Some 90’s ass s***.

First of all, not a single person pictured on this movie poster (Catherine Keener, Liev Schreiber, and Anne Heche) resembles anything close to how they appear in the movie. When was this promo shot taken? When did Liev Schreiber ever have hair like Christian Slater? Are we sure that even is Anne Heche? This poster doesn’t represent the actors or the plot.

Not that there is much of a plot. That is, there isn’t really a reason for anything to happen. It’s not a bad thing, there just isn’t some tragedy that sets of a string of events that radically changes everyone’s life (with the exception of poor Mr. Jeans). You’re just sort of watching people exist. The first 10-20 minutes or so of this movie made me think about Clerks, and I’m sure there is an abundance of other quirky 90’s films made around this same time that carry the same people-watching vibe. Of course, it helps if the characters are interesting and/or likable. Were Amelia (Keener) or Laura (Heche) those things? Amelia more so than Laura, for sure, but that could be residuals from my crush on Keener in Being John Malkovich. Maxine Lund FTW.

Not that either of them are downright terrible. Amelia and Laura were life-long pals, and roommates until presumably very recently, when Laura moves out to be with her boyfriend, leaving Amelia and Mr. Jeans behind. Life happens, the two best friends sometimes take each other for granted, sometimes they keep secrets, or say things without thinking. That’s really the whole movie. Perfectly normal people (as normal as characters portrayed by the lovely Keener and Heche could be).

As for their male counterparts, Bill, played by Kevin Corrigan, is a magnificent human, and I was absolutely thrilled when things worked out differently for him than I expected. All the male characters in this film are puppy dogs, but the heartbreak they suffer isn’t inflicted upon them with malice or evil. Things like this just happen to you when you’re 20-something, fairly normal, and navigating dating. Who can’t relate to that?

There were three occasions in this film where I though for sure that these two ladies were about to break girl code, but it never happened. I guess that makes the film seem like a drag, but it really just made me root for them harder. I found myself liking each of them more as the film went on. Amelia was more interesting than Laura, I think because her arc is more fleshed out. Amelia and Andrew (Schreiber) are exes that have become genuine friends, but there is also a Rob Gordon/High Fidelity vibe between them. Amelia can’t figure out why Andrew broke up with her and why Bill won’t call her back, and those dilemmas were my favorite parts of the film.

Laura’s arc happens way too fast, and it doesn’t even start until halfway through the film. Once Laura gets engaged, her fiance seems to instantly start disliking her, and the disdain is mutual, but we never see what changes between them. They just start hating the same things they liked about each other before.

Spoiler alert: There is a happy ending.

I just had to go see this film, the absolute pro wrestling nerd inside of me required it. This one will be brief, but I have much to say.

Somehow, they took guys like Jeremy Allen White and Zac Efron and made them uglier than the actual Von Erichs. For reference, let me provide you this:

For those of you who don’t know which brother is which, let me help. The dude on the far right of both photos is Kerry Von Erich (portrayed Jeremy Allen White). The dude with the “Superior 47” jersey in the left photo is David Von Erich (portrayed by Harris Dickinson), who is standing front and center in the photo of the actual guys. Zac Efron (Kevin Von Erich) is the dude on the left in the original photo. The old bastard in the back is their father, Fritz Von Erich, who is embodied in the film by Holt McCallany, and is by far the closest rendition of any of their real-life counterparts.

Next, let’s talk about the other wrestler portrayals. Kevin Anton portrays Harley Race, and does a pretty admirable job. Harley wasn’t a bad talker, necessarily, but sometimes he seemed to zone out mid-sentence, and was pretty wooden. Anton nails it.

Then, we come to Aaron Dean Eisenberg’s performance as Ric Flair. I am quite certain that this actor has never watched a single, solitary second of any Ric Flair promo. It wasn’t even close. Eisenberg’s imitation was so awful that it pulled me out of the film. He seemed more like King Slender from the Nintendo Entertainment System video game. You might be saying, well, King Slender was based on Ric Flair, but King Slender is what happens when you can’t get the rights to Ric Flair’s actual likeness. The performance is so terrible that it almost feels like Eisenberg is lampooning Flair. How on Earth this got past director Sean Durkin is a mystery to me. Absolutely horrendous. Once again, I can only presume that neither Durkin nor Eisenberg have ever actually seen Ric Flair talk, but that makes me angry, because if you haven’t, you shouldn’t be making a film about pro wrestling.

Then again, this film isn’t necessarily about pro wrestling. It’s a film about a band of literal brothers who happen to be pro wrestlers, who have tragedy visited upon them. The story is told through the eyes of Kevin Von Erich, the “oldest” Von Erich brother (quotations needed, but no spoilers here). The story was familiar to me, so I have some bones to pick with the order of the story and the omission of one Von Erich brother entirely. I think maybe Durkin inadvertently did Chris Von Erich a favor by leaving him out (or more accurately, combining him with Mike), because the story was made to seem like it all took place within 3 weeks. Kevin’s baby remains an infant throughout the film (save for the very end), and Kerry’s motorcycle accidentIf is impossibly misrepresented. Not only is the timeline wrong, but his massive traumatic wound heals before the scraps and cuts on his body. The film also neglects to mention that Kerry’s injury was hidden from the public by Fritz. Lance Von Erich is pictured ( played by MJF, of all people), but is never mentioned or explained.

I cannot recommend this film to anyone who isn’t already familiar with the story of the Von Erichs, because you will not see so many of the important parts of the story that really made Kevin an absolutely gut-wrenching sympathetic figure. If you are already familiar, this film might make you roll your eyes, or physically angry.

If you are curious about the Von Erichs and WCCW, I cannot recommend highly enough the Federation-produced Triumph & Tragedy of World Class Championship Wrestling. Peep that out on Peacock right now, watch The Iron Claw afterwards.

Created with the blessing of Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell (so much blessing, in fact, that the pair signed on as executive producers), Evil Dead Rise does rise, indeed, to the standard set by its predecessors.

The first thing that struck me was how faithful director Lee Cronin was to the style established by Raimi in the original trilogy of films. The first-person view from something buzzing through the woods shows up right away, but is also turned immediately on its ear in a way that pleased this viewer. One particularly cool scene is viewed through an apartment door peephole, and is a perfect homage to Cheryl Williams (the girl in the basement from 1981). The fast-twitch, video game style is very present, although Cronin does not attempt humor nearly as much as Raimi.

Yeah, this movie is pretty dark. There are subtle shout-outs to Ashley Williams, the series’ original putzy hero,with a few one-liners spread throughout the film, but Beth (played by Lily Sullivan) is not some arrogant, accidental conqueror. Both protagonists are reluctant heroes, but Beth is a tragic and sympathetic figure, with a real-life problem far more complex than any the aspirational (in a horny, Schwarzenegger-esque way) Ash Williams faces prior to opening the Necronomicon.

Watching any film in the Evil Dead family should come with an expectation to see some very over-the-top, creative executions. This film delivers them, in absolute abundance. Buckets of them. In the initial press run for the film, director Cronin stated that his tombstone will now have to come with an engraving of a cheese grater. I’ll let that statement marinate with you.

Alyssa Sutherland continues the recent run of sinewy female leads in horror films (I was reminded of Toni Collette in Hereditary), and she fit right in with Cheryl Williams and Betsy Baker as the female Deadite of primary concern.

Apparently, there can never be an internet community without toxic members, and the Evil Dead franchise is not spared. There seems to be some minor backlash around the casting of Morgan Davies, as if any normal or decent person has any time to actually be bothered about things like that. I never would have even known Morgan Davies was a trans male unless the right-wing incel community pointed it out. Too much time on their hands. He does a great job in this film.

Not all 9’s out of 10 are created equal. If I give this film a 9, that doesn’t mean it is up there battling it out as film royalty with Pulp Fiction or Boogie Nights. It just means that as horror films go, this one hit the sweet spot for me. If Evil Dead and its successor are perfect 10s of horror, this one is nipping at their heels. Rise is right there with Dead Alive in the gore department. I will indulge in repeated views, and I especially cannot wait to show it to someone who hasn’t seen it before. Fantastic. Long live Evil Dead.

Citizen Kane. Scarface. Boogie Nights. Reservoir Dogs. The Usual Suspects. Elephant Parts.

According to this fool, all of the above-mentioned movies are absolute cinematic gold. It would not be hard to find a consensus about these films within the general film-watching population. Each one is widely regarded, depending on the generation you claim, as a beacon of filmmaking excellence, save one. Orson Welles, Al Pacino, Paul Thomas Anderson, Bryan Singer, and Quentin Tarantino are revered names amongst aficionados and the strictly-popcorn-movie types. Michael Nesmith, creator of Elephant Parts, is largely ignored and often maligned, due in large part to his participation in the excellent-in-every-way Monkees television series. I am here to vindicate his glorious film, and others. This is a task that should not be necessary, as these films speak magnificently for themselves, but in a world where people love Coldplay and vote for Ted Cruz, popular taste cannot always be accounted for.

Not every film that ever gets made needs to be Citizen Kane or The Avengers: Infinity War. There is room, or at least used to be and ought to be again, for quirky little movies that don’t mean much. “Oscar bait” or “blockbuster” are not our only two choices. Many movies get released with the intent of becoming one of those, fail on both counts, and still endure as classics decades later. Many more are relegated to the dustbin of cinematic history, panned by critics, ignored by moviegoers, and treated as pariahs or mistakes even by the stars and creators, themselves. Every once in a while, those movies rebound and become cult classics, so bad they’re good. Sometimes, the creators of those films stand by their work, stubbornly and righteously. I have made a list of films that I love that are, by popular account, “bad”. These are the films that were never intended to be There Will Be Blood, although some were intended to be blockbusters. I will vigorously defend them and explain, in various amounts of detail, why negative opinions about these films are wrong:

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (1978)

Produced by Robert Stigwood, the brains behind Grease, which was released to theaters just a month prior to this beautiful film, it eventually became known as “Stigwood’s Folly”. Robin Gibb, Bee Gee and co-star, said when asked that, “it was the best of times, we had the worst of films.”

With all due respect to a Brother Gibb, I must whole heartedly disagree. This movie shines as a beacon of circus pastels and 1970’s excess. The plot has been criticized as “flimsy” at best, “non-existent” at worst, but it un-ironically serves as a social critique on capitalism and teaches us that truly, there is no place like home.

Obviously, the musical source material is top-notch. While we could certainly live without George Burns’ rendition of “Fixing a Hole”, or the weird robotic effects placed on the Bee Gees’ angelic harmonies during “She’s Leaving Home”, the notion that there are no good renditions on this album is absolutely insane. My folks owned this double-album soundtrack on vinyl, and I wore it out completely, listening to it over and over again in my living room, reenacting the film as Barry Gibb’s character in between repeated viewings. I studied it intently. I love everything about it. Diane Steinberg was my first crush, and no one on Earth was cooler, or ever will be, than Barry Gibb or Steven Tyler were in this film.

Steve Martin’s maniacal Dr. Maxwell, and his performance of “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”, was my first introduction to his comedic style. If you are a fan of Steve Martin, and why wouldn’t you be, you will be thoroughly entertained by his romp through the song, climaxing in a lightsaber fight with Peter Frampton, except they’re using 9 irons. If this description doesn’t sound like absolute gold and convince you to watch this film, I don’t understand you or what you think is fun.

Speaking of cool, the first time I saw Aerosmith perform “Come Together” on a stage built of giant coins and dollar bills with Steven Tyler’s face on them, I was 100 percent sold. As FVB (Future Villain Band), they set out to poison young minds, and it totally worked on me. The level of dark, druggy cool exuded by the band is the measuring stick by which all things cool are judged. See for yourself:

The juxtaposition between this part of the film and the rest of the brightly-colored kaleidoscope of silliness it is on the whole is mind-bogglingly weird, and weird is good.

The versions herein of “A Day in the Life” (Bee Gees), “Got To Get You Into My Life” (absolutely lit aflame by Earth, Wind, and Fire) and Alice Cooper’s “Because” are all positively awesome.

People need to relax. The movie isn’t meant to be some artistic tribute to the Beatles. It’s a comedy starring musicians that can’t act playing music. It’s vaudeville. Don’t let snobs ruin your fun shitting all over this film. It’s glorious.

Elephant Parts

About this Michael Nesmith guy I mentioned earlier. A true renaissance man was he. Known as the “serious” Monkee, he also had a reasonably successful music career post-Monkees with his First National Band. Elephant Parts was a precursor to a television show called Television Parts and a television channel you might have heard of, MTV. Saying Elephant Parts was maligned may not be entirely fair, as the film won the first ever Grammy for Music Video Production. Still, as a staunch Nesmith acolyte, it is my duty to spread the word of this fantastic little film.

Calling it a film at all is using the term liberally. Nesmith wanted it to be a vehicle for his concept of the music video. This isn’t to say no one had ever made music videos before, but Nesmith wanted to elevate the form into short story films, not just shots of the bands performing the music. He made videos for four of the tracks off his record Infinite Rider and the Big Dogma, interspersed them with skits (lousy with drug references and more than a little indebted to his time with the Monkees), and voila, Elephant Parts was born.

I daresay, this is the greatest opening sequence in the history of film:

It just gets better from there. This film has become a part of my vocabulary: I order marghen greetas for my wife’s fire, have bonded with strangers over their knowledge of the Pirate Alphabet, and remain ever vigilant not to succumb to a 50’s Fit:

Please watch this “movie” in its entirety.

Dead Alive

An elementary schoolchild’s vision of a gory horror movie, Dead Alive is almost a fart joke. This film is gross. It has more in common with the Evil Dead franchise than with Saw or other uncomfortable, torture porn horror flicks; the level of blood and guts is purposely absurd. It does not strive for realism, it literally oozes and gushes. It’s revolting, it’s nauseating, and it kicks ass for the Lord.

Directed by Peter Jackson in the 1980s, before he was a nerd darling who got his hands on Middle Earth, Dead Alive is what the nerds were actually watching. At least, it’s what I was watching. I am mystified that not only did my folks let me rent it, they watched it along with me, laughing and cringing the whole way. This movie lit a fuse for me, I had to get more of its ilk, but nothing has been able to scratch that itch in quite the same way. I feel like I never hear anything about this movie, which is a crime. It doesn’t seem to be available to stream and never gets mentioned in conversations about horror films or Peter Jackson. Not that I would stick around for a conversation about Peter Jackson. Movies like the previously mentioned Evil Dead series and Return of the Living Dead come close, but this one is singular in its gallons of fluid. It just hits the spot. Dead Alive scores a mere 54% on Metacritic, proving that the self-appointed gatekeepers actually have awful taste.

Moonwalker

Michael Jackson. People try to front, but we all know that your record crate or CD rack sports his entire catalogue (at least up through Dangerous). I do not try to front; my admiration for MJ goes back to the mid-80’s, when the first compact disc I ever owned, that was MINE, was gifted to me for Xmas of 1987 in the form of Bad. Prior to that, I had Thriller on vinyl. I was and am a Michael Jackson fan.

This piece of straight-to-video glory came to my attention when I was home sick with the flu. My mom went to the local video store to rent a few films for me to watch while I nursed back to health, and found this gem. She knew the assignment. Oh man, I was as pumped as a little sick kid could be! Only Michael Jackson could make a proper film in which the entire plot is “celebrate the excellence of Michael Jackson.” The opening strain of MJ dancing across the screen was like medicine for me, and I felt better up until the “my heart is as big as Texas…” scene with the vertigo-inducing effects. I got a little woozy there.

That subsided again when MJ showed off his powers of transformation. First, he was a claymation rabbit running from the paparazzi. Then, he turned into a Lamborghini and ran from Joe Pesci. Next, in an absolute coup de grace’ to my nine year-old brain, he transformed into a giant, laser-shooting robot and blew Joe Pesci up.

Somehow, the most mind-blowing part was still to come. I thought it was over. MJ defeats Frankie LiDeo (a twist on the name of MJ’s real-life manager, Frankie DiLeo), reunites with his friends, and finds his lucky star. I had no idea I was about to be treated to a moment so personally glorious, I was convinced MJ put it in his film just for me. He obviously knew. He threw it back to FVB and my life came full circle at the ripe old age of nine:

I was cured! I looked at my mom in disbelief. This was absolute serendipity. I rewound the tape and watched the whole movie again.

In the current day, I have shared the glory of this movie and MJ with my kiddos. My daughter knows the words to “Man in the Mirror” because of this film. My son pretends to turn into a robot and has his own Billie Jean hat. Moonwalker is part of the zeitgeist.

So, there you have it. I can only assume you’ve already made plans to see these films. If not, lame. Please let me know what movies you love that other seem to hate or just can’t appreciate. I will give it a shot. Maybe I’ll make a part two and share more of my films and make the case for yours. Until then… Be excellent to each other and party on, dude.