the eXile - Krazy Kevin's Kino Korner

Issue #10/91, May 25 - June 8, 2000

2 Breasts, 2 Bros, No Roman Testes

For this week’s big-dick new release, Gladiator, we’re all gonna have to rely on what Taibbi told me—cuz there was no way in hell I was going to sit through a thespo-heavy quasi-old school Roman epic in its dubbed version… at least not while suffering through some hard-core lomki.

So anyway, here’s the deal: thumbs up for the 20-minute-long opening battle scene, which is genuinely kick-ass. Same goes for proto-British-acting types Richard Harris and Derek Jakobi, both of whom earned their paychecks on this one.

Not so thumbs up to the digital effects gearheads, who still haven’t learned how to make a CGI that doesn’t appear translucent. Other problems: manages to make Roman political intrigue seem exceedingly boring; most fight scenes are unsatisfying. Also, where’s the sex? These are supposed to be Romans, aren’t they?

All in all, the perfect vehicle for washed-up visionary director Ridley Scott and Beigist thinking man’s action her Russell Crowe. A would-be classical epic with this much hype behind it has no business playing like a made-for-TV cop drama. Note to Ridley Scott: you need to shave your goddamn beard!

Now Steven Soderbergh’s latest, ERIN BROCKOVICH, raises more interesting questions—not least of all because I’ve actually seen the movie.

This one’s basically a replay of the David & Goliath legal drama A Civil Action, except with the John Travolta part played by Julia Roberts’ tits in a specially designed Wonderbra. Of course, the other main difference is that Julia Roberts’s tits win in the end. On its face, this would appear to be a no-brainer. Certainly Julia Roberts’ tits are more powerful than a corporate monolith such as Pacific Gas & Electric (California’s version of the Chubais-run RAO UES Rossii, for those not from the area) any day of the week. But what about this same pair of tits when supposedly attached to some single-mothering trailer-trash piece of shit with poor fashion sense. Well, that raises some slightly more complex issues. As in, how do we forget that it’s Julia Roberts’ tits up their on the screen? Can Julia Roberts play trailer trash?

The short and simple answer is No, of course not. And of course Julia Roberts wins in the end, tits or no tits.

Not that it matters a bit one way or another. I mean, how do you discredit a regional electricity monopoly, especially the regional electricity monopoly that happens to be powering the raging dot-conomy? Who gives a fuck if PG&E gave a bunch of desert mutants cancer back in the 1970s? I want my goddamn Palm Pilot, ya know what I mean? Of course you do.

For all those who didn’t get the message first time around, repeat after me: I want my Palm Pilot. You’re dern tootin’.

On a largely irrelevant note, motorcycle enthusiasts can enjoy a great big belly laugh at the hysterically miscast Aaron Eckhart, complete with bushy sideburns, hideous goatee, and way-too-clean leather vest.

Pop quiz to all casting directors: if you need a dickless, attention-starved, non-bike-riding biker surrogate mom character, do you cast the main asshole from In the Company of Men underneath fifteen pounds of facial hair? No, you do not.

Next, please.

Okay, that leaves us with Brat 2. Personally, I’m sick and tired of reading all these faux-positive, but ultimately dismissive Russian reviewers who ignore the merits of this particular film and simply view it as a positive occurrence that Russian film finally has a successful sequel. Fuck that. Problem Child 2 made tons more money than Brat and Brat 2 will ever make combined. What does that tell you? Nothing much, except that—in spite of everything—John Ritter can still afford the rents in Hollywood.

So what to do then, with this little Russian movie, which just happens to be a sequel. OK, so maybe it’s not quite as good as the original. And yes, it does seem a bit redundant. Nevertheless, it is far better than any other Russian movie to come out in the last eighteen months, and more entertaining than most of the films to come from anywhere in the world so far this year.

But are the retarded Russian critics happy with that? No, of course they are not. They’re all too busy sucking each other’s dicks about the fact that Russia finally has a fucking sequel.

Here’s a newsflash to every last one of you pretentious nitwits: if Russia ever gets the kind of “healthy” film industry you’re constantly wet-dreaming about, you can bet that a film like Brat 2 (let alone the original Brat) would never get made in it. And even if it did, you wouldn’t deign to write a thing about it. You’d all be too busy gushing about the ground-breaking visual effects in The Barber of Siberia Episode 1: The Phantom Tsarist. You fucking morons… every last one of you.

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