Southland Tales

When Friend and I started doing this blog, I never wanted it to be an avenue for Movie Reviews. Even though movies are our lives, I didn’t want to be someone else you came to for opinions of movies. I see everything I can get my eyes on, and that’s what I want to continue to recommend to our readers: See movies.

I saw a movie yesterday that was worth talking about: “Southland Tales.” This is the closest thing to a movie review you are ever going to get out of me. It probably won’t happen again, but like I said, this one is just worth it.

I read reviews from time to time. And I know that they always start with a short plot outline. This is going to be tough for me, since this particular film did not have one. This is a movie where so many things are going on at once, it’s impossible to follow the plot much less care about it. Same with all of the characters; you cant relate to any of their situations, so it makes it rough to care for them. This movie was just scene after scene after scene of pure chaotic randomness. Entertaining? Yes, but hard for me to attempt giving you any kind of a synopsis what so ever. So, I’m just going to share with you a plot-less recap of some things that went on, and maybe you can piece it together yourself.

Ok. The Rock plays a former military vet who is now an actor. His girlfriend is a porn star played by Sarah Michelle Geller, who is very hot in this movie. (SMG fans: buy a ticket, you will not be disappointed.) Her character hosts a show on TV much like “The View” minus the older women plus three other porn stars who talk with each other about how hard they like to get fucked. She wants to capitalize on her porn stardom by putting out a clothing line, CD, energy drink, and all that other shit. Her and The Rock have put their heads together to write a screenplay describing how the world ends. Justin Timberlake spends the entire movie hanging out at the Santa Monica Pier. He walks around the arcade lip-singing The Killer’s songs while a bunch of white-haired nurses dance on the ski-ball machines. Two SUV’s have sex with each other much like Elephants would. Sean William Scott plays a cop that agrees to let The Rock follow him around on duty to research his future role in the screenplay he co-wrote. The Rock’s amnesia or schizophrenia kicks in when he witnesses a murder on this venture. Cheri Oteri rollerblades around Venice Beach wearing a blue mesh bra on the outside of her shirt. The Rock’s wife is played by innocent little Mandy Moore, who says “Fuck,” “Cock,” and “Shit” all the same sentence. Her dad is a leader of some Political Party. There are midgets. In 2008, people wear futuristic see-through rain jackets as shirts. There is a party on a blimp. There is a time travel device that sends a clone of you back in time. If you meet your clone, you can open a deminsional portal but shaking their hand. If this takes place inside of an Ice cream truck, it will levitate up in the sky, high above the Staples Center. The Rock can’t decide if he is really himself or the character he plays in his movie. This is triggered by a lady on the beach who tells the rock she is going to shoot herself in the head if he doesn’t let her suck his dick right there. There are tons of other cameos (my favorite from Kevin Smith) and that’s pretty much it for the movie. Oh, I think the world ends, but I’m still not sure on that one. I might have left a few things out, but trust me; they wouldn’t make the plot anymore digestible.

When I first heard about this movie I was pumped. It had a big named cast and was written and directed by Richard Kelly, the man responsible for my favorite movie: Donnie Darko. I still have yet to meet Kelly, but after seeing this film I don’t think I want to. Not just because this movie didn’t meet my expectations, but because he now stands for everything I am against in filmmaking. He doesn’t give enough of a shit about his audience to allow the movie to make any sense what so ever. I’m sure it made sense in his eyes, but that is selfish filmmaking. Let us in on the story too. I know he also doesn’t care if anyone liked it, or if Roger Ebert gave him a horrible review, or even if after a week at the box office it has made less than $150,000. He is defending his vision and boldly standing up for artistic expression, which is sometimes honorable… But in this case it’s just filmmaking in its laziest form.

*** I didn’t write any of this to keep you from seeing this Film. That’s why I don’t like reviews. Go see the movie if you want to see it. Just hurry, because it won’t be in theatres for very long.

AJ

Autographing

I think I had always planned on being famous. I used to practice my signature all the time. This started in high school and just turned into an OCD thing over the years. Every time I had something to write with and something else to write on, my signature was sure to follow. Checks were my favorite, but I only got to sign one of those at the beginning of every month. The only thing I needed to write checks for in college was rent. Now I write them almost non-stop. Well, I have someone write them for me, which is almost the same thing. Only now, my assistant has one of those self-inking stamps with my signature on it, and he just slams it down upon my approval. I remember when I had that thing made; I must have signed my name a hundred times trying to get the perfect one for the template.

That’s something I’ve yet to see with a celebrity. I can picture it though, and I laugh when I do. Imagine Justin Timberlake out shopping when he is spotted by a crowd of fans…. all wanting autographs. Timberlake, who is in hurry but still wants to please his admirers, pulls out a self-inking signature stamper and goes to town on them. He makes it through the entire group in under a minute and is back on his way. As practical as that seems, it would never happen. At least not for Justin. He’s way too famous to go out in public like that. He has to have people do his shopping for him. I often wonder how he likes not being able to go out like a normal person. I’m sure at first it might be neat to watch people go ape shit at the very sight of you, but after a while I think it would have to suck.

I’m content with my level of fame. Since I spend all of my time on the other side of the camera, it’s possible for people to not know who I am. I’m fine with that because not only do I make more money than the people in front of the camera, but I get to do something I thoroughly enjoy with a certain level of anonymity. Which is great for me, because I can still have fans that appreciate my work without sacrificing my love for going to the grocery store. I may not be able to dance as well as Timberlake, but at least I can buy my Nutella in peace.

AJ