Sunday, August 07, 2005
Hollywood Declares, “We’re All Tapped Out”
I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but that talking Quizno’s baby is pretty damn creepy.
You know what else sucks? Paying $9 to go see a movie that I’ve already seen for $3.50 when it originally came out. Namely, all the freeze-dried crap churning it’s way to a theatre near you. I enjoy Will Ferrell as much as the next guy, but let’s face it—Bewitched wasn’t worth going back for. Contrary to what the Marines may tell you, there are just some times when it’s totally right and necessary to leave a man behind.
Bad News Bears? Really? Now I’m picturing a bunch of guys in expensive suits sitting around a mahogany conference table nodding at each other sagely and saying, “I think Paul has a great idea with the BNB project—I just don’t see how this one can miss. I’ll call Sling Blade—He’ll do it...” Oh, and my guess is the recruiting line to sign up for the Russian submarine force will be longer than the line to see Dukes of Hazzard...
Some of this summer’s recycled offerings are wrong, but for exactly the opposite reason. They were done properly the first time. Look folks, Gene Wilder is Willy Wonka and that’s just all there is to it. That movie didn’t need to be remade. Granted, Gene didn’t have the Michael Jackson-inspired effeminate mannerisms that Johnny brings to the role, but my bad dreams after the original were confined mostly to Oompa Loompas. Man, those guys are spooky.
Same story on the Pink Panther. Steve, I loved you with the arrow through the head thing—but Peter Sellers pretty much nailed that part, I think. Anyway, I thought you were still working through your crappy novel phase? What’s happening there?
Ironically, in the 1953 version of War of the Worlds it was the special effects that were kind of cheesy, yet disturbing at the same time—in 2005, it’s Tom Cruise. He’s easy to spot onscreen. When he’s with the space aliens he’s the one that doesn’t look at home.
Do yourself a favor, stay away from the theater this summer and instead rent Team America: World Police. It’s damn funny, Michael Moore explodes, AND it has graphic sex scenes with puppets.
And don’t eat at Quizno’s. First the singing rats and now that hungry demonic baby—when does the pain end?
You know what else sucks? Paying $9 to go see a movie that I’ve already seen for $3.50 when it originally came out. Namely, all the freeze-dried crap churning it’s way to a theatre near you. I enjoy Will Ferrell as much as the next guy, but let’s face it—Bewitched wasn’t worth going back for. Contrary to what the Marines may tell you, there are just some times when it’s totally right and necessary to leave a man behind.
Bad News Bears? Really? Now I’m picturing a bunch of guys in expensive suits sitting around a mahogany conference table nodding at each other sagely and saying, “I think Paul has a great idea with the BNB project—I just don’t see how this one can miss. I’ll call Sling Blade—He’ll do it...” Oh, and my guess is the recruiting line to sign up for the Russian submarine force will be longer than the line to see Dukes of Hazzard...
Some of this summer’s recycled offerings are wrong, but for exactly the opposite reason. They were done properly the first time. Look folks, Gene Wilder is Willy Wonka and that’s just all there is to it. That movie didn’t need to be remade. Granted, Gene didn’t have the Michael Jackson-inspired effeminate mannerisms that Johnny brings to the role, but my bad dreams after the original were confined mostly to Oompa Loompas. Man, those guys are spooky.
Same story on the Pink Panther. Steve, I loved you with the arrow through the head thing—but Peter Sellers pretty much nailed that part, I think. Anyway, I thought you were still working through your crappy novel phase? What’s happening there?
Ironically, in the 1953 version of War of the Worlds it was the special effects that were kind of cheesy, yet disturbing at the same time—in 2005, it’s Tom Cruise. He’s easy to spot onscreen. When he’s with the space aliens he’s the one that doesn’t look at home.
Do yourself a favor, stay away from the theater this summer and instead rent Team America: World Police. It’s damn funny, Michael Moore explodes, AND it has graphic sex scenes with puppets.
And don’t eat at Quizno’s. First the singing rats and now that hungry demonic baby—when does the pain end?
