2013 Film Review: March
I did a search for “Cordelia Moosefart” on Google, and it turns out that person doesn’t actually exist. And why would she? That’s a fucking ridiculous name – but I had to check if there was somebody in the universe named that.
What Google did produce is a Cocktail named the Moose Fart, which consists of the following:
1 part Vodka
1 part Canadian Whiskey
1 part Kahlua
1 part Bailey’s Irish cream
Chuck all that shit and some ice in a blender. Sounds delightful, I’ll have to try it some day. In the mean time, I’m ranking March’s films out of Moose Farts.
What’s it about:
After finger fucking pretty much every female in Arkansas, Oscar “Oz” Diggs flees from enraged husbands in a hot air balloon, and subsequently finds himself in a Tornado headed for Fuck You. He awakes from the crash and befriends a witch, a flying monkey, a China Doll, a…I dunno…talking toaster and a fish bowl full of Leopard’s blood.
It’s colourful, I guess.
I usually dig James Franco, but he is horribly miscast here (Downey Jr was originally cast and would have been better, but I’m glad he was spared this tripe). The witches are sexy, but the inane dialogue and shitty character arcs severely hamper their ability to make an impact.
The film is equally parts vapid and annoying. It probably didn’t help that they couldn’t use a lot of original characters due to copyright infringement. There is no Lion crying out for his courage. No Scarecrow asking for a brain. Hell, I’d settle for John Wayne Bobbit crawling down the Yellow Brick Road searching for his severed penis. Instead we get a flying monkey voiced by Zach Braff, whose performance made me want to fire bomb the local zoo.
True Story: A few years back Braff was on the prank show Punk’d, where he was set up into believing youths were spray painting his new car. They didn’t televise the bit where he actually caught one of the vandals (a 12 year old kid) and beat the living shit out of him.
If you get a spare moment, google: Oz the Great and Army of Darkness. There’s an obscene number of shout outs to Evil Dead 3 in this film, and I have no idea why. Raimi should hurry and make AOD2 already, he’s obviously got a boner for it.
There’s a prequel to this film in the works, which features the three witches in their late teens having a sleepover in the Emerald castle, whereby they indulge in pillow fights and practice French kissing on each other. Meanwhile, a purple Ox named Mr Puffgiggles watches from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to murder them so that he can create a wig out of their glistening guts. He is aided in his quest by a singing chainsaw voiced by Zach Galifinakis.
The Final Word:
I sound surly in this review, but that’s because I spilt a glass of red all over my keyboard and it put me in a cunt of a mood. To be honest I didn’t hate the film per se – but I did find it pretty boring. This is the kind of mindless gunk you can chuck on for the kids, while you sneak off to flick the bean to your Fireman Calender in the back room. I give it two Moose Farts.
What’s it About:
John McClane travels to the heart of Moscow to check on his son Jack, who is in some deep shit.
McClane sports his trademark singlet and smokes his way through a pack of cigarettes as he sorry, was confusing this with the good Die Hard films.
There’s a decent car chase at the start of the film that results in a tonne of wanton destruction that is great fun to witness. Makes no fucking sense narratively speaking, but still fun.
The only other good thing this film accomplished, was it made the shitty Die Hard 4.0 look pretty decent in comparison.
There are decent foundation blocks here – John McClane in Russia to help his CIA son – I dig the premise. So how did they fuck it up? Let’s look at the classic components (from the original trilogy) of a Die Hard film and how this film fucked it up.
The humour: McClane was one of the kings of the action one liner. Here he’s relegated to yelling “I’m on vacation!” every fifteen minutes – which doesn’t make any sense anyway. It’s established in the opening minutes of the film that he is not on fucking vacation.
The action scenes: Traditionally clever in the DH series, pointless in this film. The heroes are often shooting off screen at shit we don’t even see. McClane and son leap through multi storey windows with no idea what’s on the other side no less than THREE TIMES. Also, they shakle the camera during the action which always gives me eyeball shits.
The sidekick: Great set up – straight laced CIA son vs Loosey Goosey old school cop. Except we never get the fun rivalry this implies.
The villain: I don’t even remember who he was, and what his agenda was. Fuck him. All I know is the heroes had to drive from Moscow to Chernobyl (!) to chase him. Which in reality is a six hour drive. Though I’d rather watch Willis humming along to a classic 80’s Russian radio station for six hours on the highway than the rest of the film.
The location: Moscow. Awesome. Except the whole film is shot in this shitty blue wash making the city almost unrecognizable. Thanks for the establishing shot of Saint Peter’s Cathedral at least, you rank shit whores.
Fuck this film.
The thing is, I felt a sense of deja vu while watching Die Hard 5, and it’s because it reminded me of our earlier stuff at film school. But you see we had characters shooting off screen because we didn’t have enough actors to fill the shot. Our footage was blue washed because we forgot to check the white balance on the camera. We were drunk teenagers in the mid 90’s, what the fuck is the excuse of this multi million dollar Hollywood production?
Bruce Willis apparently complained like a bitch during production. “This isn’t John McClane!” he would moan. He was right.
There’s a script for a sixth Die Hard out there, in which John McClane goes to Japan to celebrate the anniversary of the Nakatomi fuckery from the first film. The poster will feature Bruce Willis lighting a cigar with a $100 bill with one hand, giving the finger with the other, and the title will be
The Final Word:
The fourth Die Hard was a cartoonish mess, and so that softens the blow a little of this lacklustre fifth entry. Still, always hard to watch a classic franchise get driven into dust. One and a half Moose Farts.
What’s it About:
It’s Jeff Chang’s 21st birthday, so two of his old buddies take him out on the town to get wasted. Mission accomplished. Problem is, they need to get the comatose lad back to his house before a Med School interview at 8am – and they have no idea where he lives. HILARITY ENSUES LOLLLL
I’ve drank with my fair share of Asians, and honestly it takes about two beers to get them wasted. I’ve always been jealous of this ability, and the money they must save. I’ll go through a six pack when I brush my teeth. You don’t want to know how much it takes to get me wasted on a night out.
Every college comedy needs a nervous straight man (The Jim) and a who-gives-a-fuck lothario (The Stifler), but this film adds a new slant to the story by adding a Weekend at Bernie’s type foil in the guise of the birthday boy Jeff, who spends most of the film in a drunken coma. To add spice to the proceedings, the sporadic moments when Jeff does wake up he transforms into a whirlwind of drunken recklessness – the image of a drunken Chinese lad fleeing on car roof tops wearing nothing but a teddy bear glued to his penis isn’t one that will leave you quickly.
The film features a number of antagonists, mostly other college kids the trio anger on their journeys – but the most memorable is Jeff’s father, who is hell bent on tracking the boys down like some kind of surly Chinese warlord.
Lotta love for the very final scene, which ends the story on an exclamation mark.
What can I say, these drunken college comedies are a dime a dozen – and 21 and Over can’t really be considered the most necessary film of the year. I had fun with the movie, but besides a funny scene here and there I don’t recall all that much of the hijinks (although that could come from writing reviews for films months after I actually viewed them. Seriously, what the fuck am I doing here?). Meanwhile, a couple of guys are working on the screenplay for American Pie 9. AMERICAN PIE FUCKING NINE. I swear we could come up with a cure for cancer if we weren’t spending so much time and effort coming up with new ways for Jason Biggs to cum in a sock.
Justin Chon was 31 when he played the titular 21 year old. Gotta love Asians, they don’t age for six decades…until suddenly one day they look 200 years old (paraphrasing Stewie Griffin here).
The Final Word:
Amusing booze soaked adventure. I like to think I would have been a legendary College Campus party animal if I had been born in the States, but in all honesty I would have most probably died from a bloody prolapse after my twentieth wedgy.
ABCs of Death
26 Directors create 26 tales of death, one for each letter of the alphabet. It’s Sesame Street for fucking awful people.
Like I said in my V/H/S review – the joy of anthology films is that the next story is just around the corner, a theme that The ABCs of Death takes to extremes, with some chapters as short as 45 seconds long. Seriously, if you get up for a piss halfway through the film you’ll miss up to three short films.
The variety on display is astounding – 26 directors spanning 15 countries, with a wide variety of styles and media. Everything from Clay Animation to Japanese Fart Porn.
They have arranged some cutting edge directors here – this is a list that regards Eli Roth and James Wan as too long in the tooth. No shit, I’m a massive Gore Hound and I spent a good hour on Wikipedia looking up half the names involved, having not come across them before.
Not every segment is a keeper, and I’d probably say that the bad films outnumber the good. And while I can nod my head at the Director’s valiant efforts that failed, I can’t condone the lazy fuckers who didn’t try in the first place. There’s nothing worse than a “meta” short film about the hassles of making a short film, and ABCs of Death features TWO segments like that. You gotta leave that grating bullshit back in first year film school.
Ti West’s M is for Miscarriage segment looked like he got up off his couch during an ad break and shot it on his phone.
ABCs of Death 2, with an even more eclectic range of directors – due in 2014. Buy a copy for your kids.
The Final Word:
It’s such a wild ride that the crappier segments feel like part of the journey rather than a down point, forcing me to give it a more lenient three Moose Farts. If the whole escapade sounds fucking awful to you, search out and watch D is for Dogfight by itself – the best of the segments, and one of the greatest short films I have seen.