Gran-Torino.jpg

Fired Up for Gran Torino?

By Pajiba Staff | DVD Releases | June 9, 2009 | Comments ()

By Pajiba Staff | DVD Releases | June 9, 2009 |


Gran-Torino.jpg

Crossing Over: Prisco shines it on: "Thank God for Hollywood. Otherwise, I'd never understand foreign cultures. From the same white-guilt-sphincter that turdspersed Babel and Crash, Crossing Over splashes into the bowl of theatres. (Inarratu is Spanish for Frank Jones. Shut up, and let me make my fucking point, assfaces.) Blessed be that Hollywood is brave enough to completely bundlecunt a pastiche of National Geographic articles with a C-student's current affairs report. The Weinsteins drop trough and speedfuck Wayne Kramer's uber-cliched assortment of immigrant horror stories, leaving behind a sloppily interconnected web that looks like Charlotte got into the farmer's still when spelling SOME PIG. It's about time someone finally stood up and said, "Foreigners, illegal or otherwise, sure have it rough." Bravo Wayne, you noble soul. Go back to making movies about Paul Walker getting hit in the face with iridescent hockey pucks and William H. Macy's cock."

Fired Up: I can't tell if Dustin is being serious or not. Who the fuck knows? "But Fired Up! is not, as one would expect, an easy replica, or a facsimile of Bring it On. And while it does pay homage to its forbearer, Fired Up is a classic in its own right, a film that deserves its place at the top of the cheer pyramid. It has done justice to the dying memory of spirit fingers, laser-catting greased lightning and summer lovin' into the mist. This ain't your typical beauty school drop-out, machacho. Bring It On set the benchmark, but Fired Up has brought it forth. There is no duh in this dumb, my precious little ones. It is all spirit sticks and spanky pants. It's a new world order, folks. This ain't a Paul Blart world we're living in anymore. There's a new leader of this Cheer-ocracy. It's name is Fired Up.

Gran Torino: Phillip sparks up some good words for the old codger, writing: "Gran Torino, working from a pretty solid script by Nick Schenk, may not be the best film of the year, but it might be the funniest. I could watch Clint rant and curse and spew racial slurs all day. In the hands of a lesser actor or director, this might have turned into farce, but there's a generally good balance between seriousness and comedic diversions, and Eastwood has great rapport with the mostly unprofessional Hmong actors surrounding him. Unfortunately, that balance starts to falter when the last act of the film slides into a haze of violence and metaphor-porn that's a bit tone deaf to everything that came before."

The International: The Boozehound knocks his loveryboy, Clive Owen, around a little with this one: "The International, the latest cookie-cutter espionage "thriller," featuring the Insanely All-Powerful Government or Corporate Cabal versus Haunted Renegade Maverick Cop, with an undercard of Plucky Female Sidekick and Grizzled Mentor With Vague European Accent. Director Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run) and screenwriter Eric Singer (the Singer family newsletter) deliver a story that will feel pretty familiar to anyone who has even driven through a city with a movie theater. I don't want to say The International is formulaic, but when Singer banged out the last line of dialogue, peevish non-breast-fed babies around the world spat up. (Rim shot!)"

Nobel Son: You get the feeling that Dustin thinks the movie is a little over the top: "Nobel Son, which has been sitting on the shelf for about three years, and was unceremoniously dumped over the weekend without any marketing or press, is not just over the top; it's over the top of over the top. In fact, if you climbed up on top of over to top's over the top, you'd still have to climb another 50 flights of stairs to truly appreciate how over the top Nobel Son is. It's wicked over the top. It's also not very good -- the sort of movie that tries so hard you feel a little sorry for it. Like, "Awwww. You put a lot of thought into it, Mr. Writer-Director Man. I feel kind of bad that I don't like it very much. I'd like my money back, but I'll give you a hug if you'd like." It's self-congratulatory, yet so bad that it refuses its own handshake."



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