Godzilla, Satan, etc...

Because of Godzilla, I decided to breathe life back into RR Inc. for the zillionth time.  Not because of Godzilla, I haven't had much time to create content for this here blog.  I've been doing some (video) editing work, while simultaneously trying to curb my depression and enjoy life.  Ideally, I'd have just enough time and energy to comply with all three albatrosses.  You don't see "enjoying life" as a carking albatross, a zinc ballast (I don't know) tied to your ankles, like so many sandbags?  I do!

Speaking of Zillagod, my mommy bought the recent issue of Life that is dedicated to Big G for me.  I've just started to pore over it, but it's one hell of a compendium.  Granted, it's geared toward the genre novice, but it does contain tidbits that even I didn't know.  I advise picking it up.  Also, check out 1989's Satan's Storybook, a shot-on-video anthology that made me crack a smile or two.  It would have been the subject of my next review, but...well, y'know.  I am NOT giving up the site!  This was merely a life update.  I'll be back in a number of days.  High number?  Low number?  Um, right!

Geek Out #137

I had the Bull Alien.  Which one did you have, Timmy or Billy?

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

I liked 2014's Godzilla.  Is that okay?  I just want to make sure before I continue.  I reviewed it (poorly) upon its release, and I know that I didn't give it a perfect rating.  Because I concede that it wasn't perfect!  It wasn't quite the G-flick that fans wanted.  This year's Godzilla: King of the Monsters is the G-flick that fans - fuck it, I'll use the proper pronoun - we wanted.  It's the big-budget creature feature that we deserved.  I've seen others say that, and I'll admit that it sounds immodest, maybe even audacious.  But goddamn!  American kaiju carnivores have been waiting for DECADES to see this kind of monster mobocracy.  That was a pathetic display of alliteration.  I'm rusty, I suppose.

Sure, I can hang out with 1998's Godzilla on a goofy level, but there were no other "titans."  I've already said that I dug the G-bash from five years ago, but aside from the title star, there were no recognizable properties.  This son of a bitch threw three non-G Toho creations at us, and sweet fuck, they were divine.  Mothra?  Gorgeous.  A snack!  Rodan?  Badass.  He has never looked this intimidating.  King Ghidorah?  Jeeeeeeepers cunt.  It feels juvenile to use the word "terrifying" to describe anything in a Godzilla movie.  Friends, Monster Zero (and yes, it's referred to by this handle on more than one occasion) is terrifying.  The realistic special effects make it easy to imagine if Ghidorah were a corporeal being and it's a scary prospect.

Needless to say, Godzilla Vontavious Porter (don't tell him that I used his Christian name) looks fantastic.  The combination of CGI and motion-capture has been a wondrous thing for "giant beastie" reels, or at least the ones that haven't been hurried to video shelves.  The humans?  I was pleasantly surprised to find that the characters are considerably more fleshed out than they were in the original.  Now, that's not saying a hell of a whole lot.  I wasn't fucking moved to tears, but Millie Bobby Brown's Madison is agreeable.  She's just Eleven with longer hair, but still.  Kyle Chandler's performance as Mark is grounded.  If you don't blink, you'll catch a character arc (I know; I was astounded).  Mark's transmutation from Starchy Asshole to Temperate Padre feels natural.

I was bound to encounter flaws, but the only glitch that bothered me was the forced, bizarre employment  of humor.  We're stuck with a token "comedy relief" fellow, and I'm not talking about Thomas Middleditch.  His one-liners were tolerable.  That other guy.  Did he have a name?  He was given the most awkward dialogue, and none of it worked.  Thankfully, that's the sole wart I recall seeing after experiencing the eruptive, diverting fun of Godzilla: King of the Monsters.  The pace is snappy, the battle sequences are meteoric and the visuals...egads, give a damn hand to director Michael Dougherty.  Everything is beautiful.  The man has three grand slams under his belt, the preceding two being Krampus and Trick 'r Treat.  Keep at it, boy!

I don't feel like I've said enough, but I have a habit of driving points home with as few words as possible.  In all honesty, this film warrants a hundred paragraphs of praise.  Maybe write some of your own.  I can't do all the work!

Album Cover of the Whatever

It's back!  And thank Satan for that; I need a low-effort column.  Maybe you think I could have picked a better Mercyful Fate album cover.  That's subjective.  Maybe you think I could have picked a better Mercyful Fate album.  That's objective.  This isn't a long player proper, playa!  It's simply a compilation of b-sides and rare material.  While I detest the title font (I see they went with the "cheap paste" option), the artwork is a generic party.  As in Party City.  It's as dumb as a box of dumb, but it's fun!  It's cheese, it's Halloween, it's Subspecies II: Bloodstone, it's...you get the point.

A Cure for Wellness

After watching it back recently, I'd have to say that 1998's Gargantua isn't that bad.  It's very obvious, yes, and the CGI doesn't hold up, but it's agreeable enough to watch.  I don't know why you asked, though.  I thought I made it clear that this is a review of 2016's A Cure for Wellness, a picture that I pined for when it bedecked theaters.  This would have been a great flick to catch in theaters.  Alas, I wasn't able to make it out to the hippodrome.  Over six months since my last review, I can still use ridiculous words with the best of 'em.  Don't you refer to your local movie shack as a hippodrome?  You shouldn't.

Previews painted Wellness as a wholly unique experience.  And it is unique, but now that I've imbibed the film, it's a teensy bit more conventional than I was expecting.  In a disappointing way.  I'll get to the good stuff later (my opinion is broadly roseate), but everything felt vaguely Hollywood-by-numbers.  It's as though a studio executive was standing on the set, just off to the side, intercalating directives such as "Make the ending big!" and "She's the love interest!"  By the way, I don't know that Mia Goth was the nonpareil choice to play Hannah.  This is where I need to parlay plot details, isn't it?  Damn.

Dane DeHaan is Lockhart, a young upstart who is sent to Switzerland to bring his company's CEO back to America.  Apparently, Pembroke (the CEO) has stolen away to a sequestered rehabilitation clinic nestled in the Swiss Alps.  To get "well."  Ooooh, quotation marks!  That means something mysterious is happening!  Mysteriously!  Without diving into particulars, the sanitarium utilizes eels and gallons upon gallons of water.  It's totally legit.  Seriously, how does this place exist?  Aren't there codes and ordinances that would protect against the construction of a horror house such as this?  The town is cool with it?

The plot holes are noticeable, but let's put those aside for a minute.  Back to Hannah.  We are never told her exact age, but I swear to Jehovah's astragalus (it's one of the proximal bones of the tarsus, you monkey), the girl is barely pubescent.  Fourteen at the oldest.  The actress is older, but that doesn't matter.  She looks fourteen and yet, Wellness tries to pass her off as desirable.  The marked age difference between Hannah and Lockhart doesn't seem to rankle the film.  Ew.  The villain attempts to rape her and we see her breasts AND EW.  "Ew" is probably the point, and I get that.  It's just a very uncomfortable sit.

I liked this film?  Yeah, I guess so.  Gore Verbinski is a master of the visual arts.  Several images reminded me of his redux of The Ring, mainly the underwater shots of suspended bodies and furtive, double-dealing eels (I don't trust those creepy motherfuckers).  The cast is fine (nice segue, Dom).  Jason Isaacs should be the next James Bond.  Don't get me wrong; he's excellent here as a twisted doctor, but his gentility is quite winning.  Man, apart from this paragraph, this review isn't nearly as positive as I imagined it would be in my head.

Technically speaking, A Cure for Wellness is high-grade material.  I wanted to see how it ended, which is important.  Did the ending make sense?  Nope!  This is a lengthy feature, but it still feels as though scenes were truncated.  Robert Z'Dar says, "Give Gargantua another chance."

What the...? A video Blood Capsule?

I'm working on finishing up a (written!) movie review, but until the warm, flaky bun is out of the oven, please enjoy the first of a few seasonal videos highlighting a few seasonal movies.  Is there a dweller in your cellar?

Cripples ov Siberia

Hi!  Boy, my life has FUCKING SUCKED as of late, but I think I can find pockets of time to spend on this rinky-dink website.  It's October, after all.

I recently bought a few compact discs (a "CD" is an optical data storage format), and I realized something.  I'm done!  Sorry, bands.  I am finally done purchasing ringlets of music when half of the time - I'm not even kidding - the discs skip.  Brand new goddamn discs!  I have Alexa in my room, so with our Amazon Music Unlimited subscription, I can jam to almost any record.  No, this isn't a sponsored post.  I wish.

Between the bitch (Alexa), YouTube and Spotify, I'm alright in the metal department.  Look, I held out as long as I could.  Friends renounced ceedeez years ago, so I've been the old man out.  Not anymore!  I was moved to write on the topic after "spinning" I Loved You at Your Darkest, the latest Behemoth opus.  Man, it's a motherfucker.  I didn't go head over hooves for The Satanist, but this sick puppy does the trick.  It marks a seamless progression (and in some cases, amelioration) for the band, striking (dis)harmony between gruff death metal and forward-reaching black metal.

See you when I see you.

The High Ate Us

I've been thinking a lot about...life. lolz  Life, maaaaaan.  Time and how it's perceived.  That doesn't make a lick of sense, but basically, I need to work on other stuff.  Non-website stuff.  You know where this is going.  I hesitate to use the word "'hiatus" because that implies that I'll be back at some point.  And I might!  I don't want to scare anyone, but I'm fucking 33 years old.  That's human years!  I need to switch shit up.  If I do decide to come back for the fifth time, I'll let people know.  I'll let you know, bro!