Batman: The Killing Joke (2016) Review

After a small group of dead bodies are discovered at a crime scene by Detective Harvey Bullock and Batman, Gotham City's sworn protector decides to pay a visit to one particular criminal, his longtime enemy The Joker, inside the confines of Arkham Asylum, hoping to unravel the meaning behind them. When he arrives, his usually harsher, more physically dangerous methods of getting someone to spill the beans take a back seat to the decision to just talk to his nemesis, in the hopes that after all of these years feuding, they should not end up killing each other in the end. Very shortly thereafter, Batman discovers that The Joker has escaped his prison. Unknown to everyone involved, the psychopath has been devising his most fiendish and sick plan to date: the kidnapping and slow, almost ritualistic torture of the city's own Gordon family, wherein he aims to prove that all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.

For all of the continuously negative feedback that DC Comics Inc. has been receiving over the past few years, I believe that not all of it is warranted. Yes, their live-action franchises have been of varying quality, and admittedly, I have little desire to watch that one motion picture released earlier this year ever again. And yet, there is always a beacon of hope. In the television department, we have the unabashed fun of shows such as The Flash and future releases like Justice League Action. In the realm of video games, Injustice 2, the highly-anticipated sequel to one of the better fighting games for this last generation of consoles, is set to be released within the first quarter of 2017 (if you haven't watched the Wonder Woman and Blue Beetle reveal trailer, check it out here!). Finally, as I have discussed many times before, Warner Bros. Animation has been pumping out at least two or three new animated films per year for over a decade, with several consisting of popular and beloved storylines from the pages of their own books. During last year's San Diego Comic-Con, producer and friend-of-all-nerds Bruce Timm announced that an adaptation of Alan Moore's Batman: The Killing Joke, a highly influential work whose actions and decisions still ripple throughout the pages of their biggest titles today, was in the plans and set to be released a year later. Over time, further details kept emerging, as did animatics, casting news, and all-too-brief clips of this dream that was finally becoming a reality. I was certainly excited, but even amongst all of this, I had my reservations about what the finished product would look like.

The animation is certainly a step above DC's occasional tendency to hit or miss in the straight-to-home video department. Brian Bolland's design for the Joker has always been one of my favorites, and bringing even the smallest of details to life, such as the shadows surrounding and blocking out his eyes in the infamous "apartment" scene, or his emergence from a pond of hazardous chemicals, look rather splendid. Other technical aspects, such as the score by longtime DCAU composer Kristopher Carter (Batman Beyond) are also exceptional. Obviously, the thing that will attract most fans (other than the sheer intrigue of the movie's existence) is the return of veteran Batman voice actors such as Kevin Conroy, Mark Hamill, and Tara Strong. As predicted, they are all in top form, with Hamill delivering one of his finest performances to date as our crazed main antagonist. Some men were just destined to stay attached to a character for as long as they live, and as much as I have respected other portrayals over the years from the likes of Heath Ledger (R.I.P.) Richard Epcar, and John DiMaggio, ol' Luke Skywalker is just irreplaceable to someone like me. Prior to the actual flick starting, the audience was even treated to a short, taped interview with the man himself, wherein he discussed his history with voicing this fictional nutjob, including how he initially thought that he would be selected for a villain such as Two-Face or Ra's Al Ghul instead. It was certainly a nice treat for every fan in attendance.

Okay, so now that we have gotten through the positive aspects of Batman: The Killing Joke, I can kick off my shoes and remove my gloves. Firstly, my fear of the source material being far too short to adapt into any sort of feature length film was realized in a way that I could have never imagined. Without trying to spoil anything for those that are reading, only the second half of The Killing Joke is dedicated to the comic of the same name. While I understand that filler is necessary when the time calls for it (I am a twenty plus year fan of the Dragon Ball franchise after all), attempting to recreate any writing style as unique as Alan Moore's just feels far too difficult to do, especially when your lead-in consists of a weak Batgirl-centric story (with a villain named Paris Franz....not making that up) that does more to harm the reputation and respect that you have for the well-known protagonists. Even if you are not well-versed with Batman outside of the big or small screens, you can meticulously pick out every single portion of this that feels like it was written solely for this picture and every other chunk that was lifted from the printed story. This is all the more shocking when you notice that this project's script was penned by the immensely talented Brian Azzarello of 100 Bullets and Wonder Woman fame. It's the cinematic equivalent of when you go to a fancy restaurant, pining for your favorite dish. Once you receive said entree, somebody that you know walks by, observes what it is that you are eating, and says "Hey, that looks pretty good. But I think it's missing something." This person proceeds to pull ingredients out of their pocket, dumping them onto your meal and making it nearly indigestable as a result, then walks away before you can get a good word in about why they think that this was a good idea.

There has also been a humongous amount of outrage surrounding said filler, as it changes and scrambles the connection between two of our four central characters of Batman: The Killing Joke. While it initially didn't make me fume as badly as it has for others, and I feel that it may have been due to the need for stirring "more controversy" just as Moore and Boland's work did back during its initial release, all it took was about two hours for me to realize that this bold decision was anything but. In fact, it was really, really bad. As a fan of cinema, I've always believed that implications are sometimes best left as just that. It reminded me of the assortment of unnecessary backstories to other madmen in the world of entertainment such as Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers, or when two characters from your favorite form of media would do something completely out of left field because producers and writers thought that a small collection of fans that wanted this could somehow outweigh the larger amount of opinions of those that didn't. Sure, there will always be an air of mystery to it that a select few want to see explained, but a majority of fans prefer to just leave things be. It also casts a broken, dim light on our titular hero that no fan of the Dark Knight would ever wish to see, and worse yet, makes another champion of the DC universe into something that even a modern day Frank Miller would shake his head at. That, or make him wish that he had thought of something so "brilliant." And before I am accused of being an elitist or purist fanboy by my fellow geeks, I am one hundred percent fine with attempting to change or add something to an adaptation. Heck, it's one of the things that is keeping AMC's Preacher, which still stands as my favorite series of graphic novels ever written, so entertaining. But when you're taking one of the very best comic books about the perplexing, dark, and surprisingly complicated relationship between the Caped Crusader and the Clown Prince of Crime, and tacking on an incredible amount of groan-inducing stupid writing, thusly twisting at least half of it into something that more closely resembles high school fan-fiction written by a misogynist masquerading as a feminist, you aren't exactly going to please a good portion of your fanbase. 

Though these following sentences may come across as childish, I am at the point where I just can not wear a fake smile (even with the help of patented Joker gas) and give this a good recommendation. Yes, the handling of the original source material is, for the most part, done decently well, but in the end, it isn't enough to lift this above the most definitive labeling of "an eternal disappointment." Personally, I feel that a shorter, more compact iteration would have worked far better, perhaps in the form of an anthology along the lines of the excellent DC Showcase Original Shorts Collection, especially when you consider that the eccentric English author behind this has a myriad of tales that have yet to receive the animated treatment (Superman: Whatever Happened To The Man Of Tomorrow? comes to mind). If you're an Alan Moore or Batman completist, I know that there isn't anything that I've said that will ultimately tell you to save your money and just stick to the graphic novel instead, but if you're paying money in the double digits to see this (I paid THIRTEEN DOLLARS to see this in a theater), I worry that you may be just as insane as any of the inmates in Arkham Asylum.

Speaking of that, I'd highly suggest that you go and watch the Killing Joke recreations in that series of games instead. They're shorter, creepier, and also feature the same top notch voice actors.

Lights Out (2016) Review

Years ago, during an evening shift at work, Martin's father was brutally killed without explanation by someone or something that was never caught or figured out. After time has gone by, the young man is living with his seemingly emotionally broken mother, and has been experiencing frightening episodes during the night brought upon by a woman named Diana. After he bares his soul to older sister Rebecca, the woman confesses to Martin that she herself has also been the victim of these same terrors throughout her life. The emergence of this malevolent spirit is no coincidence, however, and together with Rebecca's new boyfriend, the trio set out to discover the true meaning of its existence, and the potential connection it has to their own clouded family history.



Considering my tendency to unfortunately avoid seeing newer releases in the horror genre inside of a theater (this is something that I am in dire need of correcting), the decision to choose Lights Out, the full-length feature based on the short of the same name by first time director David F. Sandberg, over a gigantic blockbuster like the newest entry in the Star Trek franchise, is riskier than I thought it would be. But, given my surprisingly good run of films steeped in said genre that I've viewed lately, diving into a third one in less than a month could make for a nice grand slam. Of course, if this particular project ended up being less than stellar, I may find myself with several eggs on my face, adjourned with Enterprise logos.


Smack dab on the poster for Lights Out is the production credit for one Mr. James Wan, the Malaysian-Australian director/producer whose credits include The Conjuring, Fast 7, and more motion pictures that I am certain you have seen before (and possibly even own). Without even having to see a single frame of this flick, you can sense the fellow's influence that permeates throughout Lights Out. First, there's the emphasis on long moments of silence, only to be topped off by absolutely startling moments of terror that range in terms of volume projected forth. Secondly, the idea of any benevolent spirit being attached to a human being, potentially suffering from trauma kept secret from others, rather than merely haunting an establishment. Wan's own Insidious comes to mind, as does the terrific The Babadook by Jennifer Kent, of which I can tell Sandberg and his crew are clearly big fans of. Thirdly, the unmistakeable decision to keep the body count low. With the exception of his debut effort Saw, Wan has the idea that bloodshed and stacking up the corpses isn't wholly necessary for wresting real fear from human beings. As much of a sucker as I am for films that pile on the bodies like I do with calories, I sympathize and agree with that mindset. Perhaps it's because I have gotten older over time, as I'm certain that I would have loathed a film like this one in my younger, more ignorant teenage years. Still, as respectable as that may be, the scares in Lights Out didn't seem to come in as strongly as I would have wanted them to. Mercifully, they never enter into comical territory, but the over-reliance on the dreaded jump scare tactic does wear thin as time goes on, even if there are some very good ones that pop up during its shockingly short eighty-one minute running time. Thanks to some fairly good cinematography, the mood is kept moderately tense whenever light does escape, adding a real feeling that nothing can truly be done to defeat whatever it is that is persistently disturbing this family.


Two of our main protagonists are portrayed by Teresa Palmer (Take Me Home Tonight, Warm Bodies) and Alexander DiPersia, who I believe is a relative newcomer when it comes to taking larger roles in theatrically released movies. Admittedly, they are a bit hit or miss during sequences that don't directly deal with this mostly unseen force, but young newcomer Gabriel Bateman, who was previously cast in another Wan-related project titled Annabelle, does stand out among the tortured cast as Rebecca's younger brother Martin. He is rather good at emitting genuine fear when the time is right, and you feel for him more than any other individual caught in the madness that surrounds them. Plus, he doesn't have an Avenged Sevenfold poster hanging at his flat like the aforementioned couple discussed in the first sentence of this paragraph. While I did expect veteran performer Maria Bello (A History of Violence, The Cooler) to deliver a quality performance as their deeply disturbed, psychologically tortured mother, it did seem to take more than a couple of scenes for that to occur, and she does end up showing why I firmly believe that she's one of the most criminally overlooked actresses in Hollywood. The rest of the cast, for what there is, are fine too, if not underused or just serving the purpose of being "redshirts" or existing as pieces in occasionally shoddy flashback sequences.


Lights Out serves as an interesting, if not evidently flawed experience that depends entirely on your expectations of what you think horror of this ilk can or should be. Well, that and if you can stomach being surrounded by the unmistakable idiots that fill the cineplexes these days during the opening weekend of newer scary releases. For a PG-13 motion picture without a recognizable name attached as director and a modest budget of roughly five million dollars, the film isn't terribly bad, nor is it terribly good. At the end of the day, it is a fine and durable effort with some decent jumps and heart from a director who I will do the best to keep my eye on for the next few years. After all, all one has to do is look back at James Wan's own filmography to notice the rise in quality and increase of bigger/better projects that came his way.



God help us all if Aquaman somehow screws that up though.

Ghostbusters (2016) Review

Columbia University teacher Dr. Erin Gilbert has been living a rather meager, uneventful life following the bombing of her book which discusses the possibility of existence beyond the realm of the living. When she discovers that the work has been republished by her co-author Dr. Abby Yates, who has continued throughout the years on her own research alongside the quirky and intelligent Dr. Jillian Holtzmann, Erin leaves to meet with her old acquaintance in hopes of finding out why. It doesn't take long for the trio to discover that not only is there life beyond death, but that the ghosts who inhabit our planet are the furthest thing from welcoming or friendly. With the assistance of streetwise, MTA worker Patricia Tolan, the new group open their own business so that they may help those in need, but find there may be something far more sinister brewing around Manhattan, and worse yet, that the rise of these phantoms is anything but coincidental.



Attention fellow nerds, geeks, and all-around lovers of things peculiar or out of the ordinary: Paul Feig's 2016 remake of Ghostbusters, the beloved 1984 supernatural horror/comedy, is a perfectly serviceable and fun motion picture. You can calm down, go about your daily lives, and save your incessant complaining for something far more important that truly deserves it.


Okay, that certainly isn't the most eloquent way to start an actual review, as it pretty much saves you the trouble of have to traverse and read the rest of my collected thoughts. And yet, getting that out of the way feels so incredibly satisfying. Prior to its opening day, I can not recall one particular cinematic release receiving this much blatant and ugly backlash solely based on it even daring to exist. It's honestly made me look at fans of the original in a much different, if not grim light. Even as somebody who never found myself laughing too much at the trailers that were released prior to 07/15/16, I felt like an alien by telling people to "give it a chance. Trailers lie. This is a FACT." I feel that years ago, people who were into very "niche" culture, which would include something like Ghostbusters, or things far more idiosyncratic such as Japanese animation, tabletop games, or comic books, could band together and stand as one. These days, I get the feeling that there is this mentality that if one person does not enjoy something, every other single person must know that they are inferior and wrong for finding joy in it. It's turning my fellow weirdos into the very things that they hated throughout high school and before. Vince McMahon of the WWE had a saying back in the latter half of the 2000s (albeit in character): "You don't like what you like." If such a stranger, if not more eerily prophetic thing has been uttered, then I would love to hear it.


Anyway, there's a flick to review here, right? I do indeed share fond memories and adoration for Ivan Reitman's classic about the emergence of a number of spirits and poltergeists, with a small assortment of scientists gathering together to develop a way to contain them before something truly catastrophic can occur. Whenever Ghostbusters comes on television, I feel the need to stop whatever I'm doing and watch, even if I'm in the midst of doing my taxes or trying to find a way to bury a body....erm, scratch that last part. There is some sort of magic present in that film that can never be replicated again, especially since co-star and writer Harold Ramis has unfortunately passed away. Before you ask, no, he does NOT make an appearance as a ghost in this iteration. While I'll admit that I'm not the hugest fan of its subsequent followup (I'll even go so far as to say that a lot of it felt kind of forced), I was never completely opposed to them reviving the franchise. Even if we ended up with a steaming turd, we have a plethora of memorabilia and other sources to provide us with entertainment, including two television shows, comic books, and video games. Hell, Activision came out with a new one this week!


The announcement of a newer installment did have me slightly worried though, as I am not the biggest fan of director Paul Feig's previous works. The decision to cast all female performers as our four protagonists never particularly bothered me, as there was never any signs that clearly pointed to the Ghostbusters having to be humans that share the Y chromosome. As luck would have it though, our cast ends up being one of the best aspects of 2016's Ghostbusters, as there is an indelible chemistry between our four leads that makes the audience feel quite welcome in this universe. I firmly believe that most of that comes from three fourths of the team having spent years together (in one way, shape, or form) on the nearly immortal sketch comedy program Saturday Night Live. Kate McKinnon (who I'm admittedly sad I'll never be able to ask out on a date) and Leslie Jones steal the show with nearly every facial expression, twitch, and line they are given, and Kristen Wiig is becoming more and more confident with being able to carry a majority of the weight of a picture with a larger budget on her back. One extra credit must also be given to Melissa McCarthy, who I still think is a very talented woman when she isn't starring in a vehicle spearheaded and written by her husband. Chris Hemsworth (Thor) also provides for some great comic relief, though he does start veering into the type of territory that makes you wonder if somebody can truly be this stupid and still breathing. I would much rather have this sense of camaraderie from a crew than to see a look of absolute dread or trepidation from older performers who want nothing to do with a series that they left behind oh so many years ago (see: Zoolander 2 and X-Men: Apocalypse).


Ghostbusters also does boast some fairly impressive visuals, even if the abundance of CGI does start to drag the product down a bit during the final act. The apparitions that are first encountered look fairly good, bringing to mind some of the otherworldly entities from cult favorites like The Frighteners. Some, such as the 2016 version of fan favorite Slimer, look nearly identical to their thirty-two year old ancestor, albeit with a brighter coat of paint (I hope people recall that the forerunner was played by a woman. Deal with that sexist douchebags). Others, like an absurdly large, skinny patriotic specter, do suffer from looking a tad bit, well, fake. But as someone who recently sat through the nearly insufferable Gods Of Egypt, I'll take any of the effects here every single time if somebody forces me to choose between the two properties. Newer technology is introduced to the franchise as well, and even those who come out unimpressed with the film should still be able to admit that the myriad of new devices shown off by McKinnon's Jillian Holtzmann are actually clever, if not adequately cool. I do wonder if a large chunk of these were devised to help sell toys though, and it certainly isn't beneath the movie to sneak in a few quick product placements here and there.


Is 2016's Ghostbusters perfect? Given the extreme rarity of that distinction, of course it isn't. Not every line delivers the laughs that it intends to, some of the supporting cast are blatant copies of characters from the 1984 version, and the various nods to Reitman's flick, though unabashedly charming, aren't fully necessary. But above all else, it has one essential, very important deciding factor that matters the most out of any cinematic experience: you never find yourself becoming bored. Paul Feig and co-writer Kate Dippold (of Parks and Rec fame) understand that this was a very difficult and nearly impossible job to take, and the two make damn sure that you will never find yourself rudely checking your cellphone or watch, wondering when you can go home. For that, I tip my hat to this new installment and can say that I didn't regret spending a single penny on it. Wait, my gigantic head can't fit a hat no matter how hard I try (it's clearly full of my own ego).



And if even after all of this, you're still spewing venom about the fact that this is playing in a theater near you and you think it's some sort of blight on the world of geek culture, ruining your childhood (a phrase that is beyond tiresome at this point), I give you this picture of Kristen Wiig on the red carpet premiere with a young female fan, eager and noticeably excited to meet her one of new favorite movie stars and someone to potentially look up to.

The world is a pretty sad, scary place right now, but observing something as simple as this makes it a tiny bit less terrible to a simple movie fan (and someone who still has a semblance of faith in humanity) like me. Just because your world is filled with darkness doesn't mean that you have to kill the light of those who haven't been enveloped in it yet. If this doesn't make you crack even half a smile, or still brings about rage from your festering, Burger King Mac and Cheetos-filled heart, let professional wrestling legend The Iron Sheik give you a proper response that I could never imitate, no matter how hard I try.

The Shallows (2016) Review

Medical school student Nancy Adams is still reeling from the passing of her mother, who has unfortunately succumbed to cancer. Feeling the need to clear her head and seek out some sort of tranquility, the young lady travels to a cloistered, seemingly remote beach, bringing along her surfboard for good measure. While there, she meets and manages to briefly interact with other fellow surfers. As the the latter decide to leave one day, Nancy paddles out further to the sea, glancing at what appears to be a large rock. After coming closer, however, she makes a horrifying discovery that leads to the woman beginning a fight for her own life, beached on a large object while a large great white shark circles nearby, waiting for her to become its next meal.



Over a good number of years, the reputation of theatrical and home releases in the realm of "natural horror" has gone downhill at an alarmingly quick rate. There may exist the possibility that this generation believes that given the number of options and useful tools at their disposal, there is truly no other way to be harmed or maimed by mother nature. Perhaps the most unfortunate victim in this decline of quality has been the always recognizable shark family. Yes, we are still blessed from time to time with a project like 2003's Open Water, but for every one of those exceptional efforts, we were treated to FAR inferior, or worse yet, laughingly bad forays that were clearly meant to appeal to the lowest common denominator. I'm speaking of motion pictures along the lines of Shark Night 3D, any and every film that premiered on the SyFy Channel, or the rather rubbish creations by production company The Asylum. Maybe it was just the old man in me that was shining through, but I went into Jaume Collet-Serra's fourth foray into the horror genre, the cleverly-titled The Shallows (fun fact: the original title was "In The Deep," which makes the tagline that much more clever), with a very open mind and an eagerness to finally find anything that reminds you that yes, sharks are very, very dangerous, and you should absolutely, positively be afraid (especially when they aren't being thrown around inside of tornados).


At first glance, The Shallows could be misconstrued as Buried at sea (don't you dare throw in a joke about the band that shares such a name). If your familiarity with the aforementioned film is poor or nonexistent, I can simply describe Rodrigo Cortes' underrated gem as "Ryan Reynolds is buried alive inside of a coffin for ninety minutes with little-to-no contact or help." And for the first act or so, it does appear to be a similar sort of dilemma for our protagonist Nancy (coincidentally played by Reynolds' current wife Blake Lively). But when it comes to this particular problem, she isn't lucky enough to have a cellular phone with her when she finds herself stranded on a rock or other nearby commodities. The only thing our heroine is blessed with is a decent amount of medical knowledge, a paltry understanding of the Spanish language, and a willingness to not give up, as tempting as it might be. Though the marketing of The Shallows as just another "killer shark" movie isn't too surprising, this is arguably more of a breakout performance from the actress herself, who manages to one-up and conquer her previous accolades in other masterful works like The Town. You are given just enough background and brief chattering between others so that you may get to know her and root for her should things go south.


And man oh manischewitz do they ever. Once our slow game of death between Nancy and the great white shark begins, the tension is palpable. At no point did I ever find myself bored or feeling that The Shallows was losing me. I felt as if I had melted into my seat, eyes glued to the screen, with nervousness coursing through my veins. The pacing and cinematography (it is a deceptively beautiful piece to look at) help up the ante, as does a criminally overlooked score from Marco Beltrami, who has worked with juggernauts such as Guillermo del Toro and Kathryn Bigelow in the past, and has even received a Satellite award for another film he scored that has small connections to this. Impressively, the cherry on the top of this palette of quality comes is the surprisingly great guiding and commanding from the usually, if not unfortunately maligned Jaume Collet-Serra, whose previous releases included the 2005 remake of Williams Castle's House Of Wax and 2009's Orphan. It goes without saying that this is the man's best job to date, and one can only imagine of what is to come in the future from the Catalonian director.


Oh, and before anyone asks, why yes, the shark that lurks beneath the ocean, stalking the oh-so-talented and lovely Nancy like something out of a slasher movie, is unquestionably relentless and flat-out intimidating. It may sound like high praise, but I can't recall the last time that I uttered as many concerned grunts or whispered "oh jeez" on more than one occasion, at least when it comes to a movie about an adult being pursued by, well, a carnivorous fish. Bruce the shark may be long gone, but his legacy lives on, and I would go so far as to say that our villain seen here is equally as frightening, even if this ancestor is computer generated (though it is incredibly hard to tell) . Hell, at least Brody and co. had a boat to climb onto, alcohol to drink, and food to eat in between daily sessions! Blake Lively? Well, she's got a seagull who happens to like hanging around her. And she has some fairly gross crabs..............yeah, I don't feel very good about that one either.


I am fairly certain that The Shallows could prove to be slightly divisive to what makes up most of today's pickier horror audiences. Some may be put off by the idea that you couldn't just try to fight back when swimming towards safety (which easy to say, but it's far from being the easiest thing to do. Also, IT'S A GREAT WHITE SHARK). Others may wish for a higher body count, complaining that you can't make a truly frightening killer shark flick unless it's been given a hard "R" by the MPAA (not true). For me personally, I highly recommend letting your guard down (because the best kind of scares are the ones where you're willing to let it happen), and taking a trip out to the cinemas to give this one a try, especially if you have longed for an honest-to-god great reminder of why the ocean can be cruel, ghastly, and unforgiving.



Plus, if you have the courage to stick around after the credits have finished, you will be graced with the presence of an unearthly, horrifying, familiar terror that has been waiting nearly twenty years to resurface.

Green Room (2016) Review

"The Ain't Rights," a group of four young musicians playing abrasive punk rock, are traveling on the road playing an assortment of gigs while struggling to make ends meet. After a particularly underwhelming show in Seaside, Oregon draws a nearly empty and apathetic crowd, a radio show host offers them the chance to play at a small club outside of Portland. Desperate for any sort of income and exposure, they agree to travel and jump on the bill. However, when they arrive, they discover that not only is the venue seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but it is also a haven for neo-nazi skinheads. After their set is finished and they wish to pack up and hit the road, band member Pat walks into the green room, a place for band members to relax before and after performing, to retrieve a cell phone that has been left behind, but stumbles across two of the patrons standing over a dead woman with a knife in her head. Panicking, the entire band suddenly find themselves locked in by the bouncers, and those inside and outside of the club have no intention of letting them leave so easily after what they have witnessed.



Given that I am going to be heading out on the road in less than twenty-four hours, wherein I will eventually find myself enjoying the perks of a four day music festival in Baltimore, Maryland, I may just cut to the chase with this opening paragraph: save for a certain Marvel Studios flick that was released within this month, Jeremy Saulnier's third directorial foray into gritty, uneasy cinema, the aptly, if not simply titled Green Room, is my frontrunner for the best picture of 2016 that has been released to theaters. In layman's terms, it is really, really damn good. The amount of unnerving tension and flat-out dread that is felt throughout its ninety-five minute running time (which runs by quicker than one thinks that it would) is nothing short of exceptional. Saulnier (who also writes here), much like the earlier efforts from genre greats like Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven, has a knack for making the audience nervous from the get go, as is evidenced when our protagonists pull up to this venue that is apparently cut off from the rest of the world. Speaking from experience, my own band (cue cheap plug) has played at clubs like this one, and trust me when I say that should anything ever go awry at places such as these, you really do suspect that you are more helpless than you realize, and who knows how long help would come (if at all). Admiringly, the man does manage to sprinkle in small bits of black comedy here and there too, so you won't just be constantly grimacing.

As with Saulnier's previous release Blue Ruin, the film's propensity for rather alarming violence very much appears out of nowhere. Of course, compared to the overabundance of modern pop culture phenomenons, it is far from the goriest, but every single sequence and action packs more of a punch than any traditional slasher or Dimension Pictures production could ever churn out. As someone who has a relatively iron stomach, there were multiple moments in here that just had me wincing and emitting an audible gasp or pained groan. Green Room also boasts some top notch performances from an impressive gathering of decidedly underrated actors and actresses, including the usually reliable Anton Yelchin (Star Trek, Charlie Bartlett), Blue Ruin and Hellbenders alum Macon Blair (*waving hello in case he reads this*), and Imogen Poots (28 Weeks Later), who wears a "chelsea" haircut rather well if you ask this lonely, single fella....wait, can't get distracted here. Everyone shows up here with the absolute best of intentions, clearly fascinated by and embracing the script which they had previously read. The most surprising addition to Green Room is the casting of one Sir Patrick Stewart. While I myself will say that its always going to be difficult watching the esteemed thespian take part in anything that doesn't involve the Star Trek franchise, he knocks it out of the park by portraying an eerily calm, if not deceptively sinister club owner who is hiding far more sinister secrets than even his own employees or underlings would believe. He's the cherry on top of a very bloody sundae.

There is also a real hidden gem that stands out in Green Room, and that is the attention to detail when it comes to the musical side. Perhaps I'm just a sucker for any motion picture that actually seems to correctly get the vibes of anything associated with punk rock, heavy metal, or hardcore, but from I have heard, Saulnier and his cohorts/crew spent quite a few years involved with the late 90s/early 2000s scene, and you can tell. Don't believe me? Well, Toxic Holocaust mastermind Joel Grind helps contribute to The Ain't Rights own tunes, and the list of "thank yous" during the end credits reads like your friend's pretty awesome iTunes collection. So shut your yap. There is also a rather dreary (but great!) score permeated throughout, and a solid mixture of licensed music heard amidst the chaos. 

If my memory serves me well (which is debatable at best, as I can attest that goldfish have a better chance at remembering little things than I do), I previously wrote that director Jeremy Saulnier could very well be on his way to becoming the next Joel or Ethan Coen. Well, since my own posts' views have increased a tad bit over the past few years, I will boldly repeat myself and cement that opinion. The craftsmanship of a picture like Green Room is beyond impressive, and for those seeking out a fresh, bold, darkly funny, and quite frankly unsettling piece of cinema, the man's third full-length effort (his second to be released in theaters), I can not encourage you enough to seek this out and give it your hard-earned cash. Trust me, as great as a picture like Captain America: Civil War is, it isn't going anywhere; it'll be fine. Please support the smaller guys in this case, so that their repertoire and cast may grow even larger with future endeavors, and eventually warrant not just wider releases for fresh projects, but even more accolades and awards.

Or if you miss this particular one in theaters, you can at least buy Saulnier and Blair a round of drinks should you run into them in or around the Austin or Portland areas. They had the good sense to put Midnight, Bad Brains, and Napalm Death onto the movie's soundtrack after all.

The Amazing Bulk (2012) Review

Young scientists begin work on a...serum...that turns one of them...-


Screw it, I can not convince myself to even attempt to make a description of this film's plot synopsis. Then again, one could even argue with categorizing The Amazing Bulk as not a full-fledged motion picture, but rather a college student's poor attempt at making a superhero parody that began out of a brainstorm fueled by excessive amounts of glue huffing and Angel Dust usage. It's a thirty minute idea that is somehow stretched into an excruciating seventy-five minute long movie, and ultimately feels like it could still have fifteen minutes eliminated from the final cut (with most of that coming from stock footage of missile launches and scenes from orbit that are set to classical music). There was no brand of drug out there, be it legal or illegal, to make this experience anything but, well, fucking bizarre.


Okay okay, if you were to request that I give a sincere explanation as to what in the unholy hell this flick's story even is, I would tell you that at its core, it's the "mockbuster" equivalent of Louis Leterrier's 2008 reboot of The Incredible Hulk, only without the everything. The revelation that most of this picture's budget was spent on designing the cover art posted above would not shock me in the slightest.  If your desire was to see a behemoth of an antihero that looked like recently-deceased MMA standout Emmanuel Yarbrough had sexual intercourse with a melted version of the Grimace who spends more time running like a character from an early 1990s Macintosh game than he does fighting, then allow me to disgrace this blog of mine with one capture of the titular character.

Did I scare you away yet? No? Good. Because should you search on noted movie database IMDB (where this pile is currently sitting at an alarmingly low 1.9), one fellow reviewer points out that this was primarily filmed on an iPhone 4. More often than not, absurd statistics such as this would warrant some further research so that I can prove their validity, but in this case, I'm just going to go along with what this person says and agree that it was very likely true. One hundred percent of Bulk is shot on a green screen, with none (I repeat, NONE) of the backgrounds being authentic and making the "Money For Nothing" video look modern. Christ, they even have CGI dogs and Monkeys running around! If this was an attempt at paying homage to noted screen gems such as Who Framed Roger Rabbit or Cool World, then they succeeded with no colors. By the way, before anyone jumps on me with the usual "oh, but they weren't lucky enough to have a huge budget," I would just like to point out that even turds like Manos: The Hands of Fate had the decency to grab real animals for their set, and all they had to promise the owners or tamers was a bowl of food for the creatures to enjoy.


Oh that's right, I haven't even begun to discuss what is usually the subject of fecal waterslides such as these: the acting! Well, given that the dialogue is written by two gentlemen whose credits include promising efforts like Vampire Boys, Gothic Vampires From Hell, and Queen Cobra, it's a given that it would be downright embarrassing. What you'll ultimately take away from every single character (other than they're self-aware that they are in a flick made for approximately the same amount that it would cost to purchase an HD TV) is that they are doing their best to turn up the volume of their roles' stereotypes to a clear eleven. The man portraying our Bruce Banner is just as bland as Eric Bana was in the 2003 Hulk, and even Bulk's antagonist, who may or may not be Adolf Hitler, is as over-the-top as one with working eyesight could ever imagine. Every performer also seems to be walking or running as if they were on a treadmill or partaking in those old green screen skits that you would see on Late Night With Conan O'Brien.


Should an afterlife truly exist, I am thoroughly convinced that there is a special place reserved for films of this ilk in the deepest, most pain-inducing bowels of hell. Do not be fooled by its promise of comparisons to that masterpiece of trash known as Tommy Wiseau's The Room. Yes, its unbelievable badness does almost warrant a one-time viewing, but pictures such as the latter, along with numerous cream of the crap winners in Grade-Z cinema like Pocket Ninjas and Shark Attack 3 will sooner find themselves sitting in heaven than this ever would. This 2010 work, which took an additional two years to see distribution for anyone that enjoys torturing their children, is available for streaming on Amazon Prime and sitting at the bottom of that dumpster a few blocks away from your apartment or house.



Enter at your own risk, and know that you will be in my thoughts should you decide to take the plunge.

Batman V. Superman: Dawn Of Justice (2016) Review

Eighteen months have passed since a large battle occurred in Metropolis that resulted in not just the death of Kryptonian overlord General Zod, but massive amounts of property damage and the loss of many innocent lives. At the center of this conflict emerged Superman, a being seemingly sent from the stars who has been equally praised and vilified for his actions during and after the incident. One such critic is billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, who has been acting in secret for decades as the Batman, a protector of neighboring city Gotham. On the flip side, Daily Planet contributor Clark Kent, the human disguise of Superman himself, believes that this masked vigilante is more dangerous than most believe. When Lex Luthor, the eccentric head of a well-known organization bearing his name receives a mysterious green rock found in the Indian Ocean that causes noticeable damage to those comprised of Kryptonian DNA, he believes that the populace can finally be rid of this flying foreigner that has been dubbed a "god" by those the world over. Unknown to him, Luthor's own research is also being sought out by not just the owner of Wayne Enterprises, but by a mysterious woman whose emergence during this inevitable clash has every party involved intrigued.

The fact that it has taken nearly eighty years for the general public to see two of the most iconic characters in pop...actually, scratch that, GLOBAL culture meet in the realm of cinema is astonishing. Coming off the heels of the rather divisive Man Of Steel (of which you can read my review for here), Warner Brothers and DC Comics have announced that a new world will come to fruition and be shaped around the aforementioned motion picture. Ripe with recognizable heroes and villains alike, it is their answer to what Marvel Studios began with back in 2008, and they hope to reignite the flames of those who had never thought they would see these individuals appear on the silver screen again. And when you make the bold choice of pitting Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent against one another as your second entry in this proposed universe, while also throwing in a small part for a certain Amazonian fighter, you are certainly aiming to kick things off with a bang. It has fans across the globe excited, though admittedly very nervous for the future.

What follows, however, has suddenly warped what intrigue I had into near apathy that borders on utter disdain.

Before getting into the real gist of things, I'm well aware that there are a good chunk of folks who do frequent or read reviews from this blog who could not care less about this sort of niche, but it could be hard to argue about why Marvel Studios has done this "shared universe" idea far better than their competitors at DC has. You planted the seeds early on, starting off with a runaway success (Iron Man) and ending with a love letter to the golden era of cinema that nobody expected to be as good as it was (Captain America: The First Avenger), all the while watching each flower grow into a beautiful bouquet that you could offer to the general public as a thank you for staying around as long as you had (The Avengers). True, releasing two new films a year and having several television shows from now on is bordering on overkill, but even those will lead into something more grand down the line. Here, director Zack Snyder, along with writers David S. Goyer, and Chris Terrio, make the risky decision to throw all of their own seeds into a pot at once, pour several gallons worth of water on top, and shout "GROW DAMN YOU GROW!" as loudly as they possibly can.

Once casting for Batman V. Superman: Dawn Of Justice began to make the rounds, I couldn't argue with or blame those who were disgruntled over some of the choices. To the shock of nobody in particular, nearly all of Man Of Steel's cast returns (including Michael Shannon) in some way shape or form. Henry Cavill does a fair job as Kal-El again, though I do suspect that he will need to be told to act a bit livelier in future entries. Others are relegated to nothing more than the smallest of bit parts, and those who you may have complained about being underdeveloped in that project...well, stay underdeveloped. I love Amy Adams and Laurence Fishburne, but their inclusion in the story this time feels like an excuse for several deus ex machinas, with the former delivering some very uncharacteristic wooden lines. Thankfully, some of the new cast turns in some fairly good performances. Ben Affleck proves most of his naysayers wrong and makes for a fine Batman/Bruce Wayne, while Jeremy Irons does his best to brighten the mood with a sarcastic, borderline charming Alfred Pennyworth. Heck, even Gal Gadot, for the very short amount of time that she has during the near three hour running time, is quite exceptional as Diana Prince. One newer addition that falls flat on its face is Jesse Eisenberg (The Social Network, Zombieland) as legendary antagonist Lex Luthor, who seems to have been written to act more akin to the clownish smartasses of villains such as Spider-Man's Mysterio or Batman's Edward Nigma, failing to come across as truly evil or intelligent, and more or less resembling an irritating henchman with delusions of grandeur rather than a power-hungry madman with a plethora of knowledge and wealth to his name. I don't believe that this was the fault of the actor himself, but rather the mostly atrocious dialogue that was given to him. At least Kevin Spacey's portrayal of Lex Luthor in Superman Returns felt like you were watching a proper version of the head of Lexcorp.

What ultimately kills BvS is the fact that it misses one very important core component: for a movie that costs two hundred and fifty million dollars to make, it is decidedly, shockingly not fun to watch. Whether it's due to the absurd amount of flashbacks or dream sequences, or just the poorly edited and shoddily-filmed skirmishes, the whole experience ends with you feeling rather numb. Mind you, I can relish in films that are bleak, dreary, and even flat-out depressing. Hell, I'll be the first to recommend cinematic punches to the gut such as Requiem For A Dream, Man Bites Dog, Bedeviled, and Lucky McKee's The Woman any day of the week. And don't get me wrong, graphic novel adaptations such as Road To Perdition, A History Of Violence, and Snyder's own Watchmen are, for the most part, devoid of any semblance of joy, but the three adjectives typed out in the third sentence of this paragraph should rarely, if ever, be used to describe a movie based on a series of comic books that have historically been primarily aimed at people of all ages. Merriam-Webster defines the word comic as something "causing laughter or amusement" which to an extent, can be translated into feeling exhilarated. While there is some joy to be had near the end of BvS (mostly because you realize that this nearly three hour experience will be over soon...until the homage to Return Of the King's barrage of endings kicks in that is), and seeing the Caped Crusader, The Man Of Steel, and motherfucking Wonder Woman team up in order to take down a larger threat does bring a brief smile to your face, it just doesn't excuse the rest of the picture for being so utterly banal and humorless. When you find that watching super-powered and masked beings beat the unholy hell out of each other boring, perhaps you need to remember to insert some heart and soul into your sequels next time around. Thankfully, I am still on board with seeing a standalone Wonder Woman flick, though I pray that none of the producers or writers involved with this trainwreck are attached to it.

I groaned and sighed far too much for me to properly recommend Batman V. Superman: Dawn Of Justice to a casual moviegoer, but just because I didn't have a very good time doesn't mean that some of you diehards won't. Most of what sinks Snyder's second entry into this franchise isn't even the changes in characteristics or morals of the titular protagonists (though there is one that I suspect will anger even those who come out praising it), but just a bloated script, mediocre directing, and erratic acting that was far too reminiscent of the dark period of flicks based on comic books. Perhaps there is an inherent problem with your finished product when it makes an unabashed geek such as myself say "You know, maybe I should have purchased a ticket for My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2 instead." I believe that your enjoyment of Man Of Steel will fully determine how you feel about this highly anticipated blockbuster as its positives and negatives carried over in spades. If you are reluctant to partake in a visit to your local cineplex, but still want to see a romping encounter between these two icons, I suggest that you track down a number of the DC Animated Movies that have been released throughout the years (or better yet, track down the multipart epic known as "World's Finest" from Superman: The Animated Series). There's a large chance that it will cost you less money, and it's far more cohesive than something like this.

Or better yet, just go watch Deadpool or 10 Cloverfield Lane instead.