Tag Archives: boobies

Land of the Dead

The good thing about a George Romero zombie movie is that you’ve got awesome social commentary if you go for that kind of thing, you’ve got zombie mayhem if you go for that kind of thing, both if you’re like me, and if you like zombies but hate social commentary, it’s not like you’ll notice.

The bad thing about them is that for people who like social commentary but not so much with the zombies, you can never really convince them that a zombie movie can have intrinsic value. I (of course) mean here intrinsic value of the type that everyone recognizes in movies like Sophie’s Choice or Snow Falling on Cedars or bullstuff like that. The intrinsic zombie movie value of Land of the Dead, with its extensive gore, random zombie strippers (CORRECTION: random regular strippers), gratuitous undead attacks on lesbians, and senseless violence against midgets, well, it has all of that, too. But I’m talking about the Romero-style commentary you get in his zombie movies, the part that lets you see past the zombies and realize he could have made the exact same movie without ghoulish hordes, but was cool enough not to.

Is it my place to say what the themes were this time? Clearly, it is. The movie is set years or possibly decades after the original zombie outbreak; a few walled cities contain the vestiges of humanity, and the zombies cover the rest of the earth. The divide (social, intellectual, perhaps even moral) between zombie and human is rapidly narrowing from both directions. It reminded me a lot of I Am Legend, for whatever that’s worth. On top of the dark mirror motif, there’s some (perhaps meant to be relevant to the world of now?) extensive Circus Maximus keeps the citizens happy while the Huns rampage just outside the walls of Rome imagery going on. I think there’s something to be said for the idea that the two themes are intertwined, but then, I’m just a guy who types with two or three fingers, so what do I know?

Also, there were boobies.

Team America: World Police

It’s always feast or famine, they say. Don’t get me wrong, they say a lot of things, and frankly I wish they’d get off their goddamned high horses and stop saying things, because we’re all pretty much sick of them. ‘Look at me, I’m saying something!’ Pricks.

Um. Right. Feast or famine. That was proven true this week, when after a lifetime of never having seen anatomically correct doll breasts, I’ve now seen four over the course of my last two movies. I’m fairly sure this won’t happen again, but it was a strange confluence of events, without doubt.

In this case, they came in the sex scene from Team America: World Police, a scene that I’m told was edited heavily to get an R rating for the film. After having seen it, I fear for the director’s cut. Everything they left in would have bypassed late night Cinemax rules. So, the movie had that gimmick going for it.

It also had the puppets themselves, a gag that I bought into for the first hour of the film (what I thought was the first 90 minutes of the film, and that’s never a good sign). After that, it had to stand on its own merits. Which existed, but not for movie length.

Basically, you have the South Park crew saying the same thing they say in every global episode of the show. That Americans suck ass, but everyone else in the world sucks more ass, except for all those people who say the things they keep insisting on saying long past the point where we’ve stopped listening (And you thought I wasn’t going anywhere with that they thing at the start, admit it. Well, ha!), who suck the most ass of all. I must say, it’s an argument that I often find compelling. But it is not an argument that can sustain 100 minutes of film. On the bright side, they brought along some of the music they’re so good at. On the less bright side, the argument still isn’t enough to sustain the other 75 minutes of film.

In short, I liked it and found it often funny, but I wish they’d made a two-part South Park episode instead. The puppets were cool and all, but not that cool. Kim Jong Il’s panthers were brilliant, though, and will be worth the price of a netflix rental.

Seed of Chucky

This happens to me all the time. I’ll go to a theater, get in right on time or a smidge early, and the place is empty. Then, before the end of the previews, or even a few minutes into the movie, a handful of other people show up and my dreams of having the place empty are crushed. Who are these people with no interest in previews? And especially, who are these people who don’t mind missing some of the movie? I mean, if it was a kid movie and they’re bringing the five year-old and the infant, okay, no big. It’s hard to run on time under circumstances like that. But for quality slasher horror, I just can’t imagine the excuse. Unless you’re bringing the five year-old and the infant. Obviously, that would be different.

Speaking of confused kids with terrible parents, I got out to see Seed of Chucky tonight. Which is nice, because now there are only four movies I need to see but haven’t yet. Five if you count Alexander, which I of course do not, because nobody who’s seen the preview for that could possibly believe it will be any good. Stupid Oliver Stone. Ahem. Back on track, then.

So, Seed of Chucky is the story of Glenn, voiced by Billy Boyd, as he and his family (composed of a pair of serial killers who died and later demonically possessed a pair of Cabbage Patch looking toy dolls) try to find their place in the world. They must face down such challenges as finding new bodies to inhabit, cutting back on that nasty murder addiction, and artificially inseminating Jennifer Tilly. I think we’ve all been there. Haven’t we, Gina Gershon?

And, in the case of Billy Boyd, the challenge of finding a new agent. Don’t get me wrong, I loved this movie. It had multiple beheadings, spurting arteries, boobies (both real and plastic, and not in the way you think I mean), lots of good pop-culture jokes, and a brilliant casting couch line, “What do I have to do to get you to see me as a virgin?” So, what has Billy to complain about? Quite simply, that while his summer job was voicework for a sexually confused and genetically psychotic (if very Burtonesque) doll, fellow hobbit Dominic Monaghan has landed a plum role as Driveshaft’s bass guitarist on ABC’s brilliant Lost. What’s a Scotsman to do?

Well, setting a personal assistant on fire isn’t a bad start.