Archive for the 'Classically Shitty' Category
OK, you guys, I know exactly what you’re thinking. You saw the title of this post, and you immediately got upset. Perhaps a little butthurt. It’s fine if you did. Massage those ass cheeks, and you’ll feel better in no time. Before you scroll down to the comments section to leave me some typed diarrhea, just read this post with an open mind. I think you’ll discover that The Third Man is actually a giant piece of shit, and not the classic filmfags purport it to be.
This 1949 movie was directed by Carol Reed, a man with a woman’s name. It was written by British novelist Graham Greene (you’ve only heard of him because they read one of his books in Donnie Darko). It starred Joseph Cotton and Orson Welles. It also won a shitload of awards when it was released, and has perpetually been on many “Best of” film lists. You know, none of that impresses me. It’s easy to win the Cannes Film Festival award for Best Picture when your competition consists of nothing but a bunch of sissy French crap. Anyway, I digress. Continue reading ‘Classically Shitty: The Third Man’
After watching two of the worst Westerns I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing, a sense of morbid curiosity forced me to do some research on them (i.e. read the Wikipedia articles). To my surprise, these two movies are directly related. And not simply because they both suck ass.
In 1952, High Noon (starring Gary Cooper and directed by Fred Zinneman) was released. Everybody hated it, and it only became a “classic” to film-fags looking at it in hind-sight. Contemporary people saw it as an allegory for the Red Scare in the U.S., and was deemed “un-American”. After all, any dissent against the government is un-American and therefore COMMUNISM. At least some things haven’t changed. But I digress… High Noon pissed off enough people that John Wayne and Howard Hawks decided they would make an argument against it, and that came in the form of Rio Bravo which was released in 1959.
High Noon pissed me off, too, not because it was un-American, but because it is fucking boring and moves along at a goddamn snail’s pace. I was too busy struggling against an impending coma to notice all the un-American stuff.
At first, I wasn’t sure if I should make this a Classically Shitty post. Serpico is more of a stupid movie than a shitty one. They had a lot of good pieces (actors, director, true story, etc.), but couldn’t execute them in any logical fashion. Everything that happens, happens in the dumbest possible way. It’s more Classically Stupid than anything else. But then I thought, “You know what? Fuck it.” Serpico is just as Classically Shitty as everything else in this series.
The movie opens with a rip-roaring, high-octane car chase around the streets of New York City where — oh, wait, sorry, I’m thinking of some other movie. Serpico opens with the titular police officer (played by Al Pacino) being casually taken to a hospital after having been shot in the face. People learn of his wounding, and react in the most apathetic manner imaginable. “Huh? What’s that? Serpico was shot? Oh, okay. Hey, did you see the Yankees game last night?” After that, the rest of the movie is told through an extended flashback.
Frank “Paco” Serpico is an honest cop with a great nickname. Serpico is also a really a weird dude. For the first half of the movie he is working in some kind of fingerprint catalog system, and he talks in this weird, kind of nasal, kind of high-pitched voice. He literally prances around the police department like a ballerina. He spends time in the bathroom with other dudes with the lights off. When people accuse him of being gay (even though the film shows us he isn’t), he doesn’t bother to deny it. Eventually, all his hard work talking weird, dancing, and cavorting in bathrooms pays off, and he gets promoted to a new division as a “plainclothes” officer. Continue reading ‘Classically Shitty: Serpico’
Raging Bull is another one of those “classic” movies the film-fags love. Just take a look at this quote from a professional film critic. It pretty much sums up everything the film-fags think about this movie: “An essential addition to the libraries of all true cinephiles, the film is a triumph both for De Niro and his director, Martin Scorsese.”
It’s amazing to me that these fuckers loved this piece of shit so much. It also amazes me how film-fags refer to themselves as “cinephiles,” which is one of the most pretentious -sounding things I’ve ever heard. These people probably sit around in their skinny jeans, berets and striped shirts, smoking cigarettes, eating baguettes, and talking in fake French accents about how their taste in movies runs so much deeper than that of the average person.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the capability to express in words how much this movie sucks ass. The English language doesn’t have strong enough curse words to truly convey my hatred for Raging Bull. So, I decided to illustrate my reactions to the viewing experience by showing you pictures of pugs.
I’ve been a fan of Mel Brooks for as long as I can remember. The first movie of his that I saw was Spaceballs. The humor is sophomoric and obvious and low-brow and terrible and hilarious. I loved it. Over the years, I have watched all the other movies he made, and have mostly enjoyed them all. Whether it was the genius of The Producers or the sheer insanity of History of the World: Part One, Brooks always had me laughing. His best movie is without a doubt Young Frankenstein, which is also one of the greatest comedy films of all time. The one movie of his that I never seemed to get around to until recently was Blazing Saddles.
This 1974 movie was not the first that Mel Brooks directed, but it was probably the one that really put him on the map for the public at large. Supposedly, it is a hilarious, classic film that should be watched by all movie fans. At least that’s what the film-fags say. Of course, having enjoyed all of Brooks’ other works, I expected them to be right. It turns out the film-fags were wrong again.
Blazing Saddles is, for lack of a better word, shitty. I wish there was another word I could use to articulate what a bloated, excessive, nonsensical, boring piece of crap this movie is. But no other word better encompasses all of those things than: shitty.
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Greatest Film of All Time Reviewed by BrikHaus!
Citizen Kane is considered to be the greatest film of all time. Rotten Tomatoes gives it a score of 100%, the American Film Institute (whatever the fuck that is) ranked it as the #1 film ever made (apparently they haven’t seen Conan the Barbarian), and every film school instructor in the world jerks off to it on a regular basis. The real question we should be asking is: Why? Why do so many people give so many shits about this movie?
Film-fags will throw around terms like, “Deep Focus” and “Low-Angle Shots” and “Lightning Mix.” Those are film-making techniques that director Orson Welles helped to pioneer in this movie. Innovative techniques are not a reason for Citizen Kane to be called the greatest movie of all time. That would be like saying the 1893 Duryea Motor Wagon was the greatest car of all time because it had a 4 horsepower, single cylinder gasoline engine, a friction transmission, a spray carburetor, and low tension ignition.
You could say that Orson Welles is the “greatest pioneering film director of all time” but that has little to do with his movie being the best ever. So, again, why do people fawn all over this movie? Here’s why: it’s about gays. Yes, that’s right. It was a pioneering film with a rich subtext about a homosexual love affair. Orson Welles had HUGE balls to make a movie about gay love in 1941, and that is the reason it remains such a beloved classic to this day.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s is one of those “classic” movies you are supposed to like because film-fags said so. But it’s awful. I can’t think of a single redeeming aspect of this movie. Sure, it has George Peppard of A-Team fame, but that doesn’t enhance the movie. Maybe if halfway through Mr. T burst through a brick wall, gold chains glittering, a machine gun blasting, bullets ripping Holly Golightly’s flesh into threads, the movie could have been cool. But that didn’t happen, so it’s a piece of shit.
The actual breakfast at Tiffany’s is the first scene of the movie. But it’s so vague you have no idea what the fuck is happening. Holly stands outside the store some time before it opens and eats a pastry. That’s it. That was the breakfast at Tiffany’s. Well, the breakfast outside Tiffany’s at any rate. I guess you could end the movie right there. It would be preferable to the non-stop shitfest that follows. And believe me, it is a shitfest. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is boring, has shitty dialogue, a retarded protagonist, and it’s incredibly racist, too. It really has it all. Continue reading ‘Classically Shitty: Breakfast at Tiffany’s’
Tags: academy awards, Ambien, awesome, billiards, classical, classically, Fast Eddie, film critics, filmfag, films, George C Scott, heist, hollywood, hustling, Jackie Gleason, Minnesota Fats, Movies, oscars, Paul Newman, pool, Roger Ebert, shit, The Bank Job, The Deer Hunter, The Hustler
There are certain movies that grace every “Best Of” list of top films. These are the ones that filmfags can’t help but jizz over at their mere mention. They get praised by critics, and labeled as “groundbreaking” and “influential.” Typically, they are also boring as shit and are a test of patience to even sit through them. These are the movies I want to discuss in “Classically Shitty.” The ones you are supposed to like because the filmfags said they were great, but when you watch them you can’t help but feel like you just wasted two hours of your life.
Although the first entry into this series was probably my completely fair and balanced review of 2001: A Space Odyssey, I will officially kick off this series with a review of one of the worst pieces of shit ever put to celluloid: The Hustler.
This is a 1961 film starring Paul Newman. The American Film Institute regards it as the 6th best sports movie ever made. Well, if you consider “sports” to be standing around, smoking, drinking, and acting like a jackass, then yeah, this is a sports movie. It’s about a guy named Fast Eddie
Feltcher Felson who likes to play pool, and wants to beat the reigning king of the game, a dude named Minnesota Fats. The apparent twist is that Fast Eddie is a lot better than he appears to be, and hopes to take out Minnesota Fats by surprise.
Just about every film “expert” in the world has a raging boner for this movie. Why? I have no goddamn idea. This movie stands as one of the greatest examples of excessive, self-indulgent, masturbatory bullshit ever made. There is no plot. But I’ll tell what there is a lot of. Dead space. The film will literally drag on for 10-15 minutes at a time with no dialogue or characters on screen whatsoever. Filling that time is a bunch of special effects, and Stanley Kubrick’s massive ego. I’m really not sure what Kubrick was going for here. For example, having a shot of a shuttle drifting toward a space station, while classical music plays… for 10 fucking minutes. Jesus, Kubrick, you could have easily done that in one minute, and not come off as a pretentious douchebag in the process. That’s the problem with this movie. It’s two and a half hours long, but if you fast forward through the special effects orgies, you could probably watch it in about an hour and fifteen minutes. Admittedly, there are a few cool ideas here. For example, the Monoliths, which appear to be some kind of sentient beings. They show up and bestow intelligence on primitive man in a very interesting scene… which is again ruined by lasting too goddamn long. Every fucking scene in this movie goes on for twice as long as it needs to. Any punch or effectiveness is lost, and you are left with a lingering sense of irritable impatience. The movie overstays it’s welcome time and time again, making you hate it. If any other director tried this he would have been placed in the same category as Uwe Boll, but because the “great” Stanley Kubrick did it, everyone jerks off over this movie. Continue reading ‘2001: A Space Odyszzzzzzzz’