A little banjo might make this disaster (movie) a little more enjoyable.

More mashup delight after the jump…

Here’s a brilliant alternative marketing piece for The Men Who Stare At Goats.  I’m looking forward to seeing this film in the theaters.

Contributed By Guest Blogger WILL SHERROD

- We were asked to “Pick Flick.”

- A plastic bag in the wind became Oscar worthy art.

- Mr. Anderson took a slow-mo step down the rabbit hole.

- We learned the rules of a fight club.

- We got an inside look into the mind of John Malkovich.

- Three snot nosed teenagers stumbled into the wrong cabin.

- Lola ran. Over and over again.

- George Clooney, Marky Mark, and Ice Cube found some gold.

- A bunch of random people happened to sing an Aimee Mann song at the same time.

- Forrest Gump Jr. “saw dead people.”

The list goes on. I truly believe you could troll the last decade and be hard pressed to come up with ten movies that live up to the standard of originality produced in 1999. The last year of the 90’s was groundbreaking for the motion picture industry.

I feel like it was an echo from older pages of cinematic history (a 1970’s-style revolution). Sigh… Just coming up with this list makes me wish I could go back and party like it’s 1999.

Contributed By Guest Blogger BRIAN BURKE

It’s not often I’m compelled to put fingertip to keyboard in effort to make a point about a movie I’ve recently seen, but Where the Wild Things Are had me reaching for a nice tall glass of single malt lithium. Why? Because the movie’s drama comes from a place that is too real, too comprehensible, too common and most unfortunately – just the type of thing you go to the movies to escape.

From it’s trailer we’re led to believe that fuzzy monsters with CG lips and the warm nasal breathings of a Soprano’s lead will satisfy something deep and powerful within us; the hopeful sound bites, “I didn’t want to wake you up, but I really want to show you something,” the transcendent Arcade Fire track rising, crescendoing, promising of secrets revealed, hope rediscovered, problems solved, the washed out cinematography, the power of imagination. It’s a dreamland we’re going to. The kind of dreamland where everything is ok.

And then we’re given the island of Eeyore.

For the rest of the article, FOLLOW THE DAMN JUMP!

Let me tell you a story. When I was a kid I terrorized my family cat. The very cat I begged for. I’m not proud of it one bit and still ooze with regret every time I look in that old cat’s eyes. I don’t tell strangers about it (normally). It’s one of my odder, more hidden secrets. And when I set out to write my first book I sure as shit put a kid terrorizing a cat in it because that’s what young idealistic artists do. They set out to make art that reflects life, that puts a voice to really sad depressing stuff that we all have to deal with and don’t want to tell anyone about. We think art and artful movies should pull the curtains from in front of this truly normal type of behavior and show it for what it is: common. There is a feeling of solace in this, in showing the world that they’re not alone. “My name is Brian and I also terrorized a domesticated pet.”

Yes, it’s common, and Max does it within the first five seconds of the film. But it’s sort of sad. And it’s one of a thousand other sort-of-sad and anxiety-inducing elements that combine to form my and most others’ daily life. And that’s my point. I don’t want to go to the movies to see the life I just came from.

And who does?

Maybe the twenty-year-old version of me, the angsty artist type just learning to escape the repression imbued by his lonely suburban upbringing. But not now. Now I’m an adjusted adult with experience enough to know that every single day you will step in some brand of shit and the best you can do is clean it off and focus on the punctuation smiley faces your girlfriend puts at the end of her text messages ; )

And when I go to the movies I want to see something better. I don’t want a lover with anger management issues jealous of his retreating lover’s very reasonable inability to cope with him. I don’t want textbook psychosocial group dynamic woes. I don’t want to see the career, love and financial troubles of a single mother and the pitiful effect it has on her children, acting out while left to grow up largely alone. Fuck no!

I want people succeeding in their seemingly impossible pursuits, because I want to succeed in the real world version of mine. I want treasure to be found at the end of long journeys because I want my own pot of gold. I want the guy to get the girl. The whistleblower to win the suit. The long shot horse/pugalist/baller/card shark/dancer/you fill in the blank to win win win.

In short, I want the unlikely to happen, the stuff you only get to experience a dozen times in a good life. I want that to happen all the time…or at the very least, when I pay $21.50 for me and my now slightly sadder girlfriend’s matinee.

I realize this is a loss for the art house film community. Another one gone to the dark side. Another mindless moviegoer born. But why is it so hard to see that the average life spends so much time dealing with “real issues” that it’s all we can do to spend what little money we have to get away from them for 2 precious hours?

I want to go to movies made by “auteurs” paired with my favorite novelists, and I will continue to, but I beg you: take me somewhere a little bit further. Give me monsters with monstrous problems, but stop putting costumes on my own.

Contributed By Guest Blogger WILL SHERROD

I could go on for hours about everything that’s wrong with the Saw franchise. The convoluted plot, banal characters, and unsurprising “twists” each warrant their own whiny blog entry.

The thing is, America just doesn’t give a damn. You don’t add a Saw movie to your Netflix queue in hopes of being challenged by the darkness that lurks in humanity. You don’t drop $10 at the box office because you want your spine to tingle with edge-of-your-seat suspense. You see a Saw movie because you know some chick is going to have her ribs ripped from her spine by a rusty metal contraption while she screams for mercy. And apparently that is just cool as fuck.

For the rest of the article, FOLLOW THE JUMP…

In times of crisis, America takes its stress and fear to the Cineplex. A 1950’s audience dealt with its fear of real nuclear warfare through the plastic suits and cheesy special effects of Godzilla, King of the Monsters. In the 70’s and 80’s, we relieved the stress created by real life serial killers (Dahmer, Gacy, etc.) with Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, and Freddy Krueger. Check box office tracking. Whenever our nation is at war, horror film attendance rises.

I think back to 2002, when we first started dumping prisoners into Guantanamo Bay, and I’m not surprised that “torture porn” is such a popular cinematic subgenre. The worst real life images we see on the news are people having bags put over their heads while they’re tortured and humiliated. The Saw movies just help us cope with our own subconscious fears.

Long story short, that’s why I voted for Obama. If he can successfully change the United States policy on torture, then I won’t have to complain about the Saw films much longer.

Super fan Deirdre Synan from New York bakes a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies (trust us)…but she doesn’t stop there.  Deirdre recently sent us a picture of her latest “Wild” creation in honor of Spike’s film adaptation (which she adored).

Even if you have mixed emotions about the film, it’s hard to argue with this killer sugar concoction.

Endangered unicorns, Tom Cruise as a dainty nature boy, and more bubbles than Willy Wonka can shake his cane at?  How Ridley Scott followed The Duellists, Blade Runner, and Alien with this debacle is beyond me.

To be fair, I watched the “Director’s Cut” with the Jerry Goldsmith score, and I understand the stage burned down mid-production, forcing them to re-build with little time, and less money…but that’s no excuse for this amateur hour piece of filmmaking.

Yes, Tim Curry’s make-up as “Darkness” is quite impressive and effective, but beyond that, Legend is suitable for a drinking game, and nothing more.

Am I missing something fantasy fans?

Could someone explain to me what the hell is going on in this picture?

For those who said nothing good ever came from a movie novelization (me), prepare to swallow your words.

My good friend Andy Waz just pointed out to me page 90 of The Goonies novelization by James Kahn, where the eliminated “Goonie Code” is printed in its entirety. Apparently, this was part of a cut scene where Kerri Green’s character, Andy Carmichael, took the sacred oath (you can also see the cast performing an excerpt on “The Making Of” DVD special feature).

So, here ya go children of the ’80’s…get ready to be initiated…

“I will never betray my Goon Dock friends…We will stick together until the whole world ends…Through heaven and hell and nuclear war…Good pals like us will stick like tar…In the city, or the country, or the forest, or the boonies…I am proudly declared a fellow…GOONIE!”

And that concludes your dose of nostalgia for Thursday.  Gulp.