Every other Friday, resident Marine & entertainment reviewer, Joaquim Harold “Napalm” Jones, Gy. Sgt. USMC (Ret.) , takes a look at the shit flung on screens and out of stereos.
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Britney auditions for the King and I, Anna Nicole's baby has 4 daddies, James Brown's corpse is rotting, Lindsay Lohan gets out of rehab for just in time for a killer party and Jessica Simpson sells pizza while being lactose intolerant all seem to be the most important headlines in the world this month while apparently Black History only dates back 15 years, at least according to cable television where it appears that Do The Right Thing and I'm Gonna Git You Sucka carry some educational information about the story of Africans in America. Sure DTRT has some quotes from Malcolm and Martin at the end, but those could be quotes from "Malcolm in the Middle" and Martin Lawrence for all their historical relevance. Just because a movie has black people in it does not mean that it has anything to do with history. I'm not gonna be all Mencia about it and bitch about how brothas got the shortest month of the year or how Lincoln is facing backwards on the only brown colored piece of US currency, but I am saying that Diary Of A Mad Black Woman is at best a Flip Wilson update and Barbershop isn't history because you can still get your shit clipped and talk smack in any major market in the US. It's might be culture but it ain't history when it happens everyday. And these are the movies made by black filmmakers! I think it takes a Jew who understands the impact of being historically fucked to make the Color Purple. It's like one big "Your name is Toby" beatdown by Hollywood to run New Jack City just because it is Black History month instead of Amistad.
But I guess I'm no better since instead of watching all ten hours Roots, I chose to call Charlie DeMarco and listen to him proclaim that the only satisfying conclusion to the Anna Nicole Smith situation would be if her son were the father of her daughter. That certainly would explain why they were all killing themselves. And why can't we put these fucking people in the ground! Anna Nicole's body may be filled with enough plastic for her to last a few weeks, but for fucks sake would someone please bury the Godfather of Soul! I know Tomi Rae Brown and I don't mean to name drop like Ron Jeremy on the "Surreal Life" because I would certainly pick someone better than her if I wanted to be cool, but she is right to want to bury James Brown on his property that he wanted to be his version of Graceland. After hours of conversation on those topics I realized that my sat phone bill would probably rival the entire gross national product of Ecuador this year, but we weren't done. Charlie and I decided that there isn't one single person who could win the Presidency in 2008. Obama is a black dude with a muslim name so he's fucked. Julianni is an Italian with a lisp so he sounds like he wants to get fucked. And Hilary is apparently a cross dresser now since she rightfully thinks that she would need to be a man to get elected. Consider that the right cross in this weeks 1-2 combo, Tom A.
And speaking of this weeks L-word moment, I have solved the Britney Spears riddle. After K-fed cheated on her, which I would have done as well having seen the damage two childbirths can do to the bearded jaws of life, Britney was convinced to swear off men by gal pal Paris Hilton. Then she learned how much more fun it is to do blow off another woman's twat than to futilely try to flick her own bean that looks like a migrant worker wrapped in a blanket. Of course as soon as she fell in love again, the slutty heiress stopped returning her phone calls when Paris realized that Britney was not going to be a pretty sight for her next sex tape. Britney of course continued to do blow off her own wizard's sleeve, and made hundreds of paranoid frantic calls and promises to Paris about cleaning up her act like, "you'll never have to hold my hair back while I puke again." The rest is history. In fact, it's the only history you will be getting this month unless of course Passenger 57 is indicative of the Black Experience in America.
Five Ears for awesome shit that makes me want to fight, fuck or kill!
Four Ears for well above average stuff that gives me a chubby.
Three Ears for well-rounded but average... like a white girl's ass.
Two Ears for subpar material that makes my crotch itch.
One Ear for shit that makes me want to fight, fuck, or kill for the wrong reasons.
An added testicle for shit that is in between.
Maybe J-Lake is the man to help bring sexy back afterall, and not with some herky jerky Timbaland beat either. Though the credit shouldn't really go to the boy band balladeer who will have definitely shed his Mickey Mouse club image with this hard "R" rated flick. He takes a small role here as pussyfied grunt named Ronnie who is so scared of life that he probably couldn't use his dickbeaters to fold a tight crease in his rack even with rudimentary Ikea cave drawing instructions. Nope. The real star here is the essence of gritty throwback cinema, Samuel L. Jackson. I don't mean Sam Jackson who appeared in countless letdowns like The Man, S.W.A.T. and the remake of Shaft. I'm talking about dat nigga Samuel L. who brought crackhead Gator to life, who updated pimpin in Jackie Brown, the man who stole scene after scene in Pulp Fiction and even made watching a dismal Geena Davis movie like Long Kiss Goodnight enjoyable. The real "Bad Motherfucker" is back without internet fanboys having to tell the director what Samuel would say if thrown on a plane full of poisonous serpents.
Director Craig Brewer takes the sweaty pimpin style of his movie Hustle And Flow and channels it through the sermonizing of Jules Winnfield into a living, breathing, fucked up snapshot of delta blues grit. It's honestly amazing someone didn't do this sooner. Let's face it, delta blues is the original "Springer Show" with all its conniving whorish women and the men who fight over their temptations. So here it is on film in all its violent, sexy, and disturbing glory. Its Superfly meets Crossroads minus any Karate Kid cheesing it up. And this time the deal is with God, not the devil, so you know the results are gonna be fucked up. Samuel L. even learned how to play guitar and sing just for the movie. And believe me when I say his version of the century old blues classic "Stagger Lee" would make the Parental Advisory label on a Too Short record blush. You haven't heard the blues until you get Samuel L. literally "motherfucking" it up.
But wait there's more. For ten dollars not only do you get Samuel L. Jackson playing a conflicted delta bluesman struggling with religification, and Justin Timberlake illustrating why it's great that southern white folks trust Army recruiters and Fox News more than common sense, but also for the mere price of admission I'll thrown in a half naked white chick chained to a fucking radiator! That's right! For the cost of a pack of cigarettes in New York City that you can't even smoke inside, you can witness Christina Ricci portraying the local nymphomaniac who catches a hellified beatdown at a party and is left for dead on the side of the road and is then subsequently rescued by Jackson who thinks God wants him to save this slutty white girl by literally restraining her desireswith 10 yards of heavy chain. This is what Hollywood should call a tentpole movie, because Ricci had me raising the roof in my fatigues from her first sexy sweaty frame. I would have bet a million dollars after seeing Casper that she was going to fill in the area around her giant forehead with gallons of fat. And she was close for a while. But for once the overly image conscious anorexia and bulimia of Hollywood starlets has paid off. Her fivehead still puts the local IMAX to shame, but the body is banging. It might be a Sisyphean task, but I think I could get my rocks off to her forever with the combination of this movie and her full nude scene in Prozac Nation. So act now and you have my guarantee that Black Snake Moan is guaranteed to deliver like a 1998 Karl Malone in any non-essential regular season game that didn't involve the Bulls or my name isn't Ron Popeil.
Continue to the next page for the question of the week and the results of this years Napie Awards.
Posts: 1542 Rank: 6 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
New York, NY
Posted: 2/23/2007 9:22:47 AM
C'mon, I can't be the only one that's ever called the porn version of the phone number that gives you the time. Anyway, I'm intrigued by "Black Snake Moan" now that you pimped it so hard right there. The trailer was weird to say the least, but I might give it a try. Shit on this comment all you want, but I saw JT in "Alpha Dog" and I actually thought he did all right. This comment has already wasted enough nonsensical space, so I'll come back with my answers later.
Posts: 2923 Rank: 1 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 2/23/2007 10:05:47 AM
There is a lot to chew this week. First, It is disgusting that I have seen more promos for president's day sales than for black history month. HBO has been running the color purple, but that is all. Movies like barbershop, DTRT, and Friday are not helping the situation.
Ever since Justin Timberlake got Punk'd, I can not look at him without laughing. he's a pussy and that's all there is to it. I love Christina Ricci, despite the fivehead. She is really talented.
I finally saw Departed and if it doesn't win....I will stop showering. But otherwise, I believe your awards went to the right people.
I am the whitest person in the world. Yesterday I said "krunked" for some reason and I had to stop and laugh at myself because it sounded ridiculous. But I am a sucker for black movies. I was the only white person in the theatre when I went to see Waiting to Exhale and Rosewood, which were both excellent movies. Angela Bassett is phenonenal. My favorite is Beloved. the movie gives excellent historical backround as well as the spirituality of african americans. The book was better, but its still one of my favorite movies. Glory was great too.
Last weeks article, Most damaging films in black histori, picked excellent choices, but I'm sticking with Tales from the Hood. That was horrible.
I have more to say, but this is really fucking long already. I'll be back.
i just wanna do blow and headbutt ricci in the vagina...forever
()
Post #: 4
Posts: 1375 Rank: 10 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
savannah, GA
Posted: 2/23/2007 10:29:33 AM
napalm, when i first heard about this 'black snake moan' everything about it pissed me off. exploitation of the delta blues (check out john hurt and roscoe holcomb of the appalachia for real blues), samuel jackson looking like a real life Curtis Low, and a white woman chained up outside of germany. but now...now i have to see this. 20% because of your review, and 100% because of that picture. it can safely be said that Ricky Bobby was a documentary, because I have honestly never seen anything more attractive than that dirty white woman, chained up, in a Confederate flag wife-beater. FUCK that was a great review. Semper Fi.
Posts: 80 Rank: 35 Joined:
10/21/2005
Location:
Canoga Park, CA
Posted: 2/23/2007 10:39:14 AM
Ricci's hole that is. And yes antony, you will actually like the movie.
Didn't see Glory on that list, Christine, which I personally consider a war movie. But there are definitely some brothas in there fightin and dyin for the man along side Ferris Bueller so I guess that is a pretty good call as a good black movie. Of course a Soldiers Story is my favorite black military movie. It probably wouldn't surprise you to know that Adolph Ceasar researched me for the part. Ooh Rah.
PS One of the people in pic B is Hilary Clinton. Here's a hint, it's not the one who looks like a woman.
Posts: 2923 Rank: 1 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 2/23/2007 10:45:56 AM
I don't like to object to someone who could remove my eyes simply by glaring at me, but Rosewood and Glory were not chick flix. And Waiting to Exhale may have been, but it was the first movie to let everyone else in on what goes on in a black woman's life. I think that is important. And Beloved is not a chick flick. i don't care what you say. It was excellent. My daddy was a marine and he'll kick your ass.
Sorry. don't hit me.
2. a) Its been 7 hours and 16 days, since you put me in a tabloid.....hand me the clippers b) Your gun is digging in my hip c) Hey Georgie.....wanna balloon?!?!?! d) I got nothing
3. Jack's taiwan flashback and the shit about his tattoos. I could have done without that.
Posts: 80 Rank: 35 Joined:
10/21/2005
Location:
Canoga Park, CA
Posted: 2/23/2007 11:00:17 AM
I would never hit a woman! I might choke, stab, or kick her, but a closed fist is some fucked up unnacceptable shit . And yes Rosewood is passing like Rashida Jones, but Beloved is for chokers of the cock.
I have to agree with Christine. Glory is much more than just a war movie, especially when Morgan Freeman has to lay the whip on Denzel's scarred up back.
On an opposite note, I can put up with Jack's Asia flashback if I get to see more of the santily clad Ling Bai.
Posts: 2923 Rank: 1 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 2/23/2007 11:04:51 AM
I didn't see your last comment to me....sorry.
The Tuskee Airmen was a good movie too. Lawrence Fishbourne was in it and he's awesome. While we're at, Any John Singleton movie was good. Boyz in the the hood, because it was a realistic display and higher learning because it showed different sides of the race spectrum.
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Maybe J-Lake is the man to help bring sexy back afterall, and not with some herky jerky Timbaland beat either. Though the credit shouldn't really go to the boy band balladeer who will have definitely shed his Mickey Mouse club image with this hard "R" rated flick. He takes a small role here as pussyfied grunt named Ronnie who is so scared of life that he probably couldn't use his dickbeaters to fold a tight crease in his rack even with rudimentary Ikea cave drawing instructions. Nope. The real star here is the essence of gritty throwback cinema, Samuel L. Jackson. I don't mean Sam Jackson who appeared in countless letdowns like The Man, S.W.A.T. and the remake of Shaft. I'm talking about dat nigga Samuel L. who brought crackhead Gator to life, who updated pimpin in Jackie Brown, the man who stole scene after scene in Pulp Fiction and even made watching a dismal Geena Davis movie like Long Kiss Goodnight enjoyable. The real "Bad Motherfucker" is back without internet fanboys having to tell the director what Samuel would say if thrown on a plane full of poisonous serpents. 
Director Craig Brewer takes the sweaty pimpin style of his movie Hustle And Flow and channels it through the sermonizing of Jules Winnfield into a living, breathing, fucked up snapshot of delta blues grit. It's honestly amazing someone didn't do this sooner. Let's face it, delta blues is the original "Springer Show" with all its conniving whorish women and the men who fight over their temptations. So here it is on film in all its violent, sexy, and disturbing glory. Its Superfly meets Crossroads minus any Karate Kid cheesing it up. And this time the deal is with God, not the devil, so you know the results are gonna be fucked up. Samuel L. even learned how to play guitar and sing just for the movie. And believe me when I say his version of the century old blues classic "Stagger Lee" would make the Parental Advisory label on a Too Short record blush. You haven't heard the blues until you get Samuel L. literally "motherfucking" it up.
But wait there's more. For ten dollars not only do you get Samuel L. Jackson playing a conflicted delta bluesman struggling with religification, and Justin Timberlake illustrating why it's great that southern white folks trust Army recruiters and Fox News more than common sense, but also for the mere price of admission I'll thrown in a half naked white chick chained to a fucking radiator! That's right! For the cost of a pack of cigarettes in New York City that you can't even smoke inside, you can witness Christina Ricci portraying the local nymphomaniac who catches a hellified beatdown at a party and is left for dead on the side of the road and is then subsequently rescued by Jackson who thinks God wants him to save this slutty white girl by literally restraining her desireswith 10 yards of heavy chain. This is what Hollywood should call a tentpole movie, because Ricci had me raising the roof in my fatigues from her first sexy sweaty frame. I would have bet a million dollars after seeing Casper that she was going to fill in the area around her giant forehead with gallons of fat. And she was close for a while. But for once the overly image conscious anorexia and bulimia of Hollywood starlets has paid off. Her fivehead still puts the local IMAX to shame, but the body is banging. It might be a Sisyphean task, but I think I could get my rocks off to her forever with the combination of this movie and her full nude scene in Prozac Nation. So act now and you have my guarantee that Black Snake Moan is guaranteed to deliver like a 1998 Karl Malone in any non-essential regular season game that didn't involve the Bulls or my name isn't Ron Popeil.
