Here are the times when old footage of Curly and Shemp (and their stand-ins) was used in later Joe Besser remakes. They're in order of the Joe shorts. Can you think of any I missed? The ones used are: Oily To Bed, Oily To Rise (1939) Oil's Well That Ends Well (1958) He Cooked His Goose (1952) Triple Crossed (1959) What's The Matador? (1942) Sappy Bullfighters (1959) Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Three Stooges' remakes often used the same footage for their endings...
...but sometimes unrelated non-remakes did too.
And in at least one case the ending was identical!
Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Here's a rousing scene from a movie we reviewed back in 2010, which parodies those big dance numbers from Hollywood musicals aimed at "hip" young audiences. You can read our original review HERE.
Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
This scene from the 2008 comedy "Coopers' Christmas" teaches a valuable lesson: if you're Poppy, you should never let your guard down around Dougie.
(Caution: something violent happens)
Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Originally posted on 5/31/15
I originally watched these cartoons during my college days, many years ago, on a tiny portable TV. Thus, I never realized that they're actually fairly nice-looking, colorful cartoons with some lovely backgrounds. My only reaction at that time to the Gene Deitch "Tom & Jerry"s was abject horror at how awful they seemed compared to the earlier Hanna-Barbera ones, which were actually known to win Oscars from time to time.
The only way any of the thirteen cartoons in Warner Home Entertainment's TOM AND JERRY: THE GENE DEITCH COLLECTION would get an Oscar would be if producer William L. Snyder taunted members of the Academy enough to have one thrown at him. With Hanna-Barbera's departure from MGM, the studio turned to Snyder and Chicago-born animator-director Gene Deitch (a former Terrytoons producer and father of famed underground comix artist Kim Deitch) to keep the cat-and-mouse game afoot.
From Snyder’s Prague-based animation studio, Rembrandt Films, they churned out 13 new shorts from 1960-62 (after viewing some of the celebrated originals for the first time and disliking them) and created a run of "Tom & Jerry"s which stand as some of the oddest, least accessible, and, some might say, most bizarre mainstream cartoons ever made.
(I wrote this short story way back in 2008. While entirely fictional, I like to think that it could have happened, or perhaps even should have happened.)
Back when I was Christopher Walken's personal chef, I never knew
what random horrors each day would bring. I remember one day in
particular, in which Mr. Walken sat in his darkened study, lost in one of
his strange, pensive moods. He summoned me just as the grandfather clock
in the drafty hallway struck noon.
I stood there, awaiting his orders, for quite a long time. He sat in a
large leather-bound chair, hands pressed together under his chin, as
though pondering his options with grave consideration. Finally, in his
familiar low, halting voice, he spoke.
"I would like...the Buggles," he said. "For lunch."
"The Buggles?" I repeated, not sure I'd understood. "You mean, the 80s 'new wave' musical duo?"
"Yes, exactly," he said, relieved that I was familiar with them. A
slight smile played upon his lips as he nodded, relishing some mental
image that I daren't even imagine.
I wasn't sure what to say. Where the hell had this idea come from? "The
Buggles broke up a long time ago," I informed him. "They're, uh, not a
duo anymore."
"Then..." he said thoughtfully, "you could get...the ingredients for the Buggles...and make some new ones."
I thought about this seemingly nonsensical request for a moment, when
suddenly the horrifying truth dawned on me. By "ingredients", he meant
that he wanted me to kidnap Trevor Horn and Geoffrey Downes, the
original members of the Buggles, and cook them for lunch. His lunch.
"I can't do that," I said firmly. "I...I won't do that. They're human
beings, not just 'ingredients' for some ghastly lunch for you." I
cringed, waiting for him to explode in a fit of anger, or at least send
me packing.
"Oh," he said softly, as though my words had actually made some kind of
sense to him. "Okay. Well, then...I'm not sure what other...lunch
options...are available to me. Let's go into the kitchen and...explore
them. Shall we?" He rose from his chair and waited for me to lead him
into the kitchen, since he had no idea where it was. So I did.
When we got there, he gazed around in silent wonder at all the utensils
and appliances. Finally, he spoke. "Where do you keep...the people?" he
asked, gesturing with his hands.
"The people? What people?" I inquired, baffled.
"The people that you cook," he explained. "Where...do you store them
before preparing them...for my meals?" He asked this as though it were
the most normal thing in the world.
Forcing back a retching wave of hot bile, I contained my revulsion long
enough to respond. "I don't cook people!" I exclaimed. "I cook food!
FOOD! Nobody cooks PEOPLE! That's HORRIBLE!"
He looked at me with a sort of serene puzzlement for a moment, then
shrugged. He noticed something on the counter. "What is that?"
"That," I said, grateful for the change of subject, "is a sandwich that I made for my own lunch."
"Ah," he said, amazed. "A...sandwich. Could you make one of those...for me?"
"Sure," I said, relieved. "What kind of sandwich would you like?
"Are there...different kinds?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "You can put whatever you want in a sandwich. Any
kind of meat, in addition to things like tomatoes, lettuce, cheese,
pickles--"
"Make me," he said with growing excitement, "a Buggles sandwich."
I slapped my forehead. "No...no, you don't understand," I said, exasperated. "You can't--"
"With some of that pickles and...er, cheese things that you indicated,"
he added. "And I...I really am hungry today, so...make me two of these
Buggles sandwiches. Each of them containing half...of each separate
Buggle. With cheese." He took a deep breath and stood back with his
mouth open, eagerly waiting for me to confirm my understanding of his
instructions.
"Look, Mr. Walken," I said, finally tiring of this charade and spelling
it out for him, slowly and plainly. "I cannot and WILL not cook people
for you to eat for lunch, or for any other meal. You're asking me to
commit MURDER, for heaven's sake...so that YOU can indulge in
cannibalism, one of the most utterly HEINOUS acts a person can commit.
Why, the very notion of this fills me with an inutterable HORROR which I
can scant express with mere words!" I leaned wearily against the
counter, drained by my emotional turmoil.
He thought about this for a long time, then held up his index finger and
began to speak. "Are you...trying to tell me..." he said slowly, a look
of concern on his face, "that we...are out of cheese?"
"NO!" I screamed. "WE'RE OUT OF BUGGLES! YOU'LL HAVE TO EAT SOMETHING ELSE!"
"Ah," he nodded, appearing to understand me at last. I waited anxiously,
fearfully, for his next words. He extended his arm so that his sleeve
would retract and reveal his wristwatch. He looked at it, furrowing his
brow. "It's five minutes after twelve," he announced. "Is my lunch ready
yet?"
"No," I said. "You told me you wanted the Buggles for lunch, and I told
you I could not and would not kidnap and cook them for you. Therefore,
you have yet to present me with a viable alternative meal to prepare for
you."
"I understand," he affirmed. "Well, then," he said breezily, "I'll just
invite some friends over for lunch, and you can cook some of them." He
pulled an address book out of his pocket, went over to the phone, and
began calling people while I simply stared at him in disbelief. Thirty
minutes later, the livingroom was filled with guests milling around
drinking cocktails.
"There's Meryl Streep," he said to me in a low voice, pointing. "I'd
like some spaghetti and Streep balls as an appetizer. And over there,"
he added, indicating a gentleman standing next to the Picasso, "is
Dennis Hopper. As an entree, I'd like some thick, juicy Dennis Hopper
steaks. Ribeyes, of course."
"Of course," I said wearily.
"And to snack on...umm, who's left...oh, just do something fun with
Steven Spielberg. Maybe a sort of festive meatloaf. Or some jerky. But
you'd better hurry, because he never stays long."
"So...I just slaughter them now?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, just slaughter them now," he urged. "I'm famished."
Steeling myself, I clutched the meat cleaver and began to inch forward.
Suddenly a wave of hysteria swept through me and I screamed at the top
of my lungs: "NO! NO! I WON'T DO IT! I WON'T SLAUGHTER AND COOK
HOLLYWOOD'S ELITE FOR YOUR LUNCH!"
With that, I flung the meat cleaver aside and ran shrieking from the
room. On my way out, I could hear Mr. Walken explain to his guests,
"Well, you just can't get good help these days."
Later, he found me hiding in the kitchen, trembling. He noticed my
sandwich sitting uneaten on the counter. "Are you...going to eat that?"
he asked.
"No, you can have it," I said in a quavering voice. "I couldn't bear to eat anything right now."
He picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite. "Mmm, this is very good," he appraised. "Who is it?"
It was Underwood Chicken Spread, but I lied. "It's Tom Cruise. I got a good deal on the cast of TOP GUN at the meat market."
And so, for the next several weeks, I gave Christopher Walken chicken
spread sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and told him that we
were working our way through the entire cast of TOP GUN. When that was
over, I switched to deviled ham and told him we were starting in on PULP
FICTION. This eventually presented a problem, since I'd forgotten that
he was in it. So one day, two weeks into PULP FICTION, he asked, "When
do I get to eat me for lunch?" Thinking fast, I opened up a can of Spam
and pointed at it. "This is you," I said. "Oh...I look good," he
drooled.
Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Originally posted on 6/8/19
I've always loved the American-International "Beach Party" series, and I always will. This gives you a good idea of the overall tenor of my assessment of HOW TO STUFF A WILD BIKINI (Olive Films, 1965). As for WHY I love these movies so much, well...err...uhh...
To be honest, a lot of people will hate this movie and others like it, and, as far as they're concerned, rightfully so. It's a supremely silly slapstick sex farce with the lowest teen denominator in mind, and it was made to shower undiscerning audiences with brightly-colored pop culture confetti made up of whatever seemed like it might appeal to them, including girls in bikinis, bikes, surfing, jangly rock 'n' roll, cartoonish action, really corny jokes, and cameo appearances by faces familiar to both the younger and older generations.
All of which is why I find these movies to be such irresistible fun--because that's all they try to be, and in their own stupefying way, they succeed. It helps if you're a fan of Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello (I am), two of the most appealing young stars of the 60s, and enjoy occasionally turning off your mind, relaxing, and floating downstream. It is not dying, even though some might feel that way about it.
If you've seen FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH (1982)...
...chances are you remember "that" scene with Phoebe Cates and Judge Reinhold.
And if you've seen any of the VACATION movies (CHRISTMAS VACATION in
particular) you're also probably familiar with Randy Quaid as Clark
Griswold's cousin "Eddie."
So, we thought: why not combine the two?
Well...it seemed like a good idea at the time.
(caution: adult content)
I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
To all the readers who have been kind enough to follow us over the years...
...here's our very special SEXY Christmas surprise just for you!
Enjoy! And Merry Christmas!
Music by The Dukes of Dixieland and Carmen Dragon
I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Nothing beats watching poor Moe try to decorate the tree...the Stooge way!
His long-suffering wife (Mary Ainslee) can only observe in horror.
And when the Three Stooges celebrate the Christmas season...
...it's Season's Beatings for the three knuckleheads!
HE COOKED HIS GOOSE (1952)
MALICE IN THE PALACE (1949)
BLUNDER BOYS (1955)
TRIPLE CROSSED (1959)
I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
(Originally posted on 12/12/19)
Originally posted on 7/26/20
Remember how all the action movies after DIE HARD were described as "DIE HARD in an airplane" or "DIE HARD on a cruise ship", etc.? Well, KILLER RACCOONS 2: DARK CHRISTMAS IN THE DARK (Indican Pictures, 2020) is like "AIRPLANE! on a train", or maybe "UNDER SIEGE 2 by way of AIRPLANE! but on another train", or anything with both AIRPLANE! and trains in it.
Of course, everyone knows AIRPLANE! is that hilarious deadpan comedy that spoofed the dead-serious "Airport" disaster movies. And in case you've forgotten, UNDER SIEGE 2 was that Steven Seagal movie about terrorists aboard a moving train.
Anyway, this movie is all of that with the addition of at least one key element: killer raccoons.