No matter how intellectual or snobby cinenazis are, deep down inside they all have their guilty pleasures. Whether they like (and defend) the new Star Wars trilogy or think the first Spider-man film is an actual “good” movie, every film fan has at least one guilty pleasure.

That includes me. But even though I hate a lot of things about the cinema these days (just ask Don Lewis), I too have my own guilty pleasures. Many of them in fact. One of them is Paul Walker.

This didn’t start until 2003’s amazingly bad but terribly fun 2 Fast 2 Furious. I’ve spoke often about how I love this movie. I hated the first one and how serious it took itself (stealing DVD players with harpoon guns and Honda Civics? Please, blood). The second installment was just silly and ridiculous; silly enough to make me smile.

Ever since then, I’ve been keeping a close eye on the Walkmeister, though some of his films have slipped by me. I haven’t seen Eight Below or Into the Blue, though they are in my Netflix queue. What I did see however, was this year’s terribly underrated and underappreciated kinetic gem, Running Scared.

Not a great movie by any stretch of the imagination but it’s awfully fun. So far, it’s the R-rated action movie to beat this year. Boobs, explosions, guns, pubic hair, Paul Walker, blood, knives, pimps, child porn, hookers - you name it and this movie probably has it.

According to the IMDB, Running Scared costs a measly 17 million to produce and only raked in about 6.8 million at the box office. ‘Tis a shame too. I guess the time it was released had something to do with i. Or maybe people only like to see Paul Walker drive cars really fast.

The good news is, as of June 6th, it’ll be on DVD for all to see. I have a homework assignment for you fine readers. Put this film at the top of your Netflix queue. Go rent it at some video store. Heck, I’d even suggest you blind-buy it - it’s that good.

The following picture is an alternate cover for the DVD that I did. I sent it to New Line begging them to use it as the official cover (I even told them they didn’t have to pay me) and they turned me down. Here it is in full glory for you to see:

New Line decided to go with a more traditional style DVD cover. But I’m not mad. I’m still heading to the store on 6/6/06 (oooh, creepy…) to purchase it. Do yourself a guilty favor and put this in your queue.

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Dear Clark Kent,

I wrote you a few weeks ago and I have yet to receive a reply. Are you really that busy? I mean, come on dude. I’m on the edge of being/not being a Superman fan. But wait… it may be a good thing that you haven’t written me back yet. I’ve done some tests on my own, about your whole identity, and I want you to know that Metropolis is indeed the dumbest city on the planet.

I too wear glasses, Clark. A week after I wrote you my initial letter, I did the glasses technique you’ve often exercised in your comics and television shows and films, and not one single person fell for it. I’d walk up to my friends and tell them to take a good look at me. Then I’d have them close their eyes. Once closed, I’d take my glasses off, and then tell them to open up.

“Do you recognize me?” I would ask them. They would say, “Of course, do you think I am retarded?”

I did this trick to Hoops down at the Dunkin Donuts and he said, “Nigga, you crazier than a crack head at a bar mitzvah.”

Retarded. Mentally Challenged. Hmm. Could it be Mr. Kent, that you’re living in a city full of citizens suffering some sort of mentally challenging problem? That would make sense. Lois is pretty stupid.

But what does that say about your fans? Are they all this way too? That sure does explain a lot Clark. If only I could somehow prove my hypothesis.

The reason for my letter to you this time was not really to get into the minds (or mind diseases) of Metropolis’ people or of your fans, but instead to ask you about certain events in time demonstrated by the story advertised in your new film trailer (Superman Returns).

From what I gather from the advertisement, you went somewhere for a long time. You finally returned to Metropolis to and you find Lois Lane got married to some other dude and had a kid. The Daily Planet welcomes you back with open arms too. That’s good.

So, why does Lois look like she is only 24 years old? Shouldn’t she look older? I mean you did leave for a bit and she did have a kid… how come everyone now looks younger than they ought to be? Ah, I get it. You like the high school girls, don’t you. I can see it. Some little high school girl telling her friends that her boyfriend is coming to pick her up after school, and her friends are like, “What kind of car does he drive?” And this girl would say, “You’ll have to come and see.” Then, after school lets out, her friends would stand in awe as you come out of the clouds and scoop her up. She’d be the most popular girl in school.

Even Lex Luthor looks a bit younger.

But Luthor is still mad as hell, and he isn’t going to take it anymore. I told you in my previous letter that he’d be doing the world a great favor by ridding us of Metropolis. If only his corruption and evil deeds seeped through the screen and out onto your fans.

Do you know what else you did me Clark? You took away my dreams and shattered them on the pavement like that plate of glass in Final Destination 2. You stole Bryan Singer. Why did you do that? Did you see X-3? I did. Singer left and they replaced him with Ratner. David Hayter left and they replaced him Simon Kinberg. And sadly, it shows. The effects are a giant step down from the previous film, which, I can’t really comprehend. How can a movie filmed years later look worse than a movie shot before it? Does technology downgrade as time goes on?

The most troubling thing about The Last Stand is how incredibly average it is. I think I would have been happier hating it in its entirety. After X-2, in my opinion one of the greatest comic book films ever, the conclusion should have been extraordinary. Instead, we have a film where the story is sort of there (I stress “sort of”) with ridiculous dialogue exchanges, poor effects (the blue screen horror!) and apparently in Ratner and Kinberg’s world, every mutant has amazing jumping abilities.

And this film’s faults are that of your own. It’s your fault Clark. Singer left for you, a guy who fools the world by taking off his stupid glasses. Your outfit is ridiculous too, you know that Clark? I just want to punch you in your stupid head and break your dumb glasses. Then what? You’d have nothing to protect your identity then. But, as long as you stay in Metropolis, no one would ever know. Your city is stupid.
Damn, I am sorry about that. That was a little uncalled for. I’m just a touch on the frustrated side and your puny fanboys aren’t willing to help me out with either the age thing or the glasses thing.

So, when you get a second, drop me a line. I’d love to hear what you have to say on these issues and about the issues in my first letter. I hope all is well. I anxiously await your response.

Regards,

Michael Ferraro

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The following illustration and poem was drawn and written by Film Threat’s very own Stina Chyn.

The following story is based on a dream I once had.

It was a Wednesday night - about 2:16am in fact - and it was dark and stormy outside my window. My eyes were starting to give out; as if they had been lifting weights all day and now they are ready to hit the showers. I tried to fight them but it was hard - two against one. I lost the fight and shortly after, I was in a dream world.

My eyes opened and I was in the middle of an empty intersection. The clouds were dark and lighting traveled all throughout them. I was still in Florida, and being that I lived there during the 2004 Hurricane Season, I knew exactly what was to come. The wind was stirring quite a bit but the rain didn’t start yet. I still had time.

“There is going to be quite a storm,” a quiet voice said.

I turned to my left and there stood Lucy Liu. She was so beautiful. She stared straight ahead at the coming storm. The wind tossed her hair all over the place, save for one single braid that was held together by a thin black rubber band. I tried my best not to let her know how much I loved her.

I look forward once again and add, “There sure is. I wonder where everyone else is.”

Aside from Lucy and I, there were no people in sight. Leaves and palm tree leaves bumbled down the street like a motorized bee that ran out of gas.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

“I’m not quite sure.”

She looks over to me with a rather sad look on her face. I look back, right into her eyes. Should I tell her that I’d give my life to make out with her for even 4 seconds? Probably not, even in dreamland I knew this was a bad idea. What if Lucy was having this same dream?

She looks forward once again and I quickly follow suit. The sky is getting darker and the wind is picking up speed.

“I think I have to go now,” she says.

“No, you should wait. Let’s go somewhere… let’s find shelter,” I suggest and she takes me up on the offer.

We start walking down a street and I see Fat Steve up ahead a little ways. He see me from a far and he starts flagging me down with his right hand, while his left hand is clenching yet another donut.

“Who is that?” Lucy ponders.

“Damn, it’s my fake friend Steve.”

This answer seemed to confuse Lucy a little bit, as she tilted her head in my direction and asked, “Fake?”

“Yeah, Steve is one of those guys who, aside from purchasing the Special Edition DVD release of the old Star Wars trilogy, never does anything wrong so I don’t have the heart to tell him to jump off a building.”

She laughs. It’s even more beautiful in real life (okay, dream life) than it is on screen. I so wish I saw Hoops standing there instead.

We make our way up to Steve and he invites us inside a building. It was an actual business before this Hurricane came. Steve sat down on a rusty folding chair and continued watching a television he somehow rigged up to a car battery or something. He had a DVD player going too.

Lucy looks around the shop and I head over to see what Steve is watching. The images on the television look vaguely familiar.

“What is this dude?”

Steve lets out a chuckle and gets excited, “Dude, it’s War of the Worlds!”

Not the good version, the Steven Spielberg-Tom Cruise-David Koepp-Dakota Fanning monstrosity. Dreams can be so ironic. The world was ending outside and here is Steve inside a building with a donut and a copy of a really bad movie about the world ending.

“Fuck that shit Steve, I am better off outside.”

Lucy chuckles. She wanted no part of that either - she was out the door before I even stepped in that direction.

Outside, Lucy was once again in the middle of the street, staring at the black cloud moving quickly towards us. I go and stand next to her, still a little bit angered by the Steve situation.

“Sorry about that,” I tell her.

She laughs once again, then looks towards me.

“It’s okay,” she steps closer to me. “You have to do something for me…”

“I’d do anything for you, Lucy Liu.”

She gently rubs her hand on my cheek. I was so thankful I was actually smart enough to shave, so I could feel her hand in all of its glory.

“Don’t get so angry. It’ll be okay.”

Her smile is exposed once again and her hand falls from my cheek.

“You take care of yourself Mike.”

She literally vanishes and I find myself sad that she is gone. I look towards the darkness. The cloud was moving faster now and the wind was picking up. It was about to hit full force. And I was just waiting to let it hit me.

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Caution: This entry includes some naughty words that haven’t been edited out for children because this wasn’t meant for children.

Maybe I was wrong about the whole CleanFlicks issue. Aside from their spelling errors, perhaps they are on to something. If a website can devote itself to cleaning up filthy Hollywood movies by removing profanity, gore, nudity and sweet butter, what else can we do to them?

I think I may have come up with a solution. Actually, multiple solutions, as this is something that has limitless possibilities. I was at Dunkin Donuts the other day with a fellow co-worker of mine. All the employees know me in there and they always start up my order the second I walk into the place, even if there is a line ahead of me. I’m just that cool. Recently, the DD crew hired a new addition to their wonderful staff. A fellow by the name of Hoops. Hoops is a good chap. I actually think I’ve seen him blazed a few times while on the clock, without the other employees sharp enough to figure why Hoops is laughing at every order placed.

Yesterday, I walked in there like I do every day. The Coffee Man rounded up my coffee and the Bagel Lady started the toaster and armed herself with a knife full of cream cheese. Hoops was working the drive-thru when he headed over to the coffee maker. He noticed me on his way there and greeted me with, “What up, Blood?”

It took a great deal of strength not to die laughing right then and there. But I handled it like Rob Schneider with a bad script. Upon further reflection of that simple statement, and the thought of “The number one provider of Edited Hollywood movies” still on my brain, my co-worker and I (being the hip-hop fans that we are) came up with an amazing alternative to CleanFlicks and an idea I plan on copywriting.

Here is my proposal:

Introducing DurrtyFlicks - a simple alternative for those tired of all those cracker films with their PG and PG-13 ratings. We simply take Hollywood films not made for an audience seeking profanity and pimp them out X-to-the-Z style.

• Instead of Clark Gable giving Vivien Leigh a simple cheesy one-liner, the DurrtyFlicks version of “Gone with the Wind” has him telling that woman what is up by saying, “Frankly bitch, I don’t give crack-ho’s ass.”
  
• Hear Young Simba tell Scar what he is going to grow up to be, “I’m going to be king of Pride Rock, motherfucker!” in “The Lion King.”
  
• Hear Darth Vader tell Luke, “What up, Blood? I’m your father you fuck,” in “The Empire Strikes Back.”
  

So join DurrtyFlicks today and add some of our outstanding selection to your Queue and watch films like they were meant to be: Durrty as a motherfuckin’ candy cane in a sewer.

Where will it end? CleanFlicks fans say, “At least I can finally show my kid Blow.” Yeah, because there are valuable lessons to be learned there, right? Maybe, but not the kind a kid is going to pick up. There are way better choices out there to teach your kid about the ups and downs of drug use/dealing.

I’d like to know what Ted Demme would think about that if he was still alive. Perhaps screenwriters Nick Cassavetes and David McKenna have some feelings about the subject. “Well Michael, Blow is a children’s story. We aren’t quite sure where all the naughty language and drug use came from. Thankfully, the CleanFlicks people cut it out for us. Now, parents all over the world can show our story in the fashion it was meant to be shown. For kids everywhere.”

Today’s picture was illustrated by Charlene J. Pimentel.

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What is wrong with this world?

I am never amazed at what I find on the internet. Never, until now. I like to surf the internet; hanging ten on the waves on technology. The other day, I was kicking it on one of my favorite websites when an ad caught my eye. It was a small-classified type ad that said, “CleanFlicks - The leading provider of Edited Hollywood movies.”

Edited Hollywood movies? I thought it was a joke so I clicked on it to see the punch line. The punch line was, it wasn’t a joke - these people were serious. It was a website, styled much like Netflix, dedicated to sharing stupidity to parents all across the country.

I remember various media publications discussing this issue a while back but then, like many other news subjects, it vanished into oblivion.

Check the website out for yourselves. CleanFlicks.

After you’re done glancing how white and pure that family is at the top of the screen, you might be interested to know what exactly they remove from films. To quote the site:

We edit out:

Profanity
This includes the B-words, H-word when not referring to the place, D-word, S-
word, F-word, etc. It also includes references to deity (G-word and JC-words
etc.), only when these words are used in a non-religious context.

Graphic Violence
This does not mean all violence, only the graphic depictions of decapitation,
impalements, dismemberment, excessive blood, gore etc.

Nudity
This refers to male and female front and back nudity.

Sexual Content
This includes language which refers to sexual activity or has sexual
connotation. It also includes visual content of a graphic or stimulating
nature.

I’m not the smartest person in the world, nor am I a parent, but aren’t films that have such things made for a more mature audience? Amongst the various films they have on their list, are Wedding Crashers and The Passion of the Christ. I’m pretty sure when Wedding Crashers was in pre and postproduction, there was never any talk of it being suitable for children. It’s a rated R comedy through and through, as is The Passion but that film is all about the violence, which also isn’t suitable for kids.

Why would a parent want to show their kids a film that isn’t suitable for them? I don’t care how it’s edited; you’re not going to take the subject matter out, are they? Like, instead of Wedding Crashers being about two guys crashing every wedding possible in order to get laid, are they just going to each wedding to show their affection for romance?

And if you take all of the violence out of The Passion, like the website claims it does, wouldn’t that make the film about 23 minutes long? What’s the point of that?

Filmmakers use violence and profanity and nudity because they have to. They make these films for adults, not children.

It’s pretty remarkable that studios aren’t even making a big stink over this much these days. I even wondered how this legal and how they even edited these films. Where they studio approved? Looking in the FAQ section on CleanFlick’s website, I read the following question and answer (noticed how they spelled “scratched” wrong - let’s protect our kids from violence but who cares if they can’t spell worth a damn):

Why do DVDs skip or freeze when they aren’t skratched?

Some older DVD players have a harder time keeping up with burned discs. Even DVD players that are a year or two old have these problems. Try playing the DVD in a newer machine.

Aside from their spelling error, I was utterly perplexed by this. So, they take movies, edit them to their standards, then burn them on plain CDRs. And this is somehow perfectly legal?

Parents today are truly remarkable people. I’m not talking about every parent… I’m talking about the morons who think it’s okay to rent Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (another film on their fantastic list of choices) for their 7 year-old kid just because the violence and naughty words are missing. Thematically, there are still issues you might not want to subject someone that young to.

But who am I to judge. I don’t have kids, nor do I work for a film studio. I am just a writer for the film world. I guess I’ll just stop complaining now and go home and watch an edited copy Saving Private Ryan, with the whole D-Day sequence missing like it was erased from existence, like it never happened.

I’d love to see how CleanFlicks fixed Schindler’s List. Can you imagine it? Schindler’s List without all of that pesky Holocaust malarkey spoiling a good time in front of the television with my family.

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Kids often times have one single moment, perhaps more, of complete and utter stupidity that they’ll never forget for the rest of their lives. I have one such moment, a moment that has stayed with me for the past 17 or so years. And the sad thing is, it was a moment that last about 17 seconds, yet, it still resides within my memory; haunting me, teasing me.

It was September of 1988 and I was seven years-old. I travelled with my mom from Jersey to Zephyrhills (yes, that Zephyrhills), Florida to visit my grandparents and their new home. Seeing how Zephyrhills is as exciting as you can imagine, we decided to head to the movie theater and watch movie.

The theater in this amazing town only held two films at a time. Our choices were Lethal Weapon 2 and Gorillas in the Mist. Being that I was only 7, my mom opted not for the Rated R action spectacular. She instead chose the safe PG-13 movie about the life and times of Dian Fossey. I wanted fire, explosions, gun fights, etc. My mom wanted Sigourney Weaver and a couple of monkeys.

I remember the film being longer than one could care for. By the end, when some unknown person stabs Weaver and kills her, I was happy to see the screen fade to black.

As we walked out of the theater, my mom says, “That’s sad. Did you know that was a true story?”

My ignorant mind at the time couldn’t quite comprehend what my mom meant by that. My brain spun that as meaning that the actual Sigourney Weaver went to Africa, fought for some gorillas, then got stabbed. My 7 year-old mind thought that meant that when Ghostbusters 2 finally came out, it would be Weaver-less.

“So, that lady really died?” I asked.

“Yes, yes she did.”

Check out how dumb I was…

“So, Sigourney Weaver is really dead?”

My mom looked at me like I was the dumbest kid on the planet. She had a look on her face like, “This kid came out of my womb?”

She then explained to me what a film “based on a true story” meant. It was a film, fiction, fake… like The Da Vinci Code. Sigourney Weaver wasn’t dead. The person she was playing was dead.

That was the dumbest 17 seconds of my life. And a moment I will never forget, although my mother has no recollection of this story, which is for the best.

Sigourney Weaver was nominated for an Academy Award for this film. Perhaps there was a member of the Academy who thought she was dead too. But she wasn’t and because of this, we were able to see a few more Alien sequels, that second Ghostbusters movie I was so amped about then, and lest we forget 1492: Conquest of Paradise.

Actually, maybe we lest.

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I am returning to the magical world of movie acting next month with my biggest film role to date: as the horny Professor Shipwreck in “Bikini Blood Bath Car Wash.”  This is the sequel to “Bikini Blood Bath,” where I had a guest role as the horny gourmet neighbor Mr. Robinson (the film is still in post-production).  This is my fourth acting role — I’ve been in “Land of College Prophets” (out on DVD from York Entertainment) and “Matutinal Reverie” (due out later this year).  Needless to say, I am thrilled to be back in front of the camera and I will be ready for my close-up.

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…but it’s all your fault. You could have prevented it.

Over the Hedge is now in theaters. Families all over the country smart enough to skip The Da Vinci Code will show up to see it. And they damn well should, as it’s a pretty good movie with enough laughs to keep the children happy and a short enough length for the adults to stay awake for.

But what about the rest of us? Those of us without kids… what will we do? We don’t want to see Ron Howard’s snore-fest. We want to see cute little raccoons and turtles talk to each other and go on adventures. I wonder what a turtle would say to a raccoon in real life.

I saw Over the Hedge earlier this week and I did indeed enjoy this film but there were more distractions coming from inside the theater than I could shake a stick at (or toss a grenade to). Parents, are you reading? This message is for you. I’m about to tell a story about my theater going experience. I am telling you this so that you may learn from the mistakes of others. Because remember, history is what we learn from. So think of this as a historical lesson.

I knew going in this screening would be full of kids. It was a promotional screening too. So I had the flea-market crowd of cinema and kids. The worst of both worlds if you will. Minutes after the projector started, I heard little kids’ giggling, mumbling, stuttering, dumb little chatter. “Shhhhhhs” echoed from every direction in the theater. That didn’t stop them. It was madness.

Back in my day (which wasn’t that long ago), if I made a peep during a movie in the theater, my mom would smashed my head against concrete. The parents in this screening were somehow oblivious to their calamaty of a child sitting next to them, shouting. Were these parents zombies? How can they ignore something screaming in their ear, sitting in the chair right next to them?

As the movie continued, the noise became more and more constant. At one point, I stuck my hand in my pocket, hoping that a magic genie left a grenade in there. My mind painted me a picture of me tossing a magical green apple into this crowd just to shut them up so I could watch the skunk and turtle in peace and quiet.

But the genie never showed.

I remember the day I saw Fantastic Four like it was yesterday. It was a full house opening night and in the row next to me sat a rather large father figure with his pudgy son. This kid, Anal Face as I call him, had those stupid shoes with wheels on the bottom of them. This is the kind of kid I found myself wishing one of his fellow brothers or sisters pushed him out of the way on the way to the egg.

A good majority of the film, the masterpiece that it was, Anal Face was rolling his shoes on the ground making the most obnoxious of sounds while his lunchbox of a father sat there with one hand in the popcorn bucket and the other clenching a large soda. Someone in the theater even yelled, “Take your rollerskates outside!” but the father showed no interest in properly parenting his child. And because of this stupid man, a theater full of people already mortified by a terrible film lost focus of a film because of this little bastard and his stupid roller skates.

“Well Mike, why don’t you just lean up and ask the people to be quiet? Dreaming of throwing a grenade in the middle of a packed theater with mostly kids is unethical and sick.”

Two reasons. One, have you ever told someone to quiet it down in the middle of a movie? I have a billion times. It works for a second, then you have to say again later, then again later.

Two, I am not these kids parents. How come people don’t tell their kids how to act in a movie theater? Do your job - if you’re capable of reproducing (having sex) then you should have no problem teaching your kids how to be quiet in a movie theater. It isn’t that hard. They’re only kids. They aren’t going to kill you.

I know little kids aren’t the only problem in a packed cinema house. Teenagers are hell too. Old people talking throughout a movie they find too confusing. During the screening of Good Night and Good Luck I attended, this one dude snored from start to finish. And I couldn’t find the culprit because it was too dark in the theater.

Remember about 6 or 7 years ago when you could leave the house without a cell phone? Nowadays, it’s impossible for many to leave the house without a phone. “What if there is an emergency dude?” Well, what if there was an emergency when you didn’t have a cell phone? Wait until you get home. Or at least leave it in the car. I hate seeing cell phone lights all over the theater, spread out like lights on a retarded Christmas tree.

People are skipping the movie theaters. And it’s not all Hollywood’s fault. It’s our own.

And it’d be a shame if all of you theater talkers, narrators, phone users, and bad parents got hit a bus.

It really would.

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I’ll never forget the first time I saw Magnolia. When it got to the scene where Philip Seymour Hoffman gave Jason Robards the liquid morphine, my eyes misted like no movie ever made before. By the time the credits rolled, I stood up and thought, “That Paul Thomas Anderson… you fucker.” It was the first time a movie ever almost made me cry (except for when I was kid and I watched Terminator 2… when the Terminator is finally lowered into the hot steel).

In the years that have passed since Magnolia’s release, I have suggested it to a countless number of people. I worked at Blockbuster when it came out on video (”video” is a term used to describe these big tapes that movies used to be on before the days of DVD) and I told every customer I could to watch this movie. Many of them brought it back to me angry. A majority of them asked me why I liked such a depressing movie.

It was then when I stopped suggesting movies to people. Well, that, and this one time when I got in trouble for telling a customer that only stupid people will find American Pie funny. The lady rented it anyway, then called my manager to tell her that I called her stupid because she thought American Pie was the funniest movie she ever saw. People are awesome.

In 2000, another film was released that hurt me more than Magnolia and the ending of Terminator 2 combined.

The first time I saw Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream, I felt like I was punched in the stomach. When the credits rolled, I couldn’t move from the chair. I wanted to curl up and die. But he did it, he got those watery canals in my eyes to let their fluids flow.

The scene in question is when Harry (Jared Leto) comes home to his mother Sara (Ellen Burstyn) to inform her how good he is doing. Sara has some news for him too; she has been invited to be on a television show and all she wants now is to lose a couple pounds so she can fit in her favorite red dress.

It happens here. Burstyn’s amazingly powerful performance as an old woman with nothing much to live for was enough to scare me away from ever becoming a senior citizen. But then she delivers the following lines:

Sara Goldfarb: I’m somebody now, Harry. Everybody likes me. Soon, millions of people will see me and they’ll all like me. I’ll tell them about you, and your father, how good he was to us. Remember? It’s a reason to get up in the morning. It’s a reason to lose weight, to fit in the red dress. It’s a reason to smile. It makes tomorrow all right. What have I got Harry, hm? Why should I even make the bed, or wash the dishes? I do them, but why should I? I’m alone. Your father’s gone, you’re gone. I got no one to care for. What have I got, Harry? I’m lonely. I’m old.

Damn it. You should see how she delivers these words. It makes me sad just thinking about it. The first time I saw this scene, the watery eye thing occurred once more.

I bought the DVD as soon as possible. You see, when I start hanging out with someone new, or when I start dating someone new, there is a short list of films I find myself forcing these people to watch. Happiness used to be at the top of the list but it was knocked down immediately when I saw Requiem.

Not every one I knew shared my enthusiasm. A person I once showed it to said, “That movie was stupid.” Utterly dumbfounded, I asked, “How can you think that movie is stupid?” This is the best part:

“…because it was too depressing.”

I wanted to punch him in the goddamn face. “I like comedies,” she continued.

How can a person hate a movie that does nothing but kick you in the stomach and break your glasses? I’ve seen it about a hundred times over the past six years and I plan on seeing it a hundred more. That scene still kills me like it did the first time.

If I ever have kids, I’ll show them this film when they turn 10. They will probably stay away from drugs. In fact, I want to become a middle school teacher so I can show this to my students. I bet if I followed up with them 20 years later, 98% of them would be drug free.

The other 2% would be the students who liked comedies. Like that stupid Blockbuster customer who liked American Pie.

And parents, be sure to return to Film Threat blogs next week when Michael Ferraro takes on “Children in the Cinema.”

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I can’t begin to describe my love for cinema, but being a film critic, sometimes people have these preconceived notions about what my taste for movies must be. Some think that I am “that guy who hates all movies” just because I think Spider-man is one of the worst films ever made in the history of motion pictures. But I am not “that guy”. Really. If I am, how come there is a copy of 2 Fast 2 Furious on my DVD shelf next to my copy of Rashomon and Once Upon A Time In The West? Even though it’s on my shelf, I’d never want to see that movie on Turner Classic Movies. I know better than that.

Unfortunately for millions of cable viewers out there in television land, one of our channels does not know better. AMC (an acronym that once stood for “American Movie Classics” but now it probably means “American Movie Cornucopia-of-garbage”) is a station I once looked up to but it’s no big secret that the channel hit rock bottom long ago. I don’t remember exactly when it started. Who is their programming director? Two Weeks Notice”? I’d actually break up with a girl if she had that on her shelf (some films are that unforgivable).

I had strep throat last week and it hurt like nothing I could imagine. My throat felt like something Cannibal Corpse once sang about… something about being force-fed broken glass. Then I had to get a shot in my bum and that felt like someone was shooting fire in my cheek. So I stayed at home for a few days and watched some television and that’s when I noticed just how bad things got since the days when AMC showed Predator like it was about to be abolished from the Earth.

They grew tired of Schwarzenegger, and even grew tired of Glover too (as they also showed Predator 2 a couple of times if I recall correctly). As I sat there on my couch, bum still hurting from the shot, I glanced through the guide on my television at all the movies scheduled to play on AMC over the next few days.

I was shocked and awed at some of the titles. Among them, these straight-to-video Universal sequels:

• Slap Shot 2: Breaking the Ice
• Skulls 2
• Tremors 3: Back to Perfection

Other sequels were there too:

• Home Alone 3
• House II: The Second Story
• Jaws 3
• Jaws: The Revenge
• The Godfather III

They did however; try to enlighten a few minds of original films that were later remade:

• The Flight of the Phoenix
• The Poseidon Adventure

…but then they ruined their attempts by showing one awful remake and one somewhat decent remake:

• The In Laws (2003)
• Insomnia (2002)

Other titles worthy of mentioning in the “not-so-classic” category:

• Home Alone 3
• Gothika
• The Caveman’s Valentine
• Never Say Never Again
• Murder By Numbers
• Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins…

How did it come to this? Is there really that much of a television demand for Slap Shot 2? It has a Baldwin brother in it for Pete’s sake.

This channel must be stopped. It must be destroyed, erased from existence. Or maybe, someone will get smart and fire AMC’s program director. Unless it’s an evil robot that destroys anything in it’s path.

If that’s the case, I guess no one will have to worry about missing Teen Wolf 3 when the time comes to end that trilogy.

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