India's Coming of Age in Slumdog Millionaire

A few years back I had the “privilege” of running tech and audio for a convention celebrating Indian and Southeastern Asian “Americans.” I had the impression that the event would be full of the typical minority overcoming “oppressive” white America speeches and testimonials. Instead, the convention was full of bragging about how these various groups of Asians are taking over America via international marketplace. One of the Indian speakers bragged that all of his relatives owned an Exxon or a 7-Eleven. Basically, he played on the type of stereotypes that would get a European-American thrown out of such an event.

After watching Slumdog Millionaire last night courtesy of mad dog mAQ allowing me to get in for free, I couldn’t help but think of the Indian and Southeastern Asian event I had attended years before. Slumdog Millionaire is a coming of age story about an Indian boy named Jamal who basically goes from being an inhabitant of Mumbai third world sewer to a millionaire. With the boys rise to adulthood in the world, also comes the development of India into a serious global economic player. Jamal even takes a job at one of those outsourcing telephone service companies. I am sure everyone has had the annoying opportunity to call a company and having to deal with a telephone operator who has a hard time both speaking English and understanding what you are talking about.

Typical annoying and worthless protesters

In all honesty, Slumdog Millionaire is a well contrived and constructed film but highly overrated like most of director Danny Boyle’s work. Also, the film is one of few honest major motion picture films. Aside from the sickening “we are the world” propaganda in many Hollywood movies, few mainstream films address the age globalization and the new world order we are entering. Now even Hindus and Muslims can watch trash American TV shows like Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Slumdog Millionaire makes it clear that the world is becoming homogenized and with it the dissolution of culture. Through Jamal’s life of struggle, he accidentally becomes a player in the international market and for the “citizen of the world” that is the only thing left to obtain in our new materialist world.

I won’t be giving away any “spoilers” by saying that Slumdog Millionaire ends with a triumphant Bollywood style dance featuring Jamal (plus his girl) and a group of random street dwellers. I found this silly ending of the film to be interesting because I saw a similar thing take place at the Indian and Southeastern Asian convention I attended. Aside from bragging about India’s success internationally, the only evidence of Indian culture were the goofy Bollywood dances these people performed. Just like many other “up and coming” third world nations of the world, they are trading in their old culture for economic and industrial development. The Bollywood dance is merely a last remnant of what Indian culture was.


One could say that Karl Marx’s dream of a materialistic and cultureless international world is coming true. One only has to go to a local gas station to see one of the many “American” members of the Indian diaspora. The wise Indian has his eye on the money and he’s willing to work 12 hour days serving hostile American blacks (Indians really seem to hate them) and whites to get it. Slumdog Millionaire is a film about both the triumph of a Young man and his country. The film, like the Indian-American, is a hybrid of both east and west. Slumdog Millionaire features both the Hindi and English language. Like the film, the borders between nations and cultures are becoming blurred. For those third world peoples that are lucky enough to “immigrate” to America, they have a better life to look forward to. For those members not lucky enough to find a good outsourced job in India or ability to make a living in America, the future probably looks bleak. Just like the lower classes in the United States, with the dissolution of culture, they have not much to look forward to except maybe watching films featuring Bollywood style dances.

-Ty E

Nowhere

Hailed as "90210 on acid", this initial assessment doesn't stray far from reality. Some form of reality that is. Nowhere consists of deranged teenage hallucinations, male sexuality crisis', lizard aliens, grotesque suicides, and an uncomfortable interracial child couple headlining with a young Mena Suvari. Nowhere isn't just the pinnacle of bisexual film making, it's also Araki's finest film effort coupled with the forced genius of Hunter S. Thompson, whose work seems contrived and drug-induced in retrospect. Sure, the finest genius can come up with something relevant to literature but a gossip journalist on mescaline can turn prose into desperation rather quick and surprisingly become heralded and looked up to cause of it. What a world, ladies and gentlemen.


Gregg Araki conjoins facets from each of his other film to complete his tour de force of teen angst. The usual casting of James Duval lends much substance to Nowhere on the term of avant-garde cinema regulars. His role in the great American classic ID4 led to Donnie Darko, Nowhere, and the Doom Generation. The film opens up reasonably promising with Duval encompassing the very idea of a "Steamy shower sequence". He begins masturbating, collecting his thoughts in a process that involves awkward conversations, artfully composed sex scenes, and bi-curious affairs. All of this to a rousing shoegaze score nonetheless.


Nowhere even seemed to set the stage for Araki's screen adaptation of Mysterious Skin which also dictates a code of sexuality livened by thoughts of space aliens. Through the eyes of Dark (Duval), we witness a stage being set as he decides that he isn't going to live much longer. It's the prophetic doom that gives Nowhere that vibe of terror as you never quite know what to expect and Nowhere will always surprise you, even after watching it again. Consisting of tons of cameos, many familiar faces will pop up here and there not limited to Heather Graham, Ryan Phillippe, Rose McGowan, Shannon Doherty, Rachel True, Debi Mazar, Christina Applegate, Jordan Ladd, and Guillermo Díaz. Nowhere is hard to track down at that. Its public domain lies within the market of Region 2 DVDs but is currently hosted up at YouTube (so that you may watch for free). Lord knows when Araki will decide to release his magnum opus [preferably in a box set].



If you've ever thought about The Doom Generation and found yourself disgusted at the pet project, you should give Nowhere a chance in order to redeem yourself. Not to say that you're in the wrong for hating on either of these two but the leading argument is from an offended party. This tires me to know end seeing as how Araki makes it very clear that his films are high-brow surrealist trash. Epic scenery and tinted lens coupled with neon lights flow steadily through the course of most of his films save for Mysterious Skin. A distinct scene that comes to mind is Bart's drug abode. His room's walls are plastered with lyrics in a hefty font. This might create a prestigious arthouse vibe but this, my friends, borders genius.


When all is said and done, Nowhere will shock you to a certain point of intensity. You'll question the film to some extent, perhaps even wonder aloud what you just experienced but the answer will always be obscured. I'm not sure what Araki had in mind while creating Nowhere but whatever it is, I want more of it. If you can't handle ideas construed in a film, don't watch movies. But for depictions of drug abuse, teenage angst, apocalyptic surrealism, and Araki's personal blend of immature humor, Nowhere is the undisputed champion of trash cinema. We're all just waiting for this to be released commercially in the United States.

-mAQ

Hot Rod

I've said it before and I'll say it again; I hate reviewing comedies. As long as there's free will, tastes will change and vary from anothers. I might bring about a point of a certain joke revolving around the heydays of slapstick comedy and one might snap back with a comment putting Apatow on a pedestal. So rather than expecting you to enjoy this comedy, I'm merely reiterating my thoughts on this film down on digital paper, more so as a personal exorcism. This has been a long time coming.


Hot Rod is the film created by the now famous Lonely Island trio of Akiva Schaffer, Andy Samberg, and Jorma Taccone. This group smashed into the mainstream with videos for both "Dick in a Box" and "Jizz in my Pants". As juvenile as these videos are, one can't help but to laugh. Hot Rod stars Andy Samberg as a struggling stunt man attempting to raise money for his step father's "conveniently priced surgery". Before you think this film has layers of sentiment, this is all so he can beat his step-father's ass without him dying. The subplot of Hot Rod is a dignified father/son machismo tournament where winner takes all. The weapons available are shurikens, dry wall, Rhodesian fighting sticks, ultimate punches, and Vietnam flashbacks. Hot Rod really is one of a kind.


For scenes of clever and dry comedy, Hot Rod is the purveyor of such. Danny McBride churns out line after line, each presenting something new, quotable, and dead hilarious. Hot Rod, as a scene collective, is the greatest buddy comedy ever. Watch this with as many friends as you can as the experience is one to appreciate. When I saw this film in theaters, it was between this and Superbad. Knowing that Superbad was going to be trashy, foul, and uninspired, I decided to go for the underdog. Let me tell you, that decision is a glowing point in my life. During one wooded glen Footloose scene in particular, a fall occurs over an extended period of time and I've never laughed so hard in my entire meaningless existence. I was hunched over a stadium seat crying from violent fits of laughter. I wouldn't be surprised if I was retching.



Apart from this scene, so much more stands out. Brief improvisations such as "Pools are perfect for holding water, man..." or Rico's dream description in which he describes him dreaming about punching a thousand wizards as hard as he can in the face so they explode. He then goes into detail about how the wizard wives all come out wanting to have sex with him. Who writes this stuff? Give it time and Hot Rod will finally be realized as comedy gold. All great things realized over time eventually get their due. All these scenes don't even scratch the surface. The golden treat of this film is the retro soundtrack that passes vibes like Hurricane Katrina passes levees. Too soon?


Reviewing comedies is like telling someone their opinion is wrong, which in some cases in necessary. You hate my comedies and I probably don't like yours. If there ever were a film to topple the quote king Anchorman, Hot Rod is that golden messiah, but with a cape and a stick-on mustache. With quiet hits like Space Olympics, Blizzard Man, and Jizz in my Pants, Andy Samberg is quickly becoming an honest comical figure. I'd much prefer his glorification than Seth Rogen making the same faces and starring in one-note films. Best of all? I never tire of Hot Rod. I could watch this film on repeat.

-mAQ

Freezer Burn: The Invasion of Laxdale

Any amount of "psychotherapy" will conclude with the discovery that I love every film that Crispin Glover has ever appeared in. I use the word "love" in a quite platonic context but the idea should be passed along that I enjoy most films featuring him, if not just for his role. When I had read the title card bearing two names which said "Tom Green and Crispin Glover", I couldn't believe it. First off, Tom Green seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth save for his webisodes. Second off, two kings of depraved eccentricities have finally come together for a film that should loosely follow the type of construct that Evolution did. Let's face it, Evolution wasn't that bad(?)


Freezer Burn is that one kind of film, a festival runner that seems to inevitably drop off the face of the planet. Any "Joe" could gather a small fortune and cast two actors that find themselves in the most uncomfortable of predicaments, and come out with a film. I feel sorry to say it but if the budgeting was divided in a pie chart for an easy visual aid, you'd see that Glover's and Green's monetary cut make up most of the film's production. That's not to say for the rare occurrence of CGI that has been applied in order to create the illusion that these are aliens that we are dealing with but 9 times out of 10, you will forget this movie faster than it forgot you.


The small Canadian town of Laxdale is home to a hockey star (go figure) and it's up to him to convince the townspeople that a group of Dutch aliens are not in fact drilling for oil but rather going to microwave the earth so they can acquire our planet as a habitat to call their own (or something like that). Truth is, I wasn't really paying attention to this film. At times, I get hit by heavy doses of procrastination but none ever bore the hygienic tendencies of that fateful night. While watching Freezer Burn, I found myself walking away at times to do things that really didn't need to be done, for example - organizing my already organized DVD shelf.


Crispin Glover's turn as an Aryan alien doesn't really turn heads. Normally, Glover's demeanor stands out with maniacal laughter or even just his cold presence but alas, the director instead decided to replace Glover's lines of dialogue with little clicks and whistles as to impersonate a "lost alien language". Cute. Not to mention the alien language sounds like it was made by a homosexual rave kid thanks to the freeware version of Frooty Loops. Even the deaths of the Martians were uninspired. Securing an homage to the Blob by making the aliens weakness be that of the cold, Tom Green gets together with an extremely ugly girl who appears to be stealing Brandy's (Joe Dirt) mojo and these two throw frozen confectionery treats at multicultural aliens, all the while enjoying the purified remnants of what is Canada.


Freezer Burn contains zero to no humor and 30% more cholesterol than the leading competitors. There's almost no reason to go see this film. Hell, if Crispin Glover made any less body gestures (he moves his hand several inches), I'd refuse to even acknowledge this film even existed. Tom Green's always good for a laugh but Freddy Got Fingered is beckoning you from across the room. Blast that film all you want but Freddy Got Fingered will always have more artistic ingenuity than this science-fiction "disasterpiece". I think I might hate Freezer Burn.

-mAQ

Zardoz

With just the title fresh in your mind, do images assault you? Ones resonating, rather vividly, landscapes of fantastical wonders from which could only be created from the genius mind that of Piers Anthony? Perhaps even the countenance of being a Dystopian film accompanied by the laser-engraved image of a lone Sean Connery in a bright red loin cloth-like uniform. Zardoz is all these things plus more. It's a sinful piece of allegorical relations to every medium of art imaginable; sculpting, painting, literature, film of sorts, and even music.

Zardoz might be the greatest and only post-Dystopian film ever created. The flow is that of a dream like atmosphere with candid colors and vicarious retro-futuristic designs. What Dario Argento's films are critically acclaimed for, John Boorman does better without the side-effects of experimental tactics and takes the mystical theory of dream scenarios as demonstrated in Suspiria and Inferno and morphs it into a perfect film adaptation. Where normal Dystopian films "end", post-Dystopian "begins". After the alluded apocalypse ravages more of the mind than the land, a new strain of being is introduced, although this Utopian incarnation is far from the Eden we'd expect.


Set in a landscape of archived nihilism, "Exterminators" are designed to kill "Brutals". Their God, Zardoz, is realized as a floating stone head easily reminiscent of the colorful drawings that occupy much of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Upon landing, the statue bellows the importance of the gun and proceeds to spew forth mountains of weapons and ammunition to aid them in their "holy crusade". As eager as the Exterminators are to go forth and murder Brutals, they are warned of the dangers of the penis. "The penis is bad", the head promptly exclaims. After questioning his idol, Zed (Sean Connery at his mustachioed best) stows away aboard the vessel and kills the pilot and magician aboard without a moments hesitation. Zardoz soon lands in the "Vortex" - the other half of the divided lands. Rather than being a killing ground, the Vortex is a divine Utopia with intelligent life and strict moral codes. The Vortex is that of science; a land where no one dies and your only aging is issued as punishment. As you can tell from the plot essentials, Zardoz is cunningly elaborate and effectively substantiated in the Dystopian genre.


A premature omniscience known only as "the Tabernacle" is the main "villain" of Zardoz, other than the inhabitants of the Vortex. Each is guilty of sin for allowing such a lifeless existence to occur. Zed has come to bring change but with change comes uncertainty. The inhabitants of the Vortex are split between executing Zed and studying his masculinity and admiring his seed and bold erection. Note: Sean Connery can only become fully erect while looking at Charlotte Rampling, who defies controversy and transcends into a realm of Nazi fetishism with her role in The Night Porter.


Zardoz sets off on a mystic quest which features scenes of epic savagery and subversive elements such as condoning rape as something hereditary and for the most part, normal.

[SPOILERS] The scene in which life is renewed and death appears for the citizens of the Vortex is stunning and violent in context. Eager to be ridden of their unnatural lives, everyone screams to be shot as the Exterminators raid the camp. A brutal symphony occurs as classical music rings true as bodies hit the grass. Erotic subtleties are quietly passed around as bouncing cleavage is spotted instantaneously. [/SPOILERS]

Science fiction has never been so maligned, artistically ahead of its time, and revolted beyond the point of failure as Zardoz has been. A true auteur's working of Dystopian film while adding heavy theological elements. Zardoz isn't for you or I. It truly feels as if this film beckons the audience calling of an otherworldly society.

-mAQ

Why is Hollywood "Obsessed" with Garbage?

The Hollywood film industry has never been interested in art. They only seem to be interested in social subversion, agitation, blatant degeneracy, arrogant parodies and of course one cannot forget profits. Hollywood has also convinced white girls that it's okay to be a dirty whore and partake in recreational miscegenation. Elia Kazan’s film Splendor in the Grass (1961) taught teens that if they do not have sex before marriage then they may go insane. Now Hollywood is teaching us that blond haired Aryan women are very “obsessed” with black men.

Hollywood’s latest assault on Americans of Europe descent is a piece of filth called Obsessed. In this cinematic shitfest, not only is the deranged white bitch obsessed with a Negro but she puts his life and family in jeopardy. Funny, have any of the clowns that work in Hollywood actually looked at the yearly statistics of black men raping white women? You can be sure that you will never see a film about grotesque and obese Jewish bull dykes that stalk little blond girls. You can also be sure to never see a film about the typical local Negro that targets college freshman for rape yet somehow the worthless multicultural "cops" can never arrest this bestial thug.

Yes, Hollywood is obsessed with its hatred of Western civilization. Hollywood is run by cowardly weaklings who have serious “mommy” issues. The only subjects that Hollywood can treat seriously is the so called holocaust and “minorities” overcoming evil prejudices. It is sad that white America is stupid enough to eat up this sentimental garbage that even the Hollywood producers doubtfully take seriously. If a white woman were to be become criminally obsessed with a black man hopefully she will be blessed with AIDS.

After watching the trailer for Obsessed, I really wonder if the world is coming to an end. Seriously, how can a society that takes pleasure in watching such garbage ever expect to survive the next century (or next couple of decades)? Had a film like Obsessed been released a hundred years ago, you can be guaranteed that all those “talented” people working in Hollywood would be hanging from telephone poles all across Sunset Boulevard. White America has just become too degenerate, valueless, cultureless, and apathetic to care about the blatant anti-white sentiment behind films like Obsessed.

A truly beautiful couple with a long future ahead of them

On second thought, maybe white women are becoming dangerous for black men. I am sure everyone has noticed the rise in mulatto children in public over the past couple years. Will whorish white women be responsible for the extermination of the true 100% black race via miscegenation? Are white women conspiring a “silent holocaust” for the black male “victims” of America? I doubt it.

-Ty E

Ong Bak 2

From time to time, strange events catapult me into an unexplainable mood that borders a body high and the effects of emotional void. No emoticon designed for Myspace and Facebook could describe even the vacant stare on my face. My inner workings are as mysterious to myself as the readers of Soiled Sinema are to us. Knowing perfectly well that Ong Bak 2's hands were not guilt free, Tony Jaa's directorial debut, finally at long last, served as the irrational catalyst for what some could call a "strange day."


Awaiting Ong Bak 2 had become part of my routine film updates. Eagerly awaiting for any festival news of this became a hobby. Normally, I purge my mind of international releases as they mercilessly boast foreign treasures equipped with insane action, marvelous cinematography, and rampant yet dignified humor. These are, in fact, the very reasons why I abhor Twitchfilm.* Their extensive database of trailers and previews showcase the finest moments in globalized cinema or in other words, a collected hivemind of stylish and brutal antiques ranging from every genre. If there were a form of getting cinema blue balls, Twitchfilm would be the purveyor of such harm. Their seasoned gift of the Ong Bak 2 trailer baring ribbons & bows left me speechless. I began salivating precariously; incapacitated to the point of becoming oblivious to the animalic routine of eat/drink/fuck/sleep.



After the festival premiere of Ong Bak 2 came and went, I found myself with hardly anything left to anticipate. Sure, the film was an austere showcase of martial arts being simultaneously fused within a fighting orgy but to date, my thoughts are very scattered on this film and requires a bit of esoteric analysis to be fit into my schedule. Undoubtedly, the greatest contribution that Ong Bak 2 has presented to film is the resonating effects of the anti-triumphant ending. This ending in question breaches past a-typicalities and into a sarcastic fate denouncing valor and the very generic form of diplomatic immunity that most action heroes seem to find themselves coated in.


The tale of Ong Bak 2 seems to mostly manifest within the creative confines of a loosely adapted Count of Monte Cristo-like story of revenge, redemption, and inner growth. The creative genius of Alexander Dumas is partly what Ong Bak 2 must award the most credit, not just the [amazing] action choreography and the tedious and trivial back story/flashbacks. While taking a gander at several festival and randoms reviews, I noticed that many people seemed to lash out at this film as if some vendetta had boiled to a fiery temperament. Most of the negative energy seemed to circulate around the plot (or the lack of one by their offense). If you would, for a second, recall back on Jaa's previous efforts:

Ong Bak - A man must reclaim his traditional heirloom by going to a city and kicking people's faces in.
The Protector - A man must reclaim his traditional elephant by going to a city and kicking people's faces in.


Knowing what you know now, consider this: is calling a film lacking in substance, that strays far from previous works, a down right low blow on behalf of Tony Jaa, who left the team of Pinkaew as to escape from his one-note fate? Not even I stretch an idea of no-mercy as far as the gripping "fan base" of Tony Jaa. Ong Bak 2 stands steady as Jaa's own piece of period piece action while being stylishly fierce and a distant mirage compared to his previous starring roles. It also successfully made the jump from mindless action to thoughtful action, paying debts to lovers of classic literature and a bravado piece of epic brutality aided by the bestial visage of Tony Jaa. Real fight is back and Tony Jaa's tearing up the martial arts world with unapologetic body beatings that can be compared to bungee-jumping into a pool of straight razors. Have mercy on this film for its flaws as it won't do the same for you.

Final Note: mAQ is, in all actuality, is an avid reader of Twitchfilm and in no way persuades you to not read their news updates.

-mAQ

Cronicas

Is the news media run by assholes? Does the media have the ability to mold public opinion? Does the media outright lie or withhold horrible crimes that may benefit them? Does the media think that the general public is a bunch of morons that barely know how to wipe their own asses? Obviously, I would have to say “yes” to all these questions. Naturally, Hollywood has produced a few films criticizing and satirizing the media. Hollywood hack Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers comes to mind. Funny, I thought that Stone was a disinformation guy with some type of agenda. Anyways, the Ecuadorian film Cronicas is the first film to appropriately address the conspiring clowns that run the media.


In Cronicas, John Leguizamo plays an arrogant video journalist who is attempting find a child murdering and raping serial killer form Ecuador. I have never been a fan of Leguizamo but always felt he was good at playing asshole midgets. He seems to be a natural method actor of sorts. Of course, Leguizamo’s role in Cronicas as a self-serving news journalist is perfect for him. He also works with another man and woman who also happen to be a couple. Being the prick that he is, Leguizamo’s character is screwing the woman in the news crew making it very obvious to her real partner.

Leguizamo saves the life of the ambiguous serial killer in Cronicas. An obese man attempts to set the killer on fire for killing his son (the killer accidentally killed him with his car). Soon afterward, Leguizamo’s character starts a sort of mutual beneficial relationship with the killer. The killer is attempting to get out of jail before he is murdered and Leguizamo is attempting to get his best news story yet. It is obvious that Leguizamo’s character only cares about his career and WISHING he was suave. The revealing of Leguizamo’s true self is what makes Cronicas a good commentary on those that make a career on bringing us “breaking stories.”


Cronicas does have its fair share of flaws. I guess it wouldn’t be considered a “flaw” that Cronicas is one of the most aesthetically repelling films that I have ever seen. I thought the America’s inner cities were some of the biggest manmade waste piles in the world. That was until I saw the jungle and swamp “villages” of Ecuador. I guess the ugliness of the settings of Cronicas goes great with a film about a child serial killer. Still, there is only so much ugliness that I can take. Aside from the visuals of Cronicas, the film also seemed a little unevenly paced. Before you know it, the film is over before you feel it reaches its full “thrilling” potential.


Cronicas is certainly a film I am glad I saw but most likely will never watch again. It is also a film that proves that John Leguizamo is talented but also an annoying little turd. It is about time someone made a film criticizing the ethics of the media while being somewhat subtle about it. Cronicas is able to combine “social commentary” and “psychological thriller” for an interesting hybrid. I just wish I didn’t feel a little sick from all the ugliness after watching it.

-Ty E

All About the Benjamins

It all started out as a joke. "Soiled Sinema is all about the Benjamin's!" - Which we are. This drove me to purchase a film that most every generation X youth had already seen save for me. Starring the glorified action star Ice Cube and pathetic funnyman Mike Epps (whose pathetic career has involved him in various colorful situations where he flaunts an annoying persona), All About the Benjamins features rampant glamorized displays of idiosyncratic greed and ethnic superiority as the two positive Black leads trump the "underlings." Poor, poor Francesco. May our memories go out to him. He's in a better place now.


Ice Cube has dug himself in a safe zone with his collaborating rap efforts of N.W.A., Westside Connection, and even his solo projects. For this, I bare nary foul feelings for the man; the legend. After his comedic enterprises flourished with the subsequent hit release of Friday, Cube Vision formed with the motive of creating Ice Cube starred comedies and such which spawned 3 Friday sequels and other black cultured comedies revolving around barbershop hi-jinx that bored white audiences around the world. With the eventual release of All About the Benjamins, the probable theory of "big" action stars was born. I say this because after watching a chunky Negro run around the set of XXX: State of the Union, I can swear that the action genre has never been the same.


Ice Cube's film credits have always had an edgy racial context to them. Despite he himself being an inspiration to many black people, he creates films showing black people as disgusting citizens who shit constantly while twitching and cooking meals out of "fried chikin" and collared greens. All About the Benjamins strays from normal African stereotypes and focuses on greed in many forms. A self-gaining sort and an oblivious form. In this film, Ice Cube's searching for diamonds to produce his own P.I. firm while Mike Epps is attempting to recover his $60 million dollar winning lottery ticket to which he shouts daydreams of spending it all on "bling". The idea itself is insulting to the current state of our economy. This wasn't as bad of an idea as the creation of Confessions of a Shopaholic.


The action sequences are decently shot and don't suffer too much from jump-cuts and obnoxious editing techniques. Just when the getting is good, Mike Epps saves the day by bumbling around, dropping weapons in water and just generally fucking everything up. The final product is highly entertaining but irritating in seasoned retrospect. It seems that Ice Cube has a habit with pairing up with the most annoying actors in existence, a stooge if you will, as if to make himself look cool by comparison; but hey, it works wonders for his large ego. All About the Benjamins is a bit of a blunder baring subversive sociological elements but in the end makes the project contrived, nevertheless amusing on a high level. In a way, Soiled Sinema is all about the Benjamin's.

-mAQ

Dying Breed

A common tactic in provoking irrational fear; take a true story and apply a "What if" element to the story in order to blindly steer the script direction in which ever way gravity prefers. We've seen Open Water, The Host, From Hell (and the graphic novel), Wolf Creek, and many others that barely open up the possibilities of pseudo-historical horror. Taking both the legends of the Tasmanian Tiger and Alexander "The Pieman" Pearce - an infamous cannibal, Dying Breed "interweaves" both tales into one fact-faction survival film that rings bells true although reminding you of every other camping terror film.


This Horrorfest addition has garnered some publicity for its less-than-sanitary poster display that was banned in Australia for displaying a delicious meal cracked open to contain some organic ingredients. In general, Dying Breed has a fantastic marketing campaign but the film just wastes it all away taking in the bland script, characters, and events glazed over by a mesmerizing forest setting. And of course, the addition of an anti-GeoConservative friend to the trip was necessary. Jack (Nathan Phillips) kills animals, fucks everywhere, slashes tires, and befouls the hospitality of his captors. If he hadn't been on the trip, their situation wouldn't be rectified but their redemption might have been merciful.


Taking an interesting theme of forced impregnation as seen and popularized in Pink Flamingos, Dying Breed invokes the aid of a town birthed entirely on hostages put in the same situation as the stars of this show. Female backpackers looking for the enigmatic Tasmanian Tiger are chained down and raped repeatedly giving Dying Breed a grotesquely erotic edge that will collect with the final product and make the final scene very visceral and bleak. The Pieman is regarded within the film as a slasher villain thanks to the camera tactics of scarcely revealing his underlying motives, while at the same time, glamorizing his ruggedness. His stalking sequences and such are less than horrifying and even invokes questions such as "Uhhh......" and "Errrrr......" I mean, honestly, how old is this guy? I doubt a diet of horny college girls instills the gift of eternal, inbred life.


Dying Breed follows Nina, an Irish zoologist who's on the trail of a Tasmanian Tiger and her sister, who disappeared 8 years before in the very same territory; not before sending a paw print of the Tiger though. Her boyfriend, Leigh Whannell, has organized the trip for her and he remains the saving grace through the film being both rational and sympathetic. Dying Breed is yet another boring exploit of a film depicting a male, innocent and solemn, going out of his way to please a female, only to get ravaged, beaten, and shit on by the end of the credits; meanwhile - glorifying the female as the hero (rather, heroine).


Dying Breed will never receive glowing reviews but from a fan expressing extreme appreciation for a legless nude female strung over a tree. It's these seldom gory and ridiculous moments that even qualify Dying Breed for a watch. I will wholeheartedly admit though, those scenes where you caught a slight and tiny glimpse of the elusive Tiger, these sent shivers down my spine and brims my mind with hope for a decaying species line. As for the Horrorfest line, as a collective, reformation is a must. Hopelessness aside, these high-grade low-quality films are the real dying breed to shower concern over, or rather, lack thereof.

-mAQ

Rape! 13th Hour

The quest for manhood is led to by many treacherous paths of righteousness. Each territory you cross into leads into a chain of cause and effect. There will be consequences for each and the one that Ishiyama chose is to become a serial rapists' apprentice in order to live the life of sex and riches. But the real problem here is getting Ishiyama to climax. The lil' bugger just doesn't have it in him and in this, he soon finds solace in the idea of rape. Rape's everywhere; it's in the newspapers, television, literature, and a frequent topic in film (See also; Any Yasuharu Hasebe film). Described is the first 10 minutes of Rape! 13th Hour and let me tell you; the odyssey that Crimson leads the emasculated cohort through is a dizzying journey through sleazy nihilism and avid selflessness.


Dispersed through the film are beautiful poetic visual metaphors that can be a doozy to catch on to. Crimson's epithet is derived from his bright red jacket and his crimson rose tattoo on his forearm. In moments of sexual assault, Crimson's tattoo begins to slowly fill with red ink until his "flower blossoms." As indicated by these little gems, Rape! 13th Hour is no amateur film and a prime highlight in the idea of creating a stellar script around many sexual taboos. In the current high peak of Asian film reception, Miike's Visitor Q is hailed as an absolute masterpiece of taboo film making but the real champions (or underdogs) are trapped behind closed circuits with no release pending and the only really light these films will see is in the hopes of Mondo Macabro, Pink Eiga, or exhaustive searching online.


Rape is a topic often visited by Nikkatsu films and ero-gro for that matter. Any Japanese pinku film mostly lingers around the concept of forced sexual relations and with good reason too. As much as you or any might deny it, there's definitely something unbelievably attractive about the domineering over a female. The beginning of the act (cemented by cinema) is a bit of flirtation with the idea - the fear, the struggle. It makes for beautiful film footage, given the right director. The only flaw with rape in film is that in most cases, it's made into something comical and not given life to the "terrible" act in which case, would make the act beautiful worthy of revelations of one's own sexuality.


Hot on the tail of Crimson is a gang of homosexual thugs led by an ant king. After witnessing Crimson rape someone, he's decided to make a proposition one could easily turn down; fuck the gay leader or get turned into the police. To make matters worse, the trio is compromised by two larger fellows. Poor Ishiyama got himself in the middle of something spectacularly horrible. As Crimson struts down the street, eyes hidden by Lennon glasses and hands in jacket pockets; his countenance is especially intimidating. Maybe this is what fuels Ishiyama's competitive virility match with Crimson and thus leads us the the shocking climax that rivals A Clockwork Orange on a scale of sexual encounters under a storm of sifting feathers. Just a minute before, he pins a woman that Crimson had claimed to a mirror, with a strung out and patiently executed thrust, the mirror cracks behind him. This sets the mood for a mirror shot of them making unconditional love in time for the credits to roll. Blazingly brilliant in style and only inhibited by the era from which it was produced, Rape! 13th Hour is scarcely matched.


There's no reason why anyone should be displeased with this 1977 Nikkatsu film. The title tells you the subject matter rather prematurely. You're but a fool if you walk into an experience such as Rape! 13th Hour and expect morals and tolerance for there is none. Gay-bashing aside, Rape! 13th Hour is a film with both violent and conscientious tendencies that rises to unnatural levels of both storytelling and sexual titillation. Abuse of women can be a structured act and Hasebe proves so with yet another film pertaining to the code of conduct displayed by serial rapists. With hints of My Own Private Idaho, A Clockwork Orange, and Straw Dogs, this films has every bit of sexual class and explosive depravity that you'd come to expect with the title boasting "rape" followed by an exclamation mark, as to say "Buy this! Rape turns you on!" - which it more than likely does.

-mAQ