And Chevy Chase as the Voice of Cho Cho

While I was watching The Karate Dog (I actually prefer just Karate Dog) lat night, a friend of mine asked The Ghost of Gene Siskel and me if we would take roles in a picture like TKD. Our answer? A resounding “hell yes!” Believe me, I would come to the set just happy to be alive and working in the biz. And let’s be honest, taking on a part in Karate Dog seems like a natural progression from telephone psychic, menu hander-outer, door-to-door stuffed bunny salesman, and barista. So, yes I would love to be in Karate Dog. Did I love watching it? Well, that’s a different question altogether.

The Karate Dog
We open with Pat Morita (RIP) breaking into a sciencey type place and stealing a vile of green liquid. He then goes home and starts chatting with his dog, Cho Cho, who has no problem chatting back. Soon, ninjas break in, kill Morita, and run off with the Midori or whatever the hell is in the vile, but not before Cho Cho lays down some really disturbing CGI Kung Fu. Cho Cho then gets rescued by a nerdy cop who’s working on a police computer program called C.O.L.A.R. (Yep. It’s that type of film.) Together, the cop and the dog will find the man responsible for Morita’s death. Enter Jon Voight as Morita’s former student. He sports an awesome ponytail and a southern accent that’s part Phil Hartman’s Bill Clinton and part Foghorn Leghorn with some perfect facial expressions to match his well placed stutters. Voight’s entrance prompted TGOGS to ask, “Is he the worst good actor in the world or the best bad actor?” It’s a question that clearly can’t be answered by mortals, but I did suggest that maybe he’s the best good actor in the world, but he’s just gotten real lazy. Anyway, the fat kid who plays Billy Bob in Varsity Blues plays Voight’s son, so it was nice to see those two reunited. Meanwhile, the nerdy cop is falling in love with Jaime Pressly. This leads to a cringe-worthy Cyrano de Bergerac scene in which the dog feeds the cop romantic lines via his earpiece. I can’t say anything else about this scene that hasn’t already been said about a steaming pile of monkey feces. So, of course Voight is the bad guy. It turns out that the green liquid is a performance enhancing drug that Voight’s been giving to dogs at the dog track in order to cash in on underdogs (sorry). But now he’s ready to take the formula to the people. From there, the movie devolves into your typical anti-steroids/pro-talking dog buddy cop action comedy. Eventually, Cho Cho and Voight engage in a Matrixesque Kung Fu battle that recalls The Highlander. The dog wins, the cop and Jaime Pressly kiss, and Cho Cho is a hero!

When Karate Dog started, there were four of us watching it. In the end, it was just me, y’all. Before he headed out, TGOGS suggested that you could hear the pills in Chevy Chase’s voice. However, as I continued to watch, I concluded that that is simply what regret sounds like. You should see this film. It has to go down as one of the most ridiculous movies ever made, and Voight is truly spectacular. However, the main guy is almost unbearable, the CGI dog is just creepy, and seeing Pat Morita in his weakened condition was very sad. And Chevy…oh Chevy. You were Fletch, my friend. Where did it all go wrong? Whoever she is, she must have screwed you up something fierce.

Anyway, I’m giving The Karate Dog 2 ½-Griecos (see ratings). Watch it, but feel free to fast forward to the scene when Voight enters in some sort of bold Silver Kimono/Native American jacket. That’s when the shit really starts going down.

Why Do You Hate Krull?

The results from the best ‘80s fantasy vote are in. Here’s how it broke down:

Labyrinth: 2

Neverending Story: 2

Dark Crystal: 1

Flashdance: 1 write-in vote

Bruce Boxleitner's Snakehead Terror: 1 write-in vote

Legend (Both Versions): 0

Krull: 0

(Note: I did catch some abuse for leaving out The Last Unicorn.)

I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. Not by Krull’s performance. I mean I realize that the Glave doesn’t hold sway over all men’s souls as it does over mine. I’m not even surprised by Flashdance, because I know for that particular voter that movie is truly the ultimate ‘80s fantasy. I’m surprised that The Dark Crystal didn’t perform better. I honestly thought it would win this thing, but I suppose the power of the luck dragon and of Bowie’s package were just too much.

I would like to thank BTS for introducing Ice Pirates into the discussion. It’s a bold piece that I must revisit as an adult. I also would like to encourage any new readers to GIK to feel free to vote on the nonsense I put up here. I promise we’re all very nice.

Now, for the big news; you all know that I’ve been plagued by the fact that Karate Dog simply hasn’t been available on Netflix. Well, last night it was on ABC family, and you know I taped it. Look for an in depth review sometime this week. In the mean time, I encourage you to revisit the plot to get truly prepared.

I hope everyone had a good long weekend, and I hope you’re ready for some serious effing Grieco this week.

We Know Your Legend's Ree-ee-al

Opening night of Talent Show 1989 went very well. Now that it's up and running I can finally return my focus to GIK. I have some potential hits waiting on my DVR, and my mom just sent me a new batch of DVDs, and you know she always sends at least one Grieco-worthy picture in the lot. I don't want to give too much away, but I will say that I plan on spending this afternoon watching SciFi channel's watered down version of Abominable, which I don't think is really a sequel to Sasquatch, but Lance Henrikson does make an appearance in both. Speaking of Lance Henrikson, please check out his imdb breakdown. It's perhaps the greatest collection of titles I have ever seen. I mean the man is working on Pumpkinhead III and IV simultaneously, and that says nothing of Red Faction II or Dream Warrior aka A Man Called Rage.

If you haven't already done it, cast your vote for best '80s fantasy piece, for tomorrow is the last day to do so. Enjoy the three day weekend, and look for GIK to be back in full swing on Tuesday.

Word.

Shameless Plug #2

Hey y'all. The voting on the best '80s fantasy piece has been a little slow going. Right now, The Dark Crystal and The Neverending Story are battling it out with one vote each. I realize that summertime is upon us and folks are busy learning to love again, so I'll keep the voting open for the remainder of the week. In the meantime, I just want to let everyone know that a play wrote, Talent Show 1989, opens tomorrow night at the Play Theatre. If you're in the Austin area come check it out. You can also listen to an interview I did for the show along with GIK regulars Sherpa and Obidiah on KUT 90.5. It airs all this week in the morning on John Aielli's show.

Alright, now get to voting. Krull needs your support.

Tangerine Dream

I have loved the movie Legend for most of my life. I mean it has everything you could ever want in a film; a young wide-eyed Cruise with long hair, a short tunic, and the belief that he would someday conquer the world; sweet Mia Sara who as Sloan in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and in my mind many, many times taught me what it was to be a man; and Tim Curry playing Darkness, who is perhaps the most metal incarnation of a Satan figure ever captured on film, and it’s Tim Curry, so even underneath all of the makeup you can catch glimpses of Wadsworth and Dr. Frank-n-Furter. So, I finally got around to watching the director’s cut of Legend this weekend. It restores several scenes that were cut, and perhaps most importantly, it nixes the Tangerine Dream score for the original (Note: The original score was only used for the European release.). Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the semi-prog-synth journey that is Tangerine Dream, but the other score really makes Legend a totally different movie. It restores a classic fairy tale quality to it that’s just not there in the other version. The added scenes also fill in some huge plot holes, and the less-than-super-happy ending is far superior to the original rush job that they pulled. Now, I’m not going to turn my back on the version that I have loved all of these years, but I will say that any fan of Legend really needs to check out the new cut.

Alright, that brings us to the subject of today. While I was watching the new Legend, I tried to figure out what my favorite fantasy movie of that era was. There are several that I believe are closely linked in style, tone, and awesomeness, but I just can’t settle on one. I have created a list, and I would like your votes. Oh, apologies to the Twins and I’m sure many others, because The Last Unicorn doesn’t make my list. I’m sorry. It’s a girl movie. There, I said it. I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted.

Here’s the list:

Labyrinth
It’s got Bowie. It’s also got a young Jennifer Connelly, who like Mia Sara had a huge impact on my youth. It has some bold songs, great puppets, and Hoggle. Hoggle, y’all.

Legend (either version)
I know many of you probably haven’t seen the version I covered today, but the original still kicks ass.

Krull
The Glave, the fire steeds, the Cyclops. Krull is underrated and sadly most people I know haven’t seen it. It rips off Tolkien at every corner, and I’m pretty sure it was made for coke money, bit it’s still truly bold.

The Never Ending Story
Oh Bastian, just say her damn name. The Nothing is coming, and that can’t be good (or can it Obadiah?) In order to stop the Nothing and save Fantasia, the dorkiest hero ever put on film must join forces with Atreyu and a ragtag band of special FX. This is a classic, and the fact that you can tell it’s poorly dubbed because it was originally made by some Eastern Europeans makes it even cooler.

The Dark Crystal
Oh man. This movie is still awesome. I think it’s the most dramatic of the lot, and I think it’s trying to answer the larger questions. It also has some of the greatest puppets ever created. However, it’s so hypnotic at times that it can lull you to sleep.

That’s the list. I know there are more out there, and feel free to bitch about stuff I left off, but please vote on the list as given, it will really help me out.

Zombie Rave

Sometimes when that hallowed orb Luna gives way to that sonofabitch the sun, I awake to the horrid sounds of the alarm clock. In my half-waking state, I imagine that I’m getting out of bed to go to work on the set of a live-action movie version of Galaga. Then, I realize that I work from home and that the alarm clock isn’t for me at all, so I quickly close my eyes and go back to sleep for another four hours. Eventually, when I do roll out of bed, the thoughts of video-game-based movies still linger in my head. Such was the case when I decided to watch House of the Dead.

House of the Dead
The movie is based on a first-person shooter of the same name. I have played it many times in the little movie theater arcade, and I really like it. There’s nothing quite like gripping a plastic machine gun in your hands and firing off rounds at zombies that keep popping up out of nowhere. Watching the movie is another story.

The film opens with one of those voiceover/still-shots introduction of the characters. Some might call this device Brechtian; others would say it’s the work of a talentless hack. Regardless, we meet a bunch of rich 20-somethings. One is a girl who used to date the main guy, but they broke up so he could focus on work and she could focus on her fencing. Seriously, that’s why they broke up. Anyway, there are some other fairly attractive folks and they all want to get to a rave on an island off of Washington or somewhere. They charter a boat captained by Jurgen Prochnow and his mate Clint Howard who clearly are the only ones who know how ridiculous this thing is. Prochnow smokes cigars while killing zombies like no one else, and Howard sports a hook-hand and bizarre vocal choices so you know he’s doing the work.

Cut to the rave. The main guy is already on the island and imbibes in alcohol with the other ravers. OK, as someone who spent a little time at raves (Kind Effect, y’all) I’m always offended by the way raves are depicted in movies like this. I mean where is the pasty emaciated kid who sucks on his pacifier that says “Daddy’s Little Girl” while desperately trying to score some Vitamin C or Vicodin to “kick the X back in?” (Note to young and old readers: X is what those of us who have reached or are about to reach 30 call E.)

Cut back to the ship. The others finally arrive at the rave, but nobody’s there. Nobody that is except for zombies! Eventually, they run into the main voiceover guy and learn what’s going on: Zombies rule the island. There’s then a sepia-toned flashback involving a mad Spaniard whose experiments led to his banishment from Spain and an unholy army of reanimated corpses. And yep, you guessed it; he’s still on the island after all of these centuries. As the zombies kill random C-listers, the main C-listers fight back. As they shoot the walking corpses, the film is intercut with scenes from the video game. I honestly have no idea what the desired effect of this is. It’s just baffling. Finally, the zombies are dead and the Spaniard reveals himself with blade in hand. Luckily, our skilled fencer (remember her?) finds a sword and battles it out in a Matrix-inspired bullet-time finale. Amidst the death of the already-dead, love blossoms and our couple gets back together, work and fencing practice be damned!

OK. I think this movie wanted to be Evil Dead II. The main kid even looks a little like a young Bruce Campbell, but believe me he’s no Bruce Campbell. The whole picture misses the boat entirely. Everyone just looks kind of confused but really psyched about getting work. I’m giving it 1 ½-Griecos (see Ratings). The ½-Grieco is for Prochnow and Howard. Go play the game, watch your copy of Army of Darkness, and start writing a Galaga movie I can star in.

Shameless Plug

Hey y'all.

Please check out my book The Guardian and The Shroud: Jack Rat's First Adventure. It's being carried by literaryroad.com. You can also listen to me ramble on about the book at http://blog.literaryroad.com/

It's a bold kids' piece and it's pretty metal. Thanks, and tomorrow I'll return to Grieco.

I Pull Out My Beretta

Whilst in LA, I had the chance to get fully caught up on Trapped in the Closet. I had watched parts 1-7 on BET, but I had no idea that the midget (sorry, little person) would go on to shit himself and that the Southern wife of the cop who was banging Sylvester’s wife was actually pregnant with the midget’s (sorry, little person’s) baby. I should have given y’all a spoiler alert. I apologize. Anyway, there is nothing I can say that will give Trapped in the Closet its full due. It may be the most amazing thing ever made in any medium. The sheer egomania/mild-retardedness/oddly-proficient-vocal-talent that R. Kelly needed to take on all of the roles and make the other actors lip synch is just amazing. The insurmountable plot holes, the detailed recounts of every little thing that happens (i.e. “She said “damn,” I said “damn”), the way it seems to be either 30 minutes or 4 hous long, and the fact that every choice that is made both by the filmmakers and the characters is wrong but somehow seem so right make this one of the most entertaining musicals/operas/soaps/movies/videos/TV shows you will ever see. All that, and it’s set in Chicago.

A question of Griecos is out of the question. An entire site would need to be created and a new rating system would have to be mulled over for ages to truly score this piece. However, I am interested to know what will happen in "Part 13" and beyond. I have some thoughts, and I need your opinion.

A. Sylvester and the gang are visited by aliens. It turns out that the aliens are the ones who actually impregnated the redneck girl, causing the cop’s head to explode as he smokes his 15th cigarette of the film. To get a handle on the situation, Sylvester pulls out his gun and kills the lot of them.

B. Sylvester’s wife turns out to be the one responsible for setting up the preacher and the deacon. It also turns out that she lured her friend (the preacher’s wife) into sleeping with Sylvester, through a miracle of science she knocked up the redneck girl, and through her powers of telepathy she caused the midget (fuck off) with the big dick to shit himself. Astounded by his woman’s Machiavellian scheme, Sylvester pulls out his gun and kills the lot of them.

C. It’s all in Sylvester’s mind, rendering everything I have sat through completely and utterly useless. Pissed that “R.” would stoop to pulling a Shyamalan, I pull out my imaginary gun and pretend to shoot that bastard Adrian Grenier. I know that’s got nothing to do with anything, but I really hate that guy.

D. Other (Please elaborate).

Submit your thoughts, and if you have any idea when the next round will be out you must let me know.

L. Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron Away

I’m back from LA, and I’ve learned a few things. First, they’re not lying about the weather out there. It truly is perfect. Second, Scientologists are really fucking scary. I know everybody jokes about it and we all think Cruise has gone off the deep end, but until you’ve stared it in the face I don’t know if you can fully appreciate it. I saw the Celebrity Center, which is everything you’d expect: A resort-style castle surrounded by greenery, sports cars, and perfectly veneered teeth. The center for “normal” folks is not so fancy. When I first passed it I gave out an uncontrollable scream of horror like when Damian sees the church in The Omen. I don’t know what it was, but I felt as though all the Darkness of the world resided within those walls. The building is massive, complete with high-rise dormitories (you know for the people who live there), a barbecue/meeting area (you know for fresh meat), and a giant cross overlooking a pavilion (you know for striking fear into the hearts of men). The whole compound was in a tizzy while I was there, because the anniversary (50th? 1000th?) of the publishing of Dianetics was approaching, and there was a great event to plan. Driving past the blinking NBA-arena-style sign that promised to rid me of stress and anxiety, we came upon the Psychiatry: An Industry of Death Museum. OK, in case you skimmed over that, here it is again. The Psychiatry: An Industry of Death Museum. Now, my tour guide through the peaks and valleys of Hollywood (you know him as Anonymous) told me that the Scientologists owned much of the area we were in, so although a building might be called “The Philosophical Research and Regeneration Center” (or something like that), the Scientologists could very well own it. I’m sure the Psychiatry: An Industry of Death museum was theirs. After all, Cruise did tell us that psychiatry is a “pseudo-science” and that he knows the history of it and you don’t Matt Lauer so suck on that. Look, I don’t want to get into a debate over the merits of psychiatry here, but regardless of your feelings, the name of that museum is just scary as shit. In order to cope with my growing stress and anxiety, I went to In and Out Burger and then hit MI: III. What? You think I’m gonna miss that movie just because Cruise is batshit crazy and he supports an evil cult hell-bent on world domination? Please. What do you take me for?

MI: III
I know I don’t normally review new movies, but since it’s summer blockbuster season I’ll probably be making some exceptions. OK, I saw MI: III in the Dome, which might be the greatest theater ever conceived by Man. You have reserved seats, the screen wraps around the wall (but it’s not like seeing a normal movie on IMAX where everyone’s pores are really big), the digital projection/sound are unmatched, and Robert Downey Jr. was hanging out, and that guy totally just worked with Kilmer. As for the film, it has everything you’d expect: Cruise running, laughing, jumping, laughing, and having an awkward love scene; Ving Rhames making deep-voiced wisecracks; some hot chicks; rubber masks; and serious plot holes. The most disappointing aspect of the movie is that Phillip Seymour Hoffman is tragically underused. He’s totally awesome from the second he comes on screen, but they needed to give him like at least 30 more minutes. (note to director J.J Abrams: we get it; Cruise and his girlfriend are really in love. Jesus, now get back to PSH and some explosions.) (Another note to J.J. Abrams: I swear to God if they show another rerun of "Lost" I will hold you responsible and I will personally come back to Hollywood to hunt you down and destroy you using only a polar bear, a wheelchair, and the abs of sweet Evangeline Lilly.) Sorry, back to the movie. So, Crudup does alright and the "Shaun of the Dead" guy is funny, but Laurence Fishburne gives one of the most baffling, misguided performances since The Matrix Revolutions. While I was entertained, I found myself longing for MI: I, Jon Voight, and the NOC List. Seriously, where the hell is the NOC list?

The movie doesn’t really fall into the standard GIK rating system, so I’ll give it 2 ½ Lord Xenus. It’s worth checking out, but you could just as easily stay home and read up on silent birth.

The Land of Grieco

Hey y'all, I'm heading out to LA for a few days to make it big and generally keep it real. I shall return on Wednesday with tales of Grieco and reviews of movies. Yes, I will finally start reviewing movies again. Meanwhile, please feel free to go back to the beginning and relive all the good times we've had together.

And on the 8th day, God created Grieco and said that it was badass.

Will It Stop the Rage, Michael?

First, I just want to thank The Ghost of Gene Siskel for stepping in and knocking it out of the park. I now realize that every day that I don’t see Savage Dawn is a day lived as a coward.

Anyway, it’s good to be back. Now, those of you who know me most likely realize that I have a seemingly endless capacity for getting pissed off about things that really aren’t worth getting angry about at all. Over the past year or so I have tried to tone down the rage, but that’s really just so my lovely girlfriend won’t be afraid of me. However, there are a few things happening right now that must be talked about.

The Miami Vice Remake
OK, I can accept the fact that no one is even bothering to come up with new ideas in Hollywood, but if you’re gonna bring "Miami Vice" to the screen, you set it in the fucking ‘80s. This is a TV show that was conceived, written, and directed by cocaine. Now, you (yes you, Michael Mann) are going to come in with this “gritty” piece about undercover work? Please. Let me guess, do the cops (I refuse to even refer to them as Crockett and Tubbs) get in too deep? I saw some photos and everything is all grey and black. If ocean blue and coral aren’t in the costume design, why are you even bothering to call it Miami Vice? Is anyone even going to utter the word “cartel” or “Panamanian shrimper?” I know that some be-vested yuppie with feathered hair and the mustache to match is not going to make sweet love to a chick in a neon-green high-cut bikini on the lower deck of a speed yacht , and that’s just sickening. And Collin Farrell? Please. That man is not worthy to hold Don Johnson’s dick mid piss. I call for a GIK boycott of this picture. That’ll show ‘em. You hear that Mike? You just lost like $30.

The Omen Remake
Yes, I know I harp on remakes, but this one is disgraceful. The Omen is one of the greatest horror films out there. If you haven’t seen it, there is a good chance that you have absolutely no idea what life’s about. Now, I saw a preview for the new one and it looks as thought their basically using the original screenplay, but they’re throwing in some spooooky devil imagery like hooded figures appearing in the mirror and shit. Oh, and Julia Stiles is taking on the lead female role. Julia Stiles, people! That girl isn’t worthy to hold Lee Remick’s boosh mid wax. And, I think Damian is an American kid. As if we don’t all know that the Antichrist is a pale young Brit (or at least a Russian).

Carlos Mencia
There’s nothing I love more than comedians who tell you how offensive they are before they make a joke. Through the non-stop commercials that Comedy Central shows for this douchebag’s show and the one time I couldn’t lunge for the remote quickly enough, I have heard the great Carlos utter phrases like “get your hate mail ready.” Yeah dude, you’re incendiary. Your observations about how black guys date white girls and how gay men are into other men are really fucking insightful. Bring me the head of Carlos Mencia! This guy is not worthy of licking Carrot Top’s taint mid bench-press.

Gatorade
Y’all remember the good old days when you could walk into a 7-11 and all you had to choose between was green Gatorade and orange Gatorade? Maybe the fancy stores introduced fruit punch (red) into the mix, but that was it. Now, sweet lord! There’s a flavor for every force of nature. And I don’t care what you say, every new version; whether it’s rain, frost, ice, maelstrom or whatever, it all tastes like either green or orange Gatorade but slightly watered down. That volleyball girl (Keri Walsh) in the “Rain” commercials is kind of hot, though.

Alright, I could get into some other stuff like calling yourselves Journey when Steve Perry isn’t in the band or Hollywood’s refusal to produce my piece about an explosives expert who moonlights as a special-ed teacher, but I’ll save that for another time. Besides, the painkillers are starting to kick in and I’m not quite as angry as I was a few minutes ago…hey look, a "Sex and the City" rerun. God I love those four whores and their totally realistic escapades through the wasteland that is New York. I mean any city that Derek Jeter calls home must be awesome. That gum-smacking, shit-eating prick is my favorite.