Zombieland

Ok, you slime-drooling, flesh-eating, beasts out there, this movie was for you. Did you see your family members out there, or is that your family’s members scattered all over the streets, markets, Kemo Sabe Indian stand or the run down amusement park called Zombieland. There was more blood, guts, internal organs, and mutilated bodies lying around than you can count; and yours truly tried to count. I gave up at 637 after 7 minutes, so the answer to the question of how many zombies were killed is “upwards of 637.”

This movie was about a road trip with probably the last four non-zombies around all searching for something. Jesse Eisenberg’s Columbus teams up with Woody Harrelson’s Tallahassee, the former a namby-pamby worry wart with irritable bowel syndrome and a list of odd rules to live by, and the latter a whiskey-swilling cowboy with no rules but with an insatiable craving for Twinkies (not pink snowballs). These two misfits meet up and join forces with two sisters who trick the guys not once but twice. Their goal is to reach what they believe to be the safest spot around, an amusement park in L.A. void of zombies.

Of course, they take a few detours like the trip to the Beverly Hills palatial estate belonging to Bill Murray. They crash his pad and Bill appears looking like a zombie, but he confesses it’s only a makeup job for defensive purposes, except someone didn’t get the memo and Mr. Bill ends up like the zombies.

Funniest scene for me: early on, a woman driving her car chased by zombies, crashes into a truck, is thrown out of the windshield; she flies over the truck and suffers a 57 foot long case of facial road rash. Hee Hee Hee, Hoo Hoo Hoo, so funny.

Of course, there was a little BMG, BLG, BGG. To those of you “not in the business” that means Boy Meets Girl, Boy Loses Girl, Boy Gets Girl.

I’m sure I am forgetting a lot, but that happens a lot lately. So feel free to fill in the spots I missed.

Tonight’s festivities were attended by 13 honored members of MVFS. Considering the rain I figured we’d be lucky to get 5. Of course, there was a small issue to consider, the movie theater was dark at 6:00, due to power outage. One member took matters in his own hands, broke into the theater and let us all in for free and we had all the popcorn and jujube’s we could handle. Disregard the last sentence that was my “Walter Mitty” moment. The theater got their power back and the movie was back on.

Honorable Mention:
-Kudos to Bill who traversed the Santa Monica Mountains in torrential rains to join the group. Way to go Bill (did you pack the canoe?)
-Kudos to Vic for putting together the new MVFS website for all our postings and directory, if I only could figure out how to post and direct. The address is mvfs.wordpress.com. Way to go Vic.

I searched high a low in my files and attached is the list of members’ email addresses. I count 27, wow, maybe we should go national?

We decided on a Nove-Dic, but I don’t remember who that is. Well anyway, you know who you are and the ball is now in your court.

This is the last time you will hear from the Octo-Dic.
Marc

X-Men Origins: Wolverine

Dear MVFS loyalists,

OK, the only emotion I felt during this movie was dreading the inevitable murder of the kindly older couple, who, in one night, supplied Wolverine with a home cooked meal featuring a really nice looking pie, clothes from their dead or otherwise missing son, and a comfy bed in the barn. The old guy was barely given a few deep lines about the folly of revenge when he and his wife were killed by almost simultaneous bullets through their heads from, like, 2000 yards away.

Otherwise, it was pretty dreadful, and raised a lot of questions. Like, why is Sabertooth so pissed off at Wolverine? Is it because Wolverine decides after 150 years that he has had enough of mindless killing? And, why do they get into these cataclysmic fights, when both know that the other can’t be killed, or even seriously harmed, except that, apparently, neither can recover from a decapitation?

More questions. Who pays the utilities and water up on that mountaintop cabin? Oh, but, there was an interesting point. Before Wolverine got his adamantine claws, they were made of bone, leading to the conclusion that anger gave him a really big boner. OK, sorry.

As movie maven David pointed out, this debacle got a PG 13 rating because there wasn’t a drop of blood in the film. But, more questions. Why does Stryker always wear civilian clothes and a tie, even though he’s a Colonel, when the other old generals (they are always post retirement age in these films) wore their uniforms with all of the decorations, etc? Why didn’t any radiation escape from the nuclear towers, which were reduced to crumbling ruins? Why didn’t the mutant with the Holiday Inn eye mask just laser his way out of the jail cell? Finally, how much would a Vietnamese nail place in West Hills charge for a manicure for Sabretooth?

A highlight of the evening: we seem to be now deserving of free desserts (2 of them, at least) from the grateful owner or manager of The Rack.

OK, enough questions. We look forward to June’s film choice, which can only be better, from June DIC, Barry.

Respectfully submitted,

Vic

Transporter 3

What a day yesterday for people with eastern Eurppean names. Blagojevich arrested for trying to sell Obama’s senate seat, and Natalya Rudokoya or whatever soon to be arrested by a warrant issued from my chambers for even worse behavior. This was the most annoying performance I have ever seen. It was made even more painful by such idiotic dialogue as the following:

Natalya: You are the gay!

Frank: I am not the gay!

Would that Frank were the gay, so we wouldn’t have had to endure the inevitable love scene, although it was made more palatable by the herky-jerky camera movements, another annoyance which gave me a headache.

Plot? I guess so. The Environmental Minister of Ukraine (Ha! Why not the Environmental Minister of China for a sequel?) is concerned because his daughter has been kidnapped by representatives of an evil American (of course) company which wants him to agree to allow them to dump lots of toxic sludge in his country. How do we know this stuff is toxic? Easy. Because:

1. When some hapless crewmen open the barrel, crap is floating on the liquid inside;

2. a toxic fog or steam starts to escape; and

3. the hapless crewmen are immediately horribly disfigured.

The real star of the film is Frank’s Audi, which has the capacity to do the following:

1. sink to the bottom of a lake, yet rise to the surface with the lift power of only a few breaths from the tires; and then, start up almost immediately;

2. jump onto the top of a moving train;

3. enter said train by driving itself through the rear entrance

Other tried and true filmic devices were shamelessly exploited, such as:

1. Frank, the hero, has a reclusive and eccentric friend living in a chateau of sorts in a remote area of Ukraine, with a basement featuring the latest in computers and related equipment;

2. Frank has a fight in the garage of the recluse: he is encircled by about 14 thugs, each of whom patiently waits until a fellow attacker is dispatched by Frank before trying his luck against the hero.

Natalya’s finest moments come when she supplies restaurant reviews of her favorite culinary establishments in the various cities through which she and Frank pass, although it isn’t made clear WHY they have to traipse around in this fashion. As for me, I would have thoroughly enjoyed watching her be parboiled gently in a large stockpot of the toxic brew. But, no such luck. I was continually forced to look at closeups of her motley, patchwork face, with freckles that would make Tom Sawyer blush. Even at the very end, when I thought she was finally done with, her creepy hand slid up from the bottom of the fishing boat to caress Frank’s shoulder, which only made me shudder more.

Great turnout last night: 11 MVFS members! Now, don’t forget February, Valentines Day Month. Thank you for electing me DIC in charge for that month. We will likely meet after the aforesaid wonderful holiday, so we may have our Annual Valentine’s Day Gift Judging (best and worst). The rules are, as usual, the following:

1. You must attend

2. You must truthfully answer the DIC’s questions as to what you ACTUALLY did or did not do for your spouse or girlfriend;

3. the decison of the DIC will be final and non-appealable.

Finally, kudos to Steve, who showed up late at the Rack, knowing full well he would have to submit to the cardinal MVFS Rule: He who showeth up at The Rack will payeth the full tariff.

Respectfully submitted,

Vic

Tropic Thunder

Well, our Dictator of the Month, David, really pulled it off for August, a difficult month because of the prevalence of those pesky, family-oriented films. And wouldn’t you know it, our Dictator, being ensconced himself in the entertainment business, chose a film about the entertainment business!

Of course, there was the mandatory, and enjoyable, pre-showing repast at The Rack, and this time we were “serviced” by “Alex”, who, in response to some inquiries from the Dictator, and next month’s Dictator, Steve, intimated that other options were available “behind the red curtain,” and that she had a complete set of the necessary equipment to pull it off (or whatever we imagined she might do, in our febrile imaginations). Personally, I thought that Steve went out on a limb with some particularly salacious comments, and I was at that point contemplating the evaporation of my well-earned future federal pension, as I would instead be sitting in the sheriff’s lockup, looking to turn state’s witness against other MVFS members. And, before I forget, a hearty welcome to Daniel, son of MVFS member Bill. Daniel has expressed an interest in starting the first University Division of MVFS. Go Daniel!

OK, on to the film. This thing had to be conceived by someone on a 60′s style drug trip. How can one possibly explain the plot? But why bother, when one is treated to off-the-wall  vulgarity, raunchiness, and way over the top bad taste and political incorrectness? The bit on Hollywood exploiting the mentally challenged was totally zany and right on. This film was meant to provoke outcries from groups spanning the spectrum from African Americans to the mentally disabled to gays. And the parody of the big budget war movies was hysterical, down to Nick Nolte playing a zombied out Nick Nolte.

So, films like this are why MVFS exists!

A worthy offering, and we look forward, submissively, to Steve’s choice for September.

Respectfully submitted,

Vic

Wanted

I knew something was not quite right when I walked into that favorite MVFS haunt, “The Rack.” I asked the waitress where I could find my mens group, and she responded, “There’s no mens group here.”  But, there you all were, right at the back of the restaurant. As I approached, I understood her meaning. Not a beer glass on the table. Four individual glasses of red wine. No half price appetizers to be seen, and, worst of all, two MVFS members caught in flagrante delicto talking to their spouses on their cellphones! I now knew how Captain Queeg felt when the crew turned on him.

Well, most members left early to catch a good seat. I stayed behind with Kevin, talking about annuities, pensions, and tantric sex. I thought we had something in common when we discussed “three times a night”, but Kevin, being of the age of 43, meant something other than the need to piss.

So, on to the movie. Now, as David (being in “the business”) knows better than we do, movies are made for a target audience. In the case of “Wanted,” that audience consists of 2 discrete groups: 12 year old boys, and MVFS members. OK, the movie starts by introducing us to Wesley Gibson, who hates his life. Not surprising, since he spends his days in a cubicle being harassed by his ugly, horridly overweight female boss, while his personal life consists of being cuckolded by his roommate, who is banging his mousy blond girlfriend. But, that is soon to change. While buying his daily supply of anti-anxiety pills in the drugstore, he finds himself standing next to, yes, Angela Jolie, who is armed with all sorts of automatic weapons. (somehow, although she does not appear to be carrying a bag of any sort, she has entered the store in a totally inconspicuous fashion). Of course, Gibson, (played by James McAvoy, who for the most part does a reasonable job of suppressing his Scottish accent), is being hunted in the pharmacy by an assasin, ”Cross.” Gibson makes a choice no other male on the planet would make: he tries to get away from Angela Jolie. But soon, he finds himself steering her red Italian sportscar while she is lying in a supine position across the hood, firing madly at the killer who is chasing them.

Gibson wakes up in a ratty building, which looks much like the old Goodyear tire plant in East L.A., now reborn as an outlet center. After finding that he is capable of shooting the wings off flies, he spends the next few days being savagely beaten by the building’s inhabitants who, we learn, are the descendants of an ancient order of weavers turned assasins, called “The Fraternity.” I was somewhat disappointed in this rather pedestrian name, and frankly, I think it is in violation of various copyrights. But, in any event, the historic role of The Fraternity is to “make the world right,” which is a task best accomplished by carrying out frequent acts of assasination. A good lesson in life for the other target group of this movie; e.g., the 12 year old boys. But, one more word on these savage beatings. Despite having his nose and legs broken by Fraternity members, Gibson discovers another feature of the Fraternity’s headquarters: a spa, with individual hot tubs, surrounded by enough candles to last the Catholic church a full week. Not only that, but the weavers have apparently discovered some sort of white, waxy substance, which, if poured into one of these individual hot tubs, will perform miraculous cures. One wonders why the weavers chose not to patent this process and utilize it in their quest to “make the world right.” But, enough of those trifles. And, of course, the spa is the reason for the film’s true highlight: a shot of Angela Jolie leaving her hot tub after her own therapeutic session, treating us to a brief glimpse of what only Billy Bob Thornton and Brad Pitt have experienced in the flesh.

Soon, Gibson is learning to bend bullets. He does this in another division of the Fraternity headquarters: the slaughterhouse. Here, numerous animal (pig?) carcasses are hanging, tended by a vicous butcher who never seems to spend any time making spareribs.

Well, on to “the plot.” Here, one is gently reminded of Hamlet, for Gibson’s quest is to avenge his father’s death. But, in another allusion to great works (here, Star Wars) , the question for Gibson, as it was for Luke Skywalker is: who is my father? Well, I don’t want to ruin the plot for any who may not have seen the film but are reading this. Suffice it to say that this discovery is only accomplished after an entire train full of innocent Italians crashes about 4000 feet into a gorge, killing everyone but: Angela Jolie, Gibson, and the true father.

Finally, and again without ruining the plot, which is worthy of Agamemnon, it turns out that the deus ex machina is: “The Loom of Fate.” Which made me think: what if, 1000 years ago, it was not weavers, but say, shit carriers, who formed a fraternity of assasins? Would the evil brain now directing the killings be not a loom, but a “Toilet of Fate?”

A thoroughy enjoyable evening. We shall look forward to next month’s treat, selected by someone who really understands what it takes to be a Dictator: David.

Respectfully,

Vic

Rambo

Dear fellow MVFS regulars,

Well, our third meeting last night was a big hit. Starting at The Rack, where we are now viewed as regulars, we had a terrific waitress with three hair colors (one being purple) who called us “darlin,” and took great care of us. Many platters of appetizers, beers, a few girlie drinks (yes, Howard, your Arnold Palmer), and we were off and running. Members shared their Valentines Day plans. First place in the Unmarried Division goes to Howard, whose plans include bubble bath, massage, etc. Unfortunately, Howard does not have a girlfriend to share these activities with. Just kidding! First Place in the Married Division goes to Rob, who plans a dinner at a “fancy” restaurant (e.g., not The Rack) and will present his wife with a diamond something or other. Last Place goes to Essi, whose plans include allowing his wife to cook dinner at home for Essi and another couple. Essi attempted to redeem himself by saying, “I’ll help if she asks .”

Now to the movie. What can be bad about a film where five or six people get killed before the credits even roll?!! The basic story is about Rambo, now about 65 years old, on Social Security, and living in Thailand, who is implored to help out a do-gooder church group, and ends up with a bunch of mercenaries (with the requisite tough talking Brit) having to rescue them. My favorite character was the nameless, evil Burmese army commander. His role required two things: (1) for him to sit impassively in his army truck as his soldiers committed classic acts of rape and pillage against villagers in a convenient, nearby village; and (2) screaming hysterically in a high pitched voice to get his soldiers to go after Rambo. Also notable was a pair of hideous, oversized aviator glasses that he wore throughout the movie. Just in case anyone felt a little sorry for this guy (after all, he was just a soldier carrying out his duty, etc) Stallone inserted a scene where a boy villager, imprisoned in the fun-loving army camp, is brought to the nameless, evil commander for recreational purposes. Finally, we could really hate him! Of course, it was clear that he would die in the end at Rambo’s hands, after every single soldier was killed by Rambo and the mercenaries. For good measure, Stallone even had one of the wussy pacifist church guys kill a soldier by beating him to death with a rock.

Also featured was Rambo’s boat, a design shamelessly stolen from The African Queen, even down to its quaint puttering sound.

Those of us who attempted to keep a death count were doomed to failure. On the way home, Fred and I calculated that the movie featured 45-60 minutes of unrelenting, continuous carnage.

Until next month, We look forward to hearing from the March Dictator, Howard.

Regards,

Vic

First meeting…

Gentlemen,

I think all would agree that our debut meeting was a smashing success. Special thanks to David for contributing two tickets, and to Zoltan for coming up from Torrance just in time to share in the food bill!

We have agreed that the second Tuesday of each month will be our meeting date, and we will rotate the Film Chooser of the Month.

We also agreed that notification of the Film of the Month should be at the earliest possible time. This will avoid situations such as the following: your wife/significant other, etc. “suggests” on a Saturday afternoon that you both go to Macy’s to “look at a new duvet cover and comforter.” You cringe, knowing that this will entail walking past the rows of ladies in white coats standing near bar stools offering to apply some goop to your wife/S.O’s face, while you stand there with absolutely nothing to do. Then, you take the escalator upstairs, and find a quiet place where you can hide, let your eyes glaze over, and nod your head to any question asked by your wife/S.O., which will usually be “do you like this?,” when of course your real purpose for being there is to carry back to the car some enormous plastic bag filled with bedding stuff. So, going back to your wife/S.O’s earlier suggestion that you accompany her to Macy’s, you quickly invent a need to run an errand at Ace Hardware, which you do, and then head for the movie theater to see a violent film, so that even if your wife/S.O. finds out you bagged the Macy’s trip for a film, she will not be overly pissed because it is a film she has no interest in seeing. BUT, what you may have done is seen a film soon to be chosen by the Film Chooser of the Month. Thus, the suggested guideline for early picking of the film, to avoid such situations.

Although we are leaderless and have no rules, it appears that some suggested guidelines emerged yesterday, by consensus. For example, no ordering a glass of white wine with the food, although ordering an entire bottle of white wine would be OK.

Now, gentlemen, it will be tempting to invite a woman to our meetings. For example, my dental hygienist, who drives a Harley 883 Sportster, has seen “The 300″ several times, and frequents The Rock Store on weekends. Avoid the temptation!!

If anyone does see a worthy film, please feel free to advise members through this blog.

Last night’s film will be destined to become a MVFS classic. Brilliant acting all around, killing off two of the “name actor” leads with no hesitation, a complex story (who got the money?), great cinematography. Now, when your wif/S.O. drags you to see Love in the Time of Cholera, with Javier Bardem, only you, because of your MVFS membership, will know the true versatility of Javier Bardem as an actor.

Kudos to anyone who can get Adam Carolla or Jimmy Kimmel to one of our meetings.

OK, until the next meeting!

Vic