March 1 is St. David’s Day, celebrating the patron saint of Wales. As my heritage is traced to Wales, I want to send a big fat kiss to my fellow Welsh celebrants around the world — and urge all Wales-loving people to raise a pint to good ol’ St. David and us sons o’ fun from the Land of the Red Dragon (or Cymru, as we say in our vowel-challenged language).

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Personally, I don’t give a s**t who wins. Nor do I care who is going to wear what. And I doubt Jon Stewart is going to be funny as the host. Or maybe I am in a bad mood?

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Ah, the art of the interview. I love me a good interview. Talking to various film directors, producers, etc., there is nothing better than talking shop.

The one thing I totally hate about interviewing someone is actually transferring the dialogue to a word document, by listening to the recording (as I usually record the interviews with my crappy tape recorder). It’s a process that sometimes takes hours. That’s actually why I don’t really do interviews all that often anymore.

Once I interviewed Rob McKittrick (writer/director) about his film Waiting, on the telephone. I strapped this mic device to the phone in an attempt to record the conversation (which was great because I learned that he wrote the script for that film while living in Central Florida, where I live, and some of the places he waited tables at were places I ate often), but the device fell through and the conversation was wasted.

That was the last interview I’ve done.

But there is one person I want to interview more than anything. I mean, every writer certainly has a dream team list of people they’d love to interview, but mine isn’t as sacred as some. I want to interview… Paul Walker.

Yes, the Paul Walker of 2 Fast 2 Furious, The Skulls, etc. That Paul Walker.

There is something about his acting style that utterly hypnotises me. I’m not too sure what it is - his frat boy mannerisms or laughable serious face poses - but I don’t mind him as much as other people do.

I even wanted him to be the next Anakin Skywalker. I wanted him to be where Hayden Christensen ended up. Have you seen Episode II? Saying Walker couldn’t have done a better job - or even just a more tolerable job - than Christensen, is just silly talk. If Walker was in that film, perhaps it would have gone from 3rd worst movie ever made, to 17th worst movie ever made. All because of a simple casting change. You feelin’ me George Lucas?

With the first Fast and the Furious, the screenwriters, director, and actors took an utterly silly premise (taking DVD players from trucks via a harpoon gun and some Honda Civics) way too seriously, thus making nothing but a bad film all around. With the second film, the crew knew how silly it was and just rolled with it. 2 Fast 2 Furious is guilty pleasure by any standards - a totally enjoyable bad movie. But since it’s that enjoyable, is it really a bad movie? I mean, it entertained me (and continues to do so as I own it on DVD, but never will I own the first one), so maybe it really isn’t a bad movie after all.

Like Running Scared.

Seeing Running Scared, not once but twice so far, made my Walker curiousity go up. He is a lot better in this film than he has been in others. Sure, his accent isn’t very convincing, but his persona is a lot more tolerable. I now want to interview Paul Walker for our fine readers of Film Threat.

I actually tried too. I contacted New Line, I contacted Walker’s publicist and manager. I’ve tried everything so far. With all my e-mails and phone calls, I’ve gotten nowhere. Either Walker is just too busy (as he has had 2 films come out this month alone, and his working with Eastwood on a new project) or his publicists just don’t care about Film Threat. You’d think they’d be down too, since I am one of the few that gave Running Scared a somewhat favorable review.

So Paul, if you’re reading this for some reason, where you at? I won’t loosen your mousse, bro.

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NOTE: Fair’s fair, I reposted an entry I made here on my other blog, now I’m returning the favor, if you want to call it that.

There’s a link to an article about director Uwe Boll on the Film Threat message boards that I really can’t bring myself to read. No offense to Terminal_NY, but bagging on Herr Doktor is getting tedious to me, frankly. Granted, the guy has yet to make a decent movie (having seen BloodRayne last night, I can confirm this), and there’s nothing out there to indicate this will change in the near or distant future. And this is someone with six freaking movies in production.

Boll has no ear for dialogue, no knack for shooting action scenes, and no sense of plot that doesn’t come from Screenwriting 101 or some other movie (the final scene in BloodRayne might as well have been directed by John Milius, seeing as how perfectly it apes the end of Conan the Barbarian). He brings out the worst in his actors, even allegedly good ones like Ben Kingsley and Michelle Rodriguez, who all seem to mill around aimlessly while waiting for the check to clear. What we end up with are alleged horror films that are funnier than most Hollywood comedies. These are the facts, and they are indisputable, as Kevin Bacon might say.

But why isn’t our intelligence more insulted by the likes of Michael Bay and Brett Ratner, two guys (names chosen at random, insert your own choices as you see fit) who benefit from monster budgets and A-list talent, and yet still manage to make unwatchable pieces of shit? If I was Boll, and I saw the man who subjected an unsuspecting world to Pearl Harbor getting $122 million to make The Island, I’d be pissed off as well.

Which is worse, from a creative standpoint: another video game adaptaion (albeit of a video game we haven’t seen adapted before), or another sequel/remake like Charlie’s Angels 2 or The Pink Panther? Who deserves more censure, the director like Boll who - by all accounts - honestly believes he’s making the best films he can make, or directors like Ratner and Bay who know they’re churning out brain-dead garbage, and simply don’t care as long as they’re up to their eyeballs in cocaine and Laotian boy whores?

Exaggeration aside, I think you see my point. All of Boll’s major American releases (House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, and BloodRayne) are currently residing in the IMDb’s Bottom 100. And yet, Pearl Harbor, Rush Hour 2, and Rent (or Bicentennial Man, all Chris Columbus movies are interchangeable for purposes of this exercise*) aren’t. Boll’s movies suck, no doubt about it, but he’s definitely not alone in that regard.

* Except Adventures in Babysitting

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When I was in college, I took a writing course taught by one Professor John Joy.  I wrote a story for the class called “Another Wilma,” in which Fred Flintstone comes home to discover Professor Joy dressed in drag as Wilma.  Wilma, it seemed, had to check into rehab for a drinking and drug problem, and Professor Joy agreed to take her place so as not to arouse suspicion from Barney and Betty.  Needless to say, when Barney and Betty come over to visit they realize there is a man in drag pretending to be Wilma.  Fred Flintstone collapses into a severe nervous breakdown and Professor Joy pulls off his Wilma wig, curses, and goes home for a bath.  Alas, he slips in the tub and breaks every bone in his body, requiring that he be hospitalized in a full body cast.  While lying immobilized in his hospital bed, he is visited by Shamu the Killer Whale.  Shamu mistakes Professor’s Joys eyebrow wiggling for a carnal invitation.  I ended the story there and wrote “To Be Continued.”  In grading the story, Professor Joy wrote underneath those closing words in large red block letters: GOD, I HOPE NOT!

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Thanks to Matt Dentler’s blog for the heads-up on this story:

MOSS BLUFF, Florida (AP) — A man was arrested and accused of fatally beating his roommate with hammers because there was no toilet paper in their home, police said.

Franklin Paul Crow, 56, was charged Monday with homicide, according to a spokesman with the Marion County Sheriff’s Office. Crow is accused in the death of Kenneth Matthews, 58, the spokesman said. Capt. Thomas Bibb said Crow initially denied his involvement, but later confessed during questioning. Crow told investigators that the men were fighting about the toilet paper over the weekend when Matthews pulled out a rifle…

Wow, so one guy pulls a rifle, the other guy goes for hammers and… the guy with the rifle loses!?! Wha?
Mental note: stock up on toilet paper… NOW…

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My time before Film Threat is easily summarized:

14 years old ’till the end of high school: Movie reviews for the South Florida Sun-Sentinel’s Teen Time section, featured every Friday in the Showtime entertainment supplement.  Finished at the end of high school because once you graduate, you’re not a teen anymore. 

Before the Sun-Sentinel, 11-14 years old, I had a passionate interest in aviation, mainly commercial aircraft and a brief desire to be a mechanic for Air Force One, before it dissolved because I didn’t want science or math saturating a future career, since I didn’t like much of either.  I understand the value of science and math in many fields, but they weren’t the fields I’d want to be involved in, and that was sealed when I spent a final nearly-frustrating semester in Statistics, two semesters ago.

I am somewhat envious of those who know exactly when they fell for the movies.  They know the movie that made them obsessed with the movies.  Star Wars. Jaws. Xanadu.  Citizen Kane.  Whatever it was, they know.  For me, it was different.  I actually didn’t think much about the movies in my younger years.  Oh sure, there’d be Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, which was the first movie I owned on VHS, Air Force One, Airport, and Airplane! (the latter three seen at the time of my interest in aviation), but I’d generally watch those over and over.  I didn’t know who Orson Welles was, what a tracking shot was, how editing happens, or even what Ray Harryhausen was known for.  There was a time also that when a movie came out in theaters, I naively thought the studio and the people involved had only finished making it the week before.

But I think I can pinpoint where movies first took a subconscious hold.  I was 7 years old, in Casselberry, Florida, close enough to Orlando that my parents and I went to Walt Disney World every weekend, the benefit of annual passes.  It was 1992, and the Friday that Bebe’s Kids had come out or the Saturday after.  It was evening, I knew that much.  And for some unknown reason, I had a sheet of posterboard, on which I was copying by hand, word-for-word, the Bebe’s Kids review from the Orlando Sentinel.  Whether crayon or colored pencils, that’s fuzzy too, but there I was, trying to draw the star rating (3, I think) that accompanied the review, as well as the box with the cast and crew names in it.  The byline too and the text. 

Thinking back to that, I’m amazed that I sit here, reminiscing over this, and naturally, clichedly (hey, if an “ly” can be used in front of words like “twisted” in quotes for movie commercials and newspaper ads, then I’ll make this one a gimme for myself), I didn’t think I’d be here back then, writing reviews and watching movies, and reading about movies.  But Bebe’s Kids was indirectly the cause of that and I’m glad it turned out this way.  I didn’t think the review would remain in my mind, untouched, ready to go off like a time bomb.  It must have accelerated when I discovered Andy Rooney right before aviation slid right on in, and realized that this was what I wanted to write.  I wanted to write about my life in Florida that way.  I wanted to be that insightful.  I wanted to be a commentator like this.

Ironically, my brief fling with aviation stemmed from when I was a tyke being carried by my Mom, happily watching the airplanes taking off and landing at Orlando International Airport.  And since aviation entered my life and fizzled within 3 years, I think I’ve found my niche with movies.  There’s nothing else I remember that could trip any new interests.  I never got into the sciences, never much into painting, so I think this is it. 

And besides, any critic, be it food, music, book or movie, most of them anyway, have an undying love for what they do.  And get many movie buffs together who’ve seen tons of movies and like the Film Threat boards, you’re liable to find many voices who know what the movies can do to human life.  It’s a good life. 

Another day, I’ll start telling you about my favorite screenings while writing for the Teen Time section when, indirectly through a wonderful editor, Oline Cogdill (who’s still at the Sun-Sentinel), I found out what screening lists were and that I could be on them.  Pokemon: The First Movie (which led to The Straight Story on the same day).  Dinosaur.  Apocalypse Now Redux, and seeing American Pie twice before it was released (though the second time was paid for at an advertised sneak preview).  Those were some of them and the stories shall come soon.

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An important note to those who have either bought the “Action” DVDs or are considering it.  To deepen your appreciation of “Action” and all the satirical digs at Hollywood, pause the 25-minute documentary during the moments where sheets of paper bearing the DragonFire logo appear.  These are Peter Dragon’s biography as part of what seems like a fake publicity press kit that I presume was created in order to pitch the show to HBO and networks, and a list of the films that were being worked on by the company.  They’re as funny as the episodes, especially when you consider how much of an asshole Dragon is during the course of the series.

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It’s happened to you: you’ve been goofing around on the IMDb, looking up some obscure work of Swedish existentialism, French New Wave, or German scheisse. One thing leads to another and you suddenly - without warning - find yourself on the main page for the Hardy Boys TV show from the ’70s.

You want to leave. Immediately. But the gooey tendrils of nostalgia hold you in place. “I remember this show,” you think to yourself. Sure, you read the Franklin W. Dixon books, and when your 8-year old self heard they were making a TV show about them, you nearly applauded yourself to death in a spasm of prepubescent enthusiasm. And yet, how could you know they were going to cast a couple of feather-haired blondes as your youthful crewcut heroes?

“Never mind that now,” you say, “I’ll just check out the credits list, see if there’s any associated trivia (there isn’t), and be on my way.” Then you scroll down and see the user comments, and your already waning faith in humanity gutters out completely:

The casting of Parker Stevenson and Shaun Cassidy as Frank and Joe was near-perfect as they complemented each other handsomely (pun certainly intended!) Parker Stevenson as blue-eyed Frank was very much the leader, taking the initiative and making the decisions most of the time. He tended to be headstrong but was more reserved emotionally than his younger brother. Shaun Cassidy played Joe as tending to be in his elder brother’s shadow and adopting a rather cynical view of matters. Although Joe generally conceded to Frank, he was more than capable of taking initiative and working independently (one example being his selfless rescue of a little girl from a fire in ‘Arson and Old Lace’). He showed emotion more readily than Frank (such as in ‘Dracula’ when their father was seriously injured).

I belatedly discovered that these have come out on DVD, initially choosing to be horrified by the possibility that this guy memorized 25-year old episodes. I’m pretty sure I watched this show every week, but damned if I can remember anything beyond the Halloween team-up with Pamela Sue Martin’s Nancy Drew and that one time when the bad guy killed Joe’s girlfriend and tricked him into surfing in shark infested waters (I remember the song “If” by Bread figured prominently in the episode). You just don’t forget drama like that.

But wait, there’s more:

Edmund Gilbert’s role as Fenton Hardy tends to be overlooked although he was a real sweetie. He was dedicated to his work but always found time for his sons. Firm but benevolent, he admonished Frank and Joe when necessary but was equally ready to console them. The Hardy men made a very close family unit and I think this is what I liked most about the series. Most of the adventures featured Frank and Joe becoming involved in one of their father’s cases. The Hardys were intensely loyal and were always there for each other. This was perhaps best shown by their mutual devastation and subsequent joy in the episode ‘Sole Survivor’ from the second season. (It made me cry. Watch it to find out what happened!)

Holy creeping jesus…

Fenton was a cop, right? I’m just trying to decide who’d emerge victorious in a battle royale between him, Mike Brady, Steve My Three Sons Douglas, Tom Eight is Enough Bradford, Jason Seaver, Steven Keaton, Cliff Huxtable, and Howard Cunningham. I think my money’s on Seaver…Alan Thicke is a real bastard, and besides, anyone would be homicidal after putting up with Kirk Cameron for that long.

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Contrary to what some people may assume, I do not enjoy writing bad reviews.  I am not a nasty person, so clearly I don’t take pleasure in being mean to people who seek out Film Threat’s opinion on their work.  In fact, my negative reviews are usually much, much shorter than reviews where I am praising a film.  I have been on the receiving end of bad reviews myself: as a would-be playwright whose sole tiptoe into the world of musical theater was greeted with hostile press notices, as a would-be novelist whose attempts at writing fiction received impolite rejections from publishers and agents alike, and in my daily endeavors of just being Phil Hall (yes, there are people who have problems with Phil Hall for being Phil Hall).  My advice to people who receive a bad review (even from me) is this: ignore it.  No person can achieve 100% approval.  Even Mother Teresa had her detractors.  If you are happy with yourself and your work, that is all the praise you need.  If people have a problem with you — it is their problem, not your problem!

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