Die.Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
The Day After Tomorrow [2004]
Call me stupid, but I got vired somewhere around the time computer animated wolves started to prowl ing the streets of a frozen New York. If you haven't seen this pack of poorly animated, triple jointed CGI wolves roaming the New York Public Library after dark, only moments after the city has fallen, then you've missed one of the many highlights from future AFI Top 100 winner 'The Day After Tomorrow'. Guess what, everyone who isn't earning a million dollars or more dies. Everyone. Whoops, I meant to say SPOILER ALERT but I didn't. HA! They all die! HA!
The whole of the movie is watching water change various states and attack people. Plus there's some scenes where Denis Quaid yells 'Not without my son!' and 'Al Gore 4 Ever!' with that god damn toothy grin of his. At some point he even hikes from DC to NY in the span of four montages, which is an impossibility without Journey playing in the background. I didn't hear Journey... not even Bon Jovi. Montage = Lies.
And I say fuck the smugness of his character. A scientific pariah until all of humanity starts dying from what he was babbling about, and suddenly the man's vindicated because his crazy guess? Here's a cool fact: one insane person advocates every insane cause on the planet - occasionally one of them are correct. Right now there's a guy screaming to heavens that milk is bad for your liver function. Is he right? I don't know. But it doesn't make them psychic. I predicted Mel Gibson was a Jew-hating asshole, does that make me better than you? Yes. Infinitely.
Back to the wolves. Much was made of these poor looking wolves in the reviews, so I'll limit my gripe to how they look like Picasso paintings covered in fur. My real problem is that these aren't Arctic wolves. If one of those wolves tore into my jugular, I'd go "Bitchin'!", then muster up my manliest death scream. Yes, I have various manly death screams saved for various moments. Guess what - all men practice them in the shower. I have plans on how I'm going to die, and it's not going to be like a pussy while I'm hitting a high note a la that lead singer from Supertramp.
Actually, if anyone's throat was ripped open by an Artic wolf in the middle of a snow storm, you'd think they'd have the common sense to make a quick peace with it. Because, despite it being a gloriously painful death, you'd have to admire the simplicity of it. Imagine you get knocked down to the ground, and right before you can react this face gets all up in your grill.
You're dead.
FUCK! You're dead. But as its eating you, you'd have to think: "Yeah. This makes sense. Arctic wolf. Snow. I get it. God really did have a plan." Because ARCTIC CREATURES and SUB ZERO TEMPERATURES somehow have been inexplicably linked in my mind.
But this film's crappy Picasso wolves are the kind that roam behind suburban strip malls, surviving off scraps thrown from a speeding SUV and consist mostly of a sweet blend of leftover cheeses from a Taco Bell fiesta combo.
God, I don't want to hark on it any further, but these things look like triple jointed abortions. They've got skeletal structures graced with evolutionary leaps thanks to Photoshop.
So what's the reel kill count? All forms of life between the 60th to 20th meridian. I won't sugar coat it, that's something like 10 billion people [not including all the animals besides Jersey wolves].
But we don't really see that. What we really see on screen are like two dozen. Thanks, film. Thanks for promising me the end of days and totally wasting my time . It's cool to have a multi million dollar movie where only 20-odd people I hadn't formed emotional attachments to get knocked off. The old couple who drown in "Titanic" got a bigger reaction, and they're only on screen for live five seconds. This film kills off countless species, millions of families, cities.... ahhh, but it's cool. No worries! These three R-tards are left.
I buy Jake Gyllenhall as a gay cowboy.
I do not buy him as the bag lady from Home Alone 2.
Dude, the guy on the right looks like his nards got ripped off in a fight. Gay. How tough can be when he was strong enough to survive the global apocalypse but can't man up to walk the three blocks to Rite Aid. Fuck him.
And when did the whole world stop using metric? Screw this film.
[Ed Note: I need a rating system.]
The whole of the movie is watching water change various states and attack people. Plus there's some scenes where Denis Quaid yells 'Not without my son!' and 'Al Gore 4 Ever!' with that god damn toothy grin of his. At some point he even hikes from DC to NY in the span of four montages, which is an impossibility without Journey playing in the background. I didn't hear Journey... not even Bon Jovi. Montage = Lies.
And I say fuck the smugness of his character. A scientific pariah until all of humanity starts dying from what he was babbling about, and suddenly the man's vindicated because his crazy guess? Here's a cool fact: one insane person advocates every insane cause on the planet - occasionally one of them are correct. Right now there's a guy screaming to heavens that milk is bad for your liver function. Is he right? I don't know. But it doesn't make them psychic. I predicted Mel Gibson was a Jew-hating asshole, does that make me better than you? Yes. Infinitely.
Back to the wolves. Much was made of these poor looking wolves in the reviews, so I'll limit my gripe to how they look like Picasso paintings covered in fur. My real problem is that these aren't Arctic wolves. If one of those wolves tore into my jugular, I'd go "Bitchin'!", then muster up my manliest death scream. Yes, I have various manly death screams saved for various moments. Guess what - all men practice them in the shower. I have plans on how I'm going to die, and it's not going to be like a pussy while I'm hitting a high note a la that lead singer from Supertramp.
Actually, if anyone's throat was ripped open by an Artic wolf in the middle of a snow storm, you'd think they'd have the common sense to make a quick peace with it. Because, despite it being a gloriously painful death, you'd have to admire the simplicity of it. Imagine you get knocked down to the ground, and right before you can react this face gets all up in your grill.
You're dead. FUCK! You're dead. But as its eating you, you'd have to think: "Yeah. This makes sense. Arctic wolf. Snow. I get it. God really did have a plan." Because ARCTIC CREATURES and SUB ZERO TEMPERATURES somehow have been inexplicably linked in my mind.
But this film's crappy Picasso wolves are the kind that roam behind suburban strip malls, surviving off scraps thrown from a speeding SUV and consist mostly of a sweet blend of leftover cheeses from a Taco Bell fiesta combo.
God, I don't want to hark on it any further, but these things look like triple jointed abortions. They've got skeletal structures graced with evolutionary leaps thanks to Photoshop.
So what's the reel kill count? All forms of life between the 60th to 20th meridian. I won't sugar coat it, that's something like 10 billion people [not including all the animals besides Jersey wolves].
But we don't really see that. What we really see on screen are like two dozen. Thanks, film. Thanks for promising me the end of days and totally wasting my time . It's cool to have a multi million dollar movie where only 20-odd people I hadn't formed emotional attachments to get knocked off. The old couple who drown in "Titanic" got a bigger reaction, and they're only on screen for live five seconds. This film kills off countless species, millions of families, cities.... ahhh, but it's cool. No worries! These three R-tards are left.
I buy Jake Gyllenhall as a gay cowboy.I do not buy him as the bag lady from Home Alone 2.
Dude, the guy on the right looks like his nards got ripped off in a fight. Gay. How tough can be when he was strong enough to survive the global apocalypse but can't man up to walk the three blocks to Rite Aid. Fuck him.
And when did the whole world stop using metric? Screw this film.
[Ed Note: I need a rating system.]
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