Reviews written by registered user
|39 reviews in total|
For a scientifically-engineered super-dog that was supposed to be the
to petit crime, CHOMPS was a chump.
All I ever saw Chomps do was sit, or walk, or run. Or run, then walk, then sit... and then get back up again and stretch, and then walk, and then jog to K-Tel dance hits. And sometimes it had all the answers to the daily Jumbo. But mostly it just sat a lot.
All I am saying is: In a Celebrity Death Match, Chomps couldn't take out Mr. Bigglesworth.
Two quibbles though--
The Isle of Misfit Toys. They were all sent there because they had some malfunction or gross-deformity. The fish flew. The train had square wheels. There was a queeny-toy named Charlie-In-The-Box. All of their defects were plain & obvious. So:
What was wrong with the doll?
I can't figure it out. She had all 4 extremities. She had two eyes, a nose, a mouth and fabulous yarn hair. What was her damage? What made her such an unloved misfit? My sister Horabeth says that the dollie was a misfit because she didn't have boobies. But I counter that by insisting pre-school dolls *never* have boobies. Was it that she cried? Couldn't be. They make dollies that cry! Was it her outfit? Maybe. But a dollie in a really tacky jumper does not a misfit make!
I contend that there was absolutely NOTHING wrong with that doll. She must have went out ice-fishing one day and crashed upon that awful island with all those venomous, bitter, loser-toys who lied to her and turned her into a nut-case. It's just another example of the losers trying to bring the pretty people down. Jerks.
2nd quibble: Santa rescues all of the misfit-toys on Christmas Eve, packs them on his sleigh, and finds them all loving homes. That means a lot of kids got some broken-sh*t that year.
Is Santa saintly or sadistic?
Wren is a dirty birdie. A vagrant punkette skumbag who wears a checkered
vinyl mini-skirt with blue pantyhose and pink hi-top Converse.
Her only possessions are a busted-up portable TV and a trash bag full of
really scary dipsy-dumpster punk fashions (think Pat Benatar 1981 or
Brewster 1984). She looks stupid, acts stupid, and is stupid. She's my
Wren inadvertently wins the affection of this dorky kid with a big heart, who lives in his van and has really bad hair. This relationship functions because:
A) She's a filthy homeless mess, and he's got a van she can sleep in
B) He's into filthy homeless messes, and he's got a van she can sleep in
The dork doesn't understand why Wren lets him buy her drinks and then leaves the bar with other dorks. He keeps buying the drinks and pouts a lot. What a dork! Wren can't be bothered with the dork's unwanted advances and so she goes about stalking this skuzzy douche-bag who has a punk-band. And really bad hair.
All kidding aside, there are some touching moments in this film that kind of reach inside of you and warm your heart. Like when the dork lets the cracked-out hooker sit in his van because it's chilly outside, and in return she offers him a bee-jay and the tuna-sandwich her mom packed as a between-trick snack. That scene almost made me cry.
I love this movie so much that I had to go out and buy it. And I'm glad I did because now my sofa doesn't tip forward on that one side.
If Nancy Spungen was anything at all like Chloe Webb portrays her here, it's
no wonder Sid Vicious stabbed her to death. Did Nancy really behave like a
psychopathic toddler and speak with that Marlboro-throated screechy whine?
2 things happened after I popped this movie into the VCR and started watching--
1) My neighbor called and asked me to please turn it down. And it wasn't even that loud!
2) During Nancy's first tirade my roommate came out of his bedroom and asked, "What the *hell* are you watching?" I laughed knowingly.
And I thought Johnny Rotten was supposed to be THE original punk-spirit anti-estab badass? The way he's portrayed here makes him seem like the model of charm-school decorum and a certified puss.
Fun scene: Sid breaks up with Nancy and starts to stagger out of the hotel room. Nancy screams and cries and whines and yells, rolling around the skuzzy floor until she finally shouts to him, "SID!!! COME BACK! WE FORGOT TO DO THE FAREWELL DRUGS!!!"
"Farewell drugs". I love it. Those silly heroin addicts!
Another movie that aired about 10,000 times too many on cable. I'm not
exactly sure what audience I should recommend this to-- there's no
gratuitous sex or T & A. No witty dialogue on the trials of being a young
person. And nothing particularly screwball enough to qualify it as
screwball comedy. It's just kind of there. Like a man's nipples or
As far as I can tell, it's a movie about a cartoonist, a singer (note to Demi: don't quit the day job), a boat-race (always exciting, those boat-races are!) and a really deathly looking dog with a satellite dish around it's neck. Oh, and some sub-Family Circus animation.
This isn't good enough to be good, nor bad enough to be bad, it's the Cheerios of teen comedies. Although I must note, it's seriously teetering on the edge of Puffed Rice or Muslix with all those ultra-annoying Bobcat Goldthwait scenes. Are there really people out there that find this man funny? I mean, sober people?
The dog with one paw in the grave did make me laugh though. And so did the two ugly kids with the frozen faces. Eeeeeeek!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm luvin' high-school teenagers being played by actors who are clearly pushing 30. I'm luvin' skintight Sergio Valente flair-jeans and double, triple, quadruple feathered bangs. I'm luvin' luscious hot babes stuck in a movie with a severe shortage of dreamy studs. I'm luvin' the theme song with it's highly complex and hard-to-remember chorus: "Prom night, Everything is all-right!/Prom night, No need to be up-tight!"... (repeat)
Most of all... I'm luvin' "Prom Night" for the one scene that's a cinch to make the highlight reel at a Jamie Lee celebrity roast--
The dance scene! All 20 minutes of it! Watch as Jamie gets her groove on to the super-ultra-maxi-extended-remix of "Love Me Till I Die" (better known as "the song playing throughout the entire last 45 minutes of the film"). Go Jamie! Go Jamie! Go-go-go!
This flick is classic. I need a drink...
"I went to the movies, to see 'Beat Street' / it wasn't bad, it was
neat / 'Krush Groove' was a flick, that I didn't mind / but when it came
'Rappin', I drew the line." Word to your mother.
Want me to stop?
That's just a small sample of the stupa-fly style of rhymin' on display in this waste of film and location permits. This movie is seriously wack (thats 80s-speak for just f*cking awful). As an emcee, Mario Van Peebles is one hell of an actor. And as an actor, Mario Van Peebles is one hell of a bodybuilder.
Any film calling itself "Rappin'" had better deliver at that genre's highest standard of the time. So why were 6 year olds rolling in the aisles, even back in the day when standards were so knee-high-to-"Webster"-low? Because this rap is weak. So weak that not even B.E.T. or Comedy Central will touch it with a 10-foot gold-rope chain.
Blondie's "Rapture" is def poetry next to this bit of Dr. Suess in the hood. So don't be a boobie, avoid this movie!
It just cracks me right up when people mention "A Night in Heaven" and the
word "plot" in the same sentence. Yeeping yimminy, take a look at the box
cover! All they ever promised us was Chris Atkins in his Xanadu
disco-slut-wear, pulsating and gyrating and waving his goodies at the
camera. A male nudie flick. That's what they promised us, and that's what we
Mr. Blue Lagoon prances about the entire movie wearing nothing more than a cheap self-tanner and dental floss. The direction is nothing more than an endless string of tight close-up shots of Mr. Atkins' generously lathered nether-regions. Pure smut. That's what they promised us, and that's what we got!
Word of caution: This flick is where that "Obsession" song came from ("I will have you, yes I will have you..wah wah wah...") It's not the Animotion version either, it's, gasp ...even worse. It sounds like it was recorded at one of those amusement park "You be a Star!" karaoke-style "recording studios". Shudder.
But that's irrelevant. As is the acting, the cinematography, the editing, the lighting and most of all Lesley Ann Warren. "A Night in Heaven" is all about an oiled-down Atkins, a few clutzy dance moves, and a skimpy boy-toy thong. That's what they promised us, and that's what we got.
Before I dice this show to ribbons I would just like to say that I am a
card-carrying Margaretphile. Even still after seeing this. Now on with the
Beef #1-- The intro-segment was cute for about 60 seconds and then the damn thing just refused to crawl off and die. The interviews with Cho's family & friends weren't revealing enough to be interesting, nor inspired enough to be jocular. It's like, okay...we get the point already: Queens really dig Margaret Cho. Big newsflash there! The entirely overlong intro quickly becomes a tiresome chore, where instead of being amused, enlightened, or remotely interested... you just feel compelled to locate your DVD remote and pounce on the FF key. Just start the effin' show already. Yeesh.
Beef #2: Material-- Clearly the weakest she's had to work with to date. If "I'm The One That You Want" is a pair of Manolo Blahniks, then "Notorious C.H.O." is a pair of rubber slingback-wedges from a Rite-Aid clearance aisle. Raunch earns a few free laughs just for the brazen act of taking on the topic. After that, it has to earn the laughs on it's own and it just barely got a few minor chuckles from me. Perhaps it was funnier in person, it usually is.
Beef #3: Delivery-- Welcome to Margaret Cho's pause-a-thon. She never used to do this so blatantly. It's as if someone told her that the longer she pauses between each joke, the funnier the joke becomes. Uh uh. It's just annoying. And ineffective, unless the effect she's going for is built-up anticipation towards the next spectacularly-funny joke, which unfortunately never comes. So therefore, it's just ineffective and annoying. C'mon Margaret! Don't they teach that in Stand-Up 101?
LUV the box-cover though.
Greg Germann stole this show, not unlike his efforts on "Ally
Debra Messing was far less annoying here than she currently is on "that
show". Thomas Hayden Church was sublime as the me-centered womanizer he
illuminated with "Ned".
I do a polka of disgust when clever, acerbic comedies like "Ned & Stacey" meet an untimely death and crud like "Yes Dear" & "Good Morning Miami" live on. Tis a travesty.
This delightfully original series lived a micro-short life in syndication, but your chances these days of seeing it are about as likely as seeing a sequel to "Rabbit Test". It's a low down crying shame. First "Herman's Head", now this.
The verdict has been delivered by broadcast TV: Strip it of life, dress it up, make it palpable for the masses, and viola! Hit.
Long live "Ned & Stacey". R.I.P.
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