John Wick, or Keanu Reeves Kills Everyone or Tonight We’re Going to Movie Like It’s 1999, is the story of what happens when you kill an ex-assassin’s dog. Turns out, it’s just about exactly as wise as you might think it is.
John Wick has everything that’s been missing from the action movies I’ve been watching for about 15 years now. Lots of action, head shots, blood and brains splattering faces and walls, violence, revenge, deaths, dog killing, Daniel “Not JCVD” Bernhardt, Marilyn Manson on the soundtrack… for better or worse, John Wick is a return to the mid-late 90s, and I for one welcome it.
Gerry Parkes, Doc from Fraggle Rock, passed away this past week. I’ve got a huge soft spot for that character and that show. Parkes’ death was the catalyst that finally got me to sit down and watch a movie that’s been on and off my radar for, apparently, about 15 years.
The Boondock Saints follows the story of two very Irish Catholic brothers, Young Indiana Powder and Daryl Dixon, who decide after narrowly escaping some Russian mobsters–and a divine epiphany–that they should start killing really bad guys. Willem Dafoe plays an FBI agent who specializes in Organized Crime. Dafoe becomes more and more frustrated at his inability to catch the assassins who seem to simultaneously be ridiculously lucky bungling oafs, and criminal mastermind vigilantes.
The movie walks a line between a mediocre action film on a tight budget that tries to be over-the-top, and a surprisingly good dark comedy. I think it works much better when viewed as the latter than the former.
As of last Tuesday, the old man and I had been out to see one movie in the last year. It was that possession movie with Jeff Winger in it as a tough guy. We enjoyed it, but being forced to say that’s the best movie we’ve seen together in a year is pretty much a fucking travesty. Theatrically released horror movies are so few and far between now we hardly get out to see anything. When something does come along, Real Life™ comes along and kicks one of us in the balls.
So, when we saw previews for a movie with a possessed doll that looks creepy as fuck we honestly didn’t expect to be able to get out to it. However, the stars and planets aligned and Real Life™ chose to leave our balls alone for a week. Or so we thought.
It turns out that last week, Annabellewas our kick in the balls.
I am not the target audience for this book. I’m so fucking far from the target audience of this book, I should have never even picked it up. But I needed something to round out 10 books for $10 at Salvation Army, and this intrigued me.
I remember seeing the cover and thinking, “What the fuck is this shit?” Bright pink with cutouts around some emoticons and the title is “ttyl”? Ugh. Then I opened it to find bright blue Comic Sans staring me in the face. Comic Sans?
Again, “What the fuck is this shit?” The section I opened to seemed to be a book laid out to look like a Messenger chat-log. I flipped through the pages. Once more, “What the fuck is this shit?” It’s not just one section.
I passed it over to my now-ex but then-wife, Mel. “Have youseen this shit? What the fuck?”
“That’s the stupidest looking book I’ve ever seen. You should buy it,” she said.