Best of 2008 (Hey, everyone else is doing it!)

Remember when we were kids and we'd think of some far-flung year of thew new milennium and imagine all the Jetsons-esque technological wonders that were gonna transform our world into a utopia?

Well, here we are in the year two-thousand-and-freakin'-nine and not so much. Although, I must admit that I'm perpetually amazed that I carry around a phone the size of a deck of cards that also houses most of my CD collection. I also dig playing ROCK BAND with a pair of chicks who live three time zones away from me. C'mon, that's cool stuff.

It's been awhile. I planned on writing sooner but I got the insanely addictive LEFT 4 DEAD for Christmas and I've spent way too much time the past week trying to survive the zombie apocalypse and yelling fruitlessly at the impared teammates Xbox Live usually hooks me up with. I manage quite capably to fight off the hordes of the undead without setting myself and my partners on fire; Is it too much to ask that others mind where they're chucking that Molly?

Anyhow, I thought I'd jump back in by taking my turn at proclaiming my favorite crap from last year. I'm not big on trying to establish a pecking order, so I'm just calling a handful of favorites and am gonna try to limit myself to five of each for the sake of brevity.

MOVIES: IRON MAN; SUCH HAWKS, SUCH HOUNDS; THE DARK KNIGHT; THE WRECKING CREW; WALL-E; FROST/NIXON

Lemme just get it outta the way now and say that I have yet to see everyone's recent darlings, THE WRESTLER and SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE, so there's no need to ask why I'm not slobbering over them. And even if I had, I'd reserve the right to not include them on my list if so moved, so there. Should also be noted that 2k8 was the year I was introduced to the perverse beauty that is John Rad's DANGEROUS MEN, Diablo Cody hugged me, I met Frank Darabont, I finally saw THE LAST DRAGON on the big screen and I caught THE WARRIORS THREE FREAKIN' TIMES. Niiiice!

Should also, also be noted that I'd have to say my favorite cinematic moment of the year was seeing THE MOVIE ORGY. Consider myself very, very lucky to have been in the audience for that one.

ALBUMS: Consolers of the Lonely - The Raconteurs; Live At Roadburn - Earthless; Gods of the Earth - The Sword; Graveyard - Graveyard; The Darkness Won't Hide You - Night Horse; Float - Flogging Molly; Appeal To Reason - Rise Against; Stop, Drop and Roll!!! - Foxboro Hot Tubs

SONGS: "Carolina Drama" and "Many Shades of Black" - The Raconteurs, "Fire Lances of the Ancient Hyperzephyrians" - The Sword, "Wild International" - One Day As A Lion, "Re-Education (Through Labor)" - Rise Against

VIDEO GAME: ROCK BAND 2 (But LEFT 4 DEAD really is all kinds of awesome)

I should also mention that it was a really, really good year for concerts: Earthless (Three freakin' times!), The Sword (Also, twice), Graveyard (Twice), Night Horse (Three times; Woulda been 4 but I was sick and missed their record-release party), Nebula/Totimoshi/Chingalera @ The Viper Room, The Racounteurs (Big, huge thanks to Cat) and the newly-reformed STP (Twice. Thanks, Kish. Still can't believe you didn't go!)

Two thousand and eight will also go down as the year I discovered Garage Pizza on Sunset Blvd. in Silverlake. Seriously, it's worth going out of your way for.

Pics of the New Year's Eve STP show will come soon. As will a bunch of photos off of the old camera that was replaced by a new, buffer one for Christmas. In fact, we'll be featuring more pics and fewer words around here from now on. It'll leave me more zombie-killing time.

Dubb-ya

After literally spending all-night at the New Bev watching a slew of, uh, let's be diplomatic and call them "interesting" horror films (Stay tuned for that story), I did the only rational thing a human being would do on Sunday and (Following a power nap) saw another scary movie, W.

Very interesting film, this one, focusing much more on the man himself and everything that shaped him than most of the events that will define his presidency. Oddly enough, though, the man is largely defined by the influence that several people in the background wield over him.

The first act deals with his younger years that are defined by alcoholism, several failed careers and the constant disappointment of his family, who very clearly favor Jeb Bush. The second is his redemption as he marries Laura Bush, gets sober, finds Christ, becomes governor of Texas much against his family's wishes and without their support and, ultimately, ascends to the presidency in what he believes is his divine calling. This leads to a third act that isn't his presidency but merely the Iraqi invasion, and I was really surprised at how sympathetic Oliver Stone seems to be toward Bush. Stone very clearly places the blame for the fiascos the world has suffered the last eight years largely on the same three shoulders most of us do:

Donald Rumsfeld: A loose cannon who seizes control of the Iraqi invasion in its infancy.

Dick Chaney: The quiet manipulator who understands how to finesse the headstrong, stubborn president as well as take advantage of his inattention to detail.

Karl Rove: Always lurking in the shadows. You can't always see him but you know he's there. He's a puppeteer who settles for pulling Bush's strings from behind the curtain because he doesn't have what it takes to stand behind the podium himself.

Ultimately, though, the film places a lot of blame on George senior, who is cold, distant and seemingly offers his son nothing but constant reminders of what a disappointment he is as the younger George blunders his way through the first half of his life. The film subltly argues that George Jr's heart is in the right place, but the misguidance of the Rumsfeld/Chaney/Rove triumverate as well as his burning desire to separate himself from his father and clearly define his own presidency leads to the foolish desicion to invade Baghdad.

So much has been written over the last few years about Bush's presidency that the film confidently chronicles the Iraqi blunders without any undue malice. Most of my disappointment over the past few years has fallen on Colin Powell, and this movie cements it. The film doesn't presuppose Chaney and Rumsfeld's motivation, but it doesn't take much conspiracy theory to assume why men who made fortunes in the war and oil businesses would want to go to war over oil. Powell was the one guy in the room who knew better; The voice of reason who tried to cut through the cabinet's hubris by telling them in no uncertain terms that not only is the invasion wrong it isn't going to be nearly as easy as they think it will be. I cringed and shuffled in my seat as I watched his futile battle with the Chaney/Rumsfeld two-headed beast for the president's influence, and my heart breaks as the film later shows Powell stand before the United Nations and effectively sell an invasion that he doesn't believe in.

The other very interesting figures are his enablers: Laura Bush and Condeleeza Rice. The first-lady crosses him once and learns never to do it again. Though he isn't abusive, she learns his fiery temper is just best to be avoided. Rice never offers anything but affirmation to the president. She doesn't cross Chaney or Rumsfeld, she doesn't back Powell and she never expresses even a hint of disatisfaction or anything resembling an opposing viewpoint. What other type of wife/secretary of state could've survived with such a bullish figure? Maybe we should ask the one who resigned shortly after his appearance before the U.N.

I've spoken a lot about the film's message and very little about its nuts and bolts. W. is very effective, and the peformances are strong. (Particularly Josh Brolin as W. and a frighteningly balls-on portrayal of Cheney by Richard Dreyfuss.) But the film geek in me couldn't help but take a back seat to the pissed-off American who's disgusted at the mess his country has created.

Wisdom from the mouth of Savage Steve Holland

As Election Day draws nearer and I get more and more concerned about who this dumbass country of our might elect (Sorry, I just don't trust polls), things are indeed gonna get a little political on my little corner of the blogosphere, so deal.

As McCain gets increasingly desperate, he's shfting the talk away from trivial things like facts and the issues and his new gameplan is to convince us all that we shouldn't like a terrorist lover like Obama, who no doubt seeks the White House so he can destroy this country he hates so much from the inside.

I find it very funny that he sends his attack bunny Palin to do the serious smear work, which I suppose is the role of a VP candidate. But hearing this hateful, cheap rhetoric come from a brainless bit of crumpet like her reminds me of one of my favorite childhood films, ONE CRAZY SUMMER.

The animated segements that served as a Greek chorus for the wackiness featured a gang of "cute and fuzzy bunnies" who terrorized our hero's animated counterpart. Their sweet outward appearance disguised their evil, hateful nature.



Seem familiar?

GET'IM A BODY BAAAAG!

A few facts you may not know about the driving force behind the single greatest cinematic montage...EVER!

Labor Day, You Jive Suckah

I continue to be impressed and enamored with The CineFamily's set-up at the Silent Movie Theatre. As if the lure of seeing long-forgotten and extremely rare gems as well as amazing music documentaries from the comfort of a plush couch wasn't enough, bossman Hadrian is prone to moments of demented genius like the insane Five-Minute Game the theatre hosted on Labor Day.

Get your mind out of the gutter for a moment. The five-minute game isn't what you played in junior high when you were locked in a closet at a party with a member of the opposite sex (hopefully) while someone stood outside the door with a stopwatch. This is something Hadrian said was born during his video store days as a game for geeks by geeks.

Occasionally after the store closed, the employees would scramble to all corners of the building to unearth the most obscure title they could find. The kind of thing that never, ever, ever got rented. Hadrian said it was key to look for layers of dust on top of the video box or seriously faded color on the box art done by years of sun damage.

The geeks would then scramble back to the VCR where everyone would watch exactly five minutes of each title, the rationale being that every movie is good for at least the first five minutes. Everyone would vote on which they wanted to watch in its entirety, and the winning film would roll.

Brilliant, right?

The game was preceded by one of the semi-regular CineFamily cookouts, which is yet another stroke of genius. If you haven't read any of my earlier blogs about the Silent Movie Theatre, they have a swanky back patio with a barbecue which occasionally is opened up for a BYOM throwdown. Pimpadelic Wonderland, the house disc/video jockey and Hadrian's co-conspirator, spins tunes while the geeks try not to burn themselves and chow down on some grub and several cans of Tecate, which always seem to be in abundance at the theatre.

Fellow New Beverly regular Michael and I grilled for a bit before the preceeding, my veggie-dogs sharing real estate on the jam-packed barbecue with his swanky chicken-apple sausages. Chewing became a luxury we couldn't afford as Hadrian summonsed the geeks into the theatre shortly after cooking was completed.

Ballots were waiting on the seats, and though I was sure I'd have heard of at least a couple of the 15 titles, none of them rang even a tiny bell. Hadrian and one of the video-store geeks who helped create the game explained its genesis and the rules before the parade of cinematic abominations began.

And an interesting mix it was, indeed. TOOMORROW (That's not a typo), a lightweight Olivia Newton-John disco sci-fi thing, kicked things off and seriously worried me. I make no secret of my severe hatred of all things disco, especially when disco and cinema are joined in an unholy union. All we needed was a couple people like New Bevver/disco-musical lover Jen in the crowd and I'd spend 90 minutes in Hell.

My fears were doubled a little later when a disco horror film, NOCTURNA, also reared its ugly head. (Damn thing even had the balls to promise appearances by one-hit wonders Gloria Gaynor and Vicki Sue Robinson in the opening credits.)

Most of the films were terrible, and not in a potentially entertaining way. I gathered few of them had a chance, so I only remained fearful of being stuck with one of the disco films. SECOND SIGHT, an utterly forgettable late-'80s piece of cable fodder comedy with Bronson Pinchot playing a psychic detective and John Larroquette playing...Uh, Hell if I remember...was the only one I had ever seen before let alone heard of, as it turned out.

There were only two I really wanted to see, the first being Z.P.G. (Stands for Zero Population Growth) which looked like a laughable bit of socially conscious '70s sci-fi in which world leaders on a smoggy, insanely overpopulated Earth try to fend off the apocalypse by banning reproduction for a generation. We caught a glimpse of a youngish Oliver Reed during the film's five minutes, and I imagine he kicked the crap out of his agent once filming wrapped.

Z.P.G. had potential, but my clear-cut choice was DEATH PROMISE, which I fell head-over-heels in love with from the moment it opened with an aerial view of a pair of dudes (One of which was a black dude rocking a physics-defying afro) jogging through Central Park in matching banana yellow track suits accompanied by a funky "Death Promise" theme song which sounded like something from the late Isaac Hayes, only much, much worse.

An unintentionally hilarious voiceover explains that landlords will often go to extreme measures to drive tenants out of rent-controlled buildings in order to replace them with residents who will have to pay a higher rate. When this happens, the victims are only left with one choice...

...to FIGHT!

The non-afro sporting jogger then thwarts an attack by a couple of landlord-sponsored goons on an elderly neighboy by using some of the clumsiest martial arts ever captured on celluloid before DEATH PROMISE's five minutes were up.

It was EPIC!

We adjourned to the patio for more grilling while the votes were tallied. DEATH PROMISE was getting a lot of buzz around the barbecue and did receive a rocking ovation, so I liked its chances. Micheal and fellow New Bevver/frequent partner-in-crime Cat also voted for DEATH PROMISE, but a few of Michael's friends weren't loving the kung-fu exploitation, which concerned me. Hadrian called us all back in, and by now I wanted to see DEATH PROMISE so badly that I was gonna be a little more than annoyed if it didn't win.

In third place was SECOND SIGHT. I guess there's something to be said for Gen-X nostalgia and the fact that its five minutes included three recognizable actors. That said, it would've made for an extremely boring and anti-climactic night, so I suppose it recieved a few tallies from the casual films fans milling about but didn't get much of the hardcore geek vote.

Hadrian said Z.P.G. came in second by a mere vote. Again, it looked like a great source of unintentional comedy, but it just didn't grab me the way one of the films did. Things looked really good at this point.

And the winner...



DEATH-freakin'-PROMISE! And it was all I hoped it would be.

The hero (If you can call him that) and his afro-ed partner take a stand against a landlord who has joined in an axis of evil with several others to drive out their tenants so they can raze the buildings and sell to a developer. The axis included a stereotypical late-'70s Italian, a stereotypical late-'70s Jew and a stereotypical late-'70s African-American pimp/pusher. A little something to offend everyone.

The clothing and music were atrocious, the acting and dialogue was even worse, and the martial arts scenes were done s...o s...l...o...w...l...y that you wondered if the cast was trained at the same YMCA in Newark that taught Daniel Larusso. It did, however, have an attempt at a twist ending, so I'll give the writer props for the effort.

Just awesome!

Based on the huge turnout, Hadrian promised to do this kinda thing again. Can't wait, but DEATH PROMISE is going to be a tough, tough act to follow.

Clu Gulager Is My Homeboy

As the New-Bev faithful and I filed out of the theatre following the final night of Clu Gulager's film fest, we all agreed on one thing: Four nights barely scratches the surface of this actor's monumental resume.


The second batch of Clu's films were much more serious and subdued compared to the wacky double shot of horror films that kicked things off. The night began with THE LAST PICTURE SHOW, which, as I learned that night, really needs to be seen at the cinema to fully be appreciated.

It had been many years since I had seen this early-'70s epic, and, like many films I've revisited in recent years, I found a new appreciation for it. I'd chalk to it up to maturity, but we all know that couldn't possibly be the case with me.

Although the films ends with Cloris Leachman's scathing Academy-Award winning monologue, the soul of PICTURE SHOW is found in its quieter moments. The small Texas town that contains the lives of its characters is dying a slow death in 1951. Anarene is expiring with a whimper, not a bang, while the space age is booming elsewhere. The vast plains that surround it on all sides are slowly strangling it, and most everyone who lives there have tacitly accepted it with a shrug and are meandering on.

The big screen underlines the enormity of the emptiness that's suffocating Anarene. It's not quite the end of the world, but you can see it from there. The highways that serve as the only lifeline between civilzation and this small Texas town seem to stretch forever. Drive too far and you'll fall off the edge of the planet into oblivion, as ancient sailors feared.

I was really intruiged by Clu since it was, after all, his night. I'm sure it also had something to do with the fact that he's the only actor in the film that I hang out with.

The man I know now is something of a favorite great uncle. He's your grandparent's sibling who can both spin fascinating stories about his experiences and have you rolling with a well-timed off-color remark, often in the same sentence.

But he had an air of danger and mystery about him four decades ago. In PICTURE SHOW he plays a roughneck named Abilene. (His name or a handle given to him based on his hometown?) He says little and wears a perpetual poker face that leaves you a little uneasy about what could be simmering beneath the surface. We spend two hours watching Cybill Shepherd's Jacy effortlessly bend overmatched boys to her will before she briefly gets mixed up with Abilene and immediately learns that life isn't going to be as easy as she thinks it'll be.

Afterwards, Clu dished about working for the megalomaniacal Peter Bogdanovich, who the actor both praised for his skill and slammed for his overbearing directorial style. Clu said his pool-hall scene with Shepherd, who Bogdanovich had recently begun romancing despite their age gap, caused the director a lot of grief. The scene was cut from the theatrical print, added decades later in an extended cut, and Clu made no effort in hiding his anger over Bogdanovich's mistake.

The festival wrapped with 1964's THE KILLERS, which I had never seen before but was being highly lauded by my fellow New Bevvers. Clu and Lee Marvin play a pair of hit men who have a bit of a "bad cop-worse cop" routine to their partnership. I could clearly see these characters' fingerprints all over the subplot of a film that would be made three decades later.

Marvin's performance is pretty subdued. Clu is a wildman, whose antics elicit the same nervous laughter Joe Pesci gets in GoodFellas. The pair complement each other nicely, and I can easily say this is the best made-for-TV film I've ever seen.


Clu honored several of us on the final night of his festival with thanks and shoutouts. Once again, never would I have imagined during any of my countless THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD viewings that one day Clu Gulager would be thanking me by name for being his chum. It was an honor both because of my admiration of his work as an actor and my affection for him as a person.

Seems like it wouldn't be a night at the New Bev if it didn't end with a wacky photo, and the cake fellow freaks Rob and Jen brought served as the inspiration for this installment. Naturally, Clu was game for this freakshow wedding photo.



Four nights really isn't enough. Let's all keep our fingers crossed that Clu-Fest 2: Clu's Revenge happens soon.

CURRENTLY LISTENING: Silversun Pickups - Carnavas (Yes, still. They're that good and I was a little late in discovering this one.)

Send...more...paramedics

What a long, strange trip it's been -- "Truckin'" The Grateful Dead

Cliche, I know, but that lyric wouldn't stop bouncing around my head last weekend as venerable actor, New Beverly Cinema fixture and, I'm quite proud to say, my friend Clu Gulager hosted four nights of his films at the Beverly. He and I had a lot of history together long before I had the pleasure of actually meeting him, which served as a 25-year set up for his film fest.

I wasn't a huge horror fan growing up, but I had to learn how to become one quickly. The other kids in the neighborhood loved horror films. To have a dissenting opinion as child is to be a social outcast, so I, too, fell in line and learned to at least not hate horror. I've always liked films that were fun or exciting. Horror films were neither.


Standards were obviously a little different in the heady days of the mid-'80s. The films that were considered extreme at the time seem pretty tame after two decades of societal decay, but even then I was put off by most of the slasher films. The only horror films I dug were a little outta left field.

A maniac with a machette didn't do it for me. Freddy Krueger was badass. I could watch stuff about aliens, monsters or alien monsters. (There's an alien monster film that even qualifies as an out-and-out masterpiece.)

But hands down my favorite sub-genre was zombie flicks.



I first saw THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD in junior high and immediately fell in love with its demented genius. (And the west-coast punk soundtrack certainly helped.) The characters were strange and far different than the cookie cutter targets who only existed to meet a gruesome demise in other flicks. The movie's full of brilliant throwaway gags, like the eye chart that reads "Burt is a slavedriver and a cheap sonofabitch..." Freddy's varsity jacket is another favorite of mine. The back reads "F**k You" in the theatrical version. On TV it reads "Television Version." Brilliant.

I saw the film often over the years and it easily became my favorite horror film. But never during any of the viewings did I imagine I'd someday be sitting with the man playing Burt and listening to his war stories about making this celluloid abomination.


But I'm getting ahead of myself. The night began with a viewing and panel for FEAST. Turns out that Clu has an in with the director.

I first saw FEAST a few months ago in a red envelope viewing after a co-worker recommended it to me. I really liked it for a lot of the same reasons I've loved RETURN all these years: It's very smart, funny and self-aware without skimping on the horror. It's obvious neither film had much of a budget, but the directors of both manage to overcome that obvious constraint.

As with most films, FEAST was even better on the big screen. Judging from the big laughs in the appropriate places, many in the audience had never seen it before and, I'd imagine, walked away fans.


Resident genius Marc hosted the panel that followed, which included the Gulagers, actress (and Gulager by marriage) Diane Goldner, actor Duane Whitaker (Who's much, much cooler than the colossal pricks he plays in this film and another film you perhaps have seen) and a few crew members.



The younger Gulager dished about the challenges of making FEAST. Making a low-budget film is hard enough, he said, but making a film with everything being documented for television while two dozen producers are breathing down your neck is especially taxing. All involved described the shoot as exasperating, but added that the reshoots which were done minus the interference from Bravo and the producers, were quite fun.





The night wrapped with a screening of RETURN, which got the full panel treatment the night before but I was absent due to a slight case of work. I had never seen it at the cinema before, and one of the many reasons I love the Bev is that it allows me to see these films that served as the cornerstones of my childhood as intended. Home video is great, but there is simply no substitute for seeing a film on the big screen with an audience, especially one full of geeks who know proper (cult) movie etiquette.

It was nothing short of a thrill watching the film. Seeing it with Clu, who I've gotten to know pretty well after spending many hours standing in line with him over the past year, made it all the sweeter. It was kind of a culminating moment after a quarter-century of geeking over RETURN.

I thought it'd be a good idea to mark the occasion and continue the tradition we kicked off with Diablo Cody during her turn at the theatre's helm.

It goes without saying that Clu was more than happy to pose for a geek team photo.

A long, strange trip indeed.

CURRENTLY LISTENING: Silversun Pickups - Carnavas

Rainbow Brite: Savior of the Universe!

This one's taking us back a bit, but I'd be remiss if I didn't share with my adoring public an extremely rare screening of RAINBOW BRITE AND THE STAR STEALER.

Yeah, sluggo, you read that correctly.

New Bev Midnight guru Phil is indeed a strange one, and I don't think that's really a revelation to either Phil himself or anyone who has spent more than 45 seconds speaking to the guy. But the brilliance of his eccentricity is that he uses his access to the screen to unearth films that have long been decomposing on the bottom of history's waste bin.

Such was the case last month when he aired this 90-minute Hallmark ad. Sound strange that a greeting-card company would produce a film to move product? It shouldn't, considering Quaker Oats did the same thing about 40 years ago to shill candy and accidentally made one of the most brilliant films ever. And don't forget that most of us were raised on a steady diet of syndicated 30-minute toy commercials.

Actor David Mendenhall participated in the hi-jinks. I'm sure the dude enjoys a fairly anonymous existance these days despite his fairly beefy resume, but he was immediately recognizable to all of us children of the '80s who packed the Beverly that night.

He mentioned he had never seen RAINBOW BRITE on the big screen before, and warned that his sister is also did some work in the film which was a little strange considering in 1985 it was very hard to distinguish between their pre-pubescent voices. Nice guy, that David Mendenhall, and quite cool to press flesh with an actor I saw a lot of in my days as a young geek. Phil plans on screening my favorite piece of Mendenhall's work next month, so hopefully he'll roll out for that one as well.


As for the film itself, well...it is what it is. To call the animation poor would be giving it far too much credit. It was a slight step up from the old "Clutch Cargo" or Marvel Comics cartoons from the '60s that featured a small moving bit laid atop mostly static images. I can't even remember much of the story, except that a spoiled space princess wanted to add Rainbow Brite's power belt or gem or something like that to her wardrobe which was causing an extended winter and severe SAD down here on Earth.

Of course Ms. Brite prevails in time to shower the planet with sunshine and rainbows, though for the life of me I can't remember how. I fully realize I'm slagging the film, but, in fact, it was misaligned in a very entertaining way, and films like this are often an experience unto themselves. Yet another entry for the geek resume.

Besides, now when someone asks, "Have you ever seen RAINBOW BRITE & THE STAR STEALER?" I can proudly answer, "Yes sir/madam, I have!"

Could happen...

CURRENTLY LISTENING: Kyuss - Welcome to Sky Valley

Eastbound and Down...

Jerry Reed, co-star of one of my most beloved films and singer/songwriter of that film's iconic and insanely catchy theme song, died today at 71.

Keep it 10-10 on the side, Snowman.

The Devil Wears Pink

I've fallen way behind on writing about my misadventures, and don't really have much time to fix that today thanks to a slew of mundane tasks I have to attend to before I see ALIENS tonight and begin what's pretty much a solid week of work tomorrow. I'm slowly getting over a touch of laryngitis, so my coworkers will be thrilled to hear that I can't talk much.

Before too much time passed, I wanted to post the last few pics and memories of Mondo Diablo, which ended with "Chick Night": DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN and PRETTY IN PINK. I've always been ambivalent about SUSAN and hated PRETTY with a white-hot passion, and a repeat viewing of each has done nothing to change my opinions.



Nonetheless, I went for two reasons: to listen to '80s icon Jon Cryer's recollections of making the worst John Hughes film of the decade and to get one last picture of Diablo.



Cryer was quite cool, very funny and dished some great stories about filming PRETTY and, most importantly, why the film ended the way it did. Short version: Molly Ringwald wanted Robert Downey Jr. to play Duckie and never let anyone on set forget it. An ending was, in fact, originally filmed where Duckie and Andie wind up together, but Ringwald had it changed and reshoots were done.

When Diablo vented about her hatred of the ending before the films, Jason and I protested from the front row and reminded her that Kristy Swanson is quite an epic consolation prize. That pretty much fell on deaf ears, but we showered Kristy's cameo with passionate applause.

Diablo thanked everyone for coming, particularly the four of who occupied the front row for every one of her screenings. Inspiration struck, and I thought it'd be a great idea to sit her in the middle for a geek team photo, which required me to chase her down in the lobby after PINK wrapped and ask her to come back and sit through about five different pictures.

Fortunately, she is, in fact, the coolest chick on the planet and enthusiastically agreed to do it, calling us her MVP's. She sat and smiled as all four of us in the photo got it on our individual cameras, then stood, thanked us again and hugged us all(!).



There isn't one of us in the photo above who isn't in love with her. I even suspect pregnant, married Jen would switch teams.

Thanks again, Diablo. Here's hoping for a Mondo Diablo II someday.

Save me from myself...AGAIN

With the spectre of Wendy Wu still looming, I passed a billboard on Alameda pimping an ABC Family special called SAMURAI GIRL.

In case you were thrown off by the complicated title, here's the press release: For three days beginning September 5th, ABC Family will air SAMURAI GIRL, a miniseries based on a popular young adult book series by Carrie Asai. It stars Jamie Chung as Heaven, a 19-year-old girl who discovers that her adoptive father is a yakuza boss and may have killed her brother. She leaves to train in the ways of the samurai and plot to bring down her father’s criminal empire with the help of American friends.



Since it's pretty obvious I'm unable to resist family-friendly programming about cute Asian girls who bust heads, so I might as well give in and embrace the inevitable. I'll end up TiVo'ing every freakin' episode of this mini-series.

In my defense, Samurai Girl does look really hot rockin' that katana in the advertising.

Save me from myself...

This is officially a cry for help.

Today, while getting ready to get ready to leave the apartment (Makes sense if you think about it) I found myself watching something called WENDY WU: HOMECOMING WARRIOR. I'd explain the plot, but I think the title leaves precious little that needs explaining.

It was the title, in fact, that roped me in. Hell, it has the word "warrior" in it. This Wendy has got to be a kick-ass chick. Man, I love kick-ass chicks. That alone almost balanced out the fact that it airs on the Disney Channel.

I then noticed the extremely-cute-in-an-American-Eagle-billboard-kinda-way girl who plays the titular Homecoming Warrior.



I felt extremely filthy crushing on a Disney-Channel actress, but immediately did my homework and found that she's 20 years old, which downgrades the act from immoral and illegal to just inappropriate.

The real guilt lays in the fact that I had an out. I was leaving for the gym, and could very easily have turned the cable off and saved my soul from this stain it now must bare. Instead, I set the TiVo to record it, not wanting to miss a minute of the training montage that surely lay ahead. And there's nothing I love more than a training montage.

I haven't actually watched it yet, so hopefully sanity will prevail and I'll do the right thing by erasing that bewitching Wendy my video recorder and my life. I really don't need to know if she fulfills her destiny by becoming both a warrior and homecoming queen...

Or do I?

To cleanse my soul, I had to swing by Amoeba Records to pick up Dead Meadow's most recent disc and the newly released DOOMSDAY.

I need an intervention here. Help me before the sequel drops.

Eric's War Journal

THE DATE: JULY 23, 2008
THE PLACE: Hollywood
THE MISSION: See "Spaced" on the big screen and hear the wacky Brits behind one of the most brilliant shows ever talk about it.
How hard can it be?

0915: After a tidy three-hours of sleep following the second-to-last installment of Diablo's run at the New Bev, which itself followed a shift that was preceeded by ninety minutes of sleep, I wake up and attempt to cover up the fact that caffeine has been a substitute for good ol' fashioned American rest these past couple weeks. I plan on getting to the ArcLight when it opens in 45 minutes to find out when and where they'll allow the geeks to queue it up. Since the show is free and first-come, first-served, hordes will arrive and many will go home without knowing the joys of "Spaced."

1000: Recon officially begins. I wait for the rabble of viewers there to see THE DARK KNIGHT to get their tickets before I ask the concierge where they plan on lining up the geeks. She looks at me quizzically before excusing herself and returning with a manager.

I apologize for wasting the manager's time and pose her the same question. She looks at me just as quizzically as the first girl I spoke to. I then point to the large digital board that dominates the ArcLight lobby with the theatre's showtimes and point to, "SPECIAL - BBC DVD THEATRE 10."

She seems to be noticing this for the first time, so I then explain to her that her theatre will be hosting a free screening for a bunch of rabid geeks that will likely start pouring into the lobby in a couple hours. Damn if she knows where they're all going to go, however, so she apologizes for her lack of help and excuses herself.

I have a bad feeling about this...

1027: With nothing to do and nowhere in particular to do it, I take refuge at Swingers for eggs, vegetarian sausage and a fat stack of banana pancakes. I check with my secretary and find a message from Jason asking what's going on with the screening. I explain the theatre is clue-deficient, but assure him not to worry that I will handle recon and score us a great place in whatever line emerges in the next couple hours.

1122: I hit Amoeba Records to score the new EP from Zack De La Rocha's new band and The Sword's second album. I also find a Dead Meadow CD cheap in the used bin. Maybe my luck's turning.

I run into New Bev Midnight regulars Jackie and Eric and explain my screwball mission to them and bring them up to speed on its less-than-stellar start. They can't lie about my chances, but I have their sympathy.

1152: As I head over to Starbucks for more caffeine and to convert my new music into ones and zeroes on my laptop, I see a couple geeks -- a goth girl and a chick with bubble-gum pink hair -- standing alongside the cooking school that's across the plaza from the theatre. Could this be the genesis of the queue?

1200: I'm still really impressed with how good that new Sbux coffee is.

1309: Hot Topic and Bubble Gum have been joined by three other girls with geekish leanings. I confirm that this is, in fact, the queue and I and my crew will be 6th in line. Now it's time to sit and wait...

...a lot...

1319: I'm finished with my first listen of One Day as a Lion and it is BADASS! Kinda reminiscent of Evil Empire, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

1327: Silent Bob's long-lost twin brother loudly rolls in from the signing in Westwood that I passed up to ensure a good place in line. He announces to all of us that we missed something epic, which I'm sure we all appreciated hearing. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or my contempt of loudmouths (I don't like the competition), but I suddenly realize that there are a lot of manhole covers through which a dumpy guy who clearly doesn't have the time for personal hygiene could be thrown.

The line starts to build momentum over the next half-hour as my face is thoroughly melted by Gods of the Earth. The Sword owns! They are the lords of all they survey!

1415: A security guard emerges from the theatre and crosses the courtyard to ask me what the line's for.

Chew on that for a moment: A theatre employee is asking me why we're lined up at said theatre.

This thing is being run with military freakin' precision. The line's now pretty beefy.

1445: Jason; his new sidekick JD, who I've been seeing around the Bev a lot, and Cat, a friend of Jason's I've never met, arrive within minutes of each other.

Jason is stoked about our place in line. I'm stoked I can now use the men's room.

1524: Jason hits the Baja Fresh across the street for provisions. I normally loathe the place, but I'm so starved that the grilled vegetarian burrito is like heroin. I stop just short of gobbling the waxy paper it's wrapped in.



1639: As Jay and JD run for coffee, a couple bouncer-esque guys roll the Batpod out of its trailer and a full-blown geek feeding frenzy ensues. People begin battling for position, as if the 750-pound bike is suddenly going to disintegrate before they can snap a picture of it.



I wait for the scent of blood to clear the water before I casually stroll up and get my cheesecake shots.



The line, by the way, has now hit critical mass as it runs the entire length of the plaza...



...winds down Sunset Blvd....



...and rounds the corner across the street from Amoeba.



With the large number of seats that I'm sure that are being saved for friends of the production, a lot of geeks are going home sad today.

1710: Phil comes over to hand out fliers that pimp his upcoming shows and stops to chat with us at the head of the line. I tell him how very, very happy I am that he's screening OVER THE TOP, and he gives me that look he usually gives me when I say something like that.

1758: "ERRRIC!" I stop to see who's shouting my name to find Nicole, another regular on the Geek Circuit, standing around with a gaggle of friends by the front door. I quickly put two and two together and realize that she's not lined up like the rest of us losers because she's being hooked up with seats. She confirms this, fueling a sudden bout of jealousy the likes of which fills my chest cavity with an intense heat.

She explains that her friend, Harmony I believe was her name, runs Simon Pegg's website.

I ask Nicole to tell Harmony I hate her.

1810: Shortly after regulars Rob and Jen join us, the line behind us begins to stir as Edgar Wright, Simon and Jessica Hynes roll in high-fiving the geeks as they pass. I can't get pics of the guys, but I snap a shot of Jess as she enthusiastically chats with a few girls who she recoginzed from the signing earlier that day.



1845: WE'RE IN!!!! The hours spent standing around doing absolutely nothing now pay off as we score the best seats in the house: Dead center in the front row of the second section. Soon the place is completely packed.



Caffeine is replaced by geek-flavored adrenaline as I realize how lucky my handful of cinephiles and I are to even be at something like this. I had the same feeling during THE MOVIE ORGY and Nicky Katt's Monday Mug Melter at the Silent Movie Theatre. I've seen some very, very cool things that many geeks would give their middle nut for this past year.

Speaking of THE MOVIE ORGY, Joe Dante rolls in. So does John Landis. Heather Graham takes a seat in the front row. Diablo shows up with Julia and a couple other faces I recognize from the New Bev.



Kevin Smith gets things started by announcing he's baked, which elicits a huge roar of approval from the crowd. Once again, I'm the straightest geek in the place. Should be used to it by now.

Smith introduces the cast who say a couple brief words then roll the episodes: "Art", "Epiphanies" and "Gone." I haven't seen the show since they aired a handful of eps on BBC America a few years ago to conicide with the release of the painfully brilliant SHAUN OF THE DEAD. the show is just as hilarious as I had remembered, and looks great on the big screen.





Kevin comes back to kick off the Q & A, and not a moment too soon since he looks as if he was about to drop any second. I guess the Industry types can afford the really good stuff.







The three are effortlessly funny, and their banter following the screening makes me long for some sort-of reunion. All three agree there is no way they could recreate the magic of the show at this point in their lives, nixing a proper "Spaced" reunion, but offer that they'd love to continue working together in some other capacity.

They say their goodbyes and retired to a private party in the bar on the ArcLight balcony. My geekdreanaline wearing off and with work looming on the horizon, I too retire.

After all, I need all the rest I could muster...



RICKY is almost here!