Knife

How do you prepare a crowd for a wicked movie?

Kirk — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 01:55:00 -0400

I posed a very simple question in the title of this review.

The answer is very simple — Be sure to have a wicked suit-up scene during the opening credits.

"It's Not War, It's Just An Excercise In Teamwork And Tactics"

Dennis — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 21:18:21 -0400

I'm breaking the laws of this site and possibly putting my ass in the sling with the cruel and unforgiving webmaster that is Kirk Clawes. I'm reviewing a scene from a TV show. But dammit, this isn't just any TV show. And dammit, it's worth it!

Who knew a bow & arrow could be so destructive?

Dennis — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 21:39:29 -0400

Jesus, this movie came out in 1985!? Am I really getting that old? I can remember seeing this in the theater with my family, and thinking it was the greatest site mine eyes hath ever behold. What kid didn't want to be John Rambo after this movie? What kid didn't want to hide in a tree, in the middle of a thunderstorm, and then shoot his neighbor with a bow and arrow and then watch him explode? (not saying I did this of course...)

The Prototype Suit-Up Scene

Kirk — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 00:46:05 -0500

This suit-up scene is so epic, I don't even know where to begin.

First off, I'd like to say that this is to me, the prototype suit-up scene. In fact, this is the suit-up scene that inspired me to create this site. As a kid, Commando was easily one of my favorite movies. This is Schwarzenegger at his best. Everything about his character, John Matrix, is what a growing boy wants to be.

Who Knew Butchers Were So Bad Ass?

Kent — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 16:23:55 -0400

When you think of your local butcher you probably think of a fat italian guy with a stained apron behind the counter of a small counter, cutting up meat. In the case of Leon in The Midnight Meat Train, we see the wimpiest man become the baddest butcher of all... the human butcher.

Walking into the cold dirty meat packing warehouse, where his enemy has been working for so long, Leon (Bradley Cooper) finds his tools, and almost instinctively knows how to use them and wear them, despite being a vegetarian his whole life.

The Suit Up Scene Your Mother Doesn't Want You Hangin' Around With

Kevin — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 18:59:00 -0400

You remember that guy in high school? He was maybe a little older. A little older yet still in your grade. He was mysterious. Dangerous. A genuine badass. He was cool. And if by some miracle he excepted you as a friend, you’d be cool too. The younger kids would find you mysterious. Girls would dig you, too.

Fight for Your Right to Hunt Crights!

Brian James — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 17:15:07 -0400

"Critters, Crights!"

This simple utterance from the Other Bounty Hunter (not Ug who takes the form of 80's rocker Johnny Steele but the one with an identity crisis that keeps shape shifting) sums up the spirit of this tepid suit-up scene.

A Revolution Without Dancing is a Revolution Not Worth Having

Cody — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 08:59:38 -0400

Next time you think about voting, don’t. For anything. It won’t make a difference. Trust me, I’ve seen the future and we’re all screwed. Don’t believe me? Then take a look at 2005’s "V for Vendetta" and behold a near future where the former-US, along with the rest of the world, is devastated by war and economically defunct.

Only England prevails.

How Sharp is Your Kukris?

Cody — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 23:49:01 -0500

Well goddamn.

If there was ever one thing that could be more beautiful than watching a horde of wobbly-legged zombies eat their way through a bus-load of third-graders, it would be watching a Ukrainian-born model in a highly impractical, yet aesthetically pleasing nomad-chic ensemble chop off their undead heads with a set of twin Nepalese blades.

Suiting up for the organezized 187, courtesy existential crisis, OR: how's life in the pimp business? Suck on this!

Tina — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 16:49:25 -0500

Soren Kierkegaard had a theory about the angst-rich idea of identity, the malcontent and drudgery that made T. Yorke want to explode. "Ceasar or nothing!" yells his metaphorical man, a man who so desparately wants to be not-himself that the mere existence he lives as himself screws grief to the seat of his drawers. He longs for this most lofty of titles as his most swayed opposite, the most extreme version of his would-be self (all the better for the histrionics, my dear); his lack breeds a despair that creates a "disrelationship" between the self and the concept of self.