Technology Commentary in "Cloverfield"

This essay has some pretty serious spoilers.


At your local theater is a film called Untraceable which, from what I've seen, is a blatant jab at Americans for being obsessed with technology and violence. It is basically telling us about the evils of the internet and the crazy people on there. We get it! The internet is the filthy old man of technology. However, the other film currently playing that suggests our culture's dependence upon technology is Matt Reeves' Cloverfield.

By using hand held personal cameras, it makes the entire world of the film that much more real. The camera used in the film out-survives the main characters. Early in the film Hud is tricked into documenting a good-bye party, but decides to have fun with it. However, as the events of the night unfold, he carries on his duty of chronicling the adventure. Several times you hear someone saying 'Put the camera down' but at no point is Hud, the cameraman, willing to stop documenting the event. In the end only the technology survives... creepy.

The most humorous example of our use/obsession with technology is when the party-goers flood onto the street and experience the head of the Statue of Liberty landing in front of them. Within seconds there are at least a dozen people using their camera phones to capture the giant bronze head. Hilarious? Yes, in a creepy 'I don't know how or why this is happening, but I have time to camera phone this crazy shit' kind of way.

When the main characters are hiding in the subway, the most emotional and disturbingly real use of the camera comes. When Rob's mother calls and he must tell her that his brother was killed, the camera stays a good distance away, giving a strong feeling of voyeurism. All I could think of while this was going on was the video I saw when they brought Heath Ledger's body out from his apartment. There are people going through an incredibly emotional time, but all other people can think is that it'll look really good on TV or in a magazine.

Earlier in the film, Rob goes to steal a battery for his phone. Hud chases after him with the camera and we see my favorite use of technology in the film. While in the store we get video footage of television... several televisions. That's reflexive. We also see Hud spin around at one point to see all the looters staring at the news. They stopped looting in order to watch TV. I know they want to know what's going on, but it's just funny to see looters taking a break in the store they're robbing to see some TV.

So those are a few of the examples I saw in the film that can be viewed as a commentary about America's obsession and dependency with technology. With a second viewing and some writing utensils I could probably write a good four to five page paper if anyone is interested in purchasing it.

Meet the Spoofs

It is true and I will not deny it. I saw Meet the Spartans last evening. Before you shiv me, let me give you the details. After seeing Cloverfield (which I would review, but I'd be the third) I made my way into a different theater thinking it was the bathroom. I pulled my pants down and sat down in one of the soft chairs. Before I could wonder 'Why are there so many other toilets in here?' or 'Where will my #2 go?' I was transported to ancient Sparta. Sadly, the film contained almost none of the scenes from the preview. More sadly, it did have some good parts.

There were several actors who appeared in the film that made the 101% 300 based storyline occasionally bearable. (Yes, I will admit that I laughed occasionally but mostly because of how bad it was.) The most important of these actors was Hercules himself, Kevin Sorbo. Why the hell didn't this guy do any comedy before? He was hilarious in the over buff, shirt missing demi-god sort of way. If you, like my dear friend Seth, pick it up from the $4.99 shelf at Blockbuster be prepared to laugh (one of the five times during the movie) when Hercules gets in on a "You're Momma" contest. Also appearing in this film was Carmen Electra. I never really found her all the attractive with her 'polar bear/snake face' but I was hoping so hard that her minimal clothes would somehow become even more... minimal. There was also an appearance by Ken Davitian, better known as Azamat Bagatov from Borat. He was actually the best part of the film and I vowed not to ruin it for you (two of the five times you will laugh during the movie).

It would be fair to say that the spoof genre pretty much died with the first Scary Movie, but it will continue to linger. Once in awhile there is a spoof that I can consider bearable. I personally thought that Scary Movie 4 was better than the previous two. I also thought that Not Another Teen Movie had several good moments. These films can never reach the caliber of Naked Gun and I don't think can with they type of people buying tickets to them. Scary Movie was a good spoof because the movies it spoofed were good movies. Now, the spoof films have movies like Stomp the Yard and You've Been Served and How She Move as material and as a result end up using the entire plot from one decent film and bad celebrity impersonators to fill the holes. If the films that are there to be spoofed are worth spoofing, then the spoof film will work. Make sense?

I am an intelligent man in my early 20's who spend a bit of money to learn how to make movies and I hope nobody thinks that I loved this movie and camped out the night before to purchase tickets. It was free and I never expected another Scary Movie, even though it was made by two of the writes of Scary Movie. I knew it would be crap parodying crap and that was the humor I wanted after watching Cloverfield.

Joining The Cult As A Posthumous Fan

Being born in the 80’s, there were a lot of culturally significant things that I missed. Unfortunately, before I was born there were a slew of important bands that formed and broke up, all without me being able to see them in concert. When I first heard The Doors, I fell in love. But, as I like to do with so many bands I love, seeing them live was never an option for me. The day Johnny Cash died, I saw the Bouncing Souls play at Irving Plaza in New York City. They ended their set playing “Folsom Prison Blues” as a tribute to the Man in Black, but at the time, I only knew The Simpsons’ parody of the song, which Krusty sang. A few weeks later, the singer in my band played more of Cash’s music for me, and I fell in love. It was pretty poor timing. Christmastime, 2002: I knew that “Combat Rock” was a great album, but I was just discovering how amazing “London Calling,” “The Clash,” and other albums by the seminal punk band were, when I would wake up to hear that Joe Strummer died of an unexpected heart-attack. That long sought after reunion that was finally in talks would not go off at the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony as planned.

Every band that I love that no longer tours or makes new music is like an opportunity missed, but for what its worth, it was out of my hands. The Clash stopped touring and making music before I even became interested in music, and Johnny Cash—though his last few albums were nothing short of fantastic—was certainly not performing the way he did back at Folsom or San Quentin. I’ve seen some “old rockers” live, and it’s obvious that I would have been better off having been born at least 20 years earlier. I defy you to find a positive review of the recent Police reunion. Even their drummer Stewart Copeland had nothing good to say.

I may have missed several opportunities, but I’ve done all I can: I’ve bought the CDs (or downloaded the tracks legally), watched the DVDs, attempted the solo stuff where applicable, watched the biopics, etc. etc. These things are out of my hands.

Other things weren’t out of my hands, and for this, I should be punished. I recently finished watching season three of Mitchell Hurwitz’s critically acclaimed TV show “Arrested Development,” and when that first credit began to stream at the end of the thirteenth episode, so did the tears from my eyes. This TV show was nothing short of brilliant, and for three glorious seasons spanning from 2003-2006, I successfully avoided it. This was no easy feat: all roommates with whom I shared living quarters during this time period were fans. I literally left the room when they would watch, because I just wasn’t interested. It wouldn’t be until it was too late that I discovered just how perfect a TV show this was, from the writing to the casting to the acting. And what really hurts the most is that it might as well have been my fault that it was cancelled. See, the show won tons and tons of awards, was so critically acclaimed that you could forget that it aired on Fox, and had some of the most loyal fans ever. Yet, it was cancelled due to lack of viewership. Imagine if I had tuned in. The difference I could have made….

I’m not sure if this is a lesson I can truly learn from. Before discovering “Arrested Development,” I took the cue from my friends and watched seasons one and two of “Lost” in time to catch the premier of season three. I bought “Heroes” season one and had a marathon viewing so that season two would fit nicely in my schedule. But these are the exceptions. I loved the first episode of “Pushing Daisies” but haven’t watched one since; after over $100 in expenses for the first three seasons of “Nip/Tuck,” I’ve abandoned it completely—and not over a lack of interest.

They call “Arrested Development” a cult classic, which is generally reserved for failures that have a small, yet extremely loyal following. Perhaps my lack of consistency comes from my fear of cults. Or maybe it’s more. Maybe I have some sort of sadomasochistic tendency that forces me to show my love for things only when it’s too late. Whatever the case may be, its clear that I have a problem. Consider this my call for help.

I Don't Hate the Oscars This Year

Usually, I'm not that into the Oscars as there are usually a lot of films that are nominated because they are "important" issue films or overdramatic Oscar bait. (See Million Dollar Baby, Crash) This year, however, I am very interested in the awards, especially in the best picture category. I still won't watch the three hours of filler that comprise the show(if it even happens), but I'll be checking the papers the next morning with some enthusiasm. This is the first year I have ever seen all five films nominated for Best Picture, and while there is only one of them I really want to win, I could be okay with any of them. 

Juno is this year's big indie film. I kind of expected a nomination for it simply based on all the Little Miss Sunshine comparisons. Basically, both films were indie films that managed to cross over to mainstream audiences and take in some big box office. While it is a quality film, I believe its these qualities that have made it a Best Picture nominee.

Michael Clayton is the nominee that I am the most surprised about, as it seemed to have garnered the least attention out of the five films. It's a great film and is very similar to Sidney Lumet's The Verdict starring Paul Newman. Michael Clayton also has my favorite final shot of 2007, featuring a steady shot on George Clooney as his cab drives around. It's very similar to the final shot in The Graduate where the camera is just running, there's no dialogue, and the effects of the events of the film are seen in the tired eyes of Clooney. Again, loved the film, but still not my pick for Best Picture.

Atonement probably has the most beautiful cinematography of the bunch and the most use of the "c" word on film. It's never actually said, but you see it typed almost a million times. That's right, a million. The previous record holder was She-Devil starring Roseanne. Joe Wright has made a film more erotic and depressing than any others this year, but I don't quite think its "the" Best Picture.

No Country for Old Men, or NCFOM as my mom called it when she confused the shit out of me with a text message, is almost my pick for Best Picture. Almost, so close. It is beautifully shot, well written, incredibly acted, but there is still one who trumps it.

There Will Be Blood is without a doubt, my favorite movie out of these nominees and quite possibly, of 2007. I had never seen a Daniel Day-Lewis movie, nor had I seen a Paul Thomas Anderson movie prior to this film. Just based on the strength of There Will Be Blood, I went out and bought Gangs of New York, Magnolia, and Boogie Nights the following week. This film is great in every way. Day-Lewis is so wonderfully single minded and insane, in anyone else's hands, it would fall flat or be seen as over the top. This is a man who hates people so much, he just wants to make enough money so he won't have to interact with anyone. Paul Dano as Eli Sunday is just as crazy and greedy, but he masks his ambitions with the church. The music is just as haunting and scary as the score to The Shining and makes a film that no one would think to classify as a horror movie feel exactly like one. The overall package is so wonderfully put together by P.T. Anderson that all I can say is that I love this movie. It deserves Best Picture, but if it doesn't get it, I won't be as disappointed thanks to the nominees this year that are almost just as good.

On a side note, it's worth noting that Atonement, There Will Be Blood, and No Country for Old Men each have a title that just scream out for a titular line in the film, yet don't fulfill the viewer's desire for one. Each would have been just a little bit better if the following lines were in them:

"This is my...Atonement."

"This is simply...No Country for Old Men."

"There Will Be Blood...oh, yes, There Will Be Blood."

That's just another point for There Will Be Blood as it had the opportunity to squeeze in not one, but two mentions of the title into one line. Hopefully, these lines will find their way into deleted scenes on the DVDs. 

Five Little Pleasures

It's doesn't take much to say you love a movie because it's so good. There's beautiful lighting, the characters are real, the acting is superb, etc. I spent four years in college and learned all about what makes a good film great. But what makes certain bad film entertaining AKA a guilty pleasure? I have chosen my five favorite not so great movies that I will always view as legendary and if I see it on TNT on Sunday at 2... that shit is staying on.

I will point out that all 5 of my top entertaining, non-award worthy films were all released in a 5 year period. Perhaps mid-late 90's to the beginning of the second millennium was just the best time for these films to prosper.

5. Anaconda (1997)
Let's start with the cast of this film: J. Lo, when her ass was still larger than her ego, Owen Wilson getting eaten by a snake, Ice Cube, and Robin Williams's dad from Jumaji (which was number 9 on this list). It's a good cast with not horrible acting ability. Wait, I forgot we also have Papa Jolie, Jon Voight, as one creepy ass dude who takes the team of documentary makers hostage and forces them to help him hunt down a giant snake just because he's crazy. Genius. The movie is full of amazingly cheap dialogs, stereotypical 1997 CGI, and pure entertainment.

4. Cable Guy (1996)
Ace Venture vs. Ferris Bueller at Medieval Times. That shit is classically stupid entertainment. I don't care if the rest of the movie is just Jim Carrey trying to one-up the kookiness of any past or future role. That's all I have to say about that.

3. Face Off (1997)
Can you pitch this movie without it sounding like the greatest plot for an action film? No, you can't. I tried. Impossible. A FBI agent switches faces with a bad guy in order to get the bad guy's brother to tell the agent where a bomb is, but things turn hairy when they bad guy gets the agent's face! There's also John Travolta making fun of his own chin, ambiguous incest tension, Nicolas Cage in one of his few awesome roles, and doves. As far as action movies go, I think this one is probably one of my favorite. Many of you have to agree, but you can also say Total Recall, which I will allow.

2. Shanghai Noon (2000)
Around the same time, Jackie Chan had started another franchise in which there was rushing and hours. However, I prefer this film since I find Chris Tuckers voice makes my ears bleed within 13 seconds. Also, Owen Wilson is a much better compliment to Jackie Chan as far as buddy comedy pairings go. The main reason I think this film is such a guilty pleasure is because it's a Martial Arts Western Comedy. The only other film that fits into that category is... nothing. Since this film is one of a kind, it deserves the second place spot in my list of guilty pleasure movies.

1. A Knight's Tale (2001)
This is not my number one because I'm dedicating it to Heath Ledger. It is number one because there are very few people, who will say 'No' to this film. In all the years of school, when I brought up that I love this movie to other film students, even though it's nothing special, everyone has always agreed that it is one of their favorite bad movies. I believe what makes this film great is that it crosses even more genres than Shanghai Noon. This film is an Historic Action Romantic Comedy Musical. I don't mean musical in the sense that there's singing and dancing, but because the soundtrack makes this film such a guilty pleasure. When else have you (or where else will you) hear Freddie Mercury belting out "We Will Rock You" during a Medieval jousting tournament? Not in The Cable Guy. This film crosses all of these genres and that is what makes it so great and more entertaining than any other guilty pleasure film. Also because it is the film that will always come to mind when you mention Heath Ledger... except very much possibly The Dark Knight (I hope).

REVIEW: Akbar's Indian Cuisine: It's a Trap...of Deliciousness

Or How I Almost Ate A Warm Towelette

During my years at Hofstra University on Long Island, if we wanted to go to the mall or movie theater, we would pass by an Indian restaurant called Akbar's. Being people who loved Star Wars, it was only natural that someone would yell out "It's a trap!" as we drove by, just as the fish headed Admiral Akbar screamed in Return of the Jedi. Eventually, my enjoyment of Indian food transformed this restaurant from a joke to a curiosity.

Now, for those who don't know, I started a diet several weeks ago. It's not too hard to stick to, but it's not exactly easy either. The thing is, I've allowed myself to have about two meals during the weekend where I don't adhere to the plan. I've decided that for the most part, I don't want these meals wasted on somewhere like Friday's or any of its many clones. I want to try new foods and new restaurants, which led my lovely fiancee Chrystal and me to finally trying Akbar's last night.

First off, Akbar's is a beautiful restaurant. It's very open, very bright and very clean. We might have just gone at a slow part of the night, but the service was incredible. At least 8 people asked me if I wanted something to drink before I finally ordered a glass of wine. (Chrystal had the fortitude to stick with water, I just couldn't say no to those people) As for the food, it was a huge step up for someone who had only enjoyed take-out Indian food at work. The garlic naan was fluffy and flavorful and the chicken biryani was better than I've ever had before.

After they cleared our table of all the dinner plates, the put out a plate with two rolled up white and yellow things which looked to me, like some sort of rolled white chocolate. If anyone's ever been to a Thai restaurant, you've probably had a free dessert at the end of the meal that's like a white chocolate wrapped in banana leaves. This is the kinda thing it was. Luckily, the waiter noticed me pondering the plate and said "That's for wiping off your hands." Holy crap, I almost ate a warm, moist towelette. The actual desserts we had were far more delicious than the towel would have been. I had carrot pudding, which didn't actually have a pudding-like consistency, but was more like ground up warm carrots that were incredibly sweet. As for Chrystal, she had...milk balls? They were good, but neither their texture nor appearance is appetizing. It was three brown balls sitting in honey. Three brown balls in a yellow substance. Not what you imagine when capping off your meal, but Chrystal dove in and tried them and was pleasantly surprised.

So, after 4 years of imagining the proprietor of Akbar's to be a fish-headed admiral from a galaxy far far away, I have to say that Akbar's is truly a great restaurant in addition to being a source of puns for Star Wars geeks. I can't wait til the next time we go there so I can enjoy that sweet, sweet carrot pudding again.

Unpleasant Surprise

There’s one ritual that always pretenses a weekend that contains no major plans, and that is the weekly movie check. Usually around midmorning on any given Friday, I’ll check Fandango just to see if it’ll be one of those “oh yeah, I forgot that was coming out!” moments, or, like this week, one of those “I’m less surprised by a movie that I forgot was coming out so soon, and more surprised by the very amount of total crap that they fund.”

This morning’s trip to Fandango showed me the following results for the theater near me (which is most likely typical of any theater not privately owned, that would show your basic widely released movies):

How She Move new!
Meet the Spartans new!
Rambo new!
Untraceable new!

Just the third weekend into 2008, and we’re already beginning to fill the yearly quota of stereotypes (and, all in one weekend!). Allow me to explain*:

“How She Move” is one of those MTV produced gems about attractive and talented people that either a) face some sort of adversity, b) must practice said talent in private, c) must use said talent to compete in some sort of street competition, or d) all of the above. Wild guess: it’s a d. I know these movies have their audience, and I know I’m not among them, but enough with the dancing based non-musicals!

“Meet the Spartans” is a new parody along the lines of “Scary Movie,” but is so far removed from the originality that was the first “Scary Movie” that now its just a joke. At least they changed the name from “(Genre) Movie,” or “Not Another (Genre) Movie.” Eventually they would have run out of ideas and just called it “Parody Movie.”** No, this is one of those movies that claim to be spoofing a genre, but instead is just a poorly executed parody of anything popular at the moment. Thankfully, movies like this only have a shelf life of about a month before they disappear into obscurity and onto the $5.99 previously viewed for sale rack at Blockbuster.

“Rambo” is Sly trying to capitalize on the success of “Rocky Balboa,” which was essentially Sly trying to capitalize on the success of his past, because at this point in his career, people actually appreciate him less than they ironically appreciate his brother, Frank. Some actors age and grow into new roles and find success in other ways than just playing the only characters anyone knows them for from 25 years ago. Sly seems to have been unable to do that. Shame.

From what I can tell, “Untraceable” is trying to portray the fact that the American public is obsessed with violence. They are, from what I can tell of the plot of the movie, so enamored with violence that they will watch violence even if it means killing someone. A noble message yes, but one that is lost in a movie that is just another violent movie, capitalizing on the public’s love of violence. Turns out, its just a hypocritical message. At least the “Saw” franchise isn’t on its high horse about it: people like gross, they deliver gross.

Once upon a time, any one of these movies might have been original. But it’s not that once upon a time any more. If a studio is going to fund shit, they should at least try and disguise that shit as something less contrived and obvious.

*These descriptions are based on my buying into the stereotypes that I believe these movies are trying to sell. On principle, I have no desire to see any of these films, and while I’d be incredibly surprised if my analysis on any was wrong, I invite you to challenge me (as long as you’re paying).

**Which is actually pretty clever when you think about it. Especially if it was a serious movie about the trials and tribulations that come with the failures of all of those shitty parody movies.

A Jets Fan's Lament

About a week and a half ago, while in Philadelphia for business, I got a phone call notifying me that my new couch would be delivered February third. This, I would tell almost anyone within 20 feet of me, could not have been more perfect: first, a gorgeous new TV, now a comfy new couch to be delivered within a few hours of Super Bowl XLII. Absolutely perfect.

Absolutely perfect until about an hour ago,* when Brett Favre threw an ill-timed interception in overtime, setting up a whatever yard field goal by whatshisface on the Giants (who went ahead and finally made one after missing two in a row).

I should explain my disdain. I’m a very big football fan. Football, for me, is the only watchable sport, with the exception of English Premier League soccer, which isn’t a very common sight on American TV. As a big football fan, early September through early February is the only sporting season that I have marked on my calendar. It should be needless to say that, during this time span, Sundays are spoken for.

The specific reason why my Sundays during these five or so months are spoken for is simple: The New York Jets. The J! E! T! S! Jets! Jets! Jets! For as long as I can remember, the Jets have been not only my one true professional sporting love, but the same for my brother, and—when they’re having a good season at least—my father. When my parents divorced, one of the activities that made me feel particularly close to my father was watching the Jets. The Jets for me are both my favorite sporting team of any sport, and a means to share a passion with members of my family with whom I may or may not have much more in common.

As a Jets fan, the following scenario is particularly undesirable: A New England Patriots vs. New York Giants Super Bowl. The New England Patriots are the bane of Jets’ fans existence. For the past too many years, they have been a shoe in for division leaders, and with the exception of the 2002-2003 season, have made it impossible for any other team in the AFC East to be anything more than the wild card (the ‘02-‘03 season belonged to the Jets). There’s also a lot of bad blood between the two teams: Curtis Martin left New England to become a Jet, as did Bill Parcells, who brought with him his assistant coach Bill Belichick. Parcells would soon retire from being the Jets’ head coach, leaving the team to Belichick who would quit after one day to become the Patriots’ head coach. Belichick brought with him for the task of defensive coordinator his old assistant coach from the Cleveland Browns, Eric Mangini, who would later leave the Patriots to become The Jets’ head coach. The bad blood between the two coaches would become the thing of legends, even though this season was only Mangini’s second as head coach. I’m sure you heard about SpyGate. Even if you didn’t, the above description should be proof enough that these two teams have enough between them to warrant bad blood. As a Jets fan, I can only say, “Fuck the Patriots.”

The Giants on the other hand are victims of circumstance when it comes to my hatred (though my hatred for the Giants pales horribly in comparison to the hate my brother feels). The Giants are in a position to treat the Jets like little brothers, yet they seemingly chose to treat the Jets like little step-brothers. The two teams share a stadium, which is called Giants Stadium (though in a few years, they will share a brand new stadium not specifically dedicated to either team). In general, the Giants always seem to get better press than the Jets, and they are always considered the better team (please ignore the fact that they generally are). For Jets fans like myself, it’s hard to watch the Giants do well, because while they represent my city, they don’t represent me (think Cubs fans when the White Sox won the series, or Mets fans all those times the stupid Yankees won). The Giants’ success means only more good press for them, and the Jets being even worse by comparison.

So after the Patriots defeated the San Diego Chargers, something everybody knew was going to happen, pushing them to 18-0 (the first team ever), I was able to confidently sit back and assume that The Packers would beat the Giants in the NFC championship game, creating a Super Bowl match up that I repeatedly said would be awesome: the career record holder versus the season record holder. I was not happy to see the Patriots move onto the Super Bowl. Again. But it’s been clear for at least a month that it would happen. I can deal. But then, just past 9 PM, Favre threw that interception, setting up that stupid field goal, and more dreadfully, setting up that horribly match up: the bane of my existence versus my proverbial step-brother.

Right now, in a warehouse somewhere, my couch is hoping it will be moved to a good home. It’s imagining itself showing up to its new residence, greeted by its new owner with a great smile. But this February third, I’ll have nothing to smile about.

*This post was written within an hour of the Super Bowl match up being finalized.

The Producer as Auteur

The way films are sold to the general public is something that interests me. Most people don't go to IMDB, or Aint It Cool News, or any other websites that offer information on upcoming movies. Most people go see a movie based on repetitive advertising, word of mouth, or mainstream film critics. They don't worry about the struggles the film had making it to the screen or who was rumored to play Batman before Christian Bale got the part. Most of them don't even know who Christian Bale is, they just recognize his face. This is why I find it interesting when films are sold based on their "auteur."

The "auteur theory" in film, believes that the final product of a film should reflect a director's personal vision. In other words, the director is ultimately responsible for what the audience sees on screen. Martin Scorsese, Robert Altman, and Stanley Kubrick all come to mind as directors who would fit this definition. Their names are selling points for their films. Commercials, posters, reviews and interviews will all lend credence to the theory of the director as author. However, what I have noticed lately, is the use of famous "auteur" directors as selling points for films that they have produced.

The Orphanage is directed by Juan Antonio Bayona, yet the name most people associate the film with is Guillermo Del Toro, or "That Guy Who Did Pan's Labyrinth." Both Hostel films have "Quentin Tarantino Presents" above the title. Cloverfield is directed by Matt Reeves, yet people mostly refer to J.J. Abrams when talking about it. Walk Hard and Superbad are considered Judd Apatow films yet they were directed by Jake Kasdan and Greg Mottola, respectively. As producers, they have all probably had varying degrees of involvement. Guillermo Del Toro and Tarantino were more likely involved to both help the studio sell the film and to get more exposure for less-known directors. However, with J.J. Abrams and Judd Apatow, there seems to be a much greater degree of involvement.

Superbad and to a lesser degree, Walk Hard very much look and feel like The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up, which Apatow both wrote and directed. He seems to have almost as strong a guiding hand in these films as he does his own. While not having seen Lost, I know it by reputation as a show that embraces the internet to make viewers a part of solving the mysteries on the show. A similar approach was made with Cloverfield. I believe that in the case of these two writer/producer/directors the reason that so much of their influence is felt in everything they do is due to their television backgrounds. You know when you're watching an episode of Freaks and Geeks or Lost even if you come in after not watching the show for awhile. Despite different writers and directors, the show is usually kept consistent with the producers'/creators' vision. If that familiarity is gone, the viewers are gone.

The people who buy Hostel on DVD based on Quentin Tarantino's name on the box are not getting a Quentin Tarantino film for their money. While I think its a good thing that Tarantino or Del Toro's name on the poster may help get the film to a larger audience, its a shame that in the eyes of the public, these directors are getting credit for films that aren't theirs. In the case of Kasdan, Mottola, and Reeves, how they supposed to effectively get their vision onto film when their biggest successes are the visions of the producers?

REVIEW: THE ORPHANAGE?

This really isn't a review, just an awkward narrative with a slight bit of review in it. I realized as I started this post that I didn't have much to say but felt I should post something anyway.

On Friday night Crystal was all like "Let's see a movie. Let's see a movie." So she looks up what's going on and I'm all like "Ooo, Cloverfield." Then I realize it's Friday night and it'll be packed with kids. Then she shows me the preview for The Orphanage. It looked like a normal 'creepy child recently moving into a haunted house' kind of movie. However, it has Guillermo del Toro's name all over it. I saw half of the first Hellboy and thought it was a well-directed action superhero movie with actual style. And if all ya'll didn't know, Pan's Labyrinth is one of the very few films in recent years that I feel is in my top movies.

We arrive in the theater and that shit is empty except for an old couple, Crystal and I, and a younger couple that comes in five minutes into the movie. The opening credits were weird, and I don't mean because they were in Spanish. There were like seven different production companies involved in making the film, plus del Toro and what looked like a few television companies. So the film itself had a feel that seemed half normal haunting movie and half foreign film. The music wasn't the blatant 'oh shit, something's coming' and 'oh shit, you should be prepared for the worst' soundtrack. It had the intensity of the haunting film without crappy dialogue. In fact, it seemed to have minimal dialog at some points, very much like Pan's Labyrinth. I think it works well in the film and causes it to be more about the visual aspects and the story. The end of the film (I won't ruin it too much) started out to be an ending like Pan's Labyrinth where you think it's all worked out and it's cheesy, but nice. Then you see the truth. And at the very end you still smile just enough not to hate the ending.

When we left the theater, Crystal asked me what I thought. I felt that it was a refreshing view of a haunting-style film with real direction. I expected a bit more because it was del Toro, but I figured more of his mind was on Hellboy 2 at the time. However, it turns out I was wrong because he didn't direct The Orphanage, just produced it and thus they were able to put his name all over it.

So basically I would say it was a good movie, but nothing incredibly special. It was a well-directed, slight re-envisioning, of a movie that seems to have been done several times before.

The 822 Cloverfield Company

NOTE: While this isn’t necessarily a review, and the movie only contained few things that could be spoiled, the following MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS, so please only read if you’ve seen it, or don’t really care. You can read a real review below.

J.J. Abrams’ new movie (his first full length?), “Cloverfield,” was known for a long time as “1-18-08,” because when anyone had first heard anything about it, it was from a trailer attached to the “Transformers” movie that offered no title, just that date. This, of course, is a brilliant way to get people talking, and was just the first part of what they now call a Viral Marketing Campaign.

This Viral Marketing Campaign certainly paid off for the film. At 7:45 on a Friday night, it’s no surprise that the theater was packed, but it may have been the first film I’ve seen a theater, without the name “Harry Potter” or “Spider-Man,” that had literally every seat sold out (which has lead me to already plan my first viewing of “Dark Knight,” a movie with an even more viral campaign).

My personal opinion of the movie is the following: It was fun, had some decent drama as more and more characters died, and it absolutely would not have worked if it weren’t for the handheld camera approach—which made me nauseous. The ending was satisfying for me, in part because it left lots of stuff open to learn more and to research on the Internet, and partly because it really pissed off a lot of people in the theater that I didn’t like on principle. Watching the movie was fun and seldom more, but the aftermath was the real experience.

“Cloverfield” is one of those never-going-happen-to-me kind of disaster movies that is fun to overanalyze and realistically plan for. “We’d be prepared if that ever happened,” my girlfriend told me earnestly, and I agreed 100%. After all, we knew not to go into the subway tunnels; we knew to run if the rats were running; and most importantly, we knew that no matter what, getting bit always equates to something bad, whether its from a zombie, a vampire, or as in this case, the weird spawn of the giant lizard bug thing from “Cloverfield.” (Note to all movie monsters: don’t even bother with us, we’re very well prepared).

Even though we knew we’d be ok if it ever happened, the drive home after the post-movie activities was dedicated to “imagine if that ever really did happen” conversations, as well as weighing the pros and cons of the attack being in Manhattan versus somewhere else in the country (Pros for it being on Manhattan: “at least it’s an island. You could just destroy the whole island if you had to.” Pros for somewhere else: maybe it would be further from here).

If I could sum up the experience of seeing “Cloverfield,” it would be “that movie was great.” If I could some up the experience of seeing the movie and all of the conversation and analysis that followed, it would be “that movie is terrifying.” While I’m sure that Mr. Abrams was going for terrifying, I’m pretty much positive he wasn’t going to realism. But for a never-going-to-happen-anyone kind of disaster movie, it sure managed to get pretty real.

REVIEW: CLOVERFIELD

CLOVERFIELD MONSTER GONNA EAT YOU!

If the monster in Cloverfield could talk, and it said the above line, the movie would have been fucking amazing. As it was, I just enjoyed it. It was a very interesting interpretation of the giant monster movie and a good commentary on our amateur video obsessed society. It's also a great film if you enjoy seeing douchebags get killed.

Douches Galore

The characters in Cloverfield are pretty much the characters you would usually see as victims in a modern slasher movie. Cool, attractive young folks who you pretty much know can die at any second. The only difference here is, there's not really a likable one in the bunch. I'm not saying that a character has to be likable, I'd just prefer them to not all be douches. Seriously, the main character, Rob, is a total douche. And the guy behind the camera, Hud, the doucheist of douches. He asks the question "What is that thing?" close to 47 or 49 times. He pretty much asks all the questions that the idiots and old ladies in a movie theater would normally ask. So, old ladies and dumbasses with no theater etiquette, this movie does half the work for you.

Other stuff, good.

Now, with the above paragraph, you might think I hated this movie. I didn't. I enjoyed it a lot, although the film could've used a P. Diddy song sampling Led Zepplin. The monster is pretty badass, although to all those like myself who were hoping for some sort of Gammera type turtle monster, you'll be sorely disappointed. For those who haven't seen it yet, I won't spoil it, but I will say it obviously has Godzilla influences along with some H.P. Lovecraft thrown in.

Cloverfield also wins points for really drawing me into the film. I felt like I was on that Body Wars ride from Epcot. In one of the brief moments that I looked around me, I saw that everyone eye's were glued to the screen as well. There was also a rare moment in a packed theater where everyone was actually silent with suspense. Amazingly no one giggled or talked or had their cellphone go off. So I've got to give the movie credit for that.

So, overall, I don't really have a lot to say about the movie. Did it live up to the hype? I'm not sure. I can't speak for everyone's expectations. As for my own, I simply wanted to be entertained and see a turtle monster. At least I was entertained. Go ahead and check it out, it's definitely worth seeing in theaters.*

*Unless you too wanted a turtle monster. In that case, stay home and dream of a day when someone revives the Gammera movies. Also, if you have vertigo its probably not a great idea. You'll vomit. A lot.

Sharing is Caring

Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: I think I could probably try crack just once and be ok.
Friend: Really?
Me: Well, I smoked pot a few times, and I really liked it, but I’m so cheap and lazy that I don’t really see me trying to go get some for myself.
Friend: So you’re saying that, as long as none of your friends just bring some crack over, you’d be ok trying it once?
Me: Yes.*

In high school, I used to joke that I would never smoke pot because I’m so laid back already, that introducing a substance into my body with the purpose of making myself even more relaxed would probably just turn me into a slug of sorts (it should be noted that the first time I did finally smoke, I immediately sought out a couch on which I enjoyed the remainder of a cake I had, and watched “Double Dare 2000”). Turns out, I don’t much mind being a slug.

The truth is, I don’t mind it at all. But, as a man in possession of two of the least attractive character traits one can have, cheapness and laziness, I’m too cheap and lazy to seek out this state of extreme cheapness (in mind) and laziness on my own. And though I might be denying myself the ability to enjoy something that I do enjoy, I’m also allowing myself the freedom from addiction. And, no, I don’t mean addiction in the scary, after-school-special sense of the word, because frankly I’m not that scared. I mean addiction in the sense of “I’d really love to (insert thing I’d really love to do), but I have to feed my addiction instead.” Frankly, I’m too lazy to bother feeding ANY addiction that requires more than biting my nails (which I would argue is more of a habit).

Of course, drugs are just the example I use in an effort to look cooler than I actually am. I am in fact not addicted to any of the following: drugs, alcohol, candy, TV, movies, video games, sports, exercise, comedy, beauty pageants, the Internet, model making, reading or blogging—though I do enjoy several of them. When it comes to addiction for me, I just need a couch—unless you’re offering.

Which really means you should feel free to come over any time, just as long as you share.

*This conversation was paraphrased and made particularly expository to spare you all the painstaking time it took for him to actually draw this conclusion.

The Truth is Out There

or, Barack Obama isn't some genius James Bond villain

If I was Bruce Banner, I would probably be subject to very short bursts of turning into the Hulk. I'm the type that bottles up my anger and rage and it comes out at rather inappropriate moments at work like, "Holy shit, where the fuck is the stapler!??!?" Or this old chestnut while on the road, "I can't fuckin' believe that motherfuckin' fuck just fuckin' did that!" However, after reading an e-mail titled "Who is Barack Obama?" I could probably go on a cross-country Hulk rampage. 

Upon first reading the title, I thought it might be a humorous, Seinfeld-like analysis of the Democratic candidate, "What's the deal with Barack Obama? Who is this guy, I mean, what's the deal with politics, right?" Sadly, I was sorely mistaken. 

The e-mail begins with this sentence:

"Very interesting and something that should be considered in your choice."

Well, yes, obviously. Any voter who really gives a shit should ask the question of "Who is ______?" before casting their vote that puts this person into public office. Hell, every dumbshit American Idol voter should ask this question. My very first vote for anything was for the Blue M&M and goddammit, I made sure that Blue was going to represent my interests and beliefs as my representative in the world of candy coated chocolates. Anyway, back to the e-mail.

Next, after a quick bit about how scary and important this e-mail is, it goes on to say:

"We checked this out on 'snopes.com". It is factual. Check for yourself.

Well, if you stop to check for yourself you will find out that this e-mail is anything but factual. 

Apparently for most people who are lurking around the internet, making a claim that a story is factual is enough for them. Especially in an e-mail forwarded to them, with no real author and no real sources to back anything up. Well, gullible e-mail forwarding people(aka old people and teenagers) I've got a scoop for you. John Edwards is plagued by a magical imp who appears every three months causing trouble and mischief and the only way to get rid of him is by tricking him into saying his own name backwards. It's factual. You could go ahead and look on snopes.com and see that I'm lying or just take me on my word because I told you I'm telling the truth. 

The e-mail moves on to Obama's parents, a "black MUSLIM" and a "white ATHEIST." I'm pretty sure they're holding back, otherwise the next line would have been "Obama has also been known to associate with several JEWS." I'm sorry, my mom is a "white CATHOLIC" and my dad is a "white CATHOLIC" yet they manage to have my sister who is an "asian SATANIST*" Obama's parents managed to produce a "black CHRISTIAN," yet this e-mail fails to acknowledge that at all. It also fails to acknowledge the fact that religion shouldn't be an issue when electing a public official let alone president yet it manages to become more and more prevalent.  This e-mail instead says that Obama became a Christian because it was "politically expedient" despite the fact that any real research reveals he joined his church long before he got into politics. It's also fairly hypocritical for the author(s) to downplay Obama's Christianity as political when in fact they're trying to rally "good Christ-loving Americans" against an allegedly Muslim candidate. 

They then claim that Obama was sworn into office as Senator not on the Holy Bible but on the boldface underlined KORAN! Dun. Dun. Dun! A simple google or look around Snopes reveals this to be false. But, so what if an elected official is sworn in on the Koran or on the Torah or on a Harry Potter book. You're swearing to tell the truth in front of whatever you believe to be the ultimate judge of that truth, not on one select group's version.

Finally, the e-mail wraps up with this gem:

"The Muslims have said they plain on destroying the US from the inside out, what better way to start than at the highest level - through the President of the United States, one of their own!!!!

First off, "The Muslims?" The terrorists have said this, not the entire Muslim faith. It's simple minded ignorance like that that got America into Iraq into the first place. When people started equating 9/11 with Iraq that led to the never-ending shitfest going on over there. When people start interchanging Muslim with terrorist, that's when you start to see hate crimes perpetrated by violent douchebags all over the place. The saddest part is, most people who get this e-mail won't bother to actually look to see if its true or not. They'll just pass it on to others as facts, like the messenger at work who liked Obama because he was "well-spoken"(don't even get me started on that) but couldn't support him because he heard he was funded by the Egyptians who wanted to...guess what? Destroy the US from the inside out! I'm sorry, but last time I checked, the entire population of people who are Muslims are not James Bond villains. 

All the bullshit rumors going around about Obama are even more ludicrous than the belief that Kennedy would be in the Pope's pocket when he was running. It's funny** how people are worried about a separation of Church and State when its not their Church involved.  And it's even funnier*** how the internet, the "information super highway," something that was supposed to open up the world and people's minds has instead only helped to close more. 

*My sister is not a satanist. At least not as far as I know. Sorry, Sara!

**By funny, I mean not funny at all, but actually very scary and depressing.

*** Again, scary and depressing. Even more so.

Review of Sorts: How Hugo Cabret's Invention Affected My Year

Yesterday morning, the 2008 edition of the Children’s Media awards (honors? I’m not very good at getting technical names correct) took place. While there are probably about 15 different awards given, and honorary winners named, the two that are most well-known are of course those named for John Newbery and whateverhisfirstnamewas Caldecottt. Because of the gravity these two medals carry in the literary community (like being carried specifically in those bookcases at Barnes and Noble dedicated to the winners), they’re “sort of a big deal.”

Oftentimes, there’s a little too much scrutiny on the winners. Last year’s Newbery was a book called “The Higher Power of Lucky,” and hanging right there in the first sentence was a nice big “scrotum” for the young-reading world to see. Some libraries shunned the book, some bookstores became weary of the book, but as a whole, the publishing industry wore it as a badge of honor, and the book’s publisher would later refer to it as “the word,” and use it as a vehicle in an unnamed “look what we’ve overcome” campaign.

This year’s Newbery is a book I’ve never heard of by a smaller publisher (Candlewick Press), making me happy that—even though I’ve never heard of it, and its announcement became inherently anti-climactic because of its lack of popularity (but just give that some time)—there’s some concrete proof that the committee is looking at books flying well below the radar. This year’s Caldecott however, is not only a book I’ve read, but a book I’ve given perhaps a little too much scrutiny to for the better part of the last year.

“The Invention of Hugo Cabret,” made its grand entrance into my life in late March, a book among hundreds of others dwelling in the warehouse-section of my job’s home base. It would be another few weeks before, bored in Hershey, PA, I would finally pick up the book and give it the fair chance it deserved. It was just another few hours until it had earned its place on my shelf of favorites books. Throughout its over 500 pages (undoubtedly making it the longest Caldecott winner we might ever see), author/illustrator Brian Selznick concocts a story that cannot stand alone with just text or illustrations.

After the announcements of the winners, I caught up with one of my coworkers. I doubt he ever has much invested in the awards (whereas I feel like Hugo’s win was almost exclusively my doing because I’ve recommended it to so many, and named it a clear frontrunner for either Newbery or Caldecott in my blog on December 19), but, never wanting to be out of the loop, he agreed that it was a great choice. When I pushed to confirm that he had actually read the book, he said “yes,” but didn’t remember what it was about.

This is not a book that one forgets (not that I’m trying to paint a picture of my coworker as the liar he clearly is). It’s the most unique piece of literature I’ve ever read—not because of its story, but in its format. It looks at the challenge of our “visually based” society and solves it with flying black and white pencil sketches.

But of course, a book is only as good as its content. As Selznick’s first full-length novel (his previous efforts each clocked in at under 70 pages), the story never falters, and never loses the reader. Though its intimidating thickness may scare off the few not brave enough to look between its covers, reluctant readers are sure to speed through it, as not only does the story keep you wanting more, but the pictures make you not want to stop.

What little I know about Selznick allows for the book to become even more real. As a fan of old cinema, Selznick treats each illustrated page as a carefully considered shot in a movie about Hugo’s world. And Hugo’s world is not glamorous: the orphaned son of a watchmaker, he was forced to live with his alcoholic uncle, the clock keeper at a Paris train station. When his uncle disappears, Hugo realizes he must keep the clocks at the station working, or risk being caught, and sent to an orphanage. With his genetic knowledge of watch making, the task of fixing clocks is no tough challenge, but fixing the automaton that his father left behind is much more difficult. On top of all that, he must steal to survive, and his luck eventually runs out, when he is caught by the toy seller. Through a series of physical discoveries and conscious epiphanies, the plot unwinds to show the intertwined fates of the two.

Even though it only took me about three hours to read all 544 pages, it would be in my head for months to come. When I had the opportunity to meet Selznick at a book fair in New York City, I jumped at the chance. Having never been to a signing at a book fair before, I provided my own copy of the book, not knowing that they would have provided one for me. But when one of his publisher’s marketers wouldn’t allow it, and Selznick’s publicist scoffed at the idea, Selznick himself had no problem signing an extra copy for me to give to another diehard fan of the book. He thanked me for my dedication, and I appreciated how nice he was (I would later blog that meeting him was the highlight of my weekend—which also included a presentation by Stephen Colbert).

Last year’s scrotum-bearing Newbery winner was a book that I felt pride for because, in its early stages, I had taken an editorial look at as an intern at the publisher. But this year’s Caldecott winner has given me an entirely new sense of pride—one that I don’t know if I rightfully deserve. I’ve had next to nothing to do with its success (with the exception of the people to whom I’ve recommended the book), but when a piece of art that is truly inspiring receives the attention it deserves (and was not slated to receive), anyone who has ever had contact with it should feel a sense of pride.

REVIEW: CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR

aka Bachelor Party 2

Charlie Wilson's War is Mike Nichols's latest film, with a script by Aaron Sorkin and starring Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts and Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Charlie Wilson(Hanks) is a senator from Texas who though he seems of little importance actually turns out to be a great influence on the Cold War. He also likes to party down.* Hell, he leads the Senate sub-committee on partying down. Charlie Wilson's War is essentially a sequel in spirit to one of Hanks's first films, Bachelor Party, if his character in that film became a senator but kept that party going another 20 years. And just like Bachelor Party, this film is very entertaining, yet leaves me incredibly depressed.**

I'm not going to talk much about the acting in this film. It's all great work as usual from Hanks, Roberts, Hoffman and Amy Adams in a supporting role as Wilson's assistant. What is really interesting about Charlie Wilson's War is the surface level of the film and how that has played into the marketing. The trailers and commercials make it seem like your average Oscar baiting, one man can do it, America can do it, crowd pleasing film. At some points it even feels like that type of movie, but its really not.

The opening scene of the film places Wilson in front of the American flag while a banner at the other end of the room reads "Charlie Did It!" Charlie is there accepting an award from the CIA for his part in arming Afghanistan against the invading Soviet forces. Nichols then flashes back to how everything unfolded until he returns to the same scene he began with. Except this time its prefaced with a short scene of the senator drinking and crying in frustration over his inability to convince anyone to rebuild Afghanistan. The exact same scene shown exactly the same way, but with different context. It's these little reminders of context, like the unyielding hatred between an Israeli arms dealer and an Egyptian official; and Gust's(Hoffman) commentary on the dubious religious motives of Joanne Herring(Julia Roberts) that really set the movie's tone. Underneath all these Cold War dealings, something much worse is brewing.

In the end, while Charlie Wilson's War does show that one man can indeed make a difference, it also ponders the ramifications of that change. Obvious parallels are drawn to the current problems in Iraq and what the United States will do once all the terrorists are out of Iraq. Will the people of Iraq just be forgotten like the people of Afghanistan only to breed more contempt for America? Once all the Communists are out, they, along with Charlie are quickly ignored as yesterday's news. As the real Charlie Wilson says in a quote at the end of the film, "We fucked up the end game." I know some people may have been on the fence about seeing this movie because of how it was marketed, but I really can't recommend it enough. Charlie Wilson's War will make you laugh, it will make you think and it will probably depress the shit out of you. Go see it, but for your own sake, don't watch Munich beforehand or you'll just want to kill yourself before the world explodes because of fanatics on all sides.

* A key element to his partying down is whiskey. Charlie Wilson is drinking whiskey in at least every other scene in this film. It really made me want a glass of whiskey. Whiskey whiskey whiskey.

** Charlie Wilson's War depresses me because of its commentary on the ever worsening situation in the Middle East. Bachelor Party just brings me down afterwards because I know my bachelor party won't be that awesome, which is sad because it won't be as good as the movie that wasn't as good as Animal House.

Ford vs. Ford

Rocky vs. Apollo. Rocky vs. Thunderlips. Rocky vs. Clubber.

In all of literature and film and history there have been many battles between good and evil, as noted above. However, it is rarely questioned who would win in a battle between good and potentially gooder. Take for example a battle between Washington and Lincoln (not physical battle, unless we have zombie Washington versus zombie Lincoln and at that point it's just absurd). Both excellent presidents who helped make this country, but which is the potentially gooder one? Let us save this for another time and examine a much more important comparison. Han Solo versus Indiana Jones. Two Harrison Fords going head to head in several important categories, ultimately deciding which Harrison is superior. Let us begin.

Every person is born, usually.
Han Solo was an orphan, never knowing who exactly his parents were. However, during his early years he was raised by a female Wookie according to my Han Solo Trilogy Biography (HSTB). Indiana Jones was born from the semen of William Forrester himself, Sean Connery, and some chick. Probably Pussy Galore. Point to Indy, I guess.

Company KeptIf you hang out with a 10 year old Asian boy, they're gonna talk. However, if you're sensible, you'll have a Wookie owing you a life debt and no one will be quick to fuck with you. So a point to Solo? Not so fast. He also made the mistake of becoming friends with a cape-wearing jackass. This 'friend' gave Han up to save himself from those Empire bastards. Yes, in the end he wears a helmet with fangs and stands around a lot during Han's rescue, but that doesn't revoke his traitor status. So it's still Wookie against Asian boy... but the Asian boy who played Data in The Goonies. Plus, Indy's pal Sallah, not only rocked in two Indiana Jones films, but also destroyed several hundred Orcs and 'slided' in many different dimensions with Jerry O'Connell. Point Indy.


Laying the Metaphorical CarpetIn each Indiana Jones film, we find the charming hero taking a different woman to bed, including one that his father made the beast with two backs with. Gross. Minus one point. According to HSTB Han has had several love interests. He's banged an older musician. Awesome. And his first real love is one of the people who died so that the Rebels could have the blueprints for the Death Star. Hot. He saves his future wife mainly because he knows she's got money. Clever. Point to Han, no doubt.

Sharp Dressed Man
ZZ Top rocks and so does a sweet ensemble. Leather jacket, fedora, whip, and khakis. Indy's kinda like a cartoon character. Same clothes, except for a suit and undercover Egyptian digger (who looks like an American) outfit. Han Solo understands fashion and climate. He's on the desert planet of Tatooine so he has a vest. He's on the ice planet Hoth, so he keeps the same look, but now sports a long sleeve version of his earlier outfit. Then let's say he makes his way to a forest planet on a secret mission. Camouflage jacket over that same old outfit. Solo's clothes may be as reused as Indy's but he knows how to keep it interesting and much more sensible. Point to Solo.


Putting the Evil Inside HimThere is only one way to decide which of these Fords fought more formidable foes... compare Hitler and his Nazis to Darth Vader and his Stormtroopers. They're the same thing. Solo was also hunted by bounty hunters, so I'm going to give him that point. Then again, he did get caught. Point to no one.

How You Kill Makes the Man
It's not just a matter of blaster against whip (which I'm sure many of you simple people would think to be the easiest solution). Using only those two weapons as a basis, its clear that the blaster would come out on top. Wrong. Think about it. Indy has 'killed' using the old flag pole to motorcycle trick and letting the hot blonde he banged fall to her death. Most importantly, Indy knowingly let a German mechanic be hacked to death by a propeller. Bad ass, clever, hilarious, etc.. Two points to Indy.


And so the score is 4-2, Indy victorious. However, unlike HSTB, the several pieces of literature which recount Indy's adventures overlapped several times in the grand timeline. Because of these discrepancies, I must come to the conclusion that the Indiana Jones films are not true accounts of his adventures, but possibly exaggerated tales of what actually occurred. Therefore, my results are inconclusive. I apologize. If you have any information pertaining to non-fictional literature on Indiana Jones, please contact me so that I may finally once and for all make an educated decision as to which man is the better man.

Welcome to the 822 Writing Company!

Hello there and welcome to the 822 Writing Company! You're probably wondering, "What is a writing company?" or "What is the significance of the number 822?" We here at the 822 Writing Company are working hard every day to answer those questions(answers are below*). We'll be sharing our thoughts on film, literature, erotica, current events, pop culture, erotica, and maybe we'll even draw a comic or two. Basically, we're a collection of writers and artists who want to get ourselves out onto the interweb so all you fine people can judge us.


* We're not really sure if there is such a thing as a writing company, but we are pretty certain that we are one. The number 822 remains shrouded in mystery and only fools dare seek its truth.