PulpLit.net

Cast Away

So I cut loose on the Biggerboat dinghy for a little 3 week R & R and look what happens ? chicks are playing golf. What chimp-ruled faux-Earth have I set foot on anyway?

?Damn you! Damn you all to hell!!!?

Well, as you can tell, my creative juices have recharged after the initial shock and awe of becoming a proud pappy has slightly subsided. The euphoria is still present but the soul-sucking sleeplessness that rendered me headliner in Night of The Living Ed has largely abated as Colin has learned the crucial lesson ?Sun Go Down, Pull those Eye Shades Down? (In the poetry slam circles of which I do not travel, it is considered a literal coup de tat to rhyme a word with the exact same word. Yup, I?m a regular Eminem Dickinson - albeit one without the pre-req ?bats-in-the-belfry? and general disdain for my complexion as evidenced by that nickname-sake. Great, now I?m starting to sound like that a$$-monkey Architect.)

Anyway, I haven?t much of theme here, just working out the kinks. I?ve found that since I?ve been gone some chump came along and assumed the mantle of Biggerboat?s Resident Movie Critic. Dude, if you?re gonna take the job, go full bore ? responsibility numero uno is to find a counterpoint to your Editor?s perspective and slam him with it repeatedly to stir debate. If he says he wants to go to Emerson, counter with Brown. If he is into He-Man, throw out She-Ra (have you seen that Prince Adam and the way He-Man caresses that sword? Same diff, really). If he bathes in his briefs, tell him you bathe in your boxers. It?s not good enough to dance his dance even if you truly do think the film should be re-titled The Matrix: Retarded. Your review was certainly decent ? much better than anything offered by that hack who said ?This Spiderman soars? but not quite as good as the scribe who wrote this about last summer?s over-hyped xXx.

?I just didn?t find much to get excited about in this enterprise, let alone hitch myself to the franchise. That is not to say the film didn?t have its enchantments. For one (PETA and Yoda take note), Diesel struts through several scenes clad in what appears to be a Wookie?s pelt. Later he doffs the Wookie, exposing chiseled flesh, allowing the viewer to take a voyeuristic tour of his tattooed torso. Finding solace in the memory of a better film, I began to scan the landscape looking for directions and roadmaps ? something along the lines of ?Your Agent is Not To Be Trusted? imprinted below the clavicle. Drifting back to the film at hand, I began to wish that I too, had that wonderful inability to construct new memories. Ahh, perchance to dream.?

Yeah, now there?s the guy that I want drafting my eulogy.

Regardless, there?s plenty of room for both of us, even if you are the Chris Noth to my Tom Hanks. In fact, I just received my latest marching orders from Sucka J.C. Let?s see: May 30th - Wrong Turn, June 6th ? Rugrats Meet the Wild Thornberrys, July 11th Sperminator III: Giving Machines a Rise? What the hell is going on here? Damn, life was so much simpler when El Jefe was distracted by those dental worries brought on by The Sweets of San Francisco.

I?ve also come to praise Mollie Hogan?s recent rage against the machines. While I enjoy sci-fi (and other genres) in whatever flavors they come in ? that is, as long as they taste good) I found it refreshing that she is immune from the fanboy fervor that pits one franchise against another ? dropping Jean Grey (X2) and Trinity (Matrix) in Thunderdome in the feverish hopes that Geek Nation will witness some slobber-nobber scissor fighting antics. I liked the Big Fat Geek Army a lot better when they stayed in on Friday nights downing Mountain Dew and noshing on Bugles while ?beating their +5 Mystical Bishop? ? an act they lovingly refer to as ?Draggin? the Dungeon.? Not that Miss Hogan has anything to do with that camp ? but I just found it cool that she goes to the movies for pure, unadulterated entertainment ? which at the end of the day - is nothing to be ashamed of.

Which brings me to Cannes. Those following the Cannes film festival may have heard that Lars von Triers caused a minor outcry with his 3 hour treatsie on the American condition, ?Dogville.? Some critics have praised the film - set in the 1930?s, about a town in the American West whose inhabitants embrace, then turn upon a runaway bride - as a glimpse into the dark heart that beats within ?Our Town?. From what I?ve read, the entire film is shot on a soundsage with sparse scenery and ancillary characters etched out of chalk. Sounds like a bunch of boring, pretentious nonsense. Bring on that clash of the titans, Freddy vs. Jason any day.

So there you have it. I am alive and kicking. More to come.