Posted in: Disc Reviews by M. W. Phillips on August 2nd, 2011
“Zippedy Doo-Dah. Zippedy Yay. My, oh my, I got a wonderful slave.”
I’ve never really been a big fan of director Gary Marshall’s films. I prefer his work as a producer of classic sitcoms, like The Odd Couple and Happy Days. Marshall’s most popular film, Pretty Woman, plays off the Cinderella cliché a little too much for my taste, with a man ultimately finding and saving a woman by redefining her. Three years before Pretty Woman, Marshall explored these same themes in Overboard, but instead of slick fantasy salvation at the hands of a wealthy Richard Gere, the redemption comes from a misogynistic and cruel Kurt Russell.
Posted in: Disc Reviews by M. W. Phillips on July 29th, 2011
In 2007, writer-directors Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza created [REC], a truly frightening horror film. Considering their subject matter is so familiar to audiences it proved a major challenge not to fall into clichés. Somehow, against all odds, [REC] remained fresh by blending the elements so well… nasty contagion and fast zombies ala 28 Days Later captured in documentary-syle videography made famous by The Blair Witch Project. Add likable lead characters, natural dialog, horrific gore and scream-at-the-screen suspense; sprinkle in clues of a disturbing spiritual origin to the mysterious virus and you end up with one of the scariest and most effective additions to both the zombie and “found footage” horror sub-genres.
To appreciate the sequel, [REC]2, one should take the time to watch the first film, but if you haven’t, here is a brief spoiler filled synopsis of [REC]. A local Spanish TV journalist and her cameraman are embedded with a group of firefighters for the night as part of a human interest segment on their magazine news show. A routine call to an old apartment building on the outskirts of Madrid immediately leads to the team being sealed inside by a government quarantine trying to contain the origin of a ferocious viral pandemic. The news team chronicles the firefighters’ efforts to battle the frenzied, ravenous infected and escape the building, avoiding viral contamination or getting shot by government snipers.
Posted in: Disc Reviews by M. W. Phillips on July 25th, 2011
“Look, you got what you wanted, I'm officially out of control.”
Based loosely on (Executive Producer) Mark Walberg’s meteoric rise to fame, Entourage has always been a male bonding fantasy; it plays like a boys-will-be-boys version of Sex in the City. Following Vincent Chase (Adrian Grenier) and his posse’s misadventures through the decadent lifestyles of the hyper-rich and fabulously famous carried with it a certain insider’s credibility and made for fun, if not slightly debauched TV voyeurism. HBO sweetened the deal by liberally mixing in hard body nudity with jaw-dropping self-satirizations from a slew of Hollywood cameos the like not seen since The Larry Sanders Show.
Posted in: Disc Reviews by M. W. Phillips on July 25th, 2011
“Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair, shining gleaming steaming flaxen waxen. Give me it down to there, hair, shoulder length or longer, here, baby, there, mamma, everywhere, daddy, daddy hair! Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair!”
Born in the late 50s, I was a child of 60s and a teen in the 70s. I believed in the revolution. The Beatles and The Stones would lead the charge against the establishment. I grew my hair to mid back, stayed perpetually high, experimented sexually and washed infrequently. I used my selective service draft card to clean the seeds out of my pot. I was hippy and Hair was our manifesto. Now, I speak of the cult Broadway musical, Hair. The songs were prophecy of the future when the flower power movement finally conquered the squares. The lockstep Nixon youth, Wall Street plutocrats and pickled religious zealots would fall under the spell of free thinking and free love. Jupiter aligned with Mars. Peace would guide the planet and love would steer the stars. It was the dawning Age of Aquarius, man.
Posted in: Disc Reviews by M. W. Phillips on July 16th, 2011
“The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club!”
Now, let me be the millionth critic to break those rules… Back in 1997, David Fincher received a call from his agent, Josh Donen, who’d just finished Chuck Palahniuk's novel Fight Club and tried to talk Fincher into reading it. Even at a brisk 208 pages, Fincher passed on it, protesting being too busy to read books. So Donen read the Raymond K. Hessel scene over the phone, the one where Tyler puts the gun to the convenience store clerk’s head and tells him, "I know who you are. I know where you live. I'm keeping your license, and I'm going to check on you, Mister Raymond K. Hessel. In three months, and then in six months, and then in a year, and if you aren't in school on your way to being a veterinarian, you will be dead."