Joseph Mallozzi's Blog, page 499

May 9, 2012: Deep Dog Thoughts

Cogito ergo esurio!

Back in the days when I had an office job, I worked with a woman (Michelle?  Chantal?  Quenel?)  who was training to be a pet psychic. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t something she was eager to share with her co-workers and only happened to come out over the course of some tangental discussion.  Something like:

“Hey, somebody stapled my report to the cafeteria wall!”

“The boss’s kids are kind of psycho.”

“I happen to be kind of psychic too.”

“I said psycho, not psychic.”

“Oh.”

“You’re kind of psychic?”

It turns out she was taking courses toward official(?) pet psychic accreditation during her free time – I suppose sometime between her full-time job and building that giant tinfoil pyramid on the roof of her apartment building.

“A lot people don’t believe it which is weird,”she said.  ”If you can believe in a psychic connection between humans and a psychic connection between animals, why is it so hard to believe in a psychic connection between humans and animals?”

I felt as though she’d missed step but, rather than call her on it, I encouraged her to continue by offering a non-committal: “Un huh.”

She smiled broadly, apparently pleased with the fact I hadn’t been judgy, laughed, or immediately reported her to HR as a potential victim of some stress-related anxiety disorder.  ”My teacher is one of Canada’s top pet psychics.  I only have two more classes to go.”  And then, on a more personal note: “I’ve been practicing with my cat, Minou.”

Some twenty years later, I don’t remember her name or her position at the company or even what she looked like (although I remember a lot of beige and a face that never quite synced with that salon curly hair). There were far more memorable former co-workers, but whenever I wonder what became of them all after the company went belly up, she’s the first one that comes to mind first because, unlike the others, she had a marketable skill to fall back on.  I imagine that had she had the foresight to hedge her bets by also pursuing a reiki diploma, she’d be set for life.

Oh, you may laugh, but from what I understand pet psychics do a brisk business.  I’ve personally yet to make use of their services only because I’m already attuned to my dogs’ innermost thoughts.    For instance:

Jelly…

…is saying pay attention to me/play with me…okay feed me.

Bubba…

…is saying pay attention to me/play with me…okay feed me.

And Lulu…

…is saying pay attention to me/play with me…okay feed me.  Also, quit staring at me.  You’re creeping me out.

I have an astounding 96% accuracy rate.

This is not to minimize the fine work of professional pet psychics who use their talents to diagnose personality disorders, locate misplaced chew toys, and help local law-enforcement solve crimes (“Minxy is reaching out from beyond the grave to tell me you the Doberman was set up.  It was the Alaskan Malamute!”).

Still, the few stories I have heard haven’t engendered much confidence in the profession.  My favorite was related to me by another co-worker on a past production. Let’s call him Carl.  Carl has two friends whose dog, George, had begun to demonstrate behavioral changes.  For some reason, rather than assuming the dog had been possessed and calling on the services of a pet exorcist, they jumped to the conclusion it was a psychological issue and contacted a pet psychic instead.  The pet psychic, while highly recommended, lived in another state, but assured them she could perform her scam trick service over the phone.  And so, at the appointed time, they rang her up and presumably held the phone up to George’s face so that she could pick up the doggy vibes. The feedback was immediate.  Something like: “George is feeling down because he feels you’re not paying enough attention to him.  George suffers separation anxiety when you leave the house and he misses you while you’re gone.  He could really use some more TLC…”  In recounting the experience to Carl, George’s owners were amazed at the pet psychic’s ability to pinpoint what was ailing their dog.  For his part, Carl was less than impressed.  ”George a girl.”

I guess psychic energy is genderless.

Yep.  There’s always a good (and if not good, then certainly entertaining) answer to our pointed questions.  It’s like they see ‘em coming.

For instance, back when she’d claimed to have honed her burgeoning psychic abilities on her own lovable Minou, I couldn’t resist asking Michelle/Chantal/Quenel what she’d learned from him.  Had she been able to solve any of the mysteries that have plagued feline owners for centuries.  Why, for instance, don’t they like water?  To this, she nodded knowingly and informed me that she had asked the question, and received the same response her instructor had told her had been echoed by many a furball before him: “It’s a cat thing.”

Tagged: cat thoughts, cats, dog thoughts, Dogs, pet psychics, pet thoughts, what is your pet thinking?

May 8, 2012: A Hypochrondric Pragmatist

“Hi,”said the woman on the other end of the line, sunny as could be. “This is Dr. Ward’s office calling.  We received a referral from your family doctor.  He’d like Dr. Wade to check your eyes.”

“Yep,”I said.  It had been over two weeks since my doctor had suggested as much.  I’d simply assumed someone had dropped the ball.

“Well, let’s see.  The earliest Dr. Ward could see you would be…2014.”

2014.  Not 2013.  NOT next year.  The year AFTER next year.

“OR…”she followed up before I could say anything.  Clearly, she had the routine down pat.  ”…you could come in this month and have one of his associates examine you.”

The  tenor of her voice, possessed of an undercurrent of hope with a dash of empathetic excitement, made me feel as though I’d just managed to secure a lucky-once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  No doubt mistaking my confused silence for reticence, she quickly followed up: “They’re very good.”

I’m sure.  I told her yes and made the appointment for later this month. Presumably, Dr. Wade’s associates will prove equally up to the task of getting to the bottom of my tortuous eyeballs (April 6, 2012: Tortuosity and Dark Matter!).

As it so happened, today was also the day I went in for my blood test, just a (hopefully) routine part of my annual physical.  I’d been meaning to get around to it for a while (a.k.a. putting it off) because I wanted to be sure my bloodstream was free of trace elements.  No, not drugs. Sugar.  A week before my tests, I usually like to switch up my diet, drop the desserts in favor a daily serving of oatmeal.  But my girlfriend, Akemi, has been adamant I not try to fool the test this time. “It’s like you pretend nice guy,”she said.  And then, realizing: “Well, not pretend nice guy.  You have to accept the reality.  You eat sweets every day.”  She had a point.  Screw it.  So, yesterday, I skipped the oatmeal in favor of these:

A half-dozen dougnuts from Cartems Donuterie.  Sorry, vegans.   Your sans gluten offering touted as “cruelty-free” was, ironically, the cruelest version you could possibly serve a doughnut-lover.  Baked, topped with toasted quinoa, it tasted like slightly sweet bread.  The Triple Threat Chocolate was good, but trumped by the Mexican Mole.  The winners, however, were the Classic and Citrus Dust, both of which proved mouth-meltingly delicious.

Anyway, I received a clean bill of health after last year’s physical, with no alarm bells going off or warnings dispensed, so I’m confident I should pass this one without issue.  But, you never know.  Until then…

I’m a hypochondric pragmatist.  I imagine I’ve been stricken with a variety of medical conditions, then persuade myself I’m okay by ignoring the symptoms I convinced myself I had to begin with.  It’s exhausting.  Some nights, my internal dialogue goes something like this: “What was that?  Was that a pain in my chest?  I think it was. Chest pain.  Am I having a heart attack?  I could be having a heart attack!  No, wait.  That medical study I read about in the Malcolm Gladwell book concluded that trouble breathing, rather than chest pain, was a likelier indicator of a heart attack.  And I’m not having trouble breathing.  Or am I?  Yes, I think I am having trouble breathing.  Am I having a heart attack?  I think I am.  I should go to the hospital!  But that would mean getting out of bed, getting dressed, driving down, sitting in the waiting room…  Soooo tired.  Hmmmm.  Maybe this isn’t a heart attack after all.  Maybe I’m not having trouble breathing.  I think I’ll just stay in bed and sleep it off.”

And sleeping it off has always worked to this point, so what am I worried about?

Mailbag:

hitmanjr writes: “The producers were beating on him and if anyone remembers who Peter Gruber and Jon Peters was it’s any wonder this movie even got finished. Those two went on to take the Japanese to the cleaners at Sony Pictures after this movie, there is a book about it.”

Answer: Check out this terrific video of Kevin Smith recounting his Superman Reborn experience with Jon Peters.  Some great insight into how things work in Hollywood: Kevin Smith explains what happened to his Superman movie …

dasndager writes: “Burton was the director, not the writer. The writers were: Bob Kane (Batman characters, as consultant), Daniel Waters and Sam Hamm (story), Daniel Waters (screenplay). So, if there is blame, put it where blame is due. (And before you start saying, ‘but direkor responseble for…’, I’ll point out a mess called Inquisition ).”

Answer: I, of course, don’t have a dog in this fight.  The opinions expressed in the disputed entry are those of our guest reviewer, Cookie Monster, and do not necessarily reflect my views or the official policy of this blog.  Having said that, I’m going to have to side with monster on this one.  In television, the writer/show runner is usually the one in charge while the director is a hired gun.  So, yes, in the case of something like, say, an episode of Stargate, you should feel free to blame the writer (partly) and the show runner (mostly).  In film, the opposite is true.  The director holds the power while the writer is lucky to even be permitted on set once they’ve turned in their final draft.

dasndager also writes: “I really enjoy Burton’s movies. They are visually stunning, but more than anything, they have heart.”

Answer: Edward Scissorhands, Ed Wood, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – yes.  Mars Attacks!, Planet of the Apes, the Batman movies – not so much.

Josh writes: “Hey Joe, do you know if there are any plans to release SG-1 on Blu-Ray?”

Answer: Sorry, Josh.  I’m out of the loop on MGM’s plans for Stargate, Blu-Ray release and otherwise.

jys writes: “mise en place and service.”

Answer: Where are you working now?

Tagged: annual physical, blood tests, Cartems Donuterie, check ups, medical matters

May 7, 2012: The Supermovie of the Week Club reconvenes! Cookie Monster reviews Batman Returns!

Batman Returns remind monster of solid gold eggz Big Bird get by mail order.  Nice to look at but empty and when send complaint, company stop taking your callz and it all end wit director filing restraning order against you.  Dis movie also like Grover at prom nite. All style, no substance, some pleather, and night end wit someone face down in pool.  Me know, me know.  People will say: “Come on, monster. Just enjoy movie for what it is!”.  But monster not understood why me have to settle for lazy skript, espeshully when so much effort go into rest of film.  It suggest people who make movie just not care very much – about skript, about audience and, most important of all, about monster.  And dis hurt monster’s feelingz and make him want to cry. And punch someone.  And if can’t punch someone, shitty review de next best ting!

All dressed up and nowhere to go.

Movie start wit baby being abandoned in Gotham sewerz.  He grow up to be…arch villain Penguin!  Meanwhile, powerful bizness man plotting to screw city. He be…arch villain Max Shrek!  But his mousey assistant find out about his planz and, in one of moviez many stoopid scenez, she tell him she know everyting.   So he trow her out window but she survive and become…arch villain Catwoman!

She make dis outfit out of one jacket hanging in her closet.  For true.

Two villainz not alwayz twice as good as and tree never tree timez as good, but story almost manage to work – only to fall apart in individual scenez where logic take back seat to moving tings along.  For instants, Penguin blackmail Max to help him get power.  In one scene, clown jump out of sewer, take mayor baby, and jump back into sewer. Everyone hear sound of skuffle, den Penguin show up wit baby.  He saved baby!  Suddenly, everybody love dis creature dat look like beach ball wit feet.  Me know, me know.  ”Come on, monster.  Just enjoy movie for what it is!”

Cat scratch fever.

For instants, Max Shrek trow Selina out window to keep her from talking about his secretz.  She show up at work next day and, insted of trying to kill her again, he shrug and say he too busy to bother.  Me know, me know.  ”Come on, monster.  Just enjoy movie for what it is!”

Supervillain team up!

For instants…

Max Shrek visit Penguin.  He say he have surprize for him, take him downstairz where – is now located Penguin for Mayor office complete wit volunteerz.  And Penguin not notice anyting while upstairz?

Catwoman kidnap woman and leave her standing on ledge.  Instead of hopping off to safety, she stand dere until Penguin scare her into falling.  She die.  Instead of arresting Catwoman for accessory to murder, Batman just leave.

Catwoman makeshift clawz she puts together from itemz in her apartment able to penetrate Batsuit even tho it was bulletproof in last movie.

Insane klown posse hijack batmobile.  How?  Oh, we establish dey have de planz?  Where dey get de planz?

Me know, me know.  ”Come on, monster.  Just enjoy movie for what it is!”

Penguin loved by people who want him to be mayor – until Bruce and Alfred pull de olde “play de bad guyz sekretly rekorded diskussion in publik”.

Catwoman fight Batman.  Batman fight Penguin.  Penguin fight Catwoman.  Batman fight Penguin again.  Catwoman fight Max Shrek.

Catwoman want to kill him but Batman say no.  Dey have to bring him to jail.  Party pooper.  He have no problem killing henchman clown by blowing him up earlier in movie.  What a hipocrit!

Oh, and an idiot.  For some reazon, Batman unmask himself in front of Catwoman – and Max Shrek!

Catwoman electrocute herself, then grab Max Shrek and tongue him wit tazer.  Max die but she survive.  Somehow.

Me know, me know.

Verdikt: Nice visualz but skript leave someting to be dezired – mainly, logic.  Bottom line: Director Tim Burton not care about you.  In fakt, he hate your gutz.

Rating: 4 chocolate chippee cookies out of 10 (5 chocolate chippee cookies if you watch wit sound off).

Pleaze diskuss.

Tagged: Batman Returns, Cookie Monster, Cookie Monster reviews Batman Returns, SuperMovie of the Week Club

May 6, 2012: What I accomplished today!

Picked up some books for mom in anticipation of Mother’s Day:

Picked up some books for myself while picking up books for mom in anticipation of Mother’s Day:

Spent time with my girlfriend:

And my dogs:

Roasted a chicken:

And veggies:

Ate a slice of blueberry cheesecake:

Got a parking ticket:

And finished outlining the final eight acts of the sixteen act mini-series:

So, what did you all accomplish today?

May 5, 2012: Time flies when you’re having fun! But it’s just the opposite when you’re writing a 16 act outline!

They say that time speeds up as you get older.  Conversely, I can now confirm that time actually slows down when you’re trying to write up the 16 act outline of a miniseries over the weekend.  I started at 8:30 this morning and finished at a little before 10:00 p.m., breaking only for a shake, a quick dinner, and to take my dogs out for a walk.  Eight acts down and another eight to go.  In a weekend.  On Stargate, at my speedy best, it would take me a day to write an episode outline.  I’m operating at x4 efficiency.  Well, x4 speed anyway.

Time speeds up as you get older.  And it also seems to fly when you’re having dinner with friends.  I leave you with these photos as I turn in for the night to start thinking about the tease to Part 2, Act 9, and the fact that Paul still hasn’t come up with those last two acts.

Carl is in town with Karen. He’s here to run the marathon. Look at the fear in his eyes!

Carl samples the special draft on tap – a lemon beer that hardly tastes like urine at all. Hardly.

Lawren and his (much, much) better half.

Since Carl is in town, I spare no expense. Chorizo burgers for everybody!

With a hearty meal under his belt, Carl now has the energy to run his marathon!

Check out that look of fierce determination. I have high hopes for my buddy. Last race, I managed an embarrassing 1500th out of 50 000 runners. This year, Paul and I are expecting nothing less than a top ten finish!

P.S. Start posting your questions for Dark Matter artist Garry Brown!

May 4, 2012: Dark Matter artist, Garry Brown, wants to hear from YOU! And once you come up with that final act break, it’ll be smooooooooth sailing!

With the opening four-issue arc of our comic book series, Dark Matter, completed, I thought this would be a great opportunity to have artist Garry Brown swing by this blog for a Q&A.  A native of Scotland and graduate of the Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic Art, Garry has worked for Marvel, DC, BOOM! Studios, Dark Horse, and IDW among others.  Not only did he provide the fantastic artwork for issues #1-4 of Dark Matter, but also did the honors on all four amazing covers as well.

Curious about the process?  Want to know more from an established artist?  Then start posting your questions.

Oh, that reminds me.  The Supermovie of the Week Club (in which we gather to discuss a different superhero-themed movie EVERY WEEK!) reconvenes on Monday when our guest reviewers, Cookie Monster, will weigh in with his thoughts on Batman Returns:

By the way, Cookie Monster takes exception to the accusation he was unduly critical of last week’s film, The Rocketeer.  He did have nice things to say about the look of the movie (not so much about the script) and gave it a very respectable six (albeit sugarless) chocolate chippee cookies out of ten – well above average.

Well, if today’s story breaking session with my writing partner, Paul, accomplished anything, it was to confirm the truism that: “You’re always one act short.”  Whether it’s the Stargate five act structure or the miniseries sixteen, you’ll always find yourself down an act break. We’d been doing so well, breaking four big acts a day, even finishing early yesterday, only to bog down this afternoon and find ourselves staring at fourteen acts and a resolution.  Back on Stargate, whenever I was short an act, I’d always suggest the old standby:

Daniel heads off-screen.  Suddenly, we hear a -

Daniel: (bloodcurdling shriek).

ON the horrified looks of the other members of SG-1.

END ACT

BEGIN NEXT ACT

Picking up where we left off.  ON the horrified expressions on the other members of SG-1.

Sam: Daniel, are you okay?

PAN OVER to Daniel, picking himself off the ground, dusting himself off, and testing his foot.

Daniel: Yeah, I twisted my ankle.  But I’m okay now.

ETC.

Of course, my fellow writers would always shoot down my “Daniel twists his ankle” reveal (they were always jealous of my ideas: Teal’c twists his ankle, Jack twists his ankle, Daniel is spooked by a ghost but it turns out it’s just a cat rummaging through a garbage can in an alley) so we would have to spend al afternoon trying to come up with an alternative.  That’s what Paul and I did today.  But, unlike those old Stargate story sessions, we failed to come up with an alternative and decided to call it a day before we put our fists through Paul’s brand new whiteboard.  We decided I would start writing up/fleshing out the outline while he gave those final two acts some thought.

This is where you guys come in.  Unfortunately, I can’t say much about the miniseries at this point but I do need that 15th act break, so if you’d be so kind to come up with something we would really appreciate it.

Tagged: Garry Brown

May 3, 2012: Photos of my life and others

Can you imagine stepping out your front door to THIS?    From a distance, it looked like a really bad paint job – but, upon closer scrutiny, that bad paint job actually turned out to be thousands of tiny, carefully-applied post-it notes.  How long do you figure it would take to pull off something like this?  Half an hour?  An hour?  Try two and a half hours.  How do I know?  Well, as it turns out, my writing partner’s wife was responsible.  I showed him the pic the other day and he nodded: “Yeah, that was Michelle.”  Yep.  Two and a half hours and her hands were numb by the time she was done, but it was a practical joke well worth the effort.  No word on how long it took the victim to remove the post-it notes or the state of his hands.

My friend Ivon Bartok is the Imelda Marcos of Vancouver, more for his outrageous collection of Nike running shoes than his failed Presidential bid in the 1998 Filipino national elections.  The other day, he dropped by and showed off his new kicks.  It think these are the shoes that Cartman wore on that episode of South Park where he goes undercover to live among the smurfs.  Them’s bluer than blue!

Speaking of blue, check out Akemi’s new outfit, a recent purchase on the heels of my assuming the position of Fashion Consultant for Akemi Aota Enterprises.  I’m also going to go ahead and take credit for this -

And this -

But the purse is all her.

Hey, guess who I was driving behind the other day.  Go ahead.  You get one guess.

Wrong!

Pictured above, our new technical consultant on the miniseries Paul and I will be writing.  We’ve been breaking the story over the past few days.  Twelve acts down, another four to go – then I’ll spend the weekend writing it up, bounce it over to Paul who’ll do his pass after which we’ll deliver it, get notes, and then it’ll be smoooooooooooth sailing!

No doubt inspired by our latest foray into okonomiyaki-making (see last Saturday’s blog installment), Akemi makes her own version for dinner complete with mayo message topping.

Months ago, I decided I should get around to doing a little spring cleaning.  I have stuff sitting in boxes that I haven’t touched since I moved to Vancouver – over twelve years ago!  I started with the garage and, as I sorted through the endless boxes, I realized that half the stuff in there wasn’t even mine.  There were office chairs, filing cabinets, and a giant jeweler’s microscope from Fondy’s old office, a barbecue and various things belonging to my former lodger (Lawren BW), about four boxes of muppets and various shoes belonging to my former fellow Stargate producer Marty G., as well as a number of items of unknown origin.  I’ve got back issues of New Scientist I hesitate to turf given that they may prove useful from a future research standpoint even though they’re at least five years out of date and I can’t ever imagining myself leafing through the individual magazines in search of a specific topic.  There’s an entire office full of bank, corporate, and investment statements I’m reluctant to throw out for fear I may need to reference them at some point.  And I haven’t even gotten around to the crawlspace full of boxed toys, comic books, and superhero/villain statues.  Akemi has been bugging me to downsize because she thinks the house is way too big (and, possibly, haunted), but I think I’d need to move to a place equally big just to store my belongings.

Which brings me to this little item that had been sitting in the garage, gathering dust.  We tend to walk the dogs separately because at thirteen and suffering from hip dysplasia, our eldest pug Jelly has a hard time keeping up with our other two dogs, nine year old pug Bubba and four year old French bulldog Lulu.  But she seemed perfectly content to go for a ride the other day, letting the youngsters do the walking while she kicked back and enjoyed the scenery.

And, since we’re on the topic of elderly pugs – as many of you know, I’m looking into taking in a couple of lovable seniors.  I was contacted by the Seattle Pug Rescue who requested pics of the house and a letter of reference from my vet.  All good, but I thought that – as some of you have suggested – I should also consider supplying links to this blog.  I’m presently in the process of compiling a list of suitable dog-related posts for forwarding.  Off the top of your heads, any specific posts stand out?

May 2, 2012: This blog goes to the dogs. Again!

Whereas most adults my age are either dropping their kids off at school or picking them up from school or buying them clothes and toys, or attending their various extracurricular activities, I’m dropping my dogs off at doggy daycare or picking them up from doggy daycare or purchasing them leashes and toys, or attending various pooch-related functions.  Like this past weekend, for instance, when we attended back to back dog-themed event, the first for French Bulldogs, the second for Pugs.

Jelly and Bubba crashed the former and Lulu the latter.  After they got home, they slept for two days straight.

Great turnout for the first event – about 30 Frenchies in all.  Lulu was really working the crowd.

Lulu captured the attention of this amorous fella…

There’s always one accommodating one in the bunch.

Scrappy scrappy.

Jelly did a little socializing.  Bubba, on the other hand, was a total wallflower.  A skittish, growly wallflower.

Having fun!

Jelly in the thick of things.

Making friends.

On the move.

Kickin’ back.

Meet ‘n greet.

Following the French Bulldog get-together, we headed over to the beach for a far more restrained pug to-do.

Bummed.  Where are all the other pugs at?

Jelly checks out the older guy.

Lulu gets in on some of the pug action…

They grow up so fast.  And, before you know it, they’re off to college.

Tagged: Dogs, french bulldogs, pugs

May 1, 2012: The Supermovie of the Week Club reconvenes! Cookie Monster reviews The Rocketeer!

Zzzzzz.  Snort.  Hunh?  Me awake!  Sorry.  Monster up all night trying to finish Rocketeer for todayz review.  Movie is trowback to old cereals from de 30′s and 40′s your grandpa used to love.  Of course dis be same guy who can watch construction AAAALL AFTERNOON so dat not saying much.  At times, Rocketeer capture dat old timey spirit with beootiful updated costumez and special effekts – but same seventy year old musty script.  De only interesting charakter in dis movie is de villain.  Not de MOST interesting.  De ONLY interesting one.

Movie start wit test flight of plane.  All going superfantastik until bad guyz being chased by FBI shoot at plane out of spite.  It crash.  Bad guyz car coinsidentally end up in airplane hanger where bad guy hide sekret package everyone after.  He trick FBI into tinking package destroyed, den he sent off to hospital.  Turn out package is experimental jet pack dezigned by de guy from Lost!  FBI want him to build one more.  He say no because blah blah blah…zzzzz.  Sorry. Sorry!  Me awake now.  Where was monster?  Oh yah!

Hey, itz John Locke!  Bet you not see dat twist coming!

Evil aktor (how dat for a tautology?) after de jet pack wit help from gangsterz.  He call up big goon to visit bad guy in hospital to find out where it at.  Turn out, it “at” airplane hangar where handsum hero find it hidden in plane.  Meanwhile, we introduced to girlfriend of hero who blander den plain yogurt.  Mebbe even blander den skript for Rocketeer.  Dey go on date.  Dey talk and diskuss…zzzzz.  Huh?  What? Where is monster?!  Oh.  De blog.  Right!  Sorry.  So sorry.

Anyway, girlfriend is also aktress.  Coinsidentally, she is extra in movie starring evil aktor.  When our hero show up on closed set and skrew up scene by knocking over set dec, she fired.  Den unfired when evil aktor realize she be girlfriend of guy who have jet pack (Coinsidentally, he overhear dis information.  Why waste time creating clever ways for villain to find out information when overhearing conversationz sooooo much easier?).  He ask her on date.

Let me strap dis on your back…great…now me going to stand waaaay over here and…good luck!

Air show!  Some clown in plane get into trouble.  It Rocketeer to de reskue!  Hero strap on jet pack, put on speshul helmet, and fly up. Crowd amazed.  Old timey reporterz call in skoops.  Rocketeer save clown.  He wave at people in plane.  Den crash.  Sidekick drive over to help but car break down.  Gangsterz closing in.  So, in coolest scene of movie, Rocketeer give car a push – wit his jetpack.  Car take off like Grover’s miata on a Saturday nite cruise for chicks!

Some guy die.  FBI shootout wit big goon.  Gangsterz show up at diner looking for hero.  Dey find girlfriend name and phone number on bulletin board by phone for reazon only scriptwriter know for sure. Fight!

Handsum hero.

Not so comic sidekick.

And Jennifer Connelly as de wishywashy love interest.

Evil aktor and wishywashy girlfriend at dinner.  Hero show up disguized as waiter.  He spill drink on her.  Runs into big goon.  Chased. Changez into Rocketeer.  Fly around club den fly away.  Ho hum.

Evil aktor take girlfriend home.  He try to seduce her.  She bonk him on de head, sneak around and diskover…he really nazi.  Suddenly, he awake – but brain damage from head shot cause him to talk wit German aksent for rest of movie.

Agree to swap.  Jet pack for de girl (If monster’s call, he keep de jet pack – but me not one to criticize).  Gangsterz find out evil aktor a nazi and dey turn against him.  Den more nazi’s show up.  Den FBI show up!  DEN BLIMP SHOW UP!  EVERYBODY SHOOT!  AND RUUUUN FOR IT!

Evil aktor and girlfriend get on blimp and fly away.  Rocketeer chase. Fight big goon.  Crash into gondola.  Evil aktor take jet pack and fly away – but hero cause fuel leak so evil aktor blow up and burnt to crisp.  But not before delivering best exchange in movie:

Girlfriend: “You’re a liar.”

Evil Aktor: “It wasn’t lying, Jenny.   It was acting!”

De name is Bond, Jakob Bond.  Schweinhund!

Evil aktor blow up.  Blimp blow up.  Rocketeer save de day.  Happy ending for everyone and couple finally resolve deir differences and…zzzz.  Oh!  Okay.  Finished?

Verdikt: Dis movie try to fly high and recapture spirit of old timey cereals but grounded by boring skript and bland charakters (See what monster did dere?  Fly high?  Grounded?  Movie was Rocketeer, remember?).

Rating: 6 sugarless chocolate chippee cookies.

Pleaze diskuss.

Tagged: Cookie Monster, Cookie Monster film reviews, Cookie Monster reviews The Rocketeer, SuperMovie of the Week Club, The Rocketeer

April 30, 2012: The Supermovie of the Week Club reconvenes! Cookie Monster reviews The Rocketeer!

Zzzzzz.  Snort.  Hunh?  Me awake!  Sorry.  Monster up all night trying to finish Rocketeer for todayz review.  Movie is trowback to old cereals from de 30′s and 40′s your grandpa used to love.  Of course dis be same guy who can watch construction AAAALL AFTERNOON so dat not saying much.  At times, Rocketeer capture dat old timey spirit with beootiful updated costumez and special effekts – but same seventy year old musty script.  De only interesting charakter in dis movie is de villain.  Not de MOST interesting.  De ONLY interesting one.

Movie start wit test flight of plane.  All going superfantastik until bad guyz being chased by FBI shoot at plane out of spite.  It crash.  Bad guyz car coinsidentally end up in airplane hanger where bad guy hide sekret package everyone after.  He trick FBI into tinking package destroyed, den he sent off to hospital.  Turn out package is experimental jet pack dezigned by de guy from Lost!  FBI want him to build one more.  He say no because blah blah blah…zzzzz.  Sorry. Sorry!  Me awake now.  Where was monster?  Oh yah!

Hey, itz John Locke! Bet you not see dat twist coming!

Evil aktor (how dat for a tautology?) after de jet pack wit help from gangsterz.  He call up big goon to visit bad guy in hospital to find out where it at.  Turn out, it “at” airplane hangar where handsum hero find it hidden in plane.  Meanwhile, we introduced to girlfriend of hero who blander den plain yogurt.  Mebbe even blander den skript for Rocketeer.  Dey go on date.  Dey talk and diskuss…zzzzz.  Huh?  What? Where is monster?!  Oh.  De blog.  Right!  Sorry.  So sorry.

Anyway, girlfriend is also aktress.  Coinsidentally, she is extra in movie starring evil aktor.  When our hero show up on closed set and skrew up scene by knocking over set dec, she fired.  Den unfired when evil aktor realize she be girlfriend of guy who have jet pack (Coinsidentally, he overhear dis information.  Why waste time creating clever ways for villain to find out information when overhearing conversationz sooooo much easier?).  He ask her on date.

Let me strap dis on your back...great...now me going to stand waaaay over here and...good luck!

Air show!  Some clown in plane get into trouble.  It Rocketeer to de reskue!  Hero strap on jet pack, put on speshul helmet, and fly up. Crowd amazed.  Old timey reporterz call in skoops.  Rocketeer save clown.  He wave at people in plane.  Den crash.  Sidekick drive over to help but car break down.  Gangsterz closing in.  So, in coolest scene of movie, Rocketeer give car a push – wit his jetpack.  Car take off like Grover’s miata on a Saturday nite cruise for chicks!

Some guy die.  FBI shootout wit big goon.  Gangsterz show up at diner looking for hero.  Dey find girlfriend name and phone number on bulletin board by phone for reazon only scriptwriter know for sure. Fight!

Handsum hero.

Not so comic sidekick.

And Jennifer Connelly as de wishywashy love interest.

Evil aktor and wishywashy girlfriend at dinner.  Hero show up disguized as waiter.  He spill drink on her.  Runs into big goon.  Chased. Changez into Rocketeer.  Fly around club den fly away.  Ho hum.

Evil aktor take girlfriend home.  He try to seduce her.  She bonk him on de head, sneak around and diskover…he really nazi.  Suddenly, he awake – but brain damage from head shot cause him to talk wit German aksent for rest of movie.

Agree to swap.  Jet pack for de girl (If monster’s call, he keep de jet pack – but me not one to criticize).  Gangsterz find out evil aktor a nazi and dey turn against him.  Den more nazi’s show up.  Den FBI show up!  DEN BLIMP SHOW UP!  EVERYBODY SHOOT!  AND RUUUUN FOR IT!

Evil aktor and girlfriend get on blimp and fly away.  Rocketeer chase. Fight big goon.  Crash into gondola.  Evil aktor take jet pack and fly away – but hero cause fuel leak so evil aktor blow up and burnt to crisp.  But not before delivering best exchange in movie:

Girlfriend: “You’re a liar.”

Evil Aktor: “It wasn’t lying, Jenny.   It was acting!”

De name is Bond, Jakob Bond. Schweinhund!

Evil aktor blow up.  Blimp blow up.  Rocketeer save de day.  Happy ending for everyone and couple finally resolve deir differences and…zzzz.  Oh!  Okay.  Finished?

Verdikt: Dis movie try to fly high and recapture spirit of old timey cereals but grounded by boring skript and bland charakters (See what monster did dere?  Fly high?  Grounded?  Movie was Rocketeer, remember?).

Rating: 6 sugarless chocolate chippee cookies.

Pleaze diskuss.

Tagged: Cookie Monster, Cookie Monster film reviews, Cookie Monster reviews The Rocketeer, SuperMovie of the Week Club, The Rocketeer