My Weekend

My wife left town for the 5th & 6th (she's caddying for her dad in a golf tournament), so I had plenty of time to lay around and not accomplish anything. These were the movies that aided me in that feat.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Very funny movie, as most people have already said by this point. It's the usual Judd Apatow mix of manchild humor mixed with the basic outlines of real emotion. It's not Oscar gold, but it beats the crap out of any post-2000 Kate Hudson movie. I was surprised by how much characterization was given to Kristen Bell and Russell Brand. In most romantic comedies, they would have been evil caricatures. Bell is given a great scene were she explains how much she tried to love Jason Segal's protagonist. Brand spends most the of movie hamming it up, but has a few quiet revelatory moments where we see that there is a real person hiding beneath his crazy rockstar veneer. I can't wait for the inevitable extended, unrated DVD.

The Happening
If I had been writing my thoughts down in a journal, this is how it would have likely appeared.

(0:05) "This isn't so bad."
(0:20) "The dialogue is bad, but I'm surprisingly involved."
(0:35) "This movie got cheated. This is pretty good."
(0:40) "Wait, what?"
(0:50) "Oh, thank God they're not really going with that 'killer plants' angle."
(0:52) "Are you fucking kidding me?"
(1:00) "Now who the Hell is this lady?"
(1:08) "She's ancient, just punch the bitch in the face and continue cowering from the plants."
(1:10) "The wind? Really? That's scary?"
(1:15) "It's just over? Like that?"
(1:18) "I hate you. I hate you so hard."
(1:20) "I can't understand what they're saying. I think I forgot to turn on the subtitles. Oh well, they're French. No one cares what they're saying."
(1:21) "Good, I'm glad they're going to die."

Was it as bad as everyone made it out to be? Not really. But it was still plenty bad.

Flight of the Phoenix
I'm a few years late on this one. I'm not even sure why I chose to watch it now. It was maddeningly mediocre. It's always right about to be something better, without ever actually becoming something better. And just when it seems like it will get so much worse, it levels out. Overall I don't think my time was wasted watching it, but I could have used that time to watch something better.

Fear Itself: "Eater"
None of the episodes of Masters of Horror where great, but a few of them were pretty good. When I heard that the show was being canceled, I was disappointed. But shortly afterward series creator Mick Garris announced that he was starting a similar series for NBC, titled Fear Itself. The only difference? NBC's show was going to be watered-down for network TV. Naturally, I had no hope for the series. And neither did Garris, apparently. Not long into production he left the show (but he still gets a "Created By" credit). When the episodes started airing, they received abysmal reviews and not much audience. In fact, if this were not the slow summer season, I have no doubt it would have been yanked off of the air by now. By it's been allowed to keep limping forward. And after watching the episode entitled Eater, I am damn happy that it's summer. It took 5 episodes, but Fear Itself finally landed a good one. And more surprising is how much gore made it into the episode. I've been watching TV for years, and I've never seen that much carnage on network TV. This would have been considered a gory episode even if it had aired on Showtime as part of the original series. Props to Stuart Gordon for always finding a way to bring out the good stuff. The plot is Horror 101 stuff. A shape-shifting voodoo cannibal is loose in a police station, and the cops have to fight for their lives. But Gordon can make anything creepy, and he really turns on the juice for this one. I doubt there has ever been a scarier hour on network TV. But I also believe that Eater is a fluke, a small glint of light in an otherwise stormy sky. Fear Itself should still be canceled, and Showtime should renew the rights to Masters of Horror so we can get back to the unfiltered stuff.