Premise: It’s very simple. Jim from The Office in a Michael Bay movie about Benghazi.
I’ve seen two movies in the past week about people surviving a nightmarish wilderness situation; Alejandro González Iñárritu’s epic frontier tale The Revenant, and some guy named Jason Zada’s first feature-length horror movie called The Forest. Up front, I’ll just tell you that I really liked The Revenant (I give it a wildernYES!) and I kind of really hated The Forest (a definite wilderNO). But was The Revenant as far on the good spectrum as The Forest was on the bad? Let’s look deeper.
Also, I won’t ruin anything major in The Revenant (because you should go check it out), but I will be honest with you, I plan on completely spoiling the entire crappy storyline to The Forest. So be warned. Forest spoilers ahead.
Premise: In what might be (?) Daniel Craig’s final Bond movie, he plays some guy named Jim Bond, who is a spy and drives cars, and kind of just assumes that rando older Italian women want to bang him (turns out they do). Why wouldn’t they, I guess? I don’t know. Leave me alone. Anyway, he fights a couple of villains in this movie who wear uncomfortably over-stylized jackets, and one of them has a ponytail. Wouldn’t it be great if there was a Bond villain who just wore a 1993 Buffalo Bills windbreaker and operated his evil corporation in an abandoned Sports Authority building in Indiana? Well, there’s always the next reboot… *closes eyes* *crosses fingers* JOSH GAD JOSH GAD JOSH GAD.
A lot of films lately have done a really good job of tapping into specific parts of my brain and causing me to have weird, uncomfortable emotional disturbances. Whiplash made me question my drive, Nightcrawler made me question my ethics, Gone Girl made me question how good I’m doing in my relationship, and Birdman just made me question the purpose of my existence. Inherent Vice, the newest movie to mess with me, confirmed a feeling in my head that I’m probably super paranoid about everything. And I don’t even take (non stomach related) drugs!
Interstellar is one of those movies where I could probably spend five minutes explaining the plot to you, because I understood basically what was going on, but the thought of actually typing it all out makes me not want to write this review. Just go see the movie. There’s parts of it that you probably won’t understand completely, but Christopher Nolan has done a good job of making it intelligent enough for smart people to appreciate, but dumb enough for dopes like me feel smart for being able to follow along. He’s such a nice man for doing that.
Between the imaginative “pew pew pew” laser battles of Guardians of the Galaxy last week, the constant reminders of most of our awkward childhood moments in Boyhood this week, and the nostalgia alarm going off full force with Ninja Turtles next week, it appears as if Hollywood is aggressively targeting 18-35 year olds like we’re part of a demographic or something…? Listen man, we’re not part of your system! [hangs up Guardians of the Galaxy poster] You can’t just like, think we’ll go spend money on all this crap because they remind us of fun things from our childhoods! [downloads Super Punch-Out on Wii-U Virtual Console] We’re like, actual people, man! Not just a generic group of sheep like you business fat cats think we are…! [uses Michelangelo bath pouf, an item I actually spent $2 on at Wal-Mart for some reason] We’re not a hive mind of pointless references! [quotes Simpsons jokes on nearly every comment thread I come across]
While I’m well aware that I’m part of the problem by giving Michael Bay $8 towards a $100 bill he will eventually use to wipe his butt with, I’m still curious as to what the motivation is for enough people to go see Transformers to earn it $301 million worldwide? How many are truly fans of the series? How many just wanted to kill some time at a summer blockbuster? How many have some secret sexual fetish for sarcastic robots with human accents? My excuse is a combination of morbid curiosity to see what visual highs/comedic lows this franchise can go to, and an almost torturous obligation to myself to see as many high-profile films in theaters as I can, despite every sign telling me to save my money and stay home. This is the same sickness that will have me groaning through Melissa McCarthy’s Tammy at some point in the next week. And I actually kind of want to see Deliver Us From Evil…? What is wrong with me…?
As an enthusiast of the “single guy runs into a building and wreaks havoc on all his foes” genre, I was very happy to see that The Raid 2 actually came to theaters out in suburbia. Apparently, so was a 70-year-old married couple, because they were also in the theater and didn’t even leave at the first sign of a guy’s leg twisting the wrong direction. I hope when I’m that old I’ll still be into shit like this.
I finally got a chance to see Lars von Trier’s much talked about epic boning saga of a woman who is recounting her entire sexual life to a complete stranger who found her bruised up and unconscious on the street. In an effort to make myself seem less pervy, I didn’t watch the director’s cut, which apparently features real sex and visible dongs going in and out of some strange. But this version still had plenty of rubber dicks and boobies. BUT IT’S A REAL FILM! UMA THURMAN IS IN IT! DON’T JUDGE ME!
Dead Man Down is a film in which I had NO idea what it was, or what it was about, or who was in it, or who directed it, etc. Every so often I just like to go see a movie in theaters that I don’t know anything about except its title and the showtime. Let’s just call the practice “Fandangoing”. Anyway, what did I find out when I saw this heartwarming little film?