For A Few Movies More

I couldn’t help it. It just happened. It was there, I was there, and it happened. And I know I should feel seriously dirty and ashamed for doing it, but somehow I don’t. In fact, I’m pretty proud of it. After all, it was only $5 at Big W. A real bargain! So, DVD in hand, I hurried home through the rain and eagerly fired up my DVD player and sat down for a wonderful 78 minutes of inanity as my eyes beheld “Beavis and Butt-Head Do America” for the first time in years. Yeah, yeah, I know, totally immature, blah blah, whatever! Well, let me tell you something, ‘immature’ is just a word boring people use to describe fun people with a sense of humour, alright?! Nineties kids, stop looking at the screen like I’m talking about a porno here, ok? You watched it too. You know that as well as I do. You, like me, spent plenty of time sniggering away at that loveable pair of potty mouthed ne’er-do-wells, and secretly, like me, you have fond memories of it. Well, as I say, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it was only $5 at Big W! Brilliant!

For a guilty pleasure, this is a bit of a recent release. My picks are usually at least a few years old, having survived many repeated screenings, thus proving both their staying power and viewing pleasure (coincidentally, I find this applies to films that fall under favourites as well. Is there a connection, or even a difference, between favourite films and guilty pleasures? Discuss). But I feel fairly confident that Hot Tub Time Machine is most definitely a guilty pleasure of mine, and will continue to be so for quite some time, if not forever.

It’s only in the last year or two that I’ve realised my genre of choice is comedy. Where Dean has been a horror aficionado since a wee lad, or maybe Felk a Sci-Fi enthusiast, I’ve always — when given the option — gravitated towards comedies. No matter what mood you’re in, a good comedy will sit with you comfortably and make you forget your troubles, your life, and just give you a couple hours off from whatever you need time off from. Now, I’m usually wary of films that are scripted by three people or more — it doesn’t usually bode well when a film needs a whole classroom full of people to get it through to shooting stage — but I’m a bit of a John Cusack fan, and the trailer had enough jokes in it for me that I was quite looking forward to it back when it was theatrically released. Lucky for me, I was proven wrong in that sometimes, a multi-writer script doesn’t necessarily equal a shit movie.

It’s been too long, right?! According to my research (which was pretty much just clicking on the Guilty Pleasures tag), the last one of these was done way back in Feb of this year, and the last I did was Dec last year! Guess that means we’re long overdue. Having a look through my travel DVD collection (24 films that have travelled the world with me for my film-watching emergencies), and taking into account my current mood (we’ll leave that one alone…), I decided to tackle Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. My entry into this Guilty Pleasure isn’t even the original Dirty Dancing, which I’m fairly certain many of you reading would laugh at with derision already. This film isn’t an actual sequel, continuing from the original’s events (though it does feature a cameo from Patrick Swayze), but more of a reimagining of the original’s premise, following the same general format but set in another time and place (and apparently based on some true events). Jeer all you want, I have no shame when it comes to my favourites: I love this movie.

To be fair on me, my first involvement with the title was trying to catch up on the filmography of Diego Luna, who at one time, was a favourite celebrity crush of mine. I’m not saying I don’t still find him muy guapo, but more that my eagerness towards the Mexican actor has waned slightly. So anyway, it seemed pretty lame, but here comes the part where I have to confess another guilty pleasure of mine: dance flicks. Not a huge guilty pleasure, but still a valid one. Every now and then one of these movies comes along and I simply must watch them. I think it comes down to the fact that I have no dancing skills whatsoever, so I watch these films with a mixture of jealousy and awe. Because let’s face it, the acting and stories might suck, but it’s almost guaranteed they will feature some pretty amazing moves.

I have a question for you. Which of the six Star Wars films is your favourite? Be honest here. I promise I won’t judge. I imagine this question will get a pretty varied response. I believe the overwhelming majority of Star Wars fans out there will say their favourite is Episode IV: A New Hope. The original 1977 classic, by which all else is measured. Some sentimentalists may say Episode VI: Return Of The Jedi, for being the big climactic ending to the saga. For me it remains Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, for taking a truly brilliant groundbreaking film like Star Wars and taking it to whole news levels, raising the stakes, darkening the horizon, and of course giving us the immortal twist: “No. I am your father.” A few of Star Wars’ younger fans may even say that one of the prequels is their favourite. One thing’s for sure, I imagine very few will say their favourite is Episode I: The Phantom Menace.

For all the hype leading up to its 1999 release, Episode I left a sour taste in many mouths, with its strange title, its plot fraught with complicated politics previously unheard-of in a Star Wars film, its script that sounded like a first draft scribbled on the back of a beer coaster after a few schooners in the pub the night before filming began, it’s just-too-convenient plot points (a nine year old kid who can build a complex protocol droid from spare parts in his bedroom. Yeah, right. Okay.), and of course the insufferable Jar-Jar Binks. But even allowing for all these short comings (among others I could mention), Episode I has its moments, and some rather good ones at that. And now, with George Lucas finally re-releasing all six Star Wars films in 3D as he has been threatening to do for the past six years, starting with Episode I, I figured this would be an ideal guilty pleasure to take a look at.

Having recently visited Richmond, Virginia, and been happily soaking up US Colonial history, when I saw this film on TV the other day I immediately sat down to indulge. I first saw The Last of the Mohicans as an 11 year old (probably not really age-appropriate, but I’ve come to realise that I saw a lot of films at an age I maybe shouldn’t have, and it has done nothing to detract from my impeccable character) and absolutely loved it. I’ve always been interested in Native American cultures, and though this film doesn’t really delve that deep into any customs or beliefs, it still holds a special place in my heart. Of course, the inclusion of Daniel Day-Lewis is probably reason enough for many, but there’s much more to enjoy beyond Mr Day-Lewis’ ever-reliable acting abilities.

In the midst of the French-Indian War, Chingachgook (Russell Means) and his son Uncas (Eric Schweig) and adopted white son Hawkeye (Daniel Day-Lewis) are the last of the Mohican tribe, and are helping the British in their battles against the French. When a British convoy is attacked by traitor Mohawk Magua (Wes Studi), the Mohicans come to the aid of Major Duncan Heyward (Steven Waddington) who is escorting the two daughters of a British official, Cora (Madeleine Stowe) and Alice (Jodhi May) Munro. The group make their way to Fort William Henry, just as the battle between the British and French forces escalates.

OK, so before we delve too deeply into the belly of this latest Guilty Pleasure article, allow me to clear the air before the comments section starts filling up with a torrent of abuse such as:

STINKYRAT76
Alien Vs Predator f’n sucks. It’s worst den aids n’ shiz. U Suk! Lol. FML!

Yes, this following article does cover the mild entertainment that I receive from sitting down and watching the laughably inept intergalactic grudge match that is Alien Vs Predator, however I would like to state in my defence that I’m completely aware of its glaring inadequacies and shortcomings. No, Alien Vs Predator is not a good film, anybody who has ever seen it can vouch for that. It’s a paint by numbers production that takes two of cinemas most iconic monsters and proceeds to pit them in a sloppily constructed slugfest, eradicating everything that made these creatures so memorable in the first place. It’s a frequently frustrating experience to endure, often requiring a great deal of teeth-clenching to endure the insultingly lacklustre treatment these two beloved creations receive at the hands of Paul W.S. Anderson, a master of delivering entertaining yet completely brain-dead features. It’s almost the cinematic equivalent of taking two of your favourite foods, say a succulent steak and delicious bowl of chocolate ice-cream, then throwing them into a blender and grinding them into an unholy concoction. It may have been a good idea from the outset, but in the end, it’s a combination that just doesn’t work well together.

OK wait, wait. I can explain. I can explain! Look, I know just from the title of this article that I have probably cost myself any further writing privileges on For a Few Movies More – not to mention having lost any future movie debates with my friends by default –

“Well I think the best picture is between eith-”

“Umm Eden didn’t you once say you loooove Bring It On?”

“I never said I lov- “

“Yeah I think we’ve heard enough.”

- But to plead my case (even though I have already pleaded guilty), I don’t see this so much as a pleasurable movie experience but for some reason I have had countless guilty experiences watching it.

It is always the same story: I am sitting at home with very little to do and television becomes my last resort for entertainment (i.e. I was bored and lazy so I turned on the TV) and Bring It On happens to be one of those movies that has regular TV appearances, and for some reason every time it comes on TV I fall under its cheerleading charm. Here’s how it would go:

When most of us think of Santa Clause we picture the familiar image of a jolly fat man in red overalls, squeezing down chimneys so he can bring presents to all the good boys and girls all over the world. However the schlocky, Christmas-oriented slasher flick Silent Night, Deadly Night attempts to soil that image with its own unique interpretation of Santa. Instead of delivering toys and bringing cheer to those around him, SNDN’s Santa prefers far more unsavoury activities, namely mass murder. So controversial was the film’s depiction of a deranged Kris Kringle obsessed with punishing the ‘naughty’, that angry parents actually picketed out the front of movie theatres playing the film in an attempt to have it banned. I guess parents didn’t want their children to grow up under the mindset that if they misbehaved Santa would lop off their heads with an axe. I can understand in theory why that would upset some sensitive folks, however the beauty of Silent Night, Deadly Night is its ability to turn into a tongue-in-cheek comedy in the blink of an eye. The film is frequently so absurd that it’s impossible to take seriously even for a second.

Poor little Billy (Robert Brian Wilson) is one seriously messed up kid. But who can blame him. Like every other eight year old, his innocent love for Christmas is only matched by his desire to catch a glimpse of Santa himself on Christmas Eve. Well, unfortunately he gets more than he bargains for when a deranged murderous thief dressed in a Santa Clause outfit murders his parents in cold blood. Billy is lucky enough to escape intact, but after witnessing this horrid event, he’s understandably distraught. Things only get worse for poor Billy when he’s placed in an orphanage run by the iron-fisted Mother Superior, whose harsh methods of punishment teach Billy a powerful lesson — the naughty must be punished… Cut to ten years later and Billy, now a fully grown eighteen year old with the build of a professional wrestler, seems to have been cured of his disturbed mindset and is now happily working in the storeroom of a toy store. Things are looking up for Billy, that is until the lead up to Christmas begins its rapid approach. It seems Billy hasn’t left his demons completely behind. Flashbacks to his parent’s murders start plaguing his mind once more and leave him feeling scared and on edge. All this pent up fear and rage is finally unleashed when Billy’s boss makes an innocent yet colossal mistake, asking Billy to dress up as the store Santa. This is the final straw for Billy’s already fragile mind, it doesn’t take long for his mind to finally crack after donning the iconic Santa suit. Now thanks to his troubled upbringing, Billy truly believes he is St Nick himself, only instead of bringing happiness and joy to those around him, he has another single minded goal; to punish the naughty with extreme force.

Guilty Pleasures are, a lot of the time, a guilty pleasure because they are connected in some way to a memory. A person you watched it with, an experience while in the cinema, or maybe where you were at a certain time in your life. When The Saint came out I was in year 10, the Internet was just starting to get really big, and I kind of had a thing for guys with longish hair. I believe all of these have contributed to my love of this movie.

The Saint tells the story of Simon Templar (Val Kilmer), a go-to guy for high-profile heists, master of disguises and accents, and all-around Cool Guy. Wanting to do his One Last Job and Get Out of the Game, Simon takes a job to steal the formula for the fabled Cold Fusion from elusive Dr Emma Russell (Elisabeth Shue). Of course, Simon succeeds in the job, but also falls for the sexy but shy scientist. Which will he choose?!

The year was 2003 and I was but the tender age of 16. By this stage in my life, I was well and truly obsessed with the horror genre, particularly the Nightmare On Elm Street and Friday The 13^th series of films. These two series were my entry points into horror that in turn gave birth to my love for the genre. So imagine my surprise when there I was one day, minding my own business, watching some sort of horrible day time TV show when lo and behold, an advertisement for Freddy Vs Jason screened during the ad break. I couldn’t believe it, my dream movie was coming out and I didn’t even know it existed before this moment.

Now if I had to make a list of the top 10 most exciting moments in my life, this moment would make the list. I’m not kidding. It’s not as if I haven’t experienced anything more exciting since then, it’s just at that moment of my life, to my teenage mind, the concept of an ugly burnt guy with razors attached to his fingertips fighting an undead hockey mask-wearing zombie was the pinnacle of awesomeness.

The moment the trailer finished, I picked up my phone and called one of my friends. I proceeded to spew forth unintelligible ramblings to them about how this movie would be the greatest film ever made, it’ll be a cinematic masterpiece, we must see it opening day, etc. Now with that over, it was time to play the waiting game. I literally counted down the days with my ever-constant reminders of “There’s only five more days till Freddy Vs Jason comes out, only five more days!” I’m not sure if anyone else around me cared, but that didn’t faze me, nothing was going to dampen my enthusiasm.

The next couple of weeks flew by and before I knew it, opening day had arrived. That day my thoughts were only of the cinematic grudge match I would soon be treated to. Questions and curiosities whirled through my head all day — why would these two be fighting, how would they fight? Finally, the long awaited moment had arrived. I was surprised at how packed the cinema was. Could it be? Did other people actually care about these two characters as much as I did? Apparently yes. The lights dimmed, the previews rolled and finally, the film started…