I bought into it.

How could I have? Seriously, how?

I never buy into hype, I never listen to what critics say even though I am one, and I make sure never to listen to internet surfers who think they know what a good movie is. Mind you, I associate myself with people who love American Idol, think “Benchwarmers” was one of the funniest movies in the last three years, thought the “Dawn” remake was better than the original, and think “Laguna Beach” is genuine reality. Seriously, they think rich, white, blonde, blue eyed, teenage models living in condos and bickering are what reality is made of.

But you can imagine my crushing disappointment upon putting on “Napoleon Dynamite” and sitting there without a single grin. I didn’t laugh once, not a chuckle, not a teehee, not even a scoff. But what astonished me was that people loved it! They were crazy about it! They said it was the funniest comedy in years (wrong!), they said Napoleon was hilarious (wrong), and they even loved that stupid dance scene with him in the auditorium. I’ve never been so much in pain.

Why do people like crap? I’m just curious. Hell, even MTV hyped this film up and Jared Hess became a potential Hollywood cash cow for making a piece of crap. But I know a million directors famous for making pieces of crap, so that’s a bad example.

I recall arguing with someone about the movie, and the argument ended up being as dumb as the movie:

“You didn’t like Napoleon Dynamite?!”

“No. I hate it.”

“You didn’t think it was at least funny?”

“I thought it was crap.”

“What about when Napoleon throws the steak to his uncle’s face?”

“That was dumb.”

“Come on, it’s funny to watch people get hit in the face with things!”

This is the extent of the intelligence the argument reached towards, and I couldn’t take it anymore. So I left. I’d like to have an argument with someone intelligent about the film just to see if they prove a point, or lead me down this road once again. Tater tots in pants, learning how to dance, the repeated Liger jokes, and–worst of all–throwing an action figure outside his bus window with a string attached to it. This is supposed to be funny. This is what the fans are finding so hysterical.

I really continue to over estimate the intelligence of American movie-goers even when shit like “Date Movie” and “White Chicks” make considerably large profits. Maybe I’m just optimistic that they’re not as stupid as I perceive them, because I live here. It’s embarrassing. I live in a country filled with morons, it’s not exactly worth bragging about if I ever travel overseas.

But then these are people who enjoy watching an entire show about a bunch of guys stapling their nuts to their legs, and will fork over large amounts of money to watch a bunch of guys throwing up on each other on the big screen.

I recall that day, being excited and anxious to watch what I thought or was fooled into thinking would be the funniest movie in a while. And then ten minutes into it, Napoleon Dynamite mutters “I’ll do whatever I want, gawd!” And instantly I said aloud without a single spark of amusement, “Oh shit, what the fuck did I get myself into?”

I’m not a bully, and I would never pick on anyone, but I wanted to beat Dynamite down to the ground until he was a bloody stump. And I bet you’re saying “Dude, that’s like so totally the point!” What is? What’s the point of Napoleon Dynamite? He’s likable because he’s unlikable? He’s cool because you want to beat the shit out of him?

Hey, Tina Majorino is cute I love her work in “Veronica Mars”, and Haylie Duff is cute in a weird kind of way, but I’m shocked that such stupidity would be considered comedy gold. I’ve seen it twice, and I just can’t sit through it. And the sad fact is that John Heder seems to be building his career around this character, which won’t last long.

You can only go so far on one character’s success. Alfalfa knew it, The Beav knew it, and Vin Diesel knows it. So far, out of Heder’s roles he’s played a stoner in “Just Like Heaven” and a mental midget in “Benchwarmers” both of which were obviously modeled after Napoleon Dynamite. When I hear people talking about it with such passion and love I think to myself “Was I watching the same movie?” I mean, I didn’t purposely try to hate it, I was actually excited about it. So why do people love it and I despise it?

They’re stupid. That’s probably the only solution. But seriously, what is so apppealing about this crap? I can’t understand it. Is it the hair, the glasses, or the fact that no character is remotely funny, so that’s what makes them funny? How is it that Hess uses the same niche he used for this on “Nacho Libre” and that was hacked to shreds, while this remains untouched?

Might want to take a second look there, geniuses. Hess used the same brand of comedy. So either Dynamite sucks ass and Libre was too good to understand or both films suck, just in different wave lengths. I’ll go for the second choice. I enjoy films that boast characters who are proud to be nerdy and don’t take too much shame in it, and if “Napoleon Dynamite” were actually worth watching, I’d say it was a well done testament on that philosophy.

It’s funny because MTV says so, or its funny because its so unfunny you must not get the jokes, therefore it’s funny, or–I gather–there are others whom are only laughing at “Napoleon Dynamite” because they don’t want to look like they don’t get the joke, much like Joey in “Friends”. With these odd successful comedies people are often too afraid to say they don’t like it because then they’re told that they just don’t get it. Problem is that I understood what “Napoleon Dynamite” was striving for. It just wasn’t funny. It was stupid.

And I’ve never had an intelligent argument concerning this movie. It’s always “Wasn’t it funny when (insert scene here)?” almost as if people are hoping that if they keep repeating the scenes and describing them to me, eventually it will be like striking oil and a burst of laughter will come from me.

“You know, I didn’t think it was hilarious the first time, but now that you’ve described it to me ten times, I’m starting to see your point!”

Fat chance.

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*Advance Warning: Sorry this entry is so long. I’ll make sure this never happens again.*

I guess Fridays are quickly becoming a sort of “Getting to Know Michael Ferraro” day in the blog. The following story is yet another true account of my life that I’d love to forget but will probably never afford to be able to. It begins in 1999, when I entered film school. It was one of those quick jobs where you’d get done in a year but you’d be able to use all of this sweet equipment.

Back then, my goals consisted of writing and directing, like every other kid in film school these days. In the middle of that year, I quickly realized that this might not be the direction I want to take after all. But by then it was too late - I was already into the school for the full price of tuition. So I decided to ride it out and got my degree. In August of 2000, I got my first internship.

Let me digress for a second. Would you like to know the dumbest thing ever invented by a human being? The so-called “internship” job title in the entertainment industry. They say it teaches you life skills but getting some sweaty director a coffee is hardly a life skill. Sweeping an empty sound stage is hardly a life skill. It’s work, and one should be paid for work, especially when one considers how much the production costs. Internships should be abolished from the Earth and the industry. Get your own coffee.

So I got this internship cutting together this pointless high school football show that aired on an NBC affiliate on Saturday mornings. I cut together the entire show, it aired on television how I put it together, my name was in the credits as “assistant editor” yet, I assisted only myself. And I got no paycheck for that barrel of fun. That job lasted 6 months. After that, I did what I call an “internship tour.” You name it, I probably did it. I cleaned toilets one time for this crappy production house, for free, just so I could slap it on my resume. Life experiences my asshole. Cleaning toilets never taught me a thing about holding a boom mic or cutting footy together.

I did this for a few more months before I got my shit together to make a short film. The title of it was Head. It wasn’t a porno, instead, it was a tragic story about an alcoholic who fell in love with a doll head. Then, a mentally challenged neighbor comes over, falls in love with the head too, and steals it. Hey, I never said I was a great writer. Nevertheless, shooting this simple-minded romance was disastrous. I actually shot it twice. The first time, I actually became quite drunk (as I was playing the alcoholic character as if he were real). My photographer wasn’t that great either. The next time, which was the very next day, my friend became my photographer and it was shot without a fluke. Sadly, the story was worse on screen than it was on paper, so it never saw the light of day, outside of a pretty humorous trailer I cut together for it, using Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide.

For the next year, I worked on other people’s short films as a script supervisor, boom op, director of photography, assistant director, you name it and I probably did it. In 2001, I decided to something on my own for real. I wanted to make something worth sending around and I also wanted to dabble in the world of documentary.

In 1994, I met someone who would become one of my best friends. We were practically brothers in eighth grade. When we were high school though, he fell into some hard times. He dropped out of ninth grade, drank heavily, took pills, drank cough syrup like no one’s business, and finally, made his way into smoking crack. The first time I ever saw anyone over dose, was when I was fifteen. It was my good friend - he drank a six-pack of beer and took an entire box of PM flu pills. He was only fifteen.

Later in 2001, I decided to catch up with my friend. He didn’t smoke crack anymore, but he did tell me that, “smoking crack is the best 15 minutes of your life.” How could I not make something about him. In February of 2001, I decided to get serious about it. I would go to his house, document his life one weekend every month, for an entire year. I even had a title - Come and Get It.

I found a cameraman too. I tried to tell him every story I possibly could about my friend but when you don’t actually witness something for yourself, everything sounds exaggerated.

We arrived on a Friday night, in March of 2001, for the first of twelve shoots. As soon as my car pulled into his driveway, he stumbled out of his front door with a backpack full of beer, already wasted, and said, “Dude… let’s go, you got to take me to this place.” We ended up at a party and the lighting was awful. I couldn’t hook up my production lights because not everyone there was down with the idea of being in a documentary. But my fellow cameraman and I shot anyway. The footy looked terrible but it worked anyway.

We got back to his house six or seven hours later. He was anxious to show his artwork (that was to be another angle of the film). We stayed up all night. He drank all night and took sleeping pills the entire time, but he still never fell asleep. My cameraman started to get a touch weary, so I told him to go to sleep for a few hours while I stayed up with my friend.

The next day was awful. A fight with his girlfriend exploded in front of our eyes and I almost lost a camera. My friend was up for over 40 hours, drinking the entire time, and it was starting to take a toll on him. Sunday we packed up the car and took off. On the way home, my friend tells me, “I don’t think I could do that again.” Who could blame him? I didn’t want to either. But I had to.

In April of 2001, I called my friend to set up the next weekend. His mother answers the phone. “Hey Mike, he moved to Memphis.” Memphis? What the hell is he doing in Memphis? Apparently he grew frustrated with that crappy little Florida town where I grew up and packed his bags and moved.

Come and Get It officially stopped production and I was sad, frustrated, angry and depressed. It was the umpteenth film I attempted to make on my own only to have it crumble before my very eyes. I felt like Joe Hallenbeck looking in the mirror, saying to myself, “Nobody like you. Everybody hates you. You’re gonna lose. Smile you fuck.”

I sold my camera, my editing gear, everything. I wanted no part of it. I did, however, continue to work on other people’s project before finally calling it quits for good in 2002, after being a cinematographer on a short film. That was the last thing I ever did, aside from a school project I was forced to do for a production class this past November but even that had its problems.

Some people just aren’t meant to direct or write or even be involved in such industry. I am one of those people. It used to make me real sad but I’m over it now, all these years later. I can’t even imagine what my cinematic contributions would have been like or if they would have mattered to anyone outside of myself.

I did you guys a favor. Instead of being subjected to my wretched filmmaking skills, you are instead exposed to my writing and illustrating abilities. I guess I saved myself some amount of degradation too.

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If you haven’t heard by now, the director that everyone has heard of even though they don’t know who Fassbinder is (do your homework kids), Quentin Tarantino, has signed Kurt Russell to play a slasher in his half of Grindhouse. The film is going to be two separate films - one directed by Tarantino and the other by Robert Rodriguez. Also included with the film are fake movie trailers directed by Eli Roth of Hostel fame. Well, I guess somebody out there likes his work.

Tarantino has made a career reviving old time actors who were once great but somehow turned their own careers into garbage. With Pulp Fiction, he raised John Travolta back from the dead (only to have him once again kill himself with films like Basic and Battlefield Earth). Jackie Brown saw the resurrection of both Pam Grier and Robert Forster, though we haven’t seen too much of him either these days.

I’ve been excited about this film for a while. Two directors I am a fan of teaming up to make one dirty film like it’s the 70s. And with the summer I’ve had, I look forward to it even more.

Then he announces that Kurt Russell has just signed on to be the killer in his film (I didn’t spoil it for you, Tarantino did). I can see it now, Snake running around with a knife or something, stabbing girls and guys in the throat or something.

If you’ve been keeping up on my blog entries, you know how much of a Kurt Russell fan I am. Even when he does a movie like Dreamer, his performances are always top-notch. And he seems like the kind of guy who doesn’t really give a shit about acting should the sad day come when the offers stop.

Oh, and this guy knows how to live life to. He has been with Goldie Hawn since forever. And they never got married. And they are happy. I never understood why people actually get married but apparently Russell doesn’t either (though I do think he has been divorced before). He knows how stupid marriage is and so does Goldie. You people so eager to “get married” can learn a thing or two from these people.

One of my favorite films in the entire world is John Carpenter’s The Thing. It’s the best remake I’ve ever seen and a film that continues to stand the test of time. It’s a visually haunting, magnificently scored, wonderfully paranoid work of art. Every time I watch it, I can’t help but get sucked into the story and root for various characters, even though I already know what is going to happen to them.

And lest we forget Big Trouble in Little China. I wrote a blog on that already so I’ll skip the theatrics. All I’m going to say is that why has there been no sequel to this. We can get another Clerks but not another Jack Burton adventure? There clearly isn’t any justice in this world.

Now Tarantino will show off his skill. Will there be a revival of Kurt Russell flicks (outside of the family genre of course)? I do hope so. I am real sad that Tarantino never got a chance to work with Charles Bronson but I smiled at the end of the Kill Bill films when he gave Bronson a dedication. I think Bronson would have worked well in Tarantino’s world and it’s a shame we’ll never know.

At least we’ll know about Kurt Russell.

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No, when people ask me what I am, I don’t like movie buff, I don’t like movie fan, because a fan is both complacent and hard to please, a fan is both dumb and too smart to enjoy what they enjoy, a fan will not notice when they’re being taken, yet they refuse to allow changes in anything they love.

Movie fans, movie fans are the worst. I’m talking about many movie fans, particularly the young ones.

One day at my family’s house, I was basically visiting the home of someone I dislike even if she is my family, and I found myself talking to a relative I haven’t talked to in years. It was a holiday and since my mom wasn’t cooking her famous feast that year, I was forced to go elsewhere.

So, we’re catching up, and we’re talking, and we’re laughing, and I’m anxiously trying to think of something to talk about but I’m a boring guy, so my fail safe for any topic is “Seen any good movies lately?” Hey, I dont like sports, I don’t like reality shows, and I’m not a music fan, so that’s all I have. It’s either that, or I’m there making random noises.

Most times the person responds, and the conversation is off, and sometimes they’ll say “No”, and I’m sitting there nodding my head like cenile grandpa at a family reunion. He has no idea where he is, but he knows he doesn’t want to be there.

So, anyway, talking to this person, we begin talking about movies, or “films” as I say, only because I’m a pretentious asshole cineaste. Yes, I labeled myself. Anyway, while we’re talking, he says passively “I probably know more about movies than you do.”

Right there is something you shouldn’t tell me. Even if it’s true. If you ever meet me, you should know not to tell me that because I hate to be made to look inferior and that’s a declaration of war on my part. So, this piss head tells me that half-jokingly, and I sit up and in my mind I’m thinking “Okay, you wanna go bitch?”

So, I say “Oh really?” And he nods with a cocky smile that says “I’m just kidding, but I really mean it”. So I reply with:

“Okay, do you know Hitchcock?”
“Yep.”
Some soft pitches just to get the game going.
“Do you know Tarantino.”
“Yes, I LOVE him!”
“Do you know Allen?”
“A-Allen? Never seen a movie from him.”
I flash a condescending furrowed brow.
“Do you know Kurosawa?”

He looks off to his mom who’s standing there possibly thinking “Oh fuck.” So he nods with a smile, and I say:

“You’ve never seen Rashomon or Seven Samurai? Those are masterpieces!”
“No,” he replies blankly.
“What about Fellini? Zefferelli? Truffaut? Robert Wise?”

His face was a mixture of both surprise, and cluelessness that I’ll never forget. And when I get wound up I’m like Denis Leary on caffeine, I talk fast, and I don’t let you get a word in, and this piss head couldn’t name one damn movie from any of these directors.

Let me tell you something, if you’re from the age of 14-18, and you think you’re a movie buff, think again. Sure, you have “Mallrats”, “Devil’s Rejects”, “Hostel”, and “Fight Club”, and you possibly talk a big game, but don’t ever come up to someone who is older than you and tell them that you know more about films than we do.

Because while you think you have an “edgy” and “hip” set of films there, unless you’ve actually seen art, unless you’ve actually watched a film from Kurosawa, or Woody Allen, I don’t think you can call yourself a film buff, you’re just a movie fan. As Mike said in an earlier entry, you can quote all the lines from every Tarantino film, but how about quoting some lines from a film like “The Bicycle Thief”, or “Stalag 17″?

If you’ve ever said:
“I don’t like black and white movies.”
“I don’t like old movies.”
“What’s Annie Hall?”
“I don’t like subtitles, I don’t like to read during a movie.”

Well then, sad to say, you have no idea what a film buff is. So, put away your “subversive” collection for a while and sit down to watch a movie like “Seven Samurai” or “Winter Soldier”, or “Modern Times” and really learn what film is about. Or better yet, do what I’ve done during my tenure at Film Threat, go up to an actual film buff and ask them to show you what they think great films are, and you’re going to see that there’s a world out there beyond catchy one-liners, and idiots hanging out at malls.

You’re the type of “film buff” I hate, the kind that annoints yourself with a title of knowing everything about horror, or science fiction, when you refuse to watch the classics because they’re “old” and “black and white”, the kind that hangs out at websites, and video stores and really lays it on thick, but when pressed with a person who really knows their material, you brush them off as a “film geek” or as someone trying to be superior to you.

To me, a film buff is not a person who loves movies, a film buff is someone who is open to all movies. We’re out there discovering experimental, and art films, we’re open-minded and willing to learn from one another, and we’re mature enough to know that though we may not like this one film, we understand it has a significance.

So, when I was done beating this piss head to a pulp, I simply said “Well, when you see those movies, then maybe you can tell me that”, and I stood up and left the room. I said it with a smile that told him: “I’m just kidding, but I really really mean it.”

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A lot of you must know by now that this summer has been pretty excruciating for me. I’ve had some difficulties outside the cinema lately, but in the cinema, the problems seem to be a lot worse. I think I may be the only one however, as countless people have told me that Clerks II has more “heart” than a Children’s Hospital, who thinks this summer has been a complete waste (outside of Over the Hedge). So I’ve been finding myself searching in the past at things that used to make me smile when I was younger (and hasn’t been raped by a terrible sequel years later).

You can’t forget 1985. Arnold Schwarzenegger blew up the screen with director Mark L. Lester in Commando. This is a film we can all relate to. Every one of us. You see, Schwarzenegger plays John Matrix, an ex-elite special ops type guy, living up the sweet life in the middle of the woods with his daughter, played by the young Alyssa Milano. When a member of his old crew kidnaps her, he is forced to fly to some country in order to assassinate some leader. If and when this mission is accomplished, John can go back to sharing ice cream cones with his daughter in the woods.

But like you and I, when someone takes Alyssa Milano, you fight back.

Matrix: Don’t disturb my friend, he’s dead tired. (A classic one-liner tossed out by Schwarzenegger after he breaks a dude’s neck on an airplane.)

Matrix jumps off the plane and makes his way around, collecting guns and kidnapping stewardesses, and plans the ultimate rescue. After a series of mishaps, he finally makes his way to the base of his daughters captures and, as the Misfits once sang, all hell breaks loose.

The last 20 or so minutes of this film are insane. I mean, imagine Alyssa Milano lives in your household. Whether she is your daughter or your girlfriend, you’d probably do all you could to save her when a group of renegade militants comes and takes her away. If she were my girlfriend, I’d blow up a small country to, just as Schwarnegger does. When I was younger, I put myself in this position. I was Milano’s boyfriend and Bennett and his group of assholes took her away from me. I’d play out the events of that film in my own head but I’d replace Schwarzenegger with myself. Imagine Commando starring me instead, as a 7 year-old kid saving the day. That’s the movie that played continually in my mind back in the mid-to-late 80s.

Imagine me saving Alyssa Milano. Waltzing in to some evildoer’s lair, blowing up everything in sight. Throwing a large pipe into a man’s chest, then telling him to, “let out some steam.” What happen to films like this?

I wrote an angry blog about AMC (the “American Movie Classics” channel) for their lack of showing actual classics a few months ago. But this past Sunday, they showed Commando proudly, and they keep showing it non-stop.

Now, who am I going to have to punch in the face to get them to stop showing Milk Money?

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I remember when comedies were funny.

My parents came home one night with a film they’d purchased at “Tower Records” in Manhattan. It was something called “Young Frankenstein”. I remember when they popped in the tape, and I sat there staring puzzled through it all. It wasn’t horror as I’d originally thought, this was a comedy, and it was black and white, yet these people were never goofy. Every gag was sharp, lethal, and played with dramatic deadpan.

I just sat there thinking: “What is going on?”

Granted, I was only about ten and I didn’t understand the Brooks comedy at the time. The next morning, I popped in the tape again and I realized that this was a really good comedy. And I laughed so hard through it all. My favorite scene has to be when Frederick is attempting to talk to Frankenstein and warns his crew “Whatever you do, do not let me out. If I scream, if I beg, do not let me out.” And you know what happens next. It’s a scene that continues to leave me in tears.

I’m turning twenty-three on August 26th, and I’m still quoting films like “Young Frankenstein”, “Airplane!”, and “Horse Feathers” to my friends. And I thank my mom and my uncle for that. Two of the biggest movie buffs I’ve ever known.

When I was fourteen, my uncle Freddy sat me down to introduce me to the Marx Brothers. My gateway film was “Horse Feathers” a film that was too funny to watch all at once. Groucho gave every reply with a sharp comeback, Harpo was a wiz with props, Chico mispronounced every single word, and the musical numbers were Gonzo, and I loved it.

And I grew to love comedy in many forms and, of course, I love the old time comedies. The Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy, Jerry Lewis, Rowen and Martin, Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Monty Python. And then there are the pure gold: Animal House, Blazing Saddles, Kentucky Fried Movie, Airplane, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, This is Spinal Tap, etc.

I’d take “Who’s Minding the Store?” over “Grandma’s Boys” any day of the week.

Give me “Animal House”, you can take your “Napoleon Dynamite”.

And let’s not forget The Marx Brothers. Hands down my favorite comedy team of all time.

There’s just no beating Groucho Marx in a battle of wits.

Of course, you’ll say that a good comedy is really only subjective, but then I’d have to kick you in the teeth for being such a stupid ass.

Modern comedy really sucks. And I know it’s not the most elegant way to write it, but it’s very true. Modern comedies really suck. The only comedies we ever see are romance comedies, and I am tired of them. And the ones that aren’t are simply soft ball.

I recall when “Kicking and Screaming” was being explained as utterly hilarious.

And then I sat through it and all I could see was an SNL member struggling to keep his career alive and trying really hard to make the audience laugh.

And then there’s “Dirty Love”. Motherfucking “Dirty Love”. Have you seen this yet?

I know many movie fans criticized the Razzie organization for proclaiming “Dirty Love” as the worst movie of 2005, yet not many saw it, so how can you brand it the worst?

Well, I see their point now. “Dirty Love” is, without the doubt, unequivocally, the worst comedy of all time. Scratch that, the worst comedy I’ve ever seen. I’d gladly sit through “White Chicks” yet again if it meant not having to watch “Dirty Love” again.

After sitting through half of that garbage, I realized McCarthy has no dignity. She’s almost like that actress who will do anything to get by, so she stars in porn. Granted, she’s never been in a porn, but you get my point. McCarthy did look damn good a few years ago.

I remembered her appearing as a mechanic in “Home Improvement” and dear god was she ever good looking. I remember thinking how great she looked when she was being straight faced. And then I saw “Dirty Love” and now I can’t even fathom taking a second glance at her.

“Dirty Love”, if you can sit through most of it, is a surefire car wreck, one that I really couldn’t finish. I got about thirty minutes into it and I had to shut it off and pray that this wasn’t all comedies had to offer the American public. One-liners were fell like bricks, the acting was painful and the gags was just as unfunny as can be.

And then, there’s “Little Man”. In my review, I took into consideration advice that Rory Aronsky gave me one day explaining that I shouldn’t show the readers my cards in the review. Show them you have a pulse, but never let them get a full grasp of your emotions. After watching “Little Man” it took everything in me to keep from writing five paragraphs of pure unadulterated swearing and damning on the Wayanses.

If you knew me personally, you know what I’m talking about. This movie is pure unfunny filth, and worst of all, it’s made its money back, which means the Wayanses have more in store for us. This is why we need movie critics. In spite of what everyone believes, people do listen to movie critics. You dont know how many times people claim not to listen to movie critics, yet still feel angered enough to write about how one critic in particular angered them.

The world will always need film critics as long as “Benchwarmers” and “Little Man” continue plodding into theaters.

Fact is, comedy is a dying artform, comedy is an artform that is the toughest to master, and the hardest to conquest, and it’s dying, thanks to idiots like the Wayanses, and McCarthy, and Sandler who have no idea how to deliver a remotely decent comedy. They’ll do anything to make us laugh, even if it means creating an incredibly obscene cartoon, a really bad indie comedy, or featuring two black guys dressing up as white heiresses.

I refuse to believe “Little Man” made money because of genuine interest, I stick with my theory that morbid curiosity and general stupidity attributed to its mild success. People are so easily willing to part with their money these days. Same goes for “The Benchwarmers” and “Pink Panther”. Did anyone actually find these movies funny? Does anyone care about old time comedy anymore? Does anyone care that someone was Clouseau before Martin, and that someone was a man named Peter Sellers who was a pure comic genius and mastered the Clouseau character miles beyond Martin?

No one cares anymore. We’ve been injected into a state of apathy where we not only forget our history, but also lose respect for it. There have only been a few modern comedies to arrive that have really brought hope that there’s a glimmer of optimism for the genre, but if films like “Little Man” are any indication, the genre is dead and buried.

And the question I ask myself is does anyone remember laughter?

When all is said and done, many of these modern comedies really just leave me straight-faced. Comedy has gone the way of the dodo, and what you see now is really only a dim shadow.

Many thanks to Michael Ferrarro for contributing his ever famous art.

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There are probably four or five individuals out there who weren’t utterly appalled by M. Night Shyamalan’s last film, The Village, who are excited about the release of his newest film, Lady and the Water. Those who absolutely loathed the previous film will have no problem hating this movie too, though, it isn’t as horrible (kinda).

With this new film, however, M. Night involves himself in one of the worst crimes in cinematic history - the stereotyping of a certain ethnic group. We crackers have been doing it for a long time. Watch the westerns of the old days, when “enjuns” (Native Americans) flopped about, hooting and hollering crazy things, with feathers in their head, and so on. Surely this wasn’t the life of a Native American in the Wild West but it’s how we whiteys portrayed them.

Another one that is pretty common is the Asian stereotype. Two of the characters in Lady and the Water happen to be a mother-daughter pair of Koreans Americans (I think, as a friend and I had to search the internet for a possible answer). As I discussed this issue with fellow Film Threat scribe, Stina Chyn, she called what I had described to her of this family, “FOBs”. Fresh of the Boat immigrants. The mother in the film spoke Korean and Korean only (again, I could be wrong, as the film never specifies or it did so when I attempting suicide). The daughter, a so-called college student, spoke English with a horrifically white-sounding Asian accent. She would do typical things that the average white first-grader would mimic from cartoons.

Sayings like, “Young-Soon (her character name) work real hard in school.” People were laughing at the screening almost every time she appeared on screen. Was it supposed to be funny? If it was, only the whiteys in the audience were laughing.

Um, living in the city I do, I know plenty of FOBs and they never, never, refer to themselves in the third person. M. Night himself is an FOB, as he was indeed born in India (according to the IMDB). Does he wander about saying crap like, “M. Night make a movie with a real good ending. M. Night will make a movie about the 1800s but it will really be present day. M. Night will fool the world!”

Another thing crackers usually do when it comes to making fun of Asian immigrants is by having them use “R” sounds a lot. Ever see Christmas Story? “Fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra ra.” M. Night stayed away from this one thankfully.

I watched this film with one of my friends who happens to be half Chinese, half Vietmanese. Every time this character came on screen, she squirmed in her seat. She asked me at one point, “Shouldn’t he know better?” I agreed.

Even though, there is nothing I can do about it. Congratulations M. Night, you just brought us back a few decades. Hope it feels good. I bet he wouldn’t smile if some white filmmaker directed a film about his life, casting that white dude who made fun of Kumar (remember that guy who said, “thank you, come again” in full Indian accent?) as M. Night.

Actually, I’d give my life to see that movie.

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The other night, I went to see an early screening of The Lady in the Water, the new nightmare written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan (more about this in tomorrow’s blog entry), and I brought with me a friend of mine. I had no expectations walking in but as a critic of sorts, I always put my biases aside.

That didn’t help this time. It was not-so-good. I mean, it wasn’t The Village (it’s hard to be that bad, unless you’re George Lucas) but it wasn’t The Sixth Sense either. Regardless, when I walked out of the theater, I looked over to my friend and said, “Unholy Hell. What the fuck did we just watch? Who thought it was a good idea to make this movie?” She said, “I knew you wouldn’t like it… but I didn’t like it either.”

In fact, I can’t name one movie I really liked this summer. Superman Returns was a disappointment, as was X-3. The new Pirate movie was completely unnecessary. The Da Vinci Code burned my eyelids. Clerks II destroyed everything that made my youth so much fun, and I walked out of Nacho Libre, which is something I haven’t done in five years. And Click made we want to kill Adam Sandler. Mission: Impossible III was impossible to enjoy.

Is it just me or has this been the worst summer in cinematic history?

Apparently, I am the only one. Many have liked (even loved) some of these films I’ve discussed above. I’m sure I’ll probably be on my own about the misfire that is Clerks II, just like I was about Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. I guess people don’t miss the time when Kevin Smith had interesting ideas and fresh (sort of) philosophies. Is there something wrong with me? It occurred to me the other day that I have finally become “that guy” who hates every movie ever. People at work finally stopped asking about movies I saw because I think they think they already know what the answer will be. My friends always give me a look after a movie ends, like, “What’s this guy going to say about this one…”

Someone said to me the other day, after Clerks, that, “you walked into that movie hating it.” No I didn’t. I never do that.

I’ve only been doing reviewing films for a few years now, for various publications, and I am already to that point where I dread going to screenings. I don’t even go to the movies that much anymore outside of press screenings. I know some critics who don’t have lives because all they care about is when the next press screening is. It’s a scary world we live in when you let it consume you like that.

And the sad part is, is that I used to love every movie I saw, just because I was sitting in a dark room watching a giant screen. I wish I was still like that, you know, like Harry Knowles or something, a dude who loves every movie ever, no matter how bad they are (read his review for Lady in the Water for instance). That dude seriously loves every movie. And he doesn’t just love them, he practically wants to make out with them from start to finish.

Michel Est Mort (Michel is Dead) by Stina Chyn.

It’s hard to imagine what else I would be good at in this lifetime (if you even consider my writing talents in the realm of criticism ‘good’). I don’t want to be a teacher - my vocabulary is too violent for little ears. I don’t care about helping people either. I can’t jump into the art world either, my skill isn’t worth any kind of coin outside of the money I find on the ground outside of the McDonald’s near my apartment. Working retail isn’t my thing either, anymore.

Who am I kidding. I can’t say I have any kind of skill in any other arena. Maybe I am supposed to be this guy, the only guy on the planet who thinks Episode I is better than Episode II, or the only guy on the planet who watched Spider-Man with his eyes open to discover how much that movie sucked.

At least I don’t like Alien Vs. Predator.

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I’ve watched porn, I’ve done the dirty, and I’m aware of terms like S&M, Scat, and BBW, but sometimes your brain just doesn’t work well enough to notice the obvious.

One Monday morning after forty minutes at the post office picking up a package, I trudged back home and plopped down for my ritual e-mail last minute check before I went off to sleep.

Upon checking my e-mail I found:
“For Review: Twink College Break”

My instant thought was: “Cool, some director made a “National Lampoon” type of comedy, it could be great.”

Don’t pity me, damn you, I have no idea what a twink means. I didn’t know what it meant until it was too late. Hey, I’m not gay, I love the rug, not fond of the pole. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

So, I saw the subject and clicked into the e-mail and read about two college guys who take a break off from college and get into all sorts of sexual escapades with other college students, and here, again, I’m thinking how funny this could be, or, worst case scenario, how funny the directors could attempt to make it.

And then I clicked the URL.

The poster featured nothing but clean cut guys in school suits, and the alarms went off immediately, and upon viewing the stills below (pun not intended) I realized, with much wide-eyed horror, and a gaping mouth (pun not intended), that creators of a full fledged gay porn had asked me to review their–uh–porn.

Suffice it to say, I quickly exited the site (pun not intended) and deleted the damn e-mail before I started feeling dirty… not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you, but I’m attempting to be a professional film critic, and last I checked, gay porn won’t get me quoted.

I mean, it will, but I wouldn’t want my grandparents to read:

TWINKS COLLEGE BREAK
“It sucked and blew!”
- Felix Vasquez Jr.

So, yes, you can see my predicament.

So, subsequent to that experience, and a quick glance at Isabella Soprano to snap me out of it, my instant impulse was to include in the guidelines:

“We do not review porn.”

But then, I stopped and realized that many people have many definitions of the word “porn”. To some, “Basic Instinct 2″ is pornography, and to some Jenna Jameson getting plugged is porn. Roger Ebert, in his review of “Underworld”, compared it to pornography. Regardless, every film has a label, and including “we do not review porn” would open me up for many questions, and queries, and put off many filmmakers. Someone with their own definition of porn would think “My film has a graphic sex scene… damn!” and move on. And I don’t want that.

Hell, to some “Amateur Porn Star Killer” could be thought of as porn mainly because it has “porn” in the title, and features graphic sexual sequences however detrimental to the plot they may be. Boy is Shane Ryan going to be mad to read that line.

Fact is, regardless of how good a film like APSK may be, to some viewers the fact that a film revolves around the theme of sex, and features a title hinting at sex, would automatically cause them to label it as porn even if they didn’t see it. Putting “We do not review porn” would have quickly put off many young filmmakers from sending over their risqué films, particularly the folks from Alter Ego. And what a loss that would have been.

So, I left out the little guideline, and decided to make it interesting. I never reviewed “Twink College Break” if you haven’t caught on by now. Who knows what I’ll receive in my inbox again asking me to review “Farmer Sluts Part 4″, or “Candy Striping Naughty nurses 6: The Reckoning”, but either way, I’ll just delete it and wait for the next great filmmaker.

Or an actual good porno movie to review.

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Hey gang-

Okay, the most amazing geek event of the year is finally upon us — the San Diego Comic Con July 20th-23rd! It’s not just comics, it’s everything pop culture including comic books, videogames, cartoons, art, TV, and especially movies. I’ve been attending for over ten years now, and it’s difficult to describe to anyone who’s ever been — it’s 100,000 like-minded nerds, geeks, fans and creators coming together in the colossal convention center and celebrate all that media junkies like myself worship. Best of all, fans can connect directly with artists and creators to interact and share ideas.

And I’ll be there to enjoy it all! Where can you find me? Easy, here’s my schedule to make your stalking plans easier:

- Film Threat booth #C6 - Look for me at the booth which is in the hall closest to the Marriott located somewhere in the back. Come by just to say, “Hi,” and check out our indie DVDs along with our new line of kick ass movie-related T-Shirts that are incredible.

- Film Threat and Suicide Girls in a tree… K-I-S-S-I-N-G - Okay, this year we’re sharing a booth with the Suicide Girls. Sure, FT is fringe culture film and SG is fringe culture nakedness and, well, we like each other. So, c’mon by and chat with a live girl — just be polite and buy something.

- Friday, July 21st, 5 PM - 6 PM - Indie Film’s Final Frontier Panel - Join me and other independent film folks for what is sure to be a lively panel on the future of filmmaking.

- Events at the FT Booth - In addition to meeting the filmmakers’ behind our DVDs, you’ll be able to meet Christy Marie, the covergirl for our Starwoids DVD. I mean, I defy you to even utter the words “Slave Leia Bikini” and not get excited!

- Film Threat Party - Well, it’s going to be at a small underground club in the gaslamp called “The Naked Faerie.” And unless you’re on the list… well, you’re not getting in. Sorry folks, it’s a small place and I can’t afford to get arrested at another party, much less, my own.

- Comic-Con International Independent Film Festival - This year I served on the jury for the festival (along with Amber Benson and Thomas J. McLean) and saw some amazing films. So, come by the awards ceremony on Sunday, July 23rd at 11:30 AM - 12:15 PM to get a look at some incredible genre work from around the world. Here’s a link to the complete film festival schedule.

I have so many memories from previous cons — hanging with Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes at the Mallrats party, meeting Stan Lee, that time I was drinking at that one party and getting wildy romantic with a girl in a full Planet of the Apes costume — it’s an event not to be missed. I’ve included some photos below from Comic-Con’s past for you to enjoy, so check that out also. See you at the Con!

Gore gone!

Mmm… nice n’ bloody.

Latex repels all sorts of liquid… including nerd sweat.

This burlesque show at a local SD bar was a geek’s fantasy come true.

Kill me slowly please.

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