ldavis-2 Reviews

Gopher Broke (1958)

Possibly the Most Sadistic Mainstream Cartoon Short Ever Made

[1/10 · 19 July 2023]

Seeing this for the first time last night has not only changed my opinion of the formerly lovable Mac and Tosh but the "creatives" behind this "cartoon". Our "heroes" drive a dog to a total psychotic breakdown just so that they can get their grubby hands on "their" "stolen" vegetables. There was a myriad of better ways for Mac and Tosh to get their grubby hands on "their" "stolen" vegetables without channeling their inner Marquis de Sade. It ends with the poor pooch, his psyche shattered, literally flying away and his pig friend at a psychiatrist's office trying to deal ("When pigs fly". Get it?), only for the shrink to shove the pig over on the couch after seeing the poor pooch in the air. Only chuckle is the "creatives" trolling Sigmund Freud when the dog reads a book by "Sigmund Fraud". Seriously, who greenlit this? Disgusting.

Wonder Woman 1984 (2020)

Lame!

[2/10 · 1 November 2022]

I found myself watching "Wonder Woman 1984" on TV the other night when my mother walked in. After I told her the title, she asked "Didn't (Steve) die in ('Wonder Woman')"? I said yes. Then she said, very confused: "How did he come back?" I explained that Diana discovers a legendary crystal which grants wishes and she wished for Steve to return, and he assumes another man's body. As I was saying this, not only did I realize how utterly lame this was, I could hear the Barbara character yelling: "LAME!" inside my head!

It starts with child Diana participating in some bizarro cross between American Ninja Warrior and the Grand National. She's supposed to learn some bizarro lesson about truth after her He-Man aunt stops her from winning because it turns out that Child Diana isn't half as clever as she thinks she is. Flash forward to 1984 Washington D. C., and Adult Diana works at the Smithsonian. Her boss is Oprah Winfrey's twin from 1986, who has just hired someone whose existence she barely acknowledges. This someone is the aforementioned Barbara, Michelle Pfeiffer's "Batman Returns" stand-in in a past life. Diana and Barbara meet-cute when Diana helps gather the papers Barbara dropped on the floor as the "gentlemen" around them confirm that chivalry is officially dead. A few days later at lunch, she tells Barbara: "You make me laugh". Now, I'm thinking: THIS is getting interesting. But, alas, just when you think Di and Babs are about to give "Girl Power" a whole new meaning, Patty Jenkins (who co-wrote and directed this dumpster fire) shoehorns in the aforementioned Steve Trevor and snake oil salesman Max Lord, who seems to be on TV 24/7. One of those Fake-It-Til-You-Make-It types, Snake Oil Salesman tries to convince his investor and Jack Palance's stand-in in a past life to keep throwing good money after bad, then Oprah Winfrey's Twin From 1986 gives him a VIP tour of the Smithsonian. In no time, Mad Max zeroes in on the hapless Barbara, swipes the aforementioned crystal from literally behind her back, then proceeds to give "Power Trip" a whole new meaning.

That isn't even the stupidest part of this dumpster fire (and DO NOT get me started on Diana Does the Shopping Mall bit). Our lovebirds swipe a Panavia Tornado, which magically switches from its inline seating configuration to a side-by-side seating configuration the moment they hop in, and - extra added bonus! - it's fully fueled! On what planet does THAT happen?! Even-more ridiculous is how Steve makes like Tom Cruise while Diana makes like David Copperfield. Did I mention that they jet off to Cairo without managing to get shot down upon entering French, German, Italian, Greek, or Egyptian airspace (and, no, the David Copperfield routine would not have prevented the Panavia from being detected by radar)? Did I also mention that Diana isn't sacked by Oprah Winfrey's Twin From 1986 for this little stunt upon her return?

It all goes downhill from there, complete with gratuitous Arab-Children-Playing-in-the-Middle-of-the-Road-in-the-Middle-of-Nowhere-Must-be-Saved-from-the-Convoy-of-Tanks-and-Manned-Machine-Guns-Protecting-Crazy-White-American-Out-to-Hijack-the-World's-Oil-Supply. Rapidly losing her powers because she was silly enough to wish for Tom Cruise to return, Diana dons the armor of the Amazons' greatest warrior Asteria (who was actually the Greek goddess of nocturnal oracles and shooting stars, but I digress) and has it out with Barbara, now sporting a cheetah suit (don't ask) after their previous meet-cute at The White House (don't ask) as Mad Max goofs before a camera in a top-secret government installation (don't ask) and hands out wishes like candy.

And because no one was clamoring for it, a third Wonder Woman movie is now in the works. I honestly don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Blonde (2022)

Blonde Bombshelled

[2/10 · 8 October 2022]

It probably goes without saying but had Marilyn Monroe lived the long life as contemporaries Elizabeth Taylor, Joanne Woodward, Shirley MacLaine, and Sophia Loren, she wouldn't have become a multi-gazillion dollar industry. As some wag noted upon learning that the 42-year-old Elvis had swiveled his pelvis for the last time: "Good career move". Indeed, while she was fêted as a legend in her own lifetime, her probable suicide at age 36 made her immortal. And while fanboys and fangirls speculate on what might have been, can you seriously imagine a 50-or-60-or-70-something Marilyn peddling perfume or hawking her actor hubby's salad dressings or rebranding herself a New Age Guru or playing herself AND her mother in a TV mini-series? Me neither. But at least she wouldn't have been the subject of the countless garbage offerings humanity has been bludgeoned with since her death 60 years ago.

As I mulled over this latest garbage offering - garbage "auteur" Andrew Dominik's garbage take on garbage "wordsmith" Joyce Carol Oates's garbage novel "Blonde" - I came across his 2016 garbage draft of this garbage offering; it can be found under External Sites. As I noted in my take of garbage network CBS's 2001 garbage take of "Blonde": "There's nothing positive in this image of Monroe. It's disheartening that über-feminist Oates re-imagines her as The Dumbest Wh*re in Christendom". Oates published "Blonde" after Joe DiMaggio died, but while Arthur Miller and Marilyn's first husband James Dougherty were still alive. In Dominik's artsy-fartsy impersonation of von Trier impersonating Lynch, Dougherty is ignored (for which his family must be eternally grateful, I'm sure) as The Dumbest Wh*re in Christendom is violated over and over, figuratively and literally, by virtually every man she is unfortunate enough to cross paths with. Even when she is given agency by hooking up with "Cass" and "Eddy", the ne'er-do-well brats of Charlie Chaplin and Edward G. Robinson, respectively, she is put through the ringer. Why Dominik didn't just go all-out, and have Marilyn flogged and crucified in a vulgar send-up of "The Passion of the Christ" is beyond me.

Two things in this garbage offering have the "Me Too" and "Pro-Choice" mobs breaking out the pitchforks: Marilyn saying "Daddy" like a broken record; and having a conversation with her unborn child. This will cheese the Man Haters off to no end, but the "Daddy" is one of the few things this garbage offering actually got right: Miller recalled in his autobiography a then-overwhelmed Marilyn calling him "Papa" as she phoned him while making "Bus Stop"; a letter she wrote to DiMaggio in 1954 and sold by Hunt's Auctions in 2006 begins "My Dad", and in a note to him also sold by Hunt's, she refers to herself as "your baby". Speaking of, the "baby convo" is a hoot: "2001: A Space Odyssey" on crack. By the way, no woman gardens in a summer dress. And even the most amateur of Green Thumb Warriors know to wear gloves before doing battle with those pesky weeds. Upshot is, the real Marilyn was a Green Thumb Warrior who wouldn't have been caught dead doing battle with pesky weeds while wearing a summer dress and no gloves. And this Marilyn has an abortion (complete with "fetus-cam"!), so I honestly don't understand what the NARAL Nuts are whining about. But I digress.

This Marilyn isn't the only one put through the ringer. So is virtually everyone in her real-life orbit, beginning with Mother. In stark contrast to Patricia Richardson's Gladys in the 2001 "Blonde", Julianne Nicholson's Gladys is a wackadoodle with homicidal tendencies. Adrien Brody has been slouching his way toward Miller (pardon, "The Playwright") since "King Kong", and I had pegged Bobby Cannavale as DiMaggio (pardon, "The Ex-Athlete") since "The Station Agent". Here, Cannavale is King Kong and Brody is a standard-issue passive-aggressive snob. The toilet bowls Marilyn pukes her guts out into have more regard for her than "DiMaggio" and "Miller" do.

Which leads me to the most-infamous scene in this garbage offering. John F. Kennedy was assassinated when I was almost 6 months old, so I've never had the reverence for him those who lived through "Camelot" have. And he always struck me as cartoonish: sunk-in beady eyes, plastic hair, square teeth, nasally voice which refused to enunciate words correctly (before you go there, I'm from Massachusetts). The torrid tales of "Camelot" which have dropped since JFK dropped confirm he was the worst sort of garbage human. And I'm surprised that no one else caught onto this, but this JFK is the stand-in for Dominik. How else to explain the perverted delight he takes in Marilyn being manhandled throughout his opus, yet never more so than when two Secret Service goons dump her strung-out self in the Presidential Suite to be manhandled by The Prez like an animated sex doll.

Ana de Armas's Marilyn talks like Zoolander with a Cuban accent while alternately mumbling like Brando and screaming like a banshee. Yet, as microbes on Mars know by now, in a "performance" which degrades both her subject and herself, she has scored a BAFTA, a Golden Globe, a Screen Actors Guild Award, AND an Oscar nomination! "¡Felicidades!" to her management.

The End is near, my friends.

Julia (I) (2021)

Saint Julia and her Magic Rolling Pin!

[3/10 · 1 June 2022]

The makers of this "Girl Power" stomach bomb would have you believe that no harried housewife in human history had ever made a meal from scratch until Julia Child burst into living rooms across America on July 26, 1962 to save humanity from the horror of Swanson frozen TV dinners; I had to look up the date because the makers of this "Girl Power" stomach bomb couldn't be bothered to slap it on the screen. The upshot (and I doubt anyone has ever realized this) is that Saint Julia wanted to have it both ways: she poo-pooed the patriarchy (in the form of her stiff-as-a-starched-shirt papa) which "kept" Harried Housewife chained to her unhappy home, yet the heretics at Swanson never came out with a Boeuf à la Bourguignon frozen TV dinner -- she expected Harried Housewife to make THAT one all by herself!

The irony is Saint Julia was "saved" from becoming a Harried Housewife (albeit, an Über-Privileged Harried Housewife) by a man. Better yet, Paul Child "saved" Saint Julia "from" Stiff-as-a-Starched-Shirt Papa. As this IS HBO, John McWilliams is depicted as a Leftist Boogeyman: über-wealthy, über-conservative, über-bigoted, and (gad!) a Nixon supporter! Indeed, so taken are they with their Stiff-as-a-Starched-Shirt Papa Bashing, the makers of this "Girl Power" stomach bomb couldn't be bothered to give props to the three woman who helped make Saint Julia a household name: Louisette Bertholle, co-author of Mastering the Art of French Cooking; Knopf's Judith Jones, who pushed to get said opus published; and Knopf's Avis DeVoto, who edited and guided said opus.

Anyone familiar with Julia Child's life will find no big reveals here; anyone not familiar with her life will find even less.

This Sporting Life (1963)

This Sporting Lie!

[2/10 · 30 April 2022]

"Thanks" to TCM guest programmer Brian Cox, I had the displeasure of watching 2 hours of Richard Harris doing his impersonation of Richard Burton doing his impersonation of Marlon Brando last night.

Bad enough whoever wrote this knew squat about professional sports (no scenes of the players practicing, training, promoting the team, etc.), we're asked to root for a self-absorbed jerk doing his impersonation of Richard Burton doing his impersonation of Marlon Brando. Harris plays a Neanderthal who thinks nothing of abusing his elderly friend, yet is a kindly father figure to his widowed landlady's two small children. Speaking of, Neanderthal fancies himself in love with Widowed Landlady, a bitter harpy who says she wants nothing to do with him, even as she sleeps with him. I don't get it, either.

To give you an idea of just how all over the place this is, Neanderthal pours his "heart" out to his teammate about Widowed Landlady, only to lower the boom on her later by telling her that her husband's death wasn't a workplace accident but a suicide, THEN tells her he loves her and needs her! Oy!

He gets the skinny on Widowed Landlady's Hubby from the owner of the team, whom he and Widowed Landlady's Hubby slaved away for in the coal mines. It will probably come as no surprise that Mrs. Team Owner fancies herself in lust with Neanderthal. Now, this is where the film lost me: our "hero" isn't without a working brain cell (he refuses to sign unless he gets £1,000 up front), yet blows the golden opportunity to own Team Owner big-time with the mash note Mrs. Team Owner sends him. Hell, he could have burned it all down at Team Owner's party, but no! Such jaw-dropping stupidity makes you question your faith in humanity!

After Widowed Landlady tosses him (only thing in this Kitchen Sink Soap Opera which makes any sense!), he and his pricey whip find themselves at a flophouse (this would have been the time for Big-Time Rugby Star to own Team Owner big-time with the mash note from Mrs. Team Owner, but I digress). One night of flophouse life and he is pounding on Widowed Landlady's door, then learns from her neighbor she is in the hospital. The Doctor tells him she has lost the will to live. Being the self-absorbed jerk he is, Neanderthal decides she is dying of a broken heart (you would think her children would be reason enough for her to want to live, but I digress again). Once she and a spider on the wall he punches out buy it, he ditches the Kindly Father Figure routine and blows off her now-orphaned children waiting outside her room. He then breaks into her flat for his "Hey, Stella!" moment.

Richard Burton and (dare I say it) Marlon Brando deserve better.

The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (1956)

Angst, Angst, and More Angst!

[2/10 · 4 February 2022]

Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones starred in the most-twisted mainstream film I have ever seen, "Duel in the Sun". Bad enough their characters had no redeeming qualities, their showdown tries to force you to pick a side. It's sort of that way in "The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit", but here, Peck is such a wuss, his children (who are strangely obsessed with death, even counting how many characters on the westerns they watch on TV get shot) ignore him, and Jones is a social climbing harpy who makes life-altering decisions without so much as giving Hubby a heads-up. When she informs him that she has sold their home and they are moving into the abode his grandmother (may or may not have) left him, he doesn't even blink! Social Climbing Harpy's reaction to Doormat's admission that he fathered a boy while in Italy during the War is so ludicrously over-the-top, I laughed. When Doormat tells Social Climbing Harpy at the end of the film "I worship you", I wanted to hurl. Needless to say, I never bought them as a couple. The flashbacks make clear that Doormat cared deeply for Mamma Bambino, but he now wants nothing to do with her or their boy, yet he's a pillar of virtue because he feels obligated (after some serious arm-twisting by his Army buddy) to cough up $100 a month for their care? What a "gent".

The subplot, which goes nowhere, has Doormat's Boss being forced by his own Social Climbing Harpy (whom has nothing better to do except prattle around in haute couture) to deal with their spoiled brat, who wants to do nothing but party with cads and blow through Boss's money. Why Boss doesn't toss Spoiled Brat out on her derrière and cut her off without a cent is not for us lesser minds to ponder. And the idea that Boss sees Doormat as a surrogate son to where he's fine with Doormat proclaiming that he's a "9 to 5 man" from now on strains credulity to say the least.

As for the film's "message", it's been done to death and done better.

Reframed: Marilyn Monroe (2022)

"This is CNN"!

[2/10 · 24 January 2022]

"Reframed: Marilyn Monroe" is so wedded to its "all men are scum" take (ironic, as the last episode features the truly reptilian Lawrence Shiller!), it intentionally ignores Joe DiMaggio's reentry into her life after her divorce from Arthur Miller. Contrary to what "biographer" Sarah Churchwell states, Marilyn didn't "somehow" get herself out of the Payne Whitney Psychiatric Clinic. DiMaggio did. It was he who cared for her during her last 19 months (to the extent she allowed), claimed her body, and arranged her funeral (dismissed here as a small gathering of family and friends). He also quit his job four days before her death to return to California to ask her to remarry him. All of this is ignored! Churchwell's insistence that Monroe saw DiMaggio as a means to boost her fame by co-oping his is a load of hooey, and the Cynical Harpy/Girl Power! Bit does her no favors. While The Misandrists do note Zanuck tried to replace Monroe after she fled to the NYC, only Sheree North (who would play her mother in the TV movie "Marilyn: The Untold Story") is mentioned (Jayne Mansfield would like a word, guys!). No mention of Monroe's pivotal role in "The Asphalt Jungle" (!) or her conversion to Judaism upon marrying Miller (!!)? Seriously? The Harpies dragging then-nobody Hugh Hefner in the second episode for not giving Marilyn a heads-up about using the nude calendar photos to launch "Playboy" was the perfect metaphor for the entire series: utter bumptiousness and twice as inane. But, then again, this IS CNN.

Belgravia (2020)

Come back, Napoléon! Come back!

[2/10 · 15 April 2020]

Too bad Napoléon lost at Waterloo because he could have done EPIX customers a huge solid, and sacked this latest offering from the twerps behind "Downton Abbey".

The "big secret" which the Downton Dopes manage to string along for 5 episodes had me howling: NO man of Bellasis's rank would trick a young girl into believing that they are married (and recruit his buddy to "marry" them) unless he wanted to annihilate his family's reputation for the next 100 years! And what was in it for him to target Sophia (pronounced "So-FI-ah" -- EXCUSE ME!)? If you are the son of an earl and you are going to go through life being a cad, have some self-respect! Set your sights on a daughter of a marquess or a duke or - dare I say it! - the king, NOT on some girl whose family has just crashed the party! Well, the joke is on Lord Byron Wanna-Be: he buys it at Waterloo (thanks, Napoléon!). But So-FI-ah dies after giving birth to their son, whom her class-conscientious Mum has had stashed away like a draw-full of Daddy's old Playboys.

Byron Wanna-Be's Mum and Dad (who become the neighbors of So-FI-ah's family at Belgravia -- how convenient!) don't have a clue that they have a grandson, which is neither here nor there as the boy's illegitimacy entitles him to squat, which is also neither here nor there because, flash-forward 25 years, and Junior (who has been saddled with the moniker "Charles Pope") owns a cotton mill and is living large. I hope those who stick this dull, overwritten, (So-FI-ah could have explained her dilemma to Mum in 3 wordless shots instead of babbling about how Dad gave her his blessings to hook up with Byron Wanna-Be) ham-fisted ridiculousness out won't feel gypped when - "surprise"! - it turns out that Junior isn't illegitimate after all! Jane Austen must be spinning in her grave!

The Jazz Singer (1927)

A Boy and His Mama

[3/10 · 13 April 2020]

Saw this "landmark" film, finally. I wasn't expecting The General, and I wasn't disappointed, but the plot - with enough clichés to sink Solomon's Temple - would make the good folks at Hallmark puke!

Where do I begin? A 13 year old kid is in a saloon, and none of the adults there find it strange, much less, call the cops. The kid's parents don't bother wondering where he is until their friend tells them where the kid is (why the "deeply religious" friend is at the saloon wetting his whistle at the same time the kid is there is not for us lesser minds to ponder). Papa drags the kid out of the saloon, and no one reacts. The kid declares that he will run away from home if Papa gives him another trashing, and he nor Mama don't so much as bother to go to the cops when the kid makes good on his promise. When we next see the the kid, he is 41 year old Al Jolson! NO explanation as to what he has been doing or how he survived on his own for 28 years -- he is now 41 year old Al Jolson! Just accept it.

"Jazz Singer" Jolson doesn't so much as sings as he tears through his repertoire like he's on crack! He utterly-butchers "Blue Skies", a song which demands that each word be delivered slowly and fully; I could just imagine Irving Berlin pounding his head against a wall in mortification.

Anyhoo, Jolson's love interest (a "shiksa" Mama bemoans in horror!) is a rising star who helps him bag his big break, and is happy to learn his career means more to him than Mama or Papa or her (weird!). As Jolson agonizes over subbing for Papa at the synagogue or going on with the show that night, the show's director warns him not to "queer yourself". I found that interesting as it showed how meanings of words can deviate over time. Ironically, the word "queer" is used today by men who identify as homosexual as the insult it was originally intended! Anyhoo, Show Director tells the Opening Night audience (who paid beau-coup bucks and dressed up to the nines) that there won't be a show, Jolson performs the Kol Nidre at the synagogue, is reconciled with Papa, who croaks as he hears Sonny Boy sing, and NOBODY except Mama notices! We then jump forward a few years: Shiksa is nowhere to be found, but Mama is front-row-center as her black-faced Sonny Boy serenades her. Freud would have had a field day with these two!

For the record: the blackface IS disgusting - more so because it's unnecessary, song-wise - but what I found truly-insulting is the film builds up a moral dilemma, only to allow Sonny Boy to have his Lekach and eat it, too.

The Blot (1921)

Ham-Fisted Virtue-Signaling

[3/10 · 17 March 2020]

The Griggs family live in a really-nice house in a really-nice neighborhood. Dad is a college professor, and his daughter is a librarian. Yet, we're supposed to buy that the family is so "poverty-stricken", buying tea and fancy cakes forces them to fall behind on their mortgage? Spare me!

What had me wanting to put my head through the TV was the Woe Is Me Act by the Professor and Mrs. Professor. Why is it up to Rich Boy to tell his dad to raise Hell with the Board over the Professor's meager wages? Why doesn't the Professor (whom has tenure, I assume) go to the Board and raise Hell over his meager wages? Why doesn't Mrs. Professor tell the Professor to go to the Board and raise Hell over his meager wages? Why don't we see the other professors go to the Board and raise Hell over their meager wages? Why doesn't the Professor just quit and go to another college? These human doormats allow their circumstances to control them instead of the other way around. To add insult to injury, the title cards are few and far between (and lamely written, too boot). Unless you read lips, you won't know what everyone is blubbering about 90% of the time.

Then there is the "dilemma" Librarian faces choosing between her Three Romeos. Only Rich Boy is proactive in his pursuit of her (ignoring the Society Girl who loves him). Next door neighbor Shoe Boy just stares at her, and by the time Rich Boy's pal Preacher Man decides to make his weak-as-water move, it's too late. The film's final shot is of him walking away, moping.

The Blot's premise is as laughable as the idea of the Griggs's reputation being threatened over Mrs. Professor's half-hearted attempt to swipe Shoe Boy's mother's chicken. Mrs. Professor loses it when a basket of food containing - you guessed it - a chicken is delivered to the house, courtesy of Rich Boy. Mrs. Professor speculates as much to Librarian, who refuses to eat the subsequent chicken dinner, thinking it's Shoe Boy's Mother's chicken (which she tries later to reimburse Shoe Boy's Mother for); they fall into blubbering sobs after Rich Boy confirms that he sent the chicken! Had this ham-fisted virtue-signaling on income inequity not been written and directed by a woman, would critics and film scholars be praising it to the skies? Doubt it.

Catherine the Great (2019)

Catherine the Not-So-Great

[2/10 · 13 November 2019]

I understand actors wanting to develop their own projects, but surely Helen Mirren can do way-better than this slop. Had she made sure the script and casting (sorry HM, but you are WAY-TOO old to play the Notorious CTG) was as top-shelf as the sets and costumes, she would have really had something. Instead, we are treated to "Caligula-Lite", complete with enough F-Bombs to sink the entire Imperial Russian Navy!

Since IMDb is pulling the old Unable to Verify routine on me, below are a few of the reasons why Chatty Cathy had me pulling out my hair:

* Potemkin and Praskovja were never lovers. She not only played Cupid between he and Catherine, she "tested" the men he selected for Catherine as potential favorites. Moreover, it was Potemkin who engineered her downfall.

* Potemkin was never lured into a game of billiards, then pummeled within an inch of his life by two of Catherine's Boy Toys.

* Potemkin lost his left eye in 1762 shortly after Catherine came to the throne, the circumstances of which remain unclear to this day. What is clear is that he didn't lose the eye fighting the Turks.

* While speaking of the Treaty of St. Petersburg, Catherine tells Zavadovsky and Zubov that Frederick the Great called her a Naughty Word. In fact, she asked him for recommendations for a bride for Paul. Would she have sought his advice if she knew he thought she was a Naughty Word?

* Catherine, Potemkin, and other characters speak of Germany as a nation. Germany became a nation in 1871.

* Constantinople was renamed Istanbul in 1923.

* Potemkin yells "Let's get this show on the road!" as he boards Catherine's barge. That phrase was coined circa 1910.

* According to "Catherine the Great and the French Philosophers of the Enlightenment", she did not have a policy which punished her critics, odd for a ruler who prided herself on being an autocrat. Ergo, the hissy fit she throws at court, announcing that "the monster" who slammed her will be tried and (hopefully) executed probably never happened.

* The French Revolution did horrify Catherine, as she saw it as an assault on civilization itself. While she did blame Voltaire, Diderot, and Rousseau for the uprising, she mostly blamed Louis XVI (whom she had great sympathy for) for "not knowing how to rule" and did not order a burning of books by French writers.

* Catherine's parents were German, yet singles her mother out for derision because she was German? Her relationship with her mother was ambivalent, however, her rise to power was due, in no small part, to Mama. The outburst comes out of absolute nowhere.

* Praskovja lost her position in 1779 when Catherine caught her and a Boy Toy in the act, engineered by Potemkin. Needless to say, Praskovja schmoozing with Potemkin at court, then later chatting with Catherine in the garden never happened.

* By the time Paul came to the throne, he had 8 children, not 2. He was also a man in his 40s, not an overgrown brat in his 20s.

* The account of Catherine's death is pure hooey. She was found on the floor of her study by her chamberlain; her physician diagnosed a stroke. Attempts to revive her failed, and she fell into a coma. Paul and Maria arrived at the Palace that evening (having been notified by Zubov, who traveled to Gatchina), and spent the night at her bedside. Informed that there was no hope of recovery, Paul ordered Bezborodko to sort and seal the papers in the study, under the supervision of Aleksandr and Konstantin; she died that night. The very-idea of a dying Catherine lying on the floor as Paul tears the place apart searching for the paper naming Aleksandr as her heir is unthinkable and twice as ludicrous!

* Paul scoffs at the rumor that Catherine married Potemkin in secret. The actual rumor was that she married Grigory Orlov, with who she had a son, Aleksey. Aleksey nor Catherine's two daughters are even hinted at here.

* The epilogue says Paul was assassinated on Aleksandr's orders. Aleksandr did not punish the assassins, yet there is no proof that he was in on in, much less, had Dear Old Dad offed. Also, the Aleksandr in the miniseries is a child (he was actually 18 when Catherine died): are we really expected to buy that a child ordered his father's murder like some Mini-Mafioso?

Face palm!

Sid & Judy (2019)

Over the Blah, Blah, Blah

[3/10 · 20 October 2019]

I read an anecdote once about Sid Luft and Judy Garland sitting at a restaraunt bar when she said something and he belted her in reaction, knocking her off of the stool. No one reacted as she meekly got up off the floor, and crawled back onto the stool next to him. Some years after her death, an acquaintance ran into Luft tooling around in a Mercedes: he had bagged the rights to Garland's work, and was now living large. In 2002, he was ordered to pay The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences $60,000 for attempting to sell the juvenile Oscar awarded to Garland for "The Wizard of Oz" and its replacement. Yet up until his death, Luft insisted that he was the only person who ever cared truly for Garland and had her best interests at heart.

Though "Sid & Judy" tries mightily to make Luft The Knight In Shining Armor to Garland's Damsel In Distress, it ends the charade when we are introduced to the vipers who became her managers. It then wants you to see Luft as this hapless schmo whom Freddie Fields and David Begelman push out their charge's life when, in fact, the three formed an Unholy Trinity; to protect himself, Luft recorded the telephone conversations he had with Fields, Begelman, and most everyone else in Garland's orbit without their consent.

For those with even a cursory knowledge of Garland's life, nothing in "Sid & Judy" will come as a revelation, although learning that she aborted Luft's child, as both were married (she to director Vincente Minnelli; he to actress Lynn Bari), and he being a total cad about the whole thing, was a shock. It also made me wonder why she decided to not only stay with him, but marry him.

While the focus is understandably on Garland, we don't learn anything about Luft, as if he just popped up out of absolute nowhere. I had to do some research to learn that he had been a test pilot for Douglas (now McDonnell Douglas), and was in the Royal Canadian Air Force. I also learned that while married to Garland, he lost the custody battle for his son with Bari, the judge ruling that the Luft household "was an improper place in which to rear the boy." Ouch!

Not omitted is the perfunctory exploration of Garland's addictions, which I sympathize with, yet never understood. Like Garland, Mickey Rooney was the product of show business parents who found himself a cog in the MGM soul-sucking machine before he hit puberty. The demands made on him by his overlords were just as punishing as the demands they made on her. And his private life was an even-bigger train wreck than hers, if that's at all possible. Yet Rooney didn't fall into the abyss, shuffling off his mortal coil at the ripe old age of 93, 44 years after Garland died!

The last 15 minutes are rushed, as if director Stephen Kijak had grown bored with his subjects. He jettisons Garland and Luft from their own documentary, ultimately, in favor of someone who calls himself "Miss Major Griffin-Gracy". A "trans woman activist", he prattles on about Garland being an icon for people who suffer from gender and/or sexual identity issues as we watch him and his confederates descend upon her resting place like the Army storming Normandy; "cringe-worthy" doesn't begin to describe it.

Judy Garland and - dare I say it - Sid Luft deserve better.

The Old Man & the Gun (2018)

The Sundance Kid's Swan Song

[2/10 · 10 July 2019]

My mother and Robert Redford were born on August 18, 1936. As each approaches their 83rd birthday, Mom looks as though she's going on 73 while Redford looks as though he's going on 183! As I watched this last night, I was distracted constantly by the patchwork quilt which is now his once impossibly-gorgeous visage, his slovenly sideburns, and his shriveled-up physique to the point where I kept asking myself: What the HELL happened to him?!

When the "hero" of your opus is anything but, then you better give the audience at least one compelling reason to be invested in him; Redford's vanity project fails miserably. Bad enough it takes the usual liberties (Forrest Tucker - NO, not the guy from "F Troop" - was living in a retirement home in Florida when he pulled his final jobs; none of his wives or children knew about his shenanigans; he escaped San Quentin with two other inmates; the real Jewel was a Miami shipping heiress and Tucker's 3rd wife), we never learn a thing about him. Why did he pursue a criminal career the way other people pursue an actual career? Did he have Mommy issues? Was he exacting some bizarre revenge? Was he dropped on his head as a child one too many times? I didn't know nor did I care.

Where this lost me was how utterly-inept the film's Javert is. How did he NOT realize Jean Valjean was holding up the bank WHILE HE WAS THERE?! As if to make up for dropping the ball big-time, Javert - egged on by the Mrs. - launches a Les Misérables-like pursuit of Valjean, complete with having his kids follow Valjean's trail by pressing thumb-tacks into a map.

The thing which was impossible to ignore is how "woke" this is: Mrs. Javert; Javert's kids; Javert's partner; Valjean's cohort; a sheriff Javert talks to; and the bank exec Valjean tries to sweet-talk into letting him pay off Fantine's mortgage are black. Yet its "wokeness" goes only so far: none of the other Keystone Cops are Latino, Asian or Native American; ditto, Valjean's victims. And how ironic that the über-"woke" Redford lets his equally-"woke" writer/director David Lowery slip into a scene Javert's daughter reading her Get Well letter to then-President Reagan, thanking him for "making America safe"! All this "woke" accomplishes is to emphasize how forced, contrived, and condescending the whole enterprise is.

We never even learn if the cops ever found Valjean's ill-gotten booty. Speaking of, why didn't he retrieve said booty before he tried to sweet-talk the bank exec instead of telling her that he didn't have the money? At this point, I half-expected him to "get" the money by robbing the bank. But no such luck.

Near the end, The Sundance Kid pulls a Horse Whisperer (or a Jeremiah Johnson), and swipes one of Fantine's horses to attempt a getaway (how he knows how to saddle, bridle, and ride a horse is not for us lesser minds to ponder). I suppose we ought to just be grateful we were not subjected to Valjean and Fantine (aka Sissy Spacek) getting jiggy with it.

This Forrest Tucker needs to go back to F Troop!

Midnight in Paris (2011)

The Misadventures of Gil The Groupie

[2/10 · 4 July 2019]

Caught this on Showtime the other night after seeing it a few years back, and was reminded of why I found it such pretentious clap-trap. As in "Celebrity", Allen taps yet another young blonde-haired, blue-eyed man to be his WASP doppelgänger, and surrounds him with obnoxious WASP elites. We're supposed to sympathize with him and his "plight". Only problem is Gil The Groupie (aka WASP Woody) is a such whiny, insecure twerp, despite being a successful screenwriter ("Adaptation.", anybody?), you want to deck him!

For reasons I didn't get, Gil The Groupie wishes that he could have kicked it with The Cool Kids of 1920's Paris, when Paris was, like, cool. One night, while wandering down a cobblestone road, Gil The Groupie gets his wish. What's more, The Cool Kids welcome him into The Club instantly; no one so much as asks: "Who is this guy?". Forget that none of The Cool Kids (Joséphine Baker, Djuna Barnes, Juan Belmonte, Luis Buñuel, Salvador Dalí, T.S. Eliot, F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, Cole Porter, Man Ray, Gertrude Stein, Leo Stein, Alice B. Toklas) were kicking it in Paris at the same time, Allen mocks these figures by reducing them collectively to the same shallow cliché as their new amigo.

Gil The Groupie finds himself in competition with Hemingway (whom Allen seems to have a bizarre obsession with; he gets more screen time than the rest of The Cool Kids put together) for the affections of Picasso's, ahem, "muse". Why any woman would give either of these jerks the time of day is beyond me, but then, the "muse" is doing the nasty with Picasso, King Of The Jerks, so her standards aren't very-high to begin with! Anyway, the "muse" is supposed to be this Little Girl Lost, so we're supposed to sympathize with her and her "plight". Only, we don't (I didn't, anyway): One minute, she's throwing herself at Gil The Groupie; the next, she runs off with Hemingway to Africa (!). After Little Girl Lost pops back up in Paris, Gil The Groupie gives her a pair of earrings, then they wind up in the 1890's because Allen has run out of ideas (not that he had any to begin with), where they find themselves kicking it with The Cool Kids, Belle Époque Version (Edgar Degas, Paul Gauguin, Henri Matisse, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec). When Little Girl Lost declares that she is staying in the 1890's, Gil The Groupie replies basically "whatever." This is the love of his life, but he just goes "whatever"?! Huh?! Did I miss something?! In case anyone cares, Belle Époque began some 20 years before Little Girl Lost declares "it's the start of the Belle Époque". But, I digress.

What had me screaming (aside from him finding Little Girl Lost's diary in a bookstore, and how Paris - one of the filthiest cities on the planet - is always freshly-scrubbed in the movies) was how Gil The Groupie tells everyone that he's from the future, yet no one asks for proof! He could have blown their minds by showing them his "masterpiece" on his laptop. But I digress (again). Such jaw-dropping stupidity really makes you question your faith in humanity.

Wildlife (2018)

Dano's Dumpster Dump!

[2/10 · 20 June 2019]

Caught this on Showtime last night. Stylish and twice as boring, I didn't buy Carey Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal as a married couple, much less, as parents. Then-17 year old Ed Oxenbouldt as their 14 year old son was one, big 1,000 yard stare! It's never explained why the family moved to Montana or how they can afford to rent a house on Dad's meager $40 a week salary as a glorified gofer at the country club. Dad deciding that he needs to abandon his family to play Firefighter comes out of absolutely nowhere. Likewise, Mom pulling Junior out of school for the day to drive up to the fire WITHOUT tracking Dad down made even-less sense. Instead of setting an example for her boy on how to be strong, independent, and self-reliant, the now-"liberated" Mom throws herself at the slovenly Town Big Shot, and recruits Junior to help her reel him in in a scene which borders on incestuous! You've Come a Long Way, Baby!

Actor Paul Dano (in his directorial debut) does us no favors by chucking key points in the novel (Dad was fired because a club member accused him to stealing his wallet, which sends Dad into a breakdown). Worse, Junior's budding relationship with a classmate goes nowhere. So, what does Dad do when he learns Mom has been doing the "cha-cha-cha" with the slovenly Town Big Shot? He pours gasoline on the porch, and sets it on fire (I'm sure the Landlord really "appreciated" THAT)! No wonder the critics were hugging themselves, giving Dano props for making a 105 minute film about stupid, selfish, immature, pathetic trash right-thinking people would avoid like the plague! Dano ought to stick to doing the one, big 1,000 yard stare!

Ocean's Eight (2018)

Stupid Sloppy is as Stupid Sloppy Does

[2/10 · 31 March 2019]

I hate stupid movies. I hate sloppy movies. I hate stupid, sloppy movies with A-List casts which cost the GDP of a small country. I am the ONLY person in the entire universe who noticed that the "star" of this stupid, sloppy movie - the replica of a priceless Cartier diamond necklace "fished out" by a crew member working for the "criminal mastermind" behind the heist of the real necklace, claiming that it "must" have "slipped" off the lovely neck of the not-so-lovely celebrity racing toward the bathroom to puke her guts out, despite its unique clasp which makes a "slip" impossible - was COUPLED, AND that the not-so-lovely celebrity was wearing the real necklace as she had her head in the toilet puking her guts out?! You would think the actors would have turned to the hack behind the camera, and yelled: "Hey, Dummy! The fake necklace is coupled, AND she's wearing the real one as she has her head in the toilet puking her guts out!" But no such luck. Stupid Sloppy is as Stupid Sloppy does.

The owner of the lovely neck is Anne Hathaway, who plays a vapid creature named Daphne Kluger (why she didn't play herself, as Vogue's head honcho Anna Wintour does, is not for us lesser minds to ponder). Hathaway's ex, "real estate developer" Raffaello Follieri, defrauded investors out of $100 million in a scheme involving properties the Catholic Church was selling to settle assault claims. Unfortunately, humanity will never know if she so much as asked Follieri how the hell he was paying for their pricey amusements, as the FBI allowed her to go along her merry way without so much as asking her a single question.

I mention this because Ocean's Eight isn't just about fraud, it IS a fraud! This odious ode to Girl Power (co-written by a woman!) doesn't have one compelling reason to exist. Bad enough Marlo Thomas, Elizabeth Ashley, and Elliot Gould are dragged out of mothballs for cameos which give "cringe" a bad name, it has more plot holes than a sieve.

The aforementioned "criminal mastermind" is the sister of the deceased (or not) Danny Ocean. Hours after Debbie Ocean is sprung from the pokey after promising to be a good girl, she relieves Bergdorf-Goodman and Burberry of a few goodies, then crashes at The Plaza, with an unwitting couple footing the bill. Any one of these stunts should have landed her back in the pokey, but no one catches on because she is a "criminal mastermind"!

Criminal Mastermind wants revenge on her ex, an art fraudster (you were expecting a Boy Scout?) for sending her to the pokey. So, she decides to steal a bauble dubbed The Toussaint she cons Cartier into having it adorn the lovely neck of the not-so-lovely celebrity who winds up with her head in the toilet puking her guts out during The Met Gala, and frame him for it. She and her Sidekick recruit a motley crew with specific skills, one of whom comes up with the "genius" idea of creating the fake bauble from zirconium by using a 3-D printer. Forget that it is impossible for a 3-D printer to 3-D print zirconium AND that zirconium is heavier than diamonds -- these are "criminal masterminds"!

The "master hacker" warns Debbie to erase her digital footprints as the "master hacker" creates digital footprints. Vogue hires four members of The Motley Crew for The Gala without conducting thorough background checks. How did Criminal Mastermind get the mobile she uses to con The Plaza into giving "the couple" their room back? How did the "master jeweler" set up shop in The Met's kitchen bathroom without anyone noticing? Did I mention the DNA The Motley Crew leave all over the now-split necklace that Criminal Mastermind slips into Art Fraud's pocket to "prove" he stole it?

That this odious ode to Girl Power relies on a MAN (Yen from "Ocean's 11") to relieve The Gala of its other priceless bling was lost on everyone, too. Forget how we're supposed to buy that Criminal Mastermind moves over $300 million without the FBI and the Secret Service on her like flies-on-stink -- she is a "criminal mastermind"! Had one of the ladies used her ill-gotten booty to help the less-fortunate, I wouldn't be feeling ripped-off. But no such luck. Stupid Sloppy is as Stupid Sloppy does.

Phantom Thread (2017)

I Swear I'll Kill You! I'll Kill You a Million Times!

[2/10 · 30 September 2018]

Having seen this last night, and two other films by Paul Thomas Anderson, I am convinced that he is a reptilian and a misanthrope, too boot. His characters are cruel, selfish, sadistic, amoral or a combination thereof. The sequence with Barbara Rose (a stand-in for Woolworth heiress Barbara Hutton) in this twisted "Pygmalion" (that whirring sound you hear is George Bernard Shaw spinning in his grave!) is the perfect example of Anderson's truly-vile nature: the "hero" and "heroine" not only do not give a whit for their obviously-miserable client, after she passes out at her wedding, they decide that she does not "deserve" to wear the gorgeous gown they made (and she paid for!). They go to her hotel room, and demand the gown back. After the lady's lady companion balks (understandably), the "heroine" storms into Barbara's boudoir and strips it off of her -- an act which gives her and the "hero" a sexual charge! Karl-Otto and Ilse Koch had nothing on these two!

But things really kick into "high gear" when Ilse, sorry, Alma, discovers the joy of poisoned mushrooms: you can slice them; dice them; crush them; fry them in lots of butter. Oh, and you can use them to make the man you love deathly-ill to get back at him for raking you over the coals over how you cooked the asparagus! Now, you'd think the "my girlfriend is trying to kill me" bit would have Karl-Otto, sorry, Reynolds, running to the nearest police station, but, nope, he gets his sick kicks being waylaid by his Wicked Witch to the point where he tells the doctor his sister (aka The Butchest Women in The British Empire) drags into this sordid, sorry mess to examine him to shove his stethoscope where the sun don't shine!

Incredibly, Karl-Otto and Ilse tie the knot, and - wouldn't you know it! - run into Dr. Shove Your Stethoscope Where The Sun Don't Shine on their honeymoon. You're waiting for Ilse and Dr. Shove Your Stethoscope Where The Sun Don't Shine to hook up when he invites her to a New Year's Party he promises will be a jolly time; she goes to the Jolly Time, but Dr. Shove Your Stethoscope Where The Sun Don't Shine is a no-show (!). Anderson really drops the ball when Karl-Otto drags Ilse out of the Jolly Time, then whines to The Butchest Women in The British Empire that he made a mistake in marrying Ilse, who decides it's time to break her New Best Friends out (again!). Ilse could have dispatched Karl-Otto and The Butchest Women in The British Empire, taken over The House of Woodcock (what a stupid name!), hooked-up with Dr. Shove Your Stethoscope Where The Sun Don't Shine, and lived happily ever after -- until it was time to break her New Best Friends out (again!)

Justice League (2017)

Makes "Batman v Superman" look like "Citizen Kane"

[2/10 · 10 July 2018]

$300 million was spent on this. All the good $300 million could have done, and Warner Bros. threw it at Joss Whedon, who took over after fellow hack Zack Snyder dropped out after the loss of his daughter (he is credited as the director as he helmed the principal photography). Warners turning to Whedon to complete a film featuring Wonder Woman after he was blasted on social media when his rejected Wonder Woman script was leaked unto an undeserving world was an irony lost on them, I'm sure.

The beef I have with superhero movies (aside from idiot studio execs throwing hundreds of millions of dollars at hacks) is NONE of them are faithful to the original origin story: the Kents adopted baby Kal-El from an orphanage; Diana competed against the other Amazons to become Wonder Woman; Bruce Wayne saw a bat come through his window as he was brooding in his study. Here, Snyder and Whedon "outdo" themselves by trashing not one but two superheroes: Aquaman is now a tatted-up boozer who can't communicate with fish, and The Flash is now a whiny Soy Boy who exclaims "Oh, snap!" And like the rotten cherry on top, the Villain has an Oedipus Complex!

Then, there are the plot holes. Yeah, a superhero movie just isn't a superhero movie without tons of plot holes. But Whedon and co-hack Chris Terrio (who won an Oscar; how in God's Name did THAT happen?!) seem to take a perverted delight in trying to out dumb-and-dumber Snyder: God-awful CGI; slow-motion sequences which will make you beg to be waterboarded; ripping off nearly every Si-Fi film from the past 20 years ("The Matrix", "Lord of the Rings", "Thor"). Barry and Victor exhume Clark's grave in the dead of night? Superman has memory loss after being brought back to life? The henchmen of The Villain With The Oedipus Complex tear through Russia, but can't tear the salt box a family lives in to shreds? Did The Villain With The Oedipus Complex set up shop at a defunct nuclear reactor in Russia so that the little girl who lived in the salt box could play with a flower on a radioactive LSD trip? Makes as much "sense" as anything else in this tripe!

But the real crime against humanity is Dumb and Dumber wasting the charged chemistry Ben Affleck and Gal Godot unleashed in "Batman v Superman". I was anticipating Batman and Wonder Woman hooking up (or realizing they are soulmates, at the very least), but in "Justice League", they act as though they hardly know each other -- and don't want to!

Seeing how Whedon has made a second "career" out of his seething hatred of Trump, I'm surprised he didn't manage to shoehorn some jabs at Agent Orange. Perhaps he did, but his overlords decided that was a Bridge To Nowhere Too Far (Walter Chaw of Film Freak Central opines Snyder's "Man of Steel" and "Batman v Superman" predicted the Trump presidency, but he gives Snyder way-too much credit for brains AND talent!).

At any rate, I don't blame Whedon (or Snyder) for this as much as I blame Affleck, who has managed to do the impossible: make George Clooney the second-worst Batman ever! One of the producers, Affleck hired Terrio to write "Argo", for which Terrio won an Oscar (how in God's Name did THAT happen?!); no doubt, he convinced Warners to tap Terrio to pen "Man of Steel" and "Batman v Superman". After the $75 million Warners had to eat when Affleck's opus "Live by Night" arrived in D.O.A., why the former Mr. Jennifer Garner hasn't been tarred, feathered, and run out on a rail is beyond me!

As Shakespeare would have put it, this "is a tale, told by an idiot (in this case, three idiots), full of sound and fury, signifying nothing".

That whirring sound you hear are the Warner Brothers spinning in their graves!

Victoria (2016–2019)

ericozu hits it out of the park

[2/10 · 29 January 2018]

I'm writing this is because of the characters of Paget and Drummond. Yes, there actually was an Alfred Paget and an Edward Drummond, but NO, neither man identified as homosexual. In fact, the real Drummond (whose family owned Drummonds, banker to Victoria's grandfather, King George III) was 23 years OLDER than the real Paget, and died three years BEFORE Paget came to court as Victoria's equerry in 1846! In short, there is no evidence that Paget and Drummond ever met! That they are presented here as hunky 20-somethings with the hots for each other for no other reason than to push an agenda is a vile insult to them and to their families!

While there is a "point" to making Paget and Drummond hunky 20-somethings with the hots for each other, there is NO point in vilifying Victoria's and Albert's uncle, Leopold. The real Leopold was a tremendous help to his niece and nephew. Here, he is a scheming scumbag who undermines Victoria at every turn, then, because he can, hints to Albert that he is Albert's father. There is no evidence Leopold's relationship with Albert's mother was anything but platonic, and there is no point in making him the heavy.

The real Victoria and Albert were progressive-conservatives, determined to drag the United Kingdom kicking and screaming into the 19th century. But here, they are SO put upon! Neither takes any interest in the issues or the welfare of the people unless forced to; it's a wonder either notices that they have children, much less, give them the time of day!

But the real crime "Victoria" commits is that it is - as ericozu notes - shallow, boring, silly, poorly written, and annoying. And if you're looking for anything remotely-resembling historical accuracy, look elsewhere!

La La Land (2016)

Better Than I Expected... Which Isn't Saying Much!

[2/10 · 6 October 2017]

Aside from the cliché-ridden "plot" you've seen a bazillion times, I was reminded constantly that people who have "made it" are playing people trying to "make it". Had this been cast with people who actually need that "big break", I might have been able to forgive the cliché-ridden "plot", and hopped on board.

Gosling and Stone have zero range, and their roles make their "abilities" only stick out like sore thumbs: can't sing; can't dance; can't act. Seriously, how much did Stone's team pony up for her to bag an Oscar? She is an "actress" playing an "actress", but couldn't convince me of even that! And Gosling is nothing but droopy locks and a grin. Unfortunately, "thanks" to Eva Mendes, we can't ship Droopy Locks back to Canada until she kicks him to the curb or their kids turn 18!

Six more beefs:

1) Stone skips town because her "brilliant" one-woman show flops, forcing the theater owners to eat the money she owes them? That DOES NOT happen in real life.

2) Who the hell blows beaucoup bucks on a band with NO SHOT of charting in the Top 100?

3) Gosling proclaims that jazz is dying, which "explains" the hordes of 20-somethings at his jazz club!

4) Casting directors don't call an actor's ex, they call the actor's agent!

5) Who the hell green lights a "concept" without a script (to be shot in Paris, no less)?

6) I lived in Boulder City. The name of the library is... the Boulder City Public Library! The film's assistant prop manager is supposedly from Boulder City, but didn't set the hack - sorry, director - straight, I assume, because she didn't want to lose her job.

Speaking of jobs, Earth to John Legend: don't quit your day job (whatever that is).

The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe (2015)

putrid piece of garbage

[3/10 · 7 June 2015]

I'd copy-and-paste "putrid piece of garbage" like a broken record, but there are a few things which need to be said about this putrid piece of garbage:

* Dougherty has Marilyn's mother hauled off by the cops after she knocks down their bedroom door, brandishing a kitchen knife? If you buy that, I've got some oceanfront property in Arizona for sale!

* Marilyn basing "Marilyn Monroe" on a cigarette girl whom she sees seductively selling a boy a pack of gum? Rrriiiggghhhttt.

* No proof Dougherty ever called her "crazy like your mother" or threatened to take her to a "head doctor".

* Her first screen test/contract happened after she divorced Dougherty.

* No proof Tom Kelley knew Joseph Schenck, much less, wrangled her an invite to Schenck's "poker party".

* No proof her drug dependency began with Johnny Hyde feeding her uppers like they were candy.

* She rehearses a dance routine from "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" before she meets DiMaggio. In fact, she learned she got "Blondes" on her 26th birthday, after she met DiMaggio.

* She and DiMaggio met on a blind date at Chasen's, not at some dive where a brunette is ready to pounce on him. And the real date did not wind up like this one does. A figment of the filmmakers' warped imaginations.

* The DiMaggio dinner table is headed by his parents. He tells Marilyn when they run into each other after their divorce "my folks ask about you all the time". DiMaggio's parents died before he met Marilyn.

* Marilyn saying Peter Lawford's much-better half, aka JFK's sister, is everything she wants to be? Too funny.

* DiMaggio and Marilyn get jiggy with it after running into each other while she has drinks with Peter Lawford's much-better half, aka JFK's sister while still married to Arthur Miller, AND with the disapproval of Peter Lawford's much-better half, aka JFK's sister? In the filmmakers' warped imaginations. They did run into each other in Reno while she was filming "The Misfits", but she had her posse in tow, and, needless to say, there was no getting jiggy with it.

* No mention of DiMaggio's son or Miller's two children, all of whom she was very close to.

* Miller a passive-aggressive prick who blames Marilyn for killing their unborn child? Any takers for that oceanfront property in Arizona yet?

* No mention of her trip to Korea?! Are you kidding?!

* DiMaggio had a warm relationship with Eunice Murray, who found Marilyn dead (at least they got THAT right!) Threatening to sack her if she doesn't clean Marilyn's pig sty of a bedroom? Pure fiction.

* The real Marilyn was right-handed.

I should have copied-and-pasted "putrid piece of garbage" like a broken record.

Kingdom Come (2011)

@ericdrumz nails it

[2/10 · 10 February 2015]

Saw this last night on Showtime. As I'm watching, it occurred to me that everyone bitching about how hard the indie life are highly-successful industry people. Whenever I think of Illeana Douglas, I think of her grandfather, who left behind - aside from a great body of work - two Academy Awards. I imagine if she were really hard-up, she could pawn Grandpa's Oscars for a pretty penny.

As for our "hero" Daniel Gillies (aka Whiny Bitch), he is a working actor whom, I presume, has an agent, whom, I presume, knows people, whom, I presume, can help Whiny Bitch get his vanity project off the ground! For the rest of us with no cash and even less connections, Kingdom Come tells you squat about how to get your little opus off the ground. And @ericdrumz was right about Gillies's "producer" -- talk about clueless!

The other thing that bugged me was how everyone bitched about "the money people". Again, these people crap what you and I make in a year. I guess there are a few twits who get their jollies stringing aspiring filmmakers along, but, if you're asking me for x-amount of dollars, what guarantee do I have that you won't go to Vegas, and blow the whole wad?!

The Colombia segment featured heart-breaking footage of stray dogs. When I realized Whiny Bitch did squat to help these poor creatures (I would have moved heaven and earth to bring them to the States or, at the very least, make sure they were off the streets and properly cared for!), he lost me.

If they ever make a film about Michael Hutchence (INXS), Whiny Bitch would be perfect. Not only is he a dead ringer for Hutchence, he is also vain, self-absorbed, and a legend in his own mind!

The New Normal (2012–2013)

A Child is Not a Cupcake Out of an Easy-Bake Oven!

[2/10 · 12 September 2012]

Watched the pilot. It's not the premise that I object to. Nor the inane set-up. Nor the insipid dialog. Nor the shallow, one-dimensional characters which reek of ugly stereotypes. It's the sanctimonious smugness, revolting misogyny, and even-more revolting attitude toward children, child-bearing, and child-rearing.

After the shopaholic half of the gay couple exchanges coos with a baby at Barney's, he rushes home to his non-shopaholic better half with a miniature blazer he has bought, and declares: "I want us to have baby clothes. And a baby to wear them." This will come as a shock, but a child is not a fashion accessory. And it is not a cupcake out of an Easy-Bake Oven (a truly vicious put-down). It is a human being.

By the way, people behind this travesty, what brought you into this world was not an Easy-Bake Oven. It was a woman. A human being. Deal with it!

Hemingway & Gellhorn (2012 TV Movie)

Bad Hemingway

[2/10 · 10 June 2012]

There was once a contest called the International Imitation Hemingway Competition, better known as Bad Hemingway, in which entrants submitted the most-ludicrous, ham-fisted short stories in the style of the man some consider the greatest writer America has ever produced, Ernest Hemingway. Too bad the contest is now defunct, because the twits behind Hemingway & Gellhorn could have submitted this ham-fisted ludicrousness, and "won" hands down!

I positively howled at the scene where a bomb explodes as the title characters are doing the nasty, stop as debris rains on them, then pick up where they left off. Then, the film had the gall to have the heroine come upon the crying baby who was the lone survivor of a Japanese bombing raid (one of the most horrific of all wartime images). When her guide (whom I thought at first was the butchiest woman in China) tells her there's nothing they can do, I wanted to reach inside the TV, and throttle them! That the guide turned out to be the future Chairman Mao - whose regime killed at least 40 million people (and babies) - was a bit of nasty the filmmakers didn't want to touch with a 10 foot chopstick. Instead, they were too busy turning Mao's partner in crime, Zhou Enlai, into an erudite stud, castrating Chiang Kai-shek, and making a convincing argument for "Papa" and "Marty" being Forrest Gumps's parents!

When one plays a real person, he should inspire the viewer to learn more about that person; Owen and Kidman fail miserably. Granted, Hemingway and Gellhorn were not the nicest people, to put nicely. And Gellhorn cheated on Hemingway throughout their marriage -- another bit of nasty the filmmakers wanted no part of.

Owen looked like a nerdy Groucho Marx, and Kidman looked like, well, Nicole Kidman. And the script was a putrid mess. "You spend so much time arguing with F. Scott Fitzgerald about who has a bigger penis, but I know the truth"? Gag!

After "Marty" kicked the documentary crew out of her apartment, I was hoping she would follow "Papa"'s lead. But no such luck. Instead, we are "treated" to a bizarre interaction between her and a raven at her window (!). Then, she straps a backpack on, and storms out like an overgrown Girl Scout having a bitch fit. She wasn't the only one having a bitch fit.

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011)

Stan Lee's Buffalo Chips!

[2/10 · 30 April 2012]

I have a lot of problems with this, namely how we're supposed to buy that a scrawny runt who couldn't cut it in Basic turns into Rambo the moment he's pumped full of some radioactive crap. That he always knows exactly what to do. That he never hesitates, never has a "my bad", and the crap coursing through his veins doesn't affect him one bit. In real life, Scrawny Runt wouldn't have had a clue, his body would have attacked the crap coursing through his veins, and he would have been dead the moment he was popped out of his pod!

The Bad Guy, a Nazi gone rouge, has a ray gun that, literally, evaporates everything it's pointed at. So, he builds this complex deep in the forest, houses 400 Allied POWs, goofs on Wagner, and waits for the right moment to unleash Hell. Makes "sense" to me, too. Moreover, the Good Guys know all about Nazi Rouge and his plans to unleash Hell. Huh? If Hitler had gotten his hands on the ultimate Weapon of Mass Destruction, do you think he would have been holed up in the forest somewhere, goofing on Wagner, and biding his time? Hell, no!

After nearly two hours of this ham-fisted nonsense (and Tommy Lee Jones looking really, really constipated), we are treated to a close-up of a pair of eyes with the longest lashes you have ever seen. Is it a Maybelline commercial? No, it's Scrawny Runt lying on a cot, waking up as if from a bad dream! Moments later, he's running down the streets of present-day Manhattan (my idea of a bad dream), and runs smack into Samuel L. Jackson, who informs Scrawny Runt that he's been "asleep" for 70 years! So, why isn't Scrawny Runt at some a top-secret location being defrosted and debriefed? Because that would make way too much sense! Besides, Stan Lee needs him to peddle his newest bag of buffalo chips, The Avengers!