Showing posts with label memes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memes. Show all posts

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Meme proliferation: Movie questions.


Regular readers (and, from this point on, all regular readers will be identified with the word "Screamin" in front of their names - the ANTSS equivalent of being a Mouseketeer) Screamin' Cattleworks and Screamin' Mermaid Heather both tapped me to answer this series of film related questions and, though they're not specifically horror related, I was so tickled folks would even think of asking me that I'm going to dedicate this entry to my answer.

Back to the regularly scheduled horror stuff tomorrow. We'll be talking about Dracula and World War I and Sherlock Holmes and shock therapy, I promise. You'll dig it.

Today, though, the questions:

1. Popcorn or candy?

Candy. Aside from Halloween, movies are the major candy-related event in my life. Plus, I have fond memories of my mother, determined to cheat the over-priced concession stands out of their pound of flesh, sneaking candy into movie theaters. Normally, my mom was a straight and narrow type. This seemed, when I was young, to be her only moral failing: sneaking in food against the theater rules. This also meant we bought our movie candy at the local supermarket. Instead of eating a single-serving bag of Reece’s Pieces, we’d be hiding super-sized family bags of that stuff on our person. Good times.

2. Name a movie you've been meaning to see forever.

Aguirre: Wrath of God. I don’t know. It is one of those things that’s on my list. But whenever I have the requisite 4,057 hours of free-time needed to partake in said acknowledged masterpiece, I find my wondering whether I want to use this huge block of time watching something that’s going to drag me through the emotional wringer and leave me longing for the sweet oblivion of death.

3. You are given the power to recall one Oscar: Who loses theirs and to whom?

I would have rather had the first Oscar for Best Flicker go to Keaton’s still-wonderful The General rather than the indifferent Wings. I feel that if it had started off on the right foot, we could have avoided some of the more regrettable choices that came later.

Though, every year, whenever there’s and Oscar pool, I write in Deep Blue Sea for best picture. Every year. ‘Cause it had giant, super-smart, killer sharks. That’s pretty boss. So, Plan B is that: American Beauty’s loss is LL Cool J’s gain. ‘Cause American Beauty didn’t have giant, super-smart, killer sharks.

4. Steal one costume from a movie for your wardrobe. Which will it be?

The exquisitely tailored suit of Petey Wheatstraw, Son-In-Law of the Devil. That or the mask of lucha legend Blue Demon.

5. Your favorite film franchise is…

The Santo movies are a particular favorite of mine. I once actually wrote a biography of Santo which treated his real life and the events depicted in his films as both equally true.

And that’s probably the geekiest thing I’ve ever confessed to.

6. Invite five movie people over for dinner. Who are they? Why’d you invite them? What do you feed them?

We’re going to break the dead/live barrier so I can invite anybody I want. Here’s the guest list: El Santo, Buster Keaton, Vincent Price, Chuck Jones, and W.C. Fields. Mainly so I could pose for a group photograph El Santo, Buster Keaton, Vincent Price, Chuck Jones, and W.C. Fields. We’ll be having chili dogs. Damn, man; I could really go for a chili dog. I wonder if I could sneak away from work, get down to Nathan’s, and sneak back before anybody noticed I was gone.

7. What is the appropriate punishment for people who answer cell phones in the movie theater?

At the risk of sounding like a broken record - giant, super-smart, killer sharks.

8. Choose a female bodyguard: Ripley from Aliens. Mystique from X-Men. Sarah Connor from Terminator 2. The Bride from Kill Bill. Mace from Strange Days.

I’m going to go with Mace because she is, after all, actually a bodyguard. Since I’m not a small and vulnerable looking female, I don’t think Ripley’s maternal instincts will be properly stoked. Mystique lost her powers, so she’s out. Conner has the same mom thing that took Ripley out of the running. And the Bride – Let’s face it, outside of a universe predicated on Tarantino’s love of Uma, the Bride wouldn’t stand a chance. She got the physique anorexics crave and some sort of block against the use of firearms. If you need a job done right, hire a pro.

9. What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen in a movie?

Joey Adams trying to act.

10. You’re favorite genre (excluding comedy and drama) is?

Horror. Comedy and horror are, for my buck, the two most emotionally realistic genres film has to offer. Screaming and laughing are just about the only sensible reactions to life.

11. You are given the power to greenlight movies at a major studio for one year. How do you wield this power?

Here’s a short list of what I’d do if given the power of life and death over a major studio:

Spike Lee attached to direct the Jackie Robinson story re-make, scripted by Colson Whitehead.

My now infamous “You telegraph the emotional punches because you don’t trust the audience” lecture ruins my first Spielberg lunch, but ultimately he comes around and our friendship is stronger for it.

Snap up rights to Tom Franklin’s “Poachers” and get David Gordon Green on it.

Give the entire studio a new rule: “Romantic comedies must be both genuinely romantic and genuinely funny.” I’ll happily greenlight any romantic comedies that meet the rule, though I suspect the issue won’t come up.

Sit down with Alexandre Aja and explain the idea of a logical narrative structure. “And here’s the take home, Ally Cat: cause and effect.”

Finally get the William Faulkner vampire script, Hateful Hollow, underway.
Bring back serials and short cartoons to show before the features.

12. Bonnie or Clyde?

Honestly, I’m more C. W. Moss.

13. Who are you tagging to answer this survey? (Three or more)

I’m too new at this. I don’t think I have three or more blog-amigos. Cattleworks already hit them all. I guess this means the chain stops with me. Faboo. A million years of bad luck. I’ll probably get eaten by giant, super-smart, killer sharks or something. Thanks a metric pant-load Cattleworks.