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Archive for January 13th, 2009

Normally, as you know, I don’t update with wicked cool, up to the minute movie reporting, but I did see this on Slashfilm and I did think it was hilarious in such a juvenile way.   Michael Bay and McG are trading verbal insults about giant goddamn robots.

Bay started it:

We’ve seen certain movies coming out even try to duplicate Transformer size robots in their ads. Please, come on.

And McG responded with:

“It bothers me to tell you the truth. Ultimately, our large robots have nothing to do with the Transformers robots,” McG said. “I say with respect, giant robots have been the theme of film for a real long time.”

You should go to the Slashfilm link for the full story and the full quotes, FYI, but I took the best out of there.

How much of an arrogant waste of space do you have to be, Michael Bay, for me to feel sorry for McG?   And McG, what a lame response.  You should have just given Bay the finger.

Future filmmakers, take note – Michael Bay owns the Giant Robot idea and you’d better not infringe on that or he’ll make disparaging, douchebag comments about you in the press.

As I read the article, however, I really couldn’t help but imagine a situation in which Michael Bay, McG, Uwe Boll and Brett Ratner are locked in a room together with no food, no water and no way out.   When they finally started starving, who would they pick?   Would it surprise you if Bay was the first to get sacrificed for the greater good?

I wonder what kind of odds the Vegas bookies would be running on that one, that’s for sure.


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I’ll preface this write up by saying Untraceable is far from the worst movie I’ve seen doing this little shindig we call “Worst Movies Ever”, but it’s a far cry from the best.    In fact, it’s just shoddy and poor all the way around.

Diane Lane plays FBI Agent Jennifer Marsh, a lady who starts out as a no-nonsense, ass-kicking kind of cybercrime agent.   By that, I mean she picks up the phone and literally requests a door knocked down based on circumstantial evidence that would never actually get you a warrant in real life.   Already, this movie?  It bores me.

Marsh is asked to investigate a website with her partner, Griffin Dowd.   Killwithme.com features a kitten stuck to fly paper, unable to move as people watch the thing suffer and die.    Once the audience is successfully disturbed and a modicum of sensibility that the future serial killer is a sicko has been established, we move on.

Marsh, it seems, is a dedicated family woman!   She’s a single mom, lives with her mom and her daughter and throws roller-rink birthday parties where she invites her coworkers.   How sweet.   It’s too bad there’s  a psychopathic serial killer who likes to broadcast his major killings on the internets, huh?   That’ll totally fuck with your suburban household downtime.

Here’s where the film fucking explodes into stupidity.

Each victim is selected and broadcast for everyone to see on the Internet.  The more hit counts the website gets, the quicker the victim dies.

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One victim is pumped full of anti-coagulants and made to bleed to death; another is stuck under high-powered lamps and somehow burned to death.   When Griffin discovers the identity of the killer, he’s rounded up and summarily dispatched in a tank of water quickly infused with sulfuric acid.   Pleasant.

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