You Can't Slow Any Faster Than This...

FASTER is the movie everyone wanted to see The Rock in after he went marshmallows and took up some goofy roles that questioned his validity to give dirty looks and sport tattoos.

On the bad ass motherfucker scale, he doesn’t disappoint. He’s so tough that he hardly has any dialogue. I think he probably said a max of 50 words during the almost 2 hour movie. It’s nice when your anti-hero just shuts the fuck up and destroys everything in sight.

The jest of the story is that Mr. Rock, his brother and a couple others did a bank heist. Another crew found out about it, cornered them and things went all Costa Rican.

Mr. Rock’s brother went to bed with a slit throat and The Rock himself won a bullet to the head. Movie magic made it possible for that bullet to miss his brain and shoot out his cheek bone. Since Mr. Rock survived, he got a prison term for robbery.

Horary Justice.

Faster forward and he’s out of prison, violently hunting down everyone that had to do with his brother’s demise and the reason he’s forever setting off metal detectors, because of a big steel plate in his head.

This is all fun and games but it gets old faster than a priest can convince an alter boy that he should let God feel him up.

The film also stars former Angelina Jolie taste tester, Billy Bob Thorton. He plays a down and out detective assigned to the case. He’s not only battling an uphill struggle for capturing the Rock, but he’s also fighting a drug addiction problem, a bitchy ex-wife problem and a kid who’s battling obesity and losing problem.

Thorton has always been good at playing a low life loser so he twitches and stumbles through out the movie until the final scene that’s supposed to be a twist of M. Night Shamalam-a-ding- dong proportions. Which it’s not, but then again neither are M. Night movies anymore. No harm no foul.

There’s also some guy in the movie that’s really impressed with himself and likes to do yoga and kill people. So he chases The Rock around while having therapy sessions with his psychiatrist over the phone and tries to convince his girlfriend she should marry him so he has a wife to fuck over.

The movie tries to be deep and touch on the microcosms of the main characters personal lives as well as the self imprisonment of revenge and the serenity of surrendering, redemption and forgiveness.

But you know what? I can hear all that in church, and church is free. So when I let my girlfriend put down her hard earned money to pay for my movie experience I expect violence, action and narcissistic behavior. Not some kum by yah my lord Homily.

Faster started out great and then prematurely ejaculated leaving me with someone lying on the bed just wanting to talk. Yawn.

2 Donkey Punches out of 5.

Skyline Movie Review

SKYLINE is the epitome of a crap movie. It illustrates that yes, we’ve come to the end of the line here folks, it can’t get any worse. Sure, there’s a lot of eye candy. But just like real candy decays your teeth, this candy eats away at your mental capacity.

This flick rips off every movie in its genre and it burrows from Signs on two fronts. First the whole “water” concept and second, when you leave the movie you’ll be foaming at the mouth like Mel Gibson.

The basic rundown of the movie is as follows, and while I’m going to include the ending, it shouldn’t be referred to as a SPOILER so much as a WARNING about the movie’s outright ridiculousness.

Set in L.A., the story follows 4 young, hip industry people that are partying it up at a Marina Del Rey high rise. This part of the movie was the most believable because it shows what L.A. is best known for; The Douchebag Lifestyle.

The 4 malcontents pass out and wake up to a pretty blue light. The light is equivalent to an Angelfish’s bioluminescence which is used solely for the purpose of attracting it’s dinner. Thousands of Angelenos fall for the blue light special and get whisked away. Our 4 hero’s avoid the trap and decide to flee the city.

This doesn’t work out so well because there seems to be a merry band of interplanetary marauders terrorizing the city streets and contributing to horrible commute times. There’s giant monsters and evil octopus’s out sucking up old people, pissy people and the token black guy. No one is safe.

I’d say that judging by how bad the aliens fucked up the city and their disdain for it’s residents, they probably came here to vote for Meg Whitman, only they showed up about 8 days late.

ANYWAY…

The crew retreat’s back to the high rise and spend the next hour running around, hiding, screaming and blowing shit up while speaking in Spanish which I’m sure even our galactic invader’s were pissed to hear because they came to America to hear their victims scream in English god damn it.

Finally the body count is down to two. Boyfriend and girlfriend who is pregnant. Nothing is killing these invaders off, not even nukes, so they give in and go to the blue light in the sky.

Once in the ship, it’s clear that these E.T.’s are lousy housekeepers. The place is a mess and there’s corpses everywhere just like dust bunnies. Random humans get picked up and their brains are extracted and ran through a tube into the aliens hungry little mouths.

Now if the movie had any type of metaphorical merit, it was this scene. It reflected exactly what was happening to the audience, our brains were being sucked right the fuck out of our heads by way of a stupidity vacuum.

The boyfriend gets his brain sucked out but his is a Jedi brain and it overtakes one of the alien bodies enabling him to make an even bigger mess of the already trashed ship and caress his pregnant girlfriend with his alien claw.

And that’s where the movie (and my patience) abruptly ends.

If I had to conjecture on the story’s epilogue, I’d say that pregnant girlfriend and alien boyfriend went to go live in Johannesburg with that guy from District 9 since he has similar problems and they could probably be a good support unit for one another. And should you choose to see this movie, you’ll be needing a good support group afterwards as well.

0 Donkey Punches out of 5

A New Attitude

As most of you know I’ve been out of work for one day shy of a month. For those of you that are just now finding this out, well, we’re all caught up.

Most of my days are Bukowskian without all the sex with ugly chicks. I write and drink which is both bad and good depending on how drunk or sober one might be when judging the situation.

I haven’t bothered looking for work because I know nothings out there. But once in a while I still reply to the occasional want ad. Although I noticed that my reply is a lot different than in my younger days.

Back then I was adamant about trying to put my best foot forward and prove to a would be employer my absolute ductility and desirability in wanting to be another cow in a faceless herd only to end up the main course on some CEO’s dinner plate.

Things seem to be a bit different now. Below is the ad and my response.

Hi I'm looking for writers who are funny. Someone who can write quick short and hilarious material having to do with African American interest. I would love to meet as many writers as I can and read over some of your work. most of this content will be post on a celebrity blog that is very successful. -----meaning a lot of eyes on your work. Hey if your interested just reply to this email Attach a few pages of your work and I will be in contact. Office is located at the Hollywood Production Center so its local.

Here's my submission showing off my writing skills or lack thereof. It's a review of the movie Jennifer's Body and even though that has nothing to do with African Americans, in a way it does and this is why; Anything that has to do with white people and bad movies almost never involves African Americans. White people like to be terrible on their own accord if possible. It's true, just read your history book (preferably one that wasn't written by a white person...if you can find such a relic).

While I don't have a lot of dealings in African American culture, I did date a black woman for several months last year and I'm almost positive that she'll help me with any pitfalls I may experience along the way should you make the mistake of hiring me for the chump change you're probably paying for this gig.

Beings that I'm responding to this want ad late further solidifies that I'm a true writer because 1.) I have no sense of urgency. 2.) I just got internet at home and have spent the past 48 hours non stop on youporn & I've been drinking...heavily.

While this might be a red flag for you, I'd like to point out that my shrink told me that most writers spend their days being drunk, masturbating and procrastinating.

So even if you disagree with my self delusion that I'm a writer, you can't disagree with someone that not only has a degree, but also a lot of my money for telling me something my own mother went hoarse with rage from screaming at me during my entire adolescent years.

Anyway, I got off track, here's the review. No farm animals were hurt in the making of it, only shaved...

Paranormal Activity 2

When I saw the 1st Paranormal Activity it had it’s moments. But it wasn’t until after I got home and laid alone in my apartment that the movie really did it‘s magic. It’s creep effectiveness had to do with the things that happen around one when they are at their most vulnerable. Asleep, unaware and unprotected.

Suffice to say, I had trouble sleeping the next couple nights much akin to the way you’d probably have a hard time getting drunk around people you call “friends” after you see the Polaroid pictures of the last time you passed out in their company and they all put their cocks around your wide open mouth while you slept helpless on the floor.

So I wasn’t surprised at my apprehension the sequel’s effect may have on me.

Verdict: Yawn.

The director or editor did a great job in making the scenes organic and establishing characters, yet the whole “getting to know your cast” seemed so naturally done that I felt like I was watching mundane home videos of an anonymous boring family I couldn’t care less about.

With this new version there was also the use of simultaneous multiple camera views which at times bestowed upon me the unwanted role of feeling like I was a low paid security guard on watch detail during the graveyard shift in a gated community complex. When I left the theater I was looking for a time clock to punch my hours into.

The time it took to start the “paranormal activity” from a minor nuisance into a malevolent intruder was wearing. The intense moments either relied on something already done in the first movie (the female protagonist getting dragged around by an invisible specter or going into a “trance”). Or burrowed some M. Night tricks ( the cupboard scene from 6th sense or the baby walkie talkie scene from Signs).

Maybe the walkie talkie was picking up Alien transmissions that were stating this installment of the franchise was way disappointing even in a galaxy light years away.

Whatever the case may be, it was a bore but still left room for a 3rd chapter.

The writers were inventive in tying this episode in with its predecessor making it a sequel, prequel and real time parallel synched up with the first original victims that made you say “Ah ha!“ As well as “So what?”

The real test came later that night. I thought about the flick to see if it’d freak me out, I was asleep in seconds.

SO last night I watched the original, hoping to relive that nostalgic tension of yesteryear. I also had the 7 yr. old watch it with me in the hopes of at least being scared by proxy since it was a viewing with an unfamiliar viewer.

All that came to fruition from that excursion is a kid that now refuses to sleep while I’m trying to.

Bummer, just like the sequel