more engaging when their personas transcend their situation.

While “spectacle” may be the action flick’s most important element, the hero is likely its most important character. For an action film to be successful, the protagonist needs fresh quirks and a signature phrase, but also a plethora of qualities that exceed his particular situation and tie in closely with the genre. It’s important that our action hero is strong and decisive, or at least plucky and resilient. The hero unquestionably evolves over time—Dirty Harry was embraced as vigilant and anti-establishment because audiences in the early ‘70s were fed up with serial killers and corrupt politicians; Christian Bale’s Dark Knight, were he really to exist, would likely be involved in several simultaneous ACLU lawsuits, but audiences in 2008 are legitimately comfortable with police sometimes illegally tapping phones to triangulate the ne’er-do-well. Traditional heroes in any action film have more commonalities than differences. Each one, however, still embodies non-transferable traits specific to the context in which the feature was created. Society is always perpetually diseased and, ideally, the action hero personifies each new generation's cure.

In horror, the hero takes a backseat to the villain. If a hero represents a perceived solution, does it follow that the villain represents a perceived problem? To the anecdotal evidence, Batman! Some of the earliest celluloid villains come from German Expressionism. In From Caligari to Hitler: A Psychological History of German Film, author and film critic Siegfried Kracauer argues Germans in the early 20th century suffered from “a fear of chaos and a desire for order, even at the price of authoritarian rule.”* His theory corroborates with M (Lang, 1931) and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Wiene, 1920).

Mary Shelley’s 19th century canonical novel, Frankenstein, is viewed by many as a cautionary tale of science and industry meddling recklessly in realms forbidden to man. The 1931 silent Universal film adaption (dir. James Whale) is markedly different. In the film, Frankenstein’s monster is humanized—his creator regards him as a man (he’s even given a name), though not an intelligent one. In Shelley’s novel, the monster self-educates himself with literature and eventually learns to speak—in the film, Boris Karloff is a mute and a simpleton. The contrast between the two sources is distinct: Shelley’s monster is a victim; Universal’s monster is a villain.

What then, does this cinematic monster represent? If German Expressionism warned us to fear the demons inside of us, Frankenstein (and The Mummy, Dracula, etc.) cautioned us against an external monsters coming to a neighborhoods near you. Universal’s "Golden Age of horror” catalog was really a cornucopia of xenophobic horror pictures. These villains were foreigners, they were sexually ambiguous, and they were Godless. Imagine all the uptight white men of that era who feared the influx of immigrants and the subsequent consequences (i.e. miscegenation). Here comes Count Dracula, an Eastern European heretic who is hell-bent on sneaking into your daughter’s room tonight to literally tarnish your bloodline.

Marco Lanzagorta of PopMatters.com explains, “Horror is about transgressing boundaries and norms. If you think about it, monsters are creatures that challenge biological, physical, social, and even moral rules. And truth be told, it is such an attitude of contravening rules that ultimately makes them dangerous to our world…” His statement is insightful, but perhaps less relevant to the genre as it exists today. If your goal is to frighten the conservative vanguard, then yes, you would certainly do well to challenge their various social and moral cornerstones. Change is inevitable and it can be fucking terrifying, but consider moviegoers in the 1960s and 1970s. The audience became increasingly younger. Do anyone honestly believe teenagers of that era were deeply threatened by boundary transgression or the violation of social conventions? Between the Civil Rights movement, the Vietnam War, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the assassinations (of Martin Luther King Jr., Robert Kennedy, and Malcolm X), and the Watergate scandals, any vague threats of “change” or “progress” that remained had unsurprisingly lost their zest. Young men and women simply were not scared by a potential cultural paradigm shift because the shift had already occurred. Change was omnipresent, and the anachronistic scarecrows of the previous decades failed to frighten any longer.

So if communist body snatchers and Hungarian immigrants were no longer menacing, what was?

In the summer of 1975, Steven Spielberg found unfathomable success with Jaws, his horror epic about a big fish that terrorizes a small town. Jaws. Consider the villain: a ferocious great white shark with an insatiable taste for human blood. The monster was absolutely terrifying, but could it challenge the biological, physical, social, or moral rules of its society? Not really.

Now consider the iconic opening scene of the film. A dozen long-haired teens sit around a bonfire at a late night beach party. They dance, drink, smoke dope, and appear to preparing for love and not war. Chrissie and Tom, who have just met, leave the party in search of a more private venue. Chrissie strips as she runs down the beach. Tom follows in hot pursuit and drunkenly speaks the film’s first line of dialogue:

What’s your name again?

Chrissie giggles, then dives—naked—into the dark blue water. Tom passes out while undressing on the beach. Seconds later, John Williams' infamous Pavlovian death-score is cued up, informing Jaws breakfast has been served. What, then, do we know about the first victim? Chrissie is young, she is blonde, she is attractive, she is part of the counter-culture, she uses drugs, she drinks alcohol, and she is sexual (if not promiscuous). Oh, and she is shark bait. When juxtaposed, there’s a complete reversal of roles. The victims are mostly benign, but they've challenging the societal norms. The villain, conversely, is assigned a new role—Jaws is the sentry! The shark literally swims around Amity Island, patrolling the waters for social deviants.

The 1930s-1950s villains represented unknown culture and institutional change, effectively frightening old audiences unsure of how to adapt in a modern world. The 1970s (and 1980s) villains were invariably shaped by the modern world itself—they existed because of the deviation in social norms. When newspapers reported declining church membership, people were especially terrified when watching The Exorcist (Friedkin, 1973) or The Omen (Donner, 1976). Poltergeist (Spielberg, 1982) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Hooper, 1974) warned, in vastly different ways, against the potential pitfalls of rapid suburbanization. Carrie (De Palma, 1976) and Halloween (Carpenter, 1978), depending on your vantage point, were either horrific essays on the long-term and societal effects of child abuse or paranoid exaggerations of thalidomide birth defects.

The delineation was clear. Villains from the Golden Age of horror were mostly unsympathetic and always indiscriminate; villains of the ‘70s and early-‘80s were products of their respective environments. They were partially tragic creatures charged with bringing their wildly liberal youth movement back toward the center.

After approximately 497 million combined Friday the 13th/Nightmare on Elm Street sequels, producers shied away from big budget horror films through most of the 1990s. Several high grossing exceptions are The Silence of the Lambs (Demme, 1991) and Seven (Fincher, 1995), which are both grotesquely wonderful, but should probably be considered “thrillers”; the underrated Bram Stoker’s Dracula (Coppola, 1992); stylistically provoking but canonically irrelevant The Blair Witch Project (Myrick & Sanchez, 1999); Universal’s family-style remake of The Mummy (Sommers, 1999); and the poetically intriguing Interview With A Vampire (Jordan, 1994). None of those films revolutionized the genre, though it’s worth noting all the vampires featured in Interview and Dracula are flamboyantly tragic figures.

Two films from then significantly affected the genre, The Sixth Sense (Shyamalan, 1999) and Scream (Craven, 1996). The Sixth Sense didn’t really have a villain, but it did pave the way for a new Hollywood sub-genre aptly titled "crappy M. Night Shyamalan films." Scream is perhaps the most interesting horror film of the '90s, in that it is sufficiently self aware. Its characters have seen more horror films than you; not only do they know the genre’s conventions, they'll iterate them to you didactically whenever convenient. The victims are killed off in an order we expect from a typical ‘70s slasher film (sexually deviant characters are killed first, drug users are stabbed next, etc.), but the film gives its audience reasons more satisfying than “God always smites the unrighteous.” The film's villains are actually unveiled to be students of the horror genre. They intentionally kill their victims according to the principles established in '70s horror; their well-machinated effort is equal parts social commentary and self-amusement. Wes Craven’s film is triumphant because it functions on two levels: a post-modern deconstruction of the genre, and a genuinely scary festival of death.

In the first half of this decade, American theaters were clogged with shot-by-shot remakes of Japanese and Korean horror. Since those films are essentially exact replicas of their foreign predecessors, and since I have zero understanding of the cultures from which they were appropriated, I cannot intelligently discuss their relevance to modern horror.

Over the past several years, a new theme has emerged: the heroes are the villains. Man as his own enemy is not conceptually new, but this isn't a Jekyll and Hyde/duality of man rehashing. Human perpetrated environmental fallout is the new cinematic rage. The appeal is obvious—an angry Mother Nature is a terrific catalyst of action, capable of causing many explosions. The story is poetic—in the end, we only hurt ourselves (and maybe kittens and puppies too). The ending is appropriately ambiguous—has man been salvaged? Will he survive for a sequel?

I’m not sure who to blame for the ensuing eco-horror trend (Al Gore, maybe?), but we inevitably must look at the recent resurgence in disaster films. The Day After Tomorrow (Emmerich, 2004) was a below average faux-apocalypse movie, memorable only because mankind was threatened—not because God was hurtling inter-galactic meteors at France or Zeus was downing trans-continental passenger jets with bolts of uber-lightning—but because our own species was irrevocably damaging its ecosystem. Mother Nature wasn’t angry, she was entering menopause.

The movie garnered lukewarm reviews, but the theme spread, and was eventually co-opted by the horror genre (including two "films" from earlier this year). In The Happening, M. Night Shyamalan’s latest pitiable effort, flora has declared war on fauna. In The Day After Tomorrow, men were slowly and indirectly driving themselves toward extinction; in The Happening, angry trees actually conspire against the pesky human opposition! The trees pump chemicals into urban parks and nearby citizens (litterers and recyclers alike) commit suicide en masse. I started to fall asleep in the last act, but I'm pretty sure the humans surrendered formally at Appomattox Courthouse (after promising the Plant King to reduce carbon emissions by 18% before 2020).


Most film historians remember the "carnivorous plant" subgenre peaking with The Day of the Triffids (Sekely, 1962). DreamWorks SKG, hoping to revitalize the elusive Little Shop of Horrors (Corman, 1960) demographic, released The Ruins (dir. Carter Smith) earlier this year. Unlike the vindictive trees in The Happening, the evil vines from The Ruins probably won't be voting for Ralph Nader. Their agenda really doesn't extend much further than devouring human flesh and giggling like school girls.

Where, then, do we go from here? Will horror filmmakers ever become innovative with these leafy-green villains? Is there a live action Bushroot film in the works? Are we five years away from another Wes Craven satire where a talking fungus (voiced by Matthew Lillard) explains to his furry forest friends that the next pretty young redwood to get chopped down will be the one who promises to “be right back” or engages in premarital sex with a lumberjack? Sorry folks, I don't have the answers. Horror films are more ridiculous than ever, but so is the world surrounding them. Perhaps our environment is indeed this generation’s super villain, but that only begs the next question—who will become our new heroes?

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FOOTNOTES:

*From Caligari to Hitler - I've never actually read this book... but I bet it's awesome anyway. So click on the link, purchase a copy, and let me know how it goes.

Monday, October 6, 2008

God Hates Fangs



If you're lucky enough to have a copy of my “Coolest Things, Ever” list, you probably already know several things about me.

First, I use commas way too frequently. I even embed them in the titles of my lists. I can’t help it. Punctuation is like ketchup: it makes everything taste better... and you can always do to add more... and they're both high in sodium.

Second, my interests are varied and unquestionably marvelous (But you don't have to take Run DMC's word for it). Here are a few items that cracked my Top 250:

246. Isaac the bartender from “The Love Boat”

187. Medieval war machines

112. Steven Seagal

106. Funny talking Southerners who live near swamps

86. Black holes

73. The movie Roadhouse

52. Evil blood-sucking vampires

34. Flagrantly homosexual black dudes

31. Any HBO television series

19. Anna Paquin

4. Misunderstood “heart of gold” vampires

2. Boobies

I know what you’re thinking: “Good call, boobies rule.” Yeah, they do.

I know what else you’re thinking: “Wait, 86% of that list can be found on that new fall show ‘True Blood,’ why hasn’t Lumpy reviewed it yet?”

Good question, loyal readers. The new HBO show “True Blood” does incorporate many of the coolest things in my universe. And yes, I have been watching it regularly. So what’s the verdict? Meh.

I’ll wait until the end of the first season to give it a proper review, but so far I'm sticking with “meh.” It’s disappointing. Almost tragic when compared to the fucking bad-ass opening credit sequence that begins every episode.

See for yourself:

Dolphins vs. Chargers -- Post-game thoughts

Sunday afternoon, the Miami Dolphins (2-2) defeated the visiting San Diego Chargers (2-3), 17-10. Last year, the Dolphins finished with a franchise worst 1-15 record. The Chargers were defeated in the AFC Championship Game. In yesterday's contest, the Dolphins almost doubled the Chargers' total offensive output (390 yards from scrimmage to 202); the Dolphins had zero offensive turnovers and committed only one penalty (for five yards). They finished the game with over a 13 minute advantage in time of possession.

Ronnie Brown carried the ball 24 times for 125 yards and one touchdown (he has seven combined rushing and passing touchdowns a quarter of the way through the season). Over the past two games, Chad Pennington's is completing his passes 79.5% of the time, and his quarterback rating is over 110 (compared to career averages of 65.7% and 89.1, respectively). Since their season opener, the Dolphins' offensive line has allowed three sacks in three games (giving up one coverage sack in yesterday's effort). Linebackers Joey Porter and Matt Roth are on pace for to record 30 combined sacks this season. The Dolphins' defense held all-pro running back LaDainian Tomlinson to 35 rushing yards on 12 carries. They also gave up only one play of over 25 yards, and held quarterback Phillip Rivers to 46.4% in pass completions.

Reread those first two paragraphs... go ahead, I'll wait. Notice I shied away from subjective language. Notice that the story still reads the same: the Dolphins beat the Chargers' ass.

Chris Chambers

For the second game in a row, the Dolphins destroyed their opponent in every category possible (except special teams*). Norv Turner was outcoached by Tony Sparano, the Chargers' O-line was decimated by the Dolphins' D-line, Chad had all day in the pocket, the Chargers' D-- which had plenty of time to dissect the Wildcat formation-- was unable to defend against it.

Miami's offense can't really be considered explosive, but it's creative, productive, exciting, efficient, and successful. Wow, it's been a long time since you could type that with a straight face.

Will the Dolphins finally emerge victorious after playing the Texans next weekend? I think so. Can the Dolphins contend for a playoff spot this season? Yes, they can. Wow.

Wow.

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* special teams - I do like rookie kicker Dan Carpenter, but, on the whole, I agree with David Hyde's assertion that the Dolphins' special teams aren't exactly "special" in the good way.