Tag: cinema

A Snotty Teen Reviews The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

The Ministry of Whatever: Another Stupid History Snore-Fest

Reviewed by Emmy Mulligan for TheHumbleHeckler.com

(Editor’s note: Guest critic Emmy Mulligan is an entitled teenager. Keep this in mind when reading the following review.)

What is it with all these totally lame movies about history? First I had to sit through the movie about the guy who made a super-big bomb thingy. Then I had to endure that super-long movie about that short French military guy. So I shouldn’t be surprised that I’d have to waste a whole afternoon on a new movie about that chubby English prime minister guy who enlists a bunch of other people to totally make the Nazis crash their submarines or whatever. WTF? I mean, come on, man. Movies aren’t for learning stuff. At least, the good ones aren’t.    

I just don’t understand why these movies keep happening. I mean, World War II ended, like, twenty years ago. Time to turn the page, people. Anyhow, the worst thing about this film was seeing it alone. My BFF Becca was supposed to come with me, but she totally bailed to hang out with Greg Dawson, which is, like, mind-bottling because he doesn’t even have a car. Whatever! Hope you enjoyed your afternoon stroll, Becca. It may have cost you your best friend.

Henry Anvil in The Minister’s War Against Gentlemen

At least the movie stars that hot guy who played Superman. I think his name is Henry Anvil. Doesn’t matter—I’m not Googling it. It also has that other smokin’-hot muscly dude from that show Reacher (haven’t seen it, not gonna watch it). And I’ve been told that the director is someone I should know. His last name is Ritchie, but that’s all I know about this guy. In fact, I’m just gonna refer to him as that Ritchie guy because, again, I’m not Googling the guy’s first name. I mean, if the guy had an interesting first name, I’m sure I would’ve remembered it, but clearly this Ritchie guy is totally lacking a memorable first name. So I’m done talking about the guy.

To be fair, the movie isn’t a total waste. There were at least three different times when the movie got loud and exciting enough for me to look up from my phone. But overall I didn’t enjoy my time with The Ministry of Something About War or Something. For one, it was way too long. I could tell my butt was getting super numb from all the sitting. Two, my Diet Coke was, like, nine dollars or something. Number three, the hot dudes weren’t shirtless enough. And, lastly, it’s super gross. There’s, like, tons of explosions and killings and whatnot. No kidding. There were times when the gore got so heavy I totally thought I was gonna yark or something.

Theater soda is expensive as balls!

So … I’m sorry, but I can’t give The Ministers’ Gentlemanly War a recommendation. The hairstyles were so yesterday, the clothes were totally lacking personality, and there wasn’t one single recognizable pop song. Maybe if these war films spent a little more time being fun and colorful, I wouldn’t have to crap all over them. Here’s some free advice to directors making war movies: A little Beyonce goes a long way.

Verdict: I’m giving The War Gentlemen’s Minister one manicured hand out of five and a bloody middle finger for wasting my time. (The Unministerly War Gentlemen is rated R for, like, super-disgusting war scenes, expensive soda, offensive fashion choices, yark-worthy close-ups of wounds, and for creating a rift between me and Becca. Oh, and adult situations.)  

Godzilla x Kong (?): More Like Trojan Horse vs. Unsuspecting Public

Reviewed by Anonymous for TheHumbleHeckler.com.

(Editor’s note: The film critic known as Anonymous suffers from an excessive persecution complex and is prone to fits of extreme paranoia. Please keep this in mind when reading the following review. His or her opinions do not necessarily reflect those of TheHumbleHeckler.com.)

Some fools may see Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire as another leisurely stroll through the Matrix that governs us all. Some have even referred to it as “harmless entertainment.” But those of those whose eyes are wide open know better than that. In reality, this film is a thinly veiled metaphor for the coming New World Order. Don’t believe me? Just look at the facts. For starters, the subtitle of this film is The New Empire. Coincidence? Only if you make a habit of buying whatever Big Brother sells you without question. And then there’s the story. Check this out: Godzilla (or Asia) and Kong (or North America) join forces to fight off a serious threat to someplace called Hollow Earth (or the truth). And the whole thing plays out in one violent fight sequence after another, not-so-subtly suggesting that all-out war is inevitable. And who profits from war? You know damn well who. The Man—that’s who. The Godzilla character suggests that the war will be atomic in nature. While Kong clearly represents the use of guerrilla (a lazy play on words, I know) tactics to infiltrate and detonate WMD’s in our cities and towns, right under our noses. The film also implies that Kong may be patient zero (Typhoid Hairy, if you will) in an impending worldwide outbreak of the monkeypox virus.

Original Theatrical Movie Poster

Director Adam Wingard (if that is his real name) is at his nefarious best, employing state-of-the-art effects work, colorful scenery, playful banter, and exciting action sequences to lay the groundwork for the coming cataclysm, an inevitable shift in the power structure and social order that will create a new society—something the film refers to as the MonsterVerse. Meanwhile, the popcorn-munching masses never suspect a thing. Wingard was certainly given every opportunity to pull off this masterpiece of subterfuge. Every possible financial and material resource was made available to him. After all, the film has a production budget of $135 million, but my sources tell me the actual budget was closer to $160 billion. So … where did all the money go? Because it certainly isn’t all on the screen. The answer is simple and terrifying: Nanobot technology.

Every single official Godzilla x Kong soda cup, popcorn bucket, and plastic toy has been coated with a microscopic layer of nanobots whose sole purpose is to infiltrate your bodies, either through ingestion or skin absorption, and burrow into your brains, crisscrossing your hardwiring until you can no longer think for yourself. The nanobots are also trained to give you super-cravings for Coke and theater popcorn, which is more than a little petty and unnecessary. But am I surprised? Not one bit. I mean, we are talking about Warner Bros. Pictures here, people.

Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire is, at best, an effective propaganda film, and, at worst, the beginning of the end of all life on Earth as we know it. But Dan Stevens is pretty cool and Rebecca Hall is always worth the price of admission, so what the hell. If you don’t have a problem with becoming a useless, drooling, subservient automaton give Godzilla x Kong a shot. At least you’ll get to see a lizard and a monkey break stuff.

I give Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire five tinfoil hats out of a possible five.

(Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire is rated PG-13 for pervasive use of subliminal imagery, extensive growling, monkey nudity, uncomfortable dialogue, and adult situations.)              

Five Things You Couldn’t Possibly Know About Friday the 13th (1980)

Written by Henry Bernice for TheHumbleHeckler.com.

(Editor’s note: Film critic/historian Henry Bernice has been struck by lightning seven times. Keep this in mind when reading the following article.)

Friday the 13th is one of the more polarizing horror films of the ’80s. Legions of horror fans see something in the film that legions of film critics simply do not. But, love it or hate it, the film has made an indelible impact on the industry, one that continues to this day. More than four decades after that first fateful trip to Camp Crystal Lake, generations of Friday fans continue to spend their hard-earned dollars and their precious time pouring over the minutia of the film’s most trivial tidbits, wearing their knowledge of the film(s) on their sleeves like a merit badge from Camp No-Be-Bo-Sco. And yet I have come up with five juicy little factoids that even the most ardent Friday fan couldn’t possibly know. So … here we go.

(1) Most Friday enthusiasts know that the film was originally titled A Long Night at Camp Blood. But only a privileged few have heard the actual working title: Friday July 13th, Around Seven O’clock P.M. Can you imagine such an awful title being seriously considered? But that’s nothing compared to the title proposed by Paramount Pictures bigshot producer Colin Bretherton, who wanted the film called: Camp Necky Stabby in honor of the film’s most notorious murder (you know, the scene where Kevin Bacon gets it right through the neck). Other prominent title suggestions include: The Horny Teen Massacre, Kind of Halloween, but not really, and Friday in New Jersey.

Actor Billy Dee Williams had no affiliation with the film.

(2) The film had to be completed on a budget of $550,000. To cut costs, all of the cabins seen in the film were made completely out of fudge and Rice Krispie treats. “We thought it was a good idea,” said Sean S. Cunningham (the film’s producer/director) in a 1982 interview with Film Monsters Magazine. “But, boy, were we ever wrong. Those cabins attracted every hungry animal withing ten miles of the set. By the second week, we were up to our cornholes in rat bites and bear attacks.”

(3) Mrs. Voorhees was not supposed to be the killer. Believe it or not, the original script called for Crazy Ralph (“You’re all doomed!”) played by Walt Gorney to be revealed as the Camp Crystal Lake killer in the film’s final moments. Unfortunately, Mr. Gorney fell ill and had to be hospitalized before the film was finished shooting his scenes. “It was the damnedest thing,” Cunningham told an interviewer for Haute Couture Magazine in 1981. “One day we came to the set and found him [Walt] eating his weight in fudge and Rice Krispie treats. I mean, that guy was chewing right through the walls of one of the cabins. It was crazy.” Years later at a horror convention, when asked about the lost opportunity to play one of horror cinema’s all-time great villains, Walt Gorney said, “Worth it.” Then he threw a half-finished Bahama Mama-flavored Slush Puppie at Betsy Palmer.

Queen Elizabeth II: The world’s most famous Friday fan.

(4) Queen Elizabeth is a big fan. That’s right, QE2 loves the Voorheeses and all of their gory misadventures. She was overheard talking about the Friday films at the snack bar while appearing for an official Audience with Pope Francis in 2015. “I can watch all of the Paramount Fridays, but that first one is hella scary,” she said. There is also an unconfirmed rumor stating that QE2 collects Jason masks. “Oh hell yeah, she loves her Jason masks. She even paints them and gives them customized machete gashes,” said Sarah, Duchess of York, in an off-the-record 2019 chat with journalist Chelsea Taunton from the magazine Modern Root Beer Enthusiast. “I think she’s even got a withered Pamela head tucked away in a closet at Balmoral.”

(5) Kevin Bacon was almost fired. It’s hard to believe now, but there was a time when Kevin Bacon was difficult to work with on set. Screenwriter Victor Miller recalled some of the not-so-fond memories of shooting with Bacon in an interview with Immoral Dentistry Magazine in 1990. “Kevin was in a strange place at that time. He wanted to do the role as a Polish transfer student, and no matter how much we pleaded with him, he refused to acquiesce. So he spoke with a Polish accent for the entire production.” The situation became so dire that Cunningham had to bring in an actor to dub all of Bacon’s lines. “We couldn’t afford a top-tier voice actor,” Miller said. “So we had to bring in an unknown named Arnold Schwarzenegger. And, like, shockingly, he totally nailed it. Too bad he went uncredited.”

So, there ya’ have it, Friday fans. Five more things you can use at parties to impress other … um … trivia enthusiasts, maybe? Yeah, let’s go with trivia enthusiasts. Bye!

It’s Me, Billy: Traditional Sequel or Postmodern Masterpiece?

Reviewed by Armen Steckler-Briggs for TheHumbleHeckler.com.

(Editor’s note: Film critic Armen Steckler-Briggs is unaware of the 1974 film Black Christmas. He has also recently been institutionalized for excessive glue sniffing. Keep this in mind when reading the following review.)

Well … here’s something new. Just when I thought I’d seen it all, here comes It’s Me, Billy, one of the strangest sequels (or films) I’ve ever seen–and maybe one of the most brilliant.

Written and directed by Bruce Dale and Dave McRae, It’s Me, Billy serves as both a fantastically realized slasher film and (get this) as a sequel to the 1979 family classic Black Beauty. I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, I felt the same way at first, but, as crazy as this premise sounds, it works … somehow.

In this iteration, Black Beauty (the equine hero from the original film) has gone all Travis Bickle after years of being forced into servitude as a racehorse. That’s right, this beauty is pissed and it’s time for someone to pay. Victoria Mero stars as the granddaughter of Alec Ramsey, the man who initially befriended Black Beauty before ultimately betraying their friendship and exploiting the majestic creature for financial gain.

Here’s the story: After learning that Alec Ramsey has passed away, Black Beauty devises a plan to do away with as many surviving Ramseys as possible. He begins by inviting Ramsey’s granddaughter (Mero, in a devastating, gritty performance) and two of her besties to Ramsey’s house for some good old-fashioned Christmas spirit. This is when the film takes a turn away from the spirited family friendly adventure of the original in favor of a dark examination of why good horses go bad. And believe me, this horsey has indeed gone bad. Now referring to himself as “Billy,” Black Beauty embarks on a murder spree, picking off his victims one at a time until his blood lust is satiated.

This is where It’s Me, Billy mutates into a postmodern masterpiece. The film forces the viewer to ask some pretty tough questions like: Is “Billy” a character Black Beauty plays in order to psychologically distance himself from the violence he is about to commit? Or is “Billy” a more permanent manifestation of Black Beauty’s fractured psyche? Has “Billy” completely taken over Black Beauty so completely that Black Beauty no longer exists at all? Or does “Black Beauty” now exist in the mind of a fully realized Billy? The answer really doesn’t matter because you get to see a horse kill people.

Honestly, after watching this film, I have to put Billy up there with the greatest screen killers of all time. After all, Norman Bates is scary, but he isn’t a freakin’ horse. I mean, imagine you’re in a big scary house at night, settling in, getting ready for bed … And then, out of the shadows comes a knife-wielding horse. Let’s be honest, the heart attack will get you long before the serial-killing horse.

Dale and McRae do a good job of keeping Billy/Beauty in the shadows, never allowing too much to be seen. We don’t hear any neighing or the clippity-clop of hooves hitting hardwood. That would be too obvious. (For the record, we also never see any big, steamy horse poopies, either. That would have been gratuitous and silly.) No, instead we are treated to a subtle, terrifying film that works as both an experiment in pure terror as well as a treatise on equine mental health issues.

I give It’s Me, Billy a perfect five stars out of a possible five.

(It’s Me, Billy is rated NC-17 for graphic violence, profanity, nightmare imagery, drug abuse, and one brief shot of horse schlong.)

Annabelle: Creation is Really … um … Good?

Annabelle: Creation is Really … um … Good?

Reviewed by Adam Trolley Bing for TheHumbleHeckler.com

(Editor’s note: Film critic Adam Trolley Bing has admitted to not actually seeing Annabelle: Creation before posting the following review.)

Annabelle: Creation … Wow. I mean, where do I even begin? This is one of those movies where I really don’t want to say too much and give away anything important. That would be irresponsible criticism.

I will say that this movie is nothing if not professionally made. For example, the cinematography is extraordinary. The film was obviously shot with professional-grade cameras, the kind only true pros would bother to use. And boy does it pay off, because the movie is almost always in focus and every frame makes visual sense. Like, when the camera is pointing at a person or something really scary or a piece of furniture or something, you totally believe what you’re seeing on the screen. You just don’t see that kind of technical wizardry every day in Hollywood films.

And don’t even get me started on the sound design. This film is just jam-packed with all sorts of sounds. I consider myself a bit of a “sound aficionado,” so believe me when I say that the scope, diversity, and quality of sounds in this movie is absolutely mind blowing. Trust me, you’ll be black and blue from pinching yourself in disbelief at how realistic some of these sounds are. I can’t even remember how many times I said to myself “Oh yeah, I recognize that sound.” And if it’s realism you crave, wait until you see the costume design.

The women’s costumes in the film are astounding. They really look like the kind of stuff these particular characters would have in their closets. The same can pretty much be said for all the male characters as well. There is one male character in particular whose choice of pants really speaks volumes about who he is as a person, where he’s been, and where he wants to go. All of his hopes and dreams are right there on display in the face of his belt buckle, and the way in which the fabric fades a little near his pockets suggests an unfulfilled longing that hits me right in my gut even now, long after seeing the film. But let’s not forget that these amazing costumes are just empty vessels without talented actors to inhabit them and allow them to realize their full potential.

Luckily, this movie is defined by great performances. According to Wikipedia—I mean according to the credits, which I sat and watched in their entirety, the movie stars Stephanie Sigman as Sister Charlotte. And, oh, man, does she ever give a whopper of a performance. I’m sure nuns are going to see this and say “She totally nailed us.” And then there’s Anthony LaPaglia and Miranda Otto as a married couple. Let me tell ya’, there isn’t one second of film where you don’t believe that these two are married. They play a married couple so well that I’d be shocked if their real-life spouses didn’t crap their pants out of sheer jealousy. Years from now, people will look back on these performances in history classes to study the way married people used to behave.

So … is Annabelle: Creation scary? I would have to say … uh … yeah, pretty much, sure. I mean, if you like atmospheric ghost stories with great acting, professional camera work, seamless editing, a believable sound design, and character-defining costumes, all set to a score that just really utilizes the perfect number of musical instruments, then Annabelle: Creation is probably for you. But what’s really fun about a movie like this is the debate that I’m sure people will be having in the days and weeks to come over the film’s various uses of all kinds of really interesting themes, motifs, and metaphors and whatnot.

For the record, I hope my analysis hasn’t gone too deep, and that I haven’t ruined the film for anyone. Any spoilers present in this review are completely accidental, I promise.

I give Annabelle: Creation 5 question marks (?????) out of a possible 5.

(Annabelle: Creation is rated R for any number of vague, adult-type things and situations that are not easily described but that people under 17 really shouldn’t see. I mean, the MPAA has a tough job, so who am I to question their criteria for rating a movie like this. Now, I can’t say for sure that I would have given this film an R, but my opinion doesn’t matter. Although, now that I think about it, I probably wouldn’t take my children to see this film. Of course, I don’t have children, but that’s hardly the fault of Annabelle: Creation or the MPAA.)

Atomic Blonde

Atomic Blonde is Da Bomb

Reviewed by Jane Doeadeer for TheHumbleHeckler.com

(Editor’s note: Film critic Jane Doeadeer has been missing since the filing of the following review. Anyone with information pertaining to her whereabouts should contact their local law enforcement officials immediately. Do not attempt to make contact with her on your own.)

Violence in Hollywood filmmaking is so passé. This latest generation of so-called action films is really little more than a collection of ultraviolent kill-scenarios haplessly stitched together in a series of nauseating fast cuts of extreme close-ups set to a soundtrack of thundering percussion until the entire screen is rendered nothing more than a dripping, oozing backdrop for bloody bullet wounds, broken bones, and freshly slain bodies. So, as a feminist and a mother of two beautiful, innocent children, I have to ask: Is this brand of immoral violence really entertaining?

In the case of the new Charlize Theron actioner Atomic Blonde the answer is … awww hells to the yeah!!!

I never in my wildest imagination thought that watching a gorgeous woman punch a man in the face could be so exhilarating, so captivating, so life altering. Holy balls was I wrong. Charlize was all hella jacked and knocking out fools with her fists of fury, and I was like, “You go girl. Give them boys what they gots comin’ to ‘em. Show those panty wastes no mercy.” And that’s exactly what my girl Charlize did. Hell, she was havin’ so much fun punchin’ out suckaz I decided to give it a try my damn self. I coldcocked the silly bastard sittin’ next to me in the theater. Hit that boy hard, son. Hella hard. Pretty sure I knocked out a tooth; damn sure I drew blood. Fool looked like he was smuggliln’ a balloon in his bottom lip.

My high was startin’ to fade, so I bounced and went to the gun store round the way and got myself all Glocked up. I been takin’ down scores ever since. Crazy ass clerk at the Stop ‘N Shop tried to step to me, actin’ all tough, like he all that. So I pistol whipped that fool. Now he’ll see my calling card every time he passes a mirror. Sorry it had to go down that way, but don’t poke the bear and act all surprised when ya’ get mauled. Turns out the little prom queen at the jewelry store wasn’t as dumb as she looked. Girl gave up the goods right away. No questions asked. She knew I wasn’t playin’. My eyes told her so.

So now I’m on my way to Mexico. If you really think you can stop me, just get in my way and see what happens. Yeah … I didn’t think so.

Oh, by the way, James McAvoy is really, really good in this. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always like him, but the way in which he continues to mature as an actor is astounding. I mean, he keeps challenging himself to raise his craft to the next level, and I really admire that. Can’t wait to see what he does next.

Yeah, so … anyway … Daaaamn!

I give Atomic Blonde 5 stars out of a possible 5, and a cap in the ass of anyone who disrespects Charlize. She’s my girl!

(Atomic Blonde is rated R for strong language, strong graphic violence, and because the presence of a strong female lead in an action film makes suckaz nervous. And I’m out!)