Antichrist

May 2009, Lars von Trier, 108 mins

(no stars. zero.)

As an American Idol judge would do, let’s start with the positive… the acting was fine. As for every other aspect of this torturous, lame, and utterly disturbing piece of (pardon my language) shit, Antichrist is terrible. It’s so bad, and mind blowingly so, that I can’t possibly fathom how it was made. To start, the film begins with a porno style close up of insertion…that’s right…insertion. And if that had been the worst of it, it might have been able to be described as artful. However, over the next hour and half nothing of any substance comes from the actions of the story.

It really is about as offensive to the eyes as a film could be. I would rather watch a 24 hour loop of the most grisly horror scenes from Hostel and Saw then to watch another 2 minutes of this abortion. What the filmmakers were thinking is far beyond my knowledge and whatever symbolism they were trying to create is just wrong. You failed.

Here is the movie’s spoiler, its sucks all the way through. Unrelenting crap. Not even a single redeeming quality. Unless, you’re a sex crazed sadist without the slightest bit of dignity… then you might very well enjoy yourself.

Antichrist is not like many bad movies in the way that you can find some humor in its shortcomings. I had hoped the film was going to be a pretentious hipster nightmare but what it actually is, is a test of endurance. I forced myself to finish for the sole fact that I never wanted to see it again. I wasn’t looking for a redeeming quality because no surprise was going to erase the first 80 minutes.

I wish I could go into detail about some of the scenes and their advanced perversion but sitting here writing about it actually brings me to physical pain.

If you watch this movie, I will be mad at you. Andy the Movie Man has laid a solid warning. Don’t watch this shit.

Still the best: Beck (Jeff, that is)

A review of the music video Jeff Beck performing this week... Live at Ronnie Scott’s

(available now on Blu-Ray and DVD)

UPDATE: Read this NYTimes article ... they must andythemovieman followers...

From our contributor GROOVEKING – The Music Man

I first saw Jeff Beck live in concert in the Tucson (Arizona) Civic Center – it was 1971. He’s been around that long and, apparently, so have I.

In 1965, when the flibbertigibbet Eric Clapton bolted from The Yardbirds, Beck replaced him. In 1966, they released an album entitled Roger The Engineer with guest guitarist Jimmy Page. In one band??? Over the years, I have been torn between these three guys as to who is the best living Rock ‘n Roll guitarist, having seen them all live and listened to most of their work. As I go back ‘n forth, it has remained an open question . . . until I watched this concert.

Recorded in 1080i High Definition Widescreen 16X9 (1.78:1) with a DTS HD Master Audio soundtrack, it looks and sounds as good as it gets. State of the Art. The nightclub setting and stage lighting give the tape a luscious colorful hue and the audio production was perfectly executed (especially due to the superb work of Engineer Alan Branch – not Roger). If you have a home theater system sportin’ big audio, this disc is a must have. Recorded in 2007 over several nights in the famous London Soho nightclub “Ronnie Scott’s” and then edited down to 191 minutes of material, you can hear people clapping behind you when listened to in 7.1 surround. Am I really 30 feet from the stage? The audience is full of London Rock ‘n Roll notables (Oh look, there’s Robert Plant. And two tables over, right there in the center, is that really the Jimmy Page?) It’s a small wonder that it was the hottest ticket in town during the week of these shows.

Beck’s four-piece band is killer, combining experience with youthful exuberance. They tightly navigate their way through Beck’s rock/jazz/blues fusion material. On drums is Vinnie Colaiuta (of Frank Zappa, Herbie Hancock and Sting fame), with Londoner Jason Rebello on keyboards (Sting again) and Australian bass phenom Tal Wilkenfeld. If you are unfamiliar with the 21-year old Wilkenfeld, she is a mesmerizing performer. Beck showers her with adoration all concert long and for good reason. Apart from very accomplished playing, her stage persona creates a camera magnet (frame count second only to His Majesty). See for yourself at talwilkenfeld.com. Guest vocalists Joss Stone (one song) and Imogen Heap (two songs) are exceptional. The best five-piece ensemble of the concert is the encore performance of Rollin’ and Tumblin’ with Heap. But the absolute star of the show is, of course, Jeff Beck.

I played guitar professionally for 10 years and then spent another 10 in production and I DO NOT KNOW HOW HE MAKES THOSE SOUNDS! I do know it’s not with pedals and electronic devices; it’s with his fingers, his Stratocaster, and his Marshall stack. He doesn’t even use a pick, for God’s sake. Fingers pickin’ and strumin’ on strings, pick-ups talkin’ to amp. Camera shots abound of fans in the audience (many pro musicians, for sure) going, “Wah? Huh?” He was using a bottleneck slide way up ahead of the neck on top of the pick-ups (where movements of about 1/32 of an inch equals a full note) without missing a note (literally). The late Les Paul, inventor of the guitar cutaway (that radical indent in the body up top of the neck that allows your hand to get way up there) is smiling somewhere because Jeff Beck’s hand lives in the cutaway. But when that hand comes running down the lower end of the neck, hold on to your seat. Heavy, heavier, heaviest . . . tasty, tastier, tastiest. There is nobody that compares or that I would rather listen to.

In fact, there was an encore guest appearance by Eric Clapton (what a treat for two songs). They traded licks. No contest. Not even close.

Content

Audio

Video

The Taking of Pelham 123

Jun 2009, Tony Scott, 106 mins (out on DVD Nov 3)

It’s hard for this reviewer to believe that anyone associated with the creation of The Taking of Pelham 123 would have been happy with the end result. The film is a thrill-less thriller with a $100 million budget. The first minute or two of Tony Scott’s remake had the quick cuts and shaky camera that is his style (see Man on Fire, Domino) and a small inkling of what an intense movie could feel like. However, over the next 100 minutes there was little to separate the film from a high school production created on a budget of $20.

Travolta does his normal bad guy thing (Face-Off, Broken Arrow) to an underwhelming note. Washington, the one and only “plus” of the film, does his part but his hero character isn’t given the range or scenes to pump any blood into the role. The original, starring Walter Mathau and Robert Shaw, couldn't possibly have been this bland.

Once Travolta’s Ryder character had taken control of the train, I kept waiting to care about the scenarios developing on screen. I wanted to route against him or feel for the captives but everyone was just too level. The film never sold me.

I honestly was dying to see what the twist was going to be. What character had been hiding a deep seeded secret and was going to flip the story on its head in a barrage of gun fire and lies... but nothing. There were hints of such a twist. Side stories and ideas were bounced around but never came to a head. I would have settled for a lame “there’s-no-way-that-really-would-have-worked” type of twist. But nothing. Just as time runs out in blowout basketball games, with the losing team never having a push for a comeback, this film went to the locker room with a slight whimper and its tail between its legs. A bore through and through.