Cochese Reviews Old Ass Movies: True Romance

Okay, okay, while I don’t find True Romance to be exactly old, considering that the movie came out in 1993, I’m  going to have to eventually come to the realization that pretty soon, we’re going to be seeing the 20th anniversary releases of movies that came out while I was in high school. That’s kind of depressing when you think about it.

I am fairly certain that this movie as well as other things like Vanishing Point after having watched Death Proof. Quentin Tarantino loves to reference old ass movies in his own movies, and True Romance is no different. Off the top of my head, I remember this movie referencing Mr. Majestyk, The Mack, and Sonny Chiba’s The Street Fighter. It’s a shame that Netflix doesn’t have The Street Fighter, Sonny Chiba is great.

True Romance is a 1993 action comedy movie written by Quentin Tarantino and directed by Tony Scott. It stars Patricia Arquette and Christian Slater, but has everyone under the sun playing minor roles. Let’s go down the list. Dennis Hopper, Val Kilmer (though you never see his face), Gary Oldman, Brad Pitt, Christopher Walken, Bronson Pinchot, Samuel L. Jackson, Mike Rapaport, James Gandolfini, Tom Sizemore, Chris Penn, and Saul Rubinek.

Sure, some of those names aren’t immediately recognizable, so let me inspire you to have an, “Oh, that guy!” moment. You may remember Bronson Pinchot as the art dealer in Beverly Hills Cop, but most everyone else remembers him as Balki Bartokomous from Perfect Strangers. Michael Rapaport has done a number of starring and recurring TV roles the past few years, from Prison Break to Boston Public to My Name is Earl. Sadly, though, I always remember him as one of the Popcopy employees from Chapelle’s Show. Saul Rubinek is typically one of those people that you see in a guest role on most everything so that you recognize his face, but never remember his name. I know him from Dick, in which he played Kissinger, and Masters of Horror episode “The Washingtonians.” Recently he’s been playing the curator in the Sci-Fi Channel’s original series Warehouse 13. I absolutely refuse to spell that channel in its new, wrong way.

Patricia Arquette and Christian Slater play Alabama Whitman and Clarence Worley, a couple of low rent-types that find themselves in over their heads. Alabama is a call girl who’s only been at it a couple of times. Her unknowing john is Clarence Worley, where she manages to spill popcorn all over Worley in the middle of a Sonny Chiba triple feature. Long story short, they fall in love. Unfortunately, Alabama’s a call girl and she has a pimp. Clarence takes care of the pimp in a very amateur way and instead of getting Alabama’s things, he winds up (accidentally) with several million dollars worth of cocaine that didn’t belong to him (or the pimp). This pretty much sets up the rest of the movie to end with a Mexican standoff with the cops, a movie producer’s thuggish bodyguards, and the mob, with Alabama and Clarence in the middle of it all.

Unlike other Bonnie and Clyde-type things like Natural Born Killers or the Space song “Me & You Vs. the World“, Alabama actually makes it to the end of the movie unscathed. Everyone else, not so much for the most part.

I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, some parts especially, but there are a couple of things that annoyed the hell out of me. First off, dude works in a comic book store and is driving around in a purple Cadillac? I don’t think so. And secondly? Opening and closing the movie with an explanatory voiceover. YUCK YUCK YUCK. Voiceover can be done well, particularly in cinéma noir, and occasionally in more modern stuff like Fight Club, but in this movie it came off as cheap and lazy and completely out of character for a writer so well known for his dialogue.

As for the parts of the movies I did like? Dennis Hopper’s monologue to Christopher Walken was brilliant, if a bit disturbing. It’s written well, but I’m still not a fan of the n-word being dropped as a pejorative, particularly by whites. Other than that though? It’s up there as one of the all-time pre-death monologues. I compare it favorably to Rocco’s joke in The Boondock Saints.

And for a bit of the ultraviolence, Patricia Arquette’s killing of James Gandolfini is a phenomenal scene. It’s directed very well. I’m a fan of having violence be implied off camera or in silhouette. I gotta say, Tony Soprano dies in real messy fashion, in a way involving shampoo and a corkscrew.

One moment that gave me a chuckle was Bronson Pinchot’s character’s name. He was Elliot Blitzer, which I find amusing given that there’s a character in the movie that plays a call girl, and that’s what former New York governor Eliot Spitzer got busted for. Soliciting, not the actual prostitution.

I’ve got to say, however, this movie wasn’t much of a stretch for many of the characters, as I’ve seen them in similar roles elsewhere. Oh, look! Christian Slater is a kind of unstable yet charming rogue! Where have we seen that? Oh, how about Heathers or Pump Up the Volume? And Gary Oldman as a murderous psychopath? No, it’s not like we’ve ever seen Gary Oldman do that! The Professional and The Fifth Element? What are those? To be fair, though, both of Oldman’s examples came out after this movie; I’d just seen them before this movie.

I made you a movie review, but I eated it.

Well, maybe not. I did, however, have every intention to watch a movie and review it tonight. However, my laptop’s DVD player decided to be less than helpful. Oddly enough, I could still import CDs so I’m getting some use out of it.

Indeed, this laptop is starting to exhibit signs of wear and tear after nearly 2 years of use and abuse. The battery is completely kaput and now the DVD drive won’t play DVD movies.

Enough. I have a recap. Less Than Jake was a kickass show, as usual. Concerts are so much better when it’s obvious that the performers are having a good time. Of the two opening bands, the first one, The Swellers, was better in my opinion. For one, it actually seemed like they belonged at a Less Than Jake show, given that they’re a punk band. Unfortunately, New York hip hop act Cage was sandwiched between two acts that were completely dissimilar to his own, so I don’t think he really had much of a chance to connect with the crowd. The only time I’ve seen a punk crowd really get into a hip hop act was with Jurassic 5 at the Warped Tour.

The night after LTJ, I went to see some local acts at Trees. I’m generally not a fan of radio any more, especially ClearChannel stations, but I have to give credit to KDGE for having a show for local music on Sunday nights and for sponsoring concerts like this. Last Thursday, they had The Hope Trust, This Old House, and The Crazy Ivans. I wish I’d taken notes on The Hope Trust and This Old House because my impressions of them got wiped when I had my ass blown off by The Crazy Ivans. I’d previously met half of The Crazy Ivans at the Dethklok/Mastodon show and holy crap did they not disappoint. I can’t wait to see them again on February 6th at Reno’s Chop Shop for their CD release party.

The Assassination City 2010 calendar has been released, and it is even better than I imagined it! I know that there are a lot of people that are digging on the Give It Away, Hot For Teacher, and Thriller shoots, and they are freaking incredible, but the more I leaf through the calendar the more the Freeze Frame shoot grows on me. Admitted, the video for this J Geils Band song isn’t nearly as iconic as some of the other months such as Smells Like Teen Spirit, Addicted To Love, or Whip It, but I really like it all the same.

The party itself went over pretty well too. We sold 10% of our calendars in a single night, so that’s cool. If you want to buy one, get in touch with me and I’ll get one to you come Hell or high water. Interestingly enough, at the release party I was interviewed by someone for her blog. Sadly, the picture she got of me was bloody horrible as I wasn’t expecting to have to take my fez off for any reason, but still. I kinda feel bad. Getting three relatively simple questions out of me was like pulling teeth because I’m rubbish at coming up with stuff on the fly. If you want to read it, head on over to Little B in the Big D.

I had a busy week because this post ain’t over yet. I also went to Stacy and Tony’s Christmas party and had a blast there too. You know it’s going to be a good night when someone actually gets your Jeffster! t-shirt. I got to meet a lot of really cool new people and actually got invited to another Christmas party this weekend as a result. I don’t want to sound full of myself, but I had to make a good impression to get invited to a Christmas party hosted by someone I’d never met until that night, right? Sadly, I’m taking a risk with the white elephant gift exchange. I found something that I thought was pretty great for a gag gift. It’s got the potential to be either hilarious or kinda icky. We shall see.

Cochese Reviews Old Ass Movies: Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!

Finally I know exactly why I watched a particular old ass movie. Today I review the 1965 Russ Meyer exploitation classic, Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! starring Tura Satana, and the reason is in the line, “I never try anything, I just do it. Wanna try me?” I first heard that line in the White Zombie song Thunder Kiss ‘65 and it’s only now that I’ve gotten around to watching this movie. Maybe I should start reviewing other things referenced in White Zombie songs, like Urotsukidouji: Legend of the Overfiend.

You know pretty much exactly what you’re getting into within the first five minutes of this movie. Fast cars, wet t-shirts, and chicks rolling around in the dirt fighting. It doesn’t really let up from there. Three adrenaline junky go-go dancers meet a couple of squares in the middle of the desert. The three go-go dancers end up kidnapping the girl after the leader, Varla, kills the guy in a fight. After gassing up, they hear about a old man who is apparently loaded, so it’s decided that they’re going to find out where he’s stowed his cash and rob him blind. Unfortunately for them, the man’s a mean old S.O.B. and a lecher to boot. The rest of the movie involves Varla and the old man trying to get the upper hand in their power struggle. Things become more complicated when loyalties aren’t as strong as assumed, neither Varla’s gang nor the old man’s sons.

There’s really not a lot of bad things to say about this movie, I’m sad to report. It’s classic sleaze and it delivers in pretty much everything. Interestingly enough, it’s one of the few Russ Meyer movies that doesn’t feature frontal nudity. It’s merely implied or shown from the back. I’m kind of curious as to why Meyer held back on this particular movie. The nudity wouldn’t really have distracted from the plot of the movie and even by the time this movie came out, he was well known for lots of nudity in his movie. Oh well. The amount of violence in the movie makes up for it.

You can tell this movie was made in the post war period. Out of the female characters in the movie, the wholesome one is wearing a bikini throughout the movie, and the societal rejects are *gasp* wearing pants. Mind you, they were skin tight leather pants and the tops revealed an impressive amount of cleavage without anything popping loose, but I noticed the pants. Note: I saw what the movie was trying to do before the old man came up with the classy line, “Women! They let ‘em vote, smoke and drive – even put ‘em in pants! And what happens? A Democrat for president!”

It’s lines like that in Meyer’s script that make me love this movie. However, it’s nothing compared to the double entendres. There’s so much innuendo in this movie that it would impress Mae West. Lines like, “Would you like to look under my hood?” and “We know how fast we can go” are all throughout the movie.

Tura Satana was flat out amazingly badass in this movie. Tura did all of her own stunts and just oozed sex and predator and awesome all in one. She even had a couple of Shatnerian judo chops in her fight scenes! Sultry, confident, dangerous, and alluring, Satana’s Varla is pretty much a picture perfect example of a succubus.

Go find someone who has this movie and watch it. It’s not available on Netflix. Russ Meyer’s estate actually has the rights to it, though, but I’m pretty dead set against paying $40 for a DVD. You can, however, get the movie from sellers on the Amazon Marketplace for around $30.

Well I ain’t seen my baby since I don’t know when

Last night I was all kinds of productive. Not only did I get invited as a guest on Bad Philosophy, but I also got my TABC (Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission) certification. The latter is required for derby bouts. Even though we don’t sell alcohol, the bouts are BYOB, so it’s necessary to be able to know when someone’s had too much to drink.

First off, Bad Philosophy. It was referred to as a self-indulgent episode regarding Dollhouse and I was invited to discuss it. I really wish I were more prepared, as I’d not yet seen the two episodes that were under discussion (Now that I have, holy crap it was awesome!) While I was excited about being on one of the podcasts I regularly listen to, I’m disappointed with my performance. I could have done better. You want better, you should go listen to the episodes of Bulls Deep that I was in. BJ, Billy, and I rocked the Hell out of those (episodes 3 and 7), particularly episode 7B, where we take on Maximum Overdrive. Don’t worry, I’ll redeem myself next time I’m on Bad Philosophy once the series conclusion to Dollhouse airs sometime in January.

Regarding the TABC certification. Oh, do I have a treat for you. The training program you have to watch before taking the test was nearly unbearable were it not for my love of Mystery Science Theater 3000, which provided me with color commentary making fun of the things I was hearing.

One of the most amusing things I discovered at the beginning of the course was that it’s illegal to sell alcohol to insane people and, I quote, “habitual drunkards,” I’m just amused that there’s an actual legal definition of the term “habitual drunkard.” I’m also a big fan of the term “adult beverage.”

Apparently, the act of ordering shots is an indication of lack of good judgment, which, according to the video, means you should start doing things to slow down your service to them. Maybe it’s the philosopher in me, but that act doesn’t necessarily indicate poor judgment. If a group has been drinking for hours and then they start ordering shots? Then yeah. But if a group of people comes in and orders a round of shots to celebrate someone’s promotion or something, then orders food and beer, then that’s not really an example of poor judgment. They also provide us with the gem that apparent intoxication depends on one’s “experience level” with alcohol? It’s like they turned drinking into D&D. Yes, I’m proficient in beer and rum, but not Everclear, so I’m at a -3 on to hit rolls when drinking punch. Oh, but wait, their ideas of approximating intoxication get better.

Dancing by oneself is an apparent indication that you’ve had WAY TOO MUCH to drink and should be refused alcohol service. Quick, tell Billy Idol that he’s going to be cut off if keeps up with it!

Their constant references to offering free food to people caught my eye. Apparently it’s their answer to most everything. What I think is that this was written by people that love to drink, but are cheapskates so they put stuff like this in the curriculum so they wouldn’t have to pay for food. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

The greatest (worst) part of the training video, however, was when they were teaching how to avoid serving or selling to minors. First off, half of the characteristics they attribute to minors can easily apply to many many other people. Yeah, minors sometimes use alcohol as “alcohol courage” to lower inhibitions and overcome shyness. First off, what is this “alcohol courage” nonsense? I’ve never heard anyone use that term. Liquid courage? Certainly. “Alcohol courage,” though? Way to sound like you have no idea what you’re talking about. And minors using alcohol to lower inhibitions and overcome shyness? Isn’t that the very purpose of alcohol for a lot of people?!

As if their perception of teens wasn’t bad enough, their portrayal was worse. During a section discussing how you should be aware of current fashions so you can know how minors dress, they show a pic of a hot Asian girl in freaking fetish clothing! We’re talking zip-up latex top and elbow length latex gloves. Oh, so that‘s how minors are dressing today? Way to make me feel skeevy, TABC.

All that aside, I have to commend their diversity of actors in the training. You didn’t simply have token minorities, they had several different actors of many different colors, but better than that, they also showed different styles of people. There weren’t simply a bunch of preppy executives and Cliff Huxtable types you normally see in these things. They also had people with non-natural hair colors, lip rings, and multiple cartilage piercings. And, yes, the aforementioned fetish clothing.

Dallas, got a soft machine, Houston, too close to New Orleans

You’ll have to forgive me for being lazy and not updating anything other than my weekly old ass movie reviews in such a long time. It’s not that I’ve been busy, I’ve just been lazy. Since it’s been so ling, I think I’ll just catch up on what’s happened since Thanksgiving or so.

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I got to see three local bands at Trees: The Primary, Criminal Shift, and Giggle Party. I was also there as an unofficial envoy for Ass City to see if any of these bands would be good as entertainment for a bout. I really enjoyed The Primary, but their music seemed a bit too slow and melancholy for roller derby. Giggle Party is boisterous and fun, but there’s no way I’d let them anywhere near a track. They label themselves as party punk, and they really mean it. They had cupcakes for the audience, lots of balloons and confetti. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the schtick, but things like that could pose a danger for the skaters in the second half of a bout. Criminal Shift, on the other hand? I think they’d do well at a bout. They have some slow ballad-y tunes, but they also have some driving rock songs that would mesh real well with much of our audience.

Thanksgiving was a good time. I invited Tenille over as I cooked a ham, made homemade mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, and doctored up a can of collard greens with some bacon grease, red pepper and onion. We watched Hot Fuzz and May, a horror movie about a seemingly shy and awkward but crazy young woman who thinks her Creepy Doll talks to her. Overall, it was a good time to relax and chill.

More recently, I found out that the Dallas Deception, Dallas’ men’s roller derby league, practices not more than 15 minutes from my house, so now I’ve no excuse. I went and bought me some skates and pads and all the trimmings since the next step up from stats monkey is ref. And refs have to know how to skate.

There’s a lot of derby stuff on the table. Last week was Queen of the Hive, a two day tournament with skaters coming in mostly from Texas, but some skaters from as far away as Tacoma and Baltimore. I watched it all day Saturday, but I was too damn tired to go back on Sunday. Instead, I slept like 13 hours that day. Oy. This Friday, there’s Ass City’s calendar release party at Lee Harvey’s. Everyone in and around Dallas should come. It’s going to be crazy awesome. Last year’s theme was movie scenes, so some of the months featured movies like From Dusk Till Dawn, Reservoir Dogs, and Dr. Strangelove. This year, the theme is based around iconic music videos. Among some of the videos I know will be on the calendar are Smells Like Teen Spirit and Addicted to Love. I know Motley Crüe is in there somewhere, but you’ll have to come and buy a calendar to see the rest.

Concert-wise, this year is turning out to be better than the last. This month I have Less Than Jake and some more local Dallas bands. Next month has Todd Snider, and early February has the return of JoCo and Paul & Storm to Dallas. I need to drag someone to that show. Their shows are just entirely too fun to not share. Also, while I’m not really into her, Ani DiFranco will be playing Dallas sometime in May.

I’m being kept busy, and for me, that’s a good thing for a change.

Cochese Reviews Old Ass Movies: To Sir, With Love

Earlier in the week I watched Yojimbo, and the next night I watched To Sir, With Love, although I’m just now getting around to writing the review of it. It wasn’t easy watching two movies back to back that have been pretty much re-done ad infinitum since their release.

To Sir, With Love stars Sidney Poitier as Mark Thackery, an inspirational teacher. Yeah, that ccollective groan is pretty much my reaction as well at the beginning of this movie. The Save Our Students trope is pretty damn common to the point of being hackneyed. Off the top of my head, I can think of Dead Poets Society, Lean on Me, Dangerous Minds, Only the Strong, and Great Teacher Onizuka. Oh, and Hamlet 2, though that’s more making a mockery of the inspirational teacher movie.

That said, it’s a movie that was mentioned on The West Wing, and if Chef from South Park is a fan of Sidney Poitier, then I guess I’ll sit through the movie.

Interestingly enough, although this movie came out in 1966, it’s not the original Inspirational Teacher movie. That award (as far as I know) goes to 1955’s Blackboard Jungle, in which Sidney Poitier actually played one of the students. Yeah, the big difference in this movie is that it’s a black teacher with white British kids.

And thus we come to my first gripe with the movie. Dude, they’re British kids. How bad could they possibly be? They’re even portrayed as little more than a bit rowdy. The first indication we’re given about how bloody awful these kids are is that they listen to that rock and roll music and dance in the hallways during their lunch hour. It’s not like they’re doing it in class. Oooh, one of the girls burned a tampon in the stove and one of the boys challenged Sidney Poitier to a boxing match. Big deal, that’s Mickey Mouse. The only way these people are going to turn out bad is if they get horribly disfigured and become super villains. Either that or star in an American movie because everyone knows that having a British accent is pretty much a dead giveaway that someone is evil.

The deal with the tampon was confusing as hell at first because it is never mentioned or shown what was being burned in the stove yet Poitier singles out the girls when trying to pin the blame.

The movie itself is highly predictable, but that doesn’t necessarily make it a bad movie. However, it does count against my considering it a good movie. The least likeable person int the movie was the Teacher Who’s Lost All Faith and is convinced that it’s a waste to try and teach the kids anything. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t find him unlikeable because of that, but rather because all of the racist garbage billowing forth from his gob for most of the movie, asking what kind of black magic and voodoo Poitier’s using to get the kids to behave and referring to him as a black sheep. Admittedly, this was probably done deliberately to make the character unlikeable, but still it was pretty obnoxious.

At the end of the movie, at the big high school dance, when the student with the serious Hot For Teacher complex dances with Mr. Thackery, we’re shown something highly amusing: Sidney Poitier trying to dance. It was unintentionally hilarious in that he looked about as out of his element as Pat Boone on Soul Train. Dude has less rhythm than Steve Martin at the beginning of The Jerk.

The only other thing I have of note is it’d be amusing to see the aneurysm conservatives would have at the ZOMG SOCIALIZUM moment when Mr. Thackery tells his students to fill out their national health insurance cards. Do note that this movie was made in 1966 and the United Kingdom is still around 40 years later.

Cochese Reviews Old Ass Movies: Yojimbo

Forgive the lateness of this review, but this week I took on the 1961 Akira Kurosawa classic Yojimbo, starring Toshiro Mifune. Sadly, I was spoiled on this movie by Sukiyaki Western Django, which is kind of a complete ripoff of this movie, so it took me a couple tries to get through the movie.

My reason for having this in my queue is actually pretty strange. One of the users of Fark.com is a big movie geek and has the handle of Toshiro Mifune’s Letter Opener, or TMLO for short. That name got me to look up Toshiro Mifune and thus led me to this movie.

I’m really disappointed that I was sort of burned out on this movie before having even watched it. This movie is the gold standard for wandering loner movies and has been done so many times that I knew much of what was going to happen before it actually happened in the movie.

Sanjuro, ronin extraordinnaire, finds himself in a town beseiged by two rival gangs both of which are trying to recruit him so that he could help eliminate the rival gang. Sanjuro then plays each gang off each other to get them to kill themselves, but is ultimately caught and tortured. He escapes, renews his strength, and then comes in kicking ass and taking names.

This movie is often referred to as either a period drama or a samurai movie. While this movie does have a number of samurais in it, it is not a samurai movie. No no no. This movie is a Western. The only thing missing are the tumbleweeds, and that’s only because the setting is in Japan. There’s still the wide angle shot of the protagonist in the background facing a large number of bad guys in the foreground while the wind kicks up to blow people’s clothing and hair to add to the dramatic effect. Hell, one of the fights even happens at high noon. You can’t get much more western than that.

When I say this movie is often imitated, I wasn’t joking. The wandering loner caught between rival gangs is seen in A Fistful of Dollars, Sukiyaki Western Django (which is too true to this movie in my opinion), Last Man Standing, and Lucky Number Slevin. That doesn’t even cover the wandering loner coming into a troubled town, fixing a problem, and then leaving into the sunset. That trope makes for great television production, in that there’s lots of places for guest stars because the main character is in a different town each week. Of course, television corrupted the loner aspect of “wandering loner” and tended to match the person up with an apprentice, buddy, or rival. See Kung Fu, The Lone Ranger, The Wild Wild West, or Quantum Leap.

Even movies you wouldn’t expect make references to Yojimbo. The final fight in The Warriors is similar in that everyone has melee weapons except for one person with a gun, and the characters are taken out in the same way.

And in an even stranger connection, Eurotrip references this movie. When the group finds themselves behind the Iron Curtain in Bratislava, Slovakia, among the delapidated buildings, we see a dog walking along carrying a human hand in its mouth, just as in the beginning of Yojimbo.

The most annoying thing I found about this movie isn’t actually in the movie itself but rather in Netflix’s synopsis of the movie. They refer to Sanjuro as a “masterless samurai” instead of calling him ronin. You know what, if you’re watching an Akira Kurosawa movie and you don’t know what it means to be ronin, then you deserve any confusion you might get. However, if you don’t know what a ronin is, then you probably won’t know that samurai typically swear fealty to a daimyo, so there’s really no reason to refer to Sanjuro as anything other than a samurai.

Cochese Reviews Old Ass Movies: The Valet

Breaking from my normal tradition so far, I’m reviewing 2006’s The Valet, or  La Doublure as it’s known in France, starring Daniel Auteuil, Alice Taglioni, and Gad Elmaleh. While not an old ass movie by any stretch of the imagination, it was what was next in my Netflix queue, so you can deal.

It wasn’t until I linked to the imdb page that I realized why I’d added it. The Valet was written and directed by Francis Veber, the same person who wrote The Dinner Game. If you’ve not seen that, I’d recommend it too.

The premise is simple. Billionnaire gets caught with his supermodel mistress by the paparazzi and pays the schlub that’s walking past them at the time of the photos to pretend that it’s actually he that’s dating the supermodel. Billionnaire tries to smooth things over while simultaneously trying to fend off a both a worker’s strike and his wife. (Side note: Dude, worker’s strikes and France go together like Crete and uozo) Yeah yeah yeah, hilarity ensues.

It does, actually. As a farce, this definitely is on par with his previous work but I’m not sure if it’s up there with a classic farcical series like Fawlty Towers.

Sure, there’s the entire ugly duckling surrounded by gads of beautiful women who all want him (kinda like a lot of Japanese anime series, actually) plot, but it’s really well done. The character of François (the valet) looks like a French version of Ray Romano, but his timidity and blundering whenever he’s around his girlfriend remind me a lot of Toshiko from Torchwood.

Vying for the affection of François’ girlfriend/ex-girlfriend is a classic Eurotrash scrote that sells mobile phones. This is the thing I don’t get, maybe it’s cultural. I can understand the dude thinking he’s hot shit because he’s a douchebag and that’s what they do, but everyone else was fawning over him or comparing themselves unfavorably to him not because of his looks, but because he sells mobile phones, as if that were somehow an accomplishment. Really? Are the people in this movie aiming so low that they’re envying the guy who sells phones from a little pagoda in the middle of a mall? I’m not even that sad!

While I did enjoy the movie, I was very much not partial to the ending. Asshole Billionnaire got his comeuppance, which was good, schlub got to be with his girlfriend (who didn’t even want him until she thought someone else did, don’t even get me started on that), which I’ll tolerate, but Elena, the supermodel, got bupkis. No longer is she Asshole Billionnaire’s mistress, she doesn’t get the guy she was pretending to be with, and she doesn’t get the contingency she prepared for. This wouldn’t be so bad if she were completely unlikeable, but she’s not, she’s extraordinarily likeable with or without the looks. The character of Elena is more likeable than Audrey Hepburn’s character in Funny Girl. Eh, I just didn’t think it was fair that she was being used as a pawn throughout the entire movie and she gets nothing out of it.

Cochese Reviews Old Ass Movies: The Thin Man

This week I take you back to 1934 to the classic sleuth comedy, The Thin Man, starring William Powell and Myrna Loy.

I’m not positive as to how this found its way into my Netflix queue, but I’ve got an idea that it was recommended by Netflix after adding Hitchcock movies like Vertigo and Rope to my queue. Well, either that or I added it because it’s in the National Film Registry.

The opening scene has a scientist, Mr. Wynant, preparing to go away, telling no one where he is going, in order to be free from distraction and to perfect an invention and not have his ideas stolen. Just as he was getting ready to leave, his daughter comes in and announces that she is getting married. After promising that he’ll be back before the wedding, Wynant goes to the safe for in his workshop to set up the wedding gift before he leaves, only to discover that the $50,000 in bonds has been removed from the safe. After being told that his secretary/girlfriend is the one who took them, he confronts her. She tells him that she can only get half of it. After an argumenet, Wynant leaves.

Fast forward to months later. Nick Charles is at a speakeasy. We find out that he and his wife Nora have just come back from San Francisco and that Nick is retired from the private investigator business. Wynant’s daughter sees him and begs him to look into her father’s disappearance. Nick, being retired, doesn’t want anything to do with the case and simply assumes that Wynant is keeping a low profile due to the scientist’s paranoia.

After Wynant’s secretary is found murdered, however, Nick and Nora get drawn into the case despite repeated objections. Needless to say, Wynant is the prime suspect and we’re led into a whodunnit that has aspects that have been imitated quite a bit over the years.

The best part of the movie, hands down, is the husband-wife team of Nick and Nora. Despite their playlist only running for ninety minutes or so, there’s a magic between the two of them that is rarely seen anymore. The quick witted back and forth between the two characters is a delight to watch and it’s wonderful to see the two of them on equal footing trading quips. Somewhere in the middle of the movie, Nora remarks to her husband that “[she] heard you were shot five times in the tabloids,” to which Nick remarks, “That’s not true. He didn’t get anywhere near my tabloids.” Because of lines like this, the pair remind me quite a bit of Gomez and Morticia Addams.

Speaking of equal footing, why is it that movies of the 1930s tend to be far more progressive with regard to gender equality than movies in the 1950s or ’60s? There were so many no-nonsense women in the early days of talkies. Katherine Hepburn, Joan Crawford, and Bette Davis were badasses and played similarly strong women on the screen. By the time we get to the post-war period, strong women had fallen out of fashion and typical roles for women evolved into passive, weak-willed characters who are perfectly content being subordinate to a male courter rather than an equal.

Gah, forgive me that rant. Back to The Thin Man. The next best thing about the movie? Holy crap is there a lot of drinking in this movie! When we first meet Nora, she asks her drunk husband how many drinks he’s had. As the bartender brings martinis to the two of them, he replies that the one just brought was his sixth. Nora’s response to the bartender is, “Barkeep, I’m going to need five more martinis and line them up all in a row.” I got to respect any woman, fictional or not, who can do that.

The drinking doesn’t stop there. It’s very rare for a scene in this movie to not have at least one person imbibing alcohol. It doesn’t matter what time of day, either. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, after being woken up in the middle of the night, any time. My liver recoiled at the sight of all the drinking in this movie.

Of course, there’s an obvious reason why drinking played such a large part of this movie. Prohibition ended in December of 1933. This movie was released in May of 1934.

Do yourself a favor and watch this movie. I liked it so much that I’d already ordered it on Amazon before the movie had finished. Sadly, praising movies isn’t nearly as much fun to read, so, for that, I apologize.

Cochese Reviews Old Ass Movies: The Towering Inferno

Tonight the disc in the player was 1974’s classic disaster movie, The Towering Inferno, starring Paul Newman, and Steve McQueen, with William Holden, Faye Dunaway, and a distinguished Fred Astaire.

I’m fairly certain that the reason this got in my queue was to test my theory that it doesn’t matter what decade it comes from, disaster movies are pretty awful. With a few choice exceptions, this hypothesis holds up.

As for the plot, what do you expect, David Mamet? Tallest building in the world goes up in flames and architect Doug Roberts (Paul Newman) and Fire Chief O’Hallorhan (Steve McQueen) have to (and do) save the day. BAM. Done. Next!

Color commentary, though? I’ve got plenty of that given my work history with electronics, submarines, and water plant operations. Too bad I’m not an architect or I could probably tear this movie a new arsehole over that too.

First things first, though. I have to admit that both Paul Newman and Steve McQueen were veritable badasses, which isn’t really unexpected, particularly for McQueen. I mean, come ON! One of his replies to a firefighter frightened of rapelling down an elevator shaft was, “Well, you better go first so you don’t take any of us with you when you fall.” That doesn’t even touch on The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, and Bullitt. Steve McQueen is so badass he makes John Wayne look like Andy Dick, Chuck Norris like Ralph Macchio, and Jason Statham like Pee Wee Herman. Steve McQueen might even be able to take Dolemite in a fight, but I’m not positive.

There were a few Scenes That Remind You This Movie Is Old. For one, when the fire trucks go by, other drivers actually pull over to the side of the road! Another scene has a kid wearing wireless headphones. The things are freaking enormous and basically have a set of rabbit ears attached to them to pick up radio signals, presumably from Planet V.

And apparently, in 1974, the sign of the upper class is to have plaid curtains and to wear a cravat.

Oh, and despite Cheech Marin’s insistence in Desperado, the bartender in this movie does, in fact, get killed.

We’re also treated to an, “Oh, I KNOW that guy! What’s his name?” moment when we see Robert Vaughn. He was one of the Magnificent Seven, co-starred with McQueen in Bullitt, amd was in The Man From U.N.C.L.E., but most people recognize him as the bad guy from Superman III.

Now to get cracking on all the ridiculous parts of this movie. Ob, believe me, there are plenty.

First off, I seriously think this movie was written by a building inspector or safety officer, since in many places The Towering Inferno is more a safety training video than an action/disaster movie. For example, the fire starts when an electrical junction box explodes (due to shoddy wiring on part of the electrical contractor) and a wire sets fire to a huge pile of oily rags in a room filled with flamable liquids. It’s like everything you shouldn’t do safety-wise all rolled into one!

Okay, so maybe that was the only scene written by the safety officer, because a safety officer would never let the following appear on celluloid. There was a scene where another electrical breaker fried and started smoking. The dude opens up the panel and starts poking around in there without any electrical safety gear on whatsoever. You don’t go poking around in a 450 volt panel with your bare hands when it’s not de-energized, especially when it’s been damaged by fire or explosion.

Also, I don’t think the safety inspectors would have approved of hooking the bathroom taps and washing machine hookups to kerosene tanks instead of water lines. I mean, that’s the only possible explanation I can think of for so many people bursting into flames like they did in this movie. Seriously, a half second of contact with flames on their pant leg is enough to make them immediately become Burning Man. No one dies of smoke inhalation. No, that’s not sexy enough for the big screen. They have to erupt in flames and walk about and jump out windows for dramatic effect.

Sadly, we’ve yet to cross the threshold into ridiculousness. Way up on the 135th floor of Nakatomi Plaza Glass Tower, in one of the stairwells, a wheelbarrow full of cement has tipped over, hardened, and completely blocked access to the door. While it’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility that there was a wheelbarrow full of cement in a stairwell on the 135th floor (though it’s extremely unlikely), the fact that the building was already starting to be occupied and no one noticed it until then is completely moronic.

Finally, the 12 year old in me would like to provide this out of context quotation: “Jack, I know you’ve been hitting it. I’m gonna get some relief for you and your men.”