Grumpy Movie Review: The Last Airbender

God this movie was lame. As a fan of the show on Nickelodeon I was excited at the idea of a movie adaptation, but as soon as I found out M. Night Shyamalan was directing I had reservations. And then when I read that pretty much every reviewer was basically calling the movie a steaming pile of dogshit, I didn't even want to bother seeing it. But Mrs. Grump-to-be, as the one who got me into the show in the first place, was still hopeful that it could be good, so we gave it a shot. Our hope was that the reviewers who hated the movie either didn't really watch the show, or were just continuing the tradition of bashing any M. Night Shyamalan movie that isn't The Sixth Sense (which, I must say, I disagree about when it comes to Unbreakable and The Village, which I thought were really good). After seeing the movie, I must say that Shyamalan lived up to the expectations....The Last Airbender was pretty much a steaming pile of dogshit.

I could get into what all the other reviewers said and point out the awful dialogue, the stiff acting, and the overuse of exposition, but I think what it comes down to is that Shyamalan seems to have missed what made the TV show so good in the first place: the balance of an interesting plot with the silly tone of a story that doesn't take itself too seriously. The TV show never forgot that it was a kid's show, and while the movie stays true to the events of the plot, it winds up getting lost up its own ass trying to be an epic masterpiece. These delusions of grandeur lead to some pretty cool special effects, but they basically had the same effect as putting sugar on top of a steaming pile of dogshit.

The one saving grace for the movie was the performance by Dev Patel as Prince Zuko. Personally, when the movie was first announced I was hoping they would cast the guy who did the voice for the TV show, Dante Basco, who you might know better as Rufio! Rufio! Ru! Fi! OOOOOOOOOOO! Granted he's in his 30s at this point, but if you look at his picture on IMDB you'll see that he could easily still play a teenager. But, since they didn't go with him, I must say I was glad to see Patel get the job. He was so damn earnest in Slumdog Millionaire, and that carries over into his portrayal of Zuko.

Unfortunately, M. Night Shyamalan's (perhaps misplaced) confidence in his ability to make movies lead him to only address the first season of the show, with a lot of the plot left open for him to make a couple of sequels. If the movie makes enough money where he does have the opportunity to continue the franchise, I can at least take solace in the fact that Dev Patel will continue to get work.

Grade: D

Hurrah For New Banners!

I really wasn't digging the bland look that my blog title had so I utilized my 3rd grade-level publisher skills to whip up a new one. What do you think? Better? Worse? I have too much time on my hands?

Louis C.K. Brings His Jovial Disposition To FX

I stayed up until midnight last night to watch Louis C.K.'s new show on FX called, appropriately enough, Louie. For me, staying up past 10:30 is damn near sacrilegious, but I've been looking forward to Louie ever since I saw the first promo for it.



I'd seen a few episodes on HBO of his first sitcom, Lucky Louis, and it was pretty funny. Unfortunately it only lasted one season, so I was happy to see Louis get another go around. Plus, I wanted to see how someone who uses the word "fuck" as a conjunction would manage on basic cable. Just to clarify, I am NOT one of those people who think comedians who can be funny without swearing are inherently better than comedians who do swear. And to be honest, people who make that point make me want to punch their dick out the back of their fucking ass. Unless your audience is a group of 4 year olds, who gives a rat's ass if you can be clean or not? Funny is funny, no matter how you get there. But I would like to see how many takes Louis ruined by using one of his favorite words, which let's just say rhymes with "runt."

So last night's premier was a back to back event, giving us not one but two episodes on it's very first night. The premise is fairly straight forward, with clips of Louis' stand up paving the way for a segment associated with the stand-up bit. In the pilot, this made the show seem a bit slapped together, which I didn't really dig until this morning when I read that Louis did with The A.V. Club where he explains that was pretty much his intention. He's not going for a real story arc that you find in most sitcoms, but rather putting together strings of short set pieces. In the second episode, he sticks with the set piece mentality but begins to string things together just a bit more. Looking back on the show after reading the interview, I think I can appreciate Louis' premise a bit more and I'm interested to see how it pans out in the future.

If nothing else, I can recommend this show to people who are already familiar with his stand-up work. The only warning I'll give is that while Louis C.K. does a really good job at finding humor in bleak situations in his stand up, you may find the dark nature of his material a bit more pronounced when you see it acted out. But, on the bright side, last night he capped the premier with a stand up bit about putting his dog to sleep as a kid, and then having a dream where the dog came back to life and came home, only to have to be put back to sleep. Yay! Seriously, though, it's a hell of a lot funnier than it sounds when I explain it. For a great example of Louis at his best, watch the clip below as he talks about his kids, and if you like it then you'll probably like the show.

Take the Edge Off with Toy Story 3, or Grumpy Movie Review: Toy Story 3

Yet again I post a late version of Take the Edge Off, this time due to a big graduation party for Mrs. Grump-to-be's cousins, of which I believe she has about 30 or 40. After getting back we didn't really want to do anything in the 95 degree heat, so we went to catch Toy Story 3. This is a slight shift from my posts about Nightmare on Elm Street and Phantasm, and yes I usually tend towards the violent/gory/dark/adult/raunchy/more violent movie genres, but Mrs. Grump-to-be has been a good influence on me in terms of expanding my theatrical palette. Our first date was a drive-in that was playing Madagascar, and in the 5 years since I've seen pretty much every major animated release (except Wall-E for some reason), and I have to admit they are a lot of fun and make for a good balance to my usual fare.

I was a bit concerned about Toy Story 3, however, but only because it's rare that the third installment of any movie is ever good. Shrek 3 was pretty sub par, and while I haven't seen it I have yet to meet anyone who said Spider-Man 3 was anything more than a crime against the first two movies. So, I was a bit tentative about how entertaining it could be to watch Woody, Buzz, and the rest of Andy's toys deal with the conflicts that arise from being toys yet again. Plus, I'd only seen bits and pieces of Toy Story 2, and there is a large part of me that views watching movies out of sequence as sacrilegious. But Mrs. Grump-to-be had been itching to see it for a while and the reviews were all really good so I gave it a try, and was rewarded by a great movie.

While the overall production value of all animated movies has increased at an amazing rate, I think what I like the most about Pixar movies is that, no matter what the topic, I am in for a display of epic grandeur. In the case of Toy Story 3, the whole film takes place in a small portion of a small town, yet as Woody and Co. find themselves accidentally donated to the local daycare center as Andy prepares for college, the movie takes on the characteristics of great escape movies like... well, The Great Escape, I suppose. All you have to do is replace asshole fascist nazis with asshole fascist toys. Suddenly, a thrown-away toy is a casualty of war, and to be honest it actually made me feel bad for all of the toys that I've thrown away over the years. But then I remember it's a goddamn toy and it doesn't have feelings or Tom Hanks' voice. But still...what if they did?

Returning to the topic of trilogies, I think the best thing that Toy Story 3 has going for it is that it was comfortable with ending the series on a satisfying note without forcing an overblown finale or deliberately leaving the door open for another movie. I'm guessing that since Pixar usually seems to have a handful of irons in the fire (I hear that Cars 2 is on the way) they don't need to milk a franchise until it becomes stale. Again, I need to mention about how Shrek 3 screwed the pooch. So the writers for Toy Story 3 had the luxury of making sure they did this thing right, which they very much did. When the end credits started to roll, none of the characters fates are left hanging, and no questions are left unanswered. And, better yet, they were all answered well.

Whether part of a trilogy or not, few animated films do well if they don't include a lot of great laughs, and Toy Story 3 did not disappoint. The main characters all hit of their notes, including a fantastic scene with a "Mr. Tortilla Head," but the stand-out for me was a metrosexual Ken doll voiced by Michael Keaton. This may just be a personal thing for me, however, as I just like the idea of Michael Keaton getting more good work. He's one of those underrated actors who has a lot of great roles under his belt like Johnny Dangerously (why, hello there, future Take the Edge Off post), Batman, and, of course:

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Unfortunately, Keaton seems to have fallen off the radar a bit lately, but with his turn as Ken and an upcoming role in the Mark Wahlberg/Will Ferrell buddy comedy movie The Other Guys, maybe Keaton is building towards a comeback.

At this point it shouldn't be too much of a surprise when Pixar releases a good movie, but this was the first time they'd gone back to the same story for a second time, which is a task that has proven to be too much for many other good writers/directors. However, with Toy Story 3, Pixar avoided the pitfalls of a trilogy-ender and gave Andy's toys a great send off. Hopefully Cars 2 does well so that, finally, we can see the Incredibles sequels that Mrs. Grump-to-be and I have been waiting for since the last one ended.

Grade: A-

Grumpy's Tax Odyssey

In June of 2007, I had just finished one of the toughest years of my life. I'd spent ten months providing in-class support and after-school programs for an inner-city school, and while the experience was worth-while I'm fairly sure that it took 4-7 years off my life. But I'd made it, and in return the organization I worked for gave me almost $5000 to put towards my college loans. Pretty sweet, right? Surely there is no way that this could come back and bite me in the ass later? Right?

Cut to 2009 as I stroll into H&R Block to take care of my taxes, and this is where things start to take a turn. My tax preparer, who we shall hereto refer to as Dipshit McPeckerhead, decided that my education award was subject to a self-employment tax. Try as I might to inform him that I was a volunteer for the organization and that a self-employment tax made absolutely no sense in my case, he insisted that he was right and that I needed to file the way he said. I even told him that the previous year my preparer had designated the award that I'd used up to that point as an award given for volunteer service. You see, I had no problem with the fact that the award was subject to some tax. I was told before I received it that it was subject to tax, and that I should use the award over two years so that the taxes wouldn't be too overwhelming. So a tax is fine, but a self-employment tax is just stupid. Dipshit saw things otherwise, however, and I was forced to pay H & R Block something in the ballpark of $150 to be told that I owed the IRS even more money.

And if you'll just sign here, I'll remove my stapler from your ass.

Well, I'm no tax expert (hence being dumb enough to use H & R Block in the first place) but I knew something was fishy. So I followed up with the IRS, who informed me in so many words that Mr. McPeckerhead could not differentiate his ass from a hole in the ground. I made an appointment with my bestest buddy, who made an amended return that said I was actually owed a few hundred bucks. I could tell that he really felt bad about screwing up my taxes when I used the word refund and he looked at me like I just took a dump on his computer. I was just glad to have the amended return so I went on my way, having to wait an extra two months for the check since the amendment had to be sent via standard mail instead of electronically. But at least the whole fiasco was finally over. Right?

Cut to 2010, as Philadelphia embarked upon it's Tax Amnesty Program, which I'm paying no real attention to since all my taxes were surely in order. Hell, I even went back to H & R Block for this year's taxes, specifically avoiding Senor Cabesa de Pene and having a relatively painless experience. Then, a few weeks ago, I get some mail from the city that looks quite official. It even had those perforated edges that sometimes denotes that you'll be getting a check. But this, my friends, was much better than a check. This was a notice that I showed up in the city's records as needing to file a tax return for a profit on a business. Well, unless I'd somehow started turning a profit off of annoying the shit out of my fiance, I knew this was a mistake and I had a strong feeling that it could be traced back to a certain braindead tax preparer. I tried making calls for about a month to get the matter settled, but I could not get an answer that made me feel like I wasn't going to be arrested for tax evasion within a year.

So, I finally broke down and just went to the municipal building in Center City, which, I can tell you, is one satisfying way to spend a vacation day. Since I'd rather ride a bicycle with a broken lightbulb for a seat than try to park in Center City Philadelphia, I drove to a subway stop and took the train in the rest of the way. First, I got to wait for about an hour and a half, which gave me ample opportunity to observe the creme de la creme of Philadelphia. After all, all of those losers were dirty tax scofflaws who piss all over our society's rules. I, on the other hand, was a victim of a mistake in the system. Only me. So I finally get to a representative, and within about two minutes she comes to the conclusion that I did not in fact owe any taxes. However, in order to prove that, I would need to provide additional paperwork that I didn't have for a different department. I couldn't take another day off for this mess, so I took the subway back to my car, drove home, found the paper work, and drove/rode the subway all the way back. But it was all worth it because I was finally about to be done with this whole thing. Right?

Cut to the new department where I've taken the proper paperwork, and guess what? It turns out I do in fact need to pay taxes on the "income" that I've earned. It's at this point that I'd really like to do the following:

Actually, if we're going to be honest, me lashing out would probably look more like this:

But anyway you look at it, I was getting very close to being very unpleasant. So the woman tells me that if I can provide proof that the award I received never went to me but directly to my loan institution, I would not have to pay any taxes. Well, all I needed to do was get on the website that kept track of my award transactions, but of course I wasn't allowed to use one of the city's computers because that would have been too fucking helpful. I had to walk 8 goddamn blocks in 90 degree weather to get to the nearest available computer and then walk all the way back. But it would all be worth it because everything would be over and done with. Right?

Guess what...it actually was! After a measly 6 hours, everything was finally over! Thank you Jesus, there is a Santa Claus! I got a written verification, and the promise that I was no longer in the system as owing any taxes to the butthole city of Philadelphia. That's right, ladies and gentleman, I am free of the shackles of the tax scofflaw. I think I will celebrate by not editing this post for typos, and then going to sleep and dreaming of a certain H & R Block employee being slowly devoured by a large swarm of insects. Sweet dreams too all.

Take the Edge Off with Catching Big Freaking Fish

I think the best thing about writing your own blog is that you don't get any points taken off for turning your work in. That said, here is my post meant for last Saturday...

Sunday was the time of year for perhaps the only tradition my dad and I actually observe, our annual blue fishing trip. Every year since 2005, we go get up waaaaay too early, drive to Belmar, New Jersey, and hop on a party boat to spend the better part of the day following schools of blue fish around the Atlantic Coast. I've been able to think back to determine that this year was actually our 6th year making the trip. Join me for a trip down memory lane with a quick timeline:

2005-on a whim, Dad and I decide to celebrate Father's Day by going blue fishing, something I hadn't done in years because the gentle motion of waves on a breezy summer day used to make me puke until I wanted to die. This time, I take Dramamine and am talked into believing the bullshit story that wearing a blue bracelet that puts pressure on the veins in my wrist will prevent me from vomiting. Since I don't vomit, I choose to believe it. We catch so many fish and have such a great day that we decide to make it a yearly thing.

2006-We bring one of my best friends with us, and he chooses to wear gloves with the fingertips cut off. We make abundant amounts of fun of him. Once again catch a lot of fish. Oh, and I still believe the bullshit bracelet thing.

2007-This year I don't wear the blue bracelets and am quite surprised to find that solely with the use of Dramamine, I am the only one of our group of 4 that does not get seasick. One of the guys in said group impresses us all by being the only person I've ever met who could puke and laugh at the same time. Catch decent amount of fish.

2008-This is the only year that comes close to being a bad trip. The first mate of the Miss Belmar Princess is new, and turns out to be a world class fuckface. He's a big, fat, baldy-headed douche bag who does little more than badmouth the customers to other customers. He won't supply us with a bucket to keep the fish in, even though we tell him that we don't eat fish and plan on giving it to the mates to sell and only want to keep track of of the fish we catch just in case we catch a fish big enough to win the pool that we entered at the beginning of the trip. Dad decides to throw fish back after catching them, ignoring baldy-fatty's exclamations that he would keep the fish if we didn't want them. However, even though we had to deal with the cream of New Jersey's crap, we still manage to have a good time and catch some fish.

2009-When we get to the marina at Belmar, we see Baldy is still working on the Miss Belmar. Pops asks again if we can use a bucket, and again the prick says no. So, we take our first trip on our favorite new boat, the Golden Eagle! If you ever find yourself in Belmar looking for a blue fishing trip, use the Golden Eagle. The crew is a bunch of young guys, but they are great workers, friendly as hell, and are great with a gaff (gaff=big hook used to pull fish out of the water; they are too heavy to lift over with your rod). We again have a great day.

And that brings us to this year's trip, which was another great adventure. The one pain in the ass that comes every year is having to be up by 4:00am for Dad to pick me up, otherwise we won't get that coveted spot at the stern of the boat (that's the back of the boat to ye, matey). But it's Father's Day so I take one for the team, mainly so that I don't have to listen to Dad bitch and moan all day. This year was a little bit weird as there was a heavy fog off the coast, so we couldn't see more than a couple hundred yards in either direction. It made me feel very isolated from the rest of the world, which was an odd sensation. It didn't last, however, as we were eventually joined by all of the other boats from the Belmar marina, including, guess who...the Miss Belmar. And, if I liked the crew of the Golden Eagle before, what happened next pushed me into a full-on mancrush. As it turns out, these guys share our disdain for Baldy, so they were tearing him a new asshole while we chimed in (lamely). Then they realized that not only had one of the idiots from the Miss Belmar let their line out too far so that it was getting tangled in our lines, but the jackass actually had a fish on. So, one of the mates grabbed the line and proceeded to gaff the fish and keep it for the Golden Eagle, and since the line had become tangled in my Dad's reel, Pop decided just to cut the thing. So hopefully one of the guests on the Miss Belmar took away from his experience that if you fish with them, you will lose your fishing lure and another boat will end up with your fucking fish. Maybe next year we'll find out that Baldy is unemployed.

So needless to say it was another great year. We didn't catch quite as many fish as we have in previous years, but the ones we did catch were pretty damn big. In fact, I'm pretty sure the first fish I caught is the biggest fish I've ever caught in my life. Dad says it was probably about 10 or 11 pounds, so I'll round it off to an even 40. And, lest anyone ever try and say that I'm a bad fiance, after twelve hours worth of fishing/travel/getting sunburnt, I came home, showered, helped Mrs. Grump-to-Be entertain some friends for our housewarming dinner, and THEN cleaned up afterwards. If anyone is familiar with the application for sainthood, be sure to let me know because I'm quite obviously a shoe-in.

Check Back In Tomorrow/Monday For Take The Edge Off

Just in case there is anyone who gives a crap that I usually do a Take the Edge Off today, I wanted to give you a head's up that I'm waiting to write until after tomorrow, when my dad and I go on our 5th Annual Father's Day Blue Fishing Trip. What's a blue fish, you ask? Take a gander.

We'll be going out on a party boat off the coast of Belmar, NJ, likely along with about 100 of our closest friends. So check back in the next couple of days and hear about whether we caught ourselves a nice bunch of bastards like this...


Or, if we caught a nice, big boat load of...