And by the way, the one type of food no one in the world would ask for is British.
The same goes for the movies.
See: VIOLENCE + TITS = BUSINESS
Don’t see: BRITISH FILMS
H
‘In movies, we seek the freedom we lack in life …’
HERO, THE
The HERO rarely has need to apologize.* Women may demand an apology from him, but this is because they have misunderstood something, lack a key piece of information or, frankly, are just being MOODY WOMEN. More often than not, it is they who will later apologize for their misjudgment, at which point the hero will forgive their WOMANLY WEAKNESS. This frequently leads to LOVEMAKING. Lovemaking that is better than she could have ever imagined. Not that she’s been with a butt-load of dudes or anything (because the hero must never end up with a SLUT); she’s just a woman who INTUITIVELY APPRECIATES HIGH-QUALITY BEEF.
A hero should care about his hair, but not too much. It’s rare to see a hero use a blow-dryer on screen, despite the fact that there’s no way Kurt Russell isn’t blow-drying his hair. I mean, how else does he get that kind of volume?
A hero cannot have curly hair. The hero’s coiffure of choice is the mullet, which in many ways enshrines the Duality of Man: business up top, party down below. The mullet is the centaur of hairstyles: a mythical follicle waterfall.
Heroes are distinguished by their easy-to-understand payment plans. In Rowdy Herrington’s 1989 exploration of doorman subculture, Road House, Dalton (Patrick Swayze) is a ‘cooler’ – an expert doorman known for his preternatural ability to manage bar-based conflict. His fee? ‘5,000 up front, 500 a night, [plus] all medical expenses.’ A bargain! Especially given that he’ll stitch up minor stab wounds himself.
The hero always asks for ‘expenses’, but he rarely keeps till receipts.
The hero will not enjoy a glass of wine with food. Wine is for villains in polo necks, sitting behind large desks, picking at exotic fruit and making undermining comments to subordinates.
The hero can drink large volumes of alcohol, yet remains safe to drive, something which the law blindly refuses to recognize. Those who refuse a dram cannot be trusted: they’re calculating psychopaths unwilling to get into good-natured bar fights, spit at accented authority figures or safely swerve a car through night’s dark embrace.
The hero’s time is always running out, so when he drinks alcohol, he’s going to make sure that it’s as concentrated as possible. That’s why the hero drinks spirits. In Ernie Barbarash’s 2012 kidnapping dramedy Six Bullets, Samson Gaul (Jean-Claude Van Damme) drinks vodka throughout the first act, trying to block out the fact that he once accidentally blew up a couple of minors. In Joseph Zito’s 1984 Viet-com Missing in Action, Colonel James Braddock (Chuck Norris) wakes up in a hotel room after an extended flashback of his time in North Vietnam. He has a BEER FIRST THING and then, in the tradition of the hero’s innate distrust of tableware, drinks SPIRITS STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE. You think complete intoxication will interfere with his CONCERTED ASS-KICKING? Fuck no!
The hero frequently receives dressing-downs from uptight stuffed shirts hiding behind desks. These by-the-book guys will soon learn that you can’t win a war by sitting on your ass. You do it on the field. And the only true rule book is written on your heart.†
Heroes, once they’ve safely breached the compound, typically remove their fake mustaches/beards and discard them then and there, despite the fact that those fake mustaches/beards could have been soaked in alcohol and reused. Which is a shame/pretty wasteful actually.
Heroes are always good with their hands. This is why they often prefer to stitch up their own wounds. In Félix Enríquez Alcalá’s 1997 eco-thriller Fire Down Below, Jack Taggart (Steven Seagal) is so good with his hands that he is able to go undercover as a carpenter. As well as blowing the cover of a shady corporation implicated in toxic-waste dumping, racketeering and murder, he also manages to complete a new roof, reboard a porch, fix some rickety steps and build new beehives from scratch to replace the ones previously burnt by his love interest’s psychopathic brother. If the hero of your film can’t build a porch from scratch, perhaps it’s time to take another pass.
The hero does not judge prostitutes. In fact, he shows them kindness, refuses to judge and will do anything to help them out of their predicament. He rarely forms a romantic relationship with one, though, because – well, once a whore always a whore.
The hero has seen more death than most. As he watches life slip from a minor character’s body, he gives a slight bow of the head, followed by a wince that could just as easily be explained by abdominal discomfort.
The hero is an excellent driver. This becomes particularly apparent when someone tries to ram his car off the road. Presumably these situations can’t be frequent, so there would be virtually no opportunity to practice, but the hero instinctively knows exactly how to do it, even when using gearshift cars. It’s difficult enough to maintain clutch control at traffic lights, especially if someone behind you is obviously impatient, let alone in near-death situations!
Heroes accept refreshments gracefully, particularly caffeinated hot drinks (a mug’s fine). Alcoholic beverages (beer/grain-based spirits as opposed to wines/liqueurs) are acceptable at the end of a long day’s work, but not during the middle of an assignment. The hero must refuse refreshments from a villain, lest the refreshments contain villainy. Similarly, he must never take a cigar proffered by a genocidal maniac, even if he really wants that cigar. The hero welcomes sustenance (a tin plate is fine) but won’t accept treats such as ice-cream sandwiches, chocolate logs or gobstoppers. The hero must never be too full to beat someone to death.
The hero refuses to wear a tie, even in Europe.
The hero refuses to do up the top button of his shirt. But he’ll never leave the whole shirt open – he’s not a Mexican gang member.‡
Heroes hate wasting time. ‘You’re wasting my time,’ they’ll say. Yet they devote very little time to time management, and rarely consult a diary.
The hero often struggles with relationships, but no one loves their children more than him. His work makes demands that his wife could never understand, and this leads to separation, though the sexual attraction she feels for him will never wane.
The hero is drawn to HOMELY HOTNESS. OVER-WHELMINGLY HOT WOMEN can’t be trusted, even though they’re really hot.
The hero is great with kids. Especially sick kids. And not only do all kids like the hero, they respect him. They sense his honesty. Even if he had to lie to them. Because a lie from a hero is part of a bigger truth that only he can understand. It is often hard for the hero to spend time with his own kids, though when he does, there’s so much more in those two or three minutes than all the other stiffs and stuffed shirts manage with their decades of so-called ‘consistent parenting’.
A hero should not own anything that he cannot carry with him while diving out of an exploding ’copter: e.g. lockets containing pictures/hair of dead wives; photos of estranged children; portable/autographed sporting memorabilia; small items that facilitate killing.
Heroes are loyal, but would never use a loyalty card.
See: ASS-KICKING, CONCERTED; DAUGHTERS; HIGH-QUALITY BEEF, WOMAN’S INTUITIVE APPRECIATION OF; HOTNESS, HOMELY; HOTNESS, OVERWHELMING; INIQUITY, REFRESHMENTS FILLED WITH; LOVEMAKING; MEXICAN GANG MEMBERS; PACKING SMART FOR A REVENGE MISSION; SELF-RESTRAINT, HEROIC; SLUTS; SPIRITS STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE, IMPRESSIVENESS OF THE HERO’S ABILITY TO DRINK; WOMANLY WEAKNESS; WOMEN, MOODY
* Gordy once made me apologise for forcing him to punch me – Ayo.
† Impairing legibility? – Ayo.
‡ Sometimes I wonder whether life would be simpler if I joined a gang, but then I remember that I don’t look good in bandannas. So I have to scrap it out on the streets, solo – Ayo.
HOTNESS
Hotness ain’t about core temperature. Actors with excess body heat are not ‘hot’. A movie actor can be feverish, his back ta
cky with brine, but the audience may remain unmoved.
Hotness is an index of allure.
So why do actors have to be so alluring? In what way does an actor’s attractiveness improve the story?
By helping us give a damn.
It’s very hard to care about ugly people. Looking at an ugly person is a BUMMER. Looking at an attractive person is great! Sometimes you can get an erection just by looking at an attractive person! What a gift an erection is! You can’t get an erection from looking at an ugly person! In fact, your current erection might disappear! Who knows when you’ll be able to get another one? It could be years! Before you know it, you’re crying and you start to think, ‘I can’t stop! I’m going to be crying for ever!’
All these emotions distract us from the story. But when you see someone who’s attractive, you can’t take your eyes off them. Sometimes you’ll start following them – spying on them, even! And what is a movie other than a bunch of people agreeing to let another bunch of people spy on them for a fee?
That said, there are movies that don’t star attractive people.
We even have a name for them.
FLOPS.
See: BUMMERS; FLOPS; HOMELY HOTNESS
HOUSING
In Rowdy Herrington’s 1989 doorman dramedy Road House, Dalton (Patrick Swayze) is an expert bouncer or ‘cooler’, one of the best on earth. Yet he lives in a place with no TV, phone or air conditioning. The joint is so hot he has to make love on the roof.
In movies, we seek the freedom we lack in life, which is why we will never root for a HERO who signs a long-term rental agreement.
See: HERO, THE; LONG-TERM RENTAL AGREEMENTS, UNHEROIC NATURE OF; MAKING LOVE AL FRESCO ON AN INCLINE
I
‘Some movies require interpretation …’
ILLITERACY
It is often said that film is a medium for ILLITERATES. I guess the idea is that shit-kickers like us find it easier to look at pictures than read books.
So does that make restaurateurs illiterates? Their menus have pictures in them. Or would it be more ‘sophisticated’ if they just described the different kinds of tacos?
How’s about radio? Folks listening to the wireless are so dumb they call in with their opinions! How can I judge what you’re saying when I can’t see your face? For all I know you’ve got little piggy eyes!
Or ice hockey – you think those assholes are smart? They could do the exact same thing on grass, a surface that isn’t lethal. These tubs of fuck are doing something so straight-ahead stupid that they have to wear full body armor. You wear less protection fighting a fire. An act which is, at least, necessary.
If a picture is worth a thousand words, and movies run at twenty-four frames a second, then the average Steven Seagal film works out at nearly 173 million words, or 1,728 books by Robert Ludlum.
So who you callin’ illiterate now, motherfucker?
See: MOTHERFUCKERS, ILLITERATE-CALLIN’
ILLNESS
HEROES rarely get ill, though they are frequently poisoned by cowards.
In McG’s terminal ILLNESS dramedy 3 Days to Kill, CIA agent Ethan Renner (Kevin Costner) develops a hacking cough during a routine sting operation. But what looks like a character ‘quirk’ or, worse, an attempt to imbue the movie with ‘realism’ thankfully turns out to be an advanced brain tumor.
Renner decides to quit the agency and use his remaining time on earth to reconnect with his daughter, Zooey (Hailee Steinfeld), and (less urgently) his ex-wife, Christine (Connie Nielsen), neither of whom knew about his covert life as a badass making the world a safer place one kill at a time.
But when elite CIA assassin Vivi Delay (Amber Heard) offers Renner an experimental drug that could prolong his life, he agrees to sign up for one last hit. A side effect of the serum is strong hallucinations, which, as well as giving director’s director McG further license to bring his visual A-game, confirms that it’s far better for a character to be drugged than ill.
Illness is a sign of weakness, which is gross and un-American – there’s not much you can do about a cold apart from take a month off work and get tight in your car. Intoxication gives you something to fight against. Even if that fight is just with your bladder.
Further, it’s better that the hero be dying than ill. There’s dignity in bleeding to death by the harbor. Where’s the dignity in chronic wind?
See: HERO, THE; WIND, CHRONIC
INDEPENDENT FILM
Those who work in INDEPENDENT FILM are different to those who work in MOVIES. People who work in movies make movies for THE AUDIENCE.
People who work in independent films make films for People Who Like Independent Films. But People Who Like Independent Films are too busy to watch Independent Films because they’re all making Independent Films of their own.
Perhaps this is an exaggeration.
There is a small audience for independent film. They sit during the early show in tiny, near-empty theaters, drinking white wine from plastic cups, silently consuming artisanal popcorn, letting it dissolve slowly in their liberal-leaning mouths and chewing only at moments when the film’s soundtrack might mask their mastication, which is only once or twice because the film couldn’t afford a proper score.
But if they were really honest with themselves, wouldn’t they rather be at home rewatching Bad Boys?
No movie can be truly independent. It’s dependent on people wanting to watch it.
See: AUDIENCE, THE; MOVIES
INTERPRETATION
‘All hands on deck’ does not mean ‘everyone touch the floor’. The phrase requires INTERPRETATION. It’s one of the reasons I never cut it in the navy.
Sometimes MOVIES require interpretation.
No one wants to watch those movies.
On one level, Steven Spielberg’s 1975 creature feature Jaws is about a shark trying to eat people. The fact that it has no other level is why it’s so popular.
If your movie has ‘subtext’, you’ve got two choices: get rid of it or shift that shit up to the surface.
See: COMMANDS, AMBIGUOUS; MOVIES
J
‘If only life were just …’
JESUS
Does not work as a screen character.
We cannot relate to him. He has no flaws.* What does he learn? Where’s the love interest? Whither the arc?
That’s why the best Christ biopic is told from Judas’s point of view. Now here’s a guy with a dilemma.
Timmy Rice knew this.
That’s why he’s a rich man.
Unlike JESUS.
There’s a similar problem with J.C.’s Old Man. The Big Guy. The Silent Mover. And I ain’t talking about air biscuits. Cos when He intervenes, it’s deus ex machina.
Deus ex machina ain’t the name of a metal band;† it means that some things happen not because the HERO willed it, but because they are beyond human control. And that just don’t feel right.
No one’s gonna pay double-figure dollars to see a film where the hero doesn’t get exactly what he wants.
See: HERO, THE; JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR
* Maybe he cares too much? – Ayo.
† It’s actually the name of an Italian progressive-rock band – Ayo.
JUSTICE
One of the things that bind us to Steven Seagal is his sense of JUSTICE and how quickly he’s able to enforce/apply it. Not for Seagal the bureaucratic machinations of an antiquated legal system and it’s interminably slow ‘due process’, wherein people are ‘innocent until proven guilty’.
Steven Seagal knows you’re guilty. And he’s going to apply on-the-spot physical sanctions.
This is kung fu justice.*
If you question why Steven Seagal is taking your car, innocent bystander that you supposedly are, he will kick you in the face. And he’ll be completely justified in doing so!
This is hot-in-pursuit justice.
And when things have calmed down a little, Steven Seagal will reward the attractive woman’s pliancy w
ith the gift of his private length.
This is romantic justice.
If only life were just.
See: LIFE, STUPID
* Before you get the green ink out, Gordy won’t acknowledge ‘aikido’, which he says sounds like ‘painful bread’ – Ayo.
K
‘All these men have killed and killed again …’
KILLING
Can you think of a major motion-picture star who hasn’t KILLED someone in a film?
Cruise
Seagal
Eastwood
Stallone
Statham
Cage
Bronson
De Niro
Pacino
All these men have killed and killed again. The only consistent non-killer among major movie stars is Woody Allen, which is one of the reasons why no one’s ever really trusted him.
See: NON-VIOLENT MEN, INHERENT CREEPINESS OF
L
‘Words have meanings …’
LANGUAGE
Words have meanings. They evoke images.
Take a Tuna Melt. It always conjures up some sub-Dalí tableau of fish wilting on a bent clock next to a dude with blood coming out of his tits.
So I can’t eat them!
Even though, more often than not, they’re the only thing my young girlfriends say they can make. But why would I want a ‘mean’ anything?
The Grip of Film Page 9