Sunday, April 10, 2011

back to the future (part two).

The story so far, I've been offline whilst on the run from 'da law'. Finally holed up in a safe house somewhere in down-town New Yoik it's time for me to update the Arena with a few tiny thumbnail reviews of films what I've seen during downtime for those three folk that read it.

The Fright Fest crowd getting into the spirit of things.

Back to Fright Fest with the film that everyone was talking about (well, nearly everyone, OK then four people queueing for the toilet said it looked good and that exploitation king (and ex Paul McCartney group) Wings Hauser was in it.

"That chicken was rubbery". "Why thank you!"

Rubber (2010).
Dir: Quentin Dupieux.
Cast: Thomas F. Duffy, Roxane Mesquida, Stephen Spinella and 'Wings' Hauser.

Cleverly dubbed 'latexploitation' by some bloke much wittier than myself, Rubber charts the adventures of a psychic car tyre named Robert who finds himself achieving a kinda semi-sentience (and telekinetic powers) whilst lying in a mound of dirt in the Australian outback.

Meanwhile a group of paying onlookers are watching the mayhem unfold thru' rented binoculars and commenting on the action from a nearby hilltop.

Fantastic premise with a brilliant opening followed by a superb first twenty minutes.

Which is a pity then that the pube bearded Mr. Dupieux had to go spoil it by adding an arse cletchingly, desperate to be hip yet ultimately meaningless extra ninety minutes to the end of it.

One for those who thought that Donnie Darko was mind-blowing.

And particularly stupid dogs.

Tho' Hauser was good but not as good as he was in Vice Squad.

Territories (2010).
Dir: Olivier Abbou (bless you).
Cast: Roc LaFortune, Sean Devine, Nicole Leroux, Cristina Rosato and Michael Mando.

Bananarama: The Blackpool years.

From the producer of La Horde and the guy who built the shelves for Inception comes the hilarious tale of five friends who, when driving back home to the good ol' U.S. after attending a wedding in Canada (yes you can son), get stopped by a pair of wackily moustached Border Police.

These crazy coppers, looking exactly like an arse-sex obsessed Laurel and Hardy (yes, they are that hot) check and double check their IDs whilst questioning the pals on all manner of subjects before shouting at them for having a broken headlight.

Things go from frayed to shot to fuck when our potty police find a stash of the hash hidden under a blanket in the back of the car belonging to the token deaf teenage brother of one of the group and to teach him a lesson shoot his dog.

Which is fairly unexpected.

Unbelievably the situation turns even more sinister with a couple of strip seaches and an anal probing or two before spiralling completely out of control when the friends are arrested and taken to a ‘special’ prison camp deep within the forest.

Humiliation, dental abscesses, subtle hints of man-love and (unfortunately) heavy handed political allegories ensue.

Not bad but I did wish someone had have thrown a pie at some point to lighten the mood.

Or at the very least angrily violated the deaf boys oh so pretty mouth.

Talking of violation brings me to what could possibly be the biggest cinematic abortion since Outcast.

From the talentless team behind the movie equivalent of weeping anal sores,  Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer comes a film so dull it can only be likened to being forced to sit in a pitch black room for ninety minutes whilst a stinky tramp pokes you in the shoulder with a stick whilst whispering "Hello hen....hello hen" ad infinitum.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:

The Shrine (2010).
Dir: Jon Knautz.
Cast:  Aaron Ashmore, Cindy Sampson, Meghan (Insecticidal) Heffern
, Trevor Matthews and Vieslav Krystyan.

"Put it in me!"

When an American backpacker goes missing in 'the Europe' (fantastically portrayed by the directors garden) a motley band of journalists led by the scarily squared faced, Real Doll made flesh Cindy (Swamp Devil, High Plains Invaders) Sampson trace his last known whereabouts to the small Polish village of Alvaina.

Aye, right.

Arriving in the village our wooden topped trio fail to notice not only it's similarity to Ohio but also the fact that the residents (all eight of them) are speaking in a made up language.

They do, however manage to spot a huge CGI fog bank hovering in the distance tho' when they try to ask the locals about it they’re chased away to cries of "Ooglestamp!".

Nope not even worth shite-ing in.

Taking this to mean 'go and take a look at the demonic papier mache monster statue that will possess you in the fog' the three head off to the spooky mist bank where, surprise surprise a couple of them get possessed and stuff.

Cue fifty five minutes of absolutely fuck all and and ending so obvious you could see it from space.

Note to Mr. Knautz, please just stop.

De Mornay: you would. Twice.

From the depths of the cinematic sewer to a surprisingly good re-imagining of a 'B' roll classic. Well I say classic, the film no-one was excited about but everyone loved;

Mother's Day (2010).
Dir: Darren Lynn Bousman.
Cast: Rebecca De Mornay, jaime King, Shawn Ashmore, the absolutely yumsome Deborah Ann Woll and Patrick Flueger.

Geri farted...and it was an eggy one.

Fleeing from a botched bank robbery (is there any other kind?) the notorious Koffin brothers; Ike, Johnny and the lead-filled stomached Addley brothers are racing back to their mums house for tea and sympathy.

Unfortunately the non too bright bro's have forgotten the slightly important fact that poor old mum’s house has been sold to a slightly annoying yuppie couple who just happen to be holding a housewarming party that very night.

What are the chances eh?

Taking the house-guests hostage and smashing a vase, the boys lock them in the basement before indulging in a spot of humiliation and mentalism as they wait for the arrival of mummy dearest and their incredibly hot (and not to mention incredibly ginger) sister Lydia.

Deborah Ann Woll: fitter than Jesus.

It's only on mum's arrival that the battered, bewigged and bruised guests realize that she’s the family’s most dangerous member who'll do anything to protect her kin.

Taking the originals title and binning the rest, Bousman surprises us all after directing the yawnful Saw II, III and IV by showing he can, in fact make a rip-roaringly intense shocker that's as fun as it is foul-mouthed.

Perfect for those family get togethers, your gran would love it.

Unless she's dead obviously.

And now we reach the weekend's final treat, the full length version of Jason Eisener's SxSW Festival winning fake trailer featuring the adventures of a stinky bum and his shiny gun.

Hobo With A Shotgun (2010).
Dir: Jason Eisener.
Cast: Rutger Hauer, Gregory Smith, Brian Downey, Nick ("I've, er, made a mistake".) Bateman and cute just not as much as Deborah Ann Woll tho' I wouldn't kick her out of bed for soiling my sheets Molly Dunsworth.

Lord Jamie of Bridle taking a photo of a man having his photo taken with director Eisener and therefore braking down the fourth wall.
Those of us worried that a one joke trailer wouldn't stretch to a full feature had our fears alleviated within minutes of Eisener's lo-fi lampoon of rowdy, rampage, revenge flicks starting, largely thanks to the directors infectious intro but mainly due to the movie being bloody good fun.

Brightly coloured and noisy as hell, the plot follows the (mis)adventures of Hauer's nameless, lawnmower obsessed tramp who, on arriving in a new city via The Littlest Hobo express, finds himself trapped in a quagmire of rampant criminality and urban chaos overseen by the deliciously evil and scarily slick quiffed Drake.

Dunsworth: tight creamy tummy and legs you could ski down.

Trapped in an urban landscape filled to the brim with with corrupt cops, big hatted pimps, under-age prostitutes and paedophile Santas, Hauer decides to clean up the streets the only way he knows how; with a second hand 20-gauge shotgun.

"You chase me now!"

Aided by the plucky ex-prostitute Abby and his unnerving knowledge of bears, it's not long before our homeless hero has to face the dastardly Drake in an arena of death where only one man will be left standing.

Oh and with a head.

Funnier than bowel cancer and twice as colourful, Hobo With A Shotgun won over it's audience with it's cheap and cheerful charm alongside the directors obvious love for cinematic cheese.


Still to come:

A long list of dead folk and some more film stuff.

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