Monthly Archives: August 2013

Movie Review: Kick-Ass 2

Life isn’t a comic book. That’s the story behind Kick-Ass 2, the sequel to a movie based on a comic book about people who dress up as superheroes, but not like in comic books, because this takes place in real life, with real people, who get in costumes and fight crime. It’s a not-a-comic comic book movie.

I’m making fun, but it’s a novel premise. What if you or I decided to create a superhero alter ego and took to the streets to fight the good fight? The first Kick-Ass, and the comic book that it was based off of, answered that question in the character of Dave Lizewski, a high school nerd who dons a scuba suit and calls himself Kick-Ass.

Kick-Ass gets his ass kicked, but a cell phone video of his existence goes viral and spawns a whole trend of regular people playing dress up. Unfortunately, Nicholas Cage and his preteen daughter actually are superheroes, waging a very real battle against New York’s criminal underworld. Kick-Ass gets involved, Nicholas Cage dies, and that’s where we left off at the end of the first film.

Kick-Ass 2 is basically more of the same, but because the concept is still somewhat original, the movie is entertaining. We have the preteen daughter, Hit Girl, struggling to fit in as a high school freshman. McLovin is back as the would-be heir to his deceased dad’s criminal empire. He’s looking to show the world he’s not a joke while at the same time exacting revenge on our protagonist. And then there’s Kick-Ass, trying to take his heroics to the next level, getting in shape, learning how to fight, and finding some like-minded partners to form a real-world Justice League.

So while the plot of Kick-Ass 2 isn’t really that different from the first, the team dynamic introduces an expanded group of characters. Jim Carrey plays an ex-mafia turned Captain America wannabe, Captain Stars and Stripes, or Colonel Stars and Stripes, something like that. His performance was good enough to make me forget that it was Jim Carrey under the mask. That is, until he made a wacky Jim Carrey face, and then I was like, yup, classic Jim Carrey, always making crazy faces.

Speaking of out of the woodwork, John Leguizamo has a role as McLovin’s bodyguard. That’s all there’s to say about that, really. The whole time he was on screen I just kept thinking to myself, man, that’s John Leguizamo. He looks old. Much older than he did when he played Luigi in Super Mario Brothers. And I don’t want to knock him, like I’m glad he’s doing movies and stuff, but he didn’t add anything to the film or the story. They could have probably gotten away with a few carefully placed John Leguizamo posters on the wall.

Oh yeah, and it’s a pretty violent movie, very graphic. I kept trying to justify the violence by telling myself, well, the real world is a violent place. This is probably a pretty good depiction of what would happen if a guy in a costume got beat up on the streets by four robbers. But it was just too much sometimes, running lawnmowers used as projectile weapons, multiple close-ups of broken arms and necks. Crack!

In trying to be real, or in trying to imagine how this story could take place in real life, the movie went beyond anything I’ve seen in this world. Like a barbecue propane tank being ignited and thrown through the windshield of a cop car. I’m sure that it could happen, but it doesn’t really strike me as anything I’d label realistic.

It’s like, in trying to point out or make fun of the ridiculousness of comic books, Kick-Ass 2 winds up shoving our faces in it. And then after the message has been rammed down our throats, the principle characters wind up just as guilty as everything they claim to rebuke. For example, one of the super-group members is gay. He doesn’t wear a mask because it reminds him of the closet. Similarly, Hit Girl early in the film chastised some street punks for throwing around the homophobic f-bomb. That sounds pretty progressive, right? Cut to somewhere toward the end, she’s fighting a group of thugs at high-speed traffic, calling them “cocksuckers” before casually throwing them out of a moving vehicle. What’s the message, that some slurs are more acceptable than others? Or that only the good guys are allowed to throw around epithets?

Like I said, it’s an entertaining movie, sure, but I’m not sure it was really a good movie. I wasn’t bored, but it would be hard to get lost in a daydream in a movie stuffed with so much visual, violent stimuli. I remember liking the comics when I read Mark Millar’s series years ago, but I don’t know, something about that story was easy to read and something about this film made it difficult for me not to look away. It’s a comic book made through a real life filter, thrown back through the comic book filter, and then adapted for a movie. I guess it’s not that far from what you’d expect.

Lack of sunlight and its effects on the skin

When I don’t go outside for a while, like if I don’t make an effort to get out of the house and stand in the sunlight, I get really pale. I work in a restaurant, it’s in a basement, it’s so dark inside that after a really long shift I don’t leave until the sun has gone down, which, especially in these summer months, that feels like a long time, a really long shift.

One time I had this friend, he put this whole thing of tape around his forearm. I was like, “Man, what are you doing?” he was like, “I’m just trying to see if I keep this tape on my arm for a while, like maybe it’s going to get really pale,” he’s a construction worker, always outside, he’s got that golden coat of tan, you know, like you see on the well-to-do, always golfing. But my friend’s not golfing, he’s hanging shingles or something, I don’t know, not shingles, whatever, I just made something up, but he’s outside, like installing windows or something, something outside.

I was like, “Why do you want to do that?” he’s like, “I don’t know, why not?” so I said, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Doesn’t your skin need to breathe?” and he got defensive, he shot back, “All right man, you know, maybe that’s a risk I’m willing to take, and maybe you should just stop asking so many questions.”

And so I did, I stopped asking questions. But maybe I should have asked a few more, like aren’t you worried about keeping the skin clean under there? Or, aren’t you afraid that it’s going to hurt really badly when you try to just rip that tape off? Because he did keep it on there too long and, I’m sure something happened with the pigmentation, but nobody was ever able to tell, because he got a rash, and he kept itching it, probably in his sleep, because people would ask him, “Hey dude, you should get that checked out. Are you itching it?” and again, he’d just kind of turn his body, like protecting his taped up arm, “Leave me alone, all right? I’m not itching it.”

Why would he lie about itching it? Like I said, itching it in his sleep, whatever, just a theory, but there was a definitely a rash, an aggravation, and it must have gotten infected, and there was an extended stay in the hospital. It turned out to be one of those antibiotic resistant bacteria, and we were all really scared, I thought that was it, for his arm anyway, I was like, if he’s making it out of there alive, it’s going to be with one less arm. And for what? Why did he put the tape on in the first place?

I don’t know, the doctors handled it. They got some sort of different antibiotics or something, I have no idea. But it made me think about my job, my lack of sunlight, our differences in tan, my lack of any color. One time I went to the beach and made a little design out of sunscreen on my chest. Sure enough, I went home, took a shower, and there it was. I should have maybe thought out the design a little better, it was crooked, my applying of the sunscreen was definitely inconsistent.

I kept my shirt on for a while, not that I really have any reason to take my shirt off, still, I’d look at myself in the mirror and think, why did I do that? What was the point? Maybe it was the same thing with my friend, with the tape. Maybe he was really just very bored, maybe he wanted to see a really crazy precise white stripe across his arm. Why? Why not?

Back to my job, back to the basement. I get worried that my skin is going to get so pale that I’m going to get that same resistant bacteria covering my whole body, they’re going to have to put me under a giant human-sized heat lamp, just like a tanning bed, but red and yellow instead of ultraviolet blue, they’ll be like, “Sorry Rob, even the antibiotic-resistant-resistant antibiotics couldn’t knock this thing out of your system. We’re hoping that these big lights here might cook it out of you. Yes, it’s going to be painful. All movement is going to be very unpleasant. But when it’s all said and done, we’re thinking you might walk out of here with a pretty sharp looking tan. And that’s something to look forward to, right? In this time of year, right? That’ll be pretty cool, don’t you think so?”

Castaway is easily the worst movie of all time

Remember the part in that movie Castaway where it takes Tom Hanks something like five days to get that fire going? Talk about baloney. You give me two sticks and twenty minutes and I’ll give you a roaring fire in just five minutes. And then I’ll use those other fifteen minutes to really start enjoying myself. So by the time you come up to me when those twenty minutes are over, you’ll see the fire, you’ll see me fully relaxed, and you’ll be like, “Rob, how long did it take you to get this fire going? Because it looks like you’ve been relaxing for at least fifteen minutes.”

Or that part where he catches the crab and kills it, and then he just cracks it open, uncooked, and lets all of that raw crab stuff ooze all out of the shell? I’m calling hogwash on that also. First of all, everybody knows that you have to cook crab. And didn’t he already have the fire going at this point? How hard would it have been to at least heat it up a little? Secondly, it took that guy way too long to catch one crab. And what does he do as soon as he catches it? He destroys it. Me, I would have captured it, made a little crab house, lured in another crab of the opposite sex, and I would’ve started a little crab farm. It’s something about giving a man a crab for a day or teaching him how to eat crabs for a lifetime. Jesus used to say stuff like that all the time.

You know what else bugged me about Castaway? His beard should have been much longer. If you told me not to shave for four years, I’d be more facial hair than man after just two. But Tom Hanks’s mustache wasn’t even really in the way of his upper lip. Not much. One time I tried to grow a beard and that’s exactly the type of unexpected growth I wasn’t prepared for, the upper lip. It was getting in the way of my eating, always picking up a little mayonnaise from every bite of sandwich, stuff like that.

And the volleyball, come on. I would have been playing with that volleyball, not turning it into an imaginary best friend. Think of how boring every day must have been. I would have found some wall and tried to see how many times I could bounce it off the wall without it hitting the ground. But Hanks didn’t do anything. Oh yeah, I guess he learned how to paint, like he cave painted that painting of Helen Hunt on the wall of his bedroom. Or bedcave. Caveroom, whatever. But again, that’s probably a little unrealistic also. Where were all of his practice paintings? There’s no way you go from being an illustration novice to all of the sudden busting out photorealistic Helen Hunts. It’s just not plausible. Maybe they could have added some obvious flaws, just for narrative’s sake.

Four years sounds like a long time, but Helen Hunt seemed to have moved on pretty quickly. I get it, you’re lonely, you don’t want to wallow in your own misery for forever, but let’s just assume four months maybe hoping they’d find something. Another two months coming to terms with the likelihood that he died, people saying, “Helen, you have to move on. You’ve got to meet someone else.” Best case scenario, you go on a few blind dates, set some stuff up on an Internet site, you meet someone, there’s an awkward adult going-out phase, dating, moving in together. And then an engagement, a marriage. What I’m getting at here is, by the time Tom Hanks comes back, Helen Hunt already has a new husband and like two kids. It just seems very rushed, like she would had to have hit the ground running maybe two weeks after the plane went down.

Finally, I’m calling bullshit on Tom Hanks not opening up that final package. The man figured out how to make a boat out of a port-a-potty door. You’re telling me he never figured out how to open and then reseal a stupid box? This man worked for FedEx. He could have probably set those boxes up in his sleep. Look, I understand, something to live for, that one delivery. But I would have been thinking, antibiotics? Maybe something potentially lifesaving? Maybe a zippo lighter? Of course he opened that box up. It probably turned out to be nothing, like a decorative scarf, something useless. And then he’s dropping it off at the end, like, here you go miss. Again, bullshit.

In conclusion, I hate to say that Castaway just isn’t very realistic. And I haven’t even gotten into how unlikely it would have been for him to survive that plane crash in the first place. I’m totally not buying it.

So many possibilities

You, give me five dollars. Go into your pocket, find five dollars, and then give it to me. I’ll make change. I’ve got change. And I’d like more change. More money. Yours. It’s either give me five dollars willfully, or face the possibility that I might go ahead and demand ten dollars, this time a little bit more aggressively. I’m not threatening. That’s just a possibility. The universe is full of possibilities. I’m just pointing out one rather peaceful possibility, you giving me five dollars, in contrast to a slightly more violent possibility, me taking ten dollars. Who am I to say what’s going to wind up happening? I’m no fortuneteller. I’m just a guy, standing in front of another guy, asking him to give up five dollars. Does that really sound like such a big deal?

And you. I’d like five dollars from you also. In addition, I’d like you to walk over to that deli and buy me a sandwich. Peppermill turkey on a hero, lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard. And a soda. If it comes with a pickle, great, if not, I want a small bag of chips. And don’t think that I won’t be waiting outside, because I will be waiting outside. Again, I can’t predict the future, I mean, I can predict it, I just can’t tell how accurate those predictions will wind up being.

You. You heard all of that stuff I was saying to those other two guys, right? Well, I want all of the same stuff from you, but pick me up a couple of scratch-offs while you’re in there. Listen, you can put away that cell phone or you can keep dialing whatever number you’re dialing. I can put down my fist or I can clench it even tighter.

It’s crazy, all of the possibilities, all of the different scenarios I can imagine. You ever hear about any multiverse theories? Like just because something’s not happening in this universe doesn’t mean that it isn’t happening somewhere else. Actually, I think that it has to be happening somewhere else. Like there are an infinite amount of universes, one for each possibility. So while it’s almost crazy to think about me getting very, very violent over you not giving me five bucks, a sandwich, some Lotto tickets, and a ride home, it’s even crazier to think that somewhere in some parallel universe, that’s exactly what’s happening.

I’m no scientist, but if I were in your shoes, and I did subscribe to this multiverse mumbo-jumbo, I’d be doing everything in my power to make sure that this universe doesn’t wind up turning out to be that universe, the one where I start going off-the-wall nutso just because some knucklehead won’t hand over what amounts to less than twenty dollars worth of deli purchases, a quick ride home, and a very brief stop in your bathroom.

Because who’s to say, right? Like who’s to really say that I will or won’t do anything? You. Go over to that guy in the deli and tell him that I forgot to ask for onions on my sandwich. You. Make sure that that other guy over there is buying me the good scratch-offs, not those cheap-o dollar tickets. Because that wasn’t the deal. And if I wasn’t specific in this universe, well, I’m sure there are a near-infinite number of me lookalikes somewhere out there that would beg to differ.

And not the five dollar ones either, make them the tens, the big ones, the ones with thirty-two chances to win. That’s a lot of chances. Think about me maybe winning the jackpot. Somewhere it’s got to happen, right? I mean, statistically speaking, I should be rich somewhere out there, you know what I’m saying? Like, what’s thirty two chances times infinity?

I’m frugal

My SonicCare toothbrush doesn’t hold a charge anymore, but I don’t want to buy a new one. It was hard enough spending a hundred and forty dollars on one toothbrush, but two? That’s insane. That’s not happening. So brushing my teeth has become such a chore. I hit the button, it buzzes for like fifteen seconds, and then I have to plug it into the charger and wait something like four hours for another fifteen seconds. Right? That’s a lot of time just to brush my teeth. And those fifteen seconds are getting shorter every day, each time just a fraction of a second less charge.

What can I say? I’m frugal. I bought this messenger bag three years ago, and one of the straps doesn’t work at all. I say it doesn’t work, but you know, it’s just old. It’s an old bag. Still, when I bought it, I kept getting all of these unexpected compliments, like, “Hey Rob, that’s a really sharp messenger bag,” stuff like that, which wasn’t even my intention, I think I just bought it because it was the first one that I saw when I went looking for a messenger bag.

That strap I was talking about earlier actually fell off, but I replaced it with part of an old belt I had lying around. People kept telling me, “Rob, you’ve got to get rid of that old belt, it’s disgusting.” But look who’s laughing now? Me. Because I saved that belt, it was exactly the type of thin material I needed to help strap down that second side of my messenger bag.

But it didn’t really sew correctly. I mean, my sewing abilities are fine. It’s just that, I’ll never buy a real sewing kit. I’ve been to about six hotels over the course of my life, and you know what that means, right? Six travel-sized sewing kits. Why spend money on stuff when you don’t have to?

The only thing is, six mini-sewing kits, while it’s a lot of string, it’s not a lot of plain black string. They always give you a little bit of every color. The first things that I sewed, like holes in the armpits of my t-shirts, stuff like that, it was great to be able to use black thread. But by now, for that messenger bag, I think I only had a choice between turquoise or pink.

Do you know how hard it is to really sew an old piece of belt onto a canvas bag with hotel thread? It’s not easy. But nothing in life is easy. Like brushing your teeth. Sometimes if I don’t have four hours to wait for my battery to charge up, I’ll just use the SonicCare as a regular toothbrush, like actually manually brushing it back and forth across my teeth. Tell me about it, it’s humiliating. Especially considering the fact that I haven’t changed the toothbrush heads in over a year. Those things are such a scam. Shouldn’t it be around the cost of just another regular toothbrush? Like come on, I already spent one hundred and forty dollars on your device. Now I have to fork over twenty-five ninety-nine once every four months just to keep this thing new?

And explaining to everybody what’s going on with my messenger bag, like sometimes I’d just like to be able to leave the house without people handing me spare change, or saying, “Hey Rob, when are you going to get a new bag?” or, “Hey mister, you dropped a shoe out of your bag. You should really get that strap thing fixed.”

It’s not even a strap at this point. But I’m still laughing last, at everybody who called me crazy along the way, “Throw this away, waste more money on that,” it’s like, who’s the sucker spending sixty dollars a year on belts? Not me. And not anybody I know. And actually, I have no idea how much belts cost, because I haven’t bought one in forever. And also, I wouldn’t have anybody to ask, my breath has been so bad since my SonicCare stopped working, nobody lets me get a full sentence out without running away. And so, what, I’m out of touch? Or everybody else is out of touch. Either it’s me or it’s everybody else. One or the other.