Tag Archives: Quentin Tarentino

There’s a cold front a’comin’

What’s up with Dairy Queen?

They seem as fascinated with natural disasters as Quentin Tarentino is with blood and gore.

mudslideI’ve never really thought about it until today, when a friend posted a picture of a DQ Mudslide (left) on Facebook.

Looks tasty.

But then I realized DQ has Mudslides.  And Blizzards.  And Earthquakes.

And it makes you wonder what naming guru at DQ — or their agency of record — associates really bad weather with ice cream treats?

You gotta admit, it’s weird.

And probably weirder still that we don’t spare the names a second thought as we cram all that gooey chocolate sauce into our pie holes.

Rocked

I saw a movie yesterday in the theater and didn’t have snacks.

Blasphemy, I know.

But 127 Hours didn’t seem like a nachos kinda film.  So much has been written about the gross-out factor of Danny Boyle’s latest effort.  It may have been nominated for six Academy Awards including Best Picture, but much of the media attention has focused on the audience reaction.

People passing out in their seats.  Vomiting in the aisles.  Staggering out of the cineplex, mentally scarred for life.

Popcorn didn’t seem prudent.

Nevertheless, I bravely walked into the theater, a super-sized Diet Coke my only comfort, and watched the film.  When it was over, I wished I could take off a few arms myself — of the folks who wrote those misleading, alarmist statements!

The bloodshed in 127 Hours is no worse than what you’ve seen in any number of Hollywood action films, and it lasts about 90 seconds.  Tarentino fans no doubt will find it lame.  It was harder for me to watch James Franco’s face as he made the agonizing decision to cut off his own arm as his only means of survival.

Sure, it’s a bit gutty, but you can always turn away if need be.  But that one scene does not set the tone for the entire film.

127 Hours is spiritual and inspiring — the soul searching exploration of a man wrestling between the acceptance of a certain death and his will to survive.

I almost didn’t see 127 Hours because I thought it would make me sick.  If someone else misses it for the same reason, I would feel even worse.

In-gory-ous Basterds

I’m not going to see ‘Inglourious Basterds.’  On principle.

I love movies….all kinds of ’em.  I try not to write off any genre or actor or director because I think you miss out that way.  In fact, I’ve lectured people when they do that very thing.  (For example, I believe a lot of people missed out by writing off ‘Twilight.’  If you still haven’t seen it, rent the DVD.  You’ll thank me.)

But I have given Quentin Tarentino quite a few chances, and he and I just don’t see eye-to-eye.  I know many critics and moviegoers love his point of view and his creativity…and I don’t dispute that he has a definite dose of both.

But I think filmmakers like Tarentino and Eli Roth — who directed the irresponsible torture film ‘Hostel’ (that Tarentino produced) and who also stars in ‘Basterds’ — are doing us all a disservice by splashing around such unholy gore in their creations.

If we can sit through such blatant displays of death and dismemberment and not be affected, what does that say about us as human beings?  And why then are we surprised that teenagers are killing each other in high schools?  Or that professional football players are choking the life out of dogs with their own hands?

We as a generation are becoming numb to overwhelming displays of violence.  It’s something that we laugh at…and cheer on…and give five-star ratings to, as in the case of ‘Inglourious Basterds.’

Don’t get me wrong; I love the idea behind the film.  A Jewish revenge fantasy against the Nazis?  Brilliant.  But in the hands of Tarentino — in just the glimpses that I have seen in the trailer — ‘Basterds’ is a gore fest that I choose not to support or applaud.