Debate Team Captains Unite!
Debate Team Captains Unite!
Our search to find The Worst Film Ever Made about the Classical World has forced us to confront the very unpleasant reality that sometimes a movie is bad on a molecular level: which is to say that the very atoms that make up the celluloid it's printed on stink worse than an outhouse at a baked beans and pond scum pot luck dinner held at Mike Huckabee's church. Such is the case with Clash of the Titans.
To be honest, and I promise not to make a habit of that, I've only seen CotT once and that was a very long time ago (back in my teenage years when I was so happy to have HBO that I'd watch anything that turned up on it – including that movie in which Gallagher saves a girl from a cult), and all that I really remember about it was that it was bad.
So why then does CotT stink on a sub-atomic scale? It's certainly not due to the excellent claymation special effects created by the late Ray Harryhausen. So, is it the fact that the writers played fast and loose with Greek mythology (one of the central monsters* is taken from Norse mythology)? Is it the less-than-stellar acting turned in by the supporting cast? Is it the terribly bad writing? Well, yes, it's all of those things, but the real crime of CotT is that this is the movie from which most people under the age of forty know Sir Lawrence Oliver from. By way of a pinful example, one night Vienna and I were watching Rebecca when Vienna turned to me and said "Hey, isn't that the old guy from Clash of the Titans who ran around in a sheet and played with dolls?"
Just in case any of you had planned on a night of restful, nightmare-free, sleep, you should know that a remake of Clash of the Titans is scheduled for release in 2010. Zeusdamnit!
*To quote Lenny and Squigtones, "There are no gratuitous monsters in this movie. A monster only shows up when it's called for. Like, someone might say 'Hey, there's a monster.'"
... and knob-gobbling, anti-American hose-wad. That's what Eddie Walker is. What Eddie Walker was, was the principal of Irmo High School in Columbia, SC, until he resigned rather than to allow a gay-straight alliance club to be formed on the hollowed ground where he helped to prepare a generation of inbreds for careers at Costco. According to Eddie Walker, his decision to
quit like a little bitch resign was "a personal choice based on my professional beliefs and religious convictions."And had nothing to do with the fact that he is a half-wit who spends his free time spreading monkey pox to barnyard animals and who shouldn't be scrubbing the toilets at an academic institution, let alone attempting to oversee one.
By the way, cross-humper's religious convictions didn't conflict with having the ROTC on campus. If you find yourselves with some free time on your hands, why not troll on over to some of the comment sections wherein brain-damaged huckelbastards are defending Walker Texas-Sized Bigot and remind 'em of that.
Ahhh, it's good to vent.
Damn, Pops McCain can't remember who runs Iran
I hope to be back posting soon, btw.
"You and i [sic] will likely disagree on something, [sic] conflict is inevitable. What matters is how we attain unity and harmony within the conflict."
- Kat Swift
Stanley Moon: You're a nutcase! You're a bleedin' nutcase!
George Spiggott: They said the same of Jesus Christ, Freud, and Galileo.
Stanley Moon: They said it of a lot of nutcases too.
If you haven't already, please be sure to read Part One of this thrilling Viking saga: Not that this'll make any more sense to you, but if misery loves company, then I'm throwing a block party.
And now a few words about Green Party Presidential Wannabe Kat Swift (whose website seems to have undergone some changes including the addition of a video of here dressed as a sort of hippie Wonder Woman):
I bet if I met Kat Swift, I'd like her. OK, maybe not like, but I wouldn't hate her. She means well. Which is to say that she's basically a well meaning Hippie who thinks that war, and poverty, and racism, and sexism, and cutting down giant redwoods in order to turn them into spears with which to kill polar are all bad things. And I agree with her (except on that things, as I think we can all concur that seeing a polar bear impaled by some sort of giant tree-missile would be fuckin' awesome!). I mean, she's not qualified to President, but that never stopped George Bush.
So what's my beef with Kat Swift? I mean other than my well known dislike of Hippies? If you take the time to scan Kat's biography, you'll find the following under "Education Background""
"...aromatherapy, herbalism ... energy & body therapy techniques"
One of the few simple pleasures I've managed to enjoy over the last few years is looking down my nose at the Republican Party for their distain of Science. Thanks to the Green Party's support of Kat "Smell this ginseng and heal your inner child" Swift, I have lost the right to openly mock the likes of Mike Huckabee and the entire Dugger Clan for being superstitious peons.
Look, I'm there are a lot of decent, well meaning people out there who think that the Earth is 8,000 years old and that life begins two weeks before conception. If I can take the time out of my busy day to mock these imbeciles for their gross stupidity, shouldn't I at least offer the same opportunity to someone from my own end of the political spectrum?
While the majority of Americans got to step inside a voting booth to pick the person who will lead this country into a war with I ran, I had to leave work by six in order to make it down to the Ethical Society Building in order to attend the Philadelphia Chapter of the Green Party's Presidential Caucus, last Tuesday. I was there to caucus for "No Candidate" (Don't you Republicrats whish you had that option?), but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I arrived at six-thirty, which is when caucusing was supposed to begin, just in time to be informed that the meeting was running on "Green Party Time" and that I might be sitting around for a while. That was the first in a series of baaaaad omens. If we can't start a motherscratchin' meeting on time, what chance do we ever have of capturing the White House?
The caucus organizer had set up four table (one in each corner of the auditorium) on which information about each candidate was laid out along with snacks. If the mention of snacks just made you hungry, don't worry, you're about to lose your appetite. Let's meet the candidates I had to chose from (I'll be going in the order of the tables; starting at "five o'clock" and moving clockwise)
Jesse Johnson is a former Country Line-Dance (I'm not sure if that word is hyphenated or not, and I don't plan on looking it up as that might entail catching a glimpse of photos of Country Line-Dancing) Instructor and Comedian from West Virginia. Well, that pretty much qualifies him to answer the "Red Phone" at 3 am in my book. "Mr. President, the Chinese are threatening to attack unless someone can teach them to do the "Achy Breaky". They're also demanding that someone do a painfully unfunny monologue about how New York and LA are different and some poop jokes."
Cynthia McKinney, whose table was next, is my dream candidate. You know, the dream in which the Greens nominate a deranged-looking woman who thinks Bush may've been involved in 9/11, slaps cops, and has something in common with Mel Gibson.
Kat Swift is... well Kat Swift is too much of an embarrassment to write about here. Like McKinney, she really deserves her own post. And that's just what she's going to get – next time. I get the feeling it might take me a while to tell this story.
Authenticity: -89 Out Of 100
Entertainment: 90 Out of 100
Gayness Factor: Fuh-laaaaay-ming! (Not that there's anything wrong with that)
In our search for The Worst Movie about the Classical World Ever Made it's important to be like the Spartans and not leave our buddy's behind…and trust me, the Spartans rarely left their buddies' behind (Not that there's anything wrong with that), so let's have a frank discussion about
From the perspective of historical accuracy, 300 is roughly equivalent to making a film about the American Revolution in which George Washington has an invisible robot friend. Yes, there was a Persian invasion of Greece led by Emperor Xerxes; yes, 300 Spartans (along with several other groups of Greeks, including 1,500 Thespians) held the pass at Thermopylae against overwhelming enemy numbers, and yes, a Greek named Dienekes, when told that the Persian arrows would blot out the sun said "Then we shall fight in the shade". But the similarities between the story on the screen and what went down in real life pretty much end there.
While searching for a decent site to link the Thermopylae reference above to, I stumbled upon this review in Archaeology Online that does an excellent job (much better than I could do) of pointing out the numerous problems with 300 (although it does fail to mention the true hero of the Persian War: Themistocles), so let me just say that 300 is probably the Gayest movie ever made (Not that there's anything wrong with that). C'mon; oily, barely dressed men struggling with each other? That's Gayer than the closeted Republican Senator currently tapping his foot in a toilet stall (OK, there is something wrong with that) Just about every Gay dude I know owns at least one copies of this move: some own two, just in case something happens to the first one.
From a straight-male perspective, apart from reminding me that I really need to get to the gym and drop about fifty pounds, I have to admit that this film is actually a lot of fun. Sure, the acting is wooden; the characters are, at best, two dimensional; and the plot is hardly a plot, but who doesn't enjoy * watching limbs getting hacked from bodies, geysers of blood, and death-by-forced-cliff-diving?
* "suggestive eye movement"???
Onward, ever onward we march in our quest to find The Worst Movie about the Classical World Ever Made.
Now, before I launch into a postmodernist deconstruction of 300, I'd like to say a word about Quo Vadis (mainly because it was on TCM the other night). Despite being set in Imperial Rome during the reign of Nero, Quo Vadis is a Jesus movie - and a pretty bad Jesus movie at that (during the 50's a lot of Jesus movies where set in Rome so that the studio could up the titillation factor by showing slave girls dancing lasciviously). Quo Vadis is one of those films that whatever shadow groups rates movies always feels the need to assign at least 3 stars to. This is due to the prevailing misconception that filming making was more difficult prior to the release of Midnight Cowboy because filmmakers had to imply everything from sex to special effects that were impossible to film given the limited technologies of the era. If this theory were anymore bullshit it would be Ben Stein. It's much easier to imply something than to take the actual trouble to film it. Do you think that Deliverance would be as disturbing if the Bandit pulled up in his Trans Am and asked Joe Buck where Ned Beatty was, and Buck replied with "I dunno; getting' raped by hillbillies, I guess." Have you ever seen the "edited for television" version of Marathon Man? You'd think Enrico Salvatore "Ratso" Rizzo had just swung by an old Nazi's basement office to get his teeth cleaned.
Shit Luther, now I'm too angry to review 300, so let me just slip out, grab some lunch and maybe a little nap, and I'll post a little latter, OK?
I know you're all chomping at your collective bits to read my thoughts on 300, and to find out what happened at the Philly Green Party caucus, but you'll just have to wait a little longer because the latest issue of Biblical Archaeological Review is out, and not only is it a cornucopia of weirdness (featuring an article on the Ark of the Covenant causing Erectile Dysfunction - which explains "Flaccid Phallus Philistines" on the cover - and an angry letter from a Creationist), but it also gives us a chance to compete in the monthly decathlon of lackluster humor that is THE BAR C(R)APTION CONTEST.