Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Yola Wants 300. Of Anything

Morning, insects. It is I, Yola. Wednesday, being eat what you kill day, I am most likely to be found pacing the halls, waiting for my 11 o'clock. I hope they had garlic last night. And a glass or five of wine, preferably a decent Barbera.

What's on the toaster? Roxy Music's Flesh and Blood. It's what the Liebestod sounds like on champagne and Novocain, if you like that kind of Germanic hooey. Which I don't. Where's the change up switch? Ah, Screamin' Jay, here I come.

It's all because I tried to watch 300 last night. I'm as happy as the next gal to see my spear dripping with blood, and men in skimpy leather jerkins is always welcome after a long day of Hugo Boss. But what part of over the top didn't these animation boys understand? Dialogue is not a blunt weapon, people. SHUT UP, King Leonides. SHOVE that self-serving Sparta crap and let me watch the show. For a bunch of boo-yah chanting hooligans, they sure spend a lot of time pissing around.

So I ask you people, what movie drives you the most crazy? Let me rephrase (I hear BJ tuning up for more flash fiction, G-d knows we don't want that): what otherwise interesting flick has one little deal-breaker that makes you want to kill the producer? And by kill, I don't mean kill. Do that on your time, please.


  1. To fight the doldrums of summer reruns, I dusted off a box of old Hitchcock DVDs, figuring I couldn't go wrong with the master of suspense. And mostly, that's been true. Saboteur, Secret Agent and The Lady Vanishes were all top-notch entertainment.

    But I must address the issue of Blackmail. As any would-be Hitchcockian will rush to inform you, this was his first sound picture. It was actually first shot as a silent, and released in both formats. It also introduced many of the themes he employed to better effect in later films. Blah blah blah. What no one wants to admit is that the ending sucks! It just sort of peters out, leaving you sitting there with your remote in your hand thinking "I sat through THAT for THIS?"

    If you've seen Saboteur, or read Joseph Conrad's Secret Agent (upon which it is based), you've seen the same ending done right.

    So that's my peeve of the day. Bad endings are bad enough without sycophantic critics lacking the balls to admit they're bad. I can almost forgive them, I suppose, in treading lightly on old Hitch, but they have no excuse when it comes to a true turkeymaster like M. Night Whatshisass.

  2. Crawl back under your rock, Psycho. I think M. Night Shyamalan is a GENIUS, and I have impeccable taste. Cerberus told me so just the other night, and if anyone knows good taste, its a guy with three tongues.

  3. I got a 300 word short story you can have. Of course, all 300 are the same word, but it's a really good one.