Weekend Update
Hey, hey everyone. I come bearing an interesting article about this weekends greatest movie, Snakes on a Plane. The entire article can be found here, but this is the part that made me cheer. There's even a plug for Joss Whedon in there!
was about how bloggers usually use their powers to take a stand against the man and mainstream bullshit, but for this movie they actually HELPED generate the hype behind it.
"And what does this have to do with Snakes on a Plane? Well, everything actually. Because were it not for the blogging world, Snakes would’ve been dumped unceremoniously into a crowded weekend box office, where it would’ve netted around $5 million before silently making way for a Dukes of Hazzard sequel. But Sam Jackson said he wanted “snakes on a motherfucking plane,” someone lost his job, and what’s left of the blogosphere’s rebellious attitude kicked into overdrive, resulting inexplicably in Snakes action figures. To be sure, I’ve got nothing against Internet hype, just so long as it’s warranted. After all, were it not for the tireless efforts of a few undersexed couch potatoes with a keyboard and a verbal hard-on, “The Office” and “Veronica Mars” would’ve long since been cancelled. And hell, Joss Whedon owes half his fortune to the blogging world, and that motherfucker deserves every penny of it.
But before today, no one had even seen SoaP, yet we’d already created a large enough juggernaut to force Clerks II to reschedule its release. All because Jules Winfield used a little profanity and Defamer, et al., shoved it so far up everyone’s ass that we could feel the snakes crawling out of the back of our throats. Indeed, by deftly crafting the PR behind Snakes as the anti-establishment flick of the year, New Line Cinema pulled off a feat no less manipulative than attaching a Coldplay song to the trailers for World Trade Center. Never mind the merits of Snakes on a Plane; good, bad, or mediocre, admit this: We got played by a subsidiary of Time Warner.
And, of course New Line didn’t screen Snakes on a Plane for critics. Why? Because it motherfucking sucks. That’s why. The CGI is subpar. The plot is paper thin. The dialogue is atrocious. And the acting is downright horrendous. Hell, David Koechner actually turns in a more embarrassing performance than he did in Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector. I mean, seriously: Kenan Thompson is in it, do I have to say more?
And yet … and yet despite it all …
I haven’t had this much fun watching a movie since Ash Williams stood with a shotgun in one hand and a chainsaw in the other, beckoning: “Gimme some sugar, baby.” I shit you not, folks, Snakes on a Plane is every bit of god-awful fantastic that the hype portends. And I say this not as a movie critic, but as an enthusiast of so-bad-it’s-good. I consider the Final Destination series one of my favorite trilogies of all time; The Skulls is a minor classic, and nary anything can compare to the joy that was Cool as Ice. But Snakes on a Plane beats them all, hands down, fists balled, and middle finger to the sky. It absolutely kills. The only way I could’ve found it more entertaining is if the snake venom turned the passengers into zombies, but I suppose you gotta leave something for the sequel(s). In fact, the only analogy that could possibly do SoaP justice is one of those ear-mangling Journey ballads that you know is shittacular and yet you can’t help but crank it to an unheard-of decibel level and belt your lungs out (“Don’t stop believin’”).
Truthfully, SoaP defies everything I ever believed about filmmakers who actually set out with the intention of making a good-bad flick; I didn’t think it could be done. And maybe without the attendant hype, it couldn’t have, because damn near half of Snakes success comes from the spectacle of 75 college kids ripped to the tits chanting “Snakes on a Plane” and tossing toy planes around the theater. Indeed, Snakes absolutely demands an audience. It’s a participatory event. And it may be the only time you can ever watch a film and not hate everyone in the theater for yelling throughout, because hell if you don’t find yourself treating the whole experience like a college basketball game, just waiting for Samuel Jackson to drain the Snakes on a Motherfucking Plane to win the game. I actually applauded. More than once. And I didn’t even shake my head in wonder when the audience gave it a standing ovation as the credits rolled. "
I think that sums up the movie pretty nicely. So bad it's good, so wrong it's right.
Although I think every single one of you there was tagged, here are the pictures from Snakes on a Boozefest.
My first weekend back at work was a bit odd, but before long it was just like old times. I still hate customers, but in my absence we got rid of two girls and it's made working there a lot nicer. Everyone gets along and we don't have to pick up the slack of lazy people.
Tomorrow Sammy and I are heading into the city to romp around and see a show. Which one you ask? WE DON'T KNOW! We're gonna figure it out on the train and then take our chances in the tkts line. We so crazy.
It's good to be home.
was about how bloggers usually use their powers to take a stand against the man and mainstream bullshit, but for this movie they actually HELPED generate the hype behind it.
"And what does this have to do with Snakes on a Plane? Well, everything actually. Because were it not for the blogging world, Snakes would’ve been dumped unceremoniously into a crowded weekend box office, where it would’ve netted around $5 million before silently making way for a Dukes of Hazzard sequel. But Sam Jackson said he wanted “snakes on a motherfucking plane,” someone lost his job, and what’s left of the blogosphere’s rebellious attitude kicked into overdrive, resulting inexplicably in Snakes action figures. To be sure, I’ve got nothing against Internet hype, just so long as it’s warranted. After all, were it not for the tireless efforts of a few undersexed couch potatoes with a keyboard and a verbal hard-on, “The Office” and “Veronica Mars” would’ve long since been cancelled. And hell, Joss Whedon owes half his fortune to the blogging world, and that motherfucker deserves every penny of it.
But before today, no one had even seen SoaP, yet we’d already created a large enough juggernaut to force Clerks II to reschedule its release. All because Jules Winfield used a little profanity and Defamer, et al., shoved it so far up everyone’s ass that we could feel the snakes crawling out of the back of our throats. Indeed, by deftly crafting the PR behind Snakes as the anti-establishment flick of the year, New Line Cinema pulled off a feat no less manipulative than attaching a Coldplay song to the trailers for World Trade Center. Never mind the merits of Snakes on a Plane; good, bad, or mediocre, admit this: We got played by a subsidiary of Time Warner.
And, of course New Line didn’t screen Snakes on a Plane for critics. Why? Because it motherfucking sucks. That’s why. The CGI is subpar. The plot is paper thin. The dialogue is atrocious. And the acting is downright horrendous. Hell, David Koechner actually turns in a more embarrassing performance than he did in Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector. I mean, seriously: Kenan Thompson is in it, do I have to say more?
And yet … and yet despite it all …
I haven’t had this much fun watching a movie since Ash Williams stood with a shotgun in one hand and a chainsaw in the other, beckoning: “Gimme some sugar, baby.” I shit you not, folks, Snakes on a Plane is every bit of god-awful fantastic that the hype portends. And I say this not as a movie critic, but as an enthusiast of so-bad-it’s-good. I consider the Final Destination series one of my favorite trilogies of all time; The Skulls is a minor classic, and nary anything can compare to the joy that was Cool as Ice. But Snakes on a Plane beats them all, hands down, fists balled, and middle finger to the sky. It absolutely kills. The only way I could’ve found it more entertaining is if the snake venom turned the passengers into zombies, but I suppose you gotta leave something for the sequel(s). In fact, the only analogy that could possibly do SoaP justice is one of those ear-mangling Journey ballads that you know is shittacular and yet you can’t help but crank it to an unheard-of decibel level and belt your lungs out (“Don’t stop believin’”).
Truthfully, SoaP defies everything I ever believed about filmmakers who actually set out with the intention of making a good-bad flick; I didn’t think it could be done. And maybe without the attendant hype, it couldn’t have, because damn near half of Snakes success comes from the spectacle of 75 college kids ripped to the tits chanting “Snakes on a Plane” and tossing toy planes around the theater. Indeed, Snakes absolutely demands an audience. It’s a participatory event. And it may be the only time you can ever watch a film and not hate everyone in the theater for yelling throughout, because hell if you don’t find yourself treating the whole experience like a college basketball game, just waiting for Samuel Jackson to drain the Snakes on a Motherfucking Plane to win the game. I actually applauded. More than once. And I didn’t even shake my head in wonder when the audience gave it a standing ovation as the credits rolled. "
I think that sums up the movie pretty nicely. So bad it's good, so wrong it's right.
Although I think every single one of you there was tagged, here are the pictures from Snakes on a Boozefest.
My first weekend back at work was a bit odd, but before long it was just like old times. I still hate customers, but in my absence we got rid of two girls and it's made working there a lot nicer. Everyone gets along and we don't have to pick up the slack of lazy people.
Tomorrow Sammy and I are heading into the city to romp around and see a show. Which one you ask? WE DON'T KNOW! We're gonna figure it out on the train and then take our chances in the tkts line. We so crazy.
It's good to be home.