Turkey Month Turkey of the Week: "Battlefield Earth"

Have you ever paid money to see a movie that was just awful, but you refused to leave because you had already paid? For your Uncle P, that movie was 2000's Battlefield Earth, a stinker of epic proportions starring John Travolta in a screen adaptation of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard's Sci-Fi novel.

Travolta plays Terl, Security Chief of an alien race called the Psychlos, who in the year 3000 have enslaved mankind and are stripping the Earth of its natural resources (as if we aren't doing a good enough job of that, ourselves). The Psychlos are 8 feet tall, use breathing apparatus that look like snot running out their noses and wear dreds because they are apparently big Ziggy Marley fans. Barry Pepper (The Green Mile) is Jonnie, the only human left with any balls, who leads a revolution against the stupid alien overlords. Forest Whittaker (who really should have known better) is a Psychlo named Ker, looking like a mentally challenged Klingon. 

The dialog is ridiculous, the acting is only slightly better than that in a sixth grade Christmas pageant and the "Special Effects" are short-bus special, if you know what I mean. Produced by Travolta to honor his Loony Toons cult's founder and directed by Corey Mandell and J.D. Shapiro (who have 8 credits between them - Mandell never directed again), Battlefield Earth is the kind of movie you watch because you just can't believe it's as bad as your friends tell you it is. Even other Scientologists will tell you that Battlefield Earth stinks -- but only in private, lest their evil alien overlords drag them away for three years of "reconditioning." Check it out:

Travolta's peculiarly high-pitched voiced sounds particularly silly when coming out of that over-sized head.  This movie is so bad, I have literally blocked it's details from my memory. Happily, some one found a way to make it better (or at least tolerable):

Oh, dear. That was just as horrible, wasn't it? Sorry.

If you've never seen Battlefield Earth (and I honestly cannot recommend that you do so), but find yourself compelled to, make sure its the Rifftrax version (and you might want to watch it 4:20...):



More Turkeys, anon.
Prospero

George Takei Calls 'Em Like He Sees 'Em

That's actor George Takei ("Star Trek;" "Heroes") and his partner Brad Altman. George is one of those actors who doesn't take himself too seriously and is never afraid to make fun of himself. He's been on "The Simpson's" plenty of times and made some very amusing commercials. 

Now, while Uncle P was busy being silly about Horror movie directors last month, a very ugly event took place in Arkansas. It seems that the Vice-President of a local school board posted some very inflammatory and patently homophobic remarks on his Facebook page. In light of the recent attention given to bullying and teen-suicides, the remarks didn't sit very well with a bunch of people, least of all CNN hottie Anderson Cooper, who took the man (one Clint McCance) to task for being a bully himself, made all the worse by his being the School Board VP. After Cooper's blistering report, McCance gave him an exclusive interview in which he "apologized." I put that word in quotation marks because McCance apologized only for upsetting the parents of those who had committed suicide and for his choice of words. Not once did the falsely contrite little prick apologize for the sentiment behind those words. McCance, who was forced to move his family out of state due to death threats, has resigned from the Board, but not recanted his views.

Which leads me to dear George Takei, who saw through McCance's carefully orchestrated false apology and responded by adding his voice to Dan Savage's It Gets Better campaign. Below is Mr. Takei's It Gets Better message, my favorite, so far:

I am in the process of  trying to get the JTMF to add The Trevor Project to our beneficiaries, and hope to add our own video to the It Gets Better campaign. I'll let you know when and if we do. In the meantime, I'm so glad there are folks like Mr. Takei out there, unafraid to call a douchebag a douchebag.

If you or someone you know is considering suicide because of anti-gay bullying or because you fear your family members may reject you, PLEASE call the The Trevor Project 24/7 at 866-488-7986. Please know that you are loved and that your life is worth living. It really does get better.

Enough pontificating. I'll be back to my usual nonsense tomorrow with this November's first Turkey post.

More, anon.

Prospero

The Gayest Thing You'll See This Week

It's been quite a while since I've posted a "Gayest Thing" post, so I couldn't help myself when I saw the video below.

Regular readers know that my favorite "America's Got Talent" contestant this year (and probably of all of time) was runner-up Prince Poppycock (AKA the fabulously talented John Quale). Outrageous and over-the-top, Quale's vocal talents are formidable and his gorgeous voice rarely fails to send chills down my spine. He is the first ever contestant on any talent show whom I found worthy of voting for and while I never actually thought he'd win, viewers voted him through right to the end, which actually made me think that Middle America is finally ready to look past sexuality and see true talent for what it is. 

On Halloween, Prince Poppycock was made Honorary Mayor of West Hollywood (L.A.'s version of Greenwich Village) and was presented with a Key to the City. Damiana Garcia was there for an exclusive interview with His Honor, the Mayor (via):

Poppycock is currently on tour with the "America's Got Talent" finalists, though I am sure this is not the last we'll be hearing from this queer sensation.

More, anon.

Prospero

TV Review: "The Walking Dead."

So, last night I was among the estimated 5.3 million viewers who tuned into the premiere of AMC's newest original series "The Walking Dead." If you've been even a casual reader of this blog, you know Uncle P is major zombie fan and there was no way in hell that I was going to miss the premiere of Frank Darabont's adaptation of Robert Kirkman's graphic novel about the people who are trying to survive the Zombie Apocalypse.

Cable channel AMC started out as American Movie Classics, mainly airing films from Hollywood's past. Four years ago, they aired their first original program, "Mad Men," as series about an early 1960's advertising agency which made a star out of John Hamm and which has consistently won the Emmy for Best Drama since. After "Mad Men," they introduced "Breaking Bad," about a high school science teacher (Bryan Cranston) who, after being diagnosed with terminal cancer, turns to making methamphetamine so his family will have money to live on after he dies. Cranston has since won the Emmy for Best Actor in a Drama three years running. It comes as no surprise that their latest series is just as good.

IN the 90 minute premiere episode "Days Gone Bye," we are introduced to rural Georgia Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes (British actor Andrew Lincoln), who is apparently in the midst of marital problems. His partner Shane ("Eastwick" hottie Jon Bernthal) is a bit of a neanderthal when it comes to women, though it seems they can confide in one another, if no one else. Rick is critically injured during a shoot-out with a trio of desperadoes and awakes after a month-long coma to find the world as he knew it no longer exists.In a world filled with flesh-eating zombies, Rick is determined to reunite with his wife and son, who may or may not have survived the zombie uprising.

The imagery in Darabont's version of Kirkman's story is nothing short of amazing. The scene where Rick is staggering down the hospital hallway only to find a chained door marked "Do Not Open Dead Inside" is simply and beautifully chilling. As he makes his way home, Rick stumbles upon a half-torsoed zombie who is both horrific and pathetic, wisely setting the tone for this story of survival and despair. Rick soon (though not happily) finds himself in the care of Morgan his son Duane, who lost their wife/mother to the zombie virus. The scene where Rick watches Morgan's wife try to gain entry to the house in which they've holed holed up through a peep-hole was among the creepiest I've eve seen.

Darabont and company seem to have managed the perfect the balance between Horror and Humanity as I can remember and while there were plenty of graphic gross-outs, "The Walking Dead" also offered up plenty of scenes of human drama, making character the focus, rather than gore and effects (though there were plenty of both). And I haven't even gotten around to talking about Rick's wife ("Prison Break" doctor Sarah Wayne Callies) and the affair she may or may not have been having with Shane before the outbreak. The performances here are excellent across the board, and the attention to detail, especially when depicting apocalyptic devastation, are exceptional.

Having read only a few issues of the graphic novel on which the series is based, I am very interested in seeing where the story will lead. Kirkman has said that he anticipates about 225 issues, which leaves plenty of material for AMC and Darabont to cover. If the rest of the series is as good as the premiere, I'll be watching for a very long time. **** (Four Out of Four Stars).

More, anon.
Prospero

Mini-Review: "Hereafter"

Taking my time getting back into movie-going mode, I finally got to see Clint Eastwood's latest, Hereafter with my usual suspects, K; Q and Dale.

Telling three stories that intersect at the end, Eastwood takes his time exploring a subject that for many (myself, included - though more on that in a bit*) is often suspect.

French power journalist Marie LeLay (High Tension's Cecille de France) is on a tropical vacation with her lover/producer, when she is swept up in a tsunami where she drowns and is revived, but not before experiencing a vision of what she believes is the afterlife. She is soon consumed by the vision, to the point where she can no longer concentrate on the political controversies that made her a star. Meanwhile, Matt Damon is San Francisco based medium George Lonegan, who has given up doing readings because he feels that a life spent with the dead is no life at all, despite his brother Billy's (Jay Mohr sporting an exceptionally bad haircut) protestations. Finally, British twins Marcus and and Jason (Frankie & George Mclaren) live with their addict mum, trying to keep their family together, despite the best efforts of Human Services. When Jason is killed in a car accident while attempting to buy the drugs that might help Mum recover, Marcus becomes obsessed with finding a way to contact his brother.

Slow and studied, Eastwood's film concentrates on the human aspects of his tale, rather than exploiting the supernatural elements. The performances in Hereafter are exceptional, to say the least and Damon plays the role of the tortured psychic who views his talents as a curse, rather than a gift, with particular humanity. Bryce Dallas Howard (The Village; Spider-Man 3) is excellent as the gal who is sweet on George until he gives her a reading (despite his protestations) and appearances in smaller roles from Steve Schirrapa and Richard Kind are just icing on an already well-made cake.

While the film's denouement may be be a bit rushed (especially considering the rest of the film's easy pace) and pat, it still leaves audiences' with a sense of hopefulness and is ultimately quite uplifting. I'll admit to crying more than once or twice (the scene where Marcus loses his brother could rip the heart out of the coldest of bastards), though K found it the movie too long and slow.Personally, I found it beautifully written and filmed, wonderfully acted and paced almost exactly as it needed to be. ***1/2 (Three and a Half Out of Four Stars).

*As for the subject of the afterlife, while I remain skeptical, I have had an experience (or four) which make me take pause, one of which involves Q, who brought it up in our post-viewing discussion. Not long after Q's mother passed away, I had a dream in which Q's mother appeared to me with a very specific message for for Q. Of course, when I related that message, Q understood and immediately felt better. I've had similar dreams involving my paternal grandmother, my father and a much-loved uncle by marriage, all of which had meaning to me, but no one else. So, do these dreams have any real significance, or are they simply products of my own subconscious? I have no idea, though I do know the dream about Q's mother certainly meant something to her. I'd like to think (as do we all) that there is something beyond "this mortal coil," but given  the scientific evidence to date, must declare myself a skeptic.

I'll be back with my review of AMC's new series "The Walking Dead," much later this evening, though I'll give you a hint and tell you right now that I loved it.

More, anon.

Prospero

The Best Laid Plans...

Well, I suppose there are worse things than not getting to cover every director one wanted to talk about during "Shocktober." I've decided it just gives me time to talk about the rest, next year. 

My Halloween was rather uneventful, this year. I had very few Trick-or-Treaters and am left with a bowl of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups that I certainly don't need to eat. I'll freeze some and take some to the day job, I guess (revenge on all the folks who constantly bring goodies in for the rest of us to get fat on). 

I'll be back in the early morning hours to review both Hereafter and "The Walking Dead." For now, I'm off to catch up on all the email and stuff I neglected over the weekend.

By the way, today was Dear D's birthday. He'll get his gift from me tomorrow night at the first read-through for JTMF's staged radio production of It's a Wonderful Life, our first ever Winter benefit. More on that, very soon.

I hope your Halloween was fun and scary and delicious and everything you'd hoped it would be. November, of course, is Turkey Month, and I'll be taking a weekly look at bad movies every Thursday, right up until Turkey Day, itself. Until then, enjoy this:

More, anon.
Prospero

Dear Lord, I HATE the Internet!

Two hours worth of writing have been lost thanks to a bad link. I want to cry.

I will hopefully be able to post both my Wes Craven and John Carpenter pieces over the weekend.

Bear with me...

Prospero.