Posted by at 6:42 pm  2 Responses »
Mar 292010

This is Zed Wilson. Chances are you’ve never seen him before, but go ahead and get used to that face now because as soon as the right person stumbles upon a little indie-horror film called Trippin’, this dude is gonna be everywhere. At first he’ll probably just appear in some Doritos commercial or something (or maybe…Jack Link’s Beef Jerky would also work). Then, when he pops up in some horrible direct-to-DVD National Lampoon’s teen sex romp as a stoner frat guy extra with one line (something like “Yeah, man…they’re like…special brownies”), you’ll be like “Oh, hey, that’s that dude from those Burger King commercials”. But it won’t stop there, friends. Suddenly he’s a convenience store clerk that remembers what color shirt a suspect was wearing on Law and Order. Then he’s a bumbling waiter that spills wine onto Vince’s date’s dress on Entourage. Then he’s the old high school friend that accidentally ruins Michael Cera’s chance to impress a mousey indie-rock girl in any given Michael Cera movie. Finally, when he can’t fulfill his obligation to host the Oscars because he’s just been nominated as King of Movies, America will understand and smile politely as Wayne Brady tries to keep the show moving along.

So now that we’ve established that Zed Wilson is actually the subject of Madonna’s “Lucky Star”, what of the movie that shall serve as his vehicle to the unquestioned domination of all media?

Well, based on the cannabis-laden cover and marijuana pun in the tagline, I was pretty apprehensive about Trippin’. See, I hate stoner comedies. I absolutely fucking abhor them. With the exception of a few gems (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and Pineapple Express for example), comedic moments in the majority of stoner comedies never progress beyond “BRO THIS MOVIE IS HELLA FUNNY THEY ARE DOING DRUGS LIKE I DO DRUGS LOL”. However, writer / director / forgivable beret enthusiast Devi Snively decided to take the not often traveled high road (that wasn’t a weed joke) by eschewing the “Let’s hotbox Air Force One and watch the president drop it like it’s hot” crap and instead, amazingly, used her characters’ proclivity for substance abuse as a means of furthering a coherent story. I know – nuts, right? (The only exception to this is a few token “fwahuhuh…drugs are good” jokes from our buddy Zed, which is somehow exculpatory due to his affability.)

Despite being made on a budget thinner than DJ Qualls, Trippin’ fucking delivers. People die, frogs are smashed, spaghetti is eaten, and it all looks great. Especially the spaghetti. (I’m super hungry.) There’s even a pretty awesome hallucination scene that, for the first time ever in the history of hallucination scenes, I actually wish was a little bit longer.

The main problem with Trippin’ is this: You’re probably not gonna get to see it. At least not for a while. It’s very slowly and sporadically making its rounds on the indie-horror festival circuit so unless you live in a college town, the chances of Snively and her cohorts dropping by is slim. However, if you’re lucky enough to live somewhere that caters to no-budget film fests, keep an eye on the downtown telephone poles for a flyer. Or just go to the Trippin’ site and check the blog. Or both, if you’re the cautious type.

I give Trippin’ four quaaludes out of a inadvisable five quaaludes.

Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever

 Posted by at 5:36 am  Comments Off on Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever
Feb 252010

Note: If you’re all hung up on politics and brazenly vilify this movie as you raise your sword in defense of Ti West, who wanted his name removed from the film after his artistic vision was hijacked by the producers, do yourself a solid and just stop reading this now because, beyond this opening paragraph, I’m not going to address it again. Yes, it fucking sucks for Mr. West and I have nothing but sympathy for him, but I’m reviewing a horror movie here, not trying to harangue you with my uneducated opinion about the sheisty nature of the film industry and its insatiable appetite for the souls of talented young filmmakers. (That’s what IMDB message boards are for, apparently.) So let’s just all agree that life is unfair, bad things happen to good people, and that Hollywood is a hideous bitch-goddess. Sweet? Sweet. Now lets  get to the movie as it is presented, regardless of the myriad of shitty circumstances leading to its release.

How much do I love the original Cabin Fever? So much that I named my dog “Pancakes”. That’s commitment, motherfucker. That’s like watching Swingers and then deciding to name your dog “Money Baby”. Except it’s not like that at all because that would be retarded and what I did was awesome because as it turns out, I am in fact pretty fucking awesome and I should be rewarded with trophies molded in my visage (but also on the inside they’re chocolate). Anyway, given my obvious personal investment, you can imagine the teste-contracting terror that gripped my soul (and apparently ballsack) when I walked by the Redbox outside 7-Eleven and saw the DVD cover for Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever.

“WHAT THE FUCK”, I exclaimed (no I didn’t) as I smashed my fist through the Redbox touch-screen (again, not really). Why would they make this sequel 8 years after the release of the original?  Who the fuck is this Ti West guy? That sounds like the name of a porno director. What happened to Eli Roth? Is he okay? How could he let this happen to me and my dog? Whose 12-year-old nephew got Photoshop Elements free with the laptop he got for Christmas and made this cover art?

Those are all valid questions (and one valid statement) and my outrage was pure and true. So, of course, I rented it – because being angry at movies is my number three favorite hobby after being mad at TV commercials (#2) and being mad at weather (#1).

With almost every conceivable thing about it suggesting the contrary, this movie is actually pretty awesome. It unabashedly delivers the “3 B’s” – Blood, Boobs, and Barf – and does it with a sense of humor about itself that never comes off as blatantly “wacky”.

Not even the fact that the starring role went to the weak-voiced would-be-rapist turned accidental-necrophiliac kid from Deadgirl bothered me.  Even more surprisingly, his archetypal “portly/sex-crazed/wise-cracking sidekick” is somehow believable, natural, and actually funny at times. In fact, almost everyone in this movie goes well beyond typical “direct-to-DVD horror/comedy” standards. (Except the cartoonishly witch-like teacher who chews up the scenery like she has cancer and it’s the cure.) There’s even an amazing cameo by Judah Friedlander and, if you ask me, a fucking Oscar-worthy appearance by Mark Borchardt of American Movie fame.

The one glaring fault of this movie is its last 5 minutes. (Yes, I know it was shot and added by the producers after Ti West washed his hands of the film, but we’re not talking about that, remember?) After a satisfactory ending complete with crane shot and fade-out, the movie suddenly and apropos of NOTHING cuts to what I guess is supposed to be a strip club, where we  meet six new characters as they all clunkily interact with a girl that we haven’t seen since the first half hour of the movie. We get some pointless gross-outs, some even more pointless dialogue, the girl half-heartedly delivers some bullshit joke, and we’re treated to a bizarre cartoon sequence where we see the virus taking over the world.  It’s absolutely ridiculous and almost insulting. It came very close to actually ruining the whole movie for me, but I figured if I could forgive High Tension for its last 10 minutes, I could forgive this – a far lesser movie. I’m tough but fair, folks.

What’s that? You’re wondering what’s up with that sweet picture of the chunky chick up there? Oh, well she has a full-on nude scene and then fucks a villain from an 80s movie in a pool. Then her tooth falls out and she dies. It’s pretty awesome.

As long as you’ve seen the original, I’d say Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever is worth a watch. (It kind of assumes you’ve seen the first one in that it never really explains why everyone’s barfing everywhere and dying.) It’s not a great movie, but with some great use of the 3 B’s, it’s not as bad as you think it’s going to be.

I give this movie 1 dead fat girl in a pool (out of a possible 2 dead fat girls in a pool).

Tokyo Gore Police

 Posted by at 6:40 pm  1 Response »
Feb 182010

Question: Is Tokyo Gore Police the most awesome movie ever made?

Answer: Yes.

And that shit isn’t even an opinion. That’s a fucking fact, Jack.

I’m not even going to bother giving you a review or a plot synopsis or whatever. There’s no point. All you need to know is that it just doesn’t get any more awesome than this movie and the fact that you’re not watching it right now makes you an idiot. So go watch it. Now.

Really? You’re still just reading this? Are you being difficult on purpose or are you just a douche that hates things that are awesome?

Listen up, horse. I’ve led you to this water and so help me god, you are going to fucking drink. Allow me to explain something to you – The title screen for Tokyo Gore Police occurs 8 minutes and 48 seconds into the film. Here is a rundown of what happens in that beautiful 8 minutes and 48 seconds BEFORE THE NAME OF THE MOVIE EVEN APPEARS:

0:00 – 0:39
Filmed in association with blah blah blah.

The movie begins and we see some pretty flowers.

A dude’s head explodes.

A dude eats another dude’s organs with chopsticks.

A dude does Leatherface’s “Chainsaw Shuffle”.

A chick slices her arm with a box cutter like 47 times.

4:41 – 5:01
A dude is shot until his arm falls off and then…

…a crazy-ass bio-mech chainsaw grows out of the bloody stump.

A cop’s head gets chopped off.

A chick flies to the top of a building on a bazooka.

A dude gets a chainsaw tossed into his mouth which chops his face in half.

Arm chopped off.

Ear chopped off.

Nose chopped off.

Eyeball falls out.

Chick chops dude in half vertically with a sword.

Title screen.

Yeah. And the remaining 1 hour and 40 minutes makes those first 9 minutes look like fucking “Milo and Otis”. I give this movie two severed thumbs up and the soul of my first born child (whom I will name “Tokyo Gore Police”).