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Lately I’ve been talking a lot about movies. I’ve been making a concerted effort to head to the theater for anything that looks interesting or even remotely watchable. And so far it’s been pretty rewarding. I enjoy watching movies, and apparently I love to talk shit about them even more. Today’s movie review is going to look at not just the movie I saw, Death Note, but also the circumstances around the watching of this movie, and the strange cult of dorks that pop big boners over anything Japanese.

For those of you who don’t know, I live in a town called Hagerstown, Maryland. Hagerstown is characterized by its overall dearth of anything worthwhile, cultural or otherwise. Every time I go out and deal with the public here I feel like a refugee in a zombie movie. The natives here frighten me. For every good one there are ten bad ones with poor hygiene, big trucks, and a general disdain of anything not country. The town is consumed by racism, homophobia, xenophobia, and anything good-ophobia. This also includes the movie theater. Apparently there are two, but the one never has movie listings on Moviefone, so as far as I’m concerned there’s only one. It’s a big ass multiplex not unlike one you would find at any mall or shopping center in any suburban town. Sixteen screens of whatever Hollywood has to offer. No surprises, just the big studio stuff. I’ve come to accept this. There’s nothing I can do about it, and it’s not too bad. I have Netflix if I want to watch something a bit more challenging. Or I can make my way to Baltimore or DC if there’s something really independent that’s out that I want to see.

Regal Cinemas, the movie theater conglomerate that owns my particular multiplex, offers a number of “special features” from time to time that are limited runs of anything from old movies to operas. Prior to Baby Mama they showed two such previews, one for First Blood, which I’m really fucking bummed that I missed because I was watching THE BLACK KEYS, BITCH!, and Death Note, a Japanese film that I’d never heard of and promptly forgot about. When I checked the movie listings I saw that it was playing that night, and I said eff it, I want to go see it. Why? I didn’t know if this movie was going to be good or awful, but it was something different. If my movie bucks could encourage them to keep bringing back different fare from off the beaten path then it’s worth the investment. I talked wifey into it, so off we headed to the movies on a completely unknown movie adventure.

Something didn’t feel right in the parking lot. It was a Tuesday night and spots were really hard to come by. We got our tickets at the Fandango kiosk thingie ($10, a dollar more than usual) and partook of some food court dinner. The clientele around the mall was a bit different than normal. Lots of pale guys and girls. Some glasses. Guys in jorts. Multiple packs of three awkward looking people rolling together. Cutesie purses. Silly Crocs. The wife and I exchanged glances, we communicated with our eyes what we couldn’t say aloud, we were in the midst of serious dorkdom. She went to the theater to scope out seats and said “it sounds packed in there.”

I thought this was kind of odd. Considering my previous mention of the paucity of culture in Hagerstown I did not expect a theater full of Japanimaniacs. But sure enough as we strolled into the theater, there was hardly a seat to be found. The Nerd Tsunami washed up in Hagerstown for a two night only screening of a Japanese movie based on a Manga (which is Japanese for comic, as far as I know).

Before I talk about the movie, let me clarify some points. Anyone who knows me knows my love of Asian cuisine. They have probably watched an Asian movie with me at some point, and not just a karate movie. But I draw the line at anime, and the odd Japan obsession that seems to come along with a love for anime. I dabbled in the big eyed cartoon arts at one point, probably because it featured dirty cartoon fucking and I thought that was kind of cool. Not that tentacle raping hentai anime, just regular Japanese cartoon people fucking. But I quickly got out of it, probably when I realized that watching cartoon people fucking is kind of creepy. The whole thing just wasn’t my thing, and I let it at that.

Then I went to work with some anime zealots at the Nerd Factory (game testing and tech support company) while I was in college. I learned a lot about anime and Japanese culture from these Japanophiles, and I liked it even less. I loved how I could say “you know, those are just cartoons,” and get sweet and innocent looking girls to call me motherfucker as if I called their mothers whores. You know the best part about zealots, don’t you? Fucking with them.

In the years since I left there, and my subsequent job with the douchebag that rocked a fanny pack and brought his Magic the Gathering cards with him to work, I haven’t had regular contact with Japan addicts, and it allowed me to appreciate their culture a lot more. Who can’t get behind the people that invented such wonderful things as Nintendo, Playstation, katana swords, sushi, Wii, and Yan Yan snacks? I even dabbled a little bit in Japanese cinema, and found my forays to be quite rewarding, if not disturbing (I’m looking at you, Audition).  But as much as I may be into different things, I define my tastes, I don’t let my tastes define me. That’s why I never saw fit to rock a Hello Kitty lunchbox, dress up like the dudes in Dragonball Z, or wack it to Japanese porno. Okay, two out of three isn’t bad,

With all this in mind we made the leap into the theater. I expected a mostly empty auditorium with a few scattered nerds here and there. What I didn’t bargain for was falling into a grand Japan nerd happening. The movie was interrupted with cheers and hoots and even random yellings of things (such as the pack of girls that yelled “POCKY!” when they saw the delicious snack food on the shelf in a convenience store). No, Dorothy, we were not in Kansas anymore.

So now that I’ve let that out, let me get to the movie. Death Note is a movie based on a manga of the same name in which a law student named Light (played by some Japanese guy with funny hair that is apparently gay, according to a shouting audience member at one point of the movie) becomes disaffected with the state of the legal system that he reveres and is studying so hard to become a part of. After witnessing a particularly unrepentant gangster brag about how he wouldn’t ever be punished, Light storms out of a bar, tosses his law text and finds a peculiar notebook that says “Death Note” on it in the middle of the street. He snatches the book and takes it home to investigate it. Written in plain English (and thank God for that) are the instructions on how to use the book. Whoever’s name you write in the book while picturing their face (so that in my case some other poor schmuck named Matthew Lillard doesn’t get killed) will die within forty seconds of a heart attack. While watching the news and hearing about a particularly nasty criminal, Light decides to give the book a whirl and, lo and behold, it works, kicking off an unprecedented cleansing of criminality around the world. If the system cannot bring them to justice, Light will.

Not too long after he starts taking names, and therefore kicking ass, an apparition named Ryuk approaches him about the Death Note book. Ryuk is a spirit that determines who dies, kind of like a Japanese Grim Reaper, but with a cool name that I’m sure one of my audience mates would be glad to tell me after making me feel dumb for not knowing it (it’s a shinigami, I decided to do some “research”). The two form a strange partnership in which Light gives Ryuk apples in exchange for Ryuk looking creepy and occasionally giving him tips. Oh yeah, Ryuk is CGI, and fucking scary looking. Imagine if Pennywise the clown from Stephen King’s It fucked Jack Nicholson’s Joker from Batman and had a baby that could fly. Yeah, that’s about right. It’s a miracle I fell asleep last night. And you can’t see him unless you’ve touched the Death Note, which may play an important part at some point in the film. Just throwing it out there. 

As the criminal body count goes up crime goes down, but the cops are not happy. It seems as though they quickly figure out that all of these criminals dying of heart attacks is not some great coincidence. It must be the work of someone, who they dub Kira. They don’t know how they’re doing it, since these criminals are all over the world, but it must be someone. So they call in the greatest detective of all time, L, who we don’t see or hear other than a weird distorted voice and a big L on a laptop. Yeah, pretty weird.

The movie quickly turns into a battle of wits between Kira and L, who always seem to be one step ahead of each other. L analyzes the pattern of killings and determines that it must be a student, so Light figures out how to manipulate the book to determine when the victims will die to prearrange his killings ahead of time to break his own pattern.  Then he sees that he can do more than just kill people with heart attacks by being brilliant enough to read the instructions. When he figures out he’s being followed, he finds a way to not only find out who is following him, but everyone else working on the case and kills them all.

The task force finally hooks up with L in person, who’s a punk kid like Light that has a really weird affinity for junk food. Thanks to all of the FBI people on the Kira case being killed, he narrows it down to either someone on the Kira Task Force or one of their relatives, and that’s when Light comes under suspicion. See, Light’s dad is the head of the task force. And oh yeah, Light’s dad is the fucking Chairman from Iron Chef. No shit, the dude that chomps the big yellow pepper at the beginning of o.g. Iron Chef. I guess things have cooled off at Kitchen Stadium, so he’s found time to act. Good for him.

The cat and mouse game continues through the end up to the gripping cliffhanger ending, which apparently sets the stage for part two which has already been made (Death Note is a 2006 movie) and they may have even showed it afterwards, but it was too much nerdery for us, so we rolled out at the credits.

The movie poses a great moral question: who’s worse, the criminal, or the person that kills them? You could look at it as an indictment on the criminal justice system, the death penalty, or even on vigilante justice. But I ask you this, without vigilante justice, there would be no Death Wish, or Tango & Cash, or just about any other great movie ever made, so what’s the beef with vigilante justice? I’m sorry I even posited that question, vigilante justice. I love you.

Where was I? Yeah, the movie was pretty good. There were parts where everyone was laughing and the wife and I just looked at each other thinking “I don’t get it,” so it must have been explained in Manga Nerd issue 703, but the story is a good one. From reviews I’ve read they say the mannerisms of the characters are spot on with the manga, so I’ll take their word for that. The whole Kira vs. L thing was very interesting. I liken it to two supercomputers playing chess against each other, each one thinking infinite moves ahead of each action they take. I imagine everything unfurls rather neatly in the second half.

I definitely recommend this movie, but you probably want to rent it at home. Go down to the Asian market, get yourself some consommé flavored potato chips and some Pocky, and Jap yourself to pieces. I’ll be looking forward to part 2, wherever it may be. Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.

I drift my stolen taxicab around the corner and accelerate down Broadway. I can see the lights and scrolling marquees of Times Square approaching in a blur. At somewhere near top speed I form a third lane through traffic waiting for the light to change without hitting a car. A pedestrian that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time gets bent by the force of 3000 pounds of American steel honed into a narrow blunt edge, backed by 200+ horsepower, then rolls up over the windshield behind me. The car hood pops up and all I can see is the bright golden yellow of the paint job with a big streak of blood. I don’t let up on the throttle. Car horns honk, people yell. I hit some things that I’m not sure what they are. Finally the hood flies away and I’m back off down the street, on my way to shoot some wiseguys off of a crane with a sniper rifle and lob grenades at union shop flunkies refusing to work, all for a couple bucks. And I’m thinking to myself “Fuck, I’ve missed playing Grand Theft Auto.”

Grand Theft Auto IV is the latest offering from Rockstar Games, and continues with the grand tradition of a massive world for you to live out your Id’s wildest fantasies, namely random murder and car theft, with a little erotic debauchery thrown in to boot. No, the game franchise has not grown much spiritually, but it has grown in many other ways.

Grand Theft Auto IV is a bit of a misnomer, since this is actually the sixth standalone game that falls under the Grand Theft Auto banner (I don’t count stuff like Vice City Stories, though maybe I should. But I’ve never played it and don’t know anyone who has, so that shit doesn’t count.). In this installment you play Niko Bellic, an eastern European immigrant who’s come to America to make a new life yourself through the encouragement of your cousin Roman. Little is known about Niko at the beginning, but as the game progresses his story unfolds and you find that the life he left behind in the Balkans is a lot like the life you’re leading him through in the States. He’s a gun for hire and seems to have no qualms killing your boss or your daughter’s girlfriend or whomever for some dough.

Fans of the Grand Theft Auto series will find that the controls are pretty much the same as they’ve been from the beginning, although it does feature optional usage of the PS3’s Sixaxis controls, which I’ve never used, so fuck it. You’ll also notice that the graphics are pretty much the same, at least from what I can tell on the PS3 version. There are some richer textures here and there, but it’s not a huge graphical leap forward. Then again, if you’re expecting that, you may want to get into another series of games. GTA gives you more of what you love about GTA: depth, crazy depth. Liberty City (that is, New York City, for all intents and purposes) is massive, full of sharp looking buildings and familiar landmarks (one particularly cool shot was in the previously mentioned sniper mission where the Statue of Liberty stands in the background as you’re holding your sniper rifle. Someone join me in a chorus of America, the Beautiful. No? Then fuck you anyway.). GTA IV lets you blast your way through all five boroughs with all of the familiar bodegas and businesses (there are even bootleg Duane Reade drugstores).

There are many new features that help improve gameplay a lot. My favorite new feature is the GPS system. Whenever you’re on a mission the vehicle’s GPS will automatically give you the best route to where you’re going. No more fumbling through neighborhoods to find that contact anymore, just follow the yellow line. You can even set your own waypoint on the GPS to find the quickest route to food (to refill your life meter), your girlfriend, or the strip club.

There is also a PDA type of feature managed by your cellphone. The phone manages your contacts and allows you to call them for jobs or to just hang out. Becoming better friends with people will unlock special functions such as free cab service from your cousin or delivered to you (sort of) guns and ammo service from your Rasta friend Little Jacob. This is also where you enter your cheat codes, though I’m trying to play it legit for as long as possible.

I can’t really say that I’ve found any negatives, yet. The game felt a little slow to me at first. I really only got into it once I started putting caps in the asses of punks around town. While I am an apologist for the lack of graphical innovation, I am a little disappointed that they aren’t at least a little better on a next generation console. I frequently have a hard time reading text messages and other things on my phone, though that could just as easily be because I have a bitch tv and not a sweet new plasma or something. I would also like to see more and varied save points, though I’m sure that will come with more time and the auto-save pretty much saves the game when you need to. It just sucks to have to drive for five minutes or so just to save the game to turn it off. Finally, I’m not as into this story as I was the San Andreas or Vice City stories. I think Rockstar has purposely doled out info on the Niko character slowly so you’re not totally sympathetic to his situation from the beginning, which is why I’m having a harder time connecting, I think. Thematically it’s a cool idea, and it prompts me to play more so I can find out more about this dude, so all in all it’s not such a bad thing. It does seem to have a more “big picture” feel to it, as opposed to San Andreas, where you started off with a good story, then branched off on a number of subplots which didn’t feel like they had anything to do with the whole purpose of the game (in particular, the fiery Latina girlfriend. She sucked.).

If you’re wondering whether you will like this game you should ask yourself “did I like the older Grand Theft Auto games?” If your answer is yes, then you should like this game. It builds on all of the prior games strengths and fixes some of the weaknesses. If your answer is no, it’s not going to win you over and make you a GTA believer. But I can say that the more I play it the more I want to play it, and I can’t wait to see what happens next and what new kinds of stuff I can get Niko into. GTA games provide a total gaming experience, from shooting to driving to Sims like relationship management. They’re the perfect kind of games for people who can’t decide what kind of games they want to play, and this one is the finest of the bunch as of yet.

And even if it loses it’s luster after another couple of weeks, I can always pop it in and go on a kill crazy rampage if I have a rough day at work. Beats paying for therapy.

The married man often has to make sacrifices. Some might say this is the principal difference between being single and being married. You have to shop for shit you don’t care about when you’d rather be doing anything else from time to time. Sometimes you can’t listen to totally great music because “that guy is screaming” and get treated to the mewling tones of the Dixie Chicks. And, most frequently, you get stuck watching a movie you know you’re not going to like all that much because she wants to see it. Sure, there’s a movie by a great writer and director out in the theater now but you can’t see it because it’s about mixed martial arts, but hey, here’s this movie about pregnant chicks!

I’ve been a rock over the years in our relationship. I refuse to watch chick flicks, or things that set my Utero-Sense into the warning zone reserved by movies that are definitely chick flick-ish. It’s worked out well thus far. I’ve dodged many chick flick bullets, and am a much happier man for it. But I got drug into this one, but not exactly kicking and screaming, because of Tina Fey.

Ah yes, Tina Fey. What red-blooded American male can’t get into some Tina Fey? She’s easily one of the sexiest females in show business. She’s not classically beautiful, but she’s very fetching. She rocks the glasses, which for most people I know brings out that whole “I want you to read to me… naked” vibe. And she’s devilishly funny, being responsible for Mean Girls, a surprisingly funny movie that gave us the last time Lindsay Lohan was genuinely hot, as well as creating 30 Rock, one of the most refreshingly funny and original shows on television today. I can’t say that I’m a Fey fan from way back. She was anchoring SNL’s Weekend Update during my “I’d rather rip bong hits and go out drinking” phase. And on the nights that I did opt to watch it, she was on the other side of the desk from Jimmy Fallon, a no-talent knobgoblin that would rather chuckle at himself than, you know, act. But the taste of Fey has been acquired, and is longing to be sated. Fortunately enough for any man suckered into going to see Baby Mama, Fey and her cleavage (yeah, she’s got cleavage!) provide enough to keep us pushing through what is pretty much a tired and predictable movie.

Fey plays driven career woman Kate Holbrook. Kate is in her late 30’s, married to her career, and has got baby fever. Attempts at artificial insemination (where did that ever go? Sperm banks are comedy gold!) fall fruitless, and her OB/GYN informs her that her uterus is T-shaped and there’s a million to one shot that the seed will ever be planted. See what’s happening there? This movie features prominent usage of the word uterus and visits to an OB/GYN. There’s even stirrups! Better bring some General Foods International Coffee!

Looking for an alternative, Kate turns to Chafee Bicknell, a facilitator for linking up barren would-be parents with uteri for hire. (The Chafee Bicknell subplot is kind of humorous, featuring an obviously older Sigourney Weaver that is pregnant and having kids. Ew.) The womb in waiting? White trash wildflower Angie Ostrowiski, played by Amy Poehler, who was coerced into subletting her baby box by her idiot white trash boyfriend.

When Angie and her boyfriend split, Kate asks her to move in with her to help her with the pregnancy. The unlikely pair find common ground and become buddies, before a terrible secret threatens to tear their relationship apart. Will this odd couple remain friends when all is said and done? You’re just going to have to watch to find out! Or think about it for a minute or two (give or take a minute or two) and you can probably figure it out.

The performances on the whole were pretty good. Fey was pretty swell. The cameos and lesser stars help make things interesting, first and foremost Steve Martin, who plays Kate’s eccentric hippie boss. The secret of his success? Have a big penis. As any of us successful men can tell you, this is the truth. There’s also the black guy from 40 Year Old Virgin as Kate’s door man, who plays the movie’s Jiminy Cricket with a little ghetto slang. Siobahn Fallon, who used to be the annoying red-haired chick on Saturday Night Live (any relation to Jimmy? Did I care enough to look it up? No!), is kind of lame as the birthing coach with a speech impediment. She does help provide a funny running joke about rubbing olive oil on the taint to prevent tearing which I found pretty funny, mainly because they used the word taint. That word just makes me laugh whenever I hear it or think about it. Taint. Tee hee.

All in all I’d say it wasn’t a bad movie. I sure didn’t hate it, but I definitely wouldn’t say that I loved it. I kind of knew this was going to be a chick flick going into it, and I was correct. That being said, the ladies will probably enjoy this movie a lot more than the guys. And, if you’re a Fey-Phile, you’ll probably enjoy watching this movie, too. Spoiler alert, Tina Fey has pretty sweet legs, too! The whole movie just seemed a bit broad (no pun intended) for the main person behind 30 Rock. There are many layers and subplots for you to get into, but they’re all rather predictable and/or stale. Career woman wants baby, career woman finds love, woman deals with crazy mother, two polar opposites find common ground and become BFF… It’s all been done before. Perhaps with a little more nuance and quirk (two things Fey has mastered in her body of work) this could’ve become a very good movie as opposed to merely an alright movie. But, then again, nuance and quirk don’t really make for box office boffo, and that Audi won’t pay for itself!

In summation, Tina Fey, her cleavage, and her legs. How much is it worth to you? Is it worth nine bucks and sitting through a chick flick? That’s for you to decide, but knowing what I know now I probably would have waited for it to come out on video. But I also would be firing up the Google Image Search for “fey, rack.”

The summer blockbuster season is finally upon us, and I could really care less. I can’t remember the last “summer blockbuster” that I went to the theater and enjoyed. While I did develop an odd love for Transformers, a big beautiful pile of stinking garbage, I didn’t watch it at the movies. I can’t even remember any other big deal movies that came out in summer. The first Spiderman was aight. I’m a big fan of Men In Black (Heyyyy, girlfriend!). But for the most part I just find your average run of the mill summer blockbuster a pointless exercise in how to entertain sheep.

That being said, I was fucking pumped to see Iron Man. As much as the superhero genre has burned us in the past, there has also been a smattering of good superhero movies (well, Batman Begins was bad ass, anyway). What would Hollywood do with Iron Man, a pretty cool, though not really first tier (Superman, Spider Man, Batman), superhero? Robert Downey, Jr., you say? Do go on. Mikey from Swingers directing? You had me at Downey…

The buzz for Iron Man reached deafening levels in the weeks up to the film’s release. At that point I had seen something like four different trailers and scads of screenshots. I had officially gotten myself excited to see a summer blockbuster superhero movie with a recovering addict as the superhero lead.

And Iron Man didn’t disappoint.

The movie starts off with a bang, but don’t expect your usual, non-stop butt-whippery of other superhero genre films. Iron Man actually gets into who Tony Stark is. Not only why he creates the suit, which you’ll see is genius born from necessity, but his obsession with the suit, and most importantly, why he stays in the suit. Stark isn’t just some bozo with dreams of saving the girl and being somebody. He’s already one of the richest men in the world with all the toys and snatch anyone could ask for. He’s not the same guy he was fifteen minutes before at any point of the movie, which is a mean feat for any Hollywood movie these days, but especially so for a superhero movie.

The action scenes are pretty spectacular from the beginning scene in the wilds of Afghanistan to the climactic final battle. A big plus is that there really aren’t any of those stupid “no effing way” parts like in most big ticket movies (keeping in mind that this is a superhero movie based on the premise that this guy has a metal suit that he can fly in powered by technology that doesn’t exist). Nothing like that retarded scene in Live Free or Die Hard where Bruce Willis shoots the car up the toll plaza curb into the helicopter. That was fucking horseshit. The suit looks amazing, too. Even though you know it’s CGI it still looks fairly real.

I think Robert Downey Jr. did a fantastic job as Tony Stark. His natural puckishness really lent itself to Stark’s brash smartass persona. I’m glad for Downey, he’s a great actor that’s really starting to get some good roles again (loved Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, too). Hopefully this will help keep him on screens for some time to come. Gwyneth Paltrow did a capable job as Stark’s assistant Pepper Potts (oh yeah, good comic book name). And El Duderino was very memorable in his turn as the bald a-hole partner Obadiah Stane. I’d probably be an asshole if my name was Obadiah Stane, too.

All in all, I’d say you could do a whole heck of a lot worse with your movie-going bucks than Iron Man. It really kept me entertained the whole time and passed the “I really need to go to the bathroom, but I don’t want to miss anything” test. Jon Favreau did a good job of making it visually appealing and gave us some good vroom vroom time with fast cars and really awesome looking weapon shots and explosions. My only real complaint is that they saved Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” until the closing credits. Come on, wouldn’t it have been bad ass to have him do his thing to some “Iron Man”? On second thought, it probably would’ve been cliché. Never mind. But if you haven’t seen it yet, go see that shit. You’ll have a good time, laugh a few times, and maybe even cheer a little bit. It’s no Larry the Cable Guy – Health Inspector, but what is, really?

Remember how I said I’d be writing more frequently? Well, I have been. But I haven’t been posting things. I guess because I’m a lazy bum, or a royal procrastinator, or an over-editor. Really any combination of the above works. So I’ve got some stuff to post. Print it up and head to the bathroom, because it’s time for a post purge!

I’m also thinking about disabling the comments because 1) no one uses them and 2) I get spam comments out the ying yang. But, if you’re looking for tramadol I’ve got 250 friends I’d like to introduce you to. Where do I get all of this drug stuff from? I haven’t really posted about drugs, have I?