GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #701: THE NOT-SEE PARTY

 Ever see Tusk? A lot of people hate it, but I fucking loved it. I love a lot of Kevin Smith's more unusual movies. I even loved Yoga Hosers. What, I hear you ask, about Jersey Girl? Eh, let's not get too crazy. Besides, I said "unusual."

(Stop before you bring up Cop Out. See previous answer.)

Anyway, in Tusk, Justin Long and Haley Joel Osment play podcasters, and their show is the Not-See Party Podcast. Which, naturally, gets Long in trouble when he tries to get into Canada. "What do you mean, the Nazi Party?" Guess it's not so funny now, eh?

When I first started taking calls at my job, I had to find my voice, my script, my style. When someone calls in wanting their windshield repaired over replaced, I have to qualify them. Depending on whether it's a chip or a crack, I would ask them, "Would you be able to put a quarter/credit card over it and not see the damage?"

I didn't really think about it until I realized how it sounded to others, and then I wondered how the hell no one ever stepped in and said, hey, don't ask the question that way.

I finally figured it out. Now I ask, "Would you be able to put a quarter/credit card over it and not be able to see the damage?" It sounds a lot better and not very likely to get me into trouble. Holy fuck, what if someone thought I was speaking in code? "The way he said 'not see' implies that this company is a safe place for Nazis." Kind of like the Klan used to speak in code to assure each other that they were in like-minded company.

Honestly it still feels weird when I say it, but that's only because I know how I got to that place and why. Just thought it was a strange thing that a lot of people don't really think about otherwise. Your mileage may vary.

THE JOHN BRUNI MUSEUM OF MEDIOCRE (AT BEST) SHIT #18: REVIEW OF JAY AND SILENT BOB #4

[What have we here? Another award-winning piece? Somehow I won an honorable mention at that State of Illinois competition sponsored by the Chicago Tribune. I should mention that I had no idea I was nominated for this or for my previous Local Haunts piece. I just showed up to the weekly meeting at the Leader, and my professor thrust my two awards into my unsuspecting hands. I believe I got the honorable mention because I was the only comic book reviewer in the state. They didn’t know what they were looking at, so they threw an honorable mention at me. Anyway, in this review I claim that Kevin Smith doesn’t know his own characters well enough. Oof. Talk about eating my own foot. I didn’t understand his intentions with this comic book. I think I was expecting to see Jay and Silent Bob the way they were in Clerks, when they were just a couple of slackers/drug dealers hanging out in front of a convenience store, rather than the cartoons they became throughout the course of the View Askewniverse (especially when they were made into actual cartoons for a season of that one show). Fuck it. This is from the Elmhurst College Leader November 8, 1999.]

After months and months and months of waiting for the last issue (a nearly legendary delay, even by independent comics’ standards), Jay and Silent Bob #4 finally hit the comic book shops. Unfortunately, it’s not worth the wait.

Artist Duncan Fregredo isn’t the greatest artist in the world. He’s not bad, either, but there are a lot of times when he lapses into a really bad Warren Pleece imitation. He has his good moments, and Jay and Silent Bob really do look like Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith (unlike the renditions in the Clerks comics).

Writer Kevin Smith, made famous through writing and directing Clerks, Mallrats, and Chasing Amy, has decided to give his true fans a treat with the Jay and Silent Bob miniseries. It’s supposed to happen during Chasing Amy through to the beginning of Smith’s new movie, Dogma. However, while it possesses the spirit of the movies, Jay and Silent Bob themselves aren’t consistent with the Jay and Silent Bob of the movies. Granted, they are Smith’s creations, but apparently he doesn’t know them well enough.

While Silent Bob still doesn’t talk at all (he doesn’t even have his one cryptic statement in the end, as per usual with Smith’s movies), and Jay talks too much, they are noticeably less intelligent. Even Silent Bob, who is significantly smarter than Jay, appears to have a moronic streak through him.

The whole point of this miniseries is to follow Jay and Silent Bob as they travel from their home, New Jersey, to Shermer, Illinois. Why are they headed to Shermer? Because that’s where John Hughes set his brat pack comedies, among them The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. They want to be the drug connection for Shermer because they probably don’t have one, and if they have troubles with the locals, they’re a bunch of pansies anyway. At least, that’s their reasoning (the only one who escapes this is Judd Nelson, who they think is tough). Never mind that Shermer, as well as Hughes’s characters, are fictional, they believe that it’s all real. Not even Jay, who can be pretty stupid, would think something like that.

Not that all the writing is bad. There’s the time when Jay and Silent Bob went to see an ‘Eighties speed metal band, Forked Tongue. That’s vintage Jay and Silent Bob material. They’re the only two in the audience, and they’re still dancing like crazy (or at least Jay is).

There’s also the point when Smith confronts the fact that yes, Jay and Silent Bob have indeed become icons of America’s youth. The two of them having made it to Shermer (which is really McHenry) are decked out in red, white, and blue Uncle Sam outfits (except the comic’s in black and white), Jay says, “We’re living, breathing icons of the American Dream, Silent Bob!!! True paradigms of the greatness of the United States of America!!!” He follows this up with a loud fart that causes Silent Bob to buy air freshener and spray Jay with it. “What, man?” Jay asks. “Americans fart!” It’s pure Jay and Silent Bob.

If you’re a die-hard Smith fan, you’d better read these comics. They’re apparently an important bridge to the next movie. The “action” will be continued in the theaters, starting Nov. 12, in the movie, Dogma.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #80: RESERVED SEATING

Whenever I go to see a movie in the theater, I like to go to a matinee at the York in Elmhurst. It's cheap, and it's close to home. The only problem is, it sometimes doesn't get the movies that I really want to see, like TUSK or THE DROP. In those cases, I tend to head off to the Marcus theater in Addison, because I can't stand the super-expensive AMC in Yorktown, and those are my only other options.


I hadn't gone to the Marcus in a while, but this month I've gone out there twice, and they had a mighty unusual change recently: apparently, they don't have regular seating anymore. They have reserved seating, and all the chairs are wide recliners.


At first, I hated it. It seemed silly to want reserved seats for a movie, and who needs recliners? Are they trying to get me to fall asleep at the show? More so, I'm shocked that Hollywood is OK with this, considering how this cuts down on a theater's capacity to hold people. How would something like this work out for the opening night of, say, the new STAR WARS movie, when it comes out? They can only fit maybe fifty people in there, whereas before they could fit a lot more. It doesn't make much sense.


When I saw TUSK, I didn't like the seating arrangement. But when I saw THE DROP, I kind of didn't mind it. I'm a fat guy, but I'm not a whale. I can fit comfortably in a regular theater seat. (I'd say I can fit comfortably in a seat on a plane, but I'm also a tall guy, so I don't have the leg room to make me comfortable.) The new theater recliners were pretty wide. Plus every pairing has an armrest that comes up, so if I brought a lady friend, we could act like we were on a couch instead of at a movie theater.


It was kind of nice to put my feet up. And put my arms behind my head. And maybe roll around a bit if one of my ass cheeks starts getting numb.


All right, I like it now. I'm cool with it. It won't make me go out to Addison every time I want to see a movie, but if I had to make the trek, that's fine.


One more thing: both shows I went to the Marcus for had almost no audience. I found that pretty bothersome. Both times, there were me and two other people. Yes, they were matinees, but attendance shouldn't be THAT bad. TUSK is a Kevin Smith movie, and Smith has a rabid following. There should have been more people in the audience. THE DROP is based on a Dennis Lehane novel, and his books are adapted by the likes of Clint Eastwood and Martin Scorsese, and they contain major star power. This one has Tom Hardy, who is probably the greatest new actor we have, in addition to the final performance of Tony Soprano himself, the late James Gandolfini. There is no possible way that such a film would have an audience of three, even at a matinee.


That's disappointing. I know that movies on the big screen are a fading part of the experience of being a human being, and it will be a shame when that's gone. There is a certain excitement that comes with the ritual of buying a ticket, getting popcorn, and experiencing a movie with an enormous crowd of people. I remember when I saw SE7EN in the theaters, and I heard people responding--with genuine shock--to the scene with the Sloth victim.


There is no replicating that experience.

COOL SHIT 11-17-11

THE STAND: THE NIGHT HAS COME #4: Holy shit. I didn’t think they’d get to this point so fast. Larry, Glen, and Ralph have gotten to Las Vegas, and Randall Flagg is ready to publicly execute them in one of my favorite literary scenes of all time. Artist Mike Perkins nails it. The man is fucking amazing. When the Trashcan Man arrives with the a-bomb, the Hand of God looks far more awesome than the cheesy piece of shit in the movie. The look of tired resignation on Flagg’s face when he realizes how fucked he is is priceless. And the look on Larry’s face in the last moments of his life is just . . . wow. See it to believe it.

THE BIONIC MAN #4: I’ve never cared much for the Bionic Man. I wouldn’t even be reading it if not for Kevin Smith’s involvement. However, I find myself enjoying this book more and more with each issue. The story the doctor tells about the dog in this issue is just amazing. But the truly interesting thing is how they change Steve Austin. The science of rebuilding him is disclosed here, and it’s impressive. This Bionic Man can do a lot more than the original from the ‘Seventies.

THE WALKING DEAD #91: Wow. The one thing I did not expect was Rick to reject Andrea’s advances. I think they’d be perfect for each other, but it seems that Rick has noticed that his love interests tend to have short life spans. He thinks he’s saving Andrea’s life by not fucking her. Odd, but I can see it. In the meantime, I think Eric is awesome. Him and a bunch of others go out to forage for supplies, and what does he do? He grabs a bottle of 20 year old Scotch and keeps his mouth shut about it so he can share it with his boyfriend. How cool is that?

BUTCHER, BAKER, CANDLESTICKMAKER #5: I swear, I’m not just mentioning this book to keep my Ennis streak going. This is the issue where we find out how Mallory recruited Butcher into the Boys. How could I not mention something so important? But even more so, this is the issue where Butcher reads his wife’s diary and finds out why she died: the Homelander raped her. And since Ennis is a capable storyteller (and a gentleman to boot), he doesn’t go into the lurid details. She can’t bring herself to write about the actual act itself, but the psychological results are . . . horrifying. Cool shit, indeed.

COOL SHIT 10-20-11

SUPERIOR #6: Remember how I said in last week’s review of SUPERIOR #5 how Millar has an actual heart? It has never shown through more than in this issue. As young Simon finds himself back to the way he was, he is given a day to decide whether or not to sell his soul. You see, Ormon is desperate for his soul. If he doesn’t get it, he’s going to be dismissed to the deepest depths of Hell. Now that Simon finds himself realizing how much love he has in the world, even though he’s not really Superior, Ormon feels the need to hedge his bets. Read it to see for yourself.

THE BIONIC MAN #3: At first I was skeptical of this one. Do we really have to keep bringing shit back from the dead? In all honesty, I don’t even care about Steve Austin. But . . . well, Kevin Smith wrote it, so of course I’m going to give it a try. Sure enough, just like with GREEN HORNET, too much of Smith’s style shines through. But at the same time, he knows when to back off and let the story tell itself. I’m sure a lot of old time fans would feel their stomachs churn when they see all that remains of Austin’s body after his awful plane crash. And of course he doesn’t want to be rebuilt. He just wants to die. Smith brings a lot of common sense to a larger than life story.

HELLBLAZER #284: How can things get even more fucked up in John Constantine’s life? His control over magic continues to spiral out of control while his purloined trenchcoat gets into a bit of trouble on its own. Any long time reader of this series will feel absolute horror at the final page of this issue. After all this time on Constantine’s shoulders, is the trenchcoat really going up in smoke?

BUTCHER, BAKER, CANDLESTICKMAKER #4: How much you wanna’ bet I’m not going to mention Garth Ennis next week? Never mind. Anyway, once again, we get a rare glimpse of Butcher in love. It truly is a sight to behold, especially for those of us who are used to him being a hard bastard. But even more shocking is the end of this issue. We heard about what happened when the Homelander raped Butcher’s wife and she gave birth to his unnatural child. Now we actually get to see what happened. I want to tell you all about it so bad, but . . . fuck it. I can’t. It’ll ruin the book for you. Needless to say, it is one of the craziest scenes ever put to the page. If you don’t read this book, you’re fucking nuts. Or you have a soul. Whatever.