The preemptive critics
“The Wickerman”
When I first heard about this movie, I was a little skeptical. I mean I knew it was supposed to be scary, but I just wasn’t feeling it.
Wicker has got to be the least threatening type of furniture around. The Upholstered Man maybe, but wicker?
But then I saw the trailer for this thing and I must admit, I’m hooked.
I still don’t know exactly what the Wicker Man is, but I know it scares Nicholas Cage and anything scares Nicholas Cage terrifies me.
Think about it. Nick Cage has fought mobsters, Nazis, the law, terrorists and a relationship with Meg Ryan. This guy is tough as nails.
Also Wicker Man is the first scary movie trailer when I’m confused what the monster is because I haven’t seen it, not because it’s some weird thing I can’t identify it.
I’m sick of movies where the trailer is full of pasty white, gangly creatures who look more like inbred mimes than ghosts (I’m looking at you, “Pulse”).
Still I don’t care what the Wicker Man is, Cage will be using it as an ottoman by the time this movie’s over.
I preemptively love this movie.
-by Steve Shinney/steveshinney@cc.usu.edu
“Crossover”
When I saw the movie was named “Crossover” and that it starred Wayne Brady in a reprisal of his bad-guy role on the “Chappelle Show,” I expected it to be an inner-city follow-up to Felicity Huffman’s “Transamerica” or a hilarious romp through the misadventures of the stereotypically squeaky-clean Wayne Brady.
In a sentence, I expected it to be good. “Crossover” is instead about an overly dramatic rap soundtrack and a couple of guys who have to choose between a career in the NBA or lives as doctors.
This is not a choice real people have to make. That much talent does not – nay, cannot- exist in real people.
Instead, I have spent 23 years telling myself I’m smart. Not because I’m really smart, but because I had to find some way to reconcile myself to my complete dearth of motor skills and the teasing and taunting it inspired.
Where’s the movie telling my story? The skinny white kid who is picked last only to still endure terrible acts at the hands of his teammates?
I think I’m going to stay home and give myself the wedgie this time.
And for that, I preemptively hate this movie.
-By Zach Pendleton/zpendleton@cc.usu.edu
“Crank”
Fresh off a summer oversaturated with displays of harrowing macho-ism in every conceivable form – be it stealthy scientologists, flamboyant pirates, deranged NASCAR drivers and even Sam Jackson on a snake-filled plane – we don’t need yet another excuse to turn off our brains.
Blazing down the prescribed track of “been there, blown that up” comes “Crank,” an action thriller staring “Transporter” Jason Stratum.
With a career that includes little more than Guy Ritchie heist capers and American action films with barely enough dialogue to fill a page, Stratum clearly sticks with what little he knows.
The smart-talking, hair-deficient typecast aggressively tackles the role of Chev Chelios, a hit man that discovers that he has been injected with a poison that will kill him if his heart rate drops below … ah, who cares?
The film’s premise is clearly just an excuse to throw all of those pesky narrative trappings like dialogue and a conceivable plot to the wayside in favor of implausible action sequences and a couple of well-placed explosions.
If that sounds like the recipe for a good time at the movie theater, then this is the film for you. As for me, I’m too exhausted by this summer’s onslaught of adrenalin overkill to care.
I preemptively hate this movie.
-By Mack Perry/mackp@cc.usu.edu