Whenever my childhood Etch-A-Sketch decided to leave me a horribly cryptic message regarding bleak future events, I would immediately dismiss its crude, illegible warning with a snort, pop another Risperdal, and order my squadron of GI Joe figures to guard my spooky closet door with their insignificant lives. Had I known this seemingly useless time-wasting device could accurately predict the untimely demise of my immature, pot-smoking friends, I would have promptly sold this amazing contraption at the local flea market and used the proceeds to purchase a poorly-dubbed cassette of the B-52's Rock Lobster album. Opportunistic? With bells on, buddy.

After witnessing a similar series of events within directors Brendan Cowles and Shane Kuhn's goofy clown-oriented slasher Drive-Thru, I was left dumbstruck and drooling. Were my freak childhood memories somehow being channeled by a pair of up-and-coming horror filmmakers, or are the satanic powers found lurking deep inside my own Etch-A-Sketch slowly contaminating the entire world? Should I rush home to confront this evil creation armed with only a Zippo lighter and a generic pack of smokes, or should I consult with my ambulance-chasing lawyers about seeking financial retribution from a pair of guys who have raped and pillaged my deep-rooted childhood terrors?

Maybe I'll just pop another Risperdal and take a long nap, instead.

Unless you've accidentally misplaced your own lump of squishy gray matter, you shouldn't need a fortune-telling doodling device to uncover the fact that Drive-Thru is the latest LionsGate release that attempts to snatch a little green from the Velcro wallets of the horror-loving public without providing a high-quality product in exchange. While it never really succeeds at splitting your sides and dumping your steaming innards all over your brand new Disney-colored carpeting, this high-calorie 90-minute excursion into the dreaded horror/comedy universe should provide you and your illiterate friends with plenty of nifty late-night entertainment. As long as you don't expect too much from it, of course.

If Drive-Thru were a delicious all-beef hamburger value meal found only at participating locations, it would probably be listed as the Ho-Hum combo with no onions and extra cheese. Here's what's under the bun: Some axe-wielding nutjob in a pimped-out Horny the Clown outfit is slowly carving his way through the local teen population, starting with a group of white suburban thugs who make the deadly decision to stop at the local Hella Burger for a quick bite to eat. Soon he's moving onto sluts, stoners, and various other high school cliches we've seen way too many times to count. I'm getting gas just thinking about it.

Are these murders completely unrelated, or is there some mysterious underlying connection our heroes don't know about yet? Why is some random seventeen year-old rocker chick receiving psychic messages from the man responsible for these savage slayings? Does all of this nonsense have something to do with the Hella Burger president's dead son, or are these murders just the gory artistic expressions of a madman with a fast food fetish? More importantly, will you really care about anything you see in this movie once its finished inserting its greasy fingers into your easily amused ocular sockets?

Drive-Thru is essentially an off-brand pot of mystery meat constructed from a bevy of tasty genre livestock. The supposed story is supported with rusty plot devices borrowed from Craven's original A Nightmare on Elm Street entry, Cunningham's Friday the 13th franchise, a few loose boards from Halloween's house of horrors, and a several dozen useless one-liners discarded by various filmmakers who know better than to stick these groan-inducing clips and phrases into their actors' willing mouths. To say this flick is completely unoriginal and totally uninspired would be an understatement, a fact which is compounded tenfold when you consider all of the missed opportunities for fast food-related mayhem.

However, despite Cowles and Kuhn's obvious creative deficiencies, Drive-Thru still manages to provide an evening's worth of mildly engaging entertainment. It's stupid enough to operate as your prototypical brainless slasher, incorporating just enough humor to give you the feeling that nobody is taking this mess too seriously. If you still need further proof of the film's light-hearted nature, behold filmmaker Morgan Spurlock's strangely hilarious cameo as a befuddled Hella Burger employee faced with the daunting task of removing unruly teenagers from the restaurant's colorful play area. Still, the fast food motif isn't explored as deeply as its garish DVD artwork suggests, leaving this farcical film fiend craving seconds.

Did I enjoy watching Drive-Thru? You bet. Would I classify it as a good movie? Not on your best friend's baby's momma's life, dear readers. This is just another run-of-the-mill comedic slasher that borrows heavily from the films that influenced its dodgy creators. While the performances are decent, the gore is effective, and the production values are unusually high for this sort of picture, it still doesn't rise above its station as a throwaway slice of fast food entertainment. Furthermore, Drive-Thru never handles the material in a way that separates it from the forty-four other like-minded flicks currently clogging retail arteries as we speak.

And it doesn't even come with a cheap plastic toy.

What an odd movie. I went in thinking there was an interesting concept at work, I was hoping for an interesting movie, but my hopes were kept in check by the cast. Honestly, in my opinion Kevin Costner's filmography is spotty, I have never been a big fan of Demi Moore, and Dane Cook in a thriller? Pretty early in his movie career to be trying his hand at drama, methinks he needs to work on his comedy first.

The bright spot going in had to be William Hurt, who has had a couple of great roles in recent years in A History of Violence and the "Battleground" episode of Nightmares & Dreamscapes. Anyway, I went in with low expectations and I walked out with rather conflicting feelings. On one hand the movie has some serious flaws, but on the other, I found myself being entertained to no end. It was a weird experience.

I am sure all of you have had that experience at one time or another. You go into a movie, you recognize it as being pretty bad, but you find yourself enjoying every moment. Usually, they are the kind of movies that you find on late at night on some random cable station. You watch it and are amazed that you are smiling at it, enjoying every odd minute of it. You marvel at the concept, which may be interesting, watch as scenes whither and die no matter how hard they try. When it ends, you think, "Wow, that was kind of bad, but damn if it wasn't enjoyable." Mr. Brooks is that kind of movie.

The story follows Earl Brooks (Costner), a successful businessman and loving family man. On the surface, Earl seems like a great guy, but this great guy has a dark side that he has successfully hid from his loved ones, and everyone else. You see, Brooks has a voice in his head who loves to kill. The voice, embodied by William Hurt, is named Marshall. He and Earl will go out and kill every once in awhile. However, Earl doesn't want to do it anymore; he even goes to AA meetings to help control himself. Marshall isn't quite ready to give up, and the two head out on one final kill. Things go a bit sideways as Earl is photographed on his latest evening of fun. A man who calls himself Mr. Smith (Dane Cook) approaches Mr. Brooks with an offer. In return for not going to the police, he wants to go with him on his next kill — he wants to get a taste of the blood rush of murdering another human being. An odd request to be sure, but one that seems to work out for our killer of the title.

Now, that sounds like it would be a pretty cool movie on its own, but that is not all that we get. We get the added bonus of a detective (played by Demi Moore) hot on the trail of our killer. Okay, that doesn't sound so bad, but that isn't all. The detective is also going through a nasty divorce and is being pursued herself, by another serial killer. If that isn't enough, Mr. Brooks' daughter, Jane (Danielle Panabaker, who I thought was Amber Tamblyn for the whole movie), is back from college, and she has a secret of her own.

Okay, now I really like the Jekyll and Hyde elements of the story. Costner and Hurt work wonderfully together, Hurt being the bloodthirsty heavy of the relationship, not to mention the brains. Watching them go to work together is a thing of beauty. Hurt goads Costner, Costner tries to resist, repeat. Another good thing about the movie is, believe it or not, Dane Cook. He is not great, and I am still a little surprised at how early he is trying the whole drama thing. Still, his role as the wannabe killer is pretty good, I was convinced by his earnestness.

I like how it plays out — however, that falls under the guilty pleasure type of like. The story goes through so many convenient coincidences and acrobatic moves to make everything work. Everything is made to tie together with a nice little bow, but it felt so manufactured, instead of feeling organic. The other killer is tied into the plot, indirectly, the divorce is tied into the plot. That brings up another point; the world of Mr. Brooks is not unlike the comic book world of a superhero, what with Costner called the Thumbprint Killer and the other guy called Hangman; all we need now is a Super-something to do battle with them.

As for the bad, there are issues with day turning into night, and vice versa, without rhyme or reason, and forget about scene continuity. The very beginning is a little awkward as the opening text indicates that the "hunger has returned to Mr. Brooks." It is inadequate shorthand exposition for the Brooks character. It seems to me that there could be some very interesting exposition for the character and his "head" person, far and beyond what is offered here.

Then there is pretty much every scene with Demi Moore. Each one grinds the story to a halt. I was amazed at how bad she was in this film, it was like she wasn't even trying. Pacing is also an issue, partially due to Moore's scenes, but also due to the Costner/Hurt interactions. Now they worked great together, but the way they play out, as if the other characters are unaware of these conversations, the method that is used is essentially no method at all, therefore the pacing just gets all out of whack. Finally, there is the ending. No, I won't give it away, I just wish it had the courage of its convictions and didn't bail out at the last moment — that would have been great.

As unlikely as it is that I was actually entertained by this, I was, yet I also could not help but think that this could have been so much better. The whole voice/person in the head thing was great. I would have loved a deeper examination of how that came to be, where he came from, what led him to give birth to this monstrosity. There are also threads that hint at bigger things in his family that would have been great psychological horror/thriller fodder. If only they had cut down Demi Moore's role, not eliminate the detective on the prowl, but all of this other killer and divorce stuff, it was unnecessary and forced the screenplay through hoops to make everything fit.

Bottom line. It is a seriously flawed thriller that is not a good movie, but still entertained me to no end. It is a strange feeling, but that is how it is. The critic in me wants to trash it and give it a poor rating, but the movie fan in me wants to give it a good rating. I am reminded of Roger Ebert's review of the awful Basic Instinct 2:

I cannot recommend the movie, but … why the hell can't I? Just because
it's godawful? What kind of reason is that for staying away from a movie?
Godawful and boring, that would be a reason.

So, here is my compromised rating:

Mildly Recommended.

Christopher Beaumont spends much of his time writing about entertainment when he isn’t sitting in a movie theater. He is known around the office as the “Movie Guy” and is always ready to talk about his favorite form of entertainment and offer up recommendations. Interests include science fiction, horror, and metal music. His writings can be found at Draven99’s Musings, as well as Film School Rejects.

A good biography will make you regret never meeting the subject. A great biography will make you fall in love. This documentary about author Hubert Selby Jr. falls into the latter category. Cubby, as he called himself, was a warm man who transcended a great deal of pain to create beautiful and lasting art.

This compelling film is a well-edited mix of interviews with the author and his friends and associates, historical background, and feature film clips. It is narrated by Robert Downey Jr. and features interviews with artists such as poet Amiri Baraka, writer/performers Henry Rollins and Lou Reed, authors Richard Price and Jerry Stahl, actors Jared Leto and Ellen Burstyn, directors Matt Polish, Darren Aronofsky, and Jem Cohen, literary critic Michael Silverblatt, and writer/publisher Gilbert Sorrentino.

The story of Cubby's life is linear and well-told. Period stock photography is used, as well as actual photos of the author and his family. An only child who grew up in Brooklyn, Cubby dropped out of school in the eighth grade and joined the Merchant Marine. There, he developed alcoholism and contracted tuberculosis. He spent the next several years of his life in the TB ward, systematically losing pieces of his lungs and rib cage, and the rest of his life battling lung problems. He began writing because he didn't have training to do anything else. His first novel, Last Exit to Brooklyn, was a critical success and an international bestseller. The proceeds from that book, however, went into his arm: in his early 30s, his alcoholism had flowered into heroin addiction, and he didn't become clean until he turned 40.

Cubby's earlier books reflect the ravages and pain of addiction, but his later ones the hope of recovery. His life and art demonstrate that the difficult experiences of life can be transmuted into beauty. Although many people took offense at his depictions of addiction, the underlying theme of his work is the destruction "wreaked by the American dream" and, in later books and also in his life, that love can help us transcend pain and darkness. In fact, several interviewees, as well as the author himself, spoke of the necessity to say "yes" to life, whatever it is that life offers.

Cubby was also known for his unique style of writing, as evidenced by the slash in this movie's title. He wrote in a colorful vernacular, shocking some readers. He also felt that the author was taking dictation, that "…the responsibility of the artist is to transcend the human ego." Cubby was, and is, more popular in Europe than in his own United States.

The film itself is well-crafted and was an Official Selection in the Deauville Film Festival 2005. It was co-directed by Michael W. Dean, another entry into Dean's body of work that inspires artists to, like Hubert Selby Jr., step outside the commercial mainstream, and create strong and honest art.

By Uncle Creepy (of Dread Central)

The Pang Brothers. I'm thinking Danny and Oxide should change their names to Hit and Miss. Why, you ask? Because that is the perfect description of their work. Best known for their Eye trilogy, the Brothers have been pumping out ghost stories with mixed results for the better part of the last ten years. While The Eye was a great film and even The Eye 2 served its purpose, it was the laughably bad The Eye 10 that nearly made me write the duo off completely.

Here in the States J-Horror has just about run its course. Even Sirand, our resident foreign freak, is fed up with the twitchy chicks with long black hair. What was once a breath of fresh air from the Far East has now become soured by the stench of cliché. So what's a pair of filmmakers looking to cash in on a passing craze to do? Simple! Head to America and make their latest spook-fest specifically for Western audiences. Enter The Messengers. A film that is — you guessed it — hit and miss.

Sixteen-year-old Jess (Kristen Stewart) is a bit of a problem child. After a couple of rough years in Chi-town, her family packs up and heads to North Dakota to become — hold on to your asses — sunflower farmers(!). Well, I guess someone's gotta do it, right?

Upon reaching their new dwelling place, Jess discovers that they are not alone. Living with her parents and her little brother are some pretty nasty spirits and a murder of crows. Of course her folks assume that she's just acting out again so they dismiss her rantings as a cry for attention. Luckily for Jess, her brother can see the ghosties too, but the poor kid can't speak so she can't even get her story corroborated. Hell, at least she knows she's not crazy. Things quickly get out of hand, and before you know it, the entire family is taking on the evil in the home as one unit while screaming their heads off on the road to a twist ending, which, I must admit, I didn't see coming.

All in all, aside from some strange plot choices (read: sunflower farming(!) being the profession of choice) The Messengers does just fine in the story department. More importantly the ghosts do their jobs well enough when it comes to delivering the creeps. There were more than a couple of "that's messed-up" moments that had me grinning with goosebumps.

So where did this little film go wrong aside from the ghosts being damned near completely absent during the movie's finale? The answer is simple. With the influx of Asian horror hitting these shores at a truly fast and furious pace, we've seen all these gags before. The floating spectres, the twitching bodies, the stuttering crawling type movements, the discolored clutching hands reaching out to hold their victims at bay — talk about déjà vu. Still, even with all these familiarities, The Messengers does have a few inspired moments. At least this time no one was farting to keep away the spirits (a less than inspired scene from The Eye 10). Thanks for leaving that gag out, Pangs! Go you!

On the supplemental side of the sunflower farm(!), we have a pretty standard package. All that's here is a cast and crew commentary that, just like the film itself, feels very hit or… I'm not gonna say it a third time. You know what I mean. From there we have a series of seven featurettes entitled Examining The Messengers that doles out the standard making-of stuff we've all come to expect. Again, nothing to write home about.

Maybe it's time to just hang up the old long-haired black wig. We're ready for and need something new. Something that can spark the imagination and make the mind's floorboards creak with the type of dread that we crave in a good ghost story.

Sorry, guys, but this is just a case of the message getting here too damned late.

Special Features

• Cast and crew commentary
• Examining The Messengers seven-part behind-the-scenes featurette(s)

Film

2 1/2 out of 5

Special Features
2 1/2 out of 5

Dread Central is the premier website for breaking news, original content and active community in the world of horror, covering movies, DVDs, games, collectibles, live events and music. If it’s got something to do with the dark and horrific, you’ll find it on Dread Central.

By Uncle Creepy (of Dread Central)

Zzzz … zzzz … zzzz … Huh?! What's that?! There's a Hannibal Lecter movie going on? THE HELL YOU SAY! I haven't seen hide nor hair of Anthony Hopkins and I've been sitting here watching … well okay, napping, for over two hours! Surely someone didn't make a Hannibal film without him! How could they?

Well I'll be.

Let's face it, folks — we live in a world in which everything is over-explained. There's just no mystery anymore. We have to know everything. At least that was Thomas Harris' take when he wrote the novel on which this film is based. Yep, our good Dr. Lecter's early years have been dissected, analyzed, and finally put to celluloid. So does it work? In a word — no.

Hannibal Rising has all of the stunning beauty of the other films in this franchise; yet, even that cannot save it from its own mediocrity. Let's start at the beginning …

After his parents are killed, young Hannibal and his sister, Mischa, are held prisoner by a roving pack of would-be Nazis. Things get desperate for the men and their captives. So desperate in fact, that the group has to resort to cannibalism as a means to stay alive. Of course this not only develops Hannibal's taste for flesh but also drives him a bit mad. Fast forward a few years. Hannibal (played with much scenery chewing goodness by Gaspard Ulliel) sets out on his own to find the men who held him and his sister hostage way back when. What follows is your standard revenge tale which — dare I say it — lacks any real bite.

Part of the magic behind the character we all know and love was Hopkins' deliciously ghoulish portrayal. Ulliel isn't bad for what he has to work with, but Sir Anthony he is not. Bottom line — this leaves a huge void not only in the film but within the hearts of fans that cannot be filled.

Now let's talk about the word. You see it there in those enticing red letters. Unrated. Could there have been a bit more meat to pick at that the MPAA wisely shielded us from? Maybe the presence of a little more grue could make this predominantly boring and flaccid piece of unnecessary fiction go down a bit easier. Guess what? We get nothing. Not a single extra drop of blood. Just a few more minutes of exposition. Thanks. Appreciate that. Why not just include a coupon for sleeping pills as a DVD extra?

Speaking of which …

Don't expect too much from the supplemental material. We get a feature commentary with director Peter Webber and producer Martha De Laurentiis that amounts to little more than pretentious back-patting. Seven minutes of deleted scenes with optional ass-kissing commentary. A seven-minute featurette hosted by production designer Allan Starski (who is nothing without Hutch) entitled Designing Horror and Elegance (can't you just smell the snobbery?). And then things are capped off with a sixteen-minute featurette that at least sounds promising, Hannibal Lecter: The Origin of Evil. The operative word there being sounds. Instead of a concise look at the fava bean-eating madman, we just get a bit more musing by the culprits behind this snooze-fest.

Yay.

In closing … aw, screw it. I'm going back to sleep. Someone wake me when Hopkins returns from making shitty courtroom thrillers with a whole new recipe for evil.

Special Features

• Commentary with director Peter Webber and producer Martha De Laurentiis
• Deleted scenes with optional commentary
• Designing Horror and Elegance featurette
• Hannibal Lecter: The Origin of Evil featurette
• Trailers

Film

2 1/2 out of 5

Special Features
2 1/2 out of 5

Dread Central is the premier website for breaking news, original content and active community in the world of horror, covering movies, DVDs, games, collectibles, live events and music. If it’s got something to do with the dark and horrific, you’ll find it on Dread Central.

Robert T. Ironside was the Chief of Detectives for the San Francisco Police Department until a sniper’s bullet paralyzed the lower half of his body. Though he lost the use of his legs, his mind remained as strong and sharp as ever, which combined with his dogged determination allowed him to stay on the force as a special department consultant. He lived at the police station and used a modified police van to get around town. He was assisted by Sgt. Ed Brown, Officer Eve Whitfield, and on a more personal level by ex-con Mark Sanger, whose two incarcerations Ironside was involved.

The pilot, created by Colin Young, aired as an NBC television movie in March 1966. The series ran from September 14, 1967 to January 16, 1975. Young served as executive producer for the first five episodes and was replaced by Frank Price. A few scenes of the pilot are cut at an extremely rapid pace, causing unintentional humor. Thankfully, that editing style doesn’t transfer to the series. Quincy Jones created the theme song and music for some of the episodes.

When we first meet Ironside, he is man’s man. He drinks bourbon, eats chili, and talks tough, using “flaming” to get around the censors. His drinking and swearing lose their prominence over the season. Ironside provides a lot of the story’s exposition to the viewers as he solves the crimes from his wheelchair, which limited the plot’s action.

Raymond Burr played Ironside after a successful eight seasons as Perry Mason from the show of the same name that ran on CBS from 1957-66. The shows were slightly similar; Mason solves mysteries in a courtroom and Ironside solves mysteries on the streets. Both were excellent at their jobs and almost always prevailed. These factors may have helped viewers accept Burr’s transition, which has always been a notorious one as many actors have failed to have lightening strike twice.

One of the more enjoyable aspects in watching old television dramas is that you’ll never know who is going to show up. Over this first season, some of the more recognizable talent and future television stars are Tiny Tim, Jack Lord, John Saxon, Bruce Lee, Robert Carradine, Norman Fell, Robert Reed, Edward Asner, and Susan St James, appearing as two different characters only a couple of months apart.

Unfortunately, as with many of the Universal Television DVD releases, there are no extras. For those that want to see the series in the order the episodes were produced rather than aired, which will make more sense for those who notice hair and character development, the list is as follows:

Ironside Pilot
Leaf In The Forrest
Eat, Drink, And Be Buried
The Monster Of Comus Towers
Something For Nothing
Tagged For Murder
Message From Beyond
Dead Man's Tale
The Man Who Believed
An Inside Job
The Taker
Let My Brother Go
Light At The End Of The Journey
A Very Cool Hot Car
The Past Is Prologue
Girl In The Night
The Fourteenth Runner
Force Of Arms
Memory Of An Ice Cream Stick
To Kill A Cop
The Lonely Hostage
The Challenge
All In A Day's Work
Barbara Who
Perfect Crime
Officer Bobby
Trip To Hashbury
Due Process Of The Law
Return Of The Hero

Ever had a nasty fight with someone close to you? Ever think to turn it into a screenplay, make a movie about it, and turn it into a comedy? Logically, no. However, this is Hollywood, and someone tried.

Peyton Reed directs this supposed comedy, starring Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston. Vaughn is never off, and Aniston always fits into her role as the adorable girlfriend/wife. What they’re given here is nothing more than a long-winded fight that plays out in such a miserable fashion, it’s impossible to pick out the jokes.

Actually, it’s almost awkward to watch. As their fight spills into a dinner scene, it almost seems like you’re one of the guests, exchanging glances with everyone else at the table looking for a way out of the room. Thanks to home media, you have that option, and it's recommended you do so.

Jon Favreau reunites on screen with Vaughn, improvising a fun role that seems like a slightly toned down version of their starring spots in the 2001 comedy Made. The Break-Up needs far more of these two, and far less of everyone else.

The tiring arguments between Aniston and Vaughn’s characters are grating enough, yet even when they’re not on screen, someone else is joining the battles. Aniston fights with her boss, Vaughn argues with friends, and it spirals downhill from there. This is just not entertainment.

Some small credit is deserved for pulling away from the usually painful romantic comedy formula, yet the attempts at drama fall flat because you’re unsure if you’re supposed to be laughing at the situation as in some dark comedies. The problem is the concept doesn’t work as entertainment. You can argue at home. The Break-Up has no idea what it’s trying to be, and neither does it’s audience.

While it’s hardly going to be the HD DVD you’ll pull of your shelf to show off to friends, this is a well-rounded transfer. Colors are spectacular, and the compression is held at bay. A light layer of grain tends to show up against the background, though a nicely calibrated black level keeps this out of a non-discriminating view. The overall feel is soft, and sharper detail is lost. Still, it’s a decent effort for a film that doesn’t need a HD transfer in the first place.

Break-Up surprises in the audio department too. There’s extensive surround work, especially effective during the opening scenes in Wrigley Field. There’s not much to work with in terms of bass and the film has no need for it. There’s always something nicely worked into all channels that’s not expected, and it’s a fun audio mix even if the film itself is a wasted effort.

Extras are strong and varied, a nice set up for those who want to see more. An alternate ending doesn’t do much for or against the film and a commentary by Reed and Vaughn explains the change. Eight deleted scenes feel redundant after watching the movie (there’s only so many way to show an argument), and combined with an extended dinner sequence, there’s 10 minutes of additional film content total.

Seven outtakes last 12 minutes and don’t offer much. A whopping 21 minutes of improvisational material between Vaughn and Favreau is fun to watch simply to see how many different ways their scenes could have played out.

Imperfect Harmony is the first featurette, a look at a minor character played by Jason Bateman. Included is his audition tape. The Making of the Break-Up is self explanatory, running 15 minutes. A nifty tour of Chicago is contained on a separate menu, looking at the sights featured in the film from the actor’s perspective as their shooting. It’s one of the best choices on the disc.

Two commentaries, the best led by Vaughn and Aniston, are better than listening to the film itself. The director goes solo on the second track. HD DVD exclusive extras include Universal’s U-Control, featuring little tidbits during the film in a picture-in-picture window.

Apparently, people enjoy watching their lives unfold on screen. The film more than doubled its money during its theatrical run. Somehow it managed to cost an estimated $52 million to produce, which is staggering for a movie that is almost entirely contained in a single room.

Matt Paprocki is the reviews editor for Digital Press, a classic video game website which he called home after his fanzine (Gaming Source) published its final issue. The deep game collection which spans nearly 30 systems and 2,000 games line his walls for reasearch purposes. Really. He has also begun writing freelance for the Toledo Free Press.

Let me first start by saying, I never watched Hostel. There was something about glorifying the abject horror of torture made my stomach tense up and do a flip. Fast forwarding a few years and my stomach has gotten stronger on the inside (flabbier on the out). It's probably a side effect of being married for so long. Whatever the reasoning, it is just in time for Hostel: Part II. Lucky me.

Hostel: Part II starts off with the lone survivor from the first movie, Paxton (Jay Hernandez) hiding out at the house of his girlfriend's grandmother fearing for his life. Of course he doesn't last much longer, and just as soon as he's extinguished we're whisked away and are introduced to three girls, a wild child Whitney (Bijou Phillips), a rich prude Beth (Lauren German), and their butter-faced nerd friend Lorna (Heather Matarazzo). They’ve decided to go on a trip to Prague and upon departure are soon persuaded to alter their plans to include a five-star spa in Slovakia. Upon checking into the hotel, the wheels begin turning — the super-bored and-super rich folks begin bidding on who gets to "play" with them.

From there, I expected to be transported into Hell and to wish to God I never saw the movie. Yet that didn't happen. The horror and terror is practically nonexistent. I'm not about to go through the glorified gore or torture scenes, but I will say there are scythes, saws, clippers, knives, and blunt instruments all used in various ways. Unfortunately, those ways did little to revolt me. A blood bath — whoopity doo. Electroshock "therapy" — seen it in First Blood (or was it Rambo: First Blood Part II?) years ago. Aside from the ending, which made me wince, very little originality went into the heart of this film.

And that's where another problem arises. It takes far to long to even get to the heart of the movie. For the first hour we're basically hanging around with these girls as they yip and yap at art school, on the train, in the hotel ,and at an outdoor festival. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if I actually gave a shit about them but I didn't. I realize these are expendable characters, but the director (Eli Roth) should have at least made an attempt to give me a way to relate to these girls. Maybe one takes care of old people in her spare time and has a heart of gold. Perhaps another takes in stray animals and she's being kicked out her apartment because of it. Something — anything! I figured, if he couldn't be bothered with helping me to identify with them, then I sure as hell couldn't be bothered about them or their fate either. Fuck 'em — let 'em die a horrible death.

The final nail in the coffin, and it pains me greatly to say it, is even the gratuitous nudity, which is staple in these exploitation type films, is junk. The first Hostel, from what I understand, was filled to the brim with tits, ass, and sex. Hostel: Part II has very few scenes of nudity. I was expecting wave after luscious wave of European hotties baring it all for my enjoyment. Yet, instead of being dished a healthy dose of the female anatomy, I was instead given several shots of men in all their glory. This may be good for the sadistic women out there, but not, I repeat, not what I wanted to see. What a huge letdown.

Mostly, Hostel: Part II is major disappointment. I've seen far worse things surfing the web and ending up on sites like Ogrish.com (which surprisingly has cleaned itself up). As a matter of fact, the boredom from the first half of the movie was even more painful to watch than the "horrifying" torture scenes. And now that I've grown a full pair of manly balls, I'm going to rent the first movie just to see what all the fuss was about. I suspect it was over a whole lot of nothing, but it's gotta be better than this.

For a variety of reasons, it’s tough to make a movie about making movies. Works like The Player and Entourage have been successful by simultaneously poking fun at Hollywood and, in the latter case, embracing the myths it builds around itself. Considering the affection people have for movies, and the lengths people will go to to get into the business, you’d think it would be prime territory for stories. But films about making films frequently feel self-indulgent and too inside.

Hollywood Dreams suffers from a lot of those issues, but the bigger problem is its lack of focus and rather implausible narrative. The film centers on Margie (Tanna Frederick), an aspiring actress who will do anything to make it in the business. The film’s first chunk chronicles a series of increasingly embarrassing episodes in her life, opening with a grainy audition video, in which she breaks down and cries for the first of many times in the film. She goes on to eat and then spit out Mallomars, gets kicked out of her house, and in a particularly pathetic scene, wanders into, then gets fired from, a film a group of middle schoolers are shooting.

Throughout the film, but in this part in particular, it’s unclear how we’re meant to feel about Margie. There are certainly some elements of satire in her total commitment to her work, above any sort of personal concern. But the film at times goes so broad with its cruelty that it’s hard to buy her as a human being. By having us laugh at her at the start of the film, it becomes tough to shift to the pathos they were going for in the latter half. The character is so grating, it’s hard to spend 100 minutes with her. I wouldn’t want to meet someone like David Brent or Tony Soprano in real life, but they’re fascinating to watch on screen. Margie is just annoying.

In retrospect, the film’s opening is rather misleading. The bulk of the film involves Margie’s stay at the house two wealthy gay film producers, Kaz (Zack Norman) and Caesar (David Proval). She winds up there when she randomly meets Kaz on the street, a plot point that’s so lazy I spent a good chunk of the film waiting for the twist, to find out that he was really evil or using her in some way. But, that never comes and in reality it’s just lazy writing that the character should get everything she wants handed to her.

We shift from the story of this struggling actress on the streets to a woman with some power hoping to find a balance between personal happiness and professional success. The bulk of the film finds all the characters struggling with this issue, and it provides some good material. Margie’s counterpart is Robin (Justin Kirk), an actor who uses his ambiguous sexuality to help get roles. In each case, the characters must play a character in real life to help them get the part in films. That’s the core of the film, the idea that everyone in Hollywood is lying all the time to get ahead.

However, the film’s somewhat haphazard narrative structure deprives it of any real momentum. After Margie’s initial journey through the street, almost every scene takes place at the mansion. We never get any context for the kind of success that Robin has. A journalist asks him why he’s so mysterious, implying that he’s been successful enough to rouse public opinion, however we never know what level of success he’s had, and that makes it tough to understand the way he deals with Margie. The film deals entirely in theoretical fame, we never see anyone actually achieve anything, except for one thing at the end, and in that case it’s another deus ex machina.

Much of the film is based on the characters becoming enamored of Margie and trying to help her get ahead, yet she’s such an annoying person, it’s hard to believe. There’s some justification within the film for all the actions, but it just rings false. The film would work if she was so charismatic and beautiful that people just couldn’t resist her, and as a result are willing to put up with her eccentricity, but that’s not the case.

The film is clearly built with actors in mind, with lengthy scenes that frequently include monologues and/or hysterical crying outbursts. This means that the film is somewhat episodic, with some moments working better than others. The best scenes are the moments of raw, real emotion, such as the devastating scene in which Margie breaks down while talking to her aunt, or the moment when we find out what’s really up with her brother. While I had some issues at the time, the first chunk of the film is very effective at reaching that uncomfortable comedy place of works like The Office or more specifically the HBO series, The Comeback.

Ultimately, the film doesn’t do enough good to justify its own existence. The aforementioned Comeback hits this same material, as does the far superior Ellie Parker. That film not only had a better script, it had an incredible lead performance from Naomi Watts. Tanna Frederick isn’t bad, but the script requires her to have far too many freakouts and crying jags. Director Henry Jaglom never finds a consistent balance between the more outré comedy elements and the real emotion. While there are some strong moments, the whole never quite pulls together.