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Search Results for: new movies

Say A Prayer For Surf Boy. Wherever He Is.


in Movies

“For the past eight years, I haven’t been able to get the character of Max Fischer out of my head. My favorite film is Wes Anderson’s Rushmore, and it also happens to be the director’s best film, encompassing his pathos, full of quirks and details, and soaring on a blend of faith, hope, and love. It’s got his best protagonist, the truest story, and the most genuine emotion of all his films.” – Pajiba

I recently watched Rushmore for the first time in a couple of years, and then read the above article today, so I decided to mention it. My point is this – if you think you like movies, and you haven’t seen Rushmore, do yourself a favor. Jesus, come over to my place and I’ll let you borrow the Criterion version. I’m a Max Fisher evangelist today, and you have just been saved.

I envy Max for a number of reasons. He has the courage to follow his dreams, and sticks his neck out in the name of his “art” no matter what the consequences. Unfortunately, his entire universe is about to collapse because he’s just too damn old to remain at Rushmore: a private high school he has been attending for the past six years.

“You guys have it real easy. I never had it like this where I grew up. But I send my kids here because the fact is you go to one of the best schools in the country: Rushmore. Now, for some of you it doesn’t matter. You were born rich and your going to stay rich. But here’s my advice to the rest of you: Take dead aim on the rich boys. Get them in the crosshairs and take them down. Just remember, they can buy anything but they can’t buy backbone. Don’t let them forget it. Thank you.” – Herman Blume (Bill Murray)

Max has started, or is a member of, every club or extracurricular activity at the school. With the exception of fencing, however, these are limited to things like stamp-collecting and bee-keeping – not sports. The montage where we see Max chairing all of these various societies, while 60’s mod rock plays in the background, sets a theme for the rest of the movie. Max feels he “belongs” at Rushmore because he can manipulate it’s universe. The real world terrifies Max. “Well that’s OK,” he tells the headmaster when his poor grades are brought up, “I’ll just take a post-grad year.” When the headmaster replies that they don’t offer a post-grad year at Rushmore, Max realizes he is about to be thrown to the wolves.

“Dear Max, I am sorry to say that I have secretly found out that Mr. Blume is having an affair with Miss Cross. My first suspicions came when I saw them Frenching in front of our house. And then I knew for sure when they went skinny dipping in Mr. Blume’s swimming pool, giving each other handjobs while you were taking a nap on the front porch.” – Dirk Calloway

It’s no accident this movie has developed a massive cult following. Wes Anderson has created a group of characters so complex and addictively interesting that you can’t help getting caught up in their dilemmas. There’s Magnus, the bullying one-eared Scotsman who admires Max as much as he abuses him. Mr. Blume, the apathetic millionaire who would rather spend time with a 15-yr-old than his horrifically unsympathetic family. Rosemary, the grieving widow who becomes caught in a perceived love-triangle between Max and Blume – Even the bit players in this movie (Margaret Yang, Max’s father, Dirk) will keep your attention and force you to empathize with their various situations.

Rushmore is in good company on my list of favorite movies. Goodfellas, Blade Runner, Raiders of the Lost Ark – do you see what I’m getting at here? It’s a monumental piece of filmmaking, and you have got to see it as close to immediately as you can get. You’ll thank me.

“Sic transit gloria. Glory fades. I’m Max Fischer“.

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Of Course I Love You, Baby. You’re My Blog.


in Pye in the Face

This blog has been sitting neglected for the past week like a red-headed stepchild. And I’m sorry, baby. Of course I still love you. Even though I was stupid enough to create you in Blogger two years ago instead of Wordpress. Even though I use you to annoy people, find homes for roaches and tell far too many dead prostitute jokes. You’re my one and only, and I love your little blue, green and orange ass. No I don’t think you’re a baboon. You’re putting words in my mouth now, baby. Shhhhhh.

No you did NOT see me at the movies last week with Squidoo. That is so over. What do I have to do to prove it to you? Add another bad radio program to the sidebar? How about another guestmap, would you like that? More news about my leaky roof? I’ve got it – another piece about how rainy it is this summer? A picture of my cat? How about another joke about how I’m going to die alone beside a trunk of DVD porn? I haven’t used that one in a while. What’s it going to take?

And… SCENE. This week PITF turns two years old. To help you fathom how unlikely it is for a blog to ever turn two years old, that’s 14 in dog years, – and about 672 in blog years. I’d be giving myself a pat on the back, if I weren’t already giving myself a pat on the back. In honor of this miraculous occasion, I will be updating the “classics” list on the left hand side for the first time in forever to encourage a little nostalgia. Which is a little like inducing vomit, only less potentially damaging to the esophagus.

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It’s OK To Be A Little Excited.


in Movies

I read a lot of “insider” movie news websites where folks in the industry leak really sensitive and current information under silly pseudonyms. So basically “Highlander79“, who is actually a 47-year-old studio executive, leaves the boardroom after a major meeting, sneaks up to his office and spills the non-disclosure beans while probably cloaking his IP address. All the internet nerds then rejoice by dressing up as Jawas, masturbating to the deleted scenes from the special edition Legend DVD and then feeding a mogwai after midnight. At least that’s a normal Friday around my apartment.

I usually keep what I read on these movie sites to myself, as I would actually like to reproduce some day. However there have been some doozy rumors floating around lately and I’m just a little bit excited, in spite of my attempts to only appear marginally really excited. OK – Here are the big two:

– Indiana Jones 4 is sorta, almost, nearly a go. Keep your “…and the Temple of Geritol” jokes to yourself. Harry can still whup some ass. Although as he’ll now be much older, I guess Indy will probably end up fighting communists of some sort. There are so many good jokes here but I have to get this written and get out to an appointment. George Lucas on the script he’s been working on for 10 years – “I think it works like crazy“. Let’s just make sure we get around to it before Connery dies.

– Die Hard 4.0 could begin filming at the end of the summer, and the existing script is an “epic“. It’s called 4.0 because it has McClane battling internet terrorists with the help of his young hacker-genius son. “Yippiekayay Motherfu… – I mean Yippiekayay!”

And just because I love YouTube:

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RSShake What Your Momma Gave Ya.


in Pye in the Face

First off, right out of the gate, a tremendous thank you to whichever internet ne’er do well took the time needed to put this lovely Shakira montage together. Sincerely. That trunk is full. Put the luggage in the back seat with Grandma.

Next, a few kind words about RSS Bandit. You’re reading my blog, so you probably read a few others. Did you know you can also have your news, stock quotes, movie reviews, gossip, weather and just about every other form of data under the sun delivered via RSS feeds? Download the Bandit – for those of you who are RSS amateurs, or get laid regularly, the greatest feature is the application’s ability to take any URL you give it and then hunt for an RSS feed. Sometimes they can be hard to find. So you just tell it to add a new subscrition, type in the basic site name, and if there’s a feed there it will find it. You can keep your feeds organized in a left hand column similar to IE favorites, and I absolutely love it – and I had tried many aggregators before settling on this one.

Now that I’ve come off like a huge nerd today, let me wrap up by chatting about my weight like a woman for a few lines. I mean, we’ve already established that I’m going to die alone. When you lose weight, even a little when you have a small fluxuation range like I do, your wardrobe suddenly doubles. I am back into 36s and am steadily dropping weight like a hot air balloon headed for a forest fire. If I see another fucking apple I’m going to shriek, but it’s a nice feeling and I missed these pants. Welcome back Perry Ellis.

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Good Luck With The Crashing Night Guilt.


in

Did anyone else think that Crash was an exceptionally mediocre film? I just finished watching it and I may never bother to sit through the Oscars again. I am fairly good at explication, but just what is the goddamned theme supposed to be anyway? All races are capable of racism? I already knew that. Predjeduces may be innacurate? Prejeduces may be extremely fucking accurate? Terence Howard looks like he uses a crimping iron? The movie should have been called “Guilt”.

I also watched Good Night and Good Luck last night. As much of a fan as I am of historical and biographical movies, I was tempted to paint one of my bedroom walls halfway through. So I could watch it dry instead. I need films that have a little something extra in order to be fully entertained. Like “Ernest Goes To…” tacked on to the beginning of the title.

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None Too Happy About Chris Penn Dying.


in Heartwarming

I was a huge Chris Penn fan. He could play tough, straight or funny with the greatest of ease, and his talent and charisma were indisputable. This is absolutely awful, and I will likely Penn a more fitting tribute throughout the course of the day. That couldn’t have been less funny, but I ain’t exactly laughing right now. No Wadio, moment of silence. Obit. Nifty graphic in his memory:

From IMDB:

Way back in the days of Footloose and At Close Range I was sold, and his recent downward spiral made me very sad. Someone told me recently that they had seen Penn passed out in a hotel hallway while they were visiting Chicago, and the dread outweighed the jealousy – even though I’m sure I would have posed for a picture with the sprawling mess and then put it on this stupid website. You’ll be missed, Chris. I’ll call you a hearse, and this is for Cody.

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Hollywood North… End.


in Movies

“No longer does the movie industry have to film footage in Toronto, Philadelphia or other locations to suggest that they are some how in the North End of Boston.”

Apparently not. As I stepped out of my apartment building this morning, I ran smack – and I mean literally – into a film crew that was backed up from one end of Cleveland Place to the other. Lights, cameras, screens – there must have been 50 people packed into the narrow lane with all the equipment. Unfortunately, I was at the back of the bunch, with a sound board and video monitor right outside my bedroom window, but it was still fun to watch and I hung around for a few minutes and watched while they held up production as a plane flew overhead. My kingdom for a new digital camera review I feel like I can trust.

I know from talking to people around the neighborhood that Danny Aiello is the star, and that the move – Stiffs – is about “A hearse driver (Aiello) bonds with a pack of Bostonians in an effort to keep a local funeral home in business.” I went to my first play rehearsal last night (a story for a separate post,) and one of my esteemed co-stars was an extra in a restaurant for a day of shooting on Tuesday. She told me Aiello was the nicest man she’s ever met.

We need some movies about the North End. There was an independant flick made about 5 years ago, but it is impossible to find and I’ve never been able to watch it. You can see many shots taken down around the bottom of Prince in 1978’s The Brinks Job, and Peter Boyle and the late Robert Mitchum take a stroll through Government Center Plaza during the end credits of 1973’s The Friends of Eddie Coyle. Other than those, the North End, which is an amazing looking neighborhood with an incredibly rich and seedy history, has been largely ignored. I hope this turns around, or I may just have to start writing something my damn self.

UPDATE: I just got a call from my neighbor. Someone on the set asked her if anyone in the vicinity had a wireless router. So I just spoke to one of the Stiffs crew and gave them my IP and password. So basically, I’m now powering the entire shoot’s internet. I had better get a screen credit! “Special thanks to the huge nerd who let us use his Wireless“. Or a signed 8×10 of Danny.

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These Pipes… Are CLEAN!


in

Some workmates and I went down to Brookline last night to Chris Elliott‘s book reading event at the Coolidge Corner Theatre. I have been a fan of Chris’ since I was a sprog and saw him do an interpretation of William Shatner’s interpretation of Rocket Man on David Letterman. Chris was hilarious, reading from his new book Shroud of the Thwacker for 15 minutes and then taking questions from the audience for another 45.

Upon listening to all the questions that were rapid-fired to him, I realized how many movies Chris has been in that I had completely forgotten about. He’s the cameraman in Groundhog Day, a deep sea miner in The Abyss, Oogie in There’s Something About Mary – and he even played a forensic psychologist in Michael Mann’s far superior Red Dragon precursor, Manhunter. He was asked about all of these, Letterman, obscure specials he’s done for pay TV and of course – Get A Life. “We had no idea there were so many people watching that show. And unfortunately, neither did Fox“.

After the Q&A, The Coolidge screened Cabin Boy – an equally reviled and unsung movie which Elliott hasn’t disowned, but admits he can’t watch because its box office failure was a huge blow and seriously derailed his career back in the early 90s. The packed house went absolutely nuts for it, and he was visibly moved. He signed copies of his book in the back as the audience laughed their heads off, and I felt very happy for him – as he obviously had no idea what his work has meant to so many people. It was quite a thing to be there and watch that kind of realization. This is the first book proper book he’s ever written, and he’d never done a flesh-pressing tour like this in his life.

I waited a long time to get up to talk to him, and I am kicking myself for forgetting my camera at home as he was graciously posing with anyone who wanted a snap. I bought a copy of his book, shook his hand and had a little chat. After he signed the book, I asked him “Are you sick of seeing these yet?” at which point I slyly slipped him the insert from my Cabin Boy DVD in the hopes he’d sign it. “Not at all!” he replied. “In fact, after tonight I am going to call Adam Resnick and see if he wants to do a re-release with a proper commentary and some special features.” He looked up after signing it and smiled. “You had no idea there was a market like this did you?” I asked – “I had no idea” he replied. He shook my hand again and I returned to my seat somewhere near the “Fishstick Kitty” scene.

Chris Elliott is a genius, and a genuinely friendly person to boot. I wish him the best and encourage all of you to seek out more of his amazing work.

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Bountiful Brando Bonanza.


in

For my second weekend in a row of productive sobriety, I’ve opted for a catch-up Marlon Brando movie fest. I ordered every major flick of his that I have been attempting to see for years, and they just arrived courtesy of Amazon. Friday night is One-Eyed Jacks and Streetcar Named Desire, and Saturday is reserved for The Wild One and The Young Lions.

If anyone would like to join me for Brando-Fest 2005, you’re more than welcome to be referred to as one sad fricking individual who should definitely not admit to that fact in mixed company.

It’s actually not as dismal a weekend as it seems. I also have Tonto’s bachelor party to jam in there somewhere, and 2 days of beautiful roofdeck weather to look forward to. So it’s shaping up to be a nice little Saturday. I may hit Home Depot as well. But I dunno… I dunno if I’ll have enough TIME.

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Window Pane And Suffering.


in

Saturday, Nick and I were sitting in the living room eating jalapeno poppers and watching Waiting for Guffman. It was, quite simply, heaven on Earth. The girls who live above me had been moving out all morning, and when we heard a loud ‘bang’ as a piece of their furniture hit the pavement outside like a jumper, I thought nothing of it.

Nick got up and went outside to smoke a post-popper lung rocket, but quickly poked his back inside the door. “Dave, you’d better get out here”. I’ve been hucking furniture, showing apartments, typing up leases, making keys, painting, visiting the bank, waiting for repairmen – all as part of my new building manager duties. I knew August would be a rough month when I took the job, but I really thought I was over the hump. In short, the words “What the fuck is it now!?” quickly flashed through my brain like a Times Square marquee.

In their haste and deplorable moving wisdom, my lovely ex-tenants decided to lower a large boxspring off of their fire escape. And by ‘lower’, I of course mean ‘drop’. Said heavy object then bounced backwards towards the building and shattered both panes of my bedroom window. The window frame itself is bent beyond repair – to the point where I couldn’t even remove all of the broken glass. I took a deep breath, nodded profusely and affirmatively when they offered to pay for the damages, and covered the mess with cardboard and duct tape.

What would Schneider do? I mean, besides try to sleep with both of them?

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Taking One For The Meme.


in Pye in the Face

I went out on the razz last night for the first time in a while, and am feeling a little brain dead today. I wanted to write something, but needed inspiration. After a quick search I found a decent meme to fill out. Brace yourselves and feel free to play along in the comments.

3 snacks I enjoy…
1. Salt & vinegar potato chips.
2. Anything with feta on it. And I do mean anything.
3. A really good chicken pot pie. I consider it a snack as they rarely fill me up completely. I dump vinegar all over the top of the pastry and then crust it with salt and pepper. Tasty, buddies.

3 songs I know all the words to…
1. There Goes The Fear – The Doves
2. The Pixies‘ entire catalog.
3. I watched Morrissey’s recent set at Glastonbury this morning, and he did an old Smiths song I love called The Headmaster Ritual. I knew every single word – and there are a lot of them. Hadn’t heard it in a few years and surprised myself. I once wrote all the words to this song on my desk in Mr. Sarnevitz’s match class (circa 1990) and had to come back after school and clean the entire classroom.

3 locations I would love to run away to…
1. Greece. There’s feta there. Lots of it.
2. My parent’s new house in Ontario. This location in particular is one of my favorite places on earth.
3. Rachel Weisz‘s lap.

3 recently seen movies I like…
1. Batman Begins – Apparently Bale didn’t really commit career suicide by starring in American Psycho afterall. But I don’t know if being typecast as a giant bat is a great deal better.
2. War of the Worlds
3. Sin City – I will be racing, not walking, out to get this DVD when it comes out. What a brilliant film. See it.

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AFI’s Top 100 Movie Quotes Mockery.


in Movies

“Stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen!” – AFI has finally released their top 100 movie quotes of all time. And while Aliens didn’t really make the list, they’ve still done a decent job with a difficult task. But obviously I’m still going to fly into a silly snit and point out some glaring absences. It’s what I do/why I will die alone.

– Roy Batty’s pre-death speech from the end of Blade Runner. “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe…” Hard to believe those tights either, Rutger.
– Indiana’s Jones’ cocky “Trust me” from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Love it.
– Choose any 10 second snippet from Glengarry Glen Ross you like and jam it in at #50. Mamet should be all over this list. “How was her crumbcake? Homemade?”
– You may also remember a small, seldom seen, independant movie called Goodfellas that could populate the first half of this list all by itself.

I’m a busy boy today and can’t really elaborate to the depressingly fanatical extent I’d like to. Please help me out and give a little love to the plethora of quotelets that have fallen by the wascally wayside.

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A Rather Engaging Evening.


in

Friday night at the Ritz, Wilma and Dick Triconi hosted a wonderful engagement party for their son, Doug and his lovely fiancee, Cara. I haven’t had that much fun in a very long time. Cara is originally from Calgary, and her parents flew down from the Great White North for the occasion. Simply put – they had no idea what they were in for. But Camp friends met Concord friends met relatives and the evening was a great success.

But the soiree was not without its scandalous elements! Not to take anything away from Doug, but at 2 a.m. that very morning at Mohegan Sun – Al and Rachel got engaged! No one even really knew they were dating! So congrats to you crazy kids as well. They gave me their blessing to blogify their formerly secret love. And before you ask me which trailer park they’re thinking of moving to, they were at Mohegan for Rachel’s birthday. It wasn’t hand-picked by Al as the perfect proposal place. Although let’s be honest… no one would be too shocked, budday! Double down and let it ride. Whoops! You just did.

My favorite part of the evening was the end of Doug’s speech – when he screamed “Sexual Chocolate” and dropped the microphone on the floor. The angry DJ didn’t calm down when we explained Doug’s reference (“That’s a $150 dollar mic , man!”), but the Concord contingent were howling. The “8-ball of Viagra” joke Doug aimed at a table full of his elderly relatives also met with furious laughter, as did Kingman’s tie.

See the full gallery of photos (so far) here. I installed some great new software over the weekend. You can leave comments and captions and even vote for your favorite pics. What you have to do (unfortunately) is register via the link the top of the gallery page (takes 2 seconds). Then you have the option to comment on all the individual pic pages once you’re logged in. Sorry for the extra hoop to jump through, but it doesn’t take long and you only have to do it once.

I realized that in all the excitement I’m a complete spaz and didn’t get a single good photo of Cara, so please email me all your snaps – there were plenty of Pye In The Face readers in attendance with cameras, so don’t hold back. I am talking to you, Stacey, Rachel and Mary Beth. Let’s get a fun gallery together with lots of captions and comments which I can then forward to the happy couple. I need your help, kids. EMAIL me your pics!

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Happy Slapping Amongst Cheeky Monkeys.


in

There’s a new craze amongst teenagers in England which is apparently influenced by American Shows like Jackass, Viva La Bam, etc. “Happy Slapping” has become all the rage amongst British yutes, and it’s a lot more sinister than it sounds. Here’s what a male 16 year old “slapper” (I have to make the sex distinction to avoid confusion with another popular definition of that word) had to say in defense of his new found hobby:

“Even though it might be quite painful (for the victim) and you obviously feel quite sorry for them because they’re injured or hurt or whatever and they’ve done nothing to deserve it, it’s still funny because it’s like seeing the sketch on TV.” Wicked funny, Niles.

What these little bastards do is akin to what we call swarming here in North America. A group of kids run up on, surround and then slap the shit out of unsuspecting bystanders – while one or two others record the assault on their camera phones. If that weren’t bad enough, some of the lower-level bottomfeeding British cable channels then compile these beatings into hour-long television shows. A concerned English blogger compiled some particularly violent excerpts. “I dug up quite a bit and hacked them together into a streaming media file. It’s not for the squeemish, these kids are clearly criminals“.

Jackass was all about a group of lifelong friends playing pranks on or subsequently beating the everloving Christ out of eachother – not ‘jumping in‘ random strangers on the street. It was their cameraderie which made the show so much fun to watch. Happy Slapping is frigging twisted – violent attacks can scar people for years – I know. I sincerely hope that the Old Bill puts the kaibosh on this ridiculous practice like yesterday. Please mark this moment on your calendars as the first time I officially rolled my eyes and muttered: “Kids today”.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Go Back To Jersey, Ya Moron!


in Monday's Quotelet

Atlantic City was interesting to say the least. I made it back safely, and I’ll post some photos over the weekend. In the meantime, it seems the Quizzlet lady has recovered from her grave illness as I found the following questions in my mailbox this morning. Also, tonight is Jim’s birthday. Anyone who’d like to join the revelry, please give me a call.

Appetizer: What is the worst movie you’ve ever seen?
I’m notorious for liking some pretty bad movies, so I think anyone who knows me will take this answer with a big ol’ hunk of kosher salt. I do, afterall, own such classics as Tango & Cash, Evil Dead and Salem’s Lot. But to be honest, I didn’t have to contemplate this question for long. The worst movie I’ve ever seen is Fahrenheit 911. Not for reasons of poor cinematic craftmanship. Michael Moore is a talented director. The reason I hated this film is the way in which it was disguised – and worse yet, perceived – as an objective documentary. Triumph of the Will had less of an agenda. Please read this and then this, and I promise I’ll never mention this fetid pile of dung again.

Soup: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
Photographs, a fear of wooden spoons and a plethora of mental scars. Speaking of scars, I’ve recently been asked several times, by different people, about the one on my eyebrow. While playing Starsky and Hutch at age 8 in Manotick, I slipped and fell whilst in pursuit of a dangerous criminal (Jennifer Snider). My head came flying down on a rusty trailer hitch of all things, and although I was fine I started bleeding like I’d been chainsawed. Jennifer’s older sister, Janet, was babysitting us at the time and the two of us decided to freak her out. I rang my own doorbell and was standing there absolutely soaked in blood when Janet opened the door and promptly screamed. It was the classic make-your-babysitter-think-you’ve-been-grotesquely-dismembered-whilst-under-her-care trick.

Salad: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you pick?
I would, and did, pick Boston. I could never live in the Urban Death Maze, and I don’t plan on heading back to Canada until I get my citizenship – although Vancouver is looking mighty attractive lately. I can only do what I do in a select number of cities, so my choices are fairly limited. As much as I’d love to move to Kentucky, where I could get an eight-story house for one month’s Boston rent, the only thing I could optimize there would be hate crimes.

Main Course: What’s a “big word” you like to use to impress people?
I used to run around with a guy named Andy Kirk when I’d go to visit my parents in Hong Kong. Andy worked as a bodyguard for some rich local, and was known absolutely everywhere to absolutely everyone. He showed my sister and I some of the greatest times of our young lives, acting as our personal tour guide over the Christmas holidays of 1994 & 1995. Doormen and club owners in WanChai, Central and Repulse Bay would look at us and say simply “Hello Mr Andy!” before letting our group cut the line and dodge the cover wherever we happened to be. It was an amazing way to see that mad island, and I’ll be forever grateful.

I still keep in touch with Andy, who currently lives in Manchester England, and a few years back he toured with Oasis as Noel Gallagher’s bodyguard. He IM’d me recently to tell me to get the Familiar to Millions tour DVD as he appears on it several times. Needless to say I ran out and got it, and sure enough – there’s Andy in a few scenes looking all big and bloody mean. Anyway, Oasis plays a great song called Acquiesce during the concert. I had never heard of it, as it was an obscure B-side to one of their later singles. Eventually I got around to looking up the meaning of the word – as prior to hearing the tune I had no idea it even existed. The simple definition is to “consent or comply passively or without protest.” So watch for me attempting to slip that word into conversations in the near future. And then beat me unmercifully when I do.

Dessert: Describe your hairstyle.
Tragic. I recently bit the bullet and had it cut after attempting for a few months to grow it out. When I was told last week that my hair resembled Bill Murray’s in Scrooged, I knew it was time to seek out that striped pole.

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