Moving McAllister

Let me start by saying, The Plow you owe me $24. The breakdown goes like this; $2 for the rental of this tepid piece of refuse, $2 for the late fee on The Ice Rink because I used up time that I could have been watching that, on this drivel. And I would pay myself for two hours of work at the rate of $10 per hour. This seems fair to me, for dragging me through this sad use of celluloid. My apologies to all, but I needed to get that straightened out immediately.

Before I start my review of this "film" I want to also make clear that I think that it is a crime that The Plow didn't hang in there and finish this one because if he had he would have laid waste to this movie and we would have some truly hilarious and inspired commentary from him. But life is what it is and now I will do my best to help clarify my position.

The most alarming aspect of this movie is that the way that it unfolds. There is the usual outline of the lovable, flappable, and sincere protagonist thrown together with the nightmare personality to make a thin watery cocktail that makes up the bulk of the plot. This is topped off with a paper umbrella in the form of a loose canon that is supposed to be the contemporary version of an impromptu life coach. All this is wrapped in the obligatory overly simplistic bending of the space-time continuum. This formula has become a standard for Hollywood.



Let me now break down this fiasco. The meal of light romantic comedic fare starts with the first course in the form of our lead (Rick) being introduced by none other than Rutger Hauer (McAllister). Hauer is someone whose career has gone in some strange directions and it appears it is now about paying for the lifestyle he has become accustomed to. He makes a brief appearance as a safe version of the Hitcher, and then is on his way to the bank. Here is an amazing talent that has executed a number of his roles magnificently, but à la DeNiro and Nicholson he has become a caricature of himself. He's a force in the film world strong enough that people just want to syphon off a taste of his personality.





The entirety of this overly simplistic plot is hinged on the good looking but goofy Rick trying desperately to realize his dream of becoming a partner in a large law firm by interning while he studies for the bar exam. Years of hard work culminate into this, what appears the defining moment in his career. He accepts the ridiculous task of becoming a transporter for McAllister, the man who has the key to his dream. In his eagerness to please his potential boss, he pantingly agrees to move his young niece Michelle (played by Mila Kunis of that "70s Show" fame) across the country, despite the fact that he has to cram for the bar exam, which is five days away. So begin the hijinks. Many comedic obstacles are quickly thrown in his path but none as large as when he arrives at the pick-up point to collect the "package."

Our antagonist and inevitable love interest is an unlikely mishmash of a completely self-absorbed nightmare and an "enlightened free spirit." She treats our hero with an air of superiority, but it's easy to "let go" when you don't have anything to hold onto in the first place. This is the sort of unbelievable character that has become standard fare at the box office and it's a sad commentary on where our values have ended up. Right off the bat, this annoying combo becomes an unbearable duo, since we know the outcome of this rice paper plot. She basically tortures this guy through a combination of her narcissistic outlook on life and just plain malice. Heavy words, I know, but if you distill this character this is the resulting libation. The interactions of these two characters ebb and flow throughout the film as they run into one wacky turn for the worse after another. Whilst the clock ticks.

Thrown into the mix of all this "zany fun" is indie heartthrob John Heder (Napoleon Dynamite) ambling in as the "spiritual" accomplice of the aforementioned nightmare. This is the section of the film I feel that The Plow could really sink his teeth into and that I find the most disheartening and worrisome. The unrealistic comedic happenings that ensue multiply with Heder on the set and so do vapid reflections of the nature of the universe. Spirituality is used to sell tickets here, and proves nothing is sacred in Hollywood. This supposed insightful farce posing as a whimsical look at the journey of the soul compelled me to write this lengthy review rather than leaving it at one paragraph.

By the end of this, our poor spineless nothing of a human gives up years of hard work, a sizable financial investment, not to mention a lifelong dream, to be with someone that is so unstable and self centered, that right up until a minute or so before the end credits roll she is "playfully" beating him. Then it is off into the sunset arm in arm, previous life goals be damned. Thankfully though, this train wreck of a movie is one you can turn away from, which is exactly what The Plow did.

-Bitter

First off I want to personally thank director Andrew Black for making this movie. Due to you I have learned things I may never have taken the time to learn. Let me explain.

My lady and I had put on some bullshit DVD and one of the previews was for the movie “Moving McAllister” .So I thought “hmm that might be a little bit of brainless escapism” so I put it on the netflix and proceeded to forget of the movie’s existence. Then one rainy northwestern day I opened the mailbox to find “Moving McAllister” awaiting my review. The film stars celebrity heart throb Jon Heder who has won the world over with his brilliant portrayal of a reality deprived x generation nerd retard who you could easily picture being a major player in the plushie scene.
I will say it right now, “moving McAllister” moved me, within ten minutes of the film I was moved to get off my fat ass and shut the fucking T.V. off in order to do something productive with my night. It takes a very special film to make you realize how fucking pathetic you are for wasting your time watching such garbage. In my bitter distaste and contempt for “Camera 40 Productions” who released this drivel I couldn’t even put on another movie, it had turned my stomach bitter to the taste of T.V.
So instead I picked up a book I had checked out of the local library about Yup’ik masks.






The Yup’ik are a people from southwestern Alaska who have a long rich tradition of making extravagant hand crafted ceremonial masks. I mean some of these pieces could be in a contemporary art museum. There were a couple pieces that reminded me of some masks coming out of the European DADA movement. I know that MATTA was a big admirer of “primitive art” and you can see how this influenced his work. I am sure like MATTA, there are a vast number of contemporary artist consistently raping and foraging the artistic styles of these primitive people just as the white man has literally been raping and foraging them since his arrival in the new world.

I now feel like I have a little more understanding for these native people as thanks to Mr. McAllister I to had just been raped by the white mans greed . I began to wonder, what if the Yup’ik people made a road trip movie and what would it be like. Maybe Hollywood should get their heads out of each others buttholes and give some funding to the people who put the crazy in crazy horse. I mean can you imagine the kind of hi jinx a bunch of young single Yup’ik studs cruising across the country would get into, I mean what would Bogeyakuk’s first strip bar experience be like, or beaver Nunakauyaq’s transvestite encounter.

Well you can keep your bullshit Hollywood rehash. As for me, I’ll be at the library awaiting the release of “Moving Bogeyakuk”

-Plow

The Charade

Charade:

A classic example of what happened to a Hitchcock film when it wasn't made by Hitchcock. Shot in 1963, four years after Cary Grant's turn with Eva Marie Saint in North by Northwest

It's not that Charade is a bad film but it seems to be a good example of Hollywood trying to be too many types to appeal to the widest audience possible. Which makes it a little to long and without a good solid rhythm throughout. If it was just a straight thriller then the comedy that drags that part of it down would have never been in place to start with. If it was a comedy then the suspense portion would have only been used as a set up for the various gags that take place in the film. If it was a romance then both the suspense and the comedy would have been the framework for the lead characters initial meeting and subsequent adventures. Cary Grant for example is an actor with a fair amount of range and his comedic side works great as the fast talking and self entitled Madison Avenue ad man in North by Northwest. It does not slow down or burden the momentum of the thriller at all but instead adds dimension to the character as he makes his way through what are really a comedy of errors cleverly disguised as a fast pace and suspenseful film. The film knows what it is and only uses other techniques as garnishes to enhance the flavor. Charade seems to have no idea of what it is and we are left with what could have been a stellar film comes across as nothing more than slightly entertaining. I chose this poster of the many that were made to show how confused the makers of this film were. Here you have the two main characters running for what appears to be their lives and then an inset smiley PR photo right next to them. It is obvious that these two had amazing box office pull and that maybe this film was made with just that in mind.




Which brings up Audrey Hepburn. Here is a funny attractive and somewhat talented star that defines this era of American cinema. She is in one moment sassy, funny, cute, smart, heartbreaking, witty, pathetic, savvy, quick on her feet and ridiculous. All of these are great except that similar to Grant and the rest of the film it just gets confusing and hard to get your teeth sunk into. I found it very hard to care about the ultimate fates these characters due to the fact that the while I was trying to sign on to their plight I was being distracted by all sorts of other foolishness. This is a film where there is a whole lot of money, violence, deceit, and heartbreak are the center of attention. Probably not a place that you think one would find goofy comedic gags and sappy romance but there they are in force.


Like I said not a bad film but one that you may in the end wonder why you endured for so long or why you were never quite pushed to the point of pulling the trigger on it.

-Bitter MacGregor









So when Bitter told me he reviewed "The Charade" I rolled my eyes, asked the wall "why the fuck did he review that?" and then I reserved it from the Library.

I love the Library. I know I'm not supposed to capitalize Library, but I love it so much I do it anyway. Since I was home schooled, I often change the rules of english just like I often change the rules of math, so I'm Constantly capitalizing things i Shouldn't be. So normally, when I reserve a non new release from the P.L. (public Library) it arrives at my local branch in no time at all. For some stupid reason, there were all these slackers out there who also had reserved "The Charade" and I had to wait almost 2 flipin weeks. I was amazed. To give you an example, when I reserved "Die Hard 2" and "The Karate Kid Trilogy" it took like 2 days. Why were the people of Seattle wanting to see this movie? Was it really good? Were they also writing movie blogs and their friends were making them watch stupid films? The only way to find out was to get a job at the big "L" and hack into the Library system. Unfortunately they refused my application. This was Yet Another downfall of being Home schooled.

The movie finally arrived and I walked down to my local Bibliotech to pick it up. When I grabbed it off the reserve shelf I glanced at the cover and 2 things baffled me. For starters it was a Criterion Collection edition. I had always been under the impression that the suits at Criterion had some sort of standards and practices and weren't swayed by studio pay offs and back door touchy feely sessions. Secondly, the cover art was making it look like a James Bond film and the feeling in my loins was telling me this hotdog wasn't a ballpark. I went up to the librarian and asked her "what the fuck is up with this shit?", she told me my language was inaproppriate and I would have to leave the Library immediately. So I left, not wanting to make too much of a fuss since I'm there everyday and I can't afford to be blacklisted from the Library. It does sound pretty cool to be blacklisted from the Library, as if I were a revolutionary writer or a porn king. So being the good little home schooled boy I am, I went home and watched "The Charade."

Now I could of written a review without ever having watched this film (I hear a lot of the fat cat review boys do that all the time) but no, I sat down and pioneered through every last frame.

I do not know the exact length of "The Charade" but I believe it's somewhere in the neighborhood of eight hours long. It's the type of movie I'm sure my Grandpa loved, 50 years ago on a sunday when he was drunk and high on pain killers. As Bitter already pointed out, the movie jumps from a spy film to a zany episode of "Rowan and Martin's Laugh In" with the actors spitting out their lines in awkward uniformity. Remember when you were just a kid and you and your friend were trying to convince your friend's older sister into taking off her clothes for some dumb experiment you invented just to get her to strip for you? Well the movie dialogue is delivered in the same unconvincing fashion and the outcome is also very similar, disappointing. Needless to say, this film has seen it's heyday and that heyday is long gone, so don't expect to be seeing any boobies.


-Plow

Casino Royale

Casino Royale:

Bond is back! I loved the simple visceral violence and on the spot ingenuity that this bigger than life spy brings to the game.

I am a die hard 007 fan being weened on the original Sean Connery version as a youth and as my dismay about the direction that the franchise was going sank to new depths I found myself drifting from the alter of Ian Flemming. By the time my good friend and I witnessed the ice boat in, err... I can't even remember which Pierce Brosnan version it was... we just stared at each other in our theater seats in bewilderment, giving up our beloved super spy for lost.

Well I am here to tell you that my faith has been solidly restored. All of the usual trappings were in place; sex, violence, exotic locales, cool cars, and nonstop adrenaline fuel mayhem at every turn. But this Bond was stripped back. Most of the silly gadgets and cheesy dialogue was done away with. And while these has been a big part of the whole party since the beginning it was refreshing that these were used with some judicious discretion in C.R. It felt like the familiar MI6 but with several moments taken right out of the Bourne playbook. It was grand scale but did not feel burdened by the top heavy extravagances that so many of the previous versions suffered from. It is a lean fast moving tale that will leave you satiated just enough to be salivating for more.

I was very skeptical of Daniel Craig taking on the job. I thought Clive Owen was a shoe in but all the images of a waxed chested sex symbol rising from crystal blue Caribbean waves were washed away before the title sequence even commenced. Daniel Craig is Bond and hopefully it will be a long an fruitful union. The sheer athleticism, brutality, and quick witted cleverness of this new agent is a sight to behold. And although there are many familiar aspects to our hero we are treated to a few new twists that we have not seen coded into 007's makeup previously.

Shot deftly the film does not rely as heavily on the Michael Bay and Paul Greengrass machine gun blast of short edits to enhance the action sequences. It is a return again to a simpler time when a shot was composed on set and only enhanced in the editing suite. The opening act alone is constructed of a mixture of fast action closeups and long panoramic views are spliced together to create one of the most thrilling and destructive film clips in movie history. It is here that you get a real sense of the new Bond returning to the old ways of making it happen on the spot with out a lot of fluff. And it only gets better. I am reminded of look and feel of Ronin. Not a great film but one of my favorites for it's return to the old days of action cinema. Stuntmen and pyrotechnics were the order of the day and CGI was virtually nonexistent as far as I could tell.

There are many other pieces to this latest venture that make it so refreshing. One of my favorites is that the women who face of with Bond are not just there as decoration, to be condescended to or seduced. Bond has not come so far as to ingratiate himself to the feminists of the world I am sure but of the few female characters that appear across from him most of them hold there own and then some. Judy Dench is particularly enjoyable as M. And Eva Green's role as Vesper Lynd has a fair amount of depth.

The Aston Martin is revisted and there are a number of familiar bits and pieces from the vaults of MI6 but it is all woven together with the fresh new face of the contemporary Bond in a fun and thrilling joy ride through carnage, chaos, and hails of gun fire that will leave you with a smile. We will see if they can keep it up in next chapter, Quantum of Solace.

-Bitter MacGregor

If I was captured by some evil overlord and forced to have sex with one of the men who have played James Bond, I would have to choose Daniel Craig. I mean, explosions, hot boobs and storyline aside, you have to admit that Mr. Craig is very fuckable.
Unlike the Bonds of the past, I feel the direction this new Bond has taken is to try and give straight men a homo erection. I mean think about it. They get you all excited with bullets to the head, big fuck off explosions, brains splattering everywhere, hot married chick seduction, more explosions and then all of a sudden you get hot shaven man chest and whammy, where the hell did that little fella come from?
Don’t feel ashamed if you have the sudden urge to rub one out with your greasy popcorn hand. It’s perfectly natural in a Freudian kind of way. I’m sure a lot of you out there have been molested in the past and unexplained sexual urges aren’t foreign, so just go with it. Remember, they set you up with all that manly foreplay. It isn’t your fault.
In short, no matter what you learn about yourself, this movie is a must see, as in, you must see it. The new film has just come out and I can’t wait to see what my new friend Mr. Craig does next. I even have special rubber gloves for the occasion.

- The Plow

The Incredibles

The Incredibles:

Hands down the best Pixar film yet and for those who are familiar with the collection of animated features and shorts this studio has created this statement means a lot.

I've seen all of the shorts and features that Pixar has made with the exception of Cars. Pixar from the beginning been able to create animated features that cater to adults as well as teens and young children. This approach and skill should not be underestimated. I have viewed most of these films in the theater and you can see the entire audience digesting them through various filters. The Incredibles does this in spades and back again. On top of this achievement is the amazing fact that it is a genre film. Superheros have always been animated but only recently have been enjoyed by anyone but a proportionally tiny slice of the world's movie audience.

The movie succeeds by creating the perfect recipe of a solid story, in depth character development, amazing animation with overtime put into the details on every level, not stop action, and most importantly the inclusion human relationships which is really in my mind the root of the whole tale. Through clever maneuvering they have drawn an amazing range of people including those who only watch animated features occasionally to those that ignore the medium entirely. This feat above all is the most memorable in a film that is made of amazing feats and indelible memories. You don't have to break out the twelve year old in you to fully embrace this one.

-Bitter Macgregor









I love cartoons, the more disturbing and fucked up the better. It takes a very special cartoon to hold my attention without showing a mouse’ journey through a guy’s ass hole or saying “shit” every other word. Well this movie went the distance and made me happy, happy, happy.
I have a retarded soft side that believes the world is a wonderful place to live in and “The Incredibles” is a movie that reassures that retard. The good guys win, families stick together, 100’s of millions of people aren’t suffering in lives that have no sign of hope due to some evil dictator we put in power so we could have cheaper jeans.
This movie makes one think that “yes I to can be a stand up citizen, a role model to my children, a white upper class American meathead who shits on the cultures of the world”. The only way you can relay these kinds of ideas without seeming entirely “family movie of the week” is in a fun action packed cartoon movie.
So grab your kids before they become dick sucking drug addicted crack fiends and sit down on the couch for a family fun adventure in escapism.

-The Plow

The Machinist

The Machinist:

When I describe this film to people I use the word clever. It is not a word that I use often to describe what I observe in life, especially not movies. Clever is the perfect word slicing through the mind like a laser.

The film moves at a slow and deliberate tempo which leaves one at ease while witnessing the frantic movements of the protagonist. This balance allows one to sink into mental malaise of the main character without needing to ask to many questions about is actions until well into the second act. By this point the audience has become attached to his well being and it is at this point where the payoff lies.

As I plodded through the daily minutia of the machinist's day I realized that the cinematography was unusually adept. It crept up on me and took me off guard. I attribute this to the fact that I was wholly immersed in the story slowly unfolding before me. The camera work was solid but it was the lighting that grabbed my attention. My usual response to low and directional lighting set ups is that they are too heavy handed but most of the scenes here had a top tier noir feeling to them in there subtle nature. The light was harsh and uninviting creating the desired effect in a the viewer but it was also painterly in it's sophistication and depth.

I woke up to how well it was shot about a half hour into the film and to the amazing craft of the writing, directing, and acting just after the halfway mark. It snuck up on me and for that I am pleased for rarely does a film do so.

I have been a big fan of Brad Anderson since I saw Next Stop Wonderland, another mild tempo and deliberate story. I was unaware until I started watching that he was the director. His ability to lay down a tale that digs into the heart of who we are as beings is amazing. I watched some of the behind the scenes footage and he seems to still be every bit the independent director that he was back in his fledgling days. He appeared to be very hands on, which comes through in the look and feel of the film. Christian bale was his usual insane self transforming into a mere shadow of his former self. When you see him you will not believe that the now box office sensation, Bruce Wayne, would go through the lengths that he goes through to convey his character's plight. It is rumored that he wanted to go even further but Anderson intelligently shut the idea down.

I watched this film not having any idea what I was getting into and I suggest that if you can do the same you will not regret it. One of the truly great films of our time comes in a small, quiet, and unassuming package that you will not soon forget.

-Bitter MacGregor

I want to start off by thanking Bitter for choosing such a heartwarming feel good hit for us to review. My soul was starting to feel all warm and cuddly and this film really brought home the dark hen to roost, it has helped to balance out my otherwise sunny funny cotton candy carnival of an existence with a little bit of “hey I just killed your kids”. So thanks a lot Bitter, I owe you one.
The one thing in this movie that sticks out like a cock at a dogfight is Christian Bales portrayal of a concentration camp victim. Mr. Bale (who stars as Trent Reznor, I mean Trevor Reznik) stopped eating for who knows how many months and ends up looking like a dried out lifeless carcass of a man. The other day I was walking around and saw a dried out roadkill, I couldn’t even tell what kind of animal it used to be, it was just mummified skin over bones. Well that hunk o’ death looked like Trevor Reznik.




So there’s this scene were Jennifer Jason Leigh (the whore) is going down on Bale (the Skeletor) and it’s so fucking gross, I mean I love sex scenes they’re usually my favorite part of any movie but when Bale’s meatless body is writhing in sexual anguish it makes me want to puke, as far as anyone knows it’s the closest thing I’ve ever seen to an anorexic Porno and I don’t want to get any closer.

Here’s a movie fun fact.
Did you know the Machinist was filmed entirely outside Barcelona (that’s in Spain for all you morons out there and Spain is in Europe for all you complete idiots). Hey I got an idea, lets make a movie about the gangs of New York and film it in China.


In short, I feel the most outstanding aspect of this film is that ol Christian went the distance and lost 63 pounds for his role. Everyone’s always talking about how DeNiro gained all that weight for raging bull, well there’s a new heavy weight champ in town, well actually he’s a light weight champ, the important thing is his a fucking champ. Christian lost 63 pounds while DeNiro only gained a measly 60. Think about gaining weight for a roll, big fucking deal, you sit on your ass and eat donuts all day, millions of Americans do it everyday for absolutely no other reason than just to be a pathetic lard ass. But to loose 63 pounds, that’s some serious masochistic bulimia bullshit. I'm sure Christian could have just gone down on a couple studio execs to get the Batman role but he didn't, he risked his life for his art and for that sir I salute you.

The film inspired me to write a little song.



When my girlfriend and I finished watching the movie (actually she was running around the house most of the time making these weird felt cactuses) we both responded by saying “that movie was really fucking weird”. Well maybe she didn’t say fucking but I definitely said fucking. That is to say it wasn’t bad, it wasn’t amazing but it was definitely really fucking weird.

-The Plow

American Hardcore

American Hardcore: 

I first saw a sticker on a light pole on Bedford Ave. in Williamsburg and I thought, "They made a documentary of the '80's hardcore punk scene?" This question came to my head because I didn't think there was enough documentation of this period to constitute a film. This thought was combined with the idea that it would be hard to find anyone from then to interview. Then I saw the trailer and the way it was cut made it look heavily west coast biased which is fine but it dampened my initial excitement created by the sticker.

The movie was to my surprise very even handed in its coverage of the country wide movement. I am sure some will say that there are holes but nothing is perfect. I was gripped by a feverish nostalgia while watching it and this should be accounted for when reading my review. I was partially correct in my assumption that there would be little raw material to work with from that time but the director cleverly spread out the little that was available and mixed it with interviews with some of the most influential characters of that time.

The hardcore punk scene was built to destroy itself in a giant ball of flames leaving little trace and few living humans to recount a collision of creativity and destruction that shaped the thought, music, fashion, art, and numerous other aspects of our lives today.

The film lays out the general movement and all of it branches in a concise easy to follow pattern so that even the casual viewer can get a handle on the vast array of scenes that were created out of raw energy fueled by anger and a desire to create.

So grab a six pack, turn up the volume and experience a piece of American history.

-Bitter MacGregor

When I first heard about “American hardcore” like most god fearing patriots I immediately thought of a Crisco laden arm half way up some dude’s ass. Funny story, I’ve actually seen a Crisco laden arm halfway up some dude’s ass, it was in a film called “Horse Fucker”. I watched “Horse Fucker” in my teens and no matter how much alcohol I consumed or drugs I abused those painful visuals can never be erased. I’ve tried meditation, I’ve tried hypnosis but as soon as I hear the words “Horse Fucker” my animated fun land comes to a screeching halt and depraved greasy men take its place.

And who do I have to thank for these memories, who do I have to congratulate for this detour from my promised land, why my elders of coarse. I was but a young innocent simple hearted boy when some derelict college men lured me into their house and forced me to watch the vile filth named “Horse Fucker”. Of coarse they lied to me, they said it was a funny fun film and that I would laugh and laugh and laugh but to my dismay there were only tears.

Then these man bullies told me if I watched it again it would numb me to the dirty pain I felt. So like a fool hearted child I believed them. Over and over again I watched as women made love to sheep and men made love to pigs that made love to sheep that made love to women. I must have seen a thousand arms disappear into a thousands asses only to find the memory permanently stamped into my mind instead of the contrary that was promised me. “There is no god” I screamed, fleeing their house a shattered youth.
All hope and promise was stripped away from me that fateful day and in their stead torment and ridicule have clung to my sorrowful soul.

So children of the world let this be a warning. When the cool older boys down the street beckon you into their abode with promises of visual antics, say to them, “nay is my mind a play thing of yours foul beast” and then run like hell home to your mommies.

-The plow