Dude Movies: Crank 2: High Voltage November 4, 2009
Posted by madkevin in Dude Movies, Man Crushes, Movies, hard in the pants.4 comments
Crank 2: High Voltage
What’s it about?
In the best sequel idea since Chow Yun Fat played his own previously unmentioned twin brother in A Better Tomorrow II, Jason “Chev Chelios” Statham wakes up on an operating table (after having survived a fall that would have liquefied any non-Statham) to find his heart being replaced with a big-ass battery.* Hey, we’ve all been there, right?
Any chicks in the movie?
Amy Smart returns as his girlfriend, and the deeply unpleasant Bai Ling shows up as the World’s Most Irritating Prostitute. How Bai Ling gets work in movies is beyond me. She’s got a body that looks like somebody stapled her head on top of a rubber novelty chicken.
Awesomeness Factor?
Stratospheric. Crank 2 is like the Platonic ideal of an action movie, profoundly unconcerned with the pedestrian narrative concerns that plague other sadder, lesser movies that don’t have the balls to be Crank 2**. It’s a movie that is more than willing – eager, you might say – to cut away from a scene to show you a ferret’s ball-sack or the massive man-shaft of a thoroughbred racehorse for no real reason. It’s a movie that gets real-life Bible-thumpin’ moron Corey “I’m Still Alive?” Haim to not only play a mulleted loser pimp but then has Amy Smart beat the ever-living shit out of him for laughs. Technically, it has the elements of what would constitute a normal motion picture, like a plot and characters, but then tosses them away so that Chev Chelios can jack himself with a power grid transformer or shoot up a strip club full of people who had the extreme misfortune of not being Jason Statham. Meanwhile the insane perverts behind the camera throw enough avant-garde film treatments and camera trickery at you to fuel a thousand student film festivals, unable to focus their attention on anything for longer than a few seconds without trying to either blow it up, fuck it, or both. If DVD rental places had any balls at all, they would replace all the Criterion Collection discs with burned copies of Crank 2 instead and, when you opened the case, Statham’s fist would jump through time and space and punch you in the face.
Mitigated by?
The only mitigating factor is that maybe Crank 2 didn’t make enough money for there to be a Crank 3, but I refuse to live in a universe where there is no Crank 3. My guess for the next one: He’s just, like, on fire all the time. TRADEMARKED!
* In this incredible ability to resurrect himself Statham is like Jesus, if Jesus wasn’t such a fucking pussy.
** Like, I don’t know, Schindler’s List. That movie would have been like twenty seconds long if Statham was Liam Neeson.
HELLO? IS THIS THING ON??? October 29, 2009
Posted by madkevin in Uncategorized.3 comments
Wow, so I haven’t posted since August, huh? Nutty.
So recently a few people have come told me that I should post on my blog more. To them I say: How much does it cost to read this? What’s that? Zero point zero dollars? THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT.
But seriously: I blame a few things for my lack of blogitude. The first: games. You non-geeks don’t know this, but we’re in the midst of awesome game season. I can barely keep up with the crazy awesomeness spewing out of my Xbox. I mean, the only reason I’m not playing Borderlands RIGHT NOW is because… actually, I’m not entirely sure why I’m not playing Borderlands. I wonder if I can slip Shorty a mickey and get in a few hours…
The second: Twitter and, to a lesser extent, Facebook and Google Reader. A lot of the impetus to share things that I find on the internet, or that seemingly unstoppable desire I have to spew out weird, pointless things to an invisible readership, is pretty nicely served by Tweets and the like. (You can get me at themadkevin@twitter.com, or under my real name on Facebook.) So that leaves the blog for longer-form writing which, ever since the quiet demise of the GenXine, I’ve found harder to make time for.*
But my former GenXine editor A. might be starting up another movie-related blog soon, so perhaps it’s time to dust off the writing chops. God knows I’ve watched enough Dude Movies in the past few months. (Oh, Wolverine: Origins. Why do you make it so hard for me to love you?) So, no promises, but perhaps I’ll try to crank out some more reviews on a more regular basis.
The third: NEW MUSIC TOYS. I recently bought myself a really nice Vox practice amp and a goofy multi-effects unit, which does a whole lot of crazy stuff without doing anything really well. Except MAKE A SHIT-TON OF NOISE. Which, really, is all I care about.
So, as a little Hallowe’en treat for all y’all, here’s a little something I’ve been working on. It occurred to me that my music sounds like it should be a movie soundtrack, so this one was a conscious effort to make something that would fit into a John Carpenter movie. Please to enjoy, and I’ll talk to you kids soon:
* I have a weird thing where I find it easier to write if I know it’s going to show up in print somewhere. Writing solely for the web seems ephemeral and weightless, but even if it’s just for a zine that’s destined to end up in local hipsters bathrooms, I find it’s more of a reward knowing my writing eventually will show up on a bunch of dead trees stapled together.
The Great Shearing Of ‘09 August 24, 2009
Posted by madkevin in beards, narcissism, nerds.12 comments
First:
Then, the “Deadwood”:
Followed by the “Ron Jeremy”:
Until:
Say, Is That A Wand Of Fire In Your Pocket? July 30, 2009
Posted by madkevin in D&D Harlequins.9 comments
I consider myself to be a pretty well-read dude, but there’s a minor branch of the literary tree I was unfamiliar with until quite recently: NASCAR branded Harlequin novels. Let that sink in for a moment. Harlequin novels. With NASCAR branding.
I know you don’t believe me, but take a quick walk through Amazon and you’ll see I do not lie. Amazingly, the level of prose is even better than you’d expect. Allow me to excerpt a particularly illuminating passage from the novel Checkered Past:
He quirked an eyebrow. “Any other dark secrets?”
“Just one.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled a rush of words. “My family is pretty rich.”
He didn’t look surprised.
“Really rich.”
He shrugged. “I noticed the fancy labels on your clothes last night…”
She blushed. “One of the reasons I never slept with anyone before was because I never knew if a guy liked me for myself or because of who my father is.”
Now he looked interested. “You do mean seriously rich.”
“My father is Brian Hudson.” She buttered her toast and waited for the other shoe to drop.
Kudos, Harlequin romance writer. That last sentence is so good it’s a wonder why every other writer in the world computers didn’t just spontaneously combust out of envy.
But this got me a-thinkin’ – if a market for NASCAR romance novels exist, then surely there could be other markets waiting to be tapped like a trembling young debutante awaiting her first glimpse of Fabio man meat. But what’s the hoariest adage about writing? Write what you know.
And with that, I present to you a selection from my forthcoming Dungeons & Dragons branded Harlequin romance, tentatively titled Eighteen Charisma:
The air around the gaming table was electric. Rebecca had never noticed how… sexy the smell of root beer mixed with stale Cheetos could be.
Brock, the dungeon master, looked deeply into her eyes. “An orc mage appears in the doorway to the castle. He seems to be preparing to cast a spell. What do you do?” His voice was tender, but it veiled the absolute authority of one who ruled his fantasy realm with an iron fist.
“I… I’m so new at this,” said Rebecca, avoiding Brock’s eyes. “I fire an arrow at him, hoping to disrupt his spell.”
“Then roll the dice,” Brock purred. “Roll them hard.”
Rebecca picked up the 20-sided die, her senses heightened with anticipation. “A 10. Is that good?”
“Not good enough,” said Brock scooping up the dice with the practiced movements of a veteran. “The mage looses his magic missle towards you.”
Brock rolled the dice. “A natural 20,” Brock said, the smirk in his voice betraying his pleasure at his dice-rolling prowess, his eyes on fire at the promise of yet another conquest. “Critical hit.”
“Is that bad?” asked Rebecca, fully knowing the answer.
“The magic missle penetrates your shallow defenses, blowing past your weakened armour, and thrusts itself towards your soft, white flesh. You gasp at the size and power of it.”
“Take me, my dungeon master!” exclaimed Rebecca, no longer able to control herself. “Quick, before your parents come home!”
Harry: Week 38 June 19, 2009
Posted by madkevin in Harry.3 comments
Some pics for those of you who are not privvy to the Flickrstream. First up, an extremely rare picture of Harry in repose:
Awwww. Looking at him like this, you’d have no idea he was capable of great, great evil.
Next: Wet dog!
Harry being wet poses a bit of a conundrum for him, because while he hates being wet, he also hates being towelled. So usually he just looks all sad and dejected for a while, until he gets irritated enough with being moist that he deigns to allow us to dry His Royal Dampness.
Seriously, look at that face. He looks like we force-feed him a diet of gruel before sending him to his twenty-hour shift at the salt mines. Which is ludricous, because by law the shift can only be, like, sixteen hours.
Last: Planting a flag on Mount Kevin:
I’ve mentioned his bizarre fetish about being on my head, right? Well, here’s proof. If you think this is weird, about thirty seconds after this was taken he proceeded to French-tongue my ear canal. That’s wrong on at least five different levels.
Quick! Somebody Lend Me 36,001 Pounds! June 15, 2009
Posted by madkevin in Nostalgia, angry old dudes, narcissism.3 comments
The painfully awesome scooter ridden by Phil Daniels in the surprisingly excellent future Dude Movie pick Quadrophenia just got sold for thirty-six thousand pounds. You know, this one:
Ah well. I’m sure the guy who bought it is nice eno…. WHO THE FUCK AM I KIDDING? I TOTALLY WANT THIS! GRRRRRRRRR!!!
Dude Movies: Outlander May 24, 2009
Posted by madkevin in Dude Movies, ODIN!!!!!!, Uncategorized.3 comments
Outlander
What’s it about?
Monster hunter from space crash-lands next to a Viking village in 700AD, accidentally releasing said monster to munch on the unsuspecting sons of Odin.
Any chicks in the movie?
Sophia Myles (dependable as always as the semi-hot British chick in a genre movie) as Viking king John Hurt’s spunky daughter. You can tell she’s spunky because she has red hair. It’s a total giveaway. Alas, no nudity, because when you’re fighting a hellbeast from Arcturus, who has time for nooky?
Awesomeness Factor?
There are two types of people in this world. The majority of people, who belong in the first group, wouldn’t give a movie about Vikings fighting aliens a second glance on their way to rent whatever insipid romantic comedy starring a non-naked Jennifer Aniston got released this week. You know – normal fucking people. The second group, whom we refer to as Dudes*, would stop dead at the sight of this DVD cover while their brain desperately tried to make sense of a universe that only chose now, some hundred years after the invention of cinema, to make a ALIEN VERSUS VIKING PICTURE. With such a solid gold concept, Outlander would have to be an epic failure of Uwe Boll proportions for me to dislike it. But luckily, Odin smiled upon Outlander and gave it his bloody blessing: sure, you won’t convince your wife or asshole art-snob friends to watch this anytime soon, but this is actually a hell of a lot better than it has any right to be. Sure, the Vikings have about as much historical authenticty as a fat-ass drunken LARPer has to Orlando Bloom, but nobody gives a shit about actual Vikings. I want to see the Vikings of my mind who, not coincidentally, look exactly like bald, bearded, face-tattoed Ron Perleman, swinging war hammers the size of small dogs and screaming things like “I WILL TEAR YOUR BLEEDING HEART FROM YOUR BODY!!!” Still, when you have an alien vs. Vikings movie, the Vikings are only half the equation. But again, Outlander comes through with a fabulous monster, which appears to be what would happen if a chimera hatefucked a Balrog. They even manage to (SPOILER!) set the thing on fire, which is like fifteen kinds of awesome right fucking there. Amazingly, the sci-fi elements of the story are equally strong, looking like what I assume the guys who made The Chronicles Of Riddick were aiming for but didn’t quite reach. Outlander isn’t a smart movie, exactly – but it is as smart as it needs to be. Which, when it comes to all things Dude Movie, is just enough.
Mitigated by?
I eagerly await the inevitable fan-edit that tosses the Howard Shore knock-off score for bitchin’ battle metal.
* Something I’ve been meaning to explain about Dude Movies – the term “dudes” neither respects or implies gender. To be a Dude, and by extension a lover of movies aimed at Dudes, you don’t actually have to be swinging pipe. Rather, Dudeness is a state of mind, one that is encapsulated almost entirely by the abstract concept of a movie like Outlander. Here lies the essence of Dudeosity: you looked at that poster, and the very first thing you asked yourself was “How is Vin Diesel not in this movie?”
Voxy Lady May 17, 2009
Posted by madkevin in Strummy, narcissism, wankery.add a comment
So a little while back, I decided to blow money for no good reason on a little practice amp. My reasoning behind this was that if I ever wanted to, I don’t know, play guitar somewhere besides in front of my computer, a practice amp would be a nice thing to have. Little did I know that practice amps have come a long fucking way – I picked up an amazing little 15w Vox that has an absurd amount of settings. I loooooove Vox, even though Brian May through plays one and, as we all know, Queen is responsible for cancer.
Anyway, turns out this little thing can crank out a great, fuzzy rock tone. To inaugurate Voxy into the family, I decided to put all that stoner rock and metal I’ve been listening recently to good use. This one is loud and, unbelievably, sloppier than usual, but it was a fucking riot to play. The guitars in the extreme left and right are through the Vox with no other manipulation (besides compression on the mastering channel) – there’s a bit at the two-thirds mark where they have a nice, warm, tubey “American Woman” sound. The middle guitar is going through my usual attention-deficit “Hey, I wonder what this plug-in does?” chain of wonky effects. Anyway, I dig it.
Click on the link to give it a listen ==> Dude, It’s Like… Dude.
Please to enjoy!
Dude Movies: JCVD May 4, 2009
Posted by madkevin in Dude Movies.3 comments
JCVD
What’s it about?
In a plot seemingly constructed in a Belgian movie laboratory for the sole purpose of getting me to watch it, Jean-Claude Van Damme (playing himself, sort of) finds himself embroiled in a bank-heist hostage situation while depressingly contemplating his failed career.
Any chicks in the movie?
Nobody of consequence.
Awesomeness Factor?
You know those dancing bears in the circus? They ride around on unicycles, dressed in hilariously emasculating clown costumes, and you feel kinda sorry for the bear but at the same time you’re all like “Dude! That bear is totally riding a unicycle! How awesome is that?” It’s not the quality of the riding that’s important, but rather that the bear can ride at all. In JCVD, the bear is Jean-Claude Van Damme*, and the unicycle is his freshly discovered ability to act, made even more shocking because he’s starred in approximately one squintillion direct-to-DVD movies before this. The conceit here is Jean-Claude is playing himself, or at least some particularly depressing version of himself – a once-celebrated action star who’s ego and drug problems have dragged him down to the sub-Steven Seagal level of the action movie ladder. JCVD kicks off with a brazenly awesome one-take action sequence where the Muscles From Brussels takes down what appears to be the entire German eastern front, but you can’t stop yourself from noticing his slow, methodical movements and his sloppy, over-reacting opponents. Jean-Claude is no Tony Jaa, and the action movie world has moved on without him. From there, Van Damme gives us an incredibly self-loathing peek into his life: he’s broke, he’s old, he’s fighting for custody of his daughter, and while he’s still a national icon in Belgium he’s nothing more than an 80s punchline to the rest of the world. JCVD tricks you in those first ten minutes or so into thinking it’s going to be the Charlie Kaufman version of an action movie, but sadly once the actual plot starts it slides into a sub-par hostage thriller played mostly straight. Annoyingly, the director really, really, really wants to make Pulp Fiction*, so he cuts up the narrative of this story into a pointlessly tricky flashback-and-forward structure in the mistaken belief that a non-sequential structure must somehow equal art. (There’s a nice bit of side business with one of the bank robbers who just happens to be a massive Van Damme fan as he talks Jean-Claude’s ear off about how John Woo screwed his career after Hard Target.) But wait, that bear’s got one more trick up it’s clown sleeve, which comes in the form of a show-stopping monologue delivered straight to the camera near the end, where Van Damme essentially apologises to his fans for being such a fuckup. It stops the movie dead of course because there’s no way it can recover, but to call it surprising doesn’t even begin to address how utterly fuck-boggled I was watching it. It’s like the bear stopped riding the unicycle and instead performed a soliloquy from Richard III and then lit himself on fire.
Mitigated By?
I wish I could recommend this to normal people, but the truth is there’s about fifteen minutes of awesome wrapped around a mediocre flick. On the other hand, if you’ve seen Bloodsport more than once all the way through on purpose, then this is an absolutely essential rental. Dude really hates John Woo, though.
* Surprise!
** To the point where he rips off Pulp Fiction’s title font for the end credits. Those cheeky Belgians.
