Tag: drugs

A New Cult Movie: Black Dynamite

Shockingly, Black Dynamite has not yet received its seating assignment in the Halls of Cult Films; it’s also entirely possible that I am not frequenting the right internet forums or attending the right kind of parties. Either way, it is this blog entry’s intent to spread the word about Black Dynamite and get people watching it, but more importantly, talking about it.

Every few years, the Canon of Cult Movies opens its doors to a new entry; that entry then receives the highly-sought honor of being constantly brought up in Internet film forums, quoted at parties, and turned into memes or Halloween costumes.

Shockingly, Black Dynamite has not yet received its seating assignment in the Halls of Cult Films; it’s also entirely possible that I am not frequenting the right internet forums or attending the right kind of parties. Either way, it is this blog entry’s intent to spread the word about Black Dynamite and get people watching it, but more importantly, talking about it and getting OTHER people to watch it.

This. This here is the movie. It's awesome.

The blaxpoitation genre is one that lends itself to parody almost from its inception: while some lauded Hollywood’s attempt to create entertainment aimed solely at a black audience, many within that audience deplored the stereotypical world of pimps, hoes, drug dealers, violence and bitches depicted. For some, it seemed an attempt to create a ‘get out of white guilt free’ card by filmmakers who wanted to reach an African American audience without actually doing anything different.

But whatever its intent, blaxpoitation films have created an indelible mark on American cinema, love it or hate it. In the case of Michael Jai White (best known for his portrayal of Al Simmons in 1997’s apt Spawn adaptation),  who plays Black Dynamite, it’s roundly a labor of love to spoof the genre. Before the film, he regularly held blaxpoitation-viewing parties at his house, and the film was inspired by his listening to James Brown’s Superbad on his iPod.

There is NOTHING to dislike about this film. Although it explores similar territory as 2003’s Undercover Brother, the latter was based on an existing webcomic; in retrospect UB (though I LOVE IT) felt like an attempt to create an Austin Powers analogue for African American audiences. The modern setting severely limited the possibilities for lampooning the blaxpoitation genre, although the film was entertaining enough in its own right.(I’ve seen ‘I’m Gonna Get You Sucka’ but don’t want to get too far off track–this review is more about Black Dynamite than the blaxpoitation-parody microgenre).

Black Dynamite is ALL blaxpoitation: roundly set against the original 70’s backdrop and even utilizing the same crappy stock footage many of those films used, it indicates an encyclopedic knowledge as well as a love of the genre and distills both into a marvelous recreation. Black Dynamite, with its visible boom mikes, mind-blowing dialogue, gratuitous titties, and sinister plot by The Man could have sprung wholly-formed from the afro of Richard Roundtree. But it’s more than that–it’s a brilliant adult comedy the likes of which I thought weren’t even made any more: one that assumes the audience isn’t just in on the joke, but is smart enough to figure the joke out if they aren’t. It offers a sharp, never-slow take for an audience increasingly numbed by dull entries in action and comedy films.

Black Dynamite bids his bitches adieu.

It’s a joke that doesn’t get old for a minute. Each gag is as unpredictable as Black Dynamite himself, and the cavalcade of supporting characters is perfectly cast. There’s not a weak performance to be seen, and some characters like Honeybee leave you wanting much more from them. Even the action scenes, when they aren’t played for laughs, are meticulous–since White has no less than SEVEN black belts in various disciplines he has entirely earned the right to show off. Also, he’s hot.

Although the idea of an action hero being a closet psychopath has been explored to the point of exhaustion, there are a few scenes that get mileage even from that tired old trope, like this one where Dynamite is leaving new girlfriend Gloria in the care of some hoes he looks after.

The whole movie is a treat. From ‘Who the hell is interrupting my kung fu?’ to Roscoe’s Chili and Donuts to ‘First Lady, I’m sorry I pimp-slapped you into that china cabinet,’ there is nothing to dislike. Just remembering scenes I saw two days ago is making me laugh all over again. That and looking up clips, both original and fan-made, on Youtube.

The only weakness of Black Dynamite is that no one is talking about it.  A few more high-profile cameos might have raised its profile a little, and perhaps spending more than 2 weeks in the theater might have drummed up more buzz about it.

I can’t tell you how often I see a comedy that ‘everyone’ agrees is hilarious and I barely crack a smile–I have an odd sense of humor and I also can’t stand comedies where everyone is an asshole; Tropic Thunder made me laugh, Pineapple Express stole two hours of my life and left nothing in me but hate, and the trailer for Hot Tub Time Machine makes me cringe and wonder if John Cusack owes someone money. So when I find a new comedy that actually makes me laugh, it’s a cinch that it’ll entertain even the most dour of viewers.

Watch the trailer (and other goodies!) here.

The Big ‘Preacher’ Post

Originally, it was a film, with James Marsden set to star. Then, it was an HBO series, which would have honeslty been the BEST way to adapt such a broad story without cutting out details or screwing around with the characters too much. Then it was a film again, with Sam Mendes, of American Beauty fame, set to direct. Now he’s off the project and the last thing heard was Joe Carnahan, of Smokin’ Aces, saying he would like a crack at it while doing press for The A-Team.

If you aren’t already familiar with Garth Ennis’s brilliant graphic novel, then read further. If you are and don’t need an intro, skip on down to the meaty bits of the post.

Preacher is a series written by Irish writer Garth Ennis, who before Preacher was most famous for his work on Hellblazer, a book that starred John Constantine. Constantine is one of my FAVORITE series ever, and on another day I’ll do a post about that. But today is for Preacher.

In Preacher, young man of God Jesse Custer has lost his faith and sets out on a quest to find and question God concerning the state of the world. That’s really the absolute bare bones of the story, and it’s so hard to write that without going into all the juicy story bits that make this series so awesome and ruining it for first-time readers. There is nothing about this series–well, there’s violence, and ADULT SITUATIONS– that isn’t well-told, fascinating, and though-provoking. A freak occurrence with a divine presence means that Custer is imbued with the Word of God, meaning no one, providing they speak his language, can refuse his direct orders. Such a power in the wrong hands would be a huge disaster, but as Custer is a humanist with his own strict moral code (‘Don’t take no shit off fools, and be one of the good guys, because there’s way too many of the bad) he does not take advantage of this power and only uses it in times of real need.

In high school, someone recommended the book to me for all the wrong reasons, and I didn’t read it. Their stance was ‘it’s awesome because it’s violent and he goes around kicking ass.’ That’s definitely true, violence surrounds Custer the way that small birds and animals surround a Disney heroine–not because he seeks it out, but because its drawn to him. I wish I’d read this brilliant dissection of masculinity and American values years ago, but at least I’ve read it now.

Custer is joined on his quest by his girlfriend Tulip, a gun-toting chick  who is a walking case of Awesome,  and drunken reprobate Cassidy, an Irish vampire almost a hundred years old with dark shadows in his past but a rakish, devil-may-care attitude that you can’t help but be drawn to.  Cassidy’s optimism about the US and how many opportunities the country affords is one of the most interesting things about the book, and makes you remember all the stuff you want America to be, rather than all the stuff that it is.

Since the story is a quest, a goodly amount of meandering is done, but there is never a part of the book that’s boring or worth skipping. Their journey takes the group from Texas, to France, to New York City, to New Orleans, to Monument Valley in Utah, and everywhere in between. It’s a sweeping epic at the same time as an incisive character piece.

Which is why adapting it has hit so many roadblocks.

Originally, it was a film, with James Marsden set to star. Then, it was an HBO series, which would have honeslty been the BEST way to adapt such a broad story without cutting out details or screwing around with the characters too much. Then it was a film again, with Sam Mendes, of American Beauty fame, set to direct. Now he’s off the project and the last thing heard was Joe Carnahan, of Smokin’ Aces, saying he would like a crack at it while doing press for The A-Team.

This, but Christina Hendricks. Curse you, lack of Photoshop skillz!

Which is nice, but totally wrong.

What I think is necessary for the film to work on the same level as the book is to get a great dramatic director who can bring the right level of emotional weight to the story, and have to work hard to do the action. Don’t get an action director and expect them to be able to deal with the depth of the material. Edgar Wright would be great, especially since the entire series is an outsider’s view of the US. Michael Apted, who has a long history of drama and action, would also be ideal, if he were interested in the project.And there are oodles of other young directors with a firm grasp of both emotional resonance and drama that could do a decent job.

And just because I’ve been wanting to do this for years, here is my dream cast for a Preacher movie, if there ever is one.

Cassidy – Ideally I’d like Robert Carlyle for this, even though he’s Scottish. If he’s not available find an unknown, not some 19-year old, someone with some mileage under their belt. Cassidy’s some some messed up things, and although he’s nigh-indestructable he really needs to project that he’s been around for as long as the century.

Tulip – Christina Hendricks. I like her because she can turn from innocent, All-American sweetness to icy badass on a dime. That kind of range is important, but there’s a lot of area in-between that someone playing Tulip needs to inhabit. Tulip is strong, but she’s been scared, she’s been angry, she’s been petulant. This is a job for a real actress, not a model who’s just getting into acting. I’m sure there are other blondes out there who’d want this role, but I’m definitely biased as i’ve seen her as a badass and would like to see more in that way. No, I have not seen Mad Men yet.

Jody – This is a tough one. Ideally I’d like Woody Harrelson since he played a psychopath with such chilling presence in Natural Born Killers. And Jody is an older man, he’s not some 30-something. He’s got miles on him too, and whoever plays him has to bring that to the role. Every moment he’s on screen the viewer should be imagining Jody as a child perfecting the art of putting nails through the eyes of a puppy or something. And he HAS to be on screen. Other possibles would be Bruce Willis (come on, it’d be great!) or Ray Stevenson from the recent Punisher movie and Rome, but only if they can do decent Texan accents. Whoever is chosen, it has to be someone who can do both serial killer and twisted father figure, since Jody raised Jesse, though they were never close.

Jesse Custer – this is a difficult one. In the books, Jesse is only in his early twenties, but I’ve always read him as someone approaching thirty just because he’s so level-headed and sure of himself. I thought Timothy Olyphant might be right after loving him in Deadwood so much, but his accent left a little to be desired. There’s probably an undiscovered twenty-something out there who can play this– just please steer clear of stunt-casting. No Jake Gyllenhaal, no Toby Maguire, no Anton Yelchin. EDIT: Oh man, Justin Theroux would be GREAT for this, IF he can do a Texan accent.

Herr Starr – Oo, man, this is a tough one. Except not, because ever since Christophe Waltz wandered onto the scene, he is MEANT to play Herr Starr. It’s important for whoever plays Starr to remember that the character really wants to make the world a better place, no matter who he has to kill to do it.

I’m a little surprised that the Preacher movie has been dragged to screen by now, if only because

A. Studios will greenlight anything printed in panels these days, no matter the content, ie Kick-Ass.

B. Manly men are all the rage now–Clive Owen, Gerard Butler, Colin Ferrell– and yet there aren’t any real American manly men. I mean there are a few, but none come immediately to mind. Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark are many, but both have daddy issues. Perhaps that’s the exact reason–macho AMerican men come off as dickhead bullies, as characters out of Team America: World Police.

If Preacher gets made, and done right, maybe that’d change? I am totally a feminist in many ways, but I do like to watch  Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson, Bruce Lee movies. . . Perhaps Johan Hex will give a good indication as to whether or not Preacher will be made, or how well it’ll be done. I won’t see Jonah Hex, not until the release the DVD version where they’ve cut and pasted Megan Fox out of it, but I’ll still keep an eye on the buzz.

‘Smiley Face’ with Anna Faris and John Krasinski

This is the sort of script I didn’t let students write when I worked at a film school–it’s a lazy script, with no imagination and nothing fun. Worst of all, it’s just flat out not funny. The characters are too pathetic to identify with, and Jane, as a blond skinny white girl, just reminds me how much I hate self-centered people.

In the interest of full disclosure, I really hate stoner movies. There’s nothing more odious to me than the idea that a film was made with the entire purpose of entertaining a demographic whose idea of mindblowing comedy is jingling their keys or farting twice in a row. Comedy to me is a  fine art, something practiced and refined; if you don’t believe me, look at the years successful stand-up comedians spend working their way through the no-man’s-land of crappy comedy clubs until they start acting or writing. To get up and have the courage not just to try, but to bomb (and you WILL bomb, it’s going to happen at some point) is a tremendous exercise not only in learning, but in character.

Which is why this movie disappointed me so. Anna Faris has definitely paid her dues in the comedy salt mines, which is why a role like this is beneath her. Faris plays Jane, an out of work actress. After smoking her usual morning’s bowl, she accidentally eats her room mate’s pot-laced brownies before realizing she has several tasks she must complete that day: she must pay the electric bill, pay off her dealer so he doesnt’ take her furniture, and go to an acting audition–all of which are transformed into herculean tasks by the amounts of pot she’s ingested.She seems to have a background in economics, no doubt the filmmaker’s attempt to give her character some depth, but the theories she spouts just sound like what they are: lazy writing.

What follows is a meandering exercise in stoner comedy. At the audition the other actresses are meticulously dressed and coiffed–Jane is slovenly in unwashed jeans, no makeup and lank hair. Her audition is with grim casting director Jane Lynch, who is always a treat except when she’s wasted in films like these–I hope doing this movie was a way to finish paying for renovating her kitchen or something.

Krasinski enters the scene as a friend of Jane’s room mate who, due to his attraction to her (what’s not to like? the not-showering, the constant smell of pot and sweat, the directionless lifestyle) she manipulates into driving her to Venice beach so she can pay off her dealer. She manages to get Krasinski’s wallet stolen, gives the investigating office a false name, then runs away in a paranoia fit and hides in her old professor’s house. Krasinski’s character is another lazy stereotype I hate: the guy into RPGs and comics who is desperately in love with a girl because she’s the only one he can get and he has no experience with women. I AM one of those people and am here to tell you that there’s no shortage of women into sci-fi and games, if you know where to look.

There’s really no more point to discussing the rest of the movie: crazy stuff happens, Jane gets her comeuppance, and sort of learns a lesson. The film is sprinkled with actors all worth much more than this sort of film: John Cho, Danny Trejo, the aforementioned Lynch, Danny Masterson, Brian Posehn, Michael Hitchcock, the voice of Roscoe Lee Brown (the narrator from Babe) and even Carrot Top all make appearances, leading me to suspect they thought they were appearing in a film that might make an argument for the legalization of pot.

I’m all for its legalization–there are slews of reasons in its favor, such as reducing the prison population, a new source of revenue and international tourism. But none of those arguments are made by this film. The closest thing to an argument that can be made is ‘high people are mostly harmless,’ and even taht’s a stretch considering the trail of destruction Jane leaves behind. This is the sort of script I didn’t let students write when I worked at a film school–it’s a lazy script, with no imagination and nothing fun. Worst of all, it’s just flat out not funny. The characters are too pathetic to identify with, and Jane, as a blond skinny white girl, just reminds me how much I hate self-centered people.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans

Many people will watch the film and treat it as a huge joke; a drug-frenzied romp in the tradition of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, in which the ends justify the means and the hero overcame all odds, including his crippling addiction and gambling habit. There’s a certain charm in laughing at the character after all, but for me it was more like whistling past the graveyard. We laugh at things for different reasons–sometimes it’s because something frightens us or makes us uncomfortable, and that could certainly be applicable here.

In another universe or dimension, Werner Herzog’s remake would have made a truly amazing horror film; in certain communities, I would hazard, the unfolding events are more terrifying than any vampire, alien or zombie.

Think about it: An unhinged, drug-addled cop with a gambling problem and a predilection for shaking down citizens for drugs, who steals from the evidence locker, terrorizes the powerless and ignores rules he doesn’t like. This character is essentially a boogieman of the ghetto, a story the disenfranchised and economically/racially oppressed tell their children to keep them from a life of crime. ‘Drop out of school, or steal a car, and Officer McDonaugh will get you!’

In one scene, McDonaugh shows up at someone’s house (I honestly don’t remember the context) and proceeds to smoke weed in the man’s bedroom with uniformed officers waiting outside. The former rambles a terrifying and unhinged theory on life, the universe and everything after sending out the other officers so he can ‘be alone’ with the frightened suspect, even offering him a hit.  The fellow is being coerced into giving up information, with the veiled threat that McDonaugh will plant the very weed he’s smoking on the man once he’s being arrested.

This plays into the general populace’s ambivalence about The Thin Blue Line: we all want to believe in Office Friendly, but movies and TV have convinced us that at their worst cops are a sadistic brotherhood who viciously protect their own, and at their best are brave men and women who secretly daydream about vigilantism after years of witnessing horror.

Perhaps that is the entire reason the film (ostensibly a remake except for the fact that Herzog insists it isn’t) is set in New Orleans, a city whose pre-Katrina police force was legendary for being the most corrupt in the United States. McDonaugh’s actions certainly have consequences, and the descending steps of his downward spiral are less news to his peers and colleagues than cuneiform. But we aren’t interested in seeing him punished for his misdeeds; after all, it’s more than clear the character’s life is punishment enough.

Nicholas Cage’s performance has been widely discussed and praised; indeed, the story and other characters take a backseat to McDonaugh’s unraveling, and really aren’t missed. In one scene, a slowly closing door reveals him lying in wait for an old woman and her nurse in order to interrogate them. His eyes are wide and unblinking, his clothes and hair disheveled as he hasn’t showered, slept or eaten in days. As he menaces them from behind the door, struggling not to let the effects of the heroin he accidentally snorted get to him, while running an electric shaver over his face. Never has an act of self-maintenance seemed so menacing, so cold, and so hilarious at the same time.

Many people will watch the film and treat it as a huge joke; a drug-frenzied romp in the tradition of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, in which the ends justify the means and the hero overcame all odds, including his crippling addiction and gambling habit. There’s a certain charm in laughing at the character after all, but for me it was more like whistling past the graveyard. We laugh at things for different reasons–sometimes it’s because something frightens us or makes us uncomfortable, and that could certainly be applicable here.

Upon my viewing I found a monster much more terrifying than any of the paltry CG threats crowding the big screen these days. Dirty cops rank somewhere above ghosts and below flesh-eating bacteria on my ‘Nightmares’ hierarchy.