Another Buggish Swap, This Time With 2x More Jan Brady

"Dying is easy. Comedy is hard."--Someone

"Writing about bad movies is easy. Writing about comedies is hard."--Me

The only people that challenge us more than our enemies are generally our dearest friends, and that's probably why the one and only T.L. Bugg used this month's movie swap to assign me Poolboy: Drowning Out the Fury. It's not that it's not my KIND of film--a meta movie-within-a-movie lampooning made-for-cheap '80s action romps? Sign me up!--but more the fact that I find reviewing comedies to be incredibly difficult. Sure, if we're talking about unintentional comedies--Twilight, Cool As Ice, and the like--then the words seep through my MacBook like a blue liquid in the offbrand maxipad on a commercial for Kotex. But straight-out humor is hard to discuss. Over at The Lightning Bug's Lair, I've repaid my debt by sending the Bugg to Instant Watch for the 1993 ...And God Spoke, an underrated mockumentary with juicy cameos from Soupy Sales, Andy Dick, Lou Ferigno and more. To find out if he had as hard a time writing and as good a time watching, head on yonder.

But enough stalling. Let's get wet.

Quick Plot: Poolboy: Drowning Out the Fury is essentially presented as the special edition watching experience of Poolboy 2. Are you confused yet?

Our director, writer, producer, dubber, and occasional actor Saint James St. James (ACTUAL writer Ross Patterson,  a game performer with an eerie vocal resemblance to Will Arnett's GOB Bluth) serves as our narrator of sorts, announcing we’re about to watch the long out-of-print film he made as an entitled one-eyed 10-year-old in 1990. Throughout the main narrative of Poolboy 2, St. James interrupts to give us some behind-the-scenes tidbits, such as why one character in a group shot was shot on green screen (because he was in prison), why flubs weren’t edited out (because a non-actor pulling a gun on your crew sells tickets), and why there’s not much nudity (St. James didn’t understand that “more nudity” didn’t mean “more penises” to the studio).

As you can probably guess, Poolboy: Drowning Out the Fury is not a traditional film. It’s a fictional making-of detailing a fictional Rambo knockoff about a Vietnam vet (Kevin Sorbo as John Van Hammer playing Sal Bando—got that?) who promised his fallen soldier friend that they would open a pool cleaning business together, only to return to California to discover all such companies are now owned by—gasp!—Mexicans. In a sort of reversal of Machete, Bando becomes a crusader for white American rights, eliminating anyone who steps in his way with EXTREME prejudice.

Sure, the Mexicans in town aren’t innocent, having murdered his cheating wife and sorta son (or at least, drowned dummies that vaguely resembled them). Under the control of—whaddya know! --Machete and more importantly, 7 Mummies’ Danny Trejo, Bando’s town becomes a hotbead of violence as he skims some pools, goes to parties hosted by Children of the Corn’s grown-up Malachai, and has sex with inflatable dolls/neighborhood blonds. One of whom is played by…

JAN BRADY CONNECTION!!!

I’m not embarrassed to say I saw 1995’s The Brady Bunch Movie three times in the theaters. I found and still find it to be insanely enjoyable, as is its slightly lesser followup, A Very Brady Sequel. One of its secret weapons was Jennifer Elise Cox’s charmingly mad performance as Jan and thusly did it bring a Marcia Marcia Marcia bright smile to my face to see Ms. Cox show up as one of Bando’s most loyal clients.

But guess what? It gets better!

You see, the gods of movie recommendations looked upon we two bloggers, one from the northern Bronx hood and the other strumming a banjo made from dead pool cleaners' skin on his South Carolinian porch (that's how I imagine he spends weekends not spent at HorrorHound) and bestowed upon us a gift: TWO JAN BRADYS! As Cox costars in Poolboy, so does the original Jan Eve Plumb playing Noah’s wife (actually, playing Eve Plumb PLAYING Noah’s wife) in …And God Spoke.

So that's exciting. At least if you're me.

But back to Poolboy! Or the making of Poolboy 2! I'm still confused!

Poolboy: Drowning Out the Fury (the real one on Instant Watch) is a fun, deliberately goofy homage of sorts to the kinds of filmed-in-the-Philippines action romps you now find rusting in the gray market. If you don't have much love for that sub sub sub genre, I don't imagine you'll find Poolboy overly amusing, although much of its randomness might work for the kinds of comedy fans who dug Wet Hot American Summer before it was cool to do so (or maybe I just like to use that comparison because I'm one of the few truly cool people who did and I like to brag about it).

I found Poolboy an odd viewing experience because initially, it seemed positively genius. As the film went on, the hit vs. miss percentage of the jokes became a little more evenhanded. For a lot of them, the idea of the joke was amusing--terribly dubbed actors, for example--though the final execution felt a tad off. I won't say it was director Garrett Brawith's fault necessarily, especially since he demonstrates a wonderful strength with getting his actors (be they Jason Mewes or Courtney Gains) to nail the tone to near perfection. Maybe the new filmmaking team just need a little more time in honing style, but it's a minor criticism for something that proudly declares itself wacky and follows up on it in every scene.

High Points

One of the biggest faults of so many spoofs is that they cave in to tradition and try to force actual heart or development on their not-supposed-to-be-real characters. Poolboy thankfully avoids such a trap and instead, everybody and thing onscreen exists solely for our laughs. Sure, not all of them work, but I admire the filmmakers' spirits in going all out

Kevin Sorbo has a fairly thankless role here in playing a mediocre action star that deliberately lacks the charisma or talent of his more famous peers. When you think about how he downplays it, his performance here is actually incredibly generous, letting both Sal AND John come across exactly as they should

Low Points

As explained above—including my own inability to write well about comedy—there are simply some jokes that, well, don’t quite work

Lessons Learned

Nobody hates Menudo. Everybody in the world loves Menudo!

The present participle of ‘rap’ has two p’s

Answering the phone a thrust before orgasming will have serious effects on a man

Rent/Bury/Buy

Comedies are perhaps the hardest types of films to recommend or warn against because even if I KNOW you, it doesn't NECESSARILY mean I'll know what makes you laugh on any given day. Poolboy made me laugh, then made me not, then made me laugh again. I think some film audiences--particularly those with a soft spot for third world country '80s action cinema--will appreciate a lot of the jokes in Poolboy simply from a movie fan point of view, even when plenty of them don't really snap as sharply as we’d like. If nothing else, you can thoroughly ravage IMDB spotting all the cameos, with everyone from Richard "Al" Karn to Ahmed "JarJar" Best popping up in small roles. 

Want more meta comedy about the making of a low budget bad film? Head on over to The Lightning Bug’s Lair for T.L. Bugg’s thoughts on …And God Spoke. It's guaranteed to have equal parts Jan Brady!

Dolly's Gone Haywire!

Dolly Parton is easily my favorite living celebrity, an entertainer with enough cheerful spirit and musical talent to make Tennessee a worthy vacation destination (I’m heading there for the third time this spring). Hence, when the South’s favorite blond was line dancing back to the big screen, it seemed a natural recommend for my other favorite below Mason Dixoner, T.L. Bugg.

That’s right homefries: The Lightning Bug’s Lair is brimming with Joyful Noise, so hitch up yer horse and gallop on over for Zack’s what-I-imagine-must-be-rave-review. On my end, the Bugg sent me out on a covert mission to see Steven Soderbergh’s Haywire. There’s less gospel singing and more ass kicking, but balance is important in this day and age. Just ask Dolly’s bras.

Quick Plot: Mallory Kane (MMA star Gina Carano) sits down for a cup of tea in an upstate diner when the boring guy from the only bad Step Up movie comes in to talk and fight. REALLY fight.

Winning round 1, Mallory enlists the aide of a curious customer with wheels and speeds away on the snowy road, telling her story to him and more importantly, us.

See, Mallory has one of those jobs that we only know about because of movies like Haywire. She’s a covert operative something something, an esteemed professional who negotiates and executes super duper dangerous plans around the world. Her last mission in Barcelona—to grab a journalist that had been taken hostage—went so well that she now gets a quickie job in Dublin via her boss and ex-lover (the young Obi Wan Kenobi) to pose as the wife of fellow operative/hot person Michael Fassbender. When a few details become suspect, Mallory finds herself back in combat and on the run.

Steven Soderbergh is easily one of modern cinema’s most interesting directors, both behind the camera and away from it. In terms of technique, he’s created some genuine marvels (Traffic, The Limey) and plenty of worthy experiments. As if flicking on a light switch, he can seemingly shoot out a commercially appealing mainstream vehicle without pandering to a less arty audience, only to turn around half a year later with a made-for-peanuts indie that butts any theater formula. Oh, and he’s currently working on a film based on Channing Tatum’s experiences as a male stripper.

Why aren’t more people as shocked/fascinated by this as I am?

Anyway, Haywire falls somewhere in between Soderbergh’s experiments and crowd pleasers. It’s an action film, to be sure, but one clearly crafted by someone with ambition and more importantly, creativity. We’ve seen badass hot chicks in hand-to-hand combat, but Soderbergh stages his battles in a way that lets you actually SEE them, pulling the camera back and stopping the music to let each punch and bang resonate. Thinking back to my annoyance with the well-received Crazies remake (which I disliked for its close quarters-with-no-context fight scenes) makes me appreciate the patience and trust someone like Soderbergh has in his work.

And yet American audiences seem to essentially hate Haywire, awarding it a cinemascore of a D+ and spending their cash instead on George Lucas’ Lando apology or Kate Beckinsale’s leather workout. Did moviegoers feel victim to a bait ‘n switch, expecting ‘splosions and shootouts only to be insulted with storyline and a smidgen of dialogue?

I don’t understand the odd venom for Haywire because you know what? I rather liked it. Gina Carano isn’t an Oscar ready actress, but you know what? She doesn’t have to be. She’s believable, likable, and most importantly, great to watch and that in itself keeps Haywire as a film to care about. The supporting cast is overflowing with Soderbergh vets (Michael Douglas!), personal faves (Bill Paxton!) and underrated stars playing against type (sleazy Antonio Banderas!). While the storyline occasionally feels a tad more complicated than it has to be, it tracks back easily enough once we reach the third act.

Maybe the ending wasn’t big enough for some audiences? I can imagine some viewers may have felt like each fight follows the same beats, meaning the ending (no spoilers) doesn’t satisfy in the more obvious Big Boss Battle route would have. It’s a fair criticism if that’s how you felt, but sit back to consider the fact that this is probably how these fights WOULD flow, and just because MacGregor knows how to use a lightsaber does not mean we should see some Jedi mind tricks in a stylized but reality-based action film. Plus, the final line of the film is kind of hilarious in a simple and wraparound way.

High Points

Ewan MacGregor. Bill Paxton. Antonio Banderas. AND Michael Fassbender?

Apparently Steven Soderbergh has the same taste in man as me.

One of my main irks with the action genre is the cold blooded ambivalence it generally has towards civilian bystanders, giving the audience minor laughs or thrills as random passerbys get caught up in gunfire or used as human shields (I still love you though, Total Recall).  While some unlucky folks do find themselves in the way, the character of Mallory actively tries to prevent them from being killed, whether it’s warning some proud state troopers, non-fatally putting down some Spanish officers, or guaranteeing the safety of her game driver

Low Points

Channing Tatum, I understand that you have physical appeal and a weird muse-like hold over your new bestie Steven Soderbergh but please, for the love of all your muscle tees, OPEN YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU SPEAK!

Lessons Learned

Never let an enemy order hot coffee when sitting across from your face

iPhones might have their charms, but nothing says superspy like a burner Blackberry

Don’t forget about the deer. NEVER forget about the deer

See/Skip/Sneak In

I thoroughly enjoyed seeing Haywire on the big screen, but my $11 could easily have been spent on the latest Paracinema Magazine and a few rolls of toilet paper (I ran out). It’s a good film and more importantly, a genuinely special action movie so if you have the time and means, use that cash to make a point about what kind of cinema you’d like to see studios make. Or go see Joyful Noise because Dollywood could always use a new rollercoaster. The choice is yours, but you know what’s not? The freedom to choose which website to visit next. That answer is right here.

Le Horde (That's French for 'The Horde')

We horror fans are in the mist of a worldwide condition known as Zombie Fatigue. Symptoms: excessive yawning and full-body lethargy when watching yet another saga of the flesh-eating undead. Unless a film uses zombiism to explore something deeper (a la Deadgirl) or simply nails a good old cannibal feast out of the park, what’s the point?

France’s The Horde doesn’t revolutionize that oh-so-potent subgenre of horror, but it sure does give you 90 minutes of pretty exciting zombie action. Is that enough?

Quick Plot: A group of police officers decide to take their own vengeance on a pair of Nigerian gangsters hiding out in the projects. Storming the castle fails miserably, resulting in a few deaths and, more importantly, the discovery that the dead are waking up with speedy legs and carnivorous appetites.

It’s zombies! It’s a siege! It’s a combination of what’s worked in a bunch of other horror films stuffed inside this one, and you know what? I dug it. 

The bad guys are interesting, with their own untold history that makes all their brotherly interactions fairly loaded. Though she’s not particularly likable, the female lead packs some excellent moxie as a woman with one mission and plenty of punches. The third act addition of a high energy, zombie slaying, racial epithet spewing tenant offers an enjoyable light touch (especially when he keeps referring to the greasy ponytailed bad guy as a carny, just cause), and most importantly, each character’s demise (those who have one; no spoilers here) is given its proper due by either being brutal, heroic, surprising, or sad.

I realize that’s an incredibly fast and not very informative recap, but there’s not too much point in digging any deeper. The Horde is exciting for its running time, and then it’s over. It’s far better made than the majority of modern zombie cinema, and for a violent, funny, and sometimes scary 90 minutes, it’s more than suitable. And then it’s over.

High Points

The introduction of the first zombie, his face masked in a black plastic bag, is, what the French call, ‘le badass’

Similarly, most of the human-hand-to-zombie-hand combat scenes are genuinely exciting. No one goes down easy, and watching it unroll is worth a handful of popcorn each time

Low Points

The movie is a perfectly suitable mashup of zombies and siege. That it does little of anything original is mildly disappointing if your expectations are in that realm

Lessons Learned

Surprising to me, the French do indeed use the verb ‘French’ to mean what we Americans think of it as. Or at least, that’s what the subtitles said

If you use your rifle to secure every door you close behind you, you will eventually run out of rifles

The French have very hard heads. How else to explain the multiple cranium butts that never seem to phase our fierce zombie fighters?

Carnies ain’t so down and hip with the concept of having their leg amputated

Rent/Bury/Buy

Now streaming on Netflix, The Horde is an enjoyable watch when you’re looking for good horror action. There’s no boundary pushing and in time, it will probably blend together with a lot of movies with similar styles, but that doesn’t necessarily take anything away from it. It’s a perfectly fine action horror film that won’t bring about world peace, but will keep you on edge.

Take Me Out to the Blood Games

You must understand something before reading my thoughts on 1990’s girl-powered revenge film centered on a female baseball team: I love A League of Their Own. It’s watched every year without fail and quoted just about any time the subject of crying, swing dancing, Jon Lovitz, charm school, or penis in hats comes up. Had Labyrinth not started with the letter L, it easily would have made my cinematic alphabet. Part of this comes from the fact that it's an absolutely wonderful movie, a rare successful studio comedy containing an entire team's worth of worthy performances and sharp writing. The other part is that I love baseball.

Hence, when Netflix told me that queuing up the forgettable Steve Austin actionfest Hunt to Kill implied I Might Also Like 1990's Blood Games, I took the following description:

A team of sexy female baseball players whips the local rednecks -- and things turn violent when the men refuse to pay up for losing in this campy thriller. While team manager Midnight (Ross Hagen) tries to collect the cash, the locals attack some of the babes. Soon it's an all-out war, with the hometown hicks hunting down the women, who start fighting back after a few of their teammates wind up dead.

and imagined--quite correctly--that I had finally found the movie to complete my grand slam of baseball cinema (for the record, the other two runners are Field of Dreams and Major League).

Quick Plot: Meet the Ball Girls, a sassy team of female baseball players who cruise through small towns to challenge the locals to friendly games while Coach Midnight earns some dough betting on their victory. The money, sadly, does not go towards uniform expenses as the girls play in roomy cotton hotpants, presumably to distract their male opponents or because they're all masochists who love nothing more than a good sliding bruise.

After a whopping 17-2 win over a team of crass and grope-happy hillbillies, Midnight is stiffed by the Sam Elliot-like opposing coach but the badass Ball Girl boss takes matters into his own hands in the men’s room of a Double Deuce-like roadhouse. Too bad a few infielders get nearly raped in the process, leading to a chaotic brawl that somehow ends up with Not Sam Elliot’s son car-crushed and Midnight stabbed in the belly.

What’s a frazzled coach-less team to do? Certainly not drive their bus to a hospital or call the police. It’s far better to flee the scene of the crime with a dying man until a few intense car chases lead to a breakdown and backwoods Rambo-esque escape. See, that passing line about how Not Sam Elliot is a cheap mercenary actually has some merit: although he wouldn’t pony up a grand to pay Coach Midnight, he’s more than willing to drop $1000 for each pretty hair tie-less head his other goons can bring him after the death of his son. 

The battle rages.

At a certain point, half the girls vow to take vengeance while the pitcher and team captain Babe preaches that they must stay together. That actually means that the brunettes will continue on towards safety while the blonds are left on their own to serve up some seductive payback.

Oh, and get gang raped. Just because this is directed by a woman (maybe) doesn’t mean we’re going to skimp on the misogyny! It’s not just that there’s violence committed against women; it’s HOW it’s filmed. Take, for example, the early attempted rapes which find reason to cut to closeups of the almost-victim’s bare breasts. Sure, we’d just spent a good ten minutes ogling the same women as they lounged around the locker room, but the shots are deliberately sleazy in a meaner manner than is necessary for an exploitation film.

That doesn’t mean that Blood Games isn’t the greatest thing of all time. This is primarily evident in the final scene, where

SPOILER ALERT

The last redneck standing has Babe’s little sister (and team catcher) in a sleeper hold. Using her pitch calling skills, Kit--I mean Dottie--I mean, Little Sister In Blood Games gives Babe a sign for a fast ball up and inside...of the redneck’s FACE.

Eff. Yeah.

High Points

An early bathroom brawl scene has Not Sam Elliot fist-fighting with his pants around his ankles. For whatever reason, this made me happy

Low Points

There’s a reason All the Way May and Doris didn’t want to wear those skorts when playing ball: because no self-respecting ballplayer would EVER slide with that much exposed skin. I know, I know: the audience of Blood Games has higher priorities than sporting accuracy, but still. Have a little respect and if nothing else, LET THEM TIE THEIR ENORMOUS HAIR BACK

Lessons Learned

Maybe your team wouldn’t be losing 17-2 against an all-female squad if every player didn’t swig a beer before stepping up to the plate

If a team is named “Ball Girls,” you should have no reason whatsoever to think that they might have some skills at throwing balls at your own

After being stabbed in the gut, the best course of action is to drink water and dab the wound with a fluffy towel

The Winning Insults:

Redneck 1: You drink beer the way you piss.

Redneck 2: You piss the way you drink beer.

I’m not sure who got the better zap!, but I’m totally cool with using both.

Missed Marketing Opportunity

The final scene of Blood Games features a slow motioned montage highlighting all the women that died in the last 90 minutes. TELL ME someone didn’t take these screenshots and turn them into tradeable baseball cards?

Rent/Bury/Buy

Now streaming on Instant Watch, Blood Games is fairly wonderful dose of late ‘80s sleaze that offers something for everyone: bare breasts of tough chicks for the gents and girl powered vengeance for the ladies. Yes, it’s a dreadfully sexist movie that might prove offensive to some viewers, but those who love the stench of Cheese Wiz will find it to be a homerun. 

Ouch! Those Paintball Thingies Really Kill

To call me a paintball enthusiast would be false. I’m a paintball dreamer.

It just looks SO fun. Play dress up and act tough while inflicting minor pain on pals or coworkers? Sign me up for the preferred members program!

In truth, I’ve played paintball once and while I did end up rainbow-colored and bruised, I also emerged with the sneaking suspicion that I missed my life’s calling as a competitive non-lethal sniper.

Oh, but this post isn’t about me and my addiction to competition (the nickname ‘Scattegories Nazi’ has a most definite source). Nope. Today’s feature is a simply named Instant Watch action thriller titled--you guessed it--Paintball.

Load your pellets.

Quick Plot: Somewhere in Cyrillic Europe, an expensive paintball program is drawing in the bored and wealthy international populace. An assorted team awakens with green armbands over their camouflage jumpsuits, each given a job like recon or scout. They’re eager and (mostly) athletic, but it doesn’t take ten minutes for real bullets to start heading their way. Turns out, someone with night vision is on the hunt and our inexperienced Green Team members start dropping like the flies I swat daily now that it’s almost summer in the Bronx.

On one level, Paintball is pretty much exactly what you’re expecting from a movie called ‘Paintball’ streaming on Netflix. The characters are fairly disposable and hard to decipher under splattered helmets. The body count dwindles in the order you more or less expect. Bad guys get jerky and good girls summon strength.

That being said, Paintball is way better than it had to be. Though we don’t really know our characters, we believe and like them well enough to not yawn at their plight. The camerawork is clearly aiming to put you in that painty forest, pulling us in the shooters/victims’ shoes with surprisingly effective point of view shots.

I didn’t fall in love with Paintball, but I was more than pleasantly entertained by what actually came off as a good movie, one made with far more skill than its premise required. I’ll keep my eye on this Daniel Benmayor director chap. He knows what he’s doing.

High Points

I don’t want to spoil too much, but the execution of the kills is actually quite neat, giving us an alternative view that is somehow more disturbing in muting some of the graphics

Low Points

Though I didn’t necessarily have a problem with the last man/woman standing, I also never really felt much suspense leading up to his/her final run. You can sense immediately--for no reason other than genre convention--that THIS will be your final girl/boy, and because I’m me, I was disappointed by its unnecessary (and unjustified) obviousness.

Lessons Learned

Choosing to live or not to live just depends on you...and those orchestrating a lethal and secluded game of amateur paintball

Be careful where you point pointy things

Into every paintball team, an asshole must emerge

Rent/Bury/Buy

As a Netflix Instant Watch, I easily recommend Paintball for a day you want to pass with good action. Those sad souls without an American account should keep their eyes out for a cheap rental or bargain bin buy. It’s not the greatest thing since Gangland, but Paintball is plain and simple, a fun(ly) serious little bite of genre skill.