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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So what exactly the fuck is so good about today? We don't say MLK day is Great Monday. It's not really supposed to be a celebration when our leaders die is it? I can see being stoked when the dude jumps up from the grave and says "Psych!" That is definitely cause for hiding boiled poultry embryos and eating candy, but unless you're Irish I don't think it's really appropriate to celebrate the day when a man croaked after hours of agonizing suffering. Maybe this should be Somber Friday or 3 Days Until Liftoff Day or I'll Be Back Friday. But Good Friday seems a bit excessive to me. The real bad news is that if you're reading this your boss is probably some godless heathen that is forcing you to slave away your alt tab finger between this and some spreadsheet on the Lord's Day. The good news is that I watched a few movies and TV shows this week anyway and the show must go on regardless of any carpenter's death, unless of course Harrison Ford croaks because I will not work through an Indiana Jones marathon. By the way, Han shot first goddamnit!
Normally when someone accuses me of being wrong I take the GW approach and just send more firepower at them. But mark your calendars net rats. I will finally admit to being wrong today. I once said that the first half of the season of "American Idol" was the most sadistic fun on television, but I stand corrected. Thanks to votefortheworst.com's internet campaign along with the help of 7 million telemarketers in India, Sanjina Molotov keeps on trucking his way through round after round of the so-called singing contest. Last weeks dot-hawk was far more interesting than this weeks prajapati perm-mullet, but regardless of the turd gurgler's hairstyle he is hands down the worst entertainer of any kind to be featured on a weekly show since Jimmy Falon. Thank you America for proving me wrong by keeping the biggest piece of crap around for as long as possible. I can only hope that the androgynous brown spokesthing tortures the world long enough to make Hasslehoff cry tears of joy at the season finale.
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.
It started when two young brilliant filmmakers thought that putting a couple of Reservoir Dogs in a Mexican vampire movie was a good idea. Sadly it was not. The only good idea in From Dusk Til Dawn was wrapping a throbbing python around Selma Hayek's sweaty fish taco. But Quentin's coked out bravado and Rodriguez's Spanglish shock therapy didn't stop there. The new BFF's decided to try their hand at more indie fair with their two parts of the listless Four Rooms. Sure, Antonio Banderas' "Don't Misbehave!" and Quentin's homage to Hitchcock were the best parts, but that doesn't mean I should ever have to pay to see what is basically an overglorified student film. Unless of course it's Misty Mundae's softcore debut Vampire Strangler. It wasn't until Frank Miller gave the boys some real source material that they were able to turn their collective pulp fractions of movies into a whole film that meant something with Sin City. But now with their art perfected and Rodriguez's own studio at their disposal, the artsy auteurs push the Austin city limits with their latest gift to throwback shock cinema, the double feature Grindhouse.
Rodriguez's splatterfest, Planet Terror, lacks the classless wit of Tarrantino's crafty dialogue, but quickly makes up for it with mutating transformations and more mutilated zombies then all the Living Dead movies combined. The return of Bruno won't be official until Bruce Willis debuts his Ice skating epic Die Hard 4: Die Harding, but his cameo here in his now familiar military fatigues helps move along a story that is so pointless you don't feel like you missed a thing when Rodriguez intentionally uses "Missing Reel" to skip right back to the action. Freddy Rodriguez finally one ups Rainn Wilson in proving that "Six Feet Under" was actually a comedy by turning in yet another ham-fisted performance that finally feels like it is being showcased in the right place. But in the end nothing is hotter than shoving your gun in Rose McGowan's gooey stump. That's no euphemism. She has a fucking gun leg! Nothing could warm my cockles more, except maybe a guy who likes to kill girls with his indestructible car! 300 star Gerard Butler might be the new Snake Pliskin, but Kurt Russell finally gets a chance to stretch his Jack Burton chops again as bonafide bad guy Stuntman Mike in Quentin's contribution Deathproof. In a throwback combination of Slumber Party Massacre and White Line Fever. Tarantino turns a group of sexed up vixens into either hardboiled heroines or mushy roadkill. And both are thoroughly entertaining. Quentin's loyalty to the past pays off with him recasting sexy Rosario Dawson and he even gives Uma Thurman's Kill Bill stunt double Zoe Bell a chance to "act" and do her own stunts.
But in spite of the two 85 minute main feature ridiculous genre romps the best thing about Grindhouse is the ridiculous trailers created for the intermission. Eli Roth's Thanksgiving has officially topped the parade in animal house. And Rob Zombie's Werewolf Women of the SS has to be the best thing Nic Cage has done since Vampire's Kiss. Grindhouse is everything fun about B-movies all coked up like Quentin and refried like Robert's lunch. If you liked Pride and Prejudice pretty please see this movie so you can start a glorious chain vomit that won't end until the last frame. If you however happen to be a fan of Dead Alive, The Wraith, or Evil Dead then I guarantee this will be the most entertaining 3 hours of your life since your favorite Dungeon Master moved away to Poughkeepsie.
Welcome to the show that proves even rich white dudes can have baby's momma drama. It's just too bad we can't all cut the chick's head off when things don't go our way. Regardless, I always said if they put more naked chicks in Shakespeare that I'd care more about Kings and Queens of yore. Well "The Tudors" has done exactly that. Though it is certainly not Shakespeare, at least 10 minutes of every hour long episode is dedicated entirely to fucking, which makes exactly about 10 minutes of this show any good. Sure Sam Neil is a great actor. You can't hate on classics like Dead Calm, The Piano, Hunt For Red October, or even Jurassic Park. And fucking Sirens is the kind of faggy art house crap that gratuitous nudity can actually make bearable. But who the fuck does this Jonathon Rhys Meyers guy think he is? Someone just told me he was in Matchpoint with Scarlett Johansson, which totally fucks me up. I have seen that movie 5 times and I totally thought he was Angelina Jolie. The version of that movie that I have in my head is definitely better; with Angelina's engorged lips suckling Scarlett's ample bosom. But to my dismay that is actually a dude, not that you'd know it if you've seen Velvet Goldmine. But nonetheless the full lipped female impersonator Meyers does his best to channel his "I'm the King of England" in full on "Give me back my son" Gibsonian roar, but simply falls short of the mark that even the child actors on "Rome" achieved.
There is one actor of note however that must be mentioned in this titillating tale of tawdry triumphs and treacherous tribulations and that is Ann Boleyn herself Natalie Dormer. Sure she's got a crooked pouty mouth and a slightly upturned Miss Piggy nose, but when you put that together with her blue within blue fremen-like eyes and her naked rack, she definitely gets the waters flowing in my stillsuit. Lots of other beauties grace the King's court throughout this series, but regardless of Showtime using every bit of it's marketing muscle short of saying "It's Not TV, It's Almost HBO" these Tudors are still an economy car compared to the four-door sedans run on the premiere pay channel. Sure, "Weeds" is great. But if I had to choose between that and "Curb Your Enthusiasm" or "Entourage" the choice would be simple. "The L-word" is busy having sex in the other city but forgets to have fun with itself. "Dexter" is killer, but can it stack up to the legacy of "The Sopranos"? And of course "Rome" has set the bar so high that it couldn't even compete with itself. So what's left is a Showtime presentation that tries to make up for quality with copious amounts of nudity. As much as I appreciate this form of compensation I'd much rather shoot my gooey Spidey webs to 15 seconds of internet porn and then watch an hour of good television instead. Isn't the "I Love New York" reunion episode on?
1. It seems like every time I turn around someone has another reason to skip out on work, eat a bunch of junky food, or give each other 5 dollar gift cards, but these holidays are fucking lame in my book. So instead I ask you TPP readers to make your own holiday. What day would you like to celebrate and how would the festivities go down?
2. Just in time for Easter, Caption This!
3. What is the best/worst grindhouse, b-movie, or exploitation movie in your opinion? Personally I love the baby terror genre which was of course headlined by the classic It's Alive movies and the hysterically frightening Basketcase.
Bonus: I couldn't resist getting you pumped up for Grindhouse so here is the faux trailer for Thanksgiving. This is definitely NSFW!
Posts: 2923 Rank: 1 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 4/6/2007 10:16:48 AM
and jewish. Am I the only one here?
Napalm, excellent excellent reviews. I want to see grindhouse tonight, but no one wants to go with me. my friends suck. this is what my friend Kerrie said, "ummm, why would i want to see a movie with a girl with a gun leg? that could never ever happen, could it? either way, its dumb". Sometimes I wish you guys lived in philly just to be my movie companions......among other things. <---sorry.
I had no intention of watching the Tudors, but now that I know its dirty and sexy, I have to check it out. nothing makes me hotter that medieval fucking.
1. I'd like to start National Miners Day. It could take place in August. It would be celebrated by locking yourself up with friend for a few days and just getting disgusting plastered. Not that trapped miners get plastered, but I'm sure they would have wanted to. You are not released until the alcohol (oxygen) runs out.
2. WARNING: The Mega JC Action figure will not raise the dead, turn water to wine, or resurrect. Holy Spirit sold separately.
Posts: 32 Rank: 41 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Amherst, MA
Posted: 4/6/2007 10:37:03 AM
I'm not sure if I find Jonathan Rhys Meyers believable as Henry 8. Have you seen portraits of that guy? He was fat and rather revolting. Still, I like pre-modern sex almost as much as Christine, so I will also probably check it out.
1. Though they already celebrate my favorite holdiay, St. Patrick's Day, I suppose any excuse to drink and get shitfaced is okay by me. Maybe we could just pick a day and call it Guinness Day or something. Sorry, I know that's not terribly original, but whatever.
2. That can't be Jesus, he didn't have dark skin. Did he?
Posts: 2923 Rank: 1 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 4/6/2007 10:51:21 AM
for #3.
But another holiday could be Say What's on Your Mind Day. One day a year, you are a loud to say whatever you want. You can call your mom a C-word to her face. You can tell your best friend her breat always smells like the pipe connected to the garbage disposal. and no one can do anything about because you said it on SWOYMD.
This holiday should be followed by Punch the Shit out of Someone day.
1) would be "No speed limit day". I have a real need for speed, and I want to see what my new Z will do (don't worry I still got the Caprice). Plus, we will get to hear cool more stories from Toque.
2) Nick - That can't be me (I'm a light-skinned mutt). That's a younger Berry White.
3) Favorite B movie - Any movie from the 70's that has Pam Grier showing her tits.
After I cash my check and get my "package", I am gonna check out the last showing of Grindhouse with my new 19 year old girlfriend!
Posts: 1265 Rank: 7 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
TPP Island, NY
Posted: 4/6/2007 11:48:22 AM
my bad.
Does nobody remember the guy that sold baseball cards on QVC, "A Mark MacGuire rookie card BE BUYING people, Be Byeing, Look what do we got here, a Sammy Sosa, BE BUYING, this is a once in a lifetime event"
even better question anyone working today, not much action on the message boards?
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Normally when someone accuses me of being wrong I take the GW approach and just send more firepower at them. But mark your calendars net rats. I will finally admit to being wrong today. I once said that the first half of the season of "American Idol" was the most sadistic fun on television, but I stand corrected. Thanks to votefortheworst.com's internet campaign along with the help of 7 million telemarketers in India, Sanjina Molotov keeps on trucking his way through round after round of the so-called singing contest. Last weeks dot-hawk was far more interesting than this weeks prajapati perm-mullet, but regardless of the turd gurgler's hairstyle he is hands down the worst entertainer of any kind to be featured on a weekly show since Jimmy Falon. Thank you America for proving me wrong by keeping the biggest piece of crap around for as long as possible. I can only hope that the androgynous brown spokesthing tortures the world long enough to make Hasslehoff cry tears of joy at the season finale. 
It started when two young brilliant filmmakers thought that putting a couple of Reservoir Dogs in a Mexican vampire movie was a good idea. Sadly it was not. The only good idea in From Dusk Til Dawn was wrapping a throbbing python around Selma Hayek's sweaty fish taco. But Quentin's coked out bravado and Rodriguez's Spanglish shock therapy didn't stop there. The new BFF's decided to try their hand at more indie fair with their two parts of the listless Four Rooms. Sure, Antonio Banderas' "Don't Misbehave!" and Quentin's homage to Hitchcock were the best parts, but that doesn't mean I should ever have to pay to see what is basically an overglorified student film. Unless of course it's Misty Mundae's softcore debut Vampire Strangler. It wasn't until Frank Miller gave the boys some real source material that they were able to turn their collective pulp fractions of movies into a whole film that meant something with Sin City. But now with their art perfected and Rodriguez's own studio at their disposal, the artsy auteurs push the Austin city limits with their latest gift to throwback shock cinema, the double feature Grindhouse.
Rodriguez's splatterfest, Planet Terror, lacks the classless wit of Tarrantino's crafty dialogue, but quickly makes up for it with mutating transformations and more mutilated zombies then all the Living Dead movies combined. The return of Bruno won't be official until Bruce Willis debuts his Ice skating epic Die Hard 4: Die Harding, but his cameo here in his now familiar military fatigues helps move along a story that is so pointless you don't feel like you missed a thing when Rodriguez intentionally uses "Missing Reel" to skip right back to the action. Freddy Rodriguez finally one ups Rainn Wilson in proving that "Six Feet Under" was actually a comedy by turning in yet another ham-fisted performance that finally feels like it is being showcased in the right place. But in the end nothing is hotter than shoving your gun in Rose McGowan's gooey stump. That's no euphemism. She has a fucking gun leg! Nothing could warm my cockles more, except maybe a guy who likes to kill girls with his indestructible car! 300 star Gerard Butler might be the new Snake Pliskin, but Kurt Russell finally gets a chance to stretch his Jack Burton chops again as bonafide bad guy Stuntman Mike in Quentin's contribution Deathproof. In a throwback combination of Slumber Party Massacre and White Line Fever. Tarantino turns a group of sexed up vixens into either hardboiled heroines or mushy roadkill. And both are thoroughly entertaining. Quentin's loyalty to the past pays off with him recasting sexy Rosario Dawson and he even gives Uma Thurman's Kill Bill stunt double Zoe Bell a chance to "act" and do her own stunts.
Welcome to the show that proves even rich white dudes can have baby's momma drama. It's just too bad we can't all cut the chick's head off when things don't go our way. Regardless, I always said if they put more naked chicks in Shakespeare that I'd care more about Kings and Queens of yore. Well "The Tudors" has done exactly that. Though it is certainly not Shakespeare, at least 10 minutes of every hour long episode is dedicated entirely to fucking, which makes exactly about 10 minutes of this show any good. Sure Sam Neil is a great actor. You can't hate on classics like Dead Calm, The Piano, Hunt For Red October, or even Jurassic Park. And fucking Sirens is the kind of faggy art house crap that gratuitous nudity can actually make bearable. But who the fuck does this Jonathon Rhys Meyers guy think he is? Someone just told me he was in Matchpoint with Scarlett Johansson, which totally fucks me up. I have seen that movie 5 times and I totally thought he was Angelina Jolie. The version of that movie that I have in my head is definitely better; with Angelina's engorged lips suckling Scarlett's ample bosom. But to my dismay that is actually a dude, not that you'd know it if you've seen Velvet Goldmine. But nonetheless the full lipped female impersonator Meyers does his best to channel his "I'm the King of England" in full on "Give me back my son" Gibsonian roar, but simply falls short of the mark that even the child actors on "Rome" achieved. 
There is one actor of note however that must be mentioned in this titillating tale of tawdry triumphs and treacherous tribulations and that is Ann Boleyn herself Natalie Dormer. Sure she's got a crooked pouty mouth and a slightly upturned Miss Piggy nose, but when you put that together with her blue within blue fremen-like eyes and her naked rack, she definitely gets the waters flowing in my stillsuit. Lots of other beauties grace the King's court throughout this series, but regardless of Showtime using every bit of it's marketing muscle short of saying "It's Not TV, It's Almost HBO" these Tudors are still an economy car compared to the four-door sedans run on the premiere pay channel. Sure, "Weeds" is great. But if I had to choose between that and "Curb Your Enthusiasm" or "Entourage" the choice would be simple. "The L-word" is busy having sex in the other city but forgets to have fun with itself. "Dexter" is killer, but can it stack up to the legacy of "The Sopranos"? And of course "Rome" has set the bar so high that it couldn't even compete with itself. So what's left is a Showtime presentation that tries to make up for quality with copious amounts of nudity. As much as I appreciate this form of compensation I'd much rather shoot my gooey Spidey webs to 15 seconds of internet porn and then watch an hour of good television instead. Isn't the "I Love New York" reunion episode on?
