DVD REVIEW: ADOPTED

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STUDIO: Phase 4 Films
MSRP: $29.99
RATED: R
RUNNING TIME: 80 minutes
SPECIAL FEATURES:
• Bonus Footage
• Trailer

The Pitch

Pauly Shore’s Borat

The Humans

Pauly Shore, Pauly Shore, Pauly Shore, and a bunch of South Africans.


The Nutshell

In this mockumentary, Pauly Shore plays himself as a camera crew follows him to South Africa where he intends to follow in the footsteps of Angelina Jolie and Madonna by adopting a baby.  Somehow, using only his passport as collateral, he convinces an adoption agency to let him “test drive” three babies to see who he wants to adopt.  (And by babies, he means seven-year-old children.)  The next almost-hour-and-a-half plays out like a warped version of Elimidate.  Cue unfunny cultural confusion. 

“Why won’t I place a live human being child in your care? Okay, first: you were in Bio-Dome.  Second, you were in Bio-Dome with the nutjob Baldwin brother.  Third, I actually paid to see Bio-Dome.  In the theater!”


The Lowdown

It’s common to look at formerly successful comedians now and wonder what happened to them.  Eddie Murphy, Robin Williams… Pauly Shore.  Now, don’t get me wrong: Pauly Shore only ever had as much comedic talent as Eddie or Robin had in their pinky fingernails, but he was successful for much of the 1990s and, through no fault of his own, made some watchable films — at least, for those of us who were going through puberty at the time.  While Eddie and Robin both went the kids movie route for the most part — and Robin has been hit-or-miss with his darker fare but at least he’s trying something new — Pauly just disappeared.  Well, here he is, back and worse than ever.  Even for someone like me, who — yes, I’ll admit it — loves Encino Man and Son-in-Law, Adopted was painful to sit through.  Yes, it’s worse than Jury Duty.

To be fair, Pauly Shore’s intentions seem admirable enough once you see the final frame of the film, which displays stats of how many orphans there are in Africa, Asia, and America and provides a link to UNICEF for those who wish to help.  After sitting through the 80 minutes of abysmally unfunny nonsense, it’s hard to see how Pauly thought that this was the best way to get the word out to the masses that the kids need our help.  He’d probably have touched more people if he had just sent out a Tweet.  If anything, the social message I got from Adopted was that Africa doesn’t need self-righteous, entitled celebrities going over to their countries and adopting their youth.  And maybe that was his intention all along.

It was only minutes into their new life together as one big happy family that Pauly realized he’d made the biggest mistake of his life: Bio-Dome.


Adopted
is a mockumentary that takes its cues more from Bowling for Columbine than Best in Show.  Whatever your feelings are on Michael Moore, he has a distinctive style to his documentaries in that he places himself front and center in a heavily scripted format.  And that’s what Pauly does here, for better or worse — it’s clear very quickly that while he takes his cues from Moore, Pauly is not nearly the same caliber of filmmaker.  Or comedian, for that matter.

Actually, I could be wrong about Pauly’s influence.  Maybe Adopted is his answer to Sacha Baron Cohen.  His “Pauly Shore” character is a crass, ignorant American who believes that he can just fly into South Africa and pick up a baby to raise as his own, offending and irritating everyone he meets — except for the women that inexplicably like him instantly upon seeing him, of course.  Kind of an amalgam of both Borat and Bruno in terms of being endlessly inappropriate and having a penchant for adopting African babies.  Although, Pauly misses the aim of Baron Cohen’s movies in that while Borat and Bruno are ridiculous and absurd, the joke almost always lands on those with whom he interacts.  Baron Cohen uses their insulting ignorance to expose the bigotry and ignorance in others.  Instead, Pauly always ends up being the one that we laugh at.  It’s the difference between satire and totally flat comedy.

In one scene, when he first arrives in South Africa and is met with resistance at Oprah Winfrey’s Leadership Academy for Girls, he tries to get access based on his celebrity alone, bringing up his past movie hits and even doing his “Weasel” dance, all to the total lack of recognition from the unfortunate woman who had to deal with his antics on camera.  That’s the general response from everyone, and while it’s evident that Pauly himself is in on the joke — in his deadpan voiceover he even laments: “Don’t these girls know who I used to be?” — instead of coming across funny, it merely feels pathetic and depressing.  Pauly may be resigned to the fact that In The Army Now and Bio-Dome will always suck and never get any better over time, but it’s clear that he’s still sore about it.  He’s bitter and can’t let it go that his success was more due to a place and time rather than actual talent.

Racism: CURED!

It also is possible that Pauly Shore thought he was making a scathing satire, a critical political statement about American exceptionalism.  The way that he walks up to groups of black South Africans and calls them “Bro” and shakes their hands with an “I’m down with the brothers” handslap, talks music with them by saying that he’s buddies with 50 Cent, and tries to give them bro-hugs as if they’re African Americans on a CW sitcom, makes you cringe and want to go up to them after Pauly leaves and just say, “Look, guys, sorry about him.  Not all Americans are like that.”  But perhaps that’s what Pauly is trying to say: maybe Americans are that ignorant about other cultures and that they think all black people are like the ones they see on TV.  Maybe we still have that belief that the white man will always be seen as a savior and liberator when venturing into other countries — just look at the Bush Administration’s foreign policy.  I’d like to think that this was a rudimentary exercise in exposing just how clueless Americans in general can be, but perhaps I’m giving Pauly way too much credit here.

The likeliest scenario is that it’s a little of both.  Pauly sought to illuminate the humanitarian crisis in Africa and unfortunately chose the mockumentary as his narrative device.  And having written and directed the film, he lacked his Larry Charles to help him find the truly funny moments and keep the satire sharp and witty instead of annoying, repetitive, and cringe-inducing — and worst of all: unfunny.  I do have to give him credit, though: he knows that he’s in no position to get work otherwise, like his fellow fallen comedic brethren, and surprisingly he hasn’t gone the tired, neutered sitcom route.  Instead he’s taken it upon himself to keep working and doing the only thing he knows how to do.  It’s just too bad that he’s not better at it.

Not sure it’s all that good of an idea to bring Pauly Shore and his adopted son-to-be onto Loveline if you want to encourage people to put their kids up for adoption.  Kid would probably be better off in the dumpster.

The Package

It’s a made-for-DVD movie using a bunch of hand-held DV cameras, so it’s about what you would expect visually.  One of the perks of the mockumentary style is that it looks more “real” the worse it looks — although nothing in this movie feels remotely real, so I suppose that rule of thumb doesn’t work here after all.  There are about a dozen bonus scenes that somehow managed to not make the final cut.  Clearly this wasn’t due to time as it just clocks in at 80 minutes long, which is barely enough to be considered a feature, although you won’t hear me complaining.  These scenes are equally as unfunny as what made it into the film, so I guess that’s… good?  I don’t know what it matters since you most likely will not be watching this movie anyway much less wasting your time with these deleted scenes — at least I really hope you won’t.  There’s also the movie trailer, which I believe is the only place you can actually see it, which kind of defeats the purpose.

After being kinda unsure the whole movie, once I saw the standing ovation after his stand-up routine, I knew this movie had to be fiction.

1.5 out of 10






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ICE ROAD TRUCKERS: THE MOTION-PICTURE

Ice Road Truckers, History Channel’s successful reality-style documentary about the dangers of frozen-lake trucking routes and the characters that traverse them, may well get turned into a “tough guy movie” by John Moore (Max Payne).

The series was optioned several years ago by 20th Century Fox, but now Moore has pitched the studio an attractive approach to the material, according to Deadline. He sees it as a classically styled men-on-a-mission film-

“…Here’s a bunch of characters who tackle problems by getting in there and getting things done. We’ll turn it into a mission movie that harkens back to Towering Inferno, Jaws, or The Guns of Navarone. You got a problem, go solve it. [sic]”

I could see this being a lot of fun with the right cast of characters, big trucks, beautiful locations, and some powerful-feeling action– but is that the kind of movie that will get made? Will it have any heft to it, or will it be a mostly studio endeavor with a lot of CGI snow (I fucking hate CGI snow) smeared over everything..?

This is still only a pitch, so if the ice truckers are going to make it to screen, they still have the long, cold, and constantly-budget-melting Hollywood road of ahead of them.

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HAS PETER PARKER BEEN HIRED?


A report
on Blue Sky Disney
has Josh
Hutcherson signed, sealed and delivered for the role of Peter Parker in
the new Spider-Man
reboot.
Hutcherson has recently confirmed what we all knew – that he had
extensively screen tested for the role.

But not so fast. I have sources that
cast some doubt on this. At the very least Hutcherson has not yet been offered the part. He very well
could still get the offer (although some of my sources have placed
doubt on this), but as of this morning there was  no solid
casting of Hutcherson.

I’ve heard rumors that Hutcherson is a
favorite for the role of Cyclops in X-Men: First Class,
but I can’t verify that at the moment. Between Hutcherson and Michael
Fassbender, it’s interesting seeing how much overlap there may be in the
casting of these two Marvel projects.

In the meantime I wouldn’t expect to
find out who our new Spidey is for sure until Comic Con. Or until a
massive leak forces Sony’s hand.






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NACHO VIGALONDO IS OVERSEEING AN ALIEN INVASION






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MUTANT GIRLS SQUAD (REVIEW)

Mutant Girls Squad is what would happen if Tokyo Gore Police and X-Men met up one night, got knock-down drunk, made sweet, sweet love, and had an abortion together.

I mean that in the best possible way. Amazingly, it’s easily the most coherent work from Noboru Iguchi and Yoshihiro Nishimura (Machine Girl, Robo-geisha, etc.) yet, even with the added insanity of Tak Sakaguchi (Versus), and that’s probably because it follows the X-Men story almost to the letter. This focuses on the bad mutants of course, but even the Brotherhood didn’t have members like this- a girl with sword blades for nipples, for example, or a cheerleader with a chainsaw that shoots out of her ass. They also didn’t kill civilians at this fast a clip.

The story revolves around young Rin, a schoolgirl who gets picked on by her peers. She’s an awkward and shy teen that’s about to find out how different from everyone else she really is. On her sixteenth birthday after being bullied yet another time she starts to feel some weird changes in her body…. violent urges that scare her. She gets home only to have her parents sit her down to reveal that they’ve kept a secret from her all these years- she’s really a mutant. Her father demonstrates this by pulling off his shirt to reveal his malformed nipples and penis, and poor Rin has barely any time to get properly terrified before an anti-mutant task force (wearing nose-machineguns!) storms in and kills both her parents.
 
Rin soon gets angered and finds out what her power is- her hand transforms into a giant robot claw. She puts it to work, chopping everyone in sight into pieces and embarking on a rampage of destruction throughout a nearby mall. People don’t take too kindly to mutants round these parts so many try to stop her, but she ends up slaughtering dozens of shopkeepers and customers before being “rescued” by members of the Mutant Girls Squad. They take her away to their school and show that there are many more people like her out there in the world, and they’re all training to take over the world. They hate humans and the way that they mistreat mutants, though they’re clearly the next evolutionary step. (One might call them a Sisterhood of Mutants…) They teach Rin to control her powers and begin to send her and her classmates out on terrorist acts to bring humanity to its knees.

If you’ve been following you’ll know what’s going to take front row here, and that’s heaps and heaps of cheesy, disturbing, yet hugely entertaining gore. The film itself is ultimately shallow but just the right kind of ridiculous fun that you’ve come to expect from their films. Where else are you going to see a baker getting sliced and diced into a meaty loaf of bread, or a giant monster that squirts acid breast milk?

 

But the film actually has a little more substance to it than you’d expect. One striking moment is Rin’s rampage, which has multiple repercussions. Not only does it give the viewers a chance to revel in gratuitous bloodshed, but later on poor Rin has to deal with what she’s done before she knew how to control herself. It’s something that feels like it’s been missing from most superhero origin tales- a disturbed teen with mutant powers would most likely amass a decent body count. It adds a whole new level of darkness to her story.

But don’t expect anything too serious here… as I mentioned before, she’s being pursued by cops that wear friggin’ machineguns on their noses. This is sexually-charged extreme violence at its best.
 
Like the other movies in their filmography Mutant Girls Squad is definitely not for the majority of people, but those of you in the right mind-set will be pleased to know that each successive film is getting stronger.

8 out of 10


Mutant Girls Squad is playing at the New York Asian Film Fest on July 3rd and 5th. This is one to see in theaters, folks. Check here for tickets! It will also be released on DVD and Blu-Ray in early 2011.

 






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THE DEVIN'S ADVOCATE: IS THE LAST AIRBENDER EVEN IN 3D?

Halfway
through last night’s screening of The Last Airbender,
my girlfriend leaned over and whispered to me, “Will there be any 3D in
this 3D movie?”

I was relieved I wasn’t the only one.
For a little while I had wondered if I got bum glasses, or if perhaps my
depth perception had been suddenly snatched from me. But no, it was the
film. You may be paying extra money to see The Last Airbender in
3D this weekend, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be getting much of a 3D
experience.

This
seems to be the flip side of the Clash of the Titans disaster,
where the post-conversion 3D looked goofy and wrong. But at least that was 3D; Airbender looks more or less like a
completely flat film. Subtlety and nuance in 3D are to be commended, but
it would be helpful if the effect was sometimes noticeable.

Like
many other modern 3D movies, Airbender was shot to be 2D and converted
after the fact. What’s crazy about the flat 3D is that director M. Night
Shyamalan seems to have been composing his shots with great depth of
field, which should make a conversion easier. But even gimme 3D shots,
like a huge Fire Nation steam ship coming right at the camera, look just
like a 2D presentation.

Almost like a 2D presentation. As is
always the case with 3D, the picture is darker. In the case of The Last
Airbender
that means the film’s colors are
constantly muted, and two major nighttime action scenes become
indistinct. It’s like watching a film through… well, a film. But a
film of grime. It’s a pain in the ass.

The up side of a 3D movie being
barely in 3D is that it doesn’t seem likely to give anyone a headache,
unless it’s from eyestrain from trying to make out what’s happening in
night shots. But from a consumer point of view, post-conversion 3D is
once again showing itself to be a terrible scam. I know that this
process can
work, but it doesn’t seem
like anyone has made it work on a film that wasn’t specifically composed
to be 3D. But good luck finding Airbender in 2D – when I thought I would have
to pay to see the film I researched where it was playing, and the 2D
version is playing almost nowhere.

I
gave up on predicting the future of the latest 3D fad after many people
told me they actually liked the
3D in Clash of
the Titans
, but I can’t help but wonder if
paying extra money for a movie that is almost imperceptibly three
dimensional might not sour even those easily-pleased folks. God, I hope
so. I’m mostly done with the 3D stuff already.






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5NAL DESTINATION

The article title isn’t a joke.. at least, it’s not my joke.

If they were really ready to get that retarded, they should have gone with FIveNAL DESTINATION.

Fivenal Destination, which will be directed by James Cameron protege and 3D wiz Steven Quale, has been confirmed by Bloody Disgusting to open with a suspension bridge collapse. So there.

It would be cool if this newest sequel could be the opposite of boring.

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BRIEF PARANORMAL ACTIVITY 2 TRAILER APPEARS

The little horror movie that could, Paranormal Activity hit the right cultural spot in 2009, taking the internet by storm with a pseudo-grassroots campaign that led it all the way to a wide release and a nearly $200 million worldwide gross. Considering it took only $15,000 to produce, the film essentially cost Paramount the budget of a marketing campaign. Its resounding success necessitates a string of sequels that will likely continue an entry or two past the point of diminishing returns, and then even further on the Direct-To-DVD front (or whatever Direct-To-Stream paradigm is established by then).

The studio wasted no time churning out said sequel, and embedded below is a trailer for it. The studio must have some confidence, as they are pitting it directly against Saw VII (a franchise which has seen its release date creep back from Halloween one day at a time with each successive sequel) on October 22nd.  

The film credits Oren Peli for characters, but the intrepid low-budget filmmaker did not write or direct this sequel. That said, it appears to be very much more of the same, this time with easily imperiled dog and baby for audience shock!

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GEEK CHIC: THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN… AND RICHARD PRYOR!

Mondotees now has the license to Star Trek, Star Wars, the Universal Monsters and… Richard Pryor! Yes, the greatest poster store in the world has added Pryor to its list of amazing art, and they’re releasing a poster today.

Also being released: a truly gorgeous Bride of Frankenstein poster. These guys just keep getting better and better.

Go to Mondotees and start ordering! The posters are on sale either right now or in just ten minutes (depending on when you read this). Click here for Pryor! Click here for the Bride!






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GASH WEDNESDAY #44: Called

“I want to be an artist because I want to make the world beautiful and everything in it.” I found this written on a slightly crumpled piece of notebook paper that my mom saved in a stack of other school papers from my childhood. I wrote this at eight years old and it seems that by that time I’d come to an understanding that art was not limited to school projects. I had started to believe that it could be epic–something that might blow you away if it affected the right sensibilities.  

At ten, my family visited Washington, D.C. and the National Gallery of Art. We passed through room after room of paintings that were to me, at maybe sixty pounds and four foot five simply huge. Viewing the paintings required one to look up… and up–the scale, gigantic–the imagery esoteric to someone like me who wouldn’t yet recognize Napoleon or many other historical figures. The images were costume. Men and women stood and sat frozen with tenderly painted faces and stoic expressions posing in decadent fabrics. Somehow I knew that someone had preserved these lives in paint; and to me, when my gaze passed from the darkest part of their pupils to the reflection of light on the moist edge of the lower eyelid to the soft corners of the nose that were surely cartilage covered by oily skin, and down to the edges of the lips which were really only the careful transition of color and texture, and plane… and back up to the eyebrows that left a nearly imperceptible shadow on the skin beneath their arch… it was as if their very breath and the warmth of blood underneath their skin had in a series of sittings in an artist’s studio been preserved forever in amber.

This summer trip marked the point in my youth that I developed a natural awareness for art that went beyond arts and crafts in school. Arts and crafts were accessible and could be taught. One  started, toiled, finished, and upon completion, the piece would ultimately look similar to the other 19 projects in your fourth grade class. But then… then there were the books from the local  library and the books my parents bought for me that kept me drooling. Now that I think of it, at Christmases and birthdays they must have loved watching me rip the wrapping paper off of the heavy item that could be nothing but a book, gingerly tearing at the patterned paper in anticipation of the library of images that must lie inside. One Christmas, inside the book I ripped open, there were Michelangelo’s monumental figures in melodramatic poses on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. And one time there was a painting of a couple by John Singer Sargeant on a leftover tin that had once housed cookies–an empty tin that smelled faintly of butter and sugar was an item I prized, displayed in my bedroom on a shelf. I recognized the image alone as something extraordinary and was either unaware (more likely) or had forgiven the fact that someone had printed that image on the tin of some crappy cookies.

Even so young, I understood that art objects were not necessary objects. Wasn’t it obvious? The mystery behind this reasoning never bothered me. I liked it instantly. The National Gallery, the first significant gallery I’d been to, helped me to understand that the very fact that brick and mortar housed those objects in guarded places meant that those things had earned themselves a place in our culture. Had they not–had we not come up with prized, fragile objects from out of our human existence, we would experience a collective void. Those museums and galleries became destinations, meccas of sorts where we went to encounter the rare and beautiful. Art was brave. Its presence exerted itself. And seeing some made me want to see more.

In these formative years, things as simple as handwriting became an art if I decided it was precious. And I did. Sitting at the kitchen table, I made ample work for myself with my dad’s calligraphy pen and stationary, learning to form the script in turquoise colored ink while my sisters and I watched the Cosby Show, the pads of my right thumb and index finger stained blue from the bleeding ink for weeks. The way I cleaned my room, the way I arranged my stuffed animals, and the way I placed my collection of ceramic clown statues became purposeful. As soon as I learned to use my mom’s sewing machine, I began to use my allowance to purchase fabrics I selected in a color scheme to make pillows, curtains, and patchwork blankets for my room. All accents like these were chosen deliberately.
 
I began to crave the creation of things that transported the onlooker. I wanted to make things that provoked dreaming, because that is what art was to me. And wasn’t it apparent to everyone else? When I experienced a piece that made me nod, or shake my head, or loosen my jaw a little, or when I saw something that interrupted my breath, I wished to be the author and maker of a similar object or image. I wanted to be that shaman–I wanted to make that magic.
 
No one had to teach me to be interested in art objects or images. I was born with an acute sensitivity that left me turned on by what I saw, as if my eyes were hardwired to my heart. I think others are sensitive to art too. It doesn’t mean they can create the work, but connoisseurs are born all the time. And others–art appreciaters and curious ones flock to museums and exhibitions. I was one of the ones that was set apart. I did not have an affinity for art. No, I started in the middle. I was called by art the way that Amelia Earhart was called to the sky and Jacques Cousteau was called to the ocean. They couldn’t stay away. I was and still am compelled to create, as if it is my duty to do so and my eyes, heart, and hands were born connected.

Would things stay broken and people stay sick if I didn’t fulfill my role? No. I wasn’t called to fix things or to heal people, but what I was called to do is to fill a vacuum. Empty walls are vacuums. We put objects and images on them so they don’t feel “empty.” Floors are filled with decorative rugs. Expanses of cloth are filled with patterns. The non-contextualized images without homes have special buildings built for them called museums and galleries and they are collected there. It is a thing we must do, and aren’t we compelled? And doesn’t this compulsion manifest itself in children that do not discern between a piece of paper and carpet and wallpaper and walls when they take the crayon and scribble without much forethought? Why was I personally prescribed with an impetus this strong? Perhaps this is how we get our surgeons that don’t mind parting masses of sinew and vein with their scalpels, and our men and women that put out fires, and the arborists that climb and care for our trees. I spent so long dodging my calling that the anatomy of the call fascinates me.  I love to see it in others, in the people I work with, in the kids I know. Somehow we all settle into place, respective tools in our hands, faces pointed towards our own north.






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