2006: Year of the Grieco

When I arrived in my hometown of Dallas for Christmas I realized that I hadn’t gotten enough presents for my friends and family. In a last minute effort to rectify the situation I drove my sweet-ass Hyundai to what I’m fairly sure is the largest Tom Thumb in the world. After grabbing various gift cards, several “holiday” bags of Cheetohs, and a nutcracker that does the running man I headed to the checkout line. While the woman in front of me complained about how she just couldn’t find Steak-ums anymore, I perused the tabloids as I am want to do. All of the best ones (those in black & white) we’re offering their predictions for the coming year. There are too many forecasts to cover, but let’s just say you, me, and the world’s fattest baby are in for some serious stuff in ’06.

Reading these predictions made me realize that for too long I have neglected the one-hour training I received from some guy in Louisiana when I got my telephone psychic job. I decided to give my powers of prognostication a workout and to do my best to make the actress who played Miss Cleo proud. Wait. Kids, I’m only joking. There really is a Miss Cleo, and on one special night each year she dresses up in a quasi-Jamaican accent and tells all the good boys and girls who have lovers in prison, a fear of dying alone, or an unquenchable thirst for Pop-Tarts and Robitussin exactly what they need to do to make everything OK. Whew! That was close. I would never forgive myself if I ruined things for the little ones. Anyway, without further Grieco, here are my predictions for the New Year.

1. It will finally be revealed that Sarah Jessica Parker is actually that nerdy dude who plays Mitch in Real Genius.

2. My prayers will be answered and Colin Farrell, Russell Crowe, and Eva Longoria will be sucked into a worm hole and deposited on a planet where drunken louts, overrated boorish Aussies, and photo-op whores are forced to work as production assistants on a straight-to-video re-imagining of Godspell.

3. In fulfillment of Prophecy, Grieco’s post-apocalyptic wasteland zombie picture, Raiders of the Damned, will shock the world and break all previous opening weekend box office records.

4. Dako Fa-Fa will raise an army of super-intelligent spider monkeys bent on world domination. She’ll also take on the role of a 12 year-old Eleanor Roosevelt in a life-spanning biopic that will also star Charlize Theron and Shirley MacLaine. All three women will be simply delightful in the film.

5. Sharks will take to the sky.

6. The Cruise-Holmes baby will be born and it’s ability to manipulate both time and space will make us all feel bad for doubting Scientology luminaries like Vinnie Barbarino, Lt. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, and that chick who played Dharma.

7. Ocean’s 13 will go into production, but the level of self-satisfaction and masturbatory filmmaking involved will actually cause Soderbergh and the entire cast (except Don Cheadle) to explode in a brilliant display over Clooney’s Lake Como villa.

8. The Chicago Cubs will win the World Series.

9. Special Agent Dale Cooper will get out of the Black Lodge

10. You, gentle reader, will pass this post onto ten of your friends, thus keeping the chain alive. After all, Chet Dinkins of Missouri failed to pass this post on in the allotted time and three days later he found himself working in a call center selling radio ads disguised as PSAs to people who despised him from the moment they heard his voice, while the middle-aged women in the ½-cubicles next to him showed each other the shirts they had made with iron-on pictures of their cats and the guy across the aisle talked about how the community bathroom in the men’s boarding house he lived in was a great place to practice his singing even though it reeked of month-old urine. OK, that was totally me. I had that job in Chicago. There is no Chet Dinkins. But still, if you could pass this on to even like one or two people it would totally help me out, because Burning Man is coming up and I really need something nice to wear.

Happy New Year!

Shame on You, Johnny Damon

I am going out of town for the holidays. I shall return on the 29th and I have a lot of exciting posts planned. Did somebody say Beastmaster 2: Through the Portal of Time? or was that Beastmaster 3: The Eye of Braxus? Anyway, be safe and keep Grieco in your hearts, y'all.

Beyond the Valley of the Griecos

I realize that at GIK I spend most of my time trying to find the good in bad movies…or something. Honestly, I don’t know what I spend most of my time doing. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to point out some movies that I truly love. Now, this isn’t a list of the best movies of all time, because I probably haven’t seen most of those. This isn’t even a list of my favorite movies, although some on this list would make that list, as well. These are just some movies that I think a lot of people might be missing out on. I’m not going to rate them on the Grieco scale, because I think they transcend that. And I have all of this shopping to do, so I really don’t have time to write anything. I would love to keep the list going, so please let me know if there are any movies you think I should add. Just make sure Adrian Grenier of “Entourage” fame isn’t in it. I just don’t like that kid’s attitude.

Fletch
Heaven Can Wait
Real Genius
Revenge of the Nerds
Quick Change
Hands on a Hard Body
Hollywood Shuffle
Fletch Lives
Peeping Tom
Beverly Hills Ninja
Undercover Brother
Legend
Scrooged
Watcher in the Woods
Heavyweights
Flirting with Disaster
Can’t Hardly Wait
Mommy Dearest
Spies Like Us
Hiding Out

Weapons of Mass Awesomeness

I’ve been watching some fantasy movies of late, and all of the sword play has got me thinking about the best movie weapons of all time. Form a queue ladies, you know you want to. Anyway, there were so many weapons to choose from; Indiana Jones’ whip, Gandalf’s blade Glamdring, Frodo’s Sting, Freddy’s finger razors, the proton packs the Ghostbusters used, any gun Grieco has held. The list goes on and on. After a long night of deep thought and “Miami Vice” reruns I chose the three weapons that I believe stand out above all others. Here they are in no particular order. If you have your own favorites, please let me know.

The Lightsaber (Star Wars Episodes I-VI): Let’s just get it out of the way. It’s one of the coolest things ever. Whether you’re into the crazy double-sided Maul design or you’re a purist, the lightsaber is kickass. Give me a lightsaber and a hover board and I’m calling it a day.

The Glave (Krull): This multi-sided star-type weapon with claw-like hooks on the end works as a blade, a boomerang, and a destroyer of all Evil. If you haven’t seen Krull and dreamed of holding the Glave in your hand... you probably have a girlfriend.

Rob Lowe’s Smile (Class, St. Elmo’s Fire, About Last Night, The Outsiders, Youngblood, Atomic Train, Man he’s damn handsome, et al.): It slays my tears.

More Dragons, Bro. More Dragons

My brother hates the movie Dragonslayer. It came out almost 25 years ago when he was10 and he still brings it up, which I think is awesome. It’s not even a “that was a bad movie” kind of hate. Oh, no. He hates Dragonslayer like I hate Erin Brockovich. I mean come on! They gave that two-bit hooker with a heart of gold an Academy Award for saying “They’re called boobs, Ed.” I’m not making that up, that’s the line. “They’re called boobs, Ed.” That’s what gets you the statue and a date to the big dance these days. What’s next, Julia? You gonna slap on a fake nose, gain 30 lbs, and play a deaf mute who has to decide which one of her kids she’s going to let die? Wow. Sorry about that. It’s just that when I was younger I had this girlfriend who made me watch Pretty Woman like eight times and she would always complain about how I was more Hector Elizondo than Richard Gere. Which is true. And cool. But not what I wanted to hear as a 15 year old boy, and I have had trouble letting it go over the years. Anyway, back to the Grieco at hand. Since my brother never picked on me when we were growing up (except that time he wouldn’t get the 7-Up down from the top shelf of the refrigerator for me), I give you…Dragonslayer.

Dragonslayer
Peter MacNicol (Janosz from Ghostbusters II) plays a sorcerer’s apprentice whose master (Sir Ralph Richardson) is called upon to undertake a dragon quest by a boy who is clearly a young woman pretending to be a boy. After his mentor has a Kenobiesque death filled with honor and disappearing, MacNicol makes the quest his own. It turns out that the king of a somewhat distant land is using a lottery to choose virgin girls to sacrifice in order to appease the dragon, so unless the beast is killed young unspoiled females will continue to die needlessly. After an initial battle between MacNicol and the dragon, the monster is thought to be dead, causing the virgin girl dressed as a boy to start dressing as a girl again. The young sorcerer falls in love with her, which is understandable as she does have a kind of Nancy McKeon circa 1983 thing going on. Then, the dragon returns, so the girl prepares for the dragon lottery, but the daughter of the king sacrifices herself instead. MacNicol goes to battle once more and resurrects his mentor using water, fire, and an amulet that houses the deceased’s soul. The two fight the dragon, and after a much-prolonged duel MacNicol destroys the amulet, killing the dragon and his master in the process. The king swoops in and takes credit for the deed, while the young sorcerer and his love ride off together giggling and dreaming of their future television careers.

On the surface, Dragonslayer has everything you could want in a film. Generaissance costumes, fake Shakespeare speak, less-than-subtle statements about the economic bias of the military draft, and a weapon forged in the fires of lore. Ultimately, though, it’s just plain boring. The movie is way too long and it lacks the phrase “Lord of all horses,” which is unforgivable. I'm going to give it 2 ½-Griecos (see ratings). While I don’t hate this movie as much as my brother does, I would suggest you watch Krull instead. I mean fire steeds, a Cyclops, and the Glave? Now that’s something any sibling will love.

Ratings

1-Grieco: There’s probably a re-run of Full House on. Watch that instead.

2-Griecos: Washed-up stars, watered-down action, and my friends are at work. What the hell.

3-Griecos: Bad religious symbolism abounds and the gunplay is damn near balletic. My Friday night is looking up.

4-Griecos: If Looks Could Kill. All I’m sayin’.

**If ever I should come across a film that rates 0-Griecos, may God have mercy on your soul.

I'd Hope to Tell Yeh

I tend to get sick more often than anyone should. It’s never a normal cold or anything, either. I always have a temperature of like 103 and I can’t lift up my head. The only good thing about this condition is that doctors tend to give me really good medicine like the clear cough syrup or pills that render me useless (yes, even more than normal) for three or four days. Anyway, here are some quick reviews of movies I have watched while under the weather and the influence of prescription pain medication. If you find yourself in a similar situation you might want to check them out.

(Note: Subtract 1-Grieco if your fever is not high enough to induce hallucinations. See ratings for explanation.)

They are Among Us: Parasite aliens feast on collagen to keep their skin looking young and fresh. Keep an eye out for the always-awesome Corbin Bernsen as a no-good plastic surgeon and Tron himself (Bruce Boxleitner) as a man trying to do what’s right for the human son and the alien wife he loves. Honestly, I wished I was watching Rowdy Roddy Piper in They Live the whole time. (2-Griecos)

Krippendorf’s Tribe: Richard Dreyfuss plays an anthropologist who turns his family into a fake tribe for a documentary he films in his backyard. He finds fame, money, failure, redemption, the respect of his kids, and the love of Jenna Elfman along the way. Watched it twice in two days. Took me at least half-an-hour to figure this out. After the realization, I continued watching. (1 ½ -Griecos)

Joe Dirt: Spade in a road movie for a change. I like Spade and I like that cute blonde girl who played the elusive Eve on “Dawson’s Creek.” I’m sure this movie isn’t good, but at the time I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen. (3 ½-Griecos)

Corky Romano: Watched this right after Joe Dirt. Kattan plays the son of a mob boss who wants to be a veterinarian. He goes “undercover” for the family and poses as an FBI agent…or something. I don’t know I was really in the thick of it when this one was on. I laughed. I cried. Seriously, I cried at effing Corky Romano. Man, I miss that doctor.
(2 ½-Griecos)

Gymkata: Can I say “our generation’s Citizen Kane?” Is that allowed? (4-Griecos)

Ratings

1-Grieco: There’s probably a re-run of Full House on. Watch that instead.

2-Griecos: Washed-up stars, watered-down action, and my friends are at work. What the hell.

3-Griecos: Bad religious symbolism abounds and the gunplay is damn near balletic. My Friday night is looking up.

4-Griecos: If Looks Could Kill. All I’m sayin’.

**If ever I should come across a film that rates 0-Griecos, may God have mercy on your soul.

I Still Want a Hula Hoop

When I lived in Chicago I worked at a coffee shop on the famous Magnificent Mile. Apparently if you line a street with countless shops and busloads of tourists from Ohio it’s magnificent. Anyway, this wasn’t any old coffeeshop, it was the one that is bent on world domination. Let’s just call it Cartrucks. On my fourth day at Cartrucks, I was scheduled at 5:45 AM. Let me tell you, there’s nothing cooler than stepping outside at 4:30 in the morning to walk to the train in the middle of a Chicago December. Wearing my Hoth gear, I made it to my train stop and tried desperately to convince myself that the $7.50/hr they were paying me made it all worthwhile. Here is a quick side note for those of you who live in places filled with love and goodness. 4:30 AM is not a great time to be out and about in certain areas of Chicago. It’s a part of the day when you’ll most likely be greeted by an eclectic mix of guys telling you they could destroy you and other guys who simply want your money. Having no money to give, I watched appreciatively as a talented man on the platform performed a monologue about the rules and regulations of his home planet, “Elsewhere.” As he bowed to me and an imaginary crowd, my train arrived.

I braved the wind while walking down the Mag Mile (that’s what the cool kids call it), and I couldn’t help but turn my thoughts to malicious acts of Fight Club-style anti-consumerism. Now, I love buying stuff and I hate Fight Club, but your daughter does not need a doll that looks and dresses just like her, and I’m pretty sure Niketown could have limited its shoe collection to three or four floors instead of going for the full six. Staring down the empty street with its Christmas lights and decorations, I began to dread the moment when it would fill with thousands and thousands of people all looking wide-eyed and confused as they uttered phrases like, “Oh yeaaah? The tax is that high in the city? Because back home it’s just 5%.” Shaking the image, I entered my place of business. As I attempted to defrost, the assistant manager who was a good five or six years younger than me approached. He took a deep breath like Kilmer does in Top Gun before he talks about the tragic death of Goose and said, “Yeah, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but you’re late.” He tapped his digital watch and I saw that it was 5:47 AM. I was two minutes late. I braved wind, ice, snow, and that alien guy from my neighborhood, but I guess that wasn’t enough for Johnny No-cream-peppermint-soy-latte. I said I was sorry, clocked in, and then went to the back to put my apron on. I heard the Kilmer deep breath again and turned to see the assistant manager. “Yeah, at Cartrucks we don’t clock in until we put our aprons on.” I took a beat, bit my tongue, untied my apron, handed it to the assistant manager, said “Thanks for the opportunity,” and walked back out into the cold. As my eyes froze and I realized I was unemployed again, I dreamed of a day when my biggest problem would be sitting through a bad Christmas movie about a guy who is miserable in Chicago while I lounged on the couch on a Texas December day with temperatures in the mid-60s. That dream finally came true yesterday.

Surviving Christmas
Surviving Christmas stars Ben Affleck as a millionaire Chicago ad-wizard who lives a life of excess and loneliness. After some requisite shots of the “L” train, we get to the staple of most modern Christmas movies; the forced plot that has seemingly dramatic undertones but is really just a poor set-up for some wacky physical comedy and spiritual redemption. The plot in this movie has Affleck returning to his childhood home. In order to avoid spending Christmas alone and perhaps to impress his vapid girlfriend, Ben offers the family who is living there $250,000 to pose as his family over Christmas. The parents, James Gandolfini and Catherine O’Hara accept, and Ben immediately reverts into some sort of manchild, talking in a bizarre Tobey Maguire-esque crackly voice and calling everybody mommy and daddy. The sheer creepiness of the plot is ignored, and eventually Christina Applegate, the daughter of the house, returns home for the holidays. Me thinks I smell a romantic subplot devoid of romance. From here, things strive for the Capra as we find out that Gandolfini and O’Hara are going to separate, and Affleck and Applegate fall in love, kiss, have a fight, deal with the arrival of Ben’s girlfriend, and stop speaking. Luckily, the previously selfish and somewhat delusional Affleck knows exactly what must be done for things to work out. At a community theatre production of A Christmas Carol, he helps O’Hara and Gandolfini rekindle their love, hooks his “adoptive” brother up with an attractive girl, and smoothes things over with Applegate, thus becoming a part of the family he paid to hang out with him just as the horrible, horrible Chicago snow starts to fall.

What a strange little career Academy Award winner Ben Affleck has had. It seemed like he kind of cared for a while, but I guess once you star in a video canoodling J. Lo’s tanned ass, you’ll do just about anything. I have to admit I laughed at parts of this movie. I hate myself for doing it, but it’s true. O’Hara is funny, Gandolfini does the work, and Applegate is still cute. However, that doesn’t make up for the pacing, dialogue, or story. I give it 2-Griecos (see ratings). Watch a Christmas movie with Chase or Murray and you’ll be much happier. Or check out that one where Nick Cage realizes his life would have been better if he had given up the million-dollar job and stayed with Tea Leoni. That one totally makes me cry.

Ratings

1-Grieco: There’s probably a re-run of Full House on. Watch that instead.

2-Griecos: Washed-up stars, watered-down action, and my friends are at work. What the hell.

3-Griecos: Bad religious symbolism abounds and the gunplay is damn near balletic. My Friday night is looking up.

4-Griecos: If Looks Could Kill. All I’m sayin’.
**If ever I should come across a film that rates 0-Griecos, may God have mercy on your soul.

Movies I Thought were Good When I was a Kid (Part I)

I turned 30 about two months ago. Yes, I know that lends all of my previous posts an air of sadness and despair that you probably didn’t see before, but it’s the truth. I’m 30, and I spend more time worrying about the fall of the House of Grieco and whether the world is ready for the live-action film version of Zaxxon that I’ve been working on for the last three years than I do about finding a job that requires me to actually leave the house and, you know, put pants on once and awhile. Anyway, since my birthday I have longed to reconnect with the movies that changed my life when I was young. You know the ones where upper middle class white kids have nothing to really worry about, so they revolt against a generation of Baby Boomers who just don’t understand. I had so many to choose from that I couldn’t decide where to start. Then, I saw it just sitting there among my tapes and DVDs. A true portrait of what it takes to throw off the shackles of conformity, so you can live your life. Your life, man. Not theirs. Not theirs, man. They can’t tell me what to do. They can’t buy me off. I didn’t ask for that car on my 16th birthday or that brand new Gibson guitar, and I sure as hell didn’t ask to be born.

Pump up the Volume
Wow. When I saw Pump up the Volume for the first time I was so fired up I started cursing in front of my friend’s parents when they came to pick us up from the theater. Sadly, it doesn’t have quite the same impact when you watch it now.

Sweet lord, how much of an idiot was I? This movie is one of the worst things I have ever seen. Sure, I was only 14 at the time, but come on. Christian Slater (who worked with Grieco in Mobsters) smirks his way through the film as a nerdy teen who finds release at night as Happy Harry Hard-on, host of his own pirate radio show. As an evil principal and oblivious teachers try to force kids with low standardized test scores out of the local high school, Happy Harry instills a sense of purpose in the youth of the community by pretending to masturbate on the radio and by doling out piss-poor advice. As he becomes more popular and more elusive, Harry is tracked down by a girl who is supposed to be 17 but whose crow’s feet betray the fact that she’s clearly in her mid-20s. She’s fond of giving Harry this sultry/confused stare and reciting the worst poetry you’ve ever heard. Seriously, I know all girls try their hand at the Plath stuff, or at least the Dickinson stuff if they’re the sweet, shy type, but this is just horrendous. I’m pretty sure the phrase, “Eat me, beat me, talk hard!” is thrown out there, but that might be something I made up as a result of the painkillers I had to pop to make it through to the end. After Harry’s advice leads a beauty queen to blow up her stuff in the microwave and she becomes hideously scarred, and he fails to talk a teen out of killing himself, the dreaded FCC gets involved. We then see oddly shaped breasts in an awkward make out scene, and Harry and his love take to a Jeep so they can broadcast live while being chased by the Feds. Amidst the chaos, Harry’s vocoder fails and his true identity is finally exposed. You see, he was the one who was being untrue to himself the whole time. It was him, y’all. In the end, Harry gets busted, but the cheers of support from the teens and the voiceovers of new pirate radio shows that run over the credits lead us to believe that he has saved us all.

Now, I have as much angst as the next kid. Trust me, my 10th grade copy of The Communist Manifesto is marked and marked and marked, and I’m still pissed that the damn football team (Go Wildcats!) got new uniforms while we super cool theatre folk had to wear old tuxes in an Oscar Wilde production that had all the funny parts cut out of it. Still, I can’t in good conscience give Pump up the Volume more than 2-Griecos. At least that would be the case if the movie didn’t feature the UK Surf Mix of the Pixies’ “Wave of Mutilation.” Since it does, it gets 3-Griecos (see ratings). You should watch it if only to remind yourself that turning 30 isn’t that bad. Sure, back then I was going to change the world and shake things up Slater-style, but let’s be serious. I taped “Lost” and it’s really cold outside.

Grieco: The Thinking Man's Depp

Sorry about the delay on this. We had a fraction of an inch of sleet, the power went out, the whole town shut down, and all hell broke loose. Things are under control now, though.

If you’re like me, “21 Jump Street” taught you exactly what it is like to be an attractive young cop who goes undercover at a high school in order to bring down a seemingly endless supply of pushers, thugs, and rapists. Just remember, if you wear a ‘do-rag and a vacant stare, the other kids won’t catch on no matter how many dudes you haul off in cuffs.

“21 Jump Street” starred a group of up-and-comers including that girl who eventually married NFL journeyman quarterback Rodney Peete, one of the 47 DeLuise brothers, and Johnny Depp. Things were great on the show, but it didn’t really get sexy until Grieco came on board in season three as Booker, a cop with an attitude and the eyebrows to match. He was a loose cannon who played by his own rules. Yeah that’s right; he didn’t take guff from nobody. Grieco’s streetwise Booker was the perfect foil for Depp’s pretty boy, and together they were unstoppable.

After “Jump Street” and the spin-off “Booker,” we all believed Grieco was destined for Hollywood greatness. Sure, there was Mobsters and the incomparable If Looks Could Kill, but after that Grieco slowly faded into obscurity as Depp inexplicably became a box office draw and critics’ darling. Depp worked with Tim Burton and bedded A-List starlets, while Grieco took roles in movies that only I have seen and fixed his eye on Louise, that nice waitress down at the Stuckey’s. My question is this; what’s up Depp? You can’t throw Grieco a bone? I mean Hanks put Scolari in That Thing You Do and that godforsaken Polar Express. You can’t do the same? I bet you’re just worried that if you share the screen with Grieco you will be exposed as the sham you truly are and he will walk off with the Academy Award you so desperately covet. Listen Johnny, I know the portrait of you that hangs in your closet has become scarred and grotesque with the weight of your sins while you remain ageless and get better looking each year even as the French sink their claws in and convince you that it’s ok to show up on the red carpet in those hats, frilly shirts, and neckerchiefs you seem to fancy so much. Your perfect bone structure and haunting, fragile eyes don’t fool me, Johnny. You, sir, are a usurper of the thrown, and when the noble Richard returns to reclaim the fame and glory that is rightfully his, he will show you clemency. For Grieco is an honorable man. Then, and only then, will you come to realize that no matter how many Golden Globes you win, no matter how many European supermodels you have beautiful children with, and no matter how many millions of people line up to watch you prance around in whatever remake of a Disney ride you’re starring in this week, Grieco is King. He has shaken off his role as the true leader of men to answer life’s greater questions, but he shall soon return to lead us all into a glorious future.

Um…Johnny, if it turns out that I’ve just been watching LOTR way too much and all that stuff doesn’t happen, couldn’t you just make Grieco Pirate #3 or something? Come on, who’s that going to hurt?

Original. Not Cool Ranch

I had a horrible dream last night. I was trapped in the body of a jetsetting seller of high-end watches and couture. I spent my days searching for the straightest pant leg in Manhattan and learning French phrases that I could drop to impress waitresses who desperately wanted to believe that I was somebody important.

After a loveless tryst with two Rockettes and a field hockey player, I lectured an ungrateful group of auction goers on the lost art of the half-Windsor. Eager to find more palatable company, I turned to the mirror. There, I saw a man who had to shake off the ethnic name his father had given him in order to achieve true greatness. Settling on Dash Stanforth or Greg Frostbottom, I headed into a bar where I waxed philosophical on my unrivaled ability to smoke fine cigars to a collection of Crantini-sipping socialites. Soon after, I found myself alone in my oversized apartment with only my shoehorns and my inheritance to keep me company. Filled with something akin to human emotion I stumbled into my wood-paneled, candle-lit closet. Slowly, as I scanned the racks and racks and racks of clothing, I began to weep. For you see winter was coming, and I had left my Hermes scarf at a bordello in Prague.

When I woke up from this dream I felt dirty and confused. I mean, I though all pants had straight legs. Not to mention that the idea of living in New York even in a dream makes me want to chop off my right hand. Stupid Jeter. In order to shake off the nightmare I did what any normal person would do. I grabbed a bag of Doritos, laid down on the couch, and watched Leprechaun.

Leprechaun
I can only assume that the majority of you have seen this gem of a horror/dwarfploitation film, so I will keep it brief.

After a prologue that explains how the leprechaun’s gold was stolen and ended up in a country home in America and how the leprechaun was kept at bay in a crate with a four-leaf clover on top of it, we catch up with our main character, Tori (Jennifer Aniston), and her father who are moving into the house where the leprechaun slumbers. As soon as Aniston came onto the screen wearing high-waisted shorts and a nose that I’m sure is foreign to the kids down at the Central Perk, I called out to her (as people are want to do at horror movies), “Run Jen! Get out now! All that awaits you is heartbreak at the hands of an orphan-wielding home wrecker!” Alas, my words did not reach her, because she marched forward to meet a handsome local, a child, and the fat guy from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and Teen Wolf giving the best “I’m mildly retarded and awestruck by the world around me, so don’t you just want me to live at all costs” performance since Ernie Hudson in The Hand that Rocks the Cradle. As the three (looker, kid, wide-eyed innocent) work on Aniston’s and her dad’s new home, the gold is found, the clover is removed, and the leprechaun is freed. What follows is a succession of scenes in which little person all star, Warwick Davis, runs around in fierce makeup and a Halloween costume from Costco yelling, “I wants me gold” in a leprechaun accent. Just so you know, a leprechaun accent is a combination of high-pitched pirate and British with just a bit of Standard American thrown in. After the leprechaun drives around in a little electric car, rips people’s body parts off, and wreaks general havoc, he is stopped by our gang of reluctant heroes. As the sun rises (literally and metaphorically), Aniston realizes that she can find love and happiness in this new small town and everyone is happy. At least until that tramp with the pouty lips and formidable chest shows up and starts strutting her stuff around. I mean, look at her. Is that anyway to behave? Whore.

Leprechaun is entertaining and I believe a must-see for anyone who loves bad movies. Warwick Davis works hard and makes me long for a Willow sequel. Still, this original installment is no match for Leprechaun in the Hood or that one where the leprechaun goes back to the hood, so I give it 3-Griecos (see ratings). Watch it, enjoy it, and remember that its tiny star has appeared in Star Wars movies, Harry Potter movies, and he’s even gotten to work with Kilmer, so he’s basically living my dream. I know, I know. At least I’m 5’5”.

Ratings

1-Grieco: There’s probably a re-run of Full House on. Watch that instead.

2-Griecos: Washed-up stars, watered-down action, and my friends are at work. What the hell.

3-Griecos: Bad religious symbolism abounds and the gunplay is damn near balletic. My Friday night is looking up.

4-Griecos: If Looks Could Kill. All I’m sayin’.

**If ever I should come across a film that rates 0-Griecos, may God have mercy on your soul.

Man-oh-Man it's Manticore

Slap my ass and call me Grieco, Manticore is the most ridiculous film I’ve seen since my mom dragged me to Sweet Home Alabama. That doesn’t mean it isn’t worth watching though.

This made-for-Sci-Fi-Channel movie starts out as a hit-you-over-the-head political statement about the current war in Iraq. The story follows a group of American GIs including the requisite Sergeant who is torn between doing what’s right and following orders, a fast talkin’ southerner played by a guy who will play Bill Paxton in the as yet un-produced Paxton: A Life, and a badass woman soldier who is better than the boys at everything. Even Lawn Mower Man Jeff Fahey shows up as a bitter Major who doesn’t have the line “War is Hell” but seems to say it with every subtle lift of his eyebrows. After 20 minutes of hearing our men and women in uniform kick around dialogue like “are we liberators or an imperialist power sent to crush their religion?” we finally get down to business. You see, it turns out that Iraq does have a Weapon of Mass Destruction…and it’s an f’in manticore. That’s right, the mythical winged lion/man/scorpion beast has been invoked and he is not pleased. As soon as old Manti shows up, the streets start to run with blood. This one dude gets cut in half, this other guy has some sort of talon pierce his eye, and various extras lose their innards. All is filmed in that Private Ryan Normandy Beach style. You know, the “sure I’m a billionaire who bagged Kate Capshaw after I directed her in Temple of Doom and I’m responsible for most of the biggest movies of all time, but I can still keep it real” style? Anyway, our heroes are tracking a missing embedded “GNN” reporter named Ashley Pierce, and with the help of a young Iraqi who I’m pretty sure muttered “They mostly come out at night. Mostly,” they find her in the very place where the manticore dwells. Some back-story about Sacred Twins and a guy who claims he’s the rightful King of Babylon comes out, but don’t worry about it. The GIs find Manti and they start firing on him. Oh America, when will you learn that your bullets are no match for an ancient creature bent on purging the Earth of this plague called Man? After a Stealth Bomber fails to destroy the manticore, main characters start dropping like flies, each with a more dramatic death than the last. We are then left with the sergeant, the army lady, and the kid. Just when you think all is lost, the plucky threesome uses information gleaned from an old legend to determine that the only way to bring down the manticore is with an oversized mirror, a digital video camera, and a sledge hammer. I’ll give that to you one more time in case you missed it. The only way to bring down the manticore is with an oversized mirror, a digital video camera, and a sledgehammer. Sadly, this bush-league trick pans out and the monster of lore is slain. With allusions to a possible sequel hanging in the air, Hicks, Ripley, and Newt walk off triumphantly into the desert.

After recovering from the whole ordeal with a tall glass of Thera Flu, I decided to give Manticore 2 ½ -Griecos (see ratings). While the manticore itself looks like it was stolen from season two of “Land of the Lost” and the sets were clearly lifted from the producer’s kid’s Aladdin-themed backyard birthday extravaganza, the gore is pretty good. Also, the director’s name is Tripp Reed and that has to be worth at least ½-Grieco.

Ratings

1-Grieco: There’s probably a re-run of Full House on. Watch that instead.

2-Griecos: Washed-up stars, watered-down action, and my friends are at work. What the hell.

3-Griecos: Bad religious symbolism abounds and the gunplay is damn near balletic. My Friday night is looking up.

4-Griecos: If Looks Could Kill. All I’m sayin’.

**If ever I should come across a film that rates 0-Griecos, may God have mercy on your soul.

She's Runnin' a Little Bit Hot Tonight

I was lucky enough to hear Van Halen’s “Panama” on the radio last night. Just as Diamond Dave reached down between his legs to ease the seat back, I was transported to a time when jeans were tight-rolled and nothing was as it seemed. Visions of failed attempts to ask that girl Megan to slow dance to Foreigner’s “I’ve Been Waiting” came back to me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was going down on the playground at 3:00. Then another image came to me. Something so beautiful that I will never forget it; my friend Matt’s baby blue Haro with front and rear pegs and a rotor that let you spin those lightweight handlebars as you popped up on the back tire. I mean Ryan’s Mongoose was pretty cool, but man that Haro.

RAD
Rad works under the premise that the only way to truly shake off those small town blues is to get really good at BMX freestylin’, ignore your SATs, and compete against America’s top gymnast in a race on the death-defying Hell Track. And my friends, the premise works. Our young hero, Cru Jones, makes his way through a series of trials and tribulations involving Rocky’s wife, my favorite Martian (show not movie), Stamos’s woman on “Full House,” and gold medalist Bart Connor. In a classic American tale that was clearly filmed in Canada, Cru has to decide what is really important. Is it money? Fame? “Ass-Sliding” with Lori Loughlin? Or simply being rad? After a sexy slow-dance-on-bikes scene set to “Send Me an Angel” involving Cru and Loughlin’s masculine stunt double, we’re primed for the big race. As we wait for the fateful moment, Talia Shire as Cru’s mom yells and wrings her hands just like you knew she could and Big Business gets put in its place by good old fashioned stick-to-itiveness. With the support of his friends, family, and his newfound love Cru stares into the eyes of his enemies (Connor and twins who may or may not be Tomax and Xamot) and prepares to ride. In the end, Cru has to pull a bold back flip out of a Kix cereal bathtub thingy to win the race, save the town, earn his mother’s respect, get the girl, find a new friend in his former adversary, and wear his bandanna around his thigh with pride.

Rad totally gets 4-Griecos (see ratings). I know it seems like I’m just handing out 4-Griecos this week, but come on Rad is awesome. However, for some reason it is hard to find in the video stores these days, so if you do get a hold of Rad make a night out of it. Put on your old Hysteria ¾-sleeve shirt and a pair of Cavariccis, invite sweet little Megan over, lace up your Zodiacs, fire up the VCR, and enjoy!

Ratings

1-Grieco: There’s probably a re-run of Full House on. Watch that instead.

2-Griecos: Washed-up stars, watered-down action, and my friends are at work. What the hell.

3-Griecos: Bad religious symbolism abounds and the gunplay is damn near balletic. My Friday night is looking up.

4-Griecos: If Looks Could Kill. All I’m sayin’.

**If ever I should come across a film that rates 0-Griecos, may God have mercy on your soul.