But once it was over and I walked out of the theater, during that period of quiet reflection while your eyes adjust to the over-bright world outside, the movie didn’t seem quite as brilliant as it did scant moments before. The feeling just wouldn’t leave me, like that crap-cloud that hung around Pig-Pen from Peanuts. I spent several uneasy minutes trying to figure out what happened. Like the way you slowly recognize a friend you haven’t seen for twenty years, it eventually came to me. The Hangover was just another rip-off.

If the similarities don’t immediately strike you, I composed a table highlighting some of the most egregious points:

As you can see, from the basic premise (hungover guys trying to find what they lost) to the casting of Cleo King in almost the same role, The Hangover apes Dude, Where’s My Car at every turn. It’s not really arguable that The Hangover didn’t steal the basic plot. The best you could do is say that it was heavily influenced by Dude, Where’s My Car. You could be so bold as to call it an homage. Or you could be a buzzword-spouting dick and call it a reimagining.

It’s too bad that Dude, Where’s My Car had to have it’s good name shat upon by The Hangover. But it’s even worse that everyone, regrettably even me, handed over their hard-earned scratch to watch the same recycled garbage over again. I like funny movies. I like them more when I haven’t seen THE EXACT SAME DAMN MOVIE BEFORE. The Hangover is to me like those pair of shoes you wear when you step in a steamy dog turd- no matter how much you liked them before, now they’ll always have that stinky brown stigma on them.

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There’s somethin’ wrong with the world today
I don’t know what it is
Something’s wrong with our eyes

-Aerosmith, Livin’ on the Edge

The are few things that have gotten as tedious for me as watching horror movies. It seems all modern horror movies fit the same mold. There’s an interesting idea. A half-assed attempt to make us care about the victims (there aren’t really protagonists in horror movies any more, just victims and iconic psychopaths). There are a few atmospheric scares. Then the filmmakers run out of ideas and begin painting with bazookas, becoming more blunt and violent until the movie ends. There’s no actual ending, the movie just ends as the centimeter deep well of ideas is long past empty.

The Strangers was no different.

The interesting idea is what got you in the theater: a couple of people stuck in a house being assailed by masked assailants. That’s the movie. Not in a nutshell, that’s the whole thing. Certainly nothing new, but it’s plenty for some.

The depth of the characters comes from the fact that we learn that just prior to arriving at the secluded retreat belonging to James’ parents, Kristen declined his marriage proposal. The tear tracks on their cheeks tell us that both are upset by this development, but it didn’t deter either from going on a romantic little getaway to the isolated vacation home. Now I’m not sure about everyone else, but I think most guys who have failed in a marriage proposal would generally think she said no because of one of two things:  it’s too soon (i.e. I’m a desperate idiot that can’t tell love from lust) or she thinks there’s someone better (i.e. I’m an abject failure at life and will only find a partner in the same). The fact hat he’s not mad and she’s still wants to go with him, alone, to a house in the middle of nowhere doesn’t really fit with how I think most people would react to the situation. Do you want to marry me? Nope. Well, let’s go to my parents house and cry about it together. Okay. I’m not sure what kind of reaction that is, but it didn’t really make me give a damn about either of these two.

Just as James and Kristen are about to make up by playing hide the salami, the atmospheric scares start. Pounding on the doors. Loud music. People fading in and out of dark parts of the screen. Things breaking. Things going boom. Things going bang. Things going crash. It doesn’t stop until the credits roll.

Early on in the second act the ideas begin to run out and the movie becomes unable to differentiate itself from, dang, anything really. James and Kristen venture outside despite knowing the attackers are outside and further more are nowhere to be seen. That’s new. Kristen can’t help but knock everything off the wall while she’s looking in the barn for… something. I’ve never seen that before. Kristen hides in a closet thinking she’s outsmarted the interlopers. Ooh, interesting idea. A masked head pops out of the dark and loud music blasts. Scary! And new!

After all the ideas, and the ideas about how they could use other people’s ideas, have run out, the victims die and the psychopaths leave. But not before they could drop a line suggesting a sequel- “It’ll be easier next time.” Does that line refer to the killer’s future plans or the fact that the filmmakers now have a template from which they can derive movies even more devoid of originality? $81 million box office against a $9 million budget gives you the answer.

The Strangers is nothing new and everything old. You’d be better served rewatching Halloween. And dear god, do I have to tell you I mean the original?

Like the Aerosmith quote says, there’s something wrong with the world today. There is a continuous stream of movies assaulting (and insulting) our eyes. Movies with just enough depth to make an interesting trailer. These movies, they are called horror.

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In a growing age of overpaid and overworked cinema that seems to be angled exactly in the path of money, it is never a bad idea to walk outside and take a breath of fresh air. And essentially, with that, I have summed Kevin Macdonald’s State of Play.

If one decided to find a well paced, well worked plot, illogical twists, a good dose of action and a popular but unquestionably skilled cast in the past few years, he/she would be hard pressed to find anything to their liking, and instead offer a dose of the past — something in the realm of a “All the President’s Men” or similar.

Enter State of Play. Seemly designed to disprove my above theory, it factors in thrills that kept the entire theatre hunched forward in their seats, emotion that triggered a similar reaction, a plot that grips to even the most seasoned viewers. And, of course, it did slip forward like any movie to add in the required fields for today’s movie, a dab of sex appeal, some broken windows and one chase scene.

But it also went right back to the past as well, reminiscing on the previously mentioned All the President’s men. I noticed a similar garage scene as when Deepthroat met Woodward, and of course, the same press theme of inside the Washington Globe.

Few things could be changed about this movie, however, they are somewhat noticeable. A scene involving a subway killing could be implied more at the time, and the final plot twist, while still genius, had some minor flaws. But, I am essentially bickering as this was one of the best thrillers I have seen from the 21 century in a long time.

All in all, State of Play is a must see — it provides the viewers with a plot with healthy depth, action for everyone to enjoy, and very well executed suspense — even a great score.

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Since he doesn’t watch TV and hasn’t rented a movie in this millennium, he buys a lot of DVDs, especially the ones costing $5 dollars or less. If he doesn’t like the movie he’ll try to pawn it off on me, explaining why I own RPM and Dracula 2000, amongst many other forgettable movies. But if he does like the movie, he’ll forcibly loan it to me, whether I want to watch it or not.

One of the latest forced loans was The Cottage. Despite having a horror-centric cover on the DVD, it was purportedly a black comedy about a botched kidnapping and a neighbor with an axe. After letting it sit on the table for a week and having few other prospects at the time, I finally watched it.

David (Andy Serkis) and Peter (Reece Shearsmith) are constantly bickering brothers who’ve kidnapped Tracey, the daughter of David’s boss, who also happens to be the boss of the local mob. The plan is that David will use the ransom to move out of the house that he and Peter share, thereby making both men infinitely more happy. It sounds like a pretty lame reason to kidnap a mob boss’ daughter, but this may be one of the best ideas either man has ever had.

Things start to go bad once they realize their victim is a loudmouth full of contempt rather than fear. And then when Tracey’s idiot brother Andrew shows up with the ransom, turns out the bag is full of napkins instead of money. Andrew was in on the kidnapping, but he’s slow and he blabbed about the plot to his hairdresser.

Since there’s no phone in the cottage, David goes down to the local phone booth to try get the mob boss to wire the money and when he gets back he find Peter and Tracey gone. In the few minutes David was out, Tracey was able to use Peter’s crippling fear of moths to take him prisoner and make an escape. Now she’s leading him through the woods to the neighbor’s house.

And then things go from Fargo to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The tonal shift is pretty jarring and makes you wonder if you’re still watching the same movie. The sibling quibbling has been replaced with severed body parts and bodies hanging from hooks. Most of the comedy is gone as the movie turns into survival horror.

Serkis and Shearsmith make a pretty good duo, contrasting David’s brash over-self-confidence with Peter’s whiny momma’s boy, and Andrew the idiot is a decent foil. But the characters and much of the movie becomes forgettable once the horror goes into overdrive. Perhaps the movie would have been more cohesive and memorable if it didn’t seem like two halves of different movies smashed together.

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Zack and Miri, it’s about these two people named Zack and Miri. They’re like best friends and all, they’ve lived together since high school, but it’s like totally platonic. And these two, it’s a bit of a surprise, but they’re financially retarded. Despite both having regular jobs, they can’t seem to pay a single damn bill. Then Zack gets an inspired idea, they should totally make a porno. Miri, being the reasonable, responsible one, hems and haws a little before agreeing. And since they’re such great friends, they can screw without things getting all weird. But after screwing in front of a bunch of people, things do get all weird, and Zack and Miri eventually get all pissed at each other and Zack moves out, and things get all sad. Then they get back together and things are all happy.

The movie initially got an NC-17 rating, but Kevin Smith was able to whine it down to an R. It’s a pretty hard R, with all the femdom strapon sex, constipated pornstars taking taking dumps on guy’s faces, and plenty of hairy beanbags on display. I’ve never thought much of Smith as a filmmaker, his specialty is having characters say the most foul things he can get away with. I’m not sure what was up with it, but there were several scenes that ended quite abruptly, where a character would deliver their funny line and it would immediately cut to the next scene, so that joke never really had time to sink in. I wasn’t exactly cracking up, but that little quirk kind of undercut some of the impact of the dirty jokes.

My opinion is that Kevin Smith’s whole schtick has gotten really stale since Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. If your opinion differs, you’ll probably really get off on Zack and Miri.

Hard on the heels of Zack and Miri, I watched Hamlet 2. It’s about this teacher that puts on a ridiculous musical sequel to Hamlet, but since all the characters are dead, there’s time-traveling and Jesus. Now this movie, it was purportedly “dementedly funny” and “comedy heaven,” but it’s really just the same old thing you’ve seen before: a never-was with a lot of inspiration gets a class full of kids that could care less, those kids end up loving what they’re doing and they won’t let their teacher quit when he wants to give up. There’s the obligatory “how do I reach these kids” scene, the “he doesn’t realize his marriage has fallen apart” subplot, the “everyone is against this but they all understand after seeing it” ending, and Amy Poehler’s stock heartless bitch character.

Me, I found Hamlet 2 unfunny and tedious. After it was over, Mrs. Furious turned to me and asked, “why was that movie so bad?” I didn’t have a good response. It was what it was, much ado about nothing.

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After seeing The Crappening, I really wish I would have heeded those warnings. This has to be one of the worst movies I’ve seen by a director with as much talent as Shyamalan. It was bad bad bad. I’m not even sure where to begin.

The title The Happening sounds like a joke. Something so blunt and generic that you’d expect this to be the title of a parody, not an actual horror movie. Sure, it’s along the same lines as The Thing, but I don’t go around talking about the big happening at work today. On the other hand, I would tell someone about the thing I saw. Actually for me, The Happening invokes images about some party in the 60′s. Doesn’t it sound more like a movie about swingers partying than people committing suicide?

It’s no secret early on in The Crappening that the trees are the source of the suicide-inducing toxins. You can’t go five minutes without shots of the trees swishing around or the sound of wind swooshing through the leaves. And the science teacher (Mark Wahlberg) keeps saying that everything started in parks. Even though the “isn’t that weird?” is unspoken, it hangs in the air like a cloud of suicide-inducing poison more potent than deadly tree toxin.

Pseudo-, quasi-, absurd science has long been a staple of horror movies, but the whole idea of trees deciding they are fed up with humans ruining the environment and purposefully coordinating a systemic, strategic emission of a toxin that causes people to kill themselves is not what you’d expect from someone once hailed as the next Spielberg. It’s not even something you’d expect from someone once hailed as the next Renny Harlin. If it was the 50′s and these trees were mutated by radiation and turned into evil monsters, okay, it works. Trying to capture the same thing and keep it grounded in reality makes me want to go around and tell people tales of how I survived The Crappening. My sanity, it’s barely intact.

What this movie illustrates above all else is that Shyamalan needs strong actors to pull off his material. Mark Wahlberg, Zooey Deschanel, and John Leguizamo all looked like they had no idea what they were doing. The best way to describe each of their characters would be that they looked like what I expect Adam and Eve must have after they got evicted from Eden. Everything they do or say is some shade of innocence and naivety. They didn’t feel like people who live in the real world. If it wasn’t expressly said that Wahlberg and Deschanel’s characters were having relationship issues, you’d have a damn hard time figuring that out. But I don’t dislike any of the actors, it’s just that they don’t have the chops to overcome Shyamalan’s weak direction. The actors in previous Shyamalan movies (Bruce Willis, Toni Collette, Samuel L. Jackson, Mel Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix) can usually rise above a weak production. Wahlberg, Deschanel, and Leguizamo can’t.

Next time a movie is marked as being the first R-rated movie from [insert director], I’ll stay away. Next time a horror movie has a title that sounds like a hippie shindig, I’ll move along. Next time a movie is made by M. Night Shyamalan, I won’t see it. The Crappening should be a finable offense.

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What sets The Ruins apart from the other similarly plotted movies is that the evil entity is a malevolent, bloodthirsty plant, presumably giving it a timely ecological angle, but in reality the only ecological angle is that the evil plant is in fact part of the ecosystem. There’s no supposition that the plant was caused by careless pollution or environmental recklessness. In fact the impression is that the plant has been around a long time, so any parallels drawn to current causes of protecting the environment are baseless.

The story involves the aforementioned Americans (Jeff and Amy, Eric and Stacy) vacationing Cancun, Mexico. These Americans instantly befriend a German (who sports an ungodly, fake German accent) named Mathias and agree to venture off into the jungle with him and his Greek friend Dimitri in search of some Mayan ruins his brother visited but never returned from. I’m not sure about these kids, but my parents explicitly warned me about following random Europeans into Mexican jungles to find places not on any map from which other people have failed to return. It just usually leads to bad situations.

Once this ragtag, and still hungover, group gets to a town near their destination, they’re rebuffed by a cab driver who refuses to take them to the “bad place.” But money solves all problems and $40 changes his mind. The taxi drops the kids off out in the middle of nowhere (about 10 miles from the resort) and they soon discover the path to the ruins, deftly hidden under a couple branches. They notice a couple of the local Mayan kids watching them, but the kids, well their parents must have warned them about the stranger thing because they don’t respond to any questions.

Soon enough the multinational group finds the ruins- a vine-covered Mayan temple. A Mayan gentleman bursts from the jungle on horseback, yelling and waving his gun at them. More Mayans quickly show up armed with bows, arrows knocked. Our little group has no idea what’s going on, but when Dimitri approaches the Mayans, because you usually try to act aggressive toward people aiming weapons at you, he’s shot with an arrow before having the top of his head blown off. The rest of the group runs up to the top of the temple, with the Mayans content on holding their positions at the base. They soon realize the vines covering the temple are carnivorous, actively so, and that the Mayans are the guardians of the temple, ensuring that no one who goes there leaves alive to spread the terrible plant to the rest of the world.

Up until this point, the story is neither terrible nor remarkable. But from there on, the story becomes more ludicrous as each frame ticks by. Apparently in the thousands of years the Mayans have been guarding this temple, there were able to contain the vines by salting the ground around the temple. Good for them, they stopped the spread of the terrible plant. But I guess they felt fulfilled in heir duty at that point since they never tried to erect a wall, dig a trench, or even try a little Roundup.

It’s unclear if the Mayans ever tried to destroy the vines, but I’d say if you’ve surrounded by a bunch of vines you want removed, burning them might be a good way to go about it. The people trapped on top of the temple, in spite of making a fire and torches, never thought of burning the vines to, if not remove them, then at least thin their ranks. Maybe it works or maybe it pisses the vines off, but no, no one ever tries that.

And the Mayan guardians, it’s no wonder their civilization has all but vanished if this is the way they operate. They obviously understand the terrible nature of the vines and took measures to thwart their expansion, but then they have a couple kids running around as sentries to alert the adults after people arrive at the ruins. Then the Mayans sit around waiting for these people to succumb to either the vines or dehydration/starvation/exposure. The Mayans show no qualms about killing Dimitri or one of their own children after he’s struck by part of a plant pitched by Amy, but they’ll let the group of foreigners frolic around the temple, plotting an escape which could endanger the whole world, rather than quickly dispatch them and ensure there’s no escape.

These are only a couple of the things that could have logically taken place and nullified the whole story. I won’t even go into the handjob Stacy gives Erik (while in the tent with Jeff and Amy) after she falls into the temple and severely cut her leg while trying to rescue Mathias who broke his back after falling into the temple and is lying paralyzed just outside the tent, amputations deemed necessary by Jeff who knows all about blood and bone infections since he’s suddenly pre-Med, or further Mayan incompetence.

There are really a lot of questionable things that happened in the movie and it makes one wonder how this was written by the same author (Scott Smith) that wrote the critically lauded A Simple Plan.  Smith wrote both the books and both the screenplays. There are so many lapses in logic and generic elements in The Ruins that you’d assume some hack wrote it, not an Academy Award nominated writer.

I haven’t read the book, so I can’t give a comparison, but from what I gather, there are some oddities about the adaptation. The characters of Amy and Stacy basically have their names swapped in the movie, Amy taking on Stacy’s personality and vice-versa. Jeff is said to hail from Illinois in the movie, but they’re all from Massachusetts in the book. And many of the events happen the same way as in the book, just to different characters. It’s not a criticism, but you have to wonder why there were so many insignificant changes made in the adaptation when there were no characters that were eliminated or added, no real consequential events omitted or created. The changes seem pretty random and it’s not totally clear if there were any narrative motives behind them. You have to wonder if Smith was so consumed by trivialities that it had a tangible effect on the script, because, assuming the actors didn’t ad-lib everything, the problems with the movie are primarily script-related. It’s a generic story filled with generic characters that, frankly, should have been better given the pedigree of Scott Smith.

The Ruins isn’t an inherently bad movie, just crippled by its stupidity. It’s not that I wouldn’t recommend this movie to anyone, it’s that I can think of thousands ahead of it on the list. If you need to see a movie about a killer plant, see Little Shop of Horrors. Audrey II is a hell of a lot more interesting than these lameass vines.

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In Kung Fu Panda, Po (Jack Black) is charged with the task of discovering his own style of Kung Fu as he tries to fulfill his destiny as the Dragon Warrior, which he tackles with great enthusiasm. Vicious beatings by Shifu (Dustin Hoffman) and the Furious Five, all chagrined that they were not chosen to be the Dragon Warrior, cannot crush his spirit, and he’s cool with leaving behind his father’s dreams of taking over the family noodle business. His father, by the way, is a goose. How a goose can have a Panda for a kid is one of the movie’s great mysteries. It sounds only slightly more ridiculous than a Chihuahua/Great Dane mix.

Despite being marketed as a children’s movie and hitting all the notes associated with such movies, Kung Fu Panda’s quick pace and beautiful animation are enough to entertain anyone. The story focuses on the plot and characters, rather than going for silliness and pop culture references.

The fight set pieces are as engaging and exciting as any action movie. The fight choreography and settings put nearly all other animated action sequences to shame. Tai Lung’s escape from Chor Ghom Prison and the fight at the rope bridge are both stunners. Any action aficionado would quickly dismiss the shame of watching a kids movie after seeing either of those sequences.

Sure, it won’t go down as a classic and sure, it doesn’t have the depth of Pixar’s recent movies, but it’s as solid as you could ask a movie to be.

Image courtesy JOE WU via Flickr

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In the world of Gattaca, this isn’t only possible, it’s standard practice. Parents go down to the Eighth Day Center and order up the baby of their dreams. Concerned parents who worry that maybe something should be left to chance are reminded that this isn’t eugenics, it’s giving a child the best start possible- humans have enough inherent defects as it is.

Like everything started with the best intentions, there are unintended side-effects. Some parents just can’t get with the program and conceive their children the old-fashioned way- in the back seats of cars and such. As is the case in all births, these “faith births” or “god children” have their DNA screened immediately after birth and all possible defects are recorded, probabilities are calculated, and life expectancy is established. Although genetic discrimination has been outlawed, what company could resist the chance to screen a prospective employee before investing time and money into their training? What kid wouldn’t grow up with an impending sense of dread knowing they’re only supposed to live for 27.4 years?

The genetically inferior are relegated to a lower class of society and take on the menial tasks of the socially marginalized- janitorial work, refuse collection, really anything requiring little skill or specialization. They’re cogs in the machine that supports those above them.

But the one thing that can’t be genetically modified is that which lies within the human heart- will, desire, determination. For those “faith births” unwilling to accept their place in society, there is an option. No matter how perfect your DNA is crafted, no one can be made impervious to accidents. When the wheel of tragedy lands on one of the elite, the unscrupulous among them can enter a dark underworld where identities are sold. They enter into a contract to give their identity to a genetic inferior- known as a “borrowed ladder.” It’s a lot of work preparing blood, urine, and skin samples, resisting the temptations of alcohol and drugs, and living in hiding, but the reward is great- lots of money. Maybe enough to ease the pain of the circumstances that brought them to that point.

Upon assuming the identity, the life of a “borrowed ladder” becomes a constant effort to conceal their real identity and project their false one, while physically and mentally blending in with a sea of perfect people. Life becomes a paranoid struggle to maintain appearances and succeed to prove, at least to themselves, that a miniscule string of genetic material doesn’t define who they are.

There’s is no question that pre-screening for genetic defects can stave off a lot of pain and suffering, but where does that end? Choosing a child’s hair and eye color doesn’t seem like a big deal, but what about adding an extra finger on each hand? Are the parents creating their own perfect pianist? Is that a person with extra fingers or an automaton created for a sole purpose? Where do you draw the line beween enhancing and manipulating? Are advancements in biotechnology the path to enlightenment or a death march for the human spirit?

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Unfortunately, horror fans picked the wrong horse to ride to the genre revival party. It’s not that Meat Train is awful, it’s just that it’s pretty bad. It’s probably gotten more notoriety from the small ‘Save the Movie’ campaigns than it would have were it unleashed on the general movie going public. The story about a photographer (Bradley Cooper) who follows a butcher (Vinnie Jones) who happens to murder and butcher his fellow subway passengers has a serious been-there-done-that feel, from the art dealer with a desire for the macabre to the rapid, unexpected epic ending.

Jones does cut an imposing figure as the butcher, but it’s pretty laughable when the much less imposing Cooper is able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat, especially after seeing Jones use his mallet to both decapitate a woman and hit a man so hard that his eye bursts from it’s socket. Splatter movie fans will no doubt enjoy the early blood-drenched scenes, but there was so much obviously fake CGI blood and gore that it had the look of a made-for-cable movie, which I guess is appropriate since it hit FearNet On Demand soon after it’s minuscule theatrical run.

The movie itself didn’t scare or disgust or disturb me, but the introduction by Clive Barker, that’s another story. He totally creeped me out. Barker looked a little sickly and had this odd pattern to his speech, like the words were dripping out of his mouth. He was earnest in what he said about the movie, but the matter-of-fact way he says the movie will change you was unsettling. The only time my pulse raised once the movie started was when Barker popped back up for an intermission. If the movie had been him reading his short story, I might proclaim it the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.

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