The story of the syndicated wrestling television program is examined in this touching, bittersweet documentary. Featuring bleached perms, outlandish eyeshadow, skimpy leotards and at least one gruesome injury, the campy show was wildly popular for 5 years and then was abruptly cancelled, but not before performing some atrocious raps...
...or chasing a titillated Bob Eubanks around a podium.
Bruce Campbell stars in this low-budget TV movie where people are holed up in a small airport when an alien invasion strikes, and by "alien invasion" I mean "an elderly preacher goes on a men's room rampage and then dissolves into a Pepsi-like CGI puddle", but that makes it sound more exciting than it is. Cheap, stagey, and irritating, Terminal Invasion is a lot like the 90s television show Wings only with unbearable bickering characters that have to undergo an unusual X-Ray baggage scan, so yeah, it's totally like the TV show Wings.
For some reason a vending machine is destroyed, and a bunch of Oh Henry candy bars go to waste, which is a shame because I really like those.
So yeah, I would avoid Terminal Invasion unless you like Sartre-esque alien invasion horror films, and even if you do like those you probably won't like this.
Ken Russell directs what starts out as a fairly bland British film, but because Ken Russell directs it you only have to wait a couple of minutes before the nun-raping begins. Sometime later there's a sudsy, leather-booted bubble bath, but that's because Ken Russell is directing. Then there's some very subtle penis metaphors, and when I say "very subtle" I really mean "flat-out and couldn't be more obvious" because Ken Russell is directing. Hugh Grant takes second billing to Amanda Donahoe and plays against type as an snooty British fop with enviable hair, and by "plays against type" I really mean "plays every role he's ever played". Lair Of The White Worm is gory, silly, and excessive, but very stylish.
Irritating people take the elevator with some sort of vague, menacing presence in this claustrophobic, implausible thriller, and I'm saying it's implausible because I always take the stairs. Even though my penthouse is on the 42nd floor, on the rare occasion when I do leave the building I try to take the stairs. Yes, it's a lot of stairs to climb, but it's great for cardiovascular fitness. When you sit a lot, it's important to keep fit. Also, I don't particularly like people, and I'd rather not be near them. All those people crammed into a tiny space, with the looming threat that someone might accidentally touch me, or the real possibility that someone is going to breathe on me; well, that's a situation that I find completely unacceptable. Plus, even if I wanted to murder someone, I sure in the heck wouldn't do it in an elevator. It's too messy. That's the reason why I installed the open elevator shaft. One quick shove, and down they go. No splash-back at all. I won't have to worry about all those messy human liquids and particulates getting all over my rock t-shirt, and Tide doesn't grow on trees. I don't have all day to do load after load of laundry, and brains stain. So next time you're in a high-rise building, take the stairs.
A werewolf disembowels rednecks in this early Asylum film. Surprisingly well-shot for an Asylum film, The Beast Of Bray Road was hardly Sharknado-esque at all. It's still not very good, however. There's lots of entrails, bad dye-jobs, and some unconvincing machismo. There's also one of the most awesome pickup lines ever, which was "Let's go sit next to the creek and listen to the frogs". How romantic! If that's not a pantydropper, then I don't know what is. Anyway, various locals have a delicious Pudwiser at the neighborhood bar when the aren't being devoured by a monster that looks suspiciously like a pile of dryer lint with teeth, and it's not as exciting as it sounds. One remarkable thing about The Beast Of Bray Road...there's no prerequisite Asylum helicopter scene.
It's the craziest thing. Maybe they couldn't figure out how to get a werewolf in a helicopter, or maybe they just couldn't afford to rent one.
I have never claimed to be a fortune-teller, and I don't really know how space travel will work in 2047. However, I have seen a lot of outer space movies, and I know for sure that if Sam Neill says, "Hey, could you do me a solid and fly to Neptune with Laurence Fishburne so we can haul back my kinky, pointy, rubber-coated sex-torture dungeon space hooptie which causes nightmarish hallucinations? It'll be fun!", I'm probably going to be busy that weekend doing something that isn't that, because I can't think of a single time when doing something with Lawrence Fishburne didn't turn out to be problematic and awkward.
And hanging out with Sam Neil in outer space is only going to result in sparks, flashing lights and explosions.
Anyway, Event Horizon is one of those big explodey outer space adventures where outer space mishaps happen every few minutes as various CGI things go floating or flying by the screen, and you can expect a noisy jump-scare just as often.
I'm only fairly certain about one thing in regards to future outer space travel. You don't have to go to outer space in the future to go to Hell. Hell is here on Earth right now, and it's at Walmart.
Oops, sorry. I didn't mean to post that. I meant to post this:
Smarmy, elitist movie reviewers explain how their opinions are better than everyone else's and how they just sort of lucked into the job in this average documentary about movie reviewers. Did you know there are no real qualifications to be a movie reviewer? I know, right? With so many reviewers all giving opinions, you would think there would be some sort of standard. Not so. My eyes were opened during this documentary, when several of the reviewers interviewed plainly stated they often had no intention of becoming a reviewer, and just sort of started doing it. Fascinating!
I find that to be simultaneously heartening and dismaying. From what I gather, to be a film critic all you really have to do is watch movies in your spare time, have a different career than criticism, and just fling reviews willy-nilly until someone takes notice who'll eventually pay you. Sweet. I'm looking forward to that gravy train rolling in soon, as I'm exceedingly qualified. Start cutting those m'f'n movie checks. I have a lot of very expensive opinions.
