Consider for a second that New York is Hell. Perhaps as punishment to having previously admitted my possible willingness to move to the Valley, the “concrete jungle where dreams are made of” has been engulfed with the most vicious cold the city has experienced since Bush was re-elected. Even in this wicked frigidity, life must go on and so must the show.

Lady Levy, resourceful as she is, scored $10 tickets for herself, her man, Miss Hayward, the soon-to-be future Mr. Hayward and myself to see Carrie Fisher’s one woman Broadway show, “Wishful Drinking.” I can’t think of a better venue than Studio 54 to attend a show about adultery, addiction, Hollywood in the 70’s, notoriety and the various outcomes of climbing in bed with the gays. The five of us passed the once nearly impenetrable threshold and filed upstairs to the infamous balcony where probably half of our contemporaries were conceived. Lo and behold, $10 didn’t relegate us to the top row, but fourth row seats in the front mezzanine. That doesn’t happen everyday.

And neither does seeing a veteran Hollywood celebrity truthfully and humorously recount her ridiculous life story with grace and poignancy. As Carrie herself will tell you, you can’t make this shit up. I was ever so slightly too young to experience the universal male appeal of Princess Leah in the purple and gold bikini fantasy (I was more of a Phoebe Cates climbing out of the pool in “Fast Times” kind of guy) and the only notion I had of “Postcards from the Edge” was repeatedly coming across the plasticized VHS cover in the video store while hunting for “Weekend At Bernie’s.” So almost everything I learned last night was new, but even if I had known a lot more about her journey, I still probably would have found the show just as enchanting.

The successful trick to being a good writer is writing what you know. Hence, one of many reasons “Minding My Mouth” does not focus on politics or fiscal conservation. Carrie has taken herself, her most familiar subject, and transformed her tale into a highly entertaining, acerbic spin on the highs and lows of her Hollywood upbringing and ongoing bipolar depression. The cozy living room set and silk pajamas she sports both read as a metaphor for the warm way an older, wiser, more cynical Carrie invites you into her life to casually but eloquently lay it all out on the coffee table. Nothing is off limits: The gay BFF that died mysteriously next to her in bed, the possibly incestuous nature of her daughter’s current love interest, and the enduring stigma of “galaxy snatch.” Indoctrinating the latter into my vocabulary was worth the $10 alone.

So naturally, after seeing a show partly about the dangers of alcohol, we thought we’d finish the night with a few glasses of red at our favorite nearby wine bar. Carrie may have written the book on being a Hollywood wild child, but this baby knows all the words.

Title:
The Last Starfighter (1984)
Rated: PG
Written by:
Jonathan Betuel
Directed by:
Nick Castle
Starring:
Lance Guest as Alex
Robert Preston as Centauri
Catherine Mary Stewart as Maggie
Dan O'Herlihy as Grig
Barbara Bosson as Jane
Norman Snow as Xur

By Bo Ransdell from Last Blog on the Left

Pre-screening memories: Sure, the plot seems familiar now:  A young man, trapped by circumstances of economics and class, struggles to be something more, something different.  He knows there’s an “out there,” a world that he could conquer if he could only get free and find the opportunity.  That’s the situation that Alex Rogan (Lance Guest) represents, and, to an eleven year old boy in 1984, it was a projection, quite literally, of everything that a pre-teen felt.   

Add to that healthy mix of angst the element of technology, specifically the home video game revolution, and you’ll find that same pre-teen, filled with a vague wanderlust, debating with his friends in the schoolyard whether the Atari 2600 translation of Donkey Kong could hold a candle to the arcade version (it can’t) or if Yar’s Revenge was the best in the 2600 library (it was).  So, when a movie made escape possible through the medium of video games, the scales had lifted from my eyes.  This was a movie I had to see.   

I saw The Last Starfighter a lot as a kid, where it found a lot of screenings thanks to premium cable channels and a brand-spanking-new VCR.  I still have the tape on which The Last Starfighter resides, alongside The Terminator.  Even as a child, I enjoyed juxtaposition.  At every viewing of the film, it reinforced the idea that you can truly excel, if only given the opportunity to do so, and it’s a belief I still subscribe to.

New memories: Seeing it as an adult, it’s hard to quiet the thrilled child still inside, the one who still believes everything is possible if given the chance and that Yar’s Revenge is the best Atari 2600 game.  Roughly halfway through my mature, well-considered viewing of The Last Starfighter, I gave up trying to silence him.  This was and remains a movie that encourages a sense of wonder, a sense of possibility, and, if you remembered it as a special movie when you were young, seek it out.  The optimism of the film is there, and a real sense of magic, managed by genuine emotion thanks to a very talented cast.  Sure, the effects, revolutionary at the time, haven’t aged so well, but they fit the imagination of the movie.  And it’s that part, the spirit of opportunity in the face of adversity that makes this a treasure. 

Download Natsukashi’s ‘The Last Starfighter’ podcast here

or venture to our online player below:

Our featured guest: Catherine Mary Stewart

Catherine Mary Stewart returns to Natsukashi to revisit yet another indelible role from her resume.

She had first joined us for a chat about Mischief and also spoke about her other cult classic of 1984, Night of the Comet, but Last Starfighter hold a special place in her memories for reasons she recounts for us in the podcast.

After taking a stretch to focus more on being a mom, Catherine is reigniting her career with roles Rising Stars, a film with Fischer that she describes as an anti-American Idol, and a just-announced A Christmas Snow, which she details on her Facebook page (where she personally connects with her fans). You can also follow her at her blog.

Catherine is always a fun, engaging guest and has several tales about working on the set of The Last Starfighter, and we thank her for letting us share them with her.

So I little while ago, the unbelievable world of Polish movie posters was brought to my attention. It really is unreal. Basically it’s different Polish artists with their own versions and interpretations of movie posters. They cover films from the world over and they really are fabulous pieces of art. Here’s a sample of a couple of my favorites, there are countless posters that I actually love, but here are a few:

*All these photos are taken from www.polishposter.com – explore the site yourself and order copies, as most of the posters are limited editions.

Artist/designer: Andrzej Krajewski

Artist/designer: Leszek Zebrowski

Artist/designer: Leszek Zebrowski

Artist/designer: Jakub Erol

Artist/designer: Leszek Zebrowski

Artist/designer: Leszek Zebrowski

]]> http://stepback.wordpress.com/2010/01/15/weekend-at-bernies/ Fri, 15 Jan 2010 04:36:32 +0000 stepback http://stepback.wordpress.com/2010/01/15/weekend-at-bernies/

Hidden location over looking Melbourne, we partied L.A style. Radical.

To say that Vampire Weekend’s newest album Contra is like Paul Simon’s Graceland isn’t exactly a hard comparison to make, but it’s not a bad thing at all. I get the same excited feeling that I get from listening to Graceland and Vampire Weekend’s eponymous first album.

To be fair, the album is a departure in the sense that it uses more electronic noises. While their first album made me feel like I was in Cape Cod, this album takes me feel like I’m on a preppy beach vacation sponsored by J. Crew and Hennessy. What I love about this album is the imagery. It’s the combination of sounds and lyrics that seem so programmatic. I want this to be the soundtrack of a movie that I want to direct. The movie would be part Harold and Maude, part Harold and Kumar and all Weekend at Bernie’s 2 (whatever that means).

Check out this track first: Diplomat’s Son

            Greetings “Big Lovers!”  It’s that time again.  After the obligatory year-long hiatus that has become trademark for HBO Series, our favorite polygamist family are back to grace our television screens with their Heavenly Father-loving presence.  So, without further adieu, gather up all your wives, broil up some crab legs, and let’s get on with the show, shall we?

            Big Love’s premiere episode began with a brand new opener and corresponding theme song.  The show’s producers have decided to ditch The Beach Boys’, sappily sweet and jubilantly jolly, “God Only Knows,” for the sad emo sounds of Animal Kingdom’s “Bright Lights.”  Really?  An ultra hip indie rock song as an opener for a television show about uptight polygamists in Utah?  Call me a fuddy duddy, but I am just not that comfortable with my Henricksons having cooler taste in music than I do.

            In addition to the new song, the old opening sequence has also been unceremoniously dumped.  No longer will we be treated to images of the Henrickson family holding hands as they enjoy ice skating through a sea of white, or chowing down on a bountiful outdoor meal under a sun-filled sky.  Instead, each of the four main characters are now shown amidst a sea of black, falling.  Not just falling, but falling “dramatically.” It was almost as if the entire cast of Big Love had taken an acting class together, in which they were given directions such as “fall sad,”  “fall happy,” “fall contemplative,” “fall constipated,” and we are watching their responses.

                  Remember back when The Sopranos was still on the air, and before each season began, the producers would release a promo poster featuring the entire cast?  (Man, do I miss that show!)  Remember how television pundits across the nation would use up pages and pages of magazine space analyzing the poster and its implications for the upcoming season?  Well, I could only guess that the producers of Big Love were going for the same effect here.  But for me, the new somber-toned opener was a tad esoteric, more than a bit depressing, and just plain over-ambitious.

            Overall, the series’ excessive ambition was a problem that plagued the entire episode, which seemed to be heading a million directions at once, making it difficult for the viewer to become particularly invested in any one story.  Nevertheless, there were some intriguing stories presented here, which definitely deserve their due.  Here are some of the new plotlines that jump started Season 4:

Plot 1: Weekend at Roman’s

            Although this will undoubtedly make me sound morbid as heck, this was by far my favorite plotline of the night.  When we last saw The Prophet of Juniper Creek (played with “dirty old man” goodness by Harry Dean Stanton), he had just been smothered under the weight of a pillow held by Bill’s brother, Joey and was, presumably, dead.

            Now, Roman is missing.  And yet, for a dead guy, he seems surprisingly adept at investing.  Apparently the aforementioned corpse has recently come into large sums of money – said money having been purportedly deposited into a new bank account opened in Roman’s name by his daughter and Bill’s scheming adulterer of a second wife, Nikki Grant (Chloe Sevigny).  As a result, the FBI are literally invading upon the lives of our characters in search of the errant Roman, raiding the compound and harassing Nikki, who, of course, denies all accusations against her. 

            When a hysterical Adaleen Grant (Mary Kay Place) calls Nikki about a power outage on the compound, her daughter reluctantly purchases a generator and heads to her estranged mother’s doorstep.  Nikki drops off the generator and turns to leave when her mother implores her to remain for a BLT sandwich. (This seemed to be an odd lunch choice for a bunch of religious extremists, so my Spidey Sense was immediately tingling by this point.)  Nevertheless, when Adaleen requested that Nikki go down to the cellar to “bring home the bacon,” Nikki obediently complied.

            I instantly expected Momma Grant to lock Nikki in the cellar, but she surprised me and didn’t.  What happened next was far more interesting.  When Nikki reaches the end of the dark creepy compound basement and moves the slabs of meat out of the way, she finds herself face-to-face with a Roman Grantsicle.  Yep, it appears Roman Grant has been reduced from the living leader of the Juniper Creek LDS community to a very realistic Madame Tussaud wax figure of Harry Dead Stanton, complete with icicles hanging from its nose.  And if that’s not dead, I don’t know what is.

            When Nikki informs her brother Alby (Matt Ross) about their father’s death and subsequent baconey burial, he can barely restrain his unadulterated glee at the news.  “No, you be sad!  It’s very, very sad,” Nikki scolds self-righteously.

            And yet, Nikki is not gone for two seconds before Alby and his Lady MacBeth-esque wife, Laura (Anne Dudek) begin their “Daddy is Dead Celebration Party!”  Laura, ever the rebel, goes as far as to remove two cans of Coors Light from their otherwise empty fridge!  (Apparently, when stocking up on the LDS-verboten alcohol, the Grants neglected to purchase any real food.  Perhaps Abaleen should send over some of her famous BLT sandwiches?)

                 Empty fridge aside, it is Laura who triumphantly utters the very words that make up the episode’s title, “Free at Last.”  Alby, whose fur-free baby face does mustache-twirling villany like no other, is slightly more restrained than his wife.  Instead of jumping for joy, Nikki’s bad seed brother calmly sits back in his chair, clasps his hands together and says tonelessly, “My destiny is filled.  God will surely punish those who block my path to Glory.”

            Later that evening, Alby and Laura are seen driving together in a car that bears some very precious cargo.  “Did you see that?  He just gave me a mean look, because I’m going to be the prophet now,” explains Alby childishly, as he stares intently at our favorite frozen LDS leader in the backseat.

            Our well-traveled human ice sculpture pops up again later, somewhat thawed out, on the grounds where the Henrickson’s new casino is set to open in just a few days.  There he sits, soaking up some sun, while lying a comfy beach chair, in what must be a send up to that classic 80’s dead-guy flick “Weekend at Bernie’s.”  And pardon me for saying that, just like the titular Bernie Lomax, Roman Grant seems to be having way more fun dead than he ever did alive.

            Fortunately, as always, Bill (played by the still sexy Bill Paxton) is there to save the day.  With Nikki in toe, he carts the Roaming Roman away in his car, presumably toward a proper burial.  En route, he and Nikki, who we learn have not screwed since he found out she was cheating on him with the DA investigating her father last season, share a moment.  Bill provides comfort, delicately taking his second wife’s hand, when the heretofore stoic Nikki finally breaks down and cries over the death of her not-so-paternal daddy.

Plot 2: Mother and Child

            On the homefront, the Henrickson clan is adjusting to yet another new addition to their already insanely large family: namely, Nikki’s 14-year old daughter, Cara Lynn.  Fearing that her former husband J.J. will enter her daughter into the Joy Book, making her eligible for marriage at the compound, Nikki takes Cara Lynn into her home, and hides her from authorities.  Cara Lynn, who desires the opportunity to attend public school, agrees.  We learn from Nikki, that Cara Lynn has done exceedingly well on her placement exams, and will start public school a grade ahead of other girls her age.  (Gee, the Juniper Creek educational system must be awesome.  When can I enroll?)

            When J.J. storms into the Henrickson’s backyard and demands the return of his daughter, Bill, ever the peacekeeper, brokers a compromise.  He proposes Cara Lynn be returned to J.J on weekends, provided that she be allowed to attend school and stay with the Henricksons during the week.  J.J. reluctantly agrees, and actually seems like a pretty good dad in his initial interaction with his daughter.  He denies designs on placing Cara Lynn in the Joy Book, and even offers to re-enroll her in school at the compound, if that is what she wants.  Cara Lynn promises J.J. that she has every intention of returning to him once the school year ends.  She even agrees to go with him to Kansas when he moves there the following summer.

Plot 3: Itchy and Scratchy Henrickson

            In my least favorite plot point of the night, Ma and Pa Henrickson (played by, Grace Zabriski and Bruce Dern, respectively) continued their three season trend of finding new and increasingly less inventive ways to try and kill one another.  Frank, for his part, hired goons with nooses to accost Lois when he picked her up in his car.  Lois, in return, put a gun to Frank’s head.  Later, after a tedious tussle in Lois’s new home, the couple came to a temporary truce, agreeing to become business partners in Lois’s new hare-brained (or should I say “bird-brained”) profit-making scheme, which involves buying parrots for $30 and selling them for $700.  Here’s hoping that these two play nice for at least a few more episodes.

Plot 4: I Want Crab Legs!

            In the season opener, we find that the often-underestimated Margene (played by the adorable Ginnifer Goodwin) has become overwhelmed with juggling her new jewelry making career and the public relations aspects associated with opening the Blackfoot Magic Casino.  As we learned last year, Margene exhibited quite a bit of natural talent when it came to schmoozing the Blackfoot people.  I love that the once-juvenile and needy Margene is finally coming into her own as a capable and intelligent woman this season. 

              Margene encourages Barb (Jean Tripplehorn) to take over her responsibilities regarding the Casino, claiming that doing so will help the First Wife regain the confidence she lost after being excommunicated from her church.  And yet, Barb, typically the universal caretaker, and quintessential Super Mom, finds herself to be lacking in the social skills and personable warmth necessary to handle the Henrickson’s newest business partners.  She butts heads with them in many ways, most notably regarding the food choice for the casino’s opening night.  Barb demands that they serve crab legs, apparently a main stay on every Mormon family dinner table, while the Blackfoot tribe prefers salmon. 

                 When Bill is way-layed on the casino’s opening night, and the Casino’s would-be headliner Kenny Rogers can’t make it there in time to perform, Margene encourages Barb to make the opening night speech.  Barb initially looks incredibly nervous and awkward, standing in front of the gaming crowd.  However, she ultimately does an admirable job welcoming her new customers to the casino.  She ends her short speech, by introducing her son Ben’s band to the crowd, as it performs a slightly pitchy karaoke-esque cover of Rogers’ once chart-topping The Gambler.

                 Judging by the impressive amount of green stashed in the metal box exhibited to the family at the end of the night by the security staff, Barb’s awkward introduction did little to diminish the new casino’s giant profit margin.  All in all, the casino’s opening night appeared to be a successful one.

Plot 1 (Reprise): Dead Guys Don’t Always Wear Black

             Unfortunately, when it comes to the Henricksons, if something appears too good to be true, it probably is.  Despite, the Casino’s opening night success, angry Blackfoot Tribe representatives confront Bill at the end of the evening.  Holding Roman’s iconic white hat aloft like the talisman of evil it clearly is, the tribe representatives demand answers.  It appears that “Dead Roman” is having some trouble keeping himself buried.

                I have to say, this part rang just a bit untrue for me.  Are we really supposed to believe that the Blackfoots would instantly identify that hat as belonging to Roman Grant.  Sure, he was wearing it in his Wanted Poster, but doesn’t everyone in Utah own at least one white cowboy hat?  Come on now . . .  

              That aside, the re-emergence of the white hat was an intriguing end to an uneven episode.  Here’s hoping it symbolizes the promise of better episodes to come.

The other day I heard a couple of radio pundits speculating that Osama Bin Laden is dead and believe that our government knows it, as do many other governments, and Osama’s groupies.  They posited several reasons for making us (the common people) think he is still alive, one of those being that Bin Laden’s followers could drag him out when they want to issue another threat, or make a tape, etc.  It reminded me of that old movie Weekend at Bernie’s and I decided a remake was in order…in very bad taste, of course.

check out Humor Blogs

First of all, thank you for all of your great suggestions to help me update my blogroll. I love having a lot to read, and I’m not so great at keeping it up to date.  So thanks for all of the fun new blogs!  If you can think of any other blogs I should be reading, send them my way!

I had such a great weekend!  Friday was a friend’s birthday and we had a Weekend at Bernie’s themed party Friday night.  Saturday we had an ugly holiday sweater party.  Neither of us had anything, but we had fun coming up with ideas.  Solomon was representing Chanukah all the way (and reminded me of Flava Flav) and I found a Frosty the Snowman night shirt.  Plus jingle bell earrings, of course.  We had such a fun weekend, thanks M’Ville!

Sunday was a day to relax and just veg out!  I got in a nice run in the morning in all of the slush, and the Pats played the Bills.  I ate too.  A lot.  It was awesome.  I also got in some stretching and ab work on my brand new yoga mat!

Dennis at Aurorae Yoga Mats offered to send me a mat to try out.  These mats are different from others I have tried and seen, so I was really excited to give it a try.  Aurorae mats are ultra thick (1/4”), and extra long (6 feet) plus they have an icon which serves as a focal point for your practice.

I loved how thick this was, and how soft the material felt on my hands, feet and knees.  I also loved how it molded to my feet and hands as I practiced.  The mat is nice and sticky, so it rolls up and stays rolled.  Plus, it is really easy to take care of.  My only problem is a slipped I little bit, but I always slip when I do yoga, so I guess it’s to be expected.

Another great feature is that the mat comes in different colors, which help you to define your inner self.

I received a Solar mat, which I think is quite fitting for me.

Look how long it is!

Yup, Rufio practiced his yoga too (his doga?)

Want to try it out for yourself?

Aurorae offered to give one reader their choice of any color mat!  Here’s how to enter:

1. Leave a comment telling me which color mat most fits your personality and why.
2. Leave a comment about what your favorite yoga pose is and why!
3. Follow me on Twitter (@liveloveeatplay) and Aurorae (@AuroraeYoga) and tweet about this contest, making sure you mention us both.  Leave a comment that you have done so!
4. Link back to this contest on your blog and leave me a comment that you did.
5. Become a fan of Aurorae on Facebook and leave me a comment telling me you did.

You have until the 28th to enter!  Good luck!

Don’t forget about my Wusthof knife and shears giveaway either!

Holy shit, if there’s a film with US military propaganda more blatant than the likes of Top Gun, show it to me, because I haven’t seen it. I have distinct childhood memories of watching this movie and immediately thinking, “being a fighter pilot would be cool; where’s the Air Force Academy?”. If that’s not successful marketing and branding, there’s no such thing! This movie is the standard.

And don’t be fooled. I am not criticizing the film-makers and producers at all. Their influential messages betray an admirable skill! They zapped me good. And it was hard to convince me in those days (let alone today, muahaha), because I was so independently driven to purchase commercial toys and movies and video games, that clearly they had to use wily box office schemes to get past my…. parents’ limited income critical consumer taste.

But again, I’m sure you’re asking yourself why THIS movie, why not 300 or Rambo 200x or Transformers or whatever other great US comrade-based stuff has been piped down the Holywood tubes as of late. And what “scheme” am I even talking about? Simple — this movie is still effectively manipulative now (despite being unbelievably terrible in a non-appealing way — whereas terrible-but-appealing would be, say… Weekend at Bernie’s or maybe Steven Seagal movies), due to the music. Don’t you think the catchy pop single on the soundtrack, “Highway to the Danger Zone”, is supremely rocking? Ahaha, well I sure hope not — because then you’d be a complete and utter tool! No, it’s a successfully evocative film because of Harold Faltermeyer’s keyboard score. And Tom Skerritt’s mustache.

As example, take any one of these brilliant score pieces, like say… oh I don’t know, “Memories”. With this masterwork, does Faltermeyer not prove himself to be the J.S. Bach of the mid-late 1980s? I mean, the synthesizer is like the organ or clavier of the latter half of the 20th century, is it not? Now sure, calling someone the J.S. Bach of the ’80s may not actually mean anything at all, in a scholarly musical sense. Nay, all I meant is that this song kinda can remind you of a Bach piece. AGAIN, BY NO ACADEMIC ASSESSMENT, or even fine musical taste, but simply by virtue of the emotional engagement. It sounds like church music, from when church involved tangible spiritual experience — and was gothic and frightening. *

And hey, really, it’s kind of chuckle-worthy ironic that Faltermeyer had to write intense musical propaganda for the Reagan war machine, whereas Bach had to write intense musical propaganda for the Church… and…

*sigh* Okay, look, I’m obviously not an academic or objective scholar by any stretch. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only: to plug military films!

I assume this track is titled, “Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooose!”

_______

*Going by the choral music they composed for church in Bach’s lifetime time, we can assume it was a melancholy, slightly macabre era, but the graceful bloodlust found in the works of Palestrina and Byrd is a whole ‘nother realm of sadness.

“The Rough Patch”

November 9th, 2009

One of the intriguing elements of How I Met Your Mother is its use of skewed memory, as what we’re seeing is not reality so much as it is Future Ted’s perception of reality. In some instances, the show uses it for subtle jokes such as the opening one here, when Future Ted manufactures a preposterous story for how a pornographic movie happened to find its way into the VCR. In other instances, however, the show creates more of what I’d call gags, like how Robin’s older boyfriend at Thanksgiving was played by Orson Bean so as to exaggerate his age for the sake of the story being told. These are unique because, unlike those established mainly through voiceover, they become a running gag in their own right.

Last week’s “Bagpipes” used a combination of the two in the running gag of sexual noises emerging as bagpipe music, which was clever and underplayed. However, “The Rough Patch” fails because it uses such a gag at the heart of a fairly substantial bit of character development, one which is not capable of transcending the pop cultural stereotypes. Putting Barney into a fat suit as a one-off gag is fine, but using it as a representation of an integral piece of character development feels both false (in that the exaggeration seems too central) and rushed (in that the story doesn’t feel like it has come to its conclusion).

It results in an episode that is wholly dissatisfying, a failure both in terms of its premise and in its execution.

If we go back to “Slapsgiving,” where we last saw this type of exaggeration for a long term story, it was a joke that was always present but never really important: it was a gag, something that could help contribute to the chaos of sorts surrounding Lily’s first Thanksgiving dinner. Here, however, Barney’s fat suit was the sort of exaggeration that was literally just a fat suit joke that never stopped. The idea that Barney and Robin were going through a rough patch didn’t need a fat suit, and Barney could have easily gone with slovenly appearance as opposed to maximum gluttony to largely the same effect. However, something about “Neil Patrick Harris” in a fat suit tickled the writers’ fancy, and as such we got an episode where Barney’s behaviour was one Eddie Murphy joke after another.

The setup for the episode, by and large, wasn’t bad: Barney hiding the video message within his porn collection, and in particular his choice to play it on a copy of Archisexture to ensure that Ted wound find it, was a good way to bring this to the surface, and the opening had an energy to it that was quite enjoyable if perhaps too reliant on porn puns. And Barney’s “Relationship Gut” was distracting (and unattractive) enough that it could have sufficed throughout the episode, and Barney’s behaviour could have simply been in his playboy personality being overwhelmed by a less obsessive hair regiment or less attractive clothing. There was nothing in that story that required a fat suit, as he could have looked in that window at episode’s end and seen a hippie, or a hobo, or something else that didn’t require such a cheap gag to persist throughout the episode. Robin was able to hold up her side of the storyline without such exaggerations.

And what makes this episode an outright failure, at least on a plot level, is that there was no logical reason for Barney and Robin to break up as they are. To this point the show has quite clearly indicated that these two could be a match, and it was willing to give them a fair shake of things. And while I think there is an argument to be made that they’re not ready for each other, and perhaps even an argument to be made that they’ll never be ready for each other, this episode did not successfully make that argument. The conclusion attempted to make the argument that Barney and Robin getting back together as friends is something the audience would want, but I simply don’t see it: Barney in a relationship gave the show a new dynamic to play, one which hadn’t been tapped out heading into this episode and isn’t tapped out as we leave it. And the fact that it tried to use a fat suit to elevate that point, as if that would actually help its case, demonstrates that at every level this was a storyline doomed to fall on deaf ears at least for this critic.

As for the rest of the episode, Alan Thicke’s cameo was quite enjoyable and the entire “Stormtrooper/Stakeout/Robot/Alan Thicke/Van vs. Station Wagon/Pizza Guy Citing Porn” Lines sequence was manic enough to work as simple comedy. But when the episode so hinged on an emotional moment, but did everything in its power to undercut that moment and further disconnect it from the reality we as viewers have witnessed thus far this season, it can’t help but feel like a misstep, perhaps the most substantial one for the show in quite some time. I’m really curious to know what it was that rushed the writers into making such a decisive action, and why they chose this particular method to do so: it’s created a rough patch in the season that is going to need some time to undo, and a brief hint at a Canadian Variety show w/ Robin and Alan Thicke isn’t enough for me to call this a success.

Cultural Observations

• Marshall and Lily sneaking porn out of Ted’s new collection was a fun moment, largely because it involved Lily being “one of the guys” more than usual.
• I like that Robin and Lily are both Star Wars illiterate, and more importantly that Robin’s attempts to make fun of the Stormtrooper were a failure of imagination. “Starpooper” wasn’t even close to clever, but rather than feeling like the writers’ failure it was just Robin being really petty about Star Wars, which I buy in the context of a combative relationship.
• I’m curious to know just what this show would be like if, as opposed to always following Ted’s perspective, an episode like this one leaned more heavily on Barney and Robin: by increasing the power of Ted’s observations, we’re never really able to witness what is really happened, and even when we do glimpse what was really happening in the diner it feels like a different camera angle as opposed to learning something about these characters that we didn’t see before.

Not only are you Weekend at Bernie’s.. but you have designated walkers (which is another lever than a driver)… get as wasted as you want… Gifted.

Conga to the beat of the steel-drums, mon, because Weekend at Bernies II is the Greatest (Worst) Movie EVER!

Click the poster or the movie title to download the review.

Review in a Nutshell:  Remember Nietzsche?  That whole gazing into the Abyss, the Abyss gazes into you thing?   He was  talking about this movie.

This movie contains:

Bernie.

Voodoo Mind Control.

We completely neglected to mention Barry Bostwick.

What happens when you find out your boss is dead act, like he’s alive!

Co-workers Larry (Andrew McCarthy) and Richard (Jonathan Silverman) spending a weekend at the beach house of their boss, Bernie (Terry Kiser), who’s secretly planning to kill the duo because they’ve uncovered an accounting error at the company. But when the boys arrive, Bernie’s already been whacked, and hilarity ensues as Larry and Richard try to keep his death a secret so that they won’t be considered suspects.

Bernie’s has an actually good premise which could’ve turned out to be witty, instead just turns out to be a preposterously unfunny dark comedy.

The film’s comedy mostly derives from it’s slapstick that was used about 2,000 times. Jokes were either about somebody getting hurt on the head or either just jokes about how Bernie’s actually dead but the people are too dumb to notice. I mean honestly how could you not know the guy was dead, I mean yeah your drunk but it’s not like your blind. The guys not moving and is not even talking, so obviously he must be dead. Dumb people!

The film was stupid, but not stupid as in a funny way to laugh at the film funny, more of like it just got so annoying that I couldn’t wait till the Weekend was over. I mean I like dark comedies but there wasn’t even any dark jokes one bit, except that these guys were trying so hard to hide some dead guy.

The performances are not that good, and these actors are trying so hard to do their best with this god-awful script, but they just can’t produce anything funny. The one thing I found funny to look for, is when there is a dead body and its just sitting there with a bunch of dialogue, you’ll be able to soon tell when there is a chance when that actor breathes or blinks. I found myself more concentrated on that then the whole film at all.

The only good thing about this film that I will say is that I do give this film props for actually going out on a limb and trying to make a good of this film, but ultimately it just suffers way too much.

Consensus: Bernie’s is supposed to be a comedy that is not at all funny, and just relies toio much on slapstick and really dumb jokes.

1/10=SomeOleBullShiittt!!!

Woman Found Living With Week-Old Corpse.

BIG SANDY – A 45-year-old woman has been committed for mental evaluation after she lived in an apartment for a week with her boyfriend’s dead body.

Police have released a picture of the boyfriend:

Yes.  That’s right.  The sole purpose of me choosing this story was just so I could use a picture of Bernie from Weekend at Bernie’s.

Big Sandy police Lt. Van Burr said a man flagged down officer Wes Walters about 11:30 a.m. Friday and told him he smelled a foul odor coming from his sister’s Hillcrest Manor apartment.

Can you seriously flag a copy down to investigate a foul odor coming from somewhere?

Because if that’s true, my wife would be flagging down the cops on a daily basis and my ass would be in jail.

The brother visited the apartment earlier, but his sister did not let him in, he said.

I hate piss poor writing like this.  If he wasn’t in the apartment, then he really didn’t visit the apartment.  He attempted to visit the apartment.

Once police went into the house, they found William Drake, 50, dead on a couch.

So now it’s a house?  One sentence ago it was an apartment, and now it’s a house.

Next they’ll change it to they found a werewolf dead on the couch.

That would actually be infinitely much better than this story.  I told you.  I peaked at the Weekend at Bernie’s reference.  You should have fucking known it was all downhill from here.

“She said he (Drake) didn’t want to leave the apartment,” Lt. Burr said, adding that the woman has been committed for mental issues before.

Did he say he didn’t want to leave the apartment ERRR house before or after he died?  Might be a valid question.  If he said it before he died–meaning he wanted to stay there until he died–then it might just be a case of really moronic misinterpretation.

If he allegedly said that to her after he died…well, then you just have a nutjob on your hands.

According to police, the woman, whose name is not being released, and Drake lived together for 10 years.

Isn’t the tenth anniversary necrophilia?

Lt. Burr said Drake died of natural causes and had recently been taken off dialysis.

I wouldn’t exactly call being taken off dialysis dying of natural causes.  Seeing as how dialysis is supposed to prevent you from dying of causes natural or otherwise to begin with.

Dead people just aren’t as funny in real life as they are in the movies.

Bernie met Jason in Friday 13th Part 7, The New Blood (1988): Dir John Carl Buechler

This was the summer (and year) I fell in love with film.

It was a great year for Hollywood. The last hurrah for 1980s culture before film would get serious again; before film latched back onto the gritty realism that papa Reagan had tried so desperately hard to shield us from. America still felt good about herself and was steaming ahead into the 90s.  Not knowing what to do with me that summer, my mother would bring me to work with her at her dental office where I would hang out with her all day.

Anyway, this admittedly sounds like it would be boring for a child, but next door to this office was a 7 screen dollar movie theater. I spent 5 days a week in this theater and saw at least two movies a day…sometimes three. And, since my parents were very liberal with me, never shutting the world out, my mother allowed me to see (most) rated R films which was truly exceptional and I am so grateful to her to this day.

In the beginning of the summer, I remember having to bring my mom to the ticket office to purchase the tickets to R films for me… Kind of embarrassing. However, by the end of the summer, the workers knew me and just let me pass. Looking back, this dollar movie wasn’t your typical cheap theater. It had new carpet and bright lights. I can’t imagine what it looks like 20 years later.

Of course, seeing R rated movies this young was a bit awkward at times. I remember sitting watching The War of the Roses. There is a sex scene towards the beginning with Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas. This shithead teenager sitting behind me trying to impress his friends, leaned over, tapped me on the shoulder, and asked if I was taking notes. His friends erupted in laughter and I sunk down in my seat…

Anyway, these were the big films that year (1989):

Three Fugitives
Back to the Future II
Lethal Weapon 2
Batman
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
The Dream Team
Turner and Hooch
Honey, I Shrunk the Kids
Ghostbusters 2
Star Trek 5: The Final Frontier
Driving Miss Daisy
Born on the 4th of July
Field of Dreams
Dead Poets Society
My Left Foot
Do the Right Thing
Parenthood
Steel Magnolias
When Harry Met Sally
Sex, Lies, and Videotape (this is the only one I didn’t see until years later)
The Abyss
Glory
Black Rain
Always
War of the Roses
Halloween 5
Nightmare on Elm Street 5
Friday the 13th pt. 8: Jason Takes Manhattan
The Little Mermaid
Look Who’s Talking
Crimes and Misdemeanors
The ‘Burbs
Casualties of War
The Fly 2
The Karate Kid 3
Major League
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
Pet Semetary
Road House
Uncle Buck
Weekend at Bernies

Now, I realize some of the dates of these will have them being released that fall, but the year sort of blends together at this point. I know for a fact Back to the Future II came out in November because I went to see it for my birthday… but everything else, I have no clue. I just know that I saw a majority of these films that summer and all of them by new years. I saw most of these films twice, some as much as 5-8 times. Not all of them are great; most of them are Hollywood schlock, but they were pretty exciting for me. This could arguably be the year of the sequel.

Great year. I would do it all again.

… a moveon.org production.  Ted Kennedy’s body hadn’t even reached room temperature when Nancy Pelosi issued the call to exploit his death to pass the most reckless legislation in a generation or three.

It’s disturbing to see Pelosi and the Democrats rummaging through a dead man’s pockets, hoping to find some political capital.

harold, clyde carrying my beach stuff

Whenever it’s sunny, hot and beautiful out we like to head to Bay Beach, near Erie St in Crystal Beach!

I always take my raft with me and ride the 3ft waves there.

I usually spend most of my day in the water to keep cool.

After I’m water logged, I’ll head over to Weekend at Bernies for  hot dog or a burger and a pop.

Then I’ll go sit in the sun for awhile to dry off.

Usually Harold and Clyde come with me, and it’s great because they can carry all of my stuff with me.

I’m a total DIVA! LOL

bay beach crystal beach oh yah

Movies like this makes Ponderings from Pluto wonder why Jonathan Silverman and Andrew McCarthy’s acting careers never quite resulted in A-List status.

Fresh off his cameo appearance in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, guitarist Keith Richards of England’s rock band The Rolling Stones will star in yet another film that may be more fitting for his physical appearance.

Richards will play a corpse in the sequel and third movie in the Weekend at Bernie’s franchise.

The movie will be called Weekend at Bernie’s 3: Delightfully Dead.

The first film starred Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman as two men whose boss, Bernie Lomax, is murdered. While a party takes place at his weekend beach house, they must try to find out who committed the murder. The guests, in true form for a suspend-your-disbelief comedy, are completely oblivious that the party’s host is deader than the New Coke marketing campaign. One assumes none of them have a sense of smell.

“We couldn’t reach an agreement for [Terry Kiser] to reprise his role as Bernie, and after doing brainstorming we thought Keith Richards was the perfect choice,” said Robert Klane, who wrote the screenplays for both movies and directed the second one. “I mean, Mr. Richards looks dead!”

The third film takes place 21 years after the first film and 17 years after the second film, and Klane added that Richards’ hard-living habits of drinking like a fish and smoking like a refinery give him an appearance of what a corpse would look like after two decades of decomposition.

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Keith Richards

Richards, preparing for an upcoming Rolling Stones concert, could not be reached for comment.

Weekend at Bernie’s 3 is scheduled for release in July 2010.

I used to just sigh – my heart overflowing – when my son, as a small tot, would look up at me with big brown eyes and all his cuteness and ask, “Mommy, can I marry you when I grow up?” I remembered my mother saying my brother used to ask the same thing of her when he was little…I hope.

But never – ever – did I remember hearing my son say, “Mommy, can I BE you when I grow up?”

But I’m going to start watching which of my sexy slingbacks are slithering silently from my shoe shelf.

Apparently, a mama-wanna-be in New York posed as his dead mother to collect on her social security and rent subsidies.

Creepy is as creepy does….and the Mommy Master got away with it for six years…and looked damn good doing it! Great mani and pedi, Pink Posey lip gloss, the works… Gives “mama’s boy” a whole new meaning, doesn’t it? Obviously, the FBI took awhile to notice his unibrow and adams apple the size of a hard-boiled egg on steroids. And all the Mary Kay in the world won’t tame that hair lip forever.

It was one thing to impersonate his mother, but he also came to believe the ruse himself, believing he actually was her.  When taken into custody, he claimed he was with her when she was dying and that he “breathed in her last breath.”

I think I just threw up in my mouth. Now it’s getting Norman Bates creepy. And he would have gotten away with it, except he got greedy and tried to sue his son – I mean himself – for forging a title with her – I mean his – signature – claiming his property was illegally sold by her – I mean him.

I’m feeling a Weekend at Bernies sequel coming down the pike…

Note to self: Have talk with son.  The bedazzled taupe Manalos are off limits…

‘Weekend at Bernies‘ (1989) är en film som många nog glömt eller helt enkelt har förträngt. Filmen handlar om kontorsråttorna Richard (Jonathan Silverman) och Larry (Andrew McCarthy). De är det klassiska radarparet: Richard är den skötsamme mesen och Larry är “wild and crazy”. En dag upptäcker det att någon håller på med fuffens på livsförsäkringsbolaget de jobbar på, någon stjäler en massa pengar – och det är ju fel. Så de söker upp sin chef, Bernie (Terry Kiser) och berättar vad de upptäckt.
Nu hör det till historien att det är Bernie själv som ligger bakom skumraskaffärerna. För att göra sig av med vittnena, bjuder han med grabbarna grus till hans strandhus – där han sedan kan göra sig av med dem. Men innan grabbarna hinner dit, blir Bernie mördad i sitt strandhus av banditer.

Så pojkarna åker dit, med brudar och bärs i tankarna, då de upptäcker att Bernie är död. Då gör de det enda rätta – de låtsas som att han lever och kånkar nekrofiliskt runt med liket på olika gillen. Allt för att ingen ska misstänka att det är dom som dödat honom – alla verkar ju ändå tro att Bernie lever. Men mördaren upptäcker att Bernie åker runt på olika ställen och tror på så vis att han fortfarande lever. Så han försöker gång på gång döda den redan döde.. och blir mer frustrerad.

Visst låter det som en underbar story? Gud ja! Filmen är faktiskt rätt underhållande, inte jätterolig, men en perfekt bakfyllefilm. Vad mer kan man begära? (I Sverige fick filmen den “roliga” titlen ‘Länge leve Bernie’. Undrar hur länge de funderade på den?)

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CLICK HERE To Read about the similarites between

Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron (1983) & Weekend At Bernie’s (1989)

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