I've held off on presenting this for quite awhile, basically because I wanted to start up a challenge to the gamers to come up with what they thought would make for an original game. Then supposedly I would blow everyone away with mine.
But given recent events, I think it's time to just come out and show what I've got.
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For George Carlin.
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I call this one......"Bad Baby!!"
You play the role of a 47-year-old semi-retarded alcoholic that has an adult-baby fetish.
After an accident drinking tainted breastmilk, this freak manbaby has the oddball superpower to crush his enemies with his sonic manbaby-cry. Secondary weapons would involve a lead rattle, beer bottles painted white to look like baby ba-ba's, toy horsey Shurikens, a touch-activated talking teddy bear, and his own loaded diaper.
The controls can be simplified to the classic TMNT style of jump and attack, but to really take advantage of the extended attack options, a third attack button would let you you use whatever was in your sub-weapon slot at the time, and a fourth would let you use your charged-up sonic manbaby cry. Controlling the Manbaby can be as easy as using either the D-pad or the analog stick.
Levels would include:
* Generic street level with hordes of disgusted citizens and lowly cops on the beat.
* A drunken rage at a local biker bar.
* Brawling with security on the set of the Spring Jerringer Show.
* A drug-induced stroll through a very colorful land of candy (Which turns out to be another generic street level after completing it).
and
* A local gun-toting militia consisting of, surprisingly, rival manbabies with the sole intent of taking you down.
Bonus games would involve getting burped by a very embarassed hooker, attempting to use cuteness to get out of a public indecency arrest, picking the perfect mother to breastfeed with, and scaring real babies at a day-care center by making faces with the analog sticks, face buttons, and the shoulder buttons.
My lack of experience with the Xbox 360 can only leave me to wonder if there's ways of using the x360 headset to send voice commands into the game itself (like Lifeline and the SOCOM games for the PS2). If so, then there could be room for even more insane shit.
There could be a cheat code screen where you only see the Manbaby staring at the player, and the analog sticks control which way his hands rub his fat hairy manboobs (Clicking the analog sticks would squeeze the manboobs), and if you do the proper motions while saying certain phrases or talking a certain way in the headset, you could unlock various cheats. But the method would be so disturbing that, well, why would you WANT to?
The cheat code entry would also be recorded and sent to XBox Live for contest purposes of who can make the funniest and/or most disturbing variation of a cheat code entry.Obviously, you have to reward the winners with something, so give them Microsoft Points. They earned it.....sick fucks.
Direct all hate-mail to
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:-D
Ahoy Matey's of thatguywiththeglasses.com! I be needin yer help. I've gotta design contest up on youtube for the tilte sequence and logos for my radio show/podcast thing, and Im completly retarded with the pen and paper, so I need you guys to come up with something. I need title cards for my 3 shows:
You wouldn’t think a film with a title as blunt as “Zack and Miri Make a Porno,” would be this season’s mushiest movie, but there is an undeniable charm sprinkled through Kevin Smith’s latest post-Jersey flick, somewhere between the anal sex and bubbles blown from below the belt. Seth Rogen and Elizabeth Banks star as the titular friends driven to smutty creativity by their piling bills. Driven to their inspiration by a disastrous turn at a high-school reunion, the platonic couple decides to invest their remaining cash into an adult feature, using friends as crew and hiring a local cast, all while fervently ignoring the chemistry between them. Rogen (Knocked Up) continues his streak as the believable and loveable schlub that bags the girl eons beyond his league. Banks (W.) is wonderfully charming and cuddly as the fire-cracker best friend, despite not fitting in at all in a cast that uses curse words like punctuation.
A funny but incoherent Craig Robinson (Pineapple Express) is Delaney, Rogen’s fellow employee at a Starbuck’s knockoff, and the porno’s producer, who hires actresses Stacey (Kate Morgan) and Bubbles (Traci Lords) to star in the film and serve as parodies of their real-life porno-star counterparts (both of whom give surprisingly competent performances, despite their resumes.) Deacon (Jeff Anderson) is hired to shoot the film based on his previous experience (he filmed Zack’s high-school sporting events), with Brandon (Ricky Mabe) and Lestor (Jason Mewes) rounding out the cast as the two male leads. Both Brandon and Lestor parody the provisions of adult film acting with visible enjoyment and zest, but they amount to little more outside of the smut scenes. Anderson’s Deacon comes away as the most underused of the film, giving an entertaining performance of a down-to-earth pal everyone wants to have at least one of. The true gems this film has to offer is the gay couple of the wry, impossibly deep-voiced Brandon (Justin Long of Mac ad fame) and the insecure jock Bobby Long (newest Superman Brandon Routh), appearing at the high school reunion with endearing charisma.
The story is a spunk-filled re-telling of a classic idea, how sex affects previously platonic relationships. Not the strongest of prologues, but, as in all of Smith’s work, the film’s draw is its dialogue, and thankfully “Porno” doesn’t disappoint. Though not as sharp a wit as Smith’s earlier work, like “Chasing Amy” and “Dogma,” the film’s banter still serves in immediately establishing the characters and their personalities. The film’s script maintains a sense of simultaneous immaturity and wisdom, leading the audience to eventually fall in love with everyone appearing on screen. The line between Smith’s love of scripted word and Rogen’s improv tendencies is practically invisible, and the film acts as a nice mesh of the two schools of delivery. Some running gags (like Delaney’s bitch of a wife) don’t have as much staying power as the production team thinks, but generally the plot moves on at a smooth and funny pace. The film ends up buried in sappy cliches towards the end of the two leads’ romantic angst, but thanks to a wonderful turn by cinematographer David Klein – who makes suburban Pittsburgh look idyllic - the dated fluff is given a new visual life.
There are a few nitpicks; Kevin Smith’s love of Star Wars leads to a funny but useless pornographic parody of the saga, and his odd fascination with dance sequences has our cast thrown onto stage at one point for a pointless montage; but the film cannot be denied its overall magnetism, especially given the possibilities of its subject matter. I doubt we are going to get another Kevin Smith film as biting and sarcastic as we have come to expect, but Silent Bob has found an entertaining second home as the re-imaginer of the mushy love stories you can take your drinking buddies or your girlfriend to. Way to f**k, Zack.
One Word Review:Snug
One Sentence Review:Its not as sharp as 'Dogma', but you can't deny Smith and Co.'s charm, even in the most taboo circumstances
We don't need another f*ck Viacom video, what we need is 12 F*CK YOU's of VIACOM. This video is a list of 12 things that piss me off about Viacom. Something The NOSTALGIA CRITIC would really appreciate and relate to (Viacom deletes videos off of Youtube). This is number SIX in The 12 Fuck You Series. You can help support this video by commenting, rating, responding and showing others!
FU #1 The fact that Viacom thinks they own everything. They think they own every fucking piece of production that exists out there! The only thing Viacom owns is that giant head that's been stuck up their ass ever since YouTube was created.
-When the first thing you do when you get up in the morning is check your myspace. -When you post stupid updates of every little thing in the bulletin section. -When you have myspace as your home page! -When You listen to music on Myspace only and never buy albums -When you spend an hour looking at your profile and don't realize it - When you hit refresh over and over to see if you got new comments - when you actually go a myspace party, who the hell does that? -When its 4am and your still up checking your myspace. - When Myspace is on your phone -When your stalking your exs on myspace - You have 10,000 friends and don't know who any of them are -When you spend over an hour filling out a stupid survey -When you dedicate hours "souping" up and making your myspace page look nice -When you use myspace as a place to hook up with strangers. -When you spend your day on the Myspace forums and get no where -When you have 5 profiles made for no reason -When you take hundreds of pictures of yourself, JUST to put them on MySpace.
Fourth in a series of 12 Fuck You Videos by Aron Ching (ForFun808). This video is a list of 12 things to annoy everyone about Online Gaming. Why 12? Because I like to go one step behind ThatGuyWithTheGlasses!
Yesterday, I watched "Bee Movie" for the first time. It was part of an Animation Weekend I had, renting three movies from Netflix. I rented Cars, Ratatouille, and Bee Movie. And the Seinfeld effort ended up being my favorite of the three. Don't get me wrong, I loved the Pixar flicks. Cars is one of my favorites of recent years, and I had a great time with Ratatouille, but those two seemed kind of light on the humor... as have quite a few of Pixar's efforts. But Bee Movie was played as a straight comedy, and I really appreciated that. I like to laugh. I like to be entertained when I watch a movie. Not to say that the Pixar movies are not highly entertaining. They are. But seeing lots of jokes and laughing like anything at Bee Movie made me really think about animation today.
Hello every one. Inspired by The Nostalgia Critic, I've decided I want to start my own reviews of movies. But I didn't want to take nostalgic movies since that is obviously taken. So I've spent the last few weeks trying to think of my own unique movies I could review. And thats when I remembered "hey, I'm an actor!". So I've decided to review musical films! If you have any musicals you would like me to review, lemme know. Films can be old ones, new ones, Disney films, even movies that aren't originally based on a musical but they made one anyways (Across the Universe). So, lets get this underway and start sending me requests! You may send as many as you like. And spread the news to your friends. There's a new critic on the web.
Btw, if someone can help me come up with a good name for my reviews, it would be much appreciated. Thank you :-)
Ok well this video was made a few months back and we made about two episodes and stopped because they were never popular, we are thinking of making an abridged but that's not going to happen for a while but stayed tuned for that. Well this is the first episode where we played checkers and yea...that's it. Funny stuffed happened. Enjoy!
Taking some time out from my not-so-busy schedule to talk about a few things today: to tell you the tale of the Biscuit Girls and to let you know why I may not be updating as frequently once school begins.
News
- I'm going to be talking to my school's administrators to see when the rest of my financial aid money will be deposited into my account (direct deposit) so I can use that for moving expenses. If worse comes to worse, I may just have to delay the moving a few more days, which would mean that I wouldn't have as much time before school starts to get used to the area. But, oh well, I find myself to be rather adaptive in these situations, so I'm not too worried.
- My Grams got out of surgery a few weeks ago, and has been recovering ever since. She is fine, and the overall procedure went off without a hitch, so that's another load off my mind.
If Ever I Were a Paid Comic
On this Episode: The Biscuit Girls
For a brief moment my friend Ben (GT User Strayer) and I were toying around with the notion of becoming stand-up comedy performers, the kind that tour local Improv theaters and such. It was a strong idea, as both of us were known to weave a humorous tale or two, and this little anecdote would be one of our highlight bits.
I went to High School in Sonoma County, Northern California's wine stop. Specifically, I lived outside the town of Santa Rosa, and went to the High School that shared the city's name. For the most part it was the expected dichotomy of blatant bureaucracy and a painfully cliche popularity ladder. Of course, with both me and my friend's non-anorexic figures and propensity for the more unpopular activities of gaming, and politic debates, our position on the heavenly chain was firmly beneath the bottom rung of the ladder, where anybody with social ambitions were free to use us as a footstool. This worked out fine for us; as it provided both an excuse to not put the effort into most of the gratuitous social practices one would see on teen drama shows, and it allowed us the greatest means of observation of the vain classes above us. We weren't the majority: we didn't spend our nights crying into our pillow, pining for the love of a jock or the acceptance of the well-liked, we loved our invisibility.
One of our favorite species to document was what Ben later termed: the Biscuit Girl...more on the origin of that name later. First of all, let's lay out how one finds a specimen of this genus. You are looking for an overweight, usually Hispanic, loud female, predictably found in groups that stage their conversations in the middle of the fucking hallway between periods......periods meaning classes.....mostly....
Once you believe you have found a member of the Biscuit clan, zero in and look for the finer details. Does your subject have horrendously fake nails that extend about 2 inches longer than evolution would allow? Does she come equipped with a spray bottle of cheap, caustic hairspray, one that smells almost as bad as the outside of the can looks? Does she spray enough of it on her person to illict an allergic reaction from three tri-country areas away....accounting for more than 32% of humankind's greenhouse gas emissions? You may have found yourself a Biscuit Girl, but there are a few more questions you need to answer before we can be sure...
Does the female speak with a pseudo-Latin American accent that sets back all people of Hispanic descent a couple of centuries? Can you indentify at least three points in a conversation when she refers to another of her tribe as chica? Or any other Taco Bell Spanish, Spanish used so far out of its original context that Pancho Villa is attempting a posthumous second rebellion from his grave? Congratulations, fellow explorer, you have come into contact with the sadly un-rare specimen, the Biscuit Girl. Now, in order to minimize further exposure to this horrible clan, you must identify the alpha females of the tribe, because so far, you have only been subject to the weaker members of the clan. It is here that you will learn the origin of their name.
Our alpha female, in short, is fat. Not necessarily obese, but that could definitely factor into the equation here. The leader definitely needs to have a couple of extra rolls to the sides here, folks. But, what distinguishes the true Biscuit Girl from the followers is the apparent ignorance she has of her own weight. For you she, though she weighs a not so subtle 250, she'll have the wardrobe of a 170 pounder, and not one of conservative class either. Her costuming will feature a prominent extension of thong underwear, reaching beyond the pant line to be visible from a distance. This makes her middle section look like a roast wrapped in twine as it bakes in the oven.
She will also proudly wear both pants and shirts a couple dozen sizes too small, making passersby wary, and prepared for, the inevitable explosion of thigh and gut flesh from its confines, and the spray of button-fire that comes with it. Accessories are always ostentatious, gaudy, cheap jewelry, and overpriced purses. The sacks of blubber, normally not present in the foot region. will be crammed into strapped, open toed shoes of horrendous color, and will have the appearance of swollen spleens.
We named this waste of birth pains the Biscuit Girls for one reason: if you examine the middle section, carefully framing it in one hand from far away (like a child does we he sees an airplane in the sky), and in the other hand procure a tin of Pillsbury Doughboy biscuit batter, slashing it in the middle, the bubble over of batter should create a look so similar, that it is indistinguishable from the mid-section of your chica.
Now that you have been briefed on this horrid sub-class, attempt constant vigilance in your efforts to never come in contact with them. Hallways will be blocked with their bloated, noxious frames, and it will be impossible to maneuver around them. Our solution: just turn and walk away, find another route. For confronting a Biscuit Girl is a deadly mistake. You will be subject to head bops and looks of disdain so drenched in stereotypes it will make the black girls from early 90s television seem like extras on the Brady Bunch. Just. Walk. Away. Leave sacrifices of hair products and overly fried food if you must.
ZOT!
I'm proud as hell to be a college student. I came out of a class whose majority went next down to the junior college. Sure, it's among the greatest JCs in the nation (Santa Rosa Junior College), but with that amount of people I hated in high school filling the courses I would take in higher education, I was happy to be able to get out to a 4-year university. Especially when I got into the University of California (UC) system, one of the best overall levels of college in the country, and thus, the world. Sure, it was only UCR (Univ. of Cali. Riverside), but it was getting me out into my own life. Sure, my parents moving up north a few months before graduation did that too, sorta, it was nonetheless a bonus.
I wasn't too pissed on only getting into the lowest performing UC, as the first two years of a college experience are largely regarded as the GE years, where most classes are taken in order to get the majority of your graduation requirements out of the way, so you can focus on your major in your last years. That, and I had already planned to transfer at the usual Junior-level after I was rejected from all the other 7 schools I applied to.
Luckily for me, my work in FPS Productions and my decent grades were enough to get me into UCI (Univ. of Cali. Irvine). Again, it was the only school to accept my transfer out of the 4 I applied to, but it was a slight step up in my major department (Film and Media Studies) and a noticeable step up in the national rankings (according to Newsweek's latest issue of Top Colleges: UCR = #89/100 in the country, UCI = #44/100 in the country.)
I am now an Anteater (I have no idea, nor do I want to know, how colleges pick their mascots), the printed version of which always seems to say ZOT! on everything (Hence the section title.) The campus is great (has a Quizno's and a Wendy's....in the same building!) from what I saw during my visit for a so-called transfer advising session, and I'm definitely feeling good about the move up. Here be my class schedule:
Monday: Introduction to Film and Media Studies Introduction to Film and Media Studies Screening Film and Media Studies - The Western
Tuesday: The Philosophy of Psychology English Literature
Wednesday: Introduction to Film and Media Studies
Thursday: The Philosophy of Psychology Introduction to Film and Media Studies Discussion English Literature
Pretty lax, really, so that should help in me finding a job and such.
Plugs
- As always, check out my best friend for-longer-than-forever, Bennett the Sage's, here at his new contributing position at thatguywiththeglasses.com or alongside myself on Gamepartisan
- Here's another couple of funny commercials, all about contraception! WEEEEE!!!! Find them here and here.
Stopping in for a bit to keep the creative juices from clogging with a few initial feelings towards the more anticipated titles coming out in the near future. Thanks goes to user pt1493 for the inspiration to do this type of thing, as he is already an expert at doing so. Check out his blog and see for yourself, while your there comment/rate/befriend and all that jazz. The dude got a hard hit a few days ago when Gametrailers.com shat on him by taking down all of his previous user movies, so the guy needs some love.
Legendary
If there is an IP of the near future to get me interested in the shooter genre, it would be this one. The story is definitely an intriguing one, disregarding the space marine/WWII dichotomy for a newer spin: you opened Pandora's box under contract, and now are attempting to rectify the mistake while being chased by multiple factions with varied interest in the Box and yourself. Although I am not a graphics whore, the game does hit a little on the underwhelming side with blocky textures and unrealistic monster design. The level design palette and monster AI seem to make up for it though, and the quasi-magical ability you inherit (zaps energy from fallen foes, turns it to health) adds a bit more intrigue to the package. From the gameplay videos I have seen, the levels do seem designed to box you in, though, and with the agressive enemy AI I'm unsure if that is a good idea. Definitely worth a look though.
Street Fighter IV
I am a Tekken man, have been since the PSX originals and will be even after the franchise dies out. But with the recent arcade expansion to the sixth title dragging an American-side release till next year, I look to the latest with Chun Li and Ryu for expectations. From what I've seen, it looks like the best of both worlds: the old Street Fighter aesthetic of half comedy half seriousness plus a newer sense of balance and design. I have to say I like the female models of older games in comparison, but I understand the look they were going for, and for all extensive purposes it holds up. From what I could play at Comic Con (one match, got my ass handed to me), it feels just like an arcade version of 2, which should keep the old and faithfuls happy. All in all the title looks solid, if not the grandoise of replayability that the Mishima clan have put their name on (Tekken reference), I'll be renting at the very least.
Bionic Commando
I've never played the original NES classic nor have had the system/time/money to spring for the Rearmed downloadable, but one thing keeps me willing to give this bastard a chance, and that is the gameplay feeling of the Spider-Man games (2 and Ultimate, at least) with a post-apocalyptic vibe that actual has a sense of vibrancy to it, not the washed out cliche of Gears of War. Interested, but waiting for a bit more before rendering a final decision.
Battlefield Heroes
Unless something has changed since I watched the developer documentary on this, the game is free to play. That, and the cartoon design choices ala Team Fortress, have gauged my interest enough to merit a download of the thing. It seems like just a fun game, without all the flair and gratuity most big-budget releases seem to tack on by contract. Other than that, not much to say on this baby, just looks like a nice escape in between real life excursions.
Spore
Never been a fan of God Games, and most likely never will be. But I can recognize when a lot of effort has gone into a project, and Will Wright has made it a habit of taking his name onto such IPs. Its nice to watch someone playing the game, especially in the creature creator mode, as the enjoyment always manages to become visible as they tack on limbs and eyes. Sure, I'll be surprised if it takes longer than a literal minute for the user submitted planets to contain solely penis and vagina monsters, but isn't that the holy bloody point? To relish a sense of impish immaturity in creating virtual life, to take the philosophical irresponsible role for once and just play for that laugh reflex? I think so.
Mercenaries 2: World in Flames
My soi bruddah, Bennett the Sage, just put a review of this IP up on his page on Revver, and for the most part I agree with him based on what I've seen. Story sucks, tank controls are pitiful, but the chaotic fun is intact (especially in co-op). Usually, I'm a man that likes to give a shit about the characters he's playing, and that usually requires at least a backbone of story. But, I find myself still drawn to this title, probably for the same reason I am drawn to the Postal series. This IP belongs in a great, respectable series of steam titles. No, not the Valve-hosted web client on PC, games that are specifically designed for you to put in after a hard day and blow off steam. And in this one, you make things splode. And they splode pretty. And they splode loud. And sometimes, even with the glitches, that's all you need.
Left 4 Dead
Again, having a gun in a game doesn't really do it for me, but for reasons unknown, watching gameplay videos for this title makes me want to play it with a desperation I haven't felt since my initial runthrough of Goldeneye on my daycare center's 64. The event of a zombie apocalypse has always interested me, even if it wasn't enough for me to actually watch zombie movies or read zombie comics, and the co-operative play seems like a damn fun time, and a great way to dive into the brain-feeders realm. I'll only pick this up if I can get some of my friends some copies, as I hate online play with people I don't know (all my run-ins have been with people whose vocabulary resemble transcripts from the Jim Crow Era). But damn dude, this looks like fun.
The Witcher: Enhanced Edition
It takes a lot of balls to go back to a project at this depth. The original game looked amazing to me, a veteran of the Baldur's Gate and Diablo franchises, and with the added content it has quickly become a must buy. A quick story overview, as we have come again across a game ballsy enough to contain one: you play as Geralt, an extremely powerful monster hunter for hire known as The Witcher, who goes about a medieval-esque world for bounties and to figure out an identity lost to you at the start of the game. Yeah, I don't like the amnesia plot device either, but the rest of the story seems more than enough to draw me in. The story takes place based off a line of Polish fantasy novels, and has a branching narrative arch dependent on actions taken by the player (always a plus.) The combat looks a bit rigid and the NPC design appears lazy in execution, but the score is eloquent and lush (I went ahead and streamed a couple tunes offline), and all in all looks like a more mature version of Fable, sans the cartoony look. Definitely on my buy list.
Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood
This one's a toughy for me, although not as tough as the upcoming Sonic Unleashed, but more on that later. I don't doubt Bioware's ability to create an RPG, I'm just wondering how well the Sonic universe lends itself to the role playing elements. The world excursion aspects look especially dull in the released videos, and combat looks like standard fare with little to no deviance from the standard elements. Chao raising doesn't appeal to me, hell Chocobo raising didn't, but I have always been a Sonic fan before and after it made sense to be. The comic book cutscenes are not the direction I wanted to see, but in looking back on how previous teams handled a vocal Sonic and crew, that may not be a bad thing. But hey, this decision is made easy by my lack of ownership of a DS and a lack of desire to ever own one. Problem solved. I do hope people give this one a chance, even if only to keep the brand alive until someone with the talent to bring the Hedgehog back to the glory days gets on board.
Sonic Unleashed
It all looked good up until the werehog. It looked like a return to form, with hardly never-decreasing speeds and a camera that couldn't keep up with you. With whacky levels of loops and hairraising turns, with enemies blasted out of the way by your speed and spikes. With trampoline buttons and ring collecting galore. Then came the fucking werehog. I don't remember him from the comics, the shows, and definitely not the games. I have no idea where the motivation to slow Sonic down and turn his game into a standard action beat-em-up. Not that I have complaints on how they handled it after the gameplay turn, I'm just questioning the gameplay idea itself. I know Sonic has had a history of terrible games, but I do not think this is the direction we need to turn to get the rodent back on the wagon. The game might be worth it for the day levels alone, when its just you, no sidekicks, no humans, just speed. Maybe someone just needs to finish Sonic Xtreme as a downloadable tie-in title, like Bionic Commando Rearmed, already.
News
- I seem to be all set for Irvine, registered for an advising session so I can finally register for classes (four days before the deadline, can't wait for all my choices).
- Someone asked me what my rent was for the house in Tustin, I would like to remind you its the one room and the shared bathroom, and its 575 a month, with utilities included, which is not bad for the OC.
Plugs
- As always, check out my best friend for-longer-than-forever, Bennett the Sage on Youtube at his new contributing position at thatguywiththeglasses.com or alongside myself on Gamepartisan
- Found this list that IGN did awhile back, on the top 25 PSX titles of all time. Thought it was worth a look, maybe you will too.
Update madness going on, I know. But I'm going to take you all back in time a few days to.....a few days, to describe me chilling with director on his last day residing in Riverside before making the move to LA and UCLA....the cockmelon. I weave you this tale to slowly draw my point around to my review of Steve Coogan's Hamlet 2, which was what he and I saw that night. So, without further ado (too late) let's get into the thick of it, shall we?
A Not-Quite Farewell
I wasn't expecting this dinner-and-a-movie deal at all until I received this call, otherwise I would have never been masturbating to the third Land Before Time movie and had been getting ready to appear in public. Nonetheless, my director, Brian Tan (aka BLT, aka BT, you'll remember him from my Diary of an AD posts here) gave my cell a ring late in the afternoon and asked if I wanted to celebrate his last day in the city with some dinner. I, being the annoyingly loyal friend I fool myself into being, agreed, and was picked up a few hours later.
sexiness
We had some debate on which food to partake of, BT has this annoyingly understandable standard for what he calls diner restaurants (Applebee's, Friday's and the like) to the point where the option of a Coco's in the area pretty much trumps all others. We had already had some food there a couple of nights before, so that was out. We eventually decided on the Olive Garden a city away and drove off, talking about the future plans of FPS Productions with both of us transferring to other UCs, and about all of the great adventures we had over the past two years. We arrived at the restaurant and waited the 15 minutes to be seated (it was a Friday night) and ate and continued to talk for another few hours. Riveting reading, I know.
We had decided earlier to go and check a flick at the theater a few blocks down, with both of our Student IDs meriting the best post-matinee tickets around. As BT had already seen both Tropic Thunder and Pineapple Express, it feel on me to decide, and being the person that likes to experience people's first reactions at the same time as my own, I opted for the movie neither of us had seen, Hamlet 2....more on that later.
Two hours later BT and I traveled to a park near his home, his favorite place in Riverside, and we cracked open a pair of Guinness' and further philosophized on life after the move. A lot of heart-to-heart went on, the deepest conversation I had for a long time, kind of cathartic in a way. I gave him the needed confidence boost to make the final move to LA, as he was missing the action of our co-founded club location, and he drove me home. Bittersweet goodbyes ensued, and the night ended on a happy, nostalgic note.
Now...on to the shit.
Mulled Over: Hamlet 2
Allow me to preface this review by saying that this is the worst movie I have seen in theaters in years, and the worst movie I have seen period since my freshman year in College when I was subjected to the horrors of 1997's Spanish Prisoner. Not all of the blame goes to the film's producers and cast, as the effort to pull of comedy was present and duly noted, but the tottering script, bland acting, and lazy narrative made this movie only viewable through cringed eyes and gritted teeth. The best analogy I can come up with is the friend that you all placate when he tells his jokes; he's not funny, and you know it, but you laugh to make him feel good and not cause a lot of trouble. Then, one night, out of nowhere, you see him ascending the stage at a local open mic and beg him with your eyes not to go through with it. As he begins to hit bomb after bomb, you feel an unwavering and deep sense of pity for the man. This movie is that friend, who you can see try just so damn hard to be funny, but never, save for a very few brief moments, succeeds.
Perhaps this rank sense of disappointment stems from just how much I wanted to see this movie based on the trailer. It boils down the plot to a musical about finding Jesus Christ sexy and a parody of the absurdity of theater ala Christopher Guest's Waiting for Guffman. The very idea of a film based around the idea of an idiot writing a sequel to the greatest play in the English language seemed like comedy gold. Toss in Amy Poehler in one of her snappishly witty supporting roles and I was hooked on the concept. Its to bad that this film, once put to the 100-minute execution, fails to capture the genius of the trailer.
We follow a failed commercial actor (commercial meaning TV spots, not the adjective) Dana Marschz (Steve Coogan, who deserves beter) reduced to teaching drama at a high school in Tucson, Arizona, right up to the point where the elective is canceled and he resolves to put on one last amazing show to fund raise the program back. A tired archetype of the art courses being sad causalities of more federal budget cuts and final acts of desperation, but that's the least of this film's worries. They some how thought that tacking on a subplot of another archetype, a class of minority and antisocial misfits coming together to save whatever, would make the final better. Instead, it makes a lackluster plot seem pretentious. I've never seen a film work so hard to make sure the audience knows exactly how and why the film's plot unfolds as it does. The very first class Coogan's Dana has with the minorities, he references multiple other films following the overcoming class stereotype (Dead Poet's Society, Mr. Holland's Opus, take your pick) and sets himself up under the archetype of the inspirational teacher. This. Is. Not. A. Joke.
The class themselves consist of the two white kids, one the stereotype of the gay theater guy and the other of the oh-so-charmingly racist Christian girl, and the rest the traditional ideas of Mexicans your overly vocal Grandmother blurts out at parties: the matronly friend, the gangbanger with normal people talents, the poser, and the shy girl. No bloody kidding. You can predict, and you'd be right, that all of them bind together after their teacher looses faith, and the racist white cunt will fall in love (unconvincingly and completely out of the blue) with the most Mexican of the Mexicans and the gay guy comes to terms with who he is. There is also a subplot of Dana's wife (Catherine Keener) growing increasingly frustrated and leaving him for his annoyingly stupid roommate and Elizabeth Shue failing to act as her-own-bloody-self, but it shares the same horrid quality of writing and execution that it doesn't merit any more mention. Dana is also tortured by a student critic at the high school that somehow writes like a graduate student at Berkeley and the school's....administrator or something, that spurs the town against the play for its supposed graphic ideas. By the time the film actually gets to Hamlet 2 being written, I would bet most people not so desperately hoping the movie would pick up would have left the theater and demanded refunds.
It seemed impossible, but the film actually had a story-within-a story plot line of Hamlet finding a time machine and with the help of Jesus Christ, returning to save Denmark, and they couldn't pull a single laugh from the theater I was sitting in. I don't know how, and I cannot explain, but it just isn't funny. Even Amy Poehler as an obnoxious ACLU drone loses some of her saving grace by speaking some tired and cliche lines like I'm going to sue everyone here! The musical numbers of the film, written by one of the team behind South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut (and no, its not Trey Parker OR Matt Stone) have a beat and lyrics, but nothing that registers as humorous or entertaining, its as if the film's dialog was transcribed to a melody and put to lame choreography. There was no offensive material that I could see, aside from the sexual perception of Christ, but....whatever.
Aside from the terrible script and lackluster acting, the direction and cinematography of the film do nothing to promote any sense of artistic direction. Shots are pitifully straight-forward and it seems that there was no creativity in the photography department either. Costumes are run-of-the-mill and the art direction can snatch a double take once in a great while, but other than that, there are absolutely no redeeming features to this film, none. It hurts because I spent the entire film focusing my mental energy to try and somehow make this movie funny, even if it was just on the level of the ____ Movies like Date Movie and Epic Movie. As far as I can tell, its only lasting value is a blotch on the IMDB page of anyone involved with it.
I tried to like you, Hamlet 2, I really truly tried.
A quick bit of slice-of-life as I wrap up on a good amount of new postable-pieces, shall we? Coming your way is a new Top Ten, some new graphics, another Mulled Over movie review, and a bunch of random thoughts to keep the oddness of my being fresh in your mind. You'll be seeing those in the next couple of days, but for now, let's talk about how I hate my new house...
(We once again return to me posting pictures that reflect what I am saying, although are not taken by me, just a general reminder)
From the IE to the OC
Today was the day that I had to make my way down to Tustin, CA to meet with my new landlord and check out my digs for a 6 month lease (at least) while I round out my undergraduate studies at the University of California, Irvine. As my luck would have it, I continue my trend of living in the boondocks of the respective cities of my colleges, this time in a completely different town all together! But more on that in a bit, let's bitch about how much it was a bugger to get down there in the first place.
As it was a Sunday, I was expecting travel to be a bit of bitch, but the Metrolink station (a railed mass transit system ala San Fransisco's Bart train) only had one train going down into Orange County that day, and it was at 9:15 that morning. The waking up was no issue, I had gotten used to earlier hours working on the film set a week or so prior. My roommates were out the night/morning previous partying, and the one charged with driving me the mile or so to the Station was wasted enough to be impossible to wake. Luckily, my other roommate was conscious enough to be awoken by my knocking at the opposite door and offered to drive me if I would stop the racket. I agreed, and we were off.
I arrived at the station shortly before my train was supposed to take off, apparently too shortly. You know how, in most films, whenever a main character misses a taxi, bus, train, or car, its always by THAT much, so they run and wave their arms in vain in the direction of the receding vehicle? Yeah, that was me. Bloody fucking cockmelon of a morning that was. This uniformed bitch was apparently humored enough by my running jiggliness to inform me that it was, indeed, the only train going out that day. I cursed under my breath and collapsed on a nearby bench, defeated. I then, after a brief moment of self-pity, began the rapid-fire friend calling.
Even single person I knew the area got a voicemail message of me, sadly lamenting my situation and begging for a transport (with compensated gas for good measure). Unfortunately, none were able to provide, as I found out gradually as I walked from the station to the bus stop to return home, stopping at an ATM to deposit some cash on the way. I briefly checked into the Greyhound station to see if they went anywhere near Irvine, but was denied. I caught a bus back home and sulked as the last of my friends texted me with regrets. In desperation, I re-knocked on my wasted roommate's door and was able to bring her still-dizzy body to cognitive reason with my pitiful railings.
We then set sail on multiple freeways toward Tustin, along the way my roommate retold some of the more humorous aspects of her partying. We arrived in less than an hour, and I traveled around the townhouse complex trying to remember what bloody number to look for. After a few calls to the landlord, Michelle, I found #42 and got a brief tour of the place.
Not that I'm too picky, but this room was about 2/3 the size of my current room (not so much a big deal) and AC-less (gigantic, colossal, humongous, extraordinarily fucking big deal!), but due to time constraints I signed a check for the first month's rent and the deposit then and there and shoved my ass out to explore the city before catching a Metrolink back home.
As I was walking along the streets around Tustin, I noticed a disturbing lack of bus stops in the area. I would later find out that my student ID will act as a free bus pass, and that the needed stop to get to campus was within a quasi-reasonable walking distance, but around that time it added to my stress. I eventually found my way to the Metro station and bought a ticket to San Bernadino (it wouldn't allow me to buy a ticket direct to Riverside for some reason) and took a break at the Jack in the Box a few blocks away. Watched an episode of the West Wing on my computer while I ate some mozzarella sticks (first time eating) and passed the time. I was able to return to the station and hitch my ride, and I spent the next hour or so on the train listening to my walkman and thinking about the article I needed to write for Game Partisan and my next Top Ten (seriously, no life here.)
How I could afford all this stress
A few days before all this crap I was fortunate enough to be drafted into a side film project with my director. In addition to our own short films, FPS Productions acts as professional videographers for weddings, bar mitzfahs, etc. The day's deal was a 4 hour wedding/reception at a local park, with a 100 buck payroll. Being in my predictably poor state, I called and confirmed my shift, and we shipped down to the Citrus Grove/Park.
The ordeal was rather painless, a short ceremony of two Mexican families, in a canopy in the back of a nice little country club-esque building. The minister spoke in both Spanish and English, which made the traditional speech of do you take this woman... take on a rather interesting undertone, but my duty was to act as video cameraman as my director ran about taking stills of the occasion. Thankfully the family didn't want anything too special, meaning I could set up the camera on a tripod and follow the action while drinking a soda on their tab.
After the vows/rings/applauding crap came my (and everybody's) least part about weddings: group photos. This time, I got to be the person everyone hated, the annoying guy setting everyone up for the shot, organizing them into rows and whatnot. When it was just the bride and groom it was rather fun, modeling them into romantic poses and framing the shot made me feel very professional, which is always a good thing. But keeping two families, both of which contain crumbly old cogers that probably won't last the week, from killing each other long enough for a couple of shots was pushing it.
The reception lasted much longer, with us taking filler shots of the table settings and wedding gifts as the people sat down, later getting crowd shots of people laughing and talking with the couple. Once food was dished out, we buzzed around as shutterbugs are prone to do, snapping away at what looked good on camera, until everyone had seconds and we were contractually obliged to have a break and eat some of the catered food. Not bad, roast with roasted potatoes, with the option of buttered carrots w/ onions and a house salad. Good rolls, too.
Once dinner was over it was the final traditional fare: cutting of the cake, toasts from the best man, and dancing. The DJ (nice guy, wants to collaborate with us in the future...hehe) actually played the Chicken Dance (a wedding staple from what I heard, although I loathe the shit) and no one danced, most likely because they were all unaware of the largely American tradition. Once the Hispanic national music started up, everyone filled the dance floor and we got the last shots we needed before making our exit.
The final product for all of the weddings we do is twofold: an edited video ranging from 3-15 minutes (depending on what they want) and an edited photo slideshow. Thankfully I don't know the first thing about all that post-stuff, so I was just able to take the money and run, as it were.
More on slice-of-life later
I got another story that involves me and my director spending his last day in the city out and around town, but I don't think I have the energy for that right now, so expect that, along with my Mulled Over review of Hamlet 2 coming some time tomorrow.
Random Thoughts
Am I the only one that doesn't give a crap about Mario?
If three mozzarella sticks cost $1.39, how does it make mathematical sense to charge an extra 3 bucks for four more?
If I was President, I would make it illegal for any building that acted as a public living space to not contain air conditioning....
News
-I am now a g1! Ported over a couple of my older blogs from here across to their side of the internets, and plan on sending over at least one a day until I run out. Come visit me over at screwattack.com under the same name....although I'll be posting the same stuff over there as over here.......weee....
-Didn't get the contributing post , oh well. Lost by one vote....bummer....its cool. Supposedly they will do this multiple times, I'll just catch the next one.
-Come visit me on Facebook if your desperate to waste a few hours going through all my apps.
Plugs
- As always, check out my best friend for-longer-than-forever, Bennett the Sage's, pad on Youtube, at his new contributing position at thatguywiththeglasses.com or alongside myself on Gamepartisan
- This is a nifty little site featuring a ton of independently created adventure games ala early Lucasarts. Kinda cool.
Sorry I haven't been around for a while, those 13-hour shoots are killer. Especially for three days in a row, some nights I couldn't physically move long enough to get my things sorted for the next day. It did help me get to sleep quicker than I had been able to in months, but I'm definitely not going to miss the hours. I decided to just combine the final shoot weekend into one piece, rather than dwell on it too long in many blog posts. I was able to take and upload some pictures from my cell, so finally I'll be able to post pictures of what it exactly looks like to film with my company, rather than just doing a Google Image search. This is going to be another long one, but hopefully alot more interesting than a vocabulary cheat sheet.
a costume rack, because I couldn't find any other place to put it
Diary of an AD - Day 3
Friday, August 22nd, 2008
here is the hangar we used as our main set, down in Arlington in Riverside, California, took this photo on Saturday, when we were filming the helicopter sequences
For the next three days I would be required to get up around six in the morning and be driven to the set by my assistant AD, Kari, while listening to her vast collection of Bollywood music. It grows on you after a while, I'll admit. We stopped at a gas station for me to pick up some Gatorade for us both (5 bucks for two bottle?!?) and hit the freeway down to Arlington Road to the set. For the morning shots today, it was an early scene in the film with two of our lead cast, Locke and King, played by Farid Pourgadhiri and Wayne Stribling Jr., respectively. The afternoon would be devoted to the longest scene in the film, the one with the heaviest dialog and most shots needed to be taken. The location for this and most of the next few days was an airport hangar two blocks from where we shot our first big film, complete with helicopters and all the neat aeronautical gadgets one could expect. It was fascinating, taking time out of my duties to check out all the devices inside the helicopter on set (this one would not move, but would be within the shot as set decor,) not that I know anything about scientific equipment, but the pretty lights and various dials amuse me.
from the front angle, the copter looks like a bug...
Kari and I arrived somewhat late to the shoot, as the majority of the crew were buzzing around the set with their various jobs in preparation for the first shot of the day. We set up shop in the adjoining weight room of the hangar (all of this owned by a man named Jim, who was the epitome of awesomeness for allowing us to use it), all of the personal items of the crew would be stored here during takes, and it acted as a rest area for actors not on standby. The air conditioning would draw many of those on set to new levels of laziness during the day, as could be expected when temperatures in the hangar reached groggy heights around midday. Once we had coordinated the schedule with Richard Zapp, our producer and location manager, we headed out and began our duties.
comedy
