Living Your Best Life - Anvil Style

Last class, we discussed the movie Big Fan, in which a little round parking attendant lived a life of, not quiet desperation at all, but one of happy football fanhood.

Today, we will be discussing the Little Canadian Band that Couldn't Quite, chronicled in the documentary, Anvil! The Story of Anvil. The heart of Anvil is the duo of Steve "Lips" Kudlow and Robb Reiner, two nice Jewish boys from Canada who once got a taste of glory in Japan while playing to a packed crowd along with bands like Anthrax, Metallica and Slayer.

That was in the 80s. Since then, they have gone, kicking and screaming, into obscurity, now working menial jobs to support their families. The documentary follows them as they mount their umpteenth comeback attempt.

Reviewers luuuurrved this doc, calling it "touching, uplifting and inspirational." I respectfully disagree. I found it touching, sure, but in a sad way. These guys are now in their 50s, and they look every hard-living year. They do not exactly have heads for business. We hear the music they are recording for their big comeback, and it is unlistenable. Where is the hope in this scenario? It was more like watching the first few episodes of a season of American Idol, where the audience revels in watching hopefuls who have invested all their ego in a career that all logic tells them they have no business pursuing. I found it more voyeuristic than inspirational.

How would you rather live your life? As a parking attendant who lives with his mom and feels lucky that he gets to watch football and call in to a sports talk radio station? Or a school lunchroom worker who feels like Providence made a big mistake in denying him a life of rock stardom?

Infected - The Movie

I have an infection that I'm trying to clear holistically by drinking copious amounts of water and cranberry juice. I'm doing this not because I believe wholeheartedly in the shunning of western medicine over the gentler, less chemical superiority of alternative wellnessness, but simply because it's the weekend and I would prefer to stay clear of the Urgent Care Sputum Cesspool.

I'm not sure whether the sores in the back of my palate are due to the infection, possible water-induced hyponatremia, or possible fever-induced eating of too-hot jambalaya (I swear it wasn't hot to me, but Drew, the fire breathing oven mitt non-user, had to let it cool), but whatever the cause, they are a constant source of annoyance today. I can't seem to ignore the bumpy surface, and it's too far back on my palate for my tongue to do a thorough investigation, so I am constantly noodling around with my tongue to no avail.

Since I can't stray far from the bathroom in order to send all that cleansing water out the other end (I'm making up in toilet paper usage what I am saving in Urgent Care visit copay expenses), I am spending a lot of time folding laundry (unrelated but necessary), watching Netflix instant movies, and eating things that will momentarily mask the palate-scab feeling.

Speaking of movies, here are some that I have watched on Netflix recently and my ratings (Netflix rates movies on a five-star system):

The Real Dirt on Farmer John

I gave this one four stars, which may be a little generous, but I really enjoyed this story of a farmer's son, one part salt-of-the-earth farmer and one part bohemian drama school butterfly, who lost his father while still in his teens, and yet tried to keep the family farm going through his college years, his hippy years, the gobbling up of family farms by corporate interests in the 80's, and his own broadway style wanderlust. I had been wanting to get around to seeing this since it was released in 2006 and I'm glad it finally made it to the top of my queue.

Harvard Beats Yale 29-29

This is about a football game played in 1968. It seems to be a legend at Harvard and Yale that leaves hard feelings to this day. Very well-made documentary using film of the game and interviews from the players on both teams. Four stars.

Reefer Madness (with Rifftrax)

I thought this 1938 antimarijuana propaganda movie would be a prime target for Rifftrax, the audio auxiliary of snark from the cast of MST3K that can be added to lots of new and old movies to make them much more hilariouser, and it is, but never having seen the movie before, I was a little stunned by the bizarreness of the movie itself. One of those movies so odd, they really take no effort to poke further fun at. The movie itself left me shaking my head. That's just nuts. Three Stars.

Rescue Dawn

Werner Herzog's dramatization of the story of Dieter Dengler, Vietnam War POW who escaped to freedom through the Viet Cong and leech-infested jungle. Drew liked it. I enjoyed it even more, having previously watched Herzog's documentary about Dengler, entitled Little Dieter Needs To Fly. Also recommended. Four stars.

Hellboy II

Fell asleep. Even though I rather enjoyed the first Hellboy (I stayed awake), this one did not capture my interest in the least. (What? A magical elf kingdom? An evil pixie world? Are they trolls? Bat people? Zzzzzzz....) Drew liked it. One star for me, three for Drew.

Night of the Living Dead (with Rifftrax)

I like this movie. I like that it had a black hero in 1968, I like that Romero knows a thing or two about suspense, I even like that he doesn't spare anyone for the sake of a happy ending (Oops - did I say spoiler alert? Ah, hell, it was made in 1968. If you haven't seen it by now, it's your own damn fault.) Seriously, that ending gets me every time. I DON'T like how the women are all hysterical screaming fools who must be dragged away from danger by their dainty wrists. Okay, I know, 1968. Still. They got the race thing right. Deep breath. If you have already seen it, it's worth seeing again in the Rifftrax version (yes, the Rifftrax is integrated into this DVD, instead of being a separate audio file that you must sync up. Nice.) Four stars.

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Oh, my God. Awful. One star.

Happy-Go-Lucky

Yeah, she's happy-go-lucky and all, we get it, but a movie still requires a plot. Two stars.

$3 Movie Review: Dark Knight

The only things that pierced the veil of dark doom of this film were the many, many, many explosions.

The scariest moment was when a spider crawled onto my neck during hour - oh, say hour 17.

I'm exhausted from trying to get comfortable in the theater seat during the 20 - or was it 32 - hours of the Dark Knight while protecting my neck from the remainders of the spider family.

Drew liked it.  

So, reviewers: thumbs up.  Drew:  thumbs up.  Me:  whatever.  There were fewer groaningly corny lines in Incredible Hulk.  Give me Michael Keaton practicing how to say "I'm Batman" while planning to spring the news on Vicki Vale. More comics, less grisly deathics.

I'm going to go dream of ice cream and butterflies.

Three Dollar Movie Review: 3:10 to Yuma

My problem with movies like this is I forget not to think.

This story revolves around a hair-brained scheme to escort Russell Crowe, obviously the West's Most Dangerous and Slippery Prisoner, via horse-back, very slowly, including nights of camping against picturesque rocks, through Indian- and Gang-infested territory. In spite of the fact that they had two dozen very lawful and self-defensible reasons to kill him along the way.

Our comments during the movie went something like this:

"Kill him!"

"Kill him now!"

"How about now?"

"Did I miss the part in the movie where they explained how their bullets have a defect that makes them shoot backwards when used against stagecoach robbers?"

On the plus side, the director managed to fit in several unlikely explosions, which help to soothe masculine souls and allow them to forgive ridiculous plots. Two I especially liked for their fishiness: a stagecoach-based man shoots a riding man's saddle-mounted gunpowder pouch, causing both him and his horsey to kaboom; and later a man, whilst fleeing on horseback, tosses a bundle of dynamite into the air and his horseback-fleeing buddy shoots the dynamite, thus causing it to kaboom.

There are so few plausible reasons to fit explosions into westerns. I'm glad these guys went the extra mile to find perfectly reasonable explosion opportunities.

Well done, lads.

My judgment: three Junior Mints boxes out of five.

Your $3 Movie Review: Casino Royale

I'm just going to assume that you know the rules going in, you know, when watching any Bond movie:

1. Check your logic at the door.


2. It's cool, and quite manly, to point guns at people.


3. Bond can withstand beatings that would kill a crash test dummy.


4. Slightly witty things sound fabulous when spoken with the right accent.

Now to this Casino Royale attempt:

Daniel Craig: Yes and no. Yes, I like the buffitude. Yes, it's quite British to poo-poo the weight room in favor of extra rolls in the hay (and in the middle), but the muscles add some much-needed eye candy.

ESPECIALLY if you have to worry about the next stiff breeze driving away the last of your Bond's hairline. Come on, there must be some hairy guys in the British Isles somewhere. The Bruce Willis/Kevin Costner hair now/gone tomorrow look is less than ideal.

Second, and a huge Craig-as-Bond issue: Drew thought Daniel Craig was giving us the Blue Steel look all night, but I realized that it is not an acting thing, it's a physical defect that is difficult to overlook: his upper lip is too long, which gives him an endless pout.

How did they overlook this? That's a deal killer in my book.

I know. How superficial of me. But hey, this is a Bond flick. That's all there is.

And how old is Daniel Craig? The plot is based on this being Bond's first outing as an MI6, but he doesn't look any younger than any of the Bonds that have gone before him. It's confusing.

The rest:

OMG, who did the make-up for Vesper, the Bond girl? Hey, if you want her to have bigger lips, you can't just color outside the lines. It just looks like a chimp put her lipstick on.

Poor Judi Dench had the job of trying to stitch up the miles of action scenes into a coherent plot. She should get some kind of an Oscar for that.

Bottom line: A good time was had by all (except maybe the couple behind us who were forced to listen to our snarky comments). Sorry.

A Three-Dollar Movie Review: The World's Most Annoying Kiwi

I don’t go to first-run movies. Exceptions made only for special birthday requests and Johnny Dep.

It’s not the price. It’s the packaging. The seats are uncomfortable. There’s always (a) someone seven feet eight with a cowboy hat sitting in front of me, (b) someone smelly, creepy, or too large for their own seat next to me, (c) a couple of teenage girls using their $10 tickets to talk really loudly about how they hate Jessica/Jeremy/Josiah/Joshua/other popular J-sounding, biblical (although their parents weren’t really sure because they never actually read the Bible) name, (d) an unsupervised ten-year-old boy kicking the back of my seat, or (e) a crying baby screaming in my good ear (actually, both are pretty nice).

I wouldn’t go to movies at all if it weren’t for two McMenamins brothers’ theaters nearby that have lots of room, 21-and-up-only crowds, and booze. The movies cost three bucks because they are second-run, but they make up the difference by selling burgers, salads and their own micro-brews and wines. For those of you outside of the Portland metro area and certain points east south and north, Portlanders pretty much love and bless the McMenamins for their tendency to take run-down, forgotten buildings and make them into warm, quirky places to drink some tasty beer and wine.

Now, back to my belated review of The World’s Fastest Indian (handy for you DVD renters who have forgotten the first-run reviews by now).

This movie is based on the true story of a New Zealander named (if I remember correctly) Burt Munroe who took an old Indian motorcycle and remade it into a racing bike with bits of cork, kitchen door hinges, and shoe polish, and tried to make his dream of racing it on the famous Bonneville Salt Flats come true.

Will the plucky New Zealander, played by plucky Englishman Anthony Hopkins, make it to the famous Bonneville Salt Flats racing thingy before he kicks the bucket? Will the neighbors kill him (no court in the land would convict them) before he gets enough Kiwi-bucks together to make the trip and/or kick the bucket? Will the Powers That Be bend the rules to allow him to enter the racing thingy before he kicks the bucket? Will the ride itself make him kick the bucket? You’ll just have to wait and see. Lots of nitroglycerin tablets are munched. Lots of ladies-of-a-certain-age are serviced. Lots of Americans shake their heads in puzzlement at the feisty old feller.

I found him obnoxious and clueless. However, I am guessing from the facts of the case, that the original Burt Munroe probably wasn't that obnoxious or he would not have gained so many friends and comrades along his journey. I think the blame has to go to Anthony Hopkins. I’ve never met a Kiwi who wasn’t charming in his own way. Hopkins does not play Munroe with the least bit of Kiwi charm. And isn’t it a little odd, seeing an Englishmen playing a Kiwi calling Englishmen “poms” (the opposite of a term of respect in Kiwi-speak)? Hopkins might be able to sound like a Kiwi, but I don’t think he knows how to act like one.

The motorcycle, however, was brilliant.