Tim Roth fell off like Shawn Kemp. The one-time Boy Wonder (see Tarantino, Quentin for more details) gives a dreadful account of himself during his latest piss-poor performance. Roth stars as the nemesis of the Hulk, a tatted up punk who morphs into machine to combat his primary target. It’s about as entertaining as softcore, HBO smut.
I had a Green Monster energy drink en route to the Greenburgh Movie Complex in Greenburgh, N.Y. I recall such an event because it was the first time I’ve gone to see a flick at a movie theater in a hooker’s age (freebies on surfthechannel.com and youtube have made my entertainment life much more fiscally feasible and allowed me to catch my flick-of-choice in the cozy confines of my couch). Anyway, I copped this green monster and slugged it with reckless abandon as I anticipated a film about…well….a fucking green monster!
The wild sugar bomb I flushed down prior to the film would pay no dividends, however, as it sucked more dick than Jim McGreevy. Now I’m not a big Marvel buff, haven’t been big on the comic book scene since I was a seven-year-old with an affinity for the Silver Surfer and a penchant for wanting to stick my then-little cock into Ghost Rider (she’s a chick, isn’t she? Before they made the flick wasn’t she a chick I remember hearing this one Halloween and right now the thought of a gat-toting, ultra-fit chick dodging bullets and creating a badass scene gets me harder than the Chemistry Regents. Super sexy. Man, I really need to see Wanted again).
Anyhow, a crummy plot, IQ-less-than-your-hat-size (unless of course your Barry Bonds or a guido gym rat) situations, all-too-predictable dilemmas, and poor acting from just about every party except the exceptional Edward Norton helped make this brain-numbing script (penned by Zak Penn) a stinker. I’m not sure how the review process went for it, I see IMDB gave it a 7.6 out of 10 though, a reputable score indeed.
To be candid, the only aspect of the film which elicited a response from me was the jiggle joints on Liv Tyler. That rack is stacked like a New York City attorney. Wow. The old school rocker’s daughter has come quite a long way since that one night at McCool’s (they severely overhype her hotness in that movie, which was produced when she was just coming up and registering her presence and chesticles to the outside world) and Armageddon. She has filled out and added on hotness since that early epoch and I’d say her stock has risen at the same pace as my high-school girl hunting wangus when I picture her in the nude.
Anyway, let me fend off these ADD waves which are beginning to splash the shoreline. Let’s get back to the once-legendary Tim Roth.
As a kid in the early nineties, Roth took the world by fire with his uncharted swag and undaunted showing in the aforementioned Tarantino’s 1992 hit, Reservoir Dogs. The film, which was essentially the one Tarantino blew up on (though I know he had a hand in True Romance, the 1991 thriller that emerged back when Christian Slater still knew how to act and not grab chicks asses New York City. This was also during an era when Brad Pitt was still a relatively unknown. He played a scatter-brained, headed-right-for-the-bottom stoner that rips bong hits and crushes beers while living on the couch of Michael Rappaport’s home).
Tarantino, he of the brolic chin and affinity for dialogue as regal as his otherworldly violence, tells the tale of a patchwork group of cement-hard criminals (all of whom go by a color alias) slated to pull off a diamond heist. Things get out of control and a whole new situation surfaces once the caper fails miserably. A then-young Michael Madsen (I’d say he gained about 60 pounds given his still relatively recent performance as a hillbilly jiggle joint bouncer in Kill Bill 2) reels off a relentless shooting rampage, Freddy Newandyke (Mr. Orange) gets near-murked after a fat old lady pops one in his belly, and, in a strange twist of events, Mr. White (played by a young, gangster version of Harvey Keitel) commits his life to making sure Mr. Orange doesn’t pass on him. Keitel’s subversive character almost turns gay while displaying his compassion for Mr. Orange, as many might conclude.
The fact of the matter is, however, Mr. Orange got hit with a bullet that Mr. White could have prevented. Thus, he feels he owes it to Mr. Orange to save his last breaths. It’s out of self-respect and respect for his own manhood.
You don’t get much better acting than Tim Roth in Reservoir Dogs, as he goes undercover to solve the great Joe Cabot (the boss of the group of educated thugs who strings together the caper with the help of his son “Nice Guy Eddie,” who is played by the late Chris Penn. Random Fact: Penn’s voice is an instant staple in the video game: Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I know this because my scatterbrained roommate freshman year was glued to the couch playing it 24/7 because he had the social aptitude of a turtle and he couldn’t score a chick that didn’t tip the scales at 300 pounds or above for the life of him).
If you watch Roth’s acting during the commode story scene (the scene which he sells the cons on his gangster resume and his resiliency during one significant, near-cuffed situation), you’ll find it’s like poetry-in-motion.
Under the tutelage of his boss, he absorbs and memorizes an intriguing anecdote about a drug dealer during the supposed Great Chronic Scare. The scene starts out in a swanky California diner and ascends into the ballsy cop’s apartment, where he’s awaiting the thugs—all of whom have a penchant for telling campfire-like stories and utilizing dictionary, SAT words, mixing them in with their workaday crime lingo sporadically. The old-school Sandy Rogers tune “Fool For Love” plays in the background. Classic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-xKD8KmpQDQ
Tell me that’s not fucking first-rate acting! Reiterating what I previously stated, this snarky British accent-having cat was boy wonder back then, and that performance was certainly a portent of bigger roles. It launched him to the role of Ringo in Pulp Fiction. He was also the star of Tarantino’s nuttiest and least recognized pieces of work, Four Rooms, in which he plays a bell hop in a hotel on New Year’s eve. The film is four different stories packaged into one. It features a star-studded cast, a fad in QT’s original flicks (see Brown, Jackie). Everyone from Madonna to Bruce Willis had a part in this low-budget laugher but Roth was truly awesome and hitting his pinnacle in full force at this era. The fact that Tarantino chose Roth as the centerpiece of this high-rent cast is indicative of how much he thought of him.
Now Roth appears to be just another so-and-so, nearing the big 50 and wash-up territory. Let’s face it folks, he hasn’t been in anything significant over the past decade really. The British-bred cat who was nominated for best actor for his supporting role in the 1995 drama Action-Drama Rob Roy has left his best days behind him at this point.
Mitch Mullany Dead At 39:
I could hardly believe the bad news myself. The hilarious comedian/actor who originally appeared as “White Mike” on the Wayans Bros show engendered outbursts of laughter from me time and time again when I was 15. I watched him play Derek King, a white irish kid brought up by an all African-American family in South Central Los Angeles, in the 1999 comedy, The Breaks. His character is gut-busting funny and I learned that Mullany actually wrote this gem. I also watched some of his hilarious standup and I recall his impressions were quite off-the-wall. He was a comical genious, one that definitely made waves in the African-American community despite the fact that he was a pale white dude. As the tagline from The Breaks (a movie I craved in high school and college) has it, “he’s a brother who pales by comparison.”
I believe a colossal sign was hung at the Laugh Factory—one of the many houses he rocked with laughter— that reads “R.I.P. Mitch Mullany. Make God Laugh.”
Those who were fortunate enough to treat their stomachs to any of his performances know he will.
These Boots
I’ll be true with you. In my lifetime, there are two non-smut movies I have purchased strictly for bathroom duties. The first was Monster’s Ball with the scintillating Halle Berry scene. The second was The Dukes Of Hazard, a flick I still haven’t scene in its entirety. As you may know, Jessica Simpson is lava-hot in this and certainly register’s her smoking body in a major way. So, I discovered this extra footage while perusing the goods necessary to elicit a JO session this morning and this is what I stumbled upon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouHinY4KyyU&feature=related.
Feast your eyeballs, fellas.
Needless to say, this content is unreal. Tony Romo is one lucky motherfucker.
-Smizz
