Aaaaahhhh. Charlton Heston. The man may reside in the George Washington spot on the Mount Rushmore of Unintentionally Funny Performances in Acting. Only William Shatner threatens his primacy, and Bill was in on the joke, while Heston remained gloriously unaware until his last day.

This film was released in 1971, the first one released after Mr. Heston made his transition from historical drama (Ben Hur, The Ten Commandments) to science-fiction (Planet of the Apes). The premise is bonkers: war has broken out between China and the United States, and when the planet is destroyed through chemical warfare, Colonel Robert Neville, M.D. is the lone human survivor. How convenient he is both an army colonel and a medical doctor. Neville rides around in a convertible during the day, carrying a machine gun, siphoning gas (although it isn’t immediately clear why travel is necessary) and “sneaking” into an abandoned movie theater to watch the last movie that was shown during civilization, the concert film Woodstock.

Can I say that the image of Charlton “pry-it-from-my-cold-dead-hands” Heston watching Woodstock is magnificent in its absurdity, a glorious gift of hindsight.

Neville must be home by dark every night, because he is being hunted by an evil cult of infected people who possess no supernatural abilities and have an aversion to technology. They do not succeed in their attempts to capture and sacrifice the heavily-armed Heston.

Heston’s Robert Neville is slightly (or perhaps not-so-slightly) crazed. He talks to himself, he’s deeply paranoid, and he hears phones ringing. I do not know if this insanity was intentional, because it is very Heston, but it does make sense. Heston is impossibly macho in a 1970s, man-of-the-house, whiskey-soaked way. It’s easy to see why a guy like him, very WASPY (“160 proof Anglo-Saxon, baby”, as he nauseatingly refers to his own blood) would be so non-plussed about the disappearance of the rest of humanity. They were all just inconveniences to him, anyway, except when he needed to trade in a convertible for a newer convertible. What some people might call chauvinism, he would just call a clever quip.

Which brings us to Rosalind Cash, the female lead. Wait, there are more humans? Don’t ask. This chick had style, man. Unfortunately, she is saddled with some very dumb lines. At one point, she is handed a gun by Heston and demands to know what it is for, despite the fact that she was holding his ass at gunpoint on the back of a motorcycle 10 minutes earlier. I think I was supposed to find her badass. I found her… not.

Here is Ms. Cash. How did she acquire that opulent necklace and sexy, low-cut silk robe in the middle of a dystopia? I told you: don’t ask. Just drink it in, man.

But wait, I have these, and other questions!

Questions:

• How come this disease killed most people but turned those few into wimpy vampires? Even Robert Pattinson thinks these guys are dorks.
• Wait, this is the biological warfare the Americans were developing?
• Is the cult leader, Mathias, the news anchor from the beginning of the film?
• If this cult is so opposed to the use of the wheel, how did they get the catapult in front of Neville’s building?
• Did this vaccine-expert doctor just have a test tube full of antidote sitting on a desk, at room temperature, in his office?
• Did he just flick that test tube and shout “how the hell should I know?”

This film, it just isn’t good. I didn’t expect it to be on par with Ben-Hur, but hoped it would be at least as good as Soylent Green. While being infected with a disease that turns you into a powerless albino with green eyes doesn’t seem fun at all, I can understand why the evil sect did not want to go back to the world favored by Charlton Heston. At one lull in the action, I had a fleeting notion that guys like Heston, Clint Eastwood, and Ronald Reagan really thought this is how life should be, exceedingly average white guys rescuing us all. Then it occurred to me : this film was made in 1971. I should try not to look at it through a 2023 lens and just enjoy it. Problem is, this film isn’t that enjoyable.

I told myself that if I liked this movie, I would jump forward and watch the Will Smith film, I am Legend, which is based off the same source material. Maybe it is unfair, but after watching this barely entertaining film, I solemnly swear to flush that notion from my mind. Omega Man is a mega turd.

22 years ago, this album came out and changed everything.

Joe Preston is Thrones. Before Joe Preston was Thrones, he was a founding member of drone metal pioneers Earth, and spent 1992 as a member of the Melvins, carrying out 4-string duties on the album Lysol and the DVD release A Salad of One Thousand Delights. After leaving the Melvins (depending on who you ask, he was either kicked out for being lazy and not recognizing how great of an idea the three-album-solo-record set based on the KISS records was, or he was excluded when the Melvins signed with Atlantic because Buzz and Dale didn’t want to share the advance), Joe Preston became Thrones, a one-man stoner metal band. Sperm Whale is actually the combination of two EPs, White Rabbit and Sperm Whale, smashed onto one LP and released in September of 2000. When I heard the record some time in 2001, it completely flipped my lid. It sounded like a continuation of the Melvins’ work on Lysol, and demonstrated how important Preston was to the Melvins’ sound during his time as a member. He would go on to form, or be a part of, bands like Sunn O))), Harvey Milk, High on Fire, Men’s Recovery Project, and the Whip. An absolutely superb lineup of credits, a veritable who’s-who of excellent experimental metal bands. I strongly recommend checking out all of those projects, but I absolutely insist that you take the time to listen to Sperm Whale right now. This is the record that changed it all for me, it is almost solely responsible for convincing me to become the Brown Note, but do not hold that against it.

You’re so very welcome.

Trust me, I don’t want to keep doing this.

It’s just that Rolling Stone Magazine keeps rehashing/revising their “Top 500 Albums of All Time” list. Rolling Stone, the magazine that panned Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith in the 1970s, that could be using their considerable heft and publishing power within the industry to break new bands instead of waxing nostalgic about Fleetwood Mac, and the owner of which, for all intents and purposes, decides who enters the odious Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They should be ashamed of themselves.

That said, anyone who even intermediately calls themselves a fan of music has a soft spot for these sorts of lists. Some may be too hip to admit it, but they are just lying because they are hip. They say they hate it, but they read it so they can shit on it. This is why Rolling Stone keeps publishing it (also because critics take their own opinions too seriously).

There is a 100 percent chance that some of the records that appeared on Rolling Stone’s list will appear on this one, too. There is also a 100 percent chance that many of the albums I yelled at the inanimate pages of said magazine for being overlooked will appear here. There is a 100 percent chance that I will never, ever, wax nostalgic in any way about the horrendous Fleetwood Mac. Spoiler: They will not appear and they will not outrank the Beatles in way, shape or form (which should be evidence of how much better this list is than RS’s).

So, without further adieu, and without the pretense of 500 albums (as if there is really any distinction between, say, nos. 473 and 498), I present the newest, revised-est, hopefully last Top 100 Albums of All Time List:

100) Foo Fighters – Foo Fighters

It would be inaccurate to say that Dave Grohl was not a huge rockstar when this record was released in 1995 (given his previous employment), but he wasn’t touring-around-the-world-on-a-literal-throne-of-guitars huge. It’s easy to look back at this record and wonder WTF happened to the Foos, but when it arrived on the scene, I was positively smitten. I spent so many hours with this album that the cover insert was a mangled mess before it was eventually lost, along with the plastic cover (CDs FTW). I studied the “I’m OK, Eur-Ok” MTV concert intently, “Weenie Beenie” seemed liked the coolest and most cathartic song ever, even if Grohl was the only one who knew the words. “Alone + Easy Target” and “For all the Cows” always made the cut when mixtapes were being assembled. This record begins so perfectly, you can see it. Grohl walks into the room, plugs in, adjusts his volume knob and begins: “visiting is pretty, visiting is good, seems that all they ever wanted was a brother…” and off we go. This album is earnest without being ambitious, fun without being silly. Sigh. What have you become, Foos?

99) Deee-Lite – World Clique

From the global village in the age of communication came Deee-Lite. Deee-Lite was both 20 years behind and ahead of their time. This album would be a guilty pleasure, but there is nothing to feel guilty about. They introduced a certain white, suburban 9 year-old to Bootsy Collins and Q-Tip with “Groove Is In the Heart”, a song which is still defiantly joyous 25 years later. Everyone loves it, and those who don’t are lying. “Try Me On, I’m Very You” was the first song that pissed my parents off, and “E.S.P.” was completely over my head. Lady Miss Kier, I do deeply dig. How do you say Deee-Lite?

98) Weezer – Pinkerton

This is where I must call out some bulls***. If you go to Rolling Stone’s website today and look up the review for this record, you will see that it is rated a five-star masterpiece. I do not disagree; the problem is, they didn’t bother to change the article they originally wrote in 1998. This bit of retconning is shown for the hogwash it is when someone actually reads the review. Writing of “El Scorcho”, the author states that “the song’s infectious chorus proves to be a slim reward,” and says that “Tired of Sex” is “as aimless as the subject’s nightly routine.”

In reality, “Tired of Sex” is one of history’s greatest album openers. Yep, it’s kinda dumb, but rock music is supposed to be dumb. Are “Buddy Holly” or “Undone (The Sweater Song)” super serious artistic statements? “Pink Triangle” and “Across the Sea” are undeniably ranked as nos. 1 and 2 as the best songs ever shouted into the night by a carful of twenty-somethings driving up Highway 17. Do not get confused: This is Weezer’s best record. Ironically, just like the drive home on Highway 17, it was all downhill from here for Weezer, as everything that followed was revoltingly pungent. This (correct) point of view is captured beautifully in a SNL skit that was too accurate to be funny. Leslie Jones FTW.

97) Jackyl – Jackyl

In the throngs of a nation’s obsession with grunge, Jackyl dared to be the raunchiest band with the biggest hair. Jesse James Dupree is an absolutely absurd individual, a prerequisite for the frontman of a band as glorious as Jackyl. The man plays a chainsaw “solo” on stage, in the nude. The band exhausted their entire catalog of quality music on this record, but there is not a single gelding in the bunch. This record is positively loathsome: boobs, beer, and bad behavior are celebrated with joyous disregard for who might be offended. “I Stand Alone” sounds like Guns N’ Roses if Axl didn’t take himself too seriously. “Dirty Little Mind” stands as a rock n’ roll nursery rhyme, guitarist Jimmy Stiff (see?) practically says “neener neener” with his guitar.

“Down On Me” (double entendre alert) is another highlight. I confess that “She Loves My Cock” is too much, even as I celebrate the complete chauvinism this record revels in. I absorbed some very uncomfortable moments when my mother and I unwittingly saw this band live together, opening for Aerosmith. That song is so very cringeworthy that it hurts the overall package. Yep, this record will piss your parents off, but isn’t that what it’s all about? Jackyl was so disgusting that this record was banned from a K-Mart in Georgia, so the band set up a stage outside the store and played the record in its entirety. That kinda puts Jackyl in the same league as the Beatles and Rage Against the Machine, right?

96) Ten Foot Pole – Rev

Epitaph Records was, in the mid 90’s, for me, the tastemaker. Ten Foot Pole was preceded into my psyche by Pennywise, NOFX, and the Offspring, but Rev was the perfect record at the perfect time.

Often, “angsty” is used as a pejorative to describe music that angry young men enjoy, but Ten Foot Pole’s angst was wrapped in a rebellious hope. The music was uplifting and exhilarating. The lyrics to “My Wall” hit me right in the gut; they were the truth. Ten Foot Pole had summed up the suburban struggle that we aren’t allowed to complain about. “Old Man” is nostalgic for a time that we never really experienced, only heard about. “Broken Bubble” starts off with jangly guitar and ends with Ten Foot Pole handing you the script for speaking truth to power. Every song on this record is skate punk 101, but there are interesting musical twists and chord changes that send this album onto a different plane (check out “Final Hours” for a perfect example).

Fun fact: Former Dodgers’ reliever Scott Radinsky (credited as Scott Pulmyfinger) is the vocalist and lyricist in Ten Foot Pole. This certainly had no bearing on my appreciation for the band.

95) Pearl Jam – Vs.

It would be silly to go on too long about Pearl Jam. We all feel a familiarity with the “Seattle Sound” narrative and band incest that produced Pearl Jam. Mother Love Bone, Green River, Mudhoney, Red Hot Chili Peppers (a decidedly non-Seattle band) and Soundgarden all boast of having a Pearl Jam member in their ranks, or springing from the same tree. Eddie Vedder and Co. have outlasted all of the other bands that may have been more famous, original or impactful, and become deservedly respected elder statesmen.

Vs. finds them early on, coming off the massive success of Ten and getting a little nastier. While Ten was atmospheric and anthemic, Vs. was weird and heavy. I’m sure there were many articles written about how Pearl Jam was trying to measure up to Nirvana, but that’s both impossible and a misguided take. Pearl Jam shunned MTV, hardly a move of a band that is trying to court stardom, and created a record full of classics. “Animal” was “Evenflow” drunk on whiskey. PJ was kind enough to write the chords to “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” in the liner notes and inspired 10,000,000 kids to give it a shot. “Rats”, “Rearviewmirror” and “Daughter” are just exactly what you want from Pearl Jam, even if you are sick of “Jeremy”. It would get even weirder with Vitalogy, and then, like Weezer and the Foos before them, it got a bit corny. Vs. is where it all just clicked. They are the mighty Pearl Jam. So mighty, in fact, that their record label has blocked the sharing of their videos.

94) Soul Coughing – El Oso

Soul Coughing vocalist Mike Doughty started off as a music critic. He decided to quit flapping his gums (or dancing his fingers, as it may be) and give it a try, and the results were positively fantastic. I wish I had that in me. Anyway…

“Rolling” is jaunty and haunting simultaneously, huge Casio drones and bass notes mix with a number of beats per minute you’d have to take off running to dance to. “Circles” is a laid-back middle finger to middle management, with one of the coolest guitar riffs (if you can call it that) ever, and a charming music video that I’m pretty sure was exclusive to Cartoon Network. Doughty isn’t a singer and he isn’t a rapper. He’s a guy with a megaphone, expounding outside of city hall, or he’s an unpretentious coffeeshop poet. “Monster Man” calls back to Wings’ Uncle Albert, but sounds like what would have happened if McCartney’s titular character needed to be summoned from the darkness beyond. Just a cool, creative record.

93) Mothers of Invention – We’re Only In It For the Money

Man, Frank Zappa. We need you bad right now.

Imagine having the temerity, in 1969, to lampoon the Beatles. Furthermore, to appear on The Monkees TV show when the glitterati hipsters were just too cool for that. Frank Zappa did it. He also testified in front of Congress in opposition to Tipper Gore’s PMRC (along with Dee Snider of Twisted Sister) and generally disregarded norms of what music or art was supposed to be… Which is what music and art are supposed to be.

We’re Only In It For the Money is definitely an album that contains music, but it’s really so much more. It’s a blueprint for not giving a f*** and being so good at it that no one can give you any s*** about it. “Who Needs the Peace Corps” contains the lyrics “every town must have a place where phony hippies meet/psychedelic dungeons popping up on every street,” and Zappa takes the piss out of not just the hippies, but the cops, too. “What’s The Ugliest Part of Your Body?“ is a 63-second anthem to the modern American, both in 1969 and 2022. The whole record seems put together in pieces, like the band had a bunch of cool snippets of songs that they weren’t sure what do with, but that is selling Zappa short. He definitely knew what the hell he was doing, and seemed to revel in others not getting it. Frank Zappa was a savant and a prophet. Bow your head.

92) Nirvana – Nevermind

It’s likely that this record has been dissected in ink more than any other on the list. People have been searching for meaning in Kurt Cobain’s lyrics since 1991, and especially since 1994. I tend to believe the vast majority of his lyrics are Melvins-level nonsense, as Cobain stated in so many words, himself, multiple times. That said, I also think Kurdt would and did deeply appreciate that people are spending so much mental energy (see: love) hearing him out.

What can I even say about this record? That maybe I’m rating it too low, based on the sheer cultural power it possesses? Should I talk about the childish-joy-and-primal-scream, therapeutic power of “Lithium”, a song with a chorus consisting of the single word, “yeah”? Maybe Krist Novoselic’s wonderful rendition of the Youngbloods’ “Get Together” to open “Territorial Pissings”? I could point out that, as far as I know, Nevermind was the first record with a deeply hidden track, “Endless, Nameless”, that scared the holy hell out anyone who let the CD play and went about their business. 35 minutes after you thought the record was over, it pummels you with cacophonous stoner metal that stuns you into scrambling around, trying to figure out what that is and where it is coming from. “Drain You” is Nirvana’s best song. The version of “In Bloom” featured on Nevermind is not nearly as sludgy as the Sub-Pop single issued a year earlier, but it is hard to argue that Dave Grohl’s cleaner drumming is not an improvement. “Smell Like Teen Spirit” is Nirvana’s “Stairway”, I could never hear that song again and be perfectly fine, and maybe the ubiquity of that song hurts this album’s rank. It’s hard to explain the nostalgia and connection I, and people of my generation, have with this record, but if you are a member of that generation, you get it. Enough said.

91) Rolling Stones – Sticky Fingers

If anyone was actually paying attention to this list, they would probably already be upset that I ranked Nevermind so low, and now they are really apoplectic.

Honestly, I wouldn’t disagree with your anger, even though I do. The Stones were in their absolute prime when they put this record out, this the 4th in a string of 5 or 6 records (culminating, according to popular opinion, with Exile on Main Street) on which they absolutely were the world’s best rock n’ roll band. Brian Jones’ (RIP) replacement Mick Taylor kicked the bluesy swagger up to 11, replacing Jones’ experimental psychedelia with pure raunch. The first five tracks are absolute gold: “Brown Sugar” is questionable content in 2022, but in 1971, served as a perfect vehicle for Mick Jagger’s sinewy lasciviousness. “Sway” is the song that people are talking about when they say the Rolling Stones were the darker, grittier side of British rock, especially if you consider that the other side of that coin, the Beatles, were walking down that long and winding road and letting it be. It’s bleak, continuing the Stones’ invocation of the devil that started out as sympathy. “Wild Horses” is pristine, and probably the soundtrack to a thousand weddings. “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” sounds like smuggling drugs into the US from Colombia (Martin Scorsese hears it, too), and is followed by “You Gotta Move”, road-weary and hungover from the decadence it just witnessed. The thing is, after those gems, the album feels a little… long? I choose to believe it is a testament to just how good those first five songs are, there is no way the Stones had it in them to maintain that level of chemical excellence. Sticky Fingers is indulgent, and maybe the last time the Stones weren’t kind of a rooster-strutting singles band. Then again, Keith Richards still walks upright, so maybe there is no level of chemicals that can stop the Stones.

Speaking of indulgence, thanks for indulging me and checking this out. The fact that you care about my opinion makes me feel like Mick Jagger. I hope you’ll come back for the next, what, 8-9 parts? I also hope you’ll share this, even if it is to show others what a fool I am. See you soon, be excellent to each other, and party on, dude.

It is being widely reported that Cineworld, the UK based parent company of Regal Cinemas, has filed for bankruptcy, following a “return” from the pandemic that has proven less profitable than the company believed. Some articles are reporting a debt of $8.4 billion dollars. I’m no financial reporter, and I’m certainly not privy to any inside information, so I’ll take that number as gospel and say that seems like a large sum of money.

It is my job, as the resident loud fool, to complain, wax philosophically, and nerd out over the meaningless minutia of this largely insignificant news.

First, let us ponder what Cineworld actually said regarding the bankruptcy. The company stated that a “lack of blockbusters” was hurting their liquidity. This seems pretty straightforward from a boardroom standpoint. Fewer big ticket films mean fewer ticket sales. 1+1=2. As we all know, however, boardroom types are some the least imaginative people on Earth. If they had any creative-thinking skills at all, they’d be creators instead of tasteless arbiters of taste.

Cineworld runs a cadre of movie theaters. Perhaps the most magical thing about movie theaters is the way they make us feel. Movies invoke passion, spark deep nostalgia, and allow us to escape our stressful, tightly-scheduled lives for 120 minutes of shared experience with fellow dreamers. Anyone you know can easily name 10 movies they love, but not so easily name which one they love the most. Movies are wonderful, and movie theaters are still the best delivery system out there. Cineworld can and should be delivering on that nostalgia. Why wait around for the next shallow cash-in from the Marvel Cinematic Universe (full disclosure: I absolutely love Marvel films and will almost assuredly be buying a ticket to see the next one)? Why not host midnight showings of the old 1990 Captain America film (starring the always magnificent Ronnie Cox)? The film isn’t good, but you’re selling nostalgia and feelings. For those with no nostalgia around this film, and I’m sure there are plenty, there will be a curiosity at play that almost certainly outweighs the desire for another slog through the deepest, C-list superheroes Marvel is churning out now. Maybe I’m wrong, though, more on that later…

Perhaps this film is too pungent for Cineworld, not an unreasonable stance. Why not run showings of the 1986 Top Gun in the lead-up to Maverick? The recent film is nothing if not a play at nostalgia, and if Cineworld has decided that big-ticket nostalgia is the move, why stop at Tom Cruise? The Exorcist, Lost Boys, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, and Predator are just a few of the franchises that recently rebooted or re-appeared, to middling levels of success. I firmly believe that movie-goers would rather watch the originals that they may have been too young to see in theaters and have since grown to love than shabby reboots or prequels.

Yes, streaming services are a “problem”, I guess. In the same way maybe Blockbuster was a problem for theaters in the 1990s? Film studios want to make money. If you’ll pay them to run their films, they’ll take the deal. If showing the 1986 film creates more buzz for the 2022 version, great for them. Again, I’m no financial expert, but this seems like a flimsy excuse to me.

There is no shortage of disaffected, creative American youth. This means there is no shortage of creative American youth making films. The vast majority of them are absolutely starving for a chance to show their film on the silver screen. Theaters should host their local artists’ films. Friends and family would flock to the theater to walk the red carpet and shower their loved ones in the glow of cinematic success. Many of them will suck, but the quality of the film will not matter as much as the shared experience of movie magic. I promise you, many of them will not suck, and all of them will be better than Tyler Perry’s or Will Ferrell’s next picture. Have a film festival.

Nope. The non-creative financial geniuses in Cineworld’s boardrooms thought raising prices (again) on popcorn and candy, adding lukewarm, sub-par alcohol to the lobby menu, and waiting for Fast and Furious Pt. 25 with their fingers crossed was a solid plan.

But wait…

I pulled some comments from IGN’s Instagram post about this bankruptcy, and here is what members of the public had to say:

“No wonder. We don’t wanna see movies filled with political bullshit. Most Hollywood movies are like that now.”

“Movies are failing because it’s all just manufactured liberal garbage.”

“A lot of the original stuff coming out just doesn’t intrigue me”

There are also numerous comments about how badly employees are treated and how obscenely priced concessions are. As silly as the “political bullshit” comments may be, the rest of it is valid. Cinemas have lowered their own bar. It shouldn’t cost so much to see a film, especially in a shoddy theater. When I buy a $15 dollar bucket of popcorn, is it benefitting the employees who popped it, ensuring they are getting paid to sufficiently clean bathrooms and keep the theater pristine? Probably not. It’s probably the CEO of Cinemark who thinks he/she needs a second mansion in London. Of course, the theaters are not maintained in pristine fashion, as landlords cut corners and underpaid, bored employees say “f*** it.”

I suspect, though, that the comments about being uninterested in original material springs from someone who probably belongs in a boardroom. Theaters are, in some ways, at the mercy of the movie studios, and the studios are churning out dog shit. We’ve all seen dog shit before.

Filmmaker Kevin Smith, writer/director of Clerks, Chasing Amy, and Dogma (also dog shit like Cop Out and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back) recently bought his hometown movie theater in Leonardo, NJ. It is being refurbished into a hybrid film school at which Smith himself will hold court, and is hosting a festival of independent films from filmmakers all over the US. Smith, while certainly a millionaire, is only one guy with one theater, but he gets it. Maybe his theater will be a little more niche’ than most, but rest assured these are the kinds of things that will reinvigorate the cinemaplex. It’s practically a given that the films being shown on his screens will not be the seventh sequel to Expendables. Surely, a company like Cineworld had the resources to do such a thing on a much grander scale, with the added bonus of still hosting the Marvels and Star Wars of the world. They chose the non-creative, corporate way. That’s how we all end up with a choice between dog shit or nothing. And really, why wouldn’t you choose nothing?

The first time I’ve watched a film on its release date since Rise of Skywalker. The popcorn in my living room is highly superior to the popcorn at Brenden Theaters.

Anyway, I guess there has been some sort of controversy around this film. Not that it’s too gory or overtly sexual, or that it is pushing cinema out of the general consciousness to make room for yet another super-hero popcorn film, but that it got made by James Gunn. At least I think that’s the controversy. I’m not really sure; my definition of controversy does not involve angry hate nerds dancing their fingers across their keyboards to “review bomb” something. I hear they’re mad because James Gunn isn’t Zack Snyder and these same nerds love the Snyder Cut of Justice League (full disclosure: I also very much liked the Snyder cut). Why this necessitates writing poor reviews for a movie before it is released, I do not understand. I’ve looked into reasons why Snyder snobs are doing so and only become more confused. For what it’s worth (in this context, nearly everything), I’ve seen this movie.

Is this film a sequel to the original David Ayer film, or a reboot? The official answer is the latter, but Gunn brought back characters from the first film, played by the same actors, and it is certainly implied that they know each other. Each of Harley Quinn’s (Margot Robbie) interactions with Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman) strongly suggest these characters have dealt with each other before.

Speaking of Harley Quinn… Harley Quinn is in this movie. The character still looks and sounds like the Harley Quinn I remember from the animated series and video games and comic books (Robbie embodies her extremely well), but I do not necessarily recognize her. When did she become a trained fighter? Who trained her? She wasn’t granted magical or superhuman powers that I’m aware of, so how is she able to pull off some of these maneuvers? Isn’t she more of a guns and sledgehammers kinda gal? After contemplating this during a 10-minute stretch of the film, I decided that it wasn’t particularly important to know the answer. It looked cool; roll with it and enjoy the film, Ebert. To paraphrase the wife, the question posed to her: “She knows how to do this stuff because she’s a popular and marketable character who the Hot Topic girls dress as for Halloween.”

I became aware of Suicide Squad director James Gunn through his work on Troma Films like Tromeo and Juliet and Terror Firmer, although I didn’t specifically know them as James Gunn films* at the time. His name stuck with me later because of his work on the video game Lollipop Chainsaw. Gunn got his huge break writing/directing Guardians of the Galaxy for Disney. That film gives you a pretty good idea of what you can expect, tone-wise, from Suicide Squad, except the absurdity is turned way up and the gore, almost non-existent in the Disney-owned MCU, is gratuitous. I mean this as high praise. The movie is stylized in a way that is unrealistic even for a superhero movie, and there is one fight scene (involving Harley Quinn, naturally) that could have been pulled directly out of Lollipop Chainsaw. This movie is fun to look at, and quite a departure from a DCEU that can often be downright bleak.

The soundtrack is fun, I don’t remember a ton of orchestral, cinematic score, but the music of the Pixies and the Fratellis is used to great effect at points in the story.

Unbelievably, John Cena and Sylvester Stallone are scene-stealers, no easy feat when sharing a screen with the vivacious Ms. Robbie or the excellent Idris Elba. Elba’s portrayal of Bloodsport is effective because the character doesn’t let us forget that these protagonists are not “good guys”. Don’t get me wrong: no Oscars are going to be handed out. There was one point when I thought to myself, “I cannot believe they convinced Viola Davis to be in this movie,” but with the exception of some very cheesy dialogue (Quinn’s thoughts on rain), I didn’t get pulled out of the film by bad acting. An aside: I never thought I would ever hear John Cena say ‘fuck’.

The villain: It’s hard to even comment on this without spoiling it. The villain is definitely not who you think it is going to be, and even after you find out who it is, you might be wrong.

So, should you see this film?

Can you handle/do you enjoy over-the-top gore? This movie earns its R-rating there, most assuredly. Do NOT watch this children. Are you weirdly dedicated to Zack Snyder, to the point where you can’t enjoy anyone else directing a DC Comics film? Are you a fan of slightly strange, not-too-serious superhero films, or do you only enjoy the straightforward nature of films like Avengers: Infinity War and Justice League? If you answered yes, no, and “yea, I like slightly strange,” you should. It’s a tad on the long side, and some of the scenes gave me deja vu of the first film, but it’s fun! If a 5 is an average review, I’d give this one a 7-ish, keeping in mind that is on a scale of superhero films, not cinema overall. And seriously, if you haven’t checked out Gunn’s Troma work, go do that right away. You will not regret it.

7/10

* He wrote those films, they were directed by the very legendary Lloyd Kaufman.

Hello, lovely readers. The Xmas season is almost upon us, and there are outrages everywhere! This will be the first in what I hope to make a semi-weekly collection of rants on some of the awesome/stupid/heinous/glorious stuff that goes on in our awesome/stupid/heinous/glorious world. Instead of bombarding my Facebook feed with articles and posts, I’ve decided to leave that stuff alone and post my complaints or praises here. That way, only those who want to be subjected to them will be. But why wouldn’t you want it? Without further ado, let’s set sail on a sea of cheese, to paraphrase one of the world’s greatest philosophers:

First, “Baby, it’s Cold Outside” and now this…:

There is a petition swirling online, with 113,000 signatures as of this writing, calling for the Walt Disney company to denounce their trademark on the phrase, “Hakuna Matata”.

Why, exactly is this request being made? Because the trademarking of the phrase is, as the petition puts it, “an assault on the Swahili people and Africa as a whole.” First of all, Robert Mugabe would like to discuss their definition of an “assault on Africa”. Secondly, has anyone in the history of the world (or at least since 1994, when the trademark was initially acquired by Disney) been sued for saying “Hakuna Matata”? As soon as Disney takes an 8 year-old to court for cheekily saying the phrase to his folks after he has accidentally shattered the window of the neighbor’s home, I will be on board and will happily lend my voice to the masses who demand the revocation. Finally, if you have seen the movie, “The Lion King”, you know that featured therein is a song called “Hakuna Matata”. It was written by Elton f’ing John and Tim Rice. Should they not have a trademark on their work? Are we really sure that the people who created this petition are not, in fact, protesting the trademarking of an original piece of music written by two brilliant songsmiths? Of course Disney is going to make merchandise featuring the words, but are we quite certain that they are going to start pursuing the Swahili people through the American court system? Are we completely out of problems in the First World?

Yasiel Puig/Matt Kemp/Alex Wood traded to the Cincinnati Reds:

This trade just happened. Seriously, like an hour ago. I haven’t had time to fully process it yet, but you can read about it here.  The trade represents something of an end to an era, that being the Yasiel Puig era, in which he licked or flipped bats, turned doubles into triples, singles into outs, caused great consternation and euphoria among Dodgers fans, got demoted to the minor leagues, started a charity, tried to kill Madison Bumgarner, and had fun playing a child’s game. He will be missed, and I wish him luck.

Matt Kemp will be missed, but we’ve already been through this once before, and really, he needed the Dodgers more than they needed him at this point in his career. Alex Wood went 27-10 in the last two years, but he sealed his fate with a dreadful performance in the 2018 World Series.

However, I have a feeling there is a bigger move in play. Homer Bailey was a godawful 1-14 with a 6.09 ERA last season, and not even the malignant Dodgers front office could be that moronic (right?). He will be cut promptly, and now it looks like the Dodgers got essentially nothing for the three players they sacrificed. Kemp was due $20 million next year, Puig $11 million, and Wood $9 million. That’s significant money off the books, and there is now an opening in RF. I’m not having too hard of a time thinking of a very expensive, very young, very brash freeagent RF who would be worth every penny of at $200-300 dollar contract because he puts butts in the seats.

This must happen. If it does not happen, the trade is an absolute nightmare, a white flag waved by a hapless front office. If this does not happen, it is also a huge middle-finger to a fanbase that has showed tremendous loyalty to a team that they cannot watch locally on TV, a penny-pinching scrooge move just in time for Christmas. I have to admit, the more I stare at the two sentences I just wrote, the more pessimistic I become. It comes with being a Dodgers fan. We’ve essentially begged the rest of MLB to outbid us. Everyone “knows” Harper is gonna be a Dodger, so what do they have to lose. This could turn out very bad. Dammit…

“It is an old lesson of history that when a young party sure of its aim wrecks

the rule of a corrupt and inwardly foul system, when it takes into its own

hands the power of the state, it give the responsibility to a dictator, who must

conquer the state with new ideas and put them through. That is what we are

going to do.”    – Joseph Goebbels

Joseph Goebbels was Adolph Hitler’s Reich Minister of Propaganda from 1933 through 1945, the end of the second World War. Goebbels, for all his faults (to put them mildly), was a pioneer in the art of modern propaganda. Along with Hitler, he understood the importance of selling a message. We know very well that the message they were selling was repugnant (particularly with the benefit of hindsight), but Goebbels and Hitler demonstrated with utter clarity the power of the press, how it could be manipulated to ensure the reception and acceptance of a message, and why people were susceptible to propaganda. In today’s rapidly-moving, hyper-connected world, where information is not only abundant but constant, it can be easier than ever to be propagandized. One shudders to think how Hitler and Goebbels would have been able to manipulate people if they had the tools of mass communication available to an aspiring 21st century despot. For its part, the press, used so effectively by the Nazis during World War II, has today become an important tool in the chests of parties who are diametrically opposed in regards to propaganda: those who fight for objective truth as well as those who seek to obfuscate and propagandize.

In some regard, every bit of information we encounter is propaganda. How does it happen? Can society at large really fall victim to another Goebbels? Fear not, the resistance is already underway, and not a moment too soon. The election of Donald Trump has given us the unintended gift of a rejuvenated press that fights to keep the light of truth shining, even while elements inside that same media corps works to undermine the institution and prop up the Commander-In-Chief at all costs.  There are ways that we, also, can fight; by addressing some of the ways propaganda is disbursed or perpetrated, we can inoculate ourselves to some of its effects. Simply being aware of how propaganda is affecting you, or is intended to affect you, can help you be less susceptible.

Propaganda is defined by Richard Campbell, author of Media & Culture: Mass Communication in the Digital Age, as “a communication strategy that tries to manipulate opinion to gain support for a special issue, program, or policy, such as a nation’s war effort”. As addressed previously, modern humanity lives in a rapidly moving world, inundated with information. Johnnie Manzaria, et al, discusses this in the report, War & Peace: Media and War: in the last 100 years, technology has allowed us to spread information across a large group, and has evolved into a scientific process capable of influencing all people. The plentiful information is impossible to process, our minds need shortcuts. Propaganda provides these shortcuts by appealing to familiar feelings through slogans, stereotypes, or rules of thumb. Donald Trump has certainly shown a proclivity for this tactic. His screams of “fake news”, his “Make America Great Again” hats or hashtags, and the cries of “build the wall!” are repeated and have become familiar. The statements have very little substance, but work many of his supporters into an absolute frenzy of patriotism. “Make America Great Again” has become ubiquitous in our society, even though many of the proponents of the notion do not know what “great again” actually means, or at least do not agree on a single definition. To Donald Trump, the meaning is unimportant; what matters is the ferocious loyalty the slogans inspire. Herr Schiller, part of Goebbel’s Der Angriff, which was essentially the Nazi Office of Propaganda (Lemmons), said it thusly: “The masses want it. We can and must give it to them. We must see through the eyes of the masses” (Nelson). Indeed, a significant portion of the country has lapped this up, and the media was a very large part of the dissemination of his message. Estimates range from $2 Billion to $5 billion dollars worth of “free” airtime granted to Trump during the 2016 election, as opposed to $746 million for Hillary Clinton or $321 million for Bernie Sanders (LaFrance).

This power of the media to disseminate a message is called by Manzaria “The Dune Effect”.  The Dune Effect describes the theory that who controls access can control public opinion. In our modern media landscape, six major companies control 90% of the outlets from which we obtain our information (Wagner). Rupert Murdoch, owner of NewsCorp, is well-known for his pro-conservative leanings. He certainly makes no qualms about them. NewsCorp owns Fox Broadcasting, DirecTV, 20th Century Fox, The Wall Street Journal, and the New York Post, just to name a few. It doesn’t take a leap of imagination to see just how much power he (or his company) possess to control the narrative our country receives every day. Besides the ability to decide what news we see, they can determine the lens through which we view it. The news can be dramatized to make an emotional impact, which can be far more effective than facts when it is time to drive people to action. Again turning to Goebbels, he describes this in one of his 3 Maxims of Nazi Propaganda (as reported by Roger B. Nelson): “Dramatize your propaganda. All the world is a stage. Act well.” Of course, this drive to action is not always a bad thing; the ASPCA uses propaganda in their commercials whenever they show pictures of shivering animals locked in cages, set to the longing chords of Sarah MacLachlan.

Aldous Huxley, in his seminal Brave New World, posits that mass communication is “neither good nor bad, it is simply a force. It can be used for good or evil.” While those terms may be largely subjective, it is undeniable that we are experiencing this phenomenon today. Huxley mentions the value to the propagandist of crowds. Crowds are more likely to abandon reason and react to their passions, through peer pressure or sheer excitement. Crowds are likely to lend themselves to absolutes, issues become black or white, you’re either with us or against us. It feels good to be a part of a crowd, and it evokes an enjoyable emotion, which is perhaps the most persuasive form of propaganda there is. Confirmation bias is incredibly powerful, and is an evolutionary fact. Think back to our discussion of how we process information: We prefer familiar, easily digestible things, we care less about veracity. Entertainment is another form of this. When we are being entertained, we need not worry about what is true or false, because it isn’t real. Man’s capacity for distraction cannot be overstated (Huxley). One look at today’s Trump rallies, fawningly covered by a media all too willing to play the evil or bungling foil to Trump’s tough guy hero, is an embodiment of this.

The fractious and vacuous nature of today’s media was a natural occurrence, a free market feature that could not have been avoided. In a way, the media was forced to adapt or die; to find their audience and cater to them. This has led to rise of separate sets of “facts”; the truth depends on who you ask. It is incumbent on us, then, as consumers, to be aware of how propaganda works and act accordingly. There are still press outfits with veracity and dignity, but in order for truth to recapture the spotlight, we will have to demand it. The media will give the consumer what they want, so let’s reward truthful media with reads and dollars. More importantly, it will take a cultural shift. I can’t even begin to predict how to spark such a shift, it certainly seems like an uphill battle. Does anyone know any benevolent propagandists?

If Trump were politically astute and not an egomaniac, he would rescind the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh and select a new justice. His pride will not allow him to see this potential move  as anything other than a “loss”, but he should hear me out. He won’t.

First off, the allegations against Judge Kavanaugh should absolutely be taken seriously. As a general rule of a civilized, modern society, any time a potential victim of any crime comes forward, we owe it to them to take their claims seriously. It is obscene that there is an entire news network  granting Kavanaugh (and Trump) a platform to demean, obfuscate, and disparage Kavanaugh’s accusers. We should feel compelled to grant the potential victims the same courtesy. Yes, the accused has a presumption of innocence and the right to face his accusers, but the women who came forward are not on trial, and they are not in a position of power that allows them to exploit the media like Kavanaugh has been granted.

The accuser and the accused deserve to have their day in court, and rescinding the nomination would hasten the progress towards a real trial, not one played out in the court of public opinion or the absurdly partisan halls of congress.

For his part, the President could get to work on vetting and selecting a new nominee to the Supreme Court. He claimed to have an extensive list of candidates, and I’m quite sure that they all have “astounding conservative credentials”. The Republicans lose nothing by losing Kavanaugh.

Additionally, the Democrats would be forced to come to the table for a confirmation hearing and vote. Any new allegations that surfaced against a new nominee would be reasonably viewed with skepticism. I believe that the general public actually want a full, functioning, Supreme Court, and slow-playing another nomination for some unspecified time (the end of Trump’s term?) would turn public opinion against them. If Kavanaugh’s nomination is rescinded, a new Trump appointee would probably be far more rigorously examined, and that gives Democrats a chance to posture for a 2020 run.

Sure, Kavanaugh misses out on an opportunity. Cry me a river, Brett. Merrick Garland would like to have a word with you, speaking of obstruction.