Hold Steady, New York City!

While I'm headed to the opposite coast, the Hold Steady show their affection for the Big Apple in this sweet series of rooftop jams, courtesy of Pitchfork:

They don't sound quite as sick as they do on the new album, but imagine walking down the street only to have your socks rocked off by Craig Finn & Company, serenading you with songs about deuce cruces from a soaring skyscraper. Now that, as Murry would say, is "pretty rock 'n roll."

I missed these guys at Pitchfork a few weeks back and have been lashing myself Scarlet-Letter-style ever since! I even have the initials HS carved into my chest with bloody carnage, just because I couldn't afford the tiny little text etched into my neck that said "Jesus lived and died for all your sins." But we've all heard that song before, and I think you still get the metaphor...

Alright, I'll stop quoting lyrics and lay it out. These guys rock. I caught them last year at the Metro but ONCE IS NOT ENOUGH. Check out the new album Stay Positive, and then you'll finally understand that when I say "Dyer Maker," you should probably laugh 'cuz it's a joke about Jamaica.

(She always found a ride back home from the bar...)

Questionable Choice?

In honor of all the Johnny Depp movies I've been watching recently, fate decided to tie up a couple loose ends and collide my favorite pastimes.

Now Depp & Batman can finally be one.

Is this the beginning of the knock-down drag out Jim Carrey/Johnny Depp dance-off we've all been waiting to see?

Sources indicate: Undoubtedly.

Faster Moviecat! Kill! Kill!

I just saw this movie called "Funny Games". It looks like this.

The movie is written and directed by Michael Haneke, the guy who delivered the brutally tense Cache a couple years back. You could say that Funny Games is a little more upbeat and coherent than that film, but let's not go crazy. Funny Games is demented. It has some of the most horrifying imagery I've ever seen on film. That being said, it's also one of the best thrillers I've ever experienced. It's as psychologically manipulative as Silence of the Lambs but decidedly more intimate. Haneke's long-shots suck you in and refuse to let you blink, leaving you to cringe in anticipation for the torturous events yet to unfold. I watched it once yesterday, horrified the whole time, then recommended it to a friend and ended up watching it again today. I'll say this-- it's not as scary when you know what's about to happen, or if you fail to take the full leap into Haneke's world. But it is still a well-shot captivating thrill-ride of a movie. And I highly recommend it to anyone over sixteen with a pulse.

Speaking of thrill-rides, I also caught Pineapple Express earlier today. Apatow's done it again. I don't know how he's cornered the market on comedy, but he keeps nailing them out of the park (Drillbit Taylor excluded). Pineapple Express is an action/weed/buddy-comedy that simultaneously nods to and demolishes the conventions of its predecessors. It's the American Hot Fuzz, but more compact and less reverent. What's nice about Apatow's universe is that his characters defend their unique senses of morality against conventional standards. Knocked Up is about the beginnings of an unconventional family. 40-Yr Old Virgin is about a character whose unconventional behavior causes an outrage amongst his friends. In Pineapple Express the questionable content ranges from Seth Rogen dating an 18-year old girl to the copious amounts of marijuana smoked by both Rogen and co-star James Franco. While the movie makes a fairly hilarious case for the dangers inherent in both of those sweet sweet vices, it never openly condemns them. Rather it takes the apathetic and easy-going stance of all the moral lessons in the Apatow universe: as long as nobody's getting arrested and everything is chill, there's not much to complain about.

I can't recommend this movie enough. It's a stunning homage to all buddy cop comedies, but mostly it's a love song to bad 90's blow-em-ups. There was a surprising amount of violence in the movie (maybe tying it with Funny Games??!) but the tone is mostly amicable. David Gordon Green directs in a compromise between Apatow's point-and-shoot method and the over-the-top melodrama of 90's gun movies. The result is non-stop laughs and a decent amount of pseudo-gay male bonding.

I caught Pirates of the Carribean 3 earlier too. It sometimes gets maligned for being on the butt-end of a trilogy (a common and pitiable fate shared by the cinematic triumph Spider-Man 3) but I think once you get past the first hour or so of exposition, it delivers in a major way. Gore Verbinski has a talent for crafting incredible computer-generated effects that feel real and interactive. The vividness of the imagery he uses is almost tactile. Regardless of the setting, Verbinski's chief skill is his attention to detail in the mise-en-scene, to the point where every shot is sensory. It's what helped make the Ring so creepy and made the Pirates universe such a fun place to visit. That's a notoriously difficult task. Think how many terrible horror movies are ruined by bad visual effects, bad lighting, poor storyboarding. The only real downfall I ever have with the Pirates universe is that when the characters are taking themselves too seriously, it sometimes becomes less fun to imagine yourself in their shoes. It's part of the reason I think the Star Wars prequels are less engaging than the originals. The audience wants to see characters having fun in ridiculous surroundings, not sorting paperwork. Not that a Pirate Council isn't immensely more fun than a dry-as-prohibition Jedi Council meeting, but for God's sakes, I came for adventure! Not conversations about adventure. By the third act, once all of the plot pieces are in motion the visuals take hold and collide in some brilliant and spectacular ways. Everything from Davy Jones' tentacles to the explosive sea storms look authentic and mesmerizing at the same time. I hate it when I can tell a CG-effect isn't practical. It takes me out of the universe to recognize that everything but the actor is digitally added, even if it's an interesting shot. Verbinski blends reality and fiction so well visually, I can't tell where the 'real world' begins or ends. That's impressive.

Similarly visually impressive was Tim Burton's recent musical Sweeney Todd. Although most of the effects in that movie are practical, and as far as Burton's design style goes par for the course, it's still an engaging and morbid romp powered by its performances. I know a lot of musical snobs give the movie shit for not using trained singers, but if any of them can fault the brilliance of Sasha Baron Cohen's performance, they're mental. The movie is consistently dark and funny, which is nothing new for Burton, but I couldn't imagine anyone else handling the material better. Mostly I was intrigued by the story structure. Most musicals are so sugar-coated and jazzified that they fail to understand compelling narrative. Sweeney Todd is beautiful and tragic and extremely well-structured. No character is unnecessary and everything falls neatly into place. In less skilled hands the whole thing could be insanely campy, and I am thankful that Burton embraced the story's darkness rather than poking fun at it.

All in all, a pretty good crop of movies these past few years. Yup, yussir. Looks like I'll keep seein' em.

Titillating.

You know when people make gross exaggerations and say things like, "this is going to set the women's rights movement back 100 years!"

I think this is what they were talking about.

I'm not sure if this was broadcast on air, but there is no doubt that it is literally the worst thing ever. Worse than AIDS? Yeah. It's worse than AIDS. And now that you've watched it, you're a carrier. Your computer has slept with every single other computer that's had its dick crushed by Busty Heart. And whether you want to believe it or not America, that's a whole lotta dick.

When I met Zak Snyder this weekend, he warned me of one thing. "Just don't get into male porn," his words echoed. I knew then and there that cruel fate had placed a destiny upon me. "I'm not ruling anything out," I replied. He laughed heartily, and said, "With that kind of attitude you'll be fine." But I wouldn't be fine.

Not until I became a Male Porn Star.

MATT SHORE: JOURNEY TO BECOME A MALE PORN STAR

PART ONE:

THE PRE-CUM

Zak Snyder thinks that he can tell people who can become a male porn star and who can't. Well, guess what Snyder?! You're not my father. Yeah, that's right-- I fuckin' said that. In fact, why don't you eat a carrot, old man! I hear those are good for your vision. What's that? You're not even that old? What a clever trick, Mr. Senile! Why don't you go back to your bedpan, or do you have to digitalize it into slow motion CG first before your archaic brain can understand it?

Alright, alright, I need to cool out. My apologies. I did not mean the slights to Zak Snyder's character. I was merely vocalizing a lot of pent up Rage that's been building since this Saturday's Rage Against the Machine concert. There were a lot of people shoving in the front row. Tom Morello looked unphased. It was then, as I was getting the shit kicked out of me by frat boys and desperately trying to protect the poor short people who'd mistakenly gotten within fifty feet of the central pit, I realized something: My body was made for male porn. Cut it, fold it, silk it, smooth it. I glisten. I am like Jesus if Jesus had a great body. I am what a normal person thinks of when they fantasize in the mirror. Sometimes when I'm making love, the supermodel I'm making love to will admit she is fantasizing about someone. When I ask her who, she always says, "Matt Shore."

This is why it is so hard for me to accept Zak Snyder's criticism. It was startling that he didn't immediately recognize me from when I remember him calling me and being like, "Yo, Matt-dawg (he totally talks like this)...LOOK. I need you to play my head ass kicker for the Spartans. It might be tough, he is a lot weaker than you and probably couldn't beat nearly anyone at Smash Brothers. Do you have what it takes? (which is bullshit because 'of course')" I paused and I said, "Listen Snyder. I loved Dawn of the Dead save the gay zombie baby. Loved it. Save the baby." I paused to hear him breathing heavily into the phone on the other end. "But you'll have to forgive me, when I say no." He grunted here. "Because," I continued, "I am secretly on an underground mission from the Pentagon fighting the space gnomes." Which was a total burn because I was just cooking lunch, and he knew it, because he could hear the twinkies grilling from the phone. And if it's anyone you should be worried about, it's the Reptiloids, not the Space Gnomes.

So Zak pretended like we were meeting for the first time when I met him. That's cool, I know you wanted to save face in front of your entourage, but please, if you'd like me to pimp your shit on my blog. Just say so. In fact, this entire end paragraph will just be a link to the Watchmen trailer. It's no big deal, Snydes. I'd sell this shit all day long. It's that good. It tastes like butter. I'd sell it to my momma if she still had arms. But look at this stuff and tell me that it's not so good it's pornographic. What I think is, Zak Snydelywhiplash doesn't want me honing in on his turf.

No dice, Slip-n-Snyde. Grease up the fluffer, because this shit just went pro.

And for the people smart enough to read this on blogspot, here we go embedded:

100 Posts, 100 Reasons for Madness

Greetings, all! You are currently reading the 100th blog post in my long and tenured tradition of sporadic updates. To commemorate this occasion, I have much to share with you: Transcripts and memories from my recent trip to the San Diego Comic-Con, wild stories from the mosh pits at Chicago's Lollapalooza, and of course more comedy jokes about my thrilling and devastatingly empty-pocketed journey to Los Angeles. These are all forthcoming, either residing in rough draft in my brain or notebook, and I shall be sharing them with you in between the madness of packing up my life for a cross-country expedition. But until then, I'd like to call your attention to this monstrosity.

Has Meet Dave taught us nothing? Why must this man go forth and transform human intelligence into silly putty? Alas, there is no answer. But look forward to "Eddie Murphy/Romeo & Juliet Project" coming soon to a theater near you (for two weeks).

At San Diego Comic-Con I had the distinct honor of witnessing the 20th Anniversary Reunion of Mystery Science Theater 3000, hosted by Patton Oswald. The entire cast was there, including Mike-era Crow T. Robot, Bill Corbett. Imagine my shock to learn that Corbett was 50% of the cinematic dream team that belched Meet Dave's screenplay into existence. To be fair, even he seemed embarrassed by the outcome. "...I'm currently writing screenplays that, UNFORTUNATELY, do get made into movies," quoth the Corbett while sadly averting his eyes. It seems that years of watching bad movies paves a career of...well, creating bad movies I suppose! Even if you're a certified gold-medal riffer, you realize that La-La Land can change a half-decent idea into a hulking steaming terd. Be careful out there, aspiring writers! It's not a safe place for the insecure! Have confidence in your ideas, but I'd say, more confidence in revision. After all, practice makes perfect, and who knows your stuff better than you?

It's hard as hell to get a movie made, but it's even harder to get a movie made worth making. I wouldn't put all my eggs in one basket, but you can't leave your eggs half-boiled either. Every project deserves some polish, and it's important to know that when you're finished, you've done everything you can to make it work. It's not enough to have tired hands and a weary brain. You have to know your work is done.

That's not to shame Bill Corbett in any way. He's an incredible performer and a clever comedian. Sometimes projects just get cruddy, and sometimes writers need to survive. It can't always be art, but the least it can be is entertainment. As a creator, it's your job to make it so, number one. Even if the outcome is, well, number two.

We Need to Sit Down in Our Thinkin' Chair and Think, Think, Think.

I always thought that the Riddler was a pretty good villain, especially in his many ridiculous televisual incarnations. That is, until I stumbled across this hilarious deconstruction of the character by noted Internet satirist Seanbaby. He might be an interesting character, but yeah, nobody's going to put you on a team of evil villains if you keep leaving a trail of clues to their secret hideout. It's just common sense.

Or is it?

These poor schmoes got a little bit tuckered out after their robbery and decided to take a nap. Lucky for them, their newly stolen goods provided them with all the somniferous comforts they could ask for. Too bad they fell asleep seconds away from the crime scene, leaving the cops ample time to close the case, rest their weary feet and ponder, "When is a retard like a writing desk?"

If you're not fans of Carroll, maybe this classic from Tolkien will captivate your wit:

This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town
And beats high mountain down.

Text me with the answer and win a free trip to a local ice creamery of your choosing. But text me wrong, and Gotham's toy factory is history! Speaking of which, tick-tock, tick-tock! You have 24 Hours.

(I'll give you a hint: It's not Rosie O'Donnell when she's hungry.)

We Need to Do Something About these Facebook Ads

Facebook just showed me a picture of a chubby pensive girl and asked me if I needed pregnancy advice. I'm guessing the implication is that when a girl gets pregnant, it's basically a coin-toss as to the fate of the child, like every womb is its own personal Thunderdome. Even if the abortion debate weren't angry and loud-mouthed enough to have people casting ballots for the sake of assimilation, I think it's pretty unscrupulous to assume that a young woman, emotionally and physically knocked up, would turn to the CIA's number-one spying tool for personal advice about her baby-killing needs.

Let's face it: these advertisements have gone too far. I hate to think that my age group is being targeted, that my personal information is being data-farmed to coincide with mindless sidebar pop-ups but it's obviously the case. When you're logging into facebook, updating your favorite movies and quotes and sharing pictures of your friends and family, there's always a corporation watching over your shoulder and taking careful note. That's not to say that their motives are necessarily sinister. Most of the time it's the same capitalistic bullshit that television and magazines have prepped us for for years. But there's something sick about the way we're catering to them, feeding our information into the system then letting it rest there for the corporate giants to binge on like the world's largest buffet line. And I mean the bad kind of 'sick,' not the Dave Collins kind. At this point, there's really no way to stop it except to speak out. I try to make it clear these days that my use of Facebook is purely coincidental. I tried writing my updates on stone tablets and throwing them through my friends' windows, but after a few weeks of broken glass and elbows I realized the convenience of the utility. There were a few months where I bucked the trend and went Facebook-free, but all it warranted was a million empty comments like "You didn't know about that? It was on Facebook!" to the point where my rebelliousness felt more impotent than poignant.

My only warning is to share yourself with caution. There's a lot of nasty people out there. Hell, I'm one of them. As soon as someone posts something that I find ridiculous, I'm the first one to e-mail it to my friends and start belittling. The gilded veil of anonymity provided by the internet is as compelling as it is illusory; we hope people are reading, but at the same time assume we can get away with anything because, really, who's paying attention? There's too much internet to monitor it all!

Catch this salmon and smoke it. This young man thought he could almost kill somebody and then make a clever joke out of it! Whoops, he got Facebook-Fucked! That's right folks, your internet info can be used to send you to the clink, and I ain't talkin' Hogans Heroes!

So don't end up like that douche. Remember that your personal profile is like your persona. You don't need to share everything. Especially at Northwestern, most of you people are geniuses when it comes to closeting your emotions and putting up fronts. Maybe keep that same interpersonal restraint on the web too, huh? (And just for future reference, try being more social in person. It'll cut back on the time you spend on Facebook anyway, dummy.)

Am I Going Bats?

My friend Kat called me today and said we should hang out, since we hadn't seen each other in months. She asked me if I wanted to see the Dark Knight. I said yes.

I know what you're thinking: Matt, you're crazy. It's true, I've seen The Dark Knight once per day since it's release. Hell, I'd see it again tomorrow. I'm three-for-three so far, why not make it four? I love the movie. I absolutely love it. It's dark and pensive and non-stop. In terms of movies based on comic books, it is unlike anything I've ever seen. In terms of regular movies, it's paced brilliantly and barely lets you blink between sequences. It fires on all cylinders and hasn't bored me for an instant.

Don't let this baby pass you by. It's eloquently scripted and masterfully shot. I can't say more without babbling right now. Maybe more tomorrow.

Swing Bat-ta-Bat-ta

Just got back from round two with The Dark Knight.

All those qualms I previously posted are safely put to rest.

This baby's a classic.