*This letter contains spoilage. If you have not seen the new Superman flick, skip this until you do.*

Dear Clark Kent,

This is my last letter to you. I don’t care if you ever respond. I finally saw your latest adventure, Superman Returns. The theater was packed, so congratulations. In the midst of the previews, there was a commercial for the new Spider-Man flick. I used to love that comic when I was a kid but Jesus, are the movies not all the same, or what? Part two was part one again, but with a touch better writing and better effects. But having better effects than the first Spider-Man flick is easier than stealing candy from a dead baby’s hand.

But this is about you Clark. Not Peter. You know my beefs with you and your city. Everyone does, but I was strong enough to put these biases away for 2 hours and 37 minutes of my life.

And God Damn you Clark. For that first hour, you had me like a drunk chick on roofies. It had a cannibal dog! How great is that? “Wasn’t there two of those?” I was laughing so hard. I was going to love this movie, regardless of the glasses thing. When I saw that clip in the trailer of the plane spiraling down to the ground, I was less than impressed. In the final product however, I was almost at the edge of my seat. The crowd in the theater loved it too - they applauded you when you placed the plane safely in the ball field. I even loved watching your stupid girlfriend bounce around the plane. How did her neck not break (or even an arm or something)? Oh, right, suspension of disbelief, got it.

Then the film took that usual turn that many films take in the middle. A turn down the wrong street. Lex Luthor’s best idea for world domination was crystals that grow landmass in the water? Real Estate? Just so I am clear, he dips crystals into the water, and they grow like sea monkeys? That is the most sinister thing he could come up with? That’s about as lame as the plot in Tomorrow Never Dies.
The kid then pushed the piano into that dude with the dog tattooed to his head, rendering him dead. Bryan Singer loves to make James Marsden suffer, doesn’t he. First, in X-Men and X-2, he gives him the wonderful Famke Janssen as a girlfriend but creates conflict with Wolvie. Now in Superman Returns, he gives her a girl I’d give my life for (Kate Bosworth) and a kid he believes is his own but for him, sadly, Lois loves Superman and the kid may not have any relationship to him whatsoever. Ouch.

There is another thing that kind of perplexed me a little bit towards the end. When Parker Posey throws the crystals out of the helicopter, you mean to tell me that none of them made it into the water? Because you were lifting that giant mass of land and pieces were falling all over the place. Yet, those 5 or 6 crystals stayed in perfect place on the top? Oh, yeah, suspension of disbelief. Right.

My man Pete Vonder Haar brings up a very interesting point in his review, Clark. What’s with you using your vision to spy on Lois at her house? What if she was dropping a deuce or masturbating or something? Have you ever heard of privacy dude? You creeped me out too man. The government will no doubt try and snatch you up once they learn that. Patriot Act, here you come.

The film tells me that you were gone for 5 years. Metropolis didn’t get any smarter in that time either. They find no coincidence in the fact that the same day Clark Kent returns to work after a 5-year hiatus, is also the same day that Superman breaks his 5 year hiatus too. Not only can they not figure out your hair and glasses trick, but also this simple coincidence goes unnoticed to everyone. People who work in a NEWSroom - journalists and reporters. Roger Ebert said it best with subtlety in his review with, “Now Superman and (coincidentally) Clark have returned, Clark gets his old job, and Lex Luthor (Kevin Spacey) is out of prison and plotting to rule the earth. I slanted the subtle part for you.

Vonder Haar and Ebert also gave the film similar ratings. Pete gave it 2 1/2 (about a 50% on the Film Threat scale) and Roger gave it 2 stars (also about a 50% on the Ebert scale). I’m with them. Consider that a compliment though dude, as I’ve pretty much hated you from the get-go and your stupid town/girlfriend. Especially when she was played by Margot Kidder. Her voice haunts my dreams still. And no one should ever have to know what color her panties are either. The next time she asks, do us a favor and don’t answer. For a movie that is almost 3 hours, it certainly felt incomplete.

Well, it’s getting late (or is it early?). You take care of yourself. Obviously kryptonite can’t kill when it’s embedded in your back, so you should be good to go for years to come. Goodbye Clark.

Regards,

Michael Ferraro

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Today’s entry is going to be a shorty. The IMDB posted a story yesterday about the infamous Jerry Falwell, that man of too many words. In the brief story, it quotes Jerry as saying, “You know, you almost got to be a homosexual to be recognized in the entertainment industry anymore.” The industry in question is film business of course. He then adds, “Movie stars not married to each other, having babies and making headlines all over the world as though they were doing some great thing. Big deal! Just another moral pervert. And for them to become heroes for our kids.”

The thing I never understood about the whole “Gay Marriage” debate was when people said that it ruined the sanctity of marriage. That has to be the dumbest thing I have ever heard. Let’s take a good look at how straight people handle marriage for a second. Almost half of all straight marriages end in divorce. In my world, that “ruins the sanctity” of marriage much more than gays. Why not put divorce into the constitution if you want to save your precious marriage kingdom?

I guess that’s why I am not in politics. My brain attempts to find the actual cause of a problem, not find scapegoats.

The following words are the opinion of Michael Ferraro, not that of Film Threat. So take it out on him and don’t bring your ones to town son.

Falwell probably thinks that being gay just isn’t natural. That’s pretty amazing too, considering he believes that Jesus came from a virgin womb. Let’s take a trip down Imagination Lane for a second. Pretend that I am a woman. Now, let’s say one day I wake up and I’m pregnant, but I’ve never had sex. What are the chances that people would believe that story? That I am the mother of some new savior, even though I’ve never had sex. I’d be put in an institution and never heard from again. Yet, his savior was built on the words of a group of people over 2000 years ago, the same group of people who probably invented the rectal pear.

Is Hollywood really built on homosexuality? Maybe he came to this conclusion watching the new Superman film but I doubt Falwell is a superhero fan. I doubt he is a fan of anything, outside of the religious text of course. It’s obvious Falwell doesn’t own a copy of Brokeback Mountain on his DVD shelf. It must piss him off that Wal-Mart has no problem selling it too.

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“Dude, have you ever seen Tommy Boy?” asked Fat Steve.

“Unfortunately,” I reply.

“What, you didn’t think that movie was funny?”

“No, I sure didn’t.”

Fat Steve then goes into a brief description of everything that was supposed to be funny about that film. I just stood there, not laughing at anything he described, and he looked at me like I was insane. I never found anything about that film funny. In fact, I’ve never found anything funny about Chris Farley. Not his Saturday Night Live schtick, not Black Sheep or Beverly Hills Ninja, nothing about this man was ever funny. I think it’s safe to say that Chris Farley was the probably the most un-funny person on the planet, outside of Pauly Shore or Adam Sandler.

If you are a Farley fan, think of all the stuff he ever did to make you laugh. Chippendales (pardon my spelling if that’s wrong)? Fat Guy in a Little Coat? I guess those things are funny, if you’re a complete idiot.

When I was in Vegas, for Cinevegas, I had the grave misfortune of seeing one of the worst movies I have ever been subjected to. I haven’t walked out of a film since 2001’s Rollerball. Almost 5 years of not walking out of movies. I was feeling pretty good. I mean, I didn’t walk out of War of the Worlds or Spider-man. But this one film was worse than both of those combined.

I grabbed a seat next to Mark Bell. The film started and, for the next 40 minutes anyway, there were fart jokes galore and fat people running in slow motion. At about the 20-minute mark, I leaned over to Bell and said, “Dude, I don’t think I can handle too much more of this.” 20 minutes later, I did it. I left the theater. The film in question you ask? Nacho Libre, a film structured around countless fart jokes (not one of them funny) and fat people (both kids and adults) wearing clothing designed to garner a laugh.

I don’t think fat people are funny. I don’t think fat people running in slow motion are funny. I don’t think Jack Black running in super slow motion with sweat pants so tight you can see his dong flop around is funny. I don’t think fat kids in tight clothing are funny. Nacho Libre is all of these things and then some. In the 40 minutes I saw of it anyways. My original plan actually was to write about how fucking awful this film is but then Fat Steve brought up Farley.

When I first heard that Chris Farley died, I wasn’t really affected by it. I didn’t know the dude and he never made me laugh. The only thing that saddened me was an image of David Spade on the tube sapping because he just lost his good friend.

Chris Farley died of an overdose but I am willing to bet a dollar that the extra weight surrounding him only helped the situation. Farley loved making people laugh and people loved to laugh at him going crazy, throwing his fat body around, tearing clothes and breaking coffee tables. One thing Farley fans can never do, is tell me something he said or did that was funny that didn’t involve his weight.

Since Chris Farley loved making people laugh, and people only laughed at his weight, he wasn’t in a hurry to try and lose some of it. If he did, maybe he wouldn’t have been so depressed and maybe, he’d be alive today. But this is only a speculation, like many things in my life.

Who killed Chris Farley? You did. The guy with Tommy Boy on his DVD shelf. The guy with the SNL DVD with the “best of” Farley on it. Fat Steve did it. You killed him. And I hope it feels good.

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Thanks for the inspiration, Lillian.

I remember my first time seeing “Cabin Fever”.

It was 2003. I remember that year being a particularly awful one, and I was anxious to see it in hopes it would provide fleeting entertainment. I didn’t know who Eli Roth was then, and personally I didn’t care, all I knew was that I wanted to see what looked like one of the best horror movies ever made.

I was better off not caring about Roth, because now that I’m fully aware of him, I find it’s hard to watch horror movies knowing that fans consider him the horror auteur of the new Millennium.

The day I went to see “Cabin Fever”, I had a choice between it or “Underworld”. Upon viewing both, I should have spent that ten dollars on lunch. While “Underworld” ended up being just a forgettable sub-par light weight fantasy effort, I remember regretting watching “Cabin Fever”.

“Cabin Fever” holds a precedent.

It’s the only film I’ve paid for I nearly walked out of, it’s the only film I’ve been to that had three people in the theater, it’s the only film I’ve been to that actually inspired me to demand my money back, it’s the only film I’ve ever seen in theaters I was completely wrong about, it’s the only film that had me nearly break down in tears, and it’s the only film I’ve ever seen that made me re-consider the horror genre. Never have there ever been a longer ninety minutes.

In a review for “Cabin Fever” I passionately declared: “Eli Roth should never be let behind a camera again”, and sadly that hasn’t become a popular opinion. Sadly, he’s gained a fan base, and shockingly, he’s considered a genius by his fans, which is a contradiction on his fans’ intelligence, ironically. I’ve found the fan base is mostly filled with folks who love gore and nothing more.

His worst opposition is basically just people whom admit he’s terrible or unoriginal yet still find entertainment value in his films. I, however, find nothing about him that’s redeeming. He could best be described as a suck up, and a brown noser to the discerning eye, and he’s basically done nothing but pulled a Kidd Rock.

Kidd Rock is a musician who wants desperately to be considered a big gun. So much so he hangs around hall of famers and rock stars just to leech off their clout, and that’s what Eli Roth has accomplished. He’s a man with a great team of publicists, and a hell of an agent. Meanwhile he surrounds himself around people like Quentin Tarantino, Takashe Miike, and Stephen King, and he’s considered a top gun in the horror business.

And his fans buy it. They buy it because the man gives them what’s missing in horror: gore, and only gore. I even gave “Hostel” a fair shake and desperately attempted to find entertainment value in it. Sadly, while it wasn’t as utterly unwatchable as the brainless “Cabin Fever”, it surely was a weak attempt from Roth to mimic Takashe Miike.

Roth has done nothing but mimic directors since his debut. He’s mimicked Tarantino by mimicking his favorite films, and he’s mimicked Tarantino’s style and vainly has attempted to mimick his writing style. In “Hostel” he mimicked Miike, and fans ate it up. Roth likes to pretend he’s a different mold of director, but really he’s just as shameless as Brett Ratner.

He claims he never likes to put “Directed by” in ads because he feels the credit should not be distributed in favor of him, yet he’s not above plastering “QUENTIN TARANTINO PRESENTS” in large yellow lettering on the twenty posters produced for “Hostel” to fool fans into thinking Tarantino directed it, and he never collaborates. Which is an immense mistake, either way.

Roth doesn’t like to collaborate in writing, though, with his baffling demand in Hollywood, he seems to be flexible in that principle. The result of his sole writing efforts were his first two films, two shameless pastiches of his favorite films which he doled out to theaters without batting a brow, and he continues taking sole credit for their success. One flubber he’s made that he never talks about was a “Cabin Fever” sequel script which was rejected by Lions Gate because they considered it awful, and was pushed out of his own franchise. Roth continues to play it off for fans, but it was quite an embarrasment reflective on his own “skill”.

Beyond that his films have no story, horrible writing, and terrible acting, yet his fans bite the big piece of bait he throws out to them every time, and even in the hot water he found himself in lately, he’s bound to be considered a master, even with shit like “Hostel”. One theme in particular to Roth’s writing is his ability to convey his complete and passionate homophobia.

In “Hostel”, characters refer to one another as fags, and call each other gay, they egg each other on in sexual activities with other women as a test of their sexuality, yet are not above committing homo-erotic pranks on one another, and the only truly gay character in the film ends up being a psychotic murderer who commits a harsh act of sadism on one of the characters halfway through. Even though he denies such speculation, the inherent homophobia shows through in “Cabin Fever” and on “Hostel”, and reflects upon his fans.

And yet, he keeps digging his hole further with comments such as:

“What I’m making is what I see. The way young people talk is, if something is stupid they say it’s gay. That’s just a word that people use. If you think that people don’t use that word, than you’re totally out of touch with youth culture.”

Who allowed Roth to take this interview, anyway? If Roth is sure that he’s so in touch with culture, perhaps he doesn’t subscribe to the same culture as others do. Beyond gaming, trailer trash, beer drinking, MTV viewing teenagers, who actually calls each other “gay”? Sad fact with this interview is that Roth really has no idea, yet he continues to hang the stupidity sign proudly:

“Hey, quit being a fag!” or “Oh, that’s so gay!” They’re not saying it in any kind of homophobic or sexual context, that’s just how they talk. That’s a word people use. So like am I not allowed to put that in movies?”

Roth, himself, feels the need to become a martyr, and actually defends the need to include homosexual names within his films and seems intent on continuing to do so with his future films, because he can, and he feels doing so will act as further proof to his fans that he’s a rebel. And, who can stop him?

Regardless, of the fact when you make these words alright to say, especially with a culture that sponges up every word possible, you begin a new trend of homophobic youth culture, the one that Roth seems to be so in tact with. Of course, watching MTV really doesn’t qualify you as a scholar on youth culture.

But then this is the man who allowed his film to be advertised as one of the goriest films ever made, when it was a lie. He allowed the public to think Tarantino directed “Hostel”, and it was a lie. He’s been allowed to think that cutting and pasting your favorite scenes from other sources in every film you direct is okay, and that’s sad. Why give someone so creatively inept more of an excuse to be creatively inept? He’s considered by many to be “The Future of Horror”, and if he’s the future, I may want to consider a whole new genre to follow.

Roth wants to be Miike, he’s dying to be Tarantino, he longs to be Carpenter, but really he’s just a creatively impotent frat boy without an artistic bone in his body, and sadly he’ll be successful, because he’s in that zone with Joel Schumacher, Michael Bay, and Brett Ratner in which he’s terrible in every effort, but he’ll be laughing all the way to the bank, because he has a great team, and relies on his brainless fans to sop up whatever he feeds them, while ass kissing reporters praise him mercilessly.

Hey Tarantino,

If you and Roth really are friends, and it’s not all just a gimmick, perhaps you may want to advise him that when he speaks, words come out of it, and they don’t always make sense. Perhaps he’d best have someone feed his lines to him in a radio next time, or have a representative. Because if you can’t say something smart, you may not want to say anything at all.

What strange new world with such people in it.

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Even with my favorite film of all time (12 Angry Men) on the list, I’m trying to understand the logic behind such an arbitrary list as “AFI’s 100 most inspirational films”. Do they comprise these lists just for ratings on CBS, filler, or to draw attention to the American Film Institute? Hey, AFI, how about screening one of the rare films you’ve restored on network television, or how about re-releasing one of these restored classics in the theaters for major distribution?

No, that would be dumb!
These lists are where it’s at!

Regardless of the fact, I took a look at their list, and it’s really all nothing but God Bless America drippy Americana that really doesn’t surprise or dare to challenge us. With these lists you can never win, if they go too obscure, they’re called pretentious, but if they go too obvious, it’s really no use.

Suffice it to say, we’re never going to see “AFI’s 100 greatest horror films”, or “AFI’s 100 most depressing films”, or even “AFI’s 100 worst films of all time”, now that last one is something I’d pay to watch. Either way, you have to question a list that bears films that are religious, patriotic, or sappy. Because simply, there are no other types of inspirational films in the film lexicon, because Americans can only equate good and moral with patriotic and religious.

Though, I admit, there were some interesting films presented, I guess the list must have really been reaching for titles, for the AFI to do away with their guidelines of leaving out films from the last twenty years seeing as how “Hotel Rwanda” (a fine film), and “Ray” (overrated but fine) are somewhere near the nineties.

But “Inspirational Films” would somehow further push the notion that a film can’t be art, or entertaining if it doesn’t uplift or inspire us. Which is why many people explain their distaste for a film with “It was too depressing”; I have one friend who refuses to watch anything that doesn’t make her feel good. This is our further ability to want to think that life is nothing but good and uplifting. Hell, in the bible after Jesus is tortured and crucified, he rises from the grave.

This is our bubble, folks, this is basically us sinking into further denial. And that’s dangerous, because it lulls us into a false sense of security, like everything is right in the world, and, not to play the conspiracy theorist, but is isn’t. Phone companies are listening to our calls, the patriot act is in full effect, our civil liberties are being stripped from us daily, it’s tougher and tougher to get a job these days, where four out of five people born poor will die poor, and the rich get richer. I could go on forever here, folks. But you can understand my dismay for lists such as these. And do not give me that “After Katrina, and 9/11, America needs uplifting entertainment” bullshit, because it’s basically just spin and excuses. After I wrote that sentence, I read the statement by AFI that basically said it better than I did:

“The past few years have not been easy in America–from September 11th to the devastation of hurricanes Katrina, Rita and Wilma. AFI’s 100 Years…100 Cheers will celebrate the films that inspire us, encourage us to make a difference and send us from the theatre with a greater sense of possibility and hope for the future.”

Life can be fun and happy, but it’s also sad, and depressing, and pointless. To acknowledge the bad with the good is called reality, but only preferring to acknowledge the good can be harmful. Sometimes life has no silver lining, sometimes there’s no happy ending, or comeuppance. Sometimes the hooker doesn’t have a heart of gold, the criminal gets away, the hero dies, the victim is burned at the stake, and the geek doesn’t get the girl. But sinking into an “everything is dandy” sensibility can leave the door open for dangers, and intruders, and then before we know it, our lives are changed.

And this denial is why the studios refuse to market films that don’t have silver linings. Many films that chronicle tragedies have silver linings. Hell, the upcoming “World Trade Center” seems based on a rigid diet of “many people died, but god bless America” attitude. One particular odd case was Weinstein’s decision to give the remake of “Kairo” a more audience-friendly ending seeing as how the first cut didn’t get a good reaction. It’s disappointing how even post-apocalyptic films about the end of the humanity have to have a happy ending or a gleam of hope. “28 Days Later” had one, “Independence Day” had one, and do you recall the sheer idiocy of the uplifting ending to “The Day After Tomorrow”? Bad enough the movie sucked. People don’t care if the content is rich, the characterization deep, or the acting compelling, they just want safe, reliable, predictable, and hopeful.

But, I just wonder about this list, and what acid the “judges” were on when picking out certain films. The most infuriating entry has to be “Thelma and Louise”. Pardon me, but I just don’t see what’s so inspirational about a neo-feminist tirade about two she beasts who go on a cross country crime spree while evading a seemingly endless group of dumb, mean, and abusive men. I just don’t. I’ve endured endless criticism and backlash for my vocal antipathy for that crappy hypocritical neo-feminist “Men suck, women rule!” manifesto, so save your opinions. Fact is, when one of the most overrated movies ever made is featured on a list as “inspirational”, I take exception to it. But the AFI are not always known for their strict choices on their lists.

My point is, I just don’t see what the purpose of this list is, because it’s just a basic reshuffling of the “100 Greatest of all time” list and throws in a few of the recent popular films, all for the purpose of pushing the notion that a film can only be inspirational if it promotes patriotism and religion, and that it’s only art if it makes you happy. It’s why Guliani, and Bloomberg have muffled many artists in New York, it’s why Deodato was banished, it’s why Roger Ebert hates certain horror films, and it’s why we, as a civilization are so easily manipulated. Suffice it to say, it’s a rather inane compilation, and one that’s really as useless as an extra toe. I see the only purpose it serves is to further widen the bubble that much of American culture lives in, and when that bubble bursts, you’re in for a rather rude awakening.

That’s why people like Neil Labute, and Woody Allen are able to keep it real. Allen was able to maintain a spirit of happiness even with a sad ending on “The Purple Rose of Cairo”. A feat not many directors can accomplish. But these artists are few and far between from the rest who prefer to show us uplifting stories that tell us that life is good. And hey, it can be, but not all the damn time.

Just stay real. Denying that life has its moments of horrifying sadness is a dangerous thought process. Happiness is very possible, life can be great, but if you invite the possibility of danger, you’ll always be grounded in reality, and ready for anything or anyone attempting to ruin it. Or manipulate it.

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This entry was originally written last week during the Cinevegas Film Festival and, for me anyways, represents the last lost blog entry…

Dear Clark Kent,

Oh, I get it. You’re too busy to answer a simple letter. You have to send one of your mall “Supermen” in your place to answer me, like a lazy Santa Claus. That’s fine. I see how important this friendship is to you. I’m alone in the dark, like Uwe Boll and Christian Slater.

But I do have a question for you Clark. I told you I was coming to Vegas right? I mean, you did know that, didn’t you? I was sitting down in a theater the other day here at Cinevegas, when an important looking chap with a headset on (like Madonna) walked in and shouted, “Uh, folks! Just so you know, there will be no flash photography of any kind before, during or after the screening. If you take a picture, you will be thrown out.”

Then, after that odd message to which no one had any idea what he was talking about, 4 other dudes with suits came waltzing in the joint. I was curious as to what was going on, when there you came, in your full glory. You (played by Brandon Routh) walked in there like you owned the joint. Did you know that Angel (Ben Foster) was also in attendance?

The new Superman, in my theater, watching a block of shorts (which included the premiere of Pardon My Downfall by the Zellner Bros.).

I gave you a wave but you ignored my smiles. I hate you Superman. I hate your stupid costume, your dumb girlfriend, your idiotic hair style with that dumb curl, your stupid spectacles and your stupid town.

But do you know what I hate even more Clark? I hate the new cardboard display advertising Superman Returns. What the hell is this?

Good god. That’s just awful Clark. Awful. I want to meet the guy who approved this terrible image. Does Warner Bros. actually think this will pull people into the seats?

So I guess that’s it. You were in Vegas and you were too good to let me know. I hope it feels good.

Word to your mother,

Michael Ferraro

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This was originally supposed to be posted on Friday, June 16th. Due to internet issues, it did not make its way to the site… UNTIL NOW!!!!

It’s amazing how maddening lack of internet access can be when you work for a website. All I want to do is update the podcast, post a review, SOMETHING but… no, I sit in the corner of the HQ, listening to Fiona Apple on the loudspeaker while the TV plays “Viva Las Vegas” for the 50th time (Ann-Margeret is officially the hottest woman on the face of the Earth… of maybe it’s Elvis… I JUST DON’T KNOW!!!). 

No tales of debauchery for me to tell this entry. I didn’t do anything last night but go back to the hotel room and get a good night’s rest. There was a party, but I did not partake in the festivities. Have I finally hit the wall? Is my festival strength sapped? No, not really. See, I know tonight is going to rock, I know tomorrow night is the grand finale and I want to be prepared for whatever madness is about to assault us. Start strong, stay strong, finish strong.

Gore is finally among us with the G4 crew in tow, getting interviews and various b-roll. Hopefully we’ll get some good pics or video of that special brand of nonsense that is Gore at a festival party. Sure, I dance on bar-tops and sure, Michael killed a carny in front of the “Show in the Sky” crowd at the Rio, but Gore… he’s insane… 

Speaking of that “Show in the Sky” crap, part of their “charm” is that they throw beads from these platforms that hover above the casino floor. Unlike Mardi Gras, you do not have to show your tits to get beads (which is nice, because sometimes I get shy). Anyway, folks go nuts for this… but not me. I don’t want beads. I don’t want beads so I don’t look up and give them the “throw me a bead” look, nor do I stop walking. I get through the casino as fast as possible. But they still throw beads at me. Take this tale from a couple days ago:

I’m walking along and suddenly I hear beads hit the floor right behind me. I spin around and no one’s there… so I keep walking. And then I see beads hit the ground in front of me. No one in front of me is clamoring for beads. A few steps more and the beads hit again… and I realize the danger I’m in. They are targeting me. I am a game to them, like shooting the dancing bear. So I begin walking all over the place, dodging between the slot machines as the bead-bombs continue to fall, each one maliciously determined to hit me in the head. I know if I can get to the escalator and the second floor, I should be safe… but there’s a ton of open space between me and escalator, and the moving platform is right above my path. This could be the end, and I begin to run the headlines through my head: 

“Journalist Brained By Beads”

“Death by Severe Beading” 

“Game of Hit the Big Guy Goes Awry”

“Holy Shit, That Guy’s Dead… only at the Rio’s Show in the Sky!”

But I’m not one to stand there and do nothing. No, I’ve got one shot, like Eminem rapped about, and I have to make my move. So I drop the ball-cap low, flex the shoulder muscles and stride across the room. And the beads fall. And they miss. And I’m on the escalator.

I get to the second floor and relax. No more bead-death from above. Life is good… until a string of beads go whizzing by my head. I look up and the clown with the handful of beads is now baseball throwing the beads at me. Luckily I manage to dodge behind the pillar at Weinershnitzel as another beadery whizzes by and then I round the corner, out of range. Visibly shaken, sweating more than usual, I make my way to my car… only to notice that the driver’s side is unlocked. 

I locked my car, this is not correct. I open the door and all over the passenger seat are the contents of my glove compartment. I begin rifling through everything, making sure my registration is still there, which it is. Looking around the car, the iPod adapter is still there, as is the loose change. So what did they steal? Seeing everything where it should be, I realize the only thing of value in my entire car is the pair of dress shoes in the trunk. So I open the trunk and… they stole my dress shoes. Someone broke into my car and stole my dress shoes.

Who does that sort of thing? Various theories exist, one being that the strict dress club at certain Vegas clubs causes folks who do no have the proper attire to steal said attire as soon as they are able. Being the extremely handsome, well-dressed individual that I am (did I mention my modestly tight ass?), I was a perfect target. I was the type of guy dress shoe thieves look out for. Now that I know this, I intend to dress less awesome. I mean, still awesome but not well-dressed awesome. More like “hella-awesome-fuck-stud-cool.” 

This blog is going on forever, so I want to recount my meeting with Penn from Penn and Teller to end this on the proper note. 

On the way to the Shark Reef, as I wound my way through Mandalay Bay (horses eat hay, while they say neigh, it’s a beautiful day, splash), I was jostled by a very disturbing sound. It sounded like the last moan of a dying man. My face scrunched up in disturbed disgust, just in time to see Penn rounding the corner. He saw my scrunched face, so to explain I mentioned that I thought the music was a real person singing in the casino, instead of a song playing on the speakers. His response? “Yeah, Sinatra.”

Make of that what you will, but my first reaction was embarassment…   

SHAKIRA SHAKIRA! (*Shakira warbles in response*)

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Sorry folks, but from now on, Michael Ferraro will not be writing on the blogs. Just kidding. Hah, you should have seen your face, sucker. Seriously, who can replace Michael? With Michael busy and all, he asked me to help him along with the blogs to contribute some of my own thoughts on film, entertainment, etc. To put it bluntly, I was honored. Anyone who reads his blogs knows he has a keen talent, and now I’ve filled my sucking up quota. I prefer to call it being grateful, but I digress.

The title of this entry sounds like a reality show, doesn’t it? Almost. Well, if the constant remakes aren’t drilling through your brain already, New Line, and Harvey Weinstein are planning a remake for “Battle Royale”. I won’t gripe about it though. I knew it would happen eventually before the remake trend began, and until any news comes in about pre-production, it’s still in the talking stages. Before I ever actually saw “Battle Royale” it became painfully obvious this would be remade.

“Battle Royale” is too good a story to let the Asians have all for themselves, and Americans are too dumb to want to watch a movie with subtitles. Not to mention with the boom of Discount Television (Reality TV), it was going to happen. So, instead of ranting here for four pages about how creatively bankrupt we are, and how stupid Americans are to endure these films and flock to see them, I’ll instead offer some healthy advice to Weinstein.

Hey, I hate remakes too, but you can’t fight what you can’t stop. And you can’t bitch when you know you’re going to see it anyway.

Here’s how America will have “Battle Royale”, or in simpler terms, here’s how we’re bound to see the remake.

Firstly, “Battle Royale”? What in god’s name does that mean? Americans won’t know what we’re talking about. Let’s call it something that will connect to teens and audiences on a universal level. From now on it will be called “Royal Rumble”! Or if there’s copyright issues “Royale Rumble”. It works out so well, we’ll attract wrestling fans old and young, and we’ll make lotsa dough on WWE tie-ins!

And PG-13 only. We can not have a film about kids put on an island to kill each other and have too much gruesome murders. No severed heads, no girls poisoning each other, no suicides, no axes to the head, and no sex whatsoever. Also, make sure these kids are white, morons were complaining about the subtitles, so make sure the white actors speak loudly and clearly and in words without too many syllables.

The girl in the beginning has to be played by Dakota Fanning. She just has to. And let’s not have her covered in blood. That’s perverse, instead she’ll be covered in mud, this will let the audience know that though she’s been in a skirmish, it wasn’t a violent skirmish. How did she survive then if she didn’t kill anyone, you ask? Well, when she arrives she’ll be crying and said that someone sacrificed themselves for her.

And the twisted, and oddly joyous video announcer who explains the rules, and death possibilities to the students can be played by none other than Paris Hilton! Of course, who wouldn’t want to see her in an army uniform smiling at us?

The main villains, Kazuo Kiriyama, and Kitano have to be played by a seasoned actor and a young actor we’re trying to push on audiences. Now, Kazuo will be known as Brett and will be played by Chad Michael Murray, and he won’t be an unstoppable killing machine, but a killer with a conscience who will romance one of the girls. Kitano will now be played by Tommy Lee Jones or Samuel L. Jackson, and for quasi-political commentary they’ll be ex-military generals.

Fourthly, why school children? Hello? Columbine! This will definitely inspire copycat crimes of kids going on islands to shoot each other up, so instead let’s have them as college students! Yes, college students never kill one another. They’ll be blond, busty, and footballers, all of whom will look like models and not real students. If the students are old enough to look like adults, but young enough to be believable students, there won’t be a problem from the MPAA.

And if all else fails, we’ll turn them into mobsters. That’s right, gangsters and mobsters were put on an island by their boss to kill one another. No one cares about gangsters and mobsters, so people will love it! Hey, they loved that movie with Ray Liotta where he’s a prisoner.

Or turn it from a program designed to keep down the population to a reality show in the future! “Battle Royale” a reality show with adults fighting to stay alive!

You have to go with the reality show angle.

And get the actor rolodex from the WB and UPN and make sure you cast at least twelve people from their shows especially Tom Welling.

Most of all, since Columbine, and 9/11, and high gas prices, we can’t have these kids killing, maiming, and torturing each other. Kids aren’t violent or sadistic, so it would be unrealistic, instead they have to electrocute one another knocking them unconscious. It makes sense. Instead of the collars exploding and bursting their necks with geysers of blood, have it just electrocute them with a light blue glow to signify electricity, and then we have men around the island come to scoop them up and “exterminate them”, which we’ll never see, because that’d be too violent. It’s clean, it’s safe, and it’s PC.

Lastly, as the director let’s hire someone who thinks he’s underground, yet really is one of our stooges. Someone who is young and hip with the kids, yet knows how to fall in line. Eli Roth! Of course, it’s so good! He’s quasi-underground, he’s convinced himself he’s a studio rebel, when really he’s our stooge, and he’ll do anything to get attention to his movie, even saying it will be better than the original! Of course! But wait, he’s a rather violent guy, let’s get Rob Zombie! Yeah, he’s a sell out! No… wait, Paul WS Anderson!

The director for “Battle Royale” will be Paul W.S. Anderson! It works out so well!

And there you have it Weinstein, you have your remake of “Battle Royale”. Hey, if you were angered at any point during this entry it’s not because you thought I was serious, but because you know the studios would actually go through with these suggestions if they could.

Don’t shoot the messenger.

As one last statement here:

To further prove that box office numbers mean nothing, here were the early returns for “The Omen remake”:

$12,633,666

Notice how the first number is the sum of 6 added together, and then there’s 6, and then there’s two numbers of 6 divided into two, and then there’s 666. Tell me now that the studios aren’t bullshitting us. It’s about time mental midgets learn that box office doesn’t mean quality.

That figure up there proves once and for all box office returns are being fabricated. So whenver anyone says to me: “[This movie] was good because it did well at the box office”, my simple reply will be: “Shut the fuck up.” Crude, but effective.

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I know this letter may come to you late and you probably don’t really give a shit but there is something I want to share with you that I’ve been meaning to get off my chest for a while now. I never felt like tackling this issue before because I know a large number of your message board army would battle me to my death. I’m not dismissing them by any means… not entirely anyway. But I do love your devotion to your fans. It’s made clear every day on your website just how much you love your fans and how thankful you are that people really dig your work. That’s very admirable (if only George Lucas could follow your example…).

This couldn’t have been made clearer with the release of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. It was obvious that that film had one purpose and one purpose alone: “Thank you fans, this little guy is for you and for you only.” While I am indeed a Kevin Smith fan, that’s the one film of yours I don’t actually own. I just didn’t find it funny. It didn’t feel like you wrote it, instead, it felt as if it was co-written by every person on the View Askew boards. In my world, it’s the least Kevin Smith film in your filmography. But that is just me, I am not dissing the film at all. I appreciate your effort and I am glad you made it… for your fans.

I’ve pretty much been a die-hard fan of yours since Clerks. first hit the VHS circuit. After that, I heard you were doing a movie with Jason Lee, and since I was a skater back in those days, I couldn’t have been happier. And he was great and continues to be great. Then came Chasing Amy. Loved it. Though, that part when Joey sings kind of furrows my eyebrows, I still can’t say enough good things about it. Dogma then came out in one of the best years of cinema, 1999. Two years later, Jay and Silent Bob.

Which finally brings me to my point. 2004’s Jersey Girl. Unfortunately this movie was plagued by the whole Bennifer situation. The movie was released and no one really saw it and those that did, bashed the shit out of it. I saw it theatrically and, to tell you the truth, I really quite liked it. It was a giant step above that other film you did before it. Miles above it actually. When Lopez and Affleck were on screen together, it actually worked, unlike their chemistry in Gigli. People also ripped Affleck’s performance and I got to say, I was quite impressed by it. I really don’t understand the unabashed hatred towards this movie. People think Star Wars Episode II or that ridiculous Spider-man film are good movies (many of which I am sure are on your board) but that Jersey Girl wasn’t worth the film it was burned on. I’d watch Jersey Girl an infinite amount of times before having to sit through either of those pieces of dung again.

That’s a real fucking shame dude. I’ve even read/heard some of the stuff you say about the whole experience as well. I think you’ve said something like you’ll never make another film like this again. That’s just silly talk, Mr. Smith.

I’ve also heard a lot of shit about this movie from your so-called ‘fans’. Well, if someone were a real fan, much like a real friend, wouldn’t they support what you do no matter what (unless you’re throwing a group of people in a concentration camp or something)? Imagine if all of your message board army went out to the theater and supported your new film, no matter what the ridiculous media said about it, and paid for a ticket to Jersey Girl. I bet you a quarter (I’m poor dude) that the movie would have made its money back and then some. How can you support one and not the other?

I just don’t get it. I think you should make more films like this but also, you should keep up with the whole Jay and Silent Bob thing as well, so you’re “fans” don’t get all pissy like they did last time. You can do more than dick and fart jokes, though you do those rather well. Listen to yourself, not to your fans. Sure, they should inspire you, but not run you.

You know what, you just caught me in a lie. I also don’t own Jersey Girl on DVD either. But that isn’t because I don’t like the film… instead, it’s the cover. Hands down, the worst cover in the history of DVDs. Who approved that? And people wonder why it hasn’t sold too well. If you plan on re-releasing that film soon, ditch that cover. When that happens, I’ll be the first in line dude.

And congratulations for not being responsible for writing the new Superman film. Did you see how terrible it looks? Thank your lucky stars my friend.

Anyways, I’d love to hear back from you. I’m an easy guy to get a hold of. I hope this letter finds you in great spirits. Take care of yourself Kevin. I drew this picture for you so I hope you enjoy it.

Sincerely,

Michael Ferraro

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It’s now been over a day since I have been back from Vegas and I am still not fully recovered. But I have sorted through all of my photos finally and now it’s about that time to share. To begin, the Stardust sign:

Omahyra (X-3) was bowling it up to support award winner G. I. Jesus.

A few days later, in a hotel suite at The Palms with a basketball court in the middle of it, Chris Gore and Mark Bell get ready for another beverage run.

Here is the basketball court in case you didn’t believe me…

Gore had some zipper problems so Bell hooked it up.

Mark and I pretty much lived in Cinevegas HQ and waited for lunch everyday at 3:00pm.

Here I am, sandwiched between Artie Lange and Seymour Cassel supporting Beer League.

Director Kurt Voelker (Park) still glowing from his Audience Award win.

Also glowing because of the win, Park’s producer, Dana Jackson.

At this same party, Omahyra whispered some magic into my ear.

That’s about it. I still haven’t slept yet. Cinevegas was an absolute blast, I can’t wait until next year. I met a lot of cool people and shared some very interesting adventures with the crews behind 5 Up 2 Down and Park. Hopefully we’ll all run into each other soon. Until next year, good night Las Vegas.

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