Thighs Wide Shut

AVP: Alien vs Predator

Save Yer $10, I’ll Slit Yer Eyes Out For Free!!

Alien vs Predator. More like Boring-Lame-O Humans Spelunking, While Occasionally Some Aliens Fight Some Predators And Stuff. When us people go to see a movie with initials in it (A.I., V.I. Warshawski, D.A.R.Y.L.) we expect to be entertained, and not have our intelligences raped, gawddangsit!!! Who wants to watch people search for artifacts for 45 minutes, when these characters should have been killed in the first 10 minutes and allow the real “stars” of the movie to rip the lungs off of each other for the next 80 minutes? Sure, a lot of humans do eventually get Sgt slaughtered, but things get so recockulus that a surviving woman befriends a Predator and they team up to take down some Aliens. I was just waiting for the Odd Couple theme song to chime in. YIIIIIIIKES this was truly whoreriffic. I wasn’t eggspecting Kramer vs Kramer here folks, but at least something resembling a movie!! Writer/Director Paul W.S. Anderson needs to stop playing Halo and take at least one screenwriting class. Or maybe he should have just opened a pad of Mad Libs and where it says name, enter “Alien” or “Predator”, and for the verbs, drop a “slash” or “mutilate” and then we’dabeen cooking!! This now makes two P.W. Andersons on my movie jihad list. One’s way over-pretentious (raining frogs?) and the other is a shlockmiester who wouldn’t know a good script from bad, even if Charlie Kaufman diarrheaed Being John Malkovich on his forehead. But with all wet dumps, there has to be light at the end of the wipe. And the only positive thing I could think of is that Lance Henriksen received a paycheck. You can’t say the same thing of Ilan Mitchell-Smith, who played dear ole Wyatt in Weird Science. Do you think he keeps in touch with his screen brother, Chet/Bill Paxton?

Anywho, here’s some versus movies me’d like to see be made:

Paul Mitchell vs Vidal Sassoon

Nekkid Lindsay Lohan vs Kirsten Dunst In Pudding

Verse vs Chorus

Pearl Jam’s Ten vs Pearl Jam’s Vs.

Aliens vs Eileen Wuornos

The People vs White Flint Mall

Fred Savage vs Judge Reinhold in Vice Versus

Barry Lyndon

Like Going To The Met For Three Hours, Without The Lines

I made a promise to myself and bygosh, I fulfilled it. Ya see, Stanley Kubrick is the greatest filmmaker of all time (OK, maybe second next to Joel Suckmaker) in my humble opinion. I’ve seen all of his brillyant works over and over and sometimes over that over, but I had never seen his period drama Barry Lyndon, which netted 4 Oscars at the ’76 Academy Awards. My sacred oath was to see it in a theater and thanks to one of the finest museums in New York Sit-Tay, America Museum of the Moving Image, the dream become a reality. I’m not much of a 18th Century English costume drama kind of Thigh Master, but if one person could pull it off and make me go ga-ga for it, it would be the Kubrickster. The man could tackle any genre he attempted: sci-fi, comedy, horror, war, thriller, and even the caper. And after inhaling the 3 hours of beauty that was displayed onscreen, period drama could also be added to that list. I was never bored, as something was always happening and oddly engaging, but I could easily see how some would fall under a coma of malaise. Kubrick was so meticulous in nailing down all of the little details of the era that you don’t feel like yer watching a movie about the late 1700s, but actually living in that time and going to the cinema to watch a movie about modern times. Yes, film hadn’t even been invented back then, but you get the idea. Ryan O’Neal may not have been the ideal choice as the title character, but its the settings, lighting, make-up, costumes, and music (the mise en scène, if you will) that do all the work here. Kubes choose to shoot entirely on location (real castles and the like) and utilize natural lighting. When you see a room illuminated by candlelight, that’s all the lighting used in that scene. For you green film students out there, in order to capture such delicate lighting you need a very special lens and SK was blessed to use a camera lens developed for NASA. This is probably the greatist period drama ever filmed and a muss c classic fo shore… unless yer too saturated with movies that contain sub-machine guns, cells phones, or Ben Affleck.

Dans ma peau aka In My Skin

aka The Worstestest ‘Skin’ Flick Me Have Ever Seen

A woman accidentally scrapes her legs and as time wears on, she becomes overly obsessed with scraping herself even more. If you enjoy watching a woman cut the sheet out of her arm with a steak knife under a table and doing other unwatchable stuff with her skin, then please turn in yer Thighs Wide membership card and move to Russia you sadistic f#%!

Little Steven’s International Underground Garage Festival

Cast of Zillions

Randall’s Island – August 14th

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Rock and Roll is not dead. And if you weren’t aware of that fact, you would have certainly known by the end of this superphantastisch festival. And tit was not cause the bands rocked (well, they did, 461643124 Xs over!), but cause the emcees of the day’s festivities (zoot-suited Kim Fowley and some fat British dude who reminded me of the over the top producer in Marky Mark’s Rock Star) would repeatedly tell you that it was not dead in between each act. Yeah it was a bit annoying, but that was really the only fault I could find in this mini-Coachella, located on an island surrounded by the Boogie Down Bronx, Queens, and Mannyhattan. Before we proceed I juss have to give some major props de leon to Lil Steven/Silvio Dante, who pieced together this unrelievable event. Who knew the E-Street band had more connections that T-Mobile?!?

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Me the cru (Pak-man and Ceffle) arrived around 2:30pm. By that time, we had missed 22 bands (!!), James Gandolfini and Paulie Walnuts‘s guest emcee spots, and the rotating stage that had gone kaput. But the Go-Go dancers were go-going and the rocking did not stop. As for the weather, we were quite lucky. Rain clouds loomed all day long, but didn’t really produce anything until the show was over. Each band, besides the headliners, basically had anywhere from 10-15 minutes of stage time. Sure that may be a bit short, but if you got sick of a band’s performance, you knew that a fresh sound was juss right around the corner. Perfect for those with short attention spans… like anyone born from 1976 on. And who needs to hear any other song by The Romantics besides “What I Like About You”? Now I’ll be honest, I’m a crazy music lover, but I didn’t know 78.4632% of the bands on the roster. I guess I should have studied harder during my History of Rock and Roll class at good ole IU.

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The first song I recognized of the day was The Creation’s “Making Time”, and that’s only cause it was included on the Rushmore soundtrack. Otherwise, The Mooney Suzuki were so moooney. The Pete Best Band were not the breast, but it’s the closest I’ve been to a “Beatle”, and their rendition of “Twist and Shout” gave me Ferris Buller goosebumps. Nancy Sinatra made dad proud and had everyone’s boots ready for walking and rocking. Bo Jackson may not have known diddley, but Bo Diddley’s certainly well acquainted with himself and knows how to make a guitar scream. Seeing him was a real treat and probably one of the breast performances of the day. The Raveonettes raved on, but their set was cut to only two songs… udder bull sheet!!! Glad I caught them at the Bowery awhile back, and you all should catch them the next time they hit your town. The reformation of The New York Dolls made the night sincerely magical, especially after losing bassist Arthur Kane just a month ago. David Johansen and co’s comeback electrified the stage… some say “Hot, Hot, Hot”. The Strokes have never sounded bad anytime I’ve seen them, and tonight was no different. I am so over them, but I was impressed they didn’t include “Last Nite” in their set. And finally, Igby may go down, but Iggy and the Stooges, they just crank the energy up, up, and up. Sure I was a lil bummed there was no “Lust For Life” or “Passenger” love, but I’ll be his f-in dog for sho!! This was a one-of-a-kind event that shouldn’tve been missed. We’d all be lucky if Lil Stevie decides to do one next year. My hopes and dreams for 2005: The Kinks, White Stripes, Social Distortion, The Hives, The Ventures, Dick Dale, BB King, Bowie, and somehow, The Velvet Underground.

Oh, and how could I forget the food and drinks!!! Many options on the eats front, Pak-man dug the curly fries, and we all inhaled funnel cakes, but no love for chocolate-covered-frozen-bananas? What’s up wit dat? And if yer ever headed to any mega-concert, please pray that Dunkin Donuts and Pepsi-Co are the sponsors. I mean, why pay for libations when you can have free samples of Pepsi (hmmm, I’ve need tried Pepsi before!) and DD’s iced lattes, to which me and the cru gladly downed 4 throughout the day. The combo of being crazy caffeinated and my body being tired as sheet, due to hours of standing, was the ultimate battle of wills. Caffeine won out and then when I got home, passing out ruled large.

Hope you were taking notes on how to run a concert Andrew Dreskin, you King of Failed Day (I’m no longer staying tuned for your next move).

[Note: All pictures taken with camera phones, as the threat of rain made me left my digi at home. Thanks to Pak-Man for most of em]

Collateral

No Collateral Damage Here Folks!

Michael Mann is really the man. He’s even gots an extra ‘n’ to prove it. The dude knows action and how to make pastels look good on men (see any episode of Miami Vice). While the flamingo pinks and chalk blue duds take a vacation in Collateral, the action and thrills mos certainly don’t. This flick is all that Heat should have been, but wasn’t. Everyone expected a movie with DeNiro and Pacino facing off to be the end all, but 6 1/2 hours later, we were all morerer bored than an emery board. My expectations were set on low for this one with the thought of a Jaime Foxx/white-haired Cruise teaming, but I was proved wrong twice over. Foxx is the real deal (like his Any Given Sunday character stated, “I aint going back to the bench”) and Cruise eggscelled in a rare baddie role. And when does a movie with Mark Ruffalo Wings sporting a shady mustache ever truly blow giraffe ball sweat? Never… until we saw him bang 76-year-old Meg Ryan in Jane Campion’s In the Cut. I won’t get into plot deetz, but for those of you who caught the David car-jacking ep on Six Feet Wonder, it was like that, times 3 and with more guns and gritty camera-work. This is a muss sea y’all. You want a thriller? Skip F Murray Shamaylamadingdong’s latest and set sail on this one bizotches!

Garden State

Wrong Exit On Turnpike

Why is Zach Braff being pimped-up as the next Jesus? The way people talk, you’d think that his directorial debut was Citizen Kane for the 00’s. It’s not even Reality Bites for any generation. He’s been compared to the Woodman, Hal Ashby, and posterchild for uber-coolness, Wes Anderson, but he’s more like a film student who somehow convinced Natalie Portman to pet and neck him and wear a bathing suit. Damn I wish I was a sitcom actor with connections. I’d be like “Lohan, why don’t you stop tanning and play me love interest in this movie about my home state of Maryland. I call it, The Old Line State. So sweet-teets, is you in or is you in?” And then people would hail me as the next Kubrick and post many a compliments on this .org as they do on his ‘blog’. Sure the direction was crisp, but haven’t I seen these shots in every movie of the past ten years? Sure the soundtrack rizocked, esp Simon & G-Funk’s “The Only Living Boy In New York”, but isn’t this movie about NJ and not NY? You wouldn’t even be able to tell by one frame of the entire film… cept when you hear the word ‘Newark’ in a VO or the Jersey accents that actors keep losing. And what’s with the plot? Boy disconnected with world. Mum dies. Goes home to NJ (did he really?). Ends up reconnecting. No thanks to his father Bilbo/Ian Holm, who was more wasted in this movie than Mickey Rourke in Barfly. And what’s the story with the Method Man’s back-alley peep-show cameo? Or the dude wearing knight’s armor after boning someone’s mum? Or the shirt that matches the bathroom wall? Don’t even get me firestarted. It seems like Braffster had like 312,332,176,674,434,566 cool ideas for scenes and somehow made a movie with them all. Now its time to play with letters: ‘e’ for nice effort, ‘a’ for not awful, and ‘c’ for lets wait and c what the kid comes up with next. By the way, my new b-friend Peter Sarsgaard should be in every movie ever and win every prize known to man, ever. Forever ever never battle of evermore ever!

Cube

Rubik’s Diarrheaing In His Grave

I think this was a Sci-Fi Channel original movie, but by the looks of it, a Bar Mitzvah videographer couldn’t even conjure up something this un-umcredbile. And I wish I could build a time machine and travel back to the casting call for this shitpick. They must have eggcepted the first 7 people who walked thru the door who were willing to work for Polly-O-String Cheese.

– Forget about following what those “professional bloggers” are reporting at the DNC. Just czech out what our man the Shoppe of Products Keeper has scooped up.

– And is Vincent Gallo the creepiest Republican ever? [Link via Zach de la Roachclip]

– Weezer, say it aint so: New York Subway Stop Names For Sale?.

– To Hell with Lohan’s Herbie: Fully Loaded, cause Toyota’s going to unleash a real car with real emotions. Scare-E shiz. Maybe we should have listened to Will Smith’s proclamation of Them, Robots.

– The Archdukes invade the Roseland Ballroom on September 9th. Tickets go on sale this Friday at noon. Get em before all the hipster bloggers beat you to em!

– Everyone’s one stop shop for a$$holeism, SiegHeil.de has a new look… being redirected to Shoa.de, a site dedicated to exposing the horrors of the Holocaust.

– My boy Wanamaker is fit, but don’t he know it! He’s the one smiling in the lower left-hand corner.

– If yer rich, marry me, but also peepage what my girl Chillary “My Last Name Really Isn’t” Johnmis on CNN has to say about bling-bleaux travel and leisure.

– Saddam loves muffins and cookies, gardening, and penning poems about GWBusch. He’s more American than Amerigo Vespucci.

– Words. Lots of words.

– VMA noms announced. Yer umhumble Thigh Master has declared a jihad on the VMAs ever since the Gorillaz’ “Clint Eastwood” video lost to Mudvayne for the M2 award in 2001.

– Jenny McCarthy to star in a Dirty movie that she also wrote and her husband will direct. If her boobs aren’t in it for 68/69nths of the time, I’ll demand my money back.

– Calculate how much booze you’ve downed in yer life here. [Link via Randall Palms]

– The Steven Segal Official Fan Club. Don’t sign up all at once now! [Link 1nce again via Zach de la Roachclip]

– And don’t read this before lunch or visiting yer dentist: Dentist Allegedly Injected Semen Into Patients’ Mouths. [Link via Guns ‘n’ Rosenthal]

Saturday July 17th

After Prince, me and Curious George’s mum were more hungry than me family during Yom Kippur. We marched up and down Hell’s Kitchen with our mouths watering. McHale’s? Closed. Vynl? Ditto. We settled on the only place that looked decent and open (not in that order). This place be called Eatery. And Eatery be an f-in fantastic choice for semi-late at nite or whenever. It’s sorta like Houston’s, but without the really dark lighting. Grab yerself an Adobe Salad or the Mac and Jack. C’mon, when it comes to food, you can trust me!!!

Later that “day”… Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head, and nowhere to be found was my friend Jed. Today was going to be hot and sweaty and filled with hipsters, so me and Curious George’s mum needed some pre-Siren-Fest-nurshiment. We headed to the only place for unrelievable $3.50 cubano sandwiches that rock the fliz-house: El Malecon II. Everything there is so deli-scrumptious that Doc Oc himself, Alfred Molina, said in Time Out NY that he munches down there.

We boarded el tren, with a Yes & Know pad in-hand (ours was for ages 11-111 only), and headed on down like the Warriors going to Coney Island. 17 days later (or how long it takes to get from the UWS to CI), we made it to our destination. Not much to describe other than we got high on The Wonder Wheel (swinging car for swingers only), rode the best wooden coaster ever, The Cyclone, twice, rocked a wee bit of skeeball and carnie games, got major swamp ass from the batting cages, ate a forkload of Nathan’s dogs, checked out bitz and pretzels of Electric Six, Blonde Redhead, and You Will Slow Us By The Smell Of The Dead (hard to hear music when a giant rollo coaster is right next to the stage), and also ate a mango on a stick! It was umcredible and here are some pictures of what umcredible looks like:

Sunday July 18

Bored myself to tears with my first visit to the American Museum of Natural History. Didn’t really have a “whale” of a good time looking at fake animals and Native peoples. My interests lie in the unknown, not the known. Therefore my cup of tea was filled in the space shills hizarea. Donated my liver and testicles and I still couldn’t afford the $17.50 (discounted) ticket to the Tom Hanks’ narrated Passport to the Universe flick. Eventually donated my sperm and we were clear for take off. The seats vibrated and I learned that our galaxy is in something called the Virgo Super Cluster. If I ever got that far away from Earth, I’d be so cluster-f%#ked. Wrapped it up with a quick trek round the best American art museum, El Met, scarfed down some mad kill-ill-ah pizza at Big Nick’s, passed out, then woke up for a nite of magical HBO.

Life hasn’t been this grand since I was circumcised.