Sunday, July 25, 2010

Quite a bit of catching up

OK, let's start with today. I finally found the time and courage to watch the ultimate cut of Watchmen, and the parts during which I didn't zone out were pretty good, I guess. This movie, and especially this 215-minute cut, is a mixed bag of all kinds of crazy stuff. I absolutely adore the original graphic novel by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, which I guess is one of the reasons why I feel so ambivalent about it. Another would be the fact that I really really liked Zack Snyder's remake of Dawn of the Dead, but since then I've learned that without a solid script by James Gunn Mr. Snyder's work tends to get all over the place. I mean, 300 was on OK movie, but his next film is going to feature talking animated owls, dramatic slow motion shots included! That's just seven different kinds of lame. And then there's the acting in Watchmen, which is generally just awful. Most of the actors look right for their roles, and I know that at least some of them are actually pretty good at their job, but somehow they all manage to deliver their lines in the most boring and stupid way possible. Maybe Mr. Moore was right and some comic books should never be adapted into anything that isn't a comic book, but I'd like to think that it could have been done much better. That said, I'm the sort of person who'll watch anything with Matt Frewer, especially if he's wearing some kind of facial prosthetics, so not all the performances were a total loss. And Malin Åkerman always does a really nice job playing really hot chicks, especially ones who like to have hot naked sex in chilly hovercrafts. My biggest problem with the movie was of course its conclusion. It's like, what, they ran out of money near the end so they just decided to skip the whole monster thing? You do not skip the monster! You never ever skip the monster! Why would anyone want to take a story that ends with a cool looking giant monster and make a movie out of it that has absolutely no monsters in it?! This is completely beyond me. Aren't giant tentacle monsters the main reason why people go to the movies in the first place? Or is it just me? What a stupid, stupid thing to do. I would've happily overlooked everything else, even the cool-yet-wholly-unnecessary gore, had they just given me my beloved multicolored monster. But they chose not to. Hence, they suck. The ultimate cut is basically the 186-minute director's cut with Tales of the Black Freighter edited into it. I have to admit that I never really got the point of the Black Freighter story in the original work, but this animated version makes even less sense edited into the rest of the film like that. It's completely distracting, and it turns a ridiculously long movie into a near-unwatchable one. I still kinda like the film version of Watchmen, but it's going to be a long while before I ever go near it again, and it's definitely not going to be this cut of the film. Three and a half hours is just too long for an action movie, and if you can't tell a story in less than two hours you shouldn't be making movies. I hear they can do wonderful things with television these days.

Who watches Malin Åkerman? I have no idea, but don't they
have the awesomest job in the world?

A couple of weeks ago I went to see Les Aventures extraordinaires d'Adèle Blanc-Sec (The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec), directed by Luc Besson and based on the French-Belgian comics by Jacques Tardi. It was pretty cool, if a bit too French for my liking. French films are known far and wide for featuring extremely unfunny humor and women with unattractive mole patterns, and this one is no different, but there was enough cool CGI in it to keep me happy, including an adorable baby pterosaur and a whole lot of reanimated mummies. Louise Bourgoin was pretty good as the pre-WWI Parisian journalist/adventurer, and she does show her boobs in the movie, so I thought that was worth mentioning. Personally, I would have preferred more screen time for the cute pterosaur instead, but I guess that's just me again.

Nice belly button, Louise Bourgoin!

I also finally watched Gentlemen Broncos, and it was totally friggin' awesome! It was written and directed by the guy who made Napoleon Dynamite, but it's so much better than that. Jemaine Clement is hilarious as usual, and the rest of the cast does an incredible job portraying characters that are sad, pathetic and utterly clueless, and yet pretty damn charming in their own various ways. It's the sort of movie that was obviously made with deep passion for classic science fiction, fans of science fiction and hopeless dorks everywhere, so really, how could I possibly not fall in love with it? The Yeast Lords sequences, starring Sam Rockwell as some sort of long haired futuristic dude who rides a flying laser-shooting deer and for some reason keeps losing his balls, are worth the price of admission alone. Which I happened to not pay. Because I was forced to download it in HD. Because they never showed it in theaters here. Because they are retarded. And probably devoid of any reproductive organs. Unless you count anuses as reproductive organs, which is just fine an a life style, but does tend to produce rather unattractive babies. Brown babies. Smelly babies. Babies so foul you can't really do anything with them except flush them right down the toilet, to live among giant sewer alligators and mutated talking turtles. Awesome.

Halley Feiffer. Dorks are totally hot!

Even before I visited Hamburg I went to see The Disappearance of Alice Creed. I guess it was a pretty good movie, but that's not really why I or anyone else with a penis would enjoy it. You want to know the real reason? I've got three words for you: Gemma. Arterton. Naked. It doesn't get much better than that. Or doesn't it? What if we'll throw in some handcuffs? Pretty hot, right? Yeah. That's the good stuff. But wait, it gets even better! How about a shiny red ball gag? That's just enough to make you cream your pants, isn't it? Which brings me to the final selling point. If you'll decide to watch The Disappearance of Alice Creed, you are going to get a chance to see Gemma Arterton pee in a bedpan. That's right. A bedpan. By now, if you still haven't started looking for a way to see the movie, you're probably some sort of chick, and for that you have my full sympathies. And hey, did you know that Ms. Arterton was born with six fingers in each hand? If that's not the hottest thing I've ever heard, then I don't know what is!

If you look closely enough, you can kinda make out the scars!

I also watched Fantastic Mr. Fox, at home, in HD, once again because they never showed it in theaters here, even though they were supposed to. Which is a big fat shame, because for a movie with lots of cute talking animals it is actually beyond great. I love stop-motion animation and I love stop-motion animation that's meant for adults, but most of all I love adult stop-motion animation that's actually good. Because the basic concept of this type of animation is so, well, basic (not to say primitive), you can see quite a bit of it out there these days, but most of it is pure crap, the main flaw being poor character design. Look for the trailer for an Israeli/Australian co-production called $9.99 and you'll know what I mean. Fantastic Mr. Fox, however, is beautiful to behold in every way, and the story is pretty cool too. Something about a talking fox who likes to get drunk on cider, I think. The only thing I didn't like about it was George Clooney's voice work, but it's not really his fault that he sounds like a smug douche, now is it?

It was either this or a photo of Meryl Streep. *shudders*

I also went to see the new Nightmare on Elm Street remake, and it was pretty boring actually. I expected much more from the guy who directed all those cool Garbage videos back in the '90s, but I guess it just goes to show you that you can't trust anybody these days. There was absolutely nothing cool or interesting or special about it, and the new Freddy makeup design was a huge disappointment. I don't care that he looks more like a real burn victim now! He just doesn't look cool anymore!!! The whole thing was a complete waste of my time, and there wasn't even any noteworthy TnA to help pass that long hour and a half. What an utter waste of a perfectly good mythology. And you just know that they're going to make a sequel in a couple of years, which I'm going to have to sit through once again, so they better wise up by then and cast a bunch of genuinely hot chicks who can actually look scared and not wear a bra at the same time.

If you poop in your dreams, you poop for real!

I also watched the original I Spit on Your Grave, and despite the plot being about a chick who gets gang raped and then kills her attackers off one by one, it was actually pretty awful. The 1978 Dumb Broad Award goes to Camille Keaton for marrying Meir Zarchi, the Israeli director of I Spit on Your Grave. Here's a tip for all you ladies out there: if some sleazy Middle Eastern dude makes you roll around naked in a forest and get pretend-raped by a bunch of rednecks for half a movie with promises of fame and fortune, it might be a good idea to not marry him. Got it? Sleazy Israeli, butt rape, no marriage. There. I just saved you a lifetime of grief and bad hummus. On the other hand, the trailer for the new remake looks pretty damn good. Let us all just hope that when the time comes I'll be able to keep my pants zipped all the way up at the theater!

This is what happens when you get involved with a creepy Israeli dude.

Finally, last week I saw Inception, but I need to see it at least one more time before I can write anything half-coherent about it. Yeah, it was that kind of awesome.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

A very late vacation post... with hookers!

Last month I went on an eight day visit to Hamburg, as a guest of the senate, and it was so totally friggin' awesome that I very nearly wet myself when it was time to get back to the smelly, lint-filled belly button of the Middle East. Every large European city I've ever been to is pretty and cool and interesting in its own way, especially when you compare it to the sun-scorched cultural semi-desert I usually inhabit, but the city of Hamburg, with its gorgeous maritime glory and unadulterated free-for-all sleaze, really does take the giant slice of warm apfelstrudel with a couple of scoops of vanilla ice cream on the side.

I'll start with the obvious: German chicks are just too lovely for their own good. It was an absolute thrill to be around so many attractive young ladies who were so terrifically out of my league that it wasn't even remotely funny. Well, maybe just a little. Everywhere I'd look there were always at least one or two members of the female persuasion whom I would have been more than happy to bang deeply, had I been about 40 years younger. In just eight short days I've managed to accumulate enough masturbatory material in my head to last me a lifetime, or at least until the end of the Hebrew year. Our group was accompanied by these two student chicks who were just as cute as the proverbial button, and I even got to touch one of them! Twice! I mean, sure, they were just friendly handshakes, but I was still pretty damn excited. I can only hope that one day I'd be able to gather enough courage to be rejected by a genuine German chick, and then I could finally die a happy dork.

A cute German chick enjoying a light meal by the water, completely unaware of the creepy stalker standing right behind her

German teenagers lying face down on the ground. Is there anything more arousing?


More boobs.

Even more boobs!

And a little something for the ladies

The main sleaze attraction in Hamburg is of course the Reeperbahn in the St. Pauli quarter, a street chock full of sex shops, sex clubs and even a red light district type of place just around the corner, bringing you anything from designer dildos and vintage pornography to steamy lap dances and daytime €100 blowjobs from high-class prostitutes as old as your mom! I've only visited Herbertstraße (that's where the nice ladies who take it up the bum for cash live) during the day, so I'm guessing the hookers I got to see sitting by those windows weren't exactly the city's finest, but they were all nice enough to try and invite me inside. They even called me 'mein Herr'! I thought it was very kind of them to notice my particular gender like that and not throw rotten eggs and bags of pee at me, the way they normally would at any non-professional female who'd be courageous and/or foolish enough to enter their domain. Too bad you can't take any pictures in there, because I could've spent literally hours looking at their photos back at home and not using them in any kind of way!

Danger! Free range hookers beyond these gates!

There's no wonder why I came back here about 20kg heavier, as I did eat like a slobbering pot belly pig the whole time I was in Hamburg. They kept feeding us and offering free booze, so really, how could I possibly resist? I mean come on, the hotel we stayed at had free friggin' champagne at breakfast! And at the official lunch at the Rathaus there were these nice old waiters whose only job was to refill our wine glasses! And the beer was absolutely fantastic, unlike anything I've ever tasted before. My favorite was Franziskaner Weissbier, which is by far the best tasting beverage I have ever had the pleasure of getting drunk on that has a picture of a Christian dude on the label.

An adorable pot belly pig at Wildpark Schwarze Berge

The Rathaus

Inside the Rathaus, where we had lunch

Just enjoying a nice cool beer and watching the World Cup like a regular human male

Having a quince flavored Bionade at Hagenbeck Zoo. That's what the German astronauts drink in outer space!

This little thing, eaten on a really fancy boat ride, probably cost me about 5kg alone

On Friday they took us to the local synagogue, which was as thrilling an experience as anyone could have not doing anything for an hour except standing up and sitting back down on cue. I also got yelled at by a group of scary old dudes with big bushy beards and funny hats for taking this photo here outside after the service, even though it wasn't technically shabat yet! People who believe that the world was created by an angry grandpa who lives on a cloud up in the sky and spies on them when they go to the bathroom can sure be silly sometimes.

Take THAT, every rabbi who was ever mean to me in school!

Sadly, Jewish cemeteries in Israel are never this creepy

We were also invited for a night at the theater at the expense of the German tax payer, which meant going to see a stage production based on a Disney cartoon, in German. I ended up liking it so much that as soon as I got back home I downloaded the original animated version in HD, even though a bluray edition isn't even available yet. I especially liked it how they incorporated the legendary lion sex scene back into the special edition of the movie, as it was originally intended to be shown. Sure, it can get a little graphic for the younger viewers, especially when Simba has finally managed to ejaculate inside his girlfriend and is having trouble pulling out (boy, those animators sure did their research!), but I think it adds a lot of much needed humor to the film. Besides, as any pedo would be happy to tell you, kids can handle a lot more than most people would guess, and I don't think anybody ever got seriously damaged from watching kitties hump.

König der Löwen at Theater im Hafen

Extremely endangered animals at Hagenbeck Zoo

A black dude humping a giraffe in front of Hagenbeck's

Tonight's entertainment choices: Avatar and hardcore German
porn. This gets very close to my idea of heaven on earth

I was pretty bummed out when I had to say my goodbyes to the beautiful city of Hamburg, especially with how all the Israeli women on the flight back home looked like horrible green ogres in comparison to the German variety, but I'm definitely going to visit it again in the future, and hopefully by the time of my next visit I'd be man enough to walk up to one of the more passable-looking ladies on Herbertstraße, pay the required fee in crisp €100 bills and then run for my dear life as soon as she takes off a single article of clothing. I yam what I yam after all.